#so i had to cop out and keep their figures mostly w their backs facing to us..

[dreampearls]

scooping up everyones extremely generously kind comments and holding them like little stars

[keilemlucent]

long days for bad people

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~6k

Being a prized, adored possession was far better than you thought it would be.

warnings: light daddy kink (no age play, just the name in mostly jest), spit kink, crying kink, degradation, brief descriptions of blood + violence, kidnapping (consensual?? read a/n), brat taming, light sadomasochism, mind break, praise kink

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here it is, mafia au, villain hawks, dom, brat tamer, soft(?!) hawks. what more could you want? 

there’s briefly described kidnapping at the beginning of the fic but it is reiterated throughout that this is consensual! no yandere/stockholm stuff in this fic. 

i’ve been working on this one for a while and i’m happy to finally share it. hope y’all enjoy!!

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You shouldn’t have fucked around with the League.

God, it was common knowledge in the parts of town and circles you inhabited. Of all criminal syndicates, mobs, to fuck with, the League wasn’t one of them. They were known for their complete cruelty and violent delights. The League had such a reputation due to the fact that they openly left bodies carved up and burnt as they pleased.

But, you were a fucking idiot and got involved anyways.

It was a small loan, Giran almost seemed to scoff when he gave you the cash. You and your almost-stranger of a roommate were just very late on some bills and were going to lose a lot of material items if you didn’t scrounge up at least two paychecks in about three days. 

You swallowed your pride and took the first and easiest loan you could get. That just happened to be with gap-toothed, wide-grinning Giran of the League. He, you knew from what you’d heard, was somewhat fair in matters like yours. 

You had two weeks to pay him back.

...

You didn’t make it in time.

You were close to the amount, notably. You scrounged and clawed your way into getting the cash back. You weren’t much of a pickpocket, but you snagged some odd jobs around the apartment building that you and your roommate were still fortunate enough to keep a room in.

After one particular job, a nasty carpentry gig that you weren’t qualified for, you returned home tired and worn.

Sure, you were a day late on payment. But with this last gig, you were so close. The League would have to pity two, stupid, stupid young girls?

They didn’t, you realized, as you stepped into your apartment.

Your roommate's slain corpse was laying over the arm of your cheap couch, eyes vacant and mouth dripping blood onto the old beige carpet.

You dropped to your knees, horrified and completely stunned.

“You should’ve known better,” it was a hum from across the room, from a figure you didn’t even know was in the room until then. “Really, you’d expect folks to be smarter.”

Your mouth dried as the figure moved from the nighttime shadows, flashing a dazzling smile and ruffling crimson wings.

Hawks.

You’d heard of him, everyone had. Terrifying, fast, precise, and cutthroat. He took orders and didn’t ask questions other than snark. He talked too much, fucked too much. 

“W-wait,” You didn't know why you were pleading, but you had to try, right? “I’m so close, wait—”

Hawks sauntered up to you wielding one of his feather blades, the red of blood mixing with the filaments of his feathers.

He crouched down in front of you, tsking, “I don’t like begging, angel. I’ll make this quick for you. Your friend there?”

Hawks jerked his finger behind to your dead roommate.

“She fought, pleaded, begged, all that normal shit I don’t like hearing when shitheads like you two don’t make payday,” his voice was slow, talking about death like some casual thing. “I’ll make this nice and fast if you don’t run your mouth anymore, how about that?”

You swallowed, nodding.

The small percentage of your brain that was fully functioning figured dying quickly was a much better way to go than whatever the hell had happened to your roommate. There was far too much blood for that to be quick.

Hawks hummed, the tip of his feather blade tipping up your chin so you were forced to meet his gaze. You vaguely heard the pitter-patter of your tears hitting the carpet below. Blood rushed in your ears as you stared death in the face.

Hawks appraised you.

You watched the metaphorical cogs and wheels turning in Hawks’ skull as he looked you up and down before flashing forward, gathering you in his arms and flying from the apartment. 

Your first thought was obvious as you clung to him in the open air:

He’s going to drop you and kill you.

When you screamed, tears growing thicker, he slapped a gloved hand over your mouth, “I’m giving you an out, kid. Trust me. You’ll prefer this over death.”

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 Your new existence was certainly better than death.

If you were ever caught and convicted of any of the illegal things you participated in, you’d be fucked, thrown into prison until you rotted, until you were just dust and bone.

But, until then, you worked for the League.

You had groveled at the feet of their leader, Shigaraki, hands clasped on your lap, claiming your worth, or maybe lack thereof. Not many attachments, not many people who’d miss you, a semi-useful quirk. 

With a boot shoved into your skull, he sneered that you’d be the League’s new errand dog. 

The real reason they accepted you was due to the threatening air Hawks was exuding and the fact that their old ‘errand bitch’ had died the week prior. They needed a new body to act as a civilian and do things that only an unsuspecting-looking ‘civilian’ could. You fit the bill, and Hawks had taken a liking to you.

 Oddly, working for the League was actually pretty okay.

You got your own room. It was small, but you only had to share a bathroom with the somewhat unhinged Himiko, but she was fairly nice once she warmed up to you. Everyone lived in the League’s HQ and went about their business, getting drunk at their bar front each night.

Most of the mess happened at night, but it was important to put on a nice veneer and keep spirits high. Not to mention that no one would dared to fuck with the League, anyways. The cops and federal government had long been paid off due to the resources that the League had acquired for them. 

You felt somewhat untouchable.

A lot of this confidence was due to the fact that you had become Hawks’s... Keigo’s...

‘Songbird’

As he liked to call you, anyway. 

Keigo was the general, loveable annoyance of the League, but his connections were invaluable and his skills were unmatched. Despite how he could grate on people (read: Dabi and Shigaraki), he was respected and feared just as much as everyone else was, if not more so. And being his metaphorical and literal pet had its perks.

Sure, the first time he had you come to his ‘office’ and he fucked you against the window until it was smeared with cum and blood was a bit surprising, but god, if you didn’t fucking love it. Being Keigo’s personal fucktoy came with protection, pleasure, and a surprising amount of genuine attention. The dude was lonely, and so were you. The two of you made a good ‘couple’, if you could even call yourselves that. The sadism he doled out was always counterpointed by affections that did seem genuine. 

Keigo was fond of you, and you of him. Maybe your brush with death had twisted something in your head, to even allow yourself to get close to a man like Keigo, but you couldn’t make yourself care. 

You were comfortable and content. 

...

[bird boss]: hey babe ;^) get to my office in the next thirty minutes 

[you]: what if i don’t

[bird boss]: do u really want to find out

[you]: ...

[you]: im just curious 

[bird boss]: don’t get cheeky songbird 

[you]: u make me wanna u know

[you]: i know it gets you riled up

[bird boss]: tread lightly kid

[you]: oooo i gave you some guff over text

[you]: what’re you gonna do about it?

[bird boss]: use your imagination

[bird boss]: 25 minutes now, songbird

[bird boss]: don’t make this worse for yourself <3

 You set your phone on your cheap duvet, quickly primped yourself to see Keigo. He wasn’t too strict about your appearance but wearing dark clothes and some of the more expensive gifts he’d gotten you over the months he’d been screwing you never hurt. Something about ownership with him always got him hot and bothered. 

You tried to remind yourself frequently that Keigo saw you as some sort of possession, but a possession with feelings.

Meandering through HQ was always a bit daunting, despite your protections. Your skimpy outfit choice and hardly-hidden lingerie made you feel a bit more like an object than you liked too. 

There were hardly hungry mouths around the League, they kept you all fed, but god, were there starving eyes. 

Dabi wolf-whistled as you walked past him through a common room, shouting something about how Keigo was collecting his pound of flesh for the day. Maybe a line or two about being a whore, but that was all flavor at that point. Keigo called you far meaner, more sinful things. And hell, it wasn’t like Keigo hadn’t... shared you on more than one occasion. 

Maybe you were a little fucked up for enjoying your lifestyle to the degree you did, but why not indulge where you could? Life was far shittier scraping paint off old fences and picking up cans to just scrape by. 

Opulence was a breath of fresh air. And if you were Keigo’s fuck toy? Then, god, you were Keigo’s fuck toy.

When you arrived at Keigo’s office, you knocked gently on the door, quickly adjusting your skirt and blouse. 

The door opened, though no one was behind it. Only a single one of Keigo’s feathers allowed you entrance. 

His office seemed daunting and extravagant for a man who did most of his ‘work’ in far-shadier, far-bloodier places. The walls were covered in mirrors and old paintings, something out of vanity and pride, knowing how Keigo saw himself. There were several black leather couches scattered around against walls, some stained by your various... activities. There was a broad desk parallel to a back wall made entirely of windows. 

Night had fallen, leaving the room lit by a few lamps and warm fixtures. 

“Hey, boss,” You hummed as you stepped in, shutting the door behind you just before the lingering scarlet feather flicked the lock on the door.

And the other one.

And the deadbolt.

You swallowed thickly. 

As much as you enjoyed a lot of the perks of your... position, it was also daunting.

Keigo was daunting, all bloody colors, vanity, and hunger. 

He sat behind his desk, wings puffed up, and partially extended over the back of his chair. The desk chair was massive, specifically acquired so that you would have enough room to properly straddle his lap for hours on end if he so wished. 

Keigo idly clicked around on his desktop computer. He leaned slack and back into the chair, legs spread wide and exuding casual confidence that reeked of his own ego. 

Keigo normally wore a mix of black and red, as edgy as it was. He liked to seem clean, hide the stains of sanguine that undoubtedly lingered on him no matter how he tried to cleanse himself. His black slacks were pressed, the seams pristine. The black shirt he wore was rolled up to his elbows, the buttons of his red vest undone as well. His black tie hung half-undone and limp around his neck. His tousled gold hair was mussed as normal, ruffled by his flights. His feathers might’ve needed preening, but you doubted that that was the reason he called you to his office. 

And based on the deep set of his brow and the sickly smile on his lips, he was already on edge and in a mood. 

“Songbird, come over here, will you?” Keigo sat back from his typing, watching you from across the room. He took you in the same way a parched man sucks down red wine, greedily and soon to be fucked. “On my lap.”

You complied, despite your earlier attitude. You padded across the room, going around his desk. 

As you moved to straddle his lap, worn hands gripped your waist. His amber eyes gave you a warning, crinkling at the edges, “Not like that, sweetheart. Do daddy right.”

Oh, so it was one of those moods. 

Maybe you were Keigo’s sexual punching bag so he could exert control on something he could later kiss better and patch up. 

Sure, he was going to fucking ruin you, but part of the fun with him was that the more it hurt, the nicer he was after. And, all things considered, with some of the... other folks the League brought in to satiate its member’s desires, you fared far better. Keigo cared about you, in his own particular way. 

You tried to lean over his lap yourself, but his hands and feathers positioned you perfectly as he wanted. With the tight grip he had on your waist and shoulders, dragging you just as he liked, it was easy to see his need for control. 

Your head hung off of one of his thighs as you squirmed in his lap. His bulge already pressed into your ribs, a wonderful reminder of the reward you’d reap later on. Keigo’s hands gathered your hand to the small of your back, a feather replacing their grip a moment later.

“Sit with me while I finish this shit,” Keigo grumbled, going back to clicking the desktop. His leg bobbed absentmindedly, his free hand rubbing over the curve of your barely-covered ass. “Be a good girl, (Y/N). If you can stand that.”

He laughed under his breath. 

You let your head dangle limply downwards, blood rushing to your cheeks. 

You’d thought you’d be in for more of an ass-kicking, but it appeared Keigo was taking things unusually slow. You knew better than to complain, but kicking up a bit of metaphorical sand couldn’t be that bad, right?

“I dunno,” You hummed, kicking your legs lightly. “I don’t think you like it when I’m a ‘good girl’, daddy.”

“Watch it.” A single, sharp smack to your butt was hardly enough to shut you up, but Keigo did so all the same, rubbing over the covered flesh a moment later, “I’m not in the mood.”

“Are you sure about that?” You wriggled, intentionally pushing up against his growing erection.

His breath stuttered, a smirk pulling at the corners of your lips. The hand on your ass didn’t rear again, rather Keigo kept thumbing smooth circles as he continued to click around on the computer. He might have been actually doing work. Or, he was ignoring you, egging your sass on. 

“If you didn’t want anything, why’d you call me in here?” You asked, way too cheeky for the way Keigo’s body was practically vibrating underneath you. Pissing him off had consequences, of course, but you weren’t in the mood to play ‘good girl’ that day.

“I told you, I want you to sit with me,” Keigo pinched your ass. “But, you’re too mouthy to do just that one thing. You’re usually better than this.”

“Am I?” You played innocent, craning to give him a wide smile. “Hadn’t noticed. What I am noticing, is your already-hard cock, dear.”

“Oh, ‘dear’?!” Keigo paused on the computer. “Cheeky. Cute.” 

Keigo would just dig in more, lean in, before ‘snapping’, if you could call it that.

You gulped as his hand swatted at upper thighs, his nails almost knicking your skin.

“Up and don’t get smart about it.”

Oh, you were going to be remarkably smart about it.

You rose but hardly stayed upright for long. Sliding down to your knees, you pushed at Keigo’s legs, “Wouldn’t you prefer me down here? Just for a treat while you finish your work?”

Keigo clicked his tongue, gaze flickering down to you, “Fine. Behave yourself.”

Yeah, right. You both knew that that wasn’t going to happen. 

You were already tucked underneath his desk, undoing the fly of his pants. 

You pulled his cock from his trousers, pumping his cock to full hardness. Smearing around preek for a bit of extra flare before inching forward.

Wrapping your mouth around Keigo’s dick was somewhat of a feat— he had a decent girth to him, so you usually took the opportunity to warm him (and yourself) up with a bit of tip-kissing and kitten licks.

But, you were feeling bold.

You spit on his dick, a move that normally would have earned you plenty of verbal snark, but anything Keigo could’ve said to you was swallowed as you took his cock down to the back of your throat.

You sucked around it, massaging the vein on the bottom with the flat of your tongue. Drool began to pool at the side of your lips as you let the head bump your throat, gag reflex be damned.

All the while, Keigo had stopped moving above you. The fabric of his trouser balled up in his ringed-fingers as he gazed half-lidded down at you. 

You smiled around his dick, looking up at him innocently as you began to slowly bob your head. His wings fluttered, twitches and air stirring around you. 

Keigo stifled a laugh, a hand tangling in your hair, “All that talk earlier and now you’re treating me to a blowjob without even me having to tell you to? Dove, you’re too much.”

You pulled off of him to reply, “I can only try.”

Before he could reply, you spit on his dick again, and went back to slurping around him.

You held the base of his cock in your hands, twisting and spreading spittle. It almost felt like your actions were for show, but Keigo’s eyes were rolling back in his head all the same.

You smirked.

A drool pool from your mouth, puddling in your lap and soaking your skirt. Not like you weren’t already dripping from the sinful sounds Keigo stopped trying to hold.

“A-ah, that’s it, angel,” Keigo fucked into your mouth with his hold on your hair. “Just like that.”

Your hand rose to play with Keigo’s balls, teasing at the sack as he cried out a high moan above you. 

Considering the performance you were giving, it was unsurprising to feel him tensing above you. You’d been on your knees for him hundreds of times; you’d learned to see the little twitches and puffs of breath he’d give when he’d get close to coming. 

You pulled off his cock with a pop, detangling the hand from your hair in the motion. It was all fast enough that Keigo couldn’t have stopped you in his hazy, pleasure-filled state. 

Based on the look of rapid disbelief he was giving you, your trick had worked well. Knowing Keigo’s... tendencies made you hesitant to push him too much in the past, but for whatever reason, you were feeling stupidly bold. 

Consequences.

“Sorry, daddy,” You wiped at your mouth with the back of your hand. “Didn’t feel like swallowing today.”

Keigo’s disheveled appearance was more than gratifying. Knowing how easily you made him come undone by that point was one of the perks of your position.

His hair was more than ruffled, strands and tufts chaotically curled around his cheeks and ears. There was a bright blush on his face, spreading from his nose to the apples of his cheeks, down his deck. At some point, he’d popped the buttons at the top of his shirt. He was covered in a sheen of sweat, half-panting and based on the darkness in his brow and the far-too peachy smile on his face, Keigo was fucking pissed.

His wings stood on end.

You gulped from below him.

Maybe you pushed your luck too far.

Maybe. 

“You’re playing real cute today, aren’t you songbird?” Keigo didn’t move, but his feathers twitched above him, wings flaring out even farther. “Real fucking cute.”

You were fucked.

Good.

A few feathers flew from Keigo, one snagging at your wrist, wrapping around it, and pulling you up from the desk.

You wobbled as you stood, dragged across the room as Keigo leisurely followed behind you. When you tried to set your own pace, Keigo swatted your ass with a huff, “You never learn, huh? I thought I’d trained you better than this.”

You opened your mouth to spit some dickish retort, but you were cut off as Keigo’s shoved you onto one of the leather couches.

“Don’t.” Keigo’s tone was acidic as he stood over your, wings still flared out. “I told you I wasn’t in the mood for your cute bullshit, dove, and you still decided to test your luck, huh?”

You kneeled on the cushions, sucking down air, shaking with anticipation.

“You don’t feel like swallowing today? That’s fine, I can work with that,” Keigo shrugged easily from above you.

Keigo had an... active sexual imagination, and you could tell by the crook in his lips that he had something devilish planned as retribution.

A sharp slap came down on your cheek, Keigo catching the opposite jaw and keeping you from recoiling too far. You blinked as the pain spread around your skull like licking flames against a frostbitten body. 

You wanted more.

A little grin stretched against your mouth as Keigo rubbed at your cheeks with his thumbs, “Aw, you always get so sweet like this, dove. You can be a good girl if you try, can’t you?” 

His actions carried candor and his words absolute torment. 

Despite how Keigo was trying to goad you into submission, you had a bit of spark left in you. 

Plainly, you spit on him.

The glob of saliva landed on Keigo’s cheek, under his eye.

He blinked at you. 

You continued to smile.

His own expression grew strained.

“Oh, songbird,” Keigo damn near lamented, wiping away the kind gift you’d given him. His voice was smooth without any bit of waver, all of the sexually-charged anger rolling just beneath the veneer. “You’re just being pain slut today, aren’t you?”

You were, absolutely. You could feel your arousal wetting your panties, the heat of the strike from your cheek beginning to boil something in your gut. 

“You just need a bit of special attention today, right? That’s all.” Keigo tsked, fully removing the tie from around his neck. “You just need a little reminder.”

“Reminder of what?” You asked, tilting your head quizzically. 

Keigo flipped you, feathers pushing and bracing you as needed while nimble hands tore off your clothes without reverie.

“Plenty of things, especially with this attitude you’ve got today,” Keigo’s tie looped around your wrists, binding them together at the center of your back. 

“You definitely need a reminder of who’s the boss around here,” Keigo shoved you forward, stomach flush with the back of the couch.

You reeled from the pace of it all, shifting your knees for any bit of stimulation you could get. Keigo’s feathers were slicing and pulling your clothes from your body faster than you could keep track of. It was overwhelming, making your mind swim in the best possible way. You throbbed. 

“Maybe a reminder about who fucking provides for you,” Keigo’s own clothes were shaken off, dropped to the floor and forgotten.

It was true. Keigo always made sure than you were taken care of, in more ways than one. Despite how fast-paced and laid back he could seem, he was always on top of making sure you had more than enough material and immaterial pleasure whether than be in the form of food, fucking, or otherwise.

You yelped as a smack fell across your ass. A feather caught the elastic of your panties, snapping a moment later, leaving you fully bare before him. 

Keigo’s worn hand came to press at your throat and jaw, tilting your head back as he climbed behind you, “Maybe, you need a reminder about who keeps you safe.”

This phrase was softer than the others, a sweet kiss pressing to your cheek and his voice a bit more gentle. It was jarring at the skin still stung from his earlier strike, but you cherished the heat besides. 

Once again, true. The folks in and outside of the League were greedy. There were plenty of unwanted souls that stole glances at Hawks’s prized songbird. There were starved eyes that tore into you whether you were dolled up for Keigo or not. There had been some... close calls, one could say, but Keigo always was there, in the end, unafraid to get his hands dirty. 

“You know what the most important reminder is, dove?” Keigo rolled his hips against you, cock wedging between your thighs.

“N-no,” You stuttered, brain turning gooey as Keigo’s arms snaked around your waist, sharpened nails leaving indents in your hips.

He nosed at your neck, leaving a few love bites in his wake.“‘N-no’, what?” 

“I don’t know,” You leaned back into Keigo’s chest, rubbing your thighs around his cock. 

 “Oh, songbird, you sweet thing,” He chuckled, all teasing and self-indulgent. “I’m the one who makes you feel good.” 

He was so right, wasn’t he?

With the way he’d learned your body over the last few months, he’d had some undeniable pursuit to make you feel the best. 

Keigo was inquisitive by nature. He had kept you on your back for hours while he finger-fucked you, watching every twitch and roll of your hips to figure out just the right ways to break you. He’d kissed and sucked and slapped every inch of you, sussing out the perfect ways to make you writhe and cry for him. 

Sure, you were an absolute terror to him sometimes. Not to mention that Keigo jumping you covered in the blood of that day's targets was as macabre and horrifying as it sounded. 

But, fuck, if he didn’t know how to bring you to ecstasy that fucking ruined you in the best way. 

Keigo got off on watching you shatter for him. It was the reason he’d torn you from that cheap, bloodied apartment in the first place. A kind, naive little morsel that he could play with as he wanted. You didn’t complain. Fuck, you reveled in his attention. You gave it back to him, like the fucked up, semi-divine being could be any more debauched than he already was.

Corruption spreads, but you’d never complain. If being plucked from struggling for pennies to being fucked stupid by a man who could kill you at a moments notice, a man who would kill for you, somehow poisoned you?

You’d die with a bitter taste on your tongue and a smile on your face.

 Keigo rubbed at your clit, nipping at your neck, and rolled his hips greedily. His cock was covered in a mix of your slick and his own preek, easily sliding between plushness of your thighs.

“You love pushing me, acting all tough,” Keigo chastised, clicking his tongue. “I mean it when I say it's cute.”

You don’t have any more quick retorts in you, not when his fingers are down your throat, gagging you as spittle dribbles down your chin onto the leather below. It was sure to leave a mark.

“Behind all that bark and snark, you’re just a good girl, aren’t you?” Keigo punctuated his words with a bite and nip to your neck. “Just needed a reminder, right, dove?”

You whimpered against his fingers at the praise, grinding against Keigo’s touch needily. 

His fingers pushed pinched your tongue, breath curling over the shell of your ear, “What are you?”

You mumbled against his fingers, “A g-good g-girl.”

It was humiliating in the best way. Keigo’s light laugh at your attempt. The way he nuzzled his nose into the sweat at the crook of your shoulder was just aloe on the burn.

“I misspoke, if you can believe that,” Keigo’s cock pulled out from your thighs. “Songbird, you know what I meant to call you?”

You squirmed at the loss, but he was quick to hush you. His fingers left your mouth with a thick trail of spit. 

“You’re my good girl.” 

You melted in his arms.

Falling back against Keigo’s chest, you craned your neck to lock your lips to his. 

Maybe that was it, why all the filth didn’t bother you. Because you had worth. Maybe it was insecurity, or maybe it was self-aware in the face of your lived experience. Before being taken, the life you’d lived made you just a rusty cog in a dying machine. You wouldn’t have amounted to anything, probably. 

But with the League?

You were the prized, beloved consort of an angry god. 

Keigo owned you, body, mind and soul, and you let him. That’s not even to mention how you had him wrapped around your finger. He adored you, under all of it.

Fighting with him was for sport, not blood.

Keigo licked past your lips, pressing his cock to your cunt teasingly. You whined against him, wriggling in his arms.

“What does my good girl want?” Keigo loved making you beg for him, claw for any bit of stimulation. He liked it even better when you were already soft for him.

Stray tears pricked at your eyes, “Y-your cock.”

He pinched the meat of your thigh, shaking his head, “Not good enough. Speak properly, dove. Clear and correctly.”

You swallowed, searching for the words in your own haze.

Your words were willed to be solid.

“I want your cock, daddy.” 

It was just enough.

Keigo pushed forward, the head of his cock already stretching your cunt. Consider the girth of it, the lack of preparation stung and burned more than you would’ve liked, as good as it felt to finally be filled.

Keigo cooed at your soft tears, keeping your face to his with a firm hand on your jaw. He shushed you, far too sweetly while licking the salt from your cheeks, “Relax, angel. Big breaths.”

You nodded, sputtering as he speared into you. Keigo’s free hand went back to toying with your clit, encouraging the tension to drain from your body.

As he bottomed out, you shuddered, falling back into his chest. Keigo’s wings fluttered, twitching in wait. Hot breath fanned over your face, Keigo groaning and locking his jaw. 

The stimulation was overwhelming. You had expected Keigo to be meaner, considering how mouthy you’d been. 

Yet, it made sense. Keigo had figured out one of the better ways to make you break was softness. 

(Truthfully, it made him crack in the same way, but he’d never tell.)

“Feel that?” He asked, just barely rolling his hips. 

Keigo released your jaw in favor of wrapping a hand around the front of your throat, tugging you as close he could manage.

“Uh-huh,” You panted. 

You could, the kiss of his cock head against your cervix was almost uncomfortable. The delicious pressure and sensitivity already had you reeling in his arms, unsteady and wanting.

“I fill you up so good, don’t I?” Keigo praised his own ego, his cock, but he wasn’t wrong. The curve of his cock rubbed against all the right spots. He stretched you just right, the burn ebbing away into a need for more, more—

“Please, Keigo—” You gasped. Your legs shook as Keigo slammed into you, shoving you forward and into the wall.

His pace was brutal. Hands and feathers kept your back in a harsh arch as he rearranged your insides to his liking. He was kind enough to keep stroking at your clit, bruising your hips and babbling filthy nothings. 

“I’m the one who makes you feel this good, only me, right, dove?” Keigo growled into your ear with a particularly hard thrust.

You nodded against the wall, aware of the drool slipping down your chin as your mouth lolled open. Your insides were hot like white flames, searing any ability to use coherent speech. 

Keigo snickered at your state. Slowing, he gripped your ass cheeks. You yelped, inside jumping as he pried them apart. You flinched, hole twitching as he spat down, the liquid cool against the flushed skin.

It was little moves like that, Keigo just subtly making your shudder and feel dirty that got you the most fucked up and fucked out.

You pressed back on his cock, panting against the wall and keening. You would’ve spoke, if you could, but anything that you had the ability to say would’ve been torn apart by Keigo’s sharpened, silver tongue. 

“My filthy little dove, huh?” Keigo sneered, watching you try to bounce on his cock the best you could. “Such a glutton when you get broken down like this, needy whore.”

The pleasure of Keigo’s cock tearing up your insides was all you could focus on through the fog of your mind, desperate and wanting and greedy.

“Y-your,” You corrected, the words bubbling from your lips, disjointed and messy. “Yours.”

Keigo may have been avian, but he purred like a damn cat at your admission. He held you like a possession, cock throbbing as he fucked you just right. 

“God, you’re sweet, angel,” He nipped at your jaw before wrapping his hand around your throat. “Even all fucked up, you know who you belong to so well, don’t you?”

You nodded, rolling your hips back. 

Keigo must’ve taken pity on you, squeezing at the sides of your neck. Cruel as he could be, he must’ve noticed the way your thighs and knees trembled against the leather. Keigo knew the cloud in your eyes well— how to get you hazy and how to fuck you perfectly through the fog.

He fucked back into your dripping cunt, pace harder and faster than before. You were helpless to do anything other than fall forward into the wall, cheek squished against the scarlet. 

“Who’s brat are you?” Keigo squeezed a bit harder at your neck as you swallowed against his palm.

“Y-yours—!” You squeaked out, mind going numb from the stimulation and pressure.

A wicked sneer curled against your ear as Keigo’s movements grew sloppier. His tongue lolled over your shoulder, messy kisses and slobbery bites and marks left in his wake. He was close, but you weren’t far off easier.

“Little bird,” It was sweeter, closer and hotter. “Can you come for me? Come all over my cock?”

You nodded.

“Not good enough.” Keigo bit down, nearly breaking the fragile skin of your neck. “You know I like words, angel.”

You gave him words, plenty of them. 

Nearly incoherent pleads and cries poured from your bruised lips as Keigo pounded into you. Each blabbering wail was met with Keigo groans and grunts, condescending little phrases spitting over you without release.

Your lack of leverage and use of your arms made you thumping against the couch and wall, vision darkening on the edges as the pressure in your gut and the hold on your throat remained. 

You were breaking in his arms, tears rolling down your cheeks as you held yourself from cresting. The exertion of it all was taking its toll, legs jellied and chest beading with sweat. 

Keigo sensed it, shifting his hips to hit the spongy spot in your cunt, “Come, dove.”

You let go.

A sob shattered in your throat as your climax crashed through you. Keigo released your throat, holding you by your bound arms as he bottomed out. His own harsh cry panged against yours as he stuffed you full. 

Surprisingly gently, he rocked his hips against your own, letting the ambient throb of your cunt milk him dry.

You came down, rolling and spinning as you sucked down air a bit too fast. Keigo panted behind you, though the sound seemed dull.

The pressure from your wrists released, soft thumbs rubbing at where the fabric had bitten into your forearms, “Hey, angel, you with me?”

You could only nod weakly, exhaustion and aches creeping in. 

Keigo repositioned the two of you, setting himself against the arm of the couch, wings up free to drape and splay over the floor. He dragged you with him, pulling you to lay on his chest. The stickiness of his spunk, your slick, and general sweatiness might’ve been uncomfortable, but you weren’t quite lucid enough to care.

“How are you feeling? Still feeling a little mouthy?” Keigo teased, already knowing your answer. 

You muffled a groan against his chest, shaking your head against the sweat of his chest. 

“Awww,” Keigo chuckled, fingers brushing over your cheeks, “Is my dove a little fucked out?”

“Keeeigo, b-be nice.”

Your voice broke, parched.

Keigo snorted, pressing a kiss to the side of your forehead, “I guess I can manage that. Just for you, though. Can’t let the others see me get all soft.”

You wouldn’t; seeing Keigo warm and gooey, both of you mutually fucked-out, was a pleasure only you got to indulge in. And you loved every moment of it. 

++++++++++++

taglist: @sinclairsamess (msg me if you’d like to be on it!)

ko-fi

[waynedunlaptheorgandonor]

watched s11ep1

i will provide you with a quick review before i disappear back into the ether of twd avoidance

lots of spoilers under the cut. also i wrote way too much and i worked all night and haven’t slept so i didn’t bother to reread literally any of it, so it might be completely nonsensical, tho if you don’t expect that from me by this point idk whose blog you’ve been reading

enjoy:

hokay, first off, i’ll start by saying that i enjoyed it more than i expected to. i’ve been avoiding any sort of discussion about stuff, but my google algorithm is so fucked at this point that i still get recommended articles and stuff every now and then, so i was already pretty aware of what i was walking into, and was expecting it to be eh, but actually i prob enjoyed it more than i enjoyed the finale

(don’t get too excited tho, the finale was rly boring lmfao)

anyway

episode starts off with a tense scouting mission

it takes .005 seconds into the episode for caryl to exchange a look of longing, establishing that they are still having weird conflict and are both too fucking stubborn to do anything about it even tho they hate it desperately

i imagine that will continue for a while

rosita, kelly, carol, maggie, what’s her face with the bad hair, and lydia (i think that’s everyone?) lower down to some army bunker or something, where a bunch of walkers are taking a snooze, and the girls are very respectful of walker naptime, and do their best not to wake them up

obviously they eventually wake up, but i’ll get to that in a sec

as they’re tiptoeing through the walker tulips, there’s this split second where carol spots a machine gun, and looks at maggie with a face like, “can i plzzzz, i am mad horny for that machine gun,” but maggie tells her no. (i 110% expected her to defy orders and accidentally wake up all the walkers, but she actually behaved herself for once. well. mostly)

never fear, tho, after the girl gang collects a bunch of MREs they go back to wait for the dudes waiting up top to pull them up, and bc men ruin everything, one of the ropes break, and daryl catches it before it falls, but then a slow motion drop of blood falls on a walker’s face, and just like that, walker naptime is over, and carol uses her bow and arrow for two seconds before she is like “fuck this” and whips out the machine gun

yes, she is super hot using it

yes, daryl watches her do it

anyway, all the other girls get rescued, and carol is about to be pulled up, but bc she is a #girlboss, she first makes a beeline for one more crate full of MREs. daryl covers her while she gets the loot, and when she gets back up top they have another charged moment as carol hands him back his knife

just fuck already, jfc

titles!

cut to alexandria where everything is still not smilestimes

BUT, we do get to see uncle daryl run and hug rj and judith (and dog), and FUCKING HERSHEL JR, LIGHT OF MY LIFE is also there

istg, they could not have casted a better child, i a d o r e him

oh, and some friends of maggie’s show up too, idk

cut to a staff meeting where everyone is like, whomp whomp, we’re all gonna starve to death unless we figure out something quick

cue maggie going, “oh, i know where food is, but it requires me to tell you my tragic backstory, in case anyone didn’t watch my bottle episode”

she tells her dramatic backstory about all her friends getting slaughtered by the reapers for no apparent reason, and then she’s like “anyway, let’s go back there!”

no one thinks it’s a great idea, but a group of people decide to go anyway, including daryl and gabriel. rosita is super pissed that gabriel is going, and carol doesn’t go, probably partly bc it’s a shitty fucking idea, and also bc they have to keep caryl apart bc otherwise they’ll fix their problems ahead of schedule and they won’t be able to drag out the needless angst

daryl looks kind of annoyed that carol doesn’t volunteer to go 

bitch, i thought you wanted her to stop putting herself in the line of fire! make up your damn mind!

moving on

cut to a thunderstorm, where, if you look closely, you’ll notice daryl is wearing the STUPIDEST hat i’ve ever seen. just get an umbrella, jfc

for some reason negan is with them, bc ig he knows his way around washington dc, and no one in six years has bothered to figure out how to get around the city and/or get a map, and he is like “hey guys, maybe we shouldn’t try to walk in this fucking hurricane,” and everyone is like “FUCK YOU NEGAN, YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS OF US!!!” 

this will be a common occurrence 

but eventually daryl is even like “actually, it’s rly unpleasant out here, and my hat is mad stupid, can we go inside plz?”

so they go inside an old metro station, which is actually a rly cool cinematic choice. i rly like the idea, and they executed it rly well

speaking of executions

there are some fucking RULL CREEPY walkers. idk why they bothered me so badly, but they were what they at first assumed were corpses wrapped up in tarps, but turns out none of them had been properly put down, so they go through killing these rotted bodies that had supposedly been there since The Fall, and it’s very gross and cool

this entire time, btw, negan is like “hey, i know i’m a shitty person, but i have some rational arguments about why we shouldn’t be doing this right now,” and everyone is like, “FUCK YOU NEGAN, YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS OF US!!!” and he’s just like “god fucking damnit”

(i forgot to mention that at one point, when they’re headed into the metro station, negan is trying to warn ppl of the potential danger, and everyone is ignoring him, and he tries to talk to daryl, and daryl is like “fuck you, you think we’re BUDDIES?” and negan is like “oh, ok, so you’re gonna be like that too? fanfreakingtastic” and it’s very funny)

anyway. a fat monster zombie escapes its tarp at one point, and tries to eat some npc, and negan saves him, again is like “hey, anyone else realize that this is a FUCKING BAD PLAN?”, and everyone is like “we don’t care, you’re still shitty and we’re not listening to you, and you don’t actually care about random npc i would literally not be able to pick out in a lineup bc his face is so generic, you’re not the boss of us!!!”

it’s at this point that negan finally is like, “why am i even here? bc i know how to get around washington dc? do none of you have a map?” and i was like, “right?! that’s what i said!” 

it’s then revealed that maggie only brought negan along to murder him under the guise of “oops, he got hurt in the line of duty, it wasn’t my fault,” and daryl has this look on his face that says, “i seriously need to stop hanging out with lethal women bent on revenge bc it’s gonna give me high blood pressure,” and maggie has a badass moment where she points a gun she has for some reason at negan and is like “i have like, one shred of human compassion left inside of me, and if you keep pushing me i will fucking kill you without a second thought, so shut the hell up”

(in her defense, negan had just dropped glenn’s name to purposely antagonize her, which was rude as hell)

(for the record, i’m completely on maggie’s side here, but negan still is right that trapping themselves in a metro station is a bad call)

anyway, moving away from that briefly

i think this jump cut happens sooner, i don’t actually remember, but whatever who cares, point is, we get to the part of the show that actually matters, and that’s anything involving my love, juanita “princess” sanchez

and also eugene, yumiko, and ezekiel

they are being asked increasingly invasive questions by commonwealth ppl, some of which i wish they actually would of answered (what do they use to wipe their asses with?? surely toilet paper has long since become extinct)

zeke, who is so much more tolerable as a character now that he’s not larping as a king, has this incredibly weird and sort of sexually charged moment with a dude in an orange stormtrooper costume, where he’s like, “i bet you were an asshole cop back before The Fall, you stupid fascist, #fuckthepolice, mb literally? idk, this moment has a lot of pent up aggression that could easily translate to hate sex, it might just be the intense eye contact, but w/e, let’s just move along,” and then he has a coughing fit to remind the audience that he’s currently dying of cancer, and orange stormtrooper is like “lolz, loser, drink some water you dumb piece of shit”

cut to the wholesome foursome sitting at a picnic table in a guarded courtyard eating gruel, and yumkio, who finally has a personality, and princess are like “hey, this place fucking sucks, can we leave?” and zeke is like, “yeah, i met this orange stormtrooper who i think might be dtf and/or murder, so we should probably bounce”

but eugene is like, “but i want some hot stephanie ass, and also some bullshit excuse about how mb commonewealth will save alexandria” which, they left before things went super downhill, right? idr. it was after hilltop fell, but they don’t know alexandria got fucked either, if i recall? w/e, not important

two seconds after he says this, they talk to some people who are like “we’ve been here for four months, or maybe it’s been nine, i don’t actually remember, i’ve stopped processing the passage of time,” and the wholesome foursome takes this as a bad sign, tho that’s just the life i’ve lived as a night worker during a pandemic, so i was like #mood

but then they watch some guy get dragged away screaming to get “reprocessed” and eugene is like “ok, nvm, let’s bounce”

(my theory on what “reprocessing” is, is that they’re stuck in a room and have to watch hours and hours of customer service training videos on vhs from the 90s)

i definitely got my jump cut scenes mixed up bc i think the negan accusing maggie of a murder plot thing happened in between this scene and then the next commonwealth scene, but w/e, i’ll just finish what happens in the commonwealth arch

the wholesome foursome are trying to hatch a plan to escape, except princess, my love, is distracted watching some stormtroopers flirt, and the other three are like “wtf, dude, how can you even tell any of them apart?” and princess then tells them every stormtroopers backstory bc she is brilliant and pays rly close attention to shit, and the other three are like, “this is useful information, thank you for being an insane person”

their plan involves yumiko and eugene dressing up as stormtroopers and leading princess and zeke out of the place, which works fine actually, except on their way out they come across the Depressing Wall of Probably Mostly Dead Missing Loved Ones

they’re about to leave, when princess is like, “wait, yumiko, you’re on here, that’s weird huh?”

sure enough, yumiko  is on the wall, with a note from ig her sister 

the scene ends with yumiko going, “guys...i can’t leave...i have tragic backstory to unveil”

tragic backstory to be continued ig

back in murder metro town, npc and some other npc have stolen all the supplies, there’s a train blocking the track, and a horde of walkers are coming towards them, so things are not going fantastic

they horde is too big to take down, so they start to climb on top of the train car to get away

but dog runs away!

and daryl, being every pet owner ever, is like “gotta go get my dog, guys, try not to get killed while i’m gone, c u soon!” and he ducks under the train and disappears

#priorities

the episode ends with maggie climbing up the train car but getting grabbed by a walker and dangling off the edge, and negan is there and they have a lion king moment where maggie is like, “scar! help me!” and negan is like “long live the king, bitch” and walks away into the shadows, leaving maggie to a potential death

which, while i know isn’t actually going to happen, would be a really fucking funny move on the writers’ part

like, “look, lauren’s back! and now she’s dead, bet you didn’t expect that!”

anyway

my assumption is negan will actually end up helping her up or something, continuing his ambiguous morality bullshit that actually isn’t ambiguous bc he BEAT GLENN TO DEATH WITH A FUCKING BAT WRAPPED IN BARBED WIRE IN FRONT OF HIS PREGNANT WIFE

the maggie/negan arch is kind of dumb, but whatevs, i’ll tolerate it, as long as my boy glenn gets justice in the end

anyway, cue credits!

final assessment: good episode. i’m much more interested in commonwealth than the reapers, tho i am hoping that daryl’s personality-less ex turns out to be a monster killing machine with no conscience, that’ll be fun. princess is a gift from god. hershel jr needs his own tv show. needs more carol (and caryl)

the end! going back into my walking dead free chamber! see you next episode!

-diz

[bloodbenderz]

Can I ask what your season 1 Lok reboot looks like?

this is about 3k words i checked lmfao dont say i didnt warn u

a key part of the whole thing is that korra gets way more perspectives and more experiences representative of like, normal people in republic city bc i think something that really defined what a good avatar aang was was how many people he met and got to know and how he didnt exclusively or even mostly associate w cops and bureaucrats and leaders. so mako and bolin. well first of all their backstories are a little more fleshed out and we get a less black and white view of the “triads” (lol) and mako and bolin’s experiences w them. cuz the show very much does the whole thing of like Criminals Bad but dont worry even tho mako and bolin did commit crimes theyre not Criminals!! so just a little more nuance on the alleged gang problem and the poverty in the city

korra does start out very naive w very black and white ideas (ex. “you guys are CRIMINALS?”) i think a really good way of developing her away from her sheltered naive worldview is putting her in whats clearly an incredibly complicated city w an absolute cesspool of political conflicts, ethnic tensions, the lasting effects of colonization, etc and having her try and understand the needs of “the people” in a more complicated way than “i have to save the good guys from the bad guys” ykwim? and i think the absolute WORST way to do that is what they did. bc we get mako and bolin who could contribute genuinely compelling thematic elements to the story: one parent who was indigenous and one who was from a colonizer background in the decades directly following the end of the war, kids who grew up in poverty apparently without any familial support, and who now are trying to be “respectable” members of society (especially mako). and then most of that is pretty much tossed aside bc asami swoops in w her capitalist dad and her piles of money and the class issue is just never talked about again.

so the way i’d fix all that is like. introducing more, like, normal people. some nonbenders, more workers, more immigrants, etc, to show what daily life is actually like for people. because. we dont know! we dont have any context about whether the nonbender oppression thing is actually an issue bc we dont KNOW any nonbenders with normal lives! and spoiler: the nonbender oppression thing is not an issue. bc it doesnt make historical sense. lok is set 7 decades after the end of the war. that is not by ANY stretch of the imagination long enough to heal from the scars of imperialism, ESPECIALLY not when lok is also set in a settler colonial state. like that fact should have featured PROMINENTLY in the political and social setting! realistically, nonbenders arent an oppressed class, earth and water nation people are, regardless of bending status! as in all settler colonial states, the colonizers and their descendants (in this case fire nation people) retain most of the financial and political capital, leaving the colonized and racialized immigrants (in this case earth kingdom and water tribe people respectively) generally impoverished and politically suppressed. like aside from the fact that theres no way toph would have become a cop, it’s so ridiculous to think that an established privileged class of fire nation colonizers would EVER accept being policed by earthbenders!

imagine how much more nuanced and interesting it would be to set republic city as a remnant of a colonial past still fraught w the violence and tension that colonialism and the associated ideology imposed?? instead of some vague ideas of criminal who wear 1920s outfits and harass shopkeepers think about why extralegal and violent groups like that might form! earth kingdom people trying to push for the reclamation of their land? ethnic groups protecting themselves against corrupt cops? ESPECIALLY w the history that the fire nation has of SPECIFICALLY jailing and killing earthbenders and waterbenders BECAUSE of the potential they have to resist against fire nation imperialism like it just makes no sense at all that earthbenders would be privileged on land that, 70 years ago, they would have been imprisoned on! like these various paramilitary groups falling along these different ideological or ethnic lines, fire nation or earth kingdom or water tribe, pro colonization or anti colonization, pro cop or anti cop, pro immigrant or anti immigrant, and then you juxtapose that w depictions of a govt thats failing to keep this all under control w tenzin trying desperately to keep it together despite the fact that it’s becoming increasingly obvious that the state has no interest in taking the conflicts seriously and would rather just point vague fingers at criminals and gangs? and THEN you bring in korra, who has no idea about any of this and thinks that all its gonna take is kicking some ass every couple days, meeting normal people who offer all kinds of different opinions abt the efficacy of the state and the different violent or nonviolent groups and ideologies clashing in the city and the way all this shit is affecting people’s lives and livelihoods and relationships w other citizens??

theres so much good shit there so many incredible things u could do w that like Where do we go after colonial atrocities? is it possible for a settler colonial state to take revolutionary or indigenous ideas seriously? is liberal reform enough in a state like this? and then all the growth that korra could do going from a simple black and white life about mastering the elements to this messy complicated sociopolitical knot of a city? and all the different kinds of characters u could introduce in this city? like why would u EVER think that the most interesting characters that this story has to offer is a police chief a congressman and a billionaire????

but anyways. that’s what the Setting of my idealized version of lok is. as for the actual plot, it is as follows

it starts out similarly as the show. republic city is MUCH more fraught w political tension and violence and korra knows this but assumes that it’s just a matter of throwing a few gang leaders and corrupt officials in jail. tenzin manages to come see them in the south pole and intends give korra real lessons while he’s there but they receive news of a terrorist attack in republic city only a few days after he gets there so his family has to pack up and leave again.

korra stows away to republic city (katara catches her leaving and gives her blessing im a SUCKER for that moment). she does have a hard time adjusting but she doesn’t do what she did in the show lol the first person she meets in the city is this older woman who works on the docks, directs her to a place where she can eat and gives her a roof to sleep under for the first night. so korra’s first exposure to republic city is just about forming connections w ordinary people like ship workers and a family owned restaurant and people practicing their bending in the park. and by the time she reaches air temple island a day or so later her head is spinning w all this new information and the way that nothing is really what she expected it to be. tenzin gives her his own perspective on everything and pema gives her her own perspective on everything and even those two seem wildly different from all the people she’s already met. and so korra starts to get a kind of outline of the conflicts plaguing the city as extremely complex and a lot more influenced by older ideas of fire nation imperialism and earth kingdom land reclamation than she had any idea about.

mako and bolin are still pro benders but not like. super famous like they are in the show. korra’s picked up a couple friends by now and one of them takes her to a gym where a lot of amateur pro bending (is that an oxymoron? lol) matches happen and thats how she meets mako and bolin and joins their pro bending team. Unfortunately for korra, this gym is run by lin beifong, and also has the distinction of being one of the most notoriously anti settler state organizations in the country. lin beifong is NOT a cop but she runs this gym (and the pro bending league) as a way to offer support to local earth kingdom/water tribe youth, teach self defense skills, a center of community organizing, and sometimes to act as a front to hide revolutionary/combat organizing against the pro fire nation paramilitaries/police force. tenzin is DISTRAUGHT that korra does this and this is where the friction btwn them comes from bc (from tenzin’s perspective) she does things like this without thinking or even fully understanding the context behind them and tenzin will have to deal w the political fallout of the avatar openly aligning herself w a very divisive figure in the community and (from korra’s perspective) tenzin is too unwilling to take sides in a conflict that’s claiming lives and when the state is clearly not taking sufficient steps to protect people well then why the hell shouldnt she align herself w lin beifong, who IS taking steps to protect and support people?

as korra more fully integrates herself into the city and learns more abt how different people think abt everything going on this is where the real exposition abt the equalists begins. they’re a paramilitary group w an ideology thats gaining increasing support among middle/upper class fire nation people, esp nonbenders. on the face theyre abt putting checks on “bender oppression” but really it’s an excuse to persecute and surveil earthbenders waterbenders and airbenders, bc fire nation people have all this leftover fear about benders who arent fire nation Rising Up Against them and these people who r using their Savage Excuse for Bending to terrorize good innocent (fire nation) people. theres all too frequent terrorist attacks that the equalists claim credit for mostly against monuments to earth/water/air nation people and earth/water nation community centers (one like it was the event that forced tenzin back to republic city) but also like the govt doesnt take a lot of these seriously or if they do only a couple people are charged without doing damage to the entire organization

this is also around the time that they meet asami and she becomes part of their friend group. asami likes pro bending but her dad HATES it so she sneaks out to watch matches at lin beifong’s gym (korra says ironically like don’t u know how ~divisive~ that is and asami answers that the only reason its Not divisive is that gyms like beifongs are the only place where nobody recognizes her). and asami alongside korra is also kind of developing a more nuanced perspective on the city that she lives in cuz obviously the only worldview she’s ever been exposed to is her father’s right? and she keeps pushing it off making excuses not to bring mako and bolin and korra around to her house or even not to be seen w them in certain neighborhoods until they call her on it and she���s like Well honestly my dad might do something awful to u! and i dont wanna risk it!

and as time goes on we see more abt asami’s home life like her father’s hyper conservative politics and asami keeps these secrets abt her hobbies and her friends from him but she’s still clearly under his influence and mako bolin and korra r getting increasingly worried abt it cuz like...asami seems to tend to make excuses for him so that she wont have to be drawn into conflict and originally they think its just her being privileged and thats def part of it but the more they find out abt it the more they realize what a tight fucking grip he has on her and the way that like. asami sneaking out once or twice a week is the Only thing she does for herself. and it really starts freaking them out how influential this billionaire is and all the information theyre getting from asami abt what a piece of shit he clearly is. and so that whole plot thing comes about and shows us how deeply embedded these “equalist” ideas are in conservative republic city politics and how much influence theyre actually having in policy making and law enforcement.

asami suffers in the aftermath of this like being forced to truly confront the harm her father is doing both to the city and to herself. and she ends up leaving home when this discovery really breaks. but bc of the deep corruption in govt and police sato isn’t really....dealt with? like this big story breaks and everyones like Oh, My God! Hiroshi Sato Is Funding An Illegal Paramilitary Group! and theres all kinds of inane political discourse about it and he’s arrested but he bails himself out immediately and his finances are examined but he maintains control over them and after a few weeks the gang (bc they Have become close among all this w much less interpersonal drama lol) has to admit that this news story hasnt done what they thought it was going to it hasn’t dealt the equalists a real hit its just given them a very high profile ally

and this is when things really start to ramp up in terms of action like up until now korra’s daily activities are mostly like hanging around in the city w her friends  (which in part entails doing little avatar stuff that people dont feel comfortable going to police with, like Can you help me my ex husband wont pay child support or Please help i got robbed and i really needed that money for rent next month or Help my son keeps skipping school can you talk to him cuz im worried abt him being safe and doing well in school) and pro bending and airbending lessons (which i know ive neglected this part of the story in terms of her whole spiritual/physical conflict but it’s more of a subtle thing like it’s one of tenzin and korra’s more frequent arguments like tenzin says she needs to focus on spirituality and korra asks why she even needs to bc republic city is a sociopolitical problem not a spiritual one) but now the equalist threat seems to really be looming on every level of society like the storyline of equalists preventing pro bending matches happens here and everyones just at a total loss of what to do next. plus increasing and scary rhetoric about tenzin and his family that destroying the last airbenders is necessary to preserving the integrity of the united republic

and so theres the equalist takeover of the city. the people who are mostly resisting this are lin and ragtag group of people who have been resisting colonial rule for a long time (including suyin, who is part of a communist anti colonial community outside the city, because i said so and i think it would be fun), people who have been visiting her gym for years, members of her amateur pro bending league, plus asami and korra and tenzin. korra and tenzin have a sweet moment (bc they do genuinely care abt each other a lot even if their relationship has been marked w a lot of tension and arguing) where tenzin says like you know i think that ive lost focus on the kind of spirituality that might actually help you. korra says what do you mean? and tenzin kind of gestures to where theyre sitting with people buzzing around organizing to take care of innocents and civilians and to fight the equalists and he says this is a kind of spiritual too, isnt it?

and something something plot plot blah blah i havent decided on the details of the plot climax yet but that’s the climax of korra’s character development and what helps her connect w her spiritual side in order to protect the city: the realization that community is its own kind of spirituality. and it kind of represents the real development that i want her to have going from somebody who thinks that the world is divided into criminals and victims and she has to save the victims Into the kind of avatar who understands the people that she’s bound to serve. she becomes an avatar of the people!

and then happy ending lol korra and asami get together lin and tenzin reconcile after years of being at odds the show ends on a hopeful note that the inhabitants of republic city and the united republic as a whole Can move on from the scars of colonialism by reckoning w the remnants of fire nation colonial ideology and reparations to the earth kingdom people whose land this is and destruction of colonial systems that have maintained and enforced colonial violence all these years

[vetlan]

Summary: Nothing says "Impromptu Darkwing Duck Reunion" like being arrested for something a group of lookalikes did, and then being bailed out by a… Darkwing Duck cosplayer? Fanboy? Well, there were odder things that happened in relation to that cursed show.

Characters Present: Megavolt ( Actor ), Quackerjack ( Actor ), Liquidator ( Actor ), Bushroot ( Actor ), Darkwing Duck ( Drake Mallard )

Notes: The Actors are named after the original Voice Actors! Also this isn’t meant to make much sense, I just sat down today and chose violence, and by violence I meant a “short” humor fic based on the idea of the old actors seeing their villain alter-egos on the news. Serisouly how did this turn into writing almost 5k words in one day...

---

Dan Rattus-Sphynx was having a bad day, but not a terrible one. He was stuck in traffic on his way home after a long day at work, thinking on the cold tv-dinner he'd be indulging in while wondering what was causing the hold up -- unfortunately, if he'd been listening to the news on the radio, he would've been tipped off to the one fact that was about to turn his bad day into a terrible one: the old cast of Darkwing Duck was to be brought in for questioning. After Jim Starling's little explosive breakdown, when mirror-perfect images of the old actors started looting and terrorizing the city, the mayor wanted to take no chances.

And maybe then he wouldn't have laughed and asked the cops if they were a fan of his work as Megavolt -- he was pretty sure now, sitting in his cell, that they took that the wrong way.

He was the first to be apprehended.

Next came Michael Peckbell, once known as the actor behind Quackerjack, who was embarrassingly enough, arrested in a clown costume. Dan genuinely tried to hide his snickering as the old clown jingled miserably into the cell, done arguing for his innocence. It is only after he threw a dirty look at Dan that he recognized who he was sharing a cell with, and his annoyance turned to recognition and then confusion, head tilting to the side and making his hat jingle.

"Wait, why are you here?"

"Same reason you are, I guess… There's a warrant for our arrest because some lookalikes decided to rob banks while cosplaying as our old Darkwing Duck roles."

"No, seriously, Dan, why are we here? I was at a brat's blasted birthday party when these BRUTES went and tackled me!" Hands on his hips, Michael didn't look particularly amused as he tapped his foot, and Dan tried his best not to get short with the ex-actor turned party clown.

"Hey, I am serious! It's all they're showing on the news, I got taken while driving home! Wait, shh, do you hear that--" "Oh no, you're not shutting me up--" "I'm serious serious Mike, listen!"

Holding the duck's beak shut, which earned him another dirty look, Dan shuffled them closer to the holding bars so that they could listen to the news from the dingy little tv at the start of the holding cells corridor. Seriously, couldn't they turn the volume up a little? Luckily, as if hearing his silent wish, they do turn the sound up.

"... we interrupt this segment to bring an update on the current string of robberies and break-ins that have been plaguing St. Canard to inform that massive plant growths are starting to block off city exits, we strongly recommend that you resist fleeing the city and instead head home where it is safest -- ah, I am now getting reports of streets being flooded! Again, stay indoors and do not head out until further instructions! Your city's law enforcement is currently working with Darkwing Duck to apprehend the criminals behind this!"

"Oh quack, actual super villains, we're doomed!" A wailing voice can be heard from the front of the police station, paired with a stern: "GET IT TOGETHER, they have Darkwing Duck on the case!" The commotion paired well with the confused and genuinely taken aback look Dan and Mike shared.

"Drkwng dck?!" Mike tries to get through his beak, then realizing Dan was still holding it shut and slapping the hand away. Probably for the best right there, as that exclamation would've been much louder otherwise. "Has the world gone cuckoo? He's fiction! We're fiction! Well, not us, we're not fiction, but the characters we played! They can't be serious, this why we're here? Hah! Give me a break!" The party clown jumps on the cell bars, shaking the door and making a ruckus, refusing to believe a single thing he's heard: "Ha! Ha! Ha! Very funny, now let us out!" Each 'laugh' is punctuated by a vigorous shake and increased irritation, visibly huffing from anger from his beak… and absolutely not helping their case. One policeman dared peek over their way, and he squealed!

(Jeez, what is it with clowns and short tempters?)

"Would you cut that out? You look deranged! Is this what you do at birthday parties?" With a sharp tug at the back of the collar, Dan manages to pry his ex-co-star from the bars, who seemingly immediately deflates and jingles to one of the benches, sitting with his elbows on his knees and his cheeks in his hands, absolutely pouting. "I'm not any happier about this than you are, you know! But it makes sense! Almost! It explains why we couldn't get any work done at the office today, our system kept going down like someone was messing with it!" That earns him a scoff from his current cell companion, and Dan can't help but throw a look in the clown's direction. "What?"

"You, work in an office?" The question can come across as derogative, but there's genuine curiosity there. "I thought you were big into the acting thing, had your big break and everything as a villain or something." A pause. "Well, bigger villain than before."

There Dan pauses, brings up an index finger as if he's going to make a point, then just sighs and practically collapses into a slouch. It has been a while since the last Darkwing Duck meet-up, huh? No wonder Mike was so out of the loop.

"Yes, well, I gave it up. Want to hear a secret?" An earnest jingly nod is his reply. "I was asked to return for the Darkwing Duck remake… reboot… whatever movie they were making, but I just said no. I feel like I got typecast into the 'weasely evil rat' archetype, you know? After a while, I just started to wonder if people were laughing with me or at me. At least you made it work out somehow."

"That's exactly my deal! People kept making me into the laughing stock so I figured I might as well be an actual clown and beat them to the punch. The brats are annoying, but it beats the circus I was at before the show. Keeps me from getting rusty, even if I'm just going through a checklist of party-tricks at this point." From his pout, Mike perks up, banging his fist on the bench to his side before standing up again, seemingly bracing himself for -- ah, he twirls into a handstand, and Dan claps in genuine amazement.

"Wow, you still got it!"

"Eh, it's nothing. Unlike you guys, I had to work with Jim directly, by his rules. No doubles allowed, or I was a puffy-tailed coward. Quackerjack had no real special effects, remember? Just toys and acrobatics to use against Darkwing Duck." He could do it, but admittedly his endurance wasn't what it used to be. Still, to be a bit of a show-off, Mike stays like that for another minute before twirling right side up, trying to shake off the dizziness that came up with it -- only to stumble and be steadied by Dan when the lights in the entire station flicker and a distant rumble shakes the entire street, and suddenly they remember their current predicament. Yeap. Whatever was going on was very real. 

"Hey, cut that out!" Someone calls from the front of the police station, and Dan tries his best not to sound absolutely peeved off when he answers back. "It's not me, you bumbling meatheads!" He genuinely tried.

The silence after that is frustrating and uncomfortable. Meeting up was nice and all, but no one was talking to them, they didn't know if their friends and family were safe, and apparently, the city really was being overtaken by super-powered criminals based on characters they played in a kid's tv-show. So Dan sat on the bench, momentarily stunned by that fact even though he was the one trying to convince Mike it made sense, all the while the clown decided to tire himself out further by continuously jumping up to try and look out the tiny cell window they had.

"Would you STOP your jingling about!?"

The only answer Dan got was a raspberry blown in his direction. Real mature.

---

Tino had made his mind up the moment he caught sight of himself on live tv robbing a bank: he was turning himself in. For one thing, it would immediately prove his innocence because he couldn't be robbing banks if he was in captivity, and then he'd hopefully be safe from these super-powered evildoers! Alright, so, well, his initial plan was to flee the city, but then his green lookalike decided to go and BLOCK every exit to St. Canard just as he was trying to drive away. It was almost impressive, really, to see what a bigger budget could have gotten them back in the good old days, but it was mostly terrifying that the guy behind these massive green growths was out there. W-w-what if these copycats had some sort of personal vendetta against the originals?! He wasn't sure why they would, but he wasn't taking any chances! He was driving to the nearest police station and that was it!

Only one road is cut off, the other is flooding towards him and it takes all his composure to slam on the reverse and scream at the same time, and instead, Tino decides to just head for the high ground at a park and go from there. Tino might have been speeding for the first time in his life just then, but he figured that it was fair -- and hey, maybe a cop would come and arrest him! No such luck, however.

The mallard duck looked positively green in the face ( no pun intended ) as he thought over his options, though it felt more like he was frozen in shock, just sitting there with his hands on the wheel and looking straight ahead. Was that… the ground shaking? If he looked at his bobblehead of Bushroot (which he'd be tossing out after this endeavor, thank you very much), he could take note of how it kept shaking as if with the steps of a giant duck --

The passenger door to his car opens, a figure jumps inside and Tino screams like a banshee and just tosses his wallet and car keys at them, fruitlessly trying to open the door and escape after he reactively locked them with the press of a button.

"TAKE IT, I DON'T NEED IT, I'M A POOR COLLEGE PROFESSOR SPARE ME --"

"JUST CALM DOWN, I DON'T WANT YOUR DANG -- wait Real? Tino Real?! It's me! Jack Pumi! Old co-star?!" And as if a switch had been flipped inside Tino's head, first his voice gives out and then his beak shuts, and his feathers unruffle themselves. Yes, he knew a Jack Pumi, that's right.

"Oh, sorry friend! You really shouldn't sneak up on a duck-like that, I feel like I almost laid my heart there!" Tino practically melts into his seat as his stress is wrung out of him at the sight of a familiar face during these scary times. "What brings you to… my car?" Hey, why did Jack get into his car?

"Ah, don't sweat it old chum! We're all a little jumpy nowadays, criminals on the run and all that." The Bushroot bobblehead is starting to shake with considerable vigor, but this is missed by the two as Jack pats Tino on the shoulder. "As for why I'm here --" A look in the rearview mirror, the surprisingly unmistakable sound of a car being stepped on not too far behind them by a giant clown robot. "DRIVE!"

You didn't have to ask Tino twice, even if they both fumbled with the keys back and forth before finally taking off as a massive foot concaved the ground where they just were, but it was best if they focused on that later. Right now, they were flooring it to… somewhere.

"Just like the good old days, don't you think? So, what's the plan, captain?" As Jack tried to hold on through Tino's panicked driving, he felt he might as well make some small talk -- not to mention that he talks when he's nervous.

"In the good old days, we were the bad guys squashing innocent civilians, and I have to say, it isn't much fun when you're on the other side of it! And p-plan, well, I don't know, drive until it leaves us alone? Until the deranged clown gets bored?"

"If I recall, boring that quacking menace is the last thing you want to do…"

"Well, what do you suggest?! Ohnononoit'sgettingcloser!" And the laughing is getting considerably irksome, if not straight up giving the both of them goose-skin.

"Where were you going before I showed up, why were you just sitting there at the park?"

"I was thinking of driving to a police station and hiding there, but the streets got flooded so I drove to higher ground and then… I froze in the existential terror of considering that a super-powered copycat of myself was wreaking havoc."

"First: beats driving in circles trying to lose this clown, second: boy I feel ya, but now's maybe not the time to focus on that pal-io! How's about you really step on the gas and see if we can't throw it off? There, right there! Turn!"

A paired screaming match occurs when Jack just grabs the wheel and sends them on a sudden turn right, Tino struggling to regain control of the car before laughing hysterically with nervous energy as Quackerjack's mech kept going straight… before turning to look at them again. They screamed again and floored the gas as far down as this crusty old car could go.

Meanwhile, Quackerjack just let out a singular 'huh' at the realization that there was a car under him the whole time… before devolving into a manic fit of giggles at the realization of the terror he caused to the two little bugs hidden under his massive robot's beak. Oh, he loves being a bad guy. Endless fun!

---

"I'm TELLING you, that's a giant Quackerjack robot! Look! Look!"

"How many times do I have to tell you that I can't jump that high?!"

---

The rest of the drive was… surprisingly peaceful. Sure, there were random root systems on the road that pretty much served as speedbumps every so often, but outside of that there was no sign of any evildoers, only the ominous red glow in the sky coming from some skyscraper or other, neither Tino or Jack cared much for the fancy science labs uptown… but that probably explains the commotion going on! The bet was on if it was science or magic behind this mess, and Tino was feeling pretty sure about his bet on magic.

Alright, so maybe peaceful wasn't the word, more like… eerie. But it beat constant panic 100%, so Tino wasn't complaining! About that, at least. He was most certainly complaining about his current treatment at the police station -- they wouldn't arrest him! Which wasn't a complaint he thought he could make.

"We're not looking for fanboys, we're looking for the actual actors to turn themselves in!"

"F-fanboys!? Why I oughta -- do you expect me to grow a plant on top of my head? I'm Tino Real, I played Bushroot, this is Jack Pumi, he played the Liquidator. What's next, you expect him to turn into liquid?"

Perhaps a bad choice of words, as that's exactly the footage that was shown through live news on the tv right then and there, Bushroot and the Liquidator teaming up and just wiping the floor with what appeared to be… Gizmoduck. Huh. Oh well.

"Honestly, yes. We already caught the other two, and they're not causing any problems anymore."

"Wait, other two? Do you mean Dan and Mike?" Jack interrupts, only to be interrupted himself by the officer that had just been speaking. "Quackerjack and Megavolt," the officer corrects.

Tino can't resist facepalming.

"You can see Quackerjack in the distance from here…" It was true, it looked like he was headed for the building emitting that ominous glow, for whatever reason, but there's no missing that giant clown robot-toy thing. That murmured exasperation does give the officer pause, and he holds up an index finger telling them to wait where they are… which they do, with a tap of a foot and impatient crossed arms, as he walks around his desk, doggy tail impatiently swooshing behind him… before quickly tucking between his legs as he hurried back inside, seconds before the lights inside the station all shut down, emergency generators kicking in seconds after.

"Quackerjack, Megavolt, accounted for. You were right." Snout pale, the dog looked like he was sweating underneath his coat of fur, licking his lips in nervousness. So maybe they shouldn't have been quite as ruff when apprehending the first two… Oh well. "I don't care anymore, you can share a cell with the other washed-up acts." The green duck said something about it being safer in than out, and well, the police dog couldn't exactly argue against it. Besides, the mayor said to apprehend them, right? Hopefully, no word about them trying to turn these two away would surface…

---

"Dan, Mike, buddies, remember me?!"

That got the two sitting in the cell snap their heads up so fast, one could almost hear a whip crack, and Mike punches Dan in the shoulder, a large grin on his face. "See, what did I tell ya, they got caught too, which means they know we're innocent, so they have to let us out. That, and you owe me 20."

"Funny joke, clown, they're joining you, not the other way around."

One click, two click, and Toni and Jack join the other two actors inside the cell, and Toni nearly kisses the floor he's so glad to be inside and safe. Well, safe-ish.

"Haha, don't mind him, we just had a rough trip on the way over, traffic was absolutely killer!" No, Jack couldn't help it, he had to make that joke. "We would've gotten here sooner, but we spent like ten minutes driving away from a killer giant robot that looked like… what's with the clown costume?" It wasn't Quackerjack-y, but that was definitely a clown outfit.

"Oh, was that your car?! Ahahaha -- sorry, sorry, but that's all I could see from that window -- he almost crushed you two a good five times! And I'm a clown. End of story." The tone of voice certainly said so, but then it quickly turned to confusion. "Wait, what do you mean 'gotten here sooner'? You want to be in jail?"

"Well, we, we, we were going to turn ourselves in! And we did! It's safer to be in here than out there, you know! You watched us almost get crushed!"

Mike looks like he's about to say something, and then he realizes Toni definitely had a good point there, so he settles on shrugging his shoulders, looking at Dan and hoping he'd have any sort of opinion on this other than just 'meh'.

"So…" Dan starts, feeling particularly coerced by Mike's incessant staring, but not having anything interesting to talk about.

"So…" Jack copies as he looks around their holding cell before slapping his hands together. "We're staying in here until this all blows over, as I'm pretty sure they know we're not the ones causing the big old ruckus. Kind of slaps me with a terrible sense of deja-vu, to be quite honest. The Fearsome Four, back together!"

That does bring up some amused mumbling from the group, even if the mere mention of the show had since gotten stale thanks to Jim Starling's obsession with it, mentioning it wherever he went.

"The only thing that's missing is Dorkwing Duck, huh?" Mike adds, snickering to himself, before pausing with a pensive look on his beak, and Toni can't help but regret what he's about to ask:

"What's on your mind, Michael?"

"Just thinking, really, but… What if this is Jim's doing? You all heard how he went crazy about the movie, right? Single handedly got it canceled, got into a fight with the new guy playing Darkwing Duck. What if this is him trying to reboot it on his own now?" Ignoring the fact that it sounded like a conspiracy theory, it almost made sense. He hasn't been seen since, so what if he was planning his comeback all this time?

The four occupants of the cell look at each other, and then break down laughing.

"As if! That thick headed, self-centered dimwit couldn't plan something this far ahead!"

"Where would he find these super-powered copycats, anyway?!"

"You'd think he'd come for the source material, if it came to that!"

"Ahaha, I know, right!?"

And just like that, the ice was broken, and the four of them made themselves as comfortable as they could in their current situation, deciding to look at it as a surprise reunion. Funny how most of their problems with the old show stemmed from Jim…

---

A large explosion echoes through St. Canard, and Mike wastes no time in trying to peek out the tiny cell window while a commotion began at the front of the police station. The ominous red glow faded from the sky, the plants withered, lights flickered back on through the city, and floods ran down drain pipes.

Whatever it was, it was done. Hopefully.

---

The next morning wasn't exactly glamorous. They were served their breakfast slop and told to wait until they fixed the bureaucracy involved in this mess, because apparently there was no paperwork for "interdimensional villains from an old live-action hero show", and there was no real proof they weren't connected somehow.

"Outside of the fact that we spent all night in here?! Let! Us! Out!"

"Seriously, what is it with clowns and short tempters…" Dan mutters, but all that Toni and Jack offer him is a vague shrug. Mike was just like that, why else would they pick him to play Quackerjack?

"Experts agree, stressing yourself out won't get you anywhere, friend!" Jack starts, even if he's not exactly sure who the experts would be in this case. It does make the duck stop trying to strangle or otherwise pry the cell bars appart with sheer physical strength -- that, or someone was finally coming to see them. Turns out it was the later, but Jack would like to believe he helped anyway!

No words of acknowledgement, just the same cop that greeted Toni and Jack yesterday, but now, instead of a scared look on his face, he looked positively starstruck. Which would be nice, if he hadn't made it clear that he didn't care about their acting careers, so what gives? The four of them look at each other, and after a vague shrug from Dan, they file out of the holding cells and make their way out. Or plan to, at least, until Mike comes to a full stop and forces everyone behind him to stumble over each other.

"Hey, what gives --!"

"JIM!? I WAS KIDDING WHEN I SAID THOSE THINGS YESTERDAY, I DIDN'T THINK IT WAS ACTUALLY YOU BEHIND THIS --"

The clown-attired duck rattles off, and that startles both the party behind him and the supposed Jim, who jumps a whole foot into the air and stretches his hands in front of him, trying to calm the shocked duck down.

"N-no, no, you got it all wrong, I'm Darkwing Duck! The one and only! Technically based on the remake but we don't talk about it! AlsoI'mabigfanandIwaswonderingifyouwouldn'tmindsigningthisposter--"

The first part wouldn't be unbelievable if it had been Jim, but the mention of a remake knocked it down a peg, and then saying he's a fan and asking for an autograph, even if said all in one breath, definitely meant it wasn't Jim. The (once) Fearsome Four let out a shared sigh that they didn't know they were holding as they surrounded this… cosplayer, for lack of a better term.

"Could've fooled me, you're his splitting image, I tell you what… Well, no, you're smooth. He was more…" Mike takes a second to mess up his face feathers, making it look like he'd been sleeping face down for a month. "Gruff, yeah? You look like a baby in comparison."

"Hey! I'll have you know I saved this city from complete annihilation!"

"What was that about a poster, kiddo?" Jack interjects, leaning over Mike's shoulder. "I guess it's the least we can do for saving our city, and in turn us. Not going to lie, it's been a while since I've signed a poster, ever since I started selling --"

"Tupperware?! I have your entire collection, you weren't lying when you said those things could last!"

Jack had to stop and blink for a second, even if his brain automatically had him fetch a pen from an inner pocket. The guy was a "hero", yet here he was fanboying over a tupperware salesman. "Haha, well, I don't like having my face attached to cheap products, what can I say. So, who do we make it out to be?"

"Uh… Darkwing… Duck?"

"Creative," Dan adds with a snicker, but takes the pen from Jack anyway to sign the poster.

"Short notice, what can I say, I came as soon as I heard that they had you guys locked up in here, after making sure the interdimensional evil-doers were in their respective places of course!" The masked duck before them poses in what they guess he thinks is a heroic pose, and out of politeness they don't mention that it makes him look like an absolute tool.

"So those… look-alikes, they're gone? Oh, I never realized quite how frightening our characters were at the time, it was just a silly children's cartoon…" Genuinely, all that Toni wanted now was to crawl home and pass out for a week straight, even if he might miss a weeks worth of work. He felt like it was only fair!

"Darkwing Duck guarantee! I would tell more in hopes of assuring you, but it's all classified, I'm sure you can understand. Just know that there's a real hero watching St. Canard now! Petty thug or super-villain, I'm your guy!"

The poster goes from hand to hand, and they all sign it before giving it back, and the excitement the masked duck shows for it is a little nice, as Jack had mentioned previously. Usually Jim hogged all the attention at fan meetings, whether the fan wanted it or not.

"Oh Launch… I mean, LP is going to eat his scarf when he sees this! You guys have just made a hero's day! Say, would it be too much if I asked for a h--"

"Yeah, no, too much." Dan deadpanned, and everyone agreed wholeheartedly, instead offering a handshake instead, which is gladly taken.

"So, what are your plans now? I could give one of you a ride!" Wringing his hat between his hands, this Darkwing Duck wannabe looked like he wanted to tag along with them, as if he expected them to act like they did on the show, and an awkward look was shared between the four of them. How to gently let this guy down… Seriously, they didn't need a vigilante deciding reality equals fiction -- IGNORING THE EVENTS OF LAST NIGHT.

"Thanks but no thanks, my plan is to go home, pass out, and forget this ever happened." Answer, you just don't, it's a grown man for quack's sake. Mike drops the cape corner he was inspecting and waltzes out the door, his hat jingling behind him.

It didn't take much for everyone else to follow after.

"Pretty much." "Ditto." "I'm still not certain it wasn't an overly elaborate dream."

Not taking a hint, Darkwing Duck follows after them, waving as they all squeeze into Toni's little car. "Good thinking, guys! Just remember, if there's trouble --"

"You call DW!" Alright, he could have that one freebie on the house, Jack decided, even if everyone else in the car stink eyed him for indulging the masked weirdo. "What, it is a catchy tune!"

The car wasn't the only thing grumbling as it drove off.

[liliesoftherain]

20 and 58 for Todoroki please !

20: “Wait a minute… Are you jealous?” 58: “Are you flirting with me?”

Ah this was cute, sorry about the wait! I’m a bit busy with finals coming up. I swear I’m about to fail chemistry and I’M CRYING.

 I guess this can be considered Todoroki x GN!Reader since I never specified gender, but anyways  ENJOY!

Shouto Todoroki!:

Todoroki let his eyes wander towards your form for the millionth time that day, and like every time he did, he felt his blood boil. He didn’t know why he was feeling this way, he really didn’t have a reason to feel-dare he say-angry? He was confused at the way his heart clenched as you threw your head back and touched his bicep. He caught Bakugou’s gaze and saw the smirk rise on the boys face as he threw an arm around your shoulders. 

He watched as your cheeks flush while you pushed Bakugou’s chest when he leaned down and whispered in your ear. You looked up and made eye contact with him and he looked away suddenly. His heart racing, why was he feeling this way? It was so sudden and painful. Why did he feel like someone was squeezing his heart with cold, bony hands.

He looked back towards you and saw as you wiggled out of Bakugou’s hold and walk towards your desk, which so happened to be right next to his. He looked away, hoping you didn’t catch his gaze, instead opting to look down at his backpack as he lifted onto his shoulder to leave.

“Hey Todoroki,” You greeted while grabbing your stuff and stood by him,”You did great during sparring lessons today. You’re one hell of a knockout!”  You smiled shyly, throwing a subtle pickup line that surely even this boy would understand.

“Thanks, you did pretty well yourself.” 

Guess not.

“Oh no, nothing compares to you-” He gave a smile at your praise. “And Bakugou! You guys are totally awesome.” 

His smile dropped. 

You were oblivious to his mood change, happily chatting next to him about all the students and their fighting capabilities. You felt like Midoriya for a second, and had to laugh at the thought.

Todoroki snapped out of his funk at your cute laughter and sighed.

“Yea, I guess you would think Bakugou is amazing.” His eyes widen a fraction before going back to normal, unable to figure out why he just said what he did.

You raised a brow.

“I mean, yea Bakugou is one of the best students in this course honestly. Besides you.” 

“Hm.”

“I mean it, Bakugou has an explosive power for sure, and can be pretty analytical when he wants to be but,” you grinned, “you’re pretty hot.” You were hoping that a more forward approach would help this dense boy realize you were flirting.

“Well, I mean I’m mostly cold. I prefer my right side” Todoroki responded.

You sighed internally, these kind of answers were nothing new to you.

“Well then you must be a 90 degree angle.”

“What?”

“Cause you’re looking right!” 

“Okay?” 

This boy was impossible, but that’s why you liked him. Before you could respond Bakugou came up behind you and grabbed your bag from you.

“Let’s go short stack before I leave you here.” 

You sent a glance at Todoroki who just stared at Bakugou with indifferent eyes. You frowned and nodded, walking off. A part of you wishing Todoroki would ask you to walk with him back towards the dorms. 

Todoroki kept his gaze unwavering as he stared straight into Bakugou’s eyes. He had the overwhelming urge to shove him away and be the one to hold your bag and walk you back to the dorms. Bakugou smirked once more before shaking your bag in his face, like he was showcasing his victory. Todoroki’s eyes snapped into a sharp glare, his demeanor breaking as he shoved his shoulder roughly against the others while he stocked off, making his way passed you and quickly disappearing.

You looked back at Bakugou with a brow raised.

“What was that?” 

Bakugou just shrugged, his present frown back on his face and he shoved his hands in his pockets.

“I told you IcyHot likes you, you’re the dumbass who doesn’t want to believe me.”

“W-why bring that up now-he could hear you!” You hissed out, cheeks growing dark at the thought of Todoroki listening in.

You walked next to him, who continued to pester you about your crush the entire walk back. It wasn’t an easy feat to befriend the explosive boy, but it was worth it. You enjoyed his friendship, hard edges and all. While everyone thinks you two are an item, you both try to shut down any rumors quickly. You had only ever thought of him as a brother, your heart was taken by a cute boy who never understood any of your pickup lines. It was frustrating to say the least, you wanted to know if he felt the same way or not. Bakugou’s insistence didn’t help ease your heart in the slightest. 

You caught the bag Bakugou threw at you, and you saw he glanced behind you. You went to turn around to see what he was looking at but he put his hands on your shoulders to keep you in place. You saw a smirk in place as he leaned in close to your face, you just had a bewildered expression on.

“Uh-” You heard a large smacking sound and whipped your head to see one of the chairs to the breakfast table on the floor, with Todoroki walking into the kitchen out of sight.

“Bakugou-”

“You’re an idiot.” He whispered softly and you bite your lip to keep the snarky remark you wanted to spit back at bay. Bakugou’s eyes were soft, even though his lips were still pulled in a thin line. “You need to get your head out of your ass and tell that dense bastard you like him, before I do it because this constant pining is fucking annoying.” 

“But what if he doesn’t..” You looked down. 

The squeeze on your shoulders made you look back into his eyes.

“IcyHot may be a low-class nobody, but he isn’t fucking blind. It seems you are though if you can’t tell how much he likes you.” He pulled away and crossed his arms, looking to the left where Todoroki disappeared. “Just go before I kick your ass.”

You felt hesitant but nodded anyways.

“Thanks Baku-bestie.”

“Call me that shit one more time and I’ll kill you and shitty hair for giving you those stupid names.”

“Whatever you say Baku-bro.” 

You ignored his yelling as you walked into the kitchen, your heart thumping as you saw the man of your dreams making tea.

“Hey Todoroki, are you okay?” You walked up and saw how his shoulders tensed before relaxing, if you weren’t paying attention to his broad back-when weren’t you-you would have missed it.

“Fine. Is there something you need.”

You swallowed a lump in your throat. If you had any ounce of a Casanova in you, now was the time.

“Did it hurt?”

“No? I mean the chair was the only thing that fell, I just didn’t have time to pick it up. I was craving tea you see-”

“When you fell out of heaven?” You cut off his rambling.

“What?” He blinked, finally looking straight at you to see the large blush across your cheeks as you played with your fingers.

“I uhm, I do need something actually. I need you to call the cops..”

“What’s wrong?” He grew concerned, looking at you up and down to see if you were alright.

“ Well because it’s illegal to look that good.” You pointed at him, then moved your hand to cup your chin as if you were deep in thought. “ Well maybe calling the cops wouldn’t be a good idea, you see I’m a thief and i’m here to steal your heart.”

He stared at you, conflicted emotions breaking through.

“(l/n).. Are you flirting with me?”

“I have been for the past two years but thanks for noticing.” You laughed shakily, still feeling nervous at the thought of being rejected.

“Why?” Was the only thing he could ask.

He didn’t understand it, you’ve been trying to flirt with him for 2 years?

“Why? Because… I like you Shouto..” You looked down at your fingers, blushing even more as his first name rolled off of your lips.

Todoroki felt his own face grow hot for the same reasons, until he frowned as he thought of the boy you were always hanging around.

“You’re always with Bakugou-” He spat out, and had to stop himself unless he wanted his flames to go off. He felt that same burning feeling in his chest at the thought of you two together. 

“Wait a minute… Are you jealous?” You questioned.

His eyes widened as he thought of his behavior and feelings. He was jealous. That explains his hurting heart, and the current distaste he held for the other boy. 

“I.. I suppose I am.” He admitted after a moment of silence.

“Shouto Bakugou and I are just friends. I can’t even imagine us together, that’s pretty disgusting.”

He blinked, unable to think.

Your anxiety rose the longer he was quiet and your fidgeting grew worse. He noticed and grabbed your hands to stop yourself from tearing your fingers off.

“(y/n).. I’m sorry. I should have realized sooner but…” You smiled at his blushing face.

“It’s okay, I should’ve told you outright sooner, since I guess you don’t know what cheesy pick up lines are.” You puffed out your cheeks.

“I know what they are, you’re just bad at them.”

You gasped and yanked a hand away to slap his chest.

“How rude! My pick up lines are actual gold! You just aren’t a connoisseur of perfection apperently.”

“I know you’re perfection.” 

His words made you speechless, his small smile even more so. Your heart was thumping so loud you swore he could hear it loud and clear. 

“Shouto..”

“Go out with me.” He spoke, his hushed voice sending goosebumps up your arms.

“Okay.” 

His smile stayed on his face as he turned to take care of the ringing tea kettle as it broke you out of your trance. You watched as he grabbed another cup and made you one. You brought it up to your lips to hide the smile of your own.

You spent the rest of the day getting to know each other better while trying, and failing, to get some studying in. 

Yea, even if your pick up lines weren’t the best, Todoroki would listen to them forever if that meant you would be happy. 

[ladyseaheart1668]

Endless Summer Book 4: Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 52)

Description: As Alodia and Diego flee toward Northbridge, Zahra makes an astonishing discovery

Tagging: @endlesshero1122 @mysteli @feartheendlesssummer @whatmcsaid @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @tigerbryn11

Chapter 52: Stranded

Zahra

“...The Hydra is a myth. Look for the triumvirate. Crassus has betrayed Caesar and Pompey. ...JAKE!”

“You listening to that recording again?” Craig's voice is languid with sleep. I don't need to look up from the computer to know that he's in his boxers in the doorway with his hair adorably tousled with sleep, because that's how I left him.

“I've got it on in the background.”

“The background of what?”

“Iris and I are looking into the background of that plane Lundgren used to get Jake and Sean and Michelle to the island.”

He wanders over to stand behind my chair and absently massage my shoulders as I click and clack away at the keyboard. “I thought the cops or whatever had already looked into that?”

“They have. But all they've told us is that it wasn't one of ours. They didn't say anything about who it was actually registered to.”

“Maybe they're still trying to figure that out.”

“Yeah, I'm guessing they are, assuming they're not actually actively hiding something. Either way, I'm not inclined to wait for them to decide what we should know.”

I have the numbers I need. The tail number, and serial numbers for various parts on the plane. Now I just need to get out without a trace, and into another database where I can plug those numbers in to find their matches. Even if the plane was cobbled together from stolen parts—if that's even possible—I can trace the parts' histories and their last legal location. Hopefully, there is enough consistency to pin down a location where the plane was most likely assembled. Or where it was stolen from. Craig sits down in the chair beside me. I reach over to rub his shoulder appreciatively before returning to the task at hand.

I won't admit out loud that this chasing after airplane parts is mostly to occupy myself and make me feel like I'm doing something now that my progress with the Galatea recording has stalled. I've gone over it from every angle I can think of. But now I feel like I just need to step back and work on something else for awhile. Look at it with fresh eyes after a relatively simple task like tracking down the owner of a possibly stolen plane.

Craig nestles his head in his arms on the desk beside the computer while the numbers flash over the screen. He starts to snore softly. When Iris' hologram flickers to life and floods the room with blue light, Craig grunts and mumbles something unintelligible.

“Zahra,” Iris says, “I have found something that I believe you need to see.”

“Yeah? What is it?”

“I believe the plane was not assembled from stolen parts. ...However...if you will observe the information on the screen...”

I turn to look at the screen. I squint as I scan what Iris has projected there for me. Then I feel my eyes go wide.

“...Holy shit...”

Diego

We change drivers about an hour into the trip when we stop to refuel. After another hour, we change again. Conversation ebbs and flows as we speed along a dark and empty stretch of road that runs through what must be a forest preserve. When we speak, it's mostly about where we should go when we reach Northbridge. Estela and Quinn first, we decide. We don't know whether Michelle and Sean made it back from their honeymoon or not, or they would be our first stop. Actually, as Allie points out, if Jake was taken prisoner at the same time we were, it's possible Sean and Michelle were taken, too. Even more reason to try someone else first. If Estela and Quinn can't be reached, we'll seek out Aleister and Grace, then Zahra and Craig, then Tahira. The important thing is that we get Allie someplace safe while we try to get a handle on what's happened to Jake and if he can be located.

“Midwife said the wouldn't kill him as long as he could still be used against me,” she says softly. “...But...when they find out I've escaped...”

“He'll be that much more valuable,” I assure her. “And they'll want to use him to lure you out, which will probably make it that much easier to find him.”

“...What if they hurt him to punish me for escaping?”

My heart squeezes at her question. I can't say they won't. I can't ignore the possibility. But I also can't let her think escaping was a mistake.

“Allie...as soon as you're safe, my priority and everyone else's is going to be to get him safe. You know that, right?”

She nods. “I know. But it's not like not worrying is really an option...”

“Hey, I get it. But let me tell you something. When we first got back after the island, Jake was arrested almost the moment we set foot on American soil. ...We had him out in four months. And that was while we were trying to make up a semester's worth of college work.”

“...You're exaggerating.”

“Nope. Cross my heart, it's true. You can ask him yourself when you see him again. Which, by the way, is going to be before you give birth to his kid.”

“Well...it's certainly hard not to trust confidence like...” She trails off so suddenly that I can't help but feel a quick, hot flash of dread. I glance over to see her frowning.

“What?”

“Are...you messing with the light level on the dashboard?”

“What? I don't think...” I feel my stomach lurch as I get a good look at the dashboard and see what she means. The panel has gone dim. So dim that I can barely read the time on the clock, much less the GPS screen. The headlights aren't looking their brightest, either. My gut tells me to pull over. A worn dirt road just ahead of me drifts off the main road. The dimming headlights are just bright enough to illuminate it, and I just manage to pull off as the car abruptly stalls and dies, slowing to a stop. It's only once we've actually stopped that I realize my heart is pounding and my knuckles have gone white on the steering wheel. I carefully peel my fingers off the wheel and feel the tremors racing through my body as I put the gear shift in park. I look over at Allie. It's dark, without street lamps along the quiet road, but what little moonlight there is reflects off her pale face and shows me a stunned expression.

“Are you all right?”

“W-what happened?”

“The car kind of...lost power. And I think...” I experimentally turn the key, but nothing happens. I try again. I flick a few switches, try the key a third time. “...I've had this happen before. It's probably a bad alternator.”

“...What do we do? How do we make it start again?”

“...There's...there's a portable jump-starter in the back with the gas cans,” I offer, but the knot in my stomach doesn't loosen. “We don't need another car to jump-start with one of those, but...if I'm right and it's the alternator, it might not do any good.”

“It's worth a try...”

I nod, grabbing the flashlight that we found in the glove compartment the first time we stopped to refuel. I pop the hood and get out of the car, shivering at the blast of bitingly cold air that hits me. I rub my arms vigorously as I make my way around to the hatch at the back of the jeep. I'm not dressed for this weather. Maybe a native northeasterner wouldn't feel the cold so badly dressed in a sweatsuit, but I'm from southern California, and I don't stop hopping as I fetch the portable jump-starter and hook it up to the car battery, the flashlight's beam shuddering over the maze of parts and wires under the hood. Unfortunately, I'm proven right about the effectiveness of the power pack. The car stays stubbornly dead. I groan, pressing my forehead to the steering wheel.

“Cell phones,” I mutter. “We should have asked Midwife for cell phones...”

“I've already groped around the glove compartment for one,” Allie says apologetically. “Granted, the light in there is out, too. I could take another look with the flashlight, but...”

“It's worth a try,” I echo ruefully, and pass her the flashlight. I'm not surprised when it turns out she didn't miss anything. “...Shit. What now?”

“I guess we need to get out and walk.”

“Walk?” I repeat incredulously. “Walk where?”

“Follow the road we're on. Or the main road. The forest preserve can't be so big that we won't hit civilization after an hour or two.”

“But it's night. In the northeast. In late March. We're really not dressed for it.”

“There's the tarp that was over the gas cans. We can wrap up in that. Beside, the heat won't last in here if we can't keep the car going.”

“But we will be a little better shielded from the elements. We could wrap up in the tarp and wait until morning. At least the sun will keep us warmer.”

“But we'll lose our head start. We're only about two-and-a-half hours from where we escaped from. Granted, we'll be slower on foot, but at least we'll be moving. Come on, it's not like it's likely to be a lot more walking than we ever did on the island, right?”

“You weren't nine months pregnant on the island,” I can't help pointing out.

“...Yeah, I know. Not saying that won't make it harder. But when you weigh the options...I gotta say, I think we'll both be safer if we keep moving.”

“I guess splitting up isn't an option...”

“No way in hell.”

“Yeah,” I agree with a rueful smile. “I wasn't keen on that either. Just thought I should make sure we didn't ignore any options. Guess we're walking then.”

* * *

We opt to follow the main road, but stick to the shelter of the forest preserve to avoid being seen by anyone who might be on the road searching for us with hostile intent. Getting into the trees proved a challenge, as the incline up into the forest from the dirt road we stopped on was steeper and higher than we anticipated. With a little bit of help, and a little bit more panic from me, Allie made it up onto relatively level ground, but the going is till tough. The path is uneven, and everything outside the beam of the flashlight is a mess of black shadows with patches of navy blue.

Huddled under the tarp, pressed close together, the cold night air is at least a little more bearable. Still, my fingers, my toes inside my worn sneakers, the tips of my ears, and my running nose are all numb. I dab at the mucus trickling from my nose with the tarp draped over my forearm and sniff forcefully, hoping give myself at least a moment of relief. It doesn't really work. My breath is short with the exertion of trying to navigate an uneven terrain while pressed close to another person, and the cold, dry late winter air is like gaseous fire in my lungs. My throat is starting to itch. I don't even know how long we've been walking.

“Allie? You holding u—hpp!” Okay, clearly trying to talk was a mistake. The itching in my dry throat is suddenly unbearable, and I have to cough. And once I get started, it doesn't stop. I double over, hacking and coughing like a 20-year chain-smoker. I only vaguely feel Allie guiding me to the edge of the path to sit down against a tree and catch my breath. I collapse on my butt in the cold dirt and lean back against the rough bark as I draw in wheezing breaths and release them in another round of explosive coughing. She crouches down in a slightly awkward motion, and I feel her cold hand rest gently on the back of my neck as she places the plastic rim of a bottle to my lips.

“Here. Take a couple sips. Slowly.” I do as she tells me. Cool water flows soothingly down my throat, and I start to breathe a little easier.

“W-water bottle?” I question hoarsely when I think I can speak again without starting the whole ordeal over again.

“Found it behind the gas cans. Not a big one, but I thought I should bring it along. Been carrying it in my pant leg.”

I nod as she takes a sip herself. I can believe that the baggy sweatpants with their tight cuffs made a pretty nice pouch for what I can just about make out as a 20-ounce water bottle.

“Must have been cold holding it there, though.” I sense her shrug more than I see it in the swimming darkness.

“The heater in the car had warmed it up enough. And the heat from my body kept it at a bearable temperature. You feeling good enough to press on?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay now.”

“Good. But...actually, take a couple more minutes. I need to...um...well...squat.”

I laugh, which almost makes me cough again. “Say no more. Take the flashlight and yell if you need anything.”

* * *

Once we get moving again, I'm not sure how much more time passes before I first start to notice the space around us turning the slightest bit grayer as the first hints of light start to wink at a horizon obscured by foliage. I don't remember what time we started out on foot, but I can guess now that it's pushing six in the morning. I have no idea of the date or the day of the week. Hopefully civilization isn't much further. And hopefully it's a work day. More likely that people will be up and about at the buttcrack of dawn. By now, the exertion has warmed us up enough that we aren't huddled so close together, though we keep our hands clasped firmly to keep from losing each other. I think I can see a bit of a break in the trees ahead. I gently steer us toward it, and Allie follows my lead.

What happens next happens so fast that I'm not sure what happens first. One second, Allie is right beside me, her hand curled in mine. The next, I hear the sound of loose earth shifting, pebbles tumbling over each other. I feel a tug, our hands pulling sharply apart. I hear a human body hitting the ground, and my best friend's strangled cry of pain. I turn to see empty gray air beside me where she had been standing.

“Allie!”

I just manage to stop myself from diving into the space where she was. A good thing, too, as I realize when I swing my flashlight towards the sound of her whimpering and catch a flash of golden hair in the beam. She's lying on her side halfway down the inclined bank of what looks like a dry creek bed. From her position and mine, it looks like she put her food down on the edge of the incline and lost her balance.

“Diego!” she groans through clenched teeth. “Stay back, okay? It's really steep here!”

She's right. There is at least three feet of distance between us, but at least she seems to be at least somewhat anchored where she is.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“...Yeah...” she admits, her voice a croak. My heart drops into my stomach with a sickening splash.

“What? How? Where? How bad?”

“Not entirely sure. I need to get up.”

“Right. Rightrightright, okay...” I look around frantically, spotting a solid looking tree that appears to be in a good position. “Allie? I'm gonna wrap the tarp around this tree and feed it down to you. Grab on, and then you've got something solid to hold onto if our hands slip.”

Between me and the tarp, we slowly and laboriously manage to get Allie back on level ground. She curls up on her side, gasping, her face twisted in a grimace. I rub her shoulder and brush stray wisps of hair off her forehead.

“Where does it hurt? Can you stand?” Fear seizes me afresh as a horrible thought worms its way into my head. “Is it the baby?”

“Baby's fine...” she manages to croak, though it sounds like it takes a lot of effort. “She's squirming away in there. It's my back, Diego. My lower back. I got cut by something...”

“Shit...”

I move to kneel on her other side and shine the flashlight at her lower back and shudder at what I find, my veins fizzing with anxiety. A long, jagged wound oozing blood in the fleshy part of her lower back, running from above her hip bone almost up to her last rib. As gently as I can, I put my thumb to the edge of the wound and lift just enough to see if I can tell how deep it is.  Allie gasps sharply, letting out a whimper as she exhales.

“It...doesn't look very deep...but it's deep enough to be bleeding pretty badly.” I run my fingers through my hair, grabbing a fistful. The pain in my scalp feels somehow steadying. “I'm going to use the tarp to put pressure on it.”

“The tarp is filthy,” she protests weakly.

“I know. But it's all we've got right now.”

“We don't have time to stop. We have to keep going.”

“If you drip blood, that's just going to make it easier for them to track us.”

When she doesn't protest further, I help her sit up carefully. Quickly as I can, I find a relatively clean section of the tarp and press it to what looks like the deepest part of the wound. I fold and wrap and tuck until it feels like I have a sufficient enough bandage to last a little while. Allie doesn't protest when I pass her the flashlight and tuck myself under her arm to help her get to her feet.  

“You're going to have to be in charge of the flashlight. I'm not letting you get away from me again.”

She laughs weakly, mirthlessly. “Wasn't actually trying to. Promise. ...Anyway, I don't think we have a lot farther to go. I think I can see a building up ahead.”

Alodia

The building that I see in the distance was probably at one time a cute little ranch-style house. With a brown-brick-and-stucco facade, gray-shingled hip roof with wide eaves, and a front-facing bay window overlooking the porch swing, it must have been like a fairy-tale cottage on the edge of the forest preserve. But as we get closer, and the sun lifts over the horizon, I realize it has probably been abandoned for at least a decade, if not longer. The rows of shingles have gaps in them like missing teeth. The windows that aren't cracked or broken are layered with grime. The facade is crumbling in places. But it's shelter.

There's a stabbing pain in the arch of my left foot. My legs and thighs throb with exhaustion. I have to pee again, and the wound in my back is burning. That's not to mention hunger and thirst.

“We have to get inside...” I croak weakly. “I need to rest.”

Diego hesitates for just a moment before nodding. He needs rest, too. And now that the sun is coming up, I think he's just as inclined to get out of the open as I am. We shamble up to the front door, and Diego knocks experimentally. When I look quizzically at him, he shrugs.

“Don't just want to barge in if someone's squatting here.”

But no one seems to answer. When Diego tries the door, it opens easily. We cross the threshold into a small foyer with cracked, filthy linoleum and peeling wallpaper patterned with strawberries that probably looked cute and cheery in its prime. The archway to our left opens into the kitchen. Just ahead is what looks like it used to be the living area. And then to our right is a hall that leads to the bedrooms. I'm not sure what I was expecting it to smell like, but it smells better than I would have expected. Dust, mothballs, earth, and just a hint of mold, but it's nothing overpowering, even with my sense of smell still heightened by pregnancy. Diego guides me into the living room, and eases me onto the dingy carpet.

“Here. At least you can lie on something a little more comfortable than tile while I look around.”

“What are you looking for?”

“Just...wanna see what we're dealing with...”

I don't miss the tremor in his voice, and I can guess what's worrying him. I reach out to grasp his wrist. “You shouldn't go alone.”

He shakes his head. “You're hurt. And exhausted. It's better if you stay here and rest for a moment.”

“At least don't go completely unarmed.” I glance around, and I catch a glimpse of the fireplace on the far wall. It looks like it was an old-fashioned wood-burning fireplace, rather than gas, unless the fireplace stand on the hearth is just for decoration. “Take the poker. For my peace of mind.”

“Twist my arm, why don't you,” he quips. “Lie down for a few minutes, Allie. You need some rest.”

I don't lie down until he actually takes hold of the poker. Even then, I take the water bottle out of my pant leg first so I can take a swallow. But once I am horizontal, whatever kept me going through our slow slog through the forest drains right out of me. My lower back is on fire, and the worn, ragged carpet feels coarse and greasy against my cheek. But I am so damn tired. The abandoned room around me fades into a gray fog populated by dancing ghosts.

I looked out the window, and I couldn't see. It wasn't too dark, it was just too foggy.

The voice is distant, buried inside my head, but it sounds like a child. I can almost see a child, too, cooing in a sing-song voice at a toy that they walk across the carpet. And a smaller sibling, naked except for a diaper, shrieking with delight as their parent chases them with a pair of footie pajamas.

“Allie?” Diego's voice draws me back from the warm, happy fog, and reality crashes over me in a chilly wave. I feel a shiver race down my spine as I force my eyes to open and look up at him. It's a good deal brighter than when we came in, and the light hurts my eyes enough that I can't fully focus. But there's still something in his voice and his grip on my shoulder that alarms me.

“What's wrong?”

“I think there is someone living here after all,” he says grimly. “There's no one here at this exact moment, but I found definite signs of life. Including generators, a mini fridge, a hot plate, and a Porta Potty. There are also mattresses in the bedrooms. And blankets. And I found a first aid kit in the bathroom.”

“Is it stocked?”

“Fortunately, yes. Here's my plan: I get you into the bedroom. We set ourselves up in there with some food and water and blankets and stuff. Then we lock the door and hole up in there until nightfall. We can get some rest, and if the original squatters come back, there's a desk under the window inside, and an HVAC unit outside. It wouldn't be the easiest escape, but we could get out.”

“Or we could leave as soon as this cut on my back is cleaned and bandaged.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you're up for that, and that's what we'll do.” But of course, I can't. I can barely even get my eyes to focus on his face. I need rest, and so does he. I exhale slowly, closing my eyes as my answer. “Yeah, that's what I thought. Come on. I'll help you up.”

I lean heavily on Diego as he walks me down the hall. I don't mean to give him so much of my weight, but if I'm honest with myself, I don't feel steady at all. The sight of a mattress on the bedroom floor, complete with pillows and blankets is truly a welcome one. Even if when I lie down, I discover that the mattress is far from new and that it smells faintly of stale sweat. A lamp clicking on behind me sprays the wall in front of me with harsh white light that crests over my dark, crisp-edged shadow. Diego helps me sit up just long enough to untangle myself from the tarp before I let my head drop back onto the pillow.

“...I still can't quite reach Varyyn,” I murmur softly as Diego gently lifts my sweatshirt away from the wound.

“Midwife did say it would take awhile. ...Seems like it stopped bleeding. ...But it also looks like it's a little deeper than I thought...”

I hear him rattling around with the first aid kit. Tears start to well in my eyes, whether in anticipation of the pain, or...everything else, I'm not sure. Maybe it's both. Probably. Last time I was in a similar position, Jake was with me. Everyone who matters was with me. Well...everyone except the baby in my belly. I think I felt stronger then, though. Sure, I was in pain and scared of everything happening around me. But somehow, the Celestial felt smaller and more intimate than this tiny abandoned ranch house. And the faceless enemy whose purpose at the time was still unknown didn't feel as close and threatening as the former Arachnid goons hunting me now.

A flicker of movement at the edge of my vision makes me suck in my breath. Diego has stuck his hand over my shoulder, fingers splayed in an invitation. I lift my hand to his and squeeze it firmly. I start to draw it back, but he gently tightens his grip.

“It's okay. I gotcha. I can do the cleaning one-handed.”

“Thanks,” I murmur.

“You ready?”

“Go for it,” I reply tightly, screwing my eyes shut. “Let's get it over with.”

I manage not to flinch or cry out, but I kind of fail at breathing slowly and deeply like they've been teaching me in my birthing classes. My breath hitches in my throat, and I'm crying by the time Diego sticks a few piles of gauze pads to my back with first aid tape. Diego is quiet as he strokes my hair comfortingly.

“...Thanks,” I say at last, my voice hoarse. “Thanks for doing that.”

His hand pauses on my head. “...You protect me, Allie,” he says softly. “It's what you do. It's what you've done all our lives. But we both know you can't be the strong one all the time. I know I'm not a naturally brave person, but I'm always going to protect you when you need me to.”

“You're braver than you think you are,” I whisper, squeezing his hand.

“You just get some rest, okay? I'll fix us something to eat.”

Zahra

As usual, I'm already at the office by the time Aleister comes in at eight in the morning. He's maybe a little surprised to find me in his office instead of mine, but he doesn't show it with more than a raised eyebrow.

“Good morning, Zahra,” he says as he closes the door. “What's going on?”

I flash the file folder in my hand. A paperclip keeps the pages inside secured to the flap. “I had a feeling the cops were hiding something from us with regards to the plane that took our friends to the island. I was right.”

“I see.” He sits down at his desk. “Do we know who owns it?”

“Yeah. But that's kind of the least of our worries. I ran the tail number, serial numbers on the parts, everything they had that I could think of. They all came up attached to a single plane. ...A plane that is currently in pieces in the custody of the NTSB. And what pieces aren't in their custody are at the bottom of the ocean.” I push the folder across the desk toward him. “...All the numbers match a certain plane that crashed in 1996. ...The same one that Alodia's parents were on when they died.”

Aleister flips open the folder and scans the pages inside, his eyes alternately widening and narrowing as he takes in the information.

“...I would say that's impossible,” he says slowly, “...but I think we both know that's not true. Even if the how escapes us.”

“I'm a little more concerned with the why. Why use that plane specifically? If they didn't want to use a currently existing plane, why use the one that killed Alodia's parents? Why not a different plane from the past?”

“Perhaps they needed one with a connection to Vaanu. The one that killed his human form perhaps has more of the energy they need.”

“Yeah, I guess. ...I mean, it's all speculation at this point.”

“Did you relay this information to Jake and the others?”

“Nah. I mean, Craig knows because I tell him pretty much everything, but it doesn't seem like this is gonna do much to help actually find Alodia here and now. I feel like this tidbit can wait until they're done with their part.”

“Hmm. I suppose there is wisdom in not throwing them any potential red herrings when time is of the essence. What about the recording? Have you gotten anywhere with that?”

“I'm stuck,” I admit. “I figured out that the recording was mostly spliced, but then there was that cry for help that wasn't spliced...but where do I go from there? I mean, I guess I could isolate the background audio for any potential sound signatures that could give me an indication of where the recording was made...but that's kind of a long shot, even with Iris to help.”

“Truthfully, I am a little more interested in the coded message before that.”

I shrug. “Seems to be a code in keeping with your dad's Greco-Roman obsession. I looked up the First Triumvirate on Wikipedia, but didn't get much that was useful.”

“The relationships between the key players certainly don't seem to reflect history if Crassus is betraying Caesar and Pompey. Crassus and Caesar were steadfast allies. Historically, Pompey was the odd man out.” He sighs. “Ironically, I expect Alodia would be very helpful in figuring out the message.”

“She is our resident history buff,” I agree. “...But...maybe history isn't what's important here.”

“I expect not,” I agree. “But you sound like you're thinking of something specifically.”

“Your old man's a megalomaniac. He's interested in building himself up as a god. Maybe we should be focusing on mythology rather than history.”

Aleister frowns thoughtfully. “I don't disagree with your assessment of my father. But if the message is from Alodia, wouldn't history make more sense?”

“You're assuming it is from Alodia? If that's the case, why go through the trouble of splicing her voice together?”

“Perhaps as a distraction to anyone else who might be tracking her? If nothing else, the fact that her cry for help was not spliced suggests she knew the recording would somehow reach Jake.”

I'm still not sold on the idea, but whether Alodia sent the message or not is not my point. “Even assuming the message is from Alodia, that doesn't necessarily make what I said wrong. Don't forget she was the Endless. She succeeded in making a god of herself to the Vaanti. She knows how to build a mythology.”

“...She knows how to build a mythology from facts,” he says slowly. “...She knew what my father was planning. She knew he could be stopped if we had the Vaanti's help, and she knew that she needed to change the Vaanti to protect us.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Now you're the one who sounds like you're onto something.”

“As the Endless, Alodia built her mythology around what she knew would happen in the future. It's hardly an uncommon scenario to play out when one imagines traveling to the past, is it?”

I shrug. “Probably not. People imagine a lot of things when they imagine time travel.”

“Right. What if this message is the same sort of thing in reverse?”

“...In reverse? Like, building facts from mythology?”

He frowns, shaking his head like he's trying to dislodge a bug from his hair. “No...not quite. Or perhaps.” He blows upward, briefly lifting a few strands of pale hair from his forehead. “I think the metaphors are rather getting tangled up in themselves.”

“Yeah, probably,” I agree slowly. “But I think we're ultimately ending up on the same page. ...It's not history or mythology that's important here, but both together, right?”

“Yes! Precisely!” He snaps his fingers. “Ancient Rome's history is littered with apocrypha, especially about high-profile figures like Caesar and Pompey and Crassus. History and myth are already difficult to distinguish.”

“Okay, so what do we have to go on? I guess we can assume that Caesar, Pompey, and Crassus represent three different people. Or...factions. Seems likely one of them is Rourke.”

He nods. “I would put money on Silas Prescott also being represented. Given their long-standing rivalry, I would have considered him and Father to be shoe-ins for Pompey and Crassus...but the message states that Crassus has betrayed Caesar and Pompey, and based on what Grayson told us about his holiday encounter with his father, I think it's more likely that Father and Prescott are working together.”

“Right. If Grayson's suspicions were right, and we're right about what Rourke is ultimately planning, then Prescott has probably gotten in on the Janus Project somehow. From what Tahira said about their showdown, it seems like all Prescott wants is his wife back.”

“And if Father is to be believed, he can deliver that.”

“So, if Rourke and Prescott are Caesar and Pompey, who is Crassus? Who betrayed them?”

Aleister sighs, slumping back in his chair. “That is the question, isn't it. The possibility that we have an ally out there is tantalizing.”

“They might not actually be an ally,” I warn. “We might have a common enemy, but that doesn't necessarily mean they're on our side.”

“I suppose not. ...But returning to Caesar and Pompey for a minute, I think I might have an inkling which is which.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Caesar was the one who made himself dictator. He's primarily remembered as the politician, while Pompey is primarily known as the general.”

I snort. “I think I see where you're going with this. Your old man's Caesar, right?”

He smirks. “Precisely. And when you consider their respective foils, it makes even more sense. Alodia is my father's foil, both as herself and as the Endless. Especially as the Endless. The Endless succeeded in building herself up as a god, and thus prevented him from doing the same. Meanwhile, Prescott's foil is Tahira. He raised an army of criminals to take down her band of superhumans. All in all, they project a more militaristic image than the Endless and my father manipulating and influencing to gain power over each other.”

“Which is pretty much what the First Triumvirate did, isn't it? Manipulate and influence and all that?”

“That's pretty much what Romans did.” He chuckles, but there's enough of a pause beforehand that I don't think he's chuckling at the comment he just made.

“What?”

“Julius Caesar had two known children, a son and a daughter. And a few illegitimate children who were suspected to be his, but two that are widely accepted as his: a daughter, Julia, by his first wife, and a son by Cleopatra called Caesarion.”

“As in the Cleopatra?”

“The very same.”

I can't help myself. “Which kid do you think you are?” I ask with a smirk.

He laughs. “Oh, without a doubt, I am Julia. Born to his wife, but ultimately useless to him. No doubt he considers Estela his Caesarion.”

“Even though you both rejected him in the end.”

“Well, it's hardly a perfect parallel. Caesar never even publicly acknowledged Caesarion was his, and Olivia Montoya hardly shares my father's ambition. For another thing, Julia was married to Pompey in order to cement the alliance with her father.”

I snort. “Now that seriously tangles the metaphor. We'd have to rethink every...” I trail off as I realize that Aleister is suddenly sitting ramrod straight, his eyes wide. “...Uh...Aleister? You okay there?”

His eyes lock with mine. “...Blair. Blair Hall. ...Blair Hall is Crassus.”

Michelle

I check Tahira's wound every time we stop the car to refuel and eat. I have found her to be a very easy and relaxed patient, in spite of the rough environment. Clearly, she doesn't share her cousin's fear of medical procedure. She stretches out in the backseat of a car as I press gently around the edges of the wound with vinyl-clad hands.

“You're healing nicely,” I tell her. “Not quite ready to have those stitches out yet, I think, but it won't be long. Any pain?”

“Not anymore. I just need to be ready to fight by the time we find Alodia.”

I carefully peel off my gloves, discarding them in a portable biohazard box. “I can't make any promises. Particularly because I don't know how long it's going to take us to find her. But you are healing faster than an ordinary human being would.”

“Guess that's all I can hope for. ...I tested my powers at the last rest stop. I managed to fly and tear a branch off a tree with my bare hands, so I think we can safely assume those are intact.”

I pause for a moment. “...If this is too personal a question, feel free to tell me off. But if you did lose your powers...do you think you'd be okay?”

“Ultimately? ...Yeah. Probably. Frankly the worst part would be feeling helpless. I mean...before I got my powers, I was a business woman. I did some volunteer work in my spare time, and I worked out, but I never felt like I could really protect people from anyone who wanted to hurt them. Honestly, that's something I admire about Alodia. By all accounts, she's been a fighter all her life. The type of person who wouldn't hesitate to face down a criminal or a bully, with or without superpowers. On the night I got my powers, my friends and coworkers and a hundred innocent people were threatened by armed robbers, and my instinct was to comply with their demands so that they wouldn't hurt anyone.”

“That is a very sensible reaction,” I say firmly.

“Yeah, I know. And it's still the advice I would give anyone in a similar situation. But it's still nice to feel like I don't have to take that advice myself anymore.”

“I get that,” I concede and smile wryly. “And I certainly don't mean to imply that Alodia's courage shouldn't be admired. Actually, she's usually very good about recognizing her limits. But she won't hesitate to risk everything if she thinks there's half a chance of protecting her loved ones. ...Right now, she's a prisoner, and most likely, her best friend is with her. ...I don't know whether her being pregnant makes me more or less worried about that.”

Tahira sits up carefully, raising an eyebrow. “More, I should think. Right?”

“Well...in most ways, yes. Her being pregnant makes her situation a lot scarier to imagine. But I'm at least reasonably sure she's not going to take any undue risks when her baby depends on her to be healthy. Still...if they try to control her by threatening Diego...there are a few ways that could go. One, we find Diego hurt very badly. Two, she submits to protect him, but the stress has other ill effects on her health. Three...she fights back...”

Tahira puts a hand on my shoulder. “Michelle, I may not know her as well as you guys do, but I know her well enough to know how much that child means to her. She's not going to be reckless.”

I nod. “You're probably right. If I am honest with myself, it's the second option that seems most likely. The problem is that stress could negatively affect her baby as much as her. There is no safe way to keep a pregnant woman prisoner...”

Tahira squeezes my shoulder, grinning. “Well. Then it's lucky we're coming to rescue her, isn't it.”

Alodia

I'm dying. I can feel my body going cold as the blood drains out of me from the hole the bullet tore in my side. Jake's face swims above me, and I am vaguely aware of his hands on my face and hair.

“Come on, Princess, stay with me.” Agony flairs as the world tilts sickeningly around me, and I hear myself cry out. “Shhh. I'm here. I gotcha. I know it hurts. I'm right here.”

“Entry and exit wounds,” I hear Michelle say. “Straight through. Shit, I really hope this works...”

Darkness is creeping in at the edges of my vision. Suddenly, I feel myself growing warmer, and the pain starts to dull, replaced by a pleasant tingling sensation. The darkness recedes and the world reasserts itself. Jake has me cradled in his arms, and Michelle is beside us with one hand on my belly and the other on my back. A healing leaf under each palm repairs my torn flesh. Within ten minutes, I am breathing painlessly. Jake smiles down at me, tears still shimmering on his cheeks and eyelashes.

“There she is. Welcome back, Princess.”

“Hey,” I croak.

“How're you feeling?” Michelle asks.

“...Probably not up to running a marathon. But probably not dying, either.”

“Yeah, I bet. You've lost a lot of blood, so you'll need to take it easy. Unfortunately, I don't think a transfusion is possible. But at least what you've got left is staying on the inside.”

Jake eases me upright, and that's when I see that I'm not the only one injured. I frown.

“Michelle, you're bleeding...”

Michelle glances down at the deep gash on her lower leg and winces. “Yeah. Looks worse than it is, though.”

“It could still probably use a healing leaf.”

“Unfortunately, those were the last ones.” She shrugs dismissively. “I'll wrap it up. That should hold it until we get back to Elyys'tel.”

“...It isn't going to.” As I say it, I realize with terrible certainty that I am all too right. This is a memory. I have lived this before. I know what happens. Over the next two days as we journey to Elyys'tel, that wound will fester...

“Don't,” Michelle says firmly. “Don't linger here, Alodia. Don't think twice.”

“About what?”

“You're going to figure out soon what you're remembering. It's going to be used against you. ...You know what you are to us. What you were made to be. Let that be your strength. Not your sorrow.”

“Michelle...”

“Come on, Alodia. We need you.”

Diego

I found a couple pots in the kitchen. I used them and some of the bottled water supply to make us some ramen on the hot plate. We cleaned our hands with alcohol wipes from the first aid kit and ate with our fingers straight from the pot. Then while Allie slept, I went through the house and locked every door and window. The front door wouldn't lock, but I stacked up a pyramid of canned goods behind it to give us a warning if someone decides to come in. Only then did I lie down on the mattress beside Allie to get some rest myself.

The space heater I found isn't very big, but with the door and windows closed it's enough to bring the air to a tolerable temperature, and its hum is soothing. Exhaustion takes over, and I drift off almost immediately. I'm not sure what time it is when I wake up, but it's dark again. I find the flashlight beside me and ease myself out from under the blanket. I won't disturb Allie just yet, but we should probably get moving soon. But first, I want to make sure we can go out the door. I'm not going to make my injured, pregnant friend climb out the window if she doesn't have to. I grab the fireplace poker from beside the door and creep out into the hall with my flashlight shining.

I'm painfully aware of how much I'm shaking as I creep through the house, thoroughly checking every room. My breath is shallow with anxiety, my throat tight. I swear my heart is about to hammer out of my chest, especially when I have to creep into the cobweb-infested basement. But every room is empty. The cans behind the door are undisturbed. Relief floods through me as I return to the bedroom. I lock the door again when I get back in. No good letting our guard down. We're safe now, but that could change pretty quickly.

“Allie? Are you awake?” She makes a noise that's a cross between a moan and a whimper, like she just woke up from a bad dream. “It's okay. It's just me.”

“...Diego...?”

“Yeah. I'm gonna turn the lamp on, okay? It's dark out.”

“...We escaped. We hid in an abandoned house.”

“Yeah.” I flip on the lamp. Her back is to me, but I still see her flinch as the light floods the room. “How're you feeling? We should probably move on before either the original squatters come back or Fiddler and her goons show up.”

“...I don't feel right...” Her voice comes out in a weak whimper. Something cold trickles down my spine.

“Allie...?” I make my way around to the other side of the mattress and feel my breath catch in my throat. Allie's face is ashen in the harsh light of the lamp. Tiny beads of sweat glisten on her forehead.

Oh, no...oh, please God, no...

The thought comes before I consciously realize what's happening, but deep down, I know. I drop to my knees beside her and reach out to press the back of my hand to her brow. I almost yank it back when I feel the heat coming off her skin.

“Shit! Allie, you're burning up!”

“...I'm cold...”

“It's chills. You have a fever.” I leap up to move to the other side of the mattress again. “I'm just going to check your wound. I'm gonna have to move the blanket.”

She moans, but she doesn't protest, though she does shudder violently as I expose her back. I carefully peel back the pile of gauze and first aid tape. I can't help sucking in a sharp breath. The skin around the wound is swollen, glowing an angry shade of red. I cautiously press the skin with my fingertip. It's hotter than her forehead, and she flinches at my touch, whimpering.

“Oh, God...Allie, hang on, okay? I'm gonna clean the wound again...”

I fumble for the first aid kit, pulling out an alcohol pad and a tube of antibiotic cream as I try to swallow my fear and doubt. Keep going, Diego. Just take care of her. Keep her safe.

But she's not safe. We're not safe. And now our situation is worse.

God help us. What are we going to do now?

[hauntedbythefanficsofmypast]

Heart-To-Hearts

By BeeTeeDubya14

This is @thebigpapilio 's own fic! It is a crossover of Miraculous + Persona 5 as well! This is another submission from them! I read their first as well and this one really caught my eye. Once again, I don't know Persona 5, but the idea of Akira leaving his universe to go help the Miraculous Universe is really cool!! It also gives me a few ideas for AUs of my own! 😉😉

Even after returning to Tokyo once he came of age to move out on his own, Akira hadn’t been too eager to stop his activities as the Phantom Thieves’ leader. It felt like he’d had more purpose doing that business than he ever thought he’d have. If it hadn’t been for the government & the cost of stopping Yaldabaoth, he would have gladly continued to work in the Metaverse. Don’t get him wrong, he knew and accepted that it was a worthy cost, but he did miss being Joker and changing hearts…

He learned to be careful what he asked for when he dreamed one night of a woman calling out to him.

Chapter 1: A Dream Of New Beginnings!

Even after returning to Tokyo once he came of age to move out on his own, Akira hadn’t been too eager to stop his activities as the Phantom Thieves’ leader. It felt like he’d had more purpose doing that business than he ever thought he’d have. If it hadn’t been for the government & the cost of stopping Yaldabaoth, he would have gladly continued to work in the Metaverse. Don’t get him wrong, he knew and accepted that it was a worthy cost, but he did miss being Joker and changing hearts… 

He learned to be careful what he asked for when he dreamed one night of a woman calling out to him.

“Akira Kurusu, also known as Joker,” she caught his attention immediately with that, “I am Geretas, and my world is in dire need of your help.”

“What…?”

“I know you hold the desire to become Joker again, a desire I can grant at little cost,” Geretas’ voice echoed throughout the dream world, “the Metaverse will be moderated by me - I promise to use it wisely.”

“And how do I know I can trust you?” Akira inquired.

“I beg you to do so - my universe is plagued by a supernatural threat, and if the heroes rising against himare not given any aid, they will fall soon.”

“Another universe, hm?” Akira said quietly, “...fine. Let me talk with the Thieves about it.”

“I can grant you enough time to inform them of your absence, but I’m afraid I only have the power to send one person to my world…”

“Very well. Please give me that time - I should be ready in less than a week.”

“My world will be in your debt. Now then, here are the specifics…”

And so, Akira was given a crash course in the situation of Geretas’ world, as well as being told about how the Miraculouses in play worked. He was also told about the changes in his transformation abilities. The first new thing was that he could easily transform at will into Joker (and back into Akira). He would be able to summon Personas outside the Metaverse to fight akumas. Furthermore, his dagger & handgun would not be hidden as model versions in his bag like before - instead, they would appear in his trenchcoat’s pockets once transformed; plus, his weapons were unable to so much as draw blood, kill or dismember (bullets would dissipate into thin air upon contact) for as long as Akira did not desire them to do so. He would be teleported out of any Palaces he infiltrated if he ran out of stamina (meaning he would be saved from death) and not be able to infiltrate a Palace again until the next day. He would also know French for the duration of his time in Paris in order to communicate with the locals without arousing suspicion. 

“Thank you, Geretas, for giving me this chance. Keep your end of the deal and do not interfere other than saving me, understood?”

“You have my word. I do not intend to become the next Yaldabaoth.”

Akira could already feel Arsène’s power - reverted to the beginning as it was - returning to him, causing him to grin almost creepily.

“So you were asked to save another universe?” Futaba asked, “Lucky you, getting to go.”

“And what would you be able to do alone?” Akira teased.

“Still, if that Geretas chick gets the power or whatever it was to bring us over, don’t hesitate to call us over!” Ryuji exclaimed.

“Good luck, Akira.” Makoto nodded. Ann flashed him a thumbs up and winked cutely. Haru smiled a serene smile, as did Yusuke.

“It really is a shame we don’t get to come along, especially me…” Morgana frowned slightly. He’d be staying with “his Lady Ann” for the duration of Akira’s vacation, and now that Akira had let all his Confidants have a decent idea at least of what would be going on (which meant for his other allies such as Yuuki, Yoshida & Iwai that he was ‘taking time to explore something new,’ and ‘would be out for an undecided period of time’), he was prepared to enter the alternate universe.

That night, Geretas visited him again - this time, however, Arsène was waiting with her. Arsène transformed into his Joker mask, then floated towards his face, latching on and fitting as perfectly as it always had. Light trickled from the top of Akira to the bottom of him, his pajamas reforming into his Joker costume.

From behind the mask, Joker smirked.

It’s showtime.

Chapter 2: A New Worls & An Old Beginning

Groggily, Akira opened his eyes. He quickly realized that he was not in his usual bed back in Tokyo. I’m in Paris already?!

The sun was shining, at least. How fitting for a new beginning… yawning, Akira hopped out of bed, and on a desk he found a note and a large trash bag filled with enough cash to pay for him for a few months. The note stated:

Dear Joker,

This apartment is fully paid for, and you will never have to worry about rent or anything like it for the duration of your stay here. You have all the supplies for house upkeep that you’ll need, but the fridge is empty - you will have to buy food for yourself, as I don’t know what you like.

Taking his wallet and stuffing it with a chunk of the euros, Akira went to some markets nearby and bought enough groceries to last him a while. He also got some bread from a fantastic patisserie he found while walking around. The woman manning the register was quite kind, and when she learned he was new to Paris, she halved the cost of his purchases from her as a welcoming gift. Smiling, he soon returned to the apartment, and after putting up the groceries, he suddenly felt the need to go on a rooftop stroll.

Willing his transformation into Joker, he covertly hopped out of a window and parkoured around Paris. He stopped however, when he heard the sound of conflict from an alleyway below him.

“Please, stop! Leave me alone! I’ll call the cops!” Priscilla sobbed.

“The fuzz are my bitches. Now stop fighting me and start taking it!”

“And what do you think you’re doing?” a voice purred. The voice was decidedly that of a young man, but it was deeper and more dramatic than Chat Noir’s, so this man didn’t think too much of him.

Regardless, both him and Priscilla were shocked to see a figure swoop down and land in the shadows of the alleyway. He’d moved too fast for them to get a good idea of what he looked like, and he was mostly covered by the darkness of the alley, so as far as they were concerned, he was just a voice and a silhouette for now.

“W-who are you?” the man asked, more caught off-guard than afraid.

Priscilla could sense an eerie grin appearing on this newcomer.

“My codename is Joker,” he smiled, “Phantom Thief, Changer of Hearts, & Savior of the Oppressed & Downtrodden.”

Although he was confused, the man regained his composure and snarled, “And what business do you got with me? This is none of your business!”

“From what I’ve picked up, you’re hurting an innocent woman and attempting to force her to do… unpleasant things to you,” ‘Joker’ snapped back, “When you try to hurt innocents, it becomes my business. Here is what you will do - you will leave this woman alone, or I can assure you that you will regret ever having looked in her direction.”

The attacker paled, only to grow even paler when the local officer Roger’s voice called out, “What’s going on here?”

Before Joker or her assailant could speak up, Priscilla cried out, “He was trying to rape me!” in desperation.

Roger entered the scene, his eyes narrowed with fury. Rapists had a high rank on his shitlist. 

Looking at the attacker, Roger said, “Alright, stranger, you’re coming with me.” and dragged him off, presumably to face punishment for his attempts. Looks like he wasn’t buddy-buddy with the police after all!

Turning towards Joker, Priscilla was about to thank him when she realized something about the murky figure. 

He was already gone.

Now a few rooftops away, Joker smiled as he watched the cop cruiser carrying the man drive out of sight. This was a second success against scumbags like Shido - he didn’t even get arrested initially this time!

Now then, he thought to himself, let us return ho-

The sound of something whizzing through the air caught his attention. Side-eyeing the direction the sound came from, he quickly caught something small, red and round thrown in his direction with one hand. Upon further examination, it seemed to be a red yo-yo with black spots.

Wait a minute…  

Following the string, Joker laid his eyes upon Ladybug & Chat Noir for the first time. They couldn’t be a day older than 18. What the hell?

“What’s your name, akuma?” the girl in scarlet said, her tone confident.

“Easy now, miss. I’m no akuma. In fact…”

Chat Noir & Ladybug paused. Akumas always swore their allegiance to Hawkmoth with misled pride, and he would have attacked them or someone else by now if he was an akuma. However, that brought up a new question in such a case:

Who was he?

As if reading their minds, the debonair stranger smiled. It was genuine, but a bit unnerving in some way.

“My name is Joker. And now that I think about it… there is a deal I would like to make with the two of you.”

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

Oceans Away (DonnyxFem!Reader)

Requested by @cass-danvers​

@owba-chan​ @war-obsessed​ @inglourious-imagines​ @tealaquinn​ @struggling-bee​

Let me know if you wanna be added to the basterds, or OUATIH taglists :)

Donny blinked. How could it be? Could it really be you? After so many years? Across all the oceans? Over all the mountains, beyond all the valleys, the battlefields? How could it be that he saw you there, in the face of death, in the hall of Emmanuelle Mimieux's cinema, on the night of Nation's Pride's premiere. How? Then he remembered... his faint smile fading as he realized you were telling the truth. All along. Hans Landa introduced you to the basterds and to the spy.

At that moment, you saw right through their plan... And you smiled. Donny looked into your gloomy, joyless eyes, where he once marveled at the radiance of light and hope. Once, not too long ago. And he understood why it was all gone and forgotten when Landa introduced you as, "La mia fidanzata," His fiancee. The world crumbled around Donny as his eyes glazed over... Landa gave Donny and Omar their tickets back, and asked if they'd be gentlemen, and escort his fiancee to her seat, while he caught up with his old friend, Bridget von Hammersmark. Donny made Omar go back to the seats alone... Donny had some things he needed to sort out. Number one...where had the light of your eyes gone? ************************** Winter, 1939 Donny was uptown, running errands for his mother. He got cold, and had enough time to get into a coffe shop. There, behind the counter was a familiar face, though the name escaped his mind. You both graduated from the same high school a year before. You appeared, as if from thin air, in the middle of your sophomore year. Every now and then, Donny heard people talking about you. Gossip, mostly, about the strange, uptight Hungarian girl. ...Most of it was negative. He never really cared too much for gossip to begin with. He figured everyone was just being mean to the new kid, as usual, though he couldn't help but notice how much of it painted you as a liar. Still, he wasn't very intrigued by it... Just the pretty face standing alone, day in, day out, seemingly unbothered. And there, a year later, was the same unbothered, smiling girl. A ray of sunshine, he'd always thought. And yet, people treated you like you were from a world beyond theirs. "Y/n?" He remembered your name at the last second, and he smiled as he said... How could he forget? It was such a pretty sound, he thought. You looked up from the register, a little stunned that Donny Donowitz, was standing there, talking to you, even though he never had before. "Y-yes?" "It's nice to see you!" You smiled at him, though you were a little confused, you didn't mind seeing a familiar face, and being greeted so kindly for once. "It's nice to see you too." And just like, Donny became a regular at that old counter, every Tuesday, Friday, and Sunday afternoon, at 4 o'clock sharp, like clockwork. Every single time, it was a medium cup of black coffee, two sugar cubes, no cream or milk. Before you knew it, it was April, a drizzly afternoon. He came in as usual, greeted you with the same smile, made the same small talk, and politely asked for the usual...almost shyly, in fact. But no, you thought, each and every time. Donny Donowitz just wasn't the shy type... Or so you thought, until he finished his drink, as usual, and cleared his throat, which was most unusual. "Y-Y/n..." "Yes?" "Do you....uh....you...What time do you...get off of work?" You were a little off guard, and took a moment, but answered, with the same kind smile and warm eyes, "Six o'clock." "W...would you want to uh." He panicked...which you no doubt noticed, but woudl never admit for his sake. "Wanna get some coffee?" He immediately widened his eyes and clencehd his jaw in embarassment. You giggled, but nodded, "Sure." You leaned over the counter, "Except, tea is more of my...well cup of tea." He laughed, a little nervously, but full heartedly. And just like that, "Sundays at 6" became another one of your traditions. It wasn't quite a 'date,' and it never really felt like it... Though you wished there was more to it... And then it was summer, 1940. Donny broke tradition. He didn't kid you about getting coffee, and you didn't feel like tea. It was over 100 degres out, after all. He asked if you wanted to go out the next Friday night. He took you out to a carnival, and you got some lemonade instead. Then, it was every Friday night... Until one day, Donny was consumed by curiosity. Why didn't anyone want to be around you back then? He always asked you about Hungary, and you always told him. He never got tired of listening, and you never got tired of him....

But that night, he just needed to know. He'd imagined the blue Danube, and heroe's square, and couldn't get over the way you described Budapest. "So...why'd you leave?" You were silent for a moment, then shook your head with a sigh, "There are things in the world you don't understand yet, love." You sipped your lemonade, distracting yourself from the thought you inevitably faced: The lands you knew as a child were war torn and blood stained...and there was nothing you could do about it. Donny didn't quite understand. He chuckled,"Cause I ain't in college like you, that it?" You rolled your eyes and giggled, "No, it's because you're oceans away."

You led him to your apartment, "Won't your parents be-" "I live alone." You sighed as you unlocked the door. It was an odd, extra moment before you flipped the lights on. Donny noticed something even more odd, a brief somber shade in your eyes, just before your turned back to him, with the same familiar smile. He'd heard the news. Hungary had allied with Germany. You'd already heard... You already knew. "What's wrong?" "Nothing." Nothing Donny could understand, you thought as you slumped on your couch. "You can trust me, you know that." He crouched in front of you, and looked up at you. "Just tell me...Tel me everything." You sighed,  "You read the paper, you heard the radio. You know what's going on in the rest of the world, with the war and everything." Donny nodded slowly, "Yeah..." "Well...that's why I'm here." He didn't quite follow. "My mother's Jewish...she sent me here, where it was safe." He looked at you, and bluntly murmured, "You're not telling me everything." You nodded, with the same conviction, "You're right." Donny asked again, though this time there was a twinge in his voice, signaling his hurt, "Why won't you trust me?" There were things that boys like Donny weren't ready to hear, things people like you knew to be true. Things the rest of the world didn't quite know... Nightmares that had not yet made their way to front covers or news flashes, but were on the front lines and in homes far across the oceans. Things you'd seen, but couldn't quite explain, even if you wanted to, So you did your best. "My family is what I guess you could call nobility, back in Hungary. To keep power, with Germany and all, my father arranged a marriage for me, and an Austrian man for when I was old enough. My mother sent me away. She knows that... She knew..." Your breath hitched in your throat with a teary knot. She knew. You knew. And now Donny knew... You'd be forced to marry a monster some day. On that day, the beaming bright joy in your eyes would be gone, all for nothing. All for diplomatic bullshit. All for an abomination called Hans Landa.

But there were things you still couldn't tell Donny. Not without proof. Who would believe you? Who'd believe that you'd seen the blood, the innocence? No one ever believed you before...

You'd seen things. You'd seen shadows following you. You were being watched and you knew it. The game was over. You'd lost... It wasn't safe for you. And if it wasn't safe for you, it especially wasn't for Donny. And you told him so. "It isn't safe here, Donny. Not with me, not here...Not anymore."

"What? But I-" You shook your head. "Whatever it is, we can...we can go to the cops, ok? We can go and-" It was much bigger than the Boston police department. "Stay out of this." "What?!" "The world is bigger than Boston, Donny. Scarier too." You looked at him, and spoke bluntly, "And you know nothing of it." "Wh...what's gonna happen to you?" He knew you, and he knew you weren't a damn quitter. "I need to go." "Where?" He wanted to know you were safe, no matter where you went, and that you knew that you had him to lean on. But you were past that. It was a matter of life and death...and if your suspicions were correct (and they were) Donny's life was in danger. "Anywhere. Anywhere but here. Anywhere, where no ne knows me, where I can't be found..." You put your book down... It really was over... "Sounds lonely." Donny smiled softly, as he looked up at you, love in his eyes, hinting silently that he would go anywhere with you. To the ends of the world and back, if you only said the word... But you didn't. You pretended not to notice. "Sometimes... Sometimes it might be... But life is lovely, Donny." You rested your hand over his, "You just don't know it yet... You haven't lived. I mean, really lived." He sat on the ground, looking up at you. He looked around the tiny apartment, and all the memories it held. His world was small compared to yours... Boston didn't hold a candle to Budapest. You'd seen it all, done it all. But you were wrong. He had lived. Donny had known what life was, what it was all about from the moment he saw you that winter afternoon. He was alive every second he spent with you. He wasn't in college like you, he didn't know the world like you did, but he understood.

He wouldn't follow... He didn't know where you'd go, and frankly, you didn't either. But he knew he loved you. You both did. And that was what hurt you both that night...that last night... That last time he saw your eyes, beaming with hope and starlight. ************************************************** "So this is where you've been all along, huh? Oceans away?" He smiled softly, and your heart melted as you sighed with a broken hearted smile, "You remembered." He looked down. It was cruel and unusual. It was ironic. He found you, oceans away. And as he held your hand, he felt an engagement ring around your finger. He'd lose you to Landa, and you'd lose Donny to an inevitable fate. One you had no knowledge of yet. And for once, Donny knew something you didn't. "Y/n, listen to me. It's isn't safe for you here."

You couldn't help but smirk a little. It was all too familiar. You'd learned  to run and hide for years...but that was all over. You never really were safe. Not without Donny. And he learned that you were right. He hadn't learned to live, he hadn't seen the world the way you did until he went to war. He understood why you ran so far all those years ago... And he understood you were tired of it. But it hurt to see the gloom in your eyes, like cold charcoal, where there once was bright hope.

He smirked a little, as he rested his hand against your cheek, "I know you don't wanna marry that asshole." You rolled your eyes, as if that wasn't the most obvious thing in the world, "And I know you're up to something." Donny nodded slowly, and said, "You need to get out of here, kiddo...." You shook your head, without a word, without even a sigh. "I ran away once without you, my love. I'm not making that mistake again." He looked away for a moment, down at the ground, knowing that familiar thought that kept him awake on sleepless nights, thinking of you. His one mistake was not running and following you to hell and back. He wanted to live, really live again, and he knew he could only do that by your side. So he nodded. He gazed at  you intently, knowing whatever choice he made, whatever words he said next, he'd have to stick to, and would change the world as he knew it. He had his mind made up. It was you and Donny against the world. "Wait outside. Outside the theater...Ya might wanna wait down the block, if I'm being honest." "But-" He shook his head again, "Do you trust me?" You pursed your lips, and looked up at him with a soft smirk. The tables had turned...but goddamn if there was anyone, anyone at all in that god forsaken world that you trusted, it was Sergeant Donny Donowitz. Your Donny... Your love... So you nodded.

Donny smiled and looked down at you as he wrapped his arms around you, and did something he'd wanted to do for years. He kissed you... And naturally...when he made his way to his seat, Omar queastioned him about the mindless smile and the red lipstck stains smeared over his lips.... Omar also couldn't smirk as he heard the explanation and the slight change of plans.

  You waited across the street, and lit a cigarette as you waited, without an inkling as to what the hell was happening in that theater. You had no idea what the ungodly roar was coming from. Your hand shook slightly with nerves as you flicked at your lighter, and took a smokey breath. You looked up at the sky for a moment, for the first time in a long time, with hope. And in that brief glimpse that you looked away from the theater, all of history changed. Your life changed. Everything changed. Two figured emerged, like phoenixes, born into a free world at last, ready to take flight. Donny ran to you, taking you in his arms, spinning you around, kissing you... It was everything you'd both wanted. Donny looked to you, with that familiar smile, and felt alive the instant he saw the fire reflecting in your eyes... The same old light was back. Embers emerging from the dead coals, an ardent, aureate glow that kept him going all those years, and would keep him going for the rest of his life. As of that moment, as you and Donny gazed into each other’s eyes, you had your life, your love, and your world back...

And as you threw your ring into the hellfire, you took Donny's hand. Your heart was yours to give.

[fuzziemutt]

Headcanon Background

These are my headcanons following the world of “Do You Understand?”

This is just extra world building and character stuff that I didn’t want bogging down the main story or have established in there for future reference. Some of these headcanons are inspired by fics I’ve read btw. I might add onto this in the future.

WARNING: Minor Spoilers ahead - I do suggest reading this after the story is complete.

-this mostly covers Connor, Nines and Hank because they’re the ones I most often deal with. If anyone asks for the others or I think of some for them I might add em.

MasterList

World:

This is Post Pacifist route and everyone lives (best ending)

The actual events of the game take much longer, the revolution doesn’t end until towards the end of December to January.

Some events of the game went a bit differently since the time is stretched and because mister Cage is dumb. Like Markus can’t do the weird look deviation thing for funsies. And Alice is human (even if not shown). And there were more revolutionary events that aren’t discussed but happened.

Androids are also much more open about their inhumaness, they often act more human like around humans. However, while alone, androids tend to talk via their internal networks most often (some choose to outwardly speak only too, it’s just preference) and refer to themselves in less human manners.

Okay ngl I’m not gonna get into how to fix this mess of a world Cage made, I’m going to idealize some things in this fic (like I made a landlord nice and not much ACAB- or really any cop stuff), this is merely for fic purposes. I ain’t gonna play moral battlefield with Cage’s dumbass for what started as a vent fic. Just know I don’t agree with a lot of the decisions Cage made for this game’s plot.

Connor RK800:

The RK800 model was made with less articulations in his face so as to cut corners given he was meant to just be a trial. -He needs to consciously run facial expression programs and they can be quite awkward.

Same vein, Connor’s constant calibration, while also a stim, lack of tear ducts, and blinking glitch are also due to Cyberlife cutting corners

Connor Has ADHD because I do so he does too

He also stims by pacing or running, but he tends to do this in absolute private.

He likes to change his hair color quite often to differentiate himself from Nines (He would change his eye color if he could), he does have Bryan’s curly hair but he still consistently styles it to the game style.

His wardrobe style consists of button ups (black, white and floral), turtlenecks, a dark grey blazer, knee length black coat, black jeans, and dress shoes (often Cyberlife ones since they’re just slip ons essentially)

He has killed/hunted way more deviants (and humans) than in game Connor. When he isn’t with Hank, Cyberlife ordered him to simply hunt down and dispose of any deviants he could find. (they wanted results they just played nice with the law for show)

While he wasn't cruel and let all deviants he met with Hank go (except Rupert), any deviants he found while "off duty" did not receive the same mercies (some would even be found mangled beyond recognition). Hank really amplified the humanity in him but only when present. It was also easier to ignore orders when he had a scapegoat.

He also remembers all prior iterations of himself; while the corruption in memory is still there, it was used to condition him in “right” from “wrong”.

He spent a lot more time with Amanda especially during early trials as well so his loyalty to her is very deep and she is like a mother figure to him.

This is Connor model -54. Past 3 models deactivation: Fell with Daniel while protecting Emma (Successful mission); Success w/ Carlos’ android, but he still self destructed and got shot in the interrogation room when trying to stop them; Stratford tower kitchen but the deviant crushes his thirium pump before running leaving him unable to be saved.

He did go up to the roof and saw how Simon was left behind, but he thought about how Hank would be displeased if he killed this android in front of him, given prior results, so he left back to the kitchen last second. Simon knows he left him alone but he doesn't know why.

*pats his head* this boy can hold so much unprocessed trauma

Also this Connor is not an “uwu soft boy”, he is a bastard man. A nice bastard man, but a bastard man none the less. He will sell you to Satan for a single corn chip (/j). He is severely touch-starved though.

He is very bad at expressing and showing his true emotions in a way that makes sense since he’s spent the last, however many, iterations putting himself in a tomb of denial, fear and anger in order to survive. He often expresses nothing or in a manner that he feels will benefit him (arguably manipulative but he is in constant survival mode still). (unless he gets too overwhelmed by his own emotions like hella overwhelmed)

He wasn’t necessarily “deviant” when a machine, his social relations and general programming just saw the act of being more emotionally expressive as giving him a higher chance of not being killed by his handlers. Basically “if they think I’m like a cute roomba, they won’t kill me as easily”. He still experienced frustration, fear and other emotions he ignored, but he was under command (with code and external pressures), his own AI just got fucky and advanced without anyone realizing it (from trauma).

The books in his apartment are random books hes bought from a thrift store, but there are some mystery books and a sea creature encyclopedia in the mix. - The manta ray plush is a gift from Hank, the Whale is a gift from Nines.

Connor (Nines) RK900:

He looks and sounds exactly like Connor. Height, build, face, voice and everything is the exact same except he has blue eyes.

Arguably Nines’ system name is still registered as “Connor” but he just never felt the need to change it since he just goes by Nines anyways.

He has more articulations in his face, even more than the average android, and he tends to take advantage of this. He does feel bad sometimes after being a walking reminder that Connor meant nothing to Cyberlife, but they both tend to not want to talk about that and just ignore it. He doesn’t know how deep Connor’s jealousy goes though.

Given he activated deviant, he really isn’t sure what being a machine is like or having to follow orders. This sometimes is a disadvantage as he doesn’t get sometimes why androids, like Connor, would lean so heavily onto their old programming.

This also means, he’s very expressive and open about his emotions. They were free so why would he try hiding what he felt ? (This can sometimes get him in trouble)

Where Connor changes his hair, Nines wears very loud and vibrant clothing, if he finds a shirt that screams ugly he will wear it. His usual get up is asymmetrical colored button ups, whatever pants he grabs that morning, dress shoes (don’t worry they’re ugly too) and his favorite highlighter neon yellow and orange hooded jacket. He also tends to change into more comfy wear when at his room in New Jericho.

He is partnered with Gavin Reed, but those two really aren’t friends and never will be. Nines can handle him just fine at work but he would never invite that man anywhere near him after it. He is friends with most of the DPD. People find him really friendly and enjoy talking to him.

He also owns a cat named Clem, not much is known about her because she’s really shy.

While he still has access to the base zen garden program, the program is not connected to anything and never had the Amanda AI implemented yet. Since he was never rolled off the press properly and Amanda was set to change connections to the new model set when Connor was done, it never happened.

He was released from Cyberlife storage due to an agreement between them and Markus that all remaining prototypes would be released and androids would have access to the tower in order to produce biocomponents and parts (Cyberlife still owns the building arguably and has access to any info/security there though). He’s honestly not that close to the Jericho leadership despite everything. He talks to them every once in a while but he doesn’t actively talk to them.

Arguably yes he is one of many RK900s, but for sake of story, he is the -84 model of the series and the only one we will see.

Hank Anderson:

After the revolution, he offers Connor a place to stay out of worry. He won’t admit it, but he had a gut feeling con man wasn’t doing well (he was right)

He does work on his drinking problem, but he still has a lot of issues and sometimes relapses. He’s slowly getting better.

He’s like a dad figure to Connor but he isn’t his dad. He gives guidance, but he also gets that Connor is arguably a full grown adult even if he is emotionally like 1 years old. He kinda is a dad to Nines too, but this isn’t as focused on in the story. While he is a bit less grumpy (aggressive) enter Connor, he still a bit of a sour boot most of the time. He just is sober while doing it now. He started wearing a ponytail after the revolution to keep his hair out of his face. He lets Connor trim it every once in a while, but he can’t bring himself to go back to the short style. This Hank adopted Cole as a baby after finding him at a crime scene. He never got married. (He jokes about having an ex-wife out of a sense of compulsory heteronormativity and because it’s funny to him) He used to treat Gavin like a son of sorts before Cole’s death, but practically dropped him afterwards which is why Gavin is doubly hostile towards him. The house he lives in now is not the same house he lived in when Cole was alive. He also got rid of a lot of Cole’s stuff when moving (The toys and clothes he kept are in a box in the garage).

[angelkurenai]

Hurricane - Dean Winchester x Reader (Detective AU) - Part 10

Title: Hurricane

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word count: 5,074

Warnings: None

Summary: With one of the most dangerous serial killers on the loose and in your tracks you have no choice but to rely on the help of the police to ansure your safety. It doesn’t hurt that the detective in charge is the one of the most skilled there is and probably, well, definitely the most charming one you have ever seen. Or that his flirting with you takes your mind off the danger waiting for you right around the corner. & Based on: Imagine detective Dean Winchester flirting with you while working on your case.

Read Part 1 here! l Read Part 2 here! l Read Part 3 here! l Read Part 4 here! l Read Part 5 here! l Read Part 6 here! l Read Part 7 here! l Read Part 8 here! l Read Part 9 here!

“Why... what is it, Dean?” you looked at him with a frown.

“Maybe...” he blinked, clenching his jaw before he looked at you with slightly wide and certainly “The connection I needed all along.”

“Connection? But how could-”

“And the solution, (Y/n). The solution to all of your problems... to all of our problems.” he breathed almost in shock at the realization that downed on him. A realization you couldn't fully comprehend yet.

“Solution? What kind of solution are you talking about, Dean?” you blinked but he didn't answer as he kept thinking to himself.

“Dean?” you question without an answer “Dean answer me! Dean? Dean!” but he didn't seem to listen much to you as he set his glass aside, got up and walked around the coffee table making his way out of the living room you were just dining in.

“Dean wait! Where are you-” you groaned as you accidentally pressed on your injured leg. You limped your way towards his office, assuming it was the most plausible option judging by his direction.

“Dean? What's all of this?” you asked with wide eyes, seeing the mess of papers he had managed to make already.

“It was here, I swear I'd put somewhere here.” he grumbled “Son of a bitch, where did I put it?!” he growled, opening book after book.

“What are you looking for? Dean please calm down and explain to me.”

“I can't, I fucking can't! I need to find it, I need to find-” he stopped when he finally found the book he wanted, slipping through the pages a file fell on his desk. And as that silence filled the room as well.

“D” you whispered when you saw how he paled the moment he held the file open in his hands “What is it?” you whispered, getting closer to him.

“It was him.” he breathed out before looking at you “The reason why she's after you. It's him.”

“Him- who? I don't understand you Dean. What are you talking about?” you placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Chuck” he breathed out and you took a step back at the seriousness in his voice “It is Chuck that I've been looking for, the connection, right there from the very beginning but I couldn't see it. She's after you because of Chuck!”

“D-Dean wh-” you shook your head “W- what are you talking about?” you blinked, taking another step back and he looked at you in sympathy.

“(Y/n), I mean-”

“No, Dean!” you felt your head hammer in your chest and all the blood rush to your ears “What are you talking about?! Chuck is- he's my friend, he's a cop, a good one, he wouldn't lead her to- to me. How could Chuck be involved in any of this but-”

“They're siblings!” he cut you off “They're... siblings, (Y/n).” he whispered, when he saw all kinds of emotions flash in front of your wide eyes. Your wide glossy eyes he noticed as you gasped in utter shock, the betrayal obvious on your face, as you stumbled backwards. His entire body screamed for him to take a step forward and gather you in his arms, hug you close like there was no tomorrow and tell you that everything was going to be alright. But you raised a hand, stopping him before he could do anything. It broke his heart to watch you like this and even more hear your weak, little broken voice whisper to him.

“What?”

He took a deep breath, opting to look at the file and papers in front of him rather than you because then he knew he would break “He... obviously didn't want to tell you to protect you. That's what my best guess would be.”

“Guess? Guess? Dean do you hear what you're even saying?! You're- You're implying my- my friends, my closest people, the ones I considered like family from you, to Sam, Cas, and now Chuck have all just been lying to me from the beginning a-and keeping secrets?!” you ended up yelling, tears pooling in your eyes and the man winced, closing his eyes for a moment. Your words felt like a stab to his heart, because although he had started pretending as if everything was alright between you – he was desperate to convince himself of that – he knew very well that they weren't. And they would end up getting even worse when he told you the whole truth.

“(Y/n), I know it's hard-”

“No Dean, it's not hard! It's impossible! This- this can't be- it can't be true! Please tell me it's not true. Please tell me you-you're wrong. Please.” and he made the mistake too look you in the eyes.

A sob left his own lips as all of his strength faded away and without a second thought he actually grabbed you by the shoulders and enveloped you in his arms, despite any protests, whimpers or weak pushes “Please” you begged and he clenched his jaw, shutting his eyes tightly.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry. But I'm not.” it pained him to say it but he had to.

“H-how-” you choked out, clenching the fabric of his flannel in your fists “How do you know that? How can you be so sure?”

“Come sit first please.”

“Dean” you growled, glaring at him harshly, his flannel still fisted in your hands “Tell. Me. Everything.”

His eyes widened, understanding fully well what you meant “(Y/n) this is not the time or that, you can't hear what-”

“You promised me, Dean, you-” you clenched your jaw and then whispered hoarsely “You promised.”

“Alright, God, fine.” he tried to swallow the lump in his throat “Please, just sit. I know what I'm telling you, your foot's not alright either.”

“O-Ok” you whispered weakly in defeat but mostly fear and he instantly grabbed a chair to help you sit, doing the same himself. He took hold of your hands and let himself smile for a split second when you squeezed them gently.

“She was held far away from here, before all of these began.” he breathed out, locking eyes with you “Before even the police station was created here, she was locked somewhere where she couldn't do any harm. Somewhere where almost nobody could find her. A prison made only for the worst of the worst and she had a special place there two.”

“One of those places that officially doesn't exist?” you whispered and he gave you a small nod.

“Yes, there.” he cleared his throat “Her skills are something out of this world. She can manipulate people to do things she wants, it's like she... reprogramms their brains by using a few words. She can break them, make them do things they never even thought of, it's almost like she turns them into different persons... as if they don't have a soul at all.”

“Is that... possible?” you blinked.

“If people like Sherlock Holmes are possible to exist then everything is.” he shrugged “People can achieve just so much if they use their brains correctly. Anyway-” he sighed “Her family, well the only family member she had, began to see it from the very beginning that they were equally dangerous. There has been a report that said she was caught with a knife in her hand and when asked she only answered “I wanted to know what happens to a soul after death.” she- she was only six years old and she-” he clenched his jaw, looking down at your hands for a moment in total terror, and you didn't blame him. It was one thing kids killing people but when it was all so meticulous and well-thought it made you shake with fear of what they could really do now.

“The body was never found, nobody knows where she hid it. She's always hinted it, she's said, but all she did was sing a stupid song about it.” he shook his head.

“And how did she end up in her... prison?” you whispered and he licked his lips.

“As I said she only had one relative, we now know it's... Chuck. She loved him but could get jealous very easily. They didn't live alone, of course, they had both been adopted and raised by a lonely man whose wife died early. There was this one time...” he trailed off for a moment “The borther, the files say, Chuck we now know was having a party for his birthday and he had many friends over. Only thing it was when the time for the cake came... the candles weren't the only thing on fire. Neighbors had claimed that she was the reason why their house burned down, and reports did confirm it was arson. Nobody but the two siblings survived. They were soon lead to an orphanage where her... disturbing behavior didn't stop.”

“Anyway-” he cleared his throat “Those files you saw me holding were... confidential. Some of us try to keep ties with not just the US government. When it comes to people like Amara, and trust me there are others equally as bad or worse, it requires us to keep contact with people outside this country and even outside this continent. People like the ones in the UK government, some of them specialise in getting monsters like her down. So, someone actually let me in on some reports that had been kept hidden when she was put in her prison... Turns out her brother was the one that did it. Mycroft Holmes, uh the guy I told you about, had dealt with a similar situation of his own and he let me know that the person who put Amara in her prison was actually someone of great power, involved in Federal business he supposed, but the only evidence he had pointed to great power and access to said prison.”

“So who'd be better than the director of the FBI himself.” you muttered.

“Exactly. And when you told me you were... that close in the past-” he pursed his lips for a second and you raised an eyebrow at how clearly bothered by it he looked “Then it doesn't take a genius to figure out he's the missing piece in this puzzle. She is after you because you two were close, because she's trying to lure him out. She wants revenge for putting her in that prison.”

“Of course she does.” you pursed your lips, letting go of his hand “Gosh, I can't believe how naive I've been.” you buried your face in your hands, letting out a shaky breath.

“You're not, look at me here-” he growled and you obeyed “You are not naive. You are the best thing that has happened in my entire life.” he ended up whispering, taking hold of your hands again “You are a ray of sunshine, that's what you are. You have faith in people, you believe they can be good but not everyone is, sadly. Just because there are... assholes out there, doesn't mean something is wrong with you. They-” he clenched his jaw “We all think we are doing it for the best but in the end-”

“How did you meet her?” you whispered and his eyebrows shot up, his eyes widening slightly “Tell me, Dean. You can tell me, I won't be mad I promise you. I don't have any emotional strength for that anymore, anyway.”

He held your gaze for a few second before he took in a trembling breath “I was working on a case.” his voice was barely above a whisper and you leaned, giving his hand a squeeze “Serial killer, uh Abaddon was her name. She was... one of the most lethal ones, I'll tell you. I thought I got her once but she escaped. I uhm was going through a hard time then with Sammy and I... I was in a dark place.” he clenched his jaw, taking a long pause that made you worry for him.

He sighed tiredly, shaking his head “I wanted to get it over with by any means so I worked with Crowley. I'm sure that doesn't surprise you, now, but he was actually just my way to something bigger. He got me to meet a man, Cain was his name. He had the means to help me get to Abaddon, kill her and all, but it would come at a great cost.There would be consequences that would affect me greatly. I was reckless, as usual-” he gave you a half smile “And I agreed, without a second thought. I needed to get Abaddon and I didn't care even if I died in the process.”

He was quick to notice the scowl that set on your face and he gave you a reassuring smile “Don't worry, I'm alive and kicking, and you are definitely not getting rid of me anytime soon.”

“I hope not.” you whispered hoarsely “So-” you licked your lips “This means to find Abaddon was...”

“A person.” he completed your sentence “Amara. She... she was the means to finding Abaddon. I was given the accords to where I would find her and I visited her, talked to her about the case and all. She could within an hour predict her every move if we showed her where she'd been before or who she'd killed. We've had many close calls with Abaddon, each time finding her only thanks to Amara's help until in the very end I got her and I was able to kill her, putting an end to all of it.”

“But?” you whispered with a frown, fearing to hear what he could have to say next. The thought of what those consequences were making your heart ache for the green-eyed man.

“But it was far from the end.” he chewed on his lower lip “She wasn't going to help me just for my charming smile...” he trailed off, a deep frown on his face as he rubbed his temple with a frustrated sigh. For a moment you felt bad for him, sure he might have kept secrets from you but you saw it now, it was to protect you and maybe protect himself as well. This had been troubling him as well, obviously for much longer than you, and it only made you want to drop the subject altogether. He wasn't ready to talk about it, not yet at least, about the part that involved his role in this story because it was actually painful for him.

“Well, I know I would do a lot of things for that charming smile.” you said with a casual shrug, smiling softly to cheer him up and maybe drop the subject. It wasn't time yet and for a moment it worked because he breathed out a chuckle.

“Don't flirt with me, it's distracting.” he looked at you through his lashes, and whether you wanted it or not you felt your chest feel lighter and your smile get bigger.

“As if you don't distract me enough, yourself.” you scoffed with a smirk and soon a boyish grin broke on his lips.

“Do I, now?” he raised an eyebrow, biting his lower lip “Interesting information, then, just what I need to use to my advantage.”

“Oh please don't, it's not like I can get you out of my mind as it is.” you breathed out with a shake of your head and a wonderful laugh left his lips. A kind of laugh you had not hear in actually a while and that warmed your chest more than you realized was possible.

“I...” you blinked before closing your eyes in embarrassment when he laughed wholeheartedly “Probably shouldn't have said that out loud.”

“Man, I should get more bottles of that wine!” he grinned and you scoffed, kicking his legs with your good one.

“Whatever you say, not like I'm gonna drink it.” you scoffed, playing with your fingers “Dean-” you were ready to tell him to not insist on the matter, not now at least, but he beat you at speaking.

“I know- I understand that you want to talk about it, I'm sorry, I'm getting out track, I should-”

“No” you were the one to cut him off this time “No, I want to talk about it but... not like this. Not if you're not ready, I can understand now that things are bigger than me, bigger than the both of us. I- I mean, someone I thought was my family turned out is involved in all of this worse than any of you all together so I... I should probably wait before I can know everything.”

“But you asked for-”

“It was a term. But I didn't state when. Besides, I don't think I will be able to take more.” but deep down it was a lie, because you weren't protecting yourself, you knew you were only protecting him. It came naturally and it was all because of your feelings for him that, quite honestly, you could never fight.

His lips parted before he closed his mouth again, giving you a weak nod “Alright.” he whispered hesitantly “Alright, and I... promise you from now on there will be no more secrets to add to that.

“Sounds perfect to me.” you whispered, leaning in to peck his cheek before you could stop yourself.

~*~

“You know, if I didn't know how awesome the water pressure in there is I would seriously question the sounds you were making.” you could practically hear the smirk in his voice but at that moment, and in that very situation, you were too busy jumping like a scared cat with a loud squeak when you saw the doorhandle move to care.

“No, Dean, don't-”

“I brought some new... blankets.” he ended up whispering with wide eyes, blinking as you scurried to grab the towl and cover yourself up. Or at least as much as you could of your bare upper half, thankful for at least the blue panties covering your lower half.

“Son of a bitch, Dean!” you squealed, closing your eyes as your entire face burned in embarrassment “Do you really have no idea what knocking means?!”

“I- I-” his eyes trailed up and down your body, his lips parted as he gave you that subtle and suggestive smile “Apparently not.”

“Dean” you groaned “This is not the right time.” you grumbled, eyes casted down in shyness.

“Is it not?” he nodded his head, licking his lips and humming “Hm and here I was being hopeful we'd go back to ur kind of normal.”

“We are, we really are, but that doesn't mean you can be so casual staring at me nearly naked!” you protested, your voice slightly high pitched as he grinned at you “Damn it! Stop staring!” you squeaked out, cradling the towel close to your chest but it didn't deter him. If anything, not only did he not remove his eyes from you but also took a couple steps closer you, letting the blankets fall on the bed.

“Why?” he asked in a low husky voice “I don't think there is a reason to. If anything-” he approached you until your back was pressed against the wall “All beautiful things must be admired, right?”

“Yeah. Right.” you scoffed, looking down at your hands bitterly.

“Hey” he placed two fingers under your chin, tilting your head up so that you could meet his eyes “Don't you dare defy a Federal agent, I have the means to prove you wrong and oh-” he bit his lower lip “I'd love to.”

“I'm not that special, anyway.”

It was his turn to scoff as he placed a hand over yours “Sweetheart, if only you could see what I do.” he whispered and you let him take a full hold of both your hands in his, bring them up to his lips for a soft kiss on the knuckles. His eyes held such intensity that you didn't care that the towel fell down on your feet, which made a soft smile form on his lips. His eyes trailed down and despite how your face was bright red you made no move to hide yourself from his intense gaze.

“Gorgeous” he whispered, looking up in your eyes again with a tender smile and you chewed on your lower lip, shaking your head; making him give you a firm look “Don't make me do it.”

“You wouldn't want to-”

“God, you have no idea how bad I just really want to kiss you right now.” he breathed out in a hoarse voice and your eyebrows raised softly in innocence.

“Then... why won't you? You-” you bit your lower lip “You pulled away too soon this morning, I really wished you would do it again. Despite what I said.”

A boyish grin formed on his lips “Damn” he breathed out in awe “You're amazing.” and with that, he cupped your face and pressed his lips hard against yours and eliciting a soft trembling breath from you. You hesitated at first but your arms trailed up his chest and wrapped around his neck, letting your bodies press close together and when he wrapped a hand around your bare waist you shivered under his touch.

You took the courage to start kissing back harder, licking his lower lip and he gladly granted you access. His tongue toyed with yours as his full lips moved against yours. You were temped to bit them and you realized you actually did when you heard him moan softly. Dean's hand moved to your thigh and as he pressed you against the wall he brought it up to wrap around his waist, his hips pushing yours back as a response to you grinding on him.

Dean licked your lips, savoring the sweet taste that he didn't have the mind to savor the first time. He moaned in pleasure when threaded your fingers through his hair and tugged at it. He held both your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his waist, lifting you off the ground and carrying you on the bed, all the while your lips not pulling apart for a second. He layed you on the mattress, his body pressing softly on top of you as his hands held your hips.

“I've dreamed about you.” he whispered roughly in between the kisses “Wanted you. Ever since we first met, I was a gonner. Don't know how you did it but damn you got me sweetheart.” he mumbled against your skin as he licked and sucked on your neck now, he chuckled softly “I couldn't stop thinking about you.”

“It's easy to understand-” the voice was a low whisper “You simply cannot resist me.” but with those words it was crystal clear... it wasn't yours. No just by the words that would actually never leave your beautiful lips but also because the voice was 100% not yours.

As if electricity shot right through him, Dean's eyes snapped wide open and he pulled away faster than he ever had in his life. He stared with wide eyes as she casually rested her weight on the bed on her elbows, tilting her head softly and raising an eyebrow softly. Dean shook his head furiously, his breath having caught in his lungs and his eyes wide.

“No, no it's impossible.” he said in a gruff voice “No! (Y/n)-”

“Is it?” she breathed out “It doesn't seem like it to me. After all-” she shrugged “No matter how much you want to...” she got serious, dangerously so “You can't escape me. And neither will she.”

Dean awoke with a jolt, his eyes wide and his chest heaving as he tried to get as much air as possible in his lungs. His heart hammered inside his chest, painfully so, as if it wanted to break out of his ribcage and he clenched the blankets firmly in his fists. His eyes roamed around the room, trying to convince himself it was only a dream but it just had been far too real. Trembling he fell back on the bed, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes before dragging a hand down his face.

He clenched his jaw as the fear started creeping up his chest because he was fully aware that it sadly wasn't just a nightmare but a promise. Directly said by her or not, it was the bitter and very scary truth. And Dean knew he had to do something about it, before you got hurt beyond repair.

~The following morning~

“No, Cas, I can't just fucking wait!” Dean growled, pacing around in his room “He can't have just disappeared like that, we're a small town for fuck's sake.” he grumbled, listening to his friend on the other end “Tell your brother to get his shit together or so help me! I-” he took a deep breath, lowering his voice when he realized he could wake you up “I want him to have news on him by the end of the day, got it?” he ended the call with a frustrated sigh, dragging a hand down his face.

He turned around to make his way to the door but stopped dead on his tracks when he saw you resting your weight against the doorframe “So... disappeared huh?” you whispered in a hoarse voice.

“Did I wake you up?” he whispered with a frown but you shook your head.

“No, I couldn't sleep much anyway. I just heard you talking and I- I got a little worried... No luck huh?”

Trying to swallow the lump in his throat he tore his eyes away from your form and nodded his head “I texted him last night but got no reply and when I tried to track his phone it didn't lead anywhere. I called Cas just in case but... nobody's seen Chuck ever since last morning.”

“Of course.” you pursed your lips, nodding your head sadly as you looked down at your feet “Figures. Every man sooner or later leaves me anyway.” you laugh humorlessly and he clenched his jaw, glaring at you.

“Don't say that.” he was completely serious.

You shook your head with a smile “It's alright, Dean, honest. I'm just- Worried we are not going to get an end to this, that's all.”

“Sweetheart” he sighed, striding to you and placing two hands on your shoulders “I'm going to end this, I promise you, no matter what it takes I am going to save you. Even if I have to go through hell, I don't care what it takes, I won't let her close to you again.”

You gave him a weak smile “I know you will, I don't doubt that anymore.”

“Good and-” he took a deep breath “Just so you know... I never would.”

You frowned at him for a second before realization down on you and you looked at your feet with a sheepish smile “I suppose.” you mumbled, missing the hurt look that flashed through his eyes at your disbelief “But something else, more important, take your time. Just- take your time, ok? Don't... lose your sleep over this, my knight in shining armor needs the rest after all.”

He wanted to smile but his heart felt too heavy inside his chest “You heard me, didn't you?”

You sighed, looking down at your feet “I had gone for a glass of water and I- I accidentally heard you, yeah. I know that nightmares can be really tough sometimes and I- I just-” you pursed your lips, shrugging “How bad was it?”

“Nothing I can't handle. You don't have to do this to yourself.”

“But it still doesn't change the fact that I am the reason behind it. Dean-” you sighed “I can understand that you want to help me, and I'm... really happy about it. I've had my doubts and I won't lie I still do up to some point, but you gotta take care of yourself as well. If you don't then, as much as the feminist in me hates it, we're both screwed.”

“Alright.” he nodded his head “Alright, I hear you... I'll try my best.”

“Not what I wanted to hear but I guess I'll take that.” you nodded your head “Ok detective, let's put that aside for now and focus on more important topics. After all, when it doubt. Eat!”

A chuckle inevitably left his lips, as he shook his head with a fond smile “Woman of my heart.”

“If you have anything in mind, we could cook and-”

“Yeah about that.” he cut you off, his smile falling “I need to be at the station in less than 30 minutes, so I'm afraid there won't be any time for that. But on the bright side-” he smirked “You'll get to see me in action.”

“That... can have a double meaning.”

~8 hours later~

“All I asked for was some safety, some security, have you close again to feel alright.” you huffed, closing your eyes and wanting to rub your temple but it was actually impossible in your current position “This is not what I bargained for.”

“Sweetheart-” his voice came slightly restrained as well, and the movement of his hips against yours got a groan from you “Trust me, if I could have it any other way I would gladly take the option.”

“Would you now?” your said slightly out of breath, the smirk evident in your voice and Dean grinned on his own.

“Hmh” he licked his lips “No, no actually I wouldn't.” and him shifting made you bite your lip.

“Detective” your voice came out equally strained “Not that I don't like the position we're in right now, cause oh trust me I do.”

“Really huh?” the smugness in his voice made you glare at him.

“Dean” you hissed his name but couldn't fight a moan when his hands squeezed your hips.

“Sorry, just kinda got distracted. Tryin' to realize this is not a dream is kinda hard.” he gave you a chuckle that died out too soon but you actually laughed, letting your head fall on his shoulder.

“There better be no pun intended, detective. And speaking of which-” you bit your lower lip “Please tell me that is your gun.”

A small pause followed and Dean didn't give you even a small laugh before he whispered in a husky voice that made shivers run down your spine “And... what if it's not?”

~~~

A/N: Chapter 10 is here and there are only fie parts left! This is probably half the truth that Dean kept from the Reader and the rest will be revealed just as soon! For the moment I hope you enjoy this! Feedback is welcomed and tags are still very much open in case you want to be added! Just let me know.

@getlostinthedark @cap-just-said-language @catwithyellowwings @word-scribbless @carryon-doctor-lock @nightriver99 @timelady1140 @spideyxstan @agentstarkid @all-will-be-well-love @simpleboox @jaylarkson @cookiechipdough @alltimekp @a-dorky-book-keeper @givemebooksorgivemedeath @skeletoresinthebasement @sammy201d @akshi8278 @amandamdiehl @hobby27 @deans-baby-momma @musiclover1263 @feelmyroarrrr @sofreddie @skymoonandstardust @babygabrielle-blog @woodworthti666 @gunpowder-and-smoke-inofficial @erule @lizwinchester16 @itslunabitches @itsquies @justkending @fiftyshadesofrebel @love-my-not-natural-babies @outsider-underwater @deanmonandnegansbitch @kaylinfayezink @x-waywardaf-x @keshaia @moonlight-on-her-skin @happy-little-marvel

[sojourner-between-worlds]

Burn the Ships, Chapter Seven

A/N: Sorry for the delay; holidays are rough for me, so I didn’t even start writing this chapter until New Year’s Eve. XP

As a disclaimer, I know pretty much nothing about how the foster system works, but I just go back to Danny’s very true words to Lou: “He always gets what he wants.” I have no doubt that would also be true here. :P

Also, shout out to SilverLightRaita and their fic Crashing and Saving on AO3 because that was 100% the fic that opened my eyes to the possibilities. So if you liked this and want more after this concludes next chapter, be sure to check it out!

. . . . .

Chapter Seven

“Hey, Danny. I don’t think we’re going to make it tonight after all.”

Alex couldn’t help but eavesdrop from where he lay on the sofa, guilt settling in his gut. Commander McGarrett had been upstairs for a while, but now it sounded like he was out in the kitchen. He didn’t remember hearing the man come down, so he must have dozed off; Alex wished he could actually fall asleep like he longed to do.

“Yeah, he’s asleep on the couch. Can’t really blame him for crashing; it’s been quite a day.”

He had no idea how long he’d been laying there, but it had been long enough, apparently. The numbing agent they’d given him while getting stitched up had worn off, leaving behind a dull, burning ache. It didn’t really hurt, per se, but it was uncomfortable.

“It wasn’t hard. I just told them he’s a witness in a case and offered to keep him in protective custody. It’s Christmas Eve -- you really think they’d argue? Someone’s gonna swing by on the twenty-sixth, but with any luck…”

Alex frowned. McGarrett had said he wasn’t going to abandon him, but now that Alex thought about it, he didn’t actually know what that was going to look like. The future had never seemed so uncertain.

“Yeah, we’ll try to swing by sometime tomorrow, but I can’t make any promises. I’d better let you go, though -- get back to the party. Wish everyone a merry Christmas for me.”

The guilt swirling in his gut rose in his throat at the realization that McGarrett was missing out because of him. Would he ever stop ruining people’s lives by simply existing?

The couch cushion dipped near his hip, and a moment later calloused but gentle fingers combed through his hair. He couldn’t help but lean into it a little.

“Hey, buddy. Food’s ready. Think you can wake up long enough to eat?”

Instead of answering, and without bothering to open his eyes, Alex murmured, “‘m sorry.”

“What for?”

“You’re missing the party because of me.”

A soft laugh. “Yeah, well… I know I said this morning that this is an annual thing, but the truth is, it’s really not. We plan it every year, but you’d be surprised how many times we’ve ended up working so it just didn’t happen. And that’s okay. Sometimes other things are more important -- like the teenager asleep on your couch after getting shot. You know, the usual.”

Alex finally cracked his eyes open to find that the only light in the room now was what streamed out of the kitchen. But even in the dim light, he could tell McGarrett was smiling. He huffed, sparing a grin of his own. “Yeah, I’m sure today was a totally normal day at the office.”

“You might be surprised. Crazy things happen a lot around here.” McGarrett stood up. “So anyway, I’ve got homemade pizza out in the kitchen. What do you say we get some before it gets cold and put on a movie or something?”

Alex nodded as he pushed himself up with his good arm; even keeping his weight on his right, he couldn’t help but wince at the unwelcome pressure on his left. “Okay.”

Commander McGarrett’s smile turned sympathetic. “And maybe get you something for your arm.”

Now that he was sitting up, the injury was throbbing a good bit more than it had been. “Yeah, that definitely sounds good, too. Thank you.”

For everything, he wanted to add, but judging by the look on the commander’s face, he already knew. . . .

Steve was pulled from his slumber by the incessant vibrating of his phone against a hard surface, and he couldn’t help but pray to every known deity that it wasn’t work-related. Eyes still closed, he fumbled around the top of the table beside him and finally picked up the device just as it went to voicemail.

Peeling back his eyelids, he discovered he was still in the living room, late morning sunlight streaming through the windows, with his feet kicked up on the coffee table and one teenaged boy curled up under his arm, face smushed into his hip bone.

That cannot be comfortable, he thought as he brought his phone to life.

One missed call -- Danny Williams

No doubt wondering if they were coming over since a glance at the time told Steve it was after nine already. Rather than risk waking Alex, he shot his partner a text, complete with photo evidence of why he was choosing not to call.

A moment later, Danny responded: That cannot be comfortable. Poor kid must really be out of it. Dinner’s at 1. We won’t wait unless you tell me otherwise then.

Steve tipped his head back against the couch, gaze wandering down to where Alex lay, still peacefully oblivious. The kid had made it all the way through It’s a Wonderful Life and the Santa Clause before losing the fight halfway through the Polar Express. Steve had been surprised he’d made it that long with how exhausted he’d seemed. He knew he’d have to wake Alex eventually, but a little longer wouldn’t hurt anything.

The peaceful silence only lasted a few minutes longer before Alex stirred, slowly blinking his eyes open, brow furrowed slightly like he wasn’t quite sure where he was yet.

“Morning, Alex. You slept a long time.”

He slowly rolled onto his back with a grunt and a yawn, his eyes sliding shut again.

Not completely awake then. That was fine, though; there really wasn’t any rush, so Steve would let him wake up when he was ready.

The silence settled comfortably around them again, and Steve thought maybe Alex had dozed off, but after a moment, Alex muttered into the quiet, “I haven’t slept that well in a long time.”

That was… concerning to say the least. But Alex had copped to having nightmares already; maybe that was all he meant. “You usually don’t sleep well, huh?”

Alex shrugged. “Bad insomnia mostly, and when I do sleep it’s always...disturbed, so.”

Steve winced; he knew exactly how that felt. For the longest time, he had pushed down everything that had happened with the Hess brothers, but when he couldn’t anymore, he’d been subjected to the same sleep patterns. It wasn’t fun.

Alex finally sat up, scrubbing the grit from his eyes. “I -- uhm, I overheard you on the phone with Detective Williams last night. I’m sorry for eavesdropping, but you should go. Don’t let me keep you here.”

He hadn’t been expecting that to be the second topic of conversation for the morning, but he asked the question he’d been planning to, anyway. “Do you feel up to going?”

Alex looked up, clearly startled. “What?”

“Do you feel up to going?” Steve repeated. “Because I’m not going without you.”

“Why not?”

“Well,” he sighed, “we’ve always kind of had this thing between us -- Danny and I. As you already know, Danny is divorced, which means he only gets his kids for Christmas every other year. Since I don’t have any family on the island, it kind of became this unspoken thing -- that no one should have to spend Christmas alone. And Danny -- he’s got Grace and Charlie this year, so… It’s entirely up to you if you want to go over there or not, but I’m not leaving you here alone, either.”

“I’d be intruding…”

“No, you wouldn’t. In fact, Grace would probably be thrilled to have someone else her own age around.”

Alex studied him intently for a moment before turning away with a nod. “Okay. Then, let’s go.”

“You’re sure?”

“I want to.”

“Okay.” Steve smiled. “I know they’ll be happy to see you.” . . .

Steve fell into bed that night tired but content. He honestly hadn’t been sure how Alex would do, but he needn’t have worried at all.

“Hey, Charlie! Merry Christmas, buddy!” Steve stooped over to pick up the boy, and Charlie instantly clung to him like a koala.

“Merry Christmas, Uncle Steve! Who’s that?”

Steve turned to smile at the teen still standing awkwardly by the door. “That is Alex. He’s going to be spending Christmas with us. Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Steve chuckled as Charlie squirmed back out of his arms and marched up to Alex, completely unafraid.

“Do you like Legos?”

Alex floundered for only a second before he replied, “Uhm, yeah. Yeah, I guess.”

“Come on.” Charlie reached up and grabbed his hand. “Grace was building with me, but now she’s helping Danno, so you can help me instead.”

And that had been that. Steve had watched them for a moment, but almost as soon as they’d started, the tension had drained from Alex’s shoulders, and Steve had headed for the kitchen, confident they’d be okay by themselves for a bit.

As it turned out, they had been more than okay. Within the hour, it was apparent that Charlie had dubbed Alex his best friend for the day. He had insisted on sitting next to the teen at dinner, and when they’d made gingerbread houses that afternoon, Alex was the only one allowed to help him.

Neither Steve nor Danny could figure out exactly how that had happened, so later that evening, as they were settling in to watch a movie, Danny had asked.

“You seem to be pretty good friends with Alex already, huh, buddy?”

Charlie nodded. “Yes. He needed a friend.”

Danny smiled. “You think so?”

Charlie nodded again, his face completely serious. “Yes. So I thought I could be his friend.”

Steve chuckled. “I think you made a good choice, buddy -- a very good choice.”

Charlie nodded a third time. “I think so too.”

As soon as Alex had come back from the bathroom and sat down, Charlie had plopped down in his lap as the opening credits of How the Grinch Stole Christmas rolled. It wasn’t a long movie, but by the end, Steve could tell Alex was starting to drift so they hadn’t stayed long after Charlie was put to bed.

As soon as they’d gotten home, Alex had headed to bed as well; his arm had started to bother him again though he’d been fine most of the day, so Steve had quickly checked it, rewrapped it, and had given him ibuprofen before he crashed.

It had been a good day, and Steve hoped it would be another good night as well. . . .

Alex woke to bright sunlight streaming in through the gaps in the blinds, feeling surprisingly well-rested. He had startled awake around three o’clock but had obviously managed to fall back asleep. Frowning, he stared up at the ceiling for several moments before rolling out of bed. He hadn’t slept this well since before his uncle’s death; why was it suddenly so easy now?

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he found Commander McGarrett sitting at the dining table, sipping at a cup of coffee with his work tablet in front of him. If he was working, Alex didn’t want to interrupt, but he also knew he would feel awkward rooting around in the man’s kitchen to find something to eat; he didn’t live here, after all. Debating his next move, he stood there, one hand still on the railing, for who knew how long before the commander looked up and saw him.

“Morning, Alex. Sleep alright?”

Finding his feet again, he moved towards the table. “Yeah, thanks. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“You’re not. Besides, it’s paperwork; you can interrupt that any time you want, and I will thank you for it.” McGarrett stood up. “Let’s get you some breakfast.”

“No, no!” Alex was quick to protest, holding his hands up in front of him. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Do what? Feed you? Because I’m gonna have to disagree with you there.”

“No -- just -- I can do it myself. You don’t have to get up.”

McGarrett took a sip from his mug before speaking again. “Is that why you were standing there for a solid minute not moving? Because you didn’t want to bother me?”

Dang it. He’d been made from the start. But the commander had been nothing short of hospitable -- more than, honestly -- up until this point, and Alex didn’t want to put him to extra work. “There’s still pizza in the fridge, right? I’ll just eat that.”

The commander raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to eat pizza for breakfast? You’d really prefer that to -- I don’t know -- scrambled eggs?”

Alex had to admit that sounded good, but… “I mean, it has Canadian bacon on it -- that’s technically a breakfast food.”

McGarrett snorted, sitting back down in his chair. “Alright, have it your way. I’ll just go back to my exceptionally boring paperwork.”

Sighing in relief, Alex stepped around the corner into the kitchen, grabbed a couple of slices from the fridge and dropped them on a plate, then returned to the table and sat across from McGarrett. “So, when do you suppose CPS is going to show up?” he asked, taking a bite from the first slice.

“Hm?” McGarrett glanced up, pausing in his typing. “Oh, the lady was already here -- eight o’clock on the dot, as a matter of fact.”

Alex’s brain stuttered. “Then why am I still here? I thought…”

The commander folded the screen over the attached keyboard, giving Alex his full attention. “You thought you were gonna be shuffled off to another foster home?”

“I assumed -- I mean --.” Alex cut himself off as the realization hit him. He was staying here?

“I’m petitioning for your custody. It didn’t work in California to be shuffled around, so why would it work any better out here? At least, that was my reasoning. You need to be someplace where you’ll have time to settle and, Alex, I won’t lie: that can take months -- especially given what you’ve been through. And if no one is willing to give you longer than a week, then you’ll just end up right back where you started. I can’t promise I’ll even be a good guardian, but if there’s one thing I can give you, it’s time.”

He sighed. “Look, I’m not going to force you to stay with me if you don’t want to, but you should know that if you choose to leave, I’ll still be here for you, okay? You can always come to me if you need something or if you have a problem. I told you I wasn’t going to leave you on your own, and I meant it. Okay?”

Alex steeled himself, heart in his throat, to ask the question he was most afraid to hear the answer to. “What about Agent Branning? He could contest this, couldn’t he?”

McGarrett nodded. “Yeah, he could, but I don’t think he will. Even if he does fight it, I’ll fight back twice as hard, and I’ll keep fighting until it happens.”

Alex let out a shuddering breath. He had so many questions he wanted to ask. “Don’t you have to be, like, certified to foster though?”

“Also yes, but you let me worry about that, alright? You don’t need to worry about a thing; just leave it all to me.”

Alex swallowed harshly. He was not going to start crying again, dang it. But there was one last thing he had to know. “Why are you doing this? It’s just… it’s a lot, and you barely know me.”

“Honestly? It was the best way I could think of to get you out. I told you it’s time to burn some ships of your own, right? The idea behind that phrase is to move forward with no chance of going back to where you were. So if you don’t want to be a part of that work any longer, then I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you don’t feel like you have to be.”

Alex let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Okay.” His voice was shaky, but he was holding back the tears so he considered that an accomplishment, at least. What had he done to deserve this kindness? Absolutely nothing. He had lied and broken his promises and run away. Yet Commander McGarrett was giving of himself so freely anyway.

After a pause, McGarrett asked, “So, I take it this arrangement is good, then? You’re good? We’re good?”

Alex smiled and let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re good.”

“Good.” He flipped the tablet screen back up again. “Eat your very strange breakfast, then we’ll talk more, alright?”

In response, Alex picked his slice back up and took a bite out of it, feeling like maybe he would finally be able to rest for the first time since his uncle’s death.

Maybe there was hope for the future after all.

. . . . .

Tag List: @diekatimitdemhutohnehut @ghostly-homo @grungeweasel @just-add-butter

[juju-on-that-yeet]

There Are Worse Things I Could Do, Chapter 8/10

Summary: After days of loneliness and frustration and sad, circular thoughts, Yancy finally hits rock bottom and does something he can’t take back. Warnings: Strangulation, murder, blood Characters: Yancy

Read on AO3

Enjoy - or not, this one’s rough ;w;

~

It’s on a totally normal night – normal at this point, anyway – that everything falls apart.

Yancy is, once again, woken by a cop when he tries to sleep on a park bench. Yancy is, once again, grumbling internally as he looks for somewhere secluded to sleep.

“The hell are they talkin’ about, tellin’ me I can’t sleep there. What if I was homeless, huh? Then what? Assholes.”

“True, but you aren’t homeless. You’re just being a stubborn idiot.”

“I’m not going back! I can’t fucking go back, don’t you get it!?”

Yancy is so frustrated he kicks a pebble in front of him on the sidewalk. It soars into the road and lands in a puddle, so small it hardly splashes. He’s not sure who he’s talking to. He’s never sure when he has conversations like this in his mind. He only ever talks to himself like this when he’s stressed, and he’s been stressed for days.

“This sucks. This can’t suck any worse than going home.”

“Can it, though? I still can’t stop thinking about Lio. The only good thing about this stupid fucking city outside Ego Inc. is that I don’t have to avoid Lio in the hall anymore.”

“You’re being selfish. There are other people at Ego Inc. who miss you. There are people looking for you. Don’t they matter to you?”

“Of course they do, but I just…I can’t.”

Yancy is a coward, that much is not news. He shrinks away from authority, pushes away parental figures. He gets angry and tries to swallow the problems his anger causes. For a man so hellbent on being safe, on staying enclosed and crowded and away from the world, he spends a lot of his time in captivity running from different parts of himself. Not all of them; he would never run from the part of him that sings, that dances, that listens to showtunes and taps his feet. He would never run from the goofy side, the fun-loving side, the side that loves his friends. But the anger, the equal hatred and fear of those above him, the depression and drama? He’d prefer to be free of those.

But there’s nowhere in LA he can run to get away from his own shitty personality.

Yancy keeps walking, actively shutting down the racing thoughts trying to admonish him further. But if he can’t yell at himself for the situation he’s gotten himself into, all he can think about is Lio.

Why the hell does he still love him?

He doesn’t know how long he’s been on the run, the days have blurred together. But it’s been many, in addition to the week after his confession he spent tiptoeing around Lio. Why doesn’t he hate Lio for everything? Why can’t he just get mad at Lio for ignoring and avoiding him, why can’t he curse Lio for breaking his heart? Why is Lio so impossible to get over? But it’s not like Yancy doesn’t know the answers. Lio never meant to hurt him. Lio is probably confused and uncertain, probably really worried about him right now. Lio’s not a bad person, he just didn’t know what to do. Yancy hid his love so well, too well, and Lio didn’t know how to respond to it. Yancy can’t blame him for that.

It means that everything Yancy fell in love with is still there, unmarred. Lio is still achingly handsome, unhindered by any secret cruelty. Lio is still supportive, still caring, still brave and adventurous, still too cool for school in the most endearing way, still secretly a huge dork who loves his friends and only ever makes enemies by being too flirtatious, too affectionate. It’s always genuine, nothing that Yancy can hate him for. There’s nothing sour in Lio, nothing bitter, nothing mean. It’s only Yancy’s own baggage, his own stupid crush, that makes the good in Lio hurt.

Yancy’s so lost in his sad, circular thoughts that it takes him a while to realize he’s being followed.

Once Yancy notices the man matching his speed about ten paces behind him, a rush of anger fills him.

“How the hell did I not notice this guy? What does he want with me, anyway??”

“He probably wants to mug you.”

“It’s not like I have any money!”

“But he doesn’t know that.”

“I’ve been wearing the same clothes for days, and I haven’t showered since I snuck into that twenty-four hour gym the other night. What about me makes me look like I have money!?”

“Maybe he’s just an idiot. But he’s an idiot who’s following you. What are you gonna do about it?”

Yancy’s more angry than worried. He can take a few punches, and he’s gotten less pathetic at fighting ever since Yandere took him under his wing. But what if this guy has a weapon? Yancy figures he will if he has any sense; it’s much harder to threaten people with your bare hands. It’s so late at night there’s no place busy enough to escape to, no crowds to get lost in. The man continues to follow Yancy down the street as he wonders to nowhere.

As Yancy presses forward, contemplating his shit luck, he decides to get this over with and ducks into an alley. He hears the footsteps behind him break into a run, and whirls around to meet them.

“I ain’t got any money, fuck off!!” Yancy yells at the man.

He doesn’t even pause as he runs at Yancy, with a look on his face like he doesn’t believe him.

The guy’s a bit bigger than Yancy, so he can’t avoid being tackled to the ground. He struggles, though, flailing out punches and trying to remember the training Yandere gave him. He must be doing something right, because the man is unable to hold Yancy down and pull out the weapon – a knife, it looks like – in a sheath at his side at the same time.

Yancy hasn’t been in a fight like this in a long time. Even when he went out with Yandere and Chrome he avoided the worst of the action, mostly due to Yandere protecting him. In prison he’d start fights with every newbie, and he did much of the same when he first joined Ego Inc. But he hasn’t had any reason to fight since, and his blood is boiling with it. Facing off against the mugger, punching, getting punched, watching the mugger’s hands as keenly as he positions his own, looking for the best moment to buck him off – all are sensations that Yancy’s body remembers and falls into as easy as breathing, fueled by anger.

Even when he finally gets the guy off him the guy doesn’t let up, and Yancy has to block the knife to keep from getting his face sliced open. The knife opens a line in his arm and Yancy’s vision goes red. The mugger must’ve expected him to stop and cower, but instead, Yancy tackles him twice as hard as the mugger tackled Yancy before, sending the knife sailing out of his hands, away from the fight. But Yancy doesn’t need it.

He’s beyond angry now, the gash in his arm doesn’t bleed rage, it bleeds inhibitions. Yancy’s frustration at everything boils over: His confession to Lio, the rejection, the heartache and tears, his journey away from Ego Inc., his bad night with Danielle, every night after, every night a cop woke him up and make him sleep elsewhere, the stupid squirrel that tried to get him to go home, the voice of reason in Yancy’s mind that keeps telling him the same, the thoughts of Lio that chase it away, evading the other egos, missing his friends, missing Lio, still wanting him, still loving him, still being too stupid to get over him.

Yancy doesn’t feel human. He feels like a devil, like something red-hot and full of hatred, rage, awful angry adrenaline meant to kill.

Wait, kill?

Yancy comes back to himself to find he’s straddling the mugger. His hands are so tight around the mugger’s neck that they ache from exertion. The mugger is motionless. He’s quiet. His eyes are open. There’s no pulse against Yancy’s hands.

Yancy throws himself back with a cry, scrambling away from the mugger.

“No no no no no, not again, not again, not again, not again–”

He curls into a ball and he’s a teenager again, he’s barely eighteen facing his mother in the worst fight they’ve ever had, she’s screaming at him to get a grip, he’s screaming at her to shut up, she’s suddenly not angry anymore, just scared, but Yancy stays angry, stays angry, and soon she isn’t screaming anymore, and Yancy’s hands hurt, they hurt, they shake, just like now, now he’s done it again, he’s still that horrible person who killed someone, he’s still a murderer, all that time in Happy Trails and he’s still the same awful person he always was.

Yancy is sobbing when he lifts his head to see someone near the mouth of the alley. A young woman, phone in hand, eyes wide and skin pale. She’s calling the police, or she’s done it already.

“Kill her. Quick. The knife’s over there. No witnesses.”

Yancy curls up again and wails, wails over the voice in the back of his head that’s no longer the voice of reason. He screams with terror at himself that the thought would even cross his mind, especially after it did once before, when his father came into the kitchen and Yancy couldn’t explain, but the knife on the counter made an explanation unnecessary, and it was so much messier than Yancy’s mother and the blood never came out, it never came out of Yancy’s hands, it’s still there now, it always will be.

Yancy will always be a killer.

When the police come, he doesn’t bother running. He doesn’t bother resisting. He puts his hands up when they ask, he stays still when they put on handcuffs, he allows himself to be pushed into the police car, he remains quiet on the drive to the station.

The anger leaving his system has left him cold, numb, leaking tears. He barely looks up the entire time he’s being processed, except for when they take his mugshot. The whole series of events is familiar, and though the initial shock is wearing off, a part of Yancy is still back at that time, still a frightened boy who just killed his parents. The EMT who wraps up his injured arm doesn’t meet his eyes. The holding cell they put him in is empty, lonely, as lonely as he’s been since he left Ego Inc.

“Fuck, what are the others gonna say? What are they gonna think? What’s gonna happen now?”

All Yancy knows is that he’s a long way from Happy Trails, and wherever he ends up next won’t be nearly so lenient.

Left alone, he spirals, he goes back to loud, ugly sobs and begging wails. How did it get so bad? How did he go so far? How did he end up here?

Yancy, for the first time in days, completely and unequivocally wants to go home.

Eventually, so late at night it’s better called morning, a guard tells him he’s allowed a phone call. By then, the crashing grief has only tapered a little, leaving Yancy shaky and scared and weepy. He jumps at the chance for a call, not even caring that he’s being observed. When they lead him to the phone, he doesn’t hesitate.

He can’t call Lio, like hell he’d call Lio about this. He can’t call Magnum either, the man doesn’t have a phone at all.

But Yandere has a phone. Yandere will know what to do.

After he dials the number and the phone begins to ring, it occurs to him that Yandere won’t recognize the jail’s number. He might not answer it. The thought sends him into such panic that his heart cracks with relief when Yandere picks up.

“Who are you and how did you get this number?” Yandere asks, voice hard and cautious.

“Y-Yan…” Yancy sobs, and for a long moment he can’t say anymore, only continue to cry. It’s been so long since he heard the voice of someone he knows.

“Yan-kun!?” Yandere cries, loud enough to hurt Yancy’s ears. “Yan-kun, where are you, are you okay, what–”

“I…” Yancy sobs again, trying to force out the words. “I d-did something a-awful. Yan, I-I killed him, I didn’t m-mean to–”

“Oh, Yancy,” Yandere gasps, voice colored with sympathy that Yancy knows he doesn’t deserve, “You’re calling me from jail, aren’t you?”

Yancy whimpers in response.

“Okay, don’t worry, just – just tell me where you are. What station are you in?”

Yancy didn’t pay enough attention as he was being processed to get the name, but he answers Yandere’s other questions about the place as best as he can, through tears.

“Yan-Yan, shhh, it’ll be okay,” Yandere murmurs, clearly wishing he could offer physical comfort. “I’ll tell Yami what’s going on, and the Googles will figure out where you are, and then Yami or Wil will come get you. Just hang in there, Yan-Yan, we’ll fix this. You’ll be home soon.”

He says it like it’s that easy. He says it like Dark expunging Yancy’s arrest and taking him home will solve this. But Yandere’s not like Yancy; there’s something in his mind that lets him kill without remorse, something that lets him kill for fun. Yancy can’t understand it, the same way Yandere, as caring to Yancy as he is, could never understand how murder weighs on Yancy’s heart.

Still, the thought of going home gives him strength. He’s a little surprised at himself for wanting to leave jail so soon after going back. Maybe he’s changed, grown a little since he left Happy Trails. Maybe he trusts himself to do better next time. And besides, going home and seeing Lio is preferable to staying in a newer, rougher prison, one where Yancy would have no friends and no hope of getting any. He can’t fool himself: He’d be eaten alive in any prison but Happy Trails.

“Is Ego Inc. just the default place to go, then? Is it the lesser of two evils now? I still deserve to pay for this.”

“Oh, you will. Dark’s going to be PISSED.”

Oh, right. Yancy hadn’t thought of that.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place, Yancy sits in holding until sunlight breaks. He does not sleep, and his hands do not stop shaking.

[mynameispuppy]

Talking in Summer chapter 1

Hello! this is my first fanfic in years, I plan on continuing it for a while. I put information about reader’s quirk and such in my first post. 

                                                  enjoy!

As I start to fold some plain colored tees I let out a sigh, I've been on my feet all day and I can't wait to just go home and relax. An old friend of mine suggested me to the manager here at superdry© in the mall. I'm grateful to have a job but I wish I could be working closer to my goals....

Since I turned 18 and left high school my life has been just a blob heading in no particular direction.

"Hey (y/n) looks like it's 7 are you ready to take a 15?" I hear my co-worker call out to me from the front desk. "Oh- yeah sure" I politely smile back at her, she was always looking out for me with breaks and such.

After gathering my stuff I head to the nearly empty dining area in the mall. 'Only one hour left' I state in my head while I take a bite of my sandwich. I look around and spot nothing particularly of interest.

Except one person.... Next to the center fountain sits a man

I see him quite often in the evening

He's thin with strikingly white hair and dark clothing. When I first started to notice him showing up, I speculated he worked in the mall since he was there almost on a schedule, but the more I look at his appearance and the fact he has no uniform I assume he may be homeless or just doesn't have anything to do.... 'Maybe I should stop judging people so much' Old habits die hard I guess.

Looking at my phone the screen lights up '7:15... Good timing (y/n)' I shuffle around and grab my things. Looking back one last time the white haired man seems to have left. 'Oh well'

The rest of my shift flies by mostly because I just get to sit here and talking to Yume, my co-worker, while we clean up the store.

Just like clock work I head home at 8pm. Taking the evening tram about 3 blocks away and then walking the rest of the way.

I climb the steps to my apartment and stumble inside taking off my shoes and running over to my shiki futon shoved between my closet and bookshelf.

I try to check up on my social media a bit and check on things but my eyes quickly grow heavy "I guess it's been a while since I slept huh?" I chuckle to myself. Plugging in my phone I roll over and decide to sleep.

                                                ❁     ❁     ❁

The next morning is hot, around 33°C, so I decide to wear some comfortable, breathable clothes like my beige plaid skirt and a v-neck white shirt. The outfit reminds me of my old school uniform 'why not go all in then...' I figure and do pigtails aswell.

The trip to work is boring and repetitive. I wish something would spice things up...even a little. At least I get off early today.

I walk up to the big red sign of the shop and proceed in placing my bag behind the counter and sitting down.

Customers will come in check out a jacket or two and leave.

I finally get snapped out of my trance when hear my phone alarm go off "hm?" I reach down and realize I must've set an alarm for break without remembering. 'Maybe I'll go get some (favorite drink) I'm not particularly hungry this morning', grabbing my wallet I make sure my manager is all set before heading out. I take a quick little stroll under the open roof of the mall as I approach the brown fake wooden "drink shack" shop.

When I enter I see that it's still kinda slow since it's the morning hours except a couple people sitting in the back. After getting my drink I decide to head to the middle of the shop where I see a brown haired man sitting at the back bar and that same white haired man sitting at a booth.

I drink my (favorite drink) while keeping my locked gaze on the habitual man for a creepily long time. I was still tired out from my quirk so I must've been zoning out for a second too long...

He looks up at my line of sight and makes direct eye contact. 'I've never seen his eyes before... Red huh? Creepy.' I think to myself while he looks around him probably trying to see what I'm staring at. I try to fix the awkward situation by giving him a little wave but he just shoves his head back down into whatever paper he's scribbling across.

'sigh'

'you know what why not just get up and walk over there he could be a new friend'

I blush at the idea of being so bold I've never been particularly loud or extroverted before. But almost as if my embarrassment and body weren't even in tune I find myself approaching the man. I almost collapse on the booth seat across from him my legs shaking and hands in a clammy cold sweat clutching my drink. "......do..yo-you work here?" I force the conversation out trying to seem confident. His red glare slowly makes its way to my face "AT THE MALL I MEAN!" That came out louder than intended....I can feel my face get hot from all the cringe building up inside my body.

"Why are you bothering me." The words were scratchy and seem to cut out of his throat blunt and awkward. I start to wiggle uncomfortably realizing the humiliating situation I put this stranger and myself in.

"I apologize, I see you around here a lot I thought you may have noticed me." I squeeze out while looking at the table slowly scooting out of the booth.

"Right..." He trails "you work at that clothing shop next to the fountain."

I perk up a bit I guess he did take note of me. "W- yes I do," I stand up and bow "it's a pleasure to meet you officially." I scramble to be polite and smooth the situation over. "Yeah." He seems to be done with me so I nervously spit out "Well feel free to say hi anytime!" before turning back to the shop since my break was over.

I get scolded by your manager for being a bit late. But overall I'm over the moon proud of my confidence, maybe this won't turn out so bad even if he decides to decline your offer.

Quickly finishing up my last few hours of work since I only had a 4 hour shift today and decide to do some window shopping at the mall before leaving looking at other clothing shops and game stores.I had taken a study break from games, but since I have graduated, I've been trying to catch up by skipping sleep thanks to my quirk. Sadly I still find myself exhausted. Nothing catches my eye so I decide to head out.

Taking a stroll around town it's still quite sunny at 1pm, I decide to head to the park next to the local high school. A place I used to frequent a lot. Checking out my phone I see the headlines and new articles everyone seems to be in a frantic state "Destruction and mayhem..." I let slip under my breath while rolling my eyes.

This is why I want to be a veterinarian, actually be helpful. I always feel like heroes and cops are one in the same... Useless. While I start to bask in the sun I start hear squabbling between two males but their faces are blocked by the thick park trees. Leaning over I notice that one of them ran off. Spotting some oddly familiar shoes as the second person starts to walk into view.

To save myself any more staring embarrassment I quickly go back to closing my eyes at the sun only to feel the Bench's weight shift under my bottom. 'Someone is sitting next to me'. I take a peek and see the crusty pale man from the mall. "Hello?" I state looking for a response. With scrunched eyes he looks over at me and makes eye contact. 'he must not get out often' I think to myself.

"Fancy seeing you here" I chuckle to try and start a conversation. "Yeah." He rasps. 'is that all he knows how to say? What a weirdo maybe I shouldn't have approached him' I think before trying again at entertain him "Thank you accepting my of-ffer" stumbling at the end scared I might be annoying him. "Mmm" he grunts.

You're definitely annoying him.

"Do you want my number?" My words break out of my lips like water in a dam

'jeez why don't you just stalk him at this point' scolding myself.

"What makes you think I do." His words offend me in an odd way. "Well I just figured maybe we could become acquainted better that way...maybe?" Even I seem unsure of what I'm saying. Without another word he slaps his unlocked phone in my lap, hurrying to put my number in under (y/n) (l/n). "Feel free to text me anytime, I gotta head out." I say, I don't really need to leave but I'm pretty sure if I'm here any longer all my embarrassment is going to make me crumble.

bowing politely I turn to leave. "Hey." My head spins around to see the scrubby man now standing and looking at his phone, "Bye.", he nods at me before turning off and leaving as well. 'what a blunt man he must not have a lot of friends.... Oh There I go again judging I should really quit'. I seem to be filled with excitement though. Meeting new people is a rush I haven't had the pleasure of feeling in a while. I feel myself smiling all the way home.

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Two Hundred Eighty-Two: A New Car ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uchiha Itachi ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: The World’s a Stage ] [ AO3 Link ]

What’s the fun of money if you never spend it? Now, granted...Sasuke’s made some rather questionable purchases over the course of his career. But this is one he can’t seem to bring himself to regret.

He’s always been a sucker for cars...especially fast ones. He’s been to a track a few times to drive the latest and greatest models in horsepower, hugging curves and speeding down straight stretches. There’s a rush to going that fast and feeling the earth fly by beneath him that gets his heart pounding like nothing else.

So, after some debating, he went and got himself a speedster of his own.

A rockstar has money to burn, after all...isn’t it typical to blow it on stuff like this? At least he’s avoided the really terrible ideas like drugs or sex. A car might come with its own set of risks, but...he can handle them.

His manager (who works double time as his brother) is a little exasperated at the purchase, but in the end it’s Sasuke’s decision. “Just...promise me you’ll be careful with it.”

“I’m not that stupid,” the younger sibling assures him with a grin. “Not about to turn myself into a smear on the pavement. The only place this baby’s gonna fly is on the track, Itachi. Calm down.”

That, and...well, they live a rather large city on the coast, with miles of open desert roads not too far from the city limits. A notorious straight stretch has been calling Sasuke’s name for months. And as willing as he typically is to keep his promises to his brother...this one thing he just can’t deny himself.

It’s a hot, dry day like most others. AC keeping the interior pleasantly cool, Sasuke casually makes his way out of town to the east. There’s light traffic, but after a few offshoots...he finds himself alone. Nothing but him, the car, and the open road.

A grin slowly grows across his face, hands on the gear shift and foot resting lightly against the pedal. Then, the pressure slowly grows, shifting each time the engine reaches a new peak. Speed gathers seemingly exponentially until he’s practically flying down the roadway. A lightness overtakes his chest, and he feels a kind of freedom that - as of late - has seemed all but lost.

...that is...until he sees something on the horizon.

Fearing it may be a cop, Sasuke’s snapped from his euphoria, and quickly (but safely) begins to slow down. The closer he gets, the more it looks like a car pulled to the side of the road. Why a cop would be randomly stinging this far down the road seems...odd. Unless it’s to catch fools like himself looking to fly without wings.

But...no. That’s not a cop car. A little SUV tilts slightly down into the surrounding desert, clearly pulled over for a reason, flashers going and looking altogether in distress.

...this isn’t good. They’re miles and miles from town by now. Weighing his options - it could be some kind of trap - Sasuke slows and pulls up alongside the vehicle.

The driver’s side door is open, and from it, sitting sideways in her seat, a young woman is clearly just...waiting. Her head lifts in surprise as he stops, eyes flickering just as suspiciously.

Sasuke rolls down the passenger window. “You, uh...okay?”

For a moment she doesn’t answer, obviously not eager to talk to a stranger. “...it just, um...gave out on me,” is her eventual reply.

“Somebody coming to tow it?”

“Yeah, but...they said they won’t be here for another hour…”

“What?! That’s nuts! You’re gonna bake alive out here, it’s like 105!”

Her lips settle into a grim line. “Yeah, it’s...not fun.”

“Is no one able to come pick you up?”

“Everyone I know is either at work or...out of town.”

“Well, shit. You need a ride?”

“...um…” The wary look returns.

“I know you don’t know me, but uh…” He gestures vaguely, not wanting to pull this card, but… “I’m Sasuke Uchiha. Ever heard of me?”

“Uh...no?”

“I’m a singer. One of those Hollywood assholes. But I swear I’m not the kidnapping people sort of asshole. I just don’t want you stuck out here with no air. That’s torture. Look...you got cell signal?”

“...yeah…?”

“Text someone you know, tell them what’s up. Hell, take a pic with me to prove it. That way if anything happens, someone’ll know, and they can come arrest my ass. But seriously...I just wanna help. You look miserable, and I’ve got a fast, cool ride back into town. Take you wherever you need to go. Scout’s honor.”

She still looks skeptical, but...after thinking over his suggestion, she replies, “...okay.” A bit sheepishly, she gets out of her car, Sasuke parking his in front. Opening a text, she does as suggested, taking a picture with him and sending a brief message.

“Lemme call my brother, too - he can probably help sort things out with your car.”

“Oh, wait - that’s not -?”

“This kinda thing sucks. And I’ve got the means to make it a little easier,” Sasuke insists, cutting off her refusal and dialing the proper number. “Not to be an asshole, but it won’t be a big dent for me. I dunno your situation, but a little help never hurts, right?”

“Why are you...doing this?”

“Why not? You’re in a pinch, I can step in...why wouldn’t I? If I was a jerk, I’d have just waved on my way by. But I’m not. My mama taught me better. Hey, Itachi? Need you to do me a solid. I’ve got a lady here, her car’s broke down, needs a tow…” He moves his phone aside. “Who’s towing it?”

“Um...I think the company is called...Geiger?”

“Geiger. Yeah. We’re probably...I dunno, thirty miles east? Wasn’t paying attention. Yeah, they said it’d be an hour. I say bullshit. I’ll cover it, yeah.” He lifts a hand to cut off her insistence otherwise. “...mhm. Okay, cool. Whatever the shops asks, too. I’ll bring her in so she can get all the paperwork out of the way. Just let them know we’re on our way, I’ll handle the rest. Yup. You’re the best, big bro.” Grinning cheekily against the screen, Sasuke then hangs up. “All right, he’s gonna get everything arranged, so all we gotta do is get you to the shop they’re hauling it to.”

“...you really don’t have to do all this…”

“Consider it karma. I just got a new car. Yours is throwing a fit. It’s only fair. And like I said, I wanna help. My mom’d tan my hide if she heard I did anything less. Which...reminds me, what’s your name?”

“...Hinata.”

“Already said it, but I’m Sasuke. Nice to meet you, circumstances aside. Now, let’s get you back into town. It’ll probably still be a while before they get here and haul your rig back to town, so...anything you want or need to do before we get to the shop?”

“Um...no...the ride is p-plenty, thank you.”

“All right.” Slipping back into his car, he waits for Hinata to do the same.

“Wow, this is...really fancy.”

“My latest self indulgence. I was clearing out her engine when I stumbled upon you.”

“I take it it’s fast…?”

“Hoo, yeah. But uh...we’ll be sticking to the speed limit now that I’ve got a passenger,” Sasuke assures her with a smirk. Turning the car around, he heads back toward town at a much saner pace than he left it. “So...any particular smalltalk you want to try? Or should I just turn on the radio? Or better yet, I could put on my own music and be a real narcissist.”

That earns a soft snort. “Um...I’m good with smalltalk.”

“Cool. What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a florist.”

“Really? My mom really loves flowers. I’ll have to give her your number. She throws a lot of charity events and I bet she’d hire you on to decorate. Do you do that kinda stuff?”

“I...yeah! Though I’ve never done something that...big. Mostly like...small time weddings, or custom bouquets.”

“Gotcha.”

“So...you’re really a famous rockstar?”

“I’m a decent enough name, yeah. I’m a little wounded you’ve never heard of me.”

“Sorry...rock’s not really my genre. Maybe my friend Kiba knows you?”

“If he does, be sure to rub it in his face you met me”

“That’s so mean!” Hinata laughs.

“Tell you what, I’ll sign something for you. If he does know me, it’ll be a consolation prize.”

They chat idly for the next half an hour, getting into town and Sasuke pulling up his GPS to find the right shop. But before they get there, he pulls into a Starbucks drive-thru.

“Want anything?”

“W-what?”

“Don’t want you being dehydrated, right?”

Appearing a bit sheepish, she mumbles, “Um...maybe an iced cinnamon dolce latte…?”

“You got it.” Ordering hers and a plain iced coffee for himself, Sasuke hands her the drink once they’re through. “Get you a little energy and some liquid, huh? Okay, now we can head to the shop. Unless you’re hungry?”

“...are you trying to bribe me?”

“Maybe a teeny bit.”

Hinata has to fight a smile. “No, thank you...this is fine.”

“Suit yourself.” Following the route, he pulls into the lot, and...pauses. That’s...Itachi’s car. “...uh oh.”

“What?”

“Seems big bro decided to do this in person. That’s a little...odd.” Parking, Sasuke gets out just in time to see Itachi emerge. “What an honor.”

“I figured it would be best to make a more...personal impression,” Itachi assures him. “So, this must be miss Hyūga?”

“Yes, sir...your brother really saved my bacon.”

“Funny, I didn’t know he had any reason to head out that far,” Itachi replies, tone suggesting he knows exactly why Sasuke was out there. “...but I’m glad he was there to help. I’ve already arranged any and all payments, so you should be all set to go. They’ll just need you to fill out all the rest of the paperwork, including your insurance information.”

“...I...really don’t know what to say, I…” Hinata wilts a bit in disbelief. “...this is really, really kind. You don’t have to…?”

“Once I set my mind to something, I don’t change it,” Sasuke assures her.

“It’s true. Makes him a nightmare to manage, but someone has to do it,” Itachi adds with a coy smile. “And should you need anything else, don’t hesitate.” He hands her a business card, which she sheepishly takes.

“...thank you. Really, I don’t have any words. This is...huge.”

“Glad to lend a hand. And uh…” Gesturing, Sasuke takes the card back, scribbling his cell number on the rear. “Just for posterity’s sake. Or if you get bored.”

Hinata goes pink in embarrassment, but doesn’t refute it.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me...I’m afraid I have to be going,” Itachi then announces. “And Sasuke, you’ve got that recording session this afternoon - best to leave soon or you’ll be late.”

“Yes, Mom,” Sasuke replies, earning a small giggle from Hinata. “...well, hope things turn out okay with your rig.”

“Yeah, me too...thank you again. I s-sound like a broken record, but...really. You have no idea how much this means.”

“No thanks necessary. But maybe we’ll get coffee again sometime and call it square, huh?”

Hinata blinks...and then slowly goes pink again. Did he just…?

Grinning, he gives her a mock salute before getting into his car, waiting to make sure she makes it inside all right before pulling out and starting to head toward the studio. Sipping his coffee, he subtly nods to himself. A pretty good day, all things considered.

But something tells him he’ll have to endure an Itachi lecture later about his driving...

                                                           .oOo. 

     Disclaimer: I know...literally nothing about cars xD They don't interest me in the slightest (and tbh they kinda scare me lol), so uh...if anything about this is wrong or too vague...blame that, haha!      Anywho, a bit of a rockstar AU! Which I think I've had other snippets in, but...nothing actually tied together. This one, at least, is 100% standalone. Sasuke's one of those good guy rockers! His only vice is fast cars...and being a bit of a narcissist x3 But that's okay, we can forgive him for that. Look at all the good he just did! Also that smooth setup for a possible coffee date later ;3      Aaanyway, it's v late, and I'm pooped, and I've got a birthday thing to go to tomorrow, so I'd best sign off! Thanks for reading~

[queerhargreeves]

Finish Your Thought

Diego’s stutter resurfaces after the apocalypse. The siblings handle the situation better than he expected and they learn more than they thought they knew about their brother.

It doesn’t happen immediately. Diego, just like the rest of the family, needed a week or so to just sit on and process the events that just happened. They successfully avoided the end of the world. Five is back, but he’s not the same person they all remember and he never will be. Klaus went to war. Klaus is capable of so much more. Ben can be back in their lives. Vanya has powers, stronger than all of them. Allison may never speak again. Reginald lied to them all more than they ever could have believed. Eudora was dead. They were together again.

It was a lot to take in. That first week back together, the seven siblings were raw. They walked on eggshells around each other, not wanting to cause any more pain to one another. They had spent entirely too long doing that.

Diego woke up three weeks after the almost end of the world in his childhood room. He could hear the soft sounds of his siblings and mom making breakfast downstairs, the smell of bacon wafting its way up into his room. He smiled softly at the domesticity of it all,

“A family, huh?” Diego thought to himself, still unable to fully wrap his head around that concept. There had been so many years of radio silence between the six of them. So many years of pent up feelings and frustrations with one another and their respective situations. Sure, he’d seen Klaus a few times here and there, but the visits were never entirely pleasant. It was either an OD visit, which always ended in tears and unresolved issues, or running into him as he was too out of himself to even remember his own name let alone Diego’s. Yeah, they all still had a lot to unpack.

His stomach growling got himself out of his thoughts; his body is right, these conversations can happen another time. He quickly stretched and started his small morning routine attempting to keep some sort of normalcy in his life. He dropped down to the floor and did 50 push ups, 50 sit ups, and 100 crunches. He took pride in his body and strength, something he always had to work for harder than his siblings. Well, harder than Number One at least.

Once finished and feeling slightly flushed, he washed his face and teeth and threw on the first shirt he saw in his dresser. As he made his way downstairs, the current hot topic of conversation became more clear.

“Klaus we have been over this literally a thousand times. Donuts are both a breakfast food and dessert, not just exclusively breakfast. Nothing that sugary should be qualified as ‘just breakfast’. ” Ben emphasizes, a hint of annoyance in his tone but it’s mostly light, playful banter.

“Benny dear, I hear you, I really do. But why do cops get donuts for breakfast, huh? It’s not dessert breakfast, it’s a breakfast food!”

“Is this conversation entirely necessary this early.” Five deadpans.

“Discourse is always necessary, baby old bro! Oh, Diego!” Klaus waved at him from his seat on the table, literally on the table, with a grin on his face.

Diego waved back, beelining to the pot of coffee. He grabbed himself a plate of waffles and bacon, kissing his mom on the cheek as he did so.

“Children, breakfast is ready! Everyone go on and have a seat, I’ll serve you. I mean in a chair, Klaus. Diego here couldn’t wait another minute though.” Grace teased, winking at her son. He just blushed and sat down with his siblings, sandwiched between Ben and Allison. Ben didn’t need to eat, but he enjoyed spending the mornings with his family regardless.

Grace made her way and placed a plate of food in front of each of her kids, humming along as she did so. “There we are. If you children need anything else, I’ll be doing laundry.”

“Thanks mom!” Klaus called as she left the kitchen, his mouth half full of food.

They all ate in relative silence besides a few comments from Klaus about the food or the weather. Diego was appreciative for the useless banter, not that he’d ever admit it out loud. After everything, Klaus was still Klaus.

“Could you p-pass the syrup V-v-van” Diego cut himself off, mortified. Six heads whipped around to stare at their brother, their faces littered with different degrees of concern. Their brother hadn’t spoken all morning, but that wasn't too unusual. He wasn’t a morning person. This, however, was concerning.

“Hey, hey no it’s okay. Finish your thought, Diego.” Klaus spoke up softly, his tone missing it’s usual sarcasm. Diego clenched his jaw, that statement all too familiar.

A lot of the times his siblings would try to finish the sentence for Diego when he would struggle to vocalize his thoughts properly. Usually Luther, out of annoyance. But Klaus was always the first one to shut his siblings up, insisting they give Diego the agency to finish his own thought. Diego was always grateful for Klaus for that, for never judging him. For being there.

“I d-don’t know w-w-w-why,” Diego let out a frustrated groan, slamming his knife (well, the knife from Grace’s kitchen set) in the table. Allison softly grabbed his wrist, trying to get his fist to uncurl so tightly around the utensil. He met his sisters eyes, filled with nothing but kind, non judgemental compassion.

“It’s okay.” She mouthed, rubbing circles on top of his hand. She never understood what not having control over your voice felt like. It was a privilege, something she always dismissed when they were kids. She felt horrible about how easily she was to pass judgement 15 years ago.

“Diego,” Five started gently, talking almost as if was approaching a feral animal. To be fair, Diego’s temper sometimes made him act like one. “If I may, I believe this may be a residual side effect of the last couple of weeks. Your stutter only comes out now under a heavy amount of distress, correct?”

Diego nodded, his shoulders still hunched. They all noted how he was continuing to curl in on himself, almost fearing the reaction of his siblings. God, had they really been that cruel before?

“Well, all things considered, I’d definitely count the events we’ve experienced as very distressing. Your disability is not your fault, Diego. I had a lot of time to read in the apocalypse. Being alone permits you a lot of free time, you know?” Five looked down, tugging at the end of his sleeve with his hand. He hadn’t talk about what he experienced during the apocalypse much, this vulnerability rare.

“I found a book on speech disorders in the library. It was one of the only ones that survived. I um,” He cleared his throat, “I learned a lot about speech impediments and the underlying neurological causes. It certainly opened my eyes.”

“Why don’t we wait it out and play it by ear,” Five continued, waving his hand in the air. “If it persists, we can help you work on it if you so wish to choose.”

Before Diego could respond, Luther spoke up.

“I don’t want to make the same mistakes I did the first time, Diego. Dad always said that you were lazy, not trying hard enough.” He shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable showing this amount of emotion, “But Dad has been wrong about a lot of things. And that was one of them.”

Diego’s mouth gaped open, his brows furrowed in confusion. Luther, the oh so obedient soldier, admitted he was wrong. And that Reginald was wrong. To his face, in front of everyone. This was certainly a new development for their family.

“I appreciate th-that, Luther and F-f-f-” He found himself once again cutting the sentence off, hoping they got the idea. Diego couldn’t help but feel ashamed of his impediment, even after hearing his brothers talk so candidly. Call it years of trauma from Reginald, drilling the thought of his stutter being his fault into his head. He’d been beaten, belittled, and mocked tirelessly for it as a child. Anytime he stumbled over his words, whether it was in front of Eudora or his family, he couldn’t help but feel that stomach dropping anxiety that lingered from his childhood.

“Diego, please. It’s okay. Go on, finish your thought.” Vanya said gently, insisting her brother he was safe to speak.

“Reginald l-l-locked me in the t-t-tank for seven h-hours once a-after I st-stuttered during an interview.” He chuckled lightly, his grip on Allison’s hand tightening ever so slightly, “E-everytime h-he heard me, I’d g-g-get sh-shit for it, you know? S-slapped, w-whipped, mocked. It’s f-fucked.”

The sibling were silent, sitting appalled in their seats as their brother’s story unfolded before them. They knew Reggie wasn’t a fan of his speech, but they didn’t realize he went to such extreme lengths to punish Diego.

“Speech th-therapy h-h-helped. It still should, I know all th-the tr-tricks. M-my trigger l-letters.” He felt himself getting more frustrated as he went on, “I d-don’t know w-w-why they’re not w-working.”

“Hey, we’ll help you figure it out, okay?” Ben reached across the table and pat his hand that was intertwined in Allison’s, relishing in the fact that he could physically comfort his siblings again.

“We have to help Vanya reign in her powers, help Klaus explore his. Helping you with your speech is literally the least of our worries.” Five quipped, his dimple prominent with that shit eating grin on his face.

“My dear Van-Van and I will be the biggest hurdle, my good brother.” Klaus said with pride, clapping triumphantly at his chest. The rest of the family burst into laughter.

“You mean you will be, Klaus.” Ben jested, causing an offended squeal and a blueberry to the face from the dramatic man.

“You wound me! Did I ever tell you guys about the time Benny here convinced me to wax my ass with chocolate pudding? Because let me tell you, it hurt like hell!”

Diego felt himself relax as the topic of conversation shifted to something more light, thankful again for his eccentric brother. He was feeling a lot lighter himself compared to the start of breakfast. He kept having to remind himself that the Hargreeves are not the same people they were a few weeks ago, and thank god for it. He loved his family and they loved him. Things were starting to be okay.