#he looks...... Like he did before when he comes back to earth

[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ requiem of a cringe

did something embarrassing last night and was like "I need to go crawl in a hole and die. OR I could write"

type of post: blurbs characters: cater, rook, jack, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral (the term "damsel in distress" is used in vil's part, but it's meant to be teasing and not indicative of the reader's gender), reader is yuu, rook is rook

I. Talks Too Much

It's not that you're trying to be annoying.

Your mouth simply moves faster than your mind, and before you know it, you've been talking for twenty uninterrupted minutes about... well... nothing.

You always notice that uncomfortable, irritated look on their face just after you're done. And then you keep rambling in an attempt to make it less awkward (it never does).

And now you're here, hiding in the hedge maze outside Heartslabyul, thinking about getting lost and never coming out of it.

Of course, if anyone were to find you now, it'd be him.

"Hey, hon~ you busy?"

"Please, not now, Cater," you mutter.

The boy stills, looking a little taken aback by how miserable you sound.

"Are you still upset about that thing at the Unbirthday Party? That was hours ago, babe! I bet no one even remembers,"

You physically cringe. The faces of your uncomfortable tablemates won't seem to leave your memory...

"I remember it," you murmur, burying your face in your hands. "I'm so annoying."

For once, Cater is quiet. A minute goes by, and you think he may have left, until you hear the grass crunching under his knees as he kneels down and pulls you into a hug.

"You are not annoying. And even if you were, it'd only make me like you more," he mutters, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"Understand?"

Your surprise at his change in tone doesn't stop you from hugging back. "Understood,"

You hadn't meant to say all of that.

You just spilled a potion you'd been working on for hours, and amidst your frustrated floor-scrubbing, you had vented about your entire week to your poor lab partner, a person you had been trying to impress all semester.

He had, gracefully, let you finish your rant, and then let you sit in it, just like the harmless potion now coating your knees as you cleaned up the floor.

Then, he awkwardly said: "That... sucks. I guess. I don't know what to say,"

There had probably never, in your whole life, been a person who looked more unhappy to be around you.

Afterwards, you found a nice spot in the woods behind campus to die.

You lie there, hoping nature would reclaim you before next alchemy class, when some purposefully loud rustling in the bushes catches your eye.

"Ah, Trickster! You really should not lie like that- a predator will take that as weakness, non? Are you injured?"

"Only my pride,"

"Talking about it will make you feel better," Rook says. It's more of a demand than a question.

You sigh. "I think I've done enough talking for... ever, actually,"

"Nonsense," he suddenly straddles your waist and pins your wrists to the earth. "I will not move until you tell me the problem, mon cœur."

You're like an animal in a snare. Once Rook has made up his mind, that's it. He will find out.

And so, with a sigh, you let him take the kill- that is, you tell him everything. Your whole, terrible week, the potion incident, the look on your lab partner's face...

When you're done, he's just. Smiling. "I see now. You are embarrassed,"

"Well... yes. You don't think that's embarrassing?"

He beams. "You are simply overflowing with beautiful emotion and passion for la vie! How could I ever find that embarrassing? You and I are not so different,"

In a weird way, that makes sense. Rook is never one to let shame hold him back from expressing his feelings.

He smiles at your pensive expression, and gives you a kiss on the head.

"Mais, next time you are upset, maybe you should come to me first, non?"

II. Clumsy

Forgetful, scatterbrained, oblivious, dimwitted are all words you've become used to hearing.

As well as a few colorful swears.

You have two left feet, even when you're not dancing- you're used to walking into walls, tripping, and dropping things- it just sucks that you have an audience now.

The first years that had gathered around the mess you made- tripping over your own feet and spilling the papers you were meant to deliver to Ace and Deuce all over the floor- are watching with grins and phones out.

You pretend they're not there, even with their taunts and whistles and laughter.

"Hey! Loitering is a waste of time!" someone barks. Literally.

You look up to see Jack moving through the crowd, scolding the other first years for blocking the hall.

When he sees you in the eye of the storm, on your hands and knees picking up your spilled papers, something upset takes his usually-stoic demeanor.

"What's the matter with you?!" he snarls at the boys. "Didn't anyone teach you any manners?! It's rude to stare- and laugh!"

His ears are flattened against his head when he kneels down beside you to help, collecting the papers, and putting them in your hands.

"Come on, we'll be late if you keep 'sittin there,"

Jack pulls you to your feet and gives one final snarl to the other first years before walking you off.

"...Thanks,"

"Eh? Don't mention it," he says. "Leona woulda had my tail if I just walked by..."

You know there's more to it than that, but you don't push. You're just happy he's forgotten to take his hand out of yours.

You can't handle being the center of attention.

For good reason, too- you're awkward, clumsy, and about the least graceful a person can get.

A true Ugly Duckling at a place like NRC. But Vil Schoenheit sees the swan in you. Perhaps that's why he's always been so patient and sweet.

It's a little distracting.

So much is obvious when he waves at you in the hall and, distracted by his smile, you walk right into a wall.

Though you can't see anything but stars after falling on your butt, the stares and snickers of everyone else are hard to miss.

Vil glares them away with a look that could kill twice over, and then stands over you as you lay on the floor.

"Come on," he says, holding out a hand. "I'll check you for concussion."

He brings you to Pomefiore and sits you down, shooing off a few curious underclassmen as he checks your pupils. "Do you feel nauseous?"

"Not really,"

"Then you'll be fine. Just a bump. You really should be more careful, though,"

You've heard that one before. Vil smiles at your dazed expression, and presses a cold compress against your head.

"This will help with the swelling,"

"Thanks," you mutter, still a little out of it. "You're my hero."

His eyebrows raise in true surprise, and then he chuckles. "And that makes you a damsel in distress?"

He doesn't give you a chance to respond before taking away the compress and kissing the red mark on your head.

"Don't think that being so cute is going to distract me. I'll make some time for lessons on poise this weekend,"

III. Unsociable

You'd think that being quiet and staying out of people's ways would get them to leave you alone, but it really just attracts more attention.

And after a grueling period of your tablemates making you the butt of every joke ("wow, I didn't know you could even talk!" "are you quiet because you hate us? come onnn, you can tell me!") you were ready to bury yourself alive.

"I don't ever want to leave," You mumble into the bundle of sheets and blankets on Idia's unmade bed.

"You could stay, y'know," Idia says from his desk, mindlessly scrolling through some gaming forum. "I should blackmail Crowley into letting you stay down here at least half the year."

"Couldn't it be the whole?"

"Nah. You need like, sunlight and stuff,"

"And you don't?!"

Idia snickers. "I'm built different. You know that. I get all my nutrients from blue light... You could at least stay for the weekend, though,"

You roll your eyes.

"...And I'll leak those normies' data. I'm sure I could get into their browser histories and have that emailed to their parents,"

Hm. You genuinely consider it for a moment, but eventually decide to give mercy. You're basically a saint.

"I think I just wanna pretend like I don't exist right now,"

Idia nods in understanding and pushes his gaming chair over to the edge of the bed, before crawling in and wrapping himself around you.

"That can be done. Pancakes tomorrow?"

Sure, there were people who talked to you, but you didn't talk back.

You just don't know how, you suppose. Every time you try, you end up saying the wrong thing, or are accidentally rude, or do something embarrassing.

You don't understand the references people make. You don't get social cues or hints. You have the social skills of an oyster.

Four months at Night Raven College, and you didn't have a single friend.

Well- except for him.

"How are you enjoying your tea?" Malleus asks, polite and curt as ever.

You take another sip- it's tangy, sweet, with a hint of bitterness. Some sort of Briar Valley blend that Malleus had imported just for you.

"I really like it,"

He smiles. "I'm pleased,"

One of the things you find so agreeable about Malleus is his simplicity. He often says exactly what he means; albeit, in a sort of 13th century Lord sort of way.

There's less stress with him. You don't have to pretend to be interesting, or outgoing, or cool. You can just be... you.

Because he likes you.

"You know," you say with a faint smile. "You're so nice to me. Sometimes I think that you're the only person I need. I could be happy with just you for the rest of my life."

You had meant that casually, but when you look back up from your cup, Malleus has this... look.

Wide-eyed, his lips pressed firmly together. There's even a dusting of color on his cheeks.

"Oh," you internally panic. Was that too much? Was that weird? Did you make things awkward again? Crap, you should have just acted normal, what's wrong with you?! "S-sorry, I-"

"Do you truly mean that?"

You go quiet, looking back at him with wide eyes. Your heart is pounding against your chest.

"...Yes,"

Malleus hums, his expression becoming more... pensive, and then...

He smiles. "I feel the same. Shall we go for a walk while the night is still young?"

[dumbkiri]

A FEAST FOR BIRDS

𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐝 𝐱 𝐅! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

When Jason Todd comes back to earth and faces off with his vigilante family along with villains, he settles his problems as much as he could. He reunited with his family, but still kicked villain ass. As the holidays approach, Jason is struck with a range of emotions. An unexpected visitor makes her way in Wayne manor with a child in her arms. Apparently, the child belongs to him.

[ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP]

“I am moving back into Gotham due to some company issues. I wanted to see if Jay can stay at your place for a bit? Maybe spend Thanksgiving with you and the boys? He would love to see his uncles and of course, his grandfathers. It would mean a lot to us if you can do this. If not, I can work around the company with him by my side. One day he will inherit what my father built, and I might as well get him to see his own building. Anyways, please let me know what you think. We miss you and the family a lot, see you soon Bruce.” 

Dick leaned back into his chair and listened to the recent voicemail [Name] left for Bruce. Her voice rang with some truth while it felt like she was hiding something. He fiddled around with one of Batman’s batarangs thinking about the woman. They haven’t seen her or Jay in two years. He had to have missed something in her voice message. He knows it. 

Dick leaned forward and pressed play on the voicemail, listening to it for the fifth time this afternoon. 

“I am moving back into Gotham due to some company issues.”

 This part alone made no sense to him. If his memory serves him right, Bruce and [Name] came to an agreement that he would watch over the [L.Name] Industry allowing her to live her life with Jay. Bruce never mentioned any “company issues” that she brought up in the call. Then again Bruce has Lucius to run Wayne Enterprise, so maybe Bruce neglected her company due to his commitment to being Batman. Although, that still made no sense because [F.Name] and Bruce had a great partnership. 

[Name]’s dad knew who Bruce truly was in the night thus granting Lucius to work very closely with one another. [F.Name] would create technology that Lucius would then make into gadgets for Batman. After [F.Name] passed away, the plans he had were burned to make sure they didn’t get into the wrong hands. Bruce feared to keep the works [F.Name] worked endlessly on and made sure to get rid of everything he could in his archives. 

“Maybe spend Thanksgiving with you and the boys?”

Thanksgiving…that is tomorrow!

“Bruce! Alfred! ” Dick shot up from his chair when the realization hit him. He dressed out of his uniform and into his casual clothing as quickly as he could. Whenever [Name] did drop Jay off for the holidays, she did it the day before so he could spend more time with them. 

A million worries were hurdled at his body thinking back to another Wayne that was present in the house. “Jason, if you can hear me from down here!” Dick huffed up the stairs, “Let’s go out for some lunch! I am so hungry!” Was it a lame excuse for his brother-in-arms, yes. But if he had a chance to spare Jason from seeing [Name], he would do it in a heartbeat. Jason doesn’t know he has a kid, let alone a kid with his ex-girlfriend. 

When Bruce described the relationship between Jason and [Name], he went on about true love. A happiness he didn’t think would surround him when he watched Jason smile at [Name]. The teasing he would do to the both of them like a real parent. Bruce watched them create a beautiful bond at a young age. 

Then when Jason died, Bruce watched the heartbreak crush [Name]’s heart. Dick remembers the conversation between him and Bruce when the news of her pregnancy hit him like a truck. 

..

“She looked at me like I killed him.” 

“Bruce, you can’t think like that. [Name] is just hurting, you said so many times. They were meant to be together.” 

“She told me that she’s pregnant.” 

“W-what? She’s only 16, Jason really- Fuck, what do we do now? We have to support her, you did tell her that right?” 

“Of course, I did. She accepted my help and she told me that she wants us to get to know the child. That she still wants to be a part of our family. So I told her that I will send $4000 to her account every month for any expenses she has. She didn’t accept any more and I didn’t agree to any less. I don’t feel right though.” 

“What do you mean by that?” 

“I mean that we get to live and see the child Jason made with [Name]. We get the luxury of knowing his child while he rots in the ground. If he knew, do you think he would have left? If [Name] got to him before the fake letter, would he have stayed?”

“Maybe, but at least we can do right by him and support his family. That’s all we can do for him now. It’s okay to cry, Bruce. Loss shouldn’t be associated with shame.”

..

He reached the top of the stairs and cringed at the sound of the doorbell ringing throughout the mansion. 

As casually as he could, Dick entered the living room and heard the echo of two voices at the entrance of Wayne Manor. He sneaked around the couches and furniture thinking someone at the door would catch him from so far away. 

“Who are you hiding from?” 

Dick panicked and spun around to see Jason on the couch reading a book. He heard Alfred welcome [Name] into the manor and he knew the old man would lead her to them. With fast thinking, Dick ran over to Jason and shoved his sunglasses onto his face, “Quick! Wear these and this!” Then he stuffed a black face mask into Jason’s book. 

“Dick, what-” 

“Jason, please!” Dick pleaded and helped put the sunglasses on while Jason reluctantly put the face mask on. Jason wanted to ask more until Alfred walked in with a woman and a child in her arms. Swiftly, Dick pulled Jason’s red hoodie over his head and turned around to greet the visitors. 

“[Name], it’s so nice to see you!” Dick shouted and enunciated her name to get it through Jason’s thick skull. He walked over to the woman and gave her a hug mindful of the sleeping child in her arms…wait, what? Jason squinted behind the sunglasses and observed the child some more which Dick fawned over like some lovesick idiot. 

“Wow, he’s grown so much,” Dick awed at the sight of the child and gently touched the unruly black hair that reminded him so much of the Wayne boys. 

“I’m sorry for the apparent unexpected visit, I did leave a voicemail for Bruce,” [Name] huffed and shifted her child more comfortably in her arms to which Dick reached his arms out to her. Without hesitation, [Name] smiled gratefully and handed her kid over to Dick. She watched Dick whisper to her sleeping son and told him, “We’ve decided to do a road trip instead of flying. Jay insisted that he wanted to see the “world”, but there’s only so much adventure he can handle. He’s going to wake up super excited to see his favorite uncle.” 

Dick’s mind blew up as his eyes looked from Jay to [Name] who giggled at his reaction. “You’re kidding, he said that? I’m his favorite uncle?” 

Well that confirmed to Jason that the kid is definitely not Dick’s. Honestly he’d be pissed if Dick had a child with his ex-girlfriend. There were so many questions running through his head and he wanted to ask them. But the silent glare he got from Alfred in the corner of the room told him to stay put with not a word. 

“Yes, it’s always been you, Dick,” [Name] unwrapped her scarf from her neck and shoulders. Finally her eyes spotted the giant man sitting on the couch adjacent to where her family was at. She observed him quietly and looked down at the book in his gloved hands. Dick nor Alfred introduced the stranger to her, so she took it upon herself to be polite. 

“Hello,” She stepped around Dick and reached her hand out with a courteous smile, “My name is [Name] [L.Name].”

Jason closed his book and stood up from the couch. He towered over her and flashbacks of their time together brought longing in his chest. He remembered everything about her from her smile, to her eyes, to her personality. She hadn’t changed one bit. He reached his hand out and shook hers. His tongue twisted and more questions slammed into him. 

“This is my friend, Lazlo,” Dick chimed nervously, internally cringing at the fake name he gave Jason. 

This piqued [Name]’s interest and she giggled, “Lazlo, that’s a cool name. Can he hear me or speak to me?” She asked, releasing Jason’s hand and quietly whispered the last part over her shoulder to her friend. 

Dick shook his head and said, “He’s actually a mute. Anyways what brings you here to Gotham. Don’t say holiday cheer either.” He walked between Jason and [Name] and took a seat next to Jason's closed book. Meanwhile Alfred dismissed himself knowing that Jason will not be able to say a word. 

Jason sat back in his seat while [Name] sat on the couch across from them. She visibly relaxed in comfort and sighed tiredly, “My mother wants to force a marriage onto me and like some teenager, I ran away. Plus there are some things I have to do at the company. I wanted to see if you guys are okay with babysitting Jay while I dust the old mansion down the street. Haven’t been there in years.”

She laughed and Dick joined her. He shifted Jay into his lap and said, “Of course, we would be happy to take care of the little one. I, for one, missed him a lot. Is the marriage the reason why we haven’t seen either of you? It seems like a lot.” 

[Name] straightened out her back and looked away from his bright blue eyes. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes as she explained a bit more, “Yes, it’s a reason. The marriage is with a business partner. He’s a bit older than me and has spoken about having a family with me. My mother is ecstatic about more grandchildren, but I am not. There is only one person I truly love and that is Jay’s father. I cannot imagine having children with someone else when Jason is still fresh on my mind. And he gave me a brilliant child to cherish in his memory.” 

Dick could see Jason tense up at the revelation and saw from the corner of his eyes Jason look at Jay sleeping in his arms. The atmosphere grew heavier by the second and he had to do something. Something to appease Jason’s longing. 

“Do you think Lazlo can hold Jay? He knew Jason before his death and-” 

“Of course!” [Name] gestured to Jason, with a kind smile on her face, “I’m sorry for your loss, Lazlo. But I’m going to tell you now, Jay looks exactly like his father.” She giggled and Dick looked at Jason with expecting eyes. 

Slowly, Jason sat up and hesitantly opened his arms up. He wasn’t ready to hold his child while keeping his emotions bottled up. “You can do this, Lazlo,” Dick’s voice reassured him, “He won’t break in your arms.” 

[Name] laughed from her spot and pointed at Dick, “Hey, you were afraid to hold him the first time too!” 

Dick shrugged and argued back, “He was a lot smaller back then.” Then he scooted closer to Jason making the transfer a lot easier for the both of them. In his sleep, Jay immediately snuggled up against Jason’s chest surprising the boy’s mother. 

“Oh wow,” [Name] awed at the sight, “He normally doesn’t do that. Jay only snuggles into me, I’m kinda jealous he’s doing it with someone else.” She gave Jason a fake pout with a teasing tone in her gentle voice. But all he could focus on was the peaceful look on the child’s face. 

This boy is his son. 

Jason pulled Jay closer to his body as his chin touched the crown of the boy’s head. Then he felt a lone tear slide down his cheek. Thankfully he wore a face mask and sunglasses to hide his joy. [Name] spoke the truth when she said Jay looked like him. Jay is his mini-me. 

“So how many instruments can he play now?” Dick asked. 

“He only plays the piano, Dick,” [Name] rolled her eyes playfully, “but he can speak three languages. Sign language being one of them.”

Sign language? Jason thought and picked his head up with interest. He recalls that they learned sign language for fun to talk behind her mother’s back. 

“That’s right, I remember you teaching him. Although, I think he flipped me off once.” 

“Don’t say that!” [Name] laughed. 

“I’m being serious!” Dick shouted back with a smirk on his face. 

Jason leaned back into the couch while Jay fit perfectly in his arms. The boy laid on his chest with his legs being held in a gentle, but protective grip. Jay’s head laid onto his shoulder and Jason could hear the soft breaths that left the boy’s lungs. Soon, the voices of [Name] and Dick dissipated and the breathing of his son lulled him to sleep. 

Jason would do anything to keep [Name] and Jay to himself. Even if that means revealing himself to them in the near future. For now, he’s comfortable with blissful ignorance. 

……

“Mama, can I stay in Mister Lazlo’s arms a bit longer?” 

A tiny voice woke Jason from his sleep and he felt small hands clenching the sides of his hoodie. He blinked his weary eyes open and saw the living room in a dark tint. He forgot he wore sunglasses to hide his face along with the face mask. 

“Jay, it’s time for dinner. You and Mister Lazlo have slept long enough. You both need to eat. And you don’t want Grandpa or your uncles waiting for long do you?” 

“But he feels safe and warm, mama.” Jay mumbled and Jason slowly rose up from the couch, steadying a startled Jay in his hold. He looked down at the child with a funny bedhead and couldn’t help but chuckle at the surprised look on the boy’s face. 

[Name] fixed her son’s hair and looked at him lovingly, “See, Mister Lazlo is ready to eat too. Perhaps you can ask if he wants to sit next to you for dinner?” She looked at her son expectantly and the little boy nodded his head. He raised his arms up and sighed to Jason, 

“Mister Lazlo, would you sit next to me, fuck you.”

The ending part took Jason and [Name] completely off guard and the mother reacted quickly pushing her son’s hands down to his sides. With a scolding shout, she said, “JJ, where in the world did you learn that?” She gave Jay a hard look and the little boy obviously seemed confused. 

“What do you mean, mama? I asked him nicely.” Jay tilted his head to the side in a questioning manner. 

“That last sign, isn’t really- It’s a bad word, JJ!” [Name] huffed and softened her look, “Who taught you that and what did they say it meant?” 

What Jay answered made sense to Jason, “Uncle Damian said that it meant ‘please’. He said to only use it for them and not you though.”

“So Dick was right when he mentioned you flipped him off,” She rolled her eyes then focused back on her son, “Please, don’t use that anymore, it’s really rude. Use the sign for me as please from now on, understood?” 

Jay nodded his head obediently then looked at Jason with bright silver-blue eyes, “Understood, mama. Sorry Mister Lazlo.” 

Jason chuckled and shook his head, signing, “It’s okay, you did great. And yes, I would like to sit by you for dinner. As long as you give me any leftovers you have.” 

Jay giggled and jumped up signing back, “It’s a deal!” The little boy ran off towards the direction of the kitchen and the adults were left on their own. 

“He gets excited to meet new people,” [Name] spoke softly, her eyes warming up talking about her son. “JJ has a heart of gold and he loves everyone he meets like his own family. Especially the Waynes. When his father passed away, I panicked because he wouldn’t have a father figure to be his mentor. Yet Bruce proved me wrong. JJ instantly grew fond of his grandpa and uncles. They all became his father figure, some better than others in different aspects. Speaking of which, I might have to wrestle Damian for teaching Jay that obscene gesture.” 

[Name] laughed at the end and looked at Jason for some approval. He quickly signed to her, “We can jump him together. The demon spawn won’t know what will hit him.”

Just like her son, she smiled and said, “It’s a deal.”

[starlightkun]

finders keepers ⇢ teaser 2

⇢ teaser word count: 948 | full fic: 37.8k total (22.7k & 15.1k) ⇢ genre: sci-fi/science fantasy au, soulmate au, alien!jungwoo, human!reader, slow burn, fluff and angst ⇢ warnings: blood/injury mentions (but like, alien blood, if that makes a difference?), a couple needle/injection mentions, if u get secondhand embarrassment this one might hurt in places, a couple crude jokes about alien stuff iykwim (reader’s friends r kind of the worst), this fic is just a rlly sweet soulmate au i swear idk why these tags look horrendous 😭 ⇢ extra info: this will be released in two parts bc of tumblr’s 1000-block limit that was put in place to hurt me personally :)) BUT both parts will be released on the same day ⇢ estimated release: saturday, november 30, 2024, 3:00 p.m. eastern time (sign up for my taglist here)

The screen of your phone lit up from where it sat on the dashboard of Jungwoo’s spaceship, and you immediately grabbed it. It was Donghyuck, and at this point, you would’ve taken your bestie ‘SPAM LIKELY’ to get you out of here.

“Hey, it’s Hyuck, you got it here?” You asked Jungwoo, already on your feet.

“Yes, I’ll be okay,” Jungwoo confirmed, eyes momentarily leaving the screen to meet yours.

You clambered out of the hatch with haste, taking off into the trees. Hastily sending Donghyuck a text that you’d call him back in a minute, you practically bolted back up the cliffside to get to the road before doing just that.

Hyuck picked up before it could even ring once, not wasting any time, “Hey, how’s our pet alien?”

“He has a name,” you retorted, still out of breath.

“He doesn’t seem to mind when I call him that.”

“He probably doesn’t understand how derogatory it could be. His language might not have a direct equivalent for the concept.”

“Yeah, whatever, how is he?”

“Fine. All of his wounds have healed.”

Your friend’s tone immediately shifted. “You sound weird. What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” You insisted.

“Y/N.”

“Promise not to tell anyone?”

“Sure.”

And so after explaining your situation to Donghyuck to the best of your ability, you waited with bated breath for his response.

“Oh my God, he’s going to lay his eggs in you,” he gasped.

“Hyuck! Gross!” You hissed, half-ready to hang up right then.

“I’ve seen enough alien movies to know where this is going.”

“Or watched too much weird porn.”

“You didn’t laugh at my joke, clearly you’re in crisis, sorry.” His apology sounded sincere.

You sighed, staring down into the trees below you that you knew contained a spaceship and spaceman that weren’t from here, that didn’t belong here. “I mean, he’s still fixing his ship to leave…��

“What if he plans on abducting you and taking you with him?”

“Stop it!” You scolded him again. “Jungwoo wouldn’t do that.”

“You seriously think he’ll just leave his mate behind?”

“You are way too comfortable saying that word.”

“This is not about my nighttime proclivities.”

“If I told him to, yeah, I think he would. He’s been super respectful, all things considered.”

“Okay… whatever…”

You were worried. Jungwoo had continued fixing his ship, but with each passing day, you swore he was looking worse again. He said his wounds had completely healed inside and out, but the pallor of his skin didn’t look right, he was moving slower again, and he didn’t eat as much at meals. You took a risk and took him there during the day today, not wanting to risk drawing out his stay on Earth any longer than necessary.

Just getting him down to the ship today was perilous, as he tripped going down the last of the hillside. A rock had cut his arm, thankfully not very deep, but the sight of the deep blue blood did nothing to calm your anxious mind. He let you take a second to use a first aid kit in the ship on him, but then was right back to business as usual, fixing his ship.

“How’s it coming along?” You asked, hovering over him worriedly as he sat on the floor, working on a panel under the control console.

“It’s almost done,” he informed you quietly.

“Jungwoo, you don’t look okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“Is it the hydrogen? Or something else that you can’t get on Earth?” You went to press the back of your hand to his forehead. It was sticky with sweat, but simultaneously cold and clammy. “Shit, dude, you feel awful.”

“I’m—I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I just need to get back to-to Galaria.”

“Okay, yeah,” you nodded. “Let’s get you back. You said it’s almost done. What else do you need?”

“One of your friends is a mechanic?”

“Yeah, Yuta. He fixes cars.” You were slightly alarmed that he apparently couldn’t remember which one.

Jungwoo held out a long, thin black tube to you. “Could you ask him if he has something like this? Twice as long?”

“Of course! I'll go right now!” You took the tube from him. “You stay right here. Rest, okay?”

He nodded, leaning against the panel and shutting his eyes.

You ran into Yuta’s auto shop, skidding to a stop and nearly crashing into a bench and toolbox, drawing the attention of everyone in the shop. Every head whipped over to look at you, and Yuta pushed himself out from under a truck on the far side of the shop.

“Yuta!” You dashed over to him, ignoring the attempts at conversation from his coworkers as you ran by them.

“Off-limits, assholes!” Yuta yelled back at them before focusing on you again, grabbing a rag to wipe his hands off. “Y/N, what are you doing here?”

“It’s Jungwoo, he needs something like this, but double the length.” You held the tube out to him. “Do you have anything like it? I’ll pay for it.”

Yuta inspected it with a furrowed brow, and you dropped your voice even lower as the sounds of the auto shop rose again.

“Please, he’s-he’s really not doing well. I don’t know how much longer he can be here, Yuta. Something about Earth, it’s not good for him. I’m really worried.”

“Yeah, I would be if I were you.” Yuta handed the tube back to you, then crossed his arms over his chest. “I gave him a part just like that two days ago. He said it was the last piece he needed.”

“What?!” Your heart fell to the pit of your stomach.

“I gave him a new brake hose two days ago. Unless he blew it up again, this isn’t it.”

“I’ve got to go.” You took off towards the door of the garage. “Bye, Yuta! Thanks!”

“See you around!”

TEASER TAGLIST

@bee-the-loser @ppddpjdr @tearinka @yoursyuno @yutasputa69 @winkeuu

[marlynnofmany]

Singing the Return

(A followup to Singing the Approach)

Our ship touched down like usual, with the captain in the cockpit along with a pilot (it was Kavlae’s shift), talking to the locals about where to park. In a slight departure from usual, this landing pad wasn’t anywhere near the ground. It was on top of a cactus-tree-thing that thankfully (very thankfully) didn’t sway in the wind.

I waited in the cargo bay with Zhee. He was a little twitchy, flicking his antenna and shuffling his legs and generally not holding still. I wasn’t about to say anything about it, but I suspected Zhee wasn’t a fan of heights.

Luckily for him, the landing pad was broad enough that he didn’t need to get close to the edge. Unluckily for him, Captain Sunlight had suggested that he be part of the delivery crew today because he’d been there when we met the clients before, and they would be expecting him.

With the amount he was flexing his pinchers, you’d think he was the one the clients had offered to give a tour of their skyscraper cactus city.

As the bay door started to open, Zhee asked me, “Did you check if that belt has a full charge?”

“Yes I did,” I told him, pushing the button on my gravity belt to display a full line of power lights. “And Mimi even looked it over for loose wires or whatever. I’m all set.”

“Good,” Zhee said, angling his torso so that his front half was higher — the Mesmer equivalent of standing up straight. I was continually amused by how much praying mantises resembled centaurs, and how much this particular alien species resembled Earth bugs. This wasn’t the time to bring it up, though.

The door was open all the way now, and there was Captain Sunlight, come to lead the way out. I could see a cluster of many-limbed locals waiting outside in the bright sun. The landing surface looked like it was made of red rocks mined nearby. Hopefully they were stable on top of this cactus-tree. The captain waved us forward: Zhee with the crates on a hoversled and me singing my best approximation of the local greeting song.

I’d practiced it on the way here. It was high-pitched but slow, like a songbird in slow motion. Or, more accurately, like a songbird trying to sing like a whale. This particular culture interacted regularly with their ground-bound evolutionary cousins, who wouldn’t have made it past the first climbing spike on these cactus towers.

The Tree-grabber in front stepped forward, chirping a reply song, then switching to the more recognizable trade language. “Greetings! We are delighted to smell you.” He waved his mousy ears happily, all four arms folded in front of him.

“And we you,” replied Captain Sunlight, whose people actually said that kind of greeting themselves. Her yellow scales were extra bright in this sun. “Would you like to inspect the merchandise?”

They would. Zhee did his part by prying open the crates with his mighty mantis arms — I don’t know why the supplier of these fruits insisted on packaging them this way, but it was good we had him along — and the Tree-grabbers all made a big deal of sniffing the fruits. The antigrav belts in the other crate got sniffed too, though thankfully they didn’t stink.

I could smell the fruits from where I was standing; that sour smell made my eyes water even at a distance. But no one was paying attention to me, busy as they were with signing for the delivery on the tablet that Captain Sunlight held out. Zhee put the lids back on. I wiped my eyes and admired the view. It was a nice scenic desert scrubland out there, with only the other cactus-trees in the way. I could see the entire sprawling city where the Ground-grabbers lived, and just barely make out the buildings on the distant Air-grabber mesa.

“Are you still interested in a tour?” someone asked.

I turned back and smiled without baring teeth. “Yes please!”

The lead Tree-grabber was returning the tablet to Captain Sunlight while the others moved the crates onto their own low-tech wheeled cart. Behind them, a hatch slid open in the red stones of the landing pad. Zhee towed the hoversled back toward our ship as soon as it was empty.

Captain Sunlight looked up at me. “Travel with care,” she said, which was a polite way of urging me not to trip and fall off the cactus.

“I will,” I told her. “And I have my phone if anything comes up.” That covered a lot of ground. We’d already discussed keeping an eye out for possible delivery needs: offworld items that I might tactfully suggest to the locals. They wouldn’t have thought to ask about the antigrav belts if the subject hadn’t come up in conversation the last time we were here.

“Then kindly follow me to the handpath,” said the many-limbed monkey-mouse. Dang, what was his name? I thought. He had a name. It translated as just a sound. Chirp, right, that’s what it was. I knew that. Totally professional over here. I kindly followed Chirp in the direction of the handpath.

Which was over the edge, because of course it was. Metal handrails like the kind I usually saw at swimming pools waited next to the steps. Chirp led the way.

I set the gravity belt to “catch me if I suddenly plunge downward,” and followed.

I like climbing, right? Big fan. I was all over the playground as a kid, and I never really stopped. It’s particularly fun when I get to be “the one who can reach things high up,” or otherwise be appreciated for climbing a tree or a spaceship or what have you. Occasionally I’ll meet someone else who enjoys being above the ground. Most species seem to prefer being on a safe, level surface.

Not these guys. Wow. I was glad that Captain Sunlight had insisted on the gravity belt, because this was intense. The entire city street system were basically ladders on the outside of skyscrapers.

“This handpath is designed with elders and the occasional visitor in mind,” Chirp called up to me. “Artificial steps and platforms placed regularly.” When I looked down, I saw that he was indeed standing on a platform already, which even had a railing around it. There were more ladders on either side, and other platforms that could be reached with the help of metal handholds.

“That’s very considerate,” I said. Other cactus-trees were close enough that I could watch the agile citizens scurry along the surfaces, using only the natural cactus spikes and small branches. Wild. “Do you have any handpaths inside?” I managed to make it sound casual as I stepped down onto the platform with a perfectly normal heart rate. There was a door here that I hadn’t seen from above.

“There are some,” he said. “Mostly for emergencies.”

I had to laugh. “That’s the opposite of where I’m from.”

“Really?” He perked up in curiosity. “How so?”

“We have tall buildings like this that we made,” I said with a wave toward the towering plants. “Nothing on Earth grows this big, but we can build it. And we do all our travel between levels inside, except for emergency escape ladders on the outside.”

“Fascinating!” Chirp said. “I suppose if you make the whole things yourselves, you can make sure the inside is strong enough to support as many rooms as you need.”

“Yeah, definitely,” I agreed, laying a palm against the smooth cactus wall. “These are pretty soft at the core, huh?”

“Oh yes, that’s why the rooms are kept strictly to the outer layer,” Chirp said. “Come in; let me show you.”

He opened the door and I got ready to duck, since it was just under human height, then a rapid succession of shadows passed over us.

Chirp made an irritated click. “Air-grabbers, come to get in the way again!”

I looked, curious to see what they actually looked like. Both the Tree-grabbers and the Ground-grabbers had complained about them last time.

They looked a lot like I expected: bats with skinny arms held close while they flew. Everybody seemed to have six limbs on this planet.

And varying opinions about personal space. The Air-grabbers fluttered around the cactus towers, inspecting anything that caught their interest. They circled people carrying groceries. They poked their heads into open doors, only to get shooed back out. They arrowed in on the spaceship parked above. And they flew past me repeatedly, almost enough of them to run into each other. High-pitched voices floated on the breeze, but none of them addressed us directly.

“Inside,” Chirp said, opening the door. I followed him in. He shut it firmly, leaving the squeaking cloud of bats outside.

The ceiling was a bit low here, but at least this was a proper civilized room, not something carved directly from the wet cactus innards. Multiple desks, counters, and couches made it look like an info center, or some other kind of “just arrived from above” hub. I wondered if there was a lot of travel between cactus cities here. Several locals waited in line.

Then someone else rushed in after us, complaining in her own chittering language, and she pulled up short when she saw the tall alien bent over by the door.

“Hello,” I said.

“My greetings,” she said, edging sideways. “Pardon.” With a quick arm gesture that was probably polite — one to her chest and three outward — she hurried off to stand in line. Everyone else was staring.

I’ve been stared at plenty in my time, so this was only a little awkward. I waved. Small windows that I hadn’t noticed in the walls flickered with passing shadows.

Chirp said, “I apologize for the Air-grabbers. They hardly make a visit pleasant.”

“Is there any way to ask them nicely to leave?” I asked. “I assume you’re tried discussing it with their leaders?”

“Many times.” Chirp looked tired. “They don’t care. As far as they’re concerned, the air is their territory, and it’s our poor luck that we have to breathe it.”

“How rude,” I murmured, not wanting to cast judgement on an alien culture. But my present audience more than agreed.

“Yes, they are very rude,” Chirp said, working up to a proper rant. “Shouting at them does no good, since they just find it funny. Bad weather will make them leave, but that’s a problem for us too, and hardly something we can conjure up on a whim. Though they did seem to dislike the sound of the wind through the observatory when half the windows were left open; that we could probably do on purpose. Not very helpful here, though.”

“What kind of sound was it?” I asked, half an idea forming.

“A very high shriek,” he told me. “Almost too high to hear. The wind did some strange things with those windows.”

“I wonder if you could ward them off with noise,” I said.

“Maybe,” he said, not sounding terribly optimistic. “Like I said, yelling doesn’t help, and that’s loud too.”

Somebody else scrambled through the door, complaining. This guy didn’t even see me, just slamming the door and hurrying forward like he was ready to have words with whoever was in charge here. Maybe he was. More shadows passed over the windows.

“Can I try something?” I asked. “A quick loud noise? I’ll do it outside.”

He looked curious at that. “Go ahead. Just make sure not to startle anyone on the handpaths nearby.”

“Of course,” I said. Then I turned my back on the staring eyes, opened the door, and stepped out to where I could stand up to my full height.

No Tree-grabbers nearby. Perfect. I put two fingers in my mouth and let loose with the most ear-piercing whistle I could muster.

Startled bats changed course in midair, flapping and diving to get away, a cloud of chattering alarm and confusion. Judging by the shadows, some of the ones from above had lifted off as well.

I watched for a moment to see that they kept their distance, then I ducked back inside.

“That seemed to work,” I told Chirp.

Chirp was rubbing his ear. “I’m not surprised. Very loud. How well did it work?”

I waved him outside to take a look for himself. He perked up when he saw how far the Air-grabbers had moved back. “That’s the best result I’ve seen yet! I’m sure some of it might be from the surprise of it all, but even so.”

“You said the wind shriek was almost too high to hear,” I said. “Do you think the Air-grabbers can hear sounds that you can’t quite pick up?” Their ears were bigger, but what did I know?

“Now that,” Chirp said decisively, “Is an idea worth pursuing.”

“So there’s this animal on my planet called a dog,” I said. “And a certain kind of whistle that only they can hear…”

By the time my tour was over, I had a representative of the city very interested in having us deliver some offworld noise-makers that might help them keep the peace.

(The rest of the tour was nice; they had some impressive architecture inside those cactuses, and everyone greeted me politely. I didn’t fall off the side once.)

When I climbed back up the ladder to the landing pad, taking care not to focus on the long drop behind me, I was surprised to find a handful of Air-grabbers perched there in conversation with the captain.

Chirp made a disapproving grunt, but said nothing as we walked over.

“Ah, welcome back!” Captain Sunlight said to me. “It looks like our next visit will involve a delivery of fruit to the other above-ground city in these parts.”

The Air-grabber in front smiled with sharp teeth. “Ours is the best.”

“As you say,” Captain Sunlight agreed politely.

“We will need the items delivered directly to an entrance,” said the Air-grabber. “Not to the high ground. Is that something you can do?”

Chirp muttered something that sounded like “Knew it.”

“I’m sure we can manage that,” Captain Sunlight said. “Our ship has some very stable thrusters, and talented pilots. And, failing that—” She looked at me. “Someone experienced with antigrav belts and high places.”

I chuckled and turned off the safety. “That you do.”

~~~

There's an exciting mini-project coming out next week! Details here!

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[lucifermorningstxr]

Unfortunately for the both of them, the moment couldn't last forever after all. Perhaps hoping to Dad for that one wasn't the best call. After everything that'd went down, from Kinley to Eve, all of these months of turmoil later, holding Chloe in his arms was all Lucifer wanted in life right now. He still had actions to atone for though, so when Chloe pulled back and brought up the whole Julian McCaffrey thing, he'd seen it coming. Even so, he wasn't particularly thrilled about that scumbag interrupting him moment, but he owed Chloe an explanation about it.

Lucifer pulled back and looked down at Chloe, leaving his hands on his human as he took a deep breath. He could only be honest, and while he felt the truth wasn't as bad once explained, he still wasn't proud of his actions. "Right. Julian's back..." He shifted on the cushion before continuing. "You should've heard him, Detective. He didn't care about any of them. Gary, Rookie Joan, all the women he'd trafficked, and all the lives he'd ruined. Only in the deepest depths of Hell have I seen souls as remorseless as him. In the moment, punishing him felt right. But do you know what's strange, Detective?" Lucifer paused, resituating his grip on Chloe. "It felt so right when Eve and I stood over him when she smiled at me. When I realised who I am. But now, looking into your eyes... I feel terrible about it. Yes, the bastard got what he deserved, but looking into your eyes now..." He traced a circle on her shoulder with his thumb. "I realise even more that it's who I was, not who I am. Paralysing Julian won't bring all those lives back, will it? It doesn't matter what I do. I can't fix what he's done, and punishing him on Earth like I did only serves to hurt those I'm seeking to protect most of all."

Simply being this close to Chloe, sharing his full vulnerability with his human, made Lucifer feel infinitely better as it pertained to the prophecy. She must be right because how could evil incarnate be so fortunate to have Heaven on Earth in his arms after all he'd done? Her touch, her scent, and her voice felt like home in this moment. Always one to talk too much and ruin the moment, he decided it was best in this moment to just hold her close and rub her back and shoulders gently. "Thank you for everything, Detective." He held her close and hoped to Dad that this would never end.

[darklilacs]

in true ridley scott fashion: fuck history fuck canon. geta forgives caracalla and they cross over to the other side together :)

It happened quickly. Much faster than he had anticipated. Thousands of times, he had seen gladiators take their last breath to entertain their emperors and the crowd. They spat blood, their panicked eyes darting around in a desperate attempt to free themselves from bodies that, in their final moments, became inescapable cages. 

Back then, he had found it somewhat amusing. Seeing how, when the end was near, people behaved like desperate. Deep down, Caracalla had always thanked the gods that he would never stand in the arena. His pain would not be a spectacle. Even now, just after death, though a whirlwind of emotions tossed him around like a ship with no destination, he felt relief that he had gone quietly. Without applause or laughter. Just like that. Like an echo.

Caracalla woke up on a beach. The rough, gray sand should have irritated his skin, and left red marks. But his hands remained unchanged. He would have gladly scraped them down to the bone because, he still saw Geta’s gaze behind his eye every time he closed his eyeslids. His brother wasn’t angry with him—that was perhaps the worst part. Geta looked at him with terror, with concern, silently pleading for his brother to come back to him.

Snap out of it, brother. Calm down. Wake up!

Caracalla wasn’t the boy Geta had known his whole life at that moment. 

Caracalla saw red. Lightning in his head thundered loudly, preventing him from forming a coherent thought. The worst thought emerged from the chaos in his gut like a well-nurtured plant: Kill before you are killed.

Caracalla saw red when he was angry.

He saw red in his brother’s hair as the servants carried away his body. His laurel wreath fell to the ground with a clatter. Geta never liked taking off his jewelry. He would have been so angry if he had known...

Caracalla saw red on his own hands when he woke from his trance after the murder. When the ship of his thoughts quietly sailed past the rocks, and the storm subsided. For a long time, he tried to wash the blood off himself. But it kept coming back, as if Caracalla had been condemned after the murder to live as a statue that will always be covered in rust. The color of dried blood on the floor.

Caracalla couldn’t see blood as he rubbed his hands in the sand.

He wanted blood.

Isn’t it funny that he had shouted that just a few days ago, looking down at the arena? Wishing for a spill so vast it would create a sea. And he always got it. Now, he wasn’t worth even a drop.

He buried his face in his hands, breathing heavily. In the afterlife, oxygen was unnecessary, but out of habit, his chest rose and fell unevenly. Sweet air did not grace him with its presence. Having lived in abundance, he was now left with death and grayness. With storms and lightning. No red at all.

The sound of a boat docking on the shore suddenly caught his attention. Was it possible that a lost soul had wandered into the abyss he had created himself? Pluto must have a sense of humor if a stray mortal had been sent to haunt him for eternity. To torment him until, finally, a single drop of blood fell onto the earth covered in gray sand.

Caracalla curled in on himself. Perhaps his new tormentor would be merciful.

"Brother."

Caracalla heard it right beside him.

His muscles tensed instantly. Of course. From now on, Geta's voice would haunt him, accompanied by the endless black sea before him. Instead of the beautiful song of sirens, his brother's concerned voice would lure him toward a happier place he would never find.

"Look at me."

Caracalla felt a hand on his shoulder. He was a fool, yet he raised his head.

Geta’s eyes looked at him with the same concern as that night. He wasn’t afraid for his own life but for Caracalla’s. He feared that he had lost his brother forever.

“I’ve been waiting for you. It’s time to go.”

Geta took his hands and led him closer to the boat. Onboard, a hooded figure was already waiting. Charun.

The myths did not reflect the calm that emanated from his presence. People fear death, the moment they are left alone. It is somewhat comforting that, during the final journey, someone accompanies us.

During Caracalla’s final journey, he will be accompanied by two people. Pluto’s envoy and Geta. Because before they were emperors, before they fell in love with power, they were brothers. Brothers who, during childhood games, made a promise. A promise not meant to be taken as seriously as a vow to the gods. Yet, somewhere in the hearts of both brothers, that promise must have been hidden, safe from the specter of hunger for violence and gold.

Always by your side. Wherever we are.

Caracalla dug in his heels, frightened of this last journey. Geta stopped mid-step, still holding his hands.

“I—I’m sorry,” Caracalla stammered uncertainly. As if he had just learned a new word, one that carried a magic he feared. A word he had avoided like fire—until now.

“I know,” Geta replied gently.

As if he truly understood, what Caracalla felt before he had even managed to voice his emotions aloud. That’s just how he was, wasn’t it? Geta was always right, always knew better. When they were children, Caracalla thought it was a gift. Now, it seemed more like a curse. Whatever he will say, Geta won’t be surprised by his remorse. He won’t notice the change growing within him, hesitant and fragile, like a bird too weak to break through its eggshell.

“Forgive me. I was wrong. I’m sorry.”

Caracalla fell to Geta’s feet. His brother knelt down in front of him, not letting go for a second. A comically tragic mirror of the pose they had taken that night. On their knees, torn by conflicting emotions. 

But this time, Caracalla didn’t see red. He saw a warm brown. The color of Geta’s eyes. The color that reminded him of home. Of reassurance.I’m here with you, and everything will be okay.

“I forgive you, brother.”

Caracalla exhaled unevenly, as if he had taken a breath of fresh air. He tasted the sweet fruit he had longed for.

Caracalla buried his face in the crook of his neck. He could have started crying. But not now. Not here. It was too soon. He couldn’t wait to see the blue again.

“Come on. We should go.”

The brothers left the beach. Together. Just as they had promised each other years ago. Caracalla could have sworn that before the boat pushed off from the shore, he heard Geta’s voice.

Always by your side. Wherever we are.

read on ao3 :) Did I disappoint you? Will they still let me over If I cross the line? - beautyofsilence - Gladiator (2000) [Archive of Our Own]

[strawberry-hachi]

Thinking about possessive Chigiri. Anyone would get scarily protective if they lost their dream. He lost his career and his passion over a simple injury. People avoided him because of how closed off he got and he refused to let others get near.

When you saw him again after his injury he didn't look at you once. Only giving you one word answers and nods. You understood how much it destroyed him but it was still hard to see the effects.

But then he started avoiding everybody. Holding himself up in his room and attempting to rot into the earth. Oftentimes his sister would end up calling you in tears because of his refusal to take care of himself.

So it's no wonder you began heading over to their house more to try and help him. It was still Chigiri. The boy that you had found yourself enamored with even before he got crazy good at football.

Albeit, it was not easy taking care of him with his mood swings and injury. Often you and him found yourselves frustrated with each other because of that lack of communication and progress. Regardless, you two worked through it because what was the point of a relationship if you couldn't help each other when you needed each other?

It was around the time he finally started healing, his stitches finally disappearing and finally going from a wheelchair to crutches did you begin seeing that change. How he would follow you everywhere if you were together, always close to you. How he would begin messaging and calling you if you disappeared on him or were talking with someone else (and while this did annoy you, you found it oddly adorable). He even began messaging you at all hours of the day even if he had nothing to say.

You weren't one to reject such affection and took it in stride but you'd be lying if you said it didn't worry you on his sudden switch up. Perhaps it's because he finally has energy to put into his relationship now but that thought only puts a pit in your stomach. Because what if he finds something else? You aren't willing to stay if you were only a replacement for something.

However what you learned right before he went off to Blue Lock was in fact the complete opposite. That only after he got injured did he realize how much he genuinely cared for you. Couldn't stop thinking about you. How he would sit with his phone in his hand wanting to call you even though he could barely move a muscle.

How more often than not he found himself dreaming of you. Wanting you. Waking up in a cold sweat upon realizing you weren't there. How as the days grew longer the more he realized that he needed you next to him always.

His injury most certainly messed him up but it also made him realize many things about himself that he wouldn't give up for the world.

---

"Where are you going?"

You glance back at him, "Groceries, remember? I'm still helping your mom and sister, idiot," You stick your tongue out at him, getting another blanket to put under his leg as he sits on the couch.

His once neutral face turns into a small frown as he sets his head down upon the couch. He sighs, briefly fluttering his eyes and you immediately can tell he's doing it on purpose. Prick.

"Do you need an ice pack?" You chuckle as he crosses his arms and blows a piece of hair out of his face.

He rolls his eyes, "I'm not a baby."

"you're kind of acting like one right now," You raise your eyebrows as he immediately turns to you.

He groans, "You've gotten so much bolder since you've had to take care of me."

You smile, "No, you just never noticed."

He opens his mouth to say something but quickly shuts it again. His brows furrow and his fists tighten.

"Sorry," you smile, "Anyways, do you want an ice pack?"

"No, I want you," He says lowly, almost coming out as a growl.

You blink, "I'm right here, aren't I?"

He extends his arms, "How much clearer do I have to get, idiot?"

You let out a little chortle as you set down the blanket, walking over to him as he quickly goes to knock you down over him.

You squeak as you fall atop of him, his arms going to wrap around you like a vice as his head goes into your neck and nuzzles.

"Are you trying to hurt your knee again," you say incredulously, "Don't knock me over like that," You laugh as you thread your fingers through his hair. It's softer than you last remember.

He hums into your neck as his hold tightens around you. You slowly relax into his hold as you realize he doesn't plan on releasing you anytime soon.

"You okay?" You ask quietly, your voice barely above a whisper as your breath brushes against his ear. You feel him shiver against you and it makes your heart swell.

"Yeah," he glances up at you with a heavy expression and your face flushes.

This idiot.

[kathlare]

through the storm

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: After a challenging race in Suzuka, Lando wrestles with doubts about his performance and an unsettling distance in his relationship with Amelie. Meanwhile, Amelie struggles with her growing feelings for him, haunted by the fear of vulnerability and past mistakes.

Wordcount: 3.4 k

Warnings: just fluff

April 6th, 2024 - Susuka, Japan

The roar of the Japanese crowd was deafening, even as the race had come to an end. The Suzuka circuit always brought out the passion of motorsport fans, and today was no exception. Lando stood on the pit wall, his helmet tucked under his arm, sweat clinging to his brow as he replayed the final laps in his head. From a promising P3 to finishing P5—it wasn’t a disaster, but it stung. He knew the car had more in it, knew he had more in him, but sometimes racing was just… unforgiving.

Still, the race wasn’t what occupied his mind. Not fully. Not even close.

Amelie.

She had been avoiding him for days, and it was driving him insane. At first, he thought it was just her schedule—she was filming, traveling, doing a million other things that made her life the whirlwind it always was. But this was different. Her texts had become shorter, her calls less frequent. And when they did speak, it felt… off. Like she was holding something back.

Lando let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his damp hair as he made his way toward the McLaren hospitality. Fans lined the paddock, shouting his name, waving flags, and holding out memorabilia for him to sign. He forced a smile, stopping briefly to greet a few before retreating into the relative quiet of the team’s lounge.

He grabbed a bottle of water, slumping into a chair as he scrolled through his phone. There was a text from Max, a meme from Keegan, and a sarcastic message from Oliver about his start. But nothing from her.

Nothing.

Lando frowned, his thumb hovering over her contact. He debated calling her, but something stopped him. If she didn’t want to talk to him, what was the point of pushing? Yet, the thought of her slipping away—again—made his chest tighten in a way that was all too familiar.

—Earth to Norris.—

Lando looked up to see Oscar Piastri grinning at him, a towel slung over his shoulder. —You alright, mate? You’ve got that look.—

—What look?— Lando asked, though he already knew the answer.

—The one where you’re thinking about her,— Oscar said, plopping down in the chair across from him. —You’re not as subtle as you think.—

Lando rolled his eyes, but the faint flush on his cheeks gave him away. —She’s just… busy.—

Oscar raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. —Busy, huh? Or avoiding you?—

Lando shot him a sharp look. —She’s not avoiding me.—

—Right,— Oscar said, dragging out the word. —Because the girl you’ve been quietly dating for months suddenly going radio silent is completely normal.—

Lando groaned, leaning back in his chair and covering his face with his hands. —I don’t know what I did wrong.—

—Maybe it’s not about you,— Daniel said, his tone surprisingly gentle. —Girls are complicated, mate. They get in their heads about stuff, overthink things. Maybe she’s just figuring something out.—

Lando let out a bitter laugh. —Or maybe she’s figuring out that she doesn’t want to be with me.—

Oscar gave him a look. —Now you’re the one overthinking. She’s crazy about you, everyone can see it. Just… give her time.—

Lando nodded, though the knot in his stomach didn’t ease. Time. That was the one thing he hated giving her—because he knew how easily time could pull them apart. It had happened before.

Halfway across the world, the rain tapped lightly against the window of her room, a soothing rhythm that did nothing to calm the storm inside her. Amelie sat cross-legged on the bed, her laptop open in front of her, though she hadn’t typed a single word in the past hour. Her mind was a mess, and no matter how hard she tried to focus on work, it always circled back to one thing.

One person.

Lando.

She closed her eyes, leaning her head against the cool glass of the window. She could still hear his laugh in her head, see the way his eyes lit up when he teased her, feel the warmth of his hand in hers. And it terrified her.

She was in love with him.

The realization had hit her like a freight train a few days ago, and ever since, she had been spiraling. Loving Lando wasn’t the problem—it was the fear that came with it. The fear of losing him. Of getting hurt. Of things falling apart like they had before.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, and she reached for it hesitantly. It was Elysia.

Elysia Dayman I’m here. Open the door.

Amelie blinked in surprise. She hadn’t told Elysia she was struggling—not directly, at least—but somehow, her sister always knew. She hurried to the door, pulling it open to find Elysia standing there, suitcase in hand and a knowing look on her face.

—You look like shit,— Elysia said bluntly, stepping inside.

—Nice to see you too,— Amelie replied, shutting the door behind her.

Elysia set her suitcase down and turned to face her. —Alright, spill. What’s going on?—

Amelie hesitated, her hands twisting nervously. —I… I don’t know.—

—Bullshit,— Elysia said, crossing her arms. —This is about Lando, isn’t it?—

Amelie’s silence was answer enough.

Elysia sighed, softening slightly as she sat down on the bed. —Amelie, you can’t keep running from this.—

—I’m not running,— Amelie argued weakly.

—You’re hiding,— Elysia countered, her voice firm but not unkind. —There’s a difference. But it doesn’t matter, because either way, you’re avoiding him. And for what?—

Amelie sat down beside her, her hands trembling slightly as she buried her face in them. —Because I’m scared, okay? I’m scared of messing this up. Of losing him again. Of… everything.—

Elysia reached over, pulling Amelie’s hands away from her face and forcing her to meet her eyes. —Listen to me. I know what happened before hurt you. I know how hard it was for you to let him back into your life after everything. But Amelie… you did let him back in. That says something. And so does the way he looks at you. He’s not going anywhere.—

Amelie felt her throat tighten, her vision blurring with unshed tears. —But what if it’s not enough? What if we end up ruining everything?—

Elysia’s expression softened further, and she reached out, taking Amelie’s hands in hers. —You can’t live your life waiting for things to go wrong. Love is messy, Amelie. It’s terrifying and complicated, and sometimes it doesn’t work out. But sometimes… it does. And when it does, it’s worth everything.—

Amelie stared at her sister, the weight of her words sinking in. She wanted to believe that, to believe that what she had with Lando was worth the risk. But the fear was still there, gnawing at the edges of her resolve.

—Do you love him?— Elysia asked gently.

Amelie’s breath hitched, and for a moment, she couldn’t speak. Then, finally, she whispered, —Yes. I do.—

Elysia smiled, her grip on Amelie’s hands tightening. —Then that’s all that matters. Stop overthinking it and just… tell him. He deserves to know how you feel. And so do you.—

Amelie nodded slowly, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew Elysia was right. She couldn’t keep avoiding this, couldn’t keep avoiding him. She had to face her feelings, no matter how scary it was.

Later that night, after Elysia had gone to bed, Amelie sat on the edge of the bed with her phone in her hands. The screen was bright in the dimly lit room, Lando’s contact photo staring back at her. Her thumb hovered over the call button, her nerves threatening to get the better of her.

But then she remembered Elysia’s words, the certainty in her sister’s voice, and she forced herself to press the button before she could change her mind.

The phone rang twice before Lando’s face appeared on the screen, his hair damp from a shower and a tired but familiar smile tugging at his lips. —Hey,— he said, his voice soft and warm in a way that made her chest ache.

—Hey,— she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence stretching between them like a fragile thread. Then Lando tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. —You okay?—

Amelie nodded, though the tears threatening to spill from her eyes betrayed her. —I’m sorry,— she said suddenly, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. —I’m sorry for avoiding you, for making you think I didn’t care. I just… I didn’t know how to handle everything I was feeling.—

Lando’s expression softened, and he leaned closer to the screen, his gaze searching hers. —Ames, you don’t have to apologize. I just… I didn’t know what was going on, and I was worried I’d done something wrong.—

—You didn’t,— she said quickly, her voice trembling. —You didn’t do anything wrong. This is all on me. I was scared, Lando. Scared of how much you mean to me. Scared of losing you. But I… I don’t want to keep running from this. From us.—

Lando’s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, he looked like he didn’t know what to say. Then he smiled, the kind of smile that made her heart skip a beat. —Baby… you have no idea how much I needed to hear that.—

Amelie let out a shaky breath, her lips curving into a small, tentative smile. —I’ve been a mess, Lando. Elysia had to fly all the way here to knock some sense into me.—

He chuckled, his voice warm and teasing. —Remind me to send Elysia a thank-you card. Or flowers. Actually, both.—

She laughed softly, the sound easing some of the tension that had been weighing on her chest for days. —I think she’d appreciate that.—

Lando shifted on his end of the call, propping his chin on his hand as his gaze softened. —So… does this mean you’re done avoiding me?—

Amelie nodded, her voice steady despite the way her heart raced. —Yeah. No more avoiding you. I promise.—

—Good,— he said, his tone light but sincere. —Because I don’t know how much longer I could’ve gone without hearing your voice. It’s been hell not talking to you.—

She bit her lip, her cheeks warming at his words. —I missed you too. More than I realized.—

They fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that came so easily between them. Then Lando’s eyes lit up, a mischievous glint dancing in them. —So, Coachella. You ready to blow everyone’s minds next weekend?—

Amelie groaned, flopping back against the pillows. —Don’t remind me. I’m terrified, Lando. Singing at Coachella is huge. What if I mess up?—

—You won’t,— he said firmly, his confidence in her unwavering. —You’re going to be incredible, like always. And besides, I’ll be there to cheer you on.—

Her brows lifted in surprise. —Wait, you’re coming?—

He grinned, his smile practically lighting up the screen. —Of course, I’m coming. Did you really think I’d miss your big moment? The guys are coming too, Charles, Alex, George. We’ve got it all planned. We’ll be your loudest fans.—

Amelie’s heart swelled at the thought of him being there, of having that kind of support. —You’re unbelievable, you know that?—

—In the best way, I hope,— he quipped, his grin turning playful.

—In the best way,— she agreed, her voice soft.

Lando’s expression grew more serious then, his gaze holding hers through the screen. —Ames… I know we’ve been keeping this quiet, and I’m okay with that. But just so you know, I’m proud of us. Of you. And no matter what anyone else thinks, I’m not going anywhere.—

Her throat tightened, and she blinked quickly to keep the tears at bay. —Thank you, Lando. For everything. For being patient with me. I don’t deserve you.—

—Hey,— he said, his tone gentle but firm. —Don’t say that. You deserve the world, Amelie. And I’m lucky to have you.—

She smiled, her heart feeling lighter than it had in days. —You’re kind of perfect, you know that?—

He laughed, the sound warm and familiar. —Not even close. But I’m glad you think so.—

They spent the next hour talking, their conversation drifting from Coachella plans to playful banter about which of their friends would embarrass themselves first at the festival. The weight that had been pressing on Amelie’s chest was gone, replaced by a warmth that only Lando could bring.

As the call came to an end, Lando tilted his head, his gaze soft and full of something that made her heart flutter. —Get some rest, okay? And don’t overthink next weekend. You’re going to be amazing.—

—Thanks, Lan,— she said, her voice filled with gratitude. —Goodnight.—

—Goodnight, Ames,— he replied, a small smile on his lips. —I’ll see you soon.—

As the screen went dark, Amelie leaned back against the pillows, a sense of peace washing over her. She still didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time in days, she felt ready to face it. Because with Lando by her side, she knew she could handle anything.

[typewritingyip]

The Arcturus Missions

Part Five - Rust and Rain

Part Four

———

Sending organics through a space bridge without the proper shielding wasn’t just dangerous or deadly, it was simply reckless. They could pop or worse and spread their bacteria across the universe in a single second, so why did it keep happening? Greed primarily. It was handled in time by some intergalactic agency somewhere, but those things took time and the organics weren’t getting anymore dead or alive in that moment. Reports like those were shuffled to the bottom of the stack with ease. Cybertronian technology should be watched over by the cybertronian’s, especially when the incidents are happening so deep into their space.

Besides, no one should be entering intergalactic space without the proper shielding for radiation, organic or not.

—

With the first few hours, hours? None of their watches were working anymore and they all had removed the internal digital clocks from their suits, a waste of energy and something that caused unneeded anxiety during a fight. Those first few hours were spent getting nowhere as exhaustion tried to take them down. Feet dragging and sliding along the solid but damp ground, unable to really get the typical footing that they’d have in dirt or sand, where their feet would just about sink in. The choice to return to the Odyssey had been made after around four hours, they hadn’t made much progress and the exhaustion was weighing them down literally. It hadn’t taken long at all really, Hound made up his mind when Sideswipe had to prevent Sunstreaker from falling over for the fifth time; they’d needed to rest and recharge before making the trek to the town or whatever was causing the artificial lights.

They were drained, they were sick, and just that morning when they’d been in space; they’d been fine so whatever brought them close to this planet had likely caused it. Sitting back against the Odyssey, Hound powered down his visor and closed his eyes; they’d been walking for hours even before they had gotten back together and now they were all almost too weak to move. His head was pounding painfully and even though there was nothing in his stomach for the moment if there was, it wouldn’t be sticking around. Everything on the ship had reset not long after they’d entered the atmosphere and now was giving them fits, or more specifically Breakdown as he had re-attached his suit to go inside and get some sleep not in his piloting chair. The twins had slumped down together and fallen right to sleep, so even though Hound was technically on watch he had his scanners going with proximity alarms set up to go off should anything other than the mechs around him show up, it would wake him.

Dreams or more so nightmares plagued them all, of Jazz and his mutilated corpse, of his destroyed mech filled with blood and the damned aliens laughing their horrific laugh through it all. It was gruesome and grotesque, but not abnormal. Part of becoming completely compatible with the suits was to hand over part of yourself to your government, company, or even just a hand full of scientists to prepare you to drift. It left its scars and one of those scars was the connection between you and your suit, sometimes between you and your suits network.

Hound woke with a start, jumping up as an alarm went off, alerting him to something approaching and fast, above them. Standing on shaky legs, his gun comes up as his visor comes back online, desperately trying to track the supersonic object above them. One second there, the next gone, “What the hell.” It certainly didn’t resemble any of the objects that had the capability to fly supersonic on Earth, looking around, there was a glow to the horizon that resembled a sunrise. Taking slow and deep breaths, Hound looks to the twins, who were still sound sleep and leaned against each other. Activating his comm, he connects to the shuttle first, “Breakdown, you up?” Pacing a bit, he walks a bit away from the Odyssey before walking back, no answer. Switching to the common channel of all mech suit users, Hound sighs before queuing his microphone, “This is Pilot 1124, Harold Jackson, callsign Hound. Anyone listening out there?” Hound’s hand shook slightly with nerves, waiting.

Sunstreaker was the next up, groaning slightly as he turned down the volume on the main channel, “Hound, not so loud, please.” Shoving Sideswipe off him less then gently, it took him a second to gain his footing, slipping slightly on the damp ground. “Damnit,” his mech stretches as he does, looking far too human for any non-pilots comfort, “I forgot where we were for a second.” Sunstreaker looks around slowly and sighs, rubbing his jaw carefully, “Feeling any better?” His gaze turns to Hound, who was still looking towards the glowing horizon, “Hey, Earth to Hound.” Walking over, his hand lands on the older mechs shoulder, “You listening to me?” “Huh, uh, yeah. Yeah, sorry.” Hound clears his throat a bit, shaking his head, “I’m feeling more alive if that’s what you mean.” Sunstreaker smiles a bit, patting his shoulder, “Yeah, me too.”

They both looked at the horizon as, whatever star they were orbiting on the planet began to rise in the distance, “Any word from home?” Sunstreaker kept his voice quiet, watching the sun rise, “None, but I haven’t check in the Odyssey, wanted to wait for Breakdown to be up before attaching.” Sunstreaker nodded, watching as the gently glow turned to a shine on the somewhat metallic surface of the planet. Though a great deal of it was orange and red, as if rusted, “Beautiful sunrise.” Hound hummed, staring at it for a while.

—

Breakdown was in fact the next one awake and quick to contact Hound, “You might want to get in here.” Words you never wanted to hear from anyone, especially in that tone.

Stumbling out of the tunnel into the Odyssey, Hound made his way over to Breakdown at the comms terminal, resting his hand on the mans shoulder, “I’ve got Sunstreaker keeping watch.” Breakdown grunted, “Watch, while we’re being watched maybe. There is so much overhead traffic, I can’t tell if it’s satellites or space debris.” He sighed and knocked his knuckles on the terminal, “That’s not why I called you in here though. These are.” It worried Hound, looking to the comms logs and staring at the screen there, their out going messages to Mission Control on Earth were not getting a shorter receiving range, but a longer one. Ticking over the seven years mark already and still counting up, wherever they were, it was far from Earth; “Fuck.” Nodding, Breakdown clears the screen briefly before pulling up received audio logs, “My thoughts too, then I found these.” The dates ranged, with the largest bunch being from five years ago. Sharing a glance, Hound pulled up the first one.

“1061 on the comm. In case there’s any way you can hear me… ah shit. You guys wont believe what happened…”

They stood there together, listening to the first log for over ten minutes. Looping it at least once, just listening to Jazz’s voice as he talked about finding other mech suits out here. Hound’s hand lightly covered his face, staring at the screen, he was alive, he was alive as recently as a year ago. He could be alive right now.

Then Hound’s blood began to boil, whoever Jazz had run into was probably what brought them here, for who knows what reason and sharing a look with Breakdown said enough. Whatever those people were, they certainly weren’t defending Earth and had hold of Jazz, whether he really realized it or not. “Load these into everyone’s suits and get supplies, we’re heading for the artificial lights, if it’s a civilization then we figure out where we are and where Jazz is. Then what direction we need to head to finish our mission.” Breakdown nodded, saluting briefly before pulling the main comms drive and heading for a different part of the Odyssey. Hound moved over to their make shift kitchen and got out water pouches along with food packets, they had enough for a significant amount of time but their mission just had a wrench thrown into it so who knows how long it would actually last.

Turning around, Hound moved to climb back into his suit as Sunstreaker and Sideswipe climbed from theirs, faces red with anger.

There would be hell to pay and it would be paid in spades thanks to four pissed off mecha pilots.

—

It was raining when they got back into their mechs, adjusting the setting to keep the cameras and scanners clear, preparing their weapons and adjusting comm frequencies to avoid the disturbances from the rain. Hound’s suit was the first to alert to the fact that the rain was not made entirely of water, a rather small amount of it actually, “It’s acidic.” Sideswipe was holding out a hand, sensors and scanners checking over the rain, “Oh that’s just great, acidic rain.” Sunstreaker puts his hands on his head and paces away for a second before untying his parachute from his mechs shoulders, “Think this will protect my paint job?” He sounded so hopeful, turning to look at Hound, who was using his chute to cover the Odyssey, “I doubt it, but it would be better suited to protect the Odyssey, since it will be sitting out here in the wet.” Sunsteaker clutched the chute, like a small child holding a blanket before groaning and moving over to help, “It’ll be fine Sunny, I’ll fix the paint later.” Sideswipe tried to sound reassuring, hiding his laughter, “Better your mech than your own body.”

Once the Odyssey was covered, they fell back into position DC-19, one on point, two just behind to the left and right, then one at the back. Hound was on point, gun up and splashing through the acid rain puddles. The surface of the strange planet was smooth, though as the rain continued to fall it felt more brittle with each step. It was rather obvious to them at this point that wherever they had ended up, it was not like Earth, not at all.

Out of all their suits, Breakdown’s was probably the best equipped to deal with the worsening conditions, the dense armored plating was less painted and more sealed than anything else so a great deal of the acid rain was slicking off. The others weren’t as lucky with their fancy upgrades and lighter armor, streaks of where paint was coming away went down the arms and shoulders, leaving marks of green, red, and yellow in the puddles. Their feet were experiencing the worst of it unfortunately, but tread replacements were stored back aboard the Odyssey, along with printers for temporary replacement parts. Hound kept throwing his head, to get the worst of the rain off his visor and visual feeds, the entire area turning into a hazy red mess as if caught in a dust storm instead of a rain storm.

“I can’t see a thing.” Sideswipe shifts his sword some and wipes at the cameras nearest his face, “How far have we traveled Hound?” Light conversation was good, important even, “Right around 43 miles,” Sideswipe hummed, “So we’ve been walking for around an hour or so?” Hound glanced up at the sky, but the sun was no longer visible with the dense clouds, “It’s more than likely, yes.” There was a pause, “Our systems are out of alignment, it took you hours to walk thirteen miles yesterday and now it’s fine?” It hung in the air for a moment, “The Odyssey’s trajectories are fried.” Breakdown’s voice almost wavered, “Hound, check to see how far you actually walked yesterday. Whatever sent us here might have messed with the cockpit systems.” So Hound checked, swearing once the actual number came up, “That bad?” “Worse.” They walked in silence for a minute, “We need to get our suits on the same page, we can worry about the Odyssey later, it’s not going anywhere any time soon regardless.” “But the systems in the main bay seemed to be working fine, the comms array,” Sunstreaker looked to Hound, “Is better shielded, better tech than the shuttles navigational systems for certain.” They all sighed, Sideswipe worried his lip, Sunstreaker rubbed his jaw, Breakdown looked up at the sky and Hound shook his head, “We need to stay on focus, finding answers.” A hum went through the comm line in acknowledgment.

It was still incredibly hazy, orange and red, but the rain was starting to finally let up. 93 miles of walking, almost two and a half hours, roughly, as a best estimate. When the first signs of the artificial lighting appeared. Sideswipe was the first to trip on it, a strip inlaid into the ground before a field of shifting solar panels. They were dusted in a red paste, that would be the best way to describe it. Hound frowned down at Sideswipe’s prone form, “You are in a several ton, multi-million dollar mecha suit. And you’ve fallen over.” Sunstreaker found it the funniest thing in the world, laughing almost painfully loud, bet over and nearly falling onto more of the solar panels. “It’s not funny! Help me up!”

Gun fire erupted from over head, “Take cover!” Hound was quick to grab hold of Sideswipe and pull him back towards the dense haze, raising his own gun while his targeting systems came online. Breakdown was directly behind him, his mounted canon going from a hum to a deep whine before firing through the haze, the advanced targeting system seeming to tag something through the fog, Sunstreaker was right on their tail, grabbing hold of Sideswipe, “Hound, I’ve got Sides, you help Breakdown.” Nodding, Hound was quick to join Breakdown at the line, his targeting system coming online.

There were several targets within his range, more gun fire came over their heads, he leveled off his gun and started firing.

———

A/N

Wow, the last few days have been actually insane with this story. Never in my life, or all my years of writing have I gotten responses like this. Whether in comments or tags, it’s been such a motivator for me.

Now, I plan to write my little section for Arcturus Two soon, I promise, but I’m so invested in Arcturus One at the moment.

I’ve also started posting these over on my archive, if anyone was curious or had their preference. I have it linked in the master post.

How many parts of this are there going to be? I have no idea, however many I can manage before my inspiration dies on me.

Tags! I love being able to tag those who seem to be enjoying the work, it’s the least I can do with you showing support.

@lunarlei68 @whirlywhirlygig @loop-hole-319 @pixillandjester @alek-the-witch @not-a-moose-in-disguise @goddessofwind8water @neurologicalglitch @dersereblogger

And of course thank you @keferon for inspiring us all in this crazy AU.

[hxzbinwrites]

Hii can I get a Lucifer & reader?? Just the sillies hanging out together after a stressful day :))

(Purely platonic btw)

Lucifer x Platonic! Reader | A New Friend

Warnings ⚠️: Mentions of depression, cussing

Sighing, Lucifer closed the door to his private studio. He was grateful Charlie gave him a space within the hotel, rather than being an outside observer once more, but keeping up with the hotel residents got exhausting.

Well, more of just Alastor's nonsense, not the rest of the hotel per se, but whatever.

The former angel let his wings relax as he plopped down in his chair, swiveling around to look at the contents on his desk. He had an hour before dinner to properly relax, but all he did was tense up when he saw how little work he had done on his ducks today.

Lucifer grumbled as he repositioned the duck he was currently working on under a propped up magnifying glass, before ever so slightly picking up his paint brush to make a tiny detail-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"You've got to be kidding me." Lucifer quietly mumbled, before rolling his eyes dramatically and getting up. His tired hand supporting his lower back before making the trek over to the door.

He was about to tell off whoever dared to interrupt the little free time he allots himself now that he's helping with the hotel, before pausing to see Charlie there.

"Oh hi Sweetie" Lucifer said, giving her a soft smile,"What do you need?"

"Ohhhh nothing!" Charlie lied, "just an itty bitty tiny little baby favor...!"

Lucifer sighed, oh boy did she inherit a LOT of his personality. "What is it Charlie? I'll help you."

"Ohhhh thank you thank you thank you!!"

Charlie pounced on her father, giving him a very tight embrace. Lucifer may have been tired, but he was never going to deny his sweet daughter of affection.

"Okay okay, what is it you need me to do?" Lucifer asked, smiling at his daughter.

"Well, we got a new guest! Just now, they walked in the door! I hate to ask you, but me and Vaggie are making dinner tonight since it's our turn, Alastor will corrupt the guest, Nifty will scare them, Husk doesn't care, and Angel is working tonight! Please Dad, can you ease them in tonight?"

"Oh a Sinner.....ugh, fine! You know how I feel about them, but I love you more than I hate them"

Charlie hugged her father tightly once more, before flittering down the hallway happily.

Once she was gone, Lucifer let out a large sigh. He glanced back at his duck station, before resealing all of the paint so it wouldn't dry, then somberly stepped away from it.

He begrudgingly stepped out of his chamber, and closed the door behind him. Lucifer made his way down to the foyer, where a Sinner was standing, very confused.

"Hello" They said, looking at Lucifer,"are you the owner of this hotel?"

"No" Lucifer replied, "My daughter is, but I am here to help you settle in tonight."

The Sinner relaxed at hearing that. "My name is (Y/n). I think I just died? I'm not really sure, I fell from the sky like 45 minuets ago. I was kinda wondering around when I saw a poster advertising a way to get into Heaven, so I booked it here."

Lucifer smiled at this, sure this was a Sinner who had their chance on Earth to follow the rules, but this one is not as bad as the other low life creatures this place had to offer. Best example, that Alabaster fellow. Alacaster? Alakazam? Never mind.

"Well, this is the right place (Y/n)! My daughter's mission is to help redeem Sinners, like yourself! My name is Lucifer and-"

(Y/n) stepped back a little, eyes widened. "Lucifer?! Like the Devil?! Are you gonna like kill me or something?"

"Oh Heavens no!" Lucifer rebutted, putting his hands up in defense,"I would never! Oh how propaganda spreads these days!"

(Y/n) relaxed once more,"Oh okay....sorry for assuming that!"

"No apologies needed, I understand you're a little confused from falling that's all! Besides, the King of Hell is here to make your stay more enjoyable. Come! Let me show you to your room!"

(Y/n) followed after Lucifer, leading down a hallway towards an empty room. Along the way, however, a certain radio host stopped them.

"My my! I smell an unclaimed soul over here!" A voice said, appearing from behind them, cloaked in a shadow.

"Leave us alone Alabama!" Lucifer said, making Alastor's smile tighten.

"Alabama?" (Y/n) asked,"Is that your name? It's kinda silly to be named after a state-"

"My name is Alastor, the Radio Demon! You might've heard of me from my Radio Show!"

"Nope! No one's ever heard of you pal!" Lucifer said, tugging (Y/n)'s hand, urging them to just ignore the tall, red demon before them.

"How unfortunate" Alastor said, noticing this new guest was being led to a new room,"Charlie just informed me not too long ago that all new guests will need to wait for a room! Nifty is going rather slow on preparing each room, trying to be meticulous! It looks like your friend will have to go!"

(Y/n) deflated, looking towards Lucifer for a rebuttal.

"Well, looks like my new friend will crash with me! Sorry TV Star or whatever you claim to be, the King of Hell takes priority over you. Goodbye now!"

Lucifer didn't wait for another snide comment from Alcatraz, instead he drug (Y/n) along back to his room. The travel there was silent, save for the sound of feet stepping on plush carpet.

Lucifer swung open his door, allowing (Y/n) to step inside, before closing and locking it. He let out a sigh, and visibly deflated.

"Ugh I hate that guy" Lucifer mumbled, not talking to anyone in particular.

"I don't like him either." (Y/n) replied, making Lucifer's head snap up. He didn't think they could hear him. "He was really snarky, and he spoke you to really aggressively."

"Tell me about it" Lucifer replied, plopping back down in his chair. Rather this time his direction was pointing towards his new guest rather than his forgotten ducks.

"Why do you let him speak to you like that? You're the King of Hell, doesn't that make you stronger than him?" They asked, locking eyes with Lucifer's, who's of which widened in shock.

They were right, he had royal authority over him. He couldn't kill him, Charlie would be very upset at that notion, but he could tell him off for being a jerk!

"You're right! Next time I'll put that red weirdo in his place!" Lucifer remarked, smirking as he made a closed fist and slammed in onto his open palm.

"Yeah!" (Y/n) encouraged

Lucifer and (Y/n) held eye contact for a moment before laughing together. Lucifer hadn't laughed this hard in a really long time. His depression made it difficult to go outside of his space to connect with others, so this was a welcome change.

Snapping him out of his trance, (Y/n) said," Are those rubber duckies?"

"Yes! Yes they are!" Lucifer said, swiveling around to open some of his desk drawers to reveal loads of ducks he took with him to the hotel.

"Woah, you make those?" (Y/n) asked, pointing to the unfinished duck Lucifer had attempted to resume before Charlie interrupted.

"Yes I do! Being immortal sucks! There's nothing to do, therefore I took up the most fun, amazing, and fantastic hobby ever! Ducks."

"That's cool!" They replied, walking over to the desk. Lucifer summoned an extra chair for them to sit in while he explained each duck's function, purpose, and overall design.

This lasted for far too short in Lucifer's opinion, as Charlie called his phone. Lucifer nearly dropped his phone, juggling the device between his hands before he finally got a steady grip on it.

"H-Hello?"

"Uhh Dad?" Charlie said, her voice laced with concern,"It's dinner time. You're ten minuets late now, and the new guest isn't here either. Did something happen-"

"Oh sorry dear, we're on our way!"

""We"? Dad I-"

"Okay byeeeee!"

Lucifer hung up on Charlie, before standing up a little too suddenly. He winced as he held his lower back, before regaining his composure. (Y/n) laughed at his old man struggles, before getting up as well. Lucifer rolled his eyes before leading the way to dinner.

Once they arrived at the dinner table, the whole bunch all greeted (Y/n) and welcomed them to the table as a part of the Harbin family.

Lucifer smiled, happy to see his new friend having a good time with their new peers. His smile quickly dropped with Alaska reintroduced himself to them, knowing damn well he had already tried to trick the two of them earlier.

"So" (Y/n) asked Charlie,"When will my room be ready? Alastor said that you said that y'all were remodeling guest rooms right now"

"What? No we're not! Your room is already ready for you! Unless you want it customized, then we can help with that, but your room is defiantly habitable! Alastor! Why would you say that!"

(Y/n) smirked as Charlie started berating Alastor, who of which could not care less about the Princess's complaints.

Lucifer's smile returned at seeing this, any berating of Aardvark was a welcome sight to him. Lucifer glanced over at (Y/n), who glanced back at him.

He had a feeling that they were going to become good friends.

————

Word Count: 1,575

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

The lighthearted feeling that’s sweetened the air over the past 24 hours vanishes with flashpoint speed. The atmosphere is left frozen and scorched all at once. Minato’s mouth is suddenly so dry that he tastes metal and his throat stings like he’s been breathing smoke.

It can’t be the Dark Hour. It’s supposed to be gone. 

Except it’s here, right now. There’s no alternative truth to grapple for. Kirijo-san’s assistants, unlike their boss, apparently don’t have any kind of potential– they’d transmogrified the instant midnight hit. Minato’s never seen the shift from human to coffin happen in real time, and it– 

He doesn’t know how to describe it. It wasn’t gory or torturous. It wasn’t even much of anything at all, but– he really doesn't want to see it ever again, all the same.

Junpei is the first one to shake himself out of their shared stunned paralysis.

They’d had doubts? Sure, the Dark Hour the previous night hadn’t vanished in a puff of smoke alongside the Hanged Man shadow, but Minato had felt the way the atmosphere had changed. He had assumed that it was like the heat leaving a body newly dead– just a matter of time for entropy to do its work.

Even if he’d had any misgivings, they’d been laid to rest when Pharos had visited him this morning, in the light of dawn, to say his tearful goodbyes. If the Dark Hour hadn’t ceased to exist, then why on earth would Pharos?

The silence is cracked open by a metallic boom that Minato can feel in his teeth.

There’s a low register throb in the air, the tell-tale sign of a noise that’s far away but enormously loud. It thunders into the still night again, and a third time, and by the fourth time it sounds Minato recognizes what he’s hearing–

Is there even a tower that could hold a bell huge enough to make this kind of sound in Iwatodai?

…Of course there is. But only during the Dark Hour.

Kirijo-san surges to his feet, stormy and furious. Minato has never seen him look anything but professional– his sudden anger is as jarring as it is intimidating.

Foreboding curdles in Minato’s gut. Did something…happen to them? The Chairman can’t summon a Persona, and if Aigis was still mid-repair when the Dark Hour hit, then who knows if she’d be in any fit state to fight if she needed to. Did they get caught up in whatever’s going on and–

Sanada’s voice breaks him free of his thoughts before they can spiral too far, and Mitsuru seems to snap out of a similar loop. She stands, spine regally straight and fists clenched at her sides.

Apparently Mitsuru’s come to the same conclusion as Minato, and judging from Sanada’s grim nod and Fuuka’s nervous one, they’ve arrived there as well.

The state of relaxation they’d all shared not even five minutes ago has vanished utterly, and no one shows even a trace of sluggishness as they all rise to their feet, ready to grab their battle gear and evokers. Aragaki stands up as well, looking determined.

It doesn’t sound like he’ll be taking no for an answer. He isn’t asking permission to start with, simply stating a fact.

Mitsuru closes her eyes and hisses a long sigh through her teeth.

Aragaki draws a long, deep breath– it’s almost comical how closely his concession of defeat echoes Mitsuru’s. Some of the tension drains from his posture as he lets it gust back out, his shoulders sagging.

Definitely a soft spot for Fuuka. Maybe it’s a cheap shot for Mitsuru to take, but Minato can’t exactly blame her for it.

[panhelleniios]

am I thinking too much about herc and his friendships and relationships tonight. maybe.

[galacticlamps]

actually ascension needs its own post since that's the one with the most details to speculate over and im starved for soho talk so i will talk to myself if need be

First the cover again, because I kinda can't get over it:

my only thing is that I had been hoping we might get Lizbeth on a cover again since she's never been on one of the boxsets before, despite being the 2nd person credited on all 4 of them (even if that's just alphabetical, still, she's the only one of the four main characters who never makes the cover)

But letting that go...

I know we already kinda knew the brief for this one but damn I didn't expect it to go quite this hard. Maybe that's just because the Parasite & Ashenden covers were (comparatively) similarish to each other and I was so pleased with Unbegotten's, and then got so used to it as the placeholder for Ascension while they kept postponing it, I wasn't expecting anything this colorful or detailed or with what I can't help but register as Fun New Outfits even though these are still like, pretty damn basic as far as costumes go. Still, it's a different vibe from everyone in suits and trenchcoats on every cover, technically. (Oh the woes of being an audio fan such that two characters owning sweaters actually does qualify as new information)

On top of just being visually delightful though, I know we knew religion was gonna be a fairly big part of this one, but I didn't actually expect to get quite this much of it - though I'm glad of it for a number of reasons. The BF twitter already made the ineffable joke so I don't have to, but also yeah I did very much spend all of season 2 episode 4 of good omens half convinced Samuel Barnett & Dervla Kirwan were about to pop up around any given corner (if you will go around being gay supernatural and horrible at your messy bureaucratic jobs in midcentury soho then I'm sorry, this is where my brain's gonna go) - so, fuel to that fire. But in terms of actual important things, at least one of my Soho wishes looks to be being granted because we have a Rev Edward Folgate on the cast list, which must mean we're finally meeting Norton's father, even if his mother & brother don't appear (which they could, technically, I've definitely seen BF not list all the doublings on their cast tabs before). Religion, domesticity, and the nuclear family are all things that absolutely fascinate me when it comes to Norton's character, so getting any amount of story involving his father & his church is something I've been actively hoping for for a long time now.

(I will say I'm a tiny bit bummed Saffron Coomber isn't on the cast list to play Mia again, but I kinda figured she wasn't going to be since Greg Austin's Armitage, who's making his first recurring appearance after originating in Unbegotten, was listed ever since the boxset was announced - presumably if she was also returning, that would've been handled in the same way. But since Unbegotten ended with Lizbeth and Mia going on a date, I still held out hope. Who knows though, maybe things did go well for them and Lizbeth just has a better work/life balance than Norton so she can date someone without them getting dragged into every scifi plot. I know that's not a very common accomplishment for any Torchwood agent, but a gal can hope)

At this point I know I'm completely in the realm of speculation & even wishful thinking, but I'm really really hoping we get some more clues as to Norton's overall timeline in this one, and I have a feeling that even if there's nothing as direct as dates given, the events of a plot like this one are going to heavily influence my personal interpretation of it.

To say that life & death are major themes for the soho crew feels wildly reductive, but even by Torchwood's standards and taking into account its origins as a piece of media with Jack Harkness & his newfound immortality at the heart of it, the living/dead status of this bunch has always been fantastically up in the air to me. Obviously Ghost Mission introduced Norton as kind of a ghost before revealing more obvious ghostly characters later on to which the title might have been referring, but his being from the past did beg the question of his survival into Torchwood's present era all the same, which Outbreak later alludes to much more directly, and his habit of showing up via hologram in multiple stories only further obfuscates any certainty we might have about where & when he definitely can be said to be alive and well. Then you've got Lizbeth and Gideon both being effectively 'brought back to life' via paradoxes that prevented them ever having died in the first place. Again, they are very very far from being the only Torcwhood characters this happens to (for a sprawling EU, it's really rather impressive how often & in how many different ways Torchwood as a whole manages to circle back to being about like. chaotic undead queers at the end of every day. though I suppose that consistency is part of why I keep falling in love with its different iterations again and again). That's without even getting into the question of Norton's dubious fate in God Among Us - and I say dubious because I know some people take that to be his ultimate death, but I personally think that reading something as vague as that as having any kind of finality rather goes against the spirit of this whole world/series, not just because I want him to live. (There are obviously other ways to make him survive/reappear, but I don't see this as a River Song scenario where we can safely assume one of his earlier-released adventures had to happen at the end of his personal timeline). But wherever God Among Us falls for him, he does very much meet God in it - or at least, a god, since the sentinel in Unbegotten is also described as a god of sorts, and even if he doesn't ultimately have the status of the god Jacqueline King is playing there, Unbegotten is still full to bursting with ghosts/undead/came back wrong/echo characters to continue underscoring that life/afterlife theme.

So all things considered, even allowing for the fact that we know Norton's twin hobbies are lying about himself and abusing time travel to suit his own ends/ever-shifting alliances, I find it difficult to believe we could get through a whole 6-part boxset about religion & death without something providing some kind of compelling evidence about where this adventure fits in among his other run-ins with apocalypses and gods and ghosts and dead-but-still-here characters/creatures, so I'm very much looking forward to any further exploration on that front.

And lastly, and least intellectually, I really want to know what the hell 20th-century Torchwood's obsession with Reginalds is. Reading through the cast list, I had to do two separate doubletakes over the character 'Sir Reginald Peebles' - firstly, because I had Reginald Rigsby on the brain, this being Soho (and the other Troughton brother being so active on BF's releases for this same month) - and secondly, because reading this in conjunction with the announcement for the July monthly adventure in which the new main Torchwood guy of the 20s is apparently called Sir Reginald Dellafield, there was a brief moment where I took that monthly release to be a tie-in with Ascension. I don't expect it to be, but damn. was it really so popular a name?

anyways, catch me thinking about those stained glass windows for the next couple months I guess (and knowing Torchwood Soho, for a long long time after it comes out as well lol)

[justatypicalwizard]

Bakugo who eats you out because he lost a bet, smut

It all started with a bet. It was this specific chaotic type of bet that you throw over your shoulder when agitated. The one that comes pistoling out of your lips as soon as it comes to your mind, or even earlier, a fog of war limits your common sense.

This was often the case with Katsuki Bakugo who was world widely known as the most annoying person on earth.

Okay, maybe he stood on this podium only in your world (others deemed Denki as the most insufferable) but it was enough to fire the never ending quarrels.

The two of you were similar in many senses, none of which would ever admit. Despite you being way less aggressive, you had your ways of getting under other peoples’ skin when displeased. You had this fighting spirit and competitive nature that could tune well with Katsuki’s. Unfortunately it most often sang off-key.

It was hard to tell what he thought about you. On one hand you’d say he definitely disliked you, to some point maybe? If he did dislike you he wouldn’t keep you around the small circle of his friends. Katsuki proved that he could push away anyone he wished to, no matter the circumstances. That’s what happened with Deku.

So Katsuki Bakugo disliked the fact that he liked you. Or he liked to dislike you. Either way you fought, ebbed and always surged back. Oh, and bets?

I bet you won’t even make it halfway before the time is up. He throws when he passes you down the hallway, spotting you bending your back over a book, minutes before the exam.

I bet your lovely friend will come looking for you soon. You snicker leaving him in the kitchen of the house party you’re both at. He’s currently hiding from a bimbo who really tries to ask him out and doesn’t take no for an answer.

I bet your mum dropped you when you were little.

I bet Miruko will kick your ass over this.

I bet they’ll send this essay back. It’s shit.

I bet it’ll die in this sunlight.

“Huh.” He knit his brows together, throwing you a nasty look. “Old hag didn’t say anything. It looks like it needs light.”

You were currently in his dorm room, analysing a small plant his mother left him. It was tiny, in a small ceramic pot, with three juicy green leaves poking out of the fresh soil.

“Well, I bet it’ll die if you put it in this sun.” You threw, shrugging your shoulders.

“Okay. If I win you’ll shut the fuck up for a single day around me. No words, not even a squeak.”

With the eye of your imagination you could see Katsuki pestering you for a whole day while you’d be unable to fire back. Yet, you had nothing to worry about. The little dude on the windowsill will bear three of four days before wittering. It’s the type that needs more shade.

“Fine. And if I win you can eat my ass.”

He chuckled, throwing a not happening over his shoulder before ushering you to work you both had to do.

A week later you were back in his room. It was a pleasant place to work in - clean, quiet, and always stocked with tea and coffee. Unlike you, Katsuki had the luxury of a single room which always soured your mood when he rubbed it in your face.

You were resting in his desk chair, legs crossed and organising a bunch of sources you were about to use later in your dissertation. It was the least pleasant part of writing essays. Finding academic sources in the library or browsing for them on the internet was not half bad. One could get in the swing of it after some time. And it made you feel like a real student all book heavy bags in a spacious bibliotheca.

Organising them later though? A pain in the ass.

“-by the way.” You caught only the ending of his sentence.

“Huh?” Turning around you spotten Katsuki looking at something in the far end of his room.

There was a closet there, one that didn’t quite reach the ceiling but was massive in shape. Atop of it sat the little dude in his sweet ceramic pot. Unfortunately all that was left of his three juicy leaves was one stem fighting for its life.

You clapped your hands in satisfaction, cracking a victorious laugh.

“Told you.” Fake wiping a tear from your cheek, you turned back to the desk and searched for the box you were about to tick off the long list. “Give it some more water and time. It will be fine.”

“So.” You felt him standing behind you. His shadow disrupted your writing.

“So?” Once again you turned around in his chair, cocking your brow in question.

“You won.” He crossed his arms, tapping his foot on the soft carpet in irritation.

You nodded your head with a grin but still ruffled. “Yes, and?”

“And you told me I can eat your ass.”

“Oh yeah, stuff your stupid mouth full.” You laughed but he yanked you by the arm, standing you up.

He dropped to his knees, pushing your bottom into the rim of his desk. With a shit eating grin he slipped his fingers into the sides of your trousers, grazing the bare skin of your hips underneath them.

“What the fuck dude?” You cursed, grabbing his forehead like the one of a misbehaved dog, trying to pacify him.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” The grin never left his face as he waited for your words, digging his nails into your skin.

It would be a lie to say that you never ever thought of him that way. Of course he was pretty, with his naturally fair hair that gave him a punk kind of look. With his body carved out like a marble statue. With a grin that made people both want to slap him and fawn over him.

Yes, it did cross your mind that he would be a pleasant view in the bed. Who with a sound mind wouldn’t think of that. Maybe people who weren’t attracted to-

No, it was a normal thought to have, one that may occur when you’re alone under the shower or in bed. You just often appreciate the beauty of your friends. Mina’s also cute and Kirishima is bulked as hell. It was a rational train of thoughts.

So why wasn’t your rational mind telling your hand to push him away just now? Why were you looking at his face, so close to your clothed cunt and feeling excitement bubble in your veins.

Tell me to stop and I will.

And you never did. So he pushed you to sit on the desk, pulling both your trousers and pants down at the same time. You kicked the air a few times to get rid of them but they hung from one of your ankles. It didn’t matter because his face was at its place. God bless you showered before coming here because you could have second thoughts otherwise.

“Okay, whatever the fuck you want, psycho.” You breathed as he lapped at your clit, still looking up at you.

His fingers creeped towards the inner side of your tight and you slapped him over the head.

“Uh, uh. I told you you could eat me out, not finger me. Yesterday you didn’t seem like the one to take shortcuts.” You spat, drinking up his frustration and slight… shame? Like a kid who did something wrong and got caught red handed.

“Fine.” He muttered pushing his tongue inside you. “It won’t take long anyway.” The grin was back on his face.

It indeed didn’t take long as soon, your legs were shutting tightly around his face. You weren’t even looking down anymore, the sight was a turn on but you were already overdriven. Your competitive nature was in a bliss and your head played fucking Katsuki Bakugo, on his fucking knees, between my fucking legs over and over like a broken record. You didn’t want to spoil your fun by thinking he may be having a  merrier time than you.

Not now, not when you’re so close and his palms are grabbing your tights, fingers digging into your muscles so much it would hurt if not the tension. Edging your release, you grabbed his hair in a tight fist pushing him in more, crossing your legs like it would take an “open, sesame!” to undo them.

At last, with a final short breath you came chuckling and moaning. A Katsuki may have slipped past your lips but only once.

He tore your legs open, panting like he just finished a marathon. Looking down you covered your lips to hide the laugh. His face was wet, smeared all over with what was a mixture of you both. His cheeks were heavy with blood, an intense red cutting out on his pale face. Classically, his brows were knit together.

“Did you have to make such a mess?” The blonde stood up and went to his bathroom. You caught a glimpse of the bulge in his pants.

The sound of the faucet reached your ears.

“I’m not gonna say sorry. You asked for it.” And you were pretty good at it. No. Such praise would kill your ego.

The water stopped running and you heard him stomp back. You pulled your trousers on quickly, suddenly feeling awfully naked. What would happen now? Your casual friend just ate your pussy like it was his last meal before a death sentence, and you were supposed to go back to organising the sources.

You felt a hard push to the back of your head.

“Stop thinking about it and get back out.”

Eh?!

Time went on quickly and in a weird manner. A huge something was in the air but you couldn’t find a way to bring the topic up. Why did you eat my pussy out of the blue? Was it really just about the bet? Were you feeling horny and I just so happened to be there? Are we fwb now? Do you like me?

Scratch the last one. The man gave you a headache ever since his own head left your tights. Also, he was nowhere to be found. Katsuki didn’t respond to texts, he was absent from the gym during his usual hours, and his dorm room was closed. You couldn’t just go to Kirishima and say: hey, I’m trying to figure out why Katsuki gave me head, wanna help?

The moment you run into his fleeting ass, you're gonna squeeze out the answer.

An opportunity came soon when you spotted him sneaking into the laundry room. It was a cramped space with washing machines and dryers. Fortunately, you had little thieves around dorms so people usually left their washing while it was in progress. There was a big chance you’d be alone.

Running to the door you yanked them open and rushed inside. Indeed, it was only him crouched to the lowest washing machine, putting mostly black clothes inside.

“You’re here for round two?” He smirked and you gasped.

It took you by surprise, you expected yelling or awkwardness. Nevermind. You shook off your initial stumble.

“Can you explain what the fuck do you mean by all this?” You gestured in the air as if all this was a laundry basket and an empty bottle of washing liquid scattered on the floor.

Katsuki hummed, shrugging his shoulders. He dropped the halfway loaded laundry on the floor and crawled closer to you, gripping your hips in a familiar manner. This time, you were wearing a skirt. Your back hit the door.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.” It fell from his lips as if he was asking whether you want vanilla or chocolate ice-cream.

Your mind ran in circles like a hamster in its ball. Start a fuss and possibly fight with Katsuki or let him do his thing and cum? Uhh.

He took your panties off completely, throwing them into his washing machine but left your skirt. Halfway in, when your chest was heaving and hips pushed further and further away from the door you heard a sound on the other side.

The doorknob shook and there was a mumble on the outside. You dug your feet into the ground and Katsuki put one of his hands to shut it closed. Yet, he didn’t stop what he was doing. Both of your palms also pushed into the thin wood making you unable to quiet the panting and loud gulps. You bit your lip and it would break if something wasn’t stuffed inside your mouth.

Taking a sharp breath through your nose, you smelled him. He stuffed your mouth with one of the shirts from his laundry. You threw him a dirty look from above to which he only smirked, going back down.

“It’s locked.” The muffled voice on the other side said.

“Maybe maintenance.” A different one answered.

When they were gone, you could finally cum, biting hard into Katsuki’s shirt. You steadied yourself on a drier afterwards while he wiped his mouth with a spare T-shirt before throwing all the leftover laundry inside the washing machine and starting it.

“My pants.” You breathed out, you were still coming back to earth.

“Ops.” He threw and with a single long stride, escaped the murder scene.

Your walk of shame in the short skirt, without panties on was long.

The third time you could talk to him happened only a day later.

You were studying with Kirishima, or more like tutoring him for free, in the library. Kirishima also had a single room in the dorms but his was far more trashy and you didn’t crave to spend time in that man cave. Instead you booked a private study room. It had a small round table, a few chairs and switches to plug in electric devices.

Halfway through your study Kirishima stated he needed to go to the bathroom. You nodded and the man left. Only after a minute did you hear the door open once more.

“A line in the mens’? Unbelievable.” You chuckled but upon looking up, you were met with a nasty grin.

“Kirishima told me you guys were studying.” He cornered you. “You know the deal.”

Katsuki slipped behind your chair as you whipped your head around to stop him. He placed both of his hands on your shoulders, surprisingly gentle.

“Just tell me to stop.”

Oh fuck you you pretty bastard. Is what you thought.

“Oh fuck you.” Is what you said and you wanted to add something but he pushed your upper half into the table simultaneously yanking the chair from under your butt.

It took a lick for your knees to get kinda soft and your morale to stumble between being a decent person or getting this unbelievably lucky chance for a third time.

“Can we at least do it after I finish with Kiri? I can come to your room as quickly as I am able to.” You whispered.

“Or you can call the dumbass and buy me a few minutes.” Katsuki muttered between your folds.

You cursed under your breath and grabbed your phone. Pick up, pick up, pick up, goddamn. Kirishima could be back any second. Although nothing terrible would happen if he came in on you, it would be embarrassing like hell. Finally, you heard his voice on the other side of the line.

“I’m just coming back, literally wait a second-”

“No!” You shouted into the device. “I mean.”

Katsuki seemed to slow down between your tights. Good, the bastard is not stupid and he cut you some slack this time.

“I’m sorry but I just really need a coffee, I thought you’d still be somewhere around the entrance.” You pieced together a makeshift excuse.

“I can go back. ‘Ts the least I can do for your help.” Kirishima laughed so genuinely it made you feel slightly bad for playing him like this.

“Yeah, uh, it really is boring like hell.” You laughed. The whole phone call made you unable to focus on Katsuki who was behind you and you really wanted to go back to minding him. “If I can be honest it would be lovely if you could bring me coffee from that cafe down and opposite of the library. You know which. I slept really bad and need their double espresso.” Kiri, please just say yes!

“Of course, anything for you.”

That sweetheart. Kirishima was really the perfect man, contrary to Katsuki who just now, at the very end of your call, decided to be an absolute asshole.

You felt two of his fingers push past your entrance and force your walls open. A breath got caught in your throat.

“Okay thanks, bye!” You smashed the end call button. “What the fuck are you do-”

But he was turning you around, lapping his tongue over your clit, moving his fingers in and out of your cunt all of which with closed eyes and a blissful look on his face. You gave in, because it felt so good.

After a while you finished all over his face, for the third time this week.

“I told you not to finger me.” You complained, dressing yourself in fear of Kirishima being too neat in his mission to get you coffee.

“I know and I didn’t like it. So I had to distract you.” He smirked, resting his hip on the table.

At that moment, Kirishima came inside with two paper cups, steam escaping the small opening in the lids.

“Oh, hi dude! I didn’t think you’d come here. I’d buy you coffee too.” Kirishima chirped.

“Forget about it, I was supposed to do something anyway. Just came in to say hi.” The blonde flicked his hand in the air. “Oh, and if you want-” He turned to you. “You can come to my room later and finish what we were talking about.” With that he slipped past the door leaving you with a grimace and Kirishima with a dumbfounded expression.

“What were you guys talking about?” The redhead asked.

“Nothing important, just about transplanting a small plant his mum gave him. I’ll help him later, he has already managed to nearly kill it.”

[chocum]

KARMA !

— brat taming the jjk men feat. choso kamo, kento nanami, toji fushiguro.

WARNINGS. femdom!reader, f!reader (she/her), brat taming, cock slaps, crying, handjob, choking, p in v, riding, overstim, lingerie, lollll slotted toji out :33, recording, finger sucking. ( 2k ) note. hellloooooo hope u all enjoy this. i had fun writing bc i loveee the idea of making big strong men crumble mhmhmhm. anywaysss reblogs are appreciated thank youuu love u all. repost bc last night it didn’t show in the tags 💔 but i edited it and added alottt so if you already saw it feel free to read again !! ty

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 CHOSO KAMO

“ma— make m— ooohh fuck. wai—wait” his voice trembled so cutely that it was barely coherent, crumbling into a pretty whine that drowns out his pathetic attempt (if you could even call it that) at being a defiant little brat, making you giggle, your slicked up thumbs pushing and rubbing down on the slit of his leaky tip, sending jolts of pain masked as pleasure up his bony spine, “make you?”

immediately he knows he’s fucked up. the air between you growing thick.

he didn’t know what came over him, really. maybe he had been watching too much porn, fantasizing too much, because the idea of getting tamed by you— god, just the thought of getting put in his place, turned him on so much. so, so much.

but having to actually disobey you, he couldn’t. he believes he was only put on this earth to serve you and please you. to be good. his head hurriedly shakes side to side, making each strand of ravened silky hair jump and dance before resting to frame his flushed face, “‘m sorry didn’t me—”

you land a heavy, hard slap to his cock, the sound pounding in his flushed ears blending with the beat of his heart, making his body tense up and jerk underneath you. his breaths come out in ragged little gasps, each one such a struggle as his fuzzy brain short circuits under your warm palms.

it really is cute, you think. cute how easy it is to break him. the pretty tears that drip down his puffed-up, blushed cheeks remind you of that. he’s choking on his sobs when you move to cup his face and kiss the corners of his eyes, and his cheeks. crying and sniffling because he hates when you’re mad. hates disappointing you.

“‘m sorry, i don’t— just wanna be so good for you. i’ll be— wanna be your good boy.”

“i know,” you coo, petting him like the pretty pet he is, “wanna try again for me, hm?”

and oh, he’s nodding so sweetly, cock throbbing for you, his big glassy eyes heart-shaped, staring up. so ready to be yours, ready to be the good boy you’ve trained him to be.

so you tell him again, “fuck my fists, make yourself cum, pretty boy. and look me in my eyes.”

his hips buck up, the salty tears on his cheeks warming and dried as he uses your sticky hands like a fleshlight, whining prettily when you tighten your grip around him, “‘m sorry” he babbles over and over, drooling out the corners of his parted puffy lips.

he’s so good. staring into the blown pupils of your pretty eyes without fault, like you told him to. because you told him to.

and his thighs burn, his legs shaking and trembling against the silky sheets as he gets closer and closer. the pain almost urging him on, “are you gonna cum for me? baby? gonna give it all to me hm?”

“yes, ple— please. please, can i cum can—”

you pull your hands off him.

drawing out the prettiest whine to ever be heard. like a song of the angels. his head falling back against the wooden headboard, hips bucking up in search of something to ease the ache that overwhelms in his tummy. those hot tears making a special reappearance.

“aww baby,” you hum, feigning sympathy, massaging his warm— full, heavy balls, “did you really think you’d get to cum after that, hm? did you?”

his eyes widen in desperation, disappointment. he tries to speak, to plead, to beg, but all that comes out are broken little sobs and whimpers.

the look on his face is almost pitiful. furrowed brows, pout, and his mouth hangs open.

you bend to lean in closer, your breath so warm against the shell of his sensitive ear, “you have to earn it, baby. good boys get rewarded. brats get punished.”

for you, he nods weakly, his voice barely a whisper as he chokes, “i’ll be so good, pro— promise. please, let me cum. let me show you how good i am”

so pretty. your fingers slip down to massage his aching balls, applying just enough pressure to keep him on that edge he loves to dangle over without giving him the sweet, sweet release he craves. “nuh uh, not yet,” you hum softly, your tone both firm but oh so gentle. “show me how much you want it.”

his hips buck up involuntarily, humping the air in search of your grip— relief, eyes locking onto yours, colored irises filled with adoration. he’s completely at your mercy, every nerve and ending in his body on fire, every muscle tensed up in anticipation.

and you can see the struggle in his eyes. it’s really a beautiful sight, and you savor every moment of it. “that’s it,” mumuring, “keep looking at me like that. show me how much you need it.”

his breaths come in short little, ragged gasps, his chest heaving and caving, thighs burning from fucking the air.

but finally, after what feels like an eternity, you decide to grant him some mercy, your hands moving back around his throbbing cock, stroking him just how he likes it, “cum for me, pretty boy,” you command, a soft, seductive purr. “give it all to me.”

with a strangled, gargled cry, he obeys. his body convulsing, every muscle tightening as he finally, finally finds his release, his cum spilling all over your hands in thick, hot, sticky spurts. and he’s so obedient, his eyes remaining locked on yours, even as his vision blurs and fuzes with pleasure.

“there you go,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “such a good boy.”

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 KENTO NANAMI

the tie that usually wrapped snug around the collar of nanami’s shirt adding that signature pop of yellow to his suits now decorates his flushed neck, constricting it, the tail of it clutched tightly in your fists as you ride his cock, your hips rolling and jerking against him relentlessly.

thick cum drips down to his balls, pooling underneath him, a swirl of your mess and his. he’s cum two–no, four? he doesn’t even know how many loads he’s stuffed into your warm cunt— or how many you’ve forced and sucked out of him, his cock so sensitive it fucking hurts, every time you snap back down on him sending poky jolts of overstimulation through his entire body.

“fu—fuck, honey, please. i don’t have— ngh— don’t have anything left to give. fuckin’ drained me already— can’t—”

you tug on the silky fabric, making him choke on his words, gargling on warm, foamy spit. his hands reaching to grab at the curve of your waist, but he’s flinching, remembering how you said, no touching. remembering why he’s in the position in the first place.

because he doesn’t listen.

refused to keep his hands to himself, your body begging to be touched, in his words. as if he didn’t take you seriously, just kept grabbing at you, digging his slim fingers into your plush skin.

so, obviously, there’s some sort of misunderstanding .. some sort of disconnect. he must have forgotten who was in charge.

you don’t even give him a response, ignoring the prickly burn in your thighs to fuck him dumb. maybe then, ironically, he’ll learn how to act. each jerk of your hips move to push him further to the edge, to remind him of his place.

his body is weak, just sitting pretty, twitchy, letting you do as you please, sweetly hiccuping under your frame, “hah— please, my fucking god i— i’m sorry” he’s all gone and sucked up, cock crying, drooling pathetic tears of salty cum in your cruel walls. sweat peppering his forehead, slicking the ridges of his chest, making him glisten.

“please, i’m fucking begging i’ll— hah, won’t disobey you again. i’ll— i’ll be good. i’ll be yours”

aw, there it is.

and you hum, stilling your hips, letting his cock fill you all the way up, “mhm that’s all i needed to hear. now give me onee more load. just one. know you can do it pretty boy, give it to me”

even though his body is spent, just the true definition of exhaustion, he responds, his pretty cock twitching inside you as he drags against his own warm cum in your spongy walls. and it doesn’t take long before he’s giving into you. balls so empty, just a few little spurts drooling out, but it feels just as intense, maybe even more than any of his other orgasms. “good boy”

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 TOJI FUSHIGURO

“toj’ my pretty boy” your finger draws across the pink lacy lingerie that does a pathetic job of covering his cock. poking out, leaking and drooling all over the fabric, almost ripping through it with just how hard he is, “you look so good like this”

he grunts, blush growing across his cheeks, a deep, deep crimson, turning his head to avoid your gaze, avoid your phone brightly flashing, recording him.

“so hard too, aw” mumuring, you move closer, recording every detail of how he bulges through the set you so perfectly picked out for him. the pink complementing his tanned skin so well, truly a work of art “touch yourself for me”

another grunt escapes his lips, and he’s fidgeting, dragging his balls against the bed, rutting like a fucking dog, pulling at the ropes that hold and confine him, caging him against himself, “need your ..”

“yeah, need what?” you prompt with a smile, watching through your screen how he struggles to say it, pouting as his brows furrow up.

“need your help”

theres a wicked little glint in your eyes, pulling back at the stretchy band of the pretty underwear, letting go so it snaps back against the sensitive underside of his thick cock, making him whine, his broad body shaking and twitching, muscles clenching up.

humming, you bring your palm to his face, telling him to lick, and he listens, immediately.

licking a long stripe up your warm palm, but oh, he gets carried away. stretching to wrap his scarred lips around your fingers, bobbing his head up and down, drool dripping down from around his pursed lips, letting his tongue lay flat. “look at you, so eager”

he comes off with a pop, smirking because he knows you love when he’s so good like this for you.

you press your slick fingers against his covered perky nipples, watching as he twitched, before moving to stoke him through the pretty lingerie, “don’t fu—fucking tease”

you ignore him, let him get away with the little back talk because he just looks toooo cute, eyes all big, looking up into the flash of the camera, leaking through the lingerie like such a pretty boy. all for you.

you flick your wrist faster, leaning to spit on his clothed cock, sending thousands of shivers up the nerves on his spine, making him croon, his ass raising up off the bed to buck into your palms, giving the camera such a good show.

“gonna cum, shit— i’m so close. fuck— please”

he’s babbling, his voice all high and whiney.

“mhm go ahead, baby”

with a final, desperate thrust, he’s shooting against the fabric, babbling your name as it oozes through making a sticky little mess before you’re leaning down to lap at his clad tip. to clean him up.

then you come off him, stopping the video. and tojis looking up at you through glassy eyes as you press against your phone, smiling.

“what— hah, what are you doing”

“sending it to shiu”

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 5:48

Bakugou’s in his third year of high school when he finally invites you over to his house. The reason? To finish a calculus project.

You’d think that after surviving through the hardships of being a hero-in-training together for three years, saving each other’s lives (more often you were the one being saved than doing the saving, really), and whatnot, he would’ve invited you sooner to his home (one could dream).

But this was Bakugou, after all.

And he knew that something was off the moment he left you to share a conversation with his mom while he went to get his books from his room—the greatest mistake he could have ever done because by the time he’s making his way back, Bakugou could hear you snickering to yourself.

Not a good sign.

“I’m not going to lie; you looked hideous when you were a baby,” you say, reading through Bakugou’s baby album.

Bakugou froze. He had absolutely no idea why his mother would cave in and give you the godforsaken album from when he was young, but of course she would’ve agreed with your request to see it if you did so much as mention it.

He dropped the books he’d grabbed from on top of his desk on top of the living room table before whipping his attention towards you, an indignant scoff escaping through his nose before he took a few slow, but heavy stomps over to you—practically snatching the album from your grasp when he’s within reach.

“Stop looking through those stupid pictures.”

“Hey! I wasn’t finished,” you reply with a frown. “You’re lucky my phone’s battery just died, or else I would’ve taken a billion photos.”

Bakugou’s jaw clenched slightly as he grumbled curses under his breath, trying to flip through the album in his hands to make sure you hadn’t managed to sneak a photo out—a small sigh of relief rolling off of his tongue to find that, luckily, it was still how his parents had done it.

He shot a glare over towards you, stuffing the album back into its original spot on one of the bookshelves, his nose crinkling as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Don’t care; tell anyone what you saw, and you’ll drop dead,” he tells you.

“Oh, but how could I not? That photo album’s like hitting the jackpot—so many super ultra rare photocards of you,” you gushed, blatantly disregarding his usual threat. “Come on, I wanna see the rest!”

“Absolutely not.” 

Bakugou knew the damn photos were in the back of the album. There were probably a handful of the ones where he was in the bathtub, butt-naked—a common photo in most photo albums he’s seen, at least. Other photos include when he was three years old and wore an All Might onesie for his birthday, pictures of him during his school recital where he was the prince, him with a bald haircut, and so much more blackmail material. 

It was humiliating, for goodness sake! And he knew you’d just tease him mercilessly if you saw it.

You’ll never let him live it down, so it’s best to deprive you of it.

“Don’t come at me for saying this, but I was the cutest baby in our village back then,” you told him proudly. “Had the roundest cheeks and brightest smile, trust.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, a huff of air forcing itself past his lips. That was one thing about you that he couldn’t stand; you were so full of yourself most of the time—you’d always been like that, and he absolutely loathed it. It could be that it reminds him of himself, so the competitive meter on his head just flares whenever he’s around you.

“I doubt you were even 1% of how adorable I was as a baby.”

“Have you seen me?” you gestured to your face with your hands to emphasize your facial features. 

“I’m still as cute even now. And no offense, Bakugou,” you giggled, “you looked like a wrinkly raisin on your first few days on this Earth.”

Bakugou’s smirk dropped. He’d almost forgotten that you had seen the stupid pictures already.

“Shut the hell up. It wasn’t that bad.” He muttered quietly, his hands balling into frustrated fists. His parents always assured him that he was a cute kid when he was small—but to hear that YOU of all people, are in disagreement with that is just aggravating.

“Fine, fine. Quits it is,” you hum. “Let’s do that calculus project so I can get home before sunset.”

Bakugou grumbled something inaudible under his breath, reluctantly nodding his head in agreement. There was no point in arguing about something so idiotic—after all, both of you were there to get a project done, not to sit around and bicker about his past.

He took a few steps over to the living room table before plopping down on the polished floor ungracefully, yanking out his notes before he gestured his hand over towards the free space next to him.

“Sit down. Let’s just get this thing done and over with already.”

Bakugou had already started working silently by the time you sat down; his hand was writing almost furiously as he copied equations onto his paper. He kept his attention focused on his notes, trying to stay quiet as he focused completely on completing the project.

He eventually stopped writing for a moment, turning his gaze over to glance at what you were doing before clicking his tongue at the sight. Bakugou could already see a few mistakes you’d made with your work.

“You’re doing it wrong,” he says.

“Wait, I’ve barely turned on the calculator, jeez.” You shook your head, solving the equation through your calculator.

“And that’s how I know you’re doing it wrong.” Bakugou huffed, shaking his own head in disappointment. 

“Formula first before adding 1.3.”

He pulled out a pen and began scribbling down on his own paper, glancing at yours every once in a while to compare the work. He knew from his experience that you were decent at math (he’d rather die than tell you that), but this was just pitiful even by your standards.

“Have you been dozing off during Ectoplasm’s class?”

“Ouch. Do you have a personal grudge against keeping the not-so-nice stuff from leaving your mouth?” you sigh. “You’re hurting my feelings— I’m devastated.”

He had a feeling you’d say something like that, and he was prepared to ignore your attempts at gaining sympathy from him.

“Unfortunately, you’ll fucking live,” Bakugou says, scribbling down the last of his work before turning it towards you. “And learn how to solve equations too, while you’re at it.”

“I know how to do it; calm down.” You huff, rewriting your solutions.

Bakugou raised a skeptical eyebrow, his head tilting with a hint of disbelief. Even if he knew you were capable of doing math, you had a bad habit of missing even the smallest details, like the operation to be used in your work, leading to the wrong answers.

His eyes scanned over the work you’d written on your paper before letting out a small huff. “Looks right. Are you done with your half?”

“Yep, yep. Are you going to write it down on our answer sheet, or should I do it?” you offered.

Bakugou glanced down at the answer sheet set to the side before picking it up and nodding. He was already holding a pen while you were still using a pencil, so it would make more sense for him to be the one to write it all down.

He began copying down the answers slowly and carefully, each number being written out with ease as his eyes flicked back and forth from the worksheet to the sheet of answers.

With him busy jotting down the answers, you occupied yourself with taking in the interior of his living room. It was beautiful, neat, and just screamed rich—not really what you expected (you really didn’t know what to expect, honestly). “Y’know,” you mention, glancing around. “You have a nice house.”

Bakugou hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes remaining focused on his task. It kind of took him by surprise to hear you say something out of the blue—about his house, no less. He’d fully expected you to talk about something else, like school or that new show you’ve been begging him to watch.

It went against what Bakugou had originally thought, which led him to look over at you from the corner of his eye, silently raising an eyebrow in a silent question.

“Yeah, I guess it’s a nice house,” he said casually, his pen continuing to move over the paper. His penmanship was neat, and Bakugou hears you in awe. 

Bakugou continued to finish writing down the last of the answers, his eyes narrowing slightly as he noticed you looking around his house. It was obvious what was happening, but he decided to ignore it in favor of just getting the godforsaken project done.

He finished soon enough, his pen rolling back with a click before he leaned back a little and let out a small huff. “We’re done. Finally.”

“Nice, nice.” Glancing at your watch, you concluded, “I should get home.”

Bakugou was silent, rolling his shoulders and neck before glancing out of the nearby window. The sun had already begun to set over the sky, the day quickly slipping away into the night.

“Yeah, whatever. You need me to walk you home or something?” He asks gruffly.

“Nah, I’m good. I need to say goodbye to your parents, too.”

Bakugou watched as you packed up all of your belongings, a scoff rolling off of his tongue. It felt almost weird to be civil with each other, neither of you having taken jabs or making snarky remarks to taunt one another. 

“Alright, fine,” he finally said, standing up from his seat and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Let’s go find my parents then.”

He led you down the hall and into the kitchen area, his ears vaguely picking up the sounds of his mother and father talking amongst themselves about… something. He couldn’t tell what exactly, and frankly, he barely even cared.

“Mom, Dad.” He spoke up, capturing the attention of his parents. 

Mitsuki looked over at him, a smile spreading across her face. Masaru looked in the same direction, a warm smile forming on his face as well.

“Thank you for having me, Mr. and Mrs. Bakugou,” you said in gratitude. “I’ll be going home now before it gets too late.”

His parents shared a hum in acknowledgment, with his mother being the one to speak up first. She had a knowing grin on her face as she clasped her hands together, her eyes flickering over to her son.

“You’re welcome. You should come over more often,” Mitsuki said enthusiastically, her voice taking on a slightly smug tone.

Masaru laughed as he nodded in agreement. He gave a knowing look to his wife before he looked back over at you. “You should join us for dinner; we already made enough for you to join us.”

“I’d love to, sir, but my folks are waiting for me at home,” you answered sheepishly.

Bakugou noticed the glance his parents exchanged and immediately knew what they were thinking. He almost grumbled in frustration, already knowing that they’d ask him about you later after you left.

His mother spoke up once again, her smug grin growing wider. “You’re always welcome here,” she repeated, her eyes flickering over to her son as her voice came out teasing. “After all, Katsuki’s always in a ‘better’ mood when you’re around.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it, ma'am. I’m a joy to be around, after all,” you lightly joked, though you still maintained a respectful tone.

His parents were easier to get along with than you thought.

Bakugou’s eye twitched in annoyance at your words, almost making him want to quip back at your cocky behavior. However, it was the sound of his mother’s sudden laughter that stopped him from doing so.

Mitsuki mother put her hand up to her mouth briefly, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she continued to chuckle. The expression on her face was elated, and it was pissing him off even more, knowing what’s to come. 

“I like this one,” she said, grinning from ear to ear.

Masaru added, “And clearly, so does Ka—“

“All right! They need to get going to catch the shitty train.”

By the time Bakugou accompanied you to the door, he had this obvious scowl on his face. “You’re never comin’ back here again, dipshit.”

“Wha— no fair! Why am I getting banned from the Bakugou residence when this is my first time here?” you replied.

“Shut up,” he grunts. “I could do whatever the hell I want because it’s my house, too.”

“Too bad I have your Mom’s number—“

“Delete that.”

“Hey— wai— no way!”

It was not the last time you were ever invited to the Bakugou residence.

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