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the-bar-sinister · 9 months ago

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In Justice We Trust (149799 words) by thesavagesabretooth

catch up here

With Simon Blackquill and Athena Cykes assigned as their psychologists, the Phantom and Fulbright must grapple with their identity, their deeds, their future, and their love for the twisted samurai whom they betrayed.

All the while, Edgeworth and Wright find their relationship tested as they walk the narrow path between pursuing real justice, and the dark age of the law.

December 25, 6:25 pm

"You probably weren't expecting to see me again today," Robert said as he stepped back into the cell. “Not one bit…but I didn’t expect Agent Ash to walk in with some girl, gawk at me for five minutes and leave without saying a word either.” A wry smile crossed her face. “...it’s a day of surprises.”

"I have another one for you," he said, shrugging easily. "Consider it some information in return for the information you shared with us."

Bonsai souls. Bobby couldn't stop thinking about it in the background. People twisted up and pruned while they're raised until even their soul is small…

His wave of emotion hit Robert, who tried to shrug it off. Bonsai are very attractive, anyway.

24 attempted to lean forward and onto her hands, only for the short chain on her cuffs to stop her short before her hands could reach her chin. She dropped backwards again with a huff.

“An exchange for the information I gave? That’s…novel…Please…surprise away.”

"It's about a personal experience I've been having," he explained. "An unusual one. Over the past year, I started hearing voices. A voice, rather. And experienced impulses that I had difficulty controlling."

They watched her face carefully as they spoke.

24’s expression, to anyone else, would have seemed unchanging in its neutral mask…but Robert knew better than anyone how to spot it. Her pupils constricted, her shoulders squared minutely…a surprised downturn of her lips that was only barely aborted.

She was surprised to hear him say it out loud.

“That’s..odd.” she managed to murmur. “Voices and impulses inside your head would be troublesome to hear…and troublesome to the mission.”

"Extremely troublesome, in fact," he said. "Many if not all of these impulses were either completely pointless, or entirely counter to the mission. They became more difficult to ignore the longer they went on. They also seemed to develop their own identity."

Her fingers flexed in the air before they balled into fists, and her gaze broke off his and turned down towards the table. “So what’d you do to the voice? How’d you make it stop?”

He shook his head. "I was not able to do such a thing. Eventually, I stopped trying. Since my capture five days ago, I've been evaluated based on this experience by both a psychologist and a spirit medium."

“No wonder you’ve been so erratic.” 24 mused quietly. She still wouldn’t meet his eyes, and her fidgeting only got worse. It was a dangerous habit for a clandestine asset…but likely a pleasant quirk for a young agent of interpol. “A spirit medium? A psychologist I can understand…”

"There happened to be one on site, and it seemed prudent." He slid his hands performatively into his pockets. "The voice has, after all, repeatedly claimed to be the ghost of the last man I had killed."

You know, Robert. For a man who doesn't have strong emotions or enjoy a lot of things, you sure like putting on a show.

Robert almost smiled. It's what I know, Bobby.

“Hh… “ the quiet sigh of breath was slight, but present, as was the faint trace of a grimace on 24’s face. “Scary. Real ghost story stuff.” she murmured blandly “but ghosts are as real as true sympathy.” Her head tilted to the side “...though we did talk about that earlier, didn’t we?”

"We did indeed. These people believe many strange things." The edge of his lip quirked just barely upward. "It's the medium's professional opinion that my soul is too small, so it's the perfect space for a ghost to move in. What a funny thing to say, isn't it?" “Your soul is too small…so a spirit moved in. Like what–you were a mouse living alone in a huge apartment?” Her voice took on a trace more life for a moment, and there was almost a laugh before it smoothed into the same slight grimace as before. “Do we even have souls?”

Like a mouse living in a huge apartment. I like that metaphor, Robert.

Because it's as ridiculous as you were.

I think you're kind of enjoying it.

"It is the medium's professional opinion that we do. And I witnessed what I have to confess was a fairly convincing demonstration." “Well…if souls are real, I have little doubt ours are as small as she says.”She spread her fingers with a bland and empty smile. She paused a moment. “...the young lady. That was the medium? The one who screamed when the door was closing?”

"That's correct."

Oh no… did she hear all of us laughing, too?

No, Bobby, the cell is soundproofed.“She seemed nice,” 24 had started to say. “Sorry I…” The sentence stopped partway through and she shook her head subtly before speaking again.

“So why are you telling me about the size of our souls? You think the voice you’re hearing is Bobby Fulbright? Mr. ‘In Justice We Trust’, the hero of Justitia?” She laughed quietly “You did make a convincing performance while I was observing you from afar.”

He laced his fingers behind his back and smiled. "I'm convinced of it, yes. And I'm sure that's why I did such a good job on such a long assignment, which I was put on with the expectation that I would fail. My psychologist says that whether the voice is psychological or supernatural in origin, she thinks it's– healthy, for me." “Your psychologist– the pretty redhead, yeah?” ” she trailed off, and her eyes downcast again. “...we were both put on assignments we were never meant to succeed in, weren’t we? But the voice in your head carried you through. Is that why it’s healthy? Because it helped you survive?”

"Because he helped me survive," he agreed, "and because he helps me adapt and understand the real world, and the people in it. How they feel, and… how I feel, even."

Robert! I'm touched!!

Please don't cry right now, Bobby. Not in front of her…

He couldn't stop himself from tearing up at the corner of their eyes.

Her shoulders had started to shake.

“They way they feel is…concerning, 1—” she cut off the number and murmured “Mr. Halblicht.” The fidget of her fingers began again as she continued. “I’ve been hearing things too. It started small…”

He stepped near her, and knelt down beside her again. "But it's getting bigger?" 24 nodded, taking a deep breath. “Yes. It started with little things, like knowing a waitress’ name at the restaurant. Or the nagging…devotion and respect towards Agent Ash and her circle…a craving for fresh coffee.” She turned to look at him, watching him with her careful gray eyes. “things like that…the knowledge that Kelso would flirt on a crime scene, often with girls. I thought it was just good fortune and good guesswork, but it’s only getting bigger.” She shifted. “She wanted to cry earlier.”

Bobby rubbed their neck awkwardly as he surged to the front. "I'll bet she did. It's a tough situation for a person to be in… Uh. Hi. It's Bobby." 24 reacted like a life wire had sparked at her fingertips, and she turned her pinpricked eyes towards him before she swiftly relaxed.

“...” Her head bowed slightly. “...hello, Bobby.” she murmured. “enjoying the spacious apartment?”

He grinned awkwardly at her and wrung his hands together. "Well, you know, I've kind of made myself comfortable. Hung up some new curtains, put my feet up. I got unexpectedly kicked out of my last apartment, so… now I'm crashing with this guy!" She laughed, actually laughed–or perhaps Kelso did, considering the look of muted surprise that crossed her face. “Ahh…ahhahh..hahh..” she tried to raise a hand to wipe near her eyes, only to be stopped by the cuffs. “Wow. Sounds comfortable.” Her voice wavered strangely, unsure and thick with the confusion that seemed to break through her otherwise cold and composed affect.

"Well, you know. No roommate situation is perfect," he admitted with a chuckle. "But we've started getting along. He can do stuff I can't, I can do stuff he can't, you know?" 24 composed herself, murmuring quietly. “Mutually beneficial.” She tried to look at him again, not seeming to be aware of the start of tears in the corners of her eyes. “Sam Wan Kelso is an emotional woman…even if she plays it casual and amused. Even right now I can feel her trying to reach out… she’s scared that I’ll try and erase her.”

"You can reassure her that even if she left, she would still exist," Bobby said gently. "But I think if she wants to stay, that you should keep her. I think you'd be stronger together."

Carefully, he put his hand on hers–theirs. Her fingers twitched, but swiftly relaxed.

“Stronger together, huh?” A slight twitch flickered across her lips before she smiled Kelso’s lazy little grin “It’s a big apartment but it could use a little TLC, Bobby. I don’t think I…” Her voice evened out “...she…is keen on leaving. ‘It’s not like my body’s in any shape to return to’ she says. Besides...she’s angry at our handlers, too.”

He squeezed their hand very gently. "I bet. Me too. So let's bring them to justice together, alright? The four of us– and everyone else." “The four of us…” 24 murmured quietly, before she nodded and turned her hand as much as she could to squeeze back “alright, sir. I’m…interested…in what we can do. You’ll have Sam Wan and my help…on a single condition.”

"Name it." 24 scoffed softly “...she’s been whining for a cup of ‘good black coffee’ for hours”

Bobby grinned and snapped into a peppy salute. "One good black coffee, coming up!"

December 25, 6:40 pm

Halblicht and Simon had remained at the precinct to discuss the case for longer with interpol, while Athena, Apollo, and Pearl had gone back to the hotel.

The car ride was quiet, with Pearl sleepy, and Apollo and Clay's emotions finally calmed to something less than a raging tumult. The anger had finally settled to a low, keening anxiety.

Athena took to looking out the window when the light conversation turned into a complete lull, reflecting back over the day so far…from the startling conversations, the confirmation of ghosts and multiple possessions, to the long and heartfelt conversation with her mother. Her own emotions weighed heavily on her in a way she couldn’t really comprehend. So she sat with them, reliving the moment her mother told her she was proud of the woman she became in her mind as she turned over the many twists her life had taken until this point… Apollo was on a timeline. They had a dead Interpol agent in custody sharing a body and mind with her killer. Her mother was ‘asleep’ in death and not ready to move on to heaven or a new life… And Simon and Halblicht had repaired their relationship. Things had changed so much, yet in some ways they seemed to be returning to normal. At least there was that. A merry Christmas could be had…maybe she’d buy herself a slice of cake.

When they got back to the hotel, Athena’s first order of business was taking Pearl to her room to rest. Apollo had followed along with them.

"Thanks, Miss Athena," Pearl said as they stood at the door. She flashed a bright, if tired smile, to all of them. Athena could tell that she was honestly happy, even with how wrung out she was. "And you too Mr. Apollo. And company. I'm gonna call up some room service and call it a night." “That sounds like a pretty relaxing Christmas to me!” Athena chuckled gently with a bright smile. “Rest up okay? And thanks for all your help, you did great!”

"Thanks!" she giggled and saluted. "You guys have a great rest of Christmas too, okay?"

Apollo gave a slow thumbs up. "Will do, kid. Hey– do me a favor and tell Trucy I'd like to talk to her. If not tonight, tomorrow."

"Promise!"

There was a little round of hugs and thank yous again, and Pearl slipped into her hotel room. Athena put her hands on her hips.

“Alright. That’s that…which means I need to figure out how we’re gonna spend the rest of the night.” She tilted her head to the side “...my usual Christmas tradition’s kinda shot, but I’m sure we’ll find something.”

"If you're looking for an offer, we could grab some dinner," Apollo– or could it be Clay?-- offered. Athena had a lot more trouble distinguishing the two of them than she did Bobby and Robert, despite the fact that she had known Apollo at least for much longer. "Unless you were planning on waiting until Prosecutor Blackquill gets back." “...I mean, I was hoping to talk with him tonight, yeah..” She started brushing her fingers through her ponytail, and chuckled. “But he’s probably gonna be busy for a while between the Interpol business and other matters…and I don’t think Ema would be pleased if she walked in on me eating a cake by myself and watching old sci-fi movies and historical dramas…given that she probably just wants to collapse for the night.” She smiled “..honestly I’d love some dinner?”

"Let's get some dinner, then, Athena." He slapped her companionably on the shoulder. "Even if I have more on my mind than when we usually do. Twice as much, even."

The attempt at humor was genuine, but it only barely masked his internal confusion. Athena laughed.

“I think you’ve been hanging around the Blackquills and my mother too much, guys…you’ve already picked up the sense of humor.” She stuck her tongue out “hopefully it doesn’t make ordering extra annoying, huh?”

"As if you get to pick on me for hanging out too much with a Blackquill," he teased back.

“I do, because …” She thought for a minute before she grinned. “because I can.”

"Anyway…" He huffed a laugh and waved for her to follow him down the hall as he started working. "I wouldn't worry about the food thing, honestly. It never even occurred to me…" She followed alongside him with a curious tilt of her head. “Really? I think having two people in there would make choosing a meal…you know…complicated.”

"Apollo and I mostly like the same foods," he answered. "His tastes are maybe a little broader than mine because of all the time he spent in uh–"

Clay seemed to suddenly realize that he was the one doing the talking, and trailed off as Athena felt his embarrassment spike.

Athena tilted her head to the side. “Hmm? Hey Clay.” She stretched, arching her back as she walked down the hall, “don’t worry…don’t get too embarrassed, okay?”

He glanced over at her with an apologetic smile. "It's hard not to. I'm not supposed to be here, you know? Talking out of Apollo's mouth– admitting that I'm here– it feels like breaking a taboo." Athena nodded.

“I kinda get that. It feels…I dunno, invasive? LIke you’re telling a secret that you weren’t supposed to?” She rubbed her neck “but I think it’s fine you’re here. Good , even…and I’m gonna treat you like anyone else, sharing a body or no, okay? Just uh…if I don’t notice right away, forgive me. It’s much easier with Robert and Bobby. They’re a little obvious.”

"That makes sense," he nodded. She could feel a spike of anger at the mention of Robert, but it was small, and confused with other feelings. "It's kind of nice in a way. Confirmation on something we always knew– how alike we are."

They made their way down toward the dining room, and even though there were few people around, his voice dropped even lower. “You two really are close, aren’t you?” Athena asked with a smile. “I used to always see you around the Cosmos center with one another…It’s nice to know you stayed close…stayed similar like that.”

They chuckled softly. "Yeah, we stayed very close. We were a big part of each other's lives ever since we met."

In the restaurant, they waved Athena to a table far in the corner. Athena followed eagerly…she wasn’t exactly looking to be the center of the restaurant’s attention, so the corner table suited her fine. “Which was back in jr. High School, right?”

"Yeah. We were maybe 12, you know? So it's been most of our lives." They settled down uncomfortably in the chair across from her. It would have been clear to Athena how anxious they were even without her special talents. “Most of your lives is right.” Athena smiled at them, leaning on her hand. “...it’s good that you’ve got a friend like that. The both of you…me and Junie were like that once before I ah, vanished.” She brushed her hair over her ear “Hey, Clay. Like I said to Apollo, if you ever have anything on your mind, you can talk about it with me, no judgment.”

He leaned on his hands and shrugged. "I appreciate that. I mean, we've still got each other, in a way, but… it's different. The way it's different hurts, you know?" “Because you can’t be there physically for one another anymore? You were close, but now you’re…well. Close in a different way?”

"We are," he nodded. "It's funny, it's already sometimes hard to tell where one of us ends and the other one begins, until we happen on one of those little points of difference that makes it obvious. We've been thinking… talking about that, since hearing…. the news."

“About how you’re going to grow…together?” Athena asked, “if you don’t leave?”

They nodded. "Yeah. That. Kind of a heavy thing, huh?" “Incredibly heavy.” Athena agreed as she brushed her fingers through her hair with a concerned hum. “Especially with it being on an unsure timetable with a pretty permanent deadline.”

"Yeah," he breathed. She watched him lay his hands flat on the table. His fingers were trembling. "Knowing that it's real… that ghosts… that souls exist… it helps. It seems like we could… move on. I could get reincarnated or whatever. Maybe have another shot at going to space. But… we'd probably never see each other again."

Their voice was thick, the sorrow in it heavy and obvious, pulsating in and out with anxiety. Athena listened quietly, before she reached out and placed her hand atop his. “And that gives you both anxiety…hurts you both to think about, right?” She smiled weakly at him. “It's both a comfort and a pain at the same time. Ghosts are real…you’re real, but the idea of moving on and missing one another is hard to face, yeah?”

Clay nodded, running his fingers nervously through their hair. "It's scary. It hurts. If I left, right now, and came back– he'd be 24 years older than me. If he recognized me. If I recognized him. If his life still had room for me. If we hadn't both changed beyond–"

Tears had beaded up in their eyes and spilled over across their cheeks. Clay stopped talking abruptly, and Athena watched them put their arms around themselves tightly again.

"Hey, hey hey, no–" when they spoke again Athena knew it was Apollo. "Of course we'd know each other…" Athena bit her lip, her hands folding together on the tabletop. She’d reached out to try putting a comforting hand on their shoulder, but when they moved to hug themselves, it faltered and rested on the tabletop instead. “You two really do love one another,don’t you?” she asked in a quiet voice.

"Guess the secret's out," Apollo murmured. He sniffled and wiped their eyes, grabbing a napkin to mop up the tears. "Sorry, Athena. We're a mess." Athena’s eyes were welling up with sympathetic tears “it’s okay..I mean…it..it’s been a hell of a week Apollo. Sorry…I, I could tell whenever you talked about him. I just didn’t want to say…”

"Yeah." He took a shuddering breath and tried to still their tears. He gave her a wan smile, his sadness tinged with embarrassment. "Probably wasn't as subtle as I should have been the last week or so. Did a good job keeping it out of the office though, I guess. Trucy was shocked when I told her." “I think you did a pretty good job, even if it’s sad you felt you had to..” Athena gave him a sympathetic grin. “I could only tell because I could hear the emotions in your voice…it’s no wonder Trucy was taken by surprise.”

"Yeah," he nodded again. "Can't hide anything from you, huh, Athena? Thanks for being understanding." “It’s my blessing and my curse.” she chuckled quietly before she shook her head. “...I get it. I understand it…love is complicated, especially when souls, the living and the dead are entwined…it’s only natural to feel difficult emotions at this time..” ”

"I don't know what we're gonna do, Athena. The idea of letting go is so hard. But Clay keeps worrying about 'ruining' me, or 'taking over my life'. " “Are you worried he’ll ‘ruin you’ or take over your life?” Athena asked as she leaned on her hands. “Either way…you have time. A year, at least, to try and sort through your feelings on it. You can take a little time to process this.”

"I'm not worried about it at all," he said. His voice was shaking and he dabbed at his eyes with the wet napkin again. "I know you probably don't have a lot of experience with love yet, Athena, but sometimes when you're together, there's a moment when you're close– laying in bed, or watching the stars, or just holding each other– and it feels like there's absolutely nothing separating the two of you at all. I think… maybe it would be like that. Forever."

He twisted the abused napkin back and forth in his fingers as he spoke. Tears rolled down Athena’s face as she stifled a soft hiccup…both the backwash of Apollo’s emotions, and the description tugging at the strange beat of her heart. It was beautiful, it was heartbreaking how much they loved one another. It was true, she didn’t have much experience with love…not direct experience, not yet…but she could understand the sentiment as it pounded in her chest. “Beautiful.” She whispered “that’s…that’s beautiful, Apollo…m-maybe it would be.”

He bobbed his head bashfully and gave her a teary smile. "Thanks, Athena. A-anyway, you're right. No matter what happens, we have time. It's not something that's going to happen or not right now." “Exactly.” She sniffed again, and wiped at her eyes. “For now…just try to relax knowing you’ve got one another in there..and…and take it one step at a time. I’m gonna support you with everything I’ve got…”

"It means a lot." He reached across the table for her hand this time. "I feel like we… sure learned a lot in the last couple of hours." She took his hand and gave it a firm squeeze “We did, a whole heck of a lot, really…ghosts, my mother, Kelso, you and Clay…we actually met Miss Mia, the legend of the office…”

"We sure did," he said, squeezing her hand back in turn. "I feel like I can see the impact she had on the boss, just from those few minutes. But…" “But…?” Athena tilted her head to the side.

He shook his head, hand still entwined with hers. He murmured quietly. "What she said about them– the spies, the 'assets'-- that was…. pretty fucked up." Athena nodded slowly.

“Y-yeah.” she bit her lip “I’ll be honest that’s basically what I was getting too…what was done to them, it was done to make them as little of a person someone could be before they simply perished. It’s…it’s no surprise it makes them perfect hosts for sharing space with a spirit.” Her voice cracked softly, hushed and low so nobody could hear but them. “They’re tragic…genuine victims in all this…I got the sense when I talked to Robert for the first time…and then later saw that interview with 24…”

"We're still angry," they said. "I don't know if we're ever not going to be but– the idea that they literally had their souls broken by what they went through? I don't– I can't even comprehend it. You can tell the Ph– you can tell Halblicht that he doesn't have to worry about us coming after her again or anything. Especially since he's got the real Fulbright in there breathing down his neck." “I’ll tell him..” Athena squeezed his hand as more tears began to drop down her already tear-streaked face. Her breath shuddered. “I can’t blame you for being angry, he took a lot from you but.. It was bad enough when I thought it was just his mind that was broken…but these people are pruning and shattering souls to …to make weapons they can point and shoot. There’s no justice in that…no possible excuse they could make to justify it. It’s…it’s inhuman.” She sniffed “...I like Robert, Apollo. I’m sorry, but he…I want to see him become a person in his own right, and for Bobby to help him find balance.”

Their hand trembled against hers, but they squeezed her hand again.

"I can't say I get it, Athena, but, I guess that's good. Maybe it'll help make sure no one else suffers the way we did because of him. And hopefully we can get to the top of the chain, and shut the whole thing down." Athena nodded.

“With his help, and…and Miss Kelso, or 24’s help? I think we can manage…we have to.” She smiled nervously at him as her fingers gave his hand a tight squeeze. “He won’t hurt anyone else…and neither will that horrible organization by the time we’re done with them.”

"Good. That's all we can ask. And you'll have our help to do it."

She smiled at them. “Thanks guys. I care about you a lot. So…let’s help one another till the bitter end.” She snapped a salute. “Nobody's a match for us!”

December 25, 7:15 pm

When they were done at the precinct, to Halblict's surprise, Simon had declined a ride back to the hotel from Agent Badd and called a taxi himself instead.

"I'm hungry," he growled. "And I'd prefer to avoid the hotel restaurant tonight. Besides…"

Simon gave them an appraising look, with a sly smile on his face.

Robert had no idea what he might be thinking. "Besides?"

"We've never been on a proper date– have we? And no– the aquarium doesn't quite count."

The sudden rush of joy and excitement from Bobby practically knocked Robert over in their shared mental space as he rushed forward.

"A date, Simon?" Bobby grinned, leaning shoulder to shoulder with him with stars in his eyes as they walked out of the precinct.. "You don't think… that'll be a problem?"

Simon leaned against the exterior of the building just outside the reach of the streetlamps as he waited for their taxi to arrive, and Bobby went to lean beside him, cocking his head curiously.

"I don't see why it would be?" Simon shrugged. "We don't have any pressing reason to get back to the hotel immediately."

Bobby shifted uncomfortably. "Ah, I more meant…"

I can't believe you're still uncomfortable with this, Bobby.

I know it doesn't make a difference to you, Robert, but I was raised to believe it wasn't done, you know? It's looked down on for a man and another man to be… seen being intimate.

And I was trained to understand that homosexual desire was a significant, if taboo reality, and how to use that behavior to my advantage. Do you believe that either of the things we were taught are correct?

Well…I mean…

"Meant what, Fool Bright?" Simon snapped, and for a second Bobby thought that he had somehow overheard his internal conversation, before he remembered where he'd trailed off.

He flushed and rubbed the back of his neck. "You wouldn't be embarrassed to be seen out with me, sir? Given that we're both men?"

Simon scoffed loudly, and Taka made a startled noise on his arm. "Bobby, you being a man isn't even in the top three reasons to be embarrassed to be seen out with you."

Bobby flushed even brighter. "Sir…"

He's got you there, doesn't he?

Simon leaned over, shoulder to shoulder with the two of them. "I'm joking, detective. Obviously I'm not embarrassed to be around you. Do I strike you as a man who has any shame whatsoever?"

Bobby laughed softly. "I don't know how to answer that, sir," he said, nervously wringing his hands together.

"The answer is that I am not, detective. I don't give a damn what speculation or assumptions people make about me, right or wrong. What matters to me is who I am, not how people perceive me. But if the two of you would prefer not to be perceived, I suppose I can accommodate you."

Bobby could tell that Simon wasn't pleased with the idea, and while he was feeling ashamed of it, Robert rushed past him.

"No." Robert's voice was thick with firm insistence that Bobby rarely felt from him, and he put his arm around Simon.

Simon raised his eyebrow, his lips drawn. "Robert?" he hesitated.

He nodded. "Yes, it's me. Bobby was raised with a lot of shame around homosexual relationships. I have no such compunction, as you might expect. So I'm not interested in changing your preferred behavior."

Simon leaned back against him, but frowned. "I'd rather not make Bobby uncomfortable, either."

"I'm not uncomfortable, per se," Bobby murmured. His fingers ran up and down Simon's arm as he fidgeted. "I just don't have any experience with openly dating."

It's not as if I have any experience with it either, Bobby.

"Well, it's easy enough to ask your preference then," Simon huffed. "Would you like to have experience openly dating, or would you prefer to preserve your reputation?"

He flushed hotly. "It's not as if I really have one to preserve anyway. It's not like my parents are going to find out or something. So… if you don't mind being open with me, sir, then that's what I'd like to do."

"Good!" Simon grinned and leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Let's have a scandal, then."

He seems excited about it, doesn't he, Bobby?

I think he thinks it's romantic…

Is it?

Bobby smiled, and agreed out loud. "It is pretty romantic."

"I'm thrilled that you agree."

#apollo justice #athena cykes #bobby fulbright #simon blackquill #ema skye #trucy wright #blackbright #phantomquill #ace attorney #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #archive of our own #ao3 #fic: in justice we trust

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dreamingsushi · 1 year ago

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The Longest Promise - Episode 3

So like I said last episode, I’m not too sure about this drama. So far the story is alright. Xiao Zhan’s great, but we don’t know much of his character yet. Ren Min... her character annoys me. And we haven’t really started yet. So I fear it might be a painful watch. But here, we go through everything, even though it’s painful. I mean, I hated Eternal Love of dream and I went through the 56 episodes. This one has 16 less. I should survive, no?

So last time, Shi Ying was using magic after Chongming told him to kill Zhu Yan. But it wasn’t aimed at her, it was at some dark figures in the back. Probably sponsored by creepy masked person in a black cape. Shi Ying fights against them while Chongming goes to get Da Siming. Zhu Yan is quite useless. She tries to use her fire to stop one of the people, but she ends up burning to ashes Xueying’s dress. Why would you even put it on in the first place? When Da siming and company arrives, the intruders run away. Shi Ying hides away Zhu Yan, since she didn’t leave. He hides the fact that he met with a girl to his master. Turns out the black cloak people are from the Ice clan. They don’t know how they could ever come in there. Wherever it is that Zhu Yan is hidden, she finds a Shi Ying and she keeps touching him, which affects the one outside. Miss, do you know anything about consent? And she wonders why... this man’s eyelashes are so similar to the ones of the prince she met years ago... That’s weird. There aren’t that many types of eyelashes. Definitely not on my list to try and recognize someone.

He gets her out of this hiding place and doesn’t really answer any of her questions. Then he erases her memories of their encounter and takes her back to her room. Chongming is really mad at him for not taking care of her, since he will die to her hand. Shi Ying has no intention of killing her. Chongming goes to check if she could be the one killing him. But she isn’t, according to her birthdate.

Xuelu gets into Diwang cave too. Chongming passes her out. Shi Ying notices she must be his cousin. So he asks her about his mom. She tells him she has no news, but she heard that she’s been mistreated. He erases her memories and sends her away while he goes to Da Siming, because he can’t let his mom live such a life. But then, he learns that in fear that he would put himself in danger to rescue her, Shi Ying’s mom ended her life. So he goes crazy and I’m so... undecided about this scene. I could totally feel Shi Ying’s pain, but at the same time... having him turn around while yelling and unleashing power... it seemed ridiculous. To me, this is like... a good actor’s skills being wasted by bad direction. Anyways, Da Siming says they need to take revenge for his mom. That guy... seriously. When she entrusted Shi Ying to him, she told him not to get revenge and to protect the world. At least respect her wishes when she sacrificed everything for the one goal of protecting her son.

Anyways, Da Siming doesn’t like he’s a good guy to me. He must have his own agenda. Anyways. He makes sure that Shi Ying sees how bad everyone talks of his mother after her passing. So Shi Ying decides he wants to avenge her, because the world doesn’t deserve her kindness since it’s filled with bad people. Rough summary. In anger, he sends Chongming away and even has all dark fume around him. They broke him.

And that’s it for now. We’re still settling in the plot. I don’t really understand the motives of half of the characters. The female lead isn’t very deep. Hopefully it gets better. We’re not impressed so far.

#the longest promise #xiao zhan #ren min #wuxia #costume drama #cdrama #c-drama #chinese drama #drama review #drama recap #drama reaction

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stunted-boars · 25 days ago

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Tumblr deletes content under a cut when someone deletes, shoutout to the wayback machine! Doing this on my phone this time, as per usual if i-am-the-altman is out there somewhere and wants this taken down my inbox is open!

Edit: ok so on my end this post is completely out of order, I tried editing the post to no avail. Will take another look at this in the morning/on my PC-_-

ThAshe Fluff that took way longer to write then I thought it would

Transcription under the cut! Lmk if anyone catches any mistakes, it is not easy doing this on a phone

Some SFW ThAshe fluff that @wolfcat-hybrid kind of requested. I hope it was worth the wait! It probably isn’t

Spoilers for like every arc of TI.

Ashe was exhausted. There was no other way to put it. The ache of bone deep weariness had become all too familiar during her time in the Ban village… From learning the language with Iggy, to the occasional sparing session with Horaven (and sometimes the Bat-masked Ban), her personal time had been severely neglected.

It didn’t help that the only bar in town was somehow staffed by Old Inny. She had little inclination to put up with Old Inny’s senility for alcohol.

With the sun beginning to kiss the horizon, Ashe let out a sigh. Where am I going to get a drink in this place?

As if to answer her question, a commotion outside of a house caught her attention. I wonder what’s going on…

As Ashe drew closer to a crowd of Ban that was growing by the second, the indistinct noise grew clearer, and she recognised Thog’s raised voice. Gods know, I’ve heard it often enough.

“I can’t deal with you when you’re like this!” A pause, and then, “Oh yeah, real mature.” Again, silence. “You know what, fuck you too!” Parting aside the crowd, Thog stalked forward, and Ashe caught a flash of pure Menace. I guess that solves the question of who he was arguing with. She stepped forward, and raised a hand, “Hey, Thog. Rough day?”

“Ashe, you don’t know the half of it. That bat-masked jerk has been pissed at me about something all day, and won’t tell me what the fuck I did…” His shoulders slumped as he fell into step beside Ashe.

“Sounds like you need a drink.” Ashe said, gently elbowing him in the side.

“I need several…” They lapsed into a companionable silence that suited the quiet village and their footsteps lead them Thog’s door. “Speaking of drinks, Ashe, I… uh, liberated a nice vintage from Old Inny and I was wondering if you’d like to… share it with me…” Thog looked at the ground and fidgeted nervously.

“That’s really nice of you, Thog, but you’d just be wasting your ‘vintage’… I can’t get drunk, remember?”

“Ashe, there’s more to drinking than just ‘getting drunk’. Sometimes, it’s about sharing a moment with friends, or remembering those we’ve lost.”

“OK, Thog, but I’m warning you, if you do anything embarrassing, I will remember.”

Entering Thog’s temporary dwelling, Ashe was struck by a bolt of nostalgia. “Hey, Thog, do you remember the last time we got drinks together? Back at Meadshire?”

“Ashe, that period of my life was a constant haze of regret and booze. You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

Getting comfortable on the low sofa (It was nice, and fit the room very well. Whichever Ban Thog had kicked out of here clearly had good taste) Ashe spoke again, “Well, it was shortly after the disappearances started, but before things got too bad. The tavern had closed up early, and we scrounged up a barrel that wasn’t all paint thinner. It actually looked like ale. Or at least, the idea of ale.”

“Oh, fuck, I completely forgot about that!” Thog stopped rummaging through a drawer, and turned around, a bottle in his hand, “We were shit-talking everything in Meadshire!”

“Haha, yeah!” Ashe’s face brightened at the memory. It was one of her only non-depressing ones from her time there.

“Huh. Interesting…” Thog was peering quizzically at Ashe, one eye brow raised slightly.

“What is it? Do I have something on my face?” Frantically scrubbing at her cheeks, Ashe could feel herself beginning to blush. It’s not my fault Xin is always in the hot springs!

“What? Nah, it’s just… That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile in a while. Not to mention how long it’s been since you’ve laughed like that.”

Thinking about it, Ashe realised she had been pretty serious lately. I guess I’ve been so busy trying to figure out what I am, I forgot to be myself… “Well, thanks for pointing that one out Thog. I’ll keep that in mind…”

“It wasn’t a rebuke, Ashe. Unlike some of our friends-” With a cough that sounded suspiciously the name “Inien”, Thog set the bottle and two small glasses on the table “-I can observe without criticising. Besides, you aren’t someone who needs to smile to…” Thog’s voice abruptly cut off.

“Needs to smile to what, Thog?” Ashe crossed her arms, her brow creasing.

“Ugh, I’ll tell you later, can we just start drinking already?” Thog said, as he poured two glasses. Picking them up, he offered one to Ashe.

“Fine, but I consider that a promise. I expect an explanation.”

“And you’ll get one. Don’t sweat it.” Raising his glass, he proclaimed “To absent friends, I guess.” The alcohol swiftly disappeared down his throat.

“To absent friends.” Ashe echoed, following suit. “Woah, that’s some strong stuff! I think I almost felt something.”

4 drinks…

“Well, I don’t know how Markus keeps his hair so shiny.” Ashe accompanied her statement with a burst of laughter. “I’ve asked, but he just throws a hand-full of glitter into the air and walks away.”

“Is that so… No wonder the bar floor’s always covered with the stuff. I’ll have to have a talk with him sometime…” Thog frowned slightly, “But that’s a worry for later. Pour me another drink, would you?”

7 drinks…

“… and that, Asheling, is why cutlery is so important in Alarani culture.” Thog was not inebriated enough to start slurring his words, but it was a close thing. His shoulders had begun to slump, and his hand shook slightly as he refilled their glasses.

“Interesting. Is that why the bar doesn’t have any?”

“Shut up and drink.”

11 drinks…

“So there I was, elbow deep in a vat of magic potion, Gregor bleeding out on a table-’ Ashe gestured wildly as she recounted the tale of their time under contract in Altreia “-and for all I knew, Markus was being torn to shreds by rabid golems outside.”

“Well, I’m… sorry you had to go through that…” The drinks were clearly catching up to Thog, as he chose his words extremely carefully. “I wish I had done more…”

“Thog, you were responsible for securing us our freedom. You’ve more than made up for it.”

“I guess, but I still feel bad…”

“Would another drink help?”

16 drinks…

The bottle fell to the table, empty. Thog was really out of it, reclining on the couch right next to Ashe. She knew she wasn’t drunk, but Thog’s exhaustion was contagious… I don’t even want to get up. Though she had to admit, there was something comforting about his firmiliar presence beside her. Leaning her head onto his shoulder, she felt herself beginning to drift off to sleep. Right before she slipped away completely, Ashe heard a voice, quiet and far away.

“You aren’t someone who needs to smile to be beautiful, Asheling.” She felt an arm wrap around her shoulder and pull her close. “I hope you know that.”

“Thank you, Thog. For everything.” Ashe mumbled, returning his hug, as she felt her consciousness slip away.

Originally posted August 6th 2016 #Thrilling Intent #I wrote a thing #ThAshe #Alcohol use #Sorry it took so long!

ThAshe Fluff that took way longer to write then I thought it would

Some SFW ThAshe fluff that @wolfcat-hybrid kind of requested. I hope it was worth the wait! It probably isn’t

Spoilers for like every arc of TI.

Keep reading

#fanfic #fixed!#to be clear by 'spoilers for every arc' that meant like. up to liquor and spirits at this point #also ''I hope it was worth the wait! It probably isn’t''#ARE YOU INSANE??? i RANDOMLY said i wish i had more thashe and you hit me with a fuckin FANFIC #it never occured to me that someone would actually like. respond to my post about wanting thashe by MAKING ME SOME HANDCRAFTED THASHE #i still FONDLY REMEMBER YOU DOING THIS #edit: well okay the version i saw of this post on my blog was completely out of order #dont know if it just looked like that on my end and was actually fine or if i somehow completely fucked that up beyond compare #either way. redid it so hopefully it looks ok?

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salsdemise · 4 years ago

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Can I request a Sally face x reader fic? Possibly a confession and first kiss an da party or something like that, thank you!

Hey anon, sorry if this is bad, I'm assuming you meant sal, and if not just lmk and I'll re-write this for another character if you want.

Warnings: Underage drinking, underaged smoking, parties, y/n used in place of your name, really awkward with the confession part? idk how to write those

word count: 1479

other: gender neutral terms used, sal's speech is in blue bc sometimes its unclear whos talking bc i didn't know what to put between the words spoken lol playlist listened to while writing: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5SMv6Go27KIcbfL07wkQ4m

This party wasn’t where you wanted to be right now. Hell, you’d rather be at school, getting pushed around by the kids in the hall right now. Anywhere was better than this loud, flashy,party filled with the smell of cigs, weed, alcohol and sex wafting off of every teen you passed.

Why you had come to this party in the first place had slipped your mind, as now you were more focused on not getting backed into a corner with a potted plant by a group of your peers. Maybe it was because your friend Larry wouldn’t shut up about how fun it was going to be, maybe it was because you would have felt bad saying no, or maybe it was because you certainly weren’t going to pass up on an opportunity to potentially hang out with Sal Fisher, your long time crush and close friend.

Holding your now empty red cup, you navigated your way through the crowd of drunken and dancing teens, most who were nice and giggly as you passed, slurring apologies at you if they bumped you.

While you weren’t all sober yourself, you had enough remaining cognitive ability to form full thoughts, and the only one on your mind was finding one of two people; Sal or Larry. You had no doubt Larry was off smoking with gods know who, so that left one option, and if your brain wasn’t mistaking you, you had seen the electric-bluenette near the door to the backyard in the kitchen not too long ago. So that’s where you set your sights.

When you arrived at the kitchen, you were happy to know that you were indeed correct on where you had last seen Sal, just outside on the patio, sitting hunched over a cup, the bottom straps of his prosthetic undone and dangling. Murmuring a few ‘excuse me’s at the teens you passed on the way, you made your way out to the back, opening and exiting the door and catching the bluenette’s attention. Seating yourself next to him, you said nothing, not sure of what to say.

“Didn’t think you’d actually show. Lar said you were coming, but I thought he was bluffing again,” Sal spoke, sipping on his drink.

You laughed at this, “yea, no, he actually convinced me to come. Not sure how, but he did. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d see you here either. You always talk about how much you hate parties, especially ones that have inebriating drinks,” you set your cup down next to you, and a small breeze knocked it over as soon as your hand left it.

“I don’t, hate em. Managed to get someone to get me something non-alcoholic, though. What have you had to drink?” He motioned to your, now rolling, red cup to emphasize.

“Oh, nothing too strong. They had a punch bowl in there so I took some of that,” thinking back to it as you spoke, it was odd the hosts of this party put a punch bowl out at a party with no need for it. However, you and Sal both seemingly shrugged it off and continued talking.

Conversation between the two of you had always come so naturally, switching between topics and tones, talking about people, your home state, his home state, and the likes.

“Man, I cannot believe he did that! It was like, super awkward between us for a week,“ you laughed, finishing a story about how Larry had tried to ask you out when high. Luckily the guy wasn’t too upset and took no for an answer.

“Hey, y/n, about asking people out...have you ever done it?” Sal questioned, messing with his sweater sleeves now that his drink was gone and his cup had also flown off.

“Oh, uh, not like, here at Nockfell, but in the past I asked a guy in my grade to go to a valentine’s day dance with me. Why?” you responded, tilting your head at him.

“I want to ask this person out, but I’m not sure how.”

“Oh. Well, what do they like? How long have you known them? And how close are you two? You can’t just ask out a random person you barely know, it won’t go well.”

“Well, they like a lot so it’s...kinda hard to put into words. I’ve known them for years now, and I’d like to say we’re pretty close.”

Thinking, you went quiet. As much as it hurt you to know your crush liked someone else, you were going to help him as best you could.

“Well, I’d give them a note, personally. I’d probably piss myself if I tried to tell them upfront. But it depends on how you wanna do it.”

Sal quietly thinks for a few seconds before standing up and fixing his mask, “Thanks for your help dude. We should get going, I’ll go find Larry and we can get out of here.”

You nod, standing and following Sal back into the house, heading for the front door while Sal went off to find Larry. With your mutual friend acquired, you all left for home, depositing Larry at his place and heading to your own beds, tired now that the social buzz had worn off.

Over the next week, you and Sal talked less and less, notes popped up in your locker, and small things like patches, stickers, pins and snacks appeared with them. You were confused to say the least. You loved everything this admirer gave you, and the notes were adorable, even if they were typed and printed rather than hand written, but you wondered why Sal had stopped talking to you as often as he did.

As the weeks progressed, you had started to like the secret admirer that was leaving you small gifts and notes reminding you how much they liked you. But the most recent note, which you had gotten on a sunny and warm Wednesday, really caught your attention. This time, it was handwritten in blue pen ink, the handwriting surprisingly neat, completely eliminating who you thought it was.

The note read: “y/n, meet me in the courtyard during lunch/break time. -<3”, and not wanting to disappoint, you waited with an uneasy shake until lunch came around where you went straight to the courtyard. Seeing no one, you sat on the ground by a tree to wait until your secret admirer got there.

10 minutes later, the heavy doors opened and closed with a thud, catching your attention and causing you to look up where you saw Sal, mask in hands, and looking down.

“Sal? Are you the one that wanted to meet me here?” You were..puzzled to say the least. Sal had hardly talked to you in weeks, and you thought he liked someone else like Ash, but it seems you were mistaken.

“Uh, yea, I am. I know you’re..probably upset at me for not talking to you in the past few weeks, but I didn’t want to say something stupid too soon. I hope you’re not too mad..”

“Sal, I’m not mad. I thought you were busy trying to get your mystery person to like you..and I guess I was right, but I didn’t think it’d be me..”

“Who else would it have been? You and I are as close as Larry and I are, we like the same things and I’ve known you since you got here. Hell, I’ve been pining over you for years now, but last year when Lar told me he was gonna try and shoot his shot, I tried to get myself to like Ash so I wouldn’t feel like shit if you said yes.”

“Oh, Sal. I thought it was Ash, you talk so much about her sometimes, I thought you actually liked her.”

“Oh, no, I don’t. She helped me with this, actually. Which reminds me, if its not obvious already, I really fucking like you. Like, you make me feel happy and just thinking about you makes me feel like I’m on cloud nine.”

Smiling at his words you stood to go over to him, putting your hands on his shoulders so he would look up at you, “I like you too, Sal. Like, a lot. I have for a while, and when you asked how to ask someone out,I..it hurt a little bit.”

Saying nothing at your words, Sal moved forward and wrapped you in a hug, his mask landing in the grass behind you two. Before you could return the hug, Sal backed up and his hands grabbed your face pulling you in for a kiss. Giving you time to react this time, you kissed back, your hands placing themselves over his.

Now, sitting at a college party with your boyfriend, you think to yourself, ‘Maybe parties aren’t so bad after all.’

#sally face #sal fisher #sally face x reader #sally face game #sal fisher x y/n #gn!reader

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starlightrows · 3 years ago

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3 — The Pariah

The Queen of Tatooine Masterlist

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Pairing: Boba Fett x reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Non graphic violence, fire, hypothermia

Summary: Tempers rage in your small town, you are blamed for the less than savory change in patronage

Eventually the storm blew itself out, and your steady flow of patrons returned to eat, drink, stay the night, and move on. As autumn turned to winter, the storms and rain became more frequent, and began getting colder. Frost settled over the ground each night and melted by mid day.

A few weeks after Boba Fett had left your inn, on a chilly morning, you noticed a shift in the townspeople’s attitude towards you. Instead of quiet resentment or unspoken distaste, now they glared at you in the market. You were just trying to pick up some things you needed. More flour, a replacement pitcher for the one you knocked off the bar and broke, soap, and sewing needles. Many of the vendors would not speak to you, one of them wouldn’t even let you look at her wares. Confused and offended you tried to ask what you had done to have service refused, she met your gaze

“Your business is turning our town into a trading post for criminals and mercenaries” she spits “you can buy your soap somewhere else”

“I don’t choose who comes through this town” you point out

“Doesn’t matter, you let them stay” she snaps the box of cut soaps shut and gives you a look, trying to intimidate you into leaving

When you turn around, many of the other vendors at the market, and citizens of your town have gathered around the soap stall. Their voices rise up from their whispers to angry shouts and accusations.

People begin blaming you for their loss of profit, their stolen property… then the accusations get more and more fanatical. The storm that knocked over a large tree and damaged someone’s speeder, another man’s daughter running away to the next town for a boy, the town children’s new interest in playing “bounty hunters and thieves”.

You back away, try to leave the market and get back to the inn. But the crowd follows you, calling out horrible names and slurs. You pick up the pace and try to block them out, but the faster you go— the faster they get.

You’re running now, running to get away from the mob that seems to be growing with each house or business you pass. You’re almost there, if you can just get to the door. The head of the mob catches you by the fabric of your shirt and yanks you back. To your horror, the rest of the mob surges forward and breaks down your door.

Several men shove you and kick you to the ground every time you try to get up. You beg them to stop, to let you go, to make the rest of the townspeople stop what they’re doing.

You can hear them inside. Smashing your glasses, using rocks to shatter the windows, flipping the tables, ransacking the kitchen, probably stealing your money and your food.

Then there’s smoke rising from the back window. Someone must have knocked coals out of the hearth. People come pouring out of the inn, disappearing back into the town and surrounding woods carrying armfuls of your stuff and coughing as black smoke billows out of your home.

The men who had been keeping you down scattered off with the rest of the crowd. You got up on your knees as the flames overtook the inn… your business… your home… burning before your eyes, and you were powerless to stop it.

The sky darkens as ugly grey clouds mask the sun. You drag yourself away to the edge of the forest just in time for the rain to begin falling. Luckily the rainfall helps to beat back the red hot tongues of fire that have engulfed your home.

You sit for hours, half waiting for the mob to return and continue beating you with sticks. But there is only you, the rain, the ruins of your inn and the smoke that begins to rise into the sky. Rain comes and goes, and the sun begins to set behind mountains. The fire seems to have gone out. You know it’s dangerous to try to poke around in the wreckage, but you have no choice.

You haul yourself up, shivering on unsteady legs and step over what used to be the front wall. Blackened wood, melted and misshapen silverware, the hearth and chimney still stand. The entire upstairs has collapsed. It’s jarring to see burnt bed frames with charred mattresses covered in ash. There’s nothing left. What little you had that actually belonged to you was gone or burned beyond saving.

Night is falling and you’ll freeze if you don’t figure out some way to get warm or have shelter. You’ll figure out what to do tomorrow if you live to see the dawn. You continue to pick through the rubble until you find something you might be able to use. The wash basin you kept in the back and used to bathe and do your laundry. It’s made of metal and miraculously intact.

Dragging it away is more effort than you expected, it’s always been an awkward item to move around. But nevertheless you drag it away from the wreckage, just inside the treeline. Using two sturdy y-frame tree branches you prop it up against the wind, and set about making a small fire to stay warm.

Thank the Maker, it didn't rain again that night. And the fire reflected back against the bottom of the tub and kept you warm all night. At first light you’re up, putting out your campfire and picking through the rubble again to find anything that could be useful. You don’t find much… just an old hunting knife your father had left to you and an iron cup.

You decide your best course of action is to walk the 45 miles to the next settlement and either seek justice for what’s happened to you… or disappear and not make any trouble. The trek to get there will take three or four days, and that’s if you make good time. Might as well get a head start.

————

Word traveled quickly about what had happened. Many mercenaries, bounty hunters and their quarries alike arrive in town to stay at the inn and find that it’s been burned to the ground and the innkeeper has been driven out of town.

The desired effect of reducing criminal activity and foot traffic through the area does occur. But not before they’ve pillaged, vandalized and reaped havoc upon the entire settlement.

The one person in the criminal underworld who seems to miss out on this information is Boba Fett. He returns to your settlement to find the entire town struggling to pick up the pieces of their lives. Your inn is nothing more than a scorch mark on the ground it once sat on with a blackened brick hearth in the center.

His heart aches and his mind turns to dark thoughts of what could have happened to you, and who was responsible for it. He storms back into the settlement, and finds the nearest groveling peasant. It just so happens it was one of the men that kicked you down while your home burned.

“What happened here?” Boba demands. The man cowers from him and doesn’t answer. “I asked you a question. What happened?”

“It was the innkeeper” the man says hastily “She let all the criminals and mercenaries in the galaxy stay under her roof… and they ransacked the town”

He doesn’t buy it… something here doesn’t add up “I don’t believe you” growled pointing a blaster at the man “Either convince me, or tell me the truth”

“No no it’s true I swear! We drove her out of town hoping the crime in our settlement would stop”

Boba nods and lowers his blaster “Thank you”

The man looks relieved for a brief moment before he sees Boba raising his blaster again. Boba dispatches him quickly without so much as a word.

We drove her out of town, the man had said. He had no remorse for what happened. No concern for you, your livelihood they had uprooted. Boba was disgusted by it.

Boba returned to the ruins of your home and began to search for any signs of you, and where you might have gone. It doesn’t take him long to find the remnants of your smaller camp fire and the metal tub you used for shelter. A good sign that you were thinking on your feet and likely survived the fire.

He thought about you, put himself in your shoes and went through what must have been going through your mind. Where to go? What to do? Obviously remaining here would not be an option. So what’s the next step? Finding somewhere safer to go.

He knows of two other settlements in this region of your planet. One is 45 miles northeast and the other 62 miles southwest. Both are long trips to take on foot with no supplies. But if you were thinking strategically you would have chosen the 45 mile hike. There’s water sources in that direction and it’s a shorter distance. So that’s the direction he takes off.

————

It’s been three days and you’re not making good time as you hoped you would. No food and cold weather makes your movements slow. You’ve been drinking water but you can only trick your stomach for so long. Plus you’re traveling in the forest just within eye sight of the road because you don’t want to be seen by other travelers. The last thing you need is another angry mob.

Your head hurts and your stomach is bloated from drinking so much water, but you’re so hungry and exhausted from walking. You sit beside a tree near the stream you’ve been following up higher into the mountains.

You wonder what the new settlement will be like. You wonder what you will do there given that you have no money and nothing to trade. You wonder if they would help you take your money and land back if you explained what happened to you. Or would they too cast you out and leave you to fend for yourself. Winter is well on its way. If they don’t help you, you’ll be dead in a matter of weeks. If not from hunger, then exposure to the cold.

These are dark and scary thoughts. Normally you would push such thoughts away and busy yourself with work, but that’s not an option now. You have nothing but time, and your mind races with all the things you’ve lost.

You’ll never get married or have children. You’ll never get to expand your garden. You’ll never start the projects you’ve always dreamed of doing. Making your own clothes. Learning to paint. Writing stories. None of it. All your hopes and dreams will fade with you into the icy cold winds that will take you.

You have to try your inner voice urges you, you have to try to make it

That thought propels you forward. You force yourself to get up and keep walking towards the next settlement. You have to pause every 50 yards or so to rest against a tree, but you don’t let yourself sit back down. You have to keep going.

Meanwhile Boba takes a speeder and begins tracking you. He can tell you’re slowing down. Good because he’ll catch you soon, but bad because that definitely means you’re getting weaker. Suddenly he can see you on the tracking system in his helmet. He can see how slowly you’re moving. He gets off the speeder and goes on foot to catch up with you.

Switching off the tracking system he follows you from a distance for a moment or two. He calls out your name as gently as he can. You whip around and stumble sideways clinging to a tree to hold you up right. There is fear in your eyes. Usually when he’s hunting a bounty that is a mark of satisfaction for him, to strike fear and command respect. But you are not a bounty. He calls out your name again and removes his helmet and hopes you’ll recognize him.

He’s too far away and your vision is too blurry. In your sleep and food deprived mind he’s one of the people that burned down your inn and beat you on the ground. But you’ve poured all of your remaining energy into pushing forward, and have nothing left to put up a fight. You lean against your tree and stare blankly at the figure that you’ve decided is definitely here to kill you.

Boba approaches you slowly with his hands raised to show you he’s not going to hurt you. His face becomes more and more clear to you as he gets closer. You search your mind for the name that goes with his face you recognize. It’s not until he’s right in front of you, catching you by the arms as your knees buckle under you, that you find the name you’re searching for.

“Boba?” Your voice is small and weak, you barely recognize it “You came back?”

He takes you into his arms and pats your back “Of course I came back”

Tag List: @cannedsoupsucks @otterly-fey @paige6768 @littledragonlady

#Boba Fett #boba fett x female reader #boba fett x f!reader #Boba Fett x reader #The Queen of Tatooine #QT

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fleursdemeduse · 3 years ago

Text

Remembrance AU: The First Time

So this isn't the first one I wrote for this "series", but this is the first one chronologically, so I decided this will be the first to be posted. Depending on how well this one and the other two I've written do will help me to decide if this is an AU I wanna continue or not. Feel free to send in asks and stuff about the AU!

Warnings: Violence ; Death

Words: 3.5k

You hated the nether. The thick dry heat choked you in a way that made you feel as if you had stepped into a wildfire in the middle of a desert, but worse. The smell of sulfur seemed to cling to your clothes in a way that made you gag every time. To be honest, you probably wouldn’t even be here if you didn’t appreciate the piglins. You were able to barter with them much easier than the villagers back home, and they had much better stuff. You snorted at the thought, and the large brute before you copied the action.

Home.

The village you had set up base in wasn’t really your home. Just a convenient place that you had set up your bed. A bed which now sat on the other side of the portal you had built on the lower level of the bastion below.

You were grateful to have access to the only thing you really needed in the nether. Trading with the piglins gave you a way to achieve more ender pearls so you wouldn’t have to kill the poor enderman on the surface. You held out another gold ingot to the brute, but he didn’t take it immediately. He was looking at something to the side of your exchange and you turned your head slightly to look too.

The heat of the nether was nothing compared to the warmth that immediately bubbled in your stomach. Everything seemed to fizzle out of existence aside from the large man that had entered the bastion. Which turned out to be your mistake.

Searing pain in your back made you grunt as you were knocked forward into the brute in front of you. You turned to see a ghast behind you that breathed another fireball. The piglin, upset at suddenly being “attacked” started to slice at you with its sword and you hissed at the damage you were taking. You didn’t want to kill the piglin. It didn’t understand that it had been an accident.

You cursed at yourself. You hadn’t realized how hungry you had been all this time, and your health felt dangerously low. Another hit from the explosion of the fireball and a swipe at the brute’s sword replaced the pain with nothing as you died.

You cursed when you woke up in your bed next to the portal. The mattress felt almost too soft as you struggled to remove yourself from it and fling yourself back through the portal. You flew up the steps, your feet taking them two at a time and you hoped your items hadn’t despawned.

You couldn’t help your sigh of relief when you saw Technoblade examining your items. You had been fast enough. You jogged up behind him, a grin on your lips, both relieved for your items and excited to finally meet him. “Hey!”

You immediately jolted to a stop at the sword now placed at your throat, but you could help but laugh at yourself. You should have expected that. You held up your hands in what you believed to be a non-threatening manner as you looked up at him.

“Sorry about that! I’m [y/n].” You watched him slowly lower the blade, eyes behind the mask narrowed at you. He looked both exactly how you expected and not how you expected at all.

“Technoblade.” You couldn’t help the giggle that spilled from your lips as you moved around him to collect your items and put back on your armor. Who hadn’t heard of him?

“Man, I hate ghasts. I worked really hard to save up all those levels, and now I have nothing.” You took a cursory glance at your levels. “Oh, I’m sorry, I have two. Fat load of help that would be. Glad I don’t need to enchant anything for a long while, hm?” You turned back to him once you had your golden boots buckled. You were totally going to take advantage of this opportunity to follow him like a puppy. No one else you had met seemed to actually understand you and the chance at an interaction with someone had you almost crawling up the walls. “Where are we off to, then?”

Techno just stared at you. You were much shorter than he was. At least a foot, if not more. How tall was he again? In this form, about seven feet, he thought. You were very short compared to him. The thought made his lips twitch before he turned, walking in the direction of where he last remembered there to be a fortress.

Chat was going crazy at the discovery of this new anomaly. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t met people he didn’t share a couple lifetimes with before. He had met plenty where they just didn’t meet in a life or two, such as George or Schlatt. But never someone he had shared none with. No one here seemed to speak of anyone new either. It was always the same people, a different storyline. As if DreamXD -or maybe Kristen? He had only met her once, but she had been very kind. Would this be her department, then?- just kept recycling their souls into new realities like a -what did that lifetime call it? A movie? Chat confirmed his thought- played for their own entertainment until they got bored and it was onto the next.

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. You were talking again, but the roar in his brain was louder, so he didn’t pay too much attention to your words, despite how the soft timbre of your voice made something bubble in his chest. What were you even doing here? He had seen you trading with the piglins before your death, -you had respawned so quickly, anyone else in this lifetime took two or three days but you seemed to reappear in what felt like seconds- so why were you following him now?

Chat’s whispers echoed through his mind.

I wonder who they are.

They can’t be older than Tommy.

Maybe we should kill them again, see what happens this time.

Wilbur will want to know about this.

They said their name was [y/n]?

Maybe they’re like Phil.

Pog.

Blood for the blood god.

They’re probably closer to Wilbur’s age.

Stab them.

Jump off the edge.

Push them off the edge.

Techno, will you call my friend Rachel a nerd?

All warfare is based on deception.

His fingers twitched around his sword at the thought. Was this all a trick? It couldn’t be.

Could it?

He glanced at you once more, focusing on your words, finally.

“-like they seem to notice, y’know? I just kind of walk into their houses, take from their chests, and move on. Hell, I even put my bed in, I think the library? Not one of them batted an eye! It’s almost scary, to be honest. I can loot their things, sleep in their beds, practically dismantle their homes, and I get nothing but a “Hnn.” in response!” A small pout found its way to your lips and Techno hummed in response. This seemed to be what you wanted to hear because a smile replaced the pout and you looked up at him. “So where are we going again?”

“Fortress.” His words were short, tone clipped, as if he didn’t know if you were gonna shove him into the lava, or if that was what he planned to do to you. It didn’t matter, to be honest. You were just thrilled he was letting you accompany him. Heart soaring at the feeling of interacting with another intelligent being once more. He even seemed to be listening as you rambled! That had to be a good thing, right? You hadn’t really met anyone else on the server yet, aside from distantly watching Dream, George, and Sapnap build the large building that stood in the center of what they dubbed the Dream SMP. A small giggle fell from your lips. That would have been a cute name had one of the members not been named it. Rather, it just felt self-centered because of that. You were mildly afraid of approaching the trio. You were almost afraid of how they would react when they met you.

You edged closer to the bridge to the fortress with Technoblade and you felt your heart speed up a little. Ash floated across your vision and you felt it hard to breathe for a moment. The sweat that made your clothes stick to your skin under your armor made you feel clammy. You had only been in one of these once since coming here when you wanted to try your hand at learning how to craft potions and needed blaze rods.

That.. hadn’t worked out in your favor.

You had only had one set of diamond armor, and you hadn’t even enchanted it at the time. When the wither skeletons had overtaken you and murdered you without a thought, you remembered racing back and trying to get your items back. This had only led to yet another death, however. Your eyebrows furrowed as the question entered your mind.

How many times had you died?

You remember when you first came to this world, waking up next to a river with a chest filled with bread, a map, a wooden axe, and a few other paltry items sitting before you surrounded by torches. The gentle babble of the water easing you awake and the smell of fresh flowers floated through the breeze. You almost didn’t mind the ants that were crawling on the ledge just a tad too close to you. You remember being so confused and the days being so hard at first. You didn’t even sleep the first couple days because you hadn’t found a village yet. The stupid phantoms that had attacked you had made you way more aggressive than you had meant to be. But you were tired and you were frustrated and you just wanted to find a stupid village already. You had been residing in the one you were in now since you had first found it your third day here. The first two deaths happening on your second day. One because of said phantoms and one because you had fallen from a cliff. You were devastated at the lack of supplies and progress when you just respawned next to that river, awaking to a few scattered zombies and a skeleton or two. You had dug yourself a hole and cried in it while you waited for sun-up. Many more deaths had happened since, but you couldn't seem to be able to remember the number now.

You hadn’t planned on returning to a fortress until you had better equipment, fearing another death. Something better than your diamond armor and golden boots and your sole netherite sword, but who were you to miss the opportunity to go exploring with The Blood God? Besides you had a bow with Power IV you had stolen from a skeleton that had been in the village. You didn’t know how durable it still was, but it was better than nothing, right?

The rattling of bones brought you out of your thoughts. Already a couple of blazes and some wither skeletons were approaching. You drew your sword, heart hammering in your chest. This wouldn’t be like last time. You had Technoblade to back you up. The top PVPer. The winner of the potato war. The Blood God. You could do this. You could do this.

A lucky swing from one of the wither skeletons caught you in the arm and you hissed as the wither effect immediately took hold and you jolted at the feeling. It was numbing. You felt nauseated. Another hit and you gasped when you felt your health drop to a dangerous level. You sliced up with your sword, removing its head from its spine with a gnarly “click” and you immediately moved out of fire to drink some milk and eat a couple of the pieces of salmon you had brought with you.

Whilst you were letting your health regenerate, you removed your bow from your inventory, aiming at one of the blazes, only to watch something white hit it first. You hesitated, looking towards Technoblade, only to see him ignoring the wither skeletons that were approaching you and focusing on throwing snowballs at the flaming mob. Your lips twitched. Fine. You’d take care of the skeletons, then.

You grabbed your sword once more and began attacking the skeletons in front of you with reckless abandon. You were growing mildly frustrated. Your arm hurt now and Techno seemed to be leaving you on your own to fight off the horde that was slowly amassing. There had only been four of them at first, but now four more had sprinted over to join the fray when they saw the two of you. Now, minus the one you had already taken care of and the two Technoblade had killed within the first ten seconds of their approach, there were five. You winced when you heard the sound of both blazes being taken care of and you hadn’t even killed one more.

‘-so she throws this apple, she just chucks this apple and says like, only the hottest goddess can take this apple.’ Chat loved it when he told them mythology stories, despite them being there when he had read it.

Greek mythology pog.

Semi-demi god for the win!

Speaking of discord, how’s the new person doing?

Persephone is definitely the hottest.

At the mention of you, Techno turned his attention to the sound of metal hitting metal and was surprised to see you still standing there, despite being crowded by wither skeletons. Just another thing to tack onto the list about you. He watched you kill another one, followed by a yelp as you took another hit, the wither effect turning the flesh around your wound a purplish black before you killed one more. You backed up on the bridge, drinking more milk and eating another piece of fish. He could see how the action pained you, but you were resilient.

They’re stupid.

Look at them wave that sword around, do they even know what they’re doing?

They haven’t died again yet?

They can’t be one of Schlatt’s people.

Save them.

Technoblade, wasn’t Eris the daughter of Zeus?

He decided to wait and see what you did. If you died, there was more for him to loot. If you didn’t, then it was a lesson. Either way, he wouldn’t have to worry about protecting you further into the fortress. His nose twitched at the smell of your blood and of rot that seemed to ooze off the skeletons. He still needed more wither skulls.

The remaining four attacked you again, despite your low health, and you felt as if you were going to cry. You hated the nether.

Two more were dispatched a lot faster than the first ones had been and you swallowed. Adrenaline coursed through your veins and you felt just the slightest bit more confident in yourself.

Two more left.

You ducked at a swing, movement still slow. You only had one more milk left, and that scared you. You couldn’t, wouldn’t, get hit again with their stupid swords and their stupid wither effect. You sliced with your sword, hooking the metal into the rib cage in front of you and sending the skeleton careening into the other just as it swung down, making the attack miss.You flinched at the sound of metal hitting stone, but you recovered faster than the skeletons in front of you. You could do this.

Another hit, your sword cutting through the skeleton’s vertebrate and killing it. You could do this.

One more.

Your sword was met with metal as you blocked its attack and you grunted, knocking it back. You could do this!

A downward slice had you throwing yourself back onto the side of the bridge as you dodged. You couldn’t die. Not here. Not now. Not in front of Technoblade again. You shoved another piece of salmon into your mouth as you backed up. You really hoped there weren’t any more blazes around. Or more skeletons waiting for you. You shoved yourself off the wall, hitting the wither skeleton with your shoulder to knock it back again before you struck once more, across the neck, beheading it.

The sight of three wither skulls in your inventory made you fall to your knees and you let out a sigh in relief. Your arms ached. Your wounds ached. Your head ached. Your vision doubled for a moment. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath. You felt great, despite how dizzy you felt at the moment. You looked at Technoblade, hoping to find him still there.

He was leaned against the wall of the fortress, watching you with crossed arms.

Was he waiting on you?

The thought made you perk up and you scrambled to stand, rushing to him while holding the skulls. “Here! I got them all!”

He merely blinked at you as you handed him all three skulls you had gotten from your fight, placing them into his inventory after a moment. He didn’t speak, just turned to descend further in. Were you supposed to follow him?

You did anyways, feeling proud of yourself. He had waited on you!

The rest of the fortress had been like that. You continuously fighting wither skeletons, blazes, regular skeletons, zombified piglins, and magma cubes, only to turn over your loot to the large warrior who would patiently wait for you. You kept a few of the bars of gold, some diamonds, and one of the saddles you had found, but ultimately, you were just spare hands to help him. The experience you were gaining was more than enough, especially since he seemed to be listening to you ramble on and on. He’d occasionally hum or grunt in response, but not much more than that. It was still such a sweet sound in your ears, despite the constant crackle of fire that just filled the nether.

He didn’t speak when he decided he was finished, just started walking back the way you came and you immediately fell into step next to him when he walked past you.

Despite your exhaustion and the pain you felt, this trip felt more than worth it.

When you returned to the bastion where you two had first met, you grinned up at him.

Techno felt his breath catch in his throat at your smile. That smile almost made the sweltering brightness of the nether feel cold and dark. He had never had someone, aside from Tommy, smile at him with such warmth. No one had a smile like yours. They were all weighed heavy with the memories from lifetimes no longer in reach. But you? You were so tired from accompanying him, still wounded from fighting for him. Aside from the couple small treasures you had hidden away, you had given him everything. There was really no reason for you to have gone with him when you received virtually nothing in return. And now you smiled at him like that? You were-

TechnoSIMP.

Look at how cute they are.

They’re stupid.

Take them back with us.

You should give them something for helping.

Hug them.

Awww look at them!

All warfare is based on deception.

He stopped that thought before it could fully finish.

“I should get going. I don’t know how dark it is and I want a bath.” He nodded at you. “I’ll catch you some other time, alright? Don’t be afraid to come by sometime if you need a buddy again, okay?”

He only hummed in response and watched you glide down the stairs of the bastion to a portal he had never noticed before.

A buddy? You weren’t a buddy. What did he really know about you?

You respawned faster than anyone else he had met. There hadn’t been another chance to test that, but you seemed unphased with your death. When you held up your hands, he couldn’t see the usual hearts on your wrist that they all shared. Even when normal members lost a life, he’s noticed that the normally red hearts are cracked and black. Phil himself had one on the center of his wrist. But yours were bare from the mark. You weren’t immortal, were you? Had he come across a god?

He chuckled at the thought.

Such a tiny god compared to him.

For now, he had to return to Pogtopia. He had to tell Wilbur about you. Perhaps write to Phil and ask if he knew anything about people with no or unlimited lives. He would repay your kindness at a later date.

He only hoped you wouldn’t be on the other side of this war.

#RemembranceAU #dsmp au #dream smp au #dsmp x reader #dream smp x reader #technoblade x reader #platonic!technoblade x reader #mcyt x reader #unsure if this will be a series or not?#if it does end up as one #might post multiple non canon romance options #tw: violence #tw: death

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hopeless-ro-simptic · 4 years ago

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Familiar Cerulean Eyes Pt. 3

Hear me out... Dabi is a fuck boi, Touya is a simp. I’m just saying. This part is Dabi’s point of view and the war that goes on in his brain when dealing with the feelings he has for Y/N. This one is a little shorter but I basically have the next part ready, I just need to tweak it a bit before posting so expect it soon.

Click here for a full list of other parts. Part 4

Still no smut. It’s a slow burn <3

Taglist: @skzero-99 @superblyspeedydragon @jparra4587 @flyingowls @emrysaaryn @imuziawi @sheedaabee @peculiarinsomniac @littlelovebug98 @plutoneu @giftofwonder @kitty-kat-ash @fukyouthink @anarchys-bnha-mess

Word Count: 2 k

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It had taken almost an hour for you to fall back asleep. Dabi played on his phone quietly, glancing over at you every so often, making snarky comments about how you were more than welcome to join him in the bed, which you had completely ignored.

Even though his alpha was begging him to pick your cute little ass up and force you into giving him attention, he resisted, knowing that would only freak you out more and would prolong the inevitable. At some point your resolve would cave. At some point you would reach out to him wanting the attention that only he could give you.

He also knew at some point you would come to the realization of who he was...

He had vowed to stay away from you, to let you move on with life, to let you have a chance at free will. But the moment he saw you in that market, with the Todoroki boy of all people, he couldn’t stop himself. He had naively thought that when he disappeared that Endevor would give up and let you go. He didn’t think that he would just pass you along to his favorite son. His pride and joy. You were older than the half and half brat by several years. Sure you looked young, but that didn’t change the fact that you were already in your twenties and was following around a teenage alpha like a lost puppy dog.

Dabi was livid. He didn’t mean to start the fire, but the alpha inside took over and the next thing he knew, the little runt was running off to go be hero, leaving you behind unprotected and scared. Dumb kid, why would he leave something as precious as you, just to go deal with a stupid fire. You were even crying out for him, begging him to come back, and the damn runt didn’t even care. This isn’t at all the life that Dabi wanted for you, the whole reason he left was to protect you, and look what was happening instead.

So Dabi took you. He took you away from the Todoroki family like he should have done years ago.

Looking over at your sleeping form now, he hopped he made the right decision. He never wanted to get you tangled up in this kind of life. It was why he didn’t take you with him when he ran. Why he left you behind hoping that you would get to make something of your life that you actually wanted.

It was too late though, he couldn’t just back out of the league, and he didn’t want to. He strongly believed in what they stood for and he wanted to be apart of tearing down hero society as the world knew it. He wanted to be the one to bring Endevor down for all the pain and hurt he had caused the people that should have been the most important to him.

He paused, looking back over to you as a soft sigh escaped your lips. His Alpha was begging for release. He needed to get out of here, away from your tantalizing scent. Looking around the room he took stock of what all he had. He probably should get some more water, and he was almost out of cigarettes himself. He briefly wondered how you felt about smoking.. maybe he would quit if you asked. He made a mental list of things to pick up, maybe a couple things for you that would help you relax. He briefly wondered if (F/C) was still your favorite.

He stood up, frowning as he realized how stupid it was of him to make you sleep in that crappy chair. He should move you over to the bed where you could be more comfortable. He shuffled over to you quietly not wanting to rouse you, attempting to slip his arms under you to pick you up. The soft groan of annoyance that slipped out between your lips had him pausing. You pushed at his chest insistently in your sleep, at one point kicking your leg out narrowly missing his crotch, grumbling to get the fuck off you and let you sleep. You sounded like you were scolding an annoying sibling that wouldn’t leave you alone. He rolled his eyes, grabbing the pillow off his bed and tucking it behind your head instead. He would just let you sleep there if you were going to start cussing at him.

Taking one last glance around the room to make sure everything was secure, he put on his mask that covered his lower half of his face, concealing his identity and closed the door behind him. Locking it.

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The little bell above the door chimed as Dabi stepped into the small store. He nodded his head at the beta that was working the register, she was a pretty blonde that had taken quite a liking to Dabi. He was pretty sure she had no clue who he actually was, but he didn’t think she would be surprised. The part of town they were in wasn’t known for being a particularly safe neighborhood.

Dabi meandered through the store isles, picking up what he needed and placing it into the tiny basket that the store provided. He glanced through the shampoo and soap collection… he was pretty sure most girls used conditioner for their hair. Should he get you one that was made for omegas? Or should he get the one that matches the shampoo he uses at home… it wouldn’t be as obvious if he got the one that matches his stuff… and he did love them smell of it on you.

He groaned softly, leaning his head on the top shelf in front of him. Why was he even thinking like this? He was acting like he was pussy whipped. He hadn’t been this considerate of another person in years. In fact, he regularly used girls just to get through his ruts and then would kick them out right after, not even bothering to hear their name. Never has he ever given a shit if they were comfortable or what they would enjoy. He hasn’t cared about any of that shit since he left you behind at that damned house. Yet the second you are back in his life he has his tail tucked between his legs ready to bend to your every whim. You didn’t even want anything to do with him. Fuck, you were literally following his little bro-, that stupid brat around like he was your world just this morning. Like you… actually wanted him. Maybe you did... or maybe the looks you used to give him were all just an act for self perseverance and you were just using the same tactic on the kid.

“What’s wrong handsome? Bad hair day?”

Dabi lazily glanced over to the beta greeting him, having left her stool at the checkout counter to come check on one of her favorite customers. Dabi knew the beta wanted his attention. She had mentioned it one too many times that she could handle a rut just as well as any omega. Hell, Dabi had been seriously considering taking her for a test drive before all of this happened. She was pretty, in a slutty kind of way, perky. He raked his eyes down her body, a frown tugging at his lips as he compared her to you. He preferred you.

“What? You don’t like what you see?” A pout was growing on her lips and Dabi internally rolled his eyes at her pitchy whine. She would never be able to get his mind off of you. It wasn’t worth it.

“Sorry babe. I’m just not feeling great.” This placated her slightly, enough so that she rolled her eyes before turning back to the counter to busy herself with work once more.

Dabi looked back at the selection in front of him, grabbing the matching conditioner to what he already had in shampoo. He continued on with his shopping at a faster pace now, just wanting to get back to you, to your scent. He paused just before the counter, a collection of nesting blankets up on the wall in front of him of varying styles.

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Touya was on fire, but this time the fire wasn’t visible, and it wasn’t because of his quirk. His face was bright red as he stood in front of you, a crudely wrapped present in his hands, your F/C ribbon tied around it with a bow that was a little lopsided.

He had rushed into the kitchen where you and his mother Rei were working on putting together dinner after coming home late from training with his father. His mom had sent him a knowing smile, ruffling his hair to his annoyance, before excusing herself to another room leaving the two of you alone in the kitchen.

He was bursting with anxiety as he handed you the present, watching as you gingerly pulled one side of the ribbon letting it unravel, and pulling the wrapping apart to uncover the soft fur blanket that was bundled inside. The way that your face lit up, your cheeks turning as red as his own as you pulled the blanket out of the wrapping and up to your face to breathe in the smell that he had spent time making sure was covering the entire blanket made all his worries disappear. You liked it.

“I know, that this isn’t really the traditional way since… well you know.., but I wanted to get you something… I wanted to ask you to… if you wanted..” Touya was tripping over his words. Nothing seemed right. Nothing could explain the feelings he had for you, that he knew would only grow as you both reached presenting age, and not to mention maturity after that, he knew that this was only the beginning to what he had hoped would be a long life with you by his side. Even at such a young age, he knew you were it.

You could feel it too, he thought. You were always so kind to him, even though his father had bought you with the sole purpose of being Touya’s omega just to breed your quirks once you were older. You had always cared for him in a way that was different than how his parents had cared for each other and the moments that you two stole away to be alone convinced Touya that maybe you would be okay with the life that you were forced to live, as long as he was there with you.

The smile that you gave him melted his heart and he smiled back as you nodded. You knew what he was trying to say, you always did.

About three day’s later, Endevor set that blanket up in flames. Belittling the small omega for messy nesting habits, the young alpha for wasting time on courting an omega he already owned.

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Dabi shook his head, grabbing the blanket closest to him causing the beta at the counter to raise her eyebrows, throwing it up on the counter along with his basket of items. He quickly picked out his cigarettes, paying for the items and slipping out of the shop without another word. He wanted to get back to his Omega.

Once he was back in his apartment, after confirming you were still indeed asleep, he went to work grumbling the whole time to himself about his omega like behavior, putting the items he bought away, the conditioner being slipped inconspicuously in the shower for later use if you wanted. He made quick work of cleaning up the small room of his apartment, even stopping to pick up his clothes and put them in the dirty hamper, along with yours that were discarded on the floor. He felt so restless, anxiously glancing over at the bag with the blanket in it every few minutes before he finally gave up and just spread the blanket across your lap not bothering to scent it. You would ask him if you wanted him to.

Finally, he collapsed onto his bed, peeling his hoodie off and balling it up to use it as a makeshift pillow. He probably should have grabbed a second one while he was out, but he didn’t think about it. He let his mind roam, tucking his arms behind his head as he stared at the ceiling breathing in your scent, a smirk coming to his lips as he relaxed from the smell. He didn’t need the help of some perky beta, not when he knew he could have you.

#bnha omegaverse #alpha dabi #omega reader #bnha #mha #mha omegaverse #dabi is touya #dabi is a todoroki #dabi #dabi x y/n #dabi x female reader #dabi x you #dabi x reader #crispy

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genshin-impacted · 4 years ago

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empress of the first water // Zhongli x Reader (1)

Word Count: ~2.2k

Palace/Harem Imperial Drama AU: You are a princess, soon-to-be-Empress, and Zhongli is the teacher invited by the royal court to show you the ropes before you ascend to the throne after a royal tragedy.

Notes: female!reader, eventual mutual pining, fake political maneuvers, mentions of death (yes, this is a set up to a harem drama, but Zhongli is focused in this), Zhongli POV

[Next]

hello welcome to the AU I made up; hope I finish this someday :)

“You are unfit to lead this country.”

Not two weeks after a tragedy that hits the royal family, leaving you the sole heir to the throne, that is what has been said to you over and over again. The royal court adjourns without delay, placing you in the middle of it-- though you could care less.

You hold whatever you have been able to salvage from the fire: a necklace momento from your father, the dress that your mother had woven herself. And in your hands, you hold in an urn the ashes of what remains of your family.

There is nothing else on your mind except for the fact that you are alone as the lone heir to the throne, the only living princess of the royal bloodline, and soon-to-be Empress of a nation that you are not prepared to lead.

You just want to mourn.

Zhongli has lived long enough to understand that politics will always be the determining factor in which his life will be led. It does not matter what he dreams of doing or what he desires. As the only born son to one of the oldest and most prestigious families in the nation, his life has never been his own-- though he supposed no one born of royalty has ever been truly in control of their path.

Still, Zhongli finds ways to play what cards he has. He earns praises for his wide array of knowledge in tradition, politics, and culture alike, but it is easy to know something if you are interested in it. He remembers vividly when Guizhong teased him, calling him an old soul when he delved personally into the traditions of tea ceremony, of calligraphy and poetry, out of his own volition because he enjoyed learning. His skills in the polearm-- also passed down in his lineage-- have also not been neglected, for he finds that it is similar to dancing, an elegant and respectful pastime that he often admires in operas and shows that he indulges himself in. If he could do anything with his life, Zhongli thinks he would be a writer or a teacher, or possibly even a historian.

("Old man," Guizhong had said to him affectionately for the last time before she left the compound to serve her duty as a princess, like many others. "One day you'll find yourself someone who listens to you and you'll talk their ear off."

"I doubt anyone would listen to what I have to say willingly," he had said, and his friend had only given him a soft look and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"I don't," she said.)

It has been years since he has entertained the idea of living a quiet life writing his knowledge onto paper and even longer still since had long last seen his childhood friend. Zhongli finds himself in the fray of politics that he knows so much of and has no choice but to delve into when he is invited to the royal capital.

"It is a great honor," his father had said to him, hands behind his back, "to be meeting the Princess of the royal family. Make a good impression; this is of the utmost importance."

Political maneuver, Zhongli thinks immediately, not doubting the intention of an invitation coming from the palace, especially after the incident he has been told of. A fire of great destruction, the burning of a whole wing with the royal family trapped inside-- one would think it was a plot to overthrow the Emperor, but if anyone were to stage a coup, they would have burned the inner walls of the palace where the man resides, bedridden. A great coincidence to have the royal family unable to escape, but it almost seems too malicious to call it that. Gross neglect? Bad luck? Karma? Truly, a tragedy as the death of many could not be described worse than as an accident.

Zhongli thinks it is much too early to be moving the chess pieces so soon after half the board has been razed to the ground, but he supposed the world has never been that kind.

With a trained expression, Zhongli picks up the tea that had been brewed and takes a sip (too bitter, stepped too long, he thinks, wincing slightly, and putting the cup down). "I understand, father." He pauses for a moment and considers his words. "Is there a particular reason for this invitation?"

"The Princess is in need of education due to her lack of preparation as an heir," he says, "though I also hear she is in need of a husband as well."

The tea leaves in the cup trembles for a moment before sinking. "Father?"

"This is an opportunity of a lifetime, son."

And Zhongli thinks about his role, his abandoned journal, and books yet to be read and nods. "I understand," he says, wondering why, even though he expects where his life has been leading, he feels disappointed by the outcome anyway. "I will bring honor to our family."

"I expect nothing less," is what is said to him, and Zhongli swallows the bitterness of the tea down.

When Zhongli arrives at the palace, he is welcomed with all the excitement that is to be expected from the arrival of a son whose family holds prestige. Maids of many numbers cater to his every whim, and the few court officials who seem to favor him welcome him to the royal palace, which is broad and grand just as history would describe them.

Briefly, he wonders if it is professionalism or greed that maintains the palace’s daily businesses after an evident tragedy.

"I would like to extend my greetings and gratitude to the princess for allowing me in her castle," Zhongli says carefully, his voice even and words like silk-- just as he was taught as an educated man-- and watches in confusion as the nobleman who had barely kept his pleasure at his presence suddenly deflate.

"Ah, yes, of course, you would like to see the Princess," he says, a nervous lilt to his voice. "But I'm afraid she is preoccupied with another commitment at the moment. My apologies."

Invitation from the Princess, he remembers reading from the telegram, thinking it strange that someone would invite someone without intentions of welcoming them. It's easy to come to the conclusion that the Princess had not sent the message-- and the thought that she may not even know of his arrival also comes following after. Instead of speaking, Zhongli nods, much to the noble's relief as he continues to parade and provide him the tour that he has not asked for but appreciates nevertheless.

His room is two halls down the main chambers where you live. If the location and proximity to royalty were not enough, the room itself was also vast and much too big for one person, but he supposes luxury and decadence can be shown in empty space as well as it can with beautiful trinkets and trophies. Zhongli has always admired such things, as he does with the ornate statue sitting on top of his vanity and wonders when, if he ever does, he will be able to explore the castle in between whatever responsibilities the court deems him in need for.

"Maid," Zhongli says gently, but the young maid startles anyway when he addresses her.

"Yes, sir?"

"Would I be allowed to stroll the gardens of the west side of the palace?" He says, "The moon is to be full tonight and I wish to view it."

She flushes, for reasons that Zhongli knows not for. "I-I believe so. The guards should be patrolling at the moment, but you are a recognized guest of the palace, so all should be well."

When Zhongli steps out onto the carefully maintained rock garden, he spots a few men walking down and up the inner walls of the castle. He briefly thinks about the number of them but thinks no further, for now. Instead, he thinks the moon is best viewed when its reflection is in the water, clouds are nowhere in sight, and all is quiet. He comes close to the perimeter of the garden inner castle, expecting to see no one.

Zhongli steps into the moonlight and watches as you sit onto the grass and lean your head against the lone lantern post.

Perhaps you are here to moon-gaze as well, he thinks and goes to alert you with his presence by clearing his throat. He doesn't know why his earnest attempts to be unalarming go unwell, but he startles you into turning around.

Zhongli does not know what the Princess looks like, nor has he had anyone describe you to him. But Zhongli knows who you are if not solely from the emblem you carry on your headpiece and the way you hold a funeral urn in your lap like it is the only thing tethering you. As such, he expects the caustic demands of his name and stature, as expected of a Princess, but he is surprised to find that you look at him instead like a deer in headlights, arms tense around the urn.

"My apologies for startling you, my lady," Zhongli begins, "that was not my intention."

"Oh, no, it's okay," you stammer, and he has to blink for a moment at the manner in which you speak. "I should have probably noticed you coming. I was distracted."

Princesses and princes of the royal family are taught three things from birth: power, manners, and tradition. Nothing says more about your status than the way you hold yourself and the way you speak, especially if you are of royalty, and so every word that one must speak seems carefully crafted and intricately woven with elegance. A tad bit obnoxious, if anyone could say, but it is a mark of the elite, regardless of the former.

But you, who hold possibly one, if not the most, powerful title in the country, speak casually and without bothering with a mask of neutrality, as though you are unused to the burdens of sovereignty.

Your eyes are gentle, almost excessively so, and the way you hold yourself as though you want to be unnoticed are both strange but corroborating evidence of your peculiarities of a noblewoman. Though Zhongli has yet to understand why this is so, the instructions his father listed and his role in the castle has become clearer.

Zhongli has many questions, too many to ask about to a person who has no idea who he is.

Decorum takes him before his curiosity overwhelms him, and he lowers his head in deep respect. "My name is Zhongli, Princess. Thank you for allowing me to stay as a guest within the palace.”

"Oh," he hears you breathe out, "you're the one that came today." You turn your head toward the koi pond that beautifully reflects the moon. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to greet you," you say mechanically, trained.

"No, that's quite alright," Zhongli says mildly, glancing down at the urn still in your hands. "I'm sure greeting a stranger would be the least of your concerns at the moment."

At this, you smile at him. It is not a happy smile, but rather a pained one that strains your lips and pinches your eyes. Zhongli thinks back on his first lesson to maintain his expression, to keep composure, and almost marvels at the emotions clear on your face for him to see.

(He thinks this may make your life harder for you, to wear your heart on your sleeves. But he finds himself selfishly wanting you to stay as you are.)

"I've been told one week is all I should be given to mourn, as typical of a funeral ceremony. My parents' ashes should be released but…" You glance up at the night sky dim with stars. "I know in my heart this is not the place for them."

"Then what is the place?" Zhongli echoes and holds his breath when the smile you give him is gentle beyond measure.

"Some place where the wind blows," you say, "where the earth is clean and the ocean is near. That way, my parents can choose freely where to find rest." You laugh. "That must be a pretty tall order, isn't it?"

"You are a Princess," Zhongli finds himself saying, and you turn back to him. "I believe you are allowed to demand only the very best, for yourself and your loved ones."

"I believe," he continues, when he sees your eyes mist over, "that I am here to tutor you in the ways the court deems fit. I have been praised to have a wealth of knowledge and the privilege of history in my family as well as the power of my lineage; I will guide you as best as you need me to." He pauses. "And… if you require a geographical lesson on the highest peaks, the widest oceans, and the most open plains, for reasons beyond academic, I will be available to you."

Zhongli returns to his room (two halls away, he reminds himself, from you), and it is only then he realizes that he has not looked at the moon at all. Not directly, he thinks, but he supposes he did see a glimpse of it, as it stands behind you as a backdrop to frame the smile you gave him that was as bright as starlight.

#zhongli #zhongli x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin zhongli #genshin impact zhongli #genshin imagines #genshin au #imperial drama au

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maraleestuff · 2 years ago

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Find the Word Tag

I was tagged by @writingpotato07, thank you :) (Little known random personal trivia: the word search/ find the word tag games are my favorite)

My Words: Peel | Dress | Bend | Lonely | Stone

Tagging: @renee-writer, @spellboundinks, @taz-writes, and anyone else who wants too!

Your Words: Envy | Tale | Fill | Order | Device

Peel | The Guiding Star

“Oi!” Collioc, a middle-aged Zarinian with cobalt skin and a grizzled beard, snaps near my face, breaking me out of my thoughts. “Order something or leave. You’re blocking other customers.”

“Right.” I look at the menu board—a hologram screen—though I’ve been here enough times that I probably have the damned thing memorized by now. “Ainead Moonshine,” I order, sliding onto a barstool, the drying leather cracked and peeling from idle fingers. Will Collioc ever replace these stools?

Dress | A Healer’s Lament

“I’m here to help!” I yell. “Call out so I can find you!”

“I-I’m here!” The voice comes again. Not quite inside the ship…

I wander around the hull of the ship. There, in the middle of broken, splintered planks, is a bosmer, leaning against the broken ship. She’s dressed in armor—one of the marines?

Bend | Forged in Fire

A sting cuts like a whip across her shoulder. Artemis cries out, instinctively staggering back, stumbling over the hem of her kirtle. She falls onto her backside, stinging—but its numbed by terror as the assassin bends over her.

Artemis glimpses golden cheek bones under the hood, silver eyes like a clear lake; bright, hungry, feverish with bloodlust. She can easily imagine a feral, unhinged grin under the assassin's mask.

Lonely | The Guiding Star

“Say, I’ve been wondering,” Collioc starts, pulling out a rag to clean a sticky section of the counter. “That tattoo you have”—he nods toward my forearm— “why a compass?”

“A star,” I correct, biting back a sigh. A diamond-shaped star, about the size of a medallion, my tattoo has often been mistaken for the common symbol of a compass. “Polaris.”

“Never heard of it.” Collioc pours another drink, handing it off to a patron.

“It’s the North Star on Earth,” I say, not surprised that Collioc doesn’t know of it; I’m not even sure you can see it in Zarin’s night sky. My father had told me about Polaris when I was younger, in the jumbled memories when the ache of everything became bone-deep and lonely. “Some call it the guiding star.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s it guiding you toward?”

I sigh, taking a long drink. “I’ll let you know when I find out.”

Stone | The Rebel and the Mage

Windhelm appears out of the fog, looming like a fortress in the gray, early morning light. The dark stone walls glint slightly with ice and frozen-over snow. Dockworkers flit back and forth as the Northern Maiden pulls into port.

I shiver slightly, wrapping my cloak tighter around myself. Dunmer clothing is cottony, but meant to keep out ash, not snow—but even then, nothing could've prepared me for Skyrim's bone-deep chill.

Additional notes under the line break

- A Healer's Lament was originally named When Darkness Falls. (There's content under the tag wip: when darkness falls, but the current tag is wip: a healer's lament).

- Forged in Fire doesn't have a wip page — yet.

- The Rebel and the Mage is my most recent wip—I haven't put together a wip page just yet. (It's listed in my intro post as untitled.

- The "lonely" snippet is the first scene idea I had for The Guiding Star and, as you might be guessing, the reason for the story's title. I couldn't help but share the excerpts entirety lol.

#find the word tag #writeblr #wip: the guiding star #wip: a healer’s lament #wip: forged in fire #wip: the rebel and the mage

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platypanthewriter · 3 years ago

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Hook Possum 1/4

Art by @monsdasarah for Harringrove Big Bang!

Steve had told the manager of Camp Butternut Springs every year of his life that the mildewed, papier-mache-masked, six-foot-tall opossum mascot was terrifying. The mask was chipped and patched, fixed with different colors of gray over the mangy glued-on fur. Its long, stained rat tail had drug through the red camp dirt for decades, and by the summer of 85, the dirty thing looked like it had been dyed with blood.

Hook Possum looked more like a zombie than a possum, with its mesh eyes staring in their ragged, uneven sockets, its lovingly molded teeth half broken off and stained with grime. Inexplicably—but later, retroactively, mythologized by a ton of camp folklore—it had a hook hand off a pirate costume, gleaming in the sun.

Every goddamn year the goddamn manager had the goddamn Hook Possum outfit on some poor camp counsellor, out greeting campers—the goddamn moron—and every fucking goddamn year one of the already-homesick and worried new campers burst into sobs at first sight of the horrifying thing. Steve wondered whether the manager was actually in the huge, blank-eyed Hook Possum costume this year, like a prick, because it was even bigger than usual—as tall as Steve, with its ripped ratty ears, and broad-shouldered in a way Steve suspected wasn’t padding.

The hook hand didn’t exactly help.

Steve grabbed the first wailing child he saw around the waist, then two more, and stomped over to the damn possum. “Here, look, Hook Possum’s not scary,” he said, and they all screamed, because it was so clearly a lie.

Hook Possum, somewhat to his credit, dropped to a crouch, his shoulders hunched, and Steve thought maybe it wasn’t the manager, just some poor camp counsellor that got roped in, because the manager probably would have roared like a lion—just for fun—and the kids would have wet themselves all over Steve’s lap.

“Hook Possum just lives here!” Steve told the screaming infants he was holding. “If you get scared at night,” Steve shouted over their desperate wailing and struggles, “—away from home? Hook Possum is here to keep you safe. Right?”

Whoever was playing Hook Possum flinched, and its creepy head jerked around to look at him.

“HELP!” shrieked the kid under his arm, his voice nasal, because he was holding his nose against Hook Possum’s fug of mildew and B.O.

“Nobody has ever yet been murdered by Hook Possum,” Steve gritted out. “Right?!” he prompted the moron in the mascot suit again, nudging a fur-suited leg with his shoe. “Hook Possum is like a...camp guardian! Right?”

Hook Possum stared at his face, which was chilling—after Steve’s first visit to Camp Butternut Springs, Hook Possum had featured in every one of Steve’s childhood nightmares, and the costume was even worse after nearly two decades of wear—but Steve was as tall as the thing now, and he set his jaw.

“Hook Possum is friendly, right,” he growled, and Hook Possum gave a jerky nod, making a weird choking noise, like maybe it had already eaten a couple of kids.

“Y-ye-ahssss,” the thing hissed, and Steve was tempted to push the whole mess, including the person inside, under a bus. “Safe as houses,” said the possum, just as strangled-sounding, but it was better than staring silently, so Steve grinned ruefully at the kids, who were quieting as they realized they weren’t murdered—not yet, anyway.

“You’ll get used to Hook Possum,” he said cheerfully. “We all do. Eventually.”

It had occurred to Steve one night when he was fourteen, and firmly over his terror of Hook Possum, that the perfect cover for an actual serial killer would be a terrifying full-body costume everyone was trying to ignore. He and Tommy had followed the costume around every time it had someone in it, looking for suspicious behavior. Years later, he’d donned it himself, and for the first time in his life didn’t fear getting murdered by Hook Possum. He only worried he might die of heatstroke in padded fur boots, gloves, and a bodysuit in July in Indiana, except for a few startling glimpses of himself in the mirror over the sinks.

His suggestion every week in the suggestion box was still ‘burn the Hook Possum costume and bury the ashes under a rock’, though, because he was a rational human being who understood what needed to be done.

When he’d talked Robin into applying with him at the camp instead of the video store, he’d snuck the costume on and leaned into her cabin. She’d screamed satisfyingly, and nearly killed him with an oar. She’d argued for burying the ashes of Hook Possum in seven different locations around the US, lest it rise again, and they’d put that in the suggestion box, to no response whatsoever.

It was pretty obvious the current Hook Possum wasn’t used to the cheerful voice necessary to offset its...everything, so Steve did his best. “Are you guys telling me you’re afraid of possums?” he teased, and the littlest kid, a girl, reached out and lightly batted its nose. The smell of cigarettes wafted up.

“I’m afraid,” said the boy, thickly, and Steve nodded slowly, feeling nothing but respect for a smart child.

“Hook Possum protects you guys,” he told them, sitting them on their feet. “From whatever, you know, else.”

“What could be out there,” the scared boy whispered, his eyes widening, “—that’s worse than—”

“...yeah,” said Hook Possum, in a weird squeaky voice like a Disney mouse. “Yeah, that’s what I’m here for, I’m here to protect you guys from...nightmares?” he suggested, glancing at Steve, who shrugged, nodding, because it was a pretty good idea.

“You’re soft,” said the littlest kid, grabbing one of the other snifflers by the wrist, and shoving it into Hook Possum’s fur.

“You stink,” said the boy, and Steve elbowed him.

“I’m a possum,” hissed Hook Possum, and the kid nodded.

“That makes sense.”

Steve muffled his laughter, but he was pretty sure the possum heard, because his crooked, whiskery mask jerked up, and his terrifying mesh eyes stared into Steve’s soul. He smelled like long winters in a damp shed, and cigarettes, and B.O.— because it was worn every year in the summer in Indiana—but the smallest kids were gathering around and asking questions about possums, and Steve had to call upon his knowledge from years past, and explain things like how possums were too awesome to get ticks.

Hook Possum listened intently—or maybe just glared at him, smoke drifting from its eye mesh—until Steve was a little annoyed, and mentioned that mother possums carried babies around on their backs. That was probably way too mean, because the whole horde of children grabbed hold of Hook Possum’s every appendage, and he flailed his hook only once before vanishing in the giggling pile.

“Here, here, no—” Steve yelped, unable to watch a human being consumed by piranha, and he reached into the laughing, yelping pile and hauled Hook Possum up by the arm, dusting him off. Two small children dangled from his other arm, and one had him around the neck. “You have to be nice to Hook Possum!” Steve told them. “Who’s he gonna stay up protecting, huh? The kids who’re nice to him, or the little, uh, cusses that knee him in the...shins?”

“...the nice ones,” came a small, grumbly voice from one of the criers, and “Probably the nice ones,” from a little girl who sighed heavily, and another kid just said, “Fine.” The dude in the possum suit just panted against Steve’s shoulder for a second, and Steve let him, familiar with getting dogpiled by small children with weaponized knees.

“...jesus,” came a faint whisper from in the possum suit, and Steve pinched him, even though he was grimacing with sympathy. He lifted the kids off Hook Possum—once the littlest ones had decided he was safe, they tried to drag him around and show everyone how brave they were—and the human in the suit tried to wipe his face, or something, and smacked his hook-hand into the head of his costume. He sighed, and Steve squeezed his shoulder, and patted his back, ushering the kids away.

“What are you doing here,” Hook Possum wheezed, as Steve pushed him back to sit on one of the picnic table benches. “What are you doing here,” he repeated, sounding bewildered.

“My dad owns the place,” Steve said in a low voice, as the littlest boy ran back to the buses, screaming about how he’d met Hook Possum, and Robin and Nancy looked over, resigned. “That’s why it pays so well. We went to him and told him he could have a staff that would work hard, or he could have three underpaid girls who want it on their resume for becoming teachers, and the second week they’d all have nervous breakdowns. Why, do...do I know you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at the blank mesh eyes, and trying to place the weird squeaky voice.

Hook Possum nodded slowly, but Steve was pretty sure he was still staring. Maybe it was just the mesh eyes. “...oh,” he said quietly. “Your...dad. Owns...it.”

“Yep,” Steve said, shrugging. “I mean, he owns the company that owns a bunch of camps, you know, but—anyway, you’ve never been a counselor before, right? I can show you around, if you want. What’s your name? How d’you know me?”

Hook Possum stared at him some more, and then said, even higher, like Mickey Mouse, “He’s, like, the owner’s boss?” he asked weakly. “...name’s Hook Possum.”

“What the fuck,” Steve muttered, staring back into the mesh eyes, but then he saw Robin’s arm fly up as she was consumed in a wave of children, and he clapped Hook Possum on the shoulder and ran off.

He saw the guy later, too, still in the costume, even though it was July in Indiana. He was talking to Max Mayfield, so Steve wandered over. “You need some help getting out of that?” he offered, because nobody would stay in a horrible hot stinking furry sweat bag by choice.

“No,” said Hook Possum, too quickly, and Max groaned into her hands.

“Uh,” said Steve, who was starting to wonder if they’d found some possum-obsessed weirdo for a counselor. “You must...really like possums.”

Max burst into giggles, laughing harder than Steve had ever seen her, and Hook Possum’s long face swung to look at her, then at Steve, then back at her, and then he stomped away. Because the costume had big, dirty, saggy fur paw-booties, he had to lift his feet high, like a cartoon, and Steve started snickering too.

Hook Possum hunched his shoulders, and scuttled around the edge of one of the cabins, out of sight.

“Oh my god,” Max cackled. “He’s finally found his true identity! Trash rat.”

“Is...is that...Billy,” Steve asked, the thought of Billy Hargrove, camp counselor, hauling off and punching kids, or murdering them, suddenly much less funny. “What—isn’t he back in Hawkins?! How’d he get here?!”

“Uh, no! No, no,” Max said quickly, grimacing and waving her hands. “Definitely, um, not, no. It’s, ah, he lives on my street. He’s, um, saving money to move out.”

“Oh,” Steve said, relieved.

“The pay’s really good here,” Max explained, too fast. “—and, uh, mmmm...hiiiis dad’s kinda shitty, so he needs money to get out of his house.”

“Well, he should be able to,” Steve told her, giving her two thumbs-up so she’d make a face. “We’re practically all seniors, that’s what a lot of us are doing, that or paying for college.”

“...yeah,” Max sighed. “He can...move away. Finally.”

“Sounds like you’ll miss him,” Steve said, grinning at her, “—he the brother you never had?”

“...yeah, he um. He sort of is,” she said, swallowing, and Steve patted her shoulder gingerly.

“Uh,” he said cautiously, “Um, you...you know you can always give me a call, right?”

“Thought you had kind of a problem with my family,” she sighed, and he shook his head.

“I’ve got no problem with you.”

“...yeah, that’s what we thought,” Max muttered, maybe, and Steve frowned at her. “Go away,” she told him, sighing, “It’s fine.”

They got everybody sorted into cabins, and Steve saw Hook Possum ducking into a bunk in the counselor’s cabin. He stared for a long moment, watching the enormous possum negotiate its tail and its creepy, vacant-eyed mask and lie down on the lower bunk.

“It’s hot as Satan’s asshole in here,” he groaned.

“...what are you doing,” Steve hissed. “They cannot be paying you enough to stay in that thing. There is not enough money in the world to stay in that thing for more than a couple hours.”

“Ah, fuck,” said Hook Possum, sitting up and smacking his head on the upper bunk. “Shit fuck,” he groaned, “—I can’t see in this thing—”

“Then take it off,” Steve told him, sitting next to him on the bunk and reaching in to feel for the ties behind the guy’s neck, but Hook Possum grabbed Steve’s hand, scrambling back.

“No! No, uh,” he stopped, then tried again. “I need the money,” he said softly. “I need it—”

“Okay, okay, did you agree to some—some massive bonus bullshit to keep this damn costume on? Because you’re gonna die of heatstroke in there,” Steve told him. “I don’t care how much he offered you, you can’t wear that thing all summer—”

“No, I did, I agreed to—to bonus bullshit to keep the damn costume on,” Hook Possum whispered, the fingers in his paw-glove squeezing Steve’s arm, hard. “I can’t take it off. He’s—he’s giving me a huge bonus.”

“Fuck,” Steve breathed. “You’re gonna die in there, I’m not kidding. You can stay in the shade, or—and we can bring you ice, lots of ice, you could try an ice pack on your neck—”

“I need this job,” the guy said, and Steve nodded, letting him go.

“Okay, okay. We’ll figure this out, but if the manager comes out, I’m kneeing him in the balls, because—”

“No! I need the money,” Hook Possum hissed, the weird cartoony voice even odder in a serious conversation.

“Jesus,” Steve said, sighing. “Okay. I’m gonna check in with you, alright? If you start to keel over, I’m taking it off, we’ll figure out something to tell the manager.”

“Don’t take it off,” said Hook Possum, like he was the last soldier holding the line, and Steve got caught up in it, like a moron.

“I’m not leaving you in there,” he said, like the trenches were getting shelled. “I’m not letting anyone die in a possum costume,” he said, to remind himself they weren’t at D-Day. Hook Possum sighed, his shoulders slumping as he growled. “And you can’t sleep in that thing, jesus,” Steve said, “At least change at night.”

“You’d—somebody’d see me,” Hook Possum said, and Steve shook him, a little.

“We aren’t possum spies, nobody’s gonna tell.”

“How do I know you’re not possum spies,” Hook Possum hissed back, and Steve started snickering.

“Okay, okay, um, curtain? What about a curtain, we’ll just staple it up here and nobody’ll see your, uh, late night transformation.”

“Oh,” said Hook Possum, snickering a little, like he did realize how ridiculous it all was, and looking around. “That...might work.”

“Gonna transform out of your outfit like a shitty Cinderella,” Steve sighed, and Hook Possum laughed harder. “You’re gonna have to shower in the dead of night,” Steve told him. “I’ll let everybody know it’s just, y’know, just our resident possum. Creeping around.” He started laughing again, and Hook Possum elbowed him. “How are you gonna eat?”

“Shouldn’t be feeding the wildlife in the cafeteria anyway,” Hook Possum pointed out. “There are signs everywhere.”

“...you know you’re a human, right,” Steve told him, trying not to giggle.

Hook Possum shook with laughter against him. “I’ll just climb into a trash can and knock it over at three am. It’s the way of my people.”

“Oh my god,” Steve wheezed. “I’m gonna get in trouble for feeding the wildlife and letting a possum nest in here, aren’t I? I’ll sneak you burgers, I promise.”

“Why,” Hook Possum laughed, edging away. “It’s not your problem, Harrington—”

“Hey, Max likes you, you’re part of the weirdo family we got going on,” Steve said, clapping the guy’s shoulder, and the possum mask swung towards him again.

“...does she?” he asked, snorting softly.

“She does,” Steve confirmed. “She said.” Hook Possum stared like a creepy puppet, and Steve was unable to resist reaching up and patting the dusty, greasy fur between the costume ears. “You’re one of us, now.”

“...once you feed wildlife, it can create a dependency,” Hook Possum said, batting Steve’s hand away, but he was laughing audibly now. “I read that in a flyer.”

“I can’t believe they handed a possum a flyer about possums,” Steve said, and Hook Possum snorted.

“Right? Like who the fuck deals with wildlife by handing them flyers, what a moron.”

“I didn’t know possums could read,” Steve said, and Hook Possum kicked at him, completely missing. “What a smart possum you are.”

“Fuck you, if I could see in this thing—”

“Oooo, you gonna murder me with your little—your plastic pirate hook hand?” Steve asked, and Hook Possum laughed harder, letting himself fall sideways to curl up on the bunk.

“Fuck you,” he mumbled again, wheezing with laughter.

Steve wondered who he was—whether he’d defended Max from Billy, or just showed her some skateboard tricks. Whether he was younger, maybe—Steve didn’t know most of the freshmen—and what he’d look like in about ten minutes when he gave up on the incredibly stupid idea of living in a possum suit for the whole damn summer.

Steve got hauled into setting up the welcome dinner, sitting the tables out, and putting cleanish rocks on the stacks of napkins to keep them from blowing away. Hook Possum was useless at it—he nearly dropped the plates, and then bumped into a table because he couldn’t see, almost overturning it, and finally Steve put both hands on his furry possum shoulders and walked him over to a group of smaller kids who were milling around, bored by the orientation speech.

As he wandered by later, he heard Hook Possum telling them “Possum Facts.”

“Possums are gonna be the next police dogs,” he was saying, as Steve stared over. “They’re gonna yell ‘Fly, my pretties!’ and the perp will be overwhelmed by possums.”

“That’s good,” said one solemn little kid, softly. “I’m afraid of dogs.”

“Hook Possum is here to protect us,” said another one. “You can find him if you’re scared of dogs.”

The first kid nodded, wide-eyed, and Hook Possum stared at one, then the other. “...uh, yeeeah,” he said, slowly. “Sure.”

“He’ll fight the dogs, Robin said,” said the first kid, and Hook Possum’s mask jerked towards her.

“Wait, what?!” he hissed, and Steve ducked away, smothering snickers.

Dinner was uneventful, as usual, in that there was so much chaos Steve was deadened to it, automatically reaching in to stop Dustin from using his spoon to catapult peas at Erica Sinclair and starting WWIII.

He snuck off when he saw Hook Possum tiptoeing away like a stealthy cartoon. “D’you need me to feed the wildlife?” he asked, and Hook Possum yelped, spinning around, so his tail whipped Steve in the legs.

“Holy shit,” he panted, in his weird squeaky voice.

“Sorry, forgot you were a possum on the edge, man,” Steve told him, clapping a hand to his shoulder, and Hook Possum started laughing again, cigarette smoke trailing out of the eyeholes of his mask. Steve watched it. “...you have no idea how fucking creepy that looks,” he said. “It’s eerie.”

“Creepier than my big blank eyes?” Hook Possum asked, and Steve wished he could see the expression of the person in the suit—whether it was resigned, or entertained, or what.

“D’you want me to get you some food?” Steve asked. “I can’t see you using the tongs, or like...seeing the buffet very well.”

“Also, I’m filthy,” Hook Possum said, raising a dusty paw.

“That too,” Steve agreed.

“...I can get something later,” Hook Possum said, laughing a little.

“You still have to eat, man,” Steve told him. “And drink some water, at least.”

“What’s going on back here,” came Max’s voice, and they both swiveled. She had a tray in her hands, and her eyes narrowed.

“Harrington was offering to feed the wildlife,” said Hook Possum, and she snorted.

“You’re a camp counselor, set a good example,” she hissed, waving Steve away. “Didn’t you see the flyers, Steve? You can’t feed possums.”

“Everyone saw the flyers, they even gave them to him,” Steve said, pointing. “Possums probably can’t even read.”

“I barely can, in this,” Hook Possum admitted. “I had to hold it up over my eyeholes.”

“Hrm,” said Max. “Okay, Steve, go away, Nancy said to tell you you’re on dishes.”

Steve sighed, and left them to it.

When he was done, he found an old tatty camp flag in the storage shed, half faded and ripped—he remembered somebody getting in trouble, in years past, for leaving it up all winter—and nailed it up over Hook Possum’s bunk with pruny fingers from the suds in the cooking tent. He put a hook where the grommet could lift it away, in case Hook Possum’s struggles with his mask caught on the fabric, and then stepped back to look at his handiwork just as Robin wandered in.

“That’s...really something,” she said, raising his eyebrows. “We all get one of those?”

“No, it’s for the possum guy,” Steve told her, hooking the flag’s bottom corner up to show that the bunk was slightly easier to climb into. “He’s like...contracted to wear the damn thing 24/7. He gets a bonus or something.”

“That’s bullshit. He’s gonna die of heatstroke,” Robin said, and Steve nodded, shrugging.

“That’s what I said.�� Anyway, I told him I’d hide the bunk so he didn’t have to, like, lie there in the costume all night.”

“Playing possum,” she snorted, and Steve grinned, imagining the dude in full possum array, sprawled on his back like roadkill.

“Sexy,” he snorted, and she waggled her eyebrows.

PART ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR

#harringrove big bang #harringrove #monsdasarah #!!!#Amazing arts!#Mistaken identity #Of sorts #Idiots in love

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andypantsx3 · 4 years ago

Text

in cinders | 1 | considerations

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 24,362 words / 9 chapters

summary: You’re just trying to fairy godmother your best friend into a happily ever after. If only the prince would stop hanging around and cooperate.

tags: cinderella AU, prince!Shouto, romance, misunderstandings, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

It was the deep of winter when the castle exploded into preparations. Prince Shouto would have twenty-one winters at the end of the season, and word throughout the servants’ halls was that the king sought him a princess. The castle was overflowing with the appropriate requisitions for a winter masquerade; fanciful game, yards of brightly-colored silks, and all manner of gifts pouring into the palace halls like water burbling from a spring.

You liked looking at the gifts as they piled up the hallways, petting the wild furs and soft silks with a covetous appreciation. Best of all were the books, stacked up in the corridors until they towered in tall, unsteady cliffs. You liked running your fingers over their freshly-inked covers, enjoying the rustle of the pages and the crackling peel of the spines as they opened. You wondered if the prince would ever have time to read all these, wondered what knowledge could be gleaned from their soft pages.

Not that you would find out, seeing as you couldn’t read.

There was, of course, no need for a kitchen girl to know her letters. Your duties included much more enthralling pursuits, like cleaning vegetables and scouring pots, and the very engaging task of fetching hot water for tea and washing. It wasn’t as if the mop and bucket would ask you to recite your alphabet.

The work did come with its benefits, however. You spent a fair amount of time smuggling pastries into your skirts to be delivered later to all your palace favorites; Hagakure in the laundry room, and Ashido in the cramped workrooms of the seamstresses’ offices which were always spilling with bright fabrics and delicate threads. You occasionally snuck a sweet cake into the hands of Denki Kaminari as he patrolled the courtyards, brimming with good cheer.

The major benefit of your work, however, was that it left plenty of time for gossip with your best friend Ochako.

Which is what you were doing the morning where it all started.

“Can you imagine?” Ochako asked, bouncing a little and accidentally slopping water over the sides of her bucket. “What it must be like to go to a ball!”

You side-eyed her. You didn’t have to imagine, considering you had been wrangled into carrying plates at the last mid-winter ball. Balls were, in your opinion, just an excuse for nobility to get drunk and behave badly. Last time, you’d nearly run yourself dry spitting in every goblet you ferried to Duke Shishikura’s table after overhearing his remarks on the shape of another serving girl’s backside.

Still, you hated to discourage her.

“It sounds great, Ochako,” you said, hoisting your own water bucket against your hip and spinning to return to the castle, “it must be a lot of fun.”

She scrambled after you. “All those handsome men and pretty dresses!” she said, “I’d wear a pink one, floofy like Lady Yaoyorozu does. With little pink ribbons on it.”

You could picture her, the rosy hue of her dress matching her always pink cheeks, spinning circles in a ballroom.

“And dancing!” she exclaimed, catching you up and bumping her shoulder against yours. “I wish I knew how to dance. Those girls always look so elegant when they twirl like that. How do they know where to put their feet?”

She continued as the two of you passed into the shadow of the castle courtyard, ducking into a small door to the servants’ halls, “And the food! We work all month preparing for the feast, it would be so nice to eat some of it!”

Now that you could get behind. Weeks out, provisions had already begun to arrive and you’d caught yourself mooning over the sweet nuts and berries, the colorful spices imported from the border kingdoms. You’d have to be more careful with how much food you pilfered this time around, as plenty of servants were sure to be doing the same.

“I’d bet it’s amazing,” you conceded. “I would eat a thousand platefuls and spend the whole evening by the refreshments.”

Ochako laughed. “You wouldn’t dance?”

The two of you turned into the large, drafty passageway that led into the main kitchens.

“I’d leave that to you,” you said, grinning. “You’d be the most beautiful girl at the ball, in your pink fluffy skirts. Your dance card would be full within minutes.”

A snort, echoing in the open passage, startled you. You whirled, finding Kamiko Ito behind you.

“Maybe if she was the only woman under sixty in attendance,” Kamiko quipped.

You glowered. Though she looked just like an angel with her glossy hair, big eyes, and full mouth, Kamiko was bad news. She was a chambermaid, one level above you in the servants’ hierarchy, and she never failed to make you feel it. She wielded her station like a sharpened sword, needling at you--though mostly Ochako--simply for the pleasure of seeing someone bleed.

“Fuck off, Kamiko,” you growled, moving to block Ochako from her view.

“Feeling brave today, are we, Y/N?” she hissed. “I would hate for the housekeeper to find out you’ve been running your mouth again.”

You grit your teeth. The last time the housekeeper had caught you swearing at Kamiko, you’d been lashed three times and given a week of extra duties, swilling the floors with lye long after the other servants had gone to bed and scraping the ashes out of the kitchen fireplaces. You’d spent the better part of the week with soot staining your cheeks and layering in your hair - too tired to even wash up before falling straight asleep the moment you made it back to your bed.

“Leave Ochako alone,” you groused, hating the way your voice forced itself into a more medial tone. You’d only just gotten all the soot out of your pillowcase and blanket.

Kamiko smirked. “Or what, cinders?”

Fortunately, you were saved from responding by the sound of heavy glass breaking in the kitchens beyond. You wheeled around, taking Ochako by the arm and dragging her into the kitchens.

“Y-your highness!” The cook’s normally deep voice was reaching a squeaky register you’d never heard him hit before. Rikido Sato was normally placid and calm, only ruffled when a dessert didn’t turn out the way he’d wanted. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Over Rikido’s burly shoulder, you could see the tall, lean form of Prince Shouto Todoroki, looking entirely out of place in the chaos of the palace kitchens. Beside him, his tousle-haired attendant Izuku Midoriya glanced around brightly, as though cataloguing every detail before him.

At Rikido’s feet, the shattered remains of a pitcher littered the floor.

You set your bucket down and moved to get a broom, going to your knees in front of Rikido to swipe the shards into a dust pan.

“My apologies for startling you,” the prince spoke in a deep, even tone. Even from your angle at Rikido’s feet, you could see how much more handsome he’d become since the last time you’d spotted him.

Having spent most of your life in service at the castle, you’d seen plenty of the young prince. Most of your sightings had been during his gangly teen years, when he’d spent the majority of his time out in the courtyards, learning the swords and the bow from the guardsmen. He'd trained hard for someone who - it was rumored - could bring down an entire fortress with the deadly combination of fire and ice magic that roiled within him. It was clear now that he’d grown plenty in the years since, his form broad-shouldered and strapped with lean muscle, hinting at the promise of power. The only admission to the boy he’d been before was that distinctive mop of red and white hair, his piercing heterochromatic eyes, and the scar that circled his left eye like one half of a masquerade mask.

“I came to make a request for the ball,” Prince Shouto continued, “for those cold noodles you served at the summer festival. You, ah--you don’t usually make them in the wintertime, so I thought…”

He trailed off, looking uncomfortable. He’d probably never had to ask for anything in his life before.

Rikido swept into a hasty bow, almost knocking straight into you as you climbed to your feet. “Anything, your highness! We will be sure to serve cold soba at the feast!”

The prince’s gaze flicked over you as you stumbled back behind Rikido, dustpan clutched in your hands. Beyond him, Midoriya seemed caught on something behind your left shoulder, mouth agape a little. You glanced quickly behind you, finding Ochako, eyes fixed resolutely to the kitchen floors, pink deepening her already rosy cheeks.

“Thank you,” the prince said, slowly. “You must be quite busy already. I shall take my leave.”

He leaned forward, executing a bow, though not nearly as deep the one Rikido still held. With that, he turned and swept from the room, his green haired valet hobbling alongside him to keep up.

Even after his exit, a ringing silence muffled the kitchens. It was likely that many of the servants here had never even seen their prince before, as royalty rarely made their way into the cramped passages and drafty rooms of the servants’ quarters. Even you could admit that Prince Shouto must be overwhelming to look at for the first time if one had not had the experience of seeing him as an awkward teen.

His very presence was latent with quiet command, and he was so very handsome.

“My god, he is so very handsome,” Ochako squeaked from behind you.

You turned to her. Her cheeks were still flush with pink and her water bucket was loose in her arms like she’d almost forgotten it was there.

Rikido finally swept out of his bow to look at her, and you laughed.

“He’s something, alright.”

Ochako blushed even deeper. “His eyes! And that hair - so ruffled. I wonder if it’s as soft as it looks.”

You thought back to the prince. His hair had seemed orderly enough to you, maybe a little windswept from the cold, but to each their own, you guessed.

Before you could respond, Kamiko swanned her way into the kitchens, bumping Ochako as she passed. “Not that you’ll ever find out, kitchen wench.”

She strode off, button nose pointed in the air, so much like the ladies whose rooms she cleaned. You felt an irritation rise within you as you watched her retreating figure. Where did a mere servant even get such a high and mighty attitude?

Ochako let out a heavy sigh. “I suppose she’s right. What business would I even have with him? He’s so far above me.”

Your notorious temper flared a little hotter at that. Kamiko was a toad. Ochako was sweet and kind, and deserved anything she wanted, whether it was a pink fluffy dress and an evening at the ball, or her soft-haired fantasy prince. You had no doubt that given an opportunity to speak with her, Prince Shouto would fall all over himself for her pink-cheeked charm. Any man would be lucky to be spared a moment of her time.

You gave her a considering look as you picked up your water bucket, and she stared back nervously. There might be a way to get her her evening at the ball. If you played your cards right, there might even be a way to get her her prince.

In your mind, a plan began to form.

You were going to teach Kamiko a lesson, even if you had to bathe in cinders to get there.

#fanfic #todoroki shouto #todoroki x reader #bnha #todoroki shouto x reader #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader

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honeypirate · 4 years ago

Text

Just In Case

Part two

Pro hero Bakugou x fem pro hero reader

in my world Recovery Girl lives forever and trains another who can replace her when she retires who she passes the hero title of recovery girl too.

Anyway on to the story that’s probably not as good as I want but oh well.

Warning- angst. Death. Blood. Ya know the works.

Inspiration- Murder In the City // The Avett Brothers

You write a letter every day. A new one so it stays relevant. Every morning you took ten minutes to quickly write out a letter just in case anything bad happens while you’re at work.

You see, being a hero isnt all rainbows and butterflies and ranks. Sometimes it’s boring. But other times, it’s scary and horrifying. Those days where you barely make it out on top because the villains were crafty.

After one hard therapy session filled with worries and tears, your therapist suggested letters. At least one. To your husband. Just in case.

This morning wasn’t different than your last, you can hear your husband in his office across the hall, humming a song you listened to at dinner the previous night. He made your heart happy with everything he did, minus the way he left his used teeth floss sticks on the counter or the way he could be a little loud.

Every morning you write this letter, periodically meeting his eye through your open doors and he’d wink, making you laugh and stick your tongue out.

Today you watched as he moved, methodical, he’s done this every morning and it shows but he still takes care with every movement.

“Are you ready?” He says as he crosses the hallway “we’re needed in half an hour so we should go soon” you smile at him and somethjng settles in your stomach. Something heavy and uncomfortable. Something wrong.

“Yeah I’m almost done” you say and he watches as you fold your letter and place it in an envelope, writing his name followed by ‘just in case’ then sticking it in your top drawer.

The letters he’s been told about. The letters he supports. He’s actually been writing his own to you as well but you both agreed that you can’t read then unless it’s actually happening.

You try to not focus on the hard substance in your stomach or the way it seems to ache. It’s a bad feeling but sometimes your anxiety could cause them for no reason so you tried not to pay too much attention to it.

“Ready” you say softly, pulling down your hero mask to press your lips to his for a moment. He helps you readjust your mask with a pink flush in his cheeks. You’ve been married for years but making him blush is as easy as it was day one.

(Skippy skip)

The villains were smart, drawing all the heroes to different locations. You were climbing the stairs of an abandoned building, going to see if the intel about a bomb on the third floor was true, which unfortunately, it was.

Your hands hovered over the bomb, using your electric quirk to cancel out the wires and stop the timer. A scuffing sound catches your attention and you’re dodging a metal rod that was thrown at you to only be stabbed by one from a different direction.

The villain could control metal with his quirk, throwing the rod at you from one direction when he was coming from a different side. “Huh” you say softly as you look down at the rod through your stomach, the pain not even registering yet. “Poor unfortunate hero.” He lifts you by the metal rod and you scream, white hot pain shooting through you as it tears your abdomen as he slams you into the ground, pushing the rod further through you until it connects to the concrete floor.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay long. I have a hot date later” he says as he restarts the bomb, placing it farther from you so you couldn’t reach it with your powers, then he’s hopping from the third story window and waving at you with a smirk.

Your hand flies to your ear piece “There’s a bomb! Third floor tallest abandoned building in the-“ and that’s all you can get out before the bomb goes off and the building is collapsing.

The area was covered in dust and smoke, ash falling from the sky. You ripped your mask off trying to get more air into your lungs but it didn’t help that a giant piece of concrete was crushing your right arm and part of your ribs and chest, not to mention you’re still attached to the rod.

“Bakugou” you say through your headpiece, coughing up blood and ash “where are you?” He shouts back “the bomb” you muttered back and it sounded wheezy, you could hear the fluid in your lungs. You heard more explosions before he was appearing right beside you.

“Hey there hot stuff” you say and chuckle softly as he brushes the dust out of your hair “I’ll get you out of here. You’ll be okay” he’s saying but his eyes are filling with tears and his brows are knit. “It’ll be okay” you say but he does not look in your eyes. He’s still fretting, trying to think of how to save you.

“Bakugou.” You say in a commanding voice and he looks at you “you’ll be okay” you whisper, your blood covered lips smiling gently. You reach up with your left hand and cup his cheek, brushing away the hot tears that have started to fall. “You’ll be okay” you say again, your voice sounding weaker “no” he whispers “no. I’ll save you. You’ll be fine. I’ll get you help” kirishima is in your headpiece, telling you how he’s sent first responders your way but you can’t hear him.

Your voice is quiet, your hand going limp and falling from his cheek “You are the best part of me”

He doesn’t know where he’s going. He left the police station and was just walking. He couldn’t go home. Not when it was your home too. Not when he knows he’ll just be reminded of you and how you smiled at him this morning. How he woke up to you kissing his neck. How that will never happen again.

Walking into the office he didn’t bother with any of the lights. He puts in his alarm code and numbly makes his way to your office.

If you’re reading this. That means I’ve died.

Oh god I’ve always hated these letters. It’s so dramatic. I’m going to be okay. I have to be.

But just in case, since were up against major villains every day, I’ll write this letter. The 54th I’ve written so far.

Anyway I would regret not saying anything if it was my last day alive. I know I’m going to go home tonight and hold you, kiss you, and spend it like it was my last. This won’t be different than the last 53 letters I’ve shredded.

But. Life is short. It’s short and before you know it it can be snuffed out like a candle in the wind. So here we go.

If I get murdered in the city tomorrow, don’t go revenging in my name. A person dead from such is plenty, no need to go get locked away. I know you’ll blame yourself and get mad and swear revenge. Bakugou I love you. Let go of the hate and the rage. All I want is you to be happy and you to be okay.

But there’s no need to get over alarmed, I’m coming home I know it.

(His tears start to hit the paper, hot big tears blotting the ink and making it hard to see. )

So if tomorrow is my last day. Ill leave this letter in my desk.

Don’t bother with my belongings. Things never really mattered to me, you know that. Donate them. Burn then. Whatever you want.

Tell my sister that I love her. That I’m sorry if she ever doubted that.

I wonder what my parents will say. Probably that they were proud of me. Please let them know how much I loved them. How much I loved my childhood.

Now for you, my love, my sweetheart. The love of my life I’m sure of it. There was nothing worth sharing like the love that let us share our name. The love that let me share your name for these few years.

Thank you. For loving me. For supporting me. For choosing me every day. I’ve never doubted it once. I’ll always be with you, even if you can’t see me.

I'm watching you in your office right now, youre humming that song that played at the restaurant last night.

If I had never seen your face this world would have been such a very different place for me. It would be quieter and colorless. You have truly given me so much in this life that I can never hope to repay you.

You can never know which way your heart will go, but you are the compass leading mine. It will always point to you.

You’ve made me feel alive made me want to live so I could experience all my dreams coming true with you by my side.

I don’t know what else to add

Please, if you know anything, let it be that you were my greatest happiness in life.

I’ll always come home to you

I love you

-y/n

His hand is shaking as he finishes the letter.

He takes a sharp inhale and his knees give out, falling to the floor beside your desk with a soft gasp that turned into a sob as he broke down.

“You. You promised” he whispered between sobs, not even bothering to wipe away the tears as he hugs his arms around himself, hunching forward as his tears make soft patting sounds as the hit the hard wood floor.

He doesn’t know how Kirishima found him but when he runs through the office and sighs with relief when he finds him, he doesn’t move. He stays, broken on the floor, sobbing. Kiri doesn’t freeze, he’s there in a second, wrapping his arms around his best friend. Trying to give him a little comfort.

Kirishima's phone rings and Bakugou growls, taking it from his hand as kiri goes to silence it, pressing answer without looking to see who it is “what” he yells out, his nose stuffy and throat constricted showing how much he’s been sobbing.

Recovery Girls voice is stern through the receiver “You need to get down here right away. She’s alive.”

#bakugou katsuki fanfiction #bakugou angst #mha bakugou #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou x you #bakugou x fem!reader #bnha bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x reader #pro hero bakugou #my hero academia fanfiction #mha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n

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messrmoonyy · 3 years ago

Note

35 for sylki on that touching list. Please

Ah, another prompt I tell myself I’ll keep short then go off on a tangent for that is you squintttt you’ll see the prompt lmao. Anywho. Enjoy my sweet anon.

I’m gonna start posting these requests to my AO3 too if you prefer to read there!

Prompt from this list

Prompt: kissing their bruises and scars

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Sylvie Laufeydottir

Warnings: mentions of injury, mild language

Check my masterlist for all my other writing, requests are always open for prompts from lists or not!

Finding Sylvie again had been just as difficult as Loki had imagined. She’d spent her entire life hiding from people and only letting them find her when she needed them for something. And amongst the madness of new timelines popping up by the second…. It was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. But Loki had been determined. In fact it had been his one and only point of negotiation when Stephen Strange had caught up to him, agreeing to work with him and fix the mess… only if they could locate Sylvie first.

He wasn’t sure she’d even want to see him. She’d cast him through a time door after all. But he believed he understood her reasons, her motives. She had spent her entire life looking for the man behind the mask, the person in charge of the TVA, the reason she’d been plucked out of Asgard all those years ago. And she’d finally found him. There was no way she was going to simply walk away from that. So he kept looking for her, determined to find her and hoping his thoughts were correct.

Though she didn’t seem to want to be found. Every trail they found ran cold, but there was always a little something that made Loki know she’d been there. So maybe, just maybe, she was waiting for him after all. Leaving him clues but needing to keep moving. Situations on some timelines were getting rough and he found his fear peak everytime he found a trace of her, wondering if she was hurt. She had survived in apocalypses, he knew she could take care of herself. But this was something else.

Loki felt himself almost waiting for Stephen to tell him they weren’t going to look any longer, that clearly she had fled and wasn’t planning on coming back. But he held up his end of the bargain and Loki helped him regain order on some of the timelines they came across, looking for Sylvie in the process.

Though as time went on and Loki lost track of the amount of timelines they had crossed, he could feel his hope beginning to slip. Only still going forward on pure stubbornness alone. Stubbornness to not want to lose someone he loved again. He’d lost everyone he loved up until this point. Frigga was dead. Thor believed him to be dead. Mobius didn’t even know who he was anymore. He had no friends. No family. Just her. Just Sylvie. His Sylvie. So he would remain stubborn and keep searching for her.

And stubbornness clearly payed out.

“ as far as I can tell there’s no Kang variant here. We should be safe for now. But don’t get too comfortable “ Loki looked around the planet they had arrived on. He got the strangest sense of de Ja vu as he looked at the small village in front of him “ this planet seems peaceful enough but nothings usually peaceful for long anymore “

“ where are we may I ask? “

“ planet called… Lamentis-1. It’s completely wiped from existence in a few hundred years time. That’s probably why Kang had no use for it and left it alone “ Loki wanted to laugh to himself, of all the planets. All the timelines. They had to end up there.

“ she won’t be here “ he was still balancing on the knifes edge of wondering if whether or not she hated him or not. And if she did, she wouldn’t go back to Lamentis. The place their connection was established. The place he felt that shift in his chest by the lake. Had she felt that too? Had her heart dropped deep into the pit of her stomach as she sat there holding his hand, looking at him as if he were put on the earth solely for her? had she felt that too?

Or had he simply over reacted about the entire thing, his purely desperate need for affection simply clawing it’s way out in the fear of his impending demise?

“ well we’re here. So. Let’s look around I’m not wasting my time “ Loki gave a nod and followed him through the village. He remembered passing through there with her, but it had been deserted before. The neon sign he had ‘foolishly’ suggested she tried to charge the tempad with, was glowing brightly by the side of the road. It made his head hurt and he turned away, suddenly feeling too bright for his eyes, instead looking at the people that didn’t know their planet would be nonexistent in a few hundred years. At least those on it now would be long dead by then.

“ why did you think she wouldn’t be here? “ Stephen asked as he dodged a man carrying a large stack of boxes of some exotic looking fruit. Loki hesitated for a moment and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“ I er- we. We have been here before. Myself and Sylvie “ Stephen glanced over at him as if silently probing for more information “ when I first met her… we escaped the TVA and I accidentally brought us here. Right on the day the aforementioned ‘wiping from existence’ happened to be in full swing. We were very nearly wiped out with it “ if he thought hard enough he could remember every moment of that day. Right down to the smell of the ash that filled his nose, the feel of the soft seats on the train, Sylvies fingers on his neck in her attempt to enchant him.

He shook his head slightly to free himself from the thoughts.

“ our… ‘ connection’ was first established here. It created a rapid branch on the timeline. The TVA showed up right before a chunk of rock could take us down “ Stephen hummed slightly in understanding and then came to a stop.

“ then you might have an idea of where she would go if she were here? “ the lake. His head told him immediately though he knew it was stupid. She might still hate him, why would she go back to such a place? But… he guessed it was worth a try.

After telling Stephen his hunch they stepped through one of his portals, much more simple than the previous trek he and Sylvie had made across the planet.

He stepped out of the glowing ring, coming to an immediate halt. Partially because the lake looked a lot more beautiful when it wasn’t being destroyed by parts of a planet. But mainly because there was a woman stood there at the edge of the water. He knew it was her simply by her hair and the same black leather outfit she’d had when he last saw her. Even if it was a little more ragged looking now.

“ Sylvie “ he practically gasped her name, shock and relief washing over him at the thought he’d finally found her. The woman froze stiff for a moment before turning around quickly, arm outstretched with a sword pointed towards him. Her face was bruised, her lip split in one corner, blood dried around her nose and a gash through her eyebrow. She looked a mess quite frankly.

But it was her. It was her. Sylvie. No mistaking. Even under the purple of her bruises. He’d not forget a face like hers, he’d been dreaming of it for.. how long had it even been since he’d last seen her? He wasn’t sure.

“ Sylvie “ he tried again, more confident and strong than before “ I’m not going to hurt you. It’s okay “ her eyes were wild, filled with confusion and fear and she didn’t drop her sword “ Sylvie “

“ How do you know my name? “ her voice was the same, If a little hoarse. Exhausted. How long had it been since she’d slept properly? Drank? Ate? He wanted to scoop her into his arms and take her back to the sanctum sanctorum, protect her from what ever had caused her harm.

“ you told me it yourself. Right here on this planet, granted it was a few hundred years ahead of now. It’s me, truly “ he racked his brains for a few moments to think of some way to prove it to her then remembered what was in his pocket. He carried it around with him everywhere just in case he finally found her. His TVA tie. She’d only ever known him in his increasingly grubby TVA uniform. So he assumed it was a good place to jog her memory of him.

He raised his hands in a surrender, the tie in his hand, before taking a few more steps closer.

“ close enough “ she grumbled when he was close enough to be only a few centimetres from the end of her outstretched sword.

“ alright. I understand “ he lowered his hand slowly and draped the tie over her sword. She took a sharp in take of breath at the sight of it, holding it in her hand and looking as if she might cry “ I’ve been looking for you. For a long. Long time “

“ why “

“ because I- “ he cut himself off with a short sigh, deciding now was not the time for him to be making deep proclamations of his love for her. Not when she had a sword pointed at him “ I wanted to make sure you were okay “ he opted for instead.

“ I sent you away “ she said, her eyes darting up to meet his. Clearly she didn’t believe him.

“ to the TVA. A place you believed me to me safe, back to my friend “ he wasn’t sure if he was totally believing that himself as he said it, more so using it as a way to see if that was truly what she’d done. Or if she had just pushed him across space and time to get him out of her way. Kissed him as a mere distraction.

“ but you’re not safe. You’re here “ he nodded again and chanced another tentative step towards her.

“ things are a little… complicated. But we have a safe place. So just come with me, you’ll be safe now Sylvie. Stephen- “ he nodded backwards to where he was still stood observing the two of them “ - is helping us fix our mess “

“ our? “ she croaked, her eyes welling up. It was breaking his heart to look at her in such a distraught manner.

“ yes. Our “ she dropped her sword then and fell into his arms, clutching at him as if he were a lifeline. And he guessed, from the looks of her, he probably was. He held her back just as tightly, trying his best to voice to her that she was safe now. She was home now.

“ we should get back “ Stephens voice attempted to break their moment but Loki refused to let her out of his grasp. He placed a kiss to the top of her head and then shuffled around her slightly so that his arm was tightly around her back, never letting any points of contact drop. To his mild surprise she let him help her walk through the portal, leaning into him slightly and trying and failing to hide a limp in her leg. He’d almost expected her to bark her orders that she could very much walk on her own. But she didn’t.

If fact she was quite quiet after that. Not speaking a word as Loki explained where they were now and that it was safe, talking to her like one would talk to a scared child. He felt as if that was what she’d needed. He didn’t expect she’d had much comfort in her life and he was more than happy to offer it to her now. She didn’t protest when he suggested they get her cleaned up, or when they did just that and she fumbled with the buckles of her leathers and he silently went over to help her. She looked even smaller and afraid without her armour, just the torn undershirt and her trousers.

She was still uncharacteristically quiet as he went to work cleaning her wounds. Sitting her down on the edge of his bed and wiping away the dust and debris of wherever it was she had been. She was Asgardian after all and had her own magic flowing through her veins, so most of her smaller wounds had already began to heal themselves. Though he found a few that were a little worse and silently patched her up.

“ I’m sorry “ she said as Loki finished up, so quietly he wasn’t even sure he’d heard her correctly at first “ I’m so. So sorry Loki “ he looked up at her to see her eyes already on him, tears spilling down her cheeks. Loki reached out for her, his hand cusping her cheek, his thumb brushing away the tears.

“ what happened to you “ was all he said, still shocked by how much weaker she seemed. So vulnerable. So afraid “ Darling, tell me “ the name fell past his lips before he could stop it, but she simply leaned into his touch more at the name. She was simply as starved for affection as himself.

“ a lot “ she said with a sniffle, closing her eyes and letting out a shaky sigh “ a whole lot of shit” Loki waited for her to continue, getting her to open up wasn’t a particularly easy thing he’d learnt. So he wasn’t about to try and push and break what he’d seemed to be building on now with her “ after I killed him. I thought. I thought I’d feel brilliant. I’d have some magical awakening and feel like I’d finally accomplished what I had to. Some relief. And I did. For the briefest second then I just…. Nothing. Just pure regret and remorse, hit me so hard I felt sick with it “

Her hand came up over his in her cheek, pulling it down into her lap and holding it tightly. He’d noticed she had thing for holding his hand. He wasn’t exactly against it himself, he wanted to contact as much as she did. Needed the contact as much as she did. If he focussed enough he could sense the magic thrumming below her fingertips, he’d always been able to sense magic. But it felt stronger with her.

“ I ran then “ she continued after a few more moments of silence “ only thing I’m good at. I wanted to look for you. Kinda missed having you being a total arse by my side “ he smiled at that, knowing she had missed him too. It hadn’t just been him pining for her after all “ but the timelines…. It’s mental out there now. People trying to take over and growing more powerful everyday…. Plenty of you out there you know. Right evil bastards some of them “

“ they did this to you? “ he questioned. She shrugged. That was a yes then.

“ some of them. Not all as smart as you’d think. Ran rings round them “ she looked up at him then instead of their intertwined hands “ I didn’t think you’d want to find me again… or if you did you’d just want to kill me. Get me back for what I did “

“ I could never. You had your reasons. I understand “ she seemed to hesitate for a moment before her free hand reached up, her fingers gently grazing over his cheek and his jaw.

“ I missed you, you know “ she said softly “ you absolute arse “ he chuckled slightly and his smile grew when one tugged at her own lips.

He couldnt help but think how beautiful she looked, even with the bruises and scrapes littering her skin.

“ you’re staring “ she commented quietly, her fingers creeping closer towards the nape of his neck and toying with the curls of his hair.

“ I am “

“ narcissist “ she teased, clearly returning back to herself again. He preferred it.

“ maybe “ just looking at her was making his chest tighten. He wondered if his past self would have been quite annoyed at him turning to mush about a woman, found the whole thing funny. But he found that he didn’t even care now. Because hisself that lived on the sacred timeline had a different purpose. A different glorious purpose. But his? It was her

“ what are you thinking about? “ she asked quietly and he struggled to find the words to tell her. He’d never been the best at voicing his emotions. Especially something like this.

“ I- Sylvie- “ he cut himself off with a frustrated sigh and she raised an eyebrow at him before pressing gently to the back of his neck, the faint prickle of magic on his skin. He looked at her and understand what she was asking. And for the first time he didn’t block her as she dipped into his mind, let down the walls he used to keep her out and let her swim around through his thoughts. She closed her eyes, focussing on the clearly difficult task of scrambling around inside of his mind. He tried to keep his mind as clear as possible, the one and only simple thought of I love you floating around on the top. And a minute or so later her eyes snapped open again.

She looked at him as if trying to figure out if he was joking or not. There was a moment of silence between them before her fingers at the back of his neck applied pressure again, this time tugging him into her just as suddenly as she had done the first time. All that time ago back in the Citadel.

He’d wanted to be the one to kiss her the second time though he wasn’t complaining. But when she began to pull away he pulled her right back in again, revelling in the way she almost melted against him. She was still tugging at his hair in a way that was almost painful, but it was all very… Sylvie. So he didn’t even mind. His hands were cautious on her, in the way they always had been. Always careful not to touch her unless she wanted him to.

He pulled back from her lips slowly, trying to savour every last millisecond. Then found his lips moving to brush over the purple bruises that were littered across her face, the cut that sliced her brow, following the landscape of injury over her pale features and down her neck. He finished with a lingering kiss to a fresh scar on her shoulder, having touched every mark of hurt and hatred he could see with love. Every angry moment replaced with a tender one, shifting slightly then so his forehead rest against her shoulder.

She turned her head to the side, nuzzling her nose into his hair, her hand sliding up to cusp the back of his neck again and hold him in place. Neither of them spoke for a few moments longer, not really needing to. Just holding each other, being thankful to finally be back by the others side.

He lifted his head after a few minutes pressing his forehead to hers instead, his thumb brushing across her tear stained cheek.

“ I promise you, with all my heart, that I won’t let anyone hurt you again “

#messrmoonyy writes #I wasn’t going to post today because I was in suu a down mood bc of Helen. but writing makes me happy so. yeah #Loki tv #Loki #loki laufeyson #sylvie laufeydottir #sylki #sylki fanfic #loki x sylvie #marvel #mcu #one shot #pro sylki

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 4 years ago

Text

It’s The Avengers (03x14)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 3 Episode 14: It’s Not What It Looks Like

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: ehehehehehe

Word Count: my anxiety was through the roof this time. and that too on the thing that I know was not achievable. But noooo my boss just wants results. Well, fuck you and your boss who gave me anxiety. You will know the pain of these tears soon.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

The familiar sports car shining in its red shade came to a halt right outside the door for Tony to get out and greet the lone camera covering him. "How's it going fellas?" He seemed comparatively chirpier than the last few days as he whistled his way to the boot of the trunk to take out five boxes of large pizzas along with a whole bag filled with soda and side dishes. "It's pizza party today, my lovely unicorn," he announced to the camera person; mostly because there was no one else in his vicinity.

Tony: *standing next to his car* I have come realise that I have been a bit hard on my team because of the anxiety I've been feeling ever since Y/N disappeared from right in front of me. Like last Monday. *camera switches to the video recording of Last Monday* Tony is seen in the kitchenette making detox juice for himself after a workout. Sam comes and grabs the coffee pot, looking around for a mug to pour himself some. The only mug hanging on the stand is your Brooklyn Nine-Nine themed one. "Well," he mutters to himself, "no one's using this for a while." Just as he finishes the sentence, Tony's hand slips on the juicer switch and the green spill out everywhere in the space, making Sam yell for help. "You are excluded from my will," Tony announces while looking dead into Sam's eyes before pouring the coffee from his pot into the sink and walking away. *back to present* Tony: Pepper says I went overboard but Sam didn't have to say that now did he. *makes a cringe face* Anyways. This is my way of showing them that I have made peace with the situation for now and that I trust our alien friends to get my daughter back to me asap.

Tony walked into the facility to be greeted by dead silence. "Did I miss something?" he wondered out loud for the camera while looking around the lobby and the waiting area. "I am pretty sure we were not supposed to go out anywhere thanks to that stubborn virus." He walked up the elevator to be greeted by Clint coming back from the security room with his self-regulated watch, carrying two glasses of iced Americanos- one of which he offered Tony. "Pizza-" he seemed happy to see the boxes, taking the bag from Tony- "what's the occasion? Are you firing one of us? Is there a budget cut because of the 'Rona? In that case, just know that I spot a person without a mask from miles. And I can end them right there." Tony pressed the button for the lounge and waited for the camera to record his wink and smile till the doors closed to let the other handy camera in the elevator- following Clint- take over. Clint did a survey of the bag and was quite content with the contents. Tony, still with his glasses on, walked his usual walk that displayed well that he owned the place. "No one's getting fired unless they are eating my choco-chip ice cream." "You have set the bar pretty low." "It's pretty much up to the expectations I have from you all."

Clint shrugged and went on to agree with him, walking behind the Iron Man as the elevator dinged. The camera followed Clint and Tony out to film the scene unfolding in the Lounge. Manoeuvring away from their shoulders, the camera caught that deadpan silence in the room filled with nearly every Avenger staring at the screen with the seriousness of defusing a bomb that may go off any time. Peter was hiding under Scott's arm, peeping at the screen through his hands while Scott was biting his nails, nervousness dripping from his forehead. Wanda held Vision's hand while she muttered something under her breath- most probably a chant. Sam seemed to have forgotten he was watering the plants for the water-can was already empty and yet he still went on to pour the contents while his eyes were glued to the screen. Bucky's hands were busy brushing Zuko's fur- while the pupper took this opportunity to lay in his lap and snooze- monotonously, his gaze too stuck on the screen. "Come on, come on. Do it," Steve muttered while on the edge of his seat on the sofa. The camera swivelled back to Clint and Tony- both of whom had confused looks on their faces by now. Both of them turned to the screen in sync to witness what exactly was it that had all of them in such a grim state. And it was something like this.

On the screen was a barely lit space that seemed like it could have been a small closet under somebody's staircase. In that barely lit space, you could be seen from your abdomen up. There you were, panting, sweating, your hair a literal mess, your bra strap dangling out of your tank top's straps. "Again," you panted, wiping the sweat beads from your forehead while positioning your hands on a surface where the camera was seemingly recording you from. And in that same dim light, a movement was discovered behind you. That movement was of the exposed muscles and skin that the viewers had never seen in their daily life. Well, neither had they seen that very person pant and sweat like this before as well. Green eyes shined in that bare light, as the familiar face came out from the shadows to apparently hover just above your shoulder. One pale hand was used to remove those clammy hair strands coming in his way before both arms mimicked your position and came to rest on either side of your arms. "Are you sure?" Loki's voice, breathless and heavy, questioned you with sincerity while his body did not budge from behind you. You nodded. "Again." The frame caught you adjusting your hips to position your butt right with his front- something that was not covered by the camera. He towered over you, adjusting to your height while grounded his arms on the surface. "Okay then," he whispered, taking one arm to move your butt a little closer to your frame before going back to anchor himself to the surface, "here we go."

The iced Americanos created a crackle and bang louder than expected- thanks to the already looming silence- when they hit the floor. The pizza box and other snacks? Not so much. Every other person jumped where they were to turn and watch the colours from Tony and Clint's faces drain away by the second, their jaws unhinged, their hearts at a pause and their lungs just no longer working. Steve- the only one in the room to have deciphered what had just gone down in those Dad brains- got up and raised his arms till his chest as of sign of caution. "It's not what you think. Tony, Clint it's not-" The elevator dinged and out came Natasha and Bruce with four feet long bags of Cheetos and popcorn, the former quite excited to rush out into the Lounge. "We found the snacks from the pantry! Did we miss something? Did they put it in yet?" Steve winced just as Bruce blurted out those words. Tony was already heaving audibly, no air going into his lungs as he nearly collapsed on the floor if not for Natasha holding him up like she was used to it. Clint, on the other hand, had 'disgusted' written all over his face, judging every single person in the room before storming out. "OH MY GOD!!!! OH MY GAAAAA~" the screams could be heard from outside while the camera zoomed in on Natasha's face- already bored and tired.

Natasha: If they had more than one working brain cell they wouldn't have fought like twelve-year-olds in the middle of an airport and then stopped talking for a whole year. *camera pans in on her face* *faces the camera* And to think they can procreate. .

One Hour Ago Eight Hours Earlier In A Galaxy Far Away One of the camera drones stepped over a stone wall and passed over a dozen guards, buzzing its best to enter the first window it could find. Passing over ogres guarding the small galleries, another drone accompanied the first one down the maze of hallways, parting at the stairway leading down to the dungeons and up to the meeting room. The way to the dungeons was one dark path that only lit up at the very end of the hallway- few lamps burning with constant flickers. The space was divided into walls and covered with iron bars. A few of these cells were empty while others housed creatures who are only spoken about with the name of their shadows. In the last cell was a shadow that seemed similar to that of a human sleeping under the lone ragged excuse of a blanket. If one tried to focus, they could hear light snores coming out of that creature too. The drone came to rest upon one of the iron bars, sending in the live feed to the cameraman behind this whole shebang. The other fly had already found the 'throne room'. The throne- as one could make out with the setting of the hall- was made out of a tree trunk burned till all that was left was an ash-covered dead piece looking up at the sky. The seat was carved right through the middle with one of the ashened branches housing a black adder with red eyes. And in the throne sat the one person no one wanted to see. "Aellae," you mumbled in the most derogatory sense, your eyes wanting to hurt her there and then through the screen in Javier's hand. And lo! Right then the God stepped in the frame, standing in front of the witch with his usual demeanour. Well, that's what it looked like. "Why do you have to bow to her?" You whispered at him a bit viciously. White entered the frame that was recording your end. Looking at the screen he furrowed his brows and wondered how you could tell that. "He stands straight," you stressed, already sensing the question from White, "and right now he is not. And he does not not stand straight for anyone." "I see you have found yourself a fine pair of pets on your galactic travels, my love," you and White hear Aellae from the screen, bringing your attention back to her. "Just a bunch of humans and a kitten to entertain me on my way," he chuckled and shrugged a little, that Asgardian charm resurfacing in his smile. Aellae smirked at him. "On your way to where?" The question had a hint of anger even when she added a wave of curiosity, something that was easy to catch of the one who was listening to layers in her voice. Loki waved his hands in the air. "You know how it is for me. Here and there, always on the move. A nomad exploring the universe." "No more," she announced, her head high, her stare stern, "now you stay with me. You will be my advisor in the day, guiding my army to every corner of this world, with nothing to spare." She got up from her throne to walk an inhumanly seductive gait to reach the God and place her finger under his chin. "And in the night, you shall be my pacifier," she whispered, making your whole face cringe for the camera to zoom into it. "You shall satiate all my bedly desires till I the very. last. drop." Something cracked on the other side, making Javier and White turn in every direction to look at the source of the sound. Lulu too was a bit confused. You were the only person not taking your eyes away from the screen.

You: I swear to God if she was not such a bitch, I would have asked her out. Would have even gone to lengths of being her *makes air quotes* bedfellow if she was not such a fucking bitch?? Javier: *turns the camera to himself with the dazed look on his face* *signs for the camera* I am supportive and all in for this but is now really a good time for her to be questioning her sexuality? When we can literally die for just breathing wrong???

"Now," Aellae snapped everyone back to the screen, "as for those pets of yours, I'll send someone to take care of them. They are just hindrance if nothing more." "Aellae," Loki's honey laden voice was now implying a sternness. "What." "They are not to be given enough importance to be-" Loki sighed and closed his eyes- "taken care of." "All the more fun to watch them die in misery." Her eyes widened with excitement at the thought of murder. "Especially that Midgardian who is living in the illusion of being your friend." Loki's jaw tightened. "If you decide to harm h-them, I will not aid you in your irrational quests, Aellae. Going after those weaklings proves that you are still the reckless stubborn creature that I left you." There wasn't an exclamation of surprise on her face but rather that particular smirk of the devil who has walked its prey right into its trap. "So, she does mean something to you." Loki kept mum. "Guards!" she yelled for the two orcs standing outside, "bring me the head of the woman!" "Aellae, stop," he begged casually. "Enough humour." "And do whatever with the rest of her!" she ordered with her eyes piercing through Loki's soul.

The next thing you know, the last fly drone that got lost on the middle floor somewhere was recording two orcs throwing Loki into a room before shutting the door behind him. His grunts echoed through the room with no windows. All around him were walls coloured in a dusty cream shade, lamps lining up the four walls with one dressing table sitting with one of the four walls, housing heavy chains, the purpose of which Loki did not want to know. He huffed as he stood up, looking at the door before letting his gaze land on those shackles on his wrist that now seemed permanent. The tension on his jaw did not go unnoticed by the tiny roommate before he slammed those bracelets- along with his wrist- into the wall in pure animalistic rage.

Witch's Den- Down the Hall Two orcs stood guard to the entrance coming to the floor via the stairs. One of them seemed to be snoozing with all the pressure sitting on his nose and brows while the other one was trying to drive away this one stubborn fly that kept buzzing around its head. Eventually reaching the threshold of irritation, he followed the fly out towards the stairs, his curved sword being swung into the air to strike the buzzing creature; only to be taken by surprise with a bright source of light. The next thing the fly was recording was the other orc waking up to the clunk of a sword dropping, this one finding gasping and taking an attack position before the camera went dark.

But not for long.

The fly in Loki's room recorded the God catching the sounds outside while he was in the middle of surveying the whole room for an escape route. The grunts and gasps of orcs outside have stopped, making him all the more cautious to the steps that steadily approach the door. He took one of the chains in his hand, with calculated steps, walked towards the door to catch whatever tried to come in next. With the sound of a heavy key twisted inside the keyhole, the wheels turned and the door opened a smidge to let someone in. Without losing even a second, Loki wound the chain around your neck from behind you, nearly choking you. "Not now, dammit!" you choked, trying to free yourself from the hold. "Y/N?" the surprise stirring along with confusion was a new shade on Loki that you would have appreciated any other day. "Wha-what are you doing here?" That God wasn't even able to squeak on realising it was you. The chains came off as fast as they had gone around your neck, giving you room to breathe and widen your eyes in horror. "No! No no no no noooo!!" You ran towards the door as it clunk shut, leaving you to pull at it with all your might to no avail. "The door opens from outside," you groaned with a sob, thumping your head on it with low winces before a tiny realisation hit you hard enough to stop and look back at Loki. "Ow!" He yelled at the hard slap that came for his back, looking at you in simmering confusion. "You could've waited to choke me after we got out, you fucking IDIOT!" The slaps and punches got more vigorous with each word until Loki had to gab your hands with his to stop you from wasting your energy anymore. "And what makes you think coming here was a good idea?" He struggled to keep your writhing form from hurting itself more than him. You were ready to kick him in his shins and you would have absolutely done that if Loki had not shoved you into the wall with him towering over you to restrict any movement of your limbs. The little buzzing drone came to sit over Loki's arm and capture the frame where both of you were flaming with anger and still trying to breathe enough to keep that rage alive. "I'd already told you were on your own," he grunted, his eyes drilling through your soul. "And I'd already told you I am a psychology major. I can see the denial routine from miles away, you stupid blob of six-foot galaxy brain! You think I haven't sacrificed myself to a professor for the sake of my friends?" "...what? Wait. What do mean by sacri-" "Now get off me and find us a way out of here." You pushed him back. Well, at least you thought you did. But he pushed closer to you, shooting emotions of mild surprise in your eyes before you caught yourself slipping. Fortunately, this little drone caught everything in 4K. From the veins popping in Loki's neck to the parted lips and wavering gaze of yours. "This world is not a joke, Y/N. There was a reason you were left behind. And you have done the exact opposite of that which is supposed to keep you alive." It felt as if Loki had to restrain from spilling that anger over the rim. To make that hypothesis true, he punched the wall to dissipate this emotion he did not want to be running him. And there he stood, his head hanging above you in defeat, his eyes closed and his breath wavering. "I was supposed to send you home safe," he was barely able to mutter. The drone focused on your hands coming around his torso, your arms taking as much of his frame in a hug as possible as you softly patted his back and soothed him. Loki's body twitched a little at this new touch, still like a stone before giving in with every wave of your soothing touch. "You're family, idiot. I'm not gonna leave you behind with some crazy bitch that isn't me?" A chuckle resonated through you and then the room. The next moment when you looked at him, he was looking lighter. "Now come on, use your muscles and drill through one of these walls." Raising his good brow, he judged you while tapping his fist casually on the wall. "What exactly do you take me for?" "A cheesy brooder who's all soft inside," you commented without skipping a beat, looking around to find some kind of a loophole in this square room. "Say that outside these walls and watch what this brooder does to you." "Sounds like an invitation," you sang under your breath, tapping the walls. It took a while. A while that was long enough for you to move around the room to come and sit on the lone drawer by the wall, feeling the heat of the room bursting out the sweat in your skin, other than turning your brain into an irritated mush. You groaned while taking off your top and throwing it on the floor. You wanted to cry out loud to blow off some of the unbearable heat but stopped short at the sight of that overcoat coming off. Followed by that black shirt. Muscles. No matter how he moved or what he did, his back lived in that moment to tease you with those muscles. And what was that? Sparkles? No, sweat, glistening in the dim light. Wait, why was it glisten- You looked around and realised the lamps were at their wick's end. "Same," you sighed as you looked back at Loki's back, only to find him turned around to face you. "Oh, Gods!" you jumped down from the drawer with quite the surprise in your eyes. "This is your first time seeing me shirtless?" It almost felt like he was genuinely curious. "What? No! I don't know. That wasn't the-look!" You signalled him to come closer and let your hand hang right above the drawer's top that touched the two corners of the wall. Loki mirrored you and realised it instantly. "That's a cold breeze." He looked at you with pupils expanding wide in that dim lighting. Taking over from there, he tried his best to get a look as to which section of the wall it was coming from. "There's an opening-" he immediately shifted his position to standing parallel to the length of the wall, his hands grounded on the varnished top- "we will have to either pull it-" he tried his best but the structure did not budge- "or push it towards the opening in that section." You got to work as well, standing next to him and giving your end of the small corner a good push that only ended up in failed grunts. "Okay, let's try another way," you inhaled, "I'll push the top, you be the bottom."

The drone was sitting on the drawer now, capturing all those failed attempts from every angle both of you thought possible before you nearly collapsed due to lack of air. "We're are clearly doing something wrong here," Loki huffed, his puffed-up chest, the centre of the camera's frame. You flipped your wet hair to show your tired face in the lone lamp that burned in the room. "There weren't any more of those BDSM chains inside it, were there?" Loki's breathing stopped for a moment. You looked at him for an answer. Both of you moved to open the drawers. The drone captured the disappointment in your own IQ in high definition before watching you both taking them out with nothing but pure spite. "Take a break, I'll try-" "No," you shook your head and wiped the forehead sweat, "let's do it together." Loki wanted you to stop but that you gave him was more than adequate to let anyone know you won't listen right now. "This time you stand behind me and let's use the wall behind as a supp....ort? Wait how is this room looking shorter?" You were looking around in dazed confusion while Loki closed his eyes. "It's not a normal room. Those two walls will keep closing in until..." He didn't have to say more. "Well, then what are we waiting for?" the drop of panic in your high pitched voice was evident as you positioned yourself- putting your palms on the edge. "Come on." Loki came to stand behind you, copying your position, just a bit more charismatically- and with a bit more skin- till he felt your hair come into his mouth. "One, two, three!" This time the push did budge the drawer chest a bit but your strength had been used for that movement of a centimetre. Your breaths almost felt like your lungs were on the verge of crying. "Again," you panted, wiping the sweat beads from your forehead while positioning your hands on a surface where the drone was seemingly recording you from. Loki looked at your back, clearly concerned. This time he used his hand to remove those clammy hair strands coming in his way before both arms mimicked your position and came to rest on either side of your arms. "Are you sure?" Loki's voice, breathless and heavy, questioned you with sincerity while his body did not budge from behind you. You nodded. "Again." The frame caught you adjusting your hips to position your butt right with his front- something that was not covered by the camera. He towered over you, adjusting to your height while grounded his arms on the surface. "Okay then," he whispered, taking one arm to move your butt a little closer to your frame before going back to anchor himself to the surface, "here we go." Both of you had your eyes stuck on the wall with a fiery gaze and an aura that would have burned this place to the ground. His muscles tried to take all that you could not. And just when the grunts were turning into screams, the drawer started to move from its place with a screeching noise. As soon as Loki noticed a decent enough opening in the wall to your and his side, he pushed you and himself in through the opening before the death walls came for your limbs. The drone fly followed. Both of you rolled through what seemed like a tunnel slide through the walls for a minute till that just did not seem to end. It did end though. It ended in a noisy fall of thuds and groans- you on top of him. "You okay?" you winced through your broken voice, not moving a muscle for the fear of breaking something. Also because it was awkward lying over him on your stomach. Loki replied with a quick wince. A ruffle came from next to you. Followed by a lazy groan. Your head turned to the noise. So did Loki's. "You two could have easily waited for another hour." The drone swerved around to bonk into the one that was already there, covering the dungeons. There under the rugged blanket, laid Carol Danvers, looking at the two of you with sleepy eyes. Neither of you knew what to say. She looked at her watch and put her head inside the blanket again. "Five more minutes."

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