#flashfics

((note: i KNOW who sent this ask and i know that this esoteric bullshit caters specifically to him and his philosopher's soul. all the flash fics will NOT be like this i PROMISE)) ((oh also: gender neutral reader. tw: really tryhard fauxtellectual philosophy)

“You’re different when you’re out here.”

Togami hums. His back is to you, and he’s sprawled out on the couch. “You say that every time, darling.”

“I know.” You look at him, arm limp, dangling just barely off the floor. It’s uncharacteristic. That’s the best word you have to describe it. You wonder if anyone else has seen him like this. “It’s true, though, isn’t it? That’s why you’re out here.”

Dehya's reaction was much less dramatic, but considerably more insulting. She looked between the two of them, raised an eyebrow and stared at Alhaitham.

"He can do much better than you."

(It was pretty clear who she meant.)

For a moment, it felt as if Candace believed them. She clapped them on the back and smiled sweetly; her happiness was palpable, as well as sincere.

"I'm glad you two get along well enough that you can joke around like this now! You've come a long way," she said.

Somehow, neither of them had the heart to correct her.

@grootiez requested a fic about Groot going through the terrible twos! 

----

“Groot!” Peter snapped his fingers in a futile attempt to get the tiny plant’s attention. Baby Groot, spared the human a glance but continued sticking his little vines into Peter’s soup and splashed the purple liquid around.

“Just take the bowl away!” Gamora suggested, sheathing her blade and sitting down beside Peter in the Milano’s cramped dining area.

“What, no! I’m still eating it!” The human protested. Groot squealed and aptly dunked his entire face into the lukewarm stew for a moment before looking up and grinning. Gamora rolled her eyes and snatched the bowl away, letting out an exasperated sigh. Green vines attempted to grab the food back but Groot’s little viens could not grow so rapidly as of yet. Seeing his defeat the flora colossus crumpled his face and let out a shriek to shatter glass. “Cease that insidious crying!” Drax demanded, covering his ears as he stormed through.

“Groot!” Peter tried again, watching as the little monster climbed down from the table and stalked over to doorway, pelting Drax’s boots with his small wooden fists. As per usual the Destroyer walked briskly passed him. “Groot! You can’t have soup if you’re going to just play with it!” Groot turned to Peter, sticking his tongue out and ran over to a small metal box that had been lying on the disheveled carpet for weeks. Gamora swooped in, snatching it away and examined it gingerly. “Rocket,” she spat. “I thought we told him not to leave his weapons lying around after that Tractian detonator incident.” Peter stopped trying to corale Groot for a moment and looked up,

“Oh you mean that time Groot almost blew us all up? Where is Rocket anyway? He should be dealing with this,” Peter gestured to Groot who continued to scream and knocked over a low-lying rack of Xandarian spices.

“Groot!” Peter stepped over to the little tree, “Listen, dude. What were we even talking about?” He waited for a break in the tree’s tantrum. “You can’t just stab people’s hats off their heads! Especially when those people hire us to do a job for them!”

“I am Groot!!!” Groot squalled, hurling a spice can at Peter’s head. Gamora huffed, hands on her hips.

“How long is he going to be like this?” Drax grumbled something in agreement. Peter shouted over Groot’s escalating screaming.

“Well, they don’t call it terrible twos for nothing! Where is Daddy Trash Panda?! This is his problem! He..” The words were stolen out of Peter’s mouth as a vine swatted him across the cheek. Groot wailed angrily, small fists pounding against the human’s shins. “That’s it!” Said human fumed, he picked Groot up, careful to dodge the kicking legs and spindly vines. “You are going in time out! It’s bad enough you almost got us all killed. We told you Ugrats wear hats before we even did the job!” Evidently Groot did not think that made much of a difference. He fought and cried and hit all the way down to the cargo storage.

“I am Groot!”

“No! This is a time out! You stay here until I come get you!” Groot pouted, Peter could almost laugh at himself. There was no way the little flora colossus was going to obey.

“Ey!” Came the familiar husky, irritated growl. Rocket rounded the corner goggles over his eyes and tools at his belt. “What’re you doing?” Groot grinned though his wet tears,

“I am Groot!” He sobbed, pointing at Peter. Rocket removed his glasses, glaring at Peter.

“You hit him?!” Rocket snarled, baring his teeth.

“Yes! Wait! No! He hit me!” Peter looked at the self-satisfied flora colossus, to the raccoonoid and back at Groot. Groot shoot his head,

“I…I am Groot!” He sniffled pathetically. Rocket pulled off his gloves, gently picking Groot up and placing him on his shoulder.

“Rocket he hit me!” Peter reasoned. “He almost got us all killed with that Ugrat boss and then he stuck his face in my soup, destroyed the kitchen and beat on me and Drax! It’s not even noon yet!” Rocket shrugged,

“He doesn’t like hats.”

“That’s not the point! How long is he going to act like this? You let him get away with everything!” A protective paw went around Groot, “I do not!”

“How long is he going to be like this Roc?” Peter inquired, a touch of desperatism to his voice. Rocket glanced at his best friend, a flicker of sorrow in his gaze that made Peter feel as though he got kicked in the gut.

“….I don’t know…” Rocket managed, swallowing hard. He placed a now calm Groot down on the floor.

“It’s…” Peter tried to recover, “it’s fine. He’s just going through the terrible twos.”

“What’s that?” The raccoonoid demanded.

“It’s just a phase when kids are really terrible. He’ll grow out of it.” Rocket smirked, watching as Groot ran over to the wall and tore off the metal sheeting with his vines.

“When exactly will he grow out of it?” Sparks flew, followed by a dim in lighting.

“Groot!!!” Gamora yelled from somewhere above. Rocket chuckled, Peter smiled.

“I am Groot?”

“Yeah your probably in trouble,” Rocket translated, crossing over and picking him up once more. The little tree struggled but only for a moment, until he snuggled against Rocket’s chest, eyes getting heavy.

“Well looks like he’s finally sleepy, thank the stars.” Peter muttered, mentally calculating how much Groot damage he could fix within the two hours of nap-time before the baby flora came and undid it all again. He looked up, seeing Rocket barely swaying from side to side, patting Groot on the back and looking down at the little thing with a mixture of love and grief. Peter put his hand on the raccoonoids shoulder softly. To his surprise, Rocket didn’t shoot him.

“We’ll get through it Roc.” Rocket shrugged off the hand.

“Whatever Star-Jerk.” Without another word he walked off, Groot in his arms. Peter watched the two of them go,

1) Jyn goes into security. She grew up not quite spoiled, but privileged; her father was high enough in the science command that she was respected but not so high that she was envied. As a child, she never noticed that her father never looked happy, going to work; that her mother held onto her necklace and whispered stories about the times before the Empire, of the Jedi and dissent. As she grows older, she notices, and it means she can’t help but see--see that there are people, outside of Corsucant, who don’t like the Empire. But that’s not a good thing to think, a safe thing, so she pushes it away, and signs up for security track at least partly as a rebellion. It’s good, though, she finds. She likes having something to fight. 

2) She notices him because he smiles at her. No one smiles at security; no one looks at them, really. She’s fine with that. She has her parents at home, and she’s always been a little apart from her peers, aware of the Empire in a way they aren’t. She doesn’t need anything more. But one day, one of the workers--some pencil pusher--smiles at her, and she, well. She notices. 

They stared at each for a moment. Then, Cyno kicked him squarely in the stomach and caught Alhaitham by the hair when he doubled over.

"You're playing with fire, Scribe," he warned darkly.

Alhaitham laughed. "I've been told I can be reckless."

As if to prove his point, Alhaitham stretched up, against the iron grip Cyno had on his hair—taut enough he felt a few strands snap off. His tongue darted out, pressed to the corner of Cyno's lips where a bit of coppery taste still lingered. Cyno breathed unsteadily before he threw Alhaitham down to the ground.

"You're not tired out yet. Get up and fight."

Alhaitham's responding smile was wicked, matching the almost mad glow in his eyes.

That did the trick: Kaveh clamped his mouth shut, although he didn't stop blinking at Alhaitham like he was seeing double. After a moment, Kaveh narrowed his eyes.

"Who the hell are you? You can't be the Alhaitham I know."

Alhaitham rolled his eyes and considered leaving the room altogether. "Will you or will not help me?" He asked, teeth gritted.

"Of course, how could I refuse such a sincere request! I knew you'd come around to see my charms, eventually." Kaveh paused and tilted his head--a convincing impression of a stupid dog. "So, what am I helping you with?"

"Love."

"On occasion, if I'm tempted."

"Well," he set the bottle down and leaned forward on his elbows, eyes trained on Alhaitham, "are you tempted, then?"

Their knees knocked together when Cyno moved. Alhaitham glanced down, briefly caught in the glimpse of bare skin.

When their eyes met again, Cyno raised an eyebrow. His entire demeanor was playful, relaxed. His lips shone with a drop of wine.

"Tempted" was too light a word.

"I'll drink," Alhaitham conceded, "so come closer."

Cyno shuffled from across the table to Alhaitham's side and handed him the bottle of wine like a prize. Alhaitham set it firmly back on the table and instead reached for Cyno. When their mouths met, it was just teeth at first. It hurt in just the right way.