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penvisions · 2 months

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the melting point {chapter 17}

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Baker! Reader (exEMT! reader)

Summary: You and Frankie have some conversations about the future, but not all of them are so serious. Meanwhile, the gang are up to something....

Word Count: 7.1k

Warnings: medical jargon, description of injuries (not detailed), mention of surgical scarring, reader has limited mobility, reader uses a walker, reader uses a wheelchair, panic, depression, anxiety, reader is self-conscious in her body, a lot of emotions, description of female body, body modification, reader gets some new ink, and someone else too, pet names, canon typical violence, frankie loses his temper (inspired by the one gif of him yelling about killing ppl), frankie gets overwhelmed, smoking, cigarettes, consumption of nicotine, a lot of emotions!

A/N: okay, okay, i know i said i'd post this on friday but my brain decided to be not so nice to me and make me stare at the document for this chapter for hours. but, it's here and i'm happy with it. there are so many grammar errors but uploading this is the last task of the day before bed, so they’ll be fixed tomorrow

if you have the time, please take a peek at the poll for this fic

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

You feel shy.

You feel self-conscious.

You feel like it’s the first time meeting him all over again the next morning when he descends from getting dressed upstairs and greets you in the kitchen.

You had woken up early, bones aching and enough feeling to shuffle with your walker toward the miracle invention that was the coffee maker. Spacing out as you held you left hand out in front of you and took in the way the diamond he must’ve spent countless hours working to afford was nestled in the delicate gold band that fit so perfectly.

All of his working despite you being in the hospital, being comatose and then being awake but a faucet of never-ending emotions that ticked from hot to cold at a moment’s notice. It had been to provide for you, to offer you a future with him, to spend two weeks of unbothered time with you to help you navigate the new routine of your life.

You startled when his arms wrapped around your waist, his forehead resting against the back of your head, rustling the untamed strands. You felt heat bloom atop your chest and stretch over the expanse of your neck to fill your cheeks. Ducking your head, you squeaked out a small greeting, bringing your hand back to yourself and settling it over the mug of long chilled coffee.

“Everythin’ okay?”

You could only hum in response, voice lost amidst the bashful way in which you were almost afraid to turn around and face him head on. His beautiful face, crowned by chocolate curls that you could spend hours running your hands through, the endearing scruff that tried to grow in fully but never managed to tinged with sparkling silver, those wide eyes that sparked warmth the second they turned to you.

No, everything was not okay.

He was beautiful, he was handsome, he was everything you ever wanted all rolled into one package. He was yours, now, and you felt completely unworthy.

The repeat of his question was interrupted by a soft knock on the door.

Panic rose up suddenly, spurred on by the self-doubting thoughts that had been consuming you from the moment you woke up in a cold sweat. Your body tensed in his hold, his arms twitching as he felt it happen in real time. Your breathing became labored, legs twitching with the need to move, to run.

“I dunno who would be here this early…” He began to turn toward the door, hold loosening around you and allowing you to take in an attempt at a calming breath. He assured you he would be right back before your eyes followed his movement over the threshold and toward the front of the house. Without a thought for even the walking aid you had, leant up against the cabinets beside you, you pushed into motion and fled the room. Thankful for the layout of his house, you rushed on shaking legs to the safety of the guest room, hands heavy on anything that could help to stabilize you, closing the door and locking it with frantic movements. Tears of embarrassment welled up and you felt like a fool.

Anyone who would be coming to Frankie’s house was a friend or family. There was no need to feel the pricks of anxiety or panic that were spiking all over your body, beads of sweat budding on your temple and the small of your back.

Faint sounds of an easy-going conversation floated down the hall and underneath the cracks of the door.

The anticipation of them moving further into the house has the hairs on the back of your neck standing up, skin prickling. You have no idea why you’re suddenly so afraid, but you are and it’s stolen the very breath from your lungs, the voice from your throat.

“Querida?” Frankie’s voice called out, confusion coloring his words as he no doubt returned to the kitchen to find you gone and your walker abandoned. The cup of coffee you had indulged in alone on the counter. His muffled steps down the hall on the plush carpet had you gripping the handle of the door despite the lock still being engaged. Emotions overwhelming as the tears began to slide down your heated cheeks. His voice called out again, closer, and your heart thudded in your chest. “Sweet girl, you back here? Pope brought us breakfast, said he was headed into the office but wanted to drop by and say hi."

Silence. Save for the halting steps right outside the door. You could swear he was able to hear the way your heart was beating hard in your chest, knocking on the inside of your ribcage in a heavy, hectic pattern.

“Mante?” Santi’s voice called from down the hall, hesitant but laced with concern. His steps were louder than Frankie’s, presence appearing on the other side of the door alongside him. “How did she even manage to get far without the walker?”

The doorknob jostled as one of them tried to open the door, shaking your already trembling arms as they realized it was locked.

Your name was spoken with caution, worry saturating the sound.

“The door’s locked, Fish.” Santi’s voice was hushed, like it was a secret you were all trying to keep each other from knowing. But it was blatant, obvious in the way that your fingers had deliberately engaged it and the hands of theirs that had tried to turn it. The handle wasn’t budging and neither was the door.

“Sweet girl…are you okay?”

“Did you get scared, carino? It’s just me, I know I stopped by unannounced, but I just wanted to see you is all.”

The answer you want to give them is a ghost on your tongue. Existing only in your mind, never given voice. The door handle jostled one more time, a heavy sigh sounding as it didn’t turn and allow them entrance into the sanctuary you had sought out. Retreating footsteps weren’t enough for you to unlock the door, but you did retreat from it and slowly move toward the bed. Pain licked at you through the aid of the pain killers you had left in the kitchen, the intention of the coffee that had been forgotten as you got lost in thought and now hidden yourself away.

A muffled conversation, the sound of the front door opening and closing, an engine turning over. Then silence.

Frankie called your name as he padded down the hall once again, an edge to his voice that hinted at his growing concern. A sniffle and a lilt of desperation punctuating in his words.

Surging up at the sound of his watered voice, you pressed your forehead to the door. You wanted to open the door and fall into his embrace, to soothe his tears and worries but you couldn’t. You felt so frozen, body unwilling to do what you bid.

“Sweet girl, just let me know you’re okay? You don’t – you don’t have to open the door, I promise. Just, I’m setting the walker next to it if you need it, okay?” Frankie’s words were soft, comforting despite the unease you were sensing through the door.

Before he could even think, his fist was slamming against the interrogation room’s mirror. The glass shook violently, giving away the audience hidden on the other side of the two-way device. The figures on the other side startled, the shooter breaking out into a wicked grin after looking toward the mirror.

“To answer your question, officer. There was no motive, she was just there, alone, an easy target to pick off until that bitch got in the way.” His words were snide, unflinching in honesty.

Another hit landed on the panel of glass.

The officer leading the interrogation leaned over to speak to the one standing guard at the inside of the door. A quick word into his walkie and the two men in the observation room were announcing that Frankie needed to step out and collect himself. Santi agreed on the angered man’s behalf, a guiding hand on Frankie’s shoulder as they moved toward and then through the door out into the hall.

“Hey, look, it’s not okay. But you gotta reign your emotions in check. We’re here to corroborate what happened, as witnesses.”

“Pope. C’mon, man, you know that hijo de puta needs to be locked up, with the heaviest sentence possible. My six-year-old daughter is having panic attacks and had to delay her entire school year. Mante wakes up every other hour, whimpering in her sleep and crying out like she’s being shot all over again It’s hard to see her that way and she can’t- she can’t even-“

A large hand scrubbed roughly at the tears of anger and frustration that began to cloud his vision.

The sound of the door to the interrogation room opening halted Santiago’s move to embrace the crumbling man. Frankie lunged, mind focused on the man being lead through the door in cuffs. Before anyone could blink, Frankie’s large frame was across the hall and pushing the smaller man up against the wall. The back of his head meeting the wall with a harsh thud. He let out a grunt at the contact, unable to shield himself or block the rage aimed at him as Frankie’s fist came down hard on his cheek.

“Frankie, primo, you gotta calm down!” Santi’s voice was harsh, tone biting to try and break through the chaos, the officers also stepping in to separate the two men before Frankie could land another hit.

“I’ve got a terrified fiancé back home who’s barricaded herself in a room and won’t even speak because of this piece of shit!” Frankie growled, rage taking over him in a way he couldn’t recall since his days running around jungles and guns an extension of his hands. An extension of himself and who he used to be. His shoulders were taut under his friend’s hands, pulling him back and holding his hands behind his back. One of the officers wrangled a pair of cuffs over Frankie’s wrists, the clink of the metal loud amid the sudden silence of the hallway. All Frankie could do was watch at the shooter was lead away, his heaving chest lightening slightly in pride at the sight of blood dripping from a cut that was in the middle of an already blooming bruise.

“Alright, now that that’s out of your system, we’re gonna have to keep you until you calm down.” When Santiago began to open his mouth to say something the officer closed his eyes and nodded his head slightly, beginning to lead a cuffed Frankie away. “We won’t press charges, but there’s no guarantee he won’t try to. We’ll vouch that it was provoked. Try to sweep it under the rug.”

“Of course, thank you.” The man moved away from Frankie to allow the officer room to undo the cuffs around his wrists. “We really appreciate you allowing us to sit in on the reading of the official charges.”

“I should be thanking you, you were the run who took him down, right?”

“Yes,” Santiago shook the man’s hand, keeping Frankie in the corner of his vision, unnerved by the violent display of his normally calm and cooperative friend. “Had my service gun on me that day, years of experience allowed me to keep an even head despite having seen my friend gunned down. And he- he’s normally so levelheaded with this type of stuff but it’s his family that was targeted. He’s allowed an outburst or two, huh, primo?”

“Well, again, thank you. Please feel free to reach out with any questions regarding the case but it’ll be fairly open and shut from here on out with his taped confession.”

“We need a weekend away.” Santiago spoke into the silence of the cab. He was in the driver’s seat, Frankie silent and stewing in the passenger side. The cloying scent of nicotine wafting from their twin cigarettes, the snick of their nails as they asked the only sound aside from the ticking of the cooling motor.

“Can’t even get her to come out of the guest room, I’ve been sleeping on the couch, hoping she at least makes her way into the kitchen, but that door’s been shut since you came over two days ago.”

“Is it still locked?” A long inhale, held on his tongue and them blown out the window between a frown, Santiago turned to his friend, emotions a hum lit up and amplified by the events of the day.

“I’ve been too worried to check. I don’t want her to feel cornered if I do and it is open.”

“She’s talked to Will a little more in depth about her past, maybe it would be good to call him over?”

“I asked her to marry me.”

The cigarette dropped from Santiago’s fingers, his curls bouncing as he tried to catch the smoldering thing before it could burn his leg. The breakdown you had on your last day in the hospital rang in his ears, the worry and anxiety you had been carrying around at the lack of physical attention from the man beside him now.

“Fish, that’s…that’s a lot. Are you sure-“

“She said yes.”

“That’s…that’s good, Fish.”

“But now she’s hidden away in that room, she’s…she’s going through so much and I just want to be there for her.”

“When you first started getting clean, you didn’t want to see any of us, remember that?”

“Because I was ashamed that it got so bad.”

“I think…even if you want to be there for her because you feel like it’s the right thing, you have to be there for her in the way that she needs right now.”

“I should call Will, he’s the one with the degree in this type of stuff.”

“Taylor too, he’s still in town, helping run the shop, right?”

“Yeah…”

“You know there’s nothing to worry about with him….right?” The question lilting from Pope was hesitant, the man unsure if he should broach the subject. He knew how these things went between people, half of a couple dealing with trauma by backpedaling into the comforts they know. He didn’t want to worry about you that way, acting on past emotions in the wake of such an event, but he did. For Frankie should that happen, for all of them should that happen. You moving out of the state and back to what you knew would cause a hole to open up in their group, a missing piece that became a part of the set.

You had brought so much with you as they folded you into their lives, a bright spot as they tried to move past the things they carried with them, that plagued them when it was too quiet.

“I’m not worried about him.” Frankie took a drag from his own cigarette, the last from the dwindled down filter between his fingers. He snubbed it out on the side of the truck before flicking it toward the asphalt of his driveway. “Talked to him a lot at the hospital, he’s…he’s just a part of her and I accept that. He helped me pick out the ring and said it would be a good time to do this, if the thought was already there and I know it’s only been six months, Pope, but…she’s – she makes me feel like everything is going to be okay.”

“She’s a good one, knew it from the moment she didn’t punch my lights out when I approached her in the gym one day. Just wanted to help correct a stance and she…she smiled so brightly at me and listened instead of waving me off.”

“She didn’t deserve this,” A hiccup forced its way through Frankie’s throat as he tried to tamp down swell of tears. He coughed, trying to rid himself of the lump in stuck in the base of it, but he couldn’t. The surge of heat that accompanied tears was all too familiar.

“No, but she’s strong. She’s got all of us to help her, she’s got a place with all of us to take her time healing and she’ll be okay. I promise you that, mi amor.” Santi reached over and pulled the shaking man into an embrace, hand curling into his hair and knocking the cap from atop his head. All Frankie could do was bury his face in his friend’s neck, tears falling as he failed to keep them at bay.

Neither man noticed the flutter of curtains in the living room window.

It was late, the only sound in the dark house was the ticking of the clock in the kitchen. Frankie had tried to sleep on the couch again, but when he woke up with a jolt of pain in his back he had retreated to his room. The third night of doing so finally getting to his ragged body. Frankie sighed as he reclined in his bed, heating pad on the highest setting below him and right on the small of his back. Sleep pulled him under, the day’s events having wiped him out.

Between Lex’s afternoon therapy, his trip to the precinct downtown, a visit to your bakery to gather the mail and a few more items with the help of Taylor. Dinner was hard, with Lex asking quietly after you, worried for you even as she struggled with her own emotions and what had happened. She wasn’t as chatty as normal, which was okay with Frankie, though he did wonder if she would be able to overcome what had happened. She was so young, it would follow her throughout her entire life in ways they didn’t know until they showed. She was already nervous in crowds, an obvious one.

It was something Frankie had tried to prevent his entire life, the exposure to violence in his personal life, but of course it found a way.

Repentance for the things he once did and the violence he inflicted himself. Guilt and the urge to do something about it weighed him down as he tried to be the best version of himself for his daughter.

He didn’t stir at the sound of the guest room below creaking open or your soft steps as you hesitantly peeked out into the short hallway.

He didn’t stir at the at the clank of your walker moving around the hardwood of the living room, nor the soft pants of your exertion.

He didn’t stir at the sound of it clattering suddenly when you lost your balance.

But at the whimpered call of his name, almost scared from your lips, he was surging up. His feet carried him swiftly through the room and down the hall, to the landing of the stairs where he could see the shadow you made as you gazed up from the bottom of them. You had tripped on the first step and he hoped you hadn’t tried to scale them.

“I-I didn’t know where you were, I thought- I’m sorry. Just go- just go back to sleep.” Your voice was shaky, a touch higher than your normal timbre.

You moved your hand from the railing where you had reached out, looking for all the world like you had been about to attempt to ascend them. He was thudding down them before the words even left you, so quiet and hesitant.

“No, no, sweet girl, please don’t apologize.”

“You weren’t on the couch…” A sniffle, followed by a scrub of your hand underneath one of your eyes.

“I was,” Frankie rushed out as he sat down on the second to last one and reached out for you. You only looked at him through the dim moonlight filtering in from the windows, blinds closed but curtains still pulled back like they were during the day.

“You went back to your room, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ You turned away, hands settling back on the bars of your walker, prepared to leave him there, just out of reach. His heart panged in tune with your own as you wouldn’t look at him directly. The shine of unshed tears in your eyes hurting him so much more because he was the cause of them.

“No, no, it’s okay. I’m here.” He wrapped his fingers around your wrists, urging you to stay with him. You let him gently pull you toward him, his arms wrapping around you in a loose hug. Your hair tickled his face as he rested his forehead against your own. His own curls, wild from tossing and turning and then finally face planting crushed softly against you.

“…can you help me with a bath, please, I know it’s late….” You looked so scared, so worried about disturbing him and he mentally cursed himself for anything he may have done to make you feel such a way.

Moments later, you found yourself submerged in a steaming bath. Bubbles and Epsom salts comforting in a way you had needed. A warm washcloth was gentle on your back and shoulders as Frankie leaned down from his spot on the lip of the tub to run it over your skin. He was admiring the delicate work of the ink that decorated your shoulders and upper back. Thinking, not for the first time, that he wanted to get his daughter’s name.

“Can you…can you do me a favor?”

“Anything, sweet girl.”

“Can….can we just go back to being friends again?”

The sudden splash of the washcloth startled you, body jolting at the unexpected sound.

“Like…you want to give the ring back?” Frankie’s words were low, gruff in surprise.

“No!” You turned to face him, not liking that your poor phrasing and lack of articulation caused the man to think you didn’t want him anymore. He looked completely defeated, curls flopping over his forehead from the steam of the bath, eyes rimmed with dark circles, his facial hair a little longer and less tamed, deep crease in his forehead. You reached for his hands, just hanging from his wrists flat over the edge of the tub. Intertwining your fingers with his, you tried to explain better. “No, I very much still want to be your wife!”

A moment goes by, where he waits for the words he can see flitting across your face come to life.

“Just, everything is about the hospital, or therapy, or medication, doctor appointments. I feel more like a burden than anything right now and I just want, I just want to be with you like that again. Dumb jokes, the teasing at jumbled words, your casual touches. I want to be normal again, Frankie.”

“I-I didn’t mean to let that all fall away, I’m so sorry, mi amor.”

“You don’t touch me unless it’s to help me move around and it…that hurts Frankie.”

“I’m so worried I’m going to hurt you, that I’m going to do something wrong.” He kept his gaze locked on yours, brown eyes wide and earnest. You could feel the honesty and concern laced in his voice, he had been keeping his distance because he was scared. Seeing anyone laid up in a hospital bed was a lot, to see someone close to you? That was even worse.

You couldn’t imagine the thoughts and feelings he had been overwhelmed with for all those weeks. The thing that caused you to be there already so much. Doctors and nurses rushing you off to emergency surgeries, internal bleeding spiking, the postings of your x-rays displaying the slow progress of your broken bones. It had to have been so much for him, someone who is so caring and so willing to do anything for those in his circle. And he wasn’t able to do anything except sit beside you, hold your unmoving hand…

“I’m already broken, what could you possibly do, you think you’re really that strong?” You tried to smile, but he could see how worried you were, afraid to banter with him.

“I’m stronger ‘n you,” He brought your joined hands up to his lips and kissed your knuckles. “I’ve seen you struggle with a bag of flour how many times now?”

“That’s not fair! They’re bulky and awkward.” The smile that broke out across your lips was so bright, Frankie could feel his heart skip a beat in his chest. How could he have ever been the reason it dulled, intentional or otherwise. He mentally scolded himself for being so caught up in helping you the way he thought you needed and not the way you wanted. His friend’s words coming to the front of his mind.

“Point taken, hermosa.” He watched the way you perked up, complexion lightning and the giggle that bubbled from you made warmth bloom in his chest.

As you searched for the fallen washcloth, the movement jostled you, chest jiggling where it was exposed above the water and bubbles. Nipples perked in the shadows of the candles he had lit for the space after a mumbled comment about the overhead being too much for your eyes. He felt a different type of heat wash over him, his cock stirring half-heartedly in his boxer briefs.

“Okay, we can go back to you washing me now.” You held it out to him, but he ignored it in favor of swooping down and placing a kiss to your forehead, to your cheeks that were pulled up with more endearing giggles.

“Hey,” He pulled you closer to him, chest pressed to your warm back. No shirt had been put on, a whispered complaint about the fabric being itchy on your sensitive skin.

Your sleepy hum was the only response he got, not stirring at his quiet voice. Frankie buried his face in your hair, breathing in the scent of you deep into his lungs.

“Was thinkin”…” He pressed his lips behind your ear.

“Hmm?”

“I wanted to get Lex’s name.”

“What?” You stirred, confusion furrowing your brow. Taking a deep breath, sleep fogging your thoughts and making it hard to engage fully. The pull of your medication making it even more so. “Frankie, you’re not making any sense. Go to sleep.”

“As you wish, hermosa.” He pressed another kiss to the back of your neck, carefully tangling his legs with your own, hoping he wasn’t jostling you too much. But you didn’t huff or shift away, content in your sleeping state to let him get as close to you as he needed.

After what felt like far too long, the ebb and flow of your easy breath finally lulled him back to sleep, murmuring his love for you into your skin.

“Frankie!” Twirling in your spot in front of the coffee maker, you enthusiastically greeted the half-awake man as he entered the kitchen. It was mid-morning, the two of you having slept in a bit, stirring when Lex came into the downstairs room to ask after breakfast. You had both tried to rouse the snoring man to no avail.

You had tried to talk to her over pancakes, but she had shirked the more serious topics. You had let her talk on and on about the book she was reading, just having upped her level despite how much school she was missing. It was about jellyfish and she beamed when you showed her the blackwork piece you had on your calf.

She was far from her usual bubbly and energetic self, but she wasn’t completely shut down like Frankie had described directly following the shooting. You worried for her, truly. She was important to her and you promised her to make cupcakes later on if you could convince Frankie to run to the shop. She was in the backyard now, painting on the patio table, a sheet of protective canvas over the top of it.

“Uh…yes?” He was rubbing at his lower back, waiting for the icy hot patch he had just applied begin to work. He might need to ask for one of your pain pills but he didn’t want to take from your bottle.

“You wanna get a tattoo? Like for really real?”

He chuckled, sound deep in his chest, his voice huskier than usual as he tried to wake up. He had knocked out shortly after you, heated blanket covering you both in a makeshift nest of the blankets and pillows you needed to sleep comfortably while still healing.

“Yes, hersmosa, for really real.” The dimple in his right cheek caught the warm sunlight coming in through the window. Your heart fluttered in your chest and you felt shy again, like the man before you was too good to be true. You looked away, the sight of his tousled curls and his sweet brown eyes making you self-conscious.

“I was tryin’ to tell you last night, but someone fell asleep in their bath.”

Wide smile dimming sheepishly, you beckoned the man closer. His strong arms wrapped encased you, but he reached behind you and stole your mug from where you had just poured creamer into it. But when you didn’t move to wrap your arms around his waist, he paused.

“Pastel?”

“I-I’m fine.” You pressed your forehead to his chest, hiding away from him. His arms wrapped around you, hands cupping your hips and drawing soothing circles into the healed spots the hospital had inserted metallic pins. The only sound for a few beats was the chirping of birds out in the yard.

“You’re just….really, unbelievably handsome and I just…feel like,” You mumbled the rest of your sentence into his chest, pressing your face further into his shirt.

“You are everything,” Frankie’s chest heaved as he took a deep breath, letting it out to ruffle your hair where he places a kiss. “You are the most gorgeous woman, hermosa. I love you, I am so incredibly and absolutely in love with you. I’m lucky to have you in my life, you’ve helped me to feel more like myself than I ever have.”

You couldn’t help the small hiccup that bubbled up, his arms holding you tight.

A quick call to his mother to watch over Lex and Frankie was opening up the door to greet his mother. He helped to relieve her of the bags in her arms, saying she would make a few easy dinners to toss into the oven over the remainder of the week, to ease some of the day-to-day troubles. You moved to get up from the couch, laid up with Lex, an animated movie on the screen and two indulgent soda’s empty on the coffee table. But when you went to grip the handles of your walker, the woman clicked her tongue at you and waved you back down.

You settled back into the cushions, feeling reprimanded by the woman you had yet to officially meet.

“Sit, sit, I’ll come to you.”

Lex groaned out as you hit pause, wanting to be respectful. But at the look aimed at her from the woman, she sat up at attention much like you just had, an apologetic look overtaking her features.

“Mrs. Morales, it’s so nice to finally meet you.”

She ignored you both as she moved in a flurry around a nervous Frankie, ducking into the kitchen to get a water, a damp paper towel, and the small collection of your medications and basic medical supplies contained in a small storage box with a handle. She set herself on the coffee table in front of you, handing you the water, a silent command to drink. As you did, she pulled out the thermometer, trading you the empty glass for it. Popping it into your mouth, she looked you over as she wiped at your face with the damp cloth, brushing your loose hair back.

“Such beautiful color, natural?”

You hummed an affirmative, pulling the large cardigan you had thrown on closer, hesitant to let her see even a peek of the ink decorating your body. You weren’t sure how traditional she was, Frankie answering your questions honestly. He wasn’t sure how she would feel about them and it made you self-conscious.

When the thermometer beeped, she pulled it from your mouth to inspect.

“A bit high, why don’t we take this off and get some air on you, hmm?”

“Oh, um-“ She reached out to begin pulling the cardigan from you, but you jerked, seeking out Frankie at the front of the room.

“Mijo, don’t let those groceries go bad!” She waved her hand at him, spurring him into motion. While you watched him go, she carefully helped you remove the cardigan, not even batting an eye as the tank top underneath revealed the plants mirrored on your collarbones. She smiled at you, a gentle, comforting one. As if she could sense how nervous you were. “Oh-okay, whatever you think is best, Mrs. Mor-“

“Call me Isabella, we’ll be related soon enough, but you’re sweet to be so polite to an old lady like me.”

Turning in search of Frankie, your frantic eyes met his as he came back in from the kitchen. You thought he had talked it over with his parents beforehand. She gripped your hand in her two and gazed at the culprit of the secret you hadn’t known you’d been complacent in.

“This ring on your finger told me, mi amor, because you certainly haven’t yet.” Isabella pinned her son with a stern look.

“Mama, it just happened.” Frankie sheepishly rubbed at the back of his neck, knowing he had been found out in an omission of information. Having wanted to get things back on track with you a little before you told anyone.

“Just happened? You proposed the day she came home from the hospital. I know you, bebita.” Her gaze softened, only a teasing edge to it with the raise of an eyebrow.

“You’re gonna be my mom?!” Lex squealed; her small body suddenly pressed to you as she wrapped her arms around you.

“Alexia, calme, be careful with her. She’s still recovering.” Isabella wrangled the little girl off of you and settled her on the other side of the couch, with soft words and the offering of a few candies from her pocket. The movie was turned back on.

“Now, let me help you get dressed, what are you two getting up to today?” She held the walker steady with both her hands and ushered Frankie into motion. He came to stand beside you, hands helping to dig you out from the blanket that had fallen around your waist. His palms were warm around your upper arms as he grazed them close, allowing you to wrap your own around his shoulder to pull yourself up.

“We’re uh, actually going to get some errands done. Maybe some lunch, if you’re hungry, hermosa.”

His mother nodded at him, keeping close to you as she helped you down the hall.

The shop was beautiful. Flash sheets decorating the walls encased in simple frames, funky art mixed in, photos of the people who worked there. A comfortable looking curved couch and a few chairs filling the waiting space, a coffee table with art books and references, photos of pieces done on the premises.

“Hi, I was wondering if you had any time for a couple of walk ins?”

The man at the counter looked you up and down, gauging the seriousness of your question. His eyes moved to Frankie, slightly behind you as you were seated in a wheelchair. The image you created was attractive, complimentary. From Frankie’s worn in black denim, to his simple caramel sweater, aviators hung on his collar. To your simple sundress and hair up in a messy bun, majority of your tattoos on display. Skin kissed by the sun and the casual comfortability between you despite the slight nerves that could be sensed from the tall man guiding you forward.

“Depends on the ideas, but we can surely figure something out.”

You turned to look up at Frankie, gently encouraging him to tell the man about his idea. But he was nervous, unsure of sounding like an imposter when next to you. Smiling, you shifted back to face the counter.

“It’s his first time,” You carefully surged up, and Frankie rounded the chair to hover as you took slow steps up to it. “He’s just a little nervous, but weren’t we all?”

You could see the pink bloom on the tips of his ears when you teasingly winked at him.

“He would like some script, his daughter’s name. Where were you thinking of again, carino?”

“Uh,” He cleared his throat, hands ready to help support you at the slight sway of your body. “On my chest, left side.”

“How big?”

Frankie turned to you at the question, unsure of how to answer.

“No bigger than palm sized, but at least half an inch in height.”

“Gotcha, well…”

“Frankie.” He reached over the counter to shake the man’s hand in greeting.

“Well, Frankie. Any particular font?”

“I was thinking cursive, but nothing too fancy. Easy to read.”

“Okay, give me a few moments and I’ll talk to the artists. See who has the time.”

“Thank you so much.” Frankie looked around the space, taking everything in, his fingers nervously twitching at his side.

“It…doesn’t hurt right?”

“You ever get scratched by a cat?”

“Oh yeah, Rig didn’t like that I was late with his treats one afternoon. Stung like a bitch, but it didn’t really hurt.”

“It feels like that.”

Half an hour later, Frankie was shirtless and standing for the placement of his stencil. The words Alexia Sueno in blue on his left pectoral, right over his heart. The spot had been shaved bare, his bronze skin on display and glistening with the shine of the lotion to ensure it was moisturized enough.

“Placement okay for you?” The woman doing his piece asked, gloved hands holding the paper that helped apply it. He pivoted in his spot, eyes tracking the way it looked as he turned this way and that. “I can move it if you want, just want you to be happy with it.”

“No, no, it looks good!” He reassured, moving to sit in the chair she had set up while getting ready at her nod.

“Alright, now I’m sure you asked your girl how it feels and while it is different for everyone, just let me know if it’s uncomfortable or super unbearable, okay?” She scooted her own stool close, picking up her wrapped machine and clicked it on. She dipped the needles into the ink cap, rubbing more lotion into his skin. “Just keep your breath steady. Ready?”

“Ready.” Frankie nodded as he tightened his hold on your hand, wheelchair pulled up as close as the artist allowed on his right side. The needle kissed his skin, the hum deepening in pitch.

Fresh ink shining, Frankie winced when a dry paper towel was rubbed over it to clean off the excess. The man from the counter walked into the room, brandishing his personal device at you.

“Did a few small doodles, any of ‘em look good to you?”

He turned the device around, displaying simple, clean lines. There were four different depictions of a helicopter. Frankie’s hand tightened around yours, having looked up curiously from watching his own artist busy going over the script once more.

With Frankie’s piece done, second skin applied over it and his sweater back on, it was now your turn.

You were seated in your wheelchair still, but your left arm was stretched out over a cushioned and saran wrapped stand. The small empty spot just above your elbow had a stencil ready and waiting.

The hum of the gun was loud but comforting. At the first touch of the artist applying the lubricant over the stencil was like a welcome home, the needle positioned just over it.

“Ready?”

“Ready.” You chirped.

The needle kissed your skin and all your worries melted away.

You thought you spied a familiar head of steel curls over a broad back in the crowd meandering past the restaurant’s outdoor patio and you called out. Frankie startled slightly, attention on the menu in his hands. He looked up to see you frowning, eyes narrowed as you tried to focus on someone in the crowd, a hand over your eyes to block some of the sun.

Sighing, you plopped back down into your seat fully, having stood halfway to call out.

“I’m pretty sure Pope just ignored me.” You huffed, grumpily twirling the straw in your water to face you and took a sip.

“He probably didn’t hear you, you know we all have pretty damaged hearing.”

“But he can hear the sound of Will’s silent phone on group nights to tease him over Luciana?”

Frankie just chuckled at your annoyance, loving the expression in wake of everything. It was adorable, the was your brows furrowed and your glasses slid down your face as you grumbled to yourself, looking over the menu.

Across town, Pope sighed in relief, knowing that if the bags in his hands had been spotted, it would’ve been a dead giveaway. He rushed across the packed lot he had left his truck in, the downtown area too unpredictable at the most random of times. But he had wanted to talk to the owner of the space specifically, knowing it would be a better sell in person. For them to allow him to rent the space for a night…

Frankie had just closed the door behind you both, bags in one hand and leftovers from the restaurant in the other when a knock sounded. He carefully set everything down on the coffee table, making sure you were comfortable on the couch before turning his attention to the door. A man in a sharp suit was on the other side, a large envelope in his grip.

“Mr. Morales?” He had a thick drawl, his words curling as he spoke. But it was anything but warm, his tone was

“Yes, how can I help you?” Your attention was pulled to the appearance of Frankie’s mother coming down the stairs, a full laundry basket in her hands. But your head swung back to the door at the man’s next words.

“You’ve been served.”

previous chapter || next chapter

dividers: lovely @saradika-graphics

taglist: @tanzthompson @clevergirl74 @sullyosully @bitchwitch1981 @anoverwhelmingdin @jessthebaker @peppermintfury @for-a-longlongtime @peppermintfury @tuquoquebrute @readingiskeepingmegoing @christinamadsen @heareball @soft-persephone @vivian-pascal

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blueicequeen19 · 2 years

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me again lmao 🙈

what about a fic where y/n, JJ and Rafe all decide to fuck randomly in the country club? just like.. super public (maybe some ppl watching) and maybe they don't stop until they get thrown out?

I'm sorry this is so filthy 🙈

*Night of Midsummers*

“I can’t wait. I need you now. Right fucking now.” Rafe panted, unzipping my dress and letting it fall to the floor in the locker room.

“Oh, Rafe.” I cling to him in just my thong and heels, his hands caressing every inch of my body as we make out.

“Getting started without me, I see.” I look up to see JJ loosen his bow tie with a smug grin, his eyes eating me up.

“Please, I need you both.” I wave him on, fire in my blood as JJ presses against my back with Rafe at my front. I get lost in the frenzy of their kisses, my hands tugging on each of their cocks that have been freed from their dress pants.

“Anyone could walk in.” Rafe whispers against my cheek and I capture his lips in a kiss.

“I don’t care. Let them watch me get railed by the two hottest guys on the island.” I smile against Rafe’s lip as a needy moan leaves his lips.

“How do you want us, greedy girl?” JJ asks, two fingers circling my ass as Rafe devours my neck.

“Lay down on your back on the bench.” I instruct Rafe, knowing how JJ is an ass guy. I turn to face JJ as Rafe strips and obeys.

“You wanna fuck my ass, baby?” I purr, kissing him hard as I fist his cock. He groans, palming my ass with his large hands.

“I wanna fuck it and fill it up, my Queen. Whatever she wants.” I bat my lashes at him, kissing him hungrily one more time before I straddle Rafe on the bench. I’m so wet that Rafe slides in with very little resistance, bottoming out so sweetly inside me.

“Goddamn, girl. This pussy is fire.” Rafe pants, tugging me down on to his chest with a firm grip on the back of my neck. I roll my hips, feeling him everywhere as we wait for JJ. I hear JJ spit and then two fingers are prepping me for him, stretching me out. I hiss against the burn but rock back against him anyway. I was already on the edge of an orgasm.

“Good girl. Such a good girl for us.” JJ praises, replacing his fingers with his cock. I gasp, trying to force myself to relax as he penetrates me torturously slow. We’re all panting by the time he bottoms out, his hands coming up to rest on my shoulder.

“Fuck me, please. I’m so full.” I plead and JJ obediently slams in first. I cry out as Rafe thrusts up next. They quickly get a hard and fast rhythm going, fucking me until my eyes roll back and my toes curl. Suddenly, JJ yanks me up against his chest, cupping my throat as he continues to fuck my ass.

“You don’t mind an audience do you, baby?” JJ turns my head and I spot a handful of Rafe’s Kook buddies, lingering around the lockers, just watching us. I didn’t have to look too close to see that they were all painfully hard in their slacks.

“No. Let them watch. It’s all they’ll ever get.” I turn my head, kissing JJ like he’s my air to breathe.

“You’re going to get us kicked out of here.” Rafe pants, his fingers digging into my hips.

“Let them try. My family will own this club by morning.” I smirk, just as Rafe yanks me back down for a kiss.

#jj maybank smut #jj maybank fic #jj maybank imagine #smutwarning #jj obx #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x you #obx2 #rudy pankow #wattpad #rafe outer banks #rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #drew starkey

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threestripeslider · 1 year

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The peepaw multiverse is so funny to me because like, how did this happen? Why are they all together? Why is their immediate answer to everything to either band together to protect thier children using thier collective skills and battle strategies or just to simply Cain instinct the hell out of it? Most importantly, why do Leonardo and Leon constantly attempt to kill each other? What provokes them so much about each other than any of the others? I have so many questions and not enough answers

oh boy is it already time for a history lesson SKJDJKDHFKJ–

OKAY! let’s see if i get this right – disclaimer; i am pretty sure i got the whole thing rolling but i am obviously not the sole contributor or uhh idk. the CEO of the Peepaw Multiverse? whatever, i dont hold a monopoly over it KJDBKDHB.

so. obviously a bunch of F!Leo fics started popping up and everyone was just doing their own thing. as i wrote odd man out, i was partially inspired by MNMC – Mutant Ninja Midlife Crisis through which i met CJ. we get to talking and basically just kind of pick each other’s brains a lot when it came to our fics lmao so we started joking about the differences and similarities between Leonardo (OMO) and Leon (MNMC) to which i started making silly little doodles bc those two should actually never meet; they would make each other worse (or better), they are Worsties, they are Besties etc etc etc

anyway. i start posting these doodles just to be a little clown and ppl kind of picked up on it – artists who are fans of either or both fics started contributing to the fun. obviously not all iterations are super accurate, which is pretty fine since honestly? the Peepaw Multiverse is just a fun little separate thing as a kind of reprieve from the emotions the fics might give you LMAO yknow, just kind of a breather.

now, honestly, we have no idea why our Peepaws are the way they are together but idk what do you actually expect from a bunch of traumatized middle-aged men who are suddenly in charge of way too many kids and are now meeting several other version of themselves. in my mind, i think they all just loosen up a lot when it’s just them – without trying to put up a front for the kids, they just. idk. they all just become a lil unhinged i guess LMAO some just want their peace & quiet bc god knows if they can ever get it in a house full of teenagers at their height of puberty, some just want to hang out with guys who actually understand what’s bothering them. they could do group therapy or, yknow, make each other worse, idk you choose i guess, whichever is more entertaining RIP.

as to Leonardo and Leon specifically...in short; Leonardo is annoying with his Fake Smiley Bastard attitude doing the whole Conceal, Don’t Feel bit, so Leon just kind of tolerates him. unfortunately Leonardo kind of just never leaves and starts to grown on Leon like mold HJASDJHB all in all they have a very Cain Instinct-induced friendship in which Leon would sell Leonardo to Satan for one corn chip, but also if anyone other than him bullies Leonardo, Leon will kill you probably.

#turtle files: ask #peepaw multiverse #this is the best i can come up with rn KJSBDKJBJFK #im supposed to be writing something for school help

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random4townheadcanons · 1 year

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Most people are intimidated by Z at first because of his height and his rbf —

but he’s just a gentle giant who’s shy around ppl sometimes

When all of the members met for the first time,

They all thought Z hated them because he was so quiet and his face always looked so unamused. He’s always been really shy around people he doesn’t know very well so he didn’t know how to talk to them at first. T approached him and immediately got him to loosen up and let his walls down. They compared their freckles and bonded over their shared name, and the other members were surprised to see Z laugh and smile and actually talk. T’s sense of humor and compassion made Z pretty much instantly become attached to him because he felt like he finally found someone he was comfortable with and could be himself around without being judged. He didn’t have a lot of friends in high school and just assumed it would stay that way because something was wrong with him. T had a similar high school experience because even though he has a very magnetic personality, he is surprisingly not even close to as extroverted as people assume he would be and he didn’t really like the people he went to school with. The other members felt bad for assuming that Z was cold and unfriendly because they realized that he just had social anxiety and needed good friends. T and Z became inseparable and Z’s aloof facade melted away to reveal that he’s actually just a big teddy bear who was in need of hugs and people who appreciated him. The other members felt like they were witnessing some kind of magic because T and Z had become joined at the hip within a couple days. Z became more close to Robaire, Jesse, and Tae a few days later. Z also realized that he had found people he could be vulnerable in front of without getting embarrassed, and even in the times that he didn’t feel comfortable being emotional around the other members, he never felt embarrassed talking about personal things, crying, or being sensitive in front of T which was something he hadn’t experienced with anyone he’d ever met before. He never had anticipated that he would meet people who loved him and cared about him as much as they all did, and everything about himself that he was insecure about and tried to hide no longer made him feel embarrassed or judged. Z didn’t think there would ever be anyone who would love him unconditionally or that he’d be able to have a best friend who never judged him or made fun of him when he was sad, scared, upset, or when he sometimes needed someone who would share their bed with him when he couldn’t fall asleep.

Z is pretty much the opposite of the person fans perceive him as.

This was sickeningly mushy and over the top but I hope you liked it :)

KEEP SENDING TONS OF REQUESTS PLS!!

#4town #4*town #4 town #4town headcanons #4town aaron z #4town aaron t #4town robaire #4town jesse #4town taeyoung

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uhnomahlee · 2 years

Text

equating/surpassing ackerman strength // aot headcanon

agender!mikasa x black plus-size gnc reader (oc name: uhuru)

includes - fluff, ruff tuff gay besties, strongest ppl in humanity or whatever, mikasa loves getting tossed, overprotective lesbians

{mdni/f}

a/n - yes hange is not the only canon trans person…these niggas don’t scream binary to me so🦥oc’s name actually means freedom in swahili🫠i get carried away at some parts ahehe whoops rlly could a made this a whole fic🤞🏿perhaps. enjoy :3

uhuru was a secret admirer. they admired mikasa’s strength, determination, and stature. and how they loved to do so

they didn’t know when the admiration trickled into fondness

maybe when they always seemed to find theirself standing close to them, glances to get a look at their expression

could’ve been the many times they murmured an obscene rebuttal to a higher-up’s command, earning a low chuckle from mikasa

uhuru’s main love language growing up the way they did in the forest away from the kingdom centered around protection. they always kept track of their loved ones, making sure everyone and everything was accounted for.

they weren't sure what attached them to mikasa but they were attracted as soon as they entered the camp and came upon the serene individual

mikasa’s interest predated their physical meeting.

of course the moment uhuru passed through the wall entrance their identity was relayed across the grounds. they had spent some time staying at inns before arriving at the survey corps training camp

one story had sold mikasa’s anticipation for their arrival.

before arriving at the camp, uhuru’s presence at the inn was known making them a prey for those thinking they were an easy target. just a weary traveler.

growing up in the rural areas of paradis was more chaotic than life inside the walls could be. at a young age, uhuru would mimick the fighters and hunters of the group picking up their agility and strength as a adolescent.

following an expedition around their living area uhuru came upon pieces of the titan ore near their clan’s camp and shaped them to their liking.

a dagger and a set of claws attached to the finger tips by a mechanism derived from the knowledge their elders brought from their homeland

that night when uhuru was returning from getting dinner, a couple of theives thinking they were quiet began following them

they had already noticed them before they left the inn and before entering the restaurant

claw and dagger hidden under their cloak, they turned and let their hood fall, freshly shaven head covered with their chosen tattoo visible under the moonlight

uhuru’s black eyes glared at the five individuals, demeanor emanating murderous intent. loosening their body, they launched theirself at a speed that stunned the attackers, their weapons digging into and slicing at their lower limbs and making them immobile

witnesses said it was supernatural. as if uhuru had enchanted the men. one minute the offenders were standing and the next second their wails of pain and blood covered the sidewalk.

mikasa heard the story among their group of friends, finally checking into the conversation. they tried to sneak in a question, hoping to join the discussion easily.

suspicions rose immediately

armin kept the knowledge of the premature affection to himself while eren risked his life to begin teasing his sister

the day of uhuru’s arrival, their presentation shocked the members of the survey corp

mikasa was excited. everything about uhuru’s demeanor attracted them immensely, their front row position granting them the closest view

with the sun just rising, a golden hue emanated, caressing uhuru’s mahogany skin

shaven brows and head with tattoos decorating their scalp and nape. dark eyes that pierced through every individual they fell on. broad body, matching the protruding thickness that pressed against the fabric worn

introducing theirself, uhuru’s voice tumbled from their lips deep and smooth

whispering their name to theirself, mikasa let a small smile stretch across their face

uhuru’s gaze darted to mikasa, trained ears catching the murmur

the instant their eyes met, that was it

their approach for each other was similar—subtle and calculated opposing the emotional turmoil

“because everyone’s scared of them, that why’s they’re sitting alone,” ymir answered mikasa’s question, munching on a boiled carrot from the steaming bowl of soup.

“also their weapons weren’t exactly practical. a bystander said they were made from the same substance as a titan’s hardening,” jean added. “how the hell is that possible? clean up of eren’s seal was closely watched and this is their first time in the wall.”

armin interjected, “we actually don't know if there are more places like the underground chapel or the city beyond wall sina. their garments show they’re from the forest but the presence of their people would have been known if-”

mikasa stood up from the table hands gripping their bowl and plate of bread, walking away from their

“mikasa?” eren called out, brows furrowed until he saw them going in the direction of uhuru. “oh”

sitting in front of them, mikasa mumbled a greeting before ripping a piece from their bread and popping it into their mouth

uhuru cocked their head studying the person in front of them.

mikasa didn’t meet their eyes but the essence of fear was void unlike the people at the other end of the table, attempting to converse in hushed voices

“hello, mikasa”

the spoon in their hand bent under pressure as their name slipped from uhuru’s lips

slowly, they opened up to each other, relaying their interests back and forth highlighting their favorite--fighting

the first sparring session was one for the books

rotations were going every four minutes with two and half minute break intervals in between.

by the time rotations were up, an uneven count of members were matched letting uhuru and mikasa meet for the first time since they joined months ago

“i know you hold back on your attacks,” uhuru got in their signature lowered starting position, muscles relaxing

“a lot of our teammates would have been murdered” mikasa responded, brushing a piece of their hair away from their face, bending their knees as they entered a defensive position

uhuru chuckled. “don’t pull that shit with me, mikasa”

their right fist came flying at mikasa’s torso, coming in faster than mikasa could expect

however mikasa was still able to dodge the hit, knocking the attack in another direction with a circular motion of their forearm against uhuru’s

with the effort it took to block their first incursion, mikasa nearly missed the immediate rebound of uhuru’s heel coming at their face

mikasa grunted as they dodged the kick, uhuru’s other foot fanning upwards and connecting with their partner’s chin, the momentum pushing them out of the back walkover

“what type of fighting style is that?” sasha whispered to the group, “it looks like uhuru has a dance routine goin’ on”

“it’s like a nonstop attack,” hange marveled

“look at uhuru’s body,” ymir pointed out, “compared to mikasa’s it has more flexibility. the attacks lead into the next with ease but each one is coming in hard.”

the session ended with uhuru’s victory, mikasa’s body slamming onto the floor with a thud

pain aside mikasa would take the loss over and over again

leading into uhuru’s first expedition months following their graduation, their relationship with mikasa only grew closer

mikasa didn’t stray far from uhuru, keeping an eye on their surroundings as well as their best friend riding their horse through the forest in front of them

admiring their broad shoulders for a sliver of a second, mikasa refocused theirself when something caught uhuru’s attention making them call out to to get everyone’s attention

while the team altered the formation they were in, uhuru called out two other titans in the distance from the opposite side

the sudden accumulation of the creatures caught up with the team quick, their horses continuing along the trail while they switched transportation to their odm gear

mikasa looked away for a moment to track the movement of titans behind them, releasing the hook from the trunk of a tree to land on one of its branches

“uhuru!” mikasa called out, ignoring the three titans clawing at the base of the tree

jaw clenching, their breathing became heavy, eyes flitting around the area to check if there was a body to be found

their chest tightened, a cold sweat racking their body

yelling out their name again, their voice cracked, vision blurring with acute rage

looking down at the titans trying to reach for them, mikasa fingers tightened around their hand grip, curses falling from their quivering lips

mikasa’s hyperfocused descent towards the titans, blocked out the abnormal appearing in their blind spot leaping with an open mouth in preparation to eat them mid-fall

the wind from the attack diverted mikasa’s attention from the titans they were getting ready to attack, repositioning theirself to fend them all off

finally tracking down the stray titan, uhuru recognized the short black tresses, eyes widening as they saw the abnormal closing in on them

uhuru redirected their odm to aim for the titan, hooks sinking into the skin before their swords punctured and ripped through the nape of the abnormal, planting a foot on its back in order to assist their motion of sending its body towards the other titans knocking two down.

mikasa, overwhelmed, only stared at uhuru, their fall continuing.

grabbing their torso, uhuru launched their right hook to another tree, ascending to a safe height

“you’re an idiot,” uhuru huffed, panting as they set mikasa down. “I cannot believe you.”

“where were you” was mikasa’s rebuttal

letting out a heavy breath, uhuru gestured towards the steaming abnormal. “while we were chasing down the titans we found, this one was on its way behind us as well.”

“and you went for it alone? but i’m the idiot…okay” mikasa downturned their lips. “don’t disappear like that again, uhuru.”

the hoarseness in their voice made uhuru’s brows furrow

“hey mikasa, it’s okay. i’m right here. i….i won’t leave you.” uhuru rested a firm hand on their shoulder, their chest getting tight

mikasa looked away. losing someone came too easy. they prepared theirself for death every second of every day but their emotional threshold would already be met by the time any mission started making impulsivity sit at the forefront

“just…don’t leave me like that again.” mikasa lifted their hand, positioning it over uhuru’s

“i would never.”

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bingobongobonko · 1 year

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Hassan + Yves:🍇🍑🍰🍹🍔🍟

Sitting in front of you so normally with a vice grip on your shoulders.....Hi!!!!!

For purpose of this ask, gonna be referring to DND Hassan :)

🍇: What sort of friend are they? Where are they in the group dynamic?

Hassan: unsure... hard to say. hassan really aint one to have long-lasting friendships, not outta choice but the fact that his friends usually dont stick around. but in a group he's usually the voice of reason but if that voice of reason could be easily swayed into being an accomplice. like yk the kid from the magical school bus thats like can we PLEASE have a normal field trip..... thats him. thats hassan de ruyter. he's so unsure about everything but he'll tag along cuz he dont got no one else. despite this and his fear of everybody he can honestly be a genuine and kind guy 2 hang with..... just a little bit tired 24/7 and easily exasperated but for the most part it really dont change the fact that he cares about people a LOT. he will sit with you after a very long day and reminisce the past and hope for the future. even if he cant assure himself, he'll sure as hell assure you.

Yves: PETTY ASSHOLE... you wouldnt be even sure if you WERE friends cuz its hard to tell if he likes you or not. cuz he can act like he tolerates you and then talk about you behind your back like its nothing. dreamy sigh... he starts problems with people on purpose... hes THAT guy yk. very petty, very judgemental, but not very secretive about it. he's abrasive and a drama queen but its ok hes silly about it..

🍑: What sort of traits does your OC look for in a Significant Other?

Hassan: same sorta approach he has for friendships: He doesn't. he's never dated, more or less because he doesn't feel like he COULD be dated. however... think his brain flares up for dominant women. women who can carry him bridal style... heeeeeeeeey... not exclusive to women though. but besides that, honestly someone who he can chill with and do fuckall. and probably as introverted out as he is.

Yves: someone who can loosen up and be silaaaay and have fun!!!! he goes out a lot, so having someone who can keep up with him is a good thing!! ofc thats less important. frankly someone who's willing to scratch his back and he'll do the same, mutually beneficial relationship.

🍰: What's something your OC counts as unforgivable?

Hassan: you can do whatever you want, but instigating shit with betsy, you are LITERALLY on his shitlist. thats the only thing in this world he cares about, that and his goat. you cant hurt his animals and get away with it, you are forever hated.

Yves: ripping him away from control, or making him feel like he's not in control. that's probably the biggest part of him. a need to be in control of everything and everyone - including himself. so taking away that choice, no matter how harmful or questionable his choice is, youre basically threatening his entire self worth since his entire persona is built on control and power.

🍹: Does your OC have any funny anecdotes told about them?

Hassan: saedboy... nawt really.. he can be a really HONESTLY funny fucking guy, even if on accident cuz of how he interacts with people, and being a scaredy cat, but no one really knows him long enough for any anecdotes to be made.

Yves: him and elias went out for a night in the city, originally intending to get parts for his mech, but something happened and i dont even know what happened, but they woke up in elias's apartment with half of their face temporarily paralyzed and also ppl on the omninet were calling yves and elias Mistresses. i dont know what happened. i dont know what happened.

🍔: Are there any recent trends you think your OC would hate? Or love?

Hassan: 😭 i dont know any IN trends rn... but i know he'd love the barbie movie i just know he'd gather all of his friends and beg them to watch barbie with him..... he's very fucking passionate about the shit he likes and hes not a pushy guy but he WILL beg on his knees.

Yves: i hate 2 say it... but this is just yves, thats just who he is. he'd HATE the re-emergence of unions.... he's those dudes on twitter who complain abt how no one wants to work these days and like. if youre living on minimum wage then save money and get another job. and then he goes offline and takes wages by being a landlord. do you understand. he's so fucking out of touch and tone deaf.

🍟: What does your OC admit to be their guilty pleasure? What actually is their guilty pleasure?

Hassan: if you'd ask him, *probably* sleeping in. he'll take any inch of sleep he can get, even if its 2 days in a row. that is actually his guilty pleasure. he would not move for anything if he had the choice.

Yves: if asked, he'd probably be like... :) my guilty pleasure is icecream or something super innocuous like that. but its actually making people angry at him and setting shit on fire.

🍩: What's a crime your OC is most likely to commit? What's a crime they're most likely to get arrested for?

Hassan: bit sad but public intoxication... tbh... he does. that a lot. its how he gets himself in deep shit cuz he's a lot more cocky and loud when he's drunk, compared to a sober him that's just anxious and soft spoken. he'd honestly get arrested for being just fucking insanely drunk and doing some stupid shit.

Yves: i cant even answer this question properly bc. he HAS committed crimes, war crimes. actual war criminal. not using the word as a throwabout, thats actually something he's done + tried to do again on more than one occasion. but he'd prolly get arrested for espionage lol

#thank you for the ask..... these guys haunt me....

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shallowrambles · 1 year

Text

I'm so bothered by the fetishization of twins and triplets, actually. If I could erase anything, it'd be the flippant references to this. :(

To be clear, I'm not pro-purity culture. I just- this one stings and I have to literally curate my experience so hard because of it

I can't stand when it's used as "code" for "queer experience" either because it's just positioning queer as "unnatural / evil," and that bothers the heck outta me when they're equated. Inappropriate boundary crossing, grooming, and abuse =/= insta-queer. It's like HMMM. The way ppl stan the crowley hookup when it's a shows canon incest kink interest squicks the fuck outta me and like...the whole Demon!Dean is a study in disinhibition! Disinhibition was shown as very evil / shameful / uncomfortable experience for Dean, like, the entirety of season 10...Sam even tries to comfort him about it. But because Crowley-Dean supports those sides of Dean ppl want in their ships, they overlook that aspect of it.

There's also the American-ness of howling at the moon and total "I do what I WANT" as being a good thing, when it's clearly shown as...not. There's gotta be balance, man.

Reduced inhibition is OFTEN used as circumvention of consent, as Dean recounts in his John-and-the-bar story. And disinhibitions are ofc not always a reflection of true self. I'm thinking of a neuro unit, where an injured TBI survivor hits on his granddaughter. Is that his "true personality?" Of course not! It's a loss of free will, judgment, and choice due to the injury and/or disinhibition.

And this is a show about free will, after all.

Drinking and drugging tend to ‘loosen you up’ by reducing inhibitions. But they remove your judgment and CHOICE about things, too. That's not necessarily free will. Reduced inhibitions can be enjoyable, but they can also create risks and dangers. Our inhibitions serve to keep us acting within an acceptable threshold; reducing these inhibitions can push you past the threshold.

Drug addiction is sometimes potrayed as "freeing" but ofc that isn't the complete story. Even so, the show doesn't agree that the punishment fits the crime. Like Crowley, Randy is complex, and he has real feelings and emotions for his relationships!

I feel like the Claire episode puts this in full display:

///

10x09

DEAN: All right, so I get there. I sneak in, and it is nuts. I mean, people are drinking and they’re smoking and they’re—they’re snorting whatever. There’s a five-hundred pound guy on stage with a Mohawk just screaming. And, uh, my mind is blown. I don’t even know what to do. Then this girls walks up and she says “Hey, why don’t you come over and sit down with me and my friends at our table?” All right!

SAM: Yeah, and they get him drunk. First time.

DEAN: But not fun drunk. I’m not quite sure what was in that stuff, but the room starts to spin, and I feel like I’m going to puke … forever. And right about that time, I hear him. “Dean Winchester!”

[Cas looks confused, but Sam just smiles.]

DEAN: My old man. I don’t know how, but he found me. And now I’m really freaking out, because he’s just standing there, not saying anything. I look around, and everybody else is freaking out, too. In fact, nobody’s even looking him in the eye. And finally, this one guy with, like, a safety pin through his nose and a—a “Kill Everything” tattoo looks up and he says, “Sorry, sir.”

---

[Claire is sitting on a bed by herself when she hears footsteps. The door opens, and Salinger is standing there. He motions for his men to leave, and he turns to Claire.]

SALINGER: Hi. [He finishes off his beer, then turns and locks the door.] It’s Claire, right?

[She won’t look at him, until he’s standing in front of her. He reaches down, taking hold of her chin, making her look up at him.]

You really are a pretty one, you know that?

[She lifts her leg, kneeing him in the groin. She runs to the door and tries to unlock it, but Salinger is right behind her, grabbing her as she screams.]

[One of Salinger’s men opens the front door to find Cas, Sam, and Dean standing there. Cas lifts a hand, and the man goes flying backwards.

CASTIEL:

Where’s the girl?

[They hear screaming come from upstairs. In the room, Claire is screaming, trying to fight Salinger off. He’s trying to hold her down, and the door flies open. Castiel is standing there, and Salinger turns to look at him, giving Claire enough of an opening to kick Salinger in the face and get up. She kicks him, over and over again.]

CASTIEL: Claire. Claire!

[Castiel grabs her arm, and she finally stops kicking. Cas leads her from the room. They walk downstairs, and Claire moves away from Cas.]

[Claire climbs into the back seat of the Impala, and Castiel sits beside her. Claire smiles.]

CASTIEL: Are you okay?

CLAIRE: Yeah.

[She moves over, laying her head on Castiel’s chest, wrapping her arms around him. Cas hugs her back. Sam climbs in the front seat and glances back. He turns his head back towards the house as he hears shouting, then leaves the car as fast as he can.]

///

10x10

(Scene changes to Castiel pacing in the bunker library.)

CASTIEL: She barely speaks to me.

(Sam comes into view, sitting.)

CASTIEL: She’s like a wounded animal, just watching me.

SAM: Look, Cas, you know what? You really tried to do the right thing that night. You did. This guy Claire was hanging out with, Randy, all he did was use her.

CASTIEL: Well, she thought he was kind. And for that, she loved him. Shows how little kindness there was in her life. You know, whatever Randy did, he didn’t deserve –

SAM: No, yeah, I know, I know. I hear you. Dean has had to kill before. We both have. But that was –

DEAN: That was what?

(Sam rises, surprised. Dean walks in from the war room.)

SAM: Dean.

DEAN: That was a massacre. That’s what it was. (Dean looks from Sam to Cas.)

DEAN: There was a time I was a hunter, not a stone-cold killer?

(Cas and Sam look troubled.)

DEAN: You can say it. You’re not wrong. I crossed the line. Guys, this thing’s gotta go.

(Dean looks down at the Mark of Cain on his arm.)

///

And 10x22

MR. McKINLEY: By suggesting my daughter was a slut?

DEAN: I'll admit that thought crossed my mind. Then I came here, and I smelled the deceit and the beatings and the shame that pervade this home.

MR. McKINLEY: You shut your face right now.

DEAN: And you know what? I don't blame Rose anymore. No wonder she put on that skank outfit and went out there looking for validation, right into the arms of the monster that killed her. (Dean looks at Mr. McKinley and in a very calm voice says) Joe, who did this?

#tw incest #ah the villainous incest trope #i'm so TIRED sometimes #like it's incest it's literally the fetishization of incest #usually it's written off as NOT COUNTING when it's women #and it's lifted up as heroic proof of queerness when it's men and i #I LIKE difficult topics #but demon dean is not portrayed positively #there's a balance between inhibitions and disinhibitions #like when your grandad gets a front lobe injury and comes on to you #that's not indicative that he secretly wants you it's JUST disinhibition which taken too far can BE THE REMOVAL of free will

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adoringhaikyuu · 3 years

Note

hello!! i have a bit of a request! could i get oikawa bokuto and kuroo w a s/o who absolutely loves to cook and bake and does so a lot, but always always always shares the food they make? n they kinda slowed down in making food bc ppl arent accepting or wanting the food they make and its making them really down :(

ive been having this issue w my roommates bc i always cook for them w lots of love and they never eat what i make and its,, draining on me,,,,

but yea!! i just want oikawa bokuto n kuroo to make me feel a lil better :( thank u so so so much!!!! i love ur blog n ur writing so much 🖤

THEY AREN'T EATING YOUR FOOD SO YOU STOP COOKING FOR THEM

CHARACTERS: bokuto + kuroo + oikawa + (gn!reader)

WARNINGS: none

NOTES: i hope everything is ok and if not i hope it gets better!! <3 + i tried to make these a little happier ! they all take place over a week + i tried a new format with this we'll see if i stick w it sfkjhg

bokuto:

bokuto honestly didn't not want to eat your food

it's just that he had to go on a new diet for the upcoming season, his trainer and nutritionist told him to try it out to see how it works with him

and the things you cooked and baked were on the no eating list

he just loved when you made food for him, it tasted amazing and he could feel the love you put into it

he was planning on waiting the diet out and stockpiling all the food you made for afterwards as a treat

but he may or may not have failed to tell you that

so when you noticed he wasn't eating the food you left for him when he came home late after practice, you were disheartened and not to be dramatic, but heartbroken as well

deciding not to waste anymore, you simply stopped

turns out, the diet wasn't really working with bokuto, his nutritionist decided it was unecessary since he was getting the same results when he wasn't on it––thanks to his genetics, metabolism and workout routine. if anything he was glad, he was beyond excited to come home and finally eat your cooking again.

he practically ran home with a skip in his step, shouting out cheerfully as soon as he stepped past the front door. "baby i'm home!" he put his things down and took his shoes off, before gliding in front of the fridge to open it. "what's for dinner?––" he trailed off when he noticed there was nothing cooking, maybe you were starting later? he looked through the shelves in the fridge, looking for something to snack on in the mean time and gasped abruptly when he couldn't find the containers of food he'd been saving over the past week.

he closed the doors and frantically looked around the kitchen, opening random cupboards that couldn't possibly keep any refrigerated food fresh.

you walked in to find him searching around like a madman and you paused. "kou? what's wrong?"

he looked up at the sound of your voice and ran over to you, placing his hands on your waist. he kissed your forehead to say hello, despite the pout on his face and the clearly pressing matter on his mind. "hi baby doll. i was looking for all the food that was in the fridge, did you move them?"

you paused, "well i––i threw them out?"

his eyes almost bulged out of his head, "what?! why??"

you were confused by his sudden outburst, it's not like he was eating any of it. "i mean you weren't eating, kou...it's been a week since you've stopped eating my food, i just didn't see the point in keeping it all in there...that's also why i'm not making dinner right now."

he stared at you, shocked and disappointed in himself, he had no idea you were feeling this upset. "oh my god...did i forget to tell you?" your brows furrowed curiously but he simply pulled you into his arms for a tight hug. "i'm so sorry bub––they wanted me to try out this new diet, that's why i wasn't eating! i didn't mean to make you upset! i was even planning on eating all of the dinners i missed afterwards...but the diet wasn't for me so i can go back to eating normally now!"

you pulled back slightly to look at him, not knowing what to say. "oh..."

he gave you a sad smile, "yeah," he brought a hand up to hold your cheek, "you know i love your food––it honestly hurt my heart when they told me i couldn't eat it!"

you cracked a smile and he gave you one right back, "i'm serious!"

you sighed happily, "okay...so i guess i should start making dinner then?––"

he was pulling you over to the fridge before you could finish your sentence, "absolutely! and i'm helping!"

you laughed and started getting the ingredients together, "how about i make your favorite tonight?"

he nodded like a child excited for ice cream and kissed you on the cheek. he wasn't really a chef himself, that's why he left it to you––he didn't want to burn down the kitchen. so he'd mostly be staying by your side, maybe handing you things or mixing things, but you enjoyed his company nonetheless.

you had started seasoning the food when he slid his arms around you from behind, leaning down to rest his head on your shoulder. "hey baby?" you hummed in response and his hold on you tightened a bit. "would you...mind making my favorite dessert tonight too? i've been craving it for a while now..."

you smiled to yourself and nodded, "i'd love to."

he squeezed you and kissed your cheek loudly, "yes! thank you i love you so much!–"

kuroo:

almost every day you sent kuroo off to work with a baked good you made him

he loved them and you loved making them so it was a win-win

you'd put them in a little container with a cute note

and though he knew what to expect each time, they never failed to brighten his day

but earlier this week you stopped by kuroo's office to drop off the treat he'd forgotten to take with him today in his rush out the door

he was in a meeting so his assistant let you into his office

and you felt an ache in your chest when you noticed four of the treats you'd given him this past week all on his desk, unopened

that day, you went back home with all the uneaten sweets and unshed tears aching to fall from your eyes

did he just take them to please you? did he not really want them this whole time? was he just trying to be a good husband?

all these questions flooded your mind, only confusing and hurting you further

but one thing was for certain, you'd stop baking them for him

it didn't make sense for you to if you knew it'd be going to waste

kuroo was beyond done with his day and it wasn't even halfway over. he sighed, loosening his tie as he shut the door to his office, drained from the two hour meeting he'd been in.

thankfully, he had no more meetings today so he could sit and relax while he worked in his office. he sat down at his desk and shut his eyes for a moment, needing to calm down and regenerate himself. he reached over to his left blindly, knowing he'd left the treats you baked him there––things had been getting so hectic lately, he barely had time to eat them, but he was saving them for when he did have the time.

his hand smacked down on the desk three times as he tried to reach for the containers before he finally opened his eyes. his brows furrowed slightly, "what the..." he looked around the desk, opening the drawers and everything before giving up and calling his assistant in.

she knocked on the door and he signaled for her to come in.

"yes sir?"

"hi, do you know where the sweets i had on my desk are? i thought i left them here."

his assistant thought for a moment before perking up, "oh i believe your partner came and collected them while you were in your meeting, sir."

he frowned, "y/n was here? why didn't you tell me?"

"they asked me not to disturb you."

kuroo nodded, "oh alright...well, thank you, that'll be all."

he immediately pulled his personal phone out and called your number, you must have been back home by now.

you saw his name pop up on your screen as you were about to throw out the baked goods and hesitated for a good while before sighing and picking up. "yes?"

you could practically hear the smirk on his face as he spoke through the phone.

kuroo leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling as he spoke. "you stole my sweets from me? where'd you hide them? or did you eat them?"

he didn't even feel bad that he'd just left them there?––"well you clearly weren't eating them kuroo," the smirk dropped from his face and he sat up, alert. woah––kuroo? why did you sound upset? "they were just sitting on your desk––anyway, i was about to throw them out."

"woah, what?? why would you do that?!"

he was speaking to you but you honestly weren't listening, too annoyed and too hurt to pay attention. "look if you didn't like them, you could have just told me so i wouldn't have to waste hours every day busting my ass to make them for you––were you just throwing them out this whole time, is that it?––"

he shook his head with each word you uttered before realizing you couldn't see him, he was just in complete shock. "what? no no, kitten listen to me, hey listen, okay?" you paused, mostly to catch your breath, but he took that opportunity to speak up. "i love when you bake for me, everything you make tastes amazing. i love eating the sweets you make when i'm at work because they remind me of you and of how much you love me––this week's just been a complete pain in my ass and i haven't had the time to sit down, eat and enjoy your treats, i love them and you too much to just scarf them down in a minute. i need to savor them, you know?" despite the adrenaline running in your body, you cracked a smile. "i finally had some time to myself and i was gonna eat them just now when i realized they were missing so i called you..."

he trailed off and you took that as your cue to speak up. "oh..."

you could hear his smirk again, "yeah, oh."

"so i...maybe...overreacted a bit."

he chuckled, the sound warm even through the phone. "no kitten you didn't, i get why you were upset––but, you should have asked me about it first."

you sighed, "yeah, yeah..." you looked at the open containers in front of you, only now noticing the notes you put in them were gone––he must have taken them out to read them even though he didn't have time to eat––"wait a minute, if you haven't had time to eat..." you could hear him clear his throat awkwardly, "kuroo you haven't been eating lunch?!"

he laughed awkwardly, "um, i mean, i eat after work––"

"that's not the same!" you rolled your eyes, "i'm coming back over there and i'm bringing you lunch and you're going to eat it, understand?"

he poked his tongue to the side of his cheek. "okay, kitten."

you sighed, "you're lucky i love you."

he leaned back in his chair again, "oh could you bring one of the––"

you cut him off, putting one of the already closed containers back in your bag. "already on it."

he grinned, "god, i love you."

oikawa:

oikawa loves your cooking

and normally he scrambles home after practice to eat it

but this past week training was grueling and tiring, so by the time he came out every day, he was drained mentally and physically

and he was starving

he couldn't wait any longer as soon as he stepped foot out of the gym

so he went to the nearest takeout place, bodega, whatever to get something to eat quickly,, for the whole week

he thought nothing of it

but when he came home every night for a week straight saying he'd already eaten when you tried to offer him the food you spent hours making?

it hurt, a lot

so you decided you'd stop cooking

oikawa was aching to go home––he was exhausted and all he thought about to get him through the day was you, your cooking and your cuddles. he needed all three immediately. when his coach said they were all free to go home, he could almost feel a weight lifting off his shoulders.

he sighed loudly as he stepped into your home, peeling his sneakers off and setting his things aside. he padded into the house, going straight to the kitchen and frowned when you were nowhere in sight. he'd come home a bit early today, around the time you were usually making dinner.

he looked around and walked to the living room, smiling to himself when he found you sitting on the couch, looking for something to watch on tv.

you smiled up at him and greeted him, the sound of your voice making him feel warm inside. "hi baby, how was your day?"

he huffed and slid onto the couch, lying down so his head was in your lap. "don't even talk to me about the day i've had––i was thinking about you the whole time." he took your hand in his and brought it up to his lips to give it a soft kiss. "you got me through it."

he placed one of your hands on his cheek and the other in his hair, mumbling a thank you when you started playing with the slightly damp mess on his head. "mm that feels good baby." he closed his eyes and sighed contently, settling in comfortably to your touch.

after a few moments, he spoke up softly, trying his best not to fall asleep. "what's for dinner?"

"um i'm not sure," your eyes were focused back on the tv as you thought for a moment. "what do you wanna order?"

he paused and cracked one eye open, opening the other when he realized you weren't joking. "wha––order?"

you looked down at him and nodded hesitantly, "yeah? like takeout?"

he sat up abruptly and turned to face you, "what? why?"

you paused this time, unsure of how to respond. "well...every night for the past week you haven't been eating my food. i think it's fair for me to assume you don't want my food anymore."

he felt a piece of himself break on the inside, "oh angel..." he grabbed your hands, "no no––i love your food, you know that––i've just been so tired this week, i couldn't even wait to get home to eat, so i stopped by the nearest places with the boys." he scooted closer to you. "i'm so sorry i made you feel like i didn't appreciate what you do for me––i promise from now on i'll drag myself on my hands and knees if i have to to come home to you and eat––"

you laughed and shook your head, "tooru there's no need for that––"

he cut you off, almost offended. "of course there is! i hurt your feelings baby, i never want to do that again!"

you smiled and pulled him in for a sweet kiss that he quickly melted into. you pulled away to look at him earnestly. "it's okay babe. just...maybe tell me next time? i was just worried you were tired of my food, that's all."

he pulled you into his lap and held you tight. "i could never and will never be tired of anything you do for me, i promise." he kissed your cheek. "though it is my fault, i did miss your cooking this week––but if you're not in the mood to make anything i understand and we can still order––"

you shook your head, "i'll make your favorite, okay?"

he pulled you in for another kiss, "i really don't deserve you."

5K notes · View notes

meowzfordayz · 2 years

Text

traffic — motorcycle

Author’s Note: inspired by my childhood in Hanoi (Vietnam) and @maaarshieee !!

traffic — motorcycle

Iguro Obanai x Reader, Kocho Shinobu x Reader, Uzui Tengen x Reader

Word Count: ~1,500

CW: dark humor, explicit language, mild sexual content

traffic — car

~faqs~

From my traffic — car hcs…

“‼️ Pls and ty read these hcs w/ a grain of salt and lots of humor ‼️

If you drive, then there’s a high likelihood that you might do some of the following driving behaviors/pet peeves mentioned

Myself included in that likelihood lmao 😬 (not including myself this time around bc Idk how to drive a motorcycle lol, altho I hope to ~eventually learn !!)

These hcs are just a personal indulgence into how I believe various Hashira would approach/react to traffic 😇”

… but this time ✨motorcycle style✨

P.S. For all you motorcycle snobs out there (I mean that as lovingly as possible btw — my partner is one of those motorcycle snobs lol 😎): I know you ride a motorcycle, but for the sake of distinguishing between the driver and any passengers, I’ll be using the verb DRIVE

P.P.S. Apparently you ride a motorcycle bc you go w/ the motorcycle’s flow — whereas you drive a car bc the car follows your commands

#apparently

Writing Obanai purely for the imagery of him having a lil front basket for Kaburamaru 🐍

—Having been adopted from/grown up in Hanoi (2nd-4th grade), I can assure you a snake on a motorcycle would not be particularly weird

—Much easier to transport a snake than 6 ft tall stacks of paper towel bundles

—Or an entire kumquat tree

—Or a dog just sitting on a passenger’s lap smooshed between them and the driver

Dw tho, he doesn’t literally stick Kaburmaru directly into the motorcycle’s basket !! Poor snake could go flying 😂

He’s got another basket, perhaps woven, definitely padded, in which Kaburamaru chills, and then that basket goes into the motorcycle’s basket

But strong winds aren’t really an issue anyway when Obanai’s stuck in traffic

Motorcycles can totally be nifty, sneaky lil vehicles, weaving between cars and whatnot

Except Obanai’s disciplined and doesn’t wanna take any risks w/ Kaburmura, and/or you, as his passengers !!

So he sticks to the rules of the road—As motorcyclists should he firmly believes—regardless of how tired his legs get

Bc yanno, motorcycles can lowkey suck in traffic (if you’re unwilling to utilize their “full potential”)

You can’t exactly rest or balance as one might in a car — it’s similar to a bicycle in that regard

—Idk if this is an unpopular opinion, but ppl who try to balance on their bicycles w/o putting their feet down at red lights are fucking extra 😐

—It’s one thing if you’re doing it as a fun challenge; another if you genuinely think it’s “helpful”

—Bruh ?? It takes significantly less effort to just put your feet down

—”bUt I’m KeEpInG mY mOmEnTuM gOiNg”

—Your momentum isn’t going

—You’re just wobbling around looking like an idiot

Obanai doesn’t have a fancy, dense motorcycle, so having to stand and support its weight in traffic isn’t too tedious

But you still feel badly about it

“Thank you, Obanai,” you say for the umpteenth time, squeezing his waist apologetically

He grunts, “Don’t worry about me, [y/n]. This is light work.”

You snort softly, eyeing the relentless traffic ahead through the clear shield of your helmet, “You could always-”

“No,” he cuts you off gently, “I’m not risking yours or Kaburamaru’s safety. It’s okay, [y/n]. I’m okay. I’m a motorcyclist, not a pedestrian or bicyclist, and I intend to drive as one.”

Sometimes you wish he’d loosen up, especially on occasions when the traffic’s so bad that walking might’ve been faster (walking orrr a lil line splitting action… 🙃)

But you ultimately respect and appreciate where he’s coming from

He’s seen enough cocky motorcyclists whizzing past him only to get pulled over, in fender bender accidents, or worse

Besides…

The heavier the traffic, the longer he gets to feel the warmth of your chest sweet against his back

Your elbows tucked snugly above his hips

Knees pressed comfortably into his thighs

Are there easier ways to “cuddle” ??

Yeah, duh, obvi 🤪

But Obanai’s greedy for all of the ways pls and ty 🥺

If Shinobu’s a menace driving a car in traffic, then she’s an absolute disaster driving a motorcycle in traffic

Disaster as in, she’s a lane-splitting-unexpected-swerving-rubber-burning queen

—Obvi irl pls don’t be a monarch of dangerous driving

—In a car, on a motorcycle, or otherwise 😶

Not to mention, she’s tiny

Just as nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition

Nobody expects a 4’11” woman to zoom past them in the middle of rush hr on a motorcycle

“What’s the point in driving a motorcycle as anything besides a motorcycle?” she pouts as you scold her for her most recent terrorization of downtown

“The point,” you pinch the bridge of your nose, “Is to not die.” “The point,” she grins cheekily, “Is to get from A to B faster than everyone else!”

UGH

“How do you not have a bajillion driving violations? Tickets? Is your license even legal?” She claps gleefully, “I wear a helmet!”

You sigh, bc, well, she does wear more than adequate gear

“Shinobu,” she hums in acknowledgement, “Aren’t you the one who told me everyone at the hospital calls motorcyclists donorcyclists?”

“Oh absolutely! 😃 I’m no exception. 😃 Dr. Donorcycle at your service. 😃”

UGH x 2

“[y/n], dear,” you’re skeptical of the singsong tone of her voice, “If you joined me… just once…”

“No.”

“But-”

“No. I’m not getting on a death trap controlled by another death trap.”

Shinobu huffs, bc she knows you could fall in love w/ riding on a motorcycle — her, motorcycle

The sleek exhilaration, bursts of acceleration at every green light

The coziness of a sun warmed leather seat (Shinobu only drives her motorcycle in the summer), intimacy of your body clinging to hers

The pure badass factor, knowing everyone’s sneaking appreciative, envious glances at your terrifyingly incredible partner

But could and can aren’t quite the same thing

And if she can’t even get you on her motorcycle, then you can’t fall in love w/ it ☹️

You did offer a compromise the first time she made the suggestion

“If you swear to drive normally, then I’ll go on a ride with you.”

Which, she immediately rejected 🤗

What’s the point in driving a motorcycle as anything besides a motorcycle?

PLUS, what if you got stuck in traffic?

Then there’d be no way, none in the slightest, none at all, that she’d be able to honor your compromise

Motorcycles were created to be traffic’s loophole !!!!!

In case it isn’t crystal clear by now: Shinobu is proud and unashamed of her motorcycle driving ~style

Where’s the fun in bringing you along if she has to drive like Obanai by the rulebook?

Then you wouldn’t be riding w/ Shinobu — you’d just be riding w/ Obanai

Someday she’ll convince bribe threaten lie steal you to ride w/ her

Maybe

Prob not

😞

So I didn’t write hcs for Tengen in traffic — car, but dAMN THIS FINE MF 😭

Him on a motorcycle

Puhleeease 😍

Him on multiple motorcycles, bc he def owns at least two

A cruiser and a sports bike

…

Alternatively, him on a classic moped scooter (bc tbh most “motorcycles” in Hanoi are mopeds) w/ you, Hina, Makio, and Suma

—Yes

—All of you

—It can be done

—It has been done

—Literally just Google “moped family” and look at the resulting images

Quick poll!

Would you choose to:

Sit in front of Tengen (smooshed against his chest, muscular arms encircling you, and excuuuse me you’d basically be in his lap… I’ll leave the rest to your imagination 😌)

Sit directly behind Tengen (smooshed into his back, perfect position to feel up his abs hug him, and you bet he’d rub your knee, thigh, whatever, at red lights — altho that applies to sitting in front of him too)

Sit between Hina/Makio/Suma (BOOBS, yeah, that’s, that’s it, thanks for reading, buh bye 😳 I gotta go sit between boobs)

Sit on the end (highest risk of flying off lmao, but I personally love sitting at the end—assuming more than 2 ppl on the motorcycle—bc it’s so FREEING: that taste of danger)

Idk what I’d choose

Likely just switch it up depending on my mood

—

Only con to being 1 of 5 passengers?

Well, there’s prob more than one con lol, but the main one I’m thinking of

TRAFFIC SWEAT

Motorcycles can get uncomfortably hot, especially in the summer, w/ even just 1-2 passengers

Let alone someone of Tengen’s stature + 4 additional bodies

It’s tolerable, enjoyable, when you’re able to ride at faster speeds (~30mph/~48km+ perhaps) bc wind on a motorcycle is no joke

But stuck in traffic?

You’ve all learned your lesson

Saddlebags serve one purpose now: to carry clean clothes for everyone

—Tangent inspired by Obanai’s hcs lmao: TENGEN’S LEGS BE WILD

—Like, stuck in traffic supporting 4 ppl’s weight + the motorcycle ??

—SHeesh! 💪🦵

—Or maybe I’m overestimating how much effort it takes

—Regardless

—🥵

Fortunately, motorcycle excursions usually occur during the weekend

To local hiking trails

Parks for picnics

At midnight, bc why not? ⭐️🌙

So you don’t hit traffic too often

Tengen def intentionally plans your outings to be more spontaneous and naturesque

Bc he cannot stand traffic sweat 😣

#hashira x reader #headcanons #modern au #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #iguro obanai #obanai x reader #kocho shinobu #shinobu x reader #uzui tengen #tengen x reader

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omiscurls · 3 years

Note

hi! (this request is heavily inspired by a kdrama i just watched called sweet home lmao) could i request a childe x gn reader fic where childe and the reader r both severely injured and the reader had to kill someone for self defense and as theyre running away the reader feeling super guilty is like “i’m so terrible i killed someone” and childe is trying to comfort them and they find a place to rest while being both on the verge of death and the reader is like “i killed someone, i’m so scared that it’ll be my last memory”and the childe is like “try to forget abt it it’s ok” and the reader is like “u don’t think abt either too” (yk implying like oh don’t think abt the ppl you’ve killed before childe, bc im assuming he’s killed a lot of ppl) and he’s like ok with a sad smile and they die together in each other’s arms holding hands?)/?:))2 help this is wayyy to detailed i’m sry but if u want the reference scene it’s from this video , they show the specific scene in time stamps 0:57-2:56 again i’m so sorry if this is too detailed or if u don’t wanna write it!!! tysm <3

memory

a/n oh my god that is just my kind of angst, thanks for the request and i hope you'll enjoy!!

prompt: honestly? dying with tartaglia (that sounds like a creepy tv show's title and i'm proud of it)

contains: tartaglia

warnings: angst, death, blood, major character death, self-blame, murder, more blood, really a lot of dying and bleeding, please do not proceed if you're not comfortable with the topics

adrenaline was probably the last string that had your body moving and functioning in any way. the blood in your veins made you deaf, only capable of noticing the sounds of it pumping behind your ears, head pulsing like a bomb about to explode.

your whole body shook, and you felt a metallic taste on your tongue, covering your mouth with your hand to prevent throwing up, which you predicted would happen in a matter of seconds.

"hey!" you finally heard childe yell, sounding distant even still, when you lifted your gaze away from the body before you and noticed he was standing fairly close. "come on, move, or his buddies" he said pointing to the lifeless man beneath you "might just come to get revenge"

with that he took your arm by the waist and pulled you along with him.

you stumbled over your own feet, and almost fell down every couple of minutes. your lungs started to burn after mere seconds, and you couldn't even find breath to tell him to slow down. you also knew he couldn't, having better self-preservation instincts than you, he understood the situation you two were in better.

fuck.

you looked behind you, to the spot where blood painted the grass red under a pile of dead bodies, some of your allies, some of your foes, but from this kind of distance, you couldn't even make out which one was which. your gaze fell down to your hands, covered in sticky redness as well.

you just killed somebody.

it wasn't even the consequences that frightened you, it was the sheer act of life leaving his eyes before he fell down, of his pupils staring at you in one last beg for mercy before freezing like that for the eternity ahead, for how his body seemed to have gained weight in a matter of seconds, almost pulling you down with him. the ringing in your head got more intense as you choked on a strained sob.

"they're dead" you breathed out, making your partner laugh sarcastically.

"good guess" he answered, his grip on your arm loosening as the both of you climbed up a hill.

"no, you don't understand, they're- dead dead! i- i didn't think i-" you stumbled over your words, panic settling in your eyes as you tried to comprehend the situation.

"what, you didn't think that if you pierce a person through with a blade they're gonna die?" he asked rhetorically, back almost slamming against a tree, sliding down to the ground with a breath of relief. "fuck, looks like i got pierced, too" he noticed, looking down onto his side, the grey material of his uniform getting dark and sticky. he hissed, trying to lift it up, and gave up on his attempts, instead opting to look at you.

you didn't sit down, but kept staring forward with the most frightened expression he had ever seen you wear. eyes wide open as you searched for answers in thin air, hands shaking, moving up to cover your mouth.

“hey” he whispered way gentler than before, urging you to sit down in front of him “it’s okay, it was only self-defense. you did kill them, but you didn’t murder them or anything, it was kill or be killed”

his words held so much confidence in what he was saying, you almost felt comforted. he really did master the art of bending the truth to his liking, didn’t he?

“i did it, what if he was someone’s father, or brother, or whoever else, what if i just destroyed someone’s world? he was a human being just as much as i am, i had no right-“ you started relapsing into panic, hands gripping on your hair, head moving down to hide between your legs.

only then did tartaglia notice the huge wound right across the back of your thigh, and several others. fuck, he instantly thought, whoever did it knew what he was doing, cut you in a very specific place, with intent to kill.

he couldn’t even fight back the wave of anger coming crushing at him, but bit his lip instead of saying anything. there was no way the both of you could get to a safe place in time.

he used to be so passionate about continuing to live, normally he would’ve just throw you over his shoulder and run, until his legs gave out, but now, he didn’t even have the energy to stand up. he barely could move his hand, and the more he tried to fight it, the more tired he became.

the feeling of helplessness was eating him alive, both from not having any way of providing you safety, and for not protecting you earlier, not to mention how he couldn’t find the right words to say to you now.

“listen” he started carefully, waiting for you to stop sobbing. “it’s painful, killing someone. it leaves a hole inside you that you don’t know how to cover. it makes your thoughts twist and fight back against you, it makes you want to leave your own head for how bad you feel. it sucks, believe me, i know. you didn’t deserve to have to feel this shitty. i’m- i’m sorry. for not shielding you well enough.” he said bluntly, not a hint of comfort or the usual beating around the bush that he used every time he intended to coax you. just pure, brutal truth. for once.

“it’s okay” you mumbled quietly. your head felt heavy on your shoulders, and you felt how it started to fall off its support. the numbness in your legs, this sort of stressful feeling of being constantly out of air- “i don’t want to die, though”

the sentence felt like a whimper, a cry of help, but tartaglia knew there was exactly nothing he could do.

“am i gonna die?” your voice felt a little stronger, laced with fear, and you lifted your eyes back onto him, in search of a “no” that you knew you wouldn’t find. “i’m gonna leave this world with killing a man as my last memory” you laughed bitterly, before laugh became a cry, and tears mixed with sweat on the surface of your cheeks. “that’s the worst fucking death i could ever imagine”

“baby, look at me” he asked calmly “come here”

when you moved to sit on his side, his hand, sticky from blood, intertwined its fingers with yours, and squeezed tightly.

“look. we’re sitting on a hill, under a tree, the sun is high up in the sky, a meadow below us, it’s a perfect date!” he laughed so authentically, you almost believed it was true. “we’re on a dream date, isn’t that amazing? and look.”

with that, he tilted your head towards his, and kissed you softly and shortly.

“i love you.” he said in the calmest manner he could force out “is that a better memory?”

you placed your head on his side, attempting to hug him even a little bit, tears staining his uniform even more.

“i don’t want to leave you.”

“i’ll be right behind you. guarding your back, like i always do. after all, i promised to always protect you, right? death won’t change my plans.”

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #childe x reader #genshin boys #childe angst #genshin impact angst #genshin angst #genshin imagines

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lunaekalenda · 3 years

Note

Heya An 💕🥺 I hope when you see this you are doing good!! First of all congrats and I checked out your event (which is so creative btw and I love it) and here is my request! (I hope it’s not complicated omg-)

💖, ❓, can it be in the aot world? Like she joined the survey crops and she is really skilled, smart and really tough and that caught Levi’s attention and he has a crush on her :,). After a mission battle she almost risked her life but Levi saved her. It got her by surprise and she tells levi why did u save me out of all ppl and Levi decided to confess his feelings first time to the person he loves and he gets all nervous and shy. (Like he just says randomly “will you be my girl?”) and hes all blushed up. And the girl is all surprised but accepts it and she brags abt it to all her friends that Levi is her man and he lowkey is rlly happy abt that 🥺 (fluff scenes of him holding her hand and all that to FINALLY show off he has a girl and he’s so cute and happy abt it 😭). Thank you and have a great day ✨

ofc!! i hope you like it <3 and thanks for participating! <3

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

romance + strangers + canonverse feat. Levi Ackerman

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

“Nice one!” Hange says approaching you. You land on the floor and smile to them. They look to the tall tree you just escalated in a very short time.

“I wanted to try a trick that Rico taught me.” you say. Hange nods, excited.

“The one with the little tumble to turn faster and begin the descent with propulsion?” you nod.

“Yes! It’s pretty useful.” you say. You’ve been friends with Hange for a while now, but you spend most of the time with the cadets of your promotion, specially with Eren.

You have just joined the corps this promotion, training with Eren, that’s what made you two so close. You’re also friend of Mikasa and Armin.

“Hange.” Levi calls them. He’s walking towards you two, loosening his shirt collar with a bony hand. “Erwin is calling us.” He looks at you, as if he had just noticed in your presence. He knows you, he recognizes your face though you two never talked. You made the salute to Levi, after all, he’s your superior. He nods quietly.

He of course knows you. You’re that one that uses the ODMS as if you were executing a ice skating routine, so graceful and pretty. Hange waves a hand towards you. Levi walks fast in front of them.

“You’re too obvious.” they say. Levi grumps.

“Shut up.”

Erwin called them to let them know there’s a mission the next day. One of the squads that went for a recognition a week ago has not arrived yet, and they want to search them. And to know if all of them are alive. Hange says they can call their squad, where you are listed. Levi nods, knowing he has to call his new Special OPs Squad. You talk to Eren to ask him if his squad also goes on the mission when Hange tells you you have to be prepared to fight tomorrow. Eren nods.

“Yes. Captain Levi told us earlier. So, I guess we have to go for that...” he says. You nod and say bye to him after you two end having dinner. You enter your bed and prepare yourself for sleeping, trying to recover energy for tomorrow’s mission.

It is too early in the morning to be talking about titans, but Erwin is giving his discourse before you all leave. You listen to him, trying to avoid unintentional yawns. Once he has assigned every squad to each part of the army, you start to walk. Casually, Eren’s squad is next to yours, on your left. He smiles at you. Behind him, Levi Ackerman looks as awesome as usual, up in his black horse.

The way is silent in your group and kinda uncomfortable. Some soldiers are crying and some others are screaming that they want to go back home. You try to not listen to them. You also want to go home.

No, you don’t. You’re here because you want to help humanity. If stay away from home and risk your life will help your family to live in better conditions, with no more fear, you’ll risk it every day.

A red light is seen, and you know what that means.

“Titans!” Hange says. “I wonder what amazing ones will we find today...” Once you’re near enough to them, you take your blades and swing between the trees.

Levi saw you do that hundreds of times, but seeing your body elevate quietly, all the grace in every movement, from your side is another story. His grey eyes follow you, as if the battlefield was now a stage and this was a kinda strange ballet, in which you were the main dancer, and he only one of the public.

He looks around, blushed. He has to center himself in the battle. Giving a couple orders to his squad, he easily finds an enormous titan. He goes all way up a tree, searching its weak point. You do the same a couple trees to his left, fighting. There’s a weird titan between the two of you, and Levi cannot predice its movements. He seems to be interested in you, but at the same time, he looks at Levi, as if he was about to attack him.

Unfortunately, you were it’s prey.

The titan runs towards you, his mouth open and his hands ready to catch you. You didn’t see him coming, you were too centered on the one you were attacking. The titan caught you off guard, taking one of the strings of your ODMS, making you scream. Levi hears that.

“Y/N!” He goes as fast as he cans near the titan, seeing your blades moving fast towards the enormous hand that was about to cage you. He kills the titan you were trying to kill, the one that had his mouth ready to eat you from his colleague’s hands. Then, he turns over himself, attacking the other one’s neck, the one that is squeezing your body so hard that you’re even screaming of pain. He never saw you screaming of pain. Never.

That’s when he realized how you’re suffering. You feel how the hand around you loses all strength and you fall. You fall because your body feels weakened. Levi catches your body in its way to the floor. You feel his warm body surrounding yours, his calm breath and his voice it’s the last thing your senses catch before you pass out.

❁❁❁❁ ❁❁❁❁ ❁❁❁❁ ❁❁❁❁ ❁❁❁❁ ❁❁❁❁ ❁❁❁❁ ❁❁❁❁ ❁❁❁❁ ❁❁❁❁

The first thing you feel when you wake up is a fluffy bed under you, followed by a softly touch on your leg. You open your eyes quietly, trying to adapt to the light of the room. Levi is there. You blush.

“Captain Levi?” you ask in a whisper. He looks at you.

“Y/N, you’re awake.” he says. He offers you a glass of water. You thank him and drink slowly.

”What happened?” you ask. You don’t remember exactly how you ended there, but you were surprised to find Levi by your side.

“You got squeezed by a titan three days ago.” he says, looking at the marks in your legs. “I came here with you as fast as I could and took care of you.” he says. His hand feels soft and hot against your skin.

“You? You took care of me?” You ask. He nods.

“For all the days you’ve been here, in this bed, with your eyes closed.” he says, his voice going down and his gaze showing what he feels: tiredness.

“Have you been sleeping here, Captain.?” you ask. He nods.

“In this chair.” adds. You take air heavily, but it makes your ribs hurt. He looks at you concerned.

“I’m ok, I’m ok.” you say. “But you should get some sleep.”

“No.” he says.

“Why?” your tone is concerned now. He looks at your bed, but never at your eyes.

“You need someone to take care of you.” He simply answers. His hands play with your leg quietly, making sweet caresses on too of the wounds. You look at his hands dancing on your skin. It feels really good... Levi has been taking care of you for days. He saved you and then took care of you. You thought that the one that will be Levi's partner will be so lucky...

“Can I ask you why did you save me?” you ask, out of nowhere. His hands stop its caresses and he looks at you. His grey eyes are fixated on yours, making a quick scan all pver your face. Your plump lips that he dreamed to kiss for a long time, your cute nose, your blushed cheeks and your beautiful eyes.

“Cause I like you, and i was hoping you could be my girl, y/n” he says.

Wow. You weren't expecting that. He said it so directly, as if it was the simplest thing to say. As if it was easy as breathing. You looked at him, but he was serious.

"Be your girl?" you ask. Levi nods.

"I've been watching you. How strong, beautiful and powerful you are. All those things make my mind a mess, full of you. Your voice. Your body. Everything about you is invasive in my head." he says.

You were totally speechless, analyzing every movement he makes. How his adam's apple goes up and down nervously, how he plays with his hands. You find it kinda cute, how a captain of the Survey Corps is nervous to tell the girl he likes his feelings. After all, Levi took care of you. You felt an attachment, a bond that pulled you closer to him as magnets. You smiled.

"We'll give it a try." you say. He looks at you again, blushed. You smile. His hand searches yours quietly, and you let his fingers tangle with yours. He smiles.

"Y/N, I prom..."

"HOW'S MY FAVORITE GIRL EVER DOING?" Hange asks, entering the room. They didn't pay attention to your tangles hands. A shy Eren and a concerned Historia are behind them. "Oh, you look less like a zombie." they says. "I'm sure that Captain Levi has been taking care of you really well, if you know what I mean." they winks. Levi clicks his tongue, but he keeps your hand caged in his. That makes your stomach be full of butterflies.

"I saw you were in danger, who helped you?" since Historia wasn't called to that mission, she didn't knew what happened. Rumors are fast but, the 99% of the times, false.

"Yeah. Fortunately..." you look at Levi. How his eyes shined when he told you he wanted you to be his girl. "... fortunately my man was there for me." you smile and Levi almost choke on his saliva, but his acting skills were really worked. Historia smiled and Eren blushed.

"Oh Goddess, you two are now a couple?" she asks. You nod, smiling, and Levi blushes after being caught looking at you.

"Why did the little brat blush?" Levi asks. Eren coughs.

"It's just that is weird... My bestie and my Captain..." he says. You blush as well.

"It isn't!" Historia goes on your defense. "It's really beautiful. How the two of them..."

"... are wishing to be alone and we're here. Guys, head to the dorms, our girl is being treated." Hange says. Levi raises a brow and you let out a little laugh.

"Your jokes are pitiful." he says. They close the door behind them and Levi sighs. You smile at him.

"Then... About what treatment was Hange talking?"

64 notes · View notes

okaywa · 4 years

Note

Heyyy, so uhm I would LOOOVE an Oikawa enemies to lovers HC because I think that would be so funny and cute and I couldn’t find anything like that. ❤️❤️ Thank you for reading ❤️❤️

Aww I love the enemies to lover trope!! Hope you like :)

Oikawa x reader, enemies to lovers

-Okay I'm convinced that Oikawa starts off on the wrong foot with just about every person he meets

-Like he’s got that smug act he likes to put on in public that Iwa even says isn't genuine and I think it rubs ppl the wrong way

-So even before you became the team manager you didn't really like Oikawa just from what you’d seen of him around school

-He always had a group of girls chasing him and his flippant attitude was aggravating even from afar

-”Ugh, who does he think he is? Like we get it dude, you have nice hair and you can hit a volleyball but you're still in high school like the rest of us.” You complained after he and his little fanbase had shoved through the halls.

-ANywaysss your parents had been pestering you about getting more involved at school because it would look good on your college resume when you came across the volleyball flyer looking to recruit a manager

-It seemed easy enough so even though you’d have to deal with Oikawa at least it would just be for club hours, right?

-Wrong

-Getting hired as manager meant you had to deal with him 24/7 since he was captain and heavily invested in the club

-He made sure you had his number and he was CONSTANTLY texting you about the team and what you could do better so things ran more smoothly

-Even though some of his suggestions were pretty good he was just so smug about it that it made you want to throw your phone at his face for being right

-You still wanted to do your job, however, and even though he was annoying he was much more experienced than you... it didn't make him any less irritating

-”See y/n-chan, I told you that switching up the schedule would be perfect.”

-The biggest challenge of being manager was restraining your urges to chuck your clipboard at his head, luckily Iwa was always there to hit him upside the head

-Now Oikawa didn't really hate you as much as he loved watching you slowly lose your cool

-He found it hilarious that just one little snide comment from him would have you glaring at him the rest of practice

-Maybe he found it a little annoying that after awhile you no longer needed his help with your duties and now was one of the best managers they'd had

-The team absolutely loved you and you never reached out to him with questions anymore so now he had to go out of his way to interact with you

-whether that be following you through the halls during school hours to talk aimlessly about your latest idea for the club with backhanded compliments

-Orrr during practice always peaking over your shoulder to see what you were doing just to make passive comments like “oh, hmmm, that might work I guess” and “Oh, so you decided on that? Thats... brave”

-He thought you had a pretty cute grumpy face-

-wait, WHAT

-Oikawa would definitely catch feelings first and then struggle with trying to get you to see him as anything other than a smug little asshole

-No matter what he did now, trying to be genuine and compliment you on your work you would always narrow your eyes at him and wait for the second shoe to drop

-You didn't believe him until after the loss against Karasuno

-Iwa had sent you off to track him down because the team was ready to leave

-”He’s probably surrounded by his little fangirls getting treats and doted on for his loss, drag him back by his ear if you have to”

-You went back into the building, annoyed that Oikawa was holding everyone up and you were only getting more annoyed because he was nowhere to be found

-Until you happened to turn down one of the off limit halls that had all of the lights off to keep ppl from going down it

-You heard some scuffling and was that a sniffle? Maybe a kid got lost from their parents

-So you went down the hall fully expecting a lost child and instead found Oikawa sitting on the floor with his face in his hands

-”Oi-Oikawa?”

-He nearly jumped out of his skin and wiped hastily at his face, trying to hide the evidence of his tears

-”Oh, y/n-chan, is everyone ready to leave?” he asked in his usual airy tone, quickly grabbing his bag

-”Umm, yes.” was it even worth it to ask how he was? he would probably slide right back into that carefree persona of his...

-”Erm, Oikawa... are you okay?”

-He froze, the question catching him off guard. Was he? No, he really wasn't and as you continued talking the hot lump in his throat grew harder and harder to ignore.

-”You played a really good game today, you all deserved to win.”

-”thanks, Y/N. that means a lot to me,” he turned around with a watery smile, the first genuine one you had ever seen from him.

-It took your breath away for a second, because for the first time you weren’t seeing the cocky captain that always had a snide remark ready to fire off

-instead you saw the hard working setter who poured his entire heart and soul into this game, who was harder on himself than anyone around him, who felt he had let everyone down with this loss

-You swallowed, suddenly feeling incredibly awkward as he started to break down again despite his best efforts not to.

-You knew you had to comfort him somehow so you reached out and grabbed his free hand that was clenched into a fist at his side and gently loosened his fingers. You set your handkerchief is his palm, closed his fingers around it, and gave his hand a pat

-”the team can wait a few more minutes”

-Now he was crying freely as he sat back down against the wall so you sat next to him and rubbed his back silently, letting him get it out now so he could act strong in front of his team

-”thank you, y/n, for finding me,” he said, tilting his head back to rest against the wall, not looking at you

-”Well, Iwa thought you were probably stuck talking to those girls.”

-He laughed weakly and used your handkerchief to dab at his eyes, “Well I’m glad you found me instead, I really don't feel like having a volleyball lobbed at my head.”

-You laughed quietly, watching him take a deep, steadying breath before standing up and offering you a hand

-”Iwa-chan is probably furious, we should head back.” He said, pulling you to your feet when you took his hand.

-Has he always been this tall? You thought as you looked up at him, not letting go of his hand yet, suddenly aware that wow- he really was good-looking

-No wonder he always had those girls following him...

-“Tooru...” he blinked in surprise at the use of his first name, and both of you flushed when you realized how close you were.

-You weren't sure who moved first but suddenly his lips were on yours and his large hands were holding your cheeks, even after he pulled away and looked down at you with a soft, incredibly gentle smile.

-“Thank you, y/n-chan, I-”

-”SHITTYKAWAAAAAAAA!” Iwa’s yell echoed through the halls.

-”Oh no,” Oikawa blanched. “We really have to go.”

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #oikawa tooru #Oikawa toru x reader #oikawa scenarios #oikawa headcanons #oikawa x reader #haikyuu writing #haikyuu fluff #little bit of angst #enemies to lovers #Oikawa fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu oikawa #masterlist

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delicrieux · 4 years

Note

Hello! May I have a one-shot with Kylo being injured and reader, who is part of the resistance, finds him and takes care of him? Thanks!

idk how this turned out to be 5k words but WHEW i mean if ppl want me to continue it im down so send in sum request of wat u think should happen!! xoxo gossip girl

requests are open! | masterlist | part 2.

Fear. The kind that makes it hard to breathe as if you are kept underwater; the kind that makes your muscles clench and freeze as all senses flow out one by one. Today had been almost too typical — you woke up, you trained, you talked to your comrades and learned battle strategy — and you were certain your evening walk would be just as uneventful. The breeze in your hair was playful; the setting sun provided warm light and set your surroundings in a pleasant, rosy glow. You like the fresh air; you like exploring; you like the freedom that comes with being alone in wilderness. And in turn, it serves as a reminder for why you are fighting in the first place. To preserve this peace, this freedom, that now has been tarnished when you stumble upon a body.

For a heartbeat you think he’s dead — his expression is lifeless and his face, pale as first snow, is bruised, covered in soot and dried blood. Willing your legs to move, you approach cautiously, not breathing, afraid to break the shrill, sudden silence — no birdsong, no wails of wind passing through trees… nothing. Life had, at that moment, stilled completely. But as you draw closer, grass crunching under your feet softly, you intake a breath of both relief and surprise. Dark locks of hair spray on his forehead and obscure the minuscule knit of his brows, his trembling lashes. He’s alive. The thought consumes you and you fall to your knees, skidding beside him, pushing his hair from his face and landing your palm on his forehead.

It’s awfully cold. Chilling. Almost biting at your sensitive flesh, urging you to pull away. It rolls in waves, this sudden cold, sudden sickness, as if it is a virus that spreads and you have caught it with this minimal contact. But you don’t pull away, despite the near overwhelming urge to do so, despite the fear returning with a new blow. Instead you glide your fingers down his jaw and press on his neck, breaking into a small, crooked smile once you feel a slow drum against them. He is alive, but barely. You glance about him, looking around the area. Nothing out the ordinary, no branches broken, no bushes disturbed and no trails left on the grass. How he got here is a mystery that will have to be solved a different time.

You hope he will tell you once he wakes up, if he even wakes up at all.

That, and, his name, too.

Your base is small and tugged away in a dense jungle, the tall trees and heat warding from unwanted visitors — the First Order. The compartments are small; there are barely above a few dozen people here; it serves more as a safe haven for lost wanderers looking for a cause or shelter, or a backup base in case others were destroyed and the rebels had nowhere to go. It is far away enough from war. Everyone here is, to some extent, safe.

You had never been on the front lines. You had never faced a Storm Trooper, had never seen the Force at work — if there even is such a thing, speculations speculations, nothing consistent, merely gossip — and you had never seen a dead body. Perhaps that is why you froze up so terribly at the sight of him. Perhaps that’s why you felt as if a void opened within you, swallowing up the last shred of light, of life, and leaving you hollow.

You should get used to the sight, though. There will be many dead in battle.

He’s the only one occupying a bed in the Medical Wing and he hasn’t woken up for two days now. His vitals are stable — no internal bleeding, no disease detected, nothing out of place as it seemed. But he is lost in deep sleep, constantly dreaming about something that made him tremble and muss and toss and turn, but never wake. It is entirely bizarre how his state is simply there, caused by no injury, no blow, nothing. And the more you take care of him… the more questions you get.

You eat in the cafeteria, a vast enough, pale walled space occupied by few people during lunch time. Next to you sits a blue eyed, blonde haired cherubic woman – she serves as the doctor, the only doctor here. She smiles lightly at you when you catch her gaze. You had always wondered why her name is Vendetta.

The amount of denizens is small here, so small in fact that the only ones serving under this branch is a rag tag team of scavengers, travelers, nobodies that had abandoned their old lives to fight in this war. Rebels, quite literally, with a cause. Many have taken new names. Vendetta, too, had a name before this, a life, a different purpose. Though her odd choice leads you to believe that what ever had happened to drive her here was painful and severe, deserving justice. In front of you sits a tall, bony, brown haired, brow eyed mechanic with a scar running down half of their face – Q. And beside them, July – you had never seen him smiling, had never heard his voice hold a tender note in it. He is always displeased. Always with a frown.

“Seven.” Vendetta calls you, noting your blank stare, the untouched food in your plate. Seven. You chose this because you were the seventh child in your family, and, subsequently, the seventh person to join the Resistance when this base first opened.

“She’s probably thinking about the stranger.” Q mutters, taking a sip, “His origins are…” They glance about, leaning in slightly, “ A hot topic, after all.”

“We get injured wanderers all the time.” Vendetta waves them off, “As if he’s any different.”

“I don’t think we should be so quick to dismiss him, V.” July grumbles, his voice low, the sound of crunching gravel. He sits with his arms crossed over his chest, observing the three of you with something akin to hostility, “You never know who may be working for the Order.”

“You can’t just assume that.” You pipe up, “He might just be another gambler dropped by the Floating Casino because he couldn’t pay his debts.”

“Or he might be a spy.” July stresses, glaring.

“No one knows there is a base here.” You continue, unrelenting, “Half the Resistance doesn’t know it exists, how can someone from the Order?”

“Still, I advice we exercise caution.” Q says calmly, a pleasant smile on their face — if anyone can defuse an argument before it starts, it’s them, “You never know what people are hiding, Seven.”

“Okay,” Vendetta chimes, “I will certainly not disclose this vital information when the man awakes from his comatose state. I shall make sure to confuse and frighten him further by chaining him to his bed.”

“Good.” July says.

“That is not what I had in mind, and you know it.” Q mutters, a tad disappointed, “I was thinking more along the lines of… An interview.”

“Too civil.” July mumbles, “I say we go with Vendetta’s idea.”

“That was not an idea,” She hisses, “it was sarcasm.”

“Fine, interview.” You submit, “Either way, I doubt anyone from the Order would not say they are from there. They are feared. Probably would think he has the upper hand, or something. Plus, our disguise is impeccable. We look like a research facility. Better yet, a shelter if no one wanders up to the main rooms.”

“I also sincerely doubt anyone, Order or not, is so good at lying first thing when they wake up.” Vendetta agrees.

July narrows his eyes at her, “That is an awfully naive observation to make.”

“Really now? It is a known fact that people half-asleep always tell the truth.”

Another hour of this and you feel drained and sore and with a mild headache. As much as their company has helped you, they can be a bit too eager to prove one another wrong. On most occasions you’d enjoy the chatter. Today, however, you feel too distracted to focus on anything. Q makes some good points, July argues, Vendetta and her biting comments pick at your skin. Always the blazing look in her eyes, always a certain gleam of anger hiding within her mellow, sweet tone. You excuse yourself when you finish your meal and they do not keep you from leaving. Perhaps they noticed you being out of it. Perhaps they were too caught up in their new topic – Lo and Chester’s sudden break up.

It does not take you long to come to the Medical Wing. The door shuts with a silent sweep and your heart drops – the bed is empty. Before you can do much else strong arms wrap around you from behind. With a yelp you feel a hand squeeze your throat and your breath leaves you with a helpless whine, sparks flying in your vision. Your reflexes kick in before you can control them. In a panic, you elbow your attacker in the chest and the grip loosens a bit, enough to allow you to escape and put some distance. Inhaling mouthfuls of air, you turn to the man that had been sleeping since you found him in the wilderness.

You never quite realized how tall he is, or how angry he could be. He’s confused and you see fire in his eyes, a sneer on his face, and he stands unmoving, waiting for you to try something, anything, so that he could grab you and try to kill you again.

You raise your hands, palms up —a fragile, harmless motion to indicate you mean no harm. His guard is still up. He’s heaving and his shoulders are tense, his gaze not once leaving your form, “…Hi,” You wheeze, almost voiceless, “I’m not here to hurt you.” You indicate softly. Cold, again, as if thrown into a bottomless ocean; body heavy, like a stone. You gulp. “Are you alright?” You question gently, afraid to provoke him again. “You must be tired. You’ve been out for a while.”

“Where am I?” His voice is deep and scratchy and it seems to set him off. He trembles from anger, you can almost feel the steady build up of rage in his chest, ”Who are you?”

“I’m Seven.” You introduce, “I found you outside our base. Do you know how you got here?”

He takes a threatening step forward and your arms shoot higher, “I’m not your enemy.” You insist, “You are not a prisoner here. You were dying and I wanted to help you.”

He regards you for a silent moment as if unsure whether to believe you or not. However, you sense that he will not try to hurt you, for now at least. You give him a shaky smile, trying to ease him — you cannot imagine how frightening it is to awake in some room among strangers and not knowing where you are or what had happened. “Do you…know your name?” You continue your questions, your arms slowly falling by your sides. After another pause, he nods curtly, “Good. That’s good.” you step away from his bed, “Please, lie down. You’re still recovering. No shady business, I promise.”

You are a bit surprised that he listens, but you don’t show it. He’s cautious, regarding you as if you were some dangerous animal cornering him, and his walk is sluggish. You can tell it’s hard for him to move, but don’t say anything. You doubt it would do any good. He finally sits down and just stares at you. You try to smile again, “Do you know how you got here? It’s okay if you don’t.”

“How long have I been here for?” He asks instead.

“Two full days in the base.” You say calmly, “But out there?” You vaguely motion with your head to the outside world, “I don’t know.”

Your answer unnerves him. For the first time his frown falls and he stares at you with big eyes and a trembling lip, as if a lost child not knowing what to do. That expression warps suddenly and he looks away, his hands gripping the side of the bed so tightly his knuckles turn white.

“Well, if there is…anything you need…” You start mildly, “You can call upon me. Or Vendetta. She’s the doctor here, so if you feel any pain or sickness, you should tell her. She’s sweet.” You smile, “And she will help. But right now, just try to rest…I’ll…leave you to it.”

You bolt past him to the door but– “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

You turn back to him, shaking your head lightly, “No. But it doesn’t matter. A lot of adventures come through here, lost and injured. You aren’t the first one. Now rest, please.”

He’s volatile, is what you learn upon the first days of his resurrection. His mood can change in a flip of a coin and he goes from placid to enraged in a blink of an eye. Tantrums, yelling — all signatures of a spoiled child not knowing what he has but simply wanting to break it. He’s nobility, or so your peers gossip. You hear snippets of all sorts of things, each more outrageous than the one before. The one that he is a prince kicked out of home for adultery seems to be the most popular one.

And he’s egotistical. He had not been, besides the attempted murder, that hostile and untamed towards you — the choking you told no one about as you concluded he simply felt threatened and scared. Though his other tantrums you are not so quick to chalk up as self-defense. Vendetta, exasperated, one evening told you that she somehow offended him — ”All I said is stop pouting because you need my help!” — and he, with a bruised ego, so high and mighty promptly jumped out of bed. Whatever he was trying to do backfired — perhaps he was trying to leave, or trying to grab something and to hit her with — but he slipped and fell and hit his head into the sharp corner of table. “And I said to him, oh I said: look what you’ve done now! Off to bed, quickly!” Vendetta finished bitterly, stabbing her fork idly into her food, possibly imagining his face there. His nose, much to V’s displeasure, was not broken, but an ugly gash and a dark bruise split his skin in half and he laid in bed sulking for at least a day.

As the week passed, he seemed to favor your company the most. It is not that he smiled and joked and laughed in your presence, and you were not exchanging secrets or hugging or even calling each other friends. He simply seemed to be more mellow around you, possibly because you oddly knew what to say and what to keep silent. It is as if you sensed the subtle shift of his moods; could read his expressions in a way no one could, perhaps no one tried. And you would come and visit him as often as you could when relieved of your duties — you felt responsible for him in a way, and you wondered if you would still feel this weight on your shoulders when he eventually left this place. After all it was you that had found him lying in the grass; it was you that had insisted to help him; and now, it is you that brings him food and tries to provide some comfort in a form of conversation. You don’t pry into his past, don’t even ask for his name, because you know he does not want to give it, and you won’t risk questioning in fear of another explosion of his temper. You talk about inconsequential things: what’s happening around the base, what sort of plants grow around here, what bugs could kill him before he took two steps. He especially enjoys hearing the rumors about him, even if he is too prideful to admit that they amuse him greatly.

“And what if I am?” He questions one evening, something akin to a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. His eyes, a kind hazel color that could be beautiful if not for the persistent angry spark within them that is now, seemingly, vacant, watch you closely.

You frown softly, “Are what?” You question, “A prince?” He nods. You snort, “Well then, your majesty, I shall make sure to inform the others. What will be your first decree?”

He pretends to think, “No more slacking around.” He says sternly, “This is supposed to be a military base, isn’t it?” He ends on a cheeky note. You gulp. Ah, yes, you might have let it slip that he’s in one of the Resistance’s safe houses, though you did not disclose the coordinates.

“On a mission to make fun illegal, are you?” You ask with a raised brow.

He frowns, “Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too!”

Childish, really, though you suppose it is better than arguing with July.

You feel it before you hear it— rain and thunder. The merciless patter on the roof and on your window. In night the sound is almost deafening — a loud roar of an engine, followed by cracks of lightning and flashes in the dark sky. You would have slept through it if not for the pins and needles washing your skin behind the warm sheets thrown on your body. You stir. Thunder roars and a flash of bright white light illuminates your room and seeps through the cracks of your lashes. Cold, again, as if standing in the middle of a storm.

You finally sit up, rubbing your face and then looking around to see if your friends are playing some sort of joke on you. You were almost certain they had dragged you outside and left you to get drenched. But you are alone in your room and you frown and shiver from the biting cold. Groggily you throw the sheets away and leave your bed, not entirely certain where you are going but there is a pull in your gut and half-asleep you follow it. You think you might still be dreaming —the rain on your dry skin feels real, though all dreams feel real until you awake. You leave the dormitories and take the elevator to the first floor. The base is silent, save for the shrill of machinery. Finally, still in your pajamas and almost fully awake, you step past the main entrance and stop.

It’s pouring, a curtain of rain obscuring the confusing contours of trees and leaves and bushes. The darkness does not help. A bleak light pulses to life once you pass the sensor and your surroundings illuminate. Thunder, lighting, more rain. You stand safe and dry under the roof, and he stands at the very edge of it, half soaking, his face kissed and washed by the rain.

You are not sure what to think. He seems lonely standing there surrounded by darkness and water. It’s whispers, or something akin to that, that urge and beseech that he does not want to be alone. You hear them somewhere in the back of your mind. If he noticed you, and he should have with the light suddenly on, he does not show it. You approach him slowly, your footsteps concealed over the heavy drum of rain.

“Not used to it, are you?” You ask, your voice followed by a bolt of thunder. He stirs, head tilting in your direction. Your heart skips a beat when your eyes meet — there is no hostility in them, no anger, just a distant sadness. You give him a soft smile, “I can tell you don’t see it often. I didn’t, either, at first. I grew up surrounded by deserts and I had not seen a drop of rain for at least eighteen years. But, here… Well, there’s no shortage of it. We have storms at least once a week. You’ll grow sick of it before you leave, trust me.”

He says nothing, still looking at you. The light sniffs out. Both of you stand unmoving.

“Why are you here?” He asks, a note of genuine confusion slipping past his calm tone.

“I… don’t know.” You admit. A frown pulls on your brows and you bite your lower lip, staring into the heavy curtain of rain, “I…I really don’t know.” You turn to him, “Why are you here?”

He doesn’t answer for a moment, savoring the silence. Then, “I got bored laying in bed.” Somehow you feel that anxiety has more to do with his sudden nightly venture, rather than actual boredom. Though, you suppose it is quite tedious doing nothing all day. You imagine he is active, judging by his built. He has a strong character and he knows what he wants (most of the time), or rather has a distinct sense of what he doesn’t want. You imagine he’d be a good commander, or leader, with his deep voice and unrelenting stare, if only he wasn’t so sensitive. He’s too unpredictable. Too uncontrollable. His emotions get the better of him too quickly for him to be unbiased. For that reason alone you deem him unfit to be a spy, or a soldier, or a figure of military power. He’d burn all he would build if that were the case. No, him being of noble birth and being stranded here as some sort of twisted punishment sounds believable enough.

“What are you thinking?” He questions, drawing you out of your thoughts. You hum, ponder whether you should be honest with him or not. “Don’t lie to me.” He says suddenly and you jolt, heart drumming painfully in your chest. For a frightening moment you figured he could read your mind. Then again, you have been spending a lot of time together. He must have noticed how gentle you are with him, how carefully you pick your words. His signature frown is back, you see it for a second when lightning strikes.

“I was thinking about your life.” You admit, “Your work. Whether you really are a royal as most of my crew mates seem to think.”

Flash. You see half a smile blooming on his lips.

“But I know you won’t tell me. Don’t worry, I get it. Ladies love a mystery.”

“What?”

It’s your turn to grin, “Oh, please, it’s almost all I hear about. Seven brought a brooding stranger with a secret past into the base. Lo…Michel… Two of your rapid admirers. I already told you that your arrival has sparked many speculations.”

“I…I haven’t…” He sounds uncertain, flustered almost, as if embarrassed, but there is no way he is, you refuse to believe it. He stumbles upon his words and lastly says nothing. You snicker silently. Another flash of lightning and you see the same confused, puppy-like look on his face you have had the pleasure of seeing once or twice. He does not shield it this time, this moment of vulnerability. He probably doesn’t see the point because darkness obscures everything again.

You extend your hand to him as a silent offering. How many things have you offered him now? Life, health, your company. He regards it, ponders a bit, lastly gently clasps his hand over yours. You jerk. Electricity courses through you and your eyes go wide, tingles rushing all over your body. Lightning strikes. You see wonder on his face, a mimic of your own surprised expression.

“Come on,” You stutter, tugging him, “you’ll catch a cold.” He follows after you. The light blinks on. You don’t know what is happening. Couldn’t have been the thunder, the feeling is not as intense. It felt more like a build up of energy; like you accidentally touched a circuit and it zapped you.

Impossible, you hear something alike his voice but not quite — it’s quiet, distant, muddy.

“Hm?”

“What?”

Once inside, the door sweeps shut behind you, “What did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything.” He sounds a bit ticked now, and you decide to drop it.

“Oh,” You mutter, “must’ve imagined it, then.”

His hand is cold in yours and you squeeze it just a bit, hoping he won’t notice and hoping that you will warm it. When you reach the Medical Wing, you tilt your head and say, “Wait here. I’ll get you dry clothes from the storage.”

But as you turn to leave he doesn’t let go, though doesn’t say anything either. He’s choked up — either he doesn’t know how to say it or doesn’t want to say it at all. He doesn’t want to be alone. Those whispers come again, ringing in your ears so quietly you aren’t sure they’re even there. You give him a soft smile, catching his gaze, “Okay, we can go together. You’ll probably stay here for at least another week, so, it’s best you know where the storage is anyway.” There’s no rush in your words, no annoyance, just simple acceptance. It eases him, relieves him of saying and admitting things he’s not willing to bring to light.

The walk is quiet and you still hold hands. His is much bigger than yours, rough, though not unpleasant. They are hands of a man that uses them often — for better, or for worse — and a twinge in your heart, a sudden thud of uncertainty, informs you that your previous speculations might have not been correct at all. His hand doesn’t feel like that of a prince (not that you would know what that would feel like), no, it feels like a hand of a soldier. But that inching of something amiss is swept away by warmth, silent happiness, a certain deliriousness that starts blooming within you and spreading all around. You feel him, somehow; feel a connection. You can’t put it into words exactly, you doubt you could ever explain it to anyone. It’s fragile. And beautiful. And maddening that such a devout emotion is sprung by something as innocent as holding hands

You wonder if he feels it. You somehow know he does.

The storage room is not big. Your hand slips from his as he chooses to stand by the doorway and you rummage to get his things. You feel braver. Perhaps it’s the tiredness that leaves you so open and bold, but searching you can’t help but ask, “So tell me…” You start, handing him some towels, “What were you actually doing? Besides being melodramatic.” You add, your lips quirking upwards.

He regards you with lively eyes and you see a grin lift his cheeks. He’s smiling, actually smiling, and you know this action is precious and rare and you can’t help but beam at him in return, “You think I was being melodramatic?” He questions.

You laugh a little, a breathless bell-like “Yes” falling from your lips as you fetch him dry clothes from the upper shelf, “All you needed was a cape to swing around.”

His expression abruptly falls and the temperature drops with it.

“Right, no cape.” You mumble, a tad disappointed, handing him his clothes.

As you make your way back, you can’t help but saying, “I just thought it would suit you, is all.”

“What else do you think would suit me?”

You raise a brow, trying to keep up with his drastic shift in moods: again, hes smiling, then he’s pensive, now he seems lighthearted, genuinely curious. “You like to ask a lot of questions.” You conclude.

He shrugs, “I’m just trying to figure out what you think of me.”

“And why are you curious?”

“Now you are the one asking a lot of questions.” He points out. You snort.

“You started it.”

“Did not.”

“Did too!”

This again, followed by quiet chuckles. You don’t turn to the Medical Wing now, instead stopping by the elevator and pressing the red button. The doors slide open. You glance at him.

“So…” You mumble, “This is not how I imagined my night going, but…” You aren’t quite sure how to finish, how to vocalize the strange swirl of emotions in your chest, “Well, goodnight.”

You step into the elevator, going to push the button—“Ben.” He says suddenly, making you flinch and turn to him. He’s not looking at you, instead staring at the floor, “My name. It’s Ben.”

Again, that same energy, that same shock you felt when you first touched his hand ignites your body with something closely akin to happiness. Trust. Bond. He trusts you. The connection you felt was not an exaggeration. He would not have given you his name otherwise.

“Goodnight, Ben.” You say softly, fighting a smile that’s trying to rise on your face, “Sweet dreams.”

“…Goodnight, Seven.”

As the elevator doors shut, you think you hear him say “Thank you”, but that might have just been your imagination.

hope you liked it! xxx

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