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#sara's drabbles
komitomi · 11 months
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NSFW DRABBLE, MDNI! afab!reader x various genshin characters
♡ — fingering you until you coat their hands and fingers with your juices, pulling them out and licking your essence and groaning when the taste hits their tongue, 'so fucking yummy' they mutter before dipping their head down to eat your pussy like a starved person, lapping at your folds, nibbling on your clit, making you wince as you grip their hair tightly, they chuckle which causes vibrations to shoot up your body, it only took a few more minutes of them greedily devouring your cunt to make you cum once again, feeling overstimulated you push their head away, but they remain firm and continue licking away.
“We've only just begun, darling.”
Kaeya, Childe, Ayato, Abyss!Aether, Alhaitham, Tighnari, Raiden Ei, Yae miko, Sara, Lisa, Jean, Abyss!Lumine, Ningguang, Beidou.
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auroratumbles · 2 months
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if only that was me.
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the beautiful sound of your laugh seems to echo in their ears. it’s almost taunting. taunting in the way that you’re always close to them but not in the way they hope. you’re with someone else - someone who makes you far happier and the one that you love so dearly. they would never amount to that.
so they attempt to banish these unwelcome feelings, but they just return even stronger. when you ask them why they look so lugubrious around you, they dismiss it as just being a little bit of fatigue. you - skeptically - leave the matter alone, respecting their wishes to not talk about it. if only you knew.
lingering glances, fleeting touches. those are the only things that happen. and they should be satisfied, no? selfish envy remains in their mind (much to their dismay) and they can’t help but glare at the one who has unwittingly taken their chance.
if only that had been them.
abyss!lumine, abyss!aether, kaeya alberich, diluc raginvindr, kujou sara, kamisato ayaka, thoma, kaveh, xiao
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player1064 · 1 month
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Love your drabbles! I cannot stop reading and sharing them. I have another prompt if you are still taking them! It would be interesting to see Gaz defend his Jamie when he is invited as a special guest to that CBS show Jamie is on. Would love to see protective Gary against Kate Abdo with Big Meeks laughing in the background and Titi being torn between helping Kate or (rightfully) knowing when a battle is lost. Maybe a dib at Kate how being a host is easy money compared to being actual pundits & analysts
kinda obsessed w this prompt being sent like a day before Jamie ran his big mouth on live tv and got in trouble for it (though tbh he's ALWAYS running his big mouth and what he said abt kate not being loyal wasn't even up there with worst mistakes imo it's just the one that happened to go viral). but also YES I am obseeeeessed with the UCL Today gang's dynamic the banter.... the thinly veiled dislike between Jamie and Kate.... chefs kiss
Also, this ficlet can be considered part of the wife-gary saga and having said that I'm wondering if I should have that as a tag so the other prompt fills in that universe are easier to find......
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“Joining us in the studio today is one of the most decorated British footballers of all time, with over a hundred appearances in the Champions’ league and two titles to show for it, it’s Gary Neville. Gary, welcome to the show.”
Gary, who’d been grimacing awkwardly through Kate’s introduction, shakes his head around a bit and then gives her a smile. “Glad to be here, I –”
“—hold on, hold on,” Jamie interrupts, “can we go back to the ‘two titles’ thing for a second?”
“Yes, James, I have two Champions’ league medals,” Gary says, turning to look at Jamie with one unimpressed eyebrow raised. “As many as everyone else in this studio combined, I believe. What’s not clickin’, can you not count that high?”
To Jamie’s left, Micah doubles over with laughter, but Jamie just shakes his head, reaching a hand out to Gary’s chest, pushing him back in his seat. “No, no, Gary, why don’t you tell our audience how many games you played to earn that second medal, eh?”
Before Gary has a chance to defend himself, Kate primly says “about thirty more across his career than you did, Jamie,” which sets the whole table off laughing again while Jamie sits glaring in the middle of it all.
*
Jamie, as the lone Scouser in the cast and the only one not to have won a Premier league (besides Kate, obviously, but she doesn’t count), often feels ganged up on at CBS. And to have Gary on as a guest, even though he’d agreed to the idea (and quite enthusiastically, though don’t tell Gary that), feels like an extra kick in the shin.
Because not only is Gary, Mister Manchester United, getting obvious favouritism from lifelong United supporter Kate, he has the more crucial advantage that nobody in America knows who he is.
This means that Gary on CBS is not ‘below-average defender who only achieved what he did through obsessive hard work and sucking up to Fergie’, no, Gary on CBS is ‘best full-back of his generation, Manchester United and England legend, one of the top 10 most decorated British footballers of all time, and David fucking Beckham’s best mate.’
When you look at it like that, it’s a lot harder to find something to tease him about.
Jamie still manages, of course, he’s spent the past decade making a career out of insulting Gary Neville and he’s damn good at it. Over the course of the show he’s able to get in a few digs about his nose, his hair, his weight, his dress sense. But that’s all appearance stuff, which is easy – one look at Gary and the jokes basically write themselves.
What that says about Jamie, the idiot who went and married him, he’s not sure.
Everyone around the table is joking about Istanbul, which is easy enough to do if you weren’t there, which none of them were, and it’s enough to get Jamie’s blood boiling. He’s getting ready to launch into a rant about how it was one of the greatest games in footballing history when Kate cracks a line about how Jamie’s successes were all dumb luck, and Gary’s face scrunches up in displeasure.
“Oh, I’m – I’m not sure that’s fair, really,” he says quietly, glancing back at Jamie as he does. “Don’t get me wrong, that Liverpool team were nowhere near Champions’ league winner quality, I’m sure James would agree w’me on that –” Jamie, very reluctantly, nods. “—I mean, they finished fifth in the league that season, got knocked out of the FA cup their first game. There’s always a bit of luck to be fair, gettin’ to a Champions’ league final, but credit where it’s due – they were a scrappy little team, and that win was well deserved.”
On Gary’s right, Thierry nods in agreement, which is quite possibly the highest praise Jamie’s ever received from the man, and even Kate gives Jamie an awkward little smile once Gary’s done talking.
Under the desk, Jamie drops a hand to Gary’s knee and gives it an appreciative little squeeze.
*
As soon as the cameras are all off Jamie wastes no time in grabbing Gary by the wrist to pull him onto his lap, where he sort of half-perches half-hovers because he’s nervous about putting all his weight on Jamie’s knees (even though Jamie keeps telling him it’s fine).
Gary makes no complaints at being manhandled, just smiles fondly down at Jamie and pinches his cheek. “Look at you, you vain fuck. What I said were barely complimentary and it’s still got you all over me.”
Jamie ignores this (because they both know it’s true) and surges forward to kiss Gary instead, paying no mind to the others still in the vicinity of the desk while they get their earpieces and microphones unhooked. He hears a groan from Micah, and an exasperated sigh from Titi, but they can both go fuck themselves because Jamie’s horrible bastard of a husband willingly said something nice about Liverpool on live television, and if that’s not cause for celebration then he doesn’t know what is.
When Gary breaks the kiss with a pleased little hmph and gets up to wander over to the snack table, Jamie is left to face his colleagues, all three of them looking at him with faces twisted in an attempt to suppress their laughter.
“Man like Jamie,” Micah says gleefully, clapping his hands together. “I knew you was bringin’ the missus on for a reason, this is like foreplay for the two a’yous, innit?” As soon as he finishes the sentence, he shudders at his own words, then adds “oh, ew, that’s like thinking about your parents, don’t want to know any more.”
“I think you’re onto something there, Meeks,” Kate laughs, “and here I was thinking he’d brought him on to show off his trophy wife.”
Jamie wants to protest that he did not bring Gary onto the show, he’s not the one who made the suggestion and it’s definitely not showing off or foreplay or whatever else his colleagues can come up with, but then Kate’s nudging him in the side with a smirk and saying “Trophy wife, Jamie, get it? Because he has a lot more trophies than –”
Jamie stomps off to go find his stupid annoying and very very successful trophy wife before Kate is able to finish the thought and prompt him to say something he might regret.
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ramonaflow · 1 month
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Schitt's Creek Colour Themed Drabble Challenge - Ocean
@a-noble-dragon ❤️😘
They've been sitting here in silence too long. It's getting weird and David knows he needs to say goodnight.
They're sitting so far apart. There may as well be an ocean between them.
But then Patrick is leaning in, lips brushing softly against David's.
David pulls back, surprised at Patrick's boldness.
“Are you sure this is what you want?”
“Yes! I want this. I've wanted this.”
And who is David to deny that?
He places his hand gently on Patrick's cheek, pulling him close, kissing him a little more forcefully and wonders how he has survived so long without it.
On ao3
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vrachis · 7 months
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i got so bored i started writing for sara instead of kinktober fics, ugh.
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ilykaveh · 1 year
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ꨄ︎ . ⋆ SWEETER THAN A CAKE !
kujou sara.
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ABOUT: you agree to play into some of sara's darker fantasies. . .
CONTENT: sub fem reader, predator/prey dynamics, knives, mentions of murder and dismemberment, thigh riding, semi public, marking, mention of branding.
MINORS & NON-NBLW/WLW DO NOT INTERACT.
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you were fully aware that there were some darker fantasies that your girlfriend often contemplated, and tonight was one of those times where you offered to indulge her. she’d spent the last ten minutes chasing you around a desolate parking lot in the dead of night, without a soul to be seen within the structure. the echoes of her combat boots clacking against the rough ground made your heart beat faster. they grew louder; she was getting close. surely it would be okay if you hid behind this beam for a moment, just to catch your breath. what a dumb thing you were! before you knew it, sara had snuck up behind you. one hand held your head in place and the other pressed the cool blade of a pocket knife to your neck. 
“something wrong, bunny?” sara smirked, sending shivers down your spine. 
“please don’t hurt me,” you sobbed, fully playing into the scene. 
“aww, you look so cute with fear in your eyes.”
sara tilted the blade so that it was vertical, lightly pushing as she traced a line directly down your jugular. despite the fearful mewls that escaped your throat, you couldn’t calm the butterflies going haywire in your stomach. seeing sara with such a deranged expression cast a spell over you, and you quickly began to enjoy this situation even more than you had anticipated.
she didn’t stop until she approached the neckline of your shirt, watching your lust blown pupils and the way that you trembled. the knife was sharp enough to slice through the thin material of your shirt, exposing the cute bra that you’d bought specially for this occasion. you could tell that sara liked it by the little “fuck.” that fell from her lips. like clockwork, however, she fell back into her predatory character, falling silent as she ghosted her blade across your cleavage. if you didn’t know any better, you would be certain that she was fantasising about all of the possible ways that she could dissect your body. you wondered what she would leave behind, whether or not she would keep any part of you as a trophy, hidden away in a secretive nook of her apartment. would she take a lock of your hair? or perhaps remove your teeth? what about your fingernails? the recent manicure (that sara had treated you to) was rather pretty, so weirdly you hoped that that would be her answer. 
“whatcha thinking about, pretty girl?” she cooed as her knife ghosted over your clothed nipple. a pathetic whine sounded from you, paired with a rut of your hips against sara. she slipped a knee between your legs, harshly pressing it against your cunt as she got closer to your ear. with the point of her knife lightly perforating the skin an inch or so above your navel, she whispered, “that’s better. you don’t need to think, dumb bunny.”
“grind on my knee.”
when your brows furrowed and a confused expression painted your cheeks, you felt the knife press slightly deeper into your skin. sure, it wasn’t enough to leave a permanent mark, but it certainly stung for the time being. 
“put on a show for me, baby. prove to me that i shouldn’t just slit your throat right here and now. i think the dumpster around the back of the building would be a good spot to hide you. or maybe i’d cut you up into pieces, scatter you around the town.”
your strangled cries showed sara that you truly were enjoying this as much as she was, and you began to follow her commands. fortunately you’d opted for a skirt in order for sara to have easy access to you, so you could generate more friction as you rutted against her. she occupied herself with painting your neck in her marks, instantly diving for your sweet spot and sinking her teeth into your flesh. she retracted her knife from your stomach, allowing you to move your hips more freely. noticing that whenever she absentmindedly ran the blade over an inch of your exposed skin your movements gained speed, the woman began to do it more often.
the adrenaline that pumped through your veins, both from the scenario playing out and the fact that you were literally in a public parking lot, you found your orgasm creeping up on you more quickly than usual. sara could tell that you were slipping ever so slightly, and lessened her sadistic tendencies.
“wanna cum for me, baby? go ahead.”
she began detailing all the filthy things that she wanted to do to your fragile body; each sentence unrestrained and containing features that would strike fear into the hearts of most of the world’s population. you found yourself trembling even moreso, thankful that sara was supporting you because you were convinced that without it, you would be on the floor. you whined her name as you finally came, continuing to grind on her knee as you rode out her high. 
once she was convinced you were able to hold yourself up sufficiently, sara dropped to her knees before you. 
“dumb bunny, you didn’t think i was finished, did you? besides, i think your thigh would look much better with my initials carved into it.”
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letters4ransara · 3 months
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guys ransara playing horror games 😭😭 ranmaru probably acts like the tough bf tryna protect his gf but in the end its sara protecting ranmaru☠️
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enkvyu · 1 year
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heizou's table is a mess.
paper is scattered atop a wooden desk, its context written in unintelligible lettering, the words running off the page and onto another sheet all stained black. wax lumps litter the surface, evidence of sleepless nights hunched over a single dying flame. pens, pencils, crumpled scrolls and wrinkled books, nothing on his desk made sense for anyone other than himself.
and perhaps, the most incoherent thing about the desk was heizou himself.
"heizou," a voice breaks the still of his office and when the boy looked up, he finds himself in the presence of his colleague, kujou sara. "you've ignored another official request for your own personal schemes again."
her words are blunt, unsusceptible to protesting not that it mattered because heizou neither argued nor made light of the situation. instead, he met her gaze unflinchingly.
"so i have. and?"
"how long are you going to act like this?"
heizou's hand tightens around his pen, his jaw clenched. "how long are you going to come in here and lecture me?"
sara sighs, her head finding purchase in her hands. "you know i only mean well."
"enough. perhaps if you didn't find spare time to come here everyday, i would have already solved my personal scheme by now."
"heizou," sara starts again, only her voice is devoid of all emotion except pity. "the case has already been solved."
"not by me."
"there is no other evidence that could change the conclusion of the case. they're gone, heizou. it's time you accepted that."
the pen snaps in his hand and heizou finds himself breaking in two just like it, the entire world shattering into a million pieces. his chair falls with a loud crash, guards stationed outside shouting in alert at the noise, as his hands slam onto his desk.
papers fall to the ground, your smiling illustration beaming up at him as if in taunt.
"enough!" heizou yells again, but he can't hear his own voice. "that's enough, kujou sara. you've done enough. please leave."
but the general stands still, eyeing her friend in concern. and it is that exact expression that heizou distastes, the empty words and looking eyes, the "he's changed" and "i miss them too".
"i miss them too." she says and heizou's vision swarms and sways. "but they wouldn't have wanted you to suffer like this."
"you don't have the right to mourn them!" heizou explodes.
sara sets her jaw. "is this still because i closed the case?"
"you knew i was away. if you kept it open for longer, until i got back, i would have been able to find whoever did this to name. but you didn't."
"then what is the evidence you've gotten since then?" the general's words are spat out as if accompanied by a bad taste. "what are your new conclusions since then, the product of all your time away from the agency? face it, heizou. they're gone and their killer has escaped. it's been months since then, even if you did find the perpetrator, do you think anything would change? the case is dead, cold. and there's nothing you can do about it anymore."
"get out!" curling his fist in, heizou punches his desk, sending it flying past kujou sara into the wall next to the door.
papers fly everywhere, scribbles and leaking ink and torn pictures and highlighted news articles, hundreds and thousands of pictures of inazuma citizens, and even more images of you, you posing next to him on your first date, you running away from an angry oni, you against the backdrop of a settling sun, you and him, you and you and you and you and you and you and you and you and you
his fist breaks the ground beneath his feet, crumbling just like the world around him, this filthy unpure world that outcasted you so easily, so easily erasing every trace of your existence.
"heizou, cut it out!"
sara angles away from him, her bow clenched in her hand. around her, the guards stand with their own weapons in hand.
"are you going to shoot me, sara?" heizou asks without humour.
"you need to calm down."
"no, what i need to do is find name."
"name is dead!" sara snaps. "and if you keep acting like this, you'll end up that way too."
"i'll find evidence, i know i will. i always do."
"not this time, heizou. let name's death be not in vain."
"in vain?" heizou laughs, bitterly. "your fake report says they were caught in the crossfire of a robbery."
"yes," she says. 'live a good life, they would have wanted that, not this obsession over their death."
"you know something."
"heizou, i need you to calm down."
"what are you hiding?"
the guards look at each other in unease, weapons faltering. that was the opening heizou needed.
in the split moment that his attackers hesitated, heizou charged at them with a fist infused with anemo. they flew backwards, hitting the ground unforgivingly, all except for sara who leapt backwards.
narrowly avoiding the electro object in her wake, heizou grabs the leg of his desk and swings it upwards and at her.
sara's eyes fly open. she draws back her bow and aims at the table, splitting it in half, the parts falling to either side of her. when the dust settles, she finds herself staring at an empty room.
cursing under her breath, sara rushes to the open window.
but heizou was already gone.
noise behind her makes her turn, and her next words are directed into a command. "find heizou and arrest him." she orders, and the guards trickle out of the room with a salute, dedicated in their hunt.
when they leave, the general faces back to the window, peering out into the rolling landscape. somewhere, on this island, heizou was hiding. and unlike his lover, his ambition was not dead.
"don't make me kill you too."
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crincher · 5 months
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avalance drabble #256 quilt
“Umm… thanks, babe?” Ava sounds baffled.
“Remember how disappointed you were after we visited dad?”
Ava nods. Sara’s baby blanket turned out to be from Sink, Shower & Stuff – just as fabricated as Ava’s memories of Nana Sharpe’s prized family quilt.
“This one’s from Zari.” Sara points at one of the mismatched fabric pieces in the gift box. “And this from Gary, and I know we still have to stitch them all together…”
“Baby,” Ava murmurs, “Is this…” Her eyes grow teary as they flicker down to Sara’s bump.
“Everyone wanted to help keep our newest family member warm and safe.”
thanks to @radbren13 for the prompt
Find the rest of the drabbles here
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katlakitty · 6 months
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N7Month Challenge - Day 16: Storm
The ice cracked dangerously as the Tempest set down on Voeld, Sara held her breath as the entire ship shifted. Kallo's worried expression didn't reassure her that their landing spot was safe or stable enough for the small ship. Sara couldn't stay and find out if they needed to return to orbit, she had to find the resistance to help them.
She put on her suit and armor and joined the rest of her crew in the loading bay. None of them looked very eager to leave the ship. Jaal, as far as Sara could tell, was tense and Peebee was mumbling something about knitted scarfs and mittens.
Sara doubted they would have helped against the raging ice storm outside, but she made a mental note to get a scarf and mittens for her. If there was any wool in Andromeda she could even knot them herself, a matching set of a Remnant hat, scarf, mittens and socks. Lexi would be happy to find she had found something to occupy herself with during her downtime.
"Oh, fuck no..." Sara cursed as they set foot into the storm.
"Or a hot water bottle, is there a sauna on the Hyperion? That would be a-awesome." Peebee said and started shivering.
There were cold warnings popping up on the display of Sara's suit too and SAM urged her to hurry.
"The resistance headquarters on Voeld are just up this way," Jaal announced and gestured into the turmoil of snowflakes up ahead.
"Right," Sara was shivering now too. "Do they have a Sauna?"
"No, but they have heaters."
"B-better than... N-nothing." Peebee said and started jumping.
Sara agreed with her and they slowly made their way through the snow. She only slipped once and Jaal caught her before she could fall down a cliff. Up until this point Sara had loved the cold season on Earth and the snow. But she had never experienced a snow storm or temperatures like this before and was tempted to change her mind about it. They arrived at the Resistance outpost before she could declare her newfound dislike though.
You can find a collection of all my N7 Month drabbles on AO3.
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owl127 · 1 year
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The Three Cs (M)
Read on Ao3 (update on Clexa one-shots)
Every piece of clothing was gathered from the floor, the bed, and the desk. Books lined up on shelves; discarded cups had been brought to the kitchen; shoes rested where they belonged on the shoe rack; and all in all, Lexa had done a pretty good job cleaning her room.
She dropped her dirty piles of clothes at the laundry room and searched for the box of those flower-scented wipes her mom used to clean the floor, finding them in the cabinet on top of the dryer. She ran back up the stairs to her room with the wipes and air freshener, just in case.
"Okay, what the hell is going on here?" Anya, laundry basket on her hips, stopped by Lexa’s door, suspiciously scanning the room.
"What are you doing here?" Lexa asked from the floor, where she was making sure the light wood laminate was not smelling like last week’s noodles or Snickers’ playground.
"I came for the weekend. Kara drove me from campus. But focus: why are you cleaning your room? I didn’t know you did that."
"Ha-ha." Lexa trashed the used wipe and pulled out a clean one. "Kara’s in town, too? Don’t you guys have a game on Monday?"
"Home game; we’ll be back on Sunday." Anya changed sides as she balanced her laundry basket, her frown in place. "Lexa, for real, why are you cleaning your room?"
Heat flushed on Lexa’s cheek, and she ignored her sister to wipe the floor at the side of her bed, finding a forgotten shoe in the process.
"Oh my God," Anya exhaled in a laugh, and Lexa cursed under her breath. "You have someone coming over!"
Lexa shushed her, pulling her sister inside her room by her arm and closing the door behind her, eyeing the hallway as she did so. "Can you keep it down?"
"Mom and dad are working; you thought you had the house for yourself... Lexa Woods!" Anya slapped the side of her sister’s arm, the stinging slap making Lexa blush even further.
"It’s not like that." Lexa wriggled with the wipe in her hands.
"Who is it?" Laundry basket forgotten on the floor, Anya pushed Lexa to sit on the bed and followed, the mattress bouncing when she sat down. "Anyone from senior year? You’ll be in college in a few months, so you’re partying now?"
"It’s not like that," Lexa repeated, discarding the wipe in her hand. She ran a hand over her hair, blowing out a long breath. "It’s kind of new, and I don’t want to jinx it."
Anya considered her sister, looking her up and down. Lexa worried her lips, her eyes fixing on anything but the searching look on Anya’s face.
"It’s Clarke," Lexa blurted out, and Anya’s eyes widened.
"Oh my God, that’s so cute; you guys are like childhood sweethearts!" She smiled down at Lexa, too sweet to be genuine.
"I’m serious, Anya, and you can’t tell Kara."
All jokes dropped from Anya’s expression. "Oh no, Kara ." Realization hit, and Anya held both of Lexa’s hands, squeezing them tightly. "You can’t screw this up, Lexa. I just made varsity; you really can’t screw this up." 
Lexa swallowed dryly at the thought of the very athletic, very protective alpha, who was no one else but Clarke’s older sister.
"Oh no." Anya closed her eyes. "You guys are not fucking, are you?"
"Jesus, Anya," Lexa whispered, eyes on the door. "No! Not yet. I mean, we made out a couple times, but..."
"You can’t screw this up, Lexa. I’m serious." Anya used her older sister's voice, which, granted, used to work better when Lexa was younger.
"Don’t you have somewhere else to be?"
"I’m going for dinner with Kara, yeah." Anya stood up, picking up her laundry basket. "Don’t worry, I won’t tell her that my baby sister is tonguing her baby sister."
"Thank you." Lexa’s tight smile dripped with irony.
Anya made it to the door, but stopped and looked back over her shoulders. "Has dad talked to you about the three Cs?"
Lexa’s entire face heated up in embarrassment. "Yep. Now go!" Lexa stood up and started pushing her sister outside her room, kicking the door open.
"Mom is going to get really pissed if you stain the covers."
"We’re not going to have sex!"
"Don’t forget the three Cs!"
Anya’s laugh filled the hallway as Lexa shut the door. One glance at her watch showed she still had twenty minutes before Clarke arrived. Knowing Clarke, they would end up doing some actual studying, but after making out behind the gym and in the omegas’ locker room last week, Lexa was hopeful they would get some action whenever the omega would allow a break.
Soon enough, Lexa heard Anya leaving the house, her obnoxiously loud keychain echoing in the living room. Sooner than she hoped to be prepared, she got a text from Clarke, who biked there from her house a few blocks down.
They should be studying. Senior year was almost over, and they indeed had an essay to finish by Monday.
But how can an eighteen-year-old study when their crush for a good part of a decade sat on their bed and looked up with shy blue eyes? Lexa honestly tried to keep their study session going, but how could she when Clarke was smiling like that?
"We should finish this paragraph before..." Clarke’s voice trailed off, lost in a sigh, as Lexa kissed her cheek.
"We have the entire weekend to work on that," Lexa said, her smirk in place when Clarke took a deep breath but didn’t pull her away. "C’mon, Clarke, we’ve been at this for almost two hours now."
"One hour and a quarter, which does not qualify as almost—" Her breath caught in her throat as Lexa went for another kiss, this one on the sensitive skin right under her ear. "Lexa," the omega pleaded, her eyes darting to the door, hands in a tight grip on her book.
"My parents are not home, and Anya is out for dinner with Kara," Lexa explained, her mouth working on Clarke’s neck as she turned to offer more skin. Lexa moved her full, dark blonde hair from her neck to explore it thoroughly.
"Kara was babbling about some special pizza." Clarke closed her eyes, her book hitting the floor when she moved to give Lexa more room.
"Which means they will stay there for a while and we have the house for ourselves," Lexa whispered against the reddening skin and placed one hand under Clarke’s chin, gently pulling her for a kiss.
"Did you plan this?" Clarke asked when they parted after a quick, sweet kiss.
"To the detail," Lexa confessed, leaning for another kiss that lasted longer.
Lexa enjoyed this. She enjoyed the feel and touch of Clarke’s body and the heat that emanated from every inch of her. The way Clarke’s hands would tangle in her hair, asking for more without words. They had done this a few times before—and the kiss when they were ten did not count—and each time Lexa pushed a little further, just a little.
Or a bit more than a little, as Clarke exhaled once her back hit the mattress, and Lexa snuggled between her legs as if that was the natural order of things.
"This okay?" Lexa asked after wiping her mouth on her hoodie sleeve; she had never kissed someone as much and as deeply as she had Clarke, and she loved every minute of it.
"Yeah," Clarke breathed, pulling her down by the hoodie’s strings, their teeth clashing in a deep kiss.
Lexa wasn’t sure who started it, but soon their legs were tangled in a push and pull that got her blood going south. Clarke’s hips lifted from the bed at every breath, meeting Lexa’s growing erection through both of their pants. It was messy, uncoordinated, and fun, and Lexa did not want it to stop.
However, focusing on both the kissing and this new hip-moving-clashing-humping was proving to be a challenge, so Lexa latched her mouth on the base of Clarke’s neck and focused her energy on dragging her proud hard-on right where she hoped Clarke wanted it.
Clarke��s legs spread wider at the welcomed touch, the omega exhaling loudly against Lexa’s hair. The hands on Lexa’s back dug their fingers into the covered muscle there, just enough to show appreciation, and Lexa sped up her tumbling hips.
Gosh , she was hard. Could people come from this? Was that a thing? Clarke responded to each move with a thrust of her own hips, so she must be into it too. The feeling of warm pressure on her core, the friction of her jeans against Clarke’s, how hot it was where their bodies touched. Clarke’s scent, heady and ripe, was sliding its way through Lexa’s mind until all she could think was Clarke, and all she could do was Clarke and—
Warm, clumsy hands pulled Lexa from her spot on Clarke’s neck so their lips could meet in a kiss that was all at once reinvigorated, desperate, and searching. Lexa moaned into Clarke’s mouth, letting herself be guided into the kiss as her hands gripped on Clarke’s jeans, pulling her closer, closer, desperately closer, so Lexa could figure out why Clarke’s legs were so deliciously warm.
And that was the moment her phone decided to buzz with a shrill cry of a call, Anya’s special ringtone filling her room.
They shared a breath, panting, gray-green eyes blown in clear arousal as Clarke’s steel blue was light and attentive.
"Do you need to get that?" Clarke’s voice was high, and it broke halfway, forcing her to clear her throat.
The phone stopped ringing and started again, insistently.
"It’s Anya," she said, rolling off the warmest spot she had been in her life and pulling her hoodie down to cover her obvious erection. She reached for the phone and watched Clarke’s eyes zero in on her pants before widening and searching for anything else in the room. "What?" Lexa hissed into the phone.
"Lexa, my darling sister," Anya started.
"Anya, now it’s not the best—"
"Just calling to let you know Kara is giving me a ride home and we’re bringing leftovers! And we’ll be there in, like, two minutes. "
Lexa had to give it to her: Anya had her moments as a good sister.
Like now.
Clarke jumped from the bed first, adjusting her shirt and combing her hair with her fingers.
"Guess you heard that," Lexa said mostly to herself, throwing the phone on the crumpled bed. "You okay?" Lexa stood up, stopping Clarke’s fingers with her own to kiss her knuckles gently. "With what we did, I mean." Lexa’s eyes searched Clarke’s face, watching the red mark on her neck, her kiss-swollen lips, and the way her breath hadn’t gone back to normal. The young alpha gulped.
"Yes," Clarke said shyly, leaning down to kiss her blushing alpha. "You know I’m okay with exploring things with you. I haven’t done a lot, but—"
"Me neither," Lexa blurted, her hands gripping Clarke’s harder. Clarke laughed, the tension between them dissipating into a comfortable warmth.
"I’m okay with figuring things out with you," the omega confessed, her thumb caressing Lexa’s palm.
Whatever Lexa was going to say got lost in a groan at the sound of the front door opening. The familiar booming of Kara’s laughter, followed by Snickers' barks, reached all the way upstairs.
"Are you okay with..." Clarke’s blush deepened as she pointed to Lexa’s pants, still painfully tented.
"Oh." Lexa looked down at herself and coughed, scratching the back of her neck. "The fear I feel for your sister’s lacrosse stick hitting my head is doing wonders to cool me off."
"Okay." Clarke didn’t correct Lexa, which made the alpha gulp.
She could indeed picture Kara in her full lacrosse gear, face painted for war, ready to destroy Lexa’s face. Or at least her nose; Kara has done that to many girls in her years playing in high school and college. The girl was unstoppable.
"Lexa?" Clarke’s tone was concerned, and Lexa shook her head at the image of Kara basking in her blood. "You okay?"
"Yeah, good." She looked down; her problem was not so visible anymore. "See? Already working. Let’s go down."
They found Anya in the kitchen putting the pizza box on the counter, and Kara spread on the kitchen floor, giving Snickers, the Woods’ beagle mix, belly rubs. Or Snickers giving Kara belly rubs; one of the two was happening.
"Hey, guys." Lexa aimed for casual, reaching for a pizza slice, while Clarke blushed, kneeling down to caress the dog too. "How was dinner?" She asked while perching on the stool next to the counter.
"Pretty good. How was your dinner?" Anya, that little shit.
"Dinner was awesome!" Kara spoke from the floor, lifting the beagle in her arms as she stood. "Murphy gave us an extra pizza as good luck for the next game!"
"Which I insisted we should share." Anya pointed to the slice on Lexa’s hand.
"Can I put these in the car? It wasn’t fun biking here with four books," Clarke asked, and Kara threw her the keys without looking. Clarke opened the front door, and Snickers jumped from Kara’s lap, running for the door as if his life depended on it.
"I got him!" Anya said to anyone in particular, running after the always-excited beagle.
"Sorry!" Clarke yelled from the door but continued to the car parked in front of the suburban house.
Without Snickers elaborate breath, the kitchen was quiet. Kara, tall, blonde, and poised as all Griffins were, hummed low in her throat and drummed her fingers on the counter.
Without knowing why, Lexa started to sweat.
"How’s the scholarship program going? Think you’ll make the team?"
Lexa nodded, taking another bite from her slice. "Yeah, Coach thinks I can make it."
They heard the triumphant yelp from Anya outside and Snickers’ disappointed whine.
"Lexa, I need to tell you something." Kara fidgeted with her glasses, blue eyes moving from the ajar front door and Lexa.
Lexa swallowed her pizza, familiar steal-blue eyes zeroing in on her. Lexa’s hair in the back of her neck stood on end at the dominant alpha scent that spiked from Kara.
"If you hurt Clarke, or touch her the wrong way, or say something that makes her cry, or basically if you fuck things up with her," Kara said each word without blinking, taking a step closer to Lexa, who just stood there, pizza slice in hand, mouth open. "I will break your legs." Kara punctuated her sentence with a light touch on each of Lexa’s knees.
"Got him!" Anya announced from the living room, carrying Snickers while he licked her face. 
"Awesome!" Kara’s tone was suddenly light again, and she walked to the living room to side hug Anya and pat Snickers’ head one last time. "I’ll text you on Sunday," she said before closing the front door.
Anya washed her hands in the kitchen sink, sitting on the opposite stool from Lexa.
"Okay, spill, what happened? You look like you saw a ghost." Anya dried her hands with the towel on the counter, then went for a pizza slice.
Lexa, still a bit frozen, blinked a few times to process what had just happened. "Kara said she would break my legs if I hurt Clarke."
Anya shrugged, biting a large piece from her slice. "I think she could actually do that," she said with her mouth full.
"Anya! You’re supposed to defend me!"
"Okay, I wouldn’t let her break both of your legs."
Lexa groaned and put her head down, her forehead hitting the cold counter. "That answers if she knows."
"You did notice that Clarke has a hickey, right?"
"What!" Lexa pulled her head back, eyes wide. "Really?"
"What did you think was going to happen when you sucked her neck?"
Groaning again, Lexa’s forehead hit the counter once more.
"So, are you dating?"
"We haven’t talked about it," came Lexa’s muffled reply, her face against the cool marble.
"So you have time to suck her neck but not to make her a proper girlfriend? Lexa."
Lexa groaned at the slight admonishment.
"The Griffins are close to our family, to Daddy." You can’t just fool around with Clarke and treat her like any girl."
Lexa mumbled something against the counter.
"What was that?" Anya tapped the counter next to her sister’s head. "Speak up."
"I want to date her!" Lexa lifted her head, her loud yell echoing in the kitchen. "I want to date her!"
"Jeez, I heard it the first time." Anya grabbed another pizza slice, ignoring the fact she just came back from dinner like any young alpha. "Why don't you just ask her?"
"It’s not that simple."
"You’re making it complicated. The poor girl let you, of all people, kiss her, so she will probably agree with having you hanging around like a keychain."
Murder dropped from Lexa’s eyes as she glared at Anya. "Our height difference is not that much."
"Sure champ. So, you guys are having sex or..."
"No, I told you." Lexa rolled her eyes. "We’re still figuring things out."
"But if that happens, you know what to do and stuff?"
Lexa lifted her head to find Anya’s eyes fixed on her nails and the faintest of blushes on her high cheekbones. Lexa squinted at her sister.
"Look, I’m just making sure you’re prepared, okay?" Anya rolled her eyes, one hand pulling her hair to the side. "Do you have condoms? Do you know how to put it on and all?"
Lexa’s ear felt warmer, and she shook her head. "I don’t have any, but I suppose putting it on is not that much of a mystery."
"It’s not, but watch a YouTube video or something to be sure. C’mon, let’s get you something so you can be ready if anything happens." There was a small smile on Anya’s lips, a rarity when it was directed towards Lexa lately. With both sisters being alphas, they usually ended up in arguments and fights wherever Anya visited.
"What did you do tonight?" As they headed upstairs to Anya’s room, the teasing came back to her voice. "You looked like you had a little fun."
"Anya!"
"Hey, I’m helping you out here!"
"I know. Thanks."
"So, second base?"
"Anya!"
0000
Lexa wasn’t sure how things escalated.
Or maybe she knew exactly how it happened but didn’t want to complain. She would never complain as long as Clarke’s tongue continued to do that almost ticklish but nonetheless arousing swirl right under her jaw that made her knees buckle.
She came to the Griffins to study, and they were indeed doing that in the living room—Abby was home and Lexa did not plan on making any moves with Clarke’s sire so close—but Clarke said she needed to get a book from her room, and Lexa followed because, well, what if she needed help carrying a single book , and hey, here they were, making out next to Clarke’s overflowing bookshelf, her room door unlocked on a Thursday night.
Lexa bit her lower lip to hold a whimper as Clarke’s tongue continued to explore the delicate, oh-so-thin skin of her neck. She was hard, her hands gripping Clarke’s waist to press her closer, the omega purring softly at the consistent contact.
It was too much; it was not enough. Lexa wanted more.
The first warning came when Coffee, the family cat, rudely strolled into the room and pawed at Clarke’s legs as if watching her human with her tongue on someone else’s throat was ordinary. The low meow came, and Lexa looked down to watch the black cat paw at Clarke’s shins.
"Not now, Coffee," Clarke whispered, but she didn’t move to push the cat from her leg. She took a step away from Lexa, picking up the fluffy feline, much to Lexa’s protest. "Did mom forget to give you dinner?" Clarke held the cat from under its armpits, his tail sneaking on her arm in a sign of affection. She gracelessly put Coffee in Lexa’s hands, who just held him from behind, his yellow eyes focused on Clarke.
"Why do you always do that?" Lexa complained, keeping the cat at arm’s length. "You know I’m a dog person."
"He likes you." As if to agree with Clarke, Coffee meowed in Lexa’s arms, wriggling his butt to make his opinion known.
It turned out Coffee was a godsend, a beacon of light in the dark, because the next thing Lexa knew, Abigail Griffin herself was opening the door, reading glasses on, holding a purple pamphlet.
"Clarke, is Kara’s next game an away game or..." The older alpha stopped on her tracks, moving down her reading glasses to see Clarke, blushing a beautiful shade of plump, next to Lexa, who held Coffee—the little hero—in front of her, covering any possible signs of what they were doing before.
Coffee meowned.
"Lexa, hi. I thought you were downstairs," Abby said, a small smile in place as Lexa felt her ears warm.
"Yeah, we just came up to get a book," Clarke explained, her eyes going around the room to land on the discarded book at her desk.
Abby hummed, unimpressed, and used her feet to open the door completely. "Doors always open when you have visitors, honey," she said, and Lexa knew what it meant and what she had figured out. Lexa might be in trouble.
"Yes!" Clarke replied, her cheeks an oh-so-lovely pink.
Abby looked them in the eyes, Lexa gulping and Clarke sweating, and walked the few steps inside to open Clarke’s bedroom window.
Lexa was mortified.
Coffee meowed again, and Lexa could swear the cat was smugly enjoying her torture. His tail flicked happily, and he licked one of her fingers.
Clearing her throat, Abby left the room.
"I’m dead," Lexa said once they were alone. She finally freed Coffee on the floor, and the cat wasted no time walking a slow figure eight around her legs.
"It’s not that bad; I’m eighteen," Clarke argued, but they both knew it was indeed bad.
"We need to tell them." Lexa sat on Clarke’s desk, her legs shaking. "We need to tell our families that we’re dating."
"Wouldn’t it make it official?"
Lexa’s eyebrows knitted in confusion. "You don’t want it to be official?"
"No, no, it’s not like that." Clarke moved next to her, one hand on Lexa’s shoulder. With Lexa sitting down, she towered over the alpha. "You know this is important to me."
"So why not tell? Kara knows. Your mom probably has an idea." Lexa waved her hand at the open window. Abby must have scented them. RIP Lexa. 
"She barely saw anything."
"I had to use Coffee to cover my—" she pointed to her pants. "I’m so sorry, Coffee," she apologized to the cat, who meowed at the sound of his name.
"Okay, first, don’t you ever do that to Coffee again. He’s innocent." Clarke leaned down to scratch in between the cat’s ears. "Second, I just don’t want everyone to know about our business."
"We don’t need to make an announcement or anything... We can just be honest. I don’t think they will make a big deal out of it."
Clarke took a deep breath, tucking some of Lexa’s curls behind her ear. "Okay. I’ll talk to mom and dad."
"Anya knows too."
"I hope you’re right about them not making a big deal."
Lexa hoped so too. But after they finally finished working on their assignment and Lexa was all packed up and ready to walk back home, Abby offered to drive her with the cheap excuse that she needed to talk to Gustus about something at work.
And that was how Lexa found herself next to Detective Abigail Griffin, walking to her own house's front door as the older alpha did not say a single word on the short drive. Lexa had a worrisome idea that she was about to make a big deal of it.
Abby was polite, made some small talk to Gustus and Indra, and asked Gustus to follow her back to the car. Lexa sneaked to the window, watching her dad nod his head as Abby talked to him. Her dad’s expression was light until it wasn’t, and he frowned deeply and looked at the window, his eyes catching Lexa’s. Lexa ducked. 
"What are you doing?"
"Jesus Christ!" Lexa yelled at the voice right behind her ear, completely falling to the floor. "Are you insane, Anya? What are you even doing here?"
"I don’t have classes tomorrow," Anya said as if it explained everything. "Why are we spying on dad? And why is Abby here?"
Lexa, from the floor, her cheeks burning, saw the moment the pieces fell together in Anya’s mind, her brown eyes lighting with excitement.
Too excited for someone whose sibling might soon die.
"Oh…" Anya’s lips froze in a comic ‘o’ shape as she prolonged the single syllable. "Did Abby catch you guys? You’re in so much trouble."
"Anya, please—"
"Lexa." Gustus’ tone was not one for games. "A word in the study, please?"
Anya had a megawatt smile as the door closed behind Lexa.
Gustus’ face remained impassive, not giving away his emotions. "Help me clean the knives." It wasn’t much of a question than a request, and Lexa nodded. She usually enjoyed helping her father clean his weapon collection, but as Detective Gustus Woods lined his knives on his desk and Lexa watched, she felt she was in trouble.
"You know Abby and I were partners for a long time, right?" he started, eyes on his knives and the cleaning cloth as Lexa pulled out the oil to hydrate the wooden handles. "I’ve had her back, and she had mine, and we’re still like this today. We were there for each other’s weddings. Anya’s first toy was a gift from the Griffins," he continued, focused on the task at hand and not meeting Lexa’s eyes.
"When Kara was born, we made a pact that only intensified after Anya. If anything happened to me, Abby would help your mom and take care of my girls as if they were her own." He finally looked up, his dark eyes unreadable as he met his daughter’s stare. "And I would do the same thing for Jake and her girls. Do you know what that means?"
Was that a rhetorical question? Should Lexa actually try to answer that?
"It means." Gustus saved her from the mental dilemma. "It means that I love Abby’s kids just as much as my own. Which makes it very hard to hear from her that you and Clarke have been sneaking around."
"Dad…"
"Let me finish." Gustus used the oiled cloth to polish one of his knives, a hunting knife made of red cedar and deadly sharp. "I didn’t raise you to sneak around unmated omega’s bedrooms. But especially not Clarke’s, Lexa."
"We’re dating," Lexa blurted out, hands on the desk, eyes wide. That made Gustus stop and raise an eyebrow at his youngest.
"Are you and Clarke dating?"
"Yes. It’s a bit new," she explained, heat rising to her cheeks. She did not want to upset her dad, as he held a deadly weapon.
"Does Abby know?"
"Clarke said she would tell them."
Gustus hummed, his eyes on his knife again. "And are you being intimate with her?"
"Dad!" Lexa placed her head on the desk, a habit she never quite grew out of whenever shame lit up her face.
"I just told you Clarke is an important girl, Lexa. Do you remember the three Cs?"
"Yes, I do, but we’re not there yet," she mumbled against the desk.
"Do you have condoms?"
Lexa lifted her head at that, her blush somewhat under control. "Anya gave me some."
"Traitor!" came Anya’s voice from outside the office, and Gustus laughed quietly.
"Get inside and close the door, Anya."
The oldest Woods did as her father requested, widening her eyes at Lexa, who simply shrugged.
"So you both have condoms," Gustus said as both his daughters sat opposite him in his office.
"Yes, daddy."
"Yes, dad."
"Anya, are you getting STD tests done after every partner?"
Anya blushed so deeply. Lexa could see freckles that usually just came out in the summer. "Yes, they have a clinic on campus."
"Good. And you"—he looked at Lexa, eyes squinting, lips lopsided—"are ‘not there yet' but are prepared nonetheless."
Lexa nodded. She just wanted to disappear and get this over with. At Anya’s expression, she suspected her sister shared the thought.
"And you both remember the three Cs?"
"Consent, caress, and condom," they repeated together, somewhat lamely, but it pulled a smile from Gustus nonetheless.
"Good. Now get out of here; you two are growing up too fast." Gustus dismissed them, and Lexa was the first to bolt to the stairs.
"Hey!" she called for Anya before she could shut the door to her room. "Have you had many partners?"
Anya shook her head. "Not really. Two." 
"Did you date any of them?"
"I would’ve told you if I had."
Lexa nodded, her hands behind her back. "Thanks for the help downstairs. I don’t think I would have survived another talk about the three Cs by myself."
"He’s right, you know. Clarke’s important."
Lexa’s cheek felt hot all over again. "Yeah. I know."
Once in bed, she texted Clarke.
Your mom told my dad, and I had an impromptu sex talk with dad and Anya.
Clarke’s response came a couple minutes later.
My dad only stopped crying after I told him I was a virgin. Apparently he’s emotional about his "baby growing up too fast."
My dad made sure I had condoms.
Lexa just realized her mistake after the message was sent.
Oh. I guess these talks are easier for alphas. Dad wants me to get birth control. Mom is not a fan.
Taking a deep breath, Lexa felt a rush of blood in her pants. The idea of Clarke taking birth control because of her because one day they would have sex—wow, it was a bit too much. And also not enough.
At least Kara wasn’t there.
I might have told her. Sorry! I needed help on how to talk to mom and dad. 
She will kill me if I make the team.
Anya will protect you.
No. Anya will team up with her to beat me!
That’s actually very possible. But don’t worry. I’ll be there to give you band-aids.
And kisses to make me feel better?
Yeah. Lots of kisses.
A heart emoji followed the text for good measure, and Lexa’s heart accelerated, fluttering happily in her chest.
Her phone buzzed again, and her smile faltered when she saw it was Anya’s text.
Kara just told me you molested their cat.
Lexa rolled her eyes, replying to Anya's text with a selfie showing her middle finger.
Her phone lit up, and she saw Clarke’s message. 
Apparently, you’re my girlfriend now.
I’m okay with that.
Good night, then, girlfriend.
Good night. Girlfriend. 
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player1064 · 3 months
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Carraville drabble idea, if you like! Present day. Gary has a really tough day, Salford and United lose, maybe he's got personal issues with his marriage, or maybe he's divorced and outed by the press or something. It's suppossed to be his birthday weekend or something but he has a totally shit day(s). Jamie notices and give him a little present or something and it's like the brightest little spot of sunshine in Gary's day. Either pre-Carraville or they are already carrying on. (NO PRESSURE just had this little plot bunny hopping around in my head!)
ASTONISHINGLY I've finally managed to write an actual short drabble length drabble rather than a full on 1k+ word fic.... love love love the idea of Jamie being in tune with Gary's moods and trying to cheer him up he WOULD do that. he'd probably do a terrible job at it but he Would try....
---
There’s a knock at Gary’s hotel room door, to which he responds by pulling a pillow over his head and ignoring it.
Except then there’s another knock, and another, and Gary is left with no choice but to call out “leave me alone, Carragher,” because there’s no-one else it could feasibly be.
Naturally, Jamie doesn’t listen, and the knocks continue. He starts drumming out annoying little patterns, until eventually Gary is forced to get up off the bed and stomp over to the door, pulling it open with a glare.
“Jesus, took you long enough,” greets Jamie with a grin. “Was worried the food were gonna get cold.”
Gary squints at him. “What food?”
“The food I text you about an hour ago,” says Jamie, holding up a large paper bag. “Got us a cheeky nandos. You gonna let us in, then, or will I have to eat out here in the hall?”
“Y’could fuck off to your own room,” Gary grumbles, but he steps back to let Jamie in. “Sorry I didn’t see your text. Turned my phone off, for obvious reasons.”
Jamie goes straight for the bed and immediately makes himself comfortable, sitting up against the headboard without even bothering to take his shoes off. He turns on the TV for background noise and starts unpacking the bag, putting the little boxes into two piles.
“You’re so dramatic, Gary, honestly,” he says absent-mindedly, “nobody cares if your shit teams lost their fixtures, there’s still months left in season.”
“’Cause you’ll be such a delight when your lot lose the league cup tomorrow, won’t you?” Gary replies, but he reluctantly goes to sit down on the other side of the bed.
“Oh fuck off, I’m always a delight.”
They sit and eat their food in a semi-comfortable silence, interrupted occasionally by Jamie talking at whatever rubbish is on the TV (usually with his mouth full). His dirty shoes stay resting up on the clean white sheets, and Gary almost forgets to care. He also almost forgets that he was meant to be moping.
Almost.
“You don’t need to coddle me, y’know,” he says quietly, staring down at a spot on the duvet rather than trying to face Jamie. “I mean, obviously thank you for the food, but I don’t – you’re right, ‘s not the end of the world that both my shit teams lost.”
“I know,” Jamie says, reaching out to lightly bump Gary’s knee with his fist. “I were gonna do this anyway, I’ve been craving a nandos all week. An’ I always find it weird, when we’re in the same hotel but don’t talk to each other ‘til work the next day. United losing earlier is just an unexpected bonus, like.”
 “Ha,” Gary says flatly, but manages to will himself to look back up at Jamie.
Jamie’s got his lips pursed, watching Gary carefully. When Gary meets his eyes, though, his whole face splits into a beaming smile. “Well, lad, since y’don’t need me to coddle you, I s’pose you won’t be wanting the dairy milk I bought, will you?”
There’s something a bit warm and buzzy building up in his chest. He does what he always does when that happens, and ignores it.
“Gimme it,” he says, reaching across to try grab the chocolate out of Jamie’s hands. “Not like you’re gonna eat it, are you, you vain fuck.”
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ramonaflow · 1 month
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Schitt's Creek Colour Themed Drabble Challenge - Denim
Honestly this was not good. David's thoughts about Patrick were getting increasingly out of hand. But holy shit, that ass. He can't stop staring at him. “What?” Patrick catches him looking, cheeks turning pink. “So, what's all this then?” “What do you mean?” “This look you're going for!” “I had a haircut David!” “Okay you know that's not what I'm talking about.” “Aw David. Don't you like my jeans? They cost me $35!” “Double denim's never a good look, Patrick.” But it is. Somehow on Patrick it is. “Sorry David. This must be so hard for you.” He's not wrong.
On ao3
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flyingwargle · 7 months
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whumptober day 21: "don't move." / heikazu
it isn’t uncommon for a maple leaf to drift through the streets of inazuma city like a spark of hope in flurry of sakura petals. crimson like the setting sun, the maple leaf guides the innocent and falsely accused from corner to corner, alleyway to alleyway, until they reach freedom.
kazuha is not a city dweller. he was born in a small village, sheltered in his family’s estate, and followed lesser known trails after his prestige expired. were it not for the current situation, he would remain an occasional visitor, privy to izakaya restaurants for sake and poetry, rather than a shadow that lurked in the hidden depths, in defiance of the vision hunt decree.
“this way.” he knows every twist and turn, how each store organizes their garbage for disposal, which lamps are broken to create blind spots. behind him, a defected doushin and escaped pyro vision user falls into place, the doushin clutching his side. their escape ended in a fight – not ideal, but not impossible, either.
anemo is at their beck and call. he sweeps fallen petals to redirect any passerby’s attention, uses it to muffle their footsteps, creates illusions and other red herrings. the doushin, alerted of their jail break, fall for every misdirection. they move closer and closer to their goal.
“we’ll take the ramp.” the stairs are too conspicuous. with the ramp, he can extinguish the lanterns; it’ll prove they came here, but by the time the doushin notice, the escapees will be rowing to safety, and he’ll be resting at the rendezvous point.
crouched low, they dart from one stack of supply crates to the next. their path cloaked in darkness, but he gauges their distance from the edge with his vision. as it glows with power, he grips it in his hand, comforted by its soft hue, yet terrified that it’ll be their downfall.
he looks over his shoulder, aware of his company’s heavy breaths. “do we need to stop and rest?”
the wind shifts at their insistent shaking heads. “we can rest once we’re safe,” the doushin says. “we can’t risk you, as well, kazuha-dono.”
“no need for honorifics. i’m all but kazuha, now.” he pulls forward.
they reach hanamizaka. kazuha lets out a soft breath. with the clouded moon and breeze by their side, it’s a straightforward route to the shore, where a flipped rowboat, disguised as a shipwreck, awaits. he prepares it while the escapees catch their breath. they’ll need the strength to row to safety.
“when you arrive at watatsumi island, tell them the passcode. they’ll care for you there.” the shrine has close contact with a mercenary ship from liyue, who has graciously offered to ferry refugees through the thunderstorm to safety. some decide not to flee and fight with the resistance; some put their families first and flee, biding their time until they can return home.
kazuha pushes the boat into the water. he gives a small wave and smile as they thank him, say farewell, and wish him luck. he reciprocates, and prays to the wind. may the gods protect you, as they will protect me.
not a minute after the boat leaves, he feels something blunt and metallic touch his head. “don’t move.”
he keeps his arms by his side, watches the waves ripple as the oars row the boat forward. the silence stretches between them. when he speaks, his words are faint with breathlessness. “do all doushin enjoy late night strolls by the water?”
“you’re one to talk. here to find your muse?”
“yes. in fact, the water has inspired a haiku. would you care to hear it?”
“feel free.”
“’moonlight sauntering / waves dance with the gentle breeze / would you dance with me?” kazuha turns around, steps away from the stretched jitte, and smiles. “shikanoin?”
the detective lowers his weapon and slides it back in his holster. he shakes his head with a sigh. “you were careless, kaedehara. your cover was good, but sloppy. i had to redirect some of the others a few times.”
“i knew that i could rely on you.”
“i’m immune to flattery when it’s dark. try again.”
kazuha steps forward to whisper in his ear. “thank you.” he feels the doushin stiffen at the close contact, straight as a tree branch stuck in the sand. they haven’t initiated contact in a while, can’t be too close while they’re on opposing sides. heizou, technically, is working with the resistance, but because he’s still a doushin, he represents the tenryou commission first, his lover second.
“you should go,” heizou says at last. “i told them to find me at the beach. don’t squander this chance.”
“i wouldn’t dream of it. there are more innocent people to break out from jail, after all.” their hands are idle, so close yet so far. kazuha tightens his into fists and dips his head. the wind cloaks his retreat.
heizou stands there, letting the breeze caress his face. if he’s delusional enough, he might consider it a kiss from his beloved.
“shikanoin.”
if only his name was said with quiet affection, syllables broken into a delicate cadence. instead, it’s harsh, authoritative. he turns around. “madame kujou.”
she’s surrounded by doushin. one carries a lantern with the tenryou commission’s symbol. even though it doesn’t illuminate her entire face, her ire makes every one of her words strike like lightning. “you’re coming with me.”
he complies. his eyes flit toward the sky, hopes the wind will send his words to his beloved.
i’m sorry.
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Text
Out There
Writing a drabble for this week's @flashfictionfridayofficial prompt: "out there"... with some classic CSI...
Sara sat in Grissom’s office sipping at her cup of coffee.
“I suppose we won’t know what really happened there,” Sara sighed. 
“The truth is out there,” Grissom quipped.
Sara looked up and smirked. “You’re watching that show again, aren’t you?”
“It’s got some compelling storylines. You should give it a try.” 
She couldn't help but laugh. 
“I’ve got several seasons on DVD, if you want to come over.”
“Fine, but you’d better buy me dinner.” 
“How about tonight?” he asked. 
“Tonight?” she repeated.
“Do you have plans?” 
“Not really, I have to admit.”
“How about eight?” 
“That would work.”
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cannibalismyuri · 1 year
Text
the chances missed and the confessions said too late
the lights above the letters are glowing fast, hurried, urgent. its hard to be worried when nobody knows what's going on. eyes scrambling across the wall, trying to remember what words are, when the fear is crawling up his throat. its his family in there. its his mike. it was joyce's idea for the letters. after they were done painting them, she looked on with some sick nostalgia. missing fear when it was lighter. missing pain when it was sweeter. missing love when it was less readily available.
it's like with each cheap christmas light bulb that glows up, he can hear mike's voice spelling out each letter. feel the urgency and pure adrenaline powered determination behind his words.
I-T-S, pause, M-I-K-E
C-A-N-T T-A-L-K M-U-C-H
E-L W-I-L-L C-L-O-S-E G-A-T-E
I-T-S T-O-O L-A-T-E F-O-R M-E N-O-W
and something big rises up in will's throat. it tastes like bile, but it's probably hatred. god, he hates everything in that place. his fingers are itching with the desire to reach out. then he remembers he can't. and god...el and hopper need to come back alive, or he might just go insane. crazy together, but there's no together anymore. not really.
something big shifts inside will. and suddenly he's back there. stuck between the sides of the viewmaster. half here, but half there too. but he feels in control now. he did it on purpose, even though he doesn't know how. he can vaguely register joyce shaking him by the shoulders, screaming, desperate. she can't be left alone.
but mike is right there. he can be saved. will knows it. he needs to be saved. he's swarmed by demodogs. blood pouring out of a wound in his abdomen. he doesn't give up though. still batting helplessly at the demodogs. not accepting death when it was inside his house and eating a meal on the table, let alone at his doorstep.
that's who he was. even in death. stubborn, determined, loving, strong in so many ways. he loves him. god, he loves him. and he stood- paralyzed -as he died right before his eyes. vaguely registering more screaming from joyce and jonathan as well.
will feels numb. like somebody had poured a glass of cold water on top of him, but he felt nothing. and it feels too vivid, too real, like a nightmare. and maybe it is one. maybe all this is just an episode. being in a trance because of vecna and getting his soul ripped out of his body would feel better than this.
it feels vague and hazy at the same time. real, but simultaneously not. it feels white-hot. anger pooling in his stomach, electrifying his body to the tips of his fingers. and it seems like this is always the way its going to be. the universe will take everything he loves from him until there's no happiness left in the world.
in a split-second, there's a loud noise from another side of the forest, and the demodogs flood towards it. mike is left gasping, convulsing, trying to hold on to life with slippery fingers.
the reality of the situation kicks in, and will springs towards mike. he can't bear to see the light leave his eyes, but he also can't bear missing it. can mike see him? mike can see him. mike needs to be able to see him. will tries to speak but words seem to fail him.
mike tries to speak, strangled and half-choking, and all he gets out is, "will?" before he gets hit with a bout of coughing. blood comes along with his coughs. will is transfixed. its like watching a car accident happen, too terrible to look away.
and will manages to nod, his throat getting stuck on a sob, tears welling up in his eyes, refusing to fall out, refusing to let it be real, refusing to let boys cry. and mike tries to get his hands up to will's face. will helps him, his own hands slick with mike's blood while his hands cup his face.
mike manages to say a few words; his voice guttural and shivery, "i...i love you. i've always loved you. will, it's always been you, whether you knew or not. and im sorry i never said it. im sorry."
and will wants to scream and shout and cry until he has no tears left. he wants to say, you have nothing to be sorry about. its my fault, always has been.
will's face is wet with the blood on mike's hands and isn't that just perfect? mike choosing to mark will even while he slips away. the blood will never wash off. just another reminder that will could probably never love someone else like he loved mike.
and mike goes slack. his eyes seem lifeless. his hands limp. will can't feel anything anymore. just pain. anger. hate. grief. nothing. nothing anymore. and vaguely will registers that he isn't between the slides in the viewmaster anymore. hes back home. is it really home if mike isn't there?
joyce and jonathan bombard him with questions. will cant hear. will cant see. he can barely feel anything anymore. he looks at the binder mike had given him a few days ago. it was all of his drawings he'd ever given mike. mike kept them. he kept them.
will breaks down. choking on a strangled sob that forces its way out of his mouth. tears fall out of his eyes. he's kept them in far too long. he slinks to the ground, screaming, sobbing, feral almost. jonathan tries to calm him down. he hugs him. its all will can do to hug him back for dear life.
crazy together. yeah. there's no together anymore.
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