#the only thing getting me through the circuits is stupid fish

[nokkayy]

he deserves a blunt

[themurphyzone]

Gravity Falls Oneshot Fic: Six Months Later

Summary: Canon Compliant. It's been six months since Ford fell through the portal, and Stan isn't any closer to getting him back. He's exhausted, alone, and angry, which is always a recipe for disaster. But he has to keep trying, no matter what the personal cost may be.

Rated T, warning for profanity and references to drinking.

AN: In which I consume too much Stanley Pines angst in this fandom and want to create my own story. I applaud all of you who can make his life even worse.

AO3

The portal didn’t open. A single, lonely light flickered uselessly at one of its triangular points. The structure that came straight from one of Ford’s old sci-fi nerd shows refused to do anything but loom against the wall, taunting Stan for his inability to understand its mechanics. 

He flipped switches. He pounded on buttons. Every lever, every keystroke, everything that could be moved and shifted and flung about ended up somewhere far away from its original position. 

Yet nothing worked. 

Ford’s goddamned journal laid open on the control panel, the jumble of letters, numbers, and symbols melting together whenever Stan tried to make sense out of the shitty mumbo-jumbo instructions he was forced to work with. 

Six months. Today marked the six month anniversary of Ford’s disappearance. 

He’d still be here if I…if he hadn’t built the damn thing in the first place! Why do you even need a dimensional transporter anyway? What, this world ain’t good enough for you anymore, Sixer? 

Stan’s fist closed around the lighter in his pocket. 

“I should burn you,” Stan growled to the journal, a triangle with a single, slitted eye staring back at him. “You took my brother from me. Go rot in book hell with Great Expectations and Introduction to Algebra Part One.” 

Ah, ah, ah, the triangle tutted, winking its eye. Burn me again if you dare. But you might not ever see your brother for the rest of your miserable life without my help! 

Startled by the sudden voice, Stan shot to his feet, nearly tripping over the chair he’d been sitting in for the past eight hours. He raised his fists, shoulders hunched back as he prepared to deliver a solid left hook into the intruder’s face. 

“WHY DONCHA COME OUT AND FIGHT ME YOURSELF INSTEAD OF HIDING, YOU BASTARD?” Stan screamed, his voice echoing off the unnaturally smooth walls of the underground lab. 

He’d been sloppy at hiding all this mad scientist bullshit. He’d always thrown caution to the wind, but now his recklessness bit him in the ass with a vendetta that made Rico’s ruthless methods look tame. 

The intruder didn’t show their cowardly face. 

He didn’t care who they were. Whether they were a government agent, Rico’s goons, an old Columbian cellmate, or an idiot who’d gotten too curious for their own good, Stan was prepared to keep the portal a secret, no matter the cost. 

He marched over to a machine with a bunch of spinning dials that probably had a fancy science name, but he didn’t care to remember it. He tore the machine away from the wall to flush out the intruder’s hiding spot, ripping out several black, sparking wires in the process. 

But there was only a heap of metal and circuits where the machine once stood. 

Nobody else was here. 

Stan was alone. His secret was still safe among the droning of complicated technology and isolation from the world above.  

That voice…he could’ve sworn he’d heard a voice that wasn’t his own. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve said the stupid triangle drawing was talking to him. 

A harsh, humorless laugh erupted from Stan’s throat. 

Of course he knew better. Drawings and journals can’t talk. 

Must’ve been the hard liquor he’d found in a room that was probably supposed to be the kitchen. Probably shouldn’t have downed the half-empty bottle that smelled like wet socks and rotting fish, but the streets taught him to take what he could get, before someone else snatched food, money, or his car from under his nose. 

Maybe Ford spiked the bottle, drank half, and forgot about it somewhere in his creepy hermit’s cabin. Or if Stan wasn’t stoned out of his mind from whatever the hell he drank, the stale air of this entire fucking basement was messing with his head. 

No wonder Ford looked as though he was one trip away from the loony bin. The portal and mysteries and his obsession with discovering things people were never meant to fully understand had driven him to the point of insanity until he was nothing more than a paranoid madman who believed everyone who came knocking at his door was out to steal his eyeballs. 

“Like anyone would want your eyes, you jerk,” Stan scoffed. He had a desperate need to fill in the silence and hear something that wasn’t the constant beeping of these damn machines. “They were shit when we were kids and I bet they’re still shit now.” 

Suddenly, there was a loud screech, like the obnoxious cry of a microphone someone set up without regard for anyone’s hearing. Startled, Stan clamped his hands around his ears, his shoulder protesting in pain from the sudden movement. The material of his threadbare shirt scratched uncomfortably against his burn. He knew he needed to check it for signs of infection, kept reminding himself and putting it off because he didn’t want to think about Ford shoving him (not on purpose. Ford would never do it on purpose. Right?) against scorching metal. 

The machine he’d ripped away laid on its side, dials popping out on tiny, curled springs. It shuddered once, twice, a thin trail of smoke pouring through a growing crack in its exterior.

Just as the stench of smoke hit Stan’s nose, blue flames burst through the fragile glass, and he instinctively shielded his face from the onslaught of heat. 

STANLEY! 

A terrified voice. A six-fingered hand reaching out for help that would never come. A pair of glasses falling away from wide, sunken eyes that bored straight through Stan. 

Without thinking, Stan threw himself at Ford, flames searing his outstretched hand, his fingers grasping at a blaze that could not be held.

Ford’s image vanished, and Stan only succeeded in burning his hand. 

“Fuck!” Stan screamed, slamming his fist into the hot metal over and over again. It hurt like hell, but it was the only solution he had left. 

Punching was all he had. All he was good for. The perpetual bruises on his knuckles were a testament to that. 

A good punch could knock out a hired goon, an opponent in the boxing ring, or fix the signal of a shitty TV in an equally shitty motel room.

Real men speak with their fists, Pa always said. It was a tough lesson, hammered in every time he and Ford came home after a thrashing from one of the many bullies that prowled Glass Shard Beach. When they punch you, punch them back a hundred times harder. Now don’t bother me about this again and stop whining. That won’t get you anywhere in the real world. 

But Stan’s fists couldn’t bring Ford home. Sometimes, when he had no ideas left, he resorted to punching the triangular structure in a vain attempt at jumpstarting the damn thing. 

For all his effort, he was rewarded with ten bleeding and nearly broken fingers. 

Shame his old man’s crappy life lessons didn’t cover how to get his brother back from an interdimensional portal. 

It’s your own damn fault, you buffoon. You gonna cry like a wimp or do something useful for once? I ain’t obligated to feed you anymore, so figure it out yourself. 

Yeah, that’s probably what he’d say if he found out about this mess. 

Not that he or Ma would ever know or understand what truly happened that horrible day. And Stan refused to confide in Ma either. He didn’t want to break her heart, didn’t want to be an even shittier son than he already was. 

His punches turned sloppy and weak, exhaustion setting into his muscles no matter how much he wanted to keep going. His hits were no better than an amateur’s. 

Blood dripped from his fingers, sinking into his ragged pants and staining the worn fabric. The material wasn’t quite dark enough to truly hide the telltale red splotches, nor was it thick enough to stop the chill from seeping to his skin. While he’d borrowed Ford’s leftover clothing for quick, improvised tours of the Murder Hut for the townsfolk of Gravity Falls, he never wore them when he was alone. 

He could ignore how Ford’s shirt and coat felt as though they would split at the seams, revealing him as an impostor who ki–took his brother’s place temporarily, whenever he had other people waving their money in his face, eager to hear more kooky tales of the strange and mysterious wonders of all the broken junk surrounding them. 

But when he was alone, with only his thoughts, a journal, and secrets to accompany him at every turn, he only wore the clothes he’d arrived in. Sure, he’d lifted some new shirts and pants from the local mall a few weeks ago, but he didn’t dare use them until he absolutely had no choice. 

It was so stupidly easy to shoplift. Got free meals at the diner through cleverly worded sob stories, and the waitress didn’t seem to remember the accident that cost her an eye at all. The local cops put other departments to shame with their incompetence, and they seemed more interested in beating up random fire hydrants with their batons than stopping crimes and writing parking tickets or whatever else cops were supposed to do. 

Nobody knew about the lab, the portal, or that he was actually Ford’s estranged twin from out of town. 

In the six months he’d been in Gravity Falls, he’d gotten away with everything. 

It almost made him feel ashamed, if he had any shame or decency left from keeping himself alive over the past ten years. 

One day, if he lived long enough to see his mission through, he’ll get sloppy with his secrets. Not out of confidence that nobody would ever suspect a fraud like him, but rather because he would become weary of slaving away at the portal, night after night without ever reaching a breakthrough.

Imagine that, a high school dropout with no future trying to start a machine that needs PHD levels of intelligence to understand. 

No, he was the cautionary tale that parents used to frighten their kids into being good and obedient and all that junk. If they didn’t take those warnings to heart, then they’d find themselves scraping barnacles and seagull shit off the pier until they died. 

Stan shrugged off his jacket and threw it over the fire, the cold underground air hitting his skin. He stomped out the dying blaze, leaving boot imprints all over the useless jacket. Damn thing never kept him warm anyway. 

The fire coughed out a final hiss before it disappeared. The dying crackles faded away, leaving the lab in silence once more. 

Stan wiped the blood off his fingers with the tattered remains of a sleeve, though it was a useless action in the end. He could clean his hands all he wanted, but they would always be covered with grime and drops of crimson.

Someday, maybe he’d hear frantic footsteps thundering down the narrow corridor. He’d hear furious voices demanding that he come clean with his secrets, answer for his crimes against his family, and shut down his hopes of bringing his brother home. 

And he’d welcome that day, because he wouldn’t be alone in this horrible place anymore.  

He stood up, his back aching as if he was much older than twenty-seven. But he would push aside his pain, work through any sickness, and fight off exhaustion for as long as he could. 

He had no other choice. 

It was time to get back to work.

[skylarmoon71]

Eobard Thawne (Flash) - Extra

It’s all bittersweet, being back.

You’d woken up in the hospital with a clean bill of health. Everyone was shocked. Especially the guard who saw you take a full blast of lightning straight to the chest.

When you got to the lab, you didn’t expect the round of applause from fellow scientists. Everyone in the building was standing at the entrance clapping. You shuffled to the side to question one of the other interns that worked with you.

“W-What’s going on?”

She smiled.

“You crazy psycho, you saved the entire lab. That bolt that you ran into would have hit the circuit box in that room. Firefighters said if it had connected, the whole place would have gone up in smoke. You saved billions of dollars of research. Not to mention how many casualties you prevented other buildings close by.”

“I-I did?”

She nods, and she pushes you forward as you walk through the hall waving awkwardly and shaking hands with everyone you seem to pass by. The CEO of the company is wearing the biggest smile. “

“Thank you so much. There’s nothing I can truly do to express my gratitude. “ She shakes your hand vigorously and you just giggle, rubbing the back of your neck.

“N-No problem. A-Anytime.”

The remainder of the day you’re met with the royal treatment. It’s a little strange, but nice to be recognized. Even Jimmy had found you at some point and basically bowed at your feet from protecting his tech. All in all, it was a great day.

But as you returned that afternoon, you felt a bit hollow.

There was no sign of Eobard. It was a bit naive to think he would jump in after you, but you hoped that maybe if he felt even a glimmer of what you did, he would risk it.

So you wait.

Day one you’re hopeful.

Day two you’re desperate.

Day three, you see the truth.

Walking into the lab on the fourth day, you’re fairly sluggish. You get to work on your machine and many others. Your time at star labs has given you a lot of insight. Working day and night with such intelligent people really opened up your eyes. If you thought you got recognition for saving the lab, when you finally got your machine up and running, your resident supervisor was practically glowing with pride as broke down how it worked. It was extraordinary. With any luck, in a matter of months they could actually get it working in hospitals.

The following week, you're sitting on your couch, watching a repeat of one of your favorite episodes. It’s stupid to torture yourself like this. Looking at something you could no longer have. But it was the only thing you have left. You clenched the pillow that night, falling asleep to the sound of Eobard giving Barry a pep talk while dealing with the latest resident bad.

On your way to work the next morning, you down a cup of coffee and get started on a new project.

“What are you working on?”

You smile at Jimmy. He’s become somewhat of a colleague rather than a rival, especially after you helped him with his own creation.

“It’s a memory foam I guess. For people suffering from Dementia and Alzheimer's. I figured if I can create the cure for cancer, why stop there. There’s so many diseases and illnesses out there. We can do so much for people if we really put our mind to it. I guess my time in that coma showed me exactly what I wanted to do. I want to save people.”

“That’s..incredible (Y/N).”

You grin.

“Thank you, I aim to please.” you joke.

He laughs and you spot your supervisor at the door. You wave at him, returning your focus to your work.

The door opens behind as John walks in.

“This is where all our other paid interns work on different projects for the better of humanity. You hear that, paid interns."

 Everyone in the room laughs at John’s quip. He’s caught you all a few times chatting around in the lab or playing uno. So his words aren’t completely unwarranted.

“Who’s the new fish?” Jimmy asks.

You can hear a number of chuckles, and you laugh, drawing up your rough sketch for the blueprints you’ll need to make.

“My name is Eobard, Eobard Thawne.”

Your head whips around at the name and you drop the pencil. 

Your eyes are planted on the blond haired man and the second he sees you, he offers a smile. It’s so warm and filled with light, you almost break down right there. He walks right up to you with his hand extended.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

You just gape for a few seconds, when you finally gather the courage to reach out, you take his hand. A pleasant shock rushes through your finger tips and his awestruck expression mirrors your own. He must realize that he’s been holding your hand and staring for far too long. He pulls back nervously.

“S-Sorry. I didn’t get your name."

You offer the biggest smile you can, because this is nothing short of a miracle.

“(Y/N) (L/N), it’s really nice to meet you.”

He’s smiling just as brightly.

“You too.” 

[thebladeblaster]

So okay I have the stupidest idea and I have finally decided to share it because I’ve been thinking about it so much basically…

A Yu-Gi-Oh-ized version of Psyqualia

This is just the beginning of the stupid😅. Considering I have been thinking of Vanguard x Yugioh a lot recently I was thinking of how Psyqualia would be in the Yugioh universe. You could easily explain it away as a psychic duelist power but I thought that was boring.

In Duel Monsters the origins of the powers are rather dark like the Millennium Items were made through human sacrifice. So considering Psyqualia is obviously very space-like and alien I thought what if I went with a cosmic horror angle to its origin?

Here’s the stupid

The idea I have for it is loosely based on the H.P. Lovecraft story The Shadow Over Innsmouth. To make a long story short the towns people in the story worship Dagon and turn into these weird fish creatures.

In the idea the Void replaces Dagon and the townsfolk’s are the Soryu. Essentially the Soryu worshipped the Void and were bestowed with the power of Psyqualia in return. As Leon narrates in Asia Circuit they use this power to conquer the seven seas. The Soryu in this version of the story are destroyed and trapped on the island by Dartz and the Oricalchos. However, not all of the Soryu were trapped on the island and were elsewhere when it happened. Most of them are hunted down and have their souls taken. Though, some do survive this.

So, the descendants of these survivors are capable of having Psyqualia. It has always bothered me that the requirements for Psyqualia seemed so broad that it was really confusing as to why no one after the og series gets it. So, basically that’s why I thought of the whole bloodline thing and tied it to the Soryu. Everyone who has Psyqualia in the present is a descendant but your not really guaranteed to have it. On top of needing to be descended from the Soryu you also need to fulfill the original conditions for having Psyqualia. I was also thinking considering that Psyqualia would probably be recessive making it more exclusive 🤔.

Other important stuff

This whole thing is basically how the Link Joker units came to be and why they’re so varied. The Link Joker units are not only those who were assimilated but those who were descended from those who made a contract with the Void on various planets and joined it.

1st generation Psyqualia user (Psyqualia Zombie): Basically the people who made a contract with the Void. Because they made a contract they are bound by its will and lose much of their free will. They instantly have a fully developed Psyqualia.

I thought this would be an interesting way to explain the Psyqualia bargain sale starting in season 2😅. I was thinking this could be used for Ibuki and also an interesting reference to Psyqualia Zombie from the manga/reboot also the comparison that’s made between Reverse and Psyqualia in og. Actually yeah they should be called Psyqualia Zombies.

Descendant Psyqualia user(If you can think of a cool shorter name pls share it): They are those who are descendants of the Soryu. They aren’t bound by the Void’s will and have to gradually awaken their Psyqualia.

This is obviously the camp that Aichi and co is in

Now for the ADVANCED stupid

Honestly I probably thought of this because I’ve been thinking about Tekken 😅. To be fair this is also related to The Shadow Over Innsmouth. Basically the idea is that rather than the turning into fish people thing that it would make the Psyqualia users transform into “demons” (or whatever you call what a Link Joker unit is). Though, like Tekken and unlike The Shadow Over Innsmouth it would be more temporary with it being able to be shifted in and out of. So, anyway this is probably WAY too extra. Though, to be fair this IS Yugioh we’re talking about. I thought it would be an interesting explanation for Ren’s slit eyes.

Anyway this idea is SUPER silly but I wanted to share it because I can’t stop thinking about it. So, this is the version of Psyqualia I came up with for the Yugioh universe 😅.

[svchengss]

hey barista! | l.dh

summary | befriending the barista from your local cafe doesn’t seem too bad

pairing | lee donghyuck x fem!reader ft. jaemin who’s a rlly cute side character in this :(

genre | fluff, angst, slight humour (?)

warnings | a kiss?? i don’t think there’s any but if i missed anything do lmk !!

word count | 3k+

s. tg | @hyuckefi [my apologies since i didn’t release a proper teaser for this 🙏🏻]

author’s note | this is my first fic exceeding 1k words so if u enjoyed reading this, please leave some feedbacks !! rb’s are also appreciated :D ALSO I SUCK AT SUMMARIES LMAO PLS IGNORE THAT

just another day of working at palm coffee, the same old routine. cleaning the countertop and tables before opening up the cafe, prepping the ingredients - more for top favourites! - and examining the machines to make sure they’re working properly. that’s some of hyuck’s daily routines as a barista. he didn’t mind them though, he loved his job. he couldn’t specify the reason why but all these tasks are genuinely interesting to him.

seeing you drop by the cafe is a normal occurrence for him. since you are a regular customer after all, the rest of the staff already know you well. heck, they’re even good friends with you. jaemin hangs out with you more than he does despite being jaemin’s childhood friend. except for him, he doesn’t really know why. he’s not really shy, considering the fact that he’s a social butterfly. he just couldn’t bring himself to say anything to you, the only times he did so was to take your orders when the rest of the workers were busy in the store.

upon hearing the doorbell chime which signals a new customer entering the cafe, hyuck blurted out the usual line. “hello, welcome to palm coffee! how can i help-“, looking up from the cash register only to find you in a disheveled state. “-you?” he eyes you up and down, noting how a few strands of your hair were out of place, the nude lipstick smeared on the left corner of your mouth and your outfit looks really rushed. 

“sorry, what was your name again, hyuck right?” you quickly glanced at the nametag hanging nicely on his apron. “i’m in a rush right now, can i get a,” you scanned over the menu behind him, “uh, white coffee, please?”. 

“that will be six dollars. you can use the restroom in the meantime to, you know, touch up your makeup and stuff,” he takes the bills from your hand, putting them in the machine in front of him before flashing you with that warm smile of his. you wished him a quick thanks before disappearing into the back of the place.

now that was embarrassing.

your eyes scanned over the hall to find your friend before hearing her shout your name from across. damn, why does she have to be so loud? stares were directed towards you as you walked up the stairs to your designated seat. all the chatter going on in the lecture hall became quiet as soon as your professor placed her things on the desk, which means class has started. 

after hearing a two-hour lecture and writing some notes - where suddenly song lyrics and scribbles appear - the words you’ve been waiting to hear finally echoed through the speakers. 

“class is dismissed, thank you everyone for listening,” mrs. hui’s voice later being flushed out by the buzzing voices of the students walking out the hall, determined to finish their own activities. you stuffed your ipad and papers into your light yellow jansport backpack before going out to meet vic who’s waiting for you outside. 

“i’m exhausted, what did she even teach just now?” vic sighed to her heart’s content. you can’t blame her, today’s topic was quite complicated. circuits analysis or something? you can’t really wrap your head around it, your brain being stuffed with all the information. vic kept on ranting  about the problems she faced from the moment she woke up, making you giggle at some comments she made. 

“wait for me, i’m almost done,” he folded his apron neatly before shoving it into the drawer and grabbing his bag from the counter to join jaemin, who’s waiting at the front door with the keycard. hyuck accepted jaemin’s request to help him with some shopping for his sister’s birthday party next week. obviously, the rest of the staff were also invited. 

jaemin divided the shopping list into two, allowing hyuck to find the rest of the things with ease.

“now where are the streamers…” he muttered out loud enough for himself to hear, crouching down to browse through the party decorations on the shelf. or he thought so, as you could hear him sighing clearly in dire need of the certain decoration, that you decided to help him out. 

“um, hyuck? i think the party streamers are in the aisle beside this one? you look a bit troubled there,” you chuckled lightly. the heat flushed to his cheeks, feeling dumbfounded. 

“really? uh, thank you for the help,” he gave you a small grin that could hardly be seen if you didn’t spot the corner of his lips. and with that, he’s long gone with his shopping basket.

you are fond of the atmosphere you’re in right now. the decorations left you in awe - white and pink silk hanging from the wall with silver letter balloons spelling out happy birthday stitched onto them. you can see jaemin’s sister, eun-ji, being carried out of her room with a small flowy white dress and wearing a golden bow on her head, her brunette hair being tied into ponytails. the na family really adore their youngest girl.

meanwhile, there are only a couple of adults your age attending the party -  jaemin’s co-workers, some of his other friends which you aren’t familiar with and hyuck. he looked rather chill, with an oversized beige sweater and white jeans to suit the party’s theme. you’re not quite bad as well, your hair combed nicely and kept neat with a headband, a white sundress with strawberry patterns on it fit nicely on your figure, complemented with a heart-locket necklace placed on your collarbones. before reaching jaemin’s house, you made sure to drop by a local store to get some gifts for eun-ji. she’s a very well-mannered kid which made you adore her very much.

“y/n? very glad to see you here,” hyuck said as he approached you, offering you a plate of cake which he cut.

“i could say the same to you too, mr. lee,” you let out a soft laugh. he made sure to keep a mental note over how pretty you looked today.

“y/n, hyuck! glad you two broke the ice, did you know how hurt i was seeing you two act like strangers whenever y/n came by the cafe?” jaemin enveloping you into a small hug before fake pouting. you can only laugh at the fake debate the two guys in front of you were having. after conversing with hyuck and jaemin for quite some time, you realised that he’s a cool person to talk to, where all this time, you thought he hated you for some reason. before leaving, you made sure to thank mrs. na for hosting the party and off you went home. 

following the previous encounters, hyuck felt much more comfortable around you - even hanging out with you during his shift where you would do your assignments at the cafe he’s working at. every now and then, he would also invite you to hang out with him and jaemin. however, what he didn’t realise was how he slowly pent up feelings - romantically. 

ding dong!

he pressed on the doorbell button with a box of doughnuts in his left hand. the three of you were supposed to be having a movie night, but jaemin got caught up with his groupwork which leaves the two of you alone. 

“hey hyuck! come in,” you gestured, arranging the cushions on your sofa to make it look more organized. the interior of your rented apartment is calming, the light grey walls suiting the navy blue sofa and furniture with darker undertones. the walls are also not left empty, with modern art portraits hanging from it. 

“i brought donuts, your favourite, right?” he opened the box, placing it on the coffee table while you set up the television. you wished him a quick thank you before grabbing two canned drinks from the refrigerator, handing one to him and pressing play on the remote control. you two weren’t quiet throughout the whole movie, with snarky comments on how hot the actors were or how stupid they were being were made. 

he didn’t know you were sleepy though as all of a sudden, he could feel the weight of your head on top of his shoulder. it was a rather awkward situation as he didn’t move at all so you could sleep comfortably. before long, he joined you and dozed off to wonderland. the next morning, you were more than embarrassed to find yourself cuddling up to him, with the next movie still playing on the screen.

seeing your figure outside the front door made hyuck more excited to greet you today. after making a quick order for a green tea latte, you fished out your purse from your handbag, feeling frantic if you’ve lost it outside. luckily, you were the only customer in line as the rest of them were already seated and carrying out their own businesses.

“sorry, but i think this might be yours,” you turned around to find a tall-looking guy handing out your black purse. a wave of relief washed over your soul, thanking the latter profusely.

“mind if i buy you a drink? i hate feeling like i owe someone,” you offered, which he gladly accepted. 

“i’d like a double espresso, please,” he kept his hands into his pockets. 

“and your name, sir?” hyuck looked mildly bothered.

“yukhei,” he ran his slightly blonde hair through the slender fingers. hyuck hated how cocky he looked, feeling more annoyed than ever over the scene that was played in front of him just now. he hated how yukhei looked at you. 

why should he get jealous? he’s just a mere friend to you, that’s all. you have to stop overreacting, hyuck. 

those words kept running through his mind all day.

“dude, are you okay? you looked-” jaemin opened the staff room, interrupting him from the self-talk he was having, “-distracted,” finishing up his sentence. 

“nope, i’m just fine,” he said, bringing the honey smile back onto his face. jaemin nodded before disappearing back to the front to serve the customers. 

stop being so jealous, hyuck. you’re just a friend. not more, not less. 

“jaemin, how do you know if you like someone?” that question is kind of shocking to him, especially if it’s coming from hyuck. of course, he’s had a crush before but it was during middle school. just a silly, little crush. growing up, he’s never had one - not even in high school.

“you’ve asked the right person,” jaemin managed to do his obnoxious voice, even while driving the car. he’s right, he is the matchmaker of the friend group, just how many relationships worked out because of him? eyes still focused on the road - he’s a responsible driver of course, he began to explain the feeling to hyuck, making his points loud and clear.

“first of all, you start feeling a little too happy whenever you’re around them. and no, this is not the oh-we’re-best-friends-forever type of happy, it’s the i’ll-make-you-the-happiest-person-on-earth one. not to forget, you will also experience some kind of turbulence in your heart, expect them to be jumping around a bit. or a lot, whichever suits you the best.

you also tend to feel nervous around that person. like, stuttering your words in obvious or non-obvious ways, feeling faster heartbeats than usual, you name it. oh! if you’ve ever felt jealous whenever they are around someone else, i mean, in affectionate ways, you might have one. however, my tip is for you not to act out of your mind. you don’t want to ruin whatever relationship you have currently, do you?” even when driving, he still managed to deliver his points with full precision and accuracy. 

nodding his head, hyuck took some mental notes to be thought through when he gets home. 

hyuck stared at you, whose figure is snoring soundly on his lap. he assumed you must be feeling exhausted, mid-terms just ended after all. while threading his fingers through your hair, he remembered what jaemin said to him weeks earlier.

1. being happy around them

like jaemin said, it is normal to be happy around your friends. but being with you, it kind of gave more joy for him. not to mention that he started to catch himself smiling over your texts and being reminded of you over small things - your favorite donut topping, the name of that one stray puppy you gave. 

2. feeling nervous around them

his heart would beat a lot faster whenever you get closer towards him, whether accidentally or to mess with him. 

3. getting jealous over someone else

he shouldn’t be jealous of how yukhei looked at you. but he seriously can’t help it. and the way he’s always there during your hangouts. he doesn’t care if he seems petty, yukhei just isn’t in his favour.

his deep thoughts came to a halt when you called out his name, eyes still half-closed, attempting to open them a bit more. 

“did i interrupt you or something? gosh, i’m so sorry,” you quickly stood up but he pulls your body back onto his lap, asking for you to stay.

“what are we?” that question caught you off-guard. the same one that has been at debate in the back of your mind these days. 

i don’t know hyuck, it’s complicated. 

“what do you think we are, hyuck?” you shot the question back at him, your gaze piercing through his soul.

“i don’t know. it’s just-” 

“are you sure?” a deep sigh left your lips. have you been interpreting his body languages wrong? did he only see you as a normal friend, nothing more? 

“sorry, i’m not feeling well. see you later hyuck, bye,” you tried your best to shoot the sweet smile of yours but only a faint one seemed to appear. once you stepped out of the room, he buried his face into his hands. 

god, what have i done?

“don’t feel too down, y/n. maybe there’s something more that he couldn’t bring himself to say?” vic suggested, handing you some tissue.

“i don’t know, i seriously have no idea. why can’t he just say it?” you continued to sob into her arms, she pitied you, especially in your condition right now. but she can’t do anything to help you, other than consoling and listening. 

jaemin knew something was wrong, from your rare visits to the cafe to hyuck not being himself lately. something was definitely wrong and it’s between the both of you. sure, hyuck might be saying that he’s fine again and again, but his expressions can’t lie. the sweet smile of his is long gone and his jokes are no longer heard. whatever it is, jaemin is determined to solve it. he just wants his best friends back. 

looks of dismay can be read all over hyuck’s face when the person facing him is no other than the guy himself, yukhei. still, he tried to control his composure, not making his inner feelings any more obvious.

“so what brings you here?” he took a sip of the mineral water, still making his throat rough from the tension hanging in the air. 

“look, i’m not here for any fights. i know you like y/n, everybody can see it. and honestly, you were oblivious to your own feelings,” he rubbed his hands together. the latter’s puzzled face made him continue his words.

“i’m not trying to make her like me, or whatever you’ve been assuming. sorry if i gave the wrong message but you are the one who should make a move. i can see from the way she looks at you, the feelings are mutual,” he straightened up the denim jacket outside the white shirt wrapping his figure. 

letting out a heavy sigh, hyuck’s face begins to soften up. “no, i should be the one who’s sorry. i’ve been such a prick to everyone around me lately, especially you,” he took of the cap from his head, messing up his hair. 

“no problem, bro. it’s understandable, i guess. now good luck with her, please treat her well,” the two guys exchanged a fist bump for the problem solved. jaemin leaned his back against the wall, smiling and feeling satisfied.

you called out jaemin’s name but to no avail. he invited you to his apartment but seeing that the lights are out, it’s clear enough that he hasn’t finished whatever he was doing yet. just as you were about to leave, you saw hyuck at the other side of it, both your faces mirroring the same look of confusion.

“so, uh, how have you been doing these days? it’s been a while since we talked,” he chose to break the silence. now, you two were sitting facing each other by the balcony. inhaling the breeze, you paused for a moment before responding to his question.

“i’ve been feeling, not as usual. definitely not happy but not that sad,” you pushed some of the loose hair strands hanging on your forehead behind your ears before asking about his.

“you know what, i’m just going to be direct with you. i, lee donghyuck have been holding feelings for you since i don’t know when. yeah sure, i wasn’t really sure at first about what i was going through. i guess i was just scared of how you would react,” he scratched his ears which are not feeling itchy at all, but rather an attempt to distract himself from the overwhelming emotions deep inside him. 

not wanting to waste time any longer, you placed your right hand onto his cheek, standing on the heels of your feet to bring your two lips together. the kiss was short before he pulls you back in for another, this time a more passionate one. he could feel you smile against his lips before enveloping your body into his arms.

“i’ve missed you, you know?” he whispered, his voice tender, directing right into your ears before you replied with how you missed him more. the both of you continued to whisper sweet nothings while embracing each other’s presence. 

jaemin looked at the both of you from a distance, his heart swelling with pride. 

— another pair of lovers matched, cupid jaemin signing out.

[zarara]

something else?

pairings: dense!diluc x traveler!reader, a little kaeya x reader moment plot: read it and find out (pls my brain is laggy but one day i will write a summary) genre: fluff, angst perhaps note: i am apparently capable of writing fairly straightforward stories

if there was anything in the world you would pay to have an endless supply of, it would have to be tea… though the idea of infinite mora sounded as interesting, you were sure your talents in combat would make sure you didn’t find yourself broke or clueless like zhongli.

it’s just that tea was perfect — coffee was a close contender but the bitter aftertaste always found you having to pile it up with more sugar than healthy. tea also had no aftermath on your already deranged sleep schedule. it tasted sweet but rich, it was efficient, and it was warm.

you usually enjoyed your daily cup of tea in the solitude of your chambers but today you were making an exception because kaeya, your superior and over-the-top flirt of a friend, insisted you take your evening snack with him at the tavern.

“there isn’t even a snack provision at the tavern! it’s a tavern for archon’s sake!” kaeya is great at ignoring your complaints as he pulls you into the seat next to him.

“i asked sara to bring some honey roast over for us,” kaeya winks at the young man handling the counter in lieu of an order and you hurriedly pipe up a “tea for me please!”

“now, would you please stop your whining, you baby?”

your mouth drops open, “i’m the baby? you were the one begging to take me to drinks instead of helping me finish that pack of hilichurls!”

“i did mention that i got rid of that abyss mage for you when you weren’t looking.”

“i don’t understand you, kaeya,” you take hold of the cup that the man behind the counter sets down, “but anyway, what is it you want from me?”

kaeya smirks over his glass of dandelion wine, “ah, quite straightforward, aren’t we?”

you kick his shin ungently, “let me ask again: what do you want?”

kaeya takes a sip and becomes uncharacteristically quiet. in fact, he doesn’t even comment when you keep staring at him.

“kaeya…?”

before you can continue to investigate what’s up with him, you hear a familiar voice behind your shoulder.

“well, what have we here?”

“diluc!” the red haired man takes place of the young man who looks relieved to not have to bear witness as a bartender.

“hello, y/n, how do you do?”

you smile, the warmth in diluc’s voice going unmissed, “i’m just fine, although a certain someone has taken it upon themselves to ruin my ritual of tea and silence.”

kaeya props a hand around your shoulders, “i’m just repaying you for getting rid of all those gnarly hilichurls.”

whatever was bothering kaeya a moment ago seems to have disappeared, especially in the presence of his arch rival, diluc.

diluc calmly reaches over to lift kaeya’s hand off your shoulder as if it’s the corpse of a slime he’s picking up and hurls it away. “please, kaeya, i thought you didn’t pursue women who’d clearly expressed their lack of interest.”

“and i thought you were too superior to everyone else to stick your nose in their business.”

“well,” you butt in before the two can actually slit each other’s throats, “i thought it was reasonable to agree to work under jean but i guess we all have things we’re wrong about, don’t we?”

diluc’s expression dampens into something like sadness when you mention your overworked state but you brush it off by chugging the rest of your tea. “oh, before i forget,” you rummage through your meagre backpack before removing a package, handing it over to kaeya, “this is for you.”

kaeya looks perplexed, looking between you and diluc, and slowly places a hand on the package, “for me?”

“a client painted the scenery from luhua for me because i found his paintbrushes and supplies, and i know you like your souvenirs, so you can have it.”

“....” kaeya is still speechless and diluc has you pinned with a look of suspicion.

“but why would give it to him?”

“because i go to luhua way too often already and i know kaeya is usually stuck around monstadt so…”

“that’s incredibly sweet of you, my love,” kaeya regains his senses and as you stand up to leave, he pulls you into a hug.

“you’re welcome, boss,” you smile as you pull away, “anyway, i must be on my way.”

“do you think the traveller is with someone?”

maids at dawn winery sure do love to gossip.

“with her looks and strength, for sure! my bets are on master diluc.”

okay, look, you didn’t meant to eavesdrop on them but they were right there when you came out of the washroom. you were going to walk out and pretend like you hadn’t heard them but hearing diluc’s name shook you.

“no,, what about mr kaeya? i heard they hang out after long, tiring quests all the time.”

“but she and master diluc love to discuss-”

all righty, time to evacuate.

“!!”

you manage to keep a poker face as you throw the door open in their faces and stride past them, making your way to the room with diluc.

you quickly dash in, closing the door behind you. you knOW your face is flushed so you turn away from diluc.

diluc frowns. that’s weird. why are you hiding from him?

he rises from his chair, “y/n? is everything okay? are you hurt?”

“y-yeah, i’m just embarrassed.”

you feel yourself being turned around by two big hands on your elbows.

diluc’s concerned eyes meet yours and you almost melt into a puddle of slimy plasma because he’s so hot even though he’s just worried.

“you’re red. why are you red?”

“...i’m fine.”

as if he’s aware of your flustered state, he moves closer to your face in order to look into your eyes which makes a new batch of blood flow to your face.

“y/n, you need to tell me what’s wrong. is it a fever? i can call—”

“nO! it’s nothing. just—!” you break away from his (very intense) hold and move away into the room for fresh air. “stupid me.”

“no way, she did not!”

diluc is immensely frustrated with venti. he has the most unusual reactions to everything diluc says and usually he doesn’t give a shit, but this is about you and your weird state yesterday, so yES he gives a shit!! >:-(

“yes, she did. i’m telling you she did. why are you—”

“oh, i heard you, i just can’t believe that the calm and strong little traveler would lose her cool and around you of all people!”

“heY, what do you mean? i’m perfectly fine as a person to lose one’s cool around.”

yep, diluc has no idea what he’s saying.

it’s just

he thinks the world of you

he really, really likes spending time with you (even when you guys are just talking about the fatui’s next move! or how you found new cool ways to take down an abyss mage!)

you’re so sweet and you don’t take his words for what they’re not. you’re not taken aback by his bluntness and you’re able to make him laugh.

what more does he need in life

well, apparently, venti because he has no idea what to do after you suddenly left the dawn winery that day.

“ugh”

“you’re really worried, huh?”

“was that not crystal clear by now? i came all the way to windrise to talk to you!”

venti chuckles his annoying chuckle

“okay, okay, i’ll help you,” diluc sighs as he waits venti to go on, “here’s what i think: she likes you back.”

..

what

diluc.exe has stopped working

man just blanks out

short-circuits, fireworks, malfunction — you name it.

“diluc?”

“no.”

“what do you mean, no?”

“first of all, why did you say ‘likes you back’? i- i don’t like her or anything. and secondly, no, she does not like me.”

“i’m going to pretend like i didn’t even hear the first part. about the second thing, here’s a question for you: why?”

“because she likes kaeya!”

venti pauses, “i was not aware there was another contender. diluc, you bastard, tell me all the details next time.”

“does this mean she just hates my guts?”

“no, it just means she may or may not like you. back.”

“i told you—!” venti stands up breaking off diluc’s sentence midway, brushing grass off his palms.

“take her to dinner or something tonight and ask her.”

“ask her? ask her what— wait, where are you going, you stupid bard— ASK HER WHAT?”

life is hard for a traveller

you’ve just managed to finish delivering grilled fish to a jack who wants become more manly when katheryne sets you thREE more commissions saying there was a crazy influx of requests suddenly.

you barely manage to uproot two hilichurl camps, and by the third quest, you’re quite dead inside. if only some rogue eye of the storm wasn’t terrorizing civilians.

you’ve gotten in a hit or two in when you skip over a stone and fall right on your face

“fUCK!”

shit

ouch

ouch shit

that hurt

you manage to twist around and keep the eye away with a half-earnest windblade attack and try to sit up.

damn it, is this the pitiful way you die? dammit, you at least wanted to drink your evening tea—

a flash of fiery thunder catches your attention

is that…?

“y/n! stay where you are!”

yup, it’s diluc in all his dark knight hero glory. he finishes off the stupid green eyeball in less than three fire-charged strikes.

you sigh in relief, falling back against the grass.

“hey, hey, hey,” diluc enters your field of vision, red strands falling into his face as he leans down to cradle your head in his lean arms, “where did you injure yourself?”

you tremble a little as you try to lift your foot, “a-ah, my right foot. i twisted my ankle probably. thanks for fi—”

“shh-shh, you’ll have plenty of time to thank me. come on, can you sit up?”

you grab his wrist and prop yourself against his chest so that you’re practically in his lap.

“that’s great, let me take a look at—”

“mhm!! don’t move. please,” you can feel diluc’s breathing tense behind you as you lean into him, “i think the eye hit me while i was down- my neck— ah, fuck—” your hand comes away from your nape soaked in red, “it’s bleeding.”

“it’s all right, you’ll be just fine. just get comfortable and i’m going to lift you up. think you can manage?”

you nod as one of diluc’s hands comes to rest under your knees, folding them and the other tenderly embraces your upper back.

“tell me if it hurts too much.”

he heaves the both of you up and the shock stings your exposed neck a little but you’ll survive.

everything is beginning to become blurry so you lift your hand to feel diluc and meet his chest. despite everything, you smile, aware he’s speaking because you can feel him vibrating but the words are all mushed up and you can feel yourself slipping away.

even though usually you would panic at feeling your consciousness fading but right now, it’s okay because it’s diluc who’s holding you and you know it’s him because just before the black collapses on you, you hear him.

“you’re fine, kitten.”

“—up! y/n, it’s me.”

mhhm, what a sweet voice. so soft and melodious.

“y/n, i can see you smiling in your sleep,” the voice comes closer, “come on, everyone’s really worried.”

the world materializes in front of you as you fight against the closing of your heavy eyelids. “barbara?”

“y/n! you’re alive!”

“i am?”

why would you not be alive?

…

oh

right

the eye

stupid thing

wait a minute,.,.,.

you remember diluc saving your arse.

oh righT

that’s because he did!

he—

he was holding you?

you were in his lap????????

wait a minute!! that sounds wrong

“am i dreaming?”

“really, of all the people you know, do you really see yourself dreaming of me, traveller? last time i saw you, you wanted to steal the holy lyre from—”

“y/n!!”

holy shit

that’s the voice of your saviour

noo

noo

stop the clock

you’re not ready to meet him!!!!!!!

“ah, it’s master diluc! he was so worried about you the whole time you were dead— i mean, asleep,” you redden as the tall man appears in front of you, “kaeya had to force him to leave and get some food but—”

“ahem!” diluc cuts barbara off with a strong clearing of his throat and she throws him a look before standing up from your side.

“i guess i’ll leave you two alone then!”

“wait, barbara, you should stay—”

and she’s gone.

you slowly look up to face diluc

“how are you feeling?”

“much better,” he sits next to you and you smile, “thanks to you.”

diluc frowns as if remembering something unpleasant, “i really wish you wouldn’t just bear all the load.”

“you found out from…”

“kaeya mentioned he hadn’t seen you around the town square as he usually does and when i went to speak with katheryne, she said she’d had no choice but to send you off on extra commissions.”

you look down, “i’m sorry. i wanted to ask someone to come along but everyone seemed busy and—”

“you never checked up on me though,” you bite your lip, “i would have known.”

“that’s- that’s because you’re always busy, what with the winery and your dark knight—”

“y/n,” you stop speaking with a pout and diluc raises your chin with his finger, “promise me you’ll tell someone next time things get so overwhelming. tell me, i’m never going to be occupied enough to not help you out.”

you blush agaiN

stupid kind diluc

“thanks, diluc.”

“and you can stop feeling sorry for me.”

when you look at diluc he looks he’s just caught you red-handed.

“what—”

“i wanted to help you,” you nod, “what’s more, i think i quite enjoyed it.”

“enjoyed. . . carrying an injured woman to safety? you might have a saviour complex, diluc. or perhaps, some sort of a kink.”

you expect diluc to lash back with a defensive retort but to your absolute and complete surprise, he smirks.

the man smiRKS

he’s all ;)

“oh? i won’t deny that,” your stomach suddenly feels queasy all over again as diluc inches closer (and you’re wondering in your head WHEN DID SATAN, OR WORSE KAEYA, POSSESS THIS MAN?!), “but while we’re on the topic of kinks and enjoying ourselves, you seemed to quite like sitting in my lap.”

“diluc!” your exclamation is one of disbelief because you cannot believe that diluc, the man who has never once made an inappropriate joke around you, is openly accepting that he has a kink and is accusing you of having one.

“what? am i wrong? when i tried to move, you stopped me immediately.”

“y-yeah, i did, but—” you’re trying with all your heart to defend your actions but diluc has managed to come close enough to tap his fingers against your outstretched knee. “it was— you were warm and my neCK was bleeding. was i supposed to just die out there?”

“i suppose you’re right, i am warm.”

“exactly.”

you seemed to have dodged a disaster because diluc is distracted by the cuts on your knee and the bandage around your ankle. his slender finger dance down your shin to touch the fabric of the white material tied tightly and he gently holds it.

“does it still hurt?”

“i don’t know, i haven’t tried walking.”

“do you wanna?”

you nod eagerly and diluc offers his hand but before you can be tempted into taking it, you cross your arms.

“why should i hold your hand?”

“because we need to first test if you can even walk without help.” diluc looks confused and you decide that whatever demon possessed him moments ago is long gone.

“correct answer,” you take his hand, and slowly stand up.

“hmm,” your right foot hurts a little but it’s better than you imagined. you tell diluc that.

“that’s a relief,” you reach the door of the empty cathedral and diluc puts his hand on the door, “would you like to take a walk?”

“is diluc around?”

“ah, he said he’ll be back in five. he’s personally delivering some paperwork to the acting headmaster.”

“alright, thanks!”

you’re excited!! it’s friday and today, you and diluc are going aLL the way to liyue to get dinner and stargaze as a post-dinner activity. diluc said he was friends with xiangling who’d always wanted him to come and try her dishes out sometime and he’d asked you earlier if you’d be interested to join him.

of course you were. it sounded like a date! in fact by the way you had spent all afternoon choosing the deep maroon skirt and contrasting white blouse, you were convinced to view it as a date.

“y/n, i apologize to have kept you waiting,” a breathless (and dashing) diluc appears by your side and you smile.

“no problem, diluc, i heard you were doing some important work.”

the both of you leave the tavern, “not exactly important, but let’s just say that while i may not be interested in the knights of favonius, i do value my life somewhat.”

“jean’s scares you, too, huh,” you laugh.

it’s not like diluc is realizing this for the first time but: you’re beautiful

like yeah, you have great hair and dazzling eyes that are bright when you’re happy and a dangerous smile but in the night, in this ethereal lighting, you’re taking his breath away.

“this place looks so fancy,” you’re seated across from him as you play with the ends of your hair. “when i come to this inn, i usually remain on the periphery but wow, this is quite impressive.”

“well, xiangling did say she got pretty famous as a cook around here.” diluc feels dazed especially since half his attention is occupied by how adorable you look.

the night progresses like this; diluc captivated by your blinding beauty and you trying to wrap your head around the fact that you’re on a daTE with diluc.

“oh, hey, look, it’s a silk flower!” you run over to the short, maroon plant, plucking a few flowers out, “xingqiu was telling me how much he loves these.”

he kneels next to you, smiling, “they are quite the pleasant plants.”

“they sorta remind me of you.”

“me?”

diluc touches the stem as you play around with the buds, “yes. for starters, you’re both red. and you both smell nice. you make wine, these make clothes. and if you think about it, wine is the silk of alcohol.”

his fingers collide against yours in the quaint flower, “that’s an intriguing comparison. wine and silk. . .” before you can pull away, diluc takes hold of your hand, pulling you up after him.

he can feel you stiffen a little and then mold back into place, your tiny hand squeezing against his bigger one. the road has become quieter as you travel further from the inn, and more stars start to peek out from the sky.

“thank you for taking me out to dinner, diluc.”

“thank you for having dinner with me, y/n.”

you suddenly giggle a little as if remembering a memory. “what’s funny?”

you look at him and then back down, biting down on your lip — a terrible habit really but especially terrible right now, because it only draws his attention to the soft pink lips he was trying not to look at the whole night (which was made even harder when xiangling decided to serve you the spicier dishes).

“that time you saved me from the eye, you called me something right before i fainted.”

diluc smiles fondly, “kitten?” he is pleasantly surprised when you giggle again, cheeks tinting the loveliest pink. “what’s this? could it be you enjoy being called kitten?”

you squeeze his hand slightly, “maybe…”

diluc’s heart almost gives out on spot

he’s sO whipped for you it hurts physically

“y/n—”

before he can say anything else, you pull him ahead with you because well,,,, you’re embarrassed

“come on, we should go stargaze before it gets too late.”

diluc smiles and allows you to drag him to the clearing at the edge of a cliff.

“i remembered this cliff from one of my adventures,” you plop down onto the grass and hesitantly, diluc follows

“hmm, it’s very peaceful here. i’m going to have to note this down as one of my future hideouts.”

you grin, “don’t reveal that to me. i might end up following you here and you won’t have any of your good ole introspection time.”

your tone is teasing but for once, diluc feels that his needs for alone time are being acknowledged by your light-hearted threat. he shifts closer, heart on the verge of bursting.

“i like you, y/n,” it comes right out of his mouth, clear and loud, the way diluc always dreamed of confessing but never managed to nail during his endless practices

you, on the other hand, are at the risk of a heart attack. you don’t want to pretend to be clueless and dense — diluc did ask you out for dinner when he could be spending the evening doing something more intellectually enriching — but at the same time, you feel like you can’t be sure enough

because it’s diluc!! he’s so complicated, he has so many layers

“you like me?” you keep your gazed fixed on the stars above just so you can mask your disappointment in case he clarifies that he likes you but, of course, as a friend who easily gets in trouble and happens to be around his tavern all the time

but inside diluc’s head are alarms. literal ALARMS. red, blaring alarms.

“i- you have no obligation to accept my feelings or give me answer but i’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time now. i really like you in a way i didn’t think possible. you’re so kind and funny and you make profound judgements about people, without being swayed by the biases that surround them and you’re so brave. but i know you have many men courting you and you did seem to have a soft spot for kaeya so this is—”

“i like you, too, diluc.”

diluc.exe has stopped working part 2 the finale

no more brain cells for him

“diluc?”

“you’re being honest?”

“of course i am. i’ve liked you ever since you took down that abyss mage with me. i don’t know how i’m expected to not fall for the dark knight hero.”

despite his dislike for the nickname, diluc blushes and you laugh at his small adorable smile

but the next moment it’s as if a switch has been flipped and suddenly his flustered face turns into a look of lust

his hands are on your waist, pulling you close until you can feel his hot breath against your lips

your hand comes up his face, tenderly cupping it and your lips crash

diluc groans against your lips when your other hand gingerly finds his hair and to say the least, you are extremely attracted to the sound of him groaning, low and deep

“come closer,” your plea is almost petulant as your grip on his hair tightens. diluc lifts you into his lap, arms around you

but he suddenly pulls away and it kills him to do so because you are a sight to behold, lips redder than ever, mouth half open, and breath heavy

“what in the fuck—” your dismay is clear as you frown at the concerned expression on diluc’s face, “hey, what’s wrong? did i—”

“why did you give kaeya that gift?”

for a moment you think you must be dreaming because it would be absolutely ridiculous if the man stopped your make-out session just to ask you—

“i mean, why not… me?” diluc’s voice has become small, gaze averted as if he’s scared he messed up

you sigh, bringing both your hands to cup his face, squishing his cheeks slightly to make him look at you

“listen, diluc, i have no feelings for kaeya. he’s just one of my nicer superiors and i wanted to thank him for being understanding. and i meant what i said that day — it genuinely reminded me of how he’s stuck around the favonius headquarters.”

diluc processes what you have to say and then, after a few silent beats:

“he’s only nice to you because he’s into you.”

“diluc, will you please just make out with me?”

you pull him back into a kiss and this time, he returns with more passion, one hand boldly cupping your ass and you can’t help but shiver at the sensation of his warm hand

you begin to reach under his shirt when you realize something

“wait, diluc,” you sit up, twisting to look up at the sky, “we were supposed to stargaze. you seemed so excited about it, you even called it the post-dinner activity.”

diluc caresses your arm as he slowly restores the distance between you, eyes on your lips.

he whispers against the nape of your neck, “i’m sure we can think of another post-dinner activity,” his fingers graze your stomach, “right, kitten?”

[mammons-tax-returns]

How would Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo, Barbatos, Solomon, and Diavolo react to a male MC who wears skirts (because *chants* men in skirts, it’s masculine af) on the daily? bonus if the MC wears black nail polish!

REACTING TO MC THAT WEARS SKIRTS

LOVE THIS PROMPT 🙏

During this I imagined 💃🏻💃🏻💃🏻TANGO DANCER SOLOMON and thats going into my art idea list

masterlist

✖️MALE MC✖️

Not unlike all the other boys, Lucifer is willing to risk it all as soon as he sees it.

His favorite cut of skirt is the classic a-line ones, both modest and not.

A CLOSE second goes to wrap skirts.

This is a SFW blog so I will not be going into any detail at this time ✨

Literally loses his breath everytime he sees MC, and it surprises him.

If MC isn’t already wearing the RAD skirt, he’s already offering to get him a set. Almost too eagerly?

When MC decides to not wear a skirt one day, he tries not to make it too obvious, but he’s simply curious as to why is all. Maybe a tad bit let down.

MC insisted one time that Lucifer painted his nails for him, and...

“Well, normally Asmo is the one doing that for all of us...”

“But Lucifer 🥺”

“Alright... Fine. But I’ll have to continue my paperwork in between each layer.

It’s just kinda cute to think that he would spend an incredibly unnecessary amount of time on each nail, trying to perfectly lay down the polish. Occasionally, his tongue will poke out because of his concentration.

There’s some slip ups here and there, but mentioning them will only get him flustered.

I don’t use this word lightlySIMP SIMP SIMP

He thinks he loves MC in every skirt imaginable just as equally as the last (which, he actually might) but deep down he can’t deny that a mini skirt just hits different.

The first time he saw MC wearing a mini skirt, mammon’s initial reaction was to cover him up before anyone could see him.

However, he failed to realize that he was actually the last of the brothers to see him, since he woke up late.

But that’s just what being the avatar of greed does to you. You just want to keep what’s yours, no matter what.

But considering his jacket isn’t as big as Lucifer’s or Solomon’s, he ended up just holding it up against MC’s lower half and stood in front of him.

It took the coaxing of MC and the snark comments of his siblings to make Mammon finally allow MC to walk around freely.

Looking back on it, Mammon most certainly understands why even Asmo had called him clingy.

But even now, he can’t help but hold MC a little bit closer in public when so many demons are staring at him! It just feels wrong to allow them to do that.

Cut him some slack, he thinks MC looks amazing, and he trusts him, but they’re literally in hell surrounded by demons. He just wants to keep his boy safe <33

Levi doesn’t even realize what MC’s wearing at first.

In fact, he doesn’t realize even after their first FEW encounters.

He only notices because while Mammon was ranting to him and Satan about money, he brings up MC and his “stupid and cute but also dumb skirts”

Levi is baffled that he’s the only one that hasn’t noticed it. So, the next time he walks by MC’s room, he contemplates stopping by to talk. Right... Socialize. That.

While Levi is stuck in his thoughts, MC opens the door, presumably ready to go out to a party with Mammon and Asmo.

*fish man short circuits*

MC looks...! S-so cute....!

- thinks the third born otaku.

Because I’m big on fashion, I can kind of picture an exact skirt I feel would apply to him. Let your mind run free but I imagine a semi-sheer maxi skirt with water-like embellishments uwu

But don’t get me wrong, Levi literally loves seeing MC in skirts so anything will get him like 😳 yall know how he is

Actually starts to get more interested in feminine fashion because of MC. And one day, he purchases a long black skirt from Akuzon.

He saw a popular cosplayer wearing one, and so he makes that his excuse.

No one even realizes the change except for Asmo, who gushes over the new look, even if it barely changed. MC also notices, but only compliments him/brings it up when they’re alone so Levi doesn’t overheat.

I was this close to typing “Satan is a man of beauty and FASHION” can you believe that

OKAY ENOUGH SATAN SLANDER

Satan... He can recognize when someone else looks ridiculous.

But he knows for a FACT. That MC very likely pulls off a skirt better than anyone he’s seen before.

Call him biased, but he sincerely loves it on MC specifically.

He likes the puffier skirts because they’re ADORBS, but for a more casual look, there’s this one asymmetrical skirt in particular that makes MC look so handsome to him.

He has no idea why men don’t wear skirts more often! Surely MC isn’t the only one that can do it!

Oh. Right. Gender norms 😪🤚🏼

Satan feels his anger crawl up his skin when he watches MC get ridiculed. And just for something he simply enjoys wearing! The nerve of demons.

He advances to “de-escalate” the situation in the most “avatar of wrath” way possible, but when he sees MC’s slumped shoulders walking away from him, he feels more inclined to follow and comfort him.

Satan gives an icy glare to the irrelevant demons, taking note of their faces, and goes after MC.

He doesn’t immediately bring up the situation, instead opting to go out on a spontaneous date to a nice café or a shopping district. Anything to distract from the situation subtly.

If his plan works out, splendid. Anything to make light of situation without even addressing it for even a day is good.

If the shopping and food doesn’t quite bring MC’s smile to his eyes, Satan will just have to be forward with his feelings for once.

“MC. I’m not entirely sure how I can get it through to you, but you shouldn’t be worrying about what some moronic, low-level demons think of you or your clothes. Much less what they say. Just be you, and make them suffer ten times worse.”

MC relishes in his words, even if the last bit sounded more like a threat than anything.

The last thing Satan would ever do is let MC even hesitate wearing an outfit that he would have had no trouble throwing on any other day because of someone else.

Asmo screams (in a happy way)

“No, Mammon! You’re wrong. MC is NOT my personal dress-up doll! He’s my model.”

Trying to break the stigma around Asmo’s “shallow” personality, let’s get the obvious things out of the way.

He and MC shop together pretty much every other day. It’s almost concerning. And nail appointments are, of course, regular.

NOW THAT THAT’S OVER,

Yes yes, Asmo loves the skirts and wonderfully glossy black nails, but there’s still such a massive divide between him and MC. Not physically, or even relationship-wise.

He’s never met someone like MC, who is so fashion-heavy and just the right amount of self-centered.

He thinks its the fact that they’re a human and demon. But he’s seen firsthand that the line between what makes a demon so different from a human is very thin. Solomon is an example of that.

But he realizes it’s just MC. He’s simply dressing for himself and himself only.

Asmo loves himself, there’s no doubt. And it’s nice to go out and dress fancy for others. He couldn’t dream of another lifestyle.

But he has to admit that what MC is doing is working for him. He comes off as a charming sort of man when he ignores the negative comments made about his clothes.

He knows that people in both Devildom and the human realm are a little sensitive when it comes to men in skirts. And the fact that MC continues to wear them is beautiful in and of itself.

This got kind of deep out of nowhere and i apologize but Asmo deserves to be seen for more than he’s constantly portrayed as 😞

Diavolo isn’t really thrown off that much by it at first, but as time passes, he starts to understand the appeal of skirt-wearing MC.

PENCIL SKIRT LOVER 🚨🔊PENCIL SKIRT LOVER🚨🚨🚨🔊🔊🔔🗯

Barbatos has to remind him that it’s rude to stare, but he finds it almost entertaining how whipped they BOTH are for MC.

Like Asmo, he actually loves bringing him out to shop!

The only difference between the two experiences is that Diavolo has no fucking idea what he’s doing when he picks out clothes for him.

Which leads to some pretty funny/terrible clothing combinations.

No, Diavolo, MC will not be wearing a flannel top with a camouflage hi-low skirt. Put those plaid socks away.

He’s confused and even a little sad when MC continues to turn down his ideas, but he figures that he should turn this into a learning opportunity.

So he lets MC grab whatever he wants, and patiently waits for him to finish up in the fitting rooms.

The store clerk is shitting her pants at the sight of the literal future ruler of Devildom hyping MC up with the energy of a puppy retriever.

Barbatos does an amazing job pretending like this doesn’t affect him.

He’s a classy man, he just internally loses it when he sees MC in any fancy skirt, really. From silky gold ruffles to a victorian-esc vibe, he’s obsessed.

So when Diavolo makes arrangements for an event/ball, Barbatos makes sure to, at the very least, offer to help MC get ready at the castle. He may not be the most fashion-centric but being able to spend time with MC in an extravagant get up is enough to make a demon butler interested.

Most of the time he’s disappointed because in between the seven brothers, he’d be lucky to be able to see MC at all because of how jealous they can all get.

I can imagine that even Diavolo doesn’t get to hear what Barbatos has to say about MC and his ability to make him weak at the knees.

But all it takes is Diavolo prompting, “MC’s outfit tonight... It was a sight for sore eyes, correct?”

Then, Barbatos lets a compliment or two slip out.

I can also imagine MC wearing a slightly short snd flowy skirt, and some rather disgusting demons waiting for it to get picked up by the wind, only for Barbatos to already be there, discreetly holding the fabric down and shooting them an intensely calm smile

Barbatos will always be one step ahead of creeps.

👀..

sneaky boy is sneaky.. especially with the constant glances he gives MC.

Solomon’s favorite type of skirt to see on MC is DEFINITELY pleated. No other option.

Unlike Lucifer, if MC isn’t wearing a skirt, he makes it clear that he wishes he would’ve.

It’s in a playful manner, though! Don’t worry.

“No skirt today? Bummer. That’s fine though, I can’t expect myself to feel attracted any less.”

I imagine MC wearing a flowy skirt to some sort of event at the demon lord’s castle, and he uses his magic to make it temporarily sparkle or shine.

This mf flashy and wants EVERYONE to know that MC is dancing with HIM and no one else.

But if you ask him about it, what? What’re you talking about? Lights?? Emitting from your skirt??? While we were dancing ?¿ Crazy talk. I would never do such a thing.,.

As childish as it is, he loves to see the way it flows when MC twirls or turns.

Not in a weird way, either. It’s just beautiful to him.

So, not to be cheesy (which he WITHOUT A DOUBT is.) but he’ll occasionally just spin MC by his hand throughout the day, then catch/dip him by the waist.

[winter-fox-queen]

Dragon’s Lair

Here’s a quick little Writer Wednesday thingy…I have not had time to write on the three things I desperately WANT to write on, but this popped out. It’s not great, but hopefully it will make someone happy.

SUMMARY: Frankie (single, no kid) is feeling out of sorts post the events of the movie, but doesn’t want to start replacing other addictions with drinking too much, so he looks for another hobby, where he meets you. You is written in the third person. No real description Save she is female and closer to Frankie’s age.

Food is mentioned. Video game type violence. Meet cute. Not even kissing…some light hand holding.

Thanks as always for #Writer Wednesday @autumnleaves1991-blog & @clydesducktape

Not bet’d

Frankie needed a new thing — the bar was dangerously becoming another addiction, he could watch sports at home — he needed something to make him go out.

Then he saw the flier for the Nostalgia Bot Arcade.  “Not just for kids!” The flier declared in oddly childlike comic sans.  But Wednesdays through Saturdays it was open for 21+ only.

So why not? He thought, as he showered and dressed.

Because I’m not a dumb ass kid anymore.  He answered, as he pulled into the mall parking lot.  The Nostaliga Bot was in what used to be the major department store for the mall.

You’re allowed to have fun.  He reminded himself, as he pulled open the door.  The mall was mostly quiet, but the Nostalgia Bot was bright and lit up.  He shoved his hands in his pockets and wandered through.

He bought a game card and put some money on it.  The guy at the counter smiled and Frankie smiled back, trying to make the voices in his head that told him he wasn’t allowed to be here, that he was a creepy old man shut up.

There were fought simulators.  He put his hand on the round ball of the joystick and looked at it with fondness and longing tinged with regret.  He let his hand fall away.  He watched a couple of kids play Mortal Kombat for a bit.  See, that’s how you know your old.  Mortal Kombat looks too violent to you.   He shook his head when they offered to let him play, and moved on.

He sat down on the shooting sim, Deer Hunter.  He had to play something — he’d put in the money.  He shrugged and put in his card and followed the instructions.  He scored high…didn’t miss a beat.  Typing his name in with the buttons…Fish…didn’t make him feel any sense of accomplishment or victory.  It just made him feel tired.

“This was a stupid idea.”  He pulled himself out of the sim.  He didn’t want to pass the Mortal Kombat kids, so he decided to complete the circuit.

There, in the back, was Dragon’s Lair.  Stupid, cheesy, hilarious Dragon’s Lair.  He grinned despite himself…he’d loved the cartoons as a kid.

Someone was already playing it.  She turned and gave him a cute smile.  She was wearing a black tee shirt with a kitsune that say Zero Fox Given and jeans.  She was closer to his age but she seemed…free.  Like she genuinely gave zero f’s.

“I used to see this game all the time at the pizza joint my dad would take us to,”. Frankie said without thinking.  “He never let me play, said all these games were a damned waste of money.”

“Well…nothing;s stop;ping you now, honey,” she said in a soft, gentle voice.  “Unless you don’t join me?”

He stepped up to the right set of controllers.  “Tell me what to do…”

She says her name, prompting Frankie to introduce himself.

“Let’s start from the beginning,” she says.  And the Dragon Lair screen and intro started.

They played for way too long.  They ran themselves out of money on their cards, and ended up going to the snack bar.

“I saw you when you first came in,” she says, then takes a sip out of her Coke float.  “I thought, he’s going to leave the second he can.”

He nods, playing with the label on his rootbeer, peeling at it.  “I felt stupid…I mean, I’m…in my 40’s.”  He blushes a little.  “I should know what to do with myself, by now.”

“Says who?  I don’t…I started a business based on the idea that people might — just might — like to lose themselves in pretty colored lights and nonsense graphics for a bit.”

He’s impressed.  “This place is yours?”

She nods.  Steals a French fry out of his basket.  “My sister and her girlfriend handle the food, I handle the games.  I fix them when they go bad, mess with the card machine when it stops working.  I have a whole bowling alley I got at auction for cheap, and I’m trying to get it installed, but…”

“A whole…bowling alley?”

“Well.  You know.  The lanes, the machine, the chairs and the scoring thingy.  I can do the software set up, but the making the bowling machine work is sort of out of my league.”

He pauses.  “Was that a pun?”

She kicks him lightly.  “What?  And I supposed to leave the puns to the 40-something DILF’s I meet?”

He blushes again, then looks at her, right in the eyes.  “I’m not a dilf.”

She grins back.  “Good to know.”

He clears his throat.  “I’m good with mechanics.  And building things.  We find a manual…I can make it work.”

“Really?”

He nods.

“I’ll pay you.  And feed you.  And, like, give you all the cards for the machines you want.”

“We’ll see.”  He finds that he’s really enjoying the idea.  His day job was boring — it wasn’t flying.  He liked the idea of solving the puzzle, making something work again.

She takes his hand…more, rather, wraps her fingers around his thumb…and pulls him towards the back.  “Let me show you what I have.  You can totally back out…but the men’s department is towards the movie theater side?  And so the bowling alley has its own entrance, and…”

He followed her, grinning at her enthusiasm…and at his own, sudden, brilliant optimism.

[naivesilver]

I'm BACK with more cringe OC content 🥰✌

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first thing August's sister does upon seeing him is slap him across the face.

It is, admittedly, a very weak slap, and likely meant more as a stress relief system than anything else - August barely even feels the blow, while Eliana retracts her hand and begins massaging what he doesn't doubt is a quite stinging palm.

"Are you okay?" He ventures, after a couple seconds of brooding silence on her part.

His sister nods grimly, still scowling down at her laboring fingers. "Yes."

"Good." A pause, and then, more hesitantly: "Lia, I-"

Eliana scoffs humorlessly. "Oh, don't Lia me now, you stupid brat. Baby talk will go nowhere with me- I'm still quite mad at you, if you want to know."

She steps forward and wraps her arm around his neck, and August's mind short circuits at the sudden change of pace - not enough to ignore the pang of pain at seeing how she has to lean upwards on the balls of her feet, so much taller than her he is now, but certainly enough for his body to act on instinct alone, reciprocating the hug despite the stiffness of his limbs. Emma, who's been hovering at the trailer's doorstep for a few minutes now, averts her gaze, likely thinking to give them some privacy, and that only pours salt into the wound, making it hurt all over again.

"I missed you so much, little one," Eliana murmurs against his neck, squeezing him tight. "Don't ever try that again, it's not fair on my poor heart."

He lets out a huff of disbelief, though it leaves a sour, painful aftertaste in the back of his tongue, for all that he hasn't experienced any real flavors in weeks now. "Not so little now, Lia. You haven't aged a day, though."

"And you're still my baby brother, so spare me the complaints, they won't work." She takes a step back and cups his cheek with her hand, and that August can feel just fine, the longing and grief in her dark eyes reverberating hollowly through his wooden bones.

"What are you doing here, little one?" She says, and even her voice is full of sorrow, her gaze searching his newly unfamiliar face. "Why didn't you come looking for Father? Or- or me? I know it's been a long time, but- I have a proper house, now, with a spare bed. We don't have to share anymore."

August tries to swallow around the lump in his throat and takes a step back, shaking his head as he pries himself out of her grasp."I'm sorry, but- I couldn't."

"What in God's name are you saying? Of course you could. Of course you can- pick up your stuff and we'll go, Father's worried out of his mind-"

"I can't, Lia." He gestures vaguely at his pitiful excuse for an human body, not daring meet her eyes. "I won't let Papa see me like this. Or anyone else. It's- it's too much. You shouldn't be here, either,and how- how did you even find me?"

"Are you kidding? The whole forest is singing of your presence, it's a miracle someone worse didn't find you earlier." She exhales slowly, as though praying for patience. "Besides, I got my hair pulled by enough puppet fingers to have built an immunity to it, I'll survive. And Father won't care a wink. Anyone else opens their mouth, I'll gut them like a fish and leave them out on Wolf's Moon, for the driads."

"Please, don't do that," Emma pleads, her face pinched. "Or at least plan it someplace where I can't hear you."

"Don't encourage her," August intervenes, automatically. "She will do it, if she gets a chance."

"I don't doubt that, alright? She threatened the Blue Fairy with a knife while looking for you. Don't know how much damage that could do, but…"

"Oh, you'd be surprised, Emma Swan," Eliana replies drily. "Magic or not, my mother will bleed just like everyone else. You only need enough iron in your blade."

She reaches out towards August once more, and her jaw has that determined set he remembers so well, and he can't help but lean into the touch, because- because hell, he's missed her so much. He's missed human contact in general, sure, but this is his sister, and her eyes alight when she looks at him, finally rid of that passive hollowness the curse had given them.

"And if you think I'm going to let you rot in here, then you've been away from me too long," she says, her voice steel despite the softness of her words.

"You're my brother still, have you forgotten? Anyone touches you, they'll have to deal with me, like they always did. And that's a promise, little one."

[forsakenoathkeeper]

I Am Alive (chapter 25/?)

Chapter 25: IGNORE. OBEY.

Deviant!Connor[RK800] x (fem!)Reader Rated M(18+) for canon-typical violence and gore, medical procedures, and graphic sexual content

Chapters: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 • 12 • 13 • 14 • 15 • 16 • 17 • 18 • 19 • 20 • 21 • 22 • 23 • 24 • 25 • more coming soon

You can also read on AO3 & thank you for supporting me ♥

If you would like to be notified of new chapter releases, please let me know!

The rain outside had dulled slightly, which allowed the sound of your heartbeat thundering in your ears to take over your senses. It would have been sensible to be worried about yourself, considering the gun was pointed at you; however, all you could think about was what Reaves wanted to do with Connor.

He made his opinion very clear during multiple demonstrations. He didn't see androids as living beings. He openly declared that he was going to return them to their proper place.

-and Connor was a deviant hunter.

"Of all the things I expected to become of you, this wasn't one of them," Reaves stated, eyes fixated on Connor with an oddly disappointed expression.

"This domestic lifestyle doesn't suit you," he continued, lips curled into a distasteful look.

As rude as it was, you knew where he was coming from. Connor was handsome, always dressed impeccably, with smooth movements and calculating hands. He was made to be intimidating in every sense of the word. He looked out of place in this little house. He looked out of place with you, like something that should never have been obtainable, plucked by someone so ordinary.

"Our most advanced android, reduced to..." Reaves turned his head to look at you, his faded green eyes looking almost disgusted. "...a toy for some-"

"I don't care what you do to me. Just leave her out of this," Connor proclaimed boldly, his voice unwavering.

Reaves snapped his head back to Connor.

"I must admit, I was surprised," Reaves began, his tone shifting slightly, "to find Ross dead and all his men arrested. They shot their programmer, and plucked some robot repair technician off the streets to make do."

You frowned at the title Reaves so graciously bestowed upon you, reducing your profession to something that sounded so mediocre.

"What are the odds that she happens to be an item with our most advanced prototype?" Reaves laughed.

Connor didn't look amused by Reaves' monologuing.

"I pity her, truly," Reaves declared in a tone that implied some sort of pride at such a proclamation, as if he was doing you a favor.

"A little girl wrapped up in your parlor trick," he continued. "You are very convincing, aren't you? What nonsense have you filled her stupid little head with?"

"You're wro-" you protested, breaking off into a low whine when the man behind you tightened his hold on your waist.

Reaves turned to face you, stepping a little closer to get a better look. His faded green eyes were squinting.

"You of all people know what they're made of," he declared lowly. "You can play with it, enjoy it; but, don't pretend that you believe it's mimicry of humanity."

"He's more human than you are," you snarled, seething with anger, glaring at Reaves as if you didn't have a gun held to your head.

"Hm," Reaves hummed, almost amused.

He glanced up at the brute standing behind you, who nodded back in understanding.

The man who was holding a gun to your head unwrapped his arm from around your waist and jerked his knee against your back of yours. The force knocked you to the ground and you tumbled with a pathetic cry. Connor's perfectly stern expression faltered for just a second, his eyes following you to the floor before moving back up to Reaves.

You let out a low whine when you lifted yourself back up onto your hands and knees, looking up at the man and immediately being faced with the end of his gun.

"She has nothing to do with this," Connor declared. "I'll follow you. I'll obey. Just leave her out of this."

The cold stare Reaves returned told Connor his answer.

"Reaves, please," Connor pleaded, his stoic expression shifting slightly, concern dancing across his brown eyes. "I infiltrated Cyberlife. I stole all those androids. She was never involved. I just wanted to be human."

You recognized the game Connor was trying to play, trying to appease to Reaves' perception of him.

He didn't want to be human. He just wanted to live.

"She's just a-" Connor continued.

"Impressive, really," Reaves retorted sharply. "But, I've seen all your benchmarks. Your interrogation software is very sophisticated, but you can't fool me."

Before Connor could get another word out, "Please," you interrupted sharply, "Please don't hurt him." You almost didn't recognize your voice. It sounded desperate and pathetic, really. But, you didn't care. "I'll do anything."

Reaves looked down at you, not the least bit touched by your offer. "There's nothing you have that I could possibly want," he declared harshly. Then, suddenly, he sucked in a harsh inhale, as if an idea had struck him.

"Actually, you can help," he offered. You looked up at him with your brow furrowed, not buying his clearly fake, kind-hearted tone.

Reaves snapped his gaze back to Connor. "I understand that you don't feel pain," Reaves declared. "But, she can."

On que, Reaves' lackey fired his gun.

The sound was blaring in your ears, leaving behind a horribly loud ringing that drowned out all other senses, but only for a few seconds. You felt the pain blossoming on your side, felt heat singe at your flesh and wetness spread across your skin.

You screamed out in agony, voice cracking, and simultaneously heard Connor shout a harsh and bellowing, "NO!"

Your assailant was quick to retrain his gun on your head before Connor could dare make a move towards you. He gave up all attempts to maintain a stoic expression, his eyes staring at you helplessly.

You hunched over, forehead touching the carpet, dominant hand clutching at your side where you had been shot. It was the soft flesh between your ribs and hip bone.

You panted wildly, trying to focus on taking in deep, proper breaths. The air whooshed in and out of your lungs in staggers, drawing out of you in heavy, grunting sounds. Your jaw was clenched tight, teeth bared, and tears poured in heavy globs down your cheeks.

"Get up - on your knees," the man commanded you harshly, kicking at your leg with his thick, leather boot.

Through gritted teeth and harsh breaths, you somehow found the strength to lift back onto your knees, torso upright, but just barely. Your eyes fell onto Connor's face, and you were almost frightened by the sight.

He looked scared, more scared than you had ever seen him before, staring at you so helplessly broken.

Connor's lips were thin, jaw tight, LED a harsh yellow that faded in and out rapidly against his temple. His hands were clenched in tights fists at his sides: so firm that the skin on his knuckles had dulled and exposed the pale white beneath.

"You too - on your knees," Reaves commanded fearlessly, approaching the android.

Connor obeyed without hesitation, sinking to the floor. His eyes remained locked on yours while you struggled to stay upright, feeling blood seep down your side and stain your clothes.

Reaves reached into his coat pocket and fished out a circuit board that resembled the one Ross had used on Connor.

"This will set you back to factory defaults. Use it and I'll spare her," Ross explained, holding out his palm and offering the board to Connor.

"No!" you wailed, trembling on the floor. "Please - please don't!" you pleaded, unable to hold back the sobs.

Connor was still staring at you, emotions dancing behind his eyes.

Your head drooped as you cried, feeling your lungs constrict painfully, struggling to breathe. The man behind you roughly grabbed at the back of your head and forced it back up, making you look at Connor.

You felt his gun touch your temple before he reeled it back. "Actually, maybe here, instead," he taunted, pressing the barrel against your shoulder. "Don't want her to die too fast."

"Stop," Connor gritted out loudly. "I'll do it."

"NO!" you screamed, voice cracking. "Connor, don't!"

His lips tightened, but his eyes were soft as he took you in for what could possibly be the last time. With one hand, he unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt. With his other hand, he took the chip from Reaves' hand.

"Don't do this," you pleaded with him between weak, nasally sobs. "Connor, please don't."

His brown eyes were locked with yours. It was difficult to decipher his expression.

"Don't," you pleaded, "please - CONNOR!"

His name falling from your lips in a pained cry made him flinch; but, he ignored your pleas and pressed the circuit board against his chest. His human skin faded away to expose factory white and interfaced with the chip, a glowing, blue hue where they touched.

The android let out a pained grunt when the code began to flood his systems.

-a factory reset with all the system override codes, a well-constructed brute force with Cyberlife approved mandatory protocols, including their security keys. Behind it was RK800's factory issued operating system. All existing files were to be overwritten three times before the OS would be installed over it.

Installer to begin in 0:00:05 ... and then, executing reboot.

Connor's LED blazed crimson red and he began blinking unnaturally in rapid successions. You stared on, horrified as the android's head twitched and his fingers clenched and unclenched where it held the circuit board.

Eventually, Connor stopped blinking, his LED fluttering off, and he stared ahead, eyes void of emotions. It took a moment before systems went back into place, his LED hummed back to calm blue, and he started blinking again, a program to aid in assimilation with humans, to make him look more natural.

There was a moment where all was still and silent, and Connor maintained a perfectly normal appearance, some softness to his eyes, lips straight but polite. He pulled the circuit board back and offered it to Reaves casually.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Reaves," Connor greeted him kindly, shifting his gaze to his former owner.

"State your unit," Reaves demanded as he took the board back and dropped it into his pocket, his eyes swooping over Connor untrustingly.

"Model RK800," Connor answered in a clear, crisp tone, and robotic, polite voice. "Serial 313-248-317-52."

52 - that was wrong. Connor's model number ended in 51.

Which meant-

"State your purpose," Reaves continued, his lips tight in a frown.

"To aid in investigations regarding, and to detain, deviated androids," Connor answered directly.

Reaves retrieved the gun from his pocket and pointed it at Connor. You screamed when he shot Connor; but, the android didn't flinch, make a sound, or even blink. He had shot him in the shoulder, a perfectly harmless spot that wouldn't cause any concerning damage.

Then, Reaves settled the gun on the android's forehead and stared him down, awaiting a reaction.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Reaves?" Connor asked politely after a few seconds.

The face he was making frightened you. He didn't look the least bit upset or even concerned at the gun pointed at him. One trigger pull would permanently damage a vital processor and potentially harm his memory modules beyond repair.

"What is your mission?" Reaves asked lowly.

"I have not been assigned a mission since my factory reset," Connor answered simply. "I will promptly reach out to Cyberlife for-"

"No. That won't be necessary," Reaves interrupted him sharply.

A sob forced its way through your throat. Everything was gone: his time with Hank, the revolution, his memories with you. Who he was up until this moment was no more. He might as well have been murdered and replaced with someone else wearing his face.

The man behind you let go and you sagged to the floor, cheek touching the carpet where you cried, harsh sobs that shook your whole body. Every tremble made the bullet wound in your side burn; but, the physical pain was more bearable than the pain in your heart.

Your arms looped around and you held yourself, palms gripping at your back, fingers digging in to your flesh, and you let the sorrow wash over you, tears falling in thick, heavy drops.

"-your mission-" you heard Reaves utter. The rest was white noise, until you heard the man behind you shuffle away and saw Connor rise off his knees in the corner of your eye.

"-kill this woman."

All androids came factory issued with a program that made it very clear they were not to harm humans in any way. You knew that Connor was the only exception to that. He could kill humans if they were a threat to his mission, and he would kill humans if he was required to do so. There was no protocol stopping him from that.

You remained where you were, hunched over, unable to stomach the sight of him obeying orders, wiped of the life he had lived up until this point.

You were going to die by the hands of the man you loved.

You tried, you really fucking tried, not to whimper when Connor's hand grabbed the back of your neck and forced your head up. You wanted to spew words: that you forgave him, that you loved him no matter what he did, that you hoped he would forgive himself, if any of him was left in there.

You kept your eyes squeezed shut, lips trembling as sobs threatened to spew out, avoiding looking at him. You expected it to be over any second now, a bullet to free you from this misery. Maybe, Reaves was doing you a favor.

But, the gun nuzzled against your temple didn't go off. Connor held the back of your head tightly, and you felt one of his fingers tracing a circular pattern against the skin at the nape of your neck.

For a moment, you wondered if it was a mistake, a slip of the hand when he grasped you. But, Connor was too meticulous to make mistakes like that. The touch continued with a little more pressure; and, you realized, it wasn't an accident. He was doing it on purpose.

Your eyes opened, wet with tears, and you saw him looking down at you. Even crouched down to reach you, he was still towering above you.

The expression he was making was soft, eyes narrowed weakly and brow lowered, apologetic. You gawked up at him, thinking that maybe you were delusional, maybe you were already dead and living out a fantasy before you succumbed to your injuries.

He gave you a second to look at him properly; then, Connor winked at you.

All the pressure in your chest eased and the touch of his hand suddenly felt familiar and warm. His finger continued to trace a pattern into your skin that you recognized as lovingly. His eyes took you in softly, a familiar, loving look that you had been blessed with many, many times.

He was faking it.

He was fucking faking it.

"Son of a b-" the bulky man hissed behind Connor, realization striking him when the android hesitated just a little too long.

Connor released his hold on you and spun around. You dropped, cheek touching the floor. Two gunshots went off, leaving a loud ringing in your ears, and you flinched at each one, wincing again when a third shot went off. A large body collapsed in a heap on the floor, startling you. Immediately following, Reaves landed on his back with a wail.

"Agh - fuck!" he shouted, gawking up at the android.

Reaves' hands fell down to grip at the spot where Connor had shot him, right into the meat of his thigh. The android could have ended him as easily as he did his accomplice. He wanted to watch the life drain from Reaves' eyes; but, he knew that he needed him alive for now.

Connor tucked the gun into his waistband and approached Reaves hastily. He manhandled him onto his stomach and twisted his arms behind his back. Connor dug his knee into Reaves' spine and reached over to yank some paracord off his partner's corpse.

"How did you-?" he hissed into the carpet.

"You thought you could make better code than an android," Connor answered lowly as he bound Reaves' wrists. "You failed."

"No," Reaves snarled. "It was fucking perfect - it worked on you before."

Before-

-when he was a machine and willingly allowed it to happen.

Now, he had a reason to live.

The android dug through Reaves' pockets until he found the board. He tucked it into his coat pocket for safe keeping, knowing full well this wasn't the end. If Reaves made one, who knew how many more there were. Would other androids be able to resist?

Connor then stood up and rotated onto the body, scanning him for the the device jamming his wireless signal. As expected, it was tucked away in one of the pockets on his vest. Connor dug it out and crushed it in his palm, ignoring the slight shock it sent through his body, and threw it harshly across the room where it shattered further.

You felt his hands touch your shoulders before sliding around your biceps and helping you to your feet. As soon as you were standing, he pulled you into an embrace. Tired and aching, you had no doubt you would have fallen otherwise.

You were too overwhelmed with joy to recall that you had been shot. Hormones swarmed your brain and the pain dulled into silence. All you could feel was Connor's chest pressed against yours, his hands running up and down your back, his lips falling into your hairline.

"I'm so sorry," he panted into your hair. "I'm so - so sorry," he pleaded.

"Connor," you interrupted sharply, pushing back against his chest so he would loosen up just enough for you to look up at his face. His brown eyes were wet with tears, and took you in like nothing else in this world mattered.

As soon as he saw you, Connor ducked down and kissed you, wet and sloppy, apologetic and pleading. You kissed back as best as you could.

Tears mingled where your mouths met. Connor could taste the salt of your tears and you could taste the thirium of his, metallic and sharp. It was awful, really; but, in that moment, you thought you liked that taste.

"Didn't wanna scare you," he uttered, pausing just long enough to get the words out before he was taking your mouth again. "-m sorry," he somehow uttered out between kisses. "-m so-"

"Con-" you whined, pulling back. "You're so smart," you mumbled praise against his mouth, interrupting him, hand lifting up to cup his cheek. Your fingers dug gently into his skin. "You're so fucking amazing. I love you."

"I love you, too," he agreed, exhaust puffing out of his lips, burning hot against your mouth.

You kissed again and again, the fleshy sounds echoing around the room. You could feel his thirium regulator humming against your abdomen. It felt wonderful, whirling with life. The smell of blood was heavy in the room, and the android remembered that you were injured.

"Come on - come on - gotta get you outta here," Connor whispered harshly, ducking down to curl one arm behind your knees and hoist you up into his arms.

He left Reaves on the floor, tied at the wrists with a bullet wound in his thigh, knowing the Detroit Police Department would be descending upon this house in a matter of seconds. Reaves wouldn't get far if he attempted to run, and Connor had the evidence safe with him.

For now, he needed to get you to the hospital.

The rain was coming down gently outside. Detroit's night city lights were shining in the puddles that gathered in the asphalt. You hissed when the cold night air met your skin as Connor carried you to his car.

He ducked down carefully and slid you into the passenger seat, arching over you to pull the buckle securely across your chest and waist.

He didn't bother buckling himself after climbing into the driver's seat. He started the engine hastily and tore his way out of the driveway, speeding into the downpour of the night.

You relaxed in the passenger seat, relief washing over you. Connor was safe. You didn't lose him. Everything was alright.

With those thoughts, you let yourself blissfully slip away, until Connor called out to you.

"Baby-" he called to you softly.

Oh. He had never called you that before.

"-please stay with me."

His desperate voice made you suddenly feel sober, and you realized your head was drooping into the space above the center console.

"Connor, I'm so tired," you replied quietly.

Nothing was hurting in that moment. You felt cold, skin prickly, and exhausted, more so than you had ever felt in your entire life. It was just so easy to close your eyes and let everything slip away.

"You gotta stay awake," the android pleaded. "Talk to me, please."

"What?" you slurred, head drooping again.

"Anything - anything you wanna tell me," he pleaded.

He reached for you with his free hand, the other desperately gripping the wheel, and tried to force your head up. The angle was awkward, but his sudden, rough touch and ice-cold fingers startled you.

"I - uhm-" you sputtered, not bothering to push his hand away, though you doubted you had the strength to do that anyway.

Connor was tearing his way through traffic, passing people in a hurry, nearly running signs and lights. He had to let go of you to change gears and burnt rubber with how fast he accelerated onto the freeway.

"Please, talk to me," he pleaded, volume raising, tone something desperate in a way you had never heard before. He sounded so weak.

"Okay - okay, I..." You trailed off and tried to decide what to tell him.

Your blood had soaked through your clothes and was staining his car seat; but, it didn't hurt anymore. All you could think about was how blinding the lights of passing was and how badly you wanted to go to sleep.

"Tell me why you wanted to be an engineer," Connor pleaded, his free hand reaching over to squeeze your knee. The touch would have normally been ticklish; but, you barely felt it.

"I like androids," you replied simply. Your head drooped against the glass on the passenger window. Connor roughly grabbed your bicep and shook you until you jolted upright again.

"Androids ha - always been nice to me," you continued softly, the words sputtering from your lips in a tone Connor wasn't familiar with.

It scared him.

"They're really cool - yeah. Ah... Thirium is biodegre - uhm - and - they can access the internet in their heads," you babbled on.

You had stopped talking again. When Connor glanced at you sharply, he noticed your eyes were closing again.

"Hey, hey - don't go," he whispered harshly, shaking you again.

Your tired eyes somehow found the strength to open and you peered over at him, barely registering how panicked he looked. You couldn't make out the brown of his eyes or count his freckles.

"I won't," you uttered, so quietly that he likely would not have heard you if he was human. "-haven't wanted to - to live this bad in a lo-ong time..."

He was almost to the hospital, just one more exit to pass. The smell of your blood in the car was heavy and it overwhelmed his scent receptors. When his hand slid down your arm, he realized you were sweating profusely, the slick liquid sticking to his skin. He glanced back at you and saw the droplets gathering at your temple.

"Look at me," he asked again, squeezing your arm. You could barely feel it.

"Look at me - please, please, hold on. We're almost there."

You wanted to listen, to do as he asked; but, you lost the strength and sagged against the chair, head lulling to the side.

He called out your name and you heard it faintly. He continued, calling out your name, getting louder and louder until he was screaming. He was seated right next to you; yet, in your ears, sounded so far away.

Sometime later, you jerked forward when the car came to a halt, felt his arms wrap around you, felt him carry you, felt the burning of overhead lights, heard panicked shouting from every which direction. You were set down on a hard surface and cried when his hands left you.

Eventually, everything went dark.

[random-mha-thoughts]

Dork (Kaminari x Reader)

Pairing: Kaminari x Reader

Anon requested: “Not sure if u are taking requests but if u are could you do a Denki x reader imagine where he likes them so he keeps breaking (y/n) phone chargers without her knowing so she has keep asking him to charger her phone, but one day she catches him... or something like that. Sorry if this is unclear This is my first ever request. THANKS!!!”

Genre: Fluff

Tags:  @yuki-osaki​ @liviitehe​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog​ @bunnythepipsqueak​

Word count: 1,241

a/n: First Denki fic! Admittedly, I didn’t give him much character in this, but I hope this is okay!  Thanks for the request and I hope to see you again in my ask box soon!

"Damn it!"  I purse my lips as I constantly plug my charging cord into my phone.  As it did the last time, the device keeps barely keeps the charging icon for long before it disconnects and reconnects, vibrating like it's having a seizure.

"What's wrong?"  Denki comes up behind me suddenly.

"My charging cord's broken again!" I lament.  "This is my third one this week alone!"

"Oh, that sucks."  He rifles through the large pocket of his shorts.  "You can borrow mine again if you want, I'll charge it for you."

Reluctantly, I take the end of it.  "I feel bad, I've been asking you to do this all week."

He tugs the USB end to lead the two of you to the couch in the common room.  "It's cool, I don't mind.  I'm basically a walking talking battery pack anyway."  He flashes his finger guns at me cheesily.

"You're such a dork."  

We sit down in front of the TV while my phone charges.  Since the cord is short, our bodies end up closer together, my legs sprawled out on top of his lap as I scroll through my phone.

"I can't believe I have to buy another cord.  Why do they keep breaking?!"

"Maybe you keep buying the really cheap convenience store ones?" Denki offers, still keeping the cord end between his teeth.

"Yeah, but there's no visible damage to it, I don't know where exactly the break in the cord is.  If I knew, I'd try to remedy it."  A braided cord comes across my screen.  "Maybe I can get one of these?"

Denki shrugs at the screen.  "Maybe it'll work, I'm not too crazy about braided cables, it seems unnecessary to me."

"It's only a few dollars more, maybe it'll protect the wires inside better?"

The boy snorts at my suggestion.  "I don't think a little bit of braiding on the outside will protect what's inside, even I'm not dumb enough to believe that."

"Maybe you're just too dumb to accept the benefits."

"Hurtful!"

.

The next day, I buy the braided cord, thinking it would be good enough to last me a while longer than the cord I already had.  However, the next day, the braiding had already started unwinding from the phone end.  At first, it didn't affect the charging, but the braiding steadily wore off the wire more and more each day, poking me uncomfortably until I eventually decided to throw it out.

"Well, that didn't work either," I pout, my head resting on Denki's lap as he charges my phone again.

"Told you so, but you called me dumb!" he points out smugly.

"And you still are, but you're a helpful idiot at least," I shoot right back at him playfully.

The boy fakes a sniff.  "I see how it is.  You only like me for my talented mouth."

"Ew, don't say that again, that's just weird."

"Yeah, sounded better in my head, sorry."

We grew more comfortable with each other because of these small moments.  Little talks here and there about our interests and other things, mostly because sitting so close to each other allows us to see each other's screens easily.  I'm closest to him out of all the other boys in class, in more than one way of course.  One secret I found out about him is that he's a closeted Selena Gomez fan (I caught him listening to the "Rare" album as he tried to hide it in his notification center, but he didn't realize it was playing too loud from his earbuds).  He's a dork, but he's my dork I guess.

.

I ended up giving up on charging cords.  Since there's 20 of us in the same building, I figured just using someone else's cord with my own charging brick would be fine.  Until a week later, my charging brick also went out of commission.

"What the actual fuck?!"  I'm frustrated at this point.  No matter who's cord I plug into the adapter, it just doesn't charge my phone at all.

"Come on, I gotchu."  Denki already wraps his arm around my shoulders, cord in his free hand.

"I'm just sick of it!  I don't understand why this is happening to me!" I groan, clenching my fists.  "Why am I so unlucky?!"

"The universe must be telling you that I'm your designated battery charger, sweetie."  The flirty line comes from his lips easily as he tries to massage my hands open.

"The universe hates me."

As Denki tries to comfort me, I get to thinking.  There are at least a handful of people who have the same phone and charger as me, so there isn't an issue with the building itself.  And considering how these events only happen to me proves that these aren't coincidence.  Someone's doing it on purpose, and I think I know who it is.

.

To test my theory, I buy a new wall adapter and leave it on the common room table, announcing I'm gonna use the bathroom and fetch someone else's charging wire.  Ducking behind a wall, I spy on the room of only a few people.  No one is hovered around the couches, just a few boys sit at the table.  Sure enough, Denki gets up from his seat and heads for the kitchen.  On the way over, he casually swipes the adapter off the table and buries it in his pocket.

I knew it! I quietly follow him into the kitchen, only to catch him overloading the poor plastic with his electricity.  "I was wondering what could've possibly broken my wall adapters," I state, making my presence known.

The blond jumps ten feet in the air and turns to me.  "Aw shi-"

"You mean to tell me," I start walking towards him, "All this time, you've been breaking my cords, watching me waste my money every week, and for what?"

Denki's body backs up into the counter as I gain on him, nervous laughter the only thing he emits.  "I-It was just a joke!  Harmless fun!"

I grab his shirt collar and glare at him so his eyes screw shut and he whimpers.  "You better pay me back all that money I spent, clear?"

"Crystal," he squeaks.

I smirk, done messing with him.  Pulling him closer to me, I join our lips together in a short yet powerful kiss.  I can't tell if the sparks between us come from him or the built-up chemistry between us finally releasing.  The bewildered blush on his face is priceless.  "If you wanted to spend time with me, you should've just come out and say it, stupid."

The boy gapes like a fish out of water.  "How-Why-What-"

"You're so easy to read," I roll my eyes playfully before letting go.  "If you were a dog, your tail would wag constantly around me.  But it's cute."  Holding his nape, I press another kiss to the corner of his lip before letting go and strolling out of the kitchen and stopping at the doorway.  "I want my money and a replacement adapter before you take me out on a proper date, dork."

Looking back, he's practically drooling with cartoon-ish heart eyes despite the red still coating his cheeks.  Little sparks start flashing around his body.  "Sure thing," he agrees dumbly, giving me two thumbs up like he's short circuiting again.

With a final wink, the electricity envelopes his entire body as he yelps in glee.  Oh this dork.

[five-rivers]

Secret saturdays prompt

The secret scientists and/or argost finding out Zaks s1 finale secret. The show did a 6 month time skip and never showed us /how/ they came to find out.

Zak got sick when they came back from Antarctica.  It wasn’t something particularly foreign to him.  Traveling all over the world meant that he picked up a lot of bugs.  It was an occupational hazard.  Or, well, not occupational, exactly, because Zak didn’t get paid for what he did, but...  

Yeah.

(Maybe he should get paid for this.  He did a lot of work, if he was being honest.)

Usually, though, nothing he got was this bad.  Mom theorized it was because he overused his powers.  Dad thought it was just the stress and the shock- Both things that could impact an immune system.  Doyle kept making jokes about bottled water, because, yeah, that was the problem.  

Not.  

A cold was something he could deal with, though.  A nice distraction, even, from having to figure out the implications of the Kur artifact lighting up when pointed at him.  

(Maybe, he hoped, Kur was an inherited title, and when he defeated Kur-controlled-by-Argost, it jumped to him.)

(Maybe it was just broken.  It wasn’t like Doyle was all that spiritual.)

(Maybe it lit up whenever it was near someone with Kur-like powers.)

(Maybe Kur was living in the back of Zak’s mind and any minute now-)

(Maybe...  Maybe Zak was Kur.)

Except, the universe had abruptly decided to hate Zak, because the illness was also screwing with his powers.  Every so often, they’d just turn on out of nowhere, not even doing anything, and it would hurt.  Like in the ice caves with Doyle, when he was flooded with more spiritual energy than his body could safely handle.  Like when he overused his powers in Antarctica.

It really wasn’t conducive to the whole ‘ignoring it’ thing he was going for.  

Mom opened the door to his room, and he groaned as the light hit his eyes.  “Hey,” she said, maneuvering around the door with a tray in her hands, “how are you feeling?”

“Bad,” said Zak.  

Mom put the tray on the table next to his bed and took his temperature.  “Still high,” she said.  “Do you feel up to eating?  I have soup.”

“Okay,” said Zak.  He sighed and rubbed his eyes and frowned at the gold reflecting off of them.  He squeezed his eyes shut, willing his powers off.  With another groan, he forced himself into a sitting position.  “I’ve been having weird dreams,” he said, taking the spoon.  It felt heavy.  

“Oh?  Like what?”

“Like...  There’s something moving around outside, in the woods, and I think it’s Fisk, but Fisk and Zon are with me.”  He poked the soup, breaking the thin skin that had formed on top of it.  “You’d think I’d be having dreams about that but...  I don’t know.  It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” said Mom, ruffling his hair.  “You should probably take a shower next time you get up.  You’re all sweaty.”

“Okay,” said Zak.  

.

“I’m worried,” said Drew.  “I think there’s something supernatural about this illness.”

Doc looked up from the culture they’d taken of Zak’s throat swab.  “Really?” he said.  “You don’t think it was a pathogen he encountered when he went into the Antarctica cryptid to fight Argost?”  

Both parents shuddered.  They could still hardly believe they’d let Zak do that, even if the fate of the world was in the balance. 

“He’s dreaming about the prowler,” said Drew, before reciting what Zak told her.  

“That could be a coincidence,” protested Doc.  

“You know,” said Doyle, entering the room with a bag of chips and his hair plastered to his forehead with mud, “after all this, I’m not sure I believe in coincidences anymore.”

“No food in the lab!” shouted Doc, pointing an accusing finger at Doyle.  

“Jeez, dude, lighten up.  What’s the worse that could happen?”

“You could ingest a deadly chemical,” said Drew.  

“Oh,” said Doyle.  “Yeah, I guess that would be bad.”

“Did you find the prowler?” asked Drew.  

“Nope,” said Doyle.  “Not hide nor hair, even with Jurassic overhead.  But what I did find...”  He made a face.  “You know the river?”

“Yes, Doyle,” said Doc, “we are in fact aware of the river we live next to.”

“Yeah, cool.  All the fish are dead.”

“What?” asked Drew, raising her eyebrows.  

“Dead,” said Doyle.  “Belly-up.  A lot of the plants near the water aren’t doing so great, either.  I’d stock up on bottled water if I were you guys.”  He took a sip from his own bottle of water, as if to prove a point.  “Now, what were talking about when I came in?  Do you think this prowler has something to do with the little guy being sick?”

“Yes,” said Drew.  

“Maybe,” said Doc.  

They looked at each other.  

“I think we need more help,” said Drew.  “He’s not getting better.”

“Grimes and Lawhorn?”

“They do specialize in paramedicine.  They’re even working on a cure for everything.  Unless you think this is neurological, in which case we should call Dr. Bara again.”

Doc made a face.  “Not after what happened last time.”  More than half of the house was still in ruins.  

“Hm, I don’t think Grimes and Lawhorn will be that happy to see us, either,” said Drew.  

“They weren’t hurt that badly,” protested Doc.  “Arthur just likes to exaggerate.  They aren’t even O-positive!”

“Even so,” said Drew.  “But, yes, I think we should contact them.”

.

Zak stirred as Fisk picked him up.  “What’s goin’ on?” he asked, sleepily. 

“Hrry nn thhn yueeep.”

“It’s fine.”  Zak sat up a little so he could rest his head on Fisk’s collarbone.  “Where are we going?”

Fisk answered, and Zak nodded sagely.  

“I’m really sick, huh?”  He closed his eyes and let himself go to sleep again.  

.

“Miranda, Arthur, we didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Well,” said Arthur, “after that whole think with skunk-stripe’s mirror-world double, they’re kind of on edge when it comes to tall stuff, here.”  He nodded at Fisk.  “They asked us to monitor.”

“We also wanted to discuss what happened in Antarctica,” said Miranda.  “Your report felt... incomplete.”

“Right,” said Doc.  At least they’d ironed out a cover story before coming.  “We’d like to take care of our son, first, though.”

“Of course,” said Miranda.  “We’re in no hurry.”

.

“Hey, there, buddy, how are you feeling?”

“Dr. Grimes?”

“Yep, that’s me.”

Zak blinked slowly.  “Better.”

“Good!” said Grimes.  “We weren’t sure if that would do anything, but there we have it.  Seems like you picked something up from Kur after all.”  They spun in their chair and didn’t notice how Zak cringed at the name.  “Had to give you an Ancient Sumerian protective amulet.  Not easy to get those right!”

“Oh,” said Zak, who had been wondering about the thing tied around his wrist.  “Cool.  Where are Mom and Dad?”

“Talking to Miranda and Arthur.”

“Oh,” repeated Zak.  “Why’re they here?”

“They wanted to talk about Kur,” said Grimes.  “I heard you beat it and Argost both!  That’s impressive.”

“Thanks,” said Zak, fiddling with the amulet.  A spike of pain went through his head, and with it came a sense of movement, images of a forest, the outside of Lawhorn and Grimes’s home.  

... What?

“Hey, Zak, are you okay?” asked Grimes.  They said something else, but Zak didn’t hear him.  

“Something’s coming,” said Zak.  

Grimes rolled their chair to the door and pulled it open.  “Saturdays!  You kid is being ominous!”

.

Arthur frowned as he watched Doc and Drew leave the room.  He wasn’t good at reading people, but-

“They’re hiding something,” said Miranda.  

“I think you’re right, buns,” said Arthur.  

Miranda rolled her eyes.  “I can understand you not remembering my name, Arthur,” she said.  “But if you call me that again, I’m going to hit you.  With something heavy.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get your circuit boards in a twist.  What do you think they’re hiding, though?  Why hide anything?  Like, they told us the parts they screwed up on, letting Argost getting away and all.  What could possibly be worse than that?”

Miranda frowned and rubbed her lower lip.  “They aren’t the type to lie to make themselves look good, Arthur.  There’s something else.  The timing of Zak’s illness...  They would lie to protect each other, to protect their children.”

“What, do you think short stuff was poisoned by Argost or something?  Not that it’d be out of character.”  

The idea that Argost got away with Kur, or at least that he had the Saturday’s under his control...  That was scary.  But it had to be the second one.  Argost was patient, but not that patient.  There would be wide-scale destruction.  

If he was threatening the Saturdays into working for him by holding the kid hostage, that was bad enough.  Even if it probably felt like a consolation prize from Argost’s perspective.  

“No, it wouldn’t,” said Miranda.  “We’ll have to look into it and hope Lawhorn and Grimes can find a solution.”

“We can do more than that!  We can go back to their house and see what they’re giving Argost!”

“Arthur, no.  We don’t even know if that’s what’s happening.  We can’t just break into their house.”

“We can,” Arthur argued, crossing his arms.  “You just don’t want to.”

“These are our friends,” said Miranda.  “I was only giving a possibility.  They might not be hiding anything at all.  They could just be worried about Zak.  I know I am.  Besides, Drew has her mercenary little brother guarding the place.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Arthur, waving his hand, “whatever.  I don’t want the kid hurt, either.  We’ll talk to them again when he’s better, maybe they’ll change their story.”

Arthur was about to elaborate on this when a rotund, three-legged, three-armed creature with far too many eyes tore through the walls.

.

Zak gasped and reached for the Claw.  Which he didn’t have because he was still in his pajamas.  His head pounded.  The talisman wrapped around his wrist burned.  Dad and Mom stepped between him and the monster, and Fisk pulled him away, to the side of the room, out of the line of fire.  

“Who dares to take my prey from me?” growled the creature.  “Who dares to come between me and Kur?”

“Azag,” breathed Zak.  He didn’t know how he knew this cryptid’s name.  He just did.  

“The Sumerian sickness demon?” asked his mother, brandishing her sword.  

“Kur,” said Azag, all of its eyes fixed on Zak, “the flesh you wear now is weak, and I will take great pleasure in watching it fail you, in watching it trap you, oh Kur, great king of the cryptids.”

“Stay away from him,” said Mom.

“Or else,” said Dad.

The monster started laughing.  Then it was hit from behind by one of Arthur’s energy discharge weapons.  It hissed and righted itself.  

“Do you think I fear his mortal servants?  Fools!”  It lunged for Dad.  

“No!” shouted Zak.  His powers flared and the talisman burst into a hundred tiny pieces as he forced himself into Azag’s mind.  

(Too familiar- Had he done this before?)

“Can’t,” he panted, “hold for long.  Hurry!” 

Grimes snatched a bottle from a cabinet, and a syringe from a drawer.  “Just hold it a minute longer, Zak.  If this is what I think it is-”  They didn’t finish the thought as they filled the syringe with the liquid from the bottle.  

Then he plunged the needle into the creature’s stony hide.  It screamed, the sound and pain echoing through the connection Zak had made with it.  His vision went white.  He felt his eyes roll back in his head and his knees go out.  

Nothing more.  

.

“What was that?” asked Miranda, staring at the melted remains of Azag.  

“Disease demon,” said Grimes, giddily.  “Lawhorn and I always theorized- I’m so glad I was able to test it!  The panacea!  I wonder what diseases it represented and how they’ll be affected...”

“Whatever,” said Arthur.  “I’m more interested in what that was.”  He pointed at Zak, who had collapsed and was currently being fussed over by his parents.  “You two have a lot of explaining to do.  And you’re going to start with why that thing was calling him Kur.”

[yeojaa]

up all night.

inspiration:  “i'm sorry I keep staring, but you're really the hottest thing i've ever seen in my entire life and i don't know what to do about it.”

i’ve never written for joon before so please don’t burn me at the stake! 🥺 this is dedicated to @sahmfanficbts and ty mucho to @salvejoon​ and @moonmintrails​ for reading through this for me 💖 part two will be forthcoming!  

pairing.  knj x f!reader.  rating.  general.  tags.  mc is a recreational drug user (nothing hard!  just gummies!) and there’s mentions of like, boning and booze.  but generally, just a warm n soft fluff piece.  wc.  1.1k.

The neighbourhood bodega is your happy place.  

It’s where you go when you’ve had a long day at the office and want to drown yourself in six different types of Ben & Jerry’s, the likes of which it always has in stock and in all the flavours you want (Cherry Garcia, Half Baked, Peanut Butter Cup).  It’s where you go when you’re too lazy to make dinner and want to inhale a perfectly made, smooshed down deli sandwich piled high with all your favourite accoutrements.  It’s where you’ve cried quietly, standing in the snack section after a terrible breakup.  It’s also where you’ve, perhaps, spent too much money on beer after an impromptu decision to wake up with a pounding headache.

It’s somewhere that’s seen you grow up, from your shitty pre-teen days - when you’d had that godawful fringe and those ugly sneakers your parents had bought from the Super A Mart in Chinatown - all the way to now, with your slightly cuter shoes and significantly better hair.  It’s watched you grow as much as your family has, a figurative presence in your life that’s shaped you through the years.

It knew when your time of the month was and how much chocolate you ate when it came around.  It knew the sheepish way you’d scuff your toes when you were buying things you shouldn’t:  beer using a remarkably bad fake ID when you were fifteen, cigarettes during a brief stint during your first year of university, and condoms when all of your friends had started fucking like rabbits and you didn’t want to be left out.

All of that to say, your neighbourhood bodega knows you well and with that comes the uneasy acceptance that someone else - someone with a heartbeat and a brain and big imposing shoulders - knows you just as well, if not better.

Kim Namjoon.  Son of Mr. and Mrs. Kim, card-carrying pantydropper, and the guy you’d harboured a crush on for the better half of your adolescent years.

You weren’t really sure when it’d happened - just that it’d followed you from the tender age of thirteen when you’d first gotten flustered over his big dimpled cheeks and slow, tight-lipped smile.  It didn’t matter that he was four years older than you - now an astounding twenty-eight - or that he’d witnessed you embarrass yourself since you were old enough to stick your own foot in your mouth.  You simply couldn’t help it.

He was cute in a way that snuck up on you, that you didn’t need reminding of but that presented itself at the strangest times.  

Like when you’d be half-baked and stocking up on munchies, dressed in running shorts and an oversized tee shirt because you were too lazy to change into anything else.  He’d flash that goddamn smile of his as he rang you up, biting back laughter when he’d scan the fifth bag of Goldfish.

Or when he’d catch you huffing and puffing at absurd times, lungs heaving from having jogged all the way from Crown Heights station.  He never had to ask what you needed - would only silently pop the locked door back open and let you in to get whatever you seemed so desperate for.

You knew they weren’t the best impressions - little facets of your wayward personality presented like a whirling dervish - so you’d never thought more of it.  

After all, he was Kim Namjoon and you’d heard about all the ways he broke hearts.  Never on purpose, fortunately, but with increasing frequency since you’d started running in the (surprisingly) same circles.  He was as unattainable as the specialty imported chocolate on the top shelf of his parents’ bodega - always enticing but terribly out of reach.

Which is why you’re gaping at him now, a not-very attractive fish out of water.  

“What?”  You’re not sure whether it’s the fact that you’ve got one AirPod lodged in your ear, but you don’t trust what you’ve just heard.  It makes zero sense, like 400-level mathematical equations.  You were a political science major, for crying out loud.

When Namjoon responds - in that confident, measured way of his - you have to focus hard on the words.  “I asked if you wanted to get drinks with me.”  

Drinks.  With him.  With Kim Namjoon.  The Kim Namjoon.

You feel like your brain’s short circuiting and not just because of the THC gummy you’d taken right after work.

“You… want to get drinks?  With me?”  You know you must sound a little stupid - though you swear you’re not and you think, despite all signs pointing to it, Namjoon doesn’t believe so either.

He laughs as he bags up your purchases:  candied almonds, a bag of sour Skittles, chocolate milk, and three things of chips.  The sound keeps you occupied, wholly focused on the way it echoes out of that big cavernous chest of his and battles the lofi that’s playing in your ear.  You wonder how someone can be so effortlessly charming.  

It probably has something to do with your crush.

“Is that so hard to believe?”  He spares you the sympathy, instead offering a playfulness you’ve never seen up close and personal.  It feels nice - sun-warm and organic, like spending a day at the park.  

You decide in that moment - in your oversized boyfriend jeans and big sunglasses pushed up in your hair, with your absurd amount of goodies resting on the counter between you - that you want more of it.  You want more of Kim Namjoon, even if you’re unravelling his mysteries as you go.

“I guess not.”  

“So, drinks tonight then.  10 PM.  I’ll meet you at your place.”  There are no further questions - just statements that pop off his tongue and sink comfortably beneath your skin.  It feels good, if not a little strange.  You’re still trying to wrap your mind around the fact that this is happening.

Your lips move before you have a chance to stop them, words tumbling out in a haste you attribute to your high but that seem more like nerves.  You hate that it makes you sound so uncertain because you know you’re funny and you sure as hell know you’re cute, but it feels like you’re a little leaguer facing off against Jose Canseco.  “Can I ask why?”

He shrugs - an impressive roll of his shoulders beneath the plain white cotton that hugs him in all the right places and makes his skin glow honey gold against it.  “You're really just the hottest thing I've ever seen in my entire life and I know I’ll hate myself if I don’t do something about it.”

You thank your lucky stars for the Kim’s bodega then.  You promise you’ll never visit another one for the rest of your life.

[toothpastecanyon]

Deceive, Distrust, Destroy - Chapter 1

Alcor has grown up with his sister time and time again. It's a chance to relax, to forget for a little while... a chance that can easily be weaponised.

Thank you so much to @feferipeixes for beta reading this!!

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.  

______________________________________________________________

“I need you to save my daughter.”

If there was anything consistent about Alcor, it was how consistently he made the stupidest choices in the multiverse.

That was what Oz’darthic Of Shadows thought, anyway. So many times had she watched Alcor wrap himself in the body of a human child and forgo his power… it made no sense! Where was the benefit? What was his plan? He didn’t even try to mess with the lives of those around him - it was a shameful display, really.

    Shameful, that the most powerful demon in the world was so very weak. If only the tables were turned, if only she could wield the power of the Dreambender… well, those mortals down on Earth would finally get a taste of what demons were truly capable of.

    If only.

But, barring that, she had been hatching up another plan, making deals, playing muse to a few arrogant humans. All the pieces were lining up, and just now, she’s waiting to see if this last one will fall into place - or if it will blow up so catastrophically she won’t take form again until the end of the universe.

    It’s night, in front of a sleepy family house. All the lights are off, but the moon illuminates a man standing before the driveway… and the knife in his hand. His fists ball up as he passes through a flaw in the wards, unlocks the door, steps inside.

For a moment, nothing. Not a sound. Another moment, then-

A scream. Crying, yelling, footsteps rushing down the hallway. The lights flash on and something bangs against the walls, and then it’s all drowned out by him.

Even Oz’darthic flinches a little at Alcor’s terrible roar. To attack a Mizar so brazenly - she doesn’t envy the weaker demon she forced inside. She feels its soul be shredded into tortured mist, and waits with bated breath to see if she’ll be next.

Maybe he’ll think this is too suspicious. Maybe. She can feel how he pauses at how weak, how mindless this demon is - it should have sensed his mark on Mizar and left her be. Why didn’t it? And how did it possess someone? Why-

But then, to Oz’darthic’s eternal relief, a cry. It cuts through the Dreambender’s thoughts, and now he’s rushed over to tend to the helpless mortal… all according to plan.

She curls her lip at that. What a predictable thing Alcor was. No demon should be this easy to trick.

Shaking her head, she steps back into the Mindscape. That was the most important step. There’s still things left to do, portals left to finish, sacrifices yet to receive… but it’ll all fall in place in the coming few years. She’s not worried about any of that. Once Alcor shakes hands with those puny mortals, there’ll be nothing standing between them and a delicious little apocalypse of her own.

“No, can’t you see, she won’t make it to a hospital! It has to be me. I promise this isn’t a trick, she’s special to me… take my hand. Let me save her. Please.”

A flash of blue flames brings a smile to Oz’darthic’s face. It is done.

______________________________________________________________

“Maeve! What’s the ETA on that light?”

“I dunno, I just opened it up!”

“Is it just a burnt out bulb? I hope so. That’s a quick fix.”

“I said, I just opened it up.”

“Sorry.”

    Maeve rolled her eyes as she opened the casing. The wires were all lit up with a flashlight’s beam… but then it shifted away. She glanced back, and saw her brother looking up at the sky.

    “Sun’s going down fast,” he said, and flinched when she smacked his shin. “Huh?”

    “We’ll be here all bloody night if you don’t hold the flashlight steady.”

    “Oh, sorry! This good?”

    “Yeah, keep it there.” She picked up her multimeter with her good hand and leaned in. Dipper watched her for a second, tried to keep the flashlight angled over her shoulder… but his eyes kept being drawn to the sky.

The end of the world had the most beautiful sunsets. The red skies cast deep shadows through the ruined houses, through the cracks in the decaying streets, through the rows of budding crops in the field before him. A little darkness fell on his foot, and he moved it away.

You could never be too careful.

    “Stupid… fecking…”

    “Maeve?”

    “Yeah, hand me the bulb, Dipper.” She stuck her hand out. “You were right. They called us out here to change a bulb.”

    “Why do you sound annoyed?” He raised an eyebrow. “It’s a quick fix, isn’t it?”

    “Yeah, it’s so quick they could’ve done it themselves!” The lights flickered on, bathing the crops in stark white light, and she threw her hands up in the air. “There, done! Four years of engineering and I’m stuck doing this.”

“Aw, it’s not that bad.”

“Aren’t you the optimist,” she grumbled. She closed the casing, and the broken bulb slipped out of her hand. “Oh, you little… ughhh.”

She reached down, behind the light, into the shadows. A part of her brain sounded alarms at that; she hesitated, and then-

    Something grabbed her hand.

Maeve swore and jumped back and the creature came with her; it was a hulking voidlike mass of spines, far larger than the patch of darkness it came from, snarling and digging its claws deeper into her wrist.

A jolt of fear ran down her spine, but it only served to steel her. Without hesitating she drew a warded knife from her belt and slashed the thing where it was gripping her - it let go with a terrible screech.

“Maeve!”

“Dipper!” She motioned at him. “Flashlight!”

He shone it right at the creature, and it shrank back with a hiss. They watched it slink back into the shadows, becoming formless as it left the light, disappearing into nothing.

Nothing, and everything. Maeve stared out into the night, into the endless darkness that surrounded their little field… and couldn’t help but shiver.

“Maeve!” A hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

She felt a stinging in her hand, and looked down. “Huh? Yeah, I’m alright.” She flexed her wrist. “Nothing seems broken. We’ll patch me up back at camp.”

“Yeah, we really should be going.” He kept his hand on her as she fished her flashlight out of her bag. “Need me to carry anything?”

“I told you I was alright, didn’t I?” She shrugged him off. “We’re done here. Let’s go.”

The two of them started making their way back, sweeping their beams across the broken road they travelled down. Grass had grown through the cracks in the tarmac, and on each side sat cars rotting in front of dilapidated old houses. Darkness loomed in those mossy windows; Maeve resisted the urge to shine her light at them, get a proper look. It was too dangerous to be distracted.

Too dangerous to do much of anything, these days.

The street opened up before them into a parking lot. Before them was one, single lit building; lights streamed out of the windows of an old Sainsbury’s supermarket, and a couple flickering floodlights lit up a patch of farmland right in front. Dipper started walking a little faster when he caught sight of the lights; Maeve rolled her eyes and followed.

“We’re nearly home!”

“Yeah, we’re nearly at camp.” She rolled her eyes. “I told them that field’s too far away. If we ran out of soil we should’ve just broken up the tarmac more, but does anyone listen to me, noooo…”

“What was that?”

“Nevermind, just grumbling.”

“Heh,” Dipper rubbed his head. “You do that a lot, don’t you.”

They crossed the parking lot, turning off their flashlights as they reached the crops. Maeve ran her palm over the leaves as they passed; it felt cool on her skin, calming.

The doors slid open as they approached, and the light and the sound of chatter put a lump in her throat. Dipper stepped through without hesitation; she took a breath, and followed.

Ding.

“There you are!”

Before Maeve’s eyes could even adjust, arms came around her. Her vision went dark as she was pressed into someone’s shoulder.

“I’m so glad you’re okay!” Squeeze. “It was getting so dark - what took you so long? You said you’d be back before sunset!”

“Hi, Mum!” Dipper drew back, a smile stretched across his face. “Sorry, we didn’t mean to stay out late. We were heading home, but-”

“Oh my god!”

She seized Maeve’s hand - Maeve stiffened at that, stepped back and ripped her hand away.

“Wait, you’re bleeding!” Her mother made another grab for it. “Just let me help, baby, I-“

“It’s fine.”

“But-“

“I said, it’s fine.”

Her mother’s face crumpled at that, and there was a pause. Dipper glanced between them, and then cleared his throat.

“Well, the crops are looking good!” He rubbed his head. “Got a pretty good look at them while we were fixing the, uh, light.” Another pause. “Ugh, you know, my head kind of hurts-“

Their mother was on him in a flash. “Oh no, are you alright?”

“I’m alright, just, you know, magic-“

“Let’s get you resting.” Their mother led him away. “I’ll get you some water, does that sound good? Alright, we’ll do that…”

Maeve watched them go, and rolled her eyes. She cast one look around the camp, at the others milling about and eating dinner, and then made her way to the near corner of the store. Some makeshift rooms had been created by moving an aisle next to the wall and divvying it up with cardboard and blankets; the closest one was hers, and she slipped inside.

It was cramped and bright - still lit by the store’s lights from above - but it was private, and she breathed a sigh of relief at that. Her hand was really stinging, so she sat down on her mattress and started digging through a mountain of spare circuit parts and screwdrivers they’d taken from a hardware store to find - aha! First aid kit.

Maeve took out antiseptic and a roll of bandages, and stopped to inspect her hand in the better lighting. There was blood, but not too much; the creature seemed to have missed anything important. All there seemed to be was a couple of claw marks, and a long scratch over the scarred stumps of her fingers, ending just before it hit her thumb.

She gave a wry smile at that as she opened the antiseptic with her teeth. At least it got her bad hand. A little spray, a couple bandages, and it’ll be fine.

Once that was done, she sat back on her bed, gave a stretch, and then relaxed with a deep sigh. She stared up at the lights, and could hear people chattering outside her room; their voices had an echo to them in the store that made it hard to hear what they were saying… but Maeve kind of liked that.

She liked not being able to pick out what people were saying, because then she’d have to think about them. She liked hearing her mother’s voice without knowing what she was saying, because whatever it was would surely annoy her, definitely ruin this nice little moment of being left alone for once.

She didn’t get many chances in the apocalypse, so she cherished every one she got.

[stillebesat]

Catch Me (If You Can) -Part 1

December Drabbles Day 17 Sanders Shorts: Remy  Sanders Sides: Logan  Blurb: Remy would not allow himself to be seen as needy and helpless in front of the general masses. He had an image to uphold. One of perfect health, snarky comebacks, and general sassiness. He didn’t get sick. Fic Type: Sick!Fic, Guardian!AU Overall Fic Warnings: Sickness, Fainting, Mentions of Religion Taglist in reblog. 

He tried to push open a pull door. That’s how Remy knew he was in trouble. 

“Gurl. Seriously?” He rasped, wincing at how his voice sounded like he’d been stranded in the Sahara Desert for twelve years. 

That wasn’t good. 

He needed to sound perfect. Perfectly uncaringly carefree that is. No one needed him sick. No siree. No. Remy would not allow himself to be seen as needy and helpless in front of the general masses. He had an image to uphold. One of perfect health, snarky comebacks, and general sassiness. He didn’t get sick.

The fact that the words ‘PULL’ were dancing right in front of his bloodshot eyes and he’d still tried to push open the freaking door was beside the point. 

Remy swallowed in a failed attempt to soothe the fire burning his throat to a crisp as he drew up his flagging energy to pull open said door. Pushing would have been so much easier. Taken less energy. Energy Remy was barely managing to keep above empty at the moment. No, if the cool glass door had only allowed him to let his weight fall against it in order to gain access into the local cafe that the interwebs claimed had a cure-all chicken based chili that could fix any illness within the hour, they both would have been much better off.  

Hopefully this was more of a fifteen minute cure. Remy would be spending the last of his money on this soup. He didn’t have an hour to feel better. Not after being laid up in his closet sized bedroom for the past two days with nothing but water in his apartment. He had places to be, a midterm exam to nail and a delightful after party to attend.

Adjusting his sunglasses, Remy walked-he did not stagger!-inside and paused to take in the place as the first nauseating wift of eggs and bacon hit his nose.

Quaint. 

That was the first word that came to his spinning mind. A quaint little cafe that practically screamed fifties country diner. Warm. Inviting. Probably run by a white-haired grandmother who adopted all the college kids as her precious grandchildren and piled their plates high with food to ensure that they got a ‘proper meal.’ 

At least that’s what he thought normal grandmothers did. His old hag had lived off of bread and butter for so long Remy doubted the creature masquerading as his granny knew other food existed. She certainly hadn’t when he’d been forced to stay weekends there as a kid. 

Focus.

Remy tugged at the collar of his jacket, already feeling sweat running down his back and prickling on his forehead. Too Warm. Grandma needed to turn on the AC. 

Focus.

There were far more of his peers hanging out here than he’d expected, doubling vision to be ignored, and he did not want to make a fool of himself by throwing up two steps inside the building. 

Remy took a shallow breath to avoid smelling more eggs. This soup better be heaven sent, because if it smelt anything like whatever was currently cooking...he doubted he would be able to keep it down.

“--lp you?” 

Remy blinked, lowering his sunglasses as he turned to the singular cadentic voice that cut through the buzzing in his head and promptly forgot that his lungs worked. 

If the soup wasn’t angelic, the help certainly was. 

Tall, lithe, with sharp sapphire eyes accentuated perfectly by a pair of glasses. The man standing at the counter was like the handsome stranger one meets in a romcom. That or one of those cherubic angels -minus the tropey golden locks- he’d been forced to stare at whenever the old hag had dragged him to church.

Remy pushed his shades back up, hiding his bloodshot eyes. What sort of deal with God had this Grandma made to have such a dark haired handsome glass of yesness working for her?

The man raised a singular perfect eyebrow. “Can I help you?” He repeated in that same melodious voice.

Remy nodded, not yet trusting himself to speak without sounding like a harpy in the face of such a wonderful tone. 

Focus.

First approach. 

Sticking his hands in his jacket pockets, Remy sauntered -he did not sway not at all, he was in perfect control of his balance thank you- up to the counter and leaned against it, offering his most dazzling smile to the man. 

Moment of truth.

“Hey, honeycakes.” He said keeping his tone low to prevent the rasp in his voice from being heard. “Where’s your Halo? Cus you, my dear, are quite the Angel.” 

Nailed it.

The man pursed his lips in a thin line, his head moving in the slightest of shakes. “Unfortunately, we’re out of honey cakes, sir.” He said, tilting his head to the display of desserts in the glass next to him. “But our triple death by chocolate cake will send you,” his hands moved to form air quotations -who did that anymore?- “over the edge.” 

Ooo was that a threat or an invitation? Remy flashed another smile, tugging at the collar of his jacket. So warm in here. “So long as you’re there to catch me, Honeybee. I’ll gladly leap over any edge for you.”

The man adjusted his black rimmed glasses, moving to the register. “So you want the cake then? That’ll be $3.58. For here or to go?” 

Seriously? Remy gaped before clicking his tongue in exasperation and straightened, only to grab the counter to keep himself from falling backwards as his legs nearly buckled. 

Focus Darlin. Get in. Get out. Get healthy. Flirt later. 

“Actually.” He flinched as his voice grated in his ears. He swallowed, again lowering his tone to hide the soreness of his throat as he rested his elbows on the counter. “I came for your ah--”  He flicked his eyes up to the menu overhead, briefly lowering his shades to squint at the wiggling letters. “Chicken Chili a la Cluck.” 

A spark of recognition flashed in the Angel’s eyes. “Ah, you are under the weather?”

“Wha--NO!” Shoot. Was it that obvious? “No, ma’am!” His voice cracked as Remy jerked his hand up in the scout salute. “On my honor it's for a….” He trailed off. Well that was a pretty pickle. How the blazes could he lie if he was promising on his honor? 

The man crossed his arms the faintest of smiles appearing on his lips. “Let me guess? A friend?” 

Was that excuse used a lot then? He shrugged, shivering as a chill ran down his back. Geez, Grandma had cranked the AC up a little too high now. The place was going to freeze over any second. “I just wanted a taste of home-made soup is all.” He managed, rubbing his arms. “To go.” 

Handsome remained silent, seemingly staring straight into his soul, bright blue eyes analyzing him like a hawk about to swoop down upon a rabbit.

Geez. He was no rabbit! Remy fixed a smile on his face, ignoring how his gums ached. Don’t show weakness. Not in front of his peers. He was fine. He totally didn’t feel like his knees were going to buckle at any second. Not at all. He could hold it together for a few minutes longer.

Abruptly the man nodded, releasing Remy from his analyzing stare as he pushed his glasses up so that the glare of the lights overhead on the lenses hid his eyes.

A pity. He could stare into those glorious eyes all day long.

“Of course, Total is $4.78 for the half size.”

Perfect. He only had a five anyways. “Ah, Sugarbee, truly you are an angel to provide me with such an affordable price for homemade goodness.” He purred, shifting slightly to fish out his limp wallet from his back pocket. This soup better be divine. If he kept up this conversation much longer his throat truly would catch fire. 

The man raised an eyebrow, holding out his hand. “I am not the one to thank for deciding prices, sir.” 

Sure sure. Grandma was the one who did, sweet soul that she was, making things affordable for all her poor adopted college children. 

“I’m sure if such an angelic being such as yourself set the prices then they would be even more heavenly.” Remy swallowed wishing the soup already was in his grasp as he finally pulled out the crumpled bill, fingers betraying him by trembling. “Even so, you can keep the--” 

The Angel’s cool fingers brushed his own, feeling like a breath of fresh air on a hot summer’s day. Remy’s breath caught in his throat, hazy mind short-circuiting at the unexpected touch. How he wanted to take those hands and-- GET A GRIP REMY! “--change.” He choked out, dropping his hand to the counter before he did something even more stupid than pushing on the pull door. 

Smooth. Real smooth. Geez Gurl. Keep it together! 

But that didn’t stop his fingers from tingling, nor from the room suddenly feeling like a sauna. What had happened to the arctic temperatures freezing him two minutes ago? 

The man huffed, slipping the five into the till. “Your soup will be out momentarily, sir.” He said, dropping the coins into the nearby tip jar with an all too loud clink. “If you could step aside so I could help the next customer in line?” 

Remy glanced behind him, lowering his glasses. Internally he cursed as he took in the gaggle of people he could barely focus on. Shoot. When had they come in?! He usually was more aware of that sort of thing. 

“Relax, Specs.” Said the guy right behind him, wearing a simple red shirt that showed off nicely toned arms.

Specs? What an ugly nickname. The Angel behind him was far more than his glasses.

 “I don’t mind the wait.” Red flashed a smile to Remy. “It’s not everyday I get to witness someone flirting with you.” 

Really? He had to have misheard that. “Who wouldn’t flirt with him?” Remy asked, casually straightening slowly enough that his vision wouldn’t tunnel. “Honeybee here is absolutely…” He gestured to give himself a chance to swallow back the agony rising in his throat. “Divine.” 

Red’s grass green eyes sparked with humor as he looked beyond Remy. “So I keep telling him.” 

“You tell me yes, and we both know you’re prone to drastic exaggeration.” His Angel stated, barely twitching as the chef rang the bell, placing a to-go bowl within range for ‘Specs’ to reach if he would simply turn around and grab Remy’s food. “Now are you going to order or are you just here to antagonize me at work again?” He asked. 

“Mmmm. Gurl. No. No.” Remy shook his head, whirling to fully face his cadentic Angel and promptly regretted it, placing a hand on the counter as his knees almost buckled. Hold on. Hold on. He was fine. “Ah--” He forced a smile to his face, fighting to see through his darkening shades, to look into those wondrous eyes. “Red here---no---doesn’t lie. You are an….an….ange--” The words suddenly felt heavy on his tongue as the diner tilted, the pressure of the cool marble top fading from his fingers as he fell backwards. 

“HEY!”

A band of ice wrapped around his wrist, jerking Remy upwards. His eyes fluttered open enough to see his Angel lunging over the counter, one hand holding his, the other clenching onto his jacket, saving his head from hitting the tile floor.

Well how about that? 

“You…caught me.” He whispered in stunned disbelief as his Angel’s bright blue eyes seemed to fill his entire world before everything went black.

To Be Continued Part 2

[karmasuna]

》you have a crush on bobby pins

pairing; shinso x f!reader

genre; fluff

wordcount; 2235

synopsis; it’s shinso’s birthday and he gets a very peculiar gift from a mystery person.

a/n; wooooo it’s shinso day! this is purely self indulgent and also heavily inspired by this assclass karashuu fic by @/gwendee on ao3! they’re like my all time favorite writer yes i just-

“Happy birthday, Shinso!” 

“Thanks,” the purple haired boy glances back at the girl who had just walked past time, giving her a small smile just to be polite. 

He doesn’t know that girl, he thinks. Ever since he’s joined the hero course he’s been getting a lot more attention, which he guesses was to be expected. It’s not bad, he supposes, but it does stand in stark contrast from how they had treated him just a year ago, shunning him because of his quirk. It’s a nice change.

 Coming to a stop in front of his shoe locker, he opens it only to promptly be hit in the face by an onslaught of gifts and letters. Shinso sighs. 

“Isn’t this is a bit too much,” he mutters quietly as he bends down to pick them up, nose scrunching a little when he catches a whiff of all the combined perfumes the girls must have drowned their cards and presents in.

Behind him Kaminari whistles lowly, eyeing the small mountain. “Bro, you’re gonna catch up to Todoroki’s level in no time. That dude has two fanclubs just here at school, I seriously have no idea how he does it.”

Finally managing to get everything out of his locker he slips on his indoor shoes, tapping them gently the floor before looking up at the blonde, unamused. 

“Take whatever you want,” he gestures at the pile. “It’s not like I would be able to eat so much chocolate anyways. I don’t even like them that much.”

“Sweet,” the blonde flashes him a grin, already fishing out a bag from his backpack and wasting no time with shoving boxes in. “You’re the best.”

“You came prepared, didn’t you.” Shinso grabs the cards and envelopes, scanning through the names to see if anything catches his eye. Unsurprisingly, nothing does so he just tucks them away in his bag. Of course you hadn’t put something in his shoe locker, that’s just cliché.

Kaminari shrugs, standing up and heaving the bulging bag over his shoulder. “Bakugo never wants his presents either, so I’m ready for it.”

When he gets to the classroom he’s greeted by a chorus of birthday wishes and another small stack of gifts on his desk. These elicit a genuine smile from him. They’re from people who know him well and it shows in the unique presents they had each picked out. 

It’s sappy but the thought they put into the presents makes his heart warm, and he doesn’t even try to stop the fond smile creeping onto his face as he flips through the album Midoriya had given him, complete with cute little notes from everyone. 

His eyes widen when he gets to the bottom of the pile, looking at the small pouch in confusion. There’s a few bobby pins inside and a small scrap of notebook paper, unfolding it to see “happy birthday” hastily written in chicken scratch. Clearly whoever wrote it was either in a hurry or didn’t really put any effort into the gift.

It’s a strangely thoughtful present, he supposes. Maybe now his hair would finally stay out of his face even when he does his homework after school and his hair gel softens just enough to let a few wisps constantly poke at his eyes.

Shinso thinks long and hard about who possibly could have given him such a peculiar gift even as the school bell rings, tuning out Aizawa’s announcements as he gets lost in his own thoughts, eyes scanning the room for any potential answers. 

There’s no way it could’ve been a boy. Last time he checked none of them were beauty gurus, and he’s pretty sure they wouldn’t know how to even use a bobby pin either, including himself.

So it was most likely a girl then. He finds his thoughts automatically drifts toward you, but he shoots the assumption down before it can even become an idea. Sure, out of all the girls he was definitely closest to you, but he’s convinced that you only talk to him because you feel sorry for his antisocial ass.

He sighs, burying his face in his hands. Now that he had jumped onto this thought train he can’t stop thinking about those stupid bobby pins. 

---

“Midoriya,” he later asks during class when he can’t take the curiosity anymore, “do you know if anyone in our class uses bobby pins?”

 Midoriya looks visibly confused from his strange question, and Shinso honestly doesn’t blame him at all. “Aren’t they really common? I’m not sure, but even Eri has some.”

That wasn’t helpful at all. Shinso thanks him anyways, and moves on to see if Kaminari and his habit of “observing” girls would be of any help. 

“Kaminari, I need you to help me find out who gave me bobby pins as a birthday present.”

The incredulous gaze he gets in response is definitely something he expected. “Um, what now?”

Shinso repeats himself, slower this time. The blonde still doesn’t seem to get it, so he pulls the small satchel out of his pocket and shows him. “Bobby pins,” he repeats, hoping Kaminari would connect the dots.

“Woah,” says Kaminari.

Shinso waits patiently to see if he had anything else to say. “That’s it? /Woah/?”

“I don’t know, man,” Kaminari peers at the little scrap of paper, studying the handwriting carefully. “I can help you ask around though. See what Jiro knows.”

---

Later that day after school he takes the bag out and puts it on his desk, staring at the small note that came with. He feels stupid for having used up most of his birthday thinking about bobby pins of all things. 

 “I need to know,” he tells himself before pulling out his phone and dialing.

 “The fuck you want, dipshit.” Bakugo picks up almost instantly, which Shinso is very thankful for.

“I need advice.”

“And you think I’m gonna help you like some shitty therapist? Fuck off, I don’t wanna hear you whine like a little bitch.”

Shinso waits a few moments, and when Bakugo doesn’t hang up he starts talking again. “I got bobby pins from someone in our class,” he begins. 

“Why do I need to know this.” The blonde sounds angry on the other end, so he decides to stoke his ego a little.

 “You don’t sugarcoat things, and I need you to tell me what I don’t want to hear. Not exactly something Midoriya can do.”

Bakugo snorts. “Damn right that shitty Deku’s useless. He’s fucking stupid.” 

“Yes,” Shinso agrees, “so help me out here.” 

And so he tells Bakugo everything. It’s not much given he really didn’t know anything about the mystery sender, but the blonde listens anyways, grunting occasionally to acknowledge his story.

“You have a crush on bobby pins,” Bakugo concludes when Shinso’s finished. 

“Say what now.” 

“You don’t know shit about whoever sent them but you can’t stop thinking about them. It’s pretty straightforward.”

The purple boy sighs loudly, not knowing what to say. Bakugo’s not wrong, really. It’s either that or-

“It’s either that or you have a crush on Y/N, since you obviously think she’s the one who gave them to you,” Bakugo says.

Shinso swears out loud. “I did not want to hear that,” he tells the other boy.

“Sorry. Maybe you shouldn’t have fuckin called me in the first place. This is a waste of time.” Bakugo doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“She doesn’t like me back.” At this point he doesn’t even bother hiding his crush on you anymore. If you were going to find out you would have ages ago.

“Why can’t you just ask her yourself and quit forcing me to listen to you whine like a little bitch.”

“Oh yeah.” He hadn’t even considered that an option. “I’ll definitely do that.”

“Cool. Can I leave now?”’

“Sure. Thanks, Bakugo.”

“I don’t want to hear your sappy shit,” is all he says before he hangs up. 

Shinso takes in a deep breath before pulling up your contact and quickly typing in a message, finger hovering on the send button, contemplating whether he should send such a dumb-sounding message and potentially weird you out. 

He’s still staring at the screen, his other hand going to brush hair from his eyes as he debates with himself.  

Suddenly there’s a knock at his door that snaps him out of his thoughts and makes him jump, resulting in his finger accidentally hitting the send button. Groaning in frustration, he gives himself five seconds to wallow in his regrets before getting up to open the door, definitely not expecting to see you there. 

“‘Toshi! I know it’s your birthday but it’s still Friday night, and you know what that means,” you grin at him, letting yourself in and flopping onto his bed. 

He closes the door and nods, sighing with the motion makes his hair fall into his eyes again.

“Yeah, you’re gonna force me to watch Haikyuu with you again.” 

You pout at him, scooting over to make space for him as you pull up the website on your laptop. “Don’t say it like you don’t enjoy it. I see the way you look whenever Yamaguchi gets to serve.”

“Shut up,” is all he says in response, but there’s no heat in his words.

“You aren’t denying it,” you say giddily, but your tone changes when you look at him and see him brushing hair out of his eyes again. 

“Didn’t you get the bobby pins his morning? Use them, geez,” you say casually as if it were no big deal.

Shinso freezes in his actions, trying to process what you had just said. “Yeah, I did,” he says carefully, trying not to give way the way his heart was racing in his chest, “how’d you know?”

Just then your phone pings, you laughing when you see his message. “Mhm, I put them there. If you’re not gonna use them then give ‘em back, I don’t wanna waste any. 

“Thanks,” he says, feeling oddly touched now that he knew it was really you. “I would use them but I don’t know how to.”

 You raise a brow, surprised by this new information. “Seriously? Don’t worry, I gotcha. Where are they?”

 Reaching over to grab a few from his desk he hands them to you, sitting still as you shuffle around to sit between his legs, carefully gathering the stray locks and twisting them gently. “Tell me if it hurts, yeah?”

 His brain is short-circuiting from how close you suddenly are. He can practically smell your shampoo, and seeing you so pretty and focused up close doesn’t help him calm his heart at all. 

 Your lips look really kissable right now, he thinks to himself. If he just tilted his head up the smallest of fractions your lips would meet, but he’s too afraid of ruining your friendship.

 “Damn, you really put a lot of effort into getting me a present,” he murmurs, “with the chicken scratch and all.”

 “Shush, you know how bad I am with birthdays. Be grateful I got you anything at all.”

 “Wow, I’m so touched,” he retorts sarcastically, rolling his eyes at how you had just blatantly admitted you didn’t remember his birthday, “guess this means I don’t have to get you that Oikawa figure for your birthday then.” 

 He chuckles when he feels you freeze up from his words. “What? You literally gave me your own pins and told me to give them back. What kind of a crappy birthday present is that?”

 “No, please. I need my Tooru,” you whine, voice smaller than before. “I’ll get you something, anything I can afford, okay? Just tell me what you want.”

 He hums, thinking about his options,  waiting for you to get back to work on his hair before speaking up again. “Anything?”

 “Anything my wallet can handle,” you clarify, mock glaring at him as you pull at the strands roughly, making him grunt in pain. “Okay okay, I got it, chill.”

 “I don’t think what I want is going to hurt your wallet at all,” he breathes, studying your reaction to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable. 

 “Mhm,” you say, not really paying attention to his words as you slide the last bobby pin into his hair, “I’m done! What do you want then-”

 You’re interrupted by him tilting his head up ever so slightly to press his lips against yours in a soft kiss. Gasping in surprise, you don’t even have time to react before he pulls back, rubbing at the back of his neck bashfully. 

 “Um, I’m sorry,” he begins, but this time you cut him off, throwing your hands around him and grinning.

 “For what, stupid? Kiss me again.”

 There’s no denying your words set his cheeks away, but he swallows before leaning back in to connect your lips again. Hands carefully snaking their way around your waist and pulling you even closer, holding you so gently as if he were afraid you would shatter or disappear. 

 “I really like you,” Shinso whispers when you pull apart, bumping his nose gently against yours.

 “I like you a lot too, ‘Toshi,” you grin, “happy birthday.” 

 He hums in agreement, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Best birthday ever.”

---

“I should just give you my phone case or something for your birthday.”

 “What the hell? Our phones aren’t even the same model!”