#so many of these bingo prompt fills are gonna be short enough to do this with them

[vivitalks]

like a burst of technicolor in a world of black and white

for the prompt "painting nails" on my @jasico-challenges bingo card. guys i am really having fun with this bingo thing have yall heard about this. this shit rules anyway imagine an AU where trials of apollo is a collective hallucination we all experienced and then decided never to speak of again. and instead jason stayed at CHB after the showdown w gaea. okay you are now prepared for the events of this fic xoxo

title from extraordinary magic by ben rector :) read here on ao3

“How come you didn't go to school?”

Fair question, but pretty random.

They're spread out on the floor of Cabin One. When Nico marched in armed with a bottle of nail polish the color of a cloudless sky and insisted on painting Jason's nails, Jason tossed his sketchbook aside. Any activity with Nico is better than drawing shrines alone. 

Nico got to work and they descended into easy silence. Jason figured that was for Nico's focus, so he didn't break it, just allowed his mind to wander aimlessly.

When he tunes back in at Nico's inquiry, he sees two nails painted — left index and middle, coated in light blue. Jason has never had his nails painted. He doesn't know if it's always this soothing, but if it is, he can understand why so many people do it.

“You mean instead of staying at camp year-round?”

Nico nods and takes the brush to Jason's next finger. His face of concentration is extremely cute: narrowed eyes, teeth digging into his lower lip, one rebellious strand of dark hair he keeps blowing out of his face only for it to fall right back in his eyes.

“You could have,” he says. “You’d only have two years before graduation. Could get a diploma.”

Jason shrugs. “Yeah, but why would I? It’s not like I was getting a formal education before. Praetor was a year-round job.”

Nico hums. He's really very good at this. If the demigod thing doesn't pan out, he has a future as a manicurist.

“Plus,” Jason adds gamely, “I don't exactly have a parent or guardian to enroll me anywhere.”

“I'm sure Chiron would be more than happy to falsify some legal documents.”

Jason chuckles. “You think so?”

“Are you kidding?” Nico snorts. “Percy told me Chiron posed as his Latin teacher for a full year when he was younger. He would love to invent a transcript for you.”

Jason gives this a dismissive laugh so they can put the topic to rest. He thought about trying to go to school, for sure. He spent about six minutes seriously considering it. I could have some normalcy, he'd mused. Be a high school kid. Sure, I don't have any surviving mortal parents, or anywhere to live during the school year, or any money, or any previous course credits, or any documents to prove I'm a real person, but. Those are solvable problems.

Then he’d thought, Or I could stay at camp, and the decision made itself.

Maybe it's bleak to say, but there's nothing for him out there. In the real world. He has no memory of being a baby living with Thalia and his mother, and after that, his whole life was the legion. Training with Lupa was the closest thing Jason had to elementary school. Everything that matters to him — his friends, his family, his sworn duty to the minor gods — starts and ends in camp. His youth is tattooed with the brand of Camp Jupiter. His freedom is a leather necklace tied by Camp Half-Blood.

Why leave?

“I'm good here,” is all he says.

Nico isn't ready to drop it. “But then why stay here? You didn't want to go back to Camp Jupiter?”

Jason raises both eyebrows. “Did you want me to?”

“No!” Nico scowls. “I'm just curious.”

Methodical brush strokes turn Jason's fourth fingernail blue. It's a pretty color; Jason wonders what inspired Nico to choose it. It's probably not Nico's first time painting someone's nails, because he's very skillfully managing not to get any polish on Jason's skin. He has good hands for the job — thin and precise. Careful. Deliberate.

“The plan was really to split my time,” Jason says, just as careful, just as deliberate. “I was already at Camp Half-Blood, so I figured I'd spend a little while here, then a while at Camp Jupiter, and, you know, so on.”

“But…it's been two months,” Nico says.

The unspoken question: why haven't you gone back yet?

“Well, yeah,” Jason says. His own stillness is becoming uncomfortable. If he moves, he risks ruining Nico's artwork, but sitting this stationary isn't in his nature. Like most demigods, he has a compulsion to fidget. It's less noticeable in him — less than, say, Leo — but in moments of extreme stagnancy, it doubles down.

“Are you planning to go back at all?”

It's not an interrogation. At least, Jason doesn't think so. It's not small talk, either. Nico is his friend. This is a friendly conversation. There are no wrong answers here.

“Eventually,” Jason says. “To visit. But…to stay?” He shakes his head. “I don't think so.”

“All your friends are there,” Nico says, and he's still looking down, focused on his task, like this statement is a reflex, requiring no thought.

“Not all,” Jason says, watching him. “You're here.”

That gets Nico’s attention. He looks up. “Me?”

“You're my friend,” Jason says.

“Don't tell me you stayed here just for me.” It comes out like a bad joke. Like it couldn't possibly be true.

“Well…” Jason pauses. “I don't know if that's the only reason, but it definitely helped.”

“What? Are you joking?”

“Why would I be joking?”

“Because that's—” Nico stops halfway through painting Jason’s little finger. He gestures like words aren't enough. “That's crazy!”

“You just said I should go to Camp Jupiter because my friends are there,” Jason says, puzzled. “Why is it crazy to stay at Camp Half-Blood for the same reason?”

“I’m one person. Friend, singular. Meanwhile your entire cohort of friends is over in California.”

“Yeah, but…” Jason gnaws his cheek. He has this suspicion Nico won't like any of his answers, then decides he doesn't care. “They don't need me over there. I gave my praetorship to Frank, so I'm officially released from leadership duty, and I don't regret it for a second. It makes no difference to the legion if I'm there or not, except as this— I don't know, symbol of greatness that I…really am not.” He grimaces, examining his semi-painted pinky nail, this half-finished, imperfect thing. “Here, I feel like…maybe it matters if I'm here or not. And not because of who my dad is or my rank or anything, just because…well, we're friends.”

Nico stares. Then he lifts Jason's hand and starts painting again, picking up where he left off. With his gaze trained downward, away from Jason's, he says, “It does matter. To me.”

Jason smiles. He gets the same feeling as stepping outside in the morning into perfect weather — pleasantly, comfortably surprised.

“There you go, then,” he says. “I mean, if you want me to leave—”

“No,” Nico says quickly, then glares as if he's mad about being tricked into admitting he wants Jason to stay. Recovering, he snarks, “If you leave, I won’t have anyone to subject to my nail-polish schemes.”

“I bet Will would let you paint his nails.”

“Will wouldn't let me anywhere near him with any kind of artistic implement, as well he shouldn’t. I would absolutely deface him.”

“Honored that you've elected not to deface me.”

Nico turns a rosy shade of pink. “This time.”

This is that other kind of Nico threat, the kind reserved for friends. For Jason. The kind that, underneath, isn't a threat at all, but a promise.

This time means there will be a next time. That's Jason's favorite kind of threat.

“You're weirdly good at this,” Jason says. Nico has finished his left hand by now and moved on to the right. “Since when is this in your skill set?”

“Bianca,” Nico says. Matter-of-fact, without room to grieve. “A couple nights when we were in the Lotus Hotel, she asked me to paint hers. First time I tried, it was such a mess. She did mine to show me how, so I could learn.”

Jason catches his breath. “Clearly it paid off, ‘cause you're killing it.”

This was something Nico did with Bianca. And now he's sharing it with Jason. That gives Jason a feeling in his gut that's both warm and heavy, like a big dog is curled up in there, taking a sunbeam nap.

“You'll have to do mine after,” Nico says, still no-nonsense. “Black, obviously.”

“I don't have any nail polish.”

“I brought some. Lacy gave it to me. From Cabin Ten. Magical, so it doesn't smudge or chip.”

“I didn't even realize nail polish did that.”

“You have a lot to learn.” Nico nods sagely. “That's okay. Everyone starts somewhere.”

“It is very relaxing. I can see the appeal,” Jason admits. He wiggles the fingers of his finished hand, admiring them. “How’d you land on this color, though? Or was it just a random pick?”

 Nico looks strangely at Jason. Some of that blush from earlier returns. “You're…the son of the sky god.”

Jason studies the color. It's not quite sky blue, but close enough. “Huh,” he says, feeling silly for not having made the connection. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“Besides,” Nico says, a little quieter like it's not exactly for Jason to hear, but not not for him to hear, either, “it's the color of your eyes.”

That sleeping dog behind Jason's navel starts thumping its tail.

“Oh,” Jason says. He's not sure he could confirm that, but Nico sounds utterly certain. The fact that Nico has spent enough time looking at Jason's eyes that he can pinpoint their exact shade is its own can of worms. For future opening. At a later date. “Well, I like it. It's pretty.”

“Yeah,” Nico says, and his fingers press gently into Jason's palm as he continues to paint. “It is.”

[faithfulcat111]

Stonathan Sundays

Hey guys! I’m picking Stonathan Sundays back up again because, honestly, the Stonathan Week mods had created so many amazing prompts and I can’t just not use them. We got lots of time until next year’s event (or maybe an additional short one inbetween, I’d be down), so I’ll be doing my best to continue writing little ficlets with the rest of their prompts and more if people wanna submit any. This one also fills the final square on my July Break Bingo, so double-win for everyone. Ficlet and completed card is gonna be under the cut. Enjoy!

@julybreakbingo​ Fills Square: “Bite Me.”

Fandom: Stranger Things

Ship: Jonathan x Steve

Word Count: 362 Words

"You didn't have to walk me home."

"Bite me," Steve sighed, throwing his head back. "No, sorry. I didn't mean that."

Jonathan bit his lip, looking up at the boy walking along the worn road beside him. He couldn't very well say that he was definitely more than willing if Steve wanted it. That was the sort of thing that got you in a lot of trouble in a small town like Hawkins. And he had enough people thinking that of him, no one needed the confirmation. "I'm just saying, it isn't something you have to do. I can make my way home just fine."

"We fought a monster in these woods, Byers," Steve was eyeballing the trees as if they contained some form of threat despite it being six months with nothing and mid-afternoon at that. "Forgive me if I want to make sure one doesn't come out of them again."

Jonathan didn't understand. Just six months ago he was constantly being harrassed by the gang of kids constantly surrounding Steve, alone outside of his mom and little brother. Now he had Steve. He had Nancy. He had nightmares and knowledge about horrors that he wished he had never encountered. He still had his family, but his brother had been quiet since everything and his mom had started seeing some new guy. He guessed it only made sense that he would latch onto the first people willing to talk to him. But what he felt churning around inside of him was different from what he felt for his family or Nancy. It was like...

"Hey," Jonathan flinched at Steve's voice cutting through his swirling thoughts just before he could completely spiral. He had made a habit of it the last month or so. "What do you think that is?"

Jonathan followed where Steve was pointing, anxiety instantly seeping out of his bones as he spotted a bright red bird sitting on a tree branch just ahead of them. "A cardinal, I think," he answered. Steve started up again and Jonathan let his voice wash over him, the sound better than the cardinal's chirps as it took off into the spring air.

[clowdybear]

ㅡ It's Bingo day of Cherub!

First. Actually there are so many in my head if we talk about this, but for me there are some CupidMess' fellas who haven't talked each other with me. Lemme mention those who I considerate the most after we meet on the CupidsMess. There are Kihyun oppa, Winter eonni, Jeno oppa, Yena eonni, Father Sen, Zzioung eonni, Chaeryeong eonni, Karina eonni, Hanni, Jennie eonni, Ryujin eonni and Nayoung eonni. Those people are mostly having a conversation with me, so I feel so comfortable with them. I just wanna let you know that I'm really grateful for meeting with you. I hope we can be a good friend until thenn<3

Second. Gonna let the world know that me myself also own the pink color hihihi... However, this is from a long time ago, anyway, but I still find it amazing how I can suit with the pink. Should I add pink color on my favorite list color?!

Third. Hello my fellow Cherub! I'm so happy to know and meet with you guys, this is something unexpected to have a family and friend like you. I am wanting to have a talk or short conversation with you, 'cause I think, what's the point if we are on the same roof but never have a talk each other. So, I hope the chance really come to me, so I can jump right up to talk with you.

Fourth. Hello cupids, mom Elle and mom Lily! Thank you so much for accepting me, and provide me a safe place like Cupid place. You really did well until right now, and I also love you so much. If I allow to make a wish, please held some games for members, so we can blend and solid each other. I really wanting the games well heheheng.

Five. Dear, me! thank you so much for trying and hard working for everything you need to reach out. Please, do hear me now, if you get tired lets get some rest and treat you with something sweet you deserve, such an ice cream. I know you love ice cream that much, right? Go get them and lets have enough rest. If your energy is full enough, lets start again to do the best to reach your dream. Also, do not forget to thank yourself every night before going to your bed, 'cause I know, you really did well to handle everything by your own hand. Good luck!

Six. #Prompt: A finest day with me on valentine!

The clock ticking right on 4.00 pm, there, she did an on-time like usual at the place who she really wanna visit the most; amusement park. The scream of happiness inside her, probably wanna explode. She stays still, and looking around how every soul wraps with the smile and happiness, make her unrealize how the one and only of her lover stay there in a minute to look at how precious the girl is.

Their eyes meet, the time is stopping. By looking at it, everyone will know why the boy in front of her right now is her universe. "Lucky to meet you!"ㅡ They both said it while looking at each other. The happiness is still around, they are ready to collect the stars today, the stars which contain of smile, laugh, and joy.

The hand hold each other, today marks as the finest day for them. As a result, they find so many stars which consist of a happiness; a happiness jar that filled with the joy of notes, quotes, and memories that bring smiles and grateful to the person who owns itㅡ "Now, the life feels easier to live."

[boom-bakugou]

Cockwarming Scenarios

A/N: This is for my @bnhabookclub bingo card where I had the prompt ‘Cockwarming!’ enjoy sinners (:<

Pairings: Bakugo x Reader, Kirishima x Reader, Sero x Reader, Dabi x Reader, Hawks x Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, cockwarming, (also breeding kink and dumbification in hawks’ whoops sorry)

masterlist

-Bakugou normally isn’t one to instigate cockwarming

-It’ll normally be when you’re needy and he’s doing something like paperwork for his hero agency and isn’t saying much but you can tell he’s tired and won’t exactly want to fool around

-But as soon as he realises how wet you are and how much you’re begging for him to touch you he can’t say no to his pretty baby all riled up

“Just come sit here for one second you shitty woman.” He grumbles, pushing his desk chair back ever so slightly after your insistent whining for him to pay attention to you.

He turns the spinning chair to you, his lap open wide and ready for you to sit on to which you happily oblige, sitting your butt down on his crotch for him to just grab your waist tightly.

“Not like that.” Within a brief spin you’re sitting with your chest to his, legs straddling his own as he tucks his chair back under the desk.

“Katsu- come on please.” You whimper, grinding your sopping core against his jeans where you can feel his cock hardening beneath you. With a short ‘hrmph’ you feel his hands slip between the two of you so he can pull his cock out in the open. You grind yourself on his thigh for a few moments as he fists his member at the feeling of you against him.

“Come on then needy girl, slide on my cock.” The smirk on his face is devilish and you slide down your panties from beneath your oversized shirt (which was one of his, just so you could tease him further. You knew how much he loved you in his shirts).

Moaning slowly as you move down his cock for the stimulation of feeling full, you begin to buck your hips against his once you’re down to his hilt- before he grabs your waist tightly; enough to leave spots of bruises.

“Now sit there and be a good fuckin’ girl.” He slides his arms past you, looking over your shoulder as he tries to continue his work despite the feeling of your fleshy walls around him almost made him want to fuck your brains out on his desk right then and there.

“You can’t do this.” You snivel into his shoulder, every small movement you made to try and get yourself off effortless against his iron grip on your side.

“Well baby, good girls don’t beg unless told to.” He makes his point by pulling you up ever so slightly and thrusting into you with a force that makes you crackle out a moan. “And even good-er girls do what they’re fuckin’ told, you got that shitty woman?”

“Yes sir.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Now be quiet or you’re gonna’ regret it princess.”

-Kirishima after sex loves to cockwarm you

-He’s just so tired and loves the warm feeling of being inside you and it makes after sex cuddles just more intimate

“Where do you want me to cum sweetheart? Fuck you’re so fucking tight baby girl.” Kirishima croaks out into your ear, riding out the rest of your orgasm as he chased his.

“M’inside of me Eiji.” You practically drool at the feeling of him convulsing inside of you, gripping onto his flattened hair practically setting him off edge at the stimulation.

After catching his breath, Kirishima’s arms wobble around you from keeping himself pried up above you. You can feel the hot spurts of cum dribble from inside of you and as Kirishima is fully finished, he pulls you against him as he lies down with his cock still firmly inside of you.

“Kiri-“ You whine at the feeling of being so full. You don’t know how much you can take after having so many orgasms pulled out of you. Your clit was so overstimulated and your body was shaking from it but Kirishima held you tightly enough for it to simmer down.

“Come on baby just 5 more minutes.” His mumbles were so sleepy, it was probably going to be way more than 5 minutes. “You just feel so nice around me, like you were made for me princess.”

He presses kisses all over your face, making sure not to miss a single inch before you settled snugly into his chest.

“So beautiful.” Kirishima whispers, moving his hips ever so slightly to nestle into you further. “My fucking beautiful girl huh?”

His toothy grin is enough to make you giggle, his hands slide down your sweat covered bodies to grab your ass tightly. The action makes him twitch inside of you slightly and you gasp at the sudden explicitness of his actions.

“You sure you couldn’t go for a round two baby?”

“I… wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

-Sero loves sleepy cockwarming

-he’s too tired in the morning to fuck you but you’re both hot and bothered but neither of you fully want to be athletic so early; this is your compromise

“Whatchu doing sweetness?” Sero blinks a couple times as you palm him through his boxers, a sleepy grin on your face. “What? You want me inside of you baby?”

You nod slowly, the tiredness in your eyes making your blinks last longer but down below you felt like you could melt. All you wanted was for him to be inside of you so badly.

“C’mere then love.” His morning voice is so croaky as you slide up his torso. He flips you so you’re lying next to him, one leg draped over his waist as he shuffles your pyjamas down your legs before following suit with his own boxers. He pushes his fingers against your folds, gathering slick before teasing against your entrance which makes you buck your hips into his palm.

“So needy aren’t we?” Sero smirks to then press a kiss onto your forehead. He rests his hands to your lower back as he pulls your hips closer to his before slowly sliding himself into you before completely bottoming out “Shit- you’re so warm.”

You happily hum at the feeling of him inside you, the pressure making you roll your hips slightly against him which allowed his cock to move into you more comfortably; in turn hitting your g-spot nicely.

The two of you spent a few more moments lazily grinding against one another before the two of you lost interest in getting each other off and more about you both being so close and whole with one another.

“D’ya want me to pull out of you pretty girl?” Sero slightly cleared his throat to get rid of it’s morning rasp, just as he began to pull away you placed your hand on his shoulder to stop him from moving any further. You curled closer into his chest, letting his arms wrap around you to nestle in together.

“Leave it.” You mumble against his bare chest, barely enough for him to hear you but he easily picked it up due to the proximity of you both. “S’Keepin us warm.”

“Okay pretty girl.” Sero plants a kiss to your hair line, feigning back a yawn. “I’ll keep you warm.”

-DABI ooft that man will use it as a punishment baby

-this is one of his more tame punishments because he can get sadistic, it just depends on how mouthy you’ve been with him that day

“You little slut.” Dabi hisses through his teeth, a warm spank against your ass acting as the punctuation of his words. You’d forgotten how many you’d received but you couldn’t say it wasn’t making you feel so fucking turned on.

“You think you deserve my cock huh?” Another slap to your other ass cheek. “Tell me doll, do you think you fucking deserve it?”

“Yes sir- please I’ll be good.” You whinge, head too dizzy to keep it up after being laid over his lap for god knows how long. You had no effort anymore to keep up the bratty act, all you wanted to do was cum.

“There’s my good whore.” He chuckles, helping you sit up before lying you back down on your shared bed. Hissing when your ass touches the sheets from the sheer amount of beating it had just received. You were just glad to finally get off his lap.

Dabi slid his jeans off, before laying down next to you. Pumping his cock a few times before encouraging you to get on top of him. He smirks at your tired expression as you begin to straddle him sliding down onto his shaft slowly.

You begin to use your bruised thighs to lift yourself up but Dabi ultimately pushes you back down, his other hand reaching for his phone. You look at him with confusion as you try to wiggle around him for any sort of stimulation. You felt like you were on fire with how much you wanted him to just fuck your brains out.

“Nuh uh doll. You’re getting this cock just like you wanted.” He lets out a low laugh, watching as the realisation sets in on your face. “Shame that bratty fucking mouth of yours had to ruin it. How’ds’it feel to be so full of my cock hm?”

You swore you could have screamed as you lay against his chest, one arm behind his head as the other scrolled mindlessly on his device, not even touching you.

“Please sir- I’ll be so good for you, just touch me a little.” With no warning Dabi slams back up into your hips and you let out a lewd moan at the friction inside of you.

“Each time you fucking squirm or complain I’m gonna make it longer. Now shut that whore mouth of yours up or you will regret it.”

-Hawks lives for cockwarming… why?

-because this mans breeding kink is off the scale!!!

-loves cockwarming literally after every time you have sex when you’re trying for kids he fucking loves the feeling of just being left inside of you.

“Fuck baby bird you feel so fucking good around my cock.” Hawks’ shuddering moans mixed with your own filled the room with explicit ecstasy. “M’gonna fill you up with so much cum baby, you want that huh? Want me to fill you up with my cum?”

“Yes Hawks fuck- please m’need it so bad.” You weep at the feeling of his balls slapping against you harshly. It only spurred him on to cum so deep inside of you.

“Fuck. This cunt was made for me babe.” Hawks bit his tongue at the feeling of you tightening around him, threatening to reach your high also. “I’m gonna ruin that pretty pussy with my cum you got that?”

You moaned at his lewd words, babbling out ‘yeses’ and anything else that was in any way affirmative to getting you any closer to euphoria, Hawks couldn’t help but chuckle at your state.

“Look at my baby bird.” He pulls out far and plunges deep into you, hitting just the right spot. “I love it when you get so needy you turn dumb baby, fuck you stupid because all you want is my cum, yeah?”

With his filthy words you let out a raspy moan as you came undone around his cock. It only took a few more thrusts before he too climaxed inside of you, fucking his cum right back into your entrance. Pulling you into him with his wings as added leverage he pulled you to lay next to him, cock still firmly thrusted into you.

“Keigo aren’t you going to-“

“Come on baby bird, you know the rules.” He kissed your forehead, using little feathers to pull the hair back from your face ever so gently so he could look into your eyes. “Gonna keep my cock nice and warm inside of you to fuck my cum into you huh? Ain’t that right?’

[beahasasideblog]

At the Beach

My fill for the @starkerfestivals bingo card prompt 'At the Beach'! This one's a little short, so I won't be putting it on ao3.

In California, there is a town, and within that town is a cove, within which lies a small beach. The sand is coarse and dark, the kind that sticks between the treads of your shoes. The waves are dark and wild, thrashing into spindrift, into the air, and up, away from whence they came.

On this ugly beach- for, comparatively, there are many far more beautiful beaches in the state of California- there is a single, wooden staircase. This staircase is old, and worn, and tucked into the side of a hill. These steep steps are rickety, and high in number, and a strong deterrent for any who might wish to visit the cove.

A deterrent to most people- but Tony Stark isn’t like most people, is he? He stands at the edge of the tide, just close enough that the sand beneath him is packed tight from water and sediment. Sea glass shines with the final remnants of late afternoon, shimmering as the tide recedes with the day.

Tony has always loved this beach. Partly, it is for solitude. In all his years, he has never once seen another person along the stretch of sand. Who would walk down a cliff for a pathetically small beach? The other reason he loves the beach, however, is (ironically) the company he can find within it.

Small, cliffside coves, such as this one, are formed by the rising tide. As the waves crash against the side of a mountain, they wear down the walls. Eventually, after thousands of years, the cove is formed. When the tide is low, a stretch of sand is revealed. When the waves come crashing back down, all evidence of a visit is washed away.

“Tony?” A familiar voice calls out, sparkling and sharp like the sea glass crunching beneath his feet. “Did you really need to see me?”

That’s when Tony turns to look at the source of the voice, and sees him again. Peter Parker stands awkwardly to the side, with hands tucked into the pockets of his zipped jacket. His cheeks are tinged pink with the chill of the wind, painting him to look like a cherub.

“I know that you… that we agreed to stay apart from each other,” Peter continues, after not receiving a reply. His hands shift visibly in his pockets, but do not leave them. “I don’t even know why I’m here. I’m doing fine on my own, and you’re clearly doing fine, too, so you don’t need anything from me, and I might as well just leave, so I’m gonna do that before…”

“Before what?” Tony prompts, taking off his dark sunglasses and rubbing the lenses against the hem of his shirt. Even with the reveal of his red-rimmed eyes, Tony averts his gaze, as though that will mask anything. “Before Morgan follows you and sees us here?”

With that, Peter sighs. “Don’t blame this on me, Tony. I wanted to fix things, to make it work. You made the decision to break it off, because you’re so fucking stubborn. What is this, huh? Are you trying to get me to admit that I’m better off without you? Is this all some elaborate way for you to justify your own selfish actions? It’s not my fault that you keep wanting to hurt yourself!”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Tony scoffs, an aching emptiness in his chest clawing at his ribcage. “Morgan is… I’m her father, and I need to do what’s best for her, and she doesn’t… Peter, you have to understand-”

“I understand it, but that doesn’t make your reasoning sound!” Peter interjects, doing his best to make his breathing steady. “Morgan would have gotten over it, eventually! She just needed some time to understand that we actually care about each other! She would have gotten over the age thing, and she’d have learned that I’m not, what did she call me, a ‘gold-digging twink’? Or was it a ‘selfish homewrecker’?”

“It’s not my fault that she was surprised to see her best friend in bed with me!” Tony shoots back, finally forcing himself to stare his former lover in the eyes. For a moment, there is only the gentle crashing of the tide, and the strained breathing of two men with conflict within their hearts.

It is only after a long, tense moment, that Peter finally breaks the silence.

“You were never going to leave your wife, were you?” His voice is small and fragmented, shards of glass only held in a mirror’s frame by tension of their placement. He speaks with a voice so weak that a strong breeze could bring it all crashing down. “I wasn’t ever going to be.. We weren’t ever going to be anything real. I was just there to keep your bed warm.”

“Peter, you know what you mean to me,” Tony chokes, taking an unsteady step toward the other man.

The man in question pulls back in response.

“I know that you kept telling me, ‘Just a few more months, baby’,” Peter spits, his voice becoming a sharp, angry thing. “You fed me empty promises for two goddamned years, and I-I was stupid enough to believe you! And where did that get me, huh? I’ve lost my best friend, the man I love, and… And you’re untouched by the fallout.

“I have to wonder if that’s what you planned, the whole time. Maybe you just needed an excuse to throw away your old mistress and find a new one. Tony… did you ever really love me, the way I loved you?”

If this were a love story, Tony would rush across the beach, pulling his lover into his arms and whispering sweet promises. He would press sweet kisses to Peter’s face, and resolve to change for the better. To provide a life worth living together.

But this is not a love story- not because the two men are not in love. Instead, it is because, quite simply, some men believe-

“Stark men are made of iron,” Tony says quietly. “I can’t… I’m not capable of loving anyone more than I love myself. I’ve hurt you enough, already. You should go.”

“You’re not even going to deny it?”

“Why would I? Some people just aren’t… we just aren’t made to love others. All I can ever do is take.”

[admiralbuttcheek]

A Pox on Our Pilot (Sicktember 2021)

@sicktember 2021 Day 3: Chickenpox/Rash

Fandom: Top Gun (1986)

Characters: Maverick/Goose

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33667063

The first call came from Carole.

“Hey, honey, how are you?” Goose’s smile was audible.

Carole didn’t sound as happy. “I’m doing well, but it’s Bradley.” Goose’s smile faded. “You see-”

“What is it?” he asked, cutting off the rest of her sentence. She huffed a heavy sigh before continuing.

“He’s got chickenpox.”

Well… shit. Now it was Goose’s turn to sigh heavily, then turn away from the phone for dramatic effect. “How is he?”

“Oh, he’s right as rain. Itchy and all, but happy to be staying home from school watching cartoons all day.” The pilot chuckled. He’d had chickenpox as a kid too, and that’s exactly what he remembered: staying home, eating ice cream and reading comics. Not a bad couple of days.

“And you? You don’t have it, do you?” Goose couldn’t bear the thought of his wife and son, itchy and miserable and all alone, while he and Mav had the time of their lives in Miramar. Just a few days ago they’d come up to visit, which was nice.

“Not,” Carole hummed. “Not yet, anyway. I called his pediatrician, he said Bradley is contagious until all the spots go away. Apparently you can be contagious before they even show up.”

“Really? If you need anything, call your mom, okay? I’m sorry, babe, I wish I could be there to help.”

“Goose,” Carole soothed. “I can handle a little chickenpox. But you, stay safe out there, you hear me? No more crazy flyby’s with Maverick.” She giggled in good nature.

“I will,” Goose promised. “Take care, my love. Just a few more weeks.”

“You too, Goose. See you soon.”

When he got the second call, he knew who was on the other end. Maverick.

“Goose,” came the aviator’s croaky, washed-out voice. He sounded like hell.

“Say no more, Mav;” Goose replied. “I’m on my way.”

The front door was unlocked, which was perfect because Pete knew he didn’t have the strength to go open it. He woke up this morning with a pounding headache. When he trudged into the bathroom to get some Tylenol, a chance glance into the mirror showed him exactly why he felt so goddamn awful. Spots, hundreds of them, all over his face. When he looked down, they were all over his chest, too. Oh my God. As the sleepiness waned, the itchiness kicked in. It was downright unbearable. But moving his arms to scratch at them hurt; every joint simply ached.

He didn’t think twice before calling Goose.

“I’m glad you called, Mav,” the RIO said as he scrutinized the lump of blankets and spotty flesh on the couch. “You sounded like crap on the phone, and you look like crap in person.”

“I feel like crap, Goose,” Mav moaned. “Seriously, everything hurts. And itches.”

Goose reached a hand out to his pilot’s forehead to check for fever, but Maverick jerked away.

“Don’t, I’m contagious,” he croaked. Goose shrugged and reached forward anyway.

“I already had it, when I was in 3rd grade.” Maverick felt warmer to the touch than usual. Nick went to search for a thermometer. “Can’t believe you never had it,” he called back from the bathroom. He returned with a thermometer, giving it a vigorous shake before sticking it in Pete’s mouth.

“Got lucky, I suppose,” Maverick mumbled around the glass.

“Don’t forget, under the tongue,” Goose prompted.

Maverick rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Goose, I have been sick before.” The pilot scratched absent-mindedly at his bare, pockmarked chest.  

He smirked. “You sure as hell don’t act like it. You’re a disaster, man.”

“No wonder they call you ‘Mother Goose,’” Mav retorted. “They should call you ‘Mother Hen.’”

Goose erupted into disproportionately hysterical laughter. “Good one!” He cawed. Taking some time to catch his breath, he sauntered into the kitchen. It was pretty bare; Maverick wasn’t exactly a five-star chef. All he could find was some instant coffee, a loaf of bread, some saltine crackers, and half a box of breakfast cereal. Not even a can of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup. Shrugging, he grabbed the crackers and filled up a tall glass of water.

When he returned, Maverick had spit out the thermometer and was holding it up to the light.

“What’s the damage?” Goose asked.

“100 even. Not great, but not bad.” Maverick slumped back over, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. He was shivering ever so slightly.

Goose held out the crackers. “Here. You should eat something.” Maverick shook his head, looking away.

“No. Feel too sick.”

“Sick like feverish sick, or sick like ‘gonna puke’ sick?” Goose probed.

The pilot gave a half-hearted shrug. “I dunno. Both, I guess.”

“Fine, but at least drink some water, okay dear?” Goose said in a wifely, mock-doting tone. Maverick snorted and looked at the glass like it was toxic, but accepted it and took a sip anyway.

“Do you have any calamine lotion?” Goose asked.

Mav’s brow furrowed. “Any what?”

“Calamine lotion,” Goose repeated. “Y’know, the pink stuff your mom would rub on you when you got into poison ivy. Looks like Pepto Bismol.” Maverick’s face remained blank, confused. “Seriously? Never got chickenpox, never got poison ivy… Did you even have a childhood, Mav?” Maverick smiled, then wrenched the blanket off to frantically itch his back. He cursed.

“Don’t scratch them,” Goose chastised softly. “That only makes it worse.”

“I wouldn’t scratch them,” Maverick began, voice strained with irritation. “If I wasn’t. So. Damned. ITCHY! God, can’t you give me something for this?”

“That’s what the calamine lotion was for.”

Maverick made an exasperated noise that broke into a weak cough.

“I have an idea,” Goose said. “Stay right there, I’ll be back in a sec.” He shuffled back towards the bathroom.

“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere,” Maverick hissed, taking this opportunity to scratch more while his RIO was out of eyesight.

Thankfully, Maverick’s medicine cabinet was better stocked than his pantry. Sure, no calamine lotion, but he did have some Tylenol PM. Bingo. Goose shook out two pills and carried them back to the pilot, who was now itching so hard he looked near epileptic.

“Seriously, stop scratching, you’re gonna hurt yourself,” Goose cooed. He held out the two pills. “Take these.” Maverick took them without even asking what they were. Goose explained anyway. “They’re Tylenol PM. In 20 minutes, you’ll be out cold. Can’t feel itchy if you’re sleeping.” He plopped down on the couch next to Pete.

“Thank God,” he whined. “Better living through chemistry, I guess.” He took another tentative sip of water, staring at the ground. “How did I even get chickenpox anyway? Nobody at TOPGUN is sick.”

Goose blanched. He gulped. “Yeah, about that…” Maverick glanced at him with narrowed eyes. “Bradley’s got it. He must’ve given it to you when he and Carole came to visit a few days ago.”

Maverick smoldered. He wanted nothing more than to smack Goose upside the head, but he loved his “nephew” (and his RIO) too much to lash out. Plus, he knew how much it meant to Goose to see his family. 5 weeks was a long time to be away from two people you love more than anything.

“Sorry.”

That apology was more than enough. “It’s fine. Is he doing okay? And Carole?”

“They’re both fine.” Goose fiddled with the corner of Maverick’s blanket. “I miss them.”

Maverick gave a long, slow blink. The medicine was starting to work. Everything had gone wonky, like a record played at the wrong speed. “I know you do, Goose. They miss you too.”

“Just a few more weeks,” the RIO whispered, more to himself than to anyone else. He lost himself briefly in memories, of his first dates with Carole, the day Bradley was born, his first steps. He’d been there for all of that; how many memories was he missing while he was here in Miramar, and his family… wasn’t?

Something landed on his shoulder, wrenching him from reminiscence. He turned to look at what it was. He saw short, dark, tousled hair. Maverick had finally passed out, with his head on his RIO’s shoulder no less. Goose reached over to tuck Maverick in more snugly. Even through the sleeve of his shirt, he could feel Maverick’s low-grade fever.

“Sleep tight, Mav,” he whispered, more to himself than to anyone else. The pilot hummed in response, already deep in dreams of jets and open skies.

[protecticarus]

hi i love all you're prompt fills! everytime i read them they brighten my day. could you write one where dirk wakes up in the hospital in season 1 and assumes he's back in blackwing?

hi! thank you so much, it makes me very happy to hear that! i hope this one lives up to the expectation too! x

oh and happy new year everyone!

needless to say, this one’s got me back on my regular angst train. all aboard!

possible tw: anxiety/discussion of panic attacks + descriptions of physical pain

~

Dirk had been woken up in many unpleasant ways during the course of his life, but this throbbing in his shoulder was new. It started off as a part of his dream, Dirk’s focus suddenly directed at the pain in his shoulder right as the Queen was about to knight him as a thank you for his heroic work. Eventually the pain became strong enough to wake him and he realized it wasn’t a dream, but a very real, very painful wound.

Before Dirk even got his eyes open, he was already swearing up a storm because of the pain in his shoulder. His colorful stream of cuss words was cut off as soon as he finally got his eyes open.

He was in what seemed to be a hospital room. Only problem was, he couldn’t for the life of him remember why. Unlike the intense pain in his shoulder, the steady beeping of the machine attached to him and the smell of chemicals was very much familiar to Dirk. Waking up in the hospital wing of Blackwing was a regular occurrence during his childhood.

As soon as the familiar beeping and smell registered in Dirk’s mind, his breath hitched. Of course. It made sense. The fresh wound, the gap in his memory, the hospital room?

It was Blackwing.

He was back.

Dirk tried to think of what the last thing he remembered was, but he knew it was a wasted effort. The drugs Blackwing used on their subjects were known to wipe out memories quite far back. Dirk knew there was a chance he’d never remember how they’d managed to capture him this time, though clearly it had included an injury to his shoulder.

The only thing keeping Dirk from going into a full blown panic attack was his shoulder, which kept getting more painful the longer he was awake. The stubborn, now sharply stinging pain kept him firmly in the realm of reality, while his erratic breathing threatnened to plunge him into a hazy state of anxiety.

“Calm down.” Dirk told himself. “Stay. Calm. It’s fine. You’ve been here before. You made it through before. Everything is fine.” He chanted, almost angrily. “Oh bollocks, it’s not fine, it’s all shit.” He added finally.

Suddenly Dirk could hear footsteps outside of his room. Even though it seemed impossible, his breathing got even more shallow and fast. Whatever little quiet moment he’d had to come to terms with his recapture was clearly coming to an end. Someone was coming and it was officially back to experiments and Project Icarus for him.

Dirk willed himself not to cry. He would not give them that satisfaction. No way would he let them know just how excruciatingly heavy his heart felt right now. They would not get to know about the panic he was currently battling to keep inside.

After what seemed like an eternity, the door finally opened and a short, dark skinned older woman walked in. Dirk didn’t recognize her, but then again, it had been several years since he was last in Blackwing.

“Ah, look who’s awake!” Said the woman.

Dirk didn’t reply. Why should he extend any sort of politeness to any employee of Blackwing.

“You okay over there? You’re breathing kinda funny.” The woman said as she walked over to the machine beeping on by Dirk’s bed.

Dirk remained silent, his eyes trained on the woman’s back as she looked at the monitor.

“How are you feeling, kid? Any pain?” She asked.

Dirk’s eyes were practically watering because of the pain in his shoulder, but he knew better than to trust anyone at Blackwing to jump at the chance to allieviate his pain.

“Oh, hun, you’re in a lot of pain aren’t you? You should’ve called for me! That’s what the button’s for!” She said and pointed at the little remote laying next to Dirk in his bed. “No matter. Let’s just get some painkillers into you, mister.”

After a few minutes Dirk couldn’t help but let out a relieved sigh as the pain finally subsided a little bit. He had half expected the woman to pretend to help him instead of actually doing it.

Since Dirk’s brain was somewhat cleared of the overwhelming pain, he felt a little braver.

“How did I end up here?” Dirk asked. It didn’t matter how they’d gotten to him, not really, the result was the same miserable life as Icarus, but he was curious nonetheless.

“Oh that handsome detective drove you up! He made sure you were in good hands before quickly taking off again. Lucky you, unlucky me, if you know what I mean.” She explained and winked.

Dirk blinked a few times. He couldn’t figure out who the woman meant by ‘that handsome detective.’ What reason did anyone in Blackwing have to pretend to be a regular detective at Blackwing?

“I’m- Uh, what exactly happened to my shoulder?” Dirk asked next.

“Oh boy, you got quite a few memories knocked out of you, huh?” The woman replied. “Well, you rolled in with two whole harpoons sticking right of ya. Wasn’t pretty, let me tell you. But no worries, you’re all fixed up now! I’m not gonna lie, it’s still gonna hurt like hell, but you’ll live.”

Dirk was beginning to wonder if he was still dreaming. Harpoons? What the hell was she t- Wait. Harpoons. The bald men. The machine. Estevez. Todd. Oh God.

“I’m... I’m not in Blackwing, am I?” Dirk asked, a flicker of hope lighting in his chest.

It was the woman’s turn to look baffled. “Honey, I don’t know what that is, but you’re at a hospital in Seattle, USA. On Earth.” She replied.

“I’m in Seattle.” Dirk repeated.

“Bingo.” Said the woman.

Dirk let out a genuine laugh, which was quickly cut off by his shoulder reminding him of his current predicament.

“You were a bit confused there, weren’t ya?” Asked the woman.

Dirk sighed. “Yes, I believe I was. I apologize for my manners, I thought... Well, it doesn’t matter. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss...?” He said.

“You can call me Nichelle, honey.” She replied warmly.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Nichelle. Thank you for the drugs.” He said.

Nichelle laughed. “My pleasure, kid. Now, let’s take a look at that shoulder of yours, shall we?”

As Nurse Nichelle - of a Seattle hospital, not Blackwing - thoroughly checked Dirk’s injury and then applied fresh bandages, Dirk found himself talking through the whole procedure. It was almost like talking kept his mind off his surroundings. He knew he wasn’t in fact in Blackwing, but if he focused on the sounds, smells and pain instead of talking, it would be too easy to forget that fact.

As soon as Nichelle left the room, Dirk felt anxiety creeping back in. He hated hospitals. The sooner he could get out of this one, the better. Of course he had no idea where he would go from here, all he knew was just that he wanted out. Sure, he had the apartment at the Ridgely but if his last conversations with Todd were anything to go by, the former bellhop would not be happy see Dirk wandering the halls of his apartment building.

Later than he would have liked, yet sooner than one might expect from a patient with two harpoon wounds in the same shoulder, Dirk was discharged. Even as he was rolled out of the hospital in a wheelchair, he kept chatting incessantly. As long as he was in the hospital, he would be on edge. Clearly the chatting wasn’t as warmly welcomed by the nurse wheeling him out as it had been by Nurse Nichelle.

As the nurse left him standing outside of the hospital, Dirk could finally feel the Blackwing related anxiety dissipate. He took a deep breath and looked at his surroundings. He felt better already.

Then he remembered everything else he had to be anxious about. Where should he go? Is there anyone he could contact that wouldn’t hang up on him? He might have not been in Blackwing after all, but were they still after him? Dirk’s head was beginning to spin again.

And then Todd showed up.

For a few hours Dirk was truly happy. He had Todd back, he had Farah and he had the plans for his detective agency - and now he had the money to make it happen too! For a while, it really seemed like Dirk’s life had gone from a nightmare to a dream in the matter of hours.

This time Dirk woke up to a pounding headache. As he struggled to force his eyes open, he was met with the sound of beeping and the smell of chemicals. When he finally managed to get his eyes to cooperate, he saw another hospital room. Except this one had one significant difference to the last one. There was no Nurse Nichelle. This time there to greet him was Hugo Friedkin.

“Wakey, wakey, Project Icarus.” Said Friedkin.

Dirk let out a shaky breath. This time there was no mistaking this room for anything other than what it was.

It was Blackwing.

He was back.

~

if you have any ideas for fics, send me prompts! my inbox is always open! x

[savagetrickster]

Red.

— BNHA BOOKCLUB BINGO EVENT  —

anime |  character: bnha | kirishima eijirou words: 2.5k prompt/crossed out: “Last Words” Themes/Warnings: soulmate AU, angst, character death

Inspiration/Song: “I Knew I Loved You” by Savage Garden

“...I knew I loved you before I met you I think I dreamed you into life I knew I loved you before I met you I have been waiting all my life...”  

a/n: Imma tag the people who I have shared this plot with on the @bnhabookclub​ ‘s discord server HAHAH @pixxiesdust​ (enjoy the angst my dear zeze <3), @gallickingun​ (who suggested Kirishima and DAMN i was like hell yeah!) and @hawks-senseis​ (who came out with a crack idea that i’m SO gonna write it soon cos her idea is GOLDDD that i can’t help lmao-ing everytime I think about it XD)

No amount of time or research could ever unravel the mysteries of the world. 

Why are the fate of the two people bounded by the words etched in their skin?

Why do these words only appear when one turns sixteen? And why sixteen? 

There were so many questions but there were no answers. 

Some gazed upon the heavens to find the lost meanings, while some dug for them in the earth beneath. 

All these for the mystery etched in their skin. 

But for you, you sought the answer through the seemingly endless scroll through forums on your screen. 

Digitized words painting enthralling stories of how these sacred marks — dubbed as Soulwords by the millions across the blogs, forums, the news articles — on their skin led to happy endings, love, and happiness. 

The common retelling of their stories mentioned the ‘unexplainable rush of warmth’, ‘the boost of bliss and spiritual strength’, and ‘the sense of wholeness’ they thrived upon finally meeting their fated partners.

Many who visited them gushed about their own, and those who haven’t, were longing and full of anticipation.

But not you.

You were shaking with anxiety and...desperation for a sign of hope.

“You’re beautiful.”

—ever since he turned sixteen and woke up to find these two words etched into the skin on his right, curving around his inner wrist like a permanent bracelet, he had waited.

Eagerness and suspense brimmed and shook inside him for the day to come with an intensity that could match a child’s, itching to open their Christmas presents or a puppy’s, sitting by the door with a wagging tail.

He hasn't met them, but he was already in love.

He kept his hands lonely for them.

His lips had never tasted the sweetness of a kiss for them.

It didn’t even matter how long it took.

Waiting was what he wanted to do because his every firsts belonged to them.

Even if it meant watching his friends around him, one after another, find their fated ones through their three-years long of hero education at the U.A. High. 

He’d seen the uplifting effect the destined bonds had on them, even for Bakugou — the subtle spring in his usually hefty steps and the blissful contentment behind his scowling faces was obvious to those who had fought and struggled alongside him in the three years.

Even for someone as optimistic as himself, Kirishima often found himself filled with envy and doubts.

Still, he could never be tempted to let anyone else steal his firsts before he met them.

Every waking moment started with his hopes of hearing their first words. That she or even he would be somewhere out there, beyond his front door he was about to venture out from, arranged by fate to finally meet him.

Fleeting daydreams about how he could finally hold them in his arms and give them all his love. Even thoughts of doing things as simple as grocery shopping and taking naps together filled him with so much bubbling warmth.

Birthdays after birthdays, he wished before dancing flames, for the arrival of the fateful day awaiting them to come quicker.

Along with the wish for their safety and health, he never failed to add a silent promise to become a strong hero that could protect them.

“I did it.”

A bashful mumble turned his head away, the razored friendly grin he flashed at the passing giddy gushes of ‘Red Riot’ falling away.

Huh?

His puzzled eyes landed on Bakugou who wasn’t as enthusiastic about the gasps and admiring gazes on them. 

Kirishima blinked. Once, twice. “Did what?”

“Were you even listening, shitty hair?” Bakugou’s impatience ripped through his words and faded with a sigh, “I said I proposed.”

His reminder nudged Kirishima in the direction of the phone conversation they had three days ago.

Understanding dawned upon him as soon as he pieced things together. 

“....She said yes, right?” 

The same razored grin he flashed to the faces on the boulevard they left behind brightened his face once more as his eyes danced excitedly. 

“Of course, she said yes,” Bakugou grunted, fighting against the edges of his lips that was threatening to break a smile across his face. “We’re meant to happen after all.”

There was a short pause between them as the brightness in Kirishima’s eyes faltered slightly.

“You’re lucky, Bakugou.”

Kirishima felt the exhilaration he had for his best friend sink with a rising ache in his chest at the reminder. 

He knew Bakugou didn’t mean any harm when he said what he said. He could tell it was out of happiness.

“I’m already twenty-four like you, yet I’m not even anywhere close.”

Under the cloudy sky, the dainty café huddled humbly among the huge city buildings, while hundreds of people rushed by it outside on the crowded street. 

Half a dozen customers glanced up as the door swung open, announced by a rush of cold wind. Unlike the outside, the interior of the café was warm and cheery, with bright lights and colorful walls. 

The customers returned to their conversations as the door swung closed behind the new entrant and the cold breeze was forgotten.

Your shoulders rose and fell as you breathed in the aromatic grounded scent of coffee lingering thickly in the cafe.

Even from the door, the stranger beside your best friend caught your eyes and you couldn’t help the bitter pinch of envy that sunk with your heavy heart.

Your brain instantly connected the dots as your legs brought you over to your friends at your usual corner.

Now, that explained the enthusiasm that seemed to leak through your screen when your phone pinged with a new text from her. 

It was her turn. 

You didn’t even need to hear the exuberance bouncing off your best friend’s voice when she introduced him to you, to know that those stories you’d read online were true.

Just like what you’d read on the forum, the abundance of happiness seemed to radiate off them; you could feel it the moment you slipped into the seat across them.

You were happy for her, really. 

The blissful glow across you was practically tangible enough to be seen from the way their eyes smiled along with their lips. 

And you forced yourself to smile too — like how you have always tried for your friends before her.

But the harsh whispers reminding you of your own reality just wouldn’t let you. 

Being your best friend who knew where your heart dwelled, she noticed.

“Believe in yours, (Name),” The dull gloom glazed over your eyes disappeared at a snap in time for you to watch your best friend's hand leave his.

“Everyone has met their happy endings and I know you are bound to meet yours too soon.” Her hand slid across the table to squeeze yours. “Stop overthinking, okay?”

You wished you could.

“Don’t worry about me, Yui,” The brightest smile you could muster swept over your face. “We should totally start planning for our double dates once I meet mine!”

Her eyes lit up, the concern in them washed away and was replaced by the enthusiasm you knew so well. 

Exactly the way it was, when you felt it with her back then. 

Before your sixteen birthdays, the one thing you two always look forward to was double dates once you've met your fated ones. Then, you two had a notebook filled with giddy doodles of words you thought might turn up on your wrists.

But only hers was anything close to them.

Her comforting words...you wanted to cling onto them so badly. You wanted to believe in them.

You longed to feel the same kind of anticipation others felt waiting for their fated ones. And not dread and fear.

You tore your eyes away from the couple before you with a quiet pain and slipped a glance down to your wrist.

Jumping from forums to forums, glimpses of happy endings were what you’ve been desperately searching for.

For a hint of hope for the ominous words on your skin that spelled your fate.

“Don’t die on me— please.”

Her eyes roamed the chaotic scene before her. 

The flashing red atop ambulances, the metal rattling of the wheels under stretchers delivering casualties and some were like her, crying helplessly.

The reassuring squeeze around her hand and his words meant to comfort her did nothing to stop the sobs retching from her.

The waves of angry, gray clouds rolling menacingly in the vast overcast sky over them made her feel so tiny.

“...Someone, please help her.” Her cracking voice could barely rise above the urgent cacophony around her as she begged, her mascara running down her cheeks with her tears. 

A sight that she wouldn’t allow anyone to see if (Name) wasn’t buried somewhere under the rubble of what used to be the cafe they were sitting in.

“My best friend…” She cried, pleading left and right as she tried to find someone who could do something. Anything. 

“Please—”

She knew it was futile for any civilians here, but she had to try. 

“—she’s still in there…!”

Where were the Pro-Heroes?

(Name) may not be her fated one, but she was everything to her. A girl she laughed and cried with...She couldn’t lose her.

Hope widened her eyes as she spotted a distant recognizable figure that had just stepped into the chaos, and rushed forward.

“...Red Riot!” 

You didn’t know how it happened, but you knew it happened too fast.

One moment you were staring back at your reflection in the bathroom.

The next moment you were lying on your back, eyes locked onto the hovering block of concrete that could have crushed you if not for the jagged crimson-stained one impaling your stomach.

The sticky warmth on the side of your heads and the throbbing that came along with it told you were bleeding from the head as well.

Even with you floating in and out of consciousness, you could feel the harsh ripple of the damages done to your body, spreading across you like hungry wildfire.

Every breath you tried to take into your lungs was accompanied by shards of stabbing pain. 

All these pointed to one path you were heading to, but you clung onto the words on your wrist.

Those words...you haven’t heard them.

So you weren’t going to die yet right?

For once in your life, ever since those inscriptions appeared on your skin, hope bloomed across your chest as you desperately held onto them like they were your lifeline.

You will live. 

You will survive this. 

And die as you were meant to when time comes.

—you told yourself, repeating them in your muddled head like a mantra.

Then while fighting hard against the darkness dimming around your vision and reciting encouraging words in your head, the block over you was suddenly lifted off.

The burst of light that fell onto you made you wince instantly, your eyes squinting weakly against stark brightness that greeted you.

You heard or more than saw the block being shoved away and what towered over you now was a magnificent figure of hope. 

It was a breathtaking sight for someone who was about to be swallowed by the clutches of despair. 

Like a reenacting scene of Altas who had finally pushed off the weight of the heavens off his shoulders, that never came to be.

Standing tall and sturdy against the light behind him, the clad of strong red on him made you want to reach out to him so much. 

It was like he was life itself, blazing gloriously in the light from the way the red on him seemed to be leaping off him.

Amongst the darkness clouding your vision from the corners, you watched him curl down into you, drawing closer with concern in those eyes.

You couldn’t help the words you uttered through your parched lips.

“....You’re beautiful.”

You saw him freeze, but you didn’t think much of it because you were still marvelling at the sight before you — he was indeed beautiful.

“No, no…” 

You were too weak to notice the painful realization distorting his face or hear the panic he muttered under his gasping breath.

”...not like this.” 

There was a starburst of pain amidst the red in his trembling gaze as Kirishima lowered himself beside your tattered body. 

Red. 

They were everywhere on you. Leaking from everywhere they could, seeping out along with the strength in your half-lidded gaze. 

He knew what was coming. He knew there was no way you could survive this. 

But it didn’t mean he was ready to accept the reality stained crimson red before him.

Kirishima searched around him, eyes desperately looking for someone…

Recovery Girl, a paramedic, a doctor...anyone that wasn’t as helpless as him. 

You couldn’t see him that clearly now that everything was dimmed, but you could sense the turmoil in the body beside yours.

“...It’s okay.” Your lips curled weakly with your attempt to comfort him.

“No, no...it’s not okay.” There was a crack in his voice that made you wonder how kind this stranger was to weep so hard for a person they didn’t even know.

“Not yet, you can’t just go like this. I’ve waited for so long...” A choked sob broke into his plea. 

“...Don’t die on me— please.”

A limp gasp sifted through your lips at the rush of a strange, honey-rich warmth that immediately flared within you to his words.

You thought you heard him gasping with you when it happened.

It died quickly, fizzling out as quickly it came. 

It was only for a second but it was enough for you to feel it in you, enveloping you like the embrace of a gentle sun. 

Was that the ‘rush of warmth’ so many talked about? 

…But at death’s door?

“So,” A wry smile climbed across your face as a humorless chuckle left you, “....we’ve finally met, huh.”

Whatever hope you held onto to keep your eyes open just minutes ago crumbled.

This was it, wasn’t it?

“I’m sorry,” Tears welled in your eyes. “...I’m so sorry it had to be like this, whoever you are.”

“I’m Red Riot.” You heard him frantically answer after you, “I mean, Kirishima Eijiro.”

His hands clamped over yours and you could only think of how warm they were, mustering the bit of strength you had left to give him a squeeze.

The Red Riot, huh? 

Who would have thought… 

Another wistful chuckle left you as you tasted the bitterness of regret and sadness.

Tears brimmed over your eyes at the withering light in your vision.

The darkness was callous.

“I’m (Name),” You knew you were close. “...And I’m glad I’ve finally met you, Kirishima-san.”

It was only interested in pulling you in. 

Your loosening grip around his hands jostled him into panic. 

...and it was the clear victor. 

He screamed for you. 

He screamed for someone to help.

He cursed at fate.  

“Please don’t leave. I beg you, don’t go...I love you.” — was the last you heard before darkness finally took you. 

.

.

.

Yui was wrong; not everyone was bound to meet their happy ending.

Because you didn’t. 

...And neither did he.

a/n: did you notice how differently they viewed the color red?

[vannahfanfics]

Sentimentality

Category: Mild Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Mashirao Ojiro, Tooru Hagakure

Hi, everyone! Here again, with another story in association with the @bnhabookclub​ Bingo Event, this time for the prompt "Stealing Clothes"! I hope you enjoy it! 

A lost sock is an inevitability. A misplaced tee-shirt or pair of shorts is a likelihood. Hell, even leaving a jacket behind on one's school desk isn't exactly an uncommon occurrence. Mashirao definitely had misplaced some clothing articles in his life, for sure. Yet… He wasn't sure he was air-headed enough to lose an entire half of his wardrobe. Well, half was an exaggeration, but three tee-shirts and a hoodie in two days was just plain suspicious. 

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he inspected the empty hangers in his closet. Yep. There are definitely more of them than usual, he concluded with a puzzled hum. He wouldn't consider them clothes that were particularly worth stealing; it wasn't like the thief could pawn them online and make a substantial amount. No, that wasn't the motive. Maybe I should ask Tooru. She's friends with Mina, and Mina knows everyone's secrets. He suddenly narrowed his eyes. Come to think of it… I haven't seen Tooru at all these past two days. 

It was easy to miss an invisible girl, even when she was dressed in a school uniform or fluffy pajamas, but Mashirao genuinely couldn't recall seeing her in the past forty-eight hours. Friday afternoon after class, she had stumbled off to her bedroom, and had been suspiciously absent ever since. He had not seen her at meals, though he dimly recalled Ochako mentioning she would take plates to the girl later. It was now late Sunday evening. Could she be sick? He wondered and rubbed the back of his neck. The riddle of his missing clothes would likely remain unsolved, so at the very least, he ought to crack the mystery of a missing invisible girl. 

The wooden planks thrummed with his footfalls as he meandered to the girls' side of the dorms. The rest of the students were downstairs in the common room; Mashirao had been there as well, and had only left to finish his laundry, wherein he discovered the missing clothing articles. The dormitory halls were eerily silent as he proceeded towards Tooru's room. When he arrived, he cleared his throat loudly before knocking on the door. 

"Hagakure? Are you all right in there?" A wheedling, pitiful whine bled through the wood. It prickled the hairs on the back of his neck; she sounded downright miserable. He could faintly hear her whimpering within, and the bed groaning as she tossed and turned. Mashirao thoughtfully chewed on the inside of his cheek. Just barging in is rude, but she sounds like she's in a lot of pain… The proper thing to do is check on her, right? He tried the doorknob, and it turned with no resistance. "Hagakure, I'm coming in." 

The room was shrouded in darkness; Tooru's thick curtains were drawn over the window, blotting out the light from the night sky. Mashirao wrinkled his nose at the acrid scent of sweat staining the air. "Hagakure?" He called softly. Her bed was a mass of blankets and sheets and pillows, tangled and disarrayed. The lump of cloth wriggled a bit, and a muffled, pained moan sounded from within the mass. "You okay?"

"No," she whimpered in response. Mashirao spied several empty water bottles on the ground and a half-empty one on her nightstand. He plodded closer to see a small, aluminum dish filled with generic fever reducers and pain relievers. His eyes swept to the bed as it wiggled some more, and her head popped up. The only way he knew it was her head was because of the damp dishcloth draped over her invisible forehead. "I'm on my period."

Mashirao's cheeks turned the color of the Tylenol pills in the dish. Mashirao only had marginal experience with girls; of course, he knew what a period was and that they were extraordinarily unpleasant, but… That was it. Coughing uncomfortably, he scratched at the scrubby blonde hairs at the nape of his neck. 

"Oh," he said simply. He frowned as Tooru whimpered again and wound the thick comforter between her fingers. Dark patches of discoloration appeared in the imprint of her sweaty hands. "Is there anything I can do to help?" He inquired gently. 

"I feel bad," she pouted. "Ochako and Momo and Mina have been offering all weekend to stay with me, but… That's not fair. I can manage all right! Please go enjoy yourself with the others."

"I'll stay with you if that's what you want. I can't enjoy myself knowing you're suffering up here all alone." He couldn't see her expression, but he fancied that a relieved smile formed on her lips. The mountain of pillows and blankets wobbled as she adjusted her position to clear a space on the bed. Mashirao would've been quite content to just lounge in her desk chair, but he couldn't refuse the ailing girl when she invitingly patted the empty mattress beside her. The tip of his tail twitched uncomfortably as a blush alit his cheeks; nevertheless, he climbed into the bed. He exhaled shakily as he reclined against the headboard with a pillow tucked under the small of his back and crossed his legs, winding his thick tail around his middle. He blushed darker when he felt Tooru snuggle up to him. 

The bed dipped where her weight concentrated, forming the outline of her curvy figure. The bedsheets were damp with her perspiration, and Mashirao could feel her body heat seeping into the areas where they were in contact. He could even feel the quiver in her feverish body. I will never let any of the guys make period jokes again, he resolved solemnly. "Here, Hagakure, cover up," he said while pulling the sheets up over where he thought her shoulders might be. He raised an eyebrow when he spotted a familiar pattern peeking out of the folds of the thick down comforter. He felt the invisible girl squirm as he gently tugged it out to reveal one of his missing tees. 

"... Hagakure, am I going to find my two other missing shirts and my missing hoodie in this bed?"

"... Mayyyyybe," came the meek reply. He smiled amusedly as Tooru squealed and slapped her invisible hands to her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Ojiro! I-I just… I felt good enough to grab a glass of milk last night and passed the laundry room, and the detergent smelled soooo good, and… one thing kinda led to another…" 

Ojiro smirked and spun the tee shirt by the collar around his index finger. Denki and Sero were always complimenting his mountain breeze-scented laundry detergent. "I'm sorry… I get weirdly sentimental on my period," the girl sniffed in mortification. Ojiro shrugged and dropped the tee-shirt on her head, making her squeak.

"It's no big deal. I think it's really cute."

"You don't think it's creepy?" she asked shyly as she pulled the shirt from her head and hugged it to her chest. 

"Nah," he reassured her and rested his arms behind his head. "I mean, what kind of guy would I be to deny a girl so clearly in need? I can handle a few missing clothes." She giggled girlishly and huddled back down within the mound of blankets. She inhaled deeply, no doubt savoring the earthy scent wafting around the freshly-cleaned article of clothing. 

"Thanks, Ojiro." He leisurely nodded and settled himself further against the headboard. He glanced down when Tooru abruptly whimpered and screwed her fingers into his side. He ignored the excruciating pain in his intercostal muscles to ask her what was the matter. "Ah, sorry… Cramps," she groaned. The wet rag flopped onto his belly as she pressed her head into his abdomen. He soothingly stroked her back through her thin tank top while stretching his arm out to fumble for the bottled water and painkillers. 

"Here, take these," he instructed while uncapping the water and handing her two pills. He heard her sigh gratefully as she downed the two tablets and drained the rest of the water. She tossed the bottle onto the floor with the others before draping herself back over his middle, whimpering. 

"A uterus is a curse." Mashirao chuckled and began palming soothing circles between her shoulder blades.

"I certainly don't envy you."

"Ojiro, you're really sweet," she said suddenly, making him blush. He wondered if her hormones were raging out control again, and she was growing sappy. He felt her head roll on his chest to look up at him. "You're gonna make a great boyfriend one day." He began sputtering out words with no idea of the sentence he wanted to form, his entire face red from the tips of his ears to the column of his neck. Tooru giggled and shifted so that she propped up beside him. "You know… You could be my great boyfriend." 

"Have I given you too many Ibuprofen?!" He cried and snatched up the bottle to check the dose limit and the side effects, because surely the drugs were making her loopy. Tooru laughed giddily and slapped him lightly on the shoulder, and he set the useless bottle aside. 

"I'm serious! You're so kind," she sighed and laid her head on his shoulder. He gulped audibly and tugged at the collar of his shirt, unbearably hot all of a sudden. Her fingers curled into the golden waves of his blonde hairs to wind the strands around. "You've made me feel a lot better, and… I've liked you for a long time." Mashirao smiled sheepishly and looked out of the corners of his eyes at her invisible face. 

"Well, if we're being honest here, everything about you is cute- not just nabbing my shirts.” She snorted piggishly and, in her giddiness, cuddled further into him. Feeling a little more confident, he snaked his arm around her waist, marveling how small it was compared to his muscled arm. 

"So is that a 'yes'?" 

"How about we let dinner next Friday night decide that?" He laughed as she playfully slapped his chest. 

"So smooth! Look at you." Mashirao grinned and played with the sheets. Looks like listening to Denki and Hanta debate dating advice paid off after all… Tooru sighed contentedly and, once more, pressed her face into the side of his neck. Her warm breath puffed over his skin, gentle and comforting. "... Hey."

"What?"

"Can we start the boyfriend-girlfriend thing early so you can get me a bowl of ice cream? <3" He snorted haughtily, but his true feelings were betrayed by the adoring smile stretching over his face. 

"Sure. Chocolate or vanilla?"

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List:  @simplybakugou​ @sadistiks​ @wesparklebitch​ @deliathedork​

[faejilly]

I was tagged by @la-muerta​ & @facialteeth​ & @thedivinemissema​ for the WIP/Title Game

rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you and interests you and i’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it!

AND THEN  by @shadoedseptmbr​ @msviolacea​ & @ravenclawnerd​ for the “stories you want to write... but for some reason haven’t yet”

so this will be a mish-mash of both? The WIPs will mostly have blurbs in this case (to fit the second meme) but you are still welcome to ask follow-up questions, if you’d like ;) Assuming you make it through the list, it is uh. Not Short.

Anyone who would like to play with their WIPs, please consider yourself tagged in either or both of these. :D

Misc Fic Folder:

“untitled document” - where I’m working on fictober fills so I have word-counts for my GYWO tracker. I am not working on these because Brains Are Dumb and also Going Back To Work Is Exhausting

I made a file called “YULETIDE!” which has nothing in it but I’m determined to finish this year so that is definitely technically a thing in the Unending WIP List of Doom worth mentioning. (Tho obviously that’s all I could say even if I had started, because anonymous.)

“coda-fics, rewatch!” -yes, that exclamation mark is important! it’s to keep me motivated! (it didn’t work). Much like untitled, this is for putting stuff so I can do word count tracking even if I don’t know what I’m doing. Currently I think it just says “MARYSE” because I was working on my SH 1x6 coda-fic and then got distracted and haven’t typed anything up yet. (Yay notebooks? Boo notebooks? Not even sure at this point.)

WNIP (works not in progress) Folder:

“TOG” - I had one vivid mental image of how Nicky & Joe met (blood-stained evil smiles?) but then no idea for a follow-up story and also the fandom is insane and I’m not sure I want to deal with all of *gestures vaguely* all that

“Shan Xia Notes” -for a TTRPG that never quite got off the ground; she was a semi-tragic selkie who was still in love with the evil queen/lady who stole her skin and I got to play her for like one session and she was surprisingly chaotic neutral, which wasn’t at all what I’d been expecting. But the game never really got off the ground, so I never had enough info to really delve into writing backstory fic

“post-Kruschev” -Kruschev’s List was the last episode of Scarecrow & Mrs King, and I was debating writing an epilogue in place of the s5 we never got, to try and tie up some loose ends, but the fandom’s three old-ladies in trench coats and I never quite worked up the gumption to get it anywhere

“Code Realize warm as silk sequel” -there is literally nothing in this file except “SEX! Only a little angst” because I wanted to write some “we can’t actually touch each other” smut but never actually did. 🤷‍♀️

BioWare (also all Not-In-Progress Anymore)

“seb/adelaide”, “Theia” & “DAI Erana” -these WIP folders were cannibalized for ficlets for the last few times I did fictober, and while originally I had ideas for longer epilogues for all three of them, at this point I don’t think any of the remaining bits could support a story any longer.

”whispers in the dark” -Maia Ryder never really got much fic at all; the cancellation of any further Andromeda stuff was really disheartening, and at this point I’d have to play the game again, and I don’t think I’m gonna manage that any time soon

”TSP” -a Mass Effect 3 Shepard AU collab project that kind of went off the rails, and our mutual brains/lives never quite seem to line up so we can try and rebuild it ”Ngaio & Tane” -my one truly ruthless Shepard (Alliance background, who romanced Traynor) whose father Tane Shepard was, I think, in PsyOps, and I wanted to figure out their complicated relationship but never really did know where I was going with it

”JE Zu & Yaling” -so I’ve rambled about my Tragic Sagacious Zu Romance Thoughts regarding Jade Empire more than once (#Icy Yaling should have most of it) but apparently I want to yell about it more than I want to actually write it? Whoops.

”CI sequel: 5 times fic?” -Cruel Intentions is a kinkmeme fill that I started and then it sat for like five years before I actually finished it, and I liked the ending, but it does leave a giant fucking question mark in terms of how those people got from there to where they are after the game, and I kind of wanted to write a proper h/c fic rather than just... leaving them wallowing in all that trauma?

But I didn’t. I don’t even remember for sure how I wanted to frame the 5/1 of it all, besides it being something sad about allowing people to see you or touch you in some way. (Prayers maybe, since I think there was definitely some Sebastian & Fenris & faith stuff going on in there.)

“candles” -Merribela prompt fill that I never was happy with? Not sure what I might do with it at this point, so it’s just sitting there all sad and lonely and neglected-like.

Shadowhunters

pt1: WIP LIST ONLY

“Persuasion” -so I keep trying to write Persuasion AUs in many fandoms because it’s my favorite Austen, but I think I like it too much, I have no real solid concept of how I’d transform it, and if I don’t have anything else to say about different characters within that framework, I have no push to actually write anything? Also this SH version of it suffered from MASSIVE scope creep when I started outlining and it got too big for me to handle so I like, killed it twice? Whoops. This one is really probably never gonna happen.

“oosdt sequel” -I wanted to write more about the Forest That Eats People and Magnus & Alec as Guardians Between Worlds, and also some background Magnus’ Found Family & Lightwood Family Feels (maybe some clizzy?) and I left a Madzie plot-thread dangling from the first one on purpose even but I think this one had too many ideas and not enough focus so it’s sort of sprawling all over a doc with a lot of “???” in it

“procedural-ish” -this was originally going to be a sex-farce. and then it turned more serious. and then maybe kind of copaganda which was uncomfortable in terms of the Everything That Is The News in 2020, and then maybe it was more a Mafia AU and at that point I had self-inflicted tone whiplash and I wished the voices in my head were a little more forthcoming about their plans so I stopped before I brained myself on my computer monitor in frustration.

“I had rather a rose than live forever” -I started a reverse!verse Malec (Shadowhunter!Magnus, High Warlock!Alec) for bingo last year, and I couldn’t quite get it together in time, so I made a moodboard inspired by the bits I’d started instead. I may see if one of my prompts from Bingo this year help me finish it?

“fall fright fest (practical magic  au)” -exactly what it says on the tin! almost exactly a year old & neglected! IDEK ANYMORE (I talked about this one with the WIP meme last time tho: here)

“priest!kink theology?” -I thought it was gonna be smut? I like priest!kink. I have made other people like it and yell at me even! But then I kept diverging into demon!Magnus thinking about Priest!Alec’s faith and as usual, IDEK ANYMORE *laughs*

(If they’re remotely canon-adjacent or divergent, a bunch of these are in here because I need to rewatch the show to get the pacing/timing/tone right and I haven’t, and I don’t know why, because I enjoy the show, but BRAINS! Are Dumb! So I guess that’s it?)

“I do” -I have tried to write this damnable Malec arranged marriage fic like six different times. I have signed up for fic exchanges and bangs with it, I have rewritten massive sections, trying to change tone or structure or POV or whatever, and it basically comes down to they like each other too fast and I keep not gutting it enough to get back to a useful pace, but by the time I realized that I was on take six and kind of sick of it. I may get back to it eventually

“wing!fic” -canon divergent in early s1, trying to deal with the consequences of Simon’s kidnapping as the Truly Serious Event that it should have been. It uh. Got heavier than I expected with those consequences (considering it was originally just supposed to be Alec’s wings flirting with Magnus) and also see above re: rewatching for pacing.

“2x20 aftermath/date night/pandemonium porn“ -yes that is the actual wip title. It used to be “spite fic” because I was originally inspired by fighting against a lot of fic!Alec characterization that was clearly based more on the books and ATG syndrome than the Alec in the show, which is the Alec I know and like and want to read about. BUT, pacing and etc. again, I think. Also I have somehow entirely lost my knack for writing porn, which makes it difficult to finish something originally intended to be smut!fic. Or even teasing almost!smut.

“rubbish heap” -so this is about three different fics that I realized complemented each other really well so they’re now all in the same file as I try to turn them into the sequel of “with an if in its soul”. It includes amnesia, parabatai lore shenanigans, a s3 rewrite, and some truly awful Owl adjustments that make me wince in horrified authorly delight and pain. BUT, as with the other ones in this file, the scope is large and I normally write short-fic and I kind of just threw up my hands in exasperation. I may have to break it back up into the three different fics instead, if I ever actually want to write it. Them? But also I need to take better notes on s3 to make sure I have what I need in here.

SH Pt 2: Started posting or not yet in hiatus because it’s actually almost ready to be a thing in the real world! maybe!?

“kisses (firsts)” -I actually started publishing this one, a “series of firsts” that was supposed to be kind of relationship milestones and kind of an excuse for smut, and then there wasn’t that much smut and I lost momentum and also dear lords & ladies the timeline is stupid, wtf. I may not ever add to this one, tbqh. It doesn’t stop in a terrible place, and they’re all ficlets so they stand alone all right.

“clizzy epilogue” -this is blank atm, it’s more a reminder for me to keep poking away at my “girls who can’t breathe air, only fire” collection BECAUSE I WOULD LIKE TO ACTUALLY GET TO THE CLIZZY AT SOME POINT

"mer!alec" -pts 2-4 of a series, but apparently having an actual plan gets in the way of me *writing* the thing, and I haven't managed to throw the half an outline far enough away from my brain to be able to write again. Or something like that.

"ibhww" -if broken hearts were whole is a soulmate fic I started a million years ago, and purposefully set aside to finish some other WIPs because I thought they'd be quick, and now it's just buried under two and a half years of regret and shame so it's hard to get back to it

"iafy" -i am for you is a delightful & frothy semi-epistolary fluff piece that also just lost momentum because Life & 2020 & etc. It's far and away the most popular thing I've ever posted on AO3, which also makes me feel weird sometimes, and I feel like the fact that there's no grand conclusion planned, just a bit more fluff and settling in, might end up being disappointing? Basically, it's the first time I think I've psyched myself out about reader expectations, and until I get over that I'm going to have trouble finishing the last couple chapters. (There really are probably only two more chapters though. IT’S SO CLOSE, I wish I could just... write it. And yet?)

“fake-hating” -I do not like fake dating as a trope that much, I just do not get it, but I love outside POVs and arranged marriages and there’s this delighful tumblr post about how they wished there was more fic about people who were together but had to pretend they werent’, and uh. This may be that? Eventually? I’m not exhausted by my failure to finish it yet, so it’s still in the regular folder rather than the hiatus folder, even though nothing’s been posted for it.

AND I THINK THAT’S IT?

Not as terrible as it could be, but still. MANY WORDS THAT MAY NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY. Posting the equivalent of one’s old ratty sketchbook is always a weird feeling. :D

[sagemoderocklee]

Hello! For the meta asks, would you do 1, 5, 8, and 17?

you did not come to play, lilac! thanks for all these questions! <3

1. Tell us about your current project(s)  –   what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

oh lord. that’s a... question. i have. so many current projects, i don’t even know where to start. this is gonna be long so please bear with me lol i’ll probably give more detail for some fics over others, and i’ll only go over fics I’ve got documents for because otherwise we’d be here forever.

The Art of Love: so this one is obvious because it’s been in progress for the last 2ish years? no i think it’s three now. I won’t go into detail with this because the fic is roughly halfway through, so there’s plenty of content for that up! I’d say the progress with that fic is actually going really well, though. Unlike Alliance, which took 8 years--five years of writing, three of editing--TAoL has been up for way less time, and is already about to hit the halfway mark! I really need to get back to it, tbh because it’s been way too long since my last update.

Honor Bound (sequel to Alliance): so this is.... kind of on pause. I’ve got the first three chapters written, but my focus has been more on TAoL when it comes to my more complicated, long running stories, so HB has taken a backseat. I think I won’t get back to working on the Allied Nations Saga until after TAoL is done, in all honesty.

Find Me: this is my HS AU, which has been on the back burner forever and I feel terrible because I think it may honestly be my most popular fic. Unfortunately, AUs/slice of life stuff is difficult for me because I’m more interested in politics, so I lost momentum on this fic. It is about halfway done. I have a good chunk of chapter six written, but not enough that I could say I’m close to finishing it.

It Eats Your Heart: obviously I just started this one, and it’s a horror fic. I’ve really gotta sit down and do some major plotting on it because I only have some very vague ideas currently.

Pearl-Filled Lungs: this is one of like three ningyo AUs I have--the other are pirate/ningyo AUs (and ones actually a selkie not a ningyo). I started it last year for the GaaLee fest, and it’s been sitting unfinished for far too long. I finally sat down recently and plotted the whole thing out, so I’m hoping to get back to working on it soon! It’s only 5 chapters in total, so I don’t think it’ll take me super long to get through once I sit down and do it.

Who Dares to Love Forever: This is a working title, and I may change it. This is a fic idea I’ve had for a couple years, inspired by the song Who Wants to Live Forever by Queen. This particular fic is a vehicle for my sage mode!rock lee headcanon, and explores just how effective Chiyo giving Gaara her life would have been given she was an old biddy. So the idea for this fic is that Gaara’s running out of time because Chiyo only had so much to offer.

Absolution: this is another fic that I’ve had on the back burner for years. it was initially inspired by art by @brianadoesotherjunk but quickly spiraled into something much bigger because of course it did. This particular fic is one I’m extremely excited about. I need to go back over the first part, because I feel like it’s not quite right, but I do technically have the first part done. This fic follows Gaara struggling with bouts of narcolepsy that trigger nightmares induced by trauma and guilt from his childhood. These nightmares are incredibly dangerous for obvious reasons, but even more so because Temari’s baby is on the way. Temari and Shikamaru are married, living in the Kazekage estate, and with their baby coming and both needing/wanting to get back to work, they also need a nanny. Unbeknownst to Gaara, the year prior to the events of the fic, Maito Gai died, succumbing to the 8th Gate finally, and Lee has since been spiraling. His depression has become so self-destructive that he’s been taken off active duty. Shikamaru, along with the rest of the Konoha 12 (minus Neji and Sasuke), get together and discuss what to do. Tenten believes that Lee being a nanny would be the perfect thing. And so Rock Lee is sent to Suna, hired by Shikamaru and Temari as their live-in nanny...

We Need Not Be Yellow Tulips in a Garden of Gardenia’s, Yet We Go the Way of the Red Camellia: true to form, I decided that a hanahaki fic was something I had to do, and I was not going to pass up the chance at being as Extra As Possible with the flowery language, ergo the ridiculous title. I’ve gotten part way through the first chapter of this fic, but the whole thing is roughly plotted out and each chapter title is just as extra as the whole fic’s title.

Thirteen Strokes: so this is a fic I have--once again--had on my mind for ages, and--once again, because I am nothing if not a caricature of myself--inspired by a Florence+the Machine song, All This and Heaven Too. I started writing this the other night, as I wanna use it for GaaLee bingo. It’ll be 13 chapters, as per the 13 strokes that it takes to make the character for love, ai, in Japanese. The fic is from Gaara’s PoV, and follows his journey with and his relationship to love, with lots of worldbuilding and politics because it wouldn’t be an Eeri Original without those things.

Scarification: this is another idea for bingo based around the prompt shinshoubyou, which is a fictional disease where your emotions cause physical marks on you

Fill in the [  ]: another bingo idea, based around the prompt bouaishoukoigun, the fictional disease where you forget the person you love if it’s unrequited.

The Eagle’s Augury: an idea that allows me to play around with more worldbuilding and focus on Karura. In this fic, the curse (mentioned briefly on the Naruto wikia) that has led to every single Kazekage being assassinated, is coming for Gaara, and Karura is trying to warn him from beyond the grave. At the same time, Temari and Shikamaru’s marriage is approaching, and their ceremony is being held in Suna, with all the fan fair a marriage for someone from the Kazekage line should see. Again, another fic inspired by Miss Florence+the Machine, the song is Mother

Pomegranate Sun: this is a fic that I am... so excited about. Another fic that was originally inspired by a Queen song, Under Pressure, and has of course taken on a life of its own. This fic, I am actually going to be writing with @ghoste-catte! It’s an arranged marriage trope, and I’m super pumped for it! We’ve only got a little bit started, and it has obviously not taken priority for either of us since we both have a lot of fics on our plates.

The Ballad of the Dragon and the Phoenix: this is a fic I’m really excited but is going to take a LOT of research to get off the ground. I had this idea sometime last year, I wanna say? This fic is another self-indulgent headcanon about Lee’s origins, his family, etc. This fic starts when Gaara shows up on Lee’s doorstep, asking him to accompany him to another country for reasons Lee cannot understand. Gaara has been in talks with Phoenix Kingdom, hoping to forge a new relationship only to find that the Emperor wants to use shinobi for militaristic purposes. Lee doesn’t understand what help he could possibly offer the Kazekage, but he can’t very well turn him down.

okay, i’m gonna stop there. these are the ones I have titles and documents for, and honestly that’s probably way more than you wanted to know about lol

5. What character that you’re writing do you most identify with? 

Despite the fact that most of my fics end up from Gaara’s PoV, I actually identify with Lee the most!

8. Is what you like to write the same as what you like to read?

Yes! Which is hard to find, tbh, because I am a sucker for political dramas with slow burn romances, but I don’t see a lot of that in the GaaLee fandom. I’m not as into like slice of life or short stories where the characters get together quick, I’m really not into established relationship fics unless it’s a sequel, so I tend to avoid those. I like AUs but it really depends on the AU, because I ultimately prefer the canon and I love seeing the way people write the shinobi world and all its rules and cultures and things. I’m just a big fan of worldbuilding, politics, and slow slow burns. Not this 25k SLOW BURN! crap because that is NOT a slow burn. I wanna see a fic that’s 200k words in and they still haven’t even figured out they’re in love! I like stories I can really sink my teeth into, ya know?

17. Do you think readers perceive your work - or you - differently to you? What do you think would surprise your readers about your writing or your motivations?

Oh gosh. I generally don’t think too much about it except like hoping people don’t think I’m like a stuck up asshole because of how I talk about my writing, writing in general, my hcs, etc. I mean, obviously I don’t expect everyone in this fandom to like me--and there are ppl I’ve gone out of my way to be vocally against because they do nasty shit--but largely I feel like I come across as too intense, so even the general population of GaaLee fans that I do want to interact with I’m always a lil nervous that people secretly don’t like me and basically are like “oh god this bitch again” when they see me in the tags. But I just get really excited and invested in my ideas, and honestly for the longest time this fandom was SO small and there weren’t a lot of people putting out content regularly so it was like a handful of us so I think it made me more emphatic about GaaLee lol I think I always like assume people aren’t as excited about my writing as I am or that people are like “too much politic, i need more romance”.

I’m always surprised when people really love my AUs, like Kado or Find Me have had such fantastic reception, and it’s like people just eat that shit up so much. And then I look at like Alliance or Art of Love and get kind of confused because I think by comparison those are more interesting and more developed than my AUs. I put a shit ton of work into everything I write, especially anything that requires research, so it’s not to say that I do less work per say, just that I feel like TAoL and things like it are more interesting and more developed, and the relationship feels.... somehow more to me there than in an AU.

a lot of my motivation really just comes from the lack of content this fandom had for so many years, and the fact that Naruto could have been a much more interesting series and I love worldbuilding so much. I think my motivation for each fic is different though. Like Alliance was started because I wanted to write something different from what was mainly in the fandom at the time because mind you I started that in 2010. But my motivation for TAoL is more wanting to tell a beautiful story with a complex narrative that looks at the failings of the shinobi world. Whereas like any slice of life fic is really just meant to be a fun break. And sometimes I write something literally just because I wanted to fulfill that trope for the GaaLee fandom--again, a lot of my ideas have been sitting for years and years and years (TAoL was an idea I had literally right after starting Alliance, but I didn’t get to it until 2017), so a lot of ideas that are old are because at the time that trope hadn’t been fulfilled yet in the fandom though that’s changing a lot with the recent GaaLee Renaissance of the last couple years.

[wichols]

Ah! Just saw you’re about to close bingo prompts so lemme see if I could squeeze one in ^~^ Something I’d love to see is the whole “fire exposes our priorities” thing — like maybe one of the themed days in the host club goes wrong and suddenly there’s a fire?? What are each of the members’ first reactions? Love your writing!!

Anon, this prompt. This one got me. I spent many days just sitting and staring at a blank document contemplating my life choices. I seriously almost made this into a Headcanon instead of a one-shot. Like had inspiration not struck with a decent plot it was gonna be headcanon time. But fortunately enough it struck and now you have this monster of a one-shot. I hope you don’t mind that I took them outside of the club room but I just couldn’t get myself to write this as a club room activity. It still has their reactions and I hope you enjoy the fun banter I included in the beginning. I think it is the most fun I have had writing interactions between the hosts. Enjoy!

Burning Intentions (All Host Members)

The last rays of light dipped behind the pine trees plunging the Morinozuka mountain vacation home into darkness. Heavy snowflakes danced between branches and settled silently onto the peaked clusters forming around the surrounding landscape.

“Wow, Takashi, the snow looks so pretty!” Honey beamed with excitement. “I thought Kyo-chan said it was only supposed to snow a little and that looks like more snow than even he predicted. Takashi! What happens if it snows so much that we get stuck here!?!” Honey chirped happily while watching the snow falling outside.

“Mitsukuni.” His eyes shifted from the unfolding scene outside to his cousin.

“I know Takashi! I know. We get more slumber party time!”

Before he could interject the blond-haired boy bounded down the hallway disappearing into his designated room. Voices could be heard floating into the hallway as Mori made his rounds checking in on the other hosts. He had to laugh at the types of conversations he was overhearing. His attention was directed first to the current third-year club members.

“No way in hell.” Haruhi chided the twins.

“We know the way to hell and you are more than welcome to join us on the journey.” They snickered back at her.

“Pass, I will be double checking my door to make sure it is locked tonight. There will be no trio cuddle party. And the last time you pulled that stunt I got no sleep while you bastards slept like the dead.” She scolded.

“Please, we promise to be good this time?” They whine through pouted lips.

“You guys would classify yourselves as good? Need I also remind you of the last time you forced your way into my bed that you suffered from a little ‘morning issue’.” Forming air quotes with her hands.

“I wouldn’t consider our morning issues ‘little’ if that’s what you’re insinuating.”  Hikaru air quoted mocking her back. “Who’s to say that some part of you actually enjoyed our morning surprise? What girl wouldn’t want two sinfully looking men curled up in her bed happy to see her in the morning?”

“A girl with more than two brain cells. Now get out and let me finish unpacking, if I let you stay you will know where I put everything and hide it so I have to wear what you two brought for me.” Pushing them away from the doorframe she slammed and locked the door securing herself inside the room without wandering eyes.

“Hey, Mori-senpai thanks for letting us stay at your cabin! This will be another fun weekend!” Kaoru waved as he watched Mori continue his inspection of the sleeping arrangements.

Mori’s attention was then directed to Kyoya’s foot tapped in an irritating cadence while Tamaki lamented about the twins trying to sleep with Haruhi in her bed. 

“Tamaki, so help me, if you do not give me some space this weekend to breathe air I will suffocate you with my laptop charger before we leave. Not only that but I will drop your body off a sheer cliff, never to be found again. Do I make myself clear?” His fingers continued to push keys down in rapid succession while his eyes watched Tamaki step outside his room. 

“Crystal.” Tamaki squeaked while tiptoeing out of the room.

Just as Mori was about to turn and head towards the kitchen Honey swung open his door, revealing his pink bunny onesie, declaring, “ jammies and coco time in the solarium!” The short host giggled as he rushed past the others, with Usa-chan in tow, heading towards the east wing of the cabin.

“You heard Honey-senpai! Jammies and coco are waiting!” Tamaki began to fling an assortment of clothes from several drawers looking for a suitable pair of pajamas before rushing into and out of the bathroom following close behind Honey.

“Hika, if we are quick we can make Haruhi wear the special set we brought her!” Sharing equally devious looks the twins went rushing towards their room only to be thwarted by Haruhi emerging from her room in a pair of bland colored sweat pants and an oversized hoodie.

“Too late.” She smiled victoriously at her comfortable state of dress.

“Oh god it’s worse than we thought!” Each twin gripping the other in support of their disgust.

“Better get dressed sooner rather than later or else Honey-senpai will finish off the coco before you even get to the solarium.”

“He wouldn’t.” Pausing to wonder further.  “Would he?” Karou questioned.

Arching a brow, she flashed them an evil grin. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“HURRY Hika! We have to get there before he drinks all the coco!” A slam of the door and clamoring bodies could be heard shuffling around in search of pajamas.

“Mori-senpai, I hate to bother but could you show me the way to the solarium? I have a feeling it will take the twins longer than expected to get ready.”

“Sure, follow me.” Walking in tandem they quietly made their way through the main living area and down another hallway.

“Mori-senpai?”

“Hn?”

“Why do you have a glass solarium attached to the cabin?”

Lifting a brow, he glanced down at the female host. Finding no ulterior motives written on her face he began, “vacation for the Morinozuka’s means spending a substantial amount of time reflecting and meditating. By building the solarium we are not limiting ourselves by the weather but retain the ability to connect with nature through all types of seasons. In this case, Mitsukuni suggested using the sunken seating and fire pit to watch the snow falling.”  

“Cool idea in theory but isn’t it dangerous to have a fire going inside an enclosed space?”

Ruffling the top of her head he gestured towards Honey and Tamaki already wrapped up in blankets, snuggled deep into the cozy couches surrounding the small fire pit built in the center of the room.

“Woah.”  Her eyes sparkled as she soaked in the unique view of the room. Walking wordlessly to the edge of the room she tentatively placed her palms against the cooled glass. “It’s like I am outside without being outside. Like I am still a part of nature.” Had it not been snowing there would have been no way she couldn’t distinguish where the glass ended. “I would love to be in this room when it’s bright and sunny!” Face beaming with delight at the house’s owner.  

Leaving the three hosts to enjoy their time together, he made his way back to the west wing to change into his own pajamas but not before he was passed by a pair of squabbling brothers in matching sleepwear following an unusually empty-handed Kyoya. Making quick work he changed and joined back up with the other hosts huddled around the fire pit. Mug in hand he took the open seat between Mitsukuni and Kyoya.

“Takashi, this was such a good idea! The coco is so yummy!! Even yummier when sipped in front of the fire!” Honey cheered.

The other hosts nodded and hummed in agreement, mesmerized by juxtaposition of the snowstorm raging on the other side of the glass and the light whipping of flames of the fire, comfortable silence fell between them as they listened to the crack and pop of the burning wood.

“I have an idea.” The feminine voice broke through the silence. “Mori-senpai said that his family built this to use for meditation. Why don’t we all start our weekend off right by allowing for some quiet reflection?” Posing the request to the rest of the group.

“Boring!” The twins chimed as they nuzzled into either side of Haruhi’s neck. “How about we pre-game for tonight’s cuddle party and start it now?”

“No thanks. The only cuddling that is happening this weekend is right now and it’s between myself and Usa-chan that was offered to me.”  

“Splendid idea Haruhi. Though instead of getting in the usual meditative position how about we give ourselves some space on the couches and focus on the sky above us? It’s not every day that we have the opportunity to watch the snow fall in such a whimsical manner.” Kyoya in pleasant agreement, for he himself was in desperate need of some quiet time after Tamaki’s outbursts from earlier.

Pushing the two bodies closest to her away, each member settled back into their comfortable quiet while craning their necks to stare into the flurry of the darkened sky. All that filled the room was the ambient noise of the crackling fire, the host’s steadied breathing, and the low howl of the wind outside. The serene atmosphere soothed the aching souls that sought the refuge of the remote cabin away from the bustling demands of the outside world. Minutes passed as a singular loud pop of the fire caused their bodies to flinch and settle back into a quiet calm.

Eyes still swept up in the dancing snow, Hikaru’s voice broke the silence. “What smells like burning?"

“Shh.” Haruhi shushed.

“But really something smells like it is burning.”

"Well, we are sitting by a fire..." Kyoya said in his usual sarcastic tone.

"No this smells different less like burning wood and more like, more like,  burning fabric..." Hikaru audibly making sniffing sounds.

Everyone’s heads snapped to the source of the unpleasant smell. A look of horror flashed across their faces to the growing flame of Haruhi’s blanket. Momentarily stunned at the realization of their on fire maiden the friends quickly jumped into action.

“HARUHI YOU’RE ON FIRE!” Hikaru screamed while grabbing one of her arms trying to drag her body out from under the blanket.

“Here let me help! Let me help!” Joining in on his brother’s efforts, Kaoru pushed the remaining part of the blanket off her torso and let it pool in a heap of flaming fabric next to the fire pit.

Struggling against the ‘helping hands’ Haruhi flailed her legs desperately trying to regain her sense of direction. “Knock it off guys! You’re pulling too hard!”

“No! Usa-chan! Someone save Usa-chan!” Honey pleaded.

Hearing his cousin’s desperate plea Mori jumped across the open fire pit and snatched up the falling pink bunny before it tumbled onto the pile of growing flames.

“DON’T WORRY HARUHI DADDY WILL SAVE YOU!!” Springing into action Tamaki grabbed the offending blanket and sprinted through the solarium towards the front door.

“TAMA-CHAN! TAMA-CHAN! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?? YOU’RE GONNA CATCH TAKASHI’S WHOLE HOUSE ON FIRE!” Honey yelled as he followed closely behind the frantic host king. While Mori trailed behind clutching Usa-chan, stomping out a small trail of flames.

“Well this night just got more idiotic than I ever anticipated.” Kyoya grumbled. “Haruhi are you hurt in any way?” He asked looking at the shaken woman caught between the tangled arms of the twins.

“Seriously guys let me go. No, Hikaru, for the last time, my legs did not burn off. Kaoru, do something, besides velcroing yourself around my waist.” She droned. “I’m fine Kyoya-senpai, really. I didn’t even realize it was my blanket that caught fire until Hikaru screamed it into my face.”

“Sorry about that. It was the first thing that popped into my head. But really you should be falling into my arms because I was the one that actually saved you.”

“Don’t forget that I helped too!” Kaoru squeezing even tighter around Haruhi’s waist.

Before she could respond, a proud Tamaki walked gallantly back into the solarium declaring, how he ‘vanquished the beast that tried to harm his Haruhi.’

“What exactly did you do with it?” She asked.

“I figured that since it was snowing outside and snow is frozen water, and really fire belongs outside. So, I tossed the on fire blanket out into the snow.” Puffing his chest proudly at his logical explanation.  

Honey stormed past Tamaki, flopping himself back on the couch. “Yeah, but not before Takashi had to stomp out all the little spots of burning blanket that you left behind in your wake of heroism. Had he not been following you, Tama-chan, you would have caught something else on fire.” He rebuked. Glancing around his eyes went wide. “Usa-chan? Did someone save Usa-chan??”

“Mitsukuni.” Mori approached him with Usa-chan hanging limply in his outstretched hand.

“Thanks, Takashi!” Beaming brightly at Usa-chan’s savior.

Finally peeling herself out of the twins hold, Haruhi huffed. “Too much excitement for one night, I’m going to bed.”

“We’ll come with you to make sure you make it back to your room ok.” The twins offered.  

“Kyoya-senpai.” She glared over her shoulder.

“Hikaru. Kaoru. I believe it is in your best interest to let Haruhi go back to her room, alone.” Giving his darkest Shadow King look as they sat back down onto the couch.

An audible gulp could be heard by all as Haruhi left the room. 

Letting his look soften, Kyoya noted the various expressions on the other’s faces making a mental note to himself. Some people in this room just revealed a lot more about themselves than they possibly ever intended. But two things I know for sure now is that one, Tamaki is still an overreacting idiot and two, there are those still sitting around the fire that are still madly in love with Haruhi.

[dottie-wan-kenobi]

hi !! uhm so i just saw your lil bingo card thing on Ao3 and i wanted to know if you would write the panic attack on ab Duke and Jason (Duke being the one to have it) thanks in advance love 💕

Here you are! Thank you right back for the prompt, and I hope you like it

Written for the @badthingshappenbingo square “Panic Attack”. X’s are finished, asterisks are requested, and the rest are free!!

---

Duke takes a bite of his ice cream, settling back into his seat. Ever since he first got officially fostered by Bruce, it’s been difficult to go out without the paparazzi hounding after him. He hasn’t been able to come back here, his favorite ice cream place, in months and he’s missed it more than he thought he would. Smiling happily, he scoops another bite off the top. He can’t help but hum at the taste of the fudge topping. He never could afford it before, and though he doesn’t love using Bruce’s money, why not take advantage here? It’s just fudge.

Jason sits across from him, licking absently at his ice cream cone. He’d offered to bring Duke out, saying, “If we’re brothers now, I should probably get to know you, don’t you think?”

And, well. Yeah. The good thing about Jason? He’s still legally dead, meaning that, other than a few paparazzi who are always trying to get pictures of him, there’s a lot less attention on them. Also, when Duke said, “Wanna get ice cream?”, Jason said, “Hell yeah.”

Usually when Duke asks that, it’s to Damian, who has lots of feelings about dairy products.

Anyway, it’s nice to just sit and chill. Jason doesn’t force conversation, but he listens when Duke speaks, and it’s really all he can ask for. (Something they don’t tell you about being brought into a big family? The daily fights for attention. Duke is still learning how to win.)

“How’s yours?” Duke asks, eyeing the Rocky Road Jason had ordered. He’s never had it before, but according to Cass, it’s a family favorite, so he’s curious.

Jason tunes back in, shrugging. “Pretty good. This place is way better than the kind we usually get. How’d you find it?”

“Grew up three streets over. We’d come here every weekend we could afford it.”

“Nice,” Jason says, and he sounds sincere. “You always get that monstrosity, or is it new?”

Grinning, he exclaims, “Hey, tutti frutti isn’t a monstrosity!”

“It’s healthy ice cream. Such a thing shouldn’t exist,” Jason replies seriously. “It’s a freak of nature.”

“Is not,” Duke says. After a quick bite, he continues, “And to answer your question, yes, I always got this here. No one else does it as good as they do.”

“I bet Alfie could.”

“Oh, don’t bring him into this!” Duke laughs.

Smirking, Jason asks, “Scared to talk shit about his food?”

“Hell no! I just. I don’t want to compare that and this.” He doesn’t want to say why—that while Alfred’s food is delicious, this ice cream is more special than any the butler could ever make. This ice cream has good memories of his parents attached to it, and he’s holding onto as many of those as he can. “They’re just—different.”

Jason doesn’t respond for a second, just looks at him. Then he licks at where it’s dripping down his fingers. “I get it. I love his noodles, but nothing can beat box mac and cheese. Me and my mom used to eat that all the time.”

Unsure if he’s allowed to ask—or if he even wants to, knowing from the others that Jason’s mom isn’t someone they’re supposed to talk about—Duke says, “Man, I’m glad you’re around. The others just don’t get it. Gourmet shit is good, but like, yeah, nothing beats Kraft.”

“You should talk to Steph,” Jason says, reaching his free hand out for a fist bump. “She argues with Tim and Dick about stuff like this all the time.”

Duke returns the fist bump, feeling like he’s the coolest kid on the block. Okay, that’s cheesy as hell, but whatever. It’s nice to be around Jason, who’s his cool older brother. Foster brother. Whatever.

Before he can reply, the worker behind the counter turns up the TV in the corner loud enough everyone in the shop can hear it. Where they’re sitting, they have to half-turn to see it properly.

On the screen, one of the local news people is giving a report on the latest Joker toxin incident. It was a few days ago now, and Duke thankfully hadn’t had to help with containing it.

“The last of the antidotes have been administered,” the news person says. “Other than the three deaths which occurred soon after the victims were brought to the hospital, no other deaths are being reported. GCPD is still recommending wearing face masks in the area….”

And okay, maybe there’s a reason Duke didn’t help out with it. It took place right around dusk, when Duke was heading home and the others were coming out. He’d been around when it happened, much closer than the rest. The crazed laughter that had filled the street has been plaguing his dreams the past few nights.

Bruce says Duke shouldn’t force himself to face the Joker. He says it could just make everything worse, and Duke knows now that he was right.

Seeing the accompanying videos to go along with the report, Duke is thrown right back to being a child. To watching his parents get infected, worse than those people were, and hearing as they laughed. His mom’s laugh was loud and she snorted all the time. His dad’s was wheezy and low pitched. Except, that day they were totally different, like something out of his worst nightmares. Maniacal and dangerous and empty.

“Duke?” Jason asks, but Duke hardly hears him. He’s tuned out, the background noise from the shop being replaced by the sound of his heart beating in his ears.The day before he lost his parents, they came here. Mom got cookies and creme, Dad got strawberry, and Duke got tutti frutti. They sat in a booth, and Duke kicked his heels against the seat, too short to reach the ground. Dad got ice cream on his nose, and Mom laughed and she took a picture.

The next day, they were gone. Not dead, he doesn’t think, doesn’t know, but gone. Never to be seen again. Because of that goddamn clown.

Someone takes the cup of ice cream out of his hand, and he hears Jason say, “You’re gonna make a huge mess, so let’s just put that down, okay?”

His chest hurts. He wonders what was going through his parents’ heads when they descended to the sewers, high and insane. Were they scared? Did they think they were going to die? Did they think about him?

“He’s fine, just back off,” Jason says, somewhere, and Duke ducks his head, trying to breathe. Why is it so hard to breathe? It was easy a few moments ago. Minutes? He doesn’t know.

There’s a hand on his back and on his chest, and they force him to sit up straight. His arm gets tucked against a chest, and he can feel it moving up and down. Then Jason says, “Come on, breathe with me, okay? You got this, man. Just do it with me.”

It takes ages, he thinks, to come down. To come back to earth, to his favorite ice cream place, where people are looking at him. Jason is next to him, stooped really low in a position that must kill his ankles, but he doesn’t complain.

Searching Duke’s eyes, he asks, “You good?”

That’s another unofficial rule around the family—no one ever asks that unless it’s serious. Unless they expect an honest answer and won’t take any bullshit. But he doesn’t want to say anything here, not when he can see the camera phones pointed their way. Being spotted is already inconvenient at the best of times, which this definitely isn’t.

Jason seems to understand. He stands up straight, sighing in relief. His ice cream is gone, and Duke doesn’t ask. Just stands with him and grabs his own cup, wanting to get the hell out.

He shouldn’t have come. He should’ve known better. It’s too close to the anniversary, too hot off the heels of the last incident. It’s been so long, he could’ve waited. He should’ve waited.

Jason pulls him outside, leading them right for the car he borrowed from Bruce. They don’t speak as they get in, Jason in the driver’s seat.

“You’re not gonna ask?” Duke says after a few minutes, feeling like he’s going to throw up, either from the attack or the anticipation.

“None of my business,” Jason replies, shooting him a kind look. “If you wanna talk, you can. But it doesn’t seem like you do.”

“I don’t.” And he doesn’t. He wants to go back to his room in the Manor and he wants to pretend this never happened. Wants to ignore the headlines and the concerned looks from everyone. But—”Uh. Thanks. For being cool, I mean.”

Duke winces at how he sounds, wondering if Jason will think he’s some stupid kid now. He doesn’t think he’ll be surprised if that’s the case.

Jason shrugs, reaching out a second later to give a friendly punch to Duke’s shoulder. “That’s what Robins for, you know? Being cool.”

Duke blinks. And then he laughs, and it feels good, cleansing. “Hell yeah.”

[roxyspearing]

What makes you happy

This little fic (slight understatement it’s 2.2k) is my entry for @purpleskiesandcherrypies and is also a fill for (deep breath) @spngenrebingo @spnfluffbingo2019 and @spndeanbingo

Word count: 2,238

Characters/pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam

Warnings: smutty smut smut y’all!, oral sex (male receiving), swearing, a bit of angst thrown in, soft fluffy Dean Bean

Prompt/Square filled: dialogue prompt for challenge is bolded, friends to lovers square for all three bingos

“Y/N!!” Striding through the bunker, you ignored the yells of your fellow hunter. “Y/N!” “Dean? Y/N?” Sam popped his head out from around one of the many bookcases, confusion clouding his face. “What happened?” “Nothing, Sam. Dean's just over reacting. Now if you'll excuse me, we just spent the last six hours in the car. I'm going to bed.” “But...” “Night Sam.” Leaving the Winchesters behind, their raised voices slowly got quieter as you got to the more unused part of the bunker. Sure, you could've easily taken one of the rooms closer to the kitchen or library, but the fact that these rooms had en-suite bathrooms had been the clincher. You’d spent enough time sharing rooms with the Winchesters before you'd found this bunker, and having a bathroom to yourself was a luxury worth the extra walking time.

Dropping your clothes on the bathroom floor, you checked out the mild gash on your arm while the water heated up. Using a flannel, you grimaced as you wiped your skin clean of the blood, but thankfully it had stopped bleeding now. A light bandage to stop it getting infected would be all you need after your shower. Stepping under the spray, you sighed in relief as the hot water hit your sore muscles. You'd seen Dean about to get hit by the ghoul you'd been hunting and you had acted on instinct, pulling him out the way and getting pushed into the wall yourself. If it hadn't been for the nail sticking out of the wall halfway down, you would have gotten out of the whole gig scratch free. Instead you had a new cut that would add to your collection of scars, and Dean had been pissed with you the entire journey home. He'd been like that a lot lately, you thought as you turned the shower off. There'd been the witch hunt where you had to be bait, the newly turnt vamp who'd gotten your scent after you'd all failed to spot the signs. For whatever reason, Dean seemed to have forgotten that you'd been hunting since you were 17. Always hovering, always over protective. It was kind of sweet...but it was also fucking annoying. Wrapping a towel around your head as you made your way back into your room, you jumped as you saw Dean sitting on your bed. “Dean! What the hell?” You asked, grabbing your robe and throwing it over the tank top and shorts you'd changed into. “Sorry. I just....the hunt...” Dean muttered, his eyes barely meeting yours. “No. Stop right there, Dean. You don't get to spend the entire journey having a go at me, only to then invade my privacy and try and give me some bullcrap excuse.” “It's not bullcrap-" “Yes. It is. And it’s been bullcrap for a while now!” “Well you keep taking these stupid risks-" “Excuse me?” You asked incredulously, crossing your arms over your chest. “I'm a hunter. All I'm doing is my job. And I didn’t hear or see you be like this the other week when Jody told us about the girls and their latest hunt. It's a minor miracle they're all still alive! So this whole thing, this is personal. And I’m drawing a big old blank on what I could’ve done to piss you off, so whatever it is, this is your problem. I thought...I thought we were friends.” “We are, but...” “This is how you treat your friends? Nice, Dean. Real nice.” “We're not just friends and you fucking know it!” Dean yelled, jumping up from the bed. “Wha-" “I...damn it. I....I'm in love with you. And...I hoped...Sam mentioned....well I thought, maybe, you felt the same. Especially after...” “Vegas.” You whispered. “Vegas.” Dean sniffed, and you felt your own eyes well up as Dean crumpled in front of you, dropping back down on your bed and clasping his head in his hands. The annual Winchester vacation had been rudely derailed by a demon taking advantage of all those lost souls, and to get close to him you and Dean had acted as a couple, holding hands and being all flirty. But there was one moment where you and Dean had had to kiss, and it had been one of the top three kisses of your life. “That kiss,” You gently said, crouching down by Dean's feet and gently lifting his head up to face you, “That kiss was spectacular. But, we're friends. And we’re hunters. We don't get happy endings. And I really didn’t want to risk our friendship over...I'm sorry.” “Yeah. Me too. Night Y/N.” You watched Dean walk out your room, and you flinched as the door shut behind him.

Shuffling down the hall the next morning, you winced at the crash coming from the kitchen. After Dean had left you last night, you had tossed and turned all night, leaving you irritable as fuck right now  Turning the corner, you saw Sam crouched down in front of one of the cupboards, the door to it propped up besides him. “Hey Sam. What happened?” You ask, grabbing the half full coffee pot, sighing in relief that it was still warm. “Door fell off. I thought it was loose a few weeks back. Should’ve fixed it then.” “I didn’t even know we kept anything in there.” “We don’t...” Sam trailed off, so you get up from the table and peer over his shoulder. There's a smoothie maker, some tupperware, and...a pile of chocolate bars. “Samuel.  Do you have a secret stash?” “Don't tell Dean.” “I don’t think me and Dean are going to be talking anytime soon, so your secret's safe.” “What do you- Y/N? What’s happened?” Sam asks, concern filling his voice as he takes in the dark circles under your eyes. “I...it. It's complicated. I think..I think I’m gonna go stay with Jody and the girls for a bit.” “A bit?” “Fine. Longer than a bit. I can’t stay here any longer. I’m sorry.” Dropping your coffee cup on the table, you go to leave, but Sam steps in front of you, hands gently grasping your shoulders. “What happened Y/N?” One look at his face, the love and concern in his eyes, and you break down in tears. “Hey. Shit. Hey, come here.” Sam pulls you into his chest, just letting you cry. Eventually the tears dry up, and you let Sam guide you back to the table, and pour you another coffee. Taking a deep breath, you look at him, and start talking. You tell him about last night, you tell him all about Vegas. He stays silent throughout, until you reach the end of your sorry saga, and then he starts...chuckling? “Glad you find this funny Sam.” “I'm sorry. But damn, you and Dean are practically the same person. You’re both as stubborn and pig-headed as each other. Dean...I already knew about Vegas. Dean told me like a week later. And the whole time, I kept thinking, I've never seen him so happy. And nervous. And a little scared, to be honest. But, you need to know. Dean's cared about you in that way long before Vegas happened. But he never said anything. Thought you were out of his league. Which, you are, but still. You said it yourself Y/N. We're hunters. Life for us is crap like 95% of the time. So we have to take our joy where and when we can. For me, that’s treating myself to chocolate. But you and Dean, you can have something so much more than that. Every relationship has risks and dangers. Just because the dangers for you two are more extreme than normal, shouldn’t mean you don’t get to have that happiness.” “Well, shit. You had to do some big, amazing speech, didn’t ya?” “I love Dean. And I love you. And I want you two to be happy. And I think the thing that makes the two of you happiest, is each other.” Slapping his hands against the table, Sam stands up. “Just do me a favour? Don’t leave without thinking it all over first.” You give him a nod, and then you're left alone with your thoughts.

A couple of hours later, and your mind is made up. Sam had stuck his head round the door to let you know he was off on a supply run, and he'd grab dinner on his way. Which meant you had plenty of time to do what needed to be done. Coming to a halt, you breathed deeply...and knocked on the door. “Come in.” “Hi.” You said, closing the door behind you, Dean sitting up on his bed. “Can we talk?” “There’s nothing to talk about-" “I'm in love with you too. I lie awake at night and think about Vegas and how I wish something more had happened. How I wanted to tell you how much I care about you, how much I want you. But.. I was scared. I am scared. We’re hunters. And this life, it’s probably going to end bloody. And I didn’t want to put myself through that pain. Or put you through that pain. But...I was talking to Sam earlier. And...he said we have to take our joy when we can. And that’s you, Dean. You bring me joy. So, I guess what I'm trying to say, what I'm trying to ask, is can we give us a try?” Dean stares at you, and you drop your eyes to the floor, too afraid to look at him. You're about to leave, when you hear him get up and walk over to you. “Hey. Look at me.” Raising your head, you look into Dean's eyes. “Are you sure?” “I've never been so sure of anything.” “OK.” Dean whispers, and then his hands are on your waist, pulling you that one step closer to him, and then his lips are on yours. Your hands grab his arms, the muscles in his biceps clenching as he holds you to him. When you break apart for air, Dean leans his forehead against yours, before his arms leave your waist and he's picking you up, laying you down on his bed. Slowly, gently, he strips your clothes off, his lips meeting every inch of skin that’s bared to him. By the time you’re down to just your underwear, you're a shaking mess underneath him. Pulling his face back up to yours, you kiss him again, the taste of him being an addiction you never want to give up. Reaching down, you grab the hem of his shirt, wanting to feel his skin against yours. With a quick flick, his able hands unclasp your bra, and the first touch of his hands on your tits has you gasping and moaning for more. With a wicked smirk, Dean lowers his head, those talented lips of his latching onto your nipple, one hand coming to tease the other one. “Dean...please.” “What do you need princess?” Dean murmurs around your nipple, giving it a nip before his tongue soothes the slight sting. “You. Always you.” With a groan, Dean stands, undoing his belt as you reach down and pull your panties off, before kneeling on the edge of the bed and helping Dean pull his Jean’s and boxers down his muscular thighs. His cock springs free, and you can’t help but lean in and take him in your mouth. “Ahhhh...shit. Y/N....” Dean throws his head back, and it’s your turn to smirk as you sink down lower, and lower until he’s nestled deep in your throat. “Shit. Y/N...darling you need to stop. I...shit.” With one last swallow, you pull back, Dean pouncing as soon as he's able. His hand snakes between your thighs, honing in on your clit with unerring accuracy. “Dean...God Dean....” “Let me see you princess. Come for me.” His words tip you over the cliff, your orgasm leaving you boneless next to him. He leans in and kisses you, before reaching over to grab a condom. Chucking the wrapper on the floor, he reaches down and guides himself to your pussy. Your eyes flutter open at his first thrust, and you groan out loud. “Shit. So tight. So perfect. Shit.” Dean buries his face in your neck, kissing and sucking as he slowly buries himself inside you. The second he bottoms out has both of you moaning, desperately trying to hold off your orgasms, wanting this to last. “Dean.. Shit. Move, please. I...Oh God...” His hips start to move, yours rising to meet them. Brushing the hair out of your eyes, Dean leans in and kisses you, mimicking the way he’s fucking into you. “I love you Y/N.” “I love you too Dean.” Times seems to stop, nothing else in the moment but you and Dean. Your orgasm builds slowly, and Dean reaches down to tease your clit once more. With a broken moan of his name, you come, shivering and grasping at Dean's back, just with it enough to feel Dean reach his end too. You lay there, not wanting to let Dean go, but eventually he pulls away, dropping the condom into the bin before coming back to the bed and tucking you into his chest. You're just dozing off when Dean's phone beeps, and he leans over to grab it from his nightstand. “Who is it?” You murmur. “Sam. He says we better have our clothes back on by the time he comes back.”

Forevers and evers:

@like-a-bag-of-potatoes  @thing-you-do-with-that-thing  @jayankles  @grace-for-sale  @atc74  @mrsbatesmotel53  @gryffindorofcabin21  @dolphinpink310  @goldenolaf25  @kdfrqqg  @ellen-reincarnated1967  @fictionalabyss  @heyitscam99  @just-another-busyfangirl  @amanda-teaches  @tn-grayson  @girl-next-door-writes  @feelmyroarrrr  @blacktithe7  @masksandtruths  @maui137  @holyfuckloueh  @tina8009  @polina-93  @emoryhemsworth  @whimsicalrobots  @x-waywardaf-x  @be-amaziing  @horsegirly99  @bitterstar88  @hunterswearingplaid  @deangirl7695  @thisismysecrethappyplace  @calaofnoldor  @randomparanoid  @flamencodiva  @beththedemonhunter

The Dean Beans:

@akshi8278  @ericaprice2008  @cuffski  @ruprecht0420  @kathaswings  @deanscarlett  @hobby27  @deanssweetheart23  @yourvoiceislikearose  @wingedcatninja  @pisces-cutie  @mogaruke  @lastactiontricia

[flyswhumpcenter]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled. I don’t have any request left, so feel free to send in suggestions for this card!).

I need to write more Makaito smh

Y'all don't even know how surprised I got to see @mythgirlimagines had sent me a request. Most of all because I rarely get those, but man, that was a good surprise. I had to ask her for another duo (as I know nothing about UDG, not gonna lie), but I always love more Makaito in my life despite the appearances. I always get crazy about the worldbuilding in this AU, but in short: everyone has powers (yes, everyone, even your grandparents). They're called mages. There are three types of mages: weapon users, spell casters and healers. Sometimes there are hybrids between these models (of 2 kinds at the same time). Hybrids are chased by bounty hunters for plot reasons. Maki used to be one, but she's become a "hunter of hunters". I think that's all you need to know for this fic? Oh yeah, this fic contains some French because the main setting, the city of Hellesimbault, is heavily based on French culture. It just made more sense to keep some French in.

It should have been angstier than that, but I was in a fluffier mood today, so here you go. I really need to provide more for this ship.

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Flickering Lights

Summary: The night has never been safe for anyone in the darker streets of the city, yet a duo makes it way through the shadows with vigilent crimson eyes and purple thunder. Still, even the most attention doesn't always give away damage people can take, doesn't it?

Fandom: Danganronpa V3 (magical people AU) Ship: Makaito (Established)

Wordcount: 2.2K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo

AO3 version available here.

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Quartier de la Lune, Hellesimbault, January. The dire cold blew in harsh winds as the dust and garbage littered on the barely lit ground fly right against the ground, their mass never quite taking off. The artificial lights flicker in incoherent rhythms, drilling into the skulls of passers-by with their constant noise you can’t quite get used to, even after hearing it for a while (it just stops being your main nuisance). The rest of the streets leading to the old Moon Temple is sunk in the night’s darkness, with only a few flashes and bursts of clarity piercing through the sea of shadows.

Personally, Nerio was one of these shadows, and had always been. She had gone through everything possible: abandoned girl, orphan raised along the nice and the bad, forced through the grinder to become a bounty hunter, now on the opposite side of the underground war. Hidden under her hood, crimson eyes focusing on any light and ears open to all possible noise, she was used to the darkness.

In fact, she was in unison with the underground, hostile, familiar universe of Hellesimbault’s darkest streets and ruins long buried by modern civilisation.

 In the shadows, she felt safe as soon as she was wearing the mask of Nerio, named after a goddess of war, a bloodthirsty figure in need for a vengeance and taking it out onto bounty hunters with no hope of redemption. It felt good to shoot arrows at criminals like those who had forced her into the network as a preteen whom life hadn’t directly shown its atrocious parts to yet, and it was the one way she had ever felt alive: reclaiming her rotten childhood and early teenage years by showing them she’s now better than them.

She hadn’t quite killed her abductors, even when an untold furry had possessed her into doing so by hindering any semblance of reason she could have had, only because some guy who couldn’t get enough of her had put his hand on Enyo’s shoulder and whispered to her, in a disapproving but paradoxically soft voice:

“Maki, that’s enough.”

 That was the day where she had truly stopped only considering herself as Nerio, bloodstained shadow and reluctant, yet effective, bounty hunter turned hunter slayer, a figure of the shadows, and more like whom she had been during in the daylight all this time.

All thanks to an absolute idiot she had met in class because he wouldn’t stop not wanting to talk to her.

 Their tandem made no sense. She was a figure of the night, a girl shrouded in darkness, content being left alone. Her arms and legs were covered in scars, her hands calloused from handling her magical weapon, her feet permanently threaded with the liquified mana of her former adversaries. Her spirit was calculating, her character quiet, her face always covered with a mask. She never had had friends before high school had come around, before people flocked to her because she had apparently stopped being threatening to some. That was around this time that Nerio started to fade and Maki took her place, progressively, until Nerio was the persona and Maki the person.

If she was used to the horrors of Hybrid trafficking, he couldn’t have. He was a benevolent figure of the day, loud to the point of being obnoxious, rude but well-meaning, never second-guessing anything, acting before he thought. His arms and legs, displayed by much more revealing clothes than her elbow-long sleeves and opaque tights, were defined yet not showing a trace of damage like a recently sculpted statue, his hands were strong but their skin soft, his character remarkable, his face displaying a smile and never hiding anything from sight. He was popular, dizzyingly so, people constantly around him, but he had his inner circle. He had come to her, introduced himself, asked her who she was and, before she realized it, he had accepted her into this inner circle so few would have even dared dreaming about entering in the Cité Scolaire, and that was when her façade crumbled before his friends and him. Before she knew it, Kaito had found himself a night persona, Uranus, who barely was different from the person.

It pained her to have him as her partner for this very reason: he was too good for the shadows, too bright for the darkness, and he’d only be busted before she could save him. She wasn’t ready to lose him to the urban abyss, but he insisted, and his presence was too warm for her not to want it.

 Still, Uranus had impressive fighting skills. His dream to one day be the first mage to reach space and discover if there was a world aside from theirs had pushed him to maintain a perfect form, despite an unfortunate illness trying to limit his life. She’d have expected him to be a weapon user, like she was, but the equivalent to his crossbow life had given him was a cape whom had the powers to create the tiniest blackholes and power up his offensive magic. They were power units in vastly different domains, sure thing, but she was still impressed by how many enemies he could take at once and still win over.

The main issue of their duet was their range: it was too long for close combat. If an enemy was to sneak up on them and force her to switch her weapon for her fists and kicks, there was no doubt she’d have a harder time taking care of them. He was more or less the same: long-range spells, very poor to non-existent support magic, a blackhole strategy that’d be more of a double-edged sword and, of course, his fairly frail constitution outside of his training. Neither was a healer, so they couldn’t possibly count on that either.

 Under the full moon of the harsh January, lights flickering above them like candles on a tomb flowing with the wind, they were fighting against an ambush. A bunch of low-grade Hybrid bounty hunters, eyes staring at them with an indiscretion she was getting tired of, their hands on their weapons and only waiting for the duo to slip up. Nerio wouldn’t give them the pleasure to kill her and take her corpse away for them to get compensation for a murder, so she shot arrow after arrow, ignoring various attempted status ailments thrown at her and gusts of winds repeatedly trying to flip her skirt up. All she had to hide under the hem of her dress were tights and a holster with a material hatchet in case she was in a desperate situation; but using it in front of Uranus felt dirty. It’d be nothing but a cheap shot at life when she had proved to him countless times before she was more than competent.

Their number was dwindling more quickly than her mana, sure, but the fighting was tiring her out, most likely him too, and they had class to attend tomorrow (Kaito had managed to convince her, with the insistence of the overly cheerful Kaede). She’d better make it quick, so she charged her cheapest shots in and didn’t mind the drawbacks of wasting more of her power endurance to quickly put an end to the fight. Rapid-fire, crimson arrows it’d have to be, in the end: not quite her Final Gambit spell, which she was still trying to control, but still one powerful enough to clear through the ranks and through her mana reserves. Any child of the shadows would have learnt that exhausting their magic entirely was nothing more but signing their worse-than-death fate: being forgotten in the icy streets of the underground city.

 Their adversaries were most likely scummy opportunists, because they disappeared after a few arrows had been thrown at them. It didn’t prevent her from exhaling a sigh of relief, the danger of the streets weakening around them as the lights stopped flickering. Too much magic in the air to make the one used by the electric network function properly, she supposed: it didn’t matter this much, to be frank. All she wanted to do was go back home, now that she had exterminated the vermin for the night.

Maki turned her attention back to her partner who, like her, was still transformed into his battle attire. He looked just fine, smiling at her with his darkness-eating grin and a thumbs-up. Giving him a nod, they silently decided to go back to their base, where surely Kaede and Shuichi were waiting for them before going to sleep at last. Despite her earlier loneliness, she felt safe and welcome around their little group, her companions, her friends.

 Yet, despite the peace of hearing nothing but their footsteps and breathing, the mandatory silence of the underground nights pushing them not to speak to each other before they’d safely make it to their home, there was something bothering Maki. It wasn’t the sudden silence: she was used to activity dying down and coming back much, much later, when they wouldn’t be there anymore. Thinking silence was a trap in those uncharted territories was a beginner’s mistake: it was a sign towards the right direction. The narrow walls always made sounds resonate and echo to a hunter’s ears.

It was a smell in the air, the faint smell of iron. It was close to her, yet hindered by something, and she couldn’t quite put her hand on where she had smelt it before. Her confusion merely lasted a few moments, though, until she realized it couldn’t have been anything but blood tainting something, its scent retained by something else, but remaining detectable nonetheless. One source and one source only: the dark crimson puddle she was seeing on her partner’s attire.

 “Kaito,” she suddenly said, stopping in her tracks.

“Hm?” He turned his attention to her, hand mindlessly over the epicentre of the issue. “What’s wrong, Maki Roll?”

“You’re injured, you idiot. I thought you wanted us to tell each other everything.”

Her eyebrows frowned.

“I am? I promised I would tell you everything, Maki Roll, you must be imagining things!”

She knew when he lied, when his voice would sound fake, when his eyes looked too much to the left and when he wouldn’t stop laughing nervously. It disturbed her that none of these cues were there.

“Your hand,” she only said as an explanation. “Look at your hand, you fool.”

 Kaito, luckily, understood immediately what hand she was referring to. He took it off the wound, eyes glancing at his mostly untouched palms, then the growing stain. It surprised it at first, almost sending him in a panic, until he breathed out and ignored the nervous sweat beads pearling on his temples.

“Ah, fuck, you’re right Maki Roll! They must have gotten a hit on me… Let’s get home fast then!”

She felt a tiny smile make its way onto her face.

“I’m surprised you didn’t feel it,” she replied as they resumed their walk, gaze often glancing at the stain. “It doesn’t look too deep, at least, if you can walk this easily.”

“Yeah… Most likely a bad cut. Nothing my sidekick can’t heal!”

“…you’re going to ask Shuichi to heal that for you?”

He blinked.

“On second thought, bad idea. It’ll heal by itself soon enough.”

“That’s also a terrible option. At least put a bandage on that thing, you moron.”

“Got it!”

 His eyes grew wider as he stared at her. Now, that was a look she didn’t like in the slightest: he usually gave it to her when he had a shitty idea to propose.

“Hey, Maki Roll,” he pointed his finger at her arms, “you’re injured too!”

Surprised, she stared at her forearms right afterwards, only to notice he was referring to small bruises and scratches.

“Oh, come on, you know this has nothing in common with what you could have been bleeding from, Kaito. It’s merely a scratch.”

“You should be careful too, then, if you scold me for being careless.

“I know what I’m doing, unlike you, but thank you for the concern.”

“Hey, I know what I’m doing too!”

“Sure, sure.”

 He showed her a hand, palm turned to her.

“Don’t worry, that’s one not stained with blood”. His grin.

She found him ridiculous and beyond cheesy, but took his fingers in hers anyway, enlacing them together.

“As long as you don’t need me as a clutch, it’s fine.”

“Of course I don’t! I’m Uranus, Luminary of the Stars!”

Oh god. He was ridiculous, and such an idiot, but her life had only improved ever since he had arrived there. She could only partially attribute it to his idiotic side, in a way.

“Your predictability is utterly disappointing, sometimes, you know that?”

“I also know you secretly love it, Maki.”

“If you say so. There’s no discussing with you anyway.”

 Right in front of her, he brushed his other hand on his attire’s pants, barely giving her the time to frown in disgusted surprise, and swiped her hood in a swift movement with the back of his hand. All of this to put a kiss on her forehead, a childish peck, that nonetheless makes her cheeks slightly heat up.

“You’re an untameable idiot, Kaito.”

“I’m your idiot, though, Maki Roll.”

She looked away, chuckling despite her best attempts at controlling herself.

“…I know, I know.”

[echoise]

(screenshot of the ask bc tumblr mobile doesn’t handle readmores on asks and I want to be safe w this prompt) thanks to @unlucky-words for letting me borrow Seneca!! I hope I did them justice!! 

Bad Things Happen Bingo #2: Self-harm

he’s trying to help. sometimes he even succeeds. (vague chargestep, nb!sidestep (Seneca!), m!ortega. warning: the obvious, vague suicidal thoughts) 934 words

Ortega narrows his eyes. “What are those?”

Sen looks down, more confused than alarmed at first. The balance quickly shifts as they notice the exposed wrist, sleeve wrinkled at their elbow and not reaching quite as far as they need it to. Stopping just short of their palm, exposing the jagged white lines across their arm.

Fuck.

Ortega steps forward to grasp their arm and Sen panics, worried he might try to pull up the sleeve further. Because if he did, he would see...

Can’t have that.

Sen twists in the hold and slips free easily enough, dancing a few steps back. “Fuck, don’t do that!”

Ortega has the sense to look sheepish, at least. “Sorry.” He quickly squares his shoulders, seriousness descending on his face like a heavy fog. “I’m worried about you.”

Sen pulls the sleeve back down, all the way to the base of their thumb. Covering everything. “I’m fine. Those are... old mistakes.”

There’s an edge to the look Ortega gives them, the kind that makes Sen squirm. “Seneca. I have enough scars to know how to date one.” Date, like some sort of scientist. Some sort of researcher. Sen only barely manages to hold back the snort and let him finish. “Those are new.”

“Well...“ Lying won’t do any good here. Sen sighs, stuffing their hands in their pockets. “Maybe. Look, it’s fine. I’m fine.“

“I just--“

“I said I’m fine, ok?” They’ve raised their voice now. Defensive. Suspect as fuck. But Ortega backs down. Sen almost feels guilty - it’s easy enough, with the hurt sad-brown-eyes-and-long-dark-lashes look Ortega has perfected, the one that’s charmed so many hearts across the city... and dropped more than a few pairs of pants, they’ll wager.

That night, Sen balances the razor on their fingertips, watches it seesaw like some sort of demented scale. Weighing their life and their deeds.

They wonder which way the scales will tip in the end.

The next time they’re over, Ortega pulls Sen to the kitchen. They cross their arms and lean on the sink, doing their best to channel nonchalance, even though inside them is a churning pot of uncertainty and fear. “What’s this then?”

“I’m gonna teach you a trick.“ Ortega flashes a smile over his shoulder, digging in the freezer for something. When he shuts it and turns around, Sen can see it’s an ice cube tray. They arch a brow.

“I hope it’s not juggling, because I’m sure we all remember how that went,“ they joke, trying to ease the tension. It works, somewhat: Ortega throws his head back and lets out a hearty laugh, the kind that fills Sen with warmth and makes it seem like things could be okay. A soft kind of self-deception.

“You’d be surprised now if we tried again,“ Ortega winks, popping some cubes out of the tray. Sen rolls their eyes, but smiles. A small smile that softens the light in Ortega’s eyes, layering the already rich brown with warmth. “Hold out your hand.“

Sen hesitates, but does as asked. They swear as Ortega drops a cube in their hand, keeping hold of the other himself. “Fuck! What’s your game here?”

“Just hold it.“ Ortega has gone serious again. Not a good sign. Sen swallows and watches as he holds his cube up, already melting: tiny drops running down his fingers and palm. “Watch and do as I do.“

They hold their breath as Ortega pulls back his sleeve and presses the cube to his wrist. Right over the veins, over the pulsing dark blue. He slides the cube across his skin, keeping it moving, never stopping to hold it still. “See? Now you try.”

“What’s the point here?“ Sen asks, reluctantly pulling up their sleeve. Just a bit. Just enough to expose the faint lines on their skin, raised bumps scratched across. Only those, not the other kinds of lines they hide under clothes. They contemplate for a moment longer, the fingers holding the cube numb, but finally press it on their wrist. Curious.

“It’s supposed to help.“ Ortega tosses his cube in the sink and steps closer, gesturing at Sen. “Keep it moving. Go over the veins, like I did."

“Help with what?“ Sen asks, doing as instructed. The ice is melting, leaving a trail of water on their wrist. Droplets running down their hand and into their sleeve, making the edge of it uncomfortably damp. The cold touch makes them uncomfortably aware of their pulse, of the blood running through their arm. Causing the hairs on their arm to stand up on end.

“The urge.“ Sen looks up and finds Ortega watching them, concerned, gentle. Wondering if it’s working. Sen glances back down at their wrist, at the cube gliding across. Not unlike a razor, just with less red. The sweet numbness almost the same. Painful enough to be real, but... less harmful.

“...thank you.“ The words almost catch in their throat and Sen blinks furiously, willing the mist to clear. They hear Ortega draw a sudden, relieved breath that turns into a chuckle.

“I hope it helps.“ He’s smiling. He’s hoping. It breaks their heart, because while it helps, it’s not enough. There’s no way it could be. It’s just a temporary relief, like everything is, the pain just less scarring, less visible to others. Maybe that’s what they need - less evidence.

But Sen puts on a smile, their face betraying them and making it actually reach their eyes. Making it feel real. Making them both think that things are just a little bit better.

They really wish that could be true.