#anyways…. i’m cold and tired and honestly plenty annoyed and i want to go back to sleep…. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

keilemlucent · 4 years

Text

lavender latte: vi

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

chapter 1 || chapter 2 || chapter 3 || chapter 4 || chapter 5 || chapter 7 ||

masterlist

word count: 6.8k

finally. god.

warnings: none really! reader’s foot booted, but that’s about it.

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well. here we are. thank u to everyone for reading this sweet, sweet story. we’re not through it yet, but i’m happy to offer a meal with this chapter. enjoy lovies. beta’ed by the lovely love @keiqos.

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You had several problems after returning to your apartment from the hospital. One of your coworkers was nice enough to drive you and your things back, but quickly the niceties stopped and your vague hell began.

Exclusively being on crutches sucked. Navigating your apartment and trying to live somewhat normally was a massive pain. Even just showering was a task that sapped most of your energy. Standing one-legged and balancing made your body ache with a deep soreness, especially the first few days you returned.

This was not even to mention the unpleasant dreams you were having.

‘Unpleasant’ & ‘dreams’ were a nice way of putting it.

You could recall that during your first night in the hospital, one of your doctors told you of the possibility of experiencing a few post-traumatic symptoms. Considering how out of it you were at the time, it was unsurprising how you brushed it off.

The reality was much harder to ignore.

...

Cars revving.

Shouting.

Shattering—

Your eyes flashed open, chest heaving and brow covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

Fuck that.

It was the same dream, an obvious recreation of the stimuli of the event. Though it was scattered in your memory, the dreams made it horribly vivid and vibrant despite lacking detail. The sounds and smells of that day clung to you as you shook your head, forcing yourself into wakefulness.

Your comforter was thrown from your body, and you shivered as cold air rushed over you. As jarred as you were, you still swung your legs off the bed, readjusting your boot and your aching leg, half-heartedly glaring at your crutches.

Your apartment wasn’t terribly set up to get around with your limited mobility, but your difficulty functioning didn’t help your overall mental state. Everything was just harder with the boot on, and you did your best to work with it.

Being locked up in your apartment added to the hellishness of it. You were so used to the stimuli and social environment of the teashop, it felt like a cold water shock when you were confined to your home entirely alone except for your cats.

You could, of course, try and venture out into the world. But, it was still winter and the ice-covered sidewalks didn’t seem like the best place to try and crutch around.

Within the first day or two, you resigned yourself to your three-week fate of being holed up.

You had a laundry list of things you could do. Shows and movies to watch, places in your house to clean, your cats to pet, but—

You still had far too much time on your hands.

A lot of your newfound time in the first few days was spent on your back, leg propped up, and draped in ice bags, musing over Hawks.

Hawks.

Holy fuck.

You couldn’t avoid it, couldn’t stop it. Just thinking about him made every part of you swirl and thrum like you were listening to some sort of contently-chorded song and you were more than happy to play it on repeat until your ears bled. Maybe that feeling towards Hawks had always been there (it had), but now you accepted it and stopped holding yourself back as much.

You never thought the idea of someone squeezing your shoulder would send you into literal fits of giggles and butterflies, but boy, did it. Not to mention all of the careful touches and gentle words you two had shared in the aftermath of the attack, though the memories were hazy. What you did remember and cherish was the warmth of him, quirk activated or not. Each time you recalled it, your gut fluttered and your hands twitched.

Your ceiling was the most interesting place to look in your apartment. The plain texture was the perfect canvas to allow your memories of the sweet interactions the two of you had shared to play like comforting reruns. The commercial breaks of these daydreams were the texts exchanged between you and Hawks.

Keigo couldn’t stop thinking about you either.

It wasn’t as distracting as it once was, as he had been more liberal with letting himself text you. The high number of messages between the two of you was maybe ridiculous, but he was a fast texter and you seemed to have plenty of jokes and banter for him to share in.

As good as the texting was, it was also nice to check-in on you and your recovery. You seemed more annoyed than anything else, but Keigo wasn’t so much of an idiot as to think you weren’t in any pain or struggling at all. Though you didn’t explicitly tell him or show him, he was familiar with the pains of healing and could infer some things about your state.

Keigo tried to brighten your day as he could. ‘Hawks’ still had plenty of hero work to do, especially with the information extracted from the recently detained syndicate members. Despite this, he took as much time as he could to stop and send you little snippets and messages which hopefully would help you smile a little.

It did, of course. Just talking to Hawks did.

You had moments of awareness a few times a day where you had to remind yourself that, yes, (Y/N), you were just casual friends and deeply enamored with the number two hero and that sentiment was at least partially returned.

You had a lot of time to wonder to what extent the feelings were returned. They obviously weren’t entirely one-sided, right?

It was completely possible that they were, but you did your best to shake off the thought.

It was more likely that notorious bachelor and flirt, pro hero Hawks, just wanted a fuck with some feelings. To fuck with some feelings, right?

Though, he did say that he cares about you.

But, you definitely can care about someone you only want to fuck.

You wished you had some sort of definitive answer. The murkiness of it all just made the sweetness of the past and the texts of the present seem a bit sour.

Confessing to Hawks was daunting and terrifying. Not to mention, it felt a bit juvenile, all of it. People weren’t supposed to get melty crushes like this past high school, right? Especially not ones this deep on someone who couldn’t possibly feel the same as you, right?

During one of these moments of uncomfortable clarity, your phone beeped as you rested on the couch. Despite not even seeing the message, you knew it would be Hawks.

You grabbed your phone, clicking open the newest message.

[birdboy]: hey hey angel

[birdboy]: look at this fucker i found

The image attached was a photo of Hawks standing next to one of his own billboards, advertising some sort of sports drink. The photo had obviously been taken with a timer, the angle of the photo tilted as Hawks and the billboard were quite small in the frame. It added to the charm of the photo, the way Hawks was holding a feather blade to the throat of his own advert. You could even tell through the pixels he was wearing a wide smile as he did so, wings spread behind him

You snorted.

You and Hawks are just friends, you reminded yourself.

[you]: looks like a punk bitch 2 me dude

[you]: kinda uncanny resemblance tho

[birdboy]: i agree

[birdboy]: he’s hot tho

You rolled your eyes, still smiling as you readjusted on the couch. You weren’t disagreeing, not at all.

[you]: not wrong

[you]: still, punk bitch

[birdboy]: :^(

[birdboy]: feelings = hurt

[birdboy]: please tell me the photo is funny

[birdboy]: it took like five tries

[you]: very funny, im gonna save it and sell when im short on cash

[birdboy]: my publicist will blacklist u

[you]: i’d like to see them try

[birdboy]: is that a challenge angel????

[you]: a promise

There was a break in the messages, though Hawks appeared to be typing.

[birdboy]: unrelated but

[birdboy]: how are you doing?

You paused, taking stock of your disheveled, sleepy self. You were only a few days out of the hospital and you definitely could’ve been worse off.

[you]: im okay!!!

[you]: sore and tired honestly

[birdboy]: :^(

[birdboy]: i'm glad to hear its not worse at least

[birdboy]: ill send u lots more embarrassing photos

[birdboy]: a million angel

[you]: my hero <3

It all was surreal and mentally impossible to avoid.

You really, really liked Hawks and had for a long while.

...

Keigo spent most of the rest of the day busy with patrols and work for the Commission, much to his chagrin. He hardly got a chance to text you. It reminded him of his reality as a pro, his fast-paced nature and how he truly couldn’t slow down, not at that point anyway. He had a brand and habitual way of being that was standard. Even for you, he wasn’t sure if he could slow down, even if he wanted to or needed to.

The idea scared him, pieces of his reality.

But, at the same time, Keigo hadn’t ever felt like this before. The weird, but incredibly alluring and comfortable heat in his chest made him feel like he’d do anything for you. Fuck, he’d fly to the stars and move them if he could, if that’s what it took.

Maybe he even wanted to.

Keigo couldn’t become a different person, for anyone, that’s not how things worked. But if getting closer to you meant... adjusting, he could do that. Easily. He was adaptable as all hell and he’d be glad to use it for something that made him feel good instead of hollow.

Keigo busily flew the day away. As the afternoon turned to night, the sky going pink and purple with dusk, he settled on top of a taller office building. It looked down on a street market, its smells and sounds wafting up to him on his perch.

It gave him an idea.

A good one.

You were inspecting your fridge with a grimace. Balancing on your crutches and being counter-weighed by the boot on your foot made your angry stance a whole lot less intimidating, but it was the sentiment that counted.

Several days post-hospital had done a number on your food supply. The fridge was empty except for a few nearly expired items and condiments. The dry shelves weren’t looking much better.

The shrill sound of your ringtone from the couch made your jump, nearly falling. You teetered back over to it, eye-widening at the caller ID.

[birdboy] calling...

Hawks had never called you before.

You quickly picked up the call, “...Hello?”

“Hey, angel!” Hawks was chipper on the other line. “What’re you up to?”

“Currently?” You hummed, turning forlornly to your kitchen. “Thinking about how I either need to order groceries or order dinner before committing to my couch for the rest of the night. Why? You don’t usually call.”

“I don’t,” Hawks’s smile was apparent in his voice, even through the receiver. “But, I had an idea.”

“Shoot.”

“I might just be near a super good takeout spot. How hard would it be for me to convince you to let me drop some food by your place? My treat.”

You didn’t reply for a second.

Stunned.

“Are you sure?”

“More than, dove. I’m off the rest of the night, anyways.”

Oh.

That gave you an idea—

An idea that would surely push the envelope of your feelings.

Let it.

“Okay, I’m in. One condition.” You bit your lip, willing your stomach to seize fluttering.

“You name it. This place is really good and—”

“I have been going a little stir crazy, and,” You cut him off, squeezing your eyes shut in anticipation, “how hard would it be to convince you to come over and stay awhile?”

Hawks was silent.

Your stomach dropped.

“Wait, I-I mean—” You stuttered, trying to gather yourself, but this time Hawks cut you off.

“Like, to hang out?” Hawks sounded shocked on the other line.

“Yes.”

You kept your breathing even and prayed it didn’t read over the call.

“God, dove. I’d love to. I can be over in like ten—”

“Wait,” You fisted the fabric of your sweats. “Can I have a little more time? For myself and my apartment.”

Hawks chuckled on the other end of the line, “Sure, angel. Thirty sound better?”

You let out a sigh of relief, falling on to the back of your couch, “Sounds perfect.”

Keigo decided to tease a bit, his heart pounding in his chest almost painfully. He knew from day one that you were bold, but this was a treat. He had to spare back, just a little.

“Though, dove, I’m sure you look more than perfect yourself. You always do.” He didn’t wait for your response, either out of fear of what you’d say or being a bit smug, he wasn’t sure.

Keigo hung up the call, burying his face in his gloves to try and stifle the blush on his cheeks, though it hardly helped.

It didn’t have to.

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Thirty minutes later and you were mostly sorted.

You managed to throw yourself into the shower, tossing on something half-way decent, but still comfortable. Had to keep it casual.

Crutching around your apartment, you picked up what clutter you could, mind spinning. Hawks coming over to your fucking apartment filled you with elated, and yet terrifying, anxiety. A few times while cleaning, you legitimately paused to muffle quiet screams in your hand at the prospect.

You felt like you were going to burst.

Keigo did too, notably.

He took the time to fly all the way back to his apartment, take the world’s fastest shower, and throw on some clothes other than his costume. Going back to get food, his hands shook as he handed the bills to the starry-eyed vendor who he’d just written an autograph for.

You’d sent a quick text just before he’d left with a description of your balcony, so neither of you would have to figure out how to let him in through the roof.

As he flew to your place, Keigo felt like he was going to implode.

He didn’t ‘hang out’ with people. Nope, far too busy for anything like that. He was a compulsory workaholic, it was part of his mental brand of being (or, mental ‘branding’, maybe). The closest he got to casual time with folks was the preamble before a hookup or the time he had spent at the tea shop with you. Actually going to spend time with someone, casually, and it was you? It was all new and terrifying.

But, above all? Exciting.

The whole situation opened many doors, all of which Keigo pictured and picked apart as he neared your apartment. There were so many potential situations to appraise and plan for, he felt overwhelmed by it all.

The opportunity to spend some... time with you outside of the tea shop was a necessity, right? Keigo’s original idea had been to drop off some food and banter for a while, but the idea of spending one of his precious nights off with you was so much better than he could’ve expected.

Not to mention the warm bit of validation sparked by the fact that you asked him to come over, you wanted him around —

It felt nice.

So nice.

You paused, hearing telltale scuffing of someone on your balcony.

Oh my god.

He’s here.

Hawks is here.

You gulped, shaking your head.

Don’t you dare chicken out now. Commit, dammit. You’re just... hanging out. With your friend.

Yeah.

A knock on the glass pulled you to the door of your balcony, hobbling to slide it open on your crutches.

Hawks was happy to push the door the rest of the way open, stepping inside with a bag of takeout slung on his arm.

Your mouth parched, seeing him once again in civilian clothing. Was it... normal to get turned on by the fact that he looked normal?

As Hawks stepped into your humble apartment, wings tucked tightly to his back, you drank him in, hair ruffled with his clear visor placed on top of his head to push back the windswept front pieces. He wore a white sweater and black trousers complete with heavy black boots that were quickly untied and left by the door.

“You’re staring, you know,” Hawks interrupted your thoughts as you straightened up on your crutches.

Recover.

“Can’t prove that,” You tutted, crutching away from the door. “Also, welcome. Watch out for my cats, they might try to get a mouthful of your feathers.”

“Duly noted,” Hawks clicked his tongue, standing up and following you as you meander to the kitchen.

Keigo had to admit that your apartment was relatively... cute. He was used to his own, seldom-used digs. He had a big, uncomfortably nice penthouse with too many disused rooms and too much open space. Fixtures and furniture that were too expensive, probably, but it had been far easier to hire some big-name interior designer and not bother with dealing with it himself. Keigo had trouble keeping many ‘personal’ possessions, anyways. His training with the Commission made him almost revile the thought of keeping unnecessary, material objects, sans a few.

Your home was the exact opposite.

Maybe it was that he didn’t know how to have a personal touch that it made your cozy little apartment feel so full of them.

Little photos and artworks on walls or in frames caught Keigo’s eyes as he followed you to the kitchen. He took note of several blankets on the couch, catching sight of the plushie he’d given you at the hospital. Even the lighting of the apartment was personal, diffuse. With how easily overstimulated you became, it made sense that you’d keep your apartment so ambiently dim.

“So, first off, thank you for coming by and delivering dinner. I am eternally grateful,” You bowed dramatically, leaning to flail out a crutch at the motion. “Second, as payment, I’ll make you a drink. Maybe not with my quirk, but I have some of my old tea blends here.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Keigo shrugged, setting the takeout down on the counter while his ever-present grin nearly hurt his face from how relentless it was. “And tea? Show me what you’ve got. Or, should I trust you to pick one out for me?”

You hummed, clicking your tongue before moving across the kitchen to a different set of cabinets, “I think I’ve actually got a good one for you. It’s one of my favorites.”

“Lay on the details, angel,” Keigo hummed, leaning against the lip of the counter.

You did have the perfect blend in mind. It wasn’t too old, hardly stale. It would pair as well as a nice tea could with fried takeout, judging by the smells wafting from the bag on the counter.

“It’s one I made for a brunch we catered a few months back. It’s just a white tea raspberry blend, but it’s not delicate. It should stand up to any sort of food you’ve brought. Thank you, by the way.”

Setting your crutches down, you started to push yourself up onto the counter without thinking much of it, booted-foot going limp off the edge.

“Of course, anytime— woah, angel,” His voice choked as you wavered on the edge of the counter, off-balance.

There was a short flap of wings and rush of air as you tried to rebalance, cursing the deadweight of your leg.

If Hawks hadn’t been directly behind you, you probably would’ve eaten shit.

You turned yourself as far as you could, cheeks going hot.

Hawks’ face was just inches away from yours. That was even to mention the hands hovering around your waist, chest brushing up against your back.

“S-sorry,” Did he just fucking stutter? “You looked like you were about to eat shit there.”

The words hardly reach you, you were too busy actively telling yourself not to stare at his pretty, plump lips because that is not something friends do. Not the can of worms you needed to open, right?

“I-,” You turned away from him, stretching up to the tea tin that had been out of your reach. “To think you’ve saved me from falling while reaching for loose leaf tea, twice.”

“All in a day's work,” His hands twitched around your sides but hardly shifted until you began to descend from the countertop. In fact, Hawks hardly moved away at all until you were situated back on your crutches.

You pretended not to notice the flush on his cheeks.

Maybe, it was a bit too close. Definitely too close, and bad circumstances, but god, you wanted more and more of him.

You swallowed your desires down, cracking a smile.

Be normal.

Be cool!

You shook the tin, leaves and dried fruit rattling inside, “So, cream or sugar?”

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The two of you ended up on the couch, picking through the several boxes of takeout that Hawks had brought. Most of dinner was spent bantering back and forth about one of Hawks’ newest modeling contracts and if it was ‘ethical’ for him to wear his own feathers for the sake of ‘fashion’?

“So, off-topic from insulting my employment ethics, ” Hawks spoke while munching on a piece of chicken. “You surviving?”

“Barely,” You laughed, setting down your utensils with a huff. “I forget how isolation makes you go a little crazy. I’m running out of dumb shit to watch and even dumber shit to send you.”

Hawks snorted, setting down his own box, having had his fill, “I know you are more than adept at combing the internet for more good shit to send me.”

“I mean, maybe, but you keep sending me juicy photos of you being a dumbass. They’re hard to show up, you know?” You side-eyed him at the birdish tilt of his head.

“You don’t need to show me up, angel,” Hawks reminded you, some feathers packing up what was left of the food. “Though, it’s fun. You’re fun.”

You internally winced at the sentiment but forced the smile on your face not to waver.

It was a needed reminder.

This close to Hawks, you could fucking smell him. Maybe it was a little creepy, but you remembered it so well, after the villain attack. The scent of some sort of spicy cologne and old sweat, but it was hardly unpleasant. No, it was intoxicating. It made you feel almost fuzzy, as it wafted around like some reminder that Hawks and you were so close.

You thanked the stars that the apartment lacked the stimuli to make your quirk activate on its own.

Your couch wasn’t very large, and it seemed even smaller with how Hawks had laid his wings over it. They were propped up over the back, outstretched just the smallest bit to relieve some pressure. All the same, the massive feathers made you feel minuscule.

Even the way he was sitting was intoxicating and a bit gut-wrenching. It was casual, the way he leaned back against the far cushions, legs somewhat spread with an ankle over the opposite knee. The pose oozed a weird, untouchable confidence that you hadn’t seen in Hawks in months, maybe ever. At least, not directed at you.

Despite the warm nature of his words, he seemed guarded.

It made your throat dry.

Keigo was quite on edge. He hadn’t meant to get so close in the kitchen, really, he hadn’t. But, seeing you dangling off the edge of the counter like that, even if it was harmless and mundane, made his entire body and mind react before he could think.

But, you weren’t in any danger. Even if you had been, Keigo would’ve been there to catch you.

He’d put himself out of it, overthinking the whole thing. You were fine. Safe.

The other part of his mind spun with how he wanted to be so much closer.

Feeling the warmth of your body, the lines of your waist, the thrum of your heart and breath so fucking close—

It was a lot.

But, he was well-trained and not going to choke.

He’d shoved himself to the opposite side of the couch to you, keeping his boundaries up, strong as steel and hard as carbon.

Of course, Keigo knew the feelings were mutual. That didn’t mean that none of this was terrifying in the same way that it was exhilarating.

As much as he wanted to be closer (so much closer), Keigo remained careful. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was ruin something before it had even truly happened.

You sat back against the couch, repositioning your injured leg on the coffee table, “So, thoughts.”

“On?”

You didn’t look at Keigo as you replied, rather glared at your TV, “What to watch?”

“Oh,” You could hear the smile in his voice. “We’re watching something?”

“You tell me. I imagine you don��t get lots of time to do this sort of thing, do you?”

Hawks didn’t reply for a moment, sitting deeper into the couch, “Not really.”

“Then indulge, tailfeathers,” You tossed the remote in his lap. “Anything, go for it. Go nuts.”

Hawks nearly put on watching a reality cooking show, before you said that that was off-limits, per an odd conversation from way back when where he had admitted to be hot for Gordon Ramsey. He had been a little too vague as to whether or not he would pop a boner from Gordon’s filmed degradations. And truthfully, if anything was gonna give Hawks a hard-on tonight, you were determined for it not to be competitive cooking TV. Maybe, just maybe, you’d rather it be you.

...

Eventually, he settled on some psychological thriller you’d never heard of.

Keigo hadn’t either.

He was glad that you couldn’t hear his heart in the same way he heard your’s pounding.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched you crutch around, turning the already dim lights lower.

Calm the down, Hawks.

Calm the fuck down.

He’d never even done this before. Keigo wasn’t sure how to handle the situation, even if it was as simple as watching a film.

It would’ve been simpler if the tension in the air was thick and foggy, clouding over his consciousness as he tried to focus on anything other than your nearness and how much he wanted to drag you into his lap.

…

His feathers fluttered as you plopped back onto the couch, pulling a blanket over your lap and offering one to him.

He took it, settling it over his lap as the movie went on.

You weren’t an idiot. You could feel the blood rushing in your hot ears as you fisted the blanket over your legs.

Your mind spoke a lot louder than you wanted it to:

Just fucking do it.

Do what exactly?

The paramount thought that was causing anxiety to twirl in your gut.

Maybe, you could just tell him how you felt.

Maybe just hold his hand.

Maybe get fucking rejected because he’s out of your league and out of bounds.

Maybe even kiss him—

You were torturing yourself, the movie just background noise to your internal dilemma.

You’d asked him to your apartment and Hawks had bought you fucking dinner. That wasn’t a lot, sure, maybe, but there were also the months of lead-up.

There were all of the cold mornings and cheeky grins you gave each other in the waking coffee shop. There were the fuzzy jokes, the lingering glances, and the tight feeling you got in your chest whenever he graced you with mere eye contact.

It felt like you were already in too deep to not be honest about how you felt towards him. Fuck, you’d been in too deep for months. Every time you made him a damn drink, you wanted to just drink him in. You were all fluttering hearts and sweet smiles for him in a way that you couldn’t suppress, only squash in moments of such intense anxiety like this—

“Hey, dove?” It was Hawks, shocking you from your turmoil with a soft voice. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah, I’m good.” Your reply was curt and clipped.

Make a decision now.

Pull the bandage off, (Y/N).

It’ll just be worse, the longer you wait.

Maybe Hawks did just want to fuck with some cute feelings, the seemingly longing looks be damned. Yeah, you liked him way more than for just a fuck, that was obvious and unavoidable. Besides, it’d be better to know than to not know, right?

“You sure? If the movie’s too much, we can turn it off,” Hawks sounded genuinely concerned from the other side of the couch.

...

You committed, taking a deep breath and turning to Hawks.

“It’s not that,” You looked at the couch between the two of you, tracing the seam of the cushion. “The movie’s fine.”

“Then, you’re not feeling great for another reason?” Keigo asked, feeling each of your breaths and heartbeats like bass drums in his ears. He hides the shaking of his hands by crossing them over his chest. “You can talk to me, (Y/N).”

“Can I?” You asked, shaking your head and laughing at yourself. “Hawks, I need to do something really fucking stupid.”

Holy fuck.

Are they—

“What’s that?”

His voice was smaller than he wanted it to be.

“Fuck, Hawks,” You finally forced yourself to look at him, taking in his guarded posture and pained expression.

Your heart sank.

“I just need to be honest with you.”

Hawks’s brow soured, lips twitching, “Go for it, dove.”

You laughed, maybe trying to soothe yourself, “It’s probably is just, so fucking stupid, all things considered.”

You ran a hand through your hair, biting your lip between sentences and willing yourself to just get it out—

“Hawks, I like you. A lot.”

He still didn’t say anything and you could feel shards of your heart drive into your lungs.

You forced yourself to look up at him, smiling with the slight release of tension in your sternum, however painful.

“I know, we’re just friends, right? I’m just the barista and you’re my special, pro hero regular. I know I’m overstepping right now, but it feels unfair for me to not be honest with you.”

Keigo already knew this, right? He knew how you felt, fuck, he’d felt how you felt. He just wasn’t prepared for the exploding and thrumming in his chest when you told him with your sweet lips and kind words.

Why did it feel so different when you were smiling at him like you were in pain and telling him so fucking honestly with your words?

It was the thing about you that he admired the most, that candor in your tone and the grin in your cheeks as you spoke so.

But, your smile was falling, leaving watery-looking eyes.

“Hawks, I like you. Way too much for friends, and I needed to say something.”

Keigo’s mouth was dry.

For the first time in so fucking long, he was genuinely speechless.

He couldn’t recall a time in his life anyone had spoken so earnestly to him, just you. Just you, you, you— casually, over and over again, you talked to him like he was something real and something to be cared for. It was subtle, but it was one of the many things that made him want you closer.

Yet, despite all his bundled up desires, he was lost for words.

“I’m sorry—”

He stopped you, “(Y/N), please don’t apologize.”

“But—”

“(Y/N).”

Hawks’ voice was sharp. It made the expression on your face rapidly fall.

He looked at you with rapt attention, arms uncrossing from his chest.

He turned to you on the couch, feathers fluffed up and twitching.

Your nose stung as Hawks, all pretty golds and ambers, shook out an exhale and balled up the blanket in his lap.

“Hawks—”

“Why would you need to be sorry?”

Hawks looked at you with wide eyes, brow creased. His shoulders were... shaking?

Your head spun, leg aching, “... What do you mean?”

Hawks finally met your gaze, giving you the sweetest, saddest smile you’d ever seen, “Dove, you’re acting like there’s no way I could feel the same way.”

Every cell in your body stuttered.

“You’ve done it since we’ve met.”

Hawks scooted closer on the cushions of the couch.

“You’ve always acted like there’s just no way I could like you, give a shit about you—”

He moved a bit closer.

You couldn’t make yourself move.

“You want to know the truth?”

You creaked out a nod.

Keigo couldn’t help the way he went to cup your cheeks in his hands, thumbs rubbing along the apples of your cheeks. You lean into his touch, just like at the hospital, despite the blend of absolute fear and confusion in your expression.

“How could I not care about you, dove?” And it finally came out. “I care about so much— dove, I don’t know what to fucking say.”

That made you speechless, lips parting just the slightest bit as Hawks continued, losing composure with his morphing expressions.

He wet his lips, swallowing, “Dove, I’ve never—any of this. I-I don’t know what o-or how to say any of what I want to right now.”

You speak before thinking.

“Show me, if you don’t know how to say it.”

The idea seemed so novel as Keigo ran a thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it from between your teeth. He met your gaze with the gooiest, sweetest look you’d ever seen in your life, “You want me to?”

“Please.”

It was all the two of you had wanted for a while now, right?

“If I kiss you, I’m not ever gonna be able to make this go away, am I?” Keigo was speaking to himself, just above his breath. But, you were more than close enough to hear him.

“Hey, Hawks? I don’t know if we can make ‘this’ try to go away.” You grabbed one of the hands cupping your face, pulling it away, only to shakily press in your lips to the bones on the back of it. “I don’t want to anymore.”

“Y-you gotta stop being so sweet, (Y/N)—”

Neither of you could wait a moment longer.

Your arms wrapped around Keigo’s shoulder. In the same motions, he pulled you closer by your waist, dragging you finally closer to him.

He held your jaw like you were the most precious thing in the world. Because, truthfully, you were to him. The sentiment was shared Deeply.

Your lips pressed together and the long-held tensions in your chests mutually shattered, dissolving in the honeyed touch of each other’s genuine attention.

You angled your head perfectly, Keigo’s hand guiding you as his mouth worked against yours. It wasn’t a particularly steamy sort of affair, but by god, it wasn’t in any way chaste. Not with the tight grip and thumbing on your ribs. Not with the way your hands tangled in the soft (holy fuck, soft) hair at the base of Keigo’s skull.

You both tasted each other's sweetness, craving more of it after denying yourselves of it for so long. It was white-hot, exploding behind your eyes, even as your quirk remained dormant. Keigo was honey and cream and smoked spices all dancing across your palette.

To Keigo? You were sweet, cool water over a hot burn. You were the heat of a hearth rolling over him on the coldest of days. He swears that in the first moments he finally got to be close to you, and over and over again— he finally understood how your quirk worked.

There was no way that finally feeling you, feeling you as he felt you, could be described with just five senses.

You pulled away first, gasping for breath and arching your back into him. You lingered as close as you could, pressing your forehead to Keigo’s while your breaths mingled. You didn’t dare stray far.

“Was that enough to show you?” Keigo asked, breathless. He kept a wide hand against your back, urging you with a bit of soft pressure to put your weight into it. You complied, settling in his hold as Keigo stroked at your hot cheeks.

You nodded, beaming up at him with that sunny smile of yours. It never failed to make heat burn through Keigo and god, did it feel good to finally let it unabashed.

“I take it, you like me too, huh,” You smiled, looking a bit embarrassed.

“Very much, very much,” Keigo repeated, pressing a kiss to your nose (he’d always wanted to do that). “So much, (Y/N). I apologize for not saying anything sooner. This is just...”

“New to you, right?” You finished his sentence, thumbing along the back of his neck in a way that made Keigo just melt. “It’s been a while for me too, if it makes you feel better.”

“It does, dove. Thank you.” Keigo let out a deep breath, shaking his head against yours. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”

“It’s alright, same goes for me,” As much as you needed to adjust due to the angle of your recovering leg, you couldn’t make yourself do it. You were so wonderfully close to Hawks, you never wanted to move.

“If we’re being honest, then I need to be honest with you,” Hawks met your eyes, his expression going a little dimmer.

You braced for the worst.

He picked up your shift easily, finally able to express how quickly he caught your mood after so long of being attuned to it.

“Oh wait, no, (Y/N), nothing terrible, I promise,” Hawks rubbed at your sides. “It’s about the miel.”

“The... miel?” You cocked your head to the side, confused, recalling the drink somewhat hazily. “The drink I made you on the day of... the attack?”

Hawks gave you a tense smile, “That one, yeah. Remember how you said it was just based on your ambient feelings?”

“Uh-huh.” You let confusion lace your tone until it slowly started to dawn on you.

“You made the drink, ambiently, around me—”

Your eyes widened, mouth falling open, “Oh my god, Hawks, did my feelings for you get in the drink?”

Hawks graced you with a sweet, sympathetic smile, fingers tucking at the hair around your ear, “They did, dove. I’ve kind of known for a few days, it just hasn’t been the time or setting to say something. I apologize.”

“N-no, it’s okay, I totally understand,” You sighed into his grip. “I really thought it might be something worse.”

“Consider your worries assuaged,” Hawks hummed, eyes drifting to your boot. He deadpanned suddenly. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad does your leg hurt right now?”

Fairly bad, considering. You were half on your knees, the booted leg twisted awkwardly while still raised to the coffee table. This wasn’t even to mention the arch of your back so you could be all that closer to Hawks.

The pain of the position was easy to forget; you were still shaking from kissing Hawks just once.

“Uh, maybe like a seven, once I can feel anything other than how good you felt just now,” you hummed, grinning up at Hawks as his face went bright red.

The infinite pleasure you received, making him blush so sweetly.

He shook it off, squeezing your sides, “Cute. Very cute. Mutually returned sentiment, but let’s adjust.”

You nodded but didn’t have much time to react as a bundle of Hawks’s feathers lifted you every which way, albeit incredibly gently. All said and done, he was fully upright against the back of the couch. With the support of a feather or two, Hawks’s arms tugged you into his lap. Your legs stretched to the side, the booted one immediately propped up by a feather-supplied pillow.

You both settled yourselves, blushing and leaning on each other now that you finally were allowing yourself to.

Keigo fully wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tight against him. One of his wings even shifted to drape over one his shoulder, sheltering the two of you in a canopy of a crimson. Keigo let his hands wander over your hips, not seeking anything more than blessed attention and heat. You gave it all to him, tucking your face into his collarbone, drowning in the scent that made you feel at home.

Keigo pressed his lips to your crown and legitimately shuddering.

He spoke to himself, so faintly and quietly, you hardly caught it, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

There was melancholy in his voice, but you were quick to strip it away.

You brushed your lips along his jaw, savoring the way he held you tighter, “I have too. Can we do this more?”

“Anytime, dove. Anytime.”

“Right now sound good?”

You withdrew to beam up at him as you were so good at doing, only to be smothered by craving-satiating kisses anywhere Keigo could get to. The sweet, high laughter that he dripped onto you made your heart burst all over again.

And you finally, finally fell into the other sweetly, warmly, and properly.

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taglist: @thepandapopo @hawksexual @sinclairsamess @darcia22 @inhalingsoysauce @yee-fxcking-haw

#salem writes #lavender latte #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #hawks x you #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo x you #takami keigo x y/n #mha reader insert #hawks reader insert #hawks #takami keigo #hawks mha #hawks bnha #im soft for this one yall #so soft

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acciofanfics · 4 years

Text

Spell It Out (Oliver Wood x Reader)

Request: could you do an oliver wood x female reader where they’re like friends and she’s really little (like thin and short and she’s insecure abt it by the thinks it’s cute) so he’s like kinda protective over her but she’s oblivious and idk maybe like he gets jealous or something (?) idk u can make the plot but they get together in the end and maybe it’s a lil steamy (?) thanks sm!!! i love ur writing 🥺

Pairing: Oliver Wood x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Heavily implied smut and maybe language? I’ll say language to be safe.

Word Count: 1652

A/N: I hope this is what you wanted! I really struggled with thinking I wrote Oliver too OOC. That being said... I apologize if this is too OOC >.< As always here’s a reminder that requests are still open! - S

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Oliver Wood took quidditch quite serious, and would never fault anyone else for doing so. His chest swelled with pride when he found his team already on the pitch practicing, before their scheduled time. Maybe it was that they’d be playing Slytherin next week that had them finally taking the game as seriously as he did (they were Gryffindor’s biggest rival). His chest deflated when he saw (Y/N) playing keeper. How could they let her play?!

It wasn’t that he didn’t like (Y/N), they were good friends. Fred and George often said it was quite obvious he fancied her. Maybe, that’s why he had such a problem with it, quidditch could be a dangerous game! Of course it wasn’t against the rules for students not on the quidditch team to play around on the pitch and fly, but it should’ve been... at least for her. His first game on the team he took a Bludger to the head 2 minutes in and was out for a week!

Oliver found himself just watching for a bit; annoyed but distracted, he was fond of her smile and the wind catching her hair. Well, he was fond of it until Fred was hovering beside her, both laughing as her smile grew. Oliver couldn’t hear what they were saying so he had to make it up in his head and he was irritated that Fred had the nerve to suggest such. Oliver was quite glad he heard George yell and break his trance, “MUM’S HERE NO MORE FUN AND GAMES!”

Oliver tried to seem normal, as they all settled down and got ready for practice. He brushed off a friendly greeting from (Y/N) and tried to ignore the thoughts of her all together while she put the broom away. It wasn’t going to be the easiest task, given the fact that she usually settled in the stands to watch them practice.

It was a brutal practice... he had the tendency to do that: take out his frustrations on the pitch. It was pretty obvious that he was having an off day, but the team knew it was best to just suffer through it and hope next practice he would be in a better mood. Poor Fred seemed to get the brunt of the abuse.

(Y/N) was a bit concerned. It’d been awhile since she’d seen Oliver work himself and them this hard and that was after a particularly hard run in with Marcus Flint. (Y/N) just worked on her potions homework and waited for practice to end. It ran longer than usual, and her worry only grew when she didn’t see Oliver exit the locker room with the rest of the guys. She waited a few minutes before deciding to just walk right in.

“Oliver, you still in here?”

Oliver’s eyes widened at her intrusion, he’d just gotten out of the showers and wore only a towel around his waist, “Bloody hell, (Y/N)! Just barge right on in, will ya?”

She rolled her eyes at his tone. “What’s wrong with you today?”

He thought about responding with a simple: nothing, but they knew each other too well for that. It wouldn’t work. “Why were you out there playing today?”

“Is that what you’re mad about? We were just messing around, practice hadn’t even started yet. It was just a warm up.”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have been warming up with them.” Oliver approached her and as he sized her up, he really didn’t feel like he was being silly. She stood a good head or two (maybe three) shorter than him, and all around the girl was just tiny. A good gust of wind could’ve knocked her right off that broom, “You could’ve gotten hurt.”

(Y/N) was used to this, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. She wasn’t a child, even though everyone seemed to think she was. It was rather disheartening actually to be treated like this by him... she wondered if she was a bit taller and a little more filled out if this was the conversation they’d be having while he stood before her basically naked. “Oh, sorry. I thought something was actually wrong, I wouldn’t have bothered had I known you were just being a git. It’s not different than you playing! You could get hurt, in fact out of the 2 of us you’re the one with more quidditch related injuries.”

Oliver ignored her, they wouldn’t reach an agreement on the subject anyhow. He decided to go in on something else bothering him, “What are you doing here anyways? I figured you’d be back in the common room with Fred or whatever.”

Fred? He was two years younger than her (granted you definitely wouldn’t realize that by looking at them) and sure he flirted with her. It was Fred, he was flirty and goofy. It was the boy’s personality and had nothing to do with anything. “Honestly, Oliver you are too much sometimes! You’re going to act like I’m a child and then turn around and act jealous in the same breath?”

Did she really think he viewed her as a child? That wasn’t it at all. Maybe he needed to get over himself and finally come clean. “I don’t look at you like you’re a kid... and you call me thick.”

“Okay,” Sarcasm dripped from her tongue, “You act like I can’t do anything for myself, you’re mean to any guy that pays me any mind, you hardly let me carry my books for myself!”

“And there’s no other explanation for that?” Oliver’s eyes widened in disbelief when she didn’t speak up. He’d called her thick as a joke, but maybe... “Oi! Just make me spell it out, why don’t you? I fancy you, (Y/N)!”

Oliver Wood just confessed attraction to her. Was it some sort of joke? (Y/N) obviously had a crush on him, plenty of girls in their year did. She felt a little silly for being so oblivious, but most guys adopted her as a little sister of sorts. She’d had a few boyfriends here and there, but it wasn’t like they were lining up for her. And there she stood shocked and confused, “If this is a joke it’s not very funny.”

Oliver chuckled at the girl, she was still there so that must’ve been a good sign. “I’m not joking.”

“Why would fancy me? You guys said I looked like a first year yesterday.” She crossed her arms. Of course she wanted Oliver to like her, but something didn’t seem to add up.

“That one was a joke! And I didn’t say anything I just laughed,” He defended himself, but he supposed that didn’t make him sound much better. “I like your size... I think it’s cute.”

Honestly, (Y/N) had grown tired of being called ‘cute’, but she didn’t mind it that much when he said it. There was only one logical response to this in her mind (although there probably were a few more ways in all actuality). She grabbed his hand and pulled him closer to one of the benches where she promptly stood on top of one. Oliver smiled a bit, catching onto her plan, "You know you could've just asked me and I would-"

(Y/N) cut him off, he was being annoying anyhow. Her lips crashed against his and Oliver immediately a wave of relief crash over him. The doubt that had still lingered in his mind was long gone and all that he could focus on was what happening. He'd held the desire to kiss the girl in front of him for so long and now that he could feel her lips against his, he didn't want to feel anything else.

(Y/N) placed her hands on his chest, firm and still damp (up until that moment she'd somehow forgotten about the lack of clothing he was wearing). She knew this was highly inapproptiate and if McGonagall had any idea what her two students were currently up to she'd have their heads.... or at least a month of detention and quite a few house points. Call it teenage rebellion or maybe just lust, but it only fueled the desire to keep going. Oliver felt the same and pulled her flush against him, his hands felt so large against her clothed body that she shuddered to think what they might feel like against her skin.

For a first kiss, it was quite efficient, their mouths moved in tandom like they like dance partners that had been working together for years. Before she even really aware of what she was doing, (Y/N) found herself shedding her clothes (Oliver helping her out), it wasn't long at all before she'd practically caught up with the boy. She stood before him in nothing but her knickers, and perhaps she might've felt a little embarrassed baring herself in front of one of her closest friends, but Oliver didn't give her much of chance to even think those silly thoughts before his hands and lips were exploring her body.

How they’d gone all this time without each other seemed like a mystery that couldn’t be solved at the moment. Oliver lifted her up, a task easily accomplished given her stature and his training, and instinctively (Y/N) wrapped herself around searching for stability that she easily found. She arched herself into him involuntarily when her back hit the cold wall; the action earning a groan from Oliver.

Fred and George waited and watched from behind the stands. When (Y/N) and Oliver both exited the locker room hand in hand and foolish grins on their faces, their faces lit up. Oh the material they’d have to torment them! Honestly they hoped the couple wouldn’t even bother trying to deny it, they didn’t seem to bother trying to cover it up, or at least the twins assumed by the state of their hair. “Georgie, you owe me a galleon!”

#oliver wood #oliver wood imagine #oliver wood x reader #harry potter imagine #harry potter #fanfiction #fanfic #request

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cant-blink · 3 years

Text

Trust, Ch. 1

Summary: Despite being hated enemies with Gigan, Mothra ‘agrees’ to go on a date with him and is forced to put trust in this monster. Both Gigan and Mothra are using the FW design.

This was probably going to be one of the worst ideas she’s ever had, but she honestly couldn’t take it anymore. Hearing over and over, the same obnoxious attempts to flirt from this asshole as they battled it out time and time again. Hell, even outside of battle, he would yell out “Give me your number!” every time he saw her. What did that even mean?!

It was clear this alien cyborg didn’t take her seriously, didn’t take their fights seriously and it would be enough to break even the strongest of patience. It certainly has gotten on her very last nerve.

“Maybe after I’m done beating your ass out here,” he had said after slashing at her with a claw. “We can bring the action into the bedroom.”

She finally snapped and without thinking: “Shut up! Shut! UP!! I'll go out with you if you just shut the hell up!”

...

The silence that followed was almost as intense as their battle. The blue cyborg across from her tilted his head slightly, visibly taken aback that she actually said that. But she doesn’t back down from her bluff; one of them was going to fold and it’s not going to be her. Foolish and immature? Perhaps, certainly not something her mother would’ve done.

“What?”

“You heard me,” Mothra continued. “Going on and on about ‘showing me a good time’, how about you actually DO it?”

She was expecting, hoping, that he would immediately deny her, admit that he was just messing around. But instead, she heard him let out a laugh.

“You’re serious?”

She was dead serious, and he knew it. He never actually had any real interest in her, and his taunts were just that: taunts, meant to agitate her. It was funny, hearing the increasing anger in her voice as she kept telling him to shut up and fight. Really, she only encouraged him by saying that. But the idea that she would actually accept his ‘offers’ never crossed his mind and for a moment, he had no idea how to respond. She was bluffing, surely, but does he call her on it?

Well, of course he has to. This has become a game between them, and he was not going to be the one that backpedals. Who knows, maybe it could be fun.

“Alright then, babe,” Gigan chuckled, straightening out from his fighting position. “My bedroom, or yours?”

“No,” she told him firmly, her mind scrambling to avoid THAT fate. “We’re going to do this properly. You want me so bad, take me out on a date first.” Ha! Now the stupid cyborg definitely had to back down first! Surely, he would never-

“A date?” Gigan responded with a combination of disbelief and amusement. Well, now she definitely had his curiosity and still not backing down, he stepped closer. She doesn’t move from where she hovered. “Where to?”

“I don’t know,” Mothra told him. Shit, she’s losing it! “You’re taking me, so wherever you think I’ll have a good time.”

Gigan watched her for a moment. She really was being serious, wasn’t she? Alright then, he’ll bite. He wasn’t exactly sure what SHE would find fun, probably something boring like the beach or something. Nah, he had better ideas on where to go to have fun, and he already had one in mind.

“Tell me, how often have you actually travelled off this pathetic little mudball?”

It was Mothra’s turn to tilt her head and she would narrow her eyes if she could. He’s an alien, so of course he would want to go somewhere off the planet. But... “Never. I can’t fly into space, so whatever you have in mind isn’t going to work.”

Just keep being difficult, he’ll give up eventually.

“Don’t be so sure, babe,” Gigan pressed. “Anyway, there is this one bar I like to go to.”

“A bar?” THAT’S this cyborg’s idea of a date? Granted, she hasn’t been in any sort of relationship before, but she’s next to certain the bar wasn’t the usual choice for a first date. Right? Either way... “In space? Seriously, how exactly am I to get there, genius?”

“I suppose the real question is, how much are you willing to trust me?”

“Not at all.” she deadpanned.

“Smart girl,” Gigan snickered. “Unfortunately, you don’t have much of a choice, do you? After all, I’m taking you, right?” Mothra was clearly not amused with him using her own words against her. “Or do you want to back down? In which case, I’m calling this battle a win.”

“No, no. I’m not backing down from anything.” Her sense of pride forbids it. “But you do know there’s plenty of bars here on Earth, right? We can just go to one of those. I think Anguirus actually has one on Monster Island.”

“Ha! His little shack won’t hold a candle to the one I go to. The location alone is breathtaking, better than anything you’ve ever seen here,” he tells her. “Only the best for you, babe.” He flashed his visor at her, and she flinched the tiniest bit. False alarm, that wasn’t another of his laser blasts; it was his version of a wink.

He didn’t seem to notice her little flinch as he continued. “That and my friend works there. We’ll get free drinks, without me having to kill anyone for them. Which I will happily do in your local bars. You wouldn’t want innocent blood on your claws, would you?”

He really was making it difficult for her, trying to get her to back down first! He got her in a corner here and neither of them were backing down! What have they gotten themselves into?!

Mothra kept her blue compound eyes on him before she glanced back down towards the ground. After a moment, she looked back up at him and saw him watching her expectantly. There was no way out of this unless she surrendered the battle.......

Which will never happen!!

“Fine.” This is going to be a bad idea, but she can’t back down now. Besides, the more time he’s spending with her, the less time he’s causing trouble. This can work to her advantage. “Again: How am I going to get there?”

“You’ll have to come closer, babe,” he tells her. “Real close.”

Yep, this definitely was going to be a bad idea, but nonetheless she flew closer to the cyborg. Her wingbeats were slow and cautious as she approached, hesitating just out of range. She could imagine her mother yelling at her over this. Hell, even Battra would scold her for this stupidity...

“Closer.”

Her claws twitched, as she gave another flap of her wings to close the distance a little bit more. No sooner had she done that than he reached out a claw and pulled her in. Her legs instinctively pushed against him, trying to keep her body off his and, most importantly, off that buzzsaw. But alas, Gigan pulled her back against him, the smirk ever-present on his beak widening.

“Let go,” she demanded.

“Don’t be so difficult, babe,” Gigan chuckled. “I told you, you’re going to have to trust me, whether you like it or not.” His visor moves to her wings, still fanned open and his other claw trails over the scaly surface, slight dust falling as he does. “I suggest you fold these down. My transport won’t accommodate for them.” His voice took on a sarcastic tone. “Would hate to damage such pretty little sails.”

Why does he keep calling her wings that? It’s annoying as fuck, but she has long since given up correcting him on it.

Without a word, she folds her wings down, as tight as she could against her body. Even rolling up the edges to make extra certain they were safe from whatever was about to happen. Unfortunately, she really did have to trust this cyborg at this point, and she hated it.

Gigan started flying straight upwards, carrying her with him. How far up are they going to go? In no time, she was higher than she usually flew and it was already getting colder, especially as they made it above the clouds. The droplets of water on her fur frosted over, and the air was starting to thin. She felt the muscles in her thorax begin to shiver, and her abdomen contracted and expanded quickly to force in more air, the insect equivalent to gasping for breath.

Her heart began to race in her abdomen as she began second-guessing Gigan’s intentions. He was going to take her into space without protection, wasn’t he? Swear, she will reincarnate in an instant just to kick his ass!

She already began pushing against him, about to struggle free to commence the ass-whooping when Gigan suddenly curled up around her. Blue energy escapes him and began to solidify around them. Now she understood what he meant about potentially damaging her wings, as it seemed the energy already had a pre-set boundary to construct around. No doubt her wings would be crushed or even cut right off if they got in its way.

Mothra rolled her wings up more, making sure the edges don’t extend beyond Gigan’s body. Only after the diamond was fully formed around them did she relax her wings, unfolding them to rest against the transparent walls of their space-pod. She can breathe properly again, and her abdomen relaxed as well. She wasn’t going to suffocate, she was going to be okay. Hopefully...

It took a moment for her to comprehend that she’s now trapped in here. With Gigan of all kaiju. The available space was quite snug too, so pushing off of him wasn’t much of an option. He was quite warm at least, especially after the cold trip up here.

What was most alarming, though, was the ever increasing sleepiness blanketing over her. The way it was coming out of nowhere wasn’t natural. Oh, no... She glanced up at the alien’s face, only to find his visor dimming. “Gigan?”

“Hm?” His voice sounded tired and his visor brightened slightly. Oh, he was falling asleep, so whatever it was is effecting him too. That meant it was normal and she wouldn’t be left vulnerable to him. Good, because she wasn’t ready to trust him THAT much. She doesn’t say anything further and instead shifted a bit.

The cyborg made no attempt to hold her still and she moved to peer over his shoulder. His sails were flattened against his back, giving her a clear view behind him.

There was Earth, getting smaller and smaller behind them. They must be accelerating at insane speeds, yet she felt none of the g-forces involved. Very odd.

She felt Gigan rest his chin down onto her back, and she does nothing to shake him off. No, she focused only on her home getting further away. She hoped everyone there will be okay, and that Battra won’t do anything stupid like kill all her humans. Damn idiot counterpart, thinking he knows better than her; ‘The humans are a threat to the world, blah, blah, they must be destroyed, blah blah’. He’s just mad they worshipped her over him.

Her mind was getting cloudy as the sleepiness overtook her and she too rests her chin on Gigan’s shoulder, cheek pressing against his neck. She can feel his breathing slowing down, until it was undetectable.

This wasn’t just sleep, she realized. This was full-blown suspended animation, and she wasn’t quite sure if she was ready for that. Didn’t matter, it was already too late to turn back. Her own eyes dimmed and her antennae drooped as she drifted off, her beloved Earth now a speck in the distance.

She’ll be back, she promised.

#gigan #mothra #final wars #godzilla #smol dante reference in there XD #all this because they both don't know how to back down from a bluff #my mothra is that immature

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sh1tbird-shantytown · 3 years

Text

this is a little thing i’d like to call “The Letterman Game” and it is completely and utterly random. so. enjoy!

===

“I can’t love you,” Tommy said. And that didn’t surprise Steve in the slightest. Tommy had other people to sucker up to; he had Carol. And sure, Steve had plenty of other people to daze around with, but Tommy was just about his favorite person in this town.

Steve played along though, “Who ever said that I needed your love?” He expected Tommy to turn a pink and walk away, but that didn’t happen.

Tommy’s lips thinned and he shined in the summer sunbeam angelically instead, “Don’t play around now, Steve. You’ll only feel worse afterword.”

Steve blinked back the prick he felt at the corners of his eyes, “Don’t assume things, Tommy. Just because—”

Tommy placed a heavy hand down on Steve’s shoulder, “Just because you’ve gotten cheated on three times now? Steve, I’m no rebound, I’ve told you that.”

Steve shoved Tommy’s arm off and shuffled back, dizzied, “It’s been four months, I think I’ve gotten over Nancy and I’ve definitely forgotten all the rest by now, Tommy!” He tossed his hands up into the air when Tommy made a move to move closer, brow pinched in concern. “It was just a simple thing, you know? I came to tell you that I care about you and if you finally wanted to get your head out of your damn ass. Then, I would try. Tommy, I’m so tired of you trying to deflect my feelings like your own aren’t apparent. So go, go to Carol like you always do and forget about little ole Steve Harrington. Because he’s just a pathetic little rich boy who doesn’t see the world as it is right?” Steve turned his back, not allowing Tommy to get the chance to see the tears that were about to fall. He was done.

“Steve, come on man!”

“Zip it, Hagan. Because I know more of what’s in our world than you’ll ever even comprehend. And it sucks,” he spat out and jogged the final steps to the parking lot.

To hell with childhood sweethearts. Honestly.

===

It wasn’t long after the “fallout” that Tommy was fawning about Billy Hargrove and their new buddyship. Unfortunately for Tommy Hagan, Billy Hargrove took a rather keen liking to Steve Harrington instead. So, Billy and Tommy didn’t actually spend much time together.

Steve and Billy became the new duo; hung out at the community pool for the few last weeks it was still open for the year. Got real close.

“Tommy’s annoying as hell,” Billy kicked his foot out and splashed water onto Steve’s own bare leg as they sat by the edge of the pool. Their feet in the water just barely too cold water. Only an inch or so apart with their hands in their own laps and shades covering their eyes. “I don’t know how you managed to tolerate his constant whining.”

Steve sighed and tilted his head at the shimmering water, “He was my best friend since we were kids, I whined with him.” Billy chuckled and Steve allowed himself to grin, “And he’s not that bad, he’s a good friend when he wants to be.”

Billy scooped a floating bee out of the water and tipped it over onto the concrete, “When he wants to be doesn’t aline well with when I want him to be.”

Steve watched as Billy pushed the accumulating water puddle away from the drying bee carefully, “I guess I never noticed that we might have been the wrong fit for each other, he was never all that with me. He was there when it mattered the most though.”

Billy’s finger twitched, “You really liked him didn’t you?”

Steve snorted and watched their sunlit reflections dance along the water, “Yeah, but that was a while ago. I can see a lost cause when it’s right in front of me, and he wasn’t in it enough for me to keep trying.”

Billy nodded, “Not all pairs are meant to stick forever.” The bee stood up and Billy sat up straight to catch Steve’s eye. He smirked suddenly and whispered, “I have an idea, Stevie. You in?”

Billy’s curls fluttered in the breeze like wings and Steve tucked one away with two fingers, “All in it for you, Bills.”

===

Billy didn’t actually have a well developed plan, just a spur of the moment decision really. But he did have a question that needed answering that Steve didn’t like the sound of.

“Do you still sincerely care about Hagan? Because if he reacts the way I think he will and you do, you’re going to be in a bit of a rut, Harrington.”

So, Steve thought it over in a relative one moment and responded, “He could break is arm again and I wouldn’t give him the time of day.” Billy was completely silent for a moment and Steve kept his decisive face clear as day.

Billy smiled all excited, “Oh, baby, I haven’t gotten into shit like this in a long time,” he opened the Camaro trunk and started moving things around.

Steve stayed behind the lid of the trunk, leaned against the back door, and raised a brow, “Define shit.”

“Drama that doesn’t involve Sally and Dean, that shit,” Billy grunted as something heavy thudded against floor of the trunk. “Fun shit, where we get a good, mostly innocent laugh, and Tommy dearest doesn’t get a chance to see what hits him.”

Steve raised his other brow and giggled lowly as he traveled around to Billy’s side, “What do you have planned, Inspector Gadget?” Billy responded by lifting up a blue letterman jacket with a big ‘A’ patch on one side. Steve smiled at the fact that Billy actually owned one, “Cute.” Billy’s grin grew so big his teeth showed, and then he turned it around so that it could be seen that big, bold, white, blocky letters crafted out ‘HARGROVE’ on the back. Steve gaped at it, “What are we gonna do with that?”

Billy draped it over Steve’s shoulders and admired as he slithered his arms in the sleeves, “Hot damn, Harrington.” Billy’s eyes roamed, “Blue is definitely your color. You think Hagan’ll get a kick outta this?”

“We are not,” Steve whispered but popped the collar up anyway.

“Oh, doll,” Billy purred and leaned in flirtatiously, “Yes, yes, we are.” Billy’s eyes glowed, “We’ll leave him in the dust.”

#steve harrington #billy hargrove #tommy hagan #carol perkins #harringrove #failed stommy #idk i don’t like it much but i spent too much time on it to let it go to the dogs

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readyplayerhobi · 4 years

Text

Flower | 26

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff

; Word Count: 3.7k

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: Thank you for reading this :) I hope you’re all enjoying it still. Please reblog so others can read and let me know your thoughts in some feedback! :D I’m always happy to hear them and I’m a little worried that you might all be getting bored or something :( <3

; Flower Masterpost

You’d be more surprised about the fact that it was just after eleven in the morning and Hoseok still wasn’t awake; if you didn’t have the memory of how drunk he’d been in the early hours. It had been amusing to wake up and see him still completely fast asleep next to you.

He hadn’t even shifted position throughout the night, still laid exactly as he had been when he’d passed out. Before leaving him alone, you’d had to push him onto his other side to try to reduce the chances of him waking up with an unfortunate strain somewhere. Because that’s what happened when you were an adult. Sleeping gave you injuries sometimes, and you’d rather he didn’t wake up with more pain than he was already going to have.

Being an adult is fun.

Your concern for his health hadn’t stopped you from cooing softly at how cute he looked sleeping though. His face looked almost innocent when completely relaxed, a sight you didn’t often get to see given he got up and went to bed before you. The stomach-clenching sweetness wasn’t helped by the fact your heavily tattooed and pierced boyfriend was juxtaposed against the white bedding with tiny, cartoon ice-creams in multiple colours all over it.

Honestly, it’s no surprise you’d had to snap a picture to show him when he woke up.

The sound of shifting and a slight creak from your bed through the open door of your bedroom distracts you away from your book. Looking up and at the doorway, your gaze narrows as you wonder if he’s just finally moving around or if he’s waking. But then you hear the quiet groan of someone who’s suffering and have to stifle a laugh. Placing a bookmark between the pages and putting it onto the coffee table, you go and fill a glass up of fresh, cold water for him and pop some painkillers.

Walking in, you’re greeted with the sight of Hoseok on his back. He doesn’t particularly look grateful to be awake, with one tattooed arm covering his eyes and the other rubbing at his head while he lets out the tiniest groan. Smiling to yourself, you place the glass onto the bedside table and nudge his arm softly.

“Hey, sleeping beauty. How’re you feeling?” There might be just the smallest hint of teasing in your voice and you’re thankful Hoseok has never really shown much of a temper before. Because given how rough he must be feeling, he could easily snap at you.

“Like I got run over by Satan’s truck and then he reversed back just for good measure. With an added dose of Jason Voorhees stabbing my brain through my eyeballs.” He grumbles, voice hoarse with sleep and you can’t stop the laugh that slips from your lips without meaning it.

Sitting next to him on the bed, you gently tug his arm down until you get to see his face properly. The usual puffiness of sleep is there, only this time it’s combined with red eyes that are slightly bloodshot and what looks to be an unhealthy pallor to his skin. No surprise, given how much alcohol he’d ingested last night. His liver would not be thanking him today. Nor was his head probably.

“Those are some very specific descriptions.” Hoseok sits up slowly and takes a huge gulp of the water that you hand him before taking the painkillers with a soft thanks. They go down equally quickly and he’s finished the whole glass before you can even blink.

“Yeah, well. It’s true. Also, I need to pee so fucking bad. Holy shit.” He mumbles, scrambling out of bed once you take the glass from him. Snorting at how quickly he exits the bedroom, you go out to refill the glass and grab a dark chocolate and orange breakfast bar. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, you wait for him to finish his business and come back.

Which he does after five minutes. The tired kiss he presses to your lips tells you he’s taken the time to brush his teeth too so he’s probably feeling slightly more human at the moment. Handing him your hangover goodies, he drinks half the glass before chewing half-heartedly on the bar, pulling a face as the flavour clashes with the mint of his toothpaste before his gaze goes vacant while he looks down at the bedspread.

“Did you clean me or something before bed? I smell really good to say I’m this hungover. I don’t even feel gross. I mean...physically at least. Mentally, I feel like every sewer level in a horror game. Gross, annoying and entirely unnecessary but inevitable,” He’s rambling a little now and you frown, tilting your head at him. “God, I can’t remember the last time I was this hungover. Or maybe I’m still drunk, I’m not quite sure.”

Rolling your eyes, you plump your pillows up and lean back as you watch him eat methodically. Hoseok isn’t exactly doing it fast but you get the impression that he’s got a severe headache going on and is trying to reduce aggravating it. You want to coo at him but feel it’s not the time to be doing that.

“No, that was you. You were adamant you wanted a shower and your teeth cleaned when we got back. I had to make sure you didn’t drown yourself because you got it into your head to drink the shower water and then had to brush your teeth for you because you have a bad gag reflex and kept stabbing yourself in the throat.” Hoseok winces at that, his hand coming to the said throat as he rubs it.

“That explains that then,” He mutters before looking at you a little bashful, his cheeks a tiny bit pink. “Sorry. I completely forgot that I became some weird clean freak when wrecked. There are worse things I could be though.”

Nodding with a wry smile, you acknowledge his statement while he finishes eating before handing you the glass and empty wrapper. Placing them both on the bedside table, you go to move away when he suddenly lays back down. On his side of the bed this time.

You’re prevented from moving when he cuddles up to you, his arm wrapping around your waist tightly to pull you down while he rests his head on your chest with a heavy sigh. Hoseok doesn’t weigh too much, but he’s not exactly light either. No complaint leaves you though, not when you enjoy the feel of him pressed against you so much.

“I like your boobs. They’re soft.” He mutters and you can’t help but laugh, accidentally jerking his head as your chest moves violently but he doesn’t complain except for a soft noise that leaves him. Carding your fingers through his hair, you twist your lips in amusement as you wonder if he is a tiny bit drunk still.

“Thanks, I grew them myself.” Now he’s the one chuckling, leaving a kiss on your collarbone before sighing deeply. His weight seems to double as he relaxes against you but again, you don’t complain at him. Not yet anyway. You probably would in five minutes when he gets hot enough to feel like you’ve stepped into Mt. Doom.

“There’s some pictures of last night if you wanna see.” You tell him quietly, enjoying just cuddling with him as you play with the soft strands of his hair. He doesn’t respond for a moment and you wonder if he’s fallen asleep before he hums, shifting until his head is on your shoulder so he can see your phone. You’d brought it in with you and it had been on the bedside table until now, so you grab it and unlock it.

Clicking through Facebook, you show him some of the statuses that both his and your friends had made throughout the night along with the photos that had accompanied them. There was a particularly delightful photo that must have been taken after you’d left, of Jimin vomiting outside the bar while Yoongi and Jungkook pointed and laughed.

The two of you chuckle as you go through the photos, getting to see the night live out once more in visual form and Hoseok makes a few comments here and there. Chungha’s pictures went from relatively sweet selfies of her to selfies with Soyeon, Dahyun and you to what can only be described as drunken blurs. You’re pretty sure one of them is her making out with her girlfriend but you can’t quite tell.

What you can tell is Soyeon kissing Jungkook in the booth in the background of one of Taehyung’s photos. You point at it excitedly to Hoseok as you tell him that they must have got drunk enough to let their inhibitions go after you’d both left. Neither of them had responded to your excited texts yet though, causing him to laugh when you pout at not being able to find out if your matchmaking was truly successful.

“It seems like it was a good night. Not that I can remember anything.” Hoseok mumbles, his lips pursing in a cute pout and you gently tap them. You’ve migrated from looking at Facebook to Instagram, where the pictures are a little bit classier and more put together. No one wants to look bad on Instagram after all.

“I took some photos of us too, and Soyeon sent over some she’d taken.” There had been plenty of Hoseok on Facebook, all in various stages of him getting drunk until you could practically smell the alcohol on him through the screen. Not so many of you though, given that you’d purposefully avoided the camera throughout the night.

Though Soyeon had managed to capture one or two pictures of the two of you together from earlier in the night. Flicking through to your gallery, you let him see the photos as you scroll through them.

“I haven’t put them anywhere yet. Wanted to see what you thought.” Hoseok takes your phone from you, shifting slightly in bed to be more comfortable and scrolls back to one Soyeon had taken. Neither of you has drinks in your hands, nor are you even looking at the camera.

Your arms are around his waist, front pressed to his side while his arm is wrapped around your shoulders. It’s almost sickening how much love and affection is painted onto your face as you smile up at him, your eyes softer than you’ve ever seen before. Anyone looking at this would easily be able to see how grossly in love you were with him.

But what made you love this photo was the fact that Hoseok was looking back at you with an equally disgusting amount of emotion. His smile was broad and genuine while his eyes were firmly focused on you. It was perhaps one of your favourite photos ever already and you weren’t surprised that Hoseok had focused on that.

“This one. We’re putting this one up.” He mutters quietly, already going to your Instagram before looking up at you with a questioning glance. Nodding your approval to him, he plays around with the custom filter settings until he has it looking exactly like he wants before posting it and sharing it to Facebook as well.

Before he gives your phone back, he scrolls through to another photo that you’d taken. It was a bit later in the night with Hoseok a little more drunk than he had been, but you kind of liked it too. A selfie this time, with your faces taking up the screen but your smile is so big as you laugh, eyes scrunched closed while Hoseok squishes a kiss against your cheek.

“I want this one,” With that, he sends it to himself before giving your phone back to you with a smile. “Looks like I had a very good night. Wish I could remember it but...whatever. Did you enjoy it?”

Pausing, you place your phone back onto the table before wriggling down the bed to get more comfortable. You think hard on his question, contemplating whether you’d truly enjoyed yourself last night. Going to bars and parties were your least favourite thing to do and he was well aware of that. Combined with drinking, it was perhaps your worst-case scenario.

“I didn’t exactly enjoy it but...it was kind of fun. Nice to see everyone and talk to them. Funny to watch them getting drunk. Most of all, I liked watching you enjoy yourself. I’m glad that you got to have fun and do what you love with your friends for your birthday. I know that I don’t like drinking or going out but I never want to be like...an anchor holding you back, you know? So yeah, I enjoyed it more than I’d expected to.” Perhaps that was a little more honest than other people would be, but you didn’t see any point in lying to him.

He knew what you liked and didn’t like by now, you’d been dating almost a year after all. On top of that, Hoseok had been concerned that you wouldn’t enjoy yourself and would make yourself unhappy just to satisfy his want to get drunk with his friends. So you hoped him hearing that you’d enjoyed yourself more than either of you had anticipated would relieve his worries.

“Good. I mean, not good that you didn’t fully enjoy it but I think we both knew you were never going to really. I’m glad you came with me though. Means a lot to me.” He smiles at you, his expression bright despite the tiredness etched into his face.

“That’s why I did it. It was your day and I wanted to make you happy.” Your words are soft and gentle, more than a hint of shyness threaded through them. Would you ever truly get used to telling him emotional things like this?

You hoped so because he was always so comfortable showing his love and affection for you. But at the same time, that was just his love language. Yours was different, and you knew he appreciated that too.

“Well, you did. So thank you. And thank you for my presents, I love them. Do you mind if I set up the vinyl player here? Given I spend the most time here?” His question is innocent and you can sense there’s no expectation on you. You’d have to give up something to let him have space for it, but you know that if you told him no that he’d accept it without complaint.

But that led you to something you’d been contemplating for a while now. Perhaps much quicker than anyone would have thought you’d have started to think about this topic given how long it took you to admit your love to him or even just have sex. This was a much bigger life change, something that would affect both of you drastically and have the potential to truly make or break your relationship.

And yet you’d been unable to not think about it. Perhaps most surprisingly, you actively wanted what you were going to suggest.

“I mean...well, yes. I’m okay with it but, well I was thinking… M-m-maybe, I mean...do you want to...what do you think a-a-about-” You’ve devolved into the kind of nervous and awkward mess you’d been when you first met him and you know he’s both confused and worried. His head tilts up to look at you, brows furrowed together in confusion as to why you’re suddenly getting like this over a vinyl player.

“Baby? What’s wrong? Just say it. Whatever you’re thinking, just say it. I’m not gonna laugh or tease you. I mean...unless it’s funny and then I can’t be responsible for my actions.” Hoseok laments, his face scrunching as he realises he can’t be completely honest. It makes you smile though as he’s being truthful and you push at him till he’s moving off you.

Sitting up, you play with your hands as you stare at them, licking your lips nervously.

“Do you want to move in? I mean...or at least, move in together? T-t-this place probably isn’t big enough f-f-for us both to live here with y-y-your stuff but yeah. I’d like it, I think. I mean, I would. And you basically live here anyway. T-then you don’t have to pay full rent and stuff and we can share bills so i-i-it’d be better for us both, yeah? Unless...unless you don’t want to live with me. Then it’s okay. W-we can-” He cuts you off with his hand against your mouth, his eyes dancing in amusement despite how tired they look.

“Sweetheart, please let me respond before you talk yourself out of it, okay? You want us to move in together, correct?” Nodding slowly, you take a moment to glance over at him and see what his expression looks like. Whether he looks agreeable or not.

Hoseok has a carefully blank face at the moment and you swallow thickly, wondering if he’s going to reject you. It’s fine if he does, honestly. Some people don’t like living together properly. Having his own place means that he can escape from you if he’s had enough or something. You knew that you were a lot to deal with sometimes.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel pressured into it or anything. I’m fine as it is now if you want to keep it like this. I know you like your own space after a while and I don’t want to intrude into it. Plus, this apartment is your home and it’s your safe space. I don’t want you to uproot yourself just because you think you should be doing it or anything.” He makes perfectly logical points and your heart expands with love for him at his acknowledgement of something that had been a concern for you.

You didn’t handle change well and while you were excited at the prospect of moving in with Hoseok, the knowledge that it would completely upend your life for a short while was terrifying. This apartment had taken a long time to get feeling like a home, to somewhere that you love and feel like you can recharge in.

It would take time to make whatever new place you get with him to feel like home too. And you wouldn’t be able to escape him by just going home or anything. He would be there all the time. You knew it also came with the added complication of entangling you both even more, making your lives and your hearts even harder to separate.

But you couldn’t stay coddled forever.

“I might struggle with it a bit at first but...I want to. I love being with you and you make me happy. I hate when you go home and I’m alone again, it’s harder to sleep without you here. You might not want it though but...I just thought I’d bring it up. We can talk about it more in-depth to make sure we’re on the same wavelength but...yeah. I don’t know if this is too early or too late in a relationship or anything, I just want to be with you.” You’re mumbling the words now, firmly looking away from his gaze which has softened progressively as you’d talked. They probably didn’t even make sense.

“No, no, don’t worry about it. There’s no such thing as the right time, just when we feel it’s right. But...I’d like it. I’ve been thinking about it too, I won’t lie. I always feel bad that I don’t pay anything here even though I spend so much time here but then my rent is more than yours anyway. I agree about finding somewhere new, a little bigger to cope with both of us. And give us somewhere to escape to when we’re annoying each other or something.” Now he’s the one looking away from you, rubbing at his jaw thoughtfully as he thinks.

The smile that begins on your face soon expands rapidly into a giant grin, excitement flooding through your veins along with a mixture of nerves, making it hard for you to stay still. He wanted to move in together! Live together, you were going to live together. Like have your names on a rental agreement and have mail addressed to both of you.

“Oh, and we need to make sure it’s pet friendly for Kasumi.” Hoseok is still talking and you realise he’s been listing what you both should look for in a place. It seems that Hoseok wants to try and find an apartment if possible but he’d prefer a small house given the two of you both have a car. Understandable, given parking in the city was a pain.

There were many occasions when Hoseok had to park a few streets away as the apartment building parking lot was full.

The thought of having a small home with him was even more exciting and you let out a small squeal of happiness. It’s only when Hoseok looks at you with wide eyes, shocked but also amused, that you realise what you’ve done and you look away from him, trying to ignore how you’ve gone hot with embarrassment.

“Oh, that was cute. Definitely cute. Yes, let’s do it. Let’s move in together.” Now he’s the one grinning and you can’t stop yourself from wrapping your arms around him, swaying him as much as you can while sitting on the bed. He lets you with a laugh before groaning as the movement makes his hangover worse.

“Just as long as you don’t decide to show me your helicopter dick every time you get drunk.” You say cheerfully, climbing out of bed to go make some lunch for you both. Already you’re decorating the new place in your mind, planning the perfect combination between you both and deciding what you want to keep from your place and his.

“I’m sorry, my what?”

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writerseven · 4 years

Note

Would you be willing to do a small, darkish story with Ra'sTim? Idk what about but I would love to read one with your style with that pairing!

yes!! i have been wanting to write something with these two for ages, so thanks for the request!

this is sfw because I wasn’t sure how explicit and/or dark you were looking for, but there is some blood, injury, non-consensual touching, and of course ra’s being a creep. and also it's longer than intended because i'm really bad at keeping myself to short word counts. enjoy!

He can’t feel his fingers anymore.

The bite of metal into his wrists is still sharp and vicious, so that’s delightful, but the painful tingling that rocketed through his fingers has died off. If he focuses hard on twitching them, he gets the dullest blip of sensation, but that’s it. Otherwise, his fingers might as well have packed their bags and run away, leaving him to this shit show.

He should probably look up to make sure they aren’t turning black or something. Check on his wrists, too. The scrapes weren’t deep last he looked, but it’s still a less than ideal place to be bleeding from.

His head is just so heavy, though. The damp hair clinging to his face only seems to weight it down further. He doesn’t even have all his pounds of gear on, no cape nor cowl, not even a shirt, but his body has never felt so heavy. In hindsight, giving up on balancing on his toes was a bad decision. His shoulders and wrists are probably unionizing to lodge a formal complaint about having to hold up the entirety of his body.

He’d just...slipped. And he was tired. And he didn’t have the energy to straighten back up.

Tim has been here for...for long enough he’s not quite sure how long he’s been here. Long enough he should probably check on his fingers again, instead of staring at the blood trails down his legs and under his feet. Probably why he slipped. The bright side of being shirtless is he won’t have to throw a stained shirt away, because these pants are definitely goners.

It’s not much of a bright side.

It’s also, Tim won’t lie, kind of insulting that he got stabbed in the abdomen again, in the exact same spot. At least he doesn’t have another spleen to lose, so it’s fine. Probably. Maybe.

He really hopes it’s fine, because dying so soon after he had a beautiful recovery movie-moment of deciding he wanted to live after all would be a little bit annoying. Plus, of everyone to die to, Ra’s so does not deserve the satisfaction.

Speak of the devil.

“Detective.”

Tim jerks in his bonds—not the most well-thought out move. He hisses as the pain in his wrists flares up. For the first time in uncountable hours, he’s struck by enough energy to force himself onto his toes again. He’d rather not look so pathetically dangley in front of Ra’s.

He didn’t even notice the door open. He might be a little light-headed. Probably, he deduces, from all the blood loss and dehydration. (They don’t call him a genius detective for nothing.)

“Good evening,” Ra’s says. When Tim pulls his head up, there’s a hint of amusement to his expression. Bastard.

What did he say, evening? Is it evening now? Tim would have hoped to either come up with a clever escape attempt or be the subject of a heroic rescue by evening. Unless Ra’s is lying about the time to...be a liar. And fool Tim. For nefarious reasons.

He might be over thinking this.

“Could be better,” Tim rasps.

Ra’s looks perfectly put-together as he meanders closer. This has got to make the top five list for Most Fucked Up Tim Has Been, but for all Ra’s’ expression betrays he might be sightseeing in a rose garden. Tim has studied up enough on captivity and torture to know that’s exactly the point, exaggerating the power dynamic, but it’s still fucking irritating.

“Yes, I must admit you look a little pale,” Ra’s says sympathetically. Considering he’s still wearing the body of his sacrificed albino son, even with the dye-job on his hair, it’s just a little bit ironic.

“Probably all the blood loss,” Tim says, out loud this time. (Genius detective.)

Ra’s stops in front of him. Tim has to lift his head all the way up to a normal level—a near insurmountable task—to see the infuriating little smile on his lips as he observes Tim’s wound. He kind of regrets looking when Ra’s takes his gaze on the scenic route up Tim’s torso before meeting his eyes.

Tim scowls. It would probably be more impressive if he didn’t almost forget to hold his neck up for a second.

“If you’d like to come down...”

“I'm not working for you,” Tim snaps.

He can’t feel his fingers. He knows the cuts are shallow, but his wrists still feel half a second from slicing through. His arms periodically zing up and down with pain; his shoulders are screaming; his head is near-impossible to hold up. His toes hurt. His legs shake. The stab wound on his torso has dulled to an ache, which is probably bad news. Honestly, his lungs aren’t feeling swell either. He’s cold in this little stone room, and he has a bit of a sore throat too.

There’s still zero fucking chance he’s letting Ra’s Al Ghul get his claws in.

The Demon’s Head doesn't blink at his denial, used to it by now. If anything, his face softens. “My work is for a better world, Detective. I would never make you do anything immoral. No murders to mar your conscience, if that’s how you prefer it.”

Liar. Tim says nothing. It won’t help him.

Ra’s takes his chin delicately between fingers. Tim is embarrassed to note he’s holding up most of its weight. The rest of his body stays at a thankfully safe distance, though Tim suspects that may have more to do with Ra’s not getting blood on his robes than any decency.

“There are plenty of ways to serve,” Ra’s says. Like spindly legs of a spider, fingers splay over Tim’s chest, palm tantalizingly warm against the bare skin.

Tim tenses. Knowing exactly how much it will hurt and deciding on it anyway, he shoves himself back.

Pain surges along his arms. Tim grits his teeth, barely hearing the rattling chains above over the roar in his ears. With the way he dangles, he rocks back into place right after, feet scrambling for purchase—but his point is made.

Ra’s’ hand drops. For a split-second, Tim swears he’s going to return it and push the issue, but it stays down.

Tim catches his breath as the man steps back. There went all his remaining energy for the day. Or month. He’d like to go back to his dead dangle again. Well, okay, he’d really like to curl up on the floor. He’s just not willing to make a deal with the devil to get it.

Not yet.

Tim blinks, raising his swimming vision just enough to see Ra’s has backed up to the door. His expressions are hard to read regularly, more so when he’s all blurry. Tim gives up.

“Perhaps next time,” Ra’s voice says, distant and annoying—and just a tiny bit beguiling, as Tim hangs and shivers.

The sound of the door closing echoes through the cell, cutting him off from temptation.

#ra'stim #rastim #tim drake #ra's al ghul #i really realize that i don't know the most common tag for like half the ships i write #anyway thanks again anon!#i have uhhhh...many thoughts for longer fic with these two but i keep it tiny for now #7fic #7ask #anon

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violetwolfraven · 3 years

Note

Prompt: "You don't have to hide your tears from me" for Redfinch

Mkay! Angst time! Let’s go!! I’m writing this the week after Valentine’s Day!! Woohoo!!

Anyway this takes pre-canon. So... spoiler alert they do get together later along this timeline, but right now it’s angsty and the boys aren’t together yet.

Tw: mentioned abusive parenting, toxic masculinity, unrequited crush.

...

Finch didn’t really understand blood ties. The concept of owing something to your biological family the way some of the other boys seemed to.

He didn’t understand why Albert, Elmer, and Buttons kept going back to their families even though all three of them always came back tired and usually a bit ticked off at best, genuinely upset at worst.

But then again, Finch didn’t remember his family beyond his father’s fists and his mother’s voice yelling at him. He’d run away when he was 6 and never looked back, and now he only thought of them when he was working through a nightmare or an old scar twinged in the cold weather.

The newsies weren’t exactly a family, he guessed, considering most of them weren’t blood, but they were like one. Better than most families, in some ways, with how Jack and Crutchie took care of the others and though sometimes jokes were at friends’ expense, it was never in a mean way. They were ride or die for each other.

Maybe that was what a family was supposed to be, but Finch knew he’d never seen blood family that was like that. He sure knew that the only people he was ride or die for were the ones he’d chosen.

He really hated seeing the people he’d chosen hurting. Especially when it was because of their so called ‘families.’

He hated seeing when Elmer came back from his parents’ house reserved and quiet, acting surprised when his friends actually paid attention to him, and he hated how exhausted Buttons always was, practically falling asleep on his feet.

But most of all, he hated how defensive and angry Albert always was when he came home from his dad’s house. How he acted for a good couple days afterwards, like any emotion other than anger was weakness.

This morning seemed to be an especially bad day, and everyone could see it. Even Wiesel and the Delanceys wisely avoided antagonizing him too much, knowing by the look in his eyes how bad of an idea it would be to mess with him today. The other newsies were giving him space, and honestly, the fact that they were letting him on the streets today at all was a little questionable.

Finch knew Albert. He knew how that boy’s words could be just as dangerous as his fists, and could get him into more trouble. It was useful sometimes, Albert’s uncanny ability to say exactly the right thing to start a fight. It was good for causing distractions if they were running from someone or to divert away from a topic he or a friend didn’t want to talk about. Finch actually was impressed with how he could always do that without fail.

But he really didn’t feel like helping his friend escape the Refuge again. Not today.

So, after a morning of watching him seethe with anger over... something involving his dad and brothers, Finch pulled him aside in an alley, putting his papes down on a crate and blocking the way out to keep Albert from leaving.

“What’s wrong?”

“What do ya mean ‘what’s wrong?’ Nothin’s wrong. I’m fine.”

Albert tried to shove past him, clearly getting more annoyed when he didn’t let him.

“Move.”

“No,” Finch crossed his arms, “Not till you tell me what’s wrong.”

“We’re gonna miss the mornin’ rush cause you’s seein’ things,” Albert urged, trying to escape again, “Nothin’s wrong, Finch. Move.”

“No.”

“Move!”

“No.”

“Just cause you’s sweet on me don’t mean you gotta care ‘bout my problems,” Albert hissed.

Well, that was... unexpected.

Finch still didn’t know how Albert had even found out about his crush—he hadn’t bothered to ask how—but since that time a month ago where Al tried to kiss him and Finch made it clear that he wouldn’t settle for being his rebound guy, they hadn’t spoken of anything involving that. He was pretty sure Albert had been being his friend as a way to make that incident’s thoughtlessness up to him, but neither of them had actually acknowledged that conversation happened.

Bringing it up now was a dick move. Especially considering Finch could tell Albert was still hurting over Race, because he was still in love with him, because of course he was because Finch’s luck was shit.

Well, at least it looked like it was dawning on Albert—albeit slowly—how much of a dick move that was.

“I shouldn’ta said that. Sorry. Still, move.”

Finch let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and shook his head, “No.”

“Please?”

He was a little surprised to hear him say that, but he still refused to move.

“No,” he insisted. “No, cause I know what you’re gonna do if I let ya leave this alley without talkin’. You’ll just bottle it up like ya always do, and then eventually you’ll snap on somebody and pretend you’re mad when you’re actually scared or sad. And besides the fact that you can’t last like that—it ain’t healthy—that ain’t fair to the others and I’d rather it be me you yell at than one of them.”

Albert scoffed, “I do not bottle—“

“Yes, you do,” Finch interrupted, “And it used to be Race who made ya let it out before ya snapped on someone who couldn’t handle it, but you and him don’t talk no more lately for obvious reasons, so I guess it’s gotta be me.”

It hurt that Albert didn’t trust him enough to talk the way everyone knew he used to with Race, but Finch didn’t let it show. He knew firsthand how secrets could burn holes in you. He himself confided in Henry, Tommy Boy, and Sniper when he needed someone to talk to. And he would like to be able to confide in Albert someday, but...

Trust went both ways. Admittedly, he had trouble with trust some days, so maybe it wasn’t fair that he was asking Albert to trust him.

Maybe he needed to give a little to show it was okay.

“Look, I... I know what it’s like to get hurt by somebody who’s supposed to care ‘bout you,” he admitted, “My mom and pop weren’t exactly... they... I know what I went through ain’t the same as what’s goin’ on with you now, but I’m only gonna ask you one more time: what’s wrong?”

Albert was still staring him down like he thought he could get him to back out, but Finch did see a flicker of surprise at the little piece of his past he’d confessed.

Nobody in Manhattan knew his past. He’d made sure he left all that behind in Flushing. He was sure plenty of the fellas—Albert included—had guessed the general idea, but no matter how bad the nightmares got some times of the year, Finch always tried to focus on just the right now’s problems.

He had that in common with Tommy Boy, Henry, and Sniper. Their ‘just the four of them’ talks always danced around what they were actually upset about, because openly talking about families or parents or home lives, past or present, was just too painful. That was why they gravitated to each other. Because they were the only ones who could figure out what the others meant by what they actually said. Sure, Jack took care of everybody, but he was too busy with taking care of the whole damn borough to have time to figure out their mind games. Crutchie was still trying, but he had duties as one of Manhattan’s seconds, too. Everybody else had either given up or didn’t care enough to try in the first place.

Albert knew all that. Or... he knew how much Finch was letting down his guard, openly telling him even that little.

He gave up on trying to make him back down and looked at the ground with an angry huff.

“It don’t matter, okay? Nothin’ Ben and John ain’t said to me before.”

“So it’s not a problem with your dad?” Finch asked, relieved. Sure, Albert’s brothers were technically adults, but they weren’t a big threat.

He scoffed, “No, of course not. Dad’d have to actually look at me to give me problems. Which he don’t. Practically ever. I remind him too much of Mom, as if that’s my fuckin’ fault.”

The anger in his voice was dripping with sadness, and it broke Finch’s heart. Albert didn’t deserve that.

But that was more of a long-term problem. Right now, it wasn’t what he was most upset about.

“So... Ben and John?”

“Oh, yeah,” Albert said sarcastically, “Y’know, they both had their first sweethearts by the time they was my age, so it’s hilarious to dump on how Albert’s gonna die alone. John’s gonna marry Thea, so it’s a great time to laugh ‘bout me not havin’ anyone to bring to the wedding like how Ben’s got Elizabeth. And it’s all in good fun, so I’m too goddamn defensive for gettin’ mad about it! Yeah, I’m the irrational one despite how I ain’t the one who started it!”

If he was this upset about a few little jabs from his brothers, that meant it wasn’t actually about them at all, and Finch probably should have tried to make him talk before now.

If the heartbreak he was trying to hide by keeping his face turned to the dirt was any indication, this was about Race. And that stung a bit, but it was clearly still burning at Albert.

Finch could deal with his own unreturned feelings. Sure, it hurt, but it was nothing he hadn’t been feeling for months. And he’d gotten rejected before, so it wasn’t anything new.

But Albert had never felt this before. He was volatile and emotional and he didn’t know how to express it any way but with anger because that was how he’d been raised. To his credit, he’d tried to push the others away, knowing his own tendency to lash out, but Finch hadn’t let him push him away.

Finch prided himself on his ability to read people, so he could tell exactly how gone Albert had been over Race. He could tell how much that was hurting him now, how much it was tearing him apart, and...

And Albert was crying.

“Al—“

“Shut up,” Albert snapped, even though his voice trembled.

Three years since he’d come to Manhattan. Finch had seen most of his friends cry in that time, but not Albert.

Admittedly... he wasn’t sure what to do. The others usually gave him a sign whether to leave them alone or try to comfort them, but the thing about Albert was that he craved affection but would never be caught dead admitting it. He hated letting anyone see him as anything other as unshakable even if he was on the verge of collapse.

They were just standing there in that alleyway, a couple feet apart, Albert staring hard at the ground as his shoulders shook and tears dripped off his face and Finch frozen, no clue what to do.

“Al,” he said hesitantly, “It’s okay to cry.”

“No. It ain’t right for a boy.”

“Really?” Finch risked taking a step closer, reaching out a hand slowly.

Albert clearly saw him, but didn’t back away or stop him, allowing Finch put a comforting hand on his arm.

“That ain’t what you told me,” he pointed out, “That time when I woke ya up with a nightmare. You just hugged me till I could breathe again.”

“That was different,” Albert shot back, finally looking back up to look him in the eyes, “You was hurtin’.”

“And you’re not hurtin’ now? Al, look me in the eyes and tell me you’re not breakin’ up inside.”

He didn’t. Or... couldn’t.

“Albert,” Finch said quietly, “You don’t have to hide your tears from me.”

He still looked like he wanted to hide them, but instead, he leaned forward, kind of head-butting Finch in the shoulder except he left his face there, his tears soaking through the fabric.

Finch would be lying if he said that his heart didn’t skip a beat at the contact but he shook it off, focusing on how that was a pretty clear signal that this was okay.

“It’s okay, Al,” Finch whispered, wrapping his arms around him.

He didn’t say that it would get better or that Albert would find someone else who’d love him back. He knew that saying those things didn’t make heartbreak any better.

Just being there, being a friend, being a shoulder to cry on, was better for now.

#newsies #redfinch #albert dasilva #finch cortes #angst #toxic masculinity tw #abusive parents tw #unrequited crush tw #violet’s writing

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kulaykape · 4 years

Text

Ina Kingsley x MC: Receiving Gifts

This is the longest one yet 😳 but I've been wanting to put it out for a while so here it is 😁

Tags: @nydeiri @thepotatobleh

•••

"What, you think I forgot?"

Rarely was Ina Kingsley appreciative of her status as 'Professor Dreamy'. This was one of those times.

Thank god that these Belvoire brats were rich kids. That meant, at this time of year, all the starry-eyed students harboring crushes on her would pull out all the stops for the perfect Christmas gift.

Ina was currently munching on a To'ak chocolate bar. Which, she didn't know what the hell was until Chloe St. James told her it was the most expensive chocolate in the world as she presented it to her. Definitely not worth two hundred dollars in Ina's opinion, but she wasn't about to complain. The benefits of being deemed the hottest professor on campus were far and few between, so Ina was going to take all the dubs thrown her way.

One of those dubs being the Golden Ticket candy bar sitting in a gift bag under her desk. Was it really that well-known that Ina had a weakness for sweets?

A knock on Ina's door made her start, and she scrambled to stow away the overpriced chocolate. "Uh, c-come in!" She called, checking her watch. Only one person ever came into her office at this hour.

"H-hey, Professor K-Kingsley," Aliyah greeted her as she stepped into the office. The first thing Ina noticed was how she was shivering so hard that she might as well have been trying to escape her own skin.

"Aliyah!" Ina stood up and quickly made her way over, "Christ, you know it's in the negatives outside, right?" She cupped the side of Aliyah's neck before she even knew what she was doing, and winced at the biting cold she was met with.

"I d-do now," Aliyah said, tone drier than her lips. She didn't even have the energy to react to Ina's warm skin against her neck, partly because she could barely feel anything. She started to shed her coat, but Ina stopped her.

"Leave that on for now, else you'll be the next boy in the iceberg," she said.

Aliyah's jaw dropped. "Ina K-Kingsley, was that an Avatar reference I just heard?!" She practically screeched as Ina led her to the fireplace by the armchairs. Damn, were all the professor offices pimped out like this? This woman wasn't even tenured.

Ina gave her a small smile. "My geekier side tends to come out when I'm in a good mood," she replied.

Aliyah smiled right back as she plopped down in an armchair, and started to brush snow off her nose. "Uh oh, Christmas fever?" She suggested.

"You could say that," Ina gestured behind her to her desk. Aliyah could see gifts overflowing from beneath Ina's desk, where she'd probably hidden them for the sake of good sportsmanship with the other professors.

The younger woman's smile faltered a bit as she glanced down at her backpack. "Shit," she muttered under her breath. She'd forgotten that she'd be faced with so much competition around Belvoire.

"Aliyah?" Ina asked softly. Aliyah's head snapped up.

"Yeah, sorry," she said as she started reaching into her backpack, and then pulled out two thermoses. She'd start small. But apparently not too small, as a grin practically burst onto Ina's face when she realized what she was holding out. "Merry Christmas?" Aliyah asked, smile sheepish.

"You're the most wonderful person I've ever met," Ina said as she took a mug gingerly from Aliyah. And her tone was joking, but Aliyah still felt her face grow hot (which was honestly a welcomed feeling, seeing as she was a literal ice cube at the moment). This was supposed to be the part where Ina went 'what I meant was…' but it never came.

"Oh god," Ina groaned as she took a sip, "Now I know what heaven tastes like."

Aliyah couldn't help but laugh. It was almost ridiculous how good of a mood this woman was in. "What, the thousand dollar chocolates and pearl necklaces don't do it for you?" She asked. Please say no, she thought.

"It was two hundred dollar chocolate, mind you," Ina pointed out with a smirk. Aliyah jerked back in that sarcastic 'my bad' gesture. "And not to say that I'm ungrateful for them, they just… don't possess the same level of sincerity."

"'Cause they bought it with daddy's money?" Aliyah asked.

Ina nodded, and Aliyah relaxed. "Because they bought it with daddy's money," she confirmed, and the two women shared a laugh as they drank Aliyah's (patented) red velvet hot chocolate. "I'm surprised you haven't left for the holidays yet. Almost nobody is in school these last couple of days," Ina quipped.

"Well, there's not exactly anyone for Leon and me to visit," Aliyah replied offhandedly, not realizing how morbid that sounded to Ina, who frowned. "What about you, Professor 'Anthropology is the love of my life'? You gonna leave this office any time soon?" She asked.

Ina blushed profusely. "Am I really that bad?"

"You're horrible, honestly," Aliyah said, even though her grin translated into 'you're wonderful, and I have the fattest crush on you'.

"I myself am not traveling, but my sister and my niece are coming up from Boston for the break," she said with a wistful smile. Charlotte was going to go insane when she saw her Christmas present.

Wait a minute… present.

Shit!

Ina started in her seat, lurching towards her desk. Then she paused. Aliyah shot her the most confused look Ina had ever seen. "Now would really not be a good time to have a seizure Ina, I'm tired," she said. Ina refused the urge to roll her eyes as she looked at her desk.

Had she brought Aliyah's present? Yes, of course, she'd been keeping it in her desk so she wouldn't forget.

…Should she give it to her right now and send her on her merry way home? (pun intended)

Selfless Ina said yes, she had a little brother and some good friends to spend time with. Selfish Ina said no, keep her here as long as you can. Neutral Ina decided to listen to Selfish Ina for once.

Ina cleared her throat as she settled back in her seat, "Sorry about that." Aliyah's brows bounced up in that unconvinced manner as she took a sip of Heaven's Hot Chocolate.

"So, what all did the student body pour on top of you in gifts?" Aliyah asked. She'd heard murmurs around campus of ideas from other students. She wondered if that one guy had actually followed through on buying Ina lingerie…

Ina tapped her chin in thought. "Plenty of chocolate, some jewelry, perfumes, gift cards," her face twisted oddly, and Aliyah was laughing before she'd even said it, "One student got me some… ahem… bedroom wear."

Aliyah was wheezing like a deflating balloon as she slapped her knee. "You can say lingerie, Ina," she managed to say. It's not like I haven't seen yours before.

"I wouldn't go so far as to call it lingerie," Ina replied, before stalking over to her desk and pulling a bag out from underneath. Aliyah started wheezing again when Ina held up some kind of abomination to her. "If I was any less compassionate, I would've thrown it back in his face," Ina said.

For God's sake, the thing was yellow and green. It looked like something that would be sold at Babies R Us, but someone took it and then tried to make it sexy. Ina was holding it gingerly by the hems, like just touching it was messing up her sexual mojo.

"Oh my god, put it away, put it away," Aliyah flapped her hand towards her. Ina laughed as she did just that. "Jesus, did he think he'd come back to school after break to see you wearing it just for him?" She asked.

Ina smiled in good nature. "Well, it's not like he could have known I favor warmer colors," she quipped.

Aliyah smirked under her thermos. "Actually, purple's considered a cool color," she replied. Ina shot her a challenging look from her desk, and Aliyah was surprised to see it lacked the typical sternness of Professor Kingsley. Her brow was arched sharply, and Aliyah swore she could see a hint of a smile playing on her lips…

…Wait, was she playing coy with her?!

"Anyway, you need to try this chocolate Chloe St. James got," Ina said as she sauntered back over, packet of To'ak in hand.

Cheap instincts kicking in, Aliyah leaned away from the forsaken bar. "I swear, I'll deserve to go to hell if I ever eat some two-hundred dollar chocolate," she said.

Ina rolled her eyes as she set a square piece down in front of Aliyah. The younger woman would have gagged if it didn't… you know, actually look pretty good. "You've accumulated enough blessings in your life to deserve a piece of overpriced chocolate, Ali," Ina said.

'Aliyah' was the only term of acknowledgement Aliyah had ever heard from Ina, and so her head snapped up when she stopped one syllable short. She really was feeling loose.

Aliyah picked the chocolate square up off the table, appraising it suspiciously. "If I have to see the devil when I bite the dust, I'm blaming it on you," she said, before popping the piece in her mouth.

Ina leaned forward, waiting impatiently for an explosive reaction. Instead, she was met with the most unimpressed side-eye God could have made possible on anyone's face.

"Wow," Aliyah drawled, "It tastes like chocolate."

"Hard to impress as ever, hm?" Ina asked. Aliyah shook her head as she gulped the piece down.

She wasn't about to admit it, but that definitely was the best chocolate she'd ever had in her short life. By a mile. "I'm actually embarrassingly easy to impress," she admitted, "It's just that overpriced chocolate isn't the right angle."

Ina tapped her chin in thought, narrowing her eyes as she scrutinized the woman before her. A smile slowly creeped onto her face. "Let me guess. A fast food restaurant date where you don't have to pay?" She suggested.

If that had come from anyone else, Aliyah might have actually been annoyed. But since it came from Ina, she threw her head back and laughed. "Well… are you offering?" She asked.

"Would that be a satisfactory Christmas present?" Ina countered.

Aliyah hummed contemplatively, while the little devil on her shoulder screeched 'hell yes!' Hell, Ina could offer to take her dumpster diving, and she'd say yes. "I mean, it'd be rude of me to say no to such a generous present…"

Ina chuckled as she rose from her armchair and started for her desk. Aliyah's gaze followed her curiously. "I'll keep that in mind for another time, then," she replied, "But for now, I'm hoping this will do."

When she made her way back over, she was holding a small gift bag out to Aliyah. Aliyah stared at it, wide-eyed. "You didn't," she said. Ina laughed a little nervously.

"Except I did," she replied, "Merry Christmas, Ali."

With the most cautious touch, Aliyah took the gift. To be honest, she'd gotten into a habit of forgetting that you were supposed to receive gifts as well as you give them during Christmas.

A grin slowly broke out onto her face, that mischievous one that made Ina anxious but also… other less than appropriate things. Aliyah shed her coat before unzipping her backpack, and pulling out a rather clumsily wrapped rectangular package. "Do not make fun of the wrapping," she said sternly.

Ina laughed as she took the gift graciously, "You really didn't have to."

"Except I did," Aliyah replied with a smirk, "Merry Christmas, Ina." She looked back down at the gift bag, shaking it slightly. "Open at the same time?"

"Sure."

"1… 2… 3," Aliyah popped the bag open while Ina tore away the wrapping (Aliyah didn't totally know why, but that made her kinda upset… she'd spent, like, an hour trying to wrap that thing). Aliyah's jaw dropped first, and then she laughed as she pulled the first thing out. "You weren't kidding about getting me a mug," she said as she held the '#1 TA' coffee mug up to the light.

"Of course I wasn't," Ina replied as she tossed the wrapping she'd pulled off on the coffee table. Her eyes promptly widened as she stared down at the half-visible gift.

Aliyah peered up at her nervously. She wasn't sure if that expression was one of positive or negative awe. "Ina…?" She asked carefully.

Ina breathed out a laugh as she pulled the rest of the wrapping off, and held the book tightly. "I can't believe you did this," Ina said, grinning. She held up the copy of The Tailend of Humanity (some old book that mashed sci-fi with anthropology; right up Ina’s alley) with a near reverent gaze.

"What, you think I forgot?" Aliyah replied with a cocky smirk. Chloe St. James and her overpriced chocolate could kiss. Her. Ass. 'Cause Aliyah had never seen Ina smile so wide.

"How did you even get a hold of this?" Ina asked, "There are only twenty copies!"

"Uh, I got one of them, duh," Aliyah replied, "Had to haggle with some guy down on Sixth for a few hours, but it was worth it. Plus, he had a signature in there." Aliyah gestured to the inside of the book cover. Ina had never flipped a book open so fast.

Yep. That was the author's name alright, written in his unmistakable cursive hand. "You really remembered my whole lamentful spiel about losing this book?" Ina asked.

"Well, that spiel included your apartment burning down," Aliyah replied pointedly, "I wasn't exactly gonna forget that." Ina shot her an amused smirk, and Aliyah gave her a wink. "Sooo… is it better than the green and yellow lingerie?"

Ina threw her head back and laughed, before setting the leather-bound book on the coffee table and sitting down next to Aliyah. "That has to be one of the best gifts I've gotten in the past years," she said. Fireworks set off in Aliyah's head. She was honestly winning so hard.

Ina gestured to the gift bag at Aliyah's feet. "There's one more thing in there that I think you'll appreciate," she quipped.

Would she though…? The doubtful persona in her head asked, I mean, you're definitely gonna look like the materialistic one here. Ina told that particular facet of herself to shut the hell up before she could get too far in her own head.

Aliyah raised a brow suspiciously as she picked the bag back up, and it did indeed still have a little bit of weight. "Two presents? You're spoiling me," she said.

"You deserve to be," Ina replied fearlessly. Aliyah's face flushed red as she turned her gaze back to the bag.

Slowly, as if she thought she was taking out the wrong gift, Aliyah pulled out a long, thin jewelry case. The younger woman looked up at Ina with a wide, doe-eyed gaze. "Ina, what is this?" She asked, bewildered.

"Open it," Ina urged her in reply. And Aliyah did exactly that, and holy shit, that was a nice necklace. She actually gasped, and would've been embarrassed for it (and Ina also would've teased her to no end) if she wasn't so busy marveling at the piece.

Aliyah lifted the silver chain out of the case and let it spill into her hands. Jesus Christ, did it look expensive. Ina had gone from Aliyah's chemistry-fired infatuation to her damn near sugar mama in a New York second.

A flicker of recognition passed over Aliyah's face the longer she marveled at it. Her head snapped up and she looked at Ina. "This looks…"

"An awful lot like the necklace you had that Bea Hughes snapped?" Ina suggested, "Well, I didn't remember exactly what it looked like, but I tried to get as close as possible." For a moment, Aliyah couldn't even remember her propriety and say thank you.

Bea goddamn Hughes had some nerve. Aliyah couldn't quite recall what had been said, but she more than vividly remembered Hughes reaching up and snatching the chain clean off of her neck. She was nearly impressed.

But then she also vividly remembered giving that girl a black eye, and threatening to knock her out so hard her soul flew back to Farmsville. Ina had stopped her before she could uphold that promise.

"Here, let me," Ina shifted behind Aliyah, holding her hand out for the necklace. Aliyah snapped back into non-violent consciousness, and fumbled to give the necklace to Ina.

"That necklace meant a lot to me," Aliyah said as Ina brushed the hair away from the back of her neck.

Ina hummed thoughtfully. "I could tell. I'd never seen you so absolutely livid before," she replied as she brought both arms around Aliyah's shoulders. Neither of them were ignorant to Aliyah's sharp intake of breath.

She smells good, she smells really good, why does she smell so good? Aliyah thought as Ina's perfume wafted incessantly into her nostrils. She could feel the warmth radiating off of Ina, the lapels of her blazer just brushing her back. Aliyah wished she would hurry and put that necklace on, before she started thinking with something besides her head.

Ina's fingertips brushed the back of her neck, eliciting goosebumps as she worked to clip the necklace into place. "There. Hopefully it's a worthy enough replacement?" She asked as she shifted beside Aliyah again.

Aliyah touched the necklace, and smiled down at the silver as it winked in the fireplace light. She looked up at Ina again, whose fingers were caressing her hand absently. Dark brown eyes crinkled at her in a subtle, knowing smile. Aliyah was powerless to resist smiling back.

"You're perfect," Aliyah said. Ina's eyes widened. "I-I mean, it's perfect! It's awesome!" She stuttered as her face turned the reddest shade of red on the color spectrum. Aliyah cleared her throat gruffly, ignorant to the small smile plastered on Ina's face.

"I'm glad you think so," Ina replied mercifully, before checking her watch. She frowned slightly as she realized that this Cinderella night was about to come to an end. "It's getting late. You should head home before your brother starts to get worried," she continued.

"He's with my uncle right now," Aliyah replied. Well, not really her uncle uncle, but everybody was your uncle when you were Filipino.

But why did she say that? Ina was either compassionately giving her a way out of this, or telling her to get the hell out now, and Aliyah was a useless lesbian who couldn't tell which one it was. But it only took her a moment to decide that there was one more thing she wanted to do before she left…

"Hey, uh, I've got one more present for you," Aliyah quipped. Ina cocked a brow curiously.

"Oh? And what might that be?"

Aliyah's eyes darted not so subtly to her lips, and Ina had her glasses on, so she saw it. The younger woman bit her lip pensively, but Ina's hand squeezing her granted her the necessary confidence. Slowly, she leaned in…

Aliyah hovered not even half an inch away from Ina's lips, their breaths one and the same. "May I?" She asked softly. Ina's eyes met hers underneath her long lashes. For a long moment, the two of them only stared at each other. Contemplating, waiting.

"Please," Ina finally replied. Aliyah's eyes creased in a hidden smile before she leaned forward, lips just barely brushing against Ina's. Ina's breath caught, and the hand on top of Aliyah's shifted to her waist. "Come here," Ina demanded, pulling Aliyah towards her and crashing her lips against hers.

"Mm…" Aliyah smiled against Ina's lips, dragging her hands up her arms and into her brown hair. Something had cracked in Ina, and Aliyah could see it through the light filtering through now. "Ina…"

After a long, long moment, Ina finally tore away with a gasp. Her eyes stared wide and lost at the floor, as if she’d just committed the indefinitely worst taboo. Aliyah watched her face expectantly...

And like clockwork, it slowly grew cold again.

"I… I can't. I just can't. I’m sorry," Ina said, "Aliyah… I think it's time you headed home."

Aliyah let out a mirthless laugh, practically tearing her hand away from Ina as she stood. Ina winced as the air around Aliyah shifted. She didn't so much as spare Ina a look as she scooped her jacket up into the crook of her arm and slung her bag over her shoulder.

Only when she was at the door of Ina's office did she look back at her. Aliyah’s eyes were glassy with what she would say was frustration. Ina stomach tightened painfully. "You need to figure your shit out, Ina. You're about as decisive as a horny high school sophomore," she spat, “If I wanted to be your little college girl plaything, I would’ve just told you so. This isn’t fair.”

Ina flinched at the sting, and then once more as the door slammed shut behind Aliyah. Neither of them saw the other as Aliyah brushed her fingers over the necklace and let out a sorry whimper, or as Ina ripped her glasses off and threw them across her office.

But, Dammit! They both thought.

~end~

#ina kingsley #professor kingsley #ina x mc #queen b #i love one (1) dorky nerd #that sexting scene left me dryer than a desert

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howtowhumpyourhiccup · 3 years

Text

Winter Whumperland Day 8: Lucky

Summary: Written for Winter Whumperland Day 8. Set in a Modern AU, follows up on Day 7 'Delirium'. There was the chance meeting in that coffee shop, but it is one late evening in early June that Hiccup's life takes a sudden turn for the worse.

Rating: Mature

Characters: Hiccup, Astrid, Snotlout, Toothless, Ryker, Viggo

Pairing: Vigcup, past-Hiccstrid

Words: 4 464

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: “Obsessive whumper”

Whumpee: Hiccup (and Toothless in a way)

Author’s Notes: This was supposed to be up already, but I got very distracted by Attack on Titan. I finished my rewatch and I had 3 episodes of season 4 that I needed to catch up on and then I got very distracted by the reactors I follow that I know watch this show, too.

Constructive criticism is appreciated! Including on the tags!

Enjoy!

Ao3

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There was the chance meeting in that coffee shop, but it is one late evening in early June that Hiccup's life takes a sudden turn for the worse.

It's late when he returns home from work. He's completely drained after being on his feet all day and when he steps in through the front door, what he longs for most is to kick off his shoes and prosthetic and crash onto the couch.

Someone has other ideas, as he can tell by the stomping footsteps coming up from behind him as he closes the front door.

They halt, one slipper tapping impatiently on the carpeted floor, and Hiccup knows he's in trouble. He slowly turns to see one furious Astrid Hofferson.

She'd come the second she heard the door open and she'd jumped off the couch to catch him and block his way to the living room. Her blonde hair is undone and lays comfortably on her shoulder.

"Uh, good evening? Milady?" He greets her hesitantly, deciding that a polite approach is probably a better idea than a sassy one.

"What took you so long? You were supposed to clock out two hours ago!" Astrid crosses her arms, a hip out, and awaits a good excuse. He hasn't even called her to let her know that he would be later or anything!

Hiccup puffs out a nervous breath as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, unsure what to tell her. Upon seeing this, Astrid lets out an agitated sigh, reeling with her boyfriend's thoughtless decision-making.

"Viggo again?" She asks with a hard tone and he knows there is no denying it. Besides, she'd know if he was lying. So he nods honestly instead and she's already throwing her hands up.

"He came by at the coffee shop for a game of chess and I thought I'd entertain him for a little while!" Hiccup hurriedly replies, already imagining Astrid's disappointment in him.

"For two whole hours?!" Her voice raises, she's not too impressed.

"Ugh, yeah..."

"Hiccup, I can't believe you!" She expresses her disbelief before turning on her heels to return to the living room.

"He's obviously a lonely man, Astrid! He just wants some company and a listening ear once in a while!" He tries to reason with her as he follows her to the other room, where Snotlout is sitting on the couch.

Viggo just comes across as a lonely man to him. No partner, no kids, no friends outside of business, and a brother he rarely sees eye to eye with. It makes him want to take at least a few minutes out of his time to spend on him.

"Once in a while, he comes by almost every day, Hiccup! Today, he swallowed up two hours of your time! And after work, too!" Halting before the television, Astrid spins on her heels again to face Hiccup. "Hiccup Haddock, I know you're not a pushover, but somehow this guy gets you to let him walk all over you."

Snotlout should be annoyed that he can no longer watch the tv, the bickering couple interrupting his watch, but that matters little to him

"Heh, Viggo again, Hiccup?" He asks, finding amusement in that fact.

"You know, Hiccup, if you'd rather spend time with some lonely middle-aged dude then your own girlfriend, maybe you should go hook up with him. We'll question your kinks and tastes, though." He adds with a chuckle.

"Not funny, Snot." The couple tells him and Hiccup sighs afterward, awkwardly moving from one foot to another once more. He's tired and his leg hurts and he doesn't like fighting with Astrid. And to make matters worse, he has some news, too. It's not bad news, but he wonders if it'll be received well after Astrid's reaction.

She stands there, fuming, and she probably has plenty of reason to be. His not calling her to let her know where he's at, spending his after work hours with someone who is a virtual stranger to her, who is a creep in her eyes, pushing his own needs aside for someone who clearly has no eye out for his, ... Yup, plenty of reasons. And he might just be about to make it worse.

"Also... I won't be able to sleep here tonight." But it's better to just come out and sat it, so he tells her, his arms crossing.

"And why is that?" Astrid asks, not too pleased. It's Friday evening, she'd hoped to spend at least a little bit of time with him. You know, the time Viggo hasn't selfishly taken for himself yet.

"Well, Toothless came to find me again. I saw him sitting on the rooftop when I got back and... Well, see for yourself." Hiccup gestures towards a rather large window on one side of the room and Snotlout and Astrid look over to find the Night Fury there, watching them through the glass. He's sitting on the fire escape and looks very much like a cat expecting to be let in.

Finally seen, he yowls, wondering what's taking them so long. Hiccup has known all along that he's there, why is he making him wait?

"Oh, the neighbors are going to love this." Astrid groans, cringing at the sound. Snotlout covers his ears.

"Oh, I'm sure they will, which is why I'm dropping off my uniform and going back downstairs to meet him. I'll fly him back to the sanctuary and spent the night at my mom's because I'm-"

"Dead tired from all the work you've done? With a prosthetic?" Astrid cuts him off as she finishes his sentence for him. It's not like she thinks he can't do the same work someone else can, but Hiccup's reality is that standing on his feet all day will make him more exhausted than it would make an abled person. Astrid is aware of this, she just wishes Hiccup would be a little more self-aware from time to time.

Mouth still open, Hiccup stares at her for a moment.

"Uh, yeah, that. But anyway, I'll let you know in the morning if I'll be back tomorrow or Sunday evening." He lets her and Snotlout know before heading over to the bedroom he shares with Astrid.

He's been holding the uniform in his hands. It consists of a dark brown apron and a little hat that feels like paper, though they're all pretty sure it's not made out of paper. He hangs them both up on the coatrack hanging from their bedroom door.

When he comes back into the living room, Astrid is standing before him again.

"Okay, but I doubt he brought a saddle, so will you at least be careful?" She asks of him, still exasperated, but him spending time with Toothless is far better than the alternative, which is the middle-aged man seemingly clinging to a young adult. A young adult who isn't quite 20 yet, no less.

"Of course, Milady, when am I not?" Hiccup asks her with a smile, feeling like they are on slightly better terms now. He'll make it up to her somehow, he doesn't want her feeling like she comes second to some guy he's only known for a few weeks.

Sighing deeply, Astrid comes over and plants her lips on his for a kiss. They don't have any space in their home for a dragon as big as a Night Fury. So, unfortunately, she has no other choice but to let him go. Hiccup returns it wholeheartedly, heart skipping a beat in joy. When does she not make him happy?

When they pull away, Astrid pulls on his hoodie, straightening it out.

"Are you sure that's warm enough for the trip?" She asks him, knowing he gets cold easily. He's about the only person she knows who can still wear long sleeves in the summer. The amount of layers this man needs to get through the colder months is insane.

"I think I'll manage."

"That's not a good answer, Haddock, and you know that."

Snotlout groans in the background at seeing the affection, head rolling back, but they mostly ignore him. So he groans louder on purpose.

"How can I stand living with you two?" He questions when they look over, neither too happy with his interruption.

Toothless yowls again outside and someone shouts at "the big cat" to be quiet.

"Geez, impatient much?" Hiccup mutters under his breath and gestures to his dragon to get down from the fire escape. He should get going before Toothless gets them all kicked out of here.

"Again, be careful. And oh, don't forget to call when you arrive and tell your mom we said "hi"." Astrid quickly says as Hiccup heads for the door.

"I will! I'll see you guys later, Snotlout, Milady." At that last one, he shoots Astrid a quick smile.

Snotlout lets his head roll back again and-

"If you groan one more time, it's off to bed with you."

It takes a quick ride on the elevator down, but Hiccup is outside soon enough. It's summer and that means the air is cooler then it is during the day, but not quite cool enough. Even so, Hiccup pulls on his hoodie to cover as much of his collarbone and neck as it can before he looks up towards the top of the building.

"Bud?!" He calls out excitedly, expecting to be tackled by a dragon much bigger and much heavier than him in the next few seconds. He's bracing himself, it could come from any direction...

But instead, there is no response.

Strange.

"Bud!" Hiccup calls out again, didn't he hear him the first time? Dragons of his kind usually have a good hearing. Or he ignoring his calls? Making him wait because it's been so long since he's come by for a visit? He hates admitting it, but work has been kicking his ass. It's hard to do anything on most days and even during most weekends he finds himself in need of the mere two days of rest he can get.

"It's because you haven't worked a day in your life, son, you'll get used to it." Hiccup can hear his father say in his head and he can still feel the need to roll his eyes. He's worked! At the sanctuary and only what he was allowed to do, but he's done stuff before!

"Toothless?!" Moving from the sidewalk to between two parked cars to hopefully get a better view of the roof, Hiccup tries again, but gets no answer this time either. He was hoping to at least see some earfins pop up by now.

"Really, Toothless? Is this the time to play hide and seek?" Hiccup mutters to himself. He knows his dragon misses him terribly when they're not together, he misses him, too, but now's not the time. He's tired and he would like to fly back to the sanctuary already.

Checking the road behind him and finding the street empty for the moment, Hiccup cautiously takes another step or two back. In this part of the city, people usually don't drive as fast as they can in the busier parts. And at this hour, not too many cars come by either.

"Toothless, seriously?!" He calls up again, keeping a careful eye and ear out on either side of him. Don't tell him he's stuck on the fire escape again.

"Are you stuck?! Do I need to come get you?!" Hiccup asks, never losing sight of the street he's on. It's still quiet so far, no approaching lights, no roaring engines.

Finally, Toothless calls back to him and the call sounds far, so he must still be in the fire escape after all. Sighing, Hiccup figures he may as well look.

It's at that moment, probably by pure dumb luck, that a dark car with no plates and tinted windows comes speeding from around the corner.

Driving at speeds way, way above the limit, the car can't possibly be avoided. Hiccup sees it coming, has only seconds to stare into the blinding headlights as they come too fast, and there's nothing he can do but get hit.

The front of the vehicle hits his right side with full force first and he ends up on the hood for a brief moment. It all happens so fast, before long he rolls onto the pavement and is left to lie there on the ground. The collision broke some of his ribs, hurt his hip, dislocated his bad knee, bruised his wrists, scraped him all over, and he'll be a lucky man if that is all a hit from such speeds leaves him with.

Body hurting and unable to move, all Hiccup can do is groan. He can't get up like this. Who and why would just run him over like this? His head hurts, he must've knocked it on the ground.

After the hit, the car screeches to a halt and a man steps out. When he comes over, Hiccup can't see who it is, can barely turn his head to the approaching footsteps. When he tries, another pained groan leaves him. He can taste the metallic tang of blood on his tongue.

Everything is too much for his aching head, too much to process. He's on the verge of passing out, it's becoming black before his eyes.

The man who mowed him down stands over him. Hiccup can't see his face, but if he could, he'd see the satisfied look of another job well done. He's grabbed by his arms and pulled towards the car. Hiccup cringes at the unnecessary additional abuse his body must endure.

"W-wait... What're you... Why?" He can't struggle against him, can't keep the man from dragging him towards the car, it's taking him everything not to pass out.

When they reach the car, the trunk is opened and Hiccup is picked up and unceremoniously dropped inside. His body is in agony and he would've shouted if his ribs allowed it, but his apparent kidnapper doesn't seem to care much. If anything, he huffs and the trunk closes, bathing Hiccup in darkness.

What just happened to him? For whatever reason, whether it be the shock or the pain, he still can't move.

While this is happening, Toothless is, indeed, stuck. A fire escape isn't meant for dragons, let alone a dragon his size, nothing in a city is. This is a place for humans, which is why he thought to drag Hiccup back home himself. He wasn't coming of his own volition, so Toothless had to come and see what was taking him so long. But when he gets up to meet with his friend, he finds his tail to be stuck in the railing.

It's a hindrance and it's more annoying than a real problem. He can solve this without needing Hiccup's help, he just needs to be careful not to damage the replacement tailfin he so carefully crafted for him.

Murring impatiently as he tries to find the right angle to do this from, Astrid and Snotlout are watching him from the window, both concerned. From the corner of his eyes, he can see Astrid mouth something and she's gesturing in a way that's supposed to be helping him, but he doesn't quite get it. He's only half-looking, too.

On the other side of the building, Hiccup is calling for him and Toothless calls back once to tell him he's still coming. He just needs to be a little more patient and then he'll be there.

But then he hears a screeching that sounds like a noise one of those large metal contraptions the humans ride on would make. It's an awful sound to his ears, but not as alarming as the noise of a heavy thing hitting something not even a quarter of that thing's weight. And all of that is followed by a noise of pain Toothless is all too familiar with.

Was that Hiccup? Is someone hurting him?

Toothless knows that he needs to see what's happening and he all but tears himself free, the carefully refined leather hooking onto something metal sticking out and ripping. He hurries up the rest of the fire escape up on the roof, climbing the outside expertly like only a cat of his size and strength can, he'll be able to see more from there.

A disability has only affected his speed and agility so much, Hiccup can largely be thanked for that. As someone who is missing a leg, he knows a thing or two about loss. He reaches the roof quickly and he thinks to check the front of the building first, where the noises came from. What he sees confuses him, however.

There's a human male taking his friend and putting him in the back of that metal deathtrap.

His knowledge of humans and their strange behaviors only goes so far and he doesn't know what the intention here is, just that he doesn't like it. This screams "bad" to him and he growls in anger, claws scraping on the bricked walls. Someone is taking his rider away.

The male then gets into the "car", as they're called, and he can hear it revving to life. That's when Toothless knows it's now or never.

He's a Night Fury, leaping off tall things isn't anything new to him, so he takes a chance. He doesn't yet realize that his prosthetic tailfin is torn and that it will hinder him greatly in his pursuit. He wants to land on the vehicle itself, scare the driver, rip him out, and then get Hiccup out. His mate and that small friend of his are in their communal den. If he's loud enough, he can get them to come down and see. In the meantime, he can make sure the bigger male can't touch the car again and that he's too incapacitated to get away, too.

That's the plan, thought up in a matter of a second or two and he commits to it, he takes the leap. Except with a rip in his tailfin and the car moving away at the same time, all Toothless manages to do is scratch up the back and take the rear bumper right off.

Inside the trunk, Hiccup is almost startled to full alertness with his dragon's claws scraping above him and taking a part of the vehicle with him. There's a man's muffled cursing and what a mouth he has on him.

It takes Toothless a second too long to realize that he's holding just a piece of the car instead of the whole thing.

Did he just fail? A Night Fury isn't supposed to fail, if anything, they're supposed to be the pride of dragons! And he just failed his human?

He looks behind him, sees the tear in the cloth Hiccup made for him. He's lost his advantage and now he can't fly after the car either! He wished he'd jumped on time instead of too late, wished he'd thought to jump in front of it, too! If he'd just aimed right, he would've landed on the car instead of just snatching the rear bumper.

All that's left for him now is to chase. He's still plenty fast on the ground, he can leap, he'll find some other way to stop the damn thing. A plasma blast will land him in serious trouble, but that's not even high on the number of things he's willing to do to get Hiccup back.

They're not far, he can still see them.

But then another car comes from around the corner. They aren't driving particularly fast, but finding a dragon in your path is a startling thing and Toothless is startled in return. They almost block his path, nearly driving into the car parked nearby. Then a second comes and a third and they all screech to a halt, honking and yelling in surprise. They do nothing but hinder him in a city that's already too loud and unwelcoming and chaotic for a dragon.

Toothless has to evade them, doing whatever he can to just not get accidentally hit as he chases after his friend. He jumps onto a parked car, trying to spot the one that took Hiccup.

It's nowhere to be found.

Hiccup can hear it as he slips away, the miserable cries of a dragon in distress with cars honking in the distance, both deafeningly loud.

"I'm here, Bud, I'm... I'm here..." His words of reassurance fade as he falls unconscious, losing the fight to stay awake.

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Pain. That's what Hiccup wakes up to hours later. An immeasurable amount of pain and the inability to breathe properly as his ribs are keeping him from it.

He groans miserably, feeling awful after someone came speeding down a relatively calm street to run him over. His head is a little slow in catching up on the events that landed him in this situation, but his body has a great memory. He hurts so much, there isn't a part of him that isn't in agony.

There are voices and an unfamiliar hand lays itself on his forehead. Is he in the hospital? Is there are a doctor or a nurse checking up on him? Oh, can they please give him something for the pain? He woke up only moments ago and he wants so desperately for it to end.

"You wanted him, now here he is." One of the voices breaks through the haze in his mind, the first words he's managing to register so far. Why does his head pound? Why is everything pounding?

He remembers headlights.

"And you felt like you had to run him over, did you?" Run over who? Can either of these two give him something to kill the pain? Or an explanation would be nice, too.

He groans louder, hoping to ask for help, but no coherent words leave him. That hand is in his hair now. Care is nice and all, but it would be much nicer if they could pick up on what he's trying to beg for here.

"You could've killed him on the spot! He might even still succumb to his injuries." No wait, that voice is familiar to him. The other one he doesn't recognize, but this one rings a vague bell. Hiccup has to open his eyes and take a look.

"Don't get my hopes up."

There are two men that he can see through a blurred vision and a dim light that's still a nightmare on his headache. He can't recognize one of them.

The other one, however...

"V...Vi... ggo?" Hiccup asks, voice hoarse. It's the first word that he manages to croak out. What's he doing in the hospital with him? Now that he thinks of it, where is Astrid? Snotlout? He can't remember if Fishlegs and the twins were home.

An image of Toothless flashes before his mind. He was there, wasn't he? Where is he now?

"you're awake, good, I was starting to worry," Viggo tells him, looking down at him with a look that isn't quite as caring as those words would suggest.

Hiccup blinks slowly in surprise.

"Where... What are you doing here? Where am I? Toothless is... What happened?" The questions are slow to leave him, but he's starting to catch up a little. He's not quite as awake as he needs to be yet. Why is this room so dim? Aren't hospital lights usually so annoyingly bright?

He wants to sit up or readjust somehow, feeling too uncomfortable with everything his body is going through. But though he tries, he only ends up worsening the pain in his right side tremendously. Whatever little progress he may have made is undone when he's forced to lie down again. His left knee hurts, did he dislocate it again?

This bed is so uncomfortable and lumpy, is this mattress even from this century anymore?

But the pain wakes him up at least and he can grasp the sort of troubling situation he's suddenly in a little more now.

This isn't the hospital.

He doesn't know what room he's in, but he can see that the little light bulb on the ceiling is bare and the only light source in this place, that the walls are brick, and the floor is made of concrete. If it weren't for the lack of storage space, he'd think that this is a basement, but that couldn't be it, right? He can't just be in someone's basement! He notices there's a ridiculously tiny bathroom off to the side, which at least looks clean.

What Hiccup's lying on is, indeed, a bed and his painful wrists are cuffed to the sides. If he wants to pull at them, he can try once or twice, but after that, they won't allow any more attempts.

Realization comes and panic sets in.

He's been kidnapped.

"Wh-what... What?!" He can't comprehend it, his thoughts and heart racing and struggling to keep up. Hyperventilating and very quickly unable to breathe at all, the rapid pace cannot mix with his broken ribs.

Did Viggo do this to him? Why would he do something like this?! Why would he hit him with a car and take him from his home?!

"Hiccup, calm yourself!" Viggo takes his shoulders and, honestly, how can he expect Hiccup not to freak out when he's been kidnapped?!

Oh Gods, Astrid was right. She was right, Viggo was bad from the start. And he's the idiot who walked right into another trap. Why does he keep getting himself into trouble like this?

Oh no, and what of his Bud? He definitely remembers his dragon being there when he was taken, what happened to him? What could've possibly happened to him?

"No... No! T-Tooth... Tooth?!" He doesn't have the air to ask, his lungs and his ribs in a fierce battle for whose needs need to be met first. They both burn.

"Hiccup, I implore you to calm!" Despite Viggo's best attempts, Hiccup doesn't listen to him, too much in a panic. If this goes on, he'll lose him before he can even start molding him to his perfect partner.

"That's never going to work, Viggo. You know there's only one solution to this." The other man, the stranger, states as he pushes him aside. A soaked cloth is pressed to Hiccup's nose and mouth, the sedative wetting it is breathed in immediately with his fast breathing and it takes its hold just as fast.

A different kind of haze settles in his mind, he's feeling woozy. It works quicker than he can realize he's being knocked out. He's going under, his breathing evening out, and his last thoughts wonders about his friends.

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number-one-micoverse-fan · 4 years

Text

Everybody Knows That Dom Has Depression Except For Dom

It’s what it says on the tin, fellas.

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“And I have a couple of pre-made meals for you too!” Miranda heaves a giant refrigerated bag onto the table, beaming at Dom as she rips open the velcro and starts pulling out stacks of tupperware containers.

“Pre-made…?” Dom ventures, watching with growing wonderment as the stack of containers continues to grow. That bag must be bigger on the inside.

“Yeah, meals that are already cooked up and ready to go,” Miranda explains, finally setting the bag aside and walking around to open the fridge. There’s plenty of room inside for the castle of tupperware, “So you can just pull one out, stick it in the microwave, and you’re all set! It’ll be great for those days when you’re too tired or worked too late to make something.”

Dom blinks, considers, makes a soft noise of agreement. He absently hands containers to Miranda as she fills his refrigerator. He’s trying to figure out why someone would spend this much time on him. The only conclusion he manages to come to is that he definitely needs to find a way to pay Miranda back for her generosity.

He doesn’t deserve this kind of attention.

*******

“I—I’m so sorry about this!” Dom is scurrying around the house in the pre-dawn gloom, lit only by the sodium yellow burn of the streetlights through the window and the dim light over the kitchen sink. He’s flustered and tired, his tie undone around his neck, his shirt half tucked in, and his hair a mess.

“It’s fine,” Jake is hovering in the doorway to Dom’s kitchen, his hands wrapped around a thermos of of coffee. His expression is sympathetic, if a little strained, “Seriously, it’s not a big deal.”

“I know, I know,” Dom says in a stag whisper, struggling to do up his tie and tuck in his shirt at the same time, harried and fretting and continuously glancing towards the stairs to the second floor of the house, “B-but it’s just—it’s so early and—“

“I was already up anyway.”

“—you have Milo—“

“Dan’s still at the house for him.”

“—this meeting was so last minute—“

“Employers can be jerks.”

“—but Cody—“

“Dom.”

“—I didn’t want him to wake up alone—“

“Dom!” Jake snatches at Dominic’s shoulder, stopping the other man in his tracks. Dom’s eyes are wide and worried, heavy with exhaustion and stress. Jake gives his best comforting smile, changing his grip to a gentle pat,

“It’s okay. Honestly. I’m happy to help. You’re a—a friend. And you’d do the same for Milo, yeah?”

Dom swallows, takes a deep breath and smooths the front of his shirt down, “Yeah. Of course. Thanks Jake.”

“Anytime.”

*********

Cody flops onto the couch next to his dad and offers him a bowl of popcorn.

Dom takes it hesitantly, his brow furrowed, “I thought you were going to spend time with Milo…”

“He needs to do homework,” Cody says, settling into his spot. The light from the television reflects off his glasses, “And I wanna hang out with my cool dad!” He beams up at his dad, honest happiness on his face, “What’re we watchin’?”

“O-oh, um…” The hollowed out cavern in Dom’s chest is suddenly flooding with warmth and it makes a wobbly smile spread slowly across his face, “I…I dunno, actually, I just…had the TV on. Was there something you wanted to watch?”

“Mmmm, not really. Maybe we should channel surf until we find something good!”

“Okay…”

Dom flips through some channels rather absently, asking Cody about his day, about homework, about the MiCo channel. Cody happily rambles at him about everything and Dom listens, questions, smiles until his smile can’t get any bigger. He’s not really paying attention to the television, watching Cody talk and gesture animatedly about his latest attempt at catching proof of ghosts. The teen is lit up, literally and figuratively, glowing in the blue-white of the screen, smile flashing in the shadows, hands directing his words, a conductor of his own story.

“—so the audio should be finished by—ooh! Wait go back! Go back!”

The remote almost falls out of Dom’s hands as he fumbles to change the channel again. The sports cast flickers to something softer; a crowd of people milling about or standing in lines in a large indoor area. There are tables and booths set up in the background, but the foreground is dominated by a table at which sit a middle-aged woman and an older man in a tweed jacket. On the table between them is an intricately designed lamp with a garish shade made of bright glass and brass swirls. The man in the tweed jacket is indicating areas of the lamp with a pen and talking about the authenticity of the item in a low rumble of a voice.

“The…Antique Roadshow?” Dom questions, glancing at Cody.

“Yeah! It’s kind of cool to see what historical stuff shows up and to learn the history of it,” Cody says, “Also, sometimes, me and Milo would play this game where we would guess if something is haunted or not and then try and decide what kinda ghost is doing the haunting. He gets bored of it real quick though.”

“Hm…” Dom looks back at the—frankly hideous—lamp on the screen, “Well, uh, I don’t know a lot about ghosts but…if there was a ghost haunting that thing, it would probably be someone really annoying with no taste.”

Cody laughs, “I think I would feel bad for anyone who was stuck haunting that! It’s ugly!”

Dom finds himself chuckling along with him, “A, uh, I think the word is…ostentatious?”

They both laugh.

They’re still laughing an hour or so later, when the popcorn bowls are empty and it’s gone dark outside. Cody has tucked himself against Dom’s side, Dom’s arm around his shoulders, holding him close.

The cold, bitter hole that had been chewing him up on the inside is long gone. It’s nothing but tenderness and warmth and little rays of sunshine. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Dom knows it will come back. But it’s gone, for now. And he’s warm.

He’s happy.

*********

“Ah! Here! Lemme help with that!” A burly arm sweeps out of nowhere and scoops some of grocery bags from Dom’s struggling grip. Most of the grocery bags, really.

“Thanks…” Dom breathes, sending an uneven smile up at Dan, “Sorry about the trouble…”

“Not trouble at all!” Dan’s own smile is wide and bright and honest, his stride confident and comfortable as he follows Dom to the front door, “I was just coming home and you looked like you needed some help. And it never hurts to help.”

Dom only hums in response, holding open the door to let Dan sidle past and set the groceries down in the kitchen. The house is quiet—Cody’s out, probably getting into trouble with Milo—and Dom feels selfish for enjoying the peace of it. He’s exhausted, drained, his entire body feels heavy and his thoughts are muddy. He sinks into a chair at the kitchen table and rubs his eyes. He still has to put away the groceries and make some dinner and he should probably shower and maybe he should fold those clean clothes he hasn’t touched in a week and when’s the last time he vacuumed and—

“Long day?” Dan’s voice cuts through the deluge of thoughts threatening to drown him. Dom sighs into his hands, can only nod in response because even talking feels like it would take too much energy, “Sorry you had a rough day, buddy. But, hey, lookit that! You still went and bought groceries and you’re home now! So you can relax, just a for a bit. Take a breather, Dom, you look like you need it.”

His fingers tangle in his hair as Dom raises his head to explain that while he appreciates Dan’s advice, he really doesn’t have time to sit about and daydream. But he finds himself struck a bit speechless because Dan has put all the groceries away while Dom’s just been sitting on his ass feeling sorry for himself. It doesn’t shock him that Dan knows where everything goes, just that Dan would even take the time to do it. Dom could have done it, he’d just needed a minute.

Dan’s still smiling as he folds up the paper bags and stows them in the pantry, “Oh yeah, almost forgot—would you and Cody like to join us for dinner tonight?” He straightens up, hands on his hips, a life preserver to a man floundering in a sea of responsibilities and fears, “I’m making lasagna and I always make way too much of it. And it’s been a while since we’ve had dinner together.”

The relief that makes the burdens of the day slough off his shoulders makes Dom feel like he could float away. It buzzes in his chest, louder than the nasty little voice that says he’s lazy or that he’s taking advantage of Dan’s good nature.

“Thanks, I…I’d like that…”

********

Miranda hands him a small stack of thick, hardcover books. They’re a little banged up and well loved, the spines soft and their corner dented, but they’re well cared for all the same. Dom cycles through them—there’s four of them and all of them are about woodworking of various degrees. He glances up at her, half from confusion and half from wondering if she’s trying to say something.

She’s twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, something he recognizes as a bit of a nervous habit, a twinge of uncertainty, “A coworker had a bunch of old books they were getting rid of. Brought in a couple of milk crates worth of them. I know you like working with your hands and—and building stuff, that kind of thing. So I thought I’d…snag them for you.” Her face is a delicate shade of pink and she keeps glancing at him from under her lashes.

Dom looks from her to the books. He opens the top book to a random page, skims a description of re-scaling an existing design to make a miniature version of it. He might have gotten caught up in it completely if he hadn’t been hyper away of Miranda standing in front of him.

He lets the book fall closed and smiles at her. That pleasantly warm feeling is curling in his chest again, pooling wonderfully in his stomach until his cheeks flush,

“These are—they’re awesome. Wonderful, Mira. I love them. Thank you.”

Miranda’s smiles explodes and she throws her arms around him. Her lips touch the corner of his mouth and Dom feels soda bubbles burst inside him like fireworks.

*********

Something a little like frustrated panic clutches tightly at Dom’s throat when he hears a knock on the front door.

It still feels like its on the verge of choking him when he opens the door and finds Milo standing there with a folder clutched to his chest.

“Hi, um, I know Cody’s sick but I brought his homework from school so if he feels kinda better sometime he won’t get behind in class.” Milo is unusually subdued, no doubt missing his usual partner in crime and as equally worried about Cody as Dom is.

“Thank you, Milo, that’s very kind of you.” Dom runs a hand through his hair, realizes it’s shaking and quickly takes the offered folder from Milo before the teenager can notice.

Milo rocks back on his heels, glances from Dom to the house behind him and then back to Dom, “Um. Dom—um—Mister Bridges—uh, I know—um. That is, uh…” He fidgets, fumbles, wrinkling his nose as he searches for the right words and Dom is more than prepared to tell him that no, he cannot see Cody, Jake would hang him for it if he did, when Milo blurts out,

“Do you need help with anything?”

“You ca—I…I’m sorry, what?”

Milo’s ears are red, “I, uh, d-do you need any help? With anything?” He’s tugging absently on his hoodie strings, self conscious and still rocking back and forth on his heels, “You’re probably—well I know—um. Shoot. Y-you’re taking care of Cody so I wanted…to ask…if there’s was anything…you needed help with…”

Dom hesitates, wants to tell Milo to just go home because he’s a teenager and he’s been in school all day and he deserves to enjoy his youth. But Milo’s expression is so earnest and he certainly looks like he’s been worrying and fretting all day. Dom wants to think that maybe Jake or Dan put him up to this but Milo’s still got his school bag slung over his shoulder which means he hasn’t even been home himself yet. Dom can’t fight the soft and gentle smile that appears on his face,

“Go ask your dads if they’re okay with it first. Then maybe you can help me tackle these dishes, okay?”

Milo brightens instantly, “Okay!” And he scurries off to burst into the house next door.

To be honest, Dom doesn’t expect him to come back. But he does, full of energy and ready to go. He’s a bit infectious and soon Dom finds himself caught up in the whirlwind that is Milo Junior. Dom spends his time flitting up and down the stairs between Cody’s room and the kitchen and by the time he’s gotten some food in his son and coaxed him to go back to sleep, Milo has washed and put away all the dirty dishes in the sink.

“Shhh! Don’t tell Jake I know how to load a dishwasher!” Milo hisses in a loud whisper as he shoves Dom’s dishwasher closed with a clunk, “I’ve been doing it bad on purpose so he stopped asking me!”

Dom laughs. It feels bright and hot and brilliant inside him, spilling liquid honey up his throat,

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

********

Miranda’s humming something, her fingers carding lazily through Dom’s hair. Her other hand is draped over his chest, their fingers woven together, puzzle pieces that click together perfectly. Dom’s free hand is resting at the base of his throat, his thumb idly rubbing against the edge of the top button on his shirt. He has his head on her lap, his eyes heavy and lidded and unfocused. In this moment, he simply is. He is safe and comfortable and the warm gentleness of the whole thing has him floating on a delicate cloud of candy floss and downy feathers, lethargically sinking into a hot bath of love, attention, and affection.

More out of habit than anything else, Dom glances at the clock on the television stand. It takes his tired brain a moment to process the time, but once it does, he jolts into alertness,

“Dinner! We—we gotta get ready if we’re gonna make it!”

He goes to get up, already dreading the notion of being out in public where people can see him and judge him and make their assumptions, where he has to communicate with those who don’t understand him, where out there will never be as safe as in here. It makes his stomach clench and his appetite sink rapidly into a tar pit of nausea.

“Wait.”

Miranda presses a hand to his shoulder, steers him to lay back down in her lap. Dom holds her wrist, brow furrowed,

“Mira, our dinner…”

“Let’s just…stay in.” She says in a low voice, leaning over him. Her golden hair frames her face in the lamplight, curtaining them both off from the rest of the world, “We can order some pizza or something, I don’t mind. I’d like it to just…be you and me.” She leans closer and the heat rises in Dom’s face, “Just the two of us,” She’s a breath away and Dom can smell peppermint and lilacs and just a hint of that clean, slightly chemical scent that follows a doctor everywhere,

“Together.”

If they kiss, no one would be able to see it past the golden cascades of Miranda’s hair.

Her hand stays in Dom’s and he forgets about how relieved he is that they’re staying home because he’s too busy falling in love with her all over again.

********

Cody sets a glass of water down in front of Dom, smiles when Dom looks up at him with a question on his face.

“I was getting one for myself so I got one for you too,” Cody says with a shrug, “You looked thirsty!”

It’s not until Dom takes a drink that he realizes how parched he is.

It also strikes him that he hasn’t gotten up from the table in several hours. His joints pop and groan in protest when he stands up.

The numbers and words on the bills in front of him were blurring into obscurity anyway. He’s going to check on what Cody’s up to instead.

The bills are long forgotten as he spends the rest of the day watching his son play video games, simply enjoying the enthusiastic company.

********

Dom pushes his safety glasses to the top of his head and gives up starring at the miter saw with a heavy sigh. He’s not going to be getting anything done today.

He wanders to the front of his garage and sinks down onto the pile of lumber by the open door facing the street, peeling his work gloves off his hands and dropping them onto the wood beside him. He feels heavy, like something’s pushing down on him, crushing him slowly into the dirt. All the plans he’d made for the day feel pointless and empty.

He feels pointless and empty.

And stupid.

He’s staring an infinite black hole into the pavement between his peeling sneakers when someone’s approaching footsteps make him raise his head. It feels like lifting a thousand ton weight.

Jake is standing a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his slim jeans, his button up open to show a faded band t-shirt underneath. His expression is carefully blank but he’s chewing on his bottom lip in a manner that suggests there’s a thousand thoughts going through his head.

“Hi,” Says Dom and his voice sounds flat and lifeless and it makes his throat close up.

“Hey,” Jake nods, shifts his weight awkwardly, “Mind if I, uh, take a seat?”

Dom pats the lumber next to him and Jake eases down, glancing at the wood as if checking for splinters. His hands leave his pockets and his fingers get tangled in each other, twisting in and out and over as he fidgets. Dom can see the movement out of the corner of his eye but it’s much easier to keep staring at the sun bleached pavement.

“Thought I would have heard your power tools going by now.” Jake says in a somewhat forced conversational manner. Dom shrugs, makes a noncommittal noise. Jake sighs, takes a deep breath, lets it out again, finally says in a stern voice,

“Dom. You have depression.”

That startles him out of his stupor enough to turn and look at Jake, “What? What, no. I don’t.”

Jake frowns, not in disappointment, in something like solidarity and determination, “Yes, you do.”

“No, I—“

“Dominic, I literally have depression. I know what I’m talking about.” When Dom opens his mouth to protest further, Jake cuts him off,

“You feel tired almost all the time, even when you’ve gotten enough sleep. Sometimes you don’t sleep at all and sometimes that’s all you do. You either eat too much or you don’t eat at all or you eat just enough to keep going, even when you feel nauseous at the idea of food. You get frustrated with yourself because you can’t do what you want, you feel like you never have enough energy, and you blame everything on yourself.” Jake’s talking faster now, words spilling out, a floodgate of awful truths and buried thoughts cascading out in an awful tidal wave that’s black as pitch, “You feel like everything is your fault and nothing will ever be okay ever again and you’re going to be stuck in this hellish tar pit for the rest of your life! Because there isn’t anything better! There’s nothing outside the tar pit and you’d rather let yourself sink to the bottom and drown there than try to struggle anymore because you’re tried and you’re hurt and no one can ever understand how hard it is to live like this! And even though you hate yourself for giving up you just can’t do it anymore!”

The words break off into a ringing silence.

Jake is trembling slightly, shivering in the summer heat, because it feels so damn cold all of a sudden. His eyes are bright and hard but there are tears clinging to the corners and his jaw in clenched and his gaze pins Dom to the spot with accusation and something like desperation. And maybe not a hint of fear. Dom wants to look away, to shake his head, to tell Jake he’s got it wrong. But, god, he can’t.

Not when Jake’s dropped his guard like this.

To his eternal shame, Dom’s eyes get hot and his lower lip trembles. He drops his face into his hands with a muffled curse, trying to push it all back down, trying to bury it all back where it belongs deep inside him where it can’t bother anyone else.

“Dom, please…” Jake’s hand is on his shoulder, squeezing, grounding, reassuring, “I’ve…I didn’t want to say anything, I really didn’t because—I know it’s such a hard thing—personal. And I wouldn’t have said—I would have left this alone if I thought you were…” He trails off, steels himself, takes a shaky breath,

“Cody came to talk to me.”

Dom looks up at him, can’t decide if he’s horrified or in despair or hurt. Jake looks apologetic, his expression crinkling up and his hands shaking, holding himself steady despite the lingering threads of fear tugging at him to run from the situation.

“Cody?” Dom croaks, hates that he sounds so damaged, hates that it’s another thing to prove Jake right, “Is he—“

“Cody’s fine, this was a while ago.” Jake’s gaze darts away, comes back, drops to his knees, looks up at Dom again, “I just…wasn’t sure how to approach you about it.” A weird, slightly manic and cynical chuckle rattles out of his lungs, “I guess now’s a good a time as any.” Seriousness falls back into place, a door clicking shut but the key still in the lock,

“He approached me because…because he knows you’re hurting. Dom, he came up to me and he was trying hard not to cry and he told me “I think my dad’s sick and he won’t get help”.”

Dom thinks his heart shatters into a million pieces when he hears those words. His shaking hands fist into the front of his paint-stained shirt and he makes a choked off noise that desperately wants to be a sob, but Dom refuses to let it be.

Jake expression is desperate, begging, pleading for Dom to understand, “He knows something’s wrong and he wants to know how to help you. I know this probably isn’t something you want to hear, that it’s—it’s such an impossible thing to try and process but, Dom, he’s just a kid and he knows that you’re not doing okay.”

And Dominic Bridges finally breaks.

Right there, on a pile of lumber in his garage, talking to his neighbor, he puts his face in his hands and he cries.

Because he knows Jake is right.

And it kills him.

********

“It’s okay, I’ll be right out here for you,” Miranda says quietly, squeezing Dominic’s hand in her own, “I’m really proud of you for doing this.”

Dom is shaking in his seat, his leg bouncing insistently, cold sweat sticking to the back of his shirt. His mouth is dry and every time he swallows that just seems to make it worse. He feels like his voice is stuck somewhere in the vicinity of his shoes and he wants so badly to trample it as he runs out the building.

But there’s a fee for canceling appointments after 24 hours and Miranda has taken the time to come with him and she’d be so disappointed and—

—and Dom actually wants to try.

So when the therapist steps into the waiting room and calls his name, he takes a deep breath and stands up. His legs are jelly and he thinks he might pass out and some part of him is screaming that this is a waste of his time and money and he shouldn’t be here. But when he glances over his shoulder at Miranda before he walks through the door, she gives him a huge smile and makes a little heart with her hands.

And Dom thinks that maybe, just this one time, he can try and do something for himself for a change.

#-dabs in clinical depression-#whoa sage wrote something that's not angst and horror! surprise!#dominic #fan fiction

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #384

“watch your tongue or have it cut from your head”

Do you post to say happy birthday on other people’s walls? Sometimes. Depends on my mood and the person. When was the last time you saw a rainbow? Idr. What’s your favorite television commercial? I don't watch TV enough at all to have one. And who has a favorite commercial, anyway? Do you trip a lot? I don't really trip a lot, but kinda fumble over my footing and stray a bit. I'm horrible at walking straight, and it's gotten worse as my legs have. How old is your television? The one in the living room is god knows how old. My parents were still together when they bought it. When did you last talk on the phone with someone? A couple days ago for my appointment with my psychiatrist. Are you currently sleepy? I'm quite convinced I'm permanently tired. Are you hot or cold natured? I am ALWAYS fucking hot, ugh. Do you take any advanced classes? I took mostly Honors classes in school. Do you have weak upper body strength? My body is just weak as a whole. What is the worst insult someone can call you? Emotionally weak. Are you good at sketching? If we're talking meerkats, haha. They're the only complex thing that I can freehand no problem without needing a reference, honestly. Ever play Angry Birds? Nah. I thought the movie was cute, though. Have you ever been to the zoo before? Yeah. Has anyone ever been weirdly obsessed with you? No. Are you afraid someone might steal your identity someday? It's not something I actively worry about at all. Like, you don't want my identity, I promise. Do you have any talents that come naturally? Growing up, adults always told me I was a "gifted" artist and writer. Also that I seem to have an unnaturally strong connection with animals. I've always been that person where a pet's owner is like "omg ____ never lets people do that" and whatnot. Have you ever had plastic surgery before? I haven't. It's funny though, how opposed to it I used to be... Like goddamn, I was such a fucking stupid and honestly judgmental teenager, regarding many things. I look back on her and cringe. Like damn dude, if you have a safe surgical procedure to help you enjoy the body you're stuck with the rest of your life, you go for it, boo. Are you afraid of airplane rides? Not really. What’s the best Valentine’s Day gift you’ve gotten? There was this one year where Jason had to go to work on Valentine's Day and I was super bummed, yet he still surprised me with a heart-shaped box of chocolates, roses, and a game I really wanted, Heavy Rain. I thought it was the sweetest. What is something you lose often? My phone. ;-; Do you enter a lot of sweepstakes? I don't enter any. Do you consider yourself physically active? *chuckles nervously* Do you have Netflix? Yeah. Favorite salad dressing? That Olive Garden replica you can buy at the store. Do you enjoy dancing? Once upon a time I did. My body could never handle it now. Have you ever considered writing a novel? Many times. Snow or sand? Snow, by twenty thousand miles. It is VERY hard for me to walk through sand, and I also hate hate hate hate HATE the sensation. Do you like sour candy? Heeeeeell yeah man. Have you gotten any injuries lately? If so, what & how? Nothing notable. Are you a clumsy person? Like you would not fucking believe. Last male you talked to in person? I think my primary physician's nurse. Are you thinking about asking anyone out? No. Pink lemonade or regular lemonade? Pink lemonade, for sure. But I love both. Chocolate or strawberry milk? CHOCOLATE. Strawberry milk is disgusting. Have you ever won a contest on the radio?No. Is there a song that reminds you of your best friend? There's quite a few. Has a book ever made you cry? Yes. Do you automatically check your phone when you wake up? Yes, for the time. Do you know anyone who has a pet bunny? Not that I'm aware. What store or website would you most like a gift card for? Rebel's Market. How do you feel about wolves? I adore wolves. Beautiful, majestic creatures with very interesting social dynamics. Name your top 3 favorite musical instruments. Electric guitar, violin, piano. What was the last book(s) you bought at a bookstore? At an actual bookstore, I think it was The Fault In Our Stars, which I never actually read. Do you use Pinterest? Yes. Do you know any sign language? No. Do you have a favorite poem? No. Do you have a dog? No. The one we were pretty much stuck with has a home now. Have you ever read The Little House on the Prairie series? I haven't. Have you ever gone on a service trip to an underprivileged country? No. Have you ever performed in front of more than 100 people? Yes, for dance. When (if ever) was the last time you went to church? Forever ago, I don't even remember the last time. What's a quote you think is really powerful? There's a whole lot. The first one that came to mind was, "An eye for an eye will leave the world blind," which I do believe has great depth in it. Have you ever had to do your laundry at a laundromat? Yes. Are you the oldest person who lives in your household? No. My mom is turning 60 (... I think?) this year. If you have tattoos, how long have you had them? I got my first the day I turned 18. Do you and your dad have similar personalities? We're alike in some ways, imo most notably in that we have NO fucking common sense, embarrassing as that is to admit. We're both kinda slow at understanding things, too. What were the last three things you had to drink? Mountain Lightning, milk, and water. What did your family usually do for Easter when you were a kid? Us three kids all got Easter baskets full of stuff, and we'd go egg-hunting when we were all awake. My little sister Nicole would always wake our parents up in excitement, haha. My parents hid plenty throughout the house, and there was always this one "special" egg that was actually from Mom's childhood and was extremely intricate and beautiful. You basically "won" the hunt if you found it, and it was extremely well-hidden. When you have house guests over, where do they sleep? Historically since living here, my two half-sisters and their spouses (the only people who've stayed over) slept in what is *technically* Mom's room, but for whatever reason this woman still insists on sleeping on the couch in the living room, I guess because she's used to it after all the years she didn't have her own room and bed. Are you emotionally stable? LOLOOLOLOOLLOLOOLOOLOLLOOLOLLLLLLLLLLL Do you still talk to the very first person you had sex with? No. Are you an atheist? No. I don't quite know how to define what I am, but since I believe there's SOME higher power, I don't think it's fitting to call me an atheist. What’s the largest bug you’ve ever found in your house? Hm... I'm unsure. Probably a male mosquito, 'cuz them bitches are big'ins. Would it annoy you if a stranger called you "sweetie?" If it was a man, I'd be creeped out. Are you into fashion design? Not really. What’s the worst thing you’ve gone through in the past year? My leg muscles continuing to degrade, honestly. I have to do something about this shit. How did you get your last bruise? I fell when stepping over the stupid dog gate. Have your parents ever forgotten your birthday? Yikes, no. Would you rather have some bacon or beef jerky? Bacon. Do you like your orange juice with lots or no pulp? NONE. Do you wear skinny jeans? Back when I wore jeans, they were the only kind I wore. What projects are you doing now for school? I'm outta school. What’s the most number of comments you have on a Facebook picture? What is the picture of? I have no idea. Do you like coconut flavored things? No. Have you ever met a famous author before? No. Do you know anybody who has been raped before? No, thank god. I know someone who might've almost been, though. I don't know what the fucking pig was going to do to her if my sister and I weren't there. Have you ever wished for bigger boobs? No. Being overweight, I just want smaller ones now, haha. Have you ever gone a full day without interacting with another person? I've gone many days without it. How many relationships have you been in that lasted less than a year? Four, if you're counting everyone that had the "boyfriend" title. Where were you going the last time you were on a plane? Home from Illinois. Where were you going the last time you were on a train? I've never been on one. Have you ever been significantly more physically fit than you are now? Holy fuck, yes. You would never guess now that I was perfectly healthy in high school especially, yet I still thought I was kinda fat. It hurts so much to look back on. When growing up, did you parents keep the house very tidy? I mean not excessively, but Mom was pretty dedicated to keeping the house in decent condition. With three kids though, of course the house was somewhat messy with toys and all. When you shop at IKEA, do you always stop to eat a snack/meal in the cafeteria? ... There's a fucking cafeteria in a furniture store? o_o I've never been there before. How many watches do you own? None, save for one in my "treasure box" from when I was a kid. I was SO SO SO obsessed with Finding Nemo that I kept my broken one. I did the same with my horribly aged sneakers, like the soles were coming off and Mom finally made me stop wearing them, ha. Are there any ways in which you greatly differ from everyone else in your family? I do fucking nothing and am useless to society. Should teenagers be allowed to have their cell phones with them in class? Yes, because emergencies happen. I personally think it's best to maybe have your cell phone flipped over on the corner of your desk or something and on vibrate, that way the noise isn't too disruptive and the teacher can see you're not just using it for other purposes. Do you have any gay relatives? Yes. Have you ever had to have a pet put down? Sigh, multiple. Have you unfollowed, deleted, or blocked anyone on social media recently? If so, what was the reason? Not recently. How many cups of coffee do you typically drink per day? None. Do you know what your vocal range is? No, but it's not very broad. What’s the biggest financial mistake you’ve ever made? I haven't been in this position before. Have you ever been in a relationship where there was a large difference in maturity levels? No. What’s the longest you’ve ever stayed as a guest at someone’s house? I wanna say over a month while we were technically homeless. How bad was your acne when you were a teenager? Oh dear, it was rough. Like there were people who had it worse than me, but ya girl was lookin preeeetty rough lmao.

#survey #surveys #questions #lyrics: ''hail to the king'' by avenged sevenfold

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fireblaze5555 · 4 years

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Kastle Drabble

A quick idea that struck me over the weekend.

Title: A Long Day

Summary: Frank and Karen deal with intruders in their apartment

Available on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26470678/chapters/64501375

Part 1: Karen:

Karen half stumbled into the apartment, exhaustion and relief in equal parts making her clumsy as she tossed her keys down and kicked her heels off to beeline for the kitchen. She was more than ready for a beer, sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. The day’s investigation had led her in a wide circle around the city with very little viable information gained. In short, it was a complete bust and her feet were killing her. So, with practiced ease she flicked on the standing lamp in the living room, pulled a cold beer out of the fridge, opened and drained half of it with a satisfied sigh and headed for the bathroom, a hot bath calling her name.

It was nearly an hour before she emerged from the bathroom dressed in her favorite pair of sweats and most comfortably worn in t-shirt. The stress of the day was finally easing out of her shoulders and the aching in her feet had calmed to a dull throb so Karen was starting to feel much more positive about the rest of her evening. With a renewed sense of purpose, Karen ran long fingers through her wet hair and gave a determined nod, speaking quietly to herself, “Time to see if I can make some sense of what I did manage to find today…”

A creak in the living room made Karen turn sharply and just like that what hope for her evening she had managed to regain vanished into vapor, replaced with a spike of adrenaline and fear quickly followed by acute exhaustion and no small amount of annoyance.

She really wasn’t in the mood to be kidnapped or whatever the three men now standing in her living room had planned. Judging by the smug looks and weapons strapped to their waists, they weren’t here on a social call or even just to deliver a warning. It really spoke to her way of life and how much shit she had been through that now that the initial shock had worn off, she was just tired and annoyed. In the short time it had taken her to compute there was a threat in her apartment, Karen had already formulated a plan. There were weapons stashed all around the apartment and she knew how to use all of them, as long as she could avoid getting grabbed she felt fairly confident she could get out of the apartment mostly unscathed.

From where she stood a few feet outside of her bedroom doorway, Karen could see the kitchen and from the corner of her eye verified that her first choice for defense was tucked up under the island where it had been secured just the other day. She turned her attention back to the living room, watching the intruders again. They had moved a little further in and looked confident that their job was already done, no doubt assuming that a skinny blonde in her pajamas would be an easy take down. Karen felt the familiar hot rise of anger burn up her spine. When were men going to learn that underestimating her would almost always be their last mistake?

As subtly as she could, Karen flicked her eyes over again to gauge the distance between her and the gun fastened to her kitchen furniture when her eyes flicked over the neon numbers of the microwave flashing midnight. For a moment, through her clamoring thoughts, she tried to remember why the time seemed so significant. Then it clicked and some of the tension bled out of her shoulders.

One of the men took a step forward and looked like he was about to speak but Karen cut him off.

“You should leave. Now.” She said, her voice solid but laced with obvious weariness.

The man closest to her looked back at his friends with an incredulous little laugh before turning a patronizing smile to her, “Aw, but we just got here Karen. We can’t just leave before we have all the fun we have planned for y-..”

“Listen, I can honestly say I’ve heard several variations of this speech over the years and I just don’t have the energy for it tonight. I’ve had plenty of fun today, thanks anyway. You can go now.” The men continued to chuckle, eyebrows raised at her sharp tone and defiant demeanor. A heaving sigh escaped her. “Look, you really need to go before he gets home.”

One of the men, this one had a sharp smile, began to fiddle with a blade as he sauntered forward to stand next to his companion, “Ooh, you have a man living here with you Ms. Page? A real tough guy?” You have no idea , she thought but didn’t interrupt him. “Does he know that you’re snooping around where you shouldn’t be?”

Yes, it’s a never ending source of stress for him but he gave up trying to convince me to stop so I don’t see how that matters. Once again, she let him continue.

“Well even if he doesn’t, he’ll find out soon enough. We plan to carve every little problem you’ve caused for us into that pretty skin of yours, once we’re done with you, of course.”

It was so cliche it nearly made Karen roll her eyes. She didn’t though, she still needed to be focused, each time they got a little closer, she moved a little closer to her destination.

As much as she really didn’t like these men, and she really didn’t, she felt like she should try to give them one last warning.

“Whatever it is that I’ve done to piss you off, I’m telling you, it won’t be worth what’s coming. If you leave right now, I won’t report anything and you all don’t have to die.” Her voice was steady and earnest. If, by some miracle, they did decide to just leave she fully intended on reporting it to Mahoney, Karen was almost certain she knew what faction these men were from and it wouldn’t be hard to track them down.

As she expected, they just laughed.

“Well, we appreciate the warning Karen but I think we will stick around.” The gaze he scraped over her body made her give an involuntary shiver, “We are going to have so much fun together. Before we kill you and leave you here for your poor little boyfriend to find that is.”

Well, she did everything she could. Karen tensed, prepared to fight and watched the men across from her do the same.

Just as she felt like the tension was about to snap into a flurry of motion, there was a creaking behind her, the old floorboards protesting. Before she had time to process the new potential threat, three sets of eyes snapped to look over her shoulder, nearly identical sneers of bravado on each of their faces.

What Karen couldn’t see was death himself materializing from the dark of the bedroom doorway behind her. A face carved from granite and colored with deadly calm stared at the intruders, the deep set, nearly black eyes the only indication of the rage roiling under the surface. The men watched the newcomer advance with heavy footfalls, stepping around the mouthy private investigator to level a malevolent glare at each of them in turn. It was then that they took in the blood splatter across his face and the slow drip of blood from one of his fingers. He had a deadly stance that only a true killer could possess. Karen could see the confidence starting to drain from the men’s faces but it was the tactical vest that made them all go pale, taking several hurried steps back towards the door. A white skull stared back at them, the hollowed eyes seeming to follow their harried movement.

“Karen.” It was spoken quietly but the deep graveled voice seemed to fill all corners of the small apartment. “Did they touch you?”

“No, man! We didn’t lay a finger on her! We were just going to talk to her, I swear.” The cocky leader of the small group hurried to plead their case but Frank silenced him with a withering look, a low animalistic sound emanating from deep in his throat.

“I wasn’t talking to you asshole.”

Stepping forward, Karen laid a gentle hand to his shoulder, “No, Frank, they hadn’t done anything to me.” Yet , hovered in the air between them.

Without waiting to see what he would do, the men bolted for the door. They had been expecting an easy evening silencing a reporter, not a fight with the Punisher.

Frank tensed, ready to follow them but before he did he turned back to Karen. She knew he was going to kill them and was too tired to pick a fight on the matter. Instead, she looked him over quickly to be sure he didn’t have any obvious injuries from the mission he had just returned from and when her quick scan turned up nothing, she rested a soft hand to his cheek.

“Punctual as usual.” She said quietly. He had promised her he would be home by midnight and Frank didn’t break his promises to Karen.

He gave a small huff and some of the tension bled out of him before Frank leaned into the touch. He gave her palm a soft kiss then placed a softer, more lingering kiss on her lips.

“I’ll be back in less than an hour, wanna heat up some leftovers?” he asked, stepping back to check his ammo and stride toward the door, a predator on the hunt.

With a sigh, Karen leaned against the counter and for the hundredth time wondered how this was her life.

“Yeah, I’ll have it ready. Try not to get hurt, I’ve already taken a bath and I’m ready to go to bed.”

A crooked grin and a ‘Yes, Ma’am’ was all she heard before her apartment door clicked shut

Part 2: Frank

Frank slid through the bedroom window and landed noiselessly, trying not to wake Karen if she was already asleep. From a text she had sent him earlier it had been a rough day for her so he didn’t want to make it worse. Frank’s evening had been pretty standard, the targets he had been after went down without too much of a fight so the blood on him mostly wasn’t his, the shallow cut on his forearm the only exception.

The bathroom door opened just as he was settling the window quietly closed and he gave a little smile when he looked over his shoulder to see Karen emerge. She was in a loose pair of sweats and one of his worn in black t-shirts. She didn’t seem to notice him, taking a few steps out of the bathroom towards the kitchen, no doubt planning to do more work until he made her get some rest. Frank heard her mutter something to herself and just as he turned and started to poke a little fun at her for talking to herself, Karen’s head snapped to the living room to follow the noise he had just registered as well.

Instantly his body shifted back into battle mode, his muscles tensed and ready, his senses straining for any clues to the potential threat and with a few silent steps he saw the men standing in their living room.

Rage burned hotly through him along with no small amount of fear, Karen was far too close to the intruders. She was tense but he could tell she had already thought of possible scenarios and had probably already solidified a plan. His girl always was calm in the face of danger. Frank forced himself to only take a few steps forward and listen, he trusted Karen to protect herself, lord knows she had done it plenty before he came along, and if he could stay calm and pay attention he may be able to get information on what organization they are from. Just in case though he had his sidearm up and ready to take out the threat.

They stared each other down for what felt like an eternity and then Frank saw Karen glance to the side and just a hint of tension bled out of her.

“You should leave. Now.”

If he wasn’t so furious and anxious Frank would have smiled.

Listening to the exchange he was able to learn that they hadn’t come for her because of him. Which means she probably knew where they were from. Good.

“...Does he know that you’re snooping around where you shouldn’t be?”

Frank barely kept from scoffing. Oh, he knew. Every new gray hair he found he was certain was due to one Karen Page. Then the man threatened her, a wicked knife twirling in his hand and Frank was taking careful steps forward, pausing when Karen spoke up once again.

“...and you all don’t have to die.”

Oh, but they did. Now or later, it made no difference, he would find them. He felt a flare of pride, she knew he would be here for her. Karen may not realize that he is in the apartment now but trusts that he will be here because he gave his word. Another reason he didn’t deserve her.

Frank’s pride melted to anger when they laughed at her. The pieces of shit had no idea the mercy she was trying to grant them. Then again, they had come here to kill the only shining light in the city so they really weren’t all that smart.

When he saw all parties tense and prepare for action he took heavy strides out of the bedroom. Frank knew how capable Karen was but he wasn’t going to stand by and see her attacked when he was there to prevent it.

The soon to be dead men snapped their eyes to him as he carefully stepped around Karen and put himself between her and the threat. It was with grim satisfaction that he watched them realize their mistake and backpedal as quickly as they could. But it was too late for that.

“Karen.” He was trying to not let the rage take over. It would be best not to kill them in the apartment but now that he was closer to them he wanted nothing more than to end them. “Did they touch you?” He knew they hadn’t but a part of him needed the confirmation from her.

One of them had the nerve to speak for her and Frank nearly lost it. Just as quickly, he regained his composure when he felt Karen’s hand on his shoulder. She knew how to steady him.

The cowards fled quickly after that. He moved to go after them immediately but thought better of it, turning to Karen. As was tradition, she looked him over, scanning for injuries and reassuring herself that he was fine. It was a ritual they had adopted in their time together. A few moments to hover, dispel the worry then get back to living.

When she rested a cool palm to his cheek, Frank almost decided to not go after them for the night. He could find them just as easy tomorrow and he was tired. But he also knew he wouldn’t be able to truly rest until they had been eliminated. So with a couple lingering kisses he was headed toward the door.

“...Try not to get hurt, I’ve already taken a bath and I’m ready to go to bed.”

Christ he loved that woman.

“Yes, Ma’am.” he said around a smile and set out to wrap up some loose ends.

It wasn’t hard to find them, they hadn’t gotten far and their arrogance had returned once they were off of his home turf, thinking that he would not follow. Idiots.

So, true to his word, Frank was easing back into the apartment 45 minutes later to the smell of leftover pasta. He stopped long enough for another once over from Karen before reaching for a plate.

“Uh, Frank?” He looked over to her with a raised eyebrow,

Karen looked exasperated, “Do you think maybe you should, I don’t know, wash your hands or something?’ She shook her head at him when he stared at his bloody hands for a second. “Bathing in the blood of your enemies sounds real cool and all but practically speaking it’s just not sanitary, please let go of my good plate and go wash your hands at least.”

Frank gave an amused huff, setting the plate down and moving to the sink. Only after he had thoroughly scrubbed his hands and up his forearms did he return to the kitchen island. When he sat down Karen placed a kiss to his temple as she set a beer in front of him before settling in for her own dinner.

She filled him in on the details of her mostly failed endeavor today and became animated when she informed him that while he was gone she thought of another, sure-fire way, to get the information she needed.

Frank chewed slowly, hanging on her every word and throwing in his thoughts here and there but mostly just marveled at the woman before him, talking about her day like she hadn’t just had her life threatened and he hadn’t murdered a handful of people in the name of justice tonight.

For the thousandth time he wondered how this was his life.

Once they had eaten and Frank had scrubbed off in the shower, they stepped into the dark of the bedroom, both exhausted from the day's toils.

The last thing to be heard were murmured ‘I love you’s before the bedroom door clicked shut.

#kastle #frank castle and karen page #fic #kastle drabble #established relationship #post TPS2

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ablogcalledrevenge · 4 years

Text

Potential (A General Hux x Reader Insert Multi-Chapter Fic, Rated M)

Chapter Two

As much as Starkiller was a failure in your eyes, you wouldn’t deny that it made certain things easier. You didn’t have to worry about planting politicians in the Senate if said Senate had been blown up. Still, the vacuum that left in the galaxy needed to be filled. Smaller planets and peoples were left without leaders or guidance and they needed to be reached before the Resistance got there. That had been your mission for the past few months.

You and the General had been sending triple encoded messages back and forth, discussing which politicians to endorse and which to drop. There were plenty of First Order sympathizers even with the demise of Starkiller but they couldn’t be too headstrong. They had to be open to suggestions and molding. A true puppet government wouldn’t work right now, you’d have to build up to it. So with his ideas and some of your own in mind, you traveled under the banner of the First Order, going from planet to planet and spaceport to spaceport, sowing pride and loyalty for your cause. For your husband’s cause.

You had married in a beautiful but small ceremony, wanting to appeal to the grandeur of the old Empire while also acknowledging the salary of a General, even the most important one. Your father regarded the whole affair with bemusement, focusing on brown-nosing the guests and drinking expensive liquor. Your mother regarded the whole day with tired chagrin, knowing she couldn’t really complain without seeming sour and ungrateful. Perhaps it was petty, but after years of being ignored and put down, you relished in your joy. In the end, everyone got what they wanted. Your brother got the job, Hux got his money, and you got your foothold.

Then, as the night drew to a close, you couldn’t help but feel flutters of something in your stomach. You wondered what kind of experience you had coming. There were rumors about General Hux’s predilections and you wondered which were true. You were not above using sex as a way to get what you wanted from him, and he was very handsome in his dress uniform. But when you left the party and went to your suite, General Hux had merely squeezed your hand, kissed it, and then retreated to a side room to work. The air turned cold after the door between you whooshed shut and unsure of the swirl of emotions inside you- anger, betrayal, sadness, relief, happiness, confusion, embarrassment- you went to bed. Two days later, you left for your mission and he for the Finalizer.

And now you’re coming home, or what would be your home for the foreseeable future. You had plans to settle planetside but that would be a few years off. The ship was a small one, only big enough for yourself, two pilots, and a small group of Stormtroopers for your protection. They were all good, hard working people and you ingratiated yourself to them easily. It was never too early to start getting allies. Despite coming from a noble family, you were an outsider to the First Order. The more people you had thinking of you fondly, the better off you’d be should disaster strike.

The Finalizer comes into view- massive and imposing, and your breath catches in your throat at the truly awesome amount of power it holds. The co-pilot, mistaking your gasp for romantic excitement, turns towards you with a fond smile.

“Eager to get home to the General, my Lady?” He asks, his aged face looking kind. You glance down as if embarrassed but then quickly look back at the viewport and sigh. You couldn’t truly miss your husband, you’d been in contact with him these whole four months. The encrypted messages, though pointed and factual, made you feel something akin to closeness. You spoke of ambition and treason and he never spoke down to you but instead took your ideas into consideration. It was honestly the perfect way to be married. You never had to see him, but he still did everything you told him too.

“Oh yes! These past few months have been difficult but the Order must always come first. I know my dear husband has been so hard at work and getting to see him in action will truly be a gift.” You say with all the breathless anticipation of a newlywed. The pilots chuckle and nod, perhaps remembering their own youth, and the ship is silent until you land in the loading dock. If you roll your eyes anymore they’ll pop out of your skull.

The Stormtroopers gather your bags and walk behind you as you exit the ship onto the Finalizer. The landing bay is a large and open area, bright floodlights hitting the silver walls and floors in a way that makes the whole place shine. It is also very cold and unfriendly. No one stops to greet you when you finally stop walking, barely anyone gives you a second glance. It’s honestly insulting. As a general’s wife, as the General’s wife, you deserve more respect. That’s not even including the fact that you are technically still a member of the ruling noble class from your home planet. At least your retinue of Stormtroopers remains behind you, loyal to a fault.

The sound of boots reach your ears and a young woman comes into view, the bands on her arm suggesting her rank of Lieutenant if you remembered correctly. Stopping in front of you, she bows slightly and you give an indulgent smile at the action.

“Good evening Lady Hux, I’m Lieutenant Stynnix. General Hux has asked me to take you to your quarters and help get you settled in.” She says, clearly impressed or at least interested in you and your dress. You bristle anyway, the insult of your own husband not coming to greet you being more important. Clearing your throat, you nod in her direction and follow her out of the landing bay and towards the officer’s quarters.

You don’t pay attention as she guides you through corridors and in lifts. You’ll make the General give you a tour later. This would be a way to speak to him and also annoy him, and you were always an expert at multitasking. Using a code you didn’t know, Lieutenant Stynnix opens the doors to General Hux’s quarters.

“The General has provided you with a datapad. All of the codes you’ll need are there, as well as a few forms you’ll need to fill out for your medical profile. You can set up your fingerprint analysis with this and send messages to anyone on the ship within your clearance level.” She explains, handing you a shiny black datapad, bigger than your hand but not unwieldy. You want to sound petty and ask exactly what clearance level your husband had so thoughtfully assigned you to, but you hold your tongue.

The quarters were large, certainly comfortable for two people. The doors opened to a sitting area, sparsely furnished. There was a low coffee table and one black leather chair. There was no artwork but there was a floor to ceiling wall of transparisteel, showing the beautiful stars as you traveled through space. Across from the coffee table and against the other wall was a light blue couch that looked uncomfortable. You admired the color, interested at it’s addition in such a utilitarian room. Next to the transparisteel wall was a simple desk, covered in flimsi and models. It was neat and organized and you wondered if moving something over an inch would set a klaxon off. There were doors leading to other rooms, probably the bedroom and refresher, maybe a kitchen?

You turn in a circle, the silver and pink cape of your traveling dress twirling around you. It wasn’t a perfect space, far from it, but it could work. It just needed a feminine touch and some warmth; you could provide that.

“Yes, this will do quite nicely I think. Thank you Lieutenant Stynnix. I appreciate you getting me settled in. You’ll have to forgive me though, I’m very tired. I would like to unpack, start filling out those forms, perhaps even eat something.” You say, putting your hands on your hips.

“Of course my Lady. If you’re hungry, you can call up for a droid. The control panel for the lighting and temperature in your quarters is next to the door. The General has tasked me with acclimating you to life aboard a starship so if you need anything please feel free to send me a message.” She says with a click of her heels and a salute. You’re about to apologize for the task of babysitting you but instead she seems proud of her assignment. You decide you like Lieutenant Stynnix and having her in your corner will be a benefit. Plus, it’s always nice to have other women to talk to.

You thank her again, kindly and sincerely, and she leaves. Your bags are sitting on the floor next to the door and you let your shoulders sag. Sinking down on the blue couch, you make a noise in surprise at it’s comfort. Like everything else in this room, it looks hard and more for show than actual use. A beeping sound starts and a mouse droid enters, zooming around the room before stopping at your feet.

“Yes?” You ask, amused at the little droid. It rolls back and forth for a moment before a transmission plays.

“This is a message from General Hux of the First Order. Welcome aboard the Finalizer. I will return to my quarters at the end of my shift. 1900 hours. Please prepare yourself to meet the troops. Fill out the forms.” The automated message repeats and you break out into laughter. What a romantic, your husband was. Still, it would be exciting to stand in front of the assembly of the First Order. Your first introduction as their Queen, even if they didn’t know it. You do have some time to change but you decide against it. It will seem more cost conscious and humble if you appear in your travel attire. Besides, it was extravagant enough to work for a simple address.

“Yes, I will. Thank you.” You respond, reaching down to pat the little mouse droid. It chirps as if used to such treatment and retreats back into it’s charging station. More pieces are added to the puzzle that is your husband. It was never a bad thing to be kind to droids and it suggested kindness in other areas that would hopefully be revealed to you soon enough.

There was a chronometer on the desk and you realize the General will be returning sooner than you thought. Now that was something you’d have to speak to him about. You knew he didn’t like his first name but you certainly couldn’t call him “the General” for the rest of your life. Perhaps he had a nickname or enjoyed endearments? You’d have to ask him at some point, lest you embarrass him. You barely liked the man but you needed to appear united, and him jumping in shock if you called him Snookums on the bridge would work against that.

Squaring your shoulders with resolve, you get up and explore the rest of the rooms. You’re right about the doors. One leads to a small galley kitchen filled with more mugs than usable cooking equipment. That works for you; used to being served meals. Your husband likes Tarine tea and apparently nothing else. It suits him, the thought of the bitter tea making your tongue go dry in your mouth. It was almost sad, how much of General Hux’s life lacked sweetness and comfort. Did the man do anything for the simple pleasure of it? When you made him Emperor would he even enjoy it?

Slamming a cabinet door and stalking out of the kitchen, you avoid the idea. Opening the door to the bedroom, something makes you pause before entering. You suddenly remember your wedding night, the shame and anger coiling inside of you. From the doorway you can see that it’s a simple room featuring a large bed with black sheets and two night tables. There is a dresser and an armoire and you wonder if your clothing will even fit there. Your clothing and various accessories are very important to you and you will not give them up. There is an open archway leading off to what you assume is the refresher but you close the door and return to the sitting area. The bedroom is not for you and you feel unwelcome trying to force your way in right now.

How horrible of your husband; to make you feel so unsettled in your own home! That’s your bedroom too and yet you avoid it like the bed will swallow you whole. You’re probably safer in there then out by his desk. He certainly wouldn’t touch you among the sheets if his past behavior was anything to go off of. You feel the urge to cry suddenly; the emotion strange and choking but you hold back. Now is not the time, especially at the start of your journey. You have no reason to cry, everything is going well. Just because your husband refused to greet you in person and has a dark, bleak home doesn’t mean you can break down. You don’t even know why you need to cry anyway; nothing is wrong, nothing bad has happened. You unpack and attempt to imagine your life here instead.

In what seems like the blink of an eye, a beep sounds and the door opens. You stand and face your husband as he enters, your hands resting at your sides to avoid fiddling with your dress or jewelry. His eyes scan your form briefly, more mechanical than appreciating, but you can’t help the way your heart skips when his bright eyes meet yours. The uniform is not a very attractive one and not even necessarily flattering but it fits him impeccably and you admire the striking figure he presents with his greatcoat. Were you other people, you’d run to his arms and kiss him madly. But you’re not other people, you don’t want his love, just his participation and obedience.

Still, you smile as he walks towards you, pleasant and welcoming. He removes his hat and tucks it under his arm. He is speechless and you’re not quite sure why. Has the sight of you after so many long months truly arrested him? You didn’t think he considered your beauty that amazing but you would take the silence for what it was.

“Welcome home, it’s so wonderful to see you again.” You breathe out with all the sweetness you can muster. There’s no reason for you to put on an act for him, he knows of your ambitions but seeing him in person has made you want to be affectionate. You have been alone for four months.

“I hope you had a safe and comfortable journey. You look well. I know the officers are eager to meet you after my speech. As for everything else, we can discuss it later. Do you need more time to get ready? This will be broadcast to the First Order systems.” He says, before breaking away from you and going over to his desk. He moves a sheet of flimsi over to the left and you smirk behind his back.

“No, I’m alright. Unless you don’t think this is appropriate? I’m used to galas and lunch gatherings, not addressing the entirety of the military and government. Perhaps I’ll add a circlet?” You ask, not caring about the answer at all. You want to get this over with, you want to discuss your progress and start the next phase of your plan.

“It’s fine, your dress is very becoming and fitting of your status.” He says brusquely before softening a little. He seems to consider his behavior and his shoulders drop causing you to freeze in shock.

“Forgive me, it’s been a very long day and I won’t deny that I’m tired. (Y/N), you look very beautiful and I’m glad you’re here. I’ve enjoyed talking with you these past few months and I look forward to doing it in person. I am proud to introduce you to my fellow officers and subordinates. Please, let’s go.” He says, the ice that surrounds him melting a little. You give a genuine smile and give him your hand. The leather of his gloves feels warm against your own gloves and while he doesn’t smile in return, his gaze is less severe. He looks so young this way, so approachable. Were he any other man, you could see yourself falling in love with him.

Heading towards the bridge is an interesting exercise. Everyone must have been alerted to your presence because Stormtroopers salute and bow as you both pass and officers move out of the way to let you ahead. This is the behavior you were expecting and you give them all elegant nods. Perhaps it’s not true respect, just marvel at your unstandard dress, but you’d take their approval in whatever way you could.

Entering the bridge causes a hush to fall over the room and you give a soft smile in response. Glancing at your husband, he leads down a walkway and towards the windows. The stars will be your backdrop as you’re introduced to your future subjects. You see Lieutenant Stynnix and give her a playful wink; she blushes.

They’re setting up the cameras when you finally come face to face with Kylo Ren. He is ominous, tall and dark with an unforgiving mask. Your hand twitches with the urge to touch it and feel the grooves. You’re not sure if his title is one of actual nobility but you curtsy anyway.

“Lord Ren, it’s nice to finally meet you. The General has mentioned you often and I’m eager to know if his assessment of you was correct. I have a feeling you will exceed any expectations I have and I look forward to getting acquainted.” You say, keeping your voice soft and mind blank. You were told that Kylo Ren could read minds and so you thought of simple things to make him skip over you. You thought of unpacking and cleaning your quarters, your nervousness at addressing the Order, your husband’s profile against the blackness of space.

Kylo Ren’s only response was to cock his head at you and then walk away towards a corner. You feign confusion and disappointment and turn back to General Hux. It seemed the Force user was a very different kind of beast. You wonder if your family would be watching the broadcast and the thought fills you with malicious glee.

The address actually had nothing to do with you but this would be your first appearance in front of the First Order. There would be a little placard under the footage of you, declaring your new name and place in the universe.

A throat clears and you face the camera as a red light turns on. General Hux squeezes your hand and steps forward towards the center of the bridge. There were a few cameras moving around and one was focused solely on you.

You were live in front of the galaxy, your galaxy, and the surge of pride that entered your being caused a sparkle in your eyes that people would talk about for decades to come.

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

If asked about it, you wouldn’t be able to say what your husband talked about. During his speech, you focused on keeping your face pleasant but neutral while occasionally sending adoring looks his way. Let them think you vapid and simple, let them underestimate you. They would learn the truth in time.

After the broadcast ends, Hux in a surprisingly display of cleverness and foresight, returns to you and takes your hand. You don’t expect him to kiss you in happy exhilaration; it would be out of character for the staid man. But showing the crew small affectations of intimacy would endear you to them.

You’d done your research on the troop’s view of General Hux, especially after Starkiller. You wouldn’t have been surprised if they hated him, distrusted him, and ignored him. But instead, it seemed like the crew respected him more. They admired him for his calm under pressure and his acknowledgement of failure. They didn’t believe Starkiller was his fault and gave him more trust and loyalty. The First Order loved General Hux with a level of fanaticism that inspired you.

If they thought he loved you and respected you, they’d fall in line. All you had to do was keep up a good reputation and blush in front of your husband a few times and they’d support you in your endeavors. They would listen to your flesh and blood General before the flickering image of Snoke. While your path to power wouldn’t be easy or quick, it was nice to have built in supporters.

Several officers approach you, awe in their eyes. Lieutenant Mitaka stammers out a hello and bows far too deeply to you as did the other younger officers. The older colonels and captains address your husband first before grasping your hand with approval. The female officers compliment your dress and composure. Captain Phasma, resplendent in chrome approaches but does not bow or genuflect.

“Welcome aboard the Finalizer Lady Hux. Your work the past few months has not gone unnoticed and the Stromtroopers who you traveled with spoke very warmly of you.” Her modulated voice giving no indication of her emotion. You hate all these masks, they make you feel so uneasy.

“Thank you Captain. The same goes for you. Your Troopers are expertly trained and I felt well protected with them. I didn’t expect anything less from someone as revered and respected as you.” You say, looking up and up at her. General Hux’s hand touches briefly at your lower back before moving away and the gesture is unexpectedly sweet.

The parade of people you have to meet seems never ending but at last it does. As General Hux leads you back towards your quarters, you recognize your path. Learning this ship is easier than you thought, though you’re sure if left to your own devices you would get lost.

“I’ve ordered dinner for us. I imagine you must be hungry.” He says as the pneumatic doors close behind you. He removes his hat again and places it on a table before heading into the bedroom. At a loss for what to do, you follow him, breaching the threshold.

“Yes, thank you. I am hungry.” You assume you’ll eat at the small table in the kitchen. There’s no space for entertaining here and that makes you frown. You’re not expecting to throw dinner parties but as a wife and nothing more for the time being, your home will be your work space. Perhaps you could commandeer a meeting room for such an occasion and only focus on small groups for the sitting area.

He nods at your agreement and taps out a few things on his datapad before taking off his gloves and laying them gently on a night table. His side obviously; it’s already been chosen for you. The sight of his bare hands stuns you and you sink to the bed unknowingly. There is an elegance to his pale hands, a grace to the long fingers and short, manicured nails. You wonder if they’re as soft as they look and if they will be as cold as the rest of him. He doesn’t notice you staring as he disrobes, or if he does, he doesn’t comment on it.

The greatcoat comes off next and he looks so much smaller without it. He looks less like the megalomaniac you know him to be and more like a regular person. Even without the breadth his coat affords him, you still enjoy the shape of his body. You like a man you can overpower. There is something effortlessly beautiful about your husband, a sharpness to his features that shifts into curves and keeps him from looking too old and severe. His nose and cheekbones lend an aristocratic air to him while his tapered waist spoke of good proportions and decent breeding. His hair would need some work, the vibrant color dulled by gel and plastered to his skull. You understood that there were certain rules about grooming but even just a little less would be nice. His hairline was strong, he luckily wouldn’t go bald too soon. Yes, you could enjoy seeing him age, that much you decide.

“Dinner should be here in a few minutes. You can put your clothes in here, although I fear we may have to get another one if all your dresses go out like that.” He says with good humor, gesturing to the armoire. You couldn’t decide if you were offended by the statement or in agreement. You did have dresses with fuller skirts and flamboyant sleeves- though you were no Padme Amidala- so another bureau or armoire would probably come in handy. You’d need at least two drawers for your jewelry and headpieces alone.

The door chimes and General Hux leaves the bedroom, you following quickly behind. A droid enters pushing a cart and he directs it to the kitchen. It smelled surprisingly delicious, and the relief you felt at not having to eat the officer’s rations was palpable. General Hux smirks knowingly before setting the covered platters down and thanking the droid. A surge of affection went through you at that, charmed by his behavior.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked but I knew you wouldn’t eat the normal meals officer’s get. Perhaps you could make a list of food you prefer and we’ll get that to the cooks for the future.” He says, taking off the covers to reveal a fragrant and juicy looking fowl with colorful vegetables and mashed tubers. His own meal was a protein pack and the strange sludge you knew the officers ate in the mess hall. It almost put you off your own dinner. How sad, that he was the leader of the First Order and he still ate the same things his lowest subordinates ate. His tastebuds must be shot.

Him having better tasting meals wasn’t necessary to your plan but it would make you feel better. His well-being mattered to you and it would be very uncouth for an Emperor to still be eating rations when everyone around him was eating penne all’arrabbiata. You would improve everything in his life, get him used to the luxury of his new life.

You eat in comfortable silence, commenting on the food occasionally. It seemed that outside of his grandiose speeches, your husband was not a talker. Better for you, you had plenty to talk about.

After dinner, he sets the trays back onto the cart and wheels it outside for a droid to return to the kitchen. An awkward air settles around you as you wait for him to do something, anything. He goes to his desk and turns on a projector, fingers tapping at his datapad. Apparently it is time for work.

Throwing your hands up with a groan, you go to the bedroom to change into sleep clothes. You might as well be comfortable. If your nightgown also happens to be very flattering and thin, then that was a coincidence. You return quietly to his desk, looking at the spinning holograms for a moment before turning his chair around to face you. His look of consternation makes you chuckle.

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough work for today? You promised we would talk and I have a lot to say. There’s so much to figure out. All of this can wait.” You say, knowing that you could be wrong and he could rebuff you like your wedding night. But he doesn’t disagree or yell at you. Instead, he gets up and leads you towards the blue couch. Curling up on the cushion, legs tucked underneath you, he retreats to the bedroom. You’re about to start screaming about his cowardice at abandoning you once again when you realize he’s getting into his sleep clothes as well. Through the open door you watch him remove his boots with a jack and the sight of his socked feet strikes you as so vulnerable and innocent. You don’t see him remove any other clothing and you don’t know whether to be grateful or discontented with that.

He returns to the couch, and to you, in a simple black shirt and soft black pants. Does the First Order make no other clothing? Is everything black and red and white with the occasional grey? No wonder they all stared at your colorful gown.

He reclines next to you and settles a gentle hand on your knee. You can’t feel it through your gown and you keep yours in your lap. You are still conflicted in your desire to be close to him.

“Tell me about your trip, (Y/N). What do we control and what comes next?” He asks, your name coming from his lips making your skin buzz. Any anger or annoyance you experienced earlier dissipates and a smile appears on your face, wide and wicked.

“We control it all. Ando and Atollon are under the First Order banner, as are Iego and their moons. I went to Eriadu and spoke with many older Empire families and they are in full support of the First Order’s current conquests though they still seem bitter about losing Hosnian Prime. Despite the fact that the planet was the home of the New Republic, they miss the exports. We should look into replacements. It may seem silly but we need the support of the Empire. We need their money and their influence, especially on the Core Worlds.” You say, grabbing your data pad off the coffee table and showing him the current statistics. They weren’t one hundred percent accurate but they gave a good overview of the First Order’s reach across the galaxy. Your finger swiped across the screen, showing him the profiles of the people in charge and the current approval rating. All in all, it was very promising.

“Excellent. I’m glad the families on Eriadu didn’t cause you too much trouble. I find them exhausting and foolish but you’re not wrong. We do need them, as much as I loathe to admit it. Promise me that when we take control we’ll ship them off to a work camp or an ice planet and ignore them.” He asks, rubbing his eyes. The brief show of his exhaustion causes a flare of worry to rise in you.

You gently remove his hand and kiss his fingertips, correct in your assessment that they were cold. He doesn’t stop you, moving his hand to caress your cheek. It’s the most he has ever touched you. It’s a lot for him to do this, you can tell. It’s obvious that the General has never known soft and gentle touch. Unlike on the bridge when everyone was watching, his movements here are hesitant and slow. You reward him for his bravery by turning your head in his grip and kissing his palm. It warms under your lips and you think it’s a fitting metaphor.

His face is still and calm but his eyes have taken on a peculiar quality. It is intrigue but of a different kind than you’ve seen before. It thrills you and gives you hope that this could perhaps become a true marriage. You would’ve been happy with just a understanding partnership filled with contentment. But his reaction to you suggested more. Your kiss turns into a bite and he raises a red eyebrow in challenge.

“I promise.”

Chapter Three Coming Soon...

Tagging: @babbushka, @livy1391, @girl-next-door-writes, @renaissance-mama, @peqchynero, @the-temple-pythoness, @cupofmoonlighttea, @sincerely-cronch, @brujademente, @potato-ren. Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters!

#my writing #general hux #general hux x reader #reader insert fanfiction #self insert fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #fanfiction #not beta'd #anyone who gets the eddie izzard reference gets 10 points!#to what i haven't decided yet #also i really hope you like it #potential

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aqvarius · 4 years

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Masquerade Kiss: Do Bad Girls Like to Self-pleasure? Kazuomi Shido - otona love - chapter 2 summary/translation

sorry this is coming out a little later than i anticipated. i bought and read the entire story in advance to get a sense of the length but my strategy backfired and now after reading it, i find translating more tiring since i already know what happens lol. but there were requests for me to keep translating so naturally i had to do it. once again, i’ve placed a cut because this translation is long and image-heavy, so make sure to click the “keep reading” to see the full chapter.

you can read the previous chapter here, where kazuomi accidentally sees you doing ~something~ to yourself under the sheets...

you’ve told him to take a shower and you’re moving under the bedsheets.

feelings that he can’t remember [feeling before] well up in kazuomi at the sight of what looks like you pleasuring yourself.

“...was there a problem with how we make love?”

“i thought i satisfied both your body and soul...”

however, looking at it now, it seems like that’s not the case. perhaps you’re taking care of yourself because you’re unfulfilled or dissatisfied with his actions.

“i thought your reaction in bed last night was more than sufficient”

he thinks maybe he should have been more relaxed/taken things easier, and not just in bed. maybe he should have listened to you vent out all your work stress?

“sensitivity comes from daily heart-to-hearts...”

basically he’s saying that the connection between you two is strengthened through daily everyday communication ughaskjlsd kazuomi is so sensitive and romantic i can’t deal.

“certainly, i’ve been so busy these days that we haven’t had time to meet,” he thinks, but didn’t realise that it would have such have such a direct effect. this kind of thing has never happened to him before, so he’s unusually confused.

“is my love not being conveyed enough...?”

to calm himself down, he quietly closes the door so you won’t notice him.

you tell him you need to leave early this morning. taking your turn after him, you’ve had a quick shower and got ready in no time.

“...the mood is pretty awkward”

he wonders if you noticed what he saw, or maybe you’re just embarrassed after doing ‘that activity”.

you’re about to leave, but he says

“whoa, can’t i get a goodbye kiss?”

(there’s that cheeky おっと again)

“ah... yes...” you say, and stretch up, holding onto his shoulder to get closer to him. you usually kiss him for longer, but today it’s just a quick one. you tell him you’ll contact him again. he takes a sip of his completely cold coffee, thinking back on what you did yesterday.

“...i didn’t make any mistakes. everything should have been perfect”

“and yet, she still wasn’t satisfied...”

he had completely no idea. frowning over his cold coffee, he gets up.

anyway we’re at the club now and i’m just laughing at the background because this is the first time i’ve seen it so large (since i’m reading on my laptop) and look at how many couples are inexplicably here together? also that random couple on the second table which is mirrored in the next one lmao. and having pole dancers and cancan dancers next to each other with the musicians at the top of the stage... what kind of club do the three musketeers run...

“that night, i was at the usual place with yuzu and kei.”

he’s eating the food that’s being brought in, but the sights that he saw the other day won’t leave his head. (i’m a bit confused by the wording of this because didn’t it happen just this morning?)

kei: “how are things? kazuomi”

kazu: ahh... well...

they were making plans for a “secret room” for the new resort he’s developing. it’s progressing without any problems, but honestly that’s not the issue right now.

kei: ...kazuomi?

yuzuru: “you’re very absent minded”

kazuomi thinks that you’re feeling lonely* because you haven’t seen each other for a while. he wonders if you’ve been self-pleasuring in that way in the meantime.

*honestly i can’t tell whether or not he think you’re feeling lonely or if he’s feeling lonely bc there are no possessive pronouns lol.

so in the meantime [that you’re apart] he might have become not enough. in that case, the issue after all is the time when you can’t meet. (basically that the issue is that you don’t get to spend enough time together).

he thinks about that melty face you get in bed.

“up until now, there hasn’t been a woman i haven’t satisfied.”

the confusion he felt this morning gradually disappeared, and now he’s filled with the feeling of being faced with a new challenge. “if that’s the case, how do i satisfy her?” he wonders. he declares (in his head) that he’ll satisfy you to the point where you can’t live without him.

kei: “hm? are you planning something fun again?”

kazu: does it seem like that?

yuzuru: “when you have that look on your face, you usually are”

kazu thinks that it seems that it did show on his face.

yuzu: so, what is it that you’re going to do?

kazu: nah, it’s not a big deal

kei: you’re grinning while saying “it’s not a big deal”? you’re not fooling anyone

“talking to you guys is annoying”

(bruh lmao)

kei: hmm, now i definitely want to hear

yuzu: usually you cause trouble by yourself, but i like to be entertained too occasionally

kazu: don’t i always entertain you?

kei: well, it’s as yuzu says, the one who causes the most trouble is kazuomi

kazu: you guys never change (? not sure if i translated that right)

he thinks something about the fact that they’re poking fun at him.

kazu: actually, this time...

when he tells them what he saw, kei’s eyes widen slightly.

kei: “hmm. so mc-san** masturbates even when kazuomi’s there”

**i finally changed my name to my usual キラ but he’s basically saying your name there so i’ll use mc to refer to “your name”

yuzu: is that why you were so absent minded?

kazu: even up until now, i’ve never experienced this kind of trial the day after embracing someone

“there are countless women who have pleasured themselves during the times when we can’t meet”

(lmao!!!)

kei: well i’ll neither agree nor disagree with that... so, what conclusion have to come to as to why mc-san did “that”?

(i’m actually not 100% on what he said but i think that’s what he means through context)

kazu: i’m stumped because i have no idea

kazu: well, strongly speaking(?), i’ve been so busy lately that i couldn’t look after her***

***he means this in the emotional sense, like he hasn’t had time to worry about her concerns/really care for her

kei: but you met her in person and satisfied/appeased her, didn’t you?

kazu: that was my intent

yuzu: in other words, she wasn’t as satisfied as you thought

(bro why you gotta be so blunt lol)

“...are you trying to make me depressed by treating me like i’m seeing you for a consultation?”

yuzu: i didn’t say anything about getting a consultation

kazuomi unintentionally smiles wryly while taking a sip of champagne.

kazu: anyway, that’s the main reason ... have i not said enough? (i think basically he’s wondering if he and his mc haven’t been talking enough)

kei: to mc-san? i think you’ve said plenty. when mc-san came to masquerade just recently, you were murmuring so affectionately it was annoying.

yuzu: “yeah. the things you said were nauseating”****

****set his teeth on edge - literally make his teeth float

kazu: what words...? i don’t understand what you mean since i normally say them unconsciously

(lmao!! kazuomi is a natural cheeseball)

kei: in kazuomi’s case, i urge women to breathe (no idea what this means: kei says “息するように女性を口説くからね” if anyone can help)

“sorry but my only partner is mc now”

yuzu: “do you want a consultation? [or] do you [just] want to brag?”*****

*****惚気: speaking fondly of a love one, praising/bragging about one’s spouse

after all that, the cause of mc’s “~activity~” was still unknown.

aaand that’s the end of chapter 2! i really like the direction this story is going in. i think a lot of people’s fantasies are that he would find it really hot but honestly kazuomi just wants to fully monopolise and satisfy his lover. tbh i’d be hella insecure if i had sex with my bf and then he went to go jack off again after lol. it was really cute seeing slightly insecure kazuomi but of course i love seeing him bounce back and treat it as a challenge, as he always does with everything in life, but especially with his mc. it was really fun getting to see some quality banter between the three “S”es, although it was a nightmare to translate some of it... i did learn some new slang tho.

i hope you enjoyed this chapter! please let me know what you think is going to happen. if you want to read more of my translations from voltage’s otona love, you can read my completed translation of soma’s super steamy “not the story of your first night” (chapter one here) or check out my translations page.

i’ve set up a ko-fi page here and would be incredibly grateful if you would like to support me for translations and being able to purchase more routes to recap in english!

click here for chapter 3

#kazuomi shido #voltage smut #otona love #otkoi #summary #translation #voltage #voltage inc #voltage otome #otome game #otome blog #otome romance #love 365 #love 365 find your story #マスカレード・キス〜危険な駆け引き〜#獅堂和臣

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