#* (&. ask) all intel is important ; no matter how silly it might sound .

[orchidice]

      of course , one would know that even before entering liyue's borders , that the woman already had information on his arrival . and , like the good host she is , she would be the first to greet the man , even if from the shadows .

   her smirk remains , and that glint in her teal eyes does too ——— just as a small chuckle can be heard from her as she steps into the light , arms crossed .

   "" why , thank you ——— had to do some modifications to it so it would fit my liking , but i'm glad you enjoy it . "" her voice is one of tease , one of playing ; because that's what she did best , wasn't it ?

   yelan doesn't even care for the stares the man's security might give her as she comes closer , even daring to fix his robe on him .

   "" dinner at 8pm , usual place ? ""

|| @lorendiel asked ! . . . ah , homeland of a distant past . distaste is hidden rather well as one of HIS banks is within the area. there is no longer a moment to waste due to anger . ( let it fuel hidden desires ) and no longer than minutes within LIYUE that the regrator finds himself being WATCHED ; eyes catch cold calculating ones : “ oh ? now, what a STUNNING jacket — ”

[starryeyedweeb]

Walking In On Your Fave Anime Blondes Singing Along to Dolly Parton’s “Dumb Blonde”

Content Includes: Honestly, this could be read as either platonic or romantic- it’s basically borderline crack meant to give you a smile and some laughs. All underaged characters are aged up to 18+. Gender neutral reader, some language

Characters Included: Armin Arlert, Kurapika Kurta, Hawks/Takami Keigo, Tsukishima Kei, Gojou Satoru, Bakugou Katsuki

“Just because I’m blonde, don’t think I’m dumb. Because this dumb blonde ain’t nobody’s fool.”

Armin

This is actually his power song

Before important meetings and strategy sessions where he’s slated be a big presenter, you’ll always hear him mumbling the same words over and over again under his breath, but you can never make out what they are

Until one day when you’re able to connect the dots 

One such meeting was coming up, and you leave for it before Armin does

He had just told you that he’s not quite ready to leave yet, but doesn’t explain why

You don’t think much about it and carry on, until you realize that you left a part of your harness at home and have to turn back

As you walk back through the door, you notice the sound of singing coming from his bedroom

The voice is distinctively Armin’s, and seeing as you’ve never heard him sing before, you’re actually quite excited

You sneak in as quietly as possible, and much to your amusement, you find him singing to himself in the mirror, pointing back at himself and belting the words almost aggressively

“Because this dumb blonde ain’t nobody’s fool!”

You wanted to sneak away and pretend you never saw anything, but you can’t resist bursting out into laughter

He jumps around and yelps, his face turning cherry red

“Y/N! I thought you left! I, um...I- this was...”

“Oh, my god.” A realization dawns on you. “Is that what you’re always whispering under your breath when you’re nervous?”

“Um...yeah. It just makes me feel stronger, I guess. I know, it’s so stupid...”

“No, it’s so cute! I promise,” you assure him. “And it’s fitting.”

“Really?”

“Of course! Even though you’re blonde, there’s not a dumb bone in your body.” You wrap him in a hug. “And you definitely aren’t anybody’s fool. Never let yourself be convinced otherwise.”

Kurapika

He’s had a bad day at work.

A really bad day.

He bursts through the front door one evening, eyes bright crimson, absolutely raving about how sick he was of being pushed around and treated like he’s less than he is, spewing out ultimatums such as “To hell with the intel, I’m never going back to being a bodyguard ever again.”

To cheer him up and to get away until his anger could simmer down, you offer go pick up his favorite meal

And as you approach the door with the food in hand, you hear something odd on the other side

You cautiously open the door and peer inside, discovering Kurapika yelling along to the popular song

No, seriously- yelling

There’s no sense of song to his cadence whatsoever, he’s just hollering louder than you’ve ever thought him capable of

He’s also pulled out a basket of laundry and has started throwing it around the room as he continues on his rampage

(It was the least destructive thing he could take his anger out on)

You tiptoe over to put the food on the counter, but he’s still yet to notice you

When he shows no signs of stopping, his eyes growing redder by the second, you eventually clear your throat

“Pika, what are you doing?”

He stops with a jolt, the ending notes of the song fading away in the background

The red of his eyes drops down to his face as he realizes what you just saw

“y/n...how long have you been standing there?”

“Since the first chorus.” You choke down a giggle. “I didn’t know you liked that song.”

“I don’t, I just...” He rubs the back of his neck. “Silly as this is, it’s just the best way I’ve found to relieve my petty stress in a safe way.”

“So... this is something you do often?”

His face grows so red you think it might burst. “...yes.”

You two stare at each other for a few moments, then simultaneously burst into laughter

The kind where your entire body shakes, your stomach hurts, and tears spill from your eyes

When he doubles over to catch his breath, you cross the room to wrap him in a hug, rocking back and forth

“Can I join in next time?” you teasingly ask. “It looks fun.”

Kurapika wipes his cheeks and rolls his eyes with a smile. “Sure, why not? Just don’t tell anyone else.”

Hawks

This was the first time you had ever slept over with Keigo, and what he listens to while getting ready comes as quite a surprise.

He gets up before you do, and you wake to hear strange music coming through the closed bathroom door

You tiptoe over to see what’s going on, sliding the door open as quietly as possible

Not that he would’ve heard you, anyway, because as he’s doing his eyeliner, he’s humming along to the blaring Dolly Parton hit, swaying his hips in time with the beat

When the song reaches its defining line, he pulls the eyeliner pen away from his face and throws his head back, wailing the lyrics to the ceiling with comedic passion

You stifle your laughter behind your hand as he returns to his task, still  oblivious to your presence

Picking a choice moment to reveal yourself, you burst fully into the bathroom and fix him with a mischievous look

“Whatcha listening to?”

He jumps in shock when he spots you, leaving a streak of eyeliner down his cheek

“Fuck!” He exclaims, pouting at the black stripe. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” you tease.

“I mean, it’s not what it looks like.” He avoids eye contact, hunting around for makeup remover. “Don’t you just have a random song that gets you motivated, no matter how stupid it is?”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed.” You hoist yourself up onto the bathroom counter next to him. “Dolly Parton is amazing. ‘Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Joleeeeeeene’.”

“You know what? She is. You’re so right.” He points his eyeliner at you, nodding in aggressive approval. “See? This is why I like you.”

And you can bet your ass that every time you get in the car together from here on out, you’re blaring Dolly Parton

There have been several instances when you’ve shown up to missions with it pounding from the speakers as you sleekly step out of the car, ready to apprehend any villains that dare to cross the pair of you

And it’s the most badass thing ever.

Tsukishima

At this point in your relationship, you thought you had learned all of Tsukishima’s secrets.

You were wrong.

It starts completely innocently, with the two of you going with Yamaguchi for a boba run

And when Tsukishima settles into the driver’s seat, his phone auto-connects to the speakers and sends familiar country twangs through the car at a volume that prompts you to clap your hands over your ears

“Shit!” he mutters, fumbling around, unsure which would do the most damage control: changing the song or muting the volume

“Kei,” you guffaw, “what the hell were you listening to?”

“It was an ad,” he insists, eventually managing to get the volume to a favorable range and select a less-embarrassing song choice

“Don’t let him fool you, Y/N.” Yamaguchi’s head pokes between the two front seats. “Dumb Blonde is one of his favorite songs.”

“And don’t listen to how idiotic Yamaguchi’s being,” Tsukishima bites back, but the pink tinge growing over the top of his ears betrays his lie.

“It’s been one of his top five most played songs for about three years now,” Yamaguchi continues. “I think he relates to it.”

“You’re kidding!”

At this point, you can’t control your giggles, and Kei’s jaw grows tighter by the second

“Yeah, and once he has a couple of drinks in him, he’ll shamelessly belt the hell out of it at karaoke.” Yamaguchi’s gaze flickers to his phone as his finger rapidly scrolls. “Here, I have a video.”

“Yamaguchi, don’t you dare-”

Tsukishima reaches a long arm out to steal the phone, but you grab his hand before he can take it

“Aht aht, Tsukki,” you tease. “You have two passengers that you’re responsible for. Eyes on the road, please.”

As he glowers, Yamaguchi shows you a glorious video of Tsukishima absolutely wailing out the Dolly Parton hit into a karaoke microphone, the teammates around him laughing so hard that they almost appeared to be choking

“That’s amazing!” You squeal, belly hurting from so much laughter. “But I can’t believe that video didn’t spread around like wildfire.”

“Bold of you to assume that I don’t have worse blackmail to use against all of them,” Kei snaps.

“Well, you should know that you’re never going to live this down as far as I’m concerned.”

“I don’t know why it’s such a big deal. Everyone has guilty pleasures.” By this point, his face is the same shade as a tomato, but he fixes you with a knife-like gaze that strikes fear into your heart. “Shall I start listing yours?”

Gojou

(i know he’s technically silver/platinum but he just has blonde energy okay)

The last thing you expect to come home to after a long day of work is Dolly Parton music blaring through your home

And you expect even less to find Gojou standing on the couch, belting the song at the top of his lungs

Beyond the initial shock, you have to admit that he actually sounds quite good, hitting each note to perfection and performing the song with subtle corresponding choreography

“Gojou!” You eventually shout. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Oh, good! You’re home.” He deftly hops off the couch and approaches you with a grin. “I’ve been wanting your opinion on my act.”

“Your act?”

“Yes! The school staff has an annual karaoke contest coming up. I do this song every year, and it’s undefeated.”

“Every year? How have I never known about this?”

“I actually don’t have any idea. I have videos. I’ll show them to you, if you’d like.”

“You’re a little too proud of that,” you giggle. “But if it’s undefeated, why do you need my opinion on it?”

“Because everyone always conspires to try and beat me. I have to keep it fresh. But lately, it’s just been feeling stale.” He furrows his brows, a finger going to his chin in contemplation.

“How are you so serious about this but so carefree when you’re literally about to die?” You grab his elbows and give them a small shake. “Anyway, what I saw certainly didn’t seem stale. Seems like you were having a pretty good time.”

“A good time just isn’t enough anymore...”

You clap a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter as he paces around the room, more serious than you’d ever seen him

Over a karaoke contest to a Dolly Parton song

He snaps his fingers as he finally comes to his realization, approaching you with a sinister smile

“I’ve got it! You should perform it with me.”

“Are you serious? No! No no no.”

“Come on, don’t be so closed-minded.” Gojou grabs your hand and yanks you up onto the couch with him. “Give it a shot.”

After much protesting on your part and much silly encouragement on his, you try it out to pacify him, and end up being quite the dynamic duo

As he wished, you perform the comedic act at the karaoke contest, and satisfy Gojou by maintaining his undefeated record

“You know that you owe me big time now, right?” you ask as he admires the cheap trophy he’s just been handed.

He grins, draping his long arm over your shoulders. “Anything you want, you’ve got it.”

Bakugou

Bakugou discovers the song after Kirishima and Denki put it on his playlist as a joke

Denki had the bright idea to give Bakugou the nickname “dumb blonde” and figured that the prank would be the start of it all

Needless to say, it didn’t go over very well

There was yelling

And a few punches thrown

You eventually have to pull him away, imploring him to calm down

“I’m not going to calm down until that piece of shit is off my playlist.”

You promptly take his phone and hold it in front of him, removing the offending song

“See? Gone. Now please chill out.”

Flash-forward to a week or so later

You happen to walk into the gym for a late night run on the treadmill while he’s there doing weights

Since he was alone before you entered, his music is hooked up to the central sound system, blaring some heavy metal song as he softly hums along in time with his breaths

You don’t think anything of it, giving him a small wave and going to put your own earbuds in

Until the barely-perceptible lyrics seem a little familiar

You pause to listen for a moment, and shoot him a look of shock when you realize that he is, in fact, listening to a heavy metal cover of Dumb Blonde.

“Is this-”

“Shut up,” he snaps, avoiding eye contact and continuing to pump the machine with frightening intensity.

“How did you even find a cover like this?”

“Shut. Up.”

“I’m just so-”

“It just helps me work out, okay?” He lets the weight drop with a sharp clang. “Don’t you fucking dare tell anyone about this.”

You raise your hands in surrender. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good. Now get on with your workout and let me finish mine.”

He focuses his fiery gaze on the faraway wall, but strangely doesn’t bother to change or turn off the song

And you can’t resist pulling your phone out, pretending to take a selfie while you’re actually, in fact, filming him behind you

“I can see you, stupid,” he snaps. “I’m serious. I’ll fucking kill you.”

You jump in fear, the phone falling from your hands.

“I wasn’t!” You fib. “Besides, it’s away now.”

But little did he know, you had already captured everything you needed to see, and the footage was already on its way to Kirishima and Denki

You know that you’re beyond dead once he finds out what you had done, but the amusement of it all is beyond worth it

Besides, maybe now he’d think twice before the next time he makes fun of someone.

[masterjedilenawrites]

Blueberries and Cowboys: Chapter 2

A choose-your-own-adventure style fic. First, 2 platonic chapters for set-up/build-up. And then, the story will split into 2 paths depending on your romantic pairing preference: You and Thrawn, or You and Eli.

Chapter Masterlist

Chapter 2: The Plan

Pairing: None...yet...

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of bullying

Length: 2k

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

The rest of the week saw the three of you using every bit of free time outside your classes and studies to gather information for Thrawn to build a solid plan.

Eli tailed his pesky classmate Arden everywhere, even skipping a class one day to break into his dorm, trying to learn anything about the guy that could be useful to get him involved in the plot. Thrawn analyzed the simulation software and protocols that would be used to administer the tests, mapping out every possible way Commander Burdick could hijack it. And you were the one spying on the Burdick himself. Since the commander didn't seem too interested in your grades, you were able to shadow him without suspicion, and had been able to slip a bug into his offices to eavesdrop on any potential conversations about his plans for sabotage.

Your classmates and the staff were none the wiser. That was the advantage of being social outcasts. Half of them avoided you all like the plague, and the other half already thought you were weird people doing weird things. So it wasn't long before you'd all gotten enough intel to work with.

It was late in the evening at the end of the week. You found yourself in Thrawn and Eli's shared dorm, which looked identical to your own in the opposite wing, because the Empire couldn't bother with things like individuality or comfort. Eli sat on the edge of his top bunk, his legs swinging casually, and his coat unbuttoned to reveal a wrinkled undershirt you knew he hadn't bothered to wash all week. Thrawn paced about in the middle of the room, his long strides only allowing him about four good steps before he had to turn around. He still had his uniform on, boots and badges and all.

You leaned against the railing of the bed, watching Thrawn as he went back and forth. Sometimes he sat still when he was scheming, with his fingers steepled and his gaze seemingly reaching into some unknown dimension beyond your comprehension. That usually happened when he was running through variables that didn't concern you, at least from his perspective. You and Eli had accepted long ago there would always be parts of his plans he would never share with you. He was kind of a control freak like that.

But tonight, he seemed to be more welcoming of collaboration, hence his steady rhythm of pacing in front of you.

"Only one variable remains, as I see it," he was saying. "We understand how the commander will manipulate the system to cause a redundancy in the simulation, thus rendering the test impossible to finish successfully."

You and Eli shared a glance; the only person who truly understood how that was going to happen was Thrawn. He'd tried explaining numerous times but when it came to codes and tech, the two of you weren't able to fully keep up.

"We also know through your investigating," Thrawn motioned to you with what you thought was an impressed look, causing you to feel a little pride, "that the commander plans to only sabotage my test, believing it will be too suspicious if Eli also fails. He will also manipulate his false code to originate from the computer of his former lover Eva Carroway, who currently works in HR. So if an investigation does ensue, it will be traced to her and not him."

You and Eli chuckled under your breaths. It had been a little amusing when you'd discovered Commander Burdick was using this plan to not only undermine Thrawn, but also get revenge on his ex-girlfriend. But even more hilarious was how awkward Thrawn treated the subject. He had been quite perplexed to learn people could be so vindictive after a break-up. And any time he explained that detail of the plan, like he was doing now, he hesitated over his word choice. You couldn't tell if he only pretended to be confused about romantic relations, or if that was truly an area he found himself lost in.

If Thrawn noticed your snickering, he didn't respond to it, only continued to recap the plan. "We have also determined how we will expose the altered code naturally, so it does not cast suspicion on us... What was the word you used?"

"Backfire," said Eli.

"Yes. It would not due to have anyone suspect that we altered the test ourselves, or to have our concerns disregarded altogether. Thus, arranging for the maintenance crew to get a mild case of food poisoning so their performance checks are postponed to occur right before the tests will take care of that variable. At the least, they will fix the altered code and I will take the test as normal. At the most, they will report it and the commander faces expulsion."

"So..." said Eli through a yawn as he stretched. "What's left to work out, then?"

Now it was time for you and Thrawn to share a look.

"Were you not interested in involving your classmate, Arden Fey?" asked Thrawn in his soft, contemplative voice.

Eli shrugged. "Yeah. But Burdick's already got his scapegoat, his ex. So it'll be easier to keep him out of it. Whatever."

You could tell he was trying to be nonchalant. But just this morning, he had spent the entire walk between classes ranting about some new insults Arden had come up with, and how badly he wanted to show the guy up once and for all. You knew your friend wasn't feeling "whatever" about it.

"It's not a matter of ease or difficulty," Thrawn stated plainly. He had stopped pacing and was standing with hands behind his back, highlighting the broadness of his shoulders and the height of his stance. His presence seemed to fill up the whole room, and not for the first time, you were glad to be his friend and not his enemy.

"Yeah," you added in encouragement. "We just have to get creative. Find a way to make Arden a more appealing scapegoat than Burdick's ex. In fact...."

You trailed off as an idea occurred to you. You darted out of the room, surely leaving your two friends perplexed, but you would only be a second. You sprinted down the corridor toward the lifts, where a bulletin hung against the wall with fliers and pamphlets. One notice was a bit larger than the others, a promotion of an upcoming gala event to celebrate the Academy's anniversary. You ripped it off and went racing back to the boys' dorm room.

Eli had come down from the bunk and held a concerned look, probably prepared to follow you if you hadn't returned so quickly. Thrawn was still standing composed, but there was a curiosity in his eyes that made you smile.

You held up the poster in front of your chest. "What do you think the likelihood is of us playing successful matchmakers this week?"

Thrawn understood your idea almost immediately, looking down on you with a pleased smirk. It made you flush a little, to know the Chiss was impressed. You rarely had a chance to contribute good ideas when his mind worked so much faster than yours.

Eli caught on next, and he started to grin, the happiest you'd seen him in a while. His smile was infectious and you grinned back. Happy looked good on him.

"We know Eva's not shy with younger guys," you explained. "Before Burdick, she was fooling around with some intern in the med bay."

"And Arden's vain enough," added Eli. "If he thinks anyone's interested, he'll go for 'em."

"So we get him to ask her to the gala as his date...." you said.

"Burdick sees the two of them together...." said Eli.

"And realizes he can get back at his lover in another way, by pinning the sabotage on another student...." joined Thrawn.

The three of you stood together, proud and satisfied that yet another plan had finally worked out. It was almost worth the stressful studying and petty bullying and all the other unpleasant things you had to endure at this god-forsaken school, just to have fun moments like this with trusted friends.

"We should attend this gala as well," Thrawn said eventually, holding out a hand for the poster. He inspected it thoughtfully. "It is only a few days before the tests, so I hadn't planned to pay it any mind. But now...."

"Yeah, we should make sure Burdick's as jealous as we want 'im," nodded Eli.

You were secretly pleased. The plan was already a win-win, but now you would be able to go to the event yourself, too. You hadn't mentioned your desire to go to either of them before, figuring they weren't interested and not wanting to sound silly if you suggested it. But you did love dancing, and it was so very rare you got a chance to wear something other than your Imperial uniform.

"It's a dance," you noted, in case they couldn't tell by the details on the poster. "We'll need to go in pairs."

"I suppose it would make the most sense for you and Eli to go together," said Thrawn quietly.

You looked between the two, realizing both of them were flushed slightly. Eli's cheeks were dotted with pink, standing out amongst his dark brown features, while Thrawn had more of a purple tint to his face now, a color you'd never seen there before. You could feel yourself growing warm and uncomfortable as well. It was only a dance... only a way for you to enact a much more important plan... but it was the first time your trio had had to engage in anything other than platonic friendship. The balance of your group seemed to be shifting ever so slightly in this moment, and you had no way of knowing if it was for good or ill.

You cleared your throat, pushing away any feelings that might have been brewing in your chest, and instead calling focus back to the mission at hand.

"Actually, I think I'd better go with Thrawn. Whoever doesn't go with me would have to find their own date, and no offense Thrawn, but I think Eli has the better chance of asking someone else."

You hoped they hadn't noticed how hollow your voice sounded, how hard you were trying to keep yourself emotionless.

Eli was pinker than ever. "Uh, I highly doubt that..."

"You're not completely hated around here, you know," you said quickly. "Definitely not with the girls. You're not bad looking, you can be charming if you try, and you're... you know, human." You glanced at Thrawn and added again quietly, "No offense."

Thrawn shook his head. His color and demeanor had already slipped back into his usual neutral self. "No, I agree. Those are the dynamics of our peers and we must work with it. I will take you to the gala, Eli will find his own date, and all three of us will push Arden and Eva together as well. It's a good plan."

You all nodded in agreement. But there was a knot in your stomach, a nervousness you didn't quite understand. You cared very much for both Thrawn and Eli. They were your best friends, your only friends. As a group, you were bonded by your ostracism, protecting and supporting each other on your journey out of this hell-hole.

And separately, you had something special with each, too. You and Eli came from similar backgrounds, and had the same need to disconnect from your surroundings and just have a bit of fun every once in a while. The two of you had spent many late nights together, either hopping between bars, exploring the city, making each other laugh uncontrollably, or quietly sharing the honest thoughts you both buried far too deeply inside. Some nights you'd done all of the above, and returned to your dorm feeling both exhausted and renewed.

But Eli didn't always appreciate the finer things in life, and that's where you connected with Thrawn. He wasn't necessarily an optimist, but he had this way of noticing the beauty that existed everywhere around you, even in the most simple or mundane of moments. Everything had the potential to be interesting. His calm but strong presence had kept you grounded and sane throughout your studies here so far. Sometimes you would talk, other times you would simply be in the same space. And either way, you felt better about life.

You didn't exactly want your relationship with them to change. But you couldn't help but feel this gala would do just that....

Next Chapter: The Preparation >

Blueberry Path | Thrawn x reader

Cowboy Path | Eli x reader

[prompt-master]

An Unseen Dream

Kokichi didn’t like making a habit of listening to Monokuma, he knew better than anyone else the trickery and danger that might hide behind every word that bear spoke. Every “hint” and every “gift” was nothing more than a push for this game to drive off a cliff. Sure, no one was being harmed. In fact, their goal was rather simple, they just had to date each other in ten day increments and then they could leave. That didn’t leave Kokichi lowering his guard though, any game that they were forced to play couldn’t be a good one. No matter how innocent the rules seemed to be. Kokichi felt everything that damn bear said was just a trick of misdirection.

... But when he heard there was a key that could open the door to fantasies of the participants around him, Kokichi was at the casino gambling his heart away.

The key was a gaudy thing, just holding it felt gross. “A key to certain places filled with greed and lust,” that’s what the casino called it. It made him want to gag, but it made him want to laugh all the same. Greed and lust… he was sure there were many that would use the key for such things. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that some fantasies must get more frisky than others. Especially with that skank Miu walking around. Kokichi wasn’t doing this for lust though. He wasn’t doing it for greed either. Kokichi told himself he was doing this for many, many reasons.

 He was doing it to win the game, because if he knew everyone’s fantasies then it would be a piece of cake to win their hearts within the time limit. This was a game after all, and if anyone would master the ins and outs of it, it would be Ouma Kokichi. 

He was doing it as a means of gathering intel. How could he know things would be alright just because he one some weird dating game? They were kidnapped. For all they knew this could be the first stage of many games. And if they were willing to kidnap for it, they were willing to hurt for it too. It left an annoyed feeling in Kokichi whenever he saw the others, far too relaxed for kidnapping victims. It sometimes felt like he was the only one looking ahead. And if the day came when these people were his enemy… knowing their secretive fantasies wouldn’t hurt. 

And sure.. Maybe he was doing it just for a bit of fun too. In a world of uncensored fantization, amusement surely awaited Kokichi. He could only begin to imagine the hilarious scenarios he could witness with just this key. As he flipped the key around in his hand he wondered if Kiiboy would even be able to have a fantasy. It was probably something boring, like being a human with a 9-5 job. 

Despite all this, Kokichi knew his main reason for buying the key wasn’t so important. He knew that no matter how much he lied to himself there would always be that curiosity for a certain detective and what was buzzing around in his head. He had been fascinated with Shuichi since day one. 

When the others had relaxed and accepted the situation with little to no issue, Shuichi kept his guard up just like Kokichi did. He could tell, he could see it in those tense shoulders. He could tell that between dates Shuichi was investigating every nook and cranny to try and understand who kidnapped them. And although the two seemed to think in opposites, Kokichi couldn’t help but wonder if maybe they were one and the same. Even in a dating game, however, infatuation of any sort was a risk to Kokichi’s safety. He tried, oh he tried, to let go of this but it was hard not to be allured by someone with the talent that Shuichi had. Kokichi was more than just a liar, it was more accurate to say that he was a lie himself. Lying was a part of him, he could never give that up, even when it pushes others away. But a detective… a kind, sweet, attentive detective like Shuichi? Could he one day get to the point where he could lie to his heart's content, but Shuichi would always be able to read between the lines? Could he one day have a playful back and forth with Shuichi, like a real life game of chess where the two one upped each other using only their wits?

Could he get someone who just… understood him?

Kokichi tucked the key under his pillow and fell asleep to thoughts of Shuichi. What sort of fantasy would Shuichi have? Would it be an awe-inspiring one where he had such confidence  that he could be a hero? Maybe Shuichi wished to achieve something grand in his life, and reach celebrity status? Maybe Shuichi would have more… fun thoughts in mind, the quiet ones think the loudest, after all. He drifted off to these possibilities until they were no longer words and instead were just vague thoughts about Shuichi in general. 

But when he opened that door, he saw Kaito instead. 

He spent the entire night playing the role of Kaito’s passionate pilot rival, somehow the gayest and yet straightest thing Kokichi had ever experienced. When he’d woken up, one of the first things he did was march over to Monokuma to ask what gives. Of course, in a fun, unsuspecting, Kokichi way. 

“What? You thought you’d get to choose which student you get to twiddle with? That would be waaaay too much power for one of you naughty brats, upupupu! If you want to see someone special you better work for it.”

Of course. Kokichi couldn’t even pretend to be surprised. There was always a catch with the tricky types. He would know.

So, Kokichi kept trying. Again and again.

Miu, Angie, Gonta, Tenko, Maki, Kaede (he’s pretty sure he played Shuichi in that one), Ryoma, Kiibo. He’d gone through so many god damn dreams. He’d even gone through Korekiyo’s (who he promptly kicked in the face and ran away from). What the Hell was so elusive about Shuichi’s god damn fantasy that he wasn’t able to get lucky enough to see? And as he progressed through the others… it only made him more and more curious about Shuichi. The dreams could range from sexual, to domestic, to platonic, all of which he could see Shuichi having. With how intense the others were, and how much Shuichi kept to himself… damn it all, he just wanted a little peek! He had spent basically the entirety of the first ten days trying harder to get into this one fantasy than he was trying to get along with Rantaro on their dates. 

It was the last day of this iteration. He had already won with Rantaro, so he was safe. But soon enough tomorrow he would have to wake up and woo someone else over in only ten days. Kokichi didn’t want to risk failing, who knows what the punishment could be. This would be the last try for a while, he couldn’t let this silly desire distract him from what was important. 

He wondered what awaited him behind the door this time. Whatever it was, there was a guarantee it wouldn’t be boring. For good or for worse. Keeping his guard up in case he was bombarded with some sort of insanity, Kokichi opened up the door.

…

There was no one there?

Honestly, Kokichi couldn’t help but do a double take. He was expecting a lot of things to happen. Not… nothing. The only sounds in the room were from the obnoxious Merry-Go-Round pony that did laps around the bed. Typically someone would… just be standing there, in front of the bed, already sunken down into their fantasy world. Kokichi glanced to his left, at the pool. No one. He glanced to his right, at the assortment of BDSM gear. No one. Was it possible to get a null result? Maybe there’s no repeats… so he was meant to experience someone he already saw, like Miu, but because he can’t repeat he just gets… nothing? He wouldn't exactly put it past Monokuma to put in place such a boring unnecessary rule.

Ah. Wait. There was a shift on the bed. Maybe he wasn’t alone after all. He approached carefully, unsure if the build up was part of his role or not. 

“Oh.”

In the bed was Shuichi himself. He wasn’t wearing his hat for once, instead it was down at the end of the bed. Shuichi was curled up in a fetal position, wrapped within the golden sheets of the suite’s bed. One of his hands was loosely holding onto the blanket, the other was placed below his parted lips. His hair was slightly tussled, bangs hanging over his face. Most of his face was pressed within the plush, expensive looking pillows. But the exposed bits that Kokichi could see revealed Shuichi looking simply… at ease. It had only been about ten days, but he had never seen Shuichi looked so comfortable and okay. He didn’t even know he could look so relaxed. Kokichi couldn’t bring himself to wake him up.

His fantasy was just… to get some rest. 

Kokichi laid down in the empty space of the bed left to Shuichi. He had never really gotten a moment to indulge in how nice this bed actually feels. He could feel himself sinking into the mattress. He wondered briefly if maybe it was only so relaxing because Shuichi wanted it to be. Kokichi tucked himself under the covers, which felt way too warm and soft for normal bed sheets. Even the movement of the Merry-Go-Round wasn’t grating on his ears anymore, it just felt like a humble background noise that lulled him into relaxation. This had to have been a part of Shuichi’s fantasy. Only he could create a fantasy world designed to ease your mind. He pressed his back against Shuichi’s, thinking about how this could possibly be the closest he’d ever get to him. 

Was this… really all he wanted? The others thought on a monumental scale. They were all so self indulgent, even Kaede. Even himself. But here Shuichi was, within the vast expanses of his imagination, the thing that brought him the most joy was the idea of getting restful sleep. Why did he dream so small? Kokichi gripped the blanket tighter within his fist, feeling the rise and fall of Shuichi’s back. 

“This dream could be real.”

Kokichi could make it real. 

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

The next morning it was announced that ten days were over, and that no one had failed the first round. Now all they had to do was… the exact same thing again, but with someone else. 

Kokichi took his chance to enact his plan, jumping in front of Shuichi who was clearly trying to get to Kaito instead. 

“A-ah! Ouma-kun… hi.” Kokichi noted uncomfortable posture, although Shuichi always seemed uncomfortable. He took a step back. 

“Saihara-chan!” he cheered, hands behind his back. He wished Shuichi didn’t hide those pretty eyes, he always had to angle himself just for a glimpse of them under the brim of his cap. “Go on a date with me!”

Shuichi lifted a hand to his chin. He was thinking it over then, but that was alright, Shuichi had trouble saying no. His plan would still work. “Right now?” he asked.

“Ye-ap!”

“Well, I guess it wouldn’t hurt…” Shuichi gave him a kind smile, “Would you like to go to the-”

“Let’s go to the library!”

“Huh? The library?” Shuichi was now looking down at him, seeming confused, “How come? I thought you would prefer something like the game room or the AV room.”

‘Because it’s not about me, silly.’ Kokichi’s smile was too innocent to ignore, “Wow wow, how cruel, does my beloved Saihara-chan think I’m too brain dead to enjoy reading?”

“Ah..! That wasn’t what I-”

He grabbed onto the end of Shuichi’s sleeve, “C’mon, to the library! You’re so damn slow, Saihara-chan!”

“Okay, Ouma-kun, I’m coming, just slow down..!”

You know, Kokichi suspected that despite being a detective, Shuichi wasn’t used to things being energetic. And while normally that would mean he’d get annoyed easily at Kokichi’s antics… it also meant that they would tire him out faster too. The rapid talking, the lies that somehow kept tricking Shuichi at first, the bouncing around, the dragging. By the time they’d stepped through the library doors Shuichi already looked ready to go back to his dorm. 

There weren’t many places to sit down in the library, so Shuichi immediately went for the table on the left of the entrance. Kokichi redirected him to the back right corner instead, tucking themselves down on the floor and leaning back against the bookshelves. 

“Ah… is there any reason we’re sitting on the floor?” he seemed genuinely curious, not upset.

Kokichi’s smile grew sly, “Isn’t it more romantic here?”

Shuichi tugged the brim of his cap down, but Kokichi could see his blush through his exposed ear. “M… mm” was all he could get out. 

“Do you have any recommendations, Saihara-chan? You must know some good mysteries after all, Mr. Detective.”

Shuichi was looking down at his hands, which were placed in his lap. But Kokichi could tell he wasn’t disinterested, just awkward. “Not really… I used to enjoy mystery novels quite a lot but… after becoming a detective, I stopped reading them.”

“Ooooh, got too boring for an experienced veteran then?”

“Uhm… not exactly…” So Shuichi didn’t like being a detective, then. Kokichi made a mental note of that. 

“But,” Shuichi continued, “Back at home, we really only owned mystery novels. So unless I was at the library I would read them out of boredom.”

“Hmmm, so you’re the type to finish a book even if it sucks.”

“Haha, well, you should give it a good chance, right?”

“If a book sucks, it sucks.”

Shuichi’s laugh was gentle, yet overpoweringly sweet. 

“So you’re a huuuuge geek then, have you read any books here yet?”

Shuichi shook his head, gesturing to the impressive mess around them, “It’s too much to search through… and everything is so disorganized. I haven’t really gotten a chance to try and choose.” So he was the type to become indecisive with a lot of options, then. 

“Plus,” He picked a book up from the pile just sitting next to them, and flipped open to a random page. He turned the book to Kokichi, revealing strange organic patterns cut away into the pages of the book; they seemed to run deep too. Not to mention the crusty yellowness to them that left the pages crunchy and wrinkly. The words that weren’t cut out of the book from the holes were faded, smeared, and difficult to read. There was a musty, moldy smell that hit Kokichi’s face as it wafted off the book, likely coming from the strange spots clinging to the cover and edges of the book. “These books have been left here for a long time, they’re waterlogged from mold and moisture, and have bad damage from insects eating the pages. So they’re essentially unreadable.”

Kokichi stuck his tongue out in disgust, imagining gross bugs crawling inside the books near them. It would sure make Gonta happy, though.

“Well, luckily for you, not all the books are damaged!”

Shuichi’s intrigue was instant, enough so that he didn’t hide his eyes as well as he normally does. “Really?”

“Look at what I found!” Kokichi pulled out two books from the shelf, he’d put them there earlier just for this moment. “Maybe I just have Ultimate Luck, I stumbled on these completely by accident. Ah, but, that’s a lie.”

Shuichi took the book from his hands, turning through the pages with a careful hand. Making sure it really was readable, “This is incredible, Ouma-kun! How did you find this?”

“I had to kill Kiiboy for it, just so Monokuma would owe me a favor for the entertainment! It was brutal too. Lots of sparks.”

“That’s… a lie, right?”

“Who knows~”

Once Kokichi noticed Shuichi’s eyes were scanning the pages of the book he fell into silence. Kokichi sagged down further against the bookcase, arm just barely brushing against Shuichi’s. He opened his own book, but truth be told that was just a lie. He didn’t read a single page, instead he just occasionally turned one so that Shuichi would think he was enjoying their little reading circle. Kokichi’s plan was good. Genius even. He deserved every right to brag. The library was the perfect place to get Shuichi’s guard down. Around the others, things were a constant flurry of chaos. But here it was quiet, peaceful, and smelled like old books. Top that off with making him read the most boring, uneventful book he could find? Shuichi was a goner. 

Kokichi flipped another page in his book, but his eyes were focused on Shuichi’s. Shuichi’s face was alert, but underneath his eyes were dark circles that looked honestly draining. No wonder he was so tired he fantasized about rest. Kokichi wondered if something made it difficult for him to fall asleep. A restless sleeper? A ghost in his dreams? A painful past? Maybe Kokichi was just projecting, maybe he was just having trouble adjusting to their new day to day schedule. Well, here in the library by Kokichi’s side it seemed to be easier to sleep. Because after a while his eyes became sleepier and sleepier. Kokichi shifted himself so that he was leaning further against Shuichi’s arm. Shuichi, too tired to be embarrassed or think it through, dropped his head down to rest on Kokichi. Before long he stopped turning pages, then his hands loosened around the book, then Kokichi heard the relaxed breaths of someone finally getting some well deserved rest. 

“You’re too easy, Saihara-chan.” he whispered. 

Soon Kokichi would get up and ask Gonta to carry Shuichi to his bed. Then he would make sure he was comfortable, and that no one would interrupt his rest. But until then… it didn’t hurt to enjoy this moment.

[ahkaraii]

tov drabble (1618 words)

“Good fight,” Don Whitehorse compliments. “Not good enough, though.”

Schwann knows when he’s lost. He resorts to a cool, helpless apathy in these moments: a trait characteristic to him since birth.

“Then kill me,” he says without inflection.

“You won’t beg for your life?” Don asks.

“I am already dead,” he says. “There is nothing to beg for.”

“Huh. Interesting.” Don then shrugs his massive shoulders, like saying, ‘what can you do?’. “Aw’right then. Hey! Boys! Give this kid a good Altoskian welcome, and escort him to a cell, will ya?”

Altoskian hospitality is not unlike the Empire’s, Schwann reflects. They knock him around, piss in his water bowl, and don’t give him any toilet paper to wipe his face or his ass during the whole damn stay. Then again, an assassination attempt against his Imperial Majesty would easily warrant a public beheading — here, it seems to equate with seven days of enforced meditation toe-deep in his own shit before being kicked to the curb like nothing ever happened.

“You’re letting me go?” Schwann asks, a faint tone of disbelief in his voice.

“You’re not the first to try to off the Boss, y’know,” the guard explains, “and you won’t be the last. It’s almost a right of passage at this point.”

Schwann must reevaluate the guild’s hierarchy. His intel was clearly missing some rather important information. “Did you also try to kill Don Whitehorse?” he asks, not even meaning it sarcastically.

“Sure,” the guard admits, like it’s nothing. “Though I tried to poison him, myself. Gave the Don a case of the runs and he put a bucket of it in my cell and that was enough to make me not try again.”

Schwann’s just spent a week stewing in his own filth and understands what a powerful motivator the stench of unceasing fecal matter and lack of hygiene can be to a man who once thought himself as dignified. “Huh,” is all he offers. Is that how Don Whitehorse inspires loyalty? By sparing his foes in such a contrived way?

“Now, I’d close my eyes if I were you. Ready? Splash!”

After Schwann’s been waterboarded into smelling a little less like a sewer, the guard escorts him out the door and onto the cobbled street some ways from the headquarter’s main entrance.

“That’s it?” Schwann repeats, still not quite believing it.

“That’s it,” the guard says. “Though if I were you, I’d get a proper wash and new duds. You fucking reek.”

A bed and shower at the inn requires gald he no longer has. And even the filthiest tavern won’t let him in wearing the shit-smelling rags he’s got tattered on by a thread. He’s tired, he’s hungry, and he’s really five seconds away from giving up and taking a nap right there in the street. Where even is he, anyway? Dahngrest is a fucking labyrinth with far too many dead ends.

“You need quick cash, son? I’ll pay you to suck my dick,” a strange man with a caved in nose offers in one such dead-end alley, idly smoking a pipe.

Schwann considers it for all of three seconds before he smoothly says, “I must decline,” and walks off in the opposite direction as fast as his tired calves will take him. It’s barely been a week and he will not fall to prostitution just to get a fucking bath. That guy probably had syphilis, anyway.

“Hey! New guy!”

Schwann would’ve started walking even faster if the pitch of the voice hadn’t distracted him — it belongs to a kid, prepubescently high, gender difficult to tell with the patchwork quilt of nonsense they’ve got on.

“Take this package to Saggitarus,” the kid says, and hurls something at him that Schwann catches out of reflex.

“What?” he asks, but the kid’s already disappeared. Fast little bugger—either that, or great at climbing walls. “What...?” he repeats, staring at the innocuous brown-paper-wrapped box in his hands. It’s about the weight of his pauldron, some two kilograms dense, and rattles like there’s something round inside it. A blastia, perhaps?

“Saggitarus,” he echoes. The tavern?

Is this a test?

Is the Don testing him?

For a moment, Schwann expands his senses, wondering if he’s being followed. He can immediately feel eyes on him, and detect the sounds of muffled laughter in the distance. Then again, that might just be paranoia. He has just spent seven days with no privacy and bored guards idly betting on when he’ll get thirsty enough to drink the piss-bucket. (Shamefully, he only got to two before he succumbed.)

If there’s a blastia in here, maybe he can sell it, or, hell, use it. If Schwann’s already presumed dead and his dignity gone with it, then maybe--

The thought crosses his mind and leaves it without much fanfare. There is a task he has been given, and he shall complete it. “Saggitarus,” he repeats, and twists his ankles in the direction of the last tavern he’d been to. Maybe he can ask for directions there.

“Saggitarus tavern? Heh...y'mean the Sagittarius Tavern? It’s that way, new guy,” says the bouncer stationed outside.

Hm. Does everyone know his task, then?

“Sagittarius, huh? It’s southeast,” another man offers, “follow the music.”

It’s starting to feel like a wild goose chase, and everyone’s in on it. There is no music but distant laughter.

“Naw, new guy, it’s north! Y’know, by the fountain? Surely you passed it already.”

On and on and on, each new direction being interrupted by some new person with eyes on his package and cruelty in their smiles. It’s clear they’re all in on it, and he’s the butt of the joke.

“You’re all fucking with me,” Schwann says monotonously. He’s really quite tired. Honestly, he doesn’t really need a weapon to kill things. If he goes outside the barrier, maybe he could just rip a couple of stray Filifolia monsters into lettuce for a salad and then sell the rest of it for gald enough to pay for hay to rest with the horses…

The thought tantalises him for three seconds before he focuses back to reality. Don Whitehorse has probably already forgotten him. His underlings are the cats playing with the new toy the Don has given them. He’s nothing but fresh meat quickly spoiling.

“You finally give up, new guy?”

It’s the kid who gave him the package. Schwann eyes them more carefully this time. Blond, grey-eyed, and oddly confident in their stance. For being such a pipsqueak, this kid has balls to poke an enemy of the Don while he’s down. Schwann’s dead tired and still quite capable of snapping the kid’s neck like he would a chicken.

“What happens if I say yes?” Schwann asks, lightly.

“I take the package back,” the kid says, and stretches out a small hand riddled with weapon-born calluses. “Hand it over, then.”

“Hm,” Schwann makes as if he’s thinking, and a part of him feels silly but delighted when the brat begins to look visibly impatient. Is this kid the one in charge of his punishment…? “I think not, then.”

“Ugh,” the kid says. “Then hurry up and make it!”

Schwann bows his head like he would to Princess Estellise. “Of course, young Master,” he says, and is rewarded by the kid looking proper startled. Bingo. “I’m afraid I am quite lost, though. Why don’t we both help each other and you get me there, for real this time? That way we can both finally take a break.”

The kid squints at him and then gives an explosive sigh and turns around and starts walking. Schwann follows them leisurely. They walk down faintly familiar streets and end up at the tavern right where Schwann started. The bouncer outside looks just as amused as he did the first time.

“Ah, I see now. Saggitarus is your name, isn’t it?” Schwann says, managing a sardonic smile.

“At your service,” the guy says, and stretches out his hand. “Did you ever find the Sagittarius tavern, then?”

“Your directions were one of a kind, but my sense of direction is quite another.” Schwann plops the brown box unceremoniously into the guy’s outstretched palm. “Here’s your package, Mister Saggitarus.”

“Here’s your payment, Mister New Guy,” Saggitarius says, and flicks him a single gald coin.

“Thanks,” Schwann says without a trace of sarcasm, and turns to the kid. “Y’know where a tired old man could get a bucket of clean water for a single gald?”

“Uh, try the fountain,” the kid says. “Duh.”

“Duh,” Schwann echoes, and can’t help but laugh a little. Duh, indeed. Children above, he’s so tired.

“Hey. New Guy. I’ll throw you enough for a meal if you give Pecan this package,” Saggitarus offers, clearly taking pity on him. “Pecan’s the third waiter on the right at the Sagittarius tavern. You know your way there now, right?”

Schwann’s everything aches, but he’s starting to get the hang of this place now, he thinks. “Sure,” he says. “Throw in an old tunic and I’ll deliver it as fast as these old legs can take me.”

“Do it without causing a ruckus and I’ll give you some new shoes, too,” Saggitarius says.

“You got yourself a deal,” Schwann says, and points his feet towards his goal. He can’t wait to feel a little cleaner and rest enough to regroup and decide his next course of action; if he doesn’t send an encoded message to Zaphias soon, Commandant Alexei’ll probably assume him dead or, worse, a traitor. Till then, it’s nice to have a mission with clear cut instructions.

“Third waiter from the right,” Schwann murmurs to himself, and sets off.

[versegm]

Holy Grail War where Guda is their summoner's weird back-alley encounter one night, then ghosts them for two days straight without an explanation and then seamlessly sets themselves up in the next-door apartment. They never explain what a holy grail is, and they're human-passing if they take sufficient precautions, and five months in it's just them and one enemy servant left. Guda goes drinking with them every Tuesday.

The first time you meet your new neighbor, you almost have a heart attack.

“Ma’am! Do you need any help with that?”

Face mask, sunglasses, leather gloves. They stand hover above you, and it dawns on you that you’re about to get mugged.

“No, no, it’s fine.” You steel your spine and straighten your back- and immediately wince. Old age has not been kind to you. “I’m fine. Really.”

The youth chuckles- they sound genuinely amused. Since you can barely see their face at all, you can’t read any of their emotions. It’s unnerving. “Don’t be silly, ma’am.” They take hold of the heaviest of your grocery bags. “Where do you live? I’ll walk you there.”

And you can’t really do anything but agree, can you? Ah, it has been a good life, at least. You suppose there are worse ways to go than...

... actually guided home by a yakuza? Who bids you goodbye and just leaves?

... Wait, they were being honest with the offer to help?

*

The youth, you learn quickly (for there is no better intel than old lady gossip) goes by Ritsuka Fujimaru, is probably not part of any yakuza group, and works part-time at the okonomiyaki place down the street.

Their apartment is also two rooms away from yours, which is why you keep running into them.

“Ma’am!” They wave at you excitedly. Their face is still covered. Apparently, they’re just that allergic to showing any important patch of skin. “You shouldn’t stay around these parts, ma’am. Haven’t you heard? A pipeline exploded yesterday.”

Huh, really? There has been a lot of these kind of accidents lately. You didn’t know another one exploded in the area.

This city really needs to get it together. You remember another serie of accidents like this when you were a kid. You’d think in sixty years infrastructure would get better.

“Ma’am! Ah, it’s good to see you sticking to safe paths.”

“Ma’am! Ah, you really ought to check the news! The next street is closed up! It shouldn’t last long, but better safe than sorry, right?”

“Ma’am! Let’s walk home together! I just finished my shift. Are you coming back from the market?”

“Ma’am! This looks heavy, do you need help? Oh, this is new! How do you cook that?”

*

One day, you go out, and you don’t see them. You don’t bat an eye.

The next day, they’re still not here. It’s not the first time that happens.

The next day, still no Fujimaru. Now this is a little weird.

The next day, they’re still absent. You’re getting worried.

“They’re on sick leave.” The okonomiyaki place tells you. “They should be back by tomorrow.”

Sick?

You frown. They’re a weird folk, but you’ve grown to like the youngster. Do they even know how to take care of themself? You remember when you were just getting started into adulthood and boy that wasn’t pretty.

So, you walk determinedly to the youth’s apartment, and knock.

At first there is silence. Then a ruffled sound. Then, a voice. “One moment!”

So you wait.

... quite some time.

After what seems like an eternity, but most likely was only a minute, the door opens up. “Hi ma’am! What brings you here?” And you can’t help but flinch.

They look the same as usual. Sunglasses, face mask, and gloves. The same, no sicker, no healthier.

Three scars like slashes come across their right eye.

They have a sheepish laugh. “Ah, sorry. I didn’t have time to put on my make-up.”

Make-up? To cover the scars?

You look them over. Sunglasses, face mask, gloves. At first you’d assumed they were some kind of delinquent. At first you’d assumed they didn’t want to be recognized.

Ah, sorry. I didn’t have time to put on my make-up.

Ah.

You think you understand now.

“... Would you like to have dinner with me?” Originally, you wanted to bring them some chicken soup and be done with it, but what little of their apartment you can see behind them seems... unfit to host people. You wonder how they manage to live in it. It’s just... so full. Toys and tools and papers as if they could barely focus on one task at once. Where did they even fit their bed?

“Ah.” They click their tongue. “That’s very nice, ma’am, but I don’t think-”

“I’ll look the other way while you eat.” You say. “If you really don’t want me to see your face.”

They stay silent. For a few seconds, you can’t even hear them breathe.

“...Okay.”

*

It starts with chicken soup on a sick day. Then it turns into a small chat every two week. Then a meal every week. 

After two months, you’ve gotten into the habit of hosting Fujimaru over twice a week.

They’re comfortable enough to remove their sunglasses when you’re the only one here, now. One of their eye is blank. The other one rarely ever focuses on you when you speak to them.

Weirdly enough, their eye is about the least interesting thing about Fujimaru.

"And there! That’s how you make mocassins.” They’re beaming. You can’t see their mouth, but you’re sure they’re smiling. “Friend of mine taught me how to make these.”

“You seem to have a lot of odd friends.” 

“Oh, definitely. But that’s just how life is, y’know?”

Somehow, you get the feeling that their life isn’t exactly what you’d call “average.”

*

It takes another month for them to take off the face mask.

... Huh.

“Hyperdontia.” That’s the only explanation they give you. You don’t press them. Not about their teeth, not about their eye, not about their soot-like skin under their gloves. From what you’ve seen, it’s a miracle that Fujimaru ended up somewhat functional despite whatever stacked that many scars on them.

“Say, ma’am,” they ask between two bites of food, “if you could have any wish fulfilled, what would you want?”

“A wish?” You raise an eyebrow. “I’m a little old to believe in genies, don’t you think?”

“Humor me.” They set their chin on their palm. “Any wish at all. What would you wish for?”

Any wish...

A few months back, you’d probably have answered ‘a friend,’ or something cheesy like that. Life can be... lonely, when one is as old as you, with no kid or nephew to speak of.

But now, well...

“... no, I can’t think of anything. I’m good.”

They blink. Evidently, they were not expecting that answer.

“... You’re a good person, you know that?”

Their teeth are long and sharp. Somehow, it doesn’t stop their smile from being incredibly sweet.

*

Fujimaru has a friend.

Well, multiple, obviously. Fujimaru looks kind of scary at first, but give them the occasion to chat you up, and they will not let you leave unfriended. But what you mean by that is that Fujimaru has a friend.

“I saw Caster the other day!” They always look giddy talking about Caster. You’re hesitant to call it puppy love, but evidently, this person means a lot to them. 

Here’s what you know about Caster:

- They act like an old man

- They look young enough that Fujimaru has to be the one to buy alcohol when they hang out

- They’ve got Opinion on writing

“So, you write too, Fujimaru?” You ask, after the third time they retell you about some writing discourse or another.

“Mh? Oh, yeah. sometimes.” They rub the back of their neck. “Well, not really. There’s just this one thing I’ve been writing over and over again, so.”

(They do that a lot. Repetitive things, you mean. Sometimes, they repeat something they’ve just told you. Sometimes, they do the same action twice, thrice in a row, as if they’d forgotten they’d already done it.)

(The scars on their face looks deep. You think they might have some mild brain damage, but again, this isn’t your place to ask.)

“What is it about?” You ask, because you’re genuinely interested.

They look down, and seem suddenly very interested in scratching the underneath of their nails.

“... It’s a little silly.” They finally say. “I had this friend, you see.”

You nod. Do go on. For all the time you’ve spent with Fujimaru, you know surprisingly little about their past.

“He was great. Incredible! He knew so much. And he was kind! And resourceful. He could always get someone out of a bind even when himself had next to nothing to work with. I owe him a lot.”

“He sounds pretty great.”

They nod excitedly. “That’s who I’m writing about. My friend.” They pause, for a second, as if unsure if they should continue. When they speak again, their voice is a little lower, as if telling a secret.

“There is power in stories, you know? If it’s written down, then it’s real. In a way. Not real real. But real in a way that matters. Once a story is weaved, you can’t unmake it. Even if no one knows of it. Even if it gets burned down afterwards. There is power in stories.”

It’s a good thing that they don’t ask you if you’ve understood, because you certainly hadn’t. But they go on.

“That’s what I’m writing about. My friend. I’m writing a story about him. Some meaningless slice of life thing. A regular day at work. Getting coffee in the morning. Saying hi to his daughter. Feeling the wind on his face. That’s what I’m writing. Normal life stuff.”

They tilt their head back, look at your roof.

“... It’s the least I can give to him. It’s the only thing I can give to him. A story in which he lives.”

*

It’s been six months since you’ve met Fujimaru, when they ask you with the utmost seriousness: “Do you believe in lucky charms?”

“As much as the next person.” You shrug. It’s very much a maybe maybe not to you. You don’t care all that much.

“Okay. That’s good.” Fujimaru smiles. It’s weird, how used you’ve become to these teeth. How comforting the sight of scars can become. “See, there’s this one lucky charm I wanted to give you. Something of a spell if you ever need me and I’m not here.”

? Well, why not. It wouldn’t be the strangest of Fujimaru’s quirks.

“Okay, listen up. Don’t repeat what I’m going to say. You can only say it one day where you really mean it, okay?” They lean towards you and cup their hands around your ear. Their breath is almost anormaly warm. “It goes something like this. By the power of my Command Spell, I ask of you...”

[takadasaiko]

Love Me Twice: Chapter Eleven

FFN II AO3

Summary: When Tom's search for Ilya continues to run into dead ends, Liz takes matters into her own hands.

Chapter Eleven

It had been three days since they had parted ways. Nearly twenty-four hours into the first day she had finally worked up the courage to try the number he'd left for her. It was silly to think he'd give her a fake number. There was no point in it, but every night since she had walked into that warehouse to find him strung up by his wrists with Tolliver's man beating the hell out of him, Liz had wondered if maybe she had finally cracked. If her mind was so tired of fighting it all alone that it had worked up a way to convince her she didn't have to. If the man that had shown up at her door drenched from the rain was nothing more than a ghost. The longer that she went without seeing him or speaking to him, the more the irrational fear crept in.

Tom had answered though. He'd been distracted and a little snippy - clear signs that he was deep into whatever he was doing - but he had answered. They hadn't spoken long, but the sound of his voice had helped to ease some of those darker fears back into the shadows. She slept that night. Not well, but at least she slept.

Liz tried to focus on her own case. The situation with Petrov was worse than they'd thought. Reddington believed that he was linked to the Cabal as well as the KGB. He was tight-lipped about the details, but whatever he'd told Cooper was enough to convince their boss that it should be top priority. He wasn't saying that who Tolliver was or what had happened to Tom's memories weren't important questions to ask, nor was he telling them to drop the research into the Sikorsky Archive, but national security came first, and when the Cabal was involved they all knew how dangerous life could get.

"I think Tolliver can be useful."

She could almost feel Ressler swivel to give her the have-you-lost-it look. "She's not who you thought she was."

"So? Neither was Reddington and he's pretty damn useful most days."

"You're not playing Reddington," Park stated and Ressler turned the quirked eyebrow on her. He was going to get stuck that way if he wasn't careful. Park held her hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, but there's a difference in not telling him everything and letting Tolliver think she still has you fooled."

"She lied first," Liz argued.

"I'm not saying it's wrong, I'm just saying it's dangerous. I mean, I may not have been here nearly as long as the two of you, but I know the name Katarina Rostova. I knew the kind of stuff that they say she was responsible for. If Tolliver is Rostova, but isn't your mom, then you're playing with fire."

"Just another day in the life," Liz sighed. "She knows about this man though. More than Cooper does and more than Reddington will admit to. I'm in her confidence, and if I read her further into this -"

"You may end up jeopardizing the case," Ressler pointed out.

"You think she's Cabal?"

"I think we don't know what she is," Ressler grumbled as he took a heavy seat into a chair at an unoccupied desk in the War Room where they'd gathered around. "Park's got a point."

"Thank you." She turned to look directly at Liz, the levity of her tone sliding out of her expression. "I'm just saying, maybe you shouldn't go alone."

"She doesn't know either of you. I'm not sure I want her to."

"So take your husband," Park offered with a shrug. "She knows his face, knows his connection, and he's less of a threat legally."

"It would make it easier to explain," Ressler agreed, almost like he hated admitting it.

Liz sighed. "He's tracking down Ilya."

Ressler pushed a frustrated sounding breath out through his nose. "It'd give you an excuse, Keen. Call him."

She looked over to find both partners staring at her expectantly. "I can't. I promised him that I'd help him get his memories back, but Orchard hasn't even called me back. I can't leave her another message, but if I ask Tom to help me with another thing that has nothing to do with that…."

"He'll do it," Aram said from his place a desk over, not bothering to look up from his screen. Well, obviously he wasn't funneling music through his earbuds like he looked like he was. Finally he turned to look at her, and Liz couldn't help but see some of the heartbreak behind the mask he was trying to wear, and while part of it had to do with the whole Elodie debacle, she'd put money that Elodie wasn't the one at the forefront of his mind right then. "He loves you. Any idiot can see it, even without his memories. He can't stop looking at you when you look away and he just…. He'll do it if you ask."

"Do you trust him?"

Liz turned back to Ressler. "You know I do."

"Then if we can't be there, have some backup you trust. Play it smart."

She looked between the three of them for a long moment, at war with herself. She shouldn't be though. She knew she shouldn't be. They were right. She reached for the phone and hit the speed dial.

  -------

He didn't like it. It wasn't the fact that Liz had called. Strange as it was, he lit up every time he received a message from her. It was like a weight he hadn't realized was pressing down on him was lifted and he could breathe again. Her voice soothed him. It cleared his head. It was funny. He'd always thought love was a lie that people told each other to keep some weird hope alive that it was true. They'd describe it and someone else would say that that was exactly how they felt, and somehow the lie would keep going a little while longer. Maybe it wasn't all a lie, though, because while Jacob couldn't remember this woman, she stirred up the strangest feelings in him that he wasn't aware he was capable of. Hell, he'd been told he wasn't capable for more years than he could remember.

It wasn't the fact that she'd called that put him on edge, it was why. Tolliver. The woman had found his surveillance far too quickly and they didn't know what kind of reach she had or intel she could have gathered. Before her connection with Liz might have protected them both, but the instant that she knew that Liz knew the truth - that this woman wasn't her mother - their usefulness would dry up and they'd be targets.

There were too many unknowns and they were walking straight into them. He wasn't going to let her do it alone though.

"Usually she has me meet her in some remote location or another," Liz murmured as they entered the highrise office building and started for the elevator. "This is weird."

Jacob shrugged. "Not really. There are a lot of vacant office spaces right now. Play your cards right and no one knows you're there."

She turned, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "You know from experience?"

"I really shouldn't admit that to a fed," he murmured, echoing her smile.

Liz leaned in as the elevator doors closed, her fingers brushing his. On an instinct he couldn't explain he took her hand, their fingers closing around each other. It was a strange feeling that swept through him. One that told him he wasn't alone in this chaos anymore. He didn't want to leave her alone in it either.

The doors opened on an upper level and they took the stairs the rest of the way up to the top level. The door to the floor was locked and Liz knocked a pattern and took a step back to wait. After a long moment the door opened to reveal the man that Liz referred to as Simms on the other side. His distrustful gaze swept Jacob up and down, his lips tilting down at a little as it did. "She told you to come alone."

"He's good." Simms didn't look convinced and Liz squared her shoulders. "She may not know him, but I do. He's my husband. My family. If she trusts me, she trusts him."

Jacob kept his expression even, but he couldn't ignore the strange, fluttering feeling inside his chest. While Tolliver shouldn't trust either of them any more than they trusted her at that moment, he believed the rest of it. He wasn't sure he knew how to be someone's family or to be deserving of the trust she'd already shown in him.

"Let them in, Simms," Tolliver called from inside. "You know that I trust Elizabeth's judgement. She's proven that she's on my side."

There was something eerie about the way she said it, and as they moved further into the open office space where she'd set up her research, the way she looked at them only intensified his initial reaction. It was like there was an unspoken warning at the end of it. No, not a warning. A threat. She knows what will happen if she's not.

"I'm keeping my team away from you," Liz lied, "but I need your help. We're hitting a dead end with the Collector. All we have is the name."

"Petrov," Tolliver confirmed and Liz nodded.

"What do you know about him? Did you ever run across him in the KGB? Connected with the Cabal…?"

Tolliver's eyes narrowed and Jacob resisted the urge to step closer to Liz. "Why do you think he's connected with the Cabal? Something Raymond said?" She tilted her chin up and gave a short, mirthless laugh. "He does know how to pull the FBI's strings, doesn't he? Is that why he's saying he had him killed?"

"I think we both know why he had him killed," Liz said.

Jacob watched Liz as she held the older woman's gaze, and as she spoke he had to admit he was impressed. She was subtle in the way she steered the direction, using information they'd clearly talked about - information the other woman wanted - to get Tolliver where she wanted her to go.

"His secret. Whatever it is… my guess is that it has to do with the Archive. I know you don't trust my team, and I get that, but if you know anything that can help us get out in front of Reddington on this we can use it to find who really stole the intel."

And if Jacob were to put money on it, his bet was that Tolliver bought it. It was the best sign he could have spotted that she wasn't onto them. Nothing had changed for her. It looked like Liz still thought she was helping her mother, even as she was funnelling all of those feelings of betrayal that he'd seen overwhelm her a few days before into the act. Liz was the one in control.

Tolliver's gaze slid over to Jacob. "You've been looking for someone. Who?"

"You following me?"

"You're in my daughter's life and she wants to trust you without any proof that you're still the man she knew. Of course I'm having you followed."

"He's looking for Ilya. For me," Liz stated firmly, drawing the woman's attention back around.

"You said he was gone."

"That doesn't mean we can't find him. If he knows something about the Archive, he could be our best lead." She squared her shoulders a little. "But if you know something, we can use that."

"Petrov helped piece together part of the Archive. He..." Her voice trailed off as one of her people entered the alcove they were standing in and spoke quietly in her ear. "Really? Well then."

Jacob shot Liz a questioning look and she returned it with a small shrug. "What were you saying about Petrov?"

"Petrov will have to wait," Tolliver answered, her expression unreadable. "Someone's continued where you left off, Mr Keen."

He didn't like the sound of that, but Tolliver motioned for them to follow. He looked to Liz who gave the barest of nods. They had to risk it. If they didn't, they would tip their hand.

 -------

Tolliver liked playing things close to the chest, but this didn't feel right. If the look Tom was giving her was anything to go by, he felt the same way. The good thing was that they were in an office building. Presumably there were other tenants that would hear a gunshot or the shouts that would accompany a fight.

Or not.

They followed Tolliver into an adjacent office to see a man bound to a chair. He was beaten and bloodied, but Liz recognized the man that Tom had called Fitz. The man he'd tasked to run Tolliver's DNA. This was not good.

One of Tolliver's men moved to block their exit the way they had come in and Sims reached a hand out for their weapons, his gun trained on Tom.

"Do as he asks, Elizabeth, and you won't make me put you through watching your husband bleed out in front of you all over again," Tolliver said, her voice calm.

"You shoot one of us, someone's going to hear," Tom pointed out.

Tolliver huffed. "Seven full floors below us are empty. So is the building across the way there. No one will see you and no one will hear you, so I would suggest you provide Simms with your weapons and be on your best behaviour." Her gaze remained cold as she watched both of them surrender their guns. "Mr Fitz here provided some very interesting information to my people. He ran my DNA. That much I knew until just a few moments ago when he gave up the name."

"I'm sorry, Jake. It was you or me," Fitz managed from where he was and gave an audible shutter as Tolliver laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Still might be you," Tom growled, his voice low and dangerous.

"Or you," Tolliver answered him. "That really depends on Elizabeth." Her gaze shifted to Liz and the younger woman straightened, tilting her chin up. "I thought we had trust between us. What changed?"

"You used me," Liz said lowly.

"Like you were about to use me. Like Reddington used me. Like she did." Tolliver was calm for all the venom in her voice.

"Your trust has obviously run out. What now? You gonna kill a fed? You think it's bad having the Townsend Directive after you, you'll have the full weight of the FBI and Reddington on top of that if you touch either of us."

"Tom will depend on you, but as for you, you're no good to me dead," Tolliver said thoughtfully. "She'll come for you. I thought I'd need Raymond to lure her out, but she's already setting the board. Not for him. For you. She'll come."

"What are you talking about?" Liz asked, her tone uncertain. "Who?"

Tolliver's response, if they could expect one, was cut short by the sound of something small breaking through the thick, floor-to-wall windows at the far side of the room. Sims crumbled instantly and before Tolliver's other goon could do anything, a second shot took him out, leaving only the Keens, the trembling Fitz, and Tolliver who slowly raised her hands up in surrender.

Tom's cell phone buzzed loudly in his jeans.

"I'd suggest you get that," Tolliver said, her tone more resolved than anything else.

Liz's eyes narrowed and she started for the window to find the holes that had been punched through the glass. Behind her she heard Tom answer, his voice gruff and then surprised as he said, "It's for you," and handed the phone over to Tolliver. Liz saw the reflection behind her, but focused on the general trajectory that the bullets would have had to follow to hit their targets.

"I knew it was you. You're the only one he'd protect. That they'd all protect," Tolliver hissed into the phone and Liz finally saw the figure two stories above their own in the building across the way. She could make out a woman there dressed in all black with her hair either cropped short or pulled back. She was set up with a sniper rifle. If she was the one on the other end of the phone, she must have been on bluetooth.

"And now you're exposed," Tolliver continued. "It doesn't matter if you -"

Liz saw the signal - a flash of a light on top of the rifle - and she lunged away from the window, hitting the ground as the bullet broke through the window at a new angle. She rolled, looking to Tolliver who was standing there. Crimson quickly blossomed across her beige blouse from the wound in her chest and the phone slipped from her fingers. She looked to Liz. "She'll never give you the answers you need."

The second shot struck her again and she fell to the floor, blue eyes wide and unseeing. Liz was on her feet, diving for the dropped phone and somewhere behind her she heard Tom call out her name. No further shots were fired, but when she got to the phone the line was already dead.

Liz knelt there for a long moment next to Tolliver's dead body, phone in hand, and trembling. She squeezed her eyes closed and struggled to breathe. Everything was folding in itself and a single thought broke through:

You missed your chance.

Tolliver was dead. She had had answers and now she was dead.

"Liz?" She jumped as Tom's hand gently touched her arm. "We gotta go. We can't be here when they find the bodies."

She nodded, desperately still trying to get enough breath into her lungs to be useful. "What about…" Her voice trailed off as she looked over to see Fitz. One of the bullets must have passed straight through Tolliver and struck him. He was slumped to the side, still bound to the chair and dead.

"Not our problem anymore," Tom said quietly and pressed her firearm into her hand. "C'mon."

Liz let him help her up. There was nothing to tie them to this. No cameras in the stairwells or the elevator, no one left to point fingers. All that was left were questions. So many questions. They were in the car before Tom loosed a long breath and she noticed his hands were shaking too. "You okay?"

"It was her."

"Who?"

"The voice. On the phone. It was the woman that hired me. Brigitte Tremblay. She killed Tolliver."

 -------

TBC

Notes: And again with the need for dramatic music. It's like I like cliffhangers or something.

Well that was a wild ride, huh? Blonde Kat is gone and the woman that hired Tom to inch him back into Liz's life is responsible. Thoughts? Theories? Concerns for chaos ahead? ;)

Next Time: Tom and Ressler end up on a stakeout with Aram and Tom comes face-to-face with Brigitte Tremblay.

[agressivelyunfancynerd]

Cabin in the Woods (Captain America Fic)

Let me preface this by saying I have never, ever written a fan fiction, or a smut. So please, please be kind! However, if you find any mistakes, or anything, feel free to message me J

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, Penetrative Sex, Unprotected Sex (wrap it please!), Clit Stimulation

Word Count: 3500+ 

Blurb: You’re a hacker who has been with the Avengers for a year, when you discover some seriously dangerous plans that could kill a lot of people, you help Steve assemble the team, only for them to have to leave you and Steve in harm’s way; you find yourselves in a hidden shack, and things get a bit heated.

You were the newest member of the Avenger’s team, although, calling yourself a member might be a stretch, you weren’t a trained assassin, or proficient archer or thunder god or even some rich engineer, you were simply a girl with excellent hacking skills, a big attitude and enough martial arts training to maybe not die in a hand to hand fight. A fight which you would’ve started with your sarcastic mouth.

If someone had told you two years ago you’d be working at the Avenger’s tower, or going out on missions with Captain America – your biggest crush since high school – and his team, you would have laughed in their face.

And yet here you were, sitting in the lounge room of the tower, tapping away on your laptop. It was late afternoon and the sun was blasting through the windows.

“Hey y/n, new intel just came in, it’s encrypted, think you can hack it?” Steve asked, although you hadn’t heard him come in.

“That hurts Rogers… Underestimating my ability to hack things not meant to be hacked, I’m offended” you winked at him. He smiled.

You held your hand out for the flash drive. He padded over to the couch where you were sitting cross legged and put the device in your hand, his fingers brushing against your skin, causing you to shiver. He turned and started to walk to the door, you watched.

You hated to see him go, but boy did you love to watch him leave. He turned to say something, catching you starring at his bum. Embarrassed you went back to typing away on your laptop.

Your cheeks started to burn hot, you were blushing at being caught ogling Captain America.

You had been with the team just over a year now, and in that time, you had made an idiot of yourself in front of Steve at least once a day, every day of the week.

Bucky knew you had a crush on Steve; your bedrooms shared a wall and he heard you touching yourself one night pretending it was Steve. He poked fun at you the next day, until you felt like you were going to combust, due to the heat in your cheeks; but he vowed never to tell a soul, and from then on you became good friends, he was your confidante, sparring partner, and horror movie marathon partner, and you became his tutor in all things 21st century.

But from the day Bucky found out about the crush you had gone out of your way to avoid Steve, in the hopes that your silly crush would subside and fizzle out. Sometimes you thought it was going well, you’d not see him in a week, you’d stop thinking about him every second of the day, but then bam, literally bam, you’d turn a corner and run into him. You’d touch him, he’d touch you and the crush would reignite.

This always ended in you sitting on Bucky’s bed late at night talking, and him laughing at how ‘cute’ you were. And then you’d punch his flesh arm and leave.

***

As the hours ticked by you became more and more invested in the files on the drive. If someone was trying this hard to protect and hide what was on here, it must have been important.

“Hey Y/N, I’m about to make some garbage eggs, you want some?” Wanda asked walking into the small kitchen just off the lounge.

“Hmm, what, no thanks,” you replied not even stopping typing or looking up.

“Wait, garbage eggs?” when you finally registered what Wanda had said you looked over the top of your laptop at her.

“Yeah, it’s basically when you get the entire contents of your fridge, whatever leftovers are still alright and you turn it into scrambled eggs or an omelette. Pietro used to make it for us.” She got a faraway look for a split second, before turning back to you and waiting for you answer.

“Sounds… interesting. But again, I’ll pass. Thanks though.”

Wanda cooked up her garbage eggs and left.

Bucky came in a few hours later, straight from the gym, he shot you a goofy smile before grabbing some fruit from the bowl on the counter and leaving. Bruce and Tony came in not long after that, made coffee and left, not once acknowledging your existence, or if they did you didn’t acknowledge them.

And you can’t be sure, but you thought Nat came in, but she’s so stealthy you and you were tired, you might’ve imagined it. More hours ticked over, your body was getting sore, you stomach was growling and you were starting to get annoyed.

***

Ten and a half hours…

That’s how long it had taken you to finally crack the data on the flash drive Steve had given you; it was a tough security system, encryption and fire wall, you were actually impressed. You’d be more impressed if the information wasn’t highly classified and extremely dangerous; as you skimmed the files on the drive, only registering the important words your heart started to beat in your ears, you had to tell the Avengers now. This could mean the end of the world.

Without thinking, or looking at the time, you leapt off the couch, laptop in your arms and started down the hallway to Steve’s room, since he was the leader, it made sense to tell him first. You knocked on his door, and when he didn’t answer you turned to go look for him, not realising how late it was.

“Y/N, what’s the matter?” He had opened his bedroom door, sleep still grasping at the edge of eyes; he was wearing a thin pair of cotton briefs and nothing else. He looked alarmed.

You stuttered, unable to form a coherent thought.

“I, umm, uhh…” you kept trying to look just at his face but your eyes kept wandering. He stepped out of his room and you backed up, hitting the wall.

“It’s two o’clock in the morning Y/N, what is it?” His concerned tone knocked you out of your daze.

“I cracked the encryption on the flash drive, I only just finished viewing the files, you need to see this”, you pushed past him, into his room – you were in Steve’s room – put your laptop on his desk, bent down and opened some of the files. You felt him approach, standing mere inches from you, the heat radiating from his body, the heat radiating between your thighs; as he read over your shoulder.  

Gooseflesh worked its way up your arms and across the back of your neck. There was a dull throb between your legs. You couldn’t think of anything else while he was this close. If you were a more confident person, or sure he felt the same way for you, and the circumstances were different you might’ve turned around and just kissed him, hard and fast, but you weren’t confident, and the circumstances weren’t different, so you closed your eyes and tried to breath.

“That’s great work Y/N, but uh, what does all this mean?” Steve straightened up, folding his arms across his chest and waited for you to explain.

“The cheat sheet version?” You asked, taking a small step away from him.

“Please” He half smiled, still sleepy.

You broke into a tirade, explaining the files, what you had found, what the potential outcomes could be, what the best and worst case scenarios could be and what the next step would be. You showed Steve the diagrams of weapons, bombs and other things you had found on the files, even that you had found more hidden files under deeper encryption.

“Christ,” Steve muttered. You turned back to your laptop, closing the lid and picking it up, creating a barrier between you and Steve. He turned away, grabbed a pair of long pants and pulled them on, and grabbed a baggy white tee, before grabbing your hand and leaving his room.

“We have to tell the others, form a plan, and stop this, before it begins” he said pushing you towards the elevators. “You get to the debriefing room, start making a file, I’ll get the others.”

***

You were sitting in the back of the Quinjet – you hated flying, absolutely detested it in fact. You had a fear of heights, and death.

You were bouncing your knee up and down and tapping your fingers on your leg as if it was your laptop keyboard.

You don’t really know why the Avengers were bringing you, you programmed a flash drive to reverse the process of the encryption, erase all the data and then blow up; so all they had to do was put it into the computer drive, run away and presto, it would work.

You explained all this only an hour ago to Steve, and he had taken the flash drive from you, pocketed it and then told you it was Plan B.

“So what’s plan A?” you asked.

“You’re coming with us; you’re going to copy all the data before blowing the system up, manually.” He said.

You were flattered that the Avengers had needed you… But now, sitting in the Quinjet, you hated yourself for being so good with computers.

“Nervous?” Steve asked taking the seat next to you.

“A little” you swallowed, looking around the jet, trying to get your mind off the fact you were just about shitting yourself, and the fact Steve was so close to you.

Clint and Nat were in the cock pit, Bruce and Tony were towards the back, talking science, or something else you didn’t understand. Sam, Vision and Wanda were all standing around talking to each other. And Bucky was brooding in the corner, his eyes closed.

“You know, it’s just like being in a bus” Steve said smirking at you.

“Yeah, except buses don’t usually unexpectedly fall from the sky, nor do they often get shot at.”

“Huh, I must be taking the wrong buses” Steve smirked. You tried to smile.

The jet lurched, making you dig your nails into your legs and squeeze your eyes shut. Nat announced over the comms that it was just that we had gone through some storm clouds, and no, before Tony asked, it wasn’t Thor. He was still off planet.

A big warm hand encased yours, touching your thigh.

“It’ll be okay; I won’t let anything bad happen to you,” Steve whispered next to you, “you can open your eyes.” You could feel the blush creeping into your cheeks.

You started to open your eyes, as Nat announced we were starting the decent on the base, and before you could say anything Steve was on his feet and standing behind Nat and Clint. His hand left a warm feeling on your thigh. You took a deep breath and tried to steel yourself for what was coming.

***

A bomb exploded to your right, Steve was barking orders in the comms and you heard Hulk growl before what sounded like metal being torn apart. You were bent over the computer, tapping as fast as your fingers could allow, but it wasn’t quick enough.

There was no Intel to tell you that this base was so heavily manned, but from the minute you touched down it was a flurry of bullets and yelling and explosions.

Glass shattered above you and rained down.

“I’ve got to go help Clint, stay right here. Right. Here!” Steve barked before taking off and jumping out the window. You continued to tap away on the keys, but every time you got through a fire wall another one popped up. This was far more superior to the flash drive Steve had given you.

What felt like an eternity later you had cracked the final fire wall.

“Boom bitch!” you yelled at the computer. You started the copying process; it was copying directly to the Quinjet mainframe. You heard footsteps behind you.

“I got it Steve, we’re in,” when he didn’t answer you turned, only to be smacked across the head with the butt of a rifle. You fell to the floor hitting your elbow and shoulder hard on the tiles.

You managed to roll over just as the man in a black stealth suit slammed the rifle down at your head again. You kicked him and stumbled up. You were dizzy and currently seeing three of him. You raised your arms in your guard defence, just as he launched, you T stepped, and slammed the palm of your hand into the man’s face before bringing an elbow up under his chin; just your Kung Fu instructor had shown you – thank god for deciding to get into shape – he stumbled away, losing his gun, then he lurched and kicked you in the guts, you folded in half and fell.

The man retrieved his gun, and aimed it right at your face, your heart was pounding, your vision was blurry and unconsciousness tugging at you. BANG.

You flinched, and saw the man crumple, he fell towards you and you rolled to the left. Steve came running over to you.

“Y/N, it’s okay, I got you” he helped you up, a hand wrapped around your back and waist and he put your other hand over his shoulder.

“Computer” you croaked. He headed towards the console. You let go of Steve and watched as the files finished copying to the Quinjet.

Another explosion rattled the remainder of the building; Steve started yelling in his comms. You looked up and saw the Quinjet taking off.

“Uh Steve,” you stammered.

“I know Y/N, I told them to go, they can’t hold down the forces, get us back and save the files. They’re going to get the Intel to the government, and then they’re coming straight back for us,” you must of looked at him in horror, because he grabbed your face, “I promise”. You nodded.

“But we have to find somewhere to lay low, until they can get to us, come on.” He grabbed your waist and you started out, slow and steady.

***

It was dark now, you could barely see anything. Your head was pounding, you’d tripped maybe twenty times since getting away from the compound, if it wasn’t for Steve you would’ve fallen face first in the dirt and probably would’ve just stayed there until they found you.

“Here,” Steve picked up the pace, basically carrying you, towards this little shack in the middle of nowhere. He kicked in the door, placed you against the wall before doing a once through making sure there was no danger. He boarded up a few windows, found some old musty sheets and hung them in the windows, before lighting a fire.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, lightly touching your head.

“Like a crazy ninja in a black leotard smacked me with a rifle… Oh wait, he did.” You deadpanned.

“You got a real attitude Y/N, you know that?” Steve said before going in search of a medical kit. When he came back you were leaning against the wooden table, in what you assumed used to be the dining room.

Without asking, Steve grabbed your hips and hoisted you up onto the table, he stood between your legs and put the medical kit beside you. Without speaking Steve bought a damp cloth to your forehead, he started cleaning up the dried blood and the wound on your head. You couldn’t do anything but breathe and try not to stare. He tendered to your wounds for a few minutes, before putting some gauze on it. He turned to close the medical kit up.

Without thinking your hands went to his hips. He took a deep breath and stilled.

“What?” you asked when you had noticed he had stopped. You looked up at his eyes, his stare was so intense. So blue. You had never noticed before, but being this close to him, you could see the flecks of amber in his irises.

“You’re injured, you hit your head, and you’re not thinking straight, I don’t want to take advantage.” He whispered, closing his eyes.

“Steve” you whispered. His hands folded across his chest. Almost like he was protecting himself.

“Y/N”

“I’ve had feelings for you since forever” you touched his arms, getting him to un-clench his fists, “the pain in my head is almost gone, I am thinking clearly. In fact I’m thinking logically, like if the team doesn’t get back here in time and we’re found; I don’t want die not knowing what touching you, kissing you feels like.” You entwined your fingers into his.

“Don’t talk like that, we’re going to get out of here, alive.” He said.

“But if we don’t,” you hooked your legs around his hips and locked your ankles and pulled him closer to you. Without any further arguments Steve planted a hard, needy kiss on your lips. Your hands crawled up his back under his shirt.

Steve grabbed your face, before his hands travelled down your sides to the hem of your shirt. You could feel him getting hard between your thighs. You rolled yours to get a bit of friction.

“Y/N” he moaned, before ripping your shirt off over your head and threw it somewhere to your right, before standing up straight and ripping his off as well. As he came back down to your face he pushed you further back on the table. Until you were lying on your back with him on top of you.

He trailed kisses down your throat until he was between your breasts. With a snap he tore your bra away and took one of your breasts in his mouth while palming the other. You threw your head back and moaned his name.

“Steve” you dug your nails into his back the more suckled.

He moved away from your breasts and trailed down to your belly button, before he slid out of the grasp of your legs.

“Hold on to the table” he said, and so you grabbed the sides of the table as he hooked his fingers into the belt loops of your pants and tugged. He ripped your pants and panties straight off, until you were lying there, in all your glory.

“Please Steve” you whispered looking up at him, before sliding back to the edge of the table. He took one look at your pleading face. You started on his button and zip, pulling his pants down until they were around his ankles. He sprang free, and was already rock hard.

“Y/N are you sure about this?” Steve whispered.

Instead of answering with words, you wrapped your hand around his length and slowly started pumping, rubbing the pre-cum around the tip with your thumb. He moaned and took a step towards you.

His mouth crashed into yours. Your hands moved from his length, to his hair and you wrapped your legs around him again. He lined himself up with your entrance, and slowly he entered you. It was agonizingly slow at first, so you could adjust to his size. He filled you entirely.

He started rocking his hips and you rocked yours in time with him. He moved his lips from yours to your neck, where he gave you a light nibble, which would definitely leave a mark tomorrow. Your hands traced his spine and his muscles. He rocked into you harder, and moved one of his hands between the two of you and started tracing circles on your clit; you dugs your fingers into his back leaving red scratches.

“Steve” you moaned as he took your breast back in his mouth, “Steve, please” you begged.

“Y/N”

You were close; you could feel the coil tighten in your stomach, the throbbing between your legs. With each rock. With each circle his thumb made. You were about to lose control.

“I’m close” you panted, your legs feeling weak. He thrusted harder into you, and you cried out his name.

“STEVE”

That was enough encouragement for him, his thrusting became faster and sloppier, and he came inside you. You rode out the end of your orgasm as he rode out his.

“Y/N” he panted against your ear, before pulling out and half collapsing on you. Your legs still hooked around his hips. Your hands were still rubbing up and down his back and you nibbled on his neck. He hoisted himself up onto his elbows until he was above you.

“I’ve been in love with you since the day you arrived at the tower.” He whispered, trailing kisses up and down your neck, “I fell more in love with you the first time you sassed Bucky and he had no idea how to respond, except stand there with his mouth open” he snickered, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine.

“And I fell more in love with you tonight, and I didn’t know that was even possible”

And with that, you half judo flipped him until you were straddling him on the table.

“How about now?” you whispered against his neck as you nibbled. He growled and grabbed your hips. Just as you were about to go for round two, you heard the rumble of the Quinjet engines above, and you knew the Avengers wouldn’t be far behind.

“Oh shit” Steve said as you both jumped up and gathered your clothes.

“Language. Captain” you smirked. He slapped your ass before pulling on his shirt.

You two were just finished getting dressed when doors to the cabin flung open, Bucky, Nat and Sam stood there. Clint was in the cock pit of the jet and the other Avengers were on guard duty.

“Come on you two, we don’t have time for hugs and welcome backs, and all that crap” Stark yelled over the comms. As Steve walked away with Nat and Sam, they explained the situation; Bucky fell into step beside you, a smirk on his face. He held up your panties.

“You ah, left these behind doll face” he threw them at you and sprinted up the ramp. You quickly thrust them into your pocket, before climbing up and taking your seat, opposite Steve.

  End…

[orchidice]

      a small lighthearted chuckle leaves her , and her eyebrow raises just as her signature smirk appears ; she is amused , to say the least --- one can easily deduce that just by looking at her . esmerald eyes look at the other and if one knew yelan , one would then know that she was more than likely plotting something already . after all , she isn't one to ever stop working .

   "" do we , now ? "" she almost sounds surprised , arms crossed below her chest as she grabs one of her cigarettes , and what seems to be a worn-out lighter . "" i must say , actually - it was fun working with you these past few days . just don't try and get into any more trouble , alright ? ""

|| @enjomo ! ❛ i’d say we make a pretty good team. ❜

[orchidice]

      "" smash . he is rather pleasant on the eyes , unfortunately though , he doesn't let me get too close to him whenever i manage to find him . oh well . ""

smash or pass // @bcughkeeper !

[orchidice]

      the woman can't help but chuckle the moment his words are heard , even shaking her head a tiny bit as she sets down her glass , half full already . how many glasses had she had , tonight ? who knows , and personally , she also didn't really care at the moment .

   "" and i thought i had drunk a lot already . "" yelan giggles , before clearing her throat with a smile still so clear on her face . "" be careful with your words , captain , wouldn't want for anything compromising to be said , would you ? ""

"if you're going to keep gazing at me, dear, then maybe i should just strip right here~" //IM SORRY DSBGHVFDNSGDF // @abysshearted !

[orchidice]

      "" . . . i can not see him with a beard . ""

what if instead the hair just.. drops. like, he becomes bald but he gets a full ass beard // @hiisfire !

[orchidice]

      "" in my defense , i do quite like the danger . ""

💗! // @narvvhal !

[orchidice]

     . . . uh .

💗 for funsies! // @hitokageisei !

[orchidice]

      a little chuckle leaves her lips , the woman moving from leaning against the rock of the mountain top they found themselves in , to stand beside the yaksha near the edge . " will do if you do as well . " a pause , " although , i have the feeling both of us will spend it working , this year . "

“ … enjoy lantern rite. ” // @doombaned !

[orchidice]

      " but i am very serious indeed . " a little wink is given to the white haired woman , shrugging slightly too before she lets out a small , playful laugh . " and i am not one to simply say something and not mean it in some way or another - you know this , don't you , shenhe ? "

“  you  can’t  be  serious.  “ (from shenhe maybe? 🙏) // @maquiscursed !