#it's nearly 2k and with my decision on the final scene it's probably going to be 3k minimum help this was supposed to be short

[mirrorofliterature]

soft oliver wood hours

"No party," Oliver says, softly. "You're all the company I need."

.

feat. percy on the side being flattered but not recognising this for the love declaration it is because he is oblivious

[valeriestahl]

5, 18, 29

5. What’s a fic idea you’ve had that you will never write?

oh, i'm sure there are tons. there were lots of fics i started, there's very little that i won't at least attempt. if i have an idea and it keeps with me enough, chances are i'll try to write it, whether or not i actually succeed at it.

18. What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic?

oh no, this one's impossible.

weirdly, i'm going to pick this line from one of my first reddie fics, where eddie is looking through everything richie has in his guest room.

The next shelf is jam-packed with vinyl records and cassette tapes, and then there’s a series of CDs that look dinged up around the edges. Some of the vinyl are in pristine condition, folded into perfect plastic cases. It’s mostly movie soundtracks, but they vary wildly. Richie owns some musicals - The Sound of Music stands out, looking so cracked and faded; maybe it’s the one Richie’s parents had when he was a kid, maybe fifty years old at this point. Eddie remembers that even though Richie had a CD player, he liked to use his dad’s turntable, said records just sounded better.

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

i try to never say never but i have a lot of wips i started months or years ago that i'll probably never finish.

here's a couple hundred words from the kratos/freya i apparently nearly wrote 2k of.

Freya was not like Faye.

Kratos bit down on his tongue and glared at Freya. Then, as decisively as he had swung up, he rappelled down the cliffside. Freya took a step back to accommodate him hitting the ground, but her gaze stayed upon him. Kratos grunted again - on purpose, this time, because there was something enticing about watching Freya roll her eyes, her assumptions about his maturity in question - and approached the Mjolnir chest, studying the cliffs around them for any signs of the puzzle. “Not like you to forget loot, eh, brother?” Mimir said from his hip. Kratos tensed, infinitesimally. He had, admittedly, forgotten that Mimir was there. Kratos did not experience humiliation - or rather, it took more than something like this to embarrass him - but he still felt his chest tighten all the same. He did not prefer the way these grown Gods observed him. Freya’s tension, her frayed nerves, only exemplified her ability to read him, and it didn’t seem that Kratos was going to have any luck getting her off his back.

and here's a bit of harry/kim fic that i couldn't get a handle on

Kim bit his lip. “The self-flagellation is one thing. I don’t want to be caught up in whatever methods you’d like to get others involved in.” He turned his head, embarrassed, suddenly, by the thought that caught on the rim on his mouth. “Talk to Jean if you want someone to punish you, I’m sure he’d be pleased.” Harry laughed, hard and loud enough that Kim startled and sat up, cursing under his breath. “Harry,” he snapped, fumbling for the lamp and flicking the switch back on, “what are you talking about?”

and finally, a post-series mirror visitor fic that went too melodramatic but that i wrote 13k of.

Face it! she shouted to herself. She forced her eyes open and sunk into the mirror further. It ate her arm, like a wild animal. She felt her entire body starting to distort as she was absorbed by it. This was it - she could feel it truly, now. She reached in with her other hand - the stumps of her fingers and her wrist disappeared into the glazed surface. She swallowed, hard. Ophelia needed to accept all that she had done, all of the ways in which she was imperfect and undeserving. But she was not, she decided, with fierce certainty, undeserving of being the one to save Thorn.

There are people that love him, and want him back, she told herself. She repeated it in her head. Those who love Thorn and those who love me. They need us both. I must come back with him. 

The mirror soaked her up like water on a sponge. She kept her eyes wide as she let the mirror eat her, and the world, miraculously, inverted as she dove inside. It was not unlike diving into a lake, except it was blazing hot inside the mirror. Her scarf wrapped protectively around her. This was dangerous, and it knew it. Her heart continued to beat hard, thudding in her chest, and then silence overcame her and she disappeared into the mirror.

[avnkin]

THE BET ( jj maybank. )

Chapter 8 - Intoxicating

word count: 2k

warnings: mentions of sex, foul language, alcohol & the usual dash of angst

author’s note: it’s been a while but i’m getting my inspo back finally lmao hope you enjoy this chapter gif is by @heapass also veins oml

series masterlist

You and JJ hadn’t spoken a word to each other after what had happened. You’d just laid silently in his bed, listening to each other’s heavy breaths as you got your heartbeat to slow down from your previous endeavours.

“So what does this mean?” JJ was the first to break the silence as he rolled over to look up at you.

“Uh- i’m not sure, do you want this to mean something?” you hesitantly asked moving down a little so you were at eye level with each other.

“Yeah I do, but I think I may need some time to get over you and Rafe- I just can’t get the image of you two together out of my head”

That sentence made your blood boil, even if you wanted to get back together you weren’t about to let him blame you for everything that went wrong in your relationship.

“JJ are you being serious right now? It’s not like I cheated on you, we were broken up when I kissed Rafe!” you chided getting out of the bed, covering your naked body with his bed sheets.

“I don’t care and I wouldn’t have minded it as much if it had been anyone but Rafe! He’s made all of our lives living hells for the last year- I mean he nearly cost Pope his job! So it’s not because you made out with someone it’s who it was with!” JJ snapped back getting out of bed after you, quickly pulling on his boxers.

“You’re such an asshole! I don’t even know how I thought of getting back together with you!” you retorted hastily walking around the room in an attempt to find your clothes.

Once you finally managed to get fully dressed you went to unlock the door but JJ pulled you back before you could leave.

You quickly snatched your hand out of his grasp not giving him a chance to talk “give me a call once you’ve decided to stop being a self absorbed asshole” you grumbled slamming his bedroom door shut in his face.

You stormed out of the chateau still adjusting your clothes, when Kiara pulled into the driveway with Pope and John B, perfect timing.

“Hey-“ Pope started but was cut off by you crashing into his shoulder as you stormed past your three clueless friends.

“What was that about” Pope questioned turning to Kiara and John B who stood there, bewildered at your sudden outburst.

“Fuck” Kiara mumbled once she remembered the reason you’d been here in the first place, practically running into the chateau to find JJ.

“What the hell happened!?” Kiara shrieked as she pushed open the door into JJ’s room who just shook his head and let himself fall down onto his mattress.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” he shrugged her off not bothering to look up at her.

“Don’t give me that bullshit JJ, I drove Y/N here earlier so you two could make up and then I see her practically crying running out of here so what happened!”

“It didn’t work out alright! We’re not getting back together and we’re not gonna be friends again, okay!?”

“was that your decision or hers?” Kiara countered.

“Hers! or- I mean I just told her that it would take time to get over the thing with Rafe and she just lost it!”

“JJ are you kidding me? You dated her for a bet and she was able to forgive you for that and you’ve got the audacity to be mad at her for something she did when you were broken up! Come on JJ you’re better than that”

“But its Rafe-“ Kiara quickly cut him off.

“I know! Do you think I like the fact she chose him of all guys to be with? But she was hurting because she thought that the guy she really wanted was only with her for money, you both need to sort your shit out because this is getting really tiring for all of us” she spoke gesturing towards her, Pope and John B who stood in silence behind her clearly taken aback by her words.

JJ scoffed not bothering to respond simply pulling a shirt over his head and walking past the three pogues towards the front door.

“You’re just gonna leave?” Kiara chided following after him “yeah I am” he replied coldly before slamming the door shut in her face.

Tears were furiously running down your cheeks as you walked the road down the cut that lead to figure 8.

Deciding to walk home maybe hadn’t been the brightest idea you had, it was so hot you thought you were going to pass out but you refused to spend another minute with JJ.

A sudden honk from behind you made you jerk around, only picking up your pace when you saw Wards all to familiar jet black Range Rover, not needing to guess twice as to who was sat in the drivers seat.

“Y/N?” Rafe leaned out the window as he pressed on the break just enough so he was able to drive alongside you.

“Go away” you replied curtly beginning to walk even faster although you knew your chances of outrunning a car were not in your favor.

“Come on Y/N let me drive you home you’re gonna melt out here in this heat” he sounded sincere his eyebrows contorting, silently begging for you to get into the car.

You came to an abrupt halt as you turned to face him arm crossed over your chest. You had two options one walk home in the burning heat which would probably take you around two hours or get into the car with Rafe and have to endure his company for 10 minutes.

You went with the latter huffing before pulling the door handle and getting into the car without a word, although you couldn’t contain the moan that slipped past your lips once the cool air from the AC met your flaming skin.

“Y/N I just wanted to-“ he began but you cut him off raising your index finger towards his face “stop I don’t wanna hear it just drive me home” he nodded obviously disappointed but kept on driving either way.

Once you pulled into your driveway he gave you one last pleading look but you didn’t give him a chance to talk muttering a small thanks before slipping out of the passenger seat and slamming the car door shut in his face.

You were in desparate need of a shower your sweaty skin beginning to stick to the shirt that loosely hung over your body.

You decided to push all thoughts of JJ into the back of your mind as you turned the shower on wanting nothing more than to take back the fact that you’d gone and slept with him.

“Idiot” you mumbled shaking your head the warm water travelling down your body the only comfort you felt you needed right now.

Just as you began to feel the corner of your eyes brim with tears you were startled to hear the bathroom door open.

“What the hell!” you shrieked once you saw Kiara walk in with a large purple backpack slung over her shoulder.

“That door was locked!” you yelled hurriedly grabbing a towel and wrapping it around yourself.

“I know that’s why I have a knife” she deadpanned before placing the silver object she’d obviously stolen from your kitchen on the bathroom counter.

“What do you want Kie?” you huffed finally stepping fully out of the shower and onto the white tiled floor.

“You, me” she lifted up the backpack she’d been holding “and our dear friend vodka”

“I love you” you gushed grabbing the bag out of her hands and walking into your bedroom gently placing it on your bed.

“What’s the occasion?” you turned to face her “the occasion is a party down at the cut” she smiled sitting down on your bed unzipping the bag revealing the numerous amount of white claws and the huge bottle of vodka.

“God are you trying to kill me? you know i’m a lightweight” you gaped at the numerous beverages but still grabbed a white claw quickly opening it and taking a large sip.

“Who said any of this was for you” she raised an eyebrow an amused smile playing at her lips “shut up” you laughed.

“You owe me this whole thing is your fault” you took another sip out of the can before it was harshly ripped away from you the liquid spilling all over your arm.

“Oh so it’s my fault you hooked up with Rafe” Kiara placed a hand on her hip as she held the white claw up with her other hand.

“No” you snatched the drink back before continuing “it’s your fault that I went to JJ’s which ultimately led to the decision of me sleeping with him and making a complete fool of myself in the progress”

“Fair enough” she surrendered “get ready we need to be down at the beach in half an hour”

Once you’d made it down to the beach you’d already downed four white claws and three shots the alcohol running through your veins making you feel dizzy as you walked alongside Kie towards the crowd of teenagers all packed together around the keg watching as a girl you didn’t recognised stood in a handstand downing the beer without a struggle.

“I could do that” you slurred Kiara’s head turning in the direction you were looking “no you couldn’t” she chuckled dragging you towards John B and Pope who looked beyond shocked to see you.

“Y/N?” John B looked almost panicked as he abruptly stood up his eyes frantically beginning to dart all over the beach before stopping and widening as he looked at something behind you.

You turned to where his eyes were directed and you were horrified at the sight before you. There he was none other than JJ Maybank himself with his tongue shoved down some girls throat.

“That asshole!” you practically growled throwing the white claw you held down onto the sand as you made a bee line towards him, Kiara frantically picking up the can before following after you.

“Real classy J” you sneered a scowl resting on your face as you gave him the most disgusted look you could muster.

“Y/N” was all he said as he turned to face you, he didn’t even look sorry.

“So this is your way of trying to repair our relationship” you shot at him and the girl quickly stood up practically running away from the scene unfolding before her.

“Hey i’m just doing what you’ve been doing all along” he replied curtly standing up to face you.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean JJ” you were surprised at your ability to form a whole sentence since you didn’t exactly see straight, but this whole exchange seemed to be sobering you up.

“I saw you earlier getting into that car with Rafe!”

“What? you were following me?”

“Yes! Because I wanted to come and apologise for how I acted but clearly I was right all along!”

“JJ I didn’t ask him for a ride or call him he offered and I accepted because because I didn’t really feel like walking all the way from the cut back home in the burning heat!” a hint of regret washed over his face at your words but you continued “It doesn’t even matter I don’t have to explain myself to you”

He was about to open his mouth and say something but you didn’t give him the chance. “We’re over and this time I mean it”

You suddenly became more aware of the crowd that had begun to gather around you and you quickly turned around pushing your way past the teenagers that were huddled behind you.

“Are you okay?” a frantic voice belonging to Kiara sounded from beside you.

You swallowed the lump that was beginning to form in your throat and turned to face her pasting on a fake smile as you did.

“I’m fine” you knew she didn’t buy it but she could tell from the look in your eyes that you were silently begging her not to press on it any further, you wanted to have fun tonight and you were not going to let JJ get in the way of that.

“Come on let’s get drunk”

[miracle-sham]

Seduce a Bat With a Thieving Cat.

| {Maribat2k20 Dickinette – Day 1: First Encounters} |

| [Ao3 Link] | | [Masterlist Link] |

|Triggers/Warnings: Explicit language/some swearing. |

| It's just another typical night on patrol when the Gotham History Museum is broken into, luckily Nightwing's on the scene, that is until everything goes off the rails. |

| Or alternatively, |

| Marinette's not your typical barista, so when she serves Dick Grayson coffee, everything goes sideways. |

| Word Count: 4751 |

»‹•›«

| A/N: I'd just like to preface this fic by mentioning I had already written 2k of this fic by the time Miraculous786 posted their First Encounters fic and after reading it considering the similarities (Dick's PoV during the museum bit, Marinette wielding the Cat Miraculous and hunting down a Miraculous from a Gotham Museum) I was kinda disheartened because y'know I was worried I might get accusations of copying but as I had already written 2k I decided to keep going because I had a different enough plot and I didn't want to waste what I had written so far. |

| If you want to be tagged in future oneshots/fics, or a specific Au, then comment or senf me a DM/ask! |

| Also side note, Don't Like? Don't Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

»‹•›«

The night started out like any other Monday patrol. Except it's Monday, so of course it all goes off the rails not even halfway through the patrol. Because that's just Dick's luck.

 His comm buzzes, as Red Hood of all vigilantes, pipes up. “Just caught sight'a the tiny Catwoman copycat. Looks like she's got her eye on the Gotham History Museum again. O, you got anything on show in there that might pique the kitty's interest?”

 Oracle responds a second later, robotic voice overlay sounding charming as ever. “A bejewelled Armlet, which is the newest piece from the ancient Tibetan Jewellery collection is probably what our copycat burglar's after. She's targeted that specific collection before. Nightwing you're closest to the museum, try to cut her off before she can steal the piece.”

 “Got it!” Nightwing salutes, knowing Oracle is probably watching through a nearby security camera, as you do. He flips off the roof he's on and shoots the grapple mid flip—because he's physically incapable of not being showy, you can take him out the circus but you can't take the circus out of him—to change his route for the Museum in question.

 “Wait isn't that the collection where a bunch of perfectly preserved jewellery pieces were found in a two-hundred-year-old monastery and the pieces themselves are estimated to be thousands of years old?” Robin cuts in, followed by an “Eep!” and a series of crashes and clatters.

 “That's the one,” Oracle responds, sounding faintly amused, most likely watching whatever Robin's doing—which is probably nothing to worry about otherwise Oracle would have alerted them.

 Not that that'll stop me from worrying, Nightwing thinks ruefully.

 Red Hood scoffs. “Pretender, did you fucking seriously memorise facts about some fancy old jewellery?”

 Nightwing can practically hear Robin's frown through the comms, and boy does that make his heart clench.

 He, Robin, hesitates before answering. “I— one of my parent's last few archaeology gigs before they died was in Tibet where they were a part of the team that found a weird frog statue that's now on display at the Louvre. The statue has the same insignia as the box that the jewellery was discovered in.”

 The comms fall silent because well, they've all got their own parental issues so when it's an unspoken rule to not use that as ammo when it comes to bio parents. But the fact that Robin memorises facts relating to digs his parents went on, when they couldn't even remember half his birthdays. It's a painful reminder that the kid still loves his bio parents despite the abuse he suffered from them.

 The comms stay relatively silent (as silent as you can get, with six people's Comms hooked to the same frequency, all echoing in various white noise background sounds from their environments) until Nightwing reaches the Gotham History Museum. When the casual patrol chatter, as opposed to the white noise, starts back up, He filters out the sound out and circles the museum, keeping an eye out for their copycat burglar.

 Twenty minutes pass and there's still no sign of her nearby. Nightwing double taps his comm. “Looks like our kitty cat's a no show. Are there any other places she might tar—” A loud wailing alarm cuts him off. “Shit.”

 He whirls around, searching for the origin of the alarm. There, third skylight over, leading into the ancient Tibetan section added specifically for the bejewelled armlet's appearance at the museum—the section, not the skylight. If the skylight had been added then that would just be bad security choices on the Museum's part.

 “Nightwing. Report.” Batman growls in demands over the comms because Batman's incapable of speaking in something other than growls and guttural grunts.

  “Turns out, Oracle was probably right. I got eyes on the cat.” Nightwing responds, finally catching a glimpse of the copycat burglar, grappling her way out the skylight that the blaring alarm is coming from. Making a split-second decision, he sprint-swings after her. The chase is on kitty.

 “Whatever you do, don't engage,” Batman orders, voice sounding like someone dragged a beat-up thug across a gravel driveway.

 So Nightwing does what any self-respecting rebellious bat does, and ignores the order. “Engaging now.”

 “Nightwing.”

 Of course B tries to use the Robin Listen™ Voice. He pouts, turns off his earpiece midswing and continues to chase after the copycat burglar. He's a good few places behind, but his long legs and familiarity with the museum roof, is slowly but surely helping him catch up to her.

 She glances back at him and puts on a burst of speed, and upon reaching the edge of the museum's roof, pole vaults herself over the edge, just missing the next roof, and hurtling towards the street below—not a dangerous move at all.

 Nightwing has a split second of panic as he watches her as she's seemingly plummeting to her imminent demise, then decides to do the Vigilante Thing™ and dives after her.

 He reaches an arm out and is so close to catching her when the pole she used to vault extends out and wedges itself between the two buildings either side of the street. The copycat burglar then uses the momentum from the fall to perform three pullover flips on the pole-bar—like she wasn't just nearly falling to her death.

 Because of her move, Nightwing's forced to regrapple and swing by her in order to not crash into her. He spots a rooftop with two taller buildings either side and thinks to himself, a good point to ambush her at—provided she heads that way, if not, I can always grapple over to the other side of the street.

 There are gargoyles on both the taller buildings, so it doesn't take much to grapple up to one and hide behind them (like the bat he is)—to keep her from realising he's still here.

 Nightwing watches as the copycat burglar finishes her pullover flips and stabilises on the pole-bar, then walks across it like a tight rope—fortunately heading towards the building that he's planning to ambush her on. Finally, today's luck is looking up!

 Once she reaches the building, she steps onto a window sill and grabs the pole-bar. Nightwing studies her and the pole-bar as it contracts and compacts to a baton size. The copycat burglar attaches it to her belt then scales the side of the building seemingly effortlessly.

 She takes the path of least resistance as she reaches the top. Which is surprising to Nightwing considering she only just "lost" him. She then starts crossing the middle roof with the two taller buildings on either side.

 It's at that moment, he decides to drop in on their copycat burglar. And by drop in on, he means flip over the gargoyles he was hiding behind, and then triple backflips off the roof he's on, so that at the end of his fall he collides with her, pinning her to the ground. Unnecessarily showy, but who's he to not put on a show.

 Nightwing pulls out a pair of manacles and handcuffs her wrists. She turns her head enough to get a good look at him and gives him the most unimpressed glare he's ever seen. And I've lived with Batman, he thinks to himself, surprised at how good her unimpressed glare is.

 He leans down, trying to intimidate her. “Where'd you put the armlet you stole.”

 She hisses—like actually hisses, like a cat or a snake.

 However, having been used to villains making weird noises upon being captured—Manbat anyone?—the sound doesn't startle Nightwing as much as it probably should. That is until he catches sight of her slit pupils, and cat ears and tail twitching. Of course, his immediate thought is and they call Batman a furry.

 Unfortunately, in the split second where his thoughts are distracted, she mutters “Cataclysm,” beneath her breath. There's a horrible creak of metal rusting and warping followed by a clatter, as she yanks her hands away—causing the manacles to shatter in two.

 “Hey, wait a second!” Nightwing protests, he's about to ask what she just did, when she twists underneath his pin and flips the both of them over.

 Having not expected the flip, he's caught off guard once more but his reflexes are too well trained to be completely overwhelmed by the move, so he cartwheels out of the flip and out of her range. “That was my favourite pair of handcuffs you broke!”

 She raises an eyebrow at him and slips into a defensive stance. “You have a favourite pair of handcuffs?”

 Mimicking the action by getting into his own fighting stance, he starts to edge towards her, causing her to edge away from him—forcing them both to circle each other.

 “They were a good pair of handcuffs okay!” Nightwing defends, as he scrutinises her form—Clearly self-trained, considering this stance and her earlier moves. It's similar to Jason and Steph's styles, in the 'learnt to fight to avoid getting hurt worse' kinda way.

 “Emphasis on the were.” Is her dry response.

 He dive forward rolls towards her and jumps up, and using the momentum gained from the roll, throws an uppercut at her. “How about you give me the jewellery as compensation?”

 The copycat burglar narrows her eyes at him and blocks the uppercut with her elbow. “The jewellery is worth way more than your flimsy handcuffs.” She retaliates with a roundhouse kick to Nightwing's chest.

 Dodging with a back handspring, he pulls out his escrima sticks. “No?” He shrugs, “well it was worth a try.”

 She eyes his escrima sticks and gives him a tight-lipped smile. “It really wasn't but go off I guess.”

 That was definitely a twinkle of amusement in her eyes there! Nightwing grins then falters. “Y'know, if you're in trouble, you don't have to do this. I can help you.”

 The copycat burglar scoffs and throws a punch, which he easily blocks with one of his escrima sticks.

 “You don't understand.” She scowls, retracts her punch and spins before trying to jab him in the ribs with her baton.

 He blocks with one escrima stick and strikes back at her with the other. “I don't, but if you explain then I could.”

 Hissing through her teeth in pain, she glares at him, tail whipping viciously back and forth and cat ears laying flat against her head. She counters his block and strike, by swiping at his escrima sticks with her baton, knocking them from his grip.

 “Shit!” Nightwing back handsprings again, to get enough distance between them as to give him enough time to retrieve the sticks.

 She thwacks him in the neck with her expanding baton, throwing him off balance and leaving him breathless.

 With his moment of weakness, the copycat burglar grabs him and throws him at the nearest rooftop wall.

 “Fuck! Me!” He yelps between breaths, temporarily stunned, body aching from the impact.

 “No thanks, I'd prefer to take you out to dinner first.” She mutters, probably not intending for him to hear, as she pins him against the wall before he can recover.

 Blinking and wide-eyed, Nightwing stares at her for a solid three seconds then waggles his eyebrows. “I'd be up for dinner with you, just gotta let me help you with whatever's forcing you to steal the jewellery.”

 She sighs and glances away for a split second, then leans in really close and whispers in his ear. “There's nothing you can do to help me.”

 Leaning back, the copycat burglar places a finger over his lips—silencing him before he can speak.

 Nightwing flushes bright red and his heartbeat spikes.

 “My name is Minou Purrdu, and I'm sorry.” She purrs, pulling something odd out of her baton, a black and yellow spinning top.

 With her finger still over his lips, he's unable to ask what she's apologising for.

 She whispers under her breath, “Venom,” and stabs the spinning top into the side of his neck.

 Gasping, Nightwing is left completely paralysed by whatever the spinning top actually is because it's clearly not your standard spinning top. Unable to move—he can only watch as Minou Purrdu cups his cheek, frowns, pulls away, and begins pole-vaulting her way across the roof and out of sight.

»‹•›«

 Nightwing's not sure how long the paralysis lasted but as soon as it ends, he slumps back against the wall and melts, tipping his head back against the brick. His mind stuck on repeating the encounter as he processes what happened. Shit, he thinks while grinning dopily—face flushing bright red again (not that it faded much whilst he was paralysed), I thought I had a thing for redheads but obviously, I've got a thing for badass ladies instead.

 He's about to get up when Catwoman, original cat burglar extraordinaire, jumps down onto the roof he's on and gives him a very judgemental look. “I'm guessing the kitten got away with the jewellery, hmm? A shame, I quite fancied the look of it.” She stops, tipping her head to the side and raising a hand to one ear. She shakes her head but continues. “Oracle has some things she wants to say to you, I'd recommend turning on your comm unless you want her send Batman, Robin, or Red Hood here to see you like this.”

 Huffing, he rolls his eyes, “thanks,” then taps his comms back on. “Hey.”

 Catwoman nods to him and then takes her leave across the rooftops—Probably to go tease Batman or something.

  The comm buzzes and an unimpressed sounding Oracle greets him. “Clearly the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.” She pauses then adds, “I recorded your entire "fight".”

 Nightwing splutters in response. “What.”

 “Awww, did you get your feathers ruffled by the kitty cat, Big Wing?” Red Hood cuts in with a teasing sing-song tone of voice.

 “I hate you both,” Nightwing grumbles, pushing himself up off the ground and wall.

 “Sorry to interrupt, but I was looking through the museum's private notes on the jewellery collection, apparently some of the pieces are thought to be magical artefacts,” Robin interjects, sounding somewhat strained.

 Red Hood scoffs, “so you're saying our copycat burglar's—”

 “Minou Purrdu she called herself.” Nightwing chimes in.

 Red Hood clears his throat. “—Got her hands on multiple magical artefacts and we got no idea why she's doing it or if she's working with anyone.”

 “We might get another chance to catch her, the museum has a few other jewellery pieces from the collection, in the back,” Robin informs them, a familiar thwip of a grapple line in the background.

 “So we'll monitor the museum for any suspicious activity.” Oracle sighs. “Also Nightwing, Agent A's currently dealing with B but he wants to know the extent of your injuries from the fight.”

“Gotcha.” He swipes on his gauntlet computer and sends a quick analysis of his injuries—mostly minor bruising—and sends it to the Batcomputer for Agent A to see. “Done.”

 “B's being grumpy over the stunt you pulled, so I suggest doing a final loop once you finish patrol before heading back.” There's a clacking of keys as Oracle types away at something, most likely checking the security cams nearby.

 Nightwing readies his grapple. “You're a lifesaver O.” Then swings himself off the building to double back to his patrol route.

The clacking pauses and she laughs. “I know.”

»‹•›«

 The next morning, as she's sprinting down the pavement, Marinette's phone starts ringing. She stumbles to a stop, barely managing to dodge the other civilians walking down the path and fumbles to get her phone out her pocket. She curses and glances around her then steps off to the side to take the call. She catches a glimpse of the caller's ID before she answers, “Adrien? What is it?”

 “Ah, you're awake already, mornin' Mari!” He greets cheerfully, sounding far too awake for eight am on a Tuesday morning. Although then again, he wasn't the one who spent last night (morning?) hopping across rooftops at godforsaken hours and getting chased by the local spandex-wearing vigilantes. 

 There's a clatter behind Adrien followed by the whir of an appliance, he pauses, probably distracted by whatever made the noise. There's a faint rustle-woosh as he shakes his head. “I'm just calling to check up on you after your late night last night, after all, today's your first shift at the coffee shop.”

 Marinette huffs good-naturedly, “I woke up extra early so I wouldn't be late,” Translation: I did not get a wink of sleep last night. “I'm less than a minutes walk away right now.”

 Adrien sighs. “Mari, you really need to get better sleeping habits.”

 “Mhmm. Alright, I'm nearly there” She responds, busy checking her surroundings once more.

 “M'kay, chat to you inside?” And she can just hear the feral grin in his voice as he makes the pun.

 Marinette groans at the awful pun. “Really? Whatever, see ya!” And quickly ends the call, before setting off at a brisk pace to get to the coffee shop.

»‹•›«

 Once she reaches the coffee shop, Marinette's just barely on time for her shift. She darts into the back room and throws on the nearest apron of her size and slaps her name tag onto the apron.

 With the apron and name tag on, she stumbles out the back room and scurries behind the counter to join Adrien, who's chatting to a customer; a superhero fan, if I were to guess, from all the superhero badges and patches on their jacket. As she passes by him to get to her station, he raises a hand without glancing back at her. On instinct, she high fives his raised hand.

 Marinette reaches the empty till and waves over the next customer. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots Adrien starting on his customer's order. She smiles as the customer she waved over, approaches.

 The customer that approaches, is a pale thin-faced man, with balding grey hair and wearing a shirt and jacket from the latest Gabriel Agreste fashion line. “I need a triple shot, venti, half sweet, caramel macchiato, with three pumps of vanilla and extra whip. And I need it pronto, girly.”

 “Of course.” Marinette's smile turns paper-thin as a wave of fury washed over her. This is not my morning, she internally laments. But at least Adrien doesn't have to deal with this bastard. He doesn't need a reminder of the fact that his sperm donor managed to escape his crimes thanks to being an old, white, corrupt businessman.

 He glares at her, then sniffs pointedly and pulls out his phone.

 Marinette scurries away from the till to go and get started on the order. It's not enough to stop her from wanting to break the customer's nose but it keeps her occupied for the moment being.

 As she passes Adrien, he gives her a concerned glance. She responds with a shrug and the shake of her head, she flicks her gaze back to her customer and then to Adrien; silently conveying it's fine, don't worry. I can deal with it.

 He frowns but doesn't press, instead continuing as he was doing, in taking his customer's order to said customer.

 Sighing, Marinette then gets started on her customer's hell order, carefully making the coffee step by step, to ensure its right. Because as much as I'd love to tamper with his drink, I'd rather not lose my job not even five minutes into my first shift.

 Thankfully it doesn't take too long to make the order but as the equipment isn't that far from the counter, she could hear all the impatient huffs and scoffs from the customer throughout the duration of making the coffee. After she adds the final touches, Marinette carefully carries the order over to the customer and goes through the payment process with him.

 The customer leaves with a scowl. Good riddance, she scoffs internally. She surveys the coffee shop and surprisingly there's no one else in the queue. She shuffles towards Adrien, looking quite pale, as he hands over the change to a customer who then puts the change in the tip jar and leaves.

 Eyeing him carefully, Marinette gently nudges him in the side and softly questions. “Hey, you feeling okay? You're looking kinda pale.”

 Adrien glances back to her and nods. “Yeah, I just…” He takes a second to breathe, “that customer you were serving, he was wearing his brand.”

She makes a pained face. Shit, I was hoping he wouldn't notice.

 He huffs and grins fragilely. “You're doing your 'Heck I had hoped you hadn't realised that' face.”

  Marinette rolls her eyes. “Close, it was a 'Shit, I was hoping you hadn't realised' face but technicalities, technicalities.”

 Just as he's about to respond, three giggling people stumble into the coffee shop, a man and a boy with black hair and blue eyes, and a girl with blonde hair and blue eyes.

 Adrien stiffens as they approach, so Marinette does what any good friend would do and grabs him by the arm to tug him a step behind her.

 “Nuh-uh!” She wags a finger at him, “I'll deal with the next customers, you go take a five-minute breather in the backroom.”

 He wavers and glances between her and the approaching group. He shakes his head and grimaces. “Alright,” then scampers off to the backroom in a very cat-like way.

 Some things just don't change, she muses to herself, and tenses, throwing on a quick but genuine-looking smile to greet the new customers.

 As the three reach the counter, the tallest of the three (the black-haired blue-eyed man), leans on the counter and smirks in a way that can only be described as flirtatiously. The other man groans and the woman bursts into giggles.

 Marinette refrains from mentally calling the flirtatiously smirking one 'The Chat Noir of the three'. “Hi, how may I help you?”

 The blonde girl shoves the men and boy out of the way and flashes Marinette a dazzling grin. “Hey, can I get a grande Spoiler Surprise hot chocolate and a warmed coffee waffle please!”

 Marinette nods, quickly racking her brain for the recipe to the Gotham Special, and adds it to the till. “Anything else?”

 The black-haired blue-eyed boy—Who I really need a better internal nickname for him because he's starting to sound like the blue-eyes white dragon with how much I'm repeating that, Marinette thinks absently—half-heartedly glares at the blonde girl before turning his gaze to Marinette and asks, “could I have a quadruple shot Venti espresso with sixteen addition shots of espresso and one of the add energy packets.”

 “Timmy, no!” Gasps the man.

 “Tim, yes.” 'Tim' responds, grinning mischievously.

 The blonde girl barely holds back her laughter, doubling over from the effort.

 Marinette stares at him in concern but as soon as she spots the very prominent bags beneath his eyes, she nods—in solidarity and adds the coffee order to the till. “Okay, anything else?”

 The blonde girl and Tim share a look before darting off to grab a free table booth, leaving the man at the counter with her.

 The man stares after the two before turning his attention to Marinette. “Can I get a grande White Chocolate Mocha, please.” He pauses, “And I'll pay you triple the price of the entire order in tips if you make Tim's drink entirely decaf. Please, he's had three black coffees already today.”

 Marinette nods her head slowly. “I–uh, sure, okay. And is that all?”

 He nods, “Yep, that's all.”

 She adds the final drink to the order and puts it through the till. “That'll be twenty dollars…”

 The man hums thoughtfully and hands over a twenty-dollar bill, “Cool, so I'll pay you sixty bucks in tips if you make my little brother's drink decaf.” He then adds, “I'm Dick by the way.”

 “Marinette,” she points to the little name tag attached to her apron before getting started on the worst of the drinks, the (now decaf) twenty shot venti espresso. “And that's way too much for a tip, I can't accept that much.”

 “Hey, no, you deserve it for making that abomination of a drink that my little brother ordered and anyway it's not like I can't afford to tip you that much.” Dick divulges.

“Oh.” She responds noncommittally, unsure how to respond and so continues to pour the shots of decaf espresso into the venti cup.

 Just as she finishes pouring the final shots into the cup, a customer switches the café TV to a news channel. “Late last night, there was a break-in at the Gotham History Museum. The only item stolen was an artefact from the new Ancient Tibetan display. Fortunately, the thief was caught on the security camera. From what can be seen in the footage, the thief appears to be a Catwoman copycat.” A news anchor reports before cutting to the footage of the break-in.

 Marinette puts the twenty shot venti espresso on a tray and places the tray and drink on the counter between her and Dick.

 “What's your opinion on Minou Purrdu?” He inquires, with a curious look on his face, head cocked to one side.

 Thanks to anxiety, Marinette's immediate response is to laugh awkwardly as she internally panics—Oh fuck, he must be Nightwing. Don't be here to arrest me, don't be here to arrest, please—turning away from the counter, she gets started on the white chocolate mocha. “Uh, who?”

 Dick rubs at the back of neck somewhat sheepishly, “it's that new copycat thief's name apparently.”

 “Huh. I guess the thief must be a fan of puns then.” She comments, avoiding answering his question as she mixes the relevant ingredients into the cup to produce the drink.

 “Oh? What makes you say that?” He asks, body language showing him to be genuinely curious—probably not here to arrest me then, hopefully.

 Marinette finishes making the white chocolate mocha and carries the cup over to the tray, explaining her reasoning as she did so. “Well, Minou Purrdu is a pun. Minou perdu is french for lost kitty, and so by adding a purr to perdu, the thief made it a pun.”

 Dick makes a noise of contemplation, he then spies his drink and grins in a way that's flirtatiously feral enough to rival Chat Noir (she was definitely spot on when she nearly mentally referred to him as the Chat Noir of the three), then points to the mocha, “hey, you mocha me crazy.”

 Marinette sighs in poorly concealed amusement and it's at that moment, Adrien walks out the employee room and joins her behind the counter.

 He glances around and spots no queue, “need any help with the order?”

 She nods and turns to him. “If you could grab one of the coffee waffles and warm it please.”

 “No problem!” Adrien nods and heads over to the glass food display to get a coffee waffle.

 Dick pokes at up his mocha cup and whistles through at the heat. “This coffee's really hot but not as hot as you.”

 Marinette, midway through turning away from the counter to go grab the ingredients needed for the Spoiler Surprise hot chocolate, chokes and flushes bright red. Nope-nope-nope-nope-no! I am not doing this! Absolutely no way am I getting a crush on Nightwing who's currently a civilian and probably is maybe hunting down my secret identity to arrest me!

 Adrien, the traitor, puts the now warmed up coffee waffle on the tray and grabs a napkin. He quickly scrawls down a string of numbers that look suspiciously like her personal phone number. He waggles his eyebrows at her, winks, then hands the napkin to Dick. “She's too shy to do it herself, so here's her number!”

 She squeaks in surprise—ironic considering the drink she's currently making—and covers her face with her hands, thankfully having not been holding the cup of half-made Spoiler Surprise hot chocolate. Otherwise, she definitely would've spilt it.

 Quickly, she finishes the hot chocolate and puts it on the tray. “Here you go.”

“Thanks! and here's your tip.” He places down three twenty-dollar bills on the counter and winks, before picking the tray up and bringing it over to Tim and the blonde girl.

 Marinette spins around to face Adrien. “Oh my god, why would you do that?”

 He smirks, “because we're in a new city, why not have some fun and follow through with your new crush?”

 She groans. “We need to talk in private as soon as our shifts end.”

 Adrien's smile falters. “Alright.”

»‹•›«

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

@maribat-2k20

[cruelangelstheses]

a simple misunderstanding

fandom: avatar: the last airbender rating: G characters: sokka/zuko, katara words: 2k additional tags: canon compliant, fluff description: zuko and katara start hanging out, just the two of them. sokka gets suspicious and decides to investigate. a/n: hi!! this was written for the @lgbtqshipszine and i can post it now! i love my silly boys

read it on ao3

—

Sokka is a good older brother—he thinks so, at least. He does his best to look out for Katara and give her advice when she needs it, but he also tries to give her some space and let her make her own decisions. They are only a year apart, after all, and she’s grown up a lot since they first found Aang in the iceberg.

So when Sokka notices that Katara has been spending more time alone with Zuko, he holds himself back from immediately confronting her about it. They could be doing anything, talking about anything. He’s trusted her to be alone with guys before; he’s even teased Aang for his long-standing crush on Katara. Besides, they clearly bonded in some way when they went to search for the man who killed Sokka and Katara’s mother, even when it didn’t turn out the way they’d expected. He should be happy that they’re getting along now.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust Zuko, and it’s certainly not that he doesn’t trust Katara. He doesn’t think Zuko would do anything to hurt her—or, well, not on purpose—and he pities the fool who would even try, because hell hath no fury like a Katara scorned. So, really, it shouldn’t be any of his business what Zuko and Katara talk about in whispers on the shores of Ember Island or in the courtyard of Ozai’s beach house. At least, that’s what he tells himself.

Unfortunately, try as he might, Sokka just can’t shake the slightly sick feeling he gets in his stomach whenever he sees them talking, even if it’s only a word or two about what they’re having for dinner. He watches their interactions for any indication of romance, but if they do feel that way about each other, they’re doing a damn good job of hiding it. They don’t hold hands—in fact, they barely touch at all, except for when necessary—and they don’t usually sit next to each other during meals. Zuko does sit next to her when they go to see the Ember Island Players, but it seems completely platonic, and Sokka doesn’t miss the way they slowly scooch away from each other during the “romantic” scene between their actor selves. They still talk, though, and sometimes, Katara says something to Zuko that makes him blush furiously. Talk about mixed signals.

So Sokka makes little to no progress on his theory, which is really less of a theory and more of a sneaking suspicion that there’s something fishy going on. Zuko has been acting strange around Sokka for a little while, occasionally stuttering or spacing out in the middle of a conversation, and it might have to do with this whole business with Katara. If Zuko’s had a crush on her for some time, then it would make sense that he’d be nervous about Sokka’s reaction. (Sokka, for his part, feels weird around Zuko sometimes too, but that’s probably just because Zuko hasn’t been with them for very long, and maybe a small part of Sokka is still nervous around the guy who used to try to capture or kill them all on a regular basis.) Eventually, he decides he’ll just have to take the initiative and talk to Katara himself, or else the wondering is going to drive him crazy.

He corners her one evening after dinner, when everyone else has dispersed and Katara is starting to clean up in the kitchen. She looks up from the sink when she hears his footsteps and raises an eyebrow.

“I’m guessing you’re not here to help me clean up,” she says.

Sokka leans up against the nearby wall in an attempt to look casual. “Katara,” he starts out, “you know you can trust me, right? With anything?”

Katara frowns in confusion. “Yeah, of course. You’re my brother.”

Sokka nods and crosses his arms over his chest. “Good! Good.” He clears his throat awkwardly as he searches for the right words. “Because I realize that you can make your own decisions and that you don’t need me protecting you all the time, and so you know that if, say, you were to start dating some angsty firebender who used to try to kill us all the time, you could tell me that, right?”

Katara nearly drops the bowl she’s washing and shuts off the water. “What?”

Sokka can feel his face heating up. Apparently rambling tactlessly is still one of his strong suits. “Just, you know, theoretically,” he adds pathetically.

Katara just stares at him incredulously. “Zuko?” she says with a laugh. “You think I’m dating Zuko?”

Sokka shrugs. “Well, what else was I supposed to think with you two always running off to talk privately? Zuko hasn’t been able to look me in the eye since the Boiling Rock. I thought maybe he was nervous around me because he was afraid of how I’d react if I knew he had a crush on you or something.”

Katara laughs again. “Well, you don’t need to worry about that. I’m not particularly interested in him, and I’m positive he’s not interested in me.”

Sokka narrows his eyes. “Well, then, what have you two been talking about?”

Katara’s cheeks turn pink. “Us? Uh, nothing. Nothing important. What, two people aren’t allowed to just talk to each other alone?”

Sokka snorts. Like brother, like sister. “Well, that’s not suspicious.”

Katara sighs. “Look, if you really wanna know, you’re better off talking to Zuko.”

“He’s been acting weird around me for weeks now,” Sokka says, trying not to let the hurt seep into his voice. “What makes you think he’d tell me anything?”

“He will,” Katara replies cryptically, and with that, she returns to washing the dishes.

Clearly Sokka isn’t going to be getting a solid answer out of this conversation, so he turns around and heads down the hall to find Zuko.

It doesn’t take long to locate him, out in the courtyard practicing firebending with Aang. Zuko’s been training him in a frenzy; it feels like that’s all they do sometimes. They just ate, and they’re already back at it again, likely at Zuko’s direction. The least they could do is take a few breaks.

Sokka waltzes down the couple of steps outside and into the courtyard. As they’re both practicing the same forms, Aang moving his body in sync with Zuko’s, neither of them notice him approaching. Sokka waits until they seem like they’re at a good stopping point, assuming a final fighting stance and then relaxing their postures, to call out, “Hey, Zuko? I need to talk to you.”

Zuko nearly jumps at the sound of his voice and whirls around. “Okay,” he says, attempting to act calm, but very obviously failing. The sweat rolling down his temples doesn’t help matters, either. “What is it?”

Sokka awkwardly glances over at Aang. “Uh, can we talk in private, actually?”

Zuko narrows his eyes, but nods silently and waves a hand in Aang’s direction, dismissing him. Once he’s out of earshot, Sokka sits down on one of the steps. Zuko, however, remains standing.

Sokka decides to just get straight to the point. “So. You and Katara.”

Zuko raises an eyebrow. “What about me and Katara?”

“You’ve been talking a lot recently,” Sokka says. “Alone.”

Zuko’s face heats up, though it was already a little flushed from training. “So?”

“I asked Katara about it, but I didn’t get much out of her. I thought maybe you two were dating or something, but she said that wasn’t it. She wouldn’t tell me anything else, though.” Sokka shrugs. “She told me to ask you instead.”

Zuko folds his arms over his chest. “What gives you the right to know about two people’s private business?” He really sounds like a prince there, and it looks like he knows it.

“Well, number one, something’s telling me this ‘business’ was hidden pretty specifically from me, and I’d like to know why,” Sokka replies. “And number two, I’d appreciate some sort of heads-up if my sister ends up dating the crown prince of the Fire Nation, who spent the better part of a year actively trying to capture us.” That last part comes out sounding more hostile than he means for it to.

Zuko scowls and throws his hands out. “What are you saying? That after all this time, after everything, you still don’t trust me?”

Sokka holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “No, no, I didn’t mean—”

“Save it.” Zuko scoffs, but there isn’t any venom in it, just hurt. “And here I was starting to think we—”

He bites his lip and stops talking, just stands and stares with his hands balled up into fists at his sides and his eyes glinting with something Sokka can’t quite decipher.

“What?” Sokka asks. “Starting to think we what?”

Zuko shakes his head, looks away. His body relaxes, and he opens his hands back up, using one of them to rub at his scarred eye. Finally, he walks over to the steps and sits down next to Sokka, resting his arms on his knees as he thinks about his response. After a long moment of silence, he speaks.

“When we were together at the Boiling Rock, I...realized something. I decided to talk to Katara about it later, and then she started giving me some advice.”

Sokka narrows his eyes in confusion. “Why her specifically?”

Zuko sighs. “Because she knows you best.”

Sokka shakes his head. He really, truly has no idea what’s going on here. “What does this have to do with me?”

Zuko is quiet for a long time. Finally, he says with a small laugh, “You got it all mixed up, Sokka. I’m not interested in your sister. I’m interested in you.”

Sokka almost doesn’t believe that he’s hearing correctly. His heart is full of so many somethings, things like relief and shock and hope and desire and an overwhelming feeling of duh.

“Me?” he sputters, because he realizes that he hasn’t said anything yet, and Zuko is looking at him like he expects Sokka to slap him. “I—me?”

Zuko smiles wryly. “I know; I was surprised, too.”

For a moment, they just look at each other. Then they both start laughing, so awkwardly and so stupidly. They laugh so hard that Sokka’s stomach starts to hurt. They laugh so hard that they have to hold onto each other to catch their breath, and that’s when Sokka leans in.

It’s short and soft, an apology, a beginning. He tastes like fire and what they had for dinner, but Sokka doesn’t mind. When they kiss, it feels like something clicks inside of him.

Zuko pulls away first, guilt written all over his face. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I was just afraid—I didn’t know how you’d—”

“No, no, I get it,” Sokka assures him. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I didn’t mean to imply that I don’t trust you, because I do, Zuko. I do.”

Zuko’s lips curl up into the faintest smile. “I wanted to ask Katara for her blessing. And then I just ended up coming to her for advice on how to...well. Court you, I guess.”

Sokka snorts. “Just be yourself. That’s enough for me. Just don’t go making me jealous.”

Zuko giggles—he actually straight-up giggles. Sokka thinks he could listen to it forever. “Jealous? Of who, Katara?”

“Well, yeah. I assumed you two had a thing.”

Zuko shrugs, his cheeks bright red. “I never said it was a good plan. But it worked out in the end, didn’t it?”

Sokka smiles to himself and laces his fingers with Zuko’s. His heart feels like it might take off and fly away at any moment. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I suppose it did.”

(Katara finds them kissing again a few minutes later, and the only thing she says is “Finally.”)

[shawnpetermuffins]

Pictured with You (xii.)

A/n: wow, we only have 2 more chapters after This! This series has gone by way too quickly!

Summary: It's time you stop playing games. Brian and Connor are here to make sure it comes to an end.

Warnings: none? But it is told in both Brian's and Connor's POV, so like that's new.

Word count: 2k

***

Two confessions. I've got the two confessions that I needed - even though, let's be real, they didn't need to say it for me to know, but it helps. The only difficult thing now is getting them in the same room together so that they can admit to each other too. They're both so stubborn it's nearly impossible to get either of them to see that what they're doing is hurting them more than it is helping. But that's where I come in. But I'm gonna need a little help if I'm going to pull this off. So I'm in search of the one person that knows y/n better than Shawn does.

I text Connor after I leave y/n', informing him that I'm on my way to his room.

"What's so important that you couldn't just text me?" He asks, opening the door wide enough for me to slip through.

"I have a project for you."

"For me?" He crosses his arms over his chest and sits down on the arm rest of the couch.

"Yeah, I need you to take your footage from the last few months of tour and I need you to look for something in it."

"Okay… what am I looking for?"

"Anything and everything that has to do with Shawn and y/n."

"What?"

"We're getting them together," I say like it's the most obvious thing in the world, which it should be.

He doesn't say anything for a long while. Actually I start to doubt if he even heard that last part, but then he sighs heavily. "Brian, I can't help you."

"What? Why?"

"It's complicated," he answers, but I know it isn't. Because these are two people we care so much about, there shouldn't be anything complicated about it. "Please, Connor. You have to help me get them together. I can't stand seeing them pining for each other like this anymore."

He shakes his head, "I promised her that I'd stay out of their relationship, or whatever it is now. I just can't. It's not that I don't want to, but I can't betray her like that."

"Dude! You'd be helping her out!"

"You may see it that way, but-"

"No, listen." I sit on the edge of the table. "You film literally everything. I know you do. You have probably hours of footage of them just goofing around in the dressing room, and walking down the street holding hands, and leaning on each other in the restaurants. This is what we need to get them there. If you just compile it up, I'm sure it will get them to realize that they need each other."

"Okay," he nods. "Yes, I have all that, but she would kill me if she knew I was filming them all that time."

I sigh and run my hands roughly over my face, "Connor, for one second. Just one second, I need you to stop thinking about what she's going to feel towards you. I know she's your best friend, you don't want to betray her trust. I get that because I feel the same about Shawn. But we're hurting them more by not helping them. We're letting them be miserable when it's the most obvious thing in the world that they want to be together. That they need each other. Not pushing them is selfish."

"Okay, and what if this push isn't what they need? What if this push actually ruins them? What do we do then? Are we going to have to live with knowing that their downfall could have been avoided had we not inserted ourselves into their personal relationship. I don't want that to be on our shoulders. I don't want that on your shoulders."

"What is it that makes you so fucking sure that they'll break up?"

"Because they're just how she and I were!"

I stare at him for a minute, trying to figure out if he's for real or not. "So you did have a thing."

He just nods, "Yeah. We did."

"Is that why you won't help? Because you're still hung up on her? Because I swear to god, I will drop kick you so hard right now if that's the reason."

Connor holds his hands up, "No! Jesus, I really need to stop pausing before I continue talking. I don't want her back. I don't. She and I both know that us going out was a mistake." He runs his fingers through his hair, "I don't want her to experience that again. Because we didn't talk for months after we broke up, and it was a mural break up."

"She's twenty-one. Let her live a little, damn. You can't protect her from heartbreak, Con. If it happens, it happens. You're not her brother. You're not her father. You're not her protector. She's very capable of making her own decisions about a guy. And she wants him."

"How do you know she still does?"

"Because she told me literally two seconds ago. Just like she told me the only reason she won't get with him while We're on tour is because she doesn't want him to get too used to them being with each other all the time."

"What are you talking about?"

"Eventually Josiah is gonna come back for tour. And y/n is going to be back at home doing photoshoots there. She doesn't want him getting comfortable with that consistency."

"You see? That! That's why I'm scared for her! I'm worried that it's not going to be consistent. That he won't be consistent."

"He may not always be in the same place," I agree, "but he's never not been there when someone needed him. You know that. You know that he would drop everything if she needed him."

He sighs and looks down at his feet, his hands in his pockets. "I know."

"So are you gonna help me or not?"

---

So now I'm sitting here, going through my footage with Brian ghosting over my shoulder, watching me choppily put the snippets together just to have them saved.

"I like this one," he points to my screen where y/n and Shawn are trying and failing to copy Shakira's 'hips don't lie' choreography. The video is kinda shaky because I'm trying to get closer to them, but I'm laughing so hard that my body is shaking too. The video cuts out shortly after they land on the couch, y/n's body on top of Shawn's, her head resting on his fast beating chest while they remain cackling.

"Yeah, I like it too," I drag the video to my editor and we go through more.

"What's this one?" Brian's finger hovers over a snippet marked "Staying in Paris." I click on it, scrolling through until I find the part I know is there. They're in front of the lit up Eiffel tower, it's late. Her camera covers most of her face while she takes a picture of Zubin and Eddy back to back on the grass in front of her. She's focused on them, but his eyes don't stray from her. When she stands from her crouching position, his hand almost immediately finds the small of her back. When I played the footage back the first time, I brushed this off as him trying to steady her, but I see the pure longing in his eyes now, and when she very subtly falls into his touch, I know it was more than that.

Video after video I put them to edit, until I have nearly fifteen minutes of just them. Moments that I know they aren't aware I was filming. Like on the first night of tour. They're, for the most part, alone in his dressing room and she's fixing the shoulders of his shirt. You can barely hear them over the chaos down the hall, but you can just catch y/n say, "Trying to kill these girls with your chest hair, Mendes?"

"Only trying to get one girl's attention," his hands are on her arms, rubbing half circles on her skin with his thumbs.

Then there's one from the San Antonio show, we're at Starbucks and y/n is reaching into her bag for her money, but Shawn placed his hand over hers, ordering his drink and then handing the barista his card. Y/n tries to push his hand away but he chuckles and wraps his arm loosely around her waist, his hand on her thigh. He takes his card back and they move to the side so Mike can order his drink.

I find one that I know Brian will want for the video. The kiss from the dressing room. But the one we're watching now is horrible quality because it's from my phone, and it was that night at the bar. You can barely see because of the dark light in the room, but you see her lips touch Shawn's and the shot glass that was between his teeth just seconds before now slides between their close bodies.

"You got this one?" He asks, looking down at me and I just nod.

"I don't know why I thought to get it, I just did, I guess. I mean, we obviously don't have to use it, but-"

"No. No, use it. Use them all. This is - this is exactly what we need."

I close my computer and turn to face my red-headed friend. "So, we have a video. What are we gonna do to get them in the same place?"

"Well, first. How long is it going to take you to edit that?" He gestures toward the laptop and I shrug.

"I don't know. A week, maybe? It just depends on how much time I have when I'm not editing the behind the scenes stuff."

"Okay… I have a plan. It's gonna be tricky, but I think we can make it happen if we get a little more help."

I nod, "Lay it on me."

---

(Bold is Connor's POV, regular is Brian, bold italics is both)

This plan took nearly the rest of tour to execute, let me just tell you. It was nearly four months of planning and I'm still not even sure if we did everything we said we were going to. But Brian was convinced that we could pull this off and so far, so good. There were, of course, a couple of almost slip ups, but we were able to save ourselves from having to explain ourselves, and our plan to Andrew, who would no doubt throw a tantrum if he found out what we were up to. And it's both fortunate and not that y/n and Shawn still aren't talking to each other. They're much better at being around each other though. They can finally stand in the same room without one of them coming up with an excuse to leave. But I don't see that being the case tonight. One of them was bound to go into fight or flight mode when they saw what Brian and I had cooked up.

"Dude, what's the rush?"

"Why are you so eager to get to the roof?"

"The lighting is perfect. You'll get the best photos."

"It's nice outside. I just want to enjoy the fresh air. And since when do you have something against roofs?"

"I don't."

"Okay, but bouncing in place relentlessly isn't going to make me tie my shoes faster. If anything it'll only make me go slower."

"Please, y/n."

"Please, Shawn."

"Jesus, alright. I just need to get my camera and we can go."

"Okay, okay. Let me get my phone. Don't think I'll need it, but just in case."

I send a quick text to Brian when we leave her room.

We're in the elevator.

He's quick to reply.

Just about to head that way. Make sure she's not facing the door.

I know that what's about to happen doesn't necessarily have anything to do with me, but I can feel my stomach turning all the same. I'm scared something will go wrong. But I push the fear to the side when we reach the roof.

No turning back now.

***

Tag: @curlyshawny @anamariel2301 @shawns-badreputation @bbellbagel @turtoix @ivegotparticulartaste @tomshufflepuff @dino-16-avocado @sleepybesson

PWY TAG: @lifeoftheparty74 @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @alinaxxshawn @rosesfromcth @5-seconds-of-mendes @sweetheartmendes @shawnwyr @strangerliaa @xoxohannahlee @thenovarose @justanotherfangurl272 @particularmila @buckwildflower @shawnmendes048 @itrocksmysocks

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[slut4supersoldiers]

One Minute Quadruple

Pairing: Fem Reader x Sebastian Stan

Summary: your first (not so) large scale project changes your life in more than one ways

A/N: I saw the new trailer on the @oneminutemen and came up with this on a whim. Sorry if it’s trashy.

ALSO: first ever Seb Stan one shot (show some love)

Words: 2k+

Warning: Bad writing, one swear word, grammar error

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“Why do you want to make films? You can be a doctor or a lawyer. Why do you want a career which doesn’t offer security nor stability.” Your mom’s words ran through your mind for three years like a mantra. As much as you tried to ignore it, the words reared their ugly head and constantly reminded you of your terrible and possibly impulsive decision. But as you stood next to Will Malnati and Joe Mazzello you could feel yourself stomping over those words of discouragement.

“This is (y/n). She worked on a short film with my cousin. Pretty impressive.” Will said while he introduced you to Joe Mazzello.

“Well anything is more impressive than a movie produced on IMovie.” Joe chuckled as he shook hands with you. His hands were soft much like the smile that graced his face. To say that you were star struck would undoubtedly be an understatement.

Will shrugged after Joe patted his shoulder, “Anyway no one helps me around here. A guy can’t act and edit and film alone, so could use a helping hand.

You had spent three years in a film academy working on countless projects and assignments. Naturally you were aware of the great names of the film industry and aspired to work with them. However, even after assisting on smaller projects for nearly a year and a half after graduation you were only doing student projects, short films, birthdays and weddings. You loved the opportunities that came your way and they helped pay the bills. But you wanted more. You wanted an opportunity that would help you make a name for yourself and showcase your work to a larger audience. You never knew that opportunity would come in the form of a one minute movie involving three hunky men.

Suddenly your attention was drawn to the two men standing in front you. One, two....

Where was the third? You hadn’t watched the one minute movies before. The only reason you got on board was because Will was your roommate’s cousin. The obviously large amount he was willing to pay you was definitely the bigger factor that dictated your decision.

Regarding the questioning glances you threw to both men as if questioning the absence of the third Joe questioned, “where’s Sebastian?”

“You know him, he probably got fascinated by one of the sesame street characters or probably lost his way.” Will teased, an appreciative glint in his eyes.

Joe only shook his head as he turned his attention to his phone. You stood awkwardly rocking on the heels of your feet. The crowds of tourists and daily commuters surrounding you passed by in a rush. Some even threw hesitant glances and excitedly pointed at the men in front of you. You swore you heard a horde of girls whispering “that’s Joe, shit that’s Joe for real.”, as they passed by you. So you were not surprised when the same group of girls ventured back to the three of you and asked to take a picture with Joe. Will awkwardly shuffled behind you as the girls handed you their phones.

“Please take a picture.” One of the girls exclaimed.

Smiling at her excited form you held her phone up. The girls were all leaning into Joe, while holding onto him like he would disappear into thin air if they loosened their grip. The soft giggling of the girls and their flushed faces were soon replaced by shrieks and animated hand gestures. Following their line of vision you turned around to see the man in question. Sebastian Stan.

Sebastian Stan? Wait the Sebastian Stan? That was the Sebastian Will and Joe were talking about? Sebastian Stan? How many Sebastian’s do you know (y/n)?

You snapped out of your train of thoughts as Will clapped loudly.

“Finally!” He exclaimed as he ignored the commotion in front of him and hugged the man who had just walked towards the small (slowly growing) group.

You looked over at Joe who was still posing for a few pictures while politely talking to two girls who kept asking him questions.

“How does he do that?” You mumbled.

“Well its a part of the job.” A soft yet gruff voice fell on your ears. You turned around to see a pair of sterling blue eyes staring into yours.

You knew who Sebastian Stan was. Of course you knew. Your younger brother was a massive Marvel fan and his obsession had rubbed off on you. Although you had always considered Chris Evans to be the dreamiest man you suddenly wanted to reconsider that opinion as you stared at the man who played winter soldier in one of your favourite movies.

Dear lord he is so much more handsome up close. (Y/n) stop staring at him. God he has freckles, it’s so adorable. Stop looking at his lips. But they’re so gorgeous. Answer him. ANSWER HIM!

“Uh. Hi.” If you could dig yourself a hole and jump in it you’d do that now.

“Hi.” Sebastian looked at you, an amused smiled graced his lips.

Before you could interact any further the group of excited girls pulled at Sebastian’s hand.

“Can we please get a picture?” One of them who you recognised was bombarding Joe with questions, asked Sebastian.

“Of course.” Much like Joe, Sebastian stood next to the girls while they clicked the pictures.

This kind of commotion only increased as the days passed and so did the tiny crush you harboured on one of the leading men: Sebastian Stan.

Every moment that you spent around him made your heart race. Every morning you’d put in a little more effort in your appearance. A little swipe of lipstick here, a little more dab of your expensive perfume (that you had saved for special occasions) there, you felt like a high school girl pining over the popular boy who wouldn't even notice you. The thought made you slightly upset. So you decided to focus on your work instead of how perfectly structured Sebastian’s jaw line was or how his eyes reminded you of the deep ocean when the sun reflected its rays into them or how his hearty, boyish laugh sent shivers down your spine or how the slightest brush of his body against yours made you weak in your knees. You decided to ignore it all because you knew he was not interested. If only you knew how wrong you were!

If only you knew how Sebastian was equally smitten by you. If only you knew how much he wanted to run his fingers through your (y/h/c) locks. If only you knew how frantically his heart beat every time you smiled at a corny comment he’d make. If only you knew how enamoured he was by your knowledge and passion for your work. But he kept it hidden because he knew you wouldn't be interested.

It had taken the four of you two weeks to film the scenes in New York. And finally two weeks of running around, buying cartons of milk and cereal, filling a bath tub with it, fighting with costumed characters at Times Square and scarring tourists at other famous spots the one minute quadruple (as Joe coined it) reached the last destination; Central Park.

The chilly New York air enveloped you. Had it not been for Sebastian in a crisp suit and a trench coat standing in front of you, you would’ve rather opted to stay home, curled in a blanket away from the cold.

“So I will do the shots with Joe and Joe can film me. (Y/n) take over with Sebastian. We are short on time and the sooner we wrap up the better.” Will instructed and retreated to the horse carriage with Joe saying something along the lines of “don’t wanna lose the sunlight.”

“Heard the boss, let’s get to work.” You heard Sebastian say.

You turned around to see a smile had made its way on Sebastian’s gorgeous face. Squinting your eyes as the sun rays obstructed your vision you took in Sebastian’s get up. The newly trimmed hair the long trench coat, the slight stubble that accentuated his jaw made him look sinfully handsome. Subconsciously you licked your lips. For a second you swore you saw Sebastian’s gaze lingering on your lips. But you shrugged it off.

“So we are just going to do a few running shots and close up shots. That fine?” You looked down at the camera, making a few adjustments for the shots.

“Perfect.” Sebastian said as he looked at you.

Initially, Sebastian was not keen on introducing another member on the team but after spending weeks working with you he found himself being upset (as Will would say devastated) the day before the last day of filming. Because it meant that he’d never get to meet you again (or as Will would say “you’re being dramatic.”) He had all but begged Will to let him work with you alone for the last day. Upon the request Will had eyed him with suspicion,

“Man do you have a crush on her or something?” He then broke out into an uncontrollable laughter.

“Shut up!” Sebastian lightly punched his friend’s shoulder.

“Okay, jokes apart. What’s the deal, man?” Will put his laptop down and stared at his friend .

“I don’t know, man! I mean, she is cute and smart and really funny-

“And she laughs at your crappy jokes.” Will intervened.

Sebastian gave him a deadpanned look, Will could only respond with a shrug.

“What I wanted to say before you rudely interrupted me was, I’d like to take her out. I mean to talk, about anything other than how I should stand or how I should look into the camera.” Sebastian threw his hands in the air as if to express his frustration.

As he stared at you while you gave him instructions pertaining to the scene Sebastian couldn't help but be thankful to Will.

“Uh, Sebastian?” Your voice startled him,“You okay? You look a little lost and very red” you raised your brows inquisitively.

“Uh, yeah. It’s the weather.” He awkwardly scratched his neck. Seeing the ever so suave and confident Sebastian Stan being flustered made you feel all warm and giddy inside.

“Okay. Let’s do the running shot first before the ‘weather’ gets worse.” You stepped back as Sebastian gave you a tight lipped smile. You really did not understand the concept that Will wanted to follow for the movie but you decided to go with it. Hence, the lack of hesitancy when Sebastian picked up the glass jar that was supposed to be a prop for the scene.

Once you had moved away considerably, you instructed, “Okay, Sebastian you come running towards the camera. Once that’s done I’ll take a few stationery shots with you looking into the camera. Got it?” You yelled. After receiving a nod in affirmation you began filming. The moment you gave him the sign he ran towards you.

Before you could yell cut and ask Sebastian to stop you felt yourself lose your balance. The small rock that you stepped on accidentally sent you tumbling onto the ground. Panicking at your sudden movement Sebastian instinctively reached out to grab a hold of your elbow, completely ignoring one of your legs that was raised off the ground. The kick that he received to his shin made him lose his balance as well, causing him to topple over your body which was already a few meters away from the ground. The camera hit the ground with a thud but before your head could witness the same fate you felt a soft, almost cushiony barrier between your head and the ground.

When you opened your eyes, you were met with a slightly contorted face of Sebastian Stan.

“Are you okay?” His voice never sounded so soft. Or maybe it did but you never heard from such a short distance. You could practically feel his breath hitting your face while his gaze constantly lingered on your lips.

“Are you okay?”you whispered back, your voice squeakier than you had anticipated.

“You were the one who fell on the ground, very gracefully might I add. You should be concerned about your wellbeing over mine.” A low laugh rumbled in his chest.

“Well that was the part of the scene. Totally nailed it.” You bit your lip trying to hide away your embarrassment.

Sebastian licked his lips and pulled his hands from under your head. The loss of contact suddenly made you want to whine and ask him to touch you. In that moment the thoughts racing through your mind were bordering filthy so you decided to just get lost in Sebastian’s eyes instead of your thoughts.

“As much as I love this and as good as you smell, I think we should get up my legs is kind of giving out.” Cautiously, as if testing the waters Sebastian raised his hand. Softly, he caressed your cheek with the back of his hand.

The tenderness in his action and the adoration in his eyes made your heart skip a beat.

“What if I don’t wanna get up?” You replied coyly.

Before Sebastian could come up with an equally coy response you heard someone clearing their throat. Suddenly both your heads snap to the source of the sound.

Will stood with a hand on his waist while Joe stood behind him stifling his laughter.

“Was this a part of the movie?” Will raised his brows as he looked at the two of you. A small almost knowing smile played on his lips.

“I, uh, we were, I fell.” You frantically mumbled.

Sebastian got up and held his hand out for you. Graciously you accepted his hand and he pulled you up. While Wills gaze lingered on the two of you Sebastian placed a hand on the small of your back.

“Right! I think we are done here. Joe and I will be heading for a snack, I am assuming you two wouldn't want us to interrupt you?” Will questioned, mischievously. This time joe couldn't control himself and he broke out into a loud laugh.

The two men before you didn't even give you a chance to respond as they walked away from you and Sebastian, leaving you two in a comfortable silence.

“So?” Sebastian called for your attention, a hand lazily tucked into his pocket.

“So?” You repeated as you turned to face him.

“Since I made you fall and you made me fall, let’s make up for it and go for a coffee?” Sebastian looked up at you expectantly.

“I don’t know if that’s a cheesy pick up line or not but I really wouldn't mind a cup of coffee right now.” You chuckled.

Safe to say that wasn't the last day of shoot and definitely not the last day you saw each other

[delkios]

Trade Your Ghosts for Heroes (ToRays/ToV)

What started as a silly scene with Cress's pun ended up turning into a nearly 2k post-Mirrage Prison fic. Caveats: I've only played, like, three Tales games and two of those were 15+ years ago so characterizations are primarily based of ToRays depictions. Apologies if they're inaccurate. Also my knowledge of Mirrage Prison is an incomplete hodgepodge of translations and summaries. Apologies if that, too, is inaccurate. Title a re-worded line from Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here" because ~what are titles~?

(dreamwidth) (pillowfort) (AO3) Title: Trade Your Ghosts for Heroes Fandom: Tales of the Rays, Tales of Vesperia Rating: PG Word Count: 1996 Characters: Flynn, Yuri, various minor appearances Summary: Following the end of Mirrage Prison, Flynn is finally properly introduced to the other Nexuses. Though everyone kept a clear path to the makeshift medbay, there were plenty of onlookers as Yuri, leading the return group, carried Ix. Which was as good a time as any for Yuri to name each Nexus they passed to Flynn. Proper introductions could be made later but the roster was pretty big, so he may as well get a head start. Raine and Ruca met them just outside the medbay, the young man and Mileena taking Ix from Yuri and bringing him inside with Kocis following close behind. Raine gave the remaining two men a slight smile. "Why don't we go to the conference room," she said with a mild warmth that barely disguised a cool caution- which Yuri would bet she wasn't really trying to disguise. If Flynn wasn't already used to having his every move scrutinized and questioned, Yuri might have been offended on his behalf. "I'm sure everyone would like to officially meet you." The conference room wasn't quite filled with people, many still making their way back to the fortress, but there were still a good number in there. "Yo," Yuri called out to the group, clapping a hand on Flynn's shoulder and pushing him forward slightly. "This is Flynn."

Flynn gave Yuri a sideways, disapproving look when it was clear that was the extent of his introduction. His attention was drawn, however, by a sharp bark. Repede charged at the duo, jumping up so his front paws hit Flynn's shoulders hard enough to rock him back a step and covering the man's chin and cheeks with long licks. "Repede!" He laughed, giving the dog a good scrubbing at the thick fur of his neck. "I'm glad to see you, too!" "I've never seen Repede so happy before," Sophie said, looking envious. With a playful nip at Flynn's fingers, Repede dropped down, moving to sit between Flynn and Yuri's feet as Estelle took his place, embracing Flynn with a great big hug. "Flynn! We were so worried about you!" "I'm sorry for making you worry, Lady Estellise," he gave her a hug and, when she moved aside, held a hand up for Karol to slap with a wide grin. While Judith, Rita and Raven didn't greet him with anything more than warm words and welcoming smiles, they gathered around the latest member of their group like they were worried someone might try to take him away again. Standing toward the back, Velvet gave him a cool once over before declaring more than asking, "So you're the guy Yuri lost his head over?" Flynn laughed, both self-conscious and self-depreciating. "I didn't really apologize for putting you in that position, did I?" He gave his best friend a guilty smile. "Sorry about that." Yuri just scoffed. "What I said about that gloomy expression is still in effect." This laugh was more genuine, "Of course." Expression cautious and arms crossed, Cress asked, "We've heard Baldr's side but I think it's worth us knowing: what exactly possessed you to do such a thing?" Chester's arm shot out like a reflex to punch his best friend in the arm. Unfortunately he only hit pauldron and he half curled over his aching knuckles with a quiet 'ow'. "Well, it wasn't exactly-" Flynn paused for a moment then grinned, "Oh! Very clever!" Estelle giggled, "Cress is very good with word play." Cress gave Chester a smug look and Chester just groaned. "Why does everyone keep encouraging him?" "Yeah, sorry, should've mentioned," Yuri said with dry resignation, "Flynn's got terrible taste in everything." "Including friends, unfortunately," Flynn said, equally dry. "Maybe I won't care so much next time you get bodyjacked." "Or maybe you could react in a less haphazard way." Yuri made a show of scowling. "I get lectured even when it's not my plan." Flynn just gazed back at him coolly. "I'm talking about your particular actions. As always." "Next time I'll submit my snap decisions for you to review before saving your ass." Heads bobbed around the bridge, various Nexuses muttering to themselves or each other, "Definitely childhood friends." "As much as I hate to break up the heartwarming bickering," Raine said in a way that clearly stated this was not the case, "Cress's question is still a valid one." "Yes, ma'am, I apologize," Flynn said and Raine muttered an amused, "Such manners!" into her sleeve. He cleared his throat and said to the room at large, automatically falling into professional knight mode, "Before the procedure that placed Baldr in my body, I was only aware of very few things: I was not in the world I knew and the Asgard Empire was determined to use me in some way. When Baldr and I first... well, spoke, I suppose you could say, he told me that he wasn't able to possess my body without my consent. I could sense he was troubled by the entire process and didn't seem very keen to do it but, he knew as I did, that Mercuria and Naza would find another body if he was unable to use mine. We came to an agreement: I would allow Baldr to use my body but I would retain my consciousness. This allowed open dialogue between us and he even allowed me control of my body on occasion. Despite his misgivings over the Empire's actions, Baldr was loyal and it took some time before I was able to convince him that they needed to be stopped." Flynn cast a sideways look at Yuri. "I suppose I'm lucky for the experience of dealing with someone far more stubborn than he." Yuri just snorted, "You're worse than I am." "Asides from Naza, I was the first to be possessed. Apparently there is something about my ...anima, I believe? That's unique but I'm uncertain as to the details of what that means or even why it is. As far as I'm aware, I've never been any different than Yuri." At his side, Yuri nodded. Had it been Estelle or Raven it would have been obvious, even with Judith or Rita guesses could have easily been made. But the two of them and Karol were just regular guys. Rita stepped in front of him, arms crossed, looking him over as if she could find the answer if she glared at him hard enough. "You should come down to the lab so we can run some tests. I don't know why you would be unique, but that might mean some of the other 'normal' Nexuses we've gathered might also have unique properties. If that's the case, it's definitely something we should know about." "If the bodysnatching process was so easy for you and Baldr," Chester asked, looking like he wasn't sure if he should be upset or not, "why did the Empire have so much trouble with others?" "I think," Flynn said slowly, thinking through his answer, "that has to do with Baldr needing my consent. For that, I had to be... me, still. Awake, aware- but for the others, it's like their minds and personalities were completely rewritten. The Empire had to rework the procedure and," his expression grew dark with guilt, "a number of people were left comatose before they succeeded. I don't know how many or where they were put after, Baldr kept me away from... the failures when he realized how upset I was." Estelle put her hands around one of his, giving it a squeeze. "It's alright, Flynn. We figured out how to bring them back." He let out a shaky breath and grin. "Thank you, Lady Estellise. It's relieving to know. There was only so much I was able to do, even when Baldr decided to help me. I hated being unable to do anything for them." "Yeah, yeah, we know what a bleeding heart you are," Yuri drawled. "Unfortunately, now Psycho Princess is intent on taking Flynn's head in addition to Mileena's, so you should probably lay low for a bit." Raven hummed unhappily. "Kiddo didn't take betrayal too well, huh?" "Guess she's less forgiving than some people," Rita said flatly. Raven's only response was a rueful twist of his lips. A couple others in the room shifted uncomfortably. "If I may take a moment to recap here," Jade said with a feigned thoughtfulness, "in answer to Cress's question, Flynn allowed Baldr to possess his body because he knew the Empire was adamant about using him, if it wasn't his body then Baldr would be placed in someone else, and, because Baldr didn't seem entirely happy about the Living Doll Project as a whole, you thought you might be able to convince him to defect. Is that more or less correct?" "Yes," Flynn said. There was a brief silence, then Raine asked incredulously, "That was your entire thought process?" "Well," Lloyd said in cautious defense, "it worked?" "It is quite the Flynn thing to do," Judith said with amusement. Raven nodded. "Wouldn't expect less from the man that helped get the Union and Empire working together." "I'm sorry everyone," Flynn said softly. "I thought I'd be more useful than I ended up being. I should've done more to help." "Oh," Jade said with flat distaste, "he's one of those genuinely humble types." He them promptly walked out. Yuri snickered at the exit- he certainly hoped watching Jade and Flynn interact would be as amusing as he imagined. But... ignoring the people quick to reassure Flynn he'd been helpful- and keeping the Empire from realizing Baldr had left was very much so -Yuri prodded his friend in the chest hard with the sheathed end of his sword. "I warned you. I'm wiping that look off your face right now." "Wait," Reala looked between Yuri and Flynn. "You're going to fight him? But you just got your friend back." "It's that bastard Baldr's fault," Yuri said decisively, arms crossed over his chest. "I don't care about his reasons or that Flynn agreed to it, I'm pissed that he took over someone's body. But since he went and disintegrated before I could beat his ass, I'll just beat Flynn's for being stupid enough to agree in the first place." Confused and hesitant glances shifted around the room, made all the more so by the fact neither Flynn nor any of their friends seemed at all bothered by this declaration. Reala inched a little closer to Flynn. "Are you alright with this?" He just looked as if that was a strange thing for someone to ask him. "Certainly." "They fight a lot," Karol said like it was perfectly normal. "I haven't let loose in a while," Flynn added with a deceptively angelic smile, "it'll be a nice challenge." "You making preemptive excuses for when you lose?" Yuri asked with a sharp grin. Though Flynn's smile hadn't changed, there was something decidedly less angelic about it. "You know what they say: once is an accident." "You saying my win was a fluke?" "I suppose we'll see." "Wait," Kyle popped in between them with wide eyes, "does that mean Yuri's only beaten you once?" "Oh, well," Flynn chuckled and turned away from Kyle's awed expression, ever the humble knight, "I... suppose I may have won more often than not when we were kids." "All of 'em," Yuri said bluntly. "He won all except for the last." "It really isn't as impressive as it- er?" Suddenly Cress and Luke were on either side of Flynn, grabbing an arm each. "Sorry, Yuri. You'll have to postpone your match a bit," Cress said brightly. "Yeah," Luke added, "I have got to see what this guy can do!" Then, using Flynn as a pivot point, the two turned around and started pulling Flynn out of the room. "O-oh, um... okay?" Flynn called out even as he was dragged away. "It was nice meeting everyone!" Yuri just sighed while Estelle and Karol giggled. "Always the charmer," he drawled with- and he'd deny it if confronted -a spark of fondness in his eyes.

[lunarlooroo]

Psst psst for the prompt: Could we have a jealous!Snape with the twins egging him on?

Seems like jealous Sev is rather popular, this is the second prompt I’ve gotten for him. Sorry for being rather late with this week’s ficlet, was pretty busy with the Lunar New Year. I tried to make it shortish, but well, here, have 2k words of plot with a dash of feels.

“Thanks again for this,” Heather giving Severus a quick peck, “I know how much you hate crowds.”

He sighed, questioning again why he had agreed to this. “A decision I am sure to regret.”

Smiling, Heather shook her head. “Probably, which is why I’m thanking you for going anyway. Now come on, Mrs Weasley is expecting us.”

With a quick turn, they disapparated.

Landing on the soft grass a small way away from the Burrow, Severus kept his hold firm on Heather’s arm. He had long gotten into the habit of steadying her through all sorts of wizarding transport. She had gotten somewhat better over the years. Somewhat.

He could hear the sounds of festivities from all the way here already. The Weasleys were a noisy bunch on any given day, but much more so when they had something to celebrate. And the wedding of self-proclaimed lifelong bachelor Charles Weasley was certainly a cause for celebration.

Molly had mostly given up hope for her dragon-loving son to even go for a date, believing he was simply uninterested in such things. That was, of course, when Charles went to a Sunday dinner with not one, but two partners, announcing his long-term relationship with both. She had been over the moon, of course, fussing over them with the ease of someone used to picking up strays.

Severus himself had never met them, but Heather said that they were very well-suited to Charles. For one thing, they both had the same mad passion for dragons he did. One of them, a witch, was another dragon tamer while the other, a wizard, was a healer for the dragons.

He wished Charles well for his bonding, of course. He had been one of the least troublesome of the Weasley brood, after Percy. However, he was far from looking forward to the loud and messy affair that would be the wedding. No doubt there would be an endless sea of redheads to wade through just to reach his seat.

How was he supposed to have declined Heather’s invitation though, when she looked at him with those wide eyes of hers and asked so earnestly? Quite honestly, she hadn’t even had to try hard to persuade him.

He was going soft in his old age.

“Oh, I see Fred and George!” Heather looked at him questioningly, giving him a choice.

He gave her hand a squeeze before nodding towards the twins. “I shall try to locate the refreshments table and meet you there,” he said, raising his voice slightly to be heard over all the background chatter.

A sweet smile graced her face. “Okay, I’ll see you.” Then she slipped her arm from his and ducked into the crowd. It amazed him that she had even found anyone among the throngs of people. She had probably used her magic to sense them.

Fortunately, the stride he had mastered for the sole purpose of getting students in his path to jump out of his way worked on the various guests and Weasley relatives as well. The forbidding expression he wore only helped speed things along.

“Severus, you made it!” Arthur, standing by the punch bowl, waved him over.

“Arthur,” he said, nodding in greeting, “Quite a party this is.”

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet. Wait until Aunt Muriel gets here. She doesn’t know Charlie’s marrying both Darcy and Vance.” The man looked entirely unconcerned that the old woman was undoubtedly going to be stirring trouble as soon as the ceremony started.

Seeing the look on his face, the older man said, “Oh don’t worry, she’s all bark and no bite. Besides, Bill will be around to keep her appeased. He always was her favourite.”

Well, it was hardly his concern. Might even make the whole affair more interesting. He gestured towards the drinks, remembering what he was here for.

“Oh, go ahead! Don’t worry, it isn’t spiked. I’ve been standing guard the whole time.”

He paused slightly at the comment, having not considered it before. Fred and George were in attendance, after all. He also knew that if they were determined to tamper with anything, a watchful eye would do nothing to stop them.

“…Or we have some unopened bottle of Butterbeer in storage, if you would prefer,” Arthur said sheepishly.

At that statement, the twin menaces popped into the scene.

“What trust out father has-”

“-truly, we are offended.”

“Would we really make trouble-”

“-at our own brother’s wedding?”

Arthur looked at his sons in exasperation. “Boys, you would. You have. Or do you not remember Percy’s?”

“Ahh, good times. But we’re changed men!”

“On our best behaviour today, we are!”

“Not a lick of trouble.”

“Except for the hippogriff, of course.”

“Wait, what hippogriff?!” Arthur asked, panicked.

“Not in the shed, that’s for sure,” both chimed innocuously.

The man paled before running off.

Fred and George high fived, cackling as they did so.

“There is no hippogriff, is there?” Severus said, stating the obvious. He merely raised a brow as one of them blatantly emptied a phial of bright red liquid into the punch bowl. They waited for him to comment on it, but he stayed out of it.

“Is Heather not with you?” he asked instead.

“She sent us to come find you-”

“-since you were taking so long.”

“Since my task here was to retrieve drinks,” he said looking at the punch bowl pointedly, “I suppose there is no point dawdling. Where did you see her last?”

“Sorry,” they said with utter insincerity. “Come on, then!”

The unrepentant brats. He clucked his tongue and followed their lead.

They wove through the mass of people with the ease of having grown up in a crowded and cluttered home. Severus noticed that the area they led to had a thinner crowd.

“Oh, eww,” Fred said, stopping suddenly.

George looked in the same direction his brother was. “Damn, who invited him?”

Severus was intrigued by the turn of events. It was rare for the two to genuinely dislike someone, but they seemed quite disgusted by whomever they were referring to.

“Oh no, the slimy git’s gunning for Heather!”

Sure enough, Severus finally caught sight of Heather, and the mysterious ‘slimy git’ the twins were talking about. He was surprised to see that it was a wizard whom most would describe ‘handsome’. He had the classic blue eyes and coiffed blond hair, looking disturbing like a Malfoy, smarm and all.

The two Weasley turned to him expectantly. “Well, what are you doing just-”

“-standing here? Get in there!”

“Before the stuck-up ponce puts his-”

“-moves on your lady!”

Severus scoffed. “Do not be preposterous. They are simply having a conversation.” Besides, Heather wasn’t one to be taken in by simple appearances.

George flapped his arms about in agitation. “You don’t get it! That’s Derek, our cousin-”

“Twice-removed!” Fred added, sneering.

“and he’s the most uppity bastard we know!”

“Including Malfoy!”

“But he can act like Prince Charming when-”

“-trying to woo a girl.”

“He’s a real rake, he is!”

“You are both ridiculous. Heather has too much sense to be fooled by such a man.” He knew for a fact that Heather quite disliked such self-styled Lotharios. Scars from her run-ins with Lockhart, most likely.

Fred’s lifted a brow, pointing in their direction. “Oh, is that so?”

To his horror, Heather and the man were standing far closer than was usual for new acquaintances, in avid discussion. She was gesturing animatedly, clearly interested in whatever they were talking about.

Like grindylows scenting blood, they pounced on his moment of hesitation.

“Come on Severus! Go show Derek who’s boss!”

“You need to rescue Heather from his evil manicured clutches!”

“Perhaps they are having an intellectual debate,” he muttered.

The twins both snorted.

“Oh please. Derek wouldn’t know intellectual-”

“-if you hit him in the face with it then forced it down his throat.”

When the man’s hand snuck out to rest on Heather’s arm was when Severus broke. He made a beeline for them, the anger in his strides making the surrounding people practically apparate out of his way.

Behind him, he could hear the blasted redheads hooting encouragement at him. He realised that he had been baited, but he was much too irritated to care. He would ream them out later.

Heather had her back to him as he approached, so it was the other man who saw him first. The ugly sneer that marred his face showed that he knew who Severus was.

“What is that Deatheater doing here?”

By Merlin, even his voice was grating.

Immediately, Severus could see that line of Heather’s shoulder’s tense. Without looking, he knew her expression would have frozen over, eyes flashing dangerously. She had never liked it when that word was used against him, even, or especially, by himself.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” Heather asked, smiling coldly, “I couldn’t hear you over all that noise.”

The idiot clearly couldn’t take a hint. He repeated what he said earlier, adding more colourful invective to his diatribe. Severus could practically feel the fury rolling off of Heather, though the other man was not nearly as perceptive. He didn’t bother trying to intervene, knowing Heather wouldn’t be stopped when she got this angry. Severus wasn’t really bothered by such insults himself, but he knew Heather could get rather impassioned about them. He would simply remain silent and watch the show.

“Look, David, was it?” Heather said, cutting him off in the middle of his rant.

“It’s Derek, actually,” he corrected, scowling.

“Dick,” Heather said, mishearing on purpose, “I believe you are mistaken. This is Severus Snape, Potions Master, Order of Merlin Second Class and my partner.”

“Are you sure the likes of him can be trusted with your business? Wouldn’t you prefer a more respectable man?” Such as myself, he didn’t have to say. The man shot Severus a condescending look.

Heather tilted her head mockingly. “I’m afraid I should have been clearer. Severus is my business partner, yes, but he is also my partner in a more personal sense. I understand that someone like you would feel intimidated when faced with a man as brilliant as Severus is, but there is no need to lash out with insults.”

The man was sputtering in outrage by this point, though Heather gave him no room to interject.

“I’m sure you could be a charming enough man, provided you tone down on all your more distasteful character traits, of course. Might I suggest you start with your hubris and ignorance? Of course, your problems of a more intimate nature can be easily solved with a simple Virility or Stamina Potion, both of which we sell at our shop for a very modest price.”

The idiot didn’t seem to comprehend the meaning of those words at first, but he eventually caught on. Severus watched with great amusement as his face grew Weasley red, the only familial resemblance he had seen thus far.

“Well, it’s been a pleasure, Dick,” Heather lied, bald-faced, while smiling guilelessly. Some people in the crowd who had gathered around them during the conversation snickered, not bothering to temper the sound.

Having just realised that they had an audience, the Lockhart-lookalike ducked his head in furious shame and scampered off with his tail tucked between his legs.

Beside him, Heather shook her head. They left the crowd behind, finding a more secluded spot before she started talking. “What an idiot. Can you believe the nerve of that man? You know he tried to explain to me the wonderful ‘new discovery’ of Runic Potions? A very abridged version, of course, since a mere witch like me couldn’t possibly understand the subtle intricacies required.”

“You looked like you were enjoying yourself before I arrived,” he said, as neutrally as he could.

She stilled a little at that, watching him carefully as she said, “Well, I was. It was actually rather hilarious listening to him make a fool of himself. I wonder how he’s going to react at the next Potions Conference when he sees me present my findings. I can’t believe he’s actually an apprentice.”

Severus felt rather silly for his earlier jealousy. “Ah, well, you have always tolerated dunderheads better than I,” he said stiltedly.

“Severus,” she said slowly, “is something the matter?”

“Nothing of the sort. Thank you for your fervent defence in my favour. You needn’t have bothered, however, as such people will think whatever they wish and no words from you could change them.”

Heather scoffed at that. “That doesn’t mean I have to stand there and let him fling insults at you! It’s infuriating that so many people still think the worst of you, even after all you’ve done.”

At this, Severus couldn’t help but smile. He truly didn’t mind what other people thought, so long as the people close to him knew what kind of man he was.

Even as a student, Heather had seen him for who he was. As a spy, he’d rarely been able to be himself, always being careful to check his every action, every word. Time spent in private with Heather, however, had always been when he was the most genuine.

Suddenly overcome with gratitude, he brought Heather close and placed a gentle kiss on her brow. He was not usually one for public displays, but he felt it was due here.

He could tell Heather was bemused by the sudden gesture, but she probed no further. Instead, they re-joined the party, hand in hand.

[wigglywormy]

forget the movie [kirishima/bakugou/kaminari, 2k~]

thx for the prompt! xoxo

---

They usually take turns on who’s in the middle during movie night, but if it’s a scary movie that Bakugou’s picked out, then Kaminari always gets dibs on the middle. Namely, because he’s fucking terrified of any and all horror movies and the only way he’ll sit down and watch it with Kirishima and Bakugou is if he’s snug in the middle, safe from harms way.

“Didn’t we watch a scary movie last time?” Kaminari complains, crossing his arms over his chest as Kirishima settles down to his right, warm even through their clothes.

“No. Kirishima made us watch all of the Shrek movies, remember?” Bakugou says, switching the lights off and then dropping down onto the couch on Kaminari’s other side. “Don’t be such a baby, this one isn’t even that scary.”

Kirishima snorts. “Don’t lie, Katsuki.”

“What?” Bakugou growls. “I’m fuckin’ not!”

“Does it have any jump scares?” Kaminari asks meekly. Bakugou sighs and wraps an arm around Kaminari’s waist. He stays silent though, and Kaminari takes that as a bad, bad sign. “Maybe, since you’ve obviously seen if before, we could watch something else - ”

“Denki,” Kirishima whispers, tossing his arm over the back of the couch and burying his fingers in Kaminari’s hair. “You know half the reason Bakugou picks these movies out anyways is because he secretly loves when you cling to him, you know.”

Kaminari feels his face heat up, and Bakugou grunts and reaches over to smack the back of Kirishima’s head. “Shut up shithead, the movie’s starting.”

Kaminari sinks further into the couch, Bakugou’s arm around his waist tightening in case he tries to run away from the film. Honestly, Kaminari could just close his eyes the entire time, but even the sounds and music scare him, god dammit. He’s never been a fan of horror, or halloween, or any of that freaky stuff. He’d prefer a good action or comedy any day, thank you very much.

The movie starts out a bit slow, but a jump scare hits the screen soon enough, around twenty minutes in.

“Fuckin’ lame,” Bakugou snorts, but then his gaze shifts to Kaminari, curled up in his side and clutching Bakugou’s shirt for dear life. His eyes are closed, squeezed shut tight, and Bakugou leans down so he’s whispering in the boy’s ear. “Oi. Open your eyes.”

Kaminari shakes his head, and Kirishima laughs as he drapes himself closer, kissing Kaminari’’s temple.

“C’mon, leave him be. If he wants to close his eyes the whole time, let him.”

Bakugou frowns. “No way. He made me sit through and pay attention to three whole romcom’s last month. Let him suffer.”

Kaminari peeks his eyes open for just a moment, but when something flashes on the screen he squeaks and shoves his face into Bakugou’s chest. “No. Nope. Nuh-uh.”

“Sparky,” Bakugou growls, tightening his fingers where they rest on Kaminari’s hip. His thumb brushes bare skin, where Kaminari’s shirt has ridden up, and the shorter teen shivers and yelps, clutching tighter at Bakugou’s shirt.

“What was that?” Kirishima asks, confused. “That wasn’t even a scary part, the protagonist is literally just eating lunch right now.”

“I’m just - ” Kaminari says, and he swallows when he hears Bakugou hum in thought. “Jumpy. I’m just jumpy, f-from the scene before.”

“Man, you really are scared of these types of movies,” Kirishima observes.

Kaminari is about to whole heartedly agree (maybe hoping they’ll both let him abandon the movie and save himself from nightmares tonight) but he’s interrupted with his own yelp when he feels a single finger pressing into the curve of his waist.

He tilts his head up towards Bakugou, and his eyes are on the screen, but he’s smirking, and oh no, this is bad. This is super bad, Kaminari thinks, slowly trying to inch away. The movie seems to have momentarily captured Bakugou’s attention, and okay, yes, this is his out, right here -

Right as he feels like he’s in the clear, Bakugou whips his gaze towards him before tugging him roughly back by the fabric of his tee shirt. Kaminari flails and gasps as Bakugou’s arm snakes around his waist, and this time, all of his fingers curl against his ribs on purpose.

Kaminari breaks down into giggles, but he quickly slams a hand over his mouth when Kirishima makes a noise of confusion.

“Okay, what’s going on here?” Kirishima questions, turning towards the other two boys on the couch.

Bakugou smirks. “Pikachu’s tickl - ”

“I’m not, I am not,” Kaminari says, waving his hands frantically. “I swear I’m... totally not.”

“Oh?” Kirishima says, widening his eyes at this new, incredibly interesting information.

“Yeah, watch this,” Bakugou says, hooking an arm across Kaminari’s chest to hold him still, then using his other hand to tickle his belly over his shirt.

Kaminari giggles and kicks his legs a bit, squirming in Bakugou’s hold.

“D-Don’t!”

“Wow, he’s super ticklish,” Kirishima grins, making Kaminari flush darkly as he tries to pry himself away from Bakugou’s exploring hands. “How come we didn’t know about this before?”

“Guys - ”

“Where else?” Kirishima pries, completely engrossed in this newfound information, because once Kirishima sets his mind on something, there’s no stopping the rampage that comes in its wake. He scoots closer on the couch, and there’s no malice in his voice, just genuine curiosity, when he says, “Where are you the most ticklish?”

Kaminari flushes. “But…. but I’m not - ”

Bakugou’s still got an around around his middle, so the sudden pinch to his ribs shouldn’t be all that surprising, but Kaminari still yelps and flails, luckily somehow managing to weasel out of Bakugou’s hold.

Right into Kirishima’s waiting arms.

“Damn, he’s slippery,” Bakugou comments, pressing close so Kaminari is sandwiched between them, half on Kirishima’s lap as he’s given up trying to escape and has finally accepted his fate.

“If you tell us, we’ll be nice,” Kirishima promises, but Kaminari knows them both. He knows Kirishima would keep his word. But Bakugou? Bakugou would probably literally kill Kaminari if he found out where he was the most ticklish -

If he was ticklish. Which he’s…. not. Of course. Not at all.

He decides playing oblivious is his safest option here, because none of his other options end in freedom anyways, so.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kaminari mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest and averting his eyes to the ceiling as he feels Kirishima kiss the nape of his neck softly.

The movie is still playing in the background, but no one is paying attention to it any longer. Bakugou’s extremely close now, his hands gripping Kaminari’s knees, and when he smiles, it’s more like a sneer, full of a million and one ideas and promises that Kaminari knows he’s going to absolutely hate.

“I don’t like liars,” Bakugou says, squeezing right above Kaminari’s knees, which causes him to jerk and nearly kick his leg out. He refrains, somehow, and crosses his arms tighter.

Fingers wedging themselves under his arms surprise him though, and he makes a strangled sound and arches his back, his arms uncrossing from their position as he flails. Kirishima laughs, his fingers pausing for a moment but staying in place, and Kaminari prays to whatever gods are up there that his boyfriends are going to be nice to him.

The gods, apparently, aren’t listening very well tonight.

Bakugou bats Kirishima’s hands out of the way, and Kaminari nearly breathes a sigh of relief before he’s squealing as Bakugou’s fingers get shoved in his armpits instead, tickling like he’s searching for a damn confession (which, Kaminari guesses, he sort of is), and Kaminari can’t stop the broken gasp that escapes his throat.

It takes a moment, because Kaminari is pretty good at holding his ground, but once Kirishima’s hands find their way to his ribs, he bursts into a flurry of giggles and sparks, tiny electric zings shooting out from his hands as he squeezes his eyes shut and laughs.

“There it is,” Kirishima chuckles.

“Two against one is s-so unf-fair!” Kirishima protests, and when Kirishima noses behind his ear, Kaminari accidentally snorts around his next giggle.

Bakugou’s cheeks go a bit pink and his eyes lock with Kirishima’s. “Oh.”

“That was - ”

“Real fuckin’ cute,” Bakugou finishes for him, and Kaminari wants to die. Bakugou is so scarce when giving compliments, that when he does offer one unthinkingly, Kaminari knows he means it tenfold. He can’t tell if that’s more embarrassing or not, but either way, he wishes the couch would just swallow him whole at this point.

“He still hasn’t told us where he’s the most ticklish,” Kirishima pouts after a minute or two of torturing Kaminari.

“I got this,” Bakugou says, and then he’s gripping Kaminari face in his hand, his other hand still tracing teasingly along the grooves of his ribs. “Tell us, or we’ll do this all night.”

“Mean,” Kaminari pants, but he knows Bakugou isn’t joking. He pouts and averts his eyes. “If I tell you, you gotta promise to ….. To be nice, okay?”

He knows he can’t ask them to just not explore, because it’s gonna happen whether he wants it to or not. At least by asking this (because Kirishima is the loyal boyfriend, and he can trust the redhead to shove Bakugou off if he gets too intense) he can ensure he won’t, well. Die, or something.

“We promise,” Kirishima coos, and Kaminari shivers when Bakugou just nods silently.

“Um. It’s. Uh,” Kaminari stutters out, feeling his cheeks heat up significantly. “B-behind my knees?”

Bakugou immediately stretches one of his legs out, and Kaminari made the unfortunate decision to wear shorts today. He whines quietly and covers his face with his hands. Bakugou has one hand gripping his ankle, keeping his leg pulled taut, and as soon as a single finger strokes along the back of his knee where the skin is the most soft and sensitive, Kaminari’s whole body jerks, and Kirishima winds his arms tightly around Kaminari’s waist so he doesn’t topple everyone off the damn couch.

“Please - ” Kaminari gasps, but then he’s breaking down into hysterical giggles, snorting softly as his wasted attempts at pleading fall on deaf ears. His leg trembles as Bakugou grins at him, curling his fingers around Kaminari’s knee and using his nails to flutter against the skin, and it’s torture, oh god. Kaminari’s whole body feels electrified, and when Kirishima’s fingers curl against his stomach, prodding around his navel, Kaminari is sure he’s going to die.

“Damn, Sparky,” Bakugou comments, methodically and merciless tickling the skin behind Kaminari’s knee, occasionally drifting further up to pinch behind his thigh. “It’s that bad?”

“Y-yes - I can’t - ” Kaminari gasps and squeals, giving up on squirming aggressively and instead just writhing, defeated, in Kirishima’s arms. “Please s-s-stop!”

“Okay, okay, c’mon, Katsuki,” Kirishima says softly, and Kaminari almost sobs with relief when the hands stop completely. His body feels tingly, his face red and eyes damp with unshed tears, and he heaves a deep breath as he goes limp completely against Kirishima’s chest, his eyes fluttering a bit when Bakugou smoothes his palms up his legs, fitting himself fully in between them so he can lean forward and nose along Kaminari’s flushed cheek.

“That was fun.”

Kaminari glares, but there’s no real malice. “Yeah, for you.”

Kirishima laughs. “What Katsuki is trying to say, is that…. Well, it’s fun, because we like making you laugh!”

“Uhhgg,” Kaminari bemoans as his face heats up more, and he quickly covers his cheeks with his palms as he feels the warmth blossom. “You guys are so embarrassing. Don’t do that ever again.”

“Stop being so fucking cute, then,” Bakugou grumbles, sounding physically frustrated, and Kirishima laughs louder when Kaminari squeaks again in embarrassment and amazement because two compliments from Bakugou…. In one day? Kaminari feels blessed, and honestly, he wouldn’t really mind getting tickled every day, if it’s by his two boyfriends.

But only then.

[souridealist]

Slightly belated Yuletide roundup!

WHAT I WROTE:

I had five works in the collection this year, which is a personal best by far: Imperial Radch, the video game Black Closet, "Brandy (You're a Fine Girl)", and two for Ursula Vernon's Digger.

Imperial Radch: A Good Friend to Have: Uran and Athoek Station, G, 800 words, no archive warnings apply. A post-canon flashfic about evolving terms of address.

“Why do you still call us Radchaii?” Uran asked, leaning back against the wall. He ran his gloves against the welded seam of the wall next to him, like he was stroking a companion animal or a very close friend. Station couldn’t feel the gesture, either through the wall or through Uran’s hands, but it could see. “It’s been months.”

Brandy: All the Great Wide Sea: Brandy-centric, featuring Brandy/her unnamed lover. G, 600 words, no archive warnings. A short fic about Brandy considering new options.

It wasn’t only men who piled into the bar with a purse full of silver and a head full of tales, either. You got the occasional woman coming along, as tattoo-mottled and shaggy-haired as the men, in ragged trousers and oft-patched shirts. One quiet night Brandy wound up pouring sweet red wine for a woman with three brass rings punched through one ear and the five-thousand-mile swallow tattooed on the back of her hand.

Black Closet: Raise Bid to 31 Pieces of Silver: Rowan/Elsa, T, 1.5K, no archive warnings. A traitorous Rowan turns in an intentionally failed assignment and begins to suspect that Elsa knows her secret.

“You know,” Elsa said. “Mallory’s a good girl, and she can blend in with a crowd all right, but I’ve never had trouble noticing when she comes into a room. She draws the eye.” Mallory was pretty enough, Rowan thought. Bright hair. “But you…” Elsa said, pushing back her chair. “You’re so quiet, when you want to be. It’s a gift.”

Digger: Comparative Theology: Murai, Jhalm, Digger, and Shadowchild. G, 3k, no archive warnings. Four scenes exploring each character's relationship with the divine.

. Later in life, Jhalm revisited the temple and learned of the great wars of attrition that Teshia’s priests fought over the herb beds: the Invasive Plant Debates, the Three Or Possibly Four Basil Varietals, and the Mint Idiot, who planted mint in the ground to run riot over the temple. But as a child he’d always found the gardens peaceful, and he’d loved taking home the sacred packages each worshiper was given, leaves from Teshia’s garden dried over the sacred Hearthflame. He used to press the twists of burlap to his nose and inhale something both delicious and sacred. Once one of the priests caught him at it: Cassandra of the straight gray braids and straight-pressed robes. Jhalm jumped, squeaking, and shoved the herbs into his bag.

Digger: Anything That Talks: Murai and Jhalm, G, 2k, no archive warnings.Jhalm's patrol of the Veiled meets another, more ordinary demon, and Murai and Jhalm have a conversation about authority, the past, and how to be good.

“I eat what I will,” it said, slithering forward. Murai could just see the roots of the trees in its coils. She doubted the little stand of elms would last for very long after this. “I eat the shadows of great and small, of weak and of mighty. Yours, impertinent creature – ah, yours is fascinating, strange and dark and deep. So hard-edged, in such a bright light. You will be…” It moved forward, again – between the flanking arms of the Veiled. “Delicious.”

“I see,” Murai said, stepping easily back. “Captain Jhalm, I believe we should kill this creature, if you will give the order.”

WHAT I RECEIVED:

The Touching of Lips by Prinzenhasserin. Queen's Thief, "Five times Costis wanted to kiss Kamet and one time he did." This is a delightful story about five people making Costis think about how much he wants to kiss Kamet; each scene is a beautifully drawn, distinct sketch, and the payoff is delightful. I wanted Costis/Kamet so badly after Thick as Thieves, and this was lovely to receive.

Antelope Dreams by ambyr. Summer in Orcus, "When she was eleven, Summer thought she was very nearly an adult. At seventeen, she's starting to understand how much she has to learn." This is a glorious postcanon fic about growing up, and living with the legacy of Orcus, and being a well-behaved Good Kid (tm) with a crush on a Bad Kid (tm), and Summer remembering the antelope woman and realizing she's a queer furry. It's perfectly in-tone and beautiful.

AUTHORIAL CHATTERING ON WHAT I WROTE:

Yes, I shall continue to do this. Yes, with all five of them. But under a cut!

A Good Friend to Have: This one was a really interesting experience, because I originally wrote it using she/her pronouns for Uran, since canon does. It wasn't unti coming back to it later that I remembered that Uran is briefly identified as male in Delsig, and that if I was leaving the 'Citizen' honorific as Radchaai, I was 'translating' out of Delsig. And thus shoud use he/him pronouns. I really love the series's use of 'she' as a neutral pronoun, and everything that choice creates, and I was pretty hesitant to step away from it -- but it's also a very central conceit of the story that Uran isn't hearing Radchaai the way a native speaker would hear it. Which means Uran needs to use he/him. Going through and changing that was the most annoyingly fiddly editing task I have ever fucking undertaken, but also... really damn interesting to do! The pronouns were all I changed, and it still shifted my mental image of Uran's body language and physical presence a lot.

This was also published with what was originally its working title, which I don't think I've ever done before; occasionally the right title has come to me by the time I have to save the word document (almost always when the fic is written in one sitting), but this wasn't meant to be final and then I realized I liked it better than anything I could come up with. It's a direct quote from canon: Breq's comment when Uran mentions talking to Station in the second book.

All the Great Wide Sea: The prose is so purple here. I had so much fun writing it. It's a short, open-ended fic written all in a hurry because I thought the collection closed a day sooner than it did, and I basically just threw women sailors, running off to sea to join your man, and Age of Sail tavern imagery together with gleeful abandon. The 'being metamours with the ocean' theme isn't explored as thoroughly as I'd like, but... I couldn't resist adding the tag because I amuse myself too much. I'd never written fic for a song fandom before, even though the existence of it is one of my favorite things about Yuletide before; I'm glad I finally did.

Raise Bid to 31 Pieces of Silver: This title is... a thing. I refused to let mysef name it 'Silver and Hemp,' because this is not a religious fic and for fuck's sake come up with a better reference for a fic about treachery, but, well. I could not, in fact, come up with a better reference. But I did manage to at least include the idea of being tempted out of treachery, and I like the implicit cynicism of the bid thing. Because, you know: Machiavellian secret-police teenagers.

This was a great prompt, and I made a beeline straight for a traitor!Rowan/Elsa worldstate, because that is my favorite route hands down. This is also the first time in I don't know how long that I've used jealousy as a shippy plot device! I don't usually like it, and I don't find it cute in any way; but this isn't meant to be a cute fic, and part of what I love about this fandom is that it's an all-female cast where everyone gets to have a lot of rough edges.

Oh, and I also got to play around with incorporating game mechanics into the story! I fucking love trying to de-abstract game mechanics in a way that doesn't contradict what you actually see. As if you couldn't tell from me regularly sneaking that shit into Dragon Age fic.

Comparative Theology: This was actually my second attempt at my main assignment! I wanted to do a post-canon adventure that involved everyone meeting up while Digger tried to get home, and then everyone having to share anecdotes from their past (since my recipient mentioned liking fic about 'how people get to where they are'), but I just. Could not make it work. I'd had the idea of writing a set of thematically-linked vignettes in the back of my head as a backup, and the idea of linking them specifically by theology clicked just as the deadline started to really intensely loom. And thus! It's a pretty baggage-heavy theme to use, and I did worry about that -- especially in a gift fic -- but, well. The tagline is "A wombat. A dead god. A very peculiar epic." I figured I was probably safe. And one of my favorite things about the comic is what it does with the relationship between the human (or... worshiper of various species) and the divine.

I drew on a bunch of Ursula Vernon's print work as well as the actual comic (though I still got a lot of my own particular High Drama all over the prose, trying to capture the tone of things like the Saltlace sequence in words. The line about the Mint Idiot is in there entirely because I was like 'this voice is drifting way too far back towards just me. QUICK, ADD SOME PLANTS.' The Baba Yaga line is a direct reference to Summer in Orcus too.

I may eventually try and salvage what I had of my original attempt. I hewed closer to canon tones, I think, and I had some good fucking Jabberworck dialogue.

Anything That Talks: This one is secretly my baby. I was surprised to find myself really interested in Jhalm on later read-throughs, because I wasn't the first time; but it turned out I wanted to poke at him. And I really wanted to poke at Murai's decision to be his leash, and at what that might look like, and how she would choose to do it. Twisty power dymanics! The power actually lying with the person with less outward authority! Using one's own weakness as a source of strength! Very rigid people needing to bend or die, and what that costs! MY SHIT. (And I didn't actually realize that last was, in fact, something I keep revisiting until this moment, but hm. This sure is the third fic on that theme I've posted since November.)

Something I absolutely did not do intentionally during this fic and then noticed in the editing: I don't reference color anywhere in this fic other than 'cold white-glowing eyes.' Perils of writing for a black-and-white comic! (I didn't do that in either 'Comparative Theology' or my false start; fic isn't canon, text isn't a comic, and you've got to use the medium you're working with. But I left it alone for this one; I liked it.)