#and doesn’t know what to say his nervousness finally emerged on the surface too

[gojoest]

satoru is all smiles and giggles during your first date and you think that guy never gets worried or nervous ever until he hugs you goodbye in front of your doorstep and you can feel his heart beating so fast and with such intensity it feels like it’s punching a hole through you

[madsworld15]

New Fic Alert! you’re still the one that i love (Brian/Justin)

This one is a twofer. It serves as an addition to the QaF Prompt Challenge 2024 AND as another story in my Diabetes Chronicles series.

Prompt is: Follow-up to popular story you’ve already written. (Prompt #10) [7/21 for me personally]

Justin was writing lesson plans on his laptop as Gus and Isaac playfully yelled at each other and tried to thwart the other from winning at whatever video game they were currently engaging in. As he glanced up and watched the two teens in amusement, he realized that when this whole journey began, he was Gus and Isaac’s age. It was one of those things that he wanted to turn to Brian and comment on; only his partner was out for the evening.

Justin had told Gus that his dad was working late, but Justin knew it was Brian’s monthly rendezvous with one of his rotations of sexual partners. It had been the stipulation in their commitment to each other when Brian had finally moved to New York. He was more than happy to build a life with Justin and come home to him every night. But Brian pointed out that giving him free rein to spend an evening with a “stranger” would make their relationship stronger. Justin, knowing Brian’s aversion to being too settled, agreed. The only stipulation Justin put on that was he needed to know which person Brian was with and that it wasn’t every week.

So, over the last twelve years, Brian had kept a rotation of about 5 or so guys that he enjoyed enough to have sex with every so often. He ran his list by Justin, who never argued with any of them because it wasn’t about controlling Brian’s behavior, just that Justin wasn’t being kept out of important decisions such as this. Justin especially wanted to know for diabetic emergency purposes.

“Jus.” Gus’ voice was suddenly next to Justin, making him realize he had zoned out for a bit.

“What’s up?” Justin looked Gus up and down, trying to assess if something was wrong with him.

“When is Dad getting home?” Gus looked over his shoulder toward Isaac. There was a nervous nature to Gus’ demeanor that set Justin on edge.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Justin was suddenly on high alert. “Is there something wrong with Isaac?”

“No, he was just asking. Wondering why Dad works late a couple of times a month. Says that he thinks it's weird that he doesn’t work late more often, like his dad does.” Gus shrugged but still glanced over his shoulder nervously. Then he leaned forward and whispered something else directly into Justin’s ear.

“I know that he’s seeing some guy for sex.”

Justin almost choked on his spit at Gus’ confession. He looked at the 17-year-old and wondered how much of what he and Brian were trying to keep from Gus was actually still being figured out.

“How?” Justin scrunched his eyes in confusion just as his phone chirped three times with alarm.

He pulled it out and saw that Brian’s blood sugar had dropped drastically in the last five minutes. Gus looked down and then looked back at Justin, their gazes meeting in mutual worry.

“He’s fine. Your dad knows how to handle himself and his diabetes.” Justin brushed off Gus’ concern with a forced smile and a reassuring shoulder squeeze.

“What if he doesn’t?” Gus’ voice came out a bit squeaky.

“Then, we will handle it.” Justin stood up, closed his laptop, and squeezed Gus’ shoulder again for good measure. “How about some food?”

Gus nodded enthusiastically, “Could we have bagel bites?”

Justin laughed, “Sure, just don’t tell your Dad I gave them to you. He finds them offensive.”

“He says they aren’t real food.” Gus shrugged and gave Justin his signature boyish charm-filled smile.

As Justin was moving about the kitchen, creating a snack for the teens, his phone rang. It was from an unknown number. He almost didn’t answer, but then Brian’s numbers from a few minutes ago floated toward the surface of his brain.

“Hello?” Justin asked, nervous for the worst.

“Mr. Taylor?” A woman responded. Her voice was warm and comforting without even trying.

“Yes, I am Mr. Taylor.” Justin was still unsure what this call was about, exactly.

“Your partner, Mr. Kinney, was brought into the ER a little bit ago. He’d passed out and couldn’t be revived. As his medical proxy, we need you to be here to make decisions for him.”

“Ma’am, he has Type 1 Diabetes, and his numbers dropped recently, very low. He was with a friend, though, who probably didn’t know what to do.” Justin explained, already throwing on his jacket.

He got Gus’ attention without saying a word. The two teens immediately jumped up and shoved their feet into their shoes.

“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll be there shortly.” Just replied to the woman on the phone before he hung up.

Turning to Gus and Isaac, Justin remarked, rubbing his hand through his hair. “Your Dad is at the ER. Apparently he passed out.”

Gus nodded solemnly. He pulled out his phone and pressed some icons. Then he looked up.

“A car will be here to pick us up in 5 minutes.” Gus held up his phone and shook it to show Justin he’d arranged transportation.

“Oh. Thank you.” Justin was all out of sorts. It wasn’t often that Brian’s diabetes put him in the hospital. In fact, he hadn’t been in the hospital since his kidney transplant 12 years ago.

“Dad gave me his account login to be sure I’d always have a way home. No questions asked.” Gus shrugged.

To most people that sounded like a parent providing for their child, but Justin knew it went deeper than that. It allowed Brian to give Gus the freedom that he’d earned without losing any form of control. Brian liked being able to provide for those he loved, but Gus was at a rebellious teen phase and hated any forward attempts at love, care, and help.

About twenty minutes later the trio were rushing into the ER waiting area. Gus nudged Justin toward the admittance desk before he pulled Isaac over to a set of chairs that were unoccupied next to a middle aged man who looked overwhelmed. Justin glanced toward Gus to make sure he was settled before turning to the desk attendant.

“My name is Justin Taylor. I was called about my partner, Brian Kinney being admitted.” Justin licked his lips and tried to keep his anxiety under wraps.

“Yes, they are running a few tests on him now.” The woman looked at her computer. “It says here you’re his medical proxy should he be unable to make decisions.”

“That’s correct. Has he woken up yet? When the woman called earlier she said he was unconscious.” Justin tapped the side of his thumb on the counter as he waited for information.

“I’m not sure. I’ll page the nurse helping him. Until they get here you can have a seat.” She pointed to the waiting area.

Justin walked over to the boys. There wasn’t an open seat with them, so he stood in front of their seats and addressed them.

“What did she say about Dad?”

“Is Mr. Kinney going to be okay?”

Justin grinned at both boys asking at the same time. “One at a time. Ok?”

“What’d she say?” Gus insisted.

Justin looked the teen up and down. “She said I had to wait for an update from the nurse working on him.”

“Did his friend bring him or just drop him off?” Gus’ tone was bitter and tinged with anger.

“I don’t know.” Justin rubbed his face, he didn’t have the energy to deal with whatever this was.

“What are you talking about? Mr. Kinney was at work.” Isaac chimed in, his confusion settled all over his face.

Gus scoffed at his best friend. “Oh come on Isaac. My Dad doesn’t work late. He’s always out fucking some random guy. Isn’t that right, Justin.”

“Gus, I’m going to give you about five minutes to shift that attitude.” Justin gave no room for argument in his tone, and yet, Gus found space to do so.

“Seriously?! He’s cheating on you and you don’t even fucking care!” Gus was angry enough to stand up and stand chest to chest with Justin

Without batting an eye, Justin responded in a controlled, even tone. “Gus, you have no idea the agreement your father and I have about our relationship. Now is not the time to be having this discussion.”

“Then when? Huh, pop? When are we going to talk about how Dad sleeps around on you and you let him!” Gus was practically screaming at this point.

Before Justin could reply or talk Gus down, a man appeared asking for the family of Brian Kinney.

Justin gave Gus a look that told him they weren’t done, before he walked over to the doctor waiting.

Gus muttered, “Fuck you,” as Justin passed him by.

To Justin’s surprise the man that had been sitting next to Isaac this whole time stood up and approached Justin. He looked nervous and honestly completely wrecked.

“Hi, I’m Luke.” He put his hand out, “This is awkward but I guess I’ve been fucking your husband.”

Justin looked the dirty blond up and down, then let out a maniacal laugh. His nerves were shot to hell not knowing what was going on with Brian and here was this guy having the nerve to introduce himself.

“Look, Luke, I know all about you. And the others like you. My partner and I have an agreement. I appreciate you bringing him here, but I must ask you to leave.”

Luke, however, didn’t back down. “He’s gonna leave you for me. He told me I’m the best sex he’s ever had.”

Justin turned away from his pursuit of approaching the doctor to give Luke a piece of his mind.

“Keep dreaming. Brian Kinney fucks em and leaves em. Unless they’re me. Until he’s stuck around in your life for 17 years don’t come to me with an unwarranted bravado about the nature of our relationships with Brian.”

And just like that, Justin turned away and came face to face with the doctor who’d asked for Brian’s family.

“Hello, Doctor. I’m Justin Taylor, Brian’s life partner.”

“Hello, Justin. My name is Dr. Alec Henderson. I wanted to let you know Brian has woken up and is asking for you. We’ve given him some electrolytes and glucose to bring his numbers back up.”

“So, I can see him?” Justin placed a hand nervously to his chest.

“Absolutely. He’s been asking for you.” Dr. Henderson smiled.

Justin turned around once more. He scanned the room for Luke but couldn’t find him. He let out a sigh of relief. Then, he got Gus’ attention and motioned the two teens to come over. Gus rolled his eyes and groaned, but was encouraged to comply thanks to Isaac.

Dr. Henderson led them back to a small exam room a few feet down the hall. Justin let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding the moment he laid eyes on Brian. The brunet was up in bed, smiling and flirting with the nurses.

He turned when Justin, Gus, and Isaac entered the room. His smile grew, causing his eyes to twinkle.

“Sunshine! Sonny Boy! Kiddo!” Brian threw his arms out in greeting.

Justin rushed to his bedside while Gus hung back, shooting daggers at Brian. Isaac, unsure of his place with everything stuck close to Gus.

“I’m fine.” Brian wrapped his arms around Justin, kissing the top of his head. “Just had a low hit me out of nowhere.”

“I was so worried when they said you passed out. You could’ve died!” Justin tried to stop tears from welling up, but his emotional walls had crumbled under the stress of the last hour.

“Hey, I couldn’t die without,” Brian started, but then glanced toward the teens and put his lips against Justin’s ear before continuing. “Fucking you into oblivion first? Come on, Luke’s not even that great.”

Justin sniffled one last time and chuckled. He adjusted his position so that he could look down upon Brian.

“He just tried to assert his permanence in the situation with me in the waiting room. He’s got balls, I’ll give you that.” Justin smiled, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

“So you’ve seen.” Brian put his tongue into his cheek. “But, he’s got none of your spunk Sunshine. I’m always picturing you instead.”

“Just what every guy wants to hear.” Justin smirked and leaned down to kiss the older man on the lips.

“Come on!” Gus exclaimed, pulling the men’s focus away from each other.

Justin groaned and turned to address Gus. “NOT NOW.” He gave the teen a hard look.

“No, Pop. How is it fair to you? Dad sleeps around, tells you about it, and expects you to just be okay. That’s not fair.” Gus put his hand on Justin’s shoulder and gave him a sympathetic look.

“Gus, do you know how long I’ve known that your Dad needs some anonymous release sometimes?”

“I’m guessing like 5 years because I’ve known about Dad sleeping around since I moved in.” Gus looked beyond Justin to engage his Dad in a stare down.

“Try 17.” Justin replied, smug but not so much so that Gus would pick up on it. “Your Dad might have come to me the most in the early years, but I was the exception. It still took him 4 years to even admit we were in a relationship and tell me he loved me. All this time I’ve known that I’m the one not just another fuck.”

“But how could you possibly be okay with this?” Gus continued defending Justin against Brian which the blond found highly amusing.

“Gus, bud, your Dad showed me he loved me from the moment we met, though it took me two years to see it. If he needs release outside of us that’s fine. Because your Dad told me 15 years ago that I should know that when he comes home he’d be doing exactly what he wanted to do, coming home to me.” Justin wrapped his arms around the shocked teen.

“Sonny boy, it’s not cheating if Justin knows about it. We have an agreement. I get to go out no more than once a week, but I usually only need to go once a month, as long as Justin is informed and knows who I’m with.” Brian further explained.

Justin pulled back, sat on the edge of Brian’s bed, and kept his hand on Gus’ arm. He smiled at Gus and Brian in turn.

“I approve of any and all people your Dad entertains.” Justin shrugged. “Like I said, I know your Dad loves me. The rest is just who he is.”

“This family is weird. And considering my parents, that’s saying something.” Isaac broke in, finally stepping away from the doorway.

Brian started to laugh. Justin joined in and tickled at Gus’ side until he did as well.

“What’s life without a little color?” Justin smirked at Brian. Then, they both hugged each other and watched the two teens continue laughing.

[the-bau-quinjet]

heyy do you think you can do a steve rogers x reader where the rest of the avengers try to matchmake them because everyone ships them (& everyone knows that they're both in love with each other besides themselves LMAO)? it would be EXTRA amazing if you could make it such that the reader is smaller/shorter than steve? personally really love the height difference in a relationship but if not it's fine too! thank you so much, have a great day ahead xoxo

Set Us Up

Warnings: 2455

Word Count: crude language, but mostly fluff

a/n: This took me a hot minute because I couldn't think of ways for everyone to try and set them up lol, but I think this is super cute! I hope you have a great day too!!

Masterlist

"He totally has a thing for you! Nat, back me up." Wanda turned to the redhead.

You, Wanda, and Nat were supposed to be training. Instead, the two of them have been trying to convince you to make a move on Steve. As if that would ever happen.

"She's right." Nat replied calmly.

"Would you two stop gossiping and just train with me! Please!" You have never confirmed your crush on Steve, but that didn't mean your two best friends didn't know about it.

"Y/N, I'm serious. That man is crazy about you." Wanda tried again while Nat easily defended your attack.

"Wanda, he's my friend. That it." You refused to make eye contact, knowing she would she the longing in your eyes. Instead you kept advancing on Nat.

"Friends don't look at each other like that." Wanda smirked, knowing you'd fall into her trap.

"Like what?" You continued sparring with Nat.

"Like he wants to fuck you against any flat surface available." She stated matter-of-factly.

"Wanda!" You finally turned to her. Unfortunately, that was the point where Nat went on the offensive.

She easily tackled you to the ground, unable to stop her own momentum. She folded you like a pretzel, resulting in a very pitiful whine from you.

"Ow." You complained from the ground, not bothering with trying to get up.

"I know exactly what you need." Nat smirked devilishly. "Steve!" She called across the gym, only making you wince further.

"Steve! Can you do me a favor?" Nat asked the super soldier, knowing he was never one to turn down a friend in need.

"'Course, what do you need?" He made his way across the gym to where you were still sprawled out on the mats.

"Y/N just took a pretty bad beating. Can you help her stretch?" Her and Wanda wore matching smirks despite trying to hide them. "I'd do it, but I promised Wanda I'd help her with something, and we have to go now."

Steve barely had time to respond before the two women were making their way out of the gym.

"Hey, Y/N." He greeted you kindly, looming over your body which was still on the ground. "Are you okay?"

You huffed, glared at the door where your friends just abandoned you, and then smiled at Steve. "Yeah, Wanda just distracted me and you know what that means when you're sparring with Nat."

He grimaced slightly, imaging the beating you just experienced.

"I've definitely been there." He gestured for you to put your foot in his hand. "Here, give me your ankle."

You followed his instructions, lifting your left leg until he grabbed onto your ankle. He slowly pushed your leg forward, helping to stretch your hamstring.

You couldn't help but laugh at the way he had to bend over slightly to fully push on your leg.

"What's so funny?" He tickled your leg before gesturing for you to switch.

"Nothing. You're just really tall." You snickered again at his hunched over frame. Your foot didn't even reach his hips, meaning his back was arched at an odd angle to give him the correct leverage to help you stretch.

"Maybe you're just short. Ever think of that?" He raised a brow, dropping your right leg back to the floor. "C'mon, give me your hands."

You raised your arms up like a petulant child, knowing he would have to bend down to reach your hands.

He rolled his eyes at your childish behavior, but ultimately bent down to grasp your hands. He pulled you to your feet a bit too harshly causing your body to stumble into his.

Your head landed squarely against his chest, really showing off the height difference.

"See," he put a hand on top of your head. "You're just short."

You shoved him slightly, backing away from his warm body. "That may be true, but that doesn't mean you can go around saying it." You playfully glared at the much taller man.

"I'm sorry. Come with me, I'll make you a smoothie to make up for it."

Despite your best efforts, you couldn't keep the grin off your face.

"Deal."

You just knew Nat and Wanda would be all smirks when you inevitably filled them in on this whole encounter.

-

"Who moved all the mugs?" You muttered to yourself. You spent the last five minutes standing on the tips of your toes trying to reach the mugs that, for some reason, had been move to the very top shelf.

Then you spent another five minutes looking for the step stool you kept in the kitchen.

You were about to resort to climbing on top of the counter when Steve walked into the kitchen.

You didn't even have to ask for his help before he was walking up behind you and reaching for a mug. His body briefly brushed against yours as he pulled the mug from the shelf, plopping it down on the counter in front of you.

"Thank you." You smiled at him, unsure if you could form any additional words.

"Anytime, short stuff." He smirked.

"Hey! It's not my fault someone felt the need to reorganize the cabinets." You whined. "Who does that?"

"I think it was Tony." He chuckled. "He said something about helping two idiots realized they're in love." He shrugged.

"That man is so weird." The two of you laughed, completely oblivious to Tony's plan.

-

"You ready to go, punk?" Steve could tell just by the look on Bucky's face that something was up.

"What did you do, jerk?" He eyed him suspiciously.

"Nothing!" He quickly looked down the hall, knowing you and Sam were supposed to emerge any second.

"Sam! You promised you would take me to Coney Island today!" You followed him down the hall, not realizing Bucky and Steve were already in the living room.

"I know, but I can't! I have to fix my wings." He glanced at Bucky conspiratorially. "Tin man, Tony said he needs you in the lab. Something about updating the tech in your arm."

Bucky looked back at Steve.

"Sorry, man. Gotta go." Bucky went to leave, but turned back before he made it out of the doorway. "Why don't you and Y/N go?"

"That's a great idea!" Sam added on. "You two go have fun."

The two of them ran from the room together before you could protest.

"Looks like it's just you and me." You smiled at Steve, grabbing your purse and heading for the door. "You coming?"

"Definitely." He smiled right back at you before leading you to the car.

The car ride took a while, but it felt like no time at all while talking to Steve.

"What's your favorite part?" He gestured to the park map as the two of you walked in.

"I've actually never been before. That's why I was so bummed when Sam said he was busy." You looked around the park entrance, taking in all the bright colors and happy people.

"I'll just have to show you all of my favorite parts then." He smiled at the look of wonder on your face, slowly reaching for your hand.

"I'd like that." You bit your lip nervously, butterflies swarming in your stomach when he took your hand.

He showed you around the entire park, starting with the rides. You went on every ride you could, only stopping when a fan asked for an autograph or a picture from one or both of you.

"Those are all the best rides." He smiled confidently.

"Really? No ferris wheel?" You pouted a bit. "I've always wanted to ride a ferris wheel."

"Don't worry, we will." He grabbed your hand again. "It's better to save that for the end of the night. Right now, it's time for games."

You couldn't help but smile at his antics. He genuinely looked to be having the best time in the world, and you honestly felt the same way.

"Lead the way."

The two of you made your way to the arcade, where Steve let every kid beat him.

His face lit up with joy watching them celebrate beating Captain America at various carnival games. When the game seemed unbeatable, he would win and let the kid choose a prize.

At the last game, he whispered with one kid as you looked on suspiciously. The little boy grinned, nodding his head in complete seriousness before turning back to the game.

When Steve won, the little kid smiled bigger than anyone else had all day. Steve walked back over to you with an enormous gray teddy bear.

"Your losing streak ends." You gestured to the bear.

"Yeah, well little Michael over there said I needed to win a prize for my pretty friend. He said he'd throw the game for me." He spoke with complete seriousness, causing you to giggle.

"That might be the cutest thing I've ever heard." Your face was the epitome of heart eyes as you looked between Steve and the bear. You pulled him into a massive hug before finally stepping back and trying to calm down.

"What's next?" You grabbed the bear, holding it tightly in one arm.

"Food!" Again, he held your hand as he lead you around the park.

He walked with you along the boardwalk, pointing out various spots to get different foods. Some had been there since he was a kid, others were clearly newer.

"This used to be my favorite." He smiled fondly looking at the Nathan's Famous sign.

"Well then, what are we waiting for?" You walked confidently up to the window only to realize you had no idea what to order. "Steve! What should I get?"

He laughed at the panic on your face. Without even realizing, he put his arm around your shoulder, drawing you closer to him. You went easily, leaning into his touch.

"Can we get two Coney dogs and a large order of fries?" He asked the attendant taking orders. "Do you want anything to drink?" He looked down at you as though this were an everyday occurance.

"A slushie!" Your eyes went wide, a giddy kind of excitement growing in you.

"And two cherry slushies, please." He fished out his wallet with his free hand, still holding you close.

You moved to get money as well, but Steve shook his head. "This one's on me, sweetheart."

You all but melted at the pet name, hiding your smile by burying your head between your bear and his chest.

You signed a few more autographs and posed for more pictures while you waited for your food. A little kid came up to the two of you just as your order was called.

"I'll get it." You gestured for him to talk to the child.

"Captain America!" The little girl smiled widely when Steve crouched down to talk to her. "Are you on a date?"

Steve's face reddened at the question, but it made him think. "You know what, I think I am." He shook his head when he finally realized that Bucky and Sam set the two of you up without either of you realizing it.

"My mommy's gonna be sad. She said you're really handsome." The little girl laughed.

"Well, she's right. He is really handsome." You whispered conspiratorially as you returned with the food.

The little girl laughed before running back to her mom.

"C'mon, we can go sit on that bench." Steve gestured to an empty bench overlooking the beach. The two of you joked and laughed while you ate, but Steve couldn't stop thinking about the little girl's question.

"It's beautiful." You looked out over the sand. The sun was low in the sky, reflecting off the water.

"Breathtaking." Steve agreed, his eyes focused on you rather than the view.

"It's later in the day. Does that mean it's time for the ferris wheel?" You smiled widely, a common occurrence for the day.

"Yep. The ferris wheel is the very last thing to do before leaving." He threw away the trash from your meal before taking your hand in his.

"Why's that?" You looked up at him curiously.

"It's slow enough for you to enjoy the ride, even after eating. Plus, you get the best view from the top when the sun is setting." The two of you stood in line as he explained his reasoning.

"I guess you really know all the best tricks." You smiled at him, hugging the bear to avoid any embarrassing actions.

"Not really. Just the old ones." He joked.

"Steve Rogers! Did you just joke about your age?" You gaped at him playfully.

"Hey! If I can't joke about your height, you can't joke about my age." He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense.

"I guess that's fair." You nudged him with your shoulder, but he remained solid as a rock.

The two of you sat next to each other in the cart, placing the stuffed bear across from you.

"You were right. This is an incredible end to a marvelous day." You looked out over the park, taking in the pink and orange hues from the sunset.

"Y/N... I think Sam and Bucky set us up." He looked at you nervously.

"Yeah, they did a great job of it too." You replied easily, having realized much earlier than Steve what was going on.

"You're not upset?" He questioned, a confused look on his face. You decided to respond with an unfamiliar amount of bravery.

"Steve, I had an incredible day. The only way I'd be upset is if you didn't kiss me at the end of it." You smiled shyly.

"What if I kissed you now, even though it's not technically the end?" His smile matched your own.

"That'd be okay too."

"You both leaned in, meeting in the middle for a soft and romantic first kiss. His lips moved against yours as if they were made for each other.

"Steve?" You pulled back for air.

"Yes?" He smiled blissfully, forehead still pressed against yours.

"I think we're the idiots in love with each other." You whispered softly, thinking back to what Tony had said.

"I think you might be right."

He smiled, pulling you to kiss you again.

"Steve?" You pulled back again, a bright smile on your face.

"Yes?" His eyes remained closed, just breathing in the moment.

"The ride is over..."

His eyes snapped open, a blush painting his cheeks when the ride attendant awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Sorry!" He jumped from the ride, grabbing the bear in one hand and you in the other.

"Where to now?" You questioned, laughing as he pulled you through the park.

"Home, so I can end this date right."

Permanent tag list:

@averyhotchner

@jesuswasnotawhiteman

@strawberryspence

@sebastnstn

[hopelesshawks]

Official Accounts Part 33- Trust

Summary: (y/n) was perfectly happy remaining anonymous, even if her best friends were all pro heroes and she worked under THE Hawks. Handling the technical aspects of hero work from the background suited her just fine, thank you very much. That goes out the window when suddenly her twitter blows up thanks Denki and the famed no. 2 hero is asking her to run his own official twitter as a result

If you don’t want to see Official Accounts content blacklist #hopelessoa

Masterlist

Hawks is neither dumb nor oblivious. He knows that he is not okay after learning about Endeavor. He knows that it isn’t normal to feel nauseous at the thought of using his quirk. But he also knows that you’re excited for this stupid gala tonight. So even though the very thought of seeing members of the HPSC or Endeavor fills him with quiet, fervent anger, he is determined to take you and make sure you have a good night. Mina had arrived an hour ago with a garment bag and a backpack stocked with makeup and hair products and immediately dragged you into your room to start getting ready. Even from outside he can hear the two of you laughing. So no, he is not in denial about his emotional well-being. He is well aware that he needs to shake off the anger, disgust, and heartache that’s clung to his spine since that night on the balcony. But the sound of your laughter and the sight of your smile makes him forget everything else, even if only for a moment, so if enduring one of the least heroic parts of hero work is what it takes to keep you happy then he’ll do it.

It’s almost time to leave. Hawks wears a crisp black suit with a black shirt underneath. The designer had also given him a red tie to wear but the night would be suffocating enough without a fancy noose around his neck as well, so he’d decided to skip it and leave the top few buttons of his shirt undone instead. He followed Bakugo’s advice and had run out to get flowers while you changed. Now he stands nervously clutching them in one hand while he waits for you to finally emerge.

Mina slips out first, excitement evident in her black and yellow eyes. “You’re gonna flip when you see her,” she whispers to him conspiratorially before clearing her throat and standing up tall. “Now presenting, the breathtaking and stunningly gorgeous (y/n) (y/l/n), as styled by Mina Ashido and Momo Yaoyorozu,” Mina announces with a flourish before throwing open the doors to reveal you standing on the other side. He would like to say something witty and charming but all of Hawks’ smooth charisma seems to have abandoned him, leaving only Keigo staring at the person he loves in all her beauty in a red dress that perfectly matches his feathers. “Told you,” Mina sing songs with a laugh and you think you would pay admission to see Keigo blush the way he currently is again. “These are for you,” he finally says, offering up the beautiful blooms. “Thank you, they’re perfect,” you grin as you take them and Mina is quick to take them off your hands to put them in some water. “You kids have fun! I’ll lock things up here,” Mina assures you before shooing you and Hawks out your apartment.

“Shall we?” Hawks asks as he offers you his arm. You get a flashback to that first date and part of you wonders what would’ve happened had you not bared your soul to him that night. When you look in his eyes though, and see the genuine affection in his golden gaze, you find that you truly wouldn’t change a thing as long as you could still end up right back in this moment. “We shall,” you grin, as you take his arm and he leads you down the stairs and out the door.

You blink in surprise as you lay eyes on a long black limousine. “You got a limo?” you ask incredulously. “Of course, it’s too far to walk and you deserve to roll up to your first red carpet in style,” he winks as he opens the door and helps you in. “Honestly I thought you might fly us there,” you admit. You notice the way Hawks tenses up for just a moment but when he slides in next to you he’s all smiles. “And let the wind ruin all of Mina’s hard work? She’d kill me,” he replies smoothly. You decide to drop it, after all if your suspicions about why he’s so hesitant to use his quirk are correct, then the last thing he needs is to dredge up those feelings right before seeing the very people at the center of them.

Pulling up to the red carpet is odd for a variety of reasons. For starters the idea of walking a red carpet with reporters who you can already hear clamoring outside is surreal in and of itself. But also it’s odd because for the past week or so since your kidnapping you’d been getting to see Keigo without filter. But as he turns to you and asks “You ready little techie?” you can almost physically see him rebuilding his walls. He gives your hand a quick squeeze and you think maybe, just maybe, he’s still left a door in the wall for you. So you take a deep breath to relieve your nerves, meet his eyes, and then you tell him “I’m ready.”

The flashing cameras are overwhelming at first but Hawks finds your hand and quickly squeezes it, immediately grounding you. He lets go just as quickly, after all he had promised you this was strictly platonic and the press would surely latch onto any sign of affection as proof of a relationship. He’s pleasantly surprised to feel you take back his hand and intertwine your fingers. He needs the grounding too. He turns to you and you both share a private smile before he slides back on the infectious grin that all of Japan knows him by. Reporters are shouting his name left and right as he leads you towards the entrance. “Hawks! Hawks! Who’s your date this evening?” “Hawks! Are the rumors true about your Twitter fling?” “Hawks! Over here! When will you be returning to hero work?”

Finally you enter into the building and both of you breathe out a sigh of relief as you finally put the reporters behind you. “You said there’s free booze here?” you ask slightly out of breath as your heart returns to its normal cadence. “That there is,” Hawks replies before smiling and pulling you to the elevators up to the banquet hall by your still intertwined hands.

Several tables are set up around the hall and there’s a stage where presumably there will be a few speakers once everyone gets more settled and has had some time to mingle. The two of you spot Mirko in a purple jumpsuit standing with a dark haired woman with wolf ears dressed in a black gown. “C’mon let me introduce you,” Hawks encourages as he leads you to their table. “You already know Mirko, this is her lovely girlfriend Olivia. Olivia meet (y/n),” he introduces. “So you’re the infamous (y/n). I see what all the hype is about,” she says as she gives you an appraising look. “Oh infamous, huh?” you ask already smirking. “Oh yea. Can’t tell you how many times this one has whined to me about Hawks pining over you,” Olivia laughs, revealing her sharp canines in the process as she pulls Mirko in tight to her. “I do not whine!” Mirko says with a roll of her eyes while Hawks protests “I wasn’t pining!” You laugh as both women give him a skeptical look. “Ok if I’m going to be attacked this way I’m going to need a drink,” Hawks sighs, “want one?” “Sure I’ll take-“ “White wine work?” he cuts you off. “You talked to Katsuki,” you laugh. “I have no idea what you’re talking about Dove,” he grins walking backwards away from you before finally turning to head to the bar.

“Two glasses of white wine,” Hawks asks of the bartender. “Put it on my tab,” a gruff voice says coming up behind him. Hawks feels his entire body stiffen. “It’s an open bar Endeavor, there are no tabs,” Hawks says without turning to look at his former hero. “Hawks we need to talk,” Endeavor insists. “I’ve got nothing to say to you.” “I am trying to do better.” “That’s great and all but it doesn’t untraumatize your kids. If you weren’t a high ranking hero you’d be rotting in a cell right now.” “You cannot tell anyone. The fate of hero society-“ “You think I don’t know that? I’m not an idiot.” “I never said you were.” “Then don’t lecture me old man.” “I have saved so many lives. And thanks to my training so has Shoto.”

Hawks whips around to stare at the man he once idolized and is shocked to see Endeavor genuinely believes what he says is true. As if his hero work somehow undoes his crimes. “First of all, Shoto is a great hero in spite of, not because of you. Second of all, if you really want to take credit for the lives he’s saved then you also have to bear the responsibility for the lives Dabi has taken. How many is he up to now? 30 something? Not counting the death toll from Kamino Ward,” Hawks bites out, his wings expanding instinctively to make himself larger in front of the other man. “You know my father never laid a hand on me. No he was neglectful and cruel in other ways but never physically abusive. I once wished you were my father instead. Now I know I would’ve just been trading one monster for another.” “Hawks I-“

“There you are! I was wondering what was taking so long,” you interject as you slide between Hawks and Endeavor, facing your date. “Ease up a little bird brain, it’s ok,” you whisper in as calming a voice as possible. Hawks hadn’t even realized how worked up he was getting until you intervened, but he’s grateful now that you’re here to ground him. You spin around to address the number one hero directly. You should probably be scared, or at the very least nervous, but instead you stand up tall, chin raised defiantly, and bring your quirk to the surface just enough for your eyes to glow as you make eye contact with the man in front of you. “I don’t care what the rankings say, Hawks is a better hero than you’ll ever be,” you declare unflinchingly. Endeavor opens his mouth to respond but you continue before he can, “I think it’s best you leave him alone now. We have an evening to enjoy.” With that you grab Hawks’ hand and spin on your heel before marching off.

As you’re walking back to the table where Olivia and Mirko are waiting, the lights dim and one of the members of the HPSC takes to the stage. It only takes one quick glance at Hawks’ face to confirm this is the last thing he needs to sit and listen to right now. So you bypass the table entirely and keep moving. “Where are we going?” he asks as you drag him to the first emergency stairwell you spot. “The roof. It can’t be that many more flights up and you look like you could use some fresh air,” you explain.

It takes four more flights of stairs for the two of you to reach the roof and you’d had to pick the door lock to get out, but it’s worth it for the view. Lights twinkle in all directions as the entire city stretches out before the two of you. “It’s beautiful,” you gasp as you take it all in. “It is,” Keigo confirms, although there’s a sadness in his voice. He sits down on the concrete and stares out across the view and so you take a seat beside him. “What’s up?” you ask gently. It breaks your heart to see the way he merely shakes his head with watery eyes. “It’s just me Kei. The roof isn’t even supposed to be accesible, no one is gonna bother us up here. What’s wrong?” you insist. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to outrun my father and be something better. Only to find out that something better was the same thing in prettier packaging,” he admits. “You are nothing like Endeavor. I meant what I said inside.” “I want to believe you but how can I when that’s the model I’ve been striving for since I was a kid?”

You stop and think for a moment as you try to figure out how exactly to word this. “Remind me who was it that called out Endeavor for being number one hero and yet ranking considerably lower than you in popularity polls? It was right after All Might retired,” you respond. Keigo rolls his eyes, “It was me but-“ “That doesn’t sound like something a dedicated disciple of Endeavor would do to me. You’ve always been able to acknowledge the flaws in the system. You don’t give yourself nearly enough credit and I’m sure if you asked any of the heroes here tonight they’d agree. I would trust you with my life Kei. I’m serious,” you insist. “Fine, fine. You’re so dramatic,” Keigo laughs but you know him well enough to know when he’s deflecting.

You rise up from your position and casually move towards the edge of the roof, keeping your eyes trained on the city. “You really are an incredible hero,” you say into the chilly night. “So you keep saying,” Keigo laughs ruefully behind you. “Hey Keigo?” you ask as you step onto the edge of the roof and turn back to face him. “What?”

“Think fast.”

You step backwards and then you’re falling.

Author’s Note: First before I forget, shoutout to @oliviasslut for letting me use her oc Olivia for Mirko’s girlfriend. I was low key stuck on that so letting me swipe your oc was a huge help. Anyway, THIS GOT SO FAR AWAY FROM ME WOW. I didn��t think this would be where I ended the chapter but it felt right and opens the next part up for more details which hopefully will be a good thing lmao. I will mostly likely be releasing a SFW and NSFW version of the next part, hopefully I don’t fall behind schedule and can continue the daily updates through to the end 😅 we’re in the home stretch guys.

Taglist [open]: @cathy8taffy @katzurras @grumpyfroggies @captaincyberqueen @itskindofafairything @420-uwu @someweirdshitman @oliviasslut @the-adzukibean @a-fucking-sero-kinnie @ladyzayismultifandom @pixelwisp

[2manyfandoms2count]

A Night at the Opera

A @mlwritersguild​ Valentine for @noirequin​! Happy belated Valentine’s day! 💕

Summary: Chat Noir wanted a date with Ladybug for Valentine's day. Marinette wanted a date with Adrien. When neither option work out, Chat Noir and Multimouse end up on a platonic outing at the Opera. Or at least, that was the plan. 

Tags: Marichat, Multichat, Ladynoir, Adrienette, Snekmouse

Read on AO3

---

Adrien sighed wistfully as he listened to Mme Mendeleiev’s lecture, head leaning on his hand.

It wasn’t that chemical structures bored him, far from it. It was just that, looking at the structure of oxytocin on the black board, he couldn’t help but remember that it was also known as the love hormone, which, of course, made him think about Ladybug, which, in turn, made him replay the last conversation they’d had, a couple of nights back.

The moon had been out, shining its bright, kind light over the city. They’d sat down on the edge of a building, wrapped in thick blankets as they watched out for signs of an Akuma. January had seen quite a few emerge at night, and they’d assumed February would probably be no different.

The warm light from the streetlights below, along with the few stars shining from above, had made it all feel quite romantic.

Without looking at her, fearing that his heart might burst out from his ribcage, he’d asked if she was doing anything special for Valentine’s Day.

He’d seen her nod out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh.” He’d managed to utter before a lump took over his throat.

“I’m going to ask out the boy I love.” She’d whispered, a small blush creeping up her cheeks.

“That’s great!” He’d put on his best smile, and tried to sound as supportive as possible, although his voice sounded more high-pitched than he would’ve liked it to. She didn’t seem to notice, or, at least, chose not to comment on it. “I’m sure it will go well. You’re the best, my Lady, he’d be an idiot to turn you down.”

He’d been almost thankful for the ruckus that had emerged a couple of blocks away, providing an effective change in subject.

It felt stupid to torture himself like this, but he couldn’t help it. He resented the jealous feeling that invaded his chest when he thought about the possibility of Ladybug being in love with someone else. He wished he knew who the boy was, to see if he was a suitable match for her. Well, that was his second wish. He really wished he was the boy (it was foolish, he knew). Ladybug had every right to have someone else in her life. And maybe it would be for the best if they got together, too. Seeing her in a happy relationship, maybe he’d find it in him to properly move on.

He sighed again, and leaned back in his seat, hoping the distance might help him concentrate, but his ears perked up at the sound of Marinette and Alya’s whispered conversation. He couldn’t help but listen in.

“Why must everything be about love right now? Honestly I wish I had some oxytocin.” There was a small thud, which Adrien assumed was Marinette landing her head on the table. She did it a lot when she was frustrated, and he really thought it was valid. He didn’t dare flop down from the first row, though.

“You’re pining so hard, it would be a wonder if you didn’t have any.” Alya snorted.

“Alya!” Marinette hissed, although he really couldn’t understand why, before sighing. “Paris is just so wonderful around Valentine’s Day, if only I had someone to share the feeling with.”

“Just stick to the plan, you’ll have someone to frolic in the snow with soon enough.” The aspiring reporter giggled.

The word 'snow' had Adrien’s gaze snap towards the window, and completely wave off the rest of Alya’s words. Sure enough, the morning’s light rain had turned into majestic snowflakes dancing in the wind, a little shy of completely covering surfaces.

It was pretty romantic weather, perfect for walking hand in hand, giggling as the cold reddened your cheeks and snowflakes landed on your eyelashes. Or for snuggling up side by side on a carriage ride around the Champ de Mars. Or for staying in to watch a movie, warming your hands around a hot cup of tea or cocoa.

He could imagine sharing those moments with Marinette. In fact, beside Ladybug, Marinette was the only person he could see himself spending Valentine’s Day with.

He got lost in his thoughts. Maybe he could take the bluenette out for Valentine’s Day. She deserved a break, and he was more than willing to go all out for her to have a good time. They could hit all the romantic spots - strictly platonically, of course. He still wasn’t sure who it was that she liked, but he doubted it could be him.

Really, nothing prevented them from getting some pommes d’amour on the Champs-Elysées together, ride the merry-go-round at the foot of the Eiffel Tower, or the Tuilerie's Grande Roue. It could all be great fun.

But then again… He wasn’t sure how much she’d enjoy going out with him. They were bound to run into some fans, disturbing their tranquillity.

Or worse: the press. He could already see the headlines: Does Adrien Agreste have a girlfriend? All you need to know about Marinette Dupain-Cheng! She didn’t need people lurking about, trying to find juicy information about her.

And that, of course, would only possibly happen if his father allowed him to go out in the first place. He sighed. The man made everything a real hassle.

There were clearly too many obstacles, if he wanted to spend some quality time with his friend.

That being said, a little voice in his head whispered, there is one purr-son who doesn’t have to answer to anyone, and could sneak out fairly easily. Someone who could fade into the night to avoid the crowds, and had access to even more romantic spots of the capital.

A satisfied smile spread on Adrien’s lips as he relaxed into his seat. Neither he, nor Marinette, would spend Valentine’s Day alone this year.

And he already knew exactly where Chat Noir would be taking her.

---

“Adrien?” Marinette called after him on the school steps at the end of the day. The skies had cleared earlier, and the snow had already melted, making the ground quite slippery underfoot.

“Yes, Marinette?” He turned around with a bright smile as he waited for her to join him at the bottom of the staircase. Her steps were measured, her breathing controlled, but she was wringing her hands, giving away a certain tension. He noticed that a light blush dusted her cheeks, although it could also have been the nipping cold. The colour looked good on her.

“Um…” She cleared her throat, and stood a little taller. “I was wondering… Are you doing anything next Thursday?”

“You mean for Valentine’s Day?” His smile widened. He knew he’d be turning her down, but if she was asking him about his availability, it meant that she was definitely free.

His question seemed to catch her off-guard, and her own brave smile faltered. “Oh, is it already Valentine’s? Gosh, time flies by so quickly, don’t you think?” She chuckled nervously. “Anyway, I… I forgot about that detail, I was definitely asking you out. I mean! Not! Asking you out!” Her eyes widened in panic. “I was just thinking… Since, you know… We’re both single… Maybe we could hang out? Definitely not anywhere romantic, just-”

“You know, I really would have loved to spend Valentine’s Day with you.” He interrupted her with a chuckle, gently touching her forearm. She froze, and her cheeks flamed up.

“Really?” She squeaked. Kwami, she’s adorable, he thought with a smile.

“Yeah!” Seeing her like this, he had to fight back the urge to change his mind and say yes to her straight away. Remember your plan, the voice in his head spoke again. She’ll love it so much more. “It would be so much better than what my father has planned for me.” He rolled his eyes, silently hoping that he wasn’t invoking a real hold-up.

“Oh.” She sounded almost disappointed. “Another photoshoot?”

“I’m not even sure, at this point. I just know there’s something.” He shrugged as defeatedly as he could muster. “Maybe we could hang out some other time, though? I miss my UMS partner.” He winked.

“That would be nice.” She gave him a small smile.

A honking sound made them both jump. Adrien turned around and saw his bodyguard was waiting for him in his car. He waved at him sheepishly. He couldn’t run too late on his schedule, or he wouldn’t be able to fit in his little visit to Marinette.

“See you around, then!” He smiled at her before running towards the car.

She just waved in response.

---

“I’m so pathetic, Tikki, what even was that?” Marinette groaned as she finally flopped down on her bed after finishing her homework, covering her face with her hands. “What is wrong with me? I mean, never mind telling him I love him, why can’t I even ask him out without instantly backtracking?”

“You’ll do it one day, Marinette.” She felt her Kwami’s flippers pat her head gently.

“I’m not sure I will.” She rolled over to her side, hugging her pillow against her chest. “You saw the way he looked at me before I said it wouldn’t hold any romantic implications. He doesn’t like me that way.”

“You know, I wouldn’t-”

Tikki’s sentence was interrupted by a light thud above their heads, followed by footsteps, which sent her zooming behind Marinette’s books.

A few seconds later, a familiar masked face peeked over her skylight, face brightening with a smile as he saw her. Marinette got up and opened the latch, letting him in.

“Hi, Marinette!” Chat Noir said excitedly as he carefully climbed down, mindful not to step on her pillows. He sat cross-legged at the foot of her bed, looking very smug.

“Hey, Chat Noir.” She smiled softly. He really knew when to show up to cheer her up. Maybe they did share a special connection. “What’s up?”

“You’re going to love this.” His smile grew wider, if that was possible, and he started rocking back and forth, as he went straight to the point. “Do you have any plans for Valentine’s day?”

“No, as usual.” She sighed, meeting Adrien’s gaze on one of his pictures.

“Then you’re in luck because I have one ticket for the best night Paris will offer.” His eyes sparkled in the half-light of her room. “I’m taking you out on an adventure.”

“Oh?” Marinette’s eyebrows shot up.

“Yep.” He popped the “p” sound. “I have something great in mind for my favourite mouse.”

“Leftovers from your plan for Ladybug?” She tried teasing. It came out a little more abrupt than she’d intended, but her soft gaze smoothened the edge a little. She’d been so quick to say no to Chat, she hadn’t considered that, being his very thoughtful self, he’d probably had a whole event planned.

He looked more offended than hurt at her words. “Of course not! In fact, I think it might actually be better than my original plan, believe it or not.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stuck his tongue out.

“Sorry, kitty, that was uncalled for.” She placed a hand on his knee, and sighed. “It’s been a long day.”

“That’s alright, Princess.” He smiled and covered her hand with his. Maybe he’d been a little too abrupt with his refusal earlier, and he’d actually hurt her feelings. Marinette did look pretty tired, which he knew from experience could lead to misinterpretations.

“So, what did you have in mind?” She cleared her throat.

“It’s a surprise.” He waggled his eyebrows mysteriously. “The only thing I’ll say is that I’m a sucker for romance, and I might be pulling all the stops for the evening. Even if we’re just hanging out as friends, obviously. Why should couples have all the fun?”

“It’s completely unfair.” She nodded. The thought that maybe it wouldn’t be that bad if they actually were a couple crossed her mind. It wasn’t like she didn’t really like Chat Noir already. There was a part of her she’d actively tried to repress that was very intent on saying that if anything, Chat Noir was very hot on Adrien’s orange Converse’s heels in the race for her affection. Maybe it was time to let him take the lead. If he wanted to, of course.

But really, anyway, going on a date with him (a platonic one, at that) didn’t engage anything. It would always be more than what she’d had with Adrien. And it really couldn’t hurt to expand her horizons a little further than the one Adrien Agreste.

“There is one thing I still need to sort out, and that is how to get the Mouse Miraculous for you.” Chat Noir tapped his chin thoughtfully.

Marinette bit back a smile. “I could take care of that for you, if you want.”

“Really?” He asked, sounding almost relieved. Not that it would have been a huge hassle to get it from Ladybug, just that if he was to set everything up for their night out, he was almost sure it would slip his mind.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” She smiled angelically. “Any reason in particular that I should invoke?”

“Just anonymity.” He shrugged. It was true, to a certain extent. It would obviously be a lot easier to explain to a wandering gardien de nuit why two superheroes were hanging around his monument, even if they were in the middle of a picnic. Another reason was a pun, but neither Marinette, nor Ladybug, needed to know that. Ladybug would probably say no if she knew. And finally, it didn’t hurt that Marinette looked particularly badass as Multimouse. Really, he just wanted her to get used to her powers, was all.

“Okay, will do.” Marinette played with the fabric of her pillowcase. “Anything else I can bring?”

Chat Noir’s pupils dilated hungrily at the thought of Tom & Sabine’s macarons. He shook his head. “Maybe some macarons?” He asked as nonchalantly as possible, even though it was pretty clear she was not fooled.

“I’m sure that can be arranged.” She smirked and patted his thigh gently. “Passion fruit, right?”

“You know me so well, Purr-incess.” He leaned forwards and kissed her cheek, before standing up unsteadily on the soft mattress and pushing her skylight up.

“Pick you up at 7pm?” He asked before lifting himself out.

“I’ll be there.” She watched him vault away across the rooftops, then closed the window and wrapped herself in her blanket.

Maybe she’d get a not-so-platonic Valentine’s evening with a passion fruit macaron lover after all.

---

“Stop!” Chat whispered, flattening himself behind a pillar and extending an arm to block Multimouse’s path. She squeaked at the sudden contact and he flinched, looking wildly at the incoming warden from the safety of their hiding place.

The latter walked past without a second glance, humming along to the Swan Lake Waltz which could be faintly heard coming from behind the closed doors lining the corridor. Chat Noir let out a sigh of relief as he disappeared around the corner, and tiptoed out, ears flickering around in search of any sound.

“All clear.” He gestured for her to come out of hiding, and resumed his path on the richly carpeted hallway.

“You know, when you said that you had romantic plans in mind, I didn’t really picture us breaking into the Opéra Garnier.” Multimouse jogged to catch up with him (he walked surprisingly fast, even loaded with a giant picnic basket), her heart beating even quicker than during their first close call. At this rate, she probably wouldn’t survive the evening.

“Me? Doing anything illegal? You wound me my L…” He stopped shy of blurting out “my Lady”. It felt so natural to speak with Marinette like this; honestly, it was like talking to Ladybug.

Maybe because both Ladybug and Marinette shared the ability to worry about anything. As if he’d put her in any danger.

Marinette raised her eyebrows and she shot him a pointed look, daring him to finish the thought. If he’d looked more closely, though, he would have noticed she’d tensed up.

“My little rat de l’Opéra.” He saved himself, gulping.

She rolled her eyes. “So that’s why you needed me to suit up. It’s all a very elaborate pun.”

“Maybe.” He smiled mischievously and stopped in front of a door, double-checking the namecard shoved above the little doorbell. His ears drooped a little as he covered it with his hand to prevent Marinette from seeing it. He put his basket down and opened the door for her. Memories came flooding back as he took in the chairs and the view.

His mother had always loved the Opera, and especially the Palais Garnier. He remembered coming here with her as a little kid, after his father had offered her a box for Christmas. He’d felt so shy and small as they climbed the grand staircase. It had been the first time he’d worn a suit; he remembered people had stopped them and gushed about how cute he was. He’d clung to Emilie’s gloved hand, hiding in her midnight blue skirt as she thanked them. She’d smiled and ruffled his hair tenderly as they continued their ascension, before bringing him to this very door. She’d picked him up and handed him the card, whispering in his ear to slide it in the cardholder.

“What does it say, Maman?” He’d asked when the task was accomplished.

“It says that this is our special place.” She’d kissed his cheek and taken him inside, where red velvet chairs awaited, as well as a whole musical universe.

The card just said Agreste family, he realised now. He didn’t think he’d ever noticed before; he’d always been too excited by the shows to linger at the door. It wasn’t like they came frequently, even when Emilie was still alive. Since then, they’d stayed away, but clearly Gabriel hadn’t found it in him to cancel the rental of the box. That, or he’d forgotten all about it.

“Everything alright, Kitty?” Multimouse’s head poked back out when he didn’t follow her inside.

“Yeah, peachy.” Chat shook away the memories, forcing a small smile, and walked into the box, making sure he closed the door behind them. “So, what do you think?”

Marinette leaned over the bannister. This was an excellent location; they had a prime view of the stage and of the rest of the room, but were high up enough that anyone on stage wouldn’t see them.

Which was a good thing tonight, given that there clearly was a rehearsal going on.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered as she watched the dancers glide, jump, and land gracefully in a symphony of pitter-patters, barely audible over the orchestra even with her enhanced hearing. She wondered if her companion had asked her to transform so she could fully appreciate that experience. “Really, Chat, it’s amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it.” He smiled; it was genuine, this time. She looked like a little kid on Christmas day, her eyes eating up the flurry of colours on stage. Maybe she’d design the costumes herself, one day. After all, she was already getting stage experience with Kitty Section and Jagged Stone.

“Do you come here often?” She turned around to face him.

“Not really.” He chose to leave out the fact it was actually his first time back since his mother’s disappearance. It wasn’t exactly a good Valentine’s Day topic. “But it does hold a special place in my heart, and I had a feline you’d be happy here.”

She rolled her eyes at the pun, but a small blush coloured her cheeks. Or maybe there’d just been a lighting change, he couldn’t tell. “I am, thanks, Kitty.”

They stared at each other from the safe distance of the box’s length, until all the Orchestra joined in for the apotheosis of the mouvement, making them jump slightly, looking away as they cleared their throats.

Chat Noir decided to busy himself by opening the basket he’d brought. He expertly shook out the tablecloth to set it flat in the small aisle. It was less romantic than a restaurant, but he thought the cosiness of the setting made up for it. It wasn’t anywhere you could have rich velvet seats and a private ballet show.

Multimouse pretended to follow the show below, watching him carefully switch on small electric candles and pepper their surroundings with them out of the corner of her eye. He then started setting a large amount of food down, before taking out a small vase of pink roses and placing it in the middle of their improvised table. She had to say, it all looked very fancy for a picnic.

“Would Mademoiselle care to join me for dinner?” Chat Noir bowed when he was satisfied everything was in order.

“Avec plaisir, très cher.” She giggled, daintily picking up an invisible skirt to sit down.

Marinette was very impressed. She kept forgetting, or rather, quashing, how thoughtful Chat Noir could be. Everything looked so lovely, the perfect amount of intimate, fun and reprehensible, which she surprisingly didn’t mind so much. If anything, it made the date feel that much more exclusive.

Her companion followed suit, but pulled a displeased face as he looked around.

“Just a second,” he shot up and carefully pulled the tablecloth closer to the bannister. Marinette scooted along, watching carefully over the objects set out on it, ready to spring into action if anything threatened to topple over. She appreciated the relocation, though; there was more space thanks to the extra leg room at the front, and they had a better view of the events on stage. “There, purrfect.” He smiled, pleased with himself.

Her heart rate quickened at the thought that it really was just the two of them in a romantic setting, and she was thankful for the distraction Chat provided by pulling out a glass bottle and two flutes from his basket.

“Can I interest you in some sparkling apple juice?” He asked as he started undoing the bottle’s wire cage.

“Yes, please.” She cleared her throat.

She watched him struggle with the cork, and her eyes widened as it flew off with a loud 'pop'. Her reflexes kicked in just in time, allowing her to catch it before it could fall out of the box.

They stared at each other wildly for a couple of minutes, completely frozen but for their hearts beating wildly, as they waited for someone to come bursting through the door to throw them out or arrest them. After what felt like an eternity of nothing happening, the show below continuing without so much as a wrong note, they started sniggering, covering their mouths to make as little noise as possible.

“Nice catch there, Princess.” Chat handed her a glass.

“Thanks.” Maybe being a superhero didn’t help with expressing her feelings, but it had done wonders for her clumsiness, especially when it came to Chat Noir. It was like she could anticipate his movements. Or maybe she just was less clumsy than him.

The interested party cleared his throat, holding out his flute. “To platonic Valentines.”

“Especially the ones planned by you.” Marinette clinked their glasses together, and took a sip before continuing. “This really is something else, Kitty. You’ll have to tell me how much I owe you.” She popped a gougère in her mouth, and almost melted at the delicate taste.

“Absolutely nothing. Your presence is all I need to make it worthwhile.” He smiled softly, making her heart skip a beat.

“Are you sure?” She squinted when he nodded fervently. “Are you secretly rich, or something?”

“Maybe.” It was Chat Noir’s turn to feel his face heat up. This conversation could quickly become a slippery slope. “Anyway, anything I could have done to improve this evening?” He nonchalantly dipped a carrot stick in hummus.

“Well, it’s still early, but I think it’s actually pretty perfect as is.” She escaped his gaze, feeling her conflicted feelings surface. She wasn’t sure that saying that there was nobody else she’d rather be with would be entirely false, yet she felt it wouldn’t be entirely true either.

“You wouldn’t mind me being somebody else, wouldn’t you?” Chat asked gently when her silence stretched for a little too long, as if reading her thoughts.

“I was actually thinking maybe asking if we could be there would be a good idea? Just to avoid your date having to be rushed off for a heart attack…” She started, but decided to backtrack when he gave her a pointed look. “Fine. Maybe. But I promise it’s nothing against you!”

“I know.” He smiled and reached for her hand, squeezing it compassionately. “I’d be lying if I said a little part of me didn’t wish to be with Ladybug right now.”

Multimouse squeezed his hand back as she searched for his eyes. “You know she loves you very much, right?” She couldn’t just say that actually he was in luck because he was with Ladybug tonight, when the person she would’ve liked to be with was stuck somewhere awful.

“Yeah, I do.” He smiled tightly, before clearing his throat. “But anyway, who’s lucky enough to have stolen the heart of Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

“A… good friend.” She changed her mind in the middle of her reply. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship, though. And I don’t think he likes me that way.”

“You won’t know until you ask him,” he pushed with a supportive smile.

“That’s what my best friend keeps telling me, too,” she sighed. “I can’t bring myself to tell him, though. I’m… I’m afraid of the rejection.”

It was stupid, really. Adrien was so lovely, he’d never hurt her intentionally. But still, the fear remained.

“Yeah, it’s not the best feeling.” Chat winced, and Marinette cursed herself for bringing up the topic. “That being said,” he added when he saw her ready to apologise, “I’d rather Ladybug know how I feel about her, rather than let my feelings eat me up. Plus, she knows I’m an option, if she ever changes her mind.”

He wondered if this would be a good time to tell her that, had he met her before Ladybug, she would probably be the one receiving all of his love declarations. He wasn’t sure it would make her feel better, though. It wasn’t like she liked him like that, and he didn’t want her to feel like she was his second choice. She was just as lovely as Ladybug.

“I think he loves someone else, though,” Marinette muttered in her drink. He’d said as much when they’d gone to the musée Grévin.

“Trust me, I’ve heard that one before.” He winked. “Maybe the reason we get along so well is that we’re both idiots who stay stuck on one person instead of moving on.”

“Maybe.” They smiled at each other.

Marinette mused that maybe it wouldn’t be so difficult to move on if she did it with Chat. They could support each other. Find comfort, and maybe something else, along the way.

The other option would be to move on alone, wearing another mask than the one she was wearing. By the look of things, though, she’d have to be quick about it, in case Chat decided to move on first.

“Anyway,” she cleared her throat for what felt like the thousandth time in the evening, thinking it was getting more and more dangerous to drown into her partner’s eyes. “What’s your perfect date idea?”

Chat paused, and started playing with his glass as he thought.

“Well, if I actually was at liberty of doing anything… I think something like this would suit me just fine. I’m being very self-indulgent, tonight.” His eyes twinkled in the dim lighting. “But, I’d also really like to ride the Tuilerie's Grande Roue; tucked in with a nice blanket, the city at our feet…”

“What a cheeseball,” she chuckled. It sounded very nice, though.

“Aren’t mice supposed to like that?” He smirked.

“I guess they can be tempted, from time to time.” She grabbed a cheese stick and bit into it, maintaining his gaze.

He was the first to break contact, hoping the lighting would conceal his blush. It probably wouldn’t do to kiss Multimouse, as adorable as she looked right now. Or to just pick her up and carry her all the way to the Tuileries to recreate his little daydream.

The silence stretched on, not uncomfortably, but something seemed to be missing nonetheless.

“Hey, the music stopped.” He realised, looking through the bannister. Sure enough, the stage and the orchestra pit were empty, although the lights hadn’t been switched off yet. It gave him an idea.

“Have you ever done ballet before?” He asked, a twinkle in his eye as he stood up and extended a hand to help her up.

“I took classes when I was little, but I stopped quickly. I preferred fixing my friends’ tutus to actually being on stage.” She smiled bashfully.

He chuckled. He could picture that very well. “How would you feel about having the Opéra stage to yourself?”

“I’m not sure I’d be worthy of it, but I do kind of like the idea.”

“Let’s go then!” He extended his baton, and automatically moved to wrap an arm around her waist so they could hop down, but his arm froze mere inches from her body. Maybe Multimouse would want to use her jumping rope, instead of hitching a ride with him.

His friend smiled and moved closer, draping an arm around his shoulders. “Yes, let’s.”

Chat felt a warm feeling spread in his chest as he held her close. He let go of her on stage, and hopped into the orchestra pit to conceal his fluster.

“Does the Etoile of the night have any music preference?” He asked as he sat at the piano. It was conveniently placed so the player could see the performers.

“None at all.” She replied, sliding her foot in a half circle in front of her, testing the ground.

He pondered. He didn’t know any of the Swan Lake pieces, but he supposed Saint-Saëns’ Swan would do just as well.

Multimouse closed her eyes, and let herself be carried by the music. She sailed across the stage, twirling gracefully; Chat’s eyes were glued to her and her hypnotising movements. It wasn’t exactly ballet, but somehow looked a million times more elegant.

He tried to keep the music going for as long as he could, watching her smile blissfully as she danced. He tried to capture the image in his head. She looked so carefree, for once, so beautiful. He was glad to have given her that, and he was grateful for her sweetening his memories of the Opera.

Multimouse wished Chat Noir would never stop playing. His rendition of the piece was so peaceful, so gentle, he made her feel like time had stopped. Like it was just them and the music, with nothing else mattering in the world.

After the third repetition, he let the last note resonate in the room. She didn’t want it to end, though.

“Hey, Chat Noir?” She murmured, not wanting to disrupt the atmosphere.

“Yes?”

“Would you come and dance with me?” She opened her eyes, and Chat Noir stood up automatically. He made his way up to her slowly, never breaking eye contact, as if in a trance.

He held out a hand, which she took, and pulled her close.

They spun around for a bit, lost in each other’s gaze. He made her twirl, making her almost regret she wasn’t wearing a dress, and dipped her.

Both of their hearts went haywire at the proximity.

Chat's eyes flickered to Marinette's lips, and he decided to pull her up before he could do anything stupid. He kept her close as they slow-danced, though.

“Hey, Marinette?” He interrupted the silence after a while.

She hummed in reply, revelling in his proximity.

“Who was it you wanted to spend tonight with?” Chat Noir whispered as they spun cheek to cheek, one of his hands on the small of her back, the other holding hers. “Another superhero?”

“Sort of. I mean, he’s been picked once, although I don’t think you’ve met him properly… Remember Aspik?” She blushed as she felt his breath tickle her ear.

Chat Noir pulled back a little to see her face, revealing his own broad smile. He was so lucky. She liked him. “Really? Adrien Agreste? You're in luck, Princess, it just so happens that I know him quite well... He actually told me he was very disappointed not to spend tonight with you, maybe I could arrange a date for the two of you?”

“I’m not sure I’d want that anymore, though.” She murmured. Her eyes fluttered elegantly and landed on his lips.

It took all of his self-control not to say that, actually, she didn't have to choose, since wherever he went, Adrien and Aspik went, too. Which meant there was none left to prevent him from closing the space between their lips.

What a shame, he smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

He was kissing Marinette. It was nice. Very nice. And she liked him. Adrien Agreste.

Well, Aspik, but that made no difference.

Except it does, he pulled back suddenly as he hit an epiphany.

She looked up at him inquisitively, almost disappointed that the moment was over.

“How do you know about Aspik?” Chat Noir squinted at her. “You weren’t there.”

Crap, she thought. Here I was, thinking I’d been doing so well. She wondered what her next step should be. She could protest. Pretend that she and Ladybug had talked about it together.

She felt the heat rise to her cheeks as she stumbled for words. She seriously considered kissing him again. Maybe it would make him drop the subject.

“Unless… You were.” He said, almost in awe, before letting out a small chuckle. “It would seem like we make a great pair of idiots, my Lady. We managed to fall in love with different sides of the mask.”

“That’s why you went AWOL that day.” Realisation dawned on her face, and he nodded.

They stared at each other, Multimouse’s hands still tangled in his hair, Chat Noir’s hands wrapped around her waist.

“Well, so much for a platonic Valentine’s, then.” He smirked.

“I think that was off the table the moment you kissed me anyway,” she breathed.

“You know I wouldn’t have gone for it had I not felt like it would be right.”

“And you know I love you for it.” She smiled, standing on her tiptoes to press her lips to his. She tried to express how glad she was that everything was turning out like this. She also hoped it would distract him from the fact she’d just blurted out that she loved him.

“Hey Chaton?” She broke off, and he rested his forehead against hers.

“Yep?”

“We haven’t had dessert.”

“Why, my Lady, what a scandalous statement.” He teased as she rolled her eyes.

“How about we end this date the way we both wanted? We could get the macarons, and go sit at the very top of the Grande Roue. There’ll be nobody to stop us.”

“See, this is exactly why I love you.” He kissed her nose and picked her up bridal style, eliciting a small yelp from her. “We just need to make one stop on the way, to get the snake Miraculous. I couldn’t deny you of a date with dear Aspik now, could I?”

She giggled and hung on more tightly to him as he carried her out of the building.

Really, the evening couldn’t have gone better in her dreams.

[spruceplank]

I told you I was brave but I lied

AN: based on this post by @blocklasagna

Or the AU from the time after Wilbur’s death and before Tubbo’s peaceful driven presidency can really begin because rebuilding has just started: The universe takes Tommy from Dreamsmp and asks the admin of Hermitcraft to help him heal. Cue Tommy now in Hermitcraft re-learning how to live again and not just survive because he deserves a chance to be a kid again.

Content warning: Descriptions of a panic attack

ao3 || 3.6k words || First | Previous | Current | Next

When Xisuma asks him if he wants to go to the server shopping district, he immediately says yes. It doesn't matter that this meeting is going to be for Xisuma telling the rest of the server he's here for now. It doesn't matter that it's like twenty plus people he's never met before in his life. He's not worried about it at all! If it means he gets to see more amazing buildings like Xisuma's base but now from so many different people he's all for it! If only he could get himself to believe it. 

When Xisuma leads him to a nether portal he's starting to think this wasn't the best idea. He manages to pass it off as being worried about piglins and Xisuma assures him that their nether hub is spawn proofed, well at least the parts they'd be going through. 

That's not something he's sure of but he decides to continue to trust Xisuma for now, at least on this. When he goes through the portal though, if it weren't for the sweltering heat he would not believe this was the nether. He doesn't have time to even look around at the place because he's too busy trying to catch up to Xisuma who's already off walking towards another portal. Hermitcraft huh… Was everything on this server so extravagant and resource intensive? The only other place he's seen so much warped or crimson wood is in the respective forests they come from. 

He's too busy gawking at the massive tunnel, made out of crying obsidian of all things, that he almost misses Xisuma going through another portal. Thankfully he manages to catch a glimpse of yellow in the corner of his eye and he scrambles over to follow the admin through the portal. Upon stepping out the other side he immediately thinks that this has to be some sort of fever dream. There are diamonds in the trees. And not even like just a couple, like as many diamonds as Technoblade owns and that's a lot of fucking diamonds. He looks around and is just blown away. 

This is a fully paved and detailed shop like area. This is the kinda shit he remembers seeing on servers dedicated to shopping where days of work were spent to make a server area look nice. There's an entire series of stylized buildings that are all completely different scattered about and then he turns around - Holy Fucking Shit. There's a fucking diamond throne. There is a throne made of diamond blocks, literally only diamond blocks in the building behind him. It doesn't matter if it's only the front of the throne or its hollow on the inside, that, holy fucking shit. How many diamonds even is that? 

He doesn't even realize he's stopped walking until Xisuma is asking, "Tommy? Are you alright?" 

"What the fuck." Is all he manages to say. Why the fuck is there a dog in a jumpsuit. Do those sheep have sunglasses on? What the hell is going on around here? 

"Excuse me?" Xisuma balks.

There's, that's a fucking terraformed mountain. He bites the inside of his cheek to make sure he's not having a hallucination or in the middle of a fever dream. Nope, neither of those. He really can't put thoughts into words right now so all he manages to say is, "What the fuck is this place." 

"The shopping district?" Xisuma hesitantly supplies. He needs Xisuma to know how crazy this is to him. What the actual shit. 

"Dude, Xisuma, how? There's, there's fucking diamonds in the trees. The throne, the throne of diamond blocks. It's just sitting there? Hello? How has no one stolen that? Then there's the fucking buildings! What the fuck!" He yells, half laughing because he feels like he's losing his mind a little bit. 

"Welcome to Hermitcraft, your one stop shop for over the top." A new voice chimes in from behind him, sounding amused. 

"Hello Joe." Xisuma greets the other person, Joe. He turns to look at whoever it is and finds a dude with a basic blue shirt and jeans. The blue shirt has a white @ symbol on it. Brown hair hangs slightly over the edge of rectangular glasses. 

Joe gives Tommy a smile when their eyes meet and he feels like the man is staring into his soul when he greets, "Howdy Xisumavoid and guest, you're up and around much faster than I thought you would be."

"Right introductions! Tommy this is Joe Hills, pseudo admin and poet. And Joe this is Tommy." Xisuma 

"Hiya Tommy, nice to meet you." Joe offers a hand which he shakes.

"Thanks, you too." He nods to Joe.

Joe smiles at him again and he thinks that maybe its not Joe, maybe he just isn’t used to people being friendly without an ulterior motive that makes him so nervous about meeting the man. He’s distracted from his thoughts when Joe asks, "So did Xisuma tell you much about this server?" 

"Uh… No, not really?" At least he hopes not. He didn’t remember much of anything. It was called Hermitcraft. Xisuma was the admin. Uh…. 

Joe sends a look to Xisuma who merely sputters in response for a moment before defending himself with an explanation, "I didn't want to overwhelm him! He thought my base was a lot yesterday so I figured he could learn as he went."

"So you didn't want to overwhelm him but then you brought him to the shopping district for the emergency meeting where you're going to tell most everyone on this server that Tommy will be here for the foreseeable future with no other explanation? And you didn't want to overwhelm him?" Joe continues to send a look of what he can only call ‘displeased parental figure’ at Xisuma as he asks. Yikes, he’s seen that enough from Philza Minecraft to know that even if it doesn't mean you’re in trouble it certainly means this wasn’t your brightest idea. 

"Okay, fair point." Xisuma sighs.

"Is everything on this server like this?" He can’t help but ask nervously. There was no way right? But no, Xiusma’s base was insane. The nether hub was also insane too.

Joe laughs lightly, "Tommy there are things on this server that will blow your mind, this is just a small glimpse of what Hermitcraft is like."

"Fucking hell." He can’t help but mutter. 

"Well I wouldn't want to spoil the surprises of Hermitcraft either. After all, where's the fun in that." Joe grins at Xisuma who merely shakes his head in response to the man’s antics. Joe rolls his eyes but starts walking away only to call over this shoulder, "Alright follow me you two, Xisuma is going to be late to his own meeting."

"We'll have time! Someone else is always late!" Xisuma yells after Joe.

"Yeah but some of us, have things we would like to get back to. Remember this was just brought up yesterday." Joe yells back without stopping or turning around. Xisuma grumbles under his breath but gestures for Tommy to follow him after Joe. Well at least these two seemed like good friends. Hopefully that would bode well for him. But then again, he and Quackity used to be good friends too. 

"Hello everyone and thank you all for coming on such a short notice." Xisuma addresses the crowd gathered around the outside of a building. Apparently this was the moon area? He didn’t know what the surface of the moon would look like but here in the center of all of this it certainly looked out of place. Pretty bleak too but there were so many different blocks blended together he had to give whoever built this area props for the block varieties. He stands a little behind one of the various pillars in the ground near where Xisuma is so he’s not visible to the others because he doesn’t want people staring at him right now. Its weird to occasionally peek around and see all these people in the same place talking nicely with one another. He’s used to only seeing fighting when large crowds gather. The area gets silent after Xisuma talks.

"What's this all about anyways?" Someone asks.

He expects Xisuma to ask him to come forward but the admin doesn’t even look his way when answering, "We have a guest who will be staying here on Hermitcraft with us for the foreseeable future. I expect you to all be on your best behavior."

"Why did you look at me when you said that?!" Someone cries out, sounding offended.

There’s a round of laughter when someone teases, "I don't know mother spore, why do you think?" 

The first voice snipes back, "Hey! You're in on that too!" 

"Yeah but you started it! Besides everyone knows the HEP is the best around here." The second voice throws back with a huff, "Maybe we'll recruit our new guest to join us as well."

Someone else chimes in, "Oh no don't you dare! What if he wants to join our side? Not you HEP people!" 

"Nuh huh! He'd join our side after just touring our base!" Another voice retorts back and he peaks around the pillar to look at the group of people. He can’t really make out who is who or who’s been speaking. But now he’s curious.

"Sides of what?" He can’t help but ask, hoping that someone will answer without looking for him.

A man with a pinstripe suit talks without even realizing it was Tommy who asked, "The opposing sides of the war-" 

Opposing sides of the war. Opposing sides of the war. The opposing sides of the war. He’s running from the battlefield before he even realizes he’s gone. He hears someone call his name and a few others echo that call but he won’t go back there. Please, please, please no. He hears the sounds of withers and explosions. He can hear the opposing side’s cheers as his friends die. It was never meant to be. The final control room. Eret betrayed them. They all lost a life. He’s already lost two lives. He only has one left. His brother is dead. Wilbur is dead. That’s a good thing right? It means his brother won’t have to suffer anymore. He couldn’t save his brother. He couldn’t save his best friend.

He doesn’t know where he is. The ground is hard beneath him but he can’t breath. Is it possible to drown on dry land? Why is he just sitting here? They’ll catch him if he doesn’t keep running. He pushes himself off white walls and turns to run only to smack into someone coming around the corner of the building. 

He’s knocked back to the ground and the world spins. Over the sound of his own heartbeat in his ear he can sorta make out someone say, "A Kid?" 

"Oh no." Everything sounds far away. There are people here. He's walked right into two of the enemies. He's as good as dead. 

He has to leave. He has to run while they're distracted. He tries to get himself up from the ground only to fail and fall back down against the hard stone. Someone is asking him a question, "Woah dude, are you alright?" 

Are they asking him a question? He squints, trying to make out the people in front of him. The world comes together to see a person with a moustache and someone with a robot eye. He doesn't know these people. He shuts his eyes again and curls in on himself. He doesn't understand. What is going on? Why is he so scared? Why can't he breathe? 

"Iskall he's having a panic attack." One of the people says. He recognizes the words. A panic attack? It sounds familiar but when he tries to remember why all he can hear is laughter blending into explosions. The world is shaking. The ground crumbles beneath him and - there's something touching his arm. 

He wretches away from the touch, eyes shooting open to identify the threat. It's the person with the robot eye. They're holding up their hands in a non threatening way. They're not a threat to Tommy. Their voice is warm when they ask, "Can you hear me? Is it okay to touch you?" 

The thought of them not being a threat is quickly overrun by maniacal laughter. Let's be the bad guys, let's be the bad guys. Wilbur wasn't a threat before. People change. He can't trust anyone. The mustached person watches him before turning to robot eye and quietly saying, "Iskall I don't think he can hear us, we need to go get-" 

"NO!" He chokes out on half a breath. No, no, no, no, no. He doesn't know these people. He doesn't trust them. But what if they bring back someone he does know? What if it's an enemy? What if it's one of his brothers? He'd rather leave his fate to strangers than anyone he knew. 

"Alright alright, can you match my breathing? In and out, in and out, may I see your hand?" Robot eye, what was the name, he doesn't remember what the other person said. Robot eye asks for his hand, holding out one of their own like a request. He doesn't want to take it. He doesn't want to take it. A grounding presence. Calm the breathing. Match my breathing. Static fills his head in the places where memories should be. He holds out his hand. Robot eye gently maneuvers his violently shaking hand onto their chest, he can feel a steady heartbeat beneath his palm. The slow, exaggerated rise and fall of their chest. They're talking to him again, "See just time it with mine okay? Don't think about it, just follow what you feel."

He feels like he's drowning. He feels like the world is shaking. He chokes on his own sobbing and panicked breathing, "They, don't, don't let -"

"Hey, hey it's okay, it's okay. Just match my breathing okay?" Robot eye whispers to him. Gently tapping his wrist to get his attention. Through blurry vision he can make out the fact they're counting but he can't hear the numbers. 

"Can't, can't, too loud." Even his own words sound like a roar in his ears. He's going to die here isn't he? This is where they died, this is where it ended. The cramped walls of the ravine loom over him as yelling echoes from nearby. Its too loud here, its always too loud here.

"Mumbo, do the Sahara protocol." Robot eye says to mustache. 

Mustache, Mumbo?, looks bewildered at Robot eye who merely nods with a raised eyebrow as if saying to speak. Mumbo sighs but starts to explain something, "So you start by selecting the items you want which sends the order keys back -" 

He tries to focus on whatever is being said but it's so over his head that he doesn't even know what the hell is being said. In a brief respite of everything not being deafeningly loud, he can hear the Robot eye person quietly reassuring him, "There you go, just match my breathing. In and out, in and out."

"When the order key… gets sent back to the warehouse… the connected...." Mumbo’s voice fades in and out as he tries to calm his breathing. His heartbeat pounds loudly in his head and everything seems muffled as he tries to make sense of the world.

"Conn- connect the what?" He struggles to ask through shaky words. What the fuck is this dude talking about? Didn’t he hear something about pistons?

There’s a pressure on his wrist as someone, Robot eye, squeezes his arm lightly to get his attention. Its a little hard to hear but he can make out the concerned voice that tells him, "Hey, hey, don't speak, no speaking until you're matched up your breathing."

So he sits there and listens to whatever the fuck is being talked about. He closes his eyes and just listens. This has to be about redstone. He’s heard repeater and comparator which he’s pretty sure are redstone things? His knowledge of anything beyond basic pistons and stuff is basically nothing. Eventually it feels like he isn’t dying anymore. He opens his eyes to see Mumbo pacing back and forth as he talks. 

"And then once the shulker box loader is done," Mumbo is just making up words at this point. What the fuck is a shulker box? A loader? Are these english words? He’s too busy trying to figure out what the fuck a shulker box loader that he misses more of whatever is being said. He only snaps out of his own thoughts when Mumbo finally stops pacing, "Until finally the order arrives and you can remove your items from the shulker box." 

He stares up at Mumbo, hoping that he looks as confused as he feels. When Mumbo merely shrugs he looks towards the other person who asks, "Better now?" 

"Yeah, what the fuck was all that?" He questions, ignoring how raspy his voice sounds.

Mumbo looks at him like he’s the one making up words, "The panic attack or the redstone?" 

"You were talking about redstone!?" He can’t help but squawk.

"Yeah?" Robot eye hesitantly answers.

Everyday he is just a little bit closer to losing his mind like Wilbur did, "What the fuck."

The conversation forcibly switches topics when Robot eye suddenly points at him and declares, "Oh wait you're that Tommy kid!" 

"I'm not a kid!" He instinctively bites back before he realizes what was just said and pauses for a moment. He never told these people his name, "But my name is Tommy, how did you know that?"

"Dude we've met before, remember MCC?" Does he remember what now?

"What's MCC?" He asks confusedly. Why were these two saying fake words at him? Wasn’t it enough that he had a panic attack? 

"Minecraft Championships, run by Noxcrew? If you don't remember me then surely you remember False and Ren right?" Robot Eye person presses. The other two share a concerned look and he feels like he’s missing out on some inside joke. 

"Um.. You sure are saying words to me…" He tries to laugh it off but it really doesn’t work. He sure hopes he’s not supposed to remember these people.

"You're joking." Robot eye states and maybe he flinches a little at that.

"Uh…" He looks between the two of them trying to grasp any sort of name from his memory but he's only coming up with a whole lotta nothing. 

Mumbo awkwardly clears his throat, "Iskall I don't think he's joking."

They all sit there in the weird silence where the air hangs heavier than when he was in the middle of the panic attack. He realizes that his hand is still awkwardly held out against Iskall’s chest where he can still feel the other’s heartbeat. He bites the inside of his cheek, trying to push past the uncomfortable weirdness that he feels because everyone is going to be aware of what he’s doing and focus on him again at the movement. When he finally works up the courage to do so its right as Mumbo says, “We should probably tell the others you’re here.”

Immediately his world seems to darken at the edges of his vision. There’s hands on his shoulders and his eyes snap open, when did he even close them?, to see Iskall looking at him with concern, "Tommy, Tommy just breathe. It's to let Xisuma know you're safe. He becomes a mother hen when he's worried."

He nods weakly, trying to remember how to breath again. He hates this. Hates feeling like this. Hates having to rely on others for something so stupid. His breathing stutters to a more even pattern slowly. Mumbo holds up his communicator which is open to a private chat with Xisuma, "I'll even send a private message to Xisuma, do you want to watch me do it?"

He doesn’t understand why these two are being so kind to him. But he does want to watch Mumbo message Xisuma. Because even if they were nice to him, he still couldn’t trust them. He watches the messages pop up over Mumbo’s shoulder from where the man shifts to sit down next to him against whatever building is at his back.

MumboJumbo: Hey X, me and Iskall found your lost guest. We're probably taking him back to the jungle for a bit. 

He wonders what the jungle is aside from being a biome. Is that where these two live? He is thankful that wherever it is, its somewhere out of this shopping district.

Xisumavoid: Oh thank goodness you have him, is he okay? 

He feels bad for making Xisuma worry. Why does he always mess everything up? 

MumboJumbo: He's physically unharmed and a little shaken up still but he's okay

Xisumavoid: Okay? Why don't I believe that? 

MumboJumbo: Iskall says to remember the fifth? What does that mean? 

Xisumavoid: Tell Iskall I want to talk to him later but otherwise I'll leave Tommy in your hands. Thanks, you two. 

He can’t help but feel even worse at Xisuma’s trust. He has to clear his throat but he manages to rasp out, “Te- tell him I said hi. And, and that I’m sorry.”

MumboJumbo: Sounds good, Tommy says hi and sorry by the way. 

Xisumavoid: There's nothing to be sorry for Tommy, but hello back :P

MumboJumbo: :P

He zones out for most of the trip wherever they take him. The jungle right? It's only when he blindly stumbles into Iskall's back for a third time in the nether that he's forced into a piggyback ride. He passes out before they even leave the nether. Maybe letting other people help him is okay, just this once.

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 1.6K~

Summary: The question— incomplete, and yet bursting with long-held curiosity— emerges from thin air while he’s about to tuck Steven into bed in the back of the van one night.

In retrospect, no parenting book could’ve ever prepared him for this one.

A Greg and Steven focused fic, set when Steven is freshly four. This is one of those I had on the poll a month or so back, ahah! Finally finished it. Apologies for the wait. The good news is that my list is now whittled down to three non-Crack the Paragon WIPS! Woo! That’s rather exciting.

There’s some brief meta rambles on the AO3 version. If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

____

“Where’s yours, Daddy?”

The question— incomplete, and yet bursting with long-held curiosity— emerges from thin air while he’s about to tuck Steven into bed in the back of the van one night.

In retrospect, no parenting book could’ve ever prepared him for this one.

“My...?” Smiling encouragingly, he lets the word dangle unfinished in the air for a moment, and gestures to try and prompt the little tyke to continue. “My what, kiddo? My... pajamas?” he says, pointing towards each item his kid bears in succession. “My... stuffed tiger? My very own... tickle monster?!”

In the spirit of good-hearted mischief, Greg tousles his boy’s dark, flyaway curls. When he then moves his hands to tickle his sides, Steven breaks into delighted peals of laughter, squirming nonstop.

“Noooooo,” he giggles breathlessly, batting his small pudgy hands at him to stop the affectionate onslaught. “No tickles, your gem! Like mine! You ‘aven’t never showed it.”

In an instant, the small universe encapsulated inside their van freezes, and he goes momentarily slack-jawed as he struggles to process the words that just came out of his son’s mouth.

“My- w-where’s my gem?”

He lets out a low chuckle at the absurd thought— imagine that, him, having a gem of his own! Where on Earth did his kid acquire this notion? And then... his memory can’t help but drift back to a few hours earlier, when Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl spent a mission-free day with Steven on the beach, surrounded by all manners of summer tourists. Humans coexisting amongst Gems, most entirely nonplussed by their otherworldly appearances. Steven was eagerly padding across the shore in his brand new swim trunks— the pair he received for his birthday just a week ago— the quartz gem at his navel on proud display. Midway through the afternoon, though, the kiddo seemed to become strangely preoccupied by all the human beachgoers. He’d glance at people’s faces, their sternums, their exposed navels, and then scowl in confusion. At one point he excitedly ran up to a dark skinned young woman with hair like Garnet’s to give her a high-five, and returned puzzled, his lips pressed in a thin line. At the time, Greg didn’t understand what all of his bewildered, curious gawking was about, and quietly instructed him not to bother other people. But now, given this latest comment, a theory builds in his mind... oh stars, was he looking for their gems?

Did he somehow assume both from his own and from his frequency of interaction with Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl that everyone had one hidden somewhere?

Swallowing, he deliberately makes it a point to mask his nervousness about this topic in front of his impressionable four-year-old child as best he can. Oh, boy. They haven’t had this sort of conversation yet. He always kinda feared it was coming, coursing towards him like a tidal wave faster and faster with each passing moment, but never in a million years did he imagine this moment would be tonight. And now, his tongue dry as a stone in his mouth, he finds himself at a complete loss for words. As best he knows, there’s no one else even remotely like Steven in the entire universe. How does one even convey this concept to their child in terms they’d understand?

Because even if he— ignoring the rose quartz gemstone embedded flush with his skin where a typical kid’s belly button would be— looks the part, Steven isn’t human. That much is obvious. That’s simply a fact. Humans don’t glow as babies. They don’t grow so ramrod still while sleeping that they appear like they’re not breathing at all. They can’t casually lift double their body weight at the tender age of four. Not to mention, in all his years of life thus far, he’s never gotten sick. Never gotten a scrape or cut that didn’t heal up completely in less than an hour. Not once. There’s no way that’s by mere coincidence, Greg muses, there’s gotta be another reason. He’s gotta have some sort of mega-boosted immune system or something, or magically healing cells. No branch of human science can successfully justify the alien nuances of his son’s existence. He just... is. He’s a walking miracle, the light of his life.

Steven’s never been a normal child, that’s for sure.

But how is a father supposed to lovingly and sensitively explain this to innocent ears?

“I, erm- I don’t have one of those, bud,” he says slow, still desperately sorting through his thoughts to figure out what else to say about this.

The kid stubbornly wriggles free from his arms, lifting up the bottom hem of his baggy pajama shirt to showcase the glittering pink gemstone resting at the center of his belly. “But I got one, an’ Amethyst an’ Pearl got one, an’ Garnet, she- guess what,” he says in an attempt at a whisper, wide eyed as if he’s about to impart some sacred knowledge. “She even got two gems!”

“That’s right, she does have two gems!” he nods, only barely holding back his chuckle at the hilarious solemnity of his kid’s proclamation. “But Steven, not everyone has ‘em like you and them. It’s something unique to the four of you. Y’see, they are Gems, just like me and everyone else in town are humans. It’s, um—“ his speech falters as he struggles to find words someone so young could possibly begin to understand— “it’s sorta just who they are.”

The corners of Steven’s mouth turn downwards in an exaggerated pout, and it’s immediately obvious that this blind, clumsy attempt at an explanation didn’t satisfy him one bit. Greg leans back against the inner siding of the van, gently tugging at a strand of his hair as he scours his mind for any potential solutions to this parenting quandary.

Think, think, think... How does one connect this topic to things such a young kid might understand?

“Listen, uh...” he begins again, marked hesitation tinting his voice. “Pearl’s been teaching you about bugs lately, right?”

However, if Steven— bless his heart— happened to notice his heightened nervousness, he sure doesn’t let it show on his face, instead enthusiastically jumping to answer his question.

“Uh-huh!” he nods, and then proceeds to happily babble about what he’s learned, flapping his hands in front of him as he does so. “She tells me all about bumble bees an’ stick bugs, an’ these...” His brow creases as he pauses, combing his memory for the right words. “...fuzzy worms? But they aren’t worms, ‘cause they sleep for really super long and then, then they get wings and fly away!”

He can’t help but smile at his son’s animation about this subject. He soaks up knowledge like a sponge, that’s for sure. Between Pearl and him, they’ve been trying to introduce him to some of the basics lately, stuff kids his age should know. Like reading, and writing, and counting, and music, and basic science. Pearl does the math and science, (those classes were never his wheelhouse in school), and he takes care of everything else. Given, erm... given their kinda strained history, they don’t exactly collaborate on lesson plans, but so far the arrangement seems to be working out okay. Steven’s having fun, at least, which is all that matters in the end.

“Oooh, caterpillars and butterflies, huh?” he says, reaching for the thick blanket folded up against the side wall of the van. “Well, y’wanna learn a cool new thing?”

His son bobs his head, his eyes glittering.

“All those bugs you named?” he begins, unfolding the blanket for the two of them as he goes. “They’re each types of completely different creatures, or, different species, we call ‘em. And humans and Gems, they’re types of species too. And every species has something that makes them unique, different from everything else. You know how all those bugs have special things the others don’t have, like the bumble bees and their stripes, and those caterpillars’ fuzz?”

“Yeah!”

“Well, that’s what it’s like for humans and Gems, too! Garnet and Amethyst and Pearl and you, you all have gemstones, just like yours right here,” he says, tapping a gentle finger over the rose quartz embedded at his midsection. Steven lets out a small giggle at the contact. “That’s your special thing as Gems, something humans don’t have.”

“What’ve humans have?” he asks in curiosity, tilting his head.

Greg purses his lips, his fingers subconsciously massaging the blanket’s rough, time-worn surface as he considers the elements that— from personal experience— he’d consider essential to human life. “Hmm. Well, let’s see... I guess... humans eat, and sleep, and grow from babies all the way until they’re adults. Gems don’t age. They don’t really... do any of that.”

“But I can do that!” he whines, brows creasing.

“Hm?”

“I thought you jus’ said I’m a Gem?”

Greg’s breath stills upon the deliverance of this pointed question, spoken with such youthful innocence, and yet wholly capable of penetrating through every layer of his ill-formed logic. He swallows hard. Once again, he is not prepared. He likely never could be.

His son... oh, his beloved Steven. Without meaning to, he keeps ignoring the inherent humanity that sets this boy apart from the rest of the Gems. He’s similar to them in many respects, yes, but he’s also not. He’s both, but...

He’s also neither.

He’s unique from everyone, his own thing altogether. Something entirely new.

Quite honestly, the best word he can grasp at to describe him is hybrid.

And while at this present moment he has no idea if he’s doing his son a disservice, othering him from the rest of humanity at such a tender age, he figures that he at least deserves to know the truth.

“You’re kinda- uh, both, at once, actually,” he clarifies, these very words acting as a beacon to clarify a wide range of once deep-seeded assumptions in his mind. “Gem and human. You’ve got special things from both sides, how funky is that?”

“Huh.” Steven mulls this new information over, and then flashes a toothy grin. “That's cool!”

[writingbakery]

“what’s new, pussycat?”

this work is my absolute pride & joy, one that i hold very near & dear to my heart! it was previously written for a different fandom, & ive reworked it to fit here. i hope you love it as much as i do, & yes - there will be more parts to this story! ✨taglist; @katsukisprincess @secondhand-trash @redbeanteax @monst @shinhoetoshi @shinsouzone @togasknifes

[pairing; panther familiar! hitoshi shinso x green witch gn! reader]

[warnings; fluff, meet-cutes, magical au, bitchy witches, soft words, strangers to lovers]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

for a green witch in a relatively small town, you’ve got a pretty good life.

you’re not the most powerful witch around; your talents are more centered around healing, crafting potions & spells, but you don’t mind. you like helping people, whisking away their problems & leaving them happier than when they walked into your little shop.

your shop is perfectly situated right at the forest line at the end of town, making it easy for you to restock your supply. you don’t get many customers, but you treat everyone like they’re most important, focusing on what they need & providing them with just what they’ve asked for. you don’t have many friends, most of the other witches not thinking much of your talents or your profession - they were all more modern witches, using electricity & technology to help others - but the ones you do have treat you nothing but kindly.

you’ve got everything you need in your little shop; a tiny apartment just above it, a loyal customer base, & the forest to soothe your worries.

the only thing you don’t have is a familiar.

you turned twenty six months ago, the age at which every witch receives their familiar. sometimes, it happens sooner, sometimes it takes a little longer. you’re just a hint impatient.

you’ve been ready for your familiar since your powers emerged at six years old, little flowers & vines bursting from chubby fingers & small palms. your friends even had a betting pool set up, sero swearing that you would get a kitty cat, & kirishima insisting it would be a rabbit.

you don’t care what your familiar is. you just want to meet them.

you’ve nagged your mother more than enough over the years, whining & complaining at your lack of a companion - both the animal aspect of them, & the human. familiars often became their witches’ best friends, & on most occasions, have fallen in love with them.

it’s a romantic concept, really. two magical beings, tied together forever by their shared powers, falling in love.

you’ve had dreams about it. kaminari makes fun of you for it whenever he can.

still, you don’t need to fall in love with your familiar. you love them already for supporting & adding to your magic, even if you haven’t met yet. you just know you’re going to be the best of friends.

you also side with sero. you’re definitely hoping for a kitty.

you alway tell your friends you don’t mind being patient, but secretly, you wish your familiar would speed things up a bit.

the other witches in town don’t tease you outright, a bit more poised than that, but you’ve heard more than enough whispered giggles of “bet it’s a fly, & it just can’t find them” & “maybe [y/n]’s just too weak for one”. you know they consider you a joke, a laughingstock, but you do your best to ignore them, burying your head in your spellbooks & inventing new potion strains.

you’re good at what you do, & that’s all that matters. but with a familiar, at least you’d fit in. you’re not expecting anything huge, not like the wolf inasa got, or the pheonix momo was gifted. you just want something that’ll care for you, help with your little tasks & fill the hole in your heart.

you even have a little side room set up in your shop for them, complete with a small fluffy bed & lots of pillows. kaminari had wrinkled his nose at the setup. “what if they don’t like all the fluff?” he’d asked - his familiar, an overexcited ring tailed lemur named mina, had absolutely destroyed the setup kaminari made for her, choosing to snuggle the taller witch in her human form every night. you had a separate betting pool with kirishima & bakugou about when those two would finally start dating.

mostly, you just hope your familiar won’t be disappointed with you. you aren’t the fastest on a broomstick, or the smartest with spells. your potions are good, but they take you a while to brew, & you don’t get that many customers. you’re definitely not the best witch in town, but you try your best, & you hope that counts for something.

it ends up counting for a lot, even if you don’t realize.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you’re looking through your little vials & plants one day, crafting a rejuvenation potion for mrs. parks - she’s got a garden to maintain if she wants to win first place in the landscaping competition next week, & at 85 it doesn’t always come naturally - when you realize you’re clean out of starflower. the pretty little orange & yellow foliage always added an extra boost to your energy potions, & you chance a glance out of your shop windows. it’s a nice day, sunny but not too hot, & you easily tug on your jacket & basket to gather some from the forest.

the air is warm, floaty with the smell of spring & you bask in the pleasant heat of the sun as you walk. the forest is unusually quiet, a sort of energetic thrum hovering just under the surface & normally, you would be concerned. but the day is so lovely, the warmth seeping into your bones & you brush it off as a slight imbalance in the woods.

you find the right clearing relatively quickly, sitting cross legged amidst the flowers & beginning to pluck them. you coo to the brightly colored petals gently, asking them to feel safe, protected. you wouldn’t hurt them, nor waste them unnecessarily. they were headed to a good purpose, & you reassure them as such as they make their way into your basket.

the already quiet air stills suddenly, birds silent in the trees & leaves pausing their ruffling. you shut your eyes & soaks up the sudden silence, an odd sense of calm settling over your body before you open them again.

a pair of amethyst violet eyes stare back at you, barely ten feet away from your face.

you open your mouth to scream, but let out nothing but air; your breath seems caught in your throat, lodged painfully deep. the creature in front of you is still, black fur gleaming glossy in the afternoon sun - a panther, twice the size of any normal big cat, sharp fangs glinting in its large mouth. you just stare, frozen & wide eyed.

the panther tilts its head at you inquisitively, letting out a sharp exhale through its velvety - almost cute? - black nose. you do scream this time, a barely there squeak that youd defend to your dying day as a very aggressive yell.

& then you pass clean out, slumping to the cool forest floor.

above you, the panther simply snorts, rolling bright purple eyes in mild annoyance as it curls its lithe form around your unconscious body, settling in for a nap.

it protects you from harm, patiently waiting for you to wake up.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you wake up confused & a little dizzy.

you’ve only been out about an hour, but already the sun sits lower in the sky, a chill sweeping through the quiet wood. you’re disoriented, taking a few moments to remember where you are, & why. youre warm despite the cool forest air, body swathed in silky softness. you burrow deeper into the warmth, sighing softly as you toe the line between sleep & awake.

then you remember the panther.

shooting straight up from the dirt, you look around wildly, all traces of sleepiness gone as you take in your surroundings.

the panther lays curled around you like a warm blanket, keeping you tucked up against its shoulder with massive black paws crossed in front of your legs. it’s fast asleep, not even stirring as you shift a little to study its face.

gold runes run from the tips of each large, silky ear, trailing down either side of its face to its long whiskers. each rune matches one on your own arms, elegantly winding down your smooth skin. a little flutter settles in your chest.

this is your familiar.

you run one slim finger down the sides of the panther’s sleeping face, gentle & light as you trace over the marks that mirror the ones you’ve had since birth. it’s a little nerve wracking, a little unreal.

you’re so awestruck you don’t feel a pair of sharp violet eyes tracking your every move, looking just a little fond.

you start a little when the panther stretches, long heavy limbs arcing out into the air as it yawns. you get a good eyeful of sharp, gleaming white fangs & an impossibly cute pink tongue before the panther is staring at you again, seemingly waiting for your next move.

oh right.

hastily clambering to your feet, you stand in front of the lying animal, just about level with its head. you swallow a little nervously, shifting from foot to foot as you look up into bright, curious eyes.

“a-are you my familiar?” you ask, immediately cursing yourself for stammering & asking stupid questions. you’re supposed to have your shit together, you’re the witch here.

the panther seems unfazed, if not a little amused, as it nods once, then twice, eyes twinkling in the sunlight. your own eye twitches.

you’ve got a familiar. a panther familiar. you, [y/n l/n], who can’t fly a broomstick straight & nearly burnt down your shop crafting a potion last week.

suddenly everything seems a whole lot less simple than it was before.

bracing your hands against your knees to catch your breath, you let your mind go wild, running through a million thoughts at once. what would the other witches say? what would your friends say? how the fuck was this panther going to fit inside your house?

you don’t have a single answer for any of them that won’t send you into a panic.

your stomach ends up deciding for you, the low rumble of it breaking the tense silence. the panther actually does roll its eyes at you this time, standing to its full - very, very tall height & moving to kneel at your side. it motions towards its back a little impatiently, & you scramble to climb on.

you can feel lean, powerful muscle underneath you as the panther begins to walk through the forest, quickly shifting through the underbrush towards town.

it’s much quicker than you walking on your own, & you appreciate that.

you know you’re going to get plenty of stares once you hit town, & you’ve already got a plan set: make it through quickly, avoid questions, & once you’ve got the both of you locked up in your shop, the panther can shift to its human form & introduce themselves. simple.

the second you step foot - & paw - into the town, you know you’re screwed.

all of the townsfolk are staring wide eyed, giving the pair of you a very wide berth as the panther trots along the street. hushed whispers are already circulating, & you can feel endless sets of eyes digging into your back.

just a couple more feet, a few more moments. then we’ll be safe, you think as your shop comes into view, breathing a quiet sigh of relief. you slide down off the panthers back to unlock the door & usher it in, locking it behind you both with another relieved sigh. you relax too soon.

there, in your kitchen, sit sero & kirishima, both gaping as they stare at the massive panther in your foyer. sero’s got a teapot in one hand, the other cupping the air - a shattered mug at his feet.

“we came for tea,” kirishima squeaks. sero is dumbfounded where he stands. the panther huffs unamused, tail flicking & breaking one of the china plates along the wall.

you sink to the floor in despair.

what the fuck, is all you can think, burying your head in your hands.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

your friends take it all in surprisingly well. sero sweeps up the shattered mug & dish, kirishima makes them all tea, & you have a mild panic attack.

the panther simply curls up in a corner of the shop, avoiding everything delicate as it takes up a good chunk of the space. kirishima can’t stop staring at it, eyes blown wide as he takes in every inch of the creature.

“it’s really yours? your familiar?” he’d asked, voice hushed. you swatted at his arm with a scowl, glancing over at the uninterested panther. “stop talking about it like it’s not here! you know it can hear you.”

truthfully, however, you don’t even think the panther is listening. it has an air of disinterest clouded around it, lazily examining its paws & twitching its whiskers every so often.

sero maintains that he won the bet, much to your chagrin. “it’s just a really big cat!” he insists. kirishima simply rolls his eyes & tells him to take it up with bakugou.

it takes an hour or two, but eventually you manage to shoo your friends out of your shop, a headache building at their incessant questioning - “so what's its name? boy or girl? did it try to eat you? why is it looking at me like that?” - & all you want to do is sleep.

you lead the panther to the small side room you’d dolled up, albeit for a much smaller animal, wincing at the judgemental look you receive in return. “right, that won’t work. i mean, you could stay in my bed? it’s really big, just a bunch of cushions & blankets on a floor mattress?” you offer, twisting your fingers in your shirt a little shyly. the panther pauses, then nods again, squeezing its massive frame through the narrow staircase to follow you upstairs.

your bed - a custom made mattress that spanned nearly across the entirety of your bedroom floor - seemed to accommodate the panther just fine, and it paced around once, twice, before settling in one corner of it. its lithe form took up a good two thirds of the mess of blankets, & you can’t help but coo at the sight. it really was just a big kitty cat, although you’d probably never say it to the creature’s face.

you busy yourself with getting ready for bed, washing your face, brushing your teeth & changing into your baggy blue silk pajamas - they’ve got little yellow crescent moons sewn into them, & you swear the panther laughs at you in them - before settling between the sheets.

“goodnight, mr. panther,” you mumble sleepily, silently hoping that things would be easier to fix in the morning before drifting off to dreams.

above you, the panther huffs a little fondly, nuzzling your soft little cheek before falling asleep as well.

—

the next few days aren’t any easier.

for one, you’re swamped with customers for the first time ever, people crowding into the tiny shop to catch a glimpse of the enormous panther curled up in the corner. normally you wouldn’t allow it, but the panther doesn’t seem to mind, & everyone who walks in leaves with something - you’re making a killing.

another little problem: the arrival of your - rather powerful - familiar means your own abilities have gotten a much needed boost. everything you make is soaked in energy, & your plants are shooting towards the ceiling every other hour.

in short, you’re probably the most powerful nature witch in the country, let alone the county.

you appreciate the fact that you’re better at what you do, but it tires you out quicker, & you’re twice as busy now that you can do so much.

all of this would be reasonably manageable, if your familiar wasn’t still stuck in its animal form.

the panther’s refused to shift for the entirety of the time you’ve known it, staying in its animal form in the corner of the shop. it simply watches & observes, occasionally nudging the right vial or plant closer to you with its large black nose. it’s a cute sight, the little nature witch bustling around the shop in your emerald green robes, a huge black panther tracking your every move with a fond expression. you’ve started to get comfortable around it as well, but you would like to get to know it eventually, & you enlist kirishima’s help.

the more experienced witch drops by with an old history book one afternoon when you aren’t as busy, the pair of you sitting at the table to read up on familiars.

“it says here familiars usually shift within the first day of meeting their witch,” kiri reads from the book, squinting at the tiny text. you had shooed the panther into the garden so you could talk uninterrupted, & you watch as the large creature nips at the butterflies circling its head. it makes you smile, heart a little fond at the sight.

“it’s been almost a week, kiri,” you pout, looking up at the witch in concern. maybe it's not comfortable with me yet, you add in your head. your stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought.

kirishima, seemingly sensing your worry, ruffles a hand through your hair, a reassuring smile on his face.

“don’t worry, [y/n]. i’m sure they’re still getting used to being here with you,” the taller comforts you. “just give it a little time.”

watching as your familiar tramples your hydrangeas, looking up at the window with a guilty expression on its face, you can only sigh.

“i hope you’re right.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

nearly two months later, you’re starting to doubt kirishima’s advice.

your familiar still hasn’t shifted in front of you, although you’ve got a sneaking suspicion it does while you’re asleep, a smattering of all black clothes hidden in random corners of his shop.

you still know absolutely nothing about them, every question you throw at the panther met with unblinking silence. but the panther knows all about you.

it knows which tea you prefer in the morning & evening, nudging out the right canisters with one massive paw. it knows every plant in your shop & garden, delicately ripping out whichever ones you need with sharp fangs. it knows to growl when a potion is boiling over, or huff when a customer is at the door. it even ran off a few thieves a week ago, snarling with its hackles raised at the foot of the stairs as they screamed & ran. you had given it an hour long head massage, complete with ear scratches, as a thank you.

the panther has settled itself in your shop & your life almost perfectly, a constant presence that you’ve grown fond of. but it doesn’t change the fact that they still haven’t revealed themselves to you. you feel like this relationship is ridiculously imbalanced; the panther knows you inside & out. you don’t even know their name.

still, you push down any doubt or insecurities you’re feeling, determined to let the panther come to you in your own time.

the mayor’s birthday changes all of that.

the mayor always requests a grand celebration, complete with magical fireworks, charmed balloons, singing lilies, & a three tier magical cake. normally, he only requests singing lilies & roses from you.

this year, you get a golden invoice for everything.

the mayor wants you to craft the cake, enchant the balloons & streamers, gather the singing flowers, and charm the fireworks, all in less than two days. you immediately break into a sweat.

you can’t ask your friends for help, as they’re tied up in their own town’s festivities. your only choice is to get the other witches’ in town; surely they’d help with the mayor’s birthday celebration.

surely not. they laugh you away from their shops the moment you ask, a pleading expression on your face.

“you shouldn’t need help, little dirt witch. you’ve got that powerful familiar of yours, don’t you? unless you can’t handle it,” they mock you, & your fists clench unwillingly; you force yourself to breathe.

you don’t need their help, or their disdain. you’re going to do it all by yourself.

you start with the flowers, collecting the brightest & loudest singers from your garden & placing them in charmed rainwater to keep them pristine. the panther helps where it can, delicately holding them between its fangs.

enchanting the streamers & balloons takes the better part of the day, & you’re up late into the night crafting the fireworks the right way. you fall asleep in a spellbook, the cake left forgotten till the morning. the panther simply rests its head next to yours on the table, the pair of you fast asleep until the next day.

when you wake up, the birds are chirping steadily outside, sunlight filtering in through the windows. it’s calm & soothing, & for a moment you’re at peace.

then you see the time, panic immediately setting in.

“wake up! wake up! i have to have the cake ready in four hours! it’s going to take me three just to mix the batter!” you’re running around the shop in a flurry of robes & quick spells, arms full of supplies. the panther just watches from its position on the floor, eyebrow quirked.

you’re halfway through mixing the batter when you realize you won’t finish in time.

you can’t focus on charming all three tiers at once as he mixes, but if you do them one by one you won’t finish in time. you pause, turning desperate eyes onto the panther.

“i know you’re not ready, & i didn’t want to push, but please. i need your help,” you plead. hands clasped in front of you & flour in your hair. the panther continues to stare, unmoving, as though immune to your begging.

it’s too much all at once, stress & anxiety building until you snap.

“why not! why! i get it! i understand you’re disappointed! i’m not some high tech witch in a big city, i’m not powerful! i’m weak & i suck & i can’t brew potions fast without blowing them up & i fell off my broomstick in the garden & you saw, i know! i just need help, for god’s sake! just help me, & you don’t ever have to talk to me again!” you promise, eyes watery as you burst into tears.

dropping your head into your hands to muffle your sobs, you barely register the faint whirling of air in front of you.

hands suddenly flutter over your crying form, hovering just above touching you as a low, rough voice pulls you from your misery.

“please stop crying, shit, please, i’m sorry, i swear i didn’t mean to make you cry, fuck,” you hear, & you tilt your head up, rubbing tears from your eyes.

there’s a man standing in front of you, wearing all black. he’s got messy purple hair sticking up from all sides & dark eyes, a hint of violet flashing through them in the light. there’s circles as dark as his clothes under his eyes, a familiar look on his face - like you’d seen it every morning waking up.

this ridiculously handsome man, looking slightly panicked, is your familiar. every time you’d called him a “pretty kitty” suddenly flashes through your mind.

fuck.

pushing all those thoughts to the back of your mind, you straighten up, hastily wiping your eyes on your robe sleeves. “can you stir the second pot, please? i’ll worry about the other ones,” you ask meekly, a little embarrassed now. you ignore the familiar’s prying gaze, simply muttering spells under your breath as you stir the first mixture.

the pair of you don’t speak unless it’s instructions, racing around the tiny shop to craft the magical cake. flour & sugar & icing cover every available surface as you wave your hands, whisking it all over the towering cake. you struggle a little to reach the very top, on your tiptoes as you attempt to frost the highest tier. warm, strong hands grip your waist & lift you right off the ground, holding you up to help; you blush furiously as you quickly finish.

you’re just putting the final smattering of glitter onto the cake when the mayor’s party attendants arrive to collect it. you can finally breathe as you watch them carry off everything you both had made, shoulders sagging in relief.

your familiar leans against the counter, wiping down the tables with a rag as he watches you. now that everything’s been finished, there’s no avoiding it.

“i’m hitoshi. that’s my name,” the panther - hitoshi - offers, presumably sensing your nerves. “& for the record, i think you’re a great witch. youre powerful all on your own, even without me.”

you can’t help your smile at that, a little flush to your cheeks as you sit at the table. “then.. then why didn’t you shift?” you ask softly. up close, you can see tiny freckles in place of hitoshi’s whiskers, the glossiness of his hair reminiscent of his panther fur.

the familiar shrugs, cheeks going a bit pink themselves as he stares at the table. “at first, i was just a little shy. it’s nerve wracking, meeting your witch. & then you just… passed out, you know? i was worried about how you’d react, so i decided to give you time.” you can understand that, listening closely.

“you were so nice to me, you weren’t scared at all. you scratched behind my ears & made me cleansing potions. & you let me stay in your bed, so easily. you were just…. nicer than i expected. and…. and prettier.” the familiar’s cheeks are a rosy red now, bright in contrast to his soft skin & prominent dark circles. you think it’s adorable.

“i just didn’t want you to think any different of me, you know? you liked panther me a lot, even though i kept breaking stuff, &.... i wanted you to keep liking me.” you outright coo at that, ignoring your familiar’s protests as you dissolve into giggles.

“really? of course i’d still like you, silly! i let you cuddle me! i called you mr whiskers for a solid month! oh god, i called you mr whiskers,” you whine, pouting a little. you’d called hitoshi a bunch of silly nicknames before he’d shifted, from pretty kitty to mr whiskers to sugarpaws. you’d been trying to compensate, in your defense, & hitoshi had seemed to like them.

hitoshi’s the one laughing now, smile bright as he gives you that same fond look. “it was cute. you were trying really hard,” he admits, head cocked to the side as he watches you.

you sit in a comfortable sort of silence then, simply taking in each other’s presence a moment.

“so, you thought i was pretty, huh?” you tease, breaking the silence as you move to stand in front of hitoshi. you giggle more at the flush that follows, ignoring hitoshi’s mumbling rant about “soft little witches” & “green robes & moon pajamas, that's ridiculous”, your smile growing ever wider.

you tap a finger against hitoshi’s nose, the familiar protesting in flustered panic. standing on tiptoe, you press a light kiss to the cranberry stained cheek, watching hitoshi absolutely melt.

“i thought you were cute too, pretty kitty,” you smile, turning to tidy up the pots & spellbooks & leaving an awestruck hitoshi at the table, hand frozen where you had pressed your lips.

i could get used to that, you think, giggling as hitoshi trips over himself to squish you against the counter, covering your face in kisses.

just you, your shop, & one pretty kitty.

[katsuflossy]

Could I get a Bakugo x Reader where the Mina convinces the reader to avoid Bakugo for a day to make "the heart grow fonder" and when Bakugo finds out he goes off on Mina, takes the reader to his room and gets super clingy? If that makes any sense at all

The Heart Grows Fonder...Even if Mina has to Force it.

A/N: Hiii. Thanks for being my first ask! I really appreciate it💕💕 And it made total sense to me. Hope you like it!

Pairing: Bakugo x reader

Taglist: @sunset-novice-writer @goatsenpaiultimate (if you want to be added to my tl, just message me!)

“I mean it’s not that hard for someone to hold your hand or give encouragement without a shitload of insults before AND after those affections. Like, you’re his GIRLFRIEND. For Christ’s sake.” Mina paced around your dorm, avoiding the little hut she made on the ground for your frequent study sessions. Those study sessions lead up to what she calls ‘Teatime with Mina’ and the show was currently running. 

She always gets better grades when studying with Bakugo but that’s beside the point.

“Mina, I knew what I signed up for and it’s okay, he doesn’t usually mean-” She cut you off with a palm to the face, already knowing the recycled excuses you were about to give. “It doesn’t excuse the fact that he’s been being extra moody to you but hanging out with Eiji all day!” Your shoulders drooped at the truth; her words sounding little insecurities you shoved at the back of your mind. He has been distant and more irate lately, most letting all the smoke out on Midoriya and leaving a little heat for you. But, towards you, it was mostly the cold char and ash as if he was too moody to speak to you properly but still able to spit out a few embers 

And Mina had enough of it.

“(Y/n), for the last week we had this same talk, and nothing gets changed. We need to teach him a lesson: that Class 1A’s sweetheart will not take this cold bad boy persona anymore, that’s like, soo 3 years ago.” Hesitation circled within your head. It would be a lie if you did not want your boyfriend to at least be a little bit more affectionate but this was Mina’s plan, and her plans were not known for leaving Bakugo a happier man. You had two options: Hope that your ox of a boyfriend has a change of heart and starts giving you more attention or go on Mina’s suicide mission. 

The chances were more favorable with Mina’s, even if it was risky.

The next morning, Mina’s operation, The Heart Grows Fonder, took off full steam. You sighed and rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you walked out of your dorm 15 minutes before the actual time Bakugo would bang on the door yelling at you to get the fuck up. Mina made sure to text all the guidelines of the operation, even emergency steps for when Bakugo does something dangerous, call it “Atomic Blonde”.  Arriving at the living room, you met with Tenya conversing with Midoriya, possibly about their work study. With a nod to the other few students in the lounge, you greet the two. 

“Goodmorning (Y/n), you’re awfully early this morning. Where’s Kacchan? He’s usually with you.” Midoriya surveyed the area to make sure he was not mistaken. You mentally cursed at how known it is that Kastuki has to wake you up in the morning because you’re a late riser. 

“Well, I’m trying to be more productive and get up earlier for the day.” Your poorly made excuse was enough for Tenya to take and change the conversation with. 

“That’s great (l/n). It’s amazing and very beneficial to wake up early in the morning to start the day out right with more energ-”

“(Y/N)! If you don’t open this fucking door right now I will blast it down!” The irate’s shouts could be heard from the floor above. The muffled threat was caught by everyone’s ears, eyes now turning their attention to you, who was sweating bullets from the idea of getting caught.

“Well I’ll take your word for it Tenya, I’ll even start jogging now!” and with that, you sped out of the building as the duo blinked at your figure in confusion. 

Bakugo did not make the day easy for you, not within the slightest. First, he blew up your phone ranging from concerns to curses to threats for not opening his messages and one apology written by Kirishima about your boyfriend’s crude behavior. Then he constantly glared at you in class every chance he got until Present Mic asked if he needed to go to the bathroom because his face was so screwed. Finally, he tried to corner you during paired practice to which “Atomic Blonde” had to shift into full gear. 

It was terrifying to see the blonde burst through the crowd with a villain hunch and a deadly aura spanning the room. A scream of your name had Uraraka grab your hand and nervously declare you as her partner before using her gravity-defying quirk to hightail the both of you out of the blonde’s way. The class simply observed the two girls floating away while Bakugo stayed on the ground, releasing his rage in a series of spitfires and curses.

Turns out,  all the girls knew of the operation. Thank Mina for implementing Code Atomic Blonde which involved the heroine troop of 1A.

But no one could rescue you this time.

As soon as practice ended, Uraraka got a message from Midoriya saying that he was at Recovery Girl injured and needed help. She left you promptly but not before hastily apologizing. Never mind it, you searched for Mina carefully, hoping not to encounter the raging bull who was targeting you. Approaching the exit, you checked each corner before stepping out into the open, only to be pulled back into the practice room. The air forced out of your lungs as your back crashed against the wall, halting your movement due to the shock and the immediate pain. Two muscular arms caged your being in like prison bars and maroon eyes froze you on sight. A shadow cast above his brows and his lips pulled back in a ferocious snarl.

The bull got you.

“Are you fucking kidding me (Y/n)?!” The dynamic of his vocals nearly burst your eardrums due to its loudness.

“W-what are you talking about Kastuki?” A nervous laughter escaped your lung attempting to diffuse the threatening and honestly scary atmosphere.

“Don’t play dumb with me right now. You really went along with Mina’s shit of a plan!” Oh, he was fuming. 

“Kastuki, I-”

“Don’t. say. anything.” His curt response shut you up immediately, too guilty to utter a word. He didn’t even look at you as he snatched your wrist, dragging your body to wherever he pleased.

“Kastuki! Where are we going?” But your question fell on stubborn ears as you were continuously tugged without question or. Soon, you find yourself on the Height Alliance grounds, stumbling up the stairs as Bakugo still had your hand in his grasp. The next minute his bed hits your back which was honestly sore from the first impact. Same arms caged in your head but a softer look froze you this time.

“I know Mina put you up for this stupid cold shoulder idea.”

“Wha- How?” 

“Mina told Denki, his short-fused brain couldn’t keep his mouth shut,” you sighed, already plotting revenge on Kaminari for breaking girl code. “So I took Deku’s phone so Round Face can fuck off.” His snarl deepens as the thought of Midoriya before returning to you.

“I can’t believe you followed her stupid prank.” Your own snarl branded your face now.

“It wasn’t a stupid prank. It was payback; you haven’t talked to me the whole week and if you did, you were always moody.” Two snarls stared at each other, competing for the surface area of each face until Bakugo scoffed and plopped over to your right, taking up the remaining area of the bed. His lithe body reached over to his bedside table before tossing a long, narrow black case to you. 

“Our 6 months anniversary is tomorrow and I didn’t know what to buy you or what you girls liked. So, I asked Shitty Hair and he’s been helping me this entire week so I could surprise you with something.” His eyes staring at his mattress, trying to hide the red blush brightening his face. Inside rested snuggly was a tennis bracelet with your favorite jewel. Your own face warming up at the gesture.

“Aw Bakugo...This is so nice.”

“Yeah, yeah tell that to the chewed up wad of gum. Handed her ass to her when Round Face to you for a flight.” His smirk branding on his face, proud of his victory before pulling you into his arms. His legs intertwined in your own as his hands spanned on your back, making no easy way for an escape. 

Not that you would.

Your head meets the slope of his neck, breathing in the light caramel scent naturally secreting from his skin. His head laid on top of yours as his hands massaged the sore areas of your back in a soundless apology.

“Bakugo, I’m sorry for ignoring you. I was just so lonely this week and I didn’t think of asking you if-”

“I know you’re sorry just...stay here.” The only sound made was the two of you breathing as you both lulled off to sleep.

Mission: Accomplished(?)

[arsonistvoyager]

A Jedi for a Clone ; Captain Rex x Reader

PART 2 HERE

pairing: Rex x Reader

Summary: Imagine you're Pong Krells former padawan, now freshly knighted jedi, and you feel hatred towards the clones, especially the 501st, and you get put on a mission with Anakin. The clones are all a little scared to get close to you but also feel a little guilty (because they're angels) since you saw Krell when he was still a good jedi and they feel like they took your parental figure. But then the more time you spend with them you realize what your master actually did

a/n: this is pretty much my first time writing anything remotely star wars x reader so whoever comes across this bear with me. i’m a stupid little beginner lol. 

“Is everyone ready?” 

“Yes, General, we expect the shuttle to arrive within the next 10 to 20 minutes.”

Anakin nodded as he looked over the cliffs that the 501st had set their temporary camp up on.

Arami was a planet located on the outer rim, not far from where Anakin had grown up, meaning barely outside of Hutt Space. 

It had not been long since separatist forces had invaded the sparsely populated planet and had begun to enslave its population – doing so right under the republics eyes. To provocate them into a fight, Anakin had thought when the council had brought up the news of yet another separatist invasion. To make it seem like the Republic was illegally occupying neutral worlds and forcing them onto their side. 

Anakin had known it was a set up from the very beginning, but the council had insisted that he take care of the problem. To be more specific, the council had sent Obi-Wan to give Anakin the orders, knowing of the connection the former padawan and master had and how Anakin was less likely to refuse the mission if it came from his almost-father figure. 

And of course Anakin did want to refuse. He despised being anywhere near Hutt-Space, more specifically, his old home world of Tatooine. Too many bad memories were connected to that place. In the end he reluctantly accepted. It would be a quick mission. The seperatists had supposedly not sent many of their droid forces. An easy task for the Jedi General. And it may or may not have been his deeply rooted hatred for the slave business that convinced him to take on this mission.

As he looked over the cliffs near the coasts of an Arami ocean he had to admit the planet was barely anything like the sandy, vast, emptiness of Tatooine.  If he closed his eyes and listened to the clash of waves he could almost pretend to be on the beautiful idyllic plateaus of Naboo, nobody but a certain senator by his side. 

The only thing ruining the beautiful scenery inside his head were the excited and anxious chatter of his men, his troopers, behind him. The council had sent Anakin and the five-oh-first without any aerial star destroyer support. Not even the senate, nor chancellor Palpatine had been notified of the decision. It was supposed to be a quiet secret between them and the Arami people they would rescue. 

The only other person assigned to the mission was another Jedi General. A senior padawan that had been knighted only months ago and Anakin and his men were about to meet her. 

Formerly Commander now General (Y/N) (L/N) had made a name for herself within the last two years of the war, not only by rising up in ranks and in the favor of many High Jedi of the Jedi Council but also in her skill of many force techniques and abilities as well as the success rate of her missions. 

Many civilians knew of her as a saviour, many jedi knew her as one of the top notch generals of the outer rim.  The clones however would only know her under one name.  Master Pong Krells Padawan. 

The shuttle had barely exited hyperspace and reached the Arami system when whispered rumors circulated around Anakins men.“Krells Padawan. She’s really coming.”

“Do you think she’s bringing a clone battalion with her?” “Nah I heard she doesn’t work with clones. Not ever since...Umbara, y’know.” “I heard she used to command several troops until she heard the news of the Generals death. I’ve heard she...slaughtered her own men in a fit of rage.” “Banthashit! Don’t listen to all the rumors you hear in 79’s, Echo.” “I swear it’s true!” “Did you guys know she wields two lightsabers?” Anakin could not block their voices out, as much as he tried. The force surrounding his men was practically shaking with their insecurity. He hated that they felt that way. And he hated himself for not being on Umbara when it happened to help his men. He regretted leaving his men in the care of that psychopath in the first place. But how should he have known? The regret clawed its way into his mind anyway. 

As for General (L/N)...She was not an unfamiliar face to him. In fact, because she was not far from his age, the two of them had often been in meditation and intergalactic geography classes together, as younglings. She had been nice to him. Helped him once with one of the questions when Master Mundi had asked him about the surface of Mon Cala and he had been too occupied with his daydream to realize he had been called upon. After whispering a quick “thanks” she had giggled in response, before focusing her attention back onto the Jedi Master. That was before Obi-Wan took him on his first mission, followed up by many more. As a result Anakin spent much less time  with the other younglings. Maybe he had seen her once or twice in the halls of the Jedi Temple, Anakin could not recall it. Had Master Krell been by her side? He didn’t know either. 

When Anakin had consoled his men after the nightmares of Umbara he had been more than surprised that many of the clones, Rex included, felt horrible for what they had done to the Jedi Master. Anakin at the time had thought it was due to their extensive training on Kamino, where they learned to obey their Generals under any circumstances. Only later had he found out someone had gone to his men and told them all about Pong Krell, his devotion to the Jedi Order and his kindness towards his fellow Jedi. 

And of course, about his very young Padawan. 

Anakin had wanted to console her as well, had wanted to check up on her to make sure she was alright after the horrible news reached him. He knew very well the feeling of guilt about not being able to do something about the death of someone beloved and how the darkness would very easily latch onto that feeling and devour it. The council forbade him to act.

Instead they sent him on another mission – far from Umbara – a small planet in the mid rim. Simple humanitarian acts. The council had probably thought they showed mercy and compassion. Bantha shit. 

The young General turned around as he received a message on his comlink. A trooper signaled him that the shuttle would land shortly. Anakin thanked him and started walking towards the landing area they had cleared up. As he walked past his men he noticed how they tensed up and muted.  As if their earlier “whispers” hadn’t been loud enough for the entire system to hear. He sighed and regarded them with an empathetic gaze before he made his way to the front. He hoped they knew what he meant by that. He understood their fears. 

The shuttle had settled on the ground and Anakin and several of his troopers watched as the ships ramp rolled out. Seconds later a figure emerged from the bright lights of the ships. There she stood, General (L/N), clad in dark jedi robes. She took less than a second to inspect her surroundings, looking the clones right into their eyes before her gaze fell upon the fellow Jedi General. With a strong, confident walk and a serious, stern expression she stepped down the ramp and made her way to Anakin, ignoring the soldiers saluting her arrival.   --- You felt the clones’ nervousness in the force the moment the ship had touched Arami grounds. Good. They should fear you. They should shake underneath their bright white armor. 

Blue. They had chosen blue to paint their generic armor. A pathetic attempt at individuality. Red would have been more fitting in your opinion. Had Master Krells red blood spilled on their neatly painted armor when they murdered him in cold blood? You had asked yourself the question numerous times. It still haunted you. 

Dozens of eyes fell on you and you resisted the urge to shoot them a glare, deadlier than the two blue lightsabers attached to your hips. The council had sent you of all people on this idiotic mission. And you knew you had more important missions to attend to – in the calmness and familiarity  of your own presence. Not surrounded by mindless clones. The killers of the kindest man you had known in your life, nonetheless. 

“General (L/N)”, Skywalkers voice sounded. “It’s a pleasure to have someone as talented as you here with me.”

You knew of Anakin Skywalker. The golden boy of the galactic war. In fact, you had idolized him before Umbara had happened. Of course you knew he had nothing to do with what had happened, as he had been deployed elsewhere at the time, just like you yourself had been. B ut the fact that he continued to work with jedi-killers had shocked you. How was he able to live with these men that had killed one of you? 

“As it is for me, General Skywalker.”, you finally answered, taking the hand he had reached out to you and shaking it firmly. “My deepest and sincerest apologies for what happened to Master Krell.” Oh no. “I want you to know that I-” You didn’t give him the chance to continue what he had intended to say. No – you did not need his empty words of pity. 

“General I think we should discuss our strategy now.”, you instead cut him off with. “Yes...Of course.” Skywalker rubbed his forehead and sighed, stretching his arm out towards the location of their main tent. “But I just want to-”

You didn’t even give him the chance to speak, before abruptly turning towards the direction he had pointed at, determined to get this mission over as quickly as possible. It was then that you ran face first into a tall, broad man that had seemingly come out of nowhere. And your heightened Jedi senses had been too clouded with Skywalkers presence to recognize the other person.

Normally this simple occurrence would not have fazed you in the slightest. But this was Arami and aside from yourself and Skywalker there were only a certain group of people on the planet. Clones. 

Instinctively your hands went to your lightsabers and your mouth curled into an angry scowl, eyes burning with fury. What imbecile of a labor-bred traitor had dared to step in your way? 

You locked eyes with a blonde clone in full armor, clutching onto his helmet and already taking a few steps back. “General forgive me. I didn’t mean to-” The grip around your right lightsaber tightened. Had it not been for a decade of training in the arts of meditation, you would have probably jumped onto him like a feral beast and rammed your lightsaber right through that stupidly dyed head of his. Instead you decided to exhale deeply through your nostrils and stared right at him.

“It’s General (L/N) to you, soldier. Unlike you I have a name and I would prefer it be used to address me properly.” He could barely look into your eyes. 

“Oh you’ve met, Rex.”, you recognized Skywalker's voice from behind you. “Captain Rex to be exact. One of my most trusted men.” Yes you knew of the silly little nicknames the clones gave each other and you were also aware of what Anakin was trying to accomplish, but you decided to not fall into his trap and walked towards the command tent. 

“You okay, Rex?”, Anakin asked shortly after you left, laying his hand on Rex’ shoulder in a soft attempt to comfort. “Yeah...Yeah General. I don’t know what came over me. I wanted to apologize. I told myself now or never. But when I saw her I – I froze.” Anakin frowned, his eyebrows knitting in disbelief. “Rex you know you have nothing to apologize for. You acted in the name of justice.” The clone trooper stared at the ground, before putting his helmet back on. “If you say so.” 

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

a/n: Originally I wanted to write out the entire idea of her sitting down with rex and talking it out and realizing how she had been in the wrong and even make it a little romantic but then i got a little carried away in the process and it turned out WAY too long anyway so- enjoy this. whatever it is. I’d call it experiment and me dipping into unknown territory to see if i want to continue lol  Maybe I will do a second part where they actually work it out tho

[charincharge]

Cruel Summer, Part 22

cruel summer masterlist

AN: Sorry this took forever. Life has been strange (as I’m sure you’re all well aware). I have so appreciated hearing from all of you, and I’m sorry for the torture I put you through. So, I won’t keep you any longer. Without further ado... Enjoy! 

Harsh daylight pierces through Rowan’s eyelids, and he groans and buries his nose into his pillow, feeling exhausted. He has barely slept a few hours, and already his body is waking him up, ruining the paltry amount of rest he was able to get. He’s surprised when his pillow sighs softly and twitches beneath his extended arm. Some time during his limited sleep, Rowan has returned to his default place; wrapped around Aelin. For a brief second, he forgets that anything is amiss as he breathes her in. But when she moves beneath him again, it all comes rushing back, and he feels like there’s an arrow piercing through his chest.

He stiffens and pulls his arm back slowly, not wanting to wake her. He holds his breath, hoping she remains asleep as he extracts himself from the bed. The starched sheets crinkle loudly under his movements, and he listens nervously for Aelin’s breath to change. He’s relieved when she stays unmoving, and he creeps into the bathroom to shower and change into his clothes, needing a few more minutes alone before being forced to deal with her pitying gaze again. He’s never felt so small or pathetic.

The shower does nothing to lift his mood – the soft trickle of water barely able to cover his body as he tries to wash Aelin’s soap from his skin. He knew he should have brought his own toiletries, but she insisted it was more practical to share. Now he’ll have to smell like her the whole fucking day on top of everything else. He scrubs his skin roughly, turning it red, trying to claw out of his own body. But it’s useless. He’s stuck there.

When he makes his way back out to the room, Aelin is awake, pulling her rumpled hair up into a messy bun. She turns when she hears him, and his entire body freezes upon locking eyes with her. She looks like she’s about to open her mouth, but Rowan isn’t ready to hear anything else she has to say right now. Unless it’s – I love you, too. And he has a feeling it’s not. He gives her a stiff nod, dismissing her, and averts his eyes, the crunch of the carpet deafening as he steps across.

She takes the hint and goes into the bathroom without instigating any conversation, and Rowan releases a shaky breath. At the sound of the shower turning on, he gathers his few things and clears out of the room.

The bus is already waiting in the driveway, though no one but the driver is on it yet. Rowan doesn’t care – he’s grateful for the silence. He takes the first seat and leans his head against the cool glass, letting his eyes close again.

He doesn’t open them again until the bus starts to fill up. The excited chatter from his coworkers drains him further, pushing him into an even worse mood. Their happiness has never made him feel more alone. He’d been looking forward to this weekend for so long, and now he’s thinking about the quickest way to make an escape. He wonders if he could fake an emergency sickness and get out of the day. But he knows he has to stick it out and be braver than that. If only he could erect walls fast enough, thick enough, to keep her warm gaze and soft laughter out of his head. He stares out the window, his head tilted away from the aisle, so as not to inadvertently make eye contact with someone he’d rather not. He exudes a – stay the fuck away from me – vibe, which he’s grateful everyone picks up on, and the seat next to him remains blissfully empty.

He focuses on his breath as Aelin and Elide pass him. He smells Aelin’s soap on her freshly showered skin, and it takes everything in him not to turn his head toward her. But he keeps his gaze firmly rooted out the window. He doesn’t need to see how beautiful she looks this morning, and he definitely doesn’t want to see her smiling with Elide, pretending like everything is fine. He’s not ready yet.

Lorcan gets everyone’s attention and explains the day to them. Rowan looks up at the man, catches one glimpse of his twinkling eyes and buoyant smile, and has to look away. It seems like he and Elide didn’t let their shoddy location ruin their plans. Lorcan’s happiness is blinding, and Rowan hates the way his stomach churns with jealousy.

“Rough night?” Lorcan says with a small chuckle as he takes the empty seat beside Rowan, and Rowan grunts his response. “Didn’t get much sleep?” Lorcan prods, and Rowan simply nods, not wanting his voice to break and give him away. Lorcan is too happy to notice, though. “Me neither,” he says with a wide smile, oblivious to Rowan’s despair. Lorcan slaps Rowan’s knee. “Don’t worry. We’ll get some coffee in you, and you’ll be good as new.”

Rowan forces a smile in return, wishing that were true. If only caffeine could fix a broken heart.

The drive to the lodge is far too short, and they get off and are greeted by their retreat leaders, Petrah and Imogen – an elderly lesbian hippie couple with long unruly hair and tie-dyed t-shirts and tevas. Petrah shows them to their breakfast spread, an incredible buffet that overlooks the shimmering lake. She encourages them to eat their fill because it’s going to be a long (but fun!) day.

Rowan wishes he were feeling better, because he would photograph the shit out of this place. The sun reflects off the smooth surface of the lake, glinting gold across the deep blue-green expanse. It reminds him of Aelin’s eyes. He sighs and grabs some scrambled eggs and half a bagel, avoiding the sugary pastries he know will make him feel ill if he tries to eat right now. As it is, he can barely shovel a few bites of eggs into his mouth before he starts feeling nauseous.

The cloying smell of icing and sugar hits his nose as someone takes a seat next to him. He doesn’t have to look to know who it is. Every time she’s around him, his skin starts to prickle and his heart starts to race. Rowan takes a long sip of his coffee and keeps his eyes trained on the scenery in front of him. He takes in the clear blue skies scattered with puffy white clouds, and the pine trees dotting the banks of the lake, looking like a Bob Ross painting – lush and happy. He manages to finish his entire bagel, somehow, despite the feeling of Aelin only a few inches away. He’s grateful for the silence, despite her proximity, because he’s not sure what he would say to her. Or what she would say to him. He needs more time to lick his wounds, preferably without her sticking her fingers into them, making him bleed out slowly. He’s about to stand and throw away his plate when she breaks the silence.

“Are you really just not going to talk to me anymore?” she whispers, her voice low, and Rowan finally looks over at her.

She looks just as tired as he feels, dark circles prominent beneath her eyes as she brings her mug of coffee to her lips. Her hair is down, still half-wet from her morning shower, and her tanned skin is on display in a white tank top and jean shorts. He watches her fingers grasp at the necklace hanging at her chest, needing something to fiddle with as she looks at him nervously. Her brows are furrowed, waiting for his reply, and he hates the way his heart thuds in his chest just from looking at her.

“I don’t know what there is to talk about,” he finally replies. He knows he should bite his tongue and leave it at that, but he can’t resist pushing, reminding her of why this is all happening. “You didn’t want to hear what I had to say.”

Aelin’s lips tug down as she swallows her coffee. She stares at the pastry on her plate, frowning.

“I thought…” she begins and sighs deeply, twisting her necklace around her fingers again. “I thought,” she repeats herself, a large crinkle forming in her forehead as she attempts to say something. “I thought we’d still be friends,” she finally says and looks over at him, her blue-gold eyes stormy with emotion, and it pains Rowan to see it. He hates that he has to be cruel to make her stay away, but he suddenly feels like he’ll suffocate if she keeps looking at him like that.

“You thought wrong,” Rowan snaps, just wanting her to leave him alone to his misery. He has no interest in being Aelin’s friend. He’s never been Aelin’s friends. They’ve fucked and fought, but they’ve never been friends. Not really. They really skipped over the friend part of friends with benefits. This is what he gets in return.

Aelin opens her mouth and closes it again. He watches as fury burns in her eyes, the cold blue melting into molten gold.

“I didn’t peg you for an asshole,” she says, and Rowan has to laugh at that. His laugh is loud and hearty, and it surprises Aelin, whose eyes widen.

“I’m not an asshole, Aelin,” Rowan laughs again. “I’m a sad sap, who got sucked into some pretty rich girl’s orbit and was told he wasn’t good enough to stay there.”

He stands, not wanting to watch the guilt flash across Aelin’s face. It doesn’t escape his notice that she doesn’t refute his statement, though. Not that she could. He walks away, and she doesn’t follow. She simply sits, staring out at the water, completely still. It gives Rowan a moment to breathe. But just barely. Because the day is starting, and he fears he won’t be able to escape her.

They split into smaller groups for their hike – randomly selected as they count off by six. Rowan is relieved when he somehow manages to avoid being in the same group as Aelin. He can’t be around her right now. He needs space to clear his head. And nothing clears his head as well as physical activity does.

The hike is less grueling than he wants it to be, but it’s a fairly steady incline for a solid two hours. So, Rowan pushes himself, staying with the group leader – a young woman named Rhiannon – maintaining their swift pace up the mountain. As he walks, Rowan tries his very hardest to silence the angry thoughts pushing at the sides of his consciousness, begging to be listened to, but it’s impossible. All he can hear is his own berating voice telling him how inadequate he is, how of course Aelin wouldn’t want to be with him. Why would she? He’s a loser. A nobody who’ll amount to nothing, despite his greatest wishes to do something with his life. His own father didn’t even love him enough to stick around, how could he have been stupid enough to think Aelin would feel something for him?

Rowan pushes his sweaty hair from his forehead and tries not to let that thought choke him. It’s the one that’s buried deepest inside him, under layers and layers of thick skin and avoidance, and the only way he can function is if it stays there.

His head pounds, so he takes a seat on a nearby rock while he waits for the rest of his group to catch up with him. He barely has a few minutes to collect himself before they’re walking across the mountain peak. Rhiannon explains the history of the mountain and its lore, but Rowan catches sight of Aelin ahead of him and stops listening.

It turns out he should have listened because it becomes clear that his group is combining with Aelin’s for the rest of the day. They’re going to complete a team building ropes course together. Of course. So much for avoidance.

Aelin’s group leader, a skinny, nerdy looking guy named Ravi, leads them to their first ropes activity – a tall pole they’ll have to climb up, and then cross an unsteady bridge, made of floating planks. Once they all cross that, they’ll have nine more “challenges,” he explains, until they reach the final one – a zip line, which will bring them down to the bottom of the mountain. He holds up a harnesses and explains how to put it on, using Rhiannon as his model, pulling each of the flaps tight.

“These harnesses are what’s going to keep you safe all day,” he holds it out for everyone to see, “So, after putting it on, grab a friend to test it and make sure it’s completely secure.” He tugs at the harness around Rhiannon’s waist, motioning everyone to follow.

Rowan grabs a harness and climbs into it, pulling the legs tight and then the waist. He knows he needs to find someone to test it, and his eyes inadvertently seek out Aelin’s. She’s just stepped into hers too. He briefly considers walking to her when he’s interrupted by a short blonde, who he’s sure he’s worked with at some point, but he struggles to remember her name.  

“Hey, Rowan,” she starts, her voice high, almost as if she’s purposefully talking like a small child. “Mind checking for me?”

She pulls her loose top up to reveal her pale skin, and bunches it in one hand. She looks up expectantly at Rowan with wide blue eyes, and Rowan has to bite his lip to stop from laughing at her overzealous blinking. He’s sure she’s trying to bat her eyelashes or something, but it really just looks like she’s gotten something in her eye.

He gives her harness a quick tug. It stays, and so he takes a large step back. But the girl doesn’t seem to get the hint.

“I can check yours, too,” she says, and without a second thought, shoves her hand under his harness, grazing Rowan’s crotch as she goes. She takes a step closer and places her other hand against Rowan’s stomach. He cringes away from her, trying to escape, but he finds himself trapped. “Why haven’t we hung out this summer?” she asks, and Rowan, as politely as he can manage, removes her hands from him and takes another step back. The girl pouts, clearly unhappy with Rowan’s reaction. But as his eyes lift, he can’t help but smile.

Completely unaware, over the girl’s shoulder, Aelin glares, her eyes practically lighting a trail of fire to where they stand.

“Remelle!” she calls out, far too loudly, given how close she’s standing. Remelle, right.

Remelle turns away from Rowan, annoyed, to see who’s calling her name, and frowns upon seeing Aelin approaching.

“Think you could check me?” Aelin asks, her eyes dancing dangerously as they flicker between Remelle and Rowan.

“We’re kind of actually in the middle of something—” Remelle replies, and Aelin’s eyes flash with fury again.

“Really?” Aelin asks, and Remelle makes the grave mistake of nodding. Aelin stops when she’s immediately in front of the girl and smirks. “Cause it kind of looked like you were making Rowan really uncomfortable with your unwanted advances.”

Remelle’s jaw drops, and Rowan has to bite back another laugh at Aelin’s sheer audacity. Remelle juts her chin out as she motions to Rowan.

“I think he can speak for himself. Can’t you, Rowan?” Her voice is cloyingly sweet, and Rowan struggles not to shudder. Instead, he rubs at his chin, grateful for Aelin’s intervention.

“No, she pretty much said it.”

Remelle huffs and walks off, swishing her hips from side to side exaggeratedly. Aelin and Rowan laugh simultaneously at the display, but when their eyes meet, Rowan’s smile falls again, remembering he’s supposed to be staying away from this girl who twists him into knots without a second thought.

Still, when she takes a step forward, he dutifully tugs at the harness around her waist. His knuckles brush against the soft skin of her stomach, which is exposed underneath the short hem of her tank top.

He stills when she places her hand atop his and gives him a sad look. “Rowan…”

The pain in her voice shakes him out of whatever trance she’s placed him under, and he removes his hand quickly. “You’re good,” he says roughly.

She clasps her hands in front of her waist and sighs softly. “Rowan, I’m—”

“Please don’t say you’re sorry,” he rushes out in a breath, and she nods tightly. “I need some space.” And he does. He can’t bear this closeness. It hurts way too much. He knows he’ll just keeping getting pulled in over and over, and he made a stand last night. He finally stood up for himself and his feelings, and he needs to keep that boundary secure. It’s the only way he’ll be able to live with himself. She nods again, but she can’t hold herself back from replying.

“I leave in a week,” she says softly. “How much space are you going to need?”

“I don’t know,” Rowan says. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

Aelin nods, and Rowan is relieved when Ravi calls the first person to come forward and start the course, directing everyone’s attention to the tall beam.

Surprisingly, Rowan is able to concentrate on each ropes challenge, and is actually good at them. He crosses the unsteady bridge with ease, is used as the anchor for their giant ladder, hoists everyone up and over the cargo net, scoots up the fallen log beam, and glides across the single line bridge with ease. He impresses even himself, and by the end of the day his body is sore from effort and his skin is slick with sweat from exertion, but he feels better. The crisp mountain air feels cool against his skin as they make their way to the final platform.

Ravi clips his harness to the carabiner, and gives Rowan a large push. He zooms down the side of the mountain, the zip line giving him the best view of the giant peak and mountain in the distance. As Rowan speeds down, the air rushing across his face, he has a moment of clarity  -- that he’s going to be okay. He has to be. He’s survived much worse than a broken heart.

By the time he’s back on the bus, Rowan feels oddly lighter. He dozes most of the ride back to Terrasen, and he’s surprised when the bus pulls to a stop in the Playland parking lot.

It’s already dark as they pile out of the bus and make their way back to their cars. As Rowan reaches his truck, he hears Aelin’s voice calling out for him.

“Rowan, wait,” she pants.

Rowan turns and steps closer to her. He can see her throat bob as she swallows, readying herself to say something he’s sure is going to wound him to his core, so he stops her. Rowan needs to say something first.

“Chaol once told me that once you fall in love with Aelin Ashryver, you never stop.” He recalls the conversation with a wistful smile.

“He said that?” she says, and Rowan nods thoughtfully.

“I’m never going to stop loving you, Aelin,” he says, his voice tight with a sudden frog in his throat. “And I need time to deal with that.” Rowan breathes deeply. “So, unless you suddenly change your mind about me, I think we probably shouldn’t talk.”

Aelin’s breath stutters as she looks at him. “But I’ll see you at the park, right?”

“Yes,” Rowan nods slowly, and he’s shocked to see Aelin’s eyes fill with unshed tears.

“And I can say goodbye to you before I leave on Saturday?” she asks. As she blinks, waiting, a small tear escapes her eye, but she swipes it away before Rowan can question if it was even there at all.

“I don’t think so,” he says, and Aelin rubs at her eye again. Rowan’s chest aches. “Goodbye, Aelin,” he says.

He’s about to step away and into his truck when her arms latch around his neck and she flings her body at his. She presses her face against his chest, and he lets his lips skim across the top of her hair. Her hands clutch at his neckline, and he allows himself a tight squeeze around her waist as he inhales her floral scent one last time.

“Bye, Rowan,” she mumbles into his shirt. And before he can say anything else, she’s gone, disappearing into the dark.

When Rowan arrives home, Manon takes one look at his face and stands from the couch. “I’ll get the whiskey,” she says, and Rowan waves her off.

“I don’t need whiskey.” His voice finally cracks under the weight of the sadness he’s been pushing down for the last twenty-four hours, and his eyes fill with tears.

“Oh, Rowan.” Manon tuts with her tongue. “She’s an idiot.”

“No,” Rowan shakes his head. “I am.”

He collapses onto the couch and tilts his head back. He can feel his eyes burn with unshed tears. The couch sinks beneath Manon’s weight, and Rowan falls across her lap easily as she tugs his arm toward her.

“You can’t tell anyone that I cried,” Rowan stutters as the tears finally drip down his face and onto the thick fabric of Manon’s ripped jeans. She smooths his hair out of his face, running her long nails across his scalp, petting him gently. He releases the tears in droves, not stopping them from pouring from his eyes. He doesn’t bother swiping them away. He just lets himself feel. He’s so incredibly sad.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Manon whispers, stroking his hair calmly. They sit in silence for a few minutes, with Manon soothing him as he cries. The only sounds are Rowan’s sniffles, until Manon’s voice finally breaks in. “So, now would be a bad time to tell you that I’m moving in with Nimi, huh?”  

Rowan shoots up and looks at his roommate. She bites her lip, her eyes filled with guilt as she examines his splotchy, tear-stained face.

“Isn’t that kind of fast?” he asks, and Manon can’t help the small smile that tugs at her lips.

“I’m here to teach you your final lesson about lesbians,” she says with a small laugh. “You now get to witness U-hauling, up close and personal.”

“I’m happy for you,” he says and slinks down to rest his head on top of hers. Manon lets him. “Guess I’m moving home,” Rowan sighs and rubs at his cheeks.

“Your mom will be thrilled,” Manon chuckles, and Rowan groans. This was so not the plan he had in mind for this summer. But, life plans change, he guesses.

Manon pats her lap again, and Rowan doesn’t resist putting his head back down. Manon continues to run her nails across his scalp as she prattles on about the things they need to do before the end of the month. He sighs and nods in all the right places, but he can’t help as exhaustion overtakes him. He’ll think about everything else tomorrow.

~*~*~*~

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[shattered-mirror-fanfic]

This isn’t even my final form! *laughs in angst*

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32206135/chapters/83214115

Chapter below cut for non-Ao3 readers: 

“It’s not that bad…” Reginald said softly, gripping his right arm to cover up the fresh cut. Right frowned more before sighing. 

“It is, ya have to put an end to this before he aims to kill ya!” Right practically shouted. He grabbed a bandage wrap and a small bottle of rubbing alcohol out of the medkit. "Now give me your arm." 

"Righty, I'm fine, this isn't the worst pain I've felt, you know that." The brunette extended his cut arm to his friend. Right poured some of the rubbing alcohol on a rag, then ran it against the fresh wound. Reginald let out a quiet hiss at the stinging and gripped his right arm with his left. 

"Y'know, kind of tempted to teach ya self defense since this keeps happenin'" The Aussie chuckled as he set down the rag and started to wrap the bandage around the disinfected cut. 

"I know self defense! You were there!" Reginald said, defending himself. 

"Sure, then how come you got this cut in the first place?" Right teased. Reginald puffed his cheeks and shoved the ginger with about the force of a teddy bear. "Okay kitten, I got your point now." 

Right laughed a bit while Reginald sat there, cheeks puffed and red and crossing his arms. "Y'know Reg, you're cute when you're mad." With this comment Reginald turned bright red and shot his hands up to cover his face. Right laughed more and closed the kit, standing up to set it on the wooden desk next to the bed. Reginald grabbed his gloves from beside him and put them back on, avoiding any and all eye contact with his companion. “Reg, y’know that just because I gave you a compliment that doesn’t mean ya get to hide from me now.” Right said, calming his tone. He sat back on the bed next to the brunette, placing a hand on the other's back and rubbing it thoughtfully. Reginald nodded and smiled, before yawning and stretching his arms. “Actually I really want to tell you that-”

“Oh goodness! It’s so late, I hadn’t realised! I’m so sorry Right but you’re going to have to hold that thought! I have some more paperwork to do before tomorrow and it’s already 10:30, oh dear.” Reginald interrupted, letting his anxiety build up the more he rambled on. 

“No, no, it’s fine, it wasn’t that important anyways. I’ll just head off and leave you to work then.” Right responded with a bit of despair in his voice. He got up and walked over to Reginald’s bedroom door, turning back to look at his friend. “Don’t burn yourself out again.”

~~~

Right regretted that day so much. It had been 14 years and he could never let that day go, and now all that regret he felt came right back at him, much harder than ever. The one thing he regretted about that day was not being able to say what he wanted to. But he couldn’t focus on that right now, right now, he had to panic over the fact that a stupid fucking flower tried to kill Reginald for the second time. 

He had collapsed on the ground grabbing the broken soul from the glass shards and holding it close to his chest. 

“Oh lord! I am so sorry! Shit, shit, shit, I’ll think of something.” Flowey spoke in a panic. He flipped through the book, trying to find an alternative to save the soul. Right just sat there paralyzed with despair. Tears started forming at the corners of his cyan eyes. He couldn’t say a single word, he knew Reginald would fade soon, there was nothing he could say. 

Flowey continued looking through the book when he spotted something he didn’t recognise. 

“Hey big guy, do you know what a soul bond is? It says here it’s the two human equivalent of monsters absorbing human souls.” The flower asked. Right had only a vague idea of soul bonds from hearing Henry talking to himself about them. But, there was one thing he knew for sure, it would be Reginald’s last resort.

“Tell me what to do.” Flowey glanced over the pages before clearing his throat.

“Ok, apparently this is going to be easier if you’re a DETERMINATION soul. What you need to do is channel your DETERMINATION to his soul, get the soul rebooted with that, then you’re going to try and get his soul bound to you in some way, it’s not very descriptive at this part.” He instructed. Right didn’t fully understand, but he knew he would still have to try his best. 

Cradling his best friend’s soul in his hands, he focused on it, he felt as though he would be able to fix it. He didn’t pay attention to anything else, not even to his own soul that had been drawn out. He needed to fix Reginald. He was DETERMINED.

Right felt his soul grow heavier and saw out of the corner of his sight, it glowing brighter. He felt a tear roll down his cheek, then he was hit with a wave of pain that made him feel like his skin was being torn off. 

“Oi flower boy! Get the doc!” The man shouted as he bent over more in pain. Flowey managed to tilt his pot enough to fall over, he pulled himself out of the pot with the table ledge as a stable support then proceeding to fall onto the ground before sinking in. 

The Right Hand Man gripped his chest with his left hand, still using his right to hold his chief’s soul. His own soul was glowing bright, blindingly so. Right had to close his eyes from how bright his soul got.

“Reg! You have to work with me here! I need you to be strong right now! Please! I…” He paused, letting more tears fall down his face. “I love you!” 

 And then…

He opened his eyes again, the bright glow stopped, the shards that had chipped off of Reginald’s soul stayed in place. A stream of red DETERMINATION flowed from Right’s soul to the other, filling the break like it was glue. The shards reversed, attaching themselves to the soul once more. 

He was fixed.

~~~

Flowey re-emerged from the ground in a panic, looking around for anyone, to only see Frisk, the white-haired human, and their once sibling. He sighed and burrowed down again to get closer. 

“Listen Frisk I’m just saying…..what are you doing here?” Chara started before addressing the appearance of the flower. Flowey couldn’t choke this time, he knew what he had to do.

“Where’s the doctor?!” He shouted. The two humans and the ghost were a bit startled at this.

“Why? Is something wrong?” Henry asked. 

“Um...god, what was his name again? Why can’t I remember it?! I only remember how stupid it was!” Flowey panicked to himself. Henry immediately knew what was going on.

“Right Hand Man! Is he in danger?!” Flowey nodded in response.

“He’s in the medical tent! And the souls in trouble too!” With the mention of something having gone wrong with Reginald’s soul, Henry shot up. 

“I’ll go get the doctor, you kids stay here!” He explained, focusing attention to Frisk and Chara. He ran off in the direction of where everyone else was, leaving Flowey, Frisk and Chara alone.

“So, um, how are you doing Flowey?” Frisk asked nervously. Chara glared at the Flower.

“It was your fault wasn’t it? That’s all you do.” They said. 

“No, I was just helping.” Flowey argued. 

“And you helped the underground by stealing all of our souls?”

“Chara! He did manage to break the barrier, cut him some slack.” Frisk stated. “Plus, he’s really trying to make amends.”

“your friend is right, y'know kiddo, that flower’s done some awful stuff.” Frisk turned around to see the voice coming from Sans.

“Hello smiley trashbag, when’d you get here?” Flowey asked.

“just now, thought i should poppy in.” He laughed. Flowey rolled his eyes. “anywho, i came here to inform you kiddo that your new friends seem, not so great.”

“What do you mean Sans? They’re really nice.” Frisk asked.

“niceness can only get a soul so far, especially for level 13 soul.” Frisk was shocked at this comment. “judging by your expression, you never even CHECKED them, kid, that’s like asking for a fight. i only got to check henry as he was searching for alph, so who knows about the others.”

“Sans, you’re being paranoid! If they haven't hurt us yet then, then won’t hurt us soon.” Sans sighed at what Frisk said.

“just be careful kid. You should not trust people who came from another world.” His tone had shifted from his usual one, to a serious tone. “anyways, i’m off to check in on pap.” 

Before Frisk could even speak again, he was gone.

~~~

Alphys had been in one of the tents nearest to the medical tent, talking with Undyne about some anime they hoped to watch since on the surface, it’d be much easier to access new anime. As they were discussing, Henry ran in, taking a moment to catch his breath.

“Woah there punk! What’s got you all riled up?” The tall fish lady asked. 

“Emergency...in the medical tent...danger!” Henry spoke between pants. Alphys jumped in surprise. The three of them rushed to the medical tent, throwing open the fabric entrance to see Right Hand Man trying to get up off the floor using the nearby chair as support.

“Oh my goodness! A-are you ok?!” The doctor asked in a panic, rushing over to help them man up.

“M’fine, jus’ a little after shock. Nothin’ I ‘aven’t ‘andled before.” Right answered in his usual thick accent while rubbing the left side of his head.

“Then why’d...your eye!” Henry started before cutting himself off as he noticed that Right’s left eye had gone from it’s normal turquoise color to a light blue shade, with even the red ring around the iris having changed to a teal color. Alphys looked up at the aussie before noticing the same change. 

“I-It’s true! Whatever you did must’ve changed your soul!” She explained, pressing a hand against Right’s chest and retracting it to let his soul be drawn out. 

His normal soul did pop out, but it had faint teal orbits circulating it. Along with his soul, a familiar light blue one also appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, it’s break had been sealed with solid DETERMINATION and even had more pumping through newly visible veins.

“Is that?! No it can’t be...unless…” The other human started before trailing off into his thoughts. Then he noticed the discarded leather book on the table, opened to the page with a familiar process. “You binded your soul with the chief’s, didn’t you?” Right looked away for a moment while raising a hand to the teal soul and stroking it lovingly. 

The soul glowed brighter.

“It was the only option, Reg’s jar got knocked over and it broke, he was goin’ to fade if ah didn’t do something.” He looked back. “Granted, the flower didn’t give me warnin’ that the process would hurt like a stab to the chest.”

“Yeah, the pain of the other’s death is reflected onto the bonder.” Henry receipted. The other three in the tent just stared at him. Even the way Reginald’s soul was facing and glowing felt like judgement. “Hey, I just read it somewhere.” 

“Well now what?” Undyne asked in a monotone way. 

“Now, we let Reginald soak up enough determination from Right’s soul until he’s ready to show himself, then he’s got to get used to being a ghost for a bit and if he understands what to do, he’ll fix himself.” Henry answered. He left the tent after finishing his sentence, wandering into the woods for a bit. 

“Well he was helpful, I mean, he didn’t even explain half the things I would have to do!” Spoke a disembodied voice in a British accent. Right looked around for a moment, Reg wasn’t there.

“Course not Righty, I’m dead remember? But now since you binded our souls, you can hear me! And I can hear you!”

Right was losing his mind wasn’t he? Maybe he needed more sleep? Well, if you can hear me, then did you hear what I said to bind our souls? Also, what can you see since you can only hear me? He thought.

“Nope! Didn’t hear a thing until your DETERMINATION powered me! And, well, I don’t know where I am, it’s just pitch black and I’m all tangled up in something, not sure what it is, I think that since it’s coming from my wound, it’s blood. Y’know it’s so nice to talk to you, I missed you a lot, I’m actually glad you were the last thing I saw before I ended up in this hellhole.”

Right laughed internally, tied up in your own blood? Yikes. He smiled, now knowing that his darling friend was at least somewhat happy.

~~~

“Hey Heny~ what’s wrong? Missed me?”

“God no, it’s just that...now Right Hand Man is caught up in this whole soul bond business. I don’t want him to know that you exist.” Henry responded, leaning against a tree.

“Well I know what can help that doesn't involve killing all your friends~” Player cheerfully said while reaching into their cloak pocket, only to pull out a-

[schmokschmok]

i’ll mako mermaid out of you

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Relationship: Keith Kogane x Lance McClain

Characters: Hunk Garrett, Keith Kogane, Lance McClain, Pidge Holt

Wordcount: 6,166

Freeform:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Alternate Universe - Fusion

H2O: Just Add Water Fusion

Mermaids

Comfort/No Hurt

Summary:

It's Lance's idea to steal Coran's boat to go to Mako Island, so it's basically his own fault that he'll never swim competitively again.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29940753 

CN: Anxiety Attack, Blood (not graphic); Mentions of Death & Food

#1

What could go wrong?, Lance said.

It’s not stealing if we’re bringing Coran’s boat back before dusk, Keith agreed.

I don’t think it’s a good idea. Maybe we should wait ’til tomorrow, Hunk objected.

Vroom, vroom, motherfuckers!, Pidge exclaimed as they jumped into Coran’s boat. Get in, losers, we’re going Mako Island.

Keith’s got to confess that it seemed like a good idea when Lance first suggested it: Borrowing Coran’s boat, driving out to Mako Island, examining the bush. (He would be lying if he said that he didn't think about all the rumours of supernatural phenomena surrounding Mako Island. And he would also be lying if he said that he didn't feel excitement rush through him at the mere thought of finding signs of monsters or cryptids.) But now that they're trapped inside a fucking volcano, he begins to regret every decision that led them to this point.

“It’s too steep,” Pidge says, not for the first time. They stand at the tunnel they all climbed down about half an hour ago, Hunk’s next to them, and they both won't stop looking for a way out the same way they got in.

Keith and Lance, on the other hand, are pretty sure there's no chance they could climb up again. (Keith tried, okay, but if he can’t do it, it’ll be impossible for Pidge.) So, their fingers search for openings in the wall while their feet carefully avoid stepping into the pool in the middle of the room.

“Found anything, yet?” Lance asked from the other side of the pool.

Keith wipes sweat from his forehead and shakes his head before he replies: “No. Nothing.” He turns around and catches sight of Lance who's feverishly patting at the stone as if there could be an opening if he just looked thoroughly enough.

The full moon shines brightly through an opening at the top of the cave, seeping into almost every nook and illuminating the water, the floor and the crowns of their heads. Maybe, if they wait just a little longer, there could be enough light to see properly. Maybe that will help them find an alternative exit.

“Hey gays,” Pidge says suddenly. “There are tide marks on the stone.” They're sitting at the water now and feel up the edge with the tips of their fingers. Right beside them is Hunk crouching down to verify their assessment. “There has to be a connection to the ocean.”

Cautiously making his way back over to Hunk and Pidge, Keith attempts to look for a passage deep down in the water, but he can’t make anything out in the darkness. He wants to say It’s worth a try. However, in the exact same moment Keith opens his mouth, Lance says: “Heck, only one way to find out!” And he jumps in like there is not even the slightest possibility of sharks on the other side; like he could just do that without Keith jumping right after him.

And Keith definitely would have rushed into the water mindlessly if it wasn’t for Pidge’s hand on his shin holding him back. (He wants to look down and reassure Pidge that everything’s alright because of the way their fingers claw their way into his clothes and the underlying skin, but he can’t avert his gaze from the point where Lance disappeared into the darkness with not more than having taken off his shoes.)

It feels like forever until little bubbles surface and Lance emerges with a smug grin on his face. (Hunk, Pidge and Keith release a breath they all very much knew they were holding.) Almost floating, he moves his arms in little motions to stay above the surface.

On one hand Keith really wants to smack him, on the other hand he’s glad that their escape seems to be easier than feared. Lance’s voice echoes off the stone walls: “It’s not far. Everyone could do it. A toddler could do it. Even Pidge could do it.” Maybe his grin is even wider than before.

Sighing, Hunk takes off his shoes, slides his feet over the edge of the pool and slowly sinks into the water to Lance, with clear disdain on his face. Following his example, Keith crouches down to remove his shoes, when he hears Pidge’s voice low and almost inaudible near his ear: “Keith, I … I can’t do this.”

“I don’t think it’s that bad,” Keith replies irritated and glances at their face. “Lance says it’s not too far.” They wince and move the hand they were leaning on in front of their body. (Keith doesn’t want to make a scene or draw attention to them but it’s hard given the fact that they’re only four people in one single volcano.)

“Keith, yes, it is,” Pidge says in a hushed tone, perhaps even quieter than before. “I never told you because I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it but … I don’t really know how to, y’know, swim.” Nervously, their index finger and thumb adjust their glasses and it’s obvious they expect some sort of comedic response or mild laughter but Keith only furrows.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to. We got this,” Keith reassures them, before gesturing towards their shoes. “Take them off. And don’t think we’re not going to talk about this later.” He sinks into the water, before reaching out to Pidge, who’s just now pocketing their glasses, encouraging them with a small smile to trust him. And, surprisingly, they accept the hand he’s offering without questioning him. Hesitatingly, they lower their body.

They can’t stand (in fact, none of them can) and Pidge holds onto Keith, panic evident on their face. To comfort them, Keith slings his arm around their waist.

“Everything’s alright?” Hunk asks, moving closer to them. “Pidge, you don’t look too well.” Wax-pale face and shaky hands, they nod, maybe a tick too frantic, but Hunk and Lance don’t seem to realise their emotional state. At least for now.

And that is precisely the moment the full moon is finally in its zenith, filling up the whole opening at the top of the cave. The water surrounding them begins to bubble and glow in an iridescent blue light. An unnatural fog builds up right above the water surface and disperses the moonlight between their bodies.

“What the fuck? What the actual ever-loving fuck?” Pidge screeches, while basically scrambling to get on top of Keith. Every word out of their mouth is accentuated by near hysterical panic and huffed, air sucking breaths.

In a nigh impossible attempt to not suffocate or drown, Keith holds Pidge in place, fingers digging into the hem of their top and stabilising their hip, while gulping down air and staying afloat. (But he’s barely holding it together himself because this? This is not natural. And it’s probably not good.)

Lance and Hunk cling to each other, indulging in litanies of oh, my gods and what the hecks.

It only lasts for a few seconds until the full moon surpasses its zenith and the water calms down, glow slowly fading. Aghast and brimming over with fear, Lance separates from Hunk and exclaims: “We should get the heck outta here.”

Hunk and Keith nod, then Hunk and Lance disappear below the surface without another word.

“Inhale deeply and don’t let go. On three,” Keith says, before counting to three in a low voice. Almost at the same moment Keith and Pidge inhale and submerge, following Lance and Hunk through the dark water and the passage deep down to the other side of the stone wall.

It only takes about thirty seconds until they reach the other side and break through the surface, able to breathe again. Not even for a moment did Keith’s grip on Pidge loosen. Nonetheless, they look deranged and almost close to tears. They suck in air heavily and cling onto Keith as if he’d let go any second now.

“Only a few metres, now,” Keith huffs, more paddling than swimming but without getting far.

Suddenly, there’s a second arm around Pidge’s waist and half of their weight gets lifted off his shoulder. Their face is still buried in his neck and their hot, heavy breath meets his exposed skin. Keith smiles at Hunk who lends him a hand and together they make their way to the shore under Lance’s sorrowful eye.

Pidge’s breath becomes shallower and shallower. They attempt to control it by forcefully holding their breath and then slowly releasing it. But it doesn’t seem to work. The shallow little breaths return.

Keith’s feet hit the ground just a moment after Hunk’s. With joined forces they carry Pidge onto the beach and set them down on the sandy ground. Or at least try to because Pidge won’t let go of Keith and he hangs awkwardly in the air right above them, placing his entire weight on his knees.

“What’s going on?” Lance’s low voice is almost inaudible because Pidge’s laboured breath is drowning out about nearly everything around them.

Voice matched to a soft murmur, Hunk answers: “Not sure.”

Keith wants to tell them what’s going on, just to make sure that they don’t worry too much, but it’s not his place to tell them Pidge’s secret, is it? (At least they’re keeping their distance in an attempt to lessen the pressure on Pidge.)

Keith’s hands wrap around Pidge’s and free him with slow, gentle movements from their grip. While carefully pushing them away from him, Keith murmurs comforting words to calm them down. (He’s not even sure what he’s saying.)

“You know, you’re seriously badass,” he says, and Pidge lets out a sound akin to a laugh. “No, no, no. I mean it. That was incredibly brave, Pidge Gunderson.”

“Fuck you, Keith,” Pidge huffs in between sobs, then they let themselves fall onto their back and giggle hysterically. “Shit! Shit!” Keith sits down next to them, and Hunk and Lance join them, still unsure how to handle the situation.

“You’re gonna tell us what’s going on?” Lance asks as he’s searching for Keith’s hand on the ground. Their fingers interlace with each other and Keith gives Lance a small smile.

Even though Pidge was in the process of wiping tears from their face, they make a dismissive gesture with their hand, telling Keith to answer for them.

“Well, apparently Pidge thought swimming would be a useless skill, so they never bothered to learn.” Lance freezes. The only reason Keith even realizes it is because Lance's grip on his hand tightens. He doesn't say anything and neither does Keith. Instead, it's Hunk who speaks up.

“Oh my god, Pidge, why didn't you say anything?” It's obvious he's working himself up and Keith knows for a fact how horrible it is to feel guilty on top of a panic attack, that's why he's shooting Hunk a look who immediately ducks his head and blushes.

“Pidge, is it okay if I hug you?” Hunk asks next, slowly reaching out to them but merely hovering above their arm, unsure if he's allowed to touch them.

A soft voiced and shaky “that would be nice” later, Hunk wraps his arms around Pidge and squeezes them tight against his chest. The pressure on their ribcage seems to force them to even out their breathing, and after good half a minute, it looks like they’re finally in control over their body again.

Lance is uncharacteristically quiet beside Keith, and Keith throws a glance out of the corner of his eyes towards him. There’s a tension between his eyebrows and his lips form a hard line, discontent oozing from every single pore.

“You okay?” Keith asks lowly as to not disturb Pidge’s and Hunk’s moment, ready to get brushed off by Lance who never really liked being called out on his insecurities, especially not in front of other people. Even if these people are his best friends. (It’s a strict one-person confidentiality with Lance, has always been.)

“It's just … they go to the beach with us regularly. I dropped them into the ocean several times. I could have killed them.” Lance stumbles over the words trying to come out too quickly and all at the same time, hushed voice almost breathless. Suddenly, all blood drains from his face, he’s even paler in the light of the moon, and he stares right past Keith at Pidge.

“Did you just,” Lance can’t seem to decide whether he wants to sound outraged or scared shitless. “Did you just dive, like, under water? Even though you can’t swim?! Pidge, what the heck!” Keith tightens his grip on Lance’s hand, but the tension in Lance’s shoulders doesn’t ease the slightest, and Lance doesn’t even close his mouth all the way before he continues. “This is dangerous as fuck, Pidge!”

It’s not hard to see how this is going to go if nobody stops Lance right this second. Keith can hear Pidge’s breathing picking up again and feel the rapid beating of Lance’s heart in the space between his fingers.

“Lance,” Keith says with a finality in his voice, “this is not helping. And you know I wouldn’t have let them drown. Matt would kill me. They’re stuck with us.”

Lance groans in response but keeps quiet otherwise. Keith doesn’t know what he did to shut Lance up, but this is clearly not the time to question it, so he turns towards Pidge and Hunk, the latter finally letting go of the former.

“I for one,” Keith continues, calling the attention to himself, “think we should get the fuck out of here.”

And no one tries to argue with him.

#2

It’s only been a day since they’ve come back from Make Island, hurriedly bringing back Coran’s boat before he can realise it’s been missing in the first place. Keith fell right into bed after a quick shower to wash off the sea salt because he can imagine all too clearly Lance’s smug comments about his dried up, flaky skin if he wouldn’t. And the thought alone is enough to warrant precautions.

He’s been lying in bed all day, only getting up to snack through the kitchen and bother Shiro during lunch hour. But after a few hours he got restless, skin itching with the need to go out again and exercise in any shape or form. So, he slipped into knee-length joggers and a tank to take a short run through the neighbourhood.

The first ten minutes stretch longer than anticipated, exhaustion from a too short night still prevalent. (He hasn’t talked to Pidge yet, anger at their carelessness and dishonesty predominating now that the initial worry has worn off. But it’s not their fault, they didn’t really lie about anything, and it’s in their right to not disclose information. So, he’s left with aimless anger that he’ll hopefully run out of his system.)

After almost half an hour, he finally feels more at ease, the steady thrum of his feet on the pavement soothing his nerves and lulling him into a somewhat peaceful state of mind.

And that’s when he runs past a sprinkler, right through the spray, seeking out every little refreshment in the summer heat he can find, and, all of a sudden, losing the ground underneath his feet, falling face first into the wet grass.

Keith doesn’t know what just happened, rolling onto his back to stare at the sky self-pityingly for a second, breath coming and going in short, controlled bouts. When he tries to plant the sole of his feet on the ground to get up again, he realises that he can’t and props himself up on his elbows to take a look at his feet, getting caught completely off-guard by the sheer absence of his feet. And legs. In lieu, a red scaled fish tail flops aimlessly on the ground.

“What the fuck,” Keith says to no one in particular, not even in the right mind to thank every deity in existence that there is no one to witness his incoming breakdown.

Without his own volition, his right hand reaches out and prods at a stray scale on his hipbone where the tail bleeds out into his skin.

Now, Keith knows the weirdest thing should be that suddenly he’s half fish or whatever, but he can’t comprehend that right now anyways, so he’s mostly weirded out by the fact that it doesn’t feel like he’s touching skin but more like applying pressure to a finger- or toenail. It’s not a real touch, but the ghostly remnant of applied pressure. It feels terrible and Keith fucking hates it.

“What the fuck,” he says again for emphasis, because how is he supposed to explain this to Shiro? Shiro, gotta move out, live under the sea, doing fish things? That's not going to happen.

He tries to get up a few times, to find footing even though he knows it's impossible. Because if he doesn't try to fight his tail, what is he going to do?

A few unsuccessful attempts later, hands and forearms covered in grass stains and dirt, he thinks that if he can't get up and walk away, he can still crawl his way back to safety. (His mind helpfully supplies him with Lance's name and face, apparently the only choice at hand as Shiro is still at work and Lance is the only human in Keith's life that he knows like the back of his hand. And for the first time ever it actually proves useful because Keith knows that around this time Lance is training for an upcoming swimming competition.)

Digging his elbows into the ground, Keith crawls his way off the grass, only to be met by the rough texture of the pavement that scrapes across his abdomen and tail in the most painful way possible. Dragging skin (or scales for that matter) across asphalt is admittedly not the smartest decision Keith has ever made.

For a moment he contemplates just rolling the whole way, but he’s as quick to dismiss it entirely when he experimentally rolls onto his back and sees the blood and dust clinging to his skin. Maybe the pavement had been rougher than anticipated.

His head drops onto the ground with a low thud, and Keith can’t hold back an exasperated groan. If anyone’s going to see him, he’s sure to find himself within a fish tank in under an hour. (Is he able to breathe underwater? What if he’s just a dude with a fish tail and can’t even breathe underwater, but they think he’s some kind of mythical mermaid creature in desperate need of water, and he drowns?) This can’t possibly get any worse, he thinks.

The sprinkler splutters to a halt, and the only thing Keith can hear is the crying and chattering of the seagulls and the ships and boats dashing through the water not too far away. Just one single human being with binoculars could end his suffering – or his life, depending on their nature. At least he’s still in the sun, slowly but steadily drying off (and out? He’s still not sure how this is supposed to work).

In the end, it doesn’t take too long for him to be completely dry again and a prickling sensation to set in in his legs – tail, whatever. He wonders surprisingly clear headed if this is how he’s going to die. Just softly prickling to death until nothing is left but a few stray red scales.

But instead of losing consciousness or ascending into another plane of existence, the collar of his shoe starts digging into his heel rather uncomfortably. Keith wonders if he did something wrong in this or in his past life to deserve dying with a shoe collar pressing into his Achilles tendon.  

Keith shoots upright with wide eyes and stares at his shoes, at the exposed skin of his shin and finally his grey joggers, trying to comprehend that the tail is gone. No scales, no fins, nothing. Not a single trace of his mermaid moment. This time around, Keith wonders if he hit his head on Mako Island, and the resulting concussion made him hallucinate for about ten minutes.

He doesn’t know what to do or think, so he jumps up and takes up his run again, changing directions towards the public pool in hope of catching Lance.

The pool comes in sight in record time, and if Keith had more on his mind than fuckfuckfuck, he’d probably be at least a little bit proud of the fact that he’s not panting in utter exhaustion as he passes through the gates and heads straight for the pool Lance is most likely to train.

When he reaches the pool, he can already spot Lance’s brown head of hair, surprisingly dry. Not a single drop of water clings to his skin even though he’s sitting right next to the water, only inches separating him from being able to dip his toes. His arms wrapped around his knees, he rests his head on them, too, gaze loosely directed at the surface, but Keith’s quick to realise that Lance doesn’t actually look at the water. He’s far off with his thoughts, and he almost jumps in shock when Keith flops down beside him.

“Jesus Christ, Keith,” Lance exclaims, hand pressed against his rapidly beating heart, “make a noise, dude.”

Keith doesn’t answer, studying Lance’s pale face instead, almost reaching out to touch one of Lance’s freckles to will the rest of his face into colour again, but he holds himself back in the last second possible, hand hovering aimlessly in the air until he places it gently on Lance’s shoulder as if that had been the plan all along.

“Everything okay?” Keith asks.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Lance replies defensively, obviously not good in the slightest. “You spooked me, that’s all.”

Keith nods, and silence engulfs them for a few heartbeats while they look at each other. Keith with an imploring gaze, Lance with a closed off expression as if he’d stand a chance not telling Keith what’s going on with him.

“Did something happen?” Keith asks after a moment because if Lance is in a bad mood, his ten-minute fish tail hallucination can surely wait half an hour or longer. Maybe he doesn’t have to talk about it at all again. If he’s waiting long enough, he’ll forget it himself. Maybe. Eventually.

Lance (who is really, really bad at keeping anything secret from Keith) almost mewls in uneasiness, but quickly corrects his outburst with a dismissive: “You won’t believe me if I tell you.”

“Maybe,” Keith agrees, trying to keep his tone light. “Maybe I will. You’ll never know if you don’t at least try.”

Furrowing his brow, Lance seems to contemplate Keith’s words, weighing his options against each other, growing visibly more anxious with every second that ticks by. But Keith keeps quiet, gives Lance the space to make up his mind. And even if he doesn’t want to (and even if it will be the hardest thing to do) if Lance decides that he doesn’t want to tell Keith, then Keith will accept that, too. (Is that character growth? Shiro’ll be so proud of him, disgusting.)

From one second to the other, Lance’s gaze hardens in earnestness, and he straightens up, turning towards Keith, opening up his whole posture to puff up his chest while he says determinedly: “I can’t tell you.” He pauses as if to muster up all the courage in his bones. “But I can show you.”

In one flowing movement, Lance stands up and extends his hand for Keith to take, then he hoists him up with surprisingly little effort, and Keith’s cheeks heat up embarrassingly. But Lance doesn’t pay him any mind, just drags him along with their still intertwined hands.

“You can’t show me here?” Keith asks in confusion, watching Lance shake his head in response.

“I cannot. Under no circumstance,” Lance replies, not slowing down in the slightest when Keith almost trips on his own feet trying to trail after him.

They leave Lance’s bag behind, and Keith is soon to realise that they’re walking towards the beach, the rocky part where Keith knows for certain that the possibility of running into other people is slim. – He has no idea whatsoever why Lance would drag him there.

“Why did you come anyway?” Lance asks absentmindedly, clearly preoccupied with his own problem at hand.

So, Keith decides that it really, really doesn’t matter what he thought he experienced, and says dismissively: “Nothing of importance. It can wait”, and it can. Lance’s thing is much more important, whatever it may be. (And if Keith gets enough distance between himself and the aching scrapes on his stomach, then he can ignore the episode forever. Probably.)

“Okay,” Lance says lowly, and they don’t talk for the remainder of their way. Which is unsettling in its own way, because Keith can count on one hand the times that Lance hasn’t filled their silence with mindless chatter and exaggerated retellings of stories Keith has heard a hundred times before. Not one of those times had been a happy one.

He tries to swallow down the agitation welling up inside him, but it’s harder than anticipated to swallow down something that has already nested just inches shy of his stomach. Needless to say that he doesn’t feel calmer when they finally reach the beach and Lance climbs down the stairs, still pulling at Keith’s hand to ensure that he’s still following, still coming, still present.

After a short walk around and over a few large rocks, they reach a small part of the beach that is entirely secluded from the rest, sheltered from prying eyes and curious minds, and Lance comes to a halt, back still turned to Keith, but still holding onto Keith’s hand as if he’s in constant fear of Keith disappearing on him. (As if Keith could leave Lance. As if anything on this planet could make Keith leave Lance. It’s ridiculous.)

“I’m going to show you something,” Lance says before turning around and staring into Keith’s face, looking for something Keith can’t comprehend. “And you’re going to stay calm.”

“Yeah, I thought that’s why we’re here,” Keith retorts impatiently, agitation growing steadily, but Lance doesn’t let himself be bothered by Keith’s temperament. They’ve known each other for so long, Lance is probably not surprised by anything Keith does anymore. (Well, except the whole tail thing. Which Keith won’t bring up, so Lance doesn’t even get the chance to be surprised. Check and mate or whatever.)

A shaky smile appears on Lance’s lips, and he lets go of Keith’s hand all of a sudden, leaving behind a sense of loss Keith only experiences when Lance touches him and withdraws again. It’s a unique feeling that reminds him unpleasantly of the equally unique flutter in his abdomen whenever he sees Lance after too much time apart. (Too much is a malleable phrase, because on some days Keith can’t even escape the flutter when Lance comes back from the kitchen after getting up to fetch them a glass of water or a snack for their movie night.)

Lance walks backwards, eyes trained on Keith, until only a few inches separate him from the roll of the waves lapping against the sandy shore. With a last shaky breath, Lance repeats: “Remember, stay calm,” and takes a huge step backwards, suddenly ankle-deep in salt water.

For a moment, nothing happens. Lance just stares at him in apprehension, obviously waiting for something to happen. Keith is about to open his mouth to ask Lance what the fuck he’s thinking he’s doing, when the water around Lance’s feet starts to bubble, and his knees give out under him, sending him into the shallow water with a surprised yelp.

“What the fuck,” Keith hears himself say, not for the first time today, and most likely not for the last. “Lance!”

Keith stumbles forward a few steps, scrambling towards Lance, but he freezes as soon as his feet come too close to the steady waves, because now that he’s not only focused on Lance’s toppling, he realises that Lance seems to be more disgruntled and unhappy than hurt. Which could be caused by the large blue fish tail he wears like his least favourite shoes.

“What the fuck,” Keith repeats, loud enough for Lance to hear him, too. Because, let’s be honest, what else could he possibly say. Today is one big clusterfuck of a shitshow, and Keith doesn’t have the emotional range anymore to respond accordingly.

“I don’t know, man,” Lance calls back, even though Keith could probably hear him too if he were whispering. “You’re not going to, like, freak out on me, are you?”

“No,” Keith lies, you know, like a liar. He even shakes his head for good measure.

Displaying his vast knowledge of Keith’s tone of voice and every single expression Keith could sport at any given moment, Lance says: “Sure thing, buddy, please don’t, like, pass out or anything, I couldn’t catch you if I tried.”

“Yeah,” Keith says. He says: “No. I get it.”

“You do?” Lance’s voice is sceptical, and he furrows his brows again. Obviously dissatisfied with Keith’s reaction to the whole situation. Or rather lack of reaction. (Maybe he doesn’t know Keith as well as Keith knows him. Or maybe Keith is a terrible human being with one puzzle piece up his sleeve that Lance can’t possibly know about.)

“Yeah, still in shock, I guess,” Keith replies easily, toeing his shoes off his feet and taking the smallest step known to man toward the water. “Funny thing is that I came by to talk to you, too.”

“You said it’s not important,” Lance responds, face growing even more disgruntled. “We’re talking about my thing right now, Keith, get with the program.”

That pries a self-deprecating chuckle from Keith’s lips, and he draws in another deep breath, before he steps forward, cold sea water embracing his feet like an old friend. – Maybe they’re really friends now, considering the big fucking tail that appears where Keith’s legs have been until a second ago, sending him down into the water right on top of Lance who’s yelping in surprise again.

“You dick,” Lance splutters, mouth full of sea water. But then his eyes zero in on Keith’s tail and they grow wide in shock. He scrambles, fingers digging into wet sand until they hit Keith’s scales for the first time and hold onto them like Keith’s tail is Lance’s lifeline. Lance screeches: “This is not important? Not relevant enough to mention once?”

Being propped up on his elbows complicates Keith’s attempts of shrugging, but he thinks he’s getting the point across when he retorts: “You said you had something on your mind.”

For the first time almost completely engulfed by water, Keith tries to ignore the burning of the salt in the scrapes on his stomach, only to relent and navigate his tail into the same direction as Lance’s while rolling onto his back to lift his stomach out of the water.

Meanwhile Lance questions: “Have you always been a merman? Did you bite me to turn me into a merman, too?”, completely ignoring Keith’s admission. He eyes the contrast of their tails – red and blue, both unnatural like poisonous fishes –, wandering until they settle on his stomach, finally taking in Keith’s scratched up skin. “What happened to you?”

“Went for a run, got into contact with water, didn’t know it would end when it dries off, tried to move on asphalt anyway,” Keith rattles off detachedly, taking in the way Lance’s tail bleeds out into his back, singular scales just shy off the dimples above his hip bone. (The tail looks far better on Lance, but Keith won’t say that out loud.) “You seriously think I’d werewolf you into becoming a mermaid, Lance?”

“Maybe merfolk is immortal, and you just can’t live without me anymore,” Lance replies smugly, obviously growing accustomed to the thought that they’re amphibian now. Or whatever else the fuck mermaids are.

Keith decides to give Lance one more win to keep him from getting anxious again, even though he’s not sure if Lance really needs another reason to be self-complacent: “Well, if I were an immortal mermaid and I could turn you into my kind with a bite, maybe I’d do it.”

Lance grins at him now, big and wide and rosy-cheeked, and he lifts his wet hand to gently brush a strand of Keith’s hair out of his face. He doesn’t take his hand back, however. It settles on Keith’s cheek instead, cool skin soothing Keith’s fluttering nerves.

“You know,” Lance says, and his words don’t have the same joking quality to them anymore, clearing a path for earnestness that threatens to spill into Keith’s heart, “if I had to spend eternity with an immortal fish, I’d rather it be you.”

And Lance doesn’t know what he elicits in Keith’s soul, that he throws blotting paper into the burning hot flames of Keith’s yearning right beneath his skin. Lance doesn’t know, and it infuriates Keith greatly, beyond anything else. – And in extenuation of Keith as a person, he never said he’s got any impulse control, and just because he’s grown as a person since his angry teenage years, don’t make him less of a hothead. So, it’s to exactly no one’s surprise that Keith reaches out to Lance, cupping his face hastily and probably a little bit on the rough side to pull him close enough to kiss him.

Keith is not a strong man – mentally wise. He’s really, really weak emotionally speaking. And not kissing Lance has been on his agenda for so long now that he surprises himself with the fact that he didn’t do it sooner. Because only now that he actually does it, he realises just how natural it feels to have Lance pressed against him, bare skin on bare skin.

It doesn’t take long for Keith to realise that Lance hasn’t exactly kissed him back, which is as unsettling as it is anxiety inducing, so he pulls back only to be met by Lance’s wide eyes and slack jaw. Keith’s hand falls down, leaves Lance’s face hurriedly, but Lance stays glued to Keith’s cheek, mouth opening in quiet awe. (Oh, God, Keith really hopes it’s awe.)

“You kissed me,” Lance says matter-of-factly, eyes still widened in surprise.

Keith sighs sheepishly. “Yeah.”

“And we’re both some kind of weird half-mermaid,” Lance states for good measure.

Keith averts his eyes, not knowing where to look instead. “Yeah.”

“What the fuck,” Lance says.

“What the fuck,” Keith agrees.

And then Lance’s lips find his again, and he’s suddenly confronted with half a lap of blue fish tail while Lance’s second hand joins his first, burying themselves into Keith’s hair like it’s the only thing they were ever intended to do.

This time, Keith doesn’t immediately kiss back, still kind of reeling from the whiplash of Lance throwing himself at Keith. And Lance pulls back, almost bending over backwards in an attempt to give Keith some space if he wants it, because Lance is a good guy. (Which is probably the reason Keith fell for him in the first place.)

“This wasn’t some spur of the moment split second decision, was it?” Lance asks almost breathlessly. “You’re not going to back out on me, are you?”

“Kinda, I mean: No—well, I didn’t plan on it,” Keith says, shaking his head to drive his point home. Whatever that point may be. “Not going to back out, though. Don’t worry.”

Lance’s face almost splits in half with a smile so blindingly boyish that Keith forgets to breathe for a moment. He wants to frame this moment, savour it for as long as possible, and never ever let go of Lance’s face or arms or hip. (He will, they can’t stay in the water forever. But a guy can dream, right?)

(Kissing Lance is intoxicating, and it definitely makes up for the throng of hypothetical questions and hypotheses Lance throws his way in between, trying to examine every last possibility of their new state of being before plunging into the water and experiencing it first-hand, even though Keith can’t answer one of them because he’s as new to this as Lance. – Kissing Lance might even be the best thing Keith has ever done, and while he’s still a bit peeved that it took them so long to finally do it, he can’t help himself but think that he doesn’t mind the tail as much now that it is evident that it’s the catalysator of bottled-up feelings Keith didn’t think he could have endured any longer.)

Being a merman is kind of amazing. (Even if Pidge doesn’t agree.)

[jessicajonesrp]

Round up at the Raft

Somehow, miraculously, Trish actually managed to stay quiet for the majority of the trip to the Raft. Probably because she knew that Jessica, in her pregnant, stressed out, and very sober state, could not handle much more to trigger her temper, and would likely respond to any irritations from Trish by simply jumping out of the car and hitching a cab the rest of the way.

 

Jessica would have thought that would be a plus, Trish’s lack of chattering, but instead, it just gave her own thoughts more time to run rampant until she felt that her skin was riddled with adrenaline that she couldn’t bleed out. She bounced her legs jaggedly from the passenger seat, and by the time they did make it to the outskirts of the East River, just off Roosevelt Island. She had been given the approximate coordinates of the location that the Raft would be made accessible to her for her visit to Phillip, and as Trish drew closer to their destination, Jessica texted back and forth with the doctor, sent ahead of her a couple of hours before, to confirm that he had arrived with the vaccinations and that all staff and prisoners had been appropriately protected against Kilgrave. She had arranged a code word ahead of time for him to use if he had any contact with Kilgrave, and when the word was not used, she could be somewhat assured that everything, so far, was going as hoped.

 

If the doctor could be trusted. And if the vaccines had all worked. If, if, if.

 

Jessica had little nervousness about seeing Phillip again, at least, that she was able to admit to herself. It would be difficult to see the impact that prison life and isolation had on her little brother, but his choices were his own, and he was lucky that he still had any kind of life at all. She hoped that he would remember that and choose to be cooperative, or at least that she would still recognize at least some pieces of the brother she loved in what the Raft was shaping him into now. But that was beyond her control and beside the point.

 

It was the expectation of Kilgrave popping up that jarred her, mentally and emotionally. It didn’t matter how much protection they had put in place for people or how high the chances that they would succeed, Jessica still felt strong dread and responsibility to think of all the people he had harmed already and all those he may still. Even though she was no longer vulnerable to Kilgrave’s commands, nor was Trish, Luke, or the others most important to her, it didn’t mean they couldn’t be harmed by someone who was, or that her PTSD had received that memo.

 

Everything on the river’s shoreline was as had been described to her- a huge garbage scow at the water’s surface, covering up the facility underneath, and although she could not see the cameras or guards, Jessica knew they were there, outside easy surface view. She scanned their surroundings, every muscle drawn taut, and checked the time. Fifteen minutes until the Raft would come to surface, twenty-five until it would submerge. Trish had driven too damn fast for someone who talked about Jessica’s reckless driving skills.

 

She sent Luke a quick text to let him know she and Trish had arrived, distantly aware that Trish was doing the same for Luke. When a warm hand touched her shoulder, Jessica jumped, her head almost hitting the roof of the car, and barely stopped herself from taking a swing at Trish. Trish, used to this, ducked back just out of her reach and removed her hand.

 

“I know you hate pep talks, so, hard as it is, I’ll refrain, even though this is absolutely the perfect time and place for one. Notice and appreciate my self control.”

 

She smiled, her tone playful, but she was obviously assessing Jessica, seeking to reassure in her own sneaky, totally denying it fashion. Jessica shrugged, abruptly shoving open the car’s door.

 

“Whatever, I don’t do appreciation. That falls under etiquette, and that’s just a waste of time. I’m going to go ahead to the shoreline and wait. Don’t come with me.”

 

“You still have time before you can go in,” Trish started, but ignoring her, Jessica continued forward. She noticed and was irritated that Trish also got out of the car and followed her, but didn’t comment on it. It wasn’t like the guards would let her in, she hadn’t been approved for that. If she wanted to stand there and have Jessica not talk to her, well, she would get bored faster than Jessica would, for sure.

 

From the distance, Jessica could hear the smooth, nearly purring engine of an expensive-sounding car, coming closer. She tensed, stopping in her tracks, and resisted the urge to turn around or look over her shoulder. It was probably Danny, coming to accompany them after all, or one of his many employees. Maybe it was even a guard of the Raft, coming in for duty.

 

But she heard Trish’s gasp as the car drew closer, and the other woman’s quickening footsteps as she caught up to Jessica and grabbed hold of her arm. Jessica had to turn then, but even before she saw the figure emerging from the vehicle that had just parked beside theirs, she already knew from the shaky, cold sense of dread spiking through her just who it was that had arrived.

 

“Jessica Jones, we meet again. With sustained effort and perseverance on my part, of course.”

 

Jessica held herself rigidly, noticing with absolute horror that there were three children sitting in the back of the vehicle that Kilgrave had arrived in, all between the ages of approximately five and eight years old. Even more sickening was the fact that all of the children were clearly biracial- just as her own child would be. It was a cruel, evil move, and an obviously intentional reminder of just what Kilgrave was willing to do to Jessica’s own child, if it suited his purpose or goals.

 

“Kilgrave,” she spat out, the word twisted and sharp on her tongue. “What did you do, put a hidden camera in every building in the city? I knew you’d end up here somehow. Fucking knew it.”

 

“No, I simply had bugs implanted in all of the cars under Danny Rand’s ownership that I could get people to get hold of,” he shrugged, unruffled by Jessica’s tone. “Anything to reach you. You should know by now the effort I’m willing to go to, to find you. Doesn’t that prove to you how much I love you? What is it that a man has to do for that to get through?”

 

“No, it proves that you’re a psychotic, sociopathic stalker who doesn’t know how to take no for an answer,” Jessica snapped, not yet taking a step towards him. “And that you’re selfish enough to care more about what you want than anyone else’s life or happiness.”

 

Her eyes remained on the children, who as of yet were sitting seemingly calmly in the car. She could not see from her distance if any of them had been harmed, but she knew from her own experience just how terrified and out of control they must feel.

 

 

“Persistent and devoted would be how I would describe it, but you always did have a sharp tongue. Making everything sound so ugly,” Kilgrave shook his head, making a face of displeased disagreement. “I’d say we can agree to disagree, but I suppose you rather enjoy being contrary. That’s my Jessica.”

 

“I’m not your anything,” Jessica snapped, taking a step towards him, every muscle tensed for confrontation, fists balled at her side. “I’m nothing to you but your victim, and I refuse to be anymore. Let those kids go. This isn’t about them, Kilgrave.”

 

To Trish, she ground out in an undertone, “Trish, go to the car. Right now.”

 

Trish licked her lips, but stood her ground. Kilgrave, to Jessica’s dismay, turned his gaze towards her.

 

“Patsy,” Kilgrave inclined his head towards Trish, obvious disgust in his voice. “Let me ask you, Patsy, how is it that a woman with absolutely no useful abilities or skills manages to escape my efforts to dispose of her on multiple occasions? Is it sheer luck, or do you have some sort of innate self-preservation talent that saves you when your friends cannot? I truly do want to know, now.”

 

It was a command- the first directed at Trish, or at anyone who had been vaccinated, since the doses had been doled out. Jessica nearly held her breath, waiting to see what would happen, her fear choking her throat when Trish opened her mouth to respond.

 

But rather than respond to his question, Trish closed her mouth, shook her head, and smirked.

 

“Too bad for you, Kevin. I don’t feel like talking to you, so it looks like for one of the very first times in your life, you aren’t going to get what you want.”

 

For the first time that Jessica could remember doing so of her own free will, she smiled, right there in Kilgrave’s presence. It was impossible not to when the man’s jaw had nearly dropped to his chest.

 

“That wasn’t an option, Patsy!” he barked, blinking furiously in an effort to regroup himself. “I asked you a question. How is it that you keep escaping death?”

 

“She gave you an answer, didn’t you hear her?” Jessica put in, smirking. “She said it’s none of your fucking business, and no one’s in control of her tongue but her. Including you.”

 

“What she said,” Trish agreed, nodding. “With slightly less profanity. But she got it right all the same.”

 

Kilgrave took a step back, as though Trish’s lack of response to his order was somehow a threat to him, an endangerment. Truthfully, it was, although he could not know to the extent. The vaccines worked- Jessica now had seen the proof for herself, and her heart beat faster now not with fear, but with excitement.

 

They were going to get him. They were going to end this, finally. They just had to get through the next few minutes first.

 

“How did you- this is you!” he sputtered, jabbing a finger in Jessica’s direction. “You infected her somehow. Always you, messing things up, making things harder! Why can’t you ever just let things be!”

 

“Because I have a mind and will of my own, and it isn’t your fucking place to steal it,” Jessica snapped back. “Now get down on the ground, on your stomach, hands behind your back, unless you want me to break your neck. Again. And if you have any other little soldiers in hiding, call them off.”

 

But Kilgrave didn’t respond. When Jessica sprung forward, grabbing him and far from gently throwing him down and into a restraint on the ground herself, she heard Trish gasp, sucking in a breath. Kilgrave, unresisting beneath her, laughed softly to himself.

 

“I have to say, Jessie, this brings back fond memories. I always did like you on top.”

 

“Shut the fuck up!” she snarled, giving him a vicious shake.

 

She drew back her fist to punch him, hard enough to knock him unconscious, but Trish’s sharp calling of her name caused her to look up, then follow her pointing finger to the children, still seated in the car Kilgrave had driven up in. Only now, each of them held a knife to their tiny throats, digging in just enough that Jessica saw small beads of blood come to the surface of their skin.

 

Clearly, they had been holding the knives in their laps, just waiting for Kilgrave to be harmed or restrained. What the fuck was she supposed to do now?

 

Kilgrave laughed, understanding even as Jessica forced his face into the dirt what was happening.

 

“Try it, Jessie, go ahead and kill me. What’s three more deaths, when you can take down big bad me? It’s worth it, isn’t it? Just a few more deaths on your conscience, so what if they happen to be little kids?”

 

Jessica froze, stricken with indecision for several seconds. Then, making a decision, she released Kilgrave, throwing him off and away from her. When the children did not further harm themselves, watching solemnly, fear and pain stark in their wide eyes, and Kilgrave, chuckling, started to get to his feet, Jessica blocked out the words he was saying. Instead she took one long jump, landing somewhat gracelessly next to the children in the car, and tugged open the back door. She pried the knives out of each child’s hand, despite their screams and protesting efforts to regain them, and easily broke the knives into pieces before flinging them hard into the East River. As the children pushed past her out of the car, rushing towards the water’s edge in an effort to retrieve the pieces of knife that were already washing past their ability to find, Jessica grabbed one of them by the wrist, hesitating with a guilty grimace.

 

“Sorry, kid, I have to.”

 

She hit him, with just enough restraint that she prayed it wouldn’t’ cause permanent head injuries, but enough that the child went unconscious. She lay him down gently and snagged a second child. Trish, seeing what her intentions were, used what Jessica assumed to be some of the ninja skills Danny had been teaching her to restrain Kilgrave, even as Jessica rendered the second and last child unconscious and therefore safe from self harm. Coming back to Kilgrave, Jessica shook her head.

 

“You don’t know me. You never did, you never will. And you will never touch me or anyone else again.”

 

Kilgrave flinched, knowing what was coming even before she knocked him out in one blow. She had considered making it a killing one, but at the last second, although she couldn’t explain to herself why, she drew it back, just enough to save his life. Trish, still holding his now limp body gingerly and with disgust, looked up at Jessica, eyes serious.

 

“Jess, there’s less than two minutes left of the Raft being above surface, we have to get him in there, fast!”

 

Jessica had barely registered the Raft rising above the water, able to be accessed. She certainly hadn’t been keeping track of time. She would have been impressed by Trish’s ability to track time while simultaneously battling a psychopath, but there were more important matters at hand.

 

“Then give him to me,” she ground out, already mentally accepting her inability to see Phillip. “I’ve got this.”

 

She snatched him from Trish, jumping from where she stood the forty feet or so distance to the Raft’s surface with Kilgrave slung over her shoulder like a potato sack. The guards, standing ready to confirm her identity and purpose for her admission, seemed unfazed as she shoved him at them.

 

“This is Kilgrave, the one you had to get the shots for. Newest prisoner. Don’t know or care what proper protocol for admission is, he needs to be in here. Now, and forever. Don’t trust him, and don’t fuck this up. Someone will call you later if you need.”

 

Abruptly she leapt back onto shore, just in time to see the stoic guards putting obviously specialized cuffs on his wrists and punching in codes to take him inside. As the Raft began to descend beneath the water’s surface once more, Jessica let her shoulders sag, her heartbeat finally beginning to slow. She could see Trish checking the children’s vitals from the corner of her eyes, making sure they were all stable, but just for the moment, she closed her eyes, letting herself breathe.

 

It was over, again. At least for now.

 

Taking out her phone, she texted Luke. “Out of Raft. Not that I went in. Kilgrave showed. He’s their newest prisoner now.”

 

[honeytea8]

“Mister Fix-it” - Josuke/gn!Reader

A/N: Something I posted a while back on AO3 and now I’m dumping it here, I edited it to be gender neutral, pls let me know if I missed anything, enjoy!

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: When your brand new air conditioning system doesn’t live up to the hype, you’re left with no other choice but to call Josuke Higashikata, the neighborhood handy-man and Morioh’s local heartthrob. (Post-canon; Josuke is 19/Reader is 23ish)

There is not a single ‘moderate’ thing about the summers in Morioh Cho and you come to this shocking discovery during your very first year back in this crazy, noisy town.

One early morning, a wave of heat sweeps in like a thief in the night, creeping over your body and making your nightshirt cling to you like second skin. A relentless force of nature that saps any residual moisture in the air. Everything is left high and dry—you lament over your dying succulent.

You can’t count how many cups of ice water you’ve guzzled or how many cold showers you’ve taken just to end up sweaty again, but something’s got to give. The day after Kai Harada announces the possibility of record-breaking temperatures in the following weeks, you delve into your emergency savings for a solution only money can buy.

Two days later, a portly electrician comes and installs a new air conditioning system for your home. He’s yammering on about how it’s supposed to be the best on the market. State of the art and all that jazz. You don’t really care for the details; you just want to be comfortable in your own house lest you end up a melted pile of goo. Who the hell would take care of your vegetable garden then?

You inspect the newly installed system with subdued interest. Truthfully, it doesn’t look like anything but an eyesore that’s completely thrown off the ambiance of the entire living room. It’s practically hanging out of your window. However, the only thing keeping you from complaining about its appearance is the dusty fan overhead that’s been circulating the same muggy, warm air for over an hour now. You prefer functionality over appearance, screw feng shui, you needed this AC.

“So, you’re positive it'll cool down the entire house?” you question one final time.

As if to prove his point, the electrician flicks a switch and the machine attached to the wall comes to life. The droning hum is annoying and would take some getting used to but it’s blowing the coldest air you’ve felt in a while. Both you and the electrician remain standing in front of it for a few seconds, basking in wonder.

Like magic, the heat-induced stress and tension leave your body all at once.

“Well then,” you say with a smile, “It’ll do.”

One week. Seven days. A hundred-and-sixty-eight hours of pure, absolute, uninterrupted bliss. You are in heaven! Your plants are flourishing as usual, and you aren’t sweating profusely like a pig for slaughter. Life is oh so good.

Until you wake up on the eighth day at four am with the worst case of cotton-mouth you’ve ever experienced.

You tumble out of bed, delirious from the sudden onslaught of heat that has transformed your bedroom into a sauna. Loose cotton sheets tangle with your ankles and you hit the ground, chin scuffing against the floor in your haste. The adrenaline pumping through your veins keeps you from wincing, or even feeling the pain. All you can hear is the sound of your own two feet pounding on the polished wooden staircase.

“Please, no, no, no, no—“

You sweep into the living room only to find the new air system is completely silent and no amount of switch-flicking or button-punching is going to change that. Mouth screwing into a scowl, you glare at the overpriced piece of junk with unbridled disdain.

This has become personal.

A hard smack from the palm of your hand to the surface of the machine echoes through the room—still nothing, not even a stirring. 

Big fat tears well up in your eyes. Whatever hormones fueling your rage are now flooding you with sadness. Your hand and chin are throbbing from the pain. The money spent on this crap was gone and now you’d have to shell out another hefty amount just to get it fixed. You want to pull out your hair in frustration.

Glancing around the room, everything is so still and calm. It’s still quite early in the morning, a few hours before dawn and you are tired as hell. The heat is making you lethargic, so after drying your tears and chewing on some ice cubes, you curl up on your sofa and go back to a fitful sleep.

.

.

.

Later in the day, you’re hanging clothes out on the line when your neighbor comes out to greet you.

She’s a grandma who lives alone except for when her grand kids come to visit, and despite her penchant for being a nosy gossip, you kind of like her. She waves and meanders over to the edge of her fence. 

“This is some heat, I tell you.”

“Right! I didn’t realize Morioh could even get this hot,” you pick up another sheet and toss it over the wire. “Would you believe that I spent two paychecks on an air conditioner that doesn’t even work.”

Your neighbor gives you a look of pity. “Oh dear, such a shame.” You watch as she adjusts the chairs and tables around her patio.

“You know, I have a teacher-friend with a son who has a knack for fixing things. Had him take a look at my plumbing a few weeks ago and he had it working right as rain. I can ask him to come by and take a look at it for you.”

You shuffle the empty bamboo basket in your arms. “I...guess that could work. Have him drop by sometime.” 

What’s the worst that could happen?

Two days later, you’re tending to your many plants—because you’d be damned if another died because of this heat—when a Greek god falls from the sky and onto your doorstep.

“Hi! I’m Josuke Higashikata, your neighbor said you had a problem with your air conditioner.”

To say you’re surprised would be an understatement: the young man standing on your porch is a damn stunner. His pouty lips, broad shoulders, and slim waist are more than enough to fuel a wet dream or two. Your brain short-circuits for a solid minute. Is it hot in here or what?

(And for once, you aren’t talking about the actual weather.)

He shifts nervously from one foot to another when you don’t immediately respond, but all you can do is stare. You’re thirsty for more than just a drink of water right now.

“Um,” he looks down at the sticky note in his hand and mumbles to himself. “This is the address, right?”

That snaps you out of your stupor. You internally berate yourself for looking like a gaping idiot in front of this knockout.

“YES! Ahem—yeah, y-you’re at the right place.” you move aside and allow him in. And good Lord, he’s tall. You wouldn't mind climbing that beanstalk.

Josuke is dressed in a striped yellow tee and pair of boardshorts that fit just right, a real sight for sore eyes.

You try not to swoon and realize rather belatedly that your own attire isn’t hiding much from view. Since the air conditioner stopped working, you reverted back to wearing tank tops and shorts around the house. Josuke, for what it's worth, isn't ogling you but he’s obviously noticed if his reddened cheeks are anything to go by.

“Right over here.” You say breezily.

The sway in your hips is subtle enough that it doesn’t look intentional. You guide him over to where the AC is sitting in the wall like a heap of scrap metal. Josuke didn’t bring any tools with him, so you’re skeptical about how he plans on fixing it. Honestly, even if he can't, you plan on making the most out of this.

You enter the kitchen adjacent to the living room, allowing him to take a look at the thing without you hovering.

As you’re straightening out the dining table, you ask, “So, how old are you, Josuke? You look a little young to be a handy-man.”

There’s a pause in his movements. “I just turned nineteen!”

Your fantasy dies a swift death somewhere deep within the dredges of your subconscious. Of course he’s young, as if you hadn’t noticed. Dialing back on the flirtation, you hum out an ‘oh cool’. The last thing you want to be is a cradle robber!

You aren’t that much older than him...but it still feels a bit wrong? You’ve never been with a younger guy before.

A startling hum resounds throughout the house and you feel a gust of cool air coming from overhead. Josuke has managed to fix it! You rush back into the room just in time to catch him stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“All done!”

“That—That was really quick? What was wrong with it?”

Josuke only shrugged. “Not sure, but it seems to be working now.”

You stare uncomprehendingly.

“So...was there anything else you’d like me to fix?”

Blinking you look around for something but come up short. “No, not unless you can bring plants back to life.”

Now it’s Josuke’s turn to blink as he takes a look around with wide eyes. He hadn’t noticed all the plants in the various corners of your home, he had been too distracted by—

“Which ones?” He says before he can stop himself.

You point to the succulent perched on the coffee table, it’s dried up and brittle in some parts, but it’s not completely dead. He kneels down to its height, touches some of its chubby petals. Then he silently calls on Crazy Diamond and with a single touch, it’s restored back to its normal health.

A few years post-Yoshikage Kira, Josuke has gotten a lot better with his powers, utilizing his stand with ease. He turns and gives you a smile and has no idea he’s giving you heart palpitations just by looking like that.

“Woah! Josuke, what the hell was that?”

“Ahh, it’s hard to explain. Just know it’s something I’ve been able to do since I was a kid.”

“Wow, th-that’s some trick,” you glance at your plant in shock. It’s literally back to normal. You recall all the time spent nurturing it, along with your other plants. All the sweat doled out during back-breaking gardening. How could you ever repay him for making sure your hard work didn’t go down the drain?

Before you know it, you have his face in your hands and you don’t know what the hell you're doing but you're holding him and staring tearfully.

“Thank you times a million. Seriously.”

Josuke just gulps and nods. “Uh huh, not a problem.”

You really try to ignore the way he’s staring at your lips or the heavy blush on his cheeks because, again, you are not robbing the cradle. With more self-control than you knew you had, you let go of his face and step back.

“S-So would you like some tea, or lemonade or—“

“Lemonade,” he says as he stands to his full height. “Lemonade is fine.”

You nod with your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. He is so cute. You scamper off into the kitchen and pull out a full pitcher of homemade lemonade. Meanwhile, Josuke is left to take a look around your house.

There are plants everywhere, most are leafy, green, and healthy. The ones that aren’t, get a boost from his stand power.

Josuke wants to compare your home to a jungle or the Amazon, but that’s not quite an accurate comparison. Even though there’s clearly a lot going on, it’s not cluttered or disorganized at all. It’s just...really freaking amazing! There’s even a flourishing terrarium built in the walls near the staircase.

With your obvious love for nature, Josuke thinks you’d get along great with Mr. Jotaro, but for some reason he doesn’t feel too inclined to introduce you two.

When you finally return, you catch Josuke eyeing your little turtle tank with a weird look.

“That’s Kame, I just got him a month ago.”

Josuke laughs, “Kame, huh? That’s pretty clever.”

“I thought so too,” you hand him the cold drink and as he takes it, his fingers graze yours. “He doesn’t do much, so if you’re expecting him to do a trick, you’ll be waiting a while.”

“Oh nah, it wasn’t that. I’m just…kind of afraid of the little guy.”

Biting back the urge to say ‘awww’, you usher him over to the engawa overlooking your vegetable garden. “A fear of turtles is understandable. But would you believe that I used to be afraid of fish?”

“Fish? No, I can’t say I would. But I also wouldn’t judge.”

You smile at that because of course, he wouldn’t judge you. “Yup, had a bad experience when I was five. My father used to live in Morioh, near the coast. He was a fisherman,” you pause, momentarily distracted by the bob of his adam’s apple as he takes his first sip.

“H-He umm, took me fishing once... and it was the first time I’d ever laid eyes on a real fish. Needless to say, I screamed my head off.”

“No! Seriously?” Josuke chuckles and it’s so contagious and addicting. Soon you're laughing too.

“I swear, I cannot make this up!”

“So, what happened?”

“Okay, so I’m screaming like a mad person and running away. You know what my dad does? That asshole chases me with the thing still dangling from his fishing rod.” You shake your head at the memory. “I literally got sick and threw up that night, and boy did my mom chew him out for it.”

“That sounds so hilarious and yet so traumatic.” He laughs again. “That’s terrible!”

“Right! I could never look at a fish after that or even be around them. It took years before I finally got over it.” You sigh and shake your head again.

Silence ebbs between you for a moment before Josuke clears his throat. 

“So, this might seem a bit forward, but would you like to go on a date with me?”

The question doesn’t register in your head all at once, leaving you to stumble over your words until you can finally think coherently. “Josuke I...I’m a bit older than you. Shouldn’t you go for someone more closer to your age?”

“No, and I’ve never believed age should stop two consenting adults from getting to know each other better.”

“Josuke, I’m old enough to be your big sibling though.”

He quirks his brow at that like you’ve just said something weird. “Well, Mr. Joestar, was like ancient when he met my mom so that really doesn’t bother me.”

For some reason, that comment breaks the tension. You barely hold back a grin. “This Mr. Joestar guy is your father then?”

“Biologically speaking, yeah. He’s pretty old now and I never really knew him, but my mom still loves him with everything she has.”

Okay. Now you are really having heart palpitations.

Josuke is exhibiting a surprising amount of maturity right now, making you eat your words about him being too young for you. Why did he have to be so convincing on top of being cute?

“Give me a chance,” he says. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

After mulling over it for a moment, you finally acquiesce.

“Alright, Josuke. One date, and we’ll see from there.” and just to catch him off guard, you peck his cheek. “Okay?”

“Y-Yeah! Of course, it’ll be perfect!”

Taking the empty lemonade glass from him, you both re-enter your home with smiles on your faces. Josuke stays a little longer and you both chat for a while then make plans for your date. You get to learn about how much of a hopeless romantic he is and how he’s a firm believer in love. He makes it very clear that he doesn’t want a fling and that he’s looking for long-term. All of these things surprise you, as they aren’t what you’d expect from someone as gorgeous as him.

By the time the sun is setting, you know it’s time for you two to part ways. Josuke stands at your foyer with pursed lips and a blush on his cheeks. “Can I...kiss you?”

To answer his question, you lean up and press a soft kiss on his mouth. Josuke’s strong arms snake around your hips, drawing you closer into his sturdy frame. His plush lips are gentle and pliant against your own. 

When Josuke finally pulls back he is presented with the sight of your closed eyes and kiss-reddened lips and it’s the most enthralling two seconds ever. He thinks you're so freaking beautiful.

“Alright handy-man,” you say as you give him one last peck on the corner of his mouth. “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, sure thing!”

Ironically enough, you have this nightmare of a heatwave to thank for your date with Morioh Cho’s favorite dreamboat.

[teamhook]

Think Like a Woman Ch 6

Hello. Okay so here we go. This is the beginning of my updates. Since it has been so long I will share a link to the first chapter and to the current.

I want to thank @ultraluckycatnd for being the lovely beta she is. @hookedonapirate for the art.

AO3 |CH1| |CH6|

FFN |CH1| |CH6|

Killian strides down the street to work with a new found vigor, leaning into the women walking by. Each of them gives him a piece of their mind as he does. He, in turn, gives them a smile and a wink when they notice his proximity

  He enters his work with a broad smile. Lighter than he’s felt in days. 

 Not far from Killian, Will is frantically questioning the object of his affection. “Anastasia, so you don’t think I’m overpaid or gay?”

 She blinks. “No, I never said that!”

 “No, I never said you said it, but do you think it?”

 “No, I don’t. I’m sorry, Will, I really have a lot of work.” She starts walking away from him. At the same time, Killian reaches her and smiles. She smiles back and her thoughts take over. I wonder who told Will. I just think he is a little too into the bromance with Killian .

 Killian smiles as he listens to Anastasia’s thoughts. He shakes his head. Then a different voice catches his attention.  

 The soft voice sounds loud in his ears. They won't even notice when I'm gone, she sniffled. They'll only notice when the paperwork starts to pile up. Then they will wonder what happened to the nerd that carries all the paperwork back and forth .

 Will stares at him confused. "What are you doing, Killian?"

 Killian shakes his head. "I'm sorry, were you saying something?"

 "I was just saying that you were wrong about Anastasia."

 Killian quirks a brow. "Are you sure? I don't know if she would be honest with you."

 Will turns to face Killian and then is assaulted by papers flying everywhere as he collides with someone.

 The girl scrambles to pick up all the papers from the floor. Will is too busy checking himself to notice the distress of the poor girl.

 The girl is about to pick up a paper from the floor when a hand beats her to it.

 "Hey, I need that!" she says as she looks up to meet blue eyes.

 "Sorry, lass. I was only trying to help."

 The girl was obviously nervous. "I'm sorry Mr. Jones. I should have been more careful."

 He smiles. "No, lass. Will should have been paying attention. I'm sorry, uhm-"

 She gasps. "You can call me Tink." She gives a depreciating laugh. "My parents had a funny sense of humor."

 "I think it's a lovely name. I'm a big fan of J.M. Barrie's Peter Pan," he says with an encouraging smile.

 "Mr. Jones, thank you for the help," Tink says as she arranges the papers neatly and walks away.

 Will was staring at Killian with a confused expression. "Mate, are you trying to hit on the little nerd girl?"

 As Tink gets farther away, he can barely hear her thoughts; Maybe things aren't that bad.

 "Come on, I'll walk you to your office. Killian, you are distracted today."

 "I'm fine." The friends make their way to Killian's office.

 Jasmine is sitting on his chair talking on the phone and as she notices him, she ends the call. "Mr. Jones! Is there anything you need?"

 Killian stares at her and gives her one of his most charming smiles. "No lass. I was wondering, though, how's the boyfriend in Israel? Oh, and thank you for all your hard work. I don't say that enough."

 Jasmine's eyes widen at the mention of the boyfriend. "How about some coffee? Or perhaps a sandwich?"

 Killian waves her off. "I'm alright and if I get hungry or thirsty, I know where the break room is."

 Will just takes in the scene in front of him with a raised brow.

 Jasmine blushes and leaves the room as quickly as she can while thinking, I hope he doesn't fire me. And how did he know about Aladdin?

 "What was that about?"

 Killian laughs. "Oh, she uses the company phone to call her boyfriend in Israel."

 "Oh..."

 "Will, if you could please excuse me, I'm going to put my newfound ability to good use. I'm going to find out what women want." Killian smiles mischievously and leaves his friend in his office.

  Killian is walking towards what should have been his new office. The door is ajar and as he is about to knock on the door frame, his ears perk up at the voice on the other side.

 "Thank you. Mary Margaret, you are the best!"

 He hears the distinctive sound of a phone being hung up and finally knocks.

 "Please, come in!"

 Killian opens the door and strides in with a smile.

 Emma looks up as she continues to scribble down on a paper. Nike women's division . "Hello, is there anything I can help you with?"

 Killian looks around the office. "I love what you've done to the place."

 Emma tilts her head. "Thank you."

 Emma looks at Killian as he makes himself at home and sits down across from her. Their eyes lock on each other.

 Emma fidgets in her seat. Why does it always feel like he's checking me out? What is he really up to? She knows there is something underneath the surface with him. She can always tell when someone is lying to her but with Killian Jones, her lie detector isn't working properly. But there was something definitely there.

 "Lovely art. Such a lovely collection." He smiles.

 "Thank you." He has no idea they're Bourke-White.

 Killian stands and inspects the photos closely. "I'm sorry, are they all Margaret Bourke-White?" He nods in approval.

 Emma gets to her feet as well and stands next to him. She looks at him, amazed he knew the artist and smiles. "Yes. They are all hers. So how is it going?"

 He bites his bottom lip unconsciously. "I was about to ask you the same," he says as he scratches behind his ear.

 She grimaces. "I'm evaluating the staff. That's never an easy thing."

 "I imagine not." He pauses for a second. "I don't want to beat around the bush. What I'd like to propose--"

  Ooo is he proposing so soon?

 Killian stammers and chuckles nervously. "As I was saying, I don't know about the products you're going after, but I do believe I can sell anything... once I know the buyer's needs. What I'd like, with your kind indulgence of course, is to go after the whale. I mean, the big one you really want to land. I'll learn what I need to know, and I'll reel them in for us."

  No, I think I will reel them in for us.

 "Unless you are going after something in particular."

 "There are several possibilities out there."

 "But who is the big great whale?"

 She’s looking at him again, studying him to try to get a read on him.

 "Perhaps Nike, women's division?"

 Emma scrunches her nose. "You heard that they were in the market? Amazing. I was told no one knew."

 He smirks. "I got wind of it. Come on, lass. You knew too. Besides, it's okay if I know what you know. We're on the same team, aren't we?"

 "Yeah." She nods, unconvinced.

 "I recently heard someone say that two heads are better than one."

 "Oh, you were listening."

 "More than you know."

 "Okay, Nike is shopping quietly. If they make a change, they're going to move fast. This is a tough one for us to get but if we got it... That's all we would need."

 "And what do they want exactly?"

 "They want to empower women," she says with a raised brow. "You weren't exactly channeling your softer side. Nike is hard-core woman power. They want to reach women on a very real level. Are you sure you're up to the challenge?"

 He smiles. "You have no idea." His mind had drifted to below the waist as she was talking. He admits that she is a beautiful woman. He bites his bottom lip. "You'll find I'm always up for a challenge. You get them here in two weeks and I'll be ready."

 A young girl opens the door. "Excuse me Miss Swan, you got another one." She enters with flowers and glances at Killian and discreetly checks him out. Wow!!

 Emma smiles. "Thank you.” She waits for the girl to leave, then turns her attention back to Killian. This guy is kind of excitin g.

 Killian chuckles lowly.

 Before anything else can be said between them, the door bursts open, and their boss enters.

 "I'm so happy I caught you both. I want you to look at these boards for U.S. Air before they come by." George hands the boards to Emma and as she is looking them over, Killian stands behind her. He takes her scent in and tries hard not to imagine her bent over in front of him. Emma feels his presence behind her and his cologne makes its way to her nostrils. She forces a smile as she stops herself from getting distracted by a pretty face. She can't make the same mistake twice. Emma clears her throat as she looks over the boards. I don't like the graphics, they feel parochial. Maybe they would be better in black and white .

 "What do you think, Killian?" George asks expectantly.

 "I'm sorry, lass. May I?" he asks Emma from behind her in a sultry tone.

 "Sure." Emma hands the boards to him, barely able to hide the goosebumps that emerge from his proximity and the sound of his voice so close.

 He took the boards and thoughtfully turned his attention to George. "I don't know who you had working on these. The graphics are, what's the word... parochial. What do you think Emma?"

 She stares at Killian dumbfounded. "I agree."

 Killian smiles. "George, I would suggest getting them done up in black and white? That would sure punch it up."

 "Yeah, I was thinking the same thing." Emma says as her eyes meet Killian's gaze.

 "Thank you, Killian. I like that. Black and white could really help make it better. Good idea," George says.

 "George, wait. In case they find Killian's idea too retro, perhaps something about getting on-line at the airport."

 George cuts her off. "No, I think we're good. I really liked Killian's idea."

 "Great," Emma says deflated.

 "Hey, do you want to come over later? I got a new box of Cubans."

 "Sounds good. I will stop by later," Killian says, as Emma says practically at the same time, "Cool".

 George turns to Emma. "I didn't know you smoked cigars." He looks at her oddly. Before leaving the room, he turns to Emma one last time. "Your office is looking classy. I love the red." With those words, he walks out and closes the door. 

 Emma and Killian stay in uncomfortable silence. He gives her a small smile before she walks to the assortment of flower arrangements she has received.

 Killian can't stand the silence. For once, he wishes she would think anything, even if that thought was that he was the worst human around, but instead he is met with silence.

 The phone rings. Emma walks back to her desk and picks it up. Her attention finally returns to him. "You have a call from your daughter."

 He doesn't correct her as he makes his way to grab the phone.

  He has a daughter? I didn't know he was married.

 "My niece. She is staying with me. Hello, Annabeth," he says on the phone.

 Emma is paying close attention to him without making it obvious, or so she thought.

 After a few minutes, she hears, "Alright sweetheart, I'll see you at home," before Killian hangs up.

  Total shocker, he is a nice guy.

 "Sorry about that. My niece is staying with me while her parents are away, and she wanted to know if she could have friends over," Killian shares with her after noticing the intensity she is looking at him with.

 "Oh, you two must be close," she says.

 He looks away. "Not as close as we should be."

 "I'm sure she knows you love her. How old is she?"

 "She's fifteen. She's an only child. My brother, her father, failed to tell me she was dating an older boy."

 "And you don't approve?"

 "It's not that I don't approve, but shouldn't my brother? We're men and once upon a time we were both young lads. We both know what's going on in the kid's mind. She is going to prom with him. Isn't that when a lot of young girls engage in activities they shouldn't?"

 "I think your niece is more worried about the dress. Once you got the dress handled, it's all downhill from there," Emma says encouragingly. This feels like a date, he needs to go.

 "I should go do some research downtown, get inside women's heads," he says with a grin.

 "If you need any help--"

 "Oh don't worry, I'll be picking your brain."

 "Good." He walks out with a smile, thinking she won't last a month.

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