#it doesn’t occure to him that any of this might be weird or slightly impossible for normal children

[spacedace]

Bruce is grateful for the fact that Damian has made friends, he is.

He's happy that his son has met children his own age at school and befriended them. That he is growing from that prickly, unhappy, scarred child he'd first been when he'd come to live with Bruce. That his friends are even normal kids - baring Jon, who is still normal enough despite being the son of Superman and occasionally a super hero himself - with no links to anything strange or dangerous or illegal.

"Oh, sup B."

He just wished that his son's friends were also just a little less...feral.

"Hello Elle."

Elle Nightingale gave him a little wave with the lemon she was holding - or as best as she could considering the space she was working with - and smiled cheekily at him. Bruce felt a headache budding behind his eyes.

"I thought Alfred banned you from the kitchen?" She shifted a bit, nudging a bottle of milk - farm fresh, courtesy of the Kents, passed along via Jon as thanks for looking after him for the weekend. Bruce wished he'd had the foresight to expect that Jonathan Kent staying over for the weekend would mean that Elle, her cousin Billy and their friend BL - the children refused to say the girl’s real name, likely to spite Damian, and thr initials had been a compromise to calling her Box Lunch - would take it as them being permitted to stay over for so long as well. Damian had just given Bruce a an unimpressed look when he'd expressed his surprise at the sudden influx of twelve year olds in his home. As if Bruce was disappointing him at being so foolish as to think his entire pack of hellhounds wouldn't be invading enmass.

"Just getting a snack." He assured her, not wanting her to being the wrath of Alfred down upon his head. The hellions liked doing that, for some reason. "I don't suppose you could tell me what exactly you're doing in my fridge." Bruce tried, looking at the girl curled up in what should have been a deeply uncomfortable position between a few shelves of the large appliance.

Elle grinned. Her canines looked a little too sharp in the odd light of the fridge. Bruce really had to stop thinking of his sons friends as demonic hellions, he was starting to impose impossible features on them when he was sleep deprived.

"We're playing hide and seek." She made direct, unblinking eye contact with him as she brought the whole lemon to her mouth and took a bite out of it like it was an apple. "It’s Day's turn to seek." She added, lemon juice dripping down her chin as she swallowed her bite, rind and all.

Well at least she was getting enough vitimin C.

"Right." He nodded, deciding that it wasn't cowardice that led him not wanting to get involved. No, it was just...good parenting. Letting the kids be kids. It was a sleepover, and Damian was actually playing a game! That was something to be encouraged! Bruce wasn't fleeing from this particular group of children's brand of chaos at all. "...could you hand me one of the fruit cups Alfred made earlier?"

Elle obliged on the condition Bruce didn't tell Damian about her hiding spot and returned to happily eating her...whole lemon...as he shut the fridge door on her.

As he returned to his office he glanced out one of the manor's large windows long enough to see Billy stick his head out from the top of the twelve foot tall topiaries out on the front lawn, checking to see if Damian was about. Bruce shook his head, kids and their ability to climb impossible structures never ceased to amaze him. Billy should be careful not to keep trying to peak for Damian though, he was going to end up getting found that way.

[hehebread]

[BKDK] Izuku keeps mentioning a Kacchan to reporters and they think that's his gf

this was a request on twt that i had way too much fun writing. warning for suggestive language!

--

“And is there…. a special person….or a group of people you would like to thank on air today? Anyone who inspired you? Anyone you would attribute your success to? An image of victory per say?”

Izuku’s eyes glimmer as the bright lights of the studio reflect on his irises. “Oh!” He jumps in his seat, his perfectly- coiffed curls bouncing as he nods frantically to the show’s host. “Yes! Yes!” Leaning forward with his hands on his leg, the camera zooms in on his face where the blush is painting his cheeks. “I wouldn’t be the hero I am today if it wasn’t for Kacchan!”

And it’s as if an earthquake alert dropped on the talk show. The host grows this devious grin on his face as he turns to the camera team and says, “Well, well, well, behind every great man is a woman after all.”

Izuku isn’t quite sure why the host is bringing his mother into this since the interview is reaching its end and he has already discussed her influence in detail very early on, but he doesn’t get a chance to ponder.

The host, Yamaguchi-san, leans into Izuku’s space with renowned interest and an interesting glint in his eyes. Izuku feels himself sweating in his oversized maroon-striped suit.

“So, Midoriya-san, Hero Deku, Rising Symbol of Equity and Hope, can you tell us more about … Kacchan?” His voice goes higher at the last syllable, almost sing songs, and Izuku is not sure if he should be worried or not, but he won’t pass an opportunity to gush about Kacchan!

“Ah, Kacchan is very … confident, hardworking, strong, and smart. Kacchan is a hero who knows how to lead a team and perform under pressure, an inspiration to both myself and our entire graduating class, and a”—Izuku can feel the heat rise in his face as he tries to hide in his colour— “a shining star who was closer to me than All Might!”

The host makes a loud ‘AWWW’ noise at the same time as the small audience in the studio. “My, my! Sounds like Kacchan is very important to Hero Deku! Don’t be shy! Tell us more! Is there a physical description to go with your precious person?”

“Ahm!” Izuku fiddles with his fingers as he avoids the gazes on him. There a long beat of silence before he manages to say, “Muscles….Blonde…..Sharp eyes….” With a vague gesture to his middle section, he mumbles, barely audible, “Big, ugh…..” Heart.

“OOOOOOOOOH!” The host goes wild and so does the audience. “So are we talking Hiromi Oshima type big or maybe Rio Natsume, or aaaah Aki Hoshino even ….?”

Izuku feels his ears ring in humiliation as he tries to process what they’re talking about. Something Kacchan has in common with all these beautiful women is his big successful career so Izuku nods. “Yes!” Then, a thought occurs and he rises in his chair. “Even bigger!”

After all, Kacchan’s net worth is higher than these ladies.

“BIGGER?”

“The biggest!”

“Oh my god!” The host is losing his mind now! “And is it … natural? Or did Kacchan get a little help from professionals?”

“No, no, no! Kacchan was a natural ever since we were in school together!” Izuku’s eyes shine with a fire to defend his childhood best friend, no longer trying to hide in his big suit. “No one helped Kacchan get this big!”

“That’s … amazing!” The host shakes his head in both awe and disbelief. “Now we want to see Kacchan in action! When the hero works around the city, defeating villains, does the size get in the way?”

Does Kacchan’s fame get in the way of his work? “Sometimes,” Izuku muses, “But Kacchan never lets the restless and perky nuisances stop him, y’know. With a little shake from his hands, and a few colourful words of wisdoms, nothing gets in the way!” Izuku laughs as he remembers Kacchan’s way of dismissing fans and reporters alike.

“Wow!”

“Of course, there are times where Kacchan’s big firm moulds become springy and hard to control, but I have yet to see an instance where that has been a major issue. ”

Kacchan is still having some adjustment problems with his new hero costume, particularly his grenade mould, but that’s as far as distractions go.

“Does Kacchan not use support?”

“Uhm, only when it’s a dire situation! Sometimes I’m even allowed to provide assistance!”

“You must be very lucky…”

“I am! It feels … exciting and … very special! Kacchan doesn’t trust just anyone, y’know! I can never quite get used to the trust we built together. We are one unit working together.”

“Do you use your hands…. Or something else?”

“Oh, hands! Yes! But anything works really! Whatever Kacchan is comfortable with and needs at the time. Black Whip, combo moves, an iron grip...”

The host furrow his brows and seems to be considering Izuku’s answer before he opens his mouth again. “Uhm, never mind.” He then turns to the camera, smile back on. “Our time is almost running out! Thank you, hero Deku for your time! We look forward to seeing you again in the big screen!”

--

The next day, Izuku wakes up to the headline: Hero Deku And His Mysterious Busty New Girlfriend: The Beautiful and Spunky Kacchan!

He’s doomed

--

He sees Kacchan early the next day.

Having spent the morning talking to tabloids and the host show agents about the misunderstanding and whether or not it was possible to take down the episode at least, Izuku slumps his head on his desk in defeat.

Oh, this is very bad.

He starts thumping his forehead on the wood in sync with the bleeps noises in the phone, already planning his funeral in his head.

Okay, so it seems the suspense around this girlfriend is raking up his popularity, but god, at what cost.

“Nerd, we need to talk.”

Izuku’s soul near flies to the roof at the sound of the door to his office slamming close. Fuckfuckfuck.

Kacchan stands before him with his hand on his hip, teeth snarled and looking ready to tear his flesh open. Oh, this is going to be fun!

After flashing a haughty glare at the glass door to scare away the nosy friends hanging about, Kacchan continues, “About the interview.”

Of course! Yes! His final hour is approaching. “Haahahaha, what about it?” Izuku feels his undershirt cling to his torso, sweat collecting on his face. He directs a shaky hand to a nearby chair. “Feel free to take a seat, Kacchan! You want me to get you anything? Water, tissues, uhm, a knife, a body sized bag, or uhhh, a shovel? I think I have some spare sheets of paper if you’d like to give me a chance to—“

“So…” Kacchan starts.

“PLEASE TELL MY MUM I LOVE HER!”

“…this Kacchan, huh?” Having completely ignored every single word Izuku just said, Kacchan crosses his arms and scowls. “Is she strong? How come I never heard about her before? Since when did you start dating this gravure idol and pro hero, huh?”

“Wha—?”

“So, you just go around giving everyone pretty nicknames now?” Kacchan snorts and his expression darkens before he slams his hands on Izuku’s desk. He looks at Izuku from under his chin, and Izuku swear he can see flames behind his eyes. He growls, “What’s her actual name?”

An alarm bell rings in Izuku’s ears and he stutters, “Ka— Ka— Kat— Katsuko! Bakugan Katsuko…….”

Kacchan’s expression doesn’t change and Izuku feels his heart leap to his throat. God, Kacchan is gonna call his bluff at any minute now. He’s going to reject him then he’s going to break his heart and his bones.

“What’s she like?”

Kacchan shifts forward slightly and Izuku is just know noticing the ample cleavage in clear view. Right there. In front of Izuku’s face. “Uhm. Ah, she’s very, ugh, im- pec— impeccable!! And strong! Muscl— mature!! Breasty too – I mean, pretty! PRETTY!” Izuku bites his tongue then swallows thickly. “Beautiful, actually!” Lifting his gaze to meet Kacchan, he whispers, “Gorgeous. Just the most amazing person in my life.”

Kacchan is staring intently with his sharp red eyes, and Izuku feels his chest swell with confidence he never had before. “Kacchan is my inspiration, and I just … love … Kacchan so much. I wish I had the courage to tell him— um, her that.”

“Are you two serious?” Kacchan asks, impassive but there is silent rage hiding behind his words.

Something flashes quickly through Kacchan’s eyes before he narrows them. It takes Izuku a second to recognise that it’s /hurt/ and then he realise what he has just done.

“No, no, no!” Izuku backtracks immediately. “I don’t even know her that well! In fact, she kinda smells and definitely has sweating problem.” Izuku needs to do damage control and come clean NOW. “You know what? I will call her and break up with her right now. Ha ha ha.”

What the hell is he saying? Who is he going to call?

Kacchan stands up while Izuku fumbles with his phone. “Don’t be a dick,” he says, before he heads to the door.

Izuku jumps from his chair and is ready to chase after him when Kacchan stops him. “How big?”

“Huh?”

“You said Bakugan was big.”

Ah, yes, he did. Tragically.

“Um, y’know just…” Izuku motions with his hands like he’s moulding two doughballs, palms up and fingers wiggling because he’s lost control of his life once he accepted his funeral date, but that’s not even happening anymore so what is he doing really.

He then makes am hourglass shape in the air and belatedly realises that he’s just outlining Kacchan’s shape in front of him. Izuku retreats his hands and puts them behind his back in shame.

Kacchan is looking at him funny. Like he’s trying to figure something out.

“Does she shoot aerial bomb or something? Is that a combat-style quirk?”

Izuku blinks.

Kacchan just sneers and turns around.

“Whatever. I’m doing a photoshoot this afternoon. The Sekushī clothing line is dropping a new summer set and they asked me to model.”

“Se- Sekushi?? You mean, like—” Izuku feels his face go impossibly red. “You’re saying that, you’re going to wear, like…..” his voice goes down to a whisper when he says “…..a b-b-b-b-b-bikini?”

“Swimwear,” Kacchan turns to say over his shoulder, “Among other things.”

The sexy smirk he sends Izuku’s way is doing very, very weird things to Izuku’s body and imagination, things too inappropriate to describe in a work setting.

Kacchan leaves but not without offering the most dangerous challenge to Izuku’s mental wellbeing. “Feel free to drop in.”

Oh, he absolutely will.

“Bring Bakugon.”

Oh, he absolutely will not.

Actually….

Maybe, he will.

Kacchan is going to ruin Izuku

[kiame-sama]

What if Killua were to find out Illumi is out to get the big sister Reader either trying to be with her or kill her? Also how would Gon react as well? Side note imagine both Hisoka and Illumi going after big sister Reader and Gon and Killua shielding her away from them idk I just find that being adorable ^_^

This evolved far more than I had expected it to. I honestly was just trying to make a cute little scenario and it turned into this. Someone stop my sinful hands.

Warnings; Overprotective little bros, stalking, Hisoka's general behavior, Illumi never blinks, 12-13 year olds are not good at keeping secrets, surprise guest appearance!

"We should go."

"Hm? But we just got here."

You glanced down at Killua, seeing him gazing somewhere away from the three of you. Both you and Gon wore confused expressions, as Killua was the one who wanted to go the forest to train in the first place. Now he was saying he wanted to leave.

"We shouldn't stay. Let's go."

Killua gripped your hand and pulled you with him, quickly walking away from the area and refusing to look back. Gon followed and kept pace as the three of you moved to a more populated area in the city you had stopped in. Gon heard something about a powerful Nen user and wanting to see them.

Naturally, you and Killua were alright with going anywhere Gon chose, seeing as usually Gon took the initiative on most things. Training was just a typical thing for you three even though none of you honestly needed to train. You couldn't train your nen due to the fact your nen abilities were the kind that could only be cataclysmic or laughably weak with no inbetweens.

If anything, you just accompanied the boys to keep them from making their usual poor decisions. Seeing who can survive going down a massive waterfall is not typically a good idea, but one they've tried several times prior. You were basically an unpaid nanny and elder sibling to the boys.

Recently, they had been acting more suspicious than usual. They would randomly leave places while dragging you with them, checking over their shoulders, constantly trying to direct your attention, and all sorts of other things. It was like they were trying to keep a secret from you, but doing it poorly.

A good part of you wanted to go off on your own to see what on Earth had the two boys so stirred up, but they were insistent on keeping you with them. You wondered if they were just messing with you by playing some kind of game, or if there really was something they were trying to keep from you. At this point, you were tempted to just flat out ask what their deal was.

~~~~~~~~

"Wait, Illumi too!?"

"Shh! Keep it down! Someone's gonna hear you."

"But why is your brother after (y/n) too?"

"Probably wants to get to me or something by using her."

"Wait, does he want to hurt her or not?"

"Don't know. Don't want to find out. What about Hisoka? Figured out what his deal is?"

"Well, he likes fighting people who are strong, right?"

"But wasn't he talking like a pervert when he asked about her?"

"I guess... But I think that's just how he is all the time."

Killua frowned, looking over at the hotel bed (y/n) was sleeping in. Apparently the both of them have a common goal, keeping (y/n) safe. Killua hadn't known Hisoka was after her, but he knew Illumi was. He knew how Illumi usually approached his targets, but Illumi was acting more obvious than usual. Like he wanted to be noticed.

Gon knew Hisoka had been following them for a while, and that he had an interest in (y/n) after she used one of her nen attacks to create a distraction during a fight not too long ago. He was aware with how closely Hisoka was following them, and he was trying to keep (y/n) far away from the homicidal man. It seemed he and Killua were both doing their damndest to protect the woman they saw as a big sister.

"So we have to keep both of them away from her?"

"Might be a good idea."

"Should we tell her?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Killua just sighed, knowing no matter how he explained it, Gon would not take it as an answer and would just ask more questions. Even as he glanced out the hotel window, he kept lookout for any sign of either of the two men. He would not let Illumi or Hisoka hurt (y/n) no matter what.

~~~~~~~~

"Well, look who's here~♠"

"What do you want, Hisoka?"

"So cold! If you must know, I'm here for that lovely creature Killua and Gon travel with."

"... She's mine."

"Oh~? Finally have an interest in someone? Looks like I'll just have to steal her away then."

The black-haired assassin simply stared back at his red-haired associate, feeling a vague level of irritation bubble up inside of him. He had been following the makeshift family group for a good while now and had recently made his decision on what to do with the woman that traveled with his younger brother. He had been considering simply killing her just to get her out of the way while also weakening Killua, but his father had come up with a better solution to the problem.

From what he had been told, (Y/n) had interesting and impressive nen that his father and grandfather had been witness to when they had gone to retrieve Killua. Apparently she had an impressive level of control over natural disasters and could bring them about with her nen. Tornados, tsunamis, earthquakes, volcanos, even meteor showers should the timing be right.

That in and of itself was impressive, but standing up against his father and grandfather was simply amazing. It would be seen as foolish for anyone to face the two alone, but she had only been distracting them long enough to allow Killua time to flee before doing the same. Granted, the two had not been out to kill her specifically, but they weren't against it either.

There was also the fact that she shielded Killua from being injured and put her life on the line to keep him safe. All of these things made it rather clear she was a prime choice to be Illumi's wife.

"She has Killua's trust and can control him better than most. That paired with her nen abilities, she would make an ideal wife."

"Not if I steal her away first. Oh, I can just imagine how delicious the battle will be~ And the added bonus of fucking her once our battle is done~!"

"She doesn't even know who you are."

"... What?"

"She has never actually met you, right? You've only seen one example of her strength and she wasn't even focusing on you."

"Fine. Does she know you?"

"... She knows my family, which is more than you can say."

Hisoka couldn't stop the tisk of annoyance that came from him or the way his grin fell. Illumi was right on that, at least. His lovely (y/n) didn't know who he was or have any contact with those who knew him other than Gon. And if Gon's behavior was anything to go by, he would have a tough time getting close to the woman.

Hisoka turned to continue prodding at Illumi before a smooth and silky voice interrupted him, sounding out from the shadows.

"It seems I have you both beat."

~~~~~~~~

"What do you mean? We've not been acting weird!"

You couldn't help the way that your face reflected just how little you believed the boy standing in front of you. Killua could lie well enough, Gon couldn't tell a convincing lie to save his life, and you already knew both well enough to tell when they were lying. Being fed up with their behavior, you were ready to set in on a full scolding session if they didn't tell you what you wanted to know.

Both boys were doing their best to avoid your gaze and search for a way out of the situation they found themselves in. Killua refused to make eye-contact and a nervous little blush took over his fair cheeks. Gon had that awkward grin and laugh as he tried to weasel his way out of your questioning.

"Boys, for fuck's sake-"

"It's certainly been a while since we last had the chance to meet, (y/n)."

You quickly turned on your heel, guarding the two boys unconsciously from the newcomer. To your surprise, however, you had no reason to worry the moment you saw the mysterious man standing before you. You knew that fur-trimmed coat anywhere and you could already feel the smile pulling up the corner of your lips.

"Chrollo!"

The man smirked slightly at your happy tone as you greeted him, not noticing your additional two observers or the dumbfounded expressions on the faces of everyone other than yourself and Chrollo. Killua was the first to break the silence, clearly stirred up by the sudden turn of events that had taken place.

"Wait, you know him!?"

You chuckled softly, turning back to the white-haired boy with a relaxed smile on your face. The incredulous tone he had taken did not deter or bother you, having actually expected something similar to occur.

"Know him? I grew up with him! He's a childhood friend, of mine. My big brother is one of the original members of the troupe! Of course I know Chrollo."

"But, wait, they call him 'boss'! They never use his name!"

"Yeah, there's no way I'm calling him 'boss' or anything other than his name. Maybe 'friend' but that almost seems too generic."

You hummed in thought, turning away from the gobsmacked boys and back to those familiar eyes, which had yet to leave your figure.

"It seems we've both grown up quite a bit since we last spoke. Though it seemed impossible, you're somehow more beautiful than ever."

"Chrollo..."

A deep flustered blush make your cheeks burn under his relaxed gaze, feeling a kind of giddy excitement in response to his words. You had to admit, you may have been harboring a slight crush for Chrollo since your childhood days and his flattering words were just icing on the cake. A cake you desperately wanted to have a piece of.

"That's cheating!"

The sudden upset voice pulled your attention away from the handsome man to your previously ignored audience. A man with bloody red hair and clown-like face-paint seemed to be more than a little frustrated as he stared at Chrollo. Next to him stood a man with long black hair and emotionless eyes, like a doll's or a shark's, deep pits of nothingness.

Judging from the first man's response, something more seemed to be going on and you wanted answers.

"Okay, just what in the hell is happening?"

You huffed indignantly, hands on your hips as you scanned over the five males who stood around you. Surprisingly, the man with doll eyes was the first to break the silence.

"It would seem a competition to earn your affections has begun."

"Wait, Illumi, you're not trying to kill (y/n)??"

"I was, at first. But more recently I have been attempting to split her away from you and approach her."

"What? Why in the hell do you want to do that?"

"She is the ideal wife for me. Father, Grandfather, Mother, and Great-Grandfather all agree that I should wed her as soon as possible."

"... You... YOU WANT TO MARRY (Y/N)??"

"I believe I have already stated that."

You were caught off guard by the nonchalant way the man spoke, as if he were discussing something as simple as going to the store instead of talking about marrying you. The red-head seemed to be increasingly frustrated and had yet to move his irritated gaze away from you and Chrollo.

"I'd love to fight her first, but I'm not against tying her down to keep as my personal little toy~"

"I won't let you kill (y/n)!"

"Oh, Gon~ Don't look at me like that. I'm not going to kill her. Well, not completely, at least~ I plan on enjoying my fight with her and then enjoying her body even if she's within an inch of death. Is that so bad?"

You suddenly felt rather unsafe near the two men who had just openly admitted to lusting after you and potentially following you during your travels. Not to mention the red-head basically plainly stated he wanted to badly hurt you and beat you before having sex with you. You then turned your gaze to Chrollo, hoping beyond all belief he wasn't playing the same game as the other two.

"My intentions haven't changed for quite a while. I've always found you attractive. I simply refused to let these two scuffle over you when I've had my eyes on you for a while."

"..."

You almost felt like the world was spinning or that you had been punched several times without realizing it. Your childhood friend and crush just openly stated his interest in you, which left you floored with emotions. A clown just spoke about wanting to use you for his pleasure in a fight and during sex. And a living doll basically proposed to you without proposing.

What?

"Wait- Kill, Gon- you two know them?"

"Yeah. We met Hisoka during the Hunter's exam, and Illumi is my eldest brother. There was a big fight between Kurapika and the Phantom Troupe and we got kidnapped so we met Chrollo and the other phantoms."

"... What-? Wait, so that means your father and grandfather- who I have fought against- somehow decided from that fight that I would be a good wife for their eldest son??"

"I guess so. You are super strong and your nen is powerful as all hell. Besides, fighting in my family is a normal thing. That's probably the quickest way to become a friend of the family, actually. Fight well against someone strong in the family, don't die while fighting, and you may as well be an unofficial family member."

"..."

"... You okay, big sis?"

"..."

"Um..? (Y/n)?"

"..."

"Did you go into shock or something?"

Killua cocked his head to the side, watching you stand unblinking as you tried to process everything that happened. It was kinda like you just became a statue after being told everything, which didn't bode well for the two boys. Gon and Killua exchanged a glance, as if trying to confirm what had happened.

"Gon, what do we do?"

"... Run?"

"I'm good with that. I'll grab (y/n), you get us out of here?"

"Yeah!"

Despite the fact that you could hear and see everything still, it felt as if your body had fully shut down. Had you been more in control, you probably would have scolded the boys for making their plan out-loud, but at least their plan involved keeping you safe. Even as you found yourself being carried by the same boy you watched over, you couldn't help but question what you were going to do now.

[delimeful]

not always what they seem (2)

warnings: inappropriate jokes, remus being remus, mild panic attack, fear, miscommunication

long overdue commission for @legendsgates​! thank you for your patience and support 💚

Chapter 1

-

Janus watched the giant creatures around them devolve into more of that buzzing, clicking language as Remus waved his arm around enthusiastically in response to them.

“What are you-- Stop that,” the emo kid hissed, his whole body going tense, and Janus leaned back slightly just in time to avoid getting caught in the half-tackle that Remus was subjected to. “What if they just asked who wants to be first to be dissected, huh?”

“Oooh, kinky,” Remus cackled from where the kid had pinned his wrists to the floor. “Do you think they’ll probe me first?”

Janus rolled his eyes, and then stiffened as a shadow fell over them. “Kid—!”

He could see the moment the red alien’s hand made contact, the kid’s face immediately draining of all color as those strange talons wrapped around him and started to lift.

Almost instantly, Remus surged to his feet, grabbing the kid’s arm before he could be lifted out of range. The hold was so tight it almost looked painful, but the kid clung back desperately. He looked smaller than ever without the bulky hoodie around him, his frame barely concealed by a worn, slightly oversized band shirt.

Remus’s face twisted into a snarl. “Hey, hands to yourself, you shitty Mothra rip-off!”

Janus quickly rose to his feet as well, looking up past the kid’s terrified gaze to see the alien had paused, it’s strange antenna protrusions twitching. The facial features didn’t give him much to work with, so he attempted to see what the creature was seeing, contextless: the kid tackling Remus for big showy arm movements, Remus coming after him. Was it trying to seperate them like a pet owner with a pair of squabbling dogs?

He shifted forwards, setting a hand on Remus’ shoulder and expertly drawing all attention to himself. Remus glanced at him and then reluctantly cut off his litany of extremely descriptive curses, though his grip on the kid didn’t falter. Janus tilted his head back to carefully lock eyes with the alien.

“No. Stop,” he spoke with a stern emphasis. “Put him down.”

He reached up to grab the kid’s arm as well, tugging lightly, and then repeated himself slowly.

“Double D, buddy, I’d bet all three of my balls that they don’t understand English,” Remus said, “no matter how slow you say it.”

Janus didn’t break eye contact with the giant, moving to point at the kid and then the floor of their enclosure emphatically. “That doesn’t mean we can’t communicate with them.”

At the perfect moment to dramatically accentuate his point, the alien seemed to concede, lowering the kid down until his feet were touching the floor. The guy tore out of the oversized grip as soon as it loosened, nearly tumbling head over heels. Janus caught him by the arm, and Remus took the opportunity to jump forwards and click his teeth menacingly at the giant hand. The alien recoiled immediately, looking much like an elephant shying away from a mouse.

“I volunteer to get probed and this is how you fucks repay me? Just grabbing kids all willy-nilly? Have some respect!”

The kid muttered something, half-lost under his panicked breaths, and Remus turned to look at him. “What was that, short stack?”

“Virgil,” he repeated irritably. “It’s Virgil, not ‘kid’, definitely not ‘short stack’. I’m twenty years old, for fuck’s sake.”

Janus and Remus shared a glance over the newly-named Virgil’s head, and that was enough to set the man off into another fit of cackling laughter.

---

Roman watched, enthralled, as the little creature bedecked in green threw its head back and made a hair-raising clamor.

Intriguingly enough, the other two didn’t seem to react too strongly to such a loud outburst. The yellow one turned its face to the side as its tiny features pinched into an expression that Roman couldn’t quite decode, and the shaky purple one’s pale face seemed to shift color as it made an emphatic hand gesture of some sort. Patton would be taking plenty of notes later.

The motions, the expressions, they were all intentional and full of meaning, just like the pointing and sounds Yellow had made when Roman had tried to separate Purple from the group. He still didn’t quite grasp why the other specimens had responded so strongly; Purple had clearly been attacking, though thankfully no serious harm had occurred thanks to Roman swiftly jumping into action.

“This is incredible,” Logan murmured from beside him, and Roman couldn’t help but agree.

“There’s so much to analyze here,” he mumbled. “Any small animal would flee from a predator’s grasp, but they recognized that we’re sapient, and Yellow even approached instead to mediate!”

“Yellow?” Patton asked, a bit of teasing in his voice. “I thought your nicknames were always a bit wordier?”

“I can’t properly nickname someone unless I have their self-presentation and personality, Pat!” Roman defended. “It’s more of a… designation. After all, I can’t very well ask their names, can I?”

“I mean, we could certainly try!” Patton suggested with an optimistic lilt to his voice. “I’m not a linguist for nothing, y’know!”

“It might take some time to communicate intent, so I wouldn’t get your hopes up, Patton.” Logan’s ears flicked at the pleading look the Nihl sent him. “Still, I’ll admit there’s… no harm in a first attempt.”

Roman unsubtly chittered a laugh at his coworker’s expense, and Patton brightened immediately.

“Glad that you agree it’s… wordth a try!”

---

Janus was drawn away from the amusing argument going on between his fellow captives (the topic being how old one had to be to be an actual ‘for-realsies’ adult, federal law be damned) by two of the aliens simultaneously making odd, dragged out noises almost like stuttering groans.

“They sound like fucking zombies,” Virgil muttered from where he’d appeared at Janus’s shoulder. He’d snapped back to watching the three with blatant paranoia the moment they were loud enough to catch his notice.

The kid wasn’t subtle at all, but it wasn’t like he was wrong to be on guard. They were still abducted, regardless of how fantastical or impossible their captors seemed. Seeing how significant the size difference was, they’d have to work on escaping through… more cunning means.

Janus carefully held his position as the three giants crowded around the enclosure again, ignoring the way Virgil reached out to grip the back of his hoodie, either for comfort or in preparation to pull Janus from danger. This time, the three chattered amongst themselves for a long moment before going quiet and turning to the multiple-armed one.

Automatically, the humans mirrored the gesture, and the recipient of their attention met their gazes carefully one by one before placing a rigid, vertical hand under their chin and holding it there.

“Patton,” the alien said, slow and clear. It looked at them expectantly, and then repeated the phrase. “Patton.”

It was definitely some kind of word, that was clear enough. When not caught up in the rapid-fire chittering nature of the alien language, it was much easier to decipher.

“Patton?” Virgil muttered, and then squeaked when the alien stared at him with sudden intensity, hands flicking up and down erratically. Except for, Janus noted, the one still under its chin.

“Patton,” it said again, and then lowered the hand. Next to it, the insect-like one put a much bonier hand under its own angular chin.

“Roman,” it said, with a few subtle clicks that probably couldn’t be replicated by human mouths. Janus nodded, the pieces clicking into place. “Roman.”

Sure enough, next to make the hand gesture was the last alien, who introduced itself with a note of rippling bass overlapping with something like Logan. It was probably a bit mangled as he echoed it back, but different vocal chords made things difficult.

“You communing with them, Dee?” Remus asked from where he was crowding over his other shoulder. “That’s no sign language I’ve ever used. You speak alien and you’re not even going to share with the class?”

Janus elbowed him off, and then stepped forwards, and placed his own hand under his chin vertically, studying the ripple of reaction that got from the aliens.

“Dee,” he said, choosing to use his nickname as he had with the other humans.

The aliens immediately dissolved into excited chattering, which Janus patiently waited out. His fellow earthlings were similarly surprised.

“Wait, they’re doing introductions right now?” Virgil’s head whipped back and forth rapidly. Remus was gleefully attempting to mimic the weird, echoey quality of the voice of ‘Logan’ and getting concerningly close.

The one with all the arms-- Patton, it was Patton, he needed to remember if he wanted to make any progress at all here-- let out a string of syllables, slowed down but still nonsensical to them, and reached out.

Virgil jumped back and Remus started forwards, but Janus cut off all movement with a quickly snapped “Stop!”

Including the alien’s motion. He resisted the urge to smile at the success, instead looking up at Patton and tilting his head slightly. “What is it?”

Patton didn’t understand his words, but the questioning tone seemed to carry over, and after a beat, they moved their hand forward again just slightly before pausing, as though asking permission.

Janus weighed his options for a moment, before stepping forward. Virgil, who was still latched onto the back of him, came along with only a single sound of half-panicked protest. Patton correctly assumed that this was Janus giving his assent, and moved their hand closer, much slower this time.

With delicate, careful motions, they pushed Janus’s left hand out from under his chin, and then carefully curled a finger around his right arm, tugging that one up instead. Janus realized his mistake after a moment, and placed the right hand under his chin instead. Patton withdrew with a bright hum.

“What is happening,” Virgil hissed, and Janus glanced over his shoulder at him. The color had drained from his face, and his hand was white-knuckled where it was holding onto Janus’s borrowed outfit.

“I was mirroring their… introductory gesture, I suppose, and it seems that the meaning changes if I don’t use the correct hand. In this case, my right one,” he explained. “They’re going to want to know your name. Do you want me to assist?”    

Before he could answer, Remus was bouncing forwards, placing a hand under his own chin to gain the aliens’ attention.

“Call me I-Am-A-Buttface,” he half-shouted, grinning wildly.

---

“Did… did anyone else catch that one’s name?”

Roman watched as ‘D’ reached over and tugged the other tiny alien back by the collar roughly before they could speak again, astonished by how the other only let out what might be a cackle at the rough handling.

Not more astonished than he’d been by the alien catching on so quickly, though. Logan had been rendered completely speechless for a record amount of time, and Patton was still happily waving his hands back and forth at the success.

D visibly let out a long breath, and turned back to them, placing the correct hand under their chin this time. “D,” they repeated, and then switched things up.

They pulled the rambunctious one closer and placed their hand under that one’s chin, too. “Remus.”

“Are they-- introducing the other one as well?” Roman asked, and none of them could answer. ‘Remus’ didn’t seem to object, though they continued to speak in that rounded language. “That’s certainly a bit... unorthodox.”

D looked over at the only unnamed alien, the angry one that was standing at D’s shoulder, and after a moment, they jerked their head strangely. D seemed to understand, and held a hand palm-up in that one’s direction.

The unnamed alien put their hand in the proper introductory position, and had a few false starts before finally getting their name out. “Virgil.”

“Virgil,” Patton echoed excitedly. “That’s Virgil! Virgil, D, and Remus!”  

“Stars above,” Logan said faintly, “they really are just people but smaller.”

Roman couldn’t help but agree with the astounded sentiment. It hadn’t really sunk in before, but knowing the personal names of individual members of the unfamiliar species… “This could have been a disaster. Why were they labeled as primitive? Did the recorders even actually observe the planet they’re from? This seems a little hard to miss!”

“Easy, Roman,” Patton reached over to run a couple of gentle hands over his agitated wings. “You’re scaring the little guys.”

Sure enough, when he looked over, he could see all three of the tiny aliens were staring at him. He clicked an apology, and then echoed it in Common. “My apologies, small friends.”

“I agree with you, though… We can’t treat them as anything less, not like the tests would have us do. I’m not sure what our next step should be,” Patton admitted, and they turned as one to look at Logan. The Glanrim had a recognizably enthusiastic glint to his eyes.

“We’ll have to present our case to the Council. If we want them to believe us, we’ll need sufficient evidence that our specimens are sentient, sapient, and deserving of the standard rights,” he told them, tail swishing. “Our next step is to obtain that proof, through whatever means we can.”

Roman and Patton shared a glance before nodding in agreement. They turned towards the aliens with determination, and then stopped completely short.

“We’re… going to have to find some method of communicating our intentions,” Logan said, tapping his fingers on his shoulder in thought. “I believe the lack of such communication is what caused Virgil to behave so timidly in the first place.”

“Yeah, just reaching in and grabbing them probably isn’t a good idea,” Roman admitted. “What’s the plan, then?”

“Well, this can be a test in itself. Assuming that they can discuss amongst themselves what tests each of us did on the first run-through…”

---

Janus stared blankly at the three hands that had been set down along the floor of their enclosure, palms-up, each corresponding to one of the aliens. He turned to look at Virgil and Remus, just to ascertain that he was seeing the same thing they were.

Remus tilted his head to a painful-looking angle, and then nodded to himself. “It’s just like those choose-your-own-adventure books, except with huge aliens that we don’t know the intentions of! Fun!”  

“Oh, so they’re insane? They’re out of their skulls?” Virgil asked, his voice upping an octave in disbelief. “They really think we’re going to just literally put our lives in their hands, after they abducted and tormented us?”

“That’s exactly what we’re going to have to do,” Janus muttered, and held his hands up when Virgil turned to him with a glare. “Just listen for a moment. What are they doing right now?”

“Trying to trick us,” Virgil shot back immediately.

“Getting handsy!” Remus offered.

Janus pinched the bridge of his nose. “No and definitely no. They’re offering us a choice,” he clarified, “because we’ve done something to shift their opinions of us.”

“Some choice,” Virgil muttered. Janus pointed at him, making him jerk back slightly.

“Exactly. What do you think they’re going to do if we refuse to engage with them at all?”

“... Grab us anyways?”

Janus nodded, casting another look over at the waiting aliens. “If that happens, we’ve relinquished any and all control over the situation, no matter how small. Instead, we need to take advantage of this while we can. We’ll be putting our lives in their hands regardless, so it’s best to act strategically here.”

“Well, I know what I want.” Remus sidled a step away from them and towards the aliens. “Dibs on the hot one.”

“The what one?” Virgil gaped, and Remus ignored him in favor of getting a running start and then throwing himself directly onto Logan’s hand. Unsurprisingly, Logan seemed unsure how to react to a human sprawling over him like Rose from Titanic. Janus was too professional to slap a hand onto his forehead, but the urge was there. He grabbed Virgil’s shoulder when the kid started towards them.

“Forget it. He’s made his choice, and he doesn’t seem like the type to be swayed by common sense,” Janus said, rolling eyes and choosing very emphatically to not question his fellow human’s apparent qualifiers for someone being considered ‘hot’. “You need to make a decision of your own.”

Virgil shook him off, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “This is crazy. All of it. Forever. You know that, right?”

“I’m aware,” Janus replied, voice dry. Virgil shot him another look, and then seemed to actually consider the options, though grumpily. With his shoulders still up around his ears, he looked vaguely like a very angry turtle. Janus kept this observation to himself.

“Remus called the one with all the arms-- uh, Patton? He called them boring and said all they did was talk at him,” he finally offered, glancing over at the alien.

Janus nodded, keeping his own feelings on the matter off his face. “You want that one, then?”

“What?” Virgil looked at him, confused. “No, I mean you should go with them. You’ll probably have an easier time figuring out what they want from Patton.”

Janus paused, thrown off. “Hold on, that-- that leaves you with Roman. I… don’t think you’ll have the best time, considering.”

“And you will?” Virgil took Janus’s silence as the admittance it was, and nodded to himself. “I can do it. I’m tougher than you think. And anyways, if I let you go with him, he’d probably try to swipe my hoodie. Not happening.”

Janus huffed with exasperation, and Virgil gave him the closest expression he’d gotten to a smile yet before shoving his shoulder slightly and stomping up to Roman’s hand. The alien looked just as unhappy as Virgil about the decision.

---

“Well, that was an… interesting selection process,” Logan said, lifting up his hand slightly and finding that Remus seemed content to be toted around.

It was more than he could say about his own matchup. “Yeah, that’s one way of putting it,” he grumbled as ‘Virgil’ continued to stand there, tiny arms bundled around themself, tiny eyes staring up at Roman aggressively.

The little creature didn’t seem intent on even touching Roman, let alone actually being picked up and taken anywhere. Roman looked over to where D was seating themself on the edge of Patton’s hand like a king upon their throne, and then back to Virgil, who didn’t move.

Maybe they expected Roman to do all the heavy lifting? He carefully lifted his hand, curling it around Virgil’s tiny frame, and received a vicious hiss for his efforts. He recoiled, antennae flattening. He hadn’t even known these creatures could hiss!

“You alright, kiddo?” Patton appeared next to him, one hand hovering as a safety net for D. Roman pasted on a smile immediately.

“Of course! Just working out methods of transport with… Virgil. They seem a bit less charismatic than D when it comes to conveying intent, unfortunately.” The tiny creature continued to stare at him, gaze only dipping away to meet D’s briefly.

Patton studied Virgil for a moment, gaze moving between their hunched form and Roman’s fidgeting hands. “They might be a little touch shy. The transport containers are still usable, if you need them!”

“Ah, that’s right! Patton, you’re a genius.” Roman exchanged good luck hums with the Nihl and waited until he departed to grab the transport container and present it to Virgil. “Is this what you want to use, you picky creature?”  

As though to spite him, Virgil’s skin shifted to a paler shade, and they went so far as to step back slightly. Roman allowed himself a few frustrated clickswears, and then stopped as he noticed the creature stumble slightly.

“Virgil…?” he attempted the alien’s name, but there was no response beyond their rapid air intake increasing. They didn’t look so good.

Feeling oddly off-balance, he quickly stowed the transport container away, and kept his hands out of sight to give the poor guy some more space. “Easy, easy. Please for the love of all that is good, don’t die of shock on me.”

Virgil didn’t seem to improve at first, but after a moment, they started muttering to themself, and slowly but surely, began to return to baseline. Roman felt as though years had been taken off his lifespan.

“Alright, if you feel so strongly about it, there’s no reason I can’t improvise and simply work from here,” he rambled, moving a seat and a tray of tools to the side of the wide-low enclosure. “Logan wasn’t kidding when he called you easily startled, was he?”

Virgil eyed the tray with wide eyes, and when Roman picked up the thermometer, they skittered back out of easy reach, arms lifted in what must have been a defensive gesture. Like a frightened Arkbit, but less fluffy, and Roman had to actually try to coax them over rather than just holding them still for the process.

“It’s just a thermometer! It won’t prick you or anything, on my honor,” Roman swore, and when that didn’t do the trick, he used the device on himself instead. “See, I just place it against my skin for a few moments, and… there! A perfectly healthy me!”

He extended the sensor end of the thermometer in Virgil’s direction, but didn’t advance. “C’mon, just give it a shot. We’re going to need your baseline in case you get sick, and it’ll make it easier to get the others’ temps if you can tell them I’m not going to electrocute them or anything.”

Virgil dithered for a long moment, but Roman’s patience was rewarded when the alien finally stalked closer and smacked his hand against the sensor like a challenge. Luckily, it was precise enough to work accurately even with such a small specimen, and soon enough Roman has a temperature.

“Huh… you’re warmer than me and Patton, that’s for sure,” Roman mumbled. “Logan probably already has all sorts of classification theories about you guys, but I think it’s at least safe to say you’re mammalian.”

Virgil tilted their head slightly at him, and Roman shook his head. “We’ll have more to talk about once we actually manage to make a breakthrough on language. For now,” he held up a small scale, normally used for weighing precise chemical measurements, “back to the boring stuff!”

The tiny alien made a strange drawn out noise, and placed their hands over their face, but they didn’t get all tense and breathy again, and that was progress in Roman’s book.

So long as they kept making progress, things would probably turn out okay.

[wrenhyperfixates]

Pretty Venom

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: Loki pulls away from you, leaving you hurt and feeling alone. Perhaps an emotional confrontation is just what you need to get him to tell you how he really feels. Warnings: very angsty; maybe a little bit if fluff too, I guess?; bit of implied smut at the end; a curse word I think A/N: Based on one of my favorite songs ever, Pretty Venom by All Time Low. Enjoy :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant​ @lunarmoon8​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​

Disclaimer: Gif not mine 

You didn’t get it. It made absolutely no sense. For the past twenty-four hours, you’d been running through Loki’s words in your head, your mind like a broken record.

“I believe it best that we have some distance,” he’d said.

“What do you mean?” you asked, voice and body shaking with emotion.

“I mean exactly that. I do not want to see you anymore, so if you will excuse me, I must take my leave.”

You were too shocked to do anything more than shout his name. Even your feet had forgotten how to move. Now you were laying in your bed, staring at your ceiling and trying to figure out what had happened. You were going through denial, even though you’d sensed something had been amiss for a while. At the time, you’d elected to ignore it, a decision you feared you’d end up regretting for the rest of your life. Suddenly, the answer hit you and everything became clear. Loki had been acting weird ever since you’d told Wanda that you like him. He must have overheard and not felt the same way, ending with him pulling away from your friendship.

As a new round of tears began to roll down your cheeks, there was a knock at your door. For a second you dared to hope it was Loki come to make amends, but were slightly disappointed when it was Wanda instead.

“Come on,” your friend said from behind the thick wood. “You can’t hide in there forever. Tell me what happened.”

“I’d rather stay in here, thanks.”

“You sound insane, you know. Whatever it is, I’m sure we can work through it together. You at very least should eat something.”

“Thanks again, but I’d rather rot.”

She used her magic to open the door, very concerned for you after your latest declaration. As she came to your side, you began to think back on your time with Loki. Throughout your whole history, he’d never been anything less than absolutely sweet and caring toward you. He’d always told you that from the second he first saw you, he could tell you were kindred spirits. It was from that moment on, he’d confessed, that he wanted to protect you, no matter the cost, and you’d been practically attached at the hip ever since. The momentary warmth that the memory brought you was quickly replaced with a cold feeling of loneliness, realizing that he no longer felt that way. It was sad, you thought, that all your happiest memories should bring you pain.

“Whatever happened, it’s going to be alright. I promise,” Wanda comforted, coming to sit next to you on the bed and give you a hug. Her worry was plainly written on her face. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

“It’s Loki,” you finally admitted, sobbing into her shoulder. “He said he doesn’t want to see me anymore, and he didn’t say why. It’s probably because I love him, but he hates me.”

“That’s awful! It’s ok, you don’t need him, anyway. I’m right here, and you know that the rest of us will be, too.”

Even if you were upset with Loki, you didn’t want everyone in the Tower turning against him, and you told Wanda as much. After everything you’d been through with Loki, you knew he’d sunk his teeth into you. You just didn’t realize how much it hurt until he pulled away. Now it seemed you’d been deluding yourself by thinking he cared about you as you did him. You couldn’t even fathom feeling the same way about anyone else, much less anyone besides Loki feeling that way about you.

“I just don’t understand how he could say such a thing. Was he just fucking with me the whole time?” you asked Wanda, though you did not expect her to have the answer. “Was anything he said true?”

“I don’t know, but either way, he played with your heart. You shouldn’t give him another thought.”

A part of you knew that she was right and desperately wanted to pick yourself up from this pit of despair, but it seemed impossible. You spent the next week feeling just as glum as you had that day. Though, you had been able to get out of your bed and Wanda had convinced you to eat. Just as you had asked, she told no one what had happened, but most of them had figured out the story due to your sullen mood and the trickster god’s sudden disappearance from the common areas.

You were aware it was bad to continue living your life in such a sad state as you were in, but you were certain that Loki knew that he hurt you and done nothing to fix it. Your thoughts kept running around in your head, and they always ended at the same spot; how could he do this to you?

Feeling utterly trapped in the Tower, afraid you’d run into Loki around every turn, Wanda took you out for a day out in the city. Little did she know, Thor had done the exact same thing for his brother. Out of all the places either of you could have been, somehow you managed to be at exactly the same street corner. You tried to run away without letting him see you, but his eyes found you before you could fight through the throng of people. As if you were rats trapped in a maze, you ran into each other a number of other times that day. It was ironic that you’d managed to avoid each other for weeks in the Tower, but when you finally went out, you couldn’t stop spotting each other. Seeing your distress, Wanda gave up on your plans and brought you back home.

It hurt you to know that even if you were to go talk to him and try to be his friend again, it would never be quite the same. Maybe it could come close, at least. Anyway, you missed him, felt like you needed him to live. He was like a pretty venom: dangerous, but you couldn’t help but want to get close.

“Loki,” you called through his door later that day. “I just want to talk.”

No response. You’d spent hours in front of your bathroom mirror figuring out all the ways you could say what you wanted to. There was a surprising amount of ways to do it, and you hadn’t quite chosen one. Waiting any longer sounded like agony, though, so you’d marched down the hall to his room.

“Listen, I know why you pushed me away,” you continued when you were met with nothing but silence. “But I also know in my heart that you couldn’t have really wanted to do that. Not after everything you’ve ever said. And honestly, Loki, I just want my best friend back.”

“What reason, exactly, do you think I have pushed you away for?” he asked in a small, pained voice.

He cracked the door open so one of his striking eyes could meet yours. Even through the sliver of space, you could see he was a disheveled mess. A far cry from what he’d looked like out on the city streets earlier, that put together look being the one you were used to.

“Because,” you mumbled, looking at the floor, “you heard me tell Wanda how I feel about you and you don’t feel the same.”

“Is that truly what you think, mortal?” Loki shouted, wrenching the door open the rest of the way. “How foolish I was to think you cared.”

“How dare you!” you screamed back, putting out a hand to stop the door before Loki could slam it shut. You saved the satisfaction of doing that for yourself after following him into his quarters. “You’re the one who didn’t care about me. You’re the one who took back everything you’d ever said. And you’re the one who’s been messing with me from the start.”

This was definitely not how you hoped the conversation would go, but his outburst was pulling all these bottled up emotions out of you. Your heart was the one that had been under constant attack from sadness and loneliness since he’d cast you aside. It hadn’t occurred to you that he might be feeling the same way until he spoke again.

“Do you know how hard it has been to stay away, darling?” he coldly said, his venomous voice now quiet and somehow even more frightening. Even the pet name sounded menacing in his current tone. “Do you know how pained I’ve been keeping away from you? Or how my thoughts have been going in circles since that day? No, I suppose you do not know. Then again, perhaps that is my fault, after all.”

The whole time he was speaking, he approached you, and by now your back was against the wall, his hands pressed against it on either side of your head. Had it been anyone else, you would have felt threatened, but even in his anger you trusted that Loki would never hurt you. Not physically, at least.

“Then why, Loki? Why did you do that to me? To us?” you asked, your voice now soft too. You pressed a hand to the thin material of his shirt, over his heart, which was beating almost as rapidly as yours. “Why?”

“Because,” he said, swallowing thickly, his eyes full of sorrow. “I am dangerous for you. I did hear your conversation, yes, but I did not pull away because I do not reciprocate. It is because I could never be the person you need me to be.”

“But Loki, you already are.”

His arms dropped then, but before he could turn away or say anything else, you pulled him in for a kiss. It didn’t last long as he didn’t kiss you back, and you pulled away in embarrassment, fearing you’d misunderstood what he’d said.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologized, retreating towards the door. “I shouldn’t have-”

The rest of your sentence was cut off by Loki crashing his lips onto yours. His kiss was filled with just as much passion and desire as yours was. This time it was even better because you weren’t as shocked as he had been, meaning you were able to return it. His hands trailed down your side and came to rest on your waist while yours tangled themselves into his hair, pulling his mouth impossibly closer to yours. You don’t know how long you were standing there like that, mouths sloppily slanted against each other, but it would never be enough. When you did have to pull away for air, his hand gently caressed your cheek, and he kissed your forehead as he gathered his thoughts.

“May I take back what I said again?”

“Only if by that you mean you’re done punishing yourself and are ready to do this again,” you said, pulling his bottom lip between your teeth after a much shorter, but still lustful, kiss.

“I still do not believe I am worthy of you,” he confessed, “and I may never think that I am. But I cannot continue to hurt you this way. So, yes, I want to be with you, if you will still allow it.”

“I suppose I’ll accept that for now. But I swear one day, Loki Laufeyson, I will make you see just how worthy you are.”

“Whatever you say, darling.”

Then he kissed you again, carrying you to his bed where you would spend the rest of the night making good on your promise.

[masterjedilenawrites]

Blueberries and Cowboys: Chapter 2

A choose-your-own-adventure style fic. First, 2 platonic chapters for set-up/build-up. And then, the story will split into 2 paths depending on your romantic pairing preference: You and Thrawn, or You and Eli.

Chapter Masterlist

Chapter 2: The Plan

Pairing: None...yet...

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of bullying

Length: 2k

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

The rest of the week saw the three of you using every bit of free time outside your classes and studies to gather information for Thrawn to build a solid plan.

Eli tailed his pesky classmate Arden everywhere, even skipping a class one day to break into his dorm, trying to learn anything about the guy that could be useful to get him involved in the plot. Thrawn analyzed the simulation software and protocols that would be used to administer the tests, mapping out every possible way Commander Burdick could hijack it. And you were the one spying on the Burdick himself. Since the commander didn't seem too interested in your grades, you were able to shadow him without suspicion, and had been able to slip a bug into his offices to eavesdrop on any potential conversations about his plans for sabotage.

Your classmates and the staff were none the wiser. That was the advantage of being social outcasts. Half of them avoided you all like the plague, and the other half already thought you were weird people doing weird things. So it wasn't long before you'd all gotten enough intel to work with.

It was late in the evening at the end of the week. You found yourself in Thrawn and Eli's shared dorm, which looked identical to your own in the opposite wing, because the Empire couldn't bother with things like individuality or comfort. Eli sat on the edge of his top bunk, his legs swinging casually, and his coat unbuttoned to reveal a wrinkled undershirt you knew he hadn't bothered to wash all week. Thrawn paced about in the middle of the room, his long strides only allowing him about four good steps before he had to turn around. He still had his uniform on, boots and badges and all.

You leaned against the railing of the bed, watching Thrawn as he went back and forth. Sometimes he sat still when he was scheming, with his fingers steepled and his gaze seemingly reaching into some unknown dimension beyond your comprehension. That usually happened when he was running through variables that didn't concern you, at least from his perspective. You and Eli had accepted long ago there would always be parts of his plans he would never share with you. He was kind of a control freak like that.

But tonight, he seemed to be more welcoming of collaboration, hence his steady rhythm of pacing in front of you.

"Only one variable remains, as I see it," he was saying. "We understand how the commander will manipulate the system to cause a redundancy in the simulation, thus rendering the test impossible to finish successfully."

You and Eli shared a glance; the only person who truly understood how that was going to happen was Thrawn. He'd tried explaining numerous times but when it came to codes and tech, the two of you weren't able to fully keep up.

"We also know through your investigating," Thrawn motioned to you with what you thought was an impressed look, causing you to feel a little pride, "that the commander plans to only sabotage my test, believing it will be too suspicious if Eli also fails. He will also manipulate his false code to originate from the computer of his former lover Eva Carroway, who currently works in HR. So if an investigation does ensue, it will be traced to her and not him."

You and Eli chuckled under your breaths. It had been a little amusing when you'd discovered Commander Burdick was using this plan to not only undermine Thrawn, but also get revenge on his ex-girlfriend. But even more hilarious was how awkward Thrawn treated the subject. He had been quite perplexed to learn people could be so vindictive after a break-up. And any time he explained that detail of the plan, like he was doing now, he hesitated over his word choice. You couldn't tell if he only pretended to be confused about romantic relations, or if that was truly an area he found himself lost in.

If Thrawn noticed your snickering, he didn't respond to it, only continued to recap the plan. "We have also determined how we will expose the altered code naturally, so it does not cast suspicion on us... What was the word you used?"

"Backfire," said Eli.

"Yes. It would not due to have anyone suspect that we altered the test ourselves, or to have our concerns disregarded altogether. Thus, arranging for the maintenance crew to get a mild case of food poisoning so their performance checks are postponed to occur right before the tests will take care of that variable. At the least, they will fix the altered code and I will take the test as normal. At the most, they will report it and the commander faces expulsion."

"So..." said Eli through a yawn as he stretched. "What's left to work out, then?"

Now it was time for you and Thrawn to share a look.

"Were you not interested in involving your classmate, Arden Fey?" asked Thrawn in his soft, contemplative voice.

Eli shrugged. "Yeah. But Burdick's already got his scapegoat, his ex. So it'll be easier to keep him out of it. Whatever."

You could tell he was trying to be nonchalant. But just this morning, he had spent the entire walk between classes ranting about some new insults Arden had come up with, and how badly he wanted to show the guy up once and for all. You knew your friend wasn't feeling "whatever" about it.

"It's not a matter of ease or difficulty," Thrawn stated plainly. He had stopped pacing and was standing with hands behind his back, highlighting the broadness of his shoulders and the height of his stance. His presence seemed to fill up the whole room, and not for the first time, you were glad to be his friend and not his enemy.

"Yeah," you added in encouragement. "We just have to get creative. Find a way to make Arden a more appealing scapegoat than Burdick's ex. In fact...."

You trailed off as an idea occurred to you. You darted out of the room, surely leaving your two friends perplexed, but you would only be a second. You sprinted down the corridor toward the lifts, where a bulletin hung against the wall with fliers and pamphlets. One notice was a bit larger than the others, a promotion of an upcoming gala event to celebrate the Academy's anniversary. You ripped it off and went racing back to the boys' dorm room.

Eli had come down from the bunk and held a concerned look, probably prepared to follow you if you hadn't returned so quickly. Thrawn was still standing composed, but there was a curiosity in his eyes that made you smile.

You held up the poster in front of your chest. "What do you think the likelihood is of us playing successful matchmakers this week?"

Thrawn understood your idea almost immediately, looking down on you with a pleased smirk. It made you flush a little, to know the Chiss was impressed. You rarely had a chance to contribute good ideas when his mind worked so much faster than yours.

Eli caught on next, and he started to grin, the happiest you'd seen him in a while. His smile was infectious and you grinned back. Happy looked good on him.

"We know Eva's not shy with younger guys," you explained. "Before Burdick, she was fooling around with some intern in the med bay."

"And Arden's vain enough," added Eli. "If he thinks anyone's interested, he'll go for 'em."

"So we get him to ask her to the gala as his date...." you said.

"Burdick sees the two of them together...." said Eli.

"And realizes he can get back at his lover in another way, by pinning the sabotage on another student...." joined Thrawn.

The three of you stood together, proud and satisfied that yet another plan had finally worked out. It was almost worth the stressful studying and petty bullying and all the other unpleasant things you had to endure at this god-forsaken school, just to have fun moments like this with trusted friends.

"We should attend this gala as well," Thrawn said eventually, holding out a hand for the poster. He inspected it thoughtfully. "It is only a few days before the tests, so I hadn't planned to pay it any mind. But now...."

"Yeah, we should make sure Burdick's as jealous as we want 'im," nodded Eli.

You were secretly pleased. The plan was already a win-win, but now you would be able to go to the event yourself, too. You hadn't mentioned your desire to go to either of them before, figuring they weren't interested and not wanting to sound silly if you suggested it. But you did love dancing, and it was so very rare you got a chance to wear something other than your Imperial uniform.

"It's a dance," you noted, in case they couldn't tell by the details on the poster. "We'll need to go in pairs."

"I suppose it would make the most sense for you and Eli to go together," said Thrawn quietly.

You looked between the two, realizing both of them were flushed slightly. Eli's cheeks were dotted with pink, standing out amongst his dark brown features, while Thrawn had more of a purple tint to his face now, a color you'd never seen there before. You could feel yourself growing warm and uncomfortable as well. It was only a dance... only a way for you to enact a much more important plan... but it was the first time your trio had had to engage in anything other than platonic friendship. The balance of your group seemed to be shifting ever so slightly in this moment, and you had no way of knowing if it was for good or ill.

You cleared your throat, pushing away any feelings that might have been brewing in your chest, and instead calling focus back to the mission at hand.

"Actually, I think I'd better go with Thrawn. Whoever doesn't go with me would have to find their own date, and no offense Thrawn, but I think Eli has the better chance of asking someone else."

You hoped they hadn't noticed how hollow your voice sounded, how hard you were trying to keep yourself emotionless.

Eli was pinker than ever. "Uh, I highly doubt that..."

"You're not completely hated around here, you know," you said quickly. "Definitely not with the girls. You're not bad looking, you can be charming if you try, and you're... you know, human." You glanced at Thrawn and added again quietly, "No offense."

Thrawn shook his head. His color and demeanor had already slipped back into his usual neutral self. "No, I agree. Those are the dynamics of our peers and we must work with it. I will take you to the gala, Eli will find his own date, and all three of us will push Arden and Eva together as well. It's a good plan."

You all nodded in agreement. But there was a knot in your stomach, a nervousness you didn't quite understand. You cared very much for both Thrawn and Eli. They were your best friends, your only friends. As a group, you were bonded by your ostracism, protecting and supporting each other on your journey out of this hell-hole.

And separately, you had something special with each, too. You and Eli came from similar backgrounds, and had the same need to disconnect from your surroundings and just have a bit of fun every once in a while. The two of you had spent many late nights together, either hopping between bars, exploring the city, making each other laugh uncontrollably, or quietly sharing the honest thoughts you both buried far too deeply inside. Some nights you'd done all of the above, and returned to your dorm feeling both exhausted and renewed.

But Eli didn't always appreciate the finer things in life, and that's where you connected with Thrawn. He wasn't necessarily an optimist, but he had this way of noticing the beauty that existed everywhere around you, even in the most simple or mundane of moments. Everything had the potential to be interesting. His calm but strong presence had kept you grounded and sane throughout your studies here so far. Sometimes you would talk, other times you would simply be in the same space. And either way, you felt better about life.

You didn't exactly want your relationship with them to change. But you couldn't help but feel this gala would do just that....

Next Chapter: The Preparation >

Blueberry Path | Thrawn x reader

Cowboy Path | Eli x reader

[silkling]

I'd like a fanfic based off of that headcanon. I actually saw a fic on DeviantArt that inspired me to ask you about Chase and his fear of thunder storms and I think Blades would understand since he's scared of heights.

Alrighty then! I’d be happy to write it! This one was fun! I like writing Chase and Blades, they’re both cute.

———————————————————————————————————

The sky flashed outside the firehouse, and then there was a loud boom that Chase swore made the air itself shake. He flinched, his armor plating pinning tight against his protoform so fast and so harshly it made an audible sound. Here in the main garage of the firehouse, the sounds thunder and flashes of lighting seemed so much closer than they probably were. He knew he was being foolish. It was just a storm, and as long as he stayed inside it couldn’t hurt him.

The windows lit up with another strike of lighting, and the thunder boomed once more. Before Chase even realized what was happening, base processor functions took over and he was folding into his alt mode, peeling backwards and away from the open garage door, and skidding to a stop on the large elevator pad that would take him to the bunker. It started lowering, and as soon as there was enough space for him to not scrape his roof he was gunning his engine, flying off the pad and landing on the floor of the bunker to skid to a harsh stop. He transformed back to his root mode, quickly making the pad lift back up, and sealing the bunker from the upper floors of the firehouse.

There was silence for a beat, and then a much more distant crash of thunder sounded. Chase flinched, his plating clamping impossibly tighter. The sounds were much more faint down here, dampened by thick, heavy stone and earth. Even so, it was just loud enough to be heard. But…Chase supposed that this was better than being in the garage. That would be worse.

It would be even worse if he was with the others. They’d gone on a camping trip to the forests of the mainland, where they were apparently going to be so far from civilization that the Rescue Bots wouldn’t have to worry about being seen. The plan had been to camp out in a large cave on on top a cliff to watch the storm, since apparently this type of storm was some for of rare meteorological event. Graham had assured him it was mostly harmless and they’d be safe as long as they stayed out of the thick of it, and even if things went wrong there was a cabin owned by Doctor Greene nearby that everyone would fit into and be safe at.

Chase had very politely opted out of that trip. He had no desire fo be out in the middle of a storm, in the middle of nowhere. Just being at Griffin Rock in the middle of it was bad enough. He’d told Chief Burns he wished fo stay behind and review human law and order systems. A lie, of course. He was too tense to focus on anything of that sort. The others had all gone, and now he was alone here. He was starting to think it would have been better to ride this out with friends.

The police bot forced himself to move, turning and walking stiffly to the couch. He fell back onto it, turning on the TV and rising the volume as high as it would go in an effort to drown out the noise of the storm. When he could hear no thunder over the sound of the human entertainment system, he finally allowed himself to relax.

“Chase? You didn’t go on the trip?”

The unexpected voice made Chase shoot to his pedes, his previously relaxed frame tensing and his armor clamping tight once more. He turned to the speaker, and it took his frazzled processor a moment to recognize the slim frame of his teammate. His vocalizer clicked several times, spitting a blaat of static before he was able to make it work.

“Blades?”

“Yes?” Blades seemed confused. “Chase, are you alright? Are you hurt? Is that why you didn’t go with the others? I can treat you if you need medical attention.” The copter bot walked closer, his hands uncurling from where they’d been tucked against his canopy to flutter nervously in front of him.

Chase took another moment to force his processor to work, and he shook his helm slowly. “I am–I am unharmed.” he stated. “I remained behind to study human law practices.”

Blades stopped in front of him, helm tilting. His audial fins only had limited movement capability, but they still twitched very slightly with his visible confusion. “You were watching one of Dani’s weird human romance movies.” he pointed out.

He felt embarrassment rush through him, and he ducked his helm. He quickly picked up the remote, turning down the volume so they could speak without having to raise their voices. “Yes. I, ah–“ he struggled to find an excuse. He had to change the topic. “Why are you here?” he blurted out. “Did you not go with the others?”

The copter shook his helm, his hands tucking up again his canopy again, as he always seemed to do when he wasn’t using them or gesturing while he talked. “Dani wanted to fly in the storm. She said it was safe as long as we stayed out of the pre-determined lightning zones and that it would just be like a theme park ride but I didn’t really want to.” he said.

“Oh.” Chase blinked, and was about to open his mouth when there was a very, very loud crash of thunder, and then bunker itself shook around them.

His optics blew wide, the blue burning so bright they practically glowed white. A high, distressed shriek left his vocalizer before he was even aware of it and he was shoving himself back into the couch, making himself as small as possible and pulling his field in tight, armor clamped so closely to his frame none of the seams were visible or individual plates were even distinguishable. Blades stared at him in alarm, then in two quick strides he was there and crouching by the couch. His field expanded to wrap around the police bot, emitting soft, soothing feelings.

“Chase, it’s alright. You’re safe down here.” Blades assured. He cast a worried glance up, then tilted his helm. “That last one felt like something nearby might have been struck. I have to go check, but I’ll be right back, okay?” he said. He waited for a response, but after a minute where it seemed it wasn’t getting one he was forced to give up and go check.

Chase was alone, then. Air squealed past his vents in harsh wheezes, and he couldn’t make himself calm down. All he could focus on was the memory of getting struck, the feeling of the bolt hitting his chest, burning so hot it scorched and melted the metal of his chestplate into a twisted mess. He hadn’t allowed himself to show how it affected him then, but he’d been terrified. Lightning couldn’t kill a Cybertronian. Not a single strike, at any rate. But for those with thinner armor or smaller frames, a single strike could do permanent, crippling damage. He’d been extremely lucky, he knew.

After the wound on his chest had been healed, it had only taken three days or so for his systems to recover from the powerful electric attack and for the pain to stop. But the fear had remained. He’d realized that if he was ever struck again, he might not be so lucky, and he could be permanently, irreparably damaged. With the risks lightning posed to Cybertronians, especially to Cybertronians of his build…he would almost prefer if the only thing he had to fear from getting struck was death. At least then, he wouldn’t have the risk of his systems being permanently crippled.

He didn’t realize that his vocalizer had started clicking with his distress until he felt a hand on his shoulder and a EM field wrap tightly around him. For a moment, his panic grew, but then he recognized the field pressing around him and his engine hiccuped. His vision was blurred and staticky, and it took a moment for it to clear enough for him to see Blades. His friend was staring at him in open concern, his rotors all but vibrating at his back with his worry.

“Chase? You with me?”

“I–What–I’m sorry–“ he gasped, only for the copter to cut him off.

“No, none of that! It’s fine.” Blades scolded gently. “Come on, you need to vent. Your frame is overheating and your fans aren’t enough. Vent, deep and slow. Follow me.” he said, venting in the pattern he needed the police bot to follow.

Chase shuddered, his armor audibly rattling with it, and he followed Blades’s lead. After a moment, his frame stopped feeling so hot, and he was able to calm. There was no thunder, not that he could hear. All he could hear were the hums of his and his teammates systems and the noise of the TV. He reset his vocalizer, remembering why Blades had left.

“Was anything damaged?”

Blades shook his helm. “No. The lightning just struck pavement. There’s a scorch mark, but no damage.”

Chase nodded. “Good, good.” he whispered, sounding distant. “Blades, I–that is, I should–I mean–“ he cut himself off, forcing himself to try again. “I…I wish to apologize.”

Blades blinked, looking startled. He shifted from where he was crouched in front of Chase, sitting next to his friend on the couch instead. “Apologize? What for?”

“I am acting foolish. The lightning cannot hurt me. It cannot even reach me. Yet…” he trailed off, ashamed of his own fear.

Blades blinked. “You’re not foolish, Chase.” he said, tone gentling.

Chase looked at his teammate, his optics just a little too bright. “My fear is irrational, Blades! It helps no one and only causes inconvenience!”

Blades didn’t flinch under the force of his yelling. “So?” His audial fins flicked. “Fear is often irrational.”

“Perhaps.” Chase seemed bitter. “But my fear makes me a liability. What if a storm occurs while we are on a mission? It could keep me from doing what is needed of me.” he stared at his lap. “The others will think poorly of me, I am sure of it.”

“Chase.” Blades’s voice was firm. “You’re not the only one with an irrational fear.” At his back, his rotors fluttered pointedly. “The team doesn’t think any less of me for my fear, do they?”

Chase turned a startled look to his friend. “Of course not! That would be foolish! Your fear does not stop you from performing your duties! We have no reason to think less of you, and you are no less of a bot just because you are scared of heights!”

Blades smiled. “So, why wouldn’t that be true for you?”

Chase froze, blinking.

“I know how guilty fear can make you feel, Chase. Believe me, I understand. And one day, you may have to confront it head on for a mission, but if that day comes I know you won’t let us down. It’s alright to have fears, and it’s alright to avoid the things that scare you if you have that option. You just can’t let your fears define you or stop you from living your life.” he said softly.

Neither bot said anything for a long moment. The only sounds in the bunker were those of two Cybertronian systems running and and mundane human commercial from the TV. Then Chase broke it.

“You are…you are correct. Thank you, Blades.”

Blades beamed, nodding. His rotors twitched happily at his back, and he settled down more comfortably. “Good! Now, how about we find something to watch and drown out the storm?”

Chase let out a huff of laughter. “I would like that.”

The copter nodded, then he shifted again, moving until he was leaning against Chase’s side. He knew his teammate wasn’t as tactile as him, so he didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. “Is this okay? Physical comfort helps me when I get scared. Back on Cybertron, if I got really nervous, my brothers would usually hug me.” he said distractedly, flipping through the channels on the TV to find something to watch.

Chase blinked. “You have brothers?” he turned that statement over in his processor. “You have spark bonded siblings? Blades, what happened…?”

Blades froze, then sagged. “Don’t tell the others.” he whispered. At Chase’s nod, he continued. “I have brothers.” he confirmed. “Four of them. I’m gestalt. I don’t know where they are. The bond was active and I could hear them before we went into stasis, but after we got out…” he trailed off, resetting his vocalizer before he was able to continue. “The bond is muted now. I don’t know if it’s because of distance and time apart from them, or because they’re–“ his voice cut off. He forced himself to finish that sentence. “Because they’re dead.”

Chase stared at his smaller teammate for a long moment, then he wrapped his arms around him and tugged him close. “Perhaps, tonight, we can comfort each other.” he said.

Blades was startled, and then he laughed weakly and nodded. He shifted, rearranging himself until he was folded and tucked neatly against Chase’s frame, and then he relaxed. “I’d like that.” he grinned.

Chase found himself smiling as well, and his contentment grew when Blades finally picked one of the humans’ true crime shows to watch and dialed the volume all the way up. The remote was set down, and then both Rescue Bots were curling even further into each other, enjoying the physical comfort they could offer one another.

Outside, the storm raged on, but it went unnoticed to the two Cybertronians in the bunker below. Neither bot had stopped being afraid of their fears, but they both knew that didn’t matter. They had each other, and in that moment, that was all that really counted.

———————————————————————————————————

And there it was! I like to headcanon Chase and Blades as Amica, so a tiny bit of that may have slipped into this. I hope everyone liked it! And for more information on the original ask that spawned this and some of the background info, click here.

I love writing for Rescue Bots. It’s the perfect medium for found family and fluffy friendship. I need more of that in my life. I’ll be posting another request fic soon, btw! And if anyone wants to shoot me an ask about one of my AUs or any headcanons I may have, I answer those pretty much as soon as I get them.

Until next time, folks!

[twstlotus]

Oh, congrats with the new twst write blog!👏 Can i, please, have a hc's for Duece, Azul, Kalim, Floyd and Ruggie with the MC, who make this "cannibalism" joke, while boys eating the cinnamon rolls? Their reaction? Please, make it as fluff as possible. With huge love from Ukraine 💗

Posting this as a way to keep my blog active. Enjoy!

Note: Some of the things here are from a while ago, so the formatting might be a tad different. I hope you don’t mind.

Deuce Spade

He takes it literally. This poor stupid boy thinks that there’s actual human flesh inside of his cinnamon roll and comes close to throwing it to the nearest trash can— all while muttering on how “he killed someone” and how “he’s guilty”.

Luckily, you were able to quickly reach for his hand and stop him from doing anything that would garner too much attention to both of you. 

You explain your joke to him and when he realizes what you meant, his face turns completely red. He’s utterly embarrassed upon realizing what he almost did to the pure, sweet cinnamon you prepared for him, worried that he screwed up the picnic between you two. To think that he almost threw it all away for nothing…

You reassure him by planting a kiss on his cheek. Telling him that it’s fine, and say that you found his shock rather amusing. To which he acts a tad defensive about it. “E-Eh?! D..don’t say things like that, (Y/N)..!” The red in his cheeks rises once more. Still, you laugh it off, and he eventually backs down. 

Surprisingly, the picnic went alright. You and Deuce continued to eat peacefully despite the small scene that occurred. But overall; the picnic was great! (He seemed to avoid eating the some of the cinnamon rolls, though.) Deuce thanks you for the meals and suggests that you two have more picnics soon— but no more cannibalism jokes!

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul had the Mostro Lounge open after hours just so the two of you could unwind and have a romantic date there. He even had the Leech twins be your waiters for tonight and also be your “music makers” as they play the most obscure love songs to “set the mood”.

On your table was a plate of cinnamon rolls Floyd served to your table with an obvious wink to accompany it. Your fingers began tracing the swirl patterns of the roll while Azul was eating the cinnamon roll prepared for him.

A cheeky grin tugs on your face. You joke to him about how he just committed cannibalism when he ate the cinnamon roll, giggling slightly at your own joke.

Azul chuckles at your joke in return. “Hmm? I never took you for the teasing type, (Y/N). Regardless, it’s a welcomed surprise. Fufufu.” He says with a grin Jade and Floyd are acting like cheerleaders for Azul in the background.

He doesn’t seem too fazed nor does he react strongly on the outside. But the light pink hue creeping on his cheeks say otherwise. It’s a bit of a 50-50— noticing that he’s trying to obscure the coloring heat on his cheeks by “pushing his glasses to his eyes”. But if you do notice it, and maybe even point it out to him, he’ll simply dismiss it while the hue on his cheeks only spreads further.

Kalim Al-Asim

Feasts with Kalim weren’t rare. He’d often invite you to Scarabia to have breakfast with him, among other things. You’re his favorite person after all! (Besides Jamil, of course). Scarabia’s feasts were always grand in its own way; laughter, joy, happiness, it was all present in Kalim’s feasts.

So you weren’t really surprised when Kalim suggested the idea of dinner with you. He promised fine dining (as always) and a starry night sky to watch while you ate; but you didn’t expect it to just be you two alone in the Scarabia Lounge. The ambiance was far different than normal occasions; it was quiet, serene, peaceful— but of course, there were still yours and Kalim’s laughter that’d break the silence.

Kalim happily munched on his cinnamon roll that Jamil cooked up for your dinner. It was supposed to be eaten as dessert after the main course, but hey, good food is good food and it should be free to eat at any time! Oh no...he’s starting to sound like Grim.

A quiet giggle slipped from your lips before you joked about Kalim and his cinnamon roll, which in turn made him laugh, accompanied by a light hue on his cheeks. He comments on how nice (yet weird) it was of you to say that, but you’re the sweet one here, he grins. Kalim’s not one to be too flustered over affectionate words or actions. He is an affectionate person, after all; but he still thinks its kind of you to say such a thing!

Afterward, it sort of becomes a competition on who can fluster the other one just enough with affection— whether it be in words or actions. Eventually, Jamil told you two to keep it down and how “disgustingly cheesy it was”, remarking that he could hear you both laughing all the way from the kitchen. In which you merely find amusement in hearing his complaints.

Floyd Leech

Unlike the others, Floyd isn’t as formal about the entire thing. He just sort of popped in while you were having breakfast. His excuse was that he “wanted to see his favorite little Shrimpy before he has to go to the Mostro Lounge~!” and who were you to deny him?

Floyd was practically squeezing you on his lap the entire time you were eating, making it nearly impossible to even get a bite as he pulled you back from the food on the table. Eventually, he just starts spoonfeeding you. What? It’s nice for him to see Shrimpy take whatever he gives~

Before he’s able to spoonfeed you again; you slip in a cinnamon roll to his lips, Floyd looking at it rather curiously while you giggled. You muttered your “cannibalism” joke, and a puzzled expression crosses Floyd’s face. “Eh~? I don’t get what you mean, but that was pretty funny,” he chuckles.

You have to explain your joke to him, and when he finally gets it, a wide smile dances on his lips. He pulls you in for one of his squeezes, cheering on how he’s soooo happy to hear Shrimpy say that to him. Excuse his tight squeezing, he just can’t help it— Shrimpy’s just so cute!

Floyd gives you a handful of cinnamon rolls to munch on. And whenever you do, he repeats back the joke you told him, his smile never fading. This continues on for a while, and it takes a few phone calls from Azul to get his ass to the Mostro Lounge. Floyd, of course, wanted to stay with you, but you promise to visit him between classes and after they ended. Once he’s reconciled, he makes you promise that you eat together more often, and off he goes.

Ruggie Bucchi

A day off for Ruggie from work means a day spent with you! You happily greet him when he first wakes up, giving him a kiss on the cheek which sends the colors of his cheeks fully pink. He’s happy to see you, but he wonders what you’re doing in Savanaclaw?

You offer to have brunch with him, showing him a lunchbox filled to the brim with meals that’d suffice for the both of you. You say you wanted him to relax for the day, now that Leona’s not going to ask him of any favors (or so you hoped), and you wanted to contribute to his day off by serving him food! He delightfully accepts.

It was mostly the doughnuts you fried that caught his attention (despite you telling him that it was for dessert). But he also made sure to try out other things, like cinnamon rolls! He comments on how perfectly fried they were, the right amount of sweet, soft, everything; he wasn’t used to eating something so sugary, but it was a welcomed experience (you have to eat what you can, right?)

A satisfied smile tugs on your lips. Suddenly, a joke slithered its way into your mind. And so the little “cannibalism” joke you came up with was uttered out, and Ruggie merely laughed. His cheeks coloring itself a rosy hue. “Shishishi, you’re cute. You know that, (Y/N)?” He says through his snickers. Ruggie reacts similarly to Kalim; but since he isn’t as affectionate as him or is as used to receiving it, he does get a tad visibly flustered.

He briefly ruffles your hair as a reward for your words. Afterward, he tells you that he’s going to cook next time you two hold such an occasion— you insist that you could cook for him, but he always turns it down. In the end, you give in and promise to him that you’re sure to be there when he cooks. He’s a good chef, so you’re in the right hands!

[kybervisions]

a taste of life [kylo]

summary: ben solo is brought back from the dead by a force-sensitive pirate and is given the opportunity to start a new life as part of her crew. 

author’s note: hdjfkj i love the idea of a pirate!reader so here is my contribution,, so this takes place a few weeks after the battle of exegol in which the first order was defeated ,, if you’ve played jedi fallen order than reader’s ability is exactly like cal’s ,, lmk what you think :)) ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Isao muttered as he navigated the ship through the wreckage. The ruins of Star Destroyer fleets decorated Exegol, evidence of the New Republic’s victory. And There was so much to loot! You chuckled. The Scorpion landed near a weird-looking throne. It was so dark that Isao landing the Scorpion was a miracle. 

“Well I see a very fun trip to Canto Bight in our future,” You said with a smile and ran out of the cockpit. It had been a while since you last visited the city and partook in the activities of wealthy individuals. You so desperately wanted to gamble and drink credits away, so you quickly strapped your belt on and grabbed a blaster before exiting the ship. Nori ran after you. 

“Canto Bight? I thought we were going to Jedha and see the remains of the Jedi temple there,” Nori expressed disappointment with your desire to return to Canto Bight. She had become obsessed with learning more about the Jedi after learning about your Force sensitivity. 

“Jedi Temples don’t have open bars,” You reminded your Twi’lek friend, “or casinos,” Nori sighed in frustration. “I’m just trying to be plastered and gamble,” You smiled. “No need to get ourselves involved in Jedi business,” 

You’ve known about your connection with the Force your entire life. You were a member of the Blazing Chain — an organization of nomadic raiders made up of Force Adepts that wandered Unknown Space. With no loyalty to the Sith or Jedi, the Blazing Chain simply utilized their Force abilities to make raids easier. Three wars occurred, and each time, for better or for worse, the Blazing Chain remained neutral. You had no intention in breaking that tradition. 

As you walked, you found a cube. The strong fog made it nearly impossible to see, but your foot gently kicked it. A faint blue glow radiated from the cube and you felt a compulsion to pick it up. You knelt down, and as your fingers touched the cube, a scene played back in your head. And then, a blinding white light. 

“Ahh, dank farrik!” You shouted and crawled away from the cube. Nori ran to your side. 

“What happened? Are you okay? Did it happen again?” Nori asked frantically. By ‘it’ she was referring to one of your ‘echo episodes’ in which an object gives you a memory by touching it. You were one of two adepts cursed with that ability from the Blazing Chain. It was referred to as a Force Echo. 

“I’m fine,” You groaned, feeling a sharp pain in your head. “That kriffin’ holocron was part of the battle here,” You informed Nori, crawling back to the cube. It wanted to be opened and only you could do it. 

“Whoa,” Nori marveled at the unique gold design on the cube. You held the cube in your palm of your hand and closed your eyes. Within seconds, the holocron levitated and opened. “That is so cool,” Nori muttered. 

A white ball of energy emerged from the holocron. You opened your eyes and a bright white light shined. You appeared possessed, and it terrified Nori. She screamed. You began muttering words in a language she couldn’t understand. 

The energy ball dispersed. The holocron closed and fell back onto your palm. 

“What the kriff was that?!” Nori exclaimed. You stood up, completely unfazed by the recent possession.  

"No clue,” You told your friend. 

A tall man dressed in black emerged from the fog. The light from the Scorpion beamed on the man. He was very pale and bloody. His black sweater bad a large hole and was absolutely filthy-looking. 

You would not be caught dead wearing that. 

“We don’t want any trouble, um, sir,” You attempted to de-escalate the interaction. The holocron must be worth thousands and there was enough on the Star Destroyers to share with the beaten-down man. 

“Do you know who I am?” The odd man asked. 

“Oh...um, no?” You replied. You looked to Nori. She shook her head.

“Where did you get that?” The man looked at the holocron in your palm. 

Immediately you tossed the cube to Nori, who put it inside her bag. “Get what?” You played dumb. “Do you need any help? A new outfit perhaps?” You asked him, looking at the large tear on the chest area of the sweater. 

His right hand reached for the hole in the sweater. His fingers touched his bear chest. He stared blankly at you, “I’m lost,” He felt a strange comfort when looking at you.

It was you that gave him life. 

“Well you are in luck!” You said with glee. “We are pirates and there isn’t anywhere we can’t go,” You informed the stranger. As a child you learned all the best traveling routes to bypass First Order and New Republic checkpoints. With the power struggle and chaos that followed the fall of the First Order there was no better time to be a pirate.

“Coruscant,” He replied rather quickly. With Alderaan destroyed, his mother would be buried at the capital. Coruscant had been in open rebellion against the First Order, and he was certain the New Republic would restore peace. 

Your smile dropped, “Coruscant? Why would you want to go there? Are you part of a gang?” You questioned and reached for your blaster. “Like I said, we don’t want any trouble,” You said cautiously. 

“What do you have in Coruscant?” Nori asked, aiming her blaster at his head. 

Truthfully, nothing. Kylo had nothing. 

“Where are you going?” He asked you, and your smile returned. 

“The Smuggler’s Moon,” You replied. 

Kylo remembered hearing Han mention Nar Shaddaa throughout his childhood. It was an entire world filled with pirates and outlaws. It was also the homeworld of the Hutts. Leia would threaten Ben with a visit to Nar Shaddaa when he would not behave. It terrified him as a child. 

“Got some people that might be interested in that glowing cube,” You mentioned. 

“You can’t sell that!” Kylo exclaimed. Both women took a step away from him, but they weren’t scared of him. They appeared rather annoyed with his outburst and demand. 

“First of all, I’m the captain, so watch your tone,” You pointed at him, unamused. “Second of all, I can sell whatever I want,” 

“That cube is an ancient Jedi artifact,” Kylo informed you. 

“Oh, well in that case,” You smiled. Kylo smiled too then, believing he had convinced you to keep the very thing you used to bring him from the dead. “I know just the Hutt to sell this to,” 

His smile dropped instantly. 

“Are you a Jedi?” Nori questioned. 

Was he a Jedi? Ben had been a padawan when Snoke tainted his mind. He spent more years of his life as a pawn for the Sith than he did as his uncle’s student. He blankly stared at Nori before his attention returned to you. 

“Doesn’t matter,” You answered the question for him. He was beyond grateful for your reply. “The cube is getting sold, and you, my friend, have three options,” Ben knitted his brows and slightly tilted his head in confusion. “You can remain lost on this hellish planet, I sell you, or you can join my crew,” 

“Why?” Kylo asked. Kindness was not virtue he experienced often. There had always been strings attached to the kindness of others. Snoke disguised his actions as a way of helping Ben. Oh, how stupid the mind of a child is. 

You had already done more than you knew — you brought him back to the land of the living, unknowingly it would seem. Offering him a spot on your crew was you giving him a chance to truly live. Joining your crew would also give him a chance to figure out how you gave him life.

“Tall, broad-shoulders beast like you, figure I could sell ya for some pretty New Republic credits,” You smiled, taunting Kylo.

“Isao said to hurry up or he’s going to leave without you,” A B1-series battle droid exited from your ship. The droid was in pristine shape, despite its mismatched torso and right arm. "I don’t know if he was being serious,” The droid added. 

Nori walked toward, “I’ll hold him off,” Both she and the droid boarded the ship. “And I’ll adjust your sarcasm setting,” Nori smiled at the droid. 

“So, what d’ya say?” You asked him. “Roger could use help cooking and cleaning,” You laughed as the words left your lips. You were filled with genuine happiness. Kylo could feel it, and it was intoxicating. 

He gave you a simple nod, “I will join your crew,” 

“Great, do you like Canto Bight?” You asked and began walking toward the ship. Kylo was hesitant to follow you. You felt his hesitancy and stopped walking to face him. 

Kylo studied you for a brief moment. Nothing about you screamed danger, but he was almost certain your hands were drenched in blood. “I’ve never been to Canto Bight,” He replied and took steps towards you. There was so much Ben had yet to see. So much of the galaxy still left to explore, and somehow, you blessed him with the breath of life. 

“Oh, you are in for a treat, big guy,” You stated, more than happy to show off your favorite vacation destination. “But first we are gonna need to buy you some clothes,” You said and boarded the ship. Kylo followed after you, and the scent of burnt cookies touched his nose. 

“Sorry!” Roger apologized, attempting to get rid of the smoke by frantically waving his arms.

[anotherhellchild]

📂?

Ight ight,, we know this one aint canon cause we’ve seen him cry, but imma just ignore that for a hot sec and say that Katsuki’s tears actually have a tiny bit of nitroglycerin in them which causes them to explode when they drop.

Well y’know, actually, I’m no biologist and idk how tears work, but I'm pretty sure the chemical composition of tears varies depending on whether the tear stems from emotional pain or regular pain. We haven’t seen Katsuki cry because of physical pain (at least I haven’t/ I don’t remember that occurring) so it’s not impossible for Katsuki’s tears to contain tiny amounts of nitroglycerin when it’s a reflex tear/ one caused from pain or whatever. 

In other words: Katsuki’s reflex tears sometimes spark/ explode after they’ve fallen.  (idk guys, i'm no genius, pls just roll with it lol)

Anyway, (bc i love the class finding out random things about Bakugou), obviously class 1a doesn’t know about this. Nobody, apart from Deku, has ever seen Katsuki cry. It’s surprising, to say the least, cause this guy has so much trauma, ptsd and general emotional constipation that every member had expected to see the boy break down at least once at this point. They wouldn’t have blamed him, of course. Maybe they almost think it’d even do him some good, it’d be nice if Katsuki could learn to bring this particular wall of his down in front of people he can trust. But, that hasn’t happened. 

Katsuki never cries. Not even when he gets hurt. Like, the seriously injured type of hurt. It doesn’t happen often (because class 1a’s local angry hedgehog is always careful) still, Katsuki has had his fair share of injuries. Even Aizawa could vouch for the fact that the boy’s had it really bad a couple times, so bad that he probably should have passed out due to the pain.

But no, Katsuki likes to deal with that type of pain by silently (sometimes not so silently) cursing to himself. He’ll bite his lip and look up to the sky, but not a single drop will even form.

The whole class is in the common room, just eating or hanging out, doing whatever it is that they do. Katsuki’s with his idiots, playing some video games, when he decides he wants food. 

He gets up, walks two steps, attempts to step over Kiri (who’s sprawled out on the floor) but just as he does that, the redhead hardens his skin and Katsuki stubs his toe. Hard, really hard.

“FUCKK!!” is screamed out to the entire common room, followed by a loud string of extra curses. 

“HOLY SHIT I’M SO SORRY BRO!” is exclaimed by Kirishima to Katsuki, who’s now hopping around in front of the TV, with his foot in his hand.

All eyes in the room have turned to them, every member is already gravitating towards the chaos. The rest of the squad is just laughing and yelling at the same time, Iida’s aggressively chopping his arms and trying to calm everyone down who are wondering what the fuck is going on. Even Dark Shadow’s joined the party.

Meanwhile, Katsuki’s landed on the floor, not registering any of the chaos because his toe hurts like a fucking bitch. He’d argue that someone might as well have thrown the damn thing in the fucking blender, that’s the level of agony he’s reached.

There’s nothing he can do to stop the water building up in both his eyes. Before he knows it, tears fall on his cheek and flash with tiny pops of explosions. He’s still violently cursing through the entire thing. And his toe throbs, that should be noted.

The sound around him fades away and everybody’s frozen in their spots.

When Katsuki blinks, a drop hits the floor which causes a little spark to erupt where it landed.

“YOU’RE CRYING!!! OH MY GOD GUYS BAKUGOU’S CRYING!” Mina shouts, out of fucking nowhere, she’s rapidly hitting whatever poor soul’s standing to he right. 

Everybody goes berserkers, again. Idiots. 

“YOUR FREAKING TEARS EXPLODE DUDE!! WHAT THE HELL?!!” Sero screams, but Katsuki couldn’t care less.

It feels like he broke his fucking toe, or at least opened it or something. Fuck. More tears pop on his cheek as he looks up to see everyone getting a bit closer than what he prefers. Dumb looks on their faces, even fucking Todoroki’s looking at him with fucking wide eyes and slightly red cheeks. Fucking weird.

“FUCK OFF FUCKWADS!!” he blinks again. His cheeks spark. “FUCK!”

“Awww I can’t believe you’re crying Bakugou! You look so freaking adorable!!” Kaminari coos, he fucking coos. That dunceface is dead.

“I can’t believe he’s crying because he stubbed his toe! I’ve seen this boy get stabbed in the side by that villain that attacked a month ago and shrug it off, now he’s bawling his eyes out cause he got a booboo?! Are you freaking serious Bakugou!!” Uraraka shrieks.

“OI WATCH YOUR FREAKING MOUTH!” Katsuki retaliates, he stands up, not entirely smoothly. The pain’s subsided enough to walk away now, so he does. He pushes through the crowd of dumbasses whilst aggressively rubbing his sleeve at his eyes, and no! He does not pout!

Fuck. The class is never gonna let this go, are they?

[exhaustedfander]

Dance like no one’s watching (even if they are)

a03 link

word count: 2,360

It isn’t uncommon for Virgil to wake before Remus does. Granted, he usually goes to bed far later than he should, and who is he to say no to sleeping in late on the weekends? But Remus sleeps like a rock. It’d take a marching band to raise him from his slumber – or Virgil hitting him with a pillow over and over again, begging him to wake up because, “God damn it, Rem, we’ve got somewhere to be!”

Virgil’s a light sleeper; always has been. He figures it has a lot to do with the fact that he’s basically anxiety and self-doubt stacked together in a trench coat pretending to be a person, but yeah, it doesn’t take much to wake him. The creaking of a door, the sound of birds chirping outside, Remus snoring. He always claims he doesn’t, and honestly, Virgil is considering recording it to prove that, yes, he absolutely does snore, and it’s insufferable. Well. Maybe not insufferable, just… annoying, sometimes.

Remus isn’t snoring now, though. He’s fast asleep, his hair frazzled, and drool stuck to his pillow which is way more adorable than it ought to be. Virgil doesn’t know what woke him, but it wasn’t his boyfriend this time. He glances at the clock and groans sleepily. It’s still early in the morning, and a Saturday, too. He’d like to shut his eyes, throw his arms around Remus and get a few more hours of sleep, but he knows himself well enough to understand it’s just not gonna happen.

Still, he lies there for a few minutes, relishing in the quiet and comfort of the thick duvet and Remus beside him, his own personal space heater. Remus runs hot, and Virgil’s always a little cold, so they balance each other out. It’s weird. They shouldn’t, or at least, it doesn’t seem like they should.

Virgil thinks back to when they first knew each other. Having been friends with Roman for quite a while, he’d thought it odd that Roman had never formally introduced his brother. Upon actually meeting Remus, however, Virgil’s confusion quickly dispersed.

Remus is loud, bold, energetic to an erratic point, and he says absolutely everything that comes to mind the moment the thought occurs to him. “Hey, emo, what do you think it’d look like if I just exploded right now! Just my blood and guts smeared all over the walls! Wouldn’t that be awesome?!”

Needless to say, Virgil’s not initially a fan. Remus is a lot to handle, and honestly, Virgil’s a little scared of him at first. It isn’t as though he thinks that Remus is going to hurt him, he’s just… weird. And crude, and a lot to handle. He’s impulsive and brash, and a kind of person that Virgil’s never known. He decides that he doesn’t like him and that he’ll avoid him as much as he’s able.

Except, that isn’t really possible. Despite the fact that Remus and Roman’s relationship is strained, to say the least, they still spend some amount of time together, and Remus is occasionally invited (or invites himself) to events. The point is, Virgil sees him around, more and more. And somewhere along the way he somehow becomes tolerable.

Virgil doesn’t know what changes, but one day, at a party Remus plops himself down next to him, crowding his personal space, and he lets him stay. That’s when he first realizes how warm he is, how strangely comfortable Remus’s presence can be. It might be the alcohol, Virgil thinks to himself that night, that’s why Remus leaning on him, giggling and making inappropriate jokes makes him feel so stupidly nice.

Virgil blames the liquor when he kisses Remus, too. He still can’t fully remember what spurred it; he just knows Remus looked so pretty, his grey-streaked hair falling in his eyes, coming out of its bun, and Virgil leaned forward and kissed him. It’s harder to blame anything other than a more complicated desire when he finds himself in Remus’s bed, their limbs a tangled mess.

It’s startling, that morning, waking up and seeing Remus asleep beside him for the first time and thinking about how beautiful he looks. Remus and Roman are identical twins, and he’s certainly never thought about his friend that way. That isn’t to say he hasn’t noticed that Roman is handsome, because, c’mon, he has eyes. But this is different. The way he looks at Remus is different and – oh shit – trashy men with ratty mustaches and a terrible fashion sense are his type, aren’t they?

He doesn’t know when he went from being afraid of him to tolerating his presence, to finding him heart-wrenchingly beautiful, but the shift has happened regardless. When did Remus’s jokes go from unnerving to kind of fucking funny? He can’t say. At first, not sure if it’s going to last. They’re so different, or at least, that’s how things appear.

But with time, Virgil learns that isn’t necessarily the case. Yes, Remus is far louder and more abrasive than he is, but there are more commonalities between them then he might’ve thought. Remus is a Halloween freak, too, which is nice because none of Virgil’s friends like the holiday quite as much as he does. Remus adores horror movies, the gorier the better, and his shoulder makes the perfect spot to hide his face when things get too scary. Remus likes a lot of the same music (although his taste can be a tad crude sometimes, to say the least), and it’s nice, not having to worry that his playlist is to “emo.”

A lot of things are nice with Remus, Virgil comes to realize. Waking up beside him, singing along to music way too loudly, being picked up by him because good lord is he strong. It’s all just really… domestic, which isn’t something Virgil had ever seen for himself. So, yeah, they don’t make a lot of sense, at least not at first glance. But somehow, they just work, and that’s enough for Virgil. It’s more than enough.

Virgil turns over in bed, his right hand finding its way into Remus’s frazzled hair. His boyfriend’s mustache curls slightly upwards when his lip twitches upward into a smile, but he doesn’t wake, just arches closer to Virgil. Virgil smiles at this, stroking through his long hair.

His eyes glance to the cardboard moving boxes that litter the bedroom floor. God, he’s really got to start unpacking soon. He just moved into Remus’s apartment – their apartment now, he supposes – a week ago, and he’s been getting used to living with another person. Virgil had never let himself imagine such things, lying in bed with his boyfriend on a Saturday, having boxes to unpack because he moved in. It’s a lot to process, sometimes. It’s not bad, just kind of… intense. And mushy, gushy, and full of all the emotions he never expected to feel.

Virgil presses a kiss to the crown of Remus’s head, relishing in the smile that spreads over his sleeping face, before swinging his legs over the bed and heading into the kitchen.

Virgil groans at the sight of the dishes piled high in the sink. It’s his own damn fault; it was his turn to do the dishes (Christ, he never thought about the painfully mundane issues of a relationship like dish duty, or who takes out the garbage, or any of that). It’s… weird, not living alone anymore. He’d been so used to it for so long and, now here he is, existing in the same space as the man that he loves. He must be spending too much time with Roman because he’s turning into such a sap.

Being a sap aside, Virgil really should get these done while Remus is still asleep. That isn’t to say that Remus is some kind of a clean freak, because he really isn’t. It’d just be good to get the choir out of the way.

Virgil turns on his portable speaker, scrolling through his phone for the best music to play because turning music on while doing mundane tasks always gives him a little much-needed energy (which he generally has very little to speak for). He settles for MCR, “Teenagers” blaring as begins to scrub away last night’s pasta-sauce covered plates.

And okay, yeah, the music is probably cranked up too loud. Yeah, Virgil’s mouthing along to the words, singing some of them, and he really should just shut up and do the dishes considering his boyfriend is asleep in the other room. But Remus is such a heavy sleeper, and he’s never woken him up in the past playing music in another room, so why should he now?

Virgil’s absolutely positive that Remus is still dead asleep as he begins to move to the music, his voice gaining in volume as he sings along, unabashedly. It’s unlike him; Virgil’s always so riddled with self-consciousness. But social anxiety isn’t much of a factor alone in the kitchen doing the dishes, so he doesn’t focus on how ridiculous he must look, getting lost in the music and dancing like an idiot.

“Nice moves, hot stuff.”

Virgil shrieks, the sponge in his hand hitting the ground with an unceremonious splat.

“Sweet Frank Iero – Remus! You- you scared the shit out of me!”

There stands Remus, leaning in the doorway of the kitchen and beginning to cackle. Virgil feels a flush climb up from his necks all the way to his ears as he bends down to retrieve the sponge, and then to pause the music. Remus has the decency to wear boxers, considering how adamant he is about sleeping in the buff. He’d probably walk around nude most of the time if Virgil didn’t beg him not to. “We have neighbors!” “We live on the third floor.” “Well – still! You are not walking around our apartment with your dick hanging out.” “Aw, you’re no fun!”

 “Sorry for spooking you, scare-bear,” Remus says, though he doesn’t sound all that genuinely apologetic, especially not with that shit-eating-grin. “You know –.” “Stop. Whatever you’re going to say just – just don’t. I’m already about to die from embarrassment, don’t make it worse.” Virgil can feel his blush go from pink to crimson as Remus walks further into the room, his smile going impossibly wider.

“I don’t know what you mean, Virgey,” Remus croons, his hands finding their way to Virgil’s waist, chin perched on his shoulder. Virgil tries to keep his eyes trained on the dishes in the sink, the sponge trembling slightly in his hand, but Remus certainly isn’t making focusing easy.

“Yes, you fucking do.”

“I, for one, think you’re adorable.” Virgil’s cheeks, somehow, go redder.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.” Virgil groans, setting the sponge in the sink and shoving Remus off of him so he can turn around to face him. He’s still got that wicked smile; the bastard.

“Remus…”

“Virgil.”

“I’m… geez, I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” Virgil asks the realization that he might’ve been the cause of Remus waking catching up despite the embarrassment. Remus quickly shakes his head, his hair flopping in his face.

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’, “Course you didn’t. Have you ever?”

“Only when I’m really trying to, I guess,” Virgil says after thinking about it for a moment.

“I just woke up at the exact perfect time and didn’t want to make my presence noticed at first.”

“Creep,” Virgil says, but he’s throwing his arms around Remus and pulling him close all the same.

Remus accepts the embrace happily, pressing Virgil into his chest and kissing the top of his head. Remus gives the best hugs. The height difference was something he was initially a bit self-conscious about; but really, what doesn’t make him self-conscious? Quickly, though, he learned to love embraces from his boyfriend. Remus stands a head-and-a-half taller, and swallows Virgil up in his arms every time they hug. Remus hugs with everything he has, tight and protective. Virgil forgets that he was ever afraid of him in these moments, safe and secure in his arms.

“And what of it?” Remus says with a laugh, letting go of Virgil so he’s able to bend down and kiss him thoroughly. Virgil’s hands settle around his neck, a good portion of his embarrassment leaving.

“You’re such a dork.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Remus croons, kissing Virgil on the cheek before pulling away, “You want some breakfast, dance machine?” And there comes the embarrassment, roaring back to life.

“I swear if you’re going to keep teasing me –.”

“Oh, c’mon! Cut me some slack, babe. You’re cute as all hell!”

“Remmmm.”

“Do you want breakfast or not? Bacon, eggs?” Remus asks, trying to distract from his teasing. Virgil sighs.

“That depends: are you going to burn the bacon on purpose like last time?” Remus is silent, his smile devious. “Remus, I swear, if you do, I will go and get McDonald's and I will not share.”

“Ugh, fine,” Remus pouts dramatically, as if burning bacon just for the fun of it (although it can be quite fun to watch it curl up and turn all chalky and black) sounds any better than having breakfast with his boyfriend. “But only because I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too.”

Remus puts the bacon on the skillet, cracking the eggs in a pan and watching Virgil with amusement as he turns the speaker back on, MCR playing once more. Virgil can’t help but laugh as Remus begins to break into dance moves in front of the stove, wiggling his hips and singing along as he flips the eggs.

Eventually, Virgil can’t help but join in. Remus’s just like that; an infectious personality, to say the least. But Virgil’s glad for it. Really, really glad. Joining Remus in dancing to My Chemical Romance in their kitchen on a Saturday morning suddenly feels so natural. Remus makes it natural.

He doesn’t entirely know if he’ll ever be used to it, and he knows he’ll always be at least a little embarrassed about things like this. But it’s nice, and that’s something Virgil can settle into just fine.

=+=

General Taglist:

@nadiestar

@unoriginalgayboyalex 

@bella-in-a-bag

@igonnatalknothing

@elizabutgayer

@wishthefish916

@reptilianwithscallions

[kyouxa]

Diabolik lovers Chaos Lineage: Shu Sakamaki (Story 10+CG)

In terms of the gameplay: The black choices lead up to a bad ending, the white choices lead up to a good ending. Please no reposting onto other sites, ask me before translating this into another language too!♡

Monologue

The interior of Scarlet’s mansion was now completely different than it used to be as everyone felt a certain sense of urgency to claim the seat as the supreme ruler.

The main cause of this is because of Shu and Reiji-san.

A few days have passed since the fight took place, but the relationship between both of them is still as perilous as it has always been. Even if they have to face each other, not a single word is exchanged between them.

While I and Yuma-kun, didn’t even try to hide our confusion about what happened, Kino-kun viewed this situation as rather optimistic.

Place: Scarlet mansion — Corridor

Yui: (I think I’ve never witnessed such a quarrel between brothers in the Sakamaki mansion before… I wonder what caused this to happen?)

(There are still so many things I need to talk to him about, including the state of everyone’s memories and the mastermind’s intentions)

(But since especially Shu and Reiji-san can’t reconcile, we won’t be able to move on in any sort of way)

...I’ve got no choice, but to have a daringly talk with him about this matter then.

*Yui knocks*

Yui: Shu-san, it’s me. Would you mind if I come in?

Shu: ...Do as you please.

Place: Scarlet mansion — Shu‘s bedroom

Yui: Pardon me.

(Shu-san, he’s laying in his bed… which means he was probably sleeping until I entered)

Excuse me, were you sleeping?

Shu: Yes… but I was getting tired of lying in bed all day, so you didn’t particularly disturb me.

Yui: I wish there could’ve at least been a music mechanism to listen to music while staying in here.

Shu: You’re clearly pining something we can’t have in this house.

Leaving that aside, come here.

Yui: Eh? Do you need anything?

Uwah...

(Ugh, he pushed me… !)

Shu: It won’t feel as bored as I do, if you’re lying next to me.

Yui: I-If that’s so… I’ll gladly come closer.

Shu: You must really like the feeling of being held in my arms. It’s good to have a body pillow like you anyway.

Yui: Ah, was that a different way of saying that I’m somehow stout?

Shu: Fufu, who knows?

Yui: Come on… I can clearly see you’re laughing.

Shu: You shouldn‘t worry about these extraordinary things. You can at least accompany me with your nonexisting body while laying in bed.

Yui: (...Don’t say these things while you’re looking at my chest like this. You shouldn’t act like Ayato-kun would…)

Yui: (But it seems as if Shu-san’s in a good mood again. Maybe now’s the perfect time to ask him about Reiji-san)

Ah, about what happened with Reiji-san...

Shu: ...Why are you mentioning that name now of all time?

Yui: Err… umm… because you two didn’t act normal back then in the hallway… that’s all I want to know.

Shu: ...Aha.

Yui: (And of course once I just slightly mention Reiji-san’s name, he starts to act all pouty over it…)

(How badly I wish for them to reconcile. However, knowing their circumstances, this is impossible for me to say to him)

*Shu pushes Yui away*

Shu: Now that I’ve heard that unpleasant name, I want to go to sleep again. Listen, you have to remember this. Don’t get involved in unnecessary trouble.

Yui: Ah… y-yes.

(As soon as I tried getting up from his bed… I noticed how he formed wrinkles in the area between his eyebrows)

(It’s so unusual for him to set up this kind of stature, because of a small thing like this. Is he really mad at me for what I said?)

*someone harshly opens door*

Yuma: Hey, Shu! You here!?

Yui: Yuma-kun!?

Yuma: What? You were with Eve together here? Well, you’re still her guard, so I guess that justified this.

Shu: Don’t enter my room so abruptly.

Yuma: There‘s no particular reason to care about that, we’re still siblings after all.

Apart from that, I’ve brought something really good with me that should make you feel better.

Yui: Something good?

Yuma: Correct. I’ve also got a portion prepared for you, don’t worry.

C’mon, look! These are some sugar cubes I reserved!

Yui: ...Eh?

Shu: ...Hah? Why did you bring sugar cubes with you?

Yuma: I brought them with me because they were coming along with other stuff in the supply box today.

I actually planned to have them all for myself, but they’re this special that I had to share them.

Shu: I don’t especially need them.

Yuma: Don’t decline them like that! Whenever you get irritated, sweet things are always the best choice to make.

Shu: I can’t get the meaning of eating such things as sweet food anyway.

Yuma: You haven‘t experienced the strength these sugar cubes have within them then. You’ll understand how tasty they are once you at least try one of them.

Yui: (Perhaps Yuma-kun’s expressing how worried he was about Shu-san in his very own way right now)

By any chance, did you come over here to encourage and cheer up Shu-san after what happened recently?

Yuma: Hah? Ahh, if you want to call it that...

But I was concerned about you both, since it’s not normal for us as brothers to start squabbling and mocking each other like that.

So as I expected, you have a rather hard time laughing this off recently.

Yui: I see… thank you.

Yuma: Hah? Why are you being so grateful all of the sudden? Weird woman.

Shu: You seriously meant what you said about checking on me and Reiji because you were concerned?

Yuma: That’s exactly what I said just now. I thought there must’ve been more behind it than you two showed.

Listen, I always see you either sleeping or looking totally bored with no sense of motivation on your face whatsoever.

Yui: (Err, this might be an awful topic right now…)

Yuma: But, sharing your thoughts to make others understand, is what a real man should do.

I know I’ve got no right to break into your trouble with each other, yet we’re family and I want to understand this matter.

I mean, even that chap Reiji noticed how he made a fool of himself because of that. That‘s why, I hope you’ll be vigorous soon again, big brother.

Shu: It’s a somehow strange feeling to have you treat me like an older brother. 

Yuma: Hah? To say it like that, even though I went through the trouble telling you that.

Shu: Not that I begged you to tell me though.

Yuma: Hah!? Jeez, at least I’m honest about my feelings.

♡Roses♡

Yui‘s head: Hey, what‘s there to laugh about? Don‘t you feel bad for doing so now?

Yuma’s chest: No matter the circumstances, you really seem to never change yourself.

Yui: Fufu...

Yuma: Hey, Eve. What are you laughing at?

Yui: Ah, sorry. I somehow felt glad while hearing that.

(Although this entire situation is messy, it seems as if Shu-san and Yuma-kun are getting along quite well. I’m really happy about that)

Shu-san. Now that Yuma-kun went through the trouble bringing these to you, why don’t you eat them?

Shu: Haa… I’ve already told you that I’m not going to.

Your blood has probably way better taste than those sugar cubes do anyway.

Yui: W-What are you saying!? Don’t do that in front of Yuma-kun...

Shu: This should be irrelevant to another man listening. Aren’t you my property to begin with?

Yui: H-Hold on, Shu-san… !

Yuma: You two are somehow… getting incredible well along, aren’t you?

Don’t tell me, did you make Eve your girlfriend all of a sudden already?

Shu: That’s right.

Yuma: Hah!? For real!? Since when!?

Yui: A-Ah… Shu-san! Please come over here for a second!

*Yui pulls Shu aside*

Shu: What is it? For you to immediately grab my arm like that.

Yui: Is it really okay for you to tell him that? Yuma-kun doesn’t remember anything yet, and exactly because of that, he could still go against us… !

Shu: I don’t particularly mind. We’re telling him nothing else but the truth anyway.

Yui: Y-You’re right...

Shu: Didn’t you want to approach someone about this situation to begin with?

Choices

1) Honestly convey him (white)♡♡♡

2) Hide the truth from him (black)

— Honestly convey him♡

Yui: (It may be embarrassing to admit for me, but we need to honestly convey him)

No... that’s not true.

Even you as my lover were impressed by Yuma-kun, who would gladly do something to make you happy again. 

Shu: Heh… if so, it’s fine not to keep our secret anymore?

This way I wouldn’t have to necessarily hide you from all of the family members anymore.

— Hide the truth from him

Yui: I think it would be better… if we stay silent about this.

Shu: Then you could either tell Yuma this was a convenient and childish prank I put upon him

Or you go ahead and choose to stay to the truth, which is us being lovers.

Yui: Is that so...

Shu: You did look more happy than serious despite me telling him the truth all of the sudden anyway.

Yui: (That was… because I’d obviously be happy if someone introduced me as their lover)

(It really seems as if Shu-san’s able to see through everything I think about… I’m no match for him after all)

end Choices

Yuma: ...You know, both of you. I’d appreciate it if you could continue flirting once I left the room or whatever.

Yui: Eh… ! That wasn’t additionally our intention… !

Yuma: I was gonna leave anyway. This way I won‘t be an impediment on your doing.

Shu: Wait, Yuma. I need you to listen to a favor I have to ask.

Yuma: What is it? No need to be formal.

Shu: In case of an emergency, I wish for you to protect her instead of me.

Yui: Eh...

Yuma: Hah...? What are you suddenly blabbering about?

Shu: With my current circumstances, I might be at fault to get involved in another bad situation.

However, I place enough trust in you, because I do believe you’re a really reliable guy, to protect her in those given circumstances.

Therefore, I’ll rely on you and entrust this person to you, once the time to do so might come.

Yui: (Shu-san, what are you talking about? It’s as if you’re hinting at something happening…)

Shu-san...? Why are you saying this?

Yuma: She’s right. Stop saying these weird things, while you have such a serious face on.

On the contrary, if you suddenly start calling out for this sort of occurence to happen, there’s no way I’d not be terrified at first.

Shu: …..

Yui: (Shu-san… what‘s going through your head right now? This is somehow giving me a presentiment feeling…)

Yuma: But, okay… if anything is going to happen any time soon, you can surely rely on me.

Shu: Yes… I entrust her to you. 

Yuma: We have an agreement then. Well, just eat the sugar cubes I gave you, and make sure to cheer up.

See ya.

*Yuma leaves*

Yui: Ah… why did you promptly tell Yuma-kun to do such a thing… ?

Shu: You don’t have to worry about that.

Yui: But...

Shu: It’ll be fine. There’s no need for you to worry about anything.

Yui: (Those domineering eyes...)

(There may be more to this than he wants to admit, but if Shu-san tells me not to think about it too much, then—)

…Okay, fine. I won’t continue to ask anymore.

(I’ll keep believing in you, in Shu-san’s abilities)

Shu: Yes, leave it to me… and with this, this is the end of this topic.

Yui: Fine with me. Then, why don’t you eat the sugarcubes you’ve received from Yuma-kun now?

Shu: I won’t eat those sugary things. Why don’t you eat it instead?

Yui: Don‘t say such a harsh thing. After all, you got this as a gift to cheer up from Yuma-kun.

Shu: I’ve been telling you this some time ago already, didn’t I?

Yui: Ah… Shu-san.

Shu: Your blood is more appetizing and sweet-tasting compared to these sugar cubes.

I have my preferences, even if Yuma tried to cheer me up with these.

Wouldn’t it be natural for you as my lover to sympathize with me over such a fact?

Yui: …But a while ago, didn’t you say you don’t enjoy sweet food?

Shu: Don’t bother making me say it again. Your blood is the only special exception for me… No.

The taste your blood has makes me lose my mind every time over again. The reason I’m obsessed with it, is none other than its hot feeling which could make someone melt away.

Yui: ….. !

(For him to suddenly say all these things… I can’t possibly resist him like this)

Okay, I get it. Please drink as much as you like, until you feel satisfied.

Shu: Continue to leave your entire body to me. Your blood is to me, above anything else, tremendously delicious.

Yui: (Nn… he gently brushed my cheeks. It’s a good feeling having him do this…)

Shu: As I told you. This hot liquid makes anyone feel as if they had better dissolved.

I’ll have to diligently prepare it to make it digest then. You should know I usually wouldn’t bring up the time to do so.

Yui: (His fingers are at the nape of my neck… I feel them touching the outline of it)

(Seems as if he indeedly is going to suck my blood from this place)

Shu: What? You almost seem to run out of breath. Have you imagined me sucking your blood in the spot I’m currently touching?

Yui: Y-Yes...

Shu: At least you’re being honest today. Well, in that case I might just do as you wish… Nn...

Yui: Nn, Ah...

(His fangs pierced my neck… and my body already feels like heating up, despite him just starting)

Nn, Shu-san...

Shu: I understand. I won‘t restrain any longer then… Nn… Nn...

Yui: Ngh… Ah...

(The place he inserted his fangs is even hotter now... No, the blood flowing inside is what got hotter)

(So this is how it feels to be enlivened? It feels as if it’s my life, what he‘s currently sucking up)

(I wish for my blood to be able to continue satisfying Shu-san‘s life, despite it might overcoming him)

Shu: ...Nn… Nn...

Yui: (No matter what it takes, among all the things I can do, I’d especially do anything in order to keep Shu-san safe—)

[vansmaybeonthewall]

Another One?

Masterlist

requests are open 

i did promise something to my fellow Misha’s and it has been fulfilled  

(don’t judge the choices I make, no God can tame me)

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“So get this. Lake Cachuma, California. Three men found dead with their ears blown out. All three found at the same place, at the edge of a dock leading into the water.”

“And this is our thing how?”

“Well, they weren’t taking some lovely vacation Dean. All three were found in their suits with a little note spilling their secret infidelities.”

“That’ll do it. Do we have a lead?”

“Yeah, Cassandra Peters. Senior at Santa Barbara High School, her dad was the most recent victim.”

“I hope you packed your bikini Sammy, California here we come.”

A Few Hours Later...

Yeah, it wasn’t sunny and warm as Dean Winchester expected. Cloudy skies and a light breeze greeted Sam and Dean as they arrived at the Peters household. Thunder rumbled in the distance, signifying a coming storm. 

“Still ready for that swim Dean?”

“Oh shut up.”

“I don’t think you’ll need sunscreen anymore, I know how much you hate it.”

“Sam-

“Um, can I help you?”

The argument came to a halt when a young girl opened the door.

“Cassandra Peters?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you mind if we talk to you about-”

“My dad’s death? So does everyone else, so how are you any different?”

Sam and Dean were left speechless. Sure there were people who were defensive after a family death, but a teenage girl? Usually, day old mascara streaks could be seen with red, teary eyes. But Cassandra Peters? Her face was void of any emotion with dull eyes. 

“We know what it’s like,” Dean started, “to lose someone.”

“Yeah well, do you know what it’s like to learn that that person wasn’t someone you knew?”

“We understand if you don’t want to talk about it, nobody does, but sometimes it’s easier to tell someone how you actually feel.” Sam hoped that was enough to get the girl talking. 

She looked slightly guilty, I mean, they looked like nice guys. 

“Look, I’m sorry. A friend of mine taught me to stop the tears with being an asshole. I don’t see how it works or how she does it, but I guess it’s a coping mechanism. Not for me I suppose.”

“Believe us when we say we understand.”

“Well, seeing as you’re still here, ask away.”

“Okay, was there anything strange that occurred around the time your dad died?”

“Well besides the weather, I don’t think so. Like the two before, a rain storm hit without warning. The streets flooded, you could barely see in front of you.”

“What about your dad? Did he seem strange to you?”

“Yeah, maybe two days before he seemed nervous, scared. He kept saying someone was following him. Some girl in a white dress.”

“Did he say what she looked like?”

“You see, that’s the strange part. He said he saw Y/N, which is weird because she was with me or in rehearsal. And there is no way Y/N would skip rehearsal.”

“Do you know where we can find Y/N?”

“She should be at rehearsal now actually. She’s not in trouble is she?”

“No, we just need to check up on her, have a little chat.”

“She’s at the high school, but be careful, she really doesn’t like being interrogated about her parents or any family related subject. She gave me the tip of being an asshole instead of being depressed, still not seeing how that works.”

“Can we ask why?”

“Her step-dad was the first victim.”

“Right. Well, if you think of anything, give us a call. Even the smallest thing can help.”

Dean handed her the famous “business” card, which made Cassandra do a double-take. 

“Sam and Dean Winchester? As in Y/N Winchester?”

“Sorry?”

“Y/N Winchester, that’s who I’m talking about. You have the same name. Now come to think of it, you guys kind of look alike.”

Cassandra pulls a picture from her phone.

“This is Y/N.”

Sam and Dean share a look, one between shock and nervousness.

“Would you, uh, would you mind telling us about her?” Dean asked, afraid to know the truth. 

“I don’t see why not, this is some TV shit. But you should probably come in, the rain won’t be getting any better.”

The Peters household was quiet and empty. Even with all the lights on, the house was dark. What captured the brother’s attention was the pictures of Cassandra and Y/N. 

“So what do you wanna know?”

“Anything really.”

“Okay. Y/N Marie Winchester, where to start. Born June 25, 1989, she’s a Cancer. Tall, like you two. She has the kindest eyes, when she looks at her it’s like she can see into your soul. She acts tough at first, but once she lets you in she’s one of the funniest people you’ve ever known. Oh, absolutely hates dresses, her favorite things to wear are flannels and her leather jacket. God that leather jacket, she never takes that thing off. She loves to sing, always has. She doesn’t like to get close to people, it’s like she’s afraid they’ll get hurt or that maybe she’ll have to leave them behind.”

Sam smiled softly and Dean held a thoughtful look, Could there really be another Winchester?

“Wait, she has your smile. And she has that same look when taking a test. Do you really not know if you’re related?”

“No, no Y/N Winchester has came up.”

“Well, I’ll take you to her. One, I’d love for Y/N to have her family. Two, I need a source of happiness and this family reunion will do it.”

“Lead the way.”

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

“Okay, one more run through ‘World Burn’ and that’s a wrap. Y/N you ready?”

“Always.”

“Alright, from the top!”

Approx. a minute or two later, idk time 

As the trio made their way to the theatre, Cassandra could hear the chorus. 

“Come on! We’re gonna miss the best part.”

Lucky for them, they made it before the big note. 

“Gotta love a woman in power. Wait here, I’ll bring her to you.” Cassandra jogs towards Y/N as she jumped offstage. Greeting her with a hug, she explains her predicament. 

“A sister,” Dean started, “we might have a sister?”

“With the world we live in, I don’t find it impossible Dean.”

“But why would Dad-”

“Sam, Dean, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Sam and Dean. Winchester.”

“Okay, I get that, but that doesn’t automatically make us related Cass.”

“Stop being hard-headed. Why don’t you guys talk it out? I’ll meet up with Jessie. See you later jerk.” With that, Cassandra took a U-turn towards another student.

“Bitch.” Y/N called after her. She turned towards the two giants, making a face at their surprised ones. “What?”

“Nothing, do you mind if we talk to you outside?”

“I don’t see why not.”

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

“Holy shit! Is that a 1967 Chevy Impala? Please tell me it’s yours, I’ll tell you all my life secrets if it is.”

“Uh, yeah, it is.” Dean stuttered. The information the brothers were learning kept hitting them in the face. Is she really a Winchester?

“Yes! Let us congregate at this lunch table and I’ll spill my tragic life story.”

“So, you sing?”

“Yeah, best thing that’s ever happened to me. Everyone says I took it from my mom, but who knows, not me that’s for sure. Me and Cass are also in a band, which reminds me, I have to be somewhere in two hours, so if we could do this a little fast that would be great thanks.”

Dean, unlike Sam, wanted to get straight to the point. Why ease into the subject when it is so painfully obvious she’s a Winchester?

“What do you know about your dad?”

“Not much really, I just know he took off before I was born. I lived with my mother until I was about 5. Then my quote unquote “dad” came back into my life and my mother disappeared. Stayed with him for about a year, met a lot of strange people, and I was finally dropped off with some random couple here. Terrible parenting, but here I am alive and well I guess. But he did leave me some sort of book, more of a copy.”

Both brothers were intrigued in her life story. A strange life, a Winchester life. Y/N pulled the book out of her backpack, but when she did her shirt allowed the top of the anti-possession tattoo to peak out. Everything was pointing towards the fact that the three were related, but we can’t have any stones left unturned can we?

“Did that book say anything about your dad? A name, a picture maybe?” Sam was anxious.

“There was a letter when the book was first given to me with the initials J.W. but that’s it. I don’t think he wants to be found.” A solemn look crossed her face. “Well, that was fun, but I have to go.”

“Wait-”

“Look, you guys seem nice and it would be cool if we were related somehow, but I have a place to be. You’re welcome to come by though. I’ll give you my number, and maybe we could talk tomorrow. I should have more time seeing that it is Saturday tomorrow. It was nice meeting you Sam and Dean. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

As she walked away, Sam and Dean formed a plan. First, kill whatever monster terrorizing the town, then find out who the hell Y/N Winchester was.

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

So close, but apparently so far. Upon looking in the journal, Sam and Dean found  a new monster, a siren. And though the monster seemed to be a siren, something wasn’t right. The bleeding ears made no sense. No siren case had bleeding ears. However, banshee cases dealt with bleeding ears, but no bodies near water. There was only one answer.

Break time. 

Y/N had sent Dean a message about the bar her band would be at, so the brothers decided to find out as much as they could about the girl before heading there.

“Dean, there’s nothing in the journal and I’ve read through it twice, what else are we missing?”

“Missing...missing...missing! Sammy, you’ve outdone yourself.” Dean reached into his pocket and pulled the stolen letter.

“Dean!”

“What! It slipped out of her journal.” Bitchface. “Okay, maybe I slipped it out of her journal, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that we can compare Dad’s handwriting with the letter. And then you can hack into hospital records to find her birth certificate.”

“I am not hacking into the hospital records.”

“Oh c’mon Sammy, don’t you want to know who she is?”

“Of course I do, but I don’t want to get arrested while doing it.”

“Whatever, just give me the journal.”

Dean was only going to skim over the handwriting before something caught his eye. Information that wasn’t shared lay on the paper. The J.W was obvious on the bottom, but what caught his eyes were his name, Sam’s name, and an unfamiliar one. 

“That little bitch.”

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

It took too long, it took too long, it took too long For you to call back And normally, I would just forget that Except for the fact it was my birthday My fuckin' birthday

Sam and Dean entered the bar, a bar that apparently allowed teenagers in, and spotted Y/N on the small stage. They could see why she needed to leave, not only to get them off her tail, but for all the other students partying their asses off.

We got along, we got along, we got along Until you did that Now all I want is just my stuff back Do you get that? Let me repeat that I want my shit back  

“So what’s the plan?”

“One we have to get her away from everyone else. Two, we can’t let her out of our sight. Remember what Cassandra said, the weather aligns with a body being found the next day. And since we don’t know the next victim, we have to hold Y/N hostage somehow.” 

“Where do we take her? She’s not going to abandon her friends Dean.”

“I don’t know, tell her we found something about Dad or her mom. Technically, we’re not lying, so don’t feel bad about it.” 

“Yeah, yeah alright.”

The two parted ways, searching for inconspicuous exits while watching Y/N. Though, it didn’t take long before Y/N spotted Sam. 

“Hey Sam, glad you made it. Where’s Dean?”

“He’s around here somewhere. Look, I needed to talk to you about your dad. We think we found something.”

“Now?”

“Yeah, I mean, if you can.”

“Now’s not really a good time. We can’t pick this up tomorrow?”

“It’s ki-” “Sammy!”

“Oh hey Y/N, mind if we talk to you for a second?”

“I can’t leave-”

“Yeah, but we really need to talk to you.” Dean had a smug smirk holding up the letter. 

“Fine.” 

Outside...

“So Y/N, you got anything important to tell us?”

“Nothing you don’t already know Dean.”

“Wrong answer.”

“Dean-”

“No Sammy, she needs to start telling the truth before someone gets hurt. Like little Cassie’s dad or Jessie’s dad.” 

“What do you want from me Dean?”

“You see, we were here on a case, but I bet you already knew that. Three people were killed, your step-dad, Matthew Jacobs, and Holt Peters, but you already knew that. All three said they saw a girl in white, and what do you know, it was you. We thought we solved the case, but nothing fit the banshee or siren profile. Imagine my surprise when I find my name along with Sam’s and a little gift. Athena Drea, some hybrid between a banshee and a siren. Fits the profile doesn’t it? Oh but that’s not all, Dad knew her, dear old John Winchester knew your mommy. And I’m betting that she disappeared because her time was up. What I don’t understand is your name? Why were you blessed with some form of mom’s name? What is so special about Y/N Marie Winchester?”

Angry tears streamed down Y/n’s face.

“Congratulations Dean Winchester. You figured me out.”

“Y/N-”

“No, it’s fine Sam, he’s right. What’s so special about me? The fact that I have no parents? That I have my mother’s powers? That I’m related to you? Nothing good comes with being me. There’s always a catch. Those people I killed? They tried to kill me first. Those lies about cheating, made them up. Yes it’s sick and twisted, but I’m still alive right? I’m lucky? I tried to protect you from knowing me, from being related to me. Why do you think I never reached out to you? Everyone around me gets hurt. My friends don’t know me like they think they do, I killed their dad! There is nothing special about me, and god if there is, I’d really like to know. Because all I know is that I’m a screw up with no family. So forgive me for running and lying.”

She tried to leave, but an arm on her shoulder prevented her from doing so. 

“You two should go, leave before something else happens. There’s no monster to kill, but I’d gladly let you kill me. That wouldn’t be the worst thing that’s happened to me.”

“Y/N.”

She shrugged his hand off and started to run.

“Y/N!”

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

“You were right, I should have never gotten attached.”

It was dark, the only source of light came from the moon. The sounds of the lake calmed Y/N from the harsh argument. 

“People got hurt.”

The quiet brought her peace.

“Some were innocent. Cass and Jessie, they didn’t deserve their family to fall apart.”

It took Sam and Dean quite a while to find Y/N. 

“I met them. Sam and Dean, they seem nice, but I screwed up mum. I lied and I don’t think they like me much anymore. It was nice to know that I had family out there. I know dad told me in the letter, but I didn’t think we would meet. You know how it goes, hunters and monsters don’t mix.”

Sneaking behind her wasn’t easy.

“I don’t understand mum. I don’t know what to do anymore. I can’t stay here anymore. I’ll have to leave and I won’t have anybody anymore.”

“You have us.”

She whipped around to find her brothers awkwardly standing there. 

“What do you two bozos want?”

Sam took the initiative, “We want you to come with us.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re family,” Dean surprisingly said, “and family means no one gets left behind.”

With that, the three had a slightly awkward, yet welcomed group hug,

Hours later.....

Everything was sorted. Y/N was leaving with Sam and Dean, and it was exciting. No more school, Sam sort of disapproved on that. A constant road trip with her family. Although, they would encounter many obstacles in their journey. 

Only one thing was left in Y/N’s mind. She sat in the backseat of the Impala and couldn’t resist it any longer.

“Hey Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you just Lilo & Stitch me back there?” Sam laughed and Y/N started to giggle.

“Shut up.” But he looked out his window with a smile.

She really was a Winchester.

[tarhalindur]

2021 NFL Predictions

Man, as someone who occasionally spends too much time thinking about the NFL (football: the closest thing American sports have to a turn-based strategy game) and trying to predict how its season will go it occurs to me: why do all this work in my head and not write it up?  So, here goes nothing:

(Terminology note: “true talent” = estimate of how many games I would expect the team to win given average luck and schedule.  The categories are derived off the old 16-game schedule because that’s what I was drawing off of and I’ll need to see how the new schedule plays to calibrate the break points now: as it is, “Super Bowl contender”: true-talent 12-13 wins or better (in 16 games); “division contender”: 10-12 wins; “wild card contender": 7-10 wins, with 9-10 being “upper end” and 7-8 being “low end”; everyone below that is bad.)

- The AFC South got fucked by the scheduling gods (they drew the AFC East and NFC West, likely the two deepest divisions in the NFL), and I will be quite surprised if any team in it gets a wild card. (Let’s take an upper-case outcome and assume the second-place team in the division sweeps two terrible teams and splits with the division champ.  That’s five wins.  Assume the Jets are terrible too and that’s six.  And then... what?  Barring a Kliff implosion and/or the Rams rolling injuries to the stars on their stars-and-scrubs roster the worst team in the NFC West should be at least true-talent seven wins.  New England could be trash if Mac is bad or gets injured now that Hoyer is their best backup, but otherwise every non-Jets team in the AFC East is true-talent nine wins or better.  Cross-divisional?  Not likely unless the Colts implode due to injuries and Jacksonville does massively better than expected - they get the Bengals and Broncos, and the Falcons might also count depending on whether that team hits its fail states.  The AFC South would even have a hard time benefiting if both the Browns and Chargers implode, because the third place team last year is the one team basically guaranteed to be terrible in Houston.  A wild card isn’t impossible, but it needs a whole lot of dice rolls to go in a team’s favor either on the field or between games - which is by definition not likely.)

- The NFC North also gets an uphill climb to a wild card. They rolled the NFC West, the AFC North, and the new cross-conference against the AFC West, an absolutely brutal set.  Getting a wild card out of that probably needs at least 4-2 in the division (probably needs exactly one of CHI/MIN to implode, though sniping a game off Green Bay also works) and some good fortune either in games that should be close in true talent or in events elsewhere (the easy road involves at least two implosions in CLE/PIT/ARI).

- The AFC East probably gets a wild card.  They rolled the AFC South (likely 2-3 games where you’re heavily favored if you’re even a wild card contender) and the NFC South (admittedly not free, but NO and CAR are both probably winnable and while I’m high on the Falcons they have significant downside risk - there’s also the possibility that Father Time finally gets to the far side of his near-Brady experience), plus the Jets and the new cross-conference game against the NFC East.  Worlds where the AFC East doesn’t get a wild card probably involve both multiple implosions in the AFC North and West and at least one of Coach of the Year Robert Saleh and OROY Zach Wilson.

- The AFC West probably gets a wild card?  They rolled the other likely weak division in the NFC East, which goes a long way, and frankly there’s enough teams with implosion risk in the AFC North and West (CLE, DEN, maybe LAR, maybe PIT) that it’s probably going to happen to someone.

- The NFC East... they’re probably exporting a whole bunch of wins as well?  Not a guarantee, though, I could actually see them get a wild card if there’s enough implosions in either the NFC South or the AFC West.

- The AFC North might be the highest-variance division in football.  If they hit the high end they’re absolutely stacked, but there’s a real risk the Browns are fool’s gold (I think they were a true-talent 8-8 team last year that lucked into one of the easiest schedules in years, the question is how much they improved) and that Father Time gets The Older Rapist enough to knock the Steelers down to a true-talent 8 win team (have a hard time seeing them go further down with Mike Tomlin’s team-building, though admittedly they might underperform that given Tomlin’s occasional issues with not covering certain receivers and looking past bad teams on the road).  One thing’s for sure: I don’t think there’s enough wins for all of the AFC North, AFC West, and NFC North to get wild cars.

- The NFC South has one good team (barring Father Time finally getting Brady, one that should be decent (Payton isn’t a bad coach), and two that could be anywhere from wild-card contenders to outright collapses.  Note that with the Easts and Souths playing each other this year, there’s too many wins for both the NFC East and NFC South to whiff wild cards unless both divisions seriously export wins to the AFC (in which case the AFC North has an uphill climb and there’s a pretty good chance that the AFC East gets two wild cards and the other goes to the AFC West).

(Bonus under the cut: individual team thoughts!)

- Bills: Should be in the playoffs and are the division favorites, but slightly more downside than they’re getting credit for. The problems are twofold: what should have been the second most favorable schedule in the division (because the likely best teams in both the AFC North and NFC East did not finish first last year) is salted by the schedule gods taking away: they draw Pittsburgh in the season opener so are the single most likely team to face a full-strength The Older Rapist, and they draw Washington in September as well maximizing the chance that they get Fitzpatrick before he inevitably turns back into a pumpkin.  (Fitzpatrick playing out of his mind and beating the Bills mostly singlehandedly and getting Team fans’ hopes up before dashing them would be peak Fitzpatrick...)  More to the point, their early schedule is PIT, @MIA, WAS, HOU, @KC, @TEN; it’s not out of the question they start 2-4 or even 1-5 going into the bye if the stars really align against them, and at that point locker room morale becomes a factor.

- Dolphins: Wild card contender (true talent roughly 10 wins), could be more if Tua really develops or the Bills stumble. Good news: they dodge KC and instead get the Raiders in a quite winnable game, on top of the common AFC East schedule, and now they get the Giants (who I suspect are the worst team in the NFC East) as well. More good news: like, the worst Miami is doing against the Pats is a split, right?  Bad news: they face Baltimore.

- Patriots: With Cam gone and Hoyer (a second-tier backup at this point) the presumptive backup the Pats are suddenly one of the highest-variance teams in the league.  If Mac Jones is good immediately they’re a division contender, and if he’s even a competent game manager they’re another true-talent 10-win wild card contender given that run game and possibly that front seven as well. If he’s bad or gets injured, however, they now might very well wind up with a top 10 pick.  Which might actually be part of the point, on top of doing a vet a solid and avoiding any locker room issues?  In a weird sense Belichick is unconstrained by job security in a way no other NFL coach is; he doesn’t have unlimited job security... but he’s also nearly 70, and if the rebuild fails then by the time his seat would really be getting hot he’s probably considering retiring anyways.  So he’s playing with house money.  It’s not likely, but don’t be shocked if the Pats pull what Arizona did a few years back and draft a first-round QB two years in a row - it’s definitely an option if Mac is terrible.

- Jets: Not out of the question as a dark horse if Zach Wilson is good, I’ve been getting good vibes off of Saleh.  Problem is the combination of their division and injury issues; I’m not sure they have the roster to overcome that yet.

- Steelers: Basically covered above.  If Big Ben aka The Older Rapist is still above average they’re a wild card contender or even an outright division contender again; if Father Time gets him and they’re stuck with Mason Rudolph or Dwayne Haskins-level play at QB they probably still win a few games because Mike Tomlin is not a bad coach but they have an uphill climb.

- Baltimore: The one obvious division contender in the AFC North, given a very good quarterback and one of the five best coaches in the league.  Admittedly their OC is potentially a question mark, but they should get back to the playoffs.

- Cleveland: Actually hard to tell.  There’s two offsetting issues here.  First, as mentioned above their schedule was soft as fuck last year and that’s unlikely to still be the case. On the other hand, I think there’s a decent chance they take a step forward this year.  Ceiling is about where their record was last year barring a massive leap, floor is a 7-8 win team unless a bunch of other teams hit their upside at Cleveland’s expense.

- Bengals: Depends on how good and/or healthy Burrow is, but they probably finish last in the division regardless.  Low-end wild card contender if everything goes right?

- Titans: The one team in the AFC South that should actually be good.  Exactly how good depends on things like “did they overuse Derrick Henry last year?” and “is the defense any good at all?”, but the fail state here is a true-talent wild card contender in a likely soft division.

- Colts: Depends on two questions: can they get Wentz back to anything resembling 2018 form, and do they keep getting bit by the injury bug?  AFAICT the core roster is of the classic “quarterback away” type with good D and a decent running game (see also this year: Denver, Washington, possibly Carolina, Pats if Mac Jones doesn’t pan out).  The best case is that they can reclaim Wentz and the injury bug is done with them for the year, in which case they challenge TEN for the division.  Worst case Wentz is bad and/or injured and half their roster is on IR, in which case they get a top-10 pick and the AFC East and NFC West are even more likely to get wild cards than they were already.

- Texans: Obvious tire fire, and not just on the field at this point.  Problem is the tire fire includes both the new owner and his favorite exec, so they’re likely to remain a tire fire for a while...

- Jaguars: Probably depends on how good Trevor Lawrence is and how quickly, especially since I suspect Urban Meyer is at higher-than-usual risk of flaming out.  Best case they’re a true-talent 8 win team that might manage to take advantage of a soft-ish schedule to challenge for the seventh seed.  Otherwise look for them to export wins.

- Chiefs: Obvious Super Bowl contender is obvious, barring a Mahomes injury they’re the presumptive division favorite and near-locks for the playoffs.

- Raiders: I’m high on Carr (solid Tier 2 quarterback IMO, on par with someone like Tannehill and I’d take him over Kirk Cousins - and probably Baker Mayfield, too, though maybe not since Mayfield has less track record and thus higher upside).  I’m considerably less sold on Gruden, and have doubts about what he’s done to the roster.  Still should be a wild-card contender.

- Chargers: How much of last year’s late-season run was fool’s gold?  Not sure.  Could be all, could be none.  IIRC they replaced their head coach, so that hole is at least possibly filled.  Herbert is probably good, though I want another season of track record to be confident.  The real problem here is that they still seem to be connected to some Indian burial ground somewhere.  Upside is division contender, downside is 6 wins or so.

- Broncos: QB-away team in a bad division for it.  At least they get the NFC East, but I suspect they finish out of the playoffs again this year.

(Interlude: A general thing to note about the NFC is that due to two QB injuries and one QB retirement there is exactly one team that finished first place in their division last year that I expect to be the best true-talent team in their division this year.  Worse, due to the aforementioned injuries two teams I expect to be the best or at worst second-best in their divisions finished third and fourth in their divisions last year, respectively.  This is throwing a giant monkey wrench in the usual SOS-based scheduling balance.)

- Football Team: The Football Team has the kind of defense that’s a characteristic of the QB-away team.  There’s two differences between the Team and the usual suspect, however.  First, I’m not entirely sure how good their line and thus running game will be. Second, and more importantly, the usual QB-away team has a consistently mediocre medium-to-high floor, low-ceiling quarterback. The Football Team, by way of contrast, has Ryan Fitzpatrick, arguably the single highest-variance QB of the last two decades, a man who will absolutely win you games you should have lost… and lose you games you should have won.  Also, he’s in his upper 30s and thus at risk of Father Time coming for his NFL career.  So, the questions: how many games do you get Fitzmagic and how many do you get Fitztragic?  If the usual cycle applies, when exactly does he turn back into a pumpkin?  And is the division + the lower end of the NFC South soft enough that it doesn’t matter?

- Giants: Probably the worst team in their division, and my pick for the most likely second-worst team in the NFC.  I don’t like Daniel Jones, I don’t like most of the rest of the roster, and their coach is unimpressive.

- Cowboys: Remember those quarterback injuries I was talking about?  Right.  The ‘Boys are not without flaws – the defense is notoriously questionable (though by preseason reports they may actually have drafted a difference-maker of a linebacker this year) and Mike McCarthy may well be a downgrade compared to Jason Garrett.  But barring another injury (eyes Dak’s shoulder nervously) they have a QB (I’m a bit low on Dak relative to most people, but in this case “low” still means a Tier 2 quarterback roughly on par with Derek Carr), and they should have an offense.  Barring a Jalen Hurts breakout or Fitzpatrick rolling Fitzmagic for most of the year, with a healthy Dak this is at worst a wild-card contender in a weak division and thus the presumptive favorites for the division title.

- Eagles: Oof.  This team is hard to judge, mostly because AFAICT they’re a weird superposition of potentially very good and potentially complete trash (that’s also spelled “very high variance”).  The issues are twofold: they have a largely untested starting quarterback who was roughly average last year but might develop (the aforementioned Hurts), and they have quite a few very good but aging players on the roster.  Best case, Hurts plays like a Tier 2 or even Tier 1 quarterback, the rest of the roster holds, and they’re in contention for the division title and/or a wild card slot.  Worst case, Hurts is meh, the vets fall off or get injured… and then next year might be even worse because at that point you probably need a rebuilding year even if they hit this year’s draft picks.

- Packers: There’s risk here, mostly of the forms “simmering issues blow up the locker room” and “age and/or injury sap Aaron Rodgers and Jordan Love is meh or worse”.  But Aaron Rodgers is one of the five best quarterbacks in the NFL until proven otherwise, and both the coach and the rest of the roster are at least decent, so barring those the Packers should be at worst a division contender with Super Bowl aspirations ala the Ravens.

- Chicago: Uh.  Hmm.  I like the Fields pick, gut says he’s a pretty solid bet at a Tier 2 quarterback of some description barring catastrophic injury.  IIRC the D is still good.  But I do not like that O-line, and I do not like that schedule, and I’m not a big fan of Coach Nagy either.  In the NFC East or AFC South the Bears would have at least a decent chance at the playoffs.  Here?  Not so much. It’s not impossible the Bears do well, but I think a top-10 draft pick is more likely.

- Vikings: Hmm.  By true talent the Vikings are probably a wild-card contender in the same vein as the mid-2010s Bengals.  That’s not quite a good comparison, because I’ve got Zimmer as probably a top-10 coach and those Bengals lacked that.  But the rest fits: solid if aging roster (ala the later Dalton Bengals years), overpaid mediocre QB.  Yeah, I’m low on Cousins; IMO he’s a high-floor, low-ceiling type that gets overrated by analytics, the second coming of Matt Schaub.  He’s a solid choice if you want to win 10-12 games (maybe 13 now) and have a shot at the conference championships, but I’ll be very surprised if he ever wins a Super Bowl as a starter. The problem for the Vikes is that they’re in the NFC North and therefore their schedule sucks balls.

- Lions: They’re rebuilding and their schedule is one of the roughest in the NFL.  They might surprise someone early before the lack of talent really shows, IIRC I’ve heard about that happening once before with a Dan Campbell team, but this team is playing for a top-5 draft pick and they’re probably going to get it.

- Saints: Actually really hard for me to tell, mostly because I can’t tell how good the non-QB parts of the roster are this year relative to last.  They’ve lost a HoF quarterback, and while Jameis has seasoning and a possible QB whisperer now I suspect his ceiling is still a high variance high ceiling, low floor type in the Fitzpatrick mold (absolute peak might be Eli mk. II).  Payton is one of the better coaches in the NFL but finished 8-8 with Brees for multiple years.  That said, the Saints’ roster last year was better than it was in those years, especially on defense.  Question: is that still the same this year?  Don’t know; the Saints took non-Brees losses, but I’m not sure how much.  Peak is a true-talent wild card team if Jameis is above average and the rest of the roster is good; fail state is probably 6-7 wins by true talent.

- Buccaneers: Let’s be real, this boils down to a single question, the same one we’ve all been asking for over half a decade now: “is this the year Father Time finally comes for Tom Brady?”.  At this point I’ll believe it when I see it.  And even if yes they’re probably still a playoff team, because the rest of the Buccs roster is still the best in the division and the schedule gods once again blessed Tom Brady’s team with a weak slate of foes – the entire rest of the NFC South has issues, they get the NFC East, and by finishing second-place in the division last year the Buccs get Chicago, the Rams, and now the Colts as their SOS-dependent opponents.  The AFC East with the probable exception of the Jets will be tough (but even there the Buccs luck out – they rolled New England early, and even without a possible Mac Jones adjustment period even if he’s good the first month for the Belichick-era Patriots has often been an adjustment period as the team figures out what’s working and what isn’t) and the Rams should be as well (here the schedule gods frown, the Buccs rolled the Rams early – a lot of the Rams’ downside is injury-related volatility, drawing them early minimizes the chance of this happening prior to this game), but even then the Buccs don’t look severely disfavored in any game and everything else looks very winnable and would even if Brady declines to 2015!Peyton.

- Panthers: I’m not going to lie, I actually rather like the Darnold gamble in a vacuum.  If you’re betting on anyone in the NFL to pull another Tannehill he’s the one, because I’ve gotten the same vibe off him that I got off Tannehill on the Dolphins: possible tier-2 QB held back by coaching (and the same coach, no less).  The problem is, I think he might be better off as a backup behind a mediocre starter for a little while to regain confidence the same way Tannehill was, and instead he’s getting thrown straight into the fire again.  (Also, Fields was available, and Mac Jones too though I’m not sure the Panthers would have been a good place for him to develop.)  The rest of the roster is another QB-away team with a likely very solid defense, Christian McCaffrey, and IIRC an O-line that is at least decent.

- Falcons: Possible sleeper team.  The Falcons have one major advantage that people keep forgetting about: barring a major breakout from one of Jameis and The Darnold, they have at worst the second-best QB in the division, potentially even the best if Father Time gets Brady but not Ryan.  And that’s not damning with faint praise; at his peak I had him as the best Tier 2 quarterback and roughly sixth-best in the NFL overall, that MVP year was not a fluke. He’s just been saddled with bad coaching and bad rosters and been unable to overcome that, which I can’t blame him for given all those 8-8 years for the Brees/Payton Saints in the mid-2010s.  Good news: Dan Quinn is gone, and the schedule this year is soft (49ers game aside).  As I noted above there’s probably a wild card sloshing around for the NFC South and NFC East, and I would not be surprised in the slightest if the Falcons got it.

- Seahawks: … We know the book on the Seahawks by now, right? Top-5 quarterback in the NFL (and of the three I would take over Russ on the field itself, two are old enough for Father Time to be a real concern and the last is testing exactly how bad off-field issues have to be to make a Tier 1 quarterback unemployable in the NFL), average roster otherwise, coach who is average at worst.  That’s been a true-talent division contender for the last half-decade, and barring injury or locker room issues blowing up I see no reason why that would change this year.

- Rams: High variance, for a very specific reason.  The roster, as constructed, is a wild-card contender, or possibly more if Stafford really goes off.  The problem is that due to spending first-round draft picks like candy and not getting enough out of the later rounds to make up for it, this is (as noted above) very much a stars-and-scrubs roster.  And the thing about a stars-and-scrubs roster is that it’s vulnerable in a way that a roster with more depth isn’t; if a star gets injured, your team is facing a massive drop-off in performance.

- Cardinals: Honestly, unless Kliff hits one of his downsides (can’t adjust now that defenses figured out last year’s offense and/or loses the locker room) then by true talent this is probably a low-end wild-card contender at worst (~8 wins).  The problem is, in the NFC West that makes you the worst true-talent team in the division…

- 49ers: So, let’s just point out the obvious: last year was a case study in just how badly a possible true-talent Super Bowl contender has to get injured in order to get a top-10 pick. Admittedly part of that is that Jimmy G. sure seems to merit the injury-prone label at this point, which is why the 49ers traded up for another QB, but the rest of it is just extremely bad luck and that’s unlikely to persist year-to-year.  This is probably the best team in the NFC West, which is saying something.  (Unfortunately for them, Shanahan is in the Reid/Tomlin bucket and his weaknesses as a game coach make an actual Superb Owl an uphill climb.)

Bonus: Thoughts on the new QB class!

Trevor Lawrence: There’s obvious sample size issues, but quarterback prospects that highly rated haven’t busted in at least 30-40 years (Luck, Peyton, and Elway were all stars).  He’s probably gonna be good.

Zach Wilson: Man, I was all ready to write The Other Wilson off as another LOLJets bust after the draft and then he played well in preseason and Saleh actually looks like the first competent coach the Jets have hired in a while (which may still not help him keep his job because the AFC East is now nuts).  We’ll see if that holds during the regular season; among other things he has the misfortune of playing Belichick in week 2.

Trey Lance: So far looks to be talented as fuck and also raw as fuck.  Shanahan seems to be pretty good at developing quarterbacks?

Justin Fields: I’ve gotten future Tier 2 quarterback vibes off him ever since he was drafted; the problem is he’s on the Bears, with questionable coaching and at least this year what looks like a terrible O-line as well.  Possible next Stafford here?

Mac Jones: People don’t understand the probability curve here – the risk with Mac isn’t the ceiling, it’s the very good but not great outcomes.  He got a first-round draft grade despite  physical limitations, and he’s almost certainly not just being carried by his school – possibly even the opposite given the talent argument and Bama QBs’ track records.  To me, that says he’s a one-tool player whose tool is the mental tool.  And of all the QB tools that is by far the most important.  So, the question: does that tool play in the NFL?  If no, he’s probably a third-tier quarterback at best.  If yes?  Well, in that case there’s a very real chance he’s a Hall of Famer.

[youngster-monster]

The City v. Ahamkara

Prologue - Bloody and Raw

The way back is a blur. Cayde can’t tell if he’s moving through a dream or reality, if he’s moving or sitting still with the world flowing around him. It comes to him in disjointed snapshots, brief bursts of movement before everything freezes again like an old laggy monitor. Fire from the wreckage of the Prison; a gunshot; Petra’s voice, concerned, and his own, distant to his own ears, pantomiming humor even though he has no idea what words are leaving his mouth.

Through all of it the only tangible constant is a hand wrapped around his wrist. Razel, his brain supplies, insistent even as a part of him argues back, not quite. He thinks he can feel claws scratch lightly against the painted surface of his arm. It’s false, of course. He can’t feel input that sensitive usually and certainly not now, with half of his receptors shot to hell. Maybe his processor is making up for lost feedback with imagined ones. Not reality as much as what he expects reality to be like — new, and absurd, and scratchy like a bird perched on his arm and poking its tiny little bird-claws into the joint of his wrist to keep its balance.

Perhaps the pinprick of not-quite-pain is impossible but what isn’t, today?

He’s walking on his own two feet, although there’s a great deal more stumbling than walking involved: that’s one. He won’t call it a miracle but it’s a struggle to find a word that fits the impossible-made-possible just as well.

Sundance is dead. He forces himself to think the whole sentence, even though it hurts like a bitch in a deep part of himself he’d rather not look at. Better to have it hurt now than fester in the dark and poison him. He’s seen what that kind of grief does to guardians. There’s a good reason so few of them survive the initial loss of their Ghost. He never thought he would, himself: anything good enough to kill Sundance would surely get him, too.

But it didn’t. That’s another for the Impossible tally he’s keeping for himself.

Razel’s grip tightens slightly, protectively, as if he caught the tail-end of that thought. Here it is. The last item on the Impossible list, the one Cayde is even less keen to linger on. Sundance’s death is not an immediate, pressing matter. It’s done; there’s nothing else he can do but withstand it now. Whatever’s up with Razel is an ongoing issue and there’s nothing he wants more than to avoid thinking about it.

He’s unlikely to get any luck with that but a man can hope, yeah?

It takes an eternity to reach their ship, falling forward rather than walking until they’re in reach of a transmat and then wincing his way through the touch of an unfamiliar-familiar Ghost as Cubix transports them to the Queen of Hearts. The impact of his feet on the metal flooring makes a heavy, echoing sound. Razel doesn’t make one at all. He’s like a ghost himself, suddenly, taking twice as much space as usual with none of the flailing that should come with it.

That’s when it catches up to him in earnest — no more of that shell shocked avoidance shit. It must be something in the air, he muses, that settles too heavily on his mind until he buckles under it. Something about the quiet of his own ship, the distant sound of howling and crashing and chaos replaced with the gentle hum of an idle engine; something about the stars blinking cold and distant through the cockpit; something about the persistent rattling in his chest, where the universe twisted itself to fulfill Razel’s desire and still didn’t manage to fix the minutiae of his internal machinery. As if water-cooling is a concept beyond even paracausal miracles.

It’s all, suddenly, too much.

Cayde collapses into the pilot’s seat, clunking and creaking, all the air wheezing out of him like a sorry bagpipe. He feels his entire weight suddenly, every pound of metal and wires, in a way he can’t blame on the difference between the Coast and the artificial gravity aboard the ship. He feels his entire age, each and every single endless year of it, remembered or not. Fuck, but he’s too old for this.

And Razel still won’t stop touching him. Hasn’t ever since— ever since. Even now he has a hand on Cayde’s shoulder, fingertips tucked under the collar of his cloak to lay on the bare metal of his neck underneath.

It’s a comfort. It’s a threat. It makes Cayde’s skin crawl. He wants to jerk away from it. He wants to lean into it. He doesn’t know what he wants, or what he feels beyond confusion, exhaustion, and a bitter kind of relief — the exhausting feeling of having held a snake in your hands and trading the fear of being bitten for the venom.

He’s not used to feeling like that near Razel — one of his closest friends, someone he trusts.

“You okay?”

Stupidly, he expected Razel’s voice to sound different. It’s the same as always: a little higher-pitched than you’d expect, with that slight Awoken flanging to it. At least he’s always pinned the sound of it on Razel being an Awoken and, as such, a little bit weird, as is expected. Now he’s not so sure.

“I’m alive,” Cayde replies grimly. “Sundance is dead and my best friend—” he stumbles there, but what good is a Hunter who balks at a challenge? “Is a wish-granting space dragon in disguise, but I’m alive. Silver lining, right?”

Razel curls into himself, looking small and hurt. It’s hard to see the monster in him just then — even harder than before. He just looks like Razel, and Cayde hates seeing Razel like that — like he just got hit over the head and doesn’t know what to do about it.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice winding into a white at the end.

All the fight goes out of Cayde at once. It’s not guilt; not quite. He’s too drained for guilt. But it’s a little bit close to it.

He lifts a hand and lets it fall heavily on Razel’s head, ruffling his hair. “You did what you could, buddy.”

The frown he gets in return is fierce, but no fiercer than seems normal for Razel. He’s quick to anger and even quicker to forget about it, and as dramatic as his moods may be they’re rarely destructive. At least not for the right people. Cabal are all out of luck on that front. Still there’s something in his eyes — a wild, unnatural sharpness to the familiar orange-gold glow that makes a previously unknown animal instinct in Cayde raise its hackles. Whatever happened in the Prison, whatever bolt broke open to release the creature hidden under his features, there’s no locking it back up.

It suits him, though. Perhaps it’s always been there, lurking under the surface, showing glimpses of itself through Razel’s weirdest habits. Perhaps Razel isn’t that different now from a day ago; there’s comfort in that.

After all, he broke open reality to save Cayde. That must mean something, right?

“I didn’t,” Razel says mulishly. “There has to be something more I could have done. I mean—”

He never finishes that sentence. Not that Cayde needs him to. He’s seen what Razel did do. There’s still blood flaking on his fingertips from when he wiped it off Razel’s face; there’s still a dent in his chest where a hit that crumpled his chest like a soda can should have killed him and didn’t. What else might an Ahamkara do if given the chance?

There, he said it. The damning word. It’s not as if there’s a point pussy-footing around it anymore.

“You did what you could,” Cayde repeats, giving Razel another headache-inducing pat from his half-numb arm. “And a damn sight better than what anybody else could have done for me in that situation, lemme tell you. You’re not a miracle worker.”

“Aren’t I?”

“Well— okay, maybe you are. But you’re about as qualified as I am to grant wishes, so no one’s about to blame you for botching it somewhat.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, and he catches Razel’s wince in the corner of his eyes, but that goes ignored as another matter occurs to Cayde.

They might not blame Razel for the botched resurrection — knowing what they do of the limit of Ahamkara abilities, and that’s very little, it’s hard to tell whether or not he could have done more. But they will blame him for everything else. Not the near death experience, no. But being an Ahamkara? Hiding it from the City, the Vanguard, even unknowingly? It would be a crime, if any of them had known it was possible enough to make a law punishing it. It will be a crime once they catch wind of it.

And Cayde is thoroughly weirded out by the whole thing, but he’s not about to let his best friend get locked up for having saved his life.

“I have a few questions,” he says, although he’s not sure he truly wants them answered. Unfortunately there won’t be another time for it. “But once we’re home— not a word of it. Capische?”

Razel nods hard enough to dislocate a vertebrae.

Satisfied, Cayde punches in the code for manual piloting and sets the ship on course for the City. They’ve got this.

-

It occurs to Cayde that they have not got this when Ikora comes knocking at their door two days later at five a.m.

At any other hour it would be nothing out of the usual. He likes to think they’re friends, the two of them, and although it’s usually Vanguard business that brings her to their front step she’s always welcome to drop by unnanounced. He’s been expecting her, anyway.

When Razel and him crawled back to the Tower, dirty and exhausted and shell shocked, she was there to greet them. She was the first one to see Cayde’s sorry state, to ask — in a reassuringly familiar kind but straight to the point manner — what had happened. She’s the one who told him to take a leave, before Zavala even got there to order him the same. It was only a matter of days before she came by to see how he’s doing and kick him out of any self-pitying hole he might have dug for himself in the meantime.

But that’s a visit one makes during the day, or in the evening when she manages to claw back some free time from her mercilessly tight schedule. Nothing good ever comes from a five a.m visit.

Cayde opens the door in his pjs, bare feet against the cold floorboard, to Ikora and a Guardian in full armor he doesn’t recognize. They’re holding a rifle against their chest, in that kind of parade rest that Titans naturally adopt when they’ve been told they won’t have to use it and they don’t entirely believe it.

He fell asleep not two hours ago, but any bleariness remaining from his dramatically shortened night disappears at that sight.

“Mornin’,” he says, hand clenching around the door. He could slam it in their face, but the grim set of Ikora’s mouth tells him they’re far beyond that point. He shouldn’t even have opened it.

Her voice, when she speaks up, is that of the Warlock Vanguard — all business.

“Holliday sent me your records.”

Blinking, Cayde tries to connect that information to the current situation. Holliday, the shipwright. Holliday who’s been working on fixing the Queen of Hearts with a fervor that suggests it’s the only thing she knows how to fix in this damned situation. Holliday—

Who would have had to access the ship’s records to know exactly what to fix. The kind of records that include any and all audio captured aboard in the last few days.

“Fuck,” he says plainly.

She gives him a compassionate look that only makes him feel bad, until it darts up — towards the rest of the apartment — and then he feels worse. The Titan’s grip tightens on their rifle. The faint creaking of their gloves is the only sound for a good long while.

Slowly so as to not startle them into action, Cayde turns his head to look behind his shoulder. Razel has frozen in place next to the couch, holding Admiral in his arms. The cat jumps out of his grasp and pads towards Cayde, rubbing against his legs. Razel just stands there, licking his lips as if wondering if he still has time to bolt back inside their room.

“Is everything okay?” He asks eventually. He looks directly at Ikora when he says it — always does, when he’s not sure what’s going on. She’s his Vanguard; his lighthouse.

“Razel,” she says. It’s not a greeting. It’s the beginning of a longer sentence — of something worse. “You stand accused of treason, perjury, and crimes against the City at large. You will be put into Vanguard custody and judged in a court of law. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court—”

The rest turns into senseless muttering as electrical buzzing overtakes Cayde’s ears — the sound of some Light-forsaken processor going into overdrive in an effort to keep him from hyperventilating. The Titan shoulders their way past him, marches to a still immobile Razel and snaps a set of handcuffs around his wrists. There’s a burst of light as they close; Cubix materializes next to him, the first Cayde has seen of him since they left the Shattered Coast. He’s been keeping his distance to make it easier on him, Cayde thinks dumbly, that small, idiotic kindness the only thing he can focus on at the moment.

Cubix’s voice has gone shrill with worry. “You can’t do this! Ikora—”

She shakes her head, her face set in a stern expression to cover any deeper feeling she may harbor. She’s a professional; Cayde doesn’t have it in himself to admire that, right now. “I’m sorry,” she says. “Cubix, I’ll have to ask you to come with me. Alone.”

Reluctantly, he does, flying up to her. The Titan pulls Razel aside as he floats past, and they put themselves between him and Cayde when they march him past. As if they’re afraid allowing him to touch either of them would make him explode out of his restraints somehow. As it is, he remains meek as anything as he shuffles after them. It’s an incredible sight: Razel with his hair down and messy like a bird’s nest from an uneasy sleep, dressed in nothing more than a shirt — Cayde’s — his underwear — pink — and a single sock — it has a hole at the big toe — being led away in handcuffs by a Titan twice as large as he is who keeps a tight grip on his arm as if he’s liable to eat them.

But he doesn’t, and the door closes on them with a soft click and one last apologetic look from Ikora. Cayde is left behind, in a dark apartment, empty save for himself and the loud meowing of his cat in the kitchen and the gnawing impression that none of this would have happened if he wasn’t such a gigantic idiot.

Somewhere, the sun rises.

He doesn’t see it.

[Read ch. 2 on AO3]

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Forty Eight

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

March 11th, 1995

Emile was exhausted. Maybe staying up all night at the sleepover wasn’t a good idea. He had been talking to his friends, and his friends kept laughing when he tried to say something and his words got tangled. He was so tired that he could barely speak straight.

The worst part, though, had to be that he had lost his filter around three in the morning and everyone was suddenly asking him personal questions, that he didn’t know how to answer. After all, how did you tell a bunch of teenage boys that you were bisexual? How did you explain that you were a bit shy around the topic of sex and a virgin? Certainly not easily.

Emile inwardly grumbled and waited for his parents to come pick him up. He just wanted to sleep at this point. Maybe he’d get his filter back and he could avoid more awkward questions come later.

  November 12th, 2001

Emile sat in the back behind the stage, catching his breath. He had to do a lot of moving around the stage even if he didn’t have a lot of speaking lines in the play. So when all was said and done, and his one performance that he was called upon for occurred, he was so breathless and his nerves were so shot that he nearly passed out the second he got backstage.

When his ears finally stopped ringing and he felt like he might be able to stand without throwing up, he saw a familiar hand enter his field of vision. He looked up and saw Remy standing there, a smile on his face. “The play’s over, mio amore. You did wonderfully, but I want to take you home now, if that’s all right?”

“Yeah,” Emile breathed, standing up shakily. “I don’t think I’m made for theatre, Rem.”

“Maybe not,” Remy allowed. “Or maybe you’re just not the acting type. There’s more than one way to participate in a theatre performance, mio amore.”

“You keep calling me your love a lot more frequently recently,” Emile said, eyebrows furrowing. “You okay?”

Remy turned a light pink. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he said. “I’m fine.”

“So there’s no reason that you’ve suddenly been a lot more loving?” Emile asked. “I’m not complaining, I’m just confused.”

Remy shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

“You’re lying, Rem,” Emile said softly.

Remy flinched. “I know. But I don’t know how to describe it properly.”

Emile squeezed Remy’s hand and they moved out of the theatre. “Can you try?” Emile asked. “Because I’m starting to worry that you’re dying.”

“I’m not dying. Not to my knowledge, at any rate,” Remy said, scratching the back of his neck. “I...just...want to make sure you know. That I love you, I mean.”

“Rem, I know that even if you never say it,” Emile murmured softly. “Do you think that I doubt that?”

“Nn...no. No, I don’t think you doubt it. But like...for a while, we were just...loving, all the time, and nothing could stop us from loving each other. Now, though....now, I don’t know. It feels different.” Remy shook his head. “I really don’t know how to explain it.”

“The honeymoon phase is fading,” Emile filled in. “You’re used to there being big declarations of love, and happiness all the time, and everything looking and feeling great, with no downsides. Or if there are downsides, they’re easily solvable. But now...time continues to pass, right? And the declarations seem fewer, and the problems seem bigger. And the relationship is, in general, weird.”

Remy turned a darker pink and looked away. “Why do you always have to hit the nail on the head?” he complained.

“Because psychology is a lot more than head-shrinking,” Emile said with a grin. As the grin faded into a more serious expression, he continued. “Honey, you don’t have to recreate the honeymoon phase. Firstly because it’s near impossible to do, and secondly because we still love each other. I love you, no matter what problems happen. It hurts like hell when we hit a bump in the road, but we’ve made it through the bumps before, and we can do it again. And you’ve shown that you love me. Even when trying to do the impossible, you put your all into it, because you believe it will make me happy, and in turn also make you happy.

“Fact is, though, Rem, that no one can be happy all the time. We’re going to have low days where a simple word can’t cheer us up. We’re going to have days where we can barely stand to look at each other, for whatever reason. The honeymoon phase isn’t coming back. But that’s okay, because what happens after the honeymoon phase is deeper, and so much better. Because when we hit the downsides, we’ll have each other to lean on and get through them. I don’t doubt that we’ll have our fights. I don’t doubt that there will be days where we wonder if getting serious, and staying together was the right move. But I also don’t doubt that we can work our way through that, and love each other no matter what.”

Remy looked at him for a long moment, before he huffed and crossed his arms with a smile. “You’re annoying when you’re right.”

Emile grinned and kissed Remy lightly. “So are you going to stop trying to bring the honeymoon phase back? You can say you love me, still, and I don’t mind the pet names, but I want you to mean them, too.”

“I always mean them,” Remy said, frowning.

“Poor word choice,” Emile corrected himself, “I don’t want you to constantly remind yourself that you have to say you love me, call me pet names, or anything like that. I prefer when you say it because I did something cute in your eyes, or because we’re both tired and vulnerable and want to sit on the couch together and cry over one of my cartoons. Rather than it just being something you say as a tacked-on ending to a phone call, or say to try and bring back something that won’t be able to return. That’s not to say I don’t love it when you call me pet names or say you love me, it’s to say that not doing all of that all the time is healthy, and expected in any relationship.”

“Oh,” Remy said simply. “That makes sense, actually. I guess I can try to let it go, but that doesn’t mean I won’t worry that the spark is dying occasionally.”

“Hey, if you’re worried about it that’s a good thing. Because you want it to stay. And so do I,” Emile said, putting a hand on Remy’s shoulder as he nearly collapsed onto the asphalt. “I need to go home.”

“Yeah, you look like you’re about to pass out still,” Remy said. He paused in walking, grabbing Emile under the armpits and knees and picked him up bridal style.

Emile made an eep noise in response. “Was that really necessary?”

“Oh yeah,” Remy said with a laugh. “Can’t have you passing out on the way to the car, Emile. I’ll drive us home, sound good?”

Emile grumbled. “I could have handled myself,” he groused.

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say, honey,” Remy laughed. “Come on, it has to be nice to have someone to care for you.”

“I mean, sometimes, yeah,” Emile said. “But not all the time.”

“Honey, the last time I helped you was with a juice cap two weeks ago. I do not help you ‘all the time,’” Remy retorted.

“I could have gotten the juice cap on my own!” Emile protested.

“With the rubber gripper is not ‘on your own’!”

Emile groaned and let his head loll backwards towards the ground. “You are. The worst.”

Remy just laughed. He squawked, however, when Emile started to tickle him. “Honey, I’m going to drop you! Stop!”

Emile giggled but let his hands drop, and he sighed. “That was not smart. I don’t have any energy left now.”

Remy snorted and carried Emile to the car. When he put Emile’s feet on the ground, though, he swayed and his legs buckled. “Woah!” Remy exclaimed, putting steadying hands on Emile’s shoulders. “Honey, no more theatre for you, okay? Not as an actor, at least. Not if you’re this close to passing out and getting hurt.”

Emile groaned and nodded. “I wasn’t sure I was cut out for the actual stage...and I was right.”

Remy laughed as he opened the passenger side door of the car and helped Emile in. “Can you strap yourself in, or are you too shaky?”

Emile sluggishly strapped himself in and gave Remy a thumbs-up. Remy shut the car door, got in the driver’s side, and started the ride home. “You know, I’m glad you put me on the title of the car,” Remy said. “Because now when you do stupid stuff that makes you almost pass out, I’m able to drive you home, or to the hospital if you’re really hurt.”

Emile just grunted, draping an arm over his eyes as he leaned back in his seat.

“Oh, honey, you are so out of it,” Remy laughed. “You really shouldn’t push yourself this hard, you know. We have Thanksgiving and then you’ll have finals before you know it.”

Emile whined, “Don’t remind me.”

Remy just shrugged and offered Emile a smile when he let his arm drop. “Hey, tell you what, though,” Remy said. “When we get back home we can cuddle all you want. That was an amazing performance.”

Emile offered Remy a weak grin. They got back to the apartment, and Emile felt slightly guilty that Remy had to help him out of the car, into the building, and up the stairs to their apartment.

They got to Emile’s room and he managed to toe off his shoes and collapse onto the bed with a groan. “Cuddles?” he asked into the blankets.

“Sure,” Remy agreed, climbing into Emile’s bed and pulling him close.

Emile hummed and buried his head in Remy’s chest. He wanted to take in everything about this moment: the way Remy smelled, like that cologne he was trying and slight sweat from the heat of the theatre. The way that he could hear Remy’s heart beating in his chest, and how it slowed Emile’s own heartbeat. The way that Remy would sigh into his hair and pull him a little closer, until they were pressed up against each other. Emile lazily put an arm on Remy’s shoulder and used his thumb to stroke Remy’s shoulder.

Eyes growing heavy, Emile just continued to savor the moment, the quiet sound of traffic outside and the ache of his bones, but the warmth of another body right next to him, willing to love him until the end of time. The darkness of the room, with only light from the kitchen moving in through a sliver of the door.

Remy took Emile’s glasses off and Emile blinked owlishly up at Remy. “Wha’ was tha’ for?” Emile asked, words slurring together.

“I thought you were asleep, honey,” Remy said. “And we can’t have you breaking your glasses.”

Emile nodded, burying his head in Remy’s chest again and sighing.

The silence stretched between them, before Remy shifted and Emile frowned, eyes squeezing shut tight as he whined and grabbed onto Remy’s shirt. “Emile,” Remy said. “Emile, I have to go to bed.”

“Here is a bed,” Emile said, weakly patting the mattress.

“Here is your bed,” Remy replied. “My bed’s in the other room.”

“Want you to stay,” Emile mumbled.

Remy blinked. “Why?” he asked.

Emile looked up at him blearily, and said, “‘Cause I love you,” like it was obvious. Because it was obvious, wasn’t it?

“Yeah, you love me all the time, but you never insist that I stay with you through the night,” Remy said. “Why tonight?”

“I want comfort,” Emile said. His filter was leaving fast, as was most of his waking thought process. “I want to feel safe with you. I want to...to...know that you love me through more than words. I love your words, but I want to use more than just words. I wanna cuddle and show that I love you, and want you to love me back.”

Remy ran a hand through Emile’s hair, murmuring, “It’s okay, I can stay, but you know I love you so much anyway, right?”

Emile mumbled, “I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you and your love,” he said. “I’ve done so many things wrong about us, and you, and everything...and I don’t deserve the chances you’ve given me.” Tears were in his eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“I don’t deserve you, either,” Remy said. “You’re smart, and kind, and incredibly cute, and I could see myself spending the rest of my life with you, which is terrifying. I...I love you, Emile. Just...just rest, okay?”

“Mmm...‘kay,” Emile mumbled, quickly falling asleep.