#nah what tango wants is scar. like he. he wants him so BAD and i do not know WHY | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

redorich · 3 years

Note

(Hermit Canyon AU)

Eventually, the Hermit seems to get attached to Puffy. It makes sense- it's been trading gifts with her for months now, and has even shown itself to her a few times, albeit while invisible.

The other SMPers don't think much of it at first. The more curious members ask Puffy questions about The Hermit sometimes, but she knows little, so they quickly give up. Occasionally someone will try to explore the ridiculously trapped town, but they give up once it's obvious they're not getting in.

The trades grow more and more valuable, and one day Puffy opens her barrel to find a beacon, and enough iron to fully power it. She's stunned, naturally. To think the Hermit is so capable it can kill a Wither just to give a beacon away- she can barely believe it.

(In actuality, they cheesed it on the Nether roof, but she doesn't know that)

She does try to hide it, but word gets around, and after another few failed raids on the town (and some rumours that the Hermit can teleport), things settle down again, as much as they can on the SMP.

Then someone steals Puffy's beacon. {You decide who, because I. don't actually watch DSMP, admittedly.}

Puffy, naturally, is devestated- she can't imagine the work the Hermit put into getting it for her in the first place (the most time-consuming thing was getting the Wither skulls, and it wasn't even that bad). But there's not really much she can do, so she carries on.

Except, the next day, the thief wakes up to find their house full of chickens, Puffy's beacon missing, and every single empty space in their chests filled with strategically renamed light grey stained glass panes.

They go outside to find the entire contents of a cave spider spawner on their front lawn. Alongside a ravager. With speed potions. Renamed Pamela's Revenge.

(Cue half the SMP trying to find out who Pamela is)

Puffy, meanwhile, wakes to find her beacon back in its rightful place, and a beautifully terraformed garden outside her house (Scar accidentally detonated a creeper and naturally had to fix the hole...and then went a little overboard. But it's fine.)

op i want you to know that i considered just posting your ask, because it’s already So Good and practically a fic on its own, but i really wanted even more content so i wrote it myself. ANYWAY here’s sapnap’s terrible horrible no good very bad day xD

It’s risky, doing anything on the wide open Nether roof where anyone can see. Hell, using a beacon at all is risky for the Hermits. Still, they’ve got all sorts of farms and copious amounts of materials at their fingertips. They’re past early game, stuck in mid-game while they wait for Etho to scope out more locations, while they build the second Upside Down (which Grian has named the Upside-ier Down), while they build their joint bases miles out from civilization.

Having a beacon would make the process faster, they reason to themselves. They certainly aren’t risking being discovered just because they’re bored and getting a beacon is an excuse to do something. And hell, Tango made that giant, super-efficient wither skeleton skull farm right next to his double blaze spawner farm, so they might as well mass-produce Nether stars by killing multiple Withers. It’s not that difficult.

On another note, it’s after they gift Puffy one of their many beacons, in addition to a kit of iron blocks for powering the beacon that the Hermits realize that while their gifts are increasing in expense, Puffy’s are... not. So, if Puffy’s around average in the Dream SMP economy, they’ve figured out where most players meet their limit. She hasn’t stopped dropping by, though, which is nice. Her gifts become increasingly handmade, in lieu of upping the ante on material wealth. The Hermits suppose that hand-crafted items have a value that extends past money. Each and every one of them has something that she’s made for them, whether it be a shawl, a blanket, a set of earrings, a bracelet, or a pair of socks.

Apparently the beacon is more of a Big Deal than the Hermits thought. After all, the rainbow castle has several. However, the Hermits realize that they’ve been shortsighted. While it is true that the rainbow castle has several beacons, the castle is the only place that they’ve seen any beacons.

Sapnap steals the beacon. He doesn’t particularly need it, but he wants it, and stealing is fun. Maybe if he’s lucky, he’ll even start another minor war over it. He hasn’t fought Puffy very much. He wonders if she can put up a good fight.

Puffy’s-- not distraught, but she’s upset. That was a gift from the Hermit, a friend who she’s been pulling out of its shell. She doesn’t have much use for a beacon, but then again, neither does Sapnap; he’s just a dick. Just in case, Puffy leaves a note with the rest of the items she leaves in her barrel:

Dear Hermit,

I’m very sorry for losing the beacon you gave me. I made the mistake of keeping it in a normal chest instead of an Ender chest, so Sapnap stole it. I should have seen that coming. I’ll try to get it back, but if I don’t, please know that I didn’t throw it away.

Thank you,

Puffy.

Sapnap wakes up in the middle of a lake. His mattress is floating, and when he tries to paddle back to shore (once he’s done screaming), the mattress tips over and he receives an unpleasant fishy wakeup call. He trudges into his house for a shower, and finds that the showerhead, as well as all his faucets, have been stuffed with ramen noodle seasoning.

He looks in his chests for a bucket of water. The first chest he checks is not only full of light gray glass, but also trapped. When he opens it, pufferfish fall out of the ceiling and bounce around. He dies to their poison twice before they finally die. The next chest he opens also has light gray glass, no water buckets, and a trap. This one, though, only releases a metric fuckton of chickens into his house. It’s fine. This is fine.

As he looks through his chests, he realizes something. They’ve got glass in them, sure, and they’ve been raided of water buckets, but... the beacon is gone. None of his other items, like enchanted netherite tools or literal diamond blocks, have been stolen. Just Puffy’s beacon.

Whoever pranked him missed a bucket, so he promptly dumps it over his head in an effort to smell less like pond scum and spicy chicken noodles. It takes the whole day to get his base back in order: he’s got to clean out all the faucets, empty all the glass from his chests, throw out all the dead pufferfish, and slaughter chickens by the dozens.

He can’t sleep. Are you fucking kidding. He can’t sleep. A soft hiss catches his attention, only audible now that the quiet of night has fallen. Is there somehow an unlit cave under his base?

Nope. As he steps outside onto his front lawn, he sees a daylight detector near the door that he missed when he came inside this morning. The daylight detector seems to have released approximately fifteen bajillion cave spiders onto his lawn, and they’re all angry, so he shuts the front door in their faces and goes back inside. That’s a problem for tomorrow’s him.

Horns spear the wall right next to where Sapnap was standing five seconds ago. He yelps. What the fuck is a ravager doing on his front porch? And why the FUCK does it have speed potion particles?!

<Georgenotfound> who is pamela’s revenge

<Sapnap> ;RVAER

<Sapnap> HELP

<Sapnap> RAVEAGER

<Georgenotfound> good night sapnap :)

<Sapnap> GEORGE OYU BITCH HLEP ME

<Georgenotfound> zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

-------

Puffy sees a whole lot of nonsense in the chat when she wakes up in the morning, and promptly decides to ignore it. She goes about her morning as usual, heading out to her front porch to sip a cup of coffee in peace.

She... has a garden now. Hm. That wasn’t there before. And come to think of it, neither was the beacon she lost.

“Thanks, Hermit,” she says with a smile.

-------

Stress sips a cup of tea, having breakfast in Grian’s rustic sitting room with a few of her fellow Hermits.

“D’ya think we went overboard?” she says.

“...Nah,” Cub says.

#mcyt #hc x dsmp #hermit canyon au #captain puffy #goodtimeswithscar #ethoslab #grian #tango tek #sapnap #georgenotfound #stressmonster #stressmonster101 #cubfan135 me.cpp #rayveewrites

672 notes · View notes

maryqueenofmurder · 4 years

Text

Impulse x Grian x Ren

Part 1: Impulse x Grian x Ren

Part 2: Impulse x Grian x Ren

Part 3: Impulse x Grian x Ren

Part 4: Impulse x Grian x Ren

Part 5: Impulse x Grian x Ren

Part 6: Impulse x Grian x Ren

News about the new couple and how they got together spread quickly. Hermits would thank and congratulate Impulse on finally setting up the two. Somehow it didn’t feel as good as he thought it would.

Impulse had been feeling down recently. That was why he was sitting on top of Tek To The Skies at five AM. Ren and Grian had been the epitome of a happy couple since they got together, and it was starting to grate on his nerves. It felt like there was a pit in his stomach that he couldn’t get rid of.

Impulse had started avoiding the hippie camp when he could. He’d miss out on campfire sessions by showing up late or not at all. When he was at the hippie camp, he’d work on his redstone projects. Since Grian and Ren were so caught up with each other, progress had been slowing. They couldn’t afford to let Area 77 get ahead, or they may never catch up.

This had all been taking a toll on Impulse’s health, mental and physical. He never had the best sleep schedule, but he was perpetually tired now. Balancing all his projects was never easy, and he had to make sure they were perfect, as the tiniest mistake in redstone could render the whole thing inoperable. He was irritable from missing his friends and lack of sleep. Impulse had been spending more time with Tango and Zedaph recently.

Despite trying to avoid the hippie camp, Ren, and Grian as best he could, Impulse kept ending back up there. He tried to tell himself that he was just avoiding the suspicion that would come with not showing up, and that he needed to keep Area 77 on its toes, but really he just missed his hippie friends too much to stay away for too long.

Impulse heard the faint sounds of rockets, which grew louder. Tango landed nearby Tek to the Skies, and walked towards. He was probably going to restock it. Impulse debated saying hi. It didn’t matter what he decided, because Tango caught sight of him.

Tango got closer to the shop, glanced up, continued walking, then did an impressive double take. As it was, Impulse barely cracked a small smile. Tango backpedaled, then stared at him for a moment.

“If you’re waiting for a certain builder to get his supply of rockets, I’m afraid you’re a few days too early.” Tango called up.

“Nah,” Impulse said. “I’m just sitting up here.” Tango frowned. He flew up top and sat down next to Impulse. Tango kicked his legs slightly, before leaning back.

“What’s wrong?” Tango asked.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Impulse objected. Tango snorted.

“Which is why you’re sitting up here at five in the morning.” Tango said.

“You’re here at five in the morning.” Impulse said.

“I am restocking. You are just sitting here.” Tango said.

“Just. Feeling weird, that’s all.” Impulse admitted.

“Are you sick?” Tango asked, leaning away slightly.

“No. Feeling weird emotionally.” Impulse said.

“Okay. Let’s see if we can sort some of these feelings out.” Tango said. Impulse nodded hesitantly. “Okay. How about the whole Hippies versus Area 77 thing you guys have got going on?”

“I don’t think Doc and Scar should take other people’s property.” Impulse stated immediately. Tango raised an eyebrow. “It does make things kind of awkward when we run into each other.” Impulse admitted.

“I’ve noticed that you’re doing a lot of redstone projects. Well, a lot of redstone projects for the amount of other things you’re doing as well. Maybe you’re overstressed from that?” Tango suggested.

“I am stressed, yeah, but I’ve been stressed before, and this? This isn’t it.” Impulse said.

“What about Ren and Grian getting together?” Tango asked. He was determined to get to the bottom of Impulse’s troubles!

“They make me feel kind of sad, but happy? Bittersweet, maybe.” Impulse sighed. “Just. Weird.”

“Sounds a lot like someone’s jealous~” Tango snickered.

“I mean yeah, kinda. I’m worried that… that they won’t have time for me anymore, now that they’re dating.” Impulse said slowly.

Tango sat forward. “Don’t think like that. They may be in the honeymoon phase of their relationship, but they’ll still have time for you. Even if they get a bit caught up in each other. You might have to third wheel for a bit, but it’ll be fine.” He reassured Impulse.

“I just- We have to redefine the boundaries in our friendship now. Whether we’re friends first and lovers second or not. Will they need time to be together without me? I don’t want to intrude, or mess things up and lose them.” Impulse was distressed, and spilled his troubles to Tango like water from an upturned pitcher.

“Hey, what’s the matter? You didn’t act like that when Zed and I got together… Did you? Did you just hide it from us?” Tango was disturbed and worried that Impulse had been hurting and he -they- didn’t notice.

“No, I didn’t. I guess I was more… assured? Does that make sense? I knew that you guys wouldn’t exclude me, you just had something else with each other that wasn’t friendship. Unless you guys had the mother of all blowouts or something then we’d all be friends, even if you two broke up. I haven’t known Grian and Ren for as long, so I’m worried their relationship might break our friendship. Or that I might, with all my weird feelings about them.” Impulse confessed, worried.

“Okay. Let’s start with the weird feelings part. Do they make you nervous?” People were usually nervous around crushes, Tango told himself, and, well, Impulse did seem to be crushing a bit.

“No. Not usually. Sometimes one or both of them will do something that makes me flustered, like Ren grabbing my hand, or Grian’s smile, but they don’t often make me nervous. It feels nice to be around them.” Impulse said, smiling the whole time.

He is head over heels. Tango mused. The strength of Impulse’s feelings surprised him, even though he thought there would be something there.

“It’s probably because they’re hot.” Impulse mentioned offhandedly.

That blunt comment threw Tango for a loop. For a second all he could do was stare at Impulse, dumbfounded. It also, unfortunately, caused his internal monologue to briefly become his outer monologue.

“What!?” Tango squeaked. Impulse had outright admitted that he found them hot. Was he seriously that oblivious?

Impulse gave him an odd look.

“I’m comfortable enough in my own sexuality to say that they’re hot. I’m bi, not blind. That’s probably why I get nervous around them sometimes.” Impulse said.

“Well, how do you feel about them, then?” Tango asked another question, just to confirm.

“I just feel comfortable with them. Like I could be open and vulnerable, and they’d protect me. It feels like we fit together so well, like three parts of the same whole. Like I’ve known them for a long time.” Impulse admitted. His lips unconsciously formed a grin.

“Well, Impulse, that sounds a lot like a crush.” Tango said. Hopefully Impulse will be receptive to the idea, if I say it bluntly enough.

“I don’t know, I want to hold their hands, and cuddle, and listen to them talk. About their day, the things that interest them, their ridiculous flirting I would love to take part in-” His eyes widened.

“I do have a crush on them. Ugh.” He buried his face in his hands. “Why. This is awful.”

“It can’t be that bad, Impulse.” Tango said concernedly.

“I set my two crushes up together. My two crushes are dating. I am going to be so awkward around them that they’ll eventually decide I’m too weird and gradually stop talking to me and the Hippie Camp will fall apart and I’ll never see them again-” Impulse had started spiraling at this point.

“Hey. Calm down. You know they wouldn’t do that to you.” Tango placed a hand on Impulse’s back. “Breathe.”

Impulse sucked in a heavy breath. “You’re right,” He muttered. “I need to have faith in them.” Tango pulls Impulse into a hug, holding him close, and Impulse finally breaks down. Later he’d have to face what he’d done and figure out what to do next, but for now he was content just to cry in Tango’s arms.

#grian x impulse x ren #impulse x grian x ren #hermitship #impulseSV #grian #rendog #Ren #renthedog #impulse #my fanfiction #fanfiction #sorry i fell off the face of the earth after i finished my final project for writing class #i'd say 'it won't happen again' but lets be real it totally will

61 notes · View notes

purplepersnicketywrites · 5 years

Note

I found this post and I really love the prompt so it goes like this "you're unfairly good at everyhting but I'm strong enough to carry you bride-style and this for some reason renders you speachless" I'm sorry it's not a nermaid thing.

It doesn’t have to be a mermaid thing! You’re good! I just thought it would be On Theme for the month dfshgdfg

ANYWAY YES THIS IS A TOP-TIER PROMPT it’s,,, Kirishima @ Bakugou tbh

so um. it might have taken a while to write this but have like, a whole 4k fic? i don’t know how to drabble,, apparently,,,

Eijirou was in love.

Okay, well, maybe that was a little over-exaggeration of his feelings. Maybe it was being dramatic - especially since he wasn’t actually with the object of his affections (yet) - but dramatic suited his would-be suitor.

Or, Eijirou thought. Am I the suitor?

It wasn’t like he was actively persuing anything… Whatever, the point was that Eijirou was desperately in love with one Bakugou Katsuki, his long-time best friend and the owner of his entire heart and most of his soul. And who could blame him? Bakugou was perfect.

It might not be an opinion that everyone shared of the blond bombshell. He was prickly and wore an almost permanent scowl. He was the grumpiest, grouchiest bastard that Eijirou had ever met. He swore liberally, was unapologetically self-confident almost to the point of arrogance, and he exploded stuff. He’d been even worse when he was younger.

The thing was, as Bakugou’s best friend, Eijirou saw the other side of him, too. Where Bakugou’s walls were raised high around him, he’d carved out a small door for Eijirou and a few of their closest friends to let them in.

Where most saw Bakugou as a unfriendly and standoffish guy, Eijirou saw the introverted young man who was shy and just didn’t want to admit it. Where most heard the blistering language that rolled off of Bakugou’s tongue, Eijirou heard the Bakugou who was bad with words and at a loss for how to really express himself. Bakugou was way more into physical expression than verbal. He didn’t like to talk about feelings or ‘gross sappy shit like that’.

Most people didn’t bother trying to get through Bakugou’s walls to see the part of him that really, truly cared about people. It had been a stunted, shrivelled sort of thing when Bakugou had started at UA. Now, five years later and two into actual hero work, it was like a tree in full bloom. Bakugou cared, in his own way.

His drive was unparalleled. Once Bakugou Katsuki set his mind on something, god, he was gonna get it. Eijirou didn’t doubt for a second that he’d snag the Number One Hero spot at some point in his career. Bakugou inspired Eijirou, he always had.

Bakugou was also absolutely, mind-bendingly smoking hot. Which, you know, that didn’t hurt Eijirou’s attraction to him one bit.

One of the things that Eijirou found most appealing about his friend was his sheer level of competency. In like, any situation. Eijirou would think that maybe they were stuck on something - in a hopeless situation, on an investigation, anything, really - and then Bakugou’s face would do the thing. He’d get one of his special thinky-faces on, the one that meant he was trying to remember something. Then his eyes - bright and shiny and the most gorgeous deep red - would widen slightly as he pulled on all the strings inside his head and found himself weaving up a thought.

Bakugou would bark out a laugh, one of Eijirou’s favourite Bakugou laughs because this one meant I’ve got it, we’ve won, and proceed to obliterate whatever their obstacle was. Bakugou had done a whole lot of things, somehow. He’d done ballet and acrobatics in addition to martial arts to shape his movements as he fought. He was musical. Origami swans had saved their necks twice, somehow, and Eijirou had nearly died for other reasons that one time Katsuki had had to teach him how to tango for that one undercover mission they’d gone on. Both of them had worn awful wigs. Eijirou remembered the mission fondly.

One thing that Bakugou Katsuki still wasn’t great at doing, however, was knowing when he was beaten. Kaminari often joked that Bakugou had no off-switch. He never stopped.

Not even when his leg was cut up from hip-to-calf and there were seven other heroes on the scene.

“Don’t make me call timeout on you, Zero,” Eijirou growled, holding onto Bakugou’s shoulder to stop him rushing after the villain that Eijirou was pretty sure Battle Fist had already smacked down into the ground. Bakugou tried to keep walking. “You’re bleeding. Like, badly.”

“They can stitch it later,” Bakugou said, eyes darting around.

Eijirou narrowed his own eyes. “Once you’ve passed out from blood loss, you mean?”

Bakugou glared at him and tried to shake Eijirou’s hand off his shoulder. “Don’t mother-hen me, Red.”

“Oh yeah,” Eijirou huffed, doubling down on his grip. “Because not wanting my partner to drop ‘cause he’s being stubborn is unreasonable.”

“Exactly,” Bakugou said, raising one hand. It was already popping a little. Was he going to try and blast Eijirou’s hand off of him? He ought to know that wouldn’t work by now.

Eijirou sighed. “Well, if you’re gonna act like a baby about it… It’s timeout time.”

Bakugou only had time to frown at him before Eijirou was scooping him up into a bridal-style lift. Bakugou squawked and let off a couple of bangs from his hands. They achieved exactly nothing.

“Let me go, you bastard!” Bakugou snapped. He wasn’t wriggling too much, though. His leg must have been really painful. Eijirou tried not to jostle it. “Put me down!”

“Nope!” Eijirou said, and he looked around to see if he could see any medical assistance. If not, well, the hospital wasn’t too far from here… Bakugou folded his arms over his chest and pouted. Good, he’d accepted his fate.

There were no medics set up around here, so Eijirou set off at a light jog towards the route to the hospital. He could feel warmth dripping down one of his arms and grimaced to himself. Bakugou really was losing blood, huh? He was lucky that the villain hadn’t caught one of his major blood vessels.

It didn’t take very long until the hospital was in sight, and Eijirou glanced down at Bakugou, who was staring fixedly at his own knees with a weird expression on his face.

“Hey man, you holding up?” Eijirou asked, wondering if Bakugou was in more pain than he’d thought or like, fainting or something. He shifted Bakugou’s weight in his arms a little.

Bakugou nodded, flushing pink? “Just get me to the docs already.”

“You got it, dude,” Eijirou said, jogging around the hospital building until he saw the sign for A&E. People moving outside the hospital caught sight of them and ogled. Man, they were probably both covered in blood, huh? This’d probably make the news.

It was worth it if Bakugou was okay, though. Eijirou was beginning to get worried - his friend had gone pale again, paler than he should be, and quiet, too. Quiet and Bakugou did not mix. He sped up a little and then all of a sudden he was at the desk in A&E.

“Uh,” Eijirou managed to get out, but the receptionist had seen them coming and a doctor was already rushing over.

“Over here, Red Riot,” the doctor said, showing Eijirou to a free bed. He laid Bakugou down on it as gently as he could. Nurses swarmed under the doctor’s direction, and before Eijirou knew what was going on, he was being bundled into a waiting room chair with a shock blanket and a mug of cocoa.

He texted Mina to go to his and Bakugou’s apartment to pick up some fresh clothes for them both as she had a spare key, and then he was just waiting. He offered himself as a blood donor - as an O-Neg he was a universal donor - but the doctors had deemed it unnecessary. They had plenty of blood for Bakugou to have. That was good. He thought that they had probably stitched him up by now, and maybe even used a medical quirk.

“Red Riot?”

Eijirou looked up. One of the nurses from earlier stood in front of him. “Oh, uh, hi! How’s Ground Zero doing?”

“Good,” said the nurse. “His injuries have been treated and he’s currently being given painkillers for it. He is currently asleep, but would you like to sit in with him?”

Eijirou glanced down at his soiled clothes. “Am I allowed, with all of this gunk on me?”

“His injuries have all been cleaned and dressed, so unless you try to remove any of them, I think you’ll be safe,” the nurse grinned. “Follow me.”

Eijirou did. He was led through a few different corridors and into a ward with individual rooms. The nurse pushed one door open and then there was Bakugou. He looked a lot cleaner and was a far better colour than he had been. Eijirou let out a sigh of relief and went to sit on one of the visitors’ chairs.

“Thanks,” he told the nurse, who smiled again and left the room after telling Eijirou to yell if anything was amiss.

Eijirou stared at Bakugou’s face. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

One of Bakugou’s eyes cracked open. “Yeah.”

“Huh,” Eijirou said. “No arguing with me any more? Those painkillers must be strong.”

“I’m so fuckin’ high right now,” Bakugou agreed. “Sorry.”

“Apologies, too? Man, I should keep some of this stuff and slip it to you the next time you get too grumpy.”

Bakugou grinned at him. “Nah, ya like me when I’m grumpy.”

Damn, well, that was true.

“Yeah, I do,” Eijirou said, and prodded Bakugou’s chest. “So stop ending up in here. This one’s gonna leave a real nasty scar.”

“Mmhmm,” Bakugou said, closing his eyes again. “Sooner I rest up, sooner I’ll be cleared to leave this fuckin’ place. So shut ya trap.”

“Charming,” Eijirou said with a snort.

“I know I am,” Bakugou mumbled. “Shut up.”

Eijirou patted Bakugou on the shoulder. “Yeah. I’ll be here when you wake up again, yeah?”

“Better fuckin’ be,” Bakugou said, and then his face dropped into the genuine relaxation of sleep.

Mina was a goddamn lifesaver. She had brought them their clothes, informed Bakugou that he was a moron for making everyone worry about him, and then swept herself off with no wriggling eyebrows or probing about Eijirou basically gluing himself to Bakugou’s side. She had also taken away their dirtied costumes ‘to be burned’.

The hospital staff had given Bakugou the A-Okay to head home (and rest his leg, which Eijirou was going to have to enforce, somehow). Now all they had to do was physically get out of the hospital.

That was easier said than done.

“I do not need a fuckin’ wheelchair,” Bakugou insisted, despite the fact he wasn’t really supposed to walk in case his stitches ripped. He had woken up on the wrong side of everything, let alone the bed, and now that they’d taken him off the strong painkillers the reality of his injury had settled in.

Eijirou was losing his patience with his friend. “Stop swearing at the staff, Bakugou.”

“I do whatever I damn well please,” Bakugou spat, glowering. “Fucking antibiotics, feel like shit. I’m allowed to cuss, I’m an adult.”

“It’s not professional, man,” Eijirou said. “What if a kid in the hospital hears you? They’re gonna repeat what Ground Zero says.”

“It’s education.”

Eijirou’s mouth threatened to twitch up. No! He wasn’t amused!

“Dude,” said Eijirou. “You suck.”

Bakugou scowled at him. “You wish.”

Eijirou took a moment for himself to scream internally. Being head over heels for this man was incredibly testing at times. He had a suspicion that Bakugou knew, from comments like that, but he could never be sure. Eijirou pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you going to get into the chair? Or are you hoping that you’ll start spontaneously levitating?”

“I just don’t want the press to get me in one of those things,” Bakugou said, pouting to the side.

“There’s literally nothing wrong with being in a wheelchair, Bakugou,” Eijirou said.

Bakugou scoffed. “Of course not! But the tabloids’ll overreact and make out like I’m dying or I’ve lost my leg or some stupid shit like that. It’ll affect the rankings.”

Eijirou sighed. Bakugou narrowed his eyes and Eijirou held up his hands. “I get it, bro, the world is stupid. They probably already got me carrying you in here covered in blood, though. I could carry you back out again?”

“And do what, carry me the whole way home?” Bakugou snapped.

“Sure, why not?” Eijirou shrugged. “If it gets you out of the hospital.”

Bakugou glared at him. “Why n- We live three fuckin’ miles away, dipshit!”

“And?”

Bakugou blinked. “And that’s a fuckin’ long way to go if you’re lugging someone along with you.”

“Not really, ‘cause I’m like,” Eijirou paused to reorganise his words. “I’ve definitely carried more than you for further before.”

“Excuse me,” said one of the nurses. “So will you be using the wheelchair or not?”

“Not,” Bakugou said.

Oh, wait, so the carrying thing wasn’t hypothetical. Okay.

“Alright, let’s go then,” Eijirou said, walking over to where Bakugou was sitting with his legs dangling over the side of the hospital bed, signed discharge papers in his hand ready to give to reception. Eijirou tried to pretend that his heart wasn’t thundering in his chest. He failed.

No use agonising over it! Eijirou scooped Bakugou up. Bakugou slung one of his arms around Eijirou’s neck - for balance, probably - and lay the other with the discharge papers over his lap.

“You good?” Eijirou asked. Bakugou nodded. “I’m not grabbing your cut, right?”

Bakugou shook his head.

“Comfy?” Eijirou asked. Bakugou nodded. Okay, that was weird, he’d gone quiet. And slightly red. Was that like, a symptom of something, or? “Cat got ya tongue, man?”

Bakugou went pale, and then red again, almost like some kind of squid thing that Eijirou had seen on a wildlife documentary once.

“Ba-”

“Just go already,” Bakugou muttered, scowling at the papers he was holding.

“Alright,” Eijirou said, thanking the nurse and striding from the room.

“Home, sweet home,” Eijirou said, setting Bakugou down for the first time since they’d left the hospital. They weren’t quite in yet, but Eijirou did sort of need to unlock the door. He kept ahold of Bakugou’s arm to make sure he stood in one place, and then the door was open and he was picking Bakugou up again.

So what if he was enjoying all this extra contact? Sue him.

“Sofa or bed, Bakugou?” Eijirou asked, and Bakugou jumped slightly in his arms. He’d have his Thinking Really Hard face on all the way home and had barely said a word.

“Sofa,” Bakugou said. Eijirou set him down and Bakugou leant back into the cushions with his Thoughtful Scowl on again.

Eijirou sat next to him, breathing out a sigh of relief that they were finally home and mostly back in one piece after the fight today. Eijirou had dealt with knife quirks before - on his hero debut, even! - but while his quirk protected him from the worst of any sharp things, it meant that he no longer really got aimed at and it was harder for him to take hits.

Man, if the knife villain had gotten Eijirou? He’d’ve come away from the battle totally unharmed and desperately seeking a new pair of trousers or something. But no. The villain had got his best friend instead, and now everything was going to be a hassle for a while. Patrols without Bakugou didn’t suck, but they did get a little dull, and Eijirou would always be worrying that Bakugou had fallen over or something and injured himself more without anyone around to help him.

“You wanna get take out tonight?” Eijirou asked. He was gonna order it anyway because he didn’t want to cook and he wasn’t gonna let Bakugou do it. Bakugou grunted - probably in agreement - and Eijirou realised that he was still on his no-talking thing. “Dude, what’s up?”

Bakugou levelled a glare at him. “Take a wild guess.”

“Nuh uh, that ain’t gonna fly,” Eijirou said. “You’re moping, or something. Injuries make you angry. You get louder. Not whatever this is.”

“The fuck do you know?” Bakugou grumbled. Eijirou reached out and whacked Bakugou’s shoulder lightly.

“I know you, man,” Eijirou said.

“Ugh,” Bakugou said. “I guess you do.”

He was still looking at Eijirou, expression shifting and shifting so quickly that Eijirou couldn’t keep up. Bakugou’s thoughts must have been racing - and for such a quick-thinking guy that speed must be intense.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Eijirou said, launching into his usual get-Bakugou-to-open-up-about-things spiel. “But I’m here for ya, Bakugou.”

“Yeah, you are,” Bakugou said, face moving into a frown. Huh? “Why?”

“What?”

“Why are you here?” Bakugou asked. “Why do you want to be here?”

Well, this was not exactly the conversation Eijirou had envisioned having… Like, ever. “You’re my best frien-”

“That’s not what I meant, Kirishima,”Bakugou growled, cutting Eijirou off with a glare. What, was Eijirou not giving the right answer to his vague and nebulous question? “It- Ugh. What do you want from me?”

Eijirou blinked. “What? Nothing.”

“No, there isn’t nothing,” Bakugou snapped. Huh? Eijirou didn’t understand what Bakugou was saying. Was this just from all the pain meds, even if the loopy ones weren’t being used any more? Did Bakugou think that Eijirou was only hanging out with him for… For what? Personal gain? What would that even be? Years of friendship (and feelings) down the line and Bakugou thought this? Bakugou clacked his teeth together and frowned harder. “Stop- Stop thinking whatever you’re thinking.”

“Wh-”

“No, fuck, let me just,” Bakugou grimaced, looking off to the side. Oh, this was some weird feelings thing, wasn’t it? No wonder Bakugou wasn’t making any sense. Eijirou still felt tense, but not quite as alarmed. “You carried me home for three fucking miles, Kirishima! What do I- How the hell am I supposed to- Ugh!”

Oh, Eijirou thought he could see the picture of things, now. “You don’t need to give anything back to me for that, Bakugou! It’d be selfish to ask for you to repay me for something I volunteered to do!”

“Well, maybe you should be,” Bakugou said. Eijirou tilted his head. Bakugou glanced at him and away again. “Be selfish, I mean! You’re always fucking giving. Giving and giving and never taking a single thing back for yourself and it drives me up the fucking wall!”

Eijirou shook his head. “There’s nothing I need from anyone that I don’t already have.”

“What about what you want,” Bakugou said. He fixed Eijirou with his stare again and something in his expression made Eijirou’s stomach do somersaults. “Is there anything you want from me that I could give you?”

Eijirou met Bakugou’s burning gaze.

Everything, his brain supplied.

Bakugou’s eyes widened slightly, and Eijirou realised that he’d said the word aloud. Before he could even think about being horrified, Bakugou’s scowl slipped from his face. It was replaced by a triumphant grin.

“Oh thank fuck you finally said it,” Bakugou said, leaning over into Eijirou’s space. Eijirou could feel his whole face burning. “‘Cause if I never got the chance to tell you how god damned hot it is that you can carry me in your arms for three fucking miles without even breaking a sweat, I think I would’ve died.”

Eijirou couldn’t provide a response to that. His lips were occupied, all of a sudden. With Bakugou. Because Bakugou was kissing him, and kind of insistently. Eijirou allowed himself a few more moments to be utterly confused, and then he wrapped his arms around Bakugou and kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm as Bakugou was putting in.

“That’s a little dramatic,” Eijirou said, when they parted to breathe.

Bakugou snorted. “You know who you’re dealing with.”

“Mmhm,” Eijirou said, kissing Bakugou again and finding himself delighted by the way he reacted. When had Bakugou crawled into his lap? “Uh… We should probably talk about this.”

“I’m fuckin’ crazy about you. We’re dating now. That enough talkin’ for ya?”

Probably not, but- Bakugou kissed him again. And again. And again. Eijirou laughed into the kisses, and began to run his hands down Bakugou’s sides. “Wait, um. So does this make you my boyfriend, Katsuki?“

“Fuck, yes,” Bakugou said. Or should it just be Katsuki now? Yeah, Eijirou liked the sound of that. “You- Ow! Watch it!”

Eijirou winced, pulling his hand away from Katsuki’s hip. “Oops! I forgot! Are you okay?”

“Dumbass,” Katsuki said, but fondly.

“For the record, I’m crazy about you, too,” Eijirou said, taking advantage of the lull to speak. “I’ve been kind of head over heels for you since school.“

“I know,” Katsuki said. Oh.

“Wait,” Eijirou raised an eyebrow. “You knew? Like, since when?”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. “Since forever. You’re not subtle.”

Eijirou blinked. “What? Then- Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I dunno,” Katsuki said, pulling himself back to lay against the sofa cushions again. “I was confused about it for a long-ass while.”

“So, you’re not confused any more?” Eijirou asked. It didn’t really need to be asked, given the way that Katsuki had kissed him just now, but Eijirou wanted everything out in the open.

“No,” Katsuki lifted his good leg and prodded Eijirou’s chest with his foot. “I’ve been flirting with you for like, a fuckin’ year now. Thought it’d finally spur you to action but noooo, you have to be all self-depreciating and second-guessing shit all the time.”

“A year?” Eijirou said, feeling his mouth fall open. His brain scanned through all of their recent interactions - there was a lot to sift through. Oh, that explained a few things. Eijirou put a hand over his face. “God, I’m an idiot.”

“Yeah,” Katsuki said. He beckoned Eijirou over with a finger. “But you’re my idiot now, so come here.”

Eijirou crawled over him, mindful of Katsuki’s injured leg. Katsuki hooked his arms around Eijirou’s neck and drew him into a languid kiss.

“I love you,” Eijirou said, feeling a shiver down his spine as the words left his mouth. Wait, fuck, it was too soon for that and Katsuki was probably going to-

“Holy shit,” Katsuki said, turning bright red. “Fuck- Fucking warn a guy if you’re gonna say something that sappy!”

“I’m sorry, I, uh-”

Katsuki slammed a hand over Eijirou’s mouth. “Don’t you fucking dare take it back, Eijirou.”

Oh, Eijirou thought. That was the first time he used my given name.

“I,” Katsuki swallowed, his flushed face darkening further. “I love you too.”

The shiver that followed Katsuki’s statement dwarfed any he’d experienced previously. It felt like his soul was on fire. Eijirou didn’t know how to respond, so he kissed Katsuki again.

“I love you,” he said, pressing his lips to Katsuki’s jaw. “I love you,” he said, kissing Katsuki’s cheek. He continued, saying those three words over and over and peppering kisses all over Katsuki’s face. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Katsuki grinned, happier than Eijirou had ever seen. He could feel Katsuki’s fingers running through his hair at the back of his head. “Fuck, I love you. So fucking much.”

Eijirou pressed their foreheads together.

“Katsuki,” Eijirou said, but not for any particular reason. He just wanted to say Katsuki’s name.

“Eijirou,” Katsuki echoed. “We still have to order food.”

“Oh, right!” Eijirou sat up.”Whaddya want?”

“You.”

Eijirou flushed. “Babe. Er, can I call you that?“

“Fuck, call me whatever you want,” Katsuki said, matching the shade of Eijirou’s face. “Curry?”

“Curry it is!” Eijirou said, climbing off of Katsuki and the sofa and making his way over to the phone to call their usual place. He rattled off their order, maybe a little quicker than usual. Once it was confirmed, he put the phone down and turned to stare at Katsuki.

Katsuki looked back at him. Eijirou didn’t think he’d looked away, and that was just. It was something. Eijirou’s stomach flipped and flopped. Katsuki patted the space next to him on the sofa and Eijirou made his way back over. No sooner had he sat down, than Katsuki’s arm circled his waist and pulled him close. Katsuki buried his face into Eijirou’s shoulder, and Eijirou echoed his hum.

“Wish you’d wised up sooner,” Bakugou said, voice slightly muffled. “Coulda been doing this for fuckin’ ages.”

“Well, we can do it now, and as much as we want,” Eijirou said, twisting to press a kiss into Katsuki’s hair.

“Mm,” Katsuki mumbled, pushing his face down harder. “Wanna post something mushy on social media?”

“Shouldn’t we run it by the PR team, first?” Eijirou asked.

Katsuki looked up at him. “Fuck that. Tell the world you’re in love with me already.“

Eijirou grinned, because he did.

#kiribaku #bakushima #fanfiction #my fanfiction #drabble #?#reply #anon #ask meme #sort of #i swear half the stuff i write is 'and then they smorched on a sofa'#'and ordered takeaway'#hm #this was practically done for DAYS it took me ages to come up with a good ending line #BUT I DID AND IT'S HERE WHOOO #i'm gonna chuck this on AO3 in a bit but i don't have the energy for writing tags atm

202 notes · View notes

rendiggitydog · 5 years

Text

Blast From the Past

The start of a mini-series!

-Chapter 1/7-

The blast from town center sent a shockwave across the whole world, sending the hermits into a frenzy. Almost instantly, the group chat was flooded with messages, and hermits flew from all corners to the scene.

A large crater had appeared in the shopping district, in front of the statues of Tango and Cub. The smoke was still clearing as everyone peered over the edges of the hole.

Xisuma, feeling confident his armor could protect him from possible foreign substances, slid down the sides of the pit, hopping over rocks as he made his way to the center. The smoke began clearing, and a figure could be seen lying in the rubble.

"Hello?" X called cautiously. "Are you alive?"

"I'm real knackered..." The figure sat up slowly, revealing himself to the onlooking group. He sported a big black moustache, with messy back hair that brushed the tops of his ears. His shirt evidently used to be blue, but wasn't anymore, and his jeans weren't much better. His shoes looked nearly worn through on the soles. With wide eyes, he observed the large group watching, and then turned to X. "Where did- how- who are you?"

"My name is Xisuma, what's yours? Where do you hail from?"

"Name's MJ. I think I got too buzzed, this is a wild fever dream..." He glanced at the group peering over the side of the hole, and examined X's armor with skepticism. "You'd think I was a swigger, the things I'm imagining..."

"You aren't imagining anything. This is Hermitcraft! We all live together and have fun. Shall we climb out of this hole, then?"

The pair made their way out of the crater, where Joe met them with a glint in his eye, but a worried expression. "Howdy MJ. It sounds like you're from the 1950's, am I right?"

"Yeah, '51. Ya make it sound like it isn't '51?" MJ wrung his hands.

"No, it's 2019. How bizarre..." X mused.

MJ ran jittery fingers through his hair. "Man, this blows. I don't- and there's- colors everywhere, and- and you're all just like me-"

"I mean, I don't exactly look like you," Doc chuckled.

"Nah, you don't get it. Where I'm from, I'm it. Sometimes ya run into a pig- a creeper if you're unlucky, but that's it. The whole world is grass and trees, as far as the Farlands. It's quiet, being the only one... aware." MJ went quiet, rubbing his arm.

"So you live in a Classic world... How interesting..." X began pacing unconsciously.

"Are you sure it's Classic? He knows creepers, weren't they added in Indev?" Joe quizzed.

"Nope, Classic. Depends on the version, but he probably knows pigs, sheep, zombies, skeletons, spiders and creepers."

MJ nodded at the only words he understood in their conversation. He was still fairly certain he was dreaming.

"Also, he's using 1950's American slang in a British accent- that error was removed in early Indev."

X nodded quickly. "You're right, I forgot about that."

"Can we all get to bed? We don't want phantoms killing MJ, who knows where he would respawn." Scar pulled out a couple beds, which hermits promptly hopped into.

"Phantoms? Why we gotta sleep? Are The Phantoms a gang?" MJ asked quickly as the rest of the hermits led him to the Stax-4-Stax Tavern.

"The longer you go without sleep, the more phantoms spawn, and they're deadly." Grian explained. "When was the last time you slept?"

"....never?" MJ watched the dark sky anxiously.

"Oh yeah... Let's get inside, quick!" Grian shoved him inside. The phantoms screeched, making Grian chuckle and MJ shudder.

—

The next morning, MJ was full of chaos and concern. Now fully rested for the first time in his life, he began to realize his situation. He anxiously danced around the small room of sleeping hermits for a few minutes, before he mustered enough courage to creep out the front door.

There was so much color in this strange world- even the grass looked different from what he knew. His head spun on a swivel as he took in everything he possibly could.

He started low, running his fingers through the long grass and smelling the colorful flowers scattered across the ground in front of the building. A chicken wandered across his path, so he decided to follow it wherever it went.

The chicken, followed by an intent MJ, meandered to the shore by the ocean, which MJ noted, was filled with seaweed and assorted swimming creatures.

As they wandered further inland, MJ drifted away from his chicken guide, stunned by the variety of blocks in the buildings towering around him. He poked his head into a red striped building, but ducked out just as quickly when he couldn't name the shiny blue rocks or cylinders in the wooden boxes.

As he stepped out, however, something shot over his head with a loud explosion, sending him to the floor in a panic. The creepers were in the air, too?

"Heya! Enjoying my store?" A man fell out of the sky holding one of the striped cylinders. His hair was golden and shimmered in the light, along with his bright red eyes. His ears and teeth were pointy, and his combat boots completed the intimidating look. "What are you doing on the ground?"

MJ glanced around carefully, motioning the man to crouch down next to him. "There are creepers flying around here!"

The man gave him a blank stare, then laughed, standing up again. "Oh man, that's priceless! You mean me? Using a rocket to fly?" He pulled out a so-called rocket, and it exploded in his face, sending MJ into another fit of shakes. "It's okay, they're harmless!"

"You can fly?" MJ asked cautiously, afraid the answer might include more explosions.

"Let me show you!" The man crouched down, preparing another rocket, but stopped when he saw MJ's petrified expression. "Well, maybe we should start smaller. How about the Cherry Store?"

The man, who MJ learned was named Tango, lead him patiently to another store, this one made of wood. Wood was more familiar to MJ, although this wood looked entirely different to what he was used to.

"Look, this stuff is called redstone," Tango explained, displaying a nicely packaged bag of redstone, ready to be purchased. "You can make lots of hardware with it, which you can use to make machines!"

MJ opened the bag, running his finger through the red dust. Some of it sparked, glowing slightly. "What can you make with the parts?"

"Well, you can start small with an automatic fish farm, or you can build an iron titan, or you can make something like Sahara! Let me show you, it's super cool!"

Excited again, Tango led the way to Sahara, a large building in the side of the hill. After showing MJ the interface, they staircased up to the second level to get a look at the modules.

"Iskall made all of these himself- crazy, right? Grian tried to help, but he's definitely the builder of the Architechs," Tango laughed.

MJ walked down an aisle, marveling at the large machines. They were made of small parts MJ couldn't name, but he knew they were made of redstone. It was all incredible, but MJ didn't understand a bit of it- he considered himself more of a builder anyway.

"Oi! Trespassers!" Grian, as MJ remembered from yesterday, soared through a broken window. He smoothed his wild sandy-blond hair, a wide grin across his face.

"Don't mind us! I'm just showing MJ around!" Tango waved.

"Oh! You should come see my base, MJ! It's super cool!" Grian bounced excitedly. He had a lot of energy, MJ gave him that. Not usually his cup of tea in friendships, but beggars can't be choosers.

"I'll leave you two to it then! Xisuma wanted me to work on some code with him today anyway. See ya!" Tango flew away with another explosion, causing MJ to jump.

"Hm, I suppose you're not much of a flyer, huh?" Grian observed. MJ simply shook his head. "Guess we'll boat over!"

MJ carefully stepped into the boat Grian made, with Grian clambering in after him. They rowed out into the bay, MJ watching as the shore faded into a shimmer at the horizon. "Here we are!"

MJ turned around and was stunned by the white building towering over them. Grian hopped out of the boat onto a glass bridge, motioning MJ to follow. He carefully did so, being sure his shoes were dry enough that he wouldn't slip.

"This is my base! Sorry it's kind of a mess, I have a chest monster problem," Grian giggled and soared down into the center of the tower. He rifled through a couple of the chests (as MJ had just learned they were called) and flew back to MJ with arms full of mysterious items. "Here's a starter kit!"

Grian tossed the items on the floor and sorted through them, giving MJ a run-down. "So that's full iron tools and armor, a stack of golden carrots, a stack of torches, and an elytra with rockets to get you started! Does that look alright to you?"

MJ nodded, entranced by the items- especially the strange golden carrots.

"...You don't talk much, do you?" Grian stared into his eyes. Despite his brown eyes being almost black, they sparkled with love and innocence.

MJ cleared his throat. "Ah, I guess I'm still feeling a lil buzzed from... however I got here." He shrugged, carefully picking up the gifted items.

Grian opened and closed his mouth several times, and then settled with a confused smile. It looked strange on his usually-energetic face. "Feel free to set up your base anywhere that's open. If you have any questions, don't be afraid to text anyone." He handed a small black box to MJ, which he held with reverence. "It's a phone- just press the name of who ever you wanna talk to."

"Thanks," MJ hesitated. "By chance are you a greaser? You don't have any beef, do ya?"

Grian cocked an eyebrow. "Maybe? You won't need any beef though, the golden carrots are way better for your health."

"...are you booted, dog?"

Grian blinked. "I think you have different slang in Classic, because I don't know what that means..."

"My bad. Just, nevermind. I'll leave ya to it. Thanks for the setup!" MJ, embarrassed, hopped in his boat and paddled off, avoiding eye contact with Grian. The guy was weird to say the least- MJ wondered if that was why he lived in the ocean alone. Hopefully he hadn't killed his reputation by talking to Grian, and he could find a more helpful person tomorrow...

#rae writes #blast from the past #grian #xisuma #hermitcraft #joe hills #docm #goodtimeswithscar #tangotek #mumbo jumbo #dont worry the 50's slang eases up a couple chapters in #lol

46 notes · View notes

macbetha · 5 years

Text

Bad people get lucky.

Haru endured overdoses, gunshots wounds, and complete devastation only to wake up to a new life with an angel of a man smiling down at him. He was given a soul that he never deserved but he tries to live up to the excellence of purity, like Makoto, though it’s like trying to rival God – perfect. But God takes care of old dogs, drunks, and devils. Justice for all just isn’t fair. The women’s prison in Iwatobi makes for brutal living conditions, especially for those on Death Row. Capital punishment is new to the city, especially for females, and Haru would be conflicted about it were he not sitting in the outdoor visitation center with someone who deserves to die far more painfully than lethal injection. Miho Amakata survived like a Lazarus of her time. Corro’s bullets didn’t hit the right organs and Haru’s gun couldn’t land home in her brain. The fall from the rafters might have paralyzed her but she sits in her wheelchair like a throne and Haru hates her for it. His only solace is that she’s doomed to agony as long as her heart keeps beating - bones didn’t heal right and his bullet might not have killed her but it left her with a forever-migraine, which is worlds of satisfying. Her delusions are a nice touch, too. She mulls over their conversation, taking a pull of the cigarette Haru gave her as a bribe. She lost an arm to amputation – it was mangled from burns, shriveled up. There’s no left foot and she lost layers of skin on one side of her face, leaving behind bubbled scars. One iris is moonlit with blindness. An eye for an eye. After a minute, she says, “Nah, you’re not a good man. People can’t do what you’ve done even with what you’ve been through. But you try. That’s all that matters. Don’t see why you do it though.” Haru works his jaw, chin scrunching. “Wouldn’t expect you to.” Miho’s eyes flit upward. “You know better than anyone that you don’t win fights by being soft. That’s all life is – a fight.” She rolls her cigarette between two fingers, holding it more gently than she ever did her own children. “We’re all just pigs in a slaughterhouse, all of us.” When she faces him, Haru sees that she’s peeled every lash from her waterline in a fit of nerves. Miho’s voice falls to a dreamy whisper of grandeur. “But imagine being the wolf. That slaughterhouse is suddenly an endless feast that’ll last you forever.” Haru physically resists the urge to recoil, but he never cowers away from her stare. “What happens when the farmer barges in with a gun? He’ll shoot the wolf, not the pigs.” She snorts, pursing her colorless lips around the cigarette. “Those pigs will die anyway and they won’t go out as nicely as a bullet to the jaw. They spend their little lives miserably, packed together so tightly in trucks that their guts pop out of their asses.” She says this like she’s imagining it, but not in the disturbed way that she should – it’s as if she’s admiring a profound piece of art. “They’re considered the lucky ones if they make it to that slaughterhouse where they’re burned alive in a scalding tank.” She shakes her head, entirely pleased. “And all that wolf got was a bullet.” Miho watches him in half-lidded pensiveness as she takes another drag, her eyes sunken and swollen all at once. She keeps looking at him even as she taps out her ashes, and he watches them fall like snow into the yellowed grass. “Must be hard for you,” she sighs. “Knowing I’m going to die so quietly by a sweet little injection when all you want to do is gut me in the street. I bet you fantasize about it – I see it in your eyes.” Her voice is not that of antagonizing smugness; it’s a strange indifference that speaks of faint curiosity. Haru has thought of nothing else for so much of his life, but thinking the world was rid of Miho only to be sitting across from her years later – it’s violating beyond comprehension. He says, “There’s no point in wasting my thoughts on you.” Though he does every day – he’s trying, at least. Miho gives a considering hum, a shrug in her mouth. “Don’t know anything better you have to think about.” She looks him over, the breeze struggling through her matted hair. “You’re not the type of person who trusts peace; that’s just the calm before storm after storm.” She gazes at the tree line beyond the towering fence, squinting in the beating sunlight. The glare beats off the chrome in her wheelchair and sweat creases her frown lines. “Peace is such an empty promise. You won’t get anything as quick as a gun to the mouth if you trust it.” A hazy smirk twitches her lips. “You walked into the scalding tank the moment you walked into your husband’s arms.” She snorts, taking a pull and croaking through the smoke, “Well, more like he did.” A wave of heat clenches his muscles, hugging his lungs from all sides. “Don’t you fucking talk about him.” “Fine, sorry.” He reels when he should be adapted to her disturbing mood swings. Miho lifts her brows. “I’m not saying he’s a bad person – he’s good and that’s why you’re wrong for him.” Haru won’t argue with that but he doesn’t want to hear such words coming from the devil herself. Miho leans back, rolling her wrists on the armrests. Haru could slit those dark veins open so easily, so quickly. Miho says, “I think about him almost more than I do you. What kind of person could have a heart so hungry that they’d rip themselves open, just for you?” She gives him a knowing look. “A good person. Just another little pig.” The acidic burn of nausea rolls up his throat because he can’t do this, he just can’t. But his whole reason for coming here was to protect Makoto, and that is the only way he can stay composed instead of collapsing to scream into the dirt. “But anyway, to answer your initial question,” she says, “I don’t know anything about a gang that used a scorpion as its figurehead. Iwatobi’s always had a system: Bloodhounds owned the outskirts, Rough Rabbit claimed the railways and the slums, Honeyblade had all the pussy in the city. Freebird was the blood of Iwatobi – veined every alleyway with floods of the best vice, and Diamond Back simply did whatever they wanted, but not too much of it. They’d rather have their hand in a little bit of everything than pool their fortune into girls or drugs.” His shoulders drop. “So there’s never been any others?” “Not with our level of influence, no.” Her voice tightens in gleeful depreciation. “There were brief tries: the Bladefang bears, the Redback gators. All attempts were as pathetic as their names. The streets were painted in thug guts and they were quickly forgotten.” “But no scorpion.” “Not from what I remember, no.” Her eyes crinkle in a smug squint. “And I know everything.” She takes a drag and hisses out the smoke through her teeth. “You sound like you haven’t even considered that this could be a new gang.” He shakes his head, at a hopeless loss. “There’s no gangs in Iwatobi anymore. Nobody would be brave enough to try something like that after we all fell years ago.” She startles a laugh that makes him jump. “No gangs in Iwatobi?” Her chuckle tapers off with pity. “Oh, you broken little bird. There is no Iwatobi without gangs. We are our own world.” She tips her head, considering. “This is actually the easiest time for a newcomer to rise to power now that all of you are out of the way.” In a last desperate attempt to find clarity, he says, “Have you ever heard of Hiyori Tono?” “No and I’d remember if I had.” She casts a glance at the prison’s silhouette. “Remembering is all I do nowadays.” Remembering the thirst for blood, Haru’s sure. “He’s a distant relative of Pietro’s. He just came to Iwatobi.” “Then he’d have nothing to do with any gang that isn’t Diamond Back, dear. Even if he doesn’t want it, his loyalty is only in being a viper; it’s in his blood no matter how ‘distant’ he is.” She sucks the last pinch of the cigarette. “If this new gang is threatening enough for you to ask me about it, I’d advise that you get ready; doesn’t seem like they’re intimidated by the fall of the old gangs. They’ve learned from your mistakes – possibly. Time will tell if they’re in it for shortfall glory or if they were made for this life.” He’s too defeated to say anything; he hopes that he’ll be able to stand under the weight of devastation, but the heat has drained him. Makoto told him to be careful about getting hot when his iron is so low. Haru should have listened – he always should have listened. Miho’s frown grows anxious but it’s merely her wearing the expression as a mask of learned behavior, just like all sociopaths do, but the worry in her voice is… confusing. “Are you afraid of the threat or what you’ll have to do about it?” “I’m not doing anything about,” he snaps. “I’m done with all that, with – all of it.” She rolls her eyes in exasperation before sobering up. “You won’t die,” she promises. “When the time comes, you will do what is necessary without hesitation.” He flinches when she cups his cheek, her thumb rasping over it. She smiles. “Because I made you. You’re my little wolf. You will die so sweetly with your husband and it will be everything you always dreamed of – when you’re old, when you’re sleeping.” “You said he was a pig.” “Mm, not with you,” she says. “Not when he’s got you like this.” His eyes widen as she leans closer, her whisper that of a mother’s fondness. “You will die like a wolf. I’ll make sure of it.”

When he gets home that night, the dog rushes him as usual - Tango yips and scrambles up so fast that he trips on his three legs, but he snuggles up to Haru’s knee and he chuckles. He pats his ears before toeing off his shoes, balling up his jacket and tossing it in the direction of the coat rack because he is just too tired to unearth a fuck to give. He adjusts Makoto’s flannel tighter around his middle, hugging himself as he rounds the entry corridor. He follows the soft flush of gold lamplight to the living room and is greeted by a gentle surprise. Makoto sits on the floor with Namiko, her back to him as he frowns at the iPad screen. He squints behind his glasses. “Nami-chan, how’d you even find this braiding tutorial? This is like, thirty minutes long.” She kicks her feet with an impatient huff. “Papa said I could watch somethin’ on his iPad and I heard Gou-chan talkin’ ‘bout how Daddy used to braid her hairs, so I want it too.” “Hair, just hair.” Makoto snorts, a grin twitching his mouth as he weaves his fingers through the complicated twists in her white curls. “And what did Daddy say when you told him that you wanted him to braid your hair?” “He cried. No, Nami baby, just come color my tattoos instead! He felled on the couch like a princess. Papa tried, though.” “And?” She puffs out her chest and scrunches up her face, hardening her voice. “Nami, my hands are too big for this, you know Papa can’t do these pretty things. C’mon, let’s play with your dollhouse. I think he likes dolls more than me. He likes my ponies mostest.” Makoto sings a laugh, eyes crinkling shut. Haru leans on the doorframe, tipping a dreamy sigh with affection all warm in his chest. Makoto pinches his tongue between his teeth and ties off her hair, saying, “Well, you’re lucky I’m the braiding champion of Iwatobi. I’ve been doing Ran’s hair since she was little like you.” He flips the braid over her shoulder for her to see and she grabs at her hair with absolute stars in her eyes. “That good enough?” “Yes, yes!” She looks up at Haru and kicks her socked feet, pointing the end of her braid at him. “Hi, Haru-chan! Look!” “I see,” he grins, padding over to them. Makoto smiles from the floor and squeezes Haru’s ankle in greeting before Haru bends down to peck his hair, cradling the back of his head. Namiko makes grabby hands for him and he props her on his hip with a grunt, knees wobbling before he braces them. “You look very pretty.” She’s fit to burst into light, she beams so hard. Makoto leans back on his hands and one of the cats makes use of the open space in his lap, curling up as Makoto glances at the clock. “Namiko’s spending the night, so I think it’s time she goes to bed. Rin left her some pajamas in the bathroom.” “No,” she groans, flopping onto Haru’s chest with every bit of Rin’s dramatics. Haru hides his smile in her hair and takes her to the bathroom, leaving her to change. When she comes out and he takes her hand to lead her to the guest bedroom, she tugs him to a stop. “Wanna sleep with you.” She digs her toes, clad in footie pajamas, into the carpet. His brows crease, cradling her hand a bit firmer. “Are you scared?” She worries her lip messily, big eyes cast to the floor. “I like sleepin’ with Daddy. He comes 'n gets me out of bed when Papa goes to work so I sleep with him.” He frowns. “Rin comes and gets you at 3 in the morning?” Haru’s brother is working a brutal shift right now. She blinks and replies with the matter-of-factness only a child possesses. “I don’t know. I’m 6. I can’t read clocks.” Haru chuckles to himself and leads her to the master bedroom. “Fine,” he sighs, picking her up since she’s not tall enough to climb the mattress herself. “But don’t steal my blankets.” Namiko sticks her tongue out and snuggles under the covers, hugging Haru’s pillow to her, of course. Before he can leave, she perks up. “Can I play your phone?” “You need to –” “Just ten minutes! It’ll make me sleepy.” Haru gives her a flat look and she whines, “It’s Saturday, please-zuuh.” He rolls his eyes before tossing his cell at her. She catches it with a wicked gleam in her eye but pouts at his home screen. “You don’t have Toca’s Hair Salon?” “… huh?” “It’s a game Papa keeps on his phone for me.” She wiggles back into the pillows with a huff. “I guess I’ll play Candy Crush.” “Don’t beat my high score,” he says, and she smiles. Namiko never looks like her mother when she smiles, but Haru never saw Ookami happy much. He wanders back into the living room to plop in the floor with Makoto, resting against his side with a long sigh, trying to purge the day’s tension out in a breath. Makoto nuzzles his cheek against the top of Haru’s hair, rubbing a comforting hand down his arm on the way to intertwine their fingers. Haru’s very heart gasps when their rings click together. “How was work?” “It was work,” Haru huffs, snuggling deeper into Makoto and hugging his arms around him. Haru closes his eyes as fingers play with his hair, ghosting across the back of his neck with pleasant shivers. “Why’d Rin bring Namiko over here so late?” Makoto grimaces as he unwinds his hearing aid cord to rub the sore spot behind his ear. Haru pushes his hand away to rub it himself and Makoto’s shoulders drop with a hum, leaning into the sweet touch. He mumbles, “I offered, actually. Him and Sousuke needed to go out and have a break with everything going on. Sorry, I know you’re stressed out –” “It’s fine.” Haru continues to caress the soreness, contentedness sinking over him in the safe quiet of their home. “It’s good to hold a kid every now and then; makes me feel better.” Makoto smiles, eyes tired but always shining for Haru. His voice hushes to a conspiring tone and Haru leans in because he loves nothing more than husband-gossip time. “Rin seems really worried about that Mikoshiba girl.” “Sei’s sister? Why?” Makoto shrugs, tracing Haru’s hawk tattoo as he does every evening. “She’s just really out there and you know how protective Rin’s been of Gou like – well, her whole life, but especially since she turned sixteen.” He straightens his right leg, adjusting his prosthetic with a wince. “Gou’s spending the night with Ran tonight and Ran wouldn’t lead her wrong but she also knows what it’s like to grow up kind of isolated like that.” Haru mulls it over, sneaking a hand under Makoto’s shirt to rub his back, the skin bumpy with rivers of scars. “Maybe it’ll do some good.” “That’d be nice,” Makoto chuckles. His smile stays even when his laughter fades and his eyes are already closed when Haru leans in, guiding Makoto’s jaw down to find his lips. At the touch of his mouth, Haru takes a slow, deep inhale through his nose, his pulse drumming like a song. Makoto catches his mouth again with a soft smack that sounds so intimate that Haru’s face flashes hot. He pecks the swell of Makoto’s lower lip once more before leaning back just enough for their noses to brush, his eyes dark and half-lidded. “You still feel –” He swallows, breathes, “So good.” They close their eyes as their foreheads rest together, a smile curling Makoto’s whisper. “Some things never change.”

#BOYS I MISSED YOU SO MUCH #ctd #chasing the dragon #free! fanfic #makoharu

82 notes · View notes