#BUUUT i WILL get to reading them. maybe tomorrow. i need to sleep on it (it being second hadn embarrassment) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

atths--twice · 4 years

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A Slightly Different Path

Now, I may have already posted this story before, but once again, we can always use more fiction in our lives, right? 😊

I wrote this for a friend who supplied the idea of, what if in The Sixth Extinction, instead of Scully saying, “Maybe as his partner, but not as his doctor,” she had said “but not as his wife.”

I had started to write an Unnatural and Amor Fati story some time ago. They have been tweaked a bit to now fit this idea, and Amor Fati was completely broken down and restructured. I love when that happens, while simultaneously feeling like I want to pull my hair out. 😊

While I believe that All Things was the first time for these two, I find that there is wiggle room, if I supply the wiggle, by looking at it from a different angle. Now, that doesn’t mean I think this story is canon by any means, but if you squint, and imagine it, I think this could possibly work...

Chapter One 1/3

A Bit More Natural

What if The Unnatural took a slightly different turn?

The book slammed down onto the desk with a heavy thud. It registered to him, but only insomuch that he realized he had slid down in his chair and needed to readjust his positioning. He looked over the top of the book and saw Scully. He offered her no words as he pulled himself up into a more comfortable position.

He saw her in his peripheral, standing up on the desk and looking up through the basement windows. He paid her no attention, but continued to read the book in front of him.

“Mulder, it is such a gorgeous day outside,” she said with longing. “Do you ever entertain the idea of trying to find life on this planet?”

“I have seen the life on this planet, Scully, and that is exactly why I am looking elsewhere,” he said, as he turned the page in the book. A crinkling sound got his attention, and he looked over to see Scully taking an ice cream from a brown paper bag, opening it, and taking a bite.

“Did you bring enough ice cream to share with the rest of the class?” he asked with disbelief as she seemed to have forgotten about him.

“It's not ice cream,” she said smugly, as though she had bested him. “It's a nonfat tofutti rice dreamsicle.”

“Ugh. Bet the air in my mouth tastes better than that,” he said, with a disgusted face. “You sure know how to live it up, Scully.”

“Oh, you're Mr. Live-it-up,” Scully said as she started to step down off the desk. “Mulder, you're really Mr. “Squeeze every last drop out of this sweet life,” aren’t you? On this precious Saturday you've got us grabbing life by the testes, stealing reference books from the FBI library in order to go through New Mexico newspaper obituaries for the years 1940 to 1949. And for what joyful purpose?” She stopped speaking and her words amused and aroused him.

“Looking for anomalies, Scully. Do you know how many so-called "flying disc" reports there were in New Mexico in the 1940s?” Ready to tell her, she interrupted him.

“I don't care. Mulder, this is a needle in a haystack. These poor souls have been dead for 50 years. Let them rest in peace. Let sleeping dogs lie,” she said, and he could hear her silent challenge.

“Well, I won't sit idly by as you hurl cliches at me. Preparation is the father of inspiration,” he said, throwing it back at her.

“Necessity is the mother of invention.”

“The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom.”

“Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we may die,” she said, with a mischievous smile as she took another bite.

“I scream, you scream, we all scream for nonfat tofutti rice dreamsicles,” he said, setting the book down and lunging for the cone. He grabbed her arm and held it as he took a bite.

“No-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho!” Scully yelled, with laughter in her voice. “Mulder!” The cone broke and fell onto the page of the book as they tussled with it.

“Mulder!? You cheat,” she said, looking at him with a smile, as she licked the remnants of the dreamsicle off her fingers. “I can't believe that you've been reading about baseball this whole time.”

“Reading the box scores, Scully. You'd like it. It's like the Pythagorean Theorem for jocks. It distills all the chaos and action of any game in the history of all baseball games into one tiny, perfect, rectangular sequence of numbers,” he told her, trying to explain his fascination to her; to share his passion for something he had loved for so long. “I can look at this box and I can recreate exactly what happened on some sunny summer day back in 1947. It's like the numbers talk to me, they comfort me. They tell me that even though lots of things can change, some things do remain the same. It's...

“Boring.”

“Boring? How can you say that? Here, look,” he said, quickly wiping off the book and going back a few pages, to one he had been reading a few minutes ago. “Ah, here it is. Look right here. See the runs, hits, the score. Inning 3 was exceptionally interesting. And it went to extra innings. That’s always exciting. Plus, you know it was more … scrappy back then, so I’m sure some kind of fist fight broke out during the course of the game.” He looked at the box score again and he smiled. He could almost smell the grass and feel the heat of the sun on his skin as he watched the game in his mind.

“So,” Scully said beside him, bringing him back to the present in their air conditioned basement office that smelled of … well, Scully, if he was being honest. He could smell her above anything else, especially standing as close as he was now. “So … I’ve been up and down many flights of stairs, lugging those huge books around, while you’ve been sitting here reading about baseball? Imagining some sunny day as you ate popcorn and watched men hitting balls with sticks? Am I understanding that properly?” Her eyebrows were up and he knew he was in trouble.

“Not the whole time,” he said, and if it was possible, her eyebrows went up higher. “Really, Scully, I was looking for anomalies. I am looking for them.”

“Buuut …” she drawled out.

He sighed and dropped his head. “I was also looking at box scores.”

“While I …” she prompted.

“Carried large and heavy books up and down the stairs,” he said as he looked up at her. She nodded, a smile spreading across her lips before her tongue ran across them. He moaned internally as he watched her, wondering how her lips would taste.

“So,” she said again, stepping away from him and gesturing with her arm for him to walk ahead of her. “You’ve not only made me do most of the work, on a Saturday, in a business suit, but broken up my tofutti rice dreamsicle. You owe me a new one, so let’s do it, Baseball Boy.” She waved her hand again and stared at him, her eyebrows way up. He narrowed his eyes at her and shook his head. She snapped her fingers and pointed, causing him to sigh.

“Fine,” he said, stepping past her and grabbing his jacket off the coat rack. “But we’re getting real ice cream, because that tofutti shit is awful. I think the air in my mouth actually tastes worse now. How do you eat those? Ugh.”

“Well, I didn’t really get to eat much of it as you so kindly wrestled it out of my hand,” she snorted, as they walked out the door and she closed and locked it behind her. He nodded at the janitor and heard her say hello again as they made their way to the stairs.

“Well,” he said, as they then walked to the elevator and he pushed the up button. “I did you a favor then, because that was disgusting and you should never eat it again. Ever.” She smiled at him and once again licked her lips, making him exhale loudly and wish the elevator would hurry the hell up.

Two elevator rides later, they walked into the parking garage and over to his car, with her telling him he was driving and treating her to an afternoon away from the office.

“The whole afternoon? You said ice cream,” he deadpanned, having no intention to go back to the office now that they were outside of it, but not wanting her to know just yet. “Scully, there are still two or three books waiting to be gone through on my desk.” She stopped walking and stared at him. Oh, eyebrows down, no smile.

Backtrack man, backtrack, he thought.

“Fine, Scully. The afternoon is yours, what do you wish to do?” He bowed slightly and she hummed in the affirmative, her heels clicking along the concrete once again. Raising his head, he grinned at her back as she walked to the passenger side and waited for him to unlock the door.

He hurried over and unlocked it, both of them getting inside. Putting on their seatbelts, she looked at him with a smirk. “Ice cream first. You need to begin your payment. I carried four books up and down the stairs. If each book weighed about twenty pounds -”

“Twenty pounds,” he snorted.

“Yeah, twenty pounds,” she insisted as she stared at him, and he looked away with a smile as he shook his head. “That’s eighty pounds total. If you’re going to make it up to me, well, you’re in serious debt right now. So, ice cream first and then we’ll see what else you can do to work off your payment.” He looked at her and she raised one eyebrow, smiling saucily.

He wondered if she would still be smiling if she could read his mind and see the sudden thoughts running wild in there. Naked thoughts, of his fingers trailing across her soft skin as she moaned into his mouth, her tongue wrapped around his.

“Mulder?” she said, a curious look on her face. He cleared his throat and turned on the car, backed up, and put it in drive.

“Ice cream first,” he agreed, hoping the cold treat would lower his temperature. But then she arched her back, sticking out her chest as she adjusted her position. He could picture his face between her breasts as his hands mapped out terrain he never wanted to leave.

Blood, the smell of the sewer, pustules, he thought, turning out of the parking garage and heading to the nearby ice cream shop, trying to calm his racing pulse.

___________________

“I won’t be able to finish all of this, Mulder,” she said, looking at her ice cream skeptically. “No chance. So it looks like your debt still holds.” Lifting her spoon to her mouth, she gave him a look as she took a dainty bite.

“Whatever you don’t eat, I’ll finish, so we’re square,” he said with a wink. She widened her eyes in response, looking at her bowl full of ice cream and then his, shaking her as she did. “You don’t think I can?”

“I don’t think you should,” she said, shaking her head. “You’ll get a stomach ache for sure.”

“Well, then I guess you better eat up,” he said, gesturing with his chin for her to get back to her treat. She sighed and took another bite, bigger than the last. He nodded at her and suddenly she reached up and ran her thumb across his lips. He froze at the feel of her warm fingers on his cool mouth and he stared at her as she looked at his lips.

“You’ve got hot fudge just there,” she told him as she wiped at it and then stuck her finger in her mouth, sucking off the chocolate, humming as she did. His brain short circuited and he forgot to breathe, letting out a large puff of air when he did remember to do so. She looked at him strangely, but said nothing.

Flukemen, Frohike shirtless, aliens ripping themselves from inside a person's body, he repeated over and over in his mind as he felt his jeans tighten, thoughts of that chocolate sauce being used in different ways firing into his synapses. Scully continued to eat her ice cream, oblivious to any of his discomfort.

When he was sure he could function normally, he began to eat his ice cream, the hot fudge cooled and thicker than it had been at first bite. He ate it all, even lifting the bowl and drinking the melted bit at the bottom, much to Scully’s horror. He set the bowl down and wiped his mouth on a napkin.

He glanced at Scully’s bowl and raised his eyebrows. “Do you need me to finish that for you or …” She shook her head and ate the last couple of bites. “Aww, Scully, see? I knew you could do it.” He winked at her again and she rubbed her stomach, grimacing as she did.

“When this inevitably begins to make my stomach hurt, you’re going to hear about it,” she told him, standing up and wiping off her hand. She picked up their trash and disposed of it, walking back to their table.

He stood up and stretched, rubbing his stomach, and grabbed his jacket. They walked outside and he let her lead the way to their next adventure.

They found themselves in a park with an open air art festival and she smiled at Mulder as she raised her eyebrows. He shrugged and they continued inside. Music and food was available as well, but the scent of meat and spices made his stomach turn.

“Best not tell Scully,” he muttered under his breath. She had stopped a few feet from him watching a play some children were performing about the importance of spring.

They were singing and dancing, dressed as flowers and bees. Mulder had no idea what they were saying, his eyes only on Scully. She was smiling and laughing at the antics of the children and suddenly he saw her bleeding to death on his living room floor, the choking stench of blood overpowering. He shook his head and blinked his eyes as she awwwed at something one of the little flowers did on stage.

She’s right there. She’s not bleeding out. Touch her and see, he told himself firmly. Reaching for her elbow, he sighed when it was solid and she smiled at him in question. He shook his head and looked at the children, keeping his fingers on her elbow, needing to keep a hold on her to know for certain.

Applause rang out and he moved his hand to clap along with the crowd. She motioned for them to continue to the art and he nodded. Many different booths were set up, along with portable walls, the art hanging from them.

Children, animals, fruit, sunsets, beach scenes, and many others were depicted in drawings, paintings, and even small sculptures. Scully’s smile was ever present as she looked at everything, but one in particular he noticed she kept returning to and he stopped to watch her look at it.

It was a smallish sized painting of a house, nothing special about it, but a house that seemed to draw her eye. The sky was the golden hour of sunset when the air seemed to shine and make everything beautiful; beachgrass bent over in front of the house, as though the wind was pushing it. A rocking chair sat on the porch, a colorful quilt hanging on the back.

“It’s peaceful, isn’t it?” Scully asked quietly. “It’s like a place where nothing bad could happen. Everyone is probably down at the beach, packing up from their day out in the warm air. The kids are tired and brown from the sun, their hair tousled, feet covered in sand. The adults are wrestling and cursing all the extremely important items they brought with them.” She sighed and smiled softly, staring at the painting.

Mulder could picture everything she described. The voices calling to one another as they walked the path to the house, tired, but the memories of the day sealed in their minds. They would not remember the exhaustion later, only the fun, and the way the sun bounced off the water.

“But what we don’t see,” he added softly, “their grandmother, who doesn’t get around as well as she used to, just left that rocking chair to check on the meal she’s been preparing. A delicious garden salad, fried chicken, and an apple pie for dessert.” She turned to him with a smile and he shrugged. “I mean, why not?” He smiled at her and she nodded, her arm looping through his, to his surprise.

“Mulder, you truly do keep unfolding like a flower,” she teased, and he chuckled softly with a nod.

They kept on, looking at the paintings, separating as they found different things that drew their eye. When they reached the end of the festival, she motioned for them to keep walking and he nodded.

“See, Mulder?” Scully said, taking off her blazer and folding it over her arm. “Isn’t this better than being in that stuffy basement office?” He shrugged and she hit his arm with a shake of her head.

“It’s nice I suppose, not very …”

“Alien?” she joked, and he shrugged again. “Mulder, not everything has to be an anomaly or unexplainable. Can’t you just enjoy a gorgeous spring day?”

“I am,” he said defensively, and she laughed. He extended his arm and she took it again as they walked through the park.

People walked past, children laughing as people picnicked on the grass and on nearby benches. Spying an empty one, she steered them toward the bench and they lay their jackets across the back before they sat down.

“Life is meant to be lived, Mulder, not only read about in a book. No matter how interesting the box scores may be.” She smiled and he leaned back, crossing his arms with his eyebrows raised.

“I never said I wouldn’t enjoy being outside, Scully, just that it tended to lack a certain … paranormal bouquet,” he said, his eyes on hers.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said, smiling at him as she leaned back, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

The warm wind whipped quickly and her hair blew into her face. He reached out before she had a chance and moved it, tucking it behind her ear. Her eyes opened as he did and she stared at him, her expression unreadable. Clearing his throat, he moved his hand and leaned back, his hands in his lap. Her eyes closed again and he watched her relaxing in the warm afternoon sun.

“What do you say to getting some dinner later?” she asked a little while later, both of them companionably silent. Looking at him, she smiled and he nodded. “I’d like to change first though, as being in a work suit is not my favorite thing to wear on a Saturday,” she said, rising from the bench and giving him a look.

“No one said you had to wear a suit,” he told her, standing up with her, grabbing both of their jackets. Giving him another look, he nodded, knowing that not appearing professional would not fly with her. “Okay, we’ll head back and, sure, dinner sounds good.”

Dropping her back at her car, she smiled as she drove away. He decided to go back inside and put away the books they had taken out. No reason to leave them out and hear her complaints about them come Monday.

He smiled as he began to stack the books, grimacing at the ice cream spots on the pages, hoping they would not get called out on them.

“Well, not ice cream,” he laughed, reaching to check the pages when he saw a picture that stopped him in his tracks. “Is that Arthur Dales?” Looking closer, he saw that it was. His head snapped up and made sure no one was around before he ripped the page from the book.

He grabbed his jacket and put the page in his pocket. The books were left on the desk as he walked out the door, Scully’s gasp at him defacing government property almost audible in the empty office. Closing and locking the door, he headed to Arthur’s place, the dinner plans with Scully completely forgotten.

_____________

Hours later, the story Arthur told him still filling him with bittersweet feelings, he stood in the ball field, the shirt from Arthur worn proudly on his back. The machine he rented was set up and Poorboy stood ready to pitch them out for him, a big smile on his face.

“Ten bucks an hour, Mister,” he reminded Mulder as he started to walk toward home plate.

“Sheesh kid, I know. You ain’t cheap,” he said, shaking his head and looking back at Poorboy, who grinned wider.

Walking on, he glanced around but did not see Scully. He had called her, leaving a message with her answering service. He hoped she would get it and decide to come and meet him. After that story, he wanted to share something he loved with her, as she had done with him today.

He knew Scully enjoyed nice things. Her apartment was beautifully decorated and comfortable. She liked art museums and old books, but he was not sure if she had ever hit a baseball just for the fun of it. If she had ever experienced the feeling of contact with the ball as it sailed far into the outfield.

Tonight, he was hoping to share that with her.

“All right, Poorboy,” Mulder called out, his toes digging at home plate, taking a few practice swings. “I’m ready.” A ball was placed in the machine and it shot out, flying quickly toward him. He swung and missed, digging at home plate again.

More balls flew his way and he hit and missed them equally, not caring if he did or not. He found that all he zeroed in on was the anticipation of the ball and the feeling of impact when he hit it with the bat. The sound of it was like beautiful music and he got lost in the melody, thoughts of anything else far from his mind.

“So, uh... I get this message marked "urgent" on my answering service from one Fox Mantle, telling me to come down to the park for a very special, very early or very late birthday present. And, Mulder... I don't see any nicely wrapped presents lying around, so what gives?” He heard Scully saying behind him and he smiled, happy she decided to meet him.

“You've never hit a baseball, have you, Scully?” he asked her, hitting another ball.

“No, I guess I have, uh... found more necessary things to do with my time than... slap a piece of horsehide with a stick,” she said rather condescendingly as he hit a foul ball.

“Get over here, Scully,” he said, turning to look at her over his shoulder. She uncrossed her arms and pushed from the backstop, walking toward him as he held the bat out for her. He stepped behind her, wrapping his arms around her tightly, holding the bat with her as she took it from him.

“This my birthday present, Mulder?” she asked him warily. “You shouldn't have.”

“This ain't cheap. I'm paying that kid ten bucks an hour to shag balls,” he said, close to her ear, gesturing to Poorboy.

“Hey, it's not a bad piece of ash, huh?” he teased, and Scully turned to give him a look, one he knew too well. “The bat- talking about the bat.” She turned back slightly and he smiled.

“Now, don't strangle it. You just want to shake hands with it. "Hello, Mr. Bat. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." "Oh, no, no, Ms. Scully. The pleasure's all mine." She laughed his name and he was thrilled by it.

“Okay, now, we want to... we want to go hips before hands, okay?” he said, moving his hand close to her hip, but careful not to touch her. “We want to stride forward and turn. That's all we're thinking about. So, we go hips... before hands, all right?” This time he did touch her hip lightly with his hand, while using his own hips to turn her body the right way.

“Okay,” she agreed.

“One more time,” he said, wanting to see if he could actually get away with being so bold. He touched her hip with more pressure and he would swear on a stack of bibles that he heard her gasp. “Hips... before hands, all right?” Her gasp ringing in his ears and causing his heart to race.

“Yeah,” she agreed again.

“What is it?” he asked, wanting to hear her say it.

“Hips before hands,” she said, and it settled in his memory.

“Right,” he said, very close to her ear. “We're going to wait on the pitch. We're going to keep our eye on the ball. Then, we're just going to make contact. We're not going to think. We're just going to let it fly, Scully, okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” she nodded.

“Ready?”

He tried to readjust their grip on the bat, moving his hands down to how they should be, while also messing around with her. Both of them struggling for the space and he grinned.

“I'm in the middle,” Scully said, and he did it a bit more, loving the feeling of not being them for a moment, but silly and free. She got her hands back between his and he could hear her smile and laugh

“All right, fire away, Poorboy,” he called out and a ball flew their way as they swung at it together. They made contact but it was definitely a foul.

“Ooh! That's good,” he said, hearing her laugh. “All right, what you may find is you concentrate on hitting that little ball... the rest of the world just fades away, all your everyday, nagging concerns-” Scully giggled as they got ready to hit another ball.

“The ticking of your biological clock,” he said, as they landed another hit.

“How you probably couldn't afford that nice, new suede coat on a G-Woman's salary,” he said, letting her know he had noticed her new coat, saying without words that it looked nice on her. Another crack of the bat and he felt that happiness he had earlier, but doubled now that she was there with him.

“How you threw away a promising career in medicine…” he all but whispered into her ear. “To hunt aliens with a crackpot, albeit brilliant, partner.” She turned her head and gave him another patented Scully look.

“Getting into the heart of a global conspiracy. Your obscenely overdue triple-X bill. Oh, I... I'm sorry, Scully. Those last two problems are mine, not yours,” he said, keeping it light as they hit another ball.

“Shut up, Mulder,” she said and he could hear the smile in her voice. “I'm playing baseball.” Another swing and she laughed as they hit the ball. Over and over, they did it, her laughter ringing out in the night air.

His love for baseball had been a part of him most of his life. Now he shared it with her, literally sharing a bat between them as they hit the balls into the middle of the field. He made to step back, giving her a turn on her own, but she gave him another look, and his grip tightened on the bat once again.

So much had happened recently, their lives flipped upside down, but she was there with him, laughing and enjoying herself. The feel of her in his arms made him happier than he had been in a very long time.

When the last ball had been hit and Poorboy put up his empty hands, they laughed as they dropped the bat and stepped apart. She pushed her hair out of her face, wearing a huge smile, as she turned to look at Mulder and then out to Poorboy, who was running around collecting the baseballs.

“We should help him, Mulder,” she said softly, her smile still in place. “He’s a child and that’s a lot of balls.” He grinned at her and she gave him a teasing look as she walked away, her hips swinging more than usual.

Hips before hands indeed, he thought, his eyes unable to look away until she squatted down to pick up a ball.

“Jesus,” he muttered, shaking his head as he started to walk out and gather up the balls.

Back and forth they walked, depositing the balls into the basket. Once it was full, Mulder took out his wallet and handed Poorboy a twenty dollar bill. He looked at it and grinned, taking off at a run. Mulder picked up the basket and pushed the machine toward the backstop.

As they walked to home plate, Scully picked up the bat, smiling at Mulder as she did. They dropped off the machine and the basket of balls at the park office. Walking away, he took the bat from Scully and put his hand out, hoping she would take it. When she did, he smiled and locked their fingers together, his heart pounding.

They arrived at their cars and he let go of her hand to put the bat in the backseat. Turning back around, he crossed his arms and stared at her. She smiled, the one he loved most: all her teeth showing before she licked her lips. Once again, he groaned internally, imagining how they would taste.

Stepping forward, she put her hand on his arm. “Thank you for my present, Mulder,” she whispered. He nodded and stared into her eyes. She smiled again, pushing on his arms, bringing him closer to her height, her lips on his before he had a chance to think.

She stepped back and he leaned toward her, dropping his arms and stared at her. He cupped her face, leaning close to kiss her again, her hands coming up to hold onto his forearms.

Her lips were so soft, their kiss sweet, until she opened her mouth and her tongue licked his lips. He opened his mouth immediately, kissing her deeper, allowing her tongue access to explore. His hands moved to the back of her head and her waist, pulling her closer. She melted into him, holding his shirt as she fell flush against him.

Pulling back for air, she stumbled backward, and with the tight grip on his shirt, she pulled him with her, crashing into the side of her car. He kissed her again, her hands going around his back, holding him close as their tongues learned each other.

“Ohhh …” she breathed when he pulled back, staring at her as his lungs burned with the need for oxygen. “We need… we need to go. We should…” She pushed him from her and nervously smoothed her hair and clothes. “I should go. We…”

She licked her lips and he felt his jeans tighten, no longer wondering how her lips tasted. Peppermint. She tasted of the peppermint tea she drank and he ached for another taste.

“I should go,” she said, and stepped past him, fumbling with her keys.

“Scully, wait. Just…” he pleaded and she looked at him and then around the ballpark.

“We need to go. We, as in both of us,” she said forcefully. “Together.” She smiled and he realized what she was implying. “My place is closer,” she said as she got in the car. Backing up, she nodded with that same big smile, and drove away.

“Holyyyyyy shiiiiiiit,” he breathed. Standing frozen for what felt like an eternity, he took his keys from his pocket, dropped them with a curse, and picked them up again. He drove away, tires screeching as he did, seatbelt unsecured, a smile plastered on his face as he followed her home.

______________

Arriving at her place, she opened the door and, less than a second later, he had her pressed against the closing door; her arms around his neck and his tongue in her mouth.

Peppermint.

She pushed him forward, taking off her jacket when she had the space. It dropped to the floor and she reached for her top, pulling it over her head and dropping it onto the floor. He shook his head at her light pink bra that did nothing to hide her hard nipples.

She reached around to take it off and it dropped to the floor and so did he, on his knees before the goddess Dana Scully, his face pressing into her stomach, his arms around her, sitting under her ass.

“Scully,” he murmured, peppering her stomach with kisses. Looking up, he saw her looking down at him, her chest rising and falling.

“Mulder,” she whispered, arousal but also worry in her eyes. He quickly rose off his knees and kissed her, hoping to waylay any fears.

“Bedroom,” she whispered against his mouth, and grabbed the front of his shirt, bringing him along.

Once in her room, it was as though they had danced this dance thousands of time. They fumbled a bit, shoes and socks providing a giggling problem, and buttons sticking as they tried to hurry to get them open.

But when they came together, flesh to flesh, it was perfect. He leaned over her, kissing her, her tongue sweeter than anything he had ever tasted. Her skin was soft and hot under his fingers, trembling as he touched places that made her moan. He kissed her chest, his mouth worshipping her breasts, paying special attention to the rosy pink nipples begging for his tongue and teeth.

Her stomach jumped as he licked at her abdomen, the muscles clenching beneath his mouth. He felt her fingers gripping his hair and he grinned, knowing she knew where he was headed, the scent of her arousal intoxicating him.

“Mulder,” she gasped as he kissed her pubis, the hair sparse. “Oh, yes, Mulder.” She opened her legs wider, her heels on his back as he licked her and she moaned and gripped his hair tighter. “Please…”

That was the last word he heard her say as he set to work doing just that, pleasing her. Kissing, licking, sucking, he took his cues from her. The way she held his hair, arched into his mouth, and how her legs trembled. He paid attention to it all, learning the way she liked to be loved, the taste of her beyond exquisite.

“Mulderrrrrr!” she cried, holding his hair tightly, her legs closing around him as she came. “Ohhhhh…” He stayed where he was, softly kissing, until she relaxed around him.

When he felt her grip loosen, he kissed her inner thigh, finding a freckle there that he wanted to kiss forever. Following a path up, he kissed her hip bones, belly button, the rosy pink nipples, her neck, and finally her lips.

Her legs wrapped around him, pulling him closer to her, her fingers digging into his arms as he kissed her. He positioned himself at her entrance and pulled back to watch her face as he slid inside of her.

“Oh God, Mulder,” she breathed, and he echoed her words. “Oh… my God…” she said again, staring at him until her eyes rolled back, her legs pulling him even closer to her.

“Scully… ohhh,” He pulled out and slid back in, the feel of her all around him, enveloping him just as her body was doing.

She clawed at him, his name tumbling from her lips, her body arching into him. He fell forward, his face at her neck, her breasts pressed into his chest as he went faster, unable to take it slow, the feeling too amazing.

“Scully, Jesus, you feel so good,” he moaned and she cried out his name.

“Oh, Christ,” she moaned out in a low voice, the pitch escalating as her hips met his thrusts, crying out his name over and over, their pace hurried as they chased something they had been after for years, the goal finally in sight. He kissed her neck as her cries grew louder, and they crashed over the edge together.

“Ohhhhh Mulder,” she breathed, her chest rising and falling, arms and legs holding him close, their bodies still rocking slowly. “Mmmmmm, my God …” Her hands ran up and down his back, her nails scratching lightly.

“Scully, oh, Scully,” he said, pushing up and looking down at her. Her hair spilled across her pillow, sweat beading upon her forehead. She smiled at him, her hands reaching for his face, pushing his hair back.

“Mulder,” she whispered and he kissed her, rolling them to their sides, keeping them connected. She pulled back and stared at him, her hand on his face once again.

“Hi,” she whispered, grinning at him as she stroked his face.

“Hi,” he answered with a matching grin, his hand on her hip. Shaking his head, he opened his mouth and closed it, words failing him.

“I know,” she whispered with a nod and a shake of her head, causing him to laugh softly. “For the record, while I had fun tonight, this kind of present is one I enjoy much more. I even got to unwrap it.” He laughed again and moved a little, shifting their bodies. “Mulder…” She stared at him and he nodded.

“I know,” he echoed her words, the humor out of her eyes, the realization of what they had done showing on her face. “Scully, stop those thoughts.” He pushed her hair back and stared at her, shaking his head. “Don’t think right now.”

“Okay,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him, and move closer. “That was… oh, Mulder.” She nuzzled into his neck and he felt her shake her head.

“A home run?” he teased, hoping to halt whatever she might be thinking. She pulled back and looked at him, a huge grin on her face and then she was laughing, her head falling to his neck.

“Yeah, I’d say it was. And a single as well,” she said, looking at him again. He wiggled his eyebrows and she laughed, shaking her head. Sighing, she snuggled into him again and they were quiet, both thinking about what just happened.

“Scully,” he began, and she stopped him.

“Mulder, let’s just…” she said and he nodded, quiet as he held her, his fingers running softly across her back.

They must have dozed, as he woke some time later on his back, her head on his shoulder. He looked down at her and smiled, not wanting to wake her just yet. He got up carefully to use the bathroom, moving quietly around the room.

Standing in her doorway watching her sleep, he felt worried. Now that daylight would be breaking soon, what if she told him this was a mistake? What if she regretted this evening and wanted to go back to how things were, forgetting this ever happened? He shook his head and quietly collected his clothes, getting dressed quickly, needing time to think.

Driving away, he knew he was being a goddamn coward, but that had been a huge step and the repercussions could be astronomical. He was scared, he would admit that, but only in the confines of his car.

“Jesus Christ, man. Go back,” he muttered, but could not make his body listen.

Stopped at a red light, he hit the steering wheel, angry at himself. Looking around, he saw a bakery opening and made a quick decision. Picking up a half a dozen bagels and a container of cream cheese, he drove back to her apartment, quietly letting himself in with his key.

The cream cheese in the fridge, he set the bagels on the counter. Looking in on her once more, he knew this was the right decision. They needed space to think separately and come to terms with tonight.

Locking the door behind him, he hummed on the way to the car. He knew her, really knew her, and he would give her what she needed.

Well, more so than I did tonight, he thought, the memory of the taste of her kiss, her skin, of her making him grin. Shaking his head, he got in the car, driving home to use the computer and see if he could find the artist of the painting they saw earlier today. He had a new take on the story and he wanted to find it so he could share it with her.

The people in that house were not coming back from a day at the beach. No, they were already home. Lying in bed, sated and happy, the basket of baseballs spilled next to the bat that had been dropped on the floor in their haste to get to the bedroom. Grinning at the thought, he sped up, wanting to get home faster, needing something to occupy his mind.

He knew once she had the painting and heard the updated version of the story, she would accept it with a knowing smile.

Yeah, he thought with a smile and a nod, his foot pressing harder on the gas, this is a home run of an idea..

#The X Files #XF Fanfic #The Unnatural #A slight AU turn in the road #I could see this happening #Day out together #Ice Cream #First Kiss #First Time #Sexy Sexy Times

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365daysofsasuhina · 4 years

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[ @sasuhinabigflash2020 || Day Sixteen: Showers ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Hyūga Neji, Uchiha Itachi ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Divine Light ] [ AO3 Link ]

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Not every night is fit for travel.

Hooves gives muffled thuds along the well-worn dirt road. Above the pair of riders, a clear night sky has slowly been clouding, blotting out the stars as the weather subtly shifts. The summer evening is cool, a breeze winding its way through the trees that line the path.

“Another mile or so, and we’ll be upon the inn I mentioned,” the lead rider announces, glancing over his shoulder to his companion. “A suitable place to rest for the night.”

“Must we stop?” is the quiet counter question. “Surely we can make it by daybreak if we press on.”

“We may, but then we will be exhausted and sore from so many hours in the saddle. It’s best we take the time instead to give ourselves a well-earned respite. A few hours will make little difference. The day will be the same, and we’ll not need to waste daylight on sleeping.”

Lips slightly pursing, Hinata nevertheless offers no further argument.

“Besides,” her cousin then offers, glancing skyward as a few leaves begin to bounce around them. “I believe we are in for some showers, lady Hinata. It won’t do for you to get drenched and catch cold.”

“...very well.”

Urging their mounts to a swift trot from their steady walk, the pair hurry the last stretch before reaching the inn. Horses tethered in the adjoined stable, they step in and breathe sighs of relief.

Within, the main floor is largely taken by a tavern. Though the hearth is empty of flame, the atmosphere is still warm and pleasant, the lighting a cheery glow from lanterns and candles. Tables are filled with boisterous patrons, many indulging in spirited drinks before conceding for the night. At the opening of the door, several glance up but offer no greeting, returning to their own conversations once curiosity is sated.

“It is not...entirely suitable,” Neji mutters, eyeing the common rabble a bit warily.

“It will do fine. Not everything must live up to my father’s expectations,” is Hinata’s gentle counter, stepping further in as her cousin follows. “We are warm, dry, and will soon have full bellies and a place to sleep. There’s little else to ask for.”

Not looking as convinced, Neji nonetheless keeps to her side, his wary expression making it more than clear he won’t tolerate any interference as they approach the barkeep.

“Have you any free rooms?” Hinata inquires, ignoring Neji’s hawkish gaze behind her.

“Aye. Have y’need of one, or two?”

“Two,” Neji cuts in, earning a roll of Hinata’s eyes at his prudishness.

“Would you not feel better keeping a close eye on me?” she counters, glancing to him.

“Two rooms,” is his simple insistence.

She sighs. “...two, please.”

The keep then slides as many keys across the bar, each engraved with a number. “Take a seat anywheres y’like, and you’ll be served. May be a tad slow - the weather seems to be swelling our walls this evening.”

“It’s no trouble - thank you.” Pocketing the keys, Hinata heads for an empty table along a wall, settling primly on her seat. “...do you need to be so tense?” she then chastises Neji. “You’re attracting more attention than you’re s-scaring off.”

“Common places make me nervous.”

“It was your idea we stop here. I thought it better to press on.”

“I’ll not have you nodding off tomorrow when we meet the other dignitaries,” is his rebuke. “Even if it means going without rest myself.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine. Honestly Neji, you can be so -”

“Begging your pardon my lord and lady, but...have you need for these extra seats?”

Both Hyūga turn to see a third figure standing at the edge of their table, gesturing to the empty chairs opposite them. Just beside him is a fourth. Both of raven hair and ruddy eyes, Hinata can quickly tell what they are.

Thankfully she recovers from her surprise faster than Neji, and smiles at the pair. “We’ve no need, no - empty chairs are vanishing by the moment. Please, sit.”

Even as Neji glances to her incredulously, Hinata ignores him and watches the pair of young men. The latter seems to be about her age, the other a few years older. “Much obliged,” he offers with a smile of his own.

Hinata offers a nod in return.

“Forgive me, but...I could not help but overhear your conversation. Are you by chance headed to Salustia as well?”

In spite of herself, Hinata blinks. “I...yes, we are. I am vying for a position under Auquiana. Are you…?”

“Ignitrios,” he replies. “Our family has direct ties back to the original blessings. My father insisted we try our hand. Speaking of which…” He holds his out. “Itachi, of the Uchiha. And my younger brother, Sasuke.”

“Hinata of the Hyūga. And my cousin, Neji. Forgive his expression, he is...wary to be so far from home.”

“As are we...we have rarely left the city of our birth. But such a chance could not be passed by so easily.”

“Precisely. Perhaps we can make the last leg of the journey come morning together? Given we’re all headed the same place.”

“An excellent idea. I must admit, it’s comforting to introduce ourselves in a more...secluded venue. I suspect the meeting proper will be quite daunting. Knowing we are not completely isolated will be a comfort.”

“A good point!” It’s then Hinata looks to the younger brother curiously. “Are you vying for a position, or…?”

“I’ll be content either way,” is his reply, tone low and soft. “If I’m chosen, so be it. If not, I’ll still be an attendant for my brother.”

“That is Neji’s hope: to be my aide should I be chosen. But that all remains to be s-seen, of course. I’m sure I will be far from the only hopeful.”

“My brother is heir - I have little doubt he’ll take the role,” Sasuke replies, and she can’t help a smile at the pride in his tone. “He’s far better suited for politics, anyway. I’ve not the patience for them.”

“They can be quite daunting, yes. But I am eager to try and make a difference. My clan has long been divided, and...I have hopes of unification should I be accepted.”

At the idea of division, Sasuke’s brow furrows in obvious curiosity. But before he can ask more, a server finally finds them and asks for their orders. The group then fall back into easy conversation, Neji soon finding a conversational partner in Itachi as Hinata speaks to Sasuke.

“Have you ever been to Salustia?”

“Once, when I was very young,” Sasuke replies with a shrug. “I remember little of it.”

“I’ve never been...but I’ve heard it’s breathtaking. So much white marble and beautiful architecture. And the statue of Luxeria…! I cannot wait to see it with my own eyes.”

“That’s about all I do recall, admittedly. It’s far larger than you imagine it to be. And looks like it could leap to life at any moment.”

“Wow...I’m all the more eager, then! And I’m glad we won’t arrive alone. I’m fearful we’ll get lost…!”

“The castle sits atop a knoll and overlooks the entire city. If you ever get lost, just head there and reorient yourself. It’s where we’ll all be for the majority of the time, anyway. All roads eventually lead to it. At least that’s what my brother says - he recalls more than I.”

“Another wonder to behold, I’m sure.”

“We never got that close, so I can’t tell you. But it was beautiful even from a distance.”

Sinking into daydreams, Hinata rests her chin in a hand, watching rain slither down the window beside her. She can’t help but hope the weather will be clear when they arrive - to see the capital in anything less than a sunny day will surely be a grave disappointment. Hopefully Luxeria will bless the day with sunshine...with a little help from Ignitrios, of course.

Maybe it’s fate she’s met some of the hopefuls under the banner of fire. Still...she’ll pray to Auquiana to stop the rain nonetheless.

...but at least it helped drive them all here.

Once full of both food and gossip, the four part ways and head to their rooms until morning. Neji, as always, gives Hinata stern instructions to best protect her space.

“I’ll be fine,” is her weary insistence. “Besides, you are right next door. Should I scream, you’ll be a moment away.”

“Damn right I will be,” is how he leaves it with a grumble, bidding her goodnight before shutting the door.

Readying for sleep, Hinata sits for a time atop her bed, listening to the rain with closed eyes. For a moment, she can pretend she’s home in her room in the familiar showers of her coastal city. But the ambient noise beneath the rain is still too telling to ignore.

She thought she’d be more nervous, but...maybe meeting a few others and realizing they’re just as human as they are has helped quell any unease. It’s a big day, but...she has faith it will go well. At the very least, even if she isn’t chosen to represent her element, she’ll have an experience of a lifetime. Seeing the Luxerian capital, meeting so many other el’ven people…! Something she’d never get to do under her father’s thumb back home otherwise.

And maybe, just maybe...she’s already made some friends to hang onto once it’s all said and done.

I will admit, I am...not sure what this is, plot-wise xD I was at a bit of a loss for what to write. Not much actual ship content, my apologies. Seems I’m not as entirely over my burnout as I’d hoped, eh heh~ Anywho, just some fantasy verse nonsense, really. Uchiha and Hyūga crossing paths on their way to the same destination~ I doubt I’ll ever do a full fic of this crossover since I’m already doing one that’s more OC-centric. Got plenty of other ideas anyway, once I’m in a better place to sit and do so :’D Buuut it’s late, I’m wiped, and better call it a night. Thanks for reading~

#sasuhinabigflash2020 #shbf2020 #sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #hyūga neji #uchiha itachi #divine light [ au ]

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roman-writing · 5 years

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two, across (1/?)

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Pairing: Hilda Valentine Goneril / Lysithea von Ordelia

Rating: T

Wordcount: 6,428

Summary: Lysithea can barely keep afloat under the workload of giving undergrad lectures and finishing off her PhD thesis. Meanwhile Dr. Hilda V. Goneril is somehow both the laziest person as well as the most successful young professor she has ever known. It's absolutely aggravating.

Read it here on AO3 or read it below the cut

“Homes are a crossword puzzle I can’t solve.”

-Maria Tsvetaeva “Moscow in the Plague Year” (trans. Christopher Whyte)

Lysithea stares down at the newspaper. The world is falling apart, political crises cropping up everywhere, precarious markets teetering on the edge of another GFC, and worst of all: someone else has already done the crossword.

Even worse still, whoever has done the crossword puzzle has done so absolutely flawlessly. In pen. With no mistakes. She picks up the newspaper, incredulous, to inspect the crossword more closely, but sure enough -- perfectly executed in ballpoint.

Her hand clenches into a fist, crumpling the thin pages. Breathing deeply, Lysithea smooths the page out again. In her other hand she holds a travel mug filled with a mocha and extra marshmallows. It's 6:46am and the offices of the biosciences department are empty but for her. Or at least she had assumed that the offices of the biosciences department were empty, but clearly that is not the case. Not unless someone waltzed in and stole the free department newspaper before 6am, which was ludicrous.

Nobody but her bothered to come in this early. Who could have possibly ruined her routine? It's the beginning of the first term of her last year of her PhD thesis, and if there's one thing Lysithea hates more than the thought of having to actually submit her thesis, it's a break in routine.

With a huff, Lysithea takes a sip of her coffee, then starts on a hunt through the offices in search of the culprit. Most of the offices are dark, their doors locked. Her own office is little more than a dingy storage closet that was converted into spare workspace for the youngest of the departmental doctoral students. But when the university allowed her to teach undergraduate courses, they had to clear out an office as well. It came with the territory.

Directly across from her own door is an office that she rarely saw open throughout all two of her years at Garreg Mach University. The nameplate on the door sports the letters: DR. HILDA V. GONERIL. Lysithea's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. The door to Hilda’s office is open a sliver, showing a slit of light from within. Stomping forward, wielding her newspaper and coffee like relics in some holy war, Lysithea barges in without knocking.

Hilda is not -- as Lysithea had expected -- working. The back of her office chair has been loosened so that it leans precariously back, and one of Hilda's bare feet is propped atop the desk. She is hunched over her foot, wielding a tiny paintbrush and bottle of pink nailpolish that matches the colour of her hair.

Hilda only glances up in bored disinterest from where she’s painting her toenails, before returning her attention to her present task. “Oh, hey! Lysithea, right? What’s up!”

Instead of answer, Lysithea holds up the newspaper as though it’s a piece of labelled evidence in a murder case. “Did you do this?”

“Sure did. Hey, do you want me to paint your nails, too? Pink would look great with your complexion.”

“What? No.” Lysithea scrunches up her nose. “Why are you even here this early? I’ve never seen you here before noon.”

In truth, Lysithea has rarely seen her around the office at all. They had been introduced a year ago, when Hilda had been hired as the department’s newest Associate Professor, but as far as Lysithea could tell, the woman might as well have worked on another campus. She could count on one hand the number of times they had exchanged words, none of them particularly memorable.

Hilda rolls her eyes. “Ugh! I know, right? I drew the short straw, and got the 7am undergrad OChem courses this term. Can you believe it? Being the most junior professor in a department is the worst.” She puts the finishing touches on her foot, and drawls, “Buuut it does mean I get to leave early most days. Tit for tat.”

Hilda puffs up her cheeks and blows on the wet nailpolish.

Angry words gather on the tip of Lysithea's tongue. She has to take a deep breath to quell them. "Dr. Goneril -" she begins.

Hilda makes a face. "Ew. What are you? My student? Don't call me that."

Lysithea grits her teeth. "Hilda," she begins again, trying to sweeten her words as much as she possibly can. "I would really appreciate it if you didn't do the crossword in the staff newspaper. Could you maybe get a different paper on your way to work, if you're going to be coming in so early every day this term?"

At that, Hilda lets out a snort of amusement. She puts her foot down on the ground, spreading her legs out so that she's sprawled in her seat. The toes of both feet, Lysithea notices, are perfectly manicured and painted. She must have been here for a while now, if she managed to get the crossword out and do her nails before a lecture.

"No way, short stack. You know how boring it is here without anyone else around? I need to do something with my hands, or I go, like, crazy." Even as Hilda says it, her fingers are fiddling with the armrests of her office chair, drumming a syncopated rhythm.

Lysithea frowns, remembers she is trying to be charming -- which she has never been very good at, to be perfectly honest -- and puts on a plasticky smile. "Well, maybe we can work out some sort of deal."

Hilda remains slouched in her seat. "Like what?"

"We’ll trade. You leave me the crossword on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and I leave you the crossword on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and the weekends. How about that?"

"Hmm." Hilda taps her ankles together, like a child who can't keep herself still for longer than two seconds. Then she announces gleefully, "Nope!"

"Great! We can -" Lysithea blinks. "Wait. What?"

"No deal!" Hilda says, as cheerfully as before. Her cellphone rings on her desk, and a calendar notification pops up on the screen. "Shit! I'm late."

Rather than stand up immediately and bolt for the door however, Hilda leans her head back and sighs to the ceiling.

Lysithea stares at her, then at the phone, which is still chirping away. "Aren't you going to go to class?"

"With wet nail polish? Are you kidding?" Hilda waves her hand in the vague direction of the exit, where the elevators are around the corner. "The little goblins can wait."

"It's the earliest class! You'll be lucky if half of them show up, let alone wait five minutes before bailing."

Hilda yawns. "Good. Maybe then I can just go home and get some more sleep."

"At least turn off your phone," Lysithea snaps. The mechanical chirping is really starting to grate on her nerves. It's way too early for this.

"You know, you're pretty bossy for a PhD student." There is no malice in her tone, and even as she says it, Hilda reaches over and presses a button on her phone so that the alarm stops.

"So I've been told." Lysithea shifts the newspaper so that it rests in the crook of her elbow. When Hilda doesn't look the least bit concerned that Lysithea is still standing in her office, Lysithea sighs, "Listen. I need this, alright?"

Hilda shoots her an incredulous glance. She has begun to swing her chair around so that she slowly twirls in place, her legs outstretched so as not to hit any of the clutter that’s scattered everywhere. Somehow through the full arc she manages to maintain eye contact the whole way. "You need...a crossword puzzle?"

"It's -" Lysithea can feel her cheeks burn. "It's just a part of my routine! I don't like having my routine interrupted! It ruins my whole day."

Hilda continues to twirl in her office chair. Her long pink hair, tied back in twin tails, dangles over the back of the chair, stirring lightly as she turns. Lysithea secretly wonders how on earth someone manages to pull off that hairstyle without appearing completely juvenile. If she wore her hair that way herself, she would look like she was fifteen, but when Hilda does it, she just seems like a free-spirited adult.

Hilda makes a noise between a sigh and blowing a raspberry. Then, all of a sudden, she stops her chair. She bends over double and tests her toenails, deems them suitably dry, and pulls on her socks and shoes -- a pair of black boots that reach just past her ankle. When she stands abruptly, Lysithea has to resist the urge to take a step back.

She had forgotten that Hilda was so tall and broad-shouldered; Hilda dressed in such a way to make her seem as delicate as possible, but there was no mistaking the flex of muscle beneath her clothes. Most people were tall when standing next to Lysithea, but Hilda had a presence that seemed to extend beyond her, making her appear larger than she actually was.

Hilda picks up her phone and begins tapping away at the screen to unlock it. Then, she sticks the phone in her bag -- black and trendy, to match the rest of what she wore -- and slings the bag over her shoulder.

"I really gotta go now. So..." Hilda walks towards Lysithea, making a shooing motion as if trying to herd a cat. "Chop chop! Let's go! Out of my office!"

"Hang on -! Hey! Just -! Can't we talk about this?"

Lysithea is shuffled out the door, and Hilda flicks the light off, shutting her office behind them and locking it.

"We did talk." Hilda tosses her keys into her bag, where they clank against her phone and whatever other objects are kept all in a jumble in there. "And I liked it! Surprisingly. We should definitely do it again! You’re here tomorrow, yeah?"

“What do you mean ‘surprisingly’?” Lysithea says, indignant.

But Hilda only pats her on the shoulder and strides off towards the elevators. For a moment, Lysithea stares after her, then gives chase. She catches up when Hilda rounds the corner.

"Just leave me the crossword," she says as Hilda is pressing the button to call the elevator. "You can do the sudoku!"

Hilda wrinkles her nose as though she had been offered garbage from behind the cafeteria. "Boring!" she says in a singsong voice.

The light for the elevator flickers through the various levels to reach theirs on the fifth floor. When the elevator doors slide open, and Hilda steps forward, Lysithea panics and says the only thing she can think of: “Please.”

At that, Hilda pauses. Her hand lingers against one of the doors, keeping the elevator open. Her fingernails are painted the same colour as her toes, the same colour as her hair, and her knuckles sparkle with various gold and coral rings.

She turns around, and holds out her hand. “Give me your coffee.”

“My -?” Lysithea looks from Hilda, to her mocha, then back to Hilda again. “You want my coffee?”

Hilda makes a grabby motion with her hand. “Time’s a-ticking. Bring me a coffee every morning, and I’ll let you do the crossword. Deal or no deal?”

To accentuate her point, she lets the elevator doors begin to shut, enclosing her within. Quick as a flash, Lysithea thrusts her hand forward, so that the elevator doors bounce back against her wrist. She holds out the travel mug -- all whites and pastel purples and cartoon kittens -- and announces, “Deal! It’s a deal!”

With a beaming smile, Hilda takes the mug. Their fingers brush. Hilda’s skin is warm, but calloused. When Hilda takes a sip, her face scrunches up in disgust. “Ugh. Way too sweet, even for me. Make it a cappuccino next time. Double-shot.”

“You annoying -!” Lysithea starts to swear, but the elevator doors are sliding shut, and Hilda is waggling her fingers in a little wave of goodbye. “- asshole!”

The rest of the day goes poorly. Lysithea is convinced it is all because the beginning of her routine was disrupted, and that it only spells misfortune for the rest of the term. It's completely nonsensical, but she can't shake the feeling nonetheless. To top it all off, she only manages to write a hundred words of her thesis, which sets her a hundred words behind her carefully laid plans for the year. Tomorrow, she'll have to write an extra hundred to compensate. Every word feels like pulling teeth.

Instead of reading articles and writing, as she should be doing, she finds herself clicking through the university faculty website. She has bought herself a hot chocolate from the groundfloor cafe, just to make herself feel better about life in general, and takes a sip as she clicks on the link to 'DR. HILDA V. GONERIL.'

She nearly chokes on the hot chocolate, when the page loads.

With only a year and a half as a professor after completing her PhD in molecular biophysics at an outstandingly good overseas university, Dr. Goneril had already published eight articles in her academic career. Lysithea reads through the bibliography list, gobsmacked. It certainly explains why the university wanted her on their staff so badly; any university would salivate over a promising young professor with a matrix like that.

Four articles a year? Plus teaching two classes a term? That's impossible. There's no way a woman that lazy could have achieved that. Not unless the laziness was an act, and she never slept. Ever.

Four academic articles a year. And here Lysithea sits, struggling to type out two hundred words on an open word document.

Furiously clicking out of Hilda’s profile, Lysithea opens another tab to the university library database and begins searching for more articles to read for her own research.

"Where's my mug?" Lysithea asks the next morning.

It's 6:17am, and Hilda is cradling the takeaway cup Lysithea had ordered at the cafe down the street, because the cafe on the groundfloor doesn't open until 7am. Hilda yawns. "I left it at home."

"Well, bring it tomorrow. I want it back." Lysithea snatches up the newspaper from where it had been deposited on the floor earlier that morning.

"Sure. Whatever," is Hilda's non committal answer.

Lysithea doesn't believe for a moment that Hilda ever intends to give the mug back, but she'll be damned if she lets it go without a fight. Edelgard had given her that cup as a gift last year, which meant that it was no doubt expensive as anything.

Starting off down the hallway to her office, Lysithea can already feel the spring in her step at the thought of everything returning to normal. She has a mocha in hand -- extra marshmallows, as usual -- and a fresh newspaper in the other. It's incidental that Hilda is trailing after her; their offices are directly opposite one another, after all.

She doesn't pay it much heed as she unlocks her door, and steps inside. A flick of the lights. Her bag tossed onto the spare chair, where visiting undergrad students usually sit. And Lysithea drops into her seat, already flipping to the page with the crossword. She folds up the newspaper just the way she likes it, so that the pages have enough grit to not let her feel the scratch of the table beneath her pen, and feels a wave of relief wash over her. She sips at her coffee with one hand, and holds a pen in the other.

The first few clues come easily. Lysithea scrawls in three of the answers that immediately pop out to her, and it doesn’t register right away that she has not heard Hilda opening her own office door. Lysithea is tapping the tip of her ballpoint pen against the margins of the newspaper. She scowls down at the next clue, and chews her lower lip.

A shadow falls over the table from someone approaching behind her, and a hand reaches over her shoulder to point at the crossword with one perfectly manicured pink nail. "OBDURATE."

With a start, Lysithea nearly spills her mocha. Hilda is standing behind her, takeaway coffee cup in hand. She is close enough that her arm brushes against Lysithea's shoulder. Lysithea can feel the warmth of skin through her cardigan.

Scowling, Lysithea leans away in her seat to aim a glare at Hilda. "Excuse me?"

"Five down. The answer is 'OBDURATE.'" Rather than get the hint and move away, Hilda sets down her cup on the table so she can use her other hand to grasp the back of Lysithea's chair and lean against it while she studies the newspaper.

"Thanks," Lysithea grumbles. She adds the answer, and is annoyed when it fits perfectly.

Hilda points to six down. "Ohh! 'Ermine in summer' is 'STOAT'. And seven down is 'TRIPLETHREAT'."

A muscle in Lysithea's cheek jumps in irritation. She writes the words, then grumbles, “This was not a part of the deal.”

“The deal was: I would let you do the crossword. I never said that I wouldn’t do the crossword with you. Duh!”

Lysithea tosses down the pen atop the newspaper. “That completely defeats the purpose!”

“CHUTZPAH!” Hilda announces, and grabs the pen from the desk to begin writing it into the boxes.

“Hey!”

Lysithea has to wrestle the pen from Hilda’s grasp, but not before Hilda manages to write in another answer. Even then, it galls her to know that Hilda let her have the pen back, and could have easily kept it for herself.

Lysithea brandishes the pen under Hilda’s nose like a sword. “Quit it! Leave some for me!”

“You know, you could just get one of those free apps that has, like, a squillion crosswords, right?”

Glowering, Lysithea turns back to the newspaper. “I like this one.”

Hilda drops the matter, but only because she is now pointing to another clue with the answer on her lips. Lysithea smacks Hilda’s finger with the pen.

"Geesh. Okay! Okay!" Hilda grabs her cup, but when she straightens she says quickly, "And nine down is 'ABLOOM' okay bye!!"

Lysithea crumples up a spare piece of paper on the desk and lobs it after her, purely out of spite.

Lysithea doesn’t know exactly when it happens, only that it does. Suddenly, horribly, Hilda is part of the routine.

The realisation dawns on Lysithea during the third week. Every morning Hilda is waiting for her by the elevators on the ground floor. Her smile is brighter than the dawn creeping through the windows. She takes the coffee Lysithea hands her, and immediately launches into loud and colourful conversation about her previous evening, about her students, about her cute neighbor and her cute neighbor’s cat, while Lysithea nods -- groggy, and still half asleep herself -- and mumbles appropriate responses.

They ride the elevator together. They do the crossword in Lysithea’s office, because even though Hilda’s office is bigger it’s always cluttered to the point that Lysithea can barely stand to be in there for longer than a few minutes at a time. The spare seat in Lysithea’s office has become Hilda’s designated seat, which she hauls over to the desk so they can sit, side-by side. Their elbows press together. They drink their coffee, and bicker over crossword clues, and the fact that Hilda has forgotten -- again! -- to bring back Lysithea’s mug.

Lysithea has even taken to complaining about Hilda in her texts to Edelgard. Her childhood friend lives two timezones away however, and can only do so much via text when she's busy inheriting her family's multi-million dollar mega-corporation.

The fact remains that on the Thursday of the third week, Lysithea arrives at the elevators on the ground floor at her usual 6:14am, and is surprised to feel utter disappointment that Hilda is not there.

She peers around the corner for any sign of her. She waits. She taps her foot on the ground, and checks her wristwatch, which means she nearly spills Hilda’s cappuccino when turning her wrist over. Finally, at 6:32 she gives up and rides the elevator alone. She watches the floors tick away in bright numbers over the doors, and even though she is rising it feels like her gut is falling.

She places Hilda's coffee cup on the desk, and does the crossword by herself. She should feel relieved. This is what she wanted. The newspaper all to herself. Nobody bothering her. No annoying chatter in her ear. Nobody taking away the satisfaction of figuring out the clues for herself.

Instead, she keeps shooting glances at the coffee cup as if it might suddenly turn into a rambunctious conversationalist and fill the gap.

Eventually, with the crossword puzzle only three-quarters of the way finished, other faculty members start to stream into the offices. Lysithea gives up and throws Hilda's coffee into the rubbish bin; it has gone cold. She folds the newspaper back to its original state -- painstakingly ensuring that each crease is exactly as it should be -- and places it on a corner of her desk. She pulls her laptop towards her, and opens up her latest thesis draft document with a beleaguered groan.

For the first time in three weeks, she doesn't get the full two hundred daily word goal that she set for herself. It irritates her to no end.

She considers going to have a chat with her counsellor, Mercedes, but decides to just text Edelgard instead. She gets back a reply almost immediately, reminding her to eat something that day, which she has predictably forgotten to do. In response, Lysithea types back a message telling El to get some sleep. The phone goes quiet for a minute, then another text pings back from Edelgard with a series of 'zzz's that makes Lysithea roll her eyes.

A knock at the door behind her, and Lysithea whirls around in her seat. It's not Hilda. Her stomach twists unpleasantly at the realisation.

Lysithea puts her phone down. "Hi, Professor Hanneman. Do you need something?"

Hanneman hovers politely in her doorway until she greets him, at which point he pushes the door fully open and steps inside. "Good afternoon, Lysithea." He nods towards the newspaper. "Are you finished with that?"

She isn't. The crossword is nowhere near finished. Lysithea's mouth slants to one side, but she sighs and hands the newspaper over regardless. "Here. It's all yours."

He takes it with a gentle smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes behind his round spectacles. "Thank you."

"You haven't heard anything from Tomas, have you?" Lysithea asks. "It's just -- I sent him the last draft of my thesis a month ago, and he still hasn't gotten back to me.”

At that, he grimaces in sympathy. "I'm sorry, but no. I haven't heard anything. You know how busy he is.”

Crestfallen, Lysithea mumbles, “Yeah.”

“I’ll follow up with him again,” Hanneman assures her, but they both know there’s not much he can do. Tomas is her main thesis supervisor, while Hanneman was only an adjutant brought into the process earlier last year. At the beginning of this whole thesis ordeal, she had thought Tomas would be a great supervisor -- he shared her Alma Mater, and other family connections -- but so far he had been nothing but chilly and unhelpful throughout the process.

“Thanks. I would appreciate if you did.”

He nods. He’s about to leave, when she blinks. “Hanneman?”

“Hmm?” He turns back in the doorway to face her.

Tugging at her lower lip with her teeth, Lysithea asks, “You don’t happen to have Dr. Goneril’s cellphone number, do you?”

After her own lecture later that afternoon, Lysithea stands in her empty classroom and worries her lower lip between her teeth. Her phone is in her hands. A contact is open on the screen with the name 'HILDA' beside the call button.

Lysithea takes a deep breath. She taps the icon, then raises the phone to her ear. It rings for a long enough time, that she is led to believe Hilda won't pick up, when the dial tone stops.

There's a rustling sound on the other line, followed by a raspy, "Hello?"

"Hi!" Lysithea says. "It's me."

A pause.

"Who?"

"Lysithea."

More rustling. The distinct noise of the phone being dropped, and then muted swearing, as Hilda fumbles for it.

"Oh. Yeah. Hey," Hilda says when she's picked up the phone again. She doesn’t sound thrilled, but she doesn’t sound mad either. "What's up?"

"Nothing! I just -" Lysithea has to put her free hand down when she realises she has lifted it to her mouth so she can chew on her fingernails. “I was just wondering if everything was alright. You weren’t here today, but if you’re just playing hooky, then -”

She is interrupted by a series of coughing. Lysithea holds the phone away from her ear until Hilda is finished.

“I mean -” Hilda rasps, “Normally you would be totally on the money, but not this time.”

For some inexplicable reason, that makes Lysithea feel unfathomably guilty, even though she knows that her initial assumption was on the mark.

“Do you - Do you need me to get you anything?” Lysithea can’t believe that those words just came out of her mouth, but it’s too late to take them back now.

Silence. Then -

“Schweppes Sparkling Lemonade.”

Lysithea’s brows furrow in confusion. “What?”

“I said: Schweppes Sparkling Lemonade. I’ll text you my address.”

And then Hilda hangs up. True to her word, a text appears almost instantaneously on the screen while Lysithea is still blinking down at her phone in befuddlement. It’s only at that moment that Lysithea remembers she doesn’t own a car, and will need to take public transportation to get out to -- oh, wait, that’s not that far. She could walk, if she had the stamina for it.

Twenty minutes later, Lysithea is standing outside a two-story, brick-faced apartment complex that looks like it had been built thirty years ago and never renovated. So, basically, like any poor grad student accommodation on the planet. She approaches a door with the chipped brass-plated number ‘2-A.’

In one hand she holds a grocery bag, and in the other she triple-checks her phone to make sure this is the right place. Stuffing her phone into her pocket, Lysithea knocks.

Hilda answers the door draped in a blanket like a maudlin empress surveying her fallen nation. Her normally immaculate appearance has been tossed out with the bathwater. There are dark circles beneath her eyes, and her hair is a mess. The apartment beyond is cast all in shadow. The curtains are drawn, and Lysithea can't make out anything beyond Hilda except clutter and darkness.

“Hey,” Hilda croaks, trying to add a bit of her usual sing-song emphasis but instead dissolving into a fit of coughing.

Lysithea thinks of a dozen lies and platitudes she should say, but what comes out is: “You look terrible.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” Hilda chuckles, and leans in the doorway. “Do you got the goods, dealer?”

Lysithea holds up the grocery bag filled with two large plastic bottles of sparkling lemonade. “Only the finest.”

“You’re a saint,” Hilda mumbles as she takes the grocery bag and peers inside. “I could seriously kiss you right now.”

At that, Lysithea takes a step back. “No, thank you. Keep your nasty virus to yourself.”

“Guess that means you don’t want to come in, then.”

Lysithea is surprised when she hears herself say, “Next time.”

Even Hilda looks a bit shocked, though it’s difficult to tell. Normally she’s more expressive than this. She mustn’t have the energy to emote, when sick.

Still, she gamely cracks a smile, and waves Lysithea away. “Next time, then. Go on, now. Shoo. Before you get my nasty virus.”

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Lysithea asks as she steps away.

“I’ll be lecturing in the morning, and then coming back to bed,” Hilda says, though she sounds like she should be organising her casket arrangements rather than teach right now.

“Oh,” Lysithea says. She tries not to let the disappointment show, and she thinks she does a decent job of hiding that sort of thing. At least, she should be, given her history.

“But you can buy me a hot drink before I go home.” Hilda offers that like it’s some sort of prize to be won.

Lysithea frowns. “Is my offering of soda inadequate for Her Highness?”

“We’ll just have to see, won’t we?” Hilda winks and shuts the door.

Lysithea brings the newspaper, but not the coffee. It’s 7:04am, and the students of Organic Chemistry II have let themselves into the lecture theatre six minutes ago. Lysithea sits in the back corner, trying to get as much distance as possible between herself and any undergrads who might mistake her for one of their flock. None of them seem to pay her any mind. It’s too early for anything but using their bags as pillows and trying to sneak in an extra few minutes of sleep before their professor arrives.

Exactly nine minutes after the class was meant to start, the double doors to the lecture theatre swing open, and Hilda walks inside. Her heeled boots clack with every step, announcing her presence.

"Sorry I'm late." Hilda drops into the chair at the head of the classroom beside the podium. "I didn't want to come."

She is wearing enormous heart-shaped sunglasses that shield her eyes from view. A dark-washed scarf is wrapped around her neck and shoulders like a shawl, and the total effect makes her look like a celebrity trying to escape the paparazzi. She props her feet atop the table, and waves to the classroom at large without actually looking at anyone. “Pop quiz.”

The class gives out a collective groan of despair.

Hilda ignores them. She pulls out her cellphone. For a brief moment, Lysithea thinks that Hilda is just going text through the entire lecture, but then the projector screen descends from the ceiling behind her, and the projector itself flickers to life.

Hilda gives her phone a few idle taps, and a slideshow quiz appears on the screen. “You have twenty minutes.” She tosses her phone to the table. “Go.”

The students are scrambling for spare paper from their notebooks. Some of them exchange blank pages in a flurry of movement, before they are all hunched over their desks, silent but for the scratch of pens against paper.

Lysithea reads the list of questions on the screen. They are hard, but not impossible. In their shoes, Lysithea would have aced the quiz. Then again, Lysithea had been a model student that two universities had fought over for the grant money that came tethered to her thesis project. It takes these students the full twenty minutes, and even then a few of them are scrambling for answers and scratching their heads.

Hilda’s phone alarm chirps, and all of the students put their pens down like well-trained Pavlovian subjects. On the other hand, Hilda does not move at all. Her arms are crossed, and most of her face is either hidden by scarf or sunglasses.

She is, Lysithea realises, fast asleep.

“Professor Goneril?” one of the students in the front row hazards. Lysithea recognises the student from her own class, a quiet girl by the name of Flayn, related to Seteth, the university’s chaplain.

At the sound of her title, Hilda’s head jerks. She lowers her feet to the ground, and sits upright. She pushes her sunglasses partially up her face so that she can rub at her eyes with the heel of her palm. From here, Lysithea can see that while Hilda looks far better than their last encounter at her apartment, she still looks like death warmed over.

Hilda cranes her neck to peer at the clock on the wall, and says, “Turn ‘em in. And if you cheated, I’ll know.”

All of the students exchange glances, then stand to approach her table and deposit their sheets of paper at her feet.

One of the students lowers his head to whisper to his neighbor. “Do you think she has the place bugged?”

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” his friend replies under his breath.

Lysithea rolls her eyes, and says, “No. It’s because I’m here, and I would tell her.”

The two nearly jump out of their skin. One of them squints at her. “Aren’t you a student from Mathematical Methods for Physical Sciences?”

Lysithea gives him her very best glower. “I’m the professor of that course.”

Both their eyes widen, and they shuffle away towards the front of the classroom.

The lecture as a whole is supposed to last two hours. Hilda only takes an hour and a half, and lets everyone go early. Throughout the entire thing, Lysithea chips away at the crossword to very little effect, and grinds her teeth at the back of the class.

She herself has to prepare pages and pages of carefully labelled and researched notes every week for her own lectures, and even then she always feels like she is scrambling to use up her total time. If she lets the students out five minutes early, it’s like she’s failed in her duty. Hilda on the other hand breezes through the course content like she wrote the fucking book.

And she definitely didn’t write the book. Lysithea checked.

To add insult to injury, Hilda’s slides have an unparalleled clarity that make Lysithea green with envy. The students nod their heads, and type up notes on their laptops. When they raise their hands with questions, Hilda answers breezily and efficiently from her seat despite her lingering cold, checking her fingernails and sometimes even tapping her phone to another pre-prepared slide as though she had expected just that question to pop up during the lecture.

Whenever Lysithea got a question from her students, she would need to work off the spike of adrenaline by drawing out the answer too small on the whiteboard.

By the end, Lysithea is fuming. She hasn’t finished the crossword, and she is feeling thoroughly outclassed.

It’s 8:31, and the students are packing up their bags to leave. Some of them are brave enough to approach Hilda like their approaching a lazy queen sprawled upon her sumptuous plastic throne. Flayn is among them. Lysithea hovers near the exit, clutching her newspaper, while Hilda holds court, waiting. Flayn is the last student to leave, waving at Lysithea, who returns the gesture with a forced grimace.

Hilda is slinging her designer black bag over her shoulder as she walks towards Lysithea. “Hi! Miss me much?”

Hilda smiles at her, and all of those ugly feelings melt away like a snowbank in late spring.

“As if,” Lysithea says, already turning to walk towards the nearby cafe down the hall and to the right.

She orders their usual, but Hilda interrupts to get a lemon honey and ginger tea for herself instead. They sit near the windows, and Lysithea tosses down the newspaper with a scowl.

Hilda sips at her tea. “Someone’s feeling grumpy this morning. What’s wrong? Couldn’t finish the crossword without me?”

“No! I mean -- that’s besides the point!” Lysithea lifts her chin and says, indignant, “One of your students mistook me for an undergrad.”

Rather than laugh, Hilda sticks out her tongue as though at a bad taste. “If that happened to me, I would literally die.”

Lysithea nods. This is the reaction she had been expecting at so grave a transgression.

And then, Hilda asks the worst possible question. “How old are you anyway?”

“Twenty-four.”

Hilda splutters, and has to put down her tea in order to cough into the crook of her elbow. Lysithea can feel her face heating up while Hilda collects herself.

"Oh my god." Hilda’s face is painted with horror, "Twenty-four? When did you start undergrad? As a foetus?"

Lysithea straightens in her seat, and answers primly, "I was sixteen, thank you very much."

"Twenty-four." Hilda repeats with a shudder. "No wonder. I have students that age. Gross."

Lysithea bristles. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, I didn’t mean you. I just had an intrusive thought about dating a student, and had the instinctive urge to dry-heave." Hilda flutters her hand at the base of her throat as if she’s going to be sick.

"I’m not one of your students!"

"Thank god," Hilda mutters.

"I may not have my PhD yet, but we are still colleagues! And I'll have you know that I am very dateable!"

At that, Hilda’s eyebrows launch themselves over the rims of her sunglasses. "I never thought you weren't."

"Well - good!” Lysithea crosses her arms with a huff, and leans back in her chair. “Because I am! I’m great at -” she struggles for what exactly to say, but is too obstinate to give up, and ends up with, “- being available! For dating!”

Hilda is biting her lower lip as if she’s desperately trying not to laugh. Lysithea wishes she could see her eyes; it would be much easier to tell what kind of expression Hilda was wearing if she could see her eyes. It certainly doesn’t help that her own face is aflame; she just knows that her pale complexion will have gone ruddy with embarrassment.

“Glad to hear it,” Hilda drawls, before tilting her head back to drain what remains of her tea. Meanwhile Lysithea clears her throat, and takes an extra large gulp of her hot chocolate.

Dropping her now empty takeaway cup onto the table, Hilda pushes her chair back. “Thanks for the tea. I’m off to bed to show this virus who’s boss.”

“Yeah. Sure. No problem.”

Lysithea can still feel the flush in her cheeks. It doesn’t get any better when Hilda lowers her sunglasses just enough to peer over them at Lysithea and flash her a smile.

“See you Monday,” Hilda says, and it’s not a question. She pushes her sunglasses back into place, and swings her bag over her shoulder.

Then, she pauses. She reaches out, and Lysithea leans back slightly in her seat, but not before Hilda has tapped the tip of her nose.

“You’ve got cocoa on your nose.” Hilda shows Lysithea her finger, which does indeed have a smidge of cocoa powder from the hot chocolate. With a smile, Hilda turns and strides away with far more flounce in her step than a sick woman should be able to achieve.

Lysithea sits, frozen in place. Then, realising she is staring, she swipes furiously at her face for any residual cocoa powder. When she’s finished, Hilda is long gone.

#lysithea von ordelia #hilda valentine goneril #lysithea/hilda #fire emblem three houses #fe:3h #roman writes #this is one of the most self-indulgent things I've written this year and that's saying A LOT

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bapyess1r · 4 years

Text

Head Over Heels

4. Head Over Heels

Joe’s POV

I stared at the Bob Marley lighter, twiddling it between my fingers. Now and then I’d look at the girl’s number and smile. I quite liked her. “Samira…” I read aloud as I ran my thumb across her number.

“Joe boy!” My friend Craig snapped his fingers in front of my face, yanking me out my trance. I looked up at his joyful, gap toothed smile and snickered as Mark slapped a heavy hand on me shoulder, letting out a deep, guttural laugh. After Mark and I left McMullen’s, we met up with another mate at another pub. This one was a bit more fun; cornhole, table tennis, giant chess, giant jenga. Of course we went! And I was having a great time until we sat down for a breather and I started thinking about Samira. “Mate, this girl has you whipped huh?” He asked.

When I thought about it, she kinda did have me spinning. I smiled thinking about her dark coily hair and her eyes and the shape of her lips when she cracked a smile. I felt the warm n’ fuzzies! It was not at all natural to my habits to be this whipped but she made me wanna get used to it.

“What was her name again, bruv?” Mark asked.

“Samira.” I said quite proudly. I deserved a fucking gold star for that one I tell ya!

“So! You got a girl’s number! Stop gawkin’ at the number and start drinkin’!” Craig chimed in, grabbing his beer and chugging easily. I smirked and picked up my own pint. I was so bolloxed that I could barely hold the glass up to begin with. But still I clinked glasses with my friends and down my entire beer in one sit.

“I’m ready fer liquor now- oi, waiter! Might I get… a bottle o’ whiskey, please.” I said, stopping a waitress as she skipped by. I had so many feelings about this. Not only did I get a girl’s number, I had real feelings for her. It’s worrying because…. “Who would like a bloke like me, eh?” I thought aloud again, staring into my glass.

“Mate, not this again-” Craig started up.

“Alright look bruv, do you like her?” Mark asked, shushing up our friend.

“Aye….”

“And you wanna see her again, yeah?”

“Yeah, I do, mate.”

“And you have her number?”

“For fucksake, mate, yes!”

“So then pick up the bloody phone and god damn call her!” He shouted, snapping his fingers in my face.

“Honestly, Joe, she wouldn’t have given you her number if she didn’t like ya.” Craig added. I took a long sigh and stared at my feet for a moment.

“I’ve gotta get super drunk fer that first, mate! She uh….. She’s very uh….”

“My god…. she makes you nervous-” I groaned and waved him off as the waitress arrived with my whiskey. Immediately, I twisted the cap and chugged a lot of it. “She does! She makes ya nervous!”

“Okay so what!? I’m gonna call her- I just…. I dunno what on earth I’m gonna say to her.” I sighed, shaking my head. The alcohol was starting to take effect and gravity seemed to almost defy me in every way.

“Just say you wanna do brekkie in the mornin’.” Craig said, gulping down the last of his pint. I nodded my head, sipping my whisky bottle like a soda.

“I’mna do it, mate….. I’ve gotta do it, innit?” I said, trying my best to work myself up to the challenge. I stood up to get my balance back and drunkenly hopped over the railing that closed us in. I grabbed my bottle and unlocked my phone as I walked down the street of the quiet town.

“Good luck, bruv!” Mark shouted making me laugh a bit.

I typed in the number from the back of the lighter and let my finger hover over the call button. I had to do it…. there was only but so many times I can meet someone and push them away. I had to try… With a deep breath and a swig of liquid courage, I called her. My heart raced as I anticipated hearing her voice on the other end.

“Hello?” The sudden click made my heart stop a moment and at the sound of her voice, my brain went blank. “Hellooo???”

“Oi! Is a….is this Samira?” I asked, snapping myself out of my drunken trance. Then I sighed. “Sorry, that was a um… a dumb question- of course it you. T-This is Joe. Ya smoked a joint wit me on the roof at the pub?” I suddenly started to babble absolute nonsense and I mentally kicked myself for it.

“I’m sorry who?” The voice said. My heart dropped.

“I-I um…...erm…. It’s- I’m soo sorry-”

“I’m fuckin’ with you.” She said with a light airy laugh. I gave a big audible dramatic sigh of relief and took a sip of whisky.

“Jesus! I’m so glad! I’m too drunk to cover me arse right about now…” I chuckled.

“You’re still drinking?” She asked.

“Okay, Judgy McJudgerson!” I joked.

“I’m not judging! I just….. I didn’t think you’d call.”

“Why on earth would I not?” I said sincerely, staring up at the star pierced night sky.

“I dunno…”

“I couldn’t stop t’inkin’ about ya since you left wit yer mates…. I hope that’s not creepy-”

“No! That’s um…. really nice of you. Honestly…” she sounded flattered on the other end and I smiled thinking about her smile.

“So um…. I’m callin’ because erm… I wanted to know if maybe you’d wanna have breakfast wit me tomorrow mornin’ or…. or lunch if you’re not a mornin’ person…. I’m not- but I’d still want to do breakfast… if you wanted to…” There I was, babbling again. “I could show you around town if you’d like….”

“Sure! That sounds nice, Joe.”

“Yeah? Nice! Then I….can pick you up?”

“Is 11 ok?”

“Brunch time! Sounds perfect…”

“I’ll send the address! I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Yeah of course! And I’ll um….slow down on the drinkin’ then.” I said with a brief chuckle, taking another swig of whisky.

“Are you gonna be okay getting home?” She asked me as I spun around a few times in the street, walking aimlessly as I listened to her voice.

“I t’ink I’ll be alright, love, t’anks.” I laughed, stumbling a bit as I tripped over my feet.

“Hm…. okay. If you need anything let me know-”

“You’re so attentive…” I blurted out in a brief spurt of drunkenness. She gave a small goofy goober laugh and it made me grin from ear to ear as I walked down the street, not even noticing the pothole ahead. I stepped straight in it, losing my footing and stumbling straight into a nearby ditch with a slight holler, head over heels. I didn’t dare let go of my phone though.

“Joe? Joe?! You good over there?” I heard her say from the speaker. I pat my body down to make sure I was still in one piece and laid my head back down with laughter full of embarrassment.

“Yeah, lass, I’m still here. Hope nobody saw that.” I chuckled as I climbed out of the ditch.

“Are you okay?” She giggled.

“Just fine. I fell over but no mud. Just a spot of dirt…” I said looking down at my now completely dirty body. I dusted myself off and wiped my face with my sleeve.

“Alright well….. Honey is currently being annoying and tapping his watch. We’re supposed to be drunkenly watching a movie.” she chuckled.

“Sounds like a blast. I won’t keep ya… Goodnight, Samira.”

“I’ll see you in the morning, Joe.” she said in a rather sweet tone. And with that, she hung up. I punched in the air like an absolute idiot and ran back to my friends. I felt like a weight had been lifted.

“GUYS! GUYS! I’VE DONE IT! I’ve done it, I got a date!” I exclaimed and we began our night of celebration.

Samira’s POV

“Who the bloody hell was that? Callin’ at this hour?” Maura scowled, twisting her long brown hair into a messy bun. Brazil came into the living room from her shower followed by Jooheon just as Maura took a seat opposite me on the couch.

“That was Joe.” I said trying not to seem like I was nervous. The girls mewed cutely and Jooheon of course whined as he followed Brazil to the kitchen to fix himself a sandwich.

“AiYah! Does this guy have any respect for sleepy time hours?” He commented, wincing at the mention of Joe. Brazil rolled her eyes and smacked her lips, pushing his head with her freshly done nails.

“Boy, if you don’t leave that man alone!” She snapped.

“I just don’t want her to get hurt! It’s been a while but Javi’s still fresh. I wanna make sure you take your time, y’know- and we don’t even know this guy to begin with! Maura, back me up here, man! C’mon…” Jooheon replied defensively.

Maura responded in a laidback light, picking at her nails. “I don’t know, Honey. He seems like an alright feller to me. He was nice enough… and cute in like a…. Fashionable hobo kinda way-”

“There’s no way he’s not a hobo-” he retorted pointing at me. I scoffed.

“Jooheon, he is not a hobo!”

“He’s a fucking hobo.” He mumbled to Brazil before taking his sandwich to the dining table and she chuckled a bit at his paranoid nonsense.

“How was it talkin’ with him?” Maura asked. Jooheon groaned in the background but he was heavily ignored.

“He is so fucking funny! Like it should be a sin to be as funny as he is. And he’s very sweet. He’s got this romantic side to him from what I could tell over the phone… He’s just a dork and it’s precious as fuck-”

“Buuut?” Brazil added, pulling a box of tea from the cabinet.

“..... I’m not ready to trust anyone like that again yet.” It frightened me, falling in love again. I was with Javi for so long and I thought I grew as a person throughout our relationship. Unfortunately, I was a complete idiot the entire time. I’m still the same piece of trash I was in high school. I was anxious and I was tired. Mostly nervous about breakfast with Joe. I don’t even know what to say to him… He’s kinda intimidating but such a marshmallow at the same time. I couldn’t let myself get wrapped up in something serious.

“So let him know that and take it slow. You are the one in control of this experience.” She said, filling up her massive water bottle.

“And take it slow slow. Like waaay slow-” Jooheon interjected with a mouthful of sandwich.

“Christ, Honey! She’s not a nun!” Maura chuckled looking up from her phone. Once again, she and Jooheon began their bickering. If I didn’t know them, I’d mistake them for a married couple. It suddenly became too much and I stood with a stretch and a yawn.

“OKAY guys!” I shouted above them, causing them to quiet. “I’m going to sleep. I have a date in the morning…” With that, I briskly walked down the dark colored hardwood floor hallway into my room and shut my door, locking it behind me with a fierce need to be alone.

Author’s Note: I just wanna say I’m really sorry for the ridiculously long hiatus lol I haven’t been doing very well here and I’m trying my best to work on myself. Hopefully my brain block doesn’t last this long again and I can keep bringing you content! Please keep reading 💖

#joe gilgun fanfic #joe gilgun #proinsias cassidy x reader #proinsias cassidy #rudy wade x reader #rudy wade

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aworldoffandoms · 5 years

Note

For the drabble prompt I'm asking for #28...or #12. Or both together cause that sounds like a fun Tuesday. XD Stay wonderful!

Authors Note: This is adrabble from the drabble prompt challenge. It’s number #12 and #28. It’s myfirst one so please let me know what you think of it! (also be gentle haha)Thank you for the ask @harlequinash! This is quite long as my words got away with me but Iswear I’ll be brief next time lol. Hope you enjoy!

This drabble is separate from my series ‘Runaway’ but I’musing the same MC haha

[Edit: The outline and placing of stuff on this post are messed up on the mobile version yet seem fine on the desktop version. Just warning you :) ]

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Liam x MC[Ariel]

Word Count: 1, 982 (give or take)

Warnings: Swearing, drunkenness

Lava

The Queen of Cordonia could hold her liquor. She was a master at it.Being an American and New Yorker, respectively, she had her fair share of night’s out. A few times after long week’s ofcorrespondence with delegates, ambassadors and many insufferable nobles she lether hair down and dabbled in a few drinks to calm herself or have fun.

She didn’t know how Liam did it. He was the epitome of a king and thequeen herself? Well…let’s just say she was still learning.

It’s only been 6 months since the wedding and she’d been thrust rightinto the work of a monarch and she had been run off her feet since.

She was exhausted.

So, it was after a long day of meetings, a bill passing through theRoyal Council and a very long, detailed meeting with their Director of RoyalCommunications, that saw her sitting in the lower wing of the palace in the secluded bar just outside the copious palace grounds.

She was sitting at the bar, a glass of whiskey in her hand, sipping onit slowly, thinking about her schedule tomorrow which consisted of brunch withthe Queen Mother and a few meetings she had to attend with Liam. A burst of exhaustionwent through her.

I am so ready for sleep…

“Heyoooo!”

A booming voice rang through the quiet space of the downstairs bar andAriel winced at the volume, her body jumping in shock. Her mouth pursed into ascowl, having enjoyed a few moments of silence before the hurricane known asMaxwell Percival Beaumont flew in.

However, as soon as she met the excited, blue eyes of her self-adoptedfun-loving brother, her earlier annoyance fizzled out to be replaced by abright smile. Maxwell’s energy seeping into her tired bones.

“Hey, Maxwell. What are you doing down here?”

Maxwell shoots Ariel a grin, nodding to the bottle of Russian vodka onthe shelf next to the bottle of Jägermeister. On further thought, Maxwellpointed to the Jägermeister as well. The bartender nodded, handing over bothbottles before putting down a shot glass.

Ariel stared at her friend, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Maxwell…whatthe hell are you doing?”

“Well, Your Majesty…I believe that for a woman who has been working ashard as you have deserves a load off so…” Maxwell pauses, reaching over the barand grabbing more shot glasses. “I think it is time for some alcohol!”

Ariel resisted the urge to groan. She could hold her liquor, yes. But Russianvodka, Jägermeister and the already two glasses of whiskey already buzzing throughher veins would not be a good combination in the long wrong run. Mixing drinksis always a bad idea.

Ariel gives him a long-suffering look. “Maxwell…that’s very thoughtful.But I don’t think that’s a good idea. I have brunch with Regina tomorrow and Ican’t afford––”

Maxwell interrupts her with a wave of his hand. “Bruch, smunch. Youdeserve this.”

“But––”

“No buts, Ariel. You need to relax a little. All that queenly stuff andpaperwork isn’t good for one’s social life.”

Ariel stares indignantly at Maxwell. “I have a great social life,Beaumont!”

Maxwell scoffs, a laugh bubbling up from his throat. “Yeah, because youhave to. You’re the Queen of Cordonia but that doesn’t mean you socialise withthe right people.”

Ariel raises an eyebrow. “Are you implying that you’re the right people for me to be hanging with?”

Maxwell’s grin grows wide. “Naturally.”

“Oh, Maxwell…” Ariel laughed, shaking her head at the youngest Beaumontbrother. He was so incorrigible. Despite how tired she felt, Ariel couldn’thelp the smile lifting her lifts. Maxwell was just that kind of person whoalways lit up a room with his energy.

Ariel finished off the last of her whiskey, setting down the glass witha soft tap against the bar. She groans as she stands up, her feet throbbingfrom being on them all day.

“Uh, uh. Where are you going?”

Ariel stares at him for a minute. “I am going to bed, Maxwell. I havestuff to do tomorrow.”

Maxwell rolls his eyes but continues to pour two shots of vodka forthem both. “Come on, Ariel. You know you want to…”

Ariel sighs, running her hands through her hair. “I have a feeling youaren’t going to stop until I placate you and say yes.”

Maxwell leans back, grasping the two shot glasses and handing one overto her.

“You’re quite right about that.”

Ariel rolls her eyes, the hint of another smile on her lips as theyclink glasses and they both toss back the shot, the strong Russian alcoholburning down her throat as it went.

***

“Maxwell…you a succhh a bad in-plueence on me…”

“Whaaat can I say, Ariel? I am one half of the Brothers Beaumont. Ihaaavve to be at least good at something, right?”

Ariel giggles, the sound loud in the room they occupied. They had movedfrom the bottom level bar to the drawing room next to it. Maxwell and Arielwere seated on the ground, their backs leaning up against the sofa.

“You know what, Maxwell?”

“What?”

Ariel lolls her head to the side, her mind a haze with the amount of alcoholshe had consumed.

“I think I could beat you at a game of lava.”

Maxwell looks at her quizzically despite his inebriated state. “Lavv-a?What kind of game is that?”

Ariel’s lips pull up in a large grin, her excitement growing. This is onegame that Maxwell wouldn’t know about.

Ariel pours herself another shot of vodka and downs it, slamming the glass on the coffee table before standing, wobbling on her feet slightly.

“Okay…now, I will teach you this custom. It was basically the childhood gameof all American child-renn…”

Seeing Ariel’s smile, Maxwell follows her, jumping up on his feet,himself almost falling over. “Okay! Showme this custom of yours, Little Blossom!”

Ariel laughs, clapping her hands in childlike excitement. “Okay. Soooo…youhave to pretennd that..the ground is hot like lava and that everyything else isssaaafe. So…let’sss say I call out ‘lava’…then we’d have to find the n-nearestpiece of furniture and stand on it. The first one to fall down or trip loses.”

“Buuut…” Ariel says, lifting up a finger. “The last one to land on a piece of furniture has to take a drink.”

Maxwell smiles, nodding his head in drunken excitement. “Ooooh…let’s dothisss. P-prepare to lose, little blossom-m.”

Ariel and Maxwell begin on opposite sides of the reading room. Both ofthem in the middle, eyeing prospective places to keep off the floor. With themany shots of alcohol running through her system Ariel gives a devious grin toMaxwell and shouts at the top of her lungs,

“LAVA!”

With that yell, Ariel shoots away and jumps on to the nearest thing shecan find which was a cream coloured reading chair beside the fireplace. Maxwellhad found a brown oak coffee table to settle on. Both Ariel and Maxwell laughas they take turns in jumping on the furniture, shooting back vodka and yelling‘Lava’ a few times their voices almost raw.

“Lava! Oh, Ariel—watch out!”

In her excitement to get to safety on top of the sofa, Ariel missed herfooting and with the momentum of her upper body she tumbles over the back of thesofa and lands with a loud thud.

“Ow! That f-fucking hurt!”

“Craaap! Are you alright?”

“What in the world is going on in here?”

Ariel freezes, her body going rigid at the voice. She recognised it. Herface scrunched up in a grimace. It wasn’t many times that he saw her drunk butnow was one of those times.

Ariel thought it best to stay behind the sofa. It was the safest place forher to be right now.

Ariel peeked underneath it, seeing Maxwell standing atop the piano. Shestifled a giggle that wanted to bubble up from her throat but she slapped ahand on her mouth to stop it.

“Maxwell? What are you doing on the piano?”

Ariel sees as Maxwell stumbles for words, himself swaying on the pianotrying to appear sober but failing miserably.

“Um –– I…I don’t…you see…it was Ariel’s idea…”

Thanks a lot, Maxwell…

“Ariel? Is she here? Where is she?”

Ariel closes her eyes as her heart beats widely against her chest.

Shit. Shit. Shiiit.

“She’s hiding behind the sofa.”

Ariel hears a sigh and feet hitting the floor before a shadow passesover her form and she inclines her head upwards and locks eyes with herhusband. His face was a neutral mask of stoicism but his eyes told a differentstory.

He was mad…but even in her drunken state she could see remnants ofamusement in them too.

“What are you doing down there, my love?”

Ariel stares at Liam for a small while and then she grins. “Oh, I’m justplaying Lava with Maxwell. You know…a game…with a few shots of vodka here andthere.”

Liam’s shoulders shake with a low chuckle and he shakes his head. “Ariel…whatam I going to do with you?”

Ariel smiles from her position on the floor. “Uh…maybe take me to bed? Ithink I had a little too much-h to driiink.”

Liam smiles, his blues sparkling with affection before he bends down andscoops his wife into his arms. “Come on, my queen. Let’s get you to bed. Youhave a long day tomorrow.

Ariel smiles, giving Liam a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “That sounds nice.I love youuuu…”

Ariel’s eyes were already slipping shut. She feels the low rumble ofLiam’s laugher against her ear. “I love you too, Ariel.”

***

Ariel awakens, her eyes throbbing and her head pounding. She felt likeshe’d been thumped in the head a few times.

“Ugh!” Ariel groans. “My head…”

Ariel tries to open her eyes but the light against her lids is painfuland she snaps them shut with a hiss.

“Sore head, Ariel?”

Ariel lies back down against her bed and groans. “More like a sorefreaking everything.”

Liam chuckles, leaning down to kiss Ariel’s forehead gently. “I’m sorryto hear that, my love. But unfortunately, duty calls…you have a meeting in an hour withRegina.”

Ariel’s eyes snap open, all thoughts of her pounding headache gone. Inher rush to get out of the bed, her feet tangled up and she falls to thefloor, her arms flailing about.

She lands on the floor with a loud thump. “Geez! Ow.”

Liam’s warm laughter fills their bed chambers and wraps around Arielmaking her shiver. “That’s the second time you’ve done that.”

Ariel pops up from the floor, giving her husband a questioning look. “Secondtime? When was the first time?”

“When you were in the bottom parlor and hiding behind the sofa?”

Ariel brings a hand to her forehead and scratches it in confusion. Theevents of last night all but a blur.

“How drunk was I?”

Liam grins, his eyes crinkling atthe edges with mirth. “Drunk enough to proposition me, strip down to your underwear before passing out.”

Ariel gasps, her head beginning to throb louder. “Oh. Sorry…”

Liam chuckles, running a fingerdown her cheek. “No qualms about that, my sweet. Maybe another time.”

Ariel gives him a sly smirk. “I’llbe holding you to that.”

Liam chuckles, giving her a quickkiss before heading to the doors that lead out of their suite.

“I look forward to it. Oh, andAriel?”

Ariel glances back at her husband. “Yeah?”

“Maybe next time we can play ourown game.”

Ariel gulps. “I––I look forward tothat.”

Liam gives her a wink before slinkingout the door and leaves Ariel to take care of her throbbing headache and the fact that she had to appear sober in front of Regina when in fact she had a killer hangover.

This was going to be a long day,indeed.

#choices trr #the royal romance fanfic #trr drabble #trr writing prompt #choices #choices stories you play #liam x mc #the royal romance #trr #trr short fanfic #choices fandom #long post #aworldoffandoms

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kusunogatari · 5 years

Text

[ ObiRyū October | Day Twenty-Three: Government Conspiracies ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū ] [ Drugs ] [ Verse: Make Ends Meet ] [ Previous || Next ]

She doesn’t regret it at all, but Ryū has to admit...after having given Obito a key to her apartment, she really has no idea what she’ll come home to some days. It’s very rarely anything bad - typically he just shows up and hangs out. Occasionally he’ll be on this drug or another, but it’s only once in a blue moon he’s anything to worry about.

Though once she did come back to find him cooking (or...trying to cook) in her kitchen with no pants on. And...nothing in the pan. Thankfully he’d also missed actually turning the burner on, so he was just grooving and wobbling a pan around - no harm no foul. She even got a few pictures before he realized she was there.

And then...there’s days like today.

She’s actually off a bit early, the clinic having to close after the power grid went down for their block. So after running a few errands with her extra time, Ryū returns to her place and makes her way through the door, doing a customary sweep of the main room in search of Obito.

She finds him, and...well, at first she doesn’t notice anything, calling a greeting and putting her things down in the kitchen. He doesn’t reply, and she figures he’s just up to something, so she sorts through her few groceries before returning to the sitting room.

He’s sat on the couch, legs pulled up and crossed atop the cushions. A throw pillow is hugged tightly to his chest, eyes wide and staring at her unpowered TV. The curtains are all drawn, and...Ryū perks a brow.

“Um...Obito?”

“...huh?”

“You okay?”

Sluggishly, he turns to look to her, clearly a bit slow on the uptake...likely on some substance or another. “...did they see you come in?”

“They? They who?”

“Them.”

“...hun, you’re gonna have to be more specific.”

Wiggling to turn and face her, he whispers, “They’re always watching, Ryū...always watching. They have access to all the cameras…! The traffic cams, security monitors, your cell phone...they see it all!”

“Who?”

“The government, Ryū!”

Before she can stop it, Ryū lets loose a snort.”...did you get lost reading conspiracy theories before you came over here?”

“It’s not a conspiracy, it’s true! You know why you always get ads about things you look up? They know!”

“That’s an algorithm, Obito. Kinda hard to avoid, but...that’s why I block ads. Look...you’re a little worked up, and you just need to chill for a while, okay? You hungry?”

“There’s chemicals in your food, Ryū…”

“Obito, everything is chemicals. It’s how matter works. I’ve got organic chicken, if that makes you feel better.”

He doesn’t really reply, muttering to himself and sinking back into the couch. Doing her best not to giggle at him, Ryū just retreats to the kitchen with a shake of her head, making some food and hoping he’s a bit more calmed down by the time she’s done. She’d turn on the TV, but...that might just freak him out more. Best to give him some peace and quiet for now.

By the time she loads up his plate, he’s looking a bit less dazed, but still refuses to loosen his hold on the pillow he hijacked from the couch, taking it with him to the table. Ryū allows it, seeing no harm (so long as he doesn’t spill anything on it). Chewing a bite and watching him very slowly go through the motions, she asks, “Obito...what did you take before you got here?”

“Take?”

“What are you on right now?”

“Just...some weed. Some new, uh…”

A brow perks. A new strain, is that what he means? Must be hitting him a little harder than usual...but at least she knows that’s nothing to really worry about. “Anything else?”

“...no, no...just...just weed.”

“Okay...good. You can just stay here tonight until you’re sobered up, and...get some sleep, okay?”

“No cameras?”

“...no, Obito. My apartment doesn’t have any cameras.”

“Are you sure…?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I don’t even have a webcam. And my cellphone is off. I’ll even take the battery out if it makes you feel better.” She’ll miss any possible texts, but...if it’s any sort of emergency, those who need it have her landline number.

Once they finish eating, she does up the dishes and sits him back on the couch, putting on some slow music instead of TV for something to listen to. Sitting beside him, she opens her arms, letting him collapse into her hold.

...he still has a death grip on her pillow.

“Next time you’re going to smoke, please don’t read any more government conspiracies, okay? Do that when you’re sober. Otherwise it’s just gonna mess with your head.”

“Okay…”

They sit and snuggle for a while, Ryū almost dozing between the warmth and the quiet music in the background. But eventually Obito wriggles his way out of her grip, mumbling about needing to pee. By that time, she looks to a window and finds it well past dark. It’s not quite bedtime, but she’s never against getting some extra sleep. And she’s already groggy after their stint here on the couch.

When he comes back, she asks, “How are you feeling?”

“Better...I think I’m about out of it. Sorry about, uh...getting weird.”

Ryū just snorts. “I don’t mind. You sure were worried, though.”

“It’s a legitimate concern!”

“I know, I know. I guess I figure I don’t have much to hide.”

“Well I do,” he mutters, earning a giggle.

“Well, look at it this way...if they really do have all of that surveillance, how come they haven’t caught you yet?”

“I dunno. Maybe I’m not a big enough fish yet.”

“Maybe. But I think for now, at least, you don’t have anything to worry about.” Giving him a sleepy smile, she asks, “Still want to stay the night, or would you rather head home?”

“...I can stay. Not sure I’m good enough to walk home yet. And I want to stay, anyway.”

“That’s just fine with me,” Ryū agrees with a grin. Settling her apartment down for the night, she slips into her nightgown and flops into bed with a sigh. “Hopefully the power’s back up at work tomorrow…”

“It went out?”

“Yeah, some weird electrical thing...I don't know enough about it, but the whole block was out. I got out early and ran some errands, and then...found you tripping out on my couch.”

Obito hums, slipping into the other side of the bed. “Did they give an estimation?”

“Not that I heard, no. I’ll text someone in the morning and see what’s up. Maybe I’ll get a day off! Could use the money but...day off…”

That gets him to snort. “Quite the dilemma,” he murmurs, wriggling around a bit to get comfortable as he snags her in his grip.

“What about you? Anything lined up in the morning?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Okay...well you can hang out after I leave if you want. But I’ll probably still have work, if I had to guess.”

There’s another hum of agreement, and she can tell the conversation is over. Settling down, Ryū hums contentedly, greys closing and soon drifting off to sleep.

This is...super random, and sadly a lot shorter than usual, but I just...can't think of anything else to add, lol - I've averaged over 2300 words each, but this one's only about 1200, RIP ANYWAY More modern verse! I vaguely remember a short cracky thread we had about this AAAGES ago (which was technically in canon, I think?) where Obito was paranoid about being watched while high...that might've actually been before the ship sailed...I can't quite remember. But I thought it'd be neat to revisit, lol Buuut yeah, that's all I got for tonight - my brain's been mush for ages so I need to get some sleep! Thanks for reading~

#obiryū october #abyssaldespair #uchiha obito #suigin ryū #drugs //#make ends meet [ au ]

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happytroopers · 6 years

Text

Why Did it Have to be Me?

pt. 4

As promised: more Fives content :))

wanna read the whole series?

As much as you wanted to sleep, it was hard in a stuffy, overcrowded room with performers coming and going periodically- you tossed and turned four hours only managing to doze. When a group of chatty pa’lowicks (including Sy Snootles who Keehla had a strong distaste for) made the bunks their gossipping grounds, you decided sleep wasn’t worth it- or at least not there.

In a huff, you quickly abandoned your bed to search for something to eat. Though your ankles still ached from the platforms, your flowy shirt and comfy shorts definitely looked more natural for meandering around the halls- or at least more so than the heels and costumes you performed in. Seeing the cafeteria at the end of the long corridor, you could see the cleaning-droid crew locking the door behind them as they closed down for the night or morning-- whatever time it was.

“No! Wait! Open up!” You yelled, now sprinting past people, “Waiitt! It’s not too late!”

All your pleas got was a disgruntled mouse droid ramming your ankle. You hissed, slightly kicked the bot away, glaring at as it beeped indignantly before it sped away. Huffing you looked through the windows into the cafeteria as it was being cleaned, not noticing the trooper walk up behind him.

“Here I thought I was supposed to be the one scrapping droids.” You heard a voice snicker. Turning around slowly, you rolled your eyes but smiled regardless at the sight of Fives.

“Please, I barely tapped it.” You crossed arms over your chest, tossing your hair over your shoulder. Fives chuckled, looking past you into the cafeteria, but you just continued, “I really wanted to get in there, my roommates are terrible .”

“Little late for dinner… or is it just too early for breakfast? Either way, it’ll be open again tomorrow.” He shrugged, taking a ration bar around of a pocket of his belt before continuing his walk down the corridor. If it wasn’t for the growl of your stomach, you would have left him alone. But you were hungry, and the alternative was going back to the bunks- you shivered remembering Sy Snootles changing clothes as you left. You decided to pursue the ARC trooper, double-timing it to catch up with his slow saunter.

“Righhht, but you know…” You drawled, swinging yourself around so you were in front of him, walking backward, “What would be great- today, not tomorrow- was if someone… maybe even in this hallway- there was a guy-”

Fives nodded, interrupting you, “Young, strong, tall, dashingly handsome?”

You laughed aloud, rolling your eyes, “Probably passable… buuut he has snacks!”

The soldier breathed a laugh, but disregarded your comment and continued playing along, snapping his fingers as if he had an epiphany, “And he has a private place when you could share these said snacks!”

You nodded thoughtfully, inching a little closer, “So maybe he could help me out?”

Punctuating your question with a hopeful smile, and he lit up with a grin as he answered, “He’d love to!”

Unfortunately, he continued with a frown, “But the sad fact is, that was my last ration bar, and I also have a bunk full of troopers. I was just saying that to impress you.”

With that news, your shoulders slumped, stopping your backward stride. Laughing slightly, you waved him off before beginning to turn away, “Okay.”

Before you could get far though, he laughed brightly and grabbed your wrist, admitting, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! C’mon, I’ve got somewhere we can go.”

Minutes later, Fives led you into what you assumed were his quarters and tossed you a ration bar and bottle of water. You had to admit, his bright smile and hilarious jokes made it easy to be around the Arc trooper. He kept you on your toes, but never once made you feel uncomfortable. You found yourself laughing more than ever, usually teasing him when he would be overly flirty- but that never stopped him.

“Now there are two beds, buuut as you can see.” He did a sweeping motion of the second bed which was covered in cargo boxes, datapads, folded sets of underclothes, and other miscellaneous items, “Is unfortunately rather full.”

You looked up at him with a quirked eyebrow and wicked grin, “Hmm, how convenient.”

Turning on your heel, you traced a fingernail across his armored chest with another smile as you walked away towards the other bed. You didn’t have anywhere specific to go, but regardless, Fives stopped you before you got far.

“You have one of those smiles that makes the whole galaxy smile back.” He mused, interlacing his fingers with yours. “Lucky this trip isn’t long enough for you to break my fragile heart.”

He almost looked dumbfounded when you doubled over laughing, taking your hand from him you spun around, moving to the cabin’s window. “Ohhhh, I get it. You’re one of them.”

The Arc trooper snapped his neck over to you, looking at you quizzically, “wh-wha-one of who?!”

You took a deep breath, rolling your head to the side to look at him out of the corner of your eye, “There are two types of seducer. The first doesn’t actually care about women- so therefore wants to assert their power and dominance over them.”

You paused to make sure he was listening; he was with raised eyebrows. With a playful eye roll, you flipped your hair over your shoulder before continuing, “But the second and farrr more dangerous- is the guy who genuinely falls in love every night, only to fall out of love the next morning.”

You stopped for a moment, moving so you sat on the bed. Before putting on a sugary sweet, exaggerated voice, you nodding your head as you went, “And as you leave, you tell her ‘you’re the one in pain and she’s just too much for you to handle’.”

Fives laughed, loud and bold, and placed an arm around your shoulder, “I’m an ARC trooper, I can handle anything.”

Suddenly, he grabbed your wrist and spun you towards him, chuckling at your little yelp. With him slightly behind you, he began.

“When you were lonely, you needed a man

Someone to lean on, well I understand”

The ARC trooper propped his chin on your shoulder, but as soon as you looked at him switched sides to the rhythm.

“It's only natural

But why did it have to be me?”

“Oh just like that, huh?” You chuckled, scooting away from him the more he inched towards you. Laughing loudly when he wiggled his eyebrows at you. You shoved his shoulder, but it didn’t deter him.

“Nights can be empty and nights can be cold

So you were looking for someone to hold”

Fives jumped up so fast, he almost fell over, but he ignored your teasing remarks as he picked up his helmet and rolled it along his arms before popping it on and jumping on top of a cargo crate that was propped against the far wall.

“That's only natural

But why did it have to be me?”

You rolled your eyes as he took off his helmet, propping it on his hip. But looking at those brown puppy eyes, you decided to indulge him,

“I was so lonesome, I was blue

I couldn't help it, it had to be you and I

Always thought you knew the reason why”

Giggling, you jumped onto the crate beside him and snatched the helmet out of his hand. Giggling when he almost fell over, you propped his helmet on one of your hips, rolling it to the other side to the beat. You didn’t fail to notice the hitch in his breath as you did this.

“I only wanted a little love affair

Now I can see you are beginning to care

But baby, believe me

It's better to forget me”

Tossing the helmet squarely at his chest, he easily caught it as you stepped down. He followed suit, but laughed when he caught you by the wrist (once again). You yelped involuntarily as he dipped you low enough your hair grazed the floor.

Several systems away, in a Republic warzone, Dogma held the letter you had written him in his hand. In the barracks, the scent of your perfume was a relief, but it was quickly fading. He had returned to your apartment to say goodbye, only to find you had already gone. Looking up at the bustling camp, he watched his brothers go about their regular routines- but all he could think of was the wild girl from 79’s.

“Men are the toys in the game that you play

When you get tired, you throw them away

That's only natural

But why did it have to be me?”

Fives was in a similar predicament, not being able to take his eyes off you for even a second as the two of you danced around the room, laughing and giggling every moment. Once you pulled away from him, you went to the cluttered bed.

“Falling in love with a woman like you

Happens so quickly, there's nothing to do”

You would pick something up and hand it to Fives, but he would only pass it behind you and put it back on the bed with a mischievous smirk. It took a little bit for you to realize the bed wasn’t getting any less cluttered, but finally, you caught on. Turning to smack Fives’ arm before loading a heap onto his waiting arms. With a shrug, he dumped the object into a pile in the corner.

“It's only natural

Why did it have to be me?”

You gave him a look, crossing your arms over your chest, “We only just met.”

“And you’re not that kind of girl?” He joked, quirking an eyebrow. You smacked his arm.

“Absolutely not.” You affirmed, but revised your statement. “Not usually.”

Shaking his head with a small smile, Fives inched closer, you closed your eyes, and he leaned down, but his lips only brushed yours when something whistled loudly- startling you away from him. You raking your fingers through your hair, your face flushed, “What was that?”

Fives quickly tried regaining the situation, cupping your cheeks in his hands, “Nothing, nothing. Probably just a droid in the hallway. It’s only natural, but why did it have to be-”

Once again he was interrupted by the whistling chirp. He sighed, stepping away from you, answering the commlink on his wrist with a sharp tone, “Echo, what is it?”

“We need you down in the East hangar now. We got a bounty hunter and a small troop of droids. Private security teams are guarding all high-class guests.” His partner’s voice was no-nonsense, and you could see Fives immediately switch gears.

“I’m on my way.” With that, he clicked the transmitter off. You quickly handed him his helmet as he turned to you. “Stay here. Don’t answer the door. Everything will be fine.”

And with a wink, he was gone. And even though you were technically in a warzone, you knew he was right. Knowing everything would be fine, you curled up on the extra bed- not even realizing you had closed your eyes,

Fives wandered back to his room a few hours later. The droids had been mopped up rather easily- they later find out that the droids had been reprogrammed by the bounty hunter. The hunter herself put up quite a fight, killing one trooper and actually managing to crack Echo’s visor before she was stunned. All in all, it was mostly just a headache.

When he entered his quarters, he was almost surprised to find you had listened to him. He thought about waking you up and continuing your dance. But you looked so serene (and he knew it’d be a dick move), he decided to leave you be after brushing some hair out of your face and tossing a blanket over you. Smiling softly at you for a moment, Fives then moved to take off his armor before climbing into bed himself.

Staring at the ceiling, Fives couldn't say much for the future, but he was positive he’d still feel the same way about you tomorrow.

sorry for all the gifs :)

#mamma mia!AU #fives x reader

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goldenchildkatsuki · 6 years

Note

For the kacchako drabble, how about some fluffy kacchako bonding time involving Bakugou's love for mountain climbing and Uraraka's love for starry skies?

Again, it took me a while buuut it’s done!

Summary: Uraraka works at a respectable organisation as a scientist at it’s lab. She has been working there for a year but has recently started to feel herself fading into the background. With this given assignment of writing a report on a meteor shower she feels like this is her chance to prove herself to her superiors. But the report is not coming along as nicely as she hoped. Luckily a co-workers is willing to help her out.

Writers note: I asked on Tumblr to send a cliché fanfiction trope in my ask box and I would make a decent Kacchako drabble out of it. This is for the fifth ask I received.

Word count: 4.651

AO3 link: (x)

THE APRIL LYRIDS

Urarakalifted her glasses and rubbed the moisture off her nose with her index fingers.She went up to rub her eyes to fight the fatigue that was trying to subdue her.Clearly, she needed another cup of coffee if she intended to continue workingon the report. But she already had about three cups, she knew from pasts grindsessions that the fourth one would carry her far beyond her fatigue and shewould start getting anxious.

She wasanxious enough as it is as the report wasn’t coming along as nicely as shethought it was. And to think she was more than excited when her superior askedher to write about the upcoming meteor shower. Now she couldn’t wait until themoment she could hand it in. In reality, she was the one who made theexperience unbearable by wanting it to be one of the best reports possible.

Urarakacould feel herself fading in the background at her workplace, lately she hadbeen given small assignments and been assigned to do boring paper work. Shehadn’t cared much about being employee of the month at the lab, but she stillwanted to be noticed. Like everyone else she wanted praise and recognition, toprove that she’s a valuable asset to the lab. She loved her job so much and thethought of her being fired for not bringing anything useful to the table scaredher.

The meteorshower report felt like a lifeline from her superiors, a last chance to proveshe’s a capable scientist that deserved to be there as much as any other personat the lab. Uraraka was in luck that it was a subject she was genuinelyinterested in and fascinated by, but to her disappointment that hadn’t made itwriting the report that much easier.

At firstwriting went alright, she managed to write a few pages that she was more thanhappy with but now she was at a loss for words. She had been for three days.Uraraka had come to the conclusion that forcing herself to write wasn’t goingto get her anywhere.

Tomorrownight the meteor shower would occur. Though they had the technology to witnessand analyze it in the comforts of her own workspace, she wanted to actually seeit. Experience it. Uraraka was convinced it would fuel her brain withinspiration and she would be able to hand in a report the superiors would say‘sir’ to. But also that was easier said than done.

“Roughnight?” someone behind her asked.

Urarakarubbed the sleep sand from her fingers and pushed her glasses in her hair asshe turned her chair around.

He stoodthere with his lab coat on, laptop bag in one hand and keys in the other.Uraraka couldn’t make out if he was meant to be sympathetic or sarcastic sinceit was hard to tell with this particular guy. The expression on his facecouldn’t tell her much either since he was, like her, extremely exhausted.

Urarakasighed. “I guess you can say that.”

The guylooked at her desk that was filled with candy bars wrappers, textbooks andfiles. In that moment Uraraka felt very judged by him. She knew he was probablyfrowning upon her. His desk was always clean and organized after all. He neverseemed to have a writers block or run into much difficulties when doing hiswork. His reports were always a pleasure to read, a real eye opener, as if hewas a scientist with at least ten years of experience had written it. He wasemployee of the month material.

“Can I helpyou?” Uraraka broke the silence.

Thescientist lifted his eyebrows. She wouldn’t be surprised if he felt offended bythat, seeing as he never needed anyone’s help. He merely needed favors from hiscoworkers and nothing more than that. Uraraka believed that she hadn’t seen himwork with anyone since he stopped being an intern at the lab.

“I’m aboutto close off.” He spun the keyring around his finger.

Uraraka satthere blinking at him as she waited for him to continue speaking.

He tiltedhis head and started frowning at her.

“Oh right!Y-you want me t-to pack up.”

Thescientist rolled his eyes. “And fast, if my head doesn’t hit my pillow in thenext hour I’m going to go fucking insane.”

Urarakalooked at her computer screen and stared at a blank word document that wassupposed to be filled with possible locations to view the meteor shower. Shecould feel him get more impatient with every second she looked at the screen.

Eventuallyshe turned back to him. “Can I have ten more minutes please? Ten more minutesand I’ll be done.”

A loudgroan came from the scientist’s mouth. “Right, I wasn’t born yesterday. When ascientist says it’ll only take ten minutes it will at least take three hours.Just pack your shit and work at home.”

Urarakaknew she could easily do that, that’s what almost all of her coworkers did. Assoon as it hit eight o’clock, they would have had their things packed alreadyand ready to clock out. She couldn’t afford to work at home, there were toomany distractions and the atmosphere didn’t feel right. Besides she couldn’ttake the risk of being at home and not being able to continue her work becauseshe needed something from the lab. Therefore she made all of her reports andassignments at her workplace.

“I canclose off if you want!”

“As if. I’mone of the few people around here they trust with the key.”

“No need tobrag.” Uraraka said under her breathe.

Thescientist groaned again and made his way over to her and put his hand on herlaptop, attempting to close it. Uraraka went to grab his wrist and stopped him.

“Tenminutes.” She practically begged him.

He seemedto be taken aback by Uraraka’s touch and didn’t try to force his hand down. Helooked her in the eye, tried to figure out what switched in her. His stare wasso intense that it was hard for Uraraka to maintain the eye contact. He musthave noticed she started to lose the confidence she spoke to him with secondsago and broke eye contact. He looked over her shoulder at the sprawled outliterature and documents.

“What areyou working on that’s so important anyway?”

“Well, uh,I…” Before Uraraka could find the words to describe the project and distresshow important it was he reached over her shoulder to pick up one of hernotebooks.

“Hey!”

Thescientist turned away from her before she could snatch it out of his hand andstarted flipping through the pages.

“So youmust be the girl that writes those half decent astronomy reports huh?”

He turnedaround the notebook to it’s front. “Uraraka Ochako?”

Urarakacouldn’t help but blush when he said her name. Did he really say that herreports were half decent? ‘Half decent’ didn’t sound like the nicest of thingsbut going of his reputation, it was the nicest thing he could say in his case.Seeing as he was by far the best employees the company had the luxury ofhaving, his words meant as much to her as a compliment from a superior.

He flippedthrough the notebook some more. “You should teach some of these dimwits herehow to write reports then we could finally make some god damn advancementsaround here.”

Urarakafelt her cheeks getting even more color and took her glasses of her face. Shepretended to wipe away a smudge off with her coat.

“Like yousaid, they’re not the best so-“

“No,they’re definitely not the best. I said they were half decent, and that’s goodenough. At least better than the crap I’ve read before.”

“Thankyou.” Uraraka practically whispered. She looked at the name tag on his coat.“Thank you, Bakugou.”

He scoffed.“What’re you thanking me for? It’s not like you didn’t know yourself, it’sobvious.”

Bakugouthrew her notebook back on her desk and leaned against it. “I didn’t knowatmospheric sciences were your thing too.”

Urarakaopened her mouth to explain how it was merely an interest and that it wasn’texactly ‘a thing of hers’ but he interrupted her.

“Theupcoming meteor shower…They originally assigned me to do a report on that butthe higher ups gave it to someone else instead.”

Urarakaswallowed.

“And Iwondered ‘since when was there someone out of all these idiots that couldexecute this better than me?’ but now I see.”

She had noidea, that the superiors had put that much faith in her. This made her supposedlast chance weigh even heavier than it already did. Uraraka felt the pressurein her chest when realizing this and hearing Bakugou’s menacing tone of voice.Of course he would be pissed, she knew the feeling of someone losing faith inyou all too well. She couldn’t really compare the two instances but maybe ifshe showed that she could relate a tiny bit he wouldn’t lash out in now andabout three seconds.

“You betternot fuck this up or the superiors won’t be pleased.”

Crap.Uraraka just knew that he would go and lay complain with them, boasting how hewas more fitted to do the report after all. Who knew how far that couldescalate. He could threaten to leave if they kept underestimating him, therewere tons of companies that have tried to offer him higher functions and moremoney, but he decided to keep on working here instead. Or worse he could laycomplain about her, possibly get her fired. Even though they had the samefunction and status, she knew damn well who the superiors valued more out ofthe two of them.

The bestthing she thought to do was to be honest with him. “Actually. I’m trying notto…mess this up. I had a good idea but I don’t know if it’s going to work.”Uraraka pulled at a loose thread of her skirt. “I’ve done a good bit ofresearch but I haven’t that much further and-“

Bakugouopened her laptop and bumped Uraraka with chair and all to the side. Hecrouched down and started scrolling through her document. Uraraka tried toretrieve her laptop back and he fought her off with a single hand, casually hecontinued reading and nodded with every page he scanned through. When hefinished, he closed the laptop and shoved it back to her.

“I know aplace.”

Uraraka’seyes lit up. “You do?”

“You shouldbe able to see the shower perfectly fine from the place that I have in mind.”Bakugou looked at the ceiling as if he imagined himself being on that exactspot.

QuicklyUraraka took a scrap of paper and a pen from the pocket on her lab coat.

“Themountains a couple of miles away from town.”

“A coupleof miles? It’s actually quite a drive.”

Bakugoucrossed his arms and glared at Uraraka. She put her pen in front of her lipsand shushed herself.

Hecontinued. “After a bit of hiking, you climb to one of the highest peaks, youcan set up a camp there and capture some high quality shit.”

Uraraka perkedup. “Excuse me, did you just say climb? C-L-I-M-B? I have never climbedanything besides a tree before. How am I supposed to learn how to climb amountain in a day? Oh, this is hopele-“

“I’m comingwith you, you nervous wreck.” He loudly cut off her rambling.

Urarakablinked at him.

“Listen. Judgingof how desperate you have been sounding this whole time, you would’ve goneregardless. If you did, you would’ve probably fell and died and that would beon me. That wouldn’t exactly look good on my record would it?”

Urarakatwisted her face. “Really, that’s what it’s all about? Your record? Not abouthogging all the praise if I deliver a good report or anything?”

“Ohplease.” Bakugou spurted. “I don’t need to take credit for anyone’s work lady.”

Urarakastood up, put her laptop in her laptop bag and handed Bakugou’s his.

“You knowwhat? Forget about it.” She walked past him but immediately got pulled back bythe collar of her coat.

“Fuck, whatelse do you want me to say? That I wouldn’t mind seeing the meteor shower too?That I genuinely don’t want a stupid coworker to fall to their fucking death?”

Urarakadidn’t want to turn around, imagining that this situation was alreadyuncomfortable enough, especially for Bakugou. Also, she didn’t want him to seeher beet red face. She could barely believe what came out of Bakugou Katsuki’smouth. If she would tell anyone, they would laugh at her. She couldn’t decideif this was out of character for him or that he was just a part of him rarelyanyone saw. Uraraka didn’t know him well enough to judge.

Bakugou letgo off her collar and walked to the exit.

“In thatcase, then come with me please.”

Bakugoustopped for a second. “Let’s go.”

Togetherthey existed the lab and walked onto the parking lot, which was empty bar theircars.

“Make sureyou get equipment from the lab and I’ll take care of the gear. I’ll e-mail youthe exact location and time.” Bakugou said as he stepped into his car. “Don’tbe late.” He started his engine and before Uraraka could thank him again orwish him goodnight, he backed out of his parking spot and drove off.

Urarakawatched him until she couldn’t see his rearlights anymore before stepping intoher own car and driving home as well. To her it was crazy. How someone she hadlooked up to but was secretly a little bit afraid of was now going to help herwith an assignment that was supposed to be his to save herself from fading intothe background of the team.

She wasvery happy nonetheless. Bakugou had surprised her, but more in good ways thanbad. Uraraka hoped that he would remain semi-civil towards her.

The nextday all of Uraraka’s rather positive view on things disappeared. It had startedout pretty chaotic by her waking up way too late since she forgot to set heralarm because she fell asleep as soon as she got in bed. She also spent toomuch time on, looking at the weather forecast, deciding what to bring to themountains, finding the right equipment in the lab. As if her day couldn’t getany worse, Uraraka opened Bakugou’s e-mail during the middle of her day and hadgrossly underestimated the time it would take her to get to the exact location.

So Bakugougot greeted twenty minutes late by an Uraraka with the most drained look on herface. She struggled up the hill with all her equipment stuffed into a travelbackpack she purchased that day, glasses sliding of her face and panting as ifshe had just run a marathon.

“You’re notgoing on a three day vacation you know?” Bakugou mocked her.

Urarakatook her time putting the lab’s equipment down. She shot up and fixed her hairand readjusted her glasses as soon as everything safely made it to the ground.“This is all necessary!”

Bakugoupointed at her. “You forgot a few necessities.”

Urarakalooked down and saw she was still wearing her work clothes. She took a look atBakugou who was appropriately dressed to the T, a backpack strapped tightly tohim and wearing hiking shoes that have definitely been put to use more thanjust a couple of times.

“I’ll driveback as fast as I can, I swear, I think I can avoid the traffic if I leavenow!”

Bakugoushook his head. “You’re actually such a fucking mess. Of course we don’t haveti- Okay, first of all; you have to ditch the coat. Second of all; for the loveof God repack your bag, we’re going nowhere with that. And lastly; prepareyourself.”

He sat downon a log and fumbled with his watch. “I’ll give you ten.”

Urarakafelt like she was at military boot camp. He didn’t even give her time toexplain why things were going wrong already. The last thing she wanted was forBakugou to lose respect for her, since it was so hard to gain in the firstplace.

She steppedinto the adventure with a rather sour attitude but as soon as they startedhiking she felt herself getting a little merrier. Though she had a love fornature and was so fascinated with it that she made it her job, she hadn’t beenindulging in it as much as she wanted to. There was a park she liked walkingthrough, but that was middle in the city so that barely could be called realnature.

“Do youcome here often?” Uraraka asked.

Bakugoufrowned. “Did you just…”

“What? No,that’s not what I was going for! It was a genuine question.”

“Hm.”

The firstattempt of a conversation and it’s already taking a turn for the worse. Urarakaknows Bakugou doesn’t mind talking, but in this case he minded talking to her.But with Bakugou given her no indication for how long they had to hike for, shecouldn’t stay walking in silence with him.

“So do youcome here alone or with family?”

“None ofyour business.”

“Well it’snot, but it’s not like it’s a secret or anything right?”

Bakugoucontinued marching without answering.

“Right.”Uraraka sighed.

Justbecause he thought her reports were half decent and wanted to help her outdoesn’t mean he exactly wanted to be buddy-buddy with her. Uraraka waited beforeshe made another attempt at making herself comfortable by bombarding Bakugouwith questions. He looked so focused after all. Bakugou looked more investedinto the hike than anyone should be.

He had agood pace and barely broke a sweat, as if he walked the trail every day. Whichit did look like, it was almost ridiculous how much a lab coat could hideBakugou’s athletic form. It’s like he came straight out of those outdoormagazines that dad’s like to read. Uraraka tried hard not to stare as she triedto figure out where all of him had been hiding the whole time. Nerves rushedthrough her body every time he checked up on her, thinking he had caught herstaring.

A sight ofa flowering rapeseed took her attention away from him. She walked of the trailand crouched besides it.

“I can’tbelieve they’re starting to flower already! The year’s going so fast.” She saidas her finger followed the curve of the small petals.

“They tendto flower here early, later in the season this whole area is colored yellow,it’s almost stupid.” Bakugou said. “Such an underrated vegetable, people don’tknow a good thing when they see one.”

Uraraka wassurprised by a suddenly talkative Bakugou.

“I can’twait to cook them again.” Uraraka was barely upright again when Bakugou went totug on the handle of her backpack. He continued walking and dragged her alongwith him.

“Listen,let me blow your fucking mind with this rapeseed recipe. They way you’ve beencooking them before, erase that from your memory and make room for thegreatness I’m about to tell you.”

Urarakasmiled as she tried to not fall over her feet and turn back around. A singlerapeseed had sent a distant Bakugou into overdrive, talking about othermountain vegetables and how to cook them, flowers and other wildlife that couldbe found on the mountain and how good the citizens in the area treated thispiece of nature. Bakugou liked sharing information, but not personalinformation. Uraraka was slowly finding out how he ticked, she started to likeit.

The sun hadfallen when they reached the rock they wanted to climb and geared up. Urarakagot worried when seeing all the confusing gear sprawled out on the floor. Shedidn’t think she could mentally prepare herself enough for something like this.Bakugou however was actually getting excited as he geared up. With ease he tiedand clicked everything into place.

He noticedUraraka had stepped into the harness but was lost on what to do next.

“It’s goingto be all me from this point huh?”

Bakugouwalked up to her and tugged at the strap at her waist, pulling her right intohis personal space. He was so close his hair tickled her forehead, so closethat she could feel his body warmth. Uraraka turned her head to the side as he tightened her harness.

“Is thattight enough?” Bakugou asked.

“Mhm.” shesqueaked.

With hisfinger he went under the straps and pulled on them do a final check. Hecontinued to tie a rope on to her harness and tugged her in every time shetried to lean back to create more space. Bakugou secured the knot with a finalpull and stepped back. He scanned her from head to toe twice before taking offhis plaid shirt he had wrapped around his waist.

“I’m nothaving you freeze to death either.”

He threwthe shirt on her head without warning. As if Uraraka had never seen a plaidshirt before she took it from her head and hesitantly put it on. Immediately itstarted to slouch from her shoulders and cover her knuckles. She buttoned theshirt up and started to feel cozy. It was silly how much she actually neededthis comfort. Though she chatted and even laughed with Bakugou a lot during thehike, it was still a hike, a long one, that had definitely left a few blisterson her feet. Since the hardest part was yet to come, something as simple as theoversized shirt of an admirable coworker was more than enough to lift herspirits a little.

“Climbingwith load on you is not exactly recommended but we don’t have a choice here.”Bakugou put his own bag on at the front and took Uraraka’s bag from her. “Let’sgo.”

“What?Right now? But what about helmets, other protection, you can at least give atutorial!” Uraraka started to panic.

Bakugouwalked towards the rock and looked to the top. “It’s a short climb.”

Urarakacocked her head.

“Even forbeginners.” Bakugou continued. “Have some fucking faith will ya? I’m tellingyou I’m going to make sure we’re fine. Just follow my lead.”

Bakugoutook the flashlight out of his pocket and shined it on the rock, illuminatingpossible routes to climb. It didn’t take him long to choose one of the dozensof options. Uraraka watched him climb the first meters of the chosen route, hishand easily found pieces of rock to hold on to and he pulled himself up as ifhe barely weighed anything.

He attachedpoints of protection at the creases of the rock.

“Startclimbing!” He yelled down.

Urarakaplaced her hands on the rock and shivers went down her spine. She looked up atBakugou that was looking up at the route. After a while he noticed the ropebeneath him wasn’t moving and he looked down. He hung his head and then cuppedhis mouth with his hand.

“Pullyourself up. Right, now put your left hand there. Yeah like that, now put yourfeet on that little ledge. You see that there? Yeah, see we’re fine.”

Urarakaconcentrated on Bakugou’s voice and very much needed instructions. Whenclimbing she felt stupid for freezing at the bottom like that. She didn’t haveto be scared to put her faith in him, Bakugou was helping her out like he saidhe would.

“Right footthere. No! Little bit to the left. Don’t forget about your other foot. We’refine alright?”

They werefine. She felt herself getting the hang of it, placing her hands and feetbefore Bakugou’s even finished talking. Slowly she was starting to breathenormally again, she ogled at the city lights that shined far away, making wayfor the stars that gracefully dressed the dark night sky. Uraraka was startingto enjoy herself.

Bakugou wasenjoying himself too. She saw him smile every time he clicked his flashlighton. He looked kind of beautiful.

“Told youto have some faith.” Bakugou boasted as he pulled Uraraka up by her hand.

She lookedaround the top of the mountain and it took her breath away. The city lights hadcompletely faded away and the stars looked closer than ever, the moonilluminated the top like a spotlight on a stage in a theatre and lit upBakugou’s face. The shade of blue complimented his amber eyes perfectly shecouldn’t stop thinking as he looked at her.

“You shouldstart setting up, we’re getting close the shower’s peak activity.” Bakugoubroke the moment of complete silence. He put their bags down and laid down inthe short grass with his limbs sprawled out.

Urarakapinched herself in her leg to bring herself back to earth. It was time for herto stop dreaming and get serious. She unpacked her bag and got out the cameraand it’s lens. She checked the battery and the memory card and all was good. Itwas shame she couldn’t bring a tripod but her steady hands would have to do fornow.

“This islooking good and all but I feel like there’s something missing.” Bakugou said.

Urarakatook a few test shots of the sky. “If you’re talking about radio observing thenI’ve got that covered. I’ve set it up a few days ago and Yaomomo is checkingthe activity for me tonight.” She nonchalantly replied.

“You reallyaren’t fucking about are you?”

Urarakatook a picture of Bakugou. “You can say that yeah.”

Bakugoupointed at her. “If you keep looking over here you’re going to miss out.”

She turnedaround a saw the first bit of debris flying across the sky, leaving it’silluminous tail in the sky for only a couple of seconds. Uraraka propped up herknee and adjusted the settings a little bit more. She steadied the camera onher knee and took dozens of pictures every time a meteor flew by.

The top wassilent except for the shuttering of the camera and the cool breeze thatoccasionally blew by. Uraraka had never felt more in her element. Finally shewas going to genuinely know what she was on about when writing. This was by farone of the best things of being a scientist. Experiences like that.

Urarakalooked up from her lens when she heard the sound of gravel behind her. Bakugoucame up behind her and adjusted his shirt, putting it back over her shouldersand sat down besides her.

“And?” heasked.

“This isamazing, I think I have a lot of good shots. I can’t wait to pick them outtomorrow.”

“No, youdork.” He gently pushed Uraraka by leaning against her. “I meant to ask if you’vemade a wish yet.”

Urarakalaughed as she sat upright again and steadied the camera on her knee again. “Andyou’re calling me a dork? No, I haven’t made on yet.” She said.

She turnedto him and smiled. “I know what I would wish for though. What about you?”

Bakugoukept looking straight ahead. “It would wish for you to get more assignmentsthat you would have to climb mountains for.”

“I know howto climb them now though.”

“No, youdon’t.”

“Oh I thinkI can but I could always use a little company.”

#jj writes #writing prompt #kacchako #bakuraka #bakugou x uraraka #uraraka x bakugou #kacchako fic #kacchako fanfic #kacchako fanfiction #bakugou #bakugou katsuki #uraraka #uraraka ochako #bnha #boku no hero #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia

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pastaraa-blog · 6 years

Text

Even With The Enemy (Ch.2/?)

SUMMARY: A series of dead bodies turn up in Seoul and Inspector Min Yoongi is assigned to the case. The police are quick to assume that it’s a serial killer running loose but Yoongi has other ideas. There’s more to this case than meets the eye.

PAIRING: Kim Taehyung | V / Min Yoongi | Suga

!!WARNING for graphic depictions of violence!!

Also on AO3

CHAPTER 2 - JIMIN AND HANSUNG

Lee Jung In. 35 years old. His body was found in a back alley at 2 a.m. on Sunday. He had five stab wounds – one on each leg, one on each hand, and one on the chest, which directly pierced his heart and ultimately killed him.

Kim Byung Ho. 36 years old. His body was found floating on a river at 11 a.m. on Tuesday. He had multiple lacerations on his torso and back and exactly eight stab wounds, three of which hit major arteries and caused severe bleeding. He died from blood loss.

Kim Hyun Woo. 38 years old. His body was found in a ditch at 10 p.m. on Friday. His body had the most physical trauma among the three victims and showed clear signs of torture. All of his fingers had been broken and all of his nails had been removed. He had broken ribs, multiple lacerations and stab wounds, and a head injury likely caused by a blunt object. The cause of his death was a collapsed lung resulting from a stab wound on the chest.

All three bodies had traces of two chemical substances, one was designed to render the victims unconscious while the other one was a slow-acting poison that caused paralysis.

All three victims were members of the Baeksaja, a gang notorious for dealing in drug trafficking and the sex trade behind their ‘legal’ business of owning clubs in the red light district.

Yoongi closed the folder and leaned back in his chair. He looked at the clock on his wall and saw that it was half past midnight. He was probably the only one left at the station. He had been so absorbed in reading the file, he had lost track of time.

It had been a while since Yoongi came across a case as troublesome as this. All three victims were known gang members and undoubtedly had their share of enemies so narrowing it down was going to be difficult. The use of similar chemicals suggested that the crimes had been committed either by the same person or a group of people who had contact with each other. If it was a group, it could be the work of a rival gang like Yoongi guessed earlier, however, based on the reports, Yoongi was more inclined to think that the murders were committed by the same person.

According to the autopsy, several of the victims’ stab wounds were of near-identical sizes, indicating that at least one similar knife had been used on all three of them. Unless gangs were now giving out standard-issue knives to all their members, these near-identical stab wounds could mean that the knife used on all three victims may have been owned by one person.

A knock on the door interrupted Yoongi’s thoughts. He muttered a quick ‘come in’ and the door opened, revealing Namjoon.

“Hey, I’m planning to head out soon,” Namjoon said, “Are you going to stay here?”

Yoongi stretched his hands above his head and yawned. “Nah, I’m heading out with you.” He got up from his chair and gathered his things. “I’m done for tonight. This case you’ve given me has tired me out.”

“So I guess you’ve finished reading all of it?” Namjoon had the audacity to look apologetic after piling such a taxing case on Yoongi’s lap. “What do you think?”

“You couldn’t wait until tomorrow? I thought you said you were heading out.”

“Nothing comprehensive. Just your initial thoughts. I’d like to hear them while it’s fresh on your mind.”

Yoongi decided to give in. Denying Namjoon was difficult enough when he wasn’t bone weary. “I think our perp is just one person,” he said, “and this is more of a hunch right now but, judging by how the method of killing became bloodier and more gruesome with each victim, I think this was the work of someone with a personal vendetta. Either that or our perp is simply a sadistic bastard.”

“Hmm…” Namjoon nodded, “I thought the same thing, actually. Though you’re correct, it’s just a hunch right now, which is why I wanted you to take a look at the case. Hearing you say the same thing validates my initial assumptions.”

“As flattered as I am to hear that you value my opinion that much, my brain cells are pretty much dead right now. Can we save this conversation for later?” It was just as well that Namjoon and Yoongi had a friendly relationship. If this were anyone else, Yoongi would be receiving a stern reprimand for daring to talk to his superior officer in such a manner.

“Ah, sorry. I almost got carried away there. We should both get some rest. I have a feeling we’re going to have a long day tomorrow,” Namjoon stopped to look at his watch, “Or should I say, later today.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Dried leaves cracked under Jimin’s shoes as he trudged along the busy streets of Seoul. He tugged at his scarf and pulled his jacket tighter. It was nearing the end of October and the temperature had already dropped too much for his liking. Winter was going to be such a pain this year.

“Yo, Park Jimin!” A man on the street bellowed, catching the attention of bystanders. Jimin recognized the deep voice – would recognize it anywhere.

Jimin turned around to face the man. “Yo, Park Hansung! Don’t go shouting in the streets!”

The man, Hansung, gave Jimin a cheeky grin. “But you did too!”

“Yeah, but you started it!” Jimin replied, knowing full well that it made him sound like a child keeping up a stupid argument. He stopped walking and waited for Hansung to catch up to him. “What are you doing out this early? Doesn’t the shop open until later?” He asked once they were walking side by side, voice now down to an acceptable volume.

“Our vegetable delivery guy is out sick today so I’m supposed to pick up our supply from the market,” Hansung said through a yawn. He was cheerful like he usually was but now that Jimin was looking closely, it was apparent that he was tired.

“Didn’t get much sleep last night?” Jimin knew that Hansung worked multiple jobs to make ends meet but this was the first time he was seeing him this tired in the morning.

“You could say that. I haven’t had much time to sleep the past week.”

“You didn’t get another part-time job, did you?” Jimin asked, concern lacing his tone. “You can’t keep on pushing your body like that, Hansung-ah.”

“This coming from Park Jimin? The Park Jimin who stayed behind every day after training and pulled weekly all-nighters back when he was at the police academy? That Park Jimin?”

“That was a situation where only I could do something to improve my performance so I did it. This is different. If you’re short on money then you can always come to me. You don’t need to get another job. You work too much already.”

“I always say this but you’re too kind, Jimin.” Hansung gave Jimin a fond smile. “Thank you for offering but I can’t take your money.”

“Hansung, you don’t–”

“I’m doing fine on the money front, don’t worry. In fact, I didn’t get another job.” Hansung added a wink for good measure. “I was just caught up in things last week but I’m all good. I know how to pace myself.”

Jimin was still a bit skeptical – Hansung had a habit of making light of his problems so as not to worry others – but let the topic slide for the moment. “As long as you’re taking care of yourself…”

“I am, I promise. Buuut, enough about me! How about you? How was your first day at the station?”

Jimin swallowed the sigh that was his impulsive response to that question. That would only make Hansung worry. “It went well, actually. The Senior Inspector in charge of our station seems like a really nice guy and I met a Senior Officer who was very friendly and introduced me to everyone.” It wasn’t a lie. All of those things did happen on his first day and if Jimin chose to omit the part where his direct superior seemed to find him annoying and had been more than happy to foist him off onto other people as soon as possible, Hansung was none the wiser.

“That’s great! I’m happy that your first day went well. I remember you were worrying so much about your colleagues bullying you or something,” Hansung said with a teasing smirk, “I told you those stories were just made up to scare newbies and you didn’t believe me.”

“Hey, don’t make fun of me! Those things do happen! I’m just lucky I got assigned to a station with decent senior officers.” Senior Inspector Min seemed like he didn’t want to have anything to do with Jimin but he hadn’t been cruel. Gruff and aloof, maybe, but not cruel. Jimin should probably be thankful for that.

“Hmm, if you say so…” Hansung looked reasonably impressed, of what Jimin wasn’t quite sure. “But if anyone bullies you, just tell me and I’d go over there to give them a talking to!”

To anyone else, Hansung’s words probably sounded like a joke but Jimin knew that he was serious. “Hansung, I don’t think making a scene inside a police station is a good idea, but thanks for always having my back,” Jimin said. Hansung often had silly ideas but Jimin knew he always meant well.

Sharing a morning walk with his best friend was a balm for Jimin’s soul and he had arrived at the station in considerably high spirits. Unfortunately, not even the pleasant start to his morning was enough to shield him from the ominous air that greeted him when he stepped into Senior Inspector Min’s office.

In Senior Inspector Min’s hurry to get rid of him the day before, Jimin had forgotten to give the man a copy of his assignment papers. Jimin had thought it would be okay for him to drop by the Senior Inspector’s office early in the morning to hand the papers over but he hadn’t expected to walk into what appeared to be a very important meeting between Senior Inspector Min and Senior Inspector Kim. Judging by the clouded look on the two men’s faces, Jimin guessed that whatever it was they were talking about, it was a terrible situation that was way, way above Jimin’s pay grade.

“Were you eavesdropping?” That was Senior Inspector Min and he looked pissed. Granted, the man seemed to have a resting annoyed face but this time, Jimin could tell that he was really quite angry.

“N-no, sir.” Came Jimin’s quick denial. The last thing he wanted was for his superior officers to think that he was up to no good on his second day at work.

“Uh huh?” Senior Inspector Min didn’t look convinced. “So what, they don’t teach you how to knock at the academy?”

“Uhm, I – I was… ” Jimin felt like his heart was lodged in his throat. He contemplated the merits of telling Senior Inspector Min that he did knock before entering but the two senior inspectors seemed to have been too engrossed in their discussion to notice or to respond so Jimin decided to push the door just a little to see if there was anyone inside. It was just Jimin’s luck that Senior Inspector Kim opened the door at the same time so he had been dragged into the room without warning, effectively barging into the senior officers’ tense meeting. Jimin found the whole experience mortifying, really.

“Yoongi, please don’t scare him,” Senior Inspector Kim said and Jimin felt like he could kiss the man in gratitude. “Relax, Officer Park. I don’t believe that you were eavesdropping and I’m pretty sure forgetting to knock once in a while isn’t a punishable offense. I know I’m guilty of the same thing sometimes.”

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Senior Inspector Kim was one of the nicest, most respectable guys Jimin had ever met in his entire life. Jimin was blessed to have been assigned to this man’s station.

“Thank you, sir!” Jimin bowed ninety degrees. “And I’m sorry for barging into your meeting, sir!”

“It’s fine. We were done here anyway. I’m leaving you two.” Senior Inspector Kim clapped Jimin’s shoulder on his way out. “Yoongi, don’t be too harsh on him.”

Jimin only rose from his bow when he heard the door click shut behind him. Senior Inspector Kim was very kind about the whole thing but now, Jimin was alone with Senior Inspector Min and without a buffer, he might very well be put through the wringer by his direct superior.

Senior Inspector Min sighed. To Jimin’s relief, the words from Senior Inspector Kim seemed to have mollified him. “I suppose I should have told you this yesterday but, Rule Number One – knock if you want to enter my office. If you don’t hear an answer, don’t come in. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Rule Number Two, don’t ever eavesdrop on any conversation happening inside this office. Or any office for that matter. Clearances exist for a reason and there are things you don’t need to know.”

“Yes, sir.” Jimin felt that particular scolding was underserved as he hadn’t been eavesdropping but he wasn’t about to talk back to his superior officer like that.

“And Rule Number Three.” Senior Inspector Min rose from his seat and walked towards Jimin. “Don’t be so fucking meek all the damn time. I don’t appreciate insubordination but I hate mindless obedience even more. There’s a fine line between the two, learn to thread it, otherwise, you’ll never survive this job. Do you understand?” It was probably only Jimin’s imagination but there seemed to be a hint of concern in Senior Inspector Min’s tone.

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

to be continued…

#fanfic #taegi #bts #taegi au #bts au #bts fanfic #ewte

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airagorncharda · 7 years

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So tomorrow I’m getting top surgery!! Here’s some TMI thoughts on that, so I can get it out of my system! Or, as my friend put it, “Get it off [my] chest, eyyyyyy” (finger guns included)

So I’ve known that I wanted top surgery since I was at LEAST 16, and I have evidence that I had chest related dysphoria from as early as when I developed breasts. Which for me was like age 11. I’m excited about this finally happening, since I’m fucking 27 now, so it’s BEEN A LONG TIME COMING.

And my fiance is taking 2 weeks off to take care of me, which is great and basically takes all pressure off of me for my recovery. I took care of him after his surgery too, but still, I’m enormously grateful that he’s able to.

People keep asking me if I’m nervous or if I’m scared or if I’m excited. And the answer is yes, but maybe not in the ways people expect? And it’s all been rattling around in my head, so I figured I should just write it down. This way it’s no longer rattling around in my head, and also I’ll have a record of it for 10 years from now when I’ve inevitably forgotten most of this. And maybe other people will benefit from reading this too (whether it’s my friends who care what’s up with me, trans people wondering what it’s like for other trans people the day before surgery, or cis people who are curious and want to learn more about The Trans Experience [TM]).

Issue #1

My parents want to be there at the hospital for the surgery, which is... a mixed bag? I do love my parents and they want to be supportive of me, and (maybe more than that) they’re scared for me because surgery is scary (more so to them than to me). And it’ll be nice to see them and it’s nice of them to want to be there, and it’s nice that they’re going to be doing grocery shopping and stuff too. I appreciate it all a lot. Buuut when my fiance had his surgery it ended up being just me at the hospital and it was VERY low stress as a result, so I’m a little worried having three people there (and having it be them) is going to be a source of stress?

Also they’ve been supportive of me my whole life in so many ways, but me being trans is really not one of those ways. They’ve been VERY hesitant to support me about this in any way, and even though they’ve finally come around to seeing me as a guy, I’m still very wary of the whole issue with them. It’s taken so long, and been so frustrating, and I don’t have the energy to deal with that right now, nor should I have to when I’m FINALLY getting my surgery that I would have gotten YEARS ago if it weren’t for THEIR baggage and issues about my being trans.

Because of all that, I both appreciate their support, and also feel like it’s... I don’t know, too little too late to have the effect it should rightly have? I don’t feel like they support me as a trans person, I feel like they’ve just figured out they can’t stop me and grudgingly accepted that. So while I’m glad they WANT to support me, I don’t actually feel supported by them.

Issue #2 (where the TMI part starts to happen)

I really really really don’t want to lose sensation in my nipples. I enjoy sex and I enjoy nipple stimulation, and it’s one of the only things about my chest I’ve ever LIKED. It’s one of the reasons I’m choosing to get the type of procedure I’m getting (Inverted-T/T-Anchor), but even WITH this type of procedure, there’s STILL A CHANCE that I’ll lose sensation. Nerves aren’t in the same place in all people, and they’re microscopic so they might get cut depending on where in my tissue they are, so it’s possible that after tomorrow I’m never going to have sensation in my nipples again which is slightly freaking me out and makes me want to cry.

The idea of not getting top surgery at all and having breasts forever makes me want to not exist, so there’s no contest, but if I do lose sensation I’ll be really upset about that. I’ve been avoiding focusing on it too much but it’s definitely stressing me out, and I’m not going to know one way or another until after I’m healing.

Issue #3

While I’m recovering, I’m going to be spending a lot of time in bed propped up on wedge pillows and unable to lift most things (anything over 5lbs is too much). This means that my cats, who love cuddling me and climbing up on my chest, are going to have to be exiled from our bedroom while I recover, which is of course when I’ll MOST want to cuddle them. I’m sad about that, and trying to get in as many kitty cuddles as I can before tomorrow.

Issue #4

I have come to the conclusion that I’m nonbinary, and while that has no effect on my desire to get top surgery, it DOES mean that how I talk about getting top surgery with people who don’t know I’m nonbinary (like my parents and my doctors) feels sort of uncomfortable and weird.

Breasts don’t make anybody a gender, they just exist. The reason I’m getting mine removed is that they cause me physical discomfort through dysphoria, NOT because I’m a man (which I’m sort of not). I don’t like that people assume that getting them removed is going to make me feel more like a man, or that surgical transition means I’m binary.

Issue #5 (more TMI)

And, relatedly, there are days and situations when I LIKE having breasts. I like they way they feel when they’re touched (especially during sex). I find them sort of amusing when I’m lying down and I can jiggle them. I find it hilarious that my cats like kneading on them, and I sometimes like cupping them with my hands and looking at my cleavage.

I DON’T like looking at my body with them. I don’t like the way they feel when they move (especially during sex). I don’t like the way they feel against my arms when I’m trying to sleep, or they way they fit into clothing, or how clothing looks on me because of them, or the way I get acne on the underside of them because of sweat.

But there ARE things about them I like, and on days when I feel less masculine, or when I’m relating really strongly to a character who has breasts, or when I’m having sex, I like things about having them that I’m never going to experience again after tomorrow, and that’s a little scary.

Issue #6

I didn’t get my newer laptop keyboard fixed, or my tablet fixed, so I won’t be able to make art, and I’ll be relegated to my old laptop for writing while I recover. This isn’t a big issue but it’s just mildly annoying. I prioritized other things (getting my car fixed, having a relaxing holiday, etc.), and I don’t regret it, but I do wish I had my tablet working.

Issue #7

When I got my wisdom teeth out, they gave me laughing gas to fall unconscious, and it gave me tunnel vision and totally freaked me out, and those like 3 seconds were the worst medical experience of my life. I'm nervous about that, because I don’t know if they’ll be giving me that again.

Issue #8 (more TMI)

I’ve been temporarily off T for a while, and I currently have my period. Which is not timed very well, and I’ll have to figure out how to either put in a tampon without really moving my arms too much, or I’ll have to suffer with wearing pads and panties instead of boxers for a couple days, which will suck either way. Obviously I need to make sure if I’m wearing a tampon that it doesn’t stay in too long, which may be complicated since the medication I’ll be on for the first few days is likely to make me sleep a lot. On the other hand, panties are fucking uncomfortable and I’m not even sure I own any anymore. I could put a pad into a pair of boxers since I’m going to be barely moving? Or I could just layer a few old towels under me and give up. At least I’ve had it for a few days so it won’t be so heavy.

Now on to the things that are exciting:

Excitement #1

Not having fucking breasts, holy shit!

As I said, I don’t like looking at my body with breasts, the way they feel when they move, the way they feel against my arms when I’m trying to sleep, they way they fit into clothing, how clothing looks on me because of them, or underboob sweat and the acne it causes. And without them, I won’t have to deal with any of that bullshit anymore!!

I’ll be able to fucking go clothes shopping and not want to burst into tears! I’ll be able to figure out what my actual preferred wardrobe aesthetic even IS and (since I asked for and received a bunch of clothing store gift cards for Christmas) I can actually BUY CLOTHES ACCORDINGLY for the first time in like 15 years (rather than just buying what’s cheapest and fits, that I don’t hate, like I have been).

Excitement #2

Sleep without dysphoria. I get dysphoria related insomnia periodically and it’s 99% of the time about my chest and how they feel against my arm or how I can’t lie on my front with them in the way or just literally that they exist, and then I get into a mental spiral about it and I can’t sleep. I am SO EXCITED to never have to deal with that bullshit again.

Excitement #3

Passing publicly.

I have a lot of anxiety around being percieved as a woman, and despite having a short mustache and beard, I still sometimes get misgendered. Not having tits is going to help that, and it will make it way easier for me to go outside and be around people I don’t know without anxiety.

Excitement #4

As I’ve said, my parents took a long long time to accept that I’m a guy. And while I am nonbinary, I’m on the demi-boy/trans masculine side of being nonbinary, so I still used he/him pronouns and would prefer for most people to think of me as a guy, or at least that masculine is preferable to feminine. My parents (and other people in my life outside my friend group) took a long time to use the right pronouns and the right name, and I think my parents especially only really accepted it once I was on T and started visually changing in a way they could really SEE.

So I’m basically excited for the prospect of my parents maybe fully accepting me even more than they have thus far. I don’t know if it’ll be something that I can observe, but at least it will be something I’ll feel like is happening.

Excitement #5

Spooning. Being big spoon with breasts has it’s own appeal, but I already know I’m going to enjoy it more without them.

Excitement #6

Swimming. I want so badly to be able to swim without tits. Both because I will be able to go to the beach and not be immediately misgendered, AND because swimming with tits is just... it’s honestly just uncomfortable? And I get like sand and seaweed under them?? And I hate it??

Excitement #7

Looking at myself in the mirror.

I honestly just don’t do that at this point, because it causes dysphoria. I’d really like to be able to see what I look like. If that means I decide to change other things (exercise more or get a tattoo or literally anything) then that’s cool, but mostly I just... have barely even really looked at my own body in years and I’m excited to be able to.

I have a very hard time perceiving what I actually LOOK like, in terms of overall shape as well as attractiveness or anything, because my brain hyperfocuses on my breasts and they skew the whole image. I want that to be gone, and after tomorrow... it actually finally, FINALLY will be.

Excitement #8

All the comfort foods I’m gonna get to eat while recovering. I’m looking forward to mac and cheese, baked turkey and chicken, pudding cups, egg custard, mashed potatoes, ginger ale, and ice cream. My parents are going to bring over groceries which is going to be tremendously helpful and also makes me feel sort of like a little kid being actually taken care of when I was sick, which was nice. Getting active support from my parents is a weird sort of guilty pleasure. They support me in a lot of ways, but they’re also usually busy and I’m not good at asking for support from them either, so it doesn’t often happen at this point.

Excitement #9

My fiance has TWO WEEKS OFF to take care of me, which means we get to chill out in bed for two week, playing Pokemon and Tales of Berseria (which we got for Christmas), and watching Galaxy Quest and Ever After and Pride and Prejudice (which I also asked for for Christmas), and hanging out. I’m excited for him to be able to have a nice break and I’m excited to chill out with him even if it’s while I’ll be drugged up and recovering.

And on to some things that are neither exciting nor issues:

Thing #1

I was supposed to have a noon appointment, and on Friday they called and said they’d rescheduled it to earlier in the morning? Apparently they can and do reschedule surgeries without asking the patient first?? This seems really fucked up to me, BUT I’m glad that my appointment is earlier because it gives me a better chance of being able to go home the same day.

Thing #2

My parents are going to be there for my surgery, and then when the doctor tells us what we need to get from the drug store, my fiance is taking me home and THEY’RE going to go buy all the stuff and bring it over. That way he doesn’t have to stop at CVS on the way home with me in the car, or leave me at home to go get them. I highly recommend this for anyone who has surgery, and more than one person willing to look after them.

Thing #3

I hope I’m awake and mentally with it enough to at least listen to my DnD group the day after my surgery. I’m totally not going to be, but I hope I am. I haven’t had to miss a session yet, and I love playing DnD with these guys!

Thing #4

I hope I can at least come downstairs some to hang out around my cats and the Christmas tree before it gets taken down for the season. I love how our tree always looks, and I’ll be a little sad if I have to stay mostly upstairs for like 2 weeks and then it goes away.

Summary:

People keep asking if I’m scared or nervous or excited. And like, the answer is yes to all of those things, but maybe not how people expect.

I’m not scared that the surgery is going to go wrong and kill or mutilate me or something. I’m scared I’ll lose nipple sensation, that laughing gas will be unpleasant, and that my cats are going to think I don’t like them anymore for the next three weeks.

I’m not nervous that I’ll get scars or won’t be satisfied with the results or something. I’m nervous that I’ll be really bored, miss DnD, and have more trouble relating to characters who have breasts after I don’t anymore.

I’m not excited to “look like a man” (whatever that means). I’m excited to go swimming, and sleep on my front sometimes, and buy new clothes, and eat comfort food with my fiance while he has two weeks off from work.

It’s a complicated thing, and very personal, and different for everyone. No one else is likely to have exactly the same experience as me.

I just needed to get this down before I go do laundry, eat dinner, take a shower, and cuddle my cats, because I have to be at the hospital in 12 hours. And I’m nervous, and scared, and excited.

#my life #top surgery #trans #my thoughts #readmore #this got long

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gracieminabox · 7 years

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@nerdqueenenterprise did her “50 headcanons” for Chris and Phil and, well, I got inspired to do mine, too.

(Why yes, I should be doing homework right now; why do you ask?)

Cut because looooong.

What does their bedroom look like? Phil owns his own house, an unassuming bungalow just outside the BOQ complex, where Chris’ last apartment is. After the Narada, when Chris can no longer manage the seven-floor walkup, he moves in with Phil. (Years later, they think about buying their own house together; surprisingly, it’s Chris who’s too attached to the bungalow to want to leave it.) Their bedroom is on the far west side of the house. It’s larger than the guest room, but still not ridiculously big, and has hardwood floors with several plush Bajoran rugs (Phil got most of them as gifts from the traditional midwives with whom he apprenticed while completing his fellowship). Their bed is enormous, with a wrought-iron, slatted headboard, matching end tables, and two large wardrobes. Chris sleeps closer to the door to the room, Phil to his left; there’s a decent-sized window to Phil’s left. There’s an en suite bathroom there, too, with pale green tile and lots of brushed steel furnishings.

Do they have any daily rituals? As long as they’re together, kissing one another awake. Phil makes breakfast while Chris reads the news. They take turns in the shower (except when they don’t have to go into the office, when they can get aware with sharing the space, if you know what I mean). Whenever they can - they try to make it a daily thing, but can’t always - one will bring the other coffee mid-morning and/or they’ll have lunch together. At night, they go to bed at the same time, and sex or not, they always kiss goodnight.

Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often? Phil’s exercise regimen is focused largely on flexibility. He does tons of yoga and alien variants thereof, and he swims and weight trains. Chris’ exercise regimen is fast and furious. He runs, he weight trains, he swims, he rides horses, he surfs, he does it all. After the Narada, obviously, his exercise routine must change considerably; swimming becomes his primary form of exercise, and he lets Phil teach him some yoga, too.

What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy? Chris is not allowed within two meters of the kitchen under any circumstances. It’s a public safety matter, really. He can go near the replicator and the coffee maker, and that’s it. So the kitchen will never be busy, because it’ll be Phil in there, virtually always.

Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.) Chris is meticulous about hygiene, but in terms of his living environment, he’s not particularly neat. Phil is neater than he is, but he’s not a nag about it. Chris is in charge of laundry, doing dishes, and when they get a dog, feeding her; Phil’s in charge of cooking, vacuuming, and cleaning the bathroom. (Sample conversation: “Will you ever aim your scrub top into the hamper properly, Dr. Boyce?”/“D’you really want to talk about aim while I’m cleaning the bathroom, Admiral Pike?”)

Eating habits and sample daily menu They’re both pretty healthy eaters. Chris is more prone to forgetting to eat if he’s working his ass off on some kind of project. At breakfast, they both drink coffee, Chris with an obscene amount of sugar in it, Phil with milk. When they don’t have a lot of time, they usually eat cereal, yogurt, or a piece of fruit; when there’s more time to play with, Phil makes bacon and eggs. (Phil’s a vegetarian, but makes an exception for bacon, because bacon is Chris’ favorite food.) On special mornings, maybe pancakes or French toast. Lunch is, all too often, whatever they can grab - a sandwich in the Academy cafeteria, leftovers from last night’s dinner, that little baggie of pretzels hidden in the bottom desk drawer. They both try to remember to pack something a little more filling, but whether or not they actually do is anybody’s guess. For dinner, either Phil cooks - usually something simple, like pasta primavera or loaded baked potatoes - or they get takeout. There’s a pizza place on the Academy grounds that delivers until 0300. Phil developed a taste for Andorian fusion food when he was doing his fellowship and turns Chris on to it too. On special nights, they go out to dinner.

Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time Chris has a tendency to feel guilty about not working, but Phil, who knows Chris’ workaholic tendencies well, reminds him that he’s a workaholic who has earned a break, and that the time he enjoys wasting is not wasted time. Chris swims, plays guitar, watches TV, and sometimes just sits there talking and laughing with Phil. Phil wastes time by trying new recipes that he’s not so sure about.

Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging Phil’s favorite indulgence is sweets. He has a sweet tooth, even though he tries not to indulge it very often. He always does when they go out to dinner, though; the little place up the road makes a sinful tres leches cake. Chris’ is also food based, but he favors a good steak. There is nothing better than a perfectly medium rare piece of synthetically-grown beef.

Makeup? Neither of them wear makeup, unless they’re covering up bite marks and hickeys left by the other.

Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such? Chris definitely has a higher neurotic component than Phil does, although even Chris’ is pretty chill. He’s just more prone to anxiety, especially when he’s young. He’s better at recognizing it now than he used to be.

Intellectual pursuits? They’re many and varied. Phil loves his chosen fields, but he likes to dip into areas outside his typical daily practice; that’s why he knew who Leonard McCoy was when Chris first recruited him, from browsing neuro journals. Chris has always been interested in humanitarian aid and how to most effectively mobilize for its delivery; he became much more so after Tarsus.

Favorite book genre? Phil will read whatever, as long as the characters draw him in. He loves medical mysteries, for obvious reasons. Chris loves psychological thrillers and dystopian novels, and if you mention his small collection of romance novels, he will deny it to his dying day.

Sexual orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general? Phil is bi. He knew he was in first grade, when he got a crush on a boy in his class, and told his mom. She just smiled and ruffled his hair and said they’d talk about that in a couple of years. Chris thought he was a garden-variety heterosexual until his early forties, after Divorce #2, when he realized he had feelings for Phil. It took him a few uncomfortable years to adjust to the idea of (a) being attracted to his best friend and (b) being attracted to a man at all. He rarely slaps a label on it, but he’s bi. They are both aggressively “live and let live” regarding who’s sexual with whom and to what degree.

Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.) Chris’ mobility issues are the most obvious item. When he’s having a particularly bad pain day, he uses a wheelchair; on “average” days, he uses his cane. Every once in a while, he has a particularly good day and can manage without his cane, though this is fairly uncommon. His kidneys are still a little fragile as a result of the rhabdomyolysis he experienced while recovering from the Narada experience, and within a few years he has to take a daily medication to maintain optimal kidney function. He’s got several food allergies, notably to fruits; among the known ones are cantaloupe, cranberry, and mango. Phil doesn’t have much in the way of any of these things. He maintains exceptional health his entire life. He does have a mild allergy to an enzyme used in some dessicated Vulcan foods, including protein nibs, but the worst he gets if he eats them is hives.

Biggest and smallest short term goal? (This is a tough one to answer for a couple who’s been together for-fucking-ever.)

Biggest and smallest long term goal? Grow old together.

Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress Uniforms for work, obviously. Phil favors wearing a lab coat at the hospital, but never bothered when he was shipboard. Chris has a small pocket sewn into the inside of his command tunic into which he slipped his favorite picture of him with Phil. They both keep civilian suits, which they often wear to fancy dinners (and to their own wedding) and a fair selection of casual and athletic attire.

Favorite beverage? Phil’s favorite alcoholic beverage: martini, very dry. Phil’s favorite non-alcoholic beverage: hot orange spice tea. Chris’ favorite alcoholic beverage: whisky. Chris’ favorite non-alcoholic beverage: water.

What do they think about before falling asleep at night? Mostly about their plans for tomorrow, always with at least a little spared thought for each other. (Sometimes a lot of spared thought for each other, let’s be real.)

Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them? Chris is fairly prone to colds and flus. When he was very young, about two or three, he got strep throat and spiked a fever so high that his mother panicked and rushed him to the emergency room, thinking he must’ve had Tarkalean flu, even though there was no reasonable way he could’ve contracted it. (The incident was one of his father’s major clues that his mother’s medication wasn’t working well anymore.) Phil is, again, exceptionally healthy. He did break his clavicle falling off his bike when he was first learning to ride. When he was eleven, he fell through the ice on the makeshift ice rink on the pond in the backyard; his eldest brother, Charlie, pulled him out of the freezing water and got him inside and warmed up before any harm could befall him.

Turn-ons? Turn-offs? Too many to give a comprehensive list, buuut... Phil’s turn-ons include the way Chris smells after he’s just taken a shower or after he’s just worked out (yes, the smells are different, shut up), the way Chris’ hair gets so much curlier when it’s wet or when it’s humid outside, and the sound of Chris’ voice. Chris’ turn-ons include Phil’s many kinds of smiles (soft, sly, sexy, giddy, pensive, open, loving), how Phil’s hair flops down over his eyes no matter what he does to stop it, and literally everything about Phil’s hands. Their mutual turn-offs, in general, are arrogance, xenophobia (or any other bullshit marginalizing viewpoint), and willful ignorance.

Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil and nothing to do, what would happen? Chris would probably doodle starships. Phil would probably doodle nonsensical shapes and start shading them differently.

How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life? Chris is very organized at the office and not even a little bit organized at home. His home office is, as he calls it, “an organized pigsty.” Phil is not allowed to move things in the office. Phil does, however, have permission to, for example, clear Chris’ crap off the kitchen table before they eat, or pick up Chris’ dirty socks, or put the cap back on Chris’ toothpaste. Phil is considerably neater than Chris is at home, but at work, he’d forget his own name if he weren’t wearing it around his neck. His assistant at Medical, Martha, is the one with a memory like a steel trap; she’s a fixer of things and Phil’s right hand.

Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all? They’re both brilliant, and were brilliant students. Everything came naturally to Phil (he was one of those students who did well without having to study), but his favorite subjects were biology and English. Chris’ best subjects were physics and analytical geometry, but his favorites were the social sciences.

How do they see themselves 5 years from today? Safe and happy, on Earth, in their little bungalow, with a garden and a dog and an in-ground pool in the backyard where Chris can do his exercises and a greenhouse where Phil can grow orchids and Jim and Len come over for dinner three times a week.

Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t work out? Phil asks Chris this, after Jim’s back and Chris is recovering from the Daystrom attack. He asks Chris what he wants. Chris thinks about it, and ultimately decides that what he wants most is to grow old with Phil. He has to make peace with the fact that he can’t go into space again, not in his physical condition; and that, plus the fact that his Starfleet career’s put his life in danger on a regular basis lately, means that Starfleet’s lost a lot of its allure for him. Maybe he’ll semi-retire. Maybe he’ll totally retire. Maybe he’ll just teach. Who knows? His priorities have changed, though, and what he really wants now is to be a good partner to Phil. Phil liked space travel just fine, but it wasn’t a driving force for him like it was for Chris, so he can happily do without it. He wants to continue to be useful to as many people as he can, and he can do that for as many species as possible while with Starfleet, so his plans are to stay dirtside at Medical and keep helping people until he can’t anymore. (And, of course, to grow old with Chris.)

What is their biggest regret? Chris’ is waiting so long to figure out his feelings for Phil and depriving them of all that time they could’ve been a couple. Phil tells him time and time again not to let that bother him - after all, they’re together now, and that’s what matters - but it still nags at Chris. Phil doesn’t believe in regrets.

Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy? They are each other’s best friend and have been forever. Other than each other, Phil would say his best friend is his elder sister Sarah. Chris’ is his high school best friend Erin. Both would also consider Number One an extremely close friend. Worst enemy? Nero and Khan both duke it out for the top spot.

Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?) They both manage crisis for a living. They figure out what has to be done and they do it. They feel emotions about the crisis, but they shelve them until what has to be done gets done. They wait until they’re in a private space before they let their emotions show.

Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies) Chris’ immediate reaction is to fall back on practicality. He needs something to do. It’ll be days of relative catatonia before he actually feels the emotions full-force. Phil’s immediate reaction is shock, followed by tears.

Most prized possession? Chris’ is Vince’s class ring. He didn’t find out what had happened to his grandfather’s Starfleet class ring until after his grandmother had died, when he went back to the Mojave ranch house for the first time in decades and started sifting through what was there. It was in an envelope, in a closet, with Chris’ name on it in Vince’s handwriting. Chris put it on and then never took it off. Phil doesn’t have a prized possession until he and Chris get married. Then it’s his wedding ring.

Thoughts on material possessions in general? They like things, but they can also do without things. Does that make sense? Like, they’re certainly not materialistic, but they also aren’t entirely immaterialistic. They value what possessions they have, and when trying to get something new, always want something high in quality, no matter what it is.

Concept of home and family? Chris has a dysfunctional family history and an insecure attachment style. Phil came from a loving, close-knit family and feels secure in his attachment. Polar opposites. Phil has to kind of lead by example, to demonstrate to Chris what a positive home and family are supposed to look like, which means Phil is an instrumental part of Chris’ concept of home.

Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to TMI?) Chris is more prone to what one might actually call TMI. Phil is more prone to, shall we say, socially inappropriate conversations - but without knowing it. (Discussing birthing positions in graphic detail with a riveted expectant parent while others look on in horror and Chris just winces and sips his drink.) When it really matters, though, they’re both private people. (Oh, that reminds me - Chris has instituted a list of “banned” words for when Phil is discussing his work. Membrane, for example. Placenta. Sac.)

What activities do they enjoy, but consider a waste of time? They reach a certain point in life where they don’t consider anything a waste of time, because they’re just trying to soak up their time together.

What makes them feel guilty? For Chris, it’s reflecting on how much pain he put Phil through over years of not knowing - or maybe of stopping himself from consciously knowing - how Phil felt about him. Phil refuses to participate in Chris Pike’s Self-Flagellation Hour and just gently tells him to put away the guilt. Phil’s guilt is rooted in every person he’s not been able to save.

Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making? Chris is almost wholly analytical in making command decisions and almost wholly emotional in making personal decisions. Phil has more balance in both professional and personal situations, incorporating not only the clinical details but also his patient’s illness narrative, their values, their social support, economics, geography, etc. into his clinical decisions.

Would they consider themselves a Type A or Type B personality? Neither of them are entirely either one, but Chris leans more Type A and Phil more Type B. Chris is much more take charge, go-go-go, all go no quit never give up never surrender. Phil can absolutely be that way in a crisis, but his default is calmer, more relaxed.

What recharges them when they’re feeling drained? For Chris, it’s exercise. For Phil, it’s sleep, or cooking. For both of them, it’s sex.

Would you say that they have a superiority complex? Inferiority complex? Neither? Neither. Phil has a very realistic picture of himself. It could be argued that Chris has a mild inferiority complex, especially early in his life, but it’s more that he’s incredibly insecure, even if he pretends to be profoundly confident.

How misanthropic are they? Chris can be sometimes, when life just gets to be too much to handle. Phil virtually never is.

Hobbies? Chris plays guitar, swims, reads, and looks at the stars. (Yeah, yeah, he looks at the stars for work, too; whatever.) Phil cooks, reads, does yoga, and collects antique medical journals.

How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self education? Chris graduated high school a year early to join Starfleet. He has an undergraduate degree in xenosociology, with concentrations in diplomatic relations and humanitarianism, and a Ph.D. in military strategy and tactics. Phil has two undergraduate degrees - a BS in biology and a BA in psychology - a masters of public health with a concentration in multispecies health education, and an MD. He holds three board certifications, one in ob/gyn, one in emergency medicine, and one in general surgery. They share an opinion that the important thing is that someone learns, not how someone learns. Formal education, self education, whatever - as long as they continue to learn, that’s what matters.

Religion? Both are agnostic. Chris leans atheistic, though he would stop short of using that term, and he maintains an open mind. Phil is more of a “pure” agnostic in that he doesn’t believe that the existence, or lack thereof, of a higher power is something anyone will ever be able to comprehend. Phil could absolutely be considered spiritual, though; he does believe, and pretty firmly, that something bigger than himself exists, though whether someone wants to call that “god” or just “the universe” or something else is up to them.

Superstitious or views on the occult? Neither are particularly superstitious, though they certainly respect the diversity of viewpoints they’ve encountered in their travels.

Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds? Both. Phil tends to be more verbal, Chris more action-based, but both of them are variable in how they express themselves.

If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal? Chris chronically falls in love, to habitually disastrous ends. He craves connection with others, and when he finds it, he’s determined not to let it go, even if it’s so clearly not right. The only time he hasn’t felt like he’s had to compromise something about himself in order to love another person has been with Phil. That makes Phil his ideal. Phil’s had several casual relationships with people - historically, he’s actually been with quite a few more people than Chris has - but he’s been in love exactly once. Chris is his ideal.

How do they express love? They say so. Often. They’re both pretty verbal people, especially Phil, and they both love hearing that they are loved. They touch. Often. It takes a little bit of time to adjust to physical affection in public, but once they do, hand-holding or arms around shoulders or waists or little exchanged kisses are common. They spend time together. They have date nights, they debrief and cuddle together on the couch after hard days, they go on trips together, they have dinner together every night. They exchange gifts. Chris knows Phil prefers a plasma stove to the electric one they have, so he gets him one. Phil knows Chris likes better water pressure than what he has, so he pays for upgrades. They help each other. Phil helps Chris with PT, Chris helps Phil with household chores, Phil makes dinner, Chris drives more. They ease one another’s burdens.

If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like? Chris is a muscled, combat-trained man. He’s gonna win most one-on-one fights. Against more than one person? He’ll hold his own, but it’s a toss-up as to how he’ll do. Phil’s a pacifist to his core and avoid fighting at any cost - he even despised carrying a phaser on away missions when he was shipboard and prided himself on never firing one after the required training at the Academy - but my dude can throw a hell of a punch if he needs to. (Charlie taught him how to, when their sister Sarah had a boyfriend who was hitting her, so they could go kick his ass. They did - though Charlie did most of the actual ass-kicking because Phil was only fourteen - and said boyfriend never came near Sarah again. Phil still doesn’t know where Charlie learned how to fight that well.)

Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not? Chris is. He accepts it as an inevitability, and the risk of death as an occupational hazard; but when he’s been close to death before, yeah, he’s definitely been afraid. Phil’s not afraid of death as a concept. He just hates the idea of being without Chris.

#why does chril happen to unassuming people

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littlelakeswallow · 7 years

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1. Real name : Andrew

2. Nickname(s) : Fishy, Mandrew

3. Fav. color: Sky blue and the pink of sakura

4. Male or female : Male

5. Nursery/Kindergarten : Kingdergarten

6. Primary School : Parramatta Public school

7. Secondary : wait is this how i’m meant ot answer Parramatta High School

8. College : TAFE/Diploma in Games development (Art)

9. Hair Color : Black

10. Tall or Short : 168cm u decide

11. Sweats or Jeans : Jeans

12. Phone or Camera : Phone

13. Health freak : Health conscious

14. Orange or Apple : Oranges

15. Do you have a crush on someone : Not realllyyyy buuut who knowssssss

16. Eat or Drink : Drink

17. Piercings : Noop

18. Pepsi or Coke: Coke!

19. Been in an airplane : Yup!

20. Been in a relationship : ALMSOT in year 7 but im so glad that didn’t happen. idk i’ll ask some pretty girl out if she comes along but i can’t support a relationship right now.

21. Been in a car accident : nope

22. Been in a fist fight : only for training. i fractured my older bro’s sternum >>

23. First piercing : noooo

24. Best friend(s): i love man teekay and my terrorist sahim

25. First award : Regional high jump!!!! And then people my age were jumping 180cm so LATERS ME AND MY 160??

26. First crush : Silly crush on a girl from church when i was in like year 2 hahahahha she called me ugly so lATERS

27. First word : probably fish

28. Zodiac Sign: Gemini

29. Last person you texted : Actually my mum... TO ASK HER WHERE THE HECK SHE WAS

30. Last person you talked to: peoples from ARTTRA

31. Last person you watched a movie with : people from ARTTRA literally just now

32. Last food you ate : Laksa

33. Last movie you watched : Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows (Part 2)

34. Last song you listened to : dunnoo

35. Last thing you bought : i got a tonne of prints and keychains from SMASH

37. Fav Food : Mapo tofu no jk. Otherwise... agedashi tofu and jap curry

38. Fav Drink : i love soy milk......

39. Fav Bottoms : Trousers are king

40. Fav Flower : Lilies

41. Fav Animal : Kitty.. I like hummingbirds a lot... and does

42. Color/s : complementary is king

43. Fav Movie : Mononoke Hime

44. Fav Subject : highschool ptsd i am 69th percentile i almost got a mystery mark.

IT though, for the 5 man class. we were tight as heck and that teacher helped me through some tough high school times

HAVE YOU EVER:

(Put an X in the brackets if yes)

45. [x] fallen in love with someone.

46. [x]celebrated Halloween.

47. [x] had your heart broken. It hoits

48. [] went over the data on your cell phone.

49. [prob not past 18 years i was a toad, still a toad bit i suppose a tiny bit less] had someone like you

51. [x yes] got pregnant.

52. [ ] had an abortion.

53. [x] did something I regret.

54. [x] broke a promise.

55. [x] hid a secret.

56. [x] pretended to be happy.

57. [x] met someone who changed your life.

58. [x] pretended to be sick.

59. [X] left the country.

60. [X] tried something you normally wouldn’t try and liked it.

61. [X] cried over the silliest thing.

62. [X] ran a mile.

63. [x] went to the beach with your best friend.

64. [x] got into an argument with your friends.

65. [x] disliked someone.

66. [ ] stayed single for 2 years since the first time you had a boyfriend/girlfriend.

CURRENTLY:

67. Eating : Noop

68. Drinking : Yooop

69. Listening : The sound of Ip Man in the background

70. Sitting/Laying : Sitting

71. Plans for today: Sleep, but tomorrow is back to the drawing.

72. Waiting for : Myself to finish this so I can sleep

YOUR FUTURE:

73. Want kids : YES

74. Want to get married : LOVE ME

75. Career : my only path is drawing. all boats have been burned.

76. Lips or eyes : If i were to become one giant eye, or one giant lip, I would choose the eyes.

look if a girl has pretty eyes it’s like :)))))

77. Shorter or Taller : TALLER LOOK THAT GIRL I HINTED AT EARLIER I NEED TO BE TALLER AHHAHAHAH

78. Romantic or spontaneous : BOTH

81. Hook-up or relationship : I’m..... not the type of person for a hook up.

82. Looks or personality: both la..........

HAVE YOU EVER:

83. Lost glasses/contacts : Nope

84. Snuck out of a house : Nope?

85. Held a gun/knife for self defense : Nope

86. Killed somebody : Nope

87. Broken someone’s heart : Nope

88. Been in love : look every crush i’ve had has been v bad for myself except the most recent

89. Cried when someone died : IN ANIME

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

90. Yourself : almost too much

91. Miracles : COS GOD

92. Love at first sight : i was stunned also

93. Heaven : yup

94. Santa Claus: in my heart of hearts

95. Aliens: basically if god decided to make aliens then there are aliens otherwise i don’t care now you know how i think about every controvercial topic

96. Ghosts : ^

TRUTHFULLY:

97. Is there one person you really want to be with right now : more like a ‘in my mind it would be a really nice thing to have’, like icing on a cake. i’m really good at wanting things that are not good for myself though.

so, it stays as a nice little maybe. i’ll see in a few months, or if someone else comes and sweeps me off my feet.

98. Do you know who your real friends are : what does real friends even mean? some are in my life right now, and won’t be in future. but i do my silly best to love them.

100. Post as 100 truths : Yea, have a read! i spent too long and was a bit too honest

tagged by good man @propertyofaminus

friends i choose you

@katsuraa @heartoverblade @actualbotjeanne @sumeragimikoto

only if ur bothered dw

@ashesofeternity i forgot u pls do it

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365daysofsasuhina · 5 years

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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Two Hundred Eighty-Seven: She’s Better Than That ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Uzumaki Naruto ] [ SasuHina, NaruSaku ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

Given his popularity through high school, Sasuke’s been used to people trying to cozy up to him for all the wrong reasons. Especially girls. Even someone like Sakura - who chased him (and drove him up the wall) since their first years of elementary school only gave up in the latter parts of high school. Students would come and go, and with them would be an almost inevitable crush on the moody, broody dark-haired Uchiha.

His brother had suffered the same fate when he was in high school, having to brush admirers aside since he was young. Though...of course, Itachi had been a bit more gentle and polite about it. Nowadays, Sasuke is all but rude depending on the circumstances. While most advances are brushed off with just some light exasperation, others take a more...firm approach.

And lately...he’s needed all the more reason to keep them aside.

Ever since Hinata approached him, he’s been...unsure what to think. He’d been keeping his admiration of her secret for so long, knowing she was so attached to his dumbass best friend. Then he let it slip that day after practice...and she’d given him that odd look. When she actually showed up to his game - even after her bike got a flat - he was pretty taken aback. And of course it was his mother who ended up giving her a lift.

Then, well...he got smacked in the face with a flyaway bat, and she’d just happened to be there to see it and take him to the nurse. He’d never been so embarrassed in his life...but at least she didn’t seem to think he was an idiot. She was just...worried.

And just a few days ago, she actually waited for him after practice, making small talk before...asking if he’d like to go out. Needless to say, he’d been completely blindsided. Her getting over Naruto apparently went a lot easier for her than he thought.

But then again...it sounded like she’d been slowly dwindling hope on the prospect, anyway. Still, for her to make the first move? With how shy he knows her to be? It honestly impressed him.

...and now he’s not sure what to do.

There’s not much of their senior year left, now. He hasn’t asked her what her plans are. His own are just to go to the local university a few cities over and major in business while also (hopefully) playing baseball. Hinata has played volleyball and tennis all four years, but she hasn’t mentioned if she’ll pursue it after high school...or anything about what she’ll do.

...he’s worried they might end up apart so quickly after finally making it together.

Sure, they don’t know each other that well yet, but...he’s always admired her from afar. Soft-spoken, kind, smart, and ridiculously adorable. To say that he’s smitten is putting it lightly. On his side of things, at least, he knows he’s pretty serious. Hinata, on the other hand, hasn’t really seen him the way he’s seen her until...pretty recently. Her attention has been elsewhere for quite some time.

So, he’s been paranoid about what they’ll do once Summer is over. Or even the school year itself, depending on her plans. What if she doesn’t end up feeling as strongly as he does? What if she slips through his fingers?

...he’s not sure what he’d do. He’s had so much ill luck with girls, he doesn’t want this one chance that he wants to pass him by…!

And eventually, someone notices his melancholy.

“What’s been up with you, dude?”

“Huh?”

“You’ve been mopey. Well...I mean, more than usual,” Naruto replies, hopping up on the brick wall out front of the school beside his friend. A bag of chips is clenched between his teeth as he settles himself.

Sasuke wrinkles his nose. “...we have a game tomorrow. You’re really gonna put that garbage in your gut?”

“What? Nothin’ wrong with it! I’ll be fine - I eat crap all the time and never feel it!”

“...that habit’s going to bite you in the ass in a few years,” the Uchiha mutters.

“Now quit tryin’ to change the subject! What’s eatin’ you, dude?”

“Just...thinking a lot lately.”

“Well yeah, I figured. What about?”

“...the end of the year.”

“Aww, you gonna miss me?”

Sasuke deadpans.

“M’just kiddin’! Seriously...what’s wrong? I haven’t seen you look this out of it in a while.”

Sighing, Sasuke runs a hand back through his hair. “...Hinata asked me out the other day.”

Just stuffing chips in his mouth, Naruto suddenly blows a shower of food out over the sidewalk as he chokes, struggling to breathe. “S...she w-what?”

“Yeah. Just straight up asked me.”

“Well...what did you say?”

“I said sure. We haven’t had any time yet with practice and homework, but we’re thinking maybe this weekend.”

Blues blink, regarding his friend with a furrowed brow. “...okay. So...why’re you so glum if you’ve got a date? Got cold feet or somethin’?”

“No! No, that’s not it. I just…” He sighs, burying his face in his hands. “...look. I’ve liked Hinata for a long time. For like...all of high school.”

“Whoa...I had no idea.”

“Cuz I didn’t want anyone to know. She’s liked you for so long, I just...didn’t want to say anything. And now I might actually have, like...a chance. But…”

“But what?”

“But I dunno what’s gonna happen when we graduate! We haven’t talked about Summer plans, or college, or...anything.”

“Well, I mean...you haven’t even been on a date yet. Kinda jumpin’ the gun, aren’t ya?” When Sasuke doesn’t reply, Naruto hesitates. “...you like her that much…?”

“...yeah.”

“...well shit.” Setting his snack aside, Naruto goes quiet, thinking. “...you sure she’s not, uh...y’know…”

“...what?”

“It’s just...I mean, you said it yourself, right? She’s been on my tail for a long time! I just...don’t want you chasing someone who’s just...settling for you.”

At that, Sasuke’s expression quickly hardens. “No. That’s not how it is.”

“...but -?”

“Hinata’s not like that. She’s better than that! If she didn’t think this would work, she wouldn’t have asked me. She’s not settling -!”

“Okay, okay! I just...was worried, that’s all. You’re my best friend, dude. I wanna be sure you’re only using your time on someone who deserves you.”

“...I’m not worried about that.”

“...all right. Well…” The blond sighs, rubbing the back of his head in thought. “...maybe you can talk to her when you get together. Just kinda, y’know...casually bring it up. See what she says. I dunno if she’d be kinda freaked out if you suddenly started planning out your college choice because of her when you’re both still new to this, right?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of. You’re right, I’ll just...ease into it. Try to be nonchalant. See how it goes from there.”

After a pause, Naruto can’t help a grin and a snicker. At Sasuke’s questioning glance, he admits, “Never thought it’d be you comin’ to me for dating advice, huh?”

Sasuke’s face sours. “Hey, I didn’t come to you, you just showed up! And I...needed to vent. Don’t get it twisted.”

“Yeah, yeah...well, I bet it’ll be fine. If Hinata’s as good of a person as you seem to think she is, then you’ve got nothin’ to worry about. Have your date, test the waters, and see how it goes. Just don’t start talkin’ about moving in together and havin’ kids, okay?”

“As if!” Sasuke rebukes, going a bit red in the face.

The pair then fall into a thoughtful silence.

“So...you ever ask Sakura out?”

“Yeah, like a thousand times!”

“I mean recently.”

Sipping his soda and pouting, Naruto mumbles, “...I was gonna wait until we win the game tomorrow. Y’know, since we’ll be goin’ to state that way. Maybe it’ll, I dunno...help change her mind.”

“...well I hope she says yes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’ve liked her a long time, man. Maybe we’ll both have better luck this time around.”

Naruto blinks. “...it’d be nice.”

“...well, speaking off, I better get home,” Sasuke then offers, hopping off the wall. “I gotta get my homework done and get to bed early so I’m not tired for the game.”

“Hey, you wanna do mine, too?”

“Yeah, right. Just go home and do it! There’s only a few more weeks left, you can tough it out, dude.”

The blond pouts. “Yeah, yeah...see ya tomorrow.”

“Later.” Hands in his pockets, Sasuke makes his way around to the parking lot, mind still abuzz with what-ifs. Maddening, he knows...but he just can’t help it.

...Hinata’s a nice person. He’s sure she’ll take it well. He’s just, well...a little afraid. This is his first time opening up like this, after all. He wants to do it right...and hopefully not have to deal with the fallout of things going south.

...he has a plan. Now to just...execute it.

.oOo.

(This is a sequel to days 149, 168, 183, and 271!) More sportsverse! Not...very much sports in this one, or even Hinata, but it's more of a like...transitional piece. I wanna say I've tackled this notion (Hinata 'settling' for Sasuke) before, but it was in the canon AU verse I write, so...different context, lol - and Sasuke's not about to stand for it here, either. I don't think Naruto means anything by it, he just wants to be sure Sasuke's feelings aren't one-sided. He's just trying to be a bro! Buuut, on that note, I reallllly need some sleep. I'm still two days behind and likely will be for...quite some time. At least through October with my other fanfic challenge going on. And irl has been...rough ^^; So thank you guys for your patience. One way or another, we'll make it to the end of the year, I promise! Some might just...be a lil late. We'll see~ But either way, thanks for reading!

#sasuhina #narusaku #uchiha sasuke #uzumaki naruto #best years of your life [ au ]#365daysofsasuhina

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howsit-going-toend · 7 years

Text

What Do YOU Want? Pt. 6

A Kwon Jiyong series ft. Kim Jiwon

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Word count: 3,500+

Summary: The most important person in the world to you can appear most often when you least expect it. But through everything, you can’t forget about you and your own happiness. Who are you happy with? Who is the best for you?

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 ... Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

(A/N: Yowza, the next part won’t be this long, I promise!! I just really loved writing this one, though this part probably contains the least amount of Jiyong thus far. As always, I hope you all enjoy it!!!)

“For the fifth time, yes, we’ll make sure you get a wig with short black hair.”

You were nearing the end of what turned out to be a surprisingly difficult rehearsal with iKon and were responding to all questions in between your panting. All along it had been extremely entertaining and your difficulty breathing mainly came from how often you’d burst out laughing at the way the 7 men attempted to be feminine. You should have accounted for the amount of effort it would take to get these boys to dance the way girl groups do.

“Short black hair will just work the best with my face. It’s my concept.” Junhoe was insistent, as per usual, that his good looks be maintained throughout the performance and the rest of you had a good laugh whenever it was brought back up.

“We don’t even know what wigs we’re getting yet; worry instead about not looking like such a caveman with your hip thrusts!” You passed B.I. an exhausted look that read “thank you,” as everyone laughed at the leader trying to keep his members focused on their femininity.

“All right, all right, we only have ten minutes left so let’s use it wisely, guys. Show me the opening formation one more time.” You instructed as the boys tiredly made their way to their positions and stood in a variety of hip accentuating poses. With laughter evident in your voice, you did your best to continue to give them constructive feedback.

“Ok. I like it, I’m liking it. I know you’re tired and just annoyed with how nitpicky I’m being but just make sure to smile a little when you’re up on stage! This should be fun!” They each immediately forced the biggest, fakest, smiles you’d ever seen, which had you on the ground laughing at how silly it looked with each of their poses.

“You guys are the best. Let’s just run through it all the way one more time and then I’ll let you go.” They each sighed in relief while you counted off the start of “Up & Down.” You watched them move around your studio, doing their best to be graceful, while you tried your best not to laugh through the entire song like you did the past four run-throughs. You found it even funnier that they were trying so hard to get each move right; every hair twirl and every hip shake hit with accuracy, down to the point of their toes.

Once they hit their last pose, you cheered exceptionally flamboyant and jumped up and down shouting “Great job girls!! Woo!”

“Yah! Y/N, are we done now? Can we go back to being men?” To no one’s surprise, Bobby was the least excited to act girly and he knew you were teasing them all because of it. It was actually really entertaining to hear them complain, because you knew they were all having fun; even Bobby.

“Yes, yes, you all get to leave me now. But only if you curtsy on the way out.”

They groaned in unison while you crossed your arms in response and stared them down. “And here I was missing you guys. Guess no one cares that this really will be the last time I work with you. ForEVER.”

“Yah! You don’t have to be so dramatic about it and make us feel bad!” Jinhwan exclaimed,

“You’re one to talk, ‘Jinny’.” Chanwoo got a laugh out of everyone but Jinhwan who shoved his shoulder in response.

“You know we’ll see you soon, Y/N! We can all go out for a group dinner once we have a break from touring.” You gave a smile and a bow to Donghyuk. You could always count on him to make the most genuinely thoughtful comments. “I can’t wait.” You replied.

You stood by the door, giving them each a hug after they curtsied, one by one, on the way out. Well, almost all of them.

Bobby, the last in line, stood in front of you with his arms crossed, mocking the look you gave them earlier. “If you think I’m giving you a curtsy you’re crazy.” He said in defiance. You chuckled, knowing he would say something like that. “I know. I know. You’re just too cool for curtsies. Whatever!”

His look of seriousness cracked into his trademark grin, as he pulled you in for a tight hug. “Well hey, we’re supposed to leave in a few days to continue the tour and I probably won’t be able to hang out until at least mid-July, so let’s do something tomorrow night!”

“Oh definitely! Just text me; we’ll figure something out.” You had found yourself hoping you’d get to hang out with Bobby before they left, so it made you happy when he was the first to suggest it. You finished saying goodbye and waved to him and the rest of the guys as they got into their van and drove away.

While you paced back through your studio, you caught a glimpse at your calendar above your front desk. Thinking back to where you might have been a year ago on this day, you found yourself actually smiling; because though you didn’t feel as happy, you knew that you would be soon. And you would be doing it all on your own.

The following afternoon, as you observed your advanced hip hop class, you were struck with inspiration. You remembered how you used to post videos of your classes back in the states that had garnered a lot of attention through YouTube, and soon found yourself breaking for a moment in search of your camera. It had been sitting in its carrying case in the trunk of your car for longer than you’d like to admit, but your dancers all beamed with excitement the moment you brought it inside.

You spent the last thirty minutes of the class taking clip after clip of different small groups performing the week’s choreography. Everyone hit each move with top precision and the strongest facial expressions you’d seen from them yet. They all badgered you to show the videos, but you denied them. “You’ll just have to catch yourselves on YouTube tomorrow! You shouldn’t need these videos to prove you guys did amazing today; I’ll see you all next week!” They groaned while you smiled in anticipation for all the positive feedback they had no idea they’d be receiving.

Since theirs was your only class of the day, you decided to lounge out in the front room of your studio and review everything you’d filmed. You fell backwards onto the one couch, leaving your legs to dangle over the arm, as you held your camera over your body and flipped through each piece of footage.

You recorded a lot more than you thought; most of it was definitely useful, but some of it ended up being deleted due to lack of focus or moments that the music got paused. You were in the middle of groaning at the sound of your own voice while you hit delete on the first video you’d taken that day; revealing the most recent video you’d recorded the last time you used that camera.

You nearly dropped the heavy piece of recording equipment right on your face when you saw the thumbnail. You’d know that living room anywhere.

Not bothering to even blink, you reached a shaking thumb to press the button to start the video; having zero recollection to its contents.

The camera panned across a black leather couch and down to a tiled floor as your bare feet came into view, walking forward. “Doo-doo-doooo-doodoo-doooo.” You were muttering a random, made-up tune to yourself while you paced through the living room. The lighting dimmed as it adjusted to the dark room you then walked into. You felt your hands get clammy as you continued watching, your feet still the center of the shot, as you approached the edge of a bed with dark colored sheets.

And there it was; that all too familiar bright orange head of hair, turned away from the camera in a deep slumber. You watched your hand come into view as you climbed onto the bed and turned the camera to get a better look at Jiyong’s face. Your breathing stilled as his makeup-clean face that you used to wake up to every morning came into focus.

You watched as your index finger made its way to his right cheek and poked it lightly. “Psssst…Jagi…Jagi…wake uuup.” You whispered as his eyebrows furrowed in response. He took a deep breath and let out a groan. “Nooo, let me sleep.”

“You’ve been sleeping all day though. I know it’s someone’s day off buuut I thought just maybe they’d want to spend some of it with me.” He opened his mouth, as if about to disagree, when his eyes opened to the camera in front of his face before he got out a word. “Aishh, why do you always watch me when I’m sleeping?” His voice, though clearly tired, was evident with annoyance. He reached a hand up from the blankets and wiped his face before running his fingers through his hair.

“Hey, I thought you thought it was cute… I’m sorry, jagiya.” You could tell by your voice that you were embarrassed by his unexpected reaction, while the camera dropped to the bed and focused on a corner of the room. The sound of sheets rustling filled the speakers of the camera before Jiyong’s voice was heard again in a serious tone. “Please turn that off.”

“Ok.” Your voice was small as the speakers became muffled by your hands gripping the camera once more until the video turned off; allowing you to release the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. You remembered that day well; it was the last half of summer and Jiyong had just gotten back from being away on tour for three weeks and actually had a few days off.

You’d thought the two of you would do something together, as you’d been looking forward to seeing him again, but instead he slept. He was so exhausted, and you know that entirely justified him not spending the time with you; there was absolutely nothing wrong with it. This was just the start to a prolonged decline. If anything, this video was documentation of the beginning of the end of your relationship.

Your heart sank at the realization while you quickly turned your camera off and put it down before any tears made their way to the corners of your eyes.

He’s happy without me; I’m happy without him.

You repeated this thought to yourself several times before looking at the clock above your desk. Your stomach growled while you noticed it was nearing dinner time. You forced yourself to get off the couch and gather your things to head home as you reached for your phone.

Y/N: Hey, hey. Still want to hang tonight?

BB: Mmmm I guess

Y/N: Well, butthead, what do you want to do?

BB: Take it back, I was kidding! But I’m down for whatever. You hungry?

Y/N: Starving. Take-out at my place in 30?

BB: Down.

Surrounded by the empty boxes from enough takeout to feed a family of 4, Bobby and you sat back on your couch, rubbing your stomachs in content.

“Why did you make me eat all of that?” You whined, not even devoting the energy to moving your head to look at him when you said it.

“Take-out was YOUR idea.” He replied, also not willing to put any effort into moving.

“Mmm. Shut up and eat your fortune cookie.” You said while you reached into the nearest paper bag and threw the first cookie at him. You weren’t looking, but let out a chuckle when you heard the sound of the wrapper making contact with his chest and the fumbling of his hands trying to catch it.

With the sound of loud crunching filling the room without another word from him, you sprang your head up to look in his direction. He stopped chewing when he noticed you and started giggling; the cookie clearly on one side of his mouth, making his cheek poke out. “What?” he mumbled with his mouth full.

“Bobby, I know you didn’t just eat paper…” You reached for the other cookie while he widened his eyes mockingly and exclaimed “Yeah! Totally! I’m not that dumb, Y/N.”

“Where’s your fortune then, hmm?” You asked while you cracked your cookie open and waved the little piece of paper that was inside. He paused and looked down at his lap that was covered in blankets, Styrofoam boxes and plastic silverware; fumbling around trying to find it. About a minute later, you reached out and grabbed something off the collar of his sweatshirt and stuck his fortune to his forehead. “Found it.” He said triumphantly.

You rolled your eyes at him, and read yours out loud. “Things may seem difficult now, but it will all be worth it in the end.’ Huh, well that sounds relevant. I like it. What does yours say?”

Bobby looked down at his and smiled to himself before reading it out loud. “If you have an idea. Make it into reality; don’t let it go.” He simply nodded his head, looking pleased with his reading.

“Oh I like that one too. In fact, I have an idea. We should pull out Super Smash Bros and make a drinking game to go along with it.” You clapped your hands together, proud of your idea.

“I don’t know, Y/N. That sounds like a quick way to get…smashed.” He pulled the cheesiest grin while you threw a pillow at him and stood from the couch. “Aish. Shut up and come with me to pick up some drinks.”

Since you absolutely suck at most video games, it wasn’t long before you were drunk; especially after Bobby had the bright idea to make a rule that you have to drink every time your player unintentionally falls off the map. He knew all the right combos to use in fighting, but you managed to get him just as drunk with how often you threw items in his character’s face. That’s all you really knew to do, aside from hitting all the buttons on the controller and hoping for the best.

Before either of you knew it, 2am had arrived. Naturally, you’d both fallen over at some point in the game and continued to play while your head rested on Bobby’s knee and he partially laid over your back. Your faces hurt from how much laughing you’d been doing, coupled with the amount of booze in your systems.

“Holy shit, it’s getting late.” You declared while you both did your best to sit up.

“Yeah it is. I’ll wander out of here soon.” He said with a yawn, while you looked at him like he was crazy. There was no way you’d let him drive home like this; let alone walk the whole way at this hour.

“Ha, yeah, no you’re not. You can sleep here, I don’t mind at all.” You got up from the couch and stumbled over to your hall closet where you kept spare blankets and pillows, not allowing him to deny the invitation.

He helped you make a spot for himself on the couch, while you both gulped down some water to help clear your heads.

“Thank youuu, Y/N.” Bobby said as he pulled you in for a hug goodnight. “Anytime, punk.” You replied as you reached up on your tiptoes and ruffled his hair.

You wandered over to your bedroom and got ready for bed; throwing on an oversized shirt and a pair of boy shorts. You passed your camera bag on the ground as you went to lay down and stood still for a moment; finding yourself contemplating on looking at whatever other footage might be on that memory card.

Your slightly drunk mind was taking the wheel as you convinced yourself to kneel down and take the camera out. If that last video was the start of the bad memories, maybe there are a lot of good memories in here too.

As your mind flooded with what else could possibly be captured in that camera from your relationship with Jiyong, you heard a distinct rustling from the living room; interrupting your thought process. Without thinking, you quickly put the camera back in the bag and listened closer out your open bedroom door. You heard light groans of frustration and a lot of rustling of couch cushions, while you held in a laugh.

“Bobby.” You called, as the sounds immediately stopped now that he knew you could hear him.

“…yes?” He asked timidly, making you release your giggle. “Is that couch a little too small for you?” You didn’t even think about that; Bobby was nearly half a foot taller than you and even you had to curl up slightly when laying on that couch. “…kind of. I can just sleep on the floor though, it’s ok!”

“Bobby, do you want to just sleep in here with me?” You surprised yourself as you said those words out loud. He paused, feeling just as caught off guard by the question as you were. “…what? Like in your room on the floor?”

“No, dummy, like in my bed, with me. It’s more comfortable than that couch and it’s definitely better than the floor.”

“Are…are you sure?” Even though you were both still slightly drunk, he was hesitant to take you up on the offer. “Yes, I’m sure.” You laughed. “Now come on, I’m sleepy.”

You covered your mouth to keep from laughing too audibly when you heard him knock into the coffee table as he got up from the couch. He appeared in your doorway with a pillow and a bashful grin that he was clearly trying his best to fight off. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You laughed and said in a deep voice, mimicking him. He laughed a little too loud and made his way in as he accidentally kicked the bed frame. You couldn’t help but find his sudden shyness to be quite cute.

He walked slowly to the other side of the bed, not wanting to appear too eager. You pulled the blanket back and patted the area of the mattress beside you, while he obliged.

“You don’t have to sleep here if it makes you uncomfortable though, Bobby. I just figured it was fine since we typically end up cuddling when we drink together anyways.”

“No, no, I don’t have a problem with it! It’s just been a long time since I’ve shared a bed with someone for the night is all.” You could hear the sincerity in his voice.

You paused. “Me too, I understand where you’re coming from.” You turned towards him and propped your head up on your elbow as you got an idea. “Well, hey, let’s just talk a little more to make it easier, you know? I think we both deserve a good night’s sleep in a bed and not on that couch or my floor.” He chuckled and turned towards you, in agreement.

It’s a wonder how much more you’re able to learn about a person when you’re lying beside them in a bed, rather than anywhere else. You didn’t even have to go on a tangent, asking about where he went to middle school, whether he grew up with cable, or what his favorite fruits were; you could feel it. You felt the two of you knowing each other better just in the small conversation you shared in that moment. You both laughed as you yawned at the same time, having continued talking longer than expected. He reached over to your nightstand and turned off the lamp at your request; filling the room with darkness.

“Hey, uh, can we cuddle? Is that weird to ask right now?” You whispered after the two of you laid in silence for what felt like thirty minutes. The alcohol in your system had you craving skinship and closeness and knowing that Bobby was right there next to you was more than enough to keep you awake.

He laughed lightly at your question. “I mean, I don’t think it’s weird. Like you said, we usually end up doing so anyways.” You felt your cheeks redden at the sound of his voice whispering to you through the darkness. Despite the amount of liquid courage still in your body, you felt yourself become the nervous one, as you buried any and all thoughts clinging to the sound of Bobby’s voice.

Making the first move, you pushed yourself over to his side of the bed and wrapped your arm across his torso, while you laid your head on his chest. He wrapped one arm around you, holding you securely to him as he let out a contented sigh.

You felt both of your bodies completely relax in that moment, as silence engulfed the dark room. His toned body felt more like a cushion beneath you and your eyelids became significantly heavier. You smiled into his chest and allowed your eyes to close when you felt his other hand slowly move across your back, rubbing it soothingly.

“Goodnight, Bobby.” You whispered to him as you lifted your head, using your nose as a guide through the dark, and left a light kiss on his cheek before returning to lay on his chest.

You heard his breathing hitch, making you slightly regret allowing the alcohol in your system to have you make such a bold move, but he recovered quickly with a chuckle. “Goodnight, Y/N.” A smile was evident in his voice, as he drifted off to sleep. You were enjoying laying there more than you thought you would; wrapped in Bobby’s strong arms while the alcohol on your breath and his wafted together.

The feeling of déjà vu officially sank in as the sound of his heartbeat steadily lulled you to sleep.

#kim jiwon scenarios #what do you want #g dragon scenarios #kpop scenarios #g dragon fanfiction #g dragon #bigbang scenarios

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