#I did NOT mess up the scarf what on earth do you mean

[truffletripper]

Finished the Poly Bugs drawing before McLennon so here it is

I like to think they kept that scarf from the movie

[overtake]

I’m sorry we need about 5k more words of mechanic Daniel driver max pls and ty!!!

Part One

I’m actually so shocked (but pleasantly surprised and honored!) by people enjoying this verse because I almost deleted it without posting. I don’t have 5k more, but I can offer 1.2k!

I still lowkey hate this - and you can definitely tell I have no vision for where this story would go, hence why it’s just harping on the same 3 details we already knew - but it’s all yours and I hope you have a good time reading it anyway :)

Five minutes into pretending to examine an engine instead of obsess over what Max said, Daniel breaks.

“Did you mention me to Max?” he asks Cyril, trying to come across casual.

Cyril looks at him disbelievingly. “Max Verstappen is in our garage and you think I talked about you at all?”

Daniel lifts a hand to his chest and feigns being shot. “People love me, you know. Guys are all over this.”

Cyril heaves out a long-suffering sigh. “Get to work, Daniel.”

Daniel’s lucky, given his condition, that everything is relatively routine today. He does three oil changes, and he could kiss those people’s feet for it.

He’s mentally preparing himself to slide under a car, wincing at much more congested he’ll be once he emerges again, when Max suddenly appears in the corner of the garage.

“Hello,” he says. He does a cute little half-wave to get Daniel’s attention.

“Hey,” Daniel says, straightening and rubbing his grimy hands on his thighs. “Cyril’s working on your car, so he’ll have any updates you need.”

“It’s not my car, just a rental,” Max dismisses. “No, I just have …” He cuts himself off, turns a sweet pink on the apples of his cheeks. “You sounded sick earlier and looked really pale. I brought you soup.”

He lifts a takeaway bag from the cafe down the street, which usually specializes in ten dollar lattes and sandwiches with names so cutesy, you have to practice five times to order without shame.

Daniel smiles at the idea of Max Verstappen, world champion, saying one of those horrible names for Daniel’s benefit. “You didn’t have to do that. Thank you. Let me pay you back.”

Max shakes his head. “It’s my thanks for fixing the car.”

Daniel raises his eyebrows. “So what soup did you get Cyril, who’s actually doing that?”

Max scrunches his nose in disgust. “You cannot expect me to say the name Noodle Nest Paradise more than one time.”

“How many times did you laugh trying to get that out?”

Max shudders. “I pretended to speak really bad English and just pointed at the menu.”

“So you could’ve ordered multiple,” Daniel points out. Max very blatantly pretends not to hear. He focuses instead on pulling a little bag from the order and holding it up proudly, smiling a crinkly-eyed smile.

“I got you crackers!”

Eating soup with Max Verstappen is an out of body experience.

Daniel’s been eating his soup over the coffee table in the office because it felt wrong to make Max sit at the grimy, wobbly table in the closet-sized corner of the garage where Daniel and Cyril usually change and scarf down meals. This, however, means they’re stuck together on the loveseat. Max’s expensive skinny jeans knock knees with Daniel’s greasy coveralls when they get too into the conversation.

Daniel knows he’s being a terrible conversationalist, especially at first. His normal easy charisma is buried somewhere in the pile of tissues he’s burning through. He’s basically just answering Max’s rapid-fire questions about his life, his job, his family, his non-existent partner (“do you have a girlfriend or boyfriend or anything?” Max had asked, and looked remarkably pleased by Daniel’s answer of no).

Daniel’s about 87% sure he’s being hit on right now. It’s a nice confidence booster given how much of a mess he looks, but it’s not like it matters. Max is Max, and Max is F1, and Max doesn’t live here.

He likes Max, though, the longer they talk. He likes his eagerness, his down-to-earth nature, his total lack of interest in discussing racing. Max delights in all Daniel’s behaviours that usually make people roll their eyes and wait for him to be done, whereas Max leans into Daniel’s dumb songs or drawn out jokes. He likes the long lashes that frame Max’s bright, happy eyes, and soft double chin he gets when he ducks his head into his laugh.

Daniel’s not sure how much time passes before Cyril comes in, but he knows his voice has faded to practically nothing, and he’s having to constantly turn to avoid coughing on Max.

Cyril’s timing is rather unfortunate, entering just as Daniel breaks into a particularly rough wheeze. Max is patting his back gently, which Cyril will definitely have words about later. Presently, however, he seems too concerned about Daniel’s wellbeing to lecture him about appropriate contact with famous customers.

“Daniel. Go home,” he orders, voice kind but firm. His tone leaves no room for argument, not that Daniel really wants to fight him on it. He’s enjoying this, but his brain and body feel as if they’re wading through a pool of thick custard.

“Are you okay to drive?” Max checks. His eyebrows are knitted in sweet concern, like Daniel actually might keel over and die in the ten-minute ride home.

“All good,” Daniel promises. He stands, then promptly has to collapse back onto the couch when black spots dot his vision.

“I’m driving you,” Cyril says firmly.

“I just stood up too fast.” Sure, he’s a little woozier than expected, but he could do this drive blindfolded and half-dead.

“I’ll drive you,” Max says. “I mean, Cyril has work to do, but I’m just sitting here.”

“How do I know you won’t kidnap me or steal my car?” Daniel rasps.

“He’s not worth kidnapping, and selling his car probably couldn’t cover an oil change for the kinds of cars you drive,” Cyril informs Max. He ignores Daniel’s protests, then pushes Daniel back down to the couch when he half-rises from it.

“Stay. I will get your keys and bag.”

The second Daniel’s brain understands that he’s off-duty, that it’s no longer expected to carry him through the day, it mostly blacks out, and everything is a blur from there.

He’s pretty confident Cyril steals his phone to call his mum, which is vaguely embarrassing but perhaps necessary given his current state. He knows Cyril gives Max directions to Daniel’s parents’ place instead of his own. He feels Max’s hands help him into the passenger seat, and he definitely mutters some fever-addled sentences on the drive. That’s about all he remembers until he wakes up in his childhood bed, shivering and sweating while his mum runs a hand through his hair and forces medicine down his throat, before he falls back asleep again.

When he finally comes to enough to make his way downstairs, he finds his parents seated at the kitchen table. His mum jumps up, forces him into a chair and fusses over him while simultaneously lecturing him about going to work sick. His dad just sits there, eyebrows half-raised, until Daniel is settled with food and water.

“So. You had an exciting day at work.”

He slides a piece of scrap paper across the table. There, under some advertisement for gardening services, is a scrawled message in red pen:

It was lovely to meet you (again). I hope the terribly named soup made you feel better! :)

- Max

Under his name, Max has scrawled a phone number.

Daniel runs his finger over the lines, feeling the imprint of each number that Max etched into the paper. It’s neatly written, far more cautious and intentional than the rest of the words, as if to ensure that no digit could be misread or smudged.

Daniel pauses, processes the full note, and double backs to the word ‘again.’

“Yeah,” Daniel croaks through the stabbing pains in his throat. He stares at the word harder, like it might reveal what the fuck Max means by again. “I guess today was pretty interesting.”

[alwritey-aphrodite]

A Confession of Sorts

Chapter 12 of You Are In Love

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: modern!Poe Dameron x reader

Warnings: none!

Word Count: 2.1k

Author’s Note: I feel like they’ve been yearning for years… maybe a little while longer

You spend the next morning as an anxious mess.

After confirming to meet Poe around lunchtime, you immediately shut off your phone and went to bed, even though you spent what felt like hours tossing and turning and begging for sleep. Eventually, you drift off, your dreams full of rejection and eternal loneliness.

You know it’s silly to be nervous, but your hands still shake as you get ready, even as you’re tugging on your coat and beginning your freezing walk to the bakery Poe wanted to meet at.

Despite the cold and the fluttering snowflakes, you enjoy your walk. It gives you time to distract yourself with softer thoughts, like planning gifts for your friends and decorations for your apartment, like wondering if the snow will stick or melt. Even though Thanksgiving just passed and it’s still technically autumn, you’ve decided that it’s winter.

You’ve just about fully planned your winter apartment decor when you make it to the bakery and see Poe seated at a small table, and his eyes light up when he sees you walk through the door after looking up at the sound of the bell. He’s wearing a beanie and a chunky sweater and you just about lose your mind because how is it far that he can look so adorable while you’re an anxious mess?

If only you knew he was thinking the same thing about you and your hand-knit scarf and thick coat, snowflakes sticking to your hair.

“Hi,” you say as you approach him, keeping your voice down in the intimate shop, couples and groups crowded at nearby tables.

“Hi,” he repeats, and soon you’re both just standing there, unsure of what comes next and who moves first.

“You want something to drink, your usual?” He asks, already taking a step towards the counter.

“Yeah, that… that would be perfect.” You sink into your seat, a bit stunned that he knows what you order, your heart an absolute riot in your chest.

Poe returns a few minutes later, your drink in hand, brushing off both your thanks and your attempts to pay him back. For a few minutes, everything is peaceful, the two of you simply sitting together, chatting idly while the snow falls outside.

“Are you upset with me?” Poe finally asks the question that’s been weighing him down for weeks, too nervous for an answer to ask it before. You sputter and almost choke on your drink in surprise.

“Of course not,” you reassure him, reaching across the small table to squeeze his hand, “I promise.”

“Ok,” he nods and smiles, a relieved smile, “it just seemed like you were avoiding me for a bit, that’s all.”

“Well… I was, but not because of anything you did, I promise!” You hold your hands up in a strange attempt to keep him calm when his eyes drop, a frown forming on his lips.

“Why?”

“Because I kissed you? And that was weird of me to do?”

“Oh… right.” He responds, as if that event wasn’t nearly as earth shattering for him as it had been for you. “I mean, it was an accident. No harm done.” And then he smiles that brilliant smile of his, and you’re knocked off your feet.

He’s right, once you stop to think about it; it was a complete accident, a silly mistake that you could have laughed about if you hadn’t freaked out and run for the hills. Still, you’re glad that everything is cleared up now, and you no longer have to worry about Poe secretly hating you.

“Good,” you smile, feeling lighter than you have in weeks, because everything really is ok. It’s still snowing when you’ve finished your drinks, the flakes falling fat and steady, swirling around before meeting the ground and sticking to it. It’s picture perfect winter weather, if you remain inside.

“Wanna go for a walk?” Poe asks, already standing from his chair and wrapping a thick scarf around his throat.

“In this?” You respond, glancing out the large windows, even though you’re following suit and standing from your chair, tugging your hat back on your head.

“Mh-hm.” He nods with a smile, so once you’ve both bundled up, he leads you from the cafe and out into the snow.

When you step outside, it’s like stepping into a snow globe. Your quaint little city has been transformed into the set of a Hallmark movie, complete with twinkly lights and swirling snow. It all seems a little too perfect, but you want to enjoy the snow while you can, before it turns to slush and the world turns grey and leaving your house becomes a chore.

Poe grabs you by the hand, leading you down the snowy streets. You aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but you’d follow him anywhere.

Even so, after a few minutes of aimlessly walking, after your nose has started to feel like it’s going to fall off, you ask, “Where are you taking me?”

“Nowhere in particular,” Poe shrugs, squeezing your hand gently, “just wanted to walk with you.”

Suddenly, you’re warm all over, you can barely even feel the chill of the air, can barely feel the freezing cold snowflakes landing on your eyelashes. For a moment, you think about pausing and pulling Poe into a hug, to feel more of that warmth, but instead you settle for squeezing his hand in return.

After wandering through the falling snow for a few minutes longer, Poe pulls you to a stop near a park bench, brushing off the seat to keep your clothes from becoming cold and wet. You sit close to him, telling yourself it’s just because you’re cold.

“You know about our holiday traditions, right?” Poe asks you after a few minutes of enjoying the picturesque scenery in comfortable silence.

“I’ve heard bits and pieces from Rose over the last year,” you tell him, turning your attention fully to him.

The way he looks with his cheeks ruddy from the cold and snowflakes sticking to his eyelashes takes your breath away.

“Well, a couple’a days before Christmas, we all get together - you’re coming this year?” He pauses, waits for you to nod before continuing, “we get together, probably at Rose’s place, and we do the whole gift exchange, big dinner, holiday movies type of thing.”

“And we always do it early because Rose takes Rey to spend the real holiday with her sister’s family. And Finn always comes over to my place Christmas Eve, and my dad comes up, and it’s really a causal thing, but it’d mean a lot to me if you’d want to stop by for an hour or two.”

Poe’s rambling, spilling any word that appears in his brain because he can’t stand the idea of silence right now, can’t possibly entertain the idea that you’d turn him down after how long it took him to gather the courage to ask you. Really, he knows that it would be alright for you to politely decline his invitation, but his heart might just break a little.

“That sounds great,” you tell him, stopping his babbling with a grin and the gentle way you set your hand on top of his. Really, you want to get up and scream with joy, but that would only make you seem crazy, not only to Poe but to the people hurrying past. So instead, you settle for what you deem the more appropriate response.

“Perfect,” Poe grins in return, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen a prettier sight. “You ready to walk back? My hands are starting to freeze,” he chuckles, rubbing his hands together for warmth.

“Let’s go,” you stand from the bench, holding your hand out for Poe to grab on to. It takes him a moment of simply staring at your outstretched hand before he takes it, and the two of you begin your walk back to the cafe.

As you walk, you and Poe talk about nothing and everything. You talk about work, about your favorite parts of the holidays, about Finn and his good natured meddling. It’s wonderful to finally catch up with him after all of the time you’ve spent anxiously wondering whether Poe hates you or not. It’s nice to have a definite answer, to quiet your brain and just enjoy the moment.

The snow has slowed down, drifting gently towards the Earth in dramatic swirls and flourishes. The snow, and Poe by your side, almost make the cold worth it. Still, you’re thankful when you finally reach the warm glow of the cafe again, and you’re even more thankful when Poe offers to give you a ride back to your apartment.

That familiar peacefulness of Poe’s car overtakes you, and it’s better than you’d remember to simply sit and bask in the comfortable silence, the gentle sounds of the radio and the snowflakes falling against the windshield. You and Poe are mostly silent, but you’re just happy to be near him, to share the same space with him again.

When you exit, he plants a kiss on your forehead, pulling away with a cheeky smile and a “To avoid any mishaps.” Your mouth drops open in shock, but then he’s giggling, and Poe’s laughter is the most infectious noise on the planet, so soon the two of you are sitting in his parked car in front of your apartment building, doubled over with laughter.

After a few minutes, you pull it together enough to say one last goodbye before exiting the car, rushing into the building against the cold. Once you're safely inside and feel the warm air rushing over you, you turn to wave at Poe, who’s already waving back. With one last grin, you turn away and head up to your apartment.

Your own apartment feels brighter, feels warmer, upon your return, almost as if the imaginary weight Poe had lifted from your shoulders has made your whole life lighter. Changing into comfortable clothes, you turn on some festive music and set about making your apartment holiday ready.

Lights and garland get strung around, and you add deep red and forest green throw pillows onto your couch, throwing some thick blankets on the back of it for good measure. You don’t stop until your whole apartment has been transformed, making sure even your bathroom and studio get some festive decor.

Now, with everything all decorated, you finally feel ready for the season, ready to soak up time with your loved ones in warm living rooms, in front of fireplaces, and crowded in kitchens. You’re sure some sort kf outdoor adventure awaits you as well, feeling certain that Rose will drag you ice skating at least once.

Once you’re confident that you apartment has gotten a full dose of holiday cheer, you turn off the festive music you’d been playing and settle onto your couch to watch whatever cheesy, made-for-TV holiday movie that’s currently playing. Glancing down at your phone, you notice a text from Rose, sent to the groupchat.

Our little extravaganza will be Dec 20 at my place! No Secret Santa or White Elephant because some of us are too immature for that - so just bring something small for everyone if you feel so inclined!! And some snacks because I don’t feel like doing all the cooking :)

You send a thumbs up, and mentally set about planning for everyone’s gifts while you let the movie play, tuning in and out of the storyline.

It’s not my fault not everyone can appreciate my gifts

It’s Finn who replies, after everyone’s confirmed Rose’s plan, and you’re not even a little bit surprised that Finn’s the one who ended the secret gift exchanges. He’s full to the brim with youngest sibling energy, an agent of unending love and chaos. You’re beyond lucky to call him your friend, even as you sit shaking your head at the playful argument he’s started.

It doesn’t take you very long to decide on gifts for Rey and Rose, and you know that Finn would be happy with absolutely anything you gave him. Poe, however, causes you some trouble.

You want to get him something meaningful, something he’ll truly love, but you don’t want to come on too strong. It’s a struggle to determine what would be too revealing of a gift to get, because you’re not ready to have all of your cards on the table yet, but you still want to show him how much you care about him.

It takes you a few more hours and two more cringey Christmas movies, until you’re snug in your bed and trying to drift off, to think of the perfect gift for Poe. Quickly, you jot your idea down on your phone so you don’t forget it as you sleep, and you feel more relaxed than you have in weeks.

Tags: @disabledameron @andromeda-dear @dailyreverie @stevenngrant @aellynera @creatively-analytical @tiquinntheghost @luckynachos @fallinallinmendes @sabxism @ghostsongwriter-22 @poopirate @loonymagizoologist @stvnnie @campingwiththecharmings @outmodead @welcometostayingawake

[bicsbec]

Stay a Little Longer pt. 2

The quintants that led up to the wedding were a bundle of stress and a test of patience. Hunk was in charge of catering, Keith was in charge of not losing the rings, and Lance was in charge of making sure Pidge didn’t go ballistic when the flowers on the centerpieces were wrong or any other detail were to be out of place.

Coran wondered if all weddings on Earth ran this chaotically.

The day itself ran smoother than Coran had expected, considering the buildup. The only hiccup was that Shiro was a babbling mess of nerves.

“I’m gonna mess up the vows,” he said for the tenth time, pacing the length of the room.

“You know them by heart,” Keith insisted. “You’ll be fine. We’re gonna be right there with you.”

Shiro didn’t look too sure.

“At the end of the day, lad, you love him, and he loves you,” Coran said. “You’re gonna go home married to him when the day is out. Isn’t that what matters?”

Shiro smiled, still nervous, but his confidence was building. “Yeah, it is.”

“Then let’s walk you down that aisle,” Coran said cheerily.

“Great,” Keith said with a clap. “I’ll get everyone in position, before he gets nervous again.”

Shiro jabbed Keith playfully before the sound of people scurrying around was heard from outside the dressing room. The guests were seated, and Pidge was doing the last round of finishing touches.

Just then, Krolia peered her head through the doorway looking frantic.

“Coran! There you are!”

“Is something wrong, Mom?” Keith asked as he stepped aside for her.

“I just need Coran really quick,” Krolia said, pulling Kolivan into the room. “He’s the only person alive that can figure this out.”

“Apologies,” Kolivan said. “I haven’t worn dress robes in a very long time. I forgot—um, I’m not sure where this goes.” He held up a piece of fabric.

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Coran smiled. As he took Kolivan in, he noticed that his outfit did look incomplete. Coran hadn’t laid eyes on a traditional Galran dress robe in a very long time, but he remembered them well from all the balls he attended in Daibazaal.

“Are we ready in here?” Pidge asked from the door, seeming to have just appeared there.

“I’ll be just a tick,” Coran said. “Shiro, go wait for me outside, I won’t be long.”

“Krolia, please follow me,” Pidge said, exiting as quickly as she came. Krolia raised an eyebrow at Keith.

“It’s better if you do as she says,” Keith said gravely. With that, the only people left in the dressing room were Coran and Kolivan.

“This would be your military marker,” Coran explained, taking the scarf from Kolivan’s hand. “It indicated your loyalty to the Daibazaal crown. It goes around your neck, under your collar.”

“But I’m not loyal to the crown,” Kolivan pulled his neck away from Coran’s hands.

“It stopped meaning that a long time ago. By the time Altea was wiped from the star system it was just a fashionable accessory. Young boys that were not in the military would wear them. Could you take off your coat? It’s easier to wrap around then.”

Kolivan shrugged off his coat just enough to ease access to his neck and stayed silent for a tick. “Funny thing. Youth.” He vaguely gestured around them.

Coran nodded, concentrating on the knot of the scarf. “I remember being young and in love and all of that. It’s a sweet, silly thing.”

“That it is,” Kolivan had a small smile on his lips, his eyes were far away. It made Coran curious to know what he was remembering. With a light tone he added, “It’s also stupid.”

A surprised laugh escaped Coran. Kolivan’s smile grew wider. “Yes, it is,” Coran chuckled, fixing Kolivan’s collar. “You’re all set.”

Kolivan shrugged his coat back on. “Thank you, Coranic.”

“N-no problem,” Coran stuttered, flustered and confused by the name. Kolivan took a bow and exited the dressing room.

When Coran stepped outside, he found Lance pinning some flowers on Shiro’s shawl lapel. The smell hit him before he saw them properly: juniberries.

“Hey, Coran,” Lance greeted. “How do they look?”

“Um, good—great! They look—yeah,” Coran was transfixed by the flowers.

Lance’s shoulders relaxed. “I’m glad. These are from the farm back home.”

“They’re beautiful, Lance,” Coran said earnestly.

“Lance! Curtis’ cousin is waiting for you,” Pidge called. “She better not walk down alone.”

“Jeez, I’m coming,” Lance said, hurrying away.

The groomspeople, as Curtis and Shiro had agreed to call them, were in their places, Curtis walking in first with his mother. Coran could feel Shiro’s nervous energy beside him. He glanced over, about to try and calm him down, but he realized it was excitement when he saw Shiro’s expression.

“How do you feel?” Coran asked with a smile.

“Ready,” Shiro said, eyes focused forward. The sweet smell of juniberries hit Coran again.

“How do you feel?” Coran asked with a nervous smile.

Alfor seemed to be just as nervous. “Ready, I think.”

“You’ve met her before,” Coran said reassuringly.

“I have,” Alfor nodded in agreement. “She’s very beautiful. And brilliant.”

“Sounds like your type,” Coran fixed Alfor’s suit one last time, fussing over his medals and crown.

“I suppose she does,” Alfor regained some of his charm back. The families stood as Melenor appeared at the end of the aisle.

Coran straightened and plastered on his best smile. The smell of juniberries wafted over from Alfor. Coran tried his best to savor the familiarity. Tried his best to be happy for his King.

Coran sat down beside Curtis’ parents with a sigh. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would’ve been like to walk Allura down the aisle on her wedding day. A day he’d never get to see. He wondered if that would’ve happened at all. He wondered what kind of person she would’ve grown into. A wonderful one, he was sure. More than she already had been.

Coran’s heart felt heavy as he watched Shiro say his vows with confidence. He closed his eyes, trying to shoo away the emotions, but that only made him feel guilty. Guilty for not wanting Allura close, when, in fact, he did. Guilty for pushing her away, when he was the one that pulled her into the scenario in the first place.

She would’ve loved this. Maybe not for herself, but she would have loved today.

Coran watched the grooms’ first dance with some melancholy. They seemed so wrapped up in each other, talking and laughing as they shifted around, sometimes looking down at their feet. They looked happy; Coran couldn’t fathom how they must’ve felt.

He found his mood lightening with Keith’s approach. They weren’t really talking, but Keith’s presence was enough for Coran.

When the first dance was over, Curtis walked over to his mother with a charming smile and pulled her along for a dance. Coran chuckled at the sight, not noticing that Shiro was holding out a hand to him.

“Oh, I didn’t know we were dancing,” Coran said.

“I figured it was only right,” Shiro said with half a shrug.

Coran smiled, taking Shiro’s hand and pulling himself off his chair.

“You probably guessed this, but I don’t know these dances, my boy,” Coran said, looking down at their feet.

“That’s alright,” Shiro said easily. “Just follow my lead.”

Coran wasn’t sure how to do that. Shiro was walking in short steps, sometimes forward, sometimes to the side, and Coran could never tell which way he would go next. Which resulted in Coran stepping on Shiro’s toes constantly.

“Stop thinking so much,” Shiro chuckled, making Coran look up.

“Wh—how am I supposed to follow you?”

“Feel where my arms are pulling you.”

“Oh.”

His feet still stumbled, but he managed to not step on Shiro’s toes as much. He smiled at the floor as he figured out the pacing, noticing that the shifts in melody also had to do with Shiro’s timing.

“There you go,” Shiro smiled.

Coran laughed as Shiro spun him around. They danced until the song changed and Shiro walked Coran back to his chair.

“Thank you for today,” Shiro said, sitting down beside Coran.

“No need to thank me,” Coran smiled, looking up at the dance floor and seeing Lance and Keith had entered it without him noticing. Keith seemed like he was trying not to laugh at Lance as Lance talked and danced and stopped, like he was explaining something. “I’ve quiet enjoyed seeing you this happy.”

“I quite like being this happy,” Shiro said. “I like not waking up in a cold sweat every day, I like feeling whole, I like slow mornings where Curtis reads the paper and I make coffee. I’m really grateful for the mundane stuff in my life. I’m grateful for him.”

Shiro was watching Curtis talk with his father as his younger sister tugged on his sleeve. His sister won over his attention and pulled him to the dance floor, placing her bare feet on his shoes as he swayed them around, dancing for both of them. Shiro and Coran watched as Veronica asked for a dance with Curtis and his sister waddled over to where Shiro and Coran sat.

“Takashi,” she began somewhat shyly, “I was wondering…”

“Yes, June?” Shiro said with a smile.

“If I could…dance with you?” June was eyeing Shiro’s prosthetic, like she still wasn’t used to seeing it.

“It would be my pleasure,” Shiro stood and offered her his real hand, seemingly aware of her apprehension. June smiled and took his hand, bounding to the dance floor once more.

Coran watched as Shiro danced with June, faintly heard how she laughed with each spin. He found himself smiling, loving the sight of his family enjoying themselves, not burdened by worries about their safety or well-being. They were safe. They were happy. They were alive.

That was more than enough for Coran. He sighed contently. She would’ve loved this.

* * *

Coran found himself in a good place in his life. It was easy to breathe again. Easy to get up in the mornings. Even the Coalitions squabbles became a comfort, the stress it brought bringing a sense consistency in his life.

Galra Representative Lurok was one of those consistent inconveniences.

“The mass displacement of Galra citizens is an outrage!” Lurok said somewhere in the middle of his long-winded speech about honor and reparations, positioning the old Galran government as a victim of the ten thousand deca-phoebs of universal colonization. Coran’s attention caught at the word citizen. Lurok usually argued about ‘brave soldiers’ and ‘noble forces’ that were being repelled from the planets they had occupied.

Coran’s temple throbbed with the threat of the beginnings of a headache. Displacement of Galran citizens. A small, resentful part inside of him whispered, Good. He shook off the thought, a little alarmed at himself. These were people that found themselves without a home because of crimes they didn’t commit. They weren’t to blame for the state of the universe.

Representative Aihpos cued up some graphs and charts, taking the lead on the Galra’s time to present the ongoing issues their people faced.

“As is evident, the safe houses provided in Daibazaal have reached their maximum capacity. In the millennia of the planet’s absence, the Galra population grew beyond Daibazaal’s housing capabilities. Simply put, there is no place for our citizens to turn to without upsetting the ecological balance of our newly recovered planet.”

Aihpos tended to be the voice of reason between the two representatives, but sometimes even her sound logic leaned into Lurok’s agenda of painting themselves as the oppressed instead of the oppressors.

Right then, however, Coran found himself leaning forward, wanting to hear more.

“Most of these individuals have lived on these planets for generations,” Aihpos continued. “Entire communities and ages of tradition were uprooted overnight with the tragic fall of the Empire.” Coran cringed at the adjective. “Their concept of ‘home planet’ has never been Daibazaal. Very few people alive even remember Daibazaal. Our citizens are being displaced from their homes, and they have no shelter to turn to that their government can provide.”

“And what do you propose?” Curtis asked. Coran’s eyes flew to Lurok, watching for his reaction. Sure enough, Lurok’s nostrils flared. This was usually the part where the Galran’s proposals were shut down, too outlandish or bold to be considered seriously.

“Nothing that isn’t beyond your power to grant,” Aihpos said, as she always did. “Allow our citizens to remain where they have set down their roots. Grant them protection from those that wish the contrary. Preserve their dignity.”

That’s surprisingly reasonable, Coran found himself thinking.

“Can I see your proposal’s draft?” Emi piped in. Lurok sat up straighter, like the question surprised him.

“C-certainly,” Aihpos said, somewhat scrambling for the document. She handed Emi the document as he thanked her with a bright smile.

“I believe this draft’s revision should be a top priority,” Emi said to Coran as he glanced over it. Coran nodded, looking over the document in Emi’s hands. “I propose a motion to make it so.”

“I second it,” Commander Holt said.

“Opposition?” Coran asked the other representatives. Their silence was his answer. “The motion passes.

Aihpos and Lurok shared a stunted look, like they couldn’t believe they got away with it. It was the only crack in their usually proud and composed demeanor. One that always seemed too close to that of Galran generals, their attitudes stubborn and dead set on their objectives. Coran always had his guard up around them, having the dreadful feeling that their loyalty had never shifted away from Zarkon.

His mistrust in them was inevitable, but he tried his best look past it. These were different times. They hadn’t given him any real reason to not be considered trustworthy. It was only his preconceived notions that made him doubt their character.

He realized that this struggle had never extended itself to the Blade of Marmora. Their relationship had gotten off to a rough start, but once they were proper allies, he trusted them blindly.

This should be the case with Lurok and Aihpos, but something about them got under his skin. Maybe it was the fact that while Zarkon ruled, they never opposed him; maybe it was the fact that they no longer served the Empire because the option to do so was taken from them.

It made Coran uneasy.

That uneasiness continued when he noticed the vague wording in the proposal. It was too open to interpretation, words could be twisted, motives were unclear. He brought it up in a revision meeting with Lurok.

“Representative Lurok, your proposal states here in Section 3, Article D, that Galra citizens are to be ‘assigned guard to make up for lack of security.’”

“Yes,” Lurok agreed easily.

“What does that mean exactly?”

“The Galran people face the threat of violence on a regular basis nowadays,” Lurok supplied. “Forces would be deployed to guarantee their safety.”

“Forces? Whose?”

“Well, ours, of course! Who else would look after their wellbeing properly?”

On paper, the idea seemed rational, but what they were actually proposing was something different. They were using their citizens—or so it seemed—who were scattered all over the universe, to deploy their forces again. Forces that had been dismantled and repelled, on planets that were promised peace and the lack of Galran soldiers.

“That move would violate treaties to which the Coalition is bound,” Coran said firmly. “Find a different solution. Contact each planet, see what can be done.”

Lurok’s lip twitched, his chest puffing. “Very well,” he gritted out.

They went down the draft, slowly figuring out the proposal’s true intention and marking the articles that would need amendment.

“Have Representative Aihpos look over these changes,” Coran handed Lurok the document. “We want to help, but it must be done within a reasonable margin.”

“I’ll be sure to do that,” Lurok took the papers, wrinkling his nose at them like they’d done something unsavory.

“We look forward to hearing from you,” Coran said with a stiff smile.

Lurok only grumbled.

< pt. 1 | pt.3 >

[lexosaurus]

The Illusionist

Dannymay2021 prompt: Illusion

My Hero Academia x Danny Phantom crossover  Word Count: 5262 Read on: [ao3]

---

“A kid?” Shouta asked. 

The muffled sound of an explosion echoed from the other side of the phone line.

“He can’t be older than sixteen.” Kamui Woods' voice crackled through the receiver. “Eraserhead, this is going to sound crazy, but the kid has multiple quirks. We can’t get near him. He keeps...shit, he just flew through another wall!”

Shouta shifted his cell between his shoulder and ear, launching himself up a wall and onto the roof of a low building. He surveyed the distance and saw a bright green light flash from across the city.

That must have been them.

“We need you to nullify the quirks so we can contain him till the Illusionment wears off.”

“Alright,” Shouta said, jumping off the roof. “Send me your location. I’m on my way.”

It was a new villain, one that the public had dubbed ‘the Illusionist.’ His quirk was simple, yet effective. If he touched someone, he could make them hallucinate their worst fear. 

So far, the heroes and detectives on the case hadn’t been able to figure out much about the Illusionist himself. He never struck the same victim twice, and he didn’t seem to stick around long enough for pro heroes to find him. Not to mention, the majority of his attacks happened in dark alleyways to the local homeless population, far from any cameras that would have been able to pick up his face.

And that fact made Aizawa’s blood boil. Because these weren’t attacks of revenge. No, they were attacks from someone who thought it was fun to mess with the disenfranchised. Someone who enjoyed exerting their powers over those they perceived to be less than, like some kid on a playground squishing ants beneath their sneakers.

The Illusionist’s influence was powerful, and each victim reacted differently. For some, they just froze up, lying motionless until they were found. For others, they lashed out at anyone who dared get close. 

And in a society filled with countless unknown quirks, those of his targets who did lash out—though victims themselves—still needed to be dealt with.

The good news was, the quirk’s effects weren’t permanent, and he seemed to require a fairly long recharge time in between each attack. So the pro heroes never had to deal with more than one victim at a time.

So far, the heroes and police force had figured out two ways of dealing with the Illusionists’ victims. Either the victims were knocked out or put to sleep in some way, which seemed to instantly nullify the hallucination, or the victims were captured and taken to the police station to allow the quirk’s effects to naturally run their course.

Considering the heroes really wanted the victims brought in as peacefully as possible, it had been no surprise to Shouta when the other heroes started calling him in for assistance. Especially when the victims’ hallucinations caused them to fight back.

Such as, apparently, this one.

Shouta sprinted around a corner, panting. The cool night air brushed against his face, chilling his skin. He glanced down at his phone, only to see that Wood’s location had moved once again.

Which meant that the unstable, overpowered victim was on the move. 

Wonderful.

Just then, his phone lit up.

Shouta didn’t wait to see who it was. “What is it?”

“Eraserhead,” Kamui Woods said. “We’re going to lead him to you. Meet us over by the abandoned antique warehouse. And keep your phone on you, he’s a flight risk. Literally.”

“Understood. Any injuries?”

“A few civilians, but medics are already on it. Nothing serious.”

“Good.”

Shouta hung up and changed his course. He weaved between buildings, kicking up water as puddles splashed at his feet. 

If the heroes needed to lure the kid so far away from people, then things weren’t looking good. 

Which meant that he needed to end this. Now. 

But he didn’t make it to the warehouse. Not before a flying, glowing figure appeared through the wall, crashing into him first.

On instinct, Shouta activated his quirk and sent his capture weapon to the glowing figure, but his quirk had no effect. As soon as the scarf landed on the boy, he jerked away, phasing the scarf through his body.

Shouta blinked, deactivating and reactivating the quirk again. But just like the before, nothing happened. The figure—the boy—just continued to float in the air, his glowing green eyes staring wildly into the hero as if Shouta were the most terrifying human on Earth. He raised his hand, and a neon green swirling ball began to form around his fist.

“Watch out!” a voice behind him yelled.

Aizawa ducked just in time. The green blast hit the wall just above him, burning into the bricks like acid.

“Eraserhead, hurry!” Best Jeanist yelled.

Shouta tried again to activate his quirk, but it was no use.

The boy screamed, powering up an even bigger blast than last time.

“Eraserhead!”

Tree roots shot out in front of Shouta just in time. The blast hit Kamui Woods’ shield, splintering the roots and sending pieces flying through the air.

“Shit!” Shouta deactivated his quirk and jumped back, falling in line with the heros. “He’s resistant to my quirk!” 

“We need to get him away from the residential area,” Best Jeanist said. “Force him to the industrial complex.”

“You’re not forcing me anywhere,” the teen roared back in a thick accent. His white glow ebbed and flowed around him as if he were drunk. “I won’t let you get me!”

“What is he seeing?” Shouta asked the three heroes behind him.

“A kidnapping of some sort,” Hound Dog replied.

“He keeps referring to us as ‘Operatives’. We’re unsure what that means.”

Apparently their talking only angered the glowing teen further. He raised a fist and his eyes brightened, changing from green to blue. “You’re not taking me!”

“Go!” Best Jeanist shouted.

The heroes jumped out of the alley just as the teen released the glowing blue energy ball, coating the pavement in a shockwave of jagged ice.

“How many quirks does this kid have?” Kumai Woods exclaimed.

Aizawa landed on the roof and released his capture weapon. “Doesn’t matter. Get him to the warehouse. I have a plan, but I have to make a call first.”

“Got it!”

The heroes jumped off the roof, chasing the kid out the alley and through another building.

“Don’t lose him!” Hound Dog yelled, running around the corner after him.

Shouta stayed back, pulling out his phone and pressing one of his emergency contacts. He watched as another blue beam glowed from a few blocks over, followed by a burst of green.

What the hell is that kid? 

He couldn’t believe what he’d witnessed. The kid could talk, could communicate, and yet he had multiple quirks? In the ten seconds Shouta had seen him, he was witness to flight, phase-shifting, glowing, cryokinesis, a green energy beam, and immunity to Shouta’s quirk. 

And yet, the kid wasn’t a nomu. He had intelligence. He seemed like he could have been a regular teen. A glowing one, sure, but a regular teen nonetheless.

So how did he end up with multiple quirks? And how did he become the Illusionist’s latest target? The Illusionist had only ever targeted homeless adults before. How did this teen get caught up in the mix?

Unless he was homeless himself.

The ringing stopped, and a tentative voice picked up from the other line. “Sensei?” 

Shouta breathed a sigh of relief. “Shinso, I need you to come to the field. I’ll send you a location. We need your quirk.”

“My quirk?” Shinso asked, disbelief evident in his voice.

One day Shouta would crack through that massive layer of insecurity Shinso still clung onto about his quirk.

“Illusionist hit a kid with multiple quirks. We can’t get near him and he’s resistant to my quirk. We need you to subdue him. Put him to sleep.”

“Okay. I’ll be there soon.”

“Sending a location now.”

Shouta hung up and forwarded his location before darting over to the scene, using the sound of the kid’s frantic attacks as his GPS. 

His feet pounded on the concrete. His quirk and capture weapon may have been useless against the kid, but that was fine. All he had to do was stall for time before Shinso could subdue him.

There was a loud bang, followed by a crash. Shouta skidded around the block and, using his weapon, launched himself onto a nearby roof.

There was a large hole in the side of a building that thankfully appeared to be empty. Dust clouded the air, but through it Shouta could see the kid backing into the building like a cornered animal, his arms raised and glowing a threatening acid green.

Kumai woods stepped forward slowly, his arms raised above his head. “We don’t want to hurt you!

“Don’t—don’t come another step!” The teen growled, stumbling to the side. His voice had an odd, echoing quality to it. “I’ve escaped your stupid compound once, and I’ll do it again!”

Shouta jumped down from the roof, landing in front of the heroes. He crouched down, trying to appear as non threatening as possible. “What compound?” 

The kid let out a bitter laugh. “Don’t act stupid! You were gloating enough last time!”

“We’re not going to take you to a compound,” Kumai Woods tried.

But reasoning with someone under the Illusionist’s influence was futile. Heroes and police officers had attempted it before, and it never worked.

“I’m not an idiot! I know what you do to people like me!”

Shouta froze, alarm bells going off in his head. Something was just... wrong. On a fundamental level, something wrong had happened to this kid. And based on the way his eyes darted around the empty room, he looked about a second away from making an escape.

Okay, Shouta had to stall. If the kid thought that the heroes were kidnappers, then maybe he could draw this out.

He tilted his head questioningly. “Sorry, I’m new here.” He felt his coworkers’ eyes burning against the back of his skull. “I wasn’t here for the last time.”

The kid’s distorted eyes locked onto him. “I’m sure you’ve read the reports.”

“Haven’t had time, actually. This is my first day.”

“You’re still wearing the suit. You’re still with them.”

Shouta stared at him for a moment. The kid’s stark white hair floated as if defying gravity, and the glow around him had almost an ethereal presence. But what stood out the most to him was his clothing. He was dressed like something out of a laboratory. His suit was thin and rubbery, with rubber gloves and boots to match.

He was definitely the product of a science experiment. There was no doubt about it. Likely a trafficked kid taken from another country and transported here for human experimentation.

Aizawa felt sick.

“Where are you from?” he asked.

“You know where.”

“I told you, this is my first day. I just moved here. I don’t know you yet.”

Apparently, that wasn’t good enough for the teen. “I’m not saying anything. You can ask Operative K over there.” He nodded towards Best Jeanist.

“What sorts of things did they do to you? Last time?” 

“I—I don’t—” the teen stuttered, the green glow flickering out from his fists. He clamped his hands over his ears. “Shut up!”

“I don’t want to do those things,” Shouta continued. “I don’t want to...use you like that.”

“It doesn’t matter. If you’re with them, you’re here to take me. And I can’t, I can’t do that again. I’ll never let you take me. I’m smarter than your whole organization and you know it.” His eyes brightened with a frantic energy, warping until one eye was green and the other blue. “I’ve escaped from your stupid white compound once, and I’ll do it again.”

Aizawa rose slowly. 

This wasn’t looking good.

Hurry up, Shinsho. 

The kid raised his arms, and a swirling mass of green and blue encased his fist, traveling up his forearms and swallowing his elbows. It pulsated and grew, casting a shadow over the teen’s face.

“Eraserhead!” Hound Dog warned.

“I’m not going quietly.”

Shouta readied himself to dodge when a flash of purple caught his eye.

“Hey kid!” Shinso called out.

Glowing green and blue snapped over to the source of the new voice. “What?” he hissed.

Shouta could almost see the satisfied smirk under Shinso’s mask. 

“Go to sleep.”

The effect was immediate. The mass of energy faded from the kid’s hands, leaving only his natural white glow. He lowered himself to the ground until his toes were touching the cement, then his knees, and finally his head. Then, just when his eyes fluttered close, a white ring appeared at his waist, traveling up his body replacing the glowing, ethereal teen with a small European looking boy. 

“Whoa,” Shinso breathed.

Despite the protests behind him, Shouta slowly made his way over to the teen. His white hair had changed to black, and his skin had lost its glow completely. His laboratory clothes had been replaced with ripped jeans and a dirty white and red shirt. 

He looked...plain. Boring and scrawny. If Shouta hadn’t witnessed the terrifying figure just moments ago, he could have passed the boy off as just a quirkless kid.

Whatever he was, he was asleep.

“Good job, Hitoshi,” he said, turning back around to face the heroes. Not to his surprise, his husband and other child were among the group. “Present Mic, Todoroki,” he greeted.

Hizashi—ever the optimist—gave Shouta a cheerful wave along with a chipper, “Hello!” while Shouto stood quietly behind the heroes.

“Who is he?” Shinso asked, eyeing the sleeping teen warily. 

Best Jeanist made his way over to the group. “Some kid with multiple quirks. Likely from experimentation. With his amount of quirks, we have no idea what he’s like mentally. We need to get him to the police.”

“We sent them your location already. They should be here soon,” Hizashi said.

“Good.” 

Shouta gave the kid one last glance. 

What happened to him?

---

It didn’t take long before the police, led by Detective Tsukauchi, arrived at the scene. They were able to get the kid into quirk inhibitors, load him into the back of a car, and bring him into the station before he woke up.

Yamada brought the boys back home before meeting him at the station. Shouta made a mental note to grab Shinsho his favorite take-out meal tomorrow for his immaculate quirk usage.

When they arrived at the station, they brought a couch into one of the interrogation rooms, put the kid on it, and waited.

Shouta almost felt bad for him. It would have been scary for anyone to wake up after a traumatic hallucination wearing quirk inhibitors in a cold, unfeeling room. But unfortunately, nobody had known the extent of his quirks. Victim or not, he was still unstable.

Aside from sitting upright, the kid hadn’t moved an inch, and he couldn’t seem to be able to pass the inhibitors through his body like he had with Shouta’s capture weapon.

Which was good. That meant that the quirk inhibitors were doing their job.

Shouta stared at him through the one-way mirror. He’d been half expecting the same frantic energy from the teen boy as before, but the teen just sat there quietly. His slumped body language screamed resigned, while his eyes were slowly shifting around the room as if to memorize every speck of dust in the air.

“You would never suspect that kid would have multiple quirks,” Yamada said next to him. “He just looks so...tiny.”

Aizawa took a large gulp of his much-needed coffee. “And yet, he does.”

The door behind them opened, and a woman stepped through. She stopped in front of Detective Tsukauchi. “He’s not registered. We scanned the database and found no record of anyone with multiple quirks that fit his description. In addition, we ran the sample of the green substance from his projection quirk and couldn’t find any matches to any known compounds on record. We’ve sent the samples out for further testing.”

“No matches?” Shouta asked. 

“Interesting.” Detective Tsukauchi said. He turned towards the interrogation room’s door. “I believe it’s time to talk to our victim. Suzuki, I want you to stay outside. I think having more than one adult in the room may scare him off. Use your quirk, though. I have a feeling our victim may be a bit wary.”

The woman nodded and stationed herself next to Shouta. She stared at the boy, blinked, and then her eyes began to glow.

“It’s showtime.”

The moment the doorknob moved, the black haired teen’s body language shifted to something more alert, more guarded. His blue eyes tracked Tsukauchi’s movements until the detective had sat down in his metal chair.

“Hello,” he said. “I’m Detective Tsukauchi. Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble today. Would you like some water?”

The teen didn’t respond.

“Do you remember what happened?”

Based on previous victims’ responses, they had always been able to remember the hallucinations, but they couldn’t recall their actions or where they were during those times.

“It’s okay if you don’t. Again, you’re not in trouble.”

But the kid wasn’t relaxing. If anything, he looked more guarded than before. “If I’m not in trouble, then why am I here?”

“You were hit by a quirk,” he explained. “Have you heard of the Illusionist?”

The teen shifted. “Maybe.”

“He’s a villain who makes people experience their worst fears.”

A spark of recognition hit the boy’s eyes, but it was quickly masked by the previous reserved expression. “So I got hit.”

“Yes. So far his targets have all been random attacks.” Tsukauchi opened his manila folder, pulling out photographs and handing them to the teen. “This was from earlier tonight. Do you remember any of this?”

He scanned the photographs, and Aizawa watched as the color drained from the teen’s face. He stared at the folder in silence for a moment before his shaky voice said, “If I’m not in trouble, I’d like to leave.”

“We just have a few questions we’d like to ask in order to help us catch him.”

“I want to leave.”

Detective Tsukauchi seemed unphased by the kid’s request. “Alright, can I get your name? We can call your parents to come pick you up.”

As expected, the teen didn’t like this. He shoved the photographs back into Tsukauchi’s hands, leaned back against the couch, and crossed his arms. “I’m eighteen. Can I go now?”

“He’s lying,” Detective Suzuki whispered next to them.

Recognition sparked in Shouta’s brain. He remembered her, she had a Lie Detection quirk. It was quite useful for police work.

“In that case, we were unable to obtain any record of any adult with your quirk combinations. Japanese law dictates that every citizen must be registered in our quirk database. So if you are unregistered, then we’d need to go through the registration process before we can release you.”

“I’m not a Japanese citizen.”

“You here on vacation?”

The kid glared to the wall. “Something like that.”

“American?”

“Yeah.”

“How long have you been visiting?”

The teen shrugged.

Tsukauchi jotted something down in his notebook. “Then I’d need to see your passport and visitor’s documentation for the official record, since you are now a victim in an ongoing investigation.”

The teen’s eyes narrowed, and he slumped down further into the cushion. “I don’t have any.”

“What happened to it?”

The teen shrugged.

Yamada leaned into Shouta’s ear. “He’s backed into a corner.”

“Yup,” Shouta took another swig at his coffee. “He can’t get out of this one.”

The teen huffed, frustration and a tint of fear strewn across his features. He ran a hand through his messy black hair. “Listen, can I just go? I don’t remember anything, okay? I was just sleeping and then all of the sudden I...I...he got me. But I swear I wasn’t doing anything, and I didn’t see his face.”

Detective Tsukauchi nodded compassionately. “I’m very sorry that this happened to you. It’s a very vivid and traumatic experience to go through. Unfortunately, we’re in a bit of a bind currently seeing as you are either an unregistered quirk user, or you have no proof that you’re in this country legally. Now if it’s true that you’re eighteen, we can’t let you leave without contacting the US embassy to get your identification.”

Any color left in the teen’s face vanished. “What if...what if they can’t identify me?”

“Can’t identify you? For what reason?”

The teen stood suddenly and walked over to the wall. His hands trembled, and he looked downright terrified.

Who was he scared of?

He picked at the ragged hem of his shirt. “I don’t—I’m not exactly…they—they just don’t know I exist.”

Shouta glanced at Suzuki, who seemed perplexed. 

“Is he telling the truth?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Suzuki said. “I don’t know how it’s possible, but he at least believes that he doesn’t have citizenship in Japan or the United States.”

“Even though he’s American.”

“Exactly.”

Aizawa’s brows furrowed, and he looked back at the teen, who was pressed up against the wall wringing his wrists with his fingers.

“Can you give me your name?” Detective Tsukauchi asked.

The teen bit his lip. “Uh it’s—it’s…” His voice was strangled. “It’s Danny Fenton.”

“He’s telling the truth.”

Detective Tsukauchi gave him a comforting smile. “Okay, Danny. And do you know where you were born?”

“Uh…The United States.”

“But, and correct me if I’m wrong, you have no birth certificate? And no documentation to show legal entry to Japan?”

“I—yeah.”

“And you’re here in Japan now. Where have you been staying exactly?”

Danny’s eyes darted around the room. “I don’t know...around?”

“Okay,” Detective Tsukauchi shut his manila folder and stood. “Again, you’re not in trouble. You were a victim of a very serious crime, and we’re here to help you. I’m going to make a quick call, and I’ll be right back. The door’s unlocked if you need anything.”

If anything, that only made Danny look more anxious than before. He nodded, his face sheet white, and he tugged at the inhibitors on his wrists.

“What’s gonna happen to him?” Yamada asked quietly. He was dressed in his civilian clothes, and his hair was thrown up into a messy low bun. Without his uniform, his compassion towards the child shined out like a beacon. 

It was one of the many qualities that Shouta loved about him. His strong sense to protect the innocent, his caring nature to kids and those who were vulnerable in society, and the kindness he radiating from his being were qualities that were rare even among heroes. 

“We’ll contact the US embassy, but if the boy’s telling the truth and he doesn’t have a social security number or birth certificate, then he’ll get picked up by Musutafu’s social services and he’ll be put into the system.”

Yamada stared sadly at the child through the mirror. “He’ll just run away again.”

“He will,” Shouta agreed.

“I wish we could help him.”

Shouta sighed. “We can’t save everyone.”

“But you see it, don’t you?” Yamada asked. “There’s something going on that the kid’s not telling us. How else could he have gotten multiple quirks? Do you think it has anything to do with the League?”

Shouta glanced back at Danny, who was currently crouched against the wall with his head in his hands. He looked so small, so fragile. Aizawa could only wonder what events had led him here.

Just who was Danny Fenton? 

“Shouta, we can’t let him out on his own. We just can’t.”

Shouta sighed, running his thumb along the side of his coffee cup. “I know,” he said.

And he meant it.

---

“So…” Shouta started. 

Danny just looked tired. 

It had been a long night. Detective Tsukauchi got a hold of the US embassy’s emergency line, but they didn’t have any records of a Danny Fenton that had left the United States, nor did they have a single missing children’s report of a Danny Fenton, nor could they supposedly dig up any information of a Danny Fenton based on the information that Danny himself supplied, specifically that he was born in Illinois in a city called Amity Park.

It was as if he didn’t exist.

Detective Suzuki’s quirk was powerful, and it didn’t seem like Danny was able to fool it. After he met her and she explained her quirk to him, he finally admitted he was only fifteen. So then who was this kid? If he was from Amity Park, why did the United States have no record of him?

The heroes knew he had parents, but apparently—and Suzuki confirmed this—they’d disowned him, giving him to some shady organization. Danny wouldn’t say to who ended up with custody of him, but from what they’d been able to piece together, it hadn’t been good.

And any further digging just resulted in Danny clamming up.

So Danny was a runaway, one that apparently didn’t exist in either country he had lived in. And there was something out there that had terrified him into escaping to Musutafu and hiding here.

But he wouldn’t say what.

Regardless, the Musutafu police department now had a case of a minor in Japan who didn’t have any parents, guardians, or any known relatives in the country, nor did he have any record of housing at any point.

It was as if this kid were a ghost or something.

“What’s gonna happen to me?” Danny asked, hugging himself in his chair.

He seemed smaller up close. Too small.

“Well, social services will take you and place you in foster care,” Shouta responded.

“Oh…” Danny looked down. “You know...you’ve seen my powers. I’ll just disappear the moment we leave this building.”

Shouta raised his brows.

Of course, they all knew it. But the kid certainly had guts for admitting it out loud.

“Who are you running from?” Shouta asked.

Danny blinked at his bluntness. “No one.”

Shouta leaned in. “Is it the League of Villains? Are you connected with them?”

Danny’s arms shot out from his sides, waving frantically in front of his face. “No! No, I swear! I’m not a villain!”

“I didn’t say that.” 

“I…” Danny looked lost. 

“You have multiple quirks. That’s something the league’s been experimenting with. And they’re not shy about using real people to do so.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say. I’ve never met them.”

“But you weren’t born with multiple quirks,” Shouta said. “Something happened that made you this way.”

He could see as all the pieces slowly crumbled inside Danny. The kid went from looking confused, to downright terrified. 

Bingo.

Aizawa’s instincts never failed him.

“Please, just let me go,” Danny begged. “I promise I won’t do anything. Please don’t hurt me.”

Shouta’s eyes widened. “Kid, slow down. I’m not here to hurt you. Okay? I’m on your side.”

That didn’t seem to help Danny at all.

Shouta set his arms on the table where Danny could see them. “You know, one of my foster kids has multiple quirks.” It was a half lie, but he didn’t think that Shouto would mind.

Sure enough, that seemed to pique Danny’s interests. “Really?”

“Yeah. Great kid, about your age. His father was experimenting with creating children who could house multiple quirks to offset his own quirk’s disadvantages, and my foster son came out of it. Just like you, he spent a lot of his life hiding too. He was alone, and scared. He didn’t know what to do or who he could trust, so he just hid.”

“What changed?” Danny asked.

“He asked for help,” Shouta said. “And we were able to bring him into a stable home.”

Danny’s eyes clouded over, and his face transformed into one of longing. As if he were visiting a memory that had long since abandoned him.

“We can get you that help too if you ask for it.”

“I...I can’t…”

Shouta sighed. “How long are you going to keep hiding? Running? Are you really okay with spending the rest of your life out on the streets?”

Danny ducked his head down. “It’s not so bad,” he muttered.

“But kid, you deserve so much more than that.”

The teen’s shoulders shuddered. He sniffed, and his hand shot up to wipe his eye.

Shouta refused to look away from him. “I don’t know how you got here, I have no idea what you’ve been through, but I know that you didn’t deserve it, and that regardless of what you think, you deserve a safe place to go home to.”

“I...I…” he croaked, curling into himself. Tears splashed onto his cheeks. 

“You’re strong, you’ve done so much alone. Now we can help you.”

“I can’t…”

“You can, Danny.”

At that, Danny broke. He squeezed his eyes shut, twisting his hoodie in his hands. Shouta watched as he tried to muffle his sobs, but he couldn’t. His body shook as his emotions poured into the open.

Shouta didn’t know how long this kid had been holding it all in. Just how many days, weeks, months had he been shoving everything down, too focused on surviving each day to be able to stop and feel?

Pain stabbed Shouta’s heart. He remembered that torment all too well, one of homelessness, of abuse, of not knowing where his next meal was coming from and fighting for the bare necessities. Although he wasn’t so much of a soft, touchy-feely guy himself, right now he wanted nothing more than to reach over and hug the crying teen.

When it seemed like Danny was finally able to pull himself together, Shouta leaned in and asked, “Will you let me help you, Danny?”

Danny scrubbed at his eyes and nodded.

“If you want,” he said, making sure to articulate each word clearly. “I can assist you in getting placed in a good home. There’s another option too.”

“Yeah?”

“The other option is you can stay with me.”

Danny stilled, his eyes shooting open and his lips dropping to form a small ‘o’.

“My husband and I have a city approved foster home, and we also happen to have an open bed at the moment. Given your unique situation, I have the option of housing you if you’ll let me.”

Danny didn’t respond. He just continued to stare at Shouta in shock.

“Of course,” Shouta said quickly. “If you are uncomfortable with that, and it’s okay if you are, there are other good foster homes out there that I personally know and can get you placed in. It’s whatever you prefer.”

The teen closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he finally looked back at Shouta, he had that same longing expression as before. “If it’s alright...could I stay with you? At least for a little while?”

The corners of his lips tugged up. He remembered all too well when Yamada turned to him just before Shouta was about to age out of the foster system and asked him if he wanted to move in together. He remembered the shock, the surprise that anyone could possibly care that much about him, that anyone would want to live with him.

And now, he had a family. One that was about to become a little bigger.

“Of course. I’d love to have you.”

---

Thanks for reading!

[check out some of my other fics]

[missinghan]

cold sun ⤖ han jisung

❖ genre : soulmate au; fluff; angst

❖ word count : 2,6k.

❖ warning : slight swearing

❖ summary : in a world where one will lose something if their soulmate doesn’t reciprocate their words of love once they turn sixteen, jisung is willing to take the risk so you won’t have to bear the burden.

❖ note : i just realized how i always tend to write for jisung when i'm down :')) anywho this piece is a little different than what i usually come up with but i hope y'all enjoy it ♡

It’s the first day of the week.

“Hey, Y/N. I like you!”

And Han Jisung is really annoying.

Those words come out so easily. It's casual in a way that makes you bury your red nose deeper into the soft fabric of your scarf, which makes your footsteps quicken unknowingly as his voice chases after you loudly. Either way, this isn’t the first time Jisung has said so. In fact, it’s become a habit for him to remind you every other day.

There’s no particular reason why. Or at least that’s what you think.

It’s the end of the week. Jisung decides to hang himself upside down on your bed while you’re stressing over a presentation. “Hey, Y/N.” A cold winter breeze comes rushing against the perplexing glass of your window, shaking the frame violently before all motions come to silence.

Until, “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he creeps up from behind you and chirps into your ear.

“What?” you let out a groan of displease when tempting warmth embraces you whole, prompting you to drop your attention and looking over your shoulder.

Jisung pouts, “You didn’t answer me.”

“It’s because you’re annoying,” you sigh.

“Answer me when I call your name,” he pulls you in a fraction tighter, careful enough not to hurt you but firm to not let you slip away at the same time, and cradles your neck warmly, “So I’d know that you’re still here with me.”

“Alright, stupid.”

The all too familiar gummy smile returns instantly. “Hey, Y/N?”

And you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Yes, Jisung?”

“I like you,” he giggles into the hug, “I like you a lot.”

Han Jisung really is annoying.

He’s annoying because he talks too much. He’s annoying because of how he always asks for your notes after a gaming night with Felix just to nap in class. He’s annoying because he’d drop you in a heartbeat for a single slice of cheesecake from Jeongin’s mom’s bakery. He’s annoying because of how well he can get along with everyone.

Chatty, down-to-earth, easy-going with a lovable smile—attractive, very attractive.

It’s the week after that. “What...happened?”

“He lost his voice,” Jeongin sighs, looking like he genuinely wants to facepalm himself against concrete while walking with an incoherent Jisung to school; expressive hands with his mouth agape and all.

You tilt your head, “...for real?”

“For real.”

After a few seconds of eyeing Jisung struggling with converting what’s in his head, you exhale deeply and quickly rummage through your backpack, “Just stop, you look ridiculous.” And he does just that, zipping his mouth metaphorically and giving you those typical puppy eyes. “Here, use this.”

His eyes light up like stars when you rip off a page from one of your notebooks and offer it to him along with a pen. Truth is, you’re expecting something as predictable as ‘I like you’ or ‘It’s alright it’s just the worst cold I’ve ever caught’. But then, what’s displayed on the piece of paper right now only baffles you.

Park is going to murder you if he sees some uglyass tear in your Ochem notes :)

A forced grin splits your lips open. “Not if I murdered you first and then the entire school and then myself.”

The first genuine smile blossoms on his lips when you give him a mini-sized notepad and pencil the day after—his sixteenth birthday.

And Jisung decides this is it.

It happens when the sun hasn’t even come out yet and the irritating blue light from his phone reads 5:32 AM.

It happens when he sees your reclined figure leaning back against his mattress, his pupils tracing your delicate features. Perplexed emotions fill his eyes to the brim, fulfillment bursting within his chest when you stare right back at him with such purity. So pure that it seems you can do no harm to him and neither can he.

“Hey stupid,” you murmur quietly, shoving a notepad and pencil against his chest, “Happy birthday.”

Jisung gives you a bright smile, opens his mouth, and snaps it close mere moments later. Sixteenth birthday. Early in the morning. Tired grins. The fondness of being so disgustingly in love.

He can’t help but lean in and caves into the taste his soul has longed for as long as he can remember.

Two weeks have passed since Jisung has lost his voice.

Nothing has differed if you’re being completely honest. Han Jisung is still annoying. His lack of ability to speak doesn’t appear to be a problem to him at all. He loves chatting with people even though he’s more of a listener now. But with the small notepad you gave him a few days ago, being socially active is the norm for him even now.

Thanks to his rather short-period experiences of observing people’s expressions and how their features contort in certain ways when they’re feeling certain emotions, Jisung catches onto your mood more quickly during bad days to help you release your inner turmoil by scribbling down something stupid on the notepad. It’s kinda nice like this, you’d think to yourself sometimes.

Other times, you’re more scared that you might have forgotten what his voice sounds like.

“No wonder you got a fucking cold. Stop taking midnight showers already.”

You wave Jisung over when he closes the wooden door to your bedroom, droplets dripping from his hair as he scratches his stomach tiredly. His hair is a mess when he lazily crawls onto your bed, the cushion beside you dips slightly.

His index finger pointing at his post-shower head and a shit-eating grin are all you need to snatch the white towel around his neck.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” you mumble while rubbing the cotton fabric into his hair, “But you’re awfully upbeat for someone who’s lost their voice. Can’t you at least pretend to be sad about it?”

A noise of protest escapes his throat like second nature as your eyes carefully read the quick movements of his mouth. “And can you not be so mean to someone who’s lost their voice?”

A faint smirk creeps its way up to your lips. “Still like me now?”

Jisung thinks hard for a few moments before jumping out of bed to snatch his notepad from your studying area. Of course, I like you. I like you a lot. Your heartbeat momentarily spikes at his scrawny handwriting. Just when your gaze is averted away to cool the blush on your cheeks, he tugs at your sleeve again and points at a different mess of scribbles. You’re more gentle when I’m like this. And you’d always find me if I ever got into trouble. What’s there for me to be sad about?

“Annoying little shit,” you swallow your pride and let him settle his head against your chest.

His presence melts into yours during the hardest hours of the twenty-four, heartbeats on heartbeats and warmth on warmth. Your one regret is that you’re unable to register his tears that night, only the incoherent, breathless hiccups almost as to desperately call out your name.

It’s been a month since Jisung’s lost his voice. And the night when he kisses you for the second time, his notepad is long forgotten next to your pillow.

I-can’t-talk. Give-me-a-break.

Jeongin. Cheesecake. Please? Pretty please?

I’ll fucking kick you.

Wait, there’s homework?!

...so you’re telling me LMAO isn’t how French people laugh?

“This is what you’ve been doing during breaks huh…” you mumble under your breath while lazily flipping through the papers. The occasional ‘I like you’-s do pop up every two pages or so, which is more than enough to make you smile like an idiot. But that is until a peculiar paragraph yanks your attention by its neck and tosses it against a brick wall.

Mom, promise me you’re not going to cry.

He made auntie cry?!

I lost my voice for real now but it wasn’t supposed to be like that at first. I just wanted to mess with Y/N and freak her out for a day.

I’m seriously going to punch him.

She was a lot softer toward me after that, you know. I know it’s extremely selfish of me but I just can’t help being so happy. I’m sorry, mom. I really am.

Han Jisung you fucking idiot.

I was going to surprise her on my birthday by saying ‘good morning’ out loud but nothing came out. My voice was gone.

Guilt, anger, remorse take over you. You knew nothing of this. You never once questioned for a logical reason behind the loss of his voice and kept moving onward as if it’s not that big of a deal. You didn’t suspect it as a kind of prank, either. But you still care, all this time! You have been doing everything in your power as a way for both you and Jisung to treasure himself even if he can’t speak anymore.

I went to a check-up last week. Nothing came up. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.

However, without fail, the obnoxious part of you will keep wandering back to the concept of soulmates that has been engraved so deeply into the society you’re living in. It makes no sense to you that Jisung lost his voice for no reason right before his sixteenth birthday. This explains it all now.

It’s going to be okay, mom. Because I have Y/N. I know she would come running toward my side over and over again even if she can’t hear me anymore. I really don’t know what I’d do without her in my life.

Jisung knew the penalty for being the first to exchange any words of love yet he still did it. And you were too busy overlooking that stupid pride of yours to say those three words back.

It’s getting to the point where I’m starting to forget what I used to sound like. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.

Jisung fixes the strap of his backpack, looking up at his mom after slipping into his sneakers. She ruffles his bed head and hands him a small white box with Jeongin’s bakery’s signature logo on it.

He tilts his head in faint confusion, peering at the box of pastry in his arms.

“Give it to Y/N on the bus, okay? Her parents aren’t home right now. You know how she would always skip breakfast when they’re out of town.”

His eyes light up instantly in realization and Jisung nods, preparing to bid her farewell. Just then, his front door comes flying open. It can’t be a mere acquaintance because there are very few people other than his parents and himself who know of the spare key hidden under the welcome mat.

As Jisung turns around, he’s keenly aware of your teary eyes already trained on him. Which in hindsight, makes no sense. As a result, panic rises within the hollowness of his chest, his lips falling agape but no coherent words come out.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” his mom flinches, slightly caught off guard, “Is everything okay?”

A scowl stretches over your contorted features as you shut the door loudly. “What the hell is this?” you question, shoving the familiar notepad into his chest. “A prank? A prank?! Do you think that this is funny?”

Jisung’s frantic eyes move to read the paper and every single color on his face drains tremendously. He easily recognizes the peculiar paragraph by how much lighter the ink is compared to the rest of the messy lines because his pen was running low and his hand couldn’t stop shaking.

Your voice.

His eyes avert back to look at you. His brows furrow timidly and shaky breaths burst from his lips almost like a desperate cry for help. There’s too much he wants to say, too many things to explain, and too many questions running through his head that he can’t process what to do next. He might just overwhelm both you and himself.

I need to hear it again.

And you might not stay by his side this time.

“Okay, don’t answer me then, I guess,” you chuckle lowly, dipping your head and turning around.

Jisung grabs at your sleeve instinctively and drops the pastry box, his gaze empty and all too knowing. Sorrow glazes over his starry eyes when it starts becoming hard to breathe properly. The outlines of his lips are moving non-stop yet nothing comes following after that.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you rasp out and tug at his hand. Then it hits you. He’s like this because of you. Jisung lost his voice because of you.

His mom cuts into the conversation, “Y/N, you don’t understand!”

“I’m sorry, auntie,” you smile sadly and take off running into the streets.

You, in the midst of your self-loathing and guilt, allow your feet to go wherever they want as your vision spirals into a blur. A single droplet threatens to fall when a forceful hand yanks you back to reality.

It takes Jisung a moment to regain his regular breathing pace. And when he finally gets it, all he can do is call out to you with the same inaudible sounds and the same desperation in his eyes. It seems as though he’s fully aware that the prank was the stupidest, most irrational thing he’s ever done. But there’s more to the ocean within his eyes than just remorse.

“I already told you,” you clench your jaw and slap his hand away, “I don’t fucking know what you’re saying!”

A deep sigh. “Why am I mad? Of course, I’d be mad! It’s because of me that you lost your voice! It’s because I like you, too! Yet I never said it back… You lost your voice because of me! Don't you get it? Why can't you just hate me for the sake of it?!”

You miss his voice. You miss it a lot.

You want to hear it again. You want to hear him call you by your name. You want to stay up late and talk about anything to the ends of the Earth and back with him. You want him to be the obnoxious, chatty Han Jisung you've always known.

You miss how annoyingly loud he is.

“Y-Y...Y/N…!”

Jisung collapses onto his knees, a hand on concrete while the other is on his neck. His chest rises and falls unevenly, muffled noises of discomfort echoing deep down from his throat. Despite that, what you heard just now, is his voice.

“Answer me when I call your name. So I’d know that you’re still here with me.”

“I promised you, didn’t I,” you spread your arms and smile warmly, “That I’d always answer when you call my name. As long as I can still hear you, I will come running toward you over and over again. Doesn’t matter what it takes, doesn’t matter where you are.”

Jisung lifts his head and tears come rolling down on his cheeks. His throat feels swollen when he stutters with difficulties, trying to convey what’s in his head, “Y-Y/N, don’t- don’t go! Please don’t leave me...!”

“Come here,” you close your eyes with the widest grin on your lips, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Only when Jisung grows closer and throws his arms around you, sobbing into your uniform do you convince yourself that all of this isn’t a hallucination. The hug is a lot stronger than what you’d expect. First of all, you nearly fell over from the impact and your arms are pinned so tightly to your sides that you feel like your ribs are going to snap.

Everything is so overwhelming that all you can say is, “Ow.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles into your hair and loosens his arms a bit so you can loop your hands to the nape of his neck and hair.

“You’re so annoying, Han Jisung.”

He purses his lips, sniffling, “You tried to make me snap on purpose. Meanie.”

You quirk a playful brow, “Still like me now?”

“Yeah,” Jisung smiles, “A lot.”

Because he knows that he has you. Until every last star in the galaxy explodes as a supernova, Jisung has you.

[avengerscompound]

Small Gods: Spring Thaw - 2

Spring Thaw:  A Bucky Barnes Fanfic

Spring Thaw Masterlist | More Small Gods PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count:  2046

Warnings: nothing this chapter.

Synopsis: Bucky Barnes hates winter.  He always looks for the first signs of the ice thawing and new life growing.  When that desire for the end of winter brings to him the god of the spring thaw, he discovers a brand new reason to get through winter.

Chapter 2

Bucky arrived at the movies twenty minutes before he had arranged to meet you and then proceeded to mentally curse himself out the entire time because of how eager it made him look.  He was just considering leaving and coming back again so he could maybe come off as fashionably late when you appeared behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.

He jumped and spun around, instantly going into fight mode, and when he saw your slightly bemused expression, he instantly relaxed.  You were wearing another warm winter coat that looked impossibly spring-like.  This one was sky blue with daisies printed on it as if they were polka dots.  Your hat, scarf, and gloves were in a darker shade of blue, and on the side of your beanie was a crochet daisy that matched the ones on your coat.  “Hey, you’re early,” he said.

“So are you,” you said.

Bucky smiled sheepishly and ran his hand through the back of his hair.  “Yeah.  It’s been a while and I didn’t want to be late.”  He held out a bouquet of different colored tulips for you.  “I got you these.”

“Oh my,” you said, taking them and inhaling deeply.  “These are so out of season.  They must have cost a fortune.”

Bucky shrugged.  The bouquet did cost significantly more money than when he’d last bought a girl flowers, but as that was in 1943, he didn’t think it was fair to compare.  “It wasn’t so bad.  And I knew you’d like them.”

You leaned up and kissed his cheek.  Another first for this new life he had.  It felt like a static shock and he flinched a little, and then hoped to god you didn’t notice because he wanted there to be more of that.  He wanted that kind of physical affection that had been withheld for so long.  “I love them,” you said.  “Thank you.”

Bucky turned back toward the cinema and then debated what his next move should be.  He had the tickets.  Did he offer you his arm or just start walking?  There were so many new rules about dating and he realized he didn’t know any of them.  Did you hold doors and pull out chairs anymore?  Who paid for things?

While he was thinking, you slipped your hand into his and pulled him toward the cinema.  “Come on, slowpoke,” you said.

The warmth from your skin seemed to radiate out from you so that he could feel it through both his and your gloves.

“Do we need to buy tickets?”  You asked when you entered the building.

“I’ve got them,” he said.

You took off your gloves and shoved them in your coat and looked up at him.  “Then let me buy the candy.”

“Now that hardly seems fair,” Bucky said.  “The tickets were cheap.  You’ll have to mortgage your house for candy.”

You snorted.  It was an adorable sound but you quickly covered your face in embarrassment.  “Oh my god,” you mumbled.

Bucky laughed and rubbed your arm.  “That was cute, don’t worry.”

You shook your head.  “I can’t remember the last time I laughed like that,” you said.  “So now I’m gonna buy candy so I can pretend it never happened.”

He chuckled and followed you to the counter as you bought popcorn, jolly ranchers, and a couple of sodas before the two of you headed into the theater.  It was strange how familiar it felt to be on a movie date.  Like muscle memory.  He sat down in the assigned seat and you put your coat on your lap with the popcorn sitting in his.  There was the awkward start where you aren’t sure if you should be touching or not - not that there was much choice in such a confined space.  There was an accidental hand touch when both of you went for popcorn at the same time.  Then you snuggled into him during the sappy parts and even though having you pressed against him felt alien to him.  It felt familiar and comfortable and he put his arm around your shoulders and held you in a casual way he hadn’t done to anyone since before he was sent off to war.

It was dark when you both came out of the theater with your arm tucked in the crook of his.  “Do you want to get a bite to eat?”  He asked.

“I would love it.  Just something simple though,” you said.

He nodded and the two of you began walking down the street together.  “Thank you for this, Bucky,” you said as the two of you walked along.  “I never do this.”

“I’m pretty out of practice too,” Bucky admitted.

“Why is that?”  You asked.  “You seem like a natural.  Not to mention - you’re very handsome.”

Bucky looked at you, once again not sure if you were being completely honest with him or not.  Not just about not recognizing him, but about any of it really.  Questioning his reality had become second nature.  He was used to being lied to and used.  He was used to things being taken from him.  “You really don’t know who I am?”  He asked.

You stopped walking, a little startled, and looked him up and down.  “I don’t meet too many people, I know we haven’t met.”

“No,” Bucky said, shaking his head.  “I’m the winter soldier?”

“Winter…?”  You said, furrowing your brow.  “You control winter?”

Bucky laughed.  “No.  What?”

“Oh,” you said, relaxing a little.  “I don’t know what you're talking about.”

“Captain America’s friend?”  He asked, only to be met with the same look of confusion.  “The Avengers?”

“I’m so sorry,” you said.  “I don’t keep up with current popular culture.”

“You don’t know about the people disappearing and then the fight and them showing up five years later?”  Bucky asked.

“I mean… I know they all went away and came back, but I wasn’t…” you trailed off.

“Captain America?  Iron Man?  Thor?”

Finally, a glimmer of recognition reached your eyes and you smiled.  “You know Thor?”

“I mean, a little.  He’s a nice guy,” Bucky said.

“I know,” you said.  “He’s really funny.  Likes to fight a lot though.”

“Wait…” Bucky said.  “Do you know Thor?  Like you’ve met him?”

“Yes!  I’ve met him.  It was a long, long time ago,” you said, nodding enthusiastically.  “Are the gods… are we showing ourselves again?”

Bucky blinked at you.  “What do you mean ‘we’?”

You looked around and took his hand tugging him along.  “We should go somewhere to talk.”

He walked with you until you found a diner and the two of you ducked inside and slipped into a booth by the window.  You put your coat with your flowers beside you on the seat and neither of you said anything until the orders had been placed.

“It was easier back before,” you said as you began to play with the little tubs of half-and-half on the table.

“What was?”  Bucky asked.  “I don’t know what’s going on right now?”

“I’m a god, Bucky,” you said.

Bucky laughed.  He wasn’t even sure why because he knew a god.  He knew and had experienced far stranger things than gods.  But here, sitting in a diner with you, the thought just struck him as absurd.  “What?”

“Back before, when people were primitive and didn’t understand how things worked, we just walked with the mortals,” you said, answering a question he never asked as you looked out the window.  You turned your attention back to him and lay your palms flat on the table.  “I don’t know how to start the story.”

Bucky shook his head.  “The beginning?”

“That goes back to before I even was,” you said.  “And I don’t have all the story.  From what I understand, when the universe was born, the worlds were formed from a central point where all matter was one.  And then it exploded out in a mess of matter and energy.  Some of that energy you and I would call magic.  Some words, like Asgard and Olympus, were drenched in it…”

“Woah, hold up,” Bucky said.  “Olympus is real?”

“You’ve met Thor but you doubt the existence of the Greek Gods?”  You asked with your eyebrow raised.

“Right, okay,” Bucky said.  “Go on.”

“The magic on Earth is weaker and so the gods here are also weaker.  We came to be when people pray for us, even if that’s just a muttered hope, like “oh god let me pass this test,” you explained.

“So you’re telling me that there might be a god for the red light changing?”  Bucky asked.

You nodded.  “Oh yeah, they’re doing quite well for themselves.”

“That's…”  Bucky said and shook his head as he tried to absorb it.  “Not the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard,” he settled on.  “So what are you?”

“The spring thaw,” you said.

“What?  Like Persephone?”  Bucky asked.

“Well, no,” you said.  “For starters, she lives on Olympus and she’s way more powerful than I am.  And she covers all over Spring.  I’m just the part where the ice melts.  I was way stronger back before industrial farming.  People prayed to see the ice receding.  Now, it still happens but not with as much need.  Oh and also, when Persephone isn’t doing her thing, she has somewhere she goes.”

“What?  What does that mean?”  Bucky asked.  “Where do you go?”

You shrug. “I’m just not.”

“Not what?”

“Not anything,” you said.  “I’m here when people start wishing for the end of winter, and I’m gone when they stop.”

Bucky furrowed his brow and nodded.  “Would you believe me if I said I know how that feels?”

“Really?”  You asked.  “How?”

The waiter came over and placed their orders in front of them.  Bucky took a drink of his black coffee and wished it was something a little harder.  Not that alcohol would actually do anything.  “I guess I better start from the beginning too.”

As the two of you ate your meals, Bucky unloaded everything.  From when he was born, to going to war, to being captured by HYDRA and experimented on, not just once but twice.  About how they brainwashed him and had him commit unspeakable acts, and when they weren’t getting him to do these heinous things, they would freeze him, so that every time he woke he had no idea who he was or where he was or even what year it was.  How he’d broken out of it and had to adjust to life on the run 60 years after the last time he had control of his body.  How that had ended up going to shit and he’d opted to go on ice again because even that was better than living with what he had in his head.  How they managed to get HYDRA out and he was just settling into life again when Thanos happened and he’d just stopped existing.

The food was gone by the time he was done with the story and he was on his third cup of coffee.  He’d worry about staying up, but the caffeine would pass out of his system soon enough and besides, he didn’t sleep that great anyway.

You had listened intently, never interrupting, but the expression on your face told him how horrified and sad the story made you.  “... and then the Avengers stopped being a thing and I tried to cancel out some of my bad with a friend and then I moved here.”

You reached over and took his hand.  “I’m so sorry all that happened to you,” you said earnestly.  “And I can see why we were drawn to each other.”

“Why is that?”  Bucky asked.

“I bet you aren’t a big fan of the cold, huh?”  You asked.

He smiled and shook his head.  “No, you could say that.”

“Were you hoping for some sign of the thaw?”  You asked.  He smiled and nodded.  “And there I was.  I probably felt it too.”

“I’m glad you did,” he said.

“I’d like to see you again,” you said.  “Would that be alright?”

“How will that work if you’re only going to be here for such a short time?”  Bucky asked.

“Well,” you said thoughtfully. “I guess we’ll have to enjoy the brief time we have?”

// NEXT

[charmingwillow]

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

4. Jily in the rain. -

Sometime during Herbology, it had started raining. 

Lily skipped as she walked, splashing water and fallen, soggy leaves as she went. Autumn had descended; the grounds of Hogwarts and the Highland mountains surrounding it were aflame in reds, golds and oranges. Lily could taste the coming winter in the air; soon, the rain that she kicked up would turn to snow.

Pulling her scarf tighter, Lily made her way back to the castle, enjoying the chill and the coziness of her warm clothing— a novelty after a long, scorching summer. She let her breath come out in little puffs, like a train engine, and she smiled as they vanished to nothing before her. 

Her smile faded as she spotted a lone figure ahead, under the trees, just out the rain. Even from the distance she stood, she could see the mess of black hair sticking up— James. 

Lily stopped walking, her bag bumping hard against her thigh as she did. She spent a few seconds watching James before her feet started toward him, before she really wondered why she was going to him.

James was leaning against an old maple, its branches a shock of red above him. He seemingly stared at nothing, just the forest, misty from rain but glowing in color. The rich scent of earth and rain wrapped around Lily, but she watched James. 

He was calm in a way he never was— somber rather than animated. Dim rather than sparking with mischief. Nothing like she’d seen him before which seemed— odd. 

Why were the past few days so odd?

But the thing that made Lily speak up— “you’re not wearing a scarf.”

James startled so bad he almost toppled sideways, but he caught himself. When he saw her, he straightened and ran a hand through his damp hair. “Hiya, Evans.” He sounded a touch embarrassed and maybe the pink dusting his cheeks wasn’t just from the cold.

Lily frowned. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Ah.” James scratched the back of his neck and glanced away. “I mean, not really… what are you doing?”

Lily had set down her bag and was unwinding her own scarf from her neck; the little hairs there raised from the sudden cold, but she still held the warm bundle out to James.

“I’m going inside— but you look like you’re brooding, so. Here. Keep warm while you do.”

The words tumbled out faster than she knew what she was saying. By the time she was finished, she was blushing. Merlin, what was wrong with her these days?

James made no move to take her scarf; he blinked at it and belatedly, Lily remembered what he said at the library.

“Totally over her.”

“Prove it.”

Lily bit her lip, remembering James’ sudden, self imposed distance from her, and wondered why she even bothered now. Awkwardness washed over her, her face hot with embarrassment, and she’d decided to just go back inside and pretend she never offered—

“Thanks,” James said, taking the scarf. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and Lily shyly returned it.

[sunstar-of-the-north]

A Date With A Plumber

Bowser gently laid white cloths on the steaming bowls of food. While doing so he noticed that a fork was crooked. Alarmed, he quickly adjusted the utensil so it matched the rest of the dishes. The koopa then took a step back to analyze the table. It was set for two, one dish adjacent to the other at the end of the table. Bowser would have liked it if they were positioned across from each other but talking would be proven difficult with how long the table was.

He took a nervous sigh and moved to the mirror on the wall. His hair was a complete mess. Bowser smoothed it to the side with his clawed hands. Once he finished, he smiled proudly in the reflection. A second later though it reverted to its default look.

He growled in annoyance. The turtle then started to fix his silver cravat. He was wearing a maroon dinner tuxedo with a double lapel. He ditched most of his typical accessories, save for his bracelets. It was the compromise Bowser made with Kamek. He glared when he remembered the overwhelming amount of advice the old wizard gave him. “Don’t slouch over the table. Don’t talk with your mouth full. And DON’T for the love of the stars lose your temper!” He began to realize that instead of fixing his neckpiece, he was gripping it for dear life. Bowser let go of it in alarm. He groaned, lightly slapping his cheeks. “Pull yourself together Bowser,” he said in aggravation. “You’re the King of the Koopas! You have no reason to be all shaken up over one silly date!”

No matter how much he tried to convince himself, Bowser still felt like there were fighter flies in his stomach. Even though this was their third date, he was still a nervous wreck. Besides this one was different. Unlike the first two, which were at her house, this date was on his turf. Not to mention there would be a chaperon. “It’ll probably be that tomato colored Mario,” Bowser grumbled. That was a part of the agreement between the three of them. Whenever they would go out, there had to be someone—which was always picked for them by Mario—to keep an eye on the two. Panic hit him like a train when he realized he didn’t make a bowl for the red suited plumber. Before the turtle had time to think, he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turned; smoke escaping from the sides of his mouth. “WHAT?” The koopa troopa swallowed nervously.

“S-Sir? S-She’s here.”

Like a Bullet Bill out of a canon, Bowser charged passed the troopa, sending the poor thing flying. Thankfully his other minions were able to get out of their king’s way as he ran down the halls. In moments the twin doors were in sight. He slid to a halt, nearly blasting through them. Bowser took a moment to steady his breathing before opening them. His breath was cut short when the koopa saw who was standing on the steps. It was Luciana, adorned with a simple dark green dress with see-through lace sleeves. Her brunette hair, which was normally straight, was curled. When her blue eyes met Bowser’s, he felt like time stopped.

“Hellooooo? Earth to Bowser!”

Bowser snapped out of his daze when he noticed a hand waving near his face. He shook his head and looked back at Luciana. She seemed to be worried. “Is—everything alright?” He nodded rapidly. “Yeah! Yeah, everything is g-great!” She grinned in relief, causing Bowser’s heart to pound like a drum. “Buona!” There was an awkward silence between the two. The koopa then noticed the shorter woman was staring at him. “What? Is there something on my tux?” Luciana blushed in embarrassment. “N-No! I uh—your scarf thingy is all…” She motioned to his neck. He looked down and saw his cravat was still a mess. Bowser wanted to retreat back into his shell. The plumber inched closer to him, hand slightly raised. “Um—may I?”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise but squatted down at her request. She then tidied the cravat. “There! All better! Looks like all those years helping Mario with his ties came in handy!” She said with a chuckle. Bowser winced at the mention of her brother. Luciana picked up on his shift in mood, facing falling a bit. “O-Oh uh—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—“

“No, no! It’s ok…” Bowser realized that something was missing. “Speaking of, where is your chaperon? I was expecting him to be with you.” She gave him a playful smirk. “I was able to talk him out of it!” He was shocked and somewhat impressed. “How?”

“Well I told Mario that I’m a grown woman and he shouldn’t be treating me like a little kid. Besides I can handle myself!” She then flexed her arms with a semi-serious look on her face. Bowser cracked a smile, finding her display adorable. “After a long talk we came to an understanding.” She horizontally put her finger below her nose and spoke in a deeper tone. “Alright Luciana! You can go on your date alone. But you gotta come home at midnight! Even if you’re a minute late, I’ll break down those castle doors faster than you can say ravioli! And if that slime faced koopa tries anything funny, you take care of him like I showed ya. Got it?” Bowser chuckled, clapping his hands. “Perfect impression. 10 out of 10.”

She did a little curtsy in response. “Grazie!” Bowser leaned against the door frame, feeling a sense of relief knowing it was just the two of them now. “Man, who knew the String Bean could stand up to her brother like that. She keeps throwing surprises at me.”

Luciana started rocking back and forth on her heels. The king koopa realized that she was still outside. He nearly jumped out of her way, bowing deeply. “Pl-Please! Come in!” His sudden movement made the plumber flinch but relaxed once she passed the doors. Bowser followed her in.

Soon the two were in the dining hall. Bowser sped walk toward the table. He quickly pulled Luciana’s chair out for her, causing a loud squeak as he did. He winced at the sound but still gave her a smile. She smiled back and sat down after thanking him. Bowser scooted her chair toward the table and clapped his hands. The lights were turned down low. He then lit the table candle with his fire breath. “Che meraviglia!” Luciana whispered under her breath. “Hopefully that means something good,” he thought to himself. The turtle then brought his attention to the bowls. He gingerly took the white cloths off, steam pooling out from them. “Bon appétit!”

Luciana’s eyes grew to the size of moons. The bowls were filled with cooked rice and beef, a variety of different vegetables, and a fried egg to top it all off. Bowser couldn’t help but be smug with her reaction. She turned to him, eyes sparkling. “What is this?!” He sat down, resting his hands on the wooden table. “It’s called bibimbap.” Luigi scrunched her face as she tried to say the name. “Bimbi—bimbipab.” Bowser let out a hearty laugh at her attempt to pronounce the word. The plumber’s face turned a bright red. “Say it with me. Bi-bim-bap.” She repeated after the turtle, saying it correctly this time. “There ya go!” He gave her a toothy grin. She smiled back, twirling her hair with a finger. Bowser looked to the side with a bashful smile. “This—is one of my favorite dishes. I wanted to share it with you since you shared one of your favorites with me.”

He looked at the corner of his eye to see Luciana staring at him. He blushed, coughing into his hand. “What w-was that called again? Tor-tortilla gardinata?” Now it was Luciana’s turn to laugh. “Tortellini gratinati.” Bowser chuckled, scratching his head. “Yeah, that. Oh before I forget, here’s Gochujang if you want some.” He passed her a small bowl of red paste. The woman cocked her head at the little dish. “Gochujang?” Bowser nodded. “Yeah. It’s a red pepper paste. It gives the bibimbap an extra kick!” Her face lit up after hearing that. He gave her a wink. “I know how you like things a little spicy so I thought I would oblige.”

She giggled, sending a flurry of warmth to Bowser’s chest. “Grazie, grazie!” She at first picked up a fork but then eyed the chop sticks. “You can eat it with those?” Bowser raised an eye brow at her. “Uh yeah. That’s how you’re supposed to eat it.” She let out a soft oh in response. The koopa realized how harsh his tone was. He reprimanded himself in his head. “Um—I can—show you how to use them, if you want that is.” Luciana blinked at him and then smiled. “Sì! I always wanted to learn how to use them!” Bowser got up and moved to her side. He gently guided Luciana how to hold the utensil. The turtle noticed just how small her hand was compared to his. “They’re so tiny—so—delicate.” He looked at the woman, who was staring at their hands. She brought her gaze to him. When their eyes locked, they both blushed crimson. Bowser removed his hand and they both looked away from each other.

He stiffly walked back to his chair, sat down, and proceeded to stuff his face to hide his blushing. After a while he turned his eyes to the green dressed plumber. She was able to pick up a bit of vegetables and rice. Luigi dipped the food in the Gochujang and put it in her mouth. Her eyes lit up as she chewed more. She looked at Bowser with a big grin. “This is amazing! Please give my compliments to the chief!” Bowser glowed by her praise. “Thanks! I was worried that I might have over-cooked the carrots.” The woman raised her eye brows in surprise. “You made this?”

“Yeah! Cooking is one of the few things I like to do.”

“Don’t…you have cooks to make your meals?” Bowser shrugged. “Yeah, but sometimes I do the cooking, especially if it’s for one of my kids’ birthdays.” Luciana stared at him. “You…made this specially…for me?” Bowser was confused by her statement. “Of course! You’re my girlfriend! What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t make food for you?” Luciana’s face was red once more. Realization hit Bowser like a blue shell to the kart once the words left his mouth. This was the first time Bowser ever called her his girlfriend or referred himself as her boyfriend. “I—um—.” He took a sip of his wine, not wanting to speak anymore. He felt a hand rest on his. The turtle looked to see Luciana, giving him a sheepish smile, cheeks pink. The king gazed at her for a moment and returned the look, intertwining his fingers with hers. Soon the two were enjoying the rest of their meal, having small talk and telling stories to pass the time.

The bowls were empty while the room was filled with laughter. Both human and koopa were smiling ear to ear. Bowser then got up and moved toward Luciana. He offered a clawed hand to the woman. She gladly took it, Bowser helping her out of the cushioned chair. “I wanna show you something.” Luciana cocked her head. “Oh? What is it?” He winked at her. “It’s a surprise!” He led her out of the room and further down the hall. A few moments later they were in front of two glass doors. Bowser opened them for Luciana, trying hard to contain his excitement. She stepped through them and gasped. The room was filled to the brim with beautiful flowers and plants, some of them the plumber had never seen before. “Oh Bowser—they’re gorgeous!”

“The ash from the volcanos makes for great fertilizer. All of our vegetables are grown here too.” Luciana turned to the koopa with sparkling eyes. He couldn’t help but crack a grin as he brought her further in the garden. They soon stopped at an elaborate stone bench. Bowser sat down, patting the spot next to him. Luciana took a seat, smoothing out her dress. She looked around, taking in all the scenery. She wasn’t the only one taking in the view. Bowser watched her, feeling lighter than air. He couldn’t explain why though. He then remembered why they were here in the first place.

“L-Luciana,” he asked softly. She turned to him, the same warm feeling from earlier hitting him harder. “Yes Bowser?” The king felt his cheeks get hotter when she said his name. Swallowing, he took something from his coat pocket. “I—I wanted to give you these.” He opened his fist to reveal a pouch of seeds. “They’re green cymbidium orchids.” Luciana gaped at the seeds. She then turned to him, bewildered. “That’s my favorite flower! How—how did you get them?! They’re so hard to find!” Bowser proudly smiled, tapping his snout. “I have my ways.” Luciana rolled her eyes playfully. Her expression grew softer as she gingerly took the pouch from his hand. “Grazie Bowser. I’ll make sure they grow big and strong.” He gave the woman a tender look. “I know you will.”

The human and koopa gazed at one another. They both felt a pull, slowly closing the distance between them as they inched closer. Luciana rested a free hand on Bowser’s cheek, making his spiked tail wag steadily. Suddenly, she had an alarmed expression on her face and placed her hand over the king’s mouth. “Aspettare! What’s the time?!” Bowser had to take a minute to process what she just asked. He then took out his pocket watch. “It’s 11:50.” They stared at each other in utter fear. The duo then sprinted out of the room and down the halls. The minions that were still awake never saw their boss run so fast before, unless it was to escape from a fight or for food. Before they knew it, they were both in a lakitu cloud and booking it to Mario and Luciana’s house.

Once the cloud stopped, the king and plumber quickly jumped out of it. Bowser whipped out his watch. Luigi watched on in anticipation. He showed her the clock. “11:58,” she gasped out in relief. Bowser wiped his forehead, feeling ready to collapse. They walked to the front door, slowly catching their breath. Bowser leaned against the wall while Luciana fixed her hair. Bowser loosened his cravat, clearing his throat. “…I hope you had a good time.” The woman nodded happily. “I did! The bi-bim-bap was excellent!” She pulled a strand of hair behind her ear with a small blush. “It was nice—to be alone together.” He agreed in silence with a small grin. He licked his lips nervously. “Also—you can visit the garden whenever you come to the castle. That way we can spend more time—alone.” The plumber was surprised but giddily replied, “I would love that.”

Without thinking, Bowser leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on her cheek. “Good night, Luciana.” The human blushed profusely, touching where he kissed her. She looked up at him in surprise. Bowser started to sweat bullets. “Oh no. Did I go too far?! I-I didn’t mean-“ Suddenly, Luciana gave him a warm kiss on the cheek as well. He felt like his whole body was on fire. “G-Good night, Bowser,” she said with a bashful grin. The koopa watched Luciana as she opened the door to her home. Before she closed it, the woman gave him a dreamy expression. Bowser swore he heard music as she gazed at him with those beautiful eyes. He gave her a blissful grin, waving good bye. She waved back, leisurely shutting the door.

Bowser jumped onto the cloud, gushing so hard that fire was peeking out of his mouth. Once he returned to his castle, the koopa’s heart was racing. He was astonished that he was even tired that night. Regardless, Bowser got ready for bed. After he put a pair of pajamas on, the king then climbed into a large bed, pulling the blanket over his chest. He let out a happy sigh, his last thought before falling asleep being his girlfriend’s pure smile.

I wrote this like--last year. Sorry it took so long to submit. Characters (c) Nintendo

[lunar-wandering]

i don’t wanna fight alone anymore - Chapter 4

*(show host voice)* everybody welcome to the stage- Macaque!!!

Word Count: 1.8k

Read on Ao3

-

"What are you doing here?" Wukong hissed, struggling to push Macaque off of him.

"Well now, Wukong, is that any way to greet an old friend?" Macaque asked, a teasing lilt to his voice, and Wukong outright growled, grabbing hold of Macaque's arms and rolling over, pinning him to the ground. Macaque looked up at Wukong, a hint of fear flickering across his face for the briefest of moments, before it was once again replaced with the same old smug look.

"Ha! Nice scar." He laughed, and Wukong let go of one of Macaque's arms in order to use his hand to cover the notch on his eyebrow. "Oh, not to mention the scarf. Copying me huh? What, do you appreciate my style, or are you still jealous from when MK came to me for training, instead of you."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Wukong hissed, glancing nervously over at the others, who still hadn't moved, mainly out of not being entirely sure what was happening. Macaque used the momentary distraction to flip their positions once again, putting himself on top of Wukong.

"Heh, either way, that's karma for you." He said, grin still evident on his face, and Wukong, seeing no other option, reached up and raked his claws against Macaque's cheek, drawing a small amount of blood. Macaque yelped, leaning back as he instinctively covered the wound, and Wukong sat up, immediately following up be headbutting the other monkey.

The headbutt, of course, ended up being a mistake, as both monkey's reared back, covering their foreheads as pain washed over them. (Wukong could help but feel that there's been something....off, something cold when they'd bumped heads but-)

"Enough." Pigsy said, suddenly standing beside them, holding a wooden spoon in between the two in order to separate them. "Wukong, what is going on?"

"Ask him." Wukong growled, still rubbing his aching forehead, "He's the one who suddenly appeared out of nowhere and tackled me."

"Yeah, I'm not going to apologize for that." Macaque said, crossing his arms. MK mentally noted that the shadow monkey had, thus far, made no attempt at standing up.

"Didn't expect you to, you bitch." Wukong said, accepting Mei's offered hand as she helped him stand back up. "Seriously, why are you here?"

"What, can't I drop in to check on my favorite student every now and again?" Macaque said, not so subtly gesturing at MK, who sighed.

"I keep telling you, I'm not your student." He said, sounding tired with this whole thing already. Macaque just smirked. In response, Mei kicked him in the leg, and Macaque yelped, bending over as he cradled his leg closer to himself, his fur bristling as he clenched his teeth.

"....I didn't even kick you that hard." Mei said, looking Macaque over again. There were no visible injuries, other than the scratch Wukong had left on his cheek, but she had encountered many a demon, she knew that just because she didn't see it didn't mean it wasn't there.

"Is that it?" Wukong asked, crossing his arms as he looked at Macaque in disapproval. "You got injured, so you came crawling to us?"

"No. I'm fine." Macaque hissed out, rather unconvincingly, considering he still hadn't come out of his curled up position. Pigsy sighed, sensing this would be a long day.

"Wukong, go get the first aid kit." He said, and Wukong, despite huffing in irritation, complied, turning around to go find it. "Sandy- just. Restrain him for now."

Sandy pulled out some rope, and started wrapping it around Macaque's waist, restraining him by tying the other end of the rope to the ship. He didn't wrap it around Macaque's arms, worried about potentially brushing against some unseen injury. Macaque, surprisingly, laughed in response to this treatment.

"What am I, some damsel in distress?" He asked, "You going to tie me to some train tracks next?"

"Don't tempt me." Wukong hissed, rolling his eyes as he came back, passing the first aid kit over to MK, who handed it over to Tang, who, despite Macaque's protests, started applying a bandage onto the scratch on the monkey's cheek.

"I can't treat the rest of your injuries if you won't let us see them." Tang said, after he finished treating the scratch.

"I told you already, I'm not injured. Besides, I don't remember asking for your help." Macaque said, looking away from Tang's face. Wukong, a smirk on his face, snuck up beside Macaque, before lightly poking the leg Mei had kicked. Macaque yelped again, pulling his leg away, an expression of pain flickering across his face. Wukong lightly giggled, then hissed as Pigsy hit him in the back of the head with the spoon.

"Wukong, why would you do that??" Pigsy asked, disapproval in his voice. Wukong couldn't help but feel a bit like a child being chided for doing something wrong.

"...He was being kind of stuck up?" He offered as a response, chuckling nervously when Pigsy's disapproving look only increased in intensity.

"Either way, he is injured." Tang said, "So, Macaque, are you going to let me treat your injuries or not?"

Macaque didn't answer for a few moments, before he reluctantly sighed, a look of concentration appearing on his face-

And then, just like that, a series of injuries appeared on his body. A long gash down his arm that looked only partially healed, a newer cut down his leg (and Mei winced, knowing she had made that injury worse), as well as his fur looking, overall, like a mess. Wukong sucked in a breath.

"What happened to you?" He asked. Macaque rolled his eyes.

"Like you'd care." He mumbled, looking down at the floor as Tang carefully tended to his injuries. MK subtly tugged on the edge of Wukong's scarf.

"Monkey King?" He asked, quietly. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Sure, kid." Wukong said, letting MK lead him to the other side of the ship. He knew Macaque would probably still be able to hear them anyways, but the other monkey was distracted with Tang, so they should be okay for now. "What's up?"

"It's just....you- you don't think that she did that to him, do you?" MK asked, glancing over at Macaque, at Macaque's injuries.

"No way to know for sure." Wukong said, "He isn't the best at making friends. Could've been anyone."

Suddenly, the look in MK's eyes changed.

"You'd know all about how Macaque makes friends then?" He asked, crossing his arms. "Y'know, while you were on vacation, I ran into Macaque again."

"You what? Why didn't you tell me?" Wukong asked, concern in his voice. MK brushed it off.

"You were busy, remember? Anyways, Macaque said something....interesting." MK said, "He said you two used to be friends. Like, he straight up compared the both of you to the sun and moon."

"He was always over-dramatic like that-"

"And. He said you abandoned him." MK said, "That you forgot about him."

Wukong sighed.

"Is that still how he sees it?" He said, rubbing his arm. "It's- look it was complicated, okay? I, well to put thing's simply, time in heaven works... differently than time on earth, and then the whole 'Havoc in Heaven' thing happened- and just. I never really got the chance-"

"But you were friends?" MK asked, "He can't have been all that bad back then."

"Well- no. He wasn't." Wukong admitted, "...If this is some attempt of yours to get me to trust him, you're not going to succeed kiddo. Not that I'm sure why you'd do that-"

"That's not what I'm- okay, so it's a little bit like that." MK confessed, laughing a little as he rubbed the back of his neck. "It's just, he's injured, so we can't just let him leave. We should let him stay with us for a bit-"

"MK-"

"It'd be wrong to just let him leave, wouldn't it?" MK insisted, grabbing hold of Wukong's hand, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "C'mon, Monkey King, at least this way we can keep an eye on him!"

"....I can't argue with you on that, I guess." Wukong sighed, "Fine. But don't blame me when he ends up betraying us in the end."

"We'll pay very close attention to him." MK insisted, "He can't betray us if we know it's coming!"

-

He was going to betray them.

He was going to turn against them.

He would earn their fragile trust, and then shatter it like glass.

He would not let himself get attached.

Macaque kept this mental mantra to himself going as Mei quietly showed him to the room he'd be staying in. They had reluctantly untied him, letting him walk by himself so long as he had someone with him. They would allow him the privacy of his room, but that was it.

Macaque walked into the rather small, empty space, the only thing in there being a bed with plain sheets and a door to what he presumed to be a bathroom. He sighed as he heard Mei close the door behind him, before she turned and walked away, down the hall. He waited until her footsteps faded, and he was sure nobody would open the door unexpectedly.

Macaque went into the bathroom (it was just as small and plain as the bedroom), and let his glamor drop all the way.

They'd trusted him with this room. And that was a problem.

The kid and the others had trusted him, albeit by not much, but they were still going to let him stay.

Wukong, at least, clearly still distrusted him, if the glares he'd noticed were any indication.

Macaque sighed again as he looked in the mirror, trying to mentally prepare himself to play the long con.

He was going to betray them.

He was going to turn against them.

He would earn their fragile trust, and then shatter it like glass.

He would not let himself get attached.

Despite this, Macaque knew himself.

He knew he was going to get attached.

It would be inevitable really, that kid, MK, seemed to drag everyone into his little golden family sooner or later. He was sure that Wukong probably would've outright thrown him off the ship if it wasn't for the kid.

Macaque knew how easy it would be for the kid to drag him in, make him feel like a part of the group. He would resist it, but it would happen.

He tried to brace himself for how much the looks of betrayal on their faces would hurt. Tried to convince himself he would enjoy it. That this is what he wanted. That he chose to do this.

The shine of the blue circlet that wrapped around his head in a vice grip, reminded him that it wasn't his choice to make.

[fullmetalscullyy]

day 8 - studying

24 days - 24 oneshots | a collection of oneshots to celebrate royai

rated: g | words: 1634

read on ao3

“Do you mind?”

“Mind what?”

“That.”

“What’s that?”

Riza lifted her eyes to the heavens and told herself to quietly count to ten.

“Hawkeye, what?”

“The tapping.”

“Oh. You mean this?” Roy started to quickly tap the end of his pen on the pad of paper in front of him again. His shit eating grin was so close to getting knocked off his face with force, but Riza restrained herself purely because she didn’t want to get kicked out of the library.

It may just end up being worth it though…

“Do you wish to keep your hands, Mustang?”

“Very much so.”

“Then stop tapping.”

“You’re so easy to wind up,” he chuckled, pleased with himself. He brought all four legs of his chair back down to earth and straightened his posture in his seat. The tapping did stop, to be fair, but knowing he was doing it solely to get on her nerves was pushing his luck with Riza.

It was exam time, she was stressed, and she didn’t need him making things worse.

Riza didn’t dignify his comment with an acknowledgement.

All was going well until he sighed heavily – a long, suffering one – and started to hum annoyingly loud underneath his breath.

Riza grit her teeth. “Roy?”

“Yes, Riza,” he asked sweetly.

“We have less than a week to finish this and are nowhere near done. Could you please show some interest and help me work through this?”

He didn’t give her a vocal reply, simply hummed as if he was considering it. Riza gripped her pen tighter. He shrugged and went back to his work as if it was the bane of his existence. Like it was some great effort for him to work for a grade he needed to pass their course.

Riza had had enough.

She closed her textbooks and tried not to force them too roughly into her bag. She didn’t want to break her laptop. As calmly as she could, Riza stood and shrugged on her jacket.

Roy wore the look of someone confused and once he realised what she was doing, what he’d driven her to, his face fell, and it looked like he knew he’d fucked up.

“I’m leaving,” Riza announced. Despite the irritation flowing through her body her voice was surprisingly calm. “Feel free to send me your notes once you’re done. If you ever get them done. I’ll be doing the rest of mine back at my dorm.”

He started to gape at her, and it caused her irritation to rise. Because how dare he.

“If you’re not interested and if being my partner is such a chore for you, then tell me. Don’t waste my time. Especially not with this coursework.” By the time she was finished, Riza found herself glaring at him.

“Riza –”

“Good night, Roy.”

Yep, he definitely knew he’d fucked up. Riza didn’t let him finish because quite frankly, she didn’t want to hear it. If he wasn’t interested in passing this class then she’d leave him to his messing around, because she was interested. She did want to pass. She’d go into their class at the end of the week and ask the professor to reassign her to another study partner if she could. If not… she’d do it by herself. Mustang was of no use and wasn’t bothered, so she was by herself regardless.

The biting wind of the winter air rushed over her once she opened the door. Riza tugged her scarf tighter around her neck and buried her face within its warmth.

“Riza!”

She ignored Roy’s cry and stepped outside. She was fed up with him and if he wasn’t going to take this seriously then she wasn’t going to give him the time of day.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

Riza almost turned and left when she spotted Roy standing next to her usual study table the next evening.

“Riza! Riza, wait. Please.”

She eyed him sceptically. “Why should I?”

Mustang held his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry.”

Riza blinked at him. He had never apologised to her before.

“I’m sorry for the incessant tapping and for my behaviour last night. I didn’t mean to irritate you so much or distract you from your work.” He twisted and pulled out a white paper bag from behind him. Riza noticed it was from the bakery she frequented often to purchase food for her late night “study fuel” during exam time. “A peace offering, and an apology. I know you help me a lot and put a lot of effort and work into our assignments. It means a lot to me, and I do appreciate it. Truly, I do. I’m sorry for taking advantage of that and causing you so much trouble. For it seeming like I didn’t care or was going to coast off all your hard work alone. It was just a bit of teasing, but I recognise now that I took it too far.” He certainly looked guilty enough. “I’m sorry.”

Riza continued to eye him warily.

“Here.” He urged her to take the bag. “It’s not nearly enough to make up for it, but it’s a start. The rest starts tonight.”

“Did you finally grow a conscience then,” Riza asked as she eyed the bag carefully, still expecting something horrible to come jumping out at her. Peering inside she saw her favourite kind of doughnut.

How did he know what her favourite doughnut was?

“Something like that,” he smirked. An uncertainty still lingered about him though, alongside something else Riza couldn’t put her finger on.

She considered letting him stew for a while. It served him right, and she couldn’t help but feel pleased to finally get a chance at a little payback time after years of putting up with his shit…

“Making up for it starts tonight,” she questioned.

Eagerly, Roy nodded. “I spent all day preparing notes and going through what we needed. I’ve got it all here.” He twisted behind him and pulled put a pile of papers. Quite a thick pile of papers, which looked like they had a lot of work contained within them.

“Are you going to take this seriously now?”

Roy nodded. “You have my word. I promise. No more teasing and no more jokes.”

Riza didn’t mind having a joke and a laugh, but there was a time and place. In crunch time with the weight of everything pressing down on her shoulders was not the appropriate time.

“Sorry for snapping last night,” she replied.

“You were well within your right,” Roy assured her. “Don’t worry about it.”

He must have been feeling very guilty because he even pulled out a chair for her at their table like a gentleman.

“Shall we get started?”

To his credit, he was attentive and respectful of their study time together. It was like a switch had been flicked. Riza appreciated it, both academically and personally. It was like conversing with a completely different person. Frat Boy Mustang had disappeared and in his place was someone willing to listen to her and put in the effort to their work. His happy, boyish smile and kind, helpful behaviour was much preferable to his teasing smirk and smug attitude.

One of Roy’s friends came to meet him while they were packing up. She and Roy were laughing together when he turned up, a massive proud grin on his face.

“See, I told you you’d have another chance if you apologised,” he announced loudly in greeting, causing Roy to freeze in fear.

“A chance?” Riza cocked her head to look between them both

Roy floundered then turned to his friend. It looked like he may kill him on the spot.

Reading the room, his friend simply said, “oops”, and laughed.

“Hughes, I will kill you. I swear. Riza,” he turned to face her, “sorry. Ignore him. He’s an idiot.”

He was so earnest in his apology she couldn’t help but feel amused. Both her eyebrows lifted towards her hairline.

A chance, huh? He was interested in her?

Riza didn’t believe it, but instead of looking sheepish, his friend simply looked smug and knowing. Like he had everything figured out.

“Okay,” she replied easily with a shrug, appearing to dismiss the comment like he insisted. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Roy,” she bid him gracefully and with a friendly smile.

While walking out the library she could already hear Roy berating his friend, who did nothing but laugh at his expense.

“Oh, come on. It’s taken you forever. I helped you out! You should be grateful!”

Riza rolled her eyes at their antics.

Taken him forever, huh?

Roy Mustang was interested in her? Wow. It all kind of made sense now, what with his teasing – very childish, though – and his effort to try and make things up to her. Riza would shelve that thought and consider the possibility at a later date. She had exams to study for and coursework to finish. There were already too many important things going on in her life. She didn’t need to add this on top of it right now.

It was interesting though, Riza had to admit… She may even surprise herself and not say no…

But later. Roy would probably be fretting over it. That was definitely payback enough for the poor guy.

She’d ease his mind and make things right with him when she got home. When they both had some privacy and his friend was no longer around to tease him, she’d give him a call and straighten things out over the phone.

And tell him to mark her down as a maybe to this “chance”. Once all their exams were finished. He has a little bit more making up to do before she would consider it properly, she thought with a smirk.

feel free to leave a comment and kudos on ao3 :)

likes and reblogs are much appreciated <3

[alpacaparkaseok]

Happy Holidays - BTS Style

OT7 Imagine/Reactions

Hey guys! I thought it’d be fun to to an ot7 holiday oneshot with all the members! So the following are seven different prompts from my prompt list with the seven members! Enjoy, and happy holidays!

18. “Why are you still up?” - Jin

Christmas Day had passed and gone, you were sitting in the middle of the front room staring up at the lights on the Christmas tree. Tomorrow would mean it was time to take everything down and prepare for the new year.

“Why are you still up?”

Jin enters the room wearing his new fluffy robe you had bought him more as a joke than anything; but he insisted on wearing it all day. 

You shrug, keeping your eyes glued on the beautiful Christmas tree. “Just enjoying the last few minutes of Christmas.”

Jin comes up beside you, settling on the floor and sitting shoulder to shoulder. Grabbing a blanket from off the sofa he wraps it around the two of you, pulling you into his chest. 

“Mind if I sit with you?” Jin’s voice is soft as he studies your face, visibly relaxing when he sees that you aren’t upset. Just contemplative. 

Snuggling in closer to him, you laugh lightly. “Depends...did you bring snacks?”

Jin sighs, his hand delving into the deep pockets of his robe and pulling out a chocolate orange. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Sneaking a peck to his cheek, you giggle at how his cheeks redden in the dim light of the room. “Love you, too.”

20. “Merry Christmas, bub.” - Yoongi

It’s no secret that Min Yoongi doesn’t enjoy waking up early in the morning, and Christmas is no exception. That’s what he told you last night as you rolled out a sleeping bag in the front room, deeming it a perfect night to sleep before the Christmas tree. 

You realized fairly soon that the hardest part wasn’t convincing him to sleep out on the floor - it was getting him to wake up in the morning. 

You’d been patient, waiting until at least 7 before trying to wake him up. At first, he didn’t even budge. You poked and prodded at his puffy cheeks until he groaned, turning the other way. 

“Yoooongi,” you coo, laughing as he dives further into his sleeping bag. “Min Yoooongi!”

Yoongi groans again, kicking at his sleeping bag until he can see your smiling face. He frowns back up at you.

“Whadda you want?”

A glance at the time shows that it’s already 7:30, obviously time to get things rolling. “It’s Christmas, Yoongs! Get up, we’ve got to eat and open presents! We’re supposed to be over at Jin’s by 10-”

Yoongi wraps his arms around you, pulling you down with him until you’re squished up against his chest. “Five more minutes.”

“But-”

Tipping your chin up, Yoongi dusts a kiss over the tip of your nose. “Merry Christmas, bub.”

Rolling your eyes, you give in, already beginning to keep time in your head. “Yeah yeah. Merry Christmas.”

6. “Snuggle season is the best season.” - Hoseok

“Is there any left?”

Hoseok peeks inside the giant pot of hot chocolate. “Yeah, you want a refill?”

I nod, handing over my giant mug that he gifted me earlier in the day. Hoseok makes a show of ladling the chocolatey drink into my mug, yelping when a bit hops out and nearly lands on his new sweater. 

“It’s out to get me!” He declares, handing me the drink with a wary glance. I can’t help but laugh, shrugging as I walk away. We’ve just started “The Polar Express” as a nice way to wrap up our Christmas. 

Hoseok steps over the couch from the back, making me hiss as he plops down beside me, nearly making me spill. “Hobiii,’ I mumble, carefully setting my hot chocolate down on the side table. 

“Whoops,” he nuzzles in close to me. “Sorry.”

The movie unfolds before us as we watch on and comment on different things we enjoy about the movie. 

“See, this is why winter is the best season,” I say. “I mean, what other season is so cozy? Just sitting and watching feel-good movies, drinking hot chocolate-”

“...snuggling....” Hobi mumbles under his breath, keeping both eyes glued to the screen. 

I raise my eyebrows. “...yes. Snuggling. But you can snuggle whenever.”

Hoseok shrugs, snuggling in even closer to me. “Yeah, but this is the season of snuggles.”

Laughing, I brush his hair away from his eyes and watch as they widen as the movie. “Is that your main point for why winter in the best? How on earth would you defend that in a debate?”

Giving me a quick glance before returning his attention to the movie, I refrain from laughing as Hoseok is clearly a bit embarrassed.

“It’s easy. Snuggle season is the best season.”

Dropping my head against his shoulder, I go back to watching the movie. “Can’t argue with that.”

I can feel Hobi’s grin even though I can’t see him. “My point exactly.”

2. “Do you think anybody has ever used an ice skate as a murder weapon?” - Namjoon

Sitting amidst the piles of wrapping paper and ribbons, I look across the room to where Namjoon sits in a similar situation. 

“Merry Christmas.”

Namjoon grins, grabbing a garbage bag and starting to shove the wrapping paper inside. “Merry Christmas.”

It’s quiet today, we’ll be meeting up with everyone else later in the day. For now, I’m content to sprawl out on the sofa with my new book that Namjoon got me. It’s a riveting true story, one that deals with betrayal, plot twists, and adrenaline inducing scenes. 

Namjoon sets up camp on the opposite sofa, immediately diving into his new book as well. It’s a self-help book that he’s been going on and on about for weeks - he made it all too easy to pick out his Christmas gift. 

The low tones of Christmas music playing from our speaker are the only sounds besides the occasional rustle of a page being turned. My book takes me on a ride, and before I know it hours have passed and I’m right in the middle of the action. 

Namjoon breathes deep as though reviving from a deep sleep, looking over at me from where he lays on the couch. “We should probably get going.”

Reluctantly setting my book down, I nod. “Does this mean that I actually have to get ready?” Namjoon throws back his head and laughs, completely understanding the sentiment as he runs a hand through his unruly hair. 

“Nope. I’m not going to, at least. You look great anyways.”

A few warm layers and a cold car later, Namjoon and I sing along to a few songs on the radio as we head across town. As the songs begin to change, I fall silent. Coming to a stop at a red light, I begin to ponder my book.

My face must reflect my contemplative state perfectly, because Namjoon chuckles beside me. “What are you thinking about?”

Blinking at him, I frown. “Do you think anybody has ever used an ice skate as a murder weapon?”

Now it’s Namjoon’s turn to blink at me. The light turns green, so I continue to drive, starting to wonder if I sounded a bit strange. 

Once we’ve pulled into Jin’s driveway, I turn off the car and face Namjoon. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

Namjoon lets out a startled laugh, looking at me with bright eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t even realize that I never answered you. I was...busy.”

Furrowing my brows I hop out of the car, Namjoon linking my arm through his as we make our way up the sidewalk. 

“Busy? With what?”

Namjoon’s head is pointed down as he grins, his dimple making an appearance. “I was busy falling in love with you all over again.”

My eyes grow wide before I burst out into laughter, Namjoon following suit. “You love me because of murder?” 

Namjoon nods his head. “Definitely. What more could I want?”

Rolling my eyes, I see that everyone is already inside Jin’s apartment. “You...wow. We’re messed up.”

Namjoon winks at me. “In the best way.”

7. “Your toes are like ice blocks! Noooo stop touching me!!” - Jimin

“That. Was. Amazing.”

Jimin comes huffing and puffing inside the house, tearing off his beanie and scarf as he spots me. Taehyung and Hoseok trail in after him. 

“I assume you had fun?”

Jimin laughs, his entire face lighting up as he begins to recount everything that happened on their sledding adventure. 

“...and then Tae fell off his sled and literally rolled down the rest of the mountain! I’ve never laughed so hard in my entire life.” Indeed, he’s in the process of wiping tears from his eyes as he finishes his tale, the other two boys having disappeared into the kitchen where the promise of food proved to be too much of a temptation. 

I chuckle at the mere sight of Jimin, his cheeks still red from the cold and his eyes wide. “Sounds like a good afternoon.”

He nods, sliding onto the couch and laying down. He stretches his legs until he’s pushing against mine. I immediately hiss and retract my feet as his cold toes brush up against me. 

“Your toes are like ice blocks!” I shriek, only making Jimin tuck his toes under my legs in an effort to warm them up. “Noooo stop touching me!!” Jimin’s evil laugh rings in my ears as I glare at him, promptly standing up to go to a different couch. 

“Oh no you don’t!” Jimin shouts, launching off the couch and pulling me back down in a pile on top of him. “If you really love me, you’ll help me warm up.”

I snort. “Put some socks on! I’m not sacrificing my body heat for you!”

“Wait, so you don’t love me?” Jimin’s puppy dog eyes are hard to ignore; especially when he still has me locked in his arms. 

“Gahhh you know that’s not what I-”

“Well then say it if you-”

“C’mon Chim, just go put some socks on!”

Jimin shakes his head, chuckling. “I’m alright like this, thanks.”

Wriggling around until I finally break free of his grasp, I roll onto the floor with a triumphant shout. Jumping up and sprinting into Jimin’s room, I hurry back with a pair of thick socks, taking the opportunity to throw them at Jimin who remains on the couch. 

He shouts when the socks hit him on the side of the head. “Hey! What was that for?”

Coming up behind the couch, I begin playing with his messy hair. “That’s how I say ‘I love you’. Didn’t you like it?”

Jimin laughs as he slips his socks on. “It was perfect. But maybe we could take a less violent approach next time?”

I shrug. “Beggars can’t be choosers.” 

19. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to find fresh flowers in the middle of winter?” - Taehyung

You’ve been out searching for over two hours, so your state of mind isn’t necessarily the best when you finally roll into the apartment at nearly ten o’clock at night. 

Taehyung tends to be spontaneous - he has an affinity for sending you out on random adventures at the most inconvenient time - but tonight it was just cold enough to have you in a frustrated mood by the time you got back. 

Kicking your shoes off in the entryway, you’re just about to yell out that you’ve returned when you realize that all is not as you left it. 

The lights are darker, soft Christmas music is playing, and is that a poinsettia on the dining table?

Just as you’re standing there in wonder, Taehyung rounds the corner. He wearing a deep green sweater, just nice enough to tip you off. 

“Ah, you found some flowers!” He gushes, rushing over to you and taking the beautiful flowers that you just bought from your grasp. When he’d begged you earlier to go out and buy some fresh flowers, you certainly didn’t expect to be returning to this. 

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to find fresh flowers in the middle of winter?” You ask, still a little angry that Tae just sent you on a wild goose chase all around Seoul. Wandering into the dining room as though in a dream, the air is effectively knocked out of you when you see just what he’s prepared. 

Taehyung’s voice drifts in from the kitchen, where he’s putting the flowers in a vase. “I know, that’s why I sent you away! I knew it’d take you a while, and I had to get everything set up.”

It’s a wonder that he was able to get everything set up and ready to go in just a couple of hours. The entire dining room is decked out in candles, beautiful placements, and a few wrapped presents lying around. 

“Where’s everyone else?” You wonder aloud. After all, this is the shared apartment between all seven boys. Taehyung brushes past you, standing before the table and debating whether he should replace the poinsettia with the fresh flowers or leave it be. 

“Oh, they’re gone tonight. I convinced them to...get lost.”

You can’t help but laugh, your frustration from earlier dissolving as you watch Taehyung place the fresh flowers on a side table. 

“Ok, the food will be here any minute-”

“Tae.”

The man in question turns to face you, pure innocence spelled across his face. “Yes?”

“What’s going on?”

“Oh,” Taehyung chuckles, realizing that he’s kept you in the dark. “Right. Well, I just wanted to do something nice with you. For Christmas. Before we have to leave and I won’t get to see you.”

You heart melts at his words, and you follow him to sit down at the table. “So you did all of this?” He nods. “It’s amazing, Tae.”

“You really think so?”

You nod. “I know so. Thank you, darling.”

Taehyung nods, opening his mouth but the sound of a knock on the door cutting him off. “Oh, that must be the takeout!” Taehyung scurries off, leaving you in a fit of laughter as you realize that Taehyung, for all his fancy tendencies, is still just Tae. 

The memory of the two of you eating cheap takeout on fine china is a memory you’ll keep for a long time.

5. “Where were you?” “Building a snow fort, duh.” - Jungkook

It’s freezing. Not the freezing that people say when they want to complain about how cold it is outside. Those people are weak. Those are the people that decide that they’d better stay inside because they can’t handle the slightest bit of cold.

No, today is actually freezing. Like, you think your toes my be amputated if you stay out here for much longer. 

Huffing, you pull out your phone to see if you’ve received a text from Jungkook. You haven’t. A quick check at your conversation shows you the same thing: Jungkook telling you that he’ll be right out, and to wait for him beside the back entrance. 

Well, you’ve been waiting for several minutes now outside the back entrance of the Bighit building, and you’re pretty sure you’d rather go inside and risk exposing your entire relationship to the world rather than dying a slow, cold death out here. 

You’re in the middle of contemplating what your final words should be when you hear Jungkook’s unmistakable laugh from behind you.

“You look like you're freezing!”

Whirling around, you see the man that has put you through all of this suffering wading out of the tall snowbank, his beanie pulled down low over his ears. 

“Where were you?” You mumble as your teeth chatter. Jungkook rushes over to you, rubbing your arms in an attempt to warm you up. 

“Building a snow fort, duh.”

Oh, today might be the day you seriously consider murder. “Jeon Jungkook, I’ve been dying out here waiting for you! You couldn’t just-”

Jungkook shushes you with his woolen mitten, grinning at you like you’re confessing your love for him and not reprimanding him. 

“It’s warm inside the snow fort.”

You blink, your train of thought shifting gears. “Does your snow fort take deliveries?”

Jungkook laughs, looping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you along. “Oh, absolutely. Wanna check it out?”

Giving in, you sigh. “Yeah.”

“It’ll be fun, I promise.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“You still mad at me for making you wait?”

“...ask me again after I’ve eaten.”

Jungkook laughs, guiding you toward his snow fort and promising to call up some takeout as soon as possible.

Merry Christmas! 

masterlist

[amerrierworld]

Babysitter (pt 9)

Thor (Ragnarok) - fanfiction

Pt 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 

Summary: A Loki interlude.

Characters: Hela, Loki

Word Count: 2,111

Warnings: Idk, swearing?

Loki was incredibly annoyed at the current situation. 

He’d woken up on a random, clunky spaceship with a pounding head and a bruised neck. He remembered the world going blank and being quite certain that he’d been dead until, frustratingly so, his lungs gasped for the most painful breath he’d ever taken. 

A janky pirate ship had snatched him from floating in space amongst the debris, stripped him of his armour -no doubt to sell or melt down into other knick knacks- and left him in the back amongst the cargo. They’d presumed he was dead, so when he had woken up, they had a bit of a shock. 

Not a word was comprehensible, Loki couldn't understand whatever gibberish language they spoke, so he ignored them and shuffled to their food supply. That got him a whack on his back from a whip and a kick to the back of the knees. 

Trying to take back his armour also earned him a few bruises. They didn’t seem very dangerous, but quite a nuisance. 

Amongst the cargo he found familiar debris that struck an icy chord inside Loki. There were piles of Asgardian clothing- ripped and filthy, but Asgardian nonetheless. Bags with very few belongings, and metal scraps of the ship they had been on. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the remainder of the ship of refugees was probably lost. When the pirates began to beat him again for rummaging through their stuff, a rusty old pipe amongst the stolen goods helped quiet them down immensely. 

With his kidnappers knocked out, Loki scarfed down what measly rations they had and set course for Earth at light speed -well, the closest speed they got to light speed which was more like a quick paced jog. 

He tied up the crew and tossed them in the back, and lounged in the cockpit as the ship traveled on autopilot, picking scraps of food from between his teeth. 

Communications on this ship were absolute garbage, he concluded. There was barely any signal and he couldn’t figure out where the closest planet was. So, he took a nap, ate some more food, and tried not to think too much about the harrowing experience of Thanos choking him to death.

Hours later, they entered a very familiar atmosphere. Loki let the ship crash-land, grabbed a bag of few supplies and hopped out just before they hit the ground. 

He marched on through the thicket of trees where they landed. Angry shouts that were no doubt curse words echoed from the smoking ship as he left them behind and tried to gather his bearings. 

An old cabin was the first building he saw. With a rusty dagger at the ready, he inspected the home around the back, looking for a vehicle he could take, something to get him moving faster than his legs, when suddenly a high pitched shriek nearly shattered his eardrums.

A young girl, no older than six, was staring at him with big brown eyes. Rain boots covered in mud, an aged stuffy in her hands. Loki put his finger to his lips, dreading that he was going to have to kill the girl before she gave him away or screamed bloody murder. 

“Daddy! There’s an Avenger in the yard!” she sped off towards a shed, where there was a light on inside. Loki’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. Whatever outcome he was expecting, this was by far the worst. 

“I’m not- fuck.”

He shoved the dagger away and out of sight and stomped towards the shed, fuming with annoyance. He was about to go off at the man for letting his daughter talk to random strangers and how he certainly was not an Avenger, but the man in question had a large saw in hand and about 200 pounds of muscle to carry, so he snapped his mouth shut. 

“Oh, hello there,” he said, his daughter bouncing about the workshop. “What brings one of you all the way out here?”

“And where exactly is out here?” Loki asked.

“Canada! What, you superheroes never been to Canada before? Always hanging around New York, eh? Are you taking a trip or something?”

“No. I, uh, crash-landed here.”

“From space?” the girl piped up, gawking.

“Yes, from space,” Loki said through gritted teeth. “Fighting angry aliens.”

“I told you, Daddy! He’s a hero!”

“I bet you’re trying to find your way to America, then? Lord knows why, there’s all kinds of weird things happening around town nowadays.”

“What do you mean?”

“Half the world’s gone! Poof! Just like that, some alien business I bet.”

“Are you going to save us from them?” his daughter asked again. Loki sighed.

“I’ll try my best. Now, can you please show me how to get to New York as fast as possible?”

The lumberjack’s husband took Loki and his daughter in his jeep and drove a merry long way to the nearest airport. On the way, the little girl asked him all sorts of questions about the Avengers, that he could only half-answer.

“Is it true Thor is super powerful?”

“Well. He's not that powerful. He just uses a hammer. Anyone with a hammer can use it as a weapon and suddenly be considered powerful.”

“I wish I had a super powerful hammer. Then my brothers would stop teasing me so much.”

“Hey,” her second father softly scolded.

“They’re mean!”

“Sibling feuds? I know the feeling,” Loki muttered.

“Do you have siblings, Mr. Avenger?”

“Sure do,” he smiled wryly. “Absolute bullies.”

“Me too!”

“Hey now, let our guest settle down a bit,” her dad said. “She gets a little excited around new people, so sorry.”

“It’s no problem.”

“The local airport’s just up here. It’ll take you to Detroit, and then you gotta get a connection flight to New York.”

“Thank you,” Loki said, genuinely.

“Why are you going to New York, Mr. Avenger?”

“To find my siblings,” Loki sighed. “At least, one of them should still be there.”

“But they’re mean to you?”

“Yeah,” Loki pondered as the car came to a stop. “But they’re family. I suppose.”

-

A few cunning lies and disguises later, Loki was suddenly landing in New York, amidst chaos. It had been a few days since he’d woken up, and apparently a few days since what they call the ‘Blip’. Humans clearly don’t like having their realities altered. 

Your home was abandoned. Alfred didn't even greet Loki at the door, and no amount of pulling and prying opened it for him. The lights were off, and he feared the worst.

It wasn’t until he was in the streets and overhead muttering about some crazy goth lady terrorizing a nearby street that Loki thought he had finally found something.  

He marched down the street until, to his surprise, he found Hela sitting hunched on the side walk, scowling and daring anyone to come close to her. She looked incredibly tired and disheveled, but her eyes were clear and angry, and recognized her idiot brother immediately. 

“What the hell brought you back here?” Hela snarled. 

“A toddler’s wisdom, if you’ll believe it,” Loki said, ignoring her glare as he sat down next to her. 

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks. So do you.”

Hela grumbled. 

“Have you eaten?”

“Since when did you become Mother? I don't need your help.”

“Really?” Loki picked up a filthy scoop from a pile of three ice cream tubs that were fully devoured. He dangled it from his fingertips for a moment, pulling a face. “I think you do.”

“You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Glad to see you too, sister.”

Silence. Hela really did look like shit, Loki noted. Her hair was mussed, and there were rips and broken pieces in her armour, reminiscent of the time they’d met. She had to be weak not to bother fixing it with her powers, or was just too preoccupied to even think to fix it. 

“Where’s Y/N?” Loki asked. 

“Beats me.”

“Did you kill her?”

Hela’s eyes snapped to his, a sudden fire in them. “How dare you say that?”

“Well, her home is abandoned and no one answered the door, and you’re here  cowering like a criminal. One makes conclusions.”

Something changed in her expression, and she turned her body to face him. “Abandoned?”

Loki frowned, “yes. Didn't you know?”

“No- I.. I’ve been here, the last time I saw her...” 

Hela jumped to her feet, nearly kicking Loki in the process. “That bastard, he took her, didn’t he? Him and his awful, forsaken pieces of shit he calls friends.”

“Who?”

“Our darling brother,” she spat. “He came in and- and threatened me, and then took her from me.”

She paced in front of him, green fire trailing behind her heels, hot with anger. She had expected you to come find her, take her back to your home, make her feel safe. But when you never came she had assumed you had abandoned her. Now, knowing Thor had taken you instead, filled her with rage.

“Where does your little posse hang out, hm? Some supposed secret lair? A great big castle in the sky?”

Loki blinked at her, at her sudden outbursts, at the scared glances from passerbys, and didn’t know what to say.

“Fine then, I’ll get her myself,” she growled, turning away from him. 

Loki nearly let her walk away, let her walk into whatever doom she was getting  herself into, but with a groan and a mad realization, he knew she was the only one he could rely on right now.

“Wait,” he said, reluctantly, hurrying after her and grabbing her arm. “You can’t just go running off. Tell me what happened.”

Hela spat at his feet. “I don’t need to tell you anything.”

“You care about her, don't you? Y/N? Why else would you want to ‘rescue’ her from our brother?”

“Be silent,” she hissed.

“No, no, I’m right, aren’t I? You care for her, but you messed up, and now you have no one on your side. That’s why you left, and that’s why Thor had to take her.”

Hela yanked her arm away before Loki could see her face, but he knew what she felt; remorse, and loss. 

“Tell me.”

And so, reluctantly, knowing she had no other choice, Hela sat him down, this time on an actual park bench rather than the ground. She told him what had happened, how her mistrust had turned to affection for you, and how Thanos had destroyed everything in the end, and how the Avengers had fought her out of fear.

“I know the feeling,” Loki agreed, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, watching an elderly lady feed a bunch of pigeons as if nothing drastic had happened to the world the past few days. 

“And now I don't know where she is, and she probably hates me, but who am I to blame her for that?”

“If I know anything about Y/N, is that she cares about everyone, but it takes a lot more to win her love. She doesn’t hate you. She’s just afraid. I mean, you did after all break her window and run off into nowhere.”

Hela stayed quiet, made an annoyed sound in her throat, and looked away.

“I’m starving, how did you get all that ice-cream? Why not an actual meal? Or were you just eating your feelings?”

“Y/N doesn’t like it when I kill people, so it was either massacre the street or steal their dairy products,” Hela bristled. 

“Fair enough.”

“Now what, hm? You come out here, seemingly from the dead, chastise me for messing up, and now judge my diet? What do you really want, Loki?”

“Not sure, to be perfectly honest,” Loki said. “I thought I was dead, and then I wasn’t. Frankly, my priorities are shifting.”

“And what is your current priority?”

“Getting you back to Y/N so you stop moping around and fix this.”

“And how do you suppose we do that?”

Loki grinned, standing up. His armour shimmered and regained its full glamour; horned helmet and deep green cloak. 

“Taking notes from me, are we?” Hela grumbled. Loki glared at her.

“I was wearing this look long before you got here. Now, get up, we’re going to infiltrate the Avengers and give you your romantic happily-ever-after so you stop being such a pain in everyone’s neck.”

“You think we’ll just be able to get in? You really are as mad as Father was.”

“I’ve broken into quite a few places over the years, I’ll have you know. I’m the God of Mischief after all.”

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” Hela stood, her own armour strengthening again. 

“Shut it.”

A/N: Loki is not dead! I know he’s technically alive in an alternate universe or whatever.. but I wanted the Odin Trio to be together sooooo here we are. Let me know what you think!!

taglist: @midnight-lestrange​​ @cheerfullyvenomous​ @germansarechill​@gaylorrds @amii-nyc​ @waitingfortheendtocome​ @novakitten0901​@marvels-writings​ 

[tantei-chan-4869]

Chapter 1: The Return of the Female High School Detective

"Hnnng..... Ahhhhh!"

Edogawa Conan screamed as her body felt like it was melting. The painful sensation was unbearable as her fist clinched tightly to her chest while she gasped for air. The girl was trying to wait for the antidote to work.

Outside, a small scientist and a knowledgeable professor waited anxiously for the high school detective to finally return to the way she once was before being shrunken into a 7-year-old first grader.

"Kudo-kun?" Haibara knocked on the bathroom door gently. "Are you alright?"

She leaned her ear against the door. No responses was made. The shrunken scientist was about to open the locked door with her spare key until she felt the professor's hand on her small shoulder. Haibara looked up and met with the professor's calm eyes.

"Give her some time." He said. "It'll take some time for the effects to work after all."

Haibara bit her lips. She hesitated a bit before letting go of the doorknob with a sigh. She can only hope for the best. Just as the two of them was about to go back to the living room until the bathroom door clicked open. They turned around to see a beautiful 17 year old girl with waist length straight hair stood before them with a grin. Her school uniform fit snugly around her hourglass figure as she looked herself up and down. At last, she spoke.

"Haibara..... It worked!"

Haibara was indifferent. She secretly breathed a sigh of relief that Shinichi is alright. But she still have to keep the high school detective at a close watch just in case she go back to the 7-year-old first grader again.

"It may look like it's working now. But you don't know if it's permanent after 3 days. I'll have to keep a close watch on you just in case the antidote lost its effectiveness. In those 3 days, make sure you keep watch as well. Let me know if anything felt different or felt off.... " The small scientist trailed off as she made notes on her clipboard. "You may go home for the day, but again, contact me or the hagasei when anything happens."

Suddenly, Haibara turned around and looked at Shinichi very seriously and pointed at her with the tip of her pen.

"Remember, let. Us. Know. If. Anything. Happens. Got it?"

The high school detective scratched the back of her head in embarrassment. "Hai, hai. Of course Haibara. Thanks again for the antidote. I'm just glad to be back again."

The said scientist didn't say anything. She just turned around and walked away as she mumbled to herself. The hagasei only gave Shinichi a kind smile. The detective shook her head. Well, first day back as Shinichi was here and she was not about to miss out on that.

The detective immediately rushed back to the Kudo manor. Subaru (aka Akai) had already moved out of there so the whole place belonged to Shinichi once again. As soon as she got back home, the first thing she did was to take a walk in the Beika park. It had been a while since she had taken a stroll so she decided to go take a breather.

The detective changed into a comfy white turtle neck sweater and a blue skirt before going running out of the door with a scarf and a long coat. She looked around the scenery before her. It was autumn and leaves were already turning red. The air smelled of pumpkin spice and cinnamon. The chirpy detective was so happy that soon she had bumped straight into someone without looking.

Shinichi stumbled backwards. Just as she closed her eyes and was expecting a close contact with the ground until she realized that she didn't fall. The detective peeked out and was soon fascinated by a pair of indigo eyes staring at her. For a minute, she was lost in those orbs.

"Uh, are you okay?" Came the voice of the owner of the indigo eyes. It was cheerful and full of life with a mix of flirtatiousness.

"Ah- I... I'm alright.." she looked away blushing, aware of the arm that was wrapped around her slim waist that broke her from the fall.

"Ah, where are my manners." Said the stranger as he let go of Shinichi. Then, with a wave of his slender fingers, a blue rose appeared before Shinichi's eyes.

"Boku wa Kuroba Kaito. Douzo yoroshiku! (My name is Kuroba Kaito, nice to meet you!)" Kaito said as he took a bow while offering the flower to Shinichi.

The girl blushed pink. "Watashi wa Kudo Shinichi. Tantei desu ne douzo yoroshiku." (I'm Kudo Shinichi, a detective. Nice to meet you too.)

"Tantei eh? So you're that famous-" before Kaito have a chance to finish his sentence, his mouth was immediately covered by a very stressed Shinichi.

"Shush! I'm trying to keep a low profile! Don't be so loud!" Shinichi hushed. " I can't really explain how or why. But please, don't spread the fact that I'm around. I'm supposed..... To be dead."

With that, Shinichi had a very serious expression. Kaito noticed it but decided to keep a poker face. "Ah, I see...." He trailed off. Whatever the reason it may be, it seems like his favorite critic can't tell him why she's been disappearing for some time and suddenly popped out like that. Something told him not to pry.

It's not that Kaito doesn't know where Shinichi had gone to or who she is. In fact, he remembered her clearly as that moment she fired a bullet at his direction at that fateful night a year back. Kaito recalled the adrenaline rush as he tried to make a rather embarrassing escape from the detective's sharp, piercing blue eyes. He couldn't stare into them. No matter how much more exquisite they are than the bluest sapphire. Kaito just couldn't. He was afraid that as soon as he make eye contact, the pair of truth-seeing eyes would drill a hole in his soul and shatter his pokerface of a mask.

"..... Earth to Kuroba-kun, daijoubu desu ka? (Are you okay?)" Shinichi waved her hand in front of Kaito's face with a concerned expression. "You haven't been speaking and you look exhausted-"

Indeed. There were quite some heavy bags under the magician's eyes as the night before he managed to pull another successful heist and pranking a certain blond detective who vowed to catch him while cursing loudly as he was left behind with temporary green hair dye. Kaito chuckled. "Oh nothing. Just feeling the fatigue of the night before. I had a huge exam that came up so I stayed up all night. It's nothing other than the highschooler trouble. Wouldn't you agree, Shin-chan?" He winked and smirked, flustering Shinichi in the process. "Also, please feel free to call me Kaito."

"D-don't call me Shin-chan! Sure we've just met but we're not that close to be calling each other by the nicknames!" Shinichi looked away, blushing and pouting in the same time."So please keep your distance, Kuroba-kun".

Kaito sighed. The high school detective is just as much of a tsundere and snappy as usual. But he's not the type to give up very easily. He only grinned back and got another blue rose out of nowhere. "A beautiful rose for a beautiful lad- achoo!" Kaito's sentence was interrupted by a rather loud sneeze. Shinichi gasped and bowed her head in apology.

"I'm so sorry for keeping you Kuroba-kun!" Shinichi gushed. "It's cold and yet I'm keeping you.... Do you want to.... Perhaps come over to my manor and warm up before going your way?"

Kaito was very much appreciative of the offer as he was only clothed in a dressy shirt and very thin suit pants. The nerve of the magic performance had left him feeling very hot and made him leave the rest of his top by the water fountain nearby. Kaito shuddered, the warmness had left him. "S-sure. Why not. I'd love to see what Tantei-chan's place looks like." He teased while packing up his stuff. In the blink of an eye, Kaito finished. It was so fast that even the detective herself was quite amazed of how fast he's actually managed it.

"Ready?" Kaito asked as he appeared beside Shinichi. Poor Shinichi, she was so baffled that she barely made out what she was saying before the the two was on their way back to the Kudo manor.

While they were walking, the two were both silent, each filled with their own thoughts. It was Kaito who broke the awkward moment.

"So Tantei-chan....." He began. "You've said that you are currently staying low in profile. What do you exactly mean by that? I mean, you were the most famous detective in Tokyo. There were almost no one that haven't heard of the name 'Kudo Shinichi'. So why staying low?"

The said detective froze in her tracks, forming a small battle in her head.

"Should I trust him? I just met him....." A voice ran in her head. But her instinct told her otherwise. After much battling and curious stares from the magician, she sighed and faced him.

"I'll tell you. But you have to promise me that you won't tell anyone else." She said gravely. "I don't usually tell anyone something like this, but because I trust you, I'll tell you."

Kaito only nodded silently, signalling Shinichi to go on. Taking a deep breath, Shinichi begin telling him her tales. Of how she was following the BO members, discovery their illegal trade, being discovered, shrunk and how her life was living as Conan. By the end of the story, Kaito started at her in shock. "Y-you're Meiantei-!? B-but how?"

Now, it was Shinichi's turn to gasp. "W-what did you just say-?" She immediately put up her guard up against Kaito as she took a step backwards. They were in a dark alleyway. No one ever passes this area often this late at night, and even if Shinichi was to scream, no one would be able to hear her. "Did you just call me 'Meitantei'-? Who are you, Kuroba Kaito." She asked again, as there is only one person who ever called her Meiantei. And he happened to be her worst rival and secret crush.

Hearing his whole name being announced and recovering from the shock that Shinichi is Conan, Kaito for a minute stood speechless as he was trying to process the information. Until Shinichi repeated her question again did he realize that he's messed up, big time.

"Shinichi-, I'm sorry.... I-....." Kaito stuttered. Shinichi only glared at him coldly with her azure blue eyes. "I repeat for the last time, don't lie to me. Who. Are. You.?" She narrowed her eyes to a slit as she crossed her arms. Kaito lowered his head. It was his fault that he might never get to confess to Shinichi of his feelings for her. But he had to be honest. So he sighed and looked into her eyes.

"You must've have guessed. Of course, for a brilliant detective like you, I have nowhere to hide. Yes. It is I, the Moonlight Phantom. Kaitou KID." Slowly, a smug begin to form on his face as he put his poker face on. "Looks like we'll have a lot to talk about tonight~" he said seductively as he slowly approached the unguarded detective. She slowly backed away, her heart beating wildly. She was fearful. What does he wanted do to her?

As his steps echoed closer, Shinichi shut her eyes in despair. "Help me..... someone. Anyone. Help me....."

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

Author's Note:

Cliffhanger! Yay! UwU. Anyways, if you're at this point of the story, you must've had patience to finish the entire chapter. Congratulations! I'm so honored that I'm so entertaining to the point that you're able to bear with me until the end of chapter 1. If you like it like this, I'll continue to write longer chapters for your satisfaction. Please bear with me as the updates may be coming slowly. But I hope you like this chapter! (Psst chapter 2 is on the way UwU)

[curious-menace]

Hey can I get a headcanon of any riddler of your fancy finding his partners hidden treasure trove of sex toy goodies after stooping around their home, probably while they're out and how they'd react?

oh ho! any riddler?! this is a blank check for mayhem! 

i have naughty hands and no self control so ima do all my riddlers hahahah

this is only a lil ns fw so no below the cut this time 

Arkham riddler

oh.

OH.

First response is he goes BRIGHT RED. H-He was looking for something else, like an allen key or a pack of batteries or something! He didn't mean to snoop! He’ll throw all the toys back in the drawer or box and hurry away like nothing happened. he did find batteries but was to embarrassed to use them.

his face is going to be bright red for hours, you’ll easily be able to tell something is up but he wont tell you what.

but that being said, hes not going to be able to stop thinking about them. he feels a little naughty for doing it but hes imagining you using them, on him, on yourself. the idea is filthy to him but very intriguing.

Don't expect him to EVER mention it again but if YOU brought up the idea or told him you had some toys to play with, he’d have a hard time hiding his excitement. He hasn't stopped thinking about them since and he has some IDEAS. 

Blacklight Riddler

oh ho! rubbing his little fingerless gloved hands in glee. treasure trove is the right word to use, all his christmases have come at once when he finds this gold mine. 

He knew you were kinky but he had no idea you were THIS kinky, why would you keep this from him??? 

hes like a child in a candy store. what does this one do??? ohh this one vibrates! ooh a purple and green one, did you get this specially for him?

Don't be surprised if you come home and find him elbow deep in your drawer or box still rummaging and exploring, possibly with condoms scattered around him like confetti and bondage rope around his neck like a scarf. 

He’s going to ask right away to play with some of these. he might even sneak off to use them by himself but he will GLADLY let you do the hard work. 

He’s going to want to go to the sex toy shop with you. can you get some couples toys? will you peg him?? OH! what about some of those cool remote control toys??? he can make some custom ones for you both to use if you want! Man is going to be bouncing off the walls, you're going to need to get him to calm down before you can do anything. he’s enthusiastic to say the least.

BTAS Riddler

oh? what on earth is th-AGH! *flings a wobbly pink dick across the room in a panic*. Que overdramatics . lots of “my eyes are SOILED! MY HANDS WILL NEVER BE CLEAN AGAIN!” 

Will probably screech “WHY DO YOU EVEN HAVE THIS?!” into an empty house.

i think its the shock more than anything. he’s a germaphobe and he wasn't wearing his gloves while he was rummaging and he wasn't expecting to touch something so...intimate with his bare hands. this has ABSOLUTELY been inside you and it feels...off for him to touch it. He hopes to god you are as particular about cleaning these as you are about the rest of your cleaning.

once the initial fright wears off, he probably feels a bit guilty for nosing about. He wasn't looking for your intimates specifically, he was just being inquisitive, maybe looking for birthday or christmas presents. I think like arkham riddler, he’d probably be unable to get the image out of his head. he'd probably have to go back for another look. 

he has to work up the courage to talk about it. he’s probably expecting to get yelled at, he shouldn't have been rummaging through your things in the first place.he doesn't REALLY need to confront you about this. but he’s insecure as all hell and he needs to know, is he not good enough? is he not satisfying you? why do you need these toys if you have him? please be gentle in explaining, whatever your answer is. 

Original riddler

so freaking blase about the whole thing. you could leave them in the fridge or something and he’d be like “hmm, cheese, ham, dildo....hey y/n we’re nearly out of milk!” 

he doesn't exactly want dicks or fleshlights left out around his apartment but he’s not so insecure about you having them. he knows he cant be there for you 24/7. maybe your schedules are conflicting, maybe you just want some quite alone time, he’s not judging, he does it too.

might tease you a little about your taste in toys. like if you have massive dicks he’s going to call you a size queen, regardless of your gender. or if you like weird ones like that windmill oral thing he’s going to call you a kinky lil freak .

i don't think he has any of his own but he’d be quite happy to use yours on you if you wanted.

unlike the others, he probably respects your privacy enough to not go looking for them or even rummaging through your things. but he is childish as all hell. if you left them out in a shared space he’s going to mess around with them, like pretending to give you a neck massage only to bust out a hitachi wand or something.

despite his bravado and not really minding that you have them, his mouth will go a little dry if you bring up the idea of domming him by using them on him . that's....an intriguing idea. 

Telltale riddler 

well. hes not THRILLED about this discovery. But given how often he’s gone, either for work or running from the law, he cant exactly blame you. you have needs he’s clearly not meeting.

he’s pretty tempted to take your batteries away from you for badness. 

he gets a devious idea looking at your toys. He’s offended! how could you replace him with plastic and silicone?! he’s much better than any toy. guess he’ll just have to prove it to you. 

he’ll probably confront you as soon as you get home. something like “been keeping secrets from me?” but like. in a sexy voice, not an angry one. 

He’s obviously a little ticked off but tries to keep it playful. you can definitely expect him to spend the day making it up to you. he’s going to tease you, hes going to ask if you think of him while you use them , maybe even use some of them on you himself but pulling away at the last moment as punishment . if you want relief you’ll have to ask him nicely.

he’d be absolutely speechless if you flipped the script on him. listen he might be 60 but suddenly he’s a teenager again, embarrassed and unable to form coherent sentences in the face of your exuberant confidence. once he gets his footing back however you two are going to be playing hella games. he’s going to want to sext while he’s gone, send you naughty photos and get some back. maybe the toys aren't such a bad thing after all?

Zero year riddler

you’ll for sure know if this riddler has found your stash. you’ll come home and he’ll be drinking out of a dick shaped straw, wearing those dumb penis glasses you see at bachelorette parties. he’ll have decorated with rope or feather boas , taken polaroid photos of him posing with your toys and stuck them to the walls. he’ll have  a smug look on his face but play totally innocent like “something you wanna tell me, y/n?” Shame is not an emotion this riddler is capable of. 

he was looking through your things on purpose because he’s a nosy shit. He likes knowing your secrets to mess with you later. He wished he had a camera to record his reaction upon finding THIS secret.sheer unfiltered joy  .He’s for sure recording your reaction to him putting you on blast so you two can laugh about it later.

 he might feel a LITTLE guilty depending on your reaction. if you react badly or really embarrassed he might feel bad for crossing a line and apologise . He’s still a little shit about it but he’s an apologetic little shit. 

all of these riddlers pretend they're the most confident person in the room but , like the others, if you turn your charm and confidence on him, he’ll crumble like a dry sandcastle. 

He doesn't want to admit he has NO clue what any of these toys do. like why is this one shaped like an egg?...it goes WHERE?!

rare moment of nervousness from him if you ask him to use them on you/ on him. again, he doesn't know what the heck he’s doing with toys but he’ll be damned if he admits that. feel free to mess with him as payback. this is what he gets for running his mouth and poking his nose into other peoples business 

there you go nonnie! i actually got this one out pretty quickly, i wasnt expecting to do it that fast hah. i like doing asks like this, that are a little nsfw but not so much i have to hide them under a read more.

that being said, full nsfw asks are my jam XD

Got something you wana ask me? feel free to send me an ask or a dm! im always game to talk about our favorite curious menace 💚💜

[uwua3]

friendly neighborhood poltergeist.

🌻👘 rurikawa yuki.

summary: no one likes a dead boy, especially not you

dedication: trans anon ♂ — i listened to this song and thought of you! 

warnings: angst, death, gender roles, ghosts, hate crimes, heartbreak, identity–based discrimination, jealousy/envy, mentions of violence, murder, paranormal/supernatural, spiders

author’s note: in the spirit of halloween month, please accept this scarily haunting song fic of “friendly neighborhood poltergeist”! enjoy~ ☆★ i haven’t written for yuki in so long so i’m so happy! :D i hope you like it as much as i do~ happy october!! 

word count: 2,595

music: friendly neighborhood poltergeist – rory webley

BEEN STARING AT YOU FOR DAYS,

BUT, YOU NEVER SEEM TO LOOK MY WAY

MY “I LOVE YOU’s” IN YOUR ALPHABET SOUP SEEM TO GO TO WASTE

BEEN KEEPING MYSELF AT BAY

NOW EVERYTHING’S GONE PEAR–SHAPED

Yuki remembered the day he was murdered.

It was Halloween 1987. Boys weren’t supposed to wear girly costumes, he knew that very well. Yet, when Yuki put on that dress instead of his normal uniform for boys only, he felt like himself for the first time in his entire life. It was nearing his high school graduation, he would’ve had another year or so until becoming one of St. Flora’s distinguished alumni. before he was killed behind the school building.

When Yuki died, he came back to see none of those boys were ever arrested. His murderers walked free and lived the life he didn’t, all because he wore a dress. Yuki now haunted this world in the very outfit he was dragged to hell in, the fragile fabric still ripped at the hem and stained by the very dirt students still crossed to this day. Forgotten in his small town and buried six feet under, Rurikawa Yuki became a ghost forever.

Why was he still here? There was nothing to live for, it’s not like he could’ve been resurrected back to life. Yuki wanted to move on, instead of walking the halls of the school that hated him. How could he keep staring in the face of teachers who never liked his bow instead of the usual tie? Why was he forced to watch generations of students graduate when he was removed of that opportunity? Yuki was eternally seventeen, forever and always.

All because he wore a dress.

Yuki haunted St. Flora for decades, just for revenge on all of those who let him die, even if it wasn’t their fault. Yuki was dead—until, you.

I GUESS BOYS WITH BEATING HEARTS

BEAT A BOY BURIED IN THE BACKYARD

EVERY TIME I TRY TO MAKE CONTACT

FEELS LIKE A SUPERNATURAL ATTACK

MISINTERPRET THEN YOU REACT

October. Pumpkin vines grew around his orange–laced boots, the autumn sunsets passing through his invisible form. Yuki missed the way candy tasted upon his tongue, how different fall treats were compared to the rest of the year. As Yuki walked past black cats that gathered, he glanced at the apple tree in the center of the school’s courtyard.

As a ghost, cold didn’t mean anything anymore. Students headed home in their coziest knit garments—no boys in dresses, luckily. Yuki sighed, but his breath didn’t solidify into the usual visible sign like it did all those years ago. Instead, cobwebs were spun in the corners of the building, spiders crawling along the walls. Spiders could feel the chilly autumn season, Yuki suddenly became jealous of those eight–legged creatures.

The crunch of falling leaves made Yuki turn slowly, his orange eyes finding you. You wore the St. Flora uniform, and it hadn’t changed from his years of attending. Not paying much mind, Yuki faced the red apples, watching them ripen away from the previously dismal September. As a boy, he used to reach up and grab it with his own gloved hands, the hard surface of the apple foreshadowing a delicious near future. Yuki couldn’t remember the taste of apples, did they taste any different?

“Do you want an apple?”

I GUESS IT’S BACK TO THE ATTIC,

I’M SO DRAMATIC, IT’S SO SAD

BUT, THE LAST TIME I LET SOMEONE INSIDE,

I WAS BURIED ALIVE

Yuki didn’t move, not until he felt a hand land on his shoulder. Letting out a scream, Yuki stumbled back from the first human contact he’s received ever since his death. Before you could say another word, Yuki disappeared out of sight, the memory of a fading boy wearing a purple and orange dress terrifying you to the core. You looked around, your eyes frantically searching for the witch–themed boy that was just in front of you.

Behind the tree, Yuki rested his hand above his chest, wishing he could feel the rapid heartbeat of fear from his past life. The burn of your touch tingled upon his skin, making him almost feel alive. Yuki had never, ever, been seen by someone—especially... touched. He had forgotten how warm living people were; had Yuki always been this cold all this time?

It was almost harvest moon, so you took a few steps back, about to leave. Until, you didn’t. You reached up and grabbed an apple. Putting it gently on the worn cobblestone bench wrapped around the apple tree, you took another glance before departing for good.

Nothing had changed in St. Flora’s courtyard, where Yuki was murdered. Pumpkins decorated the space festively, welcoming in the frights and scares of Halloween town. The cats spoke in an unknown tongue that couldn’t be translated by the human ear, possibly sharing the ancient knowledge witches passed on to their familiars. Spiders continued building their webs that would be destroyed by irresponsible, wreckless students the following early morning. Autumn browned the apple tree’s leaves as they fell like a goodbye, away they went. Except, a single red apple was left for Yuki.

When Yuki sat next to the apple, his skirt spread out across the seat and the witch’s hat upon his head tilted down. Stopping, Yuki shuddered from his own fear, not of the October cold incoming upon his town. Without wasting more time (after all, he’s had decades to do nothing), Yuki wrapped his hand around the apple.

He could feel it. It was hard and the surface wasn’t bruised at all. You picked the perfect apple. Shakingly bringing it to his mouth, Yuki ate something for the first time in years.

Yuki left the core of the apple in the same spot as before. It was the next day when you found it, searching the courtyard again but finding no one. Yuki was sitting right besides you, however, carefully watching your reaction. Something inside compelled him to say anything, and as Yuki was about to thank you, a male voice called for you just at the gates of the school.

You turned around with a smile, the most alive thing in the season of death. You left without another thought of the witch costume out of the corner of your eye, Yuki’s frown etched on his face as he witnessed another student pull you into an one–armed hug. Subconsciously, Yuki raised his hand, ghosting it above the last place you touched him, his shoulder suddenly cold.

Yuki wanted to touch you like that, too. What did that boy do to deserve your life like that? The apple didn’t taste so good, anymore.

HI, I’M YOUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD POLTERGEIST

NOBODY EVER LOOKS AT ME TWICE

I’M USED TO BEING SEE–THROUGH, BUT IT FEELS SO BAD WHEN IT HAPPENS WITH YOU

WISH YOU’D SEE ME THE WAY I SEE YOU

Yuki didn’t breathe anymore, not since his last breath with dirt suffocating his throat. Sometimes, Yuki looked at his burial with curiousity, strangely wondering how decayed his corpse was. What if, he never died? Was he still alive under all that earth? Most likely not, he didn’t know if he wanted to be anymore.

Yet, seeing you was like a breath of fresh air. Staying in the same seat on the same bench you liked to visit, Yuki used his eternal time to watch you. You, who liked resting your bag on his lap as you read a book, laying your head on the tree trunk with your ungloved fingers holding the binding. You, who sometimes read out loud, as if you were aware there was a dead boy who was slowly falling for you like the autumn leaves. You enjoyed picking up the courtyard cats even if their fur messed up your pristine uniform, talking to them as if they were human.

Yuki liked how you were often alone, as selfish as that sounded. Between classes, you seldom traveled with friends but instead, started hanging by the courtyard more often. Lunch was Yuki’s favorite pastime, because you spent a half hour or so just spending time with him. You would bring random little things, confidently talking to thin air as if it was elementary show & tell all over again.

“Candy?” Yuki said, looking over your shoulder to see you unwrap a piece of unfamiliar candy. It was a brand he didn’t recognize, times were changing, indeed. Expecting to be ignored, Yuki suddenly felt your hot breath on his cheek as you turned your head, seemingly staring straight through him. You couldn’t see Yuki, but you started anyway.

“Is that you?” Silence. You averted your gaze, your eyes meeting Yuki’s for a split second unintentionally. You carried on, but Yuki froze, as if frozen to the spot. Why did your eyes make him pretend there was blood rushing through his veins, as if he wasn’t buried six feet under? Hovering over the surface of his cheeks, Yuki knew he’d be blushing right now if that was possible.

“I knew it. I knew you were here the entire time.” You gratefully admitted, a warm red tint on the tip of your nose. Yuki wished he was the scarf around your neck, to be so close to you and feel your beating pulse. Yet, Yuki didn’t reply. He wasn’t underneath anymore, but it felt like he couldn’t breathe, like he was being buried alive all over again. What was this feeling? How did you give and take his life all at once?

After a moment or two of the wind brushing rustling the corn maize just beyond the fence, you flinched at the sound of the bell, telling you to go back to class. Yuki wanted to beg you to stay, you were his first friend in so long. Yuki knew it would’ve been stupid to hold onto you, a ghost couldn’t make contact as well as humans did.

So, he let you go. You stood up, about to leave to your last period before looking over your shoulder, sending a bright smile in Yuki’s general direction.

“I’ll bring you all my favorite candies on Halloween, okay?”

It would be the first Halloween where Yuku celebrated instead of mourning his death.

I’VE BEEN SPELLING MY NAME IN YOUR LEGO BRICKS

I DON’T KNOW HOW TO MAKE IT MORE OBVIOUS

YOU’RE CLOSE ENOUGH TO ALMOST TOUCH

BUT, NOT CLOSE ENOUGH TO HOLD

BEEN TRYNA MAKE MY MOVE

BUT, THAT DUDE KEEPS STEALING YOU

The weeks leading up to Halloween were the days where Yuki felt most alive, even including his life before death. You gave Yuki a purpose to live, making him stay in the courtyard for good as he waited for you impatiently. You two got to know each other more as you figured out ways for Yuki to communicate without words. Even if it was a slight change in the air or a push of a leave or a meow from a cat, you seemingly understood every intention of his. How did you know him so well? Why did he want to share so much?

As you felt inclined to spend more time in St. Flora’s courtyard, you and Yuki grew your relationship during the season of magic, where anything could happen. You began leaving gifts for Yuki as a way to thank him for being your friend, without ever asking to see him. For the first time in his afterlife, Yuki felt safe. As if nothing could ever hurt him, except... him.

You had a friend with teeth as sharp as the monster under your bed and a laughter that howled like a wolves. How could a person like you enjoy a beast like that man? It was Halloween year round with that boy, and Yuki instantly disappeared whenever he looked for you. In his sleazy uniform that harmed St. Flora’s prestigious reputation, that boy would touch you casually like it was nothing. It made Yuki’s fists clench and energy angry, it infuriated every part of him.

Worst part was, you liked it. Yuki could tell without even trying, you didn’t even hide it. You ate up all the attention like it was an apple pie, returning the gesture with an embarrassed flustered expression across your face. You would leave school with him hand in hand, smiling even bigger than you did with Yuki.

The afternoon before Halloween, the school bell ended your time together as you stood up, waving goodbye to your ghost boy. Yuki’s intuition was twisting his gut, the anxiety making his head spin as he impulsively reached out, his fingers curling around your wrist.

You stopped, feeling a tug holding you back. Your eyes met a green haired, orange eyed boy in a witch’s costume like the first time you both met. You blinked, and he was gone, but you could still imagine his hand and how soft it was on yours.

“You’ll come tomorrow night, right?”

You promised you would, and Yuki let you go, and inkling of suspicion arising in his heart. He trusted you. When that boy yelled your name with a smirk, Yuki closed his eyes to avoid the sight of you smiling back at that monster. He just didn’t trust him, that’s all.

Yuki wondered what types of candy you liked under the full moon tomorrow.

I DON’T KNOW WHY I TRIED

THIS REJECTION GOT ME FEELING COLD AS ICE

I DON’T WANNA DIE TWICE

IT WASN’T VERY FUN THE FIRST TIME

Yuki was ready. Stepping out from behind the apple tree, Yuki could feel himself manifest as a real person, not as a ghost. It had been a long month of practicing and working on this skill he didn’t know he could do before, but Yuki did it. All for you, he wanted to hold you even if it was just once.

The full moon on a Halloween night gave him enough energy to appear as a full apparition, fortunately. In his dress that got him killed, Yuki waited in his usual spot, listening for the crunch of autumn leaves to signal your arrival. Yuki waited, and waited, and waited.

It was midnight when Yuki realized you weren’t coming. You had lied, you broke your promise. A part of him wanted to keep waiting, making up every excuse in the book for your disappearance. But, he knew what happened. You chose that beast over him, you liked boys that were alive. Of course you did, what could a dead boy offer to someone alive?

Was this why Yuki came back as a ghost? To die again?

You ran into the courtyard, slipping past the security in the dead of night, the clock striking three. You were out of breath, dizzy with adrenaline as you carried a basket of candy. Usually, you would feel Yuki’s presence around, but, it was like... he was dead, for good.

You found nothing but a pair of lemon–yellow gloves that belonged to his costume upon the bench. You remembered how many times he insisted you protect your hands more, and tears threatened to fall from your eyes. Why did this feel so much like a goodbye? Was this the end?

He decided to give a gift back after all the ones you brought for him... why? As the pumpkin–shaped bag of candy dropped onto the ground, startling the creatures of October who witnessed you cry, you felt a hand ghost over your cheek. A single warm breath hovered over your lips, then nothing at all.

Rurikawa Yuki died twice.