#after the 'signal your understanding' incident with Boom

[bowtiesarecool11]

Mrs Flood, Empire of Death: "That mysterious traveller in time and space known as The Doctor...."

Missy, World Enough and Time: "I am that mysterious adventurerer in all of time and space known only as Doctor Who..."

[hacked-by-jake]

I did read your fanfiction idea post. And I didn't like. Because I feel idiotic with my idea, but still want to share it. Yeah. Let's go

And❗️ SPOILER WARNING❗️

A bunch of people thought that the way Adam was acting in his phone call reminded them of Jake, right? He's probably not gonna be Jake, but let's dive into that for a moment

Sometime after he had to go on the run, maybe around 3 years ago, Jake came to Redlog for some time. He met the group there under the name Adam (I forgot his last name)

Since then he has always spent a little time in Redlog whenever it was safe, told the group that he just had a job that needed him to travel a lot.

Fast forward, after the mine incident, Jake doesn't immediately even have time to contact MC, he just tries to get away.

He goes to Redlog in hopes to get Adam alivr again and as his cover. There he plans on contacting MC, but something happens. He finds something, figures out something (don't know what). Endangers himself again.

And he doesn't want MC to be in danger with him. So he tries to fix it. But it doesn't work out. (Hence the tarot card) It's too late, whatever the danger was, it found him. And he knows the only way to get out of that is his MC. The girl (or boy, I'm a female so that's easier to type rn) that dove into a kidnapping case without a second thought.

So he sends Eric MCs contact. He tries to call her, but the signal's already too bad.

The second time he calls her, Jake realises she wouldn't know his face. He doesn't get himself to tell her his name. But he also knows he needs her to keep going. He wants her to know that he survived the mine. Hence the "It'll seem impossible without me" blahblahblah.

I'd want MC to realise who Adam is xD And then, when they finally see each other again, hug & kiss & tell each other it's going to be okay. All while Eric stands there and is like "Eeeeh what?"

To be honest, I don't understand at all why you're feeling idiotic about it. This is such a cool and interesting idea! I had to giggle so hard when I read the last part. We sure need Eric to react to that, pahaha. Simply genius.

Also making the connection with people feeling like Adam is Jake and how he met the group and how MC gets involved is very thrilling.

I mean, you could do it this way or you could also say, something goes incredibly wrong and some of Jake's enemies find out about Jake and MC's relationship thingy. So Jake wants to deal with it himself and wants to solve this. He goes to the Greenside but it goes wrong and his enemy already planned to involve MC so Jake's enemy sets up everything, the tarot card etc to drag MC into it and to hurt Jake even more.

But enemy dude wasn't aware how incredibly good MC is and messed up with involving them because MC will definitely find Jake.

And I mean, imagine we would also bring the Duskwood characters into that. I mean, if MC has contact with the group again and Hannah and Lilly ask MC if they know where Jake is... And maybe MC already knows that Jake was kidnapped or whatever.

Should MC lie to his sister? Can they even lie or is that too obvious. All of this. And maybe enemy dude even find out about Hannah and Lilly and boom. Everyone is involved and ahhhh, the party is too big. xD

No, seriously, it's a very interesting and great idea. It sounds very logical and super exciting.

And I mean, it's a whole plot. It's amazing.

And no need to feel embarrassed or whatever, I really love it. And I thank you so much for sharing it with me and us. I really appreciate it. And I'm sure many others will like the idea as well! 💚

[itz-kiniz-blog]

Xanders survivors guilt, and a theory about Chariton!

Honestly I don’t see enough people asking; what exactly happened in chariton?? It’s what most believe was the thing Xander has survivors guilt for- but what even happened??

I personally have a theory. 

Spoilers for the second bonus episode below!!

During the episode, it’s evident that Xander has done research on the incident and even mentions that it was on the news. This makes It seem like this was a big incident. Considering Chariton is a poorer town. I can support this off how unnamed classmate mentioned that anyone in chariton barely had money. And the way unnamed classmate worded it, makes it seem like they might have known xander back in chariton (?) but that’s for another day. And it’s most likely a small town due to how the nearest hospital it’s literally miles away. Now, too, how they died. It’s evident at least one person but most likely the entire town of residents within chariton died. Xanders description of this is “rotting from the outside in. Your limbs would stop working before your organs did, and you would sit there and feel yourself die, and not be able to do anything.” I don’t know about you, but you know my first guess? *poison*. So, I googled it! The first result I get? Strychnine. What’s that you ask? Oh! It’s an ***odorless, white, bitter powder***. However, it can be mixed and used in solution. The effects? 

“Strychnine prevents the proper operation of the chemical that controls nerve signals to the muscles. The chemical controlling nerve signals works like the body’s “off switch” for muscles. When this “off switch” does not work correctly, muscles throughout the body have severe, painful spasms. Even though the person’s consciousness or thinking are not affected at first (except that the person is very excitable and in pain), eventually the muscles tire and the person can’t breathe.”

Or in other words, it stops your muscles and causes severe pain until you suffocate to death.

Doesn’t that sound like rotting from the outside in? Now, we can bring out one of the big boy questions of the hour. How were they poisoned? Simple, the river. It’s specified that it’s charitons only water source, and easy to access.

Boom. Also strychnine is commonly spread through contaminated water.

No one can recover because no one could afford medical treatment. Boom!! Dead chariton. But who poisoned the river? Who has the ability and access to strychnine so that they could poison the river? ***Duke Spurling.*** I believe that he did. He has obviously high status, and he’s known to xander as selfish. I believe that Duke spurling had a big influence on chariton, and then got tired of it. Saw it as a waste of time, so he dumped the poison within the river. This is also evident in a few other things. 

1. It took weeks to move the bodies.

While it’s understandable why they were understaffed, why couldn’t they make a funeral service? Why did it take them weeks? Unless someone was saying not to mention it. Hell, the episode's name is “visiting graves” so they had the materials too. So why didn’t they? Who told them  Not to do anything? Duke spurling.

2. The fact that he has the title Duke is suspicious. A high class title could give him high access.

3. Duke spurling can be connected to the country, since of the same last name. So he has a rich asset.

4. The chariton incident was only released to the public a MONTH after it occurred.

I believe this was done purposely so that no one would figure out how to save anyone within chariton. To make sure they die. However, who could manipulate the media? Maybe a million dollar company could pay off a few people. Keep ‘em silent. 

Also, this isn't the first time Strychnine specifically is used in DRDT. It’s Charles’ motive weapon, as mentioned in ch 1 ep 1

And that’s my theory!

Source of definition:

https://emergency.cdc.gov/agent/strychnine/basics/facts.asp

Bonus episode:

https://youtu.be/IbIxj5_kPCI

[sevikasupremacy]

Comfort - Chapter 9

LOYALITY - Sevika X Reader Series

Warnings: None

Word: 1,113

Previous Chapter

Chapter 10 is up!

Summary: You comfort Sevika after the firelights incident.

“She fired on us.”

“There’s always mishaps in battle.” Silco examined the shimmer shipments, the back of his chair facing Sevika.

“It wasn’t a mishap, she froze up and lost her shit.” Sevika spat, her heavy hand on your lap. It was a habit of hers. Even though you’ve been working for both of them for years now, Sevika never trusted you to be near Silco. Ever. That man is not reliable.

You held onto her hand, stroking it with the pad of your fingers, trying to calm her down.

“Sir, you need to understand. The entire ship is destroyed!” You defended Sevika, standing up boldly. Sevika looked up at you, her hand still gripping onto your wrists, signaling you to sit back down.

“The firelights were her target.”

“And? Jinx was supposed to guard the cargo. That was my order for her if she was going to come.”

A faint echo of your voice was heard before the room turned completely silent.

You weren’t soft with Jinx. Not at all. You used to be, but that was when she was young. Silco pampered Jinx from the beginning, giving her advantages to doing literally anything. Not until she started growing up and became a threat to everyone. But apart from all of that, you do love Jinx. That child just needs to know when to stop and today’s damage was caused by her.

“I could’ve handled those brats. She's a problem and we all know it.” Sevika spoke again, her eyebrows knitted in frustration.

“We? Who’s we?” Silco finally turned his chair around, revealing his scarred face. He raised an eyebrow, not content with whatever was coming out of Sevika’s mouth. Sevika averted her gaze, looking down at her boots.

“I expected better from you than excuses. It was your job to make sure things went smoothly. You failed, don’t disappoint me again.” Silco glared at the both of you before turning his attention back to the documents in his hands.

“But—“ You were stopped by Sevika who was grabbing your waist with both of her hands, leading you out of his office.

The loud booming music coming from the jukebox roamed your surroundings once again.

“Come with me first,” Sevika whispered in your ear, her raspy tone making you flinch a bit. She grabbed your wrist, leading you to her office which was just down the hallway. As soon as the both of you entered, she slammed the door shut, locking it.

“I’ll talk to Jinx about thi—“

“Don’t.” Sevika sat on the couch, her legs spreading apart for better comfort.

“Enough headaches for today.” She leaned back, covering her eyes with her arm. You let out a sigh before plopping down beside her, leaning your head onto the side of her muscular arm.

“Ignore Silco. You did your best.” You caressed the side of Sevika’s face, turning her face to you. She let out a soft exhale before relaxing into your touch. You looked at her for a moment.

“Well it’s all my fault anyway, he can’t really blame anyone else, can he–

You brought your lips to her forehead.

This was the first time your lips had ever touched Sevika.

Sevika grunted in surprise, her body stilled as she processed what just happened. She didn’t move, her eyes fixated on you blankly.

You quickly let go of her, averting your gaze as you stood up from your seat. Before you could take a step toward the door, a hand gripped onto your arm, pulling you back to the sofa. You let out a startled squeak, losing your balance as you stumbled onto Sevika’s lap. You stopped yourself from colliding with her, both of your hands gripping onto her shoulders. Both of your foreheads slightly brushed against each other.

“Let’s go back home.”

“We’re not done with work yet–”

“Uh-uh,” You kissed her forehead again but this time, you kissed longer, “Relax…”. You hummed against her forehead as you felt a strong pair of arms wrapping around your waist.

Sevika slowly pulled you closer, resting her chin on your shoulder as she slowly exhaled. You let out a soft chuckle before caressing the back of her head, the pad of your fingers slowly massaging it. Minutes later, you felt the weight of the older woman getting heavier, causing you to let out a small grunt. You straightened your back, nudging Sevika’s back with your index finger.

“We can’t sleep here..” You giggled as soon as you saw Sevika’s drowsy eyes when she lifted her head. One of her eyes was half open due to the little nap she had on your shoulder. Her bottom lip slightly stuck out, forming into a pout. Her mouth quivered as she slowly puckers them, her eyes on your forehead. She hesitantly leaned forward, thinking if she should do it or not. But before she could make another move, you touched her dark lips with your forehead, letting out a content sigh before looking back at the older woman. Sevika paused as she tried to hold in her smile.

“Did the firelights hurt you?” You broke the silence, pushing aside her poncho, examining her body. No bruises or cuts, good.

“Did it hurt?” You held onto her mechanical arm as you talked. Sevika slightly shook her head before giving a pat on your head adoringly.

“As long as you’re not injured, I’m fine,” She lowered her hand to your shoulder, “They didn’t do anything to you right?” You noticed her tone started to turn harsher.

“I’m perfectly fine.” You smiled at her before leaning your forehead against her chest, closing your eyes for a moment. You needed a break from all the hectic situations that had happened today too. You wanted to lay in bed and rest… with Sevika.

“I want to go home…” You pouted, wrapping your arms around her waist.

“Then let’s go.” Sevika grunted as she stood up, carrying you with her. You immediately wrapped your legs around her waist, startled by the sudden action from the older woman.

“Let me down, the others are going to see–”

“And?” She readjusted her hands on your bottom, making sure that you wouldn’t fall. You held onto the nape of her neck, nuzzling into the crook of her neck. You were exhausted… or it’s either you’re trying to hide your rose-tinted cheeks from the others.

As you closed your eyes nervously as soon as Sevika went downstairs toward the exit, you could hear gasps and murmurs from all corners of the tavern. Somehow, you didn’t feel ashamed… you were proud. Proud that you were able to be this close to the scary lady of Zaun.

.

.

.

Notes: Y’all I’m so sorry this chapter took long 😭 But it’s finally here! Hope you guys enjoy it.

Taglist: @holysmokesblog @illicittete @honeyr4ven @im-sidney @meetmeinthervng @uwuttaja @mayalopxz @tiptoeingquietly @trashbod

[divinolenta]

comforting childe and diluc after a nightmare 

character x gender neutral reader, fluff (angst?)/sfw

trigger warning: brief mention of blood and death

additional notes: this was requested by a lovely anon ♡ i had fun writing these (had the most fun picturing what nightmares they would have but you didn’t hear that from me)! i listened to “the moon song” by karen o while writing childe’s scenario and “butterfly’s repose” by zabawa for diluc’s, which is why i’ve included lyrics in their respective scenarios! feel free to imagine yourself singing another song to them, if you’d like :) there are potential spoilers for their backstories, so read at your own risk.

childe:

he is cold, frigid air nipping at his skin viciously as he flees, blinking away snowflakes that cling to his eyelashes. pursued by ravenous wolves and beasts, he loses his footing, falling into a seemingly innocent fissure in the earth. recognizing the dark realm that haunts his memories, he panics, searching for an escape. no, please, not this again. 

too late, he lands, trapped in this hell once again. pain jolts through his bones and a gasp leaves his lips when he places weight on his sprained ankle. struggling to stand, childe grips the sword in his hand, hope dying when he finds that several monsters block his path. slaughtering them quickly, childe wipes off the blood that splattered on his face. 

“b-brother?”

he turns around, shock evident on his face when he sees his younger siblings, cowering away from him. the snow surrounding them is stained with crimson, and his hands are slick, viscous blood slowly dripping on the floor. tonia wraps her arms around anthon and teucer, shielding them with her body. childe takes a step forward, and extends a trembling hand toward them, calling their names weakly. 

“stay back! you....you monster!” a shriek rips from tonia’s throat, gripping her brothers’ closer to her, her terrified expression mirroring theirs. childe recoils at the lack of recognition in their gazes. no matter how heroic and righteous he believed himself to be,  he is merely a tainted soul, a monster who could never redeem himself.

lurching awake, childe’s momentary relief is quickly replaced by bitter contempt. a nightmare? he almost laughs, running a hand through his mussed hair, but his hammering heart and shaking hands tell another story. childe needs a breather, and he eyes the door, longing to escape the past and lose himself in the beauty that nature offers. perhaps he will meander along the ocean and watch the waves kiss the shore and recede, and let it wash away his sins. sitting up, he swings his legs over the side of the bed, but it creaks underneath his weight and childe cringes at the sound that resonates throughout the room. 

“where are you going?” you ask groggily, squinting blearily at him. 

“i just,” childe begins, but before he could continue, shudders ran through his body, interrupting him. you tug him back into the warmth of the duvet, hands cradling his face while you peer at him in concern.

“i’m sorry...” childe squeezes his eyes shut, hands clenching tightly. he tries to calm down his erratic breaths, apologizing meekly as his hands try to nudge you away. 

what if he hurts you too?

but you hush him, pulling him closer so that his head rests against your collarbone, limbs tangled together. 

you start to sing, the familiar melody striking a chord in his heart. your voice is hoarse and muddled with sleep, but you gradually fall into a soothing rhythm, like the euphonious and undulating cadences of a piano.

i'm lying on the moon

my dear, i'll be there soon

it's a quiet starry place

time's we're swallowed up in space

we're here a million miles away

childe sheds his brash and arrogant exterior and allows himself to get pulled under by the overwhelming tides of his emotions, just like the waves of the ocean that he adores so much. he feels like he’s fourteen again, but this time, you’re here with him. he grasps your shirt tightly, and anchors himself, tears leaking from his closed eyes, falling on to your skin, seeping into the fabric of your shirt. 

there's things i wish i knew

there's no thing I'd keep from you

it's a dark and shiny place

but with you my dear, i'm safe

and we're a million miles away 

he is consoled by the fact that you do not view him as a monster, and when he’s with you, he can be whoever he chooses to be. he does not need to be tartaglia, childe or even the ajax he used to be, rather, he is content with simply being your lover and spending every hour of the day with you. 

diluc:

the moment diluc sees his surroundings, he knows. he knows what’s going to happen, and how everything will go down. the carriage rocks back and forth as it travels over the uneven path, and everything is calm. too calm. swallowing thickly, he turns to his father, heart twinging at the sight of his familiar figure, with hair of flame, so similar to his own. 

horses whinny frantically in the distance, and diluc tries to warn his father, but is cut off by the carriage toppling over as they lose control of the reins. a roar shakes the very earth and diluc is thrown against the side of the carriage, hissing in pain when his hand gingerly presses against the bruise on his head.

“father! wait!” diluc scrambles to his feet when his father begins to rise to his feet to investigate and protect the transport fleet. his father looks at him inquiringly, and diluc advances, clutching the hem of his coat in an effort to make him stay.

“you mustn’t go, father, your life will be in peril.” he implores, and even though he tries his best to keep his voice steady, the anguish he truly feels does not fully dissipate.

“i can’t afford to lose you again” is what diluc wants to say, but can’t muster the courage to form the words. 

“my son, is that not what a man like your father should do?” his father rests a heavy hand on diluc’s shoulder, and his heart sinks in response. 

“but, father-” diluc presses, but his father simply shoots him a reprimanding look.

“i’ll be back soon, just wait for me here.” he lets out a booming laugh, and ruffles diluc’s hair with an affectionate gaze, before walking off, summoning his weapon. 

horrified, diluc calls out, but his pleas fall on deaf ears. he desperately wills his body to move, but it’s like vines have erupted from the dirt and tangled around his legs, trapping him in a prison of thorns. 

all he can do is stand there, watching from the sidelines. even as his father gulps his dying breaths, all diluc can do is clutch on to him, and pray to whatever god that still remains, while the very light of his soul eclipses.

and like an incompetent fool, all diluc does is weep and regret. 

hands shake his shoulders, and diluc snaps out of his dream, released from the tormenting illusion. his gaze meets yours, and when he reaches up to touch his face, his fingers come away damp from the tears that streak his skin.

you’re seated on the bed, sheets pooling around your waist. your brow furrows, and diluc opens his mouth, about to let false reasurances tumble from his lips to alleviate the look of unease you don. how many times had he dreamed of the incident? how many times would he continue to blame himself?

diluc himself does not know the answer. 

you lean forward, hands tenderly brushing away the tears that remain, and diluc loses himself in your eyes. eyes really are the window to the soul, he thinks, everything is so clear, like how he knows that the sun will rise, signalling a new beginning. your eyes betray every emotion that flicker through their depths.

“i’m okay.” he whispers, but both you and him know that he’s lying. diluc lies back down, and he gestures for you to do so as well, but you situate him so he lays with his head in your lap. 

you card your fingers through his hair carefully, your delicate touches evoking a chill that runs down his spine. you begin to hum softly, voice lilting in an ethereal melody before words surface and accompany it. diluc feels like he’s simultaneously floating and sinking. he wants to weep, for barbatos was lenient enough to grant him such a caring and understanding lover to someone as undeserving as he is.

for a moment, he wonders if you are perhaps hestia incarnate. the warmth and love with which you behold him with is surreal, and god knows that diluc is not capable of replicating or returning such affection. 

the shadows in your head

they've got you down again

got you feelin' low

your voice is an intimate whisper, and diluc welcomes the warmth that it entwines him in. he catches your hand, bringing it to his lips so he can press a chaste kiss against it. moonlight slants against your features, and diluc can only stare in awe as you continue to sing, body slightly swaying along as your hand aimlessly caresses his hair. 

but it's time to rest, now 

let it all melt now

wipe your tears 

“thank you.” he murmurs, eyes falling close as your voice lulls him into a sleep. one that he knows will not be plagued with nightmares. you don’t respond, but diluc can hear the hint of a smile in your voice.

it’s a sight to behold: diluc ragnvindr, a man with a renowned reptuation of having a heart of ice, melting in your embrace. out of everything, perhaps your love is what ignites him, and brings back the fervor that was once lost. 

[squishmallow36]

Keeper of the Lost Prepositions - One

Word count: 1.3k

Tw: just a bit of general Dex angst because it's pre-Sophie, bad-match-ness, you know.

Note: Sorry for blowing up your notifs today! In total it’ll be roughly 20k words released this weekend. I'm sorry if this doesn't live up to everyone's expectations.

Taglist (lmk if you want to be added/removed) @stellar-lune @ichor-on-my-hands @kamikothe1and0lny @nyxpixels @snowflakewolves @poppinspop @crystallinewalker @uni-seahorse-572 @tiergan-andrin-alenefar  @books-over-boys @florida-llama-46 @when-wax-wings-melt @k00laidcrush @bowlcut-boyfriends @good-old-fashioned-lover-boy7 @dexter-dizznee

On Ao3 or below the cut! Other chapters can be found here

    It’s my first day of Foxfire. I, Dexter Alvin Dizznee, am going to Foxfire. Even after all the people who said I would never get here. Because I’m a son of a Bad Match. Stupid matchmakers. I mean, seriously, who decided that it had to be mandatory?

    I understand making sure you aren’t related to the person you are going to marry, but past that it seems redundant. Whatever. 

    I walk into the elaborate glass pyramid, admiring the architecture, and wonder how on Earth I’m going to remember how to get to my classes. The place is even bigger than I recall from the opening ceremonies.

    Joining the crowd of prodigies, I notice that I’m standing near Fitz and Biana Vacker, along with a fair amount of others that are vaguely familiar. Biana is a Level One, like me, and Fitz somehow manages to make the amber brown Level Three uniform look not bad. On anyone else, the colour would look like you just took a mud bath, and the addition of the dorky elbow-length capes we all have to wear just made it a recipe for disaster.

    Stop it, Dex. Focus. This is not the time to lecture yourself. You know how that ends. Either you get interrupted or you have such a long run-on sentence you don’t remember the beginning—

    I quickly learn that focus isn’t going to be necessary right now because before I can finish lecturing myself, an intricate bell chimes, signalling the start of the school day.

    Dame Alina’s voice booms over the loudspeaker and a close-up of her face appears on the far wall. Was not expecting that. I’m not going to deny that I might have jumped high enough to dent the ceiling. 

    “Welcome new prodigies! I hope you all have an exciting first year at Foxfire! Returning prodigies, introduce yourselves and offer to help however necessary. And be sure that anyone that had anything to do with the Great Gulon Incident last year will be found and appropriately punished. Additionally, anyone who knows anything and does not inform me immediately will get to join in on their punishment.” 

   Out of the corner of my eye, I see Keefe Sencen flash his signature smirk, and the corners of Fitz’s lips twitch ever so slightly.

    I’m not entirely sure when Keefe joined the crowd.

    I heard about the Great Gulon Incident a few months ago, and it sounded legendary.   

    “And, new prodigies, do not be afraid of asking for help. The older students may seem scary, but I’m sure they will be more than welcoming.”

    She says the last bit with a warning in her voice, and it makes any hint of rebellion in the older prodigies’ eyes fade away as far as I can tell, being surrounded by a pack of Level Ones. Except for Keefe, of course. It likely increased tenfold. You can’t control that boy in any way known to any of the intelligent species. Maybe not even the humans. 

    Before I can ponder the consequences, the bells chime again, and the crowd starts shifting, trying to escape the tightly packed pyramid. 

    “Off to class, prodigies! Have a great first day of school!”

    Fitz turns and introduces himself to some nearby Level Ones and I start walking towards my first class of the day, Alchemy.

    I’m about halfway to my first class and I’m wondering why I have to take it. I’ve been helping at Slurps and Burps for as long as I can remember, so I can do most basic Alchemy with my eyes closed. 

    Pro tip: keep your eyes open if you don’t want to cause an explosion. I tried it once and let’s just say it’s not the first or last hole in the store’s ceiling.

   I see Fitz and Biana walking up on the other side of the hallway, and I hypothesise that he’s escorting Biana to her first class. It’s nice, and that’s when I decide that will be me on the triplets’ first day. Especially if they’re trying to escape the entire time. 

    Assuming I don’t get lost and never found again today.

    I’m so deep in thought by this point that I may or may not have dented the ceiling again when a crisp, accented voice says, “Hi, I’m Fitz Vacker, and I’m here if you need any help with anything.” 

    I hadn’t realised that he was walking next to me, okay? He was pretty far across the hallway the last time I checked.

    I shift my head and my eyes meet his. “Uhh... Hi? I’m Dex Dizznee and I guess...uh...I will let you know? Thanks!” 

    I feel my face heat up and realise I must be redder than my hair. I’m guessing that the tips of my ears are also tinged pink. I only know that from experience. Ugh, why do I have to be so awkward?

    You would think that multiple interactions a day at the store would have trained me how to have a normal conversation, but apparently it doesn’t work that way. Or, you know, I’m just not meant to be a people person. 

    I tear my gaze away before it can get any worse, which is harder than it should be. I don’t want to see the look of disgust on his face when he realises a Vacker talked to a son of a Bad Match. If that exchange wasn’t enough to destroy any possible chance at mild popularity, I have Lex, Bex, and Rex as my siblings, more accurately known as Crazy one, two, and three.

    Who am I kidding? I never had a chance. 

    Against my better judgement, I can’t help glancing over towards Fitz and Biana. They’re back over on the other side of the hallway. I can’t seem to bring myself to fully look away. Keefe’s shown up next to them, and he must have told them something funny. Probably a bad joke, but I couldn’t hear what it was over the conversation around me. Biana’s smile is glaringly bright and I can tell she is fighting the urge to break down into laughter. Fitz, however, has lost that battle and is laughing so hard he is slightly hunched over and his face is pink with lack of oxygen.

    If I strain my ears, I think I can hear his laugh over the loudness around me. It has a hint of his accent and I could stay here all day. I shake my head, clearing my thoughts. I probably imagined it.

    I, idiotically, look back again. I notice how his eyes twinkle faintly in the incandescent lights like seawashed glass, that makes my heart flutter for a beat. Only a second, but it’s more than enough. I close my eyes and shove all the Vacker-related thoughts away. I turn my head to study the opposite side of the hallway. 

    I see some people I know vaguely because most of them have come into Slurps and Burps occasionally. They typically don’t pay any attention to me so I’m more than happy to reciprocate the treatment.

    I’m too occupied by my own problems to even care what they think of me today. This is too big. Too foreign. It will only cause problems. 

    I gather all my feelings and imagine bottling them up in a Slurps and Burps bottle as tightly as I can. I double check the lid is as tight as possible. I bury it in the deepest, darkest corner of my being. Deep enough that I can almost convince myself it never existed in the first place. 

    That’s the day I vow to stay as far away from the Vackers as I can. I don’t need my life to get any more complicated. I don’t need any more judgement. I don’t want any more judgement.

    Eventually I convince myself that I hate him. It’s easier than the truth. 

    I like Wonderboy. 

    And there is no chance that I will ever—can ever—tell anyone. Whatever it takes. Even if everyone hates me for it.

[writingbakery]

“an andorian, a bezoid, & a tessian walk into a bar”

another one of my favorite works is here! i originally wrote this for a different fandom, & rewrote it to fit here. i’m in love with this story, it’s one of my absolute favorites; please leave me feedback about it! a second part is in the works ✨ taglist; @secondhand-trash @redbeanteax @togasknifes

[some notes: denki is an andorian, a very tall race of aliens who are very nimble, skilled silent warriors when needed. hitoshi is a bezoid, from a mining planet, broad, tough, good with any sort of weapon but mainly guns, & you are a rare species called tessian, lil shapeshifting aliens that were often sold as slaves way back in the day on illegal black markets due to their skill! ULC means universal language chip, & the fleet is my version of the interspace police! ]

[pairing; poly!shinkami x reader]

[warnings; space jokes, cussing, dangerous scenarios, extremely Buff Aliens, violence, angst, fluff]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

if you asked hitoshi shinsou what he would describe as a perfect day, he would tell you this: waking up in his quarters on the isla bella, the smooth glide of their ship through space flowing uninterrupted. there are no parts that need replacing, no angry merchants on their tail for undelivered merchandise, nothing but the clean quiet of the stars & the faint glow of space flitting through the small window by his bed, denki fast asleep against his chest. he’d card his fingers through the andorian’s glimmering gold hair, kiss along the slope of his nose & bask in his quiet beauty. that would be a perfect day for him; lounging in bed with his freakishly tall, giggly lover without a care in the world.

the last thing he’d consider to be a perfect day is running across the burning - literally in flames burning - sand of a deserted planet with two grogorians firing photon lasers at his skinny ass, skidding between the roaring flames of the ground beneath him & the sting of the lasers with denki screaming unintelligible commands & curses in his ear via comm. he’d consider that a bottom of the barrel kind of day.

you can probably guess which kind of day he’s having.

cursing under his breath as he slips between the burning flames, he does a cursory peek around the open desert, eyes searching for the opening that denki was furiously insisting “was right there, hitoshi shinsou for the love of god open those damn sultry bezoid eyes and LOOK” - he refuses to acknowledge the compliment, focused on the seven million fucking grains of sand & his boyfriends panicked voice in his ear when he finally spots it. a haze in the heavy heated air, almost like a mirage, a split in the vast landscape that led down somewhere dark, hidden. he lets out a sigh of relief loud enough for denki to hear, a sign that he’d found the entrance, before a photon blast skims just past his ear, leaving a three inch skidded burn across his cheek.

oh right. the grogorians.

stealing from the grogorians was the stupidest goddamn idea denki had ever come up with, which was saying a lot; once, he’d thought the seven suns on Naboor all rose & fell at the same time, shrieking in hitoshi’s ear about “planetary instability” & “socio-economic collapse” for a full ten minutes before he saw the suns rising & falling one after the other, in turns. that had been a field day, not one hitoshi was eager to repeat. the grogorians were fiercely territorial, completely tucked away from modern civilization & technology, & were at least seven feet tall. you could fit two shinsous in one of their chests; he wasn’t quite ready to see that up close.

ducking & weaving across the barren landscape, he slides through the slit in the ground with practiced ease; he’s run for his miserable life far too many times at this point. he can hear the grogorians shouting above the hole in the ground, too big for them to pass through, & he winces as his ULC - universal language chip, something kaminari had insisted he get implanted- deciphers the strangled words into curses he can understand. he’s really glad his parents are dead, because whatever blood curses the grogorians are spitting at his family tree sound awful.

the cavernous tunnels he’s slid down into are cool, spacious; coned lights illuminate the rocky path deeper & deeper into the planet. its all but deserted, the only inhabitants the two grogorian guards he’d narrowly escaped from. denki’s voice filters in through the comm again, calmer now that hitoshi was safely inside.

“we’ve got twenty minutes max before their distress signal goes through,” the andorian warns him, tracking the surrounding space around the planet from the isla bella. “follow the main tunnel straight through. the crown should be there. ten minutes to get there, i phase you straight out, we fucking book it into warp drive & we’ll be seven million credits richer by tomorrow morning. and you can finally treat me to dajang.”

hitoshi rolls his eyes despite the fact that denki can’t actually see him, trudging through the tunnels a little wearily. “remind me again why i always have to be the one getting shot to hell & back?” he grumbles as he walks, no real heat to his voice.

“you love my ass too much to risk it getting shot at, baby you know that,” denki laughs through the comm, ever poking fun at hitoshi’s expense & he’s sure to give the andorian a long, drawn out sigh before switching off the comm & pushing further into the darkness.

denki’s right though, hitoshi muses as he moves, his eyes glinting violet in the lamplight. the bezoid would rather die than see denki in any veritable danger, keeps him up on the ship to guide him & yank his ass out at the first inkling of a problem.

he’d been protecting the stupidly tall, wildly cheery andorian from the first day they’d met, cooped up in some stuffy bar off V-7. he’d had absolutely zero self-preservation skills even then, picking a fight with a damned Dervisian of all people, just because the man had insulted his shirt. hitoshi, not overly fond of watching handsome morons get punched in the face by meatsacks twice their size - & maybe he appreciates the long, toned legs & pretty face a little more than he lets on - steps in with ease, no matter how short he feels between the two of them. the dervisian cracks a height joke, because he’s an asshole, denki stabs him in the shoulder with a four inch dagger he pulls out of his too tight pants - & of course hitoshi spends far too long wondering just how he managed to fit it in the first place, mind all fuzzy - & they somehow manage to kick off an interspace bar fight. wonderful.

once the dust has settled & the chaos calmed, hitoshi finds himself with three new bruises, a cut cheek, & an armful of very grateful andorian.

“i hear the fleets coming. wanna get married?” denki wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, & hitoshi chokes on his own spit.

“what for? they’re keepers of the peace, not wedding officials,” he manages, glaring up at the - stupidly tall, stupidly pretty - andorian that’s managed to wrap himself into his arms.

“if you’re married they can’t deport you. i’d really like to avoid interspace jail,” denki winces, & hitoshi snorts.

“or we could run, like normal deviants of the law,” he points out, much to denki’s chagrin.

“and where is the fun in that?” the andorian pouts, & hitoshi knows he’s screwed.

four years, seven interspace incidents, four run ins with the fleet, & one rusting junktrap of nuts & bolts they called a ship later, they were inseparable. one complete idiot with a penchant for charming the pants off everyone around them & simultaneously launching them into trouble, & his over exasperated, eternally exhausted boyfriend, who was consistently saving his ass. they were an unlikely duo, but they worked like magic, & despite the fact that he had to risk his ass every damn day, hitoshi was pretty happy. him & denki made a little solar system all their own, a shining sun & its orbiting planet, & he likes that. he’s happy.

as happy as a thief for hire could be, really.

the problem with their particular profession, however, is that denki is basically one big ass radar for trouble. if something can go wrong, it will go wrong, disastrously so, & hitoshi is always caught in the middle of it, fleeing for his life with someone shooting at his ass (it’s always his ass, & he can never understand why. )

it’s for that reason, & that reason only, that hitoshi is the one creeping down the dark, deep tunnel, his nerves frayed as he keeps his eyes trained on every nook & cranny surrounding him. he can see the faint glow of an upcoming room ahead & hurries his pace, eager to grab the crown & escape, maybe finally treat denki to that dajang he’d been whining about - he’d never been fond of the strangely shimmery, horned fish, but if it made denki happy, he wasn’t going to complain.

the tunnel opens up into a small, brightly lit room, warm & pulsing with energy. the grogorians kept the crown here for good reason, the sheer amount of dead souls crafted into the metal & jewels enough to make anyone’s skin crawl. hitoshi gingerly steps closer, hands twitching at his sides as he moves into the light and - wait a minute.

wait a goddamn minute.

there’s a person on the raised pillar, small & decidedly not threatening. your little body is curled loosely around the crown, shivering gently, & hitoshi realizes several things all at once:

one, the tiny body is a tessian, and a young one at that, a couple years younger than himself.

two, the grogorians have definitely arrived earlier than scheduled. fuck. he clicks on his comm to hear denki screaming incoherently about danger, & winces heavily.

great.

third, the booming, heavy rumbles of the grogorian ship - & denki’s frantic yelling - has woken you up, the little tessian, arms still caging the crown close to your chest as though seeking out its warmth.

up close, hitoshi can see a smattering of pink freckles dusted across your honey gold cheeks, bright, messy hair falling into big, bright eyes. you yawn, then blink, eyes flashing & settling into a light, rosy pink at the same time your little fluffy ears twitch atop your head, a matching color to your eyes. your tail twitches slightly, four light gold rings wrapped around it, & it’s obvious you’re about young adult age. you yawn again, a tiny, unfiltered squeak escaping you at the sight of hitoshi in front of you.

you’re absolutely adorable. hitoshi is absolutely fucked.

dimly, he registers denki’s panicked shouts & the shaking of the tunnel walls, can feel the ground trembling beneath him, & he snaps out of his reverie to glance at the crown again. said crown is tucked up against your torn shirt, tessian hands - so delicate, so cute - keeping it close.

“hey, hey! don’t touch that! there’s like, eight thousand dead people in there,” hitoshi scolds before he can think, & you simply cock your head, confusion written all over your face.

“no, don’t squeeze it tighter - stop it! hey! are you even listening?” he seethes, reaching out a hand to snatch the crown away. you shift back quickly, frowning just as deep as hitoshi as you hug the crown even closer. it’s clear you can’t understand a word hitoshi is saying, & the grogorians have started some sort of blasting contest right outside the caverns.

great.

hitoshi swears under his breath, racking his brain for any sort of solution. “hitoshi shinsou, you are ASKING to die, they’re blowing the fucking cave open! can i phase you out yet? you too busy admiring that handsome face of yours in the stupid crown’s fucking reflection?” denki sounds hysterical, voice on the verge of near meltdown & hitoshi knows he’s out of time.

he’s got two options: stay & deal with the grogorians, or run.

he runs.

leaning forward, he tucks both hands under your armpits & yanks you forward, tosses you over his shoulder, & books it out of the tunnel.

he can barely hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears, your tessian wails, & one denki kaminari screeching like the world’s ending.

“phase me out phase me out PHASE ME OUT-“ he’s shouting above the din, phaser blasts surrounding him on all sides, & he doesn’t stop running until he feels the familiar pins & needles of the transporter, turning them into a mess of glittering gold dots that wink out just as a grogorian fires right where hitoshi’s head had been.

he slams into the floor of the isla bella with a groan, denki immediately in front of him. he sits up slow, careful not to shift too abruptly & disrupt the reanimation process, when denki snatches you right out of his arms.

“hitoshi what the fuck, you were only supposed to grab the crown, not adorable little tessians! and what were you doing down there, young alien?” denki has gone into full andorian mode, pinching your little tessian cheeks as he sits you in his lap - hitoshi’s just glad he’s got the sense not to do that to him.

you still can’t seem to understand, tilting your fluffy bright head of hair as you stare up at denki. you chirp, then hum, one hand reaching up to pet denki’s head, before smiling brightly.

denki coos. hitoshi snorts.

“i found them sleeping on the crown. they can’t understand us, they don’t have a ULC, so i just grabbed ‘em & ran,” hitoshi explains, getting up to ensure that they were in hyperspace, blasting millions of lightyears away from the grogorians. he chances another glance at the tessian sat comfortably in denki’s lap; you’re a little dirty, clearly having been stranded in the caverns a few days.

denki frowns at hitoshi’s back, brushing over the phaser burn on the ass of his pants with one hand as he speaks.

“the poor thing must be terrified, being surrounded by all that. switch your ULC to interpret mode, at least we’ll be able to understand them, & talk to them,” denki says quietly; looking down at the fluffy bundle of tessian in his arms. hitoshi can already see the gears turning in his head.

once they’ve switched settings, denki speaks.

“what’s your name, sweetheart?” he asks softly, clearly trying to make you comfortable.

the series of chirps & coos you let out shift almost in midair, turning themselves into words that hitoshi can actually understand.

“[y/n]? [y/n l/n]? oh that’s so cute! tell us, [y/n], why were you down there all by yourself?” denki prods, voice still soothing & calm. you, the tessian - [y/n], hitoshi thinks, too precious - sit up a bit, animatedly speaking now that they can understand you better. the squeaks & chirps are downright adorable, & hitoshi has to look away from flailing hands & a sunbeam smile to center himself again.

“and what were the lot of you thinking, sneaking down there? your whole little tribe, just gone, huh? i’m so sorry, sweetheart,” denki winces, & hitoshi can sympathize - tessian tribes were tight-knit little groups, & losing them meant a death sentence for whoever was left behind. they were pack creatures, always in need of others. hitoshi can see the gears turning, & he speaks before the andorian can.

“no, denki.”

“toshi! look at them, aren’t they the cutest thing you’ve ever seen! we have to keep them!” denki all but wails, pulling you so close to his chest that your cheeks squish together. you don’t seem concerned in the slightest, just giggle against denki’s face. hitoshi’s resolve weakens a little.

“we’ve got no space, denks, not to mention we’re not exactly the safest group for them to latch onto,” hitoshi protests weakly, even as the andorian pouts at him.

“we can’t just leave them alone, they’re so small, & no one will protect them!” denki is dangerously close to tears, & hitoshi never does well with a crying denki. he opens his mouth to protest again, try & make his point, but just then you yawn again, slow & long, the tiniest of squeaks escaping you & when you open your eyes again, they’re gold just like denki’s hair, your ears matching.

hitoshi’s determination evaporates.

“fine, fine, we can keep them. but if anything happens to them, it's your fault,” he grumbles, settling into the pilot's chair to monitor their progress.

denki cheers. you chirp happily.

hitoshi bangs his head on the control panel.

what have i gotten myself into this time, he thinks dully, but deep down, he knows he doesn’t mind. not too much.

───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────

after finally managing to pry the crown out of your hands & delivering it to the client - hitoshi doesn’t even wanna know what the creepy old Lavastian wanted with it, he’d had to take three showers under the hydrospray to get the itch off his skin - they’ve set a course for the driard system, to rest before their next assignment. being that their work schedule is so…flexible, it gives the trio a little time to get adjusted. and by adjusted, hitoshi means getting used to having you, a fluffy little alien, hanging off him at all hours of the day.

he’d thought that denki was clingy, the andorian typically seeking out hitoshi’s hands to hold or shoulders to rest his head. his people were affectionate that way, much different than hitoshi’s bezoid counterparts. he’d adjusted though, sacrificed personal space & eventually, had grown both used to & comfortable with having denki draped over him like a blanket at all times.

[y/n l/n] is an entirely different species - literally & figuratively.

firstly, you’re a clinger. where denki lounges, you squeeze with - surprisingly - strong arms & legs, wrapped around hitoshi’s frame like a verealis vine.

you’re so touchy you’ve got denki beat, & the pair of you seem stuck in some sort of exceedingly needy, relentless cuddle war. hitoshi’s got his money on you, even if he doesn’t admit it.

secondly, you’re scarily helpful. you seem to turn up right when hitoshi needs something adjusted deep in the ship, or when denki can’t seem to locate something correctly on their navigational screen. you’ll shapeshift into a teeny, tiny ragran rat to scurry through chambers & fix a wire, or tap on the control panel just so to show the correct star system, & its quite frankly impressive.

hitoshi’s starting to think you were made for them, just a little.

normally he leaves the sappy shit to denki, the andorian’s well flowered language easily explaining all his emotions & thoughts. but there’s something about the little tessian that shakes him up a little, changes the dynamic. denki doesn’t mind one bit.

he relishes in hitoshi’s newfound sweetness, even if it’s just a “that wasn’t completely awful, great job, babe,” or “you know, that shirt isn’t as hideous as i thought. brings out your eyes.” he knows hitoshi is simply trying his best, knows that words never got very far on his home planet.

you like that he’s quiet though, for some reason. you chirp & chatter enough for the both of you whenever you’re together, silly stories of whatever disasters you & denki had gotten into on the ship - hitoshi’s suspicious you’re both responsible for the six broken panels along the corridors, impromptu games of touch & go be damned - or telling him memories of your time on Tessero, your home planet. you’ve got an easy way of speaking, soft & languid & it calms him down like no other, settling into his bones & dimming the chaos in his mind for a little while.

your cuddliness extends even to when you’re asleep, tucked up neatly between denki & hitoshi in the big bed of their quarters. you’re a calm sleeper, curl up tight into a little ball with the pair of them draped over you, like a tiny tessian heater. it’s sweet & soft & so fucking domestic that hitoshi has a hard time believing it sometimes. he’d even started pressing kisses into the top of your head as he moved along the ship, much like the gentle ones he presses to denki’s lips. he’s not scared by it, per say, but he is a little surprised; he’d always been a little closed off, reserved. you had snuck up on him swiftly, without him even realizing. he finds he rather likes it.

the few days of travel before you reach the driard system are calm, simple evenings of dinner & talking together as you all soak up the simplicity of space. somehow, it’s comforting. you’re a twinkling, bright little star amidst their solar system, & hitoshi likes that. a shining sun, its orbiting planet, & the brightest little star.

───── ⋆✩⋆ ─────

everything goes to shit once they step foot on Ovalia 7.

the leisure planet is tucked at the edge of the star system, a quiet haven for those always on the move. it’s denki’s favorite place to go after a successful deal, & they serve the best dajang this side of the galaxy. hitoshi likes that no one ever speaks to them there, everyone wrapped up in their own little vacations.

denki books them a room at their usual spot, ignoring the innkeepers curious glance at the request - one big bed, a nice tub, window view, & hitoshi’s certain he thinks you’re all a couple. the thought doesn’t bother him, & he realizes with a jolt that they act like one, all three of them. they cuddle & hug & kiss, & hitoshi sits on that a moment before shrugging it away. if denki didn’t mind it, neither did he, & he focuses once more on relaxing.

they’ve just settled into a local restaurant, plates full of dajang & ocuro & everything else that tickle their fancy when hitoshi hears it. heavy steps, familiar ones, although he can’t quite place it in the haze of relaxation. he ignores it in favor of feeding you some of his mulrag, the spiced meat a clear favorite with your tessian palate & he can’t help his grin. he lets denki feed him a warm bite of dajang, rolling his eyes at the andorian’s little smile & affectionate pinch of hitoshi’s cheek. everything is nice, sweet & lazy in the warm air.

and then all hell breaks loose.

eight of the biggest fucking grogorians hitoshi’s ever seen in his life burst through the door, weapons armed & faces set in such hostile expressions that everyone is scattering. denki hauls you up & to his side, dragging hitoshi by the collar until you’re all crouched behind the bar, hidden from view. “i should’ve known they’d track us,” he all but whines, peeking over the wooden edge of the bar. a photon shot quickly makes him duck down again, cursing lightly. “plan?” he asks behind clenched teeth, tugging you closer.

hitoshi pauses, weighs his options.

“the two of you book it to the ship. i’m going to distract them,” he says quickly, thinking back to the conversations he’d been eavesdropping on earlier - thieves never took a real vacation, always on the lookout for something new to snatch.

two very drunk, loud Avarians had been seated just behind them, rambling on about the very expensive, very valuable statue hidden deep in the recesses of the abandoned temple just off the main road. many had tried to steal it, but had always gotten stuck deep in the underground channels trying to escape. the elders guarding it weren’t exactly friendly either.

a plan starts to form in his head, one that would both enrich them & save their asses from this absolute mess. he’s quite proud of himself, if he’s honest.

then a bottle explodes just above his head, & he jolts into action.

he fires a few warning shots at the wall behind the grogorians, turning & racing out the door in a clear attempt to lead them out. the grogorians take the bait easily, & he races down the road towards the temple as you and denki sneak out the back of the restaurant.

the temple is huge, dusty & a little worn around the edges. the priests guarding the door take one look at hitoshi shinsou, panting & shooting over his shoulder at several grogorians & lose it, screeching & running for cover just as he’d expected. he pushes through the open door with the hostile aliens right at his footsteps, racing through the dark corridors deeper & deeper into the bowels of the temple. halfway down denki clicks onto the comm, hastily spitting directions & instructions as the grogorians start shooting again. “this is all your fucking fault! i told you stealing from them was an awful idea!” hitoshi shrieks as a laser just misses his shoulder, ducking as he runs.

“oh sure, blame me for making sure we stay employed!” denki shrieks right back, your chirping frantically frantically filling the background.

hitoshi feels the heat of another photon bullet just barely graze against his ass as he books it down the narrow hallway, cursing every single god & denki kaminari for the absolute mess he’s been roped into. over the comm link he can hear the andorian yelling muted commands as he leads hitoshi through the vast hallways, the relic just within arms reach.

“i’ll phase you out once you have it!” denki starts, before hitoshi starts shouting again.

“i’m not gonna PHASE through solid rock, denki! just hold off, i’m coming!” he yells through the comm, feet skidding across the rough terrain as he snatches the little gold statue right off the podium. concerned little chirps & squeaks flood the comm, & hitoshi halts all his movements to swear loudly.

“[y/n l/n], you keep your adorable little ass on the ship, you hear me? don't even THINK about it-“ the ground shakes with another blast, the heavy yelling creeping from the farthest corridor.

hitoshi curses every single god & denki kaminari twice. and then he runs.

the maze of corridors gets more & more confusing as he bolts through them, solely relying on denki’s guidance in his ear & the gunfire right on his heels. finally, finally he can see sunlight again, pushing through the open door & stumbling into the street again - right into the waiting trap of about ten grogorian soldiers.

great.

they’d cornered him on both ends, trapping him in their space. denki’s shouting frantically, something about shield interference & blocking & hitoshi’s stomach sinks; they’ve got him.

“go to warp drive.” his voice is so sharp it shocks denki right out of his panicked rambling, the comm quiet.

then a furious “what the fuck did you just say hitoshi shinsou? we’re not leaving you-“

“take [y/n], & go to warp, denki! go, i can hold them off for a little while! the verlo sector, it’s rural enough that they can’t track you!” he bites out, eternally grateful that the grogorians don’t have ULC’s. he eyes them for a moment, takes a breath.

“i love you, denki kaminari, you crazy motherfucker. i love you. i love you too, [y/n]. take care of him for me,” he says softly, lets himself choke up a little, grants himself that one weakness. then he clicks his comm off, draws both his guns, & snarls. “let’s go, assholes! i don’t have damn day!” he shouts, keeps his voice level & confident.

and then he starts firing.

left, right, over his shoulder, he’s never shot so many times in his life, & its still not enough. there’s grogorians on every side, dodging every blast & hitoshi’s resigned himself to dying on this shithole lesiure planet, never seeing denki’s stupid bright smile again, or hearing your laugh.

and then he hears it, loud & wild & it makes both his heart soar & stomach sink.

“STOP SHOOTING MY BOYFRIEND YOU FUCKING JACKASSES!”

there stands denki kaminari in all his andorian glory, six foot six of anger & pent up chaotic energy standing just off the side of the gunfire. he gives hitoshi one big, blinding smile before he’s shooting right alongside him, the pair of them back to back as they fire.

“where’s [y/n]?” hitoshi calls over the sounds of the blasters, too emotional & charged up to address the fact that denki came to save him, denki who always, always stayed on the ship.

“i told them to monitor us from up there! once we take out these shields i can phase us up, i brought the control sleeve!” denki yells back, twisting & ducking as the grogorians rain fire on them.

the pair of them are deadly, lethal even, taking down one hostile alien after another until their guns run out. hitoshi curses at the dead weapon, tossing it to the side as he prepares to fight the remaining six grogorians hand to hand. beside him, denki gets into a similar stance, eyes narrowed sharply in defense.

“enough!” a voice bellows, harsh & loud, ringing out across the entirety of the street. hitoshi pauses, dread building up in the pit of his stomach. the grogorians part, & he hears denki gasp beside him.

the grogorian leader steps out slowly, every step sending a thundering rumble across the land. “you steal from us, fight us at every turn. your intolerance is shameful,” the alien snarls, fury written all over his face. hitoshi doesn’t point out that the grogorians stole that particular relic from the Astonians, & the fact that they’d been chased, not chasing. he has a feeling the man wouldn’t appreciate his sentiments.

“i will kill you myself ! your arrogance knows no bounds!” the alien thunders, hands reaching for the sword tucked into his belt. its easily the size of hitoshi’s entire body, & his blood runs cold.

“since we’re about to die, it’s time i fess up. i’m the one who broke your music box,” denki whispers behind him, hands clinging tight to the back of hitoshi’s shirt.

“oh for god's sake you idiot, we’re about to die & that’s what you tell me?”

“i’ve always loved your ass in these pants. skinny or not, they give you shape,” denki says tearily, & hitoshi nearly screams.

“denki shut up, for the love of space - stop fondling my ass, we’re about to die-“

a set of angry, loud chirps interrupt them all, the grogorian leader turning & snarling. hitoshi stops breathing.

there, in all your tiny tessian glory, stands you, [y/n l/n], clad in hitoshi’s favorite leather pants & denki’s too big sweater. your eyes are narrowed, an expression of pure fury on your face that hitoshi’s never seen before.

it’s a little hot. denki seems to agree, if the gasp he lets out is any indication.

the alien laughs, staring down at you almost in amusement. “come to watch them die, little one? i could probably get a hefty price for you, couldnt i? maybe pleasure slave, the markets always up for those.” you chirp angrily. hitoshi sees red.

“don’t you fucking touch them-“ he snarls, all traces of fear gone as he shoves the grogorian back, fists clenched. behind him, denki spits, eyes lit up with that special kind of rage hitoshi only sees when he's really caught up, the anger boiling in his blood. the grogorian shoves the pair of them back so hard they go sprawling in the dirt, his voice a growl as he steps towards them. “you dare touch me?” he bellows.

behind him, you let out a sound somewhere between a screech & a growl. and then you start shifting.

hitoshi knows that you can shift into any number of things, he’s not stupid. but they’d all been limited to small, cute things, adorable & easy to hold.

the form you take on is neither adorable or small.

a sixteen foot, scaly dragon stands before them, with the face & claws of a lion & the fiery rage of a bat out of hell.

hitoshi screams. denki nearly pisses himself.

the grogorians scatter, shouting & running & you pick them off easily, picking one up between your claws & tearing him clean in half. the rest die in a similar fashion, tossed against buildings & burned alive when they get too close to your flaming breath. the leader dies last, your sharp fangs tearing him limb from limb until he’s a tattered pile of mush at their feet. its singlehandedly the most horrifying, yet gratifying thing hitoshi’s seen in his life.

you shift back to your original form easily, small hands & cheeks covered in blood. there’s a bit of grogorian in your hair. you smile up at them like nothing happened, let out little chirps & squeaks & hitoshi is stunned, really.

denki pulls the bit of grogorian away from your fluffy ears, before wiping the blood off your cheeks & tugging you into a kiss. it’d be cute, if there wasn’t so much carnage around them. you smile up at hitoshi, chirps out something about love and tribe and home.

hitoshi pulls you into a hug, kisses the faintly bloody fluffy hair, & laughs.

“let’s go home,” he agrees easily, takes denki’s hand & thinks, for a moment, that he’s complete.

denki smiles so bright it puts the sun to shame, & you giggle into his chest, cheery as a star.

all the bits align just right, he thinks, & leads his little solar system home.

[dessam]

A little pre-Weapon XI AU thing centered around the retelling of how Devin died and the half-truths Max likes to spin.

Warnings for violence, blood mention, and backstabbing

Or: if two Plumbers were on a mission escaping a heliokinetic psychopath and one shot the other in the back would that be fucked up or what?

The universe always seemed to get the last laugh in, no matter what Devin was doing.

“Max, he’s getting closer!” 

Whether it was trying to make breakfast only to realize he didn’t have any eggs, or attempting to stop a galactic warlord from consuming stars on the weekend, he was always somehow the butt of a sick joke. 

This joke’s name was Ragnarok, and Devin wanted nothing more than to wash his hands of the monster. He’d also like to wash his hands of the stupid, stupid man in the co-pilot’s seat next to him.

“Ship won’t go any faster, Devin!” Max hollers back.

Rolling his eyes, Devin mutters under his breath: “Have you tried flapping your arms?”

His current partner - a certain Magister Maxwell Tennyson - seems to find the whole bit some sort of joke, and was laughing through their last narrow escape from Ragnarok. Tennyson isn’t at all perturbed by the villain rapidly gaining on them, and a little voice in the back of Devin’s mind pipes up to remind him: you can’t trust a single one of them, not even your partner.

Which, obviously, was a lesson he had known long before he became a Red Spot, but was now a mantra he spoke every single time an incident like this happened. 

Of all the bloody people to be partnered with, Maxwell Tennyson was a name at the bottom of a long, long list of Plumbers that--

“You with me?”

A voice cuts through Devin’s thoughts, and his partner is looking at him from the corner of his eye, grinning.

“What?” He says shortly, on edge.

“I said: Ragnarok really wants what we took, huh?”

Devin bites his tongue, resists the urge to snarl back that it’s his fault they’re in this bloody mess, that they had the element of stealth right until Max had to blunder their escape and alert every being with working cochlear nerves they were onboard Ragnarok’s ship. 

“We couldn’t let him slaughter six billion people just to get his hands on the Sun’s energy,” he says instead, shooting Max a mocking grin. “Not my fault he didn’t like you stealing the key that activated his energy vortex. You’re welcome, by the way, for me bailing you out of there.”

Max’s expression falls immediately, eyes snapping forward and hands tensing on the ship’s controls, all comradery gone. Devin’s partner was never very good at saying thank you.

CRACK

Lurching in his seat with a grunt, the bulkhead rattles around Devin as the nav system sputters and whines before fading, and he watches with dread as glowing instruments suddenly wink out one by one, the ship going dark. 

Next to him, frantically flicking switches and checking the backup system as it flashes a warning red, Max looks at Devin with wide eyes.

“Blast took out our engine couplings, our shields...we’re dead in space.”

Oh so slowly, a shadow overtakes them, plunging their vessel into darkness. 

Swallowing hard, Devin tests the controls, tries to think of their fastest way out of here, all while Max just stares dumbfounded up at the massive ship overtaking them. 

There’s a hissing vhmm from the rear door, and Devin glances back as the massive form of Ragnarok materializes in a blue haze onto their ship. 

Red eyes boring into his own, the warlord sneers at the two Plumbers, back straightened and fists clenched at his sides. 

“Where did you hide my key?” He speaks in a low snarl, lip curling back to reveal ugly yellowed teeth.

Devin shares a short look with Max, sees the gears turning in his partner’s brain.

Fuck this, he decides. 

Standing and drawing both of his blasters, Devin unloads shot after shot at the ship’s newest arrival, and the human next to him takes just a moment longer before standing and unloading the clip of his weapon at Ragnarok just the same. 

Ragnarok seems unperturbed, smoke clearing as the plasmabolts fizzle out, not a scratch on him. Devin growls, lunging behind cover with Max just as a vibrant yellow blast from Ragnarok takes out their ship’s main console with a resounding BOOM!

The blue halogen lights of the backup systems flicker before maintaining, secondary life support still online and running smoothly. 

It does little to calm Devin’s nerves as he presses his back to the offhand weapon’s console, and glances to Max at his side. 

His partner looks pale, staring straight ahead with his jaw clenched and right hand clutching his blaster. Devin watches him reload the clip in one movement without looking, recognizing the confirmed remaining charge of the weapon: seventy-three percent, glowing in luminous green. 

“I’m going to go for the Null Void projector,” he grips Max’s arm for a moment, forcing the human to look at him. “Cover me, understand?”

“Devin, wait--”

But he’s already up, sprinting towards the main weapon rack on the far wall, ducking under another blast from Ragnarok that singes the hair on the back of his neck. Behind him, he can hear Max swear something in terran before more plasmabolts are fired off, and Ragnarok roars in frustration. 

Devin slams his hand on the access panel, snatches the mobile Null Void projector from its rack just as another blast nearly takes him out, the explosion throwing him back against the port window and sending the Null Void projector clattering into the corner. 

“Devin!” Max hollars, lunging out from behind cover and sending another round of bolts at Ragnarok. 

The heliokinetic monster is grinning now, yellow energy glowing in his palms as he slowly stalks towards Max, and Devin has a split second to think before he focuses on an exposed electrical panel inches away.

Bingo. 

Yanking a glove off with his teeth, he grabs one of the loose wires as he stands and lets the raw energy pulse through his body, instantly feeling woozy. 

He only needs a short charge - thirty-five hundred watts should be enough - and the electricity extends from the fingertips of his left hand to the fingertips to his right hand, gathering at his wrist. Devin narrows his eyes, focuses, and fires.

A sharp blast of energy sparks off, lancing out to strike Ragnarok square in the back. 

He screams, sinks to one knee, and Devin grins in triumph, dropping the wire. 

The heavy smell of ozone hangs in the cockpit, and he tries to shake off the last jitters of electricity sparking off his hands before snatching the Null Void projector off the floor, levelling it at Ragnarok’s torso.

“Any last words?” He asks, unable to help the smug smile that crosses his face.

“You will know true suffering, Osmosian,” Ragnarok spits, pupils dots in a sea of dark red and yellow as he stares unblinking back at Devin. “This isn’t over, none of it. As long as you’re alive--”

Devin scoffs, flicks the trigger, and Ragnarok’s words turn to an enraged scream as he’s sucked backwards through the warped portal of the Null Void.

“Blah blah blah, you'll rue the day, et cetera. I’ve heard it all before.” Devin grins, sheathing the Null Void projector and inspecting the dark smear where Ragnarok once stood. 

He can hear his partner stand, and turns to double-check their nav system.

“Computers will need a reboot, but we should still be able to get a signal out for pickup. Could be worse, I suppose.” He sighs, drags a hand down his face, feels the start of a migraine coming on. “Not a bad shot, eh Max--?”

POW!

Blindingly white-hot pain overtakes him as he hears the sound of a blaster go off. Staggering, falling to one knee, hysteria instantly grips Devin’s mind. 

I’ve been shot. Max shot me.

His thoughts are confirmed as he collapses onto his side, glancing up blearily at the shape of his partner, silhouetted by the ship’s overhead lights. 

“I’m sorry, Devin, I’m so sorry. I had my orders.” Max rasps out, crouching beside him, taking one of his hands in his own.

Devin almost wants to laugh, or scream. To tell Max he’s a brainwashed idiot, that things didn’t have to be like this, that he could’ve found another way. Really, he doesn’t even know why he’s surprised at this point.

“Orders, eh?” He chokes out, tasting copper. “So Ragnarok was a distraction, to get me to slip up?”

Max shakes his head, squeezes Devin’s hand.

“No. Ragnarok was...he was supposed to finish you off back on his ship, quick and clean. But if you want something done right…Devin, I’m so, so sorry.”

“I know,” Devin gasps, agony shooting through his body with each syllable. “Max just, please, promise me one thing.”

His partner squeezes his hand a little tighter, nodding.

“Tell my wife and son I love them.”

Any compassion drains from Max’s face, taken over by horror and dawning realization. 

“Your what.”

Devin grins, finally knowing he got the last laugh in. Fuck you, universe.

[anonwriter27]

Trust in Me Ch13

Here’s the latest chapter! I hope you all have a wonderful Christmas :) 

Thor had every reason to be worried.

 He knew his brother would not die, not while his quick wit was still around. However, Thor knew what would become of Loki should he grow weak. During Loki’s interrogation on Asgard, Odin put him through countless trials, testing his strength and stealth; as Loki grew weaker, his heritage began to show. Glimmers of blue could be found in the cracks of his constructed, composed appearance.

 Thor had shared the information about Loki’s heritage with Bruce, purely for medical reasons. Tony had often queried why Loki appeared cold on Friday’s scans, but Thor always shook off the questions.

 But now, as Thor watched over his brother’s sleeping form, he could see the signature Jotun etchings making themselves visible on Loki’s skin.

 Once the team arrived back at the tower Loki was rushed straight to the medical wing. Bruce had summarised that while Loki had lost a lot of blood, it was not enough to kill a God. Loki would just be weakened for a few days, maybe a week.

 The team left Loki to rest, Natasha and Steve were suspicious of Loki’s altering appearance but the concerned look on Thor’s face kept them quiet.

 Thor was left alone to sit with his brother.

 “I’m not sure if you can hear me brother. But you’ve always said that my voice is so loud, it would disturb those resting in Valhalla.” Thor chuckled.

 Thor watched as his brother slowly turned a darker shade of azure. “I know how you get when confronted with your past. But you have made such progress brother, do not let this put you back in your shell.”

 Thor had watched his brother flourish in recent weeks. Loki had become comfortable enough to take part in group discussions. He had willingly made friends, taken part in group activities, he was even smitten with a beautiful young woman. But when confronted with the truth of his birth, Loki became scared. Like a wild animal backed into a corner, Loki felt the judgemental gaze of those around him; surrounding and suffocating him, and when backed into a corner Loki always fought his way out.

 Whether it be with knives or words dripping in venom, Loki could strike the most damning of blows. That was what Thor feared, he worried his brother would lash out at the wrong person.

 Thor held Loki’s hand, knowing the trickster would never allow him to do so when conscious, praying that the worst would not come.

     Y/N was worried sick when Nat told her what had happened. She rushed past the team, ignoring the knowing glance from some, and the confused looks of few. Before she could knock on the door, it swung open to reveal Thor.

 “I heard panicked footsteps, I assumed it was you.” Thor explained upon seeing her startled.

 Y/N reached up on the tip of her toes to try and look past Thor’s large frame, “How is he? Can I see him?” She asked.

 Thor closed the door behind him, keeping himself and Y/N in the corridor outside Loki’s room.

 Y/N looked up confused, “Thor?”

 “Would you sit with me a moment?” Thor said, gesturing to the small seating area a little way down the hall.

 Y/N nodded, growing more and more panicked by the second. Nat had told her Loki would be okay, but what if that had changed? What if there was something that Bruce had missed in his examination? Why did Thor look so worried?

 Thor took a deep breath and began, “What do you know of Loki’s heritage?”

 Y/N thought back, “Umm, I know he’s adopted… I remember the name Laufey from the reports during the incident in New York. I assume he’s a relative…?”

 Thor nodded, “Laufey is Loki’s birth-father. He was also king of the Jotunheim before Loki killed him.”

 Y/N nodded slowly, “He killed his father?” she asked quietly.

 “It’s quite complicated. You see, Loki and I had always been raised to think of the Jotuns as the enemy. We were told stories of their monstrous deeds when we were children.”

 “I see…but what does that…” Y/N began.

 “The Jotun’s have distinctive features, characteristics that Odin demonised. Loki has disguised his Jotun appearance for many years now; but when he’s hurt or weak it begins to show.” Thor explained.

 Y/N didn’t question Thor any further and decided she needed to see Loki to understand what was going on. She made her way to his room and slowly opened the door.

 What greeted Y/N was surprising but not shocking. She walked over to his bedside and took a good look at him.

 He looked beautiful. Loki was always handsome, even when he first woke up dishevelled and disorientated. But this was another type of beauty; his skin was a beautiful shade of blue, like a thin layer of ice over a clear lake. His skin was marked with intricate patterns, they seemed tribal yet elegant. It would appear that in any from Loki looked regal, a born prince.

 She reached out to hold his hand, slightly startled by how cold he was. She looked to Thor for explanation.

 “Jotun’s run much colder than we do.” He offered.

 Y/N thought back to the countless times Loki had felt cold under her touch, why had she never questioned it?

 “This form of his,” she started, “how does Loki feel about this?”

 Thor sighed, “I’m afraid Loki has never accepted his heritage. He will be embarrassed having been seen in this form. So I beg you, if you are frightened then…”

 “Frightened?” She interrupted, “Why would he frighten me?”

 The innocence of her question and the confusion in her eyes put Thor at ease. Thor could relax knowing she wouldn’t run away from his brother. Thor had wrongly judged the Tatum girl, he could see that now.

 They sat by Loki’s bedside for the rest of the night, waiting for the prince to wake up. It was only when Loki’s skin returned to its usual appearance, signalling his growing strength, that Y/N allowed herself to sleep.

     Loki woke up early the next morning, he felt groggy, but the sight of the tower’s walls relaxed him. He was certain he would never admit that out loud.

 He looked to his left and saw his brother, back against the wall, head tilted back and snoring. Loki could not help but smirk, knowing his brother would lose a fair few admirer if they saw him in this state.

 Loki then glanced to his right and smiled instantly. There sat his little companion, wrapped in her blanket, and curled up into an uncomfortable looking ball. Her book on Norse mythology lay half open on the armrest.

 As if sensing his presence, she began to stir. Upon seeing his smiling face, she leapt up from her seat and sat on the edge of his bed.

 “Thank goodness you’re awake.” She fussed over him, stroking the hair away from his eyes.

 He chuckled, “I was perfectly fine. The only thing wounded was my pride.”

 Y/N curved her brow knowingly, “And your shoulder.”

 Loki conceded, “Yes, my shoulder. But I came back.”

 She giggled softly, “Yes you did. You kept your promise.” She leant in to give him a gentle kiss on the lips.

 Loki lifted his right arm to hold her in place before she could move away. “I’m not made of glass darling, kiss me properly.”

 “Your brother is sleeping right over there.” She whispered, her attempts at wriggling away becoming futile.

 “Brother you’re awake!” Thor boomed.

 Loki rolled his eyes, “Speak of the devil.”

 The three of you sat together for some time, Thor boasting about Loki’s heroics on the battlefield. Loki never particularly enjoyed basking in the afterglow of battle quite like his brother, but the proud look in Y/N’s eyes made him feel good. Dare he say it, he felt like a hero.

 “You looked so frail brother; I feared your wounds were far worse. But like always you survived!”

 Loki chuckled along with them, though his mind chose to focus on his brother’s chosen word, frail.

 “But look at you, back to your usual mischievous self. We can add this to the list of stories we have Loki…”

 “Back?” Loki interrupted, “Back to my usual self? What does that mean?”

 Thor looked like a deer caught in headlights, “Well I just meant…”

 “What exactly was I before I returned to my usual mischievous self?” Loki demanded.

 Y/N was uncomfortable with the quick change in atmosphere, but she did not wish to lie to Loki. It’s better he knows now what they saw, rather than find out further down the line.

 “When you were sleeping, you were in your Jotun form.” Y/N admitted.

 Y/N had yet to see Loki angry. She had seen him annoyed or perturbed, but never angry. She feared that was about to change now.

 Loki’s face suddenly went blank, devoid of all emotion; Thor sighed knowing what was to come. His brother concealed his emotions when enraged; then, like the crack of a whip, the pain and aggression would come out in one fell swoop.

 “Leave Thor.” Loki spoke with little emotion.

 “Brother please…” Thor began to plead.

  “Get out!”

 Y/N flinched at Loki’s shout and looked to Thor for guidance on how to handle the situation. But Thor knew better than to question his brother in this state. Instead, Y/N watched Thor’s retreating form, leaving her with her angry God.

 After a minute, maybe two, Loki spoke. “You too.”

 She almost misheard him; he spoke so quietly. “Loki can we not discuss this?”

 “Discuss what?” Loki snapped, “Discuss my monstrous from? Discuss how disgusted you are?”

 Y/N shook her head quickly and reached for his hand, “You could never disgust me Loki. Thor explained the misconception of the Jotuns…”

 Loki rolled his eyes and chuckled darkly, “There are no misconceptions, Thor is foolishly attempting to put you at ease. We are monsters, Y/N, and you’re a fool to think otherwise.”

 His words were beginning to cut her, but she stayed strong, she wouldn’t let him think this way of himself.

 “Loki, I do not believe you’re a monster…” she began, but Loki cut her off.

 “What do you get out of this? Are you hoping to improve your own image?” He sneered, his voice rising as he spoke. “The innocent young maiden who managed to tame a beast, is that what you want them all to think!?”

 “Loki please.” She pleaded, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

 “You’re like the rest of them, craving approval from you’re betters. Get out my sight.” He demanded, ripping his hand out of her grip.

 Y/N felt heartbroken, but she would not anger him even more. She grabbed her book and blanket and quietly left the room. She stood in the hallway, for some time, not entirely sure what to do now. Despite his cruel words, she did not want to leave him. That was when Y/N spotted the chairs she and Thor had previously sat on, just a small distance from the room Loki was resting in.

 So, in a matter of minutes, Y/N grabbed a cushion and some snacks from her apartment. She pushed the two chairs together to form a make-shift bed and she printed out various articles on the Jotunheim.

     Loki had barely moved since Y/N left. Once the door closed behind her, Loki allowed the tears he had been holding back to fall. She had finally seen the monster.

 He knew she would eventually learn of his heritage, but Loki had wanted more time. A few more months, or maybe a year, where she could see him as good. Now it was too late. If his form hadn’t frightened her off, then the cruel words he spoke to her would have scared her away.

 How he regretted those words.

 Loki had spewed out some truly despicable words throughout his life, his aim was always to cut a wound too deep to heal. But he took no enjoyment in speaking to Y/N the way he did, he just felt guilt. How could she ever trust him again?

 Loki had lain in his hospital bed for four days now, ignoring the food that Bruce had brought in for him. His guilt had dulled his appetite. He looked a sorry state when Clint came to see him.

 “I uh, hope I’m not disturbing.” The archer said awkwardly, hesitantly walking into the room.

 Loki raised his brow in surprise, “You’re the last person I expected to visit.”

 Clint looked down, almost ashamedly, “I should have been the first person to visit.”

 Loki’s expression of confusion didn’t alter, “You saved my life out there.” Clint clarified.

 Loki shook his head and sat up in his bed, “I ruined your life. This was a meagre attempt to make up for it.”

 Clint was surprised by the trickster’s honesty, “You’ve been trying. I’ve noticed you helping out around the tower, making friends. I haven’t exactly made your stay here easy.”

 Clint was aware of Loki’s efforts, but his experience with the God had taught him not to give second chances. After the recent mission though, Clint reflected on the many second chances he had given. He had willingly accepted Bucky into the tower, he had all but recruited Wanda himself. Hell, his greatest friendship was born from him giving a young Russian spy a second chance.

 “Your feelings about me are justified.” Loki offered.

 Clint would not accept that, “Perhaps we should start from scratch.”

 They both nodded in acceptance, happy to continue on a clean slate.

 “So, you turn blue… is that like some Avatar shit? You haven’t got a tail, have you?” Clint asked.

 Loki’s dark mood returned, “I am unfamiliar with this ‘Avatar,’ but it is not something I wish to discuss.

 Clint nodded in understanding, “Is that why she’s sat out there?”

 Loki looked up at the archer, confused but hopeful, “She?”

 “Y/N. She’s set up camp outside the room, she’s been there for three days now” Clint clarified.

 Loki didn’t know what to say. Had she really waited for him?

 Clint sensed that Loki needed some privacy, “I’ll leave you to it. Don’t leave her out there too long, okay? She looks sadder by the day.”

 Clint left Loki to his thoughts. The God couldn’t understand why you would stay; he had been cruel and irrational, he didn’t deserve your concern.

 Curiosity got the better of Loki, he jumped out of bed and walked quietly to the door. The window in the corridor presented him with the night sky. Under the faint lights of the hallway, Loki found her. She was sleeping in a position that can’t have been comfortable, her hair was slightly dishevelled, and her blanket had the remnants of empty food wrappers. Had she not eaten properly in three days?

 On the floor next to her lay what appeared to be paperwork; Loki knelt to pick up the discarded papers. They were articles on the Jotunheim, many of them discussing ancient traditions, others analysing the anatomy and appearance.

 Loki could have cried at her concern, she truly wasn’t scared of him; in fact, she wanted to know more about him.

 Loki had been a damned fool. He rested his head on her lap and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

 With the weight of his head on her lap, Y/N stirred awake.

 “Loki! What are you doing out of bed?” She asked, combing her fingers through his hair.

 When he looked up, he saw nothing but concern in those delicate features.

 “Please forgive me. Those words… I didn’t mean them, please.” Loki rambled, choking back a sob.

 She silenced him with a gentle kiss to his forehead, “It’s okay.”

 Loki shook his head, he had received too much forgiveness in one day, he didn’t feel he deserved any of it. “It’s not okay. You cannot allow me to treat you that way.”

 Y/N moved in her seat and took hold of his hand. “I am not okay with what you said… I won’t deny it hurt. What I mean to say is, I understand where it came from.”

 He took hold of her; his arms wrapped around her tightly, as if this one precious thing in his life could disappear into a puff of smoke.

 “Let’s get you back to bed.” Y/N insisted.

 Loki moved, keeping one arm around her. “Will you stay?” He asked, his eyes looked afraid, worried she may come to her senses and reject him.

 She smiled up at him, “Always.”

 They lay in the hospital bed together. Their pasts would always come back to haunt them every now and then; but the knowledge that they had each other, made those moments more bearable.

[onthepageoftears]

Kill Your Darlings — Ch. 1 (Jaskier x Assassin!Reader) || Witcher

A/N: So this is the start to my first ever series (yeah im not nervous posting this at all). I’ll be posting one chapter each Friday! This is more of a prologue, but definitely worth the read for the background! Overall, I have to warn you, this story is a very slow burn. I haven’t finished writing it yet, but I know some ~things~ take a while to happen, so stick around!

Anyway, your comments and feedback are more than appreciated, so don’t be afraid to leave me some messages :)

Also, if you’re @ on the taglist is italicized, it means it wouldn’t let me tag you, so you might have to change your settings :)

Summary: Y/N, a skilled assassin, gets their newly assigned target.

Warnings: language, mentions of death/killing/murder, mentions of abuse and r*pe, alcohol consumption

Words: 1,996

Support me?

Please Don’t Plagiarize My Work!

Taverns were one of your least favorite places to meet. The stench of the unfortunate man’s breath wafted through the air, on top of the lingering odor of cheap alcohol. Men staggered around with their mouths wide open, yelling obscenities — women pulled down their dresses just enough to gain attention, glaring at anyone who passed. Everyone was way too loud, as if the sound of their slurred words were more valued over anyone else’s.

Your hood hung low over your head, just high enough to leave space for you to see. Your eyes immediately scanned the tavern — it was smaller than the usual ones you met at, but just as packed. The stuffiness of the room practically smacked you in the face as soon as you walked in, almost making you scrunch your nose. The smell was way worse than you remembered.

You kept your face stiff as your eyes stopped at a table near the back. Without a second thought, you made your way past the piles of people and towards the familiar head of hair you would recognize in a mass of a hundred people.

“I see you still have an impeccable taste for meeting places.” Your voice caused him to look up just as you sat across from him, removing the hood that covered most of your face.

“You know I do.” Rauf smiled proudly despite your obvious sarcasm. He gestured to the full cup of ale that was already in front of you. “A drink?”

You shook your head, “Not tonight.”

“Come on, Y/N. It’s just like old times.” Rauf was right. The length of the walls, wood of the tables, even the stench of the ale in your cup. It reminded you of the many nights you and Rauf would retreat to the taverns after training. A hard day’s work requires a hard day’s ale. It was what he said when he treated you to your first, and definitely not last, drink. You were pretty sure he just wanted an excuse to get drunk — which, you wouldn’t blame him for. Your line of work was never easy, not even for a veteran like him.

You picked up the drink with a sigh. “What’s the occasion?”

“Can’t I just want to have a drink with my favorite niece?”

“Only niece. And not by blood.” You reminded him every time, but it didn’t stop him from saying it.

Rauf was a family friend, always had been. You called him uncle, even when you were old enough to understand he had no relation to your family’s bloodline. Growing up, he was a common visitor at your parents’ home, frequently coming for a chat over some dinner. He would ruffle your hair on his way out, send you a wink every time. You always loved his visits, because it was the only time your parents stopped fighting; in those times, you felt like you had a normal, happy, family. Now, Rauf was the only one of your family that you had left.

You shook the memory from your mind and put the cup down. “You have a new target?”

Rauf was busy watching a woman drunkenly dance to the poor excuse of music, but he responded nonetheless. “When do I not?” He turned back to his own cup and chugged it down. After he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, he looked at you. “People are shitty, Y/N, always have been.”

“My point exactly.” You tapped the table beneath you, trying to keep your patience. Sometimes, it was hard for you to imagine Rauf running an assassin’s guild. He was responsible, sure, but in front of you, he acted like any other man in the tavern. In this case, that meant being almost unable to tear his eyes from beautiful women. There was always a charm about him, though, like the charisma of a well-respected bard — without the annoying craving for attention. He was messy looking, but in a good way, and his smile was infectious. At a single glance, you wouldn’t think he has killed people.

You took another sip of your ale, though it didn’t taste like much of anything.

Rauf turned his gaze back to you, a playful smile on his lips. “Maybe you should learn to dance. Perform, act. You used to always put on plays for me as a youngster.”

“I’m acting right now.” You faked a smile when he quirked his brow. “Like I don’t want to kill you.”

Rauf leaned back, his smile growing wider. “We both know you don’t kill innocent men.”

“You call yourself innocent?”

“Point taken.”  He signaled the server to bring another round, eyes almost immediately trailing back to the dancing woman.

It was your job to assassinate those deserving, but you really felt like bending the rules right now. Rauf could be distracted, but tonight he was especially so. You clenched your jaw, urging your own patience to hold out a little longer.

It was understandable why Rauf would want some time off from talking about the job. As Rauf mentioned the last time you spoke, business was, to put it lightly, booming. He had been giving out more assignments than usual — our work finally paid off, he told you. It was quite exciting, to be honest. After years of working alongside Rauf and his trusted team, you all hoped the guild would reach a wider range of people in need. 

After all, your guild was different than most; rather than be paid to kill anyone, Rauf made sure there was an unjust act committed by the targeted party. Abuse, rape, murder, any of the likes. You were vigilantes, in a way — though even the most well-known assassins of your guild wouldn’t call themselves that. You all knew you were killing — it just helped you sleep at night to know the ones who were being killed weren’t…undeserving of the death.

The rise in work was great, but also taxing on Rauf. Even just looking at him now, you could see the weight he was holding on his back. His eyes were more tired, overworked. Of course, he would never admit to it, and neither would you. Complaining leads to laziness. It was one of his many scoldings throughout your training. 

So, Rauf needing a break from his work made sense. It just made you antsy knowing there were more people out there committing heinous acts — more people you needed to terminate.

The server returned with two new cups of alcohol. As Rauf continued to watch the woman dance her troubles away, you tapped your finger on the table, shifted in your seat, fought yourself from rolling your eyes, and finally cleared your throat. You spent enough time waiting around. “Rauf.”

“Hm?” He only slightly turned to you.

You let out a frustrated sigh before answering, “The target.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Finally, his attention was brought back to the task at hand. You straightened your back, readying yourself for your next assignment.

Rauf’s eyes searched your own. Finally, he spoke.“He’s a loud mouth—“

You rolled your eyes. “My favorite.”

“I wasn’t finished.” He took a big gulp from his cup and set it back on the table. “A bard.”

“Even better.” You followed his actions and chugged the rest of your drink, putting it back without so much of a blink. “What’d he do?”

Rauf’s mouth twitched. The sarcasm was spilling from his expression before he even spoke. “You’re gonna love this.”

“I bet.” You had to hold yourself back from leaning forward in anticipation.

Rauf pursed his lips. Then, he let out a quick breath. “Raped. A bunch of women.”

You quirked a brow. “A bunch?”

“Twelve. So far.”

You shook your head. “Not ‘so far’. Just twelve. There won’t be anymore.”

“Not after you’re done with him.”

“Damn right.” You settled back in your seat, anger already filling your veins. If not for your years of training with Rauf, the anger you felt would overwhelm you, cause you to be irrational and slam your fist into whoever’s face was closest. But now, you learned to contain that anger and use it on your targets. And boy, did you use it.

A thought entered your mind, but you bit your tongue for a few seconds. As Rauf lifted his cup once more, you tried to sound casual. “Who put down the money?”

He rolled his eyes. “You know that’s anonymous.”

“Of course,” You shrugged. “But if it was one of the victims, I hope you gave them a reasonable price.”

Rauf studied you for a moment. “It wasn’t a victim. It was a… family friend of the victim.”  You narrowed your eyes at him until he groaned. “Yes, I gave them a discount.”

“Good.” You leaned back with satisfaction. Now that that was out of the way, you needed to figure out the details of the target. “This target got a name?”

Rauf tapped the edge of his cup with a finger. “Julian Alfred Pankratz. Goes by Jaskier. Not quite famous, but well-known enough.”

Your eyes glazed over with near boredom. “I haven’t heard of him.”

“You haven’t heard of anyone. Well, I suppose that’s partially my fault.”

You ignored his comment. He often tried to guilt himself for not teaching you more about things other than training, fighting, killing. No matter how many times you told him you didn’t mind, he brought it up anyway. Besides, you didn’t think you wanted to know of this bard, especially after what he’s done.

“Where is the target located?”

“He was in Oxenfurt two weeks ago, at the time of the most recent…incident. Payer said he’s now in Novigrad.”

“Not far.”

A comfortable silence fell between you two, allowing the noise of the tavern to fill in the gap. You noticed Rauf eye the same woman who had been dancing practically all night. This time, you allowed your eyes to make their way to her as well. She was so carefree, seemingly impossible to tire. There was so much life in her, but you wondered what she went home to. An empty house or a full one? An abusive husband or a loving partner? A loved child or one she wished she never had? These people, they each had their own lives that lead to either pain, anger, or devastation. Each and every person would have their own life, their own struggles, their own sins. Some of them wouldn’t even realize it, or care.

You shifted your attention back to the nearly full cup in front of you. You picked it up and swirled the liquid around before bringing it to your lips. Before every assignment, you felt the same nerves as you did now. It was a mix of eagerness and hesitation. In this case, you wanted to get the son of a bitch bard, no matter what it took. But an assassination in a city like Novigrad, for a somewhat popular bard? It would be tough, that was for sure.

Rauf must have noticed your clouded eyes, as he nodded his head towards you. “You think you can handle this?”

Despite the underlying nerves, your lips curved upward and you quirked a challenging brow towards him. Within a second Rauf nodded with a similar smile, silently understanding the uselessness of his question. Of course you could handle it. It would be tough, yeah, but the job was always tough. You were trained by the best, after all.

Rauf lifted his cup and spoke with the rim to his lips, “Meet me at the Novigrad guild when you’re done. You have the usual time to finish it.”

You took one last sip of your drink, then stood from the chair as you lifted your hood over your head, “See you soon, Uncle Rauf.”

After a single nod from him, you left the tavern and descended into the darkness, ready to eliminate your next target.

———————————————————————————————————

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[anistarrose]

Some Sunny Day Bonus Chapter 3: Seen and Unseen

AO3

Summary: A grove of birch trees on a familiar hill, an encounter in the woods that goes terribly wrong, and two memory guns.

Characters: Stan Pines, Bill Cipher, Ford Pines, Fiddleford McGucket, Blind Ivan

Been a while, huh? I was planning to celebrate the anniversary of finishing this fic with two bonus chapters just stuffed chock full of hurt/comfort, but then life happened (I got a part-time job and also mild insomnia, you know how it is) so enjoy some prequel angst instead! This one is canon to SSD and set in early 1982, shortly after the portal incident.

***

After a scare with frostbite in late February, Stan sets out at the first sign of melting snow to resume his search for the journals. A snowdrift had blocked several trails behind the house last week, but now they’re passable — so long as you don’t mind the overcast weather, and being up to your heels in mud.

Stan had enjoyed hunting for fake treasure and following Ford’s cryptic clues when they would pretend to be adventurers as kids — he’d been good at it, even. But this time, Ford has left him no hand-drawn treasure maps or whimsical riddles — only more ominous clues, like a ransacked, now empty medicine cabinet, or a ripped out journal page about being watched with X-ed out triangles drawn in all the margins. Clues that make Stan feel like throwing up, because they should mean something to him, but he just can’t bring himself to think it through and face the inevitable conclusion.

This is all my fault.

He stumbles to a halt at the foot of a hill, and realizes he’s surrounded by birch trees. He’s surrounded by eyes that never blink — or maybe, he thinks, before he can tell himself he’s going crazy, eyes that only blink when I’m blinking.

The birch trees don’t scare him the way the rest of the forest does — he’s not afraid of some creature or cryptid sneaking up on him here, where the forest is so deathly silent and he’s left all alone with himself. They don’t scare him the way the town does, either — despite everything, he feels less watched here, where there are no strangers shooting him suspicious glares or cloaked figures vanishing around corners and into the shadows.

No, the birch trees set Stan on edge because whenever he sees them — makes eye contact with them? — he knows he’s forgetting something. It’s something important, something horrible, something dangerous — like the fear of having left the stove on, except multiplied by a million. Disaster is impending, and he’s the one to blame.

This is where I belong.

He hates this place, but he’s come this far, so he can’t leave without giving the eerie birch grove a proper search. He doubts that Ford, at the height of his paranoia, would hide a journal on a hill where even the trees could watch him — but if Stan leaves now, and can’t find the journal anywhere else in the valley, he knows he’ll have to revisit this place eventually. He doesn’t ever want to revisit this unpleasant memory again, if he can avoid it.

Setting out to leave no stone unturned, he finds there are few stones on the hill to turn in the first place. There are few hiding places of any sort, nor any signs of recent digging. Stan suddenly regrets throwing out his metal detector all those years ago, and wonders if the other journals have enough brass in them to give a signal —

The hairs on the back of his neck stand up before he realizes why. He knows someone’s coming before he hears the snap of twigs or the hushed voices, the murmur of “look at the footprints, he came this way.”

They’re coming from the direction of his — Ford’s house. They must’ve followed him — or as they believed it, followed Ford out here for a reason.

“Who’s there?” Stan shouts, cringing as he hears how hoarse his voice is. His impression of Ford improves as he adds, “What brings you out here?”

“We could ask the same of you, Dr. Pines,” a deep voice booms as two figures in hooded red robes step into view, one more hesitantly than the other. They both wield identical, uncomfortably gun-shaped contraptions. “Still haven’t given up on your project, have you?”

If these cultists, or assassins, or whatever the hell they are know anything about Ford, then Stan needs to know it too. He takes a measured risk.

“I have a lot of projects. You’ll have to be more specific —”

“Ya know what we mean, Stanford.” It’s the second robed figure who speaks up, the one who’d lagged behind his deep-voiced co-conspirator, and the Southern accent throws Stan for a loop. His words suggest some kind of threat, but his gun-toting arm hangs limp at his side. “I — I didn’t want to do this, I really didn’t — but you’re becomin’ a danger, Ford, a danger to yourself and to everyone. And we — we’re here to stop you.”

“Wait!” Stan holds up his hands, dropping his Ford impression. “You’ve got this all wrong! Ford’s not dangerous, he’s in danger and I’m trying to —”

“Enough excuses!” the first figure barks, raising his gun. “IT IS UNSEEN!”

Blue light beams out of the contraption’s bulb, and Stan instinctively raises a hand to shield himself — but the light bends in midair, as if refracted by an invisible prism. It illuminates the clearing like a flash of lightning, but misses Stan by a mile.

“I told you to wait,” he whispers. He understands nothing about the bending of the light, yet somehow, could not be more certain that he alone had caused it.

“Ford?” the second figure asks, no longer sounding hesitant nor conflicted. There’s only one emotion in that voice, and it’s fear.

His companion, on the other hand, aims again without a word — and the light soars over Stan’s head as he falls to his knees, numb to the pain of the impact. Numb to everything except one thought, one single truth, easier to face than any sort of self-reflection on the power he held.

They think I’m Ford. They tried to hurt Ford. They tried to hurt Ford. They tried to —

He makes a fist with his right hand, and he sees the scene through a hundred new perspectives as sickly yellow eyes blink to life on every birch tree. He makes a fist with his left hand, and the forest comes alive.

The robed figures trip over gnarled roots, one of them even dropping his gun, but the trees continue to animate, trunks bending over and bare branches wrapping themselves around limbs. A wind whips through the grove as the cultists flail, begging as they make eye contact — not with the arboreal limbs ensnaring them, but with Stan’s body itself.

And Stan watches in both complete control, and complete disbelief of it all.

There’s a pressure against his skull, a dam about to burst after holding the flood of memories back for too long. There are leaks already, trickles of information and sparks of blue fire that chill him to his core, as images flash through his mind without coming from the birch trees, or even from his own lifetime.

Ford’s not the dangerous one. I am.

Ford’s the one who’s in danger.

Because of me.

The birches loosen their grip on the cultists, who flee the second they can shake themselves free. Stan’s left alone again, staring himself down with his hundred yellow eyes, and he can see guilt in every one of them.

He rises to a standing position, roots winding around his boots and bark creeping up his mud-soaked pants. He can’t face the world, he can’t face Ford, he can’t face himself knowing what he’s capable of, knowing that he’s the worst of all the monsters lurking in the woods —

As the trees of the grove reshape their roots and the ground shakes from the strain, the dropped gun bounces towards Stan’s feet.

It is unseen, he remembers one of the figures shouting.

He picks it up, inputs birch trees, and holds it to his head as he closes as many of his eyes as he can. Fire burns away his memories, and a deluge of ink-black water rushes in to absorb the ashes and fill their place.

***

Fiddleford McGucket runs for dear life with Ivan hot on his heels, until they reach the museum and barricade themselves inside an empty room, bracing themselves for pursuit. When it doesn’t come, Fiddleford enters a name into the memory gun, starting over several times after his trembling fingers betray him.

“Just — just another monster to erase,” Ivan stammers, “with a more human name than most.”

Fiddleford finally gets the spelling right. Two flashes of light with the input screen reading Stanford Pines, and memories of the day’s encounter — and then some — go up in flames.

It is unseen.

***

Stan is kneeling at the muddy base of an even muddier hill, surrounded by trees that look like they’re staring at him.

Or maybe, eyes that only blink when I’m — never mind. That’s ridiculous.

On the ground in front of him is a strange kind of gun, with a lightbulb in place of the barrel. He thinks he’s glimpsed some robed, vaguely cult-looking types carrying these around in town before, so after staggering to his feet, he smashes the device beneath his boot.

He has a feeling he’s forgetting something important again, but he can’t be bothered to try and remember again. He can’t bear to think about it any longer.

***

End notes:

This hill with the birch trees is the same one where Ford took a nap and first met Bill, so needless to say, Stan’s gut instinct about Ford not hiding any journals in a place like this was dead-on.

I have a lot more bonus content planned for this series, like the two-parter I alluded to in the earlier notes, but I’ve got no idea when any of that’s coming aside from a cautiously optimistic estimate of “later in 2020.” Once again, I’m so grateful for all the support you guys have given this fic from the beginning just over two years ago, to the “ending” exactly one year ago, all the way up through today :’)

[realllllfangirllllll]

Pentagon as your Classmate

PTG Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Jinho:

The shy guy who sits next to you in the front because he's too short to see the board. You say hi to him but he just timidly glances at you and smiles. A few days after sitting next to each other, you started having full conversations with him when the teacher walks out or when the class is assigned work to do. You got to know him more, and he began to naturally open up to you. Then BOOM he’s the loudest obnoxious kid ever. The two of you make fun of the teachers and play pranks on the other students and when the both of you talk, the other building can hear your high-pitched laughters.

Hui:

The guy who you sit next to because he looked smart and easy to get along with when he smiled and waved at you. You enjoyed chilling in between breaks with him but when the class has work to do, his true self awakens. He will nag at every little mistake you make on your work and is a straight perfectionist. But after he sees you struggling and groaning in frustration, he laughs a little to himself and invites you to come to his house so he can help you.

Hongseok:

The one guy who picked up your pencil on the first day of school as you dropped it on your way into class in a hurry because you were late. You couldn’t find an empty seat anywhere but then he tells his friend beside him to make space for an extra desk. He goes up to tell the teacher that you need a desk and chair so you ended up having your desk placed next to him. Throughout the year, you just found yourself naturally relying on Hongseok when you need guidance or fun. He’s either always acting like a mom to you or a ten year old child making jokes that cause you to laugh until the teacher gives both of you detention or makes you stand outside the classroom.

Edawn:

The classmate who is technically never in class. You met him by chance when you went to get lunch with Hui. He seemed really cold and distant when you first saw him, but when he introduced himself, the two of you got along so well you forgot Hui was still there. The two of you would usually go out to shop and get food. I wouldn’t say he’s a bad influence per se, but he definitely did make you ditch class a lot of times. BUT when he is in class with you, the two of you would have so much fun just chilling and messing around in the back of the class. People were jealous of the two of you tbh. Whenever you two were together, people labeled you guys as the “Power Duo.”

Shinwon:

Your most EXTRA friend ever. He just randomly came up to you and asked for a pencil... and then another... and then another. At this point, you knew he was going to keep breaking pencils so you just gave him a pen. But then he started sitting next to you and making ridiculous jokes and weird meme faces that you couldn’t help but laugh along with him. During class, the two of you would do ridiculous stuff like drawing on desks and then after school, both of you would do pointless activities like running around parking lots or pushing each other on shopping carts. The two of you also have this complicated, but super cool, handshake and the rest of the boys just leave to their classes when they see either one of you signal the start of the handshake. Other students voted both of you as the “Most Extra” for the superlative section of the yearbook.

Yeo One:

The sweetest boy ever. Some girl knocked over your supplies and he rushed over to help you. He swiftly picked up the fallen supplies and books, putting them back into your locker and introduced himself with a sweet smile. You thanked him and gradually, you found him coming to your rescue as the school year continued. When in class, he would try really hard to concentrate and you would just stare at his serious face, laughing even when the whole class was supposed to work. He would crack a few horrible dad jokes here and there and lowkey, I feel like the two of you would turn into the cutest school couple.

Yanan:

So so shy, even more so than when Jinho first met you. You only happened to talk to him by chance through a lab project. You would often make mistakes, almost pouring the wrong chemicals in the tube and he would just loudly shout at you to stop with his high-pitched voice. You got scared by his shouts and accidentally dropped the glass hurting your hands in the process. Yanan got so scared for you, he immediately pulled you close to him, checking for any major wounds. The teacher excused the two of you to the nurse but the nurse wasn’t there, so he ended up disinfecting your hand on his own. He didn’t know how to use the bandage wrap but he was so concerned for you, he just wrapped it as secure as he could. You laughed at his concerned actions and told him your hand was absolutely fine but he wouldn’t accept it. After the incident, Yanan just found himself wanting to protect you all the time but is also super clingy around you and would always ask you to keep him company because he gets bored in classes often. Many students thought you two were a couple and always have that “Awhh” reaction when either one of you does something for the other.

Yuto:

He’s the most intimidating person in your school. Nobody would talk to him or try to even introduce themselves to him. You’d hear rumors about him so you assumed he would be a rebel outcast, but when you saw him with his group of friends you thought he looked rather nice. He sat in the back of you, and you would always feel his head right behind you. You’d take out your mirror just to see him squinting his eyes to look at the board. You laughed and turned around to ask if he wanted to switch seats. He looked at you with surprise written all over his face. He thought you’d be too afraid to talk to him but here you were moving to switch seats with him. From there on, the two of you would share notes and you would always make fun of him for writing a word or two wrong because he refuses to get contacts or glasses. After school, his personality would be a total 180-degree change. When the two of you went to the library or hung out at his house, he would be so clingy and cheesy. He’d tell you how he thought other classmates being scared of him was funny and how he sometimes act intimidating for fun. The whole school would never understand why the two of you were so close, but deep down the girls were all pretty jealous you hung out with the ”mysterious bad boy.”

Kino:

Such a sweet boy. You met him the moment you stepped foot onto the campus. He saw your lost expression and he immediately came up to you and asked if you needed help. He introduced his friends to you and told you which classes to take. He lowkey told you to take the classes he had so he could spend more time with you. Overall, he’s a really nice and reliable friend but don’t get me wrong, the two of you bickered so much that the rest of the group just leaves the conversation. During lunch, you would share food with him and act so sweet together that everyone thought you two were a couple. BUT when he started talking about his tv show opinions, you went off on him. He likes all the characters you hated and he hated all the characters you liked. The two of you were a chaotic mess, but at the end of the day, you guys would walk each other home and just have fun from the simplest things.

Wooseok:

SO awkward. This boy couldn’t even look you in the eyes when his friend introduced him to you. You tried to ease the tension by asking him if he wants to go grab lunch together. He kind of replied too quickly and immediately avoided eye contact again. When the two of you picked your lunches at the cafeteria, both of you realized that your food tastes are the exact same and bonded through that. From then on, the two of you would always get lunch together and talk about pointless things. Everyday, he would quickly pack his stuff and wait for you outside your class so the two of you can head to lunch. Everyone in the school envied the relationship you two had, but you guys thought there was nothing special to be jealous about. Afterschool, Wooseok would do the same thing, waiting for you to pack up and wait by your classroom door, and then head out to go some place fun. You guys would often go to arcades, laser tag, or any other exciting activities together.

———

• I included Edawn bc it’s tentastic OK •

• Also, Hopefully a new chp of MTF will be posted tmrw •

• For the time being, pls enjoy this reaction I wrote AND VOTE/SUPPORT PTG ILY •

[angelfire115]

You swept me off my feet part 2

Charlotte woke up with the sun shining in her face and the sound of birds singing their song. As she rose from her slumber, she was slightly confused why her room looked different. It may have taken her a few seconds to remember last night. Once she did she sighed out of disapointment that, that wasn't a dream. She got out of bed, got changed into her baby blue day dress, got her hair fixed up and walked out the room.

She went downstairs to the main lobby and dining area and found Helsa, her fiancees sister, sitting on the sofa, reading a book. Charlotte: "Good morning". Helsa looked up to see Charlotte look to her with a soft smile but didn't give the same gesture back. Instead, she closed the book she was reading, got up and left the room without a word. Charlotte wondered if there was anything she did wrong but shrugged it, hoping later she could ask.

She looked around the home, she didn't notice how amazing the place looked till now. It was awfully quiet too, not that she wasn't used to it, her family are normally busy as well so she's used to the silence in her own home. Butler: "Are you enjoying your stay, madam?". Charlotte heard a voice behind her to find one of the butlers of the house. The same butler who guided her and Anna into the house. Charlotte gave the man a sweet smile. Charlotte: "I am, it is quite nice here, the house is beautiful". She looked around some more at the decorations that looked polish to perfection and more.

Butler: "Thank you madam, we at the Eldritch household, find that every inch of this establishment is perfect". Charlotte slightly giggled, that maybe overboard but it did look beautiful in the house. However she was more interested in the garden. Before she could ask, she heard footsteps coming down. She looked up to see her fiancee and future husband, Harold, walking down the stairs. Harold: "Ah, I see your awake Charlotte, I was just looking for you". As he got to the bottom of the stairs, he nodded to the Butler, dismissing him which he did.

Harold: "I wanted to tell you that I'll sadly be out busy for today but tomorrow we'll spend the day together, I'll take you anywhere, even the town, as for today, feel free to explore the mansion". Charlotte nodded to him, understanding that he was a busy man. Harold: "However, it would be wise not to go down stairs to the basement, the place is terribly dark and filled with dangerous times, wouldn't want any incident down there now do we?". Charlotte wasn't planning on going somewhere like that but she nodded anyway.

Harold: "I'll see you later tonight for dinner". With that, he left the mansion and hopped into a carriage that took him away. As a kind gesture she watched him leave and waved goodbye. When that was done, she decided to explore the outside first then explore the inside. She headed straight to the luxurious garden that lived behind the mansion. When she made to the backyard, her eyes lit up like stars. The garden was absolutely beautiful and filled with all sorts of amazing plants she'd either has seen or has never seen before.

The flowers were exceptionally beautiful and they smelled amazing. She couldn't help but skip through the garden, on the paths that led to a little spaced area with a table and chairs at the center. Her eyes were so entranced at the amazing place. She decided to slow her pace and walk solemnly throughout the rest of the gardens path. Occasionally stopping to admire a flower or plant that caught her eye. As she traversed her way on the path, she stepped on something she didn't notice till then. When she lifted her foot and looked, she saw a strange looking cane on the ground. She picked up the cane and stared at it curiously.

It was a strange looking cane, the end of it having the skull of a dear with its horns as well poking out. She wondered how anyone could hold this, much less walk with it. However, this cane belonged to someone so she brang it inside, to see who it belonged too. She asked everyone, the butler and waitresses, the cooks and cleaners but it belonged to no one and no one has seen it before. It was mysterious why anyone that wasn't from the Eldritch's house hold could lose their cane, maybe there was a past visitor that dropped it here? She asked that question too but all of the staff said that they'd seen no visitor have it before. Not even the gardener has seen it before and they just checked through the garden this morning.

In conclusion, no one, not a single person knew of the cane and it must have been lost here today. This made things a lot more confusing but Charlotte was determined to find its owner however that couldn't happen today since she had no way of going to town. So instead she placed the strange cane in her room, leaning it in the corner, hoping to find the owner the next day. After that peculiar event of her life, she went back downstairs. There she found Helsa, helping herself to some chocolate and sweets. Charlotte decided this maybe the right time to try and make freinds with her since she feels there is tension between them.

Charlotte: "Hello Lady Helsa, how have you been today?" Helsa looked back up from her eating and reading to stare rudely at the girl. She got up again, closing her book and walking away but Charlotte wouldn't let her get away so easily. Charlotte: "Wait, lady Helsa, what's wrong? Did I do something wrong?". Helsa sighed in annoyance at her and turned to glare her down. Helsa: "Yes in fact, you have done something wrong". Her tone was strong and rude, she didn't hold back her voice when she said that. Charlotte backed up in shock, what could she had done to upset her so? Charlotte: "C-could you tell me what that is?"

Helsa turned to her fully, approaching her strongly which made Charlotte stumble back. She glared her down with great fury in her eyes, it almost was like she could start a firewith the way she stared. Helsa: "What you did wrong is the fact that you're here". Mary: "Helsa!!". Before she could continue her angry rant, it was interrupted by the booming voice of her mother, Mary, which scared them both. Mary: "What do you think you're doing?!". Mary stood in an angry posture, her chest out and her arms crossed, her voice was terrifying and loud.

However Helsa didn't seem fazed but instead rolled her eyes and walked out. Mary went after her, stomping behind her. Mary: "Where do you think you're going young lady?!". Helsa was able to make it up the stares while Charlotte and Mary were at the bottom, they stared intensely at each other. Helsa had stopped at the top of the stairs as well, looking down on them both. Helsa: "Too my room and away from her". She signalled to Charlotte when she said that part which made Charlotte feel uncomfortable. After that, Helsa continued her way to her room till a door slam was heard.

Mary's angry demeanour changed back to motherly kindness once she turned to Charlotte. Mary: "I am so sorry about that dear, Helsas just a bit upset over the arranged marriage, she's incredibly protective of her brother you see". While she was talking, her and Charlotte continued their way back into the lobby. Charlotte seemed surprised over this information but understood it. She guessed she's protective of her brother and knowing it warmed her heart over the relationship they had as brother and sister.

Charlotte: "I understand, I don't blame her though". She giggled slightly at the thought of them two being cute together like siblings. She had always wished to have a sibling like an older brother or sister but she was just an only child which she was also alright with. Mary: "I know but I wish she'd wouldn't be so rude, oh and look at this". She gestured to the mess Helsa made with her eating sweets and chocolates. Mary: "*Sigh* What am I going to do with that girl?". Charlotte looked to the mess with Mary but with a snap of her fingers, 2 cleaners popped out from nowhere and cleaned the mess in seconds, leaving it spotless which made Charlotte quite impressed.

Mary: "Alright, so tell me, how was your first day here sweety?". Mary turned back to her future daughter in law, holding her hands as well. Charlotte: "Oh quite delightful actually, the staff have been incredibly nice, I was able to speak to sir Harold today as well but he was busy". Mary hummed in response and moved to the couch, gesturing Charlotte to sit with her which she did. Charlotte: "Oh, and I also went through the garden out back, its absolutely beautiful". Charlotte giggled on the thought of the flowers and plants that grew and even the bugs and butterflies that lived there.

Mary joined her giggling, they both sat chatting away like a mother and daughter would. For the rest of the time, with a few snacks as well, they spoke for hours till it was late in the evening. Arthur Von Eldritch just entered the door and gave his coat to a butler when he heard the chatter. When he went in he found the two ladies, gossiping away in their lady-land of talking. He chuckled at the sight and turned to the stairs, leaving the two in their enjoyable time. As he went up the stairs, he spotted his daughter Helsa, glaring into the room. Arthur: "Helsa? Is something wrong?" Helsa jumped at her fathers voice, she didn't realise anyone was there till then.

Arthur: "Maybe you can go and join them? I don't think they'll mind". Helsa scoffed in annoyance and turned to walk away but stopped after two steps. Helsa: "No thanks, I'd think you'd rather have her as a daughter then me". Before he could stop her, Helsa stormed to her room and slammed it. Arthur stood on the stairs, lost in thought. He felt bad and understood her concern but this was something that needed to be done, she would understand, sooner or later.

[idiosyncrasy-thoughts]

Trust - Yvette Short Story

(a continuation of Empathy)

"The largest cell in the human body is the female egg while the smallest is the male sperm. Now, I..."

I sigh boredly, my ears automatically tuning out the professor's blabbering. I have decided to return back to medical school after the whole assassin versus demon thing. It was an interesting experience to go through and a definite wake-up call for me. Seeing Wrath and her troupe protecting people from demons reminded me of the reason why I had joined medical school; which is to save lives.

Oh please MC, the last push to go back is because of Yvette's interest in biology too.

Speaking of her, it has been more than two weeks since that fight between Wrath and her happened. Things eventually go back to the way they used to be; with no more demons to chase after me, no more powerful assassins to protect my weak ass; no more chaos. I should be happy that I don't have to live in fear anymore.

But somehow, that feeling just never comes.

Instead, I'm stuck with a longingness in my chest, for a certain green-haired girl that has probably forgotten about me. Her gorgeous features ingrained in my memory, there is never a time when her face doesn't pop up in my head.

I doubt Yvette's gonna bother you anymore after getting what she wants. You can go back to your normal life now. Wrath's previous words sink in my head, and I release another breath of defeat.

"You okay?" Serena, my classmate, asks. "You've sighed like fifty times today."

I sigh again. "I'm just...tired. The class is so dry."

"I know, but what do you expect from studying in a medical school?" Serena offers an apologetic smile. "Just hang on for a few more hours."

"Ugh, I can't wait to graduate."

"Feeling's mutual."

When the bell rings to signal the end of school, I mutter a quiet 'yes' before packing my stuff into my bag. Saying a quick 'bye' to Serena, I head back to my dorm.

Being in medical school means there's a need to understand rich content from a heap of thick textbooks, so I'm required to lock myself up in my room and revise daily. Tedious, but it will be worth it in the end.

As I inch closer to my dormitory, a dark trail of green catches my attention. Out of curiosity, I follow the path.

It leads me through a narrow and dimmed alley, taking me further and further away from the sunlit pavement. I take a right turn, stopping in my tracks when I reach a dead end. The strange trail discontinues too, with no other traces in sight.

I decide to examine the green goo, racking my brain for answers as to what has caused this. A faint memory resurfaces, causing the blood in my veins to run cold.

Could it be...?

My stomach churns sickly at the first thought that comes to my mind.

Demon's blood.

"But how?" I mumble to myself, so deep in consideration that I don't realise that I'm not alone anymore.

Heavy footsteps can be heard behind me, and I turn to be met with two strangers. They block the only pathway, leaving no available space to escape.

"Uh, can I help the both of you?" I ask, apparently talking to the walls since they refuse to reply.

A smile spread across their faces; too wide for me to feel comfortable in their presence.

They start to approach me.

"Stop right there!"

They do as I say, still wearing that abnormally large smile. Their eyelids begin to stretch out, revealing huge eyeballs that threaten to pop out. Thin, green veins emerge into sight, spreading far and wide on every inch of skin. Saliva dripping down their mouths, they let out a loud, aggressive growl.

Ah shit, here we go again.

I yell for help when one of them dashes towards me, shoving me hard. Tumbling backwards, my head hits the wall.

Pain penetrates my head like a bullet; darkness engulfs my vision.

~~~

I wake up to the feeling of a soft mattress underneath me. Lifting my hand to my forehead, I feel the material of gauze bandage.

Wha-what happened? Where am I?

"I told you to bring her here, not break her fucking head!" a female voice booms, the familiarity of it igniting every muscle in me.

It's her.

My body snaps up, the quick motion causing a spike of pain to pierce through my head. I gasp, my hand instinctively flying to the back of my head.

The mattress sinks as two warm, gloved hands hold my shoulders to guide me back to the bed. "You need to rest MC."

Obliging, my head rests on the soft pillow again. The tension between my brows leaves and I slowly open my eyes. Air leaves my lungs as my vision clears.

It's none other than the girl that has been running through my mind for the past two weeks.

Yvette.

Seeing her in real life sure relieves the yearning feeling in my heart, and the pain in my head slowly dissipates. I don't hold back a wide grin.

"I...thought I'd never see you again," I speak, a little out of breath.

She smiles endearingly, shrugging. "I thought so too. But here we are."

I stay silent, taking the moment to admire the view before me. The girl's healing from her encounter with Wrath, which is a good sign. A cut on her lip and a square bandage on the right side of her head are still visible, but other than that, Yvette is beautiful as ever.

A cough breaks me out of my trance, and the green-haired girl's not looking at me anymore. A hint of pink colours her tanned cheeks.

Oh my god, she's so cute. Wait, stop it MC, you're making things awkward!

"Sorry, um, It's great that you're healing well."

"Yeah. Now it's your turn." Yvette offers a sympathetic smile. "Sorry about your head. I couldn't contact you or find you at the bike shop. So I sent them to search for you."

"Well, my phone broke after the whole incident, and I've decided to go back to medical school," I explain, sputtering the next sentence unintentionally. "I thought you wouldn't need me after you got the charm."

Yvette blinks at me. "You'd think so lowly of me?"

"No! As in...I thought you would forget about me eventually."

"I would never. Especially when you've helped me immensely."

It's my turn to blink blankly. "I didn't do much though. I was like a damsel in distress."

Yvette strokes my hair out of the way, offering a lingering look that makes my heart do somersaults. "You defended me when no one else would."

"I had to! You looked close to death when you were on the gr-"

"You helped drag the time while I was catching my breath!" the girl defends her ego, in which I roll my eyes amusedly.

"Sure Yvette, whatever you say."

She lets out a laugh, one that sounds so melodic and lovely that it makes the temperature in the room warmer. It is surely a tune that I would love to hear everyday.

"Do you want anything? Water or some snacks?"

"A glass of water sounds nice."

Yvette turns her attention to the regretful-looking demon who pushed me previously. "You heard her. Get me a glass of water. Now."

The demon straightens his posture and nods his head, quickly leaving the room.

"Do demons actually have feelings?"

"Of course. Remember? I'm a demon too," Yvette reminds, a sad smile settling on her face.

Way to go MC. You just made your crush sad.

"Right, I should just keep my mouth shut. Or you could just throw me out now."

A teasing smile returns on Yvette. "I could never get rid of a cutie like you," she teases, pinching my cheek lightly.

I fluster.

"Wa-err," the demon utters, his quiet entrance startling me.

Indifferent, Yvette takes the glass and shoos him. She then aids me in sitting up as I drink my water. The domestic gesture warms my heart.

She's not that horrible person Wrath have described to me. In fact, Yvette's caring nature reminds me of a kind doctor who takes care of her patients dutifully.

"Thanks doc," I playfully comment. "I could get used to this."

"Taking advantage are we?"

I smile innocently. "Just a little."

The woman reciprocates the smile and puts away the glass once I'm done. I shift myself so that I can lean on the bedframe, and Yvette does the same as well, our shoulders brushing against each other.

"How's school so far?"

I update Yvette on the modules I'm currently taking and the upcoming tests I have, not failing to mention that much memory power is needed to survive medical school.

"If you like, I can tutor you," the girl offers.

"Really? That'll help a lot."

I hand my new phone to Yvette for her to enter her number. This reminds me of the first time I successfully asked a girl for her number; the experience both nerve-racking and exhilarating.

We then move on to more serious topics; of the reason why she needed my charm.

"That...I can't tell you. I've agreed to keep this deal with the demons strictly confidential," Yvette explains with a frown. "But I can assure you that your charm will help me greatly."

Hopefully my charm isn't some key to demon domination, or the troupe will come for my head. But Yvette said that it will benefit her, so maybe...it will get rid of the demon essence in her?

Yvette's deepening frown brings me back to reality. Her eyes are studying me, wary of any change of emotions. "Look MC, I'd love to give you an explanation, but-"

"I understand," I cut off the girl, offering a reassuring smile and daring to hold her gloved hand. "I trust you."

Silence fills the air. The girl gazes at me, her eyes a mixture of wonder and vulnerability.

At times like these, where the girl is just silent, I wish I could know what she's thinking about. What she thinks of me. Her impression of me.

"You do?" she asks, tone full of uncertainty.

I ponder.

Do I? Yvette's an intelligent person, and I trust that everything she does, is for a logical reason.

The only concern I have is the intensity of it; of how easily I let myself to trust someone I don't know well; someone with intentions that I have no clue about. It might be to my demise, or benefit; whichever rules out the other.

Returning the gaze, I see myself in Yvette's emerald eyes. The sight of white bandage around my head reminds me that the girl has been nothing but kind to me.

...I'll take my chances.

"I do."

Yvette releases a breath, as if she has been holding it for a while. She interlocks our fingers together, sparking a connection between us. A smile tugs on her lips and her eyes are bright with gratitude and hope.

"I'll make sure that it won't die down."

We spend the rest of the day bantering happily.

[pointy-hat-witch]

Fic where kirishima is a French celebrity and bakugo is his bodyguard (lol idk if that’s weird). This is for the fic rec thingy :)

Requests are still open! 

Nothing weird about that!! Thank you so much!!

Title: Words unspokenSeries: Boku no Hero AcademiaPairing: Kirishima Eijirou/Bakugou KatsukiWordcount: 2809Summary: Bakugou was tasked to be the bodyguard of a French celebrity, he had never heard of. Well, what could go wrong if they both couldn’t understand them because of their languages?

Bakugou groaned inwardly for the sixth time in the last ten minutes or so, contemplating all of his life choices that had led him to be in this position. He was standing with the back to the wall, about a meter away from the person who crashed into his world without warning, crumbling everything he worked for so hard. And he didn’t even care. What the actual fuck.

-- 5 days earlier –

Lounging on his couch, Bakugou enjoyed one of his rare free Sundays. Usually, Bakugou had to work on weekends, especially on weekends, but now, after about eight weeks in a row, he finally had a day off and he was adamant, to not do anything. Maybe going to the gym later on, but that didn’t count as actual work or something.

Nursing a glass of orange juice in one hand and a sports magazine in the other, his phone started to ring. After the third ring, Bakugou was a patient man, thank you very much, he grabbed it after slamming down his drink and paper.

“What?!” If someone had his number, that meant they knew him well enough he wasn’t one for pleasantries and he wouldn’t start now.

“Jolly, aren’t we?” came the gruff voice of Aizawa, his agent if he could call it that. Bakugou grunted in response and fell back into his couch again. Aizawa calling meant a new job, for nothing else he would call.

“Tomorrow afternoon, 2 pm, a French celebrity is coming to Japan, rather spontaneously. They’re staying for a week or two and their parents asked for someone professional. They themselves are not pleased with it, so don’t start a fight with them.”

Bakugou listened and soaked up the information. Great, didn’t French people have the reputation to be arrogant? Not that he was one to judge. But at least, his arrogance wasn’t baseless and normally, if a celebrity claimed they didn’t need protection they’re especially in need of it.

“What’s their name?” Bakugou pulled up his laptop, his fingers already itching to make his own research.

“Kirishima Eijirou.”

“Huh? Japanese?”

“Well, their parents are but they were born and raised in France. I don’t think they speak Japanese.”

“Fantastic.” Sarcasm oozed from him. There was hope they wouldn’t have too much of an accent. “Send me an email with the rest.” With another grunt, Bakugou disconnected to start his research.

Kirishima Eijirou, 26, actor and model and a hotshot in Europe. With only 8 years of age they had their first supportive role in a fantasy drama, with 10 they were the leading role. 7 years later, a model company got him under contract and ever since the star was rising. There was a small article about their trip to Japan, in which they stated, they wanted to finally see the homeland of their parents.

Great, if they want a fucking tour guide, they could go fuck themselves. Bakugou’s mood soured by the minute, already dreading the next two weeks. Hopefully, they would find Japan not nearly as interesting as they hoped and fly back to their lovely European country.

A pop-up window signaled an incoming mail, which Bakugou opened immediately. He scanned the usual information about the client, nothing he didn’t find out himself earlier. They should drop off at Narita Airport at 1:58 pm and then there was the address of their hotel they would be staying. Bakugou scrolled down, not interested in all the small details, he was just there to keep them safe after all, until he reached the payment section. He had to make a double-take, staring at the quite hefty sum. Are all European celebrities loaded? This was as much as he got for the past six months, holy fuck. For that, he could put up with this Kirishima.

Attached was a photo of them, and Bakugou realized he didn’t look up this fine detail. He opened the file, breath hitching in his throat. Hotshot became a whole new meaning. Bakugou didn’t question their model career, at least not anymore. Kirishima’s red eyes were wide open, crinkling at the corners by the big smile and Bakugou felt as if they looked right into his soul. The red hair was bright like a halo around their head, sharp teeth giving their innocent-looking smile a dangerous note.

It was only a headshot but judging by their neck and shoulders, Bakugou didn’t think they needed protection at all. If these muscles weren’t all for show, at least. But something about how Kirishima carried themselves told him; they weren’t.

The next day went around too fast. After his initial shock, Bakugou pushed down all his surprise and fascination, it was just a job like every other. Waiting at the airport in his crisp black suit, well fitted, accompanied with a pair of dark sunglasses and a stun gun in his holster, Bakugou held up a small sign with Kirishima’s name on it. It didn’t take long until Kirishima arrived, a big group of people in their tow.

They smiled at everyone they locked eyes with, waving and scribbling on photographs, magazines and whatever else was pushed into their face. Just watching this, Bakugou’s eyes twitched. Kirishima looked around and, finally, their eyes landed on Bakugou. Their smile grew a little more, and after waving one last time at their fans, they jogged over.

Despite being a model and being able to pull off a lot of different looks, Bakugou did some more research, sue him, Kirishima looked like a fashion disaster. Did they think they were in Hawaii? A big, colored Hawaiian shirt over a black muscle shirt and deep green Bermuda shorts decorated their body, completed by a pair of red crocs. Holy fucking hell.

Bakugou steeled his nerves when Kirishima walked up to them.

“Bonjour!” The lips split into another grin. “Bakugou Katsuki?”

Bakugou nodded curtly, turning around without another word.

“Attendez!” Kirishima yelped but caught up to him in no time. Ignoring the inquisitive eyes on him, Bakugou led them outside to their car. He didn’t make any move to help Kirishima with their bags or, god beware, holding their door open and just sat down on the driver’s seat. After a few seconds, the trunk was opened and closed, Kirishima sat down next to him.

“Fait, merci. Savez-vous où aller?” They kneaded their fingers in their lap slightly, but Bakugou just put down his glasses and maneuvered their car out of the parking lot. Kirishima hummed next to him but didn’t ask any more questions, thank god.

The drive was short and silent. Bakugou parked right in front of the hotel, a staff member came up to park the car in their underground garage. Ignoring Kirishima’s luggage again, Bakugou just waited for Kirishima to walk up. Bakugou wasn’t here to babysit and do things for him, he just needed to put his life on the line when the situation arose. Kirishima shot him a grin and walked up to the reception, waving dismissively at the page who was grabbing for their luggage.

“Bonjour, mademoiselle. Une réservation sur le nom Kirishima Eijirou.“

„Bien sûr, un moment, s’il vous plaît.“ Came the immediate answer from the receptionist. Huh, did they had to speak French in hotels nowadays? Bakugou pushed down his curiosity and finally did his job, he was paid for it after all. Ignoring any further chit chat between them, Bakugou was on the lookout for any abnormalities. Even if this trip was spontaneous, one or two days was enough for some people to come up with the craziest ideas.

Without incident, however, they got up to Kirishima’s room. They fell down on the bed with an exclamation, laying on it like a starfish. Bakugou used this time to walk through all the rooms, inspecting if there would be any other people with them, for whatever reason. It took him about ten minutes since there were three bedrooms (they were alone, why did they need so many bedrooms?), two bathrooms, two spacious living rooms, and even a kitchen.

After his inspection, Bakugou walked up to Kirishima again who now sat on the couch in one of the living rooms, switching through the TV channels.

“Listen up”, Bakugou crossed his arms, speaking English a little slower than usual, “I don’t know how you do this stuff usually, but I have some rules your better follow if you…” Bakugou petered out as he saw Kirishima’s wide eyes on him, their eyebrows slowly knitting in confusion as he spoke on.

“Do you… even understand me?” Bakugou huffed incredulously. This must be a fucking joke.

“Uhm”, Kirishima scratched their nose, “Vous ne parlez pas français?”

Bakugou furrowed his eyebrows, a growl formed in the back of his throat. “Godfuckingdamnit.”

Laughter boomed out of Kirishima. Curses seemed to be universal at least, though, Bakugou wasn’t in the mood to laugh. How should he work with someone with whom he couldn’t communicate?

The rest of the day and the day after, Bakugou felt like all of Japan got a memo he didn’t receive. Was French suddenly the second language for everyone or why was every Tom, Dick, and Harry able to speak French fluently? Wherever they went, museums, parks, restaurants, shops, everyone didn’t hesitate to answer Kirishima in their native language and it drove Bakugou mad. He was the one who was the most prepared of them all, always. But even he couldn’t learn a language in one or two days so how come that everyone suddenly could?!

Bakugou was fuming. It took all of his professionalism to stay focused and do his job properly. At least, Kirishima didn’t try too often to strike up a conversation but they warmed up to him which Bakugou didn’t appreciate. They tried to coax him to watch TV with them or offered them a seat at the restaurants they went, but Bakugou either glared at them until they relented or plain up ignored them.

Maybe because they couldn’t communicate, Bakugou was concentrating more on Kirishima’s action, their gestures, and mimics, to assess the situation and to intervene if necessary. On the third day, Bakugou begrudgingly had to admit, he could easily tell when Kirishima was genuinely smiling at someone or was faking it and was polite; he could estimate when Kirishima was done somewhere when their interest dropped and for whatever reason, Bakugou then subtly steered them somewhere else.

On the fourth day, Bakugou realized, Kirishima did something similar. Whenever they were in open spaces or too crowded spaces, Bakugou got fidgety after a certain amount of time. Especially in these places something could happen because there were so many potential culprits and too many directions someone could come from and it took a toll on Bakugou’s concentration. So, whenever he was almost at his limit, Kirishima decided to take a break and go somewhere quiet.

This is how he found himself in a backroom of a fancy restaurant, Kirishima meeting with some famous family for dinner because their children were big fans of them, taking deep, deliberated breaths to calm himself down. Even as he noticed Kirishima’s care? Indulgence? Bakugou didn’t mind. Somehow, he enjoyed their non-verbal communication.

A little absent-minded, Bakugou stared at the twins in front of Kirishima who stared at them as if they were a deity coming down to earth specifically just for them and Bakugou had to suppress a snort. Teenage fans were hilarious. If they knew, Kirishima snored horribly or that they couldn’t cook for shit or they nibbled on all their pens and pencils in concentration, they sure wouldn’t be so hung up on them.

It was only a split second, but Bakugou was nothing if not the best at what he did, so everything happened so fast and in slow-motion at the same time. His eyes saw the glint of the knife in one of the twin sisters hand, his body already tensing up, so when she suddenly shot up on her chair, he had his hand already at Kirishima’s collar to pull them back, pushing them behind him and grabbing the wrist of the girl with his other hand. In one swift movement, he pushed her down on the table, twisting her arm on her back and making her drop the knife.

“What in the ever-loving fuck was that?” Bakugou growled at her. Everyone was silent for a few seconds until the girl started crying. Her parents grabbed at Bakugou, screaming to release her.

“What in the world are you doing to my daughter?! Get your filthy hands off of her!” The mother almost screeched in his ears.

“Are you fucking blind?!” Bakugou snapped back. “Didn’t you see how she attacked them?!”

“She didn’t do anything! You suddenly attacked her!” The father screamed at him, pulling back a fist to throw at Bakugou. Before it could even get near him, Kirishima pulled the man back with a dangerous smile.

“I’m sorry, I must ask of you to not assault my bodyguard when he is just doing his job.”

Bakugou just barely registered that he understood Kirishima as he spoke perfect Japanese when the man jerked his arm free, obviously, Kirishima let him, and grabbed his daughter from off the table and pushed his family out of the room without any further comment.

There was a beat of silence as the door fell shut behind them, leaving Kirishima and Bakugou staring at it as if this couldn’t just have happened.

“What the actual fuck?”

“You tell me.”

Bakugou twirled around. “You!”

“I?” Kirishima blinked. “Oh yeah, you do speak Japanese!” Apparently it was hilarious enough, to laugh.

“You fucker! You hair-for-brains fucking stupid shit speak Japanese and didn’t tell me?!”

Kirishima wiped away a tear from their eye as they caught their breath. “I- I-“, they huffed. “I thought you could only speak English! You just started with that and I thought, you know”, they shrugged helplessly, still giggling.

“Don’t you … fuck … stop laughing! You almost got killed! There is nothing funny about this situation!” Bakugou fisted his hands, gritting his teeth.

“Oh? Did I? I thought you had the situation pretty much under control.” Kirishima finally huffed out the rest of his laughter, lazily resting their hands on their hips. Their eyes laid on Bakugou with utmost confidence that their life was in good hands. Bakugou felt his face heat up and coughed.

“Of fucking course, I did!” The grunted, pushing the chairs back at the table just so his hands had something to do.

“Well, so, there was nothing to worry about.” Kirishima shrugged. “It’s a shame for the food, though.” The pushed the plates further onto the table, so they didn’t tip over, but most of the food was already spilled on the tablecloth.

“That isn’t …” Bakugou snapped his mouth shut in frustration. How could Kirishima be so calm? “Just … let’s get you back to the hotel.”

“You got it!”

How didn’t he realize that Kirishima did, in fact, speak Japanese? That was ridiculous. So many stupid situations could have been avoided. Angry at himself and Kirishima, Bakugou sat down in the car and closed the door with too much force.

“Hey, Bakugou?”

“What, shitty hair?” Bakugou growled, earning a low snicker.

“Thanks for saving my life.”

Bakugou’s head whirled around to Kirishima who looked at him warmly, a small smile that illuminated the small compartment of the car like the sun, nevertheless.

“You’re … fuck.” Bakugou started the car, fixing his eyes on the road so he wouldn’t stare at Kirishima again, causing an accident, worst-case scenario. Their drive was short and silent, but not uncomfortable. They walked up to Kirishima’s room, Bakugou had taken the liberty to live in one of the other bedrooms since they wouldn’t be used otherwise, so he could stay near his client at any given time.

After changing into something more comfortable, Bakugou stood in the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards and the fridge.

“What are you doing?” Kirishima sat down on one of the stools, leaning over the kitchen island with one hand at their chin.

“Dinner.” Bakugou grunted. Kirishima’s mouth formed a soundless ‘o’ and then split into another grin.

“Sure thing. You need any help?”

“Not from you, fuckmunch. You’ll just set the kitchen on fire.”

“It was just one and just a little bit of plastic!” Kirishima cried out, throwing their arms up.

“You were making a bowl of cereal!”

“Well, yeah?!”

They stared at each other until they both snorted. Bakugou turned back around to the stove, pouring oil into it and getting the steak ready. Kirishima didn’t stop smiling as they watched Bakugou cooking in comfortable silence.

And when Kirishima stayed a few weeks longer in Japan and Bakugou came with him to France afterward, well, it wasn’t anybody’s fucking business, was it?

[saccharii]

How to Win Back Your (Villain) Ex Boyfriend

A guide by Hawks

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Summary:  Arresting Dabi and putting him in prison has put quite a big of strain on his and Hawks’ relationship, but Hawks is determined to work through it.

AO3 Link

If you liked this fic, please consider buying me a coffee.

“Hey,” Hawks says and sits down at the table that Dabi — no, not Dabi; his real name is Touya, Todoroki Touya, and hadn’t that been a ride? — is handcuffed to. “It’s been a long time, huh?”

Dabi (Touya?) glares at him flatly, his head propped up on his hand. His orange prison jumpsuit clashes with his purple scars and now red hair. His hollow cheeks and pale skin serve to make him look more sickly than usual.

That’s fair. Hawks probably wouldn’t be very friendly towards the guy that arrested him either.

“So... what have you been up to?”

Dabi’s expression doesn’t change. Hawks winces. God, why is he so awkward? What has he been up to? Prison. Prison is what he’s been up to.

In front of a camera Hawks is as smooth as silk, but sit him down across from his (ex?) boyfriend that he’d arrested and all of a sudden everything that comes out of his mouth is pure idiocy.

“I���ve been good. Doing hero stuff,” he forges on, bravely or stupidly, he doesn’t know. “Arresting bad guys, posing for pictures, the usual.”

Dabi’s glare sharpens.

“I’ll cut to the chase. Are we still dating?”

“No.”

“Cool, cool. Totally understandable. Do you want to get back together?”

“No.”

Hawks clasps his hands in front of his face and braces his elbows on the table, giving his best puppy dog eyes.

“C’mon, please?”

“No.”

“How about friends with benefits? They have conjugal visits at this prison. I checked.”

He wants more than friends with benefits, but it’s a start. He can work from there. That’s how it happened the first time, after all.

Ex boyfriends to friends with benefits, back to boyfriends, then in a few years when Dabi’s out on parole: Boom. Marriage. Maybe they can buy a house with an actual, walled off yard. It’ll be expensive as hell in this area, but between Hawks’ salary and Dabi’s trust fund they can pull it off. Married with a dog, not a cat. Cats always try to attack Hawks’ wings.

His plan is foolproof. This sort of thing happens all the time; he’s seen it on those rom-coms that Rumi hates but agrees to watch with him anyway because he’s her only friend.

Dabi’s mouth drops open slightly, and he furrows his eyebrows. “Hawks, what the fuck.”

“That’s the idea. Us the fuck.”

Haha. Why did he say that? ‘Us the fuck’? That doesn’t even make sense.

“Do you proposition every villain you arrest?”

“Only the hot ones — both literally and figuratively.” Hawks winks and shoots finger guns.

Finger guns. Why. Why did he do that? Holy fuck, he has to get out of here before he humiliates himself further. Lesson learned. Next time he’ll practice what he’s going to say in front of the mirror.

Dabi says nothing, presumably stunned into silence by Hawks’ finger guns. (Why finger guns? Why is he like this?)

“Anyway,” Hawks says quickly. “I gotta get going. Want me to bring some of that strawberry shortcake you like so much next time?”

Dabi mouths the words ‘next time’ with an incredulous look on his face.

“What the fuck, Hawks? You fucking tricked me and arrested me. Now you’re here asking me out and offering me cake? Why do you think I even want you here?”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Hawks raps his knuckles on the table and stands up. “I’ll bring some cards next time, too.”

He signals the guard who escorts him stiffly from the room. As they pass through the heavily armored door he gives Hawks some serious side-eye before he realizes Hawks saw him and looks away.

Oh yeah. He just witnessed the whole ‘begging his felon ex boyfriend to take him back’ debacle. Complete with finger guns. (That’s something that’s going to haunt him for the rest of his life, isn’t it? He’ll be eighty and lying in bed and it’ll pop into his head. He won’t be able to remember what day it is but he’ll remember the goddamn finger gun incident from when he was twenty three.)

“So, uh, I don’t suppose I could pay you not to ever tell anyone about that?”

“We are bound with a strict confidentiality clause,” the guard says, staring straight ahead, determinedly looking anywhere but at Hawks. “Nothing you do or say here will be released to the public.”

Hawks nods. “Gotcha.”

Confidentiality clauses don’t do much from Hawks’ experience. Sure, the guard won’t run to the presses or blab on his blog, but once he gets home there is no doubt that he’ll immediately tell his spouse or call up his best friend or someone, and who knows who’ll find out after that. Before you know it one of Hawks’ sidekicks will pull him aside and ask him if it’s true that he shot finger guns.

Hawks claps his hand on the guard’s shoulder. “Good to know.” He looks at the guard’s name tag. “Officer Naya. I’m trusting you.”

Lay the guilt on thick enough and maybe he won’t tell anyone.

“Right, right,” Hawks mutters. He grips the edge of the sink until his knuckles turn white. “I can do this.”

Dried toothpaste flakes under his hands. The sink hasn’t been cleaned since Dabi last scrubbed it months ago, before Hawks arrested him. Hawks’ lackadaisical attitude towards wiping down counters drove Dabi nuts. Who knew someone who looks so much like an unwashed hobo would be such a clean freak?

Yet every night Dabi would put on thick rubber gloves, wipe down the bathroom, wash the dishes, clean the kitchen, pick up the living room and bedroom, and vacuum the carpets, complaining the whole time.

Hawks was shocked by how domestic Dabi is, nothing like the twenty something disaster he expected him to be. (Well, he was a twenty something human disaster, just not when it came to chores.) Hell, Dabi had even packed Hawks’ (very delicious) lunch everyday. Damn, he misses that. KFC has nothing on Dabi’s homemade chicken karaage.

It probably has something to do with his scars. Dirty sheets and open wounds do not go well together. Every day Dabi disinfected the entire apartment, and every night he doused himself with antiseptic and bandaged along his seams with sterile gauze. Hawks hopes they’re taking good care of his scars in prison.

He takes a deep breath, holds it for four seconds, then breathes out to quell the anxiety twisting in his gut. It doesn’t work. He’s such a disaster without Dabi here. He was a disaster with Dabi here too, but he was a disaster with a clean apartment and home cooked food.

He slicks his hair back with water. He can do this. Hero monthly voted him the hottest single hero in the country; he can seduce his ex boyfriend back.

(Dabi had grinned and waved the magazine in his face, then proceeded to prove just how single Hawks wasn’t.)

He can do this. He runs his fingers through his hair one more time. “Hey,” he says to the mirror in his most seductive voice.

He can’t do this.

“Goddamnit, why am I so bad at this?”

He slaps his cheeks and stares at himself in the mirror.

“Let’s try this again.” He smiles his best TV smile. “Hey Dabi,” he says. “I just want to talk more about what we discussed last week. You know, things didn’t end well between us. Honestly they ended terribly, so, uh, I want to fix that. I think we had something good going on, before I arrested you and you set yourself on fire trying to get away.”

Shit. This isn’t Hawks. He isn’t the planning type. He’s more of the ‘winging it’ type. (Heh. Winging it. That’s a good one.) Alright. One more time.

“Hey! I’m back. I, um, brought you flowers.” Hawks grabs a toothbrush from the holder and mimes giving it to the mirror. “I don’t know if you like flowers, since I’ve never given you flowers. I’ve never given anyone flowers.

“I know that things ended badly between us, but I’ve never felt this way about anyone else before. So I was thinking, maybe, we could try again? God this is so stupid it’s never going to work.”

Hawks rubs his face, almost accidentally stabbing himself in the eye with the toothbrush. Okay, maybe he should start small. He said he was going to bring cake next time, so he’ll start with that.

“I brought that cake you like so much, just like I promised.”

Hawks groans. He has no idea what to say. Looks like he’ll be an awkward mess, but  he’ll be an awkward mess with flowers and cake.

At least his makeup is on point. You can’t even tell he has bags under his eyes and a stress pimple coming in. His eyeliner is amazing. Wings sharp enough to kill a man. He looks good.

He checks his phone. He’s got an hour until he needs to be at the prison. That’s just enough time to run to the bakery and the florist. He takes a deep, fortifying breath.

He can do this.

He lied. He can’t do this

The flower shop is so small that every time Hawks turns around he nearly knocks everything off the shelf, and that’s with his wings tucked close. The overwhelming fragrance makes his head spin.

He doesn’t know anything about flowers. Apparently some have certain meanings and others have different meanings and if you choose the wrong ones you accidentally end up saying ‘I wish you were dead’ instead of ‘I like you.’

“Can I help you, sir?”

Hawks starts and spins, knocking vases off the shelves. Only two feathers and quick reflexes prevent disaster. How did some florist sneak up on him? He’s the number two hero, for god’s sake.

“Yes, thank you,” he says with practiced, disarming charm. “I don’t know anything about flowers. Maybe you could recommend something?”

“Of course.” The florist’s voice wobbles. Ah, she recognizes him. “What do you need them for?”

He scratches his chin.

“Hypothetically, if you were a spy,” he says slowly, “and you fell in love with your mark, then arrested him, what kind of flowers would you give him to apologize and ask him back out?”

“Oh,” the girl says, her eyes wide and her mouth open in a perfect ‘o’. “Um. I... I’ve never encountered that, uh, exact situation before. Maybe some sort of apology bouquet? Or something to indicate, that, uh, you’ll wait for him? To get out of jail?”

“I like that second one. I kinda had to arrest him, and I’m sorry, but not really sorry, You know?”

She nods, her eyes wide and glazed. “I understand completely.”

What a trooper. Hawks is pretty sure she doesn’t understand, but he appreciates her putting up with him anyway. It’s not everyday the number two strolls into your shop and makes such a bizarre request.

This is going to be all over the tabloids tomorrow, if not tonight, isn’t it? His PR team is going to kill him. Oh well, it’s bound to get out eventually. No way is he going to be able to marry a convicted felon without someone cottoning on.

After a half hour of back and forth over the pros and cons of what various flowers mean and how they would look together in a bouquet, they finally decide on a bouquet of forget-me-not (for true love), white anemones (for sincerity), and camellias (for waiting) tied together with a blue ribbon the color of Dabi’s eyes. It looks kinda like a bridal bouquet. Hopefully it isn’t coming on too strong. He doesn’t want to seem as desperate as he actually is.

“These flowers look nice,” Hawks says idly as the florist lady (Okumura, he found out. Her quirk is making no noise when she moves which is how she snuck up on him. Thank god he isn’t losing his edge.) rings him up. “Maybe I’ll get some of them next time.”

Okumura glances at the flowers in the vase next to the register. “Those are yellow tulips. They mean ‘unrequited love’ in hanakotoba.”

“Ah, I don’t want those flowers.”

“No, probably not.” She hands him the bouquet. “Three thousand yen, please.”

Hawks pays and bids Okumura goodbye. What a nice lady. She did a great job taking his ridiculous request seriously. If it was him, he would have laughed in his face.

He checks his phone and grimaces. He has less than thirty minutes to drop by the bakery and get to the prison in time for visitation. Hopefully there won’t be a line.

Shit, shit, shit. He’s late. How did this happen? He’s supposed to be the hero that moves too fast.

Hawks hops from foot to foot as the guard, a small woman with a spider web of glowing blue lines around the corner of her eyes, undoes the complicated locks on the heavy, metal prison door. He hates being late. It makes his skin itch.

He fidgets, trying not to drop the pastry box in one hand or the somewhat squashed bouquet in the other. He’s on friendly terms with the baker from his favorite bakery, and the man keeps special reinforced boxes made to withstand flight on hand, but Hawks hadn’t thought of how he would carry the flowers, so he had to stuff them down his jacket.

The prison guard yanks the thick door open with ease, and Hawks nods at her in thanks and enters. (How did she manage that? She’s so petite.)

Dabi is once more handcuffed to the table, reclining in his chair, head back and eyes closed.

“So,” he says, and opens his eyes, piercing Hawks with an intense stare. “You came back.”

Hawks shivers. That look never fails to get him. “I said I would, didn’t I?”

“Did you shave? You look like a twelve year old.”

Good to see that prison didn’t break Dabi’s lovely personality.

“I think it looks nice,” Hawks mumbles. “I brought you something.”

Hawks holds the flowers out to Dabi. He looks at them dispassionately and makes no move to take them. Hawks places the slightly squashed bouquet down carefully in front of him. Dabi looks him straight in the eyes and pushes them off the table with the back of his hand.

Yep. Same old Dabi.

“I have allergies,” he says.

“Noted. Good thing I have backup.” He puts the pastry box on the table in between them with a flourish. He picks at the thick tape, cursing. Goddamnit, why do these things have to be so difficult to open? There’s cake inside, not government secrets. Hawks sharpens one of his feathers and slices through the tape. Dabi huffs out a quiet, amused breath, and Hawks’ cheeks pinken.

He gingerly lifts the slice of cake out of the box. “Tada! I got strawberry shortcake for you and chocolate cannolis for me. And-” He pulls a thermos out of his coat. “-I remember how you feel about cake without milk.”

Dabi resists for all of two seconds before he takes the cake. Hawks tosses him a plastic fork before he can start shoveling it in his mouth with his hands like the heathen he is. Dabi doesn’t thank him, but he’s never thanked anyone for anything before, as far as Hawks is aware, so it’s not like he was expecting it.

“Here. Check this out.” Hawks unscrews the thermos and places the lid on the table. “The top doubles as a cup. Neat, huh?”

Dabi takes the thermos and drinks directly out of the container. Alongside the whole Dabi-is-a-Todoroki-holy-shit revelation was the realization that Dabi came from money and probably had a rich kid’s upbringing. Which means that Dabi knows how to use his manners, he just chooses not to. It’s such a Dabi thing that it makes Hawks smile.

Hawks snags one of the chocolate cannolis. He got two because he knows Dabi will steal one. He takes a bite and sighs with pleasure, his eyes fluttering closed. The crisp shell contrasts perfectly with the creamy filling. Watanuki’s pastries really are the best. (And the most expensive.)

He misses this. He misses eating in silence across from Dabi. He misses the comfortable stillness that comes with familiarity. He misses Dabi.

He slowly opens his eyes and his gaze meets Dabi’s. For a moment he sees his own emotions reflected in those eyes before the walls slam down again.

Dabi snorts and wipes his hands on his prison jumpsuit. “Nice try, birdy, but it’s not gonna work.”

“I brought cards, too.” Hawks slips the deck out of his pocket and takes the cards out of the box. “I thought you could use some entertainment.”

“The cake was a better bribe.”

Hawks shuffles the cards with a perfect riffle and bridge. Dabi can’t do it. Every time he tries he sends the cards flying. It drives him crazy. He pretends it doesn’t bother him, but Hawks knows.

“Do you know how to play bullshit?”

“No.”

“Damn. Neither do I. I saw some people on TV playing it and it looked fun. How about egyptian rat screw?”

“That’s a three player game.”

“Is it? Maybe guard lady can join us.” Hawks turns in his seat to face the guard. Huh. The glowing spiderwebs around her eyes are gone. “Hey guard lady, you wanna play egyptian rat screw?”

Guard lady regards him solemnly then shakes her head.

Dabi snorts. “You’re not going to get anything out of her. She’s got a giant stick up her ass. All about ‘professionalism’ and ‘protocol.’ At least the other guards will talk to you or crack a joke.”

“Fine, fine. Poker, then?”

They play the world’s most boring game of poker. With only two people and no stakes, there’s no risk or room for scheming. When Hawks suggests strip poker, guard lady finally says something for the first time — a sharp ‘no’.

The hour passes too quickly. Dabi’s parting “Fuck off and die” is less venomous than last time, but he’s still shut off. More so than before.

Hawks is going to need some outside advice.