#//maybe the occasional neon or yellow green

[mechahero]

oops! (almost) all blue!

[avianyuh]

Lecture Notes | Jake Sim

Summary: In which Y/N, a college student, can’t seem to focus in her psychology lecture due to an attractive boy. The culprit? Apparently his name is Jake. 

Word Count; 4.5k

Isn’t it funny how a man can completely derail your priorities? Okay, let me explain myself.

There I was, sitting in my psychology lecture, notebook open, wearing my comfiest sweater and sweatpants. After all, it was a Friday lecture. I was mentally done with the week and already planning out my watchlist of movies for the weekend. And of course, studying, (If I had time…)

What was comical about that Friday, and almost a quarter of the semester's lectures, my notes would start out strong, really organized. I’m talking color coded with six different colors; light blue, peach, neon pink, yellow, pastel green, and a very pretty shade of lavender. Bullet pointed, sectioned by main and sub topics. The whole nine yards. But then, after about a page, the notes would start to look sloppy, then, absolutely nothing. I paid the price on my midterm for the lack of proper note taking by the way. Sorry to Sigmund Freud. Upon first inspection, it would seem like psychology is not my strong suite. But that argument is easily debunked by my last A grade from my last semester's psychology class.

So, what’s the problem? Well, it’s this guy. And in my defense, I see other girls getting distracted by him too! Which I secretly hate, but hey, he’s not my boyfriend. I’ve had one encounter with him, three weeks ago, a Monday to be exact. He sat in front of me and handed me a paper that needed to be passed back. Our fingers touched and I noticed how calloused they had felt. Call me a loser, but I sat there for the rest of the lecture hypothesizing why his fingers felt so rough. Yet again, I completely fault myself for doing so badly on that midterm.

His name is Jake. The reason I know his name is because I heard the professor call him by his name a few times. All I really know about him is that he comes into class routinely late. In the beginning of the semester, he would come in 5 minutes late. At first the professor took notice and called him out, but after the second week, he for some reason seemed to look the other way and Jake started showing up 10 minutes late, which has become the norm. He tip-toes to wherever his friend is sitting, high-fiving him and slinking down in his seat. But, I’ll give him credit, once he actually makes it to class, he takes a lot of notes, occasionally volunteering an answer or question. I don’t know what it is about him. Maybe his voice? It’s really calming, he’s pretty soft-spoken. Plus, the fact that he has an accent, my guess would be Australian? But I don’t know that many people with accents so maybe he’s English? I’ll probably never know…Or maybe it’s his eyes that make him so attractive? He has these kind, brown eyes. To me, he’s just intriguing. I know nothing about him other than the fact that his time management skills are horrible and he has a large group of friends. I see him around on campus a lot. A swarm of people follow him around, always laughing. I also can’t help but notice the rotation of girls that seem to be on his arm every other week. They always look so happy with him. Usually the girl is walking with him, staring at him adoringly, but he’s always looking straight ahead. I never understood that.

And not too long after I see him with one girl, there’s a new one doing the exact same thing. Right after I had that passing the paper back encounter with him, I saw him walking on campus with this girl. Like I said, normally, he’s looking straight ahead, but this particular time, he looked right at me as we passed each other. I quickly averted my gaze away from him, internally screaming all the way back to my dorm room.

One time I went to a party with a friend of mine. She made me go, and said it would be fun. What a liar… So I get there, the dorm room is packed, barely any room to move around. The room was decorated with LED lights that were all red, I swear it looked like a rave or something. Turns out, I have claustrophobia by the way. I felt like I couldn’t breathe due to the lack of personal space. I saw Jake there, which in hindsight wasn’t very surprising because it seemed like my whole campus was trying to fit into that dorm room and hallway. I sat in the corner with my friend who 20 minutes into the party was also starting to come down with a case of party-goer's remorse. I watched from that stool in the corner as he danced with his date. How they made out against the wall. I even watched when he stumbled to the cooler to get another drink, obviously drunk. Then I saw him wander back over to her, and accidently spill his drink all over her blouse. The people in the surrounding area all went Oooooo, and the girl gasped. Stomping her foot, she yelled out, “What the fuck Jake?! You did that on purpose!” Then she shoved him. Now, in her defense, I could see that he was trying to conceal his laughter as he handed out some half-assed apology. She stormed out of the party, leaving him and his friends in hysterics. “Babe, I’m sorry, but accidents happen.” Jake threw his hands up defensively as his friends laughed at her. That next Monday in class I didn’t even notice that he had snuck in. And for a few days, I honestly thought I was over my little infatuation with Jake. I choked it up to him being an attractive douchebag.

But remember, I said I thought I got over my infatuation. And here I am. Sitting in class, empty seat to my right. The person who usually sat there, a guy with a buzzcut who always came in with a cup of coffee from the coffee cart outside and his giant water bottle, was seemingly missing. Overall, a quiet guy. The few times I had spoken to him had been pleasant. Just a few basic, ‘Hey's' and ‘Nice weather, right?’ or even a ‘Nervous about the exam?’.

15 minutes into my lecture. It was a rainy day. I already mentioned my lecture attire, my sweater, a tan colored cozy knit one and my black sweatpants. My notes were organized and I was actually pretty invested in the topic today. Everything was going well, but I couldn’t wait to be done for the day and back in my bed. After all, it was cold and dark outside. But then, the sound of the door creaking open, the gust of wind that came along with it hitting me and making me shiver. I didn’t even have to look up to know who it was. I could hear his footsteps, searching for wherever his friend was sitting. But this time, the footsteps started to sound more frantic. I could hear him pacing, but I refused to look in his direction. After all, I was supposed to be focused on my professor, not him. And I saw first hand how much of an inconsiderate jerk he could be at that party. He wasn’t worth the distraction and another week of incomplete lecture notes. Then the footsteps started to get closer. Going from a distant tapping sound to almost a persistent stomp.

And that’s when I felt a tap on my shoulder. “Um, excuse me?” That familiar voice, just a whisper, was now in my ear. “Is anyone sitting here?” I looked up at him, taking note of his beautiful smile as I nodded my head yes to his question. His closed lip smile transformed into a full toothed one, “Thanks!” he said enthusiastically. I quickly looked back down at my notebook, scribbling down what was on the board. I suddenly felt hyperconscious of my breathing. How loud or erratic it may have sounded to the insanely attractive Australian next to me. I wondered if he could hear me swallowing. And I prayed that my stomach wouldn’t make any noise for the rest of the class, considering I felt myself becoming hungry. I tried to be as quiet as possible. Also trying to make sure that my elbow didn’t accidentally touch his. A few minutes later, I felt him nudge my arm. At first I didn’t look because I thought it was a mistake. “Excuse me?”, he whispered again. I turned my head to face him, looking over expectantly as I waited for him to continue asking his question “Sorry, I don’t mean to bother you, but would you mind if I looked at your notes? I know I should have gotten here sooner… I get it though if you don’t want to share…” he rambled. I held up my hand up in front of his face, stopping him from whispering.

“Sure, I don’t mind.” I shrugged as I moved my notebook closer to him.

“Thank you so much!” he exclaimed as he started to copy them down.

“No problem.” I replied. Well, there goes another week of half-complete notes, I thought to myself as I tried to refocus my attention back on the professor. By the end of the lecture, Jake had taken down all my notes and I had missed the second half of the lecture. As I started to pack up my things and head out, Jake did the same. Normally he rushes right out and has a group of people waiting for him outside of the lecture hall. Today, he was lingering. And then just as I was zipping up my bag, he cleared his throat. I looked up at him and he stared back at me, looking like he wanted to say something.

“I just wanted to say thank you again for letting me copy the notes down. You have great note taking skills, not to mention, really nice handwriting.” He complimented me, that same warm smile on his face. I couldn’t understand how someone could appear to be so kind, yet come off as so inconsiderate of other people. Nonetheless, I couldn’t help but admit that I was flattered by the compliment.

“Oh, thank you. I actually always thought my handwriting was sloppy.” I responded back. Throwing my bag over my shoulder and pushing my chair in. I stared out the window, noticing the light rain had now turned into a heavy downpour. I groaned as I laid my bag back on the table, unzipping it and pulling out my jacket and umbrella. Jake looked at me in confusion upon hearing me groan, before peeking past my shoulder and letting out an understanding ‘Ah’ before doing the same as me. We stood in silence as we both put on our jackets. I made the first move to leave, though he was closest to the aisle. He made no attempt to move as I tried to maneuver around him.

He stopped me again, speaking up, “I feel kind of bad. You missed out on taking notes for the second half of the lecture because of me.” He continued, moving out of my way. “Do you have any other classes today?” he questioned. I pursed my lips together as I tried to figure out a response to his first statement and more importantly, what he was trying to imply with the question regarding my schedule.

“Well, first of all, it’s okay, I was paying attention so I’ll probably just go home and try to write whatever I remember down. But to answer your question, no I don’t have any other classes today.” I decided to be truthful with him, as I assumed he was just asking me to be nice for letting him copy my notes.

“So you were going back to your dorm after this?” He raised his eyebrow. I let out an awkward laugh.

“Um, yeah, it’s a torrential downpour out there, my hiking plans have been ruined for the rest of the day.” I responded sarcastically. To my snarky response, his warm smile now morphed into a devilish grin.

“Instead of sitting inside all night, why don’t I buy you a coffee and give you the rest of the notes” Jake proposed. To that question, I gave him a puzzled look.

“But you didn’t get the rest of the notes either?” I responded back, confused.

“Yeah, but the professor keeps a copy of the lecture notes in that desk over there. And luckily for you, I know how to pick locks.” He bragged, pulling something pointy out of his pocket as he started to make his way down the steps towards the professor's desk.

“Wait, doesn’t he take his lesson plan with him?” I called out after him, looking around the two exits nervously, expecting someone to come in and catch Jake breaking into the professor’s locked drawer.

“Not on Fridays. You’d be surprised how many of the professors leave things out in plain sight.” He explained as he bent down so he was eye level with the drawer. He pulled out a lock pick and got to work. His eyes focused intently on the drawer.

“But this isn’t out in plain sight, you’re literally picking his lock…” You tried to rationalize.

“So…Who cares, he already taught it. It’s not like we’re cheating. We’re just going to get the notes and I’ll sneak back in and put it back before Monday morning. I do it all the time.” He got silent for a minute before he jumped up. “Aha!” and with that, the drawer was open. He pulled out the lecture plan, before he grabbed your hand with his free one and started running up the stairs. I tried to keep up with him, your head spinning by how weird your seemingly calm Friday had become. “Grab your bag. You know the coffee shop across from this building right?” He asked. I squinted my eyes before nodding as I threw my bag over my shoulder. “By the way…What’s your name?” Jake titled his head at you, waiting for a response.

“I’m Y/N.” I responded back, extended out my hand for a handshake. He smiled at me, making my heart sort of melt, before placing his hand in mine.

“Jake.” He said, and you pretended to act like you learning his name was a recent development.

“Nice to meet you, Jake”. I grinned as we both made your way out of the huge lecture doors. What was supposed to be a boring Friday just turned into one of the most surprising days of my life. By the time we made it to the coffee shop, fighting our way through the rain, and fully situated in the back of the coffee shop 10 minutes later, you pondered if all this really was going to amount to was a study date?You wondered if he had his next girl of the week yet? Or worse, what if you’d end up being his next temporary fix? You ended up telling yourself that you wouldn’t know how this would all pan out unless you gave him a chance. Part of you wanted to abandon whatever this was with Jake to go back to your dorm. A place where you didn’t feel self conscious in front of hot guys. The other part of you was really tempted to stay and try and see if there was more to him other than a cute accent, a rebellious streak and inviting eyes. I watched him closely, his back turned to face the counter as he placed the two orders. I noticed a friend of his had snuck up behind him, patting him on the back as they greeted each other. They were murmuring something to each other and I decided to look away before he caught me. I looked down at my phone as a way to look busy, but readjusted myself in the seat so I could get a small glimpse of Jake and his friend through my peripheral. All I could tell was that the conversation was light hearted, I heard something about an exam, a party over the weekend and then I heard his friend ask if he was at the coffee shop alone…To which I could see Jake out of the corner of my eye turn towards me. But they got kind of quiet as I assumed he was saying something about to his friend. I pretended to keep scrolling through my phone, even though I really had nothing to do on there. I texted my friend, who had hopefully finished all of her classes for the day. But to be honest, she was quite unreliable since she took a long time to respond to text messages. However this time after sending a quick, Hey, she surprisingly responded back almost instantly.

Hey! Done with all your classes?, she wrote.

Yeah. Going to go home pretty soon., I texted back.

Oh, you’re not home now? I was going to ask if you wanted to watch a movie? I have snaaacks… Now I’ll be frank, that offer did sound tempting.

I want to but I’m at the coffee shop trying to get some notes from this guy for my psychology class. It’s a long story. You explained.

WHO?! Anyone we know?, she questioned.

That guy Jake who I thought was cute…, I typed back.

Girl no! He’s such an asshole, remember that party?-

But before I could read the rest of her message, Jake appeared in front of me, setting down my coffee and sliding into the seat across from me. He gave me that beaming smile of his I had seen quite a lot of today. “Sorry, that took so long. I don’t know if you saw but that was my friend Jay.” He explained as he waved at his friend who was now on his way out of the coffee shop.

“Oh, no problem, the longer I sit here, hopefully the rain slows down and it’ll make the walk back to my dorm easier. But you didn’t take that long so don’t apologize.” I reassured Jake as he nodded understandingly. Jake stared at me for a minute, before opening and then closing his mouth, hesitant to speak. “What?”, I questioned, grinning at him. His eyes went wide, as he tried to conceal his smile. “No seriously? You looked like you were going to say something!”, I teased him, waving your hand for him to continue.

“No, it’s stupid.” he said under his breath. I hummed in response.

“Almost everything is stupid. Plus, I don’t judge.” I lied. The truth is, I can be pretty judgmental. Hey, I thought I had written Jake off as a douchebag, and I still wasn’t completely comfortable letting my guard down in front of him just yet.

“I don’t know, I just wish we had spoken to each other sooner. I’ve seen you around campus a few times and I knew we had a class together. But I never sat near you or anything pther than a few weeks ago...” He explained, avoiding eye contact with you. I took a sip of my coffee as I listened to Jake intently. “Plus, I know most people probably already formed their opinions of me…” He concluded.

“What do you mean?” I questioned, furrowing my eyebrows at him. He sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“Well, I come in late almost every class. And I know that’s fully on me. But I’m sure you’ve noticed?” he looked up at you hesitantly. I nodded my head in agreement and he groaned. You chuckled before trying to make him feel better.

“The professor doesn’t seem to care, so maybe it’s not a big deal? If it really bothered him, you probably would’ve been kicked out of the class.” I rationalized.

“He did want to kick me out of the class. Apparently my Dad made a phone call, they know each other from college. I got an angry call from him, telling me I was an embarrassment to the family, that I wouldn’t amount to anything, needed to get my act together, blah, blah, blah.” Jake’s voice got deeper, no, more frustrated as he looked as if he was thinking back to that said phone call. You leaned your arms on the table as you listened to him.

"Well…can I ask you a question if you promise to not get mad?” I tilted my head at him. He took a sip of his coffee as he hummed in response. “Why exactly do you come to class late?” He put down his coffee as he sighed again.

“Honestly? My other class is a business law one. It’s on the other side of the campus. One time I just skipped it, which was why I was on time for psychology. I explained it to my advisor and my father, but I can’t drop it because I need the credits. Whoever designed this campus was an idiot in my opinion.” He stated as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“That actually makes a lot of sense. I assumed that you just didn’t care enough to show up on time. But you always seemed interested because you’d ask a lot of questions so I was always kind of confused by the whole showing up late thing.” I explained as Jake kept his eyes on me. “Second question…how the hell did you get into the habit of picking locks to get the lecture plan.” I giggled, covering my mouth as he himself started to laugh.

“It was actually back in freshman year. I had been one of the last people in the room with a professor on a Friday. I noticed that she had left the lesson plan in her drawer. I needed a few more notes so I went down after she left the room and picked the lock. That was something I learned to do back when I was a kid. But all I did was copy what I needed and I put it back, I swear.” He explained, throwing his hands up defensively.

“Hey, I believe you. And if I didn’t say it before, I’m really thankful that you wanted to help me with the notes. You didn’t have to…” I responded.

“No, after all you did, it was only right. And now look, we got to know each other. I’m having a good time with you.” He confessed, fidgeting with his coffee cup. I mimicked his movements, starting to feel a little antsy. I toyed with the idea of laying out everything I was feeling about Jake with him. I was feeling unsure if he was truly just going to give me the notes and that would be it. I wondered if he just saw me as a potential friend. And of course, maybe he was into me, but I had no desire to date him for a week and then have to go the rest of college seeing a guy who dumped me around campus for two more years. But I guess I made the decision easy, because before I knew it, I was involuntarily blurting out all of my intrusive thoughts.

“Okay, I just have to ask now. I want to be transparent with you. I was aware of you before we officially met today. I also saw you around campus a lot. Is this simply just an exchange of notes and nothing more? It’s okay if that’s what this is, I mean, I get it. Or is this just you trying to be my friend? That’s fine too.” I halted my speech for a second, looking into his eyes. Now he was the one motioning for me to continue. His expression was more so on the serious side now as he waited to hear me out. “Or, um, are you interested in me? Oh god…” I hid my face in my hands as I mentally slapped myself for saying something that sounded so self absorbed. “I feel like an idiot. You probably have a girlfriend already, I always see you around campus with a different girl.” I decided I didn’t really need the notes after all. After all, what was another mediocre test grade? At least the first half of the notes were written down for the week, right? I stood up quickly, reaching for my coat and quickly throwing a few dollars on the table, a repayment for the coffee, though he hadn’t asked me to pay him back.

Jake quickly stood up, grabbing my hand, stopping me from reaching for my coat. “Wait, wait, wait. You didn’t even let me answer” He laughed lightheartedly as he tried to persuade you to sit back down. “I didn’t realize I was sending out so many mixed signals. I thought when I said that whole thing about seeing you around and wanting to talk to you, I made myself clear…” He rambled. But I was still confused by what he meant. And by the look on his face, he could tell you were still confused. “To be straight forward, yes. I sort of had the intention of asking you out. I like you.” I couldn’t help but feel my heart flutter upon hearing that. Then he continued, “I like how sarcastic you can be. And I really find how honest you are attractive, not to mention I think you’re gorgeous.” I hid my face again, but this time, he murmured no and raised your chin up so that you were looking right at him. “I thought this would be a great way to continue talking. I didn’t want to ask you out earlier because I didn’t want you to say no since we spent most of class just sitting, not really talking.” Jake explained. “And for the record, not all of those girls were people I was going out with. I went out with two different girls between freshman year and now. The rest have all been friends.”

I thought back to that party. The girl he was with who he spilled the drink on. I assumed the girl from the party was most likely his ex-girlfriend. Though I was still curious, I didn’t want to pry. At first you didn’t know how to respond to him. Overall, you were ecstatic on the inside. “I’m willing to go on an actual date with you. But preferably, not when it's thundering and down pouring.” I joked as I turned my head toward the huge coffee shop window.

“I agree.” Jake responded, laughing. “But, how about we wait the storm out here and I’ll walk you back to your dorm later?” You both looked at each other, smiling. You couldn’t help the blush that was now creeping up on your cheeks.

"After the notes though! That’s how this all started…” I said as we both pulled out our notebooks. Two hours later, another coffee, two sandwiches and a 10 minute walk to my dorm, I had a date scheduled for tomorrow night, exchanged phone numbers and a long story to tell my friend. And to think it was all thanks to notes…

[yjhariani]

Stealth Mission

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley X GN!Reader Word count: 1100± Warning: Profanity Summary: Annoying your husband in any way possible.

A/N: Still fixated on the idea of crossovering CoD and RE because. Maybe I should branch out and make the reader a part of SCP Foundation MTF.

Ever since you married Simon, you made it your objective to annoy him in any loving way possible. One of the ways to do so, you titled Stealth Mission. Not only because it required stealth, it would end up mostly redacted in the history book of your marriage.

The way you saw it was that both your work was so harsh and full of darkness that you two needed at least occasional light in between. So, you started it.

For example; Simon was getting ready to go to the gym. You scouted the area around his duffle bag. Once making sure that Simon was away from the area and that the area was clear (sometimes you bait him by putting his phone somewhere inside the house and calling it so he went to get it), you made your way in towards the duffle bag.

Eyes on and sharp, you went through his bag. You took out his shirt that was black in colour and replaced it with the package; a bright, pastel pink cropped shirt or a bright yellow tank top, maybe a neon green water bottle or red towel with hearts and flowers or cute little cats or puppies on it. 

You tucked it inside the bag, made sure that it was hidden. Once the package was delivered, you RTB (Return to Base—wherever the hell Simon was not).

A few minutes later, Simon left. In a few hours, he returned home to you waiting for him in the living room with your camera opened. He was wearing the package. Usually, you managed to take a couple of snaps before Simon looked at you disapprovingly.

Mission complete.

Another example; you waited until Simon fell asleep. Once he did, you very carefully removed yourself from the bed. You had direct intel that Simon’s phone was located on the nightstand. You located it precisely where he would usually put it.

You made your way to the other side very quietly and very stealthily. You stayed prone on the ground, but not after getting the target—Simon’s phone.

With a little bit of tech forgery, you unlocked the phone (in actuality, he made sure you could unlock his phone with a fingerprint or even your face as well as giving you the passcode). You connected the phone to a pair of earbuds that you had prepared to ensure that there would be no loud noises accidentally echoing.

From there, you downloaded the most obnoxious song—maybe Crazy Frog or Barbie Girl. Afterwards, you set his alarm with said downloaded song before making sure to disconnect the earbuds from the phone. Following that, you returned the phone to where it was before returning yourself stealthily to your side of the bed.

The next morning, you two were woken up by the most ridiculous song ever. You started the day with Simon calling you little shit.

Mission complete.

If you were not feeling too lazy, after making sure Simon could not catch you doing it, you would intentionally make an effort to pull a chair and put a lot of things on the higher shelves, just out of your reach. Every time you called for him to help you get them it would annoy him because you could simply pull a chair or something.

However, sometimes he was feeling generous and picked you up, letting you take whatever you were reaching for with your own hands. Simon rarely put you down immediately and you two ended up at least making out.

Another mission complete?

One time, you did the same thing throughout the whole week you two were home. You kept asking Simon if he had seen something that was in plain sight.

“Simon, did you see my phone?” you asked whilst holding your phone.

“In your hand, love,” Simon said.

Sometime later, you asked him, “Simon, have you seen that mug I just bought for you?” as you handed him said mug with tea that you brewed for him.

“You’re taking the piss?” Simon replied.

The next day, you just finished showering with only a towel on you and walked to where Simon was, asking, “Simon, I can’t find my towel.”

“Don’t make me rip it off you,” Simon warned.

At some point, you were doing laundry. You held the laundry basket in one hand and shouted Simon’s name.

“Everything alright, darling?” Simon asked.

“I brought the hamper here earlier, I don’t remember where I put it,” you answered.

A little frustrated, Simon was about to say something a little mean, but decided not to. Instead, he put up a finger.

“No,” he said. “I’m not doing this.”

The last one at the end of the week happened while he was lounging in the living room. You walked over, looking under the table, under the pillow, in between the seats.

Simon, at this point, knew what you were doing. He was about to ignore you, but he did not find it in his heart to do so.

“What are you looking for this time?” Simon sighed.

“I’m looking for my husband,” you stated.

There was a second passing of Simon furrowing his eyebrows before he stood up.

Uh-oh.

“Get over here,” Simon requested.

“Why?” you asked, holding back a laugh.

“Just get over here,” Simon replied and started walking towards you.

You stepped aside, around the table.

After another pause where the two of you were mapping the living room and tried to guess each other’s net move, Simon started literally chasing you around the living room. It got weird pretty quickly.

You rolled on the ground to avoid him and Simon started calculating his movement.

Hollowing your hand in front of your mouth, you said, “This is Y/N to HQ, requesting immediate backup.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” you heard Simon muttered as he continued to chase you around the living room.

“Eyes on armed tango in the up right,” you continued. “Fucking beefy, fucking scary, and fucking handsome.”

“Y/N, stop this!” Simon insisted, but you started to see him smiling a little bit.

Grinning, you tried to make your way out of the living room, getting chased by Simon before getting tackled by him onto the sofa.

“Contact! I’m hit!” you announced. “Going dark!”

“Going dark?” Simon repeated, half chuckling.

“I don’t know why I said that,” you chuckled.

Simon only looked at you for a moment, a thin smile bloomed on his face.

“Remind me why we’re married again?” Simon said.

“Oh, we got our wages raised if we’re married and I got a house,” you said.

“Right,” Simon nodded.

“I also seem to remember that you said that I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you,” you teased.

“I’m changing my mind just this second,” Simon said.

“And you still love me anyway. How’s that making sense?” you replied.

Instead of answering that, Simon started kissing you.

Mission complete.

If you were not feeling too lazy, after making sure Simon could not catch you doing it, you would intentionally make an effort to pull a chair and put a lot of things on the higher shelves, just out of your reach. Every time you called for him to help you get them it would annoy him because you could simply pull a chair or something.

However, sometimes he was feeling generous and picked you up, letting you take whatever you were reaching for with your own hands. Simon rarely put you down immediately and you two ended up at least making out.

Again, these missions would end up being redacted in the history book of your marriage and the only people who would know about these missions were the people involved; you and him.

However, next time, though, you might have to buy some Nerf guns.

[chowdersinterlude]

Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss

you sigh and start to get dress,

Putting on a ‘extra nice’ outfit just in case your man actually DOES come to your job,

But you do have doubts because Ochako IS known for teasing you.. BUT

What if it was true that THE Sero Hanta goes to the coffeehouse YOU work at? your celebrity crush, well.. she kinda said he looks at you

But you never notice because of your headphones blasting HIS music.

Your so deep in thought you don’t even realize your in front of the coffeehouse until you see the neon yellow sign ‘IGN COFFEE’,

“Welp Here we go..”

A sigh leaves your lips as you try to calm your tensed nerves, when you walk in through the doors you hear a faint ‘ding!’ Of the bells on top of the frame

“Y/N!! You took foreverrr” Izuku exaggerates and pulls you into a long needy hug

“Iida was nagging me about you not being on time” he rolls his eyes in annoyance and goes behind the shiny marble counter

“Well what can I say? I’m Tenya’s fav” you let out a confident chuckle and shrug your shoulders

“Yeah sure, the drama queen who’s always late is the boss's favorite?” He glances at you with a sly grin.

You walk behind the counter and pinch his cheek

“I influence you too much don’t I?” You smile and walk toward the wall to tie the olive green apron around your waist

“Did you hear about what Ochako said?” You lean on the counter looking at Izuku

“What? About Sero?”

“Mhm” you glance at his scar-filled hands then back at his emerald green eyes

“Oh yeah! I’ve seen him a couple of times, he’s always staring at you” he wipes the screen of the tablet in front of him

“WHAAAA??? AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME??” You shout angrily whacking him in the back of head

“You would’ve got mad at me if I bothered you while listening to your music” he shrugs,

His words aren’t false butttt THE Sero Hanta looking at you??

That’s a big deal

You squint at him and grit your teeth

“Wait y/n look” izuku nudges you nodding his head toward the door

“Whattt???” You look at the door and your heart DROPS

Sero Hanta, the lead singer of cellophane, in the flesh.

“Happy now? Finally get to see your boyfriend” izuku teases you and waves at the spiky black haired man

“Hey back again?” Izuku grins and turns on the tablet

“Oh so your friend finally doesn’t have her headphones on huh?” Sero’s voice is like a kiss on the lips

Tender and passionate, He’s not even singing and he sounds hot.

“I heard your show is gonna be near here in two days” Izuku is the best wingman ever, he knows what he’s doing, he’s trying to make him ask you to go

“Yeah, Anyways.. can I get my usual?” His raspy voice mutters out

“Mhm… a pastry today? Or is Mina not feeling like it?” Izuku’s puffs out a sigh while his nails continues to tap at the screen

“Ehh? I’ll just get it to make sure”

“Alright $11.35” Izuku sets his gaze on the laid back man

Sero reaches in his pocket, earning an occasional rustle of his keys, and pulls out this leather wallet, as he pulls money out and closes it, you catch a glimpse of the tiny polaroid in a see-through patch

It’s a recent picture,

But with Izuku..

Is Izuku friends with them?

While Izuku goes in the back to prepare his order, you follow him and slide next to Izuku.

“Hey Izu.. are you friends with the members of cellophane?”

Your question makes his shoulders go up

You caught him

“SO YOU ARE?! AND YOU DIDN'T TELL USSS??” You slump on his shoulder

“I just didn’t want you guys to use me for ittt” he strokes your hair with his free hand and walks towards the counter

“But Izuuu” you follow him while he walks to Sero

“Are you guys dating?” Sero tilts his head as he takes the order

“Nope, never” Izuku points at you

“Maybe you should ask her on a date, yknow?” Izuku shoots a cocky smirk at Sero when he watches his face flush red

“Oh c'mon Sero, your always staring at her, why not give her your number?”

Your face is burning watching Sero write down his number on an extra receipt

“Uhm.. text me alright?” Sero shoots a smile at you and walks out

Your eyes are glued to the door as he left

“So? I guess miss y/n has a date?” Izuku snaps his fingers in front of you

“Earth to y/n?”

“You just got THE Sero Hanta’s number, you good?” Izuku waves his hand in front of your eyes

“Yeah yeah I’m gonna.. uhm go home” You untie the apron and storm out the coffeehouse,

Ochako HAS to know about this,,

+ ( Y/N was gonna text Ochako after she texted sero but ended up going to sleep PEACEFULLY and HAPPILY)

+ Sero was too shy and flustered to respond so denki took over on the last part

+ y/n refers to sero as “THE Sero Hanta” because she has the most massive crush on this man and she thinks NOBODY can top him

+ while this cute love story is happening, Kirishima starts to notice a upcoming artist? Who the hell is Tokoyami??

+ Y/N is like a older sister to izuku

+ NEXT CHAP IS GONNA BE LONGER, THIS ONE WAS RUSHED BC I HAD TO SLEEP SORRY LOVES</33

+ y/n didn’t respond to sero’s question the first time cause she was giggling and kicking her feet💕

Taglistt!! : @idkidk32 @babylambdietcoke @soupbowl18 @shifting-taylorsversion

[faulty-writes]

[ Hello followers and or fans. I present to you a Tomura Shigaraki piece! This was inspired by the game Coffee Talk. I haven’t finished it, so no spoilers, please. Speaking of which, this piece may have minor manga spoilers so beware. There are also minor themes of kidnapping, a touch of blood, and unwanted affection. It’s Shigaraki, so shouldn’t really expect anything less. ]

[ Being the owner of a coffee shop wasn’t easy, but you found purpose in it. While you were used to all sorts of characters entering your shop for a late-night cup of joe, none was stranger than the hooded man who began frequenting your shop. After a small conversation with him, you’re left feeling a bit shaken. Little do you know that he’s Tomura Shigaraki and he has plans for you. ]

As Tomura sat at his table in the corner of the small coffee shop in Esuha City, his partially gloved hands tightly gripped the cup of coffee he held. It burned him up to see you converse with another man who was one of those lame so-called “heroes.”

A young and ignorant one at that, who thought boasting about being assigned to night patrol for the first time was some monumental accomplishment. Spoiler alert: It wasn’t. He didn’t bother to catch the stupid hero’s name, not that it would matter.

But he had the most irritating suit that consisted of a yellow visor, and a white skin-tight top with some obscure number written across it. He also had yellow and green shoulder pads and a long red cape with matching red gloves, blue pants, and white knee-high boots.

His hair was styled in the most idiotic way Tomura had ever seen. Seriously, who spikes up their hair like that? His eyes were also beady and blue. But what was most irritating was that smile. Damn, he’d like to take a hammer and impact those teeth.

This wasn’t what made his blood boil, however. Oh no. It was the fact that you smiled and laughed at the pathetic excuse for a hero’s lame jokes. Like super lame jokes. Yeah, maybe you were just being polite. Business was business.

This didn’t cross Tomura’s mind. He thought your actions were genuine, and damn, did that piss him off. Why the hell were you even entertaining heroes? Yeah, your coffee shop was relatively new to the area, but it had unique features that set it apart from the competition.

For starters, it opened during the evening and remained open until dawn. You were a lifesaver for those who started their work shift at night. You also helped struggling students who needed a boost of caffeine and a quiet place to work on their assignments.

Or idiot wannabe heroes who thought they were just so cool because they patrolled the streets under moonlight. He clenched his jaw. Oh, if only he knew where the egotistical idiot was patrolling, he’d easily end his damn life. Turn him into nothing but a miserable pile of dust.

It was almost laughable to think that you didn’t even know he was one of the most feared villains in Japan and the leader of The League of Villains. Then again, ignorance was bliss and even villains needed a break occasionally.

This was another reason he tolerated frequenting your shop even if he just stumbled into it one night after “taking care of business.” From what he could recall that night he found himself on the edge of collapsing from exhaustion. It had been pouring rain and he was staggering along the crowded sidewalk.

His anger grew with everyone that passed him and the urge to disintegrate them was intensifying. He was wearing his usual get-up that evening: a large, oversized hood that concealed his face, long skinny jeans that ended just above his ankles, and his usual red sneakers.

He growled in frustration and reached up to wipe his face, but it was of no use considering the rain continued to come down. However, when he lowered his hand, he saw it. The neon sign gleamed through the rain and drew him in like a beacon.

This is also when he made the, admittedly, stupid choice to seek temporary shelter in your establishment and possibly hold everyone hostage if needed. He remembered the sickening warmth that washed over him, in contrast to the cold weary weather when he stepped inside.

He also recalled how the scent of coffee filled his nostrils, along with hints of cinnamon and honey. But what was most eye-catching was you. From the moment he spotted you behind the counter crafting one of your specialty drinks that wasn’t even on the menu for some useless dirtbag present in your shop at the time, he was intrigued.

Of course, that was another unique aspect of your establishment. You were known for your experimental drinks and always wanted to see how well they did with the few customers you had. Regardless, the way you gracefully moved behind the counter made him mesmerized.

He remained frozen at the door, seemingly in a trance until you looked at him and casually welcomed him to the shop. Your equally sickening smile seemed to churn something deep inside him and instead of feeling exhausted, a new and strange emotion enveloped him.

Maybe it stemmed from the fact that even if he looked like a drenched rat who just finished fighting its way through the sewers and onto the streets of the world above, you showed him kindness. He walked to the counter, ignoring the looks of concern from people he didn’t give a damn about.

Hell, he could easily murder them if given the chance. He laid his hands on the counter, ensuring that his thumbs were tucked inward and pressed against the bottom of his palms. His hood continued to cast a shadow over his face, and despite his intense red eyes staring you down, your stupid smile remained.

“What would you like to drink?” You asked, making his lips turn upward in a snarl. “Nothing,” he barked back. He had no money, not that he would pay even if he wanted anything from the shitty excuse for a coffee shop. As if sensing his hostility, you took a step back and cocked your head, appearing more like a puppy than a barista.

But the way your eyes studied him as if looking through his soul, made him curl his hands into fists. It was clear he was getting annoyed, both because of your reaction and the few customers observing his interaction with you. Then you said something he didn’t expect, “It’s on the house.”

At first, he thought it was because, to you, he looked homeless. Maybe down on his luck, but that didn’t make sense. You could have easily told him to leave if he didn’t order anything, and what authorized you to give drinks on the house?

That’s when something clicked and after glancing around to see if there were any other baristas present, he came to the only conclusion that was possible. ‘Hm…so you’re the owner, huh?' He remained quiet and briefly glanced at the menu.

You noticed what he was doing and glanced at it too, but it was challenging to know exactly what he was looking at. So instead, you suggested, “An expresso maybe?” His eyes tore from the menu and lingered on you for a long moment.

Then he shoved his hands into his pockets, marched over to the table in the corner of your shop, and carelessly plopped down. You blinked, somewhat perplexed but grabbed a coffee cup and began making the espresso for him. He wasn’t the first hard-headed customer you had encountered.

Another wave of exhaustion enveloped him, and he closed his eyes briefly, almost ready to give in when he heard something. It sounded like two glass objects scraping against one another. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was you and that damned smile. The second was the expresso sitting on a saucer plate.

A soft growl rumbled in his throat. He wasn’t sure if he was more irritated that you had given him something he didn’t even ask for or the fact that he let you get away with it. He could easily turn everyone in the cafe into dust, including you…so why didn’t he?

“Pff,” he grumbled and slowly straightened his posture before slipping two fingers through the cup’s handle. He brought it to his lips and paused when he noticed you were still standing near him. “Go away,” he demanded, his words coming out with a snarl.

“Oh, uh, sure!” You replied, nervously scampering away like a frightened rabbit back to the safety of its burrow. Yet, it was this moment that burned into his memory and kept him returning. Over a short time, however, his slight curiosity about you turned into an obsession.

The same obsession that burned with unmistakable fury whenever someone else captured your attention, even if for a moment. “Heh, well it was super amazing talking to you but I gotta go! See ya!” When that damned blond-headed idiot of a hero finally left, Tomura sighed, and his tense muscles relaxed.

He leaned back in his chair and glanced around. There were still a few people present, one at the counter mindlessly playing on their phone. Another sitting on the far side of the said counter, reading a book and casually taking sips of their drink.

The last one sat in the opposite corner away from everyone, typing on their laptop. “Tch,” he clenched his jaw and dug his nails into the table. He wanted them to leave so he could finally be alone with you. But if that’s the game they wanted to play, he’d wait them out. Oh yes, he would win.

Slow and steady, as much as he hated it, was the right approach to this situation. Like any good villain, he wasn’t about to deviate from the plan brewing in his mind. Oh no. He’d be patient. Like an animal stalking its prey and pouncing at exactly the right moment. So, there he remained, studying every move you made.

From the way your fingers grazed along the machines, to the way you poured milk into lattes and skillfully morphed it into art. He burned every facial expression you made into his mind. He pondered how it would be to see that sweet face turn into horror when you realized who he was.

The cafe emptied shortly after two in the morning. A twisted smirk danced across his face when he pressed his foot against the floor and slid his chair back to create an eerie scraping noise that echoed through the building and caught your attention.

To his amusement, you jumped, and your pretty little eyes were filled with concern as they looked in his direction. He tried to suppress the chuckle building up in his throat and went to the counter. Your back was now turned to him, seemingly over the slight scare he had given you.

He briefly glanced at the counter, noticing an empty cup sitting on a saucer. He grinned and picked it up, hovering it just over an inch above the counter before releasing it. He took pride in watching you jump and spin on your heels. Your eyes were yet again wide, and fear sparkled in them.

That made his lips curl into a wicked smirk. He couldn’t help but think about how he’d love to see that look in your eyes every day. Oh yes, what a good little addition you’d make to The League. Then again, he didn’t want to share you per se, so maybe he’d just keep you to himself.

Kurogiri would have some questions, he knew. It was almost pathetic that he needed a caregiver, but Kurogiri was trained to obey his every order. However, as of late, Tomura noticed a concerned and suspicious leer in those yellow eyes. Of course, that was something only an idiot would miss.

For now, he was focused on you and the way your hand was still pressed against your chest as you looked at him, still as a statue. “Uh heh…” you chuckled, sensing the awkward tension in the air. Then a thought dawned on you that this man had wandered into your cafe when it was raining particularly hard one night a few months back.

In addition to providing a welcoming environment, you connected with your customers and assisted them in any way you could. This usually involved letting them talk through their problems and sharing advice. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case with this mysterious man.

He didn’t budge no matter how hard you tried to crack his shell and rarely spoke more than three words to you. If you were being honest, after that night, you thought you’d never see him again. Yet, to your surprise, he continued to return.

Another thought dawned on you as he continued to stare at you from across the counter. This was that you didn’t even know his name. Even if you did, it wouldn’t change that there was something about him you couldn’t place.

Ultimately, however, you knew it was wrong to judge a book by its cover. Even though that was quite hard not to do considering he never showed his face, some kind of hood was always hiding it. “Uh, hello,” you said, shifting your feet.

Your greeting was met with silence and the tension seeping through the air grew thicker with each second that passed, slowly suffocating you. For a moment, you thought it was because of the lack of customers and tried to convince yourself that if your cafe wasn’t empty, this would feel less…strange.

But another part of you couldn’t help but, again, feel there was something sinister about him. Although he had done nothing wrong…yet. “Uh,” you cautiously approached him, “is there something you need?” That same wicked smirk decorated his lips, and he took a seat at the counter, resting his arms against it.

His gaze was intense, and the longer he stared at you, the more your heart raced. His smirk then softened, and he leaned his elbow on the counter, cradling his cheek in his hand. “So,” the raspy sound of his voice shattered the silence that permeated the air, “what do you think of All Might?”

You knit your eyebrows, shocked that he spoke more than three words, and asked you a question on top of it. You had a front-row seat for most of the conversations at your cafe, conversations that sometimes, discussed heroes, and on occasion, the number one hero, All Might.

“Um…” you glanced away, uncertain how to answer. You had never been asked exactly what you thought of him! You knew many people admired and adored All Might and for obvious reasons. It surely wasn’t an easy feat becoming the number one hero, let alone retaining the spot for as long as he did.

But were you obsessed with him like others? Did you rush to get his autograph whenever you saw him? Not really. Maybe that was because you were busy trying to maintain your own life. In addition, keeping up with the fabulous daytime life when you were a night owl was hard.

Not to say crime stopped at any point of the day or night, but things seemed calmer when the moon and the stars decorated the sky. You awkwardly rubbed the side of your arm, your stomach twisting and causing a small wave of nausea to consume you.

“Well, he, uh, I mean I think…” you tried taking a deep breath to calm yourself. ‘Come on! You’ve dealt with worse customers,’ you thought before your eyes shifted back to him, and his shadowed face. Yet you could still see that smirk and it drew you in, as much as you hated to admit that.

“I guess I don’t have an opinion on him,” you replied, shrugging. “Kind of hard to keep up with uh, the heroes when you’re busy with your own life,” you motioned to your surroundings with an awkward chuckle. Tomura narrowed his eyes. That wasn’t necessarily the response he was looking for.

It didn’t take an idiot to realize you didn’t put much thought into it like you only said it to please him. While he didn’t mind that, he also appreciated the truth. “And what makes him so damn great?” His voice somewhat fluctuated as he spoke, and you sensed a happy tone dancing within it.

You shrugged, “I guess what makes anyone great?” Your answer stumped him. His posture stiffened, and he lowered his hand from his cheek. “Hm,” that smirk faded. “Is that right?” He asked before leaning over the counter.

“And what’ll happen when he falls?” His question made you jolt and look at him with a raised eyebrow. “Heh, a-are you a villain or something?” You joked, and to your surprise, he laughed, and the sound of it caused a violent shiver down your spine.

Another smirk painted his face and he slowly got up from his seat. He didn’t say anything, but the way he stared left you shivering again. Then he turned and walked to the door. The familiar sound of a bell signified his departure, and you leaned against one of the coffee machines behind you, feeling the heat against your back.

Your heart remained fluttering in your chest like a hummingbird and a wave of fear washed over you. The suspicions you had about him were now confirmed. There was something sinister about him. It didn’t sit right with you that your joke remained unanswered either.

In the back of your mind, however, there was a small voice, maybe your conscience, that told you it was still wrong to judge him. But after that interaction, how could you not? You took a deep breath, trying to regain your previous composure, and looked around the empty room.

The sounds of the night city continued to gently hum as you finally found the courage to close your shop. However, you were unwilling to open tomorrow for fear of seeing him again. Your customers, the very few you had anyway, would understand if you needed a break.

The sound of crunching leaves and twigs underneath his feet, and the melody of bugs chirping and owls singing in the night fell deaf to his ears. His hood, unlike in your cafe, was down, allowing his silver-white hair to shimmer against the moonlight as he walked down the dirt path that led to The League of Villains hideaway.

He scanned his surroundings again. Unlike the usual formal attire he wore, he sported a white sleeping cap with a pom pom at the end of it. His normal metal brace encircled his neck. A cotton button-up pajama top with purple polka dots and matching bottoms covered his body.

While he tried to sleep, it proved impossible as his thoughts remained on Tomura. It was his purpose to always serve and protect him. Yet, as of late, the young boy favored departing for an unknown location and was absent for hours at a time.

While he did not doubt Tomura’s abilities, that didn’t make his purpose less important. If something happened to him, he needed to be there to ensure he did not receive harm. As such, this was not the first night he had stayed up into the early morning hours waiting for the boy to return.

The sky was still dark, but he knew the sun would rise soon. His purple and black mist swirled around as he anxiously awaited Tomura’s arrival. When he heard footsteps approaching, he remained still and focused his attention forward. Relief washed over him when he saw exactly who he was looking for.

“Tomura Shigaraki,” he said, his voice deep and stern. His eyes narrowed the closer the boy came. As usual, no words were spoken between them but rather a silent acknowledgment as Tomura passed him and opened the door.

Kurogiri followed him inside and ensured the door was locked. Tomura grumbled as he walked up to the bar and took his seat. He stared mindlessly at the counter that reminded him of your cafe and the terrified look on your face replayed in his mind, making him smile.

This immediately caught Kurogiri’s attention as he walked behind the counter and to the small bar. Tomura rarely smiled unless someone else was hurt or he felt victory within his grasp. He narrowed his eyes but remained quiet as he grabbed a clean glass.

He added a few ice cubes to it, ignoring the clinking sound they created when they hit the bottom. He then grabbed the whiskey that Tomura was prone to drinking and filled the glass halfway before presenting it to him.

However, he noticed Tomura grabbed the glass and merely stared at the ice cubes floating in it. While he had no idea what was brewing in the boy’s mind, he would be shocked to know that as soon as Tomura looked at the glass, his mind envisioned a coffee cup.

It frustrated him to know you were on his mind again. Yet, the idea that you could be of use to him clouded his judgment. Surely there had to be a reason why he felt drawn to you. While he despised the feeling that stirred inside him whenever he was near or thought about you, he knew he would put it to rest.

Yes…soon he wouldn’t have to worry about this feeling bothering him constantly. Silence filled the space between them as Tomura finally sipped his whiskey. Kurogiri watched him intensively as if studying his every move. Perhaps if he had done that before, he would know the answer to the question he was about to ask.

“Where have you been lately, Tomura Shigaraki?” Without the hand obscuring his face, he could see how Tomura’s facial features contorted with annoyance and anger at his question. However, he continued to push, having become too used to the boy’s immature and sometimes childish attitude.

“You have been acting strangely lately, Tomura Shigaraki. I cannot help but assume there is something you have your sights set on,” he stated. “If that is true, then I must insist that I aid you in any way possible.” He would not accept any other alternative.

A growl rumbled in his throat, but he should have known this would happen. It seemed that he couldn’t go too far without Kurogiri trailing behind him. Hell, even when he tried to keep something secret, he was always found out.

It was pretty damn annoying, but in any case, Kurogiri was a Nomu and as such, he was created to obey his every command. Although at times, it seemed like he had free will. He lowered the glass with a thud and glared at Kurogiri.

However, he didn’t falter under the boy's intense gaze. Rather, he returned it with a blank stare. Tomura sighed and tightened his grip around the glass. The temptation to shatter it in his hand was strong as the image of you popped into his head again.

“Y/n,” the hatred in his eyes grew dark and obsessive as he growled your name and noted that it weighed heavily on his tongue. Kurogiri remained silent, processing what he had just been told. “I see,” he said, stepping closer although the counter separated them.

“Is this person of interest to you, Tomura Shigaraki?” He assumed that you were another villain or perhaps a hero student and that Tomura wished to recruit you as a member of The League of Villains. The burning in his throat was intense when he swallowed the rest of his whiskey.

Silence filled the air before he answered, “Yeah.” Kurogiri nodded but also noted that Tomura’s stare was now directed at the ice cubes that littered the bottom of his glass. This was, again, a strange reaction that contrasted with the boy’s usual personality.

After another minute of silence, an angry expression enveloped Tomura’s features. “They are,” he hissed, and like before, his grip tightened around the glass. His knuckles turned white, and several sharp cracks echoed as it shattered, showering his hand in shards.

Although many would react with concern when something like this happened, Kurogiri grabbed a rag and disposed of the shards that now decorated the counter. “Tomura,” he said. His tone was like that of a father, and he ignored the growl he received in response.

Instead, once the shards were dealt with, he grabbed Tomura’s hand and brushed away any remaining bits of glass. He noticed the few small cuts now etched into the boy’s skin, but it was unlikely he’d want them properly taken care of.

“What do you intend to do regarding Y/n?” He asked once he put the rag away. At the question, Tomura smiled wickedly and leaned his elbow on the counter. “I have a few ideas…” he responded. “I see,” Kurogiri leaned closer to him, “and what do you need me to do, Tomura Shigaraki?”

The sun had gone down by the time you arrived at your shop. Although you chose not to open, you figured you’d take this opportunity to catch up on work you had been falling behind on. This included inventory stock and maintenance.

Additionally, you had ideas for new cafe drinks you wanted to experiment with. Since the curtains were drawn and the establishment was closed, you could do so in peace. ‘Katz Caffeine Coffee Cafe’ His eyes narrowed when he read the sign. Not exactly a catchy name for an establishment.

He could hardly believe that Tomura stated you owned this cafe. While Esuha City was known for its nightlife, he still thought it strange that you chose to open a coffee shop that stayed open late into the morning hours when there were already so many others that did so.

‘Perhaps they think they are…capable of conquering the competition,’ he thought, turning to Tomura who was wearing all-black clothing, including another hood that concealed his face. Of course, that meant very little considering the course of events to come.

“Are you ready, Tomura Shigaraki?” He asked, ignoring the passersby on the sidewalk. They needed to accomplish this quickly and ensure that any heroes present in the area could not interfere before Tomura got what he wanted.

He chuckled in response to Kurogiri’s question and lifted his head, his red eyes beaming from underneath the shadow cast over his face. “Yes,” he said, before pointing at Dabi who was currently nestled in the alleyway between your coffee shop and the next useless building.

His arms were crossed, and his leg was bent, allowing him to press his foot against the opposite building wall. He was wearing his usual attire, a large overcoat with multiple coattails. His shirt was crisp white and wrinkled, hanging loosely from his chest.

His pants were dark in color and had multiple stitch marks across them and as usual, he was wearing combat boots. “Pff,” he sighed. In the back of his mind, he wondered how he could agree to this. However, he had always been good at killing people and causing chaos.

The thought of that alone brought a wicked smirk to his face. He stepped out of the alleyway, shoving his hands into his pockets. He glanced up, noting the moon and stars in the sky before looking at Tomura. “What do you want me to do again?” He asked, his voice carrying a certain annoyed tone to it.

“Why don’t you just shut up and put those damn flames to use?” Tomura hissed in response. “Make sure these stupid people stay away from this place until I’m done getting what I want,” he said, narrowing his eyes on Dabi who, from the start, had always been a thorn in his side.

But at least he knew who was in charge and had enough sense to follow the orders he was given. Dabi rolled his eyes. What the hell was so damn special about you he didn’t know. But regardless, he continued to watch as people walked up and down the sidewalk.

“Whatever,” he replied before curling his hands into fists, his knuckles cracking softly as he did so. A blue flame ignited, engulfing his hands and wrists. “Let’s get this over with,” he grumbled and walked out into the middle of the street.

Car tires screeched, and horns sounded through the air. Some foolish individuals even cursed him out and asked what he was doing. They quickly received an answer when his flames consumed their cars and panic erupted. All of which made him smile.

“Heh,” his grin widened as he watched some people push others to the ground and trample them. Tomura watched the spectacle with amusement before walking to the front door of your establishment, Kurogiri trailing behind him.

“Open your warp gate,” he demanded. Without hesitation, the dark fog that surrounded Kurogiri’s body extended and formed what appeared to be a dark portal in front of Tomura. He stared at it a moment before stepping through, disappearing into the void.

Panic struck you when screams sounded from outside causing you to drop the mug you were holding. It shattered instantly when it hit the floor. Instead of cleaning it up, you jumped over the counter and rushed to the large display window to the left side of your shop.

You reached a shaky hand out for the curtain, your heart pounding erratically in your chest making you feel short of breath. Your throat tightened, forcing you to swallow hard as you finally pulled it back and peeked outside. The only thing you saw was a blinding flame, blue in color, blazing in the street in front of your shop.

The building across the way crumbled under the flames that consumed it. However, you also noticed an individual dressed in black standing in the street, among the flames that didn’t appear to be harming him. It was like he admired the destruction around him including the panicked individuals who continued to run away.

You knit your eyebrows and screamed when he suddenly turned his head. His eyes, almost as blue as the fire that danced around him, seemed to peer right into your soul. You released the curtain immediately before pressing your back against the wall.

Your heart was pounding, and you suspected that at any moment it would leap out of your chest entirely. Your legs trembled threatening to give out from underneath you. The fear that consumed you at the moment was unlike anything you had experienced before. Yes, villains have attacked Esuha City countless times but rarely at night.

You grasped your chest, allowing your nails to dig into the front of your shirt before something else caught your eye. Your head snapped sideways, and you watched in horror as some type of dark portal appeared. In a panic, you ran back to the counter and jumped over it to hide.

You crouched down, pressing your hands against the top of your head and forcing yourself to hold your breath when you heard footsteps. Tomura grinned as he stepped out of Kurogiri’s warp gate and glanced around. It almost brought him delight seeing your shop empty.

Of course, he knew better than to be fooled into thinking it was actually empty. Having overheard one of your many conversations with one of the many idiots that took your attention away, he knew you took priority over certain duties regarding your business when it was closed.

He knew you were here. Even if you were hiding, he’d find you. He continued forward, stopping at the counter, unaware that you lingered on the other side. He allowed his partially gloved fingers to skim across its slick surface.

“Tomura Shigaraki,” Kurogiri said, walking behind him. Your eyes widened when you heard his name, and that fear intensified, making you freeze completely. Tomura Shigaraki. He was a ruthless villain and leader of The League of Villains.

You couldn’t bear to think about the thousands of people he’s harmed, much less killed without feeling nauseous. However, this didn’t stop questions from racing through your mind. What was he doing? What did he want from you? Were you going to die tonight? Why did he bring someone else with him?

You swallowed hard, letting out a quiet breath, and slowly positioned yourself on your hands and knees. Maybe if you crawled around to the storage area located at the back of your shop you could escape or so you hoped. Tomura faced Kurogiri with a glare.

“Are you most certain Y/n is present?” He asked, aware that his question may sound silly, perhaps even stupid. “Of course, they’re here!” He growled in response, slamming his hand on the counter making the sound echo eerily through the shop.

A tremble coursed through your body when you heard your name, and you continued to crawl as quickly and as quietly as you could across the floor. However, you only made it halfway before something pierced your hand. You forgot about the mug you had shattered earlier.

It was one of those shattered pieces that cut your hand easily, making you hiss out involuntarily. Once you registered your actions, you clamped your non-bloody hand over your mouth, silently cursing yourself for giving away your location.

Panic coursed through your body again, and you decided it was better to run and die than to be a sitting duck. However, by the time you got up, Kurogiri had already moved. “You will not escape!” he bellowed. The mist around him spread like a blanket of darkness and his eyes blazed with fury.

Your shoes squeaked against the floor as you stumbled to a stop, and you grasped onto the counter to prevent yourself from falling. The dull ache from the cut on your palm was nothing compared to the dread you felt when you locked eyes with those yellow orbs that were filled with nothing less than hatred.

Once he was certain you were not escaping, the mist that had expanded from his body shrank. That’s when you noticed the oddly formal outfit he was wearing. The crisp long-sleeved button-up shirt caught your attention first, followed by the black tie that adorned its collar and was tucked behind the gray vest that hugged his figure.

He also wore a black belt and dark dress pants with polished Oxford shoes. His eyes narrowed and he looked at you with such intensity and sternness that you almost felt like a child. A frightened child trying to keep the monsters under their bed at bay.

Without thinking, you turned and ran in the opposite direction. What exactly you were planning to do was up for debate. Reaching the front door would be ideal for escape, but then you’d have to deal with the villain outside who was currently turning everything into ash.

Well, either way, it was better than dealing with two villains in a small space. Unfortunately, like Kurogiri, Tomura cut you off quickly. You stumbled to a stop again, but unlike before, you lost your footing and fell onto the floor. You frantically crawled back, despite realizing you were trapped.

“P-please I…” you could still feel those yellow eyes burning a hole in your back. Swallowing heavily, you thought it best to focus on the man in front of you. However, an odd feeling of déjà vu washed over you when you noticed the outfit he was wearing.

“W-wait a minute, y-you’re-” That odd customer, the one that had visited your shop countless times before and the one whose conversation left you trembling. “Heh, oh good, you recognize me,” he replied and lowered his hood. The sight of his appearance sent another shiver down your spine.

He was a slender man, with skin as pale as the moonlight. In addition to the wrinkles around his eyes, his right eye had visible scars across it. His lips were severely chapped and the right side, too, had scarring and a small mole. His hair was silver-white, and half of it was tied behind his head.

The front of his bangs hung in his face in uneven waves and the bottom portion of his hair brushed against his shoulders. His menacing smirk coupled with his bright red irises sent another shiver down your spine. The answer to your previous question was revealed.

He was a villain and he had pretended to be your customer. What could he possibly gain from doing that?! It didn’t make sense, and you still didn’t know why he was here or what he wanted from you. Of course, you failed to realize that he continued to return because he was fascinated by you rather than your coffee shop.

He chuckled, and the disgruntled sound made you spring to your feet. The urge to run was overwhelming, but when you glanced over your shoulder, you saw his accomplice was still present. Additionally, you knew he’d stop you if you made such a foolish attempt. Clenching your jaw, your hands balled into shaky fists.

‘Damn it!’ you cursed inside your head, feeling your eyes burn as they watered over like a dam ready to burst. Kurogiri noticed this, but it only added to his confusion about why Tomura was after you. Someone so delicate and fragile.

It was clear you had nothing to offer The League, yet he refused to believe it had to do with feelings. Tomura was emotional, yes but his emotions were usually negative. Kurogiri was certain that, if by chance, the young boy fell in love, he would take after All For One.

He would not see his token of affection as someone to take care of and tend to. Rather he would see them as his possession. Something that belonged to him and him alone, and whoever dared to do something foolish like take his possession away would suffer a most gruesome death.

Perhaps that was the recent change in Tomura. He had found a new possession to claim as his. Your chest felt heavy, and yet tight as if you were crushed by an enormous weight. Your whole body trembled, and your eyes were wide and looked irritated.

You swallowed and pressed yourself against one of the expresso machines that littered the counter. It was nestled between the coffee grinder and the iced coffee dispenser. Both threatened to tip over as you desperately grasped onto them like they were the only lifeline you had.

Once again you felt the dull ache of your injured palm and it reminded you that this was not a dream. Tomura continued to step toward you, further emphasizing that you were trapped like an injured animal in the corner of an alley.

The echo of your heart pounded in your ears and like you were deprived of oxygen, there was a suffocating tension in the air. His eyes gleamed like a powerful demon as he growled, “Don’t look so damn scared!” and slammed his hands against the machines that were currently digging into your back.

He grinned at the sound of your scream and pride filled him as he observed the devastated state you were in. Then he leaned back to remove his gloves. Kurogiri watched him drop them to the floor and made a mental note to pick them up before they left.

Although Tomura had plenty of specially made gloves, he preferred to keep as many as possible. “Now, heh, I’ll make this simple for you,” he said slamming his hands against the machines behind you again. The only difference this time was several loud cracks sounded, and in a matter of seconds they began to decay.

Their once shiny and solid surfaces turned gray and crumbled like sand. You felt the weight of them disappear, forcing you to steady yourself as they turned to dust. Your eyes never left his, however. As terrified as you were, you refused to look away.

“Come with me, or I’ll fucking kill you,” he growled, and his words shook you. There was no way you wanted to die, but you couldn’t go with him! That was a fate worse than death. In addition, you couldn’t abandon what you created. This shop, this business was your life.

Even though you only had a handful of customers, they needed this shop to act as a safe zone. A place where they could talk about their worries and problems without judgment. The very idea of taking that away finally broke you, and a soft sob passed your lips before hot tears rolled down your cheeks.

Tomura paused, and his eyes traced the tears that slid down your face and slowly dripped from your chin. Then his eyebrows knitted as if he was confused about why you were crying. But it didn’t matter. Even if you foolishly refused to go with him, he’d take you by force. As the seconds ticked by, Kurogiri narrowed his eyes.

“Tomura Shigaraki,” he said, watching the boy pause and look at him with a snarl. He knew he needed to be careful with his next words. While there was the possibility that you meant something to Tomura, even if the boy himself hadn’t fully realized that yet, it was clear this was going nowhere.

Despite knowing he did not take failure well, Kurogiri needed to ensure Tomura returned to The League safely with or without you. However, his focus turned to the front door of your establishment which not only ignited into flames but was ripped off its hinges when Dabi forcibly used his fire to barge his way in.

Tomura, surprisingly, seemed unphased by this sudden intrusion despite your accompanying scream. He leaned back, looking at Dabi blankly. “Just what the hell is taking so damn long?” He questioned, and your throat tightened as you tried to suppress another sob.

With Tomura in front of you, it was impossible to see the man who forced his way into your shop. Not that it would matter considering your vision was blurry due to tears. You could, however, see the blue flames that were beginning to consume your cafe, and the heat made you sweat.

The only salus you had, as much as you hated to admit it, was Tomura shielding you from who you could only assume was the same man you had seen in the street earlier. You then assumed that he was also part of The League of Villains.

“The heroes have been alerted, let’s go already,” he hissed, gesturing behind him and toward the now broken entranceway. Pain danced in your eyes as you watched his flames consume the building inch by inch. Tomura growled. “Shut up!” He snapped before looking at Kurogiri.

“Well?” He said, snatching his gloves off the floor and making you flinch. Sweat dripped down your forehead, and your tears had evaporated. You felt faint among the other overwhelming emotions that caused your knees to buckle and you to fall back onto the floor in front of Tomura.

He paused and glanced at you before his eyes fell back on Kurogiri. He looked at him blankly, awaiting his orders. “Use your warp gate already!” Tomura screamed like a spoiled child and placed his hands on his hips before glaring at Kurogiri.

He placed his hand on his chest and bowed. “As you wish, Tomura Shigaraki,” he replied, and your heart jumped in your chest. ‘Warp gate?’ Suddenly that image of the dark portal from earlier popped into your head. That was his quirk! Your eyes widened when you watched more dark portals appear, seemingly out of thin air.

You gasped. “Wait!” You cried out, but it was too late. The ground dissolved beneath you. A rush of wind enveloped you, and the sensation of weightlessness before gravity kicked in and you fell flat onto solid ground. You groaned, noting the floor was cold and rough.

You recovered after a moment and slowly opened your eyes. Despite your vision spinning you could make out various glass bottles lining two wooden shelves, and the bright yellow light behind them only irritated your vision further.

“H-huh?” You pushed yourself onto your knees, slowly taking in your new surroundings. The dizziness caused a wave of nausea to flow over you, but you refused to give in to the feeling. Instead, you took a deep breath and continued looking around.

You noticed there was a doorway covered with a purple curtain next to the shelves. A wooden counter surrounded the area, and a small television rested at the end of the counter. If this was a bar, a wide-screen television was usually present.

‘Weird…’ you thought, before noticing the walls were made from brick and a coffee machine was sitting on a small table next to the television. Your heart sank in your chest as you were reminded of your cafe which was likely nothing but a pile of smelted wood and ash now.

Your head immediately snapped toward the purple curtain as another dark portal appeared. You watched in horror as Tomura stepped out and frantically crawled back, only to hit something. You trembled, feeling your throat tighten as you tilted your head to see that strange mist man. His eyes stared into your soul again.

“Ah!” You frantically twist your body, wanting to get away from him. However, you hit one of the shelves and the sound of the bottles clinking together echoed eerily through the room. “W-Where am I!?” You frantically asked, your voice dripping with fear. Tomura sighed when he walked up to you.

Knowing you were trapped again. You could only shake uncontrollably as he crouched down and forcibly grabbed your chin. You could feel his nails dig into your flesh through the glove he was wearing and when you looked into his eyes, they had an inhuman glint.

“Don’t ask such a stupid question,” he growled, baring his teeth, and tightening his grip making you wince. “Kurogiri,” he said when he released your chin and threw you back against the shelf, yet again making the bottles rattle.

Your heart pounded, and you fisted your hands into your hair. Ignoring the dried blood on your injured palm and the accompanying sting that came with it. “Yes, Tomura Shigaraki?” He replied, shifting his attention from you to him.

“Make sure their stupid hand is cleaned,” he said, referring to your injured palm. Yes, he wasn’t so ignorant as to not notice it. He took pride in being observant. Noticing every little detail always gives you an advantage over others.

Kurogiri found the request rather…strange and shifted his gaze to you. Despite the distressed state you were in, he wondered what it was about you that made Tomura act like he cared. ‘Yes...what does he see in this one?’ It was surely a mystery, but perhaps you’d prove to be useful.

“Yes, Tomura Shigaraki,” he repeated before walking closer to you. A gasp passed your lips and you snapped back to reality when you looked at him. Your eyes were wide, and your face was colorless. “After that,” Tomura said, grabbing your chin and making you hiss out.

His eyebrows slanted, his eyes beaming as he stared at you. His lips twisted into a smirk and when he leaned forward, you squeezed your eyes shut. You expected more pain, perhaps even his opposite hand on your throat or tangled in your hair.

Instead, you felt the roughness of his lips against yours making your eyes snap open and your breath hitch. Kurogiri’s eyes widened as he watched Tomura initiate this act of affection and his body stiffened. Perhaps it was his instinct to protect Tomura, but this was the first time he had seen the boy act this way.

His eyes then narrowed, and his body relaxed. ‘Perhaps they have some value to him,’ and if that were true, then Kurogiri would too, see value in you. Dabi grumbled as he pulled back the curtain, opening his mouth to speak. However, he stopped short when he saw the scene before him.

He narrowed his eyes and placed his hand on his hip. “Just what the hell is going on?” He demanded and Kurogiri looked at him, unable to explain. When he realized this, he shrugged. He didn’t really give a shit about what Tomura was doing or who he was going to fuck or do who knows what with.

“Whatever,” he replied before walking around the counter and toward the door, muttering about burning something else. He growled against your lips, making your eyes widen. However, it wasn’t that difficult to figure out it had something to do with his accomplice entering the room and leaving.

Tomura hated interruptions as much as failure. When silence fell over the room again, he noticed that your lips felt plump, smooth, and perfectly shaped. It made his blood boil, like an angry firestorm that destroyed everything in its wake. Yet, there was a trace of undeniable greed.

That possessive nature reminded him you were his to take and do with what he wanted. Yes, you were his possession, and you would never leave him. However, his lips tasted bitter to you and left your skin crawling. What should have been a warm or passionate action was an unwanted advancement.

Yet, you were too afraid to move away. To push him, do anything to stop or break the kiss. How could you live with yourself having kissed a villain? Did he want you because he had feelings for you? Was everything he and his accomplices did because he wanted you for himself?

The realization made you gag. Although it was silenced between your mouths, it didn’t make Tomura any less aware you were gagging, and he pulled away with another growl. However, instead of hurling you against the shelf again, he stood up and walked around the counter to take a seat.

Even when he was a short distance away from you, your body continued to tremble. Kurogiri, meanwhile, grabbed the first aid kit. While All For One provided Tomura with medical attention when needed, courtesy of Dr. Kyudai Garaki.

Kurogiri kept a first aid kit on hand because Tomura had some self-destructive habits, such as scratching his skin open, primarily around his neck area. As such, he attended to these minor injuries and ensured they were properly cleaned and bandaged when needed.

Although he hated the idea of using precious resources on anyone except Tomura, he could not resist an order given to him. So, he crouched down beside you and grabbed your hand, making you gasp again. He paused, only to look at you. It was clear you were scared, and your trembling didn’t help.

But you weren’t resisting and so he gently took your hand in his, examining the cut. The skin around it was red and inflamed, and dried blood was smeared across your palm and fingers. However, that was nothing minor disinfectant couldn’t take care of.

Compared to Tomura, Kurogiri had a strange gentleness about him. At least that’s what you could gather from the delicate way he cleaned your wound and wiped the dried blood away before wrapping it up. When he released your hand, you pressed it against your chest, feeling the now steady pace of your heart.

You watched as he gathered the bloody rag and threw it away. After that, he returned the first aid kit to its proper place and looked at Tomura. “I am finished,” he stated. “Heh, great,” Tomura replied and leaned over the counter, looking at you.

“Why don’t you be useful and make me a damn cup of coffee?” He replied, but his smile faded when his order was greeted with silence. “Now!” he snapped, slamming his hands against the counter, and making you stagger to your feet.

Your legs remained shaking and felt like they would give out from underneath you at any moment. Regardless, you stumbled to the coffee machine you spotted earlier and cried out when your knees bent, making you desperately clench onto the small table.

You sharply inhaled, not having realized you were holding your breath. You could feel the weight of Tomura and Kurogiri’s stares and your hands trembled as you tried to open the coffee machine to see if there were coffee grounds in it. As you did this, another dark realization came. You captured a villain’s heart.

But not just any villain’s heart, Tomura Shigaraki’s. The one who could turn you into dust at any moment. Instead of having the happy life you envisioned, one where you served customers, lent them your ear, gave advice, and shared happy memories with one another. You were now and forever Tomura’s object of affection.

[judjira]

prologue

pairing: reader x twice after hours wc: 578 back to masterlist

The day is done.

Either you’ve shut the last file needed for your class report tomorrow, or you’ve clocked out of your nine-to-five, or you’ve checked off the last thing on your errand list.

In any case, it’s late now. 11:34 pm.

You lost track of time somehow.

Maybe you were studying late at the library for your next final exam, or you’ve submitted the last report a coworker piled on you last minute, or you finally got those groceries you were delaying until the last moment.

In any case, you’re out on the streets of the city. Watching as the noise of the urban jungle slows to a halt, but the neon lights and the fluorescent shop signs never dim, giving the illusion of some artificial sun lighting up the night. Cars whiz by you on the sidewalk, the traffic close to nonexistent as the stoplights flash from red, to yellow, to green.

People mind their own business now. Not that they ever minded your business. Why should they? You’re just another blip on their radar, a green glowing dot that bares no significance besides the occasional blink of light to signify that you are there.

To you, they are the same.

Just a small, inconsequential dot in a sea of dots, marring a pure white canvas in nothing but shades of grey.

The world is big.

And you are small.

The sky stretches above you, going for miles and miles, past the stars that hover in the horizon, and reaches out to borders not yet crossed. It greets you in a luminous shade of midnight blue, somehow beckoning you to a world unseen, past the warm and comforting glow of the sun.

The night is not warm, not comforting.

Instead, it is cool, like the breeze at the top of a mountain, like the waves that lick at your feet on the beach, like the ice at the bottom of a refreshing drink.

Instead, it is exciting, like the flash of a firework in the sky on a holiday, like the beams of light from a car racing past you on a highway, like the city horizon with all of its power on to the max.

Yes, the night is alive.

And you with it.

Breathing the air of a time when nothing and no one should be awake, you have never felt more in tune with the inner clockwork of community.

You step out into the city, after hours.

Where do you go?

The parking lot? There is not much to do there besides get your car.

The office? Ah, maybe you forgot something in your cubicle.

The college? Hm, perhaps a stroll through your university might be nice.

The bar? Oh, it should be quieter this time of night, patrons should be scarce.

The club? Or perhaps you’re looking for a lot more noise, lights, and people.

The streets? Well, it does look rather nice out tonight, and it is quite safe here.

The gym? Quite productive of you to get some reps in at this hour.

The convenience store? Maybe some snacks and drinks will curtail your boredom.

The bedroom? It’s been a long day, no one would hold it against you to go home “early.”

Wherever you go, though, the night lures you out into the open and beckons you into a world cloaked in darkness, yet as bright as day.

It is up to you to decide how you spend it.

[offdacabsav2]

Neon Sorrow

Vacuo may have been nothing but dust and orange hue, however, that didn’t stop its night clubs from pumping the bass past the witching hour.

Mostly young adults drowning their pain in bourbon, or tearing up the dance floor with their partners.

The cheering and blaring songs could be heard all the way from Shade Academy. Conveniently, the school itself engineered most of the establishment’s regulars.

Not Jaune, though.

While teams RWBY and RENO celebrated, he sat at the bar, studying his drink with an unreadable stare.

Another round of pulsing bass and flickering spotlights made him flinch, involuntarily recoiling and spilling the golden beverage.

His eyes narrowed.

The glass absorbed neon shades flashing and sweeping the club. An image of jaded, dull blue orbs stared back. He scowled at the other person stealing his features.

A group of men, laughing boisterously, chose their spots next to him.

He kept them in his peripheral before tossing down some change on the bar.

Beckoning him, a dark corner lay seductively, away and isolated.

He promptly stood and walked. A curious gaze followed.

Acting as a sort of phantom, he leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, shadows covering his face.

Glimpses of yellow, black, orange, red, brown, pink and green on the dance floor between shifting bodies.

Here, separated and alone, he felt comfortable and softly sighed in relief.

Occasionally, he observed the exit and how inviting the fresh chill of night seemed compared to the suffocating humidity of this hellscape.

It smelled like sweat, alcohol and drugs. An inner prisoner beat against his skull.

Why is he even here? Why should he stay? For his friends? To satisfy their constant worries of his wellbeing?

He wanted to tell them he was fine and receive nothing more, but they never quit.

His scroll rang in his pocket. Begrudgingly, he unearthed it, ignoring a legion of unread texts and unanswered calls.

Weiss: ‘Where are you?’

His gloved hand paused over the keyboard. Once more, he glanced at his friends sway in casual wear. Questionable, in Yang’s case.

Jaune: ‘Still here.’

His inhale of polluted oxygen was deep. It honestly hurt more than it should have.

Weiss: ‘But where?’

An alarm sounded. His heart hastened.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t bring himself to answer.

So he didn’t.

That’s when the ugliest familiarity stepped out of his negative thoughts and into real life.

?: “Is that my old buddy, Jaune?”

Now he definitely wanted to leave.

Flanking his right, another revolting expression.

Cardin: “You look different, man. Why are ya hidin’ in the corner? Not like you to be afraid of a dance.”

The Arc’s blood boiled. His signature restraint and calmness degraded.

Jaune: “Fuck. off.” He hissed.

Cardin grinned, feinting shock and hurt.

Russel: “Still an asshole, apparently.”

Jaune regarded him with an evil glare.

Cardin: “Woah, ok dude, uncalled for. I was just trying to make conversation. It’s been a long time. I can’t catch up with a fellow huntsman?”

Winchester puffed out his chest, displaying a white badge showcasing title and official status.

Jaune: “Not a big fan of you’re type of reunion.”

Cardin: “Oh, c’mon. A hug, maybe pat on the back?” He smirked, spreading his longs arms.

Jaune: “Looking for validation or attention?”

Cardin: “I’m looking for a good time… Arc.” He enunciated sharply.

Jaune: “I’m not, so get the hell out of the way.” He threatened as he barged into Cardin’s shoulder and paced to the door.

Wearing an expression of smugness, Cardin slowly turned.

Cardin: “I was gonna ask for your permission.”

Jaune: “What, you need help wiping your own ass?” He answered, stuck on the exit.

Cardin: “That’s good, that’s good. He’s a funny guy, funny guy. No, more like for a dance partner. You wouldn’t mind if I took Schnee for a ride, right?”

Jaune paused abruptly. Cardin’s enthusiasm billowed.

Cardin: “Hook a fellow up, yeah? I mean, she’s gorgeous. I’d really like to see her tear up the dance floor, if you catch my drift.”

He wished he hadn’t met their arrogant faces, but Winchester stoked a fire he wanted to stamp out.

Cardin: “See if she’s really as cold as people say she is.” He glanced beyond the knight.

Jaune caught his quick check. He looked up where a strip of metal revealed two figures stalking him.

Cardin: “I don’t know, always had a thing for long hair and heels. Kinda reminds me of a certain redhead, now that I think about it.”

It was at this point where Jaune’s fingers twitched, trying to wrap around a non-existent weapon.

Slowly, more bystanders stopped dancing and watched the escalating hostility. A crowd was forming.

Cardin: “Oh, my bad. Still a fresh wound, huh?”

Russel left Cardin’s side and approached. His shit-eating grin and lax sway ignited the fire in Jaune’s chest.

Russel: “Why don’t you let this one slide?”

The instant Russel’s hand rested on his shoulder, Jaune grabbed him, slammed his palm against his elbow, bending it unnaturally, and slugged the idiot across the face so hard, he crashed into the bar.

There was a sudden yell of surprise, gauging the hit in the crowd. Quickly, it turned to chants pouring oil on an inferno.

Jaune ducked the swing he knew was coming and flipped Sky over his back. Dove lunged with blurry speed. His fists flew fast, but Jaune broke his offensive with his forearms.

Dove’s leg launched at his mid-section. Jaune shifted, catching it and swept him off his remaining foot.

He prepared to hammer his fist upon his skull, but he was tackled.

Winchester and Arc rolled. However, the bully was ejected backwards as they tumbled.

Utilizing his momentum, Jaune shot to a defensive stance, intercepting Sky’s fist. He twisted the goon’s arm back, earning a cry of pain, and wrapped his hand around Sky’s face, violently slamming him through a table. Beer and splinters flew everywhere.

Affording no respite, Cardin and Dove attacked relentlessly. Jaune was pressed to the back foot, and retreated as he dodged and ducked.

Dove overextended, allowing the knight to side-step his attack and put a body in between him and Winchester.

He planted his fist into Dove’s ribs and knocked him cold with metal knuckles to the side of the brain.

He folded like a rag doll.

Cardin, with uncanny agility, rushed Jaune and grabbed him by the neck, lifting him high and slamming him against the bar.

The bully’s iron grip worked to crush Jaune’s jugular.

And as his vision faded and neon smeared over grey walls, he rocketed his knee upwards. Cardin howled from testicular trauma.

A swift one-two against Cardin’s temple, then a bone shattering blow to the stomach.

Unfortunately, Cardin’s aura only sparked. Jaune’s eyes widened.

The arrogant brute, ardently advertising shocking nimbleness, bashed Jaune with a backhand.

Stumbling from the raw weight behind the attack, Jaune dazed. Winchester grabbed his shoulders and planted his skull against the Arc’s temple.

Blood flowed free while he struggled to keep himself standing.

Barely, he avoided a fatal punch and the following series.

Jaune steadily backpedaled until the bar was no longer restraining his movements.

Missed opportunities piled on top of one another. Cardin roared in rage as Jaune expertly weaved in and out of his range.

Cardin: “You should’ve fucking died at Beacon!”

Right there and then…

He lost.

Seething anger clouded Cardin’s gaze. With 100% strength backing his swing, Jaune would surely die instantly or suffer a seizure so extreme he was bound to perish minutes later.

But, he dropped below him and spun. Cardin was off his feet and on the ground. Before he could register it, Jaune was there pummeling into him.

Each punch packed larger reserved energy than previous ones.

Eventually, the fight had been won, but Jaune kept going.

Bone crunched, blood coated his hands and face.

Flashing images played. Pyrrha between locker bars, Cinder’s infuriating smirk, Weiss dying on the floor, the feeling of his sword slipping past Penny’s flesh and into her heart, and the crushing, indomitable, unbearable loneliness of that damn fairytale.

Jaune wore rage well. Too well.

He couldn’t hear the bass or synths anymore. Same can’t be said for ear-splitting ringing.

A set of cold hands pulled on his shoulders. He whirled fast enough to induce tremendous whiplash…

…

Only to see horrified icy sapphires.

The world returned to him. No longer did the people cheer and yell. The dead silence led him to believe he’d hear the sound of lapping waves, or a sudden explosion of fire.

Weiss: “Jaune.”

What hurt most, was how she looked at him. Like… like he was some kind of demon.

The girl who picked him up after the Pleasers. The woman who shouldered his burden. The huntress he couldn’t stop thinking about; restless at night.

The only person who made him feel…

Wanted…

He tore from her gaze, examining the damage he had caused.

Cardin’s face was mangled. Nose cracked, forehead cut open, and jaw broken beyond repair. He was barely breathing.

Dove lay flat in a growing pool of blood.

Sky struggled to lift himself from the ground. Red poured from his mouth and nose.

Beyond the bar, two employees carried a screaming Russel. A bone protruded through his arm.

Weiss: “Jaune.” She muttered.

He darted to his feet, backing away. RENO watched in pure disbelief. RWBY mimicked that.

Weiss held out her arms, trying to calm him with a delicate voice.

Instead, he ran.

Blowing open the doors and into the night.

Indeed, the air was refreshing.

Weiss: “Jaune!”

Her calls grew distant.

Sirens drew closer.

[grimalkinmessor]

10, 11, 12, 19, 42, and 45 for Shimateru? 🥺

SHIMATERUUUU LET'S FUCKING GOOOO

♠️⚜️

10. Do they share any hobbies or interests? How do these things bring them together?

The girls are fiiightiiiiing 💅✨

Nah but fr, fist fighting and sparring with their powers are a big point of quality time for them. It's how they met, it's how they "made up" (read: became attracted to each other), it's how they start and resolve arguments, it's how they let off steam, and oftentimes how they start sex. Fighting as foreplay my beloved 🙏

It's cathartic for both of them Shimazaki finds it fun, a way to let loose, and Teruki feels the same, but with more relief, because Shimazaki is the only person he can go all out against. Not because he's strong, but because he knows Shimazaki's not afraid of hitting back and giving as good as he gets.

11. How do they feel about nicknames/pet names? If they like them, what pet names do they use? If they hate them, why do they feel that way?

Oohhh Shimazaki loves to use petnames for Teru, and Teru fucking hates it, especially in the beginning. Shimazaki's favorites to use are Kitten (and all it's variations), Sparky, and Sweetheart—all incredibly condescending. At first, anyway. He likes the way Teruki's aura flares when he says them, his little lightning bolt gets so pissed off >:3 He eventually adds on Lovely once they're closer and those nicknames don't sound quite so mean anymore; if anything, they're almost -gasp- affectionate? 👀

Teru himself has a few nicknames for Shimazaki that he uses later on, standard stuff like Love and Darling. He uses them sarcastically at first, much like Shimazaki, but then he too falls into the trap of affection 😔🙏 RIP unattached Teru he will be missed.

12. Do they have a difficult time when separated from each other, or are they fairly independent?

Ahh, not really? They've both been on their own so long that I don't see them ever really becoming codependent that way. They're people that like their space and need alone time, so they work pretty well together in that respect. So yes, fairly independent.

19. Do they wear each other’s clothes/jewelry?

THIS one is fun, because while Teruki absolutely probably steals Shimazaki's leather jackets and pants from time to time, Shimazaki can't really,,,,,see, what he's picking up when he handles Teru's clothes. He can see the shape and cut of it due to Teruki's aura being all over it, but he can't exactly see the colors or designs on them. He has no way of knowing that Teru has the brightest, neon fashion sense known to man unless someone tells him, and you can bet your ass that absolutely no one is going to.

Shimazaki steals Teru's jackets and scarves and even his shirts sometimes, maybe a watch or two, and then you have this intimidating emo-looking guy waltzing around with a neon yellow scarf with like green triangles all over it. An inverted blacklight Hawaiian button-up. Occasionally a bright, hot pink wrist watch. Teruki actually thinks he looks nice though, is the thing, so I guess it works for them 😭

42. What’s their relationship like with each other’s friends/families?

Well, Teruki is kind of a runaway? At least in my head he is, rather than his parents just,,,voluntarily letting their fifteen year old live alone. So Shimazaki likely never really meets Teru's family, unless he decides to take advantage of Shimazaki's teleportation abilities and send messages to them back and forth that they can't technically track. Even then I think it would be kind of awkward for Shimazaki to interact with them given how genuinely worried they seem for their son—I think it would skeeve him out.

As for Shimazaki's family....well, I kind of have an angsty headcanon for him where his mother actually purposefully blinded him as a kid and that's what sparked his psychic awakening, so he's ALSO been a little vagabond skirting from town to town so he doesn't get put in the system, so he knows what it's like. His father was out of the picture and his mother is still in jail for, you know, maiming her kid so Shimazaki doesn't really have any family for Teru to meet now beyond the Ultimate Five, and even they don't really fuck with Shimazaki much because of how much of a dick he was 😅

I guess in that vein Teru's Meet My Parents meeting would probably just involve the Kageyama brothers, Reigen, Tome, and Dimple :')

45. How do they support each other? How do they rely on each others support?

Ack, this one is weird for me. Because again, they're fairly independent and that's because they're both very prideful and they both needed to know how to survive on their own, which they do and think they do well. It woul be hard for either of them to support the other because both of them think they don't need support.

I think the biggest thing that Shimazaki "supports" Teru through is sparring. When his anger issues start flaring up, when the guilt starts creeping in, when he feels Old Teru start bubbling back up in sneers and insults, he can count on Shimazaki to run him through the wringer until he feels right again. To take every bit of his rage and aggression without flinching back from him or thinking he's weak for it.

For Shimazaki, I think Teru mostly supports him physically. Leaning against him when he gets all quiet, dragging his hands along the walls and furniture in the apartment to make sure Shimazaki can see the shape and limits of them, holding his hand when they walk through large crowds, sometimes even combing his fingers through Shimazaki's hair when the man can't get to sleep.

Neither of them acknowledge that they're helping the other out loud, and neither of them acknowledge that they're being helped, because that shit Embarrassing™

[racketballz]

From google: “Seasonal color analysis is a system that takes our skin tone, natural eye tone, and hair color and formulates the best color palette for us based on those factors”

Its one of those Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter thing. I thought you might know about it since you put your ppg/rrb in outfits that fits with their respective undertones pretty well

Oh! I know what you’re talking about Then yeah kinda! I don’t do it based on the that seasonal thingy but it’s very similar to a color theory test (they’re basically the same thing probably) like how you would formulate a wardrobe based on you’re undertone I do that with all of them!

Like I don’t put bubbles in dark colors often because pastels makes her look brighter and buttercup Wears a lot of dark colors or neutrals but she usually has one pop of color in there (it is usually red or green) and blossom is kinda like….wears a lot of pinks(ofc) reds and yellows! Sometimes if I’m feeling frisky I’ll put like a light purple.

The boys are interesting because I think I have to work harder for them almost the girls are a little more intuitive.

like boomer I don’t know if I have a full grasp on him yet I do end up shoving him in royal blues but any blue is okay! but he would look good with like olives and BRIGHT yellows like he to me is a very saturated fella

Butch on the other hand is like SUPER DARK PALLET BLACK HE wears alot of BLACK and unsaturated greens I don’t think I would put him in anything that’s not black, white(which is a stretch because I didn’t think I’ll even do that) green or gray…red/yellow is okay as long as it’s faded. He is not allowed to wear a bright or neon green either that is reserved for buttercup 😊🫵

Brick is the most …….monotonous…I think similar to blossom he wears red and then….more red and then maybe brown that’s orange or red cast the occasional blue tinted brown for slight contrast. It’s all like this very underwhelming red too I think because he has such piercing eyes and he’s extremely orange it’s not necessary I want him to look like he’s trying to be a Normal human being in disguise a little but he’s not doing a good job

[eyes-that-decieve]

Tal and Dreaming, one of the guys who was in the corridors with you came in for a statement. Just thought I'd let you know.

Recorded it, I got permission to send the transcript (the actual file corrupted and broke after playing it back once, I didn't mean to record it on my phone), so if anyone wants to read it!

[Recording begins. The device seems to be in a pocket, the view is tilted and obstructed about halfway down by a table. A visibly shaken boy, maybe 17, sits on the other side of the table. His skin is pale and has an almost gray look, possibly the lighting. His brown eyes dart around nervously as he fidgets, occasionally using one hand to fix short black hair, three pronounced white streaks near his temple that appear to be natural.]

Styx: Why here, and not the institute?

Penn: I got pulled in through a door over there, you have to know if that happens in your place, right?

Styx: Right. Want to tell me about it?¿

Penn: Yea- Yes.

[Sound of a quiet breath, a few muttered words from Styx]

Penn: I was in here for a coffee before catching the bus home- [Speaking very quickly, cutting himself off before speaking much more normally.] Long day and all. There was a really brightly painted door over there. Black background, neon I believe?

[Penn gestures to one wall, his hand going out of frame]

Penn: I hadn't been in here before, so I didn't think it was out of place. It just felt a little off. It opened from the other side, someone beckoning me, claiming something about free food. When I come to think of it, I can't remember what they looked like. The second I stepped over the threshold, the door snapped shut and was gone.

The person who led me in was gone too. I turned around again and a flippin' dragon was right in front of me! Thought it was kinda cool for a second, all shiny black scales and purple and yellow eyes. It laughed for a second, in two different voices? This sounds ridiculous.

[Penn pinches the bridge of his nose with two fingers, but keeps talking.]

Penn: They jumped at me and I started running. They didn't chase me. The whole place must have been too confusing, even for a dragon. It was like the door, everything was dark and neon at the same time, edged in bright colors. It all hurt my eyes, I ran straight into a lamppost right in the middle of the path after a few minutes. I kept walking, but my head still hurts from it. That must have messed up my eyes worse, because everything got more confusing. Branching paths, curving back on each other. I swear I ran into that same lamppost three times. I was going in circles.

At some point it hit me. And by 'it' I mean a person. The whole place had been shaking for a few minutes, then someone comes hurtling down from the ceiling and knocks me to the ground. They had. . . Wings? Feathered ones, I remember the sound. Other than that, I don't remember what they looked like. 'If nothing was a person' comes to mind, but I don't remember why. They immediately ran over to a tree while I was still reeling, and straight up punched the thing. The whole place shifted, from dark and neon to colorless. The floor was gone, the trees were gone, the little buildings were gone.

I don't know how long I wandered that emptiness. I thought I was going to die there. Or at least almost die, again. At some point I saw a door open in the distance, and the same dragon walk in. It was talking to someone else, still outside the door. It started painting on the void with its tail. I headed over there, because of course, it's something different from the void I'm stuck in.

Another creature came through the door. It looked kinda like a little kid? Green dress, big smile, curly red hair. It was talking with the dragon, then seemed to notice me.

Asked if I knew who it they were, and where I was. It shoved me back towards the dragon. I looked up at it, and it had too many teeth. Far too many. The dragon pushed me back towards the kid, and I ran. I heard the child say something about no way out and no one coming for me. The dragon followed after that, though I could just see its eyes, two one one side, purple and yellow, and blue on the other. Those and it's smile. Like a Cheshire cat? I turned a different way from it, I thought it was going to bite me.

The child cornered me. It said I wasn't myself, I was gone. It shoved me towards the dragon, who I didn't even realize was behind me. It's wings closed around me. No way out. No escape. I thought it was going to kill me.

[Penn laughs quietly, almost hysterically]

Penn: Next thing I know, I'm waking up on the sidewalk.

[Pause]

Styx: That it-? [Penn cuts them off]

Penn: That makes three, you know.

[Slight fabric sounds, camera is shifted slightly as if Styx is leaning forward a little.]

Penn: Three times I've nearly died in the past week. Almost hit by a car, almost fell off a balcony, ALMOST got killed by a dragon. Each time, all that's running through my head is 'is this when my luck is going to run out?' I'm not a cat, I don't have nine lives!

[Styx makes a quiet 'hm' noise.]

Penn: I don't.

[Long pause]

Styx: Statement ends.

[They clap their hands, standing up. Camera view is shifted up, no longer obscured by the table.]

Styx: Alright, thank you! [Sarcastic] I will keep dragons out of my cafe in the future.

Penn: That's it? That's all you're going to say?

Styx: Yeah, that's about it. If you have any more near death experiences like that, feel free to let me know!

Penn: Oh. Okay.

[Penn stands up, video cuts]

[thornfield13713]

Do you have any favourite settlement-building things, and how do you explain them narratively (since I know narrative is a big thing for you)

Uh...I'm pretty proud of how the Red Rocket turned out! It's set up very much as Georgia's own home, and I used a lot of junk to make it feel homey and lived-in - she's got a teakettle and a lot of mismatched scavenged cups, that golden grasshopper she found on a case with Nick, a cat, a little vegetable garden, lots of posters...and also two yellow buses on the roof, which have been pressed into service as 'guest bedrooms' for anyone who might happen to come and stay - so, her friends, passing Minutemen, occasional Railroad agents on the way up to Mercer safehouse. I am not explaining how the buses got up there. They just...did. Don't worry about it. I kind of regret that we can't get radchickens, even once they're a thing in Far Harbor, because a coop of those would've been a nice addition.

In terms of other settlements...well, first thing I did once I had access to the Vault-Tec reactors from Vault 88 was swap out Sanctuary's reactors for one - I love using Vault elements in Sanctuary, because it made a lot of sense to me that the settlers there would take everything that wasn't nailed down out of the Vault for their own use or to be repurposed in various ways. I know a lot of people like to wait and leave it, but for me, it made sense to make use of it as a resource, and to bury the dead of Vault 111 as quickly as possible, even if that isn't an in-game possibility. One of the keystones of Georgia and Preston's early friendship is that he helped her bury Sam. But it made sense that they'd want to take the reactor, and that the reactor for that Vault would be a very powerful one, as on top of all the other running costs of a Vault, it also needs to power all those cryo pods apparently indefinitely. Oh, also, one house is set up for MacCready and his son, and another is designed as Preston and Sturges' place, since I started shipping them after a while (refitted by the end of the game to include a bedroom for Synth Shaun, since I've headcanoned Sturges taking him in).

I also had some fun with Home Plate - first setting it up as a family home for Georgia and a ten-year-old Shaun, and then stripping everything out after the Institute reveal and leaving it bare until after the endgame, at which point it got converted into the Minutemen headquarters in Diamond City - somewhere for recruits from the Great Green Jewel to meet and work, and a bunkhouse for Minutemen who happen to be passing through on the way to somewhere else.

Also, in larger settlements, I like to have bathhouses. It just makes sense to me that, rather than deal with hauling water to one's own home to bathe, there'd be a business or two set up that took advantage of a prime location near the pumps/filters to be the place where you can go and rent a bathtub and maybe a private room/sectioned-off area to wash in. I mostly put these in settlements that approach 'small town' in size, though, as opposed to smaller homesteads where building space is at a premium.

Oh, and the Castle. I am very proud of the Castle. I don't think I've ever needed to fire a shot myself when the place has been attacked in-game. And, of course, we've got missile launchers facing out over the water this time, to make absolutely sure that if there's another Mirelurk Queen incident, it's going to go differently this time. I've also set up greenhouses inside the walls, and an additional pair of water pumps in addition to the purifier, because I really didn't want to consider the possibility of somebody cutting off access to the one outside the walls.

Starlight Drive-In is pretty neat, too - I love using all the neon I can in this build. I really like the idea of the town of Starlight City maybe one day growing into the northern Commonwealth's answer to Diamond City, and using a lot of film posters and neon gives it a very distinct character.

[arbitraryregistry]

Reality is Different, But Not Worse

The buildings seemed to wake as daylight dawned. Light glinted from windows and gradually the noise of traffic could be heard rumbling in the distance. Eyes still closed, I imagined myself standing amidst the cultured chaos. The soft wind slithered around, sweeping the humidity away. The smiles of passersby, nods of approval, and the occasional greeting. I vision stepping out of my room smelling freshly brewed coffee and baked goods. The crisp morning air welcomed itself through an open window. Soft music emitted from the bathroom as the shower ran. A vase of colorful flowers brightened the room, its dew dripping to the pair of chairs on either side of the crowded breakfast table.

I open my eyes. The sunlight assaulted my vision, its heat permeated the whole room. I tried valiantly to stretch and my muscles groaned, bones popping in response. Although the bed sheets are thin and graying, they felt soft against my skin. The creaky mattress is especially wobbly this fine morning, rousing me to get up and start the day. My foot landed on something soft. A pile of laundry. No strange odors. I shrugged to myself, picking a shirt from the top of the pile, its print faded from years of use. After sniffing the article of clothing, I also made sure to snatch a pair of murky blue jeans from the nearby chair. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I see that I have time to kill.

The walls were bare, beige, and blotched with mysterious stains. Chairs and tables were made of solid dark wood, chipping with age. Like me, the flat was in need of some love. My thoughts of a sentient household were squandered by the protruding scent of a horribly burning toast. It was the same shade as my coffee. Opening the fridge repeatedly does not seem to provide me with any solutions, so I brace myself for the world ahead of me today.

Yanking the front door open, I was greeted by a revolting gust of wind. It was strangely humid, heavy white clouds were gathering and inching closer. I can almost hear the sizzle of my rubber soles as I shuffle my way to the bus stop. The roar of the bus can be heard from a mile away before their deep green body made an appearance. I sloppily quicken my pace. It was a miracle I did not burn my complexion. The interior of the bus was akin to moss, almost slimy. More often than not, the cracked leather seats are moist from their previous occupants. Sitting on this bus had me sympathizing to roast chicken. Golden brown skin may look good on poultry and smell heavenly, but I doubt I would look appetizing after being processed in such a manner.

Exiting the vintage green tin, one hoped for fresh air. Alas, pollution is the only option left on the menu. I registered a distinct, dusty, and dry smell only present in the busier part of the town. Squeezing my way through the crowd, I scan for familiar routes. A red brick shop is a sign one should cross the street. A neon green graffiti is a warning that I have walked too far. The constant clanging of constructions and people buzzing through their life does not help the already overwhelming feeling of being in a cramped yet massive area. I cannot help but feel puzzled by my predecessors, why did they make the sidewalk so narrow compared to the streets? Those wilted potted flowers should have been space for a mobile living being.

A blue door with a cat and dog illustration is my destination. The stout building has yellow accents all over its exterior, like a ribbon tied to a present. On top of the building is a shiny, metallic, and flattened-out chicken. Now, if only I could remember the way to the store, maybe this morning would not have been so miserable after all.

[m0srael]

I love the way you worldbuild and play with creative magic systems in fantastical ways! I'd love to see the way you'd write a fic where some mundane typically Muggle activity is turned wizarding, like house cleaning or magical television broadcasting/recording...

Oh, Starry, thank you!! I do love a bit of complex magical theory 😈. This ask immediately conjured a very specific image for me. One of my favorite fics of all time is The Man Who Lived by sebastianL. I'm so enamored with their characterization of Draco, and talk about world-building!! There is so much to love about that story.

I'm imagining a TMWL-style Draco (aggressively repentant, a bit self-loathing, messy, complicated, endearing, and human) who makes the hard decision to cut all ties with the Wizarding World and everything he's ever known and found comfort in.

He moves to a big, new city and settles in some run-of-the-mill Muggle neighborhood. Maybe he has a tiny, dingy flat on the top floor of a multi-story walk-up that he loves with his whole heart, despite the cockroaches and leaking pipes and lack of central heat and air.

He's young when he leaves Wizarding Britain, maybe he's just a year or two past the War and the trials, and he'd barely gotten his feet under himself in the world he knew--starting over now feels a bit like learning to walk and talk again, and so (a bit intentionally, a bit subconsciously) he seeks comfort in "childish" things. He surrounds himself with softness, color, ease, and whimsy in a way that was never possible for him before now.

His flat is painted in pastel hues of blue, pink, and green. He finds a discarded neon sign on the side of the road, an ad for a beer brand that he's never even heard of, and hangs it on his living room wall so the room is constantly bathed in bright, colorful light. He starts collecting crocheted blankets and quilts from the local flea market and teaches himself (more or less) how to reupholster furniture so he can cover up the horrendous brown of his second-hand couch with something orange and green and loud and floral.

On one of his first nights in the city--before he learned about mugging and the risk of walking around alone at night with headphones in--he decides to go for a long stroll. He starts at his apartment building's front door and just goes--up and down streets, around blocks, over bridges, and down alleyways. Most of the shops are closed this late at night, but occasionally he passes a crowded pub or a twenty-four-hour diner with a handful of tired-looking people inside.

When he finally decides he's walked far enough and turns back in the general direction of home, something catches his eye. Bright light pours out of a storefront In the middle of the block opposite him. All the shops around it are dark and shuttered, their grates pulled down and locked for the night. Something about the place draws him closer--maybe it's the warmth of the yellow light pooling on the wet pavement, maybe it's the fact that the door is propped wide open so that anyone could wander in, maybe it's the red and blue 'open' sign flickering in the window. he steps right into the middle of the empty road and then up onto the curb on the other side.

And he finds that it's a shop full of Muggle laundry machines. Just a small, one-room establishment lined with washing machines and dryers, bisected by a long, low table. There's a row of bucket seats situated along the front window, a washed-out rainbow of molded plastic. In the back corner, a woman bends over a wheeled basket full of clothes and pulls things out, one at a time, to sort them into piles on the table. When Draco steps through the door and walks closer, he sees that there's a tiny child curled up in the basket asleep.

The woman eyes him suspiciously as he walks slowly, reverently up one side of the space, around the back, and down the other, trailing a hand over the top of the machines. He stops at the change machine by the front door. It takes him a minute to figure out how the thing works, but eventually, he pulls out a bill from his wallet and lets it be sucked into the little slot on the front. He almost claps his hands when the machine spits out a pile of shiny, clanking coins in exchange. And they say Muggles don't have magic.

It's a whole shop dedicated to washing. A place you can go just to launder your things when they're dirty. A crude little space carved out of the face of the city dedicated to coming clean, washing away dirt and grime and removing stains. Come in tainted, marked, and leave fresh and new.

What will these Muggles think of next? He hadn't realized that everyone's home didn't come equipped with a clunky, rattling washing machine in a dark, dank basement--that's how his apartment building is, so why wouldn't everyone else's be the same? But that must not be the case, because here he is in this place--a laundry store nestled between a smoke shop and a pizza place.

There's even a television affixed to the wall in one corner showing one of Draco's (new) favorite Muggle films. He can't afford cable (and, honestly, doesn't really understand it), but he did rescue a discarded telly from the sidewalk and managed to tune it into a single fuzzy black-and-white channel. He continues to ignore the woman's sidelong glances as he sinks into one of the plastic chairs and mouths along with the dialogue.

And he is delighted. It's just the kind of weird and wonderful that has brought him so much joy in his new life.

Later, when Draco finally opens his own laundromat, he doesn't just launder clothing. He'll clean anything you have that needs a good wash--he is a wizard, after all, so nothing is out of his capability.

His neighbors flock to his little establishment because nowhere in the city does so good a job. The inside is decorated like a movie-theater-arcade-bubble-gum-oasis and it's a fun place to be. And the guy who runs it? He makes his own washing soap and stain remover that works better than anything you'll find in the grocery store. He can wash, dry, fluff, and fold your laundry faster than you can blink. No one knows how he does it, but all his customers are so satisfied they don't even think to ask.

And if a certain dark-haired, green-eyed man convinces Draco to put in a back door that opens right onto the Wizarding neighborhood (it'll double, triple!, the profits; more business is good, Draco; I can handle that side of things if it makes you uncomfortable but I will never let anyone hurt you, ever again), then so be it.

[if I ever wrote this, you'd be getting way too much detail about how Draco reconciles with his magic and uses it in fun and interesting ways] Thanks for indulging me, friend!

I wish you would write a fic where...

[leviiattacks]

CASHIER LEVI AND LIKE THE READER IS THE CUSTOMER AND IT’S LIKE THEY HAVE A CRUSH ON EACHTOHER

author note :: honestly not my best at all..... like at all..... this was actually pretty good but the entire draft got deleted and i just lost all my effort but i felt bad for starting it and not completing it for anon so you may take whatever i have managed to salvage. i hope u enjoy it :’( i am extremely sick rn and yeah writing is the only break i am currently getting from anything :-) SO AGAIN I’ M SORRY ANON..... i may write a 10k + word fic on this though so i can redeem myself bc this is just disappointing 😭

word count :: 3.3k

every single thursday you stop by ackermart. maybe it’s because the day is convenient for you or perhaps it’s because of a certain cashier that works the evenings...

HAHA it’s got nothing to do with a cashier why would it have anything to do with a cashier? :-)

today is like any other. you walk through the fresh produce aisle then proceed to make your way towards the bakery section picking up a loaf of bread

it’s stupid, you know it is but... you think you’ve worked up enough courage to speak to him today!!

and who is him you may ask?

levi at till number four. his tired eyes always happen to pierce into yours and his calloused thumbs brush past your skin when you hand him your rewards card

levi is what his bright red name tag says and although he doesn’t look like a levi you’d like to think your crush isn’t stealing someone’s identity so you believe that it’s his real name

anxiously fiddling with your basket you’re beginning to think this was a horrible idea

the girl ahead of you is flirting up a storm with him and although he’s not reciprocating it by any means you still feel deterred

levi bags the last of her groceries and looks up at her when she asks for a way to contact him. he doesn’t look mad... just bored?

“ma’am. this is an ackermart i don’t think it’s appropriate you ask me for my number. the customer service line is listed on our website.”

the woman raises a brow looking completely flabbergasted. okay, if everything before this wasn’t a warning THIS sure was

she stomps off when she realises levi isn’t kidding and you think you’d feel bad for her maybe if she was more respectful about it

“next customer.” levi calls over his shoulder and you shuffle forward pretending to be engrossed in your phone

“cash or card?” he asks plainly.

you hear the BEEP of your groceries being scanned and think on it for a while before replying with “cash”

you’re clearly pretty good at your pretend to be totally into your phone act because levi tries to get your attention but you don’t hear what he has to say till the third time he repeats himself

but even then you’re still unsure what it is he’s said????

looking down you see his hand is stuck out in front of you and now you’re even more confused

faltering for a second you look at his palm and then speak

“um, i guess your hand is nice? it’s pretty big compared to the rest of you actually.”

“i was asking for your cash?” he says and now you look at his palms in mortification

gasping you yANK your hand into your purse as you laugh awkwardly fishing around to find your money

“oh, OH i knew that. just kidding!! i mean- i meant that thing about your hand?? but i thought it was- i funny? yes the joke funny? i’m-”

he leans back into his spinning chair and sighs contently. “you’re not making much sense peaches.”

“pe- peaches??” you repeat. no way you’ve heard that correct

levi lazily points at the abundance of the aforementioned fruit in your grocery bags

“you must love em.”

“i, well yeah i do like peaches but i also like...” um??? what food would make you look sophisticated and professional?

OH YEAH

“FRENCH CUISINE :-)!!!!” you say rather proudly

“...cool. i guess.” levi hands you your grocery bag which is basically an invitation asking for you to get out

he doesn’t seem mad but he’s definitely going to look back at this encounter and laugh his ass off at how stupid you are

hanging your head down low in embarrassment you make your way out towards your car

there’s always next time!! maybe you can practice in the mirror yeah that does sound like it would help!!!

okay so.

it is officially next time.

actually you never got the opportunity to practice in front of the mirror because you chickened out of looking like an idiot even if it was in the privacy of your own home

but!!! you did try to practice some cool pick up lines because who doesn’t like a good pickup line or two??

the two mini milk cartons in your hand and the pack of doughnuts you have tucked under your arm aren’t too heavy so you aren’t too worried about having to wait in the line

for some reason the guy in front of you keeps turning around and glancing at you as if you don’t even exist

you are not casper the ghost

also casper is a little boy and you definitely aren’t a little boy

finally after a good five minutes the man ahead of you is having his stuff scanned but he’s STILL doing it. even levi notices and gives him an odd look which borders annoyance and anger.

“can i pay for your groceries? maybe walk you to your car?” the stranger asks suddenly

so that’s what this is, he’s simply taken an interest in you

my god this is new but it is uncomfortable and you’d rather say no

“oh, i actually walked here and no thanks i can pay for my own. enjoy the rest of your day!!” you hope your white lie is enough to fool the man but instead of agreeing as any other person would he looks majorly deceived

“i saw you in the parking lot.” ok this is getting a bit too uncomfortable for your liking

“c’mon i’m offering to buy your shit too?”

his voice is raising and you’re not sure what exactly you can do but thankfully for you the manager steps in and takes him away before any more threats can be made

the man had taken up so much of your attention you almost forgot levi was even there until you turned back around

“do you want a member of staff to accompany you to your car? it’s getting dark out.” levi’s comment helps ease your nerves and you try to laugh off what just happened

“i’m good :-)” you say shaking a little. you’re unsure if it’s the cold or the fact you still haven’t completely calmed down

“you sure peaches?”

“i haven’t bought any peaches this time.”

“you’re still peaches to me.” your cheeks flush at his confidence

wait, maybe this is your chance. you’re the last person in his line and they’re closing up for the day so...

“could you walk me to my car?”

and to your surprise even before you can take back what you’ve said levi agrees

it stays like that for a while.

every thursday levi walks you to your car by the end of his shift, all the while the two of you exchange a few words together

like last week you asked him what his favourite colour was (he said purple) you’ve learnt about his hobbies (he’s a decent cook), you’ve even found out about some of his own personal problems. he had mentioned suffering with insomnia in passing.

to be honest each and every time he walks you to your car he has to notice that you begin to park further and further away from the front entrance. but if he does notice he doesn’t say a word about it

“is that all you’re checking out?” you ask with a cheeky grin plastered across your face

looking down at your new dress your lopsided grin is far from fading away any time soon. you especially picked this one out after asking levi what his favourite colour was last week

god. this is so embarrassing but never actually have you had a crush this huge

levi who’s sat behind the counter shoots you a look which almost seems to be on the verge of uninterested. he isn’t entertaining this at all or this is just his typical bored face, you can’t really tell

BUT..... you still have a huge crush on him and you aren’t one to give up this easily

for the record you don’t harass him or anything, just the occasional hint is thrown around but he’s either really dense or doesn’t care

his expression does you no favours, you can’t tell what he’s thinking half the time

“you’re always buying energy drinks... might want to cut down on those they’re no good for you.”

warmth blooms in your chest. he’s just saying it to make small talk but the fact he even thinks to bring that up has your heart fluttering

“i- well- yeah i will!! just have a few overdue essays to get over with :-)” twiddling your thumbs together you think that makes your nerves too obvious so you begin to scratch at the back of your neck

if anything is a dead give away it’s your constant neck scratching, thankfully levi hasn’t picked up on it

“so you wore purple today?” his eyes linger on the thin straps of your dress and you feel the goosebumps rise up onto your skin immediately

“oh yeahhhh-”

“did i tell you yellow was my favourite colour last week?” he asks holding up a neon yellow pack of crisps and for the first time you see him smile

he looks so ?!|>\€|^ pretty ?!/)/&

wait?? yellow??

“didn’t you say purple?”

“no?” he crosses his arms playfully over his chest thinking for a bit

“maybe i did but no it’s really yellow.” he says as he hands you your bag

nodding your head you smile “yeahhhh sure it is.”

damn, now you’re going to have to find a yellow dress just to make him revert back to purple because who even likes yellow?? that’s a deal breaker right there??

update

it’s been two weeks!!

and a yellow dress has been found and secured B-)

it’s been a pretty rough day at work and you need to desperately collect a pack of green tea and get going

you don’t know when exactly being a secretary meant you had to babysit your boss’ children but that’s what the last week has entailed

being made to work overtime to this extent has had an effect on you and you’re ready to head home as soon as you swing by ackermart

not seeing levi for a week made you a little :-( because to be honest he’s the highlight of your thursday evening BUT!! you’ll be able to see him today at least

walking in through the entrance you’re met with connie smiling right at you, he holds the door open for you and smile back greeting him

“so you didn’t come last week...?”

it’s weird for him to ask that, after all you don’t really speak to anyone here apart from levi, you’re surprised you’re enough of a regular to be known by name

“oh i didn’t think anyone would notice? but yeah i had to work overtime you know what boss’ are like.” groaning you crouch down and look at the pot noodles on display

“i didn’t notice it. boss man did.”

“boss man?” you ask feeling out of loop

“levi.” connie answers as he hops into the backroom

????

isn’t he just a cashier??

“you still look confused.” connie remarks as he heads back out with a cardboard box full of pringle’s tubes

“levi’s the boss man, this is his store. he literally only ever mans the cash register on thursday evening because of you.”

at that you start laughing because it makes no sense at all to you

there’s no way connie is being serious

“good one.” you say as you stand up with a chicken flavored noodle in your hand

“i’m not kidding?”

turning around you give him a skeptical look

he sighs and shakes his head.

“listen. me and the part timers are tired of making bets on when he’ll give you his number and i bet that it would happen today so if you could confess to each other that would be perfect!!!”

“who said i like-”

“anyone with a brain can tell you both like each other.” he’s rolled his eyes so far into the back of his head you begin to take him a little more seriously now

“i... did i make it that obvious??” you’re directly facing him trying to get out as much information as you can

“yeah. very. at least levi wasn’t as bold.”

“i think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick he definitely doesn’t like me.”

connie gives you an “are you fucking with me?” look and you look away trying to distract yourself with the the canned goods lining the shelves

“he was worried sick when you didn’t come in for the entire week. he even asked me if he scared you away.”

“maybe i’m just his favourite customer?”

“favourite customer my ass he has a crush on YOU. confess.”

playing around with the ends of your sleeves connie sees he’s fighting a losing battle unless he gives you definitive solid proof

“please... i’ll get free barbecue if i win the bet and i’m kinda broke rn :-(” okay, you do want connie to eat well and be treated and maybe this is a good thing. if levi doesn’t like you then you can move on!!

“i’ll think about it.”

before connie can continue talking you make a beeline towards the tea aisle whilst throwing a “see you next time!” over your shoulder.

by the time you’ve gathered all of your groceries your basket is full to the brim. you’ve been lingering as much as you can out of fear but you think you’ve collected just enough courage to ask for his number

looking at the cash register levi is sat there and your shoulders slump. he’s probably going to say no and you’re going to look like a huge loser.

right as you’re about to take a step towards him levi finally spots you and gives you one look before standing up from his seat

“hi!” you wave at him

“...hey!” he smiles wide but he bites it back pretending it was never there in the first place

placing your basket in front of him he eyes what you’ve got

“hm... lots of peaches as per usual peaches.” the nickname that rolls of his tongue makes you tremble a little. will he call you that after you fuck everything up with this stupid confession?

his tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek when he gets to the heart shaped box of chocolates

“a gift for a friend? didn’t know you had those?” he teases as he scans the barcode

“gift for a crush!” you reply back enthusiastically as you dig through your wallet looking for your card

levi doesn’t respond for a few seconds and an awkward silence fills the air. you glance up to see him looking at you open mouthed in shock

“good luck.” he murmurs under his breath he’s not even returning your gaze at this point and is hurriedly scanning through your barcodes

“you okay?” you ask worrying about his mood

“yeah, yeah. great.” he’s quieter than usual.

the rest of your encounter is the same, levi silently bags your groceries and you can’t tell if this is a good or bad response.

just as he’s about to place the heart shaped box into your plastic bag you lunge forward holding his wrist to stop him

“no i don’t need those.”

he cocks his eyebrow upwards trying to analyse your expression and gain an understanding of your thoughts

“don’t tell me you’re chickening out. whoever it is will say yes.” he scoffs as he places the chocolates into the bag handing them over to you with a warm smile

there it is again. the fear returns and you swipe your tongue over your slightly dry lips.

no way.

is he telling you to confess to someone now? so he must not like you?

taking the bag away from him you scratch your neck out of habit and huff feeling frustrated

“he keeps giving me mixed signals.” you say hoping he catches your drift

“give him the chocolates and let him put two and two together. don’t even say anything.” his advice would be great if he weren’t the guy you were trying to confess to in real time

nodding you reach into the bag and bring the box back out before gently placing it in front of levi

“are you serious?” he asks and your face drops seeing the possible displeasure in his eyes

great, connie and the part timers just over analysed he doesn’t like you, obviously he doesn’t like you, why would he like you?

without looking back you hurry out, the embarrassment is eating you away now and the thought of ever returning to ackermart isn’t even feasible in your mind

at this point you may as well change your name, identity, dye your hair, have a few children and wear sunglasses the next time you come back so you look like a soccer mum and not the foolish y/n who thought they had a chance with their cute CASHIER???

god, you probably look like a creep

the sound of footsteps can be heard behind you and labored breaths follow before levi calls out for you

“please wait up.” he grumbles. slowing down your pace you let him catch up to you. he grabs at your wrist and sighs in relief

turning you see him savour the air

is this the part where he confesses he likes you too or—

“your receipt you forgot it.” he gasps as he opens your hand for you and places it into your palm

oh.

fingers clasping shut onto the paper you feel the humiliation seep into your pores

this.

is.

the.

worst.

moment.

of.

your.

life.

“open it.” he offer you a boyish smile and your nerves don’t let you find comfort in it

you grimace as you fold it open, you’re imagining he’s charged you an extra £100 for having unwanted feelings for him and if that’s the case you’ll die on the spot

but instead your eyes light up in joy. you’re pleasantly surprised

...

inside of the receipt is his phone number haphazardly sprawled across in black biro - you even double check by comparing it to the number for the customer service helpline

hello??

HELLO.?.!/)£ HIS NUMBER???

“if you just wanted to return the chocolate this is embarrassing.” he’s the one who’s now scratching at his neck and you find that he’s endearing this way

the streetlight from above illuminates him, the shadows cast over his face and his brows aren’t furrowed as they usually are

you open your mouth to reply but connie cuts you off unintentionally. he can be heard YELLING into his phone ecstatic that his plan has worked out

“I WIN!!! HA BBQ’S ON YOU JEAN!! MUST SUCK TO BE YOU.”

you and levi look at each other and laugh, reassuring the other of what has just happened.

well...

you guess this is the start of something new? maybe??

:-)

[wainwrightjakobshammerlock]

Rating the Borderlands weapon manufacturers but it's in terms of color scheme

Vladof: Red, grey, white, maybe some tinges of brown. Fairly standard and fits the rest of their aesthetic. A solid 6/10.

Tediore: Blue in all its shades and grey in all its shades. Really basic but it's supposed to be basic. 5/10 for extra basicness.

Atlas: Everything is in varying shades of red. Everything. I can appreciate the commitment to the color but otherwise it's kinda cringe and uninteresting. There's some white and grey too but not enough to make it cool. 2/10.

Dahl: Green, grey, greyish blue. In my book you get props for patterning properly and these mfs took that to mean to put camo on everything. 2/10.

Jakobs: All the shades of brown and green, hints of maroon, gold, silver and glowing blue. Classic steampunk palette. Keyword, classic. 7/10.

Old Hyperion: Plain black and red. Points for edginess I guess. 2/10.

Bandit: Black and red and the occasional orange. Also sick ass paint jobs and patterns. Edginess but slightly more interesting. 4/10.

Scav: Blue in all shades as well as purple. Very space, very cool. 6/10.

COV: Literally the entire rainbow, plus neons and splatter patterns. It's a mess but it's meant to be a mess. I fucking love it even though they are a pain to look at directly. 9.5/10.

Torgue: Red, blue, black and white, all at max saturation. My eyes are in pain. 1.5/10.

New Hyperion: Piss yellow. Just... piss yellow. 0/10.

[mustardyellowsunshine]

When the End Comes

Chapter 1: Cold is the Night

Kagome Higurashi was in deep shit.

“You didn’t really think you could get away, did you?” his voice slithered through the phone. His tone was almost chiding, laced with mock concern as though for a misbehaving child. She could almost see his raised eyebrows, the sneer curling his lips.

Kagome’s entire body went rigid. Despite herself, her pulse quickened, heart pounding a painful stuttering rhythm in her chest. She inhaled a hissing breath through clenched teeth. “Funny,” she spat into the receiver, “I think I already have.”

She was moving even as she spoke, leaping off the motel bed and shoving her arms into the sleeves of her green hoodie. She grabbed the sandy yellow duffel bag she always kept within reach and slung it over her back, the strap a thick diagonal across her chest.

“Tsk, tsk, Kagome,” he crooned, still with that goddamn paternal censure. “You won’t get far. You never do.” He paused, and his voice deepened, as though he relished every word. “I’m only telling you this for your own good. You know that when you’re caught you’ll have to be punished.”

Her heart gave a particularly painful thump as she threw open the door of her motel room, her car keys gripped tight in her fist. The neon-lit night air punched into her lungs. She could feel her breath growing shallow as her chest constricted. Her temples were beginning to throb in tandem with the rapid beat of her pulse.

But she wouldn’t give that bastard the satisfaction of knowing she was scared.

“If you just come back,” he was saying, voice smooth and dark as an oil slick, “it’ll be easier on you in the end. You won’t—”

“Shut up,” she said, ragged and guttural, the words ripped from her very core. “The only way I’m ever going back there is in a body bag.”

She snapped the flip-phone closed and tossed it into the bushes lining the motel’s exterior—it was a burner cell phone, she’d have to get another now—but she didn’t do it quickly enough to miss his whispered promise.

“That can be arranged.”

_________________________________________________________

As she peeled out of the motel parking lot—the engine of her decade-old Honda Fit chugging to keep up with the sudden acceleration—she tried to figure out how he’d gotten the number of her burner cell. She wasn’t stupid, she knew burner cells didn’t guarantee anonymity. But it was a new burner. She’d only had it for a week, and hadn’t used it for much of anything yet. Not for fake credit card applications, not for hotel reservations or car rental paperwork. This number she’d kept to herself. She didn’t even have the phone turned on most of the time. And he’d still found it.

Her breathing was still too rapid and shallow, her heart still beating an abnormal jerky rhythm. She needed to calm down. She needed to plan her next steps. If she didn’t, she risked making a stupid mistake that might get her caught.

As she turned a sharp left onto the Shuto Expressway—going much too fast if the squeal of her tires was any indication—Kagome forced herself to take deep breaths and relax her shoulders. She tried to focus her mind on the measures she’d taken in the last month to avoid his detection.

She’d learned from painful experience that if she wanted to disappear, it wasn’t enough to just cover her trail. She had to keep her hunters busy, too. Keep them preoccupied with looking for her in the wrong places.

Disinformation was a powerful tool. Kagome had learned that if she left enough bogus trails behind her, she could give herself the precious advantage of time. A head start. All it took was the right paperwork trail: an application to rent an apartment, resulting in a credit check from the landlord, creating an inquiry on her credit report. Any tracker running a credit report on her would see the inquiry and follow it back to the apartment’s location. And by the time they’d traced her there, she’d have already developed a whole mess of fake information to keep them tangled in dead-ends for awhile: applications for utilities and phone service at the apartment she would mysteriously never move into; a fake employment address at a large local company that would require investigation to verify; small bank accounts opened in her name all over the area.

It was all about wasting their time, so she could give herself more time to get further away.

And it had been working. For the last month she’d kept two steps ahead of him.

So she just had to do it again, that was all. She had to start another fake trail. Maybe this time it would be another bank account, another credit card application.

It didn’t matter that he’d somehow gotten her burner number. She’d just get another. And another. Maybe a burner SIM card this time, so she could actually use smartphones again.

Exhaling long and slow, Kagome finally felt her heartbeat return to normal. The throbbing in her temples eased, and she could think more clearly.

She just had to keep doing what she’d been doing. Fake trails, constant moving, never staying in one place—or even one region—for too long. She’d been doing fine, and she could keep doing fine if she just played it smart.

She’d never allow Naraku to catch her again.

_________________________________________________________

Kagome Higurashi only allowed herself enough possessions to fit into her yellow duffel bag. Three pairs of jeans, four shirts (two white t-shirts, one knit sweater, and one nice floral blouse for the right occasions), one hoodie, one pair of sneakers, one pair of thick rubber-soled boots, five pairs of underwear and three bras. She kept a thick winter coat in her car, in addition to a pack of water bottles and emergency food supplies in the trunk.

She didn’t carry a purse. She had one leather trifold wallet—with RFID blocking, of course—in which she kept no more than ¥30,000 in cash; three state-issued ID cards, one real, two fake; six credit cards, four under fake names, two under her real name for the sake of bogus trails.

She had a passport. She had basic hygiene supplies—toothpaste, face cleanser, shampoo, tampons. She had two screwdrivers and one wrench. She had exactly one picture of her family, tucked away into an inner pocket of her duffel. She had one novel, dog-eared and spine-creased. She had a 9mm pistol and four boxes of ammunition.

Whenever she stayed in a hotel, she kept her duffel within easy reach. Always ready for a quick exit. She never unpacked it. Never. If she was feeling especially anxious, she would use it as a pillow, or sleep with her legs draped over it.

The duffel was one of the last things she'd grabbed before she was taken. Somehow having it with her felt like having a tiny piece of home.

__________________________________________________________

Over the next few days, she made her way steadily north, towards the Miyagi Prefecture. She’d taken a detour and left some fake trails to the south around Yokohama. Now she wanted to head in an entirely different direction. She didn’t know how long it would take Naraku’s hunters to find the Yokohama trail, but she wanted to be far, far away when they did. Hopefully they would think she’d kept heading south.

She’d found a car junkyard on the outskirts of Tokyo, where she’d snuck in after hours and lifted the license plates off a few junkers. As a precaution, she’d swapped her car’s license plates that night, and she planned to do it again after her next stint on the expressway.

The next day she stopped in a little suburb an hour outside Fukushima. She hoped to get her hands on a burner SIM card—surely this place had a decent electronics store?—but first she had another problem to fix. She was starving.

She walked around until she found a decent-looking ramen shop. It was small and cramped—a stretch of bar long enough to accommodate eight stools, behind it a kitchen partially hidden by curtains—and it smelled heavenly. She sat at the bar and ordered a bowl of chuka soba.

Sōta’s favorite.

But, delicious though the ramen turned out to be, Kagome began to feel more and more uneasy the longer she sat there. She glanced around her. The shop was nearly empty. Two old men sat on the farther side of the bar, noisily slurping their noodles. The man in the kitchen, half obscured by the curtains, had his back turned to her as he stirred something in a huge stock pot on the stove. And anyway, nobody had hardly looked at her the entire time she’d been here.

She turned her head enough to look behind her, through the sliding glass doors of the shop. The street beyond was quiet. A handful of pedestrians passed by on the sidewalk as she watched. An occasional car swept by.

But the unease turned to a persistent hum of anxiety, prickling along her skin. She couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her.

She tried to ignore it—it wasn’t as though paranoia was new to her—but it kept getting worse. Soon the ramen started to taste like cardboard in her mouth; a cold leaden weight settled in the pit of her stomach.

Scrubbing her hands down her face, Kagome sighed. She stubbornly willed away the prickle of tears she felt collecting in the corners of her eyes.

Crying was a distraction she couldn’t afford.

Pulling her wallet out of her back pocket, she dropped the Yen she owed onto the counter of the bar and left the shop.

Kagome retraced her steps to where she’d parked her car. Out on the street, she watched the people milling around her without looking like she was watching them. Her ears were hyper-sensitive to the street sounds: every pedestrian’s footstep sounded like it was right on her tail, every voice felt raised and aggressive, every vehicle on the road seemed to break right when it passed her. Her shoulders were hunched up to her neck. She tried to relax them.

She rounded the corner of the street where she’d parked. Her eyes sought the familiar shape of her little Honda—and suddenly she came to a halt in the middle of the sidewalk

A man was leaning against the passenger door of her car. And he was looking right at her.

He was tall, maybe six feet. Lean athletic build. His muscular arms were crossed over his chest, legs crossed at the ankle as he casually lounged against her car. Shoulder-length silver hair. Yōkai ears—dog? cat?—sat atop his head, angled towards her. Claws tipped the fingers that rested against his arms. And his eyes—still staring directly at her—were gold.

Kagome sucked in a breath. She felt the muscles in her shoulders bunch up again.

Her thoughts started whirring as panic squeezed her lungs. She shouldn’t have stopped. Shouldn’t have acknowledged his stare. She should’ve kept walking as though she hadn’t seen him, as though that wasn’t her car at all. She might have blended in with the crowd if she hadn’t just made herself so obvious. She hardly could’ve given herself away any faster, except maybe if she’d shouted “Hey, look at me!” How could she salvage this now?

He’d already noticed her, and unless he was a complete idiot, he knew she was suspicious—probably knew she was afraid. She couldn’t take that back by trying to blend in.

Her only hope here was speed, and maybe the relative safety of being in public.

Kagome abruptly whipped around and ran.

She’d barely made it ten feet before she felt a large hand clamp down on her shoulder. It spun her around with a strength that nearly sent her toppling over on the sidewalk.

On impulse she opened her mouth to scream—but his other hand smothered her lips, stifling her cry.

Golden eyes narrowed down at her. “You Kagome Higurashi?”

She jerked fiercely against the hand on her shoulder. It didn’t budge.

A small smirk lifted one corner of his mouth. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, his voice a deep rumble.

“You’re coming with me.”