#staple this and staple that and sit cross legged on the floor and remove staples from letters for five minutes and then

[whatareyoudoingwithamaserati]

Display day is my favourite day in the library and I will DIE ON THIS HILL!!!!!!!!

[masterwords]

What if Hotch and Morgan accidentally mix up their bags. Maybe Morgan is getting out of the shower by the time he realises he's got Hotch's clothes and his old ones are covered in dirt from travelling to a dump site.

Okay so this one went right into my brain the minute I saw it and I sprinted it in two 20 minute sessions so it isn't pretty and it is far from poetry but...I just adore the idea so much. Considering the awful things I have to write in the couple of chapter stories that need updates, this was a REALLY nice and much needed break. So...THANK YOU for sending this to me. You made my night. I hope you enjoy where I took it.

Words: ~1600

Pairings: Hotch/Morgan

Warnings: a kinda funny timed erection/masturbation & some dog bites/stitches at the end

**

It was a long damn day. That was all Derek could think as he waited for the water to heat up. He'd been dreaming of this shower after a day of running around through swampy woodlands.

When they caught this unsub, he was going to have some serious words for him. For starters, his feet were blistered and raw, and his boots were ruined. His favorite boots. He'd wiped them off the best he could and set them beside the heater in the window to try and dry out, but he held little hope they'd ever be right again.

And that infuriated him to no end. He hoped desperately that the shower helped his piss poor mood, because he had two hours and then he had to get back to the station. Two hours to remove mud from every nook and cranny and hopefully get a little sleep while he was at it.

It did help. Water poured over him, nearly hot enough to burn him if he let it stay in one spot too long, and when he'd finished with the soap he even gave himself permission to sit on the floor of the tub and just indulge a few minutes of sensory deprivation...just water coursing down over his head, eyes closed, breathing through drenched lips with his knees pulled to his chest. It worked wonders, at least until his butt started to go numb and he had to shift, to stretch out his legs and wiggle his toes and finally get out of the watery sanctuary.

His go-bag was waiting for him on his bed, untouched from the moment he'd arrived. Naked, he wandered through the room basking in the warmth on his damp skin while he sucked down a huge glass of water. He was parched and drank another glass before he felt better. Human again. And he still had an hour and a half before he had to be back to the station so he sprawled out still naked on the bed like a starfish and fell fast asleep with his alarm set for a half hour. That would be plenty, just a refresh. He could sleep anywhere.

Waking from a dreamless sleep, he rolled on his side and glanced at the clock just to be sure. Double check the time. The last thing he wanted to do was be late and piss anyone off. Still plenty of time. He hit snooze and let himself take another ten minutes. It was less restful but the freedom to do it felt almost decadent.

That sinfully good feeling of sleep slipped from him quickly when he opened his go-bag, expecting to pull out his gray sweater and black cargo pants, a staple. Warm enough to be comfortable in this region, nice enough to be casual but not overly so...but instead he found plastic dry cleaner bags with crisp starched button downs and slacks. Fuck.

Immediately, because he really couldn't think of anything else to do, he texted Hotch.

Think our bags got switched. Sorry man. You able to bring me mine?

He waited, cross-legged and naked on his bed. Hotch was always attached to his phone, he didn't let it worry him. Except no return text came. Nothing. Complete silence. So he tried again, and when that failed, he tried calling and was surprised to find it had gone straight to voicemail. Fuck...fuck double fuck.

He thought about calling Rossi, he'd been with Hotch all morning, maybe he'd know...but Rossi's phone went straight to voicemail too. Now he was worried and pissed off. If he and Hotch were even relatively the same size he probably couldn't be too concerned but the idea that he'd be comfortable in those tailored slacks and crisp shirts was absurd.

He also didn't have a choice. Two of his teammates weren't picking up their phones, and it was possible they were just out of reception range but it was also possible they were in trouble.

He pushed past Hotch's boxers and ripped open the pants bag, tugging them on with a grunt. If his clothes were even a little bit wearable again he wouldn't bother but they were soaking wet and filthy. More than that, they'd already been picked up by the hotel's laundry service. He could go naked, he could hide in his room, or he could stuff himself into Hotch's clothes and make the best of it.

The pants were tight but not as bad as he'd envisioned, it was the shirt that tugged uncomfortably beneath his armpits and hugged his biceps too tight. He was going to tear right out of this thing like the Hulk.

He didn't look half bad, though. He couldn't breathe or he'd pop a button, but he looked good. Slick. Hotch wore fucking nice suits. He always knew that, of course, but he'd never felt that fabric against his skin. It was odd, the knowledge that this shirt and these pants had been tailored to fit every curve of Hotch's body and while he destroyed their integrity, feeling those places gave him pleasure. The narrow angle of his hips, how lean Hotch was, it was so unlike him but it almost felt like having the other man against him and it was with no small amount of irritation that he realized he was feeling a little fuller in the pants than before. Now was not the time for an erection. He closed his eyes and smashed his hand against it, humming an old hymn his grandmother used to sing him like it might help. Then he recited some football stats and walked around, trying to shake it out. What the fuck was wrong with him?

They'd been seeing eachother for a little while, which would explain the stupid bag mix-up, but he'd always been in total control of his body before. Then again, he'd never gone commando in Hotch's pants before. This was ridiculous. The type of situation a thirteen year old with no control over their bodies or minds got into, not a full grown man.

Yet here he was. So, he did the only thing he could think to do...he unzipped the pants, let them drop, and dealt with the situation rather than fighting it. Faster, more efficient, and maybe he'd finally achieve that better mood. At this point he just felt like he was the butt of a cosmic joke.

He only hoped Hotch wouldn't be angry. This wasn't exactly going to prove that they'd been sleeping together, it could be an innocent mix up on the jet or in the SUV, but it was definitely going to put ideas into heads that he didn't want there. And Hotch would be more than a little upset at losing that control.

There wasn't anything he could do though, because Spencer was knocking at the door telling him it was time to head back. And when Spencer saw him in Hotch's clothes, looked him up and down with his brows drawn together in that confused look he got when he was putting together pieces to a puzzle that didn't make any damn sense...well he just smiled and shrugged and said don't worry about it, kid.

As it turned out, Hotch and Rossi's phones were off because they had gotten into trouble. The kind that landed them in an Urgent Care soaking wet getting stitches and antibiotics. Hotch glared at Derek in his clothes but didn't want to share much of the story, which didn't bother anyone too much because Rossi recanted the whole thing in grave detail. They'd stumbled on the unsub, and the K9 units managed to get him down but not before the unsub's dogs tore through them. Hotch had a wicked bite on his forearm and Rossi's calf was ripped up.

“Is that my shirt?” Hotch asked while the medical assistant cleaned his wound and prepared it for the nurse and her stitches. Derek pursed his lips and twitched his eyebrows, gave him that what the hell do you think? look and sighed. “It looks nice on you.”

Drugs. They must have already give him a shot of something to take the edge off, because he wasn't behaving the way Derek had anticipated. Probably for the best. “Our bags got mixed up.”

“I know,” Hotch said quietly, leaning his head to the side so he didn't have to watch the stitches go in. “That was my fault, I grabbed the wrong bag in my rush to get off of the jet. I'm sorry.”

Derek shrugged and pulled up a chair, deciding it was probably the right thing to do to sit with him. Reid was with Rossi, everyone else was back at the station packing up. The minute he sat in the chair, he felt the shirt tighten impossibly behind his shoulders and the seams began popping quietly. Pop pop rrrrip. The sleeves had been put under maximum strain. He sighed.

“I'll replace the shirt.”

“'S'ok,” Hotch mumbled, blinking sleepily against the pain meds they'd shot right into his vein along with the antibiotics. He was a lightweight when it came to those things. “I get your sweater.”

“What am I gonna wear?”

Hotch only smiled in that strange lopsided way he had and stared at him, and somehow Derek knew whatever was on his mind wasn't something he'd say out loud, especially in a hospital in front of their teammates who were pretending with every shred of decency they had not to stare at the two of them. It was barely working. “Deal.”

[candycandy00]

Dabi x Reader Breeding Kink

For @selogeo

Smut. 18+. Unprotected sex.

When Dabi shows up at the door to your bedroom in the League hideout, you know exactly what he wants. He stands leaning against the door frame, giving you that look - tilting his head down and looking up at you through his bangs, a smug grin on his mouth. It’s a look that drives you absolutely wild, and he knows it. He could be such an asshole sometimes, pressing every button you have before ever touching you.

He waits for you to ask him to come in, as always. You wonder why he bothers with the formality, but then you figure he just likes for you to ask him for things. You step aside and say, “Come on in,” with a sigh. You know where this is heading.

Dabi saunters in like a cat that has free reign of its human’s house. He tosses his coat onto your floor as he walks toward the bed to sit down. Such a messy boy. “I thought you might want some company tonight,” he says, still looking smug.

This bastard. He’s been doing this long enough that he’s figured out your biological schedule. He knows tonight is very much not a “safe night”.

Just the thought is already making heat spread through your body. He leans back on his elbows, still giving you that look, letting the bottom of his shirt draw up to show his abdomen. You draw your eyes away. “Stop being a tease, Dabi.”

He laughs and stands up, slipping his shirt off and dropping it on the floor, then kicking it out of the way. “If you’re that impatient, let’s get started.”

Your eyes graze over him, the scars, the staples, the piercings. He unbuckles his belt, and that’s when the last of your hesitation dies. You practically tear your own shirt off as you cross the few feet between you and Dabi, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him passionately, feeling the divine sensation of the differently textured skin around his mouth rubbing against your lips .

He unhooks your bra with practiced ease and pulls it off you, letting it join the growing pile of clothes on your floor. Then his hands are unbuttoning your jeans, pulling them, along with your underwear, down to your knees. The two of you separate briefly to remove the rest of your clothes and his, then you rejoin, pressing your bodies together.

You feel the staples scrape across your nipples and it sends a tremor of pleasure throughout your whole body. Dabi lifts you up by your hips and puts you on the bed on your back. He kisses your mouth again and then slowly slides down your body, letting you feel every staple, every inch of hot, burned skin, until he sits back on his knees in front of you, between your open legs.

“I forgot to buy condoms again,” he says, a hint of mischief in his voice.

“Yeah, right,” you say, knowing the truth, excited by the lie. You draw you knees up toward your chest, then drape both legs over Dabi’s shoulders as he presses into you, giving him the perfect angle to get as deep inside you as possible.

You hiss as he fills you up, the few staples he’s put in his cock scratching you in just the right way as he pumps in and out. His movements are slow and deliberate, deep and intimate. He leans down to kiss you again, his tongue in your mouth, one of his hands gripping your hair gently, the other pressed into the mattress beside you, keeping him steady.

This is a dangerous game the two of you are playing. Two villains becoming parents? Does Dabi even want children? You suspect he just gets off on the idea of altering your body so much himself, of physically changing you. But you get off on it too, so how can you complain?

Dabi fucks you for longer than he ever has before, seeming to go deeper with each thrust. Your legs on his shoulders are going numb, but every nerve in your groin is alive. Finally he shoves in deeper than ever, his fingers clenching in your hair, and you feel him cum inside you.

You imagine it shooting deep inside you, directly into your womb, coating your insides. The thought of it drives you over the edge. You pull his lips back to yours, clasping your hands around his neck, moaning against the kiss as you climax. You can feel his grin before you see it, the smug, proud look he wears every time this happens. He can drive you mad with pleasure just from the feeling of his sticky semen sliding around inside you, and he knows this very well.

Dabi pulls out of you, but puts his hands on your legs, holding them in place on his shoulders as he enjoys the view of your pussy so full of his seed that it’s leaking out onto the sheets. You jerk your legs free and sit up, pretending to be annoyed at him. “You made a mess of me again.”

He scoots over to sit beside you, still wearing that smirk. “You love it when I make messes,” he says in a teasing tone. You can’t deny this so you don’t even try. Instead you lean your head on his shoulder and close your eyes.

Dabi wraps an arm around you. “No complaints if I sleep here tonight?” he asks.

“Nope,” you answer, snuggling closer to him and enjoying the faint charred smell mixed with cologne. Dabi’s scent. You don’t know what the consequences of these nights with him will be, but that’s what makes you feel alive, what excites you. And you know Dabi feels the same.

[todourouki]

Good Girls, Bad Guys | Dabi

a one shot

SUMMARY: The one where no one can understand why you’re so interested in Dabi, but you just can’t seem to help yourself. Maybe it was how soft he was when no one else was around, or how gentle his touch was against your skin, or maybe even how clumsy he is on purpose just to see you— whatever it was, you couldn’t get enough of the scarred man.

PAIRING: Villain!Dabi & Sweetheart!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5.7k

WARNINGS: Explicit Language, Dabi purposely acts careless during missions so u can tend to his wounds because he’s an attention whore, Smut [18+]

Dabi was a complete mess.

He was a mess made of old silver staples, burnt purple skin adorning his lean and tall build, the same routined outfit that never seemed to alternate, unruly raven hair always managing to stay as distressed as the day before, and silky yet lewd words that slipped off his sinning lips as if it were his maiden tongue.

The only difference with his usual mess of an appearance today as he stood with arms crossed against his chest would be the large rip peaking through his black coat. Your eyes widened, rushing him into your living room and shutting the door behind him.

Your apartment was one that Dabi never seemed to get tired of. He had only really been in the living room, yet the cozy space always brought an odd sense of familiarity into his soul he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

He wasn’t sure if it was the plush and soft couches, pillows thrown against each cushion making it look just as soft and comfortable as they really were, or maybe it was the picture frames hanging around every wall with a candle on an invisible shelf not too far from the glass.

Either way, the steps he took in his plain black socks on to the carpet under the couches and coffee table brought him into a weird headspace one could only describe as happiness. It really did scare the shit out of him.

With a simple few set of steps, he swung his body down onto the cushions he always found himself sinking into at weird hours of the night like today. The only difference from the current night to others would be that it was an earlier hour, currently being only two in the morning as soft rain pattered against the windows adorning your cozy living area.

“Dabi..” Your soft words whispered into the silence of the room, hands gently hovering over the large cut in concern as you watched him throw you a rather forced smirk.

“Nothing worse than what I already got. Just patch me up like new, princess.” His words didn’t get the usual blush from your cheeks he always searched for after his usual flirtatious remarks filled the room.

All he was gifted with would be a look of sadness covering your usually content face. Without a word, you stood up and walked away towards what he assumed was your bathroom. All the man could do was furrow his eyebrows, the confused face remaining when you walked back into the couch and knelt down on the floor next to him.

“What’s wrong with you?” He bluntly asked, a once drawn eyebrow raising as you brushed the sleeve of his t-shirt off and eyed the dried up cut.

You continued to remain silent, only sighing as the alcohol pad in your hand made its way over to the open skin. Before the stinging sensation could reach his skin though, the opposing hand gripped onto your wrist and tugged it further away and just enough to make your eyes finally meet his.

The silence surrounded the room, Dabi staring at you in order to get you to speak. You were conflicted, of course you loved patching the man up almost every night and hearing about his wild adventures in words that made your eyes twinkle with excitement. Yet you were becoming exhausted of seeing him with a brand new scar eventually worse from the one than before.

“I just..” Your soft voice began, Dabi’s posture becoming subtly more relaxed the minute his favorite sound filled the room. “I get tired of seeing you get hurt all the time, you know?”

Your words made him smirk, the same infamous one he couldn’t seem to keep off his burnt lips. In one swift movement, he released your arm and pushed it back towards the large gapping wound that made your stomach turn.

“You worrying about me?” He questioned, the hand that once gripped your wrist now resting against your cheek as he stared at you mockingly.

It was hard to not get flustered around Dabi. He had such a way with words and always knew just how to get your ears to turn a hue of red you didn’t even know they were capable of becoming. You felt the heat flush to your cheeks and hoped the flattery you felt wasn’t too visible. Your face turned back to the large cut on his arm, ignoring his remark all together.

The minute the liquid reached his arm, a soft hiss you were used to slipped off his lips. You only weakened the grip on the cut, your bottom lip being tugged between your teeth in concentration.

“I have to get rid of the bacteria before I use my healing quirk— I’m sorry.” Your apology rang on deaf ears, and Dabi chose to ignore it in order to save your heart from thinking you hurt him.

He only nodded and placed his hand away from your cheek to behind his head in order to give his eye level some more precision on your face. You had a concentrated knit between your eyebrows, and he almost got worried you were forgetting to blink. This was an expression he was much too used to, yet every time he saw it gave him the same feelings he could never explain.

The silence in the room pained you both, the level of words usually slipping out of either of your lips being brought to an awkward zero. It was really uncomfortable, and you couldn’t deal with it anymore as you tossed the now bloodied up tissue somewhere on the ground.

Your hands replaced the tissue, a light reflecting across his arm and making a hiss leave his lips once again. You knew that the feeling of your healing quirk made him feel uncomfortable and he never really grew used to it yet. It shocked you though, because you’d think after being in this exact predicament probably over 100 times, he’d grown used to the prickling feeling.

“Where was this one from?” Your voice was still soft, trying to ease his mind off the pain in a way you knew was best for him.

Dabi loved the way you cared for him. The first time he met you was at the League of Villains hideout in a trashy old building he really hated. You walked in through that warp guy’s portal and the minute he saw you was the minute he believed in angels. It was like time stopped, and he really wasn’t a fan of finding people so attractive yet there you were.

You were announced to be the healer for the league. Shigaraki found you abandoned in some building destroyed in a fire you couldn’t remember, and finding refugee in the odd man was your only option to survival at that point. With that, you were granted as the only person with a full-blown apartment in the building in order to be available for their every need, and were granted immunity from being on actual missions.

That was good enough for you, though. You weren’t a violent person, and knowing most of their targets were children didn’t sit right with you. Despise that, you didn’t have the heart to quit and instead decided to spend the remainder of your days with the dysfunctional League. You had never felt genuinely needed the way the League needed you, and in some weird Stockholm syndrome way, you couldn’t shake the comfort you got from knowing they had to have you around to genuinely survive.

“If I tell you, you’d only worry more.” He smiled over at you, a rare sight blessing your wondering eyes and making you blush once more.

Dabi wasn’t a liar— that’s something that was well known amongst everyone in the league and even amongst you. So when he thought about what happened today, why he was sitting on your couch, and how he planned on hiding the truth from you, he had to mentally lecture himself for stretching the truth.

The real reason Dabi was getting patched up underneath your touch was because he chose to be.

He would never tell you, but the large and deathly gash on his arm was at first only a slight cut where a staple had fallen out. He chose to ignore it in the beginning and decided to check in with you about it after the weekend passed. Yet the minute he realized that meant he’d have to go several days without feeling your touch and hearing your voice made him change his mind completely.

With that, a tissue was wrapped into a ball and sitting in his lips and Dabi ended up watching himself remove a few staples from his arm and tug at the skin in a way that made him shiver. I literally tore myself open to see her, who the fuck does that?

Your hand had finished doing its job. Dabi could tell by the way the prickling ended, and he found his body getting pushed upwards and being replaced by the comfort of your chest against his back.

You positioned the both of you to where his body was leaning against your legs and chest in a way to make his arm in perfect reach for you. The stapler in your hand warned Dabi of what was to come, and he simply sat back against the comfort of your body heat with closed eyes.

“People that worry are people that care.” You whispered, the sound of the stapler pressing into his arm being the only other sound. Dabi’s face remained stoic as he drank in your words and let a loopy grin cover his bored expression.

“Are you saying that you care about me?” Dabi continued to tease, bright blue eyes now opening and staring into yours with flames threatening to shoot through his pupils.

You scoffed, finishing the last staple and replacing the metal object down with a bottle he recognized as the ointment you always forced him to wear after using his quirk. The cool of the cream made him sigh in content. The contrast of his burning skin to a cold burn-relieving cream brought pleasure into his body.

“I care about all of you— that’s why I do th-” “No, Y/N.” He interrupted, making you clam your mouth shut and listen to his words nervously. “I asked if you cared about me.”

You finished lathering the ointment on his skin, gently propping his body up against the backrest of the couch. He only slightly grimaced and tossed the bad arm on a side that didn’t interfere with his position. Your legs were now crossed underneath you.

“Of course I care about you, Dabi.” Your voice made a groan threaten to fall off his lips. There was nothing Dabi loved more than your voice, especially when you said his name. Whenever you spoke, he knew every one and everything didn’t matter if it wasn’t you and your vocal cords.

Dabi rolled his head to the side to make you face him. Even with a bad arm, he was able to now pick it up and peel his jacket off his body lazily.

“How much do you care about me?” The smirk playing weakly on his lips made you shiver, and just watching his expression brought butterflies to your stomach.

“A lot, that’s why I’m always ready to patch you up..” You mumbled, nervously looking down at your fingers and playing with the ring on your right index finger.

It wasn’t that you were shy— but the way Dabi’s eyes always followed yours brought a certain attraction you couldn’t stuff away. It was almost scary how much he made you squirm, even under something as simple as a gaze.

Sure, Dabi flirted with everyone. It didn’t take a genius to see that he flirted with you in a different way, though. His eyes always lingered longer on your frame when you entered the room, he spoke more words to you than he’s probably ever said in his life, and he always kept his endearing pet-names for you and only you.

“You wanna know something, doll?” He asked lowly, his face staring into yours intensely as you finally lifted your eyes to meet his and nodded your head.

Regardless of his appearance, regardless of his attitude, and regardless of the fact it’s Dabi, you knew that you were a goner from the start. You had a ridiculously annoying crush on him, and we’re pretty sure he could coerce you into doing just about anything. He probably knew that, too.

“I think I care about you more than anyone else here.” His words stitched onto your skin, the quietness seeming as if he feared anyone else would hear his words.

“You’re too good and innocent for this world.” He continued, a patchy hand stretching its way over towards your face and slowly rubbing at your cheeks.

You stood quiet, fearing that he’d stop his words all together and you wouldn’t be able to here the sincere tone he rarely spoke in. The only sound in the room one was able to hear was the pattering of water running down the window and your lit candles cracking amongst themselves. Your head leaned into his hand and let the warmth of his palm silk you in.

“That’s a problem though, baby.” Baby.. Your eyes widened at the new name, eyebrows furrowing and glancing over at him with a tilted head.

“What problem is there about that, Dabi?”

He chuckled, gliding his hand from your cheek to the back of your head as he grabbed a fistful of hair as soft as possible. He tugged your head closer towards his daringly. You breath began to shallow and you felt it, the excitement that always came with Dabi whenever he was around.

“You might be a bit too good for me.” He spoke as if he was trying not to scare you away. The timidness of words only brought you closer to him, finally feeling your chest collide with his arm as you were pressed against his side with your face dangerously close to his.

His blue eyes refused to leave yours, and the intensity of the situation made you nearly melt inside. It’s been a while since anyone ever said something like that to you, let alone a guy. A feeling jumpstarted your butterflies, and you ran your tongue against your bottom lip to hide the now dry sensation of your lips.

“I’m not too good for you, please don’t say that Dabi.” The way his name rolled off your tongue made him groan and grip your hair a little tighter.

You’d be lying if it didn’t feel good.

Your face was close enough to feel the heat run off his cheeks, and you knew that you wanted nothing more than to just collide your lips with his. The sexual tension he oozed was something you couldn’t handle, no matter how hard you clenched your thighs.

“You sure about that, princess?” You heard the dare in his voice and felt nothing but exhilaration run through your veins as if you were speeding down a highway on the opposite side of the road.

You weren’t sure when his hands reached your shorts-covered bottom, but you soon found yourself mumbling in surprise when your body was tossed (with literally one arm) across his figure in a straddling position. Your chest arched into his by the pressure he had on your ass, and a gulp slipped through your lips in embarrassment.

You refused to back down, though.

“I’m really sure, Dabi.”

You knew the effect you had on him when you mentioned his name, and he knew by the way he smirked up at you. His other arm was still limp on his side, but that didn’t stop his dominant and good arm from groping every inch of your lower half. You were trying your hardest to cover a moan, yet the minute he gripped a piece of your thigh close enough between the other, you couldn’t help but slam your lips against his.

Dabi tasted like what you would expect him to taste like. The saliva that trailed from his throat down yours had the taste of metal and mint chewing gum. The taste became something you grew familiar to within seconds of smacking your lips against his, and by the way his body gripped you closer to his, you could tell he enjoyed your taste just as well.

Dabi’s mind went empty at the way your tongue moved against his. He couldn’t believe that his pretty little girl could kiss him like this, letting out secret moans into his lips in a way that made sinning sound like a good idea. He also couldn’t believe how fast he got hard, the bulge pressing against his jeans in a way he just couldn’t work with.

You felt it, and your body began to nervously rock back and forth in a way to secretly relieve yourself. Before you started to press your body down harder, Dabi’s free hand slipped up to your hair again and pulled your head back with a tinge of softness. He was out of breath and flustered, and you were sure you looked just as distraught as him.

“Listen,” he panted, his hand letting go slightly of the grip and groaning at the way your lips swelled up in a coat of his own saliva, “if you start something, I won’t able to not finish it. I also won’t go slow.”

The words activated a switch in your head, eyes widening as you stood up from his lap. Before he could question your actions or even grow a bit disappointed at the idea of you not wanting to continue, his eyes nearly jolted out of his skull. Before him stood you, clad in a pair of plain white panties and your shorts thrown on the ground from where you had dropped them. If Dabi wasn’t already obsessed before, he knew he was nothing but smitten now.

You stood quiet and he followed suit as you took your place back into his lap. Without glancing at him, you fiddled with his belt and loosened the grip around his hips.

Dabi really wanted to stop you. He really fucking did. Yet watching you focus on nothing but trying to take his clothes off made him unable to move and speak. It was like he was brainwashed, and he nearly died the minute you sat up to push his pants down.

“I-I-Y/—” “Shh.”

Your fingers covered his mouth as you continued to stare down at his pants in focus. You knew he was trying to stop you, but you wanted to continue. You knew you wanted him to know that you were just as fond of him as he made it seem he was for you.

After struggling to shimmy his pants off his lanky legs with one arm since you were still trying to shut up him, you watched his body lie limp across your couch in nothing but a shirt and black briefs.

It was like heaven in front of your eyes.

You licked your lips, shyly taking a seat on top of him and removing your hand. Your fingers made their way over to his chest. You wanted to take his shirt off and feel the skin to skin contact, but you knew how Dabi was about that stuff. He’d never say it, but you knew he was insecure of the uneven portions of skin there.

He tilted your head up with a finger and brought your wide eyes to his. “What do you want to do, doll? It’s whatever you want.”

The words brought goosebumps up your spine. The way he said it just made you weak, each word slipping off his lips like the air you needed to breathe and you soon found yourself whimpering at the sentence you knew he set up for this exact reaction. You could tell by how smugly he watched you writhe under his words.

You thought about your next sentence carefully. His arm was injured, and you weren’t sure if he was as into this as you were. Sure, making out and dry-humping was cool for a while— but would he be okay with jumping straight into sex? Sure, most people go through an extensive amount of foreplay in order to get the mood going, but you didn’t really want to. His arm was hurt, and all you wanted to do was watch him squirm under you as you made him feel good.

“I want to ride you.” The sudden confidence of your voice made him stammer, eyes watching you as they twitched in excitement. He had never realized how much he’d wanted those words to slip off your pretty lips but he was beyond estatic to hear them he meant for him and only him.

He didn’t respond, only pressing you into his lips with the hand gripping your hair and taking your mouth by surprise. Your tongues moved in sync, and you could feel yourself only growing wetter and wetter from just the way he pounded his lips into yours.

Before you could stop yourself, you moved your fingers to the waistband of his briefs and pushed them back just enough to hear something heavy smack against his stomach. Yes, something heavy.

He gripped your hair again and this time with much more intensity, broke your lips apart and pushed your head away from his. From the quick glance you gave him, you could see his nearly throbbing dick rest against his lean stomach in a way that nearly teased you. His lips were wet and his eyes were clouded with desire.

“I want to watch your face when you sit down on my dick, Y/N.”

The assertiveness made you nod your head obediently. Instantly following his commands, you rested your body onto your knees and pushed your panties to the side. A soft hand gripped his dick, and the way he sucked his breath in at the contact made you smile smugly.

He didn’t realize though, since his eyes were now trained on your dripping heat inch closer towards his dick. He counted in his head, preparing himself to sink into the place he wanted to get into the most.

5. Your hands slowly swirled up and down his dick, pumping gently enough to prepare his body to take you up yet to also evoke a moan from his lips. And Dabi doesn’t moan.

4. Your eyes never left his the minute you had a good enough grip on him, and just that alone made some precum slip through his tip.

3. He thought you looked so pretty getting ready to sit down on his cock. ‘Imagine when she’s actually riding me, fuck.’

2. To prep yourself up a bit more, you lathered you’re wetness with a swipe of your thumb against his tip, the sensation making him suck in an incoherent curse.

1. This was your moment. Usually Dabi wanted to take control, and usually in his fantasies about you, it was you getting drilled into your own bed in a way that had you forgetting how to scream. This was different though. Dabi wanted to see what you were going to do.

Before he could even continue his thoughts, the feeling of a soft, extremely wet, and tight hole covered his penis agonizingly slow. With squinted eyes in pleasure, he watched as your face moved from that smug smile to a look of focus and surprise. Within just the first few inches, you already felt as if your insides were more full than possible.

Growing impatient yourself was something you knew would be a bad idea, but you couldn’t help it. So with that, you let go of all strain in your knees and in your hands and let your body drop fully into his embrace. Just like that, you imagined he was probably in your damn gut at this point.

“You’re so big.” You gasped, the vulgar words coming out of your lips making Dabi groan even more than he already was at the sudden contact.

You took a few more minutes to take him in as your vagina just refused to take all of him in. For a skinny guy like him, the weight he carried down there definitely made up for it and you weren’t complaining.

Before you knew it, you felt the need to continue. With that, you dragged your hands up to Dabi’s face and gripped the sides in yours. His lips met your lips, and you began to grind your body against his in order to control your pace for the time being.

You had to rip your lips off his as your slowly found yourself bouncing against him. The movements were so sudden, Dabi didn’t expect it and found his eyes slamming shut in pleasure as his free-hand gripped your ass cheek roughly.

“Fuck Y/N.” He moaned, making you feel only more determined than before.

His praises (which really only consisted of moans, groans, and the word fuck) egged you on, and before you knew it, you were bouncing your body up and down with such speed and intensity, Dabi couldn’t even say a word.

You were fucking him so good, he couldn’t even speak.

Dabi wasn’t sure if it was the way you slipped your body all the way up to his tip only to slam back down, or if it was the quick and loud moans that left your lips so richly, or if it was the trail of wetness coming down from your lower heaven pooling into his light pubic hairs. Whatever it was though, was causing him to see stars.

As thunder cracked in the background, all you could focus on was the sounds of your thighs and body slapping into Dabi’s in a perfect motion.

“D-Dabi—” you moaned loudly, the words falling off your lips quicker than you could handle, “I-You-You feel so— so fucking good.”

The word good dragged out longer than you liked, your screams being reduced to whimpers due to not wanting anyone else to hear you. Dabi watched you, groans coming out of his lips matching yours in a way that made you grow in intensity.

Your hips moved harder and faster, finally finding your own G-Spot and beginning to see stars in your trail of sight.

“You look- look so fucking pretty— taking my cock like this— baby.” The name only made you yelp, whimpering as your eyebrows furrowed and began to thrash your ass tight vagina in a quick notion of in, out, grind, out, grind, in, and over and over again.

There were many things you did to impress Dabi. Honestly, the way you breathe was something Dabi wanted to praise you with in itself. This, however, was beyond him.

Watching you throw yourself against his dick, eyes crossing and drool slipping across your still swollen lips, ass that he was gripping onto as if it would leave forever clapping against his skin, whimpers and cries coming out of your throat was something that Dabi now believed he wanted to be the only thing he ever saw again.

“Just like that doll, I want to see you cum-see you cum all over me.” He managed to get out, face scrunching as he felt his tip slam into a certain part of your pussy that damn near sent vibrations down his long length. He had never felt pussy this good before, and maybe it was just because he was attracted to you, but whatever it was— was driving him absolutely insane.

You felt your stomach tighten, a trail of curses coming out of both you and Dabi’s mouths in synch. You continued to bounce against him. Somehow, the position you were in where you were now on your feet only allowed you to ride him harder and faster than before. Dabi nearly passed the fuck out.

You, on the other hand, were definitely already gone. Watching his face scrunch up, staples clattering as his hair began to stick to his forehead and his lips rip your name and curses like they were the only words he knew— you couldn’t handle it. With that, the pressure in your stomach grew.

“Do-don’t worry about me baby—” he could feel your hole beginning to tighten up more and more, the sensation feeling as if you were milking his cock from the inside and dragging his cum up involuntarily.

“B-but I wanna cum with you.” You whined out, head thrown back in nothing but pure ecstasy.

He could see your tits bounce harshly against your shirt, yet for some reason, he couldn’t bring it upon himself to burn the stupid material off. For a flashing moment in time, he thought about how your eyes trailed against his covered chest.

“I know b-baby.” You said, snapping him from his stare at your chest and up to your now clearly red face. “I-I ke-kept it on so that we-we both have our shirts on.”

That itself, nearly brought Dabi over the fucking edge. The simple fact that you were so fucking considerate, enough to do some little shit like that drove him insane.

Without blinking, the limp hand once thrown on the couch was now gripping onto your body. You couldn’t say anything though, because his other hand gripped the couch and brought him to an angle to where he began to obliterate you.

With nothing but a gasp being able to come out of your locked jaw, your eyes rolled back at the way his drilled in and out of you in a nearly barbaric manner. His arm gripped around your waist in order to bring himself to more pleasure, and you found yourself bouncing up and down in order to counter him and bring more force into the slams.

“Holy fucking shit.” He yelled, his jaw tightening as he began to whimper.

You were fucking him back, your hands tugging at his raven hair roughly and your lips drooling at the sensation in a way that made you seem to be out of your headspace. Just like that, your stomach tightened up and warned you that you had about a second to let him know you were going to literally cream yourself.

You heard his staples more than usual, yet ignored the small noises in order to focus on the grip pressed against your body.

“Dabi I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum.” You repeated, your voice hoarse and whined out from the way he fucked your brain into overdrive.

All that could be heard were your pleas of pleasure, Dabi’s hips slamming into your hips that slammed into his, the wet sounds of your pussy continuously being filled up to the brim by Dabi, and the couch beginning to squeak at the roughness.

Without catching a breath, Dabi’s hand roughly scratched its way up to your hair and tugged you to face him.

“Cum now.”

The order made your eyes roll back. You weren’t sure just how close you were, but just him commanding you to do it made you finally fall over the edge. The feeling of his dick shooting into you made you topple over onto his chest, cries leaving your lips as you orgasmed harder than you probably ever have before.

The sight you once had disappeared as you saw nothing but stars and darkness. The air once resting in your lungs cleared out, and nothing was able to leave your throat other than Dabi’s name over and over again as if it were your religion.

Dabi followed suit, finally resting underneath you and gasping for air from the orgasm he just came down from. His cock stood in you, still warm and twitching from the stimulation still being given from your tightness.

Nobody said anything, voices too tired, bodies too sticky and stuck together, and minds too empty to even be able to form a sentence. Your legs had given up on you, finally wrapped behind Dabi’s back as you clung onto him for your dear life.

“Baby.” Dabi called out softly, his raspy voice making you snap out of your fucked out trance. You looked at him, eyes barely being able to hold themselves open as your body wobbled against his.

“Let me clean you up, okay?” He softly asked, his hand gently pushing some hair still stuck to your cheeks behind your ears. You bit your lip and defiantly shook your head.

“Can we clean up tomorrow?” You asked shyly, hands rubbing up and down his chest as your voice pleaded for him to listen. “I just want to sleep with you for the rest of the night.”

The minute you looked at him with those wishful eyes and small pout, he found it really fucking hard to say no. He wasn’t really planning on staying, but now he wasn’t sure if he was ready to even think about leaving.

Agreeing with your plea to stay, he twisted his body enough to where he was finally lying down on the couch from one end to the other. He dragged your body with him, adjusting you to where your legs were tangled up and your head taking comfort on his shirt-clad chest.

With the way he just fucked your lights out, and the way he softly spoke to you and rubbed your back, you found it even harder to keep your eyes open. It was no surprise when Dabi somehow managed to turn the singular lamp on that was on the table next to him off only to find you slightly snoring on his chest.

So many times, he warned himself that when the day he got to go inside of your wet, sweet heaven came, he’d stay up and take advantage of being able to look at your fucked out expression some more.

But due to how good you rode his dick, how good you kissed him, and how good you felt weaves into his body, he couldn’t help but close his eyes and fall into the same slumber as you with his hands tightly wrapped around your frame and a small smile playing at his lips.

—

cue the song overdue by travis scott because this took me like a week to write for some reason 🥴 writers block aint no mf JOKE! Anyways, i hope you guys enjoyed! I did get an anon ask somewhat similar to it though so that kinda got me to finish. So anon, whoever you were that sent that one Dabi anon in about reader being a healer and such, thanks for saving the day 😔👍🏾 anyways YEA please don’t let this flop idk why y’all don’t like Dabi </3 smh no substance! Also this is hella unedited and guess what? Idc. If you see a typo though, please lmk.

don’t forget to like, reblog, comment, and follow me if u a real one

[lue-arlert]

My Pet

18+ MDNI (minor and ageless blogs will be blocked)

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A/N: this fic is dedicated to @docoooo, hope you enjoy it bby uwu

Pairing: Erwin Smith x AFAB reader

WC: 2.3k

Content warnings: use of pet names, established relationship, size kink(?), crying, creampie

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Erwin wanted nothing more than to come home to you. This expedition was coming to an end, the remaining soldiers on their way home. They only suffered the loss of two comrades; Erwin would say “luckily,” but it was never lucky to lose anyone.

He hadn’t seen you in over a week, not only from the expedition, but also your own obligations at the hospital within Wall Rose, tending to the sick and injured. The scouts returning from beyond the walls would be entering this medical facility, some needing stitched up, others needing dislocated joints and bones to be set in place.

Erwin only suffered a gash in his leg, from his own reckless handling of his snap blades, nicking himself when he swung too furiously at the nape of a 15 meter Titan.

As they all entered the hospital, your lover searched the wing for any sign of your shimmering hair color standing out from the crowd, but he frowned deeply when he could not find you. This meant someone else would be tending to their wounds.

An hour passed and his leg was stitched and bandaged, relieving him that he could finally retire home. He escorted some of his soldiers to carriages outside of the facility to see that they too would return home safely, giving them farewells and well wishes that they recover quickly.

Finally making it to his own home at the headquarters, he unlocked his door with a fluttering stomach, hoping to whatever god that you would be waiting for him.

“My love!” Your voice rang through his ears like the sweetest melody, his shoulders drooping with relief finding you sitting up in the large bed.

You were in a sheer robe with your unclothed nipples peeking through, your barely damp hair and the floral aroma of the room indicating you had recently bathed in his private bathroom.

He collapsed on the bed beside you on his hands and knees, being mindful of the gash on his leg as he leaned over and planted a tender kiss on your plush pink lips. “Hello, my pet.” He sighed contently, carefully laying on his stomach.

“How was the expedition?” You leaned on your elbow, knees bent over each other, and you reached out to stroke his perfect blond hair from his thick brow.

“We only had a couple casualties. There will be a small funeral for them tomorrow.” He took your hand from his hair and kissed your knuckles as he shut his eyes. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, my love.” You leaned forward and gingerly kissed his hair. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy.”

“It’s alright, I understand.” He rolled onto his side and brought his hand up to cup your cheek, brushing his thumb beneath your eye. “I’m glad I get to see you now.”

You grinned widely at him and rested your palm over his hand, leaning into his touch and kissing the base of his palm just above where his wrist began. “I requested to be off for the next three days so I could see you. I didn’t know exactly when you were returning, so I just guessed.”

His heart fluttered at your dedication to him, your loyalty to him forever being the staple that held your relationship together. His eyes were full of desire for you, the way your hair fell around your shoulders and your eyelashes brushed your cheeks was one of the most beautiful sights he’d seen in recent memory.

“I want to make love to you, my pet.” He said with a low, calm tone. “I need to make love to you.”

Your grin grew soft and you pulled away from his touch, slipping your robe off your shoulders and arms until it pooled around your ass and thighs.

Erwin couldn’t help but admire your body, the way your collarbones stuck out looking so kissable, the swell of your breasts so delicious, your belly soft and pudgy as you sat on your hip. He could never grow tired of the sight of you, especially when you smelled so lovely while looking so beautiful.

His hand found its way to your thighs, resting over the strong muscle and giving gentle squeezes. He could feel his cock growing in his trousers at the silky feeling of your skin beneath his fingertips, and he reached his touch up to your stomach, grazing his fingernails across the span of it.

You sighed happily through your nose and laid on your back, looking down at him while running your fingers through his hair. “Come make love to me.”

Pulling himself up to his hands and knees once more, he crawled over you, nudging your legs so that the backs of your thighs rested on the top of his, his leather straps from his gear cool against your skin.

He pulled your hips up so that your core was pressed against his lap and he began to massage your breasts, one of his favorite features of yours. He adored the way they fit so perfectly in his large palms, your nipples sitting delicately between his knuckles.

“So fucking beautiful for me,” he grumbled, leaning down to kiss your throat. “Perfect body,” he planted a kiss, “perfect pussy. Just wanna be inside of you.”

“Whatever you want, Erwin, you can have.” Your hands slid up his arms and around to his shoulder blades beneath his forest green cloak, the fabric tickling your bare arms. After groping him for some time, you brought your hands back to the clasp of his cloak and undid it, tossing it to the floor and following suit with his uniform jacket, the leather smooth beneath your touch.

With hot lips, saliva trailing with them, he kissed from your throat over your clavicle, leaving bites and purple splotches on the way, eventually taking a nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue over the bud, exhaling through his nose at the pleasure it gave him to be able to suck on your tit. He continued to massage the other breast, pinching every so often to produce tiny squeaks from you.

Your hips slowly rocked as you grabbed onto the gear straps across his chest, fumbling with the buckles with shaky hands as his mouth continued to work on you, leaving hickies around your areola.

“Erwin, th’feels so good, my love.” You whined, pushing your hips further into his crotch. “Could cum just from this.”

He smirked against your skin and bit harder than he already was, suckling more fervently at the challenge to make you lose yourself beneath him. He would slap your tits, pulling his mouth away with a pop! as he did so.

Your moans from the impact rattled in your throat, and you could feel a wetness pooling in your panties the harder he slapped your perfect mounds, followed by soothing licks and kisses.

“Will you cum for me, my pet?” He asked in a low voice, glancing up at you through his long eyelashes.

“Yes, yes, please don’t stop.” You gripped the sheets beside your head, elbows pointing to the ceiling as your back arched into his mouth, his suckling increasing painfully.

With one last squeeze and one last solid bite around your nipple, you came undone beneath him, squirming and moaning at the pleasure that coursed through you to your pussy.

You called out his name and brought a hand to the back of his head, your fingertips grazing the stubble of his undercut.

He let out his own soft moan at the way your hips rolled over his full erection and he released your breasts, sitting up on his haunches to begin unbuttoning his shirt. “Wanna put my cock inside of you and fuck that beautiful cunt of yours.”

“Please, my love,” you begged, replacing his touch with your hands over your breasts, squeezing as you wiggled your hips and wrapped your legs around his waist.

Erwin scooped his hands under your knees and pushed them up to your chest, scooting back to give himself enough room to undo his trousers, releasing his girthy member as he shoved his pants down to his knees.

Biting your lip as you admired his curved cock, you lifted a foot and rested your ankle on his shoulder, your toes brushing the side of his neck. “I want you inside of me, want you so bad, Erwin.”

He groaned at your whining and crawled over you once more after removing your leg from his shoulder, peppering kisses on every inch of your chest and the knuckles that still kneaded your own breasts.

His fingers traced little swirls on the insides of your thighs until they reached your pussy, gently pressing over the damp spot of your panties. “Can’t wait any longer, my pet, need you now.”

“Yes,” you breathed, nodding as you gazed up at him with your glassy, lust-filled eyes.

Your lover pushed aside the fabric that trapped your pretty folds and he hoisted your hips up, grazing his cock through your wetness to lubricate himself. “Are you ready?” He asked kindly, lining his tip with your throbbing hole.

“I’m ready,” you nodded once more and reached your hands out to hold his forearms, your nails grazing and digging into his skin in preparation.

With a delighted sigh, he slowly pushed himself into you, glancing down to ensure you were okay. When he saw you pinch your eyes shut and your nose scrunch, he reached out to touch your cheek and stroked your skin gently. “Deep breaths, pet. Deep breaths.”

You inhaled heavily through your nose, then exhaled through puffed cheeks as your eyes fluttered open to look at him.

“Just a couple more,” he whispered as he inched further into you, encouraging your breathing exercise while he spread you apart.

“So big, Erwin,” your voice rasped as your fingers shook around his wrists. “So big, it hurts.”

“Just another moment, pet, then I’ll make you feel good.” He leaned forward and kissed your forehead, careful not to move too sharply to avoid hurting you further.

After you left small butterfly kisses on his chin, you nodded to let him know you were ready for his cock.

He slowly rocked his hips, his length barely moving inside of you to give you an easy start, and he took every whimper of yours into his mouth as he kissed you calmly.

Your ankles were crossed against his lower back and you used your calf muscles to squeeze his waist, pulling him deeper into you. “‘M ready, Erwin, faster,” you breathed against his face, your nose squished against his.

He obliged your words and quickened his pace, pulling out of you further and thrusting more harshly into your soaking pussy, groaning from deep in his throat. He’d missed your clenching walls, missed the way his dick was massaged by your velvety insides; it’d been too long since he had you, too long since he could enjoy your skin and your touches and your tightness.

Erwin wrapped a hand around your bottom, the other under your back and used all of his core muscles to hoist you up off the mattress, holding you against him while he bounced you on his cock, gripping your ass and back tightly in order to keep you steady against him.

Your pleasured squealing in his ear only made him harder, somehow, and he plowed deeper into you, breathing heavily against your face.

“Feel so good around me,” he grunted, staring into your crying eyes and wiping away a stray tear that rolled down your cheek.

Your mouth hung open, tongue lulled gently against your lower lip, and you began to drool at the feeling of his tip brushing against your spongy spot that sent waves of shivers and twitching through your limbs.

He pecked a quick kiss on the top of your tongue and adjusted you so that one hand was hooked under your knee, bending it against his side over his arm, giving him deeper access. With a harsher thrust, he brushed your cervix, causing you to cry out and lean your head back as your hips spasmed against his.

You chanted his name and dug your nails into his shoulder and the back of his neck, desperately hanging onto him as he pounded into you, his balls slapping the seam of your ass violently with each thrust.

He growled against your mouth as he kissed you, his nose and eyes twitching each time your cunt tightened around him. “Gonna cum inside of you, my pet, gonna fill you up,” he groaned and bit at your cheek before pulling his face back to look into your eyes as his hair began to stick to his sweaty forehead.

“Please, Erwin, please, I want you to fill me.” You whined as you kissed his cheek, trailing your lips to his ear where you gently bit at his lobe, your whimpers growing higher as he fucked into your g-spot. “Wanna come with you, s’close.”

He kept his pace, squeezing your ass as he panted and groaned, his cheeks red and glistening.

You gasped as your second orgasm hit you, rippling through your cunt making you clench even tighter around him, and your voice grew into a high squeal in his ear.

He grunted your name loudly then let out a deep, rumbling growl as he spilled inside of you, stuffing you with his creamy seed that soon dripped from your hole, too much for your cunt to handle.

Erwin continued to fuck you both through your highs until his thighs shook violently and he could no longer support the two of you, stumbling down on top of you as he caged you in his arms over the mattress.

You moaned and panted together, both twitching from your climaxes as your noses and lips brushed over one another.

He kissed you silently; no words needed to be exchanged between the two of you, for your feelings could be displayed through your touches and loving sighs.

Erwin had missed your body, and now that he had you once more, he never wanted to part from you or feel what it’s like to miss you ever again.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Group Project.”

Alright everyone, still working on the lecture series, but I also wanted to get some ideas.

What parts of my worldbuilding do you want me to continue with?

What do you want to know more about?”

What story lines do you think I have left unfinished?

And are there any parts of the timeline you want to hear more about? (I was thinking about doing a story on how Adam was even given a ship in the first place) things like that.

I would find your feedback very helpful if you could :) at the very least it will help me get through my writing slump.

Almost six months.

Six months od doctor Krill’s lecture series and they still felt as if they didn’t understand humans anymore than they had when they first started. Despite months and months of research, and papers, none of them had managed to get a grade on an assignment that was higher than a C -- Dr. krill was using what he called the human letter grading system to give them some more experiences that would help them bond with humans, and boy were they bonding with the humans who just couldn’t seem to get it right.

It wasn’t that Dr. krill was an unfair teacher, it was just that most of them always managed to be wrong in some massive and obvious way about humans. For example, when writing a paper about how humans cannot see in the dark and would be likely not to survive on a dark planet, but then potentially forgetting about all the humans who survived being completely blind Everything you could say about humans was generally untrue for another human.

Humans have an extreme sense of survival however they seem prone on tossing  themselves from high places just for the fun of it. 

Humans were both the most survival oriented and the most danger prone species in the entire universe, and that let to some very strange stories that often seemed as if they couldn’t possibly be true, but often turned out to be true anyway.

Either way, the class had been both difficult and exciting, and now they were approaching the end of the semester, and Dr. Krill had promised them something very special to go along with their group project.

They all waited nervously in their predetermined groups watching as Dr. Krill stepped into the room.

He said something to his TA and then turned to his projector to fiddle around for a moment. 

When the lights blinked overhead this time. 

Dr. krill trend to look at the class, “Understanding that we are approaching our last few weeks of class, I have decided to do something a bit special for all of you. To prepare you for the real world of working with humans. I understand that all of you have been working hard despite your abysmal grades, and have decided to do something that human schools do when just such a thing occurs….. Grading on a curve. I certainly didn’t expect any of you to understand humans any better after all of this was over, so this week, I am going to give your real opportunities for some real learning.”

He looked around the room rather smug, “First of all, I want to introduce you to a REAL life earth predator.”

Somehow, in some way, Krill made a sharp whistling noise, and out of the darkness of one of the entrances, their came the soft thudding of footsteps…. Four of them to be precise.

When the furry animal raced into the room the entire class went into a state of panic. Aliens leaped up on their desks and screamed. Vrul inflated and began floating towards the ceiling, all was chaos as the large fuzzy creature raced around the perimeter of the room and then straight towards Dr. krill himself.

More screaming.

“Waffles Sit!” The animal skidded to a stop, and then sat with a soft thump on the floor.

The classroom grew very still as Dr. Krill began to pat the predator’s head.

A pink tongue lolled from it’s mouth past massive white K-9 teeth. Its huge ears swiveled back and forth.

The class slowly began to relax back in their seats as Krill continued to pat the dog, rubbing the fur under its chin so that it raised its head and grumbled deep in it’s throat. Its tail slapped repeatedly against the ground.

“Everyone, I would like to introduce you to one of the staples of a human pack….. A dog.” He continued to pat the animal, as she slid to the ground beside him tail still thumping loudly against the ground, “Waffles was trained by humans for humans, and has the ability to both detect and prevent psychological crisis. As you all know humans are rather prone to mental dysfunction, but this dog is one of the first line defences put in place for a specific human.”

The dog leaned up, and with her long pink tongue, she liked the doctor on the arm.

The class cringed back.

“If you ever want to work with humans, it is likely you will have to work with dogs as well. Any dog that is going to be aboard a human ship will have been vetted for work with other alien races. They will be friendly, and they will calm. Waffles has been around humans her entire life, and around aliens for over two years which is a little less than half of her life.”

He turned to look at the room, “I will give a hundred points of Extra credit to anyone who is brave enough to come down here and pet her.”

There was silence in the room.

No one moved an inch.

Off in the corner a Tesraki shifted nervously in his seat.

He had the lowest grade in the class and he knew it, but a hundred point os extra credit would bring him solidly up a letter grade or two…. but …. It’s teeth were so big, and it probably weighed as much as he did.

It was the look that Dr. Krill gave him that finally urged him onward. Dr. Krill knew, and was, surprisingly, trying to help him.

Knees shaking and hands about to tremble off the end of his wrists, the Tesraki stood, and made his slow way across the room. His ears were plastered flat against his head and his hands only shook worse. The dog grew larger and larger in his vision until she was sitting right before him. Even sitting down she was only a foot and a half shorter than he was, and the panic he was feeling was unbelievable.

He looked into her eyes, and she shifted forward on her paws, snout pushing towards him. He backed away and the entire class gasped. She rocked back on her feet and gently lowered herself to the ground, looking up at him with wide brown eyes.

When he didn’t move she slowly rolled until she had flipped over on her back, looking up at him with her head tilted

A tooth poked out from under her lip, and her tail beat against the ground.

“Look at that!” krill exclaimed, “That’s a submissive pose she would use on a human, she wants you to rub her chest and belly, go on, she’s giving your permission.”

Heart hammering in his ears, he leaned down, and with trembling fingers patted the coarse fur on her belly. She made a grumbling noise and he leaped back, but Dr. Krill encouraged him on saying that it was a good thing, and so he continued. The animal kicked her leg a couple of times and the Tesraki felt his entire body tingle with exhilaration.

He was…. He was petting a dangerous earth animal, just like the humans would!

Eventually he was dismissed back to his seat, and the dog rolled over onto her stomach, resting her head on her paws, which she began to lick absently, large ears still perked.

Dr Krill turned to look at them, “But of course this class it primarily about humans, is it not, and I strongly believe that there is really only one way to teach someone how to interact with humans properly….” he looked around at all of them, “And that, is by experience.”

The class shifted in their seats with exclamations of surprise, and from down one of the hallways they heard a sharp repeated thudding. The beat was so regular and rhythmic it managed to make many of the Vrul students dizzy and confused, nearly lolling out of their seats.

Dr Krill stood firm two hands on hips, two hands crossed over his chest.

And that is when the column of humans marched into the room in perfect time with each other, their botos hitting the floor such that the seats about them seemed to rattle. The vrul could barely keep in their seats and the other students leaned forward in awe.

Most of the humans wore strange clothing in a black and greyblue pattern all over their bodies, while the human at the front wore light grey and a strange adornment atop his head. The front of his chest glittered with small colorful ribbons and little glittering symbols though no one could have been sure what they meant.

The line of humans drew to the front of the room and then stopped.

“LEFT FACE!”

The group turned in unison with the sharp rattling of boots on the floor.”

“ATTENTION!” Their bodies snapped into position, hands raised to their temples as they looked forward perfectly still.” “AT EASE.”

The group of humans, together, fell back into a posture of relative relaxation. Feet spread, hands clasped gently behind their backs, and there they stood as Doctor Krill moved to stand next to them, “Well class, it is my pleasure to introduce you to the Omen’s Alpha team. These marines have trained for years in ground combat for most of their careers. IF there is ever a problem on your planet, this is likely who the humans will send as reinforcements.”

He turned to the last human, the one with the shiny uniform, “And it is my pleasure to introduce our ship’s admiral, who graciously agreed to come and bring his men today. I think you will recognize him from your textbooks.”

When the human removed his hat and turned to face them, there was a shocked muttering. They knew him from their textbooks, as HE was the very template for the classic anatomical diagram that adorned many of the pages in their textbooks.

It was essentially his system that they were examining whenever they discussed the systems of the human body.

“A couple of things I would like you all to note here, and those are the highly social structure in which humans operate. This structure includes a strict hierarchy that humans take pains to make known. The Single Star on the Admiral’s shoulder marks him as the highest ranking human in this room. He outranks me, these other humans and all of you as civilians. In the human world, he is to be listened to, and his orders to be obeyed. In certain cases humans will overlook the intelligence of what someone is saying, if they are of a higher rank in worry of social repercussion.”

He turned to walk towards the marines still standing in their straight line, “They rank in order from this symbol down to this symbol and each of them has an important task to preform. In the early days of our meeting humans, this strict social hierarchy was enough to make some assume that humans were in possession of some sort of hive mind. However, this is clearly not the case. Humans do not have a hive mind, but they do possess a social structure so rigid in some cases that it may seem like it. I would also like to note the diversity in human appearance. The only other species that we have seen with even remotely comparable diversity in facial, tonal, and physical structure are either the Drev, or the Tesraki.”

He turned to look at the groups and his antenna buzzed with amusement, “Now, in your groups, I want you all to pick one of the marines to come join you, and then for the rest of the class, I would like you to come up with a principal about humans to demonstrate at the end of the lecture.” he pointed to one of the first groups, “pick a human.”

There was some slight shuffling and discussion as they tried to determine which human would be best. In the end they went for the smallest human hoping beyond hope that they would be the least aggressive.

It was a real pity that they didn’t understand the rule about short humans, and maverick, in an attempt to get to her group, ignored all the rules of decorum and simply stepped up onto the desks clambering over with great dexterity until she plopped herself down in a seat in the middle of the group turning to look at them, “Yo.” She said, rather un ironically as they stared at each other in shock.

The other humans were quickly divided out and went to sit with their groups mostly enjoying being the center of attention.

There was one less marine than they needed, so the highest ranking human handed his hat to the dog sitting on the floor and walked over to slide into a seat with them, showing his teeth in a gesture that was supposed to be friendly.

All around the room chattering steadily grew as the aliens began asking the humans quick fire questions which some of the marines found hard to keep up with.

When asked a question Ramirez simply shook his head, “You know what you guys probably know way more about humans that me. I’m not a doctor, or anything else. I am a marine, I know how to do like four things effectively, I call them the four Fs, Fight, Fun, Food, and er well you get the picture.”

Maverick was having a very amusing time explaining teeth to the aliens, albeit rather inaccurately considering that teeth weren’t actually bone but a mixture of enamel covered dentine, but Krill let it go on for the factor of amusement.”

The nervous members of the admiral’s group had already been lulled into a sense of ease at the man’s friendly and relaxing demeanor, and he was attempting to do his best at explaining a question given to him by one of the aliens, and was doing a better job than the marines at taking their questions seriously.

“Well you see, when it comes to humans you are always going to be relatively safe. Over the past thousands of years, access to soft cooked foods have caused our jaws to grow relatively small and weak leaving little room for our teeth. So most humans don’t like food that is difficult to eat. We aren’t impressive enough predators that we can just strip flesh from bone. Plus thats a great way to catch diseases, furthermore, our diets and the way we eat really had to change as our vocal cords moved further up in our throats. Sure this gave us the ability to speak and mimic almost any alien language known, but it also made us very prone to choking on our own food.”

He sighed, “I remember this one time when I was five and I choked on a hard candy, scariest moment of my life probably, or at least in the top ten. If you don’t know what choking is, its when something gets stuck in your airway blocking your ability to breath and you die from oxygen loss, I know a horrible way to die.”

The conversations continued all around the room until there was only twenty minutes left in class, and he called a stop so that the groups could demonstrate a human principle that they had learned.

The first group brought Maverick up and one of the other students presented her with a rock No one was really sure why he had the rock, but the fact that it had big eyeballs drawn on it was enough for her to happily accept the gift and declare its name to be “The Boulder.” The class was surprised to find that it took such little effort for a human to pack bond with something, but the fact that she held the rock in two hands and occasionally stroked a finger down it was clear enough evidence that it was true.

The other students demonstrated a human’s depth perception by throwing an object and watching as Ramirez leaped out over the desks, hands stretched out to catch the object mid fly before landing back on the ground. The precision that it required to do that left the class very very impressed.

Someone else had a human try to identify what something was based on it’s smell, and he accurately guessed the difference between Vrull Texraki and Runid just based on their smell. They even brought in one of the other humans to which the test subject exclaimed,  “Don’t tell me it’s Ramirez and his bitch ass. I would know those fumes anywhere.”

One of the humans managed to demonstrate a very impressive climbing ability, and another one of the marines was pleased to demonstrate a human’s advanced vestibular sense by doing a backflip off of one of the desks. He tried to do it twice, but tripped upon anding and ended up on his back much to the amusement of the other humans.

That was also a good demonstration of the human’s empathy reflex as the humans winced and were silent for a moment before they began their ridicule.

If they remembered correctly, humans used teasing and humor as social bonding. They would never have made fun of their friend if he had actually been hurt, but the fact that he wasn’t made it clearly acceptable to joke as it let the other humans know that everything was ok.

The last group caught the admiral off guard by saying the word yawn and causing a chain reaction that made its way all around the room until it terminated with the dog, who also yawned, much to the surprise of the students.

Krill watched all of this with interest, keeping an eye on his more motivated students, and the ones who got along best with the humans. He was still trying to get permission from his superiors, but taking a few house students with them on the omen and back to earth would be a great PR move and also a good way to get some of his more invested students an experience that they could really take with them into their careers.

If one thing WAS  clear by the end of the lecture.

It was that Maverick was not going to give up her pet rock any time soon. 

[deadboyswalking]

send me a number and pairing and I’ll write you a drabble

No. 40 “Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?

(I think i’m physically incapable of writing a drabble. This is so long! Might re-purpose some of the dialogue for Shades but Shades!Dabi has a slightly different personality than the one in this drabble)

Dabi knew that he was being annoying, okay, he knew. But like his Quirk itching beneath his skin, begging for use, bothering his new boss whenever the mood struck him was a need that could not be ignored. He physically could not stop himself from bugging the man at every opportunity, narrowly avoiding decay on a daily basis, and today was no different. 

The two of them lay sprawled out on their stomachs on Shigaraki’s bedroom floor, looking about as much like two innocent schoolboys as two of the most wanted grown villains in Japan could. Swapping homework and textbooks for maps and reports, Shigaraki kicked his feet in the air as he rested his masked face on one hand, reading over the intel sheets for U.A.’s upcoming super-secret summer camp. Dabi was captivated by the sight as he rested his chin on his hands on the floor, especially the way that Shigaraki occasionally twisted one of his silver curls or the sight of his neck pulse beating beneath scarred, nearly translucent pale skin. He felt a little dizzy, was he getting sick? Tired? Too many nights smoking too many cigarettes? He shook his head to clear it.

“Either take half the stack of intel reports and get reading or I swear to god, I will turn you to dust and replace you with Spinner,” his boss suddenly said, crimson glare through dead fingers meeting Dabi’s shameless gaze. 

“What do you look like?” Dabi blurted out, still somewhat trapped in the fog. Shigaraki blinked at him.

“What’s your real name?” Shigaraki shot back.

“None of your fucking business,” came Dabi’s clipped, automatic response to the question. The response he’d locked into place for ten years. 

“There’s your answer, then,” Shigaraki replied, “Now either get to work or get the hell out of my room.”

Dabi, for once, shut the hell up and started reading, occasionally making notes for his first major mission as the Vanguard Action Squad leader. Not out of respect or anything, don’t be fucking stupid, but to regroup and think of how to rile Shigaraki up enough to make him remove the hand. He had a burning curiosity to satisfy, after all, and it was only about 10 minutes before the itch started again.

“Why hide? You’re at home. You ugly or something?” he needled, watching with satisfaction as Shigaraki’s shoulders tensed, along with the hand holding a report in a tight four-finger grip. Ooh, it had been a while since he’d made the boss get mad enough to lose control of his hands and decay something! Almost as satisfying as the chance to see his face at last. 

“Why do you care?” Shigaraki asked, but not in the harsh or hysterical way that Dabi had come to expect from him when he got annoyed. He sounded... a little bit sad. Dabi ignored his sudden and random urge to apologize and shrugged.

“Just wanna know. What if we need to I.D. your body or something?” 

“Bold of you to assume that you’ll outlive me, patches,” Shigaraki sighed, “But fuck, whatever. If I show you, promise you’ll drop the subject and get back to work?” 

“Sure, boss,” Dabi said, feigning nonchalance. His heart beat wildly in excitement, plus the smug feeling of getting the boss to cave. 

Shigaraki carefully pushed himself up off the floor, fingers tucked into palms and sat cross-legged. Dabi mirrored him, sitting back on his haunches.  

The leader reached up to his face and removed the hand with two fingers on each hand, gently setting it next to him on the floor. His head was still tilted down, face hidden by his curtain of long hair (Dabi wondered if it was as soft as it looked). Dabi watched Shigaraki take a deep, shuddering breath, then he finally lifted his head, pushing his hair back and....

Dabi stopped breathing, open-mouthed gaping at the man before him. There was no possible way that he was this pretty under the dead hand. Dabi had to be dreaming, right? A trick of the light? Without thinking, he shuffled a bit closer to get a better look at Shigaraki in the light, shoving papers out of his way. 

Huge crimson eyes locked on Dabi’s own, hypnotizing him in place. Up close, Shigaraki’s face was a combination of delicate and wild, a mess of contradictions. Pale skin, covered in scars and wrinkles. Full lips, chapped raw and marked by a long vertical scar. Those big, burning eyes, run through with another scar. Thick but messy silver hair, curling along his elegant but heavily scratched neck. Dabi had never seen anyone like him before and his heart thudded. If he couldn’t breathe before, he certainly couldn’t now, transfixed. Shigaraki finally dropped his gaze. 

“Okay, enough staring at my ugly mug,” Shigaraki said, ”Take about five steps back and get back to work.” He reached for the disembodied hand and Dabi watched his own stapled hand shoot out automatically, grabbing the wrist of a man who could turn him to dust in seconds. Idiot. He finally tore his eyes from Shigaraki’s pretty face as they both stared at their connected limbs. 

“Don’t,” Dabi breathed, “Don’t put it back on. I wanna see you.”

“Why?” Shigaraki muttered, “Why do you have to be such an asshole? I know I’m ugly, okay, don’t make fun of me. Just this once, leave it alone.”

He didn’t know. How could he not know? Just like that, Dabi’s mission for the day changed from ‘annoy Shigaraki into a murder attempt’ to ‘make Shigaraki realize how breathtaking he really is’. Hand still circled around Shigaraki’s wrist, Dabi pulled the other man up to a kneeling position, eye-to-eye. Shigaraki searched Dabi’s face for answers, concern or confusion at being manhandled clearly written across it. 

“Ugly? Never. Not at all,” Dabi said, surprised at his own softness. Crimson eyes widened as Dabi released Shigaraki’s wrist at last, cupping his face in his scarred hands. He leaned in, brain still in a fog, and met a full pair of warm, chapped lips with his own. He kissed Shigaraki gently, and the other man tentatively draped his arms around Dabi’s scarred neck, lips moving slowly as he kissed Dabi back. The kiss only lasted for a few seconds, but Dabi could stay in that golden bubble forever. It felt so real and so right. 

Shigaraki pulled back face, unsure eyes lighting up as a grin broke out on his face. God, he was beautiful like that. Dabi resolved to make him smile more often, but he couldn’t resist one last joke at his expense. 

“Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?” 

[honey-dewey]

When I’m Older and I’m Wiser

Pairing: Marcus Moreno/ Dentist Reader

Word Count: 4,262

Warnings: General medical fic involving dentistry and recovering from wisdom tooth surgery. Mentions of pills, blood, needles, and Marcus being very high. Some use of (F/N) (L/N), but not much.

How the hell Marcus Moreno has gotten this far in his life without getting his wisdom teeth removed is beyond you. But that fateful day comes, and honestly you really should just quit being the Heroic’s dentist because it’s probably taking years off your life. Mostly because your current patient is very cute, very high, and in your care for the next 24 hours, which is a dangerous combination.

“Ow.” 

Missy looked over from where she’d been getting a second glass of milk, turning her attention to her dad. Marcus was staring at the eggs on his plate, seemingly frozen. The look on his face could only be described as offended, as if the eggs had just bit him back. 

“What’s wrong?” She asked, sitting back down and nudging Marcus with her foot. 

“Hurts,” Marcus mumbled, putting a hand to his cheek. The last thing he had expected was pain upon eating scrambled eggs, but it was there. 

Missy shrugged, digging into her own eggs. “Could it be a cavity?” 

Marcus shook his head, moving his hand to his other cheek. “Both sides.” 

“Two cavities?” 

Giving Missy a playful dirty look, Marcus took another bite of eggs, face scrunching when the pain persisted. 

Missy raised an eyebrow, and Marcus suddenly regretted having a tiny powerhouse of a daughter. “When was the last time you saw Dr. (L/N)?”

“Uh,” Marcus squirmed a bit under her judgmental gaze, thinking back. “I made an appointment right before your mother passed, but then she died and we were in mourning, and then I quit actively hero-ing full time, and then I took a while off to raise you, and then I started my new job, and then I was kidnapped by aliens, so I dunno. A few years?” 

“A few years?” Missy said, cocking her head slightly. “You make me go every six months!” 

“You’re still growing!” Marcus defended. “I’d be an awful parent if I didn’t keep up with your health.” 

Missy sighed. “Please tell me you’ve seen an actual doctor recently.” 

Marcus nodded. “Saw my GP last month.” 

“Good,” Missy said. “Can you see Dr. (L/N) today please?” 

Again, Marcus nodded. “Y’know, sometimes I wonder just who’s running this household.” 

“It’s me.” 

“I know kiddo. I know.”

Their drive to Heroic headquarters was silent, but comfortable, as it usually was. Marcus parked, the throbbing in his jaw just getting worse as he and Missy got on the bus into headquarters. Missy broke off in the reception area, heading down the hall with a wave. Marcus waved back, smiling at her as she disappeared. 

Wiping his hands on his shirt, Marcus walked up to the receptionist, who gave him a friendly smile. “Hello Marcus, what can I do for you?” 

“Hey Rhea,” Marcus said, leaning slightly on the counter. “When’s my first meeting?” 

Rhea hummed, putting his name into the computer and clicking a few times. “Looks like your earliest meeting is at 2:30.” 

“Awesome,” Marcus groaned. “Does Dr. (L/N) have any available appointments in the morning?” 

“Has someone been skipping out on the dentist?” Rhea said jokingly, moving to a different computer screen. “Was it Missy who made you go?” 

“Yeah.” 

Rhea laughed. “That kid,” she said softly. “And you’re in luck. Dr. (L/N) has an available appointment in half an hour, at nine. I’ll get you set up with it, okay?” 

Marcus sighed. “Yeah, that works. Thank you Rhea. I’ll see you later.” 

He waited for his appointment in the hero lounge, reading a book and chewing absently on his thumb nail. When his watch read ten 'til nine, he put his book in his bag and began to make his way down to the medical wing of the building. 

The medical wing was not one Marcus was in frequently. He knew some of the staff, but not all of them. But he waved to them all the same, eventually reaching the dentist’s section with five minutes to spare. 

“Mr. Moreno!” The nurse behind the reception counter said cheerily. “I thought it had to be a mistake when I saw you had an appointment.” 

“Please,” Marcus said. “Just Marcus will do.” 

The nurse nodded. “Of course. The doctor will be right out. You’re her first of the day, and honestly, I think she thought your name was a typo too. It’s been too long.” 

Marcus sighed. “Yeah. Missy chewed me out about that earlier.” 

“I’ll bet.” The nurse gestured to a row of chairs. “Take a seat. I’ll go see if the doc is ready.” 

Marcus sat down, rubbing his hands up and down his thighs in an effort to calm his nerves. 

“Moreno?” 

He looked up, heart suddenly beating fast. Standing in the doorway that separated the waiting room from the actual office was Dr. (L/N), looking very expectant and a tiny bit disappointed. 

———

Marcus stood, following you back into the office. His steps behind you were nervous, a high contrast to the confident clicking of your shoes. 

“Long time no see,” you said, pushing open a door and gesturing Marcus into the exam room. “What finally brought you back?” 

“Aside from Missy?” Marcus asked, sitting in the chair and rocking his left foot back and forth on the ankle. “I woke up this morning and it hurt to eat breakfast.” 

You nodded, washing your hands and donning a pair of gloves. “And there wasn’t any pain last night?” 

“Maybe a tiny bit.” Marcus watched you sit on a rolling stool, moving so you were just at his side. “But nothing I was worried about.” 

You crossed your legs, thinking. “Did you do any intense training in the past 24 hours?”

“Nothing involving my head.” 

“Well then it’s probably just a cavity or two,” you decided, rolling closer to Marcus’s head and putting both feet on the floor. “Let’s take a look, get some x-rays, and see if we can’t have you feeling better soon.” 

You adjusted the chair so Marcus was staring up at the ceiling, and at a large space mobile you’d hung ages ago. “Ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be.” 

You smiled, pulling a mask up over your nose. “Relax Marcus. I’m not gonna hurt you on purpose.” 

Marcus still squirmed a bit as you examined his mouth, your brows knitting tighter and tighter as you realized this wasn’t a simple case of a few cavities. 

“Marcus,” you said slowly, sitting him up and tugging your mask down under your chin. “You’re in your forties, right?”

“Yeah?” 

“Please tell me you don’t still have your wisdom teeth.” 

Marcus shrugged. “I don’t know. Why? Is that a bad thing?” 

“Most people have theirs removed when they’re teenagers,” you explained, pulling down the x-ray machine. “That way, there’s less risk of nerve damage. It’s not a bad thing to have them removed later in life, but it does come with higher risks.” 

“Oh.” The reassurance didn’t comfort Marcus much as you softly directed him through the various x-rays. 

You pulled the piece of plastic out of his mouth as the final x-ray hit your computer. “Sorry about that,” you said, watching Marcus rub his face. “I know it sucks. But, good news, I have an answer for you.” 

You let Marcus turn so he was facing your computer. “It’s definitely your wisdom teeth,” you said, tugging your gloves off and pointing at the computer screen. “See? All four of them are coming in, which is impressive. I can probably take them out tomorrow, honestly. Those suckers can get really painful really fast, so we’re gonna want to take care of it as soon as possible.” 

Marcus paled. “Tomorrow?” 

“That would be best.” You put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’ll be okay. I do one of these surgeries like, once a month. I know what I’m doing, and you’re going to be just fine.” 

“Okay,” Marcus said, nodding and staring at you. “I believe you.” 

You smiled. “Perfect. So I can schedule your surgery for super early tomorrow, I’m thinking around seven, maybe seven thirty. We wanna get it out of the way early because you can’t eat anything for twelve hours beforehand.” As you explained, you gathered some papers from a desk drawer. “I assume you want general anesthesia.” 

“Is that the option where I sleep through it all?” 

“Yep,” you said, stapling the papers together and handing them to Marcus. “As per protocol, we’re going to need reassurance you’ll be with a responsible adult guardian for at least forty eight, if not seventy two hours post surgery. The first twelve to twenty hour can be brutal, so you definitely want someone there during that.”

Marcus shook his head. “I haven’t got anyone besides my mom, who I assumed would be taking Missy while I healed.” 

“That’s okay,” you promised. “We can get someone here to care for you for two days. You’d have to stay here at headquarters, but you’d be comfortable and cared for. Whatever you do, I’ll call in some pain prescriptions and the like for you to pick up after work today. Just see the pharmacy out front and they’ll give the pills to you.” 

You stood, gesturing Marcus up. “So, to recap. Get here early tomorrow, no food after seven tonight, and wear comfy clothes. Most patients go with sweatpants, but you go with whatever is most comfortable to you. Bring a change of pyjamas and your prescriptions if you’re staying with us, and I’ll see you tomorrow Mr. Moreno,” you said as you led him back to the lobby. 

Tomorrow came faster than anticipated, and before you knew it, it was seven AM and you were waiting for Marcus with your nurse beside you. 

“Damn his mouth is messed up,” the nurse mumbled, looking over the x-rays. “All four?” 

“All four,” you agreed, smiling as the lobby door opened. “Mr. Moreno! Follow me. I assume you stuck with the rules I gave you yesterday?” 

“Yeah,” Marcus said, handing you the paper bag with his prescriptions and a small drawstring bag that presumably had clothes in it. “I’m gonna be staying here.” 

“Perfect,” you said, pushing open the operating room door. “I see we’re dressed for the occasion.” 

Marcus turned red, looking down at his soft black sleep pants and a worn out Fleetwood Mac shirt. “Yeah.” 

You put Marcus’s stuff down on the counter, handing him a small white cup. “That is a super powerful mouthwash,” you explained. “Take it, and do try and keep it in your mouth for a minute. I know it tastes horrible.” 

Marcus did try, but he only made it to thirty seconds before he had to spit out the disgustingly bitter mouthwash.��

You laughed at his face, pulling on your gloves. “Alright Marcus, that works.” 

He smiled softly, relaxing a tiny bit. “Thanks.” 

“I wouldn’t thank anyone who made me take that stuff,” you said, grabbing a thin tube and holding it out. “That goes under your nose and over your ears, just like that,” you praised as Marcus threaded the tube over his ears. “Now, can I see your hand?” 

Marcus let you clip a heart rate monitor to his right index finger, watching as you walked to his other side and held up the final thing. “And last, but not least.” 

Immediately, Marcus looked extremely nervous again. You put down the IV line and rubbed his shoulder, trying to work away some of the tension. “Hey. Look at me. Just a pinch, and then you can take a nice long nap, okay? Deep breaths Marcus, deep breaths.” 

Marcus took a breath, and you carefully took your hand off his shoulder. You slowly directed his head onto the chair’s headrest, still murmuring reassurances. “That’s it. Count the stars on my mobile out loud. I can’t remember how many there are.” 

“Okay.” Marcus looked up, slowly counting out loud as you found his vein and stuck him with the IV line as quickly as you could. You administered some of the anesthesia, smiling as Marcus’s numbers began to slip and slide, until he wasn’t even counting as much as he was just mumbling out random mushy words. 

“Goodnight Marcus.” 

You gestured the nurse in, and she smiled, taking Marcus’s glasses and setting them on top of his other things. You finished off the anesthesia, watching Marcus’s eyes close. 

When he woke again, it was to you pulling the IV line out and taping a cotton ball to his arm. “Wa’s happ’nin’?” He slurred around the cotton and the drugs. 

“The surgery was a success,” you explained softly, despite Marcus not really understanding you. “All four teeth came out with no issue, and we’re about to take you to recovery. Oh, Marcus, keep your head up.” 

Marcus struggled to keep his head upright, and you giggled, holding your hands out. “C’mon. Let’s get you into a real bed.” 

You’d been through this with many patients before Marcus, but he seemed to be a stand-out, as you had some trouble getting him in the wheelchair and down the hallways into the recovery wing. He definitely fell under the ever entertaining category of ‘toddler high’ patients. His slurred words and puppy dog eyes made you laugh more than once on your way to his room. You actually had to stop and pause to laugh when he slurred out that he thought you were an Angel. He simply watched you with an exaggerated worried expression, half his words getting lost as he tried to mumble something out. 

“What was that Marcus?” You asked, wiping your eyes and continuing down the hall with him. 

“You’re tho prethy.” He said, head tipping down. 

“Head up,” you coaxed softly, smiling despite yourself. “Look, there’s your room.” 

Getting him in the room, which was more of a small, one person condo space, was thankfully the hardest part. But once you were in, he was very sleepy putty in your hands. 

“Okay Marcus,” you said gently, helping him out of the wheelchair and onto the couch, piling a few pillows beneath his head “Do you want anything before you go to sleep?” 

Marcus looked up at you. Between his cotton stuffed cheeks and his wide doe eyes, he looked a tiny bit ridiculous. You smiled, pulling out your phone and snapping a quick picture while he was still drugged as hell. “Marcus?” 

“Mittenth.” 

“What?” 

Marcus pointed to his bag. “Mittenth.” 

You walked over to the bag, opening it up and finding a black and white stuffed cat right on top. “Oh. Mittens.” 

You handed the cat to Marcus, who immediately snuggled it to his chest and rolled over a bit, falling asleep instantly. 

Again, you couldn’t help but stare. He looked so innocent like this, all curled up and sleeping. You hesitated to call him adorable, but if the shoe fit.

You sighed, picking up your phone and trailing into the single bedroom. Changing quickly into your leisure clothes, you texted one of the people at the pharmacy and requested a few ice packs and a wisdom tooth slushee. Both things were delivered in a matter of minutes, and you placed them securely in the small freezer to wait for Marcus. 

When he woke up, he was significantly less high. Looking around, Marcus poked his cheeks and made a face. “I can’t feel my nose.” 

“The entire bottom half of your face is numb,” you pointed out from your position at the two person table in the kitchen. “And believe me, you’re gonna want it to stay that way.” 

Marcus sat up, looking over at you. “I’m hungry.” 

“No solids for a while,” you told him, standing and grabbing his slushee. “But you can have this. And before you ask, yes you have to use the spoon.” 

Marcus pouted, but took the slushee. “But the cotton.” 

You nodded, settling on the couch next to him. “Open wide.” 

Marcus did, allowing you to shove two fingers into his mouth and fish out the cotton. “Still bleeding,” you mumbled to yourself. “We’ll shove more in there when you’re done. For now,” You tipped the slushee at him. “Eat up.” 

You turned your attention to the TV while Marcus ate slowly, taking tiny bites and occasionally sticking his tongue out. “It’s really numb.” 

“That’ll fade by tomorrow morning,” you promised. “At noon I want you to take your first pills. Then you get more at one.” 

Again, Marcus pouted, but simply sank lower into the couch cushions and mindlessly watched whatever was on TV. “Is my face swelling?” 

You shrugged. “No more than other patients. But yeah, just a bit.” 

“Do I look stupid?” 

The question made you laugh. “Marcus, I’ve had so many ridiculous patients. You’re no worse than some of my other ones, I promise.” 

Marcus accepted this and continued to take small bites of his slushee. “Why’s it gotta be blue?” 

“Because blue isn’t even remotely close to red.” You didn’t even look up as you answered. “Same goes for when little kids get teeth pulled. You want something that’s soft, easy to swallow, and isn’t the color of blood.” 

“Oh.” 

You nodded. “Yeah. How’s your mouth feeling?” 

Marcus mulled it over, eventually deciding on saying “Kinda achy.” 

“I’ll give you those pills soon,” you said. “It’s gonna be tricky, considering any kind of anything touching those holes in your mouth is gonna hurt like a bitch.” 

“Even water?” 

“Even water.” 

Marcus groaned, and you shrugged. “Sorry. But you’re the one who waited until now to do this.” 

When Marcus finished his slushee, you grabbed a pill bottle off the kitchen counter, quickly glancing at the label and nodding. “Two of these,” you said, opening a cabinet and taking out a glass. “Come here.” 

Marcus trudged over, leaning heavily against the counter’s edge. You put the two round pills on the counter, along with the glass of water. “Best to do it quickly. And one at a time.”  

Picking up one of the pills, Marcus carefully put it on his tongue, taking the glass with a hesitant hand. He took a sip, swallowing quickly and audibly. “Can’t I use a straw?” 

“Yeah,” you said sarcastically. “If you want dry socket, go ahead.” 

“Do I want to know what that is?” 

“Nope.” You pushed the second pill towards Marcus. “Take that, then you can lay back down.” 

Marcus sighed, mirroring his previous action. However, instead of simply swallowing with a tight face, Marcus started, eyes filling with tears as he spit the water into the sink, the pill clattering against the metal. 

You immediately began to worry as Marcus cried. It wasn’t a small tear or two either. He was full on sobbing, gripping the edges of the sink so tight his knuckles went white. 

“Marcus,” you murmured, putting a hand on his arm. He looked up at you, and you put on your most comforting smile. “Hey, it’s okay.” You picked up a towel and slowly wiped the residual water off his face. “C’mere.” 

He collapsed into your arms, going limp and continuing to cry. You rubbed his back, heart tightening whenever he let out a whimper of “hurts.” 

“I know,” you said softly. “I know it hurts. But you have to take the pills.” 

“Can’t,” Marcus hiccuped, burying himself deeper into your sweater. 

“Marcus,” you said firmly, slowly untangling him from you. “I know it hurts. But you’ll be in more pain from not taking the pills. Please, for me?” 

He took a breath. “Can we watch TV afterwards?” 

You smiled. “Of course. I can give you ice for the swelling too.��� 

Marcus nodded, looking into the sink. “Do I take that one?” 

“No,” you said, fishing a new pill out of the container. “It’s in the sink, I’m not gonna take that risk. Here.” 

Marcus stared at the unassuming white pill in his hand. “Which one is this?” 

“The acetaminophen.” 

“The what?” 

“Tylenol.” 

Marcus nodded, popping the pill into his mouth and quickly gulping down the water. This time, he avoided hitting his stitches and simply handed you the glass. “I’m not doing that again.” 

You took the glass, putting it in the sink. “You have more pills to take in an hour.” 

Marcus groaned. “TV?” 

“Of course,” you said, walking to the couch and smiling as Marcus fell onto it. “What do you wanna watch?” 

Marcus turned his red rimmed puppy dog eyes on you. “Say Yes to the Dress?” 

You laughed. “Are you serious? We can, but that’s not what I expected at all.” 

“I like trash TV when I feel terrible.” Marcus grabbed Mittens and cuddled the stuffed cat to his chest. 

You found the show, setting it up and standing. “More cotton. You're probably still bleeding, and we definitely don’t want that. Open.” 

It took some finessing to get two more wads of cotton into Marcus’s mouth, but you succeeded, despite his complaints of feeling like a cartoon chipmunk. 

 “I’m gonna go start on dinner,” you said.  “Are you gonna be okay here?” 

Marcus pouted. “Do you have to start now?” 

“Yeah.” You gestured to the kitchen. “Don’t worry, I’ll only be gone for twenty minutes. Soup just needs to sit for a while.” 

Slightly consoled, Marcus zoned out at the TV while you got to work making a simple chicken noodle soup. 

“Done,” you said, wiping your hands and walking back to the couch twenty minutes later. “Marcus, are you still awake?” 

Marcus grumbled, holding his hands out. “C’mere.” 

You passed him an ice pack, and he made a face. “Not what I want.” 

“What do you want?” 

As if somehow knowing they were your kryptonite, Marcus gave you his puppy dog eyes. “Wanna hold you.” 

You sighed, but crawled into his arms anyway. When you finally settled, he was on his back, head and neck propped up on the arm of the couch, and you were on your side between the back of the couch and Marcus. He was warm, wrapping one arm loosely over your waist and using the other hand to press the ice into his cheek. 

You quickly slid into a nice comfortable headspace, occasionally smiling when Marcus commented on the wedding dresses on screen. 

“You dropped Mittens,” you realized after a while, shuffling to grab the discarded toy from the floor. 

Marcus took Mittens, gently placing the cat on his chest, so that it was secure on his sternum. 

“Does Mittens belong to Missy?” 

“Belonged to Clara.” 

“Oh.” You saw the change in demeanor, noticed how Marcus’s face steeled when he said her name. He rarely talked about Clara, especially at work. “I’m-“ 

“Nah,” Marcus said, shaking his head. “It’s the past. I’m happy now, and so is Mittens.” 

You nestled deeper into his chest. “Happy right now?” 

“Definitely happy right now,” Marcus said softly. “Very happy, even though I can’t feel my face.” 

“Even if you could,” you mumbled, knowing where this was headed. “You can’t kiss anyone for a while.” 

Marcus grinned. “I guess we’ll just have to wait then, won’t we?” 

You mirrored his mischievous smile. “You can’t kiss,” you said, scooting upwards, until you were laying on top of Marcus, your belly on his ribs. “But I can.” 

You lay gentle kisses across his cheeks, smiling when he laughed at your insistence upon kissing his nose. His cheeks were cold from the ice and tender from the swelling, but Marcus never tried to stop you, so you continued downwards, kissing the pulse points on his neck. 

“You’re a damn tease,”  Marcus huffed. 

You simply smiled into his skin and tugged the collar of his shirt down, pressing firm kisses into the points of his collarbones.

“Hey,” Marcus nudged your head. “Can we finish this when I don’t have a mouth of stitches? I still can’t feel my tongue.” 

“Of course,” you said, pushing his shirt collar back up and laying your head on his sternum. “How long?” 

“Hm?” 

You shrugged, watching a woman try on a stunning wedding dress on the TV. “How long have you wanted to kiss me?” 

Marcus thought it over. “Last year,” he finally decided. “When Missy had three teeth out. You were so kind, and I just melted.” 

“But you didn’t fall in love hard enough to ever pay me a visit,” you teased, tracing the faded symbol on his shirt. 

“Didn’t ever want to go under and realize I’d spilled everything,” Marcus confessed. 

You smiled. “Too late. You said I looked like an Angel in the hallway.” 

Marcus turned bright red, and you laughed at him. “It’s okay,” you promised, kissing his cheek that didn’t have the ice pack. “I think you’re pretty handsome yourself.” 

That night, after dinner and more pills and ice cream for dessert, you and Marcus settled down in the only bedroom, clinging to each other as if your lives depended on it. 

Waking up was hard. Marcus was well enough to go home, most of the swelling gone and the numbness completely faded. 

“So,” you clicked down the halls of the dentist’s office, Marcus behind you. “No really hot liquids for another few days, and try not to do solids until then either. That antibacterial mouthwash should be used twice a day, and you can start brushing your teeth again in two days. Remember, no straws, take your pills, keep icing your cheeks, and if I see you in this office before this time next week, I will be calling your mother.” 

Marcus nodded as you pulled open the lobby door, where Anita and Missy were waiting. “Anything else Doctor?” 

You shook your head. “You should be all clear Mr. Moreno. I’ll be seeing you for your check-up next week. Don’t you go skipping out on me now.” 

Marcus smiled. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he promised, leaning a bit closer to you. “And I cannot wait to kiss you for real.” 

He pulled away, leaving you flushed and dizzy. “See you next week Doctor.” 

“See you next week Mr. Moreno.”

If you liked this, I do dialogue prompt requests as well! Go request something if you want!

[imagines-to-quench-thirst]

NEON GIFT

Robert Pattinson! Batman x reader headcanon

Anon asked: Well given the trailer of the new Batman, the character is really angsty emokid with eyeliner riding a motorbike and soundtrack is Nirvana, so maybe something dark and heavy and of course smutty alone time with Batman? Neon colors appreciated😍😍😍

Hope you like it anon. Enjoy.

🦇Now, let's try a hand at this

-You know that from all song from Nirvana Bruce's staple is Silver

-He finds strange comfort in the sad lyrics when he feels down in the slumps

-Especially when he needs to focus on fixing his motorbike

-He just sits cross-legged on the Batcave floor and works away

-But what he didn't expect from life is you coming in his Batcave holding a tiny gift

-He drops the wrench question the subject of the box

'A gift?'

'No, a bomb... Of course... Dumbass.'

-he grins at your remark and opens the box above the bike

-removing the lid he finds small plexiglass with a black stand

'What’s that?'

'Clue detective, you need a power source.'

-seeing the white power cable he finds a socket putting it in

-the power sprung the glass to life showing a small neon text reading

Dumbass who reads

-Bruce giggles in seconds as he asks

'Thanks, I guess.'

'It's a custom made one so you better appreciate it. That's my mom's favorite saying. It cost me 75 dollars plus free shipping.'

-he looks down at the neon sing once again finding a silver lining in it

'Thanks. Really. How can I repay you?'

'Well since it is a quiet night you could give me a ride on the new and improved bike.'

-he gives in and all of the sudden you are riding with him in front as you go across town speeding through the empty streets seeing that you are exiting the city and going on the edges of it climbing up an upright road that seemingly leads to nowhere

'Don't worry we are almost there.'

-the bike speeds up and you had to cling tighter around his waist feeling the wind go around you as Bruce protected you from the intense wind

-closing your eyes you felt the bike slow down as your eyes open you saw a glimpse a scenery you didn't expect to see in your lifetime

-hurriedly going off the bike you passed Bruce and strolling to the edge seeing Gotham under your gaze seeing the city lights shining into the sky and many buildings that you never saw in Gotham questioning your own city

'Like it?'

'Love it. It's extremely beautiful.'

'I'm glad you liked it.'

-his hand held yours as you felt the wanting need to kiss at this moment

-turning to face him you stepped closer as you felt his other hand lay on your cheek feeling the warm heat that radiates from his strong hands

-his lips landed on yours and the ever so familiar feeling of love and peace blossomed in front of you

-the kisses pilled upon each other and you felt time just slow down letting your for once enjoy yourself

-his hands pulled you needingly as if telling you not to let him go, ever

-his hands grabbed your waist staying in place not wanting to ruin this moment in any inappropriate way

-his hands felt like godsent and you wanted them all over your body so you gave him a nudge putting his hand on your ass feeling his handgrip your flesh roughly making you moan in his mouth

-your own hands wandered over his toned body slipping under his jacket and shirt feeling the bulging muscles as you move them up and down feeling his every muscle as well as his scars

-gosh you wanted to protect this emo manchild

'Let's go back to my place.'

-nothing else was needed to be said as you two drove back into the Batcave

-oh god, how good it felt being pushed over the computer in the Batcave over the many controls as you felt his hands work on your body squeezing and worshiping every inch

-his hands pressed violently against the buttons and all of the suddenly Curt Cobain's voice screams behind you

I love myself better than you

I know it's wrong so what should I do?

-in the sudden shock you move away feeling your ears curse at you for being so damn close to the speakers as Bruce turns it off

'Sorry.'

'It's okay. I was just startled.'

-as much as his libido is cockblocked he loves these moments of laughter in the not most inappropriate time

-he found stillness at the moment when he saw your smile gracing your face

'Let's go to our bedroom.'

'Why? We can do it here.'

'Well... With my luck today if we stay here Alfred may come down.'

'True. Let's go and you can screw my brains out.'

[cheeriecherry]

Space Between [Aizawa Shouta x F!Reader x Yamada Hizashi] [2/9]

EraserMic x Reader

Part 2/8

Warnings: depictions of PTSD, one (1) mention of vomiting (nothing graphic), very brief mention of violence (also nothing graphic), your friends being concerned about you, hugs

You wake up the next morning with a very sore, very stiff neck. You appreciate your friends putting you up for a while, but between the two of them they had terrible taste in furniture. In fact, you’re pretty certain their couch is the same couch you three shared when you first got your own place together…

You sit up on the lumpy cushions, wincing when your spine crackles. When you move to stand you find that you can’t, held in place by previously unnoticed twin weights on your blanketed legs. Your heart rate speeds up for a moment, before you realize it’s just a pair of cats sleeping on you.

You carefully finagle your way out from under them, taking extra care not to rouse or wake them. One of them chirps and stretches, and you pause, but she quickly falls back to sleep, tucked up against her companion.

Once you’re free, you wander towards the kitchen to find something to eat. Hizashi had offered to order takeout last night, but you were nearly dead on your feet by the time you walked into the house. You’d gone straight to bed, and now you had to deal with the stomach cramps.

You search around in the pantry and fridge for a while, finding few things more than rice, bread, condiments, and a couple canned goods. It made sense, considering how busy your friends were, but it was also a little ridiculous.

“You’d think two grown men could handle some grocery shopping,” you mumble, and settle on some rice, eggs, and toast. Not your ideal breakfast, but it was better than nothing.

You prepare the rice and set a pan on the stove in a haze, still muddled with sleep. Once both are sufficiently rinsed and warming, you set the rice off to cook and plop down at the kitchen table, where you notice a folded paper sitting. With your name on it.

Curious, you flip it open, instantly recognizing Hizashi’s messy writing.

‘Sho and I had to head out early, but we didn’t want to wake you. You were tossing a lot in your sleep.’

You think briefly back to the dreams you’d had, if you’d even had any. You usually had nightmares, but oftentimes you didn’t remember them, only waking with a hollow and sinking feeling in your chest.

‘You’ve got free run of the place, so use and eat what you want. Be warned, there’s not a lot in the fridge…we don’t really eat at home much. If you need the internet, Sho’s laptop is in the office across from the bedroom. See you tonight around ten!

-H’

You smile at the note, the signature consisting of a single letter, with a poor rendition of a cockatiel and a cat beside it.

You’re glad they have each other, you decide, and glad they’ve gotten together. It shouldn’t have been so much of a surprise to you, Hizashi was always more interested in Shouta than he was you. Sure, he doted on you when you were kids, but when Shouta came into the picture his attention shifted. You admit you had been a little jealous in the beginning, but now…

Maybe you’d just supposed it would always be the three of you together. You’d never bothered with dating or relationships, aside from the feelings you harboured for your best friends. You never saw the point, always content and happy to be with the two of them, even if it wasn’t romantic. They had been your rocks, your safe place, in years past.

You hadn’t comprehended that your interests could be so drastically different.

“C’mon, shake it off, stupid. They’re happy together, don’t ruin it with your feelings.” You run your hands down your face, sighing deeply. The rice would be ready soon, so you might as well get started on the eggs.

You butter a piece of bread and cut a hole out of the center, dropping it in the frying pan and cracking an egg into it. 

Egg In A Hole, one of the first things you’d ever learned to cook. You were seven when you’d first tried it, and Hizashi had been there as well. You’d been at your house after school and he’d claimed to be hungry, and you -ever wanting to impress him- had set a stool in front of the stove and made him the fanciest meal you could think of.

Looking back, you’re amazed you didn’t burn or undercook anything. He had claimed it was the most amazing thing he’d ever tasted, and for years it was a staple whenever you hung out… he’d hopped off that train by the time you were twelve, but every so often you’d still made him Eggs In A Hole.

Now it’s more of a comfort, more of you holding on to a time long passed. Things were different now, you were different, your friends were different-

“Shit!” you hiss, as the toast starts to burn in one corner, smoking up the kitchen. You turn the fan on and flip it over to cook the other side, sighing in relief when the egg doesn’t splatter everywhere.

You’re glad you weren’t sent undercover as a cook on your mission. Your skills in the kitchen are sub par at best, and where you’d been, nothing less than perfection was accepted. Anything burnt or under-seasoned would have been air for punishment; fingernails ripped off, palms cut up, thumbs broken. Anything that would further hinder work…and result in more punishment.

That was just the kind of person your target was. A rich american woman with a taste for torture, and a quirk that allowed her to feast on and destroy the hope in others. She had ‘hired’ you as a silent killer, despite the fact that she could easily kill people herself…or make them kill themselves.

You squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath, willing the thoughts away. You weren’t there anymore. You were here, with Hizashi, with Shouta. Safe. Safe.

You scoop the eggs and toast onto a plate, but your stomach has already turned. Memories didn’t pair well with breakfast, it seemed.

Once the rice is finished cooking, you wrap everything up and set it in the fridge for later, and continue going about your day.

—-

Ten PM rolls around before you know it, and your friends walk through the front door. You’ve stolen Shouta’s laptop from the office and moved it to the couch, where you now sit staring intensely at the screen.

The two of them watch you for a moment. If your stillness, posture, and bloodshot eyes are anything to go by, you’ve been like that for a while.

“You’re gonna hurt your back sitting like that,” Shouta says, kicking his boots off and wandering further into the house.

“In a second,” you reply, waving him off.

Hizashi sighs dramatically, crossing his arms. “She’s not even paying attention, Sho. We could be making out right now, and she wouldn’t even notice. Hey, watch this-”

“Hizashi,” you threaten, not looking away from the screen, “if you pull your pants down, I’ll shave your head while you sleep.”

“No fun.” But he removes his hands from his jeans anyways.

Shouta meanders up behind you, leaning over the back of the couch to see what you’re so intent on. “What’s got you so focused?” he asks, scanning the page you’re reading, “You were never like this in school.”

You remain stoic, missing the joke completely. “Conviction trials,” you explain, “I want to make sure every single one of those rich pricks I outed gets put behind bars. I’ve been scrounging news outlets since five.”

“And?”

“Nothing.” You sit up straighter, stretching your back and rubbing at your eyes. “I gave the commission enough information to put these people in prison for life! Why haven’t they been brought in yet!”

“You’ve only been out for a little while. These things take time.” His tone is gentle and concerned, but to your addled brain it feels more patronizing.

You fist your hair in your hands and tug. “I gave them hideouts, names, faces, addresses, bank numbers, concrete evidence against these people! A few days should be enough time to find them! They’re top priority criminals! They should be caught by now!”

A warm hand rests on your shoulder, jarring you violently out of your thoughts. You tense beneath the touch, electricity prickling down your arm, and you look up at him with wide eyes.

“Breathe,” he says.

You breathe.

He squeezes your shoulder slightly, comfortingly. “It’ll happen. Give the media time to catch up.”

You look away from him, finding a spot on the floor to stare at, and slump forward in defeat. “If it gets out that I was the snitch, too…”

The room is quiet for a couple beats as your words register, and the hand on your shoulder rubs soft circles into your skin. “Your partner…they were killed, weren’t they.” It’s not a question, merely an observation.

You nod.

“I can’t let them find me, Shouta. The way these people kill their targets-”

“You’re safe here, Y/N. Always. The chances of these criminals getting into the country undetected is between slim and none. Their faces will be plastered on every single no-fly list, every district wanted list.”

“They can do whatever they want, as long as they have the money.” You turn back to the laptop, continuing to scroll around various news outlets. “Even once they’re in prison, they’ll have outside connections. If they find out it was me who outed their whole operation, I’ll have a target on my back for the rest of my life.”

Shouta lets go of your shoulder, and walks around the couch to take a seat beside you, knees bumping against yours.

“There are…resources,” he begins, choosing his words carefully, “for heroes who’ve been undercover. To help them readjust to everyday life-”

“I don’t need a therapist,” you hiss, scowling. “I need…I need-”

A pair of hands scoops the laptop out of your grip, flipping it closed and setting it aside. But before you can complain, your now-warmed-up plate of food from that morning is set in your lap, and Hizashi takes a seat on your other side.

“If you don’t want a therapist, then at least take care of yourself, okay? Eat.”

Your scowl persists as you chew.

—-

You jolt awake on the couch at an unbeknownst hour of the morning, covered head to toe in a thin sheen of sweat. Your head is spinning and your ears are ringing, and you barely make it to the bathroom before you’re dry heaving into the sink. Nothing comes up, save for bitter bile, but you’re exhausted once the short wave of nausea passes.

You rinse your mouth and the sink out, and splash some water on your face. With any luck, you won’t have woken anyone, but when you exit the bathroom you nearly walk face first into Shouta, who’s leaning beside the door.

“It sounded like you were getting sick.” His tone isn’t accusing, but his posture puts your guard up.

“Nothing came out, so it’s fine.”

You wander back to the living room, hoping to leave the conversation, but he only follows.

“Why were you getting sick in the first place?”

“I dunno,” you grumble tensely, “adrenaline reaction maybe? Who’s to say why people puke.”

He’s quiet for several moments, observing you, your fidgeting, your agitation. You feel like you’re under a microscope, with the way he’s looking at you.

“What happened to you out there?” he asks.

“Stuff,” you mutter.

I got people killed.

“Stuff that gives you nightmares every time you sleep?”

“I don’t need a therapist.”

I don’t deserve to come back from this.

“Your sleep-yelling woke me up. You’re lucky Hizashi wears earplugs.”

You turn away from him and grab your water bottle off the coffee table, plopping grumpily onto the couch. Shouta hesitates for a moment before finding a seat beside you again. Warmth radiates off his body, which is pressed comfortingly against your side. You can feel the tension easing out of your shoulders in his presence.

“What’s so bad about therapists, anyways?” he asks, genuinely curious. “Lots of people need them. Hizashi and I have both seen a couple over the years.”

“I don’t need someone to tell me there’s something wrong with me.”

Shouta sighs. “That’s not what they do, and you know it. What’s the real reason?”

You silently curse his ability to read you like a book, to always somehow know when you’re lying. But…you’re not sure you could tell him the truth.

“I just…don’t like the idea, okay? Leave it at that.”

He watches you silently, searching in your averted gaze for any willingness to open up, but he finds only sadness…and shame. “I should head back to bed, then. Early morning, and whatnot. Try and get some more sleep.”

He rises off the couch, and without thinking you follow suit, and quickly envelope him in a hug.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle, burying your face in his chest. He’s surprised for a moment, but is quick to wrap his arms around you, holding you tight while you tremble against him. 

He pats small circles into you back, keeping you close until your breathing begins to even out. “Just…don’t let this go on for too long, okay?” It’s the closest you’ve ever heard him to begging, “I don’t know what happened to you out there, but you’re obviously suffering.”

You pull away slightly, tired and defeated, and nod. “I’ll look into it. Those resources you mentioned. Okay?”

You release each other fully, and he gives you one last pat to the head.

“Okay. Now, really, try and get some more sleep.”

[plush-rabbit]

Avaricious

Word Count: 2.7K

A/N: Not necessarily what was asked but,,,, Sorry for the late response!!

It’s late. Or early, depending who you ask. The sky is blue, the world covered in a soft blue hue, rays of sun creeping past the horizon and shining the edge of the line in a pale green. Birds tweet and boots step on a fallen leaf, the crunch of it echoing across the empty streets. It’s empty and silent, the world frozen and not a car is in sight, not a single breath of a person and Dabi is sure that if he were to voice the comment aloud, it would all come to ruin- the tranquility of it all would be ruin and he would be forced to do something twisted about it.

The key fits perfectly in his hand, warm and the base of it slightly burned, metal that has a darker shade to it due to high emotions and unclear thoughts. It slips into your lock and with a soft click, the door is shut behind him, the blue gone and chirping birds silenced.

Your home is silent. The soft ticking of the clock is the only thing to break it and Daabi removes his boots, putting them against the door where dirt has fallen and stains your floorboards. It’s a mess he can clean up- something that he will promise you but end up forgetting and leaving, leaving you to clean up after him.

He steps quietly through the hallway and ends in front of your closed door. It creaks as he opens it, but you don’t stir from your rest. He slips through the small crack that he made and perches himself on the edge of your bed. He smells of soot and mahogany, his hands coated with a thin layer of dust and dirt resides under his nails. Your hair is disheveled and his hand hovers over to brush it away, to soothe the stray strands but he catches himself. His skin burns and he smells of burnt flesh. He’s dirty and rough. He pulls away and lifts himself from the bed, a frown etched upon his strong features and he walks over to the dresser where you have prepared a space for him. His clothes life there- some that he brought, some that you bought for him- things that were new and had tags, receipts thrown away before he can have a chance to witness how much you had spent on him, things that smelled like your laundry detergent.

The bathroom is cold, the floor underneath his feet chilling him, and he stands in front of your mirror, a hand coming to brush against his scars, following the trail of staples lifting away at the final piece- he stands and studies himself.

There’s an ache in his chest- dull and throbbing like an approaching headache, one that will last hours no matter the amount of medicine taken, no matter the amount of sleep or food eaten. He tears his gaze away and the shower handle is dirty with dried water stains, and he turns the knob, a spray of water splashing against the tile and spilling down the drain. Steam rises and he steps inside, his clothes in a neat pile with a soft towel placed above.

Hot water hits his skin. It stings and soothes the aches away in his bones. It leaves his skin in a pale red, the purple scarring burns and he grits his teeth, reaching over to grab at a shampoo bottle- honey, milk and vanilla. The water turns cold, fresh and light in the air and sweet in his lungs. The scent invades him quickly, it fills the bathroom and it pools in a soft golden on his palms. He lathers and suds falls ond pool around his feet, the white suds stained with faint pink and light gray. He scrubs at his body, scented with citrus and and champagne- it’s sweet and soft against his skin, warm and welcoming on him.

The water runs cold against him, soft and refreshing, bitter and sharp and he lets his eyes close, the water encasing him and joints aching in and legs aching in protest the longer he stands. His body is soft, scars tender and sweet smelling.

The water stops, dripping off the faucet and his hand loosens around the handle and goes limp at his side. Water drips from him and his hand reaches past the curtain to grab at the towel. It’s soft and he pats his skin softly until dry. The towel ruffles his hair, dripping down his neck and onto his chest and back. He steps out and looks under the sink cabinet, grateful that you have body cream under- white citrus and he gives a crooked smile at the theme of citrus going around.

Dabi is dressed and cleaned, dirt and dried blood gone from him and the citrus scent mixes in with his natural mahogany scent. He walks to your bedroom, soft, yellow rays peeking through the blinds and suddenly his eyes are heavy, body growing heavy and limp as he falls above the covers, laying next to you.

You turn on your side and your eyes flutter open, a soft smile on your features, your hand raising up and resting against his face, brushing along the scars. You sigh softly, and your hand falls and rests between the space of you and him. “I thought I heard the shower running,” you mumble.

“Didn’t mean to wake you up,” he says quickly, licking his lips. He turns his head towards you and lifts himself from the bed, running a hand through his hair. He raises a brow when you frown. “What is it?”

“I saw the news.” You tug on his forearm and he lays back down, drops of water cling to the ends of his hair and wet the pillow. “Are you okay?”

Turquoise eyes flicker to your hand and he closes his eyes. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just tired is all.” He feels his heart stutter, a soft stop and choking feeling in his throat when you press your hand against his face and slide it further up, knitting through his hair and scratching at his scalp. “Mind if I spend the day here?”

“Your friends won’t miss you?” His brows furrow when your hand lowers and thumb brushes against his lower lip.

Friends is an odd word. It’s heavy and thick on his tongue, it’s overly sweet and bitter and sour. He doesn’t know if he can consider them friends. If they consider him a friend. He doesn’t want to linger on the thoughts for long- doesn’t know if he can handle the thought that no one cares for him, that he is utterly alone in the world.

“Dabi?” Your hand slides away from him and curves around his neck. “You awake dear?”

Dabi rests his head on your chest, his weight heavy and suffocating and his hands creep up to your biceps, fingers curling around, his soft skin leaving phantom touches above you, soft and fleeting that makes your skin burn with his touch; his scarred skin scratches against you, while rough, it presses the most against you, the skin warm beyond compare, and you feel the softness that lies hidden in patches. He lays above you, silent and the smell of citrus wafting in the air, his hair wets at your chest and your shirt clings to your skin but you keep him above you, your chin resting on the top of his head. Your hands reach above and cradle his head, palms curving and fingertips scratching at him, running through his hair and tugging at the soft knots that come loose in an instant.

His lips brush over your collarbone, the metal that decorates his skin is warm against you, the edges of it pressing into your skin and creating soft indents as he buries himself against you. He lifts himself and for a brief moment, your eyes meet his, a glance that lasts for a moment and far too long, eyes that hold secrets within them, eyes that soften only to turn away and rest his back on the bed, chest exposed and a tightness in his throat.

“Are you hungry?” He nods. “I’ll go make us something to eat, okay?” He feels your lips against his temple and your hand is gently against his chest, fingertips feather light above his scarring. “And then we can relax for the rest of the day.” The bed creaks as you leave the bed and he feels cold.

He lays still, palms over the blanket and he sighs. Faint clinking sounds in the kitchen and despite the exhaustion, he misses you. He lifts himself up from the bed, running a hand over his face and he walks to the kitchen. Your life flashes against him, pictures of loved ones, chipped paint that peels at the edge, and paintings that brim with color and hang in frames. He stands by the doorway, leaning with arms crossed as he watches you move along the kitchen, giving him a soft smile and wave with a skillet in hand.

He wonders if he’s allowed to love you, to hold you so close and let himself feel again. He sits on a dining chair, worn and soft under him from years of wear, years of where you allowed people to come into your home and share a cup of coffee, eat leftovers from the night before- you gave your love to others, whole and warm, sweet and soft.

He hates the ugly feeling that grows in his chest, that makes his stomach ache and mouth turn into a sneer. He didn’t know you in the past, probably wouldn't have given you the time of day if circumstances hadn’t been just right; he doesn’t have a right to jealousy, doesn’t have the right to sit in your home and watch as you flutter around in the kitchen with the sweet scent of vanilla in the air.

The coffee pot beeps, and his attention turns towards it, his hands cease the tapping, and his arm reaches forward, lips parted and your voice rings out. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it.” You give him a soft smile that turns cheeky. “I know how tired you get when you finish a mission.”

He snorts and rolls his eyes. “How considerate of you.” He’s met with silence and he watches as you pull out his mug- round and matte black, the inside a light shade of blue. It’s his mug- a mug you bought for him, placed in a pink paper bag with tissue paper poking above as you eagerly watched for his reaction. He watches as you pour him a cup, the first cup of coffee that you save for him and hold it carefully, hand hooked around the ear and the other curved loosely, careful with the burning warmth. The mug is placed in front of him, black coffee that ripples softly, steam rising above and you kiss the side of his mouth, lips meeting his soft and scarred skin. Your hand rests on his shoulder and it slides away, leaving him cold. “Can you-”

“Four creams and three sugars, I know,” your voice is playful and you turn to give him a smile, one that flashes by and shines onto him.

Sometimes it’s too much to be around you. To watch you be the loving partner and make him his coffee- a domestic piece of life that he was robbed of, something soft and warm that was taken away, that he ran from and forced himself to grow cold over. And yet you stand in front of him, stirring the sugar in, humming a soft tune that he can’t put the name on and it makes his throat too tight. He doesn’t want to leave this room, can’t force himself to pretend that he doesn’t want this. He wants it all, he wants to sleep in your bed and share your blanket, wants you to run your hands and lips over his scars and confess your love to him. He wants to do the same to you, wants to lie in bed and pretend for just a day that the outside world doesn’t exist, that he’s safe in your arms and your safe in his.

You bought him his own mug. You serve him first, give him the slice with the most frosting and let him shower first, use your strawberry scented body wash and massage cream on him and onto the spots that he cannot reach, your love with him is soft and tender, refreshing and leaving him aching for more. He leans to your touch and holds you with rapacious hands. He wants you and only you, he can’t stand the thought that you had someone before him, that you smiled and loved others.

You set his breakfast on a plate, pancakes stacked neatly with fresh fruit cut and prepped and you gasp when his arms snake around you and his chin rests on your shoulder. You’re delicate under him, soft and fragile and he pulls you closer to him.

Your head nudges against him and he can see the grin that grows. “You’re being awfully soft. Did I do something to warrant this?” Your hand lets go of the skillet handle and you turn around slowly in his arms, hands coming up to cusp his face and he swallows tightly, apple bobbing and stuttering. He stares at you his hands reach around to turn off the stove, and you press your cheek against his chest, hands sliding and wrapping around his chest, holding him tight against you. “Your breakfast is going to get cold.” Your hands clench his shirt, and you press yourself closer against him.

“Let it,” he mutters, inching backward, hands flat against your back, pulling you away from the stove, “I can reheat them later.” He feels you nod against him, leaning towards him, your weight leaning against him. “You woke up too early.”

“You need energy.” You press a kiss against his chest and he lets his eyes flutter close. “I haven’t seen you in a while, I want to make the most of it.”

He frowns at your words and his brow twitches. “Yeah, I guess so,” he mutters, letting his hands wander and hold you by the waist. He peers over your shoulders and the skillet is empty, bits of batter cooked and left over but not enough for you to make a full one for yourself. “You aren’t eating?” He pulls away and interlaces his hand with yours, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips when you frown at the loss of contact. “Come on, let’s share.” You leave his grasp and sit down in the chair next to his.

Dabi wants your love. He wants the attention and the life that comes with it. You wash away his pain, you hold him and cradle him as if he were delicate, fragile as porcelain, you treat him as if he were gentle, not as a murderer. There’s no raised voices, no shouts, no fear of your being taken away and no anger that leaves him fuming. He stays next to you and does not care if he is unworthy- unworthy of love, of gentleness, of forgiveness. He’ll hold you close, nuzzle and lean into your touch, watch you sleep and let his fingertips ghost over you skin, shudder when you do the same, when you lips press against his scarring and untouched skin with the same amount of love, no disgust, no recoil, pure and unfiltered love that makes blood replace his tears. He wants to cry and press his face against your stomach, repent and sob, clutch at you like a child crying to their mother, a child terrified of the world and the coldness from it. But instead, he sits next to you, blood that peeks and makes a light trail, lips that curve as you dot and fret over him, a quick kiss that turns intimate, hands clutching at your side as he kisses you with passion, lips brushing over you soft skin, open mouthed kisses that leaves you mewling and if he can’t say the words, he’ll press his lips against your skin and sear his love onto you.

[reddrobins]

of coffee cups + criminals - four [j.todd]

TW: blood, language, gore(?)

ONE - TWO - THREE

How long they had been driving was beyond [Y/N]. After an awfully hostile awakening, courtesy of Black Mask, the trade off had been initiated. One of the Mask’s men had gone behind her, tying a blindfold tight on her - already sore - eyes. From there, what happened was a mystery to her. 

There was a bunch of movement, yet never her leaving the chair. They had carried her restrained form onto - what she could only assume to be - a truck. Placing her down, not gently at all, a loud bang sounded and darkness enclosed the smaller space.

This, [Y/N] felt, was worse than anything she had persisted through thus far. 

Being punched? Not optimal, but fine.

Restrained? Okay.

Left alone in an unknown dark and dank container - not her favourite choice.

It was more so the fact that she was now aware of who would be accompanying her in said truck that instilled the terror in [Y/N]. He had been uncharacteristically silent since his appearance. Not a single laugh or chuckle or anything. That was what scared her most. It was like entering the uncanny valley, a land with silent Jokers, quiet clowns, everything the prince of Gotham was not.

Feeling her anxieties start to get the better of her, [Y/N] steadied her breathing - centering herself. If there was anything she had learned from her time with Jason, it was to remain calm in Gotham. Take everything as it's thrown at you, don't let your consciousness morph it into fear. Stay Calm.

Though her brain was yelling at her to scream, shout, do anything to alert help, [Y/N] knew that it would most definitely gain the attention of those only wanting to hurt. Crossing that off of her mental escape checklist, she tried to upperhand the blindfold. Wiggling her ears, she felt the cloth give a bit. Seemingly not as tight as it had felt, [Y/N] began to furiously shake her head, doing her best to loosen it completely.

As if a higher power answered her prayer, the right side of the blindfold slipped down, allowing her to peak out that eye. Scrunching her nose, she then maneuvered the left side to fall as well, both eyes now at her disposal. Though, evidently, removing the blindfold was not much help as the area around her was still as dark as can be. 

Turning her neck as far as possible, she scanned her surroundings - trying to grasp onto any detail that could aid her in her escape. In the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of silver. Using all of her might to shuffle the chair she sat in, [Y/N] got closer to the object. 

It was attached to the wall, a small metal lever - one that normally was used to open a moving truck. So she had been right, though the confirmation of her thoughts did little to help her out of her situation. 

If she could just grasp the bar, she may be able to open the trailer - grantering her freedom.

Once more scooting her chair towards the lever, she leaned forward, lifting her tied arms upward. One of her fingers made contact with the cool metal, not close enough to grab it yet. She bumped back once more, successfully getting a hold of the bar.

Then it seemed that all hell broke loose. A series of loud bangs and rattles echoed throughout the metal box. The floor shook, little scraps jingling about. The chair [Y/N] sat in bounced as well, moving along the rattling ground. The bar slipped out of her hold the further the chair gilded. That was until she was suddenly rammed back into the wall, the truck all but rolling onto its side.

She now layed sideways, the wall now acting as the floor. A warm substance had gathered on the side of her arm, when she was thrown against the lever, it had cut her forearm. That's not all it had cut though.

[Y/N] felt a newfound freedom in her joints, the lever had sliced through the rope holding her hands hostage. So she may have been bleeding, but now she could escape.

Cheek pressed against the cold floor, she wiggled her arms up and down, gliding the rope off of her wrists. Successfully untangling herself, [Y/N] pushed herself back into a sitting position, beginning to untie her legs.

A slam sounded from the front of the carrier, freezing [Y/N] in her place. Whomever had been driving now was out of the truck - there was no way of telling how much time she had left alone… that is, if she was in the first place.

Blocking the horrid thought from her mind, [Y/N] went back to untying the bonds, freeing her legs from the chair. She placed her hand down onto the floor to steady herself, but quicking retracted it, her fingertips now lightly coated in blood.

Covering her cut with the opposite arm, [Y/N] felt around for the latch. Finally, she felt the circular shape of the metal and pulled up as hard as she could manage with one arm. 

It wouldn't budge.

Though [Y/N] never considered herself as weak, she knew that this was a two handed job. Pushing through the sting of the injury - she used both arms to move the lever - this time it reacted.

Light seeped in slowly as the door opened, each stream of sun bringing a sense of safety into the small compartment. The gleam was harsh compared to the darkness [Y/N] had grown used to, forcing her to lift her hand over her eyes, blocking the direct rays. 

The exit slid to completion, the click alerting [Y/N] it was done - that she was free now.

Uncovering her eyes, she slowly blinked, trying to adjust to the daylight. Vision blurry, she squeezed her eyes shut then squinted them, in an attempt to make out her surroundings.

Once her vision settled, a low hiss of “oh fuck.” came out of her mouth.

Standing in front of the open truck, a sick smile plastered onto his face, Joker waved.

His laugh vibrated around the interior of the metal box, “Wow!” He started, “Quite a show you’ve put on my dear!” Joker clapped his hands, “I didn't take you for a modern Houdini, but brava!” His mock applause continued as [Y/N] stared in awe at the man before her.

She had only ever seen the Joker in full on the TV or her phone. Being before him without a screen of separation was the most terrifying experience [Y/N] had ever had. If she really were a magician, she would have loved to put on a disappearing act. 

“Well! Since you’ve so nicely done half the work for me,”  The clown now entered the truck, [Y/N] instinctively backing away. He outstretched his hand, “Come along now!” His voice was sing-songlike, horrid and shrill, “Time to get a move on.” Turning in on himself, he muttered, “As I don't think our chauffeur can drive on any longer…” The sentence was followed by his signature haunting laugh.

The Joker shook his hand, presenting an air of urgency. [Y/N], fear stapling her to the floor, hadn't moved a muscle - not that she would have accepted his hand otherwise.

Annoyed, the clown rolled his eyes, “Oh come on now. I haven't killed you yet, have I?” He phrased it as a joke, going into a set of hysterics afterward. Then just like that, his straight face was back - as if the episode hadn't happened. Thrusting his hand forward, he wrapped his icy fingers around her arm, pulling [Y/N] out of the truck.

The grip was not as rough as Sionis’ had been, but [Y/N] let out a wince - pain firing through her. Joker had grabbed her bleeding arm, white hands now wet with crimson. Letting out a laugh he lifted his hand up, inspecting the blood. A sadistic smile etched across his face, he spoke, “Looks like you’ve done more than half the work! Shame, no audience to see it.” He sighed, “Poor stagecraft on your part.”

Glancing back down at his hand, he shrugged - “Well, can't waste fresh product now, can we?”

She had yet to utter a single word. At this point she was surprised she was still alive. A finger against her face brought [Y/N] out of her semi-shock. She looked down, the acid stained digit tracing a gory smile across her face.

As Joker wiped his hands together, spreading the residue onto the other - [Y/N] shakily reached up to touch her face. Her unsteady hand made contact with her cheek, feeling her own blood painted on her skin. 

Until this point, [Y/N] had felt as though she had been handling the situation pretty well. But now as she stood in the middle of a concrete lot, in who knows where, with none other than the Joker as company, [Y/N] felt like the world was caving in. 

Pulling her hand off of her cheek, a sob escaped out of her - the blood on her fingers a final confirmation that this was not a dream. That she wouldn't wake up next to Jason, that she wasn't in some alternate reality - no, it confirmed her fears. She was awake, she was alive and most terrifyingly she was conscious. This wasn't some wack fantasy her brain had made, rather it was life, her life specifically - and she had no control over it.

“Oh no! Oh no no no.” Joker tsked, furiously shaking his head, “We can't have you crying now! I haven't even had the curtain call!” He rushed towards her, hands outward - immediately going to rub at her eyes. A mix of salt and iron smeared over her face, the blood and tears seeping into her pores. His attempt to stop her from crying failed, the physical touch only pulling more sobs out. 

The Joker, in an outburst of annoyance, gripped at his viridescent hair, “I was going to wait until he arrived, but if you insist.”  Once more grasping her arm, he dragged her towards a decrepit building. He dragged her past the front of the truck, which now she could see had clearly flipped over. The front of the vehicle was the worst, so much so - [Y/N] almost fainted. 

There was blood everywhere, spilling out of the window onto the pavement, splattered against the seat, anywhere there could be blood - there was. It was easy to deduce who it came from. The driver, or rather what was left of him, was clearly dead… and worse - dismembered. 

A sharp pull took her attention away, the Joker not waiting to spare his last victim a glance. Offhandedly he spoke, “Least good old uncle Joker could do. Couldn't have a pure soul like him going back to work for Romie, just didn't feel right.”  

Trying still to ease her nerves - solely for the sake of her sanity - [Y/N] centered her attention to their new surroundings. He had led her into the building, the disrepair showing the buildings age. After the Falcone family had dispersed Carmines extra funds, the GCPD had gentrified a bit of Gotham in an attempt to get them on the map again. The majority of central Gotham now was pretty decent, so [Y/N] knew that she had been dragged to the edges of the city. Maybe even the Bowery… 

Their steps echoed throughout the room, broken linoleum tiles reverberating with each click of the Joker's shoes. Light peaked into the halls through boarded up windows, the wood rotted and creaking with each blow of wind. In short, the building was straight out of a nightmare. It was exactly like how [Y/N] had imagined all of Gotham to be, prior to moving there. The only thing truly out of place in the dated building was in the back. 

A large makeshift stage had been poorly put together, different materials and nails clashing against one another. A homemade stage curtain accompanied it, also sewed together with multiple fabrics - some plaid, some polka dotted and eerily enough, most stained with a rusty colored substance. 

[Y/N] knew he was a maniac, but had failed to truly grasp the sanity - or lack thereof -  of the clown before her. This was nothing more than a show to him. What she presumed to be her death, was nothing but stagecraft. The last act of a Shakespearean tragedy, though it seems that there would be no knight in shining armour for this damsel in distress.

On centre stage, there sat a single seat. The set dressings bland, but speaking volumes to the audience in the room. The Joker already knew how this act would end, [Y/N] however, was left guessing, theorizing her role in the show. Would she take the crown and come out a stronger person? Or would her character simply be a pawn in the long game of life, a death with little influence.

In the midst of her melancholic monologue, the Joker had ushered her up onto the platform - his grin growing larger and larger every step she took. She was in a trance-like state, her subconscious tuning out as a protective measure for what was about to ensue. Shoving her shoulders, [Y/N] was forced onto the chair - now able to see the ‘theatre’ in full. There were rows of crates and boxes, all placed together to mimic a real auditorium. It was almost as if The Joker expected this performance to get a full house.

The clown then went off stage right, leaving [Y/N] on her own. He hadn't tied her down, but he knew she wasn't going anywhere and deep down, [Y/N] knew he was right. She was far too scared, too shocked to even think about running. Not to mention the gash on her arm, nor the amount of blood lost so far.

A squeak of wheels alerted her that the rogue was back, and this time not empty handed. The stage now hosted a horrifying bright purple cart, the wheels rusted but vibrant nonetheless. The colour was not the scary part however. On each shelf of the metal rack were several different objects, ranging from a ‘can of worms’ to a meat cleaver. 

As [Y/N] eyed the cart, the Joker walked down stage, arms outstretched in a greeting. “Good evening all!” He yelled into the empty theatre. “Boy, do I have a show for you tonight! Meet our special guest Miss. LN herself!” Doing a stage turn, he gestured to her, “And look folks, she even got all dolled up for us! Isn't that just darling?” A laughing fit followed after, the shrill sound bouncing around the vacant room. 

Crazy as the situation was, [Y/N] couldn't help but wonder, ‘why’, still. Why her? What did this all stem from, her not knowing enough about The Red Hood? Better yet, why was Joker involved? Why was he making this a spectacle for absolutely no one? Though to question the ways of a madman seemed a little mad in itself.

The laughing ceased, the Joker heading back towards the cart. “Now, I figured since Miss. LN has been such a lovely guest, coming out here to grace us with her presence - we should give her thanks.” He then turned to [Y/N], a wicked smile stretched across his white face, “And what better way to say ‘Thank You’, than a little game?” 

“Lights!” The Joker yelled, a series of clicks and flickers following. A myriad of colorful lights filled the room, some stage lights, some bedside lamps and others random bulbs all connected into an awful collage.

‘WHEEL OF DEMISE’ was spelled out with lights, the sign hanging precariously on the back wall.

“That's right all!” The Joker announced as he made his way backstage again, “I’m rehashing my ‘Wheel of Demise’ - just for good old [Y/N] over here.”

He came back onstage, a gigantic purple and green spinning wheel rolling on the floor behind him.

“If you’re not familiar with this treat, Miss. LN will spin the wheel and let it decide her gift!” Joker faced the wheel towards her, egging her on to spin it. [Y/N] remained frozen.

Sighing, he spoke to the ghosts in the house, “It seems as though our talent has gotten stage fright. Not to worry, Mr. J is happy to spin it himself!” 

A sickeningly white hand theatrically grasped the dial, giving the wheel a whirl. [Y/N] held her breath as she watched the choices tick by. 

PINWHEEL PERRIL.

SILLY STRING SNUFFING.

BALLOON BEATDOWN.

ASPHYXIATION.

FACE PAINT FATALITY.

The spinning stopped. The arrow, pointed at a bright green box, the purple letters read: TICKLE TERMINATION.

She released her breath, though at the hands of the Joker, surly tickling wasn't that bad.

The clown prince frowned, this was not what he wanted. Deciding his audience would get bored by such a bland show, he prefaced, “Well seeing as [Y/N] is the guest, it wouldn't be fair for me to choose. Think of that as a ‘test run’ if you will.” Facing her, he smirked - voice threatening, “Give it a spin, it's not nice to keep the audience waiting.”

Accepting that she wasn't getting out of here alive anyway, [Y/N] leaned forward, reaching a shaky hand out and spun the wheel.

It went around and around and around, her getting dizzy at the clashing colors mixing in her vision. Finally, it slowed down and [Y/N] almost let out a cry of happiness, the wheel was going to stop on TICKLE TERMINATION again.

Joker had caught the small glimmer of hope in her eye, and being the saint he was, diminished it as soon as possible. He would hate for false possibilities to form in her mind. So with a slight motion of his hand, he grasped onto one of the wheels pegs, bridging the spinning to a shortstop.

Both of the stage presences looked at the wheel, though their reactions were poles apart. [Y/N]’s the face of tragedy whilst Joker’s the face of comedy.

‘BLADE BEREAVEMENT’ 

“Well, well, well! It seems as though [Y/N] has chosen wonderfully! I know this is always a favourite amongst the house!” He laughed, wheeling the cart towards him. “Now the only question is, which one will be the lucky tool tonight?”

His pasty hand glided over the assortment of sharp metals, a facade of thought on his face. “Shall it be this one?” He lifted a small surgical blade, the hardware glimmering against the harsh lights. The Joker's expression showed the audience's distaste of the item, he placed it back. “How about… This one!” A larger kitchen knife was in his grip, the edges serrated and sharp.

As he continued to mime a conversation, [Y/N] was trying to stay awake. Whether it was from the blood loss or just the constant reminder of death on her shoulder - her body wanted nothing more than to shut down. She continued to remind herself why she needed to be awake. [Y/N] thought of escaping, of getting out alive, of seeing the coffee shop again, of seeing Jason again… Jason. 

God, throughout all of this craziness she never thought about how he must be feeling. He's probably at the GCPD right now, reporting her disappearance. Fuck. She was going to die and Jason would never really know why, he would just see the reports of another one of Joker's sorry victims.

A loud crash broke [Y/N] from her thoughts. Initially, she thought it was the cart, maybe Joker had knocked it over. But upon looking up, she realised that he had heard it too. The clown narrowed his eyes, looking around the spacious room for a sign of the intruder.

“It’s over fuck-face.” the voice had sounded from above them, “Let her go and maybe I won't kill you slowly.” 

As her confusion grew, the malicious smile she had gotten used to formed itself on Joker's face once more. “Oh ho ho ho! Lookie here audience, it seems like our final guest of honor has arrived!” He clapped his hands together, eyes still glued above them in search of the person.

A stray can rolled onto the stage, smoke pooling out of it, stinging [Y/N]’s eyes. She coughed and covered her face, then a lightbulb went off. The smoke. Joker can't see!

[Y/N] stood from the chair, ducking low to the ground trying to feel her way around the stage. 

“We can't have the talent leave! I hadn't called you off stage yet!” His cry took [Y/N] by surprise, as did the grip that came with it. A white claw was now locked around her throat, partnering to the cold barrel that was pressed against her temple.

“Ever the dramatist you are Hoodie! Just like your father… And I’m not talking about Batsy!” Another clang sounded from the audience, the mystery guest had decided to show themself. 

The first thing [Y/N] saw was the glimmer of crimson. Even through the smoke she could make out its blood-red color, the cool metal of the helmet reflecting the lights. 

“Ah, finally.” The Joker spoke, “You’re just in time for the show. Why don't you take a seat, Jason Todd?”

[mlmxreader]

Cowboy Films | Dan Torrance

request; "fluffy dan fic where you are sitting between his legs and watching a film pls 🥺 " // anon

summary; whilst house-sitting for Dr. John Dalton, you and Dan have a film night.

notes; gender neutral reader

Rain was battering heavily, bouncing off of the concrete like footballs kicked against a fence, and by the time you and Dan got to John's door, you were practically soaked to the bones and teeth; John and his wife were taking a well deserved and needed holiday, and John trusted no one but Dan to ensure that his house would be kept safe and sound and neat and tidy as always. John's wife even admitted that there were precooked meals in the freezer for you both, and that there were snacks in abundance, she never liked the thought of anyone going hungry; the chitchat was short and sweet, brisk as they told you where the bathroom and the bedroom was, before they rushed outside with an umbrella to meet their taxi. When the door slammed behind them, caught by a gust of wind, Dan threw his bag from his shoulder, allowing it to land on the hallway floor with a wet thud.

"Film night?" He sighed, wiping droplets of rain from his hair.

"Film night," you agreed, shaking your head like a wet dog. "But first, towels and change of clothes."

Dan agreed with no hesitation, following you up to the bathroom but not before picking up the bag again; he pulled out a pair of his old and comfortable grey jogging bottoms, tossing them on the bed as you threw a towel at him from the bathroom. He quickly dried off and slipped off his wet clothes, replacing them with the jogging bottoms and pulling out one of the blue shirts he often slept in.

You came into the room shortly after that, your hair still a little damp, but you quickly dug through the bag for your own pyjamas, slipping them on after removing your wet clothes; once you and Dan were finally dry and in something more comfortable, you headed back into the living room, where you sat between his legs as he pulled you flush against him, your back against his chest, your head against his shoulder as he handed you the remote.

"I picked last time," Dan said. "So, it's your turn."

You flicked through what films the Daltons had, grinning a little when you saw that they had 'The Good, The Bad and The Ugly', you looked up at Dan with pleading eyes. "Cowboy film? Please?"

He shrugged, a smile on his lips as he hummed softly. "Go for it."

You started the film, leaning forward to put the remote on the coffee table before grabbing the blanket beside him and tugging it over yourselves; you grew comfortable in Dan's embrace as you hummed along to the theme tune, the iconic staple of spaghetti western films. It made Dan smile as he relaxed.

You shifted a little, crossing your legs beneath you, your knees resting at the sides of his thighs as you took his wrists in your hands and wrapped his arms around your waist, wiggling a little to get that extra bit of comfort; Dan didn't mind, he would have sawed off his own leg if it made you comfortable. But all of your wriggling and shifting about made him chuckle softly as a hum escaped from the back of his throat.

"Comfy?"

"I am now," you mused as you finally stopped. "Y'know, Dan, you'd look pretty hot as a cowboy."

"Oh, really?" Dan couldn't help but to roll his eyes fondly.

"Yeah," you nodded. "The slicked back hair, the stubble with a bit of grey, the hat and the bandana... and you know what they say."

"What do they say?"

"Save a horse," you grinned as you looked up at him. "Ride a cowboy."

A bark of laughter left his mouth at that, the sound sending a rippling vibration through his chest that you managed to feel; Dan shook his head. "Maybe for Halloween. If we're not taking Abra trick or treating... she wants to go as Spiderman this year."

"You'd make a pretty good Iron Man," you commented. "Although, you can't wear the helmet."

"Why not?" He looked confused for a moment, that kind of amused confusion that he hardly ever felt.

"It would hide your face," you pouted. "Anyways, Halloween is a long way away... and we've got the entire week to ourselves, so maybe we could watch two cowboy films?"

Dan wanted to say no, they weren't his type of film in the slightest, but they made you happy and you loved pointing out the little intricacies of each film, you loved those stupid old spaghetti western films, and Dan tolerated them for that; so he shrugged and smiled and said, "two cowboy films. Do they have Hang 'Em High?"

Dan remembered you talking about that one and how it reminded you of your younger years, how it brought back the pleasant memories but not the unpleasant ones. He remembered you talking about it and how your eyes lit up as you talked so fast he thought you would best the world record for most sentences spoke in a second.

"I think I saw it on there, yeah," there was that grin, the one that made your eyes light up as you twisted and leaned up to press the softest of kisses to his cheek. "I love you, Dan, you know that, right?"

"I know," Dan waited for you to snuggle back down before he dared to kiss the top of your head. "Who knows? If neither of us are tired, we could always watch three cowboy films."

tags; @aesthetically-bii @bellobi @ewansblve @frosted-starlight @king-trash-goblin @ronaldrx @rentskenobi @spnfanboy777 @snips-n-skyguy0501 @thenlookatyourphones

[staranon95]

bait and switch

a red hood au drabble

Jeremy doesn’t often do stealth jobs. He likes to be loud and brash in his presence. That’s usually part of his job when their running a heist. Be loud. Be shiny. Be noticeable so the others who work stealth, who can sneak by and go unnoticed can be exactly that.

Jeremy is used to keeping the attention on him, but tonight things are working out a bit differently.

The muscle has been activated. Jeremy and Michael have been scouting out Red for a few weeks now. Trevor wants him brought in so they can question him. Figure out who he is, what he knows about the city, and why he’s so obsessed with the Fakes. The tip Red gave Fiona a few weeks ago turned out to be true, and they had time to leave the penthouse behind before it was raided by the LSPD. They’re working out of one of the safehouses while Lindsay removes their presence from the penthouse.

Jeremy feels a bit weird about that fact. The penthouse has been a staple for years and now they have to give it all up. Become something new again if they intend on staying relevant.

They’ve been keeping a low profile for a while now, picking up on every potential sighting of Red and piecing together to pinpoint a location where he might be staying. Matt has set up a security system to track people based on their gait, so they’ve been pouring over thousands of hours of security footage across the city to locate the spots Red likes to frequent. They find a few, which is better than nothing.

Jeremy and Michael have done runs like this before. They have a pretty good system. Jeremy is the one that heads in first, flashy colours, meaning to take on the attention while Michael gets in behind them and clocks them on the head a solid one. It’s a tried and true method, but Trevor has warned them that Red knows things about the Fakes. If he knows how to get in, if he knows their code names, then he might know how they operate.

So it’s bait-n-switch.

“When we get in,” Michael says, “you step out first, then he’ll look for me. That’s when—”

“Yeah, yeah, I tase him. We’ve run this one before.”

“We can’t let him get away.”

“We won’t. We got this. Not like we’ve dealt with worse.”

Which is true. Jeremy was just being hopeful that they could get away with living a relatively normal life for criminals.

They come to the building they know Red is living out of. A month by month lease situation. It’d be easy for him to get in and out if he needed to.

They stake the place out a bit, wait until they find a familiar figure that matches their target. Jeremy is getting his gloves on just as he sees Red duck into the building, hood pulled up over his head.

“Cock it and pull it,” Jeremy says.

“Dude, you need to stop it with the Fall Out Boy references.” Michael gets out of the car first as Jeremy laughs. He’ll get himself into position on Red’s floor before Red comes home. Once he’s here, Jeremy will follow him in and they’ll spring their trap.

He waits a solid ten seconds before following Red inside the building. He keeps his feet light as he treads up the stairs. He’s betting on the fact that Red knows he’s following him.

They get to the third floor. Red is pulling his keys out as Jeremy positions himself in the middle of the hallway, hopefully cutting off his retreat.

“You’re not an easy man to find,” Jeremy says, hopefully catching Red’s attention away from where Michael is skulking around at the opposite end so he can make his approach.

Red stops, keys hanging in the lock of his door. He’s even still wearing the mask Fiona had said he was wearing that day they met. This guy really doesn’t want to be known. “Seems like you had no issue with that. Oh! And would you look at that.” Red turns to face Jeremy directly, arms crossed, resting his weight on one leg like he has nothing to worry about. “Rimmy Tim as a I live and breathe. Same old colour scheme, huh? But if you’re here, I’m going to assume that—” He whirls around just before Michael can hit him. He catches him by the wrist, and that’s when Jeremy rushes forward with his taser in hand shoves it against Red’s back. He makes a wounded sound and goes stiff. Once they know he’s incapacitated, they move for the elevator.

They lie Red out in the back seat with his wrists tightly ziptied behind his back. Michael gets into the driver’s seat and Jeremy buckles up as he pulls out his phone to confirm they’re bringing in Red.

“Tempting, isn’t it?” Michael says, looking at Red through the rear-view mirror. “To take the mask off?”

Jeremy looks over his shoulder. “Yeah. But I doubt it’ll be all that exciting. I doubt we know the guy.”

“Still, it’s like whenever Batman has his mask taken off. You spend all that time wondering who it is, and it’s some jumped-up billionaire with a guilt complex as wide as the Grand Canyon.”

“I doubt this guy is a jumped-up billionaire. Did you see the building he lived in? I counted three rats on our way out.”

Red groans behind them. He mutters something that neither of them can decipher.

“Take it easy, pal,” Jeremy says. “Those tasers pack a punch.”

“Don’t be trying anything stupid either,” Michael says.

“Well, this fucks up my night,” Red says. He repositions himself, gets himself to sit up right. “Fucking hate tasers. Leave me feeling sore in all the wrong places.”

“If you’re feeling lucky, there’s a lot more where that came from,” Jeremy warns.

“Nah, I’ll take my chances.”

And then he’s moving. Quicker than either can anticipate. He’s gotten out of his zipties, reaching for the nearest door lock and then tumbling out of the moving car as they drive down the highway.

Michael slams on the breaks, causing the car to swerve a bit before it comes to a stop. Jeremy is out and running as quick as he can. It’s dark, at that inky blackness just after the sun has fully set. All he has on him is the shitty flashlight on his phone. But Red is gone. Off into the weeds.

“God dammit.”

Michael comes to a stop beside him. “I don’t know a lot of people who would jump out of a moving car on a highway. That shit hurts and there’s no telling if someone might run you over first.”

“Dude, we are so in over our heads.”

[witharsenicsauce]

Chosen Stories From the War #31: Arguments of Yesteryear

Betos sometimes missed the ocean, but she supposed the green rivers and red hills were beautiful. As long as there was water here, clean water for her people to drink, she would be alright.

Some of the children were already awake this early morning, splashing around in the clear running water. She kept one eye on them always. The rapids could get so fast and so deep, and before they even knew it they’d be swept away.

She never stripped down fully, but even allowing herself to be out here in her bra and undergarments was a mix of hair-raising and relieving. She hated her bulky armor, but her body felt empty without it.

She put one tentative toe into the bubbling water and sighed, relief mixing over her. Her forehead was already dotted with magenta tinted sweat: the day was looking to be a hot one, and the water washed that all away. She strode the rest of the way, nearly slipping on the river rocks as the water suddenly dropped off into a deep pit. She treated against the current, reaching out and holding onto a branch so she could float along the water without fear of being swept downstream.

“I should bring Kon-Mai here.” As soon as that thought crossed her mind, Betos stopped that train where it started. The Assassin had been a staple of her thoughts since her escape so long ago, but since bringing her here...she had often found herself thinking of the blue woman, and not out of fear.

“Arura!” 

She heard the children calling for her, and rose from the water to look over to them. She called out to them in Etheric first, then in English. “What is in your hands?”

“Plhaw!” They called out, and one of them ran over, holding something up. “Ezti plhaw!”

“Enshag!” She called out his name. “Be careful!” She swam over as the little hybrid stumbled on the slippery rocks and nearly fell. Betos caught the boy, trending water with one arm while holding him. “Now, what is it that you found?”

Enshag opened his hand. “It’s a plhaw.”

“I see.” She smiled down at the little green frog sitting in his hand. “What’s the human word for it?”

“...Frø?” He said tentatively.

She giggled. “That is but one name for it.” She said, taking the little frog in her own hand. “Like there are many names for us.”

“Mordenna.” Someone called from the bank, and she looked up. Nitocris stood there, her rare, soft white locks pulled back into a bun that sat low on her neck. Her eyes spoke that she was needed, and that it could not wait.

Betos lifted Enshag back up onto the bank. “Return to your friends.” She insisted.

“Can’t you stay longer?” She saw his eyes well up with tears. “Please Arura?”

She looked up at Nitocris, as if asking her permission to stay. The Other Skirmisher but her lip and motioned for her to follow.

“I’m sorry, dhay.” Betos said. “I have to go now. There are many who need me.”

.

.

“So?”

Gur-Rai opened one eye. “So…?”

“Do you like it?” Nazira asked as she parted her black hair over her shoulders, running her fingers through it to remove the tangles. He could hardly see her in the dim light, but the way the shadows framed her face made her look like a painting.

The pile of rugs and pillows he laid on protected him from the cold stone floor, and Gur-Rai was reluctant to sit up. He was so comfortable. “Your hair? It’s lovely~”

“Not just the hair.” She sounded almost indigent. “Surely you noticed the changes? Or did taking out that chip take half your brain with it?”

“If it did, would you still love me?” He lashed his arm out and wrapped it around her waist, pulling her close to him.

“I’ll love you if you answer my question.” She looked serious now, and...nervous? He rarely saw her like that. “Do I still look like...me?”

In an attempt to reassure her, he laid a kiss on her bare shoulder, trailing up her neck and taking a moment to nibble her ear. “Are you happy when you look in the mirror?” He whispered. 

She didn’t take long to answer. “...I’d say so.” She said. “I feel more like me.”

“Then I love it.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him, rocking her back and forth. “You may look different now, but you’re still the woman I fell for years and years and yeeeeeeaaars-”

She smacked him lightly, and stood up. “You haven’t changed a bit, you know?”

“Well, that’s disappointing.” He put his hand behind his head as Nazira began lacing up the stray threads on her tunic, laying back leisurely on the pile of books they’d used to prop themselves up.

“Depends on how you look at it. Too much change can be a bad thing.” She winked. “Ask the climate.”

“Oh ha ha.” He grabbed his pants, shoving one leg into them and then the other. “You don’t suppose my siblings heard the raucous?”

“If they did, you’d be on the business end of your sister’s blade right now.” She said. “Remember Unification Day?”

“Which one?”

“2034.”

“The one where the Speaker tried alcohol for the first time?”

“No, that was the year before that.” She felt around, one shoe in hand, looking for the other one. “In ‘34 we decided to go pub crawling in Jinan? We tried Absinthe, I got blood poisoning and the owner tried to fistfight you. The Assassin had to send in her personal force to get us out of that one.”

“Oh yeah.” He chuckled, then shuddered. “That was an...experience. I never thought I’d say it but I’m glad Kon-Mai was there.”

Nazira froze, staring at him with a near blank, contemplative expression.

“What?” He shrugged, pulling on his undershirt. “If she hadn’t been there to break up the rigamarole, I might have been beaten to death. By a civvy, no less. And that’s just not an acceptable death for a Chosen.”

“I know.” She chuckled. “I just never thought I’d hear you say you were grateful for anything your sister did.”

He pondered this or a moment, then shrugged. “Sometimes change is a very good thing.”

“Yes, I know.” She giggled.

.

.

“I got it!” Malinalli insisted, shooing Verge out of the way.. She reached down and grabbed the heavy box, grunting as she lifted it.

“I am able to pick it up.” Verge insisted. “My wounds healed long ago, Molly. Please.”

“I know. But I know where Tygan likes the stimpacks.” She said, practically dragging the box down the hall. Verge followed her close behind. “He’s just very picky about...well, you know how Tygan is.”

“I don’t know him nearly enough.” Verge sighed as he watched Malinalli work. “There is much of XCOM I still have not seen.”

“I could give you a tour sometime.” She chuckled.

“When shall we join the others?” He asked. “I have not seen many resistance havens, and this one is said to house former ADVENT soldiers. People like me...”

“Well, when the Commander gives the all clear, I suppose.” She replied as she dropped the box, tearing it open. “You’ve really never been? I’ve seen Sectoids in havens before.”

“No. I mostly took care of...prisoners retrieved after the missions.” He got a bit quiet as he knelt beside the box.

Malinalli struggled for what to say next, not wanting to leave the conversation empty. “Um, well, because of them, now you’re here!”

He nodded. “But is my life worth a thousand of theirs?” He asked.

Malinalli let a small sigh slip through and busied herself with the stimpacks. “...Your life is important.” She finally added.

His silence spoke volumes. Luckily, it was broken by Vicky walking in, her Minnie mouse buns tied tight and prim. “I can do that!” She insisted. “The Commander gave us you the OK to leave the ship.”

“I got it.” Malinalli tried to stop her. “You don’t want to go?”

Vicky hesitated. “...I’ll be fine here…” She finally said. She sounded like she didn’t mean it.

“It is unhealthy for humans to avoid social contact.” Verge said. “I know this to be a fact.”

“Let us know if you change your mind.” Malinalli stood. “Come on, Verge.”

“Me?” He raised a brow.

“You always wanted to see a haven.” She grabbed his shoulder and pulled him to his feet. “Let’s go.”

.

.

Senuna leaned on the edge of the stone window and gazed out over the vibrant oasis, her blue eyes sparkling like the water in the lake. She brushed back some hair behind her ear as the wind picked up, her cape billowing in the calm breeze. It was surprisingly cool for being in the middle of the desert. A little chunk of heaven.

“You���re thinking.” Bradford said behind her.

“Well I’d hope so. Gotta use this noggin somehow.” She giggled as she turned to him. He handed her a bottle of water, and she popped the cap and took a long drink. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “I’ve been talking with Jane and Zhang.”

“Oh have you now.” She sighed. “Let me guess, we’re giving them too many resources.”

“Yep.” Bradford nodded. “I’m just not sure we can spare that many soldiers without getting something in return. I think we should at least look into making this a mutually beneficial relationship.”

She raised a brow.

“Most of these guys are former ADVENT.” He said. “Commander, I’m kinda shocked you didn’t think of this.”

“You’re suggesting we start training them.” She smiled.

“Exactly. They’re already halfway there. We just have to...acclimate them to working with humans.”

Senuna seemed to pause. “...Hm.”

“Hm good or hm bad?” Bradford cracked a smile.

“I like it.” She said, handing him back the water. “But-”

“There’s hardly ever a ‘but’ with you.” He said. “What’s different this time?”

“Nothing’s different, I’ve always had a flat ass~” She giggled.

“Commander.”

Senuna’s face grew cold and serious for a moment, and she gazed out the window again. “...You know I have trouble sometimes...relating to people.”

“But these guys are different?” Bradford asked.

“They’re human.” She said. “But they’re also so alien. They’re like the Skirmishers. They’re…”

“They’re like you.”

“They’re like me.” She smiled. “...Bradford, I feel bad for them.”

“If you think it’s a bad idea, just say so.” He leaned on the wall beside her. “You get the final say, Commander.”

“No, it’s a good idea. In fact, it’s necessary.” She straightened up. “I should call another meeting with Zafar then. Tell him our new terms~”

.

.

Kon-Mai ran her fingers over the buttons and dials on the control panel. Half of them were rusty, one of them didn’t turn at all, and that was the power button. It was almost laughable the state this thing was in, but still…

“It is fascinating?” He brother asked, standing behind her.

She shrugged. “Gur-Rai would like it more. I am no good with machines.”

“Then that is two of us.” He chuckled. “Although I do like to wonder at the mystery of these things. With the Elders, it all seemed so fluid. It never occurred to me the sheer force of will needed to make it work.”

Kon-Mai sat down in the dusty old chair. “It seems like more trouble than it’s worth.”

“I could say the same about your swords.” A voice said behind her. “But I don’t, because I’m nice~”

She spun around and saw Gur-Rai ascending the stairs, Nazira close behind him.

Dhar-Mon harrumphed and crossed his arms. “I hope you two enjoyed your little premarital escapade.”

“It’s not premarital if you never get married.” Nazira winked. “So hold the insults until I toss the bouquet.”

“What is this machine?” Kon-Mai asked, pointing to the contraption behind her.

“Oh, the old radio.” Nazira walked over and leaned on the desk, pushing a few buttons as she did. “Zafar found this place by locking onto it’s signal. We have no idea what it was originally for, but it’s been very useful.”

“It’s how they found the Avenger.” Gur-Rai piped up.

“To be fair, your ship is big and slow and noisy.” She giggled. “All you have to do to find it is look up.”

“I disagree.” Dhar-Mon insisted. “I could never find it.”

“Well.” Nazira smiled. “You obviously don’t have the best...sense of direction.”

He growled, baring his sharp teeth. “I was the greatest of the Chosen, before I renounced the Elders. If the ship was findable, I would have found it.”

“YOU were the greatest.” Gur-Rai laughed. “Yeah right.”

“You forget, Brother.” Kon-Mai scowled. “Who was it who brought in Pratal Mox as a prisoner? Who was it who saved the Speaker from an assault on his own home? Who was it who-”

“Who was it who lost Betos?” Gur-Rai added. “Twice, Sister. And once when she literally came to you.”

“Betos is a trained warrior, one of the best this planet has to offer...if I had been told of her capabilities, I would not have lost.”  Kon-Mai stood, bristling. “My point is, I was just as capable as you when we were under the Elder’s thumb.” Kon-Mai stood, bristling.

“I mean you no offense, Sister.” Dhar-Mon growled. “But if anyone would have fulfilled the Elders’ wishes and captured the commander, it would have been me. You two did not have your heart in the fight.”

“Excuse you.” Now Gur-Rai looked offended. “Hunting the Commander was in my very name! I would have found her long before you.”

“And yet, you didn’t.”

“They had a flying ship! If you ask me, that is an unfair advantage!”

“None of this matters.” Kon-Mai said. “We ceased that trivial hunt long ago.”

“Trivial?! My reputation was on the line, Sister!”

“Your reputation was that of a scoundrel and a flake.” She crossed her arms. “You cannot cry to me about losing your pride when you had none to uphold in the first place.”

“Well what about you?” Gur-Rai spat. “Miss ‘I’d NEVER join those traitor Skirmishers’ sure seems to be getting pretty buddy-buddy with them now. Where’d your pride go, Sister?”

“How dare you? I always keep my word.” Kon-Mai growled.

Dhar-Mon shook his head. “You claimed you would keep your word to the Elders on pain of death. That if you failed them, their judgement and punishment was fair. Where did those words go, Sister?”

“Are you questioning my integrity?” She hissed, her yellow teeth bared. “And if you knew the pain I went through that day, you would agree that my vows to them are forfeit!”

“You insinuate I do not know pain?!” He leaned down toward her. “It was not your skull that Bhandasura tore apart! You sought to end yourself before you dared to face that.”

“Are you saying I took the easy way?!” Kon-Mai gasped.

“I am saying you knew what was coming.” Dhar-Mon avoided her eyes. “So you cannot stand to lecture me on such things, when you are an oath breaker yourself.”

Kon-Mai looked like he’d just slapped her in the face, and stood there speechless, her eyes wide and slightly wet.

Gur-Rai just chuckled. “Well I guess I got lucky then. I got taken down the good old fashioned way.”

“Funny that you brag about being able to hunt the humans, and yet you were the only one truly felled by them.” Kon-Mai snapped. “Stop your gloating, neither of you are better than I am!”

“I’m not saying that!” Gur-Rai snapped.

“I can hear it under your breath!”

“It is like you Brother! To put us down like this!”

“Well you wanna know what I think?” Nazira finally spoke up.

“No.” Kon-Mai spat.

“You are going to side with HIM.” Dhar-Mon pointed to Gur-Rai.

“I do love him, I’ll admit. But no, Gur-Rai can be criticized.” She sat down and crossed her legs, looking the Darkstrider in the eye. “Darling, you were never going to beat XCOM because you didn’t give two shits. We both know it. You stuck with the Elders for the nice toys and the immortality, but Dhar-Mon was right. Your heart just wasn’t in it.”

Gur-Rai looked shocked. “Hunting is what I do.” He growled, but his voice was shaking.

“Exactly. You were the Hunter, not a Killer.” She giggled. “Oh, you’re out there talking big game about being a hard bastard, but you wear your heart on your sleeve, love, and I’ve seen it more than once. You wanted XCOM to win.”

Dhar-Mon and Kon-Mai looked back at their brother in shock, who avoided their gaze.

“You wanted their victory the whole time?” Kon-Mai stammered.

“Konnie. Wasn’t it obvious?” Nazira chuckled. “He didn’t know it of course, but this man hardly ever knows what he’s thinking. I’m one to talk but it’s true.” She reached up and wrapped her arm around Dhar-Mon’s wide shoulders. “And you, you big brute...you were never the Elder’s favorite. I know this, they know it, and you know it too.” She glared at Kon-Mai. “And you, Sweetie, need to get off your goddamn high horse.”

“What?” Kon-Mai hissed more in shock than in anger.

“You heard me. Honor and bravery are nice concepts, but in this world there’s only one thing that matters, and it’s not your false sense of superiority. You broke your vow to the Elders. Granted, I agree with you, you had reason. But you still broke it. You can’t act lawful when your very existence depends on chaos.” She looked up. “That goes for you too, Hero Monk.”

He pulled away from her, and Nazira turned on her heel and sat once again, the chair swaying side to side.

“You three are all you have in this world.” She said. “Whether you like it or not.”

“I know.” Kon-Mai whispered. “I know that.”

“Then stop quarreling.” Nazira said. “My brother and I would have died long ago if we let trivial things like this tear us apart.”

The three were silent, staring at the ground like children who had just been scolded.

Dhar-Mon cleared his throat. “Kon-Mai, I apologize....”

She looked up at him, something shining in her magenta eyes. “...I forgive you, Dhar-Mon. And I’m sorry too.”

They both turned and looked at Gur-Rai, who looked away. 

“...I’m sorry.” He finally muttered. “I...I didn’t mean any of it, Brother, Sister. I-”

“It’s alright.” She held up a hand. “Let us forget this.”

There was still a sense of turmoil hanging in the air, but the three of them shoved it out of their line of focus, choosing to instead bury the hatchet where it lay.

Nazira chuckled as she leaned back and laced her fingers together. No doubt Zafar would grill her later about abandoning her duties to go gallivanting across the desert, but this, she felt, was far more important.

.

.

“Thank you both for humoring my request at an audience.” Geist said, his voice slightly distorted by the sound of the radio. His image on the screen was little more than a fuzzy apparition. In the corner, Betos saw her own visage, and that of the Reapers’ leader, Konstantine Volikov.

“This better be good, Geist, you know what fucking time it is here?” Volk muttered. “I’m an old man, I need my sleep.”

Betos rolled her eyes. “Since when did you sleep at such an early hour, Volk?”

“Don’t patronize me, you wrinkly bitch.” His insult was half-hearted and Betos had long ago learned it was easier to just let them roll off her rather than try and fight him on his manners. He took a swig from his flask, belched, and jabbed at the camera. “So what’s the sitch?”

“The Commander is conspiring against us.” Geist said, leaning forward in his chair.

Betos sighed. Not this again. “In what way?”

“She has gone behind the back of the Templars and made contact with a haven.” He elaborated.

“Now, I’m not one to defend the Commander.” Volk said. “But who died and made you Elder? XCOM doesn’t need your permission to talk to the people in your region, Geist, as important as you like to think you are.”

“I know that, Volikov.” He spat. “I knew of this haven’s existence long before she met with their nefarious leader and his whore sister. They are Snake Men of ADVENT, and they harbor deadly alien creatures within their walls.”

Betos paused, conflicting emotions rising inside of her. “What deadly creatures?” She asked. “Chryssalids?”

“No, Vipers and Mutons.” Geist replied. “They have a sizable human population as well, but they are more depraved and corrupt than Sodom and Gamorrah alike.” He shook his head, the video shuddering with the movement.

“Geist, I advise you to think long and hard about who you are talking to.” Betos said. “My people are half alien, Ethereal DNA runs in our blood. Are we as depraved as you say they are?”

“Yeah, Geist.” Volk chuckled, clearly inebriated.

“You two are missing the point.” He said. “The Thin Men were confidants of the Elders, harbingers of the invasion. To cavort with them is to dance with death.”

“I think we already are.” Volk said. “She’s already recruited the goddamn Chosen, who knows what she’ll stop at?”

“The Chosen…” Betos had to choose her words carefully. “They have made horrible errors for which they must atone. But they are on the path to redemption.”

“Bullshit.” Volk tossed his cup aside. “Bull-Fucking-Shit. I don’t want those fuckers anywhere near my camp. Which, by the way, is being SWARMED by ADVENT patrols because the Blue Man Group let a Sectoid go free.”

“Perhaps they planned it.” Geist crossed his arms.

““I know we do not always see eye to eye Volk, but if your people need shelter, the Sedona Haven is open to you.” Betos added quickly. “The Reapers and Skirmishers are kin now, Volk.”

“Hm.” Volk smirked. “I keep forgetting we’re technically in-laws.”

She bristled a bit at that, but shook it off. “If we all have these concerns, should we not contact the commander of XCOM and ask her these things?” She said.

“Have you met Senuna?” Volk spat. ���She’ll go fucking ballistic!”

“I’ve served on the Avenger, Volk.” Betos hissed. “I was there when she made the decision to capture Kon-Mai Mordenna. She will listen to reason, and barring that, she will listen to me if I ask.” She knew this to be a fact. She’d done it before.”

“You seem very sure.” Geist said. “I do not mean to call your loyalty into question as well, Betos, however-”

“Then let’s not.” Volk said. “Betos, my Reapers might take you up on that offer.”

Betos smiled. “One last thing before we adjourn. What is our goal with this?”

“Goal?” Geist raised a brow.

“Senuna will want more than just accusations.” Betos folded her hands. “I must offer her a compromise.”

“Why don’t you just ask her to fly us out to the haven?” Volk covered his mouth to stifle a belch. “I’d like a vacation.”

Betos pondered that. “...That is not a bad proposal, Volk. Geist, if you want to be involved, this is the best way.”

Geist sighed loudly. “Senuna will never agree to it...but I can reach the oasis without trouble.”

“She will. I will see to it.” She assured the men. “When can I expect you, Volk?”

“In five days.” He said. “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

“And I shall see you both very soon.” Geist nodded. “Over?”

“And out.” Betos said, and the comm went dead once again.

.

.

Malinalli and Verge sighed in collective relief as they stepped onto open grass, their shoes no longer sinking in the sand. Malinalli gazed around her, smiling at the sight of the quaint and beautiful little hamlet. “Wow.” She breathed in amazement. “This place looks ancient.”

“It is.” Verge said, following her gaze. “Dakhla Oasis, if I recall, has been occupied at least since the days of Nero, and most likely before that. It’s ancient name was Set-whe. Or Resting Place.”

Malinalli reached out, laying one hand on the stone wall. “I love that. It’s withstood so much. And now it stands against ADVENT.” She looked back at Verge, who seemed to shrink back at that. “Hey, you aren’t ADVENT.”

“I wish I could believe that.” He sighed. “But I still feel like some sort of traitor...”

“Verge.” She sighed. “No one here blames you, especially not here. I highly doubt you have to worry-”

They heard a shriek. “YOU!”

Verge’s black eyes went wide as the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps drew closer to them. As he spun around, Malinalli turned and saw the three Chosen dart out from behind one of the stone walls. To her right, a flash of pink crossed her vision, and Verge was practically knocked off his feet. At first, he screamed loud enough to shatter the eardrums of all those in a 10 mile radius, but Gur-Rai jogged up,chuckling. “Verge relax! You know her!”

“I do?!” He struggled out of the snake woman’s vice-like grip. “Enlighten me!”

Nazira crossed her arms. “I know I look and sound a bit different now, V5, but after all we’ve been through?”

He blinked. “...Um?”

She sighed. “N7R42.”

He gasped. “No.”

“Yes.” She gave a little flip of her hair. “I never thought I’d see you again, V5-”

“It’s, um…” He cleared his throat.” You may call me Verge, it seems to be my new moniker, and it’s much easier to remember.”

“Oh? I wonder where they got that from.”

“Don’t ask.” Malinalli sighed.

Nazira chuckled and held out her hand to him. “My name is Nazira Ba’al-Peor. My brother goes by Zafar now.”

“How long have you been in Dakhla?” Verge asked as he took both her hands in his.

“Only three years. We settled here after our base in Isla Huemul was...consumed in a fiery blaze.” She giggled. “It’s boring as the void, but I have to admit I like it here~”

“Isla Huemul?” Verge looked confused. “Strange that sounds like…” He trailed off as Nazira turned her attention away from him and onto the only human.

“And who are you, little one?” Nazira looked Malinalli up and down like she was examining a scrumptious treat. She towered over the medic, looking down on her with curious eyes, but before she could take a step closer, Dhar-Mon put himself between the two.

“She is no toy.” He scolded. “Be gentle with her.”

Nazira scoffed. “I’m not going to eat her! What do you take me for, a snake?” She giggled, and only Gur-Rai echoed her amusement.

“I’m Malinalli.” She reached out from around Dhar-Mon and shook Nazira’s hand. “Corporal Medic on the Avenger.”

“A medic.” She looked excited. “Well, you must have the best stories.”

“Well, that’s kinda confidential…” Malinalli chuckled. “But I can tell you about bootcamp…”

“Why don’t you tell me indoors?” She beckoned the group along. “The sun is murder on my skin.”

.

.

Senuna wasn’t new to receiving surprise calls, but even so, they were annoying, especially now that she had to trek all the way back to the Avenger right before she was supposed to discuss the new terms with Zafar. She’d had it all planned out too, and now she’d be late and screw the whole thing up.

As she sat down in her swivel chair though, and turned on the camera, she smiled. “Betos! How are you, darling?”

“I am well.” Betos was never one for pleasantries, which was a shame, because Senuna could see a beautiful and radiant woman under that armor. She would have gone far on Broadway.

“So what can I do for you?” Senuna crossed her legs and folded her hands over her knees.

“Geist is aware of the haven you have contacted.” Betos said. “He is worried.”

“He’s always worried.” She flipped her hair. “Pay Geist no mind.”

“I cannot do that, Commander.” Betos said curtly. “They are my friends.”

Senuna paused at that. “Hm.” She smiled. “You have a big heart, Betos. But we already know that.”

Betos looked away. “Commander, Geist and Volk want to examine this haven themselves. They know it houses former ADVENT agents, and want confirmation that the people there will not betray the cause.”

Senuna’s eyes practically glowed as she smiled. “...They want to come here?” She giggled.

“Yes.” Betos nodded.

“...How are the Reapers?” Senuna asked. “I know you don’t like to gossip, but I might have a fix to their current predicament.”

“The Reapers…” Betos seemed to debate handing that information over. “...The Reapers have been targeted by raids as of late. They are making their way to our camp in Sedona.”

“In that case.” She leaned forward on the desk. “Tell Volk I have a proposition for him. He and Geist can come check out the haven, if Volk agrees to stay.”

.

.

“So one time, two of our newest recruits were told to trim the hedges.” Malinalli sipped her mint tea. “You know, just busywork. Well, you know how they did that?”

“How?” Nazira asked as she laid back on the mound of soft pillows they had built within Zafar’s living room. The two women were lounging on them, while Verge and Kon-Mai sat politely at the table a few feet away. Dhar-Mon was standing with his back to the wall, watching Nazira like a hawk.

“One guy lifted up the lawnmower, and the other reached his hand into the blades. He thought you started it by turning them really fast.”

“...Did it work?”

“Oh yeah.” Malinalli smiled tautly. “And guess who got to pick the bits of finger out of the bush?” She pointed to herself. “But to be fair, I was new, and that got me over my combat squeamishness.”

“I never knew your job was so demanding.” Nazira chuckled. “I’ve been in a doctor’s office, of course, but my brother and I were on the receiving end.”

“Yeah, the Gene Therapy clinics are pretty cool, I’ll admit.” Malinalli sighed.

“Not in ADVENT.” Nazira quickly said. “No, this was after I left…”

Dhar-Mon and Kon-Mai were distracted as the flap of cloth that Nazira called a door rustled a little bit. Kon-Mai could see Gur-Rai slipping past the group and outside, then stopped and looked at her over his shoulder.

She blinked, and he made a “come on” motion with his head. Debating it only for a moment, she stood, gesturing for her eldest brother to follow her.

“Leaving, darling?” Nazira called.

“Only stepping out for some air.” Kon-Mai smiled politely. “Do not let our absence bother you.”

“I’m not sure what kind of air you expect to find.” Nazira chuckled. “But good luck.”

Good luck indeed. The three Chosen met up on the other side of the stone house, the side that overlooked a field of dandelions and led to a path towards the ancient temple, dedicated to three gods.

“I’m sorry.” Gur-Rai said as he leaned against the wall. He met their gaze slowly and reluctantly. “About everything I said in the tower. It was wrong, all of it. I shouldn’t have been insulting you in the first place.”

“Brother.” Kon-Mai stepped forward. “You already said-”

“No, Sister.” He hissed. “I didn’t say it, not correctly. I mean it this time.”

“I must do the same.” Dhar-Mon’s deep, sad voice caught her off guard. “I said things in the heat of anger, yes, but...they were things I still believed, even if they aren’t true.” He shuffled his feet. “I do not believe you would ever break your vows, Sister, but at the time...I rationalized your death. I assumed you were weak.”

That hurt to hear, even in an apology, and Kon-Mai’s lip quivered.

“But you are not weak.” Dhar-Mon said. “You are the strongest woman I know, that I have the pleasure to know. I am proud that you are my sister.” He took her shoulders. “What you did was an act of bravery.”

She shook her head. “No.” She hissed. “You are right brother. I was scared…” She couldn’t stop the tears now, they dripped off her high cheekbones and onto her shirt. “I was scared of what the Elders would do to me. I was scared that they would hurt me, and I…” She hiccuped. “I simply wanted the pain to be over with.”

She felt Gur-Rai hug her from behind, as Dhar-Mon pulled her into his arms. For a moment, they just stood there, and Kon-Mai took deep breaths and tried to quell the sobs.

“Brother.” Gur-Rai said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn't tease you like that.”

“It is-”

“It’s not okay.” He buried his face in the small of Kon-Mai’s back. “I don’t usually do the whole ‘respect your elders’ bullshit, but you’re my big brother. I’m sorry I undermine you all the time. I’m sorry I make you feel less than.” He swallowed. “...I love you.”

“You do not make me feel less than.” Dhar-Mon reached around and massaged his arm. “Gur-Rai, you are my baby brother. We will always poke fun at each other. And I will always love you for exactly who you are.”

“I am not exempt from this!” Kon-Mai protested. “I am so sorry to you both. You are both capable, brave warriors. My I should never underestimate you, even when I mean only to tease.” She reached back and pulled Gur-Rai up close to her. “...When I drove my blade into my body, my last thoughts were of you.”

She heard Dhar-Mon sob quietly and pull her closer.

“I have loved you both since the day I was born.” She whispered. “And I will love you both until the day I die.”

.

.

“They’ll be fine.” Nazira chuckled, reading Malinalli’s worried expression as she stared at the door. “Those three are thick as thieves. You know that better than I do.”

Malinalli nodded. “Yeah...I just worry.”

Nazira chuckled. “You doctors. You either worry too much or not enough.” She took a drink of her tea and hesitated to speak for a moment. “The doctor who helped me and my brother. She used to be XCOM.”

“Hm?” Malinalli looked curious.

“Yes. I was wondering if you know her.” Nazira asked. “Dr. Vahlen?”

Malinalli couldn’t hide her shudder as Nazira said that. “I know of her.”

“Oh?” Nazira raised a brow. “Before your time, I suppose.”

“Yeah.” Malinalli chewed her lip. “She did a lot for the first war, they wouldn’t have held out so long without her but…” She sighed. “Reading her research notes is...kind of terrifying. She had a lot of big ideas and it just...seems so detached from the actual goal.”

Nazira chuckled. “And what is that ‘goal’?”

Malinalli folded her legs under her and stared into her tea. “Doctor, Do No Harm.”

.

.

.

.

.

(I know it’s 11 PM but it’s still technically Sunday!

Apologies for the lateness of this chapter, guys, but my brain just didn’t want to do any sort of writing last week. And then the week following I developed a sinus headache and that lasted four days! But I managed to power through it, and next chapter will be out as per the regular schedule.)

Archive: https://chosenstories.tumblr.com/

[chilling-seavey]

Anything But Mine (d.s.) - Chapter Eight

A/N Daniel isn’t really in the next few chapters but be patient...each interaction between smaller characters play important roles into the plot ;)

Saturday, October 12th, 2019

October 12th couldn't come soon enough. It was the day Callum was flying in for a visit. The twins hadn't spoken in weeks and Florence missed her brother terribly. When he said he was flying into the city, he told her he was bringing someone with him. Filled with curiosity, Florence was almost bouncing off the walls. She spent that morning preparing the apartment nicely and even dressed up a little. Since the place was so small, Callum would be staying at a hotel across the street, but she still wanted him to think she had it all together. Plus, she had to impress his guest. Whoever it was.

Sometime between mid to late-afternoon, there was a knock at the door. Clementine was sitting on the living room floor in her pink dress and looked towards the door at the noise. Florence ran down the hallway and opened the door hurriedly, taking her brother into her arms the second she saw him. Callum wrapped his arms around her back and picked her up off the floor a little.

"I'm so glad you're here!" Florence squealed, separating from him after a moment, her hands on his arms. She only then noticed the boy slightly behind Callum. He had deep natural brown hair, streaked with blonde that was set in a coiffed style away from his face. When his eyes met hers, she was startled by the vibrant blue that stared back at her. His full lips broke into a charismatic smile and he rested his arm on Callum's shoulder.

"Flora, this is Ivan. My boyfriend." Callum said slowly, as if he was nervous to hear her response.

Florence's eyes widened. After dating and being heartbroken by Aidan, she never expected Callum to want to go down that path again, but she was so happy he was comfortable enough – even in LA with their parents – to be true to himself.

"Lovely to meet you." Florence beamed.

"You as well." Ivan smiled, a hint of some European accent braided in his voice.

"Well, come on in." Florence gestured them farther into the apartment. Clementine was crawling down the hallway and Florence went to pick her up but Callum swooped in and picked her up himself.

"My sweet niece." Callum beamed, pressing kisses to her chubby cheek. "I missed you!"

"She's beautiful." Ivan smiled, reaching a finger out to tickle her stomach. Clementine shrieked with laughter, curling into Callum.

"Isn't she?" Callum held her securely.

"How was the flight?" Florence asked, sitting on the couch.

"It was fine." Callum shrugged, placing Clementine on the living room rug and kneeled down with her. "How are you holding up? I'm sorry I couldn't come back earlier."

"Yeah." Florence looked down at her hands in her lap. "It was really hard for the first few days – weeks even."

She caught Ivan's concerned gaze from the floor, Clementine holding onto his index finger and trying to put it in her mouth. "My boyfriend left me." Florence explained quickly.

"Oh no, I'm sorry." Ivan frowned.

"He was a-" Callum covered Clementine's ears, "fucking asshole anyway."

When he removed his hands Clementine giggled, still holding onto Ivan's finger. Florence chuckled lightly at Callum's bluntness.

"But I've been fine now. Grayson has been around a lot. He's really amazing and Clementine really likes him." Florence felt herself smiling again at only the thought of him.

"Ah, yes, the infamous boy. Nay, man." Callum teased.

"Callum George!" Florence gasped, cheeks flaring red. Ivan laughed.

"I haven't even met the guy and I know he's better than Matt." Callum shrugged. "So go on about him all you want. Besides, I like knowing someone out here is making you happy."

"I like knowing someone out there is making you happy." Florence winked. It was Callum's turn to blush as Ivan beamed, looking between the twins. Florence watched as her twin brother stared at his boy with nothing but admiration in his eyes and it made her smile. She truly was glad that Callum had found someone genuine to keep him busy, as he lived so far away in the world of luxury and their ridiculous parents, without his twin sister to keep him sane. Florence and Callum continued talking about their past months. When Clementine finally let go of his finger, Ivan reached across the rug to grab the colourful plastic rings, setting them in front of the nine-month-old. She wasn't interested in that as she had seen a glint of his silver necklace under his hoodie. Clementine climbed onto his lap. Florence looked over at her daughter just as she took two fistfuls of Ivan's sweater and pulled herself to her feet on her own, standing between his crossed legs.

"Oh my God!" Florence gasped.

"What?!" Callum and Ivan both jumped.

"She's never done that before!" Florence clasped her hands to her mouth. "She did that all on her own?!" she asked Ivan.

"Yeah. I wasn't even touching her." Ivan smiled, now holding her up gently by the waist. Clementine reached for his necklace with her tiny thumb and forefinger.

"Oh my God, I'm gonna cry." Florence whimpered, getting up from the couch and scooping up her daughter.

"My niece is so smart." Callum boasted, leaning back with his hands on the floor behind him. Clementine whined, reaching for Ivan again.

"I'm popular with the young crowd." Ivan smirked. Florence set her back on her feet and she fell back into Ivan's arms. Callum shuffled over and tickled her sides, making the baby laugh loudly.

"What time are we going out for dinner?" Florence asked, joining them on the rug.

"We told my brother that we'd meet at the restaurant for 6." Ivan said, still holding the baby as she played with his hoodie strings.

"Your brother?" Florence looked towards Callum.

"Yeah. He lives in the city, so Ivan hasn't seen him in a while either. We figured we'd all go out together. If that's okay with you." Callum said.

"Yes, of course. That's fine." Florence nodded. She took out her phone and checked the time; 4:56. "I should get the baby ready to go."

"I'll help." Callum offered, grabbing the baby from Ivan and standing up. The DiCaprio twins headed to the nursery and Ivan excused himself to the bathroom.

Once alone, Callum jumped on the opportunity to ask his sister what she thought of his partner.

"He seems really amazing, Cal." Florence answered honestly. Callum had Clementine on the change table, getting her freshened up before their dinner.

"Really?" Callum asked nervously.

Florence set her hand on her brother's shoulder, "Really. I'm so proud of you."

"Proud of me?" Callum frowned. "Why?"

"After all the stuff with Aidan I wasn't sure how you'd move on from that."

At the sound of his name, Callum tensed a little.

Florence continued, "But you're really finding yourself and feeling comfortable enough to go out and find someone who you like and who likes you and who treats you right. I want you to be happy."

Callum smiled at her, "Thank you."

"How are you holding up with mother and father?" Florence passed him the dress and he started getting the baby into it.

"I'm at school a lot and I stay late as often as I can. And I'm at Ivan's as much as I can too. They don't know about him of course." Callum explained.

"Do his parents?"

"They do. I haven't met them though. They live in Spain."

"That's the accent." Florence snapped her fingers. "I knew I recognized it."

Callum laughed, "You should have. Our childhood piano teacher had the thickest Spanish accent."

"Oh my God, I totally forgot about that!" Florence snickered at the memory, shaking her head. Callum picked up Clementine, setting her on his hip.

"And I'm expecting to meet Grayson at some point this week too." Callum winked.

"We aren't even dating." Florence mumbled.

"Yet." Callum patted her cheek on his way to the door.

Ivan was sitting in the living room again when they left the nursery. Right away, the boys started getting their shoes on. Florence worked on gathering the diaper bag, Clementine's food, and the stroller before getting herself into her shoes. Callum buckled Clementine in her stroller and they all headed out.

It was only a five-minute walk to the restaurant. It was a sunny evening and the sun was only just starting to dip behind the skyscrapers of downtown Toronto. Callum and Ivan walked ahead of Florence, hand in hand. It made her smile. It felt so good to see her brother happy.

The restaurant was eccentric; mosaic stained glass and antique objects placed around the dining room. It was a staple Toronto restaurant – Callum said he had suggested it as Ivan had never been before. Callum had made the reservation, so he checked them in at the host stand. Clementine peered around the bustling area with wide eyes from her stroller, so many random antique objects for the baby to admire. Ivan seemed to be doing the same.

"Someone from your party is already here. Right this way." The hostess led them through the tightly packed restaurant, under the skylight that was shaded by fake ivy strands that were laced throughout the ceiling. As they approached their table, Ivan ran ahead to meet the boy that had jumped up from his chair.

"That's my boy!" they both screamed youthfully, embracing each other tightly. They quickly greeted each other in Spanish before they turned to Callum and Florence. 

Florence was surprised to see Ivan's carbon copy standing next to him. She had never seen twins who looked so identical. Grayson and his brother were identical but somehow looked nothing alike. This was almost overwhelming. Even still, Ivan's twin brother had softly styled hair – less dramatic than Ivan's intense coif – and rounder cheeks, but still the same blonde highlights and cheeky grin.

"Emilio, this is Callum. I've told you about him. And that's his twin sister Florence and her daughter Clementine." Ivan introduced, one arm around his brother's shoulders.

"Hey." Emilio smiled, going up on his tip-toes a bit to see into the stroller. Clementine stared right back at him, her fingers in her mouth.

The group sat down at their table, one set of twins on either side. Callum was across from Ivan and almost right away their hands were together on top of the table. Clementine was in a high chair at the head of the table.

"How old is she?" Emilio asked.

"Nine months." Florence responded, velcroing the bib around her daughter's neck.

"She's beautiful."

"Thanks." Florence blushed a little, never knowing what to say when people said that to her. Clementine took the green plastic spoon from the table and stuck it in her mouth. Emilio smiled at her, making the baby shriek with laughter.

"You're so loud, Clemmy." Florence chuckled, opening the baby food jar before peeling the spoon from her daughter's tight grip. She gave the puree a quick stir before offering a scoop to the baby. Florence peeked over at Emilio who had his menu open but was still making faces at the baby.

“So what are you doing here in the city while your brother is in LA?" Florence asked him.

"I'm a student at University of Toronto." Emilio said, finally looking towards her. She couldn't help but admire his ocean blue eyes. They contrasted his dark hair beautifully. "I'm majoring in Psychology with a minor in Spanish Studies."

"That's cool. Psychology always interested me in high school." Florence tried to clean up Clementine's mouth with the edge of the spoon.

"Yeah, it's pretty sweet." Emilio nodded. “Ivan and I first went to LA together but it wasn’t really my vibe. Plus UofT had some good reviews so I figured I’d give it a go. My brother wanted to stay in LA for modelling.”

“You look like more of the modelling type than him.” Florence blurted out.

“Oh really?” Emilio snorted.

“Just saying.” Florence played it off cooly, quickly feeding Clementine another spoonful.

“What do you do out here?” Emilio asked her.

Florence hesitated, "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"I mean, I don't go to school and I don't have a job. So, nothing.”

"Oh."

"I don't have anyone to take care of Clementine so I stay at home with her. Callum helps me pay for the apartment and I have a couple friends here that help out when I need it too."

"Do you want to go to school?"

"Yeah. I was going to go to university for architecture."

"Now that's cool."

Florence couldn't help but laugh.

“If you guys are done flirting, we’re about to order.” Ivan called.

“We weren’t flirting!” Florence gaped.

“Your blushing says otherwise.” Ivan smirked playfully.

“Oh, leave her alone, babe.” Callum laughed. Emilio hid his pink cheeks behind his menu. Florence bit her lip, scraping the bottom of the jar before giving Clementine the last bite.

The waiter came over and they placed their orders; Florence having to scan the menu quickly as she had been preoccupied with the baby. Once the waiter left, Florence passed her a plastic set of keys to play with.

“So, Florence,” Ivan started, “tell me some savage stories of Callum as a kid.”

“Savage?” Florence laughed. “I don’t know about that. Savage wasn’t quite our lifestyle.”

“Disappointing.” Emilio tisked.

“Tell us about it.” Callum rolled his eyes.

“Well,” Florence thought for a moment, “our parents were really strict so honestly there’s nothing very good. But in the last year of high school, Callum and I threw a massive party while they were out of town.”

“How was that?” Ivan prodded.

“Someone almost broke our father’s prized award, our parents came home early and busted us, and Florence got knocked up.” Callum answered for her. Ivan and Emilio laughed loudly.

“Callum George.” Florence said through her teeth. She then retaliated with, “Callum punched a guy in the face within the first couple weeks of moving here.”

“Now that’s pretty savage.” Emilio nodded.

“He was harassing...” Callum stopped mid sentence, his gaze falling to the table.

“One of our friends.” Florence continued for him, taking his hand in hers under the table. “So he deserved it.”

“That’s pretty savage and all but no one can beat Emilio’s roof jump three years ago.” Ivan boasted.

“Roof jump?!” Florence gaped at the boy across the table from her.

“He almost broke his back!” Ivan added.

“Okay, it wasn’t that bad.” Emilio scoffed. “I jumped from the roof of our LA house we were staying at into the pool. Just couldn’t walk for a few days. No big deal.”

“Holy shit.” Florence breathed. “You definitely beat our story.”

“And that was only one.” Emilio chuckled. Clementine threw the keys on the table and he picked them up for her.

“We always got into trouble.” Ivan finished.

“Never us. We were forbidden.” Callum said.

“I can tell just by the way you talk about your parents.” Ivan replied softly. He then directed to Florence, “We were raised in a poor family just outside Barcelona so we could run around and do anything really.”

“And now you’re living in LA and Toronto and are successful.” Florence said.

“Yep.” Emilio smiled. He and his brother high fived. Dinner arrived to their table a few minutes later and they all ate in silence for a bit. Clementine started getting fussy so Florence picked her up out of the high chair and sat her on her lap, bouncing her on her knee a bit to keep her entertained. Even still, Clementine shifted uncomfortably, whining on the verge of tears.

“Here, I’ll take her for a walk.” Callum offered, setting his napkin on the table and pulling the baby to him.

"No, Cal, you have to eat." Florence protested lightly.

"It’s alright. I can eat later. I missed my girl." Callum got up from the table, Clementine calming down quickly in his arms. "We’re gonna go look at the pretty things?" he cooed to her.

"I'm coming too!" Ivan jumped up and they walked off together. Florence smiled lightly and looked back to Emilio. He had pasta sauce over his face like Clementine did. They made eye contact and he froze guiltily for a second before they laughed and he grabbed his napkin. They fell into a momentary silence.

"How is it for you, living so far away from your brother?" Florence asked.

"It's really hard." Emilio admitted, absentmindedly stirring the pasta around his plate with his fork. "I can't sleep sometimes even. It's ridiculous honestly, we've been living on our own about a year now and it's still no easier than the first day."

"I feel the same way." Florence agreed. "I have some friends out here. But Callum was always my go-to and my best friend."

"I have a few friends here I guess but I rarely ever see them. We're not close. Everyone else is in Spain."

"Can you believe that the only 'friends' I have out here are Callum's ex-boyfriend's family and his friends?" Florence snorted.

"That's rough." Emilio chuckled.

“Apart from one but...yeah...it’s a little weird.”

Emilio simply smiled at her. 

"We should stay in touch." Florence said. "When we miss our brothers we can cry and watch movies together."

"I like that idea." Emilio agreed. He took out his phone and passed it across the table to her. Florence typed in her number and handed it back to him just as the rest of their group returned.

"Mama!" Clementine squealed, reaching to her from Callum's arms.

"I don't know how you do it." Florence said to her brother as she took her daughter from him. Clementine was sat on her lap and reached onto the table. Florence pushed anything potentially dangerous out of reach, tuning into the conversation that was arising once again.

They finished on a good note, dessert shared amongst the four – Clementine even had a bite – and soon it was time to leave. Ivan hugged his brother goodbye; they would be seeing each other the following day for some much needed quality time. Emilio hugged Callum and Florence goodbye too. Florence could have sworn hers lingered a bit longer than necessary but she wasn't complaining. Callum and Ivan parted ways to their hotel and Florence was left to go home alone again. Clementine was fast asleep by then and she was tucked into bed minutes later.

When Florence finally returned to her bedroom for the night, her phone was flashing from her bedside table. She walked over and sat on the side of her bed as she opened the text message.

It was really nice meeting you tonight. I can't wait to see you again.