#unedited drabble

[absol-may-write]

He’s smiling.

You shuffled in, breath held like it’d kill him if you let it out. The rims of your eyes glossy with fear, tears, but mostly anticipation as you search the room. Wary eyes almost afraid to look at him. And he laughs.

It wasn’t an evil sound. It was soft, breathy. Like you had told him a funny joke. He looked at you with such kind eyes, said your name with a sweetness that twisted your heart into a painful knot. He talked to you like you were still up for that movie marathon on Tuesday and he didn’t just almost die.

You yelled.

And his smile faded. But only for a moment before it was replaced anew. Only this time, with a hint of sadness to it.

> “Hey, c’mon, don’t give me that face. I’m fine. See?”

And he lifted up his unbroken arm to serve as a testament to his still-living body.

You cried. Your fists were balled to your sides, aching to just strangle that stupid grin off his face because he knows. He KNOWS what this does to you. What he does to you. And he has the gall to pretend that everything is fine?

He promised. You reminded him of that fact. You reminded him again and again countless times. And even now, when he broke that promise, you reminded him. And it was this that finally broke that wounded smile.

> “I know. I broke our promise… I’m sorry…”

His voice began to stutter, and tears that were long held back fell down his cheeks.

It was odd. When he thought it was time, that he really wasn’t going to come back, he realized that he wasn’t scared of dying. He was scared to leave you. With that promise he made whole-heartedly broken for eternity.

Deku / Rin Okumura / Yuji Itadori / Tanjiro Kamado / Rengoku / Kafka Hibino / Edward Elric /

[ladiesloveabisexualman]

“What was it you said?” Kit asks Willow. “After you defeated dear ole granny you went —“

“And got pissed!”Willow gleefully shouts as he throws open the door pub. “Drinks on me!”

The gang slumps in and plops down at the only free table. They are dirty and they stink and they fit right in. Arik and Willow go to the bar to order one of everything.

Boorman takes Elora’s knit scarf sweater thing — what the hell is this — and drapes it around his head.

Kit snorts and Jade laughs loud and bright.

“Are you, are you hiding right now?” Kit asks, her glee barely contained.

“I was here some moons ago… broke a few hearts. Don’t wanna cause a scene.”

“Boorman, sweetie, no one is looking at us,” Elora says. She is about to pat his little hand when a delighted voice purrs across the pub.

“Thraxus Boorman! You scamp! Where have you been hiding?” She flounces across the room, trailing scarlet and black lace and holy hell she is gorgeous.

“Hello, Evelyn. Didn’t see you there.”

She drops into his lap. Boorman has never looked more uncomfortable with someone touching him. His crew quickly notice this and their mirth evaporates.

“Evelyn, there are perfectly good chairs —“

“And when have we ever used chairs, Thraxus, darling.”

Kit, Jade, and Elora look at each other. Jade clears her throat.

“I believe he asked to you sit somewhere else,” Kit says placing her hands on the table, ready to rise. Jade cracks her knuckles. Elora tries not to laugh at Jade cracking her knuckles.

“Everything okay here?” Arik asks, setting down a tray loaded with tankards of something foamy. “Here let me get you a chair, my lady.”

Evelyn sits in the chair Arik offers her, and proceeds to flirt shamelessly with him. As the last woman to shameless flirt with him possessed him, he is less entranced than he perhaps usually be. He drinks from his tankard only for Boorman to snatch it out of his hands.

“Get your own!”

“This is my own!”

“No, yours, my prince, is to your left,” Boorman gestures to the untouched ale. Arik laughs a little and then a lot, and soon Boorman joins in and they are laughing so hard they can only cry and shake.

“Oh. I see what’s going on here! My mistake,” Evelyn says when their laughter has finally died down. She starts to get up to flounce to another table but Boorman stops her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, Thraxus, darling, no judgement. I just lack the equipment you prefer. It’s rather a relief, honestly, to find out you’re gay.”

The table is silent. All eyes dart between Arik and Boorman.

“First off,” Boorman snarls,” i’m not gay, I’m bisexual. I’m not interested in having sex with you, Evelyn, because you are TERRIBLE AT CONSENT. Second off, Arik, I’m in if you’re in.”

Boorman drowns his drink, the table dies laughing (it wasn’t that funny but they tired) and Evelyn slinks back to her hole.

The end.

[captainsassmanes]

“DeLuca! What a pleasure.”

“Shut up, Guerin. I need your help.”

His playful smirk fell from his lips as he lowered his pen to the filthy, too tiny table covered with papers decorated with a language Michael was desperately trying to relearn.

“What’s wrong?”

Michael could hear Maria’s hesitance, could imagine her lip pulled between her teeth as she debated with herself one more time.

“He’s drunk,” she finally said, voiced laced in concern with a halo of guilt. “Like, too drunk to stay here.”

Thankfully his keys were sitting in the open instead of buried amongst the endless piles of shit he seemed to be unwittingly accumulating. “I’m on my way,” he practically shouted, already breathless from the jog to his car and the concern clawing at his throat. “Don’t let him drive.”

Maria scoffed. “Thank god you mentioned it, Guerin. I was ready to hand him his keys and a tequila for the road.”

Before he could offer his witty reply, the line went dead, Maria always managing the last word.

He shook his hands out as he stomped through the door, squeezing the steering wheel the entire drive while he practically stood on the accelerator. He caught Maria’s eye who nodded to a dark corner.

Michael swallowed as he moved slowly, through a cloud of smoke and anxiety, toward the head of raven hair laying on the table. He cleared his throat and waited, hoping Alex would sit up and be far more sober than DeLuca imagined.

The lack of response was a clear win for Maria.

“Alex.”

Nothing.

A gentle, careful hand to the shoulder had Alex sitting upright too fast and clumsy, smacking the back of his head with no grace against the wooden booth.

“Fucking ow,” he said to no one as he rubbed his head.

Michael stood awkwardly, hoping Alex would notice his presence sooner rather than later.

When their eyes met, Alex chuckled and shook his head, throwing back the last of his beer and struggling to slide out of the booth. “Not today, thanks Guerin.”

Michael’s confusion was overtaken by worry when Alex immediately stumbled and growled out another curse. Michael caught him before he hit the ground but Alex unceremoniously pushes him off.

“Can you be pissed at me later, and just let me get you home?”

Alex glowered at him as though he was a code giving the captain a hard time. After an eye roll that practically knocked him off balance, Alex sighed.

“Fine. But no talking. Zero. None.”

Michael mimed a zip across his mouth, earning a groan before the two men headed out the door, Maria mouthing “thank you” to Michael before the doors shut.

Michael honored Alex’s wishes and said nothing on the ride to his house, the now familiar ache returning to his hands as he concentrated on the road instead of rapid firing his hundreds of questions at Alex.

They pulled into his driveway, sensor lights painfully bursting to life causing both men to blink and cover their eyes. Afraid to disappoint Alex, Michael sat silently, hoping Alex was sober enough now to make it safely into his house.

“He dumped me.”

Michael felt his jaw drop but couldn’t coordinate his muscles to close his mouth again. Alex sat frozen in the passenger seat, looking small and messy and beautiful in the spotlight.

“He said he wanted something serious with someone who was serious about him.”

With brows furrowed, Michael managed to say, “but you’ve been dating for months. What else did he want?”

Alex laughed, a fake tone that physically hurt Michael’s ears, and bounced his forehead gently off the glass window.

“He wanted me to stop loving you.”

Michael stopped breathing, afraid he’d misheard Alex’s whispered confession, but the silence that hung heavy between them told him the truth.

“I’m so tired, Michael.”

“Hey,” Michael slid his hand into Alex’s, memorizing each crease and callus and cut. Alex turned to stare at Michael, eyes locked as the world around them became fuzzy and somehow unimportant. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

The magic dissolved as Alex shook his head, eyes drifting back out the window while his free hand moved to the door handle. Even in the dark, Michael could make out the blush rising in Alex’s cheeks and painting the tips of his ears.

“Alex, stop. Look at me.” Through those impossibly long eyelashes, Alex watched Michael, nerves radiating off him like waves. “Forrest is a fucking idiot but we can talk about that tomorrow. Tonight, if you’ll let me, I want to help you get inside, take off your leg, get you a tall glass of water, help you into your sweats and hold you til we both fall asleep.”

It was Alex’s turn to lose control of his mouth as it opened and closed wordlessly. Michael bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling at how damn sweet Alex Manes could be.

“Seriously? No sex?”

“Not tonight, Private. I need some good, ol fashioned cuddles and I’m guessing you could use the same.” For the second time that night, Michael’s smug games came up short as he watched a tear slide down Alex’s cheek.

“I’ve really missed you, Michael.” The crack in his voice made Michael want to rip himself open and hold Alex inside til he was whole again.

Instead, he gripped Alex’s hand even tighter and whispered, “I’ve missed you, too.” When he felt Alex’s fingers finally respond to his own, wrapping themselves inbetween Michael’s, he tried once more.

“Let me take care of you, Alex. Let me keep you safe for once, okay?”

With a small smile and an even smaller nod, Alex exhaled.

“Okay.”

[pathfinderlittleduck]

‘I Was a Teenage Anarchist’

Ahnzo and Ali Ryder. Terror team. They quite literally set the Citadel on fire. The twins loved screwing with C-SEC and any sort of authority in the Embassies.

A person with neon purple hair sits delicately at a table, wearing a designer business suit and wingtip shoes. They sit perched over a steaming mug of Irish coffee that had been illegally obtained while typing on their omni-tool.

A similar looking man sat a few tables away. He had bright green hair and sat in the corner, eyeing customers in the cafe suspiciously as if picking through the spoils of a dinner.

The two individuals look at each other with their eyes narrowed. The purple haired and older individual nods in tandem with the man across the floor from them. Are they agreeing to a heist, a dinner, a crime of theft?

The man stands up swiftly from his chair and blue charges begin to swirl around his feet and encircle his hands.

Low and behold! A man several meters away suddenly begins floating a few inches off the ground! But this was not just any man, it was Turian ambassador from one of the Palaven colonies. All he wanted to do was go out shopping while he visited the Presidium commons, and now he was floating a meter in the air, being twirled around like a varren’s plaything.

The individual types away on their omni-tool and suddenly every terminal in the commons begins screeching a feedback loop of static and hisses. When all of a sudden, as if with perfect timing, the green haired man dropped the Turian to the ground with a THUD as the purple haired individual silenced the terminals. Whispers began to circle through the crowds when a loud offensive expletive began blaring through the speakers in a familiar voice. The voice of the Asari Counselor.

Gasps waved through out the multi-cultural crowd like wild fire. The green haired man vaulted himself over a cafe table while the purple haired partner quickly locks the terminals into a loop.

The terror team take off in a mad sprint towards an alleyway outside of the Presidium.

Human, Turian, Asari. Every C-SEC officer ran top speed on the heels of the partners in crime. They twisted and turned down every nook and cranny.

WHAM!!

A sturdy man sticks his elbow straight out with his hand pulled into a tight fist. Down goes the purple haired individual! Soon followed by the green haired younger man tumbling over the body on the ground, tripping and falling head first into the blonde haired Captain.

“Fucking Ryder twins.” The man says as he slams the green haired man against the wall to be handcuffed.

Another officer rounds the corner to see the purple haired partner on the floor, she grabs them by the bicep as her talons dig into the human’s skin.

The twins are dragged away to C-SEC headquarters where they’ll be processed. They exchange a mischievous look at one another, knowing this wouldn’t be their last time wreaking havoc on the station.

[absol-may-write]

Thinking about Cloud Strife…

TW: Suggestive

And how nervous he is when you offer a massage.

The first time he had one at Wall Market, he made noises he… regrets making. He couldn’t help himself, he was inexperienced! But that didn’t make it any less embarrassing.

He’s afraid that once you drag him in there and relieve him of all the tension he has, he’ll make a fool out of himself. Especially in front of you, since the only reason he agreed was because he secretly loves you.

Cloud will try to indirectly worm his way out, but eventually come to terms with the fact he can’t bring himself to leave. Once you start, he’s holding himself back with an ungodly amount of strength. To the point you got worried and asked if you were hurting him. He reassured you that you weren’t.

However, his hopes of leaving with his dignity intact were fruitless. He can tell by the way you look at him that you’ll never forget what you heard. Ever.

[absol-may-write]

Thinking about Cloud Strife…

And him getting the enfeeblement ring stuck on his finger. He was just testing out equipment in his room when he realized the ring didn’t want to come off.

Fuck.

He tried everything. Pulling it off. Hitting the ring against counters. Breaking it. But the stupid thing wouldn’t budge, it didn’t even dent. He would have to get help. But Gaia forbid he asks for it, though. If Barret or Yuffie caught wind of this, he’d never hear the end of it.

That’s why when you ended up at his apartment, checking on him after hearing nothing from him the entire day, you almost flattened him with a frying pan. You mistook him for some monster.

> “Ribbit!” (Wait! Don’t hit!)

There were only so many frogs that sounded like Cloud Strife. It took you a minute, and a little more to laugh, for you to come to terms that it was indeed the Ex-SOLDIER.

> “Oh my god, I should tell Tifa.”

> “Ribbit.”

> “Okay, okay, fine! I’ll keep it a secret, for now. Let’s try to get that off, shall we?”

Little did you both know, it would prove quite the challenge. You spent all day carrying a mini frog-sized Cloud around, which naturally warranted plenty of attention. However, you didn’t seem to mind.

[absol-may-write]

Fate is cruel, isn’t it? | Zack Fair x Reader

TW: Spoilers for Crisis Core and Rebirth!

It’s him, it’s really him.

You don’t know what kind of twisted game the world is playing. A blessing, a curse, you can’t even tell. But as he stood there, eyes so timeless and hair slicked back like all those years ago, it hit. Like an unwanted memory, it came crashing down. And you fell under its weight.

> “Y/n!”

Even his voice hurt. Loud but soft in a way that made you feel wrapped in his strong, warm arms. He was concerned by your sudden collapse, but it fell on deaf ears. You were too focused on the way his voice sounded too close. His presence too real, too warm, too him. You felt like you were dying. Your heart couldn’t take much more.

> “Hey, c’mon, don’t leave me too, okay?”

Since when was that your line? If the world wasn’t spinning, you’d have laughed in the irony.

It seemed like fate, like always, decided to be a little shit. Not only is he an alternate version of himself, but he was brought here to fight alongside you in your own reality. As if what he had gone through prior wasn’t enough. As if tearing your lover away from you the first time wasn’t enough. No.

It had to bring him here, to fight a battle your Zack didn’t get to see. His Y/n, his reality’s version of your friends, are gone according to him. He’s willing to fight with you and your comrades to make sure your reality doesn’t repeat his.

But it can’t be that easy. Fate never made anything easy.

Watching your lover, knowing he isn’t yours, is like tearing your lungs out despite the need to breathe. You so badly want to hug him, to kiss him, to pour out your love and heartache that had been pent up for years. You can tell he wants to do the same. But obviously, that would be wrong, wouldn’t it?

It would be like pretending your dead counterparts were alive, replacing what their final stand meant with a convenient lookalike. The utter disrespect of it is what’s keeping you two from going further, but Gaia does it hurt.

It’s always the littlest things. The way you’d swing your weapon. The way he’d smile. The way your brows furrow when something is still trying to click. The way he’d start doing squats the moment things start getting tense.

It hurts. It fucking hurts, being able to see and not touch. You are right there, just within reach. It feels like fate has handed a second chance on a silver platter. But he can’t, you can’t. All you two ever get is the reminder of who you lost, a constant dagger to make old wounds raw and bleed.

You hate that you questioned what your dead lover would say to just going for it. Why not just ask him? Because he isn’t your Zack! No matter what this one said, you couldn’t believe that he wouldn’t feel the tiniest hurt at the thought of you with another him. You certainly would, despite how utterly selfish that is.

You two can’t believe that this is where it came to, and it’s driving you both mad.

[serendipitousoracle]

Rhys. The Iron Bull. Spaceship. Go.

Goddammit Moss

-

“Are you sure you haven’t seen any demons around here?”

Rhys stammered, mouth trying to get started before his brain could even catch the question. His mismatched eyes hit the Iron Bull’s horns and bounced off, scared to be caught staring. He quickly shook his head. “N-no? I mean-”

The Iron Bull was already turning around to investigate the window that overlooked an unfamiliar star system. Unfamiliar to both of them, which didn’t help. What also didn’t help was the massive battleaxe he was holding casually over his shoulder, as if it didn’t weigh probably as much as Rhys did… as if it couldn’t probably cut three Rhyses in half at once. Maybe six, depending-

“Ohohoho man, cupcake!” Rhys jumped and stifled the squeak from Handsome Jack’s holographic blue form popping in beside him. “I- wow- I don’t know what kind of fucked up alien you just managed to find, but, y’know, try not to get eaten, okay, Rhysie? I’ve still got a timeshare in your braincase and I’m not about to get evicted just because you looked a little too tasty.”

“Now is not the time Jack!” Rhys hissed, and froze when the Iron Bull turned back to him.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” Rhys looked just about everywhere except for at either of the other two in the room with him, now suddenly all too worried about whether the horned giant at the other side of the room ate people or not. As if the axe wasn’t bad enough. He could probably lift Rhys up by the neck with one hand.

Jack whistled, low and sarcastically impressed. “You’re doing great. One hundred percent normal. Keep it up, Rhys! Good luck with that whole ‘avoiding giving the giant alien indigestion’ thing!” Before Rhys could protest, Jack was gone again, leaving Rhys alone with the Iron Bull once more.

Rhys was really starting to reconsider that whole “demons” question.

-

An answer to the “1-2 Characters, 1 AU Setting” askmeme.