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dragonmasterhiccup · 2 months ago

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(bruh, Tumblr deleted the last parts of what I wrote, which was all of what she was saying about Hiccup and I got so mad 💀, I had to rewrite it lol)

Freya could quickly tell that Hiccup wasn't particularly fond of the idea of not being able to fly Toothless, having to be cooped up in his hut all day. She could see it in his face, the stubbornness he held onto when it came to that topic. She knew he was going to try and fly with Toothless somehow, despite the warnings, so she sighed, pointedly staring at him with a stern gaze while she spoke with a slightly dry throat - due to the crying she had done: "I understand that he can't fly, Hiccup, but I know I can't really convince you to not go with him. Just.."

Pausing her movements of fidgeting with the straps on his arm, she spoke with a tone that was just as stern as her gaze, "Please be careful. Don't go hurting yourself some more, Dork.."

His words swiftly made her discover how much he had actually helped her in that moment, and her eyes went back onto the fireplace, speaking out her response in a softer manner than what she was previously using, "...Fine. For what it's worth, thank you. Thank you for...helping me, even when I practically dragged you over here..because..." She hesitated to finish, her original words being, 'I was scared for you.' ".. Because I was acting..childish, really..."

Hearing him ask her if she was truly okay with the fact that he had managed to bring her guard down, Freya briefly glimpsed at the small braids that were still in his hair, "I mean...remember how persistent you were? You never gave up...and it looks like you still aren't.."

---------

She gave Hiccup a thankful glance for opening the door, the smell of mutton stew hitting her senses as soon as she stepped inside. Her expression immediately changed into one of curiosity, the dish being one she hadn't eaten in a while since her father didn't enjoy it. It also made her realize how hungry she actually was. She assumed that, if the Chief's son found out she had forgotten to eat all day, other than an apple early in the morning, he wouldn't be too pleased. So, she chose to keep that to herself.

Clearing her throat, Freya attempted to cover up the small growl her stomach made at the delicious smell of the food, feeling more welcomed and at ease while Stoick smiled at their arrival, the nervous load she carried in with her slowly beginning to fade away. "Thank you for having me over, I..I'm honored to be able to have dinner with you all, Chief.." Was she too formal? Oh, geez, did she look strange? Did she sound strange? Those thoughts, however, were put to a stop at Gobber's 'joke', making her to lightly chuckle at his teasing complaint.

She nodded at Hiccup's apologetic look, giving him a softened smile to silently reassure him she was alright. Her small action, though, made her rethink what she just did. It wouldn't have been considered a big deal, but she acknowledged that she was starting to do that more often; smile at him as though she were becoming more.. comfortable around him, which she undoubtedly was, unbeknownst to her.

Turning her focus onto Gobber and away from aimlessly watching Hiccup leave to go help prepare the bowls, Freya suppressed a snort at his comment of her younger sister, faintly rolling her eyes as she sat across from him. "Yeah, I should know, I've been with her for ten years so far." Speaking in a more light-hearted tone, she continued: "Thank you for being a good distraction for her, though, it gives me a break sometimes." She let out an airy laugh at the imagination of Ayla constantly bugging him in the forge, knowing how much the little girl could talk.

As soon as they got their food, she wasted no time in grabbing her spoon and quickly take her first bite, lowly humming in satisfaction at the taste. 'He really is a good cook..' Suddenly remembering that she wasn't alone in her own hut, she told herself to take slower and more proper bites of the stew, blowing on it to prevent her from finishing the whole bowl so hastily. Stoick sure did seem to help in that area as well when he started talking about her 'relationship' with Hiccup, whom she sat beside.

His words didn't bring any relief to the increasing heat on her face, feeling embarrassed at the Chief's chattering of how wonderful it was for the two of them to be together. Thankfully, she only continued to eat in an unhurriedly manner, ignoring the ever persistent blush on her cheeks. Her success of managing to keep herself composed, however, was mercilessly thrown away as he mentioned her becoming a Haddock. With amber eyes widened, her hand numbly dropped the spoon she was holding - right into the stew.

She felt like her face was on fire.

It was becoming the previous shade of scarlet that only appeared once before with Hiccup, and she didn't know what else to do with it other than to shakily grab her spoon, allowing him to do the talking on her behalf for that subject. Freya held her last name dear to her, despite the struggles and hardships she's been through, especially with her own father. Freya Leif was her own name, her own accomplishments and what she did so far on her own, without another person's help or involvement. She pushed that topic away, though, reminding herself that the whole 'relationship' wasn't even real.

Wandering in the land of what was called 'her thoughts’, she nearly didn't hear Gobber's question for her, causing her to look up at him as she was about to take another bite of her food, blinking in surprise at the sudden choice of words. "W-what I see?" She cleared her throat, slowly placing her spoon down with a concentrated expression. It was rather ironic that she was being asked the same thing she had told Hiccup.

Feeling her heart beat pick up its pace, Freya lightly tapped on her leg underneath the table, carefully considering her answer for a moment. 'What drew me to Hiccup?'

Taking a deep breath in, she kept her gaze on the table while she spoke: "Hiccup, he...he drew me in by how kind he is...not just to me, but to everyone. He treated me with nothing but respect and benevolence while I...was not doing the same in return. He's courteous, polite, and selfless..." Her tapping was beginning to slow down the more she talked about him, unknowingly speaking out the truth of what she felt towards him while the memories of what they've experienced so far was running through her mind, "He's patient... his solicitude for others is something I strive for...and he can come up with solutions to problems quicker than most would even consider dealing with... He's clever, very intelligent, and his altruism is..stunning.."

Remembering the moments he spent with Ayla, a faint smile formed on her lips at the thought, "He's caring...and funny, gentle, but firm when he needs to be..and he's enjoyable to be around. He's.. warm-hearted and yet..resolute, determined, and valorous..." Suddenly calling to mind all of the times she's mistreated him, she finally lifted her gaze to meet Stoick's as she continued with a more earnest tone, all previous nerves having been disappeared: "Chief, I just want to let you know that I certainly do not deserve to be in this relationship with your son based on my former attitude, I should've been the least of his options. But... I am glad that I get to be this close with him... And..I want to say that it is a privilege to be able to get to know Hiccup in this way with each passing day."

Gathering her breath together, Freya finally realized what she had said. Her eyes slightly widened once more as she briefly tapped on the table, "I, uhm... that's what...drew me in..I guess.." After taking another bite of her stew, she hesitantly stood up from her chair, "Do you mind if I..get a little more? It was..really good..." Once she was free to go, she wasted no second in taking lengthy steps to the kitchen, hoping to distract herself the arising heat on her face, even if it was for a moment.

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

Her leg would not stop bouncing underneath the table. It was a faint movement, but it still happened nonetheless. She aimlessly watched as Gobber was a bit...tipsy from the mead he was drinking, her eyes flickering at the empty bowl in front of her every now and then as she now desperately wanted to leave. It was late, well, later, and she started to wonder how Blaze was doing and if Ayla was okay. That, and she couldn't stop thinking about her earlier words.

They sounded...too real.

All the surrounding conversations were becoming deaf to her ears, which told her that she wasn't even paying attention anymore and she no longer wanted to be there. It wasn't anything of Stoick's fault, or anyone's for the matter, but she didn't want to be in the same room where she practically gushed out all of her deeply rooted thoughts anymore. So, going to her last solution of escape, Freya slowly reached out her hand and found Hiccup's straps on his arm, lightly tugging in it from underneath the table. She could only hope that brought the silent message across of: 'Can we go now, please..?

At Freya's words, his gaze landed on her, and he gave a small nod. "I'll be careful, I promise."

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He had a sneaking suspicion that Freya was calling him 'dork' affectionately, instead of it being an insult. The thought brought that warm, fuzzy feeling back in full force.

She may have looked away, but his eyes stayed on her, memorizing every detail of her face.

Hearing her thanks, he was about to respond, stopping when she mentioned the word childish.

"Hang on, how was that childish? You had just learned some intense stuff about my past, and it..." Pausing, he wondered, Did it scare her? She did look pretty scared...

Clearing his throat, he decided to say, "...it was a lot to process. Whatever it was you were feeling? It's best to not go through that alone."

Was he persistent in having her let her guard down? He sure didn't see it that way. "I never mean to make you uncomfortable, Freya. I just..." Wanted to know more about you... "...we ended up in some interesting situations, I suppose..."

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

Stoick beamed proudly. "No, the honor is mine! I've been wanting to host the lass who's caught my son's attention for quite some time now!"

"Uh, Dad? It's...it's barely been a week..."

Gobber lowered his tankard. "A week to yer father is likened to a year when it comes to matters of the heart, lad!"

Hiccup sighed, "Yeah, yeah that's true..."

He hadn't planned on leaving Freya's side, knowing how nervous she was, but it eased his own worries to see her give him a reassuring smile.

It almost felt like he had a new spring in his step every time she smiled at him, and he felt...well, light.

Stoick teased him lovingly, saying something about how 'your head has been turned, boy!' and 'she sure is a pretty one!' and all Hiccup could do was nod, suppressing a grin.

It was then that an airy laugh carried its way from the dining area to where he was, and he perked up a bit...which Stoick of course noticed.

As Hiccup sat down next to Freya, Stoick clapped him on the back, saying how proud he was, that his son managed to find such a girl to be with.

Hiccup, of course, turned a bright shade of red, offering a meek smile in response.

The mutton stew was delicious as always. His father had been making it the same way for as long as he could remember. It was the saving grace that kept Hiccup from wanting to just drag Freya out of there to get them both away from his father's mindful gaze.

Hiccup was still recovering from choking on his bite of stew, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Freya drop her spoon in shock.

Gobber didn't pay any of them no mind, preferring to keep his eyes on his own meal in front of him.

Stoick didn't understand their reactions. "What? Why, Hiccup, when I was your age, Valka and I were married with a little one on the way!"

This only caused Hiccup to turn even more red. "Dad!"

Gobber now decided to intervene. "Give them a little time, Stoick!"

At Gobber's question, Hiccup found himself quite nervous...all he knew about what Freya thought of him was annoying...or Mr. Nice Guy. What would she say now?

He didn't dare look at her, knowing both Gobber and Stoick's eyes were on her, very curious about her answer.

As she started her answer, he could feel his heartbeat quicken, and warmth crawl up his neck, to his cheeks, and the tops of his ears burned with heat.

When she said selfless, his eyes finally darted over to her, not quite believing what he was hearing.

And yet...she continued on. His jaw dropped open slightly as she listed trait after trait that she saw in him...all good, incredibly complimentary things...

Stoick's eyes darted back and forth between Freya and Hiccup, and he saw his son's reactions to her words.

A thin smile formed, hidden beneath his mustache and beard.

Oh yes, the Chief thought. Berk will be in good hands with these two...

As Freya addressed him, Stoick gave a knowing nod. "Aye. Your previous attitude, as you call it, is part of why I was surprised to hear Hiccup speak of you in such a way when he informed me of your new status together." The chief glanced over at his son, who was stunned speechless at all Freya said. "But, I can see why he's drawn to you as well."

The Chiefs eyes twinkled, full of pride at the two youngsters before him. "It looks like you two were able to overcome your differences in such a way that it opened you both up to who the other truly was, instead of any preconceived notions you had."

The chief nodded, gesturing for her to help herself.

Once she had left, Gobber turned to Hiccup.

"Ya picked a great lass, lad. She seems quite taken with you!"

Hiccup was looking in the direction Freya went, still stunned. "Yes, she...she does..."

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

The rest of the meal went smoothly, thankfully.

The only exception was Gobber going a little too hard on the mead.

Hiccup's mind kept drifting, thinking back to Freya's words earlier, though he was still able to give small responses, keeping the conversation with Stoick going.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he felt a slight tug on his arm.

He looked down at it in confusion, before seeing Freya's hand was there, and his gaze landed on her face.

Understanding, he gave her a nod, and at the first opportunity, he stood up, clearing the bowls. "Well dad, this, this was great, thank you! But it's getting late, and I should walk Freya home now..."

Gobber piped up. "Aye! But she's a dragon rider! Surely she can fly home without ye!"

Stoick shot his friend a look. "Gobber, enough. You two go on, I'll take care of all of this."

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

Once back outside, Hiccup felt like he could breathe again.

"Well...that was... eventful."

Running a hand through his hair, he debated a bit before he looked into her eyes. "Can I? Walk you home, that is?"

#asks #threads #justpeaxchy #(((oh no!!#i am grateful you did write it all again tho!! it was sooo good!!)))

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nicohischier · 8 months ago

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get to know me

tagged by: @hischiersjohnston thank you bestie

didn't tag anyone* due to my chronic fear of being annoying but pls snoop all you like

do you make your bed? no, i'm simply way too lazy in the morning to make my bed.

favourite number? 8! i was born on 8/8 so i guess the number just stuck out to me lol

what’s your job? i'm currently in that super fun period of being recently graduated with no prospects, no experience, and no network. also a lot of anxiety. i'm working on it.

if you could go back to school, would you? yeah. i still might go back in a few years to do education or something.

can you parallel park? once upon a time i could, but now i don't drive (classic lack of car woes) so i'm pretty comfortable in saying i can't parallel park anymore.

do you think aliens are real? yes, absolutely. i'm not saying i believe that there's a whole civilized society hanging out a few billion light years away, but the category of aliens extends into every living life form, no matter how insentient or microscopic. the universe is simply too vast for me to even entertain the idea that earth is the only planet or other celestial body capable of sustaining plant life or single cell organism or whatnot.

can you drive a manual car? no! tbh at this point it's been so long since i've drove period, that idk if i'm even allowed to say i can drive an automatic lmao

guilty pleasure? i cannot deny that i have spent money on genshin to get characters/weapons and while i fully acknowledge that i've given into the gacha trap, i spend responsibly and never in excess. it's a game i genuinely love and i do believe that adults are free to spend their money wherever they wish. some people buy cigarettes, i buy little anime characters.

tattoos? world's saddest no. i would like to get some tho, i'm just generally the type of person who gets super invested in something for a while and then drops it after a while, which includes tattoo ideas. right now i'm flirting with the cassiopeia constellation (name of my favourite kpop groups fandom), "we don't need the memories" which is a team motto from haikyuu, line art of a cat because i'm a cat person, and some others with personal significance. and some more fandom ones. but fandom ones are finicky so. shrug.

favourite colour? i do dearly love the colour red. also a big fan of taupe, which is. probably the most boring answer i could give. "oh yeah my favourite colour? beige." god.

favourite type of music? to the surprise of hopefully none of you, i'm a kpop fan. i also really love whatever genre of music guys like alexander stewart and lewis capaldi make.

do you like puzzles? yes so much! i got so into a puzzle the other day that i was up until 5am doing it like i fr just didn't notice how long i was doing it 😭

any phobias? i used to have such a bad fear of spiders. now it's just big ones that freak me out or ones that are on me. i'm working on getting over it though. bugs in general make me feel a bit sick to me stomach tho i won't lie.

favourite childhood sport? i used to be a gymnastics kid lol. was super into pro gymnasts for a little bit, but generally it was a sport i preferred actually doing.

do you talk to yourself? yes and it's so embarrassing because i fucking do it in public without realizing. one day i was in the bookstore talking myself through choosing a book to buy when someone turned the corner and was like "oh! it's just you!". that was almost my 13th reason i am so fucking serious.

tea or coffee? tea if it's hot, coffee if it's cold.

first thing you wanted to be when growing up? wanted to be a vet soooo bad. then i grew up and realized how scary chemistry and biology are and figured maybe i would leave that to the science brained people 😭

what movies do you adore? well my letterboxd top movies are inception, les miserables, the outsiders, and the old guard which is. sorta accurate. the first three are definitely true. i could slot miracle (2004), brokeback mountain, legally blonde, kingsman, etc. into my fave movies list over TOG if i'm being honest but. yknow how it is.

tagging: @sportsnet tyler do this or else.

#*anyone excluding tyler bc i always force tyler to at least consider doing every tag game i get tagged in #thanks for the tag bree <3 #tagged #not hockey

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vashtijoy · 2 years ago

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fic excerpt: akechi and shido

So I wrote ... a lot, back in December and January, and I got distracted from it. I looked this up last night for unrelated reasons and I quite like it, so here it is. CW for Shido being Shido, essentially.

Akechi is sixteen in this. I'd write it differently now—I don't think Shido is routinely abusive to Akechi (he's playing a different game), and I think Akechi is much more of an active agent in his own corruption. Plus he tells Shido up front that he has "special powers".

nonetheless here it is or something

---

That Friday evening, he does his week’s work for Shido: a blackmail dossier to compile, an interrogation, and two junior Diet members whose personal loyalty needs refreshing. The amount he’s called on to do is steadily building, but that’s good. Shido’s ambitions are growing. His own bastard son, Akechi gloats, is already the secret jewel in his crown.

He sends all the information he’s gathered to Shido’s encrypted dropbox, expecting a brief text of acknowledgement, and maybe a “well done”; there’s some really juicy material in that dossier.

Instead, he gets a summons to Shido’s apartment. An ugly shiver runs down his spine. Does he know? He can’t possibly.

Pulling himself together, he grabs his jacket and heads out of the door.

When he gets there, Shido greets him with a shot of whiskey. “Good work this week,” he says.

Akechi gathers himself; praise has always been a weak spot of his. Then he takes the glass, but doesn’t drink it. “I’m underage for this, Shido-san. In fact, I’m very underage for this.”

Shido snorts. “You’re underage for a lot of the things you do. Sit down.”

Akechi sits. He mostly got alcohol out of his system before he was twelve, and he has no intention of drinking the shot unless Shido makes him. The mere fact that he’s offered it has sent Akechi’s every last nerve into high alert.

Shido asks not about the dossier, but about the interrogation—finding out whether a senior police chief is open to bribes. “Tell me how you confirmed that.”

Akechi swallows. “I asked him, Shido-san. I think you’ll find it to be the case.”

“You asked him. You.” And Akechi knows what Shido is seeing: a slight, soft-faced boy in clothes he could never afford himself, somebody who could never be truly intimidating, let alone go up against the police and walk away.

The shiver down his spine becomes a trail of ice water.

“You’re hiding your light under a bushel, Akechi,” Shido goes on. “I know it will check out. Everything you’ve done for me has checked out. Things it should be impossible for anyone to know, things I’m not even sure these bastards know themselves.”

The untouched shot is tilting in Akechi’s hand. Shido has him pinned like a bug, eyes cutting right to his secrets, right to his soul and everything he’s planned. He takes a breath. “As a clever man, Shido-san, you must realise my methods are… unusual.”

Shido snorts again. Akechi tries not to flinch. Then Shido downs his own shot and puts down his glass. “And you flatter me like you were born to it, too.”

He sits back in his chair. “Tell me what you know about how thought affects reality.”

Akechi stares. Just stares at Shido in shock, totally off-balance. And in that moment he knows he’s given himself away. His hand is shaking; he sets his glass down on the table with an unsteady clink.

Shido is watching him, mouth curled in satisfaction. It looks familiar as hell, Akechi dimly registers. “You know, boy,” he says, “I think that’s the first real response I’ve ever seen from you. I was starting to wonder if you were even human.” Akechi bites his lip to contain his screams of what the fuck! “Don’t feel bad. I guess I did spring that one on you.”

… Actually, Akechi thinks he preferred the raptor’s claws to this fake bonhomie. He takes a breath, thinks he can talk without his voice cracking. “I’m fascinated to know how you deduced that.”

“It’s been an interest of mine for some time,” Shido says. “Cognitive psience generally, and”—his eyes fix on Akechi—“the cognitive world.”

Akechi feels his jaw drop, fuck! Fuck, he knows everything! Carefully, he closes his mouth and folds his hands in his lap. “Cognitive science?”

“Pscience. A quirk of the researchers, who are as taxing as researchers generally are.” The mention of research catches Akechi’s attention, and Shido’s voice drops in disdain. “Don’t tell me you were stupid enough to think only you knew about any of this.”

It hurts. Somewhere Akechi didn’t know he could be hurt, those words and that tone stab him. But he gives Shido his best level look; it’s not terrific right now, admittedly, his hands are still shaking, but in the depths of his panic he’s starting to get the measure of what’s going on.

“What I don’t understand, Shido-san, is why you’re telling me any of this. You obviously have an advantage over me, in that you understand more of how I work than I was comfortable revealing. Why give that up?”

He realises the answer just as Shido smiles like a snake.

“Imagine it,” Shido says. “Me, chosen for a greater destiny, striving to make sense of the cognitive world. And you, with what seems to be an inborn ability to use that world, and the wish to make my destiny a reality. Call it fate, if you like.”

Huh. That … is a bit strange. Akechi’s not sure he wouldn’t have taken another route entirely, like beating his father’s shadow until it stopped twitching, if he’d known Shido was this familiar with the Metaverse.

“It does seem a little unlikely,” Akechi agrees, zigzagging around a fawning tone and coming down on curious. “Far more than mere chance could account for.”

“Mm,” Shido agrees, pleased now that Akechi is back in his box, now that his ego has been suitably massaged. He leans in. “But I want to know how you do it. These researchers—” he waves a dismissive hand—“they have oceans of theories. Reams of useless experimental data. You could put all of them out of a job.”

And the trickle of ice water down his back becomes a torrent, even as the praise coaxes him to obey. He wants to replace me. Or to train others to do what I do. Or even to do it himself. Because, of course, depending on one boy, no matter how talented, was never going to satisfy a megalomaniac like Shido. Not somebody who sees the people around him as dirt under his feet.

Not that Akechi doesn’t feel the same. It’s just that he has no delusions that he isn’t dirt as well.

“I’d very much like to see that research,” he dares.

“You will,” Shido promises. “In time.”

And in time, Akechi knows, means never. Or, never, unless you tell me what I want, and do what I want. Unless you please me.

I’m not going to tell him about Loki. I’m just not. He has no way to know, and I don’t need to give that away. I’m not going to tell him I transform, that would just sound ridiculous. I’m not going to tell him how I do what I do.

But maybe I can satisfy him with the mechanism?

Shido’s smile is broadening. As if he thinks he sees Akechi already on the hook. Struggling to look his father in the eye, Akechi sees him for what he is, crocodile smile, flattery and all. He thinks of his mother, the same way he’d prick himself with a pin. He hears her speak his name though he can’t recall her voice, breathes her perfume though he can’t remember its scent.

And still he starts to speak.

“You encounter an image of your target in the cognitive world.”

“Their shadow. Yes.”

He has Shido’s full attention. Nobody has ever, ever been as interested in Akechi Goro as Shido is right now.

“And it speaks as they do? It thinks and acts as they do?”

Akechi shakes his head. “Not exactly.”

“In what way is it different?”

“Shadows are honest. They don’t lie to themselves. And they can’t lie to me.”

Shido regards him. Akechi is struck with the feeling he might have made a mistake. “And why is that?”

He chooses his words carefully. “Because I know how to question them.”

The regard grows deeper, sharper, more amused. “You torture them.”

Akechi’s mouth opens. He’s actually never thought of it like that. Shadows aren’t real. But because Shido seems to approve, and because it’s true, and because Akechi is a short-sighted idiot, for all of these reasons, he says, “Sometimes, Shido-san. Not always.”

“Why not always?”

“Because not all of them are so protective of their secrets. They can’t lie, Shido-san, but they do resist.”

Shido drops back in his seat, pours a glass of water for himself. He doesn’t pour one for Akechi, who has done most of the talking. “How old are you, again?”

Akechi’s eyes flick up. “Sixteen.”

“Fifteen when you came to me in February.”

“Yes.”

Shido does pour Akechi a drink then, pushing it across the table. Akechi takes it and sips; it’s just water. Shido’s eyes strip him to nothing, shirt and sweater, skin, muscle and bone. He knows what Shido’s thinking: that Akechi is a psychopath, the sort of child who stabs small animals just to see them bleed.

He finds he doesn’t particularly care if that’s true or not, which probably gives him the answer. But shadows aren’t human. That’s the whole point. You can do anything you want to a human’s shadow, within reason; there are effects, but never more than mild subconscious ones. Not unless you do something really dramatic.

Admittedly, Akechi does have a flair for the dramatic, when he’s let off his leash.

He wonders how many cameras are recording this conversation, and just how incriminating it is.

Shido lifts his glass, still stripping Akechi with that stare. “And have you ever spoken to my shadow?”

Akechi reaches for Loki, heart pounding. “Of course.”

“Why?”

“I’d hope that would be obvious, Shido-san,” he dissembles. “I wanted to work for somebody who could go all the way to the top.”

“Of course you did,” Shido mocks. Akechi lifts his chin, just a little. “And somebody who would take you all the way with them.”

He risks a smile, just a small one. “That would be for you to decide, of course. My intent is to be useful enough to be worth taking with you. With all the abilities at my disposal.”

Swirling the water in his glass as if he wishes it was something else, Shido finally looks away. “Settle your mind on that score, boy. You are that. So far.”

Akechi can’t help being pleased; everything is working exactly as he hoped. Assuming the other shoe that’s about to drop doesn’t break his neck.

He doesn’t have to wait long. Shido looks back up at him like a basilisk, with eyes meant to paralyse, to see Akechi’s secrets engraved on his retinas, and he asks:

“What would happen if you kept torturing them?”

Akechi nearly drops his glass. “Shido-san?”

“Don’t play stupid with me now, boy. Answer the question.”

Stupid is the least of it. There’s only one way this ends, only one reason Shido would ask a question like that. Akechi’s fingers knit carefully around the glass, locking themselves in place. “You’re asking, um—”

He swallows, suddenly very sure the room is not being recorded. “You’re asking me if it’s possible to inflict harm on a human’s shadow—indefinitely?” No, idiot, he wants to know if you can kill them. But I’m not going to tell him that. I won’t. Hell, I don’t even know if I can do that!

Shido’s basilisk glare turns to acid and ice. He leans in, smacks his glass down on the table with a sharp clink that makes Goro jump. “You know exactly what I’m asking. What happens if you destroy somebody’s shadow?”

Goro licks his lips. He feels damp inside his clothes. “I—I don’t know, Shido-san. I’ve never needed to go so far. I’m not even sure it’s—”

“Don’t lie to me!”

Shido gets to his feet. Curls his lip. Goro stares up at him, frozen, a rabbit beneath a hawk, spilling blood and sinew along with the soul in its eye. “I didn’t expect to find you weak,” Shido spits, turning to the window. “How disappointing. I guess it was all big words after all.”

Goro leaps to his feet, losing what little of his fake manner he’d hung onto. He cannot let it end here. He can’t. He won’t. He swore it to himself, and to the ghost of his mother. “I’m not weak!”

It doesn’t impress Shido. Shido is preoccupied with the window, with all the lights of the centre of government spread out far below. Goro stares at his back, lips drawn back, fists clenched, desperate to be the hawk. “Shido-san. Give me a name. Any name. And I’ll test it for you.”

I’ll do anything for you.

And Shido turns back to Goro, away from the window, and he measures out his smile in the tiniest dose.

It’s late by the time Akechi escapes.

His homework is done, at least. But it’s past midnight, and he has school in the morning, and his head is spinning. He doesn’t want to cross into the Metaverse—he feels watched.

If he heads down toward Roppongi, he can probably still get a coffee. So that’s where he goes, a small figure trying to be untouchable, under a dark sky.

He’s probably about to kill somebody. And he thinks he’s fine with that, now that the shock has worn off. He knows the kinds of people Shido targets—filth at least as bad as he is. Is filth more important than the memory of his mother? Than Akechi himself?

He has a little more trouble with the second question than the first, but fortunately he doesn’t need to think too hard about it. His hands slip into his jacket pockets.

#persona 5 #goro akechi #masayoshi shido #things i write

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babyboibucky · 4 years ago

Text

Elevate Thy Hate

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Not a day goes by that you and Bucky don’t argue.

Word Count: 4,642

Warnings: Cliché plot but slight angst, self-doubt and Bucky being a loveable idiot who sucks at communicating

A/N: Surprise one-shot because I just remembered I wrote this like...last year lmfao

MAIN MASTERLIST

You woke up feeling great and excited. The mission was finally finished, debriefings were done and reports have been submitted. Everyone was given an entire week to get some rest and since rest days were pretty rare, you truly looked forward to this day.

Before you could even saunter in the kitchen, you had already heard the chatters from your fellow Avengers. One particular voice irked you though but hell no, you weren’t going to let one Bucky Barnes ruin your day.

A chorus of good mornings greeted you as soon as you walked into the kitchen. Nat and Steve were on one side of the counter sipping their coffee while Sam and Wanda were finishing up their food. Tony and Bruce were out of sight, probably holed up in the lab doing experiments as usual. Bucky didn’t acknowledge you and quickly headed out of the kitchen, thankfully. You weren’t in the mood to pick a fight.

Walking up to the cupboards, you quickly grabbed you favorite cereal and proceeded to pour it out on your bowl. None came out though. You peeked inside bag and saw that only crumbs of it were left.

“Who the—“

Everyone was already pointing at Bucky when you turned around to ask. And of course, Bucky did it on purpose because he stood there at the end of the hallway, watching you with smug grin on his face.

“I hope your day sucks.” He said and flipped you the bird before turning around to walk away.

You groaned out loud, ignoring the amused chuckles from everyone else in the kitchen.

“I’m not stooping down to your level, asshole! I hope your day is average!”

The day was fortunately uneventful, except for your ruined breakfast care of Bucky. You were determined not to let that annoy you for the rest of the day. So far, so good. You could only wish it’d continue that way for the rest of the week.

“I told you not to rush!” Bucky snapped.

“I had him already! If you didn’t throw that goddamn smoke grenade I would’ve killed him!” You explained.

You could see Sam shaking his head in frustration. Bucky always had to blame something on you even though you weren’t the one at fault.

Bucky snorted, “He had a sniper for fuck’s sake! One shot and you’re dead.”

“Oh wow, says the one who got shot before I did.” You rolled your eyes at Bucky.

The two of you continued to bicker until Nat and Steve walked into the living room looking confused as you and Bucky exchanged insults while Sam remained sandwiched between the both of you on the couch.

“Who got shot?” Steve asked, glancing at you and Bucky alternately.

“Did we miss out on a mission or...?” Nat continued.

Sam chuckled, “We were playing Call of Duty and we lost.” He explained, taking the opportunity to get up from the sofa.

Steve still looked lost, something that Nat immediately picked up. “It’s a video game.” She explained.

“You two are fighting over a game?” He asked you and Bucky.

“They fight over everything.” Nat shrugged and walked out of the room with Sam tagging behind her.

“I’m outta here too, I’m so done babysitting the kids.” He muttered under his breath.

It was past midnight when you were in the living room alone, watching television while eating a Whopper. The lights were turned off and it was absolutely quiet in the compound, setting the perfect ambience for the crime documentary you were watching.

Not long after, you heard someone walk into the living room. It was only when your heard the familiar grunt that you realized who it was. Of course, it had to be Bucky.

“Are you eating a burger?” He asked incredulously.

“No, it’s popcorn. Of course it’s a fucking burger, are you blind or just dumb?” You snapped, your eyes still glued on the television.

“Dumbfounded that you’re eating that at this hour. No wonder you suck at cardio.” Bucky said as he sat down on the other end of the sofa.

“Are you body-shaming me?” You gasped.

Bucky snickered, “I didn’t say anything, I just said you suck at cardio.” He said, not looking at you.

You chose to ignore him and brought your attention back to the television. It was quiet for moment. You almost forgot about Bucky’s presence until of course, he decided to annoy you yet again.

“Can you pass the remote?” Bucky asked monotonously.

“No.”

Silence.

“This show sucks.” He commented.

You were focused on the show but noticed that Bucky was staring at you.

“Can you please pass the remote?” He asked again.

“In case you didn’t notice, I’m watching. I was here first. I hold the rights to control the remote.” You deadpanned, refusing to look at him.

There was a flash of black and gold right before your eyes. Everything happened quickly and the next thing you knew, Bucky was hovering above you, trapping you between his body and the arm rest of the sofa.

“The fuck, Barnes?! Get off of me!” You protested and started pushing him away.

“You gotta work on your reflexes, darling.” He said, finally leaning away from you, remote now in his hand.

He grinned triumphantly and switched the channel before placing the remote inside his sweatpants, “Want to switch the channel? Come and get it.” he taunted as he leaned back on the couch, opening his legs wide as he showed off how the remote created a tent in his sweatpants.

That was the remote...right? You mentally slapped yourself for actually thinking about what Bucky was packing beneath those pants and frowned.

“You’re an asshole and a disgusting one.” You told him.

“God, I hate you.” You muttered and crumpled the wrapper of your burger before throwing it at Bucky.

Deciding that you didn’t want to argue any further, you got up and left the living room, but not without telling Bucky again how much you hated him for making your life miserable.

“The feeling is mutual.” You heard him say.

The petty fights with Bucky went on and on during that entire week of rest. Despite the arguments, there were small moments of kindness shared between you and the soldier.

“Where are you going dressed up so nicely?” You asked Bucky upon seeing him walk into the kitchen wearing a leather jacket on top of a black shirt, dark, tight-fitting jeans and a pair of Doc Martens.

It was meant as an insult, of course. You took every opportunity to tease Bucky and his newfound sense of fashion. Said fashion meant his taste for very millennial outfits despite his old age.

“Grocery.” He replied as he went over to the fridge to pour himself a glass of water.

“Ooh, can you buy me Starbucks on your way back? I’ll pay.” You asked kindly.

Bucky just stared at you as he drank from his glass of water. He slammed it on the counter before walking past you.

“Not a damn chance.”

He did buy you Starbucks though. It didn’t shock you that much considering that the both of you didn’t hate on each other all the damn time. But what surprised you was that he brought you your usual drink and your favorite pastry too.

Steve must have forced him to do so, probably told his best friend your usual orders as well so you made a note to thank him as soon as they got back.

And thank Steve you did, but you didn’t expect the reply that you got.

“Oh was that the reason why Bucky kept bugging me about stopping by Starbucks?” Steve asked.

You narrowed your eyes at him, “What do you mean? I thought he told you I asked him to buy me Starbucks.”

Steve chuckled, “I guess now I know why he wouldn’t shut up about it.” he said, amusement laced in his tone.

“I don’t understand, Cap.” you said.

Steve just smiled at you in response before squeezing your shoulder, “Maybe you will understand soon.”

And with that, he left you feeling even more confused. You honestly didn’t understand the context of the conversation so you decided to just ignore it. Steve sometimes would say weird shit that none of the Avengers knew about. You dismissed it and thought that maybe it was Steve being a decade old, it was probably an old man thing.

You decided to make coffee for Bucky the following day, as a simple gesture to thank him for the Starbucks. He didn’t ask you to pay him back so you felt obligated to do a little something for him. You were an asshole to him sometimes, yes, but that didn’t mean you weren’t going to give credit where credit is due.

Okay, so maybe you didn’t really hate Bucky. If you did actually hate him, the entire team would probably do something about it. Maybe force the two of you to talk things out. The hatred was all fun and games, everyone seemed to be amused by it too.

You still considered Bucky your friend despite the constant bickering. You had to admit, the arguments were pretty fun.

Although, you were wondering whether Bucky felt the same about considering you as his friend. Sometimes, his attitude towards you confused the hell out of you.

One day he’d eat the chocolate you’ve been saving up for cheat day just to spite you. And it definitely did because you ended up cursing him out loud when you saw him munching on it. The next day he brought you a new one. You were watching Netflix when he waltzed into the living room and threw a bar of chocolate at your lap before walking out without saying a word.

These exchange of small yet kind (and confusing) gestures remained unacknowledged. You didn’t know why but you also didn’t feel the need to talk about them. You weren’t going to lie but Bucky’s random acts of kindness would always put a smile on your face.

The vacation unfortunately came to an end and everyone had to go back to saving the world. All of you were gathered in the conference room with Fury for a briefing about the next mission. It wasn’t as big as the last one but it still required a lot of planning.

After explaining the mission, Fury let Steve take over the meeting to strategize.

Some were assigned to do surveillance around the parameter while some were appointed to do all the groundwork. Steve of course, just had to partner you with Bucky to do the actual infiltration given that your skills complemented each other’s.

You grinned and was prepared to roast Bucky’s ass when you turned to him and was met with a scowl. He shook his head with what you assumed was disappointment and turned away from you.

It was the first time he ever dismissed you like that. Sure, you were rude to each other but the look that Bucky gave you wasn’t a teasing one. He wasn’t mocking you nor frustrated. Bucky seemed to really hate the idea of being partnered with you. It was the first time that the two of you had to work together without anyone else. Usually, Steve or Sam joined but for this mission, it was just you and Bucky. Concluding that he must have woken up at the wrong side of the bed, you chose to ignore your gut feeling and focused back to Steve.

After the meeting, everyone else exited the room and started with the preparations for the mission. As you walked down the hallway leading to your bedroom, you heard some soft chattering coming from Steve’s bedroom.

You were supposed to ignore it until you heard your name, making you stop in your tracks.

“I can’t be partnered with her, Steve.”

Bucky.

“Buck, just go with it. I can’t be changing assignments at the last minute.” Steve explained.

Bucky sighed, “You know I can’t function properly when she’s around, let alone be partnered with her. She distracts me, Steve. Her skills distract me and I swear on our friendship, I would end up dying on this assignment.”

“You’re being overly dramatic, Buck. Just suck it up, pal. Do the mission and get it over with.”

“Steve, you don’t understand. I really can’t deal with her. Especially if it’s just the two of us. You know how much I fucking—“

“Hate me?”

You couldn’t help but interject in their conversation. How could you not? Bucky was complaining about how he couldn’t deal with you. It really hurt hearing Bucky say all those things about you. Sure, you were somewhat new to the team and you didn’t have superpowers nor years of training like the rest. But you worked your ass off to be in this position. And for him to say that he couldn’t function with you being around struck a nerve. The last thing on your mind was to hold back your teammates, that’s why you train twice, thrice as hard.

Steve and Bucky stared at you as if they’ve seen a ghost. It’s as if all their blood was drained out of their body when they saw you step inside the room. Bucky was about to say something but you decided to cut him off, not wanting to hear more about how he doesn’t want to be partnered with you.

“We don’t get along that well, I get that. But I honestly thought that our arguments were harmless. Hell, I consider us friends. I didn’t think that you actually hated me.” Your voice quivered because you were truly, deeply hurt.

“That’s not what I meant.” Bucky insisted.

“You literally said that you might end up dying because of being partnered with me, Bucky! Look, I know that I don’t have a super serum running through my veins. I can’t move things with my mind and I can’t come up with life-changing tech. I wasn’t trained since childhood nor have the perfect aim. But I worked hard to be in this team. I trained hard not to be a burden to anyone and I’m sorry if my skills aren’t up to your standards.”

What did you even do to Bucky for him to hate you this much?

“Don’t worry, I won’t burden you. Once this mission is over, I won’t bother you anymore. Ever.” You said before walking out of the way, ignoring Bucky when he had repeatedly called your name.

The ride to the location was filled with tension. Although everyone else had no idea what happened, they somehow knew that the tension had something to do with you and Bucky.

Thankfully, the quinjet was big enough for you not to end up sitting beside Bucky.

“You okay?” Wanda asked, noticing how restless you were.

What you heard definitely affected you in more ways than one. You kept on double checking your weapons, your gadgets and you even ended up doubting yourself. Were you really equipped to be an Avenger? Steve said that Bucky was merely overacting but what if he was right? What if you weren’t skilled enough to protect him or your teammates?

“That’s not true.” Wanda said out of the blue. “I didn’t mean to read your mind, though. Your thoughts are coming off too strong, kinda hard to ignore.” She said apologetically.

You softly laughed, “I should really be staying away from you.” You joked.

Wanda smiled and placed her hand on top of yours, “I mean it though. You’re amazing at what you do. I don’t understand why you’re doubting yourself about being an Avenger.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you offered Wanda a grateful smile. You noticed that Bucky had been staring at you the entire time but simply ignored him. You weren’t going to let him snap you out of your focus.

Once on location, everyone started to split up and listened for Steve’s orders through the comms. You and Bucky managed to get inside the base, all thanks to Nat and the Hulk who handled all the guards.

The building was completely empty when the two of you walked around in search of the hidden quarters where all the intel were kept.

Bucky whistled to get your attention, you turned and saw that he was motioning towards what seemed to be a regular brick wall. However, there were a few bricks out of place and upon examining it, you realized it was some sort of a secret door. You managed to figure out which bricks to push and thankfully, it didn’t take you long enough to open the door which revealed an old, steel elevator.

“We found the entrance, Steve.” Bucky said into the comms.

“Careful in there, there were suspiciously a few guards within the parameters. They all might be in there.” Nat warned.

You heaved out a deep breath before stepping into the elevator with Bucky trailing behind you. There was only one button in the elevator, a red one.

“Can someone scan the elevator and make sure this button won’t set off any boobie trap or something?” You asked nervously as you inspected the elevator for any hidden traps.

The comms cracked with Sam’s voice. “Button is safe although...” he trailed.

“Although what?” Bucky asked, examining the elevator as well.

“You’re in for a long ride.”

You frowned, “How long?” You asked.

“Can’t see. It’s way too deep.”

Sam was able to scan the entire base and true enough, the elevator would lead deep down into the hidden laboratory. How deep into the ground it was, none could tell. Neither Sam nor Tony’s technology could see through due to the lack of signal. Steve said it might be dangerous to proceed given that there were no other ways into the lab except for the elevator.

The lack of signal down there meant no communication.

“Guys, I don’t think it’s a good idea to continue with this mission.” Steve said.

“But we’re so close, Steve.” You said.

“I think Steve is right. It’d be hard to call for back up when things go south.” Bucky interjected, not even sparing you a glance.

You snorted. Bucky sure wasn’t overacting when he was complaining about your skills. He definitely didn’t trust you. You weren’t going to settle for that.

“We won’t need any back up.”

And with that, you pressed the red button and completely ignored everyone’s warnings through the comms. Bucky looked at you with disbelief and tried to press the red button again in hopes of halting the elevator. However, the brick wall had closed and the elevator started its descent.

“Why the fuck did you do that?!” He yelled and tried to search the elevator for some sort of stop button.

“We’ll follow soon!” Steve’s voice was the last you heard before your comms completely lost its signal.

“Christ, we don’t even know whether it’s the lab that’s down there!” Bucky said, continuing his search for anything that would bring the both of you up to the ground floor.

“I’m not as stupid as you think I am. All secret doors lead to a top secret room and no, we won’t be needing any back up because I am totally capable of taking down anyone who gets in the way.” You stubbornly replied and leaned against the wall.

You wondered how long the elevator ride was going to be. At the speed that it’s going, it wasn’t impossible to take at least fifteen to twenty minutes if the lab was really far down into the ground. Bucky’s frustration was evident from the way he kept on inspecting the elevator walls. At first it was easy to ignore but Bucky was becoming more and more desperate to find a way to go back up.

“Your desperation to stay away from me is just...astounding.” You said with a bitter chuckle.

“I’m finding a way to get out of here, not away from you.” Bucky explained calmly.

You shook your head, “You don’t trust me to keep you alive, I get it. But can you tone it down even for just a bit?” You spat at him.

Bucky pressed the bridge of his nose and let out an exasperated sigh, “You don’t need to keep me alive.”

“Of course not, you don’t need me to do so ‘cause you’re so capable. How did I not think of that?” At this point, you couldn’t stop the word vomit.

You had tons of things to say to Bucky to prove to him that you were totally good at what you do, that he didn’t need to underestimate you just because you were a new addition to the team.

“That’s not what I mean.” Bucky explained again.

It was starting to annoy you that the more you were becoming agitated, the calmer he was becoming. And he kept on telling you that he meant differently with his statements but he never really attempted to further explain his side.

“Then what do you mean, Bucky?” You pressed. “What did I ever do to you for you to hate me this much? Did I say something offensive? Do I have to train 24/7 for you to think that I deserve to be working alongside the Avengers?” You kept on babbling on and on and on.

Bucky rubbed his face with his hand, “I don’t hate you, okay?” He doesn’t even spare you a look.

All this time, he was looking at anything but you and it was really getting on your nerves.

“See? You keep on telling me that you don’t hate me but you can’t even look at me! I mean, if you really loathe me then own up to it! It hurts me more that you keep on denying it when you can’t even explain a damn thing. At least tell me why!” You were never an emotional person and Bucky knew that, so when he finally turned to look at you, he was surprised to see you on the verge of tears.

“Hey, hey...” Bucky coaxed and tried to hold you but you stepped away from him.

“Just please tell me why, Buck. Tell me and I promise to stay away. If you think I suck at being an Avenger to the point of irritating you, tell me so I can train my fucking ass off until you deem me fit to be an Avenger. If my jokes offended you, I’m sorry. If I—“

“It’s because I like you.”

“...what?”

Bucky Barnes...likes you? It’s as if the silence went on forever inside the elevator that seemed to keep going. How long were the two of you inside it anyway? You couldn’t tell anymore and you didn’t know whether Bucky was simply fooling around with you.

“That’s not funny.” You said.

Bucky shook his head, “It’s not a joke.”

You stared at him doubtfully, “Explain.” You demanded.

Bucky licked his lips and let out a soft chuckle, “I’m an idiot.” He said.

“That doesn’t explain anything. If any, I’d think you’re simply fucking with me.” You pointed out and crossed your arms over your chest.

That seemed to urge Bucky to finally explain. “What you heard in Steve’s room was correct.”

“So you really hate me.”

Bucky groaned, “Let me finish, please?” He pleaded. When you remained silent, he continued to explain himself.

“You really do distract me during missions. Because you’re so amazing and I never doubted your skills. But I also get worried and I hate it when I see you in pain or wounded and it fucking distracts me. I didn’t want to be partnered with you because when I see you, I just...fuck. I like you that much. You kick someone’s ass and I’d end up watching you with awe that it’d cause me my own demise. That’s what I meant. That I’d probably end up dying because whenever you’re around, you have my full attention.”

The anger within you dissipated just like that. You could feel your face heat up from Bucky’s unexpected confession.

“But you’re an asshole to me.” You pointed out.

Bucky laughed, “Because that’s how I get your attention. You walk into a room with a kind-hearted super soldier, a witty bird brain and a few more intelligent men and yet I’d be the first one you’d acknowledge. With a snarky comment but still, attention is attention. It’s the only way I get to interact with you without feeling awkward. I suck at conversations, I mean, you heard me and though I was hating on you when I was merely blabbering to Steve about how much I like you.”

This time, you couldn’t hold back your laughter. All along, Bucky was finding a way to talk to you even though it meant constant arguments over the pettiest things. To be fair though, he really did suck at communicating.

“I’m sorry that it came across like that.” Bucky apologized sincerely. “I hope this doesn’t change anything between us.” He admitted.

You shrugged, “Oh but it does. In fact, it changes everything.”

Bucky’s face fell.

“Because I think I like you too and I kinda want for things to change. For the better of course.” You grinned.

Bucky chuckled and scratched his forehead bashfully, “You think, huh? Not sure?” He asked and turned to you just as the elevator doors opened.

Indeed, it led to the lab where almost all of the targets stayed. The man nearest the elevator had his gun pointed at Bucky but before he could even pull the trigger, Bucky had thrown his knife at him without even sparing a glance and choked the next guy to attack with his metal arm before throwing him towards a group of armed men. He was just gazing at you with a smittened smile.

“Still not sure about liking me back?”

Impressed at his gesture, you smirked.

“Now I am.”

By the time Steve, Nat and Sam walked out of the elevator, the mission had already been done. You walked towards the trio and handed Steve a USB.

“All their data is already saved there. Wiped out their entire system clean too.” You told him, voice chirpy and all.

Bucky was right behind you, a couple of folders in his hands before handing them to Sam, “Lotsa confidential info in there too which includes our next targets.” he said and walked past Sam with a certain jump in his steps.

The three exchanged glances before looking around the entire lab. Men were scattered on the floor, most were dead and others heavily injured.

“What the hell happened here?” Nat asked, avoiding the injured men on the ground as she walked around.

“The mission happened, Nat. All that matters now is that everything has been resolved. I mean, everything.” You said meaningfully and threw Bucky a flirty smile before walking into the elevator.

He followed suit and saluted at the three before pushing the red button. The doors weren’t even closed yet when Bucky couldn’t hold back and quickly leaned to press a soft kiss on your lips. An action that definitely didn’t go unnoticed by the three. You couldn’t help but chuckle when you noticed their reactions before the elevator closed.

Said trio stood there dumbfounded and confused as hell. Early on, the tension between you and Bucky was felt by everyone. The kind of tension then wasn’t even a sexual one. It was so intense that Nat was actually expecting to see you and Bucky at each other’s throats when they got down to the lab.

“Guess that the long ass elevator ride did something. Whatever was in that elevator seems interesting. Wanna go check it out, Nat?” Sam asked suggestively.

Steve chuckled and shook his head.

Nat simply smirked and walked past Sam, “In your dreams, Wilson.”

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3

#bbbwrites #oneshots: bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader #sebastian stan

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erimeows · 3 years ago

Text

Feverish

You were surprised to have been called to the med bay a little bit past nine in the evening, woken up by your phone ringing and Ratchet on the other end. You clutched your robe close to your body as you raced through the hallway, sleep in your eyes and worries in your head.

The lead medic had given you no explanation, only telling you to come meet him outside of the med bay as soon as you could before he hung up on you.

You wondered if it was an emergency, if someone was injured or dying, if something had happened during patrol- Wait, no. Their night patrols didn’t start for another hour or so, and if it had been an emergency, someone like Bumblebee or Optimus would’ve called you in a panic.

Still, the whole situation was weird, and you were worried, so when you saw Ratchet outside of the med bay leaning against one of the walls, you immediately approached him with your concern etched in your features.

Upon seeing you, Ratchet stood up straight, then put a strong servo on your shoulder in a reassuring manner before looking down at you. His pale blue optics burned into your (e/c) eyes, and though you tried your best, you couldn’t read his expression.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the medic spoke.

“Optimus Prime has fallen ill.”

“What?” You immediately sputtered, and your eyes flew to the door of the med bay; closed, you couldn’t even see Optimus. You just prayed that he was okay. In the time that you’d known the Prime and his team, you’d seen him injured or sick plenty, though the former was much more common. He never prioritized his own health and tried to push himself to do things, even when he was unwell, so he took forever to recover... Hopefully it wasn’t something severe. “How bad is it? Is he awake? Have you told the team yet?”

“Hey, hey, slow down. It’s nothing crazy, (y/n), so don’t worry,” Ratchet’s words, said in an uncharacteristically gentle tone, soothed you, if only a little. If it were serious or ‘crazy’ as he put it, he would’ve told you directly instead of lying, so you believed him. “This morning, I was the first to wake and go into the kitchen to make myself an energy booster when I saw him stumble in... As in, he was literally stumbling over himself and I could see steam rolling off of him from overheat. He insisted he was fine, but something was off, so I dragged him to the medbay for testing. He’s low on energon and coolant, he was overheating, and there was a minor glitch in his vents from some battle damage that I had to fix. He’s recovering fine, but my main concern is that his chassis seems to be overheating to kill an infection. I think it’s just your run-of-the-mill space bug based on the labs I did, so I gave him some antibiotics.”

“You didn’t answer some of my questions-” You started, now concerned with whether you could actually go and see Optimus or not.

It wasn’t uncommon for the red and blue bot to ignore his own needs, but for him to have ignored symptoms that could’ve turned into something much worse had Ratchet not caught them... You wondered if there was something bothering Optimus that was making him neglect himself, more than he usually would.

“So demanding, you youngin’s,” Ratchet huffed and rolled his optics at you. “It’s not that bad, he’s awake, and no, I haven’t told the others yet. Our nightly patrol is soon and I have to break the news to them somehow, which is why I called you here. You can’t go with us anyway and they need me since we’re down one bot, so I want you to stay with Prime. He responds the best to you...” You blinked and then blushed at that, (s/c) cheeks burning bright. It was true that you and Optimus were close, but for Ratchet to acknowledge it like that... Well, you were flattered. You’d loved Optimus for as long as you could remember, and even though Ratchet surely meant that in a platonic way, it was nice to know that the effort you put into your relationship with the bot meant something. “His condition isn’t from a decline in his physical health- I had to pry like hell to find out what it was, but Prime finally broke and told me that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten an energon cube or ran a self-evaluation to make sure he was functioning properly, which is why he’s energy-depleted and why the damage to his vents went unchecked. He’s so stressed from the leadership that this team needs that he isn’t taking care of himself anymore, and now, it’s led to him falling sick again. I think there’s something else going on in that processor of his, too, but he wouldn’t tell me anything else... I just know it’s more mental than anything.”

You stopped, frowning. What else could Optimus be hiding from everyone? Was he doing something dangerous? Had something happened? Was he breaking down from stress?

“O-Oh.. Okay,” You mumbled and leaned into the servo of Ratchet’s that was on your shoulder, sighing when he ran his thumb over a sore spot on the groove between said shoulder and your collar. The two of you had developed a close bond over the past couple years since they’d been on earth, with you, Sari’s tutor and caretaker, also acting as a second medic for the team with Ratchet’s training. While he’d trained you in how to care for the Autobots, you’d given him the basics of human anatomy and medical care, so with that time spent together, you were close- whether the old grump admitted it or not. “What about his medicine? How often does he take it? Is there anything else I need to do?”

“One pill every six human hours, they’re the white gel capsules that are rationed out on the table by Prime’s med-berth. I just gave him a dose, so don’t get him another one until three in the morning. He also needs to drink plenty of energon, coolant, and lubricant to get better, so make him do it, even if he gets pissy with you- shove it down his throat if you have to... But those are all things that I already told him, and he’s fully capable of taking care of himself. I don’t need you in there to take care of him so much as I need you to stay in there to make sure he doesn’t get up and do anything stupid. You know how he gets when he’s sick.”

“Unfortunately, I do...” You let out a long sigh and crossed your arms over your chest. It was going to be hard dealing with Optimus- hell, you could already imagine how he would be trying to sneak out of the med bay to go on patrol or trying to make you bring paperwork for him to do. You wouldn’t allow either, but considering how much larger he was than you, you’d have to convince him to relax instead of just being able to hold his aft down like Ratchet or Bulkhead could. “I’ll make sure he stays put. I’m assuming you’re taking over leadership until he recovers, Ratchet?”

“As the team medic, I’m second in command, so yeah... I have to. I’d let Prowl do it, but Primus knows he doesn’t want to, and I wouldn’t let Bumblebee or Bulkhead within a ten mile radius of any form of responsibility like this. I’m really the only option.”

“Right...” You imagined what a patrol without Optimus, led by a stressed and grouchy Ratchet would be like, and then cringed. “Good luck.”

“Thanks. I’ll need it.”

With that, Ratchet withdrew his servo from your shoulder and waved at you before turning around and walking down the hallway. You figured that Optimus shouldn’t be left alone for too long, so you quickly entered the med bay and shut the door behind you.

It was dark, with a small night light plugged into the walls that illuminated the room just a bit. You could see Optimus, who looked uncharacteristically pathetic, weakly laying on a med berth with a small side table on the ground next to him. On the table were some energon sticks, a cup of coolant, and the white pills that Ratchet had mentioned.

“(y/n), is that you?” Optimus asked, trying to sit up, but immediately groaning in what you assumed was pain and flopping back down. His eyes squeezed shut, a strained grimace taking over his face-plates. You pulled one of the stools by a wall-counter to the side of the room where Optimus’s berth was and put it right by his side table so you could sit by him. You were close to his face, so you leaned down to look at it as his optics slowly opened back.

He was sick, and it would take at least a few days if not a week to recover; you could tell just by looking at him. His ocean-hued optics were abnormally dark and foggy, his powder blue faceplates were stained dark with heat, and though he wasn’t steaming like Ratchet had described this morning, there was definitely still heat radiating from his frame.

“Yes, Optimus, it’s me... I’m here to watch over you,” You leaned in to kiss the top of his helm, able to feel just how hot the metal felt against you. When you pulled back, you frowned at the absurd amount of heat- almost hot enough to make your lips sting, while Optimus’s normal temperature was a bit cooler than that of an average human’s by a degree or two. “Ratchet called me down here and told me what’s going on a bit ago. The team’s on patrol right now.”

“Slag, I can’t believe Ratchet told you,” Optimus groaned again, this time in annoyance instead of pain. “I told him not to earlier when he was fixing my vents... He’s probably going to tell the rest of the team, too. I have to get up and go supervise the patrol-” He forced himself to sit up this time, forced back a wince, forced his optics to open fully, but the second you pressed a rushed hand to his chest plates and attempted to push him back, he froze.

“Oh, no you don’t!” You argued, eyebrows furrowing in frustration as a pout formed on your face.

“Oh, yes I do!” The Autobot argued back without hesitation, but didn’t actually move to push your hand away or leave even though he was fully capable of doing so, only resting one of his servos on the one of yours that was on his chest- stumbling and overheating or not, he was much larger and much stronger than you. Then again, he probably knew that Ratchet would beat him to a pulp the second he recovered if he dared lay a single digit on you to escape the med bay. “As much as I appreciate the concern, I don’t want it nor do I need it, and I certainly don’t want it from my team. It’s bad enough that you know. I know they’ll start asking questions when I don’t go on patrol with them, and if they hear that I got sick from overexerting myself and not getting enough rest and energon, they’ll never let me hear the end of it-”

“Well, maybe that’s what you need, so lay your stubborn ass down! I did not come here with my hair all fucked up and in this stupid robe in the middle of the night when I could’ve been sleeping just to have you run away from me when I’m trying to take care of you! You getting up right now just drives home how bad you are about prioritizing yourself,” Optimus’s plump and normally soft lips, now chapped from dehydration, pulled together into a tight frown- it was the face he made when he knew he was in the wrong. “You’re getting out of your bed when you’re supposed to be resting so you can go lie to your team and tell them you’re fine when you’re not, and for what? Your pride?”

“No, I just don’t want them to worry for me. I’m already stressed out enough and the last thing I need is for that to contribute to their struggles. They’re all dealing with so many of their own problems, and I’m sick of being a burden to everyone around me...”

Optimus huffed, but gave up and laid back down, much to your relief. He still held your hand, though, and you let him- even if he was sick, you didn’t want him to let go.

“You’re not a burden, and just like how they’re dealing with their problems, you’re dealing with yours. You don’t have to be perfect to be loved and respected, and not to insult your acting skills, but... They won’t believe you if you walk out there overheating and struggling to stay standing to tell them that you’re perfectly fine. Ratchet told me how you were stumbling around this morning.”

“I hate that you’re right,” He mumbled, and you wondered why he always had to be so childish when he was sick.

Then again, as much as you hated Optimus’s stubborn personality, it was a major component of who you’d gone and fallen in love with all that time ago. It was crazy, you thought; just the extent that you loved Optimus Prime to, and how terribly unaware he was of it. You thought it best to keep the fact hidden, as you didn’t know what his feelings were, and he had so much on his plate already... It hurt to think that he didn’t know how loved he was- not just by you, but by everyone around him, who he was always bending over backwards for, completely unaware that they’d do the exact same for him.

“And I hate that you treat yourself like this. Plus, as much as Ratchet threatens us all with consequences for our actions, he’s not going to tell them what’s going on in depth; just that you have a fever and that you’re resting, you know he respects patient confidentiality. He’ll probably even downplay it because he knows that’s what’ll make you happy.”

“No, you’re just trying to reassure me, but...” Optimus paused and let go of your hand, fully settling back into the berth. You took your hand back and looked off to the side, already missing his touch. “I know you want to, and that Ratchet probably told you to spend the night here and take care of me, but I’m alright now. I’ll stay and rest, I promise. You can go to your room to sleep, I know you’re usually not up this late, and I’d hate to keep you up with my problems.”

You didn’t really want to leave him, but you were tired, and you believed his words. His tone was genuine enough.

“Are you sure?” You asked and received a nod in return. So, you stood up and collected yourself. “Okay, if you’re sure... I’ll leave and go get some rest, then come back at three to give you your antibiotics and make sure you’ve got something on your stomach.”

Silence.

The second you turned around to leave, though, Optimus was grabbing the back of your robe and holding the cloth between his digits, tone low as he spoke again.

“Actually, (y/n), wait... Don’t leave me. I need you.”

You turned back around and looked at him, confused. Hadn’t he just told you seconds before that he was fine and that you should leave to go get some rest so that he could fall into recharge as well? What was with the sudden change of heart? Was there something going on with his physical condition, or was it something else?

“Huh? But Optimus, you said you needed to rest...” You muttered, which earned you a shake of his head in return.

“I will,” Optimus promised. “Please, just stay and don’t question it. I lied to you, I don’t know why, but I can’t be alone right now. Don’t leave me.”

The plead from him was unexpectedly vulnerable, honest, open. You appreciated it, but at the same time, you were concerned about what exactly was going on with him- you felt like there was more to the story than stress and leadership and lack of self-care. While all of that was definitely in character for Optimus Prime, there was something else that he wasn’t telling you about, too. With how close you were to him, it wasn’t abnormal for you to have deeper discussions, but for him to admit that he wanted- no, needed you there with him and couldn’t be alone was something you’d never thought you’d hear in your lifetime.

“Okay, I’ll stay until you tell me to go, then. Thank you for being honest with me.”

With that, you sat back down on the stool and looked at him. A little bit of that light had returned to his optics, but he still seemed like he was in rough shape.

“Thank you.”

Silence again.

Instead of adjusting to get comfortable and slip into recharge, Optimus just sat there with his back against the board of the berth, optics trained on you. It had taken a while to get used to when you’d first met him, but nowadays, you were used to the Prime’s intensity, especially when it came to eye/optic-contact. Still, though, the way he was staring at you now... You couldn’t quite interpret it. Then again, could you usually? Optimus was hard to read sometimes.

“You’re not resting,” You teased, but received a serious response in return.

“I’m thinking, and then I’ll rest.”

“You’re sick, the last thing you need to be doing is overthinking like you always do,” You reached out to him, rested your palm on the side of his face and tenderly ran a thumb over the apex of his cheek. Surprisingly, he leaned into your touch with a smile.

“What if it pertains to you? It’s either I tell you and get my closure, which is daunting, or I sit here overthinking it like I always do.”

You felt your heart drop to the bottom of your stomach and flinched. It had been obvious that something was on his processor, but it had to do with you? What was it? Did it have to do with your feelings? Tense, you talked again.

“...Have I done something? I’d rather you tell me.”

“You’ve made me fall in love with you.”

The words were whispered but still felt so loud, filling the room with their impact in a way that made your cheeks hot and your heart beat hard against your chest.

“Your illness must be making you delusional,” You laughed nervously, but Optimus only gave you a sloppy grin and laughed. You moved your hand to the top of his helm to check his temperature, but it hadn’t changed- as much as you wanted to believe it, you were sure he was being serious and not having feverous hallucinations like you’d initially suspected. Still, you thought it proper to ask. “Do you feel hot? Are you overheating again?”

“No, (y/n), I’m just in love with you,” Optimus peered at you, smile falling a bit. “I mean, yes, I am sick, and I’m still overheating, but I’ve been in love with you for- Ah, I’m actually not sure how long it’s been... I just know it’s been too long.”

There was a pause, in which the two of you seemed to be processing what important things were said; in the span of just a minute or two, Optimus had boldly laid his feelings out for you on the table, unabashed and proud, the tension that came with two years worth of pining that you’d been doing solved so... Quickly. You were surprised you hadn’t felt your jaw hit the floor.

Had he really loved you the whole time? Or was this a recent development? Why was he only telling you now? Had his stress over his feelings for you also contributed to his sickness?

“I’m not sure I can talk about this in good conscience when you’re so vulnerable,” You smiled back at him, (e/c) eyes meeting his ocean-hued optics as you removed your hand from his head. Shyly, he reached out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “It feels selfish, but... I love you, too, and that’s why I want you to rest and get better, maybe not stress out so much.”

You kissed the back of his servo as he pulled it away, earning what you hoped was a blush and not more symptoms of overheating.

“I’d kiss you if I weren’t afraid of getting you sick,” Optimus sighed. You were sure that you probably couldn’t catch whatever he had going on since he was a Cybertronian and you were human, but you didn’t want to test that theory, so you left it alone.

“It’s okay,” You reached out to hold one of his servos in both of your hands, squeezing reassuringly. “I can feel the sentiment. Just focus on getting better, okay? We have all the time in the world.”

“Sometimes I fear we don’t- Have all the time, I mean, and I suppose that’s why I finally broke down and did this- I like to believe I’m impervious to everything around me, but I’ve already died once, and every time I get sick, I always think about what will happen if I go offline without telling everyone around me just how much they mean. I didn’t want to be scared anymore, not when it came to you.”

“I...” You stood and got on top of the berth so you could sit next to Optimus, curling into his side. “Me, too.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?” The Prime asked and wrapped an arm around you. Gentle. Strong. Warm.

“Would you like me to be?” You asked in return with a tilt of your head.

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll be here,” Optimus looked at you, clearly somewhat doubtful, but you only shook your head with a smile. “I promise, I won’t leave you. Just get some rest, okay?”

“...Okay.”

So, you stayed, and when Ratchet walked in the next morning to see you curled up by Optimus’s side on the berth with your (lip/chap)stick smeared on his servos, both of you sleeping peacefully for once, he couldn’t help but think that Optimus getting sick once in a while wasn’t so bad after all.

#tfa #transformers animated #transformers #optimus prime #tfa optimus prime #optimus prime x reader #tfa optimus prime x reader #tfa ratchet #ratchet #fanfiction #request #requests

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hizashiiis · 4 years ago

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Bakusquad + “Why are you awake” Part Two

PART ONE HERE

So here’s part two! Fun fact, the song Jirou plays you in her part is actually a song I wrote! I didn’t include any of the lyrics though because its lowkey really cheesy :/

I hope you like this! This one is for Sero, Mina, and Jirou.

Warnings: insomnia, depression kinda

Sero Hanta

- Sero is very much a hypocrite when it comes to getting enough sleep

- He’s constantly up at all hours, even sending you random texts if he can’t sleep

- But when you aren’t going to bed at a normal time?

- He’s so sad

- He looks like you kicked his puppy and then him in rapid succession.

- It’s crazy because he seems to just instinctively know when you’re awake

- Like he bolts up in his bed all, “they ain’t in bed. I’m abt to beat some ass.”

- He’s never sure if he’s right though, so he texts you a meme he made specifically for you being up too late

- It’s probably really cheesy and outdated, but the effort is there

- If you respond to it (because you will) he knocks on the wall between your dorms and talks to you

- Often, you both just stay up like that

Sero’s body is awake before his mind, moving him to sit up in bed before he can think. He was having a really intense dream; something about talking mice. He didn’t mind it, but he woke up as if he’d had a nightmare.

Faintly, from the wall beside him, he can hear low music playing, but he can’t make out what song it is. It’s coming from your room, though, so he’s concerned.

The sky outside is dark, clouds drifting across his windowed view of the moon. It must be pretty late; all the noise is gone, leaving nothing but static air, and the music. He leans over his bed to look at the time on his phone. It’s around 2 am. The song you’re playing ends, and he recognizes the next one. It’s on your sad playlist.

He sends you the meme, as well as an invitation for a hug as soon as it’s morning. You respond almost instantly, assuring him that you’re fine, you just couldn’t sleep. But he knows you better than that.

Knocking on the wall between you, he hears the music stop suddenly. He calls out to your wall.

“Mi amor? What’s keeping you awake?” He’s met with silence for a moment before your shaky voice responds.

“I’m okay. I just kinda got hit with some sad, y’know?” He does know. He knows that this happens sometimes. It happens to him, too. But he hates hearing your voice sound so lost. You almost sound hopeless, and he can’t bear it.

“I understand.” He places his hand up to the wall, wishing he could hold you. Unfortunately, you had both been told off by Iida for sleeping in each other’s rooms more than enough times lately, so he couldn’t just go see you. He opts instead for hugging a stuffed giraffe you had gotten him after the Sports Festival.

“Do you want me to distract you, or do you want to talk about it?” He asks, stroking the giraffe’s head as if it’s your hair, not knowing that on the other side of the wall, you’re holding a stuffed lion the same way.

“Distract me?” Your voice comes out only just loud enough for him to hear you, but he understands. He begins to tell you a story. He’s told it before. It’s about a great hero, one who fights crime valiantly, and his partner, also a fantastic hero. He ad-libs parts of it, making pretend villains say silly slogans, and recounting how the heroes save the day.

As he reaches the end, he hears you giggle a bit. “Oh? Did it work? Are you smiling over there, my sweet?” He calls to you, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“A little bit.” You respond, playing with your stuffed animal. “If you keep talking, maybe I’ll even smile more.”

He laughs, eyes bleary with sleep, but happy to talk to you the whole night.

Mina Ashido

- Honestly, she’s no better than you about staying awake

- She tries to sleep, but her thoughts are always racing

- Sometimes it’s thoughts of you, sometimes of new things she wants to try in training, or things she wants to see if she can convince her friends to do

- But she wants you to get adequate rest, even if it’s hard for her to do the same

- She used to get told off for sneaking to your room every night, but then Momo and Iida saw how much better you were performing in school on the days after she’d been there, and they started letting it slide

- It’s nicer for her, too, because she has someone to ramble to as the two of you fall asleep

Mina skipped down the hallway toward your room. It was a bit past midnight, and usually, you would be asleep by this time. It was well past lights out, and classes had run long that day, not to mention the endless exams that were happening at UA right now. So when she reached your door, she was surprised to find you watching a movie on your phone instead of snoring.

“Hey bug! Why are you still up, don’t you know what time it is?” She says, throwing a grin your way as she puts her blanket down next to you.

You shrug, yawning. “I could ask you the same thing, love.” She pouts at that, tossing her arm around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your temple.

She watches you watching your show for a few minutes before saying anything. It looks good, she supposes, but she has a better idea of what to watch. “Scoot over.” She pushes you lightly, giggling as you scrunch to the side to give her more room. “Do you wanna watch something with me?” She asks, holding up her phone.

You look at her for a moment. “That is what we are currently doing, is it not?” You hold up your phone in return, showing her the paused screen.

“But I have a better movie!” She insists, unlocking her screen and shoving it above yours so that you can see her pick. She’s right, it is a better movie. You guys have watched the entire Studio Ghibli filmography, but even you know that her favorite, “When Marnie was There,” is the better option at this particular moment.

You toss your phone to the side, pulling her in to lay next to you. “Fair enough, bubs, I guess yours is better.” You feign reluctance, watching her excitedly press play and tuck the blanket in around the both of you. Her arm curls tighter around your shoulders, and she giggles as the opening credits start.

“Hey Minari?” You use her favorite nickname, looking at her through hooded, sleepy eyes. She hums in response. “Why is this one your favorite?”

Hearing the question, she pauses the movie, turning to look right at you. She’s quiet for a moment, thinking about her answer. “I guess because they remind me of us! Like I’m Marnie, and you’re Anna, and we’re having this great adventure together!” You feel your face heat at her words, thinking about the movie more critically now. Mina continues, “It’s like…” she pauses, finding the right words. “Like Anna is learning how her friendship with Marnie can make her feel more right, as a person. And I feel like that about you!”

You’re tearing up now, unsure how to respond. Mina is so many things, and being with you is that important to her? It’s a new feeling, but certainly a welcome one. You pull her down, giving her a kiss. And then another kiss. And one on her nose.

“Press play, Mina.”

Kyoka Jirou

- Lol u think she sleeps?

- She does, but not at night

- Were it not for classes, Jirou would be essentially nocturnal

- So you try to remind her to go to sleep

- Sometimes you’ll walk past her dorm at night, and you hear her guitar, softly playing her favorite songs

- Before you got together, sometimes you would sit outside her door and listen to her play

- Not in a creepy way, there’s just a little common area right outside her room and you like took a book there, you weren’t like ooh it’s late i think i’ll sit outside someone’s room and listen to them

- You aren’t Mineta.

- But anyway

- Now that you are together, Jirou thinks it’s really sweet that you listen to her play

- Sometimes she leaves her door cracked open so you can come in

It’s 4 o’clock in the morning, and the light is on in Jirou’s room. You had come out to go to the bathroom, but you noticed her guitar, and decided to stay. The soft strumming is pretty, and you’re glad to be one of the few people allowed to hear it.

Opening Jirou’s door just a bit more, you nod toward her desk chair in a silent question. She nods, so you go sit down.

She’s playing a song you don’t recognize, and the lyrics are sad. Even still, it’s beautiful, and your eyes seem to naturally close, taking in the melody of her voice. She used to tell you her voice wasn’t anything special, but she seems content now to let you listen.

The guitar resonates with the last few chords, and the ending note is held for three beats. When she’s finished, Jirou opens her eyes and looks at you, waiting for your thoughts.

“It was beautiful. Did you write that?” You ask her, your hands fidgeting with the urge to hold her own. She nods, but doesn’t say anything.

You don’t acknowledge the sad theme of the song. She’s told you before that sometimes sad songs are easier than happy ones. That the melody is clearer. You don’t mind. All her songs are beautiful, and they reflect her in them, and isn’t that what makes a piece of art?

“I have another one, if you’d like to hear it?” She looks nervous; something you never see on her.

“I’d love to!” Your exclamation seems to snap her out of the anxiety in her eyes, which narrow a little.

“Just…” She starts, looking away from you to adjust the capo on her instrument. “Don’t freak out, okay?”

Confused, you nod, and she starts playing.

The song starts out with a few chords repeating in a loop, and then she begins to sing. The lyrics are confusing to you at first, and you still aren’t sure why she’s told you not to freak out. But then she gets to the chorus, and it begins to make more sense.

Lyrics, in essence, are a poem, and this one is a love poem. Her thoughts, written out, are so sweet and loving, that you’re sure you don’t know what to think. She sings elegantly, like someone who’s never known how to dance, and yet is waltzing perfectly across a shining floor.

She finishes the song with a declaration of loyalty, and you realize your eyes are watering. She looks at you, waiting for your thoughts.

You say nothing. You don’t know how to say anything, so you stand, cross to her, and pull her into a hug. She’s not usually one for physical touch, but she holds you tightly.

“It’s about me, right?” You laugh, leaving a kiss on her calloused fingers. She rolls her eyes.

“Obviously.”

She smiles at you, pulling you to lay on her bed as she puts her guitar in its case, taking the capo off the strings. “You should sleep. It’s like, morning now.”

“You should too.” You retort, still holding her hand.

“No.”

#mha fluff #mha x reader #mha imagines #sero x reader #sero hanta #sero hanta x reader #mina ashido #mina x reader #mina ashido x reader #jirou x reader #kyoka jirou x reader #mina ashido fluff #sero fluff #jirou fluff

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liitlesunshiine · 3 years ago

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High on the clock

Quirkless AU - Toya Todoroki

Warnings: cursing, drug use, anxiety, panic attack mention, suggestive themes, slight sexual themes

A fun light hearted fic. Definitely enjoyed writing this piece so I hope you guys enjoy reading it. ^.^ It’s flirty n cute n Toya is a total bae. <3

You and Toya are coworkers who try making the most out of your shitty job.

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

“Goddd this place fuckin blows.” You groaned in frustration sitting across Toya.

“As if I didn’t know that already,” he sleeplishly replied.

You never intended on working in this shit show of a store for as long as you have but yet, here you were two wasted years later. You had high hopes after graduation but it seems no job wants to hire someone with no experience and you can’t get any experience since you can’t get an actual job that’ll provide it. So it’s forced you in this sort of awkward limbo and vicious cycle of going back and forth. You’ve been stuck wearing this shitty bright uniform with a barely livable wage and terrible hours. Miserable every second of the day, with the constant guilt eating at you for being so complacent.

Of course there were a few exceptions.

Of course… Like the highly attractive coworker you spent most of your time here with. Days spent with Toya were significantly better than the days spent without Toya. In fact, if it weren’t for him, you’d probably wouldn’t have lasted as long as you had here. Because man, when days were good they were ok, but when the days were bad, they were really fucking bad. Some in which you were ready to burn down everyone and everything yet the sweet, hot, god-like Toya would make you melt with his cute quirky smile and meet your eyes with his own that you would absolutely drown in and next thing you know, you had completely forgotten about what you were upset over. Now, it’s just a bonus that he meets your sarcasm with his own, the both of you have always had this flirty like atmosphere that neither of you are willing to acknowledge but low key kinda know there’s an underlying sexual tension there. It was strange how well you both got along, the average onlooker would assume nothing more than a simple boyfriend and girlfriend relationship but it was really just mutual likability and connection between the two of you. Days with Toya were simply good days. And you were absolutely grateful for someone like him because god knows how terrible it’d really be here without him.

“Why don’t we make this night a bit memorable,” Toya who was right next to you behind the counter, gives you a side wink and unzips the company jacket to reveal a small ziplock within the pocket. Andddddd long behold it’s weed! You chuckle to yourself, never getting tired of Toya’s shenanigans. Very much appreciated as he’s best form of entertainment here.

“Toya we almost got caught last time, you really wanna risk it again?” Your words ran on deaf ears as he was already rolling up the blunt underneath the counter, “what’s the worst they can do? Fire us?” You stopped for a second and nodded, well he wasn’t wrong. Maybe this was the push you needed to finally leave this shit hole. “You got a point, let’s do it quick before someone comes in.”

While this is a 24 hour convenience store, usually pass 1am, rarely anyone is inside. So you suppose it wouldn’t be too bad of an idea. Plus with Toya your bound to have a good time, who are you to deny him. You trusted in him enough to get away with his bs.

“Pass the lighter doll,” you fished for the lighter that was nicely decorated with little blue flames over in your small book bag and passed it to him. He holds the blunt between his two hands and you duck underneath the counter with him. “Ladies first,” he cockily said, you lean forward and placed your mouth on the blunt while he held it for you. He always did this and it always felt oddly intimate to you. Couldn’t help the warm fuzzy feeling in your chest taking over when his glass like eyes gazed over you. They always made you curious and somehow hungry for knowledge of his life. You’ve never knew someone so well yet know nothing of them, but that’s always been enigma of Touya. You exhaled closing your eyes, attempting to calm your nerves. “You know the only time I ever smoke is on the job with you.” He smirked bringing the blunt to his own lips, “guess I’m a bad influence then.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes. “Everyone needs a lil spice in their life, no?” It was his turn to roll his eyes. You gently grabbed his wrist and led the blunt back to your lips again, he stared quietly at you. Which oddly made you tense up. “Don’t look at me like that,” you smiled.

“Like what?” He smiled.

“Like I’m the most beautiful girl in the world that you can’t live without.” Now you both laughed. This was the usual routine with Toya; cracking jokes and talking shit for a bit and simply enjoying each other’s company while the store was empty. He finally broke the trance you were in when he spoke up.

“You know, having my father kick me out of the house wasn’t so bad after all,” Toya leaned in.

You looked at him with a puzzled look, he never brings up his father. Whenever the conversation appeared it was quickly diverted elsewhere. You didn’t want to poke or intrude but curiosity got the best of you and you couldn’t help but want to continue the conversation. “Yea? Why is that?” You wondered. His father, from what you’ve been able to gather with the little bits Toya has mentioned here and there, was that supposedly his father is some CEO to a multi million dollar company. Odd considering the likes to where Toya ended up but you concluded that they must’ve ended in bad terms. You understood how cruel and selfish parents can be and didn’t need further explanation on that part. Easy to assume considering how poorly and little he speaks of him. He shut your ideas off with his simple response.

“I wouldn’t be smoking a blunt with the world’s most beautiful girl under this shitty counter, if it weren’t for it.” Ha, that definitely caught you off guard, causing a light blush to form across your face. Even with a seeming sensitive topic he still manages to tease you. He’s got that cheeky smile plastered all over, “Got you choked up doll?” You rolled your eyes. You were about to tell him off before the door rang indicating that someone has entered the store. You snapped out of the haze and immediately got up to quickly realize that the person who entered was one of the regional managers, oh fuck. You nearly froze in fear and kicked Toya under the counter. “Ow the fuck was that for?” He looked at you while soothing the kick you just gave him but upon looking at your panicked expression and frenzied body, he quickly crushed the blunt and shoved it back inside the pocket of his jacket. He didn’t need to be told or explained which you greatly appreciated at the moment. Toya was always able to read the room, bless his soul. He clumsily got back up to which you had fixed his crooked hat and whispered into his ear to tuck his shirt in while covering him slightly to do so.

“Hi-ya hello, good afternoon, I mean good evening sir.” You embarrassedly stumbled over your words to which Toya snickered at. You kicked him again harder this time as discreetly as you could. On the verge of a panic attack. He gripped tightly at the counter, smiling at the man in front of you both. Hissing silently at the pain your kick caused him. He gave you a quick side eye nodding his head in disapproval. Which somehow made you feel drastically worse.

“Good evening to you both, I’m sure you know who I am.”

You responded a bit too hastily looking like a rabid chihuahua. “Yes! Yea. Of course we do, how are you? What brings you in at this time? It’s so late.” You manage to say within 2.0 seconds, the automatic robotic customer service attitude overtaking your body. Well- at least trying to considering you just had a 30-minute smoke sesh under the counter and your mind is desperately trying to sober up. Honestly, what the fuck was he doing here at this time? This has never happened and I mean out of all the hours of the day. Oh yea, you’re definitely getting fucked, the smell of weed was so pungent, it was literally embarrassing how bad the situation looks. You wanted to cry. Toya’s eyes were stained red and you only assumed yours look worse.

“Gotten a few complaints about this store recently. Wanted to come in and take a look.” You began to get a cold sweat, oh shit he knows, he definitely knows. You had words lodged in your throat that couldn’t come out. What could you say? What can you say? You’re in the wrong here. Everyone knows that smoking weed with your cool and kinda hot coworker under the counter is definitely not ok. Maybe even illegal, oh god what if this gets on your record. You’ll definitely not be able to get a professional job, then you’ll really get stuck working a even shitter job than this. Oh good oh god oh my god.

As if sensing the absolute panic and anxiety off of you, Toya gently caressed your arm motioning you to relax and to stay silent. You recognized the wave that washed over him and instantly knew he’d handle the situation, he always does. And if you could die in his arms right now, you’d accept your fate happily. Toya was an interesting man oh right, you always believed he held such potential to do great things and even change the world. It doesn’t make sense really considering you both work at a basic job but you had come to secretly admire the guy. You’d would tell him too, how you believed in him, how you had so much confidence for him to become something great but he would always shut it down and brush it off like it was nothing. It was as if he didn’t think he was good enough. It always bugged you that he thought so little of himself, but seeing him now causally and confidently bullshit the regional manager out of your current situation just simply reminded you of how special he was to you. Definitely got your pussy wet and made you eternally grateful too.

Toya was standing in front of the counter, making hand gestures while the manager just stared analyzing his words. You were completely z0ned out, only able to get parts of the conversation.

“We’ve been having this customer appear at the store over and over again around this time of night harassing me and Y/N. We’ve considered calling the cops since he’s always high off his mind, we’ve caught him smoking in the bathroom on multiple occasions too. He was in here about 15 minutes ago and we haven’t been able to get rid of the smell.”

Ah the beautiful lies that slipped through Toya’s lips sounded like a symphony. It was nothing short of comedic and yet so fucking Oscar-worthy. You could definitely pay this man to tell you lies he with how effortlessly convincing he was. You couldn’t even care to listen to what the manager was responding with, but on his way out he waved at you wishing you a goodnight and you sighed out with relief.

Toya turns to you clasping his hands together “well there’s gonna be a security guard here for the next two weeks.” You laughed “I guess that’s better than getting fired huh.”

“I’m not sure about that,” he chuckled. “I texted Shigs to come and take over the rest of our shift.”

You looked at him confused, “how come? Either way, do you think he’ll be ok alone here?”

Toya slipped his phone into his pocket and walked back to you “yea he doesn’t give a fuck. Besides you look pale fucking white, guess this guy sobered your ass up real quick.”

You attempted to glare angrily at him but it came off as a soft puppy look. You had no energy nor the strength to pretend. It feels like you just got whiplash from the rollercoaster you were on. Figured it was no use in lying considering you looked like you just went through it. “Yea, I still feel high as shit, I just wanna go home already, only thing this guy gave me was a fat fucking headache.”

He ruffled the top of your head, “awe poor baby,” he said in a teasing tone, he inched up right beside you, “I got something that can help with that.” You jokingly pushed him off you, tying to ignore the warm feeling pooling under your stomach. Your mind was definitely thinking something dirty with a million miles per second and with how he handled today’s situation you’d be more than willing to give him whatever he pleased, but you pretended to cast aside those intrusive thoughts and act unfazed. “Shit don’t tell me you got Advil on you too?”

He chuckled lightly nodding is head down, “got something even better doll.” He scoots up next to you and grabs a bottle of excedrin underneath the counter, passing it to you. You excitedly open it taking two pills out “oh my god I didn’t know we had some underneath here, yes thank you. You're definitely my hero today Toya.” As if y’all didn’t work in a convenience store that had if not all types of medicines. It was the effort that made it special though, it’s what brought that bright goofy smile of yours to light.

You weren’t able to see the blush that formed on his cheeks while you swallowed the two pills. “Yea I remember you telling me you get headaches n shit and I know this medicine helps with it.” He was scratching the back of his head awkwardly. He never really handles compliments well but you tippy toed over to him and wrapped your arms softly around his neck. “I appreciate it Toya, that was really thoughtful. Thank you.”

If you didn’t see his previous blush you definitely noticed this one, which in turn lead you to blush. But you couldn’t miss this opportunity- “AWE is lil Toya blushing. So cute brings me back to my middle school days.” That caused a loud laugh to come out of you both. “Shut it.” he quickly and quietly said.

“Am I interrupting something.” You and Toya quickly untangled from each other trying to play off the slight tension in the air.

“Errrr um.. Hey Shiggy, thanks for uh coming in.” You awkwardly stumbled, you never really got along with him so there was always this weird loud silence between the both of you. He already seemed to be annoyed, per usual. The sloppy blue hair all tangled looking greasy and his patchy skin looking irritated and flaky as usual. He definitely was not amused or happy to be here. Well when was her ever. You’ve yet to seen the man smile.

“Whatever.” He takes a sip from his metal bottle and walks over to the counter.

“Shiggy you the man, thanks for pulling up bud.” Toya pats him in the back and Shigaraki shuttered. “Don’t touch me,” he flatly said. He glared at you both.

“You guys can go leave and fuck now.” The words caught you instantly by surprise and you got completely red. “That’s not what were gonn- ugh whatever like it matters.” With that, you and Toya clock out and leave the store with Shigaraki sending daggers at your back.

“He’s always acting like such a bitch.” You annoyingly complained.

Toya puts his arm around your shoulder pulling you closer to him “he ain’t so bad when you get to know him.”

“I guess.” You rolled your eyes, you didn’t really care. You were more relieved to have finally left. He can rot in the store by himself for all you care. Not you or Toga would miss him.

“So,” Toya glided with his words, itching you closer to him. He was leading the way in this position with you happily following. Not knowing the destination but feeling completely at peace with his form completely snug at your side. You comfortably wrapped your arm around his waist and gently placed your head in the crook of his neck. This was nice you thought, you and Toya were always this intimate when alone. No hesitation or awkwardness, just simply holding hands and sharing body heat as friends with the underlying passion waiting to burst and to be acknowledged. But nothing ever felt rushed, not with Toya. You stared at him from this angle, taking in his beautiful effortless features. His lashes looked so long as you stared in slight jealousy, his hair a perfect black mess with hidden red roots if you stared long enough, and his eyes. Man, you could write poems and sing songs with how the eyes stirred up some emotion you can't quite pin down. Always causing an eruption of feelings you can barely control.

You felt the warmth from his breath when he spoke, “wanna go to back to my place and finish that blunt? Would love nothing more than to see the world’s most beautiful girl on my bed.”

You blushed and nodded looking at those piercing blue eyes once again “well, when you look at me like that I guess I can’t say no.”

Maybe this time you would finally show Toya just how special he really is to you.

#Touya x You #toya #toya todoroki #todoroki x reader #bnha dabi #dabi smut #dabi imagine #dabi x reader #dabi #dabi my hero academia #my hero fanfic #my hero academia #dabi fluff #dabi fic #toya smut #kinktober #mha todoroki

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 4 years ago

Text

Stalker X Stalker, Part 5

First

Perma tag: @nathleigh

Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades @jayjayspixiepop @blueslushgueen @fan-written @seraphichana @nerd-nowandforever

Marinette listened in on Tim for three days.

Not actively, of course, she didn’t hang onto every word he said. She just let her consciousness drift in and out of the conversations he had while she worked on finishing up the outfit she had designed for Audrey...

And, yeah, she was getting to the point where she was willing to bet on him being an okay guy. Better than okay, even. He was just so… genuine?

The first two days he had come in sick. She knew the signs of working while sick by heart, the trudging around and the groaning and the constant banging your head on the desk when you pass out randomly, and damn she was pretty sure even she wasn’t as bad as him. He probably shouldn’t be working at all, to be honest, he was CEO and there was nothing stopping him from taking the day -- or even just a few hours -- off. But, no, from the sound of it he was drinking ungodly amounts of coffee and calling it okay.

And despite the fact that he seemed absolutely miserable, he hadn’t taken it out on anyone. She had yet to hear him be impolite to anyone, not even the people that worked under him. His secretary had made a scheduling mistake and he had not only assured her it was fine but didn’t even require her to fix it.

Even when he was talking to himself while working he never once said anything questionable. And he talked to himself a lot. It was like a podcast, honestly, just hearing him rattle off numbers and weird business terms she hadn’t learned because she was self-taught. He talked almost constantly and he should have slipped up by now, yet here she was three days later with nothing to show for it except for a whole lot of guilt.

Marinette hadn’t thought much about it on the first day, everyone had their good days from time to time. On the second day she said ‘oh, it’s a coincidence’, but on the third day she had to call it: her paranoia had been a little unfounded.

Literally the worst thing about him so far was that he didn’t seem to care much about his own health… and that wasn’t really a bad thing about him as much as it was a bad thing for him.

So, yeah, it looked like she had no real reason to listen in on him anymore.

… but…

Something about him was nagging at her. He was a nice guy and she’d like to be his friend… it was just that, sometimes, she could swear she recognized his voice.

And it wasn’t like there were a lot of people she knew in America, she knew who he probably was.

Her hand itched towards the tiny device hidden under her window seat. One click (and maybe a little researching) and she’d know for sure who the bats were. The only thing stopping her was the knowledge that, if she did know their real names, she’d accidentally call them by them once and immediately get thrown either into a cell or out of Gotham. She was a meta (kind of), she was already on thin ice. She didn’t need the paranoid idiots that were the bats being more wary of her than they already were.

So, she left it alone.

She kept the bug, though. Mostly just because she wanted to hear it directly from him rather than just guessing by his voice. After all, voices can be similar. If he were to directly talk about bat business while she was listening in, though… that would definitely be a point towards her theory, to say the least.

And, yeah, she knew it was kind of messed up. She could be listening in on some innocent guy for all she knew, but it was… morally kind of okay? The whole thing about stalking is that it makes your victim feel unsafe. If he was Red Robin then he had found the bug and hadn’t felt unsafe enough to remove it and if he was a civilian then he would never know about the bug and therefore couldn’t feel unsafe. Therefore, it wasn’t stalking, not really.

… yeah, that makes sense.

She glanced at her sketchbook and yawned. She really needed to get a new outfit idea soon. Good thing Tim said he was taking her out tomorrow --.

Shit, Tim was taking her out tomorrow.

She jumped up from her spot at the window and ran to her closet. What to wear, what to wear...

Frenchie: where are we going tomorrow

Spiderman: It’s a surprise.

Frenchie: fuck your surprises tim what do i need to wear

She heard his laugh crackle through her earpiece. Rude.

Spiderman: Casual clothes.

Frenchie: there are LEVELS of casual tim

Spiderman: Oh, so we’re breaking out the capital letters. This must be serious.

She scoffed. Of course it was serious.

Frenchie: just tell me what to wear

Spiderman: A t-shirt and jeans is fine.

Kwamis, send her strength. Like she was going to wear a t-shirt and jeans. Did he even know who he was talking to?

But at least she had a gauge on how casual she could go. She picked out a light pink button down and black shorts for herself and then, because she had a little bit of foresight, she added some black tights.

She smiled faintly and dropped back in her bed.

She couldn’t wait to see where he was going to take her.

She found out the next day. Because that’s how things work.

She raised her eyebrows. “There’s no way it’s actually called a ‘space museum’. You’ve gotta be lying.”

Tim shrugged, a grin poking at his lips. “Do you really think I’d make it up?”

“Well, considering your outfit, I’d say you aren’t the most creative of guys so maybe you did,” she teased.

Tim looked down at his outfit and pouted. He was wearing little more than a black turtleneck and pants under a white jacket. “Must you make fun of every outfit I wear?”

“Only the bad ones. Seriously, would it kill you to wear a little bit of color?”

He rolled his eyes. “At least I thought to bring a jacket. It’s thirty degrees!”

She had forgotten that Americans used Fahrenheit, sue her.

Of course, she was never going to admit to this. She stuck her tongue out at him. “Maybe I’m just not a wimp.”

He snickered. “Oh, so you’re not cold?”

“Not at all.”

“Then stop hugging that coffee cup.”

She looked down at the coffee cup that was her only source of warmth and happiness in this cruel world that had two different measuring systems (three if you counted Kelvin). She gripped it tighter. “... no.”

He rolled his eyes again and, after a beat of hesitation, shrugged his jacket off and offered it to her.

Marinette normally wouldn’t give in this easy… but she really was cold and his clothes were far thicker than hers were and she knew that her teeth would start chattering soon which would have been so embarrassing...

So she blushed faintly and slipped the jacket on. It smelled like ungodly expensive cologne. “Thanks.”

He grinned. “I’m taking your coffee as payment.”

“No --!”

After dropping by a cafe so Marinette didn’t kill him, Tim took her to the space museum (yes, that actually was what it was called).

He thought she would have missed the night sky. Gotham hardly ever had a clear night due to the thick smog that hung over the city like a curse. And they spent quite a lot of time outside at night, she must have been feeling a little homesick.

So, he rented out the museum for the day. Yes, the whole museum. He was rich and mildly famous and what was the point of that if he wasn’t going to use it to make the people he cared about happy? He doubted she would be able to enjoy the sights as much if people were constantly taking pictures of them and asking about their relationship.

She raised her eyebrows just slightly but otherwise didn’t acknowledge the lack of people.

They slipped through the rooms quietly in search of inspiration.

Many of the rooms were your typical museum things: exhibits showing off different space rocks and explaining stars and supernovas. They didn’t stop much here, obviously, there was little to be inspired by. The most that happened for a long while was Marinette stopping from time to time to take a picture of a nice color that she wanted to try and replicate later.

And then she had stopped to look at a spacesuit. She blinked a few times before breaking into a grin and flipping to a new page in her sketchbook. He could barely make out the name ‘Jagged’ from where he was fiddling with his camera a respectable distance away.

So, Marinette, at least, was having a productive time. Tim was… a little stressed, to be honest.

Tim was having a particularly hard time getting ‘inspired’.

It had been years since he had picked up his camera, which was certainly a problem but it wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that he had never been one to take pictures of locations or objects. Sure, there was the occasional picture of the Gotham skyline, but he had always had a tendency towards taking pictures of people. Batman and Robin working as a team to take out a bunch of thugs, Robin and Nightwing racing each other across the rooftops, Batman and Nightwing stopping for ice cream after a particularly long patrol… and now he wanted to take pictures of Marinette.

But that would be weird because a) the first day he had implied he took pictures of attractions in order to alleviate suspicion about why he just so happened to be on the same rooftop as her and b) she probably wouldn’t think they were close enough for him to take pictures of her.

He kind of wished he could just go back to the old days where his subjects didn’t know he was there and he wouldn’t have to worry about what they would think about him if he took a picture of them.

His fingers itched towards the camera hanging from his neck because she looked so cute with her tongue poking out of her mouth and her orange, yellow, and white colored pencils sticking out from between her fingers like little Wolverine claws and he loved the way his jacket looked on her and --.

“You can stop staring, I’ll be done as fast as I can.”

His brain shorted out and the only response he could come up with was a squeaky: “Sorry?”

She looked up from her work with an awkward smile. “I’m sorry it’s taking so long, I just… if I don’t do it now it’ll slip my mind. I’m working as fast as I can, though.”

He was rebooting. Give him a minute.

Ah, there it was.

Wait, she thought he was being impatient?

“Nononono take your time, it’s fine! I just...”

He trailed off before he could finish the thought because this was the second time they had hung out he couldn’t make things awkward between them already.

… but she was giving him a confused, vaguely concerned, look and he was pretty sure that if he didn’t come up with something soon it would be awkward anyways.

“IwasjustwonderingifIcouldtakeapictureofyou?” He blurted out before he could stop himself again.

She blinked once. Twice. And then a blush spread across her face.

“Oh. Uh… sure?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he said.

“It’s fine. A little sudden but… fine,” she said with a tiny smile.

Tim couldn’t keep the smile off of his face.

Not one to be blushy for long, apparently, Marinette flashed a wink. “Should I call up my friend Adrien for modeling tips or…?”

He rolled his eyes and schooled his face back into his usual grin. “It’s fine, just keep working. I’ll figure out angles and stuff.”

She tipped her head to the side confusedly. “Don’t you need me to be still?”

He didn’t look up from messing with the settings of his camera. “Not at all. You’re probably going to be one of my easier pictures.”

“... thanks…?”

“I do mostly nighttime photography. Capturing things in motion without it blurring requires a --.” He cringed. “Sorry, um… basically, when you want to take photos of things that are moving fast, you need a lot of natural light.”

“... you can talk about it more in depth, if you want.”

He shrugged. “I’d bore you.”

“I like your voice,” she said… then she seemed to realize the implications because she cleared her throat and did her best to backtrack: “In comparison to every other American I’ve heard so far, at least. Why do your accents… sound like that?”

“Ah, yes, because everyone knows that French people have the best accents.”

“Excuse you, I have been told by many people that my accent is actually very nice.”

He grinned. “By whom? Half-drunk men on the street?”

She gasped as if offended. “I get my information from much more reliable sources... like drunk women in bathrooms, thank you very much.”

“I see. My mistake. I apologize.”

“As you should.”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Don’t you have a design to make?” She looked down at her sketchbook and a silence stretched between them as she squinted at her design.

“You forgot what you were doing, didn’t you?”

She groaned and rested her head in her hands.

He took a picture of her exasperated pout.

Marinette ended up with two outfits.

One was for Jagged, based off of the spacesuit she had seen. She had figured that, with all the songs he wrote about being free, there was bound to be one about how he ‘finally had his own space’. It was good to be prepared.

The other was for Cassandra Wayne. Marinette hadn’t thought much about it, to be honest. She just knew that Cassandra liked the color black with designs on top of it, and that the planetarium had a nice star pattern that would work for that. It would be super expensive, what with all the gems she would need, but it wasn’t like the Waynes couldn’t afford it.

… and then she looked up to see Tim pouting.

She giggled, resting her head on her hand. “What?”

“My sister is getting a dress and I’m not.”

Oh, so he was an actual fan. Interesting.

She brushed that conversation aside in favor of teasing him: “You want a dress?”

“Yes! No? Yes? I --.” He huffed and took a seat in the chair next to her. “I have faith anything you make will look nice.”

She felt a blush rise to her face and she rolled her eyes. “Hm. Telling the person in charge of your wardrobe ‘I have full faith in you’ is a terrible idea.”

“Oh? I don’t think you, in good conscience, can make and give me anything bad.”

She squinted at him for a minute before breaking into a grin. “Wanna bet?”

He leaned back in his chair, scrutinizing her for a few moments, before smirking. “Sure, how about we put five thousand on it?”

She choked. She’d forgotten he was rich rich.

She was quick to backtrack: “Nah. With all your fashion choices so far I can’t trust you not to wear it to some Gala or whatever it is you rich people do.”

“Damn, there goes that plan.”

She grinned and looked down at her sketchbook. After a few seconds she flipped to a new page. She squinted at his outfit for a few moments before starting to doodle something.

“What’re you making now?”

“I’m making you something with some color.”

He huffed. “Excuse you, I’m a goth in a family of goths. I can’t wear color.”

“Yeah, yeah. Trust me, I know. I’d say Richard is the black sheep of the family in that aspect but he’s the one wearing color.”

He laughed a little. “So Dick is the white sheep, then?”

“Yea --.” She stopped and then squinted over at him. “Dick?”

“It’s what he insists everyone calls him.”

She looked down at her sketchbook for a moment, processing, and then shook her head. “Your brother has a degradation kink.”

Tim brought his hand to his mouth in stunned silence before pulling his phone from his pocket and definitely not informing the family group chat of his discovery.

She snickered and went to work on the outfit again. It was a simple one, because she didn’t want to go too far out of his comfort zone, but there was no way she was going to be friends with a monochromatic idiot.

She leaned over until her head rested on his shoulder. He tensed up just a little before resting his head on top of hers.

When she had finished he took a picture of the planetarium to keep up pretenses and they had made their leave.

… but first, they stopped by the gift shop. Because why not?

Tim could have bought everything there for Marinette -- and probably would have, if asked -- but, considering she had freaked out about five thousand dollars earlier, he figured maybe he should keep that more or less quiet.

Instead, he followed her around while idly bouncing a Saturn shaped bouncy ball. It was a terrible shape for a bouncy ball and he kind of loved it, to be honest. Not to mention the little smile Marinette made behind her hand every time the ball would try another mad dash for freedom was pretty cute.

And then they hit the t-shirt section. And her lips twitched as she reached out and picked up a bright blue shirt that said ‘May the F=MA be with you’ in white text.

“It’s awful. It’s perfect.”

He grinned. “Wow, look at you. You know one of the simplest physics formulas by heart, aren’t you smart?” He joked.

She bowed. “I know, I know.”

He held out a hand for it and she stared at him for a few seconds in confusion.

“I’ll hold it until we get to the front desk.”

She squinted at him. “I’m paying for my own shirt.”

“I can afford it,” he said with a sigh.

“So can I.”

“Either you let me pay for it or I’ll keep track of everything you buy while with me and add it to your commissions.”

“... either you let me pay for it or I’ll never make an outfit for you ever again. I know your measurements and style, Timothy, you won’t be able to get past me.”

They narrowed their eyes at each other, daring each other to call their bluffs…

And then his shoulders sagged. “Fine.”

He’d just have to use his connections to lower prices on fabrics for her. Did he mention that he was rich and mildly famous? Yeah. It was pretty cool.

She smiled as she leaned against the doorframe to her apartment. “Thanks for taking me out. It was fun.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled back. She was determinedly ignoring the way his smile made little butterflies flutter in her stomach. She patently hated butterflies. They weren’t allowed.

“I had fun, too. Want to do it again, sometime?”

“... sure, I guess you passed my test.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Your test?”

“Oh, yeah.” She waved him off. “If you had made any creepy comments today I would have blocked you.”

He seemed a little relieved by this information, though she wasn’t quite sure why. “That’s a pretty good test to have in Gotham.”

“I know, I’m pretty smart,” she said jokingly.

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

Damn it, now she was blushing. Shit.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you flatter every girl you take to the space museum? Is this your strategy?”

He snickered. “Well, considering you’re the only girl I’ve taken, I’m going to have to say yes.”

She hummed. “I’m glad I’m so special to you, because that means you won’t drop me when I never give you this jacket back.”

He huffed. “You can’t just do that.”

“I can and will,” she teased. Then, because she wasn’t a completely cruel person, she reached up to her coatrack and pulled down a red scarf for him. “Here, take this so it’s more of a trade than stealing.”

“If I don’t?”

“Then you get to walk back to your house in the cold like that.”

He snorted. “What happened to not wanting to steal?”

“At least I offered!”

He rolled his eyes and leaned down so she could wrap the scarf around his neck.

She looked up at him, a blush spreading across her face, and then carefully draped it over his shoulders. “There. Now you have a splash of color.”

He smiled at her. “Ah, I see, this was all just a plot to get me to wear colors. It all makes sense now.”

“Of course.” She tugged him down more by the scarf to press a kiss to his nose. “You should wear red and black more often. They’re totally your colors.”

He smiled a little dopily. “You have no idea.”

She pushed his face away. “Weirdo. Go be cryptic somewhere else.”

“Fine, fine. See you in a few days.”

“See you then.”

~~~

Bonus Batfam group chat stuff

Timtamalam: What if Dick makes everyone call him that because he has a degradation kink?

LetMeLeaveTheChat: i fucking hate this family.

BloodSon: This is exactly the kind of lowbrow humor to be expected of you, Drake.

Timtamalam: I’m unappreciated in my time.

CAss: :0

Timtamalam: See, this is why Cass is the favorite.

YouDontSeeMe: DickJoke please respond

DickJoke: I raised each and every one of you and this is the thanks I get

LetMeLeaveTheChat: sucks to suck, dickwad.

DickJoke: That’s it when I get through all this dumb Heartless stuff I’m coming back to the manor and we’re all going to have family time

CAss: :(

ItsEggplantNotPurple: damn it

YouDontSeeMe: crap

LetMeLeaveTheChat: fuck. and an extra “fuck” on duke’s behalf.

BloodSon: Look at what you have done, Drake.

Timtamalam: Sorry guys.

#stalker x stalker #maribat #timinette #timari #shutterbug #timmari #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #tim drake #red robin

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daddy-deathslinger · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! I hope you're doing good :) I was hoping to make a request for Caleb x fem!reader where they're friends, and Caleb would like more. So he's making flirtatious/suggestive comments but they just go over her head because even though her English is very good it's not her first language (plus different time periods and location), and Caleb is confused and amused at first, but then just frustrated. Thank you ♥️

Ahoy! This was such a sweet scenario, I had a good time writing it, thank you! Hope you're doing awesome! ❤️

"Why didn't you tell me?" - Caleb Quinn/The Deathslinger x Fem!Reader

"Are you feeling alright?"

Caleb scoffed at the question, placing his Redeemer on the bar and sitting down next to you.

"I just brutally murdered four teenagers, and you're asking me if I'm alright?"

He looked at you with a smile he didn't hope came off too cocky, but you just shrugged and gave him a slight smile.

"I know the Entity punishes you if you... perform badly. Just wanted to make sure..."

You returned your attention to the clothes you were currently mending by hand, inserting the needle into the fabric to carefully drag the thread through.

"Trust me", Caleb said, stretching out his leg to relieve some pain. "If I was bein' punished right now, you wouldn't be here."

He cast a glance over at you, but all you did was hum in acknowledgement at this remark. Caleb felt a small sting of frustration at this. For weeks, he'd had feelings for you. Deeper feelings than friendship. Him being an old gump who'd never really cared for anyone besides himself, before he'd met you in this wretched place, he had no idea how to show his feelings towards you. He'd tried being extra nice towards you, without making it too obvious at first, but as you hadn't seemed to notice his change in behavior at all, he'd upped his pace a bit. He'd started to give you little compliments when he saw fit, about your hair, your hands, even your laughter. But you still didn't seem to catch on. You always smiled that friendly smile and you showed that you enjoyed his company, but Caleb felt like you didn't understand that he wanted more. Or maybe you just didn't feel the same way for him. Of course, that thought had entered his mind many times. After all, why would you feel any certain way about someone like him?

"Don't you ever feel... weird, about me killing yer friends and all?"

You looked up at Caleb, meeting his questioning gaze with something that resembled sadness. Caleb started wondering if maybe he shouldn't have asked that, and cursed himself for his stupidity, but to his surprise you answered:

"Not all of them are my friends. Some have done terrible things in the past."

Caleb let out a surprised hum, waiting for you to continue, but your gaze quickly turned warm as you gave him a little smile.

"Better to have few friends, but good ones, than be surrounded by false ones. Right?"

Caleb gave you a curious look, then returned the smile.

"True that, Y/N."

Damn, that smile of yours made him melt on the spot. He felt so ridiculous falling head over heels for you, not even knowing if you felt the same. That's a fool-proof way to get your heart broken.

"There, patched up once again!" you suddenly declared, lifting up the shirt you had worked on and folding it on the bar counter in front of you.

Caleb gave you a thumbs up and was about to get up to make himself a drink, but as he caught you eyeing him, he decided to stay put.

"What's the matter, doe-eye?" he asked, instantly kicking himself mentally for the stupid nickname.

You just studied him, seemingly pondering over something, and if Caleb wasn't mistaken, he thought he could see your gaze trailing towards his... chest?

"Would you mind if- I mean..." you stuttered, eyes darting up to Caleb's face and then down to his chest area again.

Caleb felt a tingle in his stomach, feeling a grin spread on his face. He turned his body towards you on the chair, discreetly straightening his back and pushing out his chest a bit.

"What's on yer mind, doll?"

To his wicked triumph, he could see you starting to blush.

"Y-You're allowed to say not, but.... I was just wondering, since I've got some extra thread left, if maybe you'd let me... fix those ugly holes in your shirt once and for all?"

Caleb blinked a couple of times in confusion. He looked down on his chest, eyeing the small holes in his shirt.

"Oh", he said, feeling a bit stupid. "Well, I... It's really not that big of a deal to me, but..."

"Please?" you gave him a pleading smile that relit the tingles in his stomach. "It's a really beautiful shirt, I'd hate to see it ruined."

Now it was Caleb's turn to feel his face heat up a bit. Stupid old gump, he thought you had other things in mind, but now that he considered it, letting you mend his shirt wouldn't be too bad either. He chuckled at your pleading face, and removed his duster coat and tossed it on the floor. Seeing your face light up with happiness was already worth it.

"It won't take long, I promise!" you said, scooching your chair closer to his and gripping the needle and thread.

"That's alright", Caleb assured you, trying hard to force away his wide smile. "Ain't nothin' wrong with a bit of pampering now and then."

He watched as you threaded the needle and leaned in towards his chest, a concentrated look on your beautiful face. As your warm hands touched his chest, Caleb couldn't stop himself from gasping quietly.

"I-I'm sorry!" you exclaimed, a worried look on your face as your eyes darted up to meet his. "Did I-"

"You're fine!" Caleb chuckled, shaking his head and cursing himself for being so skittish.

"It's just, these holes have been bugging me for quite some time..."

You trailed off and got to work, your nimble fingers quickly gathering the shirt and starting to thread the needle through the fabric. Caleb hoped to the gods that you couldn't feel his trembling heart as your hands were placed steadily on his chest while you worked. If you could, you didn't show it, your face not changing from it's concentrated state during the whole process. Caleb tried to keep calm, not thinking about how great it felt to have you touch him. How much he longed for your hands to trail around his chest, hug him tightly as you looked up at his face and met his gaze...

"Ah!"

"Shit, fuck, I'm so sorry!"

You had accidentally poked his skin with your needle, and as Caleb had jumped in surprise, the needle had poked even deeper.

"I-I'm so sorry, Caleb, shit, I'm so nervous working on someone else, I-" you stuttered, visibly embarrassed, but Caleb grabbed your hands quickly and squeezed them before he had time to think about what he was doing.

"Hey, Y/N, it's alright", he smiled, meeting your gaze.

The tingle in his stomach was a full on fire by now, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss you. But he couldn't, he mustn't, so he released your hands and quickly looked away with an embarrassed scoff. He felt you hesitate for a couple of seconds, before you got back to work on his shirt.

"It's almost finished", you assured him, the tone of your voice hard to read.

And soon enough, too soon, Caleb felt you retract from his chest. He dared look back at you as you put away the needle and he glanced down to study your work.

"My, I haven't had a shirt lookin' this nice in ages!" he declared, feeling the shirt where your fingers had patched up the holes.

He met your gaze, and you gave him a wide smile.

"Pleasure's all mine", you said.

"If only I could repay you some way..." Caleb smirked, but to his immense disappointment you just gave him a slightly confused look.

"It's alright, really", you said, still giving him that clueless smile as you moved to push your chair back to it's place.

That was the last straw for Caleb.

"Alright, I give up!" he growled in frustration, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat. "I don't know how y'all court these days but clearly I ain't fit for it! Can't believe I was this stupid..."

He muttered and turned away from you, feeling too embarrassed to look at you. He felt your confused gaze at him, and he wished he could just sink through the floor.

"Court?" you asked, and Caleb buried his face in his hands with a sigh. "W-What does food have to do with any of this?"

At this, Caleb looked back up from his hands, and then at you. "What?"

He narrowed his eyes in disbelief at you, but you just stared at him in growing confusion. A confusion that Caleb certainly mirrored by now.

"What do you mean?" he asked, and you shook your head with raised eyebrows.

"What do you mean?" you returned.

Caleb blinked a couple of times, then shook his head in a bewildered manner.

"I-I... Christ, Y/N", he said, turning towards you in an attempt to clear this mess up. "I like you, alright? You know that?"

To his frustration, you just blinked at him.

"I like you too, Caleb, what do you mean?"

Caleb growled and dragged his hand over his face, knowing that he might as well make the biggest fool out of himself now. He had nothing to loose, he was already looking so stupid.

"I'm in love with you, alright?" he spat out, waving his hands as to signal it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I love you, Y/N!"

He met your gaze, hoping for a quick response, but when he couldn't read your face, he decided to give up.

"Christ's sake..." he muttered, feeling his heart drop in his chest.

He got up from his chair and bent down to pick up his duster coat from the floor. Just as he was about to grab his Redeemer and walk out from the saloon, you called his name.

"Caleb!"

He stopped in his tracks, looking at you. A wide grin had taken over your face, a grin unlike any other he'd ever seen you have. You exclaimed something in a foreign language, and then jumped up from your chair.

"Caleb, I love you too! Why haven't you told me earlier?"

Now it was Caleb's turn to stare in confusion at you. You laughed, that amazing laughter that sent him flying high, and he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Why haven't I... Why, I oughta...!"

In one quick move, he'd embraced you tightly in his arms, and you laughed again as he hugged you as close as he'd wanted to for so long. Retracting to look at you, he met your joyful gaze and stroked your hair carefully.

"You're one mysterious thing, you", he chuckled, and you giggled as you carefully moved in for a kiss.

Caleb was more than happy to return the kiss.

#dead by daylight #dbd fanfic #the deathslinger #dbd deathslinger #caleb quinn #the deathslinger x reader #caleb quinn x reader #reader insert

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richwordsxoxo · 3 years ago

Text

My hope that HeXie dynamics and fate is not solely defined or solely controlled by their mental illness.

Ch. 203 keeps bugging me because it feels like such an important moment in the book which depending on how Meatbun frames it eventually, could be the make or break for readers (such as myself). If there’s one take-away I got from just Ch. 203 in particular, it’s that love by itself is not enough to conquer mental illness (mixed with resentment and trauma). I am justifying HY’s treatment of XQC in Ch. 203 using his mental illness.

But it’s also just my personal opinion that while mental illness is a complex issue that in reality “complicates” character development and growth, I hope that beyond Ch. 218 where we see HY acknowledging openly the gravity of his non-con mistreatment of HY and apologising for it, HY (and XQC) by the end of the novel realise the need to seek continued treatment or help of sorts for their respective mental health issues. I really hope that HY’s guilt and realisation of how much he hurt XQC goes beyond Ch. 218.

My personal stance (everyone can differ on this) is that I can accept non-con in a *fictional* book if it’s not made light of (because it is really serious), characters know the gravity of it, and they make the effort to seek ways to avoid repeatedly hurting themselves and those they love in the long term. It mustn’t be a vicious cycle even if character growth is non-linear. Non-linear growth still implies growth.

Treatment (counselling/therapy etc.) for mental health issues is not the be-all-end-all cure that solves everything, but to me it’s one type of signal or first step that HY and XQC realise the impact mental illness has on themselves and the potential for it to lead them down an endless cycle of poor communication, mistreatment (or abuse if I’m to use harsher words) and just unhealthy and unsustainable ways of being together in a relationship. When HeXie choose to be in a relationship, they need to realise that their individual mental health issues affect no longer just themselves but also their loved ones. I think this applies not just to mental illness but the way everyone functions and interacts with others in society. Our actions have consequences on ourselves and others, regardless of whether it was intended or unintended.

For me, there’s no need for Meatbun to write and frame their ending such that their happiness is a state of permanence (unrealistic). But there’s got to be at least a deep realisation/ wake-up call from HY and XQC that they can be ticking time bombs with the potential to hurt each other deeply again and again. But because they love each other, at the very least there’s some part of their consciousness that drives them to continue seeking help for their mental health condition, regardless of the outcome. This is my personal hope for HeXie’s happy ending, not just taking down the evil organisation and mutual reciprocation of love.

There’s no obligation for fictional authors to use their works to discuss “morally correct” principles or how you should or should not treat your partner. Everyone views a piece of fictional work differently and what they hope to get out of the reading experience differ, so we expect different things from a fictional work. For me, because Meatbun has explored so many other complex social issues in CFC and sort of made social commentary on them, I have unconsciously set a “standard” for her to approach sensitive topics too like mental health/illness and non-con in a way that is socially conscious & responsible (I have not thought of a better word HAHA) and empowering. Empowering in the sense that while mental illness is a complex issue, it is not the case that the relationships people form with others are doomed and the outcome is determined solely by their mental illness. There is hope at the end of the tunnel (and novel).

If Meatbun intentionally set out to explore the topic of mental illness in CFC, she is somewhat successful I suppose (though I am not sure how much research she has done on it to ensure accurate portrayal of mental illness in a fictional book (ironic yes I know). For me at least, CFC has given me food for thought on how mental illness complicates love. However, I also hope that CFC’s plot can demonstrate optimistically that while mental illness is a multifaceted struggle where everyone’s experience of it differs, love at the very least can motivate one to strive to take responsibility of their actions at least to some degree, even if their mental health condition is beyond their control at times. I find it a pity to define HeXie dynamics and fate solely by their mental illness.

I know I’m asking a lot for a fictional work that explores heavy themes, but I just happened to look at CFC’s title again on JJWXC, and its first classification/ genre is a romance novel. So it’s still my unrealistic and naive hope as a too emotionally invested reader (HAHA I tried to stop), that the novel ends with a hopeful message: that for once at least in this book, love can conquer the biggest battles and the battles that matter the most in the grand scheme of the book as the novel comes close to ending.

Hexie is dark at times but also beautiful, because they are two flawed but somewhat realistic characters who found love and hope in the other, so I really hope they can be together in a healthier relationship that lasts.

P.s. I love online communities so much sometimes! Talking to people on Tumblr and Twitter really provides a person with so many perspectives to consider an issue!!! Thank you to everyone who has engaged with me in one way or another on this topic~

#case file compendium #cfc #bing an ben #病案本 #hexie #xie qingcheng #he yu

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jayeray-hq · 4 years ago

Note

hello!! i loved how you wrote osamu and i was wondering if it'd be okay to request atsumu for 'how he shows you affection'? thank you so much <3

Of course you can! Honestly it seems fitting my first two requests were for the Miya twins! I even had it mostly written already because I was half writing this one as I wrote Osamu’s just to ensure they were different! 😊💖

How He Shows You Affection: Miya Atsumu

Timeskip/Manga Spoilers

Warnings: very, very slight implied NSFW (so minor you might not even notice honestly)

How He Shows You Affection Masterlist - Character Masterlist

He Tugs/Ruffles Your Hair

You jerked in surprise at the sudden tug on a lock of your hair, not hard enough to be painful, but enough to catch your attention, pulling your attention away from your laptop and your current project. You glanced up to see your boyfriend Miya Atsumu peering at you from across the table an amused smile on his face and a playful light in his eyes.

“What’s got ya thinkin’ so hard there?” he asked teasingly, his cheek in his palm and elbow braced on the table as he watched you a fond light in his eyes, “Ya almost look like steam is about ta come outta yer ears.”

“Just something I need to get done for work,” you admitted with a sigh, unable to help the slight frown on your face as your mind went over everything you’d need to get done, though you were abruptly pulled out of that as he gently tugged your hair again, diverting your attention back to him.

“Looks like it’s stressin’ ya out,” he pointed out, twirling the strand he still held between his fingers. It was a habit of his to play with whatever he was holding in his hands, and your hair happened to be a frequent victim of this behavior. He didn’t seem to be able to resist, whenever he was in the vicinity he had to be touching your hair.

Osamu had once sarcastically told you it was because his brother had never quite gotten over pulling the pigtails of the girls he liked. It had made you laugh at the time, even as it provoked another fight between the twins about who was supposedly more mature.

Still you thought there might’ve actually been some truth in it, because you’d slowly realized he never actually did it to anyone but you. Playfully tugging it or messing with it, and laughing if you pouted or scolded him. Both of you knew you couldn’t stay mad at him for it, especially when he almost always follows it up with a loud smacking kiss to your forehead or cheek.

Admittedly he pulled Osamu’s hair too, but considering he was trying to yank it out by the roots you didn’t think that counted, though there had been some unfortunate painful incidents on your end as well. Luckily long practice meant he no longer had any accidents involving tugging or tangling it up into knots, and you no longer jolted when he did it and inadvertently yanked it painfully in the process.

Another gentle tug pulled you out of your thoughts, and refocused your attention on your boyfriend who was pouting slightly at you, though you knew if you pointed it out he’d deny it vehemently. He was a grown man after all and he definitely didn’t pout like a child.

“Yeah Tsumu?” you asked, unable to help the swell of affection as you looked at him.

“Ya were spacin’ out on me,” he informed you, clear concern in his eyes, “This thing a yers is really doin’ a number on ya.”

“Yeah,” you admitted with a wry smile, “just a bit.”

“Thought so,” he told you with a self-important nod, “Somethin’ had ta be weighin’ on ya fer ya to not notice this handsome face right in front of ya.”

“Uh-huh sure,” you told him unable to keep the amusement from your voice despite the intended sarcasm of the words, something he clearly noted if the pleased spark in his eyes was any indication.

“How long have ya been workin’ on it anyway?” he asked deftly changing the subject.

“A few hours maybe?” you told him glancing hesitantly at your phone trying to remember when you’d started, “a while anyway.”

“Then why don’t ya take a break fer a bit, come out an’ we can go bug Samu at his restaurant for a bit together huh?” he proposed with a devious grin.

“You really should leave your brother alone,” you told him unable to help your amusement.

“Nah, Samu’s used to it, besides as the older brother it’s my job to check in on him regularly,” he assured you faux piously, then wheedled, “Come on princess it’ll be fun.”

“Fine,” you agreed with a sigh, “You’re right I could use a break.”

“That’s the spirit!” he encouraged, bounding out of his seat and ruffling his hand through your hair before heading for the door, “Let’s get going then!”

You heaved a sigh, a helpless smile on your lips as you stood, attempting to straighten your hair as you went. He really was too much sometimes.

He’s Always Touching You

“Tsumu you’re making this kind of difficult you know,” you told your boyfriend unable to keep the amusement from your voice as you attempted to stir the vegetables in the frying pan to keep them from burning, a feat made rather difficult by the fact that Atsumu was wrapped around you from behind, his strong arms around your waist, his chest pressed to your back and his chin hooked over your shoulder.

“It don’t seem to bother ya too much,” he informed you a slightly smug lilt to his tone as he nuzzled his face into the side of your neck affectionately, pressing a chaste kiss to the sensitive skin right behind your ear.

“That’s because I’ve gotten used to it,” you told him dryly, which was true enough. Throughout your relationship Atsumu had always been pretty physical with you, an arm slung around your shoulders, or secured around your waist, his hand in yours, fingers twined together, a hand on your shoulder or thigh, it didn’t matter when or where he always found some way to be in physical contact with you whenever the two of you were in the same vicinity.

It honestly was a little embarrassing at times, especially since he had absolutely no qualms about doing it in public. You’d gotten the stink eye more than once from some of the more conservative people around. Osamu and Suna had actually complained fairly frequently that he was being overbearing and annoying about it, but Atsumu had quickly shut them down by claiming they were just jealous anyway, which had earned him a tussle with his twin and a disdainful look from Suna.

Still, your boyfriend was nothing if not stubborn, and he absolutely refused to stop unless you specifically told him to, and frankly you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, not when he’d looked so hurt the one time you’d shrugged him off after a particularly nasty look from an elderly woman had made you feel incredibly self-conscious. Between his feelings and the rest of the world’s delicate sensibilities, you’d chose to save his feelings every time, and had never shrugged him off again. Besides you liked having him close to you, it was comforting, and it made your heart flutter with happiness.

“It’s not like yer discouragin’ me here,” he teased as he accepted the small bite of food you offered to him over your shoulder with the chopsticks you’d been using to stir humming in appreciation at the taste.

You hummed in acknowledgment unable to keep the fond smile from your face. It was true enough. When it came to Atsumu you really couldn’t get enough.

“Off for a second,” you urged gently, pulling your meal from the stove, and shutting things off, so you could go to the table, which your boyfriend had graciously set for the two of you before he’d come over and attached himself to your back like a limpet.

He huffed and released you for all of the second it took for you to turn around before attaching to your back again, rubbing his face against yours affectionately in a way that reminded you of a cat, and made you giggle. You should’ve been annoyed that you were forced to waddle all the way to the table, with him clinging to you the whole way, but you honestly found it pretty cute. Despite what others, and especially Osamu, would say your boyfriend really did have his cute moments.

“You’re going to have to let go if we’re going to sit down and eat,” you pointed out reasonably once you’d reached the table and set your burden down, though the words were contradictory to your actions as you wrapped your own arms over top the ones he had around your waist and leaned back into him, resting against him and enjoying his closeness.

“What if I don’t wanna?” he asked teasingly, gently squeezing the arms wrapped around your waist, his chin resting on your head as he slowly rocked you back and forth in place.

“Come on Tsumu we have to eat,” you urged with a laugh, “Especially after I made such a nice dinner for us. Can’t let it go to waste you know?”

He agreed with a quiet grumble, and the two of you sat down to eat your dinner, though it didn’t stop him from tangling his legs together with yours under the table, making you smile once more about how cute he was.

He Makes Time for You

“Are you sure this is okay?” you asked your boyfriend, not for the first time, and definitely not for the last.

“Course m’sure princess,” Atsumu told you gently tugging on a strand of your hair, his eyes soft and affectionate, surprisingly patient in the face of your concern.

“But you have that big game coming up,” you worried peering up at him with anxious eyes, “And I know the team’s been having a lot of extra practices. I don’t want to get in the way.”

“It’s our anniversary,” he pointed out, tucking the strand of hair he’d been pulling at behind your ear affectionately, “The team can manage without me fer just one evenin’ so I can take you out to dinner.”

“But…!” you tried again.

“Ah-ah,” he told you placing a firm finger over your lips to silence your protests, “We’re spendin’ the night together and that’s final. Besides we hardly need the practice, we’re gonna kick their asses again this year jus’ like we did last year so ya can stop yer fussin’ about it, otherwise I’m gonna think yer doubtin’ my capabilities.”

You heaved a sigh in response, but decided to give in to him, just this once. He was right after all, it was just one evening, and if you thought about it, he really could probably use a break for a little bit, especially since you knew how very hard he worked. Still when you’d started dating him you’d vowed not to be like the others that had come before you and get in the way of his job.

You knew he loved volleyball, more than pretty much anything, and you admired that about him. His passion, his drive, and the way his face lit up whenever he walked out on to the court, they were all things you loved about him and you’d never want to change them about him. You’d long accepted that you’d have to share his heart with the sport he loved at the very least, and were honestly just grateful that he’d decided to give you equal space, especially considering just how very much he loved it.

“Alright,” you agreed at last. Honestly, you’d been more than willing to put off celebrating your anniversary until after this big game, but you couldn’t deny you found it extremely touching that he was so insistent about celebrating on the day, even more when you realized he’d clearly talked to his team about it in advance to make sure that he could, “If you’re sure.”

“M’sure,” he told you firmly, cupping your cheek in his palm, “We’re gonna go out tonight, have a nice dinner together at that restaurant you like, maybe have some wine, maybe do some dancin’ come home and do another kind of dancin’ and have a good time together to celebrate proper, because yer worth it alright? You and our relationship are worth the time to celebrate the right way, so wait for me okay? I’ll be home at four, and our reservation is at five, dress nice.”

“Okay,” you agreed, unable to keep the smile off your face at the way he described, what sounded to you like a rather wonderful evening, practically beaming at him, your smile so wide it was hurting your cheeks a bit.

“Good,” he told you with a firm nod, “See ya later then princess.”

He bent down, and you eagerly met him half way planting his ritual goodbye kiss on his lips before letting him walk out the door, his volleyball bag casually slung over his shoulder.

“I love you,” you told him sincerely leaning against the doorframe as you watched him leave feeling giddy and completely and utterly infatuated.

“Love ya too princess,” he returned over his shoulder, giving you one last affectionate smile before leaving for the day.

When the door closed you couldn’t help letting out a slightly love-sick sigh that you knew he would’ve teased you mercilessly for if he’d heard it. Really all this time, and he still somehow managed to do things that made your heart flutter and your knees feel weak. It was honestly a little ridiculous, but you couldn’t help it. There just wasn’t anything better than being in love with Miya Atsumu.

#miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu x y/n #miya atsumu x you #haikyuu!!#haikyu imagines #haikyū!!#haikyu fluff #atsumu x you #atsumu x reader #atsumu fluff #atsumu x female reader #atsumu headcanons #atsumu #atsumu imagines #JayeRayWrites

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amjustagirl · 4 years ago

Text

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm.

Masterlist here

AO3 Link here

‘Y'know, when I asked you to manage 'Tsumu, I never imagined you'd manage him like this.’ Osamu states bluntly, eyebrow raised as Atsumu spends yet another evening seated right by her spot at the till, lobbing playful insults and jokes at her until she snaps at him to ‘shut up for the love of all that is holy and stop disturbing the other customers’ .

‘Like what?!’ she splutters unconvincingly, her cheeks turning red.

Osamu gives her a knowing look before he turns away to welcome in another batch of customers.

Osamu closes the shop on the anniversary of its opening, and throws a small party at a rooftop bar that a friend of his owns. She’s told that her attendance is absolutely mandatory, so even though she has class early next morning, she finds herself with a drink in her hand, staring down at the crowds of downtown Osaka. If she squints, she can see a child pulling her mother to a stop, pointing overhead at the rainbow of neon street lights in awe.

‘A hundred yen for your thoughts?’ She doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s Atsumu, his lazy drawl far more pronounced than Osamu’s.

The child in the street below remains rooted to the spot, causing a buildup in the crowd despite her mother’s attempts to pull her away. It makes her think of the first time her parents brought her to visit the city more than a decade ago, and how overwhelmed she felt, surrounded by people and buildings tall enough to touch the sky, so different from her hometown of rolling hills and bamboo groves.

‘Did you feel sad when you left home?’ she replies with a question of her own.

‘Nah - was excited, really. Always dreamed of playin’ volleyball in the big leagues, so stayin’ home wasn’t gonna cut it for me, y'know?’

‘Heartless. Probably made your mother cry’, she accuses him, and he acknowledges it with a careless laugh.

‘What about you? Thinkin’ about home?’ he asks, coming to stand beside her, eyes trained on the thin line separating building and sky.

‘Leaving was necessary’, she responds simply.

Especially with two older brothers blessed with both brain and brawn, far better suited to inherit her father’s steel forge. But while her father might spend most of the day teaching her brothers how to craft the sharpest knives, his evenings were spent at the kitchen table with her perched on his lap, learning to balance numbers in his account books. And with her schoolteacher mother drilling into her head the importance of an education, moving down to Osaka for an accountancy degree seemed less like a choice and more like an inevitable conclusion.

He frowns at her silence. ‘Did you get kidnapped by aliens or somethin’? Usually you’d be snappin’ at me, or scolding me, or shouting at me for being a dick – completely undeserved, by the way’.

‘I just seem quiet because you talk too much. Has anyone ever told you that?’ she retorts. But there is no fire in her words, and he only chortles in response.

They watch in silence as the crowd below them slowly starts to thin out as the dusk fades into night. The cold night air bites through her thin sweater into her skin, and she shivers, unconsciously shifting closer towards Atsumu’s warmth. He shoots her a look that’s halfway between a smile and a smirk as he slides his jacket over her shoulders, and she pretends the flush on her cheeks is from the alcohol in her drink.

But she can’t help but lean into him, letting herself drown in the heat of his hand on her hip and the storm in his eyes.

Osamu’s eyes cloud in disapproval when he finds out she and Atsumu are dating. ‘He’d better not run off my accountant, that’s all I can say’.

‘Osamu! Atsumu’s your twin!’ she scolds, arm deep in a vat of rice water.

‘Exactly’, he responds with a snort. ‘I’m not sure you realise how much of a dick ‘Tsumu can be, ‘specially when all he’s hungry for is chasing a win. I hope you’re ready to handle that.’

‘You’re just worried because you’re too cheap to hire a qualified accountant to do your books’ she grouses and he looks like he’s about to snark back, but the chatter of their first customers of the day entering the shop signals the end of their conversation.

Dating Atsumu isn’t as bad as Osamu makes it out to be. She’s careful not to ask too much of him when he’s busy with training and competitions, and in any case her schedule is full enough with school and her job, but they make the effort of video calling each other at least twice a week if he’s travelling, and if he’s in town, they spend Friday nights with multiple boxes of pizza (Atsumu’s appetite is enormous) , bickering over what movie to watch next.

He insists she watch as many games of his as possible, and he spends so much time crowing about his plays that she should be annoyed, but she finds herself charmed by the childlike enthusiasm in his voice. ‘That’s probably why you’re the only one that can stand him’, Osamu comments but she pays him no mind. He’s in the audience cheering for her when she graduates, and takes her out for a fancy meal when she lands her first job ( no, Osamu, working at Onigiri Miya doesn’t count, no matter what you say).

Their paths might not always converge but when they do, there’s the quiet contentment of finding shelter in each other, and she quickly becomes addicted to the warmth of that feeling in her heart.

‘Stop being a baby’, she scolds, as she peels back the sports tape on Atsumu’s back with deliberate care. ‘It’s your fault for going for practice with a strained shoulder and not listening to your physiotherapist!’

‘Don’t nag darlin’, I had to – it was Hinata-kun’s first practice with us!’ He’s practically buzzing in his seat with glee, and she can’t help the soft smile that grows on her face.

‘There - all done’, she says, and she can’t help but run her hand to rest in the dip of his spine.

‘What would I do without you?’ he asks, shooting her a roguish smile that distracts her long enough that he’s able to pull her into his lap.

‘Idiot’, she huffs fondly, and he chuckles in reply, the sound warming her heart. ‘Hey ‘Tsumu?’ she says again, pushing his wandering hands away.

‘You called, doll?’ he quirks an eyebrow at her, hands heavy against her hips.

‘I love you’, she whispers against the broad expanse of his chest.

‘I know’, he says with light laughter in his voice, and swallows her outraged cry ‘arsehole!’ by sliding his mouth over hers until her breath starts to stutter and she closes her eyes.

There is a storm raging outside, but she pays it no mind.

Her stomach churns when she sees the faint line on the test she bought in a panic during her lunch break, and she now wonders whether the nausea she’s been feeling the past week was not a bug she thought she caught, but actually morning sickness after all. That thought makes her feel like puking her guts out again and she does - unceremoniously every morning for weeks after that.

Atsumu’s in the middle of a series of matches away from home, and she knows he’s warned her again and again not to distract him especially when the championship is within his team’s reach, but the rising swell of panic in her throat outwrestles any rational thought she has left in her head, so she finds herself blurting it out to him the minute they log on for their twice weekly call.

‘You’re pregnant?’ he echoes blankly, rubbing a disbelieving hand over his face. ‘How?’

‘D’you remember the gala night for the opening of the season when I was on antibiotics for an ear infection?’ He nods dumbly, and she twists her fingers in her lap. ‘Yeah… Well I figure it must have happened then.’

The connection of their call crackles, and she strains her ears for his response. It doesn’t come.

‘Tsumu?’

‘Right.’ he finally says. ‘So what are you going to do about it?’

‘I...don’t know,’ she confesses.

They’re both barely on the cusp of adulthood, and the thought of bringing a new life into the world that she’d be wholly responsible floods her with a tidal wave of fear and dread and anxiety that does not ebb away. She’s not sure her boss will take too kindly to finding out she’s pregnant, much less so out of wedlock, especially since she’s barely a year into her job, and she doesn’t even want to think about the dishonour and shame she’ll bring to her family - though a part of her is willing to brave her father’s disapproval and her mother’s tears just to feel their arms around her again.

But her hands are drawn to the slight swell of her belly, and perhaps it’s sentiment clouding her mind, she’s not sure she has it within her to stamp out the flicker of life budding within her after nights filled with dreams of a child with her smile and Atsumu’s eyes.

‘Look - I’ve got to go. We’ll talk when I get home, ok?’ he mutters, logging off before she can say goodbye.

But he doesn’t - not even when his team wins the championship and she finds out from the team’s social media that he’s returned back to Osaka.

Her calls go unanswered, her texts remain unread, and with desperation rising in her chest she turns to Osamu - even though she initially swore to herself she wasn’t going to drag him into the messes that Atsumu tends to make. But the laws in Japan require the consent of the father if she wants to get rid of the problem (though it feels wrong to term it like that), and he’s the closest male friend she trusts enough to step up to the plate.

‘Fuckin’ pig’ he snarls, slamming his fist down on the counter so hard it makes her jump back in shock at seeing the normally mild-mannered Osamu lose his temper and react with such obvious rage. But he calms down quickly to close his shop early and walk her home.

‘It’ll be fine’, he promises her. ‘You’ll see’.

She’s not sure she trusts Osamu’s definition of fine, not when Atsumu turns up on her doorstep that same night with a smear of blood under his nose and a purple bruise over his right eye. She stares at him, her arms folded across her chest.

‘What do you have to say for yourself, Miya?’, she says, and he winces at her use of his surname, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

‘I freaked out ok? Finding out that you got pregnant - that I’m going to be a dad made me panic ‘cos I’m totally not ready for that shit - even though Osamu’s right, I’m a piece of crap and you’re probably going through so much worse and I should do right by you -.’

‘Atsumu, what are you even saying?!’ She interrupts, exasperated.

‘I’m asking you to jump off a cliff with me’, he says, lifting his chin to return her stare.

‘Wha-’

‘Marry me.’ He cuts in softly, bringing his hand to cup her face, brushing his thumb across the corner of her lip. ‘It’s gonna be one hell of a ride, but you and I - we’ll get through this together’.

She’s struck dumb, suddenly reminded of how being with Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. While there’s the thrill of being near enough to witness the sky collapsing into a torrent of rain and hear the wind descend into howls of rage, there’s also the lingering fear that the next flash of lightning might mean pain, or even death.

But Atsumu’s eyes are clear pools of light, and she can only see hope reflected within it. She wonders if it mirrors the hope in her heart too.

So she says yes, and catches his smile in her hands.

They hold a small wedding at the Miya family shrine with their respective families as quickly as they can before the swell of her belly is unable to be hidden by the folds of her shiro-muku, the traditional white of her kimono a stark contrast against the black and gold of Atsumu’s montsuki. Her face is hidden under the weight of her headdress and her hands tremble as she clasps her kaiken, a blade her father forged himself, and her mother’s bamboo fan to her belt. She does not breathe until she and Atsumu take their third sip of sake from the nuptial cup.

Osamu is obviously appointed as the best man, and after the ceremony is over, he slaps Atsumu on the back before pressing a careful kiss to her cheek. ‘You’ve downgraded from being my accountant to my sister’, he tells her, and she has to hide her teary laugh behind her hands. But her heart is full and she throws her arms around his neck until Atsumu clears his throat playfully and she pulls away to greet her family.

‘Take care of her’, her father says, the threat in his and her brothers’ eyes amplified by their wedding gift to her of their sharpest knives. Atsumu meets their gaze evenly and laughs, unfazed.

‘I will’, he says, and he kisses her with his promise still on his lips.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq #haikyuu writing #hq writing #haikyuucreations #haikyuu imagines #hq imagines #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu headcanons #miya atsumu #miya osamu #miya atsumu x reader #miya twins #miya atsumu x y/n #atsumu x reader #atsumu scenarios #inarizaki

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ddarker-dreams · 5 years ago

Text

Aspiration Part 2. Yan Chrollo x Reader [COMM]

click here for part one!

“You’ll hurt your neck if you keep craning your head down like that.”

What good it does to chastise you on an insignificant action like this is beyond you. There isn’t much else to do until you land in this “unknown” destination that he’s spoken of earlier, yet the thought of entertaining conversation with him doesn’t feel appealing either. Being kidnapped will have that effect on you, he shouldn’t expect otherwise but seems to.

“Nothing a few painkillers won’t solve.” you respond with forced disinterest, flipping to the next page of the magazine Chrollo gave you earlier. It feels like a minor loss to entertain him with a response, your cold shoulder treatment temporarily lifting.

You’ve read this magazine at least three times by now, hoping that giving your mind something to focus on will steady you in reality. The lackluster stories about summer sales, latest keto recipes, and what celebrities have been up to lately offer none to little substance. Yet your eyes continue scanning them dutifully as if it’s a sacred text recovered by a forgotten civilization.

Letting out a small yawn, you continue to read until you get to the familiar final page once again. Fully intending on completing the cycle of rereading it, Chrollo interrupts this by plucking it from your grasp before you get the chance. All you can offer in return is a halfhearted glare and grimace.

“Hey! I was reading that.” you protest with a frown, feeling vulnerable without anything to hold onto.

He ignores your agitated exclamation, placing the magazine out of your reach by his side. “I don’t believe you’re missing out on anything of importance, seeing as you’ve read it multiple times already.”

Huffing but not humoring him with a response, you cross your arms and stare out the window. The clouds below you are an enticing sight, still not enough to maintain your attention for the remaining thirty or so minutes of this flight. When traveling, it’s always the last amount of time before reaching your destination that feels like the longest.

Chrollo lets out a disapproving sigh at your actions, then pulls back his sleeve to check the time. “It won’t be much longer. I’ll attribute your current behavior to being hungry.”

“Well, yeah, there’s that,” you finally look over at him, lips pursing indignantly. “And there’s the fact that I’ve been kidnapped by an A bounty criminal and am currently heading to god knows where at four in the morning.”

“You’re by all means welcome to rest.”

How he can calmly rebuke all your thinly veiled sarcasm is a special talent, like water off a duck’s back. You don’t want to admit it, however, you’re grateful he isn’t hotheaded and offended by your boorish remarks. Watching your tongue would be how any sane person would deal with a threat like this… then there’s you. Making poor decisions and winging it. A life motto, really.

An invitation to rest your weary eyes isn’t easily declined, an alluring proposal. His presence makes it a challenge to feel comfortable enough to fall asleep, that state leaving you entirely vulnerable. When you’re awake you have some tandem of control, even if it isn’t much.

“Where exactly would I do that? I don’t see any beds in here.” You emphasize your rebuttal by glancing around the room you two occupy, as if one would materialize at your words. Now that would be a useful nen ability, if he happened to have it.

Chrollo smiles, in a way that doesn’t sit well with you. “Why not rest on my shoulder?”

“W-whatever happened to your previous care over the well being of my neck? That’ll just hurt it after five or so minutes.” you stutter back, face flushing as his lips quirk further upwards. Amusement is dancing within his dark eyes, drawing out further discomfort from you. He seems to like exchanges like this, flustering you with the same ease as breathing.

“Painkillers. You said it yourself,” Chrollo throws your previous statement before you, challenging you with a raised eyebrow. “I’d be happy to get them, if that’s the only reservation you have about sleeping on me.”

Inhaling sharply at his teasing assault, you close your eyes to prevent yourself from doing anything foolish. Gritting your teeth and balling your fists by your side, you remember why you were giving him the cold shoulder earlier. Talking to Chrollo is exasperating, all of his composed words like needles in your skin. Not wanting to swat at the wasp nest any further, your mind starts drifting, in a last ditch effort to distract yourself.

It’s been an eventful night. The most memorable night of your life, if you’re being honest. You had always acknowledged and accepted the risks of looking into the Phantom Troupe. The stories of their unabashed cruelty served as an appropriate warning. Playing it close to the chest usually entailed fear of death, so never in your wildest dreams were you expecting… whatever this is.

At least it beats dying? So you’ve got that going for you.

There isn’t anything you can do now, is what you’ve been telling yourself. Playing along with his whims is all you can think to do. It isn’t the ideal situation, but your only option now is to wait for an opening for escape. Even though Chrollo has more strength than you, he is still human. The thought offers a glimmer of encouragement, knowing that people aren’t infallible. You’ll take advantage of any weaknesses you can find.

Getting more information out of him is a path worth pursuing for the time being.

“I hope we’re not camping,” you murmur, shuddering at the horrific thought. “Bugs eat me like I’m the last supper.”

“We won’t be camping. And despite the name, the last supper isn’t actually the last time the disciples ate.” There’s something extremely ironic about a murderer correcting you on this.

“Please forgive me for not being up to date on biblical theology. I’ll be sure to correct that before the next test,” you deadpan before a realization hits you. “Wait, so what exactly are we doing? How am I even allowed to be on this blimp without my passport? God, none of this makes any sense…”

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever ask. To answer your questions, we’ll be staying at a hotel for a few weeks. I know some people in the area who are interested in purchasing what was stolen earlier.” Chrollo explains with a casual air, smoothing out a wrinkle in his shirt.

It all hits you again. This is really happening to you. An inescapable reality where you’re at the complete mercy of this man, who despite showing no interest in harming you, is fully capable of doing so. Your contempt style of speaking until now has been a pitiful defense mechanism to help you cope with the extremity of this situation, not doing anything aside from momentarily distracting you. Running a hand through your hair, you feel your heart pounding within once more.

Chrollo takes note of how you shift in your seat, and tilts his head. “I understand this has been quite a lot to process. I meant what I said earlier -- about having no intention to harm you -- unless you do something that forces my hand.”

He smiles, the warm action not matching up to the dark implications of his words. It makes your blood run cold, how a monster can wear the skin of a human. There isn’t any benefit of getting yourself further worked up, so you continue rambling on. Life is all about testing the boundaries of what you can and can’t get away with.

“I still… don’t really get it. I know I was looking into information about you guys, but in that case, why not just,” you gulp, fearful that saying it will solidify the possibility. “Kill me? Even more so now that I know more.”

For the first time all night, Chrollo doesn’t offer an immediate quip in response. He carefully considers your words, in a way that leads you to believe he doesn’t entirely know the answer himself. It’s not that you have a death wish, yet your curiosity is overwhelming. Whenever he does decide to grace you with an answer, maybe you’ll find out something that’ll prove useful to escaping in the future.

“There’s no simple reason that’ll satisfy you. You piqued my interest, and that’s a dangerous thing to do with a thief,” he leans over, clearly assessing you as you back away in response. “I confirmed my suspicions when we spoke earlier in the car. So for the time being… I want to observe you.”

He was right when he said the answer won’t be satisfactory. His response leaves more questions than answers, some of which you don’t want to delve into. Backing down from this befuddling conversation, you focus on something else.

The soothing night sky outside elicits butterflies in your stomach. Darkness allows for the city lights beneath to stand out, little twinkling dots of light growing closer as the blimp descends. You can’t help but feel a sense of relief knowing that you’ll be on the ground soon, a sense of claustrophobia constricting you in this room with no escape. His suffocating presence doesn’t help on that front.

Chrollo is finally considerate enough to leave you to your thoughts. Within a few more minutes you’ve made your landing, leaving through a private terminal with what has to be forged ID. A black car rental car is waiting for you outside the airport, Chrollo opening the door to the passenger seat for you. The gentleman-like act almost causes you to roll your eyes, but you’re far too exhausted to do anything other than sitting down obediently. You’ll save the cheek for a later time.

He shuts some luggage into the trunk, then starts the car with a low hum, driving off to where you presume the hotel he mentioned earlier is. Looking out the window, you squint as the sun begins to rise into the sky. Your eyelids grow heavier by the second, in spite of how desperately you cling to consciousness. Eventually, the world around you grows distant, and you’re lulled into a deep slumber.

Dreamless rest is stolen from you, Chrollo gingerly shaking your shoulders and bringing you back to cruel reality. Letting out a low groan at the unwelcome interruption, you feel like swatting his hands away. “What… oh, it’s you.”

“Good morning to you too,” If he’s bothered by your unenthusiastic greeting, he doesn’t show it. Taking out the keys from the car, the vehicle ceases making noise. “We’re here now. You did mention wanting to sleep on a bed earlier, didn’t you?”

Craning your neck to look out the window, you see only about half an hour has passed since you first fell asleep. Outside is a grandiose looking building that must be your hotel. As much as you hate to admit it, you find yourself staring at what has to be the very expensive venue. Much more than anything you could ever hope to afford. While you’re appreciating the sight before you, Chrollo gets out to get his luggage.

That’s right. What are you supposed to do for clothes anyways? All of it’s stuck back at your apartment, and you don’t think Chrollo was generous enough to pack for you. At least a hotel will have toiletries, so that won’t be a concern.

‘Oh well. I guess we’ll cross that bridge once we get to it.’

“Do you need me to carry you?” Chrollo calls over from the curb, two large suitcases in hand. You realize only one of them has a lock on it.

Not even humoring him with a response, you get out of the car, keeping your distance from him. To your understanding, attempting to flee or signal down anyone will earn “unwanted consequences”, or at least that’s how he put it. It’s one thing to endanger yourself in a daring escape, but you can’t justify putting other’s lives on the line.

Morning chill prompts you to wrap your arms around yourself, warding off the cold. Following Chrollo’s lead, you head through revolving doors into a breathtaking lobby. Warm, yellow light from a glass chandelier basks the room in an ethereal glow, accenting the white marble flooring. He walks up to one of the employees behind a desk, checking in and getting a key to the room.

In the liberating few minutes away from Chrollo, your eyes sweep the surroundings for any openings. Is it possible to make a run for it for one of the cars outside? He’s fast -- you’ve seen it for yourself -- undoubtedly more than you. Such an obvious attempt at escape will only be met with failure. The lobby is wide open, no possibilities for hiding evident.

‘There goes that idea.’

Your insistent glancing around the area must’ve given you away, Chrollo placing a warning hand on your shoulder, and giving a firm squeeze. “Let’s head to our room. You must be exhausted by now.”

Once again offering no signs of protest, you head to an elevator together. Chrollo hits the button with the highest number on it. Ascending upwards, you watch the lights around the rims of the buttons with interest until it reaches level thirty. The elevator adds to your dizziness, a fuzzy feeling budding in your head.

With a ding, the door opens to reveal a long hallway. Chrollo checks the number on his key once more, before navigating to a room.

Finally, after what feels like forever, he opens the door to your shared suite. The lobby clued you in earlier that this is no cheap hotel, the suite confirming that. Since it’s at the top of the building, the entire city is visible to you. It’s a breathtaking sight, one that keeps you entranced as Chrollo shuts the door behind you. Looking out the window, you see more signs of life as the morning progresses.

The glass opens up to a balcony, the handle locked and cold to the touch. It’s probably not a good idea to walk out without permission, not sure of the act could be interpreted in a negative way.

Chrollo takes a place by your side, a little too close for your liking. Amidst the beauty before him, he’s more interested in looking at you. “I take it you like the view?”

“I’ve never been in a place like this,” you tell him, eyes wide and mouth agape at the breathtaking scenery. “If I had known we’d be staying here, I would’ve let you kidnap me sooner.”

“That’s a joke, by the way.”

He chuckles lowly at your rushed cover up, thinking little of it. “Are you hungry?”

Now that gets your attention. You can only imagine how wonderful the food here is, and you haven’t had anything to eat since your dinner last night. Having gone so long without food you’re surprised you aren’t ravenous, the kidnapping likely stunting your appetite. Still, you won’t be turning down the offer.

You nod your head to confirm his words. Chrollo walks over to a phone in the room to place an order for room service, quietly listing off a variety of breakfast foods. While he’s occupied doing this, you look around what will be your residence for the next few weeks. He must not take any issue in your wondering about, seeing as he’s covering the only possible exit. How considerate of him.

While he’s busy placing an order, you wonder off to take in your surroundings. From the door that leads to the hallway is a small closet on the left, and an expansive kitchen in the middle of the room. To the right of which is a living room, all surrounded by glass windows. That leaves your sleeping arrangement.

Saving the bedroom for last, your fears are confirmed. You realize that even in such an expansive suite, there’s only a single bedroom, with a king sized bed. Luck doesn’t seem to be on your side. Well, it’s not like you can’t sleep on the floor or couch if the opportunity presents itself. A nagging voice in the back of your mind tells you Chrollo won’t allow for that, unfortunately.

Plopping yourself down on the right side of the bed, you could almost melt into the comfortable mattress. Tempting as it is to fall asleep, you don’t trust Chrollo enough to give that a shot. Frowning at your fancy evening wear from the previous night, your previous concern about not having any clothes to change into returns. The bathroom did have a fluffy, white robe in it.

‘That feels too vulnerable... I’ll take my chances with the dress.’

Getting up before you fall asleep, you look around for anything that might be useful. The phone in the living room might be an idea, if you could somehow call and alert the staff of your predicament. Something tells you Chrollo has already taken that into account, and you write off the idea as soon as it appears.

Speaking of Chrollo, he enters the bedroom with an inviting cart of food in front of him. Everything from hashed browns, scrambled eggs, pastries, pancakes, bacon and waffles sit atop silver plates.

“I wasn’t sure what you like, so I got everything. Help yourself.”

Not needing to be told twice, you grab a plate and go to town. Chrollo grabs a steaming cup of tea, taking a sip and sitting down next to you. The bed creaks underneath his added weight, you too occupied with eating to care about the implications of his action.

He raises the glass to his lips. “Is there anything else you want to ask me, [First]?”

Swallowing your previous bite, you give his question some thought. There is plenty on your mind that you’d love to know. A better, more conclusive answer for why he kidnapped you at the top of that list. You recall how he looked detached from reality when you asked him about it on the blimp, leading you to believe that asking again will earn a similar result.

‘It’d be best to play it safe for now.’

“Yes, actually,” you take a bite of a blueberry muffin, wiping your mouth before continuing. “Am I supposed to wear this damned dress for the remainder of this... arrangement?”

"As lovely as you look in it, no. One of the suitcases has clothes for you, among other things.”

Blinking at this new information, you wonder if he ever intended on telling you this. In your short time of being acquainted with Chrollo, you’ve picked up on how he rewards you for conversation. Humiliating as it is to play along with his tune, you’ll have to do just that.

“Other things...?” you repeat back in a faint murmur, showcasing your confusion by tilting your head. Chrollo nods his head in affirmation to this, setting his now empty tea cup on a nightstand with a faint click.

“You strike me as the type to want something to do, so I went through the trouble of procuring a few of your belongings. A few books, and the like.”

‘Ah. How terribly considerate of him.’

It’s not much, but knowing you have some of your personal possessions is comforting. Anything is better than being stuck alone with him, or your thoughts. The worst possible case scenarios.

Your meal now finished, you get up and place your dirty plates back onto the tray. Chrollo continues relaxing, eyes still following your every moment. How is he not exhausted? The only thing keeping you awake is your fear of what could happen when you’re asleep, and even that is beginning to wane. Maybe some caffeine will help with that.

“I’m gonna get my stuff.” you call over, holding your breath in anticipation of a response.

At his lack of protest, you assume this action is approved of. Helping yourself to the suitcase without a lock on it, you unzip it to find it’s just as he said. Some of your clothes from home, your switch, books, a few offline games, your favorite perfume, shampoo and body wash.

It’s creepy to know someone went into your residence and took your stuff, but that’s the least of your problems right now. While grabbing a change of clothes, a thought hits you. Looking up towards the phone Chrollo used to call room service earlier, your hand twitches by your side. It’s a temptation, taunting you over the possibility of freedom.

‘He’s in the other room relaxing. Maybe, just maybe I have enough time...’

Cautiously, as not to alert him of your scheme, you begin to silently tiptoe over to the phone. Time feels like it goes slower, not even trusting yourself to breathe in fear of him hearing it. Hand hovering over your possible saving grace, your fingers grow closer to pressing 9.

That’s when he appears in the corner of your eye, leading you to hurriedly bring back your hand and straighten your back.

“I already cut the wires. It was a good idea though.” he calls over from the doorway, leaning against it and smiling in a way that makes your stomach curl. Not a single detail has gone overlooked, but what were you expecting from a mastermind criminal who has managed to go this long without being caught?

Checking to see if his words hold any merit, you find it’s just as he said. Wires cut in a single clean motion, biting your lip as your hopes evaporate in front of you.

It reminds you of Tantalus. Who was cursed to be hungry and thirsty forever, in the taunting reach of food and water that’d recede whenever he went to partake in it. An eternal punishment you’re now being subjected to.

‘I should’ve known it wouldn’t have been so easy. Still, how could he have not made a single sound? I didn’t even hear the bed creak.’

Laughing nervously at being caught, you step back as to avoid further consequence, cheeks flushing at being caught in your measly attempt. “Just... checking to make sure all is in order, aha...”

Walking away from it, you look to change the subject. Chrollo doesn’t seem bothered by your defiant actions, having clearly already anticipated your idea. He rolls out the cart from before, leading you to stiffen when he walks past you. Heart pounding away in your chest, you silently observe him opening the door to place it outside.

He looks back at your anxious form after shutting the door. “I’d rather not have to constantly monitor you. Whether or not I do will be determined by how you act.”

There’s a thick pressure in the room from his words, one that pushes down on you like a heavy weight. Unable to maintain eye contact with him any longer, you look to the side, clutching your clothes to your person. Chrollo doesn’t have to resort to infuriated threats or physical violence, his presence commanding enough on its own.

To ease the tension in the air, Chrollo speaks up. “If I happened to leave out anything you need, let me know.”

Grateful for the change in subject, you nod your head in a daze. From now on you’ll have to be more discreet. Mentally slapping yourself for not giving your earlier actions more consideration, you move on at Chrollo’s lack of reprimanding.

“Is it alright if I get changed?” you speak up, voice meek enough to remind you of a mouse. Chrollo considers you before nodding his head. You jump at the opportunity to be alone, borderline running to the master bathroom and shutting the door behind you.

Looking in the mirror, you see your frowning reflection staring back. Placing a hand to your face, you inspect the bags forming underneath your eyes. Peeling off the dress feels heavenly, using a wet rag on the sink to quickly clean your body. Showering with a murderer in the other room isn’t a tempting proposition.

Putting on your clothes, you feel like a new person. Straightening up your hair and splashing your face with cold water, you place your hands onto the cool marble counter top.

‘I’m going to get out of this. It’ll be okay, [First]. Stay calm.’

Finishing your mini pep talk, you fold your previous outfit and place it on the floor. Will Chrollo even allow someone into your room to clean it? Not that it matters, seeing as you spotted a washer and dryer earlier.

He’s sitting up in bed when you open the door, a book now in hand. At your presence, he looks up to acknowledge you. Chrollo’s dark hair frames his face, and you flush at his admittedly handsome appearance. How are you supposed to remain composed in his company?

“I can close the blinds if you intend to sleep.” he offers before turning to the next page of his book.

Oh, that’s right. Now that you’re wearing pajamas he must assume you want to sleep. The next hurdle of this headache inducing dilemma, Chrollo having the expectation of you resting next to him. Eyelids feeling heavier by the second, you wonder how much coffee would be necessary to keep you awake.

That’d still be delaying the inevitable. Coffee or not you won’t be able to stay conscious forever. Earlier, when you fell asleep in the car, he didn’t do anything weird... right? Nothing that you can account for.

He looks up at you, noting your lack of response. Unfreezing from your prior stiff position, you make the decision to sit down next to the bed. Chrollo most likely wants you where he can see you after your previous stunt, and sleeping on the floor isn’t the worst thing in the world.

Aside from the back pains.

Making yourself comfortable, you fully intend to fall asleep on the floor. Chrollo closes his book at your antics, coming over to your side of the bed and frowning. “What are you doing?”

“I’m about to sleep.”

“... On the floor?”

“Yeah, that’s the plan.”

Unreadable grey eyes pierce through your being, sending chills down your spine. From your previous interactions with him, you thought a measly sign of resistance such as this one wouldn’t matter. Your initial assessment must be incorrect, as he sends you a disapproving look.

“There’s no reed for that.” he reasons with you, leaving little room for argument. Not wanting to give in, you remain planted in your spot. Without wasting anymore time, he gets up and crouches next to you. You wonder if he’s going to chastise you further for your childish actions.

He instead lifts you up in a single, fluid motion. A small noise of shock leaves your lips at the sensation of being hoisted up, scrambling to clutch onto him in fear of falling. It doesn’t last long, as he places you down onto the bed with gentleness that you didn’t expect him to have.

Arms receding back to his side, Chrollo returns to his previous position as if nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred. You feel your face burning, a bright red glow coupled with it. The scent of his cologne lingers, memory of his touch flustering you further.

Clearing your throat to play off the events, you still can’t manage to look at him. “I was planning on sleeping here, actually. Was just testing the floor out.”

He opens his book back up to its previous page, lips quirking into an amused smile. “I’m sure you were.”

Having no other options, you lay on your side facing the wall. Muscles taut and incapable of relaxing in his presence, you squeeze your eyes shut to no avail. All you hear is the gentle hum of the air conditioner on the wall, and the occasional page flip from him.

More time passes, at a snails pace. An hour ago you would’ve entered slumber easily, now it taunts and eludes you. Huffing at your inability to rest, you adjust yourself against the soft mattress.

Sighing quietly in defeat, you attempt to make conversation to pass the time. “Do you not ever need to sleep?”

“I’ll be fine for a while longer. Are you concerned for my well being?” You can imagine the smug visage on his face, clear as day. It’s tempting to want to bite back with no, you’re not very worried about his health. You bite your tongue and instead ignore the teasing.

Sitting up and hugging your knees to your chest, you look over at him. His guard is still on high alert even while he’s reading. There’s an immeasurably gap in strength between you two, accented by his casual demeanor.

“That makes two of us. I don’t feel tired now,” you narrow your eyes in his direction, wanting desperately to know what it is he’s thinking. “Something tells me we’re not going to be sitting here all day.”

“For a majority of it. I’ll consider taking you out for dinner if you continue acting agreeable.”

Tempting you with food, huh? It’s a most valiant effort, one that almost threatens to win you over. Especially since cities always have a variety of nice restaurants to choose from. Giving his proposition some thought, you realize there might be a catch. There always is with these kinds of ordeals.

“What is your definition of... agreeable?”

Disliking the way the word feels on your tongue, you purse your lips. Dehumanizing is how you’d describe it, knowing that your actions are being analyzed and studied. If Chrollo notices the bitterness in your voice, he doesn’t feel a need to mention it.

“I don’t care much for labels, but I’d equate it to wanting to date you. I told you earlier that I had taken an interest in you, that’s what I meant.” Chrollo explains to you with ease that tells you how much thought he’s given it.

When he had told you he was interested in you earlier, you thought he meant it in an entirely different way. Like how you find a certain movie interesting or entertaining. Now you’re unsure what to think. Mind swarming with thoughts ranging from maybe it’s a good thing, to what do you do now?

Finally, you deliver your eloquent and delicately woven response, having put every level of care into it.

“Oh.”

Glancing over at your dumbfounded expression, he can’t help but laugh airily at your mortified look.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

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corysmiles · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! If you’re still doing prompts, maybe Techno finds borrower Ranboo and thinks he’s a spy or something?

this is such a fun idea thank you :]

T!ranboo g!techno

cw/somewhat graphic depictions of violence, language (the cut is because its long)

———————————————————

Techno let out a deep huff as he swept out the hay from Carl’s small shed. The brown stallion whinnied at the exhausted piglin from its spot in the corner. The horse’s head rested against the small box heater Phil had made for him during the harsh winters.

“I do so much for you Carl,” Techno grumbled, “You better appreciate this.”

This horse’s tail flicked lazily but otherwise Techno got no response from Carl. He walked over to scratch the horse’s ears when he spotted a strange mound of dirt next to the horse’s foot.

He bent down to look at the pile and was surprised to find that not only was there grass present in it, but small white wildflowers. He glanced suspiciously around the stable and sure enough spotted a couple more dirt piles with various kinds of grass and plants.

It couldn’t have come from nearby...something had been here.

Techno felt the voices start to pound against his head with cries of danger and lust for blood as clumps of dirt slipped out of his fingers.

“Blood!”

“Spy!”

“Danger!”

“KILL”

“YOURE NOT SAFE”

“SOMEONES HERE”

Techno shook his head to clear the voices and gazed back up at the horse who seemed remarkably calm, despite the fact that someone had obviously been in the stable.

A glimmering blade slipped out of the sheath on Techno’s side as he searched around the stable for any more evidence of the break in.

And that’s when he spotted the small creature curled up on the heater next to Carl’s head.

Techno glared down at the small thing and recognized it as some strange looking borrower. Borrowers weren’t completely uncommon but Techno was rather surprised that one had found its way out into the tundra.

(The rest under the cut)

Slowly he scooped the kid into his pocket and took him inside the cabin where he was unceremoniously dropped on the kitchen table. Meanwhile Phil swung back and forth on a rocking chair as he flipped through pages of a worn book.

“Hey Phil,” Techno called, “Look what I found.”

Phil tilted his head up over the book to see the table more clearly and his eyes immediately clouded with confusion.

“The L’Manberg borrower?” Phil paused, “Why’s he all the way out here?”

Techno’s head snapped towards the resting borrower as the voices screamed Phil’s words right back at him.

“L’Manberg borrower?”

Phil nodded as he slowly stretched and got up from the chair. He leaned over the small teen and studied him before raising his eyebrows in confirmation.

“Yep it’s him,” Phil explained, “Tubbo caught him in L’Manberg one day and then he just kinda stuck with him...doesn’t explain why he’s out here though.”

Techno felt his blood boil as he pushed his friend away to glare at the small boy. He knew why he was here...he was that little tyrant’s “pet” after all.

“He’s a fucking spy Phil,” Techno spat, “Don’t you see that...that’s why he’s here. Next thing you know the governments gonna be at our door because of this bug.”

Phil slowly placed a hand on Techno’s shoulder who shrugged it away.

The older man sighed, “Maybe you’re overreacting a bit...at least let the kid defend himself first.”

“No,” Techno grumbled back, “I already know what I need to know Phil. You should probably go.”

Phil let out a deep sigh but listened to the piglin’s words. Techno’s vision was red with fury as his claws grated into the kitchen table; in the back of his mind he registered the sound of wind chimes as a door opens and shut somewhere else in the cabin.

When he was sure Phil had left Techno snapped up the borrower in his hand who’s eyes shot open in panic.

“Huh? Wha?” the borrower squeaked as Techno started to apply pressure to the younger’s body.

“What do you think you’re doing here?” He snarled, bearing his sharp tusks at the borrower.

“I- I don’t know, really,” the tiny boy wheezed, “It was just warm, and I woke up in the cold- and and the snow. And it hurt so bad I-“

Techno growled and squeezed even harder while the kid started to panic and claw at his hands for breath.

“Please please I’m sorry, let me go please,” the borrower begged as it desperately tried to push away from Techno’s grip.

Techno laughed coldly, “You really think I’m gonna let the tyrant’s little spy go?”

The boy’s eyes went wide with fear, “I don’t know what you mean! I really don’t I’m sorry. Please I don’t know how I got here!”

Techno snarled at the kid and increased the pressure more ; the kid started to cry in his hold and to his surprise small blisters started today form across his cheeks.

“Please please I don’t know what I did,” the kid sobbed, “I don’t wanna die please.”

Techno growled again but the red tint had already started to face from his mind. With a clear head he noticed that the awful smell of burning flesh from the kids tears had filled the room.

Techno loosened his grip a bit, just enough so the borrower could breathe.

“You’re not gonna die,” Techno grumbled, “But I wanna know why you’re here spyin on us.”

The borrower wiped away his tears with one sleeve and took a deep breath to calm himself.

“I promise I don’t know how I got here...” he whispered fearfully, “I woke up in the snow and it hurt so bad and I...I found the stable with the heater and I thought it would be okay...”

Techno sighed at the panicked borrower and finally let him slide out of his hand onto the kitchen table. The borrower’s mismatched eyes gazed up at the piglin in shock.

“I don��t trust you,” Techno cautioned, “But I’m not gonna kill you.”

The small borrower nodded fearfully and sat up on the table.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, “I’m sorry for trespassing...I really didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah yeah, just don’t make me regret letting you live,” Techno threatened, “If I let you leave and I hear that you blabbered to that tyrant...You won’t get another chance.”

The tiny nodded quickly in agreement and stood up from the table, “Uh, I’m Ranboo, by the way.”

The piglin hummed in acknowledgment as he paced around the kitchen, “Nice to meet you, I’ll get my friend. He’ll help get you home.”

After a few minutes Ranboo watched as a familiar tall winged man walked into the kitchen with the piglin and smiled at the smaller boy.

“Alright come here mate, lets get you home,” Phil insisted.

Ranboo let himself be tucked into the man’s pocket and after a few hushed words between Phil and the piglin, he heard the whiny of a horse. Phil mounted the stallion and quickly took off towards L’Manberg with the small borrower in tow.

When they arrived at nightfall Phil cautiously brought Ranboo to the White House and knocked on the large wooden door. A dark hood hovered over his face to prevent any...conflicts.

After a few seconds lights turned on in the house and an exhausted looking Tubbo opened the door.

“Huh, What is...oh,” the president stuttered as the sleeping borrower was dropped into his hands by the figure. He nodded appreciatively at the mysterious man before he was handed a small roll of paper.

“For me?” Tubbo whispered.

Phil shook his head and nodded towards the borrower clutched against Tubbo’s chest.

“Okay...thank you, whoever you are,” and with that Tubbo watched as the figure mounted its horse and took off away from L’Manberg.

When Ranboo woke up it was to Tubbo’s soft snores and a rolled up letter next to him. He quietly unrolled the worn paper and found a small hastily written note with his own name at the top.

“Ranboo. Sorry for scaring you. Come back whenever. -Techno & Phil”

#anon ask #ask #mcyt gt #mcyt g/t #t!ranboo #g!techno #g!philza #g!tubbo #corywrites

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