#and there aren’t any fix-it fics to make up for it damnit! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mishacollinsthighsss · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Castiel

Warnings: mention of Dean's death, mention of Castiel's death (but it's mostly just pure fluff, I promise)

Post 15x20, Fix-It-Fic (kinda)

Happy Supernatural day guys, I thought a little Destiel fix-it would be fitting for this day 💙

Not beta'd, all mistakes are my own

"Cas, you stupid son of a bitch! Do you hear me? That's what you are, alright?"

Dean looked up into the sky above him - which, now that he thought about it wasn't actually the sky, but who knew what was real in heaven and what wasn't. He had been driving around for a month now - maybe it had been just two weeks? - Dean didn't know, but what he knew was that he was praying to the stupid angel in a trenchcoat, without success. He'd thought that after everything that had happened, Cas would be happy to see him, would come to greet him the second he arrived here, but nothing.

"Damnit Cas, I know you can hear me!"

The former hunter was standing at the foot of a mountain, surrounded by nothing but trees, flowers, and bees. He didn't even notice how far he'd walked, but when he let his gaze wander, he realized that the meadow was huge. He felt an ache in his heart all of a sudden, because he knew that this, right here, would be one of Cas' favorite places.

His anger grew all of a sudden, but at the same time, his eyes filled with tears and he sat down on the ground, leaning against a solid tree.

"Listen, I know that - that things aren't that fancy between us right now, but I - I wanna... God, move your ass here, Cas!"

His voice got louder and louder, until he could hear it echoing back from... somewhere. Dean had no idea, but he didn't care. He was exhausted, even though he didn't need to sleep up here, but he knew exactly that it wasn't that kind of exhaustion, no, it was the emotional kind.

For what had felt like forever, he was searching for Cas, trying to reach him somehow, starting right after he realized that he loved the goddamn angel as well, but until now, there was not a single sign of him.

"Please man, I need you. We need - we need to talk."

His voice cracked at the last word and the first tear found its way down his cheek, but he wiped it away quickly. His head dropped back then against the tree with a sigh, and he closed his eyes.

"You realize that you can't hide forever, right? Come on, whatever the reason is, we'll figure it out, we'll figure everything out. Cas, please."

His eyes were still closed, and suddenly, there was a light breeze at the meadow, making the trees rustle a little.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean's head snapped up while he tore his eyes open, and for a second, he felt too dizzy to see anything. When his eyes got used to the light again though, he was looking right at Cas'...

His eyes snapped up so fast that once again, he got hit by a wave of dizziness, while his cheeks got hot in an instant.

"Jesus, you could've showed up next to me, or behind me, or... or..."

Just then, the former hunter realized that it was actually Cas standing right in front of him, and just like that, his heart was up his throat, while at the same time, his stomach seemed to tie itself in knots. It was Cas, his Cas who he was searching for a month, standing right in front of him like nothing had happened.

He jumped up, not sure what he was about to say, but all of a sudden, he was furious.

"Hello? That's all you have to say?"

His voice was shaking, and his hands automatically clenched into fists, while he tried to control himself not to punch the angel right into his stupid, beautiful face.

"Yes."

Cas' expression was blank, and Dean huffed an angry laugh, while he turned to bring some space between them. When he took a few steps, he didn't turn around again, because his eyes were burning with unshed tears, and as much as Dean was thinking about this moment, prepared for it, even, he couldn't say what he wanted to say, not now, not like this.

"Do you have any idea how long I've been searching for you?" the hunter asked, his voice quiet.

"I'm aware, yes," Castiel answered, and Dean had to close his eyes. He'd been thinking about this moment for almost two months now, the whole time on earth and in heaven, and this wasn't how he'd thought it would go. It wasn't even close.

"Then why? Why did you make me wait?"

It was a desperate question, Dean's voice full of emotions, he could hear it, but he couldn't stop it. It took him some time to become like this, to not hide his feelings anymore, and he wouldn't be ashamed of it now.

"I could sense your anger, Dean. I thought that -"

"Well, next time stop thinking buddy, and do what I ask you for."

Dean knew it sounded selfish, and again, a little desperate, but he couldn't stop himself. Slowly, he turned around, his head lowered to hide his tears at first, but after he took a deep breath, he raised it slowly to look at Cas.

"You have any idea how much I've missed you, you son of a bitch?" he whispered, while he slowly approached the angel, one small step after another. Castiel's eyes went wide for a second, before his expression went completely blank again, but even though he tried to hide it, Dean noticed the small gulp anyway.

"You have any idea how I felt when you left? When you dumped all that shit on me, not even caring about what I'd have to say, and then you just disappeared? You have any idea how that made me feel?"

Dean's voice got louder and louder, and at the end, he was almost yelling, his voice echoing from the mountains, and for the first time since Cas' confession, he understood what the angel had said.

'You think that hate and anger, that's what drives you, that's who you are. It's not!'

No, what he was feeling wasn't anger. He wasn't angry at Cas. He was desperate, and heartbroken, and confused, but not angry. Slowly, the former hunter took a deep breath, his gaze locked with Cas' the whole time.

"You think I'm a rock? That you could just dump that on me and leave, and that I'd be okay with that?"

Dean took another step closer, then one more, until their faces were only inches apart. The angel lowered his head in shame, but not a single word came out of his mouth. When his ears turned into a dark share of red, Dean almost smiled through his tears.

"You think I'm okay without my best friend by my side?" Dean whispered, while he pushed Cas' head back up, using his index finger.

"Cas, say something," he begged, almost desperate, because even though Dean had learned to deal with his shit by now, he still couldn't stand it to get no answer when he was being vulnerable in front of anybody.

"I'm sorry," Cas whispered, while he lifted his head all the way to look into Dean's eyes. The former hunter could see tears glistening in Castiel's eyes as well, and just with one look, he knew that the angel was sincere.

"Just don't... don't ever do shit like that again, alright?" Dean mumbled, before he grabbed the angel by the shoulders and pulled him into a hug, so tight that breathing got hard after some seconds, but Dean didn't care, because first of all, he was dead already, and second, he'd die for this, for Cas, just like Cas had died for him.

After some moments, Castiel hesitantly lifted his arms as well and wrapped his arms around Dean's lower back, which made the former hunter sigh. His eyes fell shut and he had a hard time resisting the urge to bury his face at the other man's neck, but somehow, he did it. Just when he was about to let go, he could feel a sharp pain at the back of his head, accompanied by a loud slapping sound. Dean jumped back, eyes wide, and stared at Cas in disbelief.

"That," Cas said, the smallest of smiles on his lips, "was for dying right after I sacrificed myself for you to live. You can thank Charlie for showing me this."

Dean raised his hand and rubbed the spot that was throbbing a little now, and he was more than aware that in heaven, he wasn't supposed to feel any pain, except of when he wanted to.

"That's... that's fair," he mumbled, and his cheeks turned pink, while the corner of his mouth lifted a little.

"Yeah, I think I deserve that."

He wasn't sure if Cas knew how he died, or why, but if he did, he wasn't showing it. No, if he'd know, he wouldn't grin like that now, Dean was sure, and for some reason, he was more relieved about that than he thought he'd be.

"Listen, there's... there's something else we need to talk about," he mumbled suddenly, and his smile disappeared immediately, just like Castiel's.

"If you mean what happened on earth -"

"No, you shut your mouth and let me talk, you had your moment already."

There was no heat behind Dean's words, but Cas' mouth snapped shut anyway. Suddenly, there was a light breeze ghosting over the meadow, and Dean felt the urge to turn around, so he did, blaming it on his still very present hunter instincts. He was almost sure to see someone behind them, Jack maybe, or anyone else who wanted to see Dean, but what was there instead took his breath away.

Right there, just a few feet behind them, was a huge barn, but not any barn, no, the barn they'd met all those years ago. The light changed as well, and suddenly, it was dark, the only light given by at least a thousand fireflies, quietly flying around the barn.

"Friggin' heaven," he mumbled and his face turned into a dark shade of red, because even though he was denying it all the time, he knew this was his work - he was a fucking sap.

When he turned his head again to look at Cas, the angel's eyes were wide, staring in awe at the spectacle in front of his, his lips slightly parted.

"Dean..."

"Not a word. Listen, there's... there's some stuff I wanna say as well," Dean said, his voice more firm that he'd thought, but he cleared his throat anyway before he began to speak.

"First of all, I'm still mad at you for what you did back there, alright? And I will be, probably for a long time. But..."

The former hunter searched Castiel's gaze, and only when their eyes locked, he continued.

"But even though I was - or am - mad, that doesn't mean I didn't miss you like crazy. Do you have any idea how fuckin' thrilled I was when I came here and Bobby told me you're around as well? And how - how disappointed I was when you didn't show up?"

"Dean, I didn't mean to -"

"No, shut up, man. I already told you, you had your moment."

Dean waited for an answer, but Cas was just standing there, staring at him, without saying another word. He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets, but when his fingers hit something that hadn't been in there before, he furrowed his brows. Slowly, he tried to make out what it was. It was something small, a little box, maybe? It was soft and -

Oh. Oh no. Definitely no. This couldn't be, this-

"Dean?"

Dean's eyes snapped back to Cas, and just then he noticed that he'd had lowered his head. The angel stared at him with his brows furrowed and his head tilted to the side, and Dean's heart jumped by the sight.

'Why not?' a voice was whispering in his head all of a sudden, and he knew it was right? Why the hell not, right? It's not like he'd suddenly die, he already was dead. Go big or go home.

"Yeah, I'm, uh... let's walk a little, alright?"

Dean tilted his head into the direction of the barn and started walking, and Cas followed him immediately. As soon as they were side by side, their arms touching just a little, like they'd always done when he was still alive, Dean started talking again.

"So... I have one question. Did you mean it? What you said, I mean, the - the love part."

The former hunter was too afraid to look at Castiel, so he kept his gaze at his feet, watching every of his own steps carefully. He knew Cas had meant it, but he still needed to ask, just to make sure.

"Of course I meant it, Dean."

Again, Dean's heart jumped and he had to take a few deep breaths to calm it down. They walked around the barn until they reached the entrance door, which was closed, and that's when Dean stopped. He took another deep breath and lifted his gaze, about to start talking again, but as soon as their eyes locked, he couldn't get a word out. Instead, he lifted his hand, which was shaking a little, slowly, almost like he could break Cas if he wasn't careful. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think anymore, his whole body worked on its own. As soon as his fingertips touched the other man's cheek, careful, soft, he exhaled.

He wanted to say so much, wanted to tell the angel that he loved him, that what he did was stupid, that he could have what he wanted, but his mouth didn't work.

Cas' eyes went wide by Dean's touch, but not even a second later, he leaned closer to Dean's hand, and Dean cupped his cheek fully. Somehow, they got closer and closer, and now their noses were almost touching, Dean could feel Castiel's breath on his own lips. Out of reflex, his tongue flicked out to wet them, and Cas' gaze dropped down, just for a split second, but he didn't move.

"You stupid son of a bitch," Dean whispered, his eyes full of tears once again, before he closed the distance and pressed his lips against Castiel's. Their mouths were closed, it was a soft, tender kiss, almost a little shy, but feeling Cas' lips on his own for the first time was enough to drive Dean crazy. His eyes fell shut, which caused some tears to roll down his cheeks, but he didn't even notice, he was too focused on the other man.

Cas gasped when their lips met, and at first, he was frozen in place, but when Dean started to move his lips, slowly, to give the angel time to proceed what was happening, Cas hesitantly put his hands on Dean's waist and pulled him closer. Dean whimpered and he knew he'd deny it later, but he stepped even closer, until their bodies were pressed together from head to toe.

They were standing there for minutes, hours, days, hell, it could've been weeks, according to how time worked in heaven, but when they finally separated, Cas was looking at him with such awe in his eyes that Dean had to lower his head.

"You could've just asked, you know? I know - I know I wasn't easy to be around, but... to think that this is something you couldn't have, that was just stupid."

Huh, his voice sounded way too deep. Cas didn't say a word, didn't even breathe, and as the seconds ticked by, Dean got a little worried. Slowly, he looked up, just to see Cas still standing there like before, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly opened, his cheeks flushed. He was beautiful.

"I love you too, Cas," Dean said, his voice quiet, because he didn't know what else to say. Then, just like that, Cas' eyes filled with tears in mere seconds, and the liquid slowly ran down his cheeks as soon as he began to smile. The smile quickly turned into a grin, and Dean couldn't resist to smile as well. For some reason, they both started laughing, at the same time, and they laughed so hard that their bellies started to hurt.

When they finally calmed down a little, Dean took Cas' hand and took a few deep breaths.

"We're both a couple of dumbasses, huh?" he mumbled, his mind once again wandering back to the small box that was still hiding in his pocket.

"Dean, I -"

"I'm not done yet," Dean said with a grin, which felt a little off, because he was nervous as hell all of a sudden. With his free hand, he pulled out the little box, still hiding it in his fist, and started talking once more.

"So uh... I know that I'm - well, dead, and you're an angel, and heaven is a fucking traitor, but uh... would you... wear that? It's - it's not - I mean, marriage is a bit useless up here, but -"

The former hunter wasn't sure how to finish, so he just closed his mouth and lifted his hand with the little box. As soon as he opened it, he couldn't hold back a little chuckle. What was inside was a ring, a silver ring to be more specific, but there was one blue line, going around the silver all the way in little waves. Dean remembered how he'd seen this ring once, and even back then, his mind had jumped to Castiel immediately, because the blue was the exact same color as the angel's eyes.

Cas' eyes went wide once again and he lifted his hand to touch the ring carefully. Silence stretched between them, and just when Dean started to think this had been a bad idea, Cas sobbed, just once, before he wrapped his arms around the former hunters neck and squeezed tightly.

"It'd be an honor to wear that ring, Dean," he whispered, right next to Dean's ear, and Dean breathed out, just then realizing that he'd been holding his breath. When Cas pulled back from the hug, Dean took his hand once again and slid the ring on his finger, before he intertwined their hands with a smile.

"I know that - that there's a lot to talk about still, but could we just... dunno, enjoy the night? Or... day, or evening, or... whatever..." Dean asked when he looked around. The light had changed once again, and instead of the barn, there was a small house, just big enough for two people to comfortably live in. Nearby was a little lake, surrounded by trees. The meadow was still there, but there was also a road now, close to the house. And a white picket fence. A fucking white picket fence. Dean's face turned red in an instant.

"Is this where you want to live from now on?" Cas asked while looking around, not even noticing Dean's embarrassment.

"Seems like it is," Dean shot back, his voice a little more grumpy than usual.

"It's beautiful," Cas answered, before he looked at Dean again, his face turning serious.

"Do you want to... live alon-"

"God, Cas, are you fucking kidding me? Don't even think about leaving me again or I'll find you just to stab you."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Cas mumbled, but there was a huge, loving smile on his face, and Dean couldn't do anything else than to smile back.

"Let's get inside then," Cas said and squeezed Dean's hand, and the former hunter nodded and followed quickly. Cas was back, finally, and Dean wasn't a coward for once. He'd been honest about his feelings, and for the first time in his life, there was nothing that could destroy his happiness. No monster, no sudden death, nothing. It was just Cas and him. Cas, angel of the lord, soldier of God, who loved him. Him, just a human, a tiny, little human. Dean couldn't believe his luck. He followed Cas inside the house, and when he turned around to close the door, he exhaled. This was heaven, right here, with Cas, the man he loved. Finally, he was at peace. Finally, he was home.

Tag list: @sam--ships--it @green-blue-heller @professorerudite @foolsdreamhigh @jmjlover @spnmrvlshrlck @melly-the-crazy-coconut @thebluelynxx @lulu-zodiac @bigartpuppy @charliesfandomlife

Let me know if you wanna be added/removed 💙

#dean winchester #castiel #destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fic #destiel fanfiction #destiel fix it #post 15x20 #destiel first kiss #deancas #deancas fic #deancas fanfiction #deanxcastiel #dean x cas #JasWrites

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hajimewhore · 3 years

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Body Swap 👫 (Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader) ➸Rated T, fem!Reader, 1.9k words ➷✈Part 1, Part 2 ➷Humor, awkwardness involved, if you’re me and I’m you who’s flying the plane?! ➷Summary: When you woke up at fuck o’clock on a Sunday morning, you cursed yourself for setting an alarm so early on the weekend. Afterwards, you came to realize a few important things: 1. You didn’t set the alarm. 2. Hajime set the alarm. 3. You were in Hajime’s room. 4. Why? 5. Because you ARE Hajime.

A/N: I’m taking forever on this Akaashi fic so I decided to throw this series out here, I hope you enjoy!🥺 Body swap is a trope I find absolutely chaotic and hilarious, so let’s get it!

♡ ♡ ♡

Releasing a deep sigh, you pull your warm comforter over your face to hide the light peaking in from your blinds.

You're almost positive you closed the blinds and pulled the curtain over the prior night, but the thought doesn't sit much longer as you're lulled back into your slumber.

Hearing your alarm blare, a groan scratches at your throat as you smack your bedside desk, missing your phone entirely. Was your voice always this deep when you first wake up? You chalk it up to morning grogginess, deciding not to dwell on it any longer due to the obnoxious ringtone.

Also, did you even set an alarm? The thought sits at the back of your mind as you fiddle blindly for the sleep button.

It's Sunday, why would you even set one so early? How did you fuck that up?

Sitting upright, you blink blearily. Something feels off.

This isn't even your phone. These aren't your covers either...

The Godzilla posters decorating the walls definitely aren't yours, and this most certainly is not your room.

‘Hajime?’

You think looking around. This is definitely Hajime’s room. You hadn’t been in it in awhile, but it’s unmistakable.

You wrack your brain for the missing details, unfortunately coming to no result or explanation.

Why are you in Hajime’s room?! You didn’t drink last night, so there's no explanation for the missing details in your memory for how you wound up in his sheets. Also, he isn’t here currently.

What the hell?

Shoving the covers aside, you immediately notice your... significantly more masculine figure.

“What the fu—AH!”

Your surprisingly gruff voice startles you. Though, it’s not so much your voice, but Hajime’s.

Stumbling out of bed, nearly tripping over your tired legs, you barrel into Hajime's bathroom to check the mirror.

And despite all the clues handed to you, you're still completely stunned to see who's staring back at you in the mirror.

Your childhood best friend, Iwaizumi Hajime.

Cupping your hand over your mouth to stifle a scream, you pace back to the bedroom.

'It's a dream haha. A hyper realistic, very detailed, dream.'

You attempt to convince yourself as you slip back into the sheets, still warm, cursing your subconscious for forcing this abnormal dream onto your unwitting self.

Squeezing your eyes shut, twisting and turning, willing away your current situation, you realize... nothing is happening.

‘God damnit.’

You don't know who's fault this is, but it's probably Tooru's.

If you're Hajime then, yes you're starting to accept this fucked up situation, that that must mean Hajime is...

Shooting back up to a sitting position, you curse at the ache in your abdominal region. Jesus, how hard did Hajime go at practice?

Also, you can't believe you have Hajime’s abs right now.

Throwing on a random t-shirt and pair of sweats, decidedly not thinking about his abs, and how he was sleeping in briefs only, you jogs downstairs like a mad man.

Completely forgoing shoes, you cross the street and use the hidden key stuck in a potted plant to open the front door.

You're positive by now your parents have left for work, and Tooru is more than likely sleeping in after staying up late last night (no doubt pouring over tournament videos), so there's no chance for interruption from either party.

Not that your parents would question Hajime's presence, but you really aren't in the mood for doing small talk with your own parents while pretending to be Hajime.

You head straight up the stairs for your room, swinging the door wide open.

“That’s... me.... augh, this is so weird!”

You run a hand through your hair, almost startled by the different texture. This will definitely take some getting used to.

...Also, was Hajime’s hair always this soft?

You physically dash that train of thought from your mind, shaking your head. You remind yourself of the task at hand and your current dilemma, crossing the threshold of your room.

You shuffle over to the bed, climbing on top of the covers.

If that’s Hajime, he’s no doubt gonna freak out over seeing himself wake himself up.

Well, you might as well have fun with it.

“Hajime!”

You shake... yourself, watching your eyes blink open.

“Wha—?”

The physical-You blinks awake, catching eyes with physical-Hajime.

“What the f—”

You cover presumably Hajime's mouth (you're mildly hoping there hasn't been an awful three-way swap between you two and Tooru),

"Hajime! Confess to your sins!"

"I— What the fuck?! I haven't done anything! You're— How are you me! I'm me! Why is my voice—"

Hajime is quite clearly panicking and word vomiting his stress. And while it was a little funny at first, you're starting to feel a bit bad.

"Alright alright, before you go full panic, look in the mirror. I know this seems like bullshit, but it’s me!”

You lean back, gesturing to the mirror above the dresser.

Hajime’s eyes furrow, following your gesture before locking eyes with... Your eyes in the mirror.

But that’s definitely him moving like that, lifting his arms, tilting his head. Or rather, your arms, your head, fuck, this is confusing.

“Why the fuck am I you?” after a momentary pause, “What did Oikawa do?”

Hajime snarls, and it sounds odd coming from your tone.

“I was hoping you’d know the answer to that. I came here as soon as I woke up.”

“Well, this all better be a really fucked up, disgustingly realistic dream I’m having.”

Hajime sighs, rubbing his eyes.

“I really don’t think it is. I already went through that crisis.”

You pout, and Hajime raps you on the forehead.

“Don’t make faces like that with my face, you’re freaking me out!”

“Me? You have the biggest resting bitch face ever! It’s scary on me!”

His expression softens marginally, after a deep frown.

“Well... I guess we should figure out a way to fix this.”

“How’re we gonna do that!?”

You whine, and Hajime cringes at the way it sounded coming out of his mouth.

“No clue. In the mean time, we should try and keep this a secret and attend classes like normal. Also—”

He cuts himself, frowning deeply.

“What?”

“Shittykawa. Volleyball.”

“Aw fuck!”

You groan, falling back into your sheets at the foot of the bed.

“How are we gonna pull that off?!”

“Just talk to Oikawa like I would, and I’m sure I could... do the same.”

You somehow doubt that will work, and you can plainly see Hajime is going to have an issue conversing with Tooru in your mannerisms. Tooru has known the both of you longer than anyone else, and tends to be perceptive in and out of volleyball. Regardless, you have no choice but to have faith in Hajime's plan, even if it is lacking the finer details.

“As far as volleyball...?”

You tilt your head, chewing at your cheek at the thought of club activities in an entirely different body. Hajime rubs his hair, briefly startled by it being... not his hair.

You bring up very valid concerns. He's the ace of his team, you're a middle blocker for the women's team. Neither of you are especially privy to your respective team's plays or teammates.

“I’m sure we’ll catch on fast. We’ll just have to spend today teaching each other everything we need to know. At least we both know how to play, even if it’s different positions.”

He locks eyes with you slumped in the sheets, trying not to picture it as himself laying back in your bed. Realistically, it is him, but it isn't his mind. But now is not the situation whatsoever to be thinking about the suggestiveness of that image, so he shakes the thoughts from his head.

“Mm, guess you’re right. As far as school goes, our class schedule is pretty similar, so we can just study together. How bout we get ready and practice volleyball at the park?”

The unspoken ‘before Tooru wakes up’ hangs off your lips.

“Alright, I’ll get ready.”

He stands from the bed, before freezing and blushing heavily.

“Absolutely not!”

You match his blush, sitting upright in a flash.

“I-I’ll help you get ready! Just keep your eyes closed!”

You cry out, and Hajime turns his nose with a heavy blush.

“Like I’d open them!”

“Better yet—“

You snatch your uniform tie from your bedside table, wrapping it around Hajime’s eyes.

After tying off the makeshift blindfold, you ponder what transgressions you must have committed in your past life to be here undressing yourself as Hajime.

“God, this is so weird.”

You whine, awkwardly tugging your, Hajime’s, clothes off.

“How do you think I feel?!”

He snaps, but there’s less venom in the tone due to the pitch of your voice. There is a classic Hajime ring to it though, and your mildly impressed he pulled that off with your natural voice.

You make quick work of dressing him in athletic wear, not wanting to suffer in the stifling awkwardness any longer than necessary.

He removes the tie from his eyes, averting his gaze with pink still dusting his features.

“...”

“What now?”

You're worried to hear what he’s contemplating, and you certainly don’t like the sheepish, awkward expression stretching across his features.

“I really have to pee.”

“Haaaajiiimeee! Just hold it!”

You turn scarlet, and he glares.

“I can’t hold it forever! And who knows when we’ll be able to turn back. We might as well break the seal now.”

Ordinarily that kind of wording would be humorous, but you can’t find anything funny about the situation you’re currently in. Hajime stomps towards the bathroom, looking not unlike a toddler throwing a tantrum.

‘Damn, I really look like that?’

♡ ♡ ♡

“I can’t go with you staring at me!”

Hajime growls out, makeshift blindfold back in place. He has an inkling that he’ll be wearing this a lot now, but he can say for certain he never thought he’d be using a blindfold in this manner.

“You can’t even see me!”

“That’s not the point, I know you’re standing there!”

“Ugh, this is so humiliating! Just get it over with!”

You huff, slamming the door shut and flopping unceremoniously onto your bed, shoving your face into the pillows.

You hear the rush of water, good to know he washes his hands, and Hajime steps out of the bathroom feeling.... new, for lack of a better word.

“You’ll have to deal with it too, you know.”

He turns his nose, drying his hands on his pants, cheeks still hot.

“...I already did.”

You huff, and Hajime cries out with indignation at the revelation.

“What the fuck? And you made such a big deal out of—”

“You’re really packing!”

You stick your tongue out, and Hajime moves to legitimately strangle you and make an attempt at your life, not caring if it’s his own body.

“H-Hajime please, I was kidding, I haven’t gone yet, I swear!”

“Whatever!”

Upon closer inspection, you look way less threatening than Hajime ever did, but you hold back the snicker before Hajime can get too pressed about it.

“Let’s just go back to my place and get ready for practice.”

He huffs, trailing out of your room as you follow, relieved he’s calmed a bit.

Your relief is short lived however, and a panic washes over you when you think about how you'll have to go through Hajime forcing his clothes onto you.

[Masterlist] [✈Part 1, Part 2]

#hq!!#haikyuu!!#i really am just here for iwa content dont let my other stuff fool you #hqradiostation #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu reader insert #iwaizumi hajime/reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime x reader #haikyuu drabbles

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shoyokuto · 3 years

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-work for it

pairing: bokuto kotaro x reader

summary: while stumbling around at a college party you have no desire of being at, all you want is a white claw. in an attempt to find one, you run into a guy who happened to steal the last one. after leaving the kitchen, you had no clue you were going to have a much closer interaction with the same guy later that night.

wc: 4.1k

warnings: some fluff, some smut/implied smut, drinking/mentions of drugs, drunk bokuto and kuroo, high kenma and suna, bokuto being bokuto

author’s note: what’s a better first fic than a hot bokuto college au one? wellll here’s my first fic!! i had lots of fun writing it. it’s definitely not perfect, so please leave any constructive criticism/advice in my asks!! i would really appreciate it. also, picture campbell however you’d like, she’s my beautiful irl bsf who is obsessed with suna, so i just had to make her his gf in this. i will most likely be making a part 2 to this + other fics very soon! thank you so much, and i hope you enjoy<3

...

Goosebumps by Travis Scott blares through the speakers that line the hallways of the huge house made small by the hundreds of college students that filled it. The red and purple combination of the lights that ran across the corners of the walls of every room washed over you, making it difficult to focus on one thing, let alone find the person you’ve been searching for in the mess for an hour.

You’re only a few shots and one half cup of beer in and you’re already dizzy. The way you stumble through the crowds of people, pushing away the feelings of embarrassment and solemnity, looking lost as a puppy. Trying to find somebody- anybody. Your brain is fixated on finding a person- you don’t know who, or why this sudden jolt of the longing for someone suddenly sparked within you- you hadn’t seen your best friend Campbell since she got trailed off in a game of cup pong earlier with Suna. You hadn’t seen Kuroo or Kenma either. The only three people you knew at this party are somewhere in this damn house, having the time of her lives, while you’re wandering around, being the light weight you are. The sound of the music is muffled and the bass shakes the floor with every step you take, each footstep you take lands to the beat of the song playing. You step on the shoes of couples making out right in the middle of everything and have no feeling of remorse. The splash of someone’s drink hits your shoulder covered by your light sweater, which causes you to whip your head to the side and look the person up and down, vision blurred and streaked.

You stumble into what you think- think- is a kitchen. The purple lights no longer flooded the atmosphere; your weary eyes trying to adjust to the change in lighting and space. Your eyes trace the shiny marble counters that ran along the back of the tiled wall until they met the silver- probably super expensive- fridge. You guide yourself by putting one hand on the island in the middle of the kitchen, the other hand at your side until you meet the fridge door. You sluggishly raise it and grab the handle, slowly pulling it open. The light of the fridge almost blinds your intoxicated eyes, as you squint and blink and blink and blink.

As your eyes fix, they dart in different directions looking for the White Claw you’ve been longing for. All. Night.

Your desires are interrupted by the sound of liquid pouring into a cup behind you. The sound turns your head around slowly, your eyes still squinted and shoulders hunched. Your hand still grasped the handle of the fridge.

“Are you okay?” a voice sounds from the island of the kitchen behind you. It took a second for you to realize you had turned the wrong direction of the pouring noise you heard. You quickly turn the other way, finally meeting the gaze of a taller guy with spiked hair, dipped in grey highlights over black roots, accompanied by a pair of amber, owl-like eyes.

“Uh, yeah, I was um,” you swallow and scratch the back of your neck, “lookin’ for a White Claw.”

The guy raises his grey, thick eyebrows and makes a “tsk” noise with his tongue and taking a sarcastic, deep breath in. “That is really unfortunate because I actually just took the last one.”

He says, leaning against the island with one arm, as the other one is occupied with your White Claw in a red solo cup.

“You’re fuckin…damnit. Damnit Kenma,” You respond, turning back around to face the fridge. “and Kuroo and Cam.” You mumble shortly after.

“You know Kenma?” the guy asks, lifting his arm up from the island and straightening up.

“Yeah. Why do you?” You don’t turn around to answer, instead you grab a water from the freezer. You close the fridge and attempt to open the water bottle, but fail a couple times as your hand slips over the cap and your fingers start to hurt. You hope the guy doesn’t notice.

“Dude. He’s Kenma. Have you seen his fuckin keg stands?” he replies, walking towards you.

You hold the water bottle in both of your hands, staring straight into the doors of the fridge. You aren’t sure what’s happening completely, but you know you feel the footsteps of the guy approaching you. “I’ve seen them more than enough. He’s my friend’s roommate.”

“You mean Kuroo? You are one lucky duck there, aren’t ya? Your friend’s a stud.” The guy says. You think his footsteps have stopped; you can’t tell if you're just feeling your heart beat in your legs from the nerves or if it’s the steps of the guy’s feet towards you. “At least you seem to be enjoying yourself.” He says sarcastically. You shrug, absentmindedly starting to attempt to open the water bottle again.

“Want me to get that for ya?” the guy asks. And he might as well not have even asked, because he immediately takes the water bottle out of your hands and opens it as easily as he started the conversation. “Damn. How much have you drank, scrawny?”

“Did you just…I’m too fucked for this.” You said waving your hand in the air and starting to walk off.

You get to the entrance of the kitchen before the same voice you heard a few seconds ago- that called you scrawny- sounds again. “You forgot your water.”

You look down at your hands, and in embarrassment turn around and fidget with them as you walk back to the guy, who is now leaning back on the marble countertop. He had your last-resort water bottle in one hand, and your wanted White Claw in the other.

You grab the water bottle from the guys hand, not breaking eye contact with him. You did have to admit, the guy’s eyes were pretty mesmerizing. Maybe it’s just the shots talking, though.

“I’m sure I’ll see you around. What’s the name?” he asks, as soon as you had turned around to head for the exit a second time.

You hesitate as you turns back around again. “y/n.”

“Alright, y/n. I’ll make sure to keep an eye out for more White Claw. Except I don’t think you need any.” He says smirking, proceeding to take a sip out of his solo cup just to spite you.

You squint again, trying to process his words. “Yeah…” you respond in a confused tone, dragging out the word. You slowly turn around, still feeling the heat of the guy’s eyes burn through your back.

And now you’re back in the purple, hazy, crowded room you came from a few minutes ago. However, the trip to the kitchen for a delicious White Claw felt like hours, and you came back with an ice water that you couldn’t even open yourself. In fact, a hot stranger opened it. Your mind races as you slowly approach the cluster of people once again- an atmosphere you did not miss when in the kitchen.

If only you had a fucking White Claw.

You stand surrounded by frantic jumpers and dancers, the light of your phone shining onto your face. The line of text messages you sent to Kuroo and Campbell reflect onto your glossy eyes as you scroll up and down on the messages absentmindedly, waiting for a response like: “where are you?” or “let’s head back”. But still nothing. No vibration, no call, no nothing.

Your heart pounds, no longer in sync with the beat of the music, but speeding up as you hear the increasing volume of shouts and screams of encouragement from one of the rooms around you. Except you can’t tell where the noise is coming from, as the screams mold together and create a halo, surrounding your head. You squeeze your eyes shut as you pinch the bridge of your nose, until you realize you’re being run through by a crowd of eager partiers rushing past you. You feel the grazes of people's arms against yours, causing you to turn around, facing the direction of the room the people are so excited to get to.

Again, like your brain still hasn’t told you to give up, you whip your head around for Kuroo, or somebody, eyes widening despite the bags under them and your throbbing headache.

After a failure of search, you decide to head the way everyone else is, following whoever the random boy was in front of you. He had dark brown hair that was slightly combed down and raised in the back which absorbed the fluorescent lights that shone from the ceilings. He wore grey Nike sweatpants, if you were seeing correctly, some dirty air force ones, and maybe a…brown crewneck? Familiar looking, but you couldn’t tell under the obnoxious lights.

The mass of people in front of you come to a stop slowly, lining up in the shape of a circle on the inside of the group; too far for you to see in the conditions you were in.

You’re too caught up in your racing thoughts that you bump into the guy you were examining in front of you.

“Watch it.” He says as he whips his head around to meet yours. His hair was parted down the middle, definitely brown now that you could kind of see. He had snake-like eyes, the whites of them a little bloodshot, followed by a dark shade under them.

Wait.

It’s Suna. Your best friend’s boyfriend. You’re too drunk to recognize him?

“Hold on…Suna? Where’s…where’s Cam?” you ask, scratching your forehead.

“Oh, y/n. She’s up there.” He says, pointing his finger towards the inside of the large group of people.

“S-sorry,” you mutter, putting your hands behind your back. Your tired eyes look over and behind Suna, as you push yourself up and down on your tippy toes in an attempt to see over him.

“Do you know what’s happening right now?” you asked, finally giving up and resting the heels of your feet down.

Suna looks over to where he was pointing, his lips parted and his posture slouched over. “Keg stand.”

Your eyes widen as you put two and two together.

Kenma. Kuroo. Keg stand.

You take a heavy step towards the unknown mess in front of you, sliding past Suna. You didn’t realize how many layers of people you were going to have to push through in order to reach the inside of the crown, your heart speeding up along with your mind as the anxiety of not knowing what was on the inside of this circle fills your tight chest.

Is Kenma going to be doing the stand this time, or Kuroo?

You try to remember which one of them was holding the other up last time. Your mind flashes back to last weekend’s party; one that wasn’t near as crowded as this one. You try to retrace the sight of one of them holding the legs of the other, an extra cheering on whoever was downing the alcohol from the straw that extended form the keg as people shout one of their names. Which one was it? Did it sound like: “Ken-ma! Ken-ma! Ken-ma!” followed by a hooray and bursts of shouts, or was it “Kur-oo! Kur-oo! Kur-oo!” followed by the same type of celebration as Kenma’s. And for what? Just doing a handstand on a bucket while drinking? Sounds miserable to me, you thought.

You finally push through to the front and stumble when you accidentally step a little too far, as you end up in front of the people that lined the circle around the lives of the party. Kenma, Kuroo, and-

Wait.

Neither Kenma nor Kuroo are the center of attention this time.

It’s that hot guy from the kitchen.

The cheers start to finally enter your muffled ears which cause you to cover them, still looking in shock at the kitchen guy. His legs are straight up in the air, slightly bent and wobbly, but he somehow managed to keep them there. And even more amazingly, Kuroo, Kenma, and Campbell were just standing there. The kitchen guy didn’t even need to be held up.

What the hell, you thought, rubbing your eyes.

Finally, after hours of being left in the dust by him, Kenma’s eyes finally meet yours.

He’s high again. I wonder how much he smoked tonight.

“y/n!” Kenma yells, pulling on Kuroo’s red, long sleeved shirt while also tapping on Campbell’s shoulder. “Get your ass over here.”

You look around and hesitantly take heavy steps even farther into the center of the circle, the light fading into a reddish-purple as you got closer to them- and the kitchen guy, who was still going on the keg stand.

“Can you believe this guy?” Kenma says, laughing and pointing at the kitchen guy.

“I met him earlier.” You responded hoarsely.

“Yeah, Kuroo’s taken a strong liking to him. They’re like besties already.” he snorts, rolling his eyes sarcastically and shoving his hands into his pockets of his jacket.

With that, the guy props himself down from the keg stand and stands up straight, wiping his arm against his mouth and raising his fists into the air. Like he was some God, everyone in the crowd cheers and throws their hands up, yelling: “Bo-ku-to! Bo-ku-to! Bo-ku-to!”

Bokuto.

Kenma pats Bokuto on the back and Kuroo gives him a noogie. Bokuto pushes his face away and laughs, as he runs his hand through his spiked up hair. Campbell gives him a high five, and Suna finally makes his way over to her, giving her a kiss on the cheek and wrapping his arm around her waist.

You don’t realize you’ve been staring until Bokuto meets your gaze; his eyes widen.

“y/n!” Bokuto says, throwing his arms up. “Did ya see me? I mean, look how entertained a bunch of drunk college students can get. I’m uh-maze-ing.”

“Y-yeah.” You say, your mouth parted open. “How did you even-“

“I have something for you!” Bokuto interrupts, walking over behind the keg stand and bending over to grab something. He turns back round towards you, hiding something behind his back. He stumbles a bit with an attempted smile on his face.

“Huh?” you let out, eyebrows raised in confusion.

“Ta-da!” Bokuto says, revealing a White Claw out from behind his back, water dripping off of it. “Found some upstairs.”

We’re not upstairs already? You ask yourself.

The drink starts to make its way to your empty hand, when suddenly Kuroo interrupts, jumping in between you two.

“What the fuck? You found a Claw?” he asks, slapping Bokuto on the back in a friendly manner.

“Yeah. It was pretty fuckin’ easy, too. Bunch of light weights.” Bokuto responds, proceeding to hand you the drink.

Kuroo interrupts again by resting his hand on the White Claw and pushing it back towards Bokuto’s chest. “Hold on hold on hold on. You’re gonna give it to her that easily?” he says, laughing.

Bokuto looks at Kuroo, to you, then back to Kuroo. “Huh?” he says, his upper lip lifting along with his eyebrow.

“I meeaaannn,” Kuroo rests both of his hands on one of yours and Bokuto’s shoulders, “she has to work for it. White Claws don’t come that easily.”

Kenma, Campbell, and Kuroo are all staring at the three of you, and you soon come to realize the whole fucking party was staring at you guys, too.

You look at Bokuto with a very confused expression spread across your face, however, Bokuto’s seemed interested.

Kuroo gets on top of one of the tables near him, almost falling over as he pushed himself up. He cups his hand in a microphone manner so he could project his voice throughout the house for the crowd. “Who here had to go through war to get a fuckin White Claw tonight?” he yelled.

The crowd of people screams back at him, causing his eyebrows to raise and his head to nod. “Right, right. So,” he looks down at you from the table, and his finger is pointed at you while his other hand remained as a sound booster, “who here thinks y/n needs to work for the last one?” he proceeds to yell, throwing his hands up.

The crowd screams again, and you can feel sweat trickle down the back of your neck.

“Want me to do pushups or something?” Bokuto says, smirking.

“No. I want you guys…” Kuroo looks over at you, a smirk forming at his lips. “come here, Bo.” He says as he motions Bokuto over.

Bokuto walks over to Kuroo hesitantly, still holding the White Claw in his hand. “What the hell are you scheming right now?”

“Dude. Make out with her. You can’t just give her that precious thing.” He said in a loud whisper. “And you probably haven’t had action in weeks.”

“Seriously? Girls fuckin love me.” Bokuto replies, raising his eyebrows.

You can see Bokuto’s eyes widen as you watch them have the conversation, making your mind go in circles trying to find out what he could possibly be so surprised about. As your thoughts are racing, you see them both look at you, Bokuto crossing his arms. He starts to slowly walk over to you, the White Claw still in hand.

“Oh shit,” Kenma says, eyeing Kuroo who stayed in the place he and Bokuto were talking,his arms crossed and a smug look on his face. Looking at Suna and Campbell, Kenma says, “I know that look.” With that, Campbell and Suna giggle as they watch Bokuto flirtishly walk over to you.

Your heart pounded out of your chest; what was about to happen? Why were your friends laughing? You couldn’t think straight as Bokuto’s eyes fixated on yours as he walked towards you. There seemed to be a certain glare in his eyes, the yellows and ambers burning with lust as he stared straight into yours. You look over to Campbell and see her hands over her mouth as she stands next to Suna whose eyes are wide as well.

Interrupting your thoughts, you realize Bokuto had finally made it across the room to you. He stops only a couple inches in front of you, his hungry eyes looking down at yours. The White Claw in his hand was close to your chest, and you could feel the warmth of Bokuto’s body on yours.

“You want this drink, don’t you?” he asked, staring at your lips.

“Uh…yeah, I do.” You reply, looking back and forth between his lips and his eyes.

“Gotta work for it, pretty girl.”

Suddenly everything around you blurs: the shouts, the people, the purple lights, the music. All you could focus on was Bokuto’s presence and his need to want to be as close as he could to you. You two had just met, and he’s already like a magnet.

His hand slowly raises to cup your cheek, and his face moves towards yours. His eyes do not leave your lips.

Your heart races as you watch him get closer and closer, his body inching towards yours.

He stops slowly, his lips just inches away from yours, parted. You could feel the heat of his breath, and it made you fill with excitement.

“You alright with this?” he whispers.

“Yeah.” You reply, putting your hands on his shoulders.

He smirks at the reply and finally leans in.

Your eyes close on instinct as you feel Bokuto’s lips meet yours. He starts slow, his thumb rubbing against your cheek. However, he picked the pace up as hid hand moved from your cheek to your neck. Your hands still rested on his shoulders, and the slip of Bokuto’s tongue made you squeeze them. This only provoked him more.

He pulled back for a moment, looking into your eyes. This time, they were even more list filled. “Can I keep going?” he asked softly.

You nodded in response, closing your eyes again as he met your lips again. He looked into your eyes still and smiled, his finger pushing a loose piece of hair back behind your ear. His eyes soon returned to your lips as he leaned in for a second time. He pressed his tongue against your lips and you granted him access to your mouth once again. This time the kiss was slower and deeper. Your heart was spinning along with your mind, with every stroke of his tongue you could feel the pool of heat and the knot in your stomach build up.

His long kiss was rough but passionate, every now and then pulling back and biting your lower lip. You let him take control, and his touch was the best feeling you’ve felt in ages. His hands slowly move down from your neck to your waist, his fingers sliding over every curve of your body. This softness of his fingers as they slid down made you shiver, but you were still distracted by the passionate make out the hot guy you met in the kitchen was granting to you. You could feel him smile through the kiss as he pulled back and went back at you over and over.

The shouts and music suddenly get louder and less muffled as Bokuto slowly pulls back. Before he goes all the way back, he cups your face again and plants a kiss on the corner of your mouth.

Campbell, Suna, and Kenma are all leaning against each other, bouncing up and down and pointing at you and Bokuto. However, your attention remained on him.

The kiss was so amazing you almost forgot a whole room of people were watching, and that you were only doing it for a White Claw.

You smiled softly as you looked into Bokuto’s eyes, then to the White Claw.

Bokuto raises his empty hand once again to hold your chin with his pointer finger and thumb, lifting your chin up. The heated eye contact remained as your head tilted back.

“Open up.” He said, lifting the White Claw up to your mouth.

You followed his command and opened your mouth. You closed your eyes as you felt the cool liquid hit your tongue: the taste you’ve been craving all night.

However, the only thing you are still craving even more is Bokuto’s touch.

He tilted the drink back down and gently pulled your chin down to meet his gaze once again. Following this, he gently presses his lips to yours for a few seconds. “Mmmm,” he said, licking his lips and rubbing his finger in circles around his temple, “mango!” he followed, pointing his finger into the air. You giggled at this and nodded your head.

Campbell runs over to you and puts her hand on your shoulders, jerking you back and forth and screaming in your face. “That did not just happen.”

“I honestly can’t believe it did.” You replied, rubbing your eyes. You looked over at Bokuto who was standing next to Kuroo in the middle of a fist bump. Kuroo catches you staring and walks over to you.

“You’re welcome.” He said smiling.

“Thanks, K.” you replied patting him on the shoulder.

You walked back over to Bokuto who still had the half empty White Claw in his hand.

“I think I deserve the rest.” You said scratching your head.

“Um, I practically just carried that whole kiss. I think I deserve at least half.” He said while raising his eyebrows and placing one hand on his hip.

“Wow.” you replied laughing. “Who said?”

“I said.” His expression turned more serious. “Maybe you can work for the rest later.”

This caused you to clench your fists and tug at the neck of your sweater. You could feel sweat run down your forehead and your cheeks flush red.

“Cute.” He said with a smile and a laugh, proceeding to take a sip of your White Claw.

“Excuse me.” You said, reaching up for the White Claw in his hand as he raised it as high as you could so you couldn’t reach. Your hand grasped the wrist of the Hand the drink was in and you were up against his chest, both of you laughing the little sobriety you had off of you.

The teasing was halted by the sound of sirens from outside of the house.

Shit. Cops.

“Oh shit,” you heard Bokuto say as he brought the White Claw down. With no warning, he took your hand and started off with you, pushing through the crowd of worried, drunk teenagers. You frantically looked around for Campbell, Kenma, or Kuroo, but had no sight of any of them through the rush of people. “Don’t worry y/n, I can take us somewhere.” He said looking back at you.You looked at him and your mind wandered.

Bokuto seemed like a natural at everything- keg stands, making out, getting away from the cops.

How are you so into him already?

#haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #bokuto #bokuto x reader #bokutokotaro #haikyuu x reader #college au

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isuspectyouhavefantheories · 3 years

Text

Search for the Sun 🌞

So this is Part 2 of “the Sun” series.

Part 1 found : https://isuspectyouhavefantheories.tumblr.com/post/640838971892662272/the-crossroads-to-the-sun here!

Ok so, NSFW, I can’t figure out how to make this appear shorter or have it appear under the cut cus mobile Tumblr sucks eggs. You heard me.

Takemura/Female V fic

Rated MA, for mature, sexual themes, read at own risk.

—————————————-

Somewhere in the Mojave....

“We need a new carburettor for this thing V and someone’s gonna have to re-solder this whole board before we can even do that! We aren’t going to be getting our cargo vans very far like.” Saul sighed, closing the hood of the large van with a heavy thud as he wiped the grease and dust from his hands. His expression was his usual deeply worried frown and she noticed how even as he wiped his hands clean they remained oil stained and grubby. He’d been toiling over engines all day, putting one fire out after another.

“I’ll see what Mitch and I can do but it’s gonna take a little while. We’re already trying to get a handle on repairs to the solar panels and honestly that’s the thing I want to make sure we have fixed before night fall. We can stop for the night, recuperate.” She gave him a pointed look that he only waived off. “I’ll fix up the vans in the morning and we can get going after. We have some time before the next storm, quit your worrying.” V offered, punching his arm lightly, Saul only smiled in return.

“How’d you end up being my second in command? I thought that was supposed to be Panam?” He chuckled.

“She’s got her hands full at the moment.”

“With?”

“Dick.”

Saul balked at her and V only waggled her eyebrows, nodding her head in the direction of a lightly rocking AV on the outskirts of camp.

“Incidentally, his name is also Dick.” She chuckled.

“God damnit, PANAM!” She watched in mild amusement as Saul stormed away toward the aforementioned vehicle to reprimand his second for her blatant public fornication. So she heaved herself forward, ignoring the mild ache in her body and forcing her legs and arms to continue obeying her. V decided that she would save herself the mental anguish of tangling with the solar grid and get out of camp for an hour at the least. Evidently fighting burning migraines and muscle spasms was trying at the best of times, especially when attempting to keep up with her duties to the clan.

She didn’t want to sit around and be a burden on them, regardless of Saul and Panam’s insistence on her getting more rest. In truth, she loathed inactivity, too much time to start thinking, or worse, listening to Johnny, who was still holding out the hope she was going to turn the clan around and storm Mikoshi instead of this slow shicide she had carved out for herself instead. The twilight hours were the worst, because there was nothing she could do, hours she had spent staring at her tent roof, only to give up and lay under the stars, at least then she had something to occupy her. It had been especially hard the last few nights and she had more than once woken to Saul staring down at her with a worried look she would wave off and tell him that really, she was fine, dusting the sand from her and continuing on with her day at camp.

She admired the location for what it was, they had chosen a decent spot for the camp and they had some useful vantage points. Any Raffen trying to get the jump on them would be in for a surprise, they’d see their asses a mile wide.

She pulled Evelyn’s cigarette case from her utility belt pocket, igniting it with a match she then shook out to extinguish as she breathed a long drag.

“Fuuuck.” Johnny groaned appreciatively.

“You’re welcome.” She laughed as she gazed at the expanse of the desert. It’s wild beauty marred by burnt out car wrecks and pile upon pile of garbage. Her eyes landed on yet another old ruined petrol station. She couldn’t help but let her mind wander back to the week previous. Her night with Takemura had been everything to her. Laying there in his arms, basking in the beautiful aftermath listening to him breath as he slept, watching the steady rise and fall of his partially plated chest. She had wanted nothing more in the world than to just stay there in that abandoned truck stop, for the rest of their lives they could be there and she’d have been the happiest woman alive. But as she stared down at his sleeping face she knew she was living a pipe dream.

He was loyal to the bone to Arasaka. She would never be enough, she could never pry those chains from him. Even knowing what she had told him, about Hanako and Saburo, she imagined he had dusted himself off the next morning and returned to his master tail between his legs like the well trained guard dog they made him into. Why wait until morning to watch him fumble and ruin a perfectly good fuck, one for the history books, by seeing him slink back to the clutches of the Emperor’s family? Just to feel the raw sting of his departure, the rejection in his blind obedience to the people that saw him only as a pawn to be played. No. She decided to rip the proverbial band aid off. She was a quiet and stealthy thief, expertly manoeuvring around him in silence and then pushing her thorton far enough out of ear shot from him then just... driving away. She had to admit, it was shitty. To just leave him there without so much as a goodbye. But she knew if she had waited it would have been another day of trying to convince him to let her go.

Or he might have even managed to convince you to go back to Arasaka.

Johnny’s interjection to her train of thought startled her and she watched him materialise, cigarette in hand, perching with his legs dangling from a delapidated hoodoo rock a few yards in front of her.

“I wouldn’t have gone with him Johnny. I wasn’t going to just let them shred you into bits, fuck man, gotta give me more credit than that.” She was annoyed he could even insinuate such a thing, especially given where they now stood.

“You didn’t take your blockers during your little roll around with Mr Miyagi.” He groaned and her cheeks immediately flushed a deep crimson. “I know you were thinking it for a moment there in the... aftermath.” He sighed, looking down at her from his perch.

He took off his aviators and pursed his lips as if he was about to say something pivotal to the narrative but more than likely just as irritating as his previous comment so he decidedly closed his mouth, thinking better of it and returning his gaze to the endless desert plains. The fact that she could read him so well now was not lost on her.

“I wasn’t going to let them hurt you. Believe it or not you’re my friend, Johnny.” He glanced down at her again and a smile attempted to tug at the corner of his lips but he put his shades back on and coughed into his closed fist to cover it up.

“Well thanks. I guess. Doesn’t matter now anyway. We’re done for as is I suppose.” He breathed out a plume of holographic smoke that seemed to float off into the desert. “But you’re still thinking about him.” He deadpanned, making her sigh in irritation.

“Look.. it just kills me because... Goro was my friend too. And now he’s...” she smoothed her hair back from her face, letting her hand slide to the nape of her neck and head drooping down to look at her weathered and scuffed steel toe boots, her tool belt slung across her hips, held together by the tied sleeves of her blue net running jumpsuit she had to wear half down due to being in the beating sun while working all day. She could see her skin was already blistered with another light sunburn but also some sun freckles newly blooming. Her hands, more calloused and rough now than in her entire career as an amateur merc. She frowned. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I’m here now Johnny. I know that I shouldn’t keep living in the past but... let me at least mourn. Please?”

“Alright, alright. I get it. Here, just take some advice from a guy who’s had to... leave behind a few broken hearts in his day. Get drunk. Get fucked. Get angry. Get over it. Always worked for me anyhow.” She rolled her eyes at the rocker boy, letting her hand fall to her side, taking the last drag of her cigarette wasn’t even appealing to her so she quickly flicked it away.

“Aw.” Johnny grumbled. “The cherry is the best bit!” He whined but she ignored him. V made to turn back to the camp but some faint movement along the horizon caught her eye. She pulled out her binoculars and got as close as she could to the slightly glimmering and fast approaching object. Upon closer inspection she realised it was a car. And not just any car.

His car.

She froze, glued to the vehicle rapidly approaching the camp.

What the fuck does he think he’s doing?

-———

He admitted to a small amount of apprehension about this move to approach head on as he pulled up alongside the Basilisk, giving it a long stare and praying silently to whatever gods were out there watching over him that he had found the right Nomad camp this time. He had already had to blast his way out of two raffen pits as of yesterday and wasn’t thrilled about the possibility of having to do so again.

A tap on his car window brought him from his thoughts and he rolled it down.

“What brings you here, friend?” Mitch asked, Saul and Panam on the sidelines, iron at the ready.

“I apologise for the intrusion. I mean you no harm, I am simply attempting to locate someone. A friend.” He explained.

“Who’s your friend?” Saul called after him.

“Her name is V.” The Nomads grew quiet, looking between each other. “Perhaps she has passed by here? Stopped for supplies?”

“Excuse me?” Panam sputtered.

“V doesn’t have ties to Arasaka anymore. Suggest you move on.” Saul moved closer to the car window, pushing past Mitch.

He leaned his arm against the top of the car door frame, letting his revolver rest against it in a menacing if threatening show of dominance. This here was the Aldecaldos stomping ground. And he’d be dead in the ground before he let some corpo asshole get their hands on V. Takemura’s eyes hardened a moment on the large nomad, his hands righting on the wheel now as he internally scanned the area with what limited tech he still had to work with. She searched for her signature but either his implants were all now truly offline or she wasn’t here.

“I am not with Arasaka.” Takemura thought he would feel pain at uttering those words, but if anything, each word made him feel lighter.

“Yeah sure. Just covered in Arasaka cyberware, driving around on Arasaka wheels, wearing a full on uniform for their security detail. Totally.” Panam quipped.

Takemura sighed.

“Anymore.” He amended, but the trio still eyed him sceptically, he felt it best he stayed in the car for now.

“Is she here?” He questioned, quickly surveying the camp to try and find her himself, a small kernel of hope planting in his chest as he looked through the small crowd that had gathered by them, hopeful to catch a glimpse of her but Saul’s hand reached out for him roughly, pulling him up to the open window by the front of his shirt with a resounding clunk.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at here but if you think for a second I’m just gonna let you-.”

“Saul. Stop. It’s cool.” Takemura’s head whipped over Saul’s shoulder to the source of the voice. His heart clenched painfully upon seeing V finally.

She was a vision. Almost like a beautiful mirage that had been conjured up by the desert heat and his possible dehydration but upon closer inspection he knew it had to be her. Her every freckle and scar burned into his memory, he would know here anywhere, even caked in soot and sand.

“V, come on, we don’t even know if he’s got people tailing him. We’ve already got our hands full with Militech for Christ’s sake, let’s not go adding to that pile.” Saul glared down, unconvinced by Takemura’s own words.

“I wouldn’t be saying this if I thought he was a danger. He’s not. Please just let me talk to him.” Saul groaned but he made the mistake of meeting her gaze and knew there was no telling her no so he released Goro and opened the door to the car.

“Out. Follow her.” Saul grumbled, hand still leaning against the top of the door, but before Takemura could step out funny a strong hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Try and pull any funny shit though and I’ll drop your ass myself. No hesitation.” Takemura hadn’t realised just how big Saul was before but did not let that deter him.

“I will be sure to keep it in mind.” Goro responded in an uninterested tone, not really registering him, only focusing on V, before quickly making his way to her side. He reached out for her but she had already turned away and was walking up to a trailer, ascending a small flight of stairs before reaching the screen door. She threw him a look over her shoulder and motioned with her head for him to follow.

—————-

Once inside the privacy of the trailer V rounded on him, her eyes filled with confusion and anger.

“What the fuck, Goro?” She hissed. “Why are you here?”

He swallowed thickly, never realising that even through all his fighting to get back to her side, he had never even put his reasoning into words. And he had always had a defined reason for everything he did, it was something he was fucking known for. But now, standing here he couldn’t even begin to rationalise any of his actions, only that being here now already felt more right than anything in his life ever had. He opened and closed his mouth like a gaping fish. She noticed his silence but was quickly distracted by his haggard appearance. Her eyes widened however at the lack of the dim lights on his cybernetics.

She reached for him cautiously, her fingertips brushing against the red outer wiring of his throat that no longer glowed with the hum of electronics and now simply shined in the dim light, essentially now just useless plastic.

“Your implants...” she whispered, tracing her finger down the line of the metal overlay of his neck and to the edge of his jaw, Goro watching her every motion with laser focus. “Why are they..?”

“They were deactivated when I failed to return a few days ago.” he wanted to reach for her, to touch her, that’s all he’s thought about day and night since she left him. “I was starting to think I was going to die out there before I found you.” He chuckled softly yet he inwardly savoured how close she was, her scent, near unchanged since their night together. The scent was now infused with a small background of motor oil now that clingged to her hands but it was strangely fitting for her.

“Why?” She whispered angrily at him, her eyes burning with unshed tears.

He raised his own hand now to weave with hers, holding it to his heart as he stared down at her with so much sureness, so much care and devotion that she felt unworthy.

“I defected, V.” Her eyes widened at him but still she said nothing. “I am... I can’t go back. If you only have a short time left, then... there isn’t anywhere else I want to be. I want to be here with you, I don’t want to miss a second of you ever again. I-.” He closed his eyes, terrified to see her reaction but was nearly sent spinning as she thrust herself without warning at him, her arms suddenly wrapping around his shoulders. His own arms instinctively wrapped around her, returning the embrace yet part of him still feared the worst.

Did she pity him? Is that why she said nothing? Was this her letting him down gently? She was always too kind for her own good.

“Goro... oh my god.” She breathed against him and he tightened his grip around her burying his face in her neck, breathing her in deeply. Feelings of peace, serenity, a meaning in his life he had been searching for ever since he escaped the slaughter house of Chiba-11. He thought that meaning was to serve those who had uplifted him from that barbaric place. But they didn’t save him. They used him.

It was this tiny trembling powerhouse of a woman that barrel assed her way into his life and irrevocably entangled herself with him, she had been the one who reignited his purpose. Opened his eyes and never lied to him. She had never left him behind. Only when she thought he was truly beyond her reach did she finally resign herself to letting him go.

But now, in the security of her arms, he knew he was never going to let that happen again.

“I can’t believe I finally found you...” he breathed, letting the feeling of her arms around him be engraved deeply in his heart, the lines on his face began slowly relaxing as he stroked the dip of her back gently.

V finally looked up at him and he swiped away some stray tears from her slightly flushed cheeks with a curled finger before caressing them in his hand fully. He stared down at her with an adoration she had never imagined him capable of, it felt to her as though she had never been truly seen before now and could only grasp his outstretched arm and reach for the back of his head pulling his face closer to hers when he finally moved forward, reuniting her lips with his in a passionate kiss. Her fingertips grazed over his jaw lightly, drawing a sigh from him and letting it meld into the kiss as he tried desperately to hold her closer.

She pulled back from him but his lips trailed after hers again, loathed to be parted from her just yet, but she placed two fingers on his lips to halt his pursuit and worry shot through him again.

“I think we should explain to the clan before Saul comes in here and decks you.” She chuckled, reaching up to kiss him on the cheek sweetly and he leaned into her touch, the sudden panic receeding, before smiling back at her and nodding. She made to move to the door, hand already pulling the handle open when his own grasped her free one and interlaced their fingers, grinning like a cat down at her.

“So they don’t shoot me on sight.” He joked, V could only huff lightly but her own smirk betrayed her feigned annoyance.

“Hush. Be nice.” She snipped.

They stepped out of the trailer and at the bottom of the stairs to the trailer was the holy Aldecaldos trinity themselves. Panam looked between the two and their interlock hands with mild confusion first before realisation dawned on her and she mouthed ‘that’s him?’ rather more obviously than she thought she had but never the less winked at friend.

Goro looked down at her curiously but V just shook her head.

“She’ll tell you herself at some point.” V whispered, leaving him far more confounded than before.

“So? What’s this about?” Saul stood in front of them now arms crossed but glaring heatedly at Takemura.

“Drop the tough guy act Saul come on.” She shoved him playfully but Saul only scowled deeper. “He defected.” Saul’s eyebrows rose in surprise for a moment but suspicion reaffirmed itself at the forefront of his mind once more.

“Bullshit.” Saul spat.

“I left Arasaka because I no longer believe in them.” He looked down at V’s hand in his and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “I believe in V. And she has put her trust in you and your clan. I wish to stay with her. You know that... she does not have long.” She squeezed him

back at this, hearing the slight waiver in his voice at that but he continued. “I will work, I will do whatever is needed of me in order to stay by her side.” He bowed his head politely and Saul was at a loss for words, casting his gaze back to Panam and Mitch but only receiving a tired sigh and a shrug from Mitch and a rather heated scowl from Panam that said ‘if you don’t let the ninja stay I’m going go get an emp and blast an AV out of the sky again’, and Saul could only sigh tiredly. He rubbed his forehead with the heel of his palm in a gesture of defeat but his eyes spoke an understanding and no inherent objection to the arrangement.

“Alright. You work, like the rest of us. We all pull our own weight here and there’s plenty to do.” Panam fist pumped in the air and squealed with glee, making V laugh at her antics but Saul gave her an exhausted look before grinning devilishly. “ Since there’s another mouth to feed and person to arm, we’re gonna need to do a recount on inventory. Thanks for offering to do it Panam.” Saul rounded on his heel, making for his own tent as the orange pink swash of dusk settled over the desert. Mitch followed after while Panam gave her a quick pat on the shoulder before departing to her new hell, inventory.

“Look at you guys, just the picturesque happy couple living on the edge of the law, running with nomads, being all in love and shit. Warms my cold dead pixilated heart.” Johnny drawled as he leaned up against the trailer.

V chose to ignore him but grinned Takemura wrapped his free arm around her and rested his head atop hers as he rubbed loving circles into the small of her back, she sighed into his chest and grinned like a fool. Nothing was going to bring her mood down. Not raffen, not Johnny, not the broken to shit solar panels.

She groaned suddenly at the memory of her ever growing list of chores left.

“V?” He questioned, straining his neck down to see her.

“Fucking solar grid.” She hissed ruefully into his shoulder before pulling away.

“I’ve got some solar panels to fix and a carburettor to solder before the day is over.” She groaned, but Takemura squeezed her reassuringly.

“Lead the way.” He chuckled.

“You want to help?” She asked incredulously.

He brushed his hand through her soft chocolate brown coloured locks, twirling the tail ends around her shoulders between his thumb and index. He had a feeling his new unconscious obsession was going to be her hair.

“I’m going to have to learn aren’t I?” He chuckled. “And I have a feeling I’m going to like being your student. Lead on, sensei.”

She giggled before pulling away from him, hands still interlaced as she tugged him towards the solar panels on the far side of camp.

—————

“Welcome to solar grid maintenance 101, class is in session.” She announced.

Goro sat on a rock beside the van, next to the start of the solar grid that went from the back of the van to the further reaches of the edge of their camp, with a small group of four guarding the grid perimeter at all times. He noticed a few of them giving him wary or curious looks but did his best to ignore them. He was sure in time he would seem less threatening but he knew he would only achieve this through time, example and not relying only on shows of good faith. He leaned forward, arms resting against his knees, watching as she peeled back a flexible plastic covering over the front of the panel, uncovering a plated and wired grid he assumed is what absorbed power from the Sun.

“Ok, so. You need a fully wired and calibrated solar panel, batteries, a charge controller and an inverter.” She gestured to each item in front of her. “Once you have these it’s just a matter of following instructions. Then you gotta figure out what your output is gonna be, simply calculate watt hours by using each of the electric tools and machinery’s power ratings, multiplied by the time in hours it will be running...” He continued to listen to her intently, taking mental notes as she went on and was pleasantly surprised by how much she knew. The woman was practically a walking, talking encyclopaedia for off grid living.

He imagined she had learned this with her original nomad clan.

“And... vóila!” The grid hummed to life, the electrical tickering and slight glow from the panels confirmed this. “And tomorrow you’re gonna help me dismantle, clean and stow them.” She slowly rose from her kneeling position but wobbled a bit, Takemura’s lightning fast reflexes kicked into action and he reached out to stabilise her. She gave him a sheepish yet thankful smile.

“Are you-?”

“Just light headed, I stood up to fast.” His levelled gaze cut through her, narrowed eyes studying her intently. “And we’ve been sitting in the sun for an hour. I’d say I could go for something to eat though. Haven’t had anything since last night come to think of it.” She pulled away, attempting to move away from the subject of her health as quickly as she could, but her hand stayed resting open palmed against his chest as she stared almost through him. She still couldn’t believe he was here. Standing next to her in the flesh. She couldn’t even really fathom eating right now but she knew she had to at least try to keep her strength up. But fucking damn. Of all the ways this day was going to go, this was certainly not one of them, not that she was complaining.

His finger captured her chin and tilted her gaze to his, pulling her from her thoughts as if he could sense her inner turmoil.

“What is the expression, ‘I am here for the...’ ah.” He looked up to think an moment as if the phrase was written in the sky before seemingly finding it among the clouds and looking back down at her, grinning from ear to ear. “‘I am... ‘In this for the long haul’, as you say.” She snorted a laugh at him letting her head fall foreword against him as he pulled her further into his embrace. “So stop looking at me as if I’m going to suddenly disappear.” Her fingers squeezed his in response and she looked up resting her chin on his shoulder now.

“Promise?” She whispered, making his chest rumble in laughter.

“Yakusoku.” He affirmed before kissing her forehead loving.

————————————

They had eaten their fill of some synth beef chilli at the camps mess tent and Goro wasn’t about to disclose how much he had actually enjoyed the hot meal. Wandering around in the desert for a week he had been living off of whatever least expired protein bars and soda cans he could find, which had been almost as awful as the scop burgers and noodles in night city, but at least they had been some way warm.

They had made their way to V’s tent which was set up next to her Thorton and some work benches and a trailer with two bikes standing in it. He recognise one to be her beloved Arch and the other a gold and silver heavy terrain 700cc bike with the clans name spray painted boldly along the side of it.

“Here we are. Home sweet home I guess. For now.” She sighed, flopping down into her large sleeping cot with a heavy plop. Takemura stood awkwardly for a moment before fastening the entrance flap closed. There was a fold up chair and two electric lamps illuminating the small space. He suddenly felt out of place but V was quick to pick up on his uncharacteristic fidgeting, giving him an inquisitive glance.

“Cot’s a bit small but we can manage for tonight. Or there’s another cot in storage we can go and-.” Takemura shook his head.

“We can manage.” He grinned sheepishly and she giggled at him, taking a seat on the edge of the cot, patting the spot next to her as an invitation to join her. He took two long strides and he was at her side once again, his hand snaking around her waist as he leaned his head gently on her shoulder. Leaning into him, V interlaced their free hands together, marvelling at how well they fit together.

“You must be exhausted.” She sighed, extending her hand to his face where she swiped away a errant few strands of silver hair that escaped his otherwise well kept topknot, her cool fingers a welcome sensation against his forehead.

“Not really.” He stifled a yawn and she looked up at him pointedly, his own gaze eluding her.

“Evidently.” She chuckled, but a sudden flash of inspiration hit her and she grinned up at him.

“What are you doing?” He asked warily as she began to slink herself around to kneel in front of him, her hands running up and down his thighs in a firm yet teasing trail.

“Well we do have a lot to do in the morning and you require a good nights sleep for what’s coming.” He eyed her suspiciously but couldn’t help the small grin threatening to tug at the corner of his lips. “Couldn’t possibly let you lie awake all night and screw yourself over tomorrow.” She ran her hand over the growing bulge at the apex of his legs, which he opened wider as she settled between them.

“V...” he breathed his head beginning to loll back and eyes flutter closed, his breath hitching she she unzipped him and pulled him of the confines of his suit pants, his member springing free, already fully hard. She gave him some light pumps, enclosing her fist around as much of him as she could. He wasn’t a monster in size, but impressive.

“Speaking of impressive cocks.” Johnny’s voice pierced her mind and she wanted to scream. “Can we leave mine out of this. Please, if yourself gonna fuck the corpo grandpa just take a fucking omega blocker so I don’t have to as well.” She shook her head and sighed, pulling away from Goro.

His eyes fluttered open.

“Is something wrong?” He breathed.

“Just gotta take something before I forget.” She smiled back at him reassuringly before popping two of the red pills.

She turned back to him and something about seeing him sitting there, disheveled clothes, cock standing to attention, lips parted and panting lightly in anticipation, sent a rush of some indescribable feeling through her system. He watched her hungrily but patient in his pining, she couldn’t help the heat between her own legs beginning to rise. She locked their gaze, lips still curved into her signature teasing grin and she began to pull off her tank top painfully slowly, dragging it up to her chest. He watched her relieve her body of the sweat and dirt stained cloth throwing it over her head and groaned lowly when he saw she wasn’t wearing anything underneath save for her tattooed flesh. Lotus flowers bloomed colourfully at her shoulders, and just between her pert little breasts. He traced them with his eyes and felt his body tense in suspense as she saunter toward him, a sultry sway in her hips saying she knew exactly what she was doing to him. She sank down to her knees again before him, her fingers wrapping around his still hard manhood making him hiss at the contact before a strangled gasp tore from his throat as she resumed pumping him again. He reached out his hand to touch her but she slapped him away lightly.

“Ah, ah, ah.” She wagged her finger tauntingly at him, then running them down his chest back down to curl back around his member, giving him a tug that made him groan once more. “Look. Don’t touch.” She then began to lower her lips to him, his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head as she encased him in her warm pink lips, her devilish tongue flicking along the sensitive underside of his cock. He moaned louder as she moved against him but forced his hand over his mouth to stifle himself. They weren’t alone out here so he had to remember to control his vocalisations but she was not making it easy.

He leaned back further down on his elbows watching her intently through hooded eyes as she devoured him, her mouth sinking down slowly, taking him all the way to the hilt letting him hit the back of her throat with an audible gag that made him whine in need then gliding back up, dragging her lips back to the tip, letting her tongue swirl around him a few times before swallowing him once again. He struggled against his urge to fist his hands into her hair as she kept up her ministrations, fearing she’d stop what she was doing, because what she was doing was so fucking good he thought he was going to die if she didn’t finish.

“V... please I’m going to....” he gasped, one hand stretched out behind him as he bit the knuckle of his other hand to surpress his cries.

He felt her chuckle against him, his end so close he could practically taste it as she continued to bob energetically against him. A few more pumps and he had to bite his knuckle so hard he drew blood so as not to roar from the force of his climax, blowing his load in her mouth which she swallowed it readily. He swore he saw stars for a moment, a blinding light show all of his own as he rode the high for as long as he could until he fell back against the cot, attempting to catch his breath as V released him from her mouth with a faint pop.

She pulled herself up and crawled over him, resting her chin against his chest that now rose and fell erratically from his ragged breathing, waiting there patiently for it to even. He lifted his head to look at her, small beads of sweat clinging to his forehead but a stupidly pleased grin now plastered his face as he lifted a hand to caress her cheek and stroked her cheekbone with the pad of his thumb tenderly. He held her there for a moment, unsure if it was the aftermath of his climax or the low lighting of the tent, but to him, right now in all her dishevelment, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever beheld. He dragged her up to him, lips meeting hers at last, tasting her felt like home, regardless of the lingering taste of himself on her lips. Goro pulled her closer to deepen the kiss before pulling away to gaze at her agin. She was the one panting now, her full pink lips, that had only a few moments been driving him to near insanity were parting enough for him so see her devilishly nimble tongue and the flush dusting her cheeks was starting to do things he didn’t know could be done, his member already twitching to life again, slowly but surely.

“You feeling more relaxed then?” Her laugh, like a tinkling bell, brought his attention back into the room and he could only smirk down at her slyly.

“Partially.” He lifted himself up fully wrapping his arms around her then flipping them so she was trapped underneath him. “But I’m afraid I’m more awake now than I was before.” He whispered, lowering his lips to suckled at her collarbone where he began to trail a searing line of bites and kisses down her chest, stopping to tease her nipples as he lavished them thoroughly, leaving her shivering and gasping uncontrollably beneath him. “The opposite of the desired effect I think.” He chuckled lowly, lifting his hand to her mouth and clamping firmly over it to quieten her mewls while he began to drag the fingers of his other hand up to the bottom half of her netrunner jumpsuit. Untying the sleeves he pulled the zipper further down to the end. It reached just above her mound, a few more inches on the zip and he’d have been able to access her. Shame, he though but immediately tugged the skintight nano plastic material down over her hips, her purple thong coming with it. He didn’t pull it all the way down, allowing the material to bunch at her knees before pulling back, letting both her legs stretch up to rest against his shoulder as he stared down at her, a shit eating grin breaking over his lips as he soaked in the sight of her, trapped in his web. She huffed at him in mild displeasure at the loss of control but her eyes widened when she felt his fingers trace her slit softly. His arm curled around her legs, anchoring them against him as he continued to tease her.

“What are you-?” He silenced her with two fingers plunging inside her, making her arch her back as she barely managed to stifle a moan. He thrust his fingers into her wetness again and again, all while his gaze fixed on her face, contorted by pleasure as he took delight in her every twitch and convulsion.

He let another finger enter her, curling them, tickling a sensitive collection of nerves inside her. Her juices dripped down his hand, his attention switching down to where his fingers pumped relentlessly and he felt himself moan at the sight of her absolutely soaking his hand. He felt his cock strain against her thigh but he ignored his growing need. He had work to do. She nearly cried out when he stopped, her eyes finally fluttered open to see him gazing down at her, smirking triumphantly above her.

“Hey.” She pouted, wiggling against him only making him chuckle quietly.

He pulled her legs free finally, tossing the jumpsuit to the far corner of the tent but trailing his hands from the underside of her thighs, to the under side of her ankles, yanking up sharply which pulled her further down the cot so her ass now rested on his lap. Her ground himself against her, his free member brushing against her slit as he draped each of her legs against either shoulder. He leaned foreword her legs stretching to rest nearly by her ears with how flexible she was. Without warning he entered her, both of them gasping quietly. He filled her so completely, V let the feeling wash over her until he began moving at an achingly slow pace. He found purchase at the head of the cot, using it to drive himself harder and harder into her. Reaching up she caressed his head in her hands, his eyes closing at the contact, savouring it, then opening again to see her.

His breath hitched in his throat, not just at the majesty of her wild curls fanned out and framing her so perfectly. Not at her being stretched and splayed out for him, like a cover pin up they used to sneak into the army barracks, back when he did foolish brazen things like that, no. The trust in her eyes. She was letting him take control, letting him take her, however he wanted. She wasn’t scanning the room for the nearest viable exit like she did in every room or so far away in her mind he wondered if she could even hear him above the noise of the engram erasing her. She was right here, willing and ready for him. He wasn’t going to last long, not after already climaxing earlier but he refused to leave her hanging, letting his thumb roll her clit firmly, over and over. He leaned forward to swallow her cries as she came undone beneath him, his own release coming not to far behind her.

He leaned back, letting her legs down on either side of his hips, but stayed connect with her. He leaned back into her, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her nose then her lips, making her smile sleepily against him.

“You’re still in your clothes.” She taunted against his shoulder as he chuckled.

“It’s hard to think about anything clearly with you around.” He mumbled against her neck.

“Hey, don’t you dare fall asleep on me dickhead.” She snorted, poking him enough to make him groan then move to the side, allowing her to stand up from the cot. She walked over to a duffel bag where she pulled a loose white shirt from and threw it on. The fabric reached her knees and he scoffed at how small she was.

“Oi, no sand in my bed, get those dusters off.” She ordered and he sighed, pulling himself from his bliss to shed his coat and other garments leaving him only in his boxers. He fell back into the cot heavily, rubbing his eyes as a yawn escaped his lips. She rejoined him, crawling and moulding herself into his side while his arms immediately snaked around her as he buried her face into the crook of her neck, V stroking his hair soothingly.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he went to sleep without knowing where he was going to be tomorrow and not caring in the slightest.

#goro takemura #cyberpunk 2077 #takemura x v #goro takemura x v #goro x v #takemura goro x v #takemura goro #the sun #search for the sun

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erin-bo-berin · 4 years

Text

Jealousy

MASTERLIST

I wrote this fic AGES ago back when I first watched the season 14 finale, but for some reason its been sitting on the back burner as I wasn’t quite happy with it. But anyway, now it’s finally seeing the light of day and was heavily inspired by the poker game at the beginning of the episode, as you can probably tell by tge gif. I hope you enjoy some more Spencer feels.

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: Mature (smut)

Word Count: 2,913

“Pair of kings, pair of sevens. Oh I’m sorry, three sevens.”

Everyone groaned, throwing down their cards as they surrendered to the normality of Dr. Spencer Reid winning another hand of poker.

It was after hours at the BAU and a few of you decided to unwind in the briefing room by playing poker. So far, Spencer had won every round. But the night was early and you all were only a few hands in.

“I wanna know how Y/N was taught by you, yet still can’t beat you.” Luke shook his head.

“Sorry, but the brains also helps with the wins,” Spencer chuckled.

You mock scowled, before laughing yourself. Not long ago you’d asked Dr. Reid to teach you how to play poker since he was the best and you had zero knowledge of the game. That and it was a good excuse to spend time with him since you’d been harboring a crush on him.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I am determined to beat Spence,” JJ grinned.

“Oh, I'd love to see the lady try,” he smirked at her.

You felt a twinge of jealousy, probably irrationally so since it was obvious to you that he’d had a crush on JJ forever. You couldn’t blame him exactly; even if your best friend was married, she was still stunning.

“Let’s go then,” Luke said, dispersing new cards around the table.

•

“I’m all in,” Spencer said, pushing his candy towards the pile in the middle of the table.

You had to resist the urge to groan. Your hand of cards were absolute shit.

“I fold.” You put your cards down, thankful that you didn’t have anything to lose this hand.

“Same here,” Luke said, tossing his hand, “Hey Y/N maybe we should start the worst poker players club. You in?”

You laughed, pushing your hair back over your shoulder, “As long as I’m the president.”

“Deal.”

Across the table, you noticed Spencer’s eyes squint—like he did when he was analyzing something—as he watched the two of you. You weren’t exactly sure what that was about.

You watched as JJ pushed her pile of change and candy towards the pot.

“I’m all in.”

Spencer’s focus turned back to her as he made a tsking sound, while JJ flashed an innocent smile.

“Okay show us your cards,” Luke waved his hand, anxious to see who would win. You had to admit the suspense was killing you as well.

“Four of a kind!” Spencer beamed when his cards touched the table, showing his four 5’s.

Your and Luke’s head immediately swiveled the opposite direction as JJ set her cards down with a flourish. It was a straight flush.

Luke whooped and your jaw dropped. Spencer was speechless.

“No. Way.” You said, in awe, watching JJ pull all her earnings towards herself.

“It finally happened!” Luke grinned, high fiving you, “I owe you 20 bucks Y/N.”

“You guys bet on me losing?!”

“It had to happen sometime Spencer,” you said.

“Come on, it’s my turn to beat the doc,” Luke said, reaching for the cards to shuffle again.

“Okay one more hand and I gotta go. I promised Garcia I’d be home before it got too late. Hopefully the boys aren’t driving her crazy,” JJ said reaching for her new cards.

“Oh please, you know she loves them,” you grin.

You pick up your cards, pretending to sneak a peek at Luke’s cards.

“Hey, no peeping!” he laughed, trying to move them out of your sight, making you try to lean further over to see.

“I’m just trying to see if the Vice President of the Worst Poker Players club has a chance,” you smirked at him.

“You madam President are too nosy for your own good,” Luke grins.

“Can we just get on with the game?” Spencer retorted, his voice unnaturally harsh.

Your gaze shot to Spencer, shocked to hear the sharp tone in his voice. You very rarely ever saw him mad or even irritable for that matter.

“Uh, sure,” you said, going first, placing your bet.

A few minutes after everyone else placed their starting bets, Spencer challenges you, raising your bet, his glare fixed on you. You make yourself resist physically flinching. You have no idea why his mood had darkened so suddenly and only at you.

You glance at JJ to see if she’s noticed and she gives you a small shrug, just as baffled as you are. As your best friend, she of course knew about your feelings for him. She gives you a questioning look as if assessing if you’re okay. You give a quick nod and return to your cards, trying not to feel hurt. Tuning back into the game you notice Luke has folded, JJ soon follows. Before you know it, it’s just you against Spencer.

“Ah, teacher against student. The tension is real.” Luke drums his fingers against the table.

You set your hand down. It wasn’t the best, but you were hoping somehow Spencer would have a worse hand. No such luck. Once again, your jaw drops when you see his own straight flush spread out in front of him.

“Damnit,” you mumble.

“You’re never gonna beat me Y/N. I’d stop trying if I were you.”

This time you did flinch. Your brows furrow, irritated, both at him and the fact you can’t beat him.

“Hey, I did,” JJ pointed out as she stood to pull on her jacket, “I gotta run guys.”

“Yeah, me too,” Luke says, standing up and stretching, “Spence? Y/N?”

“No, I think I’m gonna stay a bit longer. I’m determined to beat him.”

“Good luck,” Luke said heading to the door.

See you guys Monday and hopefully not sooner!” He calls as he walks out of the room.

“Tell me how it turns out,” JJ says, giving you a look only another woman could decipher, clearing meaning she meant more than just the game.

After giving both of you hugs and saying goodbye once again, you and Spencer are settled back at the round table, ready for another game.

“Sure you’re up to this?” he smirked, looking you up and down.

“Yes.” Your tone is clipped, determined, “I was taught well you know.”

“It’s going to get boring winning hand after hand you know.”

“Fine. Then let’s make it interesting why don’t we?”

“I’m listening.” He sits back, clasping his hands behind his head, watching you.

“Strip poker. You know the rules. Losing hand removes an article of clothing.”

“You’re on.”

Half an hour later you’re sitting next to a pile of your belongings. Deciding to count accessories since you had on a lot less layers than he did, you had managed to already have removed your hair clip, watch, necklace and shoes. Spencer had only lost his watch. At least that was a small victory, your one win.

“One win out of five games. I’d say I’m impressed, but that’s a measly 5% of your wins in our total of games so far.”

Your eyes blazed and you glared at him.

“What’s your problem?”

He looked up at you, clearly taken aback. You stifle a snort, annoyed at the fact that he had the audacity to look surprised.

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not.” You look up from your cards to say something else, but he goes back to the game before you can ask any further questions.

“Damn,” he mutters, putting down his hand of random assorted cards.

Your face lights up and you slam down your three of a kind.

“Pay up. Something comes off.”

He shakes his head, pulling his tie off. Unfortunately for you, the next game isn’t in your favor and your shirt comes off, leaving you in just your bra and pants. You look up and deal to begin the next game, noticing his eyes suddenly are intensely focused on the tabletop.

You lay your head in your hand as you look at your cards before reaching from one for the deck, not noticing how the movement makes your breasts even more visible to him. What you do notice though is his slight shift in stance.

“So uh, you and Alvez huh?”

Now it was your turn to look startled.

“What about me and Luke?”

“I don’t- I just- I mean,” he cleared his throat trying to stop his stammering, “You guys just seem really friendly all of a sudden.”

“Yeah, we get along great. He’s a good friend.”

“Oh, I see.”

Suddenly it clicked.

“Why? Are you jealous?”

He doesn’t answer, just drops his hand on the table, the cards splayed out.

“Well, shit.”

“Another four of a kind.”

You sigh, standing up, unbuttoning your pants.

“This isn’t fair, you know,” you say, unzipping them.

You look over at him when you realize he hasn’t answered you and find his eyes on you, his tongue moving over his lips. Your stomach tightened, a sight you would never get over seeing. He did that single motion more times during a single case alone, than you could count.

You dropped your pants on the pile of your belongings, not exactly caring where it landed or the fact that you just happened to be half naked. It was like a magnetic force pulling you closer towards him. You drag your hand across the table as you approach him, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. His eyes don’t leave you as you approach him, the game long forgotten.

“You were jealous. Weren’t you?” Your voice is barely a whisper as if you’re afraid that if you spoke the words too loud they wouldn’t be true.

Smoother than you thought he could be, he’d reached out for you and pulled you into his lap.

“Yes.”

Next thing you knew his hands are in your hair and his lips are on yours and you’re kissing him back with such intensity that you had to pull away after a moment, just to get air back to your lungs and clarity to your mind.

“But I thought you-”

“Liked JJ?”

“I, uh-” you momentarily blank on what you were saying as his hand moves up your arm and pulls one bra strap down, slowly.

“Yeah,” you finish.

“I did.” His lips met your shoulder, kissing it, “Until the day you walked through those doors.”

You felt your jaw slacken a bit as his lips traveled up your neck, stopping every few moments to suck on one spot or another. The realization had dawned on you that that specific event was more than six years ago.

“Oh,” you breathed, both in response to his confession and his gentle suckling.

His hands reached behind you and unfastened your bra in one swift movement.

“Why Dr. Reid aren’t you suave?”

He groaned, low in his throat. Whether it was because of the sight of your bare breasts or you calling him doctor, you weren’t sure. Your arousal was obvious, your nipples already pinched.

You lifted your head to kiss him again, loving the way his scruff was slightly scratchy against your face and the feeling of his lips moving simultaneously with yours.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been kissing when you felt his hands glide up your thighs, fingers brushing against the side of your underwear. Just the feeling of him touching you through the thin fabric of your underwear was enough to make you shiver. Your lips were traveling along his jaw when you felt him lift you.

“What are you-”

He placed you on the table as easily as he could before pulling your last article of clothing off. His arms hooked under your thighs, lifting you up and pulling you to the edge of the table, sending the deck of cards flying.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, feeling his mouth on you. Never in a million years would you have imagined his mouth to be this impactful.

You couldn’t see his expression, but somehow you knew Spencer was smirking. His tongue moved agonizingly slow over your slit, just barely brushing your clit.

“Spencer for God’s sake,” you whined already feeling tension building throughout every inch of your body, his touch sending your entire being into overload.

Your head fell backwards when his tongue flicked your clit repeatedly before flattening his tongue against it. Your breathing was heavy as you managed to sit up on your elbows, looking down at him. The sight of Dr. Spencer Reid, the resident genius, with his head between your legs, doing magical things with his mouth was almost enough to send you spiralling out of control.

When you felt his touch completely disappear you opened your mouth to protest until you felt his fingers on you again. One finger slid in as he watched your expression, his eyes squinted again, his tongue moistening his lips.

“I swear to God if you don’t stop licking your lips I’m gonna cum right this second,” you practically growled at him.

His only response was a chuckle before he added a second finger to the mix and his mouth was back on you again. His tongue moved against you before finally sucking on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Oh fuck, oh yes. Speeeence,” you moaned, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You couldn’t tell if it was just your thighs or your entire body that was shaking, but you were pretty sure it was both at this rate. You gripped the edge of the table hard, the mound of tension in the pit of your stomach unraveling faster and faster.

“Please don’t stop,” you begged breathlessly, desperate for the sweet release that was so close you could almost reach.

Like a balloon bursting after being filled with too much air, your body feels the same as your orgasm coursed through it, rendering you breathless mid-moan.

You’re pretty sure you hadn’t cursed as much as you did in the seconds following.

“Holy shit Spencer,” you groaned, trying to gain some control in your body again.

He pulled you toward the edge of the table, helping you down so you were leaning against it. Your legs were shaking too much to be able to stand on your own anyway. His hand cupped your face as he kissed you again, this time a lot softer than the previous kisses you’d shared. It was then when you had an idea.

“Sit back.” You took his hand off your face, lightly pushing his shoulders for him to sit back in the chair.

“Why?”

“Just do it.” You kissed the base of his throat, fingers fumbling over the buttons of his shirt.

With each button released, your lips moved lower over his skin.

Finally getting the gist of your movements, his hand caught your wrist when your fingers reached the waist of his pants.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. But I’m a lady and I always return a good deed,” you grinned slyly.

He bit his lip as if trying to assess your face just to be sure.

“I want to.”

He released his grip and you continued your task, wasting no time until he was in his boxers. Your lips moved in line above his waistband your palm pressing against the noticeable bulge.

A grunt came above you encouraging you. You pulled the fabric enough out of the way, your hand wrapping around his cock. He inhaled sharply, watching you intently. Your hand moved slowly back and forth making him suffer just as much as he did to you.

“Y/N I think I’m wound up enough. Cut out the fucking teasing,” came through gritted teeth.

“My apologies, Doctor.”

You flashed a quick smirk up at him then leaned down, tongue swirling around his head. His hips jerked slightly when you took him in your mouth, your tongue swirling before settling on sucking.

“Fuck!” Spencer groaned loudly.

You peeked upwards to see his head fall back and his eyes close. You couldn’t help but feel the satisfaction at knowing you’re the one causing him to react like this.

You feel his hand in your hair, his grip tightening the longer you’re on your knees.

“After listening to you Y/N, I’m not gonna last long,” he groans as you hum your response.

Using one hand to pump him, you suck on his head long enough for him to give you the warning of his impending release. Seconds later it hit him, hot liquid filling your mouth. You sat back swallowing like a champ and wiping your mouth. You looked up at the wrecked Dr. Reid, panting above you. It was a good look on him.

“Did you let me win?”

“What?”

“Earlier. During the game; that last hand I won. Did you let me win?” You asked as you grabbed your own clothes, both of you trying to look presentable again.

“Y/N, you can win all the poker games you want as long as we can do that again.”

“You got a deal.”

“There’s only one problem now,” he groaned.

“You mean besides the deck of cards scattered on the floor?”

“Yes. Cause now when we have a new case I’m going to have to resist the urge to imagine bending you over this table.”

You swallowed hard, the image in your mind doing things to you as well. You looked him in the eye before responding, earnestly.

“Guess that’s gonna have to wait until the next poker game.”

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid gifs #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid gifs #dr spencer reid smut #Criminal Minds #criminal minds gifs #criminal minds fic #criminal minds smut

1K notes · View notes

snickiebear · 3 years

Note

Hi bby! 1, 2, 3, 6, 16, 27, 29, 33, 35! 🖤

mittens!!! loml!!

1. From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!)

oh goodness... um, i’d say a 4?? yeah, that sounds about right, only because i often make so many tense mistakes and even when i edit there’s always something to fix. and just,,, im still learning a lot (aren’t we all). plus, sometimes the stuff i put out needs so much more work (see: my recent shisaku fic... i want to tear it up and put it back together.. ugh.. also wt&r, just everything)

2. Why do you write fanfiction?

OH GOODIE! i just... well, i wrote a lot when i was twelve-fourteenish, then kind of on and off through the years. never really had anything to ground me and get me to take writing seriously. and then i found naruto and sakura who has so much unused potential and it just made me so angry to see her treated that way.

point being, the naruto fandom (more specifically the sakura fandom) rooted me down and allowed me be able to grow as a writer even though i’ve only been posting since january my writing style has changed so much, and i can physically feel myself becoming a better writer.

plus, i just love it. the thrill of being able to use these characters and pairings and do what i want with them?? i drink it up, i love it!!! its so freeing and such a great way to really dig deep within writing itself.

3. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

i think its just the way i word things, you and a lot of others call it poetry but meh i just call it fancy words or word vomit from my brain AHAHHAHA

also, my thing is God Killers, God Eaters, and Angry Wrathful Women at this point, so maybe thats another thing?

but honestly,,, i have no clue... you’d have to ask my lovely readers, im so thankful for them 😭

6. What element of writing do you find comes easily?

plot probably. this changes often though. usually when i have an idea, the rest comes to mind and i jot it down and come back and change things and stuff, so thats usually pretty easy tbh... at least for now LMAO

and inner dialogue, inner struggles, showing the entire internal thing. its fun writing that angsty part of a story, the small insights into a character’s mind, how miserable and alone they feel. or, perhaps how happy they are, overjoyed and at peace.

OH AND WORLD BUILDING. i pride myself so much on my world building. i honestly think thats one of the better things im good at! just weaving small details into the text, and subtly building a world within your mind, oh i love it so much!!!!

16. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)?

mmmm nothing really comes to mind? men simping for women who could kick their ass? tho idk if thats really a guilty pleasure....am very fond of same age aus, sometimes mafia aus too... ummm,, yeah

(probably big dick tenzo tbh... and the fact that kakashi’s face is a legal weapon AHAHAHA,,, and broken, vunreble men. also, shattered, all consuming women.)

27. What’s the nicest comment you’ve ever received?

oh god... i cannot chose! you, ele, al, and hika leave the kindest comments, and literally any comment on the things i write just make me so so so so so HAPPY. i just them more than kudos tbh.

but! one comment on the intimacy of being understood i always come back to. it was left by GuardianMars and they wrote that the fic was like a “love letter to the pairing.” and that well. i think about that comment all the time.

there have been so many others comments that have utterly touched my heart and that i will go to read on terrible, horrible days and i value ALL comments. especially those who say “i’m rereading this again” or “i’ll read anything you put out” that just. there is something so intimate about that, that utter faith and loyalty that i do not know what to do with.

its so touching and makes me truly believe in the good of the world.

29. Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out?

yes! i am attempting to get better at writing smut because ol&w is going to have some fucking in it so i experimented in that shisaku fic and just..... yeah idk man. idk... its something i do want to get better at cause, meh why not? and i want to write some good porn for my readers damnit! HAHAHA

33. Is there anything you wish your audience knew about your writing or writing process?

hmmm,,, probably that i stress so much and yet so little at the same time? allow me to elaborate! i stress so much about whether my writing is actually good or if people are just being nice LMAO and also posting, i get cold sweats and a thumping heart and yiKES

but also, i enjoy writing so its like “fuck you (jk ily guys) imma write what i wanna!”...do you see my issue? HAHAHA

also, im a planner. most of the time, and a lot of the details in my more serious fics (ol&w) are blink and miss details but they’re important and i LOVE foreshadowing!!!! like yes, i will vaguely mention something and itll simply come back with a vengeance!

35. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

aaaaaa okokok thank you for this ask LMAO i just love talking about writing and rambling (as i often do,, im a long winded person, im very sorry)!

but anyways! my summer semester just started up and i’m taking three purely online classes and the college im attending (im a dual enrollment student; meaning a high school and college kid,, taking advantage of the system!) fucked up my schedule so! im taking two TWELVE WEEK CLASSES that will end in AUGUST???? and then my fall sem starts five days later so... no summer break for nadia! yay...

writing will be very slow and updates will be too, which i am so sad and frustrated about because i’ve finally hit a paved road and now we’re driving into the forest! all bumps and bruises damnit! BUT worry not! i (as i said above, am i severe planner. every day has a plan, i am also an avid lover of lists also. i have lists for EVERYTHING) am working out a schedule so that i can get all my school shit done as soon as i can (while not failing) and write while hopefully not burning myself out.

ol&w is such an intricate fic and im truly trying to give it the justice it deserves,,, im just hoping that my dear readers can bear with me HAHAHAHA there is honestly so much going on in that fic; shikamaru’s development, the underlying plot, the hate to love build up, the world building, and then laying down the foundations for the next fic (because yes, this is supposed to be a trilogy.. question is; will i be able to write it?) (answer: maybe. hopefully. i desperately want to but it might take some time.)

BUT ASLO i have so many oneshots i want to write! kisame week! kakashi week! kibasaku long fic! and not to mention my og work that i plan on rewriting and putting up on ao3 because a few people showed some interest. there is just so much to do and write and i am itching to do it all! but. well, but school, and the exhaustion of insomnia, and the weight of stress, sigh.

shit sucks, it is what it is. but writing is like my safe haven and i just love pouring all myself into my fics and then baring my soul to you all and you take a peek and decide to keep looking. that is my favorite part of this little pocket of tumblr.

this was not really... fic related? more like a dump of issues! so sorry about that AHAHAHAH

anyways! thank you so much mittens! :)))))))))

pick my brain!

#silly things from silly friends

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riotwritesthings · 4 years

Text

When is a bed not a bed? (When you’re not in it)

WinterIron, T, 2.7k, crack, bedsharing, pining | AO3

Dear @hddnone, I hear you like bed sharing fic. I also like bed sharing fic, and I ADORE your work and also you. So here’s this. I wrote it in a night I never do that who even am i. As always, thanks to Stella for title assistance.

“I take it back,” Tony calls out the open doorway, “this safe house is not well stocked, they forgot one very important thing.”

Bucky appears in the doorway a second later, looks around the small bedroom, and then fixes Tony with an unimpressed look.

“There’s only one bed,” Tony says slowly, in case Bucky somehow missed it, but Bucky just shrugs. And of course it’s not a problem for him, he’s not the one uselessly pining away like a character in an old timey romance novel.

“So you take it,” Bucky says, “I hardly sleep anyways.” Then he turns to leave, like that’s just the end of the conversation.

“That is not the end of this conversation!” Tony says, following him back out into the equally tiny living room.

Turns out, that is the end of the conversation. For about three days.

For three nights, Tony tosses and turns on the lumpy single mattress, feeling ridiculously guilty even though it had been Bucky’s idea to sleep on the tiny moldy couch. He also has to keep listing out all the reasons in his head that he shouldn’t invite Bucky to come share the bed with him, laws of physics be damned.

Like the fact that it took long enough for Bucky to be comfortable around them all anyways, especially around Tony, and the last thing Tony wants to do is screw that up. Especially because he would almost, tentatively, say that he and Bucky are friends now, and it’s not like Bucky wants more than that, why would he? It’s Tony.

Tony doesn’t sleep very well, is the point.

On the fourth night, Tony puts his foot down. “Your turn with the bed,”’ he says after their nightly meal of tasteless canned meat, “little piece of advice, it does slope to the right, so be careful not to roll off.”

“No,” Bucky says eloquently.

“Yes,” Tony shoots back, then twists sideways on the couch and starts kicking Bucky in the hip as he says “go on, get out of my new bed, some of us need our beauty sleep.”

Bucky moves not at all except to grab one of Tony’s ankles. “I told you, I don’t need-“

“This is purely selfish,” Tony interrupts him with a bright grin, “that bed is terrible, okay, every inch of me hurts and I’m hoping this couch is better. Have fun with the torture bed.”

Bucky gives him a suspicious look, but slowly rises from the couch and heads for the bedroom. He doesn’t shut the door behind him, and Tony listens with satisfaction as the old bed frame creaks under Bucky’s weight.

The couch smells terrible. Tony is kind of tempted to hold his breath until he passes out, because for a while that seems like the only way he’s getting to sleep. But he feels way less guilty, and it's way less tempting to go crawl into the bed with Bucky. That would just be rude.

Eventually, Tony manages to get past the smell and the lumps and the way the one tiny window rattles in the lightest of breezes, and actually falls asleep. He wakes up in the bed, blankets neatly tucked in around him.

“Are you kidding me, you stubborn bastard?!” Tony demands as he storms into the living room.

“What happened?” Bucky asks, smiling innocently at him over a can of peaches.

“This isn’t over,” Tony tells him, very seriously, and then, “I was saving those peaches!”

On the fifth night, Tony comes out of the bathroom to find Bucky pretending to already be asleep on the couch.

“Bucky,” Tony says, standing over him, hands on his hips, and then continues saying it until Bucky finally squints an eye open at him. “Bucky,” Tony says, as reasonably as he can, “go get in the fucking bed.”

“I slept in the bed last night,” Bucky says and oh, Tony can absolutely see the smirk trying to break free from behind Bucky’s flat expression.

“You most certainly did not,” Tony says and he can’t help a small huff of laughter, because he has to respect the dedication.

“Agree to disagree,” Bucky says, shrugging one shoulder, and then closes his eyes again.

“I do not agree to that,” Tony says, “and I will stand here all night to make a point, don’t think I won’t.”

Bucky peeks his eyes open again, and Tony raises one eyebrow at him.

Falling asleep on the couch is at least easier the second time, but halfway through the night Tony wakes up in bed again.

“Damnit Bucky!” He shouts, struggling and failing to break free of the blankets tucked tightly around him.

“I’m sleeping!” Bucky shouts back, and Tony is pretty sure he can hear a smothered laugh. It’s unfair, really, that the sound of it has Tony’s heart beating just a little faster.

“The hell you are,” Tony grumbles, and falls back asleep before he can work up the energy to free himself and go kick Bucky off the couch again.

On the seventh morning, Tony wakes up to Bucky looming above him.

“What th’ fuck, Tony,” he demands, sounding something almost like plaintive.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Tony says brightly, feeling incredibly smug despite the way his entire body aches from sleeping on the ground.

”Mornin’, angel,” Bucky says flatly, “why aren’t you in th’ damn bed?”

“You can keep putting me in the bed, but you can’t make me sleep in it,” Tony says sagely, steepling his fingers beneath his chin.

“I can tie you t’ the bed,” Bucky growls, and Tony is incredibly thankful he managed to pull the blankets down with him because hello.

Tony can’t help the way he immediately responds by smirking wide and wiggling his eyebrows, he really can’t. It’s just instinct.

Bucky rolls his eyes and stomps out of the room.

“I’m counting this as a win,” Tony calls after him.

“I’m eatin’ your powdered eggs,” Bucky calls back. Like that’s any kind of a threat.

So it continues like that, they have nothing to do during the day except hurry up and wait, and there’s only so many times Bucky can clean his guns and sharpen his knives, only so many times Tony can tear apart the toaster and put it back together. At least fighting over the bed gives them something to do.

Tony would even dare to say that Bucky is enjoying the game, too. Especially on the eighth night, when Tony wakes up just as he’s being gently lowered to the mattress, decides to aggressively throw himself out of the bed, and nearly brains himself on the nightstand. Bucky laughs so hard he nearly collapses and Tony seizes the moment of opportunity, almost crawls all the way out of the room before Bucky grabs him by the foot and drags him back.

On the ninth night, when Tony tries to roll out of bed, he gets tangled in the sheets and ends up pinned awkwardly to the side of the mattress and has to yell for Bucky to come free him. Bucky stumbles in looking sleepy and smug, so gorgeous that Tony almost does something incredibly stupid. Like tell him that.

No matter where Tony falls asleep, on the couch, on the scratchy rug in front of the empty fireplace, on the kitchen table just to make a point, he always wakes up in bed. He doesn’t even stir when Bucky moves him, most of the time, and that’s as endearing as it is terrifying.

After the tenth night stuck in the tiny safe house, things start to get weird.

“Bucky,” Tony calls pitifully, and waits a full minute before continuing with “frosty, sweetheart, light of my life, oh kind and generous angel, would you please get in here already.”

Bucky finally appears in the doorway and Tony knows he took so long on purpose, this house isn’t that big. “What’s up, sugar?” Bucky asks and he’s trying to hide his smirk behind his coffee mug but Tony can absolutely see it in his eyes.

“Not much, just one little thing really,” Tony says pleasantly, and then flails his entire body as hard as he can. It accomplishes not a goddamn thing, because the blankets on the bed are all tucked in so tightly that Tony might as well be in a straight jacket.

Bucky chokes on his mouthful of coffee, clearly trying not to laugh, and good, Tony hopes it went up his nose. Bucky doesn’t actually move to help him though, just stays leaning against the doorframe and grinning.

“Bucky,” Tony says again, putting on his best puppy dog eyes.

“Darlin’,” Bucky says back, smiling sweetly. When Tony continues to stare him down, he takes a slow, obnoxious sip of his coffee before asking “what’s up?”

Tony attempts to flail again, then demands “would you just get over here, what the fuck, did you staple these sheets in place?!”

“Had to make sure you didn’t go anywhere,” Bucky says, completely unapologetic, but finally moves to free him.

“You’re a bad, bad man,” Tony tells him, already plotting how he’s going to steal the mug of coffee Bucky left on the nightstand.

“Whatever you say, doll.”

Tony wakes up slung over Bucky’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Disappointing,” Tony tells the small of Bucky’s back, “I always imagined you carried me like a delicate princess.”

“Not when it’s the third time tonight,” Bucky grumbles, voice low and sleep rough in a way that does things to Tony, “would you just stay in th’ fuckin’ bed.”

“You sleep in the bed,” Tony replies, “and leave me in peace.”

“You can’t sleep in th’ bathtub,” Bucky says heartlessly and drops him onto the bed, surprisingly gentle.

“I argue that I was sleeping in the bathtub just fine,” Tony points out.

Bucky yanks the pillow out from under his head and shoves it in his face.

“Are you serious right now?” Bucky asks, leaning heavily against the doorframe, his hair in his face and his eyes still mostly closed.

Tony freezes in the act of building a Tony-shaped lump of pillows under the blankets. “No?” He tries.

Bucky glares at him until Tony shamefully un-builds the Tony-shaped lump and crawls back under the blankets himself.

On the fourteenth night, Tony has a new plan. It’s not a good plan, but it is new, and considering how stir crazy he is that’s about the best Tony can do.

He’s pretty sure Bucky is already awake when he stumbles into the living room, so Tony just heads straight for the couch and throws himself down on top of Bucky. It’s super awkward, because Bucky is curled up on his side to fit on the tiny couch, and Tony definitely ends up with a metal elbow somewhere around his spleen.

“What th’ fuck, doll,” Bucky slurs out, and maybe he hadn’t been quite as awake as Tony had thought.

“I want the couch,” Tony says, “I don’t care where you sleep. Although I should point out that the bed is empty, so you might as well use it.”

“What the fuck,” Bucky says again. He tries to shift, probably because Tony’s knees have to be digging into his legs, and it would probably send Tony tumbling to the ground if not for Bucky’s other arm snapping up to wrap around him.

“Give in and surrender the couch,” Tony says, like Bucky isn’t the only thing keeping him from face planting into the ground.

“Why are you like this?” Bucky asks with a heavy sigh, and in one smooth move manages to push himself to his feet while simultaneously slinging Tony up into a bridal carry. He smirks when Tony makes a couple nonsense noises and asks “happy now, princess?’

“Thrilled,” Tony says with as much sarcasm as he can manage, but it still comes out entirely too honest as Bucky starts carrying him back towards the bedroom.

“Why won’t you jus’ stay in th’ damn bed,” Bucky asks and oh, apparently he actually wants an answer to that.

Tony ran out of reasonable excuses about two days ago, so he blurts out “I feel guilty hogging it.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but there’s a warm smile hovering around the corners of his mouth as he says “told you I don’t want it.”

“Oh, well if you told me,” Tony says with an eye-roll of his own, because really, it’s like Bucky doesn’t know him at all. Bucky does huff out a soft laugh, so maybe he does, but still, Tony has a point to prove. As soon as Bucky sets him down oh-so-gently on the bed, Tony leaps into action and tries to throw himself over Bucky’s shoulder towards the door.

“Damnit Tony,” Bucky snaps, but he’s shaking with suppressed laughter as he catches Tony around the waist and tries to toss him back down onto the bed. “Shit,” he swears again as Tony gets his arms around Bucky’s shoulders and clings for all he’s worth, “sweet thing, would you just- fuck, Tony-“

At some point in the ensuing scuffle, in which Bucky tries very hard to set him down and Tony tries very hard to not let that happen, Tony’s heel collides with the back of Bucky’s knee. It knocks Bucky just enough off balance that they both go tumbling down onto the bed and the frame groans dangerously.

It also knocks all the air out of Tony’s lungs when Bucky lands heavily on top of him, and after a second Tony manages to wheeze out “tell my bots... they failed me.”

“Tha’s fucked up,” Bucky says with another soft laugh. Then he wiggles one arm under Tony, says “hold on,” and proceeds to somehow roll them both over without rolling straight off the bed. “I hope you’re proud of yourself,” Bucky says, dropping his head back and even managing to land on the pillow, “you’re makin’ this so difficult.”

“I am proud of myself,” Tony says, face smashed against Bucky’s chest and eyes already falling closed, “‘cause that’s what I do.” Honestly, Bucky is about as lumpy as the mattress, in terms of laying-on, but in much better ways. And he’s so warm, and his arm still draped around Tony’s waist feels so nice, there’s not a damn thing Tony can do to stop himself from drifting off.

“Are... are you falling asleep on me?” Bucky asks, and there’s something in his voice that Tony can’t quite place. Maybe he can figure it out later, when he’s awake.

“No,” Tony says, and then passes the fuck out.

On the fifteenth night, Tony falls asleep on the couch and wakes up sprawled out on top of Bucky on the tiny bed, both of Bucky’s arms wrapped tight around his back.

“‘S this your dastardly plan to keep me in bed?” Tony asks, not bothering to lift his face from where it’s tucked so nicely into the curve of Bucky’s throat.

“Worked last night,” Bucky says, voice more of a low rumble than anything, and tightens his hold just a little.

“You fiend,” Tony says, and falls back asleep.

On the sixteenth morning, Tony wakes up still sprawled out on top of Bucky, drooling on him a little, Bucky’s fingers running through his hair. They don’t fight over the couch, after that.

It’s another three goddamn days before someone finally comes to pick them up, and they share the very last can of peaches to celebrate.

“Am I gonna have to worry ‘bout finding you sleepin’ on the kitchen table still?” Bucky asks with a small grin that still manages to light up his whole face.

Tony takes his table to think about his answer, sucks the last of the sugary, corn-syrupy fruit juice off his fork. Takes stock of the way Bucky watches him do it. Considers. Runs the odds. Decides to take his chances.

“I think you’ve learned there’s really only one way to be sure,” Tony says, raising one eyebrow and even letting a nervous little smile show on his face.

Bucky’s grin widens slowly, and then it’s a full on smile, nearly splitting his face and Tony can’t take it anymore. When Tony kisses him Bucky tastes sugary sweet and he still won’t stop smiling, even as he pulls Tony in closer.

Tony really doesn’t mind.

#THIS IS HOW I SHOW AFFECTION #my fic #winteriron #buckytony #starkbucks

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saadiestuff · 4 years

Note

For the first sentence meme... "It was still dark outside when he opened his eyes"

This is from the “give me 1 sentence and I’ll write 5 more” tumblr game from 6 (?) weeks ago that I've been sitting on for ages because I'm so rusty at writing the fic just didn't feel right. But today I heard it was @lire-casander‘s birthday so I took another look and decided to post it! Happy birthday! 🎂

Summary: Malex in a nebulous not so far away future, finding their way back. Warning: Mentions of injuries from a tussle (not Malex).

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

It is still dark outside when he opens his eyes.

It takes Michael a second to register what has woken him. Somehow he knows there has been a knock on the door of his airstream, though one too light to wake him -- at least not absent the pull of something else.

By the time a louder knock follows, Michael is already out of bed.

“Alex?” Michael says, alarmed when he opens the door -- not surprised that it’s Alex, but by the state he is in when the light from the airstream washes over him. “What the hell happened? Are you okay?”

Alex looks roughed up, with an eye that will clearly bruise, a cut on his cheek, and a split lip.

Alex sighs. “I got into a tussle.”

Anger flares in Michael. “Fuck, I’m gonna--”

“No, you’re not,” Alex says calmly, putting a hand up to halt him.

“Damnit Alex, we decided not to go to him. It was too risky,” Michael says, sounding very concerned, trying not to scold.

“You’re not the boss of me, and the risk you were calculating didn’t involve a fist fight anyways. Besides, turns out it was worth it. I got the info we need.”

“Alex--”

“It’s just my face.”

“Just-- Did he sucker punch you??”

Alex raises an eyebrow. “Please, you know it’s not that easy to get the jump on me.”

“But--”

“I’ll tell you about it after you fix me up, yeah?” Alex says hopefully, his expression softening.

“Yeah, of course, yeah,” Michael agrees, rubbing the back of his neck, starting to exit the airstream.

“What are you doing?” Alex asks, not moving out of Michael’s path.

“We’ll go see Max. He’s gotten really good at healing,” Michael explains proudly. “Or did you want me to take you to Kyle?”

Alex’s eyes flick away and then back. “Actually, I heard that next on your power-expansion list was healing. Thought this was a good chance for you to practice.”

Michael looks surprised, “I--I can’t make you my guinea pig. Max has been explaining it to me but that’s all.”

“I’m already hurt. What’s the worst that could happen?” Alex tries.

“I don’t know, I could accidentally do the reverse and kill you?” Michael says heavily. “We should go to Max.”

“Nah, I trust you,” Alex assures him.

“That’s not the point,” Michael says softly.

“Look, I feel like crap, and I want you to fix me up, whether that’s with your magic hands or your bandaids and gauze. I just--” Alex pauses and breathes, looking down and shuffling his feet awkwardly. “Ah, I’m sorry. I show up on your doorstep demanding your help--”

“Don’t worry about it. I owe you a few,” Michael smirks warmly, waving Alex inside.

Alex’s face falls.

“Just an expression,” Michael clarifies, but Alex doesn’t look convinced. “There are no agendas between us. I know that,” Michael continues quietly but firmly. “Just-- inside, please?”

Alex takes a deep breath and enters; warmth, and the smell of rain, immediately surround him.

“Come here?” Michael invites, and Alex is quickly folding into Michael’s gentle embrace.

Alex lets out a relieved sigh, feeling settled in the safe and quiet. Michael isn’t.

“You’re shaking,” Alex observes.

“Someone hurt you.”

“And you’re going to make it better,” Alex says, pulling back from the hug to look at Michael.

“Sit,” Michael says, letting Alex go.

Alex sits himself on the bed, and Michael joins him.

“You do realize this is going to leave big shimmery streaks on your face?” Michael reminds him, and the air seems lighter.

“I know,” Alex shrugs, “But I’m going to be in the bunker working on our new lead for a few days, only seeing the alien in-crowd anyways.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. And a little shimmer is fun, right?” Alex teases shyly.

Michael grins and nods, but then takes a shaky breath. “Before we do this, I need to say something.” He stops and squeezes Alex’s hand in his when he senses him tense. “A good thing, if you-- well-- something I’ve been trying to work up the courage to say.”

“Okay,” Alex says, not bracing himself, trusting Michael.

Michael rushes the words out. “I know we’ve convinced ourselves that we aren’t meant to be, and that it’s fine. But I’m an idiot. And I think you might be an idiot too. So--”

“Excuse me?” Alex asks, face an unreadable mix, but Michael thinks he sees hope there.

“Shit-- I didn’t mean-- I just mean it’s not fine. I can’t lie to myself -- or you -- anymore. It takes too much energy. It hurts too much.”

“Ah… there was a time not long ago when the lie was easier,” Alex says knowingly, for the same applies to him.

“I’ve changed.”

“Me too.”

“And things have changed.”

“Some haven’t,” Alex says, a sly, cautious smile threatening to form.

“Since we were seventeen, huh?” Michael teases boldly.

In answer, Alex leans in and kisses him, soft but eager. It’s been many months since their lips have touched. Michael kisses back and the world stops spinning--

“Ow!” Alex yelps softly.

“Sorry!” Michael says, pulling back.

“It’s okay,” Alex says gently, touching his lip, “Just forgot for a minute about everything… except you.”

There’s a strange familiarity to the line -- Michael has to catch his breath before he speaks. “Any-- Anyways, I just wanted to say all of that before you got influenced by my handprint. If it works, that is.”

Michael raises his hand to Alex’s face, cupping his jaw.

“Wait,” Alex says, while at the same time placing his hand over Michael’s, signaling a pause rather than a change of heart.

“Yeah?”

“Can I stay here tonight?” Alex asks cautiously, “Just to sleep.”

Michael grins and nods. "Yeah, 'course."

“Okay, beam me up.”

Michael huffs a laugh, then turns very serious. Alex closes his eyes and winces when Michael's thumb touches below his eye, sweeping across, trying to summon the healing power into his thumb.

“Max says I have to think about love.”

Alex smiles at that, and immediately Michael’s hand warms into a glow to match.

Alex gasps softly.

Michael breathes a whoa.

“It’s working,” Alex whispers reverently.

Michael just gulps in awe as he paints over Alex’s cheek, then brushes lightly over his lip, until there are no more cuts and bruises visible, and Michael’s hand comes to rest on Alex’s neck, cradling his jaw.

Alex makes a move closer, and Michael raises a finger against his lips.

“Do you feel weird? The handprint, I mean.”

“I feel just right,” Alex purrs.

“Mhmm,” Michael murmurs, “Me too.”

#malex #malex fic #my malex fic #rnm #lire-casander #yeah idk who alex gets in a tussle with #i was originally planning it to be a brother but new evidence suggests they aren't all bad!#idk wtf is up with the keep reading formatting fail #sorry about that

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whetstonefires · 4 years

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Your post about romance was so spot on and this is from someone who really likes reading romances some of the time. I just wish there were more books where friendships (which after all make up the majority of people's relationships!!) were given the same weight and importance as romance gets unthinkingly. Like, I want books or fic which show the development of two (or more) new friends *as the plot and main part of the book*, and the same thing for the progression of pre-established friendship.

Human relationships are varied and complex and interesting and limiting writing to mainly concerning romantic or dating ones is infuriating! I enjoy reading character driven stuff, which is why I like some romances but I really want to see similarly detailed deep studies of friendship. Friendships are so important, and romantic relationships do not supersede them. Obviously there is gendered bias against romance as a genre but that is not the only reason to be uninterested in romance damnit!

Sorry for ranting in your inbox about romance and thanks for the post

Hah thank and welcome. Very true!

Yeah, the problem is not just how ubiquitous romance is but the inevitability of it. So many people are so much in the habit of hanging their emotional investment on ‘couples getting together’ that not putting one in is a risk, as a creator, and the faint suggestion of a possibility that a romance might eventuate between two characters constitutes a promise that the audience will be outraged to see not followed through.

So making a story focus at all on a relationship between two people who are considered valid potential romantic partners means having to go through incredible backflips and contortions as a writer to get away with not pairing them up, or there will be outrage. There will be outrage anyway, but hopefully on a contained scale that doesn’t have people throwing your book away.

(The easiest way, of course, is to give one or both of them an alternate partner, but then you either have to build up that relationship as the central focus instead, because you aren’t allowed to love anyone that much and not be romantically involved or be romantically involved For Real with anyone but whoever you love most, or accept that you’ve plastered on a beard of some kind in a way that at this point makes your main duo look even more romantic to people who are looking for that in the first place, even if it lets you write a plot that doesn’t acknowledge this.)

This has contributed enormously to the cultural truism ‘men and women can’t be friends.’ They aren’t allowed to be. And this weird intense romantic pressure is now increasingly extending to same-sex friendships, and it’s like...it’s good that gay visibility and acceptance are growing! That’s great!

But it means that all relationships are increasingly exposed to this honestly fucked up set of expectations. That every single love of any intensity is romantic and probably sexual. That that’s the only love that’s real, or that really matters. With occasional exemptions carved out for parents.

And that’s cultural, I want to say. The inclusion of and an interest in the romantic lives of characters in fiction is definitely natural and practically inevitable, but the outsize role it occupies in our current media culture is abnormal and totally non-compulsory. The central role of romance in so much of narrative is just...a pattern, a narrative schema that currently holds sway, born of an assortment of historical accidents and trends, and I don’t think it’s a good one.

I think it would be better for us as a culture and all our individual relationships for that particular social construct to be broken down.

Because this cultural obsession with The Romance in media mirrors and continually recreates the obsession with The Romance in real life. You know how many people are making themselves miserable by either being in a relationship predicated on the need to have one, any one, rather than actual mutual affection, or about not having a love interest currently at any given moment?

Like, quite separately from the actual frustrated romantic feelings themselves, people feeling like they are less or failures or just...unfinished somehow, because they don’t have a romantic partner. It’s so harmful and absurd! We all know this!

And there are of course a lot of sociological factors that have led to that point as well, but it’s linked particularly closely I think to the atomization of modern society.

You’re not likely to retain any particular community for long--we move around so much over the course of our lives, anything you have is designed to be taken apart. School friends are only rarely retained after school, work friends are only until you get a new job, family is quite often something to be avoided or something you have to leave behind, and not usually an extended network anymore anyway.

We are always moving into new contexts, or knowing we might be moved, and holding onto relationships from one context into another is generally regarded as an unusual feat betokening particular, though not lionized, devotion, and leaning on these relationships ‘too much’ or pursuing them with ‘too much’ energy is regarded with deep suspicion.

This, too, is not particularly normal in the human experience. We are not psychologically designed for this level of impermanence. And we have developed very few structures as a culture thus far to make up for it, which is why the modern adult is so famously, dangerously lonely.

But we have all these social protocols for acquiring a person and holding onto them. A person who’s just yours, all yours, who it is promised will fulfill all those gaping needs all by themselves, and if they don’t it’s because you or they are wrong, and need either a different partner or fixing.

The fact that this is insane and not how romance works over 90% of the time is irrelevant to the dream of it, and the dream overwhelms and controls the reality. I agree that codependency is really fucking romantic, and having a kind and supportive mutual one is a lovely fantasy! It’s just...

A lot of harm eventuates from pursuing this fantasy in reality with a media-based conviction that it is 1) a reasonable thing to expect and 2) a necessary precondition for wellbeing and worthiness.

But we have poured so much cultural freight and need into this one single relationship format. At this point having need in any other direction is regarded as disordered and suspect and probably a misdirected application of sexual desire.

The law, too, has put a lot of energy into supporting the focus on seeking the romance as life goal, because the nuclear family is built on the codependent marriage, and capitalism likes the nuclear family very much. The nuclear family is extremely vulnerable to market pressures and bad at collective action, and tends to produce new tiny humans whose main social outlet has been within the school system, which is specifically structured to condition you to accept abusive workplace conditions as a normal precondition of existence, and not to attempt too much intimacy.

Ahem. Spiraled there. But! It’s all connected! Many of the privileges piled onto the institution of marriage were put there specifically because the nuclear family was considered desirable for the expansion of the economy. That’s clearly documented historical fact.

So yeah, the modern cultural obsession with the romance is a symptom of collective emotional disorder, and it chugs along at the expense of the more complex emotional support infrastructures most of us need and deserve.

It’s not just about me wanting representation, wanting an image in the narratives of my culture where I can see myself with the potential for happiness. Everyone needs this. We learn so much about how to be, how to relate to others, from media at this point, since the school system and other weird age-hierarchy stuff keeps us largely segregated from human society for a majority of our growing years and limits our exposure to live examples.

So the paucity of in-depth explorations of friendship, of mutual support, of widespread narrative acceptance that you can have a good life without a romance as its central support pillar, is harmful to people in general.

It’s funny, I get frustrated about this periodically, when a piece of media lets me down, or even when I’m following along a funny piece of meta and then the punchline is ‘and the ace character is obviously in denial about how they’re already dating their favorite person’ or whatever.

(The meta is annoying on a surface level and distressing on a deeper level because it’s a threat; so many times a good platonic relationship will buckle under public pressure and it doesn’t matter how asexual, how uninterested in romance, how emphatically platonic the affection has been established as being, The Romance arrives in the next installment of the story because it’s what people expect. Which reinforces the general perception that any other love is illegitimate, lesser, and as soon as it’s meant to be taken seriously it has to be crammed into that one valid shape, and invalidates future insistences in the same mode.

Seriously people stop doing this, we long since reached the point where a character saying in words ‘I have no romantic interest in [person]’ is perceived as a glaring neon sign that they’re destined to get together and that does not do good things for fostering a culture of consent. Obviously people are in denial sometimes but it should not be understood to be the rule.)

But I don’t get upset about it until someone starts in with reasons I’m bad and wrong for not liking these norms.

Like, whatever, media does not cater to my needs, I’ll cope, but when people start trying to get in my head and make me not only responsible for my own discomfort that I’m managing thanks but dishonest and malevolent I...get upset. There’s history there, okay.

‘You don’t care about this ship because you’re homophobic’ ‘you don’t want a love interest in the sequel because you’re racist’ ‘you don’t like romance in stories because you’re a misogynist’ fucking stop.

And occasionally it’s like ‘i guess you have the right to feel that way but how dare you talk about it where other people might hear’ which...well, is particularly common and particularly ironic in the context of people hung up on gay representation.

If we as a society had a healthy relationship with romance, there wouldn’t be negative side effects to that crowd’s pursuit of their worthy goal of applying that schema in places it has been Forbidden, but as it is we don’t, and there are.

#aromanticism #romance #society #social constructs #i throw salt #on a related note #i know The Untamed was Ambiguous because of censorship #but i was still enjoying not being able to tell dammit #you can ALWAYS tell normally #and that's so boring #people complain less about getting fake foreshadowing about who the murderer was than about not knowing who's interested in who #and who has a real shot with their target #being forced to be ambiguous was making those actors bring their A game #so i still wish i could have watched it play out without spoilers #because it's SO RARE that you can't immediately tell which way a story intends itself to be read on that front #and it was such a nice change #and i have legitimately cried several times over the loss of the joy i was getting out of that relationship not being so fucking dull #because like it's still fun and well done and stuff but it's not INTERESTING #i didn't even realize how much i was missing that until i briefly had it and it was taken away #so now i get sad a lot when i think about it #and it sucks that the forms for including romance in our media are so formalized #that the only way to get that realistic unclear coalescence of emotional energies #is by writing a romance and being forced to lie about it #a nonny mouse #ask #hoc est meum

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reachexceedinggrasp · 4 years

Text

Fated to Love You here reaffirming my long held conviction that no pure romance drama should be 20+ episodes.

This show is... really something. It is, in the fullest possible sense, A Lot. It starts out as an all-out screwball comedy wrapped around a troperiffic romance fluff plot. Wall to wall clichés, but not in a bad way; in a meta, self-aware, peak performance, finest Velveeta way. And if you’re not familiar with screwball comedy, think ‘light-hearted crack fic with slapstick and farce’. There is nothing believable or grounded about any aspect of it, it starts at Bonkers Level: Platinum and it only climbs higher as it goes on.

(On a side note, this results in the leading man being possibly the most memorable love interest in romcom history. His introduction scene is nothing short of batshit insane and you can't reliably predict how he will respond to anything. I have never seen a main character like this, he is all over the shop and utterly singular. Your first reaction to him is ‘wtf?’, your second and third reactions are ‘really?! this guy??’, your fourth reaction is ‘okay he do be mad hot tho’, your fifth and final reaction is ‘I cannot believe this performance exists, I have no idea what he is doing, but it is amazing.’

Appropriately(?) the actor who plays him is an uncanny Korean doppelgänger of Johnny Depp and- between the resemblance, the mannerisms, and the fearless total commitment to a bold as fuck acting choice with the very serious chops to back it up- I’m not convinced they aren’t half brothers separated at birth.

They do sabotage my happiness several times by starting to randomly style his (long, beautiful) hair very weird, fixing it right when the plot is rapidly circling the drain so he looks his hottest just as the show becomes briefly unwatchable, and then ruining him for the entire second half of the series by shearing it all off. WHY, my anguished cry goes up. Why do you do this?! Why does he have like seven hairstyles over the course of the show? Much later they even briefly give him that ubiquitous Kdrama Second Lead haircut with weirdly forward combed fringe in a solid straight line across the brow all the way back from the crown. It looks terrible on everyone and I hate it so much. This version was less bad than most but it is still bad. Anyway.)

So it’s an incredibly fun time to start but there are some problems with the tone and plot even in the first 9 episodes, including when the lovers start getting along really well right away and they’re both thoroughly decent people so there’s nothing keeping them from having a lovely time together making the best of the circumstances (forced/fake marriage). And, instead of introducing new conflict or advancing one of the dozen conflicts previously established and actually moving forward, there is a painfully contrived rehash of something they already dealt with which is then just never resolved. They make the hero leap to a conclusion his wife is nefarious after he’d already decided once that she isn’t (though it was completely reasonable for him to think she was- the fact that he decided to trust her so quickly just speaks to what kind of person he is), never try to find out more or talk to anyone about it, start pushing her away because of it, and have all this come to absolutely nothing. It only exists so he’ll stop being so incredibly nice to her and they won’t fall in love too fast.

You’d think they would have to eventually clear the air before the romance advances right? No. It wasn’t a real plot point, it was just a reset button to get them estranged and hostile again after they connect over their kindred spirits and we’ve spent a bunch of time showing how profoundly supportive and honourable our hero is. He’s being beautifully mature and selfless because he’s a really good dude (unusual for a romcom drama, right? for the main guy to be nice and considerate? to accept responsibility even if he doesn’t have to? Gun’s weird but he’s wonderful), but the writers need him to be cold and standoffish, so they just make him act like an unreasonable idiot for a while. He’s been thus far hugely proactive and direct and honest about everything, it’s one of his most prominent character traits, but suddenly he’s going to avoid confrontation in favour of being super passive aggressive?? Then the writers never solve it. Never! It just goes away. He got over it, I guess? He decided he doesn’t care if she’s a gold digger who deliberately trapped him? God forbid we have motivations that make sense and organic character drama, right? It's not like he didn't have totally valid reasons to be suspicious that could have led to legitimate conflict our heroine would struggle to vindicate herself from.

But anyway, apart from that kind of lazy bullshit, it’s a fine romance plot with extremely endearing characters who have great chemistry. They are fun and well-rounded and incredibly human despite all the silliness and OTT antics. Their relationship is hugely, hugely engaging and the dynamic is perfect, they really complement each other as characters and organically drive each other's arcs. There's the genuine depth and warmth and quiet pathos so often lacking from this kind of show. Things progress at a semi-reasonable pace. They work up to confessing their mutual feelings and get into some cute shenanigans before making out. It happens soon enough that you are not frustrated, but there's still plenty of build-up. Then- uh oh! We’re only 9 eps in and we have another 11 hours to fill with this fluffy plot!

Time for a bunch of absolute fucking nonsense. Time for our show, which has been so goofy and removed from reality it occasionally resembles a Monty Python skit, which has been so light it asks you to ignore the frankly incredibly fucked up implications of its premise for the sake of comedy (they were both drugged and proxy raped resulting in a pregnancy- the FL was a virgin prior to this and Gun had a girlfriend he wanted to propose to- and it was the FL’s family who did this to them: SUPER FUCKED UP), so farcical that it makes Some Like it Hot look like a gritty crime drama, that show to cover a bunch of serious heavy shit.

First, the rankest of melodrama. The families and the world all turn on our couple, but their love is true and will conquer all- UNTIL, he randomly collapses and gets convenient Soap Opera Amnesia. He’s forgotten their entire relationship and a series of coincidental pieces of misconstrued evidence, the machinations of his scheming ex girlfriend, the Soap Opera Doctor’s advice, and his closest confidants all going along with this conspire to make him believe (AGAIN) that his wife just wants his money.

This whole terrible episode is mercifully brief, but it just gets worse after his memory returns. This is where we get into the Noble Idiocy. The ‘pretend you don’t love them to “save them” from getting hurt by hurting them and making their important life decisions for them as if they don’t have a basic fucking right to decide that themselves’ kind. Which goes on for three FUCK years in the show. He wastes three years of their lives they could have spent together because he’s worried he might die young (in a terrible way) and doesn’t want to put her through that. And, of course, they inevitably get together later, so all he did was make it infinitely worse for her either way. To say nothing of how he thus couldn’t be there for her through the loss of their child. Possibly my most hated fucking trope of all time when done this way.

And, yep, you read that right. This show that has the single most batshit bonkers over the top slapstick I have ever seen in a kdrama, this show has a storyline where the fluffy romcom trope accidental pregnancy ends in massive trauma. Because she was standing around in the street after realising he does remember her (he continued to pretend he had amnesia after his memories came back, it’s all part of the stupid noble idiocy so I glossed over it) and gets hit by a car in the middle of their angst staring.

It is nearly Meet Joe Black levels of hilariously abrupt and incongruous.

so, blah blah, they lose their baby (there’s a very stupid whole thing about her telling everyone to save the baby instead of her- the baby is not far enough along for this to have been remotely viable. She is like 3 months pregnant. They all act like there’s a choice to be made between them and she’s mad at her husband for choosing to save her, but there was NO CHOICE. Either she lives or they both die! ffs I’m so irritated about this) and then he dumps her ~for her own good~~ because he loves her too much to make her go through losing him? So she loses him sooner?? right after their baby died???

Why do people in these stories always think being betrayed and abandoned for no reason and being incredibly angry at someone you love while also not getting to be with them is somehow less painful than making the best of your life together and then losing them against their will? ‘I will make her hate me and then she won’t be sad we broke up/I died!!!!’ is such a fucking galaxy brain take and I despise it with the heat of ten thousand suns. Fuck you, Spider-Man. You aren’t protecting anyone, the villains still know you love MJ and will still use her against you, you clod. Emotionally torturing the person you love is not going to make them not a target because the villains are not as fucking stupid as you two. Anyway.

Amnesia was right where I started fast-forwarding and skipping around (because I couldn’t bear it), but it only goes downhill from there. Maybe I would have toughed out more of the wretched middle part plot twist if they hadn’t cut all the hot guy’s hair off. If I’m going to watch total nonsense tedious melodrama, I need it to at least be pretty. I understand it was a Symbolic Haircut but damnit! Let me have this!

And it ultimately does the thing that kdramas seem obsessed with and which makes me want to claw out my own eyeballs with frustration. There’s a giant time skip, the female lead gets a personality transplant, all narrative momentum is lost, and the characters who eventually (at ENORMOUS length) get together permanently are essentially completely different characters with a completely different dynamic than the couple you were shipping for 90% of the story. It is so FUCKING unsatisfying and it is EVERYWHERE.

Not so much with this one because this one still had a lot of very romantic scenes late in the game, but most that do this, it’s also like all the romance is sucked out of the post-time skip episodes and the ending is a consolation prize instead of a triumphant culmination. Inevitably, the heroine abruptly cools off and is suddenly wary of the hero and wants this Important New Career she never mentioned until the penultimate episode but is now her one true life’s dream. What the apparently irresistible appeal is of these contrived separations and demure conclusions is I CANNOT FATHOM. I’m here for the fucking romance guys, you have not made Citizen Kane, please just indulge me with a big schmoopy finale.

And if not that, it’s frequently that there’s been so many random mood swings and so much shitty behaviour by the end that the relationship doesn’t make sense and you don’t know why they even bother to get back together.

I’m not inherently against all misunderstandings (they are the bread and butter of low stakes romance let’s be real) or attempts at noble idiocy from misguided characters, but the duration and seriousness of the drama these generate needs to be in proportion to how ridiculous they are. If your entire plot can be solved by a thirty second conversation there is NO REASON not to have and the continuation of the misunderstanding is a result of someone just NOT SPEAKING UP when any functional human being would have spoken up seven times by now IT’S BAD.

Do little cliff-hangers, whatever, but don’t draaaaagg out silly misconceptions into Shakespearean tragedy, it’s just wearying. It makes me hate the characters for acting like emotionally constipated toddlers with terminal stupidity. If there is so little trust, so little understanding, and so little basic patience between these people, they probably shouldn’t be dating, so try fucking harder, writers. And noble idiocy that is more than an impulse they fairly quickly see the error of is just insulting. You are not helping the other person, you are being domineering and selfish. I have a whole complex about wasting time and seeing endless parades of characters flushing years down the toilet for literally no reason gives me hives. Especially when the whole issue is about time!

(And, btw, so much of the plot is about how desperately the family needs an heir and everyone still wanting them to have kids the second time they get together- while the ~dilemma used to keep them apart is a GENETIC DISEASE which could STRIKE AT ANY TIME. Do you SEE THE PROBLEM WITH THIS WRITERS????? NO, I KNOW YOU DON’T. ommmmmmmmggggg that’s awful! So they’re just dooming more kids to Soap Opera Brain Disease? And maybe growing up without a father just as Gun did? And no one even considers suggesting adoption??? He never considers that he shouldn’t have biological children despite thinking he shouldn’t have a wife?)

ANYWAY. Please do watch the first nine episodes and the last three, it’s bananas. They are cute as fuck, Gun is The Best, and the tropey romance scenes are top quality. You don't get those things executed so well, it doesn't happen, so you need this in your life. The acting is of a calibre you never usually see in modern romcoms; these are people at the top of their game committing utterly and taking these characters completely seriously. In that way it is pure wish fulfilment for me as someone who loves romance and is almost always disappointed by popular romance media, and thus the show is incalculably special. But skip the middle. Just skip it. It's not worth the suffering. I find the tone whiplash honestly just this side of crass.

I’ve been thinking about it for over a week and I truly love the main characters so it did plenty right, but I just cannot with wedding the two things this show is trying to be together, especially when it goes so hard in two mutually exclusive directions. but also the Meet Joe Black sudden car accident device is not redeemable under any circumstances. Can we never do that again, please.

#fated to love you #kdrama #jang hyuk #writing

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wellhellsbelles · 4 years

Note

Hii!! I'm so so glad you're back :3 your fanfics were truly my faves. I've had this idea for a fanfic where riley wants to ask farkle to prom but is too scared to do so, so she makes a deal with him that if no one asks them to prom, they'll go together, and something happens and riley has to confess that she wanted to go w/ him and asks him w/ a poster that says: you, me, prom?

ahhhh thank you so much for enjoying my stuff and thanks for the prompt! i hope you enjoy this little fic :)

“So, are ya gonna do it?”

Maya’s face pops up as soon as Riley’s shut her locker door, eyes sparkling in a puckish sort of way that can only mean trouble. Riley clutches her AP Literature textbook against her chest, a brow raised.

“No.”

Maya groans.

“You promised! You told me that today would be the day! You said, and I quote, “Maya, if I don’t do it on this date, you’re allowed to make me buy you something from my mom’s restaurant for a month.” Look, I even have proof of you holding up the calendar with the big red circle outlining today’s date!”

Riley’s best friend whips out her phone, swiping through pictures until she finds what she’s looking for. She holds it up as if it’s incriminating evidence, but Riley doesn’t much care—well, she does, because that picture she took is downright unflattering and should be deleted immediately.

“Let me see that,” Riley demands, and Maya hands her the phone, clawing at her when she trashes it.

“Hey!”

“No one needs to see that picture, Maya. I’m trying to forget what my haircut looked like at the beginning of the year.” She begins to walk off, trying desperately to ignore Maya’s prodding to no avail.

“Riley Matthews, are you going to chicken out? I thought Matthews don’t quit,” Maya says, grinning when it stops Riley in her tracks. “Ha! I got you there.”

Riley moves to make her rebuttal, but the warning bell rings to alert them that they need to be heading to their next class, so she simply rolls her eyes, waving goodbye to Maya as she heads in the opposite direction.

“We’re tabling this, Matthews! Don’t think I won’t let this slide!” Maya calls out. Riley shakes her head, sighing as the weight of anxiety starts to lift.

Yeah, she’s aware she’s a coward. But she’s not about to do it—there’s being brave, and there’s being absolutely idiotic, and if she did go through with it?

It’d change a lot.

She’ll take the chance of being a coward any day over spilling her guts.

Riley’s never been one to believe in coincidence, so when Farkle swings through her window effortlessly later that day, she can’t help but damn fate a little.

“Alright, you, me, AP Literature. Now,” he says, tossing his bag onto her floor and landing on her bed with a thud. Riley pushes her feelings way down inside her, swallows them until she’s able to pretend they’re nonexistent, and glances up at him.

“Why does it feel like all you ever come to me for anymore is AP Lit stuff?”

Farkle scoffs.

“Please, we had a horror movie marathon last weekend. Plus, I brought a bribe. You do still take bribes, right?” he asks, pulling out a bag of sour gummy worms.

“Your bribe has been accepted. Gimme,” she thrusts her hand out, making a grabbing motion. Farkle laughs giving her the bag. She tries to tear it open with her teeth when she can’t rip it with her hands, whooping triumphantly when it tears.

“Don’t hog those. I want some, too.”

Riley wants to tell him he could bugger off, but she knows that sentiment would be null and void. She’d rather give up an arm than force him out of her space, and if that meant sharing his gift of sour gummy worms, she would.

“Leave the—”

“Blue-red ones, I know,” he finishes cheekily, pulling a couple of yellow-red ones out and plopping them into his mouth.

“So, AP Lit?” she asks. Farkle pulls out his textbook and notebook, settling himself comfortably on the end of her bed.

“Am I allowed to say I don’t love poetry? Because this class makes me not a fan of poetry,” he says, nose curling as he reads a question, “Why aren’t there any good science poems?”

“There are, you just aren’t looking for them,” Riley tells him simply.

“Lies. Name one off the top of your head right now,” Farkle jibes, throwing a gummy worm at her.

“The Old Astronomer by Sarah Williams. ‘I have loved the stars too truly to be fearful of the night.’ If I ever did get a tattoo, it’d be with that quote,” she answers, picking the gummy worm off herself and eating it. She looks back at Farkle, who remains . . . unconvinced.

“Pretty quote, still not interested in poetry. I think it’s the form.”

“Okay, what if I told you to look at the scientific method steps like a poem? Because it basically is. BOOM, exploded your mind with hot knowledge!”

“Riley, please. Don’t ruin science for me.”

Riley sticks her tongue out at him, gently kicking him in the thigh with her foot as she settled comfortably into against her pillows. She’s already finished her AP Lit homework, onto her AP Chemistry homework now, but she’s always ready to help Farkle when he needs it. The degree to which she’d drop everything for him, just for him, is downright . . .

Embarrassing.

But she’s learned to take it in stride. There’s something about his presence that always makes her feel a certain sort of way now, but she just reminds herself that this is Farkle, her best friend since she was five, and there’s nothing to be scared of.

Then Maya texts her, and she remembers what it is exactly she’d been fretting.

i know the minkus boy is at ur house!

he just sent me a snap of u

u look like ur having a midlife crisis on ur bed there

better fix that by

i dunno

ASKING HIM THE STUPID QUESTION

Riley shuts her phone off, tossing it to the side to return to her Chemistry textbook.

Chemistry! She’s supposed to be studying for chem, and she will not—it’s absolutely out of the question—say the question that’s in her head.

I thought Matthews’ don’t quit.

Damnit! Maya’s right, Matthews’ don’t quit.

They shouldn’t.

“Farkle?” she calls out to him, ignoring the way he’s mussed his hair in an adorable fashion from being fraught by the poems laid out in front of him.

“Yeah, Riles?”

“So . . .” Just ask it. Ask him, you dummy! “Uh, are you going with anyone to prom?”

“Oh,” he blinks, as if not anticipating the question (he probably wasn’t, come to think of it), “No, not that I’m aware of. Why do you ask?”

Here goes nothing.

“Youwannagotopromwithme?” Riley blurts all at once, the words rushing out of her mouth like vomit. Farkle stares at her, his mouth opening and closing a couple of times as if he’s trying to gauge if she’s serious or not. In fact, the longer he doesn’t talk, the quicker Riley tries to think of a way to recover from this, because ABORT MISSION ABORT!!!

“You know, if no one else asks you? Or you don’t ask anyone else? We can just go as friends,” she supplies, chuckling nervously. Something flashes across Farkle’s face, something that Riley thinks is akin to disappointment, but as soon as it’s there, it’s gone.

He shrugs.

“Sure, why not?”

Riley sighs with relief.

“Okay, cool. Just let me know, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course.”

The night does not return to normal after that. In fact, it’s awkward up until the moment Farkle swoops back out the window with a goodbye and a half-hearted smile. As soon as he vanishes, Riley collapses face-down into her pillow, screaming into it out of pure frustration.

We can just go as friends.

Who is she?! That’s not what she wanted at all, but she chickened out because Maya was freaking right!

But if she had seen the look on his face before she added that . . . Riley made the right decision. She’s sure of it, because if she had been serious?

That’d probably be it, friendship over.

It’s . . . it’s better this way.

She’s certain of it.

. . . Right?

“So?” Maya asks as she arrives beside Riley’s locker the next morning, their usual meet-up. Riley groans, leaning her head inside the locker.

“I asked him and then added just as friends when he didn’t respond right away. So, you know, I kind of asked.”

“Just as friends?!” Maya screeches at her. Riley places her hands on her own head.

“I know! I know. I wasn’t able to go to sleep last night. It was a stupid thing to do anyway, it just made everything a billion times more awkward. Why did I let you talk me into this, Maya?”

“Alright, did he say yes to that, at least?”

Riley nods her head.

“Okay, good. We can work with that. We’ll just have you romance him at prom, no problem.”

“What do you mean ‘no problem’? Yes, problem! I am not doing that, Peaches. I’ve humiliated myself enough for one lifetime. I think I’m going to opt out of prom, maybe bow out of senior year in disgrace or something.”

She hears Maya exhaust a long breath before she’s helping Riley out of her own locker, spinning her around and resting her hands on her shoulders.

“Riley Matthews, you are letting your feelings for a boy get to you too much. Yeah, he’s Farkle, but you’re Riley. You’re magnificent and amazing and if he doesn’t like you back? That’s his loss, because he missed the mark.”

“Thank you, Maya,” Riley smiles softly, hugging her best friend. Maya hugs her back and then releases her, giving her a look that can only mean trouble if Riley knows her well enough (and she does.)

“Okay, you know what? This whole ‘friends’ thing isn’t going to work. I need you to ask him out for real, because I know you’ll hate yourself for it if you don’t. I know it’s a hard thing to do, but you know better than anyone about making hard decisions. So do me a favor and ask him again by the end of this week—properly, mind you—and then the two of you will live freaking happily ever after because if I know Farkle, he’ll be hard pressed to say no. That boy has spent too much of his life in love with you. It’s not any different now.”

Riley allows herself to soak that in.

Is Maya really right? He did love her, but Riley’s not certain that was a real type of love. But then again, Farkle’s never been one to half-ass things. He’s loved her so many ways, so why not love her the way she loves him now?

“I’ll do it,” Riley agrees against her better judgement.

Wednesday passes. She doesn’t ask Farkle to the prom. Thursday passes. She doesn’t ask. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday all whirl by her quickly, but she still hasn’t mustered the courage to ask. Even after the wonderful pep-talk Maya gave her, Riley still couldn’t find it in herself to breach the subject with him because she was just scared.

Liking Farkle really scared her, and she didn’t like that at all. Because scaring her meant that these feelings were more than just a passing phase, that she was bound to be stuck in this limbo of he-loves-me-he-loves-me-not for the rest of forever until she broke it.

So Sunday night she plans to ask him Monday at the end of school, even gets Maya in on it so that she can’t back out again.

She can’t back out this time; she won’t do it.

When Monday rolls around, Riley thanks whoever is out there that, while they share classes, she and Farkle don’t share the same class periods. It’s what’s helped her endure her second semester of senior year; while she appreciates having him there, she’s not sure she wouldn’t waste her class time glancing at him across the room.

Her last class period of the day moves both fast and at a snail’s pace, so when the bell rings it surprises her so much that she takes her several minutes to gather her things. Riley’s never been more off her game in her entire life, but then again, she’s never had to actually ask Farkle to prom for real before.

(Well, she’s never had to ask Farkle out period. That was always his game, not hers. Too bad she can’t get pointers from him.)

Riley heads out to meet Maya at her locker, passing by the stragglers who haven’t made it out yet, but something catches her eye instead.

It’s Farkle, at his own locker, with a girl who has people standing with her, holding several letters decorated with fake flowers spelling out PROM.

Riley’s too late.

PEACHES

where were u???

i stayed at ur locker

like we planned

i even asked farkle if he saw u

he said he didn’t

so something happened

pls tell me ur okay ☹

Riley doesn’t bother texting Maya despite knowing she owes her best friend an explanation. She’s too busy wallowing in self-pity and the humiliation of rejection to deal with anyone right now.

She should’ve been quicker. She shouldn’t have been a chicken about it and just told him about her dumb, stupid feelings and gotten it over with. Anything at this point would be preferable to the sting Riley feels in her chest when she thinks about how she missed out on not just being Farkle’s date to prom but experiencing prom with him. It’s not the same without him by her side.

So no prom for Riley Matthews. She cashed in on her one chance at going Junior year, and as far as Riley was concerned, this probably meant her chance with Farkle, too.

But fate is not as kind to her, because Farkle climbs through her window, landing on the cushions of the bay window bench with a soft thud.

“What the heck,” he says, breathing out a sigh of relief when he’s spotted her, “Maya and I thought you died in a ditch! What were you thinking?”

Riley has no response for that. In fact, she’s pretty certain her brain’s shut off entirely for the foreseeable future, because in no way had she planned on encountering Farkle for as long as she could hold it off.

It’s now or never, Matthews, a voice that sounds vaguely like Maya whispers in her mind. Riley exhales.

Right.

“Are you going to prom with that girl?” she asks instead, eyes set with determination. Farkle stares at her, bewildered.

“What?! Your response to Maya and I worrying about your safety is some trivial question about prom?”

“It’s not trivial to me!” Riley exclaims, the burn of embarrassment bubbling up out of her. The intensity of her words must cross Farkle’s radar, because his eyes are widening.

“Riley? What’s going on?”

She makes a decision then, unable to fight with these godforsaken feelings any longer. She tosses the poster she’d worked painstakingly on for hours onto the bed, gesturing to it brazenly.

“I was going to ask you to prom for real today. I know I made a joke of it the other night, but I really meant it. I wanted to go to prom with you because I like you, Farkle. I’m tired of ignoring my feelings and pushing them away because I think it might benefit you. These feelings I have are real and they’re not going away any time soon, okay?”

Farkle’s eyes shift over to the poster, eyes tracing the words over and over again, as if it’s taking him a while to register it.

You. Me. Prom. Let’s do this thing?

It was hard for Riley to come up with a way to ask him that was both clever and meaningful, and she chose something that was between them and only them. He had once told her, “You. Me. Mars. Let’s do this thing.” It was always something that hardly meant anything to her back then but means the world to her now, or at least, it did before she realized she’d been too late.

“So?” Farkle asks, voice rough as if his throat had run dry. Riley tilts her head.

“What?”

“Are you going to ask me properly or not? We’re losing daylight here, Matthews,” Farkle says, arms crossed against his chest. Riley scoffs, rolling her eyes. She doesn’t quite get why he’s trying to be cruel to her at this point, but whatever.

“Farkle Minkus, I wanted to know. You. Me. Prom. Let’s do this thing?”

“Yes,” comes his answer, flowing off his tongue as if it’s the easiest thing he’s ever said in his life. Riley nearly jumps out of her seat but recovers at the last second.

“Yes?”

“Riley Matthews, yes, of course I’ll go to prom with you.”

“But—”

“No, I didn’t say yes to that other girl because I had already told you that we could go together. Sure I was kind of disappointed when you said it was as friends, but . . . you’re my best friend. It doesn’t matter what capacity our relationship is, I just want to be with you.”

Riley doesn’t get it.

“Wait, so what you’re saying is—”

“Riley Matthews, I’ve loved you since the first grade. I don’t think I ever stopped, really. So yes, I’ll go to prom with you as your date, because I’m so in love with you it isn’t funny,” Farkle tells her, giving her a gentle, lopsided grin. Riley scrambles off her bed the same time he rises from the bay window bench, the two of them embracing harder than she ever has in her entire life.

“I’m sorry I freaked out on you,” she admits into the crook of his neck. He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

“It’s okay. You’re the same Riley you’ve always been, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

#riarkle #ask #riarkle fanfic #riarkle fanfiction #riley x farkle #farkle x riley #i should not have stayed up this late to finish this #but i was determined

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Level Up, Chapter Six (Branjie) - Holtzmanns

Asia shoots her a look that is all too knowing. “Sure it ain’t. But if Brooke already had a girlfriend, wouldn’t you be pissed?”

“Why would I care?” Vanessa takes a sip of her coke, because really, why would she? It wouldn’t matter. Not at all.

“Here’s a weird thought,” Monique lets out a little snicker as she leans forward, elbows on the table, “imagine if Brooke and Kameron were dating each other.”

“The fuck-”

“No way-”

“Aren’t they sisters?”

“They have different last names, dumbass-”

AN: Chapter six has arrived! I appreciate all of you for being so patient with this fic, especially with the updates taking more time than they used to. Thank you all for the kind words and reviews too, they make me so happy. Tell me what you think of this one after you read it, too. And as always, Writ is the bestest beta and I love them.

“I vote ramen, ‘cause it’s been way too long since I’ve had my ramen fix.”

“Not ramen, we gotta get burritos. They’ll hit the spot right now.”

“Y’know, sometimes you make real questionable decisions.”

Monet and Monique volleying back and forth with one another is incredibly entertaining to watch, though Vanessa’s too wiped from their class to attempt to contribute to the dinner plans herself. Their weekly Monday night dinners had been Asia’s idea a few months back, brought up after class one night when they’d all been sweaty and thirsty and absolutely starving. Vanessa likes it, because it’s a chance to get closer to the three of them outside of class, learning about them past their hatred for cardio and their preferred colour of athleisure wear.

The sushi place a couple of blocks down from the gym is one that all four of them can agree on, as Asia holds the door open for Monet and Monique with a look at Vanessa.

“Ten bucks says they’re gonna order together and share their sushi.” Asia cocks her head towards Monique and Monet as the four of them sit down in a booth.

Vanessa watches the way that Monet and Monique nudge each other’s elbows, trying to take up more space on the table. “Nah. They’re gonna fight over each other’s pieces and make it a whole thing.”

“You’re on.” Asia holds out her hand for Vanessa to shake. “It’s kinda cute though, not gonna lie. In an idiotic way.”

Vanessa holds back a snicker. “Do you think they’re ever gonna realize?”

“I dunno about that.” Asia shrugs. “It seems like they’re so caught up in trying to get each other’s attention that they’re completely missing it.”

“Ah. Modern romance.” Vanessa lets out a fake sigh and dodges Asia’s elbow towards her rib cage.

“They’re blind to each other, not deaf to us,” Asia mutters, “so shut that foghorn.”

“Bitch-”

“Hi, my name is Simone, what can I get for you?”

The conversation doesn’t stray far after the four of them order, though the focus does shift - and Vanessa is glad that it does, from the way Asia folds her arms and scowls at the mention of a certain redheaded instructor, the slightest hint of pink on her cheeks.

“Fuck off, all of you. There’s nothing going on between me and Kameron.”

“Uh, let me correct you. Nothing yet.” Monique points at Asia with a flourish, looking unbothered when Asia sticks her tongue out at her. “Why don’t you ask her out? She’s clearly into you.”

“What? No she’s not.” Asia scoffs, her eyes darting around the table. “Is she?”

Vanessa snorts. “Please. As if it isn’t obvious to the entire class by the way that she flirts with you. And the way that you always flirt back.”

“I don’t flirt back. I don’t flirt in the first place.” Asia stuffs a piece of sushi in her mouth, though it doesn’t do much to stall the conversation the way she probably wants it to.

“Oh, Kameron, your muscles are so strong and your tattoos are so hot, can I lick them?” Monique’s high pitched, breathy imitation makes Vanessa nearly spit out her coke, even when Asia kicks her under the table.

“Come here, Asia, let me just bench press you real quick.” Monet flexes her guns for good measure when imitating Kameron, and puckers her lips towards Monique, who comes closer and closer with a pout of her own before pulling back at the last second, batting her eyelashes towards Asia.

“Hateful, unbelievable, I cannot believe my own friends are slandering me like this when all I do is support y’all and put food on the table-” Asia’s words are cut off when Vanessa holds up a roll to her mouth.

“Here, this dynamite roll will help you embrace the truth.” Vanessa snickers when Asia throws her the evil eye as she chews. “‘Kay, think of it this way. If Kameron had a girlfriend right this second, would you be mad about it?”

“She doesn’t have a girlfriend.” Asia’s matter of fact tone makes Vanessa raise her eyebrows, while Monet and Monique throw looks at each other. “What? She doesn’t.”

“Now is there any way that you know that, or is that just wishful thinking on your part?” Monet asks, ignoring the way Asia lets out a huff.

Vanessa pats Asia’s shoulder. “She better not have a girlfriend, just so you can get some puss and unwind a little, you know what I’m saying?”

“See, now you’re one to talk, Vanj.” Asia turns towards Vanessa, brandishing a roll in her chopsticks and using it to point. “As if you and Brooke aren’t circling each other like hawks.”

“What?” Vanessa squeaks the word out because hey, she’s having fun roasting Asia.

But it’s too late, because Monique and Monet have matching grins on their faces and Asia looks entirely too happy to have the conversation diverted away from her.

“Now that I think about it, you do spend a lot of time in her office. Does she push you up against the desk that much?” Monet wiggles her eyebrows and Vanessa lets out a scoff.

“It ain’t like that.”

It’s not. Brooke is…her friend. Someone who Vanessa enjoys talking to and learning more about, someone whose smile lights up the room she’s in when she’s really happy. Someone who, for being muscles stacked on a pair of legs, is really clumsy on a set of wheels.

Someone who Vanessa wants to keep spending more time with, that’s all. It doesn’t matter if Vanessa thinks about kissing her sometimes, anyway. Her friends don’t need to know that.

Asia shoots her a look that is all too knowing. “Sure it ain’t. But if Brooke already had a girlfriend, wouldn’t you be pissed?”

“Why would I care?” Vanessa takes a sip of her coke, because really, why would she? It wouldn’t matter. Not at all.

“Here’s a weird thought,” Monique lets out a little snicker as she leans forward, elbows on the table, “imagine if Brooke and Kameron were dating each other.”

“The fuck-”

“No way-”

“Aren’t they sisters?”

“They have different last names, dumbass-”

But the idea is enough for the four of them to burst into laughter, move on to other topics. And Vanessa’s glad for it, because she can take a step away from thoughts of Brooke for a little while.

Except that they filter back into her stream of consciousness as she sips on her soda, twirling her chopsticks between her fingers. Vanessa would be lying if she ever says that she hasn’t…y’know. Thought about Brooke like that. Because Vanessa’s not blind, Brooke is hot and tall and her legs go on forever and maybe the way she smiles makes Vanessa’s heart do a flip, but-

Brooke is so much deeper than that. Their friendship is. Because Vanessa’s told her shit that she doesn’t really talk about with anyone else, and sure, she’s kept it vague, but it’s more than she lets anyone else be privy to. And Brooke’s beginning to open up to her too and it’s nice to see what makes Brooke tick. What thoughts lie behind her fists and the subtle lift of her eyebrow and power her brain. It feels like Brooke’s trusting her, and thinking of her as more than just an athlete at her gym. Hell, Brooke had let Vanessa take her skating, something out of her comfort zone and had just rolled with it.

Vanessa likes it. And it’s hard not to smile as she finishes her sushi, watching Monique down glass after glass of water because she’s had too much wasabi, thinking about hanging out with Brooke even more.

Plumbers are expensive. Brooke can fix a simple leak.

At least, that’s what she had told herself two hours ago, before being splattered with water and who knows what else and feeling a squelch in her shoes and rattling off every curse word under the sun, as she twists the wrench in her hand because the stupid thing still won’t stop leaking, damnit.

But the bathroom is going to be unusable if Brooke can’t fix it. She’d looked up a tutorial on Youtube and everything, and the guy on the screen had made it look so easy, just with a few tools that she already has lying around in the storage closet. Who needs to shell out a couple hundred bucks for a plumber when Youtube exists?

Brooke, apparently. Because the leak is continuing to drip, drip onto the bathroom floor and is nearly filling up the bucket underneath it.

Maybe Brooke just has to watch the video again. Maybe she’d missed something the first time around, a crucial step that has to be done in order to stop the leak. She reaches her hand up to pat the counter above her, grabbing her phone when she feels it under her hand, and-

“What’re you doing under the bathroom sink?”

“What - ow!” Brooke winces at the ache forming at the crown of her head, lifting a hand to her still speeding heart. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” Vanessa’s voice sounds sheepish from above her, before she squats down beside Brooke and shrugs her shoulders. “You having an 80’s movie moment or something?”

“What does that even mean?”

“I dunno. Sitting in the bathroom by yourself seems deep.”

Brooke snorts, lifting the wrench in her hand the point at the pipe in front of them. “No movie scene. Just fixing a leak. Well, attempting to fix a leak,” Brooke groans, rolling out her neck, “because it’s refusing to cooperate with me.”

“Scoot over.” Vanessa elbows Brooke’s side, fitting herself in the small space beside her. “Gimme the wrench.”

“Why, you wouldn’t happen to have a hidden career in plumbing, would you?”

But Vanessa’s barely listening, leaning forward to look at the pipes. “Broken seal right under the sink. Get some sealant from Home Depot and it’ll be good as new.”

Well. Maybe Vanessa does.

“You think as a kid my mom was gonna, in her words, ‘let a crook rip us off and break everything more so that we have to pay extra ‘cause it’s all part of a money making scheme?’ Nah. I can find my way around some tools.” Vanessa hands the wrench back to Brooke before nudging her shoulder. “Now that’ll be two hundred dollars, please.”

“Nice try.” Brooke snorts. “But thank you. Let me grab you lunch or something?”

“Well…there is something I wanted to ask you about anyway.” Vanessa’s shifting in place, her eyes suddenly flickering back along the pipes. “And no pressure to say yes at all, ‘cause I was just wondering, but it would be real great…”

The way Vanessa trails off makes Brooke raise an eyebrow, turn towards her because she has no idea what Vanessa’s talking about, but maybe it’s because Vanessa doesn’t really want her to stick around for extra training anymore, or maybe Vanessa’s tired of spending time with her, or something else that’s going to make Brooke want to hide away for a little. But Brooke swallows, ignores the way that she feels her lungs filling up, and pushes on. “What? What would be great?”

“So hear me out first, don’t get mad…” Vanessa trails off, and the way she’s fiddling with the ends of her hair makes Brooke want to shift in place herself. “There’s another tournament coming up. Kameron mentioned it during class yesterday. And I know that’s not your thing, and that’s cool, but I wanted to sign up for it at a higher level than last time and maybe…you can help train me for it?”

Brooke’s about to open her mouth but doesn’t really know what to say, because Vanessa’s right that it’s not her thing, but Vanessa holds up a hand before she does. “Don’t say anything. Just think about it. I’d pay you and everything, though with the rate that all these classes are taking my money I’m about to be broke as hell. But still. Think it over?”

Vanessa’s getting up onto her feet, slinging her bag over her shoulder before Brooke can even think of something to say. “So. Sealant. Home Depot. Maybe training me? I can be your padawan or something. You into Star Wars? ‘Cause I was, as a kid. Anyway, I gotta bounce, but think about it!”

Vanessa shouts the last bit as she exits through the door and Brooke can’t help but let out a breath, resting her cheek on one of her palms as she watches the slow and steady drip of the water from the pipe.

She really does have a lot to think about. But that’s what Brooke is good at doing, after all–thinking, and thinking, and overthinking. Mulling over scenario after scenario until they all blur together and it becomes too difficult, really, to discern what is actually real and going to happen. Not that Brooke even knows.

Vanessa’s question stays in her mind once she’s home that evening, curled up on the couch with Henry and Apollo on either side of her, the episode of Parks and Recreation on the television one that she’s seen a dozen times already. Brooke can hear Yvie clanging her pots and pans in the kitchen, letting out a string of curse words when the oven begins to beep, but the noises of her roommate and from the television aren’t enough to distract her mind from what it really wants to think about.

Vanessa wants Brooke to coach her. Actually, properly, coach her. It’s not as if Brooke doesn’t do it right now, anyway - spending time with her in the gym behind a punching bag and giving Vanessa tips here and there. But it’s never for an actual purpose, to reach a goal. It’s just for Vanessa to get better, to motivate her and sue Brooke, she enjoys the time with her, too.

But coaching towards something, like the tournament that Vanessa wants to sign up for?

It feels too…close. Boxing in the gym is safe, because punching bags and controlled matches leave some room for error but not too much, not the way a competition does. The athletes at Brooke’s gym don’t go home with broken noses or goose eggs on their heads, because they’re not fighting to win at all costs. They’re there to get better and work out and work on technique and if they sign up for tournaments? It’s on their individual coaches, such as Kameron. It’s not on Brooke if something bad happens, she’s not the one leading someone towards injury or…worse.

If Brooke coaches Vanessa more, if she works on drills and plans workouts and and trains her, properly trains her, then it’s on her. If anything happens to Vanessa, it’s Brooke’s fault. Brooke’s going to be the one left to pick up the pieces, the one who’s going to have to tell Vanessa’s sister and mom when things inevitably go wrong. She’ll be responsible.

Brooke can’t do that to Vanessa. She can’t be the one to ruin everything for her, the one to mess things up in a way that can’t be fixed anymore.

“Scoot over.” Yvie plops herself down on the couch beside Brooke, pulling the blanket on Brooke’s lap to cover her own legs, too. “Want some? Latest kitchen experiment. It’s supposed to be jambalaya but I strayed a little from the recipe. Well, I strayed a lot. But still.”

“It’s 10 p.m. You’re having dinner this late?” Brooke raises an eyebrow but reaches for a spoon nonetheless, taking a bite. “This isn’t half bad.”

“Scarlet facetimed me in the middle and I got distracted.” Yvie shrugs, taking a bite of her own. “But we got here in the end.”

“What, did she hypnotize you with her boobs or something to make you forget about your dinner?” Brooke ducks out of the way when Yvie shrieks, whacking her with a pillow.

“One day, your lonely ass is gonna get a girlfriend, and I can’t wait to tease you about it, you old hag.” Yvie cackles as she says it and Brooke can’t help but snort, too.

“You share this old hag apartment with me. We’re both old hags.”

“Speak for yourself, grandma.” Yvie lifts up her bowl when Henry climbs into her lap, reaching his nose up towards the food. “Speaking of the apartment, I’m thinking of doing a Target run Sunday morning for a cast iron skillet. Wanna come with?”

“Can’t. Gonna be at the gym with Vanessa on Sunday morning.” Just like Brooke does every Sunday, and many other days during the week, but she can feel the way her heart turns in her chest, the way it feels like there’s a current running through her fingertips because…

Well, Brooke still doesn’t know what to do.

“Hello? Did you hear anything I just said?” Yvie’s snapping her fingers in front of her face and Brooke jumps, causing Apollo to let out an annoyed meow.

“Maybe? Not really. Sorry.” Brooke mumbles, shifting Apollo on her lap. “Repeat that?”

“I was gonna say we can go Saturday instead. But let’s backtrack, why do you look like you just swallowed a bag of nails or something?” Yvie tilts her head slightly, and Brooke can’t help but make a face at her description.

“Nails? Jesus.” The mental image is a little too strong in Brooke’s brain for her liking, but Yvie is unperturbed.

“What’s up?”

Brooke sighs, her hand scratching Apollo’s chin the way that he likes it. “Vanessa asked me to coach her.”

“And? You’re already doing that.” Yvie raises an eyebrow.

Brooke shuffles on the couch, turning more towards her. “Yeah, but I’m not officially coaching her right now, I’m just there to hold the punching bag and sometimes throw her pointers, it’s not like I’m her personal coach and responsible if things happen to her and it ends up being my fault.”

“Alright, hold up.” Yvie covers her mouth as she chews, though she still gets her words out. “Your fault? And who says anything is going to happen to her?”

“I’m not saying it will, but if it did.” Brooke sinks herself further into the couch cushions. “Boxing competitively is a lot, y’know? It’s not just easy matches and punches, it’s hits to the head and occasional tears and stitches. It’s shit going down that you don’t feel until after the match is over.”

“And? Vanessa’s a grown woman. And from what you’ve told me about her, it seems like she can handle herself just fine.”

It’s true that Yvie’s heard a lot of stories from Brooke about Vanessa. About the hilarious things that she says, the way she cheers anytime there’s a water break during her classes, the way she brought Brooke some timbits that one time. But the way Yvie’s looking at Brooke with eyes that are too knowing makes her want to shift in place, pull a cushion on top of herself.

“But what if something happens and she can’t?”

“Here’s the thing. Bad things happen all the time. When you step onto the street, you can be hit by a car. Hell, a vending machine can fall on you. You can get attacked by a vulture or something-”

“I’m not so sure about that last one-”

“-and honestly, there’s no stopping any of it. Shit happens. And knowing Vanessa, she seems like the type to want to train more and more and compete more too. She’s going to do it regardless of whether you’re there or not. Wouldn’t you rather be the one training her and making sure that she’s as prepared as she can be? That she’s ready? Isn’t it better that she learn from the best in the first place?” Yvie’s eyes are sympathetic, though the effect is slightly ruined as she takes a bite of her jambalaya.

“Who’s saying I’m the best?” Brooke has to hold back a laugh at the way Yvie’s rolling her eyes.

“Don’t start fishing for compliments with me, you know what I mean. If she’s competing anyway, support her. Be there for her. Beat up anyone that she loses against.”

“Not very sportsmanlike.”

“Regardless, maybe you being there can help prevent any chance of something shitty happening, because you can catch things. And you actually care for her as a person rather than just an athlete, which is more than can be said for many coaching relationships.” Yvie shrugs.

“I don’t do coaching, though. I never have before, not properly.” It’s another reminder that takes over Brooke’s thought process, because she doesn’t know how to refine someone else’s skills, not really. “What if I’m shit at it and it makes her crash and burn in a competition?”

Yvie shoots her a look. “Do you really think that’ll happen?”

“It could.”

“You take what you already know about boxing and what you’ve learned from your own coaches in the past, and you pass it on. That’s all it’s gonna take. You two can learn the rest together.” Yvie’s hopeful smile makes her words sound like the easiest thing to do in the world, but it’s not that simple. It can’t be.

“This isn’t an elementary school group project.”

“Yeah, it is. Gym class.” Yvie snickers, before reaching out to squeeze her hand. “Honestly? I feel like it could be good for both of you. You get to spend more time with her, don’t you?”

Brooke raises an eyebrow. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“As if you don’t absolutely love it and come home from each practice session with her with a million stories about her.” Yvie’s knowing look is paired with a snicker, and it makes Brooke scowl.

“I’m just telling you about my day, Yvette.”

“Not the full name, Brooke Lynn. But either way, you know you’d enjoy coaching her. You’re telling me you wouldn’t be jealous if someone else started coaching her one on one?”

“What? No, I wouldn’t care. She can do what she wants.” Brooke scoffs, because it wouldn’t matter. None of Brooke’s business what Vanessa does, anyway.

“You’re as convincing as fifteen year old me was while trying to convince my parents that no, I didn’t have a hickey on my neck from my chem lab partner. Spoiler alert, didn’t work.” Yvie has a shit-eating grin on her face that makes Brooke roll her eyes, nudge her side.

“Shut up.”

“Do it. Coach her. You know you want to.”

Yvie’s right, which is a problem in itself. Brooke really does want to. And when the clock on her bedside table passes one in the morning because she’s unable to fall asleep, she finds herself reaching for her phone.

BLH: Fine, I’ll train you.

The three dots at the bottom of their conversation pop up immediately, and Brooke rubs her eyes as she waits for Vanessa’s reply. It’s not a text that comes through, but rather an audio message that Brooke eagerly presses play on.

“BIIIIIITCH! Are you serious?! Yesss! This is gonna be so good, you won’t regret it I swear. Question, can we play Eye of the Tiger the first time we train? I feel like it’s gonna set the mood real well. Also, why you still awake? Go to sleep. NIGHT!”

Brooke has to stifle a laugh as she shuts off her phone, placing it back on her bedside table. She’s not sure how it’s going to work - coaching Vanessa, trying to recall her days of training under her dad and what she’d do day in, day out, to refine her skills. But it’ll be interesting to try and get back into that mindset.

Maybe Brooke can start now. She’s not going to fall asleep anytime soon, anyway.

It feels strange turning on her laptop and going to the boxing folder, then the subfolder of training videos organized by year, with the most recent being five years prior. The folder is a time capsule filled with videos taken at the gym of Brooke training with her dad to watch and observe her own techniques, all of her tells as a boxer. She remembers watching them during practices back then, her dad pointing out moments where she’d left herself vulnerable to attacks, others where she would have been able to strike more efficiently.

Now, when Brooke clicks on a video, she’s not watching for herself, not anymore. Now? She’s watching for her dad.

He’s in the blue t-shirt that he always used to wear, the watch with the cracked screen on his wrist as he holds up punching mitts in front of Brooke’s face on the screen. A Brooke five years ago with less worry lines on her face, less bags underneath her eyes. One with muscles that flexed as she moved, with an expression of steely determination that’s almost surprising to see now, so many years later.

“Don’t drop those arms. Even if you’re taking a second to breathe, keep them up.”

Shit.

The sound of her dad’s voice is like a cold gust of air to Brooke because she hasn’t heard it in so long, and the familiarity of his intonation, his rhythm pulls her right back. It’s as if he could still be here, as if she could wake up tomorrow and go to the gym and practice like nothing has happened, like it hasn’t been five years of trying to cope and heal and not necessarily succeeding.

“Good one. Try that combo again.”

Brooke still has the tank she’s wearing in the video, she’s sure of it. Another item that she hasn’t let go of.

“Step sideways, not always backwards. You know that. Don’t get cornered in the ring.”

She can keep watching these videos and try to relive the moments, the practices with her dad and give into the longing that clings to her heart like debris, that she’s never truly been able to shake off. It does provide that short term relief, the feeling of seeing her dad happy, breathing, alive. Seeing how good he was.

“That’s what I’m talking about! Let’s take five, grab some water. Then we’re gonna keep going.”

But it also shows Brooke a past that isn’t here anymore. A time that she’s not going to get back no matter how hard she tries to manifest it, because she can’t step into her computer screen into a simpler time that she used to take for granted. It’s a fact that she knows well, one that’s been repeated to her by friends and family members and therapists and one that her brain ignores on default, despite the way that doing so can make the knife twist in a little deeper.

“Get your gloves back on, we’ll-”

Brooke shuts her laptop, pushing it to the other side of the bed before her brain can protest. Apollo lets out a mrrp at the movement on the bed, and Brooke reaches out and scratches his chin, trying to ignore the silence in the room that feels deafening with her screen off.

She tends to get sucked in. It’s a fact that Brooke knows well. That when she finds something, she clings to it until it loses all meaning, until the sentimental value is diminished.

But Brooke isn’t going to now, with the old videos. Because sure, it’s her dad in shitty old iPhone video quality and it’s more of him than she’s had in ages, but…

It’s not helpful. Not right now.

Not that any of Brooke’s coping methods are, but she’s trying. Or at least, she’s going to start.

Brooke can almost hear the faint cheer of her old therapist in her ears, thrilled that she’s finally being listened to. Sure, it’s something insignificant, something small, and maybe part of Brooke really does want to open up her computer again, rifle through the videos, but she wont. Her hands are buried in Apollo’s fur, anyway, and why would she want the purring to stop?

Her cat is a big enough reason for now to avoid watching them, falling back into the memories. He’s a start. And maybe that’s all Brooke has to do, find more reasons to keep herself grounded and in the present.

But first, she has to find another way to prepare herself to properly coach, though that’s a problem she can save for the morning.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #lesbian au #boxer au #level up #holtzmanns

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blouisparadise · 5 years

Photo

Upon request, here is a rec list of bottom Louis fics that feature choking or breathplay. Please be sure to read any tags or warnings on these fics.

Happy reading!

1) Give And Take | Explicit | 1837 words

Sometimes Louis just needs.

2) Tell Me That I'll See You Again. | Explicit | 2764 words

"Uhm Liam." Louis whispers in hope of Harry not noticing them yet.

"What?" Liam asks looking down at him.

"You know how I went home with someone last night and left you at the pub?" Louis whispers again, glancing at Harry who is too engrossed on his phone.

"Uhm yeah?"

"That's him, that's the guy I took home. Fuck, who knew you knew him Liam." Louis says with a fake laugh, as he watches the way Liam's eyes widen at the realisation.

3) Someone Who Knows How To Ride | Explicit | 3062 words

"You could just fuck me," says Louis almost conversationally. He's moving at a leisurely sort of pace, just gently rocking back and forth now, tiny movements that drive Harry mad. "Could just grab hold of me, make me bounce on your dick like you want. But you're not gonna do that, are you?"

4) Blue Eyes, Black Jeans, Lighters, Candy | Explicit | 3629 words

Harry is in Madrid and Louis had a hard week.

5) Demons | Mature | 4002 words

Where Harry is a demon and Louis is a hunter, and Harry fuck Louis into oblivion.

6) Oh Daddy! | Not Rated | 4406 words

Lights, camera, action.

If he likes me, takes me home.

You can be my Daddy.

7) Total Infuriating Of The Heart | Not Rated | 4805 words

Louis hates Harry. They go to a party, then fuck. That's it really.

8) For Love To Disdain | Explicit | 4929 words

Louis is a wizard who’s slowly leaning towards the dark side and Harry is his toxic ex-boyfriend that he hasn’t seen in three years. Due to a wrongly conjured spell, they end up bound together in chains, fighting to get out of them – literally.

9) I’m Slipping Under | Explicit | 5350 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic.

What better way would there actually exist than starting it filthily with Louis falling apart on his tongue? Nothing else could have surpassed that.

Nothing.

That's what Harry had thought at first, at least.

10) We Wreak Havoc With Our Hearts | Explicit | 9417 words

Harry finds that he can’t keep things separate; neither can Louis.

11) Night Out | Mature | 9741 words

Note: The sequel to this fic is #18 on this list. It is also locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Symphony hall was the first place Louis had felt at home in this city, and he always had the box to himself. Until tonight.

12) Be A Good Boy | Explicit | 10152 words

Things aren't spicy enough in the infamous Style residence, and no matter how hard they try its apparent to Harry there is only one way to fix this...

13) Open Your Eyes And See The Way Our Horizons Meet | Not Rated | 10201 words

Louis takes a deep breath and tries to calm his beating heart, and get rid of the, to be honest, pretty slim chance that he’s either getting raped or kidnapped tonight. He is snapped out of his thoughts as a huge hand is held out in front of his face, and he quickly gets up and shakes it.

“Nice to meet you, Louis”, Harry says, and Louis has to admit that his voice is pretty attractive in its slow drawl that rolls like melting chocolate over his words.

14) Little White Lies | Explicit | 10450 words

Louis makes an off hand comment in an interview then comes home to find Harry has laid his old braces out on their bed.

15) Know You Got That Thing (That I Like) | Explicit | 15798 words

In all the ways he thought about their reunion going, watching Louis finger himself open was not on the list.

16) Secret Little Rendezvous. | Not Rated | 17388 words

Louis is a priest struggling with his temptations and Harry is the irresistible stripper/sex worker that helps open his eyes up into a whole new world of sinful pleasure.

17) True North | Explicit | 25757 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Altered-canon non-au set between November 2012 and January 7th, 2013.

18) I Promise I'll Be Better | Explicit | 26552 words

Diner AU. Harry works the late shift at Oliver's Diner. He meets Louis, who only ever orders coffee at one AM. Louis has shaky hands and bruised wrists and Harry wants to know why. Harry invites Louis home with him one night, when Louis implies he has no where to go. Harry wants to know everything about Louis. Louis doesn't know if he's willing to share anything at all.

19) Sounds Like Heaven | Explicit | 30516 words

A very painful AU where singer/actor Harry Styles and songwriter Louis Tomlinson are married and have a daughter, but are not together any more. Except of course, it’s not that simple.

20) You Say You A Gangsta (That Don't Impress Me None) | Mature | 31392 words

“I knew you were too perfect, of course you had to be the leader of a Mafia… Of all things, the leader of a Mafia!”

21) Saving Symphony Hall | Mature | 124766 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to #9 on this list. It is also locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

“I think I have an idea,” Louis said. Slowly, and reluctantly, but with a growing sense of the inevitable. “God damnit, I think I have a really good idea.”

“Oh christ, that's the problem-solving face,” Babs said. “Last time we saw that face, he sold a company.”

“Wait, what?” Zayn asked.

“Right place, right time,” Louis said. “Also, fuck my life,”

“What?” Zayn repeated. Niall patted his hand.

“I usually just roll with whatever Louis is about to do,” he said. “It’s better for us all.”

“That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#this is a kinkier one!#we've received a bunch of requests for it #so we hope you enjoy :)#if you do #please reblog and spread this rec list!#bottom louis #top harry #breathplay #choking #fic recs #blp fic recs #blp

135 notes · View notes

holdyourfire · 4 years

Text

taylir gar Tracyn

hold your Fire (Mando’a)

Fic rating: General with a couple Mature chapter in the middle

Fic Tags: Poe x OFC, hurt/comfort, angst, massive slow burn, pining, eventual fluff, Mandalorians, enemies to friends to...,

Fic warnings: mild sexual content, panic attacks, minor character death

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

no warnings for this chapter

Chapter 3 - Friction

1.6k words

***

Poe was woken the next day, by a string of unrelenting beeps from his BB unit. He groaned.

“Has the alarm even gone yet? Let me sleep ‘til the alarm goes off.”

He stayed where he was, eyes beginning to droop shut when the familiar alarm blared through the barrack speakers.

Instantly, BB-8 rolled away from his charging port to intentionally bump against Poe’s bunk.

“Urgh!”

Poe hauled himself upright, sitting on the edge of his cot and blinking blearily at his little droid who peered up at him.

“Mornin’ buddy,” he drawled through a yawn.

BB-8 hummed before chirping excitedly.

“Well, you’ll see her when we're about to leave. Unless you come to first-meal. Why are you so excited to meet her?”

BB whirred, jostling his body back and forth. Poe frowned.

“I didn’t mean to make her sound really cool. Is that really how it appeared?”

The droid just warbled affirmatively. Poe sighed heavily. Perfect.

“Just remind me of the stuff I need to pack after first-meal ok?”

Poe stood and stretched before shaking his head violently in the mirror, inspecting his hair. His usual routine of getting dressed was hastened by BB-8 bumping repeatedly against the door in his annoying but successful attempt to make Poe hurry up.

“Alright, alright! Let’s go,” he said nudging the little droid with the side of his foot to get past him. He stepped out and instantly collided with Karé.

“Sorry,” he grunted.

She just snorted, amused.

“Watch where you’re going, flyboy. I was just heading to get Avara.”

She strode over to room three and knocked. No reply.

“She’s probably already gone with the others. C’mon, we’re late.”

“Late? The second bell hasn’t gone yet." He blinked. "Has it?”

Karé rolled her eyes.

“I guess it rang while you were washing your precious hair.”

“Funny.”

They jogged towards the mess hall, BB-8 bumbling after them. The pilots were sitting at the usual corner table this time, along with a lot more people than usual.

Probably here because I’ll be off on a mission. Or, he thought, suddenly frowning, they’re here to meet Deccol. Word does travel fast in a small base like this. Who wouldn’t want to meet a Mandalorian?

Heads turned towards him as they walked through the rows of tables. Nods, waves and murmurs of ‘good luck’ and ‘be safe,’ followed him and Karé as they reached their table. A loud cheer rose from the pilots gathered as they spotted him, and he grinned, warmth exploding in his chest.

He was stuck in the swarm of about fifteen rowdy pilots for at least twenty minutes, all of them wanting to say farewell and wish him luck. Even BB-8 got a round of pats.

Iolo eventually came to the rescue, no doubt sent by Karé.

“Sorry guys, but this guy needs his big breakfast and his caf, or you know what he’s like during the day. We wouldn’t want to inflict grumpy-Poe on his new partner now, would we?”

After a smatter of laughter, a few more hair ruffles and back slaps, the group moved on, leaving the table to the usuals. Poe turned to Iolo.

“Since when am I grumpy?” asked Poe indignantly, as he tried to fix his hair.

“My friend,” said Iolo, mockingly wise, “Poe Dameron is thirty per cent recklessness, twenty-five stupidity and twenty cockiness.”

“You missed out twenty-five per cent.”

“That’s the grumpy part.”

Poe punched him as they sat down at the table.

Deccol was already there, tucking into her meal. She nodded in greeting, her mouth full. That’s when BB-8 decided to announce himself. He trilled loudly at her side and she turned to look down at him, confused.

“Avara, you don’t know binary, do you?” Jess asked.

Deccol shook her head. The astromech moaned, upset.

“Well, that’s BeeBee-Eight. He’s Poe’s son,” said Karé.

BB-8 moved to nudge his master’s leg affectionately as Poe rolled his eyes at Karé’s description.

“He’s my astromech droid,” he corrected. “The best one there is,” he added fondly.

“He’s the one coming with us, isn’t he?”

“Yep. You’ll learn how to talk to him in time, it’s not hard.”

“So,” began Snap, disrupting the conversation about BB, “How much about this mission can you tell us? When will you be back?”

Poe looked around at his friends, all leaning towards him, watching seriously, worry etched in their faces. His heart swelled in sudden affection for them. He sighed sadly.

“I don’t know. We have tasks to complete,” he said looking to Deccol, “and we don’t know how many. Leia just said they’re important.”

And dangerous.

He swallowed nervously.

“You’ll make it back. You always do,” assured Jess. Poe just nodded, his throat tight. Karé and Snap exchanged a worried look.

“Now eat! Don’t let us ruin your appetite.”

Poe smiled and ducked his head down to obey the command, his stomach loosening slightly.

Deccol had just observed the whole interaction without a word.

***

Poe was pacing his quarters, almost tearing his hair out.

“No, no! Beebs, it’s something else! Kriff… what am I forgetting?”

He was packing his carry-bag.

“You’d think this would be straight-forward,” he growled, kicking a box aside grumpily as he scanned the stuff thrown around his room.

I’m forgetting something so obvious I’m going to kick myself when I remember it.

“Clothes, toiletries, my jacket,” he began chanting, sticking out one finger with each. “Credits, my datapad, my hair stuff, my holster, my tools… What else?”

Everything he had listed out was already in his bag.

He and Deccol were due to leave in under half an hour. And he was still here, holed up in his quarters, fussing about what to pack, things strewn around in his haste to find what was needed.

A sharp knock sounded on the door. BB-8 darted towards it, bumping over Poe’s various belongings.

“No BeeBee, wait-” he cried, lunging for the droid.

BB opened the door before he could be stopped. To reveal Deccol. Kriff. Damnit, Bee. She was wearing more armour than she had previously.

“Dameron, are you-”

She took in Poe, stumbling over a discarded shirt in his haste to stop his little droid and instantly averted her gaze, looking pointedly away from him. It took him a second to realise why.

He leaned down and whipped his shirt up, the ring on the chain around his neck whacking against his forehead. He pulled the shirt over his head, pink dusting his cheeks. He thought he could detect a slight colour change on her face too.

“Uh, sorry. BeeBee is always a bit hasty when opening my door.”

“Yeah, I- uh- I heard through the door.”

Poe blushed more, fingers running through his hair as BB yipped gleefully. Poe glared at him.

“So I take it you’re not ready to go?”

“I will be,” he sighed. “I just hate packing. Nothing unusual.”

“I could help?” she offered.

He was about to give a snobby reply of ‘I don’t need your help to pack a bag, I'm not a child,’ when BB-8 hummed appreciatively before Poe could open his mouth. The droid stretched out his claw to grab Poe’s leather jacket on the floor, dragging it to Deccol's feet. She bent over to take it, smiling at his droid.

“I think you need this.”

Poe swiped it from her grasp and slipped it on, embarrassed.

“Well, what have you got packed so far?”

He listed it out reluctantly.

She frowned. “Aren’t you carrying any weapons?”

Poe Dameron, it’s time to kick yourself.

“Shit! That’s right!” He darted over to his closet, kneeling down to open the lowest drawer, pulling out his blaster pistol and a knife. “I mean we do get issued the standard rifles, but everyone prefers to carry their own weapons for missions.”

“Makes sense.”

Poe looked over his shoulder.

She was leaning against the door frame, watching BB-8 roll back and forth, desperately trying to sort Poe’s scattered belongings. She had a bemused smile on her face and Poe almost found the corners of his mouth beginning to lift at the sight of it, before mentally slapping himself.

Let’s not do that. You already look like an idiot, let's not make it worse.

He dumped his blaster and knife into his bag and buckled it shut, hoisting it over his shoulder.

“BeeBee, did you go scan those freighters at the end of the strip, like I asked you to? Did you find a good one?”

BB-8 chirped.

“We’re using a freighter? What model?”

“You familiar with the Ghtroc Seven-Twenty light freighter? I figured that would be suitable for us. The Resistance has a couple of old ones lying around so I sent BeeBee to scan the ship systems to make sure we took the best one.”

“That model does sound familiar. A small freighter should be good.”

They stepped outside, Poe taking a last glance at his room before locking the door. I’m gonna miss this place, he thought with a pang. I always miss the familiarity.

Deccol picked up a long, unusual looking rifle and slung the strap over her shoulder, before picking up a small bag and a helmet with the famous T-shaped visor that she tucked under her arm.

Poe took this chance to get a better look at the extra armour she had on. A cuirass, complete with a chest plate, pauldrons and backpiece, along with two thigh guards, one shin guard.

“Isn’t it a bit early to get all suited up?”

BB-8 whirred ahead of them, leading the way to their freighter enthusiastically.

“It’s easier to wear it than carry it.”

“That’s true I guess. It must be a hassle to wear so much all the time though.”

“At the start it was,” she countered, “but I’m used to it now.”

BB-8 was rolling back towards them beeping loudly, interrupting their semi-small talk. He looped around the partners before barrelling off in front again, still beeping.

Poe chuckled.

“According to Beebs, we need to hurry up.”

***

E/N: Next chapter kicks off a bit more! Their mission begins in Chapter 4.

#poe dameron #poe dameron fic #poe dameron x oc #poe dameron x original character #poe dameron x female oc #star wars #oscar isaac

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