#notably did not buy a single drink that night

[truecorvid]

i feel like this is my longest lasting hangover yet -_-

[somethin-stupid-67]

BCS HC's because I've been up all night and the brain rot is unreal

JIMMY/SAUL:

(More Saul?) Loves himself a cocktail, the sweeter the better. Fruity cocktails for a fruity little man. Only thing he can’t stand about them is how overpriced they are, no matter where he orders them.

Very strongly considered buying rings when he married Kim. Something about the symbolism stuck with him and really wanted their marriage, business arrangement or not, to present as more “socially official.” Would’ve definitely had them engraved with Wexler-McGill on the inside of the bands, too.

Eventually became pretty good at the guitar. Still struggles with tuning it and has, on more than one occasion, had a meltdown while attempting to replace broken strings.

Loves his white Cadillac, but definitely misses his Esteem.

KIM:

Smokes whatever cigarettes are on hand but is a ride-or-die menthol enjoyer.

The only person allowed to call her “Kimmy” is her mother. Jimmy tried once and wound up in a long,  long conversation about her distaste of the nickname.

Similarly, she doesn’t go by her full first name (at least professionally) because she feels it’s too preppy/thinks Kimberly Wexler sounds too much like the name of a ditzy blonde side character in a John Hughes movie.

Talkative drunk. Will have a conversation with anyone about nearly anything. Out for drinks and there’s a game on TV? She’s chatting up the nearest patron about every. single. play. Song she recognizes comes on the radio? She’s breaking down the lyrics, symbolism, and the artist’s motivation for writing it. Will apologize profusely the next morning for “talking too much.” Jimmy, naturally, finds it absolutely adorable and insists she shouldn’t feel bad.

NACHO:

Extremely shy as a child!

Grew up listening to/singing along with classic Mexican love songs and sings them softly to himself when completing any sort of task that doesn’t require a lot of focus. Very few people have actually heard him sing, but those who have all tell him he has a lovely voice.

He’d be lying if he said he disliked Lalo calling him “Nachito.”

Huge fan of an ice-cold Coke Zero.

Easily cries at tv shows and movies, most notably if there’s a trope pertaining to a father and son. Less than five seconds into a commercial for the ASPCA/Humane Society and he has tears in his eyes.

LALO:

In the rare instances he’s able to sleep more than an hour or two at a time, he snores. LOUD. Like, keeping the house up half the night loud.

If it wasn’t for his responsibilities to the “family business,” he would have pursued work as either a professional chef or professional hitman. Yes, the two couldn’t be farther from each other. Yes, they somehow both make total sense.

Would’ve 1000% slept with Nacho or Jimmy if the situation presented itself.

Opposite to Nacho, he was an extremely outgoing child. He was the type of kid to wander off with other children or walk up to total strangers and introduce himself.

Initially bothered by how quickly his hair went grey, but once he found out women (and men) thought it made him more attractive he never gave it a second thought.

HOWARD:

Strong aversion to water. He’ll get into a swimming pool and that’s about it, but even then he won’t go out farther than he can stand. His fear of drowning is the only thing preventing him from becoming a triathlete.

Keeps a photo of his parents in his wallet.

Definitely has anxiety. His tells used to be much more obvious when he first became an attorney (leg bouncing, shakiness in voice) but he has since been able to control it, most of the time. It’s a part of what keeps him up at night, why he’ll always opt for tea, and why he picked up boxing and cycling. It almost never interferes with his work the way it once did, but every now and again he can be seen swiftly pacing around his office or picking the skin around his fingers.

Despite his agility/flexibility, he’s an absolutely terrible dancer. Even in a bout of romance, an after-dinner slow dance in his own home proves he has two left feet.

Mailroom Era Jimmy definitely called him “Pretty Boy” to piss him off. It made him blush and/or stutter every time without fail and it took both Chuck and his father to convince him that Jimmy was insulting him and didn’t mean it as a compliment.

[second-wife-playbook]

The banquet hall was quite grand in all respects. Paintings on the wall of a Dionysian banquet with nypmhs, dryads, maenads and satyrs eating with relish decorated the hall, and there were musicians strumming at their lyres and playing the panpipes to indulge the crowd. Though Coronis had been summoned by her brother, she saw several other notables...family friends, seated around the table as well.

"Well. Aren't you dressed up for tonight?"

Her brother's icy voice came through almost amused. He was the paler of the three siblings, with fair blonde hair so pale it was almost white. He wore the robes of a patriar...the head of the family, and lounged in his chair as if it were a throne. Coronis squirmed under his prying gaze.

And he was not the only one. Stella, regal, beautiful, and terrifying, turned her head and scowled.

"What's this? Back home one night and already buying pretty things for yourself?" She said, almost an open accusation as she eyed the fine fabric bound around Coronis's head. "You didn't take long."

Coronis knew better than to question or indulge. She curtsied. "Good evening everyone. Thank you for inviting me."

"Of course. You've been gone for over two months now. Sit, eat. We have much to discuss."

Though the discussion didn't begin with her. Coronis sat, eating in tiny bites. Drinking more than anything. She made herself very small in her chair, doing her best not to draw notice from the conversing group. They talked and gossiped, upcoming banquets and parties, plans for Lupercallia, and so forth. She had hoped, in some small manner, she'd be overlooked and forgotten.

"So. It appears you have run afoul of the seas since you've left." Andrealphus said suddenly, making her flinch. "What could have gone wrong? I sent one of my very best ships along to see you to our venerable Grandfather."

"A-a storm. It blew us off course." She said quickly. "The ship ran aground of sharp rocks and I had to swim for the nearest island."

"Did you remember to give offerings to to sea before you left?"

"Y-Yes Andrealphus."

"All of them? You made offerings to all the gods of the sea?"

She felt more nervous by the moment. He kept up questions like this, picking prying. Why had she not instructed the captain to sail south, where the seas were calmer instead of the route north? Where was her escort in all this? How could she fail to send a single letter while in the care of Mox and Mili, if only to ascertain a proper chaperone was given?

There were no right answers. Coronis felt as if she was being twisted in a net, and could only squirm under the barrage.

"Oh well." He sighed. "It's done. You'll have to visit the Acropolis tomorrow and give your respects. Properly, this time." He said coldly. "Do not forget it was the gods that spared you."

"Yes Andrealphus, thank you." Coronis said hastily. "I-I'll take all the proper offerings." She stood. "May I be excused? I should say my prayers before I go to visit tomorrow."

"Yes. And make sure an escort takes you and your handmaiden." He waved off. "Run along now."

Coronis could not leave soon enough.

The Siren Call: Little Mermaid AU

@the-only-noonstar

The journey had been planned as a small getaway. A trip to visit her ailing grandfather in the nearby archipelago. Forneas was aging fast, and his wits had gone, so Coronis was sent to soothe him for a few months before she was to return home to Athens. Her grandfather lived in the Aegean Sea, on a island meant for leisure and health.

The trip was thwarted by a heavy storm that blew it far off course. Coronis had been made seasick and forced below deck with a swimming head and a nauseous stomach. She was mostly asleep when the ship sunk.

Though the captain was well seasoned and worth his salt, and the crew all able-bodied men with many voyages...something lured them off course. And the rocks that laid in wait under the surf cracked the ship open like a oyster, sending its inhabitants screaming to the depths.

When Coronis woke, her cabin was half submerged, her clothes soaked through. She barely managed to paddle to the open door, but the water poured in and she felt herself beginning to sink.

A dark sky hung above. She tried to hold her breath, but her fear seized her, made her limbs to lead. Am I going to die? She thought in a fit of terror, feeling the cold water pressing in hard, the salt trying to force its way in. Is...is this really the end for me?

She tried to swim. But her arms might as well have belonged to a lame duck. Coronis held her breath as long as she could, but a single gasp filled her mouth with seawater and she felt her vision grow spotty.

Poseidon, Hades, Artemis....She made a frantic prayer with her last conscious thought. I beg....forgiveness. Guide me to asphodel meadows...grant me peace-

It all turned dark.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Regular: Part 1 - Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: you’re a dancer at a club, but that doesn’t mean you have to put on a show for everyone. Especially not if Geto’s paying. 

word count: 2.6K

tw: nudity, small nsfw thoughts

Lipstick? Check. 

Eyeshadow? Check.

Eyelashes? Check. 

The eyes that stare back at you are your own, but for a minute, you’re lost in your own brown, doe-eyed gaze. Transfixed, you wish you could see what they saw when they looked at you. You wish someone would fix every mirror in your vicinity to display the person people thought you were. Maybe then you’d understand. 

“Y/n!” The manager of the club - Mrs. Lampton - bursts through the dressing room door eagerly, pushing against the weighted frame with ease. “We have a lot of new faces out there. Are you ready to go on in ten?” The look in Mrs. Lampton’s eyes had never been brighter, and you blink at her twice, wondering if the woman had forgotten that you walked into the strip club without coercion, and you would do your job just the same. 

“I’m here, aren’t I?” The rhetorical question makes Mrs. Lampton laugh, her amusement ringing out in the mostly empty dressing room. 

“You’re funny, girl. I’ll make sure they play your favorite songs.” Without another word, she leaves, and you’re alone again, placing a single pastie on each nipple. New faces… 

You hadn’t seen very many new people in the club since you’d been hired three months ago. It was always the same four men that came to see you during your weekday four o’clock shift, and a mix of the same faces during your ten o’clock dance on Friday evenings, when the club was full of men looking for an escape between the valley of your B-cups. 

There was Aiko, the man who had completely given up on love and decided to get his affection from you when he got paid every two weeks with a simple lap dance. Then you helped Kohi with his fantasies: he had admitted to you that he could only fuck his girlfriend with his eyes closed and couldn’t think of anyone else except the girls in the club, you especially. Takeru was no different, just a little more handsy than you had originally expected when allowing him into the VIP room. And finally, you had the pleasure of meeting a new regular named Yuma just last month. Yuma was young, bright-eyed, and had a carefree attitude that also affected his wallet. Out of the four, he was the best tipper and admittedly, the sweetest… but those were your only four regulars. 

The rest of the dancers at the club had at least enough regulars to count on both hands, but you were stuck with the smallest group. As such, you were given the shittiest shift, but you didn’t mind. The pay was enough to make up for rent and some extra expenses, but during the day, you were dedicated to working with your aunt in her flower shop. 

You saw an array of men there, too, and the regulars there were almost as frequent as the ones here. Thankfully, this club was on the other side of town - the richer side - and you would go unnoticed in your ink black wig and heavy makeup in the dim lights. 

You adjust your garters in the mirror, and slide the matching black lace bra over your pasty covered breasts. Tonight, there are new customers, and one of the new faces might potentially become a regular. Your regular. 

You swing the door open and walk through the blue-lighted hallway to the carpeted space before the stage steps, watching the girl before you - a tall, thin blonde named Hannah - slide down the pole upside down, earning a few cheers from the gathered crowd. You don’t get to see her finish due to the obstructed view as you gather your towel and spray it with rubbing alcohol, but you do hear the DJ call her name as she exits. Hannah brushes past you without speaking, shaking her head at the wad of cash and solid red bra in her hands. 

“Slow night?” you ask, and she turns around to face you, her blonde braid swinging over her shoulder. She raises a brow and then - in a rare show of kindness - mumbles: 

“There’s a real spender in that crowd, but he wants nothing to do with me. Watch out for those blue eyes; they’re really distracting.” You whip your head back to look at the pole, your fingers tightening around the damp terry cloth. When you look back, Hannah is disappearing into the dressing room, too far gone to ask about the blue eyes comment. 

Barefoot, you step up the stairs, and the DJ croons, “Next up is our loveliest newbie, y/n…” A slow song begins as you work your way around the pole with your towel, cleaning off any and all dirt and grime left behind from the previous girls with seduction. It was simple, really: twirling your hips and dancing around the pole was enough to make even the most stoic man soften. You were every man’s fantasy in that moment: a cleaning whore. When you finish your work, you find the cold, slick surface of the spin pole, and work your way up, feeling the pressure against the tops of your bare feet. It wasn’t unusual for you to leave with slightly bruised ankles or a “pole kiss” at your thigh. But it was all worth the extra money. Bruises faded away. Bills did not.

When you invert and grab the pole behind you, there is a sense of calm as you spin around like a siren, looking for the infamous blue eyes. It isn’t until you’re back on the floor that you see them - he’s across the room, eyes staring directly at you with white furrowed brows perched precariously above them. 

As you keep track of the single dollar bills being deposited on the stage in front of you, you notice another new face beside him, leaning in to whisper something while his eyes flick away. When you fan kick around the pole twice, you see the face - black eyes and black hair in a half-bun - turn towards you with a smile. The smile isn’t innocent, but when were smiles in the club anything less? You return the smile with sincerity, finding the two men completely captivating. 

But you have other customers to attend to; most notably, Yuma. His cherub face and tender green eyes are watching you from the bottom of the stage, his face in an entranced smile. 

“Y/n!” he yells over the music, holding up a one-hundred dollar bill. You dismount from the pole and crawl on your hands and knees toward the youth, whose lips quirk up in a playful smirk. 

“It’s good to see you here,” you breathe, dropping your voice an octave to seem more alluring. Yuma buys it hook, line, and sinker - as he always did - and slides the dollar bill between the garter and your see-through stockings. “See any good movies lately?” you wonder, letting him pet your leg tenderly. 

“You’ll really like the newest addition to the Hanged Man trilogy,” he begins, eyes roving over your figure salaciously. Yuma hooks a finger around your garter and gives it a gentle snap;  you huff out a laugh before rolling your neck around. “I’ll take you to see it, if you want.” 

“That would be so nice,” you purr back, arching your hips until he can practically feel your ass pushing into his hand. “I would love nothing more than that.” 

“I’ll buy a dance tonight and give you the details.” Yuma knows his time is short and waves a hand over your spine before retreating, his eyes staying with you as you unfurl from the floor. You have no intention of meeting Yuma outside of the club, but you have to admit that if you hadn’t met him in here, you probably would have attempted to pursue him. 

A fast song means that you’re coming to the second part of your three-part dance, and your fingers make quick work of your pointless bra. When it drops to the ground, you can feel eyes drawn to your unclothed upper body grinding on the pole. Your eyes flick back to the blue-eyes man in the corner, and you find he’s alone staring at his phone in the darkness. 

Why is he even here? you wonder, hooking a leg around the metal before swinging your back leg up. As you swing around with your head leaned back, you catch his handsome companion at the bottom of the stage, arm muscles rippling under his white button down. He’s counting his money, you realize, and take that as a sign that he might be beholden to making a generous donation. It isn’t until he holds out two hundred dollar bills that you stop, and he places it on the stage, patting it twice. You make your way back over to the stranger, eyeing him carefully under your heavy eyelashes as he leans in to speak. 

“Very generous,” you note, and he gives a sheepish smile as he tucks the bills into the side of your g-string. “To whom do I owe the pleasure?” 

“You can call me Geto.” His voice, calm and strong, washes over you like a burst of fresh air, and you notice he doesn’t seem nervous at all, despite appearing shy. 

“You can touch me,” you offer, but he places both hands back on the stage, staring into your eyes. 

“I’d rather do that privately. How much for a VIP room with you for the evening?” Your eyes flick to Yuma, who is happily downing a drink at the bar and settling his tab. 

“I… have one dance I have to --” 

“He hasn’t paid yet.” Another one-hundred dollar bill slides across the stage. “I’ll make it worth your while.” Another bill. “All of this,” Two more bills. “for one night.

Six hundred dollars. That was three times as much as you made on a regular night.

“And take this off.” You think he’s going to tug at your lingerie, but instead, he tugs a strand of your wig, and you frown. 

“I…” 

“Your real hair is brown.” He offers, raising his brows as if to challenge the denial working its way up your throat. You are a brunette. 

“P-pay the red-haired lady at the bar. Tell her you’re requesting the VIP room with me,” you stammer.

“I’d rather make sure all the money makes it into your pocket.” Your mouth dries up, but you have to finish your last song. The man notices your nerves, and jerks his chin at you slightly, a soft smile pulling at his lips. “No worries. I’ll see you in there.” 

As you’re wiping down, you feel your chest constrict slightly. Takeru and Yuma were the only ones who had actually been in the VIP room with you, but that had only been twice in your three months there. They had paid the bare minimum - two hundred dollars - to see you fully naked, touching yourself in front of them and allowing them to spread you bare for observation. There were no holds barred in there except fucking, but if this man could afford to drop three times the amount it cost to reserve the room for himself… Mrs. Lampton would most likely let him do as he pleased. For a moment, you consider Yuma being disappointed and downtrodden that you couldn’t give him at least one lap dance before the end of the night, but you had to go with this new stranger, if just for tonight. 

“Hey, y/n…” Mrs. Lampton pokes her head into the dressing room again. “The VIP room is ready for you. Your client is in there; you’ll be alone, as requested.” Not even a fucking security guard.

The stairs up to the absolutely private area are steep, but you somehow wobble your way up there in your red, satin teddy and black robe. When you open the door to the room, the wall maps give a soft golden glow to the space, illuminating the couches and mirror on the back wall. One-way glass separates you from view of the other patrons down below, now enjoying another show from another girl. Usually, a security guard would post himself on this side of the wall, observing the free show with the stoicism of a statue. 

But tonight, it’s you and Geto. He lazes on a couch, both arms splayed across the light brown fabric as you enter the room. His black eyes follow you as you pad toward him, watching his every move. You stop in front of the man, locking eyes with him as you undo the tie at your waist and let the silk robe fall to the ground. His lips part and he spreads his legs, beckoning you forward with his right forefinger and middle finger. 

Silently, you make your way to him, planting yourself between his long legs and looking down. “Kneel.” Your breath hitches in your throat, but you sink to your knees anyways, keeping your eyes on him. As he leans over you, you think the worst is about to happen and squeeze your eyes and mouth shut. When his fingers find the nape of your neck, you flinch, but feel your hair tie slide off of the braid in your hair. He smells like sandalwood - you note - much unlike the other men you encountered in the club. They often reeked of booze and smoke, or something much grimer. 

His fingers work their way through your locks, separating the strands with ease before retracting. Your hair cascades around your face like a curtain, and he leans back, resuming his previous position. “You can dance if you’d like.” Instantly, you rise from the wooden floor and begin running your hands up your waist and to your chest, swirling your hips around to the sensual music playing through the speakers. Geto observes you with a tilted head, squinting his eyes when you play with the feathered hem of your teddy. You don’t lift it over your head, opting to tease him to his limit instead of giving him exactly what he wanted right away. 

His black eyes roam over your figure repeatedly, watching your hips sway and fingers wind into your hair without changing. He leans forward when you take a step back, lacing his fingers together in front of him calmly. You step back into his reach, and he shifts suddenly, startling you so bad that you stop moving entirely. 

“Sorry,” he hisses, adjusting his seating. “It’s a little uncomfortable to sit like that right now.” You let out a nervous chuckle and resume your movements, unsure if you’re ready to remove your lingerie or not. “I’m not going to ask you to take it off.” The admission makes you pause, but you continue to dance anyways. 

“Why?”

“Why would I?” He tosses back, shrugging.

“You get to see everything in here. That’s what you paid for, right?” 

“I paid for you to dance for me alone. I want a private show; not something anyone can watch for free.” 

“Do you want to touch me?” 

“Not yet.” 

And he didn’t for the rest of the time he spent there that night. Before he left the room, he pressed a couple of hundreds into your palm then opened the door and walked out. You had never experienced anything quite like it, but with the extra cash in your hand as you walked out of the club, you prayed to the stars that you would see this unicorn just one more time.

[buckys-black-dress]

stargazing (bucky barnes x fem!reader)

a/n: so this idea totally just came to me because this trope is honestly so cute and i love these and i need to get this out of my system. i listened to stargazing by the neighborhood while writing this and i LOVE this song, so i’d recommend listening while reading! (just listen to the whole album).

also-- happy new year! 2020 quite literally fucked us up but im so grateful this year was the one where i decided to come on here and share my work with yall. i love every single one of my readers, so THANK YOU! anyways, without further ado...

enjoy my dearies!!! -ali

wc: 2.8k

- 

When you first became best friends with Rebecca Barnes in preschool, the last place you’d expected to end up was with a massive crush on her older brother.

James, or Bucky, as he likes to be called my his close friends, was basically the perfect guy for you. He was kind, witty, and didn’t treat you like a child. (Anymore). 

Now that you had graduated high school and were in you first year of college, Bucky was in his second year. And things were getting rough. 

You were a Cognitive Psychology major, and your main interest was in becoming an occupational therapist. You were attending Columbia University. 

And of course, so was Bucky, studying English Literature. Rebecca was studying at FIT, her main interest being in fashion design. All three of you couldn’t bear to leave New York City, so you all decided to stay nearby. 

Since all three of you were in the same area, more or less, you three remained close and tight-knit. Since you were still a freshman, you decided to dorm on campus, while Rebecca and Bucky did the same. Bucky was in a fraternity, so he had a place in the house, and you often found yourself hanging out in his room, having been introduced to most of his brothers.

Like today, it was Thursday night, and your classes were cancelled for tomorrow. You were in no rush to get back to your room, and your roommate was also out at her boyfriend’s. Rebecca thought you were finishing up an essay, though. 

“Y/N, you’re crashing here tonight?” Bucky’s voice caused his chest to rumble under your place on it. 

“Yeah, is that alright?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Of course, Y/N/N.” He smiled back down at you, trying to ignore the fluttering in his chest at your doe eyes. 

She’s your sister’s best friend. Becca would hate you.

“I’m gonna wash up before I fall asleep, Buck.” You said with a yawn, lifting yourself off of Bucky’s warm, comfortable bed. 

Bucky watched your form disappear out of his room to the bathroom next door, his chest deflating with a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. 

I’m so fucked.

-

Making your short walk to the bathroom, your mind was filled with thoughts, and you really didn’t know what to do in this current situation. 

You and Becca had been best friends since you were both in preschool.

And now you were pretty certain that you had the biggest crush known to humankind on her older brother. 

Staring at your reflection in the mirror as you pat your face dry, you wondered what would happen if this went further. 

What would happen if you told Bucky that you liked him?

What would Becca do if she knew you liked her brother?

Shaking your head at yourself, you knew you couldn’t do that to Becca. She’s been there for you through everything that’s happened to you. To just turn around and tell her that you’ve fallen for her brother- you don’t know if that would be the right thing to do.

But how could you just outwardly deny your feelings for Bucky?

A knock on the bathroom door drew you out of your thoughts, letting whoever was knocking know that they could come in. 

“Hey, Y/N, how ya been?” It was one of Bucky’s closest friends whom you also knew growing up, Steve Rogers. 

“Hey Steve, I’m good. How ‘bout you?” You asked, getting ready to head back to Bucky’s room. 

“Good, good, y’know, Peg’s keepin’ me on my toes.” He flashed you a smile, a blush creeping up on his face at the mention of his girlfriend. 

“Aw, Stevie’s in loooove,” You sing-songed, pinching his cheek.

“Well, I think I could say the same for you, Y/N/N.” Steve scoffed back in retort, but your breath hitched at the words.

“Shut up, Steve...” You mumbled, twiddling your fingers. 

“Y/N, I’m serious... You and Buck ‘ve been spending a lot of time together and I can tell. He’s my best friend, and I know when my best friend is taken for someone. Trust me, Y/N, your feelings aren’t one-sided.” And with that, he steps into the bathroom, leaving you reeling at his words.

Lost in your thought again, you walked back to Bucky’s room. You tucked yourself under his warm duvet, as you fell into a deep slumber with his arm wrapped around your waist, thinking about the weight of it around you as you fell asleep.

- 

The next morning was... quiet... to say the least. After your encounter with Steve in the bathroom, you really didn’t know how to feel about your feelings towards Bucky. He felt the tenseness that was rolling off of you in waves, making him wonder if he did something to make you upset. 

Bucky wondered if he was doing too much, wondering if he had caused you to be uncomfortable with him for some reason.

So naturally, he pulled back.

As the days went on and got colder, you found yourself spending more time in your dorm, or places that weren’t associated with Bucky in your mind. 

And it was safe to say the both of you were losing it.

Bucky was slowly losing his composure, where he would participate the most in his seminar classes, he was quiet and folded in on himself, losing his confidence. 

Where you were the most outspoken on certain topics in your classes, you became a bit of a hermit. 

And almost everyone noticed.

Most notably, Becca and Steve.

When you returned from class at the end of a long week without Bucky, you invited Becca over to have take out in your room.

“So, how’s your week been?” She asks, reaching into your takeout box and grabbing a piece of garlic honey chicken.

Rolling your eyes, you say “Fine, same old. You? How’d that design project go?” 

“It was awesome! My professor really loved my piece, she said it was one of the ‘most original takes’ on this project she’s seen!” Becca was ecstatic and you were so proud of her.

“That’s so awesome, Bec! One day you’re gonna have to make me something that I can wear, and when someone asks me where I got it, I’ll just say, ‘oh, sorry my best friend made it, you’ll have to wait ‘til it hits the runways to buy it.’” You laugh, pointing your chopsticks at her.

“Y/N, stop, you flatterer.” She smirked, looking back down at her food. “Hey, I’ve also been meaning to ask... have you noticed Bucky acting weird as of late, or anything? Is it just me or is he like... way more quiet than usual?” Becca asked inquisitively. 

“Oh- uh, I actually have no idea. I haven’t really seen him that much this week. Just around campus here and there.” You shrug your shoulders, the pit in your stomach nagging at you.

“Really? You guys usually hang out more often...” She responds, and your face burns in embarrassment. 

“Wh- How do you know how often your brother and I hang out?” Your voice didn’t even feel like your own as you spoke, quickly occupying it with food.

“Well, he does live with Steve... Apparently you’re around there pretty often.” Rebecca eyes you, seeing your body language and how uncomfortable you seem. “Y/N... If you like my brother, that’s okay. I think you guys would be cute together. And I can tell you like him, so don’t try to deny it.” Becca smiles, reaching to rest a hand on yours in comfort. 

“Wh- You don’t care?” You ask in confusion, expecting a bit of a more dramatic reaction. 

“Of course I care, I care about my two favorite people being happy. And if they’re happy together, then that’s even better!” She explains, and your head spins.

“I- I’m telling you this in confidence, Becca. You can’t tell anyone, not Steve, not Peggy, and absolutely not Bucky...” She nods, moving closer to you. “I...I do like Bucky. A lot. But I don’t think he likes me that way. I mean, just look at his exes. I’m not like Natasha, or those gorgeous girls. And what if he just sees me as his friend. Like a little sister?” You finish, your hands flailing around and out of breath. 

“Y/N... I know my brother, but I can’t read his mind. If I had to take a wild guess... I’d say he likes you too. Based on what Steve tells me, based on how Bucky acts when you come up in conversation... his eyes light up, dude. I think you need to talk to him, face to face.” Rebecca explains, giving her best advice. “You both deserve to be happy, and I think you could both give that to each other.” She softly smiles. 

“Thanks, Becca. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You laugh, pulling her into a tight hug. “I’ll talk to him.”

- 

In the frat house across the campus, Steve and Bucky were sitting in the living room amongst some of their other brothers. 

“Buck, what’s been up with you this week?” Tony, a senior and president of the frat asks from the kitchen.

“Hm?” Bucky looks up, confused at the question.

“You’ve been... off all week long.” Sam chimes in from next to him on the couch, eyes leaving the football match on the TV.

“I’m fine, why?” Bucky deflects, taking a sip of his drink in hand.

“Whatever you say, but I have a feeling this has to do with Y/N... haven’t seen her around here at all this week.” Tony points out, plopping down on a futon. 

Steve’s eyes widened, looking down at his phone that he’s been on all night.

Little did Bucky know, Rebecca was feeding him information about you to him directly, trying to make sense of his friend’s odd behavior this week.

His eyes shot to Bucky’s, trying to gauge his reaction to Tony’s mention of you.

“Yeah, she’s been.... busy, I guess. Haven’t really talked to her.” Bucky says nonchalantly. 

“Why not? You two are basically attached at the hip... like, Friday nights are usually your thing together. I thought you’d man up and ask her out already.” Sam’s response caused a stillness in the room, everyone looking at Bucky for his next move. 

But it was quiet. 

“She’s... she’s my sister’s best friend... I don’t think Becca would appreciate me taking her best friend out to dinner.” Bucky said in a low voice, clearing his throat. 

“Have you asked her how she feels about it?” Thor asks from his spot on the other couch. “Maybe she’s fine with it, she doesn’t seem to be too stuck up...” He suggests.

“My sister isn’t stuck up, man. Watch it.” He responds defensively. 

“I wasn’t saying that! But you should talk to her about it, that’s all I’m saying!” Thor fights back. 

“I just- I don’t know, last week when Y/N was here, she went to the bathroom to wash up at night, and when she came back she was acting totally different. She’s usually comfortable around me, but she was acting like... like she was uncomfortable around me. I thought I did something to make her feel that way, so I kinda backed off this week.” Bucky explains, trying to understand what went wrong.

“Well, did she say anything? Did she try to reach out this week?” Tony asks. 

“I mean, she texted me a few times, but it was casual conversation. I can’t tell how she’s feeling. I like her, but I don’t want to make things weird for her and Becca, or Becca and I.” 

And this is where Steve chimes in. 

“I mean, come on Buck, it’s obvious she likes you too. I think you need to talk to her, because Becca wants you two to be happy. I don’t think she’d care that much, y’know?”

“But what if I make things awkward? Like, what if I read the signals wrong this whole time, and she doesn’t even really like me?” Bucky was now going into a deep spiral, and Steve needed to pull him out, fast. 

“Buck, I don’t think so. You should talk to her, face to face.” Steve encouraged.

“You think so?” Bucky wasn’t so convinced.

“Yes!” A chorus of voices echoed in the house, causing Bucky to jump to his feet, ready to confront this head-on.

“Okay, yeah, yes, I’m gonna tell her how I feel. I got this, I’ll be fine-” But his pumping-up session was cut short from the doorbell ringing through the house.

Steve got up, “I got it.” He simply said, smirking mischievously as he turned to face the door and twisted the knob.

And of course, it was none other than you.

“Hey Buck? I think it’s for you!” Steve yells from the doorway, stepping out of the way and directing everyone in the living room to hide out of sight. Of course, they were all still eavesdropping and lurking about.

“Doll, what’re ya doin’ here?” Bucky was beyond confused, you timing was impeccable. 

“I-I have some things I wanna talk about. I just, I think we need to talk.” You say, looking up at him.

“Y-Yeah, come inside, it’s freezing out. What’s up, doll?” He asks, pulling you into the house and into the living room, sitting down next to you on a couch, making sure to face you. 

“Everything’s alright... but I need to get this off my chest before I go crazy-” You stop yourself from rambling further. “I was having dinner with Becca earlier, and we... talked... about some things. And apparently, someone was telling her about all the time we spend together.” Bucky was listening, but cursing Steve in his head, knowing he was behind it. 

“And I know last week I was acting weird, but I promise, it wasn’t because of something you did. Well, it kinda was, b-but not something bad, y’know?” You explain, trying to get Bucky to understand how you feel.

“Whaddaya mean, doll? If I did something, tell me, because I would never want to hurt you-” He started, trying to pinpoint his actions. 

“You made me like you! There, you happy?” You exclaim, hands covering your cherry red face. “I said it! I like you. And I totally understand if you don’t feel the same way, I’m just your little sister’s annoying friend, I get it-” 

But instead of the feeling of rejection, you were met with Bucky’s lips on yours, his hands cupping your cheeks.

Bucky was kissing you.

Bucky was kissing you!

Holy fuck!

What. The. Fuck. 

But before you could overthink anything, you heard loud whoops and cheers coming from all around you.

“What the hell? Steve?” You asked, looking around, trying to process the last minute.

“Finally! Took ya two idiots long enough! God, Becca and I didn’t know how much longer we’d have to be your freakin’ puppet masters.” He laughed from his spot in the kitchen. 

“Come on doll, let’s go upstairs to talk, where we could have some privacy...” Bucky said pointedly, looking at his brothers as they kept cheering as you two made your way up the stairs. 

- 

Once the door closed behind you two, you were quite literally speechless.

“You kissed me.” You pointed out the obvious, since your mind was still reeling.

“I did.” Bucky simply answers.

“...Why?” You ask, like an idiot. 

“Because, for the past three years I’ve had the biggest crush known to man on you... and I knew if I didn’t kiss you then, I never would. Kind of a life or death situation here, doll.” He jokes trying to gauge your mood.

“Bucky...” You sighed, walking closer to him, holding his face, “you can kiss me whenever you want.” And punctuated your sentence with a kiss. 

“Well... then... can I call you my girlfriend?” He asks, looking into your twinkling eyes. Bucky’s large hands cover your waist, pulling you closer against him.

“Yeah... I think you can.” You answer, the sparkle never leaving your eyes.

“Hmmm... finally.” Bucky hums, closing the gap between your lips over and over again. 

Your loud giggle fills the room as Bucky peppers kisses all over your face, trying to make up for lost time. 

“Hey, make sure to use protection, kids!” someone’s voice comes from down the hall from’s Bucky’s room.

“Shut up, Sam!” You both yell in unison, resuming your previous activities.

And in this moment, there’s nowhere else either of you would rather be. 

[malfoys-demigod]

Favorite City, Favorite Day

Elijah Mikaelson x Female!Reader

Prompts: “Since you’re visiting if I’m correct, why not let me show you around?”, “For the sake of curiosity, are you seeing anyone?”, and “You still have that gift from me? I figured you’d have thrown it away by now.” “No, I never would.”

Word Count: 1.5k 

Summary: After half a century, you return to New Orleans, to feel the nostalgia of your favorite city, celebrate your favorite day, and encounter your favorite person. 

A/N: My first TVD/TO fic is about Elijah! One of my favorite characters ever! I’ve been wanting to write during Spring break and here I am, publishing it on the first day after the break. Enjoy! 

New Orleans had not changed.

As you took your first step back in the famous French Quarter, you immediately felt the feeling of home overwhelm you with vast joy and nostalgia. From left to right, there were colorful lights and ecstatic people, making what New Orleans was famous for: the busy yet festiveness day and nightlife.

One thing you probably noticed is how much more people there were today than the last time you were here, which was ages ago.

Somehow, Marcel and Klaus, the co-kings of the city, had brought in more people to the city, boosting its attraction level, which made you wonder how they did it.

But despite having a more crowded place, you could still tell who were supernaturals and who weren’t around the areas. As you continued walking, you observed the body languages of the people around you, scanning to see the vampires walking around.

These were the men who were most loyal to the co-kings of New Orleans, taking precautions around the surroundings, making sure they were doing their jobs well by being the eyes of Marcel and Klaus when they were not around the busy nightlife.

Too concentrated in finding more supernaturals around you, you accidentally collided into someone in front of you, feeling the glass they were holding spill on them.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so-”, “I hope I didn’t create much damage on your Armani suit,” you rephrased cooly, changing your emotional reaction as you saw who you collided into.  

Elijah Mikaelson withdrew a handkerchief from his breast pocket, still not looking at you, dabbed his suit with the handkerchief, concentrating on the spill. “For having a good eye on my suit, think nothing of the spill, dear.”

Finally, he looked up, creating an astonished look on his eyes but a joyful smile on his face as he realized who he bumped into.

“I’d ask you to buy me a drink but this really isn’t my favorite part of the Quarter,” you smiled, trying to contain your happiness. But it was hard. “Oh, hello, old friend,” you laughed, finally wrapping your arms around Elijah, who hugged you back, chuckling along with you. “Y/N,” was all he said, but with pure delight in his voice, sounding like a person he hasn’t seen in almost a thousand years.

When you both pulled away, you looked at him from top to bottom, nodding in agreement with what you were thinking, “You, old friend, are looking ageless as ever,” you joked, earning a pleased smile from him.

“Likewise, darling,” he returned your compliment, “I take it that it’s been half a century already since you’ve last stepped foot into your favorite city?”

You nodded in agreement, “Yet nothing has barely changed here,” you noticed, looking around the street then back at him.

Elijah had a bright look on his face, hoping you were also talking about him, “Since you’re visiting if I’m correct, why not let me show you around?” he asked.

“Well if it isn’t a bother,” you cheekily smiled, “I’d love that,” you said, happily shrugging.

The noble Mikaelson beamed, gesturing for your hand which you gave said, “Wonderful.”

--

This evening couldn’t get any better.

There wasn’t a single specific destination yet that Elijah wanted to take you. At the moment, he was simply taking you for a stroll around the beautiful nightlife of New Orleans.

Ever since the moment he first asked if he could show you around, your hand and his have never parted, as they were holding each other tightly without notice from the two of you.

The two of you had forgotten how loud New Orleans could be at night considering the fact that the two of you were only considering each other’s presence, trying to contain the adoration and affections you two have secretly had for each other.

“So tell me, Y/N,” Elijah continued the easy conversation you two were having, “How has life outside New Orleans been responding to you?”

“You mean life without you?” you smoothly rephrased his question. He grinned, looking directly in front of the street you two were walking on, trying to hide his growing blush on his face. “I’m just kidding,” you reassured him, “It’s been quite adventurous, but of course you were missing all the fun I could have shared with you.”

Elijah nodded, furrowing his eyebrows as he imagined your life without him, “You may be true but there could have been a chance of me depriving you of your happiness considering I tend to presume a day would go terrible if I’m not with Niklaus.”

You shook your head, denying his statement, “Any day would be terrible with Klaus with or without you,” you joked, “But kudos to him and Marcel,” you said, “They’ve made New Orleans more notable than when I was last here.”

“You may want to know though that they terribly miss you. We all do. I do,” Elijah softly said.

“I feel the same way too, ‘Lijah,” you admitted, “Life was so much different without you. I’m really glad nothing’s happened to you much in a way where I don’t have to go into a state of distress with the drama that gets you involved!”

He chuckled to himself, approving your words whole-heartedly. Then suddenly, his face changed, he began looking at you with a serious note. He stopped his walking, which you quickly took in and did the same.

“Forgive me, Y/N,” he said sincerely, “For the sake of curiosity, are you seeing anyone?”

Your serious face that you have developed after seeing Elijah’s suddenly melted into a burst of laughter, causing him to tense down a bit with a smile too, “Seriously, Elijah?” you asked, still laughing. It was only a few seconds after when you eased down and took a halt at your laughing. “Sorry, but you got me so serious for such a lightweight question.”

You exhaled, “No, I’m not seeing anyone,” you admitted, seeing that from his body language that he had mellowed down, feeling relieved from the softness of his eyes. “I take it that you’re somehow satisfied with that answer,” you teased, nudging his shoulder, which low-key served as a way to withdraw the sudden feelings you were containing.

Elijah looked down smiling, retrieving something from the inner pocket of his suit and began saying, “You’re right, and I also wanted to give you something with good intentions in mind.”

He slowly extracted a wrapped gift, which had ribbons of your second favorite color, wrapped around gift wrappings of your first favorite color. “Do you remember what happened on this day half a century ago?”

You slowly nodded, still looking at the gift, “Yes, I gave you a map of the world, telling you which places in the world I wanted to see.”

“Correct, and inside this gift is the exact same thing, but with my wrappings now.”

Elijah handed the gift over to you, which you rapidly but satisfyingly unwrapped the wrappings from, seeing the map you had given him, still in the same quality from the last time you saw it. The memories that had happened that day overflooded your mind, getting you to recall yourself telling Elijah the sequence of places you were going to see. Oh, you were so excited to see the world.

“You still have this gift from me?” you said, looking up with a sweet and soft smile, “I figured you’d have thrown it away by now.”

Elijah strongly shook his head, “No, I never would,” he denied, “And now that you’re here, perhaps you could use it to tell me which places I could have seen with you.”

Before you could tell him how much you agree on his idea, he suddenly added, “Adding to that, perhaps you could see a significant change in me.”

“What would that be?” you curiously asked.

Elijah exhaled and said, “Considering that you’re not seeing anyone, would you give me the honor and finally request the pleasure of your company whenever you’re free for a delightful time with me?”

There were suddenly butterflies in your stomach as you heard the question you’ve been dying for Elijah to ask you your whole life. You could tell you were smiling like a child but nevertheless, you nodded with cheerfulness, “I couldn’t be more happy, Elijah.”

“Not to be too forward though,” you continued, “But I think now’s the perfect time. We’re surrounded by my favorite city’s nightlife and, I don’t know if you’ve forgotten but, today’s a special day for me.”

Elijah took a step closer to you and slowly kissed you on the forehead, hearing your heartbeat beat faster, which made him even smile more. When he pulled back from the soft and light kiss he placed, he looked you in the eyes and said, “I could never forget your special day,” which got you to grin, “Happy birthday, my darling.” he greeted.

“Thank you, ‘Lijah,” you thanked him.

“Shall we?” he asked, “I’d like to take you to your favorite part of the Quarter.”

“We shall,” you said, linking your hand with his as you began strolling the street again together, in your favorite place, during your favorite day.

[kuroopaisen]

heartworm. (akaashi keiji)

➵ you miss akaashi more than anything. so if bokuto’s birthday party gives you an opportunity to reconnect, you’ll take it. 

wc: 2.8k

warnings: swearing

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto’s resounding chant seemed to rumble through the entire apartment.

“Hey, Bokuto,” you smiled, tilting your head at him.

“It’s great to see you!” He was beaming at you as he pulled you in for a hug, face flushed and hair all ruffled. You weren’t sure how many drinks he’d had, but you could tell by the colour of his cheeks that he wasn’t going to be standing upright for much longer.

You grinned up at him. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

“Thank you!” His voice boomed out of his chest – far too loud, considering the circumstances. But, you smiled nonetheless. That was Bokuto for you.

He ushered you inside before you had time to think, patting your shoulders as you stumbled through his landing room. His apartment wasn’t large by any means, but he sure had tried to stuff a lot of people in it.

There were some faces you recognized – old team members from Fukurodani, Yukie, Kaori… and it was easy enough to fall into the groove of conversation with them. Well, as best you could, given the noise.

True to form, Bokuto’s party was little more than pure chaos. Mostly led by Bokuto himself, in cahoots with some guy who looked a little like a rooster. And of course, it was fun to watch. But something about the cacophony and the crowd was making your heart beat a little faster. You weren’t feeling claustrophobic, per say, but you needed some fresh air.

You almost laughed at yourself for that. You’d been at this party, what? Twenty minutes? And you already needed a time out? But, you supposed that’s what tended to happen once you got to your second year of university. You felt more and more like an old crone each day.

That, and there was a notable absence from the revelry. You didn’t want to think about him – no, you wouldn’t think about him. But that didn’t shift the weight in your stomach.

Thank God Bokuto had a balcony. It was rather quaint and small, but it would do. Just a few minutes in the cold and the dark, and you’d be ready to socialise again.

You sighed, turning to step into the shadows next to the door.

“Keiji!” The name slipped out of you before you could contain yourself.

He looked up at you, cross-legged at the end of the balcony. An outsider might’ve mistaken his expression for apathy. But you could tell, from the slight raise of his eyebrow and the touch of softness to his eyes, that he was surprised. Whether your presence was a good or bad surprise was yet to be seen.

“Hey.”

You wanted to throw your arms around him. You wanted to bury your face in his chest. You wanted to tell him how much you’d missed him.

You did none of that.

“Long time no see,” you smiled, cursing yourself for the cliché.

“Yeah,” he chuckled.

God, he looked good. You’d forgotten just how good-looking he was – how had you forgotten? He made jeans and a plain shirt look stylish.

A quiet memory of you and Bokuto insisting he get into modelling came back to you. You’d been teasing him, of course, but there had been truth to it. Hell, you knew you’d buy something if Akaashi was the one selling it to you.

You swallowed, trying to focus on the situation at hand.

“Are you alright?” His voice was as soft as you remembered.

“Yeah,” you nodded,

“You sure about that?” one of his brows was raised ever so slightly. He could still see through you, huh?

“Honestly, I’m a little intimidated,” you chuckled softly, sitting yourself on the ground next to him. It was strange just how much that made you feel better – to be on the same level as him. “I don’t really know anyone here.”

“Me neither,” he tilted his head to the side, turning his gaze away from you and onto the night sky.

“So, uh…” You wanted to talk to him. You wanted to keep this – awkward as it was – going. “How’ve things been?”

He shrugged. “Alright.” He paused. “I got an internship at a publishing agency.”

A bright smile overtook your face as you sat up a little straighter. “Keiji, that’s wonderful news.”

You’d rarely spoke of your plans for the future in your third year, but you knew well enough that Keiji had his hopes vested in writing. You hadn’t spoken about it at length – those sorts of conversations did little more than root anxiety, after all – but at graduation he’d left you with a little blurb.

“It’s only an editing position,” he bit the inside of his cheek, his brow furrowed ever so slightly. “But it’s an in.”

“They’ll be begging you to write for them in no time,” you nodded, smiling at him. “You’re only in your second year of uni! That’s a pretty big deal, you know.”

The whisper of a smile pulled at his lips. Your heart stirred; the very same way it had three years ago.

Fuck. Really?

“How about you?” He asked, voice aggravatingly melodic.

How were you?

Admittedly, not great. University had been… not what you’d expected.

Your first year had knocked you off your feet, and it had been quite the battle to get yourself upright again. That was on-top of everything going on in your personal life; moving out, adjusting to a whole new way of life, having to accept the changes that graduation brought… It’d been more of a feat than you’d expected it to be.

You’d tried to make friends, but it was harder in this new, unstructured environment. Making friends meant joining clubs, or striking lucky with where you chose to sit in that crucial first lecture. You’d made a handful of good friends, but you didn’t feel close to anyone yet. Not in the way you’d been close to the man sitting next to you.

But he’d drifted from you.

You remembered graduation with startling clarity; how he’d gripped your hand after the ceremony, making his way through the crowd to find Bokuto, who’d been proud to the point of tears. You remembered how afterwards, still hand in hand, you’d made your way to the local park; that little haven where you’d spent many evenings just talking.

It was there that he’d given you that little piece of prose. At the time, you felt like you barely understood it; like you’d only caught a whisper of what it really meant.

But you’d wondered, then, if you should kiss him.

You didn’t.

You weren’t going to risk your friendship with him based on some silly misunderstanding.

And maybe you could’ve shaken it off, if that’s all it was. But it wouldn’t have been some simple misunderstanding. It would’ve been all your hopes vested in a single gesture.

Things had crumbled after that.

You didn’t really see each other in person, once school had finished; he’d left to scout out apartments earlier than you, and he’d settled himself down in Tokyo before you’d had a chance to speak to him. You managed to catch him on the day he left, just long enough to give him a farewell hug.

But even that had felt off.

And then, you were texting less. And less. And less.

Next thing you know, you only spoke to him in the little group chat between you, him and Bokuto.

You hadn’t known what to do.

The two of you had been so close after meeting in first year. You’d seen the highs and lows of his volleyball career, you’d been granted a peek at his personal journey towards becoming a writer, seen him overcome obstacle after obstacle with such grace…

And he’d been there for you through every trial of your own. When it all felt like it was too much, Keiji was there to talk you down, to make you feel like everything would end up okay. There was nothing he couldn’t logic his way through.

Really, there was no way you weren’t going to develop feelings for him. He’d grounded you, supported you, cared for you. He’d become so overwhelmingly important to you, and yet here you were, at a loss of what to say to him.

How are you? He’d asked.

Fuck it, you thought.

You tell him everything. Everything that had meant something to you. Everything that had shaped you as a person this last year and a half. Everything you’d been storing in your heart, hoping to spill to him.

You don’t know how long you’ve spoken for, but you didn’t stop. For a moment, it’s almost like it was in high school; you, rambling on about whatever had caught your interest, and Keiji, the perfect listener.

But, as the minutes pass, you realise this is just like high school.

He’s smiling at you.

It’s soft, barely there. But it’s familiar. It’s the face of the Keiji you cherished so deeply, even if he looked a little older.

You paused, taking a deep breath.

He’s still looking at you. He’s there. In reach.

So you say it.

“I’ve missed you.”

His eyes widen, just a little, and for just a second. But his cheeks are dusted with pink, and the corners of his mouth were turning upwards. “I’ve missed you, too.”

Oh no. Those words were enough to make you brave. Much too brave.”

“Hey, Keiji?”

God, why did his eyes have to be so piercing?

“Why did we drift apart?”

There’s no hiding his shock now. It’s fair – you hadn’t expected that question to crop up either.

But it’s out there, now, and you’ve got nothing to lose.

His chest rose as he took a deep breath, and--

“Akaashi!”

You both knew who that voice belonged to. And sure enough, he came thundering out the balcony door, duo-toned hair a mess and golden eyes shaped into an uncharacteristic glare.

Akaashi flinched, drawing back into the shadows as if on instinct. It wasn’t enough.

Bokuto’s face was still red, but now he looked determined. He jerked a finger on Akaashi’s direction, a pout crafted onto his face.

“Have you two hooked up yet?”

You blinked. What did he just say? Your gaze flicked over to Akaashi without even thinking about it. He looked mortified: eyes wide, mouth formed in a little ‘o’, cheeks utterly devoid of colour.

He looked exactly how you felt. Sure, Akaashi was cute – although, that was an understatement – and he’s always been a wonderful person. And sure, his distancing act hurt twice as much because maybe, just maybe you’d always had a little crush on him. And maybe you’d been wondering if he was putting that distance between the two of you because he knew about it and –

“Shut up, Bokuto—”

“It is not cool to ignore someone just because you’ve got the hots for them, man!”

Two questions crossed your mind in that moment. One – who even uses that phrase anymore? Two – what the fuck?

Your head whipped around to look at Akaashi face-on, hoping, praying that’d give you some kind of answer.

He looked like he was about to explode. That stark white pallor had been replaced by blinding red, and it looked like he was puffing his cheeks out.

Bokuto was about to die. That’s all you were sure of.

“Tell ‘em how you feel, man!” Bokuto still hadn’t stopped, hands gesticulating just as freely as his voice was.

Neither you or Akaashi had anything to say. All you could do was stare, absolutely flummoxed, at the man in front of you.

You’d mentioned the whole drifting thing to Bokuto, but you hadn’t expected him to actually say anything. Not after begging him not to. How many drinks deep was he?

But Bokuto was already gone, thundering through the door and shouting for a ‘Kuroo.’

Leaving you to deal with the aftermath.

“I’m…” Akaashi cleared his throat, his gaze a thousand miles away. “I’m so sorry about that.”

“It’s…” You bit the inside of your cheek. How were you supposed to comprehend what just happened? “It’s fine. I’m… used to it.”

“So,” he sighed, running a hand down his face. “I guess I should explain myself.”

Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

“Remember that thing I wrote you?” He asked, his tone reticent.

You nodded. “For graduation?”

“Yeah,” he swallowed, his eyes cast downward. “I was… I was trying to confess.”

Wait. What?

Everything raced through your mind. How he’d held your hand. How his gaze had lingered on your face. How he couldn’t quite walk away after he’d walked you home. The look of disappointment in his eyes as you said goodbye.

Oh. Oh God. You were an idiot.

“You… were?” You hadn’t felt your heart hammering like this since high school.

“Yeah,” he chuckled softly, playing with his fingers. “I thought it was pretty obvious.”

Maybe it had been. Maybe it hadn’t. “Oh.”

“So, I just… assumed you’d rejected me,” he murmured. “Since you said nothing about it.”

Could you punch your former self in the face? Because you really, really wanted to do that right now.

“And I… I didn’t know what to do after that,” he swallowed, managing to meet your gaze. It was only then that you realised you’d been staring at him like a creep for the past few minutes. “Everything started changing, and I…” He sighed. “I got scared. So, I stopped reaching out.” He bit his lip, looking down again. “I’m sorry. That was childish of me.”

“No!” You spoke before you’d thought about it. “No, I… I’m sorry.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I…” You took a deep breath, propping yourself up on your knees and facing him directly. “I should’ve said something.”

Akaashi frowned, tilting his head at you.

“You know I had the biggest crush on you, right?” You blurted it out, so slurred it’s almost one word.

His eyes widened at that. More than usual.

“God, I was pathetic,” you smiled. “Embarrassing, actually. Remember how many times I tripped in front of you? I was like a goddamn shoujo protagonist.”

“I never noticed,” he murmured. You smiled, about to respond – “I thought you were cute.”

Huh?

“Thanks?” You had no idea how to respond to that. But you were sure the frown on your face wasn’t a good look.

Akaashi chuckled, looking up at you again. “That hasn’t changed, you know.”

Oh God, oh God, oh God—

“I still have your letter,” you said. Why? You weren’t sure.

This conversation was already totally out of your control. You’d gotten closure for something you’d accepted as forever unknowable. The boy you were damn near in love with was confessing to you in the retrospective. You’d come to this party to make an appearance and then leave after the first hour – this wasn’t how you thought your night was going to go.

“You do?” His voice was unbearably soft.

You nodded. “I… I really missed you. I… wanted to keep the last part of you I had.”

There was no word in your vocabulary to describe the look on Akaashi’s face. It was something like relief, something like regret.

“I’m glad.”

Those weren’t the words you were expecting to hear back. But what had you expected? Especially in light of this new revelation. In light of the fact that he’d felt the same way you had. And for someone so clever, so analytical… he hadn’t picked up on how you felt.

But, knowing him… that was just a testament to how much he must’ve liked you. Enough to confuse himself. Enough to doubt himself.

And sitting there, across from him, you knew that your feelings had barely changed.

“Hey, Keiji?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not… dating anyone, are you?”

“I’m not.”

Deep breath. This was very, very stupid. But you leant forward and pressed a kiss just at the corner of his mouth, a breath away from his lips.

“Did you aim that?” Akaashi smirked. But his cheeks were red, and his eyes were fond.

“I didn’t—I don’t—I—” What you wanted to say was that you didn’t want to assume anything. That you didn’t know what you were doing. That you were trying to make up for the one vital mistake—

“Here,” he smiled. He took your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. That was enough to make your mind go frantic, a muddle of shame and excitement and the will to give in.

He brought your clasped fingers up to his lips and lay a gentle kiss on him.

God, that’s so embarrassing. That’s enough to make you burn up?

“Let’s take this slow, okay?” He’s smiling at you. A full, proper smile. “We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

[hyrule-kingdom-updates]

ALL of the emojis for Siv :D

What is the kindest thing your OC has ever done for someone? What is the kindest thing someone has ever done for them? On the flip side, what is the worst thing your OC has done to another person?

I don’t think I can point out a *single* ultimate kind act, but Siv raising and caring for his brother throughout their whole childhood is definitely one of the kindest periods of his life. Spoilers, but: Siv didn’t actually believe himself to be capable of being a knight, in fact Ligero was specifically trying to keep him out of Larc’s life, letting them grow to be more independent, giving Siv every reason to be jealous and spiteful. But Siv trained to be a knight anyways because he didn’t want his brother to be alone through it all. He would never admit it, but Siv is a really kind and soft person. He cared for everyone of LinkLink’s scars and scabs when they went shield surfing, he took Zavis to a surprise party when his mother didn’t bother to throw anything that special. He wrote Revali letters, he sewed little rat plushies for Aryll to add to her collection—and I think it all stems from his childhood, where the only thing that he was certain of, the only choice that he could without a doubt claim was a good and kind thing that he didn’t mess up on, was caring and loving for someone that he by all other means didn’t have to.

As for the kindest thing someone has done for him, well honestly I think Siv would consider anyone giving him a basic amount of respect and appreciation as the “kindest” thing. Although once, Zavis allowed himself to team up with Link to plan a perfect party for Siv, which is to say, a very notable feat.

As for the worst thing Siv has done to someone: that’s probably spoilers. :3

What does your OC do when they see others upset or in pain? An upset friend? A stranger?

If a stranger was upset, Siv would probably just think, “Sucks to suck!” and move on. Unless they were like, REALLY sobbing, to the point where it would be impossible to ignore. Then he might stop walking, chat them up and buy them a drink, maybe hear their woes, but that’s probably it.

If it was a friend, he’d be immediately on their case, but would still try to play it off as him being an apathetic, disgruntled guy. But you know, Siv didn’t become an official royal Branch Buddy for nothing.

What is something true about your OC that they refuse to admit about themselves? Is there any reason to this besides embarrassment?

Under absolutely no circumstances will Siv admit that he is shorter than anyone. He finds it completely unfair that BOTH of his brothers are taller than him. He would hate it if you told him so, but Siv without a doubt has inherited a bit of his father’s ego, so calling him short, or even complimenting his hot royal guard brother when Siv is right there would ruffle his feathers to say the least

Describe a regular day for your OC. What is their schedule (if they have one).

Pre-Orator days, Siv basically wakes up whenever he wants (usually past noon), feeds the pet rats in the alleyways, then heads to the underground. Everyday is scraping enough rupees for a hot meal and a drink by selling illegal tickets to the underground monster fights, maybe organize a rigged gambling ring or two, and obviously scam any ten year olds that were looking to enter the world of pocket monster fighting themselves. Then when the “work” day is done, he’ll pop by an adequate tavern (the only one that would tolerate letting someone like him around) and eat and drink, and...that’s pretty much it.

As the Royal Orator, Siv wakes up and immediately heads to the dining hall, then hauls all the food and drink over to his office by 10am, cause that’s when his official work hours kick in. He then has to just sit there, listen to people’s grievances and input that will promptly be ignored (by either his hand, or most certainly by his superiors) while also posting out the important announcements and rat doodles with the Quill of Roost(both pre and post consumption). He might grab lunch in between and do fuck all, but by 9pm he’s gone out and about, doing whatever it takes to get as little sleep as possible because he doesn’t really like the sort of dreams he’s been having.

Current Siv doesn’t have a schedule, but he does have an agenda.

How does your OC think they will die? Does death scare them? Is there any reason for this?

Siv isn’t thinking about death. In truth, he thought he would have died much, MUCH earlier. Maybe get stabbed or executed? Maybe have a poor run in with an ex or particularly angry victim of his scams? But hey, now that’s he’s living the high life with all this power, he doesn’t care about death! For all he knows, he could live forever as long as he sticks with Ganon! All he has to do is follow what he says, and he’ll be happy forever and never have to fear anything ever again.

What is your OC’s most traumatic experience? (If they don’t have just one traumatic experience either pick one or describe them all!)

The Asunder Incident.

Siv constantly questions himself after that, “Why would I do that? Was I really capable of killing someone? Surely not, I’m not...I’m not that bad...” but the facts obviously stated otherwise. This was basically the incident that cemented himself as the person he is at the start of hku, apathetic and broken. He wouldn’t admit it then, but this singular event basically solidified everyone’s prejudice and perception of him, and rightfully proved them correct. It was his own actions that left him hated, abandoned, and alone, so yeah, he can’t complain now, it’s all his fault.

How would your OC react to the death of a friend/family member/loved one? Is there anyone they can confide in?

If Ligero died he would throw a fucking party for the ages.

Other than that, yeah, if someone he knew and cared about died he would be very heart broken about it. I think the only person he would really confide in about it would be Larc, but if it WAS Larc that died...I can only assume he would at the very least be severely depressed. He’s his favourite, cherished, little brat brother, after all.

What would your OC be like if they were evil. Or if they’re already evil what would they be like as the good guy?

This is an interesting question given that...I’ve already shown both sides to this, haven’t I? Maybe I’ll just let the story speak for itself...

How would your OC react to somebody telling them that they love them? (+ bonus give another characters/OC name!)

Siv would first play it off as a joke because defense mechanism! “Haha, yeah, and you know what I love? The bathroom!” and he would be off escape the situation. But if they were persistent, he would be very flustered and very...vulnerable, and scarily sentimental in his opinion. It would take some time, but I believe eventually he would really, truly accept it, in the end. Although patience is certainly a virtue, it took an entire childhood for him to use the L word for his brother.

What does your OC hate about themself? What lies about themself do they believe? On the flip side, What does your OC love about themself?

He hates being a bad person. He does not believe himself to be good or worthy of anything, thus he internalizes it wholeheartedly in order to gain that sense of control. So now that Siv’s accepted he will never be truly happy, he’s like, “Great! I can just not care about anyone else now.”

Thankfully, that’s changed recently, and he now believes, “You know what? I’m NOT a bad person! It’s everyone else that’s been wronging me! The problem with me is that I’ve been way to much of a coward to take what I deserve, so now I’m gonna do it, no matter what! I deserve to not be hurt anymore, and if I can’t do whatever it takes to achieve that, then how can I say I deserve to be happy in the first place?” Be sure to thank Calamity Ganon for that pep talk.

Right now Siv loves his power. He’s had the most control and power in this one relationship with Ganon than he’s ever had with anyone else in his entire life. He’s finally on top! Number one! He has something to really be proud of about himself! The old Siv hated themselves, but now that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Does your OC have any scars? How and when did they get them?

He doesn’t have any notable scars, especially given that he’s got the power o’ malice, baby! Malice is a representation of many things, one of them being time and memory, so it’s pretty easy for it to heal and return skin, flesh, and bone to a prior state. Perfect for healing and repairing people and objects, alike! Of course, malice is more famous for doing the opposite, sucking your soul out from you prematurely, feeling yourself die rapidly, your last breath being snatched and forced out of your lungs, a thousand breaths meant for a lifetime suddenly sapped out in a few minutes. But I don’t know why I’m talking about that, that’s not relevant haha

What is something your OC blames themself for and is it really their fault? Does it keep them up at night and is there any lingering trauma?

The Asunder Incident, he blames his actions for leading him to basically abandon his brother for like fifteen years. But that’s all I’m gonna say as I have plans to talk about his feelings on it further in the actual story.

In what situation would your OC be pushed to commit an act of violence? Would they go as far to kill someone if they had to? How would this affect them and their relationships with others?

Why, I can’t answer this in detail! That’d be giving away the story :3

Ok, maybe I’ll say this: Siv tells himself that he would do anything to get what he wants, of course he would do anything, because if he can’t, well then that just means he’s a pathetic coward who doesn’t deserve happiness anyways. So of course he claims that he will do anything, even killing someone.

What would your OC do if they were given god-like powers or the ability to change anything about the world for a whole day?

Siv would eliminate all shitty parents, maybe also give revive some dead people, and also permanently have a giant neon green tattoo of a dick be on Ligero’s forehead. Assivus would do the first thing, but he might also make everyone who has ever wronged him suffer for a very long time on top of that.

Describe one of your OC’s worst nightmares.

- Oh no, made a ficlet.

The first night he was in the castle, he had a dream.

There was a man, sitting across from him, dressed in glittering gold, with a green sash wrapped across his chest and waist. He was tapping his long nails against a desk, HIS desk, the white and purple quill still in the cup of ink, and blank parchment in front of him.

The man looked very out of place, and that was ignoring the fact that he was a withering corpse.

You’re dashing, aren’t you? The man said, still tapping his fingers. That’s when Siv realized that he was just sitting opposite to him, in the seat where guests were supposed to be. He tried to speak, but couldn’t. He tried to move, but couldn’t. He tried to blink, but didn’t.

He sat there and listened to the man, attentively.

Do you know what you’re doing here, Asunder? the man asked. Asivus didn’t. Do you know why I’ve allowed you here? What you are?

Siv didn’t know, but he couldn’t exactly express as such.

That’s because you don’t need to know. At least for now. The man leaned forward like mist, disappearing as Siv felt something pass through him, he couldn’t turn to look behind him as a delicate hand was on his shoulder. You’ll know things when I want you to know. You’ll say things when I want them to be said. And you will do things when I want them to be done. Because I own you. Err...

The man suddenly stopped to think, leaning on the right arm of Siv’s chair, tapping his bony chin, as if he had made a casual slip of the tongue. Because...you owe me. Yes, that’s the word. I’ve helped you so much Assivus Asunder. Or “will?” “Have?” “Am currently?” Futures and times are a funny thing. I apologize, I’ll have my words sorted out into something more professional and proper in our future.

The man spun around, and suddenly, he was no longer a corpse, but a dashing Gerudo man, dressed brilliantly and handsomely. His eyes were no longer a hollow gold, but green, somehow familiar.

The room was no longer some dinky orator office, but the sanctum of the castle, the apex of the kingdom. The man snapped his head towards him.

Let me ask you something, Assivus Asunder: Would you rather be here?

He gestured to the grand view of the sanctum, the sunset casting striking shades of red, black, and gold across the towering walls.

Or here?

The world spun once again, and they were suddenly on a dark street. The houses of Rauru diced the stone brick pavement. Siv glanced around and saw himself, sitting on the ground. There were two knights, one of them cursing loudly, and the other laying down beside him. There was so much blood and he could feel himself floating closer and—

No. NO. Wait. STOP. PLEASE! He tried to speak, scream, anything. No sound came. He saw a sword, a dark and rich puddle that seemed to even reflect his own face and—

They were suddenly back in the office.

Which is better? What do you prefer, of the two? I’m assuming the former? The man looked at him. I will allow you to nod yes or no to the former.

Siv immediately nodded a yes.

Trick question!The man boomed. Both are fantastic places, environments that you should love and cherish. There is so much good hiding in the places you would least expect, Assivus. I’ll help you remember that.

The world was suddenly nothing. Nothing but black. Just him, in a chair, staring at this smiling, pleasant, scary, red haired man. 

Don’t you want help, Assivus? I think there’s something you want, that you need help attaining? Isn’t there something? There’s no shame in admitting.

Siv thought for a moment, then slowly nodded a yes.

Do you want MY help?

Uhh...Siv wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Perhaps you can do a favor for me?

Fuck no! was Siv’s immediate thought. Who the fuck—First off, I don’t think I really like you, actually, so— 

Oh that’s alright! The man was suddenly very close to his face. Oh shit, could he hear my thoughts? Assivus, you can do whatever you want to do to be happy. I don’t want to force anything from you. He patted his cheek with a very cold hand.

In fact, I’ve now decided you don’t have to do anything for me. I am going to help you, and you don’t need to do anything in return. The man stood back, clasping his hands together. How does that sound?

I... He tried to speak, but remembered he couldn’t even move his lips.

I’m sorry again, Asunder. Here, I’ll allow you to speak now. The man didn’t even wave a hand, but Siv could suddenly feel how hoarse and dry his throat was.

So how about it, Assivus Asunder? I want you to be in charge of your destiny, I want you to be in total control. I would never force anything from you, I will simply be here, by your side, helping here and there, as you...figure it all out. How is that? Does that sound alright?

Siv opened his mouth, but couldn’t decide the words. If I say yes can I go back to sleep? Hella tired...

The man didn’t move, but Siv someone sensed a whisper beckoning somewhere with a “Yes. We’re all tired of many things, aren’t we?”

“O-Ok...” Siv finally said. “Alright, sure. I don’t see why n—”

Before the words were fully out of his mouth, the world suddenly stopped dead, as quick as a snap. He awoke from his bed with a jolt, his heart racing like he had just run a marathon, even though he didn’t find those last moments to be that thrilling or terrifying.

Siv sat for a moment longer, trying to contemplate the dream. But as most dreams are, the memory of it fell out of his grasp like loose sand between his fingers, and soon enough, it was already gone.

He flopped back into bed with a sigh.

Whatever it was, it was probably nothing.

What advice would your OC give to their younger self? What advice does your OC need now?

Already answered in a previous ask c:

[collecting-stories]

Mai Tai - ep. 02 - Rafe Cameron

Summary: Some heavy flirting and a day out with Wheezie.

A/N: The rewrite for chapter two.

Holiday in the Sun Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

The Nassau house was arguably bigger than Tanney Hill. Enough bedrooms that you got your own and so did Sarah and Wheezie. Rafe and Topper were stuck in a room together though you saw Sarah’s boyfriend put his suitcase in her room as you dragged your suitcase into yours. It was at the end of the hall, a sliding door that you couldn’t quite figure out how to lock, and enough white that you weren’t sure if Rose thought she was in an institution or a vacation home. It was nice either way and the bed was definitely comfortable as you dropped your things and flopped back on it, legs hanging over the side as you stared up at the ceiling.

“Kinda miss that tomboy look you used to rock.”  

You sat up in bed, Rafe leaning against the open door frame, grinning at you. “Sorry to disappoint,” you replied, “it was more a cover-up than a style and I finally grew into myself in case you didn’t notice.”

“I noticed.” He said, “Oh, and Rose said dinner’s ready.”

Dinner was awkward and quiet, the leftover tension from the plane ride unresolved as you all sat around the table. Rose and your mother spent the entire meal plotting out the week, what they would do, where they would go. It was all arbitrary stuff that you didn’t care about. None of the Cameron kids seemed to care either as they stayed relatively quiet throughout the meal. Sarah would whisper back and forth with Topper but Rafe and Wheezie kept quiet, the latter texting in her lap. Ward spent the meal talking business with your stepdad and you pushed your food around your plate, counting the minutes until dinner was over and you were allowed to go into your room.

Your friends had already texted you about their own first night in Ptown and you’d promised to facetime them after dinner, something you were itching to do. Though, Rafe was making dinner slightly more bearable. Rose had said something particularly annoying and Rafe had rolled his eyes, only to realize that you were looking at him. After that it felt like every time you looked up he was staring at you, the attention making you slightly flushed.  

-

“Hey,” you greeted, leaning forward so you could see passed the refrigerator as Rafe came into the kitchen. You were sitting up on the counter, the large sliding window open behind you as you ate straight out of a pint of ice cream. “Can’t sleep?”

He nodded, running a hand through his hair, messy from sleep and notably a little long. “You?” He asked, opening the refrigerator and obscuring you from view for a moment.  

“Something like that.” You replied, stretching your legs out casually though you were actually double-checking that you didn’t have any forgotten hairs or unsightly nicks. You knew it was stupid but you couldn’t help yourself, four years had only made him more gorgeous than he’d been at 15 and you were enjoying the attention he’d already given you. At least the sleep shorts and sports bra could work in your favor. “You want some?” You offered the pint of ice cream, your spoon stuck in the middle.  

“What kind?” He asked as he took the spoon and dug in.

“Coffee.” You replied, “I snuck it in.”

“You snuck it in?” He took a bite and you watched the spoon slip back out between his lips as he swallowed the ice cream.  

“My mom’s got me on a diet, I’m only allowed like four hours of eating a day and definitely not ice cream.” You admitted, “gotta get rid of the baby fat.” As you said it you pinched the inside of your thigh to prove your point and he laughed. You looked cute enough for midnight but you weren’t above self-deprecating jokes.  

“Well your secret is safe with me.” He replied, grabbing the beer he had taken from the refrigerator, “As long as you don’t tell anyone I was drinking.”

“Where are you on your 12 steps?” You teased, waving your hand for him to pass you the beer.  

“Step 1,” Rafe replied, “fuck my life.”

You laughed, nearly spitting the beer that you’d just sipped. As you went to reply you both heard footsteps coming toward the kitchen. You slipped off the counter, almost bumping into him because he was so close. You grabbed his hand as the hall light flipped on, abandoning your ice cream to the counter as you dragged Rafe out onto the porch with you. “Sorry, I’ll be done for if my mom finds me.” You admitted, pressing your back against the wall just passed the door, out of sight.  

“Trust me, I’m in the same boat.” Rafe answered, standing close to you, watching the door. You were trapped between him and the wall and you were convinced that you would be tripping over your words if the light was actually hitting him and he wasn’t completely shadowed.  

“It’s Rose.” He finally said, able to see enough into the kitchen that he recognized his stepmom’s blonde hair.

“What’s she doing?”

“You’re gonna have to buy new ice cream.” He whispered, looking down at you and grinning.  

“No,” you whined, leaning your head back against the wall. “Damn.”

“Here, eases the pain,” he teased, passing his beer to you.

Rose left the kitchen with your ice cream and Rafe backed away from you, giving the all-clear as headed back inside. You followed after him, topping off the rest of his beer and dropping it in the bin beneath the sink.  

“You want your own this time?” He asked, pulling out two more.  

“Yes please, if I can’t eat all my calories, I’ll drink them.” You joked, watching as he popped the lid off with the edge of the counter. “That’s a neat party trick.”

“Glad your impressed.”  

“Was that the goal?” You asked, taking your beer from him.

He only smiled, trying to look as innocent as possible as he shrugged his shoulders at you. “Come on-”

“Where are we going?” You asked, cutting him off. He walked out of the kitchen and you followed after him, down the hall in the dark.

“You don’t want anyone to catch you right?” He asked, stopping at a door near the end of the hall. The entire house was on one level, windows everywhere in the main rooms to make it feel like it was outside and inside at the same time.  

“Right,” you replied skeptically. Your room was up ahead but he stopped before that.

He pushed the door open and you realized it was his bedroom, the same one you’d seen Topper moving his suitcase out of earlier in the day. “Hotel Cameron,” he joked as you walked in passed him.

“I thought the whole house was hotel Cameron.”  

“You’re mistaken.” Rafe replied.

“Well, what does Hotel Cameron have to offer then?” You asked, walking further into the room and taking a seat on the end of the chaise near the window, “besides beer?”

“A great view.”  

“Kinda dark out.” You said, glancing over your shoulder, out the window.

“Wrong view.”

You laughed even though anyone else saying it would’ve instantly made you cringe and Rafe smiled at his joke, this insanely dorky grin on his face as if he wasn’t nearly as confident as he acted. He shut the door and came further into the room having waited until he was sure that you were comfortable.

“Okay, so view, beer...anything else?” You asked.

“Great company...and possibly breakfast in bed.” He offered.  

“Are you cooking the breakfast?”  

“Definitely not.” He laughed, taking a seat on his bed, stretching out on top of the comforter.

“I was just checking, I wasn’t sure how many compliments you were gonna pay yourself before we got through this.” You teased.  

“Only a few more.”  

“Well I’m already here so I might as well stay.” You replied, you moved further up to sit with your back to the window, relaxed against the armrest as you watched Rafe lounging in bed.  

“So, your boyfriend bummed you skipped out on vacation?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend...” you said, trying to decide what he was getting at, “were you listening to my facetime earlier?”

“I may’ve overheard.”

“Overheard?” You laughed, “can’t believe you were creeping on me.”  

“I wasn’t ‘creeping’ on you.”  

You hummed, biting back a smile, “well I’m single so-” you shrugged.

“Good to know.”

-

Even though he’d offered breakfast in bed, and you could imagine how incredible that whole situation would be, you snuck out before the sun was up, heading back to your bedroom. You managed to find a pen and paper in the drawer of the desk in his room, leaving him a note that promised a raincheck on breakfast before slipping out.

When you woke up the second time it was in your own bed, in your room, and you were disoriented for a second as you tried to remember the night before. Everyone else, Rafe excluded, seemed to already be awake when you made it out to the kitchen. Sarah and Topper were sitting at the island eating while Wheezie was engaged in a pretty heated argument with Ward.  

“What’s the matter with them?” You asked, spooning some fruit into a bowl and sitting down next to Topper.  

“Wheezie wants to go to some aquarium at the resort,” Topper replied, “Sarah and I are going to the beach and Rose is going shopping.”

“It’s the aquarium in Atlantis,” Sarah said.  

“Oh well,” the door to the outside opened and Wheezie came in, red faced as Ward walked in after her, “I’m free to go to the aquarium.”

“Seriously?” Wheezie asked, suddenly perking up.

“Yeah, I’d actually love to go to the aquarium.” You’d rather that then lounging on the beach all day. Besides, you were pretty sure if you spent any more time around Rafe you would rush into something without giving it the thought it deserved.  

“Alright, aquarium it is.” Ward agreed, “but next time you throw a tantrum like that you’ll stay here, understood?”  

“Understood.” Wheezie repeated, biting down on her lower lip. Even though you could tell she was excited for the aquarium the obvious fear of disapproval from Ward won out.  

“Thanks,” Sarah whispered, leaning passed Topper to grab a piece of toast, “I just don’t wanna get stuck babysitting.”

You wanted to say that spending time with a thirteen year old didn’t amount to babysitting by any degree but you only nodded and said, “no worries.”

“What are we talking about?” Rafe asked, announcing his presence in the kitchen. He placed a hand on the back of you're chair and leaned over you to grab a piece of pineapple off your plate.  

“Hey!” You twisted around to look up at him, gaze trailing up a bare stomach and chest to meet his eyes. This was going to be a long week, “you can get your own breakfast.”

“Do you wanna go to the aquarium with us?” Wheezie asked, sitting down on the other side of the island.

“Who’s us?” He asked, still hovering over you.  

“Sarah and I are hitting the beach,” Topper replied, excluding them from Wheezie’s trip to the aquarium.

“I told Wheezie I’d go to the aquarium with her.” You said, smacking his hand when he tried to get another piece of pineapple. “Stop it.”  

His hands fell to your shoulders, gently squeezing before he let go, walking around the counter and grabbing some of the food that had been laid out for breakfast. You tried not to watch him as he moved. “Sorry, I was only trying to cash in on my raincheck.”  

“What are you talking about?” Sarah asked, looking between you and her brother.

“Nothing,” you coughed, glaring at Rafe, who only smiled. You didn’t miss the look he shared with Topper, one the suggested Sarah’s boyfriend knew exactly what Rafe was talking about.

“So,” Wheezie piped up, “do you wanna go with us?”

“Yeah alright,” Rafe agreed. He’d promised that he wouldn’t ditch her this vacation anyway and he intended to keep at least that promise. You were making it easier on him too, he could spend more time with you and hang out with Wheezie at the same time.  

-

The marine habitat in Atlantis was arguably the largest aquarium you’d ever been to and Wheezie was thoroughly enjoying stopping in front of every display, spitting out facts about different animals. “My teacher says I’m on track to becoming a marine biologist someday.” She mentioned as you walked through a deep sea fish exhibit.  

She was like a kid in a candy store from the moment you arrived, face to the glass. You lagged a little behind her, reading the cue cards that told you all the same facts that Wheezie already knew, taking in the sight of the aquarium and enjoying behind a spectator to her and Rafe.  

“Hey,” Rafe called, looking over at you as Wheezie stopped to strike up a conversation with one of the workers there. “Stop texting your boyfriend and pay attention.”

“Stop!” You laughed when he grabbed at your phone. You tried to pull it away but failed as Rafe took the phone out of your hands, holding it above his head. “God, you’re like the tallest person ever.” You grumbled, trying to reach but failing when he extended his arm all the way. “Rafe, give me my phone back.”

“We’re supposed to be on vacation, no phones.” He joked, trying to sound like your mom when she caught you texting at dinner the night before.

“Give me. My phone. Back.” You said, punctuating your words. He dropped it into your hands. “God, I forgot you were this annoying.”

“Annoying?” He turned to look at Wheezie, staring into a display, “hey Wheez, am I annoying?”

“Right now or general?”

“Unbelievable.” Rafe muttered though he smiled at the end.  

The tour resumed, your phone tucked securely into your back pocket as you walked through the aquarium with Wheezie and Rafe. She stopped again at the shark tank, looking in at the two sharks they had swimming around the indoor/outdoor habitat. Just like before, she zeroed in on the nearest worker and approached them, asking a million questions as she discussed the sharks with them.  

You stood there staring at the shark swimming through the habitat, feeling both like the conversation from earlier was over and like you wanted to continue you it. “I don’t have a boyfriend, by the way.” You blurted out, internally cursing your inability to ever let things go. “Which you knew because I told you. And besides, I wouldn’t have gone back to your room if I had a boyfriend.”

“Nothing happened.” Rafe replied, smirk working it’s way onto his face, “did you want something to happen?”  

“That’s not what I meant.” You huffed, crossing your arms under you chest and looking away from him.  

“I mean, there is a vacancy-”

“Shut up!” You knocked your hip against his.  

“Hey, I’m just laying it all out there. I mean, we’re only here for a week, might as well skip the small talk.” He shrugged.

“So I’ll...sleep with you?”

“You suggested it, not me.” He replied.  

“That’s not what I meant.” You insisted though you had definitely been thinking about it since the car ride to the Nassau house. Wheezie called the two of you over, finished looking at the sharks and ready to move on. “Besides, I’m not as tragically hideous as I was at thirteen but I’m also not as gullible.”  

“You were not tragically hideous.” Rafe laughed, following you as the two of you caught up with Wheezie.

“It was a pretty rough year, I had a golf ball sized bruise from a skateboarding accident.” You replied, “and that was just temporary...the rest of it was...”

“You were cute.”

“What?” You couldn’t hide the disbelief, even if you wanted to.  

“I thought you were cute.” Rafe repeated. “I’d use some different adjectives now but...you definitely weren’t hideous.” He said, walking ahead of you to meet up with Wheezie and leaving you standing there shocked.  

-

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[honeytea8]

La Dolce Vita • Risotto Nero/fem!Reader

A/N: I had the pleasure of doing an art trade with my sweet @string-bean-requiem and here it is!!! 💗💗 (it’s written with them in mind, but y’all can enjoy it too)

Word Count: 1.9K

Summary: A fun night on the town offers the rare chance of falling for a handsome stranger...though to be fair, is he really even a stranger?

Warnings: Some kissing💀 and implied spice, nothing explicit.

Italian nightlife had never been something you had the chance to enjoy. The reason being that Passione had taken up so much of your time and each day was spent completely on work-related things. While some of your teammates, namely Formaggio and Melone made it a point to enjoy their weekends off the best they could, you did not. In fact, you seldom had the opportunity to join Napoli’s party-going masses, let alone step foot into a nightclub or bar.

So, naturally, when a wind of change had come to sweep you onto a different course, you were very much inclined to let it. Despite the inkling of trepidation growing in the pit of your stomach, you were also filled with excitement for the night that awaited you. You knew better than to squander this rare moment.

Tonight, you were out of town, miles across the Tyrrhenian sea, on the largest island south of the Italian peninsula—a place called Sicily known for its long history and traditions.

After a successfully completed mission, you choose to reward yourself, on the final night of your trip, by stepping out and enjoying whatever intrigues such a place had to offer. Who knew when you’d ever get the chance again?

A club called Bona Furtuna came highly recommended to you by a certain Sicilian native. It was a simple but newly renovated warehouse on the coast near Palermo. According to the locals, it was the place to be on a night like this.

Although a bit stuffy and filled with smoke swirling in the air like dry ice, bodies continued to fill up the dance floor, moving in tandem with the music. Girls in leotards and heels provided bottle service and cigars—all of which were somewhat of a shock to you. Initially, your carefully honed instincts kept you from enjoying yourself to the fullest, but by your third mojito, you felt yourself loosening up. Following a shot of tequila after that, you could feel the baseline thrumming against your teeth as the bright strobe lights bounced off your skin and hair.

Your hips whirled to the beat, a sheen of sweat on your neck and back. The dress you wore clung to you like second skin. It became easier for you to feed off the atmosphere; your body moved on impulse, responding to the silent cues that played off the swarm of people around you. It was spellbinding. However, the alcohol in your system did little to negate some of your more ingrained senses. The feeling of eyes trained on your back was something like an alarm in your conscience, but you were not in danger, far from it actually.

You kept dancing, swinging along with the beat, bating your silent observer. If he wanted to spectate, he could do just that. But it would be even more fun if he just cut loose and joined you on the dance floor.

In due time, the music shifted to something with a slower tempo; it was then that you felt a warm hand on your waist.

Body to body, you moved against him with practiced ease, rolling against his hips in a way that was titillating, slow, and steady as a river. He guided your movements in time with his own, like he knew your body better than you did. In a way, it didn’t surprise you. You could tell he was getting into it. Feeling impish, you skirted away from him with a spin, tossing a wink over your shoulder and strutting your way to the bar for a little reprieve.

“Water, please.” You called out to the bartender. “Light on the ice.”

Not a moment later, a glass of water was placed in front of you, but before you could reach for it, you caught sight of a mop of violet hair in your peripheral.

Your dance partner had joined you at the bar and with him came the familiar scent of Boucheron cologne and the perfect blend of citrus and spice. Finally able to see him in better light, you considered some of his most notable features. His beautiful aquiline nose; his red irises ringed in black sclera, which was unusual by nature. But held an equally intense and honest quality that made you smile a little. He was lovely to look at, dressed sharply in a crisp button up shirt with a few of them unfastened that gave a nice little peek at his chest.

He leaned against the bar, managing to tower over you still, though you remained undaunted. “Can I buy you a drink?” He asked.

“I’m okay with this.” was your simple but quick-witted reply, all the while, you eyed him sharply over the rim of your glass.

He looked amused, maybe even a little surprised by your quick denial, but not at all discouraged. That was a good sign, maybe he’d prove to be interesting company tonight. You couldn’t deny that he was attractive; the kind of sexy one didn’t have to try for. You decided introductions were in order so you offered him your name and hand, smiling when he took it and kissed it.

“My name is Risotto.” He said with a dimpled half-smile.

“A pleasure to meet you, Risotto.” And although he left you to do most of the talking, your conversation continued without a hitch. Eventually, when you asked what he was doing back in his hometown, Risotto revealed he was just here for business.

“What kind of business?”

He smirked. “Not the kind of thing I can share so easily with you.”

After that admission, you finally allowed him to buy you another drink before you both made your way back to the dance floor. You weren’t as coherent as you were prior. Inhibitions fell to the wayside and you swayed on your feet a bit, but thankfully Risotto held you firm, like an anchor in the sea of alcohol in your system.

You moved like an uncoiled rope, eyes alight with mischief, and a smile on your orange painted lips.

“Come now, Risotto.” You called over the music. “I’m sure you can dance better than that!”

“You’re really gonna keep up this act, cara?” He asked.

You looped an arm around his neck, and guided his hand onto your waist like before. In a golden moment of genuine amusement, Risotto laughed, showing off a row of perfect teeth.

“Yes, I am, even if you keep breaking character!” You carded your fingers through the hair at his nape, smiling as you leaned forward to peck his lips. “Now remember, we have never met!”

Risotto nodded, still smirking. You should’ve known he had something up his sleeve. He took one of your hands and twirled you around, then dipped you low enough that your cleavage was on display for half a second at most before he lifted you and pulled you close to his chest. It was minutes later that you noticed he was doing the tarantella, or a modernized version of this dance. It seemed the warm atmosphere brought out of the Sicilian boy that lived deep within the ever-stoic Risotto.

You and he danced all night until your feet were tender and he was left to carry your heels in one hand while holding you close with the other. His brawny arm was slung over your shoulder, and yours was looped around his waist for support.

“I love you,” you murmured into his armpit; it’s where you had managed to shove your head as he half-carried you back to your shared motel. When he didn’t immediately respond you chanced a peek at him. “Did you hear what I said?” You pouted a little, but all Risotto did was blink at you.

It was around two in the morning and the streets were empty save for the occasional civilian. Risotto pressed your back against the brick wall of a neighboring building. He guided one of your long legs around his waist just as you snaked both arms around his neck. The rough pad of his thumb brushed against your lips, the only warning you received before his mouth was on yours and kissing you deeply. The world and everything with it fell away in that single moment. One of your hands slipped down to fist his shirt. It was odd to feel him wearing one, especially with you being so accustomed to feeling his bare skin.

When he finally released you, Risotto murmured a quiet, “I love you too, always,” against the seam of your mouth before finally scooping you up and carrying you all the way home—where he could truly show you his love privately.

By morning, you were greeted with the heavy weight of an arm slung around your waist and warm breaths ghosting your neck. The sky was still blue, almost black but sounds of birds chirping was enough to confirm that it was indeed early. Groaning, you shifted in bed, feeling the muggy heat in the room and only the stifled breeze filtering in through an open window. Sicily was incredibly hot in the mornings; it was enough to make you sweat even as you slept.

Next to you Risotto’s eyes slowly fluttered open, and he was given a full view of your naked back. He pressed a feather light kiss to your bare shoulder before sitting up from the bed. It never took him long to fully wake up. When it came to vigor and strength, he was seemingly unmatched.

“We should head back in about an hour.” Risotto said, voice slightly hoarse, as he picked up his phone from where it was still charging near his suitcase. “We have a text from Prosciutto and several missed calls from Ghiaccio.” He raked a hand through his dyed hair as he spoke. You couldn’t help but notice that the purple color suited him nicely.

“Hm, that’s fine by me.” You yawned, dragging the sheets over your body, and tucking the excess under your arms.

Whatever meager strength you had was only enough to keep you barely coherent. You were tired from all the drinking and dancing, though you had fun, the morning after was one thing you could do without.

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?” You watched as your boyfriend scrolled through his phone, likely giving the squad a status update.

Risotto looked up from the device, lips parted and eyes wide like a scandalized old man.

“I meant the clubbing,” you corrected. “Did you enjoy our little game?”

He finally shrugged and gave a noncommittal hum; Capo Risotto was back in full effect, it seemed. You gazed at his bare chest, silently admiring the way his muscles flexed underneath his skin. You nearly missed his belated response.

“You were...a bit difficult in the beginning.”

“Oh? I didn’t notice.” You laughed.

Risotto watched as you milled about the hotel room, tossing random articles of clothes into your suitcase. You’d found a clean pair of panties and slipped them on quickly, while discarding the bedsheets in favor of an old t-shirt. When you came over to where he was standing, you held his leather coat in hand.

“I believe this belongs to you.”

He snorted lightly, before leaning in and capturing your lips in a soft kiss as thanks. Together you both dressed, forgoing breakfast so you wouldn't miss your ferry trip back to Naples.

As you gripped Risotto’s hand upon reentering the base, you leaned into him and bumped him tenderly with your hip. You toed off your shoes, suddenly greeted by the telltale sound of several arguing voices. And it was coming straight from the main room. You looked to Risotto with a heavy sigh.

“Will we ever get another night off?”

Risotto glanced down at you, understanding your pain. “We’ll try, tesoro.”

[rjhpandapaws]

When the Music Plays

Chapter 1: Jimmy's

Tw: Hank alcoholism and suicidal ideation.

A/N: just a reminder that I am playing fast and loose with Canon

Hank wasn’t the best with technology, for that and other reasons he kept clear of androids; but even he knew things were changing. Androids were going missing with more and more frequency. An alarming number of people were reporting being attacked by their androids before they disappeared. It was something bigger than programing issues he suspected, and he also knew he didn’t want to be anywhere near it when things finally fell apart. As usual though it seemed fate wasn’t all that inclined to listen to him. He was doing what he normally did on days like this; avoiding his responsibilities and making a valiant attempt to drown whatever braincells were stubborn enough to stick around. Old Fashioned had gotten too complicated a few hours back so he had moved on to straight whiskey hoping that his consciousness would get the hint and move on as well. He’d pass out at the bar in his usual fashion and Jimmy would wake him up at last call; he’d drive home and pray to get in a wreck, feed Sumo if he survived, sleep, then repeat everything again if he woke up again. Except that tonight his consciousness was too stubborn to leave. He was hunched over the bar, all but face first in his whiskey when Jimmy’s hand came into his line of sight. Once he had Hank’s attention he pointed over his shoulder. Hank turned to look, and standing right there in his sanctuary was a fucking android. Fucking fantastic.

The things Hank has liked about Jimmy’s had been that there were no androids allowed on the premises and everyone would mind their own damn business, too busy drinking to worry about what was happening around them. Except now there was an android in the middle of the bar and everyone was staring at him. What had been a sanctuary was no longer safe. The android was talking and the nice thing about being Deaf was that he could easily ignore him simply by not looking at him. So he turned back to the bar to continue nursing his whiskey. The thing had the nerve to sit beside him. It gave Hank time to finish his whiskey before it tapped on his shoulder to get his attention. Hank thought about trying to ignore him again, but he had the sneaking suspicion that wasn’t going to work. It had after all made itself at home in a clearly anti android bar. It was either here for him, had no sense of self preservation; or if Hank was particularly unlucky, both. He sighed and turned to face the android. Immediately it started talking again. Hank withheld the urge to bash his head against the bar as he picked up his hands to sign, ‘I Deaf.’ The android took a moment of pause. The Led om his temple blinked for a few cycles. It returned to blue and began to sign, ‘You Lieutenant A-N-D-E-R-S-ON?’

Hank wanted to groan, ‘Yes.’ He signed the letter ‘A’ and tapped it over his heart for his rank and name sign in one making things easier, ‘You Want What?’ ‘I Look For You.’ The android signed sharply, ‘I Find You After Five Bars.’ ‘You Want What?’ Hank repeated going as far as to tap the android’s chest. ‘I Sent For You. Active Case.’ It signed, ‘My Name C-O-N-N-O-R.’ He took a moment to to sign ‘machine’ but with the letter ‘C’. ‘I From CyberLife.’ Of course it was. Androids had taken every other job, and at long last it seemed they were coming after his. He sighed and rubbed at his face. ‘Tough Shit. I Not Join You.’ He didn’t even get back to facing the bar again before Connor tapped his shoulder again. Hank groaned and turned back to it. ‘If I Buy Drink You Will Come With Me?’ Connor asked and tipped his head to emphasize the question. Hank figured he had nothing left to lose. Connor had already made it clear he had no plans to leave him alone. So much so that he had made himself comfortable in a place that he clearly wasn’t welcome. ‘Sure. Why Not.’ There was no getting out of this as it was, so he might as well get a free drink out of it.

Hank didn’t see the bill Connor had slid across the counter, but after a long moment Jimmy slid him another whiskey. He took his time with it. He had to work this evening, which most likely meant dealing with Gavin and that wasn��t something he wanted to do sober. Connor just lingered. He sat stiffly in the corner of Hank’s vision, a constant reminder that he was one mistake away from being replaced. He didn’t know what Jeff was thinking with this, but Hank was certain he wasn’t going to like it. Unfortunately, a single glass of whiskey could only be made to last so long. Not to mention that Connor was just outside his line of sight as a solid reminder that there as no getting out of this. He sighed and set the empty glass down on the bar then stood. Connor followed him to the end of the bar and watched him settle the tab. It was creepy as all fuck. He got in his car and Connor got in on the passenger’s side without prompting which unsettled him. Hank reached across the car and opened the glove box. He felt around until he found his hearing aid case. He took them out and put them in, he turned them on, then put the radio on a volume where talking would be unpleasant if not difficult. With everything settled he made his way to the location that Connor had sent to his phone. Hank found androids as a whole to be off putting, not the least of this was because of how real they looked. This of course extended to Connor as well, but there was more to it than that when it came to him. He looked young, innocent almost and it was uncomfortable. Hank didn’t trust it. Androids had no reason to look like that. Something was up, and Hank had a feeling he was going to find out whether he wanted to or not. This android had sought him out and there was a reason for that. It was a mystery he would rather not solve, but he knew that wasn’t up to him either. So in his usual fashion, he planned to ignore it until it became unavoidable. They pulled into the scene and Hank turned off the radio and then turned to face Connor, “Stay in the car.” He said firmly and went so far to sign ‘stay’ as he spoke. “Got it.” Came the android’s response. His voice was somehow both earnest and emotionless. It was added to the list of things Hank found unsettling about Connor. Hank didn’t trust that he would actually stay in the car but he still got out. As much as he disliked it, he still had a job to do. If he got it done quickly enough he might even be able to go back to Jimmy’s and finished his night the right way. Drunk enough that none of this would stick around, or be a distant memory at the very least. He didn’t even make to the police line before he heard the other car door close. As he had suspected, his orders were not the ones Connor was designed to follow.

He waved at Ben who responded in kind then looked over Hank’s shoulder with a perplexed expression. Hank could hazard a guess at who or rather what he was looking at. Connor who was dutifully following him like some overly eager rookie. “I didn’t think you one to get an android.” Ben remarked with notable confusion to his voice. Hank gave another sigh, his annoyance mounting further, “He’s not mine. CyberLife sent it to try and figure out what is going on, I’m just along for the ride I suppose.” Ben eyed Connor and he and Hank both crossed the police line. Hank changed his focus to the scene, though it took longer than he would have liked given the whiskey coursing through his system. He kept one eye on Connor as he looked over the scene. He wanted to know what had happened here as well as what Connor was capable of. From what he had gathered from the landlord Carlos Ortiz hadn’t been the best tenant, or even a good one at that. A Red Ice addiction and an android, those two things never mixed well as it was. Now the guy was dead, and like many androids as of late, his has vanished. Hank figured Connor was here for the android and he would be left with the homicide. It made the most sense. So with that plan in mind he made his way into the house.

The house was a mess, which Hank had for the most part expected. His years spent as a detective were the only things that kept him from losing his stomach at the smell. He talked to some of the other officers that were present before he went over the scene itself. Once he had an idea of what had happened he stepped out of the way to let Connor do his thing. Whatever that happened to be. He watched Connor go over the scene. It was unusual. The android would stand in one corner of the room or a doorway and observe the room as though he was watching something that Hank was unable to see. After that it would go through the room and observe the evidence. The LED would cycle between yellow and blue. What Hank was by no means ready for was when Connor swiped two of his fingers through god only knew what and then licked it. “Jesus Christ. Connor what the fuck?” Hank groaned as he looked away. “My apologies Lieutenant.” He didn’t sound the least bit sorry, “I have a fully functional forensic analysis unit and I wanted results on the thirium before it evaporated.” “Just don’t do it again.” Hank replied as he turned back toward Connor. “Got it.” Connor responded in the same empty earnest tone from the car that Hank didn’t trust for a moment.

They moved through the house and the process repeated itself, save for the licking of mystery substances thankfully. The bathroom was a sight to behold. They both agreed that it was the android’s doing, but it was strange. As Hank understood it, android’s didn’t think. There was no way for them to develop beliefs, faith, or create something this ritual. Yet there it was. It was concerning in how unusual it was, and Hank was once again uncomfortable. This android, wherever it was, was defective and dangerous; but it also seemed like something more was going on. Hank couldn’t place what and he was getting more suspicious. Connor was looking up at the ceiling like he could see something that wasn’t there. Hank looked up to be sure, and other than the latch to the crawl space there was nothing up there. Connor’s LED rolled yellow and stayed there for a long moment. He passed Hank on his way out of the bathroom and Hank hesitated before he followed. Connor met him in the hallway with a chair from the dining room and Hank’s confusion only grew. “Connor, what are you doing?” He asked as he turned toward the bathroom. “The android is still here.” Came the distant reply. His voice was still emotionless and flat, but somehow colder at the same time. It teetered on dangerous and Hank didn’t like it.

Hank waited in the hallway because he had the feeling he wouldn’t want to be in the way when Connor came down with that android. He couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling from having heard Connor’s voice so dangerous but flat at the same time. It didn’t suit how he had been built to look, though Hank supposed that was the point. As it stood, the fact that CyberLife felt the need to get personally involved in this; as personal as sending an android to do your bidding could be; made him uncomfortable. Why send an android liaison? What were they trying to do? All of it was suspicious. There was more going on than they were being told, he just needed to figure out what. A commotion from the attic brought him out of his thoughts. Connor had found the android and apparently it didn’t plan to come quietly. Hank moved back toward the main part of the house; he didn’t want to be caught between two androids with something to settle. Connor and the other android got into another smaller scuffle in the front yard before they made their way back to the station to try and question the thing. There had the be a reason for it to have snapped like that. The alternative was that it was only a matter of time before every android out in the world did something like this; and that was not a line of thought that Hank was too keen on entertaining.

Gavin was waiting for them outside of the interrogation room when they got back and Hank had decided that he was way too sober for this. Hank pushed to have Connor question the android, it was the only way he could think of to get answers from it. Though as he watched Connor effortlessly manipulate it he came to regret that. Everything about Connor made him nervous, and that was before the other android had decided to self destruct in its holding cell. As Hand drove home in what was now the early hours of the morning he had the feeling that this was going to get so much worse before it got better. That, and he had better get used to this ever-present discomfort because he likely hadn’t seen every side of Connor yet.

[chrstbll]

finally found you. | ben hargreeves

 (gif not mine)

pairing: ben hargreeves x reader

tag: @grievingghost​

note: my first request ever! i just wanted to tell you, you made my whole day. thank you :) i hope you'll enjoy this one! xx i tried my best.

plot: Spending two years in the ‘60s, Ben starts to get concerned after every one of his siblings show up, except you. They find you where they least expect to. 

Returning to the huge mansion Klaus’s cult were positioned, the fourth sibling lazily slopped down on the couch of his bedroom. Removing a few pieces of clothing from his outfit, he made himself more comfortable and started to doze off, his baggy, tired eyes shuttering close.

“God, what a long day of saving the world. I don’t know how Superman does it daily.” he yawned and turned to his side. Klaus met up with exactly five of his siblings today to discuss the plan on how to return to their true timeline. Five pretty serious about saying  it was now or never. None of them forgot you, Diego notably. The two of you shared a strong bond that most siblings usually don’t. He looked for you in multiple states throughout the years, but eventually he had to stop for his own good. He hated the plan solely because they couldn’t do anything but leave you behind. Even after they tried to look for you, every evidence has led to a dead end.

“Oh, I’m sure you’re real sleepy.” a snarky voice spoke up in front of him. Klaus’ eyes popped open, but quickly relaxed when he recognised that it’s only Ben making his stupid comments.

“Just shut up, man. Let me have one good afternoon nap for once. Please...” he begged with a hoarse voice. Ben wasn’t buying any of his crap today, as Klaus did more things than usual that infuriated the ghost. For example, when he asked to let the others know he’s present as well, he simply laughed in his face.

“Shouldn’t you be at least a tiny bit of worried that we might leave in a few days, and (Y/N) still haven’t walked by us once? Shouldn’t you be? Because I am, and I don’t know why the dead one has to motivate you to look for your sister!” he scolded Klaus without stuttering once. He was sure you were alright. He knew how strong you were, especially when you had to face problems yourself. He assured himself everday since they got here, that they would eventually run into you or you’d find them. His anxiety only arose when Five declared his plan and you were still nowhere to be found.

“Weren’t you with me this whole time? We looked for her! For two years I thought my family was dead, can I be at least a little happy for them?” Klaus sounded angry and desperate at the same time. He was now sitting up and facing his brother with a hardened look on his face.

“Well we didn’t look hard enough! You didn’t!” Ben only angered Klaus more.

“I’m sorry my little brother, but she’s probably dead in a ditch somewhere “he groaned “Knowing her, she’d be here already, but she isn’t. You must accept it, she’s gone. End of story! “Klaus lashed out in a manner which resulted in one thing.

Ben punched him.

“Did I convince you?”

“Yeah.”

The question 'What would you do, if you travelled back in time to the '60s?' would probably be the title of a little kid's first essay in school that they’d have a hard time writing. Even after two years of living in this timeline, you’d have no idea what to write either.

Searching in hopes of finding at least one alive sibling of your family was a quest you gave up exactly today. After desperately trying day after day, you finally sat down in a bar. The feeling of hopelessness and disappointment weighted down on your shoulders. Two years and none of them turning up really took its toll on you. Maybe Five has a plan, right? You thought of every single one of them, but one face in your memory ached your heart more than the rest. Memories of Ben kept popping up in your brain, and honestly, this time you didn’t mind. Since the day he’s been gone, you grieved him and kept his memory close to your heart.

You thought back to that night after Reginald’s funeral, when Klaus revealed to you that the boy you tied strong feelings to was still around. The first time in seventeen years that you were able to reconnect with him, and God, was it amazing and heart-breaking at the same time. Ever since then, you felt a little less alone. Even though you were surrounded by your living siblings, it made you a little bit happier knowing all eight of you were there.

With the  money you managed to save up, you bought a drink. You looked around and saw exactly what everyday life was like here. Excessive amount of drinking and smoking hand in hand, usually older, grungy white men enjoying their addiction of poker where they stole anything they possibly could from their opponents.

While you were waiting for your drink, your eyes wandered through a room. Today wasn’t the day you expected something out of ordinary to happen. But here it was. You could feel your body freeze and your blood pressure go up at the same time when your eyes spot a slim male figure, with long brown and wavy locks dressed in funny clothing in the farthest part of the room. He was arguing with thin air. For a few seconds you looked at him weird and that was when the realisation hit you.

Klaus!

Already forgetting your drink, you abruptly stood up from the bar stool. Quickly crossing the room, you made your way over to Klaus, not taking your eyes off him. You bumped into a few people which granted you some mean remarks, but you didn’t even hear them. As if everything turned to grey in the room, and only Klaus was in colour. You picked up the pace when it looked like he was about leave. Your heart was pounding, your ears were ringing, and you couldn’t believe that it was actually him until you crashed into his body and wrapped him in a suffocating hug.  

He wasn’t realising the situation until he saw the shocked Ben behind you. He looked at you and back at him, repeating several times before returning the tight hug. He began laughing almost hysterically and he was sure he felt his eyes tear up. When he pulled away, he was still grabbing your shoulders to make sure you were real and not going away. 

“Damn, girl, didn’t you want to show up sooner?” he joked.

“I wanted to. Believe me” you replied. You were breathless, but so over the moon at the same time for finally getting a hold of your brother.

If only you could see the pure ecstasy that got a hold of Ben in a matter of seconds. He was in the middle of a heated argument with Klaus about him saying that you most likely won’t be here and how stupid of an idea it was to come here. He swore he was about to launch another punch at him, when suddenly you exploded into Klaus’ arms. The atmosphere instantly softened just like his whole being did. If he were alive, he’d be sure as hell his heart would’ve jumped out of his chest right then and there. The relief and happiness thanks to you combined affected him as if a fresh glass of water was offered up to him after days of insufferable thirst. 

Klaus presented the idea to return to his place where you can catch up on everything in peace. You didn’t mention Ben yet, however he was the only one on your mind. You were thinking about asking Klaus if he could conjure up his ghost so he can be visible to your eyes as well, or just simply deliver some messages. But you also didn’t want to make him feel like a translator or a third-wheel at all, but greedines got the best of you.

“Can I talk to Ben when we get back?” you asked softly “If it’s alright with you.” you added. The anxiety was obviously recognizable in your voice, but perhaps it was for the reason that you feared being rejected by your brother or because you were in despair to share a few words with your deceased lover at last. 

“It’s only fair (Y/N)” he smiled to himself “ So of course. Plus I’m already tired of Benny boy gushing in the backseat” The statement made you laugh wholeheartedly, something you haven’t done in a while. 

Sitting down in his room, you were filled with excitement. You saw Klaus how hard he focused on his powers, so you remained still and quiet, but you would have anyway from feeling incredibly nervous.

As a shape started to take form with a blissful blue layer over itself on the couch in front of you, you found Ben himself smiling warmly back at you. His eyes glistened, his features fit him perfectly in his mature age, and he just looked perfect.

“Finally found you.” he beamed.

[charincharge]

Cruel Summer, Part 12

cruel summer masterlist

AN: Writing has been slower this week with what’s been going on in the news. Hope the wait was worth it? 

Aelin wakes up cold and alone in her bed, and it’s a bizarre feeling. It feels like forever since she hasn’t greeted the day without Rowan beside her. It seems in his sleep, he can’t stay away from her, and each morning she’s woken with his arm draped over her chest and his nose tucked into her shoulder. She frowns, looking at the empty spot next to her and picks up her phone to see if he's texted. He hasn’t.

She does have about a dozen texts from Dorian apologizing for bailing on her last night. He reminds her that he wants to get laid this summer, too, and lets her know it was all worth it because he went home with some hot EMT named Sorcha. Aelin texts him a thumbs up and then switches back to Rowan’s message thread.

She rereads his last text and can’t help but wonder what his plans are tonight. She contemplates asking him, but ultimately concludes that it’s none of her business. He’d tell her if he wanted to. Instead, she texts him, asking when his next day off is so they can plan going to the park, which she thinks is innocent enough.

He doesn’t reply, but that’s not unusual for the hour. If there’s one thing Aelin has learned from sleeping over at Rowan’s it’s that he is not a morning person. In fact, he has a horrible habit of snoozing his alarm until the very last possible minute, when he knows he’ll arrive at the park exactly when it opens, instead of the ten minutes early he’s supposed to get there.

Aelin gets ready and lounges around her room until she hears the doorbell ring. She bounds down the stairs with a loud, “I’ve got it!” before swinging the door open. Elide smiles widely on the other side and throws herself at Aelin with a tight hug.

“Ugh, I missed you,” Elide says, pushing her giant sunglasses onto her head as she steps into the house.

“You two are adorable,” Evalin chuckles, giving Elide a hug of her own. “Missing each other, even though Aelin’s been spending nearly every night at your house this week.”

Elide raises an eyebrow and flashes her dark eyes at Aelin, who cuts her off with a blinding smile at her parents.

“You know us,” Aelin says, grabbing Elide’s hand in hers and pulling her towards the kitchen. “Adorable.” Aelin glances at Elide, silencing her swirling questions with a pleading glance. “Now come on, let’s go make margaritas.”

“Keep an ear out for the doorbell, please,” Rhoe calls out to his daughter. “I’m expecting an important package from the city, and you’ll have to sign for it.”

Aelin pauses. “Where are you two going?”

“Into town for errands, then a board meeting,” Evalin explains.

“Then to Aedion and Lysandra’s for dinner,” Rhoe continues. “You’re welcome to join, but we assumed you two would have plans tonight.”

“Right. We do.” Aelin sends her parents off with a happy smile and best wishes for her niece and nephew, and with that they’re gone.

Aelin walks into the kitchen, Elide trailing silently beside her. Aelin grabs the tequila and margarita mix and pours it into the blender with some ice cubes. The blender fills the silent room with its loud whir for a few moments, and then Aelin pours them two very large glasses. When she looks up, Elide’s head is in her hand as she leans over the counter with a wicked grin plastered across her face, her eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“You really think you’re going to get away without telling me who the guy is?” Elide cackles.

Aelin groans. “After my first marg. Please?”

“Nuh uh,” Elide says through her first sip. “You’ve been using me as an alibi! I think I deserve to know.”

Aelin begs her friend silently with imploring eyes, and Elide scoffs and takes another sip. “Fine,” she concedes. “Tell me later. I won’t forget.”

“I have no doubt.” Aelin salutes her tiny friend and grabs some tortilla chips and Emrys’s fresh guacamole from the fridge. At the sound of food, Fleetfoot wakes from her slumber and bounds out of her bed to circle Aelin’s heels. Aelin grabs her bed and takes it with them outside. Fleetfoot plops down and promptly falls asleep again.

The pair grab two lounge chairs and strip down to their bathing suits. Aelin’s wearing her skimpiest string bikini in an attempt to prevent crazy tan lines, but as she goes to tighten the strings on her bikini bottoms, she sees the bruises the same time Elide does.

Four fingertip-shaped blue-grey dots scatter across Aelin’s hip, with a larger one in the back. Aelin tries not to stay composed, but she can’t help but blush when she remembers the feel of Rowan gripping her hips from behind, his hands tightening around her with every pronounced thrust.

“So, you’re seeing someone… strong,” Elide chokes out through her poorly stifled laughter. “Oh come on, Ae, just tell me.”

Aelin stretches out on the lounge and takes a large sip of her margarita. “It’s Rowan,” she finally says.

Elide’s eyes look like they’re about to bug out of her head at her confession. “Rowan, Rowan? Like, my coworker Rowan? Rowan Whitethorn? That Rowan?”

Aelin’s brow furrows. “Why are you saying it like that?”

Elide shrugs. “I don’t know… he’s just… not your usual type? He’s so blonde! And shy.”

“He’s so hot is what he is,” Aelin says, wiggling her eyebrows, and Elide laughs outright. “And he is anything but shy in bed.”

Elide snorts. “I can see that.” She takes a long sip of her margarita, her eyes flicking down to Aelin’s bruised hip before staring back at her friend. “So come on, are you going to tell me about it, or do I have to beg for details?”

Aelin can’t help but gush. She’s been holding in all these details, because she knows she can’t tell them to Dorian. And now that Elide knows, the dam is ready to burst. Which is good, because Elide wants absolutely no detail spared. So, Aelin starts at the beginning.

She gives Elide a thorough description of their time together – the kissing booth, the kiss under the docks, how he gave her the most mind-blowing orgasm of her life by going down on her, how he makes sure she comes first (every. single. time!), how when Elide ran into them they were definitely buying condoms (which Elide can’t help but crack up at), how Aelin always thought she liked being on top best because she could control things, but there’s this thing when’s on top of her and hitches her leg over his, that he can reach a spot she didn’t even think truly existed.

“I swear, I think I blacked out the first time,” Aelin says, refilling their margarita glasses. “Or saw God.”

“It’s always the quiet ones,” Elide cackles.

“Is he quiet?” Aelin asks, and Elide nods emphatically.

“Oh my god, yes. He didn’t even make eye contact with me the first week,” Elide says. “Lorcan got some perverse pleasure out of forcing him into conversations. He was so petrified of him.”

Aelin smirks. “Lorcan, huh?” Elide takes a large sip of her drink, but her eyes glaze over with wistfulness. “How’s that going? And don’t deny it. You’ve both been pining for each other for years.”

“We have not!” Elide insists. “Lorcan doesn’t pine. He broods.” Elide giggles. “I might be having too much fun torturing him this summer.”

Aelin barks out a laugh. “Oh my god, tell me everything.”

“It was all actually Manon’s idea,” Elide confesses. “To make him so jealous that he’d break down and ask me out.”

“Manon, as in, Rowan’s Manon?” At the mention of him, Aelin can’t help but check her phone. Still no reply from Rowan. Aelin’s lips tug downward, but she forces them into an eager grin as Elide explains how she’s made Lorcan’s summer a living hell.

“So how did this all start?” Aelin asks.

“Well, I told Manon that I liked someone, had for years, and I thought they liked me, but they’d never asked me out, so I didn’t know for sure,” Elide explains. Aelin nods, listening to her friend babble about how Manon offered herself up as a constant companion – hanging out and enjoying themselves in all the places Lorcan usually frequents, the shitty dive bar he loves so much, the steakhouse on Main Street, etc. etc. Completely ignoring Lorcan’s presence and just having the best time the two of them.

“And how does Manon feel about Lorcan?” Aelin asks. She can’t imagine the two of them getting along, for some reason.

“Oh, they’ve never interacted,” Elide confesses. “In fact, I didn’t even tell her it was Lorcan I was interested in until this week. But we’re supposed to go to his bowling league tonight. You should come if you and Rowan don’t already have plans?”

Aelin loves bowling. For some reason, her hand/eye coordination only applies to bowling and mini golf, and she hasn’t been in forever. She’s thrilled to tell Elide she’s free tonight.

“We should take a picture,” Elide suggests, apropos of nothing. “We look fucking hot, and the internet deserves to know.”

“I didn’t know Lorcan’s nickname was the internet,” Aelin giggles, and Elide rolls her eyes and takes out her phone to snap some pictures.

Aelin and Elide spend the next hour finishing their pitcher of margaritas and taking selfies, trying to get the best angles of their cleavage and the rest of their scantily clad bodies for Instagram. Aelin finally decides to post one of Elide sharing her lounge with her, squished together, and Elide’s lips pressed against her cheek in a firm kiss while Aelin scrunches her nose and grins. She captions it, Wish you were here and then at the last second adds a question mark before posting it. The comments start coming in – each one a resounding YES. But, one name is notably absent from them.

Elide posts one of them cheersing their drinks with the caption: FRI-YAY. Aelin likes it immediately, and smiles when she sees that Lorcan likes it at the same time. She can’t help the small pang of jealousy that stirs within her. But she pushes it down and suggests they get into the pool. They’ve been sitting in the sun for long enough.

Aelin jumps in like a pencil, her body slicing through the cool water. Her feet reach the bottom quickly, and she pushes up and breaks through the surface. She sees Fleetfoot, at the side of the pool, barking her little head off. Aelin swims to the side and comforts the puppy.

“I’m okay!” Aelin smiles at the golden ball of fur. “Look, I’m fine!”

Without hesitation, Fleetfoot flings herself off the ledge and into the pool and swims directly to Aelin. It’s pretty much the cutest thing she’s ever seen. She and Elide take turns making Fleetfoot swim to them until the small dog tires, and Aelin lifts her out of the pool. She jumps right back in.

“You’re going to drown!” Aelin scolds, pulling her out again. The dog cries, and Aelin throws a sympathetic look to Elide. “I think I need to get out.”

Elide laughs and holds up her hands. “I’m turning into a prune anyway.”

As they get out, Aelin finally hears the doorbell ring. She remembers her dad’s package and wraps her towel around her waist before heading to the foyer to sign. But it’s not a delivery on the other side of the door, but the low-key brunette she spent yesterday with.

“Sam!” she exclaims, her arms crossing over her bikini-clad chest. “What are you doing here?”

Sam’s eyes stare into hers hard, and she can tell that he’s trying extremely hard not to look down at her chest, which she appreciates. She feels way too exposed in front of this practical stranger.

“I texted you earlier,” he begins. “But I didn’t hear from you.”

“Yeah, I’ve been in the pool…” Aelin explains, though the explanation is clearly unnecessary. She’s dripping wet and wearing a bathing suit. The situation seems pretty clear.

“I can see that,” he says, and his eyes finally flit down her body and immediately force themselves back to her face. She watches as his cheeks darken with a deep red blush, his freckles blurring into the flushed color. Flustered, he shakes his head. “You were just so nice to me yesterday, and I’ve been sitting in that empty house all day while my Aunt and Uncle are out, and I figured I could see what you were up to. But I’m sorry, you’re clearly busy. I shouldn’t have come over.”

“Sam,” Aelin chuckles lightly. “It’s fine. I had fun yesterday, too. Come on in.”

He pauses, unsure if her offer is genuine, but Aelin waves him in and leads him out to the pool where Elide is back in her lounger, with Fleetfoot splayed out beside her, drying in the late afternoon sun. Aelin drags up another chair for Sam, who leans forward to introduce himself to Elide. He then sits on the lounger and crosses his legs – one plaid pant leg over the other.

As Elide peppers Sam with questions about where he’s from and what he’s doing here for the summer, Aelin takes a moment to make another pitcher of margaritas and bring a glass back for Sam, who accepts it with a grateful smile.

“So, I hear you two are going bowling tonight,” Sam says, and Aelin nods.

Elide looks to Aelin probingly, and Aelin realizes Sam has probably just told Elide about the passing of his father, and how he’s expected to take over his family business come August. That’s what he spent the majority of dinner talking about last night, and it’s clear it’s weighing on him immensely. She can’t imagine having to take over a giant company at his age while also mourning the death of a parent. She internally sighs, knowing what she has to do.

Aelin smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You should come, Sam.”

“Really?” he asks, somewhat surprised.

“Yeah!” Elide says, excited. “There’s a whole league thing tonight, so I’m sure you’ll meet a ton of people.”

Sam smiles warmly. “Why would I want to meet more people, when I’m with the two prettiest girls in town?”

Aelin rolls her eyes, but Elide laughs. “Just wait until you see Manon!”

As Elide and Sam chat back and forth, Aelin picks up her phone again. Still no reply from Rowan. She frowns. He’s gone on his lunch break already and has certainly looked at his phone.

“Expecting to hear from someone?” Elide asks, her eyes wide with innocence.

“No,” Aelin replies too quickly. “Just seeing what Dorian’s up to tonight.” She pauses. “He’s busy.” Aelin is grateful when Elide doesn’t call her blatant lie out.

Instead, the three of them sit in the sun for another hour, chatting about their favorite summer activities, until Aelin declares she should shower and get ready. Sam agrees to do the same and meet them back at Aelin’s at 8pm.

Aelin’s shower is a far cry from the last shower she had. She presses her fingers in the bruised spots at her hips and imagines they’re Rowan’s strong hands instead of her dainty ones. Her fingers slip over her wet thighs and between her legs, and she brings herself to pleasure quickly. It’s not nearly as fulfilling as when Rowan does it, she can’t help but notice. But, she also hasn’t been able to stop thinking about him all day, and she knew she couldn’t leave the house all worked up.

By the time Aelin is ready to go, Rowan still hasn’t texted her back. She’s not ashamed to admit it’s driving her a little bit insane. What has been keeping him so busy that he can’t even text her back? She decides that it’s been long enough that she can text him again. She takes a quick selfie, showing off her subtle cleavage and sends it off with a text asking how she looks.

As she and Elide wait in the foyer for Sam, Aelin stops pretending she’s not waiting for a text reply and keeps her phone out in her hand. Elide can’t help but comment. “You like him.”

“Who?” Aelin asks, distracted.

“The Chaol 2.0 lookalike who was here all afternoon,” Elide jokes. “No, dummy. Rowan.

“Of course I like him.”

“No, but I mean you really like him.”

Aelin shrugs. She does like Rowan, and she definitely missed him today.

“He’s nice,” Aelin says carefully. “We’re friends.”

“Who fuck,” Elide adds. “Usually when I’m friends with the person I’m sleeping with, it’s called a relationship.”

“Or, friends with benefits.”

Elide raises an eyebrow at her friend. “So, what, it’s just some dirty secret affair?”

Aelin frowns. “Affair sounds so tawdry.”

Their banter is interrupted by Sam’s arrival. He looks preppy as ever, and Aelin finally understands Elide’s Chaol 2.0 comment. Their coloring is fairly similar, and all dressed up for a night out, they both have a similar air about them. This is exactly who Aelin’s parents would want her to date. But oddly enough, he does absolutely nothing for Aelin.

Rowan finally texts her back while they’re en route to the bowling alley.

You know you’re stunning. His text makes her grin wildly.

The drive to the bowling alley is short, and soon they’re all piling out of their Uber and into the small dingy alley, which has never been updated. Elide spots Manon right away, and leads them over to her lane, where a bunch of people are huddled at a table with beers and pizza.

Manon hugs Elide, but her eyes narrow when she sees Aelin.

“I brought friends,” Elide says, “I hope that’s okay.”

“I did, too,” Manon says with a frown, and Aelin’s heart soars when she follows Manon’s gaze and it lands on a head of silvery hair making its way toward their table. It’s a perfect coincidence that she accidentally ended up crashing Rowan’s plans. Fate.

She smiles, making eye contact with him. His pine green eyes light up with desire upon seeing her, but he looks away quickly, tension filling his posture as he gets closer.

He drops two beers onto the table in front of them, and Aelin quirks her head in confusion as a pretty blonde brushes against his hand to take it. The blonde smiles at him and bats her eyelashes, thanking him sweetly for the beer. Aelin’s stomach turns.

“This is my cousin, Asterin.” Manon introduces the girl to everyone. Aelin has the urge to throw her arms around Rowan and kiss him, but she can’t with everyone around. Instead, she takes a seat at the table next to him, and tries to greet him.

But Rowan isn’t paying attention to her. His scowling face looks over her shoulder at Sam, who’s taken the seat on the other side of her.

“Sam,” he says with a small nod of his head.

Unfazed, Sam greets everyone at the table with gusto, introducing himself as the new guy, completely unaware to the extreme tension simmering beneath the surface.

“So, are we going to bowl or what?” Elide asks. Rowan stands up from the table quickly and grabs a ball, not looking back at Aelin. Asterin cheers wildly for him from the table, her gold eyes glowing at the handsome man getting ready to play.

There’s only one thing Aelin can conclude. She’s inadvertently crashed Rowan’s date.

~*~*~*~*~

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[raekahwritings]

A Second Life, Finding Redemption (Shinsou x Reader)

Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi x Villain!Reader Rating: Explicit, N*SFW Warning: Angst, Murder, Assassination, Fake!Death, Decapitation, Some Smut Word Count: 8,731 Words A/N: This does not have a tragic ending, I can’t bear to write angst without a happy ending.

Summary: You’re a cute coffee barista that Shinsou has feelings for-- and hopefully he never finds out your real purpose in Japan. You are a villain in pursuit of revenge but you wish you could’ve lived a simple life, that you really were the barista you masqueraded as. If Shinsou knows the truth, he would hate you. Or does he? 

From Me: I’m trying to post this in time for @bnhabookclub​ (Antagonist x Protagonist prompt) and I haven’t had time to proof-read this or beta it so please excuse any mistakes or pacing issues. I hope to re-post at a later point but I definitely wanted this out.

Also, inspirations for this work is from @katsukisprincess, @lady-bakuhoe, @iwvs-on-ao3, @bnhabookclub, @/lemonlordleah-shinzawa, @/marilla-eldriana, @/queensynderella.

 Sometimes, there was no other end in sight. You could rewind the moment a million times and try to find something you missed, but it would always end the same miserable way.

“Shinsou, you should know what people think of us.” You idly sat from the rafters of the room, simply a shadowed silhouette to the brain-washing hero Shinsou Hitoshi. He desperately looked but he was lost through the maze of unconscious people talking all at once. “They will never trust people who can manipulate others.” Numerous voices bounced around the room, making Shinsou’s eyes dart back and forth—were you even here, or was it yet another machination?

“Marionette—You don’t need to do this.” Shinsou tried to tempt you away from the shadows, trying to sift through the ‘dolls’ you had set in place. You knew he would be sorely disappointed. You had already known about his abilities and set countermeasures in place.

Shinsou caught an idle movement above him, letting his capture weapon snake up to the beams while imperceptibly turning on his own voice-changing mechanism—but it was foiled. “Don’t try that. You know I wouldn’t fall for something so obvious.” You backed away from even the shadows, dissipating, away from his empty oaths and reassurances. Away from the ignorant and unaware hero. With a flick of your wrist, you dispelled the strings of your quirk and letting the bodies fall to the floor.

Shinsou tried to make his way through the unconscious victims but it seemed like you had no more desire to speak to him—you soon disappeared in a silent farewell. Your dolls soon fell to the floor, crumpling as their marionette master was gone.

This is fucking creepy. When Shinsou had arrived onto the scene, it was eerie at how doll-like everyone had seemed with their glass-like eyes and lifeless motions. But upon his arrival, they had come to life and stalled the young hero.

“She got away again.” He frustratedly sighed. This wasn’t the first and this wasn’t the last time you escaped… But he was starting to get the hang of your quirk; it seemed you had to be somewhere nearby to manipulate people. Shinsou reached down for a child, relieved to discover they were breathing and no apparent harm. But as he garnered a better look – it didn’t seem as if anyone was harmed here.

This was strange; you had been responsible for the killings of several prominent people. A businessman. A minor government official. A doctor. The most notable was a visiting dignitary. This latest incident invoked a sense of international outrage and a greater calling for your arrest. Your signature calling card was a single severed head amongst immobile witnesses who only remembered a blackened haze. Their loss of memory was surprisingly similar to Shinsou’s own quirk which is why he had been called in. So far, the only clue he found was your spider-like wires.

“Hey, get the crew in here. There’s a lot of unharmed civilians who need assistance.” Shinsou radioed the information in and took one last look to make sure it was safe before back-up reinforcements were to arrive.

Strange. Shinsou tried to muse over this information; no one else aside from your victims was ever hurt. It seemed that you were aiming for something awfully specific. Shinsou didn’t know what though….  

That’s how Shinsou found himself in a cat café, sprawled in a chair, and lost in thought. He was currently on-break from the case since the police were investigating the unconscious victims and the link. So far, they seemed to have found none.

“Hello. Did you want a refill on your coffee?” Shinsou looked over and gave you a slight grin—you were his favorite barista at this cat café. Most places served awful drinks, relying on the kittens to draw people in and shitty service. What a rare find it was to find both adorable kittens, cats, and amazing coffee.  

Here you were, one of the most cheerful people he had ever met. Beautiful? Shinsou wasn’t much for conventional beauty or ‘instagram’ models that seemed to be so ‘in’ nowadays. But when cats were crawling all over you and you bundled them all in your arms in a fit of laughter—yes, he thought you were pretty.

Shinso gave you a grateful smile, especially since a napping kitten seemed to have him rooted to the chair. “That would be wonderful.” You leaned over to take his cold cup and Shinsou politely leaned back. Albeit, even he was a virile male and couldn’t help but to take a lightning-quick look at you bending over and shoving down thoughts of how delectable your ass looked.  

You apparently didn’t notice but you took a look of your own at his face. Of course, he had his darker-than-usual eye bags and you sighed sympathetically. “You look like you’re working harder than usual.” Shinsou didn’t think he looked different…? But fuck yeah, he felt tired. “Why don’t I add an espresso shot? A little bit of milk to make it sweeter?” He was your favorite customer after all. The purple-haired man had become something of a fixture around the café—you wondered if he ever actually slept sometimes. But he was always wonderful with the cats and often over-tipped. It was to the point that you as a barista, had to hide the tip jar and give him a very pointed glare.

You had caught him stuffing fifty dollars once and you had to draw the line; the poor man needed food and you sent him home to buy dinner for himself. Instead, he sheepishly came back with food for you both and had left it for you at the counter.

This was probably the first moment you had fallen in love with the purple-haired sleepy customer that constantly came to your café that you worked at. The owner gave you plentiful shifts because of your coffee skills.

“…. I think you’re the only one to know about my sweet tooth.” Shinsou said sheepishly. You took that as agreement, happily walking over back to the counter.

You filled up the metal tins and efficiently started frothing the milk, snagging the espresso shots, adeptly mixing the syrups and continued. “Hey, hey, I know when someone doesn’t like Americanos.” You gave him a mischievous smile. “I also saw your nose scrunching up and if you had a cattail, it would’ve been stick straight.”

“Ugh, you remember that.” Shinsou face-palmed. He remembered the first time he came in and one of his hero coworkers had ordered it for him; apparently, he had cultivated the image for loving the watery and bitter brew. No, it was because his office had no fucking good coffee and he was forced to drink it to stay awake. Shinsou had bit back any words and stifled the longing he felt for something tasty.

Apparently, you had noticed. Then you had come over, profusely apologizing that you had given him the wrong coffee and given him a specialty drink with no one the wiser. That moment solidified Shinsou’s affinity for this particular store.

“Do you pay attention to all your customers like this?” Shinsou took the new drink with great appreciation; it seemed everything here was good. He had yet to dislike any of your coffee concoctions.

“I try my best.” You said honestly. Shinsou looked around, there were a few people left at this late hour but for the most part, you seemed to be lingering near him. He bit back a stray thought, maybe that you also liked him a bit more than a regular customer, and gave you a small quirk of his lips. Shinsou wasn’t much for smiling but maybe your drinks invoked some kind of magic.

Shinsou hummed with delight. “I noticed. How long do you think you’ll be working around here?”

“Hmmm. I wonder!” You gave a little bit of a laugh, scooping up a yawning kitten and putting it back in their bed. Another customer gathered their things and gave a friendly goodbye.

Shinsou was content to let the comfortable silence reign but he was compelled by his own curiosity. “What would you do if you left?” He could only hope you’d stay… but he hoped you’d do what you want to do. Life tended to take people all over the place.

“Owning my own café would be a dream.” You wiped the empty tables nearby and took a bit more time cleaning than you usually did… Staring down at the table with a furrowed brows and bitterness. It was an expression he’d never seen before because you were always so happy with the customers.

Shinsou looked questioningly at you. “I think you’d be rather good at it. What’s stopping you?” He gestured to the cafe and you gave him a bit of a melancholy smile.

“Life.” You put your hand on your waist and gave him a smile—it didn’t quite reach your eyes. Huh, Shinsou thought. He noticed you had a way about yourself… answering but not saying anything about yourself.

You tapped his messy paperwork. “Probably the same reason you’re here? Why are you inside my café on a Saturday night? You could be ‘living’ it up with all your friends.” You air-quoted the words, giving him an eyebrow raise at his lonesome self.

“Hey, when did this become about me?” Shinsou held his hands up in a ‘I surrender’ gesture. Interesting deflection though. You had smoothly changed the topic and you were rather adept at turning the conversation to others.

But he couldn’t resist having the last word, call it petty of him. “I still think you’d be great at owning your own café.” He muttered— he knew you could hear. But it was something you should hear. He could see your dedication; you had been here unfailingly every weekend and he knew you took over shifts no one else would take.

“You, my dear customer, need to take no for an answer.” You jokingly rapped him on the head with a familiarity that few people showed.

Then you turned around to see someone secretly taking a picture of Shinsou. He had heard the click of the phone but unfortunately, it was all too common. He was going to ignore it but you weren’t. You shot a daggered look at the customer. “Excuse me, we value discretion in this store.” You courteously told them with a steely undertone.

Shinsou… was surprised. “Hey. Thank you for that.” He didn’t realize you noticed. This was a new side to his barista. He had never once seen you other than impeccably friendly. to civilians and heroes alike.

You dismissed his thank-you. “No, that’s my bad. I should be making sure our customers know not to bother you. You need your privacy too.” Your flippant words caused something to click within Shinsou. You weren’t like the others, you knew heroes were people. People who also should be respected, unlike those goddamn paparazzi sell-outs.

Yea, Shinsou liked you. He really liked you, more so because you didn’t seem to give a damn about his hero-fame. So he finally got the courage to ask you—

“Would you want to grab a bite to eat after the café closes?”

You looked back at him, a bit startled. “Me?” Even the kitten, napping in his lap, jumped away at his suddenly terse invitation.

Shinsou was now a bit embarrassed – he wished he was smoother about this. “No pressure. You just work super hard and I really want to treat you for everything you do for me. I know you stay late because I’m here--” Shinsou was rambling. He never rambled. God, you threw him off his game.

“Sure.” There was no harm in accepting his invitation. “You mind if I choose? I know this izakaya with home-made food but it’s a bit out of the way.” Shinsou nodded. The door rang as another customer entered. You gestured to him ‘five minutes’ and rushed off.

Soon enough, you were both at the amazing izakaya and Shinsou swore to himself that he would drag Aizawa here. This place had black garlic ramen and delicious chicken and sides. His mouth was watering from the moment he entered the place. You wasted no time in getting your orders in.

“I take it I picked well?” You were really happy you got to see your favorite, not-a-crush, customer eating with you. Your elbow was on the table, your face leaning on one hand as you watched him demolish the ramen in front of him.

He nodded, his mouth too full otherwise. “Calm down, the food’s not going anywhere.” You leaned over to push his messy locks back and gave him a chiding smile.

Shinsou froze. You froze. You leaned awkwardly back in your seat. “Um, I don’t want you to eat your hair.” You said lamely. Shinsou… leaned in to get another bite, trying to pass this off as a casual moment. You took an awkward sip of your drink. He could see the pink blush at the tip of your ears and he wondered…. Maybe you liked him back too?

The night was over too soon. He wished it could last longer… You both were at the nearby station, ready to part ways.

He had made the first move so you could take a step too. You tugged at his jacket to catch his attention. “If you ever need a ramen buddy, I’ll be happy to keep you company.” You… nervously said. Because what if he didn’t enjoy the night as much as you did?

Shinsou gave a grin as big as a Cheshire-cat smile. “Now I know what to do to pay you back for all those free lattes!”

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

Who knew that random ramen night would lead to café shenanigans between you two?

If anyone were thinking perverted thoughts, they would be disappointed though. Shinsou now helped you to coral mischievous cats and kittens into their cages.

You both had collapsed on the couch after a particularly troublesome kitty had decided to dart every which way and crawl near the coffee beans. It had taken every trick in the book to outsmart this particular kitten.

“Oh god.” You started giggling. “When did a kitten get smart enough to outsmart both of us?” Shinsou started chucking as well. You had to say between fitful of laughter—“You’re a pro-hero and you’re supposed to be smarter than this.”

Shinsou pointed accusingly at you. “I wasn’t alone in this!” You gave him a ‘ohohoho’ laugh as you got up. As a reward for his troubles, you dropped a brown paper bag of pastries onto him to take home. “God, if people saw us, they would’ve thought we were insane.” Chasing the kitten around, scrambling to get it before it escaped to the shelves…

Shinsou meant to get up. He really did. But as he lazily lied on the couch, watching you turn off the coffee machines and the glow of the lamps left a hazily ambient glow… He even shut his eyes for a few moments, relaxing his guard around you… You leaned over him to wake him up…

And then you heard it. The soft, sleepy whisper… “I wish I could see this every day.” He said it before he could think to shut himself up.

Shinsou was so gentle and sweet. You ached for him so much, so much that at those words, you gave in to the temptation. You leaned down to kiss him before he fully woke up. It was chaste, a gentle press of your lips against his.

“I hope you meant that for me and not the kitten?” You teased.

Shinsou’s eyes widened as he woke the fuck up.

Had you overstepped your bounds? Was he not interested? You hesitantly leaned back.

Not to be beaten, Shinsou tugged you down this time. “You don’t get to confess and become all shy, kitten.” His fingers entangled themselves into your hair and he caught your lips with his. He craned his head to lick your lips open, gently requesting permission.

And how quickly you caved, as you crawled into his lap.

You wished you could kiss him forever, Shinsou tasted so sweet— of caramel and sugar— he made you feel so preciously loved. His fingers stroked the nape of your neck, his lips moved down your throat, and his chest met yours as you both breathed heavily.

“I wasn’t hoping for this…” Shinsou whispered. “But I would be lying if I said I didn’t think of this.”

You nodded in a daze. Shinsou leaned forward to cup your breasts in his hands, relishing the feel of your skin against his. He claimed one for his own as he took your hardening nipples into his mouth. You writhed against him as Shinsou took his sweet goddamn time licking both breasts.

You writhed in his lap, feeling the burgeoning erection but Shinsou kept you still. “That isn’t fair…” You whined. You wanted his pants off, you wanted to feel his throbbing length against yourself. But Shinsou merely laughed, letting you suffer through the feel of the maddening cloth barrier. “Are you trying to torture me?” You whined.

“Hm?” Shinsou tugged at your hair, making you arch your chest against his. He took a chance to nip at your throat, giving you just a hint of dominance underneath his nice-guy exterior.

You thrust impatiently against him. “Pay a little attention down here, won't you?” You locked your legs around his hips, bunching your café skirt up, and shoved your wet panties against his tightening pants.

Shinsou nearly groaned, he could swear he felt you throbbing against him. But he did have to concede— there was too much between you two.

“Alright, alright kitten.” He lifted you up from the couch— oh god, you didn’t expect it but his lanky build hid more strength than you realized— and splayed you on the table. What a delicious view. Your lay passively back as he took off his shirt, exposing his toned muscles and inching down his pants. Your eyes didn’t leave his hands for one moment, he had a way of inching his pants down like he was a goddamn stripper.

His cock? You weren’t disappointed when he finally shimmied out of those pants. It was long and curved, already erect at the sight of you. You opened your thighs lewdly and snuck a hand down to rub lightly—

“Kitten, oh no.” Shinsou let his voice drop low, a slight threat to this tone. “You are going to wait patiently for me.” It wasn’t a question. This Shinsou— this wasn’t the awkward, endearing Shinsou that you came to know. This was…

He bent to a knee, looking straight into your soaked panties. You thought he was going to fuck you, not this— you closed your legs but Shinsou wrenched it apart with his hands. “Patient means you get to wait as I get my fill.” What did he mean? You gave him a wide-eyed look, questioning… “Oh kitten, are you embarrassed?” He leaned forward to lick at the wet patch forming. You jerked away but he held you still, teasing you and making you wetter. He could almost taste your slick, the heady damp-heat enticing him. But he wanted to see you beg. He pushed his finger against your cunt, letting you feel his decisive movements through the irritating fabric.

Oh god, it was the first he had touched down there all night.  But he didn’t touch you, you needed the panties off. You needed more. But no man had ever cared for foreplay with you before, you had always been used for their pleasure— you only knew to do what they wanted.

“Wait.” You tried to move away from his heated breaths— “I can handle it. It’s better for you if I just take it all in—“ Shinsou withdrew his fingers, his other hand tightening on your thighs and stopping your movement.

“Kitten. You are wet but you’re not wet enough to handle this.” Shinsou glared at you. Did you make him mad? You didn’t understand.

“It’s not about me though, it's about what feels good for you?” You tried to offer.

It was definitely the wrong words to say. Shinsou was feeling a little baffled and a little incredulous. “What do you mean by that?” He demanded. You… didn’t know what to say. Wasn’t this how it worked? Even more so because Shinsou was so important to you, you should’ve been on your knees for him.

Shinsou didn’t like your silence. “Y/N, who have you been with?” You looked away… Shinsou pinched your thigh in warning, “Let me clarify. I’m not asking who. Did no one take care of you?” He had stopped his ministrations.

“What would anyone ‘take care’ of?” You thought Shinsou wanted to fuck you. This was about him. You honestly didn’t know what he wanted of you. So you tried to cajole him out of his increasing irritation with practiced words, “It’s okay, I’m okay. I’m wet enough for you to just take what you want. Don’t you want this?”

Shinsou looked at you with darkened eyes and finally, finally slid your panties off. “Y/N, I’m not trying to just fuck you with no pleasure. I want you to feel this,” he circled your clit with his calloused fingers. “Feel like you’re wanted.” You felt wetness coming from you, getting wetter and wetter. “Have you hot and needy,” You jerked your entire body as he plunged his entire tongue into your cunt as he licked you— you had never felt this before. No man had ever decided to eat you out there but Shinsou ate like a man determined and starved. It felt like forever, Shinsou just wouldn’t let you go. You felt your entire body go taut and Shinsou squirmed his fingers in to pinch your throbbing clit and you screamed as an orgasm washed over you.

“And have you scream like that.” You weren’t even down from your high as Shinsou thrust his fingers in. He scissored his fingers in there, searching, not letting you rest until he found a spot that made you tear and cry. You tugged at his head futilely and Shinsou gave you his Cheshire-like grin again. He finally crawled up to relish your awed, tear-stained expression but he still didn’t stop.

“Shinsou, just stop. Just fuck me, please.” You implored and pleaded with him. In a way, you were trying to escape a pleasure you had never encountered before. No one had cared enough, no one had ever found this spot within you. Why was he doing this? Why did he care? This made your heart hurt, this made your cunt throb in a rising heat you had never felt before.

“I’m not going to fuck you, not like that,” Shinsou said in a low, raspy murmur. “I’m going to put it in you.” He thrust his fingers in time with his words. “When you’ve come.. a few times. Until I’m satisfied that you’re taken care of.”

Shinsou relentlessly pursued the spot within you while leaving his bite marks all over you, his mind tucking away every detail of your skin and every spot that made you feel sensitive. Until you had squirmed, screaming on breathless climaxes. Until you could no longer beg, beg those selfish words.

He never wanted to hear that this was about himself again.  He waited until your throat was hoarse and your thighs utterly soaking in your release before he inched himself into your luscious warmth.

Then he started an achingly slow pace that had you feeling every ridge of his cock, your tired body heightened in pleasure. Only when did you utter the most delicious little sighs, did he piston his length into you and finally take his climax alongside yours.

*****

At least you were on closing shift the next day. You didn’t have to wake up early, you and Shinsou had messily cleaned up after yourself in the café and you had followed Shinsou to his apartment.

Shinsou didn’t want to be apart from you and had been accompanying you at the café.

“We’ll be closing soon. Do you want me to come over tonight?” You inclined your head towards the last few customers. Shinsou was about to say yes but then an incoming call came again.

“Sorry!” Shinsou cupped his hands over his phone and walked to a corner to take a call.

He heard the familiar creation hero’s voice, “Shinsou! We have a meeting tonight!”  Shinsou realized, oh shit, he was supposed to be meeting with Yaoyorozu tonight. He had enlisted her help for after-hours with the case for Marionette.

You looked curiously over but said nothing. Shinsou still turned away though, sighing. “Yes. Sorry, it slipped my mind but I’ll be home in thirty minutes.” He hung up the phone.

He looked sadly at you. “Work.” You understood his work was important so you nodded. He gathered his stuff but you busied yourself and made several drinks for him to go. “Your co-worker can choose what they want.” You had included muffins, hot tea, a latte, and a coffee.

Shinsou gratefully accepted, a little at a loss for words. You were endearing yourself, more and more, even sending him off with food so he wouldn’t starve. He left the café but not without throwing a look over his shoulder; wondering if you were ever lonely closing or if you were safe.

You noticed him standing outside and made another ‘shoo, shoo’ gesture. Shinsou reluctantly walked away, curling his jacket around himself in the cold night air. Maybe he would take more patrols in your area to make sure you were okay?

Shinsou nodded to himself and decided, that would settle it. At this time, he wouldn’t possibly have known how this would have turned out—

You lay dying on the floor with a small hand reached out to Shinsou. “It was always going to turn out this way… Don’t cry. I don’t deserve it.” The pro-hero lay over your body, his arms forced at his sides as he shoved back his questions, his outrage, wondering how he could’ve ended this differently. He couldn’t even lend a hand to you. You gave him a pained smile despite bleeding out and let your arm fall. “Thank you… for letting me finish this until the end.” He could see the light of your eyes leaving, the blood choking any further words you wanted to say.

It was always going to end this way. It didn’t matter what he did.

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

You saw Shinsou off with a fond smile. A smile you shouldn’t have had; judging by your fellow ‘friend’ who was watching you from the corner of the café.

You leaned in to pick up your so-called friend’s book, thumbing through it to find the loose-leaf sheet you’d been waiting for. “Y/N, are you getting soft for him?” She murmured in a soft voice. You had hoped she wouldn’t notice. You shook your head decisively but she grabbed your arm, looking at you with near-desperate eyes.

“You know that he’s a hero right? If the option came down to it, you will have to choose.”

You shook her off, giving a glare of your own. “No innocents, heroes or no heroes. I’ve accomplished it so far. There’s only one target left.” You scanned the address listed.

“Y/N…” She dug her nails into your skin, tears in her eyes. “You know we have nothing left. This is the last chance to set things straight.”

You leaned your hand reassuringly over hers. “I promise you, nothing, absolutely nothing will stop me.” You looked at the time; noting it was nearly time for you to take over tonight’s operation after the café closed. A customer walked in so the conversation came to a halt.  “The shift is almost done here so why don’t I go and get you a drink?” You sent her off with a drink, waited until closing and bidding goodbye as everyone left.

You let the smiling façade fall and curled your fingers painfully into your palms. A cat came up to you, weaving around your legs and gently comforted you. Cats are uncannily perceptive. You hunched down, picking it up and burying your face into its soft fur.

Shinsou had made you think for a second, you could continue to live this life. To indulge in a second of whimsy, to hold onto this brief and mundane happiness.

“It’s such a stupid dream… so stupid for someone like me.” You felt the rising emotion in your throat, but you dammed back the tears, and shoved the anxiety that threatened to overcome you in your lonely moments.  You loved this place, adored the gentleness of the innocent kittens, and cherished the trivialities of this daily life. A life that was simple. Working, having fun, laughing, maybe having a secret, starry-eyed relationship with a certain sleepy customer.

It was too bad that this was never meant to last; night had fallen, and you needed to finish one last thing before this illusion overtook you.

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

“Yaoyorozu, none of this adds up.” Shinsou frustratedly pushed away the numerous papers surrounding him. All of Marionette’s victims seemed to have no connection, no reason or rhyme as to why she targeted them. But that wasn’t possible; the precision in which she chose her victims should prove she had motive.

Momo sighed, staring at the list again. “Let’s go over what we know, shall we?” She lined the portfolios up. A businessman. A minor government official. A doctor. An international dignitary. They had both been pouring over the victim’s backgrounds but had yet to see a connection. Momo looked at their respective work and occupations, their paths had occasionally crossed but nothing stood out.

Shinsou looked up the families, the nationalities, their political beliefs but none of those stood out either. Except for their… religion? He stared at the church on the dossier for the businessman and doctor. Something was familiar…. But he could not put his finger on it.

“Hey, can you check on the government official and dignitary? Their list of funded causes?” Shinsou frowned. He couldn’t find information on the their religious beliefs; it wasn’t listed because government entities couldn’t publicly pledge allegiance to any religion—lest it be known, and their commitment swayed away from public conviction. But he had sworn there was a familiar name.

Momo scanned the sheets. “Both their records showed they funded a Russian church.” Shinsou tapped the sheets before him. “This doctor is Russian and this businessman had numerous Russian business deals.” He leaned back, thinking…. Then Shinsou pulled up a slightly illegal database, a website he had obtained from one of his informants on the street.

“Don’t look too closely, Yaoyorozu, or you may see things you don’t want to see.” He typed in the church organization, pulling up a number of results. He rapidly keyed in some back-door codes, punching through sensitive data files.

Yaoyoruzu looked at him with lilting eyes, her fingers paused on the paperwork. “You don’t want to ask the police?” Surely, police would be privy to any information they would need.

Shinsou shook his head— “They don’t have enough international information. What I need probably isn’t on official servers.” Regardless of his warnings, Yaoyorozu inched closer and peeked over his shoulder. What had so raptly caught his attention? Shinsou jotted a note on a paper, monologuing to fill his fellow pro-hero in. “As you well know, Russia is one of the worst criminal countries in the world.” He let that sink in. The creation-based hero was informed of the world events—Japan had taken control of their villain society and with All Might, they had issued in one of the most peaceful eras to date. Not to say there wasn’t the League of Villains lurking about. Other countries hadn’t been so lucky. “If you know about Russia, their justice system is highly corrupt and their church and government is known for propagating war crimes.” Yaoyorozu nodded but she wasn’t sure what exactly they were talking about. “And this unique equation of victims makes me think of something really bad.” Shinsou rapidly clicked through the results, not quite finding what he suspected.

He typed in the dignitary’s name, opening an article about his funded endeavors…. “Well, shit.” His tired eyes glazed over the newspaper and article, noting the familiar faces.

Yaoyorozu leaned in and gasped at the contents of the picture. “That’s all four of our victims.” She realized with dawning horror at who they were with. “Shinsou, they couldn’t possibly have….”

Shinsou grimly nodded. “I think so. If I’m right, this last person is the next victim.” He tapped the computer screen and rapidly looked up the captioned woman—“And she lives here in Japan… as a airport customs official.” Shinsou punched in a call to Tsukauchi.

“Hey, I think we found the next victim. Can you send a police escort to them while I fill you in? I’d like to go over and talk to them personally as well.”

-----------

Shinsou was soon driving over, with the police requesting assistance from Tokoyami and Todoroki. Yaoyorozu had teamed up with the police investigators, filling them in on their research.

He met up with Todoroki at the bottom of the apartment building. Was Tokoyami missing? Todoroki answered his question before he could even ask, pointing to the dark night sky and emergency stairwells. The raven bird hero was much more adept at dealing with the situation that Shinsou might be.

“I assume you read up on Marionette?” Todoroki nodded. “Looks like we’re prepared.” Shinsou and Todoroki advanced upwards. They both entered the darkened hallway while Shinsou stared pensively at the eerily silent door of the apartment.  Where were the police escorts? Where were the neighbors?

Both of the pro-heroes had a bad feeling; flinging open the door without warning. Todoroki instinctively put up an ice barrier, deflecting the lethal cut of wires flung at the door. Despite the icy steam and darkness, they could still make out the bloody severed head on the floor and unconscious police officers, lit by the blue light of the computer screen.

You, Marionette, looked back at them in your disguised mask. Your blade ran fresh with blood, still dripping heavily and they realized they must’ve only been minutes too late. Shinsou took a lightning-quick assessment, noting the police were still breathing and unconscious, and again, only the victim looked dead.

“Marionette.” Todoroki stepped in. “You’re under arrest by the authorities of the hero association, for the murders of—”

“Stop.” You let the knife fall and waved away his words. For the first time in all your encounters, you deemed to speak a word. In your real voice. Shinsou knew they had you cornered... but it didn’t make sense. Why? Why had you chosen to stay when you could’ve escaped in the ample few minutes? You didn’t attempt to escape, even as Todoroki froze the only other window over. “It didn’t take you very long this time.” Why did you choose to speak, when you had evaded his abilities so well before? Shinsou and you stared at each other.

Shinsou could’ve taken control but he wanted to hear his suspicions proved wrong. He wanted to believe that the victims… were truly victims. That you, Marionette, was a cruel murderer.

Todoroki faded into silence but you all knew if you made a move, he would not hesitate to freeze you in a split second. With that in mind, he let Shinsou step forward closer to you.

“Marionette, we just want the truth. You told me before, no one would trust us.” Shinsou let the past memory sink in, let its weight fall heavy. “Tell me the truth about St. Magdalene boarding school.”

Your breath hitched at the mention of the school. It was the first, discomposed, emotion he had heard from you in all his encounters.

“Trust? Figures you’d be the one to figure it all out, hm? Shinsou.” The brain-washing hero’s blood ran cold— he recognized that familiar way of speaking. More so, how else would you know his name?   Todoroki now looked confused. You cast off your hair clip, letting the familiar locks fall and crooked your head at him with a sigh.

“It’s not…” Shinsou rasped out. He had caressed those silky locks this morning, pressing a vulnerable kiss to your sleepy face. He could even see the finger-shaped bruises of your passionate interlude— you couldn’t. Please, not you. But you took off the mask, dispelling any hope Shinsou could’ve had. You looked at him, your expression one of martyred determination. “Why?” His voice come out more agonized than he wanted to show, Shinsou died inside at seeing you.

You leaned forward, pulling— Todoroki got ready to deter you with fire but you simply pulled a thumb drive from the computer. The screen flashed with the same information you had withdrawn, slowly panning pictures of innocent girls. If Shinsou knew the truth…. Then he would know what you were about to say. “St. Magdalene is a Russian school from all appearances.” You felt Todoroki’s ice experimentally but made no violent movement and the pro-heroes remained alert. “If you believe the records. But we both know its far more than that?” Todoroki looked at the girl’s pictures with a dawning realization.

Shinsou decided to fill in the gaps. “But it was an operation for human trafficking, especially from Japan. All the victims— no, culprits, had the connections and means to get children through the channels and have them disappear.” You had to give him credit, he got farther than anyone else.

Yaoyorozu had researched the supposed names that had graduated from the school, only to have them disappear from any official records. “Where they went? We haven’t found a connection but the police are working on that.” Shinsou couldn’t find anything more but he was determined to.

You traced the computer screen, tracing the faces you had grown up with and had seen sacrificed, suffered, and mutilated. “I can help you with that. ”

Todoroki shook his head, muttering. “Disappearing means there’s a chance we can help—“ You let out a cruel scoff.

“You’re naive pro-hero.” Your voice dripped with disdain for Todoroki. “Disappearing would’ve been a kinder fate than what we went through. You name it, you got it.” You tapped the screen at one girl. “Bought and sold to the highest bidder, found dead from sordid sex gone wrong. She was dumped like an animal.” You watched as another face flashed on by. “This one, she wasn’t very pretty. Cut up for organs for the nouveau-rich.” You waited for another one, grimacing. “Drug mule; except she was cut up countless times, screaming every time they carved out her innards.” Shinsou could only imagine it but already, he felt sickened. “My sister?” You hesitated at that one. “She was given to the church, probably from some pedophilic fetish— didn’t help that she was crucified and burnt alive as a whore.”

Both pro-heroes wanted for you to lie; otherwise, the consequences of those well-known officials and the longevity of their career meant there had been countless victims over numerous years. It means that countless people had been involved in hiding these atrocities.

You shifted from the computer to walk directly to the brain-washing hero. You turned your emotions to cold steel, willed your sentimentality to die. Right, because it was oh-so-easy. If it had been, you wouldn’t be on this vendetta for revenge. You would’ve been gone to live the life you wanted.

“I will hand this thumb drive to you if you, Shinsou, promise to bring these people to justice.” You gestured to the rolling head beside you. “The organization will be in disarray but what’s left of it, they probably don’t deserve to die.  Just rot the rest of their lives in jail.”

Todoroki regarded you suspicion. “How do we know you’re telling the truth?”

You clapped your hands in a mocking gesture. “I’ve left you not only the names but times, dates, locations, names, and potential future victims. You should be able to work off of that.” How you got that information? Well, it certainly wasn’t through official channels otherwise it would’ve been covered up.

Shinsou was reluctant to let the conversation end. “Why didn’t you just run then?”

You gave a weary sigh. “It’s not like I could’ve continued this forever. How many more bodies would I need to kill? How much longer before a so-called pro-hero ‘arrests’ me? If it's not you, it’ll be a hit on my head. I’ll die without bringing this to light.”

They couldn’t deny it. But you... you gestured to them. “But I’ve heard of you two. You and Deku, you won't abide seeing the system like this.”

You looked world-weary, bone-tired to all the killing you had done. You looked like you had given up. So Shinsou tried to consider a way you could be saved— a way that was right as a pro-hero.

But none of you had time, not as a gunshot rang loud and clear in the room and you lurched, looking down at yourself.

You were bleeding. You were bleeding heavily as you fell forward. Todoroki swore, leaping forward to disarm the weapon as one of the police officers look triumphant.

“What have you done?” Shinsou looked near venomously at the police officer, kneeling forward to catch you.

“No!” You coughed blood up, holding Shinsou back. “It’s not safe for you.” You could feel the taut wire of control fading, your life ebbing with the flow of blood. Your quirk was reacting badly, you weren’t sure if you could keep it in check.

So you kneeled on the floor, your body crumpling. Shinsou looked agonized above you— but you gave him a lackluster smile. You reached out your hand… and looked for no comfort. “You look like you’re gonna cry. I don’t deserve it.” You tossed the thumb drive to him.

Todoroki lay a hand on Shinsou’s shoulder. “We have to call the ambulance… but I’m not sure she’ll make it.” Shinsou wondered how he could’ve ended this differently. Could he have helped you? What if you had come to him?  But none of that would’ve changed how this ended. You had been on a lonely path to vigilante justice.

The fiery streak of pain and bullets was nothing new to you. Neither was bleeding. You know what was new? Seeing someone who actually cared that you were dying.

Paramedics pushed past Shinsou to take Marionette in, others cordoning off the scene with the decapitated body. Tokoyami flew in, having heard everything from outside.

“Shinsou, take a look at the computer.” Everything was well and truly deleted from it, the bios flashing with erased data. Some kind of virus program? Meticulous planning.

Someone brushed by him to examine your wounds… Shinsou’s eyes flickered over to the paramedic.

“Todoroki, can you run this to Yaoyorozu? Make sure I get a copy and to pass one to Aizawa. I want the originals before this moves up to the police and higher-ups.”

“Understood.” They both understood how.. ‘sensitive’ this was. “I’ll protect this on my life.”

***

You woke up, groggily moving and wincing as pain shot through your stomach. You gently laid a hand on the gunshot wound, expecting to see red— but came away to see neat bandages on yourself. Surprising, she’s not usually so thorough.

“I didn’t expect such loving care.” You turned to your friend, expecting to see the informant from the coffee shop. But instead, you saw a purple, messy-haired and raccoon-eyed hero.

One who was smirking at you like you were an idiot.

“What the fuck.” It was the first of your plans that had gone so awry, the brain-washing pro-hero was sitting there as if he was a figment of your imagination. Maybe he was. Maybe your drug-addled brain was hallucinating. So you turned away, scrubbing your face with your hands.

“I’m not disappearing,” Shinsou said helpfully—giving credence that your hallucinations were extremely vivid—never mind that fact you’ve never had any before.

You took a deep, deep breath. “Humor me. How did you find out that I was alive? And if you knew, why aren’t I in jail?”

Shinsou gestured to the medical equipment hooked up to you. “We have mutual friends, for once, in our line of work.” You… didn’t expect that. Your cohort at the coffee shop had promised you an escape route—albeit risky—and you didn’t think to check on the connection. “Turns out you’re not the only one who’s had the idea to fake their death. But it usually needs very specific quirks and connections so here we are.”

You looked down at your bandaged and nearly naked form, sighing. “It was that or just dying on the way here. I didn’t expect to get shot.”

Shinsou scoffed at that. “What did you expect then?”

“I thought Todoroki might try to kill me. Either that, I could try to poison myself. “You threw out suggestions as conversationally as one might discuss the weather. “The better question is, why did you let me live? If you knew what I was up to?”

Shinsou leaned back in his chair, giving you an assessing look. “Your information, as far as we can tell, has panned out to close multiple cases.” So Shinsou knew you hadn’t lied about what you’d told him. About anything you told him. “So I’ve made a case to the Eraser Hero that you be kept alive to supply the police with information.”

You … absorbed that knowledge. “So you want me to be a confidential informant.” You closed your eyes wearily. “From one organization to another, I’m going to be used like a scapegoat.” You were changing hands from the Russian government to Japan’s government and used like their dirty little patsy. “I thought you would be different, pro-hero.”

Shinsou shoved himself to his feet, growling in frustration. “I’m not that much of a fucking low-life—don’t accuse me of that bullshit.” You may have shrunk back a little bit; this was the first time you had to see him angry at you. Honestly, you thought you would never see him again. You’d never face the moment of truth because you’d either be long-dead or long-gone. Here he was with all your secrets laid bare—and he was going to use you like the rest of them.

“You’re under the direct protection and surveillance of me and Eraser Head—we are the heroes who are holding you accountable. We give you the orders; not some fucking government organization.” Shinsou pointed to himself, scowling because of your accusations. You.. were reeling. Because how could he have worked that out?

“I can’t believe that. There’s no possible way you could have that authority. At best, I’ve got life in jail.” You knew how this worked. “At worst? I’m more than dead from Russia. I’ll be lucky if they kill me first.” You had already killed too many… You regretted the innocent you killed. You regretted the path you used to climb to the top. But after that? You could justify every sordid thing you did to get to Japan and to get the culprits responsible. “I know this can’t be true.”

Shinsou could finally get the upper hand here. “And this is where you’re wrong. Aside from a few of us pro-heroes, you’re dead to the world.” He flung down the newspaper at your bed, you shakily took ahold of the articles. You could see the gallant statements of heroes, Shoto and Tsukuyomi having taken down the international villain, Marionette. You were pronounced dead at the scene—inconspicuous pictures of your supposed corpse with no discerning features.

He could see your confusion. “Aizawa and I are handling the rest. You’re getting a different identity; hopefully you like the name Y/N because I’m not even sure that’s your real name.” Shinsou was mildly, oh-so-very-fucking irritated that he didn’t even know your real name. He couldn’t even find this one simple fact about you.

You… couldn’t believe it. If what Shinsou was saying was true…. It was too good to be true. You could finally be free. Whatever they’d want of you, it couldn’t be as bad as the others. You felt warm emotions claw up, the composure you held for so many years crumbling at this possibility ahead of you.

Shinsou sat at the edge of your bed, watching you. Evaluating and gauging you. You were a trained and murderous assassin—but he could see that you fought for good. That you hadn’t lost your humanity. “Y/N… if that’s your name. Listen to me.” He held a hand to your cheek, gently. “We’re going to arrest everyone who’s been involved in this. And when we do, I want you to find peace.” He had been there. The desire for revenge, the desire to shout to the world that they were wrong—it was all-consuming and would burn the entirety of your soul.

“Shinsou…. I’m so tired. So tired.” You finally sobbed out. “I don’t want to kill anyone anymore. I don’t want to lose what’s left of me— Was it just too much to ask for a simple life where I can be happy?” You cried, probably disgustingly into your hands.

“A life of cat cafes and being a barista?” Shinsou ventured to ask. If anything, the words made you cry even harder. You tried to nod between all the hiccupping breaths and tears. You tried to stop, you tried to breathe—but it was so hard. Even as you tried to believe him, the fear that all of this was fake, that this would all be taken away like some cruel dream had you almost hyperventilating.

“Please tell me if this is a lie. If you’re going to send..” You tried to breathe, still losing more oxygen than you were taking in. “… Me to jail, just don’t torture me.” You beseeched him, imploring with your eyes—it was too cruel.

Shinsou could see how desperate you were; a hint of the lost little girl you must’ve been at one point. The girl who probably never had a chance of a childhood, of meeting friends, of growing up and falling love. How did it feel to have that all taken away from you with no choice?

Despite all his logic and rationale screaming at him that this could be the worst decision, that he would be yet another naïve hero you so disdainfully scolded—Shinsou leaned forward to kiss you, to give you the oxygen you deprived yourself of.

You were too shocked to cry more. Shinsou took that chance to give you his own breath, stealing what was left of your panic and just kissing the life out of you. If you thought he was hungry before, Shinsou was stealing what was left of your soul. He eventually lifted his mouth from yours, whispering gently. “If you promise you want to be good, Y/N, that you won’t kill anyone—that if I can believe you, I’ll do my best to save you.”

You gave a watery smile. “I want to be. I want to be someone that can atone for everything I’ve done.”

Shinsou brushed your hair back from your face, mindful of your injuries. “Just atone? Don’t you want a chance to try to be happy?” You… looked up at him.

“Do I deserve to try?” You dared to ask. You dared to even try hope.

“I think you do.” Shinsou murmured.

You hesitantly laced your fingers with his, hoping he wouldn’t pull away. Not that you could blame him if he hated you. “What if I told you… that you made me happy?” You were a little scared to meet his eyes, your gaze flitting nervously between his limp hand and his unreadable expression.

“I would tell you, I’ve never tried dating an assassin but I’d make an exception for you.” Shinsou laced his fingers firmly with yours and gave you another stolen, chaste kiss.

“But you definitely need to heal up before we talk about anything else.”

[lokidrabbles]

A talk of Fidelity (Loki x Reader Oneshot)

After a failed attempt to make him envious, the reader finds out of Loki’s past involved with the Goddess of Fidelity.

Note: This is a little lengthy, however I hope this is as close to gender neutral as it can be!

As usual, you found the Asgardian prince making himself at home in your kitchen, his nose deep into some archaic textbook and a mug of some hot drink beside him on your dining table. You noted Loki must have probably rummaged through your cupboards in search of something to munch or sip on, purposefully looking for whatever type of tea you had picked up during your last shopping trip. You had grown to become very familiar with this type of setting and even began to look a little forward to it at the end of your workday. Loki (at least you assumed) would wait for you to arrive to your small abode, chiming in on your musings from the day, whatever drama had happened between your coworkers, or how much you had been craving some sort of sweet. Ever so often, Loki would offer some type of commentary or disclosure on how humans, or Midgardians, had such an unusual way to go about their day.

Today, however, you were understandably curious at how Loki would react to your a certain account on your way home from work, and so, you jumped right into the conversation piece unannounced.

“You won’t believe what just happened to me on my way home.”

You rang in quite loudly, placing your belongings on the kitchen counter. Loki, a a tad irritated you had disrupted his focus with such an entrance, gently closed his literature, his eyes narrowed on you.

“Pray tell us.”

You gingerly took a seat next to him on the table, a playful grin displayed on your face.

“Guess.”

“No.”

“Okay, fine I’ll tell you!” You inched in closer towards him, wanting to explore what possible way Loki would react to this. There was nothing exactly ‘official’ between the two of you, but, you figured the ongoing domesticity indicated some sort of relationship. And somewhere within your gut, you had a notion he’d be the jealous type.

Loki nodded quickly towards you, his arms crossed over his chest. “(Y/N), get on with it.”

“I ran into my ex! Can you believe it?” You whispered with some weird excitement in your voice.

Loki remained quiet for a bit, awaiting for you to offer more context towards the news. He shook his head and gestured at you. “Do you wish for me to maim him or something of the sort? You’ve lost me for a bit.”

“What? No!” You threw your hands up in the air, visibly surprised at his nonchalant approach to stabbing people. Knowing Loki for quite a while provided you with some understanding of the way he would often like to resolve issues as such. And you could not allow him to freely roam the city and potentially harm someone. Again.

“What do you want me to do with this information then?”

You sputtered. “Don’t you want to know what we talked about?”

“I have a hunch I’m going to hear about it regardless.”

You clasped your hands together eagerly. “Well, he asked if I was seeing anyone. Obviously, he was probably insinuating I’d be free tonight or something of the sort.”

Loki nodded attentively, taking a quick sip of his tea.

“Or-.” You paused briefly. “Maybe they actually think I’m still single or something. But anyways, they did ask me for my current number so we could catch up sometime. Such a weird experience. Huh, Loki?

Your eyes were focused on Loki, awaiting for some type of arrogant comment on how you shouldn’t be talking to anyone else who has had this type of history with you. Yes, you were seeking out for some defensive words on his part as it absolutely melted you on the inside.

He yawned.

“You’re out of teabags by the way.”

Your grin immediately dropped to a scowl.

“You suck Loki.” Defeated, you drooped your head onto the table, a pronounced pout on your face. Loki raise an eyebrow at your dramatics, quickly catching on to your intentions.

“Was this your attempt to make me jealous? Quite childish (Y/N), I don’t see the need to do so.”

Loki playfully flicked your lower lip, his own twisting into a sly smirk. He admitted to himself how it was endearing to have you explore this certain feeling within him in an attempt to have some affirmation over his possessiveness. Despite your arguments with him, Loki knew you enjoyed how dominating he would be from time to time.

“I’ve seen you flip out when other guys or girls keep staring at me. Why is this different?” You mumbled, gesturing confusion with your hands.

“Because I know you’re not foolish enough to run back to that rat of your ex-partner, or wanting to be unfaithful.”

“You sound so sure of yourself.” You replied with some contempt.

“Of course, you’ve been blessed with my companionship. Who in their right mind would want to ruin it?”

Loki lifted his chin up with much gusto, absolutely adoring his own stroke of his ego. You stuck your tongue out at him. You hated when he would become so arrogant (and knowing he was damn right about it).

“Being faithful huh?” You lifted yourself back upwards, resting your chin gently on your palm, again, leaning in closer towards him. “Is this something important to you?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“I mean, when you mentioned that, to me it sounds like seeing this as something for the long run.” You explained, motioning your hand towards him and back to you.

“Fidelity is a virtue I do value very closely believe it or not. Is this odd?”

You snorted at how genuine his question sounded. As far as you knew, Loki was actually pretty “faithful” himself. There wouldn’t be a single night out where he wouldn’t receive unwarranted attention from others despite it being very clear he was there with you. Both men and women would literally throw themselves at him with deplorable attempts to flirt, buy him a drink or attempt to obtain his number (luckily he was still very technology challenged). Your quick instinct was to assume Loki would absolutely revel in the attention, however, he was quite tame when encountering this. Actually, to be fair, Loki was the most respectful person in this aspect, as he immediately shoots down anyone else attempting to woo him away from you. Something you never really experienced before.

“It’s not odd. However, you never struck me as the long term commitment type if we’re being honest here.”

Loki softly hummed, leaning back gently at the back of his chair.

“Maybe. That is something I would have considered a long time ago. I have been faithful to others before however.”

Your brain stopped functioning for a hot second.

“Wait, you actually dated someone in the past?” Honestly, the fact did not surprise you at much. You didn’t need to be reminded of the matter of Loki being over a thousand years old and probably being knowing more people than you ever will in your lifespan. Surely, somewhere within the entirely of his lifetime, he would have a partner of sort. Perhaps even more than you could count. You suddenly realized you were probably dating history’s biggest man whore.

Loki placed both of his palms together, looking up in deep contemplation, trying to draw far back from within his memory.

“Dated? Well, yes I suppose that’s the best way to refer to being betrothed nowadays.”

Luckily, you weren’t drinking anything of the sorts at the moment, or surely it would have been sprayed out loosely from your lips. Your eyes became wide, your expression largely speaking for your utmost shock at his words.

“Loki, you were engaged?” Your voice was loud and clear.

Loki shot you a confused look. He didn’t expect you to have taken something like this in such an adverse way. It wasn’t particularly an interesting fact to talk about. However, he did slightly enjoy how flushed you had looked, especially how your cheeks turned slightly pink.

“Touchy subject? You’re notably worked up over it. Look how red you’ve gotten.” He was humoring you again.

A sputtering noise came from your lips as you became at a loss for words. This certainly wasn’t being ‘worked’ up. This was genuinely new information for you. Very important information which you assumed would have been brought up at some point. You clasped your hands behind your head, clearly in disbelief as Loki continued to nonchalantly sip at his tea mug, completely unfazed by your current crisis.

“Uh, don’t you think that is an important detail to throw in? Especially to me.” You lowly said through your gritted teeth.  

“Why? It was a few centuries ago. Many, many years before the idea of you was even conceived.” He playfully poked your nose in an attempt to get you to lighten up. No avail, your gaze was still wary and rigid.

Loki, in obvious frustration, lowered his head and let out a pronounced sigh. “(Y/N), please. This is not as big of a situation as your’re believing it is.”

You released your hands, gripping them down at the edge of the table, ready to give him a piece of your mind.

“Hey, don’t get annoyed with me Loki. It’s just a tad irksome to just find out about, probably a significant period in your life. Especially as the person who is currently sleeping buck naked next to you.”

“And with this fact alone, you should know this is something you shouldn’t be so upset about. I don’t let just anyone take a gaze at my nude self.”

His brows bumped together in a scowl. “If I tell you, will you please stop interrogating me?” You nodded furiously, scooting your chair even closer to him, completely invading his personal bubble. “Tell me.”

“It was many years ago. I was young, my parents wanted to me to marry nobility, many events transpired in between, and I never wed her. Clear? Honestly, it’s been so long ago, my memory is still a bit hazy with it all.”

“Why, what happened? Details, Loki.” You tapped harshly on the table with your finger. “You can’t just leave out details like that!”

In a flash, Loki quickly gripped your fidgeting hand, immediately halting your agitation towards him. His gaze was narrow and fixed on yours. “Stop. Let me finish.”

You immediately shut your mouth like a scolded child. Loki was a trickster, but even you could tell when he was being stern with you.

“She died. That’s why I never got married.”

A knot formed in your throat. Immediately, you swallowed, and felt it drop down to the pit of your stomach with the weight of a boulder. Loki must have been able to take hint from your pale face, holding your hand very tightly to, once again, assure you everything was fine.

“I don’t understand.” It was all you could spew out.

“She died, it was a while ago, like I said. (Y/N), I’ve told you I don’t like to repeat myself.”

“I mean, I got that, but, how? What happened?”

“Does it matter? She died, and so, my engagement was null and void.”

Silence fell the both of you. You weren’t sure what to make of it. For now, you felt entirely like a pest towards him with how much you poked and prodded and a conversation piece which could have been hugely personal to him. Yet, at the same time you were happy he had told you such an intimate part of his past. Or at least you assumed it must have been something special for him.

You looked up at Loki, biting your lip in shame.

“What was her name?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, noting how your energy had died down along with your inquiry. In all honestly, Loki knew you had absolutely nothing to worry about. But again, you were human, and erratic, and he wanted to make sure you had some peace of mind. “You’re certain you want me to tell you more about her?”

“If you don’t mind.” You said meekly. Truthfully, it was something extremely hard to hear. Who would want to hear about your partner’s first potential life mate, only to hear they passed away abruptly? But you also wanted to demonstrate your personal strength to Loki. Whatever it meant.

Loki reach a hand towards your face, tucking a strand of lose hair behind your ear, slowly trickling his fingers across your check, caressing it gently. A seemingly simple gesture, but you knew exactly what he insinuated through it. Reassurance.

“Sigyn. She was the daughter of a nobleman who had a very prominent relationship with our family. Of course, many noble families would fight among each other to see which daughter would be able to wed into royalty. Quite a dense situation for me once I realized how most Asgardian noblewomen were.”

”Mhm?” ”Self-centered, vain. Not the type to have an engaging conversation with, if you understand what I mean. Luckily, Sigyn was a bit more interesting.”

”Interesting…in a good way?” You cocked your head playfully.

“Of course. She was young, very kind, very humble, but…she was a tad vapid and naive unfortunately.”

“And she got engaged to an arrogant and narcissistic Prince. I wonder who truly got the crappy end of the deal then.”

You attempted to picture a younger Loki within your imagination only utilizing your most recent information and notion you had of the Asgardian, which wasn’t exactly your notion of prince-y qualities.

“Mind you, there were many noblewomen who would have killed to be wed to me. Status, power, among many other qualities.”

You noted to overbearingly confident smile in his face. Like you said, arrogant and narcissistic.

“Tone it down Loki.” You retorted with jest. “Remember you got stuck with me, something faaaar from nobility, so come back down for a bit.”

“And you must remind me so Midgardian.” He arched a sly brow at you, knowing very well he was also pulling your leg. Loki raised himself from his seat, cup in hand, heading over to the sink to politely wash it after raiding your cabinets earlier.

A tug of curiosity continued to pull at you, despite fighting with yourself to stop being so damn nosy. But again, it was always some type of accomplishments to have Loki disclose something this personal towards you.

“As with most Asgardians, how unbelievably beautiful was she?” You began to slightly twiddle your thumbs, hoping it wouldn’t be as bad as you would imagine it to be.

“Most Asgardians? Well yes, she was among the most beautiful women in all of Asgard, worthy enough to be wed to one of the princes.” Loki muttered, continued to rinse out his cup, and drying his hands on a hand towel.

You snorted. “So I probably shouldn’t even fathom comparing myself to a literal goddess.”

Loki chortled. Your ears perked up. Loki never chortled. Your defenses shot up immediately.

“Oh, you are nowhere close to being like Sigyn. Goodness. It’s like…what’s the expression?” Loki turned to you, poking his lips in contemplation. “Comparing apples to…grapes?”

“Oranges, Loki. Apples to oranges. And no, that’s not making me feel any better.” You began to hesitantly tap on the table, shooting an extremely irritated look towards him.  

“Ah yes, oranges. Sigyn belonged to nobility. She had discipline, class, wisdom. And you are-”

“Don’t answer that! Ugh.” You, again, dramatically, drooped your head on the table, feeling that familiar weight over again. Loki rolled his eyes skyward, stepping behind you, patting your head to humor your theatrics.

Your eyes attempted to look behind towards him, slowly raising your head to a more mature position.

“Do you miss her?”

A simple question. Something Loki was able to respond to without any hesitation.

“I did, for a brief period. Time heals however, and I tend to be able move forward. She’s a fond memory now, back when everything seemed much more simpler.”

His last words sent a pang of pain in your chest. You were no stranger to Loki’s recent history and all of the travesties which had befallen him. Hearing him voice some far recognition of how life was, maybe, much happier, indirectly hurt.

“I’m sorry I brought this up. I’m happy you told me about it though.”

Loki leaned over behind you, his sleek arms wrapping around your shoulders in a close embrace, resting his neck on the crook of your neck. You shivered as you felt his soft breath on your bare skin, his lips dangerously close to touching your sensitive neck. You felt him chuckle slightly.

“I was going to say, while Sigyn was the definition of nobility, you are much more interesting.”

“Oh.” You cursed at him for being so damn slick with you. You felt his arms become tighter around you, and you swore you could feel his heartbeat along with yours.

“Perhaps why I have a sickening soft spot for you. You’re nothing like that, you are a completely different experience. You’re a  mess, a fool, a little dimwitted human. But you’re also the most genuine being I’ve ever met.”

You swore your heart was going to jump out of your chest at any moment, feeling Loki’s cool lips give you an endearing peck on your cheek. Your entire body heated up, and you cursed yourself at how ridiculous it must have been for you to have caused such a scene like this.However, you would be lying to yourself if you didn’t absolutely burst with glee at his attention towards you.

“(Y/N).” He whispered coolly into your ear.

“Hmm?” “If you ever tell me you’ve run into your ex-partner again, and you tell me you’ve talked to them again, I will make sure to make them disappear from this timeline. Don’t toy with me like this again.”

And yes, you determined Loki had a deep pang of jealousy over you, much to your dismay.

[morfinwen]

10 Facts: Lauren, Ian, Aidan, Ash, Avery, Nate, and Elarin, please!

Here’s your 70 (!) facts:

10 Facts about Lauren

1. She gets along best with her oldest and youngest brothers. She doesn't not get along with her sisters (sometimes), but their relationship can best be described as tolerance, and her closest brother Justin enjoys provoking her.

2. At one point she wanted to learn the flute, as it promised to be easier to carry around than the guitar, or the piano. Her parents couldn't afford to buy one.

3. She tried running away from home once at age eight, and considered making another attempt at age ten. Ian talked her out of it.

4. Her entire family, including aunts, uncles, cousins, and her older siblings' spouses and children, came to her college graduation. Almost all of them made it to the party her parents threw afterward. She nearly cried.

5. Lauren is always uncomfortable around her nieces and nephews -- she has four or five of them -- but if anyone made them cry, she'd punch that person in the face.

6. Knows more about comic book characters than her comic-loving brother Justin, thanks to hearing Ian talk about them in grade school, all the time. All. The. Time. 

7. Got a few part-time jobs in retail in high school. She hated it, but it meant she had enough money to buy clothes that weren't hand-me-downs or from a thrift store, so she grit her teeth and kept at it.

8. She still got fired twice for losing her temper with a customer.

9. She got started smoking because her dad is an occasional smoker. He got diagnosed with lung cancer a few years ago. It's in remission, but despite multiple attempts, he hasn't managed to quit yet.

10. Her mother's had three miscarriages, Lauren was old enough to know about two of them. It's a strange concept, having a sibling that didn't even live to be born.

10 Facts about Ian

1. He has a decided type: tall, confident blonde women of principle. He's fallen in love more than once, though he tends to get over it fairly quickly.

2. Thanks to his dad's need to travel for work, he has funky little souvenirs from 48 states. Lauren has none, though she actually traveled out of state in childhood more than once, and Ian only did once he was an adult.

3. Ian theorizes his terrible sense of navigation comes from his mother, after a fashion. She's perfectly fine with directions, she just has an abysmal grasp of time. She's forever arriving half an hour to two hours late or early to appointments, and she will either take half or twice as long doing something as she says she will.

4. He has fond memories of almost two weeks with just his dad at home, when his mom was helping her parents out after her dad had surgery. They ate out almost every night, thanks to his dad being a nightmare in the kitchen, and he never went to bed on time.

5. Her terrible sense of time aside, bedtime is sacred to his mother, and she's fanatical about her son eating his vegetables. She doesn't know about those two weeks.

6. He once tried to start a dog-walking business when he was twelve. It was a terrible idea. No dogs were lost, but it was a near thing.

7. He's the only child of his maternal grandparents' only child, so they -- particularly his grandma -- tend to dote on him. They also know nothing about any children other than their daughter, so it’s not as great a thing as it might sound.

8. He has several aunts, uncles, and cousins on his dad's side, but Ian's only met one of his uncles once. He doesn't know why, exactly, but he's picked up that his dad had a rough childhood.

9. He talked Lauren out of her second attempt at running away completely by accident: he thought it sounded really cool, but all his suggestions just made it clear to Lauren how unfun it would actually be.

10. Regularly listens to the top 40 in the car, more to keep abreast of what's popular than because he likes it, though it has introduced him to some songs/artists he enjoys. He always has to turn off the radio if Lauren's riding with him.

10 Facts about Aidan

1. A big factor in his identity crisis was that, growing up, he didn't fully recognize he wasn't human. It's obvious now, of course.

2. Tried to enlist in 1941, after Pearl Harbor. He ... doesn't know if he actually served.

3. For as long as he can remember, he's always had this sense of where his sister is. It makes him wonder if his mother is dead, or something like it, since he's never been able to sense her.

4. Aidan generally gets along with Nate pretty well. This is surprising -- or, maybe not? -- given that Aidan has a really hard time understanding the concept of death.

5. Aidan has a lot of trouble with certain concepts in general, like that other people need more than 4-5 hours sleep, he should really let people know before he disappears for a few weeks, and that rules about not touching personal property don't just apply to the things he wouldn't touch anyway.

6. Given the things he's willing to do, or has done, some people might think he has no sense of dignity. He does, he just doesn't care that much.

7. The second-least accepting of having Q in the house, mostly out of a sense of loyalty to Nate, the least accepting. It had nothing to do with Q personally.

8. Until he met Ash, he'd never met anyone who had any idea what species he was. It seems incredibly obvious in hindsight.

9. Considers himself a lapsed Episcopalian.

10. When he finally went back to his hometown, nearly fifty years after he'd left, there was almost nothing left of it. It left him with a greater sense of loss than anything had before. Which wasn't a lot -- very little makes Aidan sad for very long -- but it was notable.

10 Facts about Ash

1. Ash's mother did not know her father, grew up with three sisters, and her own mother had two sisters and no brothers. She fully intended on having a daughter. Having a son was a surprise, but one she adapted to quite well.

2. Until he helped his great-aunt with managing her finances, Ash didn't really know how money worked. As it is, he knows how to make the numbers come out right, but that's pretty much it.

3. His grandmother laid down the law in his house, and even her adult daughters were careful to follow every mandate. She was fair, but stern.

4. Appearance-wise, he takes after his father more than his mother's side of the family, though judging by his aunt Iris that's where his height comes from.

5. He's not as close to his aunt Lily as he is to his mother or aunt Daisy, but whenever he was having a bad day he'd sit in her parlor and listen to her play the piano.

6. He knows he has a few cousins on his father's side, but he's never met them. His dad never figured out how to explain to his family that he had a son with the woman that did "work" on his truck once a year, so they don't even know he exists.

7. Since he knows how to manage Lanzo, most people assume he knows him well. He doesn't. He really doesn't. Lanzo just listens to Ash more than others for some reason.

8. Ash gives the best hugs. Everyone agrees on this point.

9. It sometimes baffles him that someone as intelligent as Connie can forget to eat or sleep.

10. His aunt Iris taught him to read poetry and monologues/soliloquies from Shakespeare aloud. He doesn't do it often, but if he needs to distract himself or someone else, or in certain other rare circumstances, it's quite effective.

10 Facts about Avery

1. Despite all the negatives associated with Anders being a former Grey Warden, Avery is honestly relieved that it makes it unlikely they will ever have children.

2. Avery thinks of Merrill as a younger sister, Aveline as an older one, can't imagine a better drinking buddy than Isabela, and has a great deal of admiration for Fenris after everything he's been through. That said, every single one of them gets on her nerves sometimes, and there have been moments where she wished she had never met them.

3. There's a moment in the game where Fenris implies that Avery might feel negatively about mages, after one murdered her mother. I actually spun around in the game to see if i could yell talk to him after that -- no such luck. Fenris was sent home immediately afterward, and didn't hear from Avery for two weeks. He came very close to never hearing from her again.

4. She relives memories in her dreams, sometimes pleasant ones, sometimes not. It makes mornings difficult, either way.

5. She's not much of a reader, but even if she was she'd never touch Varric's novels about her. She knows they're dramatized, but the idea still makes her uneasy.

6. Isabela never came back after stealing the Qunari relic. Avery never would have handed her over to the arishok -- she respects them as intelligent beings, but no further -- but given everything that happened after that theft, she's not sure she could have forgiven Isabela for it.

7. Her Chantry attendance is not very good, and gets worse over time. She believes in the Maker and Andraste and all that, but not with any passion.

8. She knows nothing about healing, her bedside manner is lacking (unless all you want is witty comments), and she's nowhere near methodical enough to handle medicines and supplies, but she helps out Anders' clinic in whatever way she can.

9. Cats are obnoxious, aloof, oversized rats that make her nose run and her eyes water, but if things in Kirkwall had been slightly more settled at any point, she would have let Anders have as many as he wanted. That's how much she loves him.

10. Growing up, her younger brother Carver got on her nerves, constantly. Apart from the guilt she feels over his death, her biggest regret is that they were never able to forge a better relationship as adults.

10 Facts about Nate

1. His dad died when he was seven. He has no particular memories of the man.

2. Has contemplated probably more than a dozen careers, mostly as a kid -- action movie star, paleontologist, professional skateboarder, astronaut, etc. Didn't settle on audio engineering until his sophomore year of college.

3. Loves both of his younger siblings, but he always got along better with his sister (María) than his brother (Víctor). She's very much the sweet, friendly type, whereas his brother is much more competitive and rebellious.

4. Low-key resents both his father and stepfather for never really being there for him, his stepfather moreso, since he at least had a choice about the distance he kept.

5. His stepfather is a mage, which is why Nate's a ghost now. It takes extensive contact with the occult for a human to remain as a ghost after death.

6. He loves his mama, but she was always anxious, particularly about raising her children in a big city, and a bit smothering. That's part of the reason he moved away for college.

7. He's never been religious, and during college all his friends were calling themselves atheists so he did too. While he's angry with any god that would let him die so young, if an all-powerful deity spontaneously generated that bus specifically to run him down, that would be preferable to learning there's nothing after death, and that his afterlife means as little as his actual life.

8. Knows a bunch of random trivia from watching Jeopardy with his siblings -- there were always reruns when it was too early to go to bed but too late to be outside.

9. He's always made friends easily, made more evident by his ability to build relationships with everyone in the house even in the midst of post-death depression.

10. He and his friends were extras in a movie once, as it was filming at their school. If it's ever on TV, he makes sure to watch the scene where they're skateboarding in the background.

10 Facts about Elarin

1. Like her parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, and likely even earlier ancestors, she was born in space, on the freighter her parents worked on: her father was a mechanic, her mother worked in security.

2. She had a lot of siblings, older and younger, but she was the only one to be taken by the Jedi.

3. While she never liked being lied to, it wasn't until she learned how much the Jedi had lied to her about who she was that she developed such a hatred for it.

4. People closer than acquaintances can call her Arin. Her childhood nickname was Ella, but only Bastila, Meaghan, and Carth can call her that.

5. She's always viewed orders by authority as "suggestions". It's caused a few problems.

6. Elarin has a very charismatic presence, drawing a lot of attention and winning people over very quickly. She uses it occasionally, but she's never understood why she has it.

7. She's made the attempt more than once, but she's never managed to fully understand why her previous self fell to the dark side. She isn't sure if that's a good or bad thing.

8. While she's brilliant at war strategy, tactics is one of the few things she's neither excellent or terrible at, and during the wars she had to rely on her advisors to help her with them.

9. She can't remember anything about Malak from before, so all she really knows of him is his Darth Malak self. She still feels guilty about her part in that.

10. Because canon is dumb (and not even canon anymore), Elarin did leave after the events of KotOR 1 to investigate things from her past, but she returned not long after the events of KotOR 2. As far as official records are concerned, however, the former Darth Revan never returned from beyond the Outer Rim, fate unknown.

Thanks for asking!