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[ogygian]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Black Sails Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Captain Flint | James McGraw/John Silver Characters: Captain Flint | James McGraw, John Silver (Treasure Island) Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Prostitution, Sex Work, Face-Fucking, Light Dom/sub, Premature Ejaculation, Coming In Pants, Flirting, Mildly Dubious Consent, it's all consensual but there's an iffy moment, everyone's into it tho, taking liberties with silver's past, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, there's a teeny bit of plot, Dom John Silver (Treasure Island), Sub Captain Flint | James McGraw Summary:

In retrospect, there were a number of avenues Silver could have taken to secure a future, clever lad that he was. But at the time, he knew only that he was pretty and had a way with his mouth. So he took himself to a house of civil reception, and became a whore.

[Pre-canon. Silver works at a brothel, and James McGraw buys some of his time.]

[crimson-constellations]

atla modern au where suki & zuko are life guards for the summer and sokka just keeps drowning

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone^2 - Separation Strikes

"Why do I have to go?" Damian asks, surly and accent-thick, it sounds more like a demand and a whine at the same time. Sitting on the kitchen table with his arms crossed, in a green t-shirt that Danny bought him at a whim when he was at a thrift shop, and black shorts, he's never looked more like a kid. There's a little backpack leaning against the table leg, Damian begrudgingly picked it out when they went shopping.

His English has grown in leaps and bounds since Danny found him -- er, or more accurately; since Damian was spat out in front of him. -- and very little did they have to use the translator on Danny's phone these days.

Which meant one thing: Damian can start attending school comfortably now. And 'go' was the Amity Smiles Child Care Center. Danny and Jazz went as kids until they were twelve, and Mom and Dad actually managed to convince the center director to let Damian enroll for the summer.

And it was summer; Damian starts today.

"Because," Danny says, trying and failing to hide the smile pulling on his face, his heart warm and soft, and also laughing at Damian's expense; "being cooped up in the house all day isn't good for you, and you're starting school in the Fall. And, in Jazz's words: you need to have interactions with other kids your age for the benefit of your social development. And besides, it's only for the morning."

Damian's nose scrunches up, and his eyes roll so violently that for a moment, Danny thinks about joking that he'll get his eyes stuck like that. He holds his tongue; his little brother already looks like he's five seconds away from committing an act of violence.

"I don't need social interaction." Damian sneers, his cheek in his hand; a neverend pool of pride. "I am--"

"The Blood of the Demon Heir, better than everyone else." Danny cuts off, waving his hand in dismissive circles, his voice mockingly deep. Damian's brown skin darkens in embarrassment, and he scowls at Danny. "I know, bud. But Jazz is right, -- don't tell her I said that, -- you should be around kids your age."

Especially when he starts First Grade in the Fall. Honestly -- Danny was a little nervous to send him to the center. Damian's long since cut the habit of trying to kill or otherwise maim people, his palms ache-burn with gentle reminder, but his tongue was as sharp and as cutting as his sword. He still struggles with trying to quell it when he's upset. Vicious child-weapon that he once was, and will never be again.

Danny knows that it comes from a place of fear and defense, that Damian lashes out because that's what he's been taught. That at the end of the day, he doesn't really mean what he says, and he's learning to express himself better. But the other kids don't know that, and kids can be unforgiving and cruel.

Danny just...

His slow beating heart sighs, melancholy settles behind his lungs.

He doesn't want Damian to be outcasted. He doesn't want him to be alone.

Not like he was.

Damian sneers again, but says nothing, his shoulders crawling up to hide his ears like a turtle receding into his shell. Danny watches him silently, leaning against the kitchen counter with his own arms crossed. The clock hanging on the wall ticks in their ears -- it's almost time to go.

He watches Damian, careful, and so he sees it when his little brother's stone-shell pride and petulance shudders, and cracks. The darkened furrow of Damian's brows weakens, and for a moment, slants back.

Ah, Danny thinks, his own shoulders slumping. Epiphany washes over him, and his sad-heart soothes in warm understanding. So that's what it is.

His head tilts, and his hair spills over his shoulders, messy and fluffy, tickling his neck. Some of his bangs fall into his face. "Hal 'ant easabiatan ya habibi?" He asks, voice low and soft. Just as Damian's English has improved, so has Danny's Arabic. He still stumbles over himself some days, and Damian says his accent is trash, but they can have whole conversations now in Damian's mothertongue.

(Danny was incredibly proud of himself for it.)

Damian's face darkens, his blush spreading across the rest of his face, and he ducks his head down. Grown-out curls, black-brown and springy, falls over his eyes. "La!" He yells, loud and indignant, and not at all convincingly. "La 'asheur bialtawaturi!"

He was nervous. Danny can see it now, in the hunch of his shoulders and the tightness of his face, and faintly, he can feel it too. In the ecto-rich air of the Fentonworks House, it thrums, barely-there, like a hummingbird behind his lungs.

Danny can't stop the little, fond smile that forces itself across his lips and upticks the corner of his mouth. "It's okay to be nervous, little brother." He says, he sounds like Jazz when he says that. He doesn't think she'll mind him borrowing the nickname.

He pushes himself off the counter, and Damian refuses to look at him, hiding behind his hair and in his shoulders. It takes three long strides for him to reach the table, and Danny turns, plants his hands on the ledge, and hoists himself up. Right next to Damian.

Damian leans into him easily when Danny's arm wraps around his shoulders and tucks him close to his heart. He can feel his ear against his ribs. Danny hunches over him, resting his chin on Damian's head. "It's so okay to be nervous, actually. I was nervous, Jazz was nervous." He tells him, scratching the blunt edge of his nails across his scalp. "Everyone gets nervous."

"'Ana last aljumiea." Damian mumbles, as small and feeble as he was the night on the OPS Center balcony, realizing that his mom and the League weren't coming for him. Realizing that he was replaceable.

Danny's half-working heart squeezes; in grief, in rage, and his faucet eyes sting. He breathes in carefully, and presses his nose into Damian's hair in a loving faux-kiss. "You're right, you're not everyone." He says, steady and strong, because if he's not a pillar for his family, who else is he?

He can feel Damian's eyes flick up to him, and Danny smiles into his black-brown curls. Tilts his head to squish his cheek against him instead, hand dropping to thumb below Damian's lashes. "You're Damian Fenton," Because the adoption went through a few weeks ago, and he's still riding that high, "You're my baby brother. O' Artist Extraordinaire, Kickass with a Sword, Vegetarian and Wonderful Co-Ghost Hunter."

Damian tries to stifle a smile, and fails. Score! Triumph gathers in Danny's gut, his smile grows wider. He squeezes Damian tight, and only releases him so he can look him in the eyes. "And if anyone gives you a hard time at school, and I mean anyone--"

Danny has bad memories of the teachers looking the other way when the other kids were bullying him, all because he was a Fenton.

And Danny, bleeding heart, bleeding hands, loves his family more than he will ever love himself, will never let Damian experience the same injustice. Not if he can help it.

His eyes narrow, and the buzzy-film of ectoplasm covers his eyes, making them glow, "--You tell me. And as your awesome great big brother-and-technically-dad-but-only-biologically, I will handle it."

Damian, wonderfully made, full of light, his little brother Damian, giggles weakly at him. A sound that's worth it's weight in gold. The scary eyes dissipate, and Danny matches the sound with a cock-eyed, impish grin, dragging Damian into a soul-crushing, too-tight hug. The kind that only annoying older brothers can give. "Got it?"

That gets a proper, if short, laugh out of Damian. He wriggles in Danny's arms, trying to break free. But Danny does calisthenics, his arms are as big as Damian's head, so it doesn't work. "Understood, now, daeni 'adhhab ya 'akhi!"

Danny laughs, loud and bright, and loosens his hold just a smidge, only so he can adjust his grip and hop off the table with Damian still in arm.

"Never!" He crows, hoisting Damian slightly. One eye flick at the clock, and in one quick move, he secures Damian under one arm like a football, and hooks his foot under the strap of his backpack. Kicking it up, he tosses it into the air and catches it with his free hand, and slings it over his shoulder. "Now, to the car, my boy! Before we're late and Mom and Dad get charged."

Damian groans, childish and dramatic and long, but his face is all squished up with a wide grin and glee. Danny can taste his joy beneath his tongue.

"And, if my little pep talk didn't encourage you," He says, reaching the door to the garage, flipping Damian up onto his hip instead. "If you have a good day today, I'll make you bal mithai when you get back."

Like all kids at the promise of sweets, Damian's eyes widen and glitter. Danny loves seeing Damian be a kid, it's his favorite thing in the world. "I will!"

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

♡ chronicle #3 : going home ♡

fem reader pronouns mentioned in this one !

wc : 7210

bakugou has been acting different after your conversation at work.

it's not like he's gotten any less annoying, far from it. but he's been a bit more...bearable lately.

sure, he still steals your food and nips at you when you pull it away from him. but he's started 'begrudingly" sharing his portion with you, to keep it fair. whether it be an energy bar from your pantry or the dinner he insisted he'd make for himself but ended up conveniently making enough for the two of you.

he's also way more touchy, almost on the brink of clingy. he follows you around your apartment whenever you leave the living room like an angry puppy with rabies, but then denies he is. "you were just headed the same way i was." was his favorite excuse.

you had caught on quickly when he simply stood by the door and watched you fold laundry, then growling about how you took to long before taking half of your clothes and neatly folding them like his life depended on it. perhaps he was simply a clinger. you don't mind much, you get your laundry done faster with him here.

he's started sitting closer to you on the couch. slowly, subtly at first, but now he doesn't feel the need to be subtle anymore it seems. he can't be when you're practically sitting shoulder to shoulder. you don't mind much, he's warm.

you've slowly started petting his head more and more often. you don't really remember why you did before, but he didn't seem to mind it the first time, so you figured you were in the clear to do it again. he jumped after you'd first done it again while you were watching the notebook, but he didn't say anything. you didn't either so as not to get your head chewed off. you saw in the corner of your eye how he leaned his head a little more towards you, and how he turned red from the tips of his ears all the way down to his neck.

since you'd come to find out he liked getting praised, you'd start implementing the act of affection here and there and now he expects you to do it every time. it was hard to understand what he wanted at first since apparently him being a powerful and mighty dragon made him unable to use his words correctly. he'd just stare at you, fiery red eyes locked onto your face and a small barely there pout forming on his face. you'd learned to do it every time since then, otherwise he'd get cranky. you don't mind much, his hair feels really nice.

he still hasn't called you by your fucking name though, but you're desensitized by now.

it's been about an hour since you'd gotten back from work. you're watching a movie you chose, which ended up being lady and the tramp. bakugou complained at first before quickly getting absorbed into the movie. you find it frankly hilarious that the big, serious and scary dragon man enjoys watching disney movies but you digress, it was a good movie.

you can hear the microwave's low hum and you're already salivating at the smell from the leftover dinner bakugou had made yesterday. you're a little, just a smidge jealous of his cooking skills, sure. but you will not miss the opportunity to eat his food up, you've learned to suck up your pride and live with his stupidly handsome cocky smirk as you practically devour his food.

you've gotten to the famous spaghetthi scene and you're curious to see how the dragon man reacts to it. you feel smugness pooling in your chest when you see him trying to hold back a cheesy smile. you really can't blame him, there's a smile forming on your face unconsciously, this scene is really fucking cute.

"i love this scene, it's so cute" you sigh dreamingly "if only human relationships were that easy" you lament, resting your head in the palm of your hand.

bakugou, who's sitting right next to you on the couch, scoffs to himself "you humans and your stupid mating rituals. i don't know why you make things so difficult for yourselves."

"you can't just assume all humans are like what you see in drama's. most humans aren't like that" you deadpan. he pokes at your ribs and chuckles when you jolt and glare at him, just as annoying alright.

"of course i know that, shitty human" he says, shuffling around on the couch to get more comfortable, his arm brushes against yours when he throws it back around the couch for a moment and you hate how easily it makes you shiver. " but those drama's are somewhat cemented in reality, aren't they ? so it's stupid."

you roll your eyes, but you can't really disagree. humans did seem to make things complicated for themselves.

but suddenly, you're curious.

"well, how do dragons.." you fumble around with your hands looking for the right word "..date, then ?" you ask. bakugou rolls his eyes at you "we don't date." he copies in a pitchy voice, you tug at his horn and he growls, snapping at you.

"what do you do then ?" you groan as you dodge him, he knocks his head against yours and headbutts you. he's such a sore loser.

"we mate." he huffs "mate ?" you ask curiously and he nods, looking towards the tv, grunting in acknowledgement. "s'like—what you humans call marriage" he mumbles, his voice and eye contact trailing off.

"oh, okay.." you hum, nodding "so, how do you break up ?"

"we don't. there's no need."

you tilt your head at him, silently asking for more info. he sighs like he's irritated but really it's because you're staring up at him so curiously. you're eyes are big and bright and so annoyingly pretty. and your scent's way too fucking strong, it makes him want to hold you and keep you close to him, away from dragons and humans and everything else.

" everyone has a soulmate." he starts, absentmindedly prodding at the material of your couch "wether you find them at birth or at the end of your lifespan, you have one."

"you're soulmates the one that was made for you. there's an old legend you and your soulmate are stars seperated by the gods and you're looking for each other reflexively—or something" he adds, seemingly uninterested, but he can feel his skin heating up after every word "they understand you on a level no one else can, and whenever you're with them.." he cuts himself off and suddenly looks down at you. you blink up at him, surprised, but you don't move an inch. it feels like you've gotten closer somehow. something in the air has changed.

"it" he gulps "it feels right."

katsuki has understood why he feels the way he does around you for a while now. he thinks he's always had somewhat of a hunch when he'd first blasted into your apartment and hadn't killed you the moment you'd raised your voice at him. but he knew for sure when you'd had your..moment at your office.

katsuki's convinced himself he doesn't have time for soulmates, he doesn't need one. no matter how hard his old hag had tried to force encourage him to find his. he simply couldn't find it in himself to care.

and yet, now that he's met you, it's so, so different. he wants you. he wants you more then he's ever wanted anything before. he needs you more than all the gold and every treasure he could lay his eyes on. he can't hand you over to anyone else now that he's met you and he wants to be bothered, especially because you're human. something he's been taught to look down on ever since he was a cub. and yet here he is, clinging to you like a puppy. cooking for you, helping you with your stupid human chores and groceries and he listens to you when you ask him something, although begrudgingly.

and katsuki wants to hate it, he wants to hate the way you make him feel, wants to hate how mushy and soft you make him, he wants to hate you. but he can't. can't hate the way you make him feel and he can't hate you because when he's with you he feels so good. he wants more, more of this feeling, more of you.

dragons are greedy creatures after all.

you're lips suddenly feel very dry as he looks at you and you look at him. his piercing gaze makes you forget you were supposed to respond to what he said.

"o-oh, that's really..romantic" you breathe out. he huffs and he's so much closer now because you feel the air hit your face when he does "s'corny if you ask me" he says evenly, gaze focused on you.

"i did ask you" you quip, but there's no smirk on your face when you do, your heart starts beating a little faster "you seem to know a lot for someone who thinks it's corny" you try to lighten to mood, booping his nose and you watch his face scrunch up, huffing out a laugh when he bops his forehead to yours somewhat harshly again, but not enough to hurt.

" my folks told me about it. and it's a common tale back where i'm from, everyone knows about it."

and that clears your head a little bit. his parents. the place where he comes from.

you'd been too scared to ask him anything after things turned awkward a few weeks ago. it wasn't that bad, but bad enough to scare you off from asking again. you suck in a breath, sucking up your confidence with it.

"where—" you start "where are you from anyway, bakugou?" your voice is soft, meek as you ask. it's so low you could barely hear yourself but you did, and so did he. his eyes narrow the slightest bit and you have to steel your nerves to stop from flinching. he leans his head away, just slightly, like he can't force himself to go any further "why'd you wanna know ?" he asks, and unreadable expression on his face.

you shrug "i wanna know more about you." you reply. he squints at you somewhere, then closes his eyes and sighs.

"my people are from a place called yuuei. it's a great kingdom" he huffs, clearly proud.

you nod "then..why'd you leave ?" you probably should've been more careful with your wording, but you found you don't find bakugou as menacing as you used to when he first arrived. you don't know if that's a good thing or not.

his eyebrows furrow as he looks down at the couch, you don't want to upset him and you're about to tell me he doesn't have to divulge any personal information when he speaks again.

"i'm...pretty important over there.” he mumbled "it's—it doesn't matter anymore. i'll probably be replaced."

"what ? what does that mean ?" all he does is furrow his eyebrows more, clenching his fists. as if it were a reflex, you reach up and run your fingers through his soft blonde hair. his closes his eyes the moment your hand makes contact with his head, you hear a happy little chuff come from him as you scratch a specific spot he rlly likes right below his nape.

"in my kingdom, you have to do this sort of..duel, it's for power an' stuff.." he replies after a bit , his eyes still closed but the pinch in his brows returns the more he speaks "i was supposed to win. i was gonna win, but i—" a heavy scowl is present on his face and you could tell it was something hard to talk about for him. you're so focused you don't notice your movements have slowed down, but bakugou has. he nudges his head against your hand and grunts. you offer him a little mumbled out "sorry" and continue to abide to his wordless demand. it's endearing as much as it's bratty, but you don't mind much.

"that fuckin' bastard played dirty..and i lost. th't's how i got here" he groused. your eyes widen in shock, completely stopping your movements in his hair despite the groans of complaint you hear from him. "how far away is yuuei ?!"

"far" he chuckles humorlessly "very far. but i've sparred with him before, he couldn't have gotten so strong so fast. must've gotten somethin' from a witch or whatever.”

"you got blasted all the way here ?!" you squeaked, cringing at the pain he must've felt. with the state he'd appeared at..your wall, it was honestly amazing he had healed so much that fast. dragons really are something else, you thought.

he scoffs, shoving his head against your hand as if to punish you for rubbing salt in his still very open wound. "s'not that big of a deal" he stops himself for a second "i'm gettin' better aren't i, doc ?" he jests. you roll your eyes, a small smile appearing onto your face. he had been healing pretty well from what you'd seen.

"i can give you that" you sigh. bakugou gives you a once over than raises and eyebrow "well, did i satisfy your curiosity, human ?" he goads sarcastically, you fight the urge to roll your eyes again because you feel they'll get stuck to the back of your head with how hard you'd be rolling them. instead you offer him a tiny giggle, you miss how his tail raises upwards the slightest bit.

you hum pensively, and he rolls his eyes at you this time, you laugh. "yeah, i think i'm satisfied for now" you smirk, returning to your activities of messing around with his wheat colored strands of hair, making it messier and spikier than it already was.

"for now ?" he asks amusedly. but there's a subtle hint of genuine vulnerablity in his eyes that you can somehow see so clearly, you're still a little shocked about how easy this literal other wordly, mythical being was to read. or maybe bakugou was just very obvious. or maybe it's because you feel like you've known him you're entire life when you look him in the eyes for too long.

"mhm" you hum, smiling softly at him, your hand trails lower to the hairs at the nape of his neck, you get goosebumps when you hear his low growl in response to your touch "for now" you whisper. a beat passes.

suddenly, you're pressed down on the couch and bakugou's on top of you.

it happened before you could even process it. before you could even blink he was staring down at you, hands on either sides of your head and so close that you could feel his breath every time he inhaled and exhaled. there's a low rumble sound that's coming from him, you don't know from where. you can barely hear anything over the sound of your heart beating fast against your ribs.

he's simply staring, and staring and a beat passes. then he huffs, pouting to himself.

"you piss me the hell off, you know." he mutters

"wh-wha?! bakugou—" you're not even sure you could've said anything more coherent than this if you tried. your brain's scrambled, your cheeks feel hot and you cannot hear anything but him and your beating heart.

he cuts you off "katsuki." he growls. "it's katsuki. say it." he demands, sounding almost desperate.

"..katsuki" you mumble shyly, testing how the new name he'd given you sounds. it's pretty, you like saying it, you decide. he inhales harshly when he registers his name falling from your pretty lips.

"you—" he speaks " you have no fuckin' idea what you do to me, do you." he asks but he doesn't give you a chance to answer as he continues "'f course ya don't." he smirks, leaning in more so he could bump his nose against yours. your lips part to swipe your tongue over them and you feel your fingers twitch when his eyes flit over to look at the movement for way longer than necesarry before he keeps speaking.

"you, you're probably...nah, definitely the most infuriating human i've ever met." you huff, forgetting the position you're in for a moment before pouting up at him " you're not the most amicable dragon i've met either." you huff petulantly. he chuckles, adjusting a little to lean back just barely and give you that infuriating smirk. "no trust me, i am. any other dragon wouldn't have let ya mouth off like that at them for more than a second"

"so what, i should be thanking you or something ?" you snarked hotly, you go to cross your arms reflexively, but he stops you halfway. holding your arms above your head with one hand. he leans in again and you gasp slightly. his hold on you tightens ever so slightly when you do.

"yeah, you should be actually. coulda blown yer fuckin' head off if i wanted to" he snickers "but that's the thing." he says somewhat seriously "i didn't"

"thanks." you deadpan. he tuts at you, rolling his eyes again "shut up, i wasn't finished. when you mouthed off to me when i first arrived here. you had every fuckin' right to." he admits begrudgingly, looking away from you. your eyes widen in surprise but you stay silent

bakugou sighs above you " as much as i hate to admit it, you saved my life...or whatever. and the first thing i did was threaten you. i haven't met that many humans, but most of 'em were weaklings. wether they talked a big game or not, they should be prepared for what happens when you mess with me and what's mine."

"but you weren't after my treasure, or my scales, or my life. you were after payment for your fuckin' wall" he chortles " i thought that was what caught me off guard about you, so i figured i could at least fix your wall up."

he stops and his smirks melt away when he makes eye contact with you again. "but then ya offered me to stay. and i said yes. and i didn't fuckin' know why i did, but it just felt right to." he admits "i went along with your stupid human reasons that i could honestly give less of a shit about, without even fucking knowing why." he spills, inhaling as he finishes "but now," he swallows, leaning down so his lips make contact with your neck, you gasp in surprise "now i do." he rumbles lowly.

you can barely speak, can barely think straight and yet it's like your body's taking full control "wh-why?" you hear yourself ask. he looks up at you from where he's hidden in your neck and leans up until your lips are a breath away from each other. it startles you, but you don't move.

he looks at your lips then back up at you. red eyes peering at you, asking for permission. you exhale and feel yourself nod just the slightest bit, but just enough for him to get your approval. you want this, you need this. you feel like you'll lose it if you he doesn't—

the sound of the timer makes you both jump.

"oh—shit !" you squeak, surprised at the sudden noise, you look at the tv, and back at him. his face is fully red and he refuses to look at you anymore. it makes your chest hurts a little bit. just as fast as he'd pushed you down onto the couch he's already off you, quickly mumbling "i'll go check it." before dissapearing into the kitchen, you can just barely catch the sound of his retreating footsteps over the sound of your beating heart.

what. just. happened ?

you don't know how you fell asleep last night but you did somehow, because the next morning you're off from work, it's ten am, and katsuki is gone. he'd left a note in suprisingly neat handwriting saying he had gone out to get groceries for dinner tonight. it was your turn to make dinner today, but you appreciate it nonetheless, despite your heavy, heavy heart.

you hear a knock at your door and you assume it's him, even though you find it odd of him to knock, since you had offered him a spare key. the knocking is insistent and loud. you grumpily stalk up to your door, swinging it open. expecting to be met with an extremely pushy telemarketer but instead you're met with an extremely tall, red haired man.

he had to be a little bit taller than katsuki, from what you can see. his hair spikes up and blends together so well it takes you a moment to notice those front pieces aren't hair, but horns. you look behind him for good measure and notice a long, red tail swaying from side to side like a cat's. he smiles wide, opening his mouth to speak and you're suddenly face first with an insanely sharp set off teeth. those are way sharper than katsuki's, by a long shot.

he's a dragon.

"hey !" he chirps happily. he doesn't seem like that big of a threat, you dare even say friendly. friendlier than your dragon friend that's for sure.

"hi.." you say wearily, tightly clutching onto your door preparing to slam it in his face should he give you a reason to. he seems to realise you're suspicious of him, as he backs up a little bit, raising his hands up in surrender.

"don't worry, i mean you no harm ! honest !" he reassures, looking you up and down. he seems to find something funny because he snorts but tries to hold it in. you look down and realise you're wearing your most ridiculous set of sanrio pyjamas, with cinnamoroll slippers to match.

great. very awesome. just perfect.

you look away from his and he seems to sense you starting to become flustered, (his senses sure are sharp, you'll give him that) lighthearteldly chuckling "i like your...footwear" he jests pointing with his chin towards your feet "very cute."

"did you need anything ?" you mutter, refusing to look at him because you feel like you'd explode from embarrassment. he jumps a little, seeming to remember what he came for and nods " yeah, actually ! i don't know if you'll believe me, but i'm a dragon."

"i can tell." you respond

"ya don't seem to be all the shocked.." he chuckles, looking a little dissapointed. it's kind of cute and you crack a small smile

"let's just say you're not the first dragon i've met." he nods, humming to himself and you can't tell if he actually heard you, let alone understood you.

"well, that makes things a little easier." he says " i'm actually looking for someone, a friend of mine. he's been missing for a little while and i'm looking for him." he explained

you raise and eyebrow in question "and what makes you think he'd be here?" you asked suspicously

"my buddy's real strong, so i could sense his mana output was somewhere around here ! i was gonna go from door to door, but it felt the strongest over here, so i decided to check your residence first !" he beams.

oh wow.

you don't even want to imagine what would've happened if someone had seem him like..that outside of their door. you can just thank the heavens above he came to your door first. nevertheless, he seems harmless. and he's pretty endearing, you're heart can't help but squeeze for him a little bit.

"oh, well—"

"what the fuck are you doing here ?!"

you and your new dragon friend both jump at the booming voice belonging to none other than your blonde dragon roommate, having just returned from doing the groceries. he doesn't look pleased, unlike his friend, who's breaks out into a grin seeing him.

"bakugou, man !" he rushes over to his friend, his tail happily following along. he clasps his hand behind his friends back, said friend doesn't budge and opts to glare from the corner of his eye.

"what the fuck are you doing here, shitty hair ?!" katsuki growls again, hands tightening around the grocery bags. you wince at the harsh nickname but his friend doesn't even flinch, probably already used to your dragon friends potty mouth.

shitty hair (?) simply laughs "what type of question is that ? i came here to get you !" his friend throws an arm around his shoulder and katsuki's jaw tightens.

you can't wipe the look of shock on your face fast enough because katsuki notices it. his eyebrows furrow as he's sure you'd heard what his mysterious companion had said, not that you could miss his frankly loud voice.

a beat passes and katsuki just shakes his head, grumbling at his friends words." i didn't ask you to come for me."

his hold loosens just slightly on the grocery bags in his hands and he sighs, shaking his friends shoulder off and walking past you both into your apartment, you both follow after him.

"c'mon man ! everyone's been worried about you !" kirishima pleads, accidently bumping past you to reach his friend. bakugou insists on ignoring him, stuffing the groceries in the fridge and the pantry "you've been gone for way longer than you usually are when you get mopey, so i just wanted to check up on—"

bakugou throws his friend a pointed glare, the heat of his stare causes his friend to flinch and his tail to drop. bakugou clenches his fists once, then twice and goes back to putting tonight's ingredients away "get lost. i don't need you to check up on me." he all but growls "i'm obviously fine, so tell the others to quit worryin.'"

"as if ! what am i supposed to tell them ? that you're suddenly working for humans ?" his friend seems to remember your existence and turns to you, waving his hands around " a— a nice human, of course !"

as confused as you are, you offer him a small smile "no offense taken." he smiles at you, sharp teeth on display, you miss the way bakugou slams the fridge door a little more harshly than usual. "i'm not workin for them ! as if i'd ever stoop that low, don't fuckin' insult me !"

"w-well what am i supposed to get from...this ?!" his friend gestures towards the now empty grocery bags in katsuki's hands. bakugou rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to respond when you cut in.

"uhm, excuse me ?"

this might be the stupidest decision you've ever made, standing in between two huge men who also happen to be dragons was definetly not something you expected to happen in your lifetime.

"i can tell you have..issues" you trail off "but i would like to get some things straight first, alright ?" you look to both men for answers. your unexpected guest nods obediently while your grouchy friend simply grunts in response, looking away from you. you sigh.

"alright first," you turn to the red haired dragon man " who are you ?" he jumps, rubbing at his nape, suddenly bashful "oh, right ! sorry, how rude of me !" he apologizes to you so easily. he's been suprisingly easy to deal with and you're starting to doubt what bakugou said about other dragons being meaner than him.

"the name's kirishima ! kirishima eijirou ! i'm sorry i didn't introduce myself sooner" you hear bakugou scoff behind you but you choose to ignore it, nodding at kirishima's words. "..alright kirishima, what do you want from bakugou here ?" you ask, nodding your chin behind your back towards your spiky haired roommate.

kirishima nods " bakugou suddenly went missing after an incident happened at our ten-year-tournament. i didn't bother looking for him at first, cuz he likes to be alone when he's brooding." he chuckles nervously "but he didn't show up after a few days and suddenly we realized he had dissapeared. i couldn't just give up on my bro, so i went looking for him." he explains.

"well ya found me, whoop-dee-fuckin'-doo." katsuki deadpans " so now you can fuck off—"

you fix bakugou with a sharp glare, and he clamps his mouth shut in suprise, before grumbling to himself, deciding to kick his shoes off. you sigh, focusing back on kirishima who looks shocked for a reason you don't know, then fixes his gaze on you again and straightens up, you look at him funny but you don't bother asking him about his behavior.

"ten-year- tournament ?"

"yeah !" kirishima bellows like you're a sergeant "it happens every decade between multiple different factions within our kingdom to avoid resorting to an all out war" he explains " we organize a tournament with representatives from every faction to take part in a sort of all out combat tournament !"

" the winning faction is granted a significant advantage and influence. the tournament serves as a means to determine a balance of power and settle disputes peacefully." katsuki adds on from behind you, with kirishima nodding along excitedly.

your jaw practically drops to the floor as you process the information. bakugou looks damn near constipated when you look back at him in shock. he squirms and shuffles around refusing to meet your eye.

bakugou scoffs for the umpteenth time today, shoving his hands in the pockets of the pants he chose out a few weeks ago when you'd went to the mall "...s'not that big of a deal.." he mutters, basically to himself but unfortunately for him both you and kirishima hear him.

"what ?!" you both exclaim, bakugou squints harder, his expression souring. you turn to kirishima and he doesn't need to be asked anything to know you want to know more. he continues nervously, despite having bakugou's glare concentrated on him as if telling him to be quiet.

"basically, bakubro over here fougth against someone from another faction, but it didn't end well."

"fuckin' bastard played dirty.." bakugou snarls behind you.

"right..and this is where we are now" kirishima finishes, sweatdropping.

you nod, eyebrows furrowed. you feel like the puzzle pieces are connecting, but you're somehow just as confused.

"so, what you said about that duel stuff yesterday, and you being replaced—" you turn to bakugou, who finally decides to look at you and it stuns you a bit, you try not to let it show too hard.

"replaced ?!" kirishima repeats "no way, man ! you're our best fighter, there's no way you'd get replaced"

bakugou's eyebrows furrow a bit more in response, his expression bitter as he looks off to the side, you can see the hurt he's trying to mask with anger " 'm obviously not the best if i fuckin' lost.." he chokes out lowly. your heart hurts for him and you want nothing more than to bury your fingers in his hair and have him purr into your touch to make him feel better.

" we all know that yuma guy didn't play fair ! maybe we could have some kinda—re-tournament or something !" kirishima tries encouraging his friend but it's futile as bakugou's jaw tightens again, glaring daggers at his friend, silencing him.

"don't be dumb. there's no way that's ever gonna happen, the elders are gonna see what they wanna see, whatever we have to say doesn't fuckin' matter." he says through his teeth.

" but—"

"enough, kirishima." bakugou snapped "forget it." it's all he utters before walking off to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

it's so quiet you could hear a pin drop, kirishima and you hold your breath until he let's out a hopeless sigh.

"hooooh, maaann...i messed up bad.." he covers his face with his hands, groaning into them. you walk up to him to rub his arm comfortingly. you don't really know what else to do but try to comfort him.

"hey, it's alright just—give him some time to cool off, he gets cranky after being around humans for too long." you chuckle. kirishima offers you a tiny smile, letting out a huff of laughter "well, he doesn't encounter humans long enough to get cranky at them."

you tilt your head in confusion "what do you mean ?" you ask.

"bakubro doesn't like humans, he makes that..really clear.." he sweatdrops, his tail swishes slowly. "but i've never seen him take anything from a human before," he looks down at you and flashes you a cute grin "he must really like you !"

your heart skips too many beats.

it pulses like it did yesterday, when he'd been so close. with his breath against your face and his face so close to yours and his lips so close to-

"hey, you okay ? you look a little sick.." you feel something hard against your forehead, then realise it's his pressed against your own "do ya have a fever..?" he mutters almost to himself.

you jump back damn near five meters away from him as you process how close he is. he's way less shy about being physical compared to katsuki, by a long shot.

"i-i'm okay ! no need to worry about me ! m'fine !" he pouts at your response " we must have freaked you out, right ? m'sorry for the outburst." he apologizes, bowing his head a little. maybe it's because he's so nice or you've gotten used to petting dragons, but you place your hand against his spiky hair, rubbing at it softly "it's really not your fault, no need for apologies."

his eyes widen for a fraction of a second then dilate and his tail wags like a puppy's. "okay..f'you say so." he mumbles shyly, his voice now barely a fraction of what is was before " thank you, human.."

you're about to respond when the bathroom door opens and your met with bakugou, who's face morphs from his usual grumpy resting face, to confusion, to being damn near enraged. kirishima's about to talk again, possibly trying to convince his friend to return with him but katsuki marches over before he can even take a breath and proceeds to rip your hand out of kirishima's hair with a growl.

you gasp in surprise, his hand is so warm around your wrist. it makes you feel warm all over. kirishima tries to speak again but is interuppted yet again and if you could think straight you'd feel bad.

"kirishima." katsuki growls lowly, grip still secure around your wrist "come outside with me for a second."

kirishima looks at his friend, then to you and your arm in his grip. then nods, his eyes are a little wide "okay, sure." he says. katsuki grunts in acknowledgement and kirishima walks off ahead, not before offering you a wave and a cheery 'it was nice to meet you human !" you offer him a weak wave in return, still stunned.

before he leaves, katsuki turns to you. he looks down at your hand like he'd forgotten he'd grabbed it. he looks up at you, ears and face reddening, but he doesn't make any move to let go. instead, he harshly grabs your hand like a ragdoll and places it ontop of his head. his eyes remain fixed onto your face, your heart beats so fast your afraid it'll blast out of your chest at this rate.

it takes you a minute but almost reflexively, you curl your fingers to start scratching at the mop of hair on his head. he closes his eyes almost immediatly, chuffing into the air as he leans into you just slightly when you scratch at the spot right next to one of his horns.

the entire interaction takes up 5 seconds, but you feel like decades just passed by, and you really don't mind much. katsuki opens his eyes slowly to look at you. his eyes shine like he has something he wants to say, like he's debating if he should say something.

"i'll be back.." he whispers, voice low and gravely.

"okay.." you whisper back "don't be long. you're makin' dinner tonight, right ?" you giggle.

he huffs in your face and some smoke comes out, he let's out a barely there chuckle when you scrunch your nose up at him " dumbass, don't think i forgot it's your turn. you're lucky m'letting it slide tonight." he snickers. you tug at his horn and he snarls at you. before leaning back up again. he looks at you for just a moment longer then turns away out the door.

the butterflies in your stomach fly around in a fury, flapping their wings away as a dazed smile pulls at your face. you're satisfied enough for now to ignore the seed of doubt growing in your stomach.

" woah, there's tons of humans here, huh ?" kirishima says.

katsuki merely grunts in response. they had decided to settle down at a nearby park. it's crawling with humans and katsuki is somewhat dissapointed to realise he isn't all that bothered by their presence anymore. not as much as before at least.

"it’s annoyin." he mutters halfheartedly, leaning against the park bench they were sitting on, he sighs. kirishima chuckles kicking at some sand, frightening some pigeons nearby. "this place is real peaceful, i can see why you've been here for so long."

bakugou scoffs "wasn't originally what i was plannin’. you think i'd willingly spend my time mingling with humans, shitty hair ?"

"well, kinda seems like it's what you were doing with the human you're living with," kirishima quips, innocently shrugging to himself "just an observation." he adds.

"spell observation, then you can try to act smart with me, dumbass."

"hey, not cool ! i'm not stupid !" kirishima whines. he can't help himself and chuckles. bakugou cracks a faint smirk.

" i wasn't gonna live with that shitty human, just happened to blast through her apartment after losing that stupid tournament. was injured an’ she let me stay till i got better, or whatever." he explains. kirishima furrows his eyebrows, visibly confused.

"i mean, you woulda been blasted off pretty far, but it's been weeks, man.. have you gotten weaker or-"

"of course not, shitty scales !" bakugou growls "as if that weakling extra would've gotten me that bad."

"but..you're healed now, aren't you ?" his red haired friend asked. katsuki cringes at the way he's hesitant to answer him.

"yeah.." he utters.

both men stay quiet after that. katsuki sees a man walking his dog and a couple with a little girl in between them.

"you like that human a lot, don't you." kirishima speaks into the silence. katsuki doesn't respond. he sees two humans walking together, smiling and holding onto each other’s hands.

"tch. as if i could like that shitty human.." he says. kirishima can hear his friend doesn't sound completely sure of himself, despite being the last person he expected to ever be unsure of themselves. the blonde barely lasts a minute before sighing to himself. he leans his forearms against his legs.

"i think.. i think she's..y'know.." katsuki groans, grabbing onto his hair, trying to hide his face to cover up his embarrassment. kirishima only smiles to himself knowingly. kicking his feet up slightly in the air. he scratches his hair in the spot his horns usually are, it feels weird to hide them, he thinks.

"yeah, i know." kirishima answers "so, what do you plan to do ?"

"i don't know" katsuki huffs, letting his hands drop from his hair to back onto his lap. " i don't fuckin' know.."

katsuki returns about an hour later.

you're a little saddened to see that kirishima isn't there with him. "did kirishima leave ?" you ask loud enough so he can hear you from the entrance. he doesn't respond as fast as you'd like him to, the seed of doubt forms again. he walks up to you right infront of the couch and your eyebrows furrow when you see his expression. he refuses to look at you like he did yesterday, your heart squeezes.

"he's waitin' outside." his voice is barely loud enough for you to hear, you turn down the volume of the movie you're watching to hear him better. you see him squint at the floor like he's upset about it.

"oh." you snuggle into the couch, trying your hardest to get comfortable "is he coming over for dinner ?" you ask.

katsuki clenches his fists, taking a breath "no, he—listen." he looks up at you and his eyebrow furrow harder, it's heartbreaking and you want to reach out to him but you can't bring yourself to move.

"i..i have to go." he says, keeping his eyes on you.

you feel like someone just punched you in the gut.

you don't know how or what to feel. you knew he wouldn't be able to stay forever, you're both completely different. you have different lives, different routines—you're fully different beings. but somehow you'd tried to convince yourself that you weren't all that different from each other. that because you'd gotten used to watching movies, bickering, cooking for each other and folding laundry together, you'd thought maybe things could be different. you could've made this your routine.

"o-oh. oh." you say, voice wobbly "oh, yeah, okay..but your injuries.."

"it's fine i—" he cuts himself off, taking a deep breath. you don't like seeing him like this. katsuki decides he hates the look on your face more than anything. " i was supposed to leave a while ago."

your heart hurts, so so much. it hurts because the look on his face shatters you. it hurts because his words are shattering you. you can't help but feel a little stupid, dragons were really something else. they're not like regular humans, of course he wouldn't heal like one.

"okay..okay." your grip on the remote tightens so hard it starts to hurt. katsuki bites at his lip, he stands there like he's stuck to the floor. the conversation is over. no tears, no screaming, no fighting. it's over but his body won't allow him to move. like he should stay, stay where he feels right.

he should stay here with you.

without another word, katsuki turns around and leaves.

you sit there on the couch for a moment longer, watching his back as he walks away from you. going back to where he actually belongs.

back home.

you feel a giant lump in your throat, your eyes cloud up as you hear the door close behind him along with the low sound of the movie still playing on your tv. you lay down on your couch and cry. tears roll down your face as you shove your head deeper and deeper into one of the pillows and sob.

it seems it was your turn to make dinner tonight, after all.

AAAANNND it is done ! ngl i kinda felt a lil pain in my chest writing this LMFAOOO ughhh my love hate relationship w angst is doin number on me rn :(( welp anyway i had alot of fun writing either way , and i hope you enjoy reading as well ! sorries it took so long ml's <3

taglist ! : @sikuthealien @rosemarygalaxy @guccirosegold @slashersl0t @queenpiranhadon @k0z3me @katsuisbaby

[azu1as]

You are amazing! Amazing! And I'm a greedy person, so I propose: Older! Time traveler! Baek Cheon and Tang Bo compete for Cheong Myeong's affection. CM is oblivious and CMun is in hell reserved for protective older brothers. Those perverted bastards! How dare they lust after his precious, naive and innocent sajae?! He'll break their heads!

You're so sweet to me 🥺🫶 thank you so much!!!!

also I ADORE TIME TRAVEL AUs sm you have no idea how giddy I got when I saw this ask WAHAHAHA

»—————————–✄

"Oh? He's pretty handsome..."

Tang Bo almost spills the alcohol he was pouring into his cup. His eyes immediately snap towards Chung Myung's face as he slowly lowers the bottle back on the table.

This guy slouched in front of him wasn't someone who gave compliments that easily. It took months of nudging and stubborn insistence for Chung Myung to finally admit that Tang Bo was 'passable-looking, sure, whatever'—a compliment that had to be drawn out tooth and nail but one that Tang Bo won through hard work and effort.

So, surely, he must have misheard Chung Myung's muttering.

"Did you say something, hyung-nim?" Tang Bo asks, smile twitching stiffly at the way Chung Myung's gaze remained locked on something—someone—behind Tang Bo as he took a long sip from his own cup.

"That man behind you," Chung Myung replies, pointing at the subject of their conversation with his mouth non-too-discretely. "He looks like a traveling prince or something."

Tang Bo doesn't know what minute expression passed through his face, but Chung Myung catches it well enough and raises a questioning eyebrow at him.

"I'm serious." Chung Myung insists, not realizing that Tang Bo is irritated for a completely different reason. "He really does look like some well-off to-do guy."

Tang Bo huffs and turns around without any subtlety whatsoever, determined to see what 'this prince guy' looked like to have managed to snag his hyung's attention so easily.

Tang Bo lets out an indignant noise. Okay, he'll admit it. The guy was abnormally handsome. He had well-defined androgynous facial features and an equally well-defined body, Tang Bo thinks, as his gaze locks onto the man's thick and muscled arms.

There might have been merit in Chung Myung's comment about this guy probably being a prince of sorts. If he was, Tang Bo would hedge a guess that he was a runaway one.

The man wore faded, plain white robes without any discernable insignia marking him from a sect or family. He had a similarly white headband strapped across his forehead with dark bangs framing an unblemished face.

If he was trying to disguise himself or hide his identity, he was doing a terrible job at it. Despite the simplicity of his outfit, his presence alone (and face) demanded attention.

"Told you." Chung Myung cheekily says, laughing at Tang Bo's disgruntled expression.

Even Tang Bo could admit that the man looks like he stepped out of one of the many heroic epics that common folk often passed around through books and verbal tales. How unfair.

Grumbling lightly, Tang Bo turns back to their table and throws back his cup of alcohol. "Bet he's just some rich runaway brat."

"Eh? Probably. But—ah, huh?"

A shadow falls over Tang Bo and he watches as Chung Myung's surprised face ends up trained above Tang Bo's head.

"Hello." The man greets them with his deep voice.

Ugh, Tang Bo grimaces as he pulls back his chair away from the man's shadow. Even his voice sounded handsome if that were even possible.

But Tang Bo was the gentleman between him and his hyung, so he replies, faking politeness, "Can we help you? My companion and I are in the middle of a meal together, you see."

Tang Bo tenses, immediately on guard when he sees the man's eyes sharpen as it turns towards him, clearly recognizing the dismissive tone Tang Bo used.

Other than an indecipherable flash in his eyes, the man's face (which felt more punch-able by the second, if you asked Tang Bo) remained unchanged.

The disruptor kept his gentle smile and Tang Bo was certain that he chose to stand where he did because of the way the lightbulb illuminated his face from above.

"It's alright, I can wait."

If Tang Bo had any less self-control, he would have already grabbed the man by the lapels of his faded robes and tossed him out of the establishment himself.

Who the hell was this man to have the audacity to look at his Chung Myung with such a warm gaze as he said that?

"Ha. Ha." Tang Bo grits out, a vein in his jaw ticking.

He doesn't care if this man looks like the textbook and fairytale version of a heroic warrior. His shamelessness should cancel out that stupid-looking face of his...!

Tang Bo feels a part of his soul leave at the unfairness of it all when Chung Myung shifts in his seat in involuntary self-consciousness.

Normal people wouldn't have noticed that—hell, not even Chung Myung himself probably realized!—but Tang Bo knew his hyung. They've spent too much time together to not not know each other's body language.

So why?

Why the hell did Tang Bo just spot a smirk on the man's face, huh?!?!

Chung Myung's eyes waver momentarily for reasons Tang Bo couldn't pick out, but Chung Myung hesitantly (why, hyung?!) opens his mouth and asks, "Have we...met before?"

Tang Bo's eyes nearly bulge out of his skull at the flirtatious-sounding sentence.

He knows Chung Myung doesn't realize it, but his hyung was personally handing over a signed warrant to this man, allowing him permission to take as many shameless liberties as he wanted.

In times like this, Tang Bo wishes his hyung wasn't as socially oblivious as he was.

He knows it's a futile hope to wish that the man missed the opening. But he seemed to recognize that Chung Myung was asking the question with pure face value.

Nonetheless, Tang Bo wishes he hadn't suggested this very detour for some alcohol because then they wouldn't have encountered this tall man in front of them.

The stupid, headband-wearing man hums as he fiddles lightly with the pink tassel on the hilt of his sheathed sword.

His gaze goes a bit distant as if recalling a far-off memory, and when he blinks back to reality, he lets out a deep, vibrating chuckle and locks eyes with Chung Myung.

"You were unforgettable."

Tang Bo's lips tremble. Why did it sound as if this man was insinuating something? His words felt like a romantic confession as well as a pointed barb directed at Tang Bo.

Chung Myung coughs lightly at the odd compliment thrown at him and throws back in one go the remaining alcohol in their shared bottle. He chuckles awkwardly before motioning at the man to sit down on the other side of the table.

Tang Bo doesn't think Chung Myung realizes it, but a light pink flush is spread over his cheeks.

And Tang Bo, unconsciously crushing the cup of alcohol in his hand, knew that it wasn't because of the alcohol.

[a-little-unsteddie]

how about steddie, with eddie in s3 and 9. "you're staring" (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

absolutely i will write this. i really want to write a full fic where eddie is dragged into the mess during s3, but at least i can get it out of my system for a bit with this. hope you enjoy it <3

9. “You’re staring.”

Prompts (not accepting new ones) || AO3

The thing about being drugged with Russian truth serum, is that Steve wasn’t sure how long it was supposed to last, but surely not as long as it had lasted so far.

Steve and Robin were sitting in the hallway between the water fountain they had drank from and the bathrooms they had stumbled out of not too long ago, giggling mindlessly at something neither of them really knew. They were leaning into each other and saying whatever came to mind, which at this point was a lot of nonsensical mutterings about the movie they had been watching.

“I think it’s out of our system,” Steve said, leaning his head back to watch the weird twinkling ceiling above them. It was still too nauseating to look at, so he let his gaze drift and caught on a familiar figure.

“Really?” Robin asked, tilting her head to look at him. Steve nodded, still watching Eddie Munson, who had yet to notice them, so he took the opportunity to observe.

Eddie spoke with his hands, for one thing, and he wore rings. The way the light glinted off the metalic pieces of jewelry never failed to catch Steve’s gaze. Eddie gesticulated wildly, carefree, as he spoke, and Steve couldn’t look away.

Robin was still babbling away beside him, to which Steve was half-heartedly listening to, but also, he couldn’t be judged for the fact that he was a little distracted. Eddie Munson was right there, looking like that.

Steve watched Eddie’s head tip back into a loud, rambunctious laugh and flickered his gaze to the person who had caused such an open display of joy. Gareth, Steve thought, if he remembered correctly. Someone who was also in Eddie’s little club of nerds. His gaze didn’t linger on Gareth for long, wandering back to the metalhead before too much time had passed. Eddie waved Gareth on, who went into one of the theaters that were showing Back to the Future, if Steve had to hazard a guess.

It was then that Eddie seemed to notice the two sitting where they were, but Steve didn’t realize, too busy checking him out shamelessly.

“Steve,” Robin said, giggling. Steve hummed in question, turning so his head was facing her direction, but he was still watching Eddie. “You’re staring,” she whispered. Steve made a noise of confusion, still just a little distracted.

“Can’t help it,” Steve said, which was not what he had wanted to say, so apparently they were still under the influence.

Steve blinked slowly as he brought his gaze down Eddie’s body, catching on the black hanky in his pocket, on the chains connecting his wallet to his jeans, his worn shoes, and back up again slowly, catching this time on the tears in his jeans, on the way his shirt was lifting as he walked.

Wait.

Walked?

Steve snapped his gaze up to Eddie’s face, realizing with trepidition that his appreciation had been caught.

Steve looked at Robin, and whispered loudly, panicked, “He’s coming over, what do I do?” Which did nothing but cause Robin to burst into giggles next to him, Steve made a noise of sadness, “Robin,” he whined, dragging out the ‘n’.

“You two, uh,” Eddie said, which caused Steve to snap his gaze back to him with wide eyes, “…alright?” He asked, causing Steve and Robin to look at each other and giggle mindlessly.

“No,” Steve said, unable to lie. Robin nodded her head in agreement with Steve. He continued to stare at Eddie, unblinking as he took in every feature he could now that Eddie was right in front of him. Eddie looked vaguely like he was concerned and confused, like he couldn’t figure out exactly what he was looking at, but knowing there was something off about it.

With the twinkling ceiling behind Eddie, Steve thought he looked a little ethereal, beautiful in a way that he’d never seen before.

“Uhh, thank you?” Eddie said, tilting his head to the side in confusion. Steve’s cheeks burned as he realized he had said that thought out loud—but, well. Steve couldn’t exactly lie, could he?

Robin continued to giggle, clearly finding the whole situation amusing, which Steve supposed he was glad she was at least finding the situation humorous.

“It’s true!” Steve said, unable to help himself and began babbling about everything he thought was beautiful about Eddie, which was a lot. “I love how you talk with your hands, your rings always look so hot I wanna suck on your fingers,” Eddie’s eyes widened as Steve continued, “you laugh with your full body and it sounds so carefree and pretty and I want to count every single one of your freckles, with my tongue,” Robin slapped a hand over his mouth, but Steve struggled slightly, finding himself wanting to continue despite knowing it was definitely not something he should be telling the other man so openly, especially since they were in public.

Thankfully, before Steve could say anything else, Dustin and Erica appeared.

“There you two are!” Dustin said, filled with exasperation. He looked at Eddie, “Sorry about that, they were supposed to stay in theater four, but they don’t listen very well. We got them from here,” he said, as he and Erica dragged them up. Before Eddie could even begin to argue, Erica and Dustin were pulling them down the hallway as it suddenly filled with people.

Steve kept glancing back at Eddie, trying to get one last look at the pretty man before they disappeared into the crowd.

[solar-halos]

wip word game

name of the game (aka the rules): You will be given a word, and share one sentence from your WIPs that start with each letter in that word

i am so sorry i was tagged so long ago by @ongreenergrasses but for some reason i was like “oh i don’t have wips” even though i have so many wips?? like idek.

anyway the word here is BEING

B - But he does care about Annie, so if this’ll make her favorite movie even better, then who’s he to complain? (teen beach movie au)

E - Eventually, Rhiannon’s breathing evens out. (ancient greek mythology au... slowly but surely it is getting added to)

I - “I’m not making it moo,” Annie says, even though she knows she will. (restaurant au)

N -  No offense, but these people have zero tact. (odesta planet of the apes crossover... its gonna be fierce)

G - Gabe is always with her. (pjo fic that is driving me crazy)

thank u sm for the tag, this was so much fun! tagging (if u want/have wips): @persephoneprice @boabel @bodyelectric77 @the-sun-and-the-sea. and literally anyone else with wips!! the word is gonna be FAIR

[starlitwhispers]

to another world, to another you limochi — 6000 words a/n: Happy early Birthday to my bff, my love, my heart!!!! i took some liberties here and there but i hope you enjoy this offshoot of your precious children i had sm fun writing them<3 @musubiki summary: The world is out of balance, something isn’t right. Mochi doesn’t know what it is, but she can feel it. She looks at Pom, who tilts her head, sensing her uncertainty. Something — something is missing… but what? ‘Him!’ A voice flashes in her mind, but she doesn’t know who ‘him’ is…

...

…

The bell rings. Her long, brown hair bounces as her body turns around from behind the counter. She smiles as she sees a regular patron come in, welcoming them. Somewhere, on one of the shelves of the lower counter, Pom lays curled into a ball. The day passes into obscurity. Stacking, sorting, a text from Coco here, a phone call from her mom there. She makes herself a nice warm drink, enjoys it in a free moment, and sees it is now 5 PM. Time to close up shop; her cardigan slips off her shoulder while she finagles into her bag searching for keys. 

Right before she closes the door, she looks around the shop to make sure nothing is amiss. Something feels off. She can’t put a finger on it, so she shrugs her shoulders and lets the door close behind her. She’ll figure it out tomorrow. Her fingers turn with the key in the lock and she drops the carabiner clip back into her bag with a clink. 

“Let’s head out Pom!” Mochi says to her familiar, happy and carefree. As she walks through the streets, the sun setting in the background paints the sky a blood orange. It’s a warm day in September, no sudden chills of autumn slipping by yet. When she walks through the front door of her home, her mother greets her from the kitchen. 

“Oh, hi honey, how was your day?” Tiramisu asks, drying a casserole dish with a cloth. 

“It was good! …I think,” Mochi responds, scratching the side of her neck and smiling sheepishly. Gently, she lets her bag slip off her shoulder and down her arm onto the couch. 

Her mother blinks, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “You think? That reply doesn’t inspire confidence, you know.” 

Suddenly, Mochi jerks upwards, her hands coming up and waving her mother off. “I really don’t mean to cause alarm or anything, I mean it. I just have been feeling strange today. Everything’s okay!” 

And with that, Tiramisu strides across the living room to her daughter, her hand reaching out to grab her daughter’s chin, and giving her a bottom-up inspection. Mochi’s cheeks flare up in heat, embarrassed by her mother’s overprotectiveness.

“Hmmm,” Tiramisu muses. “You seem fine to me. Maybe you’re just tired, go upstairs and rest. I need you to deliver something tomorrow across town for me.” 

“R-Really? Another delivery? Guess we’ve been doing pretty well lately, huh?” The brunette perks up, a little reassured her mother senses nothing off but also excited to make a delivery. 

“Yes, well, the M34TH hasn’t really been turning their noses up in the area for a while, so it makes for pretty good foot traffic for magic users around here. But remember, if you ever see that white uniform, try to discreetly walk away — or if they come up to you, act like you know nothing because—”

“Yes, yes, I know mom,” Mochi cuts in, pulling her cardigan tighter around her body to hug herself. “You’ve drilled it in that they aren’t company to keep for… witches like us.” 

“Right, good, I’m glad you remembered,” her mother nods, turning back to the kitchen. 

Mochi has yet to meet anyone from the M34TH, so in her mind, everyone from the M34TH is bad. She’s caught glimpses of their officers in the distance whenever she’s on the outskirts of town, but really, she’s never come anywhere close to them. The idea of coming in contact with anyone from the regiment… It frightens her. As she slogs up the stairs and into her bedroom, her body drops onto her bed. 

Pom has jumped up beside her, propped up and sitting. Her own mother says everything seems fine, but for some reason, she can’t shake the feeling. Again, just as she did at the bookstore, she looks about her bedroom. Everything is in its place, nothing out of turn. Something feels like it’s gone. Her phone buzzes. It’s Coco asking when they can hang out. An odd sensation sweeps over Mochi’s body, as she taps out of the conversation and sees her conversations with other contacts. ‘Mom,’ ‘Coco,’ ‘Oscar,’ and that is it… Of course, there were various numbers from old classmates and the like, but within her circle of immediate persons to talk to, that is it. She blinks, and then shoves her face in her pillow. 

She lifts her face from the pillow, sighing. She knows she should trust her mom, but this is a feeling she knows she cannot deny. Even if it is just her who can sense it, so be it. This must be a mission only she as the cat witch can handle. The world is out of balance, something isn’t right. Mochi doesn’t know what it is, but she can feel it. She looks at Pom, who tilts her head, sensing her uncertainty. Something — something is missing… but what? ‘Him!’ A voice flashes in her mind, and her body jolts up at the strange voice calling out to her. Someone is missing? But she doesn’t know who ‘him’ is…

Her eyes glance over at her alarm clock, it’s 6:30. Dinner should be ready. Mochi slowly tumbles out of bed, a headache growing behind her eyes. The frustration is beginning to burn with every blink, maybe she really is just tired? No, that isn’t it. And she knows it. 

The natural forces are affecting her; the essences and spirits are trying to let her know what is amiss. And her body is too immature to take it all in at once. She takes her seat at the table, her mother preparing dinner and setting it down. They spend the entirety of the meal talking about Tiramisu’s plans for both of them tomorrow; her mother will be headed to the inner capitol for a day or two due to restocking on certain ingredients, and Mochi will be traveling to the other side of town to make the delivery. 

Mochi quietly eats her portion of dinner, not a lot as her appetite wanes in the anxiety and uncertainty, and excuses herself to an early retirement for the night. She takes a bath in silence, her face gently bobbing above the waterline as she watches the steam rise to the ceiling. She dries herself, blow-dries her hair, lotions her body, and slips a big t-shirt on. She curls up into a ball into bed, Pom following suit after she turns the light off. 

“You know I can tell something weighs on your mind,” Pom says in the darkness, with Mochi’s back facing her. 

“Mhmm.. mmm… mmhpphm…!” Mochi mumbles into her pillow, deliberately groaning to herself in self-pity. 

“Hah?!” Pom yaps at her. 

At that moment, Mochi springs up, turning to look down at her cat familiar. “I said, do you think it’s possible to forget something, and not be able to know what it is?!” 

“Cannot say I do, is that not the whole point about forgetting? Being unable to recall it?”

The witch takes a breath, calming down. “Yeah, I would suppose you’re right. But I just can’t shake like I’m forgetting something really big, or like there’s something missing. Do you think I left something at the shop?” 

“No, I saw you look around anyhow. If you are that worried, just do one of the reminder spells, we can grab the stuff you need tomorrow.” 

Taking Pom’s suggestion to heart, Mochi relaxes. “Y-Yeah! You’re right, I don’t know why I’m getting so worked up! We’ll just get the ingredients tomorrow, and then I’ll have an answer for sure.” 

Laying back down, she stares at the ceiling. Tomorrow will be better. They have a delivery, when she drops the delivery off, she can pick up the ingredients she needs since they’re common items anyway. She loosens up a little more, closing her eyes. She likes when she has deliveries on the other side of town, more walking; it means she’ll have to take the route on the outskirts of town to get there. 

Tomorrow will be better. 

And boy, is she wrong about that. 

The next morning starts off nothing short of normal. Her mother has already up and left for the capitol, and Mochi eats breakfast with Pom. She grabs her bag off the couch where she put it yesterday, and retrieves the parcel Tiramisu prepared the night before for delivery. Slipping her shoes on, she’s ready to make her way through town to deliver this package. Pom follows at her heels as she locks the door behind her and begins making her way through the streets. It’s quite a long walk, approximately 1 hour to reach the destination, but she thinks she could use the exercise anyway. These are the moments she wishes her mother would allow her to use her broom, but it’s bright out. 

About fifteen minutes into it, she arrives at the outskirts of town to reach the route which will take her straight there. And right before she reaches it, as she walks down a narrow path through some buildings, white fabric flashes into her eyesight. Exactly what her mother told her the evening before to be aware of. An officer from the M34TH. Immediately, her heart starts racing, as this tall individual has caught sight of her as well. She barely has time to react and think before her body moves on its own, she turns and starts running away with Pom ahead of her. 

Tears well in the corners of her eyes as she runs away from him, she doesn’t dare turn back to look at him, but she can feel him on her heels. He’s close. Gasping for air, all she needs is to make it out of this narrow alleyway and she’ll be amongst other throngs of people. No way he can catch her then. Just feet before she hits a main road, she entertains the idea of turning her head back for a second. 

And she regrets this. 

Instantaneously, her eyes are met with green irises staring back into hers, she’s been overtaken already. He has grabbed her and gently forces her against the wall of the alley, it’s quiet as both of them pant. She finally takes a good look at the officer, his bright green eyes, as lush and colorful as the new spring leaves of a dogwood, piercing into her gaze, with short orange hair underneath his cap. Air catches in her throat, her mind doesn’t want to admit it, but her heart already has by the way it skips. He’s extremely handsome, a little too handsome to be on the wrong side. 

His large hands hold onto both sides of her arms, almost squeezing her together as his tall body bends over her, looking down. He isn’t looking at her with hostility, in fact, something about his stare is dripping with affection just like the sweat on his temple. And as if the sudden sprints and attack on her heart from physical charms haven’t been enough, the words that come out of his mouth almost send her spiraling. 

“Mochi, why would you run from me?” He breathes heavily, speaking all too familiarly with her. 

Her pink eyes go wide, her eyebrows rising in surprise and alert. He knows her name? Just how much information does the M34TH have on her already? Instantly, she goes into panic mode, terrified of the man before, no matter how gorgeous he is. Now she really wishes she had her broom. She turns her head slightly to the side, to see Pom looking at her cautiously. 

“Moch? Are you going to answer me?” The officer asks again, this time almost frantic undertones in his voice. 

The cat witch thinks carefully for a moment, about whether or not to answer him. Right now, she’s looking at him as if he has three heads, and is curious if a tail is about to sprout from his rear end in a moment from the way he’s addressing her so intimately. Her lips press into a thin line and air exhales from her nose. In a swift motion, she shakes his grip off her and he fumbles a little back. Huh, she thinks, he’s not that strong after all. 

Which is false. Truly, the officer hadn’t been holding her down against her will, or very tightly at all; it’s his last intention to harm her — unbeknownst to the witch, of course. He now stands a step or two from Mochi, his face contorted in frustration. 

“Are you joking around with me right now? Come on Moch, it’s me, Lime,” he says, the curve of his mouth turning downward. Something about his sudden burst of despondency feels genuine and tugs at her heart. 

“I-I don’t know anyone named Lime,” she finally answers him, turning her face towards the ground and stepping further away from him. 

With her moving away from him, he steps towards her, a hand reaching for hers, which she reflexively pulls away. “Mochi, we grew up together, we went to school together, we’re best friends, we… love each other,” Lime pleads with her, his words spilling out of his mouth like he’s trying to conjure up his own spell. 

“I’m sorry, I think you must have me mistaken for another Mochi,” the brunette asserts, her shoe dragging backwards, attempting to further the distance between them some more. 

“There’s no way you forgot me,” he turns his head up, regaining confidence and talking himself through it. “Yeah, some weird thing happened again, I don’t know how but I just woke up on the outskirts of town, and now that I’ve finally found you, I’m sure you must’ve just messed around with some magic a little too much and you’ve forgotten me somehow.” 

Forgot. 

Hearing his voice say the word ‘forgot’ is like lightning striking. For a second, she looks at him, clear as day. Her? Forget this man? Strange, her eyes observe him from the foot to the top of his head, but nothing about his visage sparks a memory. Strange, she continues to think, as his voice, his presence, something about him feels like a memory. Like she really has known him her whole life, and she could be forgetting—

“Don’t let him trick you, cat witch,” Pom breaks into her thoughts, sensing her student letting her walls down around this officer. “He may be beguiling you with some M34TH gadget we cannot see!” 

Immediately Mochi puts her guard back up, hesitantly furrowing her eyebrows back at him. Pom isn’t wrong, that could totally be the case; but something inside her just wants to believe him. 

“Oh, for the love of—!” he groans to himself. “Pom, I know you don’t like me, but you know I would never hurt Mochi!” 

Pom circles around him, her tail wiggling as she sizes him up and her snout crinkling at his scent. After a solid moment, she returns to Mochi’s feet, standing in between them. “I do not know any M34TH officers acquainted with my student, but you are quite a strange human… You smell different.” 

“Different, Pom?” Mochi asks, crouching down to her. The black cat nods her head, and then scratches the back of her ear with her hind leg. 

“Yes, almost like he is not from here.” 

Lime sighs in exasperation, his shoulders weeping. “I grew up here, I know this place like the back of my hand, just like the way I know you, Mochi.” 

For some reason, his assertion picks at her, and she finds herself frustrated, standing up to face him at eye level. “And just what does someone like you know about me? I would have never tangled myself up with the likes of the M34TH!” 

“I know you struggled with school, you hated it because it was hard to balance with becoming a witch at sixteen, I know where you live because I lived across the street from you, I know you lost your powers at one point in high school due to your nasty aunt, I know you overthink things and worry too much, I know you’ll only drink coffee with a shit ton of sugar in it, just like I know a million other little things about you,” he says in one breath, panting and smirking like he’s just proved a point. 

However, it has the opposite effect. Mochi begins recoiling, hugging herself and evidently creeped out by the amount of information this man has on her. But at the same time, he continues to speak about her and to her as if they really have known each other all this time… what if, just maybe…? 

“Compose yourselves,” Pom speaks, raising a paw. “I wasn’t done talking. I did not mean you were not from this town, but rather, this world. It could be very likely you belong to another dimension, and some forces of magic have to do with it—” 

“That’s not possible,” Lime cuts in. “I have incredibly high magic resistance, the highest in the regiment. You would need to be ridiculously powerful to have an effect on me.” 

Pom then looks at Mochi, who turns her head down. “If what you say is true, then look no further. The witch right here is more than capable of sending you back to your original world. Although I find it hard to believe my student in another realm would befriend the likes of you.” 

The cat witch stands there, looking at Pom, and then the officer. It truly sounds as if Pom also believes he isn’t from here, and the way he speaks really makes it sound as if they were friends. Another thought strikes her. Didn’t he previously say ‘love’? He and this other Mochi were lovers?! Heat rushes to her face, daring to entertain the idea. In her 21 years of life, she has never fallen in love with anyone. And this man, no less an officer from the M34TH, is apparently her beloved in another realm?

“Well, no use in trying to think about it more,” Pom continues talking. “Cat witch, take out your notebook and pen, we should write down the direct coordinates where he fell into the plane of existence. You — do you remember exactly where you awoke?” 

Mochi allows a strap from her bag to fall off her shoulder, scrambling to grab her book and pen. She shuffles over to Lime, her hands moving all about to open the book to a blank page, where she suddenly grasps onto her pen a little too tight and presses the tip into the paper a little too deeply, breaking the pen and squirting ink. 

All over Lime. 

The tall officer in white abruptly jumps, looking down at himself in disarray. A brief “oh no,” releases from Mochi’s lips as she gawks at his mess of an outfit. Pom looks away and shakes her head at the scene. And that is how the odd trio ended up returning to Mochi’s home, to allow him to clean up himself. It’s fine, the witch thinks to herself as she places her bag back onto the couch, the delivery isn’t anticipated until later in the afternoon at the latest, and this gives her and Pom some time to write up a game plan. 

A very, very strange quest has unfolded right before her, and she feels a responsibility to this ‘Lime’ knowing that another Mochi once dearly loved him. If it is true that another her loved him, she trusts herself… kind of. She tilts her head, her thoughts stopping her in her tracks. Such an odd conversation she continues to ponder, imagining another universe out there with another her. And somehow, she fell in love with an officer from the M34TH. As she works through this conceptual situation in her mind, she hands a towel to Lime, asking him to leave his top outside the door while he showers. 

There’s a quick potion she has handy in a cabinet that will take the stains right out and fix his clothes right up. After she removes the stains, she notices it is noon and feels a grumble in her stomach. So she heads to the kitchen to whip up lunch. She silently goes into her zone as she chops an onion on the cutting board, not realizing that Lime has finished up and… exited the bathroom shirtless. 

He stands there, his arm reaching for the top of the doorway, his temple touching the wood as he smirks in Mochi’s direction with beads of water trailing down his body. “Hmmm,” he hums, catching her attention. 

When her pink eyes notice him, pecs and all, her face immediately blushes a crimson hue, having never eyed a man’s body so closely and intimately before. She does not say anything as he stalks towards her, his shirt dragging in one of his hands. Mochi turns back to the cutting board on the counter, reciting in her head ‘focus Mochi, focus,’ as she chops up the onion. This, she instantly regrets, as Lime comes up from behind her, placing a hand beside hers on the counter. 

“Oooh, food — smells good like always,” he says gently to her, his breath hot in her ear. She carries on with the knife, trying with everything in her body to not cut herself in a fluster. 

“I-If you don’t mind,” she finally retorts. “Could you please back away? I’m trying to prepare lunch.” 

She hears a husky chuckle release from Lime’s mouth, where he responds instantly. “How about no? How about Mochi harassment hour!” 

At which he grabs at the choker on her neck, that he knows is sensitive, and laughs wholeheartedly. However, this does not amuse Mochi, who instead feels somewhat violated by this stranger, but at the same time self-conscious regarding all the insinuations. So, she pushes him away in a huff. 

“I don’t know anything called Mochi harassment hour! I’m not your Mochi, do you understand? So please just put a shirt on, and we can eat lunch and I can gather what I need to send you back!” She exclaims in one breath, her shoulders bobbing up and down in agitation. 

In the next moment, she realizes what she has done. That isn’t like her at all. Her eyebrows immediately release in remorse, her opalescent eyes turning to the side. Quietly, she turns back around, returning to the task she has at hand. Lime, on the other hand, is equally frustrated and dejected. But, what he has to say surprises her. 

“In the event you’re unable to send me back, I swear I’ll make you fall in love with me again, Moch,” he states, his voice low and serious. 

A second passes, and she hears him silently slip out of the home and out the door. She assumes he’s going out for some air, he seems like the type to need that after a confrontation like that. After she hears the door close all the way, she drops the knife from her hand and covers her cheeks with her palms. What on earth was that? She thinks to herself, her face burning a bright red, her heart pounding at the proximity they shared. No man has ever touched her neck before, no man has ever been so close to her skin before… 

Make her fall in love with him… again?! And he sounds so confident, it’s almost disgustingly… charming. He’s so charming, and something about his presence does something to her. She cannot explain it, but she is naturally drawn to him, wanting to stick around him. And she just met him this morning. Yet, everything inside her is betraying her heritage as a witch. She’s been stuck on this question: how on earth did other Mochi fall in love with an officer from the M34TH? 

She clenches a fist in front of the stove, finally understanding how. Because it seems, even in other dimensions, they are inexplicably drawn to one another. 

In all her life, no one has ever inspired such feelings in her. And all of a sudden, her self-proclaimed lover from another world has spun her out of her wits. She now also begins to doubt herself again, what if she isn’t able to send him back? What if she isn’t as strong as she and Pom think she is, and he really is too resistant to magic? What if, in the most ridiculous possible thought to entertain, she is okay with him being stuck here? 

Minutes pass as she sets the table with dinnerware and Lime serendipitously returns into the home, sitting at the table as if he’s done it a million times before. They eat their meal in silence, until the very end, where Lime breaks the quietude by acting normal and teasing her, as if nothing happened 20 minutes ago.  After lunch, Pom and Mochi re-set out for the delivery, their party of two now a party of an unexpected three. 

They make their way through town without hazard, and as they trek closer and closer to their destination, Lime complains like a child dragging his feet. 

“It’s not that big of a deal, I’m sure there’s some spell that will reverse everything and you’ll remember me again,” he says, waving an arm up in the air. 

“That’s kind of hard to do, if you never existed in the first place,” Pom answers, to which Lime narrows his eyes indignantly. 

“I’m sure if I were to remember you, I probably would have by now,” Mochi mumbles to herself, thinking a little deeper about the situation. Truly, could she have ever forgotten someone like him if they really had met in this world? She thinks not. 

“Besides,” Mochi brightens up her voice, smiling at Lime. “The person we’re delivering to will be able to give us some good advice! They’re quite knowledgeable about the magic world.” 

An eyebrow of Lime’s raises in curiosity as they walk deeper into the streets, coming to a part of town that is eerily familiar to him. Immediately, they overhear an older woman admonishing someone, a whizzing sound through the air as her long, oaken staff comes into view while she swings it. 

“No, no, not like that you heathen!” The small, short, yet absurdly agile, old woman chastises her apprentice, who shrugs his shoulders with a care-free grin. 

The young M34TH officer’s expression immediately perks up on sight of the apprentice, rushing over to him with a smile. This startles Mochi and Pom, who stand idly by to watch the moment unfold. 

“Well what do you know, it’s Oscar!” Lime rushes over to him, ready to put an arm around him for a noogie. Just like earlier when he reached for Mochi’s hand, Oscar reflexively moves away, unsettled by a M34TH officer suddenly acting like he knows him. As Oscar moves away, his cape swishes to the side, revealing both of his arms. “Woah, you’ve still got both your arms, too!” 

“What — What the heck Mochi, who the hell is this guy?” Oscar asks nonplussed, his hands grabbing onto their opposing arms and holding them against his body. As if reliving this morning, but replacing Mochi with Oscar, the brunette steps further away from Lime, eyeing him in suspicion. 

“H-Hold up there, Oscar,” Mochi steps in, putting herself between them. “This is… Lime. Pom thinks he’s from another universe, one where he and I grew up together, and I guess, apparently you too by the way he’s talking to you.” 

For a minute, Oscar looks Lime up and down and then brings his gaze back to Mochi, his head tilting to the side in disbelief. “Are you sure?” the brunette muses, his voice slightly lower in volume as he speaks to the cat witch. 

“Oh, he’s certainly not your average, crusty, old officer! That’s guaranteed,” the elderly woman cuts in, waving her staff. “Quite a strange thing happened to you, huh?” 

She stops herself in front of Lime, her circular glasses flashing as she looks up at him from the height of his knees. Her staff stands right next to her, its golden bauble dangling from the top which Lime can see his own reflection. 

“You’re tellin’ me, lady,” Lime agrees with her, his expression blank and his lips pressed into a line. 

“You can tell, too, Madam Springs?” Mochi asks her, a little relief resounding in her tone. 

Madam Springs then turns to Mochi, looking up at her face in consternation. “You can sniff him out already? My, the power of the cat is utterly terrifying all right.” 

“Oh no, Pom was the one who noticed it! I had no clue at all,” she renounces the woman’s statement, shaking her head. 

“Ah, I see,” Madam Springs replies, growing quiet. “Well! Good luck with that.” 

And she starts waddling away. 

“W-Wait! Madam Springs, I was hoping to ask for your expertise on the matter!” Mochi moves to stand in front of her, her expressions pleading with the woman. “And besides, we have your order! Don’t you need this?” 

With that, Mochi pulls a small parcel from her bag, handing it over to Madam Springs. The short lady glances at it, takes it from her hand, and then throws it over her shoulder in Oscar’s direction. Oscar, acting as if this is nothing new, immediately rushes forward to catch the package in time. 

“Expertise? What would I know about some kid who jumped through dimensions or whatever?” Her oaken staff waves in the air again, trying to pass off the witch. 

“I mean, you have lived a long time, there’s gotta be something you know,” Oscar slips in, shrugging his shoulders. 

Her head instantaneously whips around, glaring at him. “Why you—!” 

And while the old woman swings her stick with all her might in Oscar’s direction, with Mochi attempting to deescalate the situation, Lime stands off to the side, watching. As if he’s not even present, everyone argues about him, his circumstances, and all he can feel is… loneliness. It’s as if Mochi has disappeared all over again — although she’s right in front of him — and he can’t contribute anything to help. 

His gloved hand grips at the fabric forming a fist, a squeak sounding from the material rubbing so hard. But it’s like a drop in the ocean, again, with no one to notice. Not even Mochi. He senses himself growing frustrated, because being helpless is the last thing he ever wants to feel. This world isn’t his? These people in front of him aren’t his? No one remembers or knows him? He never thought he would see the day when Lime Goldwood became… irrelevant and unknown. And that’s not to say with an arrogant air — it’s just that he’s always been… someone. 

And now he is no one. 

His green eyes flash over the cat witch again. What if he’s unable to go back? He would have to start all over again with Mochi. How could he make her love him again? Make her? No, he shakes his head in disgust of himself. Mochi isn’t someone to be won or made to do something. She comes to her own decisions, has her own preferences, is her own person — that’s the reason why he fell for her in the first place. 

While he’s thinking to himself, the rest have calmed down and begun discussing the situation at hand. Madam Springs contemplates on the problem aloud, humming to herself intently. 

“I’ll say you have your work cut out for you,” the woman says to Mochi. “He’s a tough one, a black canvas. You’ll be needing a lot of stamina to send him back.” 

“But it is doable?” the witch asks. 

“Well sure, but like I said, lots of stamina.” 

Mochi looks at Lime, and then at Pom. But Pom stares back, her expression unnerving and straight. Mochi knows exactly what that means, and it means Pom’s leaving the decision up to her. She makes the choice about sending Lime back, and that’s if she can. He’s a black canvas, she’s never tried magic on someone like that before. 

Her eyes return to Lime, who’s gazing back somberly. She doesn’t know why, but she senses a great deal of uncertainty in him; and she doesn’t blame him one bit. The idea has been hard for her to grasp — well, not so much really, since she is a witch — but more difficult to come to terms with this man being someone she loves in another timeline. If she herself had been thrown through a dimension, into a world just like the one she grew up in, only to find no one she cares for remembers her, much less the person she’s in love with, well… 

Safe to say, she breaks her own heart thinking about it. 

And she admires him for a long second, because he has the mind and strength to deal with it far more confidently than her. In the soft silence, with murmurs of passersbys and distant car noises, she nods at both Pom and Lime. It’s the right thing to send him back; it’s her duty as the cat witch to restore balance. 

They say their farewells to Oscar and Madam Springs — who wish them good luck on their endeavors to send Lime back — and tread their way back to her home. As they walk back, Pom advises Mochi to rest for the night, so that tomorrow morning her strength will be optimal to cast the spell. Approaching the house, dusk has already begun to scatter across the sky in hues of lilacs and roses from the setting sun. It has been a long day, indeed. 

Mochi’s heart feels worn out, as she watches Pom head inside. Lime lingers behind her, he’s been eerily quiet the entire route home, and she’s not too sure if it’s because he’s hungry or what. Perhaps she should start dinner soon—

“Moch,” he starts earnestly, breaking into her thoughts. “Will you be okay tomorrow? I don’t… I don’t want you to send me back, if you’re at risk for being hurt.” 

His concern startles her, and then she eases into it quickly, as she done with all the feelings he’s flung at her today, as if they’ve been doing it for years. Of course he’s worried about the person he most fervently loves. 

And that’s her. 

But not her at the same time. She has to remind herself. 

Gently, she shakes her head, her hair bouncing in the movement and a small smile of reassurance across her lips. “I wouldn’t have agreed if I couldn’t do it, besides you—” she stops herself for a moment, unsure if she should finish. She’s not trying to hurt feelings, whether or not they’re his or hers; at this point she doesn’t know whose she's hurting. “You don’t belong here, Lime. This isn’t the world you were born in, this isn’t your world.” 

“Any world with you in it is my world,” he replies, steadfast and sincere. 

She feels a hiccup in her heart, a flutter in her chest, an unspeakable response to the waxing poetic he spouts at her like it’s nothing. She’s left speechless as the sun finally rolls down, leaving them in the glimmer of the streetlamp overhead. A faint gust brushes by their ankles, her face beating red, his green eyes unwavering. 

“No matter the time, dimension, world, or realm—”

He steps closer, the streetlight shining over his face. There’s something in the air, some kind of chill, making the hair on the back of her neck stand. And it’s like there’s a hand over her heart, gripping it intensely, deftly, as he confesses to her how much he loves her. 

“I’ve always been yours, Moch.” 

Goosebumps fleck across her body. Her heart beats rapidly and her cheeks burn. Summer’s supposed to end this month, the heat’s to blame. It’s confusing her, how it’s cold in the morning and hot in the afternoons. It’s not… him. It’s not. To do right by her role, to do right by her birth, she must send him back. 

“I have to do it,” she breathes out, her eyes growing red. 

His gaze softens on her, stepping closer and bending down. His fingers gingerly and tenderly tilt her chin up at him, and he does exactly what she has feared the most to experience. 

They kiss. 

It’s affectionate, delicate, and bittersweet. It's warm and impossible to take in. It's rough but kind. It's slow, but not slow enough. It’s everything she’s wished for and wanted, yet not at the same time. He slowly pulls away, giving her a loving and emotional smile. 

“I know,” is all he says in a low cadence. He walks inside the home, leaving her at the front of the house. Night has fully fallen by now, and she is alone with the stars and space. He’s shaken her resolve, he’s shaken her whole world. Her eyes flicker up to the sky, asking the universe for an answer she knows she won’t receive. 

Tonight is a full moon. The perfect night for a witch to rest. 

Somehow, Mochi is able to lull herself to sleep that evening. Perhaps it is the heavy weight of responsibility on her shoulders, or the slim chance she messes up the spell; but she knows how paramount it is for her to receive her rest. It is a still night. 

When dawn breaks, she awakes with a serious expression, looking out her window at the pale orange sky and seeing the sun in the horizon. It is time. She leaves her bed and readies herself for the day, meeting Pom and Lime at the bottom of the stairs. He’s quiet, Pom’s quiet. They head down to the basement to prepare for the spell. Since it’s a type of transportive spell, she needs to draw a circle with Lime standing in the middle. She uses her white chalk sparingly, the scratch noises screeching as she etches into the ground. 

After writing the last sigil, she wipes her nose with the back of her hand and stands back to read her work. She has to make sure all the proper markings are there. Afterwards, she takes a deep breath. Mochi turns to Lime. 

“It’s ready, can you stand in the middle?” she asks him, almost hesitantly. 

He nods his head and struts over to the middle of the circle. She initiates muttering the incantations, and suddenly gales begin to rise and twist around them; the sigils on the ground start to glow and shine brighter as she continues speaking. Mochi can feel the magic begin to drain from her body — it’s not something so simple as time travel — time travel is against the witches’ laws. This spell is about sending someone to another dimension. Something almost unfathomable to Mochi. This is an entirely too powerful spell to cast. 

But she has to. For both of their sakes. 

Lime can see the distress surfacing in her face; his brows knit in worry and his lips are pressed into a line in heartache. He clenches his fist, he holds down his tongue until he can’t anymore. 

“Mochi, please, remember, you don’t have to do this if it hurts you,” he entreats her, a pained smile across his mouth. He’s trying to reassure her, it simply doesn’t matter to him. They could be apart in universes, galaxies, dimensions — but he would always find her. Even if she didn’t remember him. And Mochi realizes this. And his words cut like a knife on her heart, because more than anything, she’s come to terms with their undeniable connection. 

She almost takes everything back in that very instant; but in a swift second she knows. She knows it’s time. He’s not her Lime, and she’s not his Mochi. She smiles to herself with her eyelids welling up, the winds and forces sweeping up around her and Lime — almost becoming a violent tornado with the two of them at the center — his green iridescent eyes staring back into her fiery pink gaze. That’s a lie. No matter where, no matter when, just as he said last night, he’d always be hers and she would always be his. 

For once, she’s jealous of herself. 

“Goodbye, Lime.” 

It all fades to black. 

…

…

…

The bell rings. Her long, brown hair bounces as her body turns around from behind the counter. She smiles as she sees him standing in the doorframe, an all too commonplace smirk spread across his mouth. 

“Come on, Moch,” he tilts his head with a husky plea. “It’s almost dinnertime and I’m starving.” 

“All right, all right, let me grab my things,” she answers, quickly grabbing her bag and Pom following at her heels. As she heads to meet him at the door, she turns around, looking about the store. A moment passes, she breathes out. 

“What’s up?” Lime asks, an eyebrow raising in curiosity. 

She turns back to him, her cheeks tint rose-colored. “Nothing,” she starts, heading out the door and naturally taking the tall officer’s hand into hers. “There’s nothing wrong at all.” 

Everything is just right, as it should be. 

[good-beanswrites]

Happy Valentine's Day @artsy-azure ! Here's your gift for the @milgram-valentines-exchange 💖

Fuuta x Minato (oc) ~ The first section takes place right after his T2 interrogation, and then skips ahead to a tiny post-milgram scene :3 I hope you enjoy!

Fuuta thought he would drown. Not sink into water or anything like that; he was worried the voices filling his mind would completely suffocate him. There were too many of them. Too many people, all of them knowing every dark corner of his mind, and shouting into it. It should have been impossible for one voice – one softer than all the rest – to reach him.

Then again, everything about that voice should have been impossible.

“Fuuta… Hey, Fuuta… Are you alright?”

He blinked. He scrambled over to the nearest wall. There were no visible openings in the cell, not a single imperfection across any of the surfaces, yet Milgram’s intercom system functioned just fine. Most days it would just deliver the ear-rattling bell to tell him the time. On bad days, it carried Es’ summons to the interrogation room for his extraction. On worse days, it carried Es’ summons to the courtroom for his verdict.

On the very best days, it would bring him the voice of Hoshizawa Minato.

(Though, seeing as he had just returned from a catastrophic extraction, he wasn’t sure what type of day it was yet.)

He tore his attention away from the chorus of judgements and insults. He pressed his shoulder against the wall, still unsure where the sound was coming from, but knowing it was nearby.

“I’m here,” he said, hushed. More than anything he wanted to yell and scream, but he would never risk it, now. Minato had gone through a hell of a lot to break into Milgram’s systems, and he wouldn’t let his big mouth ruin all that. It had already ruined just about everything else.

“How are you holding up?”

Fuuta pressed his lips together. “Any news on getting us out of here?” was all he said.

Hundreds of miles away (or perhaps next door – neither of them could really know), Minato’s fingers adjusted his headset.

“I’m still working on it. These things take time.” 

“I’m definitely gonna need it after today.” 

“Your interrogation… I know.”

Fuuta pulled his hood down tighter, tufts of ginger hair ruffling underneath. “How much did you see?” 

Minato’s eyes flicked over to another monitor. It displayed the files he’d gained access to a few hours prior. It would crush Fuuta to hear about yet another person peeking into his personal moments, so he opted for a non-answer.

“I don’t have cameras. I don’t see much at all.”

“Tch, I’m not a damn idiot, I know that! I meant, how much did you hear?”

“...Everything.” 

Fuuta squeezed his eye shut. He bit a curse back. There came silence.

Minato actually double checked some of his monitors, making sure they hadn’t been disconnected.

“So then, you know,” Fuuta said at last. “There’s no fucking way I’m getting forgiven this time around.”

“You can’t be so sure. The–”

“No one in their right mind would forgive me after that.” He winced, remembering his harsh cries at the end of the interrogation. What kind of accused murderer shouted “I’ll kill you” as their plea of innocence? When he wasn’t running his mouth with threats, he’d been pleading with Es like some kind of coward. And Minato has heard all of it. Fuuta could only imagine the horrors that the extraction held. Who could forgive him after they saw his anger, or worse, his pleasure? Who could ever look kindly on someone like that?

“I would.”

Fuuta’s eyes widened. He let himself sink further into the wall. A strangled laugh escaped him. He let his head hang down. No matter how much he wanted to protest, Minato was as honest as they come. If he said he forgave Fuuta, he meant it. 

“Yeah, like I said, no one in their right mind.”

Minato cracked a smile. 

“You don’t think I’m in my right mind?”

Fuuta scoffed. “You post pictures of clothes for a living. And in your free time, you plan impossible jailbreaks for murderers. Doesn’t sound quite sane to me.”

“Aw, come on. Do you think it’s impossible?” 

Minato was still smirking, ready for some more of their typical back and forth. Fuuta surprised him by pausing. 

“Well, it should be impossible. But…”

They’d been speaking for some time now. Whether it was quick comments when Es wasn’t around or long conversations into the night. Fuuta had seen many sides of him, and knew that he had what it took. He wasn’t like the vast majority of internet personalities – weak or needy or inexperienced. He’d proved himself time and time again. If anyone could pull this off, it would be Minato. 

“If it’s you… there’s a chance.”

“You’ve got that right. You can count on me, alright?”

Fuuta took a deep breath. The tightness of the uniform and the bandages seemed to lessen.

“Although,” Minato put on a falsely serious voice, “we’re gonna have a long talk when you get out… about that yellow jacket you own.”

“Haaah? What’s wrong with my jacket?’

“There are a hundred stylish ways to wear it and that was not one.”

“The fuck does that mean?” 

“You’ll be grateful when someone who ‘posts pictures of clothes for a living’ helps with your wardrobe.” 

Fuuta could feel his chest release even more. Minato spoke so easily about the future, as if it were something real and waiting for him. 

“As if I’d let you touch any of my outfits.”

“As if you could stop me!”

He took another breath. He smiled. No drowning today.

---

After checking the clock fourteen times, Fuuta thought once more couldn’t hurt. It was still two minutes to noon, just like the last few times he’d checked. His frequent checking hadn’t brought the train to the station any faster.

Minato had told him that he was safe. He’d said this meeting wasn’t that big of a risk. The dust had settled. He just had to relax. 

The announcement overhead signaled the next stop was his. It screeched into the station, a slight murmur rising as the doors opened onto a platform of moving people. 

Fuuta lowered his head. His eyepatch would surely draw attention to himself, so he kept his hood down and his mask up. He just needed to make it to the station entrance. 

He made his way around stiff businessmen and sticky children. He tried to shuffle around a young man, but he seemed to step further into Fuuta’s path. Giving the stranger a quick glance, he started to mumble something to squeeze past. 

“Fuuta,” the man said, gaping in surprise. “It’s me.”

He inhaled sharply.

It was only three words, but it was enough to recognize his voice from a thousand conversations. 

Fuuta’s eye widened as he took Minato in. It was strange to finally see his face. Finally, here was the person he’d spent hours talking to. The person he’d spent days passing the time with. The person he’d spent nights falling for. Here was the one who had saved his life, in more ways than he could count.

His first observation was, fuck, this guy is way outta my league. His next was, he’s shorter than I was expecting. Then, gah, I’m probably shorter than he was expecting. He was in the middle of realizing, he has the nicest smile I think I’ve ever seen, when Minato crushed him in a hug.

Fuuta returned the embrace. His arms tightened around Minato. He was real. He was here. Fuuta’s hands grasped at his clothes and his hair. He was unable to control a laugh bubbling up inside of him. 

“You did it. My god, you did it.”

He breathed into Minato’s shoulder. His chest shook with some laughter, some tears. 

For a moment wondered if people would notice the heartfelt reunion outside of the train, then he realized he didn’t care in the slightest. 

Minato was laughing along with him in that beautiful, familiar voice of his. No more crackling speakers or hidden intercoms – he spoke right into his ear, hair tickling his cheek. Fuuta could have stayed forever in his arms, just like that. All that mattered was he felt safe. At last, he felt happy.

Talk about impossible. 

[k-itsmaywriting]

For Us And For Them

Fandom: Genshin Impact Relationships: Kamisato Ayaka/Lumine Tags: Canon Compliant, Post-Action Patch-Up, Late Night Conversations, in the bath after you just got beat up you know how it is Summary: In which Lumine shows up at Ayaka's door at midnight, wounded.

Written for the Starlit Snowflake zine ! which is now out and available for free download <3 highly recommend checking it out - everyone's work is amazing!!

----

Ayaka can’t sleep.

The Inazuma City summer matsuri is just days away, but there is still so much to do. Typhoons had suddenly raged throughout Narukami Island over the last week and majorly delayed their preparations and deliveries, and what had been finished were found in tatters.

She and the Yashiro Commission had been swift in placing new orders, rallying the right people, and gathering reserve supplies, of course. But to deliver anything less than fantastical would surely be disappointing the people’s expectations of their Princess.

No - she rolls over in her futon - the typhoons were not her fault. The clouds had rolled in during the night, and by morning the rain and winds were already thrashing upon the island. There was little they could do - little they could save. Berating herself will not turn back time.

But if she had done better, then maybe her brother wouldn’t have had to…

Read the rest on AO3

[tetzoro]

good morning friendz !! i hope everyone has a great monday and wonderful start to their week ^_^ !!

[harrylights]

Fucking Avocados Rating: T Word count: 2.6k

“Actually,” Harry begins, picking one of the avocados up and tossing it in the air briefly before it lands in the palm of his hand again. “If you season them right, like I’m about to do, they’re really quite lovely on some toast,” he explains.

“Toast?” Louis questions, the confusion making his face scrunch up even further, as he shoots an overly incredulous look at Harry, slowly eyeing him up and down. “Harry, did you take one of my edibles by accident this morning?”

“No, you’ve just been living under a rock for the last few years, apparently,” Harry chuckles, shaking his head at him before returning to his task, slicing one of the avocados in half. “They’re really good for you, and besides. You’re acting like I came up with the idea. Loads of people do this,” he tells him decidedly.

Louis’ disbelief only grows starker on his face. “You’re telling me other people eat this? Voluntarily?”

“Yeah. Look it up, you fucking geezer,” Harry says, clearly amused. *** Or, my personal headcanon as to why Louis Tomlinson "doesn't like" avocados.

Read on AO3

[dem0nguy]

I wrote a hurt/comfort fic around Sheriff :3 (bc my guy lost his brother and never really got consoled for that)

Anyways, enjoy! 

[nowandthane]

for poetry requests: fshali + home/homecoming

send me stuff to write poems about <3

fshali my beloved!! i was fully in bed and i got up just to write this because they give me so much brainrot

shamelessly sharing my other fshali stuff below <3

this post about earthborn shepard and tali that if you squint is basically a poem. i still think about this all the time. had to be careful not to write the exact same thing here cause... home.

this gmv (gay music video) i edited for them because. again. brainrot. god i love them so much kjdfhgs

After Death, a poem i wrote about shepard in me2. Not Tali specific, i kept it vague on purpose. And I had Sarani's polycule in mind, not just Tali but thinking of their stories, it fits Tali's relationship with Sarani the best.

[the-stove-is-divorced]

Op what’s your favorite scene you’ve ever written and why is it your favorite

OOO, this is a hard question! I usually have like 2-3 fics rattling around in my brain and everything else I forget exists for a hot min, and apparently I have (checks notes) a whopping 42 works,,, damn. So, uh, three come to mind! (。。 )ゝ

I think in terms of being descriptive and writing emotion/sensations, the beginning scene of my body's in backwards. Like, I really love how I wrote the kind of agony during the first chapter, as harsh as that sounds adjkskds, stuff like: "Mark feels like his entire body’s just completely crushed and squeezed like a nearly empty tube of toothpaste," feels is pretty solid imagery! It flows well, too! Plus, I reference writing I like to while writing, and that includes my own work sometimes, and this is one of 'em!

In terms of, like, technical ability like metaphor, even if it isn't particularly impressive on a quick glance, the cumulative of step-up in all the time in the world makes me feel proud? It's my first time really trying to go ham with metaphor, so when Bruce actively hugs Alfred on his own in chapter 4, it's like a payoff of like 3-4 chapter's worth of step up lmao. To make a long story short, young Bruce dealing with intense emotions with literal, physical distance (pos=high up, neg=lower, like basements), but by the end of that mini-arc is the one to close the distance between himself and Alfred through closing physical distance via hug he initiates, which is huge! I'm very proud of it.

In terms of emotion the ending bit of i've got no time to live (and i can't say goodbye) ! It was one of my fav pieces for a long while, not so much anymore (waves to above, much more proud above), but I'm still proud of it! The kind of rage and frustration still feels super palpable to me, like "Inky MK throws his true half to the ground, knowing the very conviction making them fight, is the same one his true half refuses to see through, and the same one that makes him want to scream to the heavens, drag them down with bloody claws and demands answers, real answers about his stupid, destructive and powerful, pitiful and terrifying, messed up, tragedy-in-the-making life."

It still feels intense, and therefore I wrote it right, haha! TYSM FOR ASKING!!! ⸜(*ˊᗜˋ*)⸝

[myfemininedivine]

An epilogue to TDP would be wonderful, honestly I highly doubt we will forget it, you wrote works of art and all this in the period of 1 year, you need to give yourself credit. Anyway, I hope the fexi magic falls upon you again through another couple and another fandom is lucky enough to have your wonderful stories. take care of yourself <3

A proper send off! I understand it was a beloved fic for some so it would be a send off to those who enjoyed it as well :) I remember a lot of the old fanfiction I came across as a child, so, it’s cute to think that some may remember it years later! Fanfic really is a time capsule !!!!!

Thank you sm for the kind words, really. I appreciate our time together, sharing the same fixation and all. ❤️