#also i saw a new gall and gave it to quirk :)

[keeskiwi]

A couple more watercolor esk, testing out some new paper! It turns out that uh, using high quality watercolor paper has some benefits huh.

[yanderechuu]

Shower Thoughts

yandere!Class 1A x fem!reader

[3.2K]

Summary: Momo wasn’t as trustable as you had presumed.

Warning: Larceny, nonconsensual touching, masturbation

│

You used to spend roughly ten minutes in the shower, only ever needing to soak your body in the water, apply shampoo and body wash before rinsing all the foam of products from your skin and scalp. Shower thoughts simply consisted of the day’s agenda or any special occurrence that had happened the past week, never really drifting off to existential questions and dark notions that would keep you from leaving the bathroom later than usual. You neither necessarily liked taking a shower nor did you dread it, as to you it was only ever a mandatory routine of the day which you handled with a neutral mind.

But now, ten minutes were already a slow thirty, and majority of the time you bothered not to move your arms to make work of your hair, or lather your skin with soap as you normally would do had it not been for the questions plaguing your mind like how your classmates would terrorize your time and space.

Right, your classmates - who would spend every hour of the day with you as if they didn’t have anything better to do. As if you were an important subject of matter next to hero training. You never appreciated it, because from the start, you did not want to have anything do to with them. They smothered and coddled you as if air wasn’t that important to you, disregarding the way you felt about personal space, how it was very significant to you. Rare were the moments of peace as a few of them were always by your side, ‘ensuring your safety’ as they would like to quote it. Why ensure your safety? You had not been a prominent figure in the sports festival, neither did you have a quirk that could be of great utility for the villains unlike Bakugou or Tokoyami. You weren’t a problem child, either. Their justification of following you around like you were some sort of high-maintenance prisoner made no sturdy sense to you.

“There’s this new package of green tea my mother had sent me this week! Would you like to try it, (y/n)?”

“Sure.”

But if you had to choose among your classmates one whom you would tolerate for the following years you’d be in U.A., that would be Yaoyorozu Momo. She was kind and considerate, often determining your feelings before you could voice it out (not that you really had the courage to, most of the time). She was organized and pristine and never had you met someone more befitting for the definition of ‘mom friend’ than her. She was perfect in nearly every way, and even though you’d have the occasional pang of jealousy at some times her perfectionism was displayed (gender envy, isn’t it, (y/n)?), she never seemed to bear mal intent, so you would let the emotions slide. You’d see the galaxy in her eyes if you would stare long enough. Her tea was best substitute for coffee, too.

You never considered her more than a very great friend, though, and to her, that was a problem.

As you sauntered your way over to your dorm with her, you shuffled your bag to take your room key buried in the side pockets. “I’ll go down in a while, but you better make sure you’re in the common room before me.”

You wouldn’t allow your classmates to take advantage of your lone self simply because Momo wasn’t there to fend them off.

“Mhm! Lemon green tea as usual, correct?”

“Yeah. Thanks again, YaoMomo.”

Your use of sotto voce tone on her nickname gave a pleasant shiver down her spine; her eyes almost rolled to the back of her head had she not restrained herself. Having been always kept to yourself, you never felt the need to adjust your volume for others to hear properly, so oftentimes your voice came out in a whisper - not that she minded, of course. You sounded more sensual that way.

“Are you going to take a while or will I have to brew tea right away?”

“Training was more strenuous than usual, and my muscles can’t seem to relax,” you explained, “so I’m going to take a quick shower.”

From your peripheral vision as you were focused on your bag to fish out the key, you saw Momo’s jaw slack upon hearing your plan to take a bath. It was odd, but you didn’t give particular attention to it when you finally took out your desired item. You failed to notice the way she abruptly settled her gaze on the key, inspecting it as if she was deliberating its shape, form, and material, and installing it to memory.

“Oh- oh!” She exclaimed. “I do remember having some body wash that help soothe muscle strains and body aches. I can hand them to you if you want.”

You shook your head, smiling lightly. “You’re too kind, YaoMomo. But I think just hot water will do for me.”

She watched as you opened the door to your room, giving her one more smile before disappearing inside and locking the door with a distinct click. As soon as you did so, she pulled the sleeve of her wrist up, developing with her body lipids a key the exact copy of the one you had held.

You certainly lied when you had said you were going to take a ‘quick’ shower. Already ten minutes into it did you only decide to sleek yourself with liquid body soap, initially absentmindedly rubbing it on your body, before you gradually got rougher with your movements and soon you found yourself scuffing your own flesh with vehement motion.

They were excessively touchy again, your classmates. Denki got too close to your face while delivering a pick-up line that made you wish you didn’t exist in order to hear it, and upon nearing you did Bakugou pull you away from him, cursing at him to buzz off. He took his time feeling up your waist - the part he used to grab you - while at it. During lunch, as you were once again coerced into joining his group to the cafeteria, Izuku refused to let go of your hand as you walked, and Uraraka as adamant with hugging you by the hips with one arm. It was what girlfriends did, she said, and you were not entirely sure whether or not she referred to that word romantically.

And if not, then did girlfriends also normally touch the parts of which you did not want to be touched on? You felt, clear as day, a bare hand resting on your thigh when you sat on your usual spot, dangerously close to lifting your skirt for everyone to see, and when you gave Hagakure’s faceless face a questioning look, she asked you what was wrong. Her uniform sleeve was literally floating on top of your lap, and still she had the gall to pretend as if she was not touching you with lacking consent. 

 You were not safe from Shoto, either, when he offered to readjust your uniform tie and you were in no place to decline (you had the right to, but they just stripped you off of it), his breath hitching in ecstasy as his fingers brushed your chest; he was, audaciously enough, not hiding his bliss. Then he rubbed your shoulders to ‘warm you up,’ when all he really intended to do was motivate his own fantasy that you were his and he was simply scenting you like some fucking alpha to his omega.

You turned no blind eye to their gesticulations. You never once found it endearing, and wished they would stop with whatever the hell this was called, because you were quite sure this was past the border of molestation and could already be rendered a form of bullying.

But not once did you consider the possibility of having a class obsessed with your quaint self.

So you supposed that until you’d find a way to deduce their idiosyncratic actions and tendencies then you would have to make do with your own bathroom as your safe space. Momo was the only classmate you could confide to, so at least she was there.

Unfortunately, you had yet to see the other side of her coin.

Because as she was just right outside your bathroom door, obsessively taking in every bit of item you owned inside your dorm room like a madman, you were left with the impression that she was all you could ever ask for in a friend. You didn’t know how she was not any better than the rest of your classmates, adoring your very existence to the extent of insanity; how she’d crave for you so often and so terribly that she’d feel herself clench when you do so much as merely spare her a glance. And you had done that a lot today - she would have to relieve herself for it.

She spotted the heap of clothes right by your bed; it became apparent that you had stripped yourself off of it before entering the bathroom and taking a shower. Walking towards it, a portion of your seamless underwear came to view, and she resisted the urge to render into a mound of horniness in order to pick it up and inspect it closely.

It was a lighter color of (s/c). A plain, simple, modest undergarment item, still it evoked a particular feeling on the bottom center of Momo’s hips. The heat came rushing along her midriff and instigated the muscle of her legs to falter, and as soon as she felt it, a hand of hers drifted past her skirt, feeling up the slick accumulated on the fabric of her own panties only with the knowledge that your panties were currently in her possession. She needed release, but you were nearly finished with your bath, and she was still inside your room.

You walked out of the shower the moment she shut the door of your bedroom. You saw it closed, but you didn’t catch the culprit.

This unnerved you to no end. Undoubtedly, you thought, this had to be one of your classmates. Who else was it supposed to be? Aizawa-sensei (...)? You had yet to know their ultimatum, but you were sure this occurrence was another one of their schemes. You had assumed that all their weird, unappreciated antics were just to get you to socialize with them, but now you didn’t understand why it had gotten to the point of entering your room without permission.

You couldn’t keep this to yourself.

So you planned to bring it up to Momo, a representative of your class and someone whom you deemed trustable enough to share it with. Quickly, you dressed into your casual indoor attire, and rushed outside your room to head to the kitchen, where you presumed she’d be in the process of making your tea. But she wasn’t there.

Instead, she was in her own room, your panties muzzled right into her face and her own fingers buried deeply inside her cunt.

“Oh- oh, god- Ah! (Y/n)!”

Oh god, your panties. Oh god, your panties. The object most intimate to your parts of intimacy, soaking every bit of womanly secretion from your genitalia. Of all the masturbation sessions she had done to the thought of you, this was the hottest. She wasn’t quite sure whether to imagine your cunt on her lips in a position of mutual cunnilingus or your fingers thrusting into her in place of hers. She wanted both.

A whine slipped past her lips. To think that moments ago, she was in the same space as you were nude. Oh, to join you in the bathroom, doing inenarrable things to each other with the use of the showerhead. To touch your skin selfishly rather than only watch as she would do during class hours.

She came with a squeal, falling face-down to bite the duvet of her large bed. Gone in her hazy mind was her promise to you of lemon green tea, and as she still basked in the pathological euphoria of getting off, you were in the common room, anxiously waiting for her return.

But just as you had expected, someone was bound to spot you alone and take this as an opportunity to be with you, and they just so happened to be-

Oh. Aoyama.

He offered you a slice of cheese with his usual grin before settling down a few feet beside you, enough to leave you be in your personal bubble. You gave him occasional glances, unwrapping the cheese from its casing and he just sat there, eating his. He was alright, you guessed - another tolerable classmate of yours next to Momo. Perhaps it was because you used to always be alone in the classroom with him during break time that you were at ease with his presence. Or maybe he just seemed so gay and that, for some reason, comforted you. One gay presence could comfort another lol.

“It’s delicious.” Your comment came out inadvertently.

“Oui. Only the best quality for the best person.” He flaunted.

You weren’t exactly sure whether he was referring to you or to himself, but you paid little attention to that as the cheese was certainly delicious; you were not lying.

“It’s odd how your chose to take a bath at this time of the day.” He spoke.

You stopped chewing.

He meant to refer to your damp hair, but having just suspected your class of breaking and entering your room, you thought otherwise.

“I-” You choked on the cheese, ending up needing to gulp it like liquid content instead of breaking it down to fit your throat. 

Immediately, he sprang up in concern, stepping over to you to gently thump you on the back. “Are you alright?”

“No- I mean- I just-!” You wheezed, occasionally having to clear your throat. You swatted his hand away from you; you hadn’t meant to appear rude, but you did. You stood up in a rush. “L-look, I have to go.”

“Don’t you want to drink water?”

“I’m- fine,”

With your words, you took off from the common room area and headed back to your room. There were two sets of emotions that mixed to form the bile in your throat. One was wrath and humiliation upon the discovery of Aoyama’s actions. The other was betrayal and confusion from Momo’s absence when she had said she’d be brewing tea for you, and it wasn’t the tea that disheartened you. She knew of your issue with the class, and if she were busy, couldn’t she have texted you a heads-up?

She shouldn’t be surprised when at the next time she saw you, you interacted with her less. Your intention to distance yourself from her was most prominent, and it didn’t help that your classmates took notice of this, because now they were taking advantage of the situation, tagging you along with them in spite of your futile attempts to decline now that Momo was nowhere to tell them off. When she’d talk to you, you would answer, though your voice was back to speaking to her like she was a stranger. 

Resentment was stronger than ruing the lack of intimacy between you two. It was as if she had received your panties in exchange for the time she’d be spending with you, oddly enough. After much deliberation, she came to realize that this was your little ‘tantrum’ after not being able to meet with her the other day. 

It was pretty cute, she thought, that you’d try and make her acknowledge the fault on her part by ignoring her.

You didn’t walk with her back to dorms as per usual that dismissal. Instead, just like what you had used to do before finding consolation in her, you walked alone, accomplishing being able to avoid your classmates as you did. By the time she reached the dorms, you were in the kitchen, fetching a glass of water to satiate your throat. She took a hold of your wrist before you went back to your room.

“(Y/n),” she pleaded, “tell me what’s wrong.”

You looked at her with a reluctant expression. Perhaps you should. After the short while that you had been hanging out with her, her presence turned into something you came to miss. You wanted her back, but not in the way she wanted you.

“I-it’s just,” you stammered out, “y-you know how I feel being alone in the common room without you. I... I’m not comfortable with our classmates when you’re not around.” She took pride in this. “I don’t take it lightly how you left me alone the other day...”

Your voice faltered out the longer you spoke.

So she was correct; you were certainly having your little ‘tantrum.’ With a guilty smile, she left your wrist to hold your hand tenderly, and suddenly it dawned upon you the feeling of whenever Bakugou held your waist, Shoto nuzzled his face on your neck or Izuku invaded your personal space.

Fear and apprehension.

Before you could preach your objection to whatever she had planned ahead for you, she dragged you along with her and you both reached her dorm room before you could comprehend where she was taking you. 

“I’ll make it up to you.” She said, making you sit on her large bed.

Then she proceeded to make you tea, boiling water with an electric kettle situated on top of her study desk; there also laid a tea set next to her three books, which you assumed were those of which would aid her in the utility of her quirk, like encyclopedias. Beside those was a piece of cloth, unfolded, unkept - a (s/c)-colored silk fabric.

Your face drained of color.

She pushed the books towards the cloth, completely obscuring it from your view and leaving the table disorganized. You knew Momo, neat and orderly as much as possible; she wouldn��t do that without reason.

Now that you thought about it, the same day someone had barged in your room, your underwear had been missing from your set of laundry garments. You spent the next whole day actively avoiding Aoyama, thinking he was the culprit to this felony. At the present moment you were reconsidering your allegation.

“U-um, Momo, I need to go-”

“Here!”

She yelled it so giddily, so uncharacteristically, as she pushed the cup of tea towards your way. How she did so was very quick that you had not the time to take it properly, and steaming liquid fell to your décolletage, past the cotton of your uniform and streaming down the valley of your breasts. It was a moist mess. She loved every bit of it.

“Oh! Oh, my bad. I’ll- I’ll clean you up!” She exclaimed, all flushed and excited.

You didn’t find it in you to push her back when she began to do exactly what she had said, taking your blazer off, loosening your school tie and unbuttoning the dress shirt underneath, only ever being able to stare at her with eyes that evinced betrayal, because it slowly occurred to you that she was satiating her own selfish obsession with you all under the ruse of maintaining a decent friendship. 

“(Y/n),” She breathed out, “I adore you.”

She was no different than the rest of your classmates, and you were a fool to think otherwise.

[five-rivers]

Ok, on Pep Talks, does Ghost Oboro get to talk to everybody after the battle? Like how does that go.

Shouta had spent more time in the hospital this year than he had in the entire rest of his career combined.  Considering how dumb he’d been as a new graduate and how quickly he usually tried to leave the hospital (to the horror of Hizashi and his students), that painted a rather grim picture.  

He leaned back against the bed and let his eyes drift closed.  Visiting hours were over, now.  His students had all been sent back home or back to their rooms. 

Today, no, these last two days, the actual battle had been yesterday, had been... well.  At least no one had lost any limbs.  Not even Midoriya.  Although the coma was arguably worse.  

Fenton and Shirakumo had not stuck around.  Despite Fenton’s promises of an explanation, which, in retrospect, had probably been for Shirakumo, not Shouta.

It was frustrating, to say the least.  

Shouta wasn’t even sure what Fenton had done.  Clearly, he hadn’t rolled back Shirakumo’s time, like Eri might have.  Shirakumo had never had yellow eyes.  Those belonged to Kurogiri.  Except they didn’t, because Kurogiri didn’t have irises or sclera, and those had both been quite clear yesterday.  But Shouta didn’t know what else could break through a decade and a half of brainwashing and programming and who knew what else.

Shouta didn’t know if Shirakumo had traded one master for another.  

Perhaps he would have been more at ease if Shirakumo had spoken to him at all, but beyond the radio (which may very well have been another wonderful hallucination) he had been silent.  It was, to say the least, extremely uncharacteristic.  But considering what had been done to him-  Years of trauma would change a person.  Maybe it was characteristic.  

(Fenton’s words suggested that Shirakumo had been speaking to him, back on that awful day.  Somehow.  It didn’t make sense.)

The door opened, and Shouta tensed, reaching for the call button.  He had injuries he hadn’t learned how to compensate for, yet, and his weapons were stored elsewhere, but if any villain was breaking in, he’d be sure to give them-

Oh.  

“Hi,” said Fenton, walking in.  Shirakumo lingered in the doorway behind him, before offering up a hesitant grin and flashing a victory sign.  

In the heat of the battle, it had gone over his head, but both of them looked so young.  Almost the same age as his students.  He flashed his quirk at them, just for the split second he could.  No change.  At least they weren’t Toga.

“So,” said Shouta.  He hadn’t decided whether or not to push the button to call for help, yet.  Technically, Shirakumo was a villain.  One that had escaped from Tartarus, no less.  “Care to explain?”

Fenton had the gall to look sheepish.  “If I’m not whisked away before I get anywhere important, sure.”

Shouta gave the pair of them a glare he usually reserved for his students.  Shirakumo looked away, sticking his hands into the pockets of his vest, and Fenton hunched his shoulders and slid into a chair.  

“Where do you want to start?”

How was he supposed to even begin to prioritize?  His eyes fell on Shirakumo.  

“How are you...” he gestured, hopelessly.  Alive.  Here.  So young.  “How,” he settled, “are you?”

Shirakumo opened his mouth, closed it again, and held up a finger before starting to search his pockets.  

“Uh, yeah,” said Fenton.  “There are consequences to, well, everything.  Side effects.”  He waved a hand at Shirakumo.  “Especially when you’re cheating death.”

“That didn’t seem to be a problem before.”

Shirakumo let out a breathless hah! of triumph and held up a pocket radio.  “It wasn’t me before!” 

Shouta blinked slowly at the device and then at Shirakumo.  He was, Shouta noticed, wearing the fingerless gloves that had once been part of his hero costume.  They paired oddly with the formalwear.  “What?”

“Kurogiri wasn’t me!  Well, he was, but... not?  It’s hard to explain...  You were always better at this kind of thing.”  Shirakumo shrugged.  

“I...  The important thing is that you’re you,” he said.  

“Yeah!” agreed Shirakumo, pumping his fist.  

“We really needed to let your parents know-

“No,” said Shirakumo.  

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Fenton said.  “All things considered.”

“But everything you did, Shirakumo, it-”

“Actually, can you call me Cloud?  Names are... weird right now.”

“Yeah, I mean, I’m okay with my original name, but our circumstances are slightly different.”

Shouta held his breath for two long beats.  “Sure,” he said, “I can do that.  Fenton-san, are you saying that you were also a nomu?”  It would certainly explain his eclectic abilities and how he had brought back Shirakumo.

“No, gross.  And call me Danny, really.  I didn’t even know they were a thing, but I guess it explains what Clockwork meant by ‘start researching something dangerous fifty years too soon.’  Didn’t Midoriya-san and Toshinori-kun tell you about me?”

His student.  Yes.  They had.  Reluctantly, Shouta tabled his questions about Shira- about Cloud.  He looked... alright.  It was Midoriya who was in danger at the moment.  

��You know what’s going on with Midoriya’s quirk, don’t you?” he asked.  “You know what’s happening with One for All, and why he wont wake up.”

“Yes,” said Fenton, after a moment.  “So, they did tell you about it.”

“Well?” prompted Shouta, irritably.  

Fenton made a face.  “In simple terms?  He’s buffering.  It’s-  His quirk jumped forward a few places, yesterday.  You saw it, didn’t you?”

“The flying?  Yes.”

“It was more than that,” said Fenton.  “But... yeah.  It’s a combination of quirk exhaustion, his injuries, and, uhm, One for All trying to load him, basically.  He’ll be fine.”

“Why are you so fixated on him, anyway?  Midoriya showed me his notes.  It’s more than just him being the next One for All user.”

Fenton’s eyes flicked up and down Shouta’s length, assessing.  “Are you sure you want me to answer that?  You can’t unknow it.”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay, well.  Someday,” said Fenton, “Midoriya is going to be like me.  Like us, really,” he gestured at himself and Cloud, who waved.  “I always wanted someone to have been there for me, so...  And it’s my fault he’s even in this position to begin with.”

“And,” said Shouta, marveling at how quickly they had come back to the topic, “what are you two exactly?”

“We’re dead!” said Cloud, still speaking through the radio.  

“No, you’re not,” said Shouta.  

“I mean, it isn’t wrong, per se,” said Fenton, rubbing his face.  “It was his body, you saw back there.”

“Ehhhh, can we not talk about that?”

“Sorry,” said Fenton.  “The best way to put it....  Have you ever heard of quirk singularity?”

“Are you saying your quirks went through singularity?”  Because they had multiple quirks combined... although, nothing had ever indicated that Kurogiri had a quirk that allowed him to treat radios like that.  

“Kind of,” said Fenton.  “Better to say we are the quirks.  Sort of.  It’s complicated.”  He rocked a hand back and forth.  “They’re... quirks are connected to a person’s consciousness, right?  But, they’re also attached to the body.  When a person dies, their quirk still lingers for a while after.”

“That’s what happened to me!” said Cloud, raising his hand.  “When that rubble hit me, I was dead right away, but I had to do something!”

“Right, he woke up and reached out the only way he could.  Radio.”

“But,” said Shouta, “your quirk didn’t do anything like that.”

“Singularity,” said Fenton, shrugging.  “Quirks... are a lot more than you think they are.  It changed, because that’s what he had to do.”

“I can still make clouds, though, don’t worry!” said Cloud, spinning one off his finger.  

“You’re saying, Midoriya is going to die.”

“Eventually, yes.  Everyone dies.  Not everyone winds up like this.”

“All for One.  Will he...?”

Fenton grinned, showing fangs.  “If he does, you won’t have to worry about it.”  The grin faded.  “Unfortunately, I’m explicitly not allowed to do anything to him unless he does something to me, first, so...”  Fenton shrugged, as if he didn’t just brush off defeating the greatest villain of all time as if it were nothing.  

Fenton stood up and stretch.  “We’re almost out of time.  Cloud, are you sure you want to stay?”

“I’m sure,” said Cloud.  “I still have things to do here.”

“Well, you know how to get in touch.  Remember what I said.”  He turned back to Shouta, who had discretely started to thumb the nurse call button.  “Don’t feel bad about Midoriya-san.  He can still live out his life.  Just...  Help him, will you?  He needs the support.”

“If anyone can do it, you can, Shouta!” said Cloud, grinning like a loon.  

Fenton nodded and glanced at the clock on the wall before disappearing.  

“Right!” said Cloud.  “That’s my cue to go.”

“I thought you were staying,” protested Shouta, as Cloud left the radio on a nearby table and went to the window.  He started to get up.

“In this time.  The place...”  He grinned ruefully as he slid the window open and squeezed out.  “I think you understand.  Stay strong, Shouta!  I believe in you!”

“Shirakumo!  Don’t-!”  It was too late.  He was already surfing away on a cloud.  

The nurse arrived moments later.  

[shewhowillnotbenamed1]

Atrium

@mistkissedmoon​ - Sorry for the delay, this got away from me and there is a name and a part two :)

———————

A single naked bulb outlined a dark-haired silhouette. The fighter struggled to catch his breath as the heavy bag behind him swung like a pendulum on its axis. Jason reached behind him and grabbed a water bottle, taking a huge swig. The water streamed down his cheeks to mingle with the saltwater drenched down his body.

That two hours had been intense.

He had gone much harder than he had intended to today. It couldn’t be attributed entirely to recklessness or a lack of regard for his well-being. Jason Todd could feel something resting just under the surface of his skin struggling to get out. He needed to best it. To beat it back down. The feelings of inadequacy. That he was less than. That he still somehow… didn’t belong. It was only when he was alone with himself, the bag, and his emotions, would he ever allow those feelings to break free.

He was still raw - emotions and body alike - as he grabbed a cotton towel, and slid it roughly over his face. He felt his hyperactive heart rate recede, as he ran it through his damp hair, neck, and back. Allowing it to absorb the sweat, along with everything this workout had dredged up. Jason felt his cracked calm return, and his lingering doubts retreat back into the recesses of his mind. He turned his focus on the day ahead. There was regularity in routine, after all. And he did recall a large cup of coffee with a side of continental breakfast awaited him. His bare feet carried him up the stairs. Jason began retracting his scapula repeatedly. Stretching out his arms. Up and back. He was already anticipating two days of soreness settling into his muscles. As he approached the Entrance Hall, he could hear muffled voices start up. The click of high heels on marble. It was still early, so if it wasn’t the maids, it was probably another one of Bruce's overnight dates.

That man was on an indefinite break from Selina, and he was dealing with it in the only way he knew how. By enjoying half of the women who graced society pages in the Gotham Chronicle.

Or was it the Gotham Gazette?

Jason shook his head.

Whatever, it was getting old. And frankly, so was Bruce.

At this point, he pondered whether there was much point in a sarcastic greeting. He was running low on material, and it wasn’t like he would ever see these women again.

And yet…

Maybe, just one more. For a nice even total.

He abandoned the water bottle and towel on the nearest end table. Lazy gait. Loose hips. Looser sweatpants. Jason went. As he approached, he noticed something odd. Not only was there no shrill voice yelling for the maids, there wasn’t that strong, overt perfume scent in the air. The kind that… lingered. When he thought about it, their perfume was only thing about the socialites that had managed to stick around here.

Ah… And there she was. But it was odd. Relaxed posture… Waiting calmly. Now he truly wondered. Had the old man’s taste in rebound women changed overnight? And for the better?

An even closer inspection, told him that this woman, didn’t look to be on brand - at all.

Instead, Jason was face-to-face with a very stunning woman in a striped button down and tight navy blue skirt. As she glanced back at him, he noticed that her eyes were the deepest and darkest shade of blue he had ever seen. The woman gave his bare, dripping chest an unceremonious once-over. Clearly, she was trying to seem unaffected, but he knew better. He could tell. He could see her own chest started heaving at the sight of him.

This morning was turning out to be far more interesting than he had anticipated.

His mouth quirked up with a hint of a smile. “Good morning.” Jason started. She parted her lips and lowered lids as she traced the marble floor. Trying so obviously not to stare at his face or half-naked body. Well, that wouldn’t do. He moved closer and tilted his head down to her level, so she had to look at him. “And you are?”

“Looking for Mr. Pennyworth.” She replied and turned away, holding her purse to her chest. Almost like a shield.

“That’s an odd name. It’s rather rude not to greet someone when you’re a guest in their home…” He murmured. She didn’t answer, but her grip tightened on her purse. “Unless… you were planning on sneaking out after you received your fresh laundry.” He spoke to her profile, arms behind his back. “The panties - and last night’s dress.” Her pale skin broke out in a shocked flush. She whipped around and opened her mouth, but quickly closed it, when she saw the butler approach.

“Ah, Master Jason,” Alfred cut in. After appearing from seemingly nowhere. “Very good. I see you’ve met Ms. Roth.” He was oblivious to the tension in the room. That or he had the common sense not to notice.

“Actually, I was just introducing myself to our lovely visitor,” he replied, extending a hand. “Jason Todd.”

“Pleased to meet you,” she said, as she shook his hand firmly. He could detect a hint of annoyance in a tone. She had quashed most of it for Alfred’s benefit. “I’m Rachel Roth.”

Alfred explained her presence in his clipped British accent. “Ms. Roth is here to work on the library restoration project for Wayne manor.”

“I see, Ms. Roth…” Jason noted. “That’s wonderful news. That old library is certainly… overdue for an update.”

He smirked when he saw her roll her eyes. “Very good, Master Jason.” Alfred said simply, albeit sarcastically.

Well. That was a pleasant surprise. It looked like she would coming back after all. He could feel the familiar thrill of a good chase coming on. It would certainly be much easier now that he knew she wasn’t having late rendezvouses with his father - not that he would have cared.

When he saw something he wanted, he went after it.

Universe be damned.

The dark-haired man ran a hand down the center of his damp abdomen as he spoke. “Well, Ms. Roth, I would be pleased to personally volunteer my services…” Jason let it float in the air for a few deliciously uncomfortable moments, before he added, “To the cause.”

Alfred gave him a disdainful glance.

Worth it.

“Thank you, Mr. Todd.” Rachel responded curtly. She nodded at Alfred. “But, we’re covered. I believe we have all the volunteers we need.”

Alfred’s nose was in the air as he led her away, with an arm behind his back. “Right this way, Ms. Roth.”

Jason appraised every inch of her pale legs, even moving behind her as she went. And knowing full well she had seen him doing so, by the way she ran her hand through her darkly colored hair, pursed her lips, and haughtily marched ahead.

Jason was going to get her to take him up on that - one way or another.

That was certain.

———————

Rachel walked towards the library through the Grand Foyer with another box. This one larger and more cumbersome than the last. It was almost as heavy as it was unwieldy. That said, she was very glad she chose to wear flats today. This project was turning out to be much more manual labor than she had anticipated. Rachel was supposed to have help, but they had all but abandoned her.

Some volunteers they had turned out to be.

Before she could blink, strong arms slipped around behind her and lifted the cardboard box overhead. Relieving her of its weight. By the sharp clove and pine scent, along with the strong notes of smugness in the air, she already knew who was responsible.

This man had been playing games since her arrival at the manor that day.

Watching her. Goading her. Flirting with her. And even having the gall to ask her if he could steal a few minutes of her day. Part of her wondered what it would be like to say yes just once. But…

Mr. Wayne had been more than generous with everything. How she decided to organize the project, as well as how she decided to allocate her time. And also: labor, resources, budget. She somehow didn’t think his generosity extended to allocating an hour or two for her to fraternize with his son.

“Jason.” She wiped her sweaty hands on her trousers quickly, as she followed behind him. “I thought that the library was… that way…” She tore her eyes away from his form, in the clingy dark t-shirt, to realize that they had arrived at the East Wing of the library in half the time it usually took her.

Interesting.

It seemed that he had taken advantage of an unknown shortcut to get to the library. At least, one that had been unknown to her.

With no effort, he dropped the box next to the others. “Thank you. But as I said many times before, I have all the help I need.” Raven signaled for him to leave by gesturing to the open archway from which they had entered.

Jason stood his ground.

Figuratively.

What he actually did was slide into one of the very handsome dark leather wing chairs, that had been neatly arranged in a circular shape. “Really? I somehow don’t believe that.” Rachel’s arms folded under her chest. “If that were the case, then why are you carrying these all by yourself?”

Funny.

The way he asked this, it was as if he already knew.

“Everyone else is still at lunch.” Rachel explained. “Again.” She muttered tersely.

“Lunch?” Jason asked, as if hard of hearing. “Huh.” She observed him through slits.

“Yes, lunch. Pad thai…or something.” A navy blue feminine loafer tapped the box with its pointed toe.

“Pad thai? Ah, yes… I might have heard something about that.” He gave her a brief smile that didn’t meet the devious dark blue. “Alfred was rather aghast that they decided to eat out. He makes a decent pad thai himself.”

“Though not decent enough to make them stay,” she noted. Punctuating her bad luck by sharply sucking in air through her teeth.

Jason shrugged. Tracing the arm of the leather and peering over at her through his distractingly dark eyelashes. “I came to check up on you when I heard; I was concerned.”

“You were concerned, about me?” Right. He was so full of it. As if he didn’t know exactly what happened. “Is that right, Todd?”

“That’s right… I know you turned me down before, but I just thought you might change your mind.” He stretched his legs. “Or at least consider it.”

Raven was more than suspicious of his motivations. And the fact that her help had managed to disappear. But regardless of his manner of delivery, he had a point.

She needed help. She needed…him.

Raven turned. “Look, I’m a little behind, and obviously you know the manor…” The pale girl gathered her darkly colored locks behind her left ear as she took a couple of small steps towards him.

“I noticed…” Jason closed his eyes and leaned back. “And yes, I do.”

“So, what I mean is…” She began. And then, stopped. Rachel rose a brow at him. “You are loving this, aren’t you?”

“No, not at all.” Now, he placed a hand on his cheek. In a show of that self-serving concern of his. “But please, continue telling me that you need me, Rachel.”

She sighed and eyed him sulkily. “Yes. I would like your help.”

“Good start.” He stood and closed the distance between them with a few long-legged strides. “Though I’m happy to let you use me, what will I get in terms of compensation for this?” His twitching fingers were dangerously close to her hips.

“Just - grab a box.” She said through gritted teeth. “Don’t make me regret it.” She tried not to notice the heat of his chest just brushing her own.

Jason’s fingertips flicked hers, dark blue silently assuring her. And then, he disappeared through the archway. For a moment she wasn’t sure what she had just done.

Or what he might do.

Much her to her pleasure, (which naturally, she downplayed), he returned. And he came back with four boxes. With Jason helping her, she might be able to quadruple her efforts.

As she had surmised from the other day, when she received one shirtless and very sweaty surprise, Jason Todd was very well-endowed. And from today she could tell, he knew how to use his body well. He grinned at her stupor and reached over with a finger to gently bring up her chin. Sealing her parted lips, as her mouth, unbeknownst to her, had been agape. And off he went, for more boxes. Rachel felt her warmed face where he had touched her, watching him saunter on ahead. It seemed, he wasn’t just talk.

He wanted to be her personal assistant on this project.

And who knew? Rachel might even let him. After all, Jason Todd was capable.

More than capable.

[spongeguyandlelouchvibridankia]

SpongeGuy Reviews Every Disney Sitcom Ever!: Pair of Kings (1.1): “Return of the Kings”

I have a new least favorite Disney show!

Strap yourselves in folks, this is one heck of a ride!

Pair of Kings is a Disney XD sitcom from like 2010 I think? I don’t respect it enough to give it a year. This hellspawn of Satan’s BRO son who thinks that putting Chad on his resume is a surefire way to get a job is about two BRO’S: Brady (played by Jeremy from Phineas and Ferb, who has seen better shows clearly) and Boomer (I don’t know who plays him, but i sure as hell don’t care!). Brady Bunch and Ok Boomer are twins (They’re bi-racial, which is neat, but this kind of representation can only hurt) who learn that they are actually the sons of the king and queen of “Random Island so we can make Island Natives are weird jokes without offending anyone in particular” Island, and they are next in line for the throne, hence the title “Pair of fucking idiots” I MEAN “Pair of Kings”.

The rest of the show is as stupid as it sounds. Basically, there’s an island native named Mason who is Mr. Moseby from Suite Life, but if he was forced to be blinded to their idiocy, his daughter Mikayla who is every boring female lead in a show like this, you know, the one who is actually serious and doesn’t want to be with these bozo’s but the show will force her to like them because she TOTALLY doesn’t deserve anything better, and of course an evil CGI fish and the 12 year old boy who owns him and is trying to kill our leads, which according to the laugh track, means that Attempted Murder is fnuny. Huh.

Ok, i can only describe this show for so long before i die. Let’s get to the 45 MINUTE Pilot. Yes, I saw 45 minutes of this. And this is apparently the best we get of this show, since they put all their money into hooking us with this pilot.

Dear lord.

Summery: 

Brady (Mitchel Musso) and Boomer (Doc Shaw) are twin teenagers living in Chicago with their aunt Nancy and uncle Bill, as their parents are deceased. Brady and Boomer are unaware that they are destined to become the next kings of an island nation known as Kinkow. After they are bullied by the toughest guys in their high school, Mason (Geno Segers) and a group of warriors from Kinkow come to bring them home. Brady and Boomer break the island's sacred ruby, causing Kinkow's volcano to erupt. Their cousin Lanny (Ryan Ochoa) tricks them into going to get another sacred ruby so they would die on the dark side of Kinkow, allowing him to become king. While they are on the dark side, Brady and Boomer are caught by a tribe called the Tarantula People, but they are protected by the bat medallion that the Tarantula People obey. Brady and Boomer obtain the sister ruby and save the kingdom. However, the chain that controlled the Tarantula People falls off Brady's neck.

COMEDY: 0 Out of 5

I doubt this shocks anyone. The comedy of Pair of Kings makes one miss the intelligent musings of a conservative Albatross with a hernia in the middle of Sunday Church. The jokes are like The Incredible’s Hulk’s Jock Strap after a s mile jog towards the savannah: They stink so bad I almost gave up all hope for humanity and started planning an escape route from the planet. All manner of wit and charm is sucked out like a single strand of spaghetti through a straw as thin as my patience for the leads, and every character quirk is so basic and cliche that the old people’s home rejected their application. If I were to write blindfolded and and upside down, with half my keyboard letters missing and a sadistic autocorrect feature installed onto my PC, I would still write something better than the humor of Pair of Kings, because then I would have written nothing at all, and nothing is at least nothing. Pair of Kings exists; may God have mercy on our souls.

...

So in short, it’s not funny. I smiled in pain maybe once at an Overprotective dad joke, and that’s about it.

CHARACTERS: 0 Out of 5

Imagine your typical Disney Channel sitcom. Now think of the worst version of that. Now think of the Dorkly video based on that version.

Pair of Kings is 10 times worse.

The characters are bare bones at best. In fact, they are invertebrates, and not the funny absorbent ones like Spongebob. Their personalities are so 1 dimensional and obvious that if I were to show you pics of them you could tell me their entire biographies. The leads replicate an early 2010′s trend of being two BROS who keep doing stupid things, and that’s their personality. They also replicate a 2020 trend of making me wish the apocalypse was over. They are just BROS. Whenever they have even a moment of quote un quote “DRAMA” they undercut it with humor like a wet fart at a funeral reception. The supporting cast is like my life: Barely functional and clearly inept to deal with this shit right now. Mason is “The Native Overprotective Dad”; Mikayala is “DA GIRL”; Lanny is “Scar but boring”; The CGI Fish exists.

Can my pain end now?

STORY AND HEART: 1 Out of 5

I’ll make this quick: They have the GALL of pretending that OK BOOMER and Brady Bunch have felt sorrow when they almost destroy the island. They have the GALL to have them say that they will stop being kings if that’s what they want. I’m not saying they’re incapable of such feelings, but I guess this puts it best: At one point in this ACTION-COMEDY-DRAMA of sorts, Brady Bunch says he feels bad about the kids who could die on the island. He hears the volcano burst again, and says “Good Luck Kids” to run off. Sure, this is a typical sitcom joke, but if this show wants me to take it seriously that they mean well, they just shot themsleves in the foot.

The point is for set design and tbf not too bad CGI for a teen sitcom. But I can’t stand a show that lies to my face and pretends that these two are any good. Pair of Kings? More like Pair of END ME END ME END ME.

FINAL SCORE: 1 Out of 15

Bunk’d is next. May god have mercy on my soul.

EVERY SHOW RANKED:

1. Good Luck Charlie

2. Pair of Kings

EVERY EPISODE RANKED (PAIR OF KINGS):

“Return of the Kings” (S1 E1)

EVERY EPISODE RANKED (IN GENERAL):

1. “Study Date” (Good Luck Charlie)

2. “Return of the Kings (Pair of Kings)

EVERY CHARACTER RANKED (PAIR OF KINGS):

1. Mason

2. Mikayla

3. Evil Fish

4. Lonny

5.Boomer

6. Brady

EVERY CHARACTER RANKED (IN GENERAL FOR SITCOMS):

1. PJ Duncan

2. Teddy Duncan

3. Gabe Duncan

4. Bon Duncan

5. Amy Duncan

6. Charlie Duncan

7. Spencer Walsh

8. Mrs. Dabney

9. Emmett

10. Mason

11. Mikayla

12. Evil Fish

13. Lonny

14. Boomer

15. Brady

[chaoticneutralwriter]

Unorthodox

You can’t tell whether you’re fortunate or not to have a guardian demon who thinks it’s funny to go around looking like your idol crush BTS’ Park Jimin.

Writing Prompt; Everyone has a guardian angel except you. You have a guardian demon. He deals with things in a much more violent fashion, but much more effective.

guardiandemon!Jimin x reader

genre: fluff, a little light, a little anxiety inducing though given what will happen, minor mentions of death and blood but nothing too graphic

word count: 3.7k

Related works: Genuine | 3AM Demon | The Grinch Who Stole New Year | Distance and The Heart

A/N: I thought this prompt was so good for Halloween but....late to the party again.... LOLL Also this is a bit of a mental gymnastic but don’t think too hard on it. Also, BST!Jimin is forever the look™ and I’m still not over it.

“Oh my God Jess that’s so bad!” You laugh as your friend finishes her story. The rest of your group laughs along with you, sharing their own off handed comments on the whole situation she was put in. Eventually, you had to quiet down and reel them back as you had caught stares and looks from the other patrons in the cafe you were all in.

 It’s a Saturday afternoon and granted the place was busier than usual, you still managed to be the loudest bunch, getting a little too carried away with the volume of your voices. You shoot any lingering miffed gazes an apologetic smile as does some of your friends who noticed, but you can’t help yourself. It’s been so long since you’ve all got together to just hang out, everyone so caught up in their lives that time had become a luxury and any free schedules overlapping becoming as rare as a blue moon.

 So it’s times like these that you cherish, seeing everyone after so long of just the occasional instant messaging that your worries seem to fade. Eventually, your group has decided that perhaps your rambunctious energy needed to be taken elsewhere lest you wanted to disturb the people again. Seeing as how the weather outside is lovely, you all head out to do some city strolling.

 You all chatter amicably with each other, bouncing from one conversation to another. Your group makes it to a park, unanimously settling down under a tree.

 “Did you see BTS’ new song MV?” gasps one of your friends and you return her enthusiasm, eyes alight.

 “Yes! The song was so good! And how they look?!” You pause to inhale, heart palpitating at the memory of the video you watched earlier before meeting up. It was such a good way to start off your day that, as you left your house, you felt nothing could possibly ruin it.

 Or so you thought.

 Amongst the excited conversation, your gaze wanders, taking in your surroundings. It’s no surprise that you see many people walking about and relaxing or having fun in their own way and for a moment, nothing seems out of place until your eyes land on an all too familiar face. You pale, feeling your blood run cold despite the heat of the afternoon sun at the figure lounging just too casually for your taste on the bench with a vantage point straight at you.

 Even from the distance, you see his lips quirk up into a smirk, eyes crinkling in the slightest and you just know that he’s been watching you way before you had even spotted him. You hate this feeling, this sensation of breaking out into a cold sweat when such a face, under any other circumstance, would have brought you a whole slew of other emotions except absolute dread. And you hate him all the more for it.

 “Y/N? Hey, you don’t look so good. You okay?” You hear your friend call but to you, it sounded so far away from the blood rushing through your ears.

 “Y-Yeah, I’m fine. I just— I-I think I’m gonna go use the washroom real quick.” You manage to stutter, shooting a shaky smile their way before shooting up to your feet and walking off, not giving them a chance to squeeze in another word.

 You walk the distance heading towards to the washroom but after making sure you’re far enough from your friends’ line of sight, you divert. You circle around to make your way back to the bench you saw him in, only to see that it’s devoid of the occupant you’re looking for. Your mouth gapes in confusion as you scan your immediate area but failing to find the dark cladded figure.

 “Looking for me?” His husky tone breathes so close to your ear that it has you jumping. You whip around to find unmistakable dark eyes gleaming back at you with amusement and mischief.

 “God!” You gasp, nerves still rattled by his sudden appearance. He grimaces a little at the name you called out but you could hardly care, the initial dread transforming into annoyance. “What do you think you’re doing here?!”

 “I don’t think you know how this works, darling.” He replies back coolly, hands stuffed into the pockets of his well-pressed trousers as he leans his weight on one hip.

 “I don’t think you know how this works.” You hiss back, brazenly pointing an accusatory finger at the taller male, your eyes darting about quickly to make sure as few people witness this exchange as possible. He goes to open his mouth but you grab a hold of his wrist to pull him behind a large oak tree. He peers at you in disdain, finding your actions over the top and no doubt unnecessary but he lets it slide; he never understood humans and you’re the weirdest one he’s encountered.

 “You can’t just go around so casually looking like…. that! “ You continue, wildly gesturing to his person.

 “I’m sorry if my taste in clothes are far superior for your small human mind to comprehend.”

 “Not what I mean.” You say through gritted teeth, refraining from outright knocking him over the head (he’d probably end up burning you to a crisp, contract be damned). “I meant looking like a Korean idol that the whole world knows! You’ll be spotted!”  

 “And here I thought you’d be rather pleased that I look like this.” He replies in mock exasperation, running a hand through lush silvery locks as if to further emphasize his point. You find yourself holding your breath, cursing at the butterflies unintentionally fluttering in your stomach. You forcefully remind yourself that no, this is not the person who you think it is despite looking exactly like him. 

 In fact, he wasn’t even a person to begin with.

 “If this isn’t what you wanted, would you rather I go for something…. more natural?” The ruby lustre taking over his eyes as well as his sudden drop in tone startles you into action. You nearly tackle him to prevent any sorts of supernatural events from happening in such an open, public space.

 “No! No, no stop! Not what I meant either!” Your hands grip at his arms, heart thrumming a little in panic at his small threat. He smirks triumphantly at you, causing you to narrow your eyes in a glare before releasing your hold on him in a huff. You never realized dealing with a demon could be such a headache. Rubbing at your temples, you exhale through your nose.

 “Just— Can you not follow me around? Or like, not be so out in the open about it? Again, you literally look like a Korean idol…. that actually exists.”

 “So?”

 So?! You think incredulously. You reel yourself in before you explode again. “So…” You reiterate with much effort, “You’re technically famous— a celebrity. Which means people will lose their minds if they see you and on top of that, if photos of you gets out on the internet, your cover is going to be blown because how can anyone explain why Park fricken Jimin of BTS is here, in North America, when he’s also half way across the world in South Korea?!”

 You’re practically whisper screeching from working yourself up, all the while the carbon copy of one Park Jimin (only that he’s not) watches you with mild interest, looking as impeccable as a marble statue. You stop your tirade to pin him with another seething glare and all he does is quirk his lips. To your astonishment, he throws his head back to let out a bark of laughter. If it was actually Park Jimin, you would’ve swooned and keened at the sight but it makes you glance around nervously to see if it has drawn any attention, thankfully no one seems to notice and was stilling milling about, minding their own business.

 He comes down from his spiel, having the gall to wipe at his eyes too.

 “Oh my sweet cherub,” He breathes and you frown at the pet name, “You actually thought I would waltz around to parade this beautiful face for all to see?”

 You give him a pointed look, one that clearly says, ‘Yes you would, knowing you’. He kisses his teeth; hands on either side of his hips and you’re ready for an incoming sassing.

 “What I’m saying is that you’re more stupid than you look and it offends me that you would think I would be stupid enough to do that. Of course I’m aware.” He huffs indignantly. “Which is why, for your information, demons have cloaking spells; which means you might be able to see me but anyone else won’t.” He then peers down at you like he was explaining something to a child. “Happy?”

 “Could’ve told me sooner.” You snap back in defense, like how were you supposed to know any of that beforehand? Not like he gave you a Demon 101 booklet when you first met.

 “Yeah, but I thought it would be funnier to make you look crazy for talking to thin air.” He sniggers back. At that, you whip your gaze around again, immediately landing on a couple and a family watching you warily from a distant. You feel your face heat up in embarrassment, thoughts running a mile a minute, wondering just how long he actually had this cloaking spell on and was just messing with you.

 Your gaze flits back around, ready to give him a piece of your own hell, only to find empty space. You swear you could physically feel your blood pressure rising and perhaps, to your twisted delight, you would die before having to experience the full extent of what it means to have a demon as your metaphorical guardian angel.

 —

 The day goes on with not seeing so much as a hair from the demon with an angel’s face. You breathed a sigh of relief knowing that. You’d spent the rest of the day hanging out with your friends, eventually grabbing dinner together and by the time you’d all said your goodbyes, the sun has long gone down.

 You swiftly make your way down the streets to the nearest subway station, figuring it be much cheaper and faster considering Ubers were much harder to grab on the weekends and in a busy downtown area. Also, the ride wouldn’t be that long anyways.

 Besides, you’re only worry at hand is actually getting to a station; they were practically at least two blocks apart and the chill the night air brings does nothing to settle your growing nerves. Downtown was lovely during the day but at night it’s like all of the shadier things make themselves known. You’re on edge, eyes darting around every so often to be aware of your surroundings as you pick up your pace. 

 Vaguely you hear a man’s gruff voice call out to you but you determinedly ignore it, catching sight of the station’s sign just ahead of you. You make your way down the stairs, heart starting to beat a little erratically as you press your metro pass to the gate and slide through. Once you’ve descended the second flight of stairs leading to the tracks, your nerves starts to settle down.

 The train hadn’t arrived yet, a quick glance up at the monitor informed you that it would be in five minutes, leaving you with no choice but to wait. You heave a breath to yourself, taking out your phone to plug your headphones in. Taking a quick glance around, you find that you’re probably one of three people in the tunnel; a man sitting hunched over on one of the benches looking a little worse for wear and an older lady way down the other end from where you were.

 You think nothing much after, and before you know it the train is pulling up on the tracks. You shuffle in, easily finding a seat given the lack of passengers in your car. Another sigh; you’re halfway to getting home and so far, there’s no hiccups. You relax at the notion, settling into your seat as the train takes off and you wait again until your stop arrives.

 It was about two stops away that things start going south. It starts when the compartment door to your cart slides open, startling you to look up and see the man at the station before you boarded. You duck your head down, not wanting to draw any attention and hoping that he’s just passing through. Luck wasn’t on your side however, as he stumbles and then takes a seat right across from you, the scent wafting from him nearly makes you choke.

 You’re determined to fixate your gaze on your phone, pretending to be scrolling through the same apps you have open, but even then you could feel his heavy gaze on you.

 Please, please hurry up! 

 You steal a quick glance anxiously at the map above you, a small LED light indicating which stop you’ve just left and how far away yours is. It’s then that you hear a gruff voice call out through your headphones. Still, you pretend you didn’t hear and it worked until his voice grew to a volume that it startles you. Nervously, your eyes flit to meet the man and warily take out an earbud.

 “Fuckin’ kids goin’ deaf.” You hear him say under his breath before he roughly grunts, “Got any change on you?”

 You shake your head, quietly replying, “No, I don’t. Sorry.” And you silently prayed that would be the end of that but before you can put your earbud back in, the man speaks again.

 “Where’re you goin’ so late huh?”

 “Just— home. Excuse me.” You keep your answer clipped, shooting up from your seat with the decision to get off this cart at the upcoming station and try to get back on in one where there were other people on. The station the train pulls up is one short from your actual stop but you don’t think you can handle being in the same cart alone with this man, even if it’s just for one more station. You get off, trying to keep yourself from trembling to be as subtle as possible. You’re best bet was that you a) get on a cart that has people or b) he won’t follow you at all and you can possibly catch the next train.

 Unfortunately, neither one happens because out of your peripheral you see his looming figure exit the cart, walking down your way. You pick up your pace, heading more to towards the front of the train but the chimes signaling the doors are about to close catches your attention and you gasp. You bolt into the closest cart and hope that you were much quicker than the man.

 Heart racing, you glance around, finding an empty cart. You’re not sure whether that’s a good sign or not but you’ll take it.

 Just one more stop.

 You chant it like a mantra, too antsy to take a seat now as your mind had taken precautions that if you see any signs of the man again, you would head through the compartment leading to other carts.

 Your station name rings over the PA and you almost jump in joy. As soon as the doors slides open, you’re out of there. You make quick work of the steps, leading up from the tracks and then exiting the station. The orange tinge of the streetlights offer little comfort to you as the prospect of having to clear one more block before getting to your house looms at the forefront of your thoughts.

 You steel yourself and walk at a faster pace than usual, head down and clutching your bag in a vice grip. You round the corner of the convenient store, a checkpoint. You’re nearly there.

 “Hey, girlie.”

 You spoke too soon, so hyper focused on just getting home that you miss out on a group of guys hanging around off the side of the store (doing God knows what). Your strides, though fast, were not long enough to outpace the figure coming up beside you.

 “Where you going so late?”

 You shrink away from him, trembling as you try to maintain as much distance as you can without having to put yourself out on the road. You think, quite frustratingly, why do they not have anything better to do as you stubbornly ignore his advances, and very close to straight up running. 

 “Shouldn’t be out here on your own like this.” You catch the sentence too close for comfort and that was the final straw to push you into a run. You don’t get far however, as a large hand roughly grasps you by the elbow, jerking you off balance.

 “Hey! I’m talking to you. It’s rude to ignore someone who’s—“

 “Don’t touch me!” You shout, voice bordering hysteria. You rip yourself from the man’s hold with as much force as you can and it causes you to stumble a little. For the first time, you catch sight of three figures, the one speaking being closer to you compared to what you assume are his friends, trailing not too far behind but you don’t care to put a face to your harasser.

 “What the fuck! Why you gotta be such a bitch for?!” The hand makes a grab for you and snags your bag. The force this time gives you a whiplash, shoulder pulled painfully and you whimper, feeling tremors go through your body uncontrollably now with tears threatening to overtake your sight.

 Your mind flies into a panicked state, seconds away from abandoning your  bag altogether and just making a run for it when the street lamps overhead flickers. All at once, they go out along with any light source within the area because suddenly everything is so dark.

 It all happened so fast.

 The weight is lifted off of you, a chill settling over and then you hear an ear-piercing shriek. You can’t tell if it’s your own or something else as a cacophony of noises fill your ears.

 Indecipherable shouting.

 Scraping.

 Crunching.

 Gurgling.

 Disembody voices.

 And then silence.

 It felt like you had been trapped in a whirlwind, shaking violently from the aftermath of it and so disoriented you hadn’t realized you’ve curled in on yourself with eyes shut tight until a soft voice coaxes at you.

 “Y/N….” 

 It’s familiar, you’ve heard the lilt many times before and it so easily calms your hyperventilating. Despite the comfort it brings however, the strangeness of hearing such a voice so close to you creeps back in. A warm hand brushes against your own held to your ears and though the touch is gentle, you still flinch. The hand retracts momentarily before the voice speaks to you again.

 “Y/N…deep breaths and look at me, Y/N.” It’s a soft command and you do as you’re told, breathing in deeply and exhaling a couple of times before finally peeling your eyes open.

 Your vision is slightly blurred from unshed tears, but you make out his handsome, young face and silvery locks in the orange dim of streetlights. His deep ruby eyes bore into yours steadily, expression stoic if only for his gaze to betray the concern reflecting in them. He blinks and they’re back to being a deep brown.

 “That’s my girl.” He praises with a small smirk, voice no louder than a murmur as his hand engulfs yours in a warm hold. An overwhelming urge to be close to him takes over, as if your body and mind is crying with relief at the sight of a safe haven and before you can think straight, you rush forward, collapsing into him with hands feebly finding purchase on his black button down shirt. 

 “Jimin….” You croak out, care and logic thrown out the window because you so desperately need something to anchor you down right now and his was a face that your mind knew could do you no harm, like it was second nature. He doesn’t seem to mind; gathering you in his arms all the same and gently cradles you.

 “Easy now…shhh easy.” You hear him coo as you bury your face into his neck until your senses flood with his scent; a surprising combination of lavender, vanilla and spices. His hands rub soothing circles around your back until the shaky breaths you exhale return to normal. 

 He helps you to stand slowly, minding the small tremors that erupt every so often from you and the way he’s treating you like he’s handling delicate glass is so unlike how he normally is that it makes you want to double-take.

 “Are you hurt?” He pulls away from you slightly if only for that moment to ask, though he takes the liberty to look you over himself anyways without waiting for your reply. You shake your head no, voice still feeling as if it’s stuck in your throat. As he’s wiping away a stray tear, you bring your gaze to take a good look at him, eyes drawing up to take in his full height. His silvery coiffed hair is still immaculate as ever and his face is picture perfect, flawless except….

 You reach up in spite of your shaky hands to decipher what it is that marred his otherwise porcelain complexion when he stops you. He gently guides your hand away before reaching up with his own to swipe at his cheek. Your Jimin doppelganger tsked at the sight, indifferently wiping his soiled fingers onto his shirt.

 “Nothing for you to worry about, darling.” He says, smiling at you so angelically. You blink, perplexed until slowly, your mind starts to catch up with the events that transpired.

 “W-Where—?” You make to turn your head around, looking for your assailant but again, he stops you by taking a hold of your chin and directing it back to him.

 “Ah, ah, eyes on me sweetheart. Like I said, there’s nothing to worry about anymore. You’re safe.” 

 “But—“

 “Shh... Sleep.” His hand gently cups your cheek and with his whispered words, your mind is overcome with a sudden haze and your eyelids droop shut.

 He catches you mid-fall, scooping you up in his arms as if you weighed nothing more than a feather. He kisses his teeth again, annoyance rolling off of him in waves as his eyes narrow down on his also soiled shoes.

 Whatever.

 At least you didn’t notice that.

 Nor the streaks of blood leading to the dumpster.

[365daysoftododeku]

3rd July 2019

Author: Kenyoda

Admin’s Note: Hallo! If you’ve been following the Candid Shoutos series by @ebonyphd, here is a new update! The idea is inspired by @crzangel‘s headcanon here.

Warning: Mild mention of suicide attempt

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Suffering for S(omeone)ubscribers

Shouto found Izuku to be one of the most amazing people he had ever met. He still had a hard time believing that Izuku was so enamored with him. He was far from social, had enough baggage to fill a moving van, and far more practical than romantic. But Izuku still told him he loved him every morning, still whispered about how beautiful and sweet Shouto was when they were alone. Still mumbled about how lucky he was.

Honestly, Shouto often felt like he was the lucky one in the relationship. On top of all of Shouto’s internal flaws, he had plenty of external ones as well. He had a huge scar that took up a quarter of his face, and dripped down his chest, throat and back. On top of those, he had gained plenty more scars from training and fighting villains through his time in UA. The stress from everything often left him drained, pale… and his weight was dropping again. He hoped no one noticed. 

Izuku though, thrived on the action. He was at his best when he was saving people. Whether it was from a villain, a natural disaster, or simply the fear brought on by a nightmare, Izuku shined. The boy was born to be a hero. Shouto was not. He could admit that now. It wore on him in the worst way. But his boyfriend lived for it. 

Izuku’s usual nature made the present situation all the more confusing. 

They were currently sitting on Shouto’s futon, the laptop in front of them. A game was pulled up, which they had downloaded for a specific purpose. In the aftermath of their accidental relationship reveal, Shouto figured things would go downhill. But things just kind of continued. Sure there were those that had plenty of negative things to say, his father being the worse, but for the most part it was old news within two weeks. The most surprising thing was the outpouring of support. It was really humbling. There were so many people that were happy for them and wanted to see their relationship succeed.  He held that close to his heart for those days that were especially difficult, right next to his love for Izuku. 

In order to celebrate the candid_shoutos page getting 5,000 followers, they had polled their subscribers on what they would like to see more of. Videos was the top choice. So, they naturally asked what they would like their first video to be on. And naturally, they wanted him and Izuku to play a horror game together. Shouto had not felt one way or the other about it, and Izuku was always happy that their followers were happy. So, they began looking. 

They couldn’t do a long one because PlusInsta only allowed short videos. Finding short games was kind of difficult. However, Kaminari suggested a short one that he claimed was not too scary. It was all of a minute long and not too complicated to play. 

So here they were sitting and staring at a black screen with the words Death Trips printed in white block letters. Izuku was staring at the screen like it was going to bite him. They were capturing their gameplay using a game recorder, again thanks to Kaminari, so, Shouto was watching the camera which was showing Izuku’s pale face. He had never seen his boyfriend look so unsettled.

“You know… we can do something else.” Shouto suggested. 

“No, no… this is fine.” Izuku said. Though he made no move to start the game. Shouto sighed. 

“Clearly it is not fine,” Shouto argued. “You are pale, love, I can see the freckles by your collar.” Izuku finally turned to look at him. His eyes held a little fear, but Shouto also noted the hunched posture. It was not saying afraid so much as frustrated. 

“I just— it’s so stupid. It’s nothing, let’s just get this over with,”  Izuku said with a huff. Shouto flinched at his gruff manner. It was unusual. Izuku was normally happy to open up to him about anything. So, Shouto was really worried. What should he do? How can he help? 

“But, you’re upset?” Shouto tried again. Izuku’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“This so stupid! I’m supposed to be a hero and I am scared of a game. There is nothing that can actually hurt me and yet… I don’t want to do it,” he moaned. Tears were gathering in the corners of his eyes. Shouto blinked. He thought this was out of the blue, but then he remembered that Izuku usually skipped out on the class movie nights when people brought out horror movies. The one time he had been humiliated into staying, he cried through the whole thing. 

As Izuku continued to wallow in his self recrimination, Shouto was struggling to find a way to make him feel better. Izuku just always seemed to know what to do or say. Shouto was more likely to make an unintentional joke or make something awkward. He fell back on old habits and decided to be blunt. 

“So? You’re a human being, just like everyone else… and everybody is afraid of something.” he said as he wrapped an arm around his boyfriend, pulling him close. Izuku did not push him away, thankfully, instead hugging him back. 

“I mean, I know… it’s just so unjustified.” he sighed. Shouto looked back at the screen, thinking back to the movies he had seen with some of his other classmates. In all honesty, Shouto did not get the point of horror movies. A part of him felt disgusted that people paid to see people frightened, distressed, sometimes murdered ruthlessly, or frightened into insanity. Shouto did not find it entertaining, he hardly even remembered them once they were over. The SAW movies had been the final straw for him. It had been exaggerated, sure, but it had hit a nerve for Shouto. 

Jigsaw had claimed that he was trying to show people that they really wanted to live, by torturing them until they either had to murder someone else or endure horrific actions to leave. It sounded too close to Endeavor’s  reasoning about his “training”. All the pain, scars, phobias, and complexes Shouto had to contend with on a practically daily basis was seen as necessary at best and imagined at worse. Shouto shuddered at the thought. His back burned at the reminder of the lengths his father would go to. 

“Fear doesn’t have to be, it just is. Besides anyone can bullshit justification. We both know that,” Shouto darkly. Izuku’s glance went from frustrated to concerned. 

“Your dad’s not hurting you again, is he?” Izuku asked, becoming more alarmed by the second. 

“Not yet,” he huffed. There was no use in pretending. Both of the people in this room knew about Endeavor. His father had been blowing up his phone. Back to back phone calls when he was not in classes, most of which were left unreturned. This usually ended up with Shouto having to endure an hour long verbal lashing session when he finally was weary enough to answer the phone. The results of said session would last for weeks, resolving itself just in time for him to start up again. But Shouto would take the man’s vitriolic tongue over his flames and fists. 

“The bastard better not,” his boyfriend snarled. His face contorting into an angry grimace.

“Calm down, Izuku, he hasn’t been near Musutafu in months. I’m fine,” he insisted. Liar… his brain accused. Izuku gave him an exasperated look. Apparently, Izuku knew it, too. 

“Uh huh, but your PTSD is worlds away from my childish monster phobia…” Izuku lamented. Shouto felt himself relax at Izuku’s willingness to move to another topic. This was swiftly followed by frustration and guilt. Even now, Izuku was calming him down, when Shouto was the one that was supposed to helping Izuku!

“Didn’t you hear what I said? Fear is not rational. It just does its job. It’s not like you are freezing up during an attack. You are in the safety of your own room. You can be human here… heaven knows I won’t judge you. I lack Bakugou’s gall, you see.” Shouto joked weakly. Izuku spluttered and dissolved into a fit of laughter. Maybe Kaminari was not joking when he said Shouto was funny. 

“I guess… I just… All Might is counting on me to look after Japan in his place and I just don’t know if I’m doing this right…” Izuku sighed, dropping his face into the pillow. Shouto felt for his boyfriend. He understood that kind of pressure too well. That pressure had been sitting on Shouto’s shoulders since the manifestation of his Quirk.  While Shouto knew that All Might and Izuku had a relationship that was completely unlike the one between him and his sire, the whole protege thing did not sit well with him at all. 

Basically, their meeting was a simple accident. A man who had run into a wall and out of time and a child desperate for a chance. All MIght had basically offered Izuku his dream in exchange for the ability to live his own life. Shouto found himself wondering if Izuku really knew what he had done that day. Even if he didn’t, Shouto knew his boyfriend would not change his decision. Because Izuku was loyal like that. His relationship with Bakugou was telling enough. His father would easily call Izuku foolish for it. 

If Shouto were honest, he was only upset for one reason. At some point, whether either of them wanted to or not, Izuku was going to have to choose between Japan or him. There was just no feasible way to do both, at least in Shouto’s mind. It hurt to think about. What made it particularly rankling was that if Izuku had remained Quirkless… few of those people that Izuku would give him up for would have even cared what happened to him. Shouto himself never would have met him, either. He may not have even made it out of his first year. 

He had never mentioned to his boyfriend just how low he had been then. He had hit some pretty low points since his first year but he now had friends and Izuku to keep him steady. He had not fallen back to that point in a while. Back then Shouto had hurt from the inside out. He had stopped caring. Yes he sniped and snarled at his father, but they both knew it was impotent… his father had found it irritatingly amusing some of the time. After all, the man had ripped out any real teeth or claws Shouto had a long time ago.  

Shouto had been planning to overwhelm his opponents with his ice and take 1st place, then go home and hang himself with the medal. It was a last, desperate ‘fuck you’. Shouto was not stupid, deep down he knew he would never be able to replace All Might… not with ice alone. After all, most people despise winter and pray for spring or summer. Winter and all it brought was constantly used to personify all the things that humanity despised and feared. The sun, Shouto was not. He would have never replaced Japan’s Shining Sun, All Might.  

But then, he met his own personal sun in the form of Midoriya Izuku, a boy that would cry at the drop of a hat, his heart too big for his body. Though lately, it had been doing its best to catch up. Shouto loved and hated it. He loved the feeling of being wrapped in Izuku’s strong arms, sheltered from the world and his worries. He hated it for pretty much the same reason. He had grown soft since they had been together. Shouto had stopped seeking safety or kindness long ago. But since Izuku, he had changed, so much so that Shouto could no longer bare to sleep alone. 

Another heavy sigh drew Shouto’s attention back to Izuku. Right, he can wallow in his own issues later. 

“Look, I know I am no expert, but honestly… there was a reason I singled you out as being related to All Might,” he started. Izuku groaned.

“No! Shouto we have talked about this... “ he complained, a hint of an unwilling smile in his voice. A smile pulled at his own lips in response. 

“Let me finish. You constantly remind me of him… you are always smiling. You always leave a room better than when you found it. When you are present, I feel safer… like everything will be ok. You are so genuine in everything that you do, trust me… that is a rarity. And you care… so much…” Shouto said, letting all the words of praise out that he had often left behind his lips out of fear of being seen as insincere. Izuku lifted his head up from the pillow, eyes wide glistening with tears. 

“Shouto…” Izuku whispered, his name sounding like a prayer. 

“I am sure you are doing just fine.” Shouto said. “You saved Iida… you rescued Bakugou… you saved All Might at the USJ. You have saved countless lives including mine. If that does not qualify as making you a good future hero and symbol of peace… then… I fear for the rest of us,” Shouto said thickly, a lump growing in his throat. Izuku sat up and pulled Shouto into his arms, squeezing him. The warmth of his hug melted the lump in his throat, and it escaped him in the form of tears.  He didn’t even know why he was crying. A wave of misery had just rolled over him and he was helpless to stop it. 

For a long moment, the two clung to one another and cried. Once his sobs died down to sniffles, Shouto pulled away.

“Sorry, Izu, I don’t know what came over me,” he apologized roughly. Izuku wiped at his own eyes with his wrist. 

“I think we both needed that. The accidental reveal… the Sports Festival… training… you and your sperm donor and just stress up to our eyeballs. Something was going to have to give,” Izuku sighed. But he did look better, Shouto’s chest had certainly felt lighter. 

“Yeah,” Shouto conceded. They settled back into each other’s arms. After a while, Izuku let him go. 

“Thank you for helping me through that, Shouto. It still floors me that you think so much of me,” he said with a chuckle. A small but genuine smile on his face. 

“Same,” said Shouto feelingly. Izuku’s smile grew along with a blush on his face. 

“Let’s get this over with,” he said. Shouto noticed that his boyfriend was still apprehensive but he was no longer pale. Shouto nodded. Izuku gets into a better position and finally clicks

play

. A block of text shows up explaining that the player is a detective hunting a serial killer named Lady Death. The detective has tracked her down to a motel. 

The screen lights up to show a simple motel lobby. There were a few paintings to look at but nothing to really interact with, not even a person behind the reception desk. Izuku commented on how strange it was. He mentioned that horror games were usually about the atmosphere, at least according to Kaminari. Shouto snarked about trusting Kaminari as an expert on something. Izuku insisted that Bakugou agreed with him. After that, Shouto did not say anything else.

Izuku finally got tired of stalling and approached the elevator, hunching his shoulders. Shouto realized that he expected to be jump scared. He wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s midsection, offering reassurance. Izuku turned to him and smiled. Then he pressed the button to go up and waited. The elevator dinged. Izuku stepped on it and squeaked as the doors closed. Shouto squeezed him and Izuku’s unoccupied hand came to rest on Shouto’s. 

The doors finally opened to a dark and empty hallway. Izuku whimpered. Instead of moving forward, he sat back both hands squeezing Shouto’s now. Shouto sighed and freed on of his hands from under Izuku’s and continued the game. The moment the character steps out of the elevator the lights in the hallway come one by one, buzzing in a creepy manner. Shouto was more concerned about the fact that Izuku’s hand was squeezing tighter and tighter with each light. 

“Uh… Izu, I really mean no offense… but I need my hand,” Shouto finally said. Izuku immediately let go, eking out a weak apology. Thankfully, the final light takes a beat to turn on. When it does it is accompanied by a loud horn riff and the villain at the end of the hallway is illuminated. Izuku shrieked. 

“OhnoOhnoOhnoOhnoOhno..! Nonononononononononno!!!!” he cried in terror as the villain, an unfinished model, comes tearing down the hallway towards them. Shouto was pretty much clueless about what to do given the game gave few instructions. Izuku’s panic was starting to rile up his own.

“I don’t know… can we go back…?” he asked, voice trembling vaguely. The model was getting closer and closer. 

“I DON’T KNOW!” Izuku squealed, voice shrill with panic. Shouto was preparing to watch the character get slaughtered...

Then the villain tripped. 

“Wha…?”

“Huh?” Shouto blinked at the screen as the villain continued to lay still, a vase and the table it had been sitting on the floor next to them. He then turned and blinked at his equally bewildered boyfriend. Izuku blinked back. Shouto looked back at the screen in time to watch it transition to the credits. After the credits, there was a single phrase:

Yeah that was it.

Then it went back to the start screen. Then it hit Shouto. 

“Death trips!!!” Shouto howled before dissolving into uncontrollable laughter, snorting and squealing all the while. He hated his laugh no matter how many times Izuku said it was adorable. But there were two things that never failed to get a laugh out of him: puns and slapstick. They were often so unexpected that Shouto almost always laughed. Thus, he became conditioned to laughing at them which only made it worse. This game did both.

“S-shouto… I don’t… wait— pfft!” Izuku snorted before falling into a hysterical heap next to him. They laughed and laughed. Shouto clung to Izuku, moaning in pain but he couldn’t stop. Finally, their giggling faded into breathless wheezing. Once they got a hold of themselves, they turned back to the camera and thanked their followers before promising to do another non-horror related video soon.  They saved the video and Izuku promised to edit it soon and post it. They stretched out on Shouto’s futon and happily basked in the peace that had settled over them. 

They ended up falling asleep that way.        

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Would you like your work to be featured in the 365 Days of TodoDeku Project? Apply here! (≧∇≦)/

[giranswife]

A Taste of Power

Summary: The beginning of a ruthless, angry werewolf. She’s done holding herself back and being the victim. It’s now her turn to fight, and she doesn’t like to play nice.

W: self-insert, angst, violence, bullying, alcohol mention

(( Note: ALRIGHT SO, this is my villain’s origin story. It’s very heavy, which is why I have so many warnings. Please, be careful to read those above before you check this out. It gets very heavy and has themes that might make people uncomfortable. This is also my villain insert, so just keep that in mind. A lot of her stories will be dark, obviously. Just want to warn you guys enough, but I went really heavy on the writing bc I was enjoying writing this a lot. ))

There was always a beast inside of me.

It’s ravenous and blood thirsty, hidden away in the depths of my insides.

A dormant monster just waiting for the perfect moment to awaken.

I felt it getting stronger every night, but mostly during a bright full moon. The changing didn’t begin until I hit puberty. Right at the pinnacle of my hormonal changes and growth, the perfect time to unleash my inner rage. Like a covered cauldron, boiling close to its breaking point. Being that young with a power that you don’t even understand yet… it’s a disaster waiting to happen.

For a long time, I didn’t believe that I had a quirk. Not a strong one anyway. From the day I was born I was just the wolf girl with ears and a tail. I may have had parts of a wolf and acted like a wolf since birth, but I had no other signs of having anything else special about me. No powers other than a keen sense of smell and hearing. And any other tendencies that a wolf might have.

Most of the things that I dealt with was name calling and attempts at grabbing my ears and tail all the damn time. It was humorous to mock me, because I was nothing special than a dog. A dirty, rotten, grumpy dog that no one ever wanted to be around. Not even my own parents wanted me. The only family I had ever known was my uncle, and he was never around either.

Too busy conning people out of their money on busy streets, pickpocketing and other shit that I could only imagine. When he came home, the last thing he wanted to do was pay attention to me. Not that I’d want him anywhere near me. He’s always too rough and too loud. He grips my ears so roughly and yanks them when I’m disobedient.

If he doesn’t respect me, then why should anyone else?

“You couldn’t have been born with some god damn wings or fire powers? Maybe then we’d have a nicer place and more opportunities.”

“Don’t think you’re getting dinner tonight, sweet pea. I don’t have enough money to feed your god damn animal stomach. Go fetch a rabbit or somethin’. Make yourself fucking useful for a change.”

“Get back inside. None of those kids want to play with a goddamn animal. Especially not a smelly one like you.”

I was tired of crying. Tired of listening to all of the nasty things that everyone had to say about me. The weight of everything began to pile onto my shoulders, until it was difficult to breathe. Even as an innocent child I learned right away that I couldn’t rely on anyone but myself. The bubbling inside me began to grow and grow, until there was a fire in my veins that I had never felt before.

It was like something had snapped inside of me. The inner monster inside me was rattling its cage, and it knew that I was on the brink. Feeding off of my unstable emotions, taking advantage of the weakest parts of myself.

The final straw for me was when a couple of kids in the class above me decided to pick on me one final time. Grabbing my tail and yanking it so hard that I tumbled backwards and dropped my books. The puddle that I fell into was murky, and mud decorated my uniform completely soaking me from head to toe.

The tallest boy, I remember his name being Futoshi. Had some kind of plant quirk and would always use it for ridiculous things. Mainly just to be an obnoxious boy and sometimes a perv. And yet he would always mock me for being a useless, wolf girl. Sometimes teased me for being cute in a gross way that made me uncomfortable.

“I thought you liked that, Wolf-Girl.”

“My name’s Ashley, you dimwit.”

“Ouch. Nice insults, fluffy. Where’d you learn them, the back of a cereal box?”

I narrowed my eyes and tried to stand up, only to slip back into the puddle.

The bubbling in my veins was beginning, but I never could have predicted that it was anything else than just a thing. I was never told any different. But how could I prepare for something like this?

The rest of the kids laughed at me, but at this point I was extremely numb to it. All I wanted was to get up and walk home at this point. There was no use going to school if I couldn’t even make it in the door.

It never made sense to me why they would mock me. I get that kids are assholes, but… there were plenty of students with weird quirks. Each and every one of them were different and that was what was so cool about having a quirk. It was the quirkless that were usually mocked, depending on who they were.

It must have just been me. I must have been an easy target.

“I think we should probably teach you some manners. A dog should be well trained.”

“I’m a wolf. Not a fucking dog.”

Finally, I was able to stand up, throwing my books down once I realized they were too soaked. My jaw clenched with anger, and I felt my fingernails digging into my skin. I wasn’t upset or on the brink of tears anymore. I was fucking pissed. Angry and tired of fighting against the current of my emotions.

I was done letting them walk all over me. I was finished being the victim. They were going to know what it felt like to be me for a change.

They laughed at my power stance, Futoshi using his quirk to grab at my ankles with vines that popped up from the ground. When I didn’t jolt or act surprised, he just found it amusing. It’s almost funny looking back on this now, because I’d never believe for a second that he would be a hero today.

“Let’s teach you some tricks, doggy. Now, why don’t you sit!”

The second that he whipped his vines forward, I felt something deep within me break. The cages erupted and the beast was finally released. It was a slow process from the inside out, but to them on the outside it was merely a few seconds at best.

My fangs were exposed through my clenched jaw, a loud growl sounding from deep within my chest. The color of my eyes began to shift to a violent red, the intensity growing with the anger pulsing through my veins. The kids surrounding me slowly started to become a little scared, and that was only the beginning.

“I said… I’m not a fucking dog!”

My voice was almost a demonic growl, another loud sound escaping from my throat. The first things to change were my feet, fur beginning to grow from my body and long claws lengthening from them. Slowly, the rest of my body began to take shape, growing massively in size. It wasn’t necessarily a pleasant experience, but I was too angry to feel much of it.

The beast within me had finally been exposed. It was finally free from the bindings, and the rumbling that I felt when I howled was chilling. It is a part of me, but sometimes I forget that it can take over. When I let myself become this angry and impulsive, I have little to no control over what it does.

That is why I still can’t really remember exactly what happened that day.

The minute that I shifted, it was almost like I had blacked out. I didn’t wake up again until I was in a hospital bed, hooked up to monitors with a wound in my side. That was the first time that I saw myself for what I truly was. A caged monster, or a girl that was being held hostage by a monster. But I refused to believe that I wasn’t in control.

Futoshi and his gang were badly injured, but they were fine. They were able to restrain me long enough to get them to safety, but they weren’t there soon enough. I knew that I was going to be in a lot of trouble, but I didn’t even care. When one of the pro-heroes came to talk to me to discuss what happened and give me a lecture on the importance of controlling my quirk, I couldn’t care less.

This wasn’t the first time I had felt this way to authority before, but I was done listening. I was done being lectured when I was just protecting myself. I was also amazed by my own power that I didn’t even know that I had. All my life I thought that I was just somewhat special with my looks, and all along I was a werewolf.

There was a new power that I had just discovered, and it was strong. That didn’t even scare me like it would to anyone else. In fact, it was an awakening for me. A discovery that I intended to use to my advantage. I wasn’t going to be the underdog anymore. I was going to keep the promise that I gave to myself before.

Now, I just had a better reason to do so.

Starting with the one person that made me feel small. When they should have made me feel strong and loved.

That night I came home to my uncle sitting his happy ass down in front of the TV again. Not even an ounce of worry for me or where I had been all damn day. I wasn’t surprised, and this just sealed his fate in my eyes.

I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to do this again, but it would be a great test run. Now that I felt my power coursing through my veins, I felt like I had finally found my purpose. Finally found something that I could use to my advantage. A way for me to not only get my revenge, but escape this terrible hell that I was born into.

Stepping in front of the television, I tilted my head and stared down at the filthy man in front of me. I could tell he hadn’t moved all day, especially from all the beer cans littering his feet. He was totally useless, and he had the gall to mock me. What a waste of breath.

“Get out of the way.”

“You even going to ask what happened to me today?”

He didn’t answer. Not that I expected any less from him.

“I’ve been in the hospital. My teacher supposedly called you. Don’t worry, one of the heroes gave me a ride home.”

“Okay, whatever. Just move.”

“No.”

I felt the familiar clench of my jaw, and the sound that escaped next wasn’t a sound that I expected to make.

Seeing him glance at me, his body starting to stiffen a bit was the best part of my entire day. My eyes were glowing red once again, and I took a small step forward. Even though I was still fairly small compared to him and wasn’t really a threat, this time I was no longer scared of upsetting him.

“Go on, girl. Go to bed and… get out of my sight,” Uncle mumbled.

“I said… no…”

“I’m not gonna tell you again--”

“You’re not the boss of me anymore. I’m not going to let you bully me ever again. You or anybody else!”

This was when he started to stand up from his seat, getting a little scared but also pissed. It was just the look I wanted to see from him.

“I’m getting real tired of your shit! You little brat!”

He went to grab me, but I ducked just in time. It was like my movements had gotten a bit more precise, but it was mainly just my hearing and senses. Plus, with him being drunk it was a lot easier to predict his movements. Which also makes him an easier target.

“That was a mistake,” I growled, more inhuman this time.

“You are the child! I am the adult! You do what I say!”

“Not anymore. You think just because you’re an adult you get to treat me this way. You and everyone else think that you have some kind of power over me. But not anymore. I make the rules. I decide who lives and who dies.”

That was when I felt my anger reach another breaking point. But this time, I promised to be awake for this. My body slowly shifted one at a time once again, and I could see the fear cross my uncle’s face. It was sweet and humorous. I’d never seen a man become so terrified, and I was almost beginning to pity him.

Almost.

“What the fuck!”

The growl that escaped my mouth next was pure animal. I’d never felt more alive in that moment in my entire life. I never felt more in control of my own destiny. No longer was I going to be the victim. I refused to let anyone walk all over me again.

There wouldn’t be any more tears or heartbreak. No more unwanted attention or fear. Instead, I would be the thing that everyone else fears. It will be my turn.

I had tasted power for the first time, and I was hungry for more.

[essiefreds]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18,  Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22

Word Count: 2505

Tagged: @hotemotionalmess, @hufflepeople, @justtolkienabout

Three days passed. As you’d expected, Director Fury was, well, furious with you. He’d almost immediately forbidden you from approaching Steve again, and you submitted more than willingly, not thinking you could face him again, even if you wanted to. 

To your surprise, and panic, they had not placed Steve under surveillance. When you demanded to know why, Fury merely said that it was impossible for anything to happen to him. You had no idea what he meant by that, and he said, crisply, “Think about it." 

Which you had, and after some contemplation, you determined that it was because of the serum he’d been injected with to become the super soldier. No doubt, it had granted him invulnerability of some kind. Not that that mattered, if Steve was considering hurting himself. Someone needed to check on him, make sure he was at least acting subdued, and not responding to what you’d done with rage or a depressive state. 

During the middle of the fourth day since your movie-terror-fiasco, Nick Fury arrived at your office, where you’d been hiding out since the event. He did not knock on the door, nor did he pause to greet you. His opening line was, "He wants to see you." 

You looked up. You’d attempted to focus on Stark’s file while you’d been under personal lock down, but had mostly failed out of worry for Steve. That did not mean you relieved to hear Nick Fury announce that Steve wanted to speak with you. 

"And you’re just going to let me see him, even though you dismissed me from my task?" 

"I’m reinstating you, since he explicitly stated that he wanted to speak with you,” Fury answered. He was not looking directly at you, which you were thankful for. “Might I suggest that you don’t do anything else insanely stupid?" 

"You don’t even need to suggest it, boss,” you sighed, and stood up to head upstairs. 

Fury accompanied you, although he did not speak on the way. Once you’d reached the appropriate floor, he disembarked the elevator with you, and walked with you to Steve’s apartment’s door. You glanced at him, almost tempted to ask why he was following, but it was clear; he wasn’t leaving you alone with the super solider, not even with the request from Steve to see you. 

The realization hurt. Quite a lot. 

Still, when Steve opened the door, he did not look pleased to see Fury standing outside it with you. “I asked for Y/N,” was his first sentence, and you looked at the director. 

His good eye was twitching, already. “I know,” he said, keeping his voice level, “but considering the circumstances -”

“What do you think she can do?” Steve asked, interrupting. You blinked. No one had to gall to interrupt Nicholas Fury, ever, and the last person whom you’d expect to do so was courteous Steven Rogers. “I would like to talk to her alone, please." 

Fury was pissed, and you were annoyed to sense that it was directed more at you than at Steve. You had no idea why Steve wanted to talk to you, and you definitely had no idea why he wanted to do so alone. Fury could be pissed at you for setting back the mission by three days, but he had no right to be pissed at you for Steve’s decision. 

Still, he backed down easier than you would have expected. "Fine,” he muttered, “but I’m not leaving the floor.”

“Then don’t,” Steve said, curtly, before he gestured for you to enter the apartment with a jerk of his head. 

You didn’t like the way he was acting at all. He was being… cold, and, even though you’d known him for a total of maybe 10 hours all together, at most, you’d never thought that cold was something Steve Rogers could be. At least, not without good reason. 

And you supposed he did have a good reason. 

You entered the apartment, and moved into the main space, although you did not sit down on the couch, like you would have in any other circumstance. Instead, you lingered near the counter in the kitchen, watching him carefully. 

He moved into the main space as well, after closing the door. He stood on the opposite side of the couch from you, and, for a long moment, there was only silence. 

Eventually, however, he spoke: “Peggy Carter was one of only two people I ever fell in love with. Yes, that movie we watched together made me think of her and I, and what could have been, but it also made me realize that, what I want, which is for us to be able to be together, is… nothing more than a fantasy, something that only happens in movies." 

"Captain Rogers -”

“No, just, I want to get this out,” he said, holding up a hand. You fell back into silence. He inhaled, slowly. “I just… watching that movie was a rude awakening, for me, and I’ve already had one more of those than I would have liked in my lifetime." 

You thought, maybe, that was meant to be a joke, but you did not laugh. Steve didn’t either. 

"There’s plenty of things from my past that I have to let go of,” he continued, “and I’ve decided that I’ve held onto them long enough.” He gestured, and you followed his arm’s movement. To your surprise, you saw that the outdated radio had been removed from the table next to the couch, and that the old-fashioned TV had been upgraded to something more modern, and bigger. 

He then looked at you. “Even though you kind of helped me realize all this in the worst way possible, you were the one to do it,” he said, “and… I’d like for you to be the one to help me with the rest." 

The thing inside of you that had been panicking for three whole days let out the loudest sigh of relief in the world. Your knees felt weak, and you placed a hand on the counter in order to help support yourself. You looked at him, never feeling more grateful for anything in your entire life. 

"I’m glad, because I want to be the one to help you with the rest, and I promise I won’t do something like that again.”

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards, and he nodded in agreement. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t." 

You managed a small chuckle, and then you said, "So… uh, let’s avoid movies from now on, unless… well." 

"What?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. 

You met his eyes, and smiled. “How do you feel about Disney movies?" 

"I really liked the one about the elephant,” he admitted after a moment, and your smile grew. 

“Oh, do you have a journey ahead of you." 

It was his turn to laugh, and your chest lightened even further. Thank God he was so forgiving. You didn’t know what you would have done if he’d asked you to come talk to him, just to let you know that he hated you and never wanted to speak to you again. 

Of course, you doubted that was part of Steve Rogers’s constitution. 

Many hours later, you’d watched all of the Disney animated films that had come out during Steve’s time period, and had moved on to the fifties. He said that he liked Lady and the Tramp, which wasn’t a surprise to you in the slightest. You had sort of been able to tell he was a dog person, as soon as you’d told him you had a cat. 

"You never named your cat?” he asked later, as you were eating dinner. You hadn’t expected him to want to do that, especially after all those movies, but he’d actually insisted that you stay. You knew that Director Fury had to be even more pissed. 

“They don’t really learn their names,” you explained. “I grew up with cats; our house was never cat-free, and although we gave them all names, they never… listened to them, so I just decided it was easier to call him ‘Cat’. Or 'Kitty’." 

Steve looked annoyed by this news. "How do you not name your pet?” he mumbled, more to himself than to you. 

“All right, I get it,” you said, focusing on your food again. Tonight it was roast beef, which was kind of the same thing as the chicken, just with carrots instead of green beans, and the gravy was dark brown rather than light. “I’m crazy, whatever.”

“Yes, you are,” Steve said, “and if I ever meet your cat, I am definitely naming it for you." 

"You want to meet my cat?” you asked, and he nodded. “Huh.”

“What?" 

"I just thought of you more as a dog person.”

“Oh, I am,” he said, grinning, “don’t get me wrong. But an animal’s an animal. Especially one that you can pet.”

Wow. You’d never thought someone’s love of soft pets could be so endearing, but here you were, smiling at Steve like an idiot. 

Thankfully, you caught yourself before he did, and you quickly turned your attention down to your food again. After a moment, you paused in cutting into your roast, and glanced up at him again. Something he’d said before had been poking at the back of your brain since he’d said it, and now you couldn’t help your curiosity any longer. 

“What is it?” he questioned, seeing your expression as he took a drink from his water glass. 

“Before, you said that you’ve fallen in love twice,” you said, slowly. His expression changed to one of barely contained distress. You tilted you head. “Was the other person James Barnes?" 

He exhaled a breath, turning his attention down to his food for a moment, probably as he thought of something to say. "It’s… it’s not good, is it?” he asked. 

“Well, opinions about that sort of thing have definitely changed since you took your ice nap,” you told him, “but there are some people who still aren’t… comfortable with it. I’m not one of those people." 

"At least I have that going for me,” Steve said, looking at you with a grateful expression. You shrugged back, and he blinked a few times. “Just… Bucky grew up in the orphanage with me, and even though I was always getting into fights that I shouldn’t have, he was there to help, every time. Even after we got out of the orphanage, he was there. And just… he was my best friend." 

This was, unfortunately, a topic that you could not sympathize with him on. You’d never fallen in love, hadn’t ever had the time to do so. Still, it was sweet, seeing him talk about someone that he had been in love with, seeing how much it affected him, even now. And you wished, desperately, that you could do something to heal the pain that he must be in, knowing that one of the people he’d loved was gone. Both of them were. 

At least, you thought so.

Something else to talk to Fury about, I think, you thought to yourself, poking at your food, no longer feeling very hungry. 

"What about you?" 

You glanced up, startled out of your reverie by Steve’s question. At first, you didn’t know what he was asking about, and then you realized he probably meant your love life. 

You forced a smile, and shook your head. He cocked his own. "No?”

“It’s uh, nonexistent, for lack of a better term,” you said. “I’ve never had the time to get involved with anyone serious, just a few odd dates here and there." 

"I see,” Steve said, “so in a way, you’re just as inexperienced in that area as I am." 

Your smile strengthened. "You’re actually probably more experienced than I am.”

“Well, I don’t know about myself, but you should definitely give it a chance,” Steve said, pointing at you with his fork. 

Your smile faded, and you returned your gaze to your plate. “Yeah, I think I’ll… not. Thanks, though. Too much to focus on already.”

“What, me?” Steve queried. 

“And something else that I think they’re going to force me on sooner or later,” you sighed, thinking of Tony Stark’s file, which still sat on your desk. 

“Oh, did they find someone else frozen in ice?”

You granted him a smirk at that. “No,” you said. “Just… a stubborn billionaire genius whose help SHIELD needs with something." 

"Ah,” Steve said. “I’ve dealt with geniuses before. They can go different ways.”

“Exactly,” you replied, and then you paused as you absorbed what it was he’d said. “What genius did you work with?”

“Well, the one who created the serum, Dr. Erskine, he was basically a genius,” Steve said, “and then there was Howard Stark.”

“Huh.” He looked at you, fork suspended in air. “You might need to give me some tips on how to handle a Stark.” At his blank expression, you waved your hand in the air. “SHIELD wants me to talk to Howard’s son, Tony.”

“Oh.” Steve frowned a bit. “Howard didn’t seem the type to settle down and have a family.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it surprised everyone,” you agreed. “He was one of the people who co-founded SHIELD, along with…” You trailed off, and gestured again. 

“Peggy?” Steve suggested, and you nodded. He actually looked a little proud to hear the news. “That doesn’t surprise me at all." 

"You knew her through the army, right?” you asked, to make sure you remembering what he’d told you that first day correctly.

“Yes,” he responded. “She was present when I was injected with the serum, and then… she was just always there, in some way or another. She was the last person I spoke to, before I piloted the plane into the ocean.”

All the more reason to find out what Fury knows about Agent Carter’s whereabouts, you decided. Surely, if Peggy Carter had died, it would have been a sad day for the entirety of SHIELD. You’d been working for SHIELD almost two years now. If Agent Carter had the same longevity of your grandparents, no doubt she could still be alive. 

You really needed to talk to Director Fury. 

As such, you left Steve as soon as you’d finished eating, promising you’d see him the next day, and hurried for Fury’s office. He’d long since left the hallway Steve’s apartment was down, and you were relieved to find him seated behind his desk, speaking to Deputy Director Maria Hill. 

“Director Fury, Deputy Director?” you spoke before stepping into the room, so as to not overhear anything, and they both looked at you. 

“What is it, Agent Y/LN?” Director Fury asked, still, apparently, annoyed with you. 

“I uh… I wanted to ask you about Margaret Carter,” you said, entering his office, holding your hands behind your back. 

The look on both of their faces as soon as you spoke her name was answer enough for you: Peggy Carter was still alive.

[kaispen]

dumped 12.9.2018

There’s something about the afternoon light at five o’clock. I couldn’t bear to coop up in the work area and cocoon myself into the constraints of work just yet.

There is a refreshing quality to savoring the five o’clock atmosphere, a promise of rest, an invitation to the excitement of twilight when day meets night, when it is not quite time to retire, but work is done.

I just got dumped yesterday.

But I have never felt better at this point. I don’t know if it is the light before dusk. All I know is, I got dumped and I am not in despair. Sad is too strong a word. Disappointed, maybe, but remotely so. Relieved, I believe, but displaced at the same time. Despite all these consolations, I still want to belong. But no, not to the man who dumped me.

I still want to belong, like I do to the light and hues of dusk, to someone who will see my worth even when I don’t. Not like the jerk who had the gall to break up with me and call me a sorry ass.

It greatly helped that I did not consider being in a relationship with him as ours was online. It was different in a way that we did disclose certain parts of our lives to each other, we sought each other out, believed there was something quite there for us, we exchanged I love you’s, shared plans, hopes. He actually inspired me at some points, made me want to be like him.

But then he also had quirks which were relationship red flags, such as his penchant for bawdy vernacular jokes – which would probably be fine for other women, but just the thought of them make me cringe. At one time, he wanted me to send sexy photos, just to fire him up while he was on tour of duty. I suppose I tolerated these and dismissed them as normal guy-stuff.

But what did it for me was when I told him that I wanted to tell our only common friend about his invitation letter that would bring me to the United States. He was against it – almost vehemently, over video call – “It’s too personal. Why do we have to tell her?” “Because she is our friend.” “No, it’s too personal.”

I let that pass, as that occurred at the time he sent the first draft of the invitation letter. I told him of my plans: that I was going to stay with him for about a week (AirBnB – “Not at the house?” I didn’t want to give his parents the wrong impression), and then transfer to the city to find a job. “If that will make you happy,” was his resigned reply. During this time, I told him that we had to tell our friend.

I was excited that things were falling into place for me – yes! A way out of my comfort zone! A new life, a relationship, a new adventure!

I saw him online at around 1 in the afternoon for me, 1 in the morning for him.

He was cranky.

So I told him, “Ok, bye. Good night.”

We didn’t speak for about twelve days.

Then two days ago, he messaged me. I was still simmering from him brush off. He said he was pissed because I was acting like his mom, asking him where he was when he was this grown man, working on call when all he wanted was to sleep. Apparently, he was waiting for me to message, that’s what he said. “This woman sure has pride,” he recounted saying to himself about me. “Of course I do,” I affirmed.

Just as we were warming up again, he said he’d been on a Christmas mission: jumping from the helicopter to depressed towns, bearing toys for children in the village. “Sounds very cool,” “Yes, because I love jumping. Didn’t you see my fb?”

“There’s nothing from you in my newsfeed.”

“What’s wrong? We’re in each other’s facebooks, so we should be connected.”

I looked at his timeline and all I could see were profile pictures. I brought this up with him, but he gave me vehemently vague explanations.

The only reason I could be blocked is that he blocked me, several steps into facebook settings.

I texted him that I felt bad being shut out from his facebook.

He said to quit my sorry ass for bringing the guilt on him.

I told him to take it back – calling me a sorry ass –

He said this is why relationships don’t work for him… that this wasn’t working and he wasn’t going to bother me anymore.

He “wished” me luck and a good life.

And that was that.

He did me a favor.

[tharroswrites]

Quiet Gratitude

Kacchako Week 2018 Day Two: Domiciliary

Read on AO3

This is definitely going to be a two-shot, maybe even a three-shot, and will definitely have a chapter for the prompt “Stars” and maybe one for the prompt “Unity.” We’ll see.

Bakugou Katsuki marched into her apartment like he owned the place.

Stepping out of his shoes and kicking them into the closet by the door, he didn’t spare Uraraka a glance—she, with her hand still on the knob and her mouth half-open in a question that got stuck in her throat.

He strode through the open kitchen to the left and into the living area beyond it, dumping his backpack on the small dining table behind the couch like he’d done it a hundred times before.

Only once he’d pulled the folder from inside the bag and spread the contents on the table did he turn to Uraraka, still at the door, to give her one of those looks that said ‘move your ass or I’ll move it for you.’

“What—”

“Villain,” he said, jabbing a calloused finger onto the papers before him. “Case file. Keep up.”

“Keep up?” she asked, finally closing the door and trailing after him. “I didn’t realize we’d started.”

He sighed heavily through his nose, like a bull before a matador, as if she were the one wasting his day off. As if she had been the one to show up at his apartment unannounced with only vague explanations and a bad attitude.

“My shitty partner didn’t want the case, so I told Ryukyu I’d do it by myself.”

A bold move, Uraraka thought, her eyebrows flicking upward. She’d been brought on as a sidekick at Ryukyu’s agency right after graduation, Bakugou several months later when no better offers were made. Even as his technical superior, Uraraka wouldn’t have the gall to just tell Ryukyu that she was going to do what she wanted. Then again, that was probably why Bakugou was always the one hogging the spotlight.

And yet.

“How does 'doing it by yourself’ bring you here?” she asked, the corner of her mouth twitching up just slightly because she already knew the answer. He would never say it in so many words, but he needed help.

As suspected, he shot her a look and didn’t bother with an answer.

“How did you even get my address?” She went to the tv and turned it off, resigning herself to an afternoon spent with Bakugou instead of the relaxing one she’d had planned. Grabbing her coffee, now cold, from the low table in front of the couch, she plopped down in a chair at the rarely used dining table instead and pulled one knee up to her chest.

“Asui.”

“Tsuyu,” Uraraka corrected automatically, and Bakugou 'tched.’

Pythagoras, her grey and orange tabby cat, dashed from the bedroom (where he’d taken refuge when Bakugou’s demanding knock had scared him out of a nap) and jumped into Uraraka’s lap.

Bakugou spared the cat a single, disgusted glance and said to Uraraka, “You would.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and scratched Pythagoras behind the ears.

“Anyway,” he half-growled, shifting some of the papers around until he found a sketch of a man, probably in his early thirties, with unkempt black hair and blue-grey eyes. “Recognize him?”

“No…”

He pulled out photos then, surveillance cameras from shops and ATMs mostly. They weren’t great quality, but in all of them, there was man who at least resembled the sketch.

“Each of these photos,” Bakugou said, laying them out in front of her one by one, “was taken the day before the League of Villains attacked these locations. Mostly petty crime, but this was where Toga’s gang attacked Suneater and Blitz on their regularly scheduled patrol.”

“So you think this guy is somehow setting up for the others to commit their crimes?” Uraraka asked, taking the last photo from the pile: a camera on the corner of a lesser city block that she recognized from the news—Suneater and Blitz had fought off Toga, Twice, and some other Leaguers that Uraraka wasn’t overly familiar with. They made it out, but by the time backup arrived, Toga and the others had gotten away.

Bakugou shook his head, and the annoyed grimace he gave her was the closest he ever really got to saying 'I don’t know.’

“Any ideas as to his Quirk?”

“Nothing,” Bakugou said, running a frustrated hand through his hair and finally sitting down.

He had no clue how out of place he looked, with his sleek athletic pants and tight-fitting, name brand, black tank top, among her hand-me-down furniture and next to her in her shorts and t-shirt that had been washed so many times it was nearly impossible to know what their original colors had been.

But the thought would never cross his mind—not when there were villains to hunt down, so Uraraka pulled her short hair into a ponytail and began rummaging through the sparse information he’d brought with him.

“Is there a map?” she asked after a moment. “You know, pinpointing the locations of these sightings?”

“Everything I’ve got is here, shit-wit,” he said, leaning back in the chair and rubbing his eyes. “I was up all night just getting this together.”

Uraraka held up a finger and hopped out of her seat. “I bet I’ve got a city map here somewhere…”

She went into the kitchen and began digging through the drawers where she kept letters, cards, old newspapers, magazines, anything paper that she didn’t want to recycle. And sure enough, under a stack of holiday cards from Yaomomo (she sent cards for every occasion), Uraraka found a bent and slightly faded map of the city that she’d bought when she moved into her first apartment after getting into U.A. In another drawer, she found a black marker and brought both items back to Bakugou.

“All right,” she said, stacking up the pictures in order to make room for the map, which she unfolded and spread across the table. Bakugou sat up straight as she did so, but it was then she noticed the bags under his eyes, the tired set of his mouth. Even his hair didn’t seem as spiky as usual. “Want some coffee?”

“No. I’m not tired.”

Uraraka returned to the kitchen and began to heat water, popping her own cold coffee in the microwave as she did so. The counter was all that divided the kitchen from the living room, and Bakugou gave her a sour look over it.

She’d seen him do this before—work himself until he dropped. He was so desperate to move up from sidekick to hero to number one that he often forgot to take care of himself. This time, at least, he’d asked for help (as much as Bakugou Katsuki could ask another person for anything) and she thought it might be the least she could do to keep him from collapsing.

But she also knew that Bakugou would never accept someone helping him purely for the sake of it or—gods forbid—because they thought he needed it, so she returned his glare as she scooped instant coffee powder into an All Might mug.

“You came here, remember?” she said, adding a bit more edge to her voice than she would’ve with anyone else. “We’ve got a villain to track and I’m not going to have you holding me back. So drink the dang coffee or leave.”

She had one hand on her hip and the other stirring the hot water into the cup, and Bakugou, for once, couldn’t out-glare her, so he sighed and clicked his tongue, but made no further protest.

He did give her a skeptical look when he saw the grinning face of their former teacher on his mug, but before he could comment, there was a knock at the door. Pythagoras jumped into Bakugou’s lap only to be shoved back to the floor, and Uraraka ignored them both as she went to see who else could possibly be at her apartment.

“Oh! Mrs. Takahashi!” she exclaimed upon opening the door to her squat, middle-aged neighbor. The woman was kind and big-hearted, and often invited Uraraka over for dinner when she knew the young hero was short on money.

“Kaiya, dear,” she said, as she did every time Uraraka addressed her by her family name. “I heard raised voices and I wanted to make sure everything was—oh. Oh my.”

Uraraka felt her face make the jump straight to fire engine red as Mrs. Takahashi peered around her and spotted Bakugou sitting at the dining table.

Before she could even begin to explain, the older woman was clapping her hands and grinning like Christmas came early.

“I didn’t realize you had a guest! And such a handsome one!”

“It’s not like—”

“I hope you’re not planning on giving him that instant coffee you always buy!” she hissed, though the effect was lost as she was still loud enough for Bakugou to hear. “Where did you meet such a man? Is he a hero, too?”

Mrs. Takahashi was working herself into a world of her own design and all Uraraka could do was stand there and wonder if Bakugou would explode her head if she asked him to. She might not need him, honestly, with as hot as her face was getting—her brain could be oozing out of her ears from the heat.

“Um—”

“I’ll go make some snacks for the two of you, okay?” Her eyes were bright as she peeked around Uraraka, who was trying to take up as much of the doorframe as possible, to get another look at her 'guest.’ “I’ll be back, Ochako, dear.”

“You don’t have to—” But Mrs. Takahashi was already half-skipping back to her own door and Uraraka pressed her palm over her eyes and sighed. “Thanks…I think.”

Uraraka turned around and shut the door, her face still hot and glowing as she looked at Bakugou, who was draining his coffee in gulps and, she thought, pretending that he hadn’t heard anything. He set the mug back on the table and looked into it with a frown.

“That tasted like shit.”

“You get used to it.”

He gave her a look and she sank back into the chair beside him, content to go along with his supposed moment of deafness.

“Okay, not really,” she admitted, exasperated because she was so flustered. “But it’s cheap!”

Something seemed to dawn on him then, and he gave her apartment a sweeping, analytic glance that he hadn’t bothered with at first. It wasn’t in the best part of town, and certainly not as nice or spacious as his apartment (which she’d been to once when Kirishima came up with an ill-conceived plan to throw Bakugou a surprise birthday party). The windows were open and the fans on, even though summer still clung to the late September air and she should probably have the air conditioning running.

And for once, Uraraka was glad that Bakugou didn’t really care about other people because he didn’t comment on any of it, just grabbed some of the photos and tossed her the marker.

“The first sighting I could find was in July, near the 37 block downtown,” he said, holding up the picture while she found the spot on the map. She circled it and wrote the date from the timestamp. “And the next was near Ryukyu’s offices. That ATM outside that shitty ice cream place, you know, the one with—”

“Pickle-flavored frozen yogurt?” Uraraka finished, her nose wrinkling in disgust.

“Yeah.”

“I know the place. Hado loves it.”

“The fuck?”

“I know,” Uraraka said, laughing a bit. She and Hado were partners, and there had been many times when the older girl wanted to stop in that shop for a treat after work. “She loves everything though, so I guess it isn’t saying much.”

Bakugou snorted and picked up the next picture. “This is some street camera I couldn’t get an actual location on. But in the background there, doesn’t that look like—”

“Heights Alliance.”

“From the back, yeah.”

“The closest shopping district to U.A. is about half a kilometer south of campus. Which, judging by the orientation of the building…” Uraraka paused, using her fingers to test angles on the map. “Would put that camera somewhere between here,” she drew a small dot on the first street of the shopping district. “And here.” She put another dot several streets down and connected them with a circle.

She looked at Bakugou and was surprised to see something like relief flitting across his face, but he worked his features back into a scowl when he noticed her looking and 'tched.’

“I like geometry,” she said, fighting a smile because that was probably one of the reasons he came to her in the first place. “Shut up.”

They were almost done marking the map with Mrs. Takahashi knocked on the door again. And Uraraka sighed and threw Bakugou an apologetic glance that he ignored as he took the marker from her.

She’d barely turned the knob when the older woman pushed through the door, grinning widely and heading into the kitchen with tray of tea and sandwiches.

“So are you going to introduce me?” Mrs. Takahashi whisper-shouted.

Uraraka brought her hands up in front of her face and waved them back and forth. “That’s really not a good idea—”

“Nonsense, sweetie, I’m sure he’s wonderful!” She put a hand beside her mouth, as if that would somehow prevent Bakugou from hearing any of it. “I mean look at him! And if you’re comfortable dressing like…well like that around him, it seems pretty locked down to me!”

For the second time that day, Uraraka was stunned into standing in place with her mouth hanging open, and Mrs. Takahashi walked right up to Bakugou like he wasn’t a fire breathing rage monster and introduced herself.

“Call me Kaiya,” she said, grinning ear to ear and close enough to Bakugou that Uraraka genuinely feared for the woman’s safety.

So Uraraka thought she’d actually managed to melt her own brain from embarrassment when Bakugou simply said, “Katsuki. Thanks for the food.”

Mrs. Takahashi squealed like Aoyama on costume upgrade day at U.A. and practically danced out of Uraraka’s apartment.

Uraraka stood in the kitchen and stared at Bakugou like he’d grown an extra head. A polite, reasonable extra head.

“Chill, you fucking weirdo,” he said in a 180 turn back to normal. “I figured that would be the fastest way to make her leave.”

Uraraka blinked. He wasn’t wrong.

“What, you think I can’t be fucking polite?”

“Well, that statement is pretty good proof—”

Bakugou pushed himself up from the table and came to stand beside her. He plucked a sandwich from the tray and studied it as he said, “I choose not to bother with stupid shit like that because it’s usually a waste of everyone’s time. Things would be better if people just said what they wanted and got it over with.”

“But in this situation it was to your benefit to be nice.”

“Yeah.”

“Why do you want to be a hero?” The words came out before she really had a chance to think about them, but since she was probably going to implode from embarrassment at any moment, she might as well go out with a bang. “I mean…do you want to save people? Or do you just want to be the best at something quantifiable?”

Bakugou popped the sandwich in his mouth and grabbed the whole tray to bring back to the table with him. “That falls under 'small talk,’ and 'small talk’ falls under 'politeness.’ And we’ve still got work to do.”

Uraraka really didn’t consider a question like that to be small talk, but she was thankful enough that he hadn’t completely offended her favorite neighbor that she didn’t push the issue.

When they finished marking the map, they both sat back and stared at it for a moment.

“Er…” Uraraka began, blinking a few times in the hope that maybe she was missing some crucial pattern. “Does this…mean anything?”

“Other than that this guy is fucking erratic? I don’t think so.” He looked as perplexed as she felt, though he was clearly trying no to show it as he dragged the map further toward him and hunched over it, his usual uncharacteristically good posture forgotten in his frustration.

“Okay, new approach then,” said Uraraka. She took a sandwich from the tray and spoke through a mouthful of bread. “A lot of these instances occurred near pro heroes offices—or U.A.—so what about the ones that didn’t? Is there something that connects those to heroes somehow?”

The new train of thought energized him a bit and flipped through the photos again, dividing them into two piles.

“We know this one fell on Suneater and Blitz’s patrol route,” he said, taking the top image from the smaller stack and adding it to the larger. “And the first responder to this attack was Mt. Lady, who was at a hair appointment in the salon on this street.”

Uraraka jotted notes on the backs of the photos as he talked.

When he finished, they had a pro hero for each attack, and Uraraka sat back in her chair and let out a breath.

“So it’s possible that our suspect is confirming that heroes will be on the scene before the attacks happen, but why?”

“And whose side is he really on?” Bakugou asked. “Because he could be confirming that heroes are there so that people don’t get hurt, or he could be planning on taking heroes down or—”

“Or showing incompetence in the pros,” Uraraka said quietly. An image of Stain flashed across her vision and she met Bakugou’s eye. He’d never really talked to any of them about what happened when he’d been captured by the League of Villains in their first year, but every once in a while he’d mention something about how some of them were trying to mimic the hero killer. “Maybe…maybe they’re trying to create civil unrest by showing that even with pro heroes, villains still end up doing whatever they want most of the time. We can’t be everywhere, and even when we are there—”

“The villains still get away.”

“Yeah.”

“That doesn’t explain what our suspect’s Quirk is or why he’s always the one there.”

“Well maybe we just need to catch him in action.”

Bakugou raised an eyebrow. “The odds of that happening are utter shit. They could attack a lot more people while we play stake out.”

“Maybe not,” Uraraka said, tapping a finger to her chin in a gesture she’d undoubtedly picked up from Tsuyu. “Look at the names and the dates.”

Bakugou did so, his eyes widening in realization. “He’s working his way up through the hero ranks.”

“Mhm. Mt. Lady was the most recent, and she’s what? Eleven?”

“Ten.”

“So Ryukyu’s coming up soon. I bet she’d give us her schedule if we asked.”

“And then what? Stalk her?”

Uraraka wanted to mention that all of this was his idea in the first place, but he hadn’t come to her for whining or excuses.

“Well, yeah. I’ve got a long range scope Hatsume made me after that thing with the tree. It’s worth a shot.”

“Fine. We start tomorrow.”

—

Bakugou was sulking in the lobby when Uraraka and Hado returned from their patrol.

“Ryukyu said she’d assign a higher level sidekick to watch out for the suspect,” Bakugou said by way of greeting, standing and steering Uraraka back toward the door with a hand on her arm. “She gave me access to the video footage from the cameras that save that kind of data, so we need to go through it and—”

“Stop for a second,” Uraraka said, planting her feet and resisting his pull. He did stop, and let go of her arm with an annoyed look on his face. “I’ve got to, you know, write my report and shower and change and get my stuff.”

She gestured back into the building and Bakugou’s eye twitched. The bags beneath them were darker than the day before, and Uraraka wondered how late he’d stayed up after he left her apartment. But of course, to ask would make it look like she was worried about him, and he wouldn’t stand for such things.

“Cool it with the Rage Aura,” she teased instead, an old joke that mostly served to irritate him further. “Give me an hour.”

“Forty-five minutes.”

“An hour. Where do you want to meet?”

“I was going to go back to your place. There’s a shit ton of construction next to my building and it’s irritating as fuck.”

“Then I’ll meet you there in a hour,” Uraraka told him, wondering when exactly he’d become so comfortable inviting himself over.

“Fine. Give me your key.”

“What? Why?”

“So I can go ahead and get started, shit-wit.”

Uraraka sighed, knowing that this compromise would at least appease him to some extent, so she pulled her apartment key from the small pocket in her boot and handed it to him.

“It um…it gets a little jammed,” she said, feeling awkward again at the quality of her living situation. “It helps if you bend it a bit to the right.”

“Yeah yeah, get going already. I can figure it out.”

Uraraka turned and began making her way back to her desk, but another thought had her whipping around to face him again with a hand on her hip. “And be nice to Pythagoras!”

“To who?”

“My cat.”

“You’re a fucking weirdo, Uraraka.” This, though, he said without much bite as he turned on his heel and left the building.

—

Uraraka almost had a heart attack as she walked down the hall to her apartment and a hand flew out of the neighboring unit and dragged her inside.

“Mrs. Takahashi,” Uraraka gasped, putting a hand on her chest as she stared at the small, grinning woman. “What are you doing?”

“He’s got a key.”

“Huh?”

“Your Katsuki. You gave him a key to your apartment!”

“My…what?” Uraraka’s brain felt like it was swimming through mud. The words 'your’ and 'Katsuki’ were not words that made sense together in the way Mrs. Takahashi said them.

But the older woman was, once again, on a different planet and completely ignoring Uraraka’s confusion. “Dare I ask if you’ve set a date for the wedding?”

Uraraka’s whole body turned red, like she’d been dunked in a vat of boiling water, and her tongue was thick and heavy as she tried to form the right words, but all that came out was a weak sort of “Wahh?”

“Too soon? I know kids these days are a bit more…open. Lots of young couples are moving in together before getting married, so no judgment from me, dear!”

“But…I don't—”

“Just so long as you’re safe, hun. As cute as you are, we don’t need any little Ochakos running around just yet.”

There was definitely steam coming out of Uraraka’s ears at that point, but fortunately, her phone started ringing in her bag. She fumbled with it, hands shaking a bit, and when she did finally flip it open, it was to none other than the man of the hour.

“Oy, you’re late!”

Uraraka glanced at her watch, her tongue unsticking itself so she could argue with him. “By one minute! Keep your hair on.”

She hung up over whatever he was going to say next and turned back to Mrs. Takahashi, who was, if possible, grinning even wider.

“Can’t wait to see you, can he?”

“Something like that,” said Uraraka, groaning internally at the fact that she was, at some point, going to have to explain all this and likely break the older woman’s heart. So, for the moment, she just shoved her phone back in her bag and said, “I should get back.”

“Have fun!”

Something like that, Uraraka repeated to herself.

When she walked into her apartment, she almost laughed.

Bakugou was sitting on the couch, a takeout container in one hand, a pen in the other, with a video going on the tv and another on his laptop on the coffee table. He scratched notes in a notebook with the same manic intensity as Deku while his chopsticks hung half-forgotten from his teeth and his wide-rimmed black glasses (which Uraraka had seen him in a grand total of two times) slipped down his nose. Pythagoras lounged across the back of the couch behind him, as blissfully oblivious as Mrs. Takahashi to the Rage Aura.

“Yours is in the fridge,” he said, again forgoing any expected form of greeting as his eyes flitted from one screen to the other to his notebook and back again.

Uraraka dropped her bag on the counter and noticed a new appliance, fresh out of the box, sitting next to her thrift shop toaster.

“Bakugou… Did you buy me a coffee maker?” she asked, annoyed that he thought she needed it, but also a bit amused. “Instant coffee isn’t that bad.”

“I had a spare,” he grunted, still not bothering to look her way. “My bat-shit crazy mom couldn’t decide on a brand so she bought me two. And yes. It is.”

She rolled her eyes, but smiled a bit because the King of Explo-kills cared about the quality of his coffee.

Not that he actually went by that name, but she liked to use it in her own mind because he was such a giant dork and he’d always tried so hard to hide it.

She grabbed her matching takeout container from the fridge and settled down onto the couch beside him, kicking herself a bit for making an effort to change into her nicer leggings and tank top this time—he was wearing a pair of baggy sweatpants and an old black skull t-shirt that she remembered from high school, one that was nearly coming apart at the seams with age.

“This one,” he began, unconcerned with everything but the task at hand as he gestured to the video on his laptop. “Is that street behind U.A. And that one’s the big bank ATM downtown.”

“So we’re just waiting for him to show up and see if he uses his Quirk?” Uraraka asked, popping open the cardboard container and digging in. How Bakugou knew to get her chicken udon with no mushrooms and extra broccoli was beyond her, but she didn’t press the issue as she tucked her feet beneath her and focused on the screens.

There were several hundred hours of video footage across the different cameras, and they quickly discovered that their suspect showed up at the scene more than once prior to the attacks, meaning they had to actually dig through each one for every sighting.

It was going on three in the morning when Uraraka, bleary-eyed and frustrated because they’ve barely made a dent, decided to call it a night. She kicked out a grumbling Bakugou and made him leave everything with her so that he could actually get some sleep for once (because, she told him, he was useless to her if he was exhausted). He protested, but eventually did as she said, and Uraraka fell into bed dreading that she had to be up in four hours, but also glad that she had something other than boring patrols to dedicate her time to.

—

They fell into a routine—Uraraka provided the place, Bakugou provided the food, and neither acknowledged the fact that the other was helping. To say something would break the balance, undo the dynamic, and Uraraka, for her part, was content to let it be.

They didn’t talk much, just spent hours and hours and hours together on the couch sorting through mostly useless footage, occasionally stopping to laugh at a weird person using the ATM or an awkward interaction on some unimportant street.

And Mrs. Takahashi continued to imply, and Uraraka continued to ignore.

—

It was a week into their research and they were still empty-handed. Uraraka was so tired, but unwilling to admit defeat another night in a row, so she pushed herself just a bit longer, sipping on her instant coffee (she refused to use Bakugou’s coffee maker on principle—it was his, he was just keeping it at her apartment) and blinking away the blur in her eyes.

Then, a weight slumped against her shoulder and she froze.

Bakugou had fallen asleep.

On her.

Bakugou had always been an in-your-face type of person, but in-your-space was a different matter altogether. He outrighted flinched when people touched him half the time, so this…

This was new.

If it weren’t for the bags beneath his eyes she would’ve woken him, but he’d been burning both ends of the candle for so long that this was probably his body’s way of finally telling him enough. And she couldn’t argue with that.

But still. The fact that he’d allowed this—given in to weakness, he would say—surprised her. Was he really so comfortable around her that it didn’t bother him? When had she crossed that invisible hurtle between bothersome acquaintance and…friend?

She would never say it aloud, but she was touched.

Wide awake with her thoughts spinning like a merry-go-round set to hyperdrive, Uraraka shifted, just slightly, pulling the laptop and notebook closer to her side of the table and continuing to work as Bakugou snored lightly against her shoulder.

The next morning, she awoke on the couch, having at some point been lulled to sleep by Bakugou’s even breathing. She sat up and blinked at the light filtering through the window.

Bakugou was gone, but there was a fresh pot of coffee waiting for her in the kitchen.

Uraraka smiled, because it felt a little like a gift and a little like a thank you.

And it all felt a whole lot like trust.

[PART TWO]

[iamthechocobabe]

Hiii! Can i request an imagine with Prompto? Considering his origins he probably would't be able to have kids, or so he thought until, ten years later his captive, his s/o tells him she is pregnant. However his old insecurities and knowing he should tecnically be sterile lead Prompto to think his lover cheated on him with Ignis, whom his s/o has grown close in the years. Happy endings but a little angst in the middle :) thank you!

I honestly love this so much. If I wasn’t over the word count so much already, I would include Ignis more in it, but I like to think that it’s not half bad. Hopefully anon will agree! I also tried to keep the gender of the baby neutral since I wanted the reader to imagine the gender as the gender they would someday want if or when they had kids. 

Tagging the senpais: @roses-and-oceans @bespectacled-girl (I know you don’t want kids but indulge me) @gladiolus-mamacitia @itshaejinju 

Please Believe MePromptoXReaderSFWWord Count: 4,116

“I’m…a Lucian" 

That face, the face that has haunted Prompto’s nights for a little over ten years. That same fucking face that was always more daemonish than it was in the memory, the face that appeared in the dream with screaming children behind him that were bred and forced into being daemonish machines like livestock as they all reached out to Prompto, begging him with their eyes to kill them. Even Prompto, with his pretty knowledgeable skills with a gun, wouldn’t be able to give all of those children in his dreams the mercy they so much deserved, as there was always so many of them. But the man, the face with the horrifically stinky breath that made Prompto’s insides rot whenever it reached Prompto’s icy cold cheeks, the face that was a monster and daemon in every sense of the word…

That monster who was supposedly his father…

Always there, in his dreams, to tell him his worst fears. 

"You’re nothing but a failure," 

Prompto stares into the mean eyes of a man so devoid of life, of humanity that Prompto feels his own soul being sucked away-but despite it all, he manages his next sentence as he always does in his dream…his nightmare. "I-I’m not one of your experiments," 

"You’re nothing but a clone-you can never possibly have a normal life," 

It wasn’t true-he was normal, Prompto could recognize that he was dreaming because memories of his recent life, ten years after being trapped in Niflheim were coming back to him in a wave of a wonderful and happy life that he desperately clinged to, even in his dreams. 

Falling in love with you. "She could never love you," Asking you to marry him. "You could never make her happy," The tears that flowed from your eyes and the smile you gave him when you said yes. "She will leave," Those same exact tears and smile when you told him you were pregnant."You cannot be her husband. You cannot be a father," 

Father…night upon night of this same exact dream and this bastard never questioned Prompto’s ability to be a father until now. The gall of this man, the man who had bred and passed his own ‘children’ around like a litter of puppies, all for his twisted and demeaning experiments. This man, questioning his ability to be a father. 

"I am a better father than you could ever be,” The words muttered are so dark and shaky from anger that even Prompto doesn’t recognize his own voice. 

“You are a clone,” 

“Shut up,” Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, Prompto told himself, tried to convince himself that it was time to wake up. 

“You are worthless," 

"Shut. UP,” He knew he was dreaming-all he had to do was…wake up. 

“Failure," 

"SHUT UP,” He was screaming, but he didn’t care-Prompto looked up and opened his eyes to face the man who was one of the most evil men Prompto had ever met, save short for Ardyn Izunia…

But Verstael Besithia was gone-and in his place stood Prompto’s best friend, the person who Prompto thought could never ever betray him and didn’t have a bitter bone in his body. The person who grew closer and closer to you, the love of Prompto’s life, every single day, the person who Prompto began to dread seeing every day more and more. 

Ignis Scientia, who whispered one word that made Prompto’s heart practically stop. 

“Infertile,”

Prompto’s eyes popped open and he involuntarily shot up in bed, out of breath and looking wildly around the room. When he discovered he was back in the small two bedroom house you two had bought together, back in the bedroom with the curtains you had picked out and all of Prompto’s candid, selfies and glossy photo collages plastered in various spots on the wall, he knew the dream had ended. It was done, it was just a dream…

Prompto hears you mumble in your sleep, opening your eyes blearily to stare at your husband of four years with a sleepy smile that Prompto loved more and more every time he saw it. Your voice was deep and raspy with sleep, showing that you were barely awake, but you still managed to ask your husband if he was alright, if he needed you. 

And Prompto, knowing he could never, ever voice his concerns to you, just smiled softly and whispered words of reassurance. “Just a nightmare, babe. Go ahead and go back to sleep," 

"You sure?" 

"Yeah," 

"Wake me up if you need me,” Was your sleepy response before slipping back into the realms of unconciousness, relieved that you didn’t have to wake up for a few more hours and too tired to wonder why Prompto’s eyebrows were dipped downwards with worry. And when your breathing had returned to relaxed with a deep sigh to show that you were once again asleep, Prompto’s eyes traveled down to your swollen belly, so swollen that you looked ready to pop anyday now. And he remembers those horrific words from his dream that he’s had every night since you announced your pregnancy. 

“Infertile,”

“So, the doctor says the baby moved so it’s feet first and it’s head is upward, so we think that weird lump on the top of my stomach is just the baby’s elbow or arm," 

"Well, that is a relief-I told you it was nothing serious, but you insisted on worrying”

“Yes, yes, once again you never fail to point out how right you are,” You joke once again as you continue to fold laundry with your cellphone balanced against your ear to better hear Ignis’ refined accent through the speaker. Prompto stood off to the side, making both of you lunch as he had been given paternity leave from the Citadel since you were due any day now. Ignis, of course, had to call in and check with you two every few days to make sure you were doing alright and that Prompto was handling his responsibilities as a new father. 

And Ignis talked about that, but you two mostly spent the time talking and joking with each other about various things. The baby, that crazy hunt you two had gone on shortly after you and Prompto got married, how angry Prompto was when he heard that Ignis had let you go…you and Ignis had practically become inseparable ever since that hunt and the man was usually over to your guy’s house every other night for dinner. 

While being with Prompto was wonderful and you loved your husband to absolute death and beyond, you had to admit that it was just nice to have a friend other than Iris-Iris was sweet, but she could be a bit of a handful at times and it was nice to have someone calm and rational like Ignis to talk and comfort you when you were worried about the health of the baby. Whenever you expressed worry to Prompto, he would start panicking as well and insist on taking you to the hospital, but Ignis was far more rational, subdued and actually quite knowledgeable in health and pregnancy tips, usually spending his time calming you down. 

“And you insist on not knowing the gender?” For the fiftieth time ever since you announced your pregnancy, Ignis asked the question. You catch Prompto looking at you out of the corner of your eye with a strange look, like he was wary about something, but when you quirked an eyebrow at him he just shook his head and mouthed 'never mind’ before going back to making lunch. 

For the fiftieth time, you told him. “Yeah, Prompto and I want it to be a surprise," 

"Of course-how is the father to be anyway?" 

"Nervous, I think…he’s been very quiet for the past few months,” You glance over your shoulder at your husband, expecting him to be looking at you since his name was brought up and you had said the last bit rather loudly to hope and get him to start talking again, but he just continued to cook while zoned out in his own world. 

“Tell him I said hello," 

You place the folded lingerie that had you blushing slightly as for what its initial purpose was (hint, hint, something to do with the baby) and turn back to Prompto with one hand on the phone and the other resting on your swollen belly. "Ignis says hi," 

Sizzling water from the bowling pot on the stove is the only sound you hear from Prompto, the blonde man still staring with a dazed look out the window that sat over your sink that had a picture of you two on your first wedding anniversary sitting on the window sill. "Prompto?” You repeat yourself, but Prompto still just stares out the window, his gaze slowly moving over to the picture, one of your favorites. 

Waddling over to him, you gently pat Promtpo’s arm to get his attention while trying to fight your worry for him. “Prompto," 

Blinking, Prompto looks at you in shock as if he had forgotten you were in the room with him and coughs a little. "What?" 

"Ignis says hi…” You pause to wait for Prompto’s response, but his eyes just fall back to your first anniversary photo-why did he look so sad when he stared at that photo? “Are you okay?" 

Cobalt blue eyes still stared off into the distance but Prompto forced a fake smile at you. "Yeah, I’m fine-tell him I said hi back," 

"Okay,” You give him an odd look while saying it slowly and make a mental note to talk to him about it after hanging up with Ignis-something was obviously bothering your husband. “He says hi, too," 

"Great-I have to go, but is it still alright for me to come for dinner tonight?" 

"You know it’s fine-who else would we rely on to cook our dinner?” You giggle but out of the corner of your eye, you notice that Prompto is gripping onto the counter tightly, his jaw tightening as well. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” You hang up the phone and look back at your husband with a quirked eyebrow. “So, that was Ignis…" 

"I know,” Prompto practically snarls the word, causing you to be taken back by his sudden harsh tone over a seemingly innocent statement. 

“What’s going on with you?” You demanded, placing your phone on the counter and trying to get him to face you. 

Prompto swats your hand away and stares at you with a fear and sadness in his eyes, a fear you hadn’t seen since Noctis had come back from the crystal and the news he heard when his best friend was gone. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut like he’s trying hard not to think of something, he just barks “Nothing,” before shoving past you and heading out of the house. 

“Prompto?” You call his name, but he’s already slammed the door shut by the time you finish.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. 

The whole time you had been on the phone with Ignis, Prompto had argued with himself that he was being irrational, that his fears weren’t justified and that you would never betray him. And then his eyes would fall to your stomach and he would hear the words from his dream again. 

Infertile. 

He was a clone-he wasn’t supposed to live a long life and he wasn’t supposed to have children, based on all of the notes from Verstael Besithia. The thought of your child not being his had never crossed his mind until he saw how close you and Ignis were one night and he remembered a document he had seen while in the Niflheim facility that gave information about clones life expectancy and how they were made sterile in the process due to a faulty enzyme. Now, it was every single day when his brain would scream that the child wasn’t his…and it wasn’t long until his brain began to argue that it was Ignis’ child. 

Ignis wouldn’t do that to you-she wouldn’t do that to you. 

But the thoughts were still there and it seemed even after walking around for three hours with no real aim of where he was going, those thoughts weren’t going to leave. So, he figured he might as well head back to the house; he would probably just apologize to you, saying he was just nervous about being a father and insist that he was alright. 

You probably wouldn’t believe him, but-but he just couldn’t face it. He couldn’t face the idea that the child growing in your tummy wasn’t his and if he confessed his fears to you, he would have to face an inevitable truth. Besides, it didn’t really matter…he knew. He knew-you would probably deny it, but he knew it was impossible for him to have children. 

He knew that Ignis was the father of your child. 

And there was nothing he could ever do about it. 

Walking up to the front porch light, Prompto blinked the tears away from his eyes and forced a smile on his face. Part of him wanted to scream at you, wanted to get you to just admit it already so he could get on with his life. Fear was always there to stop him, though, so he walked in with his false promises of assurance on his tongue…

And saw you with your head on Ignis’ shoulder.

“Prompto,” Sniffling after having a tear filled conversation about why Prompto was so angry at you with Ignis, you stood up to face him. “We were just-" 

"Stop it,” The sharp tone Prompto had was gone-it was instead replaced with a tone that just seemed sad. Defeated. Like he couldn’t fight something anymore, though you didn’t know what he was fighting. 

“Prompto, what’s-” You try to talk but Prompto, with his cellphone gripped tightly in his hand, chucks it at the far side of the wall with a strength many people didn’t know he had that shattered the phone into large bits of plastic and a cracked screen. 

“Stop it,” Tears are falling freely down Prompto’s cheeks and it breaks your heart to see it and you start to approach your husband to give him a hug to be stopped by Ignis with a hand on your shoulder. Seeing the action Ignis made just seemed to break Prompto’s heart even further and he gritted his teeth. “Just stop it already…I’m done. Just admit it," 

You’re not sure how your face looks, but you’re pretty positive you look confused and worried because that’s what your body is being overcome with. Shaking your head, you blink confusedly at Prompto and tilt your head a little as if to show him how confused you were. "Admit what? What are you-" 

"The kid’s not mine," 

For the past few months, there had been a million reasons why Prompto was so quiet around you. Maybe he was nervous, maybe he was worried for your well being…a million reasons…

But you lying about who the father of the baby is was never one of them. 

Prompto didn’t need validation, he didn’t need to know the truth. Your color drained face and shocked expression said it all-he couldn’t see Ignis’ expression behind his glasses, but Prompto could see that his so called 'best friend’ was grim. It was so obvious…how could he have been so stupid? He hadn’t planned on confronting you or Ignis, but when Prompto saw how comfortable you two were, the words were out of his mouth before he realized it. 

And now the thought of staying anywhere near you two made him want to vomit. "I’m going to stay at Gladio’s," 

"Prom, it’s not-" 

"Prompto!" 

Prompto ignored both you and Ignis’ desperate pleas and stalked out of the house with tears practically blinding him-he would have walked into the road and in front of an incoming car had he not heard the far off honking of said car just as his foot reached the pavement. Luckily he stopped himself and made himself find the sidewalk before walking down it, feeling so unbelievably betrayed…his best friend. And his wife. And they were going to lead him to believe for Gods knew how long that the kid was Prompto’s. 

So stupid. Why was he so stupid? 

"Prompto, WAIT!" 

Your desperate scream that echoed off your neighbors houses and rippled through the night made Prompto stop and turn around to see you, an eight month pregnant woman who was due for labor any day now, running at full speed towards him with eyes wide and one hand on your stomach to try and balance yourself as you ran. 

Prompto was betrayed, he was hurt beyond belief, but apparently he couldn’t stop any love he felt towards you because he immediately raced to you to get you to stop running. "Don’t run, are you crazy?" 

"You-you-” You stop and bend over for a second, breathing harshly and trying to catch your breath. Prompto forced breath into his lungs, knowing that this was where you would tell him that you hadn’t wanted him to find out this way, that you still loved him or cared for him as a friend, blah blah blah. 

Far off, Prompto could see Ignis standing by hesitantly with his arms folded as you still tried to catch your breath, clearly itching to race to his new love and Prompto had the urge to go and strangle his former friend. Ignis was handsome and could get any girl in the world and he chose you. Prompto’s wife. 

Bastard. 

“You-you-” You were still trying hard to catch your breath and Prompto winced a little at how desperate you were. 

“Don’t say anything-it’s not-" 

"You. are. the father. of my. CHILD!!!!” You finally managed to tear your scream out at him and Prompto stood in shock…you were still denying it. He knew it was impossible for him to be the father of your baby, yet you still denied it. 

It was time for a wake up call. 

Saying your name harshly, Prompto practically spits his words at you from anger as he uses his hands to make gestures towards himself to prove a point. “I’m a clone. I’m sterile-I’m infertile. I can’t. have. children. So why don’t you just come off of it already?" 

"You-” You glance up at Prompto, the color still drained from your face and tears forming and he felt hope that you would finally tell the truth. Apparently not, though, as Prompto listened to your desperate pleas again. “That’s-that’s impossible, Prompto," 

"Just admit the father is Ignis!” Prompto screamed, ignoring the lights from the neighbor’s houses turning on and seeing curtains being pulled back to observe the commotion. 

“But it’s NOT!” You screamed at him, still hunched over and coughing harshly from running far too hard for someone who was as pregnant as you. Prompto told himself not to fall for your tears, but your face was genuine and your tears seemed legit as you continued to scream at him. “The father is you! IT’S YOU! I’ve never had sex with anyone BUT you since we started dating, so it’s NOT. POSSIBLE!!!" 

"I’m infertile! How many times do I have to say it before you finally get it? I know the truth. I know, okay?” Shaking his head, Prompto finally turned and walked away with the idea of Gladio’s apartment in his mind but your anguished scream made him turn around. 

When he saw you on your knees and clutching your stomach, Prompto couldn’t help it no matter how angry or betrayed he felt-he tore himself over to you and cradled your shoulders gently as you continued to sob uncontrollably, muttering words that Prompto couldn’t understand because you were crying so hard. He tried to calm you down, but felt his eyes widen when he saw the dark patch of damp clothing that appeared on your maternity pants. 

“I’ve summoned an ambulance,” If Prompto wasn’t so worried about you, he would have told Ignis to piss off, but you gripped onto Prompto’s cheeks and made him make eye contact with you. 

Your eyes were wide with fear and were tinged with red swelling, but you kept talking, trying something-anything-to convince him that this baby was his. “It’s you-the father is you. I would never do that to you, I would never hurt you like that. Neither would Ignis…please, Prompto, I can’t do this without you," 

"But I’m-” Prompto tried to argue, but your grips on his cheeks tightened as you continued to sob. 

“I love you, Prompto Argentum. I love you so fucking much, please believe me. I would never lie to you about this, this baby is yours. You’re going to be a father-I want to do this with you, I want to be a mother to your baby. Please, I’m begging you, please-" 

Prompto shakes his head and finally tries to soothe you, telling you that you were overworking yourself and that you should stop panicking, but you shake your head vehemently, the sobbing making your contractions even worse as you gripped onto Prompto’s shoulders and held onto him for dear life. "I love you-I’m having a baby with you," 

Looking into your eyes, Prompto couldn’t see any doubt, any lies in your tear filled orbs as you continued to beg…but Prompto’s thoughts went back to those stupid documents, those documents that he wished he’d never seen. 

"I was so nervous when I told you I was pregnant,” You confessed, hoping and praying he would see that you were telling the truth. “I was so nervous that you didn’t want to be a father, that you weren’t ready. But you were so happy, so thrilled and I couldn’t not be enthusiastic as well. I don’t know what I did to make you doubt that you were the father of the baby, but you are. You’re the father," 

"Alright-” Prompto tries to soothe you, but the ambulance’s sharp sirens cover his words as it pulls up. The next few minutes are a blur and before you know it, you’re loaded onto a stretcher and are being whisked away into an ambulance. 

Prompto had never felt so torn in his life…logic told him that it wasn’t possible that the baby was yours, but you seemed so sure. You were positive that Prompto was the father-so either you were determined to keep up the ruse or-

Feeling a sharp whack on the back of his head, Prompto looked in shock and a little in anger at Ignis, who stood there looking angry at Prompto as well-well, at his cheek, really since he couldn’t see where Prompto’s eyes were. 

“You are the father, you imbecile,” Ignis spat, the anger in his tone evident by his milky eyes and his furious stance. “Are you so dense that you don’t know your own wife?" 

As if to clarify how much you loved and needed him, Prompto heard you scream his name from inside the ambulance and desperately ask the ambulance techs inside the cab where your husband was. 

"If the father is out here, we need to go!” The driver of the ambulance started to get into the car and called out for the father-for Prompto-was Prompto the father? Was it possible? 

“Prompto!” Prompto’s heart broke the second he heard your desperate voice and pleading for him as he felt his resistance to be by your side break away piece by piece. “I’m-I’m scared-I don’t want to be alone, Prom, please-" 

Any resistance he felt was now shattered and Prompto practically shoved the poor techs aside so he could scramble into the ambulance to be by your side.

Small gentle cooing woke you up to see yourself in a much more comfortable room in the hospital than what you were originally in when you finally gave birth. Following the sound, you saw the baby’s father and the person you felt you loved more and more each and every day cooing at the small bundle in his arms as the baby continued to stare up in wonder at their father. 

Prompto looked up and saw you staring and he smiled at you brightly. "They have your hair," 

"They have your eyes,” you repeat what you had said when the baby had first been born and Prompto had seemed too nervous to hold the baby. When you had scooted over to give Prompto room to sit on the hospital bed with you, he seemed to be more comfortable in holding the baby then. 

“You’re the father,” you repeat again, looking for any sort of doubt or resentment in Prompto’s eyes. 

There was none as Prompto just smiled at you. “I know,”

[proseandsongs]

@kelofmindelan thanks for the prompt! Also this dang thing passed 1,000 words ten effs ago, so I’m sorry....

Despite Mabel’s insistence that there was no need to worry, the hands tied behind his back made Dipper believe that there was, in fact, dire need to worry.

“Pirates,” he muttered as he raised his eyes skyward. “Why did it have to be pirates?”

The pirates didn’t hear him. The two that flanked him and Mabel, a lanky man with dark curls and a stocky woman with an eye patch, were speaking over their heads in rapid Portuguese, if his ears didn’t deceive him. Another three pirates were inspecting their spoils with sour expressions. Apparently archaeology guides, loose parchment, charcoal, and the two small pistols that had been confiscated from them weren’t what the pirates had expected to find.

“They were flying under the Queen’s flags,” the youngest of the three, a brown haired man in a green shirt, said with puzzlement.

An older woman with a peg leg nodded. “There should be more loot than this!”

“Maybe they’re hiding it?” wondered a younger woman with close-cropped black hair.

At this, all three pirates turned in unison to give he and Mabel the once over. Pleased to have the attention of someone who would understand her better than the two Portuguese guards, Mabel piped up.

“Hello! I’m Mabel, and this is my brother Dipper,” she began with a smile. “I’m sure this thing is a whole misunderstanding that we’re going to laugh and laugh about. Now, just untie us, and we can sort this out!”

The three pirates exchanges looks, then turned their backs on her, seeming to decide that she and Dipper weren’t clever enough to hide anything valuable. The first pirate picked up a notebook and flipped through its blank pages with a grimace, then suggested, “Maybe this is a decoy ship to keep us away from summat valuable.”

He tossed the book carelessly onto the deck and Dipper squawked.

“Hey! Be careful with that!” Dipper protested hoarsely. His throat still hurt from where a pirate had closed his hand around it.

The woman with the peg leg turned a suspicious eye on him, and he added feebly, “It’s my...diary. Sentimental value.”

He couldn’t let it slip that those were his field guides, encoded and written in invisible ink. One couldn’t be too careful. He also couldn’t reveal what he and Mabel were after: an ancient treasure that the Queen had sent them on mission to locate. Once they found it, they were to return with coordinates and then the Queen would send a larger fleet to collect the treasure. They were merely scouts, thus the small crew that accompanied their vessel. Dipper snuck a look over his shoulder and saw that the crew were also bound and kneeling.

The Queen, a cold and commandeering ruler, had promised he and Mabel wealth, but that wasn’t their reason for going. Mabel craved the adventure; she was the muscle and the heart of the operation. Dipper? He was the brains, but it wasn’t merely the challenge of a good mystery that persuaded him. The Queen had also promised them titles, which he believed was the only thing standing between him and the fiery haired Lady Wendoline who had captured his heart. As a lord, he would be eligible to court her.

“Looks like a bunch of rubbish to me,” the woman with the cropped hair said with a sneer. “What’s the Queen sending you two out here for? This shit is worthless!”

Dipper met Mabel’s gaze and they came to a silent agreement: keep their mouths shut as long as possible.

“Not talking, eh?” the youngest pirate demanded as he stepped up to Dipper and raised a hand. “We’ll see if we can’t change that!”

Dipper braced himself for a strike that never came. There was a commotion from the other pirates, and the crack of a gunshot. The man craned his neck to see where the shot had come from, then lowered his hand as he turned back to Dipper.

“Here comes the Captain,” the young man said with a blackened smile as he stepped back. “You’re in for it now.”

Dipper squinted against the sunlight to see the Captain as he descended from the upper deck. His burgundy dress coat looked like it had been stolen from a dignitary and his large black hat was topped with a long white plume. His blonde locks fell around his shoulders, and as he neared, it became clear the Captain wasn’t a he at all.

It was a young woman only a few years older than he and Mabel.

“You’re the Captain?” he asked in a wheeze.

He doubled over with a grunt when the butt of a rifle was jabbed into his gut.

“Respect the Captain!” a voice bellowed in his ear.

His stomach rolled over on itself and Dipper felt he would vomit, but after a few shuddering breaths he was able to sit up again. He addressed the Captain. “My apologies, your...Captainliness, but I just meant that you’re so…”

Beautiful? His brain provided quite unhelpfully.

“...young,” he said weakly.

Her cool blue eyes swept from his upturned face to Mabel, then flicked back with a startled look. The Captain frowned and looked away, asking the woman with the eyepatch, “Who are these two?”

“We found ‘em in a secret chamber below deck, trying to burn these,” the woman explained as he stepped forward and handed the Captain Dipper and Mabel’s stack of papers.

She riffled through them, her expression clouded with uncertainty at the blank pages. The Captain was still as she deliberated; then, with a quick jerk she tore a page from the notebook. Dipper bit back a scream, but Mabel let out a strangled sound.

She raised the page to the bright sunlight, and the faint invisible ink appeared through the page.

“Interesting,” the Captain hummed, as if she had read a bit of news. She lowered the page and rounded on Dipper and Mabel, her eyes flashing with intrigue. She examined Mabel for a beat, then turned her gaze on Dipper and let it stay there. Her mouth curled in a smirk as she strode toward him, the heels of her soft leather boots clunking on the deck. She only stopped when she towered over him, blotting out the sun completely. Dipper swallowed his fear.

This close up, he could see clearly her features: a pointed chin, a pert nose, and skin that was far too fair and smooth to belong to a seafaring pirate. There was something familiar in the pull of her mouth, and Dipper pursed his lips as he tried to put his finger on it.

“What,” she began, as she crouched down until she was nearly eye level with him, “is so valuable in these notes that you have to code them?”

This close up, Dipper started to shake. He didn’t know why, but there was something deeply troubling about the Captain. As he tried to figure out what, he tried to buy time.

“You do know you’ve hijacked the Queen’s ship?” Dipper said with only a faint wobble. “This is a crime against the Crown, and if you do not release us and our crew at once, there will be serious...consequences.”

There was a burst of laughter from the pirate crew and he felt his face heat up with embarrassment. He didn’t know how to threaten someone, not when he was tied up on the deck of an armed pirate ship. This wasn’t taught in university!

The Captain snorted in quiet laughter, but otherwise didn’t react to his statement. She waved the pages in front of his face and said, “You didn’t answer my question.”

His eyes flicked to Mabel and he saw his sister give her head a shake. Reminded of their agreement, Dipper returned only stony silence.

After a few seconds the Captain’s attention flitted back to Mabel and she straightened up. She prowled toward her. Mabel kept her chin lowered and Dipper could see from the corner of his eye that she was concentrating on loosening the ropes that bound her wrists behind her back. She stiffened  when the Captain’s shadow fell over her, although her wrists continued to twist discretely.

“What business do you have with the Queen?”

The Captain reached out a hand, and Dipper moved as if to stop her, but he was pulled back by the hair by his bodyguard. The woman’s hand cupped Mabel’s chin and she lifted it gingerly, her head angled to one side. A grin spread over her face and she said, “Come on, Mabel. Do tell me what my dear mother is up to.”

Dipper’s heart did a full stop in his chest. Mother? Her mother was the Queen. That meant she was…

“Pacifica?” Dipper croaked out.

The Captain looked amused. “Mason, was it? It’s been a long time. I remember you two running around the grounds when you were just children.”

The memories came flooding back of a beautiful young princess, four or five years his senior at the time, who had a taste for mischief. He remembered her twinkling eyes, the way she used to grin at every opposition like it was a dare that she intended to take. It had been years - more than a decade.

“But you’re - you’re dead,” Dipper said in a rush, “you were kidnapped by pi….”

He went quiet as he realized where he was.

Captain Pacifica laughed. “Kidnapped by pirates? That is the official story, is it? They were the ones who saved me from being drowned on the boat that meant to send me into exile.” She quirked her mouth and said, “My mother did well for herself: I heard my father took a sudden spell about ten years ago and never recovered. He died bedbound in, what, ‘57?

“And me,” she pretended to swoon from the scandal, “I was kidnapped by pirates at the age of 15. That was the royal report, wasn’t it?”

She smiled with closed lips and it looked more menacing than a sneer. “Well, you can’t always believe the royals. They have the means and the gall to change the story however they like. Me? I was saved from a ship doomed to sink after being sent away by the Queen Mother herself to Persia, for a lifelong exile. The crew rescued me and took me in; gave me a home.”

Dipper’s head reeled. Pacifica was alive, just as beautiful and terrifying as ever.

Mabel finally recovered from her surprise and asked, “Why would your mother send you away? She has no heirs, and no prospects. She’s not...you know, a spring chicken.”

Mabel said this with such delicacy that Dipper had to resist the urge to laugh. Pacifica, however, let her laughter ring out.

“True, but that’s because she could never rule with me around. Even if she had gotten rid of my father first, the crown would have fallen to me.”

Dipper was stunned by the admission, but the pieces started to fall into place. The sudden disappearance and supposed death of the Princess. The King’s illness that followed soon after. The Queen’s renewed interest in the procedures of the Kingdom, followed by a growing number of public appearances and addresses. The increasing power she wielded over the military and the navy…

He turned to Mabel and she looked just as conflicted. Pacifica’s story made sense, but it spoke of dangerous treason no matter which side of the story they believed. Her hands continued to move back and forth in her bonds. She wasn’t planning to go down without a fight.

“Now, if my mother is sending a small crew with two of the brightest from her court,” Pacifica drawled, “it means that there’s something very valuable she wants to get her hands on. And if I know my mother, it’s something shiny.”

Her eyes darted to Dipper’s face, and he held his breath, trying not to give anything away. Not until he was untied and on more even negotiating ground.

He put on a false smile and said, “The Queen has always been a generous patron of exploration. This is just another voyage to expand the Kingdom’s knowledge of our neighbours.”

Pacifica didn’t believe him, but she didn’t have to. All she had to do was keep looking at him for another minute.

“Mason, you and I both know that my mother has never been generous unless it is to her benefit,” Pacifica said as she took a few steps closer to him. She brushed a hand over his head, and he felt a shiver go down his spine. Pacifica must have felt it, because she smiled and lowered her voice. “Tell me what she’s looking for, and I can offer you safe passage.”

Dipper’s eyes flit to the side to gage Mabel’s progress. He licked his dry lips.

“You make a great offer...”

At that moment, Mabel slipped out of her rope. She popped up and knocked back the bodyguard behind her with an elbow to the face. Before there was more than a cry of protest, she scooped up the cutlass he dropped and placed the blade at Pacifica’s throat. Her hand stilled on his head.

As the crew drew its weapons, Mabel barked at her, “Call them off!”

Pacifica slowly raised a hand and made a sign. Despite grumbles of protest, there was a clatter as swords, pistols, and daggers hit the deck.

In the uncertain stillness that followed, Dipper settled back on his rear and struggled for a few seconds to bring his bound hands underneath him, until they were in front again. He slipped a concealed knife from his boot and stood at a leisurely pace.

“A truly great offer, but I think I’d like to negotiate under better conditions. Maybe over a drink?”

Without waiting for her reply, Dipper sliced through the rope that bound his hands like they were made of thread and freed himself.

Pacifica glared at him, but he didn’t sense hatred; just annoyance that he had gotten the better of her. Mabel walked behind Pacifica and held her arm fast as Dipper gestured to the door that led to the lower decks.

“After you, Captain.”

[spinnerprincess]

so i’m catching up on doctor who, after ditching the show at the end of s7 because i just couldn’t stand moffat’s bullshit anymore

i return to it with no less patience for his bullshit, but caring less makes me less angry about it, which is nice

and so, here is my doctor who series 8 review. 

rating: 💜💜💜🖤🖤

I like clara and I like capaldi’s doctor and I hate most of the writing

the last four episodes are marginally better and just barely managed to drag the rating up to 3/5 instead of 2/5

here are some episode reviews if you care or if you just like hearing me complain (it is mostly complaining so don’t bother reading if that’s going to bother you) (no seriously don’t)

they are minorly spoilery but mostly just vague

episode 1: deep breath 

rating: 💜💜🖤🖤🖤 

the restaurant scene was the best part and the only scene really worth a shoutout. well built up to, suspense was grand. everything else was bland or confusing.

capaldi’s a fun doctor. clara is a good companion. the veil scene with clara and vastra was okay. the boyfriend thing was a little tiring since that whole gimmick always seems to have been based off moffat’s perception of all women finding the doctor attractive on some level, but sure. 

jenny and vastra continue to be delightful half the time and treated as if power imbalance in a relationship is a mere quirk and not serious concern the other half of the time (bonus points for this treatment in a wlw relationship). strax’s quirks have long worn thin. 

i already hate how “crazy” missy is. took two seconds. nice. 

episode 2: into the dalek

rating: 💜💜💜🖤🖤

very entertaining premise. execution was acceptable. the twist at the ending does a good job of setting up for the doctor’s personal struggle of the season. however, I find that personal struggle very boring. lots of creativity was put into the structure of the dalek, very fun. 

cold open was very confusing. 

also already getting the impression that this series is going to gloss over the very real problems veterans have. when will people learn you can want to improve life for veterans while condemning the battles that forged them. 

might recommend.

episode 3: robot of sherwood

rating: 💜💜🖤🖤🖤

clara looked fantastic in that dress. the doctor’s pissing contest with robin hood was hilarious. the arrow shooting at the end was adorable.

entertaining, boppy. no real negatives, but no real positives either. kind of a snoozefest.

episode 4: listen

rating: 💜🖤🖤🖤🖤

an episode that might otherwise have been a promising 2/5 or maybe even 3/5 receives 1/5 for the last few minutes alone. 

as usual, moffat likes to break rules like “we can’t go to gallifrey’s history anymore it’s timelocked” on a whim, and by on a whim, I mean, because if he goes to gallifrey’s distant past, he can make it so his characters are somehow the most important people of all time, because they teach the doctor important life-long lessons, isn’t clara amazing, wow, the companion who knows the doctor the most, the one who told him not to fear monsters under the bed. 

it’s the smuggest bullshit i’ve ever seen and i’m so fucking done with this man’s insistence on his characters being the most important to the doctor. he consistently shows no respect to the companions and people that have come before his and it’s infinitely frustrating.

also the entire premise was apparently “the doctor is afraid of the dark” which is just an exhausting reveal for all the drama it puts us through to get there. especially since all the elements of horror are 100% recycled moffat bullshit: corner of your eye (cracks in time), monster under the bed (girl in the fireplace), don’t look at it (blink in reverse), like... so, so painfully rehashed

the date with danny itself was kind of cute but clara’s interactions with orson and rupert pink were awkward at best.

skip it. save yourself

episode 5: time heist

rating: 💜💜💜🖤🖤

honestly with personal bias this one should be a 4/5, but again, that’s personal bias. I mean, come on. space bank heist. what’s not to love. i’m a sucker for a good ocean’s eleven.

good scary moments, good puzzles, interesting characters, fun times.

the architect reveal was obvious but it was a funny reveal the way they did it so who cares. the reason for the heist was a little cliche too but still very good. nothing outstanding, but good job.

would recommend. 

episode 6: the caretaker

rating: 💜💜🖤🖤🖤

I liked courtney. good kid.

the doctor was very in character and vain with the whole adrian thing but there was imo a slightly racist undertone of him presuming clara’s boyfriend was adrian, who looks like matt smith, over danny, a black dude, that made the whole thing kind of uncomfortable. 

the fact that disdain for pe teachers is never questioned was annoying too. even if i personally think so, it’s really irritating to see math elevated as somehow better than pe, inherently.

i spent most of this episode mildly annoyed. i do like clara though.

episode 7: kill the moon

rating: 💜💜🖤🖤🖤

an otherwise enjoyable episode, this one is brought down by the fact that all the main players towards the end are women, and as usual with moffat’s era, the doctor never seems to respect or listen to them when it really counts. 

this used to be a show I loved because the doctor picked up ordinary women and showed them extraordinary things, and more importantly, showed them that they could be extraordinary too. now it’s a show about extraordinary women trying to live ordinary lives while a man shows them extraordinary things but insists on treating them like mundane, ordinary beings. 

I really hope chibnall doesn’t continue this trend.

i suspect we’re meant to empathize with clara at the end, but disagree with her, but like honestly, tell him the fuck off clara. I mean, he won’t learn from it, because moffat’s doctor never does, but tell him the fuck off anyway.

episode 8: mummy on the orient express

rating: 💜💜💜🖤🖤

pretty good. brought down, as usual, by the doctor’s personal struggle of the season, but pretty good. 

great build-up, good suspense, fun mystery. good atmosphere. unsatisfying to have no answers about the perpetrator. zero memorable characters, which is the biggest reason it rang dull, imo. 

clara wears the flapper look extremely well. it’s pretty sad when clara’s outfit is a highlight of an episode, though.

might recommend.

episode 9: flatline

rating: 💜💜💜💜🖤

I enjoyed an episode of doctor who!!!!!! will wonders never cease!!

the only bad part of this episode was the last minute or two where they touched upon the doctor’s "am I a good man” pity festival and gave us another glimpse at missy. 

everything else: fantastic. moral struggles! intense and frightening scenes! fascinating new ideas! neat special effects! the most thrilling new doctor who enemy I’ve seen in ages! clara being absolutely outstanding - moreover, finding out that she is outstanding! fantastic solution at the end! memorable characters who I rooted for!

that was a thrill from start to finish and the first time all season I’ve really, actually, truly remembered why I used to love the show. 

would recommend for sure!!

episode 10: in the forest of the night

rating: 💜💜💜🖤🖤

pretty touching, and actually hit most of the emotional beats it was aiming for! that surprised me.

loved the concept behind the trees. appreciated maebh’s story for the most part. cute to have the kids from the school interacting with the doctor.

still not sure what the point of danny is? I like him and he and clara have their sweet moments but it’s hard not to feel like every writer writes him differently, and like him saying “I don’t care what the truth is I just don’t want to be lied to” rings false because every time she has told him the truth it’s been a problem.

also: so exhausted by the idea that danny, as clara’s boyfriend, has any say over how clara’s allowed to spend her time, or who she chooses to spend it with. 

that’s not danny’s fault I don’t think he’s intended to be read as controlling I think the writers are misogynistic little shits.

episode 11: dark water

rating: 💜💜💜🖤🖤

I went into this one preparing to loathe it and as it turns out I was mostly wrong!

this would have been 4/5, except that only since missy’s a girl they have the gall to make her relationship with the doctor tread on explicitly romantic territory? uh-huh. seriously that kiss scene was awful and moffat’s “surprise kisses where one participant is extremely uncomfortable” strikes again. 

let the doctor kiss men, you fucking cowards.

but... masterful plan, pardon the bad joke. saw the twist when they went into the elevator, of course, and internally screamed. can’t believe I recognized the stinger, but I did. very well done, very well set up, very emotional. 

seriously if it weren’t for the fact that missy and her “romance” and her “craziness” represents everything I fucking despise about doctor who’s recent treatment of women, I’d say this was a damn good episode. what a shame.

episode 12: death in heaven 

rating: 💜💜💜🖤🖤

it was good but a large part of the reason I feel so good after watching it is just the fact that I probably won’t have to deal with so much irritating “blah blah soldiers suck” drivel and the whole “am I a good man?” pity fest from the doctor if I watch s9.

another large good part is the shoutout at the end to lethbridge-stewart, that was sorely needed tbh. about time. 

missy was well acted, but I’m still so fed up with the boring het treatment of it all. hey quick questions: why would time lords give a fuck about gender roles or gender orientation as more than weird, antiquated quirks? for that matter why do they even acknowledge the existence of a gender binary half the time? i’ll never know.

good choices include the plot and its resolution. laughing forever at doctor who’s insistence on upgrading their villains to make them somehow scarier all the time, but at least they had a plot reason for it too. also, clara’s bit about feeling special. that’s something I’ve thought was missing from doctor who for a long time, and to see it in a form I can almost believe was a breath of fresh air.

boring choices include setting up as if this episode is going to be all about clara being a total badass, only for it to last all of three seconds. which isn’t to say that clara wasn’t or isn’t a badass so much as, “boy do I love watching an episode where she spends nearly all of it upset and having no lines though.” hint: I do not.

mediocre choices include the characters chosen to be killed off. not like I expected better, of course. please, if you’re listening, let bill come out of her adventures with the doctor alright. people who don’t fit in moffat’s box of tricks so rarely do. 

i’ll watch the christmas special some other time. i sense another bad one coming on. 

s8 sucked but I liked some parts of it! wonder how s9 is.

[aokagaisball-and-ballislife]

As promised, pizza delivery guy Aomine meets hungry tiger who isnt getting his ordered meat. I may do a second part. Depends if you all like it. Enjoy!

The pizza was perfect. The crust was just the crispiness that Kagami loved and the cheese was golden and baked to perfection. He even had both his dipping sauces he had ordered this time, which was a small miracle. Gently closing the lid, Kagami placed both hands on his kitchen counter and hung his head. The pizza was supposed to have meat on it. It was supposed to have meat and veggies piled high with glorious greasy goodness. He was also supposed to have a drink. Both the meat, and drink, were absent. Again.

“He’s terrible. Seriously. Why the hell does he have a job?!”

Kagami of course knew why. It was very clever of the pizza joint. They had a gorgeous delivery guy. He was tall, dark, and so very sexy with his lazy smirk and deep drawl. Kagami could only imagine the amount of business they were pulling in with that guy as the face of it. But gorgeous or not, Kagami was done. He had gone through having no dips, no drinks, and no meat long enough.

Grabbing his phone he called the number on the box, quickly telling the innocent part timer on the other end the issue. He was of course handed to the manager, the quivering creature dealing with him not wanting to deal with his angry voice. He felt sort of bad, maybe guilty almost for being upset and causing a problem, but this was the tenth time! He knew, he’d counted. Enough was enough.

“We are truly sorry about the mistakes Kagami-san, and we will absolutely send Aomine back out with the correct pizza this time.”

Kagami sighed and rubbed his forehead, “And the drink please.”

“Yes! Of course. The drink as well. Thank you for your continued patronage!”

Hanging up, Kagami grabbed a slice of cheese pizza and bit into it. It’s not that he didn’t like cheese; he just had paid for meat. He had finished the entire pizza, his anger gone now that his stomach was a bit fuller, when he heard the buzzer echo through his apartment. He pressed the button to allow his pizza up and walking slowly to the door. He was sure this Aomine guy wasn’t going to be happy.

As soon as he saw the gorgeous face screwed up in a scowl, Kagami knew he was in for an earful.

“Hey. What the hell man?”

“What?”

Aomine pointedly tapped the new pizza box in his hand as he stared at Kagami, “You complained on me. I’ve never gotten a complaint before.”

“Are you serious?!”

Kagami’s eyes were wide, disbelief written over his face. No way was Aomine only a bad delivery guy to just him.

“Of course I am. Everyone I deliver to loves me,” Dark blue eyes slid over Kagami’s form before he glared, “Except you it seems.”

Kagami could feel his temper rising, “You do realize I’m a customer right? You really suck at talking to customers just as much as you suck at delivering the right stuff.”

“I told you. You’re the only one that complained,” Aomine’s voice was almost bored now, the lazy look tipping Kagami over the edge.

“How the fuck is that possible?!”

At his anger, Aomine gave him a sinful smirk. It was a small change of his lips, one side quirking up more than the other. Kagami felt the look all the way down to his toes, his stomach flipping as his anger fizzled out.

“I see. You do that and they forget you’re a dumbass then.”

Aomine actually had the gall to laugh, head thrown back, mouth open as perfect laughter filled the hallway. Kagami hated how much he enjoyed the sight. He hated how much he enjoyed Aomine’s laughter, and voice in general. He hated himself for knowing no matter how much Aomine sucked, he wasn’t going to stop ordering the pizza and certainly wasn’t going to stop hoping Aomine would be the one to bring it to him.

Obviously Aomine was aware of this information as he eyed Kagami again, his time his eyes slowly moving up his frame, taking in Kagami completely. Kagami felt his ears get red as those blue eyes finally reached his face, Aomine playfully biting the tip of his tongue as he grinned.

“Sorry about the mistakes then. I’ll try to get it right next time,” Aomine handed over the pizza and turned to saunter away.

Kagami refused to stare at his ass as he went. Or he refused to admit he did at least.

“What makes you think I’ll be ordering again?”

Aomine looked back at him with a knowing look and a wink, “Just a guess. Night night.”

With a heavy sigh of defeat, Kagami took the pizza to his kitchen, his mouth watering at the sight of all the meat. He looked around the box before he realized something.

“He forgot my drink!!!”