#i have met so so many people apologising for having the kind of enthusiasm i do though. and that's even sadder

[psalmsofpsychosis]

Me: anyway i'm actually very very dead inside, i haven't used more than 4% of my capacity for warmth in the last 15 years, and i dont feel like i can, i feel super lethargic and beaten all the time

Fella sitting beside me: you're literally burning the stool under your ass and shooting lava from your eyeballs but okay

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Yay I was the anon who asked if you watch the new John Wick film, I hoped you enjoyed the movie!

Can I request some yandere marquis de gramont headcanons? (it can be romantic or platonic)

man was the biggest prick that i had seen in a while from a movie lol

Yandere Vincent de Gramont Headcanons

A/N:You read my mind Anon lmaoo - I was literally planning on writing some HCs for the Marquis <3

Despite the initial conception one may have about Vincent's dedication to a lover – that being none – he's actually surprisingly...loyal.

While he has the playboy exterior, enough money to soak up the oceans of the Earth and all the allure that comes with his occupation, he secretly feels as if he has nothing at all.

What he wants, what he really, truly wants, is to feel something new. Something he’s never experienced before.

Love.

Not just for himself - for someone else.

His brush with John Wick made him realise how empty his life was by comparison to the Boogeyman, who lived and almost died for the memory of love.

And that stuck with Vincent. Affected him more than he’d like to admit.

But, his heightened status above most others has left him isolated with few who wish to know him in a capacity beyond acquaintances for fear of incurring his wrath with a misplaced word or an overstepped boundary.

Thus, love is almost an impossibility for the Marquis.

And then he met you.

And grew obsessed intrigued. Fast.

He likely met you in passing completely separate from his usual crowd – which is to say hunters and murderers.

And he's taken aback by you; your beauty, your charm, your personality. In a way that, while many others have tried, have never breached Vincent’s superficial interest.

Or perhaps you nurse that same melancholy void he harbours; the desire for something more. Which, divulging it to him, a complete stranger, the Marquis finds oddly endearing. Vulnerable.

He’s enchanted. The void in his chest seems to tighten somewhat. Heal.

You’ve given him what no other has before. Genuine, friendly, interested conversation. All without even knowing who he is.

Now, having to rush off, apologising with a smile for taking up his time with “Trivial banter,” Vincent watches your retreating form.

He has his sights set on you.

Over the next few days, while conducting business and going about his everyday life, Vincent’s mind keeps crawling back to you, those fateful minutes wherein he felt he knew everything about you and nothing at all.

Though, he doesn't actually want to admit it at first.

While, yes, he does want to experience true love, he is entirely unwilling to acknowledge the disgustingly human need to feel something.

So, he tries to hide it. Bury it beneath his work, French desserts and luxuries you've never even heard of.

But, over time, you spring back up in the forefront of his mind when you are no longer content with being a voice in the background. A memory of a time where Vincent felt as if he’d truly been seen.

And Vincent, passing off his secret enthusiasm as boredom, a mere meandering of memories, ‘allows’ the odd thought of you to trickle in here and there.

You are a form of medicine. Whenever Vincent feels something undesirable brewing in his chest, he finds himself back with you on that bench in the park, your warmth and presence sun rays against his face as he’s transported from one of his many mansions to beside you once more.

And, even if he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, you scratch the right spot in his psyche that material gain just can’t. Not in comparison to the human touch you have.

Gramont’s so used to people regarding him with favour or fear that it still takes him aback now how kindly you treated him, not knowing who he is or what he does.

You had nothing to gain from your kindness. And yet you still gave it to him.

Healed him with it.

Vincent’s daydreams start to grow more intense the longer he thinks about you.

An emulated conversation. Additions and projections of the recollections of your encounter, no matter how brief. Anything to let Vincent feed off the feeling you gave him when he’s exhausted the phantom of your first encounter.

There comes a point, weeks after you first met, where Vincent spends more time in these memories, both real and fabricated, than in the conscious world. And they strengthen, pulling his focus from his work, from his duties.

At first, this manifests as a glazed look in his eyes, one which, to all those who knew of him, could pen as the typical, uninterested Marquis stare.

He wears the same one in the comfort of his private rooms, one where nobody can see what he’s thinking. But now, people can see Vincent couldn’t care less about the projected bounty of this one killer from Wales; he just wants to be left alone with his thoughts.

His men have started to notice, too.

And, one evening, Vincent decides to lay upon them a task.

“I need you to find someone for me,” he says, his chin resting atop clasped hands. There is no jest, nor leniency, in his stare.

The task itself sounded easy enough. But with only a physical description to go on, not even having gotten your name, Vincent, for the first time in his life, is anxious.

Anxious his men won’t find you, no matter how deep his connections run.

Anxious that, while he’s lived in his dream world for the last month, you’ve since disappeared. Been killed, perhaps, or exposed to some freak accident.

Vincent pains at the feeling in his centre whenever he considers this a possibility. It tears the scabbing void in his chest wide open again.

Sometimes, while he lies in bed, the thought that might have perished somehow, that his men will have misinterpreted his specific instructions not to interact with you, only report on what you’re doing, plagues him.

He knows his men are loyal – that they’ve never failed a task before now. And he clings to the hope that their winning streak won’t run dry one of these nights.

One day, sat in his office, glancing over a document he’d tried reading for the last half hour yet couldn’t because, surprise, you were distracting him, one of his men came into the room.

“We have them, Sir,” he said, the image of victory. Vincent couldn’t help but scan his suit for any sign of blood. Your blood.

To say Vincent was excited is an understatement of epic proportions.

At first, he’s just numb.

Then, a few minutes later, his chest burns and sparks with an electric passion one acquires when meeting an idol.

Vincent wishes to deploy himself immediately. But he knows this is a waiting game.

So, he remains far enough away from your life that you do not suspect a single thing is wrong.

You don’t even glance over at the guy who’s been tailing you for the last few hours.

You don’t think twice about the stranger who’s been sat in perfect view of you in the cafe for the last two weeks.

You don’t even consider that the guy you bumped into earlier is responsible for your house key going missing.

Now, with access to your inner sanctum and your daily routine burned into his mind like a holy scripture, Vincent makes his move.

He stages meetings between the two of you.

Starts ‘bumping into you’.

At first, you simply recognise him, ask him how he’s doing and what he’s doing in the area.

And, Vincent, the man with an answer for everything, finds himself doing something he never has before.

He fumbles.

Even when he imagined you in a most vivid detail, nothing compares to this moment, where what he says has consequences, where he has one shot at getting this right. Or risk your uncertain stare.

He can feel fear rising in his chest as he stutters. Only once, but enough to knock him down a few pegs in your mind’s eye. At least, that’s what he thinks.

But, he completes his task, albeit not as pristinely as he wished.

He asked you out to coffee.

And you, with a signature smile, accepted.

And now, your fate is sealed.

Vincent beats himself up over his ineptitude of speaking to you like he did in his head: suave, cool, collected.

And, given the fact that he’s never had to take accountability for anything he’s ever done, he tries to blame it on someone else.

Not you, though.

Never you.

Regardless of this minor hurdle, as Vincent sees it, he purses this…friendship with you.

He isn’t used to the concept. Not in a visceral sense, anyway.

The saying ‘It’s lonely at the top’ comes to mind when describing Vincent’s relationships.

There is always a power imbalance, no matter who he’s speaking with.

He is always above them, and they are always below him.

But that’s when they know him. Know his dynamic.

You, you have absolutely no idea who he is, or what he’s capable of.

To you, he’s just Vincent, the owner of a successful manufacturing business.

No, Vincent couldn’t quite ditch the theatrics. He still needed an out to impress you – to have a valid excuse as to how he owns so many nice cars, how he never wears the same designer suit twice.

He doesn’t tone it down with the suits, by the way.

He’s too enthralled by the fascinated look you wear when you’re taking in the patterns, the chains, the craftsmanship.

Which, to his surprise, makes his face warm.

People have only ever looked at the label of his outfit, never the ensemble itself.

That’s just another of the ways you make him feel seen.

You tell him so much of yourself, yet not enough to break your mystique.

Vincent knows more about you than you think, and he uses this to create another version of himself – one which likes the same records as you (though, he unironically does enjoy them. But, he knows he likely wouldn’t unless you listened to them, too), has the same preferences for how you fold your clothes, whether you should brush your teeth before or after breakfast.

And Vincent devours every detail you grant him like a meal, saving them, storing them, testing them out in his newest daydreams when he gets home, his heart thrumming and his breathing short as an unfamiliar feeling of wholeness and anxiety overtakes him.

And yet, there is little he can offer in return.

Nothing that isn’t a lie, anyway.

He keeps you as far away from his work as possible, hence he meets you in such public spaces.

His men are always stationed nearby, disguised as civilians. Should the need for bloodshed ever arise.

Eventually, your weekly coffee meet-ups evolve into something else.

Vincent, after asking one of his men (under strict confidentiality) ”What do you do when you…like-like someone…?” starts taking you to restaurants.

He tries not to scare you off with anything too fancy, but he can’t help but feel part of himself die whenever he thinks about how dull the food here in this 5-star restaurant is compared to his usual dining preferences.

But you’re happy, thanking him for the meal with a gratitude that isn’t borne from a life-or-death scenario.

You’re not paying for these dates, by the way. Vincent won’t let you.

“I brought you here; I’m paying.”

He also has a tendency to go overboard with the gifts.

You tell him your watch is broken ? Here are five designer timepieces imported from a selective brand whose clientele is vetted and chosen by the CEO himself.

Of course, you can try to refuse these gifts – tell Vincent that you “Can’t possibly take them from you; it’s too much !”

But he plays the guilt card well.

“No, I insist,” he says, pushing them into your hands. “I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

If you actively wear or use anything he buys you, he’ll be overjoyed. Prideful.

You’re wearing something he got for you. That basically means you’re saying you belong to him.

Of course, he does get a little carried away with his…delusions. But he means well !

He’s just territorial.

Vincent can be a gentleman when he wants to be.

And can also be a vicious creature when he doesn’t.

He only presents one of these sides to you.

The other is reserved for his more…private affairs.

When he started feeling more intensely about you, his mind wandered to some rather unsavoury places – places that, usually, VIncent would walk through without batting an eye.

But now that he, dare he say...liked you…he felt as if he’d been drenched in cold water whenever he imagined you doing anything risqué.

So, with the steadily growing number of these thoughts, these images of you, piercing his mind, he decides to take matters into his own hands.

He beds people who look like you. 

The two of you aren’t dating yet; haven’t even held hands (though Vincent agonises over finding the right opportunity to do so).

But he still feels wrong. Like he’s cheating on you.

His sanity tries to prevent him from thinking like this, tries to keep itself intact by urging Vincent to pursue another mindless conquest.

Your name does slip out between his panting, though.

Much to the chagrin of whoever’s beneath him right now.

He wonders what you’d look like, what you’d feel like in this same position. What your preferences are.

There’s only one way to find out.

He tries turning up the boyfriend factor after he decides now’s the time to pursue you. Properly.

He sits a little closer to you whenever you invite him over for movie nights, holds you for just a little longer whenever you engage in your traditional parting hug.

And he can’t help but think about how much he wants to stay with you like this forever.

And permanence is a rare commodity for people in his line of work. No matter how many bodyguards he has, or how skilled he is.

Nothing is certain.

Which is why, one evening, lying awake in bed, he decides to act.

He knows it’s a risky manoeuvre, but he can’t deny how careless he’s been with you these last few months.

Not that you’d know, but his men have intercepted five people who’ve tried to kill you, take you – or worse.

All just to get to him.

He can’t leave you in the wide open world like this. He can’t let you be at risk. Not because of him.

So, that night, his heart in his mouth as he commands his men to “Find (Y/N). Bring them to me.” Vincent awaits your arrival.

And, eventually, he hears you. Clamouring in the halls outside his office, screaming and fighting. Resisting.

Vincent can’t help but crack a smile, knowing how defiant you are – how stubborn you can be in your method.

As the heavy footsteps of his men come to a stop outside his door, your screeching is blunted only by the thick wood.

And, doors open, here you are, shoved into the room.

Your captor revealed.

You look at him with what you could construed as almost-neutrality, your bewilderment a damper to your anger, your fear.

“Vincent,” you say, breathless. You take a staggering step towards him. His men take a step towards you, reaching for weapons concealed by their coats.

Vincent raises a hand, and they retract.

He looks at you.

His eyes are filled with nothing less than adulation, misplaced happiness in a situation you view as dire.

“Sit,” he tells you, casting a glance to the seat before his desk.

With little else you can do, you obey.

And your world begins to unravel.

Vincent, in the lamest, most gentle of terms, explains that he is “Not who you thought I was,” – that he does “More for a living than make vases and luxury dishware.”

“I,” he says, watching your eyes carefully, glassy and holding no less potential for terror. “Am the Marquis.”

Vincent stands, and when he sees you flinch, something in him withers. Hurts.

He shoves it aside.

“I am responsible for making sure that the right outcome is brought to the right people.”

His hands behind his back, pacing the length of your field of sight, he swallows. 

You’re judging him now. In a way you never had, you’re judging him.

His desire to display how grandiose his lifestyle is doesn’t seem so forthcoming anymore, hiding, shy.

This is more difficult than he anticipated.

“What does that mean ?” you say, voice tight and quiet.

Vincent’s fist clenches. He doesn’t want you like this. You should be happy he’s rescued you ! Albeit from threats you didn’t know pertained to you, but still !

“I’m…” he starts. His gaze wanders to his men, who, with perfect understanding, leave.

You almost don’t want them to go.

“I’m a reaper, of sorts,” he says. He draws closer, taking a step in your direction. You bite back the urge to flee.

“A face to a cause.”

When he doesn’t elaborate, instead watching you with what you think is scrutiny (but couldn’t be further from it), you ask, throat dry, hoarse from your screaming. Crying.

“What cause ?”

Vincent bites the inside of his lip. And, for the first time, he can feel himself cracking under your gaze.

You’re scared. He knows you are. He just wished he didn’t have to see it painted so blatantly on your features, downturned with grief should everything end on this night.

Where was your smile ? Your crinkled eyes, your sonorous laugh, your upturned lips ?

“I fix problems,” he says. There’s no way he can put his occupation lightly. “I used to do it with knives. Guns, a pencil, perhaps – whatever was at my disposal.”

He’s closer now, approaching. His arms are at his sides. And he stands before you.

You don’t want to look up. You want to look – be – anywhere but here.

But Vincent doesn’t let you.

“But now,” he says, and he gets to one knee. His hands trap you, on either of the arm rests of the chair. Yet he does not possess the face of one who is a captor, instead a mask of total capitulation to a feeling he couldn’t even begin to understand before you showed him.

“I do it with diplomacy. With people who are much better suited to that life than I.”

His voice is soft, quieter than before. There is a hint of a smile at his lips, pulling the corners, beginning the total eclipse of his eyes from full to crescent. An offset to the anxiety bubbling in his centre.

Your hands in your lap, he takes them in his, slowly, gently, fingers resting atop yours.

And he squeezes them.

Holds them. Just as he’d always wanted to.

“Why–” you swallow a sob, turn your head so you don’t let him see your face scrunch into the epitome of fright. “Why am I here…?”

Vincent’s lips part. His hand slips up to your jaw, urges you to look at him.

He’s forbearing. A butterfly.

Nothing like how his men handled you.

That in itself could almost convince you that he’s not such a bad guy. Even after all he’s told you.

“Because–” your face in his hand, he looks up into your eyes. Barely contained tears fill them.

“Because you’ll be safe with me,” he promises. There’s an unencumbered optimism in his eyes. A dangerous one at that.

“Because I can’t trust that my men can protect you when you’re so far away – alone – in the city.”

“What do you mean, Vincent ?!”

You don’t mean to snap. But since you’d just been kidnapped and the truth behind the matter is no clearer to you, you can’t help it.

Vincent almost seems to flinch, his eyes narrowing just for a second. He returns to you with his puppy stare.

“There are people out there who know who I am. What I do.”

He squeezes your hand again, his other still wrapped about your jaw.

“The problem now is that they know you, too.”

He swallows thickly, looking down for a split of a second. Guilt.

“And it’s my fault. I should’ve been more careful. Should’ve just left you alone, let you live your life…but I can’t undo that now.”

He laces his fingers between yours. And you’re too frazzled to refuse.

“What I can do, what I will do–” his hand comes to the point of your chin, holds it gently between his fingers like glass.

His gaze falls to your lips, and you try to ignore it.

“Is keep you safe. Here. With me.”

You’d have laughed if you didn’t believe everything he’d just said.

It all just made sense to you.

The lavish gifts, the people watching you that you hadn’t dared notice before because you’re just being paranoid. The hard glares Vincent would grant to all that passed you by in the rooms of higher society.

And now, everything shatters. You cry.

“Oh, non, mon Cher, don’t cry–” Vincent moves to wipe the tears from your cheeks, but you pull away. Retract from his kindness.

"You're insane–" you’re breathless, gasping between sobs

"Not insane.” VIncent tells you. He stands so he’s perfectly level with you, his eyes piercing yours. And, just as he had many times before in your presence, he smiles. Genuine and heartfelt. Then, a statement. A declaration.

“Just… in love.”

[eyes-onthehorizon]

fic tag game!

Tagged by the incredibly talented and ridiculously patient @claudiajcregg - thank you for the tag Elena! (sorry for the 4-month late belated reply!)

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written fewer than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

i saw that Elena tagged me, had only two works to my name, went away and wrote a bunch more only to forget about the tag game in the process. so, uh, please accept my contribution? (and go read her fic. it’s beautiful and heartbreaking and written with such care!)

fandoms i’ve written for so far: Anastasia, The West Wing, The Diplomat (US), The Old Guard. i’ve included the summaries in case you wanna read more.

i’m paraphrasing Elena’s wording here, it’s much neater than mine: @beepbeepsan @loungemermaid and literally anyone else who sees this and wants to join in! Feel free to ignore it if you don't want to do it, or if you've been already been tagged, etc. ♥️

1. Just In Time - Anastasia

The first time they’re on a boat, the tempest and Rasputin’s magic conspire to throw her overboard.

Dmitry arrives just in time.

2. The Consequences of Aristocracy - Anastasia

"You will bow before the Princess," barked the orderly.

Anya has been crowned as the Lost Princess, and Dmitry pays the Dowager Queen a visit. Anya catches him as he leaves, but it seems her new life has come between them.

What might have been running through their heads, and what should have happened after.

3. Everything Was Won - Anastasia

The second time they’re on a boat, Dmitry can’t believe his eyes or his luck.

Dmitry reflects on his relationship with Anya at the end of the film.

4. Something Else Hoc - The West Wing

Author’s note: There are 35 chapters in this work, and each chapter is freestanding. I have so many favourite opening lines; I’ve pared down as much as I can bear. Sorry! (I’m not)

CJ Cregg was radiant, and Danny could not take his eyes off her.

“Carol!”

“Don-NA!”

It was the final day of junior year, and Jed was being his usual dorky self.

"...I do NOT have anitch!!" slurred Mallory. 

CJ frowned at the badly-wrapped presents.

Sam had walked up to Mallory, wordlessly handed her a glass bottle, and continued down the corridor as if it was a perfectly ordinary part of his day.

Joshua Lyman had a competitive streak a mile wide, and an infectious enthusiasm that alternately inspired and frustrated everyone around him.

The beach was supposed to be a place for relaxation.

“Leo! Did I blink or fall over or something while you replaced my senior staff with muppets?!”

It is a truth universally acknowledged that the President of the United States cheated at sports.

“I’ve had enough of your airy-fairy bullshit!”

Charlie had this… recurring nightmare.

Will and Sam only ever go on one date.

It wasn’t supposed to be a pool party.

It was the Rock the Vote concert again, and none of them were young enough to go and do the speech any more.

Claudia-Jean Cregg was a woman of many talents.

It’s not something they share with anyone, but they talk to each other whenever they see pink skies.

Annabeth Schott was like champagne bubbles, Leo decided.

Liz becomes a little obsessed with Friends after Doug loses the election.

a series of one-shots of my favourite overworked family, sparked by tumblr prompts. mostly canon-compliant. i apologise in advance.

5. Two’s Better Than One - The Diplomat (US)

Having met Cecelia a grant total of once - this being the once in question - Stuart found himself in danger of losing his eyebrows.

Stuart weighs up some pros and cons of his boss's love life.

6. It’s Not About To End - The Diplomat (US)

Stuart was used to being momentarily stunned.

Stuart's internal monologue from the break-up scene.

7. I Think It Just Did - The Diplomat (US)

Eidra was the kind of person who planned for the worst and hoped for slightly better.

Eidra's internal monologue from the break-up scene.

8. February is a Month Like Any Other - The Old Guard

Author’s Note: This series is in desperate need of editing. You’re welcome to have a read, but it is not in it’s final or even an acceptable form imo.

Nicholas Governor was bored out of his mind.

a drabble-a-day fic for the month of February. the old guard are the progenitors of something not yet known as team leverage; they are conning a lecherous, powerful man to his doom.

9. You Can’t Spell Team without Tea - The Old Guard

So much had changed since that fateful day in England, Andy included, but tea had not.

Quynh reflects on this new part of her life.

10. Echoes of Our Past - The Old Guard

Nile has been trying to explain gaydar (and GPS, and radar, and sonar, and how portmanteaus work in modern English) to Quynh for a few minutes before she gives up entirely.

Nile tries to explain gaydar to Quynh, and Nicky loses a bet. Part 2 to You Can't Spell Team Without Tea

[ladymazzy]

I, for one, will forever wish that Diane Abbott had never written that cursed, ahistorical, plain weird letter to the Observer. In a couple of short paragraphs, she presented a half baked semantic analysis of what 'racism' means (never a good idea to try that in a short comment letter when there are 80k word doctoral theses on the subject that wrestle with socio-historical nuances of 'race' 'ethnicity' 'xenophobia' etc), and seemingly forgot the Holocaust happened - nevermind the preceeding centuries of European antisemitism, anti-Roma and anti-Irish rhetoric & policies

Abbott's apology was swift, and whilst I'm also wondering what the hell could have possessed her to think 'yup, this'll do' and click send, I can't help but notice that so many people gleefully commenting are doing so as if she didn't immediately apologise and reject everything she said in the letter. Not to mention lose the labour whip and be subject to another round of hate messages. People like Petronella Wyatt - who, just a few days ago was busy telling the world that golliwogs are fine and not racist at all actually - are now busy telling us about how Diane Abbott is the most dangerous, most racist person in the country. Bad faith bad takes everywhere I look

And I can barely stomach listening to Keef pontificating about how she's wrong; the man clearly doesn't understand why what she said was wrong. There's no consistency in any of his responses to situations like these. He has the does-not-get-it vibe of the sort of 'moderate centrist' who would try to call someone out for calling a Black person 'Black'

Reading the article she was responding to (by Tomiwa Owolade), he undoubtedly downplays the impact of racism on the lives of Black and Asian people in the UK. His opinion piece has all kinds of issues. For example, he conflates the idea that a higher percentage of GRT survey respondents than Black respondents reported experiencing racist attacks, with the idea that it immeadiately corrolates to Black people not experiencing as much discrimination. This is simplistic and concerning for the way it downplays the experiences of Black people who may, for example, under-report 'attacks', or may experience other forms of discrimination that could described in different terms. I mean, just this week there's a campaign running to highlight the issue of disproportionately high rates of maternal and neonatal mortality across the Black and South Asian communities. Not to mention the revelations about the enthusiasm with which the Met performs strip searches on Black children

The rebuttal to Owolade's piece does not depend upon the erasure of the Jewish and GRT experience of both systemic and interpersonal discrimination. This is not a zero-sum game

It should be easy enough to say something like 'racism is not so black and white in the UK; there are multiple minority ethnic groups who are each marginalised by discrimination, and each one has a particular history and legacy that needs to be understood when tackling racism'

Instead, Abbott said what she said (and then apologised!). We live in a febrile hell in which we've collectively suffered so much and are so ignorant of our histories that the reaction too often leans into needless, nonsensical comparisons, defensiveness and erasure

Meanwhile, the arbiters of all this - the establishment and all those who seek to profit from or defend white supremacism - can relax, safe in the knowledge that divide and conquer works every time

[spilledkauffie]

Where You're Going

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Female!Reader Word Count: 2.0k T/W: argument then fluff A/N: sorry this took me so long! (also, I am awful at titles, I apologise)

for this request ❤︎

The Sanctum was quiet save two voices going back and forth in a banter unfamiliar to the halls. They echoed around the old structure and were carried off with gusts of wind that managed to find their way past the old boards and into the interior. When you had first arrived earlier that day it had been silent, but now you contributed to half of the echoes.

“All I’m saying is that maybe you could have thought about it before just leaving without a second’s notice to me, or anything,” you said, following Stephen around the Sanctum, as he refused to stay in one place while you addressed him; arguments were petty to him and he most of all didn’t like having them with you, “I mean. . .didn’t you even think how that would make me feel? Just having you gone, no idea where in the world- the universe- you could be?”

Stephen groaned, making his way to the grand staircase, “isn’t that where trust comes in?”

“I trust you, Stephen, what I’m asking is that you imagine how I feel, the worry, the anxiety, the concern when you just disappear,” you tried again, gesturing with your hands, despite the fact that his back was turned to you still.

“Well, I’m sorry I don’t get as wildly emotional as you,” he states with a tone of false enthusiasm, slowly turning around to see you, knowing you’d stop in your tracks.

Your lips part at the wound he just made and your eyebrows furrowed together in a mixture of frustration and hurt. Stephen didn’t stop there though, seeing your shocked expression.

“Yes, I said it,” he shrugs and feigns a gasp, “you’re always attaching yourself so easily and only to wind up getting yourself hurt due to your own lack of judgement and susceptible emotions, that you clearly do not have control over just like nearly everything else in your life; you need to think-”

“I thought you’d understand, because that’s what people who care about each other do,” you crossed your arms, “they worry about each other.”

“You need to stop holding on so closely,” he said, sounding bored with the conversation.

Pressing your lips together, you knew the usual next step, your eyes began to prickle with tears, but you held them back as you shook your head. There was so much you wanted to say, you wanted the perfect comeback, but you simply met his gaze knowing that you couldn’t win arguments with him. He needed to have a self realisation to understand what you were saying.

“Well,” you nod, “at least I’m trying to hold onto the things dearest to me instead of pushing them away.”

With that Stephen dropped his shoulders, it was his turn to have the moment of shock. Meeting your gaze was harder than ever while you were on the brink of tears. In that moment, your silence was louder than anything. Glancing down, you blinked, taking a deep breath as you turned your steps away from him and up the Sanctum stairs, hugging yourself. Leaving him at the bottom, alone.

“Shit,” he closed his eyes and lowered his head.

You walked until you didn’t know where you were anymore; the Sanctum had so many different halls and stairs that seemed to go on forever. You didn’t even look up until a particular room seemed to call to you; it had three panels, each divided in two. There were beautiful locations displayed in each one, places you’d always wanted to go and some places you had no idea where they were, but they were all beautiful and peaceful, the sounds were calming. It was an atmosphere all its own, and it was so inviting.

Stepping into the large room, you did so with caution knowing everything had some kind of magic to it. But when you came to the centre of the room, you couldn’t find any danger, so you decided to stay a while, and try to ease your mind. Lowering yourself to the floor, you sat with your legs crossed and glanced around at the scenery. Imagining that it would make you feel better, it somehow made you have a deeper self-reflection.

The words from earlier came back to the forefront of your mind. Maybe you were too emotional, maybe you didn’t have a handle on anything, maybe you were just trying too hard with him. Alone now, you didn’t even try to avoid the tears welling in your eyes. It hurt to hear those comments, especially coming from the one person you loved most. The first few tears rolled down your cheek, lazily and heavily. But the more you thought the harder they fell, and you did nothing to stop it, only swiping a few times with the cuff of your sleeve to try and deter them from falling any further, to no avail. You sat surrounded by the quiet calmness, feeling like the storm in the middle of it…

Walking nearly everywhere around the Sanctum, Stephen tried to find you, having done some inner reflection himself. He knew he only said what he did out of defence, and unjustly projected it onto you. He wasn’t the easiest person to get so close to and he was no help to himself for not letting people in easily; he hated that it included you too. Normally a few harsh words didn’t bother him, he didn’t mind being brutally honest with most people, but when it came to you it was all different, and he knew it wasn’t honesty either.

Stephen was walking down the hallway, shifting his hands together, mentally practising his apology, when he stopped upon hearing soft sniffles and heavy sighs in between crying. Turning his head to listen better, he made very soft steps towards the room you were in. He could tell from the movement of your shoulders and the manner in which you were curled into yourself that you had been crying for a while and he was catching the tail end of it. You were trying to stop, but the tears weren’t through yet and now it was almost more heartbreaking to see you fully engulfed in the hurt, even if you wanted to be out of it.

Pressing his palms together, he very quietly entered. When he came to your side, you turned your head away immediately, still hiccuping a little and wiping your tears away best you could, while attempting to calm your breathing pattern. As you tucked your knees into your chest, he sat down next to you, hands in his lap, staring down at them.

“Rotunda of Gateways,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence, looking around at the panels, observing that you must have figured out how to change them as they were now all your favourite places, it made him smile for a brief moment, having never taken the true beauty of the room in before you, much like several other things in his lfie.

“I thought about walking through one,” you admit, voice shaky and clinging onto strength, hugging your knees tighter to yourself, resting your chin on your arms you’d crossed over your legs.

Another pause followed. Stephen looked to you, while you continued to stare straight ahead, he saw a few more delayed tears roll down your cheek, there was an apathetic look on your face; you knew you had to ride out the emotion when it hit so hard and there was no way out. He hated knowing that he caused it

“Listen,” he started, looking down, “I want to say something, regarding myself earlier.”

“Stephen,” you sigh, not wanting to enter another argument “it’s o-“

“No, it’s not,” he said, surprisingly gently, this time looking to you determinedly until you met his gaze, “I need you to know this: I am so sorry for what I said. I took out my insecurity on you…,” he breathed, before continuing, this was not easy for him, but he knew you were worth going beyond his comfort zone, “I’m not used to having someone care this much about me, and I’m not good with letting people in…actually in. Sometimes I forget that it’s a two-way street,” he tries to add a chuckle, but it fades quickly, “I just get defensive when people try to care. I think, I know, that I push people away, but I never meant to push you away.”

“You don’t have to be defensive with me, Stephen, I love you and that’s not changing,” you made sure he understood that, “but you can be really mean when you want to be…and it hurts,” your voice chokes, “a lot. Because I just love you so much.” You turned your head away to hide your quivering lip and more tears.

Nodding in agreement and regret, there’s nothing he could deny, “I know,” he says hoarsely, “if I could go back-“

“You could,” you shrug, with a fake smile.

He shakes his head with a smirk, picking up on your suggestion, looking down again, and speaking softly, “I promised I’d never to use magic when it came to you, because you could never need it. I take accountability for my errors, no matter the cost,” the next time his eyes met yours they were lined with tears of their own, “please, forgive me…I don’t want to lose you.”

A small smile pulls at the corner of your lips. Taking a deep breath, you nod and reach a hand out to one of his, which you can feel a tremble in, “who’s emotional now?” You say with a little laugh that sounds like a sigh, feeling his hand squeeze yours.

“I love you far too much to deny it now,” the corner of his lip twitches a smile for only a moment, “I’m so sorry.”

“We can get past this,” you nod, rubbing your thumb against the back of his hand, “let’s just try to be more open, it’s okay. I won’t hurt you, I promise. And…just let me know where you’re going, so I don’t worry that it’ll be another five years when you just disappear and then it turns out you’re just visiting Hong Kong.”

Nodding along with you in silence, you eventually break a smile, encouraging him to follow suit.

“So, I should probably tell you that… I’ll be going to the kitchen later, and then going to bed, probably, at some point, and then-”

“Stop,” you shake your head smiling a little wider now, wiping away some tears, before resting your head against his shoulder, “that’s not what I meant, just anything out of the country, and off world, that’s a must know, please.”

“Okay,” Stephen agrees, wrapping his arm around you, “I’ll let you know next time I have to go to Pluto for more ice.”

“Stephen,” you tap his chest, both loving and hating that he could make you laugh after you’d cried so easily, “I’m serious.”

“Alright, alright,” he gives in, “I will let you know, just promise you won’t go anywhere either?”

“I promise,” you look up through your eyelashes at him.

This time there was quiet, but the tension was lost. It was a moment of appreciation that through the tough times you knew you could withstand it, afterall the world had seen worse. It was just when you Stephen ducked his head and caressed the side of your neck with his hand that suddenly the cloak appeared around both of you, only making you giggle.

“Oh for Heaven’s sake,” Stephen sighs, feeling the cloak try to snuggle both of you closer together, “he needs to learn to be less clingy,” Stephen whispers to you.

“Aww, he just loves you,” you add, wrapping your arms around his torso.

“Well, he was kind of interrupting,” Stephen tilts his head, still speaking quietly.

“Really?” You whisper teasingly, “I wasn’t sure where you were going, you didn’t tell me.”

“Wow,” Stephen draws out deeply, looking away for a moment, before returning with a smile at your witty remark, “I don’t think I need to tell you, but I’m going to kiss you now."

"I was going to say the same thing," you smile.

His eyes shift from your lips to your eyes, "I love you."

[kurowrites]

Betting On You - Part II

Hhhhh, this has been frustrating me ever since I wrote part I. Idk, idk.

Previous part

---

Wei Ying and A-Yuan spent a long time in the bathtub, making sure they were all warmed up and clean before they finally stepped out. (Well, were lifted out in the case of A-Yuan.)

Wei Ying picked out the fluffiest towel they owned and wrapped A-Yuan in it, scrubbing him dry.

When he removed the towel, A-Yuan’s hair was sticking up in all directions.

“Look at this little radish!” Wei Ying laughed as he tousled A-Yuan’s hair. “He even has little leaves!”

A-Yuan protested and removed Wei Ying’s hand, but a moment later, he wrapped around Wei Ying’s leg in an attempt to get Wei Ying to dress him.

Technically, A-Yuan was old enough to put on at least the simpler pieces of his clothing on his own, but he hadn’t been feeling well today. Wei Ying, though exhausted himself, didn’t feel it was the right moment to insist on A-Yuan doing it himself, and helped the little radish out. He got out the nice red pyjamas that Wen Qing got him for his last birthday, and wrestled A-Yuan into it.

He had just slipped into a pair of sweatpants himself when the doorbell rang. In a hurry, he grabbed his shirt and clumsily pulled it over his head as he ran to the door of the apartment.

As he should have expected, their wet, soggy laundry and shoes still lay abandoned in front of the door. Wei Ying hastily pushed them to the side as best as he could, so that he could open the door and hide the mountain of dirty clothing behind it, keeping it out of view.

When he opened the door, Lan Zhan stood in the door frame, as stoic, handsome, and well put together as ever. Wei Ying had the nonsensical impulse to check his own appearance to make sure he was decent, but that was a lost case by now. He had barely managed to slip into a shirt, his long hair not brushed out yet.

“Lan Zhan,” he said, a little more breathlessly than he’d intended to.

“Hn,” Lan Zhan replied, and held up a large pot that Wei Ying only noticed when Lan Zhan brought it to his attention. “Soup.”

Wei Ying’s eyes widened. Had Lan Zhan actually made soup for them?

That was… far nicer than anything Wei Ying had expected. He’d maybe expected Lan Zhan to bring over some instant soup or something. But on second thought, Lan Zhan didn’t seem to be the type to eat instant soup. Ever.

“Oh!” Wei Ying cried out, suddenly remembering that he’d been taught manners at some point in his life, instead of just staring dumbly at the pot. Quickly, he waved Lan Zhan into the apartment. “Come in, come in! Please, feel free to join us! It’s very messy right now, but you know how it is. I always need to make sure we’re on time in the morning, so I only really get to clean up at night. Oh, the kitchen is over here, I think the layout is different from your apartment, no? Yours is bigger.”

“Hn,” Lan Zhan slowly agreed, after taking off his shoes, careful to evade the sea of water escaping from the bundle of wet clothes behind the door, and stepping into the apartment proper. “I converted one of the rooms into a music room.”

“Right, music teacher,” Wei Ying smiled. “A-Yuan enjoys your music, occasionally. Though we don’t always hear it.”

“The room is soundproofed,” Lan Zhan replied. “I sometimes play with the window open. I apologise.”

“Don’t apologise!” Wei Ying cried as he provided Lan Zhan with a space on his stove to put the pot of soup down. “We enjoy it. Definitely better than the stuff that usually plays on the radio. Or the shit people try to market as ‘appropriate for children.’”

Lan Zhan only hummed in reply, but Wei Ying was almost sure that he looked pleased.

Heh. Even Lan Zhan wasn’t above a little self-satisfaction now and then, apparently.

“Little radish!” he called out. “Come here, Lan Zhan brought us some soup! It’s dinner time!”

A moment later, A-Yuan toddled into the kitchen and firmly attached himself to Wei Ying’s leg. But despite his apparent shyness about the ‘stranger’ standing in his kitchen, he stared up at Lan Zhan with big, curious eyes.

“Say ‘thank you for the meal,’” Wei Ying encouraged him. He might not be the best father out there, but no one could accuse him of not teaching his son some manners. Those that actually made sense, that was.

“Thank you for the meal,” A-Yuan recited obediently, though he remained firmly attached to Wei Ying’s leg and kept looking up at Lan Zhan with what Wei Ying started to suspect was awe.

It was kind of cute, honestly, because A-Yuan didn’t have too many adults in his life, apart from Wei Ying, the staff at the nursery, and rare visits with Wen Qing. It was good to have positive role models in his life, and Lan Zhan was probably as good as they came. It was also a little troubling to Wei Ying, because A-Yuan’s open admiration made Wei Ying feel like he was somehow lacking as a father. It was a ridiculous notion, because he would not want to be like Lan Zhan, but the feeling was there, still. He knew he couldn’t be everything for A-Yuan. But his emotions were not that easily subdued by reason. He knew he wasn’t the ideal choice for an adoptive parent, anyway, and that he would never be a replacement for A-Yuan’s birth parents.

“It is of no consequence,” Lan Zhan replied seriously, startling Wei Ying out of his morose thoughts. “I offered.”

Wei Ying smiled.

“It means a lot to me,” he emphasised, and waddled over to the kitchen cabinets, A-Yuan still attached to his leg. He reached for the soup bowls and started to unload everything onto their dining table.

“Want to eat with us?” he asked Lan Zhan, waving one of the bowls under his nose.

He’d honestly expected Lan Zhan to politely excuse himself and leave at the first opportunity, but to Wei Ying’s surprise, Lan Zhan simply nodded, helped with setting the table, and then sat down to join them during their meal.

And that was how Wei Ying and A-Yuan ended up eating dinner together with Lan Zhan.

It was almost surreal, to have Lan Zhan in this familiar, currently rather messy environment. But it wasn’t uncomfortable by any means. On the contrary, Lan Zhan was a strangely nice and surprisingly interesting dinner guest, and Wei Ying suspected that it was due to his presence that A-Yuan was on his best behaviour. Wei Ying didn’t need to remind him even once not to play with his food! If only that happened during all of their meals.  

To be honest, it was not that easy to get Lan Zhan to speak in the beginning, and convince him to tell them stories about his work as a music teacher. But he made his silence up with being an excellent listener, sometimes listening to A-Yuan’s occasionally nonsensical stories with more earnestness than even Wei Ying was able to fake. And Wei Ying had a lot of practice in faking it.

Wei Ying mostly felt grateful for Lan Zhan’s efforts, because it meant that he was off the hook, for once. He could just sit there, eat his soup, grin at Lan Zhan when A-Yuan said something particularly nonsensical, and not worry about the rest.

And when Lan Zhan finally decided to tell them a few stories of his own, both he and A-Yuan listened to him with genuine interest and no small bit of fascination. For such a taciturn man, he was a surprisingly good storyteller. A certain sense of wit shone through his every word that Wei Ying enjoyed greatly, and that had him laughing out loud more than just once.

All too soon, they were finished with their meal, and it was time for A-Yuan to go to bed. A-Yuan had already started to lag at the dinner table, and so brushing his teeth and putting him to bed was a fairly short and painless process that evening, despite the excitement that an unknown guest had brought.

Lan Zhan, on the other hand, had insisted on helping with the clean-up, and so he stayed and assisted Wei Ying with the kitchen even after A-Yuan had been brought to bed and fallen asleep. Wei Ying had to almost physically keep him from doing all of the clean-up, and insisted to wash the dishes himself.

And so they had ended next to each other at the kitchen counter, Wei Ying washing the dishes, and Lan Zhan drying them.

It was an odd situation.

Wei Ying suddenly realised that he had never been alone with Lan Zhan before that moment. Whenever they had met before, it was usually when Wei Ying was going out of their apartment block or returning home with A-Yuan. Their interactions had usually been short and to the point, and Wei Ying had elected to think of Lan Zhan however he pleased.

It hadn’t been like this.

He suddenly felt himself growing shy, which was all kinds of ridiculous, because nothing was different from before. Why was he suddenly having feelings about this?

Luckily, Lan Zhan didn’t seem to notice how the mood in the room had suddenly shifted, and continued to stoically dry the dishes and carefully set them aside once they were properly dried.

When the kitchen was clean and all tasks were finished, Lan Zhan hung up his towel to dry, nodded once to himself, and then announced, “I should head home.”

Wei Ying stifled a sigh of mixed relief and regret, and led Lan Zhan to the door of the apartment.

“Thank you,” he said as Lan Zhan slipped into his shoes. “You were a true lifesaver today. Both with the soup and for keeping A-Yuan company.”

Lan Zhan rose up from tying his shoes (who did that, it was only a few metres to his own apartment) and stretched to his full height (which was impressive, he was taller than Wei Ying). He looked at Wei Ying for several long and agonising (for Wei Ying) moments.

“No need for thanks,” Lan Zhan replied. “I would not have offered if it had been an inconvenience. A-Yuan is a good child.”

Wei Ying couldn’t help the little glow of pride and happiness that rose up in his chest. A-Yuan was the best child, and he was lucky to be his father!

He said as much to Lan Zhan, and unless Wei Ying’s eyes started to play tricks on him now, his enthusiasm was answered by the tiniest little smile.

“Good night, Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan said, that smile still present in the corners of his mouth.

Wei Ying felt he liked when Lan Zhan said his name like that.

And then, Lan Zhan reached out, and gently brushed one messy strand of hair out of Wei Ying’s face.  

“Please make sure to take care of yourself, as well.”

And with that, he turned around and left, the apartment door falling shut silently behind him.

Wei Ying stood in front of the closed entrance door for several dumbfounded moments.

Did that just–

Was that–

Lan Zhan–

He let out a garbled sound, remembered that A-Yuan was asleep, and quickly turned towards the wet clothes still piled up in the entrance.

He wasn’t going to sleep.

Might as well do some washing.

 Dammit.

[formenis]

From knight to detective

Anon asked: “ Can you do a scenario of L having a relationship with reader and she doesn't know that he is L and she is part of the Task Force that show up to meet L and she is unprepared for finding out he is L and when he talks to her privately he tells her everything“.

A/N: sure thing, dear. Gosh, I’m not capable of sum up...I always write too much eheh. I have to remind you English is not my first language so I apologise for the mistakes you’ll find for sure.

pairing: L x FBI agent!fem!reader

warnings: nope

requested: yes

F/P = favourite painter

S/C = skin colour

It all started during the "Wara Ningyo Murders" or -as police knew it- the "Los Angeles BB Serial Murder Cases". Y/N and Naomi Misora were friends back in the States, both of them were skilful and quite cherished in the FBI headquarters. The resulting capture of the murderer of this case helped launch Naomi's reputation within the FBI.

«So how was working with the best detective alive?» Y/N and her friend Naomi were drinking a coffee together in one of their rare spare moments far from work.

«I don’t know if I can talk about it, Y/N» Naomi replied with a sympathetic smile.

«Oh come on! At least what his voice sounds like»

«Again, I don’t know. He used voice changers during our calls. But!» she said with enthusiasm and Y/N frowned in confusion. «I met someone you would like»

«Who?»

That was when Y/N met "Ryuzaki", an enigmatic and mysterious young man who had the hobby of solving cases like private or consulting detectives. Since Y/N was a FBI agent and Ryuzaki a private detective, they would meet many times in crime scenes. The young agent felt like she was Dr. Watson and Ryuzaki was Sherlock Holmes: he would theorize many possible scenarios for the above-mentioned case and Y/N listened to him in disbelief. But Ryuzaki was not the sole smart one, Y/N had a shrewd mind too: her unique methods of investigation and her strong power of observation made her one of the best FBI agents. That was why Ryuzaki started to request her presence and assistance more often.

«Good evening, Miss L/N»

«Ryuzaki! I told you to call me Y/N. There's no need for such formalities» she chuckled quietly, the two of them were on a crime scene again.

«I apologise, force of habit I guess» Ryuzaki played with his pale lips using the thumb. Y/N understood Ryuzaki's way of communicating with his body: if he played with his lips (like he was doing in that moment) it meant he was deep in through; if he stared emotionless at something, it meant he was bothered by something; or if he ate more sweets than usual it meant that the investigations were in a turning point and his brain needed more "fuel". That was easy for Y/N to understand those things, it was her job after all.

«What are you thinking of, Ryuzaki?»

The young man seemed surprised. «Ah, it seems I don’t have secrets for you, Y/N»

She chuckled again. «Nope»

Y/N couldn’t know it but she was wrong. Terribly wrong. However, as time passed the two of them grew quite closer. Not only because of work but because they somehow matched each other. Very often Y/N would move up Ryuzaki in many things, they would think the same thing and they worried for each other during difficult and risky cases. Soon enough Y/N started to develop feeling for that weird, clever boy but she didn’t know it the feelings were mutual. Ryuzaki seemed without emotions as if nothing touched him. Even in the most terrible crime scene he would not be that shocked as anybody else.

Unaware of Y/N, there was a very simple explanation for that attitude of his: Ryuzaki was feeling overwhelmed. He was very good at not showing it but the truth was that something changed in him. At first he treated Y/N as a common FBI agent, neither kind not bad. Their relationship was purely linked to work. But then week after week, case after case, Y/N dusted a forgotten trait of his personality.

«Agent Y/N, would you like to join me in an exhibit? I heard from Miss Misora you like F/P»

«But it is private, Ryuzaki. You have to have the tickets»

«It just so happens that I have two tickets with me. The senior manager is a friend of mine»

«Really?» Y/N said surprised. «I would love to, Ryuzaki!»

Ryuzaki smiled in seeing such happiness in his cute FBI agent. The exhibit would be the perfect chance to understand if what he felt for Y/N was mutual.

♰ TIME SKIP ♰

Ah, the exhibit. Such a wonderful place. Y/N loved everything about it: the guide, the paintings and Ryuzaki's company of course. Moreover, it was the exhibit of F/P, Y/N's best artist. She was in bliss.

Once the guide ended the tour, the guesses could roam around the place to have a better look at each artwork. Ryuzaki expressed his approval to a specific painting, a still life to be precise. And when he noticed Y/N liked it too he started to describe the history of the said painting.

His voice enchanted Y/N. So deep despite Ryuzaki's young age and extremely alluring. She would listen to him for hours if it was possible. Y/N was so focused in it that she didn’t noticed Ryuzaki asked her something.

«Uh? What did you say?»

«I said, Y/N…are you enjoying the evening?» Ryuzaki was sitting in front of that still life in his usual position, with the legs pressed the chest. Y/N was beside him.

«Yes, a lot. Thank you Ryuzaki» she smiled kindly at him and it forced the young detective to look away. Then he started to play nervously with his lips. «Something is bothering you?»

«I have a confession to make, Y/N»

Oh dear, no. At that phrase, Y/N started to panic. Was he tired of her company? Did she do something wrong? Did he want to stop working together? So many questions span inside Y/N's mind.

«Yes?» she tried to stay as much calm as possible, hoping her voice would not betray her.

«We met a while ago and I have to admit I really appreciate your presence. Both as an agent and as a person. I would like to become closer to you, if you agree» he turned to look at her. His black eyes were much gentler than usual, his look full of…happiness? Y/N couldn’t tell.

She blushed, her face was as red as the apples in the still life painted in front of them. She noticed that Ryuzaki extended a hand waiting for her answer. «Of course, Ryuzaki»

Y/N put her hand over his and he kissed on the hand gently. This made Y/N blush even more, now she was truly one of those red apples.

And with that, they set off the beginning of their relationship. Outside work Ryuzaki was a really romantic person: he would rub Y/N's shoulders (he was really good with massages); he would play with her silky H/C hair while thinking or he would simply listen to her after a stressful day at work.

«You can call me whenever you want. Even if there's no reason to, Y/N» and «I like how your hands fit perfectly in mines» were the most romantic things Y/N heard from Ryuzaki. She even wrote them down in her personal agenda.

More time passed and December 2003 came fast. For some time now, criminals from all around the would were dying of heart attacks at an unprecedented rate and all law enforcements were concerned and scared but this. Thanks to some colleagues, Y/N learnt that the greatest detective L was mentioned in one of the many Interpol meetings.

L was considered the best detective in the world. He solved the most complex of cases, even ones that were considered unsolvable. The problem was that nobody knows who L was. And if they existed. According to Naomi Misora they were real and this L was worth their title. It was in that moment that Y/N made a decision: as a FBI agent, she would take part at that case. In Japan, people started to call the main responsible of these killings "Kira" and she couldn’t wait to start the investigations.

«Ryu, I have to tell you something…»

«What is it, Y/N?»  

They were on the phone, as often happened when the two of them had work up to their necks.

«I applied for the Kira case. I want to be a part of the task-force»

Silence.

For five minutes neither of them dared to speak. Y/N was waiting for an answer, she was chewing nervously her lips. After a while she heard a sigh.

«Y/N, it's dangerous. It's better if you stay in the States»

«But Ryuzaki! I want to be helpful! You know I can't stay here while there's some mad serial killer around the world that kills with the force of their mind»

«Y/N, such things don’t exist»

«Don’t change the topic, Ryu»

Again, silence. Y/N bet Ryuzaki was playing with his lips as much as she was chewing hers. She knew he was worried for her but she couldn’t stay at home doing nothing. She had to do something.

«Please, Y/N. Consider it again. The Kira case is too much…»

«Ryu, I'm a decorated FBI agent, I can take care of myself. You don’t need to worry»

For the third time, the call fell silent. Ryuzaki was thinking for sure, Y/N could hear the soft sound of him chewing his thumb. «Promise me you'll be careful» he interrupted the silence with his usual emotionless voice.

«Of course I will»

This allowed Y/N to fly to Japan more lightweight knowing Ryuzaki was by her side despite the distance. But another big event was waiting for her: the first meeting with L.

♰ TIME SKIP ♰

After many ordeals (like the death of Y/N's friend Naomi Misora), the main Japanese task-force against Kira was formed: Soichiro Yagami, Touta Matsuda, Hirokazu Ukita, Hideki Ide, Shuichi Aizawa and Kanzo Mogi. And of course Y/N L/N. It was New Year's Eve when the task-force received a message from L:

"I would like to meet the seven of you who have my trust as soon as possible. Do not speak of our meeting, or having met me, or what we will be doing, to anyone who is not in the room now.

Please leave the NPA building to discuss whether you can swear to the above, and whether you can trust me. Only those who agree to work with me in this investigation shall return to the room, and I will send my further conditions for our meeting to this computer."

That was it! The moment Y/N was waiting for a long time! As L explained in other notes left in the laptop, the entire task-force arrived at a luxury hotel where they knocked at the door of a room and were asked to enter. They were about to meet L.

"Oh gosh I'm so nervous!" Y/N though while staying behind the rest of the task-force. Her heart was racing fast and she couldn’t hide the excitement. We were talking about the greatest detective alive after all.

"I wonder…who gave them that title?"

Pink wall-to-wall carpeting, beige couches with red pillows and luxurious black doors. That was the aspect of L's room. From where Y/N was standing she could only see the furniture of that room but she petrified when she heard his voice.

«I am L»

Y/N went pale in one second. The excitement was soon replaced by fear and later by anger. But she had to be sure, she needed to see him. Maybe Y/N missed Ryuzaki to such a point that she heard his voice everywhere.

No, there must be something else. Ryuzaki's voice was too unique and peculiar to be confused with another one. There must be him for sure. And once Y/N made her way through those men, she had the certainty that she had Ryuzaki in front of her.

«Please turn off your cell phones, laptops, and any other electronic equipment you may have, and place them on the table first»

«You think we might have our cell phones on talk mode so someone outside could monitor our conversation…?» Aizawa asked quite annoyed.

"No, he hates when phones rings if he is talking…" Y/N though while doing as L said. She had to maintain a professional attitude despite she was boiling inside. She wanted to cry but to punch Ryuzaki at the same time.

«It's not that. I can't stand it when someone's cell phone rings when I'm talking» the detective replied while "sitting" in one of those fancy armchairs. «But before discussing about the case, I would rather have a talk with agent L/N in private»

The task-force moved in another part of room so Y/N and Ryuzaki would be alone. Silence filled the room, an anger and disappointed silence to be precise. They were still wearing their professional masks.

«Why didn’t you tell me…» Y/N was the first to give in. Her hands were curled into fists, the way her body tremble suggested rage or a desperate effort not to cry. L was aware Y/N was going to lose control if he didn’t explain himself.

«I couldn’t Y/N…you know very well I couldn’t»

«Of course you can! It costs nothing, Ryuzaki. Just few words!» that was it, Y/N lost control.

«What should I have said then? Something like "Hello I'm L, the greatest detective in the world and I think I developed strong feelings for you"» Y/N was going to answer back but L interrupted her by raising the index. «Everything about L is dangerous. My words, my actions, my presence…they all are dangerous for other people. That's why I work alone, Y/N»

«But you weren’t alone when we worked together» now sadness was taking place in Y/N's mind instead of anger. She felt so betrayed.

«It was different back then, Y/N. They were simple cases, neither me nor you were in danger. But this case…Kira is the symbol of danger and injustice, Y/N. I don’t want you to be involved»

«I'm already involved, Ryuzaki. And like it or not, I'm going to the bottom of this» the young FBI agent replied with determination but hot tears started to form on her eyes, clouding partially her sight. «I just…wanted you to be sincere with me» those tears fell over her smooth S/C cheeks.

L, seeing that scene in front of him, felt very bad for his Y/N. That was why he didn’t want her to be involved: he couldn’t bare crying people. But not because he hated them but because he didn’t know what to do, how to soothe that suffering. And the sight of Y/N crying in front of him broke his heart.

He stood up and walked closer to Y/N. And when he hugged her she gasped loudly, meaning she didn’t notice him approaching her. She stopped crying, yes, but sadness was still there.

«I…I'm sorry Y/N. My only intent was to protect you. I know you don’t need a knight in shining armour but when this case came out I knew I had to do something. Maybe you would hate me for the rest of your life but if it meant you would live it was alright. So please…realise there wasn’t malice in my actions»

Y/N hugged him back, smelling the sweet scent of his white shirt. The warmth of his body and the heartbeat were so calming, sadness melted in a matter of seconds. They stood there for entire minutes not moving, just appreciating each other presence.

«You're right, I don’t need a knight in shining armour…I want a detective in a white shirt»

L chuckled and that sound sent chills down Y/N's spine. Gosh, she missed that sound.

«Here I am»

«Do not keep secrets from me, Ryu»

«Never again»

[laniidae-passerine]

okay went back to long post 2.0 and the Pictionary concept so now I’m going to create an insanely long list of Pictionary pair-ups and how they’d work in the cottage on game night

Here are all the people I presume would be allowed in for game night:

Reynie, Sticky, Kate, Constance, Martina, S.Q, Jackson, Jillson, Mr Benedict, Number Two, Rhonda, Milligan, Miss Perumal

Here we go! Reminder: this is crazy long so only about a sentence each unless I’m inspired

Reynie - Sticky: absolutely killing it, definitely come in second if not first because while neither of them can actually draw that well, they’re in tune with what the other person is trying to get across. even if it looks like nonsense to everybody else, they understand

Reynie - Kate: not amazing but pretty good! Half the time she doesn’t know what on earth he’s drawing or her gesturing is just confusing him even more but the other half? really accurate

Reynie - Constance: good but only because she has trained him in the art of Not Losing. Constance does not do the losing thing Reynie and she’s also not bad at drawing so they’re getting by okay

Reynie - Martina: consists mainly of ‘uhhhhhhhh’ noises at each other and then a guess that’s kinda right. Dead bird is kinda a roast chicken right?

Reynie - S.Q: amazing perfect legendary! but not when Reynie is drawing. S.Q hasn’t seen a lot of things so it’s kinda hard for him to guess, especially when it’s all quite wobbly

Reynie - Jackson: fine, weirdly. Jackson is less intense than Jillson during game night so as long as they’re not coming last he can handle it.

Reynie - Jillson: she is yelling loudly and Reynie is a human question mark. He needs to learn that when it looks like a cornflake, it’s meant to be a bird

Reynie - Mr Benedict: really good! Reynie loves reading just like him so they kill it on the literature round and also Reynie and him are just messing about

Reynie - Number Two: eh? No money is being on them winning but they’re not. Appalling

Reynie - Rhonda: fun! Rhonda knows it’s just a game and Reynie is just a kid who wants to enjoy himself.

Reynie - Milligan: slightly stilted but Milligan is freakily accurate at guessing. He gets a massive hug at the end too which makes him feel very safe (you may guess which he I’m talking about)

Reynie - Miss Perumal: oh, fantastic. She’s encouraging of him and even when they mess up they end up giggling about it

Sticky - Kate: Kate has pulled 17 new facial expressions at Sticky’s drawings and he is astounded by the way she keeps guessing bucket. Somehow still in 3rd

Sticky - Constance: oddly good. Constance can be patient with Sticky and she coaxes out that side of him that Needs To Win. All of the adults sort of skipped over mean!Sticky so their faces are priceless when Sticky tells them they can suck it because he’s the goddamn best

Sticky - Martina: average because neither of them are world’s best drawer or guesser but they can muddle by

Sticky - S.Q: great!!! Sticky has encyclopaedic knowledge and S.Q is a fantastic drawer! also terrible because S.Q doesn’t know what many basic things are and Sticky can’t draw for shit

Sticky - Jackson: cordial and calm, doing pretty alright. Two rather formal children with a pen it might feel a bit like a meeting between people trying to come up with new ideas for Pictionary rather than a game of Pictionary but they’re alright!

Sticky - Jillson: she is chasing him around the garden with a harpoon

Sticky - Mr Benedict: rather sweet, they’re failing miserably but at least they’re supporting each other all the way. To the bottom of the scoreboard though

Sticky - Number Two: competent but I feel like Number Two is not that great at Pictionary unless she’s teamed up with specific people

Sticky - Rhonda: let’s just enjoy ourselves :) maybe Sticky needs to give her a few hints though because optimism can only take them so far

Sticky - Milligan: even though Milligan is actually a really good guesser and drawer he takes the blame for every loss to make Sticky feel better because he thinks Sticky is very sweet

Sticky - Miss Perumal: weirdly this works. She knows what he’s trying to convey even if it’s just literal scribbly chaos and there’s even a chance of them doing well!

Kate - Constance: they are yelling violently at each other but if someone else dares insult one of them for being too bossy, prepare for their rage to be turned on you

Kate - Martina: banned from playing together. Pictionary should not be used as a vehicle for flirting and/or fighting about tetherball

Kate - S.Q: doing great!!! he’s amazing at drawing and she’s also pretty good too so they’re in with a high chance of winning

Kate - Jackson: weird dynamic. If she draws and he guesses, they’re doing good. Opposite way around and it’s not terrible but it is. Questionable

Kate - Jillson: two headstrong girls refusing to lose creates a team that is too busy arguing with each other to actually achieve anything. Luckily they admire the other person’s refusal to lose so they don’t stay mad at each other

Kate - Mr Benedict: her wild enthusiasm carries over to him and this is when you catch him actually getting competitive. Prepare to see the very minimal part of his nature that will remind you of his brother

Kate - Number Two: Kate has her head in her hands and Number Two at least has the decency to look a little ashamed

Kate - Rhonda: woooooooh girl power!!! c’mon let’s win this through the power of friendship (and end up in second still vibing)

Kate - Milligan: unified. He draws a line and she guesses it instantly. They’re the perfect father daughter team and he’s so proud of her that nobody can even be mad that they lost

Kate - Miss Perumal: okay! she’s very nice and Kate likes her so they get along well enough to achieve a good ranking

Constance - Martina: oh they understand each other. They’re above everyone else and they will win and they will rub it in S.Q’s face and then one of them will secretively give him a brownie slice if the jeering makes him feel bad

Constance - S.Q: oh she’s so pleased. She demands they win but because she cares about him (shut up) she will compliment all of his drawings in a veiled way. Of course she guessed it, she’s a genius and it’s also so obviously an airplane (translation: S.Q is very good at drawing and I believe in him)

Constance - Jackson: he’s afraid of her. However he will turn that fear into strength, mainly because that walking stick is way too close to Constance for his liking

Constance - Jillson: hell hath no fury like these two trying to win Pictionary. They will kill you and your mum and your dad and they are on the warpath. The only pairing so scary it makes S.Q draw appallingly

Constance - Mr Benedict: he can’t stop falling asleep when she insults him for being unable to guess accurately because he thinks she’s adorable and funny. He loves her so much and she’s secretly too happy about it to be mad

Constance - Number Two: who even knows what’s happening here? They sure don’t but whatever, Constance is willing to take the L, she wasn’t gonna win this one anyway

Constance - Rhonda: Constance has hidden respect for this woman. She will listen and pay serious attention to Rhonda while she is drawing and does her best to make it easy for her when it’s Rhonda’s turn to guess

Constance - Milligan: she’s still got insults left to give. Milligan is perhaps a little taken aback by the tiny child yelling at him but she’s a decent drawer so they’re getting along just fine (also she’s mean to anyone who is mean to him so he actually likes her)

Constance - Miss Perumal: you’d think Miss Perumal would be affronted by the rudeness but she actually just treats Constance with a lot of kindness in return. She apologises for getting things wrong, congratulates her for being a good drawer and so Constance is confused and actually. Stop working your magic on me you witch why am I so fond of you now

Martina - S.Q: hi bitchy S.Q we’ve missed you. They’re getting picky and irritated and being assholes to each other but they will win and they will totally high five when they do it. They have a victory song that Martina composed on a mandolin and it’s fifteen minutes long

Martina - Jackson: neither of them are afraid of the other. Will they use ‘I’M AN EXECUTIVE I’M BETTER THAN YOU!’ as a defence when they’re messing up? Yes. Is it completely useless? Also yes.

Martina - Jillson: you ever met two girls and seen them exchange a look and you know they just nonverbally said something bad about you but you’ve got no clue what it was? Now take that mean girl power and translate it into Pictionary. They’re gonna beat you so badly

Martina - Mr Benedict: something about the way that she’s so self assured and cocky makes him feel so happy that the cataplexy kicks in. He’s slid entirely off the sofa and when someone explains how that’s a good thing to Martina, she’s hiding a smile all night

Martina - Number Two: hand gestures and odd noises abound. Number Two can’t draw for shit but Martina refuses to give in so she will make them practice outside of game night so she can try understand what the hell Number Two is drawing

Martina - Rhonda: actually okay! not fantastic but Rhonda has such amazing vibes that Martina is learning to just relax and have fun

Martina - Milligan: he likes her. She’s occasionally mean and quite cocky, but she’s amiable to him and while she likely was at the start, she isn’t cruel or mocking towards him now. Yes he may be extremely tall and buff but the real matter at hand is if he can draw and thank god for the fact that he can

Martina - Miss Perumal: this child needs actual affection holy shit. C’mere Martina Miss Perumal will tell you that you’re funny and friendly instead of just smart. She ignores the actual game in favour of letting Martina feel cared for

S.Q - Jackson: terror from both of them but they think the other person has power. Jackson was told to leave the headmasters son alone and S.Q just thinks Jackson is scary so they’re playing a weird game of chicken where they both the chicken. Figure it out boys

S.Q - Jillson: when Jillson clocks that he’s a sweetheart she relaxes and then enters Oh We Will Win mode. S.Q is unnerved slightly but also it’s nice to be wanted with a borderline ‘I will be violent to other people if I don’t get him as my Pictionary partner’ intensity

S.Q - Mr Benedict: his nephew. Oh he loves him so much. Perfect boy, wonderful child. However this poses a slight problem because Benedict is talking too much about how amazing S.Q is and how much he loves him to actually guess what the object is. It’s okay though because they’re hugging by the end of it and that’s what matters

S.Q - Number Two: what is happening. Number Two can’t draw and S.Q has not seen most films or read most books or been beyond the island. He’s guessing bird 50% of the time

S.Q - Rhonda: oh they’re gonna win and Rhonda is on point with the positive reinforcement. Prepare to get a sweet chucked at you for every point you score S.Q

S.Q - Milligan: it’s odd because S.Q feels like he should be intimidated but he just feels safe. They’re doing very well together and it’s sweet to see the way that S.Q tentatively smiles when they do well and has the smile softly returned

S.Q - Miss Perumal: oh you want a mother? You want a mum? You want a brand new mum? What’s Pictionary do you need adoption papers? I can be your parent S.Q just sign here I love you

Jackson - Jillson: creepy twins out of the Shining x1000. Constance is not the only telepathic weirdo here. However if they hit a low streak they will start yelling at each other like little children

Jackson - Mr Benedict: uh. An adult being sincerely nice? Oh, yeah it’s fine. He’s fine. It’s cool. Does anyone have a tissue? also they’re doing decently, even if it’s hard for Jackson to see through happy tears

Jackson - Number Two: why are you both yelling at each other. None of this makes sense you’re not even being comprehensible anymore someone take the pen away from them

Jackson - Rhonda: good! Not much different to average people playing Pictionary it’s nice to watch

Jackson - Milligan: this man is TERRIYING. Jackson is afraid of him to the point where he kinda just stays weirdly quiet during rounds. Everyone is just waiting for him to realise that Milligan is an angel (when he does, they’re going to be a surprise powerhouse)

Jackson - Miss Perumal: she’s nice to him and it makes him wanna do well. Even when they do badly she’s still friendly to him and it’s good vibes all arounf

Jillson - Mr Benedict: this girl is insane. And he has a habit for thinking mean teenage girls are intensely funny so he’s not conscious almost every time she’s doing the guessing. On her end she’s just completely thrown by the Curtain clone thinking that she’s funny (…he really thinks that? Oh. That’s… fantastic, actually)

Jillson - Number Two: this works. The freaky teenager and the woman that she will one day be like are on the same wavelength so they’re actually guessing each other’s horrible drawings correctly. They’re so goddamn weird and yet winning. How the hell are they winning

Jillson - Rhonda: Why are you being nice? Stop It Now. No stop being friendly and kind and amusing. Shut up. (no don’t actually shut up you seem like the kind of person I wanna hang out with with)

Jillson - Milligan: this man is a social oddity. However she has spent more time on the Milligan Boat than necessary so she is starting to comprehend him. They’ll do fine

Jillson - Miss Perumal: okay Jillson is maybe one of the few people Miss Perumal just doesn’t get. But when she’s punched in the arm by Martina and told to be nice, they can actually get along fine and do quite well

Mr Benedict - Number Two: this is deranged. Perfection and insanity in one combination. They’re winning and Benedict has passed out but the answer was narcolepsy and technically that counts as correct. Everyone is losing their minds watching this occur

Mr Benedict - Rhonda: yeahhhhhh it’s time for two people who can’t stop giggling at each other. Everything is so funny to them and their positivity is infectious. Everyone can have been having the worst day of their lives but if game night rolls around and these two are a team? You’ll be happy by the end of it

Mr Benedict - Milligan: assured and calm. They know each other very well but their communication is a bit strange. Expect longggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg pauses and extended direct eye contact. It’s… really something however they’ll do well

Mr Benedict - Miss Perumal: the vibes are good with this one. For a man who often supports other, he’s a little thrown and very appreciative to have someone who treats him like he needs the support. She’s very kind to him.

Number Two - Rhonda: mainly Rhonda politely going ‘hmmmmmm. well. maybe…’ to make up for the fact that what Number Two is drawing is nonsense. Very ‘two sisters being unable to communicate and fighting about it’ until they inevitably reconcile

Number Two - Milligan: vibes. Doing well and nodding a lot at each other. He has very poetic ways of describing her awful drawings

Number Two - Miss Perumal: somebody try save Miss Perumal because none of this makes sense. No seriously is she dreaming did she eat cheese before bed

Rhonda - Milligan: actually they can both draw and they’re buddies. So it’s going pretty good and also they share Looks that have secret meaning so have fun figuring those out

Rhonda - Miss Perumal: if they are cheating via sign language that is none of your business. Stop reporting them for it you’re all so annoying god bless <3

Milligan - Miss Perumal: she’s a bit unnerved and then she gets to know him. Pretty good they connect over parenting and they can both draw so. Bisexual rights!

[ko-fanatic]

Blood, Guts and Chocolate Cake

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Danganronpa

Pairings: IshiMondo

Summary:

Mondo Owada, the Ultimate Bodyguard, is entering a four year contract with one Kiyotaka Ishimaru, the Ultimate Idol. It makes sense, two Ultimates put together for their high school careers, and he could use the steady pay check to send home to Daiya; those medical bills were a bitch, and it was his fault the accident happened in the first place.

It was supposed to be easy, guard the cutesy, clean-cut idol from perverts and stalkers, no big deal! However, the world's perception of Kiyotaka Ishimaru was far different than what the young idol had become. During the first few months before even stepping into Hope's Peak, he's more worried for the young boy than he's ever been for anyone before.

TW: Alcohol, and eating disorders (both restrictive behaviours and B/P), mentions of disability, underage sex/sexualisation, drugs

The hallways of this damn building were too long.

That was definitely the first impression Mondo got, being led down said monotonous hallways by a young woman with an expression which implied that she simply wasn’t paid enough to care about small talk. Not that he had any room to judge, hands shoved in his pockets and a permanent scowl on his face. He might’ve been going to review an upcoming contract, but the best thing about his position was that there was no need to be all smiley; Hope Peak’s choice for Ultimate Bodyguard was all the credentials he needed at this point. 

Still, he couldn’t help but feel a bit intimidated by how long he would be working with these record label types. He couldn’t deny it made sense - hire the Ultimate Bodyguard to protect the Ultimate Idol, sound logic; it was just that a four year contract was… a lot. That wasn’t even thinking about the fact he was going to be glued to the guy’s hip for all that time, having to get along no matter what. Would he even have time to make friends of his own? Doubtful. Still, a paycheck was a paycheck, and he’d have to go to some highschool anyway, so kill two birds with one stone. 

He’d never had an issue smiling through vapid celebrity bullshit before. It was going to be an easy ride, too; from what he knew, the guy was as prim and proper as they came. Real boy next door image. Easy to take care of, and mainly just telling overzealous fans to back the fuck up. Simple. 

His inner monologue was broken by an abrupt stop, the woman only sending a bored glance his way before knocking. The door was pushed ajar with the quiet muttering of “Mondo Owada to see you, gentlemen”, before he was unceremoniously shepherded into the room. 

It was just as big as you’d expect from a building like this, with a gargantuan desk and several business-types sitting across from him. They were even backlit by a floor-to-ceiling window showing Tokyo in all its glory - like some cheesy ass movie. Still, taking a cursory glance around the room, he couldn’t see anyone fitting the description of “teen idol”, let alone Ishimaru himself...

“Owada-san, good afternoon!” One of the men greeted cheerfully, clasping his hand in one of those firm yet professional grips he’d gotten used to since rising up in his career, “My name is Shiro Kamei, and these gentlemen are Kenshin Aki and Yutaka Hayashida. We’re Kiyotaka Ishimaru-san’s managers.”

“Well, that answers one question,” He shrugged, not sugarcoating his words, but not being as rude as he certainly could be, “But I don’t see Ishimaru-san around. If I’m meeting with anyone, I personally think it should be with the guy I’m gonna be with 24/7, for the next four years.”

“Of course!” Kamei-san chirped, far too cheerful for his taste, especially considering the stench of ass-kissing that followed it. Not sincere, but too many meetings like this one had trained him to swallow down the vomit that threatened to spew from the fakeness of it all. 

“Ishimaru-san will be here soon,” Hyashida-san intoned, temperament a bit more palatable than Mr Chipper, “He’s a rather busy young man, being an idol of his caliber. Dance practice is just wrapping up, any minute now, so we can use this time to have a little chat - go through expectations for your role and such.”

Mondo managed to stop himself raising an eyebrow at that. Like he wasn’t the best bodyguard in Japan. He guessed it was something needed for a job of this sort, not temping or whatever, and so he settled down for a bunch of timewasting jabber. 

Or, it was, until a certain request caught his attention.

“We also expect him to be kept out of, well… trouble…”

“Thought he was a cutesy, innocent kid?” He frowned, sitting a little straighter in his seat, attention piqued, “I’m guessing he’s the kind to get mouth-breathers and creeps, huh?”

The three men looked a little more caged at that remark. A couple cleared throats, a few tugged collars and cuffs, awkward air. 

“Yes, there have been incidents, but nothing previous security couldn’t handle,” Aki-san informed, “The issue is a recent change in attitude. Nothing much, but tugging on the leash more than necessary, if you understand my meaning.”

He did. Part of him wanted to object to the idea that a sixteen year old needed to be kept on a leash at all, but idol shit was full of PR. 

“So boy next door is going through a little rebellion, and you want me to make sure it stays on the DL,” He shrugged, “Got it.”

“I wouldn’t put it like that, Owada-san -!”

Kamei-san was interrupted by several short, sharp raps, door opening to reveal the man of the hour. 

Ishimaru was pretty, no denying that. His eyes were what really caught everyone’s attention; bright, wide and doll-like. That said nothing about his facial structure - cheekbones and jawline and everything prominent - or his barbie doll-esque frame. He was probably one of the slimmest people Mondo had ever seen, at least in person. Well, and outside of a hospital. The media went absolutely gaga over his thigh gap, his lithe abs and delicate hip bones. 

He personally prefers a little more meat on the bones, a little less fragile, but he guessed it was an idol’s job to appeal to the masses. 

“Good morning, everybody!” He beams, but honestly? The sunshine emanating from him is a lot warmer - a lot more real - than Kamei-san. He actually had to take a second to come back to himself, knocked off equilibrium. The power of the Ultimate Idol, for you. 

“Kiyotaka, this is Mon -”

“Mondo Owada,” He cuts in, wanting to introduce himself, cut the preamble, and offers his hand to shake, “‘M gonna be the one guarding you.”

Ishimaru gives him a once over, and for two seconds he thinks he sees a smirk pull at the corner of the young man’s lips, but he soon brushes it off as a trick of the light. 

“Thank you so much for accepting our proposition, Owada-san!” He grins, and Mondo hates his little bi heart at that moment. Ishimaru clasps his hand. He can’t help but feel that they’re too calloused for a pretty boy idol, but he doesn’t dwell on it, “I hope we get along well!”

He’s loud, but the words are sweet, and Mondo relaxes a little bit. Easy job, as he thought. 

---

Mondo was proven wrong in a matter of three days into his contract. He’d certainly been proven wrong far quicker than that before; however, in terms of sheer what-the-fuckery-is-this, this situation took the cake. 

The train journey to the first tour destination wasn’t bad, if tedious. Kid spent all his time reading, and Mondo had no clue how he didn’t puke all over the place from staring at the pages. He’d looked at his phone for about five minutes and was ready to lie down and accept his death. 

… Trains were not his prefered method of transportation…

Ishimaru had passed on the sandwiches on offer, but so did Mondo. No big deal. Those things sucked ass, and maybe the kid was more nauseous than he seemed. Wish that was him, considering he was pretty sure his face was pale green. 

Settling into the hotel was fine, as was the tech set up in the venue. Stress emanating off everyone, but pretty normal as far as that shit was concerned. Ishimaru was dragged between costume fittings, tech run throughs and other things that just passed in a blur. 

No, what really proved to Mondo that the pretty boy idol was going through an actual rebellious phase, was what he walked in on at 11:56pm, night three. 

He’d gotten up due to a serious inability to sleep. Seriously, did he manage to get jet lag without even switching time zones? Nah, didn’t work like that. Maybe it was second hand adrenaline from the performance being tomorrow. Ishimaru might not make his kind of music, but the guy had this infectious enthusiasm for it all. He’d be backstage, too; premo location to see everything up close. He couldn’t help the slight smile on his face, in spite of how tired he felt. 

Any fleeting, fuzzy feelings disappeared, however, when he walked into the main area of their hotel suite. 

There stood Ishimaru, back to him, very much not dressed for bed. His jeans were so tight they looked spray painted on, not to mention the sequined top that cut off to show a tantalising flash of milky pale skin.

“Where’re you off to?” 

His question seemed to startle the kid, who practically jumped three feet in the air, hand clutching his chest as he whirled on him. 

“Fuck, what’s your problem?” He gasped out. Mondo couldn’t help but let his eyes widen, having not heard the boy swear since they met. Admittedly, it was only a few days, but Ishimaru just gave off such an innocent vibe. He’d questioned if the boy even knew a swear word for a while. 

“The guy I’m meant to protect is running off into the city at midnight, and obviously didn’t plan to tell me,” He answered bluntly, “So, come on, where’re you trying to slink off to?”

“None of your business,” He sniffed, shoulders squaring, “And stop… talking to me like that. Like I’m a child. It’s annoying as shit.” 

“Alright, sor-ry, jeez,” He apologised, hands up in surrender, “Let me just grab my coat and -”

“No!” Ishimaru ground out, “I’m going out, you're staying here, and my managers are none the wiser, got it?”

Oh, that sneaky fucker. While Mondo was all for personal freedom, no way was the scrawny kid going out there to get attacked and murdered in some urine soaked alleyway. For one, it’d completely fuck up his plans for the next four years - no money to send back to Daiya, and he seriously doubted Hope’s Peak would want an Ultimate Bodyguard who let the world’s most popular idol get murdered in a matter of days. 

“Yeah, no, not happening, kid,” He shut down, reaching over the boy to get his coat, only for hands to press against his chest, stopping him. 

“What do you want then? Money?” Ishimaru asked, looking up at him through his lashes. Fuck, the kid really went all out with the makeup; smokey eyeshadow and liner, glossed lips, the whole deal, “Or I can suck your dick?”

He nearly choked at that, face hot as hell and probably an embarrassing shade of red. “N-No! What the fuck?!” He yelled, only earning a shrug in response. 

“Look, I need to go out - alone,” Ishimaru began again, arguing a point Mondo simply wasn’t going to agree with, “I need to get a little fucked up, railed into some guy’s mattress, and then I’ll come back. I’ll be here again before sunrise.”

“Tugging on the leash more than necessary”, his ass! 

“Sorry, you're talking to the wrong guy,” He dismissed, doing his best impression of Daiya’s you done fucked up voice he could, “Back to bed. Don’t think you’re sneaking out, either. I’m just gonna stay out here all night, make sure you don’t go and get yourself cut up and dumped in the river. Y’know, my job.”

“Fuck you,” Ishimaru spat, storming back to his room with a mutter of ,“Asshole…”

If Mondo knew one thing, it was this… He’d really had no idea what he was signing himself up for.

---

A/N:

WOW, it's been a while since I've written for this fandom. Thank you Taka and Mondo for being an adorable pair of dumbasses and dragging me right back into DR. Hopefully, I'll add to my old fics too, but I've got lots of new ideas I want to play with (Including two other talentswaps and two AUs!)

For now, Ouran fics are on the back burner, I'm afraid. I'm sure I'll be back to them soon enough, but I'm a bit burnt out in my OHSHC obsession, so we'll see.

Also, as always, comments really help and if you want to take any of these concepts and run, go for it! All I ask is a credit and a link if possible! :)

[mischiefthedreamerx]

To Never Give Up

Summary: By mistake, Loki takes a portal leading him to New Asgard, where he meets Thor who is broken & hopeless after the events of Infinity War. Thor is given some closure and Loki can finally say goodbye.

Pairing: Loki x Sylvie implied.

A/N: Idk how Loki ends up in New Asgard in but that's irrelevant. Towards the end I kind of lost inspiration & ideas so it flopped a bit but I wanted to finish it.

Word Count: 3k

- - - - - - - -

Loki landed ungracefully with a loud 'thud' against a hard cold floor. As he lay down in his new surroundings, the awful smell of the room hit him first, making him scrunch up his nose. Getting up to his feet with an exhausted sigh, he took in the room. It was small, dull and unkempt. Only a slither of light broke through the closed curtains. Empty food packets and cans of alcohol littered the table and wooden floor. Loki saw some controls with wires connecting to a thin rectangular box next to a TV. The stoned-wall room looked abandoned, claustrophobic. How could anyone possible live here? Blankets lay over a gloomy sofa as if someone was sleeping on it too.

Loki cautiously walked around the room for any sign of life, avoiding treading on the litter or touching anything for that matter. He thought whoever lived here would probably not be much of a threat. Outside, he heard the sound of birds squawking and ocean waves.

The next thing he heard was a sudden high pitch creaking sound of a door opening. Loki conjured up a small dagger, eyes narrowing to the direction of the sound. Someone was home. The door closed and within seconds, the resident appeared in front of the room.

Loki’s dagger fell to the floor as he froze in place. He stared openly, wide eyed, trying to process who this heavy figure was. The figure in turn dropped a white plastic bag of food.

"Thor..?” Loki gasped in horror. His brother wore a grubby white t-shirt and a knitted cardigan, hair long and tangled. At first, Loki wasn't even sure it was Thor.

Thor mumbled out a bunch of incoherent sounds before managing to form actual words. "Loki..? Loki! You're alive!" He let out a laugh as he pulled his brother into a tight hug.

Loki was left speechless. Tears prickled in the corner of his eyes, hesitantly placing an arm around Thor to return the embrace. A warmth spread through him. Loki did not wish to let go though Thor eventually did.

A bright smile crossed his lips. “You bastard! You had me fooled there, thinking you'd actually died again! And for good this time. You truly are quite the trickster, brother. " The laughter continued as he pat Loki on the back.

Loki swallowed. "Thor..I'm.." His stomach ached at the thought of telling Thor the truth. "I'm not from this timeline." He guessed since Thor was not on Asgard that their home had been destroyed on this timeline by Ragnarok and Thanos had attacked. Loki placed a hand on Thor's shoulder. "I'm not your Loki." He said softly.

"Wait..this isn't another one of your silly little tricks, right?" He kept up his smile despite the uncertainty in his gaze.

Loki raised both hands in an attempt to calm his brother. "Thor. I need you to listen to me."

But he did exactly the opposite. "Please come in! Excuse the mess. I-i wasn't expecting visitors. Not that I, er, getting any.." Thor mumbled as he hurried in, removing any litter from the sofa and tidying the blankets. Loki turned to watch Thor helplessly, unable to move from his spot. He sucked in a heavy sigh. "Have a seat." Thor spoke.

Loki forced away the numbness in his limps and slowly sat down. "Thor, please. Just listen to me." He said in despair.

"Right. Of course." Thor muttered, siting himself down.

"What year is this?" Loki asked.

"Um.." Thor frowned, scratching himself. "2023."

"I've come from the year 2012." Loki explained. Thor stilled frowned.

"This isn't a joke is it?" His little piece of happiness faltered.

Loki shook his head, a pained smile reached his lips. "I wish it was."

Any trace of a smile left Thor completely. "So.. you're from another timeline..which means.." He sniffed. "..you're still.."

"Dead." Loki said. "Your Loki is dead." Loki felt a heaviness in his chest. Dead.

Thor wrapped his cardigan around himself. "Then why are you here?"

Loki took a moment to gather his thoughts. "It's a very long story. I took a portal and by chance it lead me here. To you." His gaze met Thor's. There was no sign of that prideful hero left in those empty eyes. Nothing that once resembled a would be King of Asgard, a saviour to many. Loki wasn’t sure it was a good idea to tell Thor about the whole TVA situation either.

“How come you’re alive?” Thor asked.

“After New York, I escaped with the Tesseract. I’ve seen a lot..I saw the events that happened to my future, from the Dark Elves to Ragnarok and the attack by Tha—“

“No. We don’t say that name here.” Thor choked out, cutting Loki off.

Loki nodded. Thor had lost everything and so had Loki too, though in return he found Mobius and Sylvie to help with the loss of his family but Thor was alone. Not even the avengers came to visit him from the sound of it. Loki fought the urge to let his fingers curl into fists.

"Sorry." Loki apologised. "So this is your new..home?" His eyes scanned the living room.

Thor fumbled with his fingers. "It's not much. After the..well, you know, the humans were kind enough to offer us this village. It's a bit fishy but it's all we've got. They even gave us a sign too." Thor forced on a smile. "It's not quite like home." He looked down at his lap.

"Asgard is not a place." Loki said.

"It's a people." Thor said quietly, finishing off the common saying amongst the Asgardians.

Loki knew he should not stay too long, it would only hurt Thor more when he left but maybe this was what they both needed despite not being from the same timeline. Loki told himself to go. Was it selfish to stay for a little while longer? Maybe this was meant to happen?

"Why don't you show me around this new kingdom of yours?" Loki suggested with genuine smile.

"No, I don't really go out much."

Loki stood up. If he was going to stay for a while, he wasn’t willing to be confined in this depressing room. "Well I'll just go ahead on my own, if you don't mind?" He smirked. "I'll be on my best behaviour."

Thor scrambled up to his feet. "I don't think that a good idea. You're suppose to be dead, they'll see you."

Loki chuckled. "No they won't. You still underestimate me, brother."

- - - - - - -

Loki concealed his presence from anyone nearby, though it wasn't too busy, some had gone out on their boats. They both walked along the pier, Loki had conjured up a black coat due to the weather. The sky was hidden behind grey clouds, as a breeze swept across the ocean. Rays of sunlight managed to break through occasionally. Thor briefly spoke about their job with trading and catching fish for nearby villages in this place called 'Scotland'.

After about half an hour of wandering along the pier, they both stood on a hill overlooking the coast and houses of New Asgard. Thor bent down, placing in hands on his knees to catch his breath.

"Are you okay?"

"Don't worry about me. The exercise will do me some good." He said sucking in the ocean air before standing up straight, stretching his back. Loki gave him a moment to steady his breathing back to normal.

"So what are your daily king duties on this fine and wonderful kingdom?" Loki asked in light humour.

Thor scratched his brow in thought. "You know, king stuff, the usual. It's not like I stay inside all day shouting at a bunch of fools on a screen."

"Sounds..exciting." Loki said flatly.

"What about you? Causing chaos wherever you go?"

Loki thought of his words carefully, there was no need for Thor to know all the specifics when he already had enough to deal with.

"Something like that." He smiled. Chaos was too much of a small word to describe what he had gone through. "I've been protecting the sacred timeline." Loki joked with enthusiasm.

Thor frowned but did not question it. "Oh, yeah? And how's that going?”

Loki's facial features tightened. "Marvellous.”

Thor did not have the effort to ask Loki to expand on his response, he probably thought Loki was lying but it did not matter to him.

They both stood together watching the ocean. Loki closed his eyes, tipping his head back as he let the breeze blow against him, prolonging their time together. There was something about the ocean that brought him a sense of calmness. As Loki's eyes remained close, Thor turned to look at his brother who appeared to be so at peace, a feeling Thor had rarely often seen Loki experience.

"You've changed." Thor said absentmindedly, his voice mirroring the calmness between them.

Loki opened his eyes, a warm expression crossed his face. "I know. Seeing one's own life play out on screen was certainly an experience. I finally heard what I needed to hear for so long.” That he was loved.

"I met people I could trust.” Well, it was still an ongoing process for some part of it. “Someone who told me I could be anything I wanted to be, even someone good.”

A tinged of jealousy pinched inside Thor's chest. "Met anyone special along the way?" He nudged Loki with his elbow as he grinned.

"Well," Loki placed his hands in his pockets, letting out a nervous laugh. "it's complicated."

The shining grin remained. "I wish to hear about them.”

Loki shied away for a moment, trying to force his smile back but unfortunately failed to do so. "She's sometimes irritating and very reckless." His expression then softened. "She reminds me of how I used to be..so full of anger but deep down she's hurting, a lot. She doesn't trust, or let anyone in. Or even know what it’s like to love someone.”

"And then you came along with all that charm of yours.” Thor teased.

Loki scoffed. "Cut it out. We're..still figuring things out. I think."

"Truly, I am happy for you, brother. And what is this fair maiden’s name?" She was definitely far from a ‘fair maiden’...

Loki averted his gaze downwards, their last moment that they shared together played through his mind. "Sylvie." He said, almost as a whisper to himself. A name that weighed heavy in his heart.

"Sylvie." Thor repeated, testing the name. “You know, brother, for the first time in my life. I'm actually jealous of you. Who would of thought that?"

Loki frowned. "Jealous? Of me?" This would of once made Loki feel victorious that the roles had been reversed after many years but now it only pained his heart to see his mighty brother succumb to such sadness.

"I mean, look at you! All happy and in love. And then there's me. Barely even a king, I spend every day inside pretending I'm fine, it's not like most of my people haven't died when I was suppose to protect them or-or that half of the universe has been destroyed, that we failed them, failed each other and fell apart..” Thor rambled on. “We lost.”

"If this means anything to you; I still think you're worthy." Loki said softly. Thor turned with tears prickling in his eyes.

"I am?" He questioned, sniffling. “I’m not quite sure anymore.”

"You are forgetting who you are. You can't let Thanos take everything away from you. He is no god.” Loki knew mentioning Thanos would displease Thor but Loki knew the hard way that hiding your pain, forgetting that it exists, only made everything more worse. The only way out was to face it head on. Loki would certainly know.

Thor shook his head. “No, no. Loki, I can't. Not without you. I've lost everything." He trembled in his words. Loki regretted not leaving sooner. He had failed to comfort Sylvie, to save their trust within their final moments, now Loki had to find some way to bring closure to Thor who was possibly past his breaking point. Comforting others was a tricky task, a trait he had not quite naturally inherited from his mother.

"You don't need me. Our paths were destined to diverge." Loki had found a way to move on and Thor needed to do so as well. "All is not so lost, brother." When you live for so long, loss must be something you became familiar with but regardless of long you knew someone, there was never enough time for when you'd be ready to say goodbye.

"I know. I know." Thor mumbled to himself. Despite his larger size, somehow he seemed to cower into himself, making him seem so small.

Loki cleared his throat. "So the Avengers..they disbanded?" He asked.

Thor nodded. "Seemed that way. Not heard from them since the whole 'snap' disaster." They abandoned him, Loki thought in anguish, failing to hide the disgust in his features.

"The mighty so-called Avengers gave up, is that it?" Loki folded his arms across his chest.

"You seem angry, brother." Thor commented out of curiosity.

Loki shrugged. "They call themselves heroes, protectors against evil but when they lose, they go and hide away from their mistakes like cowards.”

"Then what makes someone a hero?"

Loki blinked several times, his annoyance was caught off guard by Thor's question. Someone who blindly follows the rules? Who uses their powers for fame and fortune? Those who believe they are perfect? But it seems after all, that they were anything but perfect.

"I don't know." Loki looked across at the waves, straightening up his posture and gave Thor his answer; "They are selfless, willing to sacrifice themselves for others without question. They don't just give up even when they lose. They keep on going." Loki attempted to keep his frustration under control but tendril of it managed to slip through.

A small smile portrayed across Thor's lips. "So is that who you are now?"

Loki frowned, turning his attention to his brother. "What do you mean?"

"A hero."

Loki chuckled. Him? A hero? He'd never stopped to think of himself as that. Loki had been many things, taken on many roles; the villain, a trickster, an outcast, a prince. But never a hero in the eyes of others or himself.

"Is that really such a bad thing, Loki?"

"I suppose not." Loki huffed out in uncertainty.

"Whoever said you could be anything you wanted to be was right." Then Thor repeated the words he once said to his Loki on Sakaar; "You could be more."

"Thank you." Loki spoke sincerely with a smile. Maybe he was thankful that he had stayed after all. A final chance to see his brother and for Thor to know that on another timeline, Loki was alive and well.

"No need to thank me, brother. I should be the one thanking you. I am glad fate has brought you here to me, to remind me of who I am."

"My pleasure." Loki nodded.

After a gloomy start to the day, the sun had won its battle against the clouds and shone its rays against the ocean, blessing New Asgard with its glorious light and warmth.

"Looks like the sun is finally making an appearance." Loki commented, looking upwards. "This place is rather melancholy to say the least."

Thor's eyes widened in bewilderment, his gaze switching between the sun and his brother. A tear trickled down his cheek. Fate was truly cruel in some ways. Loki noticed Thor's odd expression.

"Thor?"

Thor shook his head to escape himself from his thoughts. "I'm fine. And don't talk badly about my newly established kingdom. It's a...work in progress. Come back in a few years time and we'll have towers across these mountains."

"I'll take your word for it." Loki chuckled, though their happy mood soon faded. Loki would not be back here in a few years time. He would likely not come back at all. Thor picked up on Loki's sudden change of mood.

"Why can't you stay, Loki?" Thor asked despite knowing that he could not stay.

"As much as I would wish to stay with you, I can't. I.. have people wanting for me." He needed to find Mobius and Sylvie, to fix this mess that had unfolded, he will not run away. Thor nodded with a sniff.

"Will you at least come and visit?" He pleaded. Loki did not want to make any false promises, though he so easily could to make this less painful for Thor but in the long run, the guilt would soon eat up inside of him. He had enough of it to deal with already.

"Thor. I can't. I don't belong here."

Thor’s newly found confidence collapsed, hands beginning to shake. Loki made the decision to leave before the pain was too much to bear for both of them.

"No." Thor shook his head. "Don't leave me."

Loki placed a hand on his brother's quivering shoulder. "I have to. People need need me."

"To be a hero?" Thor managed to force smile as the tears shone in his eyes

"Well I guess." Loki smiled back before opening up his arms to embrace him in a hug. He let their embrace linger on.

"Don't give up." Loki whispered until they let each other go one final time. Thor did not have a chance to reply when Loki waved a hand of green sparks across Thor’s tear stained face.

"Goodbye, brother." Was the last words Thor heard before a gentle darkness overtook his sight.

- - - - - -

"Hey, man. You waking up anytime soon?" Said a voice. Thor felt something small and solid hit his face. "You're not dead are you?" Another minor hard object made contact with his cheek.

Thor had awoken, he was inside his beach hut, Korg stood above him catching a rock in his palm. "Sorry, hope that didn't hurt too much."

Thor ignored him, shrugging off his blanket as he stood up, stable onto his feet. There was a gleam of strength in his eyes that had been missing for far too long. A broad smile made an unusual appearance as the sound of thunder rumbled in the distance.

"Must of been some good dream you had there, buddy?"

"We need to contact the remaining Avengers." Thor demanded as he strode off towards the front door.

Korg scratched the back of his head. "Why?"

"Because heroes never give up!" Thor beamed.

Thank you, brother.

- - - -

@cazzyimagines @maciswack

[wordsablaze]

To Be Loved

Love is a fickle thing, it can burst into life within minutes or it can take months to fully bloom. The one thing Jaskier and Eskel can always agree on is that it's more than worth the time it takes...

A/N: continues on from to be found but also works as a standalone, written for aro week <3

-

Their first date had gone well, all things considered.

Eskel had been a little sleep deprived on account of working until late and worrying until even later but Jaskier hadn’t seemed to mind at all, bursting with enough enthusiasm for the both of them.

He’d been waiting outside the bakery at six, scrolling through his phone and looking up just as Eskel was debating whether he should just sneak back inside. Jaskier had grinned widely and Eskel had immediately known it was going to be a good evening.

“You look like you have a lemon stuck in your mouth,” Lambert tells him as he walks into work a week later.

“And how would you know what that looks like?” Eskel grumbles.

To be honest, he’s felt like he has a lemon stuck in his mouth since last weekend because Jaskier had promptly disappeared off the face of the earth. He wants to think it’s just a coincidence but he can’t help feeling as though it’s another case of the whole Eskel isn't good at first dates so of course it wouldn’t work out thing again.

Lambert raises his hands in surrender and gestures to the kitchens, where everyone is allowed to work in peace when they’re not in the right mindset for actual interaction. He zones out immediately, only looking up when Coen pokes his head in the doorframe.

“We might need your help with this guy,” he says, and Eskel sighs, already expecting a problematic customer or something.

What he’s not expecting is Jaskier tapping his foot on the floor and biting his lip. He freezes when he sees Eskel, opening his mouth to say something, but Eskel holds up a hand. “Can you come through to the back? I don’t want to have this conversation here.”

In the few minutes it takes for them to reach the office, he’s decided he’s more than ready for Jaskier to admit his spontaneous flirting was just a whim and he's not interested in anything else. Only, Jaskier does nothing of the sort.

“Eskel, I am so sorry about disappearing! I didn’t mean to, I swear! It’s just that Shani’s place flooded so she broke her ankle and I had to drive her to the hospital but we were arguing on the way and this guy at a red light decided I’d hurt her as if I wouldn’t rather die but we ended up fighting and I ended up with a concussion again and we both had to stay for observation or something and I- I’m really sorry for leaving you hanging,” Jaskier blurts.

Eskel blinks.

“Is she okay?” he asks, not really sure what he’s meant to be focusing on.

Jaskier nods, his shoulders dropping as he lets out a slow exhale. “She went to medical school, she knew exactly what they were going to do before we even got in the car.”

“That’s useful,” Eskel replies, but then shakes his head. “Wait, are you okay? Someone gave you a concussion?”

He’d been amused last time Jaskier had downplayed concussions but now he’s seriously wondering if he should be concerned about how the other man can be so unfazed by so much - it’s not like you can develop an immunity to head trauma.

Jaskier just nods again. “Of course, I’m fine. I hope I didn’t give you the wrong impression?”

“Not at all,” Eskel lies.

There are arms around him before he can try and figure out whether Jaskier had seen through his lie. He stumbles slightly but allows the embrace to happen, oddly comforted by the fact that Jaskier is just as relieved to have explained the truth as Eskel is; maybe this time things truly can work out, he thinks.

.

“You really don’t have to go tonight,” Jaskier says for the fourth time that day.

Eskel sighs, throwing a cushion at him. “It’s been three months since we met, I think it’s about time I see you perform.”

Jaskier hums before flopping onto the small sofa, resting his head on Eskel’s lap with the rest of his body draped lengthwise, his feet dangling off the armrest at the end. “But I know you don’t like loud or crowded spaces and we aim to have exactly that,” he pouts.

There’s a long moment in which Eskel just appreciates that he’s not being forced to go despite how bizarre it is to experience the exact opposite situation. He smiles down at Jaskier and very truthfully says, “It won’t matter because I like you.”

He places a finger on Jaskier’s lips when he tries to argue again, chuckling. “And before you ask me again if I’m sure, don’t.”

Jaskier’s eyes practically sparkle for a moment before he twists his head and bites Eskel’s finger, nowhere near hard enough to hurt but firmly enough for it to be a shock.

Rolling his eyes, Eskel laughs. “What, my baking isn’t enough for you anymore?”

Starting to reply only to realise that he can’t form actual words whilst biting down on an index finger, Jaskier pulls Eskel’s hand away and grins. “Dessert is fine, darling, but you’re a five-course meal and I wouldn’t trade all the oven goodies in the world for you.”

Eskel has no idea how to reply to that.

It’s far more romantic than anything he’s used to and he’s never been good at flirting so the last thing he wants to do is say something that ruins whatever they have going on. After a long moment of panic, he settles on shrugging. “We have a pretty good oven.”

Jaskier hums in reply and thankfully doesn’t press on his hesitation, sitting upright with a small sigh. “I suppose I should go get dressed. Are you driving?”

“I don’t trust you with my car,” Eskel says, only half joking.

“I’ll be wearing those heeled boots then,” Jaskier grins, taking absolutely no offence as he springs to his feet and blows a kiss before heading to Eskel’s bathroom, where he’d dumped his change of clothes when arriving earlier and declared it was his domain for the rest of the day.

If anyone had told the Eskel of a few years ago that he’d willingly allow someone so chaotic to saunter around his home and genuinely flirt with him in every other conversation, he’d probably have rolled his eyes and assumed they’d somehow mistaken him for someone else; maybe changing his mindset has been for the better, he thinks.

.

The ocean has no right to be so elegant.

Eskel had never been a huge fan of beaches because the stubbornness of sand is quite frankly sinful but Jaskier absolutely adores everything about them and there’s only so many of his puppy dog eyes that can be refused.

“We’ll barely even touch the sand, I promise!” Jaskier had declared, and he’d made sure of it too.

Soon enough, they’re settled on the rocky side of the beach, propped up against a larger stone with their legs stretched out in front of them and their shoulders pressed together. Jaskier slips his fingers into Eskel’s and gently squeezes, which has quickly become one of Eskel’s favourite things ever.

“Aren’t the waves gorgeous?” Jaskier asks wistfully.

Eskel hums. “They can still kill you.”

Jaskier laughs, nudging him. “Ever the optimist, aren’t you? Nothing can kill me, darling, not today.”

Well, he can’t really argue with that because he feels the exact same way. It’s hard to think of anything morbid when celebrating six months together and he doesn’t particularly want to try so he just nods in agreement.

“Thank you,” Jaskier whispers after a while.

Eskel turns to him, tilting his head to one side. “No, you were right, it is soothing to watch the waves.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Jaskier lifts their connected hands and places a soft kiss on Eskel’s thumb before looking directly at him with an even softer smile. “Thank you for letting me stay for so long.”

He says that as if Eskel isn’t in disbelief about someone being willing to stay with him for so long, especially someone like Jaskier who could probably charm his way into the lives of anyone he pleases.

“I should be saying that to you,” Eskel admits, “I know I’m not exactly the best partner out there.”

Jaskier genuinely looks offended. He uses his free hand to poke Eskel’s stomach and glares at him. “Don’t say things like that, you are possibly the kindest and most patient person I know, not to mention the most handsome.”

Eskel’s face heats up at that and even though he knows he tries to be kind and patient, he can’t help wishing he could be more, that he could be charming and fun and worthy of the poetry Jaskier keeps texting to him whenever he’s drunk.

“Hey, look at me?” Jaskier asks.

Eskel’s head moves before he gives it permission but he has no regrets because Jaskier is smiling and he’s grown overly fond of that stupid smile and the way it manages to make him feel a little better every time it’s directed towards him.

“I love you,” Jaskier whispers.

Oh.

His expression must give his alarm away because Jaskier squeezes his hand again and shuffles so he’s leaning his head on Eskel’s shoulder, looking out at the ocean. “You don’t have to say it back but I couldn’t possibly have gone another day without telling you. And it doesn’t matter, you’re still the best.”

Jaskier falls in love with someone or something new every other day but they’ve both been hesitant to acknowledge his unwavering commitment to loving Eskel until now. Eskel exhales slowly, letting his head rest stop Jaskier’s and closing his eyes.

His first instinct is to apologise but he’s almost certain Jaskier would throw him into the ocean if he did so he settles for squeezing Jaskier’s hand and shuffling even closer, focusing on the way they fit together so well, on the way everything they do together is comfortable, on the way he doesn’t feel pressured to pretend.

He’s always been a little scared of actually finding the love he usually only hears about through everyone else in fear of somehow failing at it but Jaskier has never demanded anything he wasn’t happy to give; maybe love isn’t so frightening with the right people, he thinks.

.

“Jaskier, where’s my hoodie?” Eskel asks, frowning at his wardrobe.

He knows Jaskier sometimes borrows his clothes but he’s not sure how to take that since he seems to do that with literally everyone he knows, whether that’s his bandmates, random people he meets at bars, or even Ciri on a few memorable, drunk occasions.

“Which one?” Jaskier calls back from the kitchen where he’d gone to find popcorn because he refuses to watch a film without some.

Eskel sighs. “The red one with the flowers.”

“Roses!” Jaskier corrects, and Eskel just knows he’s shaking his head in exasperation. “And I don’t know!”

After a moment of frustration, Eskel shrugs on the other red hoodie and makes his way to the kitchen, groaning when he sees Jaskier wearing the not so missing hoodie. Jaskier’s eyes widen at the sound and he spins on his heel to check the microwave as if having expected it to be exploding.

“I thought you said you didn’t know?” Eskel asks, raising an eyebrow.

Jaskier only frowns. “I don’t?”

It takes him a minute to catch on and finally glance down at himself, at which point he bites his lip and looks up again sheepishly. “I just grabbed a random one,” he mumbles eventually.

Eskel rolls his eyes because it’s not the first time they’ve had this type of conversation and makes his way over, using his thumb to gently pull Jaskier’s lip out from under his teeth before very softly kissing him. “Blue suits you better,” he whispers.

Jaskier nods, still wide-eyed and a little breathless as he lifts his arms and loops them around Eskel’s neck. “But red reminds me of you,” he whispers back, his gaze flickering between Eskel’s eyes and lips.

Well, there goes Eskel’s heart melting again.

The microwave beeps at them before he figures out how to reply, both of them jumping enough for their foreheads to crash together. Jaskier curses immediately, stepping back as he rubs his head and glares at the microwave as if it’d just stabbed him.

“Hope the popcorn is worth the pain,” Eskel says, laughing.

Jaskier sticks his tongue out before pulling the popcorn out, pouring it into a bowl and handing said bowl to Eskel as he has the steadier hand and is far less likely to spill it all before they even sit down, which they’d unfortunately had to learn from experience.

“Don’t doubt me, darling, you are going to love this film!” Jaskier declares just as he always does - he’s only right about half the time but Eskel has to credit him for the everlasting confidence at least.

It doesn’t take them long to settle, Jaskier leaning heavily on Eskel and their arms wrapped around each other, and although Eskel is about ninety percent certain he won’t like the film judging by the cover, he wouldn’t dare interrupt Jaskier’s mission to broaden his cinematic horizons or whatever.

“You are unfairly comfortable,” Jaskier mumbles, practically burrowing into his chest.

Eskel laughs, snuggling closer himself. “You have very strange standards.”

Jaskier hums quietly, choosing popcorn over replying to the accusation just as the film finally starts with a rather cliché shot of the view from a window. He was right in thinking he wouldn’t particularly like it but Jaskier’s constant commentary has both of them laughing and it’s worth the watch anyway; maybe being with someone else makes the boring things less boring, he thinks.

.

Weird how a year can feel like forever as well as no time at all.

Eskel wakes up on the morning after their first anniversary with a slow smile, taking in the way Jaskier is sprawled over him like some sort of misguided blanket.

Perhaps it’s just Jaskier’s poetic influence over the past year but he thinks it’s utterly fitting that sunlight just so happens to be falling over the two of them in a way that makes it seem as though they’re glowing even though it’s still winter.

It’s a good thing Jaskier sleeps like the dead when he actually manages to fall asleep for a normal human amount of time because it gives Eskel the chance to do things like bring them breakfast in bed. This one he’s been planning for a while so he doesn’t waste any time gazing and quickly slips out of bed, getting himself sorted and making his way to the kitchen.

He more or less makes the pancakes with muscle memory alone because there’s a part of him that can’t help worrying. He knows Jaskier loves him, he knows that better than he knows most things, but he’s never had a relationship this long and he doesn’t know the right etiquette to all of this.

“Eskel?”

Cursing inwardly, he grabs the tray - complete with a plate of four pancakes, two mugs of coffee, and one small envelope - and heads back to his bedroom, pausing in the doorway. “Right here,” he smiles.

Jaskier returns the smile, then yawns before raising his eyebrows at the sight of the tray. “We already had anniversary breakfast yesterday?”

“Are you saying you don’t want the pancakes?” Eskel asks, smirking when Jaskier sits up with a grin that makes his answer perfectly clear. “Thought so.”

“Mhm, you’re the best boyfriend in the galaxy,” Jaskier says as Eskel places the tray at the foot of the bed and settles beside him.

Eskel is more than aware his face has probably gone embarrassingly red but for once, Jaskier doesn’t point it out, instead getting distracted by and picking up the little envelope with a frown. “What’s this?”

Deep breath.

“Can I open it now?” Jaskier asks, thankfully able to guess that Eskel’s throat has gone a little too dry for him to explain.

When he nods, Jaskier offers him a smile and rips one side open, gasping when he sees what’s inside: a key. Or more specifically, a replica of Eskel’s house key.

“I love you,” Eskel says honestly.

It’d taken him a while to get things sorted in his head - not to mention several awkward conversations with his family and friends - but at this point, he’s absolutely certain he loves Jaskier and nothing can make him question his heart in the slightest.

Jaskier sniffles and throws his arms around Eskel before he can apologise for making him cry. And Eskel laughs, holding his boyfriend whom he truly genuinely loves because he is capable of that after all close until they’re both satisfied they’re not going to actually burst into tears or anything.

“I love you back, of course,” Jaskier says as he pulls back, rubbing his eyes.

Eskel grins, ignoring the way it almost physically hurts his face, and only grins further when Jaskier kisses him despite both of them being a little too smiley for it to really work.

“I can’t believe you made me cry before pancakes,” Jaskier grumbles eventually, elbowing him, but he’s still half-grinning and there’s a lot of mixed signals.

Laughing, Eskel brushes his thumbs under Jaskier’s eyes. “The pancakes aren’t going anywhere.”

Jaskier hums in acknowledgement and twirls the key between his fingers for a long moment, apparently thinking something over. “You are aware this means you’re never going to get a moment of peace again, right?” he asks.

“I’m willing to take that risk,” Eskel replies even though he’s never felt more at peace than when he’s with Jaskier.

“On your head be it, darling,” Jaskier laughs, shuffling so he can curl into Eskel’s arms again, “I love you so much.”

Eskel’s reply is swallowed by the lump in his throat but it’s okay because Jaskier knows and he knows Jaskier knows and that’s more than enough. Their breakfast will probably go cold before they get round to it but neither of them will mind because everything else is just so perfect; maybe love is just being patient with the differences, Eskel thinks.

-

ik this is fairly niche so it's unlikely many ppl will be reading but just in case: this fic was not meant to reflect aromanticism as a whole - sometimes you just don't aim for love and that's totally valid !! this was just a lil ventfic,,

ongoing masterlist for this au if you’re interested :)

-

thanks for reading !! masterlist | witcher blog: @itsjaskier​

[random-shit-fuck101]

I can’t get this idea out of my head. Like imagine you meet pro hero Deku while he’s running away from reporters and you are outside a little café run by underground heroes that you do some side jobs to you since you are a college student and you need the money. So you see him like really desperate to hide and you motioning over and he goes like... no self preservation at.

After you you are seated inside a café you just scold him because he is a hero and he should know better than to just follow random people into alleys and him being himself just rub the back of his neck and went:

“Eh, you’re right.”

Like you know you are right you don’t need him to tell you but then after a while and after meeting for a couple of times in the café because now he know a good spot to hide the both of you start developing feelings for each other.

You don’t tell him you’re an underground hero, He finds out a month after you meet for the first time during a debriefing when he walks in and sees you at the end of the table.

He’s like “what the hell are you doing here?”

And you just go “oh yeah I never told you.”

He gets upset because he thought you trusted him and you see that something clouds his eyes after he sees you.

Before any of you can say anything else the planning starts for the rate. Your quirk is suited for planning and strategising since it allows you to connect everyone that you work with through a mental link and allows you also to see what they see and therefore you use that to form a plan on the go, sort of.

The raid raid goes well. But you can see Izuku’s not acting the same way and you kind of guess why. So you give him space and wait for him to go to you. But that doesn’t happen, not for the next month or so and you’re starting to get worried, because you like him (you realise that by now) and at least you want him as a friend.

So you talk to the owner of the the café and they tell you that he still goes there. So you realise he’s avoiding you and that hurts. You just leave and go home trying to think of a plan to ambush Izuku and kind of force him to talk. Probably not your best idea but it’s the only one you’ve got.

So you ask the head of the café to help you and they do, they tell you when he’s around but you don’t go like the next week to speak to him you kind of wait a few more days and you know he always goes Sunday mornings to get is drink so one Sunday you just wait for him outside the door. 

Is it a bit creepy? yes,

Not very heroic? also yes.

And you know this but you just have to try.

When he sees you he just stops and after a few beats of silence he just walked past you. You just turn around and grab his arm telling him:

“Wait please I just wanna talk.”

He stares at you for a bit and then just nods, so hoping that you’re not followed, you take him to a park close to the café and he’s being like very cold to you.

“You wanted to talk so talk”

That’s what he tells you and you just lost all your courage by looking at his eyes not because you are flustered or anything but because they are so very cold so the only thing that leaves your mouth is

“ I’m sorry...”

It just looks at you in the eyes and you feel like it’s staring at your soul so you continue

“I didn’t think that telling you I was a hero would change anything like it wasn’t important in my eyes”

“So you lied to me when you told me you were a college student?”

“No I didn’t I am a college student but I’m also a hero well an underground hero I usually work as a side job because not always my quirk is needed. I’ll be honest with you I don’t understand why you’re acting like this. Why is it such a big deal if I’m a hero or not? I’m still myself and I’m still the person you met that day that helped you run away from reporters so why are you so upset?”

“ it doesn’t matter I think that perhaps our friendship wasn’t meant to be.” And he walks away.

Your heart breaks into tiny little pieces because now he doesn’t even want to be your friend anymore forget crushes or love or whatever you would be happy with just friendship but now you don’t even have that. You walk back to your home and sit on the couch looking through the picture you have of the both of you on your phone and this sounds awfully like a break up because your heart was broken in the end so you just let it be.

A couple of months later you are called into a raid and there is various heroes there you have Deku, you have Eraserhead, there is red Riot and Chargbolt and some other underground heroes along with the police, so you are sitting in HQ doing your job which is coming up with a plan if something goes wrong. And something goes wrong, as soon as they walking everything goes dark your connection with them breaks and you are left in pure silence. You try and try to restart the connection but something was blocking your quirk but you can still connect with people outside the warehouse so you assume the problem is within the warehouse so therefore you think it’s a good idea to just go there you drop everything gets loaded and go in.

It was not a good idea. You are very good in combat that’s not the problem, the problem is going alone. Everything is dark and everyone kind of passed down, you don’t quite know, you’re confused so you just look around without being noticed looking for the problem or why are you can’t connect with them.

Every time your quirk is used with another mental quirk usually yours is annulled so you assume another mental quirk. You hear the villains boasting about what happened, you hear them say “oh yes they are now facing their worst memories and fears and they are probably never going to wake up again”

Dread feels you , because you don’t have a way to counter that and you are afraid for the first time in awhile. Many of these types of quirks can be stopped if you defeat the person who casted whatever is happening so you decide that fighting the villains it’s a good idea. 

You check if you have everything in your suit and your utility belt. You do, so you jump into the fryer. 

Bad decision. There were far more villains than you knew and soon you felt yourself being overwhelmed. During the fight somehow you manage to knock the right person down so soon everyone that got him was waking up.

You reestablish the connection “hello everyone welcome back” you say in a show off enthusiasm and when everyone looks and sees you fighting everyone is a bit taken back because no one thought you could fight like that but realise you cannot fight everyone so they join.

Izuko it’s looking at you and thinking how much of an asshole he was do you all those months ago and while fighting, he makes a goal telling you about his feelings even though he’s pretty sure you do not reciprocate them.He’s wrong but he doesn’t know that.

Then among the chaos someone jumps you and since you are tired because holding a connection this large and making plans and everything is taxing so you are not paying 100% attention and you get stabbed. Not just once but multiple times and someone using their quirk just yeets you across the warehouse leaving you badly injured and possibly passed out. 

Deku sees red, he screams and launches some self to the villain that attacked you and wipe the floor with them, he doesn’t even let anyone else join the fight he just went ballistic.  everyone is shocked minus maybe Aizawa, Kaminari and Kirishima, mostly because they know him and what he did to overhaul.

When he stops fighting he leaves the villains to be apprehended by the police and rushes off to you. You are passed out in the back of an ambulance covered in blood not only yours but blood nonetheless and he hears the paramedics say that you have some serious injuries mostly cracked ribs and a broken one that’s very close to puncture your lung. 

His world falls after realising that if you die he never got to apologise for being an asshole so he desperately wants you to survive even if you don’t forgive him or anything really he just wants you to live.

In a hospital he stays by your side for as long as you are asleep after everything healing and all the procedures of the hospital so it just says by the side of your bed holding your hand while blaming in him self. When you wake up you look to the side can you see him there all crawled up on an uncomfortable armchair and you look around and you realise what happened. He wakes up and sees you awake, he jumps up and nearly launches himself onto the bed barely stopping after we realised the state of your ribs and you look at him he looks at you and you stay silent for awhile and then you ask

“Tell me what happen.” and he does.

While are you are healing he never really left your side and you don’t realise why because you’re not friends, you’re really not anything to each other at this point so you are confused.

So now you’re back home and he’s carrying your bag to your door on the last floor of a building and it’s not necessarily uncomfortable but is also not very comfortable you have a lot to say to each other but you haven’t said it yet so everyone is a bit confused.

You open the door you let him in, you offer something to drink he refuses... pleasantries.

You’re sitting on the couch and he is standing in front of you and he opens is mouth

“sorry” he says his eyes shining with unshed tears so much like himself and the person you met all those months ago and if you’re honest to yourself the person you fell in love with.

You don’t know why he’s sorry so you ask him that he just kneels in front of you grabs your hand and says:

“ I was an asshole you didn’t deserve that because you were right it was not my thing to know I wasn’t obligated to know you were a hero you are a hero whatever but I was mad because you hid something from me and I thought you trusted me so I was mad and then when it hit me that you are a hero it means you can get hurt and you can get hurt you could die you could be paralysed you could be everything and I was scary because I care about you and I don’t want you to be in harm’s way and I hated it and I hated myself because I knew you didn’t feel like that for me and I was confused and I hated it and and and...I’m rambling again... anyway I hate the thought of you getting hurt because I love you and I don’t want you hurt.”

He takes a deep breath and he looks at you because he was looking everywhere but you and you see he’s honest in even with all these rambling that you think it’s cute you realise what he means he also loves you and that revelation hits you like a ton of bricks. You blush deeply and you don’t quite know what to say but when you open your mouth:

“Izuku... you don’t need to apologise I understand why you felt hurt. I’ll be honest with you it broke my heart when you just left and started to ignore me because I also have feelings for you and they go beyond friendship but I rationalised it to be like if we can’t be anything else at least we are friends but we weren’t even that so it was a rough time because I didn’t know what to do with those feelings other than bottle them... i’m also sorry because perhaps I didn’t handle this in the best way possible...”

He interrupts:

“no no no no no no I am at fault I’m sorry you have nothing to be sorry for”

“Before we fight over who’s more sorry or who’s at fault let’s take a deep breath, we have both apologise to each other let’s move on. What do we do with this?” and you motion between you two “what are we? what should we do?”

“Well I don’t know.” he says “Do… Do you… Do you wanna be my girlfriend(or boyfriend, or datemate)?”

Your brain short-circuit a little bit and you don’t know how to answer it. He starts getting antsy and before you start apologising you say:

“yes”

It was a simple answer but it was something that filled him with joy and it filled you with joy too.

He sits by your side puts an arm around your shoulders pulls you to him, careful of your injuries, and just kisses your forehead. You stay like that for awhile enjoying each other’s company because being a hero is full of surprises and you never know what might happen so you stay there leaning against his shoulder and after a while he repositions himself with you now laying on his chest feeling so safe and still tired from the healing you end up falling asleep dreaming of green and home.

He smiles down at you but he can’t help himself but kiss top of your head and closes his eyes also falling asleep with the person he loves on his arms safe and sound.

[turkisherlockian]

A Touch From The Past - The Thunderstorm 🌩️ - Request [Benedict Cumberbatch AU - Teacher x Soulmate Student Reader] (Part One)

Summary: Y/N is reborn with the memories of her soulmate and she has no idea. She's in love with her drama professor who is surrounded by lots of students who try to get his attention because... Well, he is perfect. She keeps watching him from aside until a touch makes them both remember their memories from another lifetime.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1208

A/N: I hope you like it @inner-thoughtsofnelia ❤️😸 I had so much fun writing this one!

•

And there he is. Walking through the small crowd of students carefully with a big book and a cup of coffee in his hands, it's a beautiful morning and he's early, as always. He enters his office and places the book on his desk, checks his watch to see he has 20 minutes to finish his coffee and plan his day.

"Isn't he just... so good? He's never boring, always smiling, understanding! Lord, forgive me for having a crush on my professor but it's kind of your fault, don't you think?"

The young women laugh at their friend's words, aggreing with her. Almost everyone has a crush on him. Swooning over their professor who could talk about Shakespeare and never bore them. He isn't just teaching. He's Hamlet, he's Macbeth, he's Richard III... He's Shakespeare when he's talking about him with great enthusiasm. He is a sight for sore eyes, his voice like velvet touching their souls gently and his smile beautiful enough to brighten their day. This man is the definition of beauty, that's what Y/N thinks of him, at least.

He enters the class and everyone stands up, even if they aren't supposed to. He wishes them a good morning and starts teaching. Y/N can't take her eyes off him, her mind trying to listen to what he's saying and her eyes gauging his every move when he turns the pages or his fingers caress the sharp edge of them gently. He's holding an old, big book in his beautiful hands and reading phrases from them in his baritone voice. He feels so, so familiar and she thinks it's because she has a crush on him - just like everyone else. She knows she doesn't have a chance, she knows he wouldn't even glance at her when he's surrounded by the others. He's a professional, he's much older than her - not that she would mind, but she is sure he would. Everything about him deserves compliments and she could write a book about how... Unbelievably beautiful, he is. She smiles to herself when she feels her heartbeat quicken, she doesn't mind any of the things her inner voice says. It's okay, she thinks, finding the idea of being in love with him and getting to listen to him almost every day just enough. Being in love with him? Sounds like she confesses to herself.

Y/N is still in deep thoughts when Professor Cumberbatch hands her a small amount of papers, "Would you please hand these over, Miss..." When his hand touches hers, he stops talking and his eyebrows are drawn together in a frown. The professor feels like a deer caught in the headlines when he looks into her eyes. He closes his eyes for a second, only to see - or remember a memory. He remembers her touch, he knows he has looked into these beautiful eyes before. "I-I'm sorry, have we met before? At a café or a bookshop... Somewhere?..." He gulps as he opens his eyes. What is happening?

"No, I don't think we have, sir..." Y/N speaks quietly and stands up, "I am Y/N Y/L/N."

"Nice meeting you, Miss Y/L/N. And thank you." He smiles at the young woman that he is sure he's seen somewhere before, and makes his way back to his desk.

Y/N's hands are shaking.

She bites her lip from the inside and tries not to squeak while trying to comprehend what just happened.

Professor Cumberbatch keeps stuttering while talking - which is unusual for him. The young lady is still on his mind, and he can't help but wonder why she looks so familiar. As if they've met before but if they did, he would remember her; he definitely would! Maybe it's the touch that he remembers because people tend to forget faces, not how they felt. And Y/N's touch starts a thunderstorm on his mind.

---

45 minutes felt like forever for both of them. He sighed in relief as it ended but lots students gathered around his desk to ask a question or have a chat with him. Y/N just watched the gorgeous girls who would do anything to get into his pants, they seemed really enthusiastic about the subject but she just knew they didn't really mean it. And she knew he wouldn't choose her if he were to choose one. She just watched him from her seat while fidgeting her fingers.

The professor wasn't in the mood for chatting, so he kindly asked them to visit him at office hours. The large crowd made its way to the door and Y/N got up from her seat quickly to leave.

"Miss Y/L/N," he spoke, but had absolutely nothing to say. He didn't even know why he did that. "Could you help me carry these books to my office? There are too many..." He smiled awkwardly, pointing to the books on his desk. "Sure." She kindly replied with a smile and stood up, walked towards him and he gave her two books that he could carry easily. Y/N tried to stop her hands from shaking, but she felt his fingers touch hers once again and they fell on the desk. The moment their hands touched, they both had images that they've never seen before. They were clearer now, not blurry and included them, those were memories that they never had. Like a life they never lived.

Y/N's hands were shaking when she apologised quickly in a whisper, her mind too busy on what just happened. "Darling, are you alright?" The professor asked, his voice full of concern. He was still confused... But he saw that coming.

Y/N could finally dare to look at him as she took the books from the desk, "Yes, I'm fine." She replied with a shaky voice.

"Your hands are shaking..."

She raised the books in the air with a smile, they were heavy enough to stop her hands from shaking. He simply nodded and lead the way.

Once they reached the office, they both were shaking inside but much calmer. Y/N put the books on his oak wood desk and asked, "Anything else I can do for you, sir?"

"No, thank you Miss Y/L/N." He smiled.

"See you in drama class then." Y/N spoke quietly and turned the door know but her professor's voice stopped her.

"Miss Y/L/N..."

No, he couldn't ask if they have met before once again; he would sound like those men at the pubs.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

She smiled, "I am. Thank you for your concern."

He returned the smile and nodded, watched her leave.

---

I'll post part two soon! ❤️ I hope you enjoyed it :)

[ggukcangetit]

Dreamcatchers Chap 1

Pairing: jungkook x oc

Summary: DI Jeon didn’t need a new partner. Unfortunately, his superiors felt otherwise; especially considering the extremely high-profile murder that had just taken place in the port city. Recent transfer, DI Choi Yuri finds herself confronted with a new cityscape, unfamiliar people, a hostile partner, and a homicide that is certain to bring back unpleasant memories.  

Genre/AU: fluff/action/mystery | detective! au | police!jungkook, police!oc

Word Count: 3.1k

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: mentions of violence, alcohol, blood, drugs, death. basically stuff you’d associate with a murder mystery/crime drama.

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Acknowledgement: shoutout to @stutterfly​ for designing this beautiful banner which i am completely in love with and stare at for no particular reason throughout the day

A/N: here’s the first chapter! i had originally planned on posting the entire story as one post but it’s way too long so i’m breaking it up into multiple chapters. the story features a named oc because i’m still very unfamiliar with writing second person reader inserts. i’m not aiming for strict accuracy in this story, and all criminal investigation/forensics knowledge i have has been gathered by watching crime drama/procedural dramas! my knowledge of geography is also not totally accurate so apologies for that. once again, one thing right by @hobios​ prompted me to write a police inspector! jungkook story. would highly recommend reading that because it’s probably one of my most favorite pieces of writing!

16th December

Mornings began early in the Yeongdo district of Busan. Yuri realised this on her first morning in town, as her fitful sleep was broken around 5 in the morning. Perhaps the quiet bustle at the crack of dawn shouldn’t have surprised her too much, given how this was primarily a seaside town with a small port. Her work did not require her to arrive before 8 am so she decided to talk a stroll around the town, acquaint herself with some of the shops and people, and perhaps even grab a bite to eat.

Yuri’s best friend from high school - Kim Ahreum, lived in this town, and this was one of the few reasons why Yuri hadn’t protested violently against her transfer. That, and she hadn’t been given much of a choice from her superiors. Ahreum had texted her excitedly about how beautiful the sea port of Yeongdo was - full of beautiful parks, quirky shops, exquisite food, and fascinating people. Coming from Seoul, Yuri wondered how difficult it would be for her to adjust to a world that sounded so different from the one she was coming from. Ahreum herself was a doctor in training, while her older brother - Namjoon, was in his final year of graduate school, just a few months away from his second law degree. Yuri didn’t remember much of Namjoon as he had left for college by the time she and Ahreum had become friends in their second year of high school. Her limited memory told her that he was very well read, quiet, and taller than the most other boys in school. 

“Hey! I haven’t seen you around before.” 

Yuri looked around for the owner of the voice - a little girl with two tight pigtails, a bright red dress, and a look of suspicion and curiosity lining her face. The woman beside her - presumably her mother - looked appalled at the little girl’s statement and shushed her before apologising to Yuri.

“I’m so sorry, miss,” she said, bowing deeply. “Nayeong here doesn’t really know how to talk to elders!”

“That’s alright,” replied Yuri, returning the bow. She squatted down in front of Nayeong and looked straight into her eyes. “Hello, my name is Choi Yuri. I moved here yesterday. It’s nice to meet you, and I hope we can be friends.”

The little girl seemed to hesitate in her desire to outcast this stranger who had seemingly no qualms about being truthful and friendly. Yuri could see the indecisiveness flitting through her features and decided to try a different tactic.

“I’m quite hungry but since I don’t know any of the shops over here, I was wondering if you could tell me where I could get some fresh bread and pastries.”

At these words, Nayeong’s eyes lit up and any indecision she previously held disappeared. She grabbed hold of Yuri’s hand and her mother’s, pulling them along in the direction of the town’s center. A few minutes later, they came to a halt outside a cozy looking shop.

“‘The Moon’s Post Office’?” Yuri read the sign out loud, intrigued by the name.

“Seokjin oppa makes the best pastries in the world! Eomma, tell her!” Nayeong exclaimed, looking at her mother excitedly. 

“Alright, alright,” her mother laughed. “Yes, Nayeong is right. Seokjin does make incredible pastries, breads, and desserts. It’s almost impossible to stop this one from visiting the shop every day.”

“Well then, I guess I’ll just have to go in and find out. Would you like to join me, Nayeong?” asked Yuri. She glanced at the older woman once, to make sure this request wasn’t out of line.

“Can I, Eomma?” asked Nayeong, excitedly.

“Of course! It’s always a good thing to help others out.” Nayeong squealed happily at her mother’s response and rushed inside.

“I’m Lim Seora, it’s nice to meet you,” said the older woman, once her daughter was inside.

“Choi Yuri,” Yuri responded, bowing deeply. “Thank you for accompanying me here.”

Once inside, Yuri felt her senses getting assaulted by a plethora of soft, sweet, refreshing smells. Nayeong was already at the counter, talking to someone about the different things she wanted. Yuri felt her throat go dry as she glanced at the person behind the counter. She had rarely seen anyone as handsome as the young man currently talking to Nayeong. His thick black hair kept falling over his forehead which he tried to remove with a gentle shake of his head, his plump pink lips pressed together in amusement as an oversized black and red cardigan hung off his rather broad shoulders. 

“So that’s three blueberry scones, one orange muffin, and a bag of peanut butter cookies?” asked the young man, to which Nayeong nodded enthusiastically.

“Anything else?” he asked.

“I’ve brought a friend with me today. She’s hungry so can you make something tasty for her, Oppa?” responded Nayeong, pulling Yuri forward.

“Is that right? Hello, I don’t think we’ve met,” he said with a soft smile. “Kim Seokjin, I run this bakery.”

“Nice to meet you,” replied Yuri, bowing in greeting. “I’m Choi Yuri, I moved here yesterday.”

“Nice to meet you too! May I recommend the Snow Croissant?” said Seokjin, sweeping his hand dramatically over the display case.

“The ‘Snow Croissant’? What’s that?” asked Yuri, chuckling at his enthusiasm. 

“It’s my take on the New Orleans Beignet and the French Croissant,” he replied, bringing out a golden flaky croissant dusted with powdered sugar. 

Yuri took a bite of the pastry and gasped in surprise. The light crunch of the savoury croissant blended beautifully with the soft sweetness of the sugar dust, along with-

“A hint of lemon?” wondered Yuri, biting into the pastry absentmindedly. 

“That’s fantastic! Not many people have been able to detect the subtle lemon flavour infused into the pastry dough,” replied Seokjin, looking extremely pleased. “Would you like anything else?”

“A coffee, please,” said Yuri, throwing the paper plate into the nearby dustbin. “To-go. And how much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house,” replied Seokjin, with a wink. “Consider it a welcome present. Hope to see you around!”

“Oh…” Yuri flushed slightly at his generosity, but accepted it nonetheless. The clock inside the bakery chimed seven times, indicating that she had spent close to an hour with her new acquaintances. 

“I should get going,” she said, taking the coffee cup from the counter. “Don’t want to be late on my first day of work. It was nice meeting you all. I hope we meet again, Nayeong!”

xxx

“You can’t be serious! Why the hell are you doing this?!”

Chief Inspector Goh pinched the bridge of his nose as he watched one of his best officers fly off the handle. 3 years into the force Detective Inspector Jeon had proven himself to be smart, capable, and extremely reliable. The only problem was a recent case which had slowly come to take over his life. Which was why, when Chief Inspector Goh had called him into the office to tell him that they were closing the case, DI Jeon had taken it a little too hard.

“Jeon, you are, first and foremost, a homicide detective. Granted that this disappearance was linked to a homicide you were investigating, but you need to let it go. There are other, more pressing, cases that require your attention. We need you back on the force full time. Let Lee handle the disappearance - it's his department. For now, I’m assigning you a new partner to work with. Especially-”

A knock on the door interrupted Chief Inspector Goh, followed by the entrance of an unfamiliar face. 

“Right on time! That’s the kind of dedication we’re looking for over here,” said Goh with an appreciative nod. “Jeon, meet your new partner - Detective Inspector Choi Yuri. She’s just transferred here from Seoul. DI Choi, this is Detective Inspector Jeon Jeongguk - he’s one of our best men.”

DI Jeon scowled as he surveyed his new partner. She was tall, dressed in a plain shirt and slacks, her short hair tucked behind her ears. She gave him a small smile and bowed in greeting. In response, DI Jeon stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

“I apologise on behalf of him,” said Chief Inspector Goh. “He isn’t usually this impolite. Really glad to have you join our team, DI Choi. You’ve had quite a number of impressive cases in Seoul, and we hope that you can continue working hard with all of us here.”

“Thank you, Chief Inspector. I will do my best,” said Yuri, with a small smile.

“Glad to hear that. Now,” he said, pulling out a thin case file from under a large stack of paperwork. “I need the two of you to head over to Manor House right now. Some officers are already at the scene, along with the forensics team. The body was found early this morning.”

“Have they identified the victim?” asked Yuri, checking how far Manor House was on her phone.

“Hmm. Kang Eunwoo, son of Kang Kiwoo, who owns the largest chain of hotels in Busan. So you can understand the situation.”

Yuri gulped softly, tucking her phone away and nodding her head slowly.

xxx

The entire ride to the crime scene was silent. Not the pleasant or comfortable kind of silence Yuri had always preferred over meaningless small talk. No, this was the stiff, suffocating silence that made her want to pitch herself out the car window. She was currently regretting not having driven to work - although she was still a bit exhausted from the nearly 5 hour drive from Seoul the previous night.

She didn’t know what to make of her new partner. When she was working in Seoul, her partner had been a 43 year old woman named Hwayoung. She was separated from her husband with whom she shared joint custody of their three kids, only drank low sugar milk tea, and talked a mile a minute while on the job. Some might have found Hwayoung a tad irritating, but Yuri had found a caring older sister in the ruthless and chaotic world of criminal investigation in the country’s capital. DI Jeon, in comparison, had yet to speak a word to her. The couple of routine questions she had asked him about the exact location and identity of the victim were met with heated silence. 

The Kangs were incredibly wealthy - the type that could buy your family business in an instant and then gift it back to you without incurring any loss. The lavish mansion reeked of money, luxury, and carelessness that only accompanied an abundance of liquid cash. The victim had been found in the private meeting room on the ground floor. Being an extremely high profile case, there were already reporters trying to get a good picture from outside the mansion itself.

“Cause of death?” asked DI Jeon, kneeling down to get a better look at the body.

“Blunt force trauma to the back of the head. Death would’ve been instantaneous,” said the forensic doctor, removing her gloves and stuffing them into her coat pocket. She turned towards Yuri and gave her a small smile. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Dr. Ahn Seulgi. I head the forensics team at the precinct.”

“Choi Yuri,” replied Yuri, bowing slightly. “I’m DI Jeon’s new partner.”

“Is today your first day at work?” asked Seulgi, with a surprised expression.

“Yeah, I just got transferred from Se-”

“DI Choi, need I remind you that there’s a body lying here?” snapped DI Jeon. “It would be better if you socialize on your own time.”

Yuri was taken aback by the anger in his tone. Even though she had worked in homicide for nearly 5 years now, her colleagues had always been polite and friendly with her. She didn’t really know how to respond to her new partner’s accusations.

“Calm down, DI Jeon,” said Seulgi, a frown settling on her forehead. “This isn’t socializing - we’re coworkers and it's impolite to not introduce yourself to each other.”

DI Jeon didn’t say anything more after that, but Yuri could feel the anger radiating off him. She was grateful to Seulgi for sticking up for her, but it didn’t look like she was going to have an easy time working with Jeon. 

“Detective Inspector,” said another officer, approaching DI Jeon with a notepad. “I’ve just spoken to the staff. It seems there was a big party here last night. The victim had invited around 10-12 of his friends and they stayed till just before midnight.”

“Thanks, Jisoo. Ask Suho to get statements from all those who were present at the party last night. As well as where they went afterwards.”

“I will,” replied Jisoo, with a nod. “Mr. Kang is waiting for you in his office.”

Kang Kiwoo didn’t look like a seasoned businessman who had a 26 year old son. His face was young and his smile was extremely attractive, but, Yuri noticed, it didn’t reach his eyes. In fact, there was something inscrutable in his dark brown irises that disturbed her more than she liked to admit. Yuri had come to realise that a person’s eyes were the first to betray their true nature; and Mr. Kang’s eyes were almost vacant.

“My condolences, Mr. Kang,” began DI Jeon. “Please rest assured that we will do everything in our power to catch whoever is responsible for this.”

“Thank you, DI Jeon,” replied Mr. Kang with a smile. “I’m feeling reassured knowing that you are handling my son’s case. And you are?”

Yuri bowed once again and introduced herself. “DI Choi Yuri. I will also be working on your son’s case with DI Jeon.”

“Well then, how can I be of assistance? DI Jeon? DI Choi?”

“Could you please tell us more about the party that took place last night?” asked DI Jeon, not giving Yuri a chance to say anything. He had already sat down on one of the chairs, and Yuri decided that she would rather remain standing.

Mr. Kang frowned for the first time since the beginning of the meeting. “My son likes to- I’m sorry. Eunwoo liked to party quite a lot. I wasn’t fond of his lifestyle and I had told him of my views many times before. This isn’t the first time that he’s taken over an entire floor of our mansion to ‘entertain’ his friends.”

“You argued with your son last night,” continued DI Jeon, consulting the notes Jisoo had given him. “What was that about?”

“If you know that we argued, I’m sure you know what we argued about.” 

“In your own words, if you will,” said DI Jeon, a forced smile gracing his features.  

“I lost the use of my legs almost 3 years ago,” said Mr. Kang, leaning forward on his desk. “I expected my son to take over the company by the time he was 28. However, he didn’t seem in the least bit inclined to take any responsibility whatsoever. So last night, I told him I would disinherit him.”

“And how did he take that news?”

“I’m quite certain you’re not asking me to elaborate on the type of language my son used last night,” said Mr. Kang, with a slight smirk. “Because I’d prefer not to.”

DI Jeon stared at the man across from him who was proving to be much more difficult than expected. “Can you tell us what your movements were for the rest of the night?”

“I was in here, finishing some paperwork, until the party got over. I said goodnight to my son and retired for the night at around half past 12.”

“How did your son seem when you last saw him?”

“He was quite inebriated. I barely got a coherent reply from him. In hindsight, I should have stayed with him until he had fallen asleep. Maybe I could have prevented his death.”

“Why do you say that?” Yuri asked, speaking for the first time since introducing herself. DI Jeon shot her a glare before returning his gaze to Mr. Kang.

“If I had been with him until he fell asleep, he wouldn’t have gotten into a fight with the Park boy.”

“The ‘Park boy’?” asked Yuri, frowning slightly.

“Park Jimin. He came here last night. I heard his voice just before I closed the door to my room.”

“Are you saying Park Jimin killed your son?” asked DI Jeon. “Do you have any proof, Mr. Kang?”

“It is your job to find proof, DI Jeon. I’m merely stating what I know. The Parks are our long time rivals; I’m sure you’re aware of that. My son never got along particularly well with Park Jimin since they were in school. As far as I can tell, he was probably the last one to see my son alive.”

xxx

Yuri was currently at Ahreum’s apartment, having dinner in honor of her moving to Busan. 

“I had such grand plans of taking you to the street food market on your first day here,” whined Ahreum. “But given how completely exhausted you look, this is the best alternative.”

“This is great, Ahreum. I haven’t soba noodles in such a long time. You’re actually a pretty decent cook.” Yuri grinned at her best friend, before slurping some noodles.

“I still can’t believe that a high profile murder took place the day you moved here. You really can’t catch a break, can you?” Ahreum sipped on her wine, while scrolling through her phone. “Social media is blowing up with this.”

“I’m just glad I could leave in time for dinner. The way Jeon was treating me, I thought he would make me file paperwork at the station the entire night.”

“I don’t really get that. Jeongguk’s a pretty decent guy. Why’s he being such a dick to you?” Ahreum asked, tying her long brown curls into a bun. “Namjoon’s known him since before I moved here. He only has good things to say about him.”

“Beats me,” shrugged Yuri. “But more importantly, where is Namjoon? I thought he’d be joining us for dinner today.”

“He’s still at the library.”

“It’s almost 11 pm.”

“Yeah, the library closes at midnight. He’ll probably come home after that.” Ahreum stretched her hands above her head before stifling a yawn. “He runs on very little sleep anyway.”

“Nice to see that hasn’t changed since I last saw him,” grinned Yuri, slipping on her shoes and getting ready to leave. “Thanks for dinner, Ahreum. I really needed this today.”

“Oh shut up! You know I’m always ready to feed you!” she replied with a wink. “Now go home and get some sleep.”

Sleep. That was the problem. 

xxx

hope you enjoyed the first chapter! feel free to send me an ask if you have any questions so far. and don’t forget to like/reblog if you enjoyed the chapter!

[feeling-uncomfy]

Part two!! I hope you enjoy- I'm really enjoying writing this! :D

There are no specific warnings, just Tokoyami having no clue how to talk to people and then fucking up when talking to hot dudes. Also there's a mention of COPD (I did a little research)

Enioy!

Hawks was there in ten, dragging Tokoyami behind him. Tokoyami grumbled until the door opened again, and he looked up to tell the person to fuck off, but froze.

Gang Orca walked in, bodyguards flanking him, but that's not what caught his eye. Oh no, not the people who could flick him and kill him, damn his size.

It was the boy who followed him in, eyes darting around the lobby, curious and almost.. afraid? He was tall, and the lower half of his face was covered by a skintight mask, while the top half was mostly covered by bangs, hanging low over his eyes no matter how much he swiped them out of his face.

He was muscular, but he seemed so gentle, with a nervous kind of excitement while walking in. He stuck to Gang Orca's side like glue, never straying too far. Tokoyami genuinely found himself frozen, his face burning a bright red at the sight of him. He was shaken from his staring by Hawks brushing past him to greet their guests.

"This is Tokoyami, say hello." Tokoyami blinked up at the boy, who stares right back. Neither said anything, but they didn't need to, really. The taller one broke the silence by bowing at the hip and speaking.

"Hello," the boy kept his head low, and didn't say anything else, almost like he wasn't sure he could. Tokoyami blinked dumbly again before straightening up.

"You don't have to bow, do I look like royalty to you?"

Tokoyami and Hawks winced in unison at Tokoyami's poor choice of words. Luckily, the boy laughed it off as if it was normal to be spoken to in such a way. Tokoyami bristled, and Gang Orca didn't comment.

Hawks spoke over Tokoyami's apology. "Gang Orca, my office should be an okay place for us to talk, Shouji, Tokoyami, why don't you two wait in the lounge?" Gang Orca almost moved in to stop them, but stopped at Shouji's enthusiastic nod.

Tokoyami found himself leading this absolutely handsome, dreamy boy, who's name he now knew to be Shouji, into the lounge. Wow.

He opened the door, and once Shouji was inside, he stood politely in the corner, not a word left his mouth. Tokoyami looked over, confused.

Shouji felt eyes on him, and he looked over to see Tokoyami staring. Instinctively tensing, Shouji fought to find something to say. People weren't really his thing, in fact, new places in general weren't his thing.

Nevertheless, when he'd been told he was going to actually be going somewhere that wasn't a bunker, Shouji didn't think of the consequences when he nodded. Being outside was something that happened once in a blue moon, and while he knew why, he couldn't help but want to be out there, doing something.

He had little to no involvement with the company Gang Orca ran, yet he knew the facility better than even the longest working person there. He probably knew the place better than Gang Orca. Shouji looked around the room, curiosity winning over his preemptive fear.

Forgetting the other person in the room, Shouji walked around and explored the room. Picking up things of interest, putting it back exactly where he had found it. Well, out of habit he organised it a little, but he didn't think about it as he went from item to item, mumbling to himself as he looked through the books.

It wasn't until Tokoyami spoke up that Shouji was brought out of his own world. "What are you doing?" Tokoyami once again winced at his tone. He sounded like Hawks talking to a rude dealer, and Tokoyami shook his head and focused on the guest he'd just startled. Shouji almost dropped the book he was holding. Almost.

"Looking, am I not allowed?" Tokoyami strained to hear him, Shouji naturally talking in a quiet voice. Tokoyami tilted his head at the response, more so how nervous it sounded. "Yeah, you are. I was just confused," Shouji seemed to relax at the words and went back to what he was doing.

Tokoyami watched him move from shelf to shelf, in a world of his own. He wasn't sure why Shouji was so interested in the lounge, it was just full of little collectables that Hawks has gathered over the years. But to Shouji, this seemed to be a whole treasure trove, full of wonders he didn't know existed.

Tokoyami caught glances at his eyes, how they lit up at every new thing he saw. It was endearing, and Tokoyami found himself smiling softly just watching him. It was as if Shouji could see things Tokoyami couldn't, and from how he studied each item, Tokoyami became more convinced he actually could.

But there was something to his curiosity. Tokoyami could go down the street and see half of these things, without fail he could point out where Hawks got them. Either he wasn't as observant as Tokoyami thought, or Shouji had genuinely never seen them before.

"Shouji?" Tokoyami almost snorted at how quickly Shouji put the thing he was holding back where he found it. "Yeah?" Tokoyami looked him up and down before speaking. "Have you.. ever seen these before?" It seemed innocent enough, and Tokoyami didn't miss the way Shouji had started to fidget.

"I-... haven't seen them in person, no." Tokoyami let his confusion show on his face, obviously, and Shouji was quick to explain. "I've seen them in photos, or I've seen them from a distance, but I've never been so close, they're even better up close," Shouji was on a tangent now, pointing out the things he held, giving little facts about them that Tokoyami didn't know before.

For his extensive knowledge, Tokoyami found that Shouji had never actually seen them, or held them. Weird. Tokoyami tuned the talking out, wondering why Shouji hadn't seen them. It wasn't as if they were very rare, in fact, they were common enough for Hawks and Endeavor to compete to get the most.

Hawks won, obviously. He was a hoarder, and a nasty one at that. Anything he could get, he did. Tokoyami was positive Hawks had maxed out one if his credit cards by the end of it.

Getting back on topic, Shouji was still on about a book, oblivious to Tokoyami's spacing out and the large book about to fall off a higher shelf, directly onto his head. Tokoyami glanced up at it and jumped when it wobbled before falling.

Panicking, Tokoyami shot forward, reaching out and yanking Shouji towards him. Unfortunately, Tokoyami completely forgot about the fact that Shouji towered over him, and since Shouji wasn't given a warning, they both were sent to the floor in a heap.

Tokoyami prepared himself to be crushed, but was surprised to find he landed on something soft. Maybe there was a cushion on the floor Tokoyami hadn't seen. That theory was proven wrong when the heard a loud thump. Someone definitely hit the foor.

Tokoyami opened his eyes and was met with grey. It was soft and oddly comfortable, and Tokoyami found himself just laying there, enjoying the pillow. That was, until Shouji spoke from someone above him. "Tokoyami? Are you okay there?" His voice was a lot softer than Tokoyami imagined it would be, up close.

Still, he looked up and froze. Shouji had turned them over, taking the fall and saving Tokoyami the trouble and pain. Tokoyami blinked up at him, realising that his face had just been in his guest's chest, shamelessly basking in its comfort.

To say Tokoyami jumped out of his arms was an understatement. He practically teleported. Shouji blinked before snorting quietly and sitting up. "Sorry about that, you weren't hurt, right?"

Tokoyami looked at Shouji, and couldn't help but think about how pretty his eyes were, Tokoyami could see the concern in them, genuine and kind. Unfortunately, Tokoyami ruined the moment by snapping.

"I can take a hit, you know. I'm not made of glass."

Tokoyami froze at Shouji's eyes widening, and took a step back when he stood up. Tokoyami was half expecting a punch to the face, but felt even worse when Shouji kept his head firmly facing the floor. "Right- right, I'm sorry.." Shouji's voice was even quieter than usual, hesitance ringing clearly.

Fuck. Tokoyami had fucked up. He tried to fix it, carefully stepping closer. "I- it wasn't meant to come out like that, I'm sorry," Tokoyami reached out, only to have Shouji flinch. It was small, but not unnoticeable. Tokoyami pulled his hand back quicker than intended, making Shouji shuffle back. Well, Tokoyami had just earned the title "Asshole of the year" and he couldn't even blame Hawks.

Shouji crossed his arms. He really wanted to make a good first impression, but he messed that up, and Tokoyami probably didn't like him. Shouji looked at the floor and fought the urge to get out of the room. He understood now why he wasn't always allowed outside, he messed up whenever he talked to people.

Shouji opened his mouth to apologise when the door opened again. Hawks was there, not looking pleased. "Hi there kids. Why don't you two go on a walk? It's pretty boring in here." Tokoyami blinked at the clear anger ringing through Hawks's voice, and nodded for his own safety, not wanting the nearest object thrown at him.

"That sounds good, c'mon Shouji." Tokoyami looked over at Shouji, begging him to just listen and not question anything. Thankfully, his enthusiasm from earlier returned to him and he nodded quickly. Tokoyami let himself relax, maybe the damage from earlier wasn't so bad?

The two left the building, missing Hawks putting a hand in front of Gang Orca and glaring, demanding an explanation. "You're telling me that this kid, a kid younger than my brother isn't allowed outside? How long have you had him locked up?" Hawks had one too many questions floating through his head, and a whole lot of anger directed at Gang Orca.

Gang Orca sighed and explained. "He's got Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease, have you heard of it?" Hawks nodded slightly. "It doesn't allow the necessary amount of oxygen flow from the lungs, not curable and could make life hell."

Gang Orca continued without hesitation. "In the face of any stressful situation, Shouji has the tendency to panic, and that's not something he can afford to do with this disease. It could be fatal for him."

Hawks nodded, taking it in. "So you're saying he could die if he had a bad panic attack?" Gang Orca nodded and added. "This type of job isn't exactly easy to deal with as you know, it's extremely stressful, and as a child he was constantly sick with it because of his tendency to panic on top of his lungs."

Hawks looked outside, where he had sent the kids. "So you're telling me I just sent a ticking time bomb out into the world, where he hasn't been since he was...?" Gang Orca supplied an age, and Hawks let out a pained noise before taking off and running out into the streets.

He had to find them before his trouble magnet brother got his new friend killed.

[Part 2 end]

[Sorry my writing speed has decreased a hell of a lot, I've got school stuff going on, but I should be moving a little quicker-]

[See you next time ;0]

[90slevi]

First Date {Denki Kaminari x Reader}

Finally some wholesome fluff because why not? And who better to write fluff about that our Denki Kaminari? :)

Kaminari was shaking.

Not with fear or anything, but because he was excited. And nervous, of course, but mainly excited.

Ever since he'd left U.A to become a pro-hero, he'd had no time to go out looking for relationships or start dating, but now he had more time on his hands, he'd finally met someone online. Someone who wouldn't use him for a free meal or someone who'd use him for money and fame. Finally, he'd met someone who seemed to genuinely like him for who he was, and he couldn't be more excited as he sat in the half-full cafe, his phone in his hand as he messaged his best friend about the new girl he was just about to meet for the ninth time that day.

Nibbling on his thumb, he looked out of the large window beside him as people walked past, looking for the kind face he'd seen in many pictures and in one call. Yes, he'd only called you once, and it'd lasted over four hours as the two of you bonded over music, heroes, comic books and more interests of yours. As Kaminari thought about you more, the more excited he became; the butterflies in his stomach became heavier and heavier, and he was waiting for the cafe door to open so the weight on his shoulders could disappear.

You felt just as excited.

Focusing on your studies at a regular, non-hero school had been tough, and you'd spent so many nights revising that you hadn't had chance to jump into the dating scheme, and now you'd met the perfect person.

Denki Kaminari, the current 19th Pro-Hero with lightning-blonde hair and a contagious smile that made your heart race, was the man you'd started talking to. He was a man not only with an attractive face, but he had the sweetest personality too, something you focused on so much more. He was incredibly funny, most of the time unintentionally, and had a heart of gold, even sending you a cute little letter in the mail with a box of pocky as a gift only two weeks after messaging you. When he asked you on a date, there was no way in hell you were denying him. You even called up sick to your job just so you could go meet him, which wasn't something he needed to know.

As you walked down the street towards the cafe you were supposed to meet him in, you checked your watch and panicked. Five minutes late. Again. Picking up the pace, you held your bag close to your chest and adjusted your skirt so it wasn't rising, and finally met the entrance, praying to whoever that you'd come to the right place. Pushing open the door, you walked inside, the sweet, warm smells of blueberry muffins and strawberry jam hit your nostrils, and you couldn't help but become rather giddy.

Quickly, you scanned the cafe. It had a really pretty interior, with modern, brown and beige walls and large mirrors and windows. Vintage picture frames hung as decoration and a few realistic plants were sitting on a shelf on the far right. Tables were set neatly in rows, with couples and families sitting on almost all of them. Nibbling your thumb, you stood on your toes, looking for the familiar tuft of blonde hair that belonged to Kaminari, and when you saw him, your heart almost stopped.

He wasn't looking up; instead, he had his nose in one of the menus, presumably ordering a drink for himself before you arrived, and you rushed enthusiastically over, catching his attention instantly.

His hazel eyes lit up, and he waved happily as you arrived at the table. Standing up, he was unsure of what to do. He really wanted to hug you, but he had no idea what your boundaries were and he didn't want to overstep them already. Handshake? No, that's stupid. High-five? Completely out of the question.

Thankfully, you caught on to his mini-dilemma and pulled him into a hug, his arms wrapping around your shoulders for a few seconds before pulling away. You gave him a quick squeeze before sitting down, dropping your bag beside you and beaming.

"I'm so glad you could make it!" Kaminari said, a hint of pink appearing on his cheeks as he admired you. "You look so pretty!"

"Thank you!" you grinned, clapping your hands together at the compliment. "You look lovely too. And yeah, I got a little nervous that I'd come to the wrong place, but I'm here now! Say, how long have you been here for?"

"Only ten minutes, don't worry," he answered, and you quickly apologised for being late. "Hey! Don't worry about it! I usually get here a little early, anyway."

"Ah, so someone's eager," you joked, giggling as he became flustered. "Don't worry, you're not the only one."

His eyes lit up, and his smile seemed to be uncontrollable at this point. As mentioned before, you found his grin extremely contagious, and you couldn't help but return it as you glanced towards the menu put in front of you.

"What made you choose this place?" you asked, cocking your head at him as you glanced towards the drinks, becoming interested in the unique cocktails and milkshakes the cafe made. One that really attracted your eye was a vanilla milkshake that had a dollop of strawberry ice-cream on top with a swirl of whipped cream and marshmallows, and it seemed to peak Kaminari's curiosity too.

"Well, two of my friends bought their dates here, and they ended up getting together in the end, so why not give it a shot?" he said, and you chuckled at his explanation. You were so glad he was just as eager as you were about him, and you prayed this all went well because he was probably the sweetest guy you'd ever met. "Ah, sorry, was that a bit too up-front?"

"No, I feel the same," you grinned, trying your best to comfort the poor guy. He seemed to be trying his best but couldn't help himself from rushing, and you couldn't blame him. He was a single pro-hero, while all his other friends were in relationships and one or two even married. "It's nice to be honest!"

"Heh, I'm glad you think that, because from what I've heard, other girls think it's weird," Kaminari chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

"Well, you've clearly not met many girls who like you for who you are," you beamed, and his eyes, once again, lit up in excitement. "But I do, so hello!"

Kaminari was completely and utterly in love.

However, before their conversations could continue, a waitress wandered over, wearing the cute uniform you used to wear before beginning a different job. A cute, light brown blouse and black trousers with a beige apron over the top was the perfect uniform, at least in your eyes.

"Good evening, guys!" the woman said enthusiastically, a wide smile on her face as she held a clipboard in her hands. "May I take your drink orders?"

"Sure!" Kaminari replied, glancing over to you to make sure you were ready. However, to give you a tiny bit more time, he decided to speak first. "I'll take the iced coffee with chocolate sauce and vanilla ice-cream, please!"

"And you?" the waitress asked politely to you as she wrote down Kaminari's drink. You pouted as you read one of the options you were particularly drawn to, and the blonde couldn't help but watch at the cute things you did without realising it.

When he'd called you for the first time, he'd picked up on so many of your adorable mannerisms that even you yourself hadn't noticed, and he couldn't help but poke fun of you every time you did them. Now, he had found another to tease you about, and he couldn't wait to see your pretty reaction to it.

"I'll have this!" you said, pointing to the name you struggled to pronounce. The waitress glanced over and nodded, noting it down. It was the vanilla milkshake you'd spotted earlier, and you thanked her as she walked away. "Yo, how the hell do you say that?!"

Kaminari looked over, his eyebrows furrowed, and he almost snorted at the funny spelling. "You're asking the one who had dyslexia, Y/n. I have absolutely no idea what that says."

Grimacing, you wondered why the hell you'd chosen the drink you couldn't say, but thankfully you'd saved yourself from embarrassment by NOT saying it. However, Kaminari had a smug grin on his face, and you cocked your head at him in confusion.

"Y'know how I was making fun of you for sticking your tongue out when you write the other day?" he asked, and you nodded slowly, hoping to dear God you didn't just do that. "Well, you pouted when you read the menu, and it was probably the cutest thing ever."

"Oh no!" you complained, a laugh escaping your lips as you buried your face into your hands. Kaminari joined in with your laughter, watching as the tips of your ears went pink. "You're joking! I haven't done that since I was a damn kid!"

"Well, you've done it again," Kaminari grinned, glad he'd bought it up just to see your reaction. "And I love it!"

About an hour and a half passed, the two of you joking around and laughing as you ordered meals and deserts. You completely adored the guy, his optimism, positivity, and enthusiasm rubbing off on you so much that you now had a better outlook on life. He constantly threw cheesy pick-up lines at you that you'd expect to hear in middle-school, but at the same time, it was refreshing and fun instead of completely cringy, and at one point, you played footsie under the table to the point where you hit your ankle on the table leg so badly you audibly said ouch. He didn't even judge you when you dropped food on your shirt and cursed a little loudly by accident, instead laughing with you and grabbing a tissue as quickly as possible so it hopefully didn't stain your shirt.

And, because you were having so much fun, you didn't notice it get dark outside.

"Oh sugar," you muttered suddenly, glancing outside the window as the sun passed the horizon and the sky went from a light blue and orange to navy blue and purple. You gulped, becoming rather nervous, and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Kaminari noticed your sudden change in attitude, and he took your hand in concern.

"What's wrong?" he asked, genuinely caring.

"It's getting dark," you answered, nibbling on your finger. "And I walked here... I don't fancy getting attacked by a villain."

"I can always walk you home if you need it," Kaminari offered, and you looked at him guiltily, not wanting him to go all the way to your house as it'd take him longer to get home. "Y/n, if it means spending more time with you, then I really don't mind. In fact, I'd love that!"

Pink spread across your cheeks at the flirtatious compliment, and you nodded gently. Although you still felt pretty guilty, you wanted to spend more time with the guy, and that gave you a giddiness you hadn't felt since you were a teenager. That same giddiness you'd felt after falling in love for the first time. Hopefully, this time, you wouldn't be completely crushed.

"Split the bill?" you asked Kaminari, and he raised an eyebrow.

"I was gonna pay the whole thing!"

"Absolutely not!" you exclaimed, pulling your purse out of your bag and rummaging around for your card. "I'll pay exactly half. It's only fair, right?"

"If you insist," the blonde chuckled, taking out his own card and paying at the bar, where the same waitress was standing. You wandered over and did the same, pulling your jacket over your shoulders and eventually putting your card back in your bag. The two of you bid your farewells to the cafe owners, before wandering down the dark street.

It was obvious you were nervous, and with good reason, too. Only a year ago, you'd been walking alone from a friend's house and been attacked by a villain, who'd not only assaulted you but stole your bag too. It'd left you both traumatised and terrified of being alone in the dark, so it was suitable for Kaminari to offer to walk you home. He'd known this since the call you'd had, which you'd accidentally blurted out your deepest secret of having a fear of the dark. Of course, it was only natural for him to ask why, and you explained the whole story.

If anyone tried to hurt you, he'd absolutely tear them to shreds.

As the two of you walked, your hands eventually interlocked, your fingers linking with his as a cool autumn breeze danced around your body, leaving small goosebumps on your skin. A happy smile appeared on Kaminari's face as he gave your hand a squeeze, and you returned the little gesture.

"So, how far away is your house?" he asked, and you pointed down the street you were on.

"You go down there, turn left, and take another right," you explained, and he nodded. "It's not too far, about a ten-minute walk, but it's still a little scary."

"Yeah, I wasn't the biggest fan of the dark when I was younger," Kaminari chuckled, glancing down an alleyway as the two of you passed it. Since he became a professional hero within the top twenty ranks, he'd clearly become much more aware of his surroundings and even a little paranoid, praying he wasn't going to be ambushed. He had of course warned you of the dangers of dating a pro-hero, but you really didn't care. Whether he was a pro-hero or not, you loved him a lot. "And my house was right next to U.A, so it was pretty ridiculous!"

You giggled, imagining what Kaminari was like when he was younger. You'd been told by one of his friends that he'd been a total flirt and a bit of an idiot, and you saw that he hadn't exactly changed much. Which was good, because he was definitely your type.

Eventually, you reached your house with no problem at all. At one point, he'd let a small spark of electricity emit from his hand to light the way when you became particularly nervous passing the same alleyway you'd been assaulted in, but you sighed with relief when you entered your warm home.

"Thank you so much for the amazing evening," you beamed, and Kaminari grinned.

"It's honestly been such a great day, so thank YOU," he replied, and you smiled at his comments. "I really hope you're free tomorrow because I've got some free time that afternoon and I'd love to call you again."

"I can make time if you'd like," you chuckled, and his smile grew. "I should finish work at about 4pm."

"That's great! I think I finish at about 5, so we can call if you want!" Kaminari exclaimed enthusiastically, and at that moment, something just took over.

You kissed him.

Your lips met his so suddenly that the blonde was in so much shock to even move, but once he realised what was going on, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed into the kiss, his slightly chapped yet perfectly-shaped lips merging with yours. And, once you pulled away, he gave you a quick peck on the forehead for good measure. Your face was pink, surprised with what you'd done, and so was Kaminari.

"Well, I'll be seeing you tomorrow," he said, making you laugh. "Have a great night, Y/n."

"You too, Denki!" you beamed, waving as he left the premises. “Get home safely, and sleep well!”