#EVEN IF THEY DID CONFIRM SOMETHING OUTSIDE OF THE SHOW ITS OUR AU WE CAN DO WHAT WE WANT

[the-somwthing]

Since Joel and Pearl are both pearls in gemcyt AND they’re also both violent wolf/lonely dog coded can we PLEASE make it a thing that corrupted pearls become wolf/dog-like 🥺

[kiyfra]

My new fic is out! Scorpio can be read here or on A03. Pokerus AU belongs to @monsoon-of-art.

“Why did you sting me, for now we both will drown?”

“I can’t help it, it’s in my nature.”

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

Ingo forced himself to take slow even breaths as he laid in the messy bedding of Lady Sneasler’s abandoned den. She had taken her kits and relocated the nest elsewhere in the Coronet Highlands, refusing to disclose the location to her warden.

Her decision was a sensible one, not one borne out of disdain as Mistress Calaba believed, even if her words did nothing but repeat in his head.

“He’s an outsider that doesn’t know our customs or share our values. It’s not surprising that he’s done something to offend her.”

She had always been the most critical of him since he was first offered a place within the Pearl Clan and had been one of his harshest critics since he was appointed as Lady Sneasler’s warden. Many of the more traditional members of the clan took issue with his position, but they couldn’t argue with a decision from the Lady of the Cliffs herself.

Most of the Pearl Clan was welcoming or warmed up to him quickly. They were content to think of him as rather odd with his strange mannerisms and knowing a startling amount about pokémon while lacking basic life skills such as starting a fire or food preservation.

Ingo wondered if he was imagining things when he saw Pearl folk giving him dirty looks after he was the first of the clan to show symptoms. But ever since Calaba voiced the belief that he had brought a curse upon himself and the clan, he heard people whispering about him when they believed he was out of earshot, especially after his lady’s perceived scorn.

Irida had stood up for him and had taken a stand against talk about curses or divine punishment from Sinnoh.

“Don’t pay Calaba any mind. It wouldn’t be the first time she accused a guest of bringing a curse into the settlement.”

A guest.

Her reassurances inadvertently confirmed what he had always feared, that the Pearl Clan viewed him as fundamentally other. The place he would have to live and would be his home for the rest of his life would always consider him an outsider and he could never truly belong.

Ingo supposed it didn’t really matter now.

It was a short while after his physical transformation was completed that he made the decision to leave the settlement and isolate himself on Mt. Coronet. Several times he had lapses in memory where he couldn’t recall where he was or what he had been doing, coming to with people staring at him, shocked and horrified.

Irida and his fellow wardens had similar episodes, snarling at and trying to bite or claw anyone that was close, leaving children crying and their parents looking at them with such contempt. These episode grew more frequent as time went on and Irida was giving serious consideration to sending the rest of the clan away to protect them from its wardens and leader.

She found Ingo carefully storing and removing belongings from his tent while carrying a pack containing a few days worth of food, ready to leave his home as if it was never lived in.

Irida was still wearing her traditional garb, the tails trailing behind and dragging on the ground. It was quite cumbersome and impractical with her new quadruped build, but she refused to let the gradual and painful transformation into a glaceon rob her of this sense of dignity.

“Ingo, what are you doing?”

“I am performing my safety checks.” He turned towards her. “Lady Irida, I want to thank you for everything you and the Pearl Clan have done for me. It has been an honour serving as one of its wardens.”

“Don’t talk like that. We’re not going to die,” she said sternly.

“I truly wished for a better outcome, but I can’t ask any more of you.” He bowed his head. “Goodbye, Lady Irida.”

“Where are you going? Ingo? Ingo!”

He ignored Irida’s shouts as he flew off towards the old den to wait as the rest of his humanity faded away, the clan leader tripping over her coat tails as she tried to chase after him.

Ingo spent several days in the spacious nest his lady had left behind, curled up in the bedding and trying to cry out the names of people he didn’t remember.

He could feel his mind changing and slipping away from him as his body had, all hard edges and points. Layers of soft flesh had peeled away to reveal dark purple chitin, massive pincers and a quick stinger loaded with poison. His human exterior had been stripped off and left him with the rugged body and jagged fangs of an alpha gliscor that welcomed any venom and was the bane of his lady’s kind.

The tattered wings wrapped tightly around him couldn’t replace the weight and comfort of his coat, the one he arrived in Hisui wearing and refused to part with for many years. He expected and dreaded the day that the wear and tear would eventually render the garment unusable, not expecting his body would be altered to the point clothes became untenable.

His stomach growled loudly. The rations he had brought with him ran out yesterday, but he refused to leave the den to find something to eat, even if he found himself longing for the coppery taste of blood.

To feel the satisfaction of his prey’s panicked struggling growing weaker as he drained the life from them and shearing at tender flesh. Or hearing their surprised squeals as they were abruptly snatched up and carried away; he could probably find a paras or a shinx still up and about that strayed from the careful watch of their parents, maybe a sneasle if he was lucky.

He should leave to go hunt. How could he provide for a fledgling gligar if he wouldn’t even feed himself?

She’s not your child, you fool!

“Ingo!”

A tiny blue gligar stood at the entrance to the den, dripping wet from being out in the night’s rain. He rushed over, wanting to wrap up his nestling in his wings to protect them from the dangers of the world until they were ready. Keep them safe and warm until they were a proud gliscor.

“Ingo, I need somewhere to sleep for the night. Can I stay here?”

The hazy image of a blue gligar faded from his vision and was replaced by a dewott with a red scarf and large satchel tied around its waist. Ingo blinked hard several times to try and clear his head.

“Miss Dawn? W-what are you doing here?”

“I was trying to catch Cresselia,” she admitted. “We found her at Moonview Arena, but she kept running away. I chased her all over Mt. Coronet for hours, but it started raining and I didn’t know where I was-“

He cut her off.

“Miss Dawn, I’m afraid you must remain behind the yellow line as this station is not safe to stop at. You should attempt to locate one of the Survey Corps camps. My lady would be happy to assist you.”

He wanted nothing more than to let her stay the night; sending her back out into rainstorm didn’t sit right with him. But he couldn’t trust his senses to remain intact or the nature of his delusions to remain consistent. Already his vision was distorting and showing him a shiny gligar in her place.

“I-I know you said you didn’t want me to come back here, but I’m sorry I didn’t choose to save you,” Dawn said, her voice wavering.

That’s what this was about? The warden felt the guilt over his prior behaviour worm its way back through him.

“I thought saving some researchers to help find a cure made the most sense,” she explained.

Ingo was there when she made her report after visiting the three lakes. She had announced to a room with all the clan leaders and wardens that there was a way to prevent the infected from losing their sense of self to the virus, much to everyone’s elation.

There was bad news though. Each blessing from the lake guardians could only be used on one person, meaning only three people in all of Hisui could be saved. Dawn followed that bombshell by stating that she had already made her choice and used the blessings on three members of the Survey Corps, reasoning that their scientists would need their minds intact if they wanted to find a permanent solution.

Everyone in that room was furious they weren’t even considered, Ingo included. The two of them were close, sharing a love and understanding of pokémon beyond that of their contemporaries. Dawn trusted him as a mentor and confidant as the only other person in Hisui that had been in her position and he always strove to be worthy of that trust.

To hear that she made the decision to leave him to a horrible fate so easily, he did feel angry and betrayed, even if he understood her utilitarian approach.

In retrospect, he acted shamefully, refusing to accept reality and demanding to know how she could abandon him like that. He was desperate for this child to save him, even knowing it would have been at someone else’s expense.

Dawn started to tear up.

“I still want to help you but I understand if you hate me...”

“No, no!” Ingo knelt down to place his serrated pincers over her shoulders.

“I’m the one who should be apologizing. It was never fair you were forced to make a decision like that to begin with and I’m sorry you were made to feel responsible for my problems.”

The dam broke with her shoulders trembling and tears flowed freely as she started crying. She wrapped her arms around his chest plate and buried her face against his neck.

“I’m going to fix a-all of this, I’ll find a way to turn you back to normal... A-and then I’ll bring- I’ll take you back home with me...” she struggled to get through her bawling.

Given how Ingo’s expression rarely changed and how much he relied on his words, he didn’t know what to do when words were failing him. He wanted her to understand the world’s sorrows weren’t her duty to solve or reassure her this wasn’t goodbye.

But he would not lie to her.

Instead he scooped up the girl to cradle her against his chest, mindful that his pincers could snap and sever any protruding body parts without even really trying.

With how many impossible expectations were being placed on this child by the Galaxy Team and the clans, Ingo bitterly thought about how he should never have been amongst them.

Dawn continued to sob against him and he wanted to rub her back or smooth her hair to comfort her, but couldn’t with his awkward, dangerous claws. So he remained stationary to let her cry into his shoulder for as long as she needed to.

Ingo felt overwhelmed by the depth of his feelings and he couldn’t tell if they truly came from him or if they stemmed from his delusions that he was a parent. He had always felt responsible towards her and was always proud of her. But even after she had taken to calling him ‘Uncle,’ he never felt this way before.

It wouldn’t be the first time he wondered if he had been a father before he lost his memories, though he certainly hoped not. Neither was he presumptuous enough to think he could replace the loved ones she left behind.

Whether it would have happened on its own or if vague notions were being filtered through an animal’s brain, in that moment he truly wanted to be her father.

A tuft of mussed up fur was sticking out and Ingo took note of it, wanting to lick it flat. Dawn would not appreciate such a gesture and he wasn’t that far gone yet.

“I did consider using the blessing on you,” she admitted quietly. “I don’t know if you remember, but you’ve hissed and growled at me like you didn’t recognize me. You were scaring me. Especially after what happened with Iscan.”

They had been visiting the Cobalt Coastlands and Iscan had insisted on teaching Dawn how to swim. Ingo agreed with him that it was a valuable life skill to have, so he doesn’t know what came over him when he heard the girl throwing a tantrum.

There was something about her dismayed squeaking in the hands of the man turning basculegion that caused an irrational and uncharacteristic rage to overcome him. When he regained his senses, the Diamond Clan warden was thrashing under the hold of his claws, his throat bloody and torn.

The incident had been proof that Iscan’s theory was true, that the PokéRus victims were gradually loosing their minds and succumbing to violent impulses.

It was also deeply upsetting for everyone involved, though Basculegion’s warden didn’t bear a grudge. One shudders to imagine what would have happened if Paulina hadn’t been there to pull him off of the man.

A lot of people were put off by Ingo’s constant frown, loud voice and intense silver eyes long before his metamorphosis exaggerated his frightening characteristics. He hated being thought of as intimidating or scary and put a great deal of effort into presenting himself as someone reliable and trustworthy.

Despite his haggard appearance, Ingo was one of the most warm and kind individuals Dawn knew. So to hear that the girl who felt a great sense of kinship and looked up to him as a role model was afraid of him must have been a bitter pill to swallow.

“I understand, and I’m sorry,” he said.

She had no more tears left to cry, so they continued to hold on to each other, not saying anything. Neither of them wanted to let go, understanding this would likely be the last time they could appreciate each other’s presence before they became unrecognizable to each other.

“It wouldn’t be so bad to be remembered like this,” Ingo thought.

Whatever people he left behind beyond Hisui, he hoped they remembered him fondly.

“I guess I oughta head out. Volo’s probably waiting for me,” Dawn eventually said, removing her arms from around his neck.

His blood turned to ice at the name. There were many things about the merchant that irked him; his fixation on the rift and Dawn’s possible connection to it, him giving away so much of his inventory as though he was trying to buy her loyalty, his insistence that the wardens were a danger to her and his false sense of cheer and flattery.

“Like a used car salesman,” his mind added unhelpfully.

None of these meant much on their own. Curiosity wasn’t a crime and it was hard to disagree with his assessment on the danger posed by the PokéRus victims. The man made his living as a merchant, so it made enough sense he was prone to insincere flattery. Even the gifts from his shop inventory could be explained by the gravity of their current situation. But taken together, everything about the merchant rubbed him the wrong way.

“Volo accompanied you to the highlands.” It wasn’t a question. “How did you become uncoupled from him?”

Ingo had levelled a serious look down at her and Dawn felt as if she was being interrogated.

“Well, Volo couldn’t get close to Cresselia without spooking her and he thought I’d have better luck. She still kept running away and he put more and more distance between us until I lost track of him.”

That could have been an honest mistake, but it severely bothered him that Volo had been blasé enough about her safety that Dawn got separated and lost on the mountainside during a storm at night.

If Ingo had been accompanying her, he would have insisted on a rendezvous location and urged her to drop the pursuit until morning.

Was Volo actually concerned about her well-being?

“My good friend, I certainly hope you don’t hurt anyone with those claws!”

What could have been genuine concern came across as a barbed insult with his fake cheeriness. Volo had gone on to address Dawn and speak about the warden as if he out of ear shot when he was only a few feet away.

“I just worry that Warden Ingo will snap!”

Ingo wondered if his own personal bias was colouring his perception of the events. He had no proof of wrongdoing, but he didn’t like how the merchant was driving a wedge between her and the other adults in her life. Lady Sneasler’s warden did not want Dawn seeking refuge with Volo.

The man turned gliscor spent a long minute staring into space in silence to consider his choices.

“Alright. You may remain at this station to rest your cab until morning,” he finally declared.

“Really?” She was surprised that he changed his mind so easily.

“I pride myself on my ability to get passengers safely to their destination. Rest assured, I won’t allow myself to be derailed by current events.”

He had made the decision against his better judgement, but it should be fine. It was just until morning and he could keep a hold of himself until then.

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

The dewott weakly kicked and squirmed in his jaws, its pained squeals little more than noiseless wheezing through its crushed windpipe. Delicious, iron infused blood seeped through its fur and he considered what good luck he had that such an easy meal would so foolishly wander into his den. It should tide him over until he could go hunting for himself and his growing gligar.

If his hatchling was awake he would have let her play with the injured critter for a bit, have some fun killing it and honing her hunting skills under his supervision. But she was sound asleep deep inside the den, unperturbed by the commotion.

He would just have to tear some strips off for her when she woke up. Maybe he could bring some other creature back for a plaything, break a few bones and sting it a couple times in case it got any ideas.

Tiny paws swatted at his face to no effect and in response he bit down harder, blood streaking down his chin. The dewott would stop struggling soon, then he could feed.

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

Ingo bolted awake in a panic, the sky still dark and sunrise a few hours away. He was laying on his back in the soft bedding with his wings wrapped around him and tail coiled defensively around his chest, Dawn nowhere in sight.

A sick uneasy dread filled him as he was seized by the notion that something horrible must have happened in the night, that he did something eerie and unforgivable after failing to perform his safety checks.

There was a warm weight on his stomach. Visions of violence and gore danced in his head as he unfurled his wings, fearing what he would find but needing to know what happened.

His small passenger was curled up beneath his chest piece, intact but completely still, and he tentatively lifted her chin up with the tip of his pincer.

“Miss Dawn? Dawn!”

“...Mmm...?”

She groggily looked up at him with heavy lidded eyes, barely awake. Relief washed over him at seeing she was unharmed.

“It’s nothing. You may go back to sleep.”

Dawn didn’t need to be told twice. Laying her head back down, she was out in a matter of seconds.

Ingo was still shaken and wouldn’t be able to return to sleep, wanting to fuss over her to soothe his nerves. Fret over the tiny creature in his care to make his heart stop pounding so loudly.

His sensitive hearing was all to keen to pick up on the dewott’s heartbeat, signaling a warm body full of blood that made him salivate at the prospect of biting down and sucking it dry.

The warden was horrified and disgusted with himself for having such thoughts. It had been two days since he had last eaten and he was starting to have tremors from the low blood sugar, but it was doubtful he’d even be able to keep anything down now. Ingo felt nauseous and wanted to retch until the phantom taste of blood left his mouth and throat.

He never thought of gliscors as monstrous, despite their fearsome appearance and morbid feeding habits. They were quite caring and nurturing towards their offspring and colonies. His own was a highly intelligent, sociable creature and a beloved companion that was deeply worried about him.

But Ingo felt like something that crawled out of a child’s nightmare. A creature made of dark chitin, creaking leathery wings and dripping fangs that would snatch up crying children to sate its hunger.

He was a fool for letting her stay when his mind was so clouded and close to slipping away entirely. First thing in the morning, he would send her away, then he could breathe easy knowing she wasn’t in any danger from him.

It would have been the most sensible to have woken her up immediately to call for his lady and take the girl to her own den, but Ingo was terrified to give himself permission to move.

Hours slowly passed by as he counted cracks in the ceiling, twigs in the bedding, anything to take his mind off of the thoughts battling against each other and to distract him from his ravenous hunger.

Sunlight eventually started to pour in, but it would be at least another hour before Dawn woke up. Her mornings were early, but they didn’t start at sunrise like Ingo’s typically did.

He suspected he wasn’t a morning person before his arrival in Hisui and his permanent eye bags were proof that he never fully adjusted. But he would sleep in till noon today after Dawn had left, given how little rest he had managed last night.

The rain had mostly subsided with on and off again showers; perfectly adequate weather for travelling. There would be nothing preventing her from heading on her way and Ingo waited anxious and impatiently for her to wake up.

She finally began to stir and stretch and he hastily unfurled his wings, unwilling to wait any longer.

“Good morning! I hope you slept well.”

Sinnoh knows he hasn’t.

Dawn remained motionless to pretend she was still asleep, but Ingo wasn’t fooled. Her heart rate had resumed its normal pace after being roused from slumber.

“I know it’s early, but it’s time to start up your engines and locate the tracks for the mountain camp.”

“Hrmmm... five more minutes,” she grumbled, curling up tighter to try and shut out his loud voice.

Ingo wasn’t having any of that. He maneuvered a pincer under her arms and placed her on her feet beside him somewhat rudely. With a nervous energy allowing him to move faster than his exhaustion would have liked, he swiftly sat upright on his haunches as Dawn was rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

He could not allow any further delays; it was already irresponsible of him to have gambled with her safety when he knew he was a danger to her.

“Please forgive my abruptness, but I must insist you remain on schedule and depart immediately.”

The girl let out a sigh, resigning herself to the fact Ingo wasn’t going to let her go back to sleep.

“Don’t you even want something to eat first?” she asked. “It’s important to ‘refuel’ and all. I’m pretty sure I still have some Jubilife muffins left over.”

Dawn turned around to look through her satchel for the pastries.

Ingo felt the prickling of sharp claws in his mind at the mention of food. They abruptly shot out and gripped his brain, squeezing and curling into him like his head was caught in the grip of a massive purugly.

He made a pained noise and tried to press his pincers against the sides of his head to relieve the pressure building up before he felt something burst in his sinus. The unknown creature that had taken residence in his head kept squeezing tighter, a warm trickle from a nosebleed dripping down his face. Searing hot talons like a branding iron burned holes into his own thoughts and Ingo gave a loud hiss as his vision blurred into a haze of red.

Dawn huffed as she turned around.

“Well, if you don’t like muffins you can just say so.”

She didn’t expect to find Ingo hunched over on all fours, eyes wild and taking on a red gleam with blood dribbling past a pained grimace.

“Uncle Ingo?” she asked tentatively, taking a step forward.

His eyes focused on her and his pupils constricted, wings flaring out as he bared his teeth. He lunged towards the girl, jaws wide as Dawn screamed.

Ingo was hit point blank with a jet of water from the fast thinking dewott, mere inches away from his target. The attack contained enough force to blister soft skin, but wouldn’t do much more than irritate the armour-like chitin of an alpha gliscor. A blast across the face and into an open mouth made Ingo gag and struggle to clear his airway, surprised by the unexpected bout of resistance.

It was first time she had managed to pressurize the attack for a proper water gun, not just a sputtering stream of bubbles. If Ingo was in a proper frame of mind he would have congratulated her for the feat, but there was no time for celebration.

His spluttering gave her just enough time to scrabble away and turn tail to run towards the cave entrance, kicking up grass and shed fur from the bedding in her mad dash. She didn’t dare check behind her as Ingo recovered from the distraction and scurried after her, an enraged shrieking only encouraging her to run faster.

A window of grey light from an overcast sky was less than a foot away, but Dawn could feel the flecks of spittle from the mad gliscor hot on her tail. The girl threw herself through the cave entrance and a pincer snapped shut where her head had been moments prior.

She landed hard on the gravelly slope outside the den and slid down several feet,  the rough terrain leaving harsh stinging scrapes all over her front and down her face. Some of the larger stones she bumped over would leave nasty bruises.

Dawn looked over her shoulder to see Ingo standing in the cave’s entrance, claws tightly gripping the edges and stinger raised threateningly.

A series of confusing and contradictory emotions flickered across his face before his posture relaxed and he vanished back into the cave, returning to his solitude.

A hallowed out feeling settled inside her chest at the sight of the man disappearing into the den, knowing it would be the last time she would get to see him as anything other than a monster.

The man that went to such great pains to be a supportive figure during such a tumultuous and uncertain time in her life and the closest she had to family, would be gone forever if she couldn’t shoulder the burdens of Hisui.

Deep inside Lady Sneasler’s abandoned nest, her warden lied curled up facing the wall, unable to stop trembling. There was only a single request on his mind, the only one he could reasonably make.

“Please stay safe.”

[burnedbyshoto]

go the distance

(will you) go the distance

— You’re perfectly content in life except for the fact that you are not dating Deku. When his best friend won’t help you out, you turn to the dark side to get what you want.

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pairing: pro hero!midoriya izuku x bad villain!reader

warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, manga spoilers, pro hero!au, villain!reader, ofa usage for sex lol, size difference, manhandling, public sex, slight degradation and praise, deku eats his cum outta ya pussy, big dick deku, corruption but make it opposite, deku is a pervert change my mind

word count: 12,715

a/n: well, yall already knew I wanted to make this fic a reality, so here it is for bnharems villain collab!! check out all the already amazing stories if you haven’t already. thank you to kara, sky, and jo for reading this for me because lmao im ass rn. I’m gonna go to bed because I partied a bit too hard last night.

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your quirk: distortion – can make afflicted persons vision shift 6 cm to the left or right at the cost of having their own vision shift the same way

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“Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcasted rumors of a villain running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures, and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. 

“Road maintenance endeavors to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before. 

“Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city? 

“Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved, but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city, please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary. One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.”

The female reporter closes her eyes, despite still being on the air, her eyebrows furrowed as she exasperatedly sighs.

“Was that good enough, Mirage?”

You look at her with a pout, your eyes then clenching shut as your lips move with unsaid words as you motion for the cameras to stop rolling. You tilt your head right and left, muttering a bit.

“Did that seem better to you this time? I don’t know, I don’t think it was scary enough...”

You open your eyes to see the exasperated reporter looking at you as if she personally sought to end you right where you were sitting.

“You are the worst villain I’ve ever encountered,” she deadpans, and you laugh in agreement.

.

.

.

You weren’t really a villain.

If you must put a label on what you were, you would say that you were the best PR head any hero agency could ask for. You were, after all, the top student graduate from UA’s Business Course and had been ushered into a condensed agency the moment you were finished taking your graduation pictures. 

And well, if you are actually curious about the… villainy, you would like to uphold and continue to stress that you weren’t a villain! You were just a public nuisance – like those stupid YouTubers – with the ability to garner Pro Heroes’ attention! People had no reason to scoff at what you did on the daily.

You took both of these jobs very seriously!

It was like being straight out of a comic for you!

A simple – hopefully should the heroes you’re in charge of not be stupid – nine to five job by day, and a badass, crime-committing, sexy as shit villain by night! How could anyone ever hate you for your lifestyle! How could anyone ever hate you?!

But we are all noisy people, and everyone wondered just why you became a villain because you had a beautifully stable job with an impressive salary! Why would such an amazing woman such as yourself dabble in the evilness of humanity? 

Well, you did have an answer for the public.

“Why do you engage in evil, villainous schemes?” the reporter deadpans, absolutely and utterly not being paid enough to humor you in this forced interview.

The public loved drama, pizazz, a little showmanship even from what they deemed humanities worst! So, you told the world why you chose to be evil instead of good:

“Because I want to be!” you grin, flashing a pose as you make your away from the interviewer you had very much illegally forced to interview you. “And because a hero killed my cat!’

Of course, that was a lie! Why would you ever hand over the real reason as to why you decided to become a villain! You’d be laughed right out of Japan, possibly be murdered by a horde of fangirls!

For you see, there was one reason and one reason alone as to why you decided to take your place within the villainy hall of fame. Why you chose to do more in your day outside of your already demanding job.

And that one reason was: Pro Hero Deku, civilian name Midoriya Izuku.

Now, trying not to come off as some creepy, weirdo, stalker fangirl, you could fully admit that you were in love with the stupidly large hunk of a man that debuted as an official pro a year before you graduated from high school. 

You remember how the world was finally recovering from the year-long nightmare that had ensued. To be honest, you were stupidly surprised you had even managed to graduate, given that most of schooling had become somewhat of a joke.

FIVE YEARS AGO, MARCH, 2XXX:

It had been in the evening, the clear blue sky becoming ruby red and blood orange as you made your way out of campus. The air somehow smelled of sweet hay and gasoline, but you didn’t mind. There was hardly anyone out at this time, most students had made their way home already, and the only sounds were the moving cars of businessmen just trying to get back home.

There really wasn’t any reason to suspect anything to go wrong, this was a simple daily walk back home after school that wasn’t like any other. But then there had been a loud pop, an ever louder screech, and finally, you managed to whip your head in time to see a car tumbling through the air straight at you. 

There was hardly any time to think, even less to react, and the only thing you knew was that you were not going to survive.

You braced yourself, eyes clenching and body curling, your mind screaming because this was not going to be the way things ended. But before it could happen, before the car could come down upon you and squish you like a bug under a shoe, something picked you up and you were weightless.

Waiting for an impact that never came, the tears that were endlessly streaming down your face were suddenly stopped by rough, warm fingers smoothly wiping them away.

“Hey, it’s okay! You’re safe now!” a voice says softly to you, endearingly warm and comforting. “I’m here, don’t worry.”

“Am I… did I die?” you whisper, unsure if you even want the answer, your eyes remaining closed because you refused to open them up to some angel that could confirm your death. “God, what an embarrassing way to die!”

“Oh – um, no! You’re not dead! I promise!” the voice laughs brightly, just softly enough that you believe him and not be entirely horrified by the amused reaction. Your eyes crack open slowly, just barely peering back into the world, still half praying you weren’t dead. But all you saw was green. 

Green eyes, green hair, green clothes.

You blink, once, twice, realizing only then you were staring into the eyes of a boy about your age.

He had curly hair, freckles littering his face, and eyes that easily pierced through your very soul.

Without meaning to, your breath stopped, frozen in your lungs as you were captivated by a handsome man with a curving, beautiful smile. 

“See, I told you it was okay!” he teased you, head cocking to the side as he grinned largely.

The action itself seemed to strangle the strangest noise out of your mouth as you realized suddenly and immediately that your face was burning and all you could think was:

A cute hero rescued me, a cute hero rescued me, a cute hero rescued me, acuteherorescuedme!

“Sorry about that scare! I would’ve caught that car sooner, but I wasn’t paying attention to who was around!” the green boy apologized, bowing deeply in front of you in his apology. “There’s a commotion just up ahead, so I recommend you take the next road over.”

You nod numbly, unable to conjure even the slightest hint of your voice again as he stood up to his full length. He was average in height it seemed, taller than you, but still not towering. The hero looked behind his shoulder, those big green eyes focusing onto the distance, onto something you couldn’t even begin to imagine – or see, really. He blinked and turned back to you, smile gone but the gentle aura to him remained, but now his face, his mouth, was underlined with a sense of urgency and engagement to whatever sent a vehicle tumbling your way.

“Which train do you take home?” he asked, eyebrows relaxing from his stern position, as his smile picked up again. “I’ll take you closer to your station!”

“B train,” you manage to wheeze out – unable to be the reason why he was held up but also confused as to just what he could do to get you closer to the station that was at least a mile away from here.

“Perfect! I know where that is!” he laughs for just a moment, and before you could even ask if this was going to be some escorted thing – because you definitely did not need it – his arms were fastly secured around you, and suddenly you were weightless.

A cold wind rushed against your face, nipping at your nose, cheeks, and ears, sending your hair flying around – into your mouth! Oh, you were screaming! You were soaring through the skyline, being held by some hero you couldn’t name, and you were screeching at the top of your lungs.

Making the mistake of looking down, your arms were suddenly around his shoulders, your voice growing even sharper and louder as you squeezed against his body and refused to let go. His hands, despite the gloves, were warm on your back, and his soft chuckle warming you from nose to toes as he secured his grip on you.

“I got you,” he spoke, “I won’t let you go, I promise.”

Those words don’t exactly ease you, but there’s a comfort to the genuinity to his words. You nod nonetheless, your face buried deep into his neck. The cold wind continues to whip around you, the only thing sounding in your ears is the cruel whipping wind and quiet city below.

“I’m landing now,” he informed you, body shifting in the wind, and reflexively, you clung even tighter to him, expecting the similar stomach dropping motion of a roller coaster going straight down. “You’re – ack – c-choking me!”

The knowledge of that, hearing the strain and entirely unhidden sound of him choking against the current chokehold you had on him, you released him entirely with a shriek of your own. Was it a smart move? No, definitely not because you were how many hundreds – if not thousands – of feet in the air with a quirk that could not, and would not save you.

“It’s okay! I’m fine!” he quickly said, his arms shifting around your waist as you felt your body weight drop just the smallest bit. To which your focus landed to the concrete floor so far down, and you began screaming again. He panicked just a bit too. “Y-You’re okay too! We’re landing! We’re landing!”

Soon, but not soon enough, the concrete floor came underneath your feet, and you practically felt your knees buckle underneath you. The train station behind you was practically invisible, and you felt the floor come in contact with your knees, and you collapsed onto your hands and knees. You could feel the tears streaming down your face as you wheezed and panted, unable to move from your position. 

“Hey, look, we made it!” he laughed gently, probably being said in hopes that you would feel better. (It did make you feel slightly better, his laugh was light and pretty to listen to.) You could feel him approaching you, iron covered red shoes appearing before your vision. Looking up, you saw that the young hero was crouching, his face holding a wobbly smile that was earnest, worried, and full of unspoken hope. “I do need to get back, but before I do, are you good enough to be left alone?”

You blinked your soaked eyelashes at him, still largely unable to say anything at the cute hero in front of you who had a few scratches on his cheek, right below his freckles.

“Y-Yeah, um,” you say, your tongue cotten and lead in your dry mouth. “I-I’ll be fine, I think.”

The green eyed hero nods, offering you a hand and assisting you to your trembling legs, “That’s good to hear!” he chirped, his wobbly smile becoming a grand, bright grin. “You were really brave! I was impressed!”

Now, you were an idiot at times, but even you could spot a stupid lie. Still, hearing it said with such honesty, as if this hero who was no taller than five foot eight truly believed it, made something bubble in your chest, and soon you found yourself laughing.

“No need to lie to me, h-hero,” you manage to speak between stammering breaths, “thank you for saving me, though. I appreciate it.”

You grin crookedly at him, and to your utter delight, he reciprocates it.

“It’s the least I can do. I’d offer to take you home but… I’m not quite finished yet,” he says, and you can only nod, the conversation obviously reaching its last strides. You watch as he floats up, his eyes looking at you, but somehow focused how many miles away from where he had brought you from. “Stay safe?”

“I’ll try my best,” you agree to his question, hands clasping before your lap. “Finish the job quick, hero?”

He grins, “I’ll try my best.”

You feel a breathless sort of laugh escape you as you watch him beginning to shoot back up, but a sort of horror shoots through you as you rush forward, running right after him, hands cupping around your mouth as you scream:

“What’s your name?!”

The blur of green in the air freezes, and you stop running as you see green eyes and freckles focusing back onto you.

“Deku! My hero name is Deku!”

You stop at the curb of the street, eyes focused on the sky as the green eyed hero named Deku grins one last time before shooting off at a speed probably much faster than when he held onto you. The wind blows around you, and you can only feel the heat sitting on your cheeks and the way you’re smiling as you stare after his figure that's long, long gone.

“Deku...” you whisper to yourself, ignorant to the world of commuters beginning to appear at the station. “Thank you.”

And thus came the very apparent and obvious day in which you fell head over heels for Pro Hero Deku.

Now some people called you a stupid fangirl, obsessive stalker, and sometimes, yeah, you were obsessive and weird about your slight infatuation with a stranger. It was strange, you knew that! But you also knew that you had practically no chances of ever being able to woe the man behind the image of Deku because Midoriya Izuku practically existed as Deku 24/7.

After you graduated from high school, you were put into the same agency that was currently holding Deku. Without tooting your own rom-com obsessed horn too much, you fully expected to walk in and be handed Deku’s file as his PR manager and be able to thank him for not only saving you all that time ago, but also eventually sweep him off his feet. 

But your reputation preceded you well, probably too well, because the first day you entered the office and was handed your list of three clients to work with, neither one was for Deku. Being a PR manager for heroes was hard, a job that practically held no set hours because, unlike your typical celebrities, heroes had no type of privacy or protection. They were constantly under the spotlight, being viewed by adoring fans and scornful critics. Your job served as the first line of defense for heroes against the public, and there were some heroes that were quite hilariously easy to work for because they were genuinely good.

The older PR managers typically held the quieter, easy tempered, or less combat heavy heroes. These heroes typically never had a bad thing said about them, their job was a glorified PA job but even less because there was no expected demands from the heroes they had to take in. Unless, of course, a hero wanted to do some sort of public event they hadn’t considered. 

But there were the louder, quick to temper, or the heavy combat heroes that while made you an insane amount of money, also brought you a near 120 hour work week because there was so much to do, so much to consider, so much to keep your eyes on. There was the constant slander, the people who hated the louder, quick to temper heroes because they didn’t like their attitude, completely disregarding that they had been unsafe and a liability the entire time the hero was dealing with them. The talk shows that took months to convince to allow for an interview because they heard false rumors, and so you have to practically wrestle a boa constrictor to get a measly five minute interview done. And then the combat-heavy heroes… no one would ever shut up about building damages and how this hero broke his nose while he was stealing a store! 

Not to mention having to have every single piece of social media on your phone, set to notify you whenever your clients names were brought up so that you could look at it. You’ve seen more than enough lewd drawings of your clients to last you a lifetime, enough fanfiction, and fan edits that left you with blazing cheeks and the need to never look at your client ever again. But mostly you checked each and every update because you were their first and only line of legal defense on these sorts of things.

You’ve taken down leaked nudes, fake news, and qualmed rumors and speculations.

It was hard.

So when you were shown to your desk on your first day and three files were handed to you, you were shocked to see the hero names you would be working with.

Dynamight

Phantom Thief

Shouto

Somehow, without having yet to speak with a single one of your now current clients, you knew that you were going to have your work cut out for you.

“Good luck newbie!” the woman who gave you the initial tour chirped, clapping you on the back. “You got this!”

Good lord.

Without much to do other than reading through the three’s files, you realized that you already knew a bunch about two of three of your clients. DynaMight and Shouto were two heroes that you knew teamed up with and hung out with Deku a lot, both on-field and off-field if any of the out of costume pictures said anything. Because of their connection with Deku, you had at one point learned a bit about them.

You knew that Shouto was a crowd favorite. He was tall and sweet and a complete airhead at the best moments despite him being smart. Controversy still surrounded his character, despite all the good he did, because of the past history that was brought out about his father Endeavor and his brother Dabi. The country couldn’t figure out where they stood in terms of that reveal. Endeavor did a lot before the reveal, and continued to rise up to everything in his path despite the skeletons in his closet being thrown out for the world to see. They neither forgave him, nor hated him, they only watched and waited. Then Dabi, of course, was seen as a could-have-been version of Shouto, and many tried to ask if he was really a hero and not actually siding with the League. After all, why on Earth would he be defensive of his father too?

The public had an unmoving image of Shouto based on anything but who he was as an individual, and you decided immediately that it would be your job to fix that. He was also, after all, a dear friend of Deku, so you’d do anything.

Phantom Thief was your easiest of the three clients. A relatively well mannered man who was kind and a bit weird in a fun way. He had a great sense of self and was a reliable person on the field. He made a great hero, but you could see the way his spirit blazed with an unspoken rivalry between him and the other two of your clients. Well, it seemed like he was the best until his former self appointed rivals came into the picture, but that was hardly ever, and according to Shouto, he was way worse back in their first year. 

The greatest scandal he’s had so far in your three years of working at their agency was the one time he was lied to about a quirk and accidentally copied a woman's quirk that gave her the ability to change her cup size. Safe to say that Phantom Thief accidentally broke a few buttons on his shirt and was unable to stop civilians from snapping pictures. 

But of course, the one that had you practically crying yourself to sleep nightly for more than one reason was Dynamight.

You’d known about him the moment you looked up Deku on your phone.

They were practically a hero duo in everything but name. They were always seen doing the same things together, whether that be on patrol together or maybe getting dinner, most of their top recorded fights were done with each other by their sides. You had also learned that they were childhood friends, and you practically vibrated at the thought that even though Deku was not your client, the chances of meeting him were still astronomically high.

There was no way you wouldn’t not meet Deku!

But you were wrong, so very, very wrong.

Turns out the hero duo in everything but name meant that Dynamight refused to let Deku be anywhere near him in the agency – the very small amount of time they spent in here. The few times they were in the same room, Dynamight absolutely refused to be interrupted because that was their paperwork hour. You had only ever been blessed with seeing green curls turning the corner as Dynamight gripped your forearm, refusing to let you follow.

“Like hell I’ll let you distract the shitnerd,” he stated simply, his red eyes narrowed as he stared down his nose at you. You opened your mouth, ready to defend your not so innocent intentions. “I’m not stupid, so don’t pretend like you won’t try anything.”

Your jaw snapped shut.

Safe to say that you couldn’t do anything about Deku so long as Dynamight was around.

But Dynamight as a client was exhausting to put it kindly.

There were so many opinions and thoughts and issues and praises coming from everywhere. Hell, even the fucking Americans and westerners had caught wind of the Wonder Duo at one point and while you were well knowledgable on their opinions on Deku, the ones on Dynamight were the ones that you had to focus on now.

People still called him a villain, so many unhappy with the fact that he still screamed and cursed and threatened. There were many conspiracy theories that he was working with the long dead League of Villains. They turned their nose up at the fact that he was childhood friends with Deku, claiming that no way an asshole like him could have ever been friends with him. And of course the bullying revelation that had come out shortly after your debut. 

That had been a trip, one that had you even shocked as Dynamight approached the table in front of the media, his body calm and composed. You had watched as he simply said he owed nothing to the media, that he had already done all that he could to deserve his atonement and deserve Deku’s forgiveness. He had spoken clearly, concisely that it wasn’t any of their damn business as to what he did, and if he apologized to them, the unaffected, the ones that had nothing to do with his early years of bullying Deku, of his previous weakness and insecurity, it would be a waste of his breath. 

It isn’t to them he should ever be apologizing to anyways.

You had watched as he stood up, face calm, and hands shoved into his pockets as he stood and walked away despite the screaming reporters. You had wanted to stay longer, have your own hand in damage control, but a swoop of green came in and Deku was at the microphone eyebrows furrowed as he pointed a finger at them all and said that his past with Kacchan was between him and Kacchan only, and his decision to forgive Kacchan were his and only his.

You didn’t hear the rest, didn’t even get the option to hear the way the hero you loved defended the hero you worked for – his childhood friend.

No.

Dynamight had grabbed your elbow and dragged you out of the room with him, the metal doors clanging closed the moment fierce green eyes met yours.

You watched in the company car as Dynamight looked outside the window, one elbow on the doorframe holding his chin; his gaze focused sharply on nothing but the passing sidewalk. Had it not been for the way the hand on top of his lap trembled, you would have thought he was perfectly okay.

Neither one of you talked about that again.

But just because you didn’t talk about it again, didn’t mean the world was the same. People claimed he brainwashed Deku, others demanded that Deku beat the shit out of Dynamight. You knew that Dynamight would want nothing to do with this, but you would stay in the office (an almost useless, empty office as most PR managers did their business at home) for hours long after you were supposed to be gone, practically arguing with someone who only existed behind a screen and didn’t even care that much – but you couldn’t stop.

Seeing Dynamight’s shaking hand had really done a number on you.

“The hell are you still doing here, eyelashes,” Dynamite asked from the dark entrance of the floor. “Go home already, don’t waste your time.”

You had startled at the initial intrusion, but you immediately relaxed seeing the smudged paint around red eyes and blond hair. You barely kept your gaze on him before turning back to your computer and continuing your argument.

“I’m not wasting my time, I’m doing my job,” you remark, eyes squinting at your keyboard because your vision is definitely blurry. “I’ll be heading out soon anyways.”

“God you’re fucking annoying and stubborn!” Dynamight barked, the heel of his hand slamming into his forehead. “This is exactly why I won’t introduce you to the fucking nerd!” 

“What?!” you shriek, suddenly looking at your client as if he had personally attacked you – and in a way he did. “What do you mean you won’t introduce me to Deku because of that?! I’ve already met Red Riot, Chargebolt, Cellophane, and Pinky through you!”

“Yeah, because they’re not stubborn idiots too!” Dynamight accuses, jamming a gloved finger at you as he begins stomping your way. You startle, your chair shooting backward as the explosion hero makes his way towards you at alarming speed.

“What are you—?!” you shriek, hands flailing about as he grabs you by the collar of your distressed shirt.

Dynamight lifts you up to your feet as if you were a sack of flour and you grasp onto his forearm.

“I might tell you that you’re the most annoying and stubborn bitch in the world, but you’re not worse than fucking Deku,” Dynamight sneers, his red eyes narrowed and stern. “I’m not going to let you meet him until you learn how to give or you’ll hurt him, and I’m not going to be part of any reason as to why he gets hurt again.”

Your jaw dropped, clearly offended, but you closed it just as fast; the weight of his words made you a bit sad, even for just a bit.

“You’re kinda cute when you care for Deku, you sure I’m his biggest fan?” you tease, grinning at the hero to which he rolls his eyes.

“Shut the hell up and go home already; it’s annoying seeing you fight a losing battle that’s none of your damn business,” Dynamight simply said, putting you back onto your feet and blocking out your desk. 

“I’ll go home on the condition that for my birthday you at least consider introducing us!” you say, unwilling to move from your spot. “I’ve been working for you for three years! You’ve kept me away for three years!”

Dynamight’s stare didn’t even shift the slightest millimeter, his red eyes unamused as you groaned in grief and annoyance.

“I’m stubborn? Have you met yourself?!” you grumble snatching your jacket and purse from the hook on your cubicle and shoving them on. “My names God of Explosion Murder: Dynamight and I am Stubborn™ but will never admit it.”

You continued mocking your long time client and most definitely friend if you dared to say so, and dragged the heel of your foot all the way to the elevator to which you were joined by Dynamight. The trip down the elevator is silent, and you keep your gaze locked on the closed doors, unwilling to even look at the hero next to you.

Soon enough, the elevator reached the ground floor, and you got ready to walk out.

“I’ll consider it,” Dynamight said as the elevator doors opened. “Also, fucking stop calling me Dynamight, Bakugou’s fine.”

He walked off the elevator with his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants.

“Thank you, Bakugou!” you shriek, your lungs failing you at the thought of finally being introduced to Deku! You hadn’t moved from your spot from the elevator, your chest hammering with the thought of getting to meet Deku.

“Don’t get your hopes up, you’re still irritatingly stubborn,” Bakugou merely calls over his shoulder before lifting his hand in a halfhearted wave before stepping out of the glass door.

That brought you back to reality just a bit and you scowled, knowing you would have to go beyond and above to prove that. 

But you see, there were many reasons to cry about having Bakugou as your client. Besides the stinkhole of his previous bullying, people just were not understanding his typically prickly exterior. You had to go head to head with reputation tarnished, had to slap fangirls away who demanded that Bakugou degrade them where they stood. It was hard to not be stubborn as not only his PR manager but his friend, and in less than a month, still plenty of time before your birthday, you had already grown irritated of the meeting-Deku-card he waved over your head.

“Mei, if I have to go any longer than this, I will die and hope I am reborn as Deku’s new guardian angel,” you pouted, chin pressed against a cold metal tabletop. Your hands being used as glove models for one of your best friends Hatsume Mei. “It’s first of all impossible getting anywhere near him with his guard dog Bakugou literally stopping me whenever I’m within a ten foot radius! And then I’m not even sure what will happen when we do meet again! Would I even be able to talk to him?!”

“Why wouldn’t you? You talk to all my babies with me! There’s practically nothing you can’t do,” Mei laughs, smacking you against your back before returning her intense gaze back to the gloves. “Deku’s uh… I actually can’t remember him but I’m sure he’s a great conversationalist! I think he helped me with the Sports Festival my first year.”

 “That was Iida,” you laugh, wiggling your fingers as Mei demanded. “You’re so bad with names and faces, I’m impressed you know mine.”

“You saved my baby, of course I remember you,” Mei turned her grin towards you, “but come on, why can’t you get with him besides this Bakugou guy?”

“Well, he’s just like Bakugou! He’s practically married to his job! Their schedules basically match together perfectly! There’s literally only three hours a day while they’re on the job that they’re not together! And that’s when they patrol their own parts of town because there’s hardly any activity they don’t need to be attached by the neck.” You explain and rant, your cheeks puffing as you stand up and allow Mei to run further tests on the glove. 

“Sounds like you gotta become a villain to woo this hero guy, huh,” Mei spoke, eyes focused on the glove as you pointed a finger at the far wall and watched as a beam exploded from the fingertip and pierced through the steel wall like butter. “Too bad you’re a goody two-shoes or else I could make you some serious villain gear and make you a fearsome villain to then prove that Hatusme Mei’s babies and creations are untouchable and the best in the world! Muah-ha-ha-ha!”

You know her words are more joking than serious, but that doesn’t stop your eyes from widening. Your body shifts over to where she was standing and you screech pointing at her and just narrowly missing setting off the laser again. 

“THAT'S IT!”

“What’s it?” she asked, completely confused.

“You have to make me a villain!” you exclaim, rushing over to Mei, who is eagerly waiting for her babies returnal especially since it ran perfectly. “You have to make me near-invisible gear that can keep me going toe to toe with Deku until I can seduce him!”

“You want to turn evil?” Mei questions, finger pressing quizzically to her chin. “That doesn’t seem right.”

“I am definitely not villainous to pull that off, but like I pretend to be a villain so that he talks to me and we can like get to know each other!” you exclaim, you’re unable to keep from hopping up and down on your feet, your grin unfathomably bright. “It's practically a romcom in the making!”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Mei laughs, altering the band of fabric around your waist. “You do know heroes and villains hardly speak? It’s more like… ‘I’m more powerful,’ ‘No me!,’ ‘No, ME!’”

“Um, I’m pretty sure that’s not true, but whatever! I’ll figure out a way!” you continue on unaffected because this plan was genius! Especially if you had Mei in your corner?! Her recent development of not using such… steampunk designs made her creations elusive and dangerous to own. Hence why she was an extremely sought out manufacturer, by villains and heroes alike. “And if I can go toe to toe with Deku of all people, you’ll know that you and your babies are the undeniable best!”

“Hm, that is promising,” Mei agrees with a nod as she forces you around. “Is this Deku guy all that good?”

“He’s the one you made the iron soles for!” you chirp and watch as the recognition and challenge spark immediately in Mei’s yellow eyes.

“Oh,” Mei chuckles, turning away from you and looking at her pile of made babies. “This would be good.”

“So we have an agreement?” you grin excitedly. 

“Give me a month, and we’ll have your debut!”

Fuck Bakugou for thinking you weren’t good enough!

.

.

.

You hadn’t expected the initial phases of villainy to be quite as hard as it was, if you were being honest. The late nights at Mei’s personal lab made sure to keep your plans a solid secret, but you had to prepare for the wild range of what Deku’s quirk entailed.

There was smoke, something you were already used to working in because of Bakugou and his quirk. You’ve navigated quite a bit in his smog, and as long as you knew where you were, you would be fine. 

There was also that danger sense, which allowed him to know when things were coming – something that shouldn’t be too big an issue considering you weren’t actually attempting to extract danger onto him. 

Blackwhip was a big issue. How far or how much could you do if he even grabbed a hold of you. With sleuthing and the help of Mei having files on everyone's quirks, you were able to find information that blackwhip was a creation made of energy. Meaning that Mei was now making some type of destructing material to lessen the energy of the quirk, allowing for you to escape should he attempt to capture you this way.

Float was stopped by having most of your fights occur within a confined area, which was needed for you anyways! You didn’t need to be caught by anyone else but him! You didn’t actually need to land in jail – you would prefer to not be handled by anyone but Deku, actually.

Then of course the stupid superstrength and superspeed, both of which you knew you could handle with your quirk. You’ve been head to head with people with quirks similar to that before, and you knew your quirk was tricky enough that you’d manage to slip right past his fingers just fine. After all, you knew full and well that the Deku who took down S class villains was worlds quicker than F class villains – aka you.

You would be fine.

But today was day one, first of how many days it would take to get Pro Hero Deku, aka Midoriya Izuku to fall in love with you. 

You were dressed in a black and purple bodysuit that was definitely not inspired by Shego from Kim Possible’s costume. Your hair was dyed purple by a special spray Mei created that would be washed out by the end of the day, but wouldn’t ever give away that it was fake. You wore a mask over your eyes, and grinned seeing that you couldn’t see a fleck of color on your irises. 

Perfect.

And with far too much confidence, nauseating excitement, and unjustified attitude, you marched down towards your first spot, ready and adopting the identity of who you were about to become.

Mirage.

It was time to act. Deku and Dynamight were on different patrol routes right now, and you sent your threat, readying for the moment for the man in green to come in with the desire to stop you. With the very real threat of stealing every puppy within the tristate area being broadcasted within the area unless and hero bests you, you waited for your savior to come and stop you.

“I am here to stop your villainous acts, you villain!” a voice shattered the silence just as it shattered your heart. You looked over your shoulder to see some hero you couldn’t name standing at the other stairwell entrance with his fists clenched and ready to fight. 

You groaned, shoulders crumbling with your well hidden disappointment.

“I wasn’t looking for you!” you exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at the flabbergasted hero who was just trying to figure out what was happening. “Where’s Deku?!”

“He’s – he’s not here yet,” he stammers, eyes wide. “It’s not his day anymore to patrol this area?”

“Aw fuck!” you complain, pouting at the realization that you had messed up. “Okay, I’ll be back later, please don’t come back. Bye!”

With a small wave, you easily stepped through the door to the stairwell next to you and left, your threat empty and the hero victorious despite not actually stopping you. And unfortunately, although you had wished and prayed even, this was not the last time a screw up like this would happen.

At the threat of destroying all the cats in the area, you had another hero show up, not Deku, and you groaned and left before they could even finish their call of stopping you.

You then threatened to poison the watering system, to which you found out that Deku was held up at another major villain threat in a different city. You groaned and stomped off after that. 

Then there was the time you swore you would increase the overall temperature of the city per one degree celsius should your demands not be made. Shouto answered that one and you immediately walked away the moment you saw the familiar head of red and white coming your way.

Time and time again you kept being caught by heroes you could not care about, being confronted by no names and nobodies. It was tiring, and Mei was beginning to sigh just the smallest bit whenever you showed up to try yet again.

But you weren’t a quitter!

You would win!

This was your last attempt at getting Deku to notice you.

After threatening to wrap all the citizens in the area with a giant froot by the foot, you were almost sad to say that the heroes ignored your cry for chaos and no one had come to check on you.

You sat outside the building you used as your trap for Deku, pouting into a hot dog that the neighborhood's grandma gave you because you looked like you needed something to eat. It’s a good thing you weren’t actually a villain or else they’d be fucked, you bitterly thought as you took another bite of your food. 

It had been a month of empty, no Deku appearances, and you were going to bite the bullet and pretend to be not stubborn just so stupid Bakugou of all people could introduce you.

You kicked your feet as you sat on the staircase, humming as you watched the empty streets bend with the wind. It was quiet, beautiful, peaceful.

“YOU!” a voice shrieked to your left, and you watched a pudgy, red nosed man racing over towards you, a flash drive clenched in his hands. “TAKE THIS! RUN! DON’T LET THE HEROES TAKE IT!”

You gawked at him, feeling the small plastic device being shoved into your hands as the man collapsed at your feet. You squeaked when you heard a voice yelling stop and you bounced to your feet, turned into the building and raced in.

Your breathing was erratic, heart in your throat as you raced up the stairwell, unable to begin to imagine what the hell the information on the flash drive held. You were practically hyperventilating as you reached the floor you had come to know extremely well, and you stood near the window with shaky hands and legs.

What did you take?!

“I’m going to need that back, I’m afraid,” a low smooth voice said from behind you, and you froze immediately. Old anxiety overcome by a new anxiety, one that made your stomach flip and blood burn. 

Turning around, you felt awestruck to see the one man you’ve been waiting for… for fucking years now, really, to appear before you, finally be there. In the flesh, completely, entirely. Your jaw dropped, your gaze looking down from your clenched hand that held the USB to the way that Deku looked at you with warm eyes that were underlined with steel that made you want to drop to your knees, confess everything, and beg to be his. God, he was so fucking tall. He had only been about five foot eight the last time you had actually talked, and now he was at least a foot taller. His teenager haircut was long gone, now replaced with his curls trimmed at the nape of his neck before filling out on top – not quite an undercut. He had more freckles now, surely. His skin just a bit tanner, a scar trailing from his cheek to his jaw. You knew there were more scars, just as you knew that there were dimples when he smiled.

You wanted to have him between your legs while you begged for mercy, holy shit.

Tucking the USB into your pocket, you tilted your head as you will yourself to relax.

“I went through all the trouble of getting it... I think if I’m going to hand it over quickly, I deserve to know what’s on it, no?” you tease, your confidence coming out of nowhere while a smile spreads ever so largely over your features. Deku’s eyes widened just a bit, shock overcoming his green eyes.

“I’m sorry, but that’s confidential,” Deku stresses, taking a step forward toward you. You click your tongue, taking a step backward while grinning.

“I don’t think that’s what I asked for,” you giggle as you watch Deku’s face go through an array of emotions before settling onto one – curiosity.

“What do you want?” he asked, apparently entirely ready to discuss any and all terms and conditions with you.

“Honestly?” you reply, tapping a gloved finger to your chin as you ‘think.’ Deku, however, nods. His stance relaxing, becoming one of preparedness but not the takedown he had previously entered with.

“A date with you.”

You watch as Deku’s eyes slam wide open, his jaw dropping immediately and he stammered. Oh, how your heart soared and how you felt giddy and wonderful as he seemed to slip and slide on his own tongue!

“A-A date?!” he ends up almost shrieking, his head shaking left and right. “T-That’s a total lie! You can’t possibly – well, no! Please tell me the truth!”

But you were giddy, practically drunk off the fact that you were making the most powerful hero in the world blush like a little schoolboy. You suddenly were on the offensive, stepping towards your hero who was much larger than you with power and drive behind each step. And it must have been the way you stared him down, the way you walked towards him at blank range with such brimming confidence that Deku takes a step back. But it’s something that makes you want to laugh as the heel of his foot gets caught on a raised tile, and you watch the mountain of a man tumble to the floor.

You’re on top of him immediately, hands pressed to his shoulders, knee settling near his crotch with most of your weight so he got the idea to not do anything funny. The USB sits between your fingers, and you lean over his flushed face that looks up at you with wide eyes.

“Actually, I changed my mind, I know what I want,” you say instead, nose ghosting over his. “Everytime I decide to do something… naughty… I want you to be the hero on the case to stop me. You and just you.”

You lean in closer, so close that you could see the specks of gold in his green, green eyes.

Deku hasn’t spoken, and you’re pretty sure his chest isn’t moving as you press your breasts against his.

“Understood, De-ku?”

Your teeth tug at his bottom lip and let go as he nods.

“Good, good,” you grin, sitting up on his chest and taking the USB in your fingers and slipping it into his utility belt. “Take good care of that for me, I’ll see you next time, hero…”

You had only managed to flash a quick wave before disappearing through your usual door, hoping and praying to god that whatever the hell possessed you would continue until you reached Mei’s. It wouldn’t hit you until much, much later than you had stunned Pro Hero Deku speechless within the first meeting.

Hell, you thought giddily as you answered Bakugou’s call about how he probably just got into a bit of a messy situation, maybe you do have the potential to woo him like this. 

.

Thus truly began your descent as the villain Mirage.

.

It was quickly accepted and discovered that the moment you stepped into that costume and colored hair that you were the prey for Deku and Deku only. Most of your interactions with Deku occurred within buildings, and you used Mei’s gear to gain the final laugh each and every time to allow for you to escape. There were times, however, where you could be seen racing through the sky. Jumping from rooftop to rooftop as Deku followed after you, leaping, tumbling, and even catching you at times. 

You flirted with him heavily, allowing yourself to be caught so that you could bat your pretty lashes and press your chest against his. It didn’t matter how professional he was, how good at his job he was, Deku was a pervert – so obviously a pervert it made slipping away almost too easy.

But because you had the world-renowned, world known Pro Hero Deku as the only hero on your case, soon the small block who had to play victims to your horrendous crimes became only a small percentage of people who were watching your crimes. These near daily crimes (or inconveniences/botherings as the people on the internet say to defend you and your actions) are becoming both a worldwide sensation, and so, it took nothing for you to continue having Deku at your feet and the world chipped in. So you agreed to do interviews, forcing uneager reporters to do segments on you so that the hype behind you and Deku’s relationship grew.

You didn’t want him to leave you, not until you got what you wanted, and unless you were an idiot, you were nearly positive you were almost there.

Why would you say that?

Well, a few reasons.

The first came about a week after you had first met Deku again.

You had joyously gathered the means to create a machine to shave down an eighth of an inch of everyone's shoes in the entire country of Japan without their knowledge. You had ever so evilly explained that the point of this was to ensure that for a full day, everyone would feel off and unbalanced but would not know why.

You had said this, grinning widely as you turned around to see Deku standing there attempting to fight off a very amused smile. 

“I don’t think that would be all too evil, Mirage,” he called out to you, arms folding across his chest as he watched you set up the machine to do exactly what you said you would do.

“Mm, that’s what you say now, but just wait until you’re one of the losers stumbling around,” you say back, grinning as you turn around for just a second, wagging the knife at Deku from the distance. 

“Well, regardless, you know I can’t let you do that,” Deku laughs just slightly, and you grin, standing up.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yes, so I’m going to have to ask you to stop right there.”

You giggle.

“Make me.”

You’re not sure what happens, but there’s dodging and weaving, spinning and sliding. You’re practically wheezing from how hard you’re laughing as Deku can not manage to land a finger on you with the help of Mei’s items and your quirk. It all comes to an end when instead of dodging, you throw yourself right at him, and Deku has not anticipated that. 

His eyes are wide open and you fiercely grin as he falls back onto the floor, unbalanced and only slightly frantic. You have the knife pointed at his neck, the dull blade sitting gently on his skin.

“So, Deku,” you taunt teasingly, your teeth burying into your bottom lip for just a moment at the sight of the dark flash in his green, beautiful eyes. “Tell me one thing, or I’ll continue on with my vile plans.”

“O-Okay?”

“Are you single?”

The second attempt came a few many weeks later. 

You had gathered about 75 tons of glitter bombs and were in the current process of making them one. You had plans of setting it off over Tokyo so that for practically the rest of eternity, the entire city would have glitter everywhere. The only thing is that you did have to glue the glitter bombs together because, well, no one made super giant ones.

“This is so annoying, there’s glitter everywhere, and I’m only ten glitter bombs in!” you complain to the ‘empty’ room but knowing full and well that Deku had appeared through the broken window at least five minutes ago.

“If it’s annoying to you, then shouldn’t you stop?” Deku replied and you grinned. 

He really couldn’t stay quiet, huh?

“Well, if it’s annoying to me, then that means every one of my victims will also find it annoying. Win-win situation.” you say, turning around towards him and winking. Facing back towards the glitter bombs you scowl, “stupid fucking glue gets everywhere, too!”

“Regardless, you know I can’t let you do that,” Deku said as leveled as he could although you swore you heard a laugh in his voice.

“Just try and stop me,” you reply back stone cold.

You stand up and watch as Deku stands up from the windowsill and sighs just a bit too heavily.

“Guess I have to,” he says and shoots out before you’re well prepared.

Typically, and probably in any other situation, this would have been the end. Pro Hero Deku had come at you with the speed and power as he took out any other Class F criminals, but unfortunately for him, and definitely fortunately for you that glue was EVERYWHERE.

Deku’s hand was stuck onto your arm, and your chest was glued to his stomach, and you swear you never quite got the strawberry Deku references until right now.

The perverted hero burned scarlet, his face practically simmering with heat as your body became undeniably stuck to his. You had to fight off the vindictive smirk, the practically snarling grin as you could feel something hot and heavy twitch at your hip.

“Fuck,” Deku wheezed.

“Fuck, yeah,” you grinned.

.

.

“WHAT?!”

.

.

Deku could not look you in the eyes for about 10 more interactions following that, but you counted that as a win. But undoubtedly, your starred and favorite memory of it all was something that occurred just last week of the current present events.

You had stood on top of a building, threatening the entire government of stealing (i.e., cutting off) the aglet of their shoes and sweaters and then removing all the laces so that it would result in their wasted time and entire humiliation!

“I don’t think most people even know what aglets are, to be honest,” Deku said from behind you. You turned around to see that he was standing there with an unsuppressed grin. “It’s not a good enough threat.”

You go unfazed by his judgement, choosing to instead bat your eyelashes and push your hair behind your ear.

“Not a good enough threat, and yet, you’re still here?” you tease, enjoying the way pink flushes to his cheeks.

“Where else would I be?” he says, and you have to ignore the way your stomach fills with butterflies. 

“You’re not cute when you flirt back,” you deadpan, biting your tongue harshly when he says ‘hey!’ “Enough chit chat, let me kick your ass now and then do what I need to do.”

Unlike probably what is 95% of the time, you made the first move today. 

You were on the offensive, jabbing and weaving, sweeping and punching. Deku’s green eyes were nearly black as he watched you, analyzing and taking in your movements, countering them all without so much of an issue.

“I still don’t get your quirk,” Deku grunted as his hand swiped at the empty air. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“So then you can turn me in to the government who are still salty about their aglets? I don’t think so!” you say with a laugh, rolling out of the way as Deku lunges forward. “Try again, baby, I have full faith that you’ll get it.”

Deku puffed out a chuckle and lunged again, his huge gloved hand swiping at you, with nearly accuracy despite your quirk being on. But… he wasn’t exactly perfect.

RIIIIIIIIIP!

Cold air hit your breast and your jaw dropped as your very exposed breast appeared before you and Deku. Pro Hero Deku had torn the breast of your costume, the costume that you purposefully did not wear a bra for because you had wanted this exact scenario to play out.

“DEKU!” you screech, pretending to be modest and covering your tit as Deku finally yanked himself out of staring at your breast and whipped around. 

“Oh my god, I am so sorry! I didn’t think that was going to happen! I didn’t even mean to look at your boob! It just sort of all happened too fast and it was very shocking! N-Not that you have an ugly boob or anything because actually I think you have a very great boob! But oh my god, I need to shut up please ignore me!” Deku spoke so fast in a matter of five seconds, and you couldn’t even tell him to come back as he sprinted away.

His ears burned red and you swore even as he was gone, you could still see the red of his ears illuminating the sky.

You laugh.

“What a perv.”

And so, we are back to the beginning.

Back to how you forced a local news channel to read your demands so that you could hopefully take your final bow as Mirage forever.

With the threat of having a machine that would make dogs bark at a frequency for hours on end until humans eardrums broke then bleed. You made your way to your typical building and hummed as you waited. 

The world outside was the same as always.

There were a few people out, a few cars driving through the street, and a few birds chirping here and there.

It was peaceful.

“Don’t you think the new reporter thing was a bit dramatic?” Deku chuckled from behind you.

You were used to him approaching like that, used to him trying to portray being elusive and cool. In your opinion, it just made him dorky.

“No such thing as being dramatic when I’m trying to go head to head with the greatest hero ever,” you respond back effortlessly. You spin on your heel and look back at Deku, who is leaning against a doorframe that he most definitely is slouching on so that the top of his head doesn’t hit the frame. “Hi, Deku.”

“Hi, y/l/n,” he says with a soft smile, one that's slightly victorious, one that makes your stomach knot in a pleasant way.

“Ah, you discovered my secret identity,” you observe, grinning as you begin approaching Deku. “Should I be scared?”

“Probably not, I don’t think I could do anything to you,” Deku sighs, pushing off the door frame and walking towards you too. “You’re pretty amazing, y/l/n.”

“Let’s prove that then,” you grin while zipping forward.

As if the both of you knew that this was the end of the line, the final confrontation, the battle this time was different. It was showy, flirty, full of spins and side steps, playing a game of cat and mouse while dodging and weaving. You laughed as blackwhip dissolved around your costume, and you frowned as he began using more of his power to get from point A to point B much quicker.

You’re not quite sure how it happened, what exactly you did wrong, or maybe Deku just finally figured out the pattern you used for your quirk because suddenly you were being tackled from behind. You shrieked as the two of you went down, his body flushed on top of you, his chest pressing to your shoulders. 

The both of you were heaving, panting, completely out of breath from the five minutes you took playing around. He holds your wrists in one hand, pinned above your head, and the other one is on your waist. You were trapped beneath him, unable to move the absolute unit of a man above you, arms and hips weak to his weight. You shoved your hips up, attempting to shift some of his weight off you, but you froze as he choked on a breath by your ear.

Your ass was pressed against something hard, thick, and hot.

Oh.

Ohhh fuck.

It was happening.

Holy fucking shit.

Your breathing hitches as you thrusted your ass up again, confirming you were grinding on what was definitely Deku’s hardening cock. And once again, Deku makes the prettiest, most embarrassed gravelly grunt at the back of his throat and you feel like every strand of resistance and strength snaps.

The hand on your waist pulls you even closer against his crotch, and there's lips pressing against your neck, and you absolutely lose it. 

He kisses your neck sloppily, teeth nipping at your exposed flesh, and you grind against him, moaning and thrusting back as your body feels like it's on fire. He wanted you! He wanted you and your plan to woo him worked!

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” you keen breathlessly. “Wanted you so badly, Deku.”

“Fuck,” Deku curses, his hips thrusting back against your clothed ass with power you couldn’t fucking wait to feel. “I wanted you too. Wanted you so badly, but didn’t think – holy shit.”

His hand that pins your wrists lets go of you, and moves to grab your jaw. You nearly fucking melt as his full lips slam against yours, and you moan as his lips move against yours. There’s something indescribable about how he’s kissing you, the want, the need, the months of suppressed tension bursting through every move and curve of his mouth. It doesn’t matter to you that you’re pressed up against the concrete floor, you feel like you’ve been placed into another world, an area where you can never come back.

Your arm reaches behind you and buries into his soft curls, you tug at them as your ass circles against his thrusting hips. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you whine at the hot, wet muscle in your mouth, and it sends your head spinning. You can’t take it anymore, you need him, want him flushed against your front.

“Can I fuck you?” Deku asks swollen lips pulling away from yours, his mouth frantic and trailing kisses up your cheeks and down your jaw. “Please, I wanna fuck you so bad. Wanna fuck you on the floor and against the wall. Can I make you mine?”

You nod your head frantically, unable to come up with the words to say in order to tell him yes.  

Deku laughs breathlessly and flips you over so that it’s your back against the floor now. 

And just like you want him to, Deku comes down to reclaim your mouth. Hot, open mouthed kisses, teeth tugging at your lips and hands grabbing your waist. His hands are huge against you filling up the space between your hip and your waist without an issue. Your legs wrap around his waist, feeling entirely small underneath him, but entirely ready to be fucked by him.

His lips move expertly against yours, teeth nibbling at your lips, mouth then sucking on your tongue. You can’t keep the continuous moans from leaking out, can’t keep yourself from staying quiet as your eyes flutter open and see green eyes so dark they look black, staring down at you with the intensity of a predator. 

You were his prey, and you would present to him at the drop of a hat.

His body is hot, heat rolling off of his hero costume in waves, making you feel like you were near burning against him. And the heat between his thighs sits at the bottom of your ass, thrusting up and grinding against you so that you don’t forget even for a moment that you are making him this way. 

“I always knew you’d have such a pretty moan,” Deku mumbles as his fingers find the zipper to your costume and begin to tug it down. His lips trail down your neck, biting and nipping at the newly exposed flesh. “Knew you’d look so pretty under me, waiting to be fucked into submission.”

The words spark something within you, your eyes fluttering as your hips grind just a tad bit faster and you whine. 

“Aw, is that what you wanted this entire time, y/l/n?” Deku asks, his grin pressed against your collarbone. “Wanted to be stretched out and fucked until you can’t anymore?”

“I want it,” you gasp, your fingers burying deep into his curls. “I want you, I want it, I want your dick in me already!”

“Not into foreplay?” Deku chuckles just a bit, tongue then tracing up your neck. 

“Oh I am,” you snap, fingers finding the zipper of his own costume. “You can find out later how much I’m into it, but right now, I have been wanting you for years, and you will not make me wait any longer!”

Deku only nods frantically, and it's a mess of limbs, sloppy kisses, and clothes as the both of you strip to nothing. 

Deku’s in between your legs, one hand pressed to the back of your knee, the other gripping what you believe is his dick because it makes everything in the world freeze as you see it. It’s huge, so thick that his hand wraps around it in a nice grip, and it long, curling up to his abs, curved and veiny. 

“Holy shit,” you squeak, your cunt already clenching at the thought of taking that in. 

“Are you ready?” Deku asks, the hand on your leg moving away for a moment as he cards his fingers back through his hair. “I don’t have a condom, though.”

“That’s fine, I don't care,” you dismiss his words, eyes too focused on the flush cock in his hand. “I don’t think I’ll live after you kill me with that anyways.”

Deku laughs just a bit, his dimples flashing as he leans in and kisses you deeply. You tremble underneath him, feeling so small pressed up against him, and you mewl when you feel the head of his cock pressing between your folds.

“Put it in,” you gasp, leg lifting and wrapping around his waist, “put it in! I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk, do you understand?!”

Deku nods, and with a sense of frantic need, his hand guides his cock into you.

It feels like you’re splitting in half. The girth of his cock stretching your walls out to the max, and he’s only going in. You scream loudly, both in pain and pleasure because it hurts so good.

“Take it, baby, take me all in,” Deku pants, his hips pushing out small, tiny thrusts to ram his cock further and further into your twitching cunt. “That’s i-it, holy fuck, that’s it! You’re taking me all the way in. F-Fuck… you’re so amazing! So fucking perfect!”

Tears are pouring out of your eyes, and your nails are tearing into his back, you sob slightly overwhelmed with his cock and the absolute pleasure of finally getting what you want and it being so much better than you thought. Your cunt throbs almost violently as Deku’s cock finally hits your cervix and your eyes roll to the back of your head as he thrusts in further, lips attempting to claim yours. 

“Fuck me, Deku,” you beg, hips beginning to slam and fuck up onto his cock. “Please! I need you!”

“Such a desperate little villain though,” Deku sighs, teasingly, giving you one strong thrust for good measure. It goes a long way though, the power behind his thrust and thighs promising you a bruised ass, thighs, and cunt makes your mouth water for more. “I need you to promise to never do anything like that again and be a good little manager for Kacchan.”

“W-Wha–”

“Be good and stop being Mirage, or else you won’t be fucked.”

There was no hesitation.

“Okay.”

And just like that, Deku’s soft smile curves into a knowing, fierce smirk, and you can do nothing as his hands press to the back of your knees and he begins thrusting his hips into you. And it takes you completely out of control. 

It’s a messy, frantic dance, your body holding onto his, your lips pressing against his, desperate and needy for his, and he is basically trying to imprint his body onto yours, the concrete, and the walls. Your bodies are so foreign to each other, and yet, when he fucks into you just a bit hard, just a bit faster, you come undone, back arching and toes curling as you sob his name.

It’s overwhelming to know that he can read you this well and for you to have never fucked him before. It’s empowering to see that he likes every forced and involuntary squeeze and clench of your cunt. He loved when your nails dug into his skin, raking their existence against the plane of broad muscles and scars. 

Deku curses your name as you clench around him, his hands moving to your jaw so that he can lift your face to kiss him just so. He kisses you with a heated passion, a need that strips your entire being bare, and his hips slam so loudly against you, the slicked wetness is squelching and slapping with every grunt and moan.

In and out his cock goes, and you praise him and his cock.

You praise him for making you feel so good, for stretching out your pussy with that fat cock of his. You beg for more, and more, and more. You want every snap of his hips to send new colors to your vision, and every echoing squelch of your meeting, sloppy sexes only adds to the blabbering, unmanaged sentences from your lips. 

“Harder, faster, more!” you beg, practically wailing against his shoulders, needing him more and more. The concrete hurts against your back, but you don’t care. You don’t care if he breaks your back, it’s a fall you’ll take. “Don’t hold back! Don’t you dare hold back!”

“Fuck, you’re crazy,” Deku gasps, his sweaty brow burying into your cheek. “I won’t though, I won't. Be ready, I’m not sure if you can take it.”

Before you can snap back that you can in fact take it, Deku’s weight falls heavier onto you and the angle shifts just slightly, and your words are ripped right out of your throat for a pitched, window shattering screech. Deku fucks into you with a new power, some untapped strength as greenspark falls from his skin as he ruins you for anyone ever again.

Your voice begins to scream out, the feeling of his vicious, thick cock snapping into you, shoving your shoulders further and further into the concrete was sending your head spinning. Your body is convulsing as he fucks you with new vulgar need and strength. But before you could scream your praises, Deku’s fingers shove into your mouth, and his other hand wraps around your neck, silencing your words and noises as he fucks up into you again and again and again.

“So loud, angel,” Deku smirks, fingers stroking and pinching your tongue as saliva pours endlessly from your mouth. His voice isn’t strained however, doesn’t have any indication that he’s out of breath or ready to tap out and that nearly makes you go insane. “I can’t wait to see everything that makes you look like this… you’re so pretty when you’re getting fucked.”

Your head is spinning, the heated tightness in your core clenching and throbbing as his conquesting cock never once stops or lessens. It just grows and grows and grows. His cock twitches in you, and your eyes roll to the back of your head as he lets out a deep moan. 

“Such a good and wet cunt you are,” Deku gasps as you gag against his fingers that press roughly against the back of your tongue. Your vision feels hazy, but you feel like you’re on cloud nine as his hand on your throat opens and closes, demonstrating his power over you. “I’m so glad you went through all this hard work to get me to fuck you.”

You can’t speak, so you nod desperately, you were so happy you did this too. 

Your hips buck up into him with sheer stubborn drive to get him to toss his head back and moan, you wanted to see him unhinged too. Your eyelashes flutter, as his hands remove themselves from your face, and they move to your hips to help you out. But the building tightness and demanding need in your cunt was growing louder, hotter, completely undeniable. Your teeth sinking against his skin as you whimpered loudly, absolutely pathetically as you shifted faster, fucking against him harder.

“I-I’m so close,” you manage to moan out, and a sharp escape of air comes from his nose at that revelation.

Deku nods, his head moving so that his forehead rests against yours as he looks deep into your eyes. “I need you to look at the way your belly bulges while I fuck you before you cum, I want you to watch it bulge as you cum.”

You whimper, the strain in your neck almost insufferable as you peer down at your hastily exposed stomach, and you nearly faint at the pornographic, near-insane image of your stomach bulging with his hammering monster of a cock. And just like that, the tight heat in you snaps without a hitch, and you come tumbling down from the heights of your building orgasm. White heat and light spread through your body, your jaw slacking as you moan loudly, screaming his name as you convulse against him, body entirely limp. Deku, who was barely hanging by a strand, completely loses it when your core clenches like a vice against him. 

Hot, thick ropes of cum spurt from his cock, his heavy, shaking gasps the only thing you can hear as he fucks into you once, twice more for good measure he collapses onto his forearms above you. It’s hot, almost too hot as he lays on top of you, the sticky fluid of his cum radiating against your already blazing walls, and for a bit, there’s silence.

Deku is the first to move afterward, and you whine as he pulls his cock out of your sore, abused pussy. You make a noise of curiosity then fear as Deku spreads your legs even more open and moves so that his head is face to face with your cum filled pussy.

“What are you–?!” you screech as Deku takes a lick out of your dripping cunt.

“Fuck, this does taste good,” Deku smirks as he once again licks your overstimulated pussy and you sob. “Besides, who said we were done?”

.

.

.

.

.

bonus! 

“Everyone, this is my girlfriend y/l/n y/n!” Izuku happily introduced you to his group of friends.

“What the hell?!” Bakugou screamed, thrusting a finger at you and all you did was laugh.

So much for not being stubborn, huh.

[free-pancakes]

Ok this is super cheesy but here goes; hanji: "you don't look like a professional criminal" levi: "oh sorry, let me go make myself look like Hannibal lector or something" sorry its rlly cheap but I wanna see some sort of crime au or whatever. Love ur drabbles btw! Keep it up! :)

oh gosh anon, this has been sitting in my inbox for months, i'm so sorry! might be a lil boring, but! i'm all for stupid levihan banter and it made me really happy to write this :) hope u like it!

Under the cover of night, a hooded figure crept through darkness. On the security cameras, it was nothing but a questionable shadow—blink once and it was gone. That’s how it always went.

“What the—“

Reiner turned, peering down the outdoor alleyway. His fellow security guard was no longer standing under a small lamp hanging above the corner of the building.

“B-Bertholdt?” he called?

Before Reiner could call out once more, he heard a voice whispering behind him into his right ear.

“If you open the door, I’ll let you off easy.”

Eyeing the crowbar on the ground, Reiner reached quickly. But he was too late—a hand grabbed him by the forearm. He struggled and was quickly brought to the ground.

“How could someone so small bring me down so fast??” he thought. Before he could even elbow back, he felt a needle sink into his neck, and he yelled out.

The hooded figure stood up.

“Just a small sedative—don’t worry. You won’t remember that a guy half your size took u down in less than...” He peered at his wristwatch—“20 seconds.”

As the hooded teen stood up, a small buzz vibrated in his pocket.

He unlocked his phone, the glow lighting up his face, the dark circles under his eyes now looking much more prominent.

A text from Erwin: “Levi, thermal imaging shows no one else in the building. Meet back with Nanaba in an hour.”

Levi shoved his phone back into his pocket, and got to work. He lifted a limp Reiner off the ground and dragged his arm up to the sensor, pressing his thumb against the fingerprint scanner—“Access Granted” blinked on the small screen as he heard the little click of the door unlocking from the inside. He dusted his hands off on his grey denim jeans, and crept inside.

The slight squeaking of his sneakers on the metal floor panels echoed as he searched for the room he was looking for. On his way he saw a pair of glasses resting on a side table at the end of a hallway, which he found quite strange—who’d just forget their glasses? Erwin confirmed no one else was around. After a few seconds, he decided to shrug it off.

Finally, he reached the last door in the winding hallway. Shining a special penlight, he watched as fingerprints appeared on the keypad on the doorknob, and once he figured out his code, he punched it in with the end of his penlight, and he was in.

Levi breathed a sigh of relief, and pulled down his hood. His least favorite part of the job—he had always been more of the fighter of their team, the brawn, not exactly the brains. But Mike made sure he learned how to break into computer systems, and Levi absolutely hated that process, with Mike’s constant teasing at how dense his brain was to this stuff. Levi grumbled as he sat down, figuring his way in.

Maybe 10 minutes passed, and he continued to struggle figuring his way through the complicated firewalls. In frustration he buried his head into hands for a few seconds, and took a deep breath. Before he could look back up, he suddenly felt a hand pat his back encouragingly.

“There, there, you almost got it!”

Completely startled, Levi jumped up, knocking down the chair he was sitting on and assumed a fighting stance, fists up beside his face. He was caught off guard and completely unprepared: he had no more sedative syringes left, no other weapons on hand. He stared at the person who stood before him, probably the same age as him—no more than 19—a smile on their face, brown hair falling out of the poor hair tie trying to hold the mess up, a can of soda in their right hand and a small bag of chips in their left and— they were wearing the same pair of glasses he saw outside?

His mind raced.

How did they sneak in without him noticing just now? Why are they holding snacks in their hands? Why in God’s name were they smiling at him? And most importantly, they were wearing those glasses, so they had to have been around when a Erwin did the thermal scan—how did they manage to go undetected??

Obnoxious crunching roused him from his thoughts. Mouth full of half-chewed chips, they answered: “Oh! Yes! My friend Moblit and I managed to invent this little guy help us evade thermal scanners! No one knows we’ve been spending nights here for years!” They said as they pointed down to a small metal band around their ankle.

Levi was so shocked, he didn’t even realized he said that last thought out loud. He didn’t know what to do exactly, but they didn’t… seem like a threat…

Levi grumbled, and returned to his work, and she blabbered on and on about how their “cooling band” or whatever the hell they called it work as he kept trying to break through the firewall. He almost regretted not tying them up and slapping tape over their mouth so he could concentrate—the next comment was the last straw.

“You’re pretty scrawny, I was quite shocked when I watched you take down those 2 buffoons that call themselves security guards. You know… you don't look like a professional criminal!”

Levi almost threw the keyboard against the wall.

“Oh sorry, let me go make myself look like Hannibal Lector or something, Four-Eyes!”

They smiled.

“Wow, a nickname! So we’re friends already, Levi!”

Levi paused, “…How did you know my name?”

“It’s right here! Levi Ackerman… Address: 126—“ they listed off as they read off the driver’s license ID they pulled out of his wallet.

Levi snatched his wallet back. “When the hell did you take that??”

He almost screamed in annoyance. “Instead of just sitting here annoying the hell out of me or some shit, why don’t you help me or something??”

They walked up behind Levi, rested their chin nonchalantly on his shoulder, and reached their arms around him towards the keyboard.

Levi felt blood rush to his cheeks. Why—what? Why did they have to type this way?? Why was he blushing??

And in less than 30 seconds, they broke into the computer, the “Zeke Inc.” logo disappearing, and the desktop glowing, open on the screen.

Levi’s jaw dropped, and when he finally registered what happened, he yelled:

“WHY DIDN’T YOU DO THAT FROM THE BEGINNING??”

They put their hands on their hips and retorted:

“Well, you didn’t ask until now!”

Before Levi could flip the desk in frustration, an alarm sounded from his phone. He only had 5 minutes left before he had to make his way out of there. Quickly, he rushed in, scrolling through shipments for supplies, rerouting their destinations.

“Oh… so you’re like a… a gloomy Robin Hood huh? Small boy steals from big boy company to distribute resources to those who need it? A criminal… or an anti-hero maybe!”

“Oh wait!” They leaned in next to Levi once more—“Here, this is faster,” they whispered while hitting a few more keyboard shortcuts, doubling the amount of shipments.

“Hange, what are you doing??” A young boy stood in the doorway, the same metal band on his ankle.

Levi’s alarm sounded, and he began to wipe down the keyboard of his fingerprints and grab his backpack.

“Hange are you sure we can trust him?” Moblit asked as Hange took off the metal band from their ankle.

Hange winked in response.

“Oi, Levi!”

Levi turned in the doorway, quickly raising his hands to catch the band Hange threw at him.

“Take it!” They yelled, and the heavy door shut right in front of him, leaving him alone in his thoughts.

Levi stared at the band in his palm, and gently wrapped his fingers around it.

“Thanks,” he whispered, and ran off.

As Levi ran under the night sky, he looked at the intricate tech in his hand, and noticed the color yellow peeking out from under it. Flipping it over in his palm, he found a yellow sticky note, which read:

“We’ll trade you our tech for housing if you have space, gloomy Robin Hood! Maybe we could even steal from something big like Marley Corp. someday! If you’re in, find me back here tomorrow night! - Four-Eyes”

Levi carefully folded the note and put it in his pocket.

“Levi?” Nanaba called as he approached.

“Didn’t recognize you—are you… happy about something?”

Levi inadvertently reached his hand up to his face, feeling how his lips curved upwards. He couldn’t remember the last time he ever smiled. His mind was fixated on the note in his pocket, the image of Hange’s face smiling at him etched clearly in his mind.

“…I guess I am, Nana.”

[sitaarein]

None Stand Equal In This Dark World

A/N: Officially my largest ever fic so please. Just read it and be nice sob because I’m kinda proud of some of it

Written for @grishaversebigbang 2021!!!

Corporalki: @homicide-depot​

Materialki: @generalnabri (x), @kolarpem (x), @aivicart (x), @maximumbluebirdpatrol , @niadrawing (x)

 (Summary: A murder mystery AU featuring Zoyalai, twists and turns, moral dilemma, and then some more

Read on AO3

Chapter One

The apartment door was wide open.

 In retrospect, that alone should have set off the alarm bells in Zoya’s head. No one left the door to their place wide open. She can’t imagine why she simply dismissed it. 

 Scratch that, she knew why. She’d been tracking this idiotic Grisha for a month now. She was tired and desperate. 

 But it appeared that- who would’ve thought- not being at the top of your game has consequences. 

 Consequences like staring down a man who’s been tied to a chair and gagged in the middle of, what Zoya guesses is, the lounge, eyes wide with terror.

 Zoya is mad at herself for not managing to guess it was a red herring- the damn door - and very, very mad at the Grisha who has, once again, slipped right through her hands. 

 She nods to one of her men, and he immediately drops to the man’s level to untie and presumably interrogate him. Zoya doesn’t stick around for the details- she trusts her people to give her good reports. Instead, after a cursory look around, she tips her head back to face the ceiling, taking in a deep breath, and leaves the apartment. 

 The weather outside took a dramatic turn in the fifteen minutes she was inside- it had been sunny before, or at least as sunny as Ravka ever could get. But now, the sun has all but ceased to exist, and the bitter cold is back once more. 

 Zoya prefers the cold. 

 (She doesn’t, not really, but no one needed to know that.)

 Zoya starts walking, pulling her coat tighter around herself. Her mind races, trying to connect all the dots, trying to figure out where her investigation had gone wrong. Start from the beginning. Don’t miss anything. The most minor of details are the most important.

  The beginning. A woman showed up to their headquarters about her missing family. Those cases were usually dismissed completely, handed over to the police forces- Zoya’s force was Grisha-centric, other cases, no matter how large or important they were, did not concern them. But this case was different.

 The woman was Grisha. 

 Her family weren’t, evidently- and neither did they know that she was. They’d been missing for six weeks, and the odds were pretty heavily stacked against them still being alive. The woman was detained (she was Grisha, this was Zoya’s job ) and a group of officers were dispatched for a search and rescue.

 The officers never returned.

 Alarm bells were now ringing, and the General assigned Zoya to the case. In the time since she officially took over, twenty more disappearances were documented, and all of them in Os Kerva alone. Saints knew what was happening in the rest of the country.

 But Zoya had never believed in Saints, so she found out what was happening in the rest of the country.

 The total number of disappearances in all of Ravka that had this case’s signature mark- an eclipsed sun left wherever the victims were seen last- was an estimated three thousand . Zoya couldn’t believe no one had connected the dots before her. Then again, the entire of the force were filled with incompetent idiots, so maybe it shouldn’t have surprised her. 

  The series of events . Zoya travelled up and down the country with the best of her underlings, talking to anyone who knew the victims, searching their last known places with tooth combs, building up working hypotheses, using all the resources they had available. Zoya was not an idiot. She knew exactly how capable she was. 

 And she also knew when she was fighting a losing battle.

 And so, when she got a call from one of her top detectives about a confirmed Grisha she’d been trailing for some time now who’d begun suspicious activity, she was clutching at straws and willing to take anything that came her way. She met up with her agent, and a few days later, they got the address of the apartment she was currently pacing in front of.

  The present . This part could be summed up fairly quickly. Zoya is, once again, at a fucking dead end . 

 Before she can kick something (or someone) out of frustration, A faint ringing reaches her ears, and frowning, Zoya stops in her tracks. Her phone is never not on silent. Calling Zoya Nazyalensky for anything was utterly pointless- she never picked up. 

  But the GIA has ways of getting into contact with its members regardless.

 Muttering a curse, Zoya digs around her pockets, looking for the infernal device with its grating, high-toned ringing. Finally locating her phone, she jabs the answer button without looking at the caller ID.

 “Yes?” she asks bluntly. 

 “Zoya,” Alina’s voice greets her.  

 Zoya immediately forgets everything that had been on her mind. When Alina calls, it’s rarely for a friendly chat. 

 “What’s wrong?”

“You need to get back here. As soon as possible.”

 “Understood. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

 Alina hangs up immediately, and Zoya pockets her phone, mind racing.

 She orders one of her lackeys to send her a report when they're done, grabs the keys for the van they’d used to get to the apartment from a rather distracted officer, taking off.

 Zoya reaches the Grisha Investigation Authorities in approximately half the time she’d given to Alina, and she may or may not have disobeyed quite a few traffic laws to get to her destination as quickly as she did, but that was frankly unimportant. 

 She strides through the doors, not bothering to acknowledge the many who’ve halted their paths to nod to her or, in the case of a few particularly stupid (or courageous, however you wanted to see it) people, attempt to strike up a conversation with her. She didn’t break her pace even once, until she’d reached the door to the meeting room they usually used to meet up for serious issues. After taking a moment to compose herself, Zoya pushes the door open.

 Inside, she finds all of her fellow Commanding Officers assembled- Adrik, Leoni, Alina, and Genya. Frowning, Zoya scans their faces, and mentally shifts whatever’s happening even higher on her scale of terrible shit to take care of immediately.

 Because not even Leoni, who can find positivity at a funeral, is smiling right now. There’s barely a hint of her optimistic and eternally cheerful personality in her countenance. 

 Zoya carefully takes the seat left for her around the circular table. Her gaze flits from one worried face to another, and she decides to be direct.

 “How bad is it?”

 The question seems to jolt Alina out of her reverie. She looks up, and Zoya feels her breath catch, because she looks so… helpless. Terrified.

 Genya takes it upon herself to answer Zoya’s question with another question, her mouth set in a grim line. “How’s your investigation going?”

 “We lost the suspect,” Zoya admits, her earlier frustration returning with the reminder of the infernal case. “We’re right back to where we started- but without the hope and the general idea of where to start.”

 “I’m not surprised,” Adrik mutters. “Considering who your delightful suspect is…”

 Zoya furrows her brow, and glances back at Genya. “Explain.”

 Genya looks as if she would rather do anything else, but after coming to the realisation that no one else is about to, she sighs and does so.

 “I’m presuming you remember Alina’s case that went cold about two years back?”

  A little too well. Even years later, that case haunts her- the truly horrific killings, from corpses with their body parts stuffed down their throats, to children who had clearly been still alive when burnt, the utter dead ends, Alina’s far too close brush with death, and… the person behind it all.

 “You don’t think it’s the same person??” Zoya demands, horror spreading through her veins.  She can not handle another Kirigan. 

 In lieu of replying, Genya nods to Leoni, who pushes forward a large envelope. Dread pooling in her gut, Zoya opens the package to find pictures from Alina’s investigation.

 “We revisited these when your disappearances started,” Genya says. “And… found more similarities than we’re frankly comfortable with.” 

 Zoya shifts the photos around, and then freezes at one, having caught sight of a mostly blurry but still distinctive calling card. “That’s…”

 “The eclipsed sun,” Adrik provides grimly. “You’re screwed.”

 “Hey, now,” Leoni protests. “We don’t know that.”

 Adrik snorts. “Don’t we? Need I remind you of the damage this person wrecked to the GIA and our country?”

 “How do we know this isn’t just a copycat?” Zoya breaks in. “None of the bodies of the victims this time around have been discovered,”

 “Copy cats still tend to have their own twists on kills, a signature, a mark that’s theirs. While none of the killings for either case have many similarities, they also don’t vary in terms of said signature.” Genya says.

 “Killers are proud creatures,” Adrik inputs.

 “And this one’s no exception,” Leoni says, eyes grim. 

 Zoya looks up. “What do you know?”

 Leoni hesitates, but then gives in. “We got a note this morning. A photocopy should be in the envelope too.”

 Zoya overturns the envelope, and sure enough, a piece of paper falls out. She picks it up, reads it, and crumples it up. 

 “You’re sure this isn’t a stupid joke?”

 “It was in the Director’s office.” Leoni says. 

  Shit.  Zoya glances back down at the crumpled mass she’s still clutching. You will burn on your mistakes. What mistakes? 

 She ignores the faint voice in the back of her head. You know what mistakes.

 Zoya takes a deep breath, focuses her thoughts, and then exhales. “How’s the Director doing?”

“He’s terrified.” All of the COs seemed to be equally startled to see Alina was the one to speak. Her mouth is set in an angry line, and Zoya can guess the track of her thoughts, because they were the same ones that had crossed her mind upon hearing the words- who is he to be terrified? What right did the Director even have to feel scared, when he himself never so much as interacted with the cases???

 Adrik sighs, leaning back in his seat. “Which is what has led us to our current predicament.”

 “And what do you mean by that?” 

 Genya exhales in a huff. “He wants the Mentals on this case along with all of us.”

 “He what.” 

 Alina, lips twisted in a sardonic smile, gestures to nothing in particular. “You heard correctly.”

 “Why ??? This is my case, and I will handle it.”

 “He doesn’t want a repeat of the bad press that came with my failing last time, I’m guessing.”

 “Bad press,” Zoya spits out. “I wonder how much bad press he’ll get when I-”

 “Do not,” Genya warns. “This could be helpful to us.”

  But also a personal disgrace , Zoya finishes the sentence in her head. The Mentals were practically a legend of the GIA- they were special, elite investigators, a whole mix of people ranging from scientists to- if the rumors were correct- ex-spies, who ended up with the cases no one else in the force could solve, and somehow, without fail, solved each of them within a week at the least. 

 It was irritating as hell.

 And having them assigned on your case meant that the Director did not trust you to be successful on your own. 

 Absolutely wonderful.

 “So when are these... spectacular detectives arriving?” Zoya asks. 

 Genya opens her mouth, and then closes it, before starting, “Well-”

 “I hope I’m not too late to this marvelous party?”

 Zoya swivels to see who this truly abnormally cheerful person is, and then blinks. She turns back to face the others once more- Adrik still looks glum, Leoni is smiling her most polite smile, Alina seems to have perked up and Genya is genuinely smiling. They all look… unsurprised.

 Of course they were hiding more secrets up their sleeves.

 “ What,” Zoya finally breaks and asks. “Is the damned PR guy doing here?”

 The aforementioned PR guy pouts. “Is that really what I’m known for around here? My PR duties? That’s quite depressing. Why would you focus on that when you could talk about my stunning good looks, or my undeniable charm, or even my ability to-”

 “Nikolai,” Alina interrupts. “Shut up.” she looks at Zoya, a hint of dry amusement in her eyes. 

 “Zoya, this is Nikolai Lantsov, and he is indeed our PR guy, but he’s also… head of the Mentals.”

 Zoya blinks. He’s what??? And then, wait… they knew who the special investigators were? How long have they known? Why was I not informed?

 She doesn’t voice any of her thoughts, choosing instead to stare, unimpressed, at the blond, who grins at her in response. 

 “If I had known you possessed such astounding grace and beauty, Miss Nazyalensky, I would have made your acquaintance sooner! I’m sure these upcoming days will prove to be an absolute pleasure, provided I get to spend them in your delightful company.”

 “Saints save me,” Zoya utters faintly. “The Director assigned an idiot to my case.”

 “Hey, now!” Nikolai protests. “You haven’t even met the rest of my team yet!”

 “An idiot who talks too much,” she deplores. 

 Genya and Alina both snort at that. In fact, all of her fellow COs seemed to be taking far too much pleasure in this situation. Zoya hates all of them. 

  “Well, now that we’ve gotten the pleasantries out of the way,” Nikolai says, to which Zoya distinctly hears Adrik mutter “pleasantries?” under his breath, “I think now would be a wonderful time for me to introduce you to my brilliant team,”

  Genya sits up immediately, looking eager. Zoya wonders what that’s about. 

 She finds out fairly quickly.

 Nikolai ushers in a group of people, and she recognises one in particular, one who she has, in fact, known since her college years -

 David. Genya’s husband, David Kostyk, is a part of the Mentals. Harmless old David. Zoya can’t believe her eyes. 

 She scans the rest of the group, but the others barely seem familiar. The two Shu right in front of David look similar enough to be twins, apart from the height difference. Right next to David is a woman that, with a jolt, Zoya recognises as Adrik’s sister from what she’s heard and seen of her. Bringing up the rear is a man who vaguely resemblesNikolai himself, ducking his head shyly as he enters the room. 

 “Now that your merry party is all assembled,” Adrik says glumly. “Any ideas where to start?”

 “Shouldn’t we at least get to know each other first?” Adrik’s sister asks.

 Adrik stares at her. “I’ve known you since I was born.”

 “We’re not the only ones in the room, Adrik.”

 “Oh, aren’t we ? I can’t say I noticed.”

 Nikolai interrupts their glaring match to finally provide Zoya with names to all the unfamiliar faces. 

 “Tamar, Tolya, Nadia, and Isaak, meet the officers we’ll be working with for the next few weeks or longer- Alina, Genya, Zoya, Leoni, and Adrik,” he gestures towards each person in turn. Zoya briefly wonders how he already knows their names, before realising that just because the GIA didn’t know who the special investigators were didn’t exactly mean they didn’t know the GIA either. 

 “And now,” Nikolai beams. “Let’s get comfortable. It’s time to discuss our present conundrum!”

[kamoniwa]

 ⟼ a little madness

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ pairing: yokai!kuroo/demon!akaashi/human!reader/werewolf!semi

⇢ au: college!au

⇢ summary: you, your friends, and some friends of your friends all get tricked by one tendou satori into visiting an abandoned amusement park for halloween. it turns out it isn’t ghosts you need to worry about, though.

⇥  kinktober masterlist

⇢ warnings: gangbang, noncon to consensual, lots of reluctance, mind break if you squint?, technical temperature play, unprotected sex, creampie, the boys are real gentle in breaking you down

⇢ word count: 11,695

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ a/n: don’t really think noncon is my forte but practice makes perfect. is the pairing self-indulgent? fat yes. does this fic make total sense? not really sure. did i have fun writing it? hell yeah. also big thank you to @ishuzoku​ for helping me come up with the flyer bc my og id was garbage lmao.

Furrowing your brows, you looked at Tendo with a mix of exasperation and unadulterated dismay.

“An abandoned amusement park. On Halloween?” Kaori asked before you could, eyebrows disappearing into her bangs. “You cannot be serious, Tendo.”

If he was put off by your reactions, he didn’t show it. If anything, he was probably relishing in it, and said, “Yes, yes I am. It’ll be fun. Come on, do you really just wanna get drunk at a boring house party on Halloween?”

You snorted at that, stirring your coffee as you said, “As opposed to getting murdered at an amusement park? That’s like, straight out of a horror movie, Tendo.”

“You guys are so boring,” he whined, slumping forward across the table. Shirabu grumbled under his breath, glaring at Tendo as he nudged his drink closer to Shirabu’s textbook. “Look, it’ll be so cool! Exploring all the abandoned funhouses and imagine how freaky the haunted houses will be! Just think about it, okay?”

The looks everyone exchanged said they had and had already made up their minds, but you nodded anyway, if for no other reason than to appease him.

A moment later, your alarm went off and you bid them goodbye, walking towards the door with Shirabu for your next lecture. You were sure as shit not going to an abandoned anything this weekend.

Except somehow, against all odds, you were piled up in the back of Konoha’s car, crammed beside someone who had been introduced to you as Akaashi Keiji. He was a friend of Bokuto’s and Konoha’s and, upon hearing about your adventure, asked if he could tag along. If you had to peg him, he was more the librarian type than a ghost hunter type-- soft spoken and well mannered with pretty blue eyes that closed slightly when he smiled.

In the front seat were Konoha-- driving-- and Yachi, currently fighting with the radio and Konoha’s phone. 

In the car behind you was someone named Kuroo-- also a friend of Bokuto and Akaashi-- Kaori, Goshiki, and Semi-- a friend of Shirabu, Goshiki, and Tendo. Kuroo was almost ecstatic to be going, but Semi had seemed like he would rather be doing anything else as he climbed into the passenger seat of Kuroo’s car.

The car in front contained Tendo, Bokuto, Yukie, and-- god bless him-- Shirabu. You were sure he was losing his mind as Tendo guided him towards the location of the amusement park. The details on how exactly this had come about were lost on you, but you vaguely recalled a drunken bet made two nights ago and a video that Tendo refused to share properly, but assured you was proof that the group had agreed to the terms of said bet and then lost. Spectacularly. Supposedly.

“So, how did you meet everyone?” Akaashi asked, turning to look at you. The scenery outside was turning quickly from civilization to wilderness, the trees growing thicker the further you drove until you couldn’t tell one trunk from the next. 

Humming, you rested your chin in your hand, bracing your elbow on the door. This was the worst part of meeting someone new during a trip-- tedious small talk. But you had to start somewhere, so you said, “I met Kaori in one of our classes and ‘Toka-- er, Yachi--” The girl turned around at the sound of her name and waved. “-- is my roommate. They kind of introduced me to everyone else.”

Truth be told, you weren’t sure how they had become your core group of friends. From loud and boisterous Bokuto to sullen and taciturn Shirabu, you adored all of them, but you had had your own group of friends before meeting them. Most of those old friends had faded from sight as you found yourself absorbed in your new ones and, while a part of you felt bad, it was just a part of life.

“What about you?” you asked, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “How do you know them?”

Konoha snickered from the front seat and Akaashi cut him a glare before turning back to you. “I’ve been friends with Konoha, Bo, and Tetsuro since highschool. Kaori and Yukie were our managers,” he said.

Konoha made a turn onto a road who’s name sign had long since fallen off the rusty pole, and you wondered just how far out you had traveled. It didn’t feel like it had been long since you left, but you recognized nothing around you and there was no sign of life. 

“So, everyone but ‘Toka and I were friends in highschool, huh?” You chuckled. “What are the odds?”

Akaashi laughed with you, fiddling with his fingers as he turned back to look out his window. 

The car was now filled with the sound of music, overtaking the silence that fell between the four of you. Konoha was focused on driving and you knew Yachi was more than a little nervous-- you had almost expected her to back out and accept whatever payback Tendo had planned for it afterwards.

“Do any of you guys know anything about this place?” you asked, leaning forward and resting your chin on Yachi’s seat. Through the windshield, you could see Tendo’s shaved head and Bokuto’s spiky locks in the backseat, and worried for poor Shirabu’s sanity. “How did Tendo even know this place existed?”

“It’s an old legend,” Akaashi spoke up softly. 

Both you and Yachi turned to look at him, the latter’s breath hitching because everyone knew when those words were said, the story was going to be unpleasant.

Konoha cursed as he hit a pothole, muttering Tendo’s name under his breath as he righted the car between the faded lane lines, and Akaashi smiled at that before looking back to you.

“I doubt most people have heard of it,” he began, popping his knuckles one at a time. “It’s more of a local thing, really.”

“Well then how do you know about it?” you asked curiously, quirking a brow. You knew Bokuto grew up in Tokyo, which meant Akaashi had as well, and you were well outside of the city limits.

Akaashi smiled, tipping his head to the side and for the first time there was something other than soft indifference in it. “I enjoy these types of places and legends. It’s a hobby, you might say. This particular amusement park was meant to be scary in nature and didn’t stay open for long due to unexplained deaths and disappearances.”

Yachi squeaked, and you cast her a glance before resting your hand on her shoulder. This was probably not the best story for someone as easily scared as she was, but it was too late now, and you knew there was curiosity beneath the fear.

“That sounds way too vague,” you said, lips curling up at the corners. “That’s what everyone says about places like this. It’s not scary.”

Your skepticism was met with laughter and he said, “True. The police at the time pinned the problems on faulty attractions or poor background checks, saying there must have been a serial killer hired without anyone realizing. Sounds to me like they just couldn’t figure out what was causing it.”

You rolled your eyes, nodding along. If the park was as old as Tendo said, it could really have been faulty attractions, but you weren’t buying the serial killer story. It sounded too far-fetched compared to being crushed by an unstable support beam. 

Akaashi continued, voice dropping in what might have been a scary attempt at atmosphere if the sun wasn’t framing his pretty features in a golden glow behind him. “The locals all said that the place was haunted, too many deaths had built up negative energy, trapping the spirits of those killed there. Unable to escape, they grew angry and the deaths continued until authorities labeled the park unsafe and banned any more visitors. And then--”

“What the hell?” Konoha cut him off, hitting the brakes a little harder than necessary.

Akaashi’s seat belt locked and he grunted, rubbing at the new red mark on his neck as he asked, “What’s going on?”

“Dunno,” Konoha replied, putting the car in park. “Sorry about that. Shirabu is getting out of the car.”

The car behind you pulled up as you were getting out, eyes wide as you watched Tendo lay a map out on the trunk of Shirabu’s car.

“We’re lost,” you said, sighing in exasperation.

A tall figure blocked out the sun in front of you and you squinted up into the face of Kuroo. He was giving you a catlike grin, ruffling his messy rooster hair as he said, “Sure seems that way, princess. This place is in the middle of nowhere. I’ll be surprised if we even find it.” He guided you over to the car where the others were gathered, snickering at the look of surprise on your face. “What?”

“You know about this place too?” you asked, glancing at Akaashi on the other side of the car. He cast you a small, closed eyed smile. “Akaashi was telling us about it in the car.”

Kuroo chuckled, raising a brow at his friend. “Yeah, being friends with Akaashi has its share of hazards.”

“Look, I’m pretty sure we’re here,” Tendo said, interrupting your conversation. He was pointing to a small line that looked just like any other on the map, aside from the major roadways and cities. If he was right, you were a decent ways out of the city and your watch read 1:01pm. “If we just follow this road and then this one, it’ll lead us straight past the village and to the park.”

Shirabu looked skeptical, spinning the map around to look at it as well. He wasn’t exactly wrong but how could he really tell? All the smaller roads looked the same and they couldn’t even confirm the name of the road because there was no sign. It had also been ages since they last saw a house or even another car, so asking anyone was out of the question too.

“This is stupid,” he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. No one besides Tendo really wanted to be there-- he ignored the fact that Kuroo was just as excited as his weirdo friend to be going and that Akaashi had jumped at the opportunity as well-- and it would be so much easier to just turn around and go to Hinata’s party. “We should just go home before we get lost.”

Tendo frowned at that, sharing a look with Kuroo before saying, “We aren’t lost*. It’s not much further now. Just trust me.”

The others were all inclined to agree with Shirabu, you included, but arguing with Tendo was like arguing with a brick wall-- pointless. He had already tricked you into agreeing to this endeavor and at this point backing out would be both a waste of time and gas. Shirabu was too smart to get lost anyway but, if you were lucky, Tendo was wrong and you wouldn’t be able to find the place at all.

“Do you really think we’ll be able to find it?” Yachi asked once you were safely back in the car. 

Akaashi hummed beside you, but you said, “God I hope not. I was looking forward to Hinata’s party and if we get back quick enough we might still make it.”

Konoha looked at you in the rearview, eyes crinkled as he snickered. “What, are you scared, _____? Afraid the ghosts are gonna get ya?”

Scoffing, you dug through your bag for your phone. A check an hour ago had revealed one bar, but now the words ‘No Service’ blazed across the service banner. “No, I’m not scared. There are just a thousand better things to be doing that than breaking my neck on rusty amusement park rides.”

“Sounds like cowardice to me,” he answered, laughing at you through the mirror. 

Sticking your tongue out at him, you turned back to the window, sighing as the scenery passed by in a blur. Konoha and Akaashi talked a lot about volleyball, Yachi pitching in occasionally. You knew she had managed her highschool volleyball team and knew everyone else in the group to some degree, but most everything sports related went over your head. 

Still, Akaashi made some effort to get to know you, asking about highschool and what classes you were taking. You told him about your major and asked what his was, finding out he was a literature major and constantly busy, explaining why you had never met him before. He, Kuroo, and Semi were the busiest out of all their friends, often skipping out on get togethers in order to study, work, or-- in Semi’s case-- practice with his band.

A little while later, while Yachi and Konoha were having a heated discussion about their favorite subjects, you caught the first glimpse of something besides trees. Turning to look out the windshield, you saw brake lights already lighting up and the car began to slow.

“Well, we found the village, at least,” Tendo said, reading the faded sign displaying the name of the town. “I didn’t expect it to be abandoned too, though.”

Everyone was gathered in the middle of the road, looking down the mainstreet of the village. Windows were busted out and boarded up, paint faded on rotten clapboards, and roofs missing tiles or riddled with holes. The street was littered with potholes and the whole town had an eerie sense of unnatural quiet. Everyone shifted on their heels, slowly making their way back towards the cars without a word and piling in. 

Even Tendo looked unnerved.

The town disappeared behind you but in the distance you could see the towering track of a roller coaster above the treeline. Even from so far away you could see that the paint was faded off of it, the sun filtering through clouds and casting the whole area in shades of grey. To you, it seemed like the forest was darker, the trees packed more closely together, and your heart began to thump in your chest.

“You okay?” Akaashi’s gentle voice asked in your ear. His hand landed on your shoulder, colder than expected, and you shivered underneath his touch. “You look like you’ve already seen a ghost.”

You nodded, looking over to find him giving you a look of amused concern, one corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile. “Just nervous. That town was creepy as hell and it freaked me out a little.”

“Me too!” Yachi squeaked from the front seat, turning around to give you a pleading look. “Don’t you dare leave me, _____.”

Laughter filled the car then and you patted Yachi on the shoulder. “Wouldn’t dream of it, ‘Toka.”

The towering sign for the park appeared up ahead and the car fell silent all over again as brake lights lit up again. Broken glass and gravel littered the parking lot, which was smaller than expected for how big the park looked. 

Everyone seemed to hesitate on getting out of the cars. Tendo was the first, followed by Kuroo, and then Akaashi. Like it was a signal, the rest of you followed, Yachi clinging onto your hand and Kuroo and Akaashi seeming to stand behind you protectively, close enough that you could feel warmth radiating off them.

“Do we really have to go in there?” Goshiki asked, eyeing the ticket booth with disdain. The paint on it, like everything else, was faded, the wood rotten and the window and door busted out. The latter creaked on its hinges, filling the still air with an unsettling noise that mixed with the faint sounds of creaking metal and leaves fluttering in the wind.

Everyone shuffled back towards the cars a little at his question, but Tendo took a step forward, resting his hand on the turnstile. “Since we’re actually here, may as well take a look around.”

Without another moment of hesitation, he hopped over it, peering around with an unusually quiet interest. It was the first time since you had met Tendo that he had nothing to say, his already pale face seemingly devoid of color, making his vibrant, sleepy eyes pop out even more.

Groaning, you, Shirabu, and Goshiki stepped forward, dragging Yachi with you as you climbed over the turnstile as well. You couldn’t just let Tendo wander off into the dangerous park alone. The others followed suit, muffled whispers and conversations floating through the air as they spread out in the area. 

The forest had started taking back over through the concrete, weeds and grass sprouting up through the cracks and pushing the cobblestones up and out of place. Vines of ivy and moss hung from the powerpoles, vendor booths, and some attractions further back, swaying in the gentle breeze. The buildings were dark inside, but through the gloom you could make out mannequins and shelves devoid of merchandise.

The bell dinged on the first one Tendo pushed open-- a souvenir shop. It was empty except for dust and garbage, as were the next few you entered.

Slowly but surely the group made their way further into the park, Yachi clinging onto you the whole time. Akaashi and Kuroo were right behind the two of you, Shirabu and Semi in front, forming a kind of guard while Tendo and Bokuto led the way. Kaori clung to Goshiki, who looked like he was putting on a brave front despite his pink cheeks and the nervousness in his eyes.

For all his grumbling, Shirabu looked interested as he eyed all the buildings and machinery. It was quiet, devoid even of the sound of birdsong or humming bugs, and it unsettled you.

“Oh look, it’s the pirate ship ride!” Bokuto yelled suddenly, breaking the deathly silence.

Everyone jumped, Shirabu hissing at him to shut up while Yukie shrieked, latching onto him. Bokuto had the decency to look abashed but still steered the group towards the derelict platform, testing his weight on the creaky metal stairs on his way up.

The deck of the ship was littered with leaves and dust, the seats worn down and showing stuffing and springs after however many years left in the element. There were signs of rust on the metal and the whole thing shifted slightly to emit a creak.

“Um, Bo, I don’t think that’s safe,” Kuroo called out, grabbing your arm to stop you from following up behind him. 

Tendo and Goshiki were up beside him, examining the boat itself and, before anyone knew it, the former had hopped into it.

“Tendo!” Shirabu called, a trace of panic in his voice. His fingers were wrapped around the railing, paint flakes coming away under his touch hand as he prepared to spring up the stairs, but everyone’s eyes were locked on Tendo’s precarious creep down the middle aisle. “Get out of there before you get hurt, idiot!”

“It’s fine, Shirabu,” he called, now standing at the bow. “It’s kinda cool actually. I can see more of the park from here.”

Bokuto landed with a thump a moment later, a louder creak ringing out than when lanky Tendo had landed, and everyone took a collective breath and held it. 

But as before, it held, and he joined Tendo up by the bow.

“Wow, he’s right!” he called, holding his hand above his eyes like a visor and peering out over the park. It was certainly bigger than he imagined for being in the middle of nowhere. “There’s a house over that way!”

“Probably the haunted house,” Tendo said, straining to see what Bokuto was looking at. In the distance were two stilted, twisted steeples painted in different hues. One was flamboyant and bright, the other dark and dreary, even compared to the state of disrepair of the rest of the park. “I see a funhouse too, I think. Looks pretty freaky. Wanna check ‘em out?”

“Hell yeah,” Bokuto shouted, whipping around to look at the rest of you.

Shirabu looked ready to blow a gasket, and Yachi looked ready to faint, but everyone else looked intrigued. Even you couldn’t help but be a little curious about it, having free range to explore the most interesting rides in the park. Wasn’t it everyone’s dream to be able to see what they were like without restraint? 

The sun was just beginning to fade behind the treeline, turning the clouds a thin shade of orange, but the lure of seeing something interesting had dissolved any real fear.

The two men met Goshiki on the platform and made their way back down to the rest of the group, eyes shining bright with the promise of adventure.

“I told you it wouldn’t be so bad!” Tendo said as if the stunt he just pulled hadn’t taken years off all your lives. Jumping haphazardly onto a decade old, rusted out death trap attraction at an abandoned amusement park hours from the nearest hospital wasn’t going to earn him any genius awards.

On the way towards the supposed attractions, you came across the carousel. Its metal panels were tarnished, the paint worn away from them and the animals, the mirrors grimy with dirt. Vines and ivy climbed up everywhere. The platform shifted when Kuroo stepped onto it, Tendo hot on his heels followed closely by Bokuto. 

“Let’s go see, ‘Toka,” you said, tugging her forward by the hand. Kaori took your other one, squeezing, while Akaashi guided you with a gentle hand on your back.

“Look at this,” someone said, and you turned to find Semi holding a faded paper. “It looks like a poster claiming someone was kidnapping people.”

“How the hell is it still here?” Konoha asked, peering at it around Semi’s arm. “It should have disintegrated a long damn time ago.”

“Dunno,” Semi said with a frown. Trying to see the paper, you were crowded against Semi by Yachi and Kaori and flinched when you realized how hot he was. “It was wedged in the frame of the mirror.”

The whole thing was faded but still legible, due presumably to being tucked into the mirror, and appeared to be a flyer issued by the park itself.

Due to the recent disappearances, park security has been tightened. Please stay aware of your surroundings and report and suspicious activity immediately.

“You were right, Akaashi,” you said, glancing up at the man standing behind you. “They really did think someone was kidnapping people.”

“A lot of the people were never found,” Semi said, folding the sheet up neatly and tucking into his pocket. “It’s not surprising they thought that.”

“Ohhhh, maybe the bodies are still here,” Tendo said, wiggling his fingers over Konoha’s shoulders. “Maybe it was actually the workers kidnapping people and they kept the bodies in a secret place.”

“Like where?” Shirabu asked, giving him an exasperated, skeptical look. It was getting late and they were wasting time just hanging around. He wasn’t particularly thrilled at the idea of being in the park after dark, going to possibly the scariest attraction in the place, but if they were going to do it, they needed to just get it done. “The authorities probably tore this place apart looking for them.”

Tendo shrugged, looking thoughtful. “Maybe they hid them in the haunted house. Maybe there’s a hidden room somewhere that only the workers knew how to open.”

“Could you not?” Yukie asked, slapping Tendo on the arm. “We’re going there, in case you forgot, pea brain. Way to freak us out.”

Yachi was clinging onto Kaori now, staring at Tendo with wide, frightened eyes and he almost looked repentant.

“Or, you know, could be anywhere. The haunted house would be a pretty obvious place to hide it, wouldn’t it?” he said, rubbing the back of his head. Beckoning to Yachi, she went reluctantly, letting Tendo tuck her under his arm. “Don’t worry, Yach. I’ll protect you, ‘kay?”

You and Kaori snickered at the shade of red her face turned, and Shirabu sighed.

“Can we just get going before it gets too late?” he asked, turning and leading the way down the path. The shadows were slowly lengthening, orange mixing with shades of pink and purple in the sky.

Semi fell into step beside you, Yukie on your other side. Goshiki and Konoha were having a conversation about the derelict rollercoaster to the right, and you allowed your attention to drift to it. It was eerie, the faded paint and rusted metal tracks looming like a foreboding beacon above you. Staring the way you were, your foot caught a displaced cobblestone and you went sprawling with a yelp.

Before you could smack the ground, a strong, warm hand wrapped around your upper arm and hauled you back up. It hurt, causing a sharp ache in your shoulder, but it still hurt less than the concrete probably would have. Looking up at your savior, you gave him a half smile.

“Thanks, Semi,” you said, rubbing your shoulder.

But he was frowning at you-- not that that was any different than the look he’d worn all day-- but this one was marred by soft concern. “Are you alright? You’re awfully cold.”

“O-Oh. No, I’m fine. Just got distracted by the coaster,” you said, giggling in embarrassment. “It is a bit chilly though, now that you mention it. I didn’t notice.”

There was a moment's hesitation, then the sound of a zipper being drawn down. A weight settled across your shoulders, surrounding you with an unfamiliar cologne, and your cheeks heated up at the realization that he had given you his jacket.

“That’s okay, Semi, really,” you said, shrugging the jacket off. “It isn’t that bad, and it’s my own fault. I left mine in the car.”

“No worries, _____,” he said, and for the first time you could see a small smile on his face in the dim light. “I’m not cold, so you can take it.”

“Well, thanks, I guess,” you said, pulling it back around your shoulders. It was warm and you smiled when you caught him looking at you. He was wearing a peculiar look, kind but almost possessive, and he licked his lips once before looking forward again.

You shivered, unsure if you were just seeing things. The park had rattled your nerves and Semi was just being nice. You didn’t know him well enough to make a judgement call like that and forced down the uneasiness, taking your place beside him again.

“Smooth move, klutz,” Konoha quipped, nudging your back. Goshiki and Shirabu snickered and you flipped them off over your shoulder, looping your other arm with Yukie.

The steepled spires of the haunted house came into view, beside which stood the funhouse, like Tendo said. Both looked terrifying in the dying light of the sun. Like everything else, the paint was almost gone, shingles missing from the roofs which were adorned with holes.

Without thinking, you reached out and grabbed Semi’s arm, pressing yourself to it. He glanced at you for a moment, a soft smile flitting across his face before looking at Tendo, who was staring between the two buildings.

“I wanna go in the funhouse,” Tendo said, turning back to the rest of the group. Setting his hands on his hips, he looked around at everyone. “Should we go as a group?” Kuroo shifted, pointing his feet towards the haunted house. “I kinda wanna go in there, actually.”

“Well no one should go anywhere alone,” Shirabu said firmly, and everyone nodded in agreement. If someone got hurt, no one would know for ages and then there was the long ride back on top of it.

“So we’ll split up. Everyone pick a house,” Tendo said, clapping his hands. 

Yukie’s arm around yours disappeared and she scurried over to Tendo, looking at you apologetically. Yachi took her place instead, looking for all the world like she was going to collapse from fright, and you gave her a concerned look.

“I’m going wherever you go,” she said, and you raised a brow. 

Before you could answer, Kuroo’s arm slung around your shoulders, looming over Yachi’s tiny form. “It looks like everyone’s decided. Pretty even split. Let’s meet back here in--” He checked his watch. “Two hours? That should be enough time to see everything.”

You opened your mouth to object, but Tendo nodded while Shirabu set the timer on his watch. “Everyone be careful, please. We really can’t afford any injuries.”

Yachi looked up at the dark house looming before you while the other group made their way towards the funhouse. 

You could hear Tendo’s voice echo back, saying, “That’s the reason we have you here, Shirabu. You’re a doctor and all.”

Shirabu said something in return, but it was lost in the distance as you were herded towards the haunted house. The doors hung open, swinging in the breeze and creaking.  It seemed like the house sucked all the warmth from the air the closer you got to it, and you squeezed Semi’s arm in yours.

“Scared, princess?” Kuroo whispered in your ear, raising the hairs on the back of your neck when his warm breath met your cold skin. “You shouldn’t be. We’re here with you.”

The steps leading into it sagged beneath your weight, the wood softer than it should’ve been and it came as no surprise when one broke beneath Semi’s weight. He cursed while you and Yachi pulled back, keeping him from falling over and potentially hurting himself. It took Akaashi and Kuroo both to pull him up out of the hole and a quick check revealed his jeans had protected his leg.

“Are you alright?” you whispered, looking up into Semi’s unamused face. He was wearing a hard scowl, his grip on you iron clad now as he guided you up the steps.

“Sure,” he said, eyes softening when he looked down at you. “Just annoyed.”

Inside, the light from your phones seemed to be swallowed by the darkness. The dust was thick and the air musty and humid. Cobwebs hung from everything, casting long shadows into the darkness beyond the halo of your flashlights.

Yachi yelped, tripping over a rotted track board and would have dragged you down if you weren’t holding onto Semi so tightly. His heat was almost a comfort now, driving away the persistent chill that seemed to emanate from the ramshackle walls. You couldn’t tell where the fabricated deterioration ended and true rot began.

“This way then?” Akaashi asked, leading the way into the first door. It was the kitchen area, set up to look like a butcher shop. A thick layer of dust settled over everything, motes flurrying through the painfully white light from your phones in an eerie dance that made it even harder to see.

Old props lay on the worn countertops, splotches of what was likely-- hopefully-- fake blood a dark black on the faded wood and laminate. Someone had a hand on your back while Akaashi examined a chain hanging from the ceiling, something hanging from the end of it. It made a strange noise when he pushed it, a crackly, grinding noise like it was rusty. It wouldn’t be a surprise, with the humidity as high as it is. 

“That’s a little unsettling,” Kuroo admitted, and you all jumped when a loud crash rang out somewhere further down.

“Now would be the time to leave if we were in a horror movie,” you hinted through gritted teeth, even as Kuroo stepped back out into the hall. He scanned the darkness, his phone hanging by his side, the light pointed towards the floor. “What do you expect to see anyway, genius?”

He turned back to wink before disappearing into the dark and you groaned, straining your eyes to see anything. His light was lost in the gloom and you released Yachi’s arm, taking a step forward. Semi allowed himself to be dragged along with you while Goshiki held Yachi, petting her hair as she whimpered.

Swearing, you and Semi trudged down the hallway, listening for any noises but heard nothing besides the sounds of an old building settling. Your voice caught in your throat when you opened your mouth to call for Kuroo, your ire failing in the face of the oppressive darkness in the heart of the house. Swiping a cobweb off your face, you shined your phone around, lighting up a destroyed living room area, two hallways, and a staircase.

“You don’t think he went upstairs, do you?” Semi whispered, following your line of sight.

Swallowing, you said, “God I fuckin’ hope not. This is so creepy, can’t we just leave him?”

He chuckled against his will, a quiet, rough noise as he tried to stifle it. “‘Fraid not. I don’t wanna deal with the cops.”

Heaving a sigh, you pointed the light down to the floor and found no sign of footprints in the thick dust. Flashing it behind you, you saw your own and Semi’s clearly visible and frowned. “Hey, look.”

Semi scoured the floor, waving his light all around you. “He definitely came this way.”

Nodding, you pointed the light back in front of you, down the hallway, but it was unable to break more than a few inches of darkness. “Okay, now I’m really freaked out. Where is he?”

New light joined your meager one, shuffling footsteps coming to a stop just behind you. 

Akaashi’s hand landed on your shoulder, peering over your head at where you were staring.

“This way,” Semi said after a moment of silence. It was broken only by Yachi’s occasional sniffle and you wondered if you shouldn’t just return to the front door and let Semi and Akaashi handle the rescue. But gentle pressure on your arm and shoulder guided you down, sniffling at the dust before you broke out into a sneeze.

The floor creaked beneath your feet, making the already eerie feeling worse as you crept down the hall. There were faded, torn paintings lining the walls, a few false doors, and windows painted black and boarded up. You couldn’t tell if the paint peeling up the walls was due to age or intent, but it certainly didn’t help settle your unease. 

“Careful,” Semi said suddenly, jerking you sideways into him. The cold hand slid off your shoulder and a light revealed a hole in the middle of the floor, where you had been about to step.

“Thanks,” you breathed, swallowing harshly. The dust was starting to sting your eyes and you repressed another sneeze, rubbing your nose. 

Skirting around the hole, it opened into another room, what appeared to be a library. Overstuffed armchairs littered the room, the shelves lining the walls stacked with what were likely fake books. There was no sign of Kuroo, but Semi led you further into the room carefully.

He wasn’t careful enough, though.

Once second you were clinging to him, the next you heard a crack and then you were experiencing the most curious sensation. Your stomach swooped as the light disappeared, and you realized belatedly that you were falling. Something warm, almost scalding wrapped around you, and your fall stopped short with a grunt of impact.

You lay there stunned for several long moments, head spinning and heart beating hard enough that you could feel it in your ears. The dark was only furthering your disorientation and you only realized you were laying on something when it moved beneath you.

Sitting up, you felt something slump over your shoulders before coughing filled your ears.

“Semi?” you whispered hoarsely. Above you, you registered screaming and looked up only to be blinded by light.

Semi grunted behind you but didn’t move, breathing heavy against your back. From above, you could hear muted conversation before the shrieking stopped.

“_____, Semi, are you both okay?” Akaashi’s concerned voice reached your ringing ears, and you nodded in response.

It took you a moment to realize he probably couldn’t see you, calling up, “Yeah, I think so. Semi--”

“‘M fine,” he yelled, though he sounded winded. 

“Are you sure?” you asked, wrapping a hand around the wrist dangling in front of you. A few feet away lay your phone, face down, the light muted but visible, and you sighed in relief. “You caught me, are you sure*?”

Semi chuckled, a rough noise. “Yeah, I’m sure. Trust me.”

“You guys stay there,” Akaashi commanded, then turned back to Goshiki and Yachi to say something. “I’ll find a way down to you.”

He disappeared and you scrambled forward, snatching your phone up. Moving back to the relative safety of Semi’s presence, you shined it around. 

The basement, you decided upon seeing the array of monster props and torture machines, was perhaps the most terrifying part of the house. It was only heightened by your adrenaline rush, the shadows seeming to jump out to your paranoid mind.

As the adrenaline wore off, you took stock of your extremities. Semi really had cushioned you-- nothing hurt-- and you turned to face him.

In the light, he really did look fine, even his breathing had evened out, and he looked back at you with a smirk. “Told you. I’m tougher than you think.”

“I’m beginning to realize that,” you admitted, getting to your feet. You didn’t let Semi get far, linking your arm with his and clinging to him, much to his amusement.

His eyes adjusted to the dark faster than yours and he located his phone near the base of a rusty filing cabinet. The screen was cracked-- which he cursed-- but it still worked, and he turned the flashlight back on.

“This is creepy as fuck,” he muttered, thumping the model of a skeletal doctor to see the dust swirl. There was a medical table in the center of the room with a light looming over it. He assumed there was supposed to be a body laying on said table and, in the dark, it was a scary thought that it was no longer there. “I hope Akaashi hurries up. I don’t like it here.”

You couldn’t stifle the small giggle, though you covered your mouth in a poor attempt. It was the nerves, you were sure, because as he moved away you held tighter, stumbling after him. He tried one door, the handle stiff enough that you recognized it to be fake. There was a set of metal double doors on the other side of the room and those swung open with an eerie grinding noise, scraping across the concrete floor.

The hallways extended to either direction, cells lining the wall in front of you and you shuddered. “Let’s go, Semi, please,” you begged, tugging him down to the left. It was the same direction that you had come from on the floor above and hoped that it would lead you to a staircase or something*.

Semi went along reluctantly, flashing his light in all the cells you passed. Most were empty, besides the occasional bed or other prop. Some contained chains mounted in the wall and his eyes flashed to you.

The hallway opened up into what may have been a waiting room if most of the furniture hadn’t been utterly destroyed. As you scanned the area, there was a noise from up ahead and you jerked to a stop, scurrying back to Semi’s side. Peeking around him while he stared down the hall, you kept a tight grip on his arm, feeling the muscles flex and tense beneath your hand. A shadow moved in the light and you nearly screamed as Kuroo stepped into view, followed closely by Akaashi.

Neither carried a light and your heart leapt in your throat when you caught a momentary flash of light reflecting off of Kuroo’s eyes before it disappeared.

Still hiding behind Semi, the four of you regarded each other in silence for a moment, before Kuroo chuckled.

“Well, this is certainly convenient, though I didn’t expect you to get involved,” he said, leaning sideways against the wall. He looked as relaxed as usual while Akaashi lurked behind him, staring at you peeking around Semi’s arm. 

He held out a hand to you but you held back, suddenly unsure of Kuroo’s words. With your heart in your throat, you looked up into Semi’s relaxed, impassive face. He made no moves, just watched the other two linger in front of your only escape route.

Then he shrugged.

“Dumb luck.”

The men burst into laughter and you squeaked, taking a step back from Semi. Before you could get anywhere, his hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you forward.

“Easy, kitten. We don’t wanna hurt you,” Kuroo said, stepping further into the room. His eyes lit up once again in the light from your flashlight, mischievous brown turning solid gold. His pupils narrowed and elongated, his smile seeming to become more sharp as he stared down at you.

You breathed in sharply, taking a step back into Semi’s chest. Regardless of whether he was in on whatever they had planned, he was the safest option as opposed to whatever the hell Kuroo was.

The grip on your wrist loosened but came to your shoulders instead, keeping you in place with a warning squeeze. You had already guessed he was tough, given he had taken the full brunt of the impact earlier, but you now suspected he wasn’t human either.

Akaashi came forward last, looking as placid and calm as ever, cold fingertips stroking down your cheek.

You shivered.

None of these men were human, if you had to hazard a guess. Staring up at them, you felt your heart drop.

“W-Where are ‘Toka and Goshiki?” you asked, and were proud that your voice barely cracked. Maybe if you reminded them people would be looking for you, they would back off, allowing you to escape.

Kuroo chuckled, flipping the zipper of your-- Semi’s-- jacket up in what would have been a cute manner under different circumstances. “Keiji here sent them looking for the others in the funhouse, but they’ll never find the doorway down here. Tendo was right, there are lots of hidden doors in this place.”

“What are you? What are you going to-- to d-do to me?” you asked quickly, wrapping your fingers around his wrist as he started to tug the zipper down. You were stalling at best, your heart thumping harshly in your chest. If there was any chance of escape, you couldn’t figure it out. You had no idea where this door was and you had the impression you wouldn’t be able to outrun them anyway.

“I don’t suppose it would hurt to tell you,” he answered, taking a step closer. You tried to shrink away, huddling down into Semi’s oversized jacket, but it only seemed to entice them. “I am a yokai, I assume you know what that is? Akaashi is your run of the mill demon.”

If that offended Akaashi, he didn’t show it, simply widening his smile and blinking slowly. His once serene blue eyes turned pitch black and when he blinked again, they were normal.

“I’m just a werewolf,” Semi said, breathing against your ear. His hands slid down, catching the zipper of his jacket between his fingers and drawing the zipper down slowly.

“W-Wait, please,” you tried, grabbing and tugging at his wrist to no avail. He was far stronger, and you were like a fly in comparison. “Please, can we just go?”

Kuroo cupped your cheek, a moderate temperature compared to the other two, and his smile seemed to soften a fraction. “No, kitten. Keiji and I have been waiting for this for far too long. The wolf probably just likes how you smell.”

You weren’t sure what that meant, but the deep, pointed inhale Semi took against your neck seemed to verify the statement. The jacket fell to the floor with barely a whisper and then your phone was placed face up on a table, beside the men’s, and the combined light filled the room. 

It felt like you couldn’t get enough air as warm hands skimmed down your stomach, stretching the soft fabric of your t-shirt out, before settling on your hips. Lips met your neck, tentative at first, trailing up to your jaw, causing you to shiver.

The heat radiating off of Semi and Kuroo was getting to you, Semi’s soft lips flitting over pleasure spots causing your back to arch. You didn’t want to like it, but when Kuroo’s hands slipped up your shirt and over your ribs, your muscles tensed in unwanted arousal. Your nipples were already peaking inside your bra, the hairs on the back of your neck raising at the first graze of teeth on your skin.

“W-Wa-ait--” you breathed and, for a moment, you thought they really would stop because they both paused.

It was over in a moment, a soft kiss pressed to your other cheek as Kuroo pushed your bra up over your tits. His hands were soft as they cupped the tender flesh, giving gentle squeezes that went straight to your core, as much as you protested. “Not gonna happen, kitten. May as well enjoy it. We’ll take good care of you.”

A new sensation joined the heat surrounding you then, Kuroo moving to the side to allow Akaashi to join in. His hands were cold compared to the other two, one on your side and one cupping your unoccupied breast. The difference was enough to make you gasp, back arching on its own into their touch, and they at least had the decency not to snicker.

“You really do smell good, princess,” Semi whispered in your ear, nipping the lobe. “I can smell everything, even how wet you’re getting for us.”

Craning your neck away from him only opened you up to another smattering of kisses and you hated that he was right. They were getting to you, their gentle touches on your body doing everything right, like they had been your lovers for years rather than men you just met today. It made it harder to think than it already was, mind still racing in a futile effort to formulate some way to escape, but even you could recognize your body giving up.

Your shirt came up and over your head, disappearing somewhere outside of your vision. There was a collective intake from the men in front of you, and Semi groaned over your shoulder.

“I knew you would be so pretty, kitten,” Kuroo cooed, palming one tit again. He relished in the way you twitched when he pinched your nipple, then he cupped both, bouncing and watching them jiggle. “Been watching you all day, we couldn’t wait to get our hands on you.”

Akaashi was the first to lean over, wrapping cool lips around one pert bud, and Kuroo stepped back to watch your teeth sink into your lip to stifle any noises.

“Feel good, princess?” Semi asked, and chuckled when you shook your head. “It will soon, then. We won’t hurt you. Just wanna make you feel good.”

The worst part was, you were beginning to enjoy it. It was so tempting to cave, to just let them have their way with you. They were gentle, surprisingly so, and it was knocking down whatever resistance you had left at an alarming rate.

Semi’s hands were almost scalding against your sides, squeezing and kneading as he suckled at your neck, feeling you whine in your throat. “There you go. Just let go.”

The clasp of your bra came loose, and you weren’t even sure who had done it, before it was slid down your arms and dumped, presumably with your shirt.

There were two sets of lips attached to each nipple, your nails digging into your palms to keep from tangling your fingers in someone’s hair but you were losing the will to fight. Your panties were embarrassingly wet, no matter how much your mind insisted you didn’t like it, and you broke your silence when cold fingers drifted down to undo the button of your jeans.

“No please,” you begged, wiggling your hips in your first real display of resistance. Hands clamped down to still them in an iron grip, and a hand clasped your jaw, forcing you to look Kuroo in the eyes.

“What wrong, kitten? You’ve been so good up til now,” he said, stroking your lower lip with his thumb. There were imprints of your teeth in the skin, and he ached to kiss you, but it would have to wait.

“I-I don’t w-want--” you stuttered, tears burning the corners of your eyes as your zipper was pulled down.

Semi interrupted you then, tilting your head just so that he could kiss the corner of your mouth, smirking. “She’s embarrassed because of how wet she is.” Dropping his voice to barely a whisper, he said, “I can smell you, princess. You want this, don’t deny it.”

Shaking your head feebly, you whined when Semi pressed his lips to your cheek, dangerously close to your lips again. It was enough to distract you from your jeans sliding down your legs, until they pooled at your ankles and Akaashi had to tug your shoes off. Your jeans hit the floor shortly afterwards, the air startlingly cool against your now bare skin only to be covered with warmth as the men caged you in again.

It started with two fleeting touches to your inner thighs, which you tried to stop by squeezing them together only for them to pried apart in an instant. Semi took the opportunity to lay another languid kiss to the corner of your mouth, tongue flicking out against your lips.

For a moment, you turned into it only to jerk away, looking in the opposite direction. You knew what they were trying to do and you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of hearing you beg for something you didn’t want. You wondered briefly where the others were and why you could hear nothing from above, until warm hands cupped your tits again.

You bit down on your lip again when Semi circled your nipples with his thumbs, massaging your breasts as he rolled them between his fingers. It was hard to keep quiet when it felt so good, especially when Kuroo and Akaashi were teasing your inner thighs, so close your aching cunt.

Your hips rocked of their own accord, your mind too preoccupied with the warm touches on your tender nipples and stifling your noises, but all three of your attackers smirked.

“Ask, pretty girl,” Akaashi said, speaking for the first time. 

His voice combined with his fleeting, cold touch against the soaked lips of your cunt caused a gasp to break free, hips rolling up in a jerky manner against your will. Your ears burned when they laughed and your teeth sank into your lip again. It was driving you insane, they were so close but you refused to beg for it.

“Aw, did we upset you, kitten?” Kuroo cooed, placing a wet kiss against your hip. “We’re sorry. You’re just so cute we can’t help it. Come on, ask us. Ask us to touch this pretty little pussy and we’ll make it up to you.”

Another swipe across your clit timed with a tug on your nipples broke the seal a second time.

“S-Semi--”

“There she goes,” Semi whispered, tilting your head around to look at him. Tears were spilling down your cheeks as you looked up at him with wide, resigned eyes. His eyes dropped to your parted lips for a moment and you swallowed, blinking the tears away, but didn’t struggle.

The first kiss was tentative, tongue ghosting between your parted lips to test you for a reaction. You only whined into the kiss, leaning in and he delved into your mouth, tongue lapping at yours as he tasted you.

When he pulled away, you hiccupped, letting your head rest on his shoulder as you closed your eyes.

“Please, just touch me. Fuck me, do whatever. I can’t--” you whispered, thighs aching from how tense you had been for god knew how long. It was too much to hold out, not when you were so wet and aching for it anyway. They knew what they were doing, their gentle teasing and buildup working to break down any fight you had and it had worked flawlessly. 

You melted into Semi as Kuroo lifted one leg over his shoulder. Akaashi left a trail of cool kisses down your inner thigh while Kuroo kissed up the opposite one. You didn’t know whether to tremble or whine, so you did both when his nose bumped your clit, and they chuckled again.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it, pretty girl?” Akaashi asked, and you might have mistook it for affection in another situation. “Just relax.”

As if you had a choice. Hot breathe puffed across your folds, teasing just a little more until you were practically dripping on his lips. Only then did his tongue swipe across your clit, your hips jerking harshly. His hot tongue was replaced with a cold one, the two of them taking turns lapping at your clit at such a languid pace that it was more torturous than not being touched at all.

“Fuck, please, stop teasing,” you cried, voice cracking as your back arched. You were desperate at this point, willing to beg or do whatever they wanted. You weren’t getting out of it without doing so anyway, so you might as well enjoy it. “Kuroo, Akaashi, please.”

A sharp pinch to your nipples made you squeal just before Semi devoured your mouth. You could feel the aggravation in the kiss, the way his teeth clacked against yours and his tongue pressed against yours. You made muffled noises against him, one hand coming up to tangle in his hair.

At the same time, Kuroo latched onto your clit properly, and your eyes almost rolled into the back of your head as you rocked your hips against his feverish suckling. The noises he was making filled the quiet space, grunts and would-be moans that terminated against your clit as he worked to make you cum.

Your head was starting to spin from lack of oxygen and intense pleasure. Kuroo wasn’t giving you an inch and your slick hole fluttered around nothing, until something swirled around your entrance before slipping in.

You forgot about the kiss, Semi’s lips hovering against yours as you came with a cry around cold fingers. The temperature difference between Akaashi’s fingers and Kuroo’s lips was mind numbing, your eyelids flickering, trying to stay open before giving in. You didn’t bother to be quiet, letting your moans bounce off the walls. Maybe it would draw the others to you, and you could still get out of this.

Instead of withdrawing his fingers, Akaashi slipped another one in beside the first, kitten licking your still sensitive clit and listening to you whine for him to “Stop, please, too much.” He only smirked, continuing to lap until you relaxed, though the stream of noises never stopped.

There was a moment of hesitation as Kuroo stood, cocking his head in Semi’s direction. With your attention on your throbbing clit and Akaashi’s almost icy touch, you missed the way Semi beckoned to him. Their lips met briefly, allowing Semi to get a taste of you on his lips before Semi dragged him into a deeper one, tongues meeting in a heated tangle. Both men were hard, Semi grinding his clothed erection against the cheek of your ass, the chafing fabric unnoticed against your soft skin.

You squirmed against him when Akaashi crooked his fingers just right inside you, grazing over the swollen sweet spot inside you again and again until you were on the verge of another orgasm. It seemed like no matter how long his fingers stayed inside you, they never heated up. You weren’t even sure if the cold of his tongue flicking over your clit was pleasurable or not but it was such constant pressure that you hurtled towards your second orgasm. Kuroo was quick to stifle it, delving into your mouth for you to taste what remained of you on his tongue.

You came with a cry, convulsing around Akaashi’s fingers for a second time so hard you became light headed. He continued to pet that spot inside you until you were squirming to get away, tugging roughly at his hair.

Your legs shook when he let you down, only Semi’s strong grip keeping you upright. The sound of belt buckles clanging brought you down quickly, and trepidation set your heart racing again. There was no stopping it, but you found yourself trying to back up anyway. 

“Ah,” Kuroo tutted, taking you from Semi’s arm and kissing the crown of your head like he was comforting you. “Don’t start that. We aren’t going to hurt you, kitten.”

No, they certainly hadn’t yet, and you had no choice but to trust his words. Something hard pressed against your ass, hotter even than the rest of Semi. You instinctively jerked away, pressing into Kuroo only to feel something slip between your thighs.

“Excited, aren’t we?” Kuroo drawled, and you could feel the condescension dripping off of him. Semi pressed to your back again, shielding you from the cold, while Kuroo asked, “How are we gonna take her? Semi, you kinda threw a wrench in things, can’t lie.”

Semi shrugged against your back, letting his cock settle between your thighs. You whined, jerking your hips instinctively away from the heat against your folds, but it only served to make him grind into you.

“I want this sweet cunt,” Semi snarled, cupping your jaw in a tight grip and tilting your head away, baring your throat to him. He licked a stripe from your shoulder to just beneath your ear before kissing the soft skin, and you shivered at the possessiveness in his tone.

“Alright, wolfboy smells a mate,” Kuroo said, rolling his eyes. “Akaashi?”

The last of the trio stepped forward again, skimming his fingers down your cheek before leaning in to steal a kiss. “I’m okay with whatever you want, Kuroo. Just wanna feel her around me.”

There was something dark in his eyes that belied his passive words. He was deferring to Kuroo to get things moving, you were almost sure. Like the rest of him, his cock was cool against your thigh, more like a glass dildo you kept at home than a cock attached to a man.

“That makes things easy then,” Kuroo said, clapping his hands and giving you that mischievous smile. If you didn’t know any better-- you didn’t-- you would say his teeth were a little sharper, the canines more pronounced than before. His eyes certainly hadn’t changed, maintaining that almost glowing golden color this whole time. “Semi, lay on the couch. Keiji, you can take her from behind. I want her mouth.”

He sounded like he was giving out instructions to his employees rather than fucking a very reluctant person, but the other two followed his instructions without question. It was an odd sensation, to be talked about as if you weren’t there, as if you had no say over what was happening to you.

Not that you did.

It wasn’t until you were straddling Semi that you realized something. In addition to being hotter than average, he was larger than average, peeking out from between your folds to drip precum just below his bellybutton. The way your stomach swooped made you nauseous and tears fell down your cheeks all over again.

“What’s wrong, princess?” he asked, wiping them away as best he could. You wouldn’t be fooled by the concern in his tone; he wouldn’t stop anyway.

You turned your face away only to jump when a finger slipped your cunt, cool to the touch, followed by a second, only to be removed a second later. They moved instead to your slick rear entrance, circling and massaging until it gave way, eased by your previous orgasms. You fell forward, bracing yourself over Semi, who held your rocking hips still. Two fingers filled you, the stretch no more than a sting but it was uncomfortable nonetheless when you didn’t want it.

Akaashi’s other hand came down, long fingers wrapping around your throat just beneath your chin, pulling you back up to your knees. “Good girl,” he whispered in your ear before forcing your head around so he could capture your lips.

They parted naturally when his tongue glided across them, allowing him access without thought. You couldn’t place his taste; it was like he’d just eaten ice before kissing you, and you moaned into it.

Kuroo, who until then had been content to watch, groaned and stood from the dilapidated chair he had been lounging in. One hand wrapped around your wrist, moving your hand to wrap around his aching cock, desperate for some kind of relief. Your palm was soft against him, and he spit on it twice for good measure before allowing you to curl your fingers around him again. They did so automatically, squeezing tight and he hissed through gritted teeth, slit pupils narrowing further as he watched Akaashi’s tongue delve into your mouth like he wanted his cock to.

All the while, Semi was forcing you to slide along his shaft, slow, calculated moves designed to drag your clit back and forth against him. He could feel you trembling above him, your hands curled into fists against his chest, hips moving with his hands. You dripped down his cock, covering him in your slick and he almost growled at the heady scent. Unlike the other two, he could smell how bad you wanted it and it was driving him wild.

“Akaashi, hurry up,” he snapped, digging his nails into your soft hips hard enough to leave marks if he wasn’t careful.

Akaashi hummed in disapproval, pulling from your mouth to stare impassively at the werewolf. “I don’t want to hurt her, Semi.”

Yet, he withdrew his fingers and you whined at the loss.

“Finally,” Semi hissed, helping Akaashi lift you up so he could slick his cock up against your cunt before settling against your rear hole. “You go first.”

Your toes curled tight enough to cramp as Akaashi gave you a warning nudge before splitting you open. Your jaw dropped, eyes widening as you stared up into the cobwebbed ceiling, waiting for him to bottom out. Thighs trembling in Semi’s hold, you fell back against Akaashi’s chest as his hips met your ass.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he whispered, leaving cool kisses along your shoulder and neck. Goosebumps were raising up your arms and back, and he would have felt bad if you weren’t squeezing around his cock so tight while Semi positioned himself at your dripping hole.

You couldn’t decide if you really wanted two cocks, weren’t sure if you could even take two, but Semi was stretching you so wide you were crying out broken babbles none of them could make out as he seated you flush against his hips. You twitched above him, fluttered around him, squeezed rhythmically while you tried weakly to get away.

The sensation of fullness was one you had never experienced before. Even just Semi’s cock was more than you had ever taken, let alone Akaashi’s cock in your inexperienced asshole. You blinked rapidly, unable to decide if you liked it or not before a hand wound in your hair and you were pulled down. 

Kuroo’s cock bobbed in your face and your jaw dropped automatically, allowing him to smear precum around your lips. He was more salty than bitter as he slipped into your mouth, stuffing himself as far as he could before you started gagging. Pulling back, he gave you a small reprieve to gasp for air before filling your mouth again. There was no fighting his thrusts, you had to force your throat to relax or choke. A mix of drool and tears spilled down your chin as a thick vein dragged against your tongue, dripping off to the floor. In the back of your foggy mind you were disgusted.

When they felt you relax around Kuroo’s cock, his hips moving in a steady rhythm to fuck your throat, Akaashi and Semi moved. 

You spasmed around Kuroo when Semi lifted you up and dropped you back down, your hips meeting with a wet slap, his cock stifling your scream. Akaashi pulled out then, a little more careful as he stuffed himself back in, but the constant push and pull of their hips soon spread fire through your body. Kuroo was heavy on your tongue, Semi and Akaashi bumping and grinding against each other through the thin wall separating your cunt and ass, Semi’s curls stimulating your throbbing, sensitive clit.

You couldn’t fathom how you were careening towards a third orgasm, but Semi’s cock was so thick he couldn’t help but drag along the swollen, gummy sweet spot inside you. Akaashi’s low, pleasured moans in your ear gave you a vague sense of pride. These gorgeous men wanted you, were moaning for you. 

It was enough to make you forget this wasn’t right.

Kuroo thought you were moaning, your throat vibrating around his cock as he facefucked you with abandon. The tight sleeve of your throat only grew tighter when Akaashi’s hand slipped between your legs to pet your clit and Kuroo grunted.

“Keep that up, kitten, and you’re gonna make me cum,” he said, holding your nose down in his curls for a few seconds just to feel you spasm around him.

Semi and Akaashi felt the benefits of it, both your holes clenching around them as you gagged. Semi took the opportunity to grind deep inside you, rolling his hips up so that he pushed against your cervix.

Your thighs trembled around him, a squeal stifled around Kuroo’s cock as you came hard, jerking in Semi’s hold. He snarled, bouncing you on his cock with abandon as Akaashi slammed into you, spreading your clenching hole without care as he moaned.

Kuroo grunted, pumping into your mouth a few more times before pressing your nose into his pelvis and cumming, his lips parted in an ‘o’ and his head tipping back. You had no choice but to swallow until he pulled out and spilled the remnant all over your face, smirking as it mixed with your tears and drool to drip off your chin.

Semi’s back arched off the couch, strong hands pulling you down to sit flush with his hips as he spilled inside you. Your eyes grew wide at the intense heat filling your womb, the warmth rushing up through you at the same time Akaashi came in your ass. Goosebumps erupted across your skin as his cum offset the heat of Semi’s, and your vision swam for a moment from overstimulation.

Semi caught you as you collapsed forward, cradling you to his chest regardless of the mess, petting your hair. 

Akaashi slipped out of you, sharing a small smirk with Kuroo as he sought out your clothes.

“Give me my shirt,” Semi said, catching it from the air when Akaashi threw it. He forced you to sit up, watching you sway with a twisted sense of pride, and wiped the mess from your face. Akaashi and Kuroo took you from there, helping you to dress while you leaned against them, unable to keep from snickering at the state they’d left you in.

“Can you walk, kitten?” Kuroo asked, setting his hands on your shoulders. “Or do you need someone to carry you?”

“I-I can w-walk,” you stuttered, throat raspy. You frowned and grabbed it, swallowing with a wince.

“Good girl,” Kuroo said, dropping a kiss on your lips and smirked when you leaned after him as he pulled away. “We don’t need to worry about you telling anyone, do we?”

Shaking your head, you allowed Semi to wrap an arm around your shoulders, keeping you close to bathe in his warmth as Kuroo led the way up the hidden stairs a little ways down the hall they had been blocking earlier. At the top of the stairs, you could hear voices calling your names and perked up, trying to follow the echoes in the darkness.

“This way,” Kuroo said, leading the way though there wasn’t a speck of light in sight. Your own phone was tucked safely in the pocket of Semi’s jacket, which he had taken back. “Keiji, give me your phone. Appearances.”

Right, couldn’t let the humans know.

Everyone crowded around you, throwing questions all at once, until Shirabu lost his temper. He insisted on looking you and Semi over, just to determine for sure nothing was the matter. 

He seemed a little concerned by how out of it you were, and asked if you hit your head.

Three sets of eyes landed on you, all carrying a different weight as they waited for you to speak.

“Just tired, Shirabu,” you murmured, hiding your face in Semi’s side. “It took ages for them to find us. Can we go home now?”

The tension eased, though you kept your face hidden, allowing him to guide you blindly down the hallway.

It was even colder outside than earlier, and Kuroo took over the spot on your other side, gently shooing Yachi towards the other. She had insisted on keeping you company, watching you with wide, worried eyes while Akaashi and Kuroo whispered together behind her.

Even now, she watched the way the three men hovered around you with curious concern. They treated you like a precious object-- or a possession that needed to be protected.

You nodded in response to something Kuroo said, trying-- if possible-- to curl even closer into Semi. Akaashi hovered in the background, pretty face as impassive as ever until he caught Yachi looking at him.

His lips curled up in a smile, his face softening ever so slightly, and she relaxed. Whatever had happened to you down there, it seemed to spark something in the three men.

Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been that bad.

[kim-miyeon]

Hell Above-Chapter Two

PAIRINGS: Hwang Hyunjin X Female Reader

WARNINGS: Mafia!AU, strong explicit language, family problems, pregnancy,  mentions of birth control, angst, mentions of murder, alcohol, cigarettes,  18+

WORD COUNT: 4.1K

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I Know You’re Tortured Within, Your Eyes Look Hungry Again.

You pushed your hand into the door of the rundown bar, emitting light into its darkness from the outside. The smell of liquor and smoke from lit cigarettes stung your nose as your eyes gazed at the immediate sight of drunks who never made it out from the night before.  Your sight was darkened more due to the gold rimmed sunglasses that held on the bridge of your nose, as your eyes rummaged through the area until they spotted the far table with your cousins sitting. Strutting towards the table, the sound of your heels gaining attention from the lowlife bodies of men surrounding the bar. You rolled your eyes as you passed by and finally reached the table where Seungmin, Minho, Felix and Jeongin all sat.  All four boys stood from their seats to formally greet you as you nodded softly and grabbed the empty chair in front of you to take your seat. As they followed, you brought your arm in front of you , bending it to get a close view of the rose gold watch that rested on your wrist. The time changed to 9:00 AM and you smiled softly looking up at the boys you were waiting for you.  You licked your lips and reached to remove the glasses off your face before folding them and setting it on the table. You leaned back and crossed your arms firmly. 

“I know it's a Saturday morning and we would all rather be anywhere else but here, so lets make it brief.” You advised as you snapped your head to Felix, “What do you have?” 

“Body was disposed of at the location, like you wanted. Police arrived this morning to investigate but the public won’t receive any more information that just another murder in the streets.” Felix informed as he handed you a photo of the crime scene. You extended your hand and grabbed the sheet to look and saw the remnants of ash in a pile by the train tracks. Burned. A form of execution that you found liberating. A way to mark your territory and erase any evidence. All that could remain was the teeth of the victim, but you knew better than to allow such evidence to be kept at the scene of the crime, even when you owned the police. Scanning the photo more, you managed to look at a train cart that stood in the background and to your delight, was a perfect stroke of the letter ‘L’. 

“L for Lee.” You cocked your eyebrow up and looked at Felix who smiled.

“Written in our color, using real material,” Felix emphasized and you nodded pleasantly. 

Blood Red. It was the long standing color of the Lee Family. One that bonded the family together and also was a message to anyone who would know. But to use the blood of the victim as a marking of a murder was the way the Lee’s had practiced their executions for generations, and with the silence of the family, you had managed to make sure that it was incorporated in subtle ways. It helped to know that your money paid the detectives who otherwise would pass along information to other gang leaders, people who could out the Lee Family. Each case of a murder had its own form of marking, this one being the first to truly state something bold. 

“It’s definitely a message for Y.” You handed the picture back to Felix.

“Someone who also had a message for us,” You turned your gaze to Seungmin who spoke up, “He knew you’d kill that man and bring the body there.”

“I can’t say that I’m shocked to hear that,” You smirked “What riddle did he send this time?”

Seungmin handed you a manila envelope and you took it. Opening it to feel a thick piece of paper, you let your fingers pull it out. Your eyes scanned the sheet that was filled with large dots and dashes. The way it looked could cause anyone a headache. It was so much on one page, you hated the way it looked. 

“Morse code?” You looked at Seungmin, in disbelief. “He wants us to decode a morse code message? What the fuck is this guy on?”

“That’s what I’m saying.” Felix chimed in annoyed and you shook your head. 

“How long do you think it will take you to solve it?” You questioned Seungmin as he  took the page back and analyzed it, sucking in air between his teeth. 

“A few hours maybe, definitely by the end of the day. I have other things to work on too. ” He stated and you nodded your head in confirmation. 

“Do that then,” You finally looked over to Minho who had been quiet the whole time and completely unengaged. You watched as he sat back and tapped his fingers against the table and you grew annoyed. He was always like this, so cold. Distant and bluntly just mean. You could tell that he wanted to say something but was holding back, probably trying to prevent another screaming match. You both had been head to head for years and even though you did love him, he managed to make your blood boil just by the way he looked. You sighed loudly.

“Something eating you, Minho?” You asked and he stopped tapping his fingers on the table and slowly looked up at you. You continued, “You look aggravated.”

“I’m fine.” He muttered softly.

“Did you take care of the associates like I asked?”

He scoffed, “You think I can just commit a mass murder of 100+ men overnight without raising the ears of our enemies?”

You tilted your head in an innocent way, “I don’t know,” You paused, “ I assume that you have it under control, am I right?”

“I do have it under control,” He growled. 

“Well, with each second that passes, more of those fuckers keep talking.” You clicked your tongue and Minho looked at you darkly. 

“With each second that passes, one of those leaders are gonna see that message and begin planning.” Minho spat.

“Ohhh, so that’s why you're upset. You don’t like our little message?” You grabbed the photo of the crime scene and looked at it again in amusement. “I think it’s a lovely message to Y.”

“IT’S AN IRRESPONSIBLE MESSAGE,” Minho slammed his hands on the table and yelled at you as you looked up at him coolly. “Y is not the only one after us, Y/N. There are others, like your beloved little husband.

You clenched your jaw tightly at the mention of Hyunjin. Minho shook his head in aggravation. 

“What is even taking you so long Y/N? The longer he stays alive the longer we all have to keep this shit secretive. What are you waiting for?” Minho snapped and then took a quick pause glaring his eyes at you, “Are you not strong enough to pull the trigger? Is that it? Does your little Hyunjin dick you down so well that you can’t find another fuck buddy, huh?”

You slammed the table and stood up angrily. All the boys held in their breath and you took a slow inhale as you tried to bring yourself to a place of peace. You exhaled audibly and you opened your eyes to look back at the table and then directly to Minho. 

“Okay. Everyone listen to me.” You waited for each boy to look at you before you began. “I respect and love each one of you. We are family first and our blood bonds us and makes us strong. You have stood by my side all these years and I am thankful for that.” 

You saw Felix flash an innocent smile and Jeongin nodding his head in agreement to your words. Minho deterred his gaze from you and Seungmin bit his lip preparing for your next words. 

“However, none of you are Won Shik’s child, I am. And my father died and left me with this organization, with my mission. I am the rightful leader of the Lee Family and this is a business and you all work for me. It is not the other way around.” You looked to Minho aggressively. “Hwang Hyunjin will stay alive for as long as I want him to. And if any of you have a problem with that,” You halted and  looked around the table at the boys who were in slight fear of your indirect threats. “I suggest you keep that shit to yourself.” 

You sat back down and watched Minho stand and walk away from the table. You rolled your eyes and Seungmin called out for Minho as you rested your hand on his, shaking your head for him to just let Minho go. You turned your gaze to Jeongin and Felix.

“Speaking about my husband, how was his trip?” 

“Well, you’d be happy to know that he is about to finalize a million dollar contract.” Felix laughed a bit.

“A million dollars I’ll never see.” You leaned back into your chair.

“Still not as much as you thought” Jeongin cutely stated and you snickered,

“Money I can’t even flaunt,” You stated as you gathered yourself, “But I can use it for groceries. I gotta go and pick up some stuff so I will take my leave.” 

“Can I come with you?” Jeongin asked and you smiled.

“Always little one” You patted his head and he smiled back. You looked to Seungmin and Felix who all stood up, “Morse code by tonight?”

“Promise.” Seungmin stated and you smiled. 

“See you all later.” You turned to walk with Jeongin by your side. 

As you walked out of the bar and towards your car, you opened the door and sat in. Jeongin sat next to you and you groaned out.

“He is SO entitled. Why is he such a fucking asshole?” You ranted, more to yourself but loud enough that Jeongin heard.

“He cares alot about you.” Jeongin reassured and you looked at him. “Minho just has a strange way of showing it.”

“He doesn’t care about me. He only cares about himself.” You huffed, “What about the family?”

“Safe. In police protection, set to deport the country.” 

You closed your eyes in relief and then took Jeongin’s hand in comfort. “Thank you Jeongin. I am so sorry that I keep asking you-”

“No Y/N. Don’t apologize.” 

“Jeongin I’m serious. It’s not right of me to keep putting you in those situations, I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.” Jeongin took a hold of your shoulders and made sure you looked at him.

“Nothing is going to happen to me. I will always do what you need me to do. We are family, it's what we do.” You nodded at him and sighed softly. Your phone alarm began to ring through the silence and you whined.

“It’s that time.” You chuckled, pulling your phone to snooze your alarm and reaching into the middle console and pulling out a small packet of pills. Popping on into your hand, you placed the pill in your mouth and dry swallowed it. Jeongin watched the whole scene and after you were done you looked at his sad eyes and laughed. 

“What’s wrong with you?” 

“Why do you take those?” He asked. 

You looked at him in confusion, “ Birth control? Obviously, so I don’t get pre-”

“That’s not what you want.” He interrupted and immediately you felt sadness run through you.

“You know I can’t have a child, Jeongin. It would be chaos.”

“What if a child was the only way?” he responded.  You turned your head, “What if having a child was the only way to end the feud? Giving birth to the heir of both families?”

“The feud can never be ended Jeongin, a child would only cause problems.”

“The love you and Hyunjin have is not fake, what you two have is real and powerful. They say love overcomes hate. You two could unite and bring peace. You wouldn’t have to complete your mission and you two could live, happily, with a family.” He optimistically recommended and you looked down at your wedding ring that rested on your finger. Jeongin’s hopeful words made you sad at the harsh reality of your life. Jeongin sighes in a mixture of frustration and sadness. 

“You deserve to be happy Y/N. You don’t want this.”

You started the car and you nodded. Jeongin had always been your rock, the person who knew you better than anyone. He knew your heart and where you stood. The love you have for Hyunjin, how you wanted to be normal. You hated living this life, but what choice did you have? You were born into this, this was your fate and Hyunjin was your enemy. One day you’ll have to kill him, you knew that one day you wouldn't be able to live your life with him. You couldn’t grow old together, you won’t start a family. It hurt you. This was not what you wanted. 

“I don’t get to be happy.”  

*******************************************************************************************

Hyunjin walked through the kitchen and laughed softly at the mess you two made the night before. All the silverware on the ground and food left out made Hyunjin remember how he felt to have you again. Even though he was gone for a short time, it felt like a lifetime for him. There was something exuberating about being in your arms and having you close. It was like your heart beats were in sync when you two were together. It never ceased to amaze him how you were like his soulmate. Reaching down to grab some of the utensils on the ground, a knock broke the silence in the house and Hyunjin shot back up. Looking at the time, 9:04 AM. He surely didn’t think his wife was back from running her errands for the day. 

Walking over towards the door, Hyunjin grabbed the handle and pulled it open.

“Yo Yo Yo!” The brown headed guy exclaimed and smiled as Hyunjin leaned back in surprise.

“Jisung! What are you doing here?” Hyunjin asked as the two quickly hugged and Jisung pulled back.

“Came to welcome you back and give you some updates, is the wife home?” Jisung asked suspiciously.

“No she went out to run some errands, come in” Hyunjin walked leading Jisung into the house, “Sorry for the mess by the way.”

Jisung looked at the mess in the kitchen and smirked, “Doesn’t seem like a lot of eating went on last night.”

Hyunjin playfully glared at Jisung and Jisung held his hands in the air in defeat, “Sorry, sorry. But he congrats on the contract negotiations this week. Hell, you get any richer and I might have to marry you.”

“Hey, she doesn’t know about it so hush.” Hyunjin warned and Jisung nodded, “What do you have?”

“Confirmation that the Lee Family is operating. Take a look.” Jisung pulled out his phone to show Hyunjin the photo of the crime scene by the tracks.

“I assume that that is not just a pile of random ash, anyone could have burned a body.” 

“Not the body, the train cart.” Jisung pointed and Hyunjin’s eyes grew wider as the realization, “Blood red. ‘L’. So it’s a message.” 

“It’s something. Blood red is a Lee Family color. Maybe it’s a message for us, it's almost been twenty years since the death of Won-Shik. A new heir would be old enough to take reign.” Jiung informed. 

Hyunjin’s mind went red. The inkling and the thought of his natural born enemy gave him an profound adrenaline. It was always just a rumor, a plan in the shadows, that if the Lee Family had an heir, Hyunjin would be the one to end him. It had always been an image in his head to claim that kind of power, to never let the Lee Family come back. Generations of leaders all look to Hyunjin to lead the family to its greatest potential. 

“If a new leader is here, then we better get to moving on it.” Hyunjin stated, “Does my father know about this?’

“Uh I don’t think so, but um…” Jisung trailed off and Hyunjin looked at him concerningly. 

“What Ji?” 

“You’re father did come by the office this week...asking a lot of questions...” Hyunjin froze in fear. 

“What kind of questions?” 

“If you’re considering any one to marry, like any of the women he recommended. You’re coming to the age where you have to.. you know.” Jisung stood there awkwardly.  Hyunjin sighed frustratingly. 

“Maybe it’s time to tell Y/N.” Jisung suggested and Hyunjin stood there biting his lip.

He couldn’t just tell you. How could he tell you. “I can’t Ji.”

“She’s not gonna leave you.” 

“How would you tell the woman of your dreams that you are the leader of the biggest mafia gangs in the world? How do you tell her that you aren’t a PR representative and that you go out of town to make illegal deals with other gangs? That we can afford to live in a house triple if not quadruple the size as this one. There’s blood on my hands Ji, I’ve killed more people than I care to count. How do I tell her?” Hyunjin proclaimed at Jisung and Jisung hung his head down.

“What are you going to do about a future heir?” He asked concerningly. 

Hyunjin ran his hands through his hair, “She can’t have kids.”

“What?” Jisung asked shocked, “I didn’t know that.”

“She’s infertile. We’ve tried but she... just can’t” Hyunjin’s demeanor grew sad and Jisung nodded. 

“If she loves you the way I know she does, I think she will be understanding of your situation.” Jisung stated and Hyunjin shook his head in agreement, just to end the conversation, “ I do have to get going though, and you, my guy, need to get cleaning.”

Jisung patted Hyunjin’s back as he headed towards the front door. Hyunjin stood there in the middle of the kitchen mess and rested his hands against the island in front of him, lowering his head down and groaning in frustration. He hated it. All of it. When you came into his life, he never wanted to protect another human in the way he wanted to protect you. You made him feel secured and safe, and all he has ever wanted was someone to love him for him. Not for the money and the luxury that came with who he was. Hyunjin knew by getting involved with you early on that perhaps one day he'd have to come clean. Then some days, he just wants to take your hand and run far away and live a life without all of the damage. Jisung’s optimism for you was so high, but Hyunjin knew it wouldn’t be that easy. He didn’t want to lose you. He can never lose you. 

*******************************************************************************************

You took another sip of your red wine as you focused into the television that was playing recurring advertisements. Your legs curled up on the couch with a blanket resting over you and you heard the sound of the water from the sink turn off. Looking over to see Hyunjin drying his hands after washing all the dishes, you smiled in content as you looked back over to the tv and felt your phone buzz in your lap. 

SM: The morse code message is almost done. 

You read Seungmin’s text and you clicked your phone off when you heard the floor creak from Hyunjin walking towards you. You raised your head and saw him make a beeline behind the couch, approaching you. He stood behind you and his long fingers grazed your neck up and down and you moaned into the touch. You leaned your head back and he bent down to place kisses on your lips. His thick lips taking all of you with him as he tried to deepen the kiss but you laughed and he laughed with you in response. 

“Thank you for dinner” You whispered against him and he kissed you again. 

“Hmm.” He groaned as he kissed you a final time, pulling back and making his way around to sit next to you on the couch. 

You pulled your legs away to sit in front of you as he laid his body across the couch and rested his head on your lap. Your hand naturally rested on top of his head, and your fingers began to stroke through his soft locks. He hummed into your legs as he let you play with his hair. You smiled softly at the whole scene. This is what you lived and craved for, small moments with him that filled your happiness. He meant everything to you and you never wanted to be a second without him. 

Your phone buzzed again and you picked it up to read the messages. 

SM: Done. 

FX: What did it say?

SM: “ When the clock strikes upon the new day, won’t you meet me under the stars?”

MH: Of course, he’s not gonna give us anymore than that. 

FX: It is a riddle though, not very far from before. 

MH: It’s aggravating. We don’t know what it means. 

JN: Maybe it has something to do with constellations? Or something about the moon? 

You: Could be Jeongin, let’s look into that. 

You sat your phone down and aimed your eyes back at your husband who was watching the news for the night. You looked back up at the screen and then saw the news report.

“And we have some breaking news tonight, a community in fear after learning about a potential homicide by the local train station. Police were called to the site after complaints of a stench was called in, some believing a body had been burned.” 

“That’s crazy.” Hyunjin mumbled out and you stared sternly at the program, intrigued by how your most recent kill made a debut on television. 

“What is?” You asked back.

“That someone could kill a human by burning their body.” He said softly and you mentally scoffed at the sudden change of heart he grew from watching the scene. You knew that Hyunjin put up an innocent act when you were together. How every time a murder was casted on the news, he act like it was the worst thing. However,  you also knew that he had committed murders far more gruesome than you and allowed the bodies to be shown more publicly.  

Hyunjin shifts his head to look at you and you respond by looking down at him. 

“I would never let anyone hurt you like that.” He pouted and you chuckled to yourself and caressed his soft face. 

“You’re so silly Jinnie,” you smiled at him and he shifted back over to face the tv again. 

“Well, the event of the year is right around the corner and we are very excited about it!” The newscaster exclaimed as she looked at her co-caster.

“That’s right, the 72nd Annual Charity Ball Event is in two weeks and today we have brought the Chairwoman of the Ball, Young Mi Hyuk with us to announce the theme of this year's event.”

“Isn’t that the ball you go to Hyunjin?” You asked and Hyunjin groaned. 

“Unfortunately.” He grumbled, “ Another year of fancy cocktails and blood sucking pieces of shit I guess.” 

“Well maybe the theme will be fun this year.” You insured as you paid attention to the women on the screen. 

“We are very excited and honored to host another year of the The Charity Ball and we have worked very hard on developing a theme to accentuate what a special night it will be,” The chairwoman spoke in octaves to try and seem more excited than she actually cared to be. You knew that those who went to the ball did not care about charity, they only cared about reeling money in for themselves. You watched as the women grew anxious about the reveal and it happened so suddenly that you almost thought you went deaf. The way the words left her mouth felt unreal, exquisitely unique. It was hard to believe. You simply couldn’t believe it. 

“This years’ theme... ‘Under the Stars’.”

******** 

A/N: WOW so sorry this took forever to come out. It’s a bit short and underwhelming but I promise its gonna get good. I’m thinking of doing a taglist if people are interested. Please let me know! Also don’t be afraid to share your thoughts, I really wanna know my readers:) Okay until next week! -KMY

[army-of-mai-lovers]

Jet and Yue’s Deaths: Were They Necessary?

Two of the most common ideas I see for aus in this fandom are the Jet lives au, and the Yue lives au. I’ve written both of these myself, and I’ve seen many others write them. And while yes, fanfiction can be a great way to explore ideas that didn’t necessarily have to be explored in canon (I’m mad at bryke for a lot of things, but not including a Toph and Bumi I friendship is not one of them, even though I wrote a fic about it), it seems to me that people are mad that Yue and Jet are dead, to varying degrees. There’s a lot to talk about regarding their deaths from a sociopolitical perspective (the fact that two of the darker-skinned characters in the show are the ones that died, and all the light-skinned characters lived, is ah... an interesting choice), but I don’t want to look at it that way, at least for right now. I want to look at it as a writer, and discuss whether these deaths were a) necessary for the plot and themes of ATLA in any way whatsoever and b) whether it was necessary for them to unfold in the way that they did, or if they would have been more impactful had they occurred in a different way. 

(meta under the cut, this got really, really, really long)

Death in Children’s Media

When I first started thinking about this meta, I had this idea to compare Jet and Yue’s deaths to deaths in an animated children’s show that I found satisfying. And in theory, that was a great idea. Problem is: there aren’t very many permanent deaths in children’s animation, and the ones that do exist aren’t especially well-written. This may be an odd thing to say in what is ostensibly a piece of atla crit, but Yue’s death is probably the best written death in a piece of children’s animation that I can think of. That’s not a compliment. Rather, it’s a condemnation of the way other pieces of children’s animation featuring permanent character death have handled their storylines. 

I’ve talked about this before, but my favorite show growing up was Young Justice, and my favorite character on that show was far and away Mr. Wally West. So when he died at the end of season 2, it broke me emotionally. Shortly thereafter, Cartoon Network canceled the show, and I started getting on fan forums to mourn. Everybody on these fan forums was convinced that had Cartoon Network not canceled the show, Wally would have been brought back. And that is a narrative that I internalized for years. Eventually, the show was brought back via DC’s new streaming service, and I tuned in, waiting for Wally to also be brought back, only to discover that that wasn’t in the cards. Wally was dead. Permanently. 

So now that I know that, I can talk about why killing him off was fucking stupid. Wally’s death occurs at the end of season 2, after the main s2 conflict, the Reach, has been defeated, save for these pods that they set up all over the world to destroy Earth. Our heroes split up in teams of two to destroy the pods, and they destroy all of them, except for a secret one in Antartica. It can only be neutralized by speedsters, so Wally, Bart, and Barry team up to destroy it. It’s established in canon that Wally is slower than Bart and Barry, and it’s been played for laughs earlier in the season, but for reasons unexplained, the pod is better able to target Wally because he’s slower than Bart and Barry, and it kills him. After the emotional arc of the season has wrapped up, a literal main character dies. There’s some indication at the end of that season that his death is going to cause Artemis to spiral and become a villain, but when season 3 picks up, she’s doing the right thing, with seemingly no qualms about her position in life as a hero. In the comics, something like this happens to Wally, but then he goes into the Speed Force and becomes faster and stronger even than Barry, in which case, yes, this would have advanced the plot, but that’s probably not in the cards either. 

In summary, Wally’s death doesn’t work as a story beat, not because it made me mad, but because it doesn’t advance the plot, nor does it develop character. Only including things that advance plot or develop character is one of the golden rules of writing. Like most golden rules of writing, however, it’s not absolute. There is a lot of fun to be had in jokey little one off adventures (in atla, Sokka’s haiku competition) or in fun worldbuilding threads that add depth to your setting but don’t really come up (in atla, the existence of Whaletail Island, which is described in really juicy ways, even though the characters never go there.) But in general, when it comes to things like character death, events should happen to develop the plot or advance character. Avatar, for all of its flaws, is really well structured, and a lot of its story beats advance plot and develop character at the same time. However, the show also bears the burden of being a show directed at children, and thus needing to be appropriate for children. And as we know, Nickelodeon and bryke butted heads over this: the death scene that we see for Jet is a compromise, one that implicitly confirms his death without explicitly showing it. So bryke tasked themselves with creating a show about imperialism and war that would do those themes justice while also being appropriate for American children and palatable to their parents. 

The Themes of Avatar vs. Its Audience

So, Avatar is a show about a lone survivor of genocide stopping an imperialist patriarchal society from decimating the rest of the world. It’s also a show about found family and staying true to yourself and doing your best to improve the world. These don’t necessarily conflict with each other, and it is possible for children to understand and enjoy shows about complex themes. And in a lot of cases, bryke doesn’t hold back in showing what the costs of war against an imperialist nation are: losing loved ones, losing yourself, prison, etc. But when it comes to death, the show is incredibly hesitant. None of the main characters that we’ve spent a lot of time getting to know die (not even Iroh, even though he was old and it would have made sense and his VA died before the show was over--but that’s a topic for another day.) This makes sense. I can totally imagine a seven year-old watching Avatar as it was coming out and feeling really sad or scared if a major character died. I was six years older than that when Wally died, and it’s still sad and terrifying to me to this day. However, in a show about war, it would be unrealistic to have no one die. Bryke’s stated reason for killing off Jet is to show the costs of war. I’ve seen a lot of posts about Jet’s death that reiterate some version of this same point--that the great tragedy of his character is that he spent his life fighting the Fire Nation, only to die at the hands of his own country. Similarly, I’ve seen people argue in favor of Yue’s death by saying that it was a great tragedy, but it showed the sacrifices that must be made in a war effort. 

Yue

When we first meet Yue, she is a somewhat reserved, kind individual held back by the rigid social structures of the NWT*. She and Sokka have an immediate attraction to one another, but Yue reveals that she is engaged to Hahn. The Fire Nation invasion happens, Zhao kills Tui, and Yue gives up her life to save her people and the world, and to restore balance. Since we didn’t have a lot of time to get to know Yue, this is framed less as Yue’s sacrifice and more as Sokka’s loss. Sokka is the one who cares for Yue, Sokka is the only one of the gaang who really interacts a lot with Yue on screen, and Sokka is the one we’ve spent a whole season getting to know. While I wouldn’t go so far as to call Yue a prop character (i.e. a character who could be replaced by an object with little change to the narrative), she is certainly underdeveloped. She exists to be unambiguously likable and good, so we can root for her and Sokka, and feel Sokka’s pain when she dies. In my opinion, this is probably also why a lot of fic that features Yue depicts her as a Mary Sue--because as she is depicted in the show, she kind of is. We don’t get to see her hidden depths because she is written to die. 

In light of what we’ve established earlier in this meta, this makes sense. Killing off a fully-realized character whom the audience has really gotten to know and care about on their own terms, rather than through the eyes of another character, could be really sad and scary for the kids watching, but not killing anyone off would be an unrealistic depiction of war and imperialism. On the face of it, killing off an underdeveloped, unambiguously likable and good character, whom one of our MCs has a deep but short connection with, is the perfect compromise. 

But let’s go back to the golden rule for a second. Does Yue’s death a) advance the plot, and/or b) develop character? The answer to the first is yes: Yue’s death prompts Aang to use the Avatar State to fight off the Fire navy, which has implications for his ability to control the Avatar State that form one of the major arcs of book 2. The answer to the second? A little more ambiguous. You would think that Yue’s death would have some lasting impact on Sokka that is explored as part of his character arc in book 2, that he may be more afraid to trust, more scared of losing the people he loves, but outside of a few episodes (really, just one I can think of, “The Swamp”) it doesn’t seem to affect him that much. He even asks about Suki in a way that is clearly romantically motivated in “Avatar Day.” I don’t know about you, but if someone I loved sacrificed herself to become the moon, I don’t think I would be seeking out another romantic entanglement a few weeks after her death. Of course, everybody processes grief differently, and one could argue that Sokka has already lost important people in his life, and thus would be accustomed to moving on from that loss and not letting himself dwell on it. But to that, I’d say that moving on by throwing himself into protecting others has already shown itself to be an unhealthy coping mechanism. Remember, Sokka’s misogyny at the beginning of b1 is in part motivated by the fact that his mother died at the hands of the Fire Nation and his father left shortly thereafter to fight the Fire Nation, and he responds to those things by throwing himself into the role of being the “man” of the village and protecting the people he loves who are still with him. Like with Yue, he doesn’t allow himself to dwell on his mother’s death. This could have been the beginning of a really interesting b2 arc for Sokka, in which he throws himself into being the Avatar’s companion to get away from the grief of losing Yue, but this time, through the events of the show, he’s forced to acknowledge that this is an unhealthy coping mechanism. And maybe this is what bryke was going for with “The Swamp”, but this confines his whole process of grief to one episode, where it could have been a season-long arc that really emphasized the effect Yue’s had on his life. 

In the case of Yue, I do lean toward saying that her death was necessary for the story that they wanted to tell (although, I will never turn down a good old-fashioned Yue lives au that really gets into her dynamism as a character, those are awesome.) However, the way they wrote Sokka following Yue’s death reduced her significance. The fact that Yue seemed to have so little impact on Sokka is precisely what makes her death feel unnecessary, even if it isn’t. 

Jet

Okay. Here we go. 

If you know my blog, you know I love Jet. You know I love Jet lives aus. Perhaps you know that I’m in the process of writing a multichapter Jet fic in which he lives after Lake Laogai. So it’s reasonable to assume that, in a discussion of whether or not Jet’s death was necessary, I’m gonna be mega-biased. And yeah, that’s probably true. But up until recently, I wasn’t really all that mad about Jet dying, at least conceptually. As I said earlier, bryke says that in the case of Jet’s death, they wanted to kill a character off that people knew and would care about, so that they could further show the tragedies of war and imperialism. Okay. That is not, in and of itself, a bad idea. 

My issue lies with the execution of said idea. First of all, the framing of Jet’s original episode is so bad. Jet is part of a long line of cartoon villains who resist imperialism and other forms of oppression through violence and are punished for it. This is actually a really common sort of villain for atla/lok, as we see this play out again with Hama, Amon, and the Red Lotus. To paraphrase hbomberguy’s description of this type of villain, basically liberal white creators are saying, “yeah, oppression is bad, but have you tried writing to your Congressman about it?” With Jet, since we have so little information about the village he’s trying to flood, there are a number of different angles that would explain his actions and give them more nuance. My preferred hc is that the citizens of Gaipan are a mix of Earth civilians, Fire citizens, and FN soldiers, and that the Earth citizens refused to feed or house Jet and the other Freedom Fighters because they were orphans and, as we see in the Kyoshi Novels, Earth families stick to their own. Thus, when Jet decides to flood Gaipan, he’s focused on ridding the valley of Fire Nation, but he doesn’t really care about what happens to the Earth citizens of Gaipan because they actively wronged him when he was a kid. That’s just one interpretation, and there have been others: Gaipan was fully Fire Nation, Gaipan was both Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation but Jet decided that the benefits of flooding the valley and getting rid of the Fire Nation outweighed the costs of losing the EK families, etc, etc. There are ways to rewrite that scenario so that Jet is not framed as an unambiguously bloodthirsty monster. In the context of Jet’s death, this initial framing reduces the possible impact that his death could have. Where Yue was unambiguously good, Jet is at the very least morally gray when we see him again in the ferry. And where we are connected to Yue through Sokka, the gaang’s active hatred of Jet hinders our ability to connect with him. This isn’t impossible to overcome--the gaang hates Zuko, and yet to an extent the audience roots for him--but Jet’s lack of screentime and nuanced framing (both of which Zuko gets in all three seasons) makes overcoming his initially flawed framing really difficult. 

So how much can it really be said, that by the time we get to Jet’s death, he’s a character that we know and care about? So much about him is still unknown (what happened to the Freedom Fighters? what prompted Jet’s offscreen redemption? who knows, fam, who knows.) Moreover, most of what we see of him in Ba Sing Se is him actively opposing Zuko and Iroh. These are both characters that at the very least the show wants us to care about. At this point, we know almost everything there is to know about them, we’ve been following them and to an extent rooting for them for two seasons, and who have had nuanced and often sympathetic framing a number of times. So much of the argument I’ve seen regarding Jet centers around the fact that he was right to expose Zuko and Iroh as Firebenders, but the reason we have to have that argument in the first place is because it’s not framed in Jet’s favor. In terms of who the audience cares about more, who the audience has more of an emotional attachment towards, Zuko and Iroh win every time. Whether Jet’s actually in the right or not is irrelevant, because emotionally speaking, we’re primed to root for Zuko and Iroh. In terms of who the framing is biased towards, Jet may as well be Zhao. So when he’s taken by the Dai Li and brainwashed, the audience isn’t necessarily going to see this as a bad thing, because it means Zuko and Iroh are safe.

The only real bit of sympathetic framing Jet gets are those initial moments on the ferry, and the moments after he and the gaang meet again. So about five, ten minutes of the show, total. And then, he sacrifices himself for the gaang. And just like Yue, his death has little to no impact on the characters in the episodes following. Katara is shown crying for four frames immediately following his death, and they bring him up once in “The Southern Raiders” to call him a monster, and once in “The Ember Island Players”, a joke episode in which his death is a joke. 

So, let’s ask again. Does this a) advance the plot, and/or b) develop character? The answer to both is no. It shows that the Dai Li is super evil and cruel, which we already knew and which basically becomes irrelevant in book 3, and that is really the only plot-significant thing I can think of. As far as character, well, it could have been a really interesting moment in Katara’s development in forgiving someone who hurt her in the past, which could have foreshadowed her forgiving Zuko in b3, but considering she calls Jet a monster in TSR, that doesn’t track. There could have been something with Sokka realizing that his snap judgment of Jet in b1 was wrong, but considering that he brings up Jet to criticize Katara in TSR, that also does not track. And honestly, neither of these possible character arcs require Jet to die. What requires Jet to die is the ~themes~. 

Let’s look at this theme again, shall we? The cost of war. We already covered it with Yue, but it’s clearly something that bryke wants to return to and shed new light on. The obvious angle they’re going for is that sometimes, you don’t know who your real enemy is. Jet thought that his enemy was the Fire Nation, but in the end, he was taken down by his own countryman. Wow. So deep. Except, while it’s clear that Jet was always fighting against the Fire Nation, I never got the sense that Jet was fighting for the Earth Kingdom. After all, isn’t the whole bad thing about him in the beginning is that he wants to kill civilians, some of whom we assume to be Earth Kingdom? Why would it matter then that he got killed by an EK leader, when he didn’t seem to ever be too hot on those dudes? But okay, maybe the angle is not that he was killed by someone from the Earth Kingdom, but that he wasn’t killed by someone from the Fire Nation. Okay, but we’ve already seen him be diametrically opposed to the only living Air Nomad and people from the Water Tribes. Jet fighting with and losing to people who aren’t Fire Nation is not a new and exciting development for him. Jet has been enemies with non-FN characters for most of the show’s run at this point. There is no thematic level on which the execution of this holds any water. 

The reason I got to thinking about this, really analyzing what Jet’s death means (and doesn’t mean) for the show, was this conversation I was having with @the-hot-zone in discord dms. We were talking about book 2 and ways it could have been better, and Zone said that they thought that Jet would have been a stronger character to parallel with Zuko’s redemption than Iroh and that seeing more of the narrative from Jet’s perspective could have strengthened the show’s themes. And when it came to the question of Jet’s death, they said, “And if we are going with Jet dying, then I want it to hurt. I want it to hurt just as much as if a main character like Sokka had died. I want the viewer to see Jet's struggles, his triumphs, the facets of Jet that make him compelling and important to the show.” And all of that just hit me. Because we don’t get that, do we? Jet’s death barely leaves a mark. Jet himself barely leaves a mark. His death isn’t plot-significant, doesn’t inspire character growth in any of our MCs, and doesn’t even accomplish the thematic relevance that it claims to. So what was the point? 

Conclusion

Much as I dislike it, Yue’s death actually added something to atla. It could have added much, much more, in the hands of writers who gave more of a shit about their Brown female characters and were less intent on seeing them suffer and knocking them down a peg, but, in my opinion, it did work for what it was trying to do. Jet? Jet? Nah, fam. Jet never got the chance to really develop into a likable character because he was always put at odds with characters we already liked, and the framing skewed their way, not his. The dude never really had a chance.        

*multiple people have spoken about how the NWT as depicted in atla is not reminiscent of real life Inuit and Yupik people and culture. I am not the person to go into detail about this, but I encourage you to check out Native-run blogs for more info!

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

Request (from this post):

@scarlet-gryphon suggested: Modern pre-3zun AU where for whatever reason, Meng Yao is challenged to do a tough rock climbing wall. Cue the italicized ‘ohs’ from Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue at his flexibility. (also posted to Ao3)

This kind of thing is very much outside of my usual wheelhouse of ideas so thank you so much for the challenge, it was super refreshing! Hope you like it ^_^

--

Fucking work retreats.

“ ‘It’ll be fun’ he says,” Meng Yao grumbles to himself as he plasters an extremely fake (perhaps slightly manic) smile on his face. “ ‘Lighten up, A-Yao’ he says,” he mocks again, his grin twisting into a mocking sneer for just a split second before he smooths it away again.

The benefit of being wildly unpopular is that no one milling around stops him on his hunt to try to chat, and finally after a few minutes of prowling he finds his prey.

“Nie Huaisang,” he says icily and he has the immense pleasure of seeing the Jiang Corporation heir and his brother look sharply at him over Nie Huaisang’s shoulders in (slightly eerie) synchronicity, both of them looking sufficiently aware of whatever it is they see on his face that promises danger for Nie Huaisang. Of course it’s in their own ways, which means Jiang Wanyin glares first at him and then at Nie Huaisang, and Wei Wuxian’s usual happy grin goes a bit manic as well, eyes glittering as he scents fresh mischief.

“A-Yao, there you are!” Nie Huaisang cries far too cheerfully as he turns, his ever-present fan already fluttering nervously in front of his chest. Why he insists on carrying that thing everywhere he goes Meng Yao doesn’t understand whatsoever, but he’s currently wishing he had the guts to tug it from his hands and snap it right in half.

“Could I speak to you for a moment?”

The fluttering of his fan gets a little faster. “Ahhhh hah, but we’re about to get started!! You know how da-ge is, hit the ground running and all that. Can’t it wait?”

“No,” he says with such a poisonously sweet smile and a faux-innocent little tilt of his head that even Wei Wuxian takes a step back, the brothers leaving their best friend high and dry to face his wrath alone. Sensible of them.

He holds his arm out for Nie Huaisang to take and, with no safe alternative options, the other man reluctantly takes it and lets himself be led away from listening ears.

“Now, A-Yao -”

“When were you planning to inform me that my father’s company would also be present at this retreat?”

“Oh good, you already know! So now the answer doesn’t matter, does it?”

“I’m going to murder you in your sleep, A-Sang. I’m in charge of our company’s hotel assignments. I know exactly where to find you.”

“Aiyah you do not, who in the world stays in their own hotel room during company retreats? Well I guess some people have to, But I definitely don’t. I’ve already found myself better accommodation,” he says breezily, flicking his fan shut to tap him on the forearm a couple of times. “And you’ll lighten up a little if you do too! I heard the Lans are coming~,” he adds, his glance at him out of the corner of his eye far too sly. Meng Yao can’t quite resist glaring at him right back. Nie Huaisang just walked headfirst into dangerous territory, but part of him (a very small part of him) can admire that his sort-of-friend, sort-of-employer is daring enough to tease him when he’s clearly irritated.

“You’re horrendous,” he replies sweetly and Nie Huaisang laughs as he turns them around to head back towards where everyone else is gathered.

“Oh hush, stop glaring at me and go find Xichen-ge, stare at him until you feel better. I’ll bet he’s dressed casuallyyyy~~,” he teases as he snaps his fan open again to flutter it and add to the flirtatious lilt in his tone.

“Lan Zhan!!!!” Wei Wuxian suddenly cries loudly enough to carry over the general chatter and in the next instant he goes flying across the spacious hotel lobby, a blur of black and red as Jiang Wanyin shouts after him for him to stop. Nie Huaisang giggles at his side behind his fan as heads turn to watch Wei Wuxian’s progress to where the Lans have stopped to check in.

“Oh perfect timing, and you won’t even have to waste any time searching! Wei-xiong is so useful, don’t you think?”

Meng Yao says nothing, just glares at Nie Huaisang until the man winks over his fan and carefully extricates himself from where their arms are linked to return to Jiang Wanyin’s side to pat his shoulder as the man fumes. Meng Yao sighs and after a moment he follows in the bemused wake Wei Wuxian had left behind himself on his way to his boyfriend. Though the retreat isn’t being held on any participating company’s actual properties, the Nie Corporation is still technically hosting it so it’s not entirely out of character for him to go and greet the new arrivals.

And if Lan Xichen’s smile when their eyes meet makes his frustration with Nie Huaisang and the presence of his own family melt away like snow in spring, then that’s his own business.

----

A few days into the retreat, Nie Mingjue’s patience is at its limit. He hates these things, he can’t remember just why the hell he let Nie Huaisang talk him into hosting this bullshit, but he can’t change it now. At least the Lans agreed to come - without Lan Xichen here to force him to enjoy himself he really would have become too miserable to bother staying for the whole retreat, he would’ve already packed up and dragged Meng Yao home with him to get back to work. Not that it would take much dragging, most likely. Meng Yao is as much of a workaholic as himself, maybe even more of one (which he hadn’t thought was possible prior to meeting him), and the Jins have been extra insufferable to him on top of that. It wouldn’t surprise him at all if Meng Yao was looking for an easy out of the whole affair.

“Oh dear,” Lan Xichen says softly at his side and Nie Mingjue pulls himself out of his ruminations to glance at him and then look at where he’s focusing on only to sigh as he spots Meng Yao being harassed by his horrible cousin - again.

“How long has that spoiled brat been talking to him this time?” Nie Mingjue growls as he pushes his sleeves up to his elbows and flexes his fingers a few times. God he’d like to use that asshole’s face as a punching bag. Mostly because he feels like Meng Yao would appreciate it and Nie Mingjue is maybe slightly too interested in doing things that make Meng Yao get that pleased little smirk on his face. But in his defense it’s also because he’s seen that smirking face far too many times to not want to rearrange it a little. If it happens to be because he’s bothering Meng Yao then that’s the perfect excuse, just two birds with one stone.

“About a minute, but it seems that’s long enough to behave unpleasantly,” Lan Xichen sighs, crossing his arms over his chest in a rare show of open disapproval, his lips turned down in an uncharacteristic frown. “What could he and his friends possibly have to bother him about now?”

“Don’t know, don’t care. I’m gonna beat the shit out of him, I’m tired of this.”

“Mingjue!” Lan Xichen cautions with a sudden grip on his arm. “Please, don’t embarrass A-Yao and make a scene, it won’t help him.”

“Well what do you want me to do?! We can’t just leave him over there.”

“Ah...I believe we are not his only knights in shining armor,” Lan Xichen says, suddenly sounding amused and Nie Mingjue follows his gaze again to see Wei Wuxian, of all people, shoving his way through the crowd looking positively gleeful at the sign of trouble brewing, Lan Wangji trailing along behind him as serenely as ever. Such a weird pair, in his opinion. And of course, because it’s Wei Wuxian, his voice carries perfectly over the general hubbub of people chatting and the clink of carabiners from the people currently scaling the rock wall they’re all supposed to be taking turns climbing.

“Meng Yao!” Wei Wuxian cries and Nie Mingjue can see the man in question’s shoulders tighten all the way from here as Wei Wuxian throws his arm around them to lounge against him. “Are you holding back to spare the rest of us from having to watch you kick our asses without breaking a sweat? Oh. Hey asswipe.”

“Wei Wuxian!”

Nie Mingjue snickers just a little at the scandalized tone in Jin Zixun’s voice, and even Lan Xichen chuckles softly next to him.

“Yeah? Hi uh...hm. Can’t say I remember your name, Jin something-or-other, right? No, don’t tell me, it doesn’t matter and I want to keep thinking your name is ‘Asswipe’.”

“What the fuck is your problem?!”

“Problem? I don’t have one. What’s yours?”

Lan Wangji says something then, far too low to carry the way Wei Wuxian and Jin Zixun’s voices do, but whatever it is makes Wei Wuxian laugh and turn to Meng Yao. He lets go of him to turn and face Meng Yao fully, putting his back to Jin Zixun, but whatever he says next is lost in the noise of someone reaching the top of the wall and hitting the buzzer. 

“Are you sure we should trust whatever Wei Wuxian just did to solve this?” Nie Mingjue grumbles, already knowing what his best friend’s answer will be.

“He’s a good man,” Lan Xichen replies, because of course he does. “I trust him wholeheartedly, and it’s a good solution don’t you think? Everyone expects him to make a scene anyway, A-Yao need not be embarrassed about being rescued if it’s him.”

“Are we sure he even fixed whatever’s going on?” Nie Mingjue watches Meng Yao square his shoulders and step up to take a spot next to one of the employees at the rock wall and he can’t help but frown, still concerned. “A-Yao didn’t want to participate.”

But then he’s quickly strapped into a harness around his hips and thighs and maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just….watch...for a second...

Lan Xichen’s slightly choked noise at his side is all the confirmation he needs that they’re in agreement. 

Nie Mingjue tears his eyes away from Meng Yao just long enough to see that he’s lined up with the rest of the Jin employees that are in attendance and he blinks as he realizes what’s going on.

“This is Wei Wuxian’s solution?” he snaps. “To put A-Yao up against his stupid cousin and his cronies? He’s supposed to get A-Yao away from them!”

“Patience, Mingjue, trust Wei Wuxian’s methods, he knows what he’s doing,” Lan Xichen soothes, returning his hand to his arm though he still hasn’t looked away from Meng Yao as the man listens to the instructions and allows himself to be fitted with a rope attached to the front of the harness.

“You just like seeing A-Yao tied up.”

“Mm. Multiple things can be true at once.” 

Nie Mingjue snorts at that but shakes his head in defeat and goes back to watching, staying still as Lan Xichen subtly steps closer to him and tucks his hand into the crook of his elbow as the start timer counts down from five.

Whatever Nie Mingjue was expecting before the competition started, it certainly wasn’t what ends up happening as soon as the buzzer sounds.

His eyes go wide as he watches Meng Yao instantly take the lead by putting his foot above his head and launching himself a full body-length up the wall while everyone else is still trying to find their first handhold.

“Oh my god,” Lan Xichen breathes at his side and Nie Mingjue is in full agreement. Meng Yao practically flies up the wall, taking the lead by miles simply by virtue of skipping over at least five footholds at a time to get to the highest one he can reach - which is never lower than rib- or shoulder-height.

Nie Mingjue has never seen anything like it and he can’t take his eyes off him. He doesn’t even hesitate, he just makes these impossible jumps and pulls until he smacks the buzzer at the top and turns to sit on the top of the wall, feet dangling and the dimples in his cheeks visible even from this distance as he grins down at the others still halfway down the rest of the wall.

“Oh shit,” it’s Nie Mingjue’s turn to exclaim as Meng Yao wiggles his fingers in a little wave while Jin Zixun slips and falls a few feet before tension gets applied to his rope, leaving him dangling in front of the hardest course on the wall like a sack of turnips.

“That was..oh my.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So flexible,” Nie Huaisang pipes up suddenly from his other side and Nie Mingjue doesn’t yelp but he comes close.

“Huaisang!!”

“Hi da-ge, er-ge. Enjoying the view? It’s very scenic.”

“Don’t be crude, A-Sang,” Lan Xichen chastises without any heat and Nie Huaisang snorts.

“I’m not the one checking out Meng Yao’s ass like a couple of creeps. He’ll want a drink this evening, by the way - he hates dealing with his family.” Nie Huaisang leans forward to look up pointedly first at him and then at Lan Xichen next to him. “Maybe even two drinks.”

“I can feel you winking at me, A-Sang,” Lan Xichen says with a smirk without taking his eyes off Meng Yao and Nie Huaisang laughs behind his fan. 

“Good, then we’re on the same page! Does this mean I should tell Wei-xiong not to talk him into going up there again or do you need more convincing?”

Nie Mingjue coughs at that and does his best to glare. “No one said he has to stop. If he wants to go again to prove his point to that smarmy jackass cousin of his then who are we to stop him?”

“Subtle, da-ge,” Nie Huaisang drawls. He stretches his arms above his head with a little sigh before he steps away to look at them over his shoulder with a sly wink. “As many times as he’s willing to go, then? Noted, I’ll let Wei-xiong know right away,” he teases and then he’s off with a laugh.

“Well. That was..”

“We’re definitely buying him drinks tonight, right?” Nie Mingjue checks and Lan Xichen’s responding hum is perfectly easy to interpret as they watch Meng Yao rappel down the wall and set up to go again. “Good.”

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Comte AU Event

Aight because I have Comte brainworms (is this a surprise to anybody I sure hope not), there’s something I’ve just been thinking about a lot ever since completing one of the story events a month ago:

The cover art being very sexy aside, I naturally did Comte’s story event and I have yet to move on. Namely because of one specific line. (Disclaimer: Keep in mind I don’t mean to say I’m an expert, I just translate for fun--I don’t have the same prowess as an official linguist. That being said starts the circus music let the show go on)

"...it amazed me. You never stopped trying, never stopped helping others or gave up on them--even while every day was a living hell for you."

This is the line I want to dive into, but before I can really talk about it, we need proper context. 

Event spoilers below:

This event is a little different since it’s an AU, so the mansion and its residents don’t exist. (Comte lives in the mansion on his own, but it’s not the same one we know.) Instead Comte, Leo, and Arthur are stand alone suitors who have turned MC into a vampire. Because MC has no clear memory of how and/or why it happened, MC is seeking vengeance against her paired hottie--and fully intends to end their life one way or another.

Aside from how sexy revenge is and how much I love the enemies to lovers trope, Comte’s entire storyline gave me more life than I can humanly convey. Here goes nothing!

So it begins with MC knocking on his door and Comte answers it and literally just stares at her silently like some kind of Furby. MC starts out by saying she’s been trying to narrow down the bastard that ruined her life and her search has finally brought her to his doorstep. She basically demands the truth from him and he just keeps. Staring owlishly (lmao). He eventually relents and tells her that a conversation is much better held inside, and invites her into his home to talk. 

She's sus as hell but enters the house, and he asks if she's had blood. This stops her in her tracks, shook, and her monologue drifts to explain a few things. When she woke up years ago, a new vampire, she had instructions to approach the Rouge/Blanc dispensary for what she needed. The staff there told her that everything was paid for, and she continued to receive support from an unnamed benefactor. She asked them for the identity of this person, but they were beholden to customer confidentiality. As such, she's been searching for information to narrow down her target for years until she finally found him tonight.

Despite the years it doesn't mean she's any more comfortable with her new existence. She notes that she still tends to stick to drinking Blanc--only drinking Rouge (in other words, blood) when she has no other choice. When Comte puts the Rouge on the table, she becomes notably unsettled. She's thirsty, but she won't concede to his request that she drink it; she refuses.

(I feel like he can probably tell because he's her sire/because of his experience with vampires). Comte--naturally--refuses to let her go hungry, so he knocks it back and kisses her to get her to drink it. He lets go as soon as she's swallowed it, and doesn't resist when she shoves him off. She rails at him about how awful he is for doing that, he agrees. She asks if he was the one that killed her parents, he confirms with blasé indifference. She's fuming quietly, but she notes that he doesn't really look happy or triumphant about it. What he's saying isn't reaching his eyes; his gaze is distant and sad. And it's confusing her. Isn't he supposed to be the enemy?

She's lost in her thoughts and unresponsive until there's a loud cry from outside the house, the shriek of a nearby owl. She snaps out of her daze to see that she still has his hand in a vice grip from when she shoved him off, and his skin is blanched--she cut off his circulation from the pressure. She releases him, startled, but he says nothing. 

She's trying to sort out what's going on, and doesn't have enough information to really piece anything together. She wants to hate him but things aren't making sense. Why did her parents have to die in the first place? Why does he bother keeping her alive at his own expense? Even just now, what he did felt more like an attempt to get her to eat than anything else. Why isn’t he more malicious? This MC is desperate for answers, and she says as much: "What are you hiding…?" 

Comte doesn't answer her, just averts his gaze and remains silent. MC decides she won't do anything until she learns the full extent of what happened the night she was turned. Furthermore, she's well aware of Comte’s status being a problem. If she goes too far without proper motive, the aristocracy could come back to bite her in the ass. (The implication here is that she's more concerned about being wrong and living with that regret, rather than any necessity to protect herself. The state of his gaze--the melancholy there--keeps eating at her. Until she knows why, she won't move forward.) 

Comte is shocked that she demands to live alongside him in the mansion, but he doesn't take any issue with it. He says the mansion is pointlessly huge for one person anyway--she's welcome to stay. Either way she wins with this arrangement: either she gets the truth or she finds an effective way to destroy him by the end. And so their little cohabitation begins!

After a timeskip, MC recounts how she's been spending her days in the mansion. She's been tidying around the house, both in the hopes of finding evidence and/or in the hopes of repaying all the years of living on his assistance. He doesn't stop her, letting her do as she pleases and keeping his distance.

One day, she's about to step out into town to grab some groceries. Comte approaches at the front door, cautioning her to be safe--there have been many reports of scuffles/dangerous encounters. MC brushes him off, unsurprised he knows what's going on in town. He's very well connected to the aristocracy, and she notes that he's often at dinner gatherings and parties when he's not home. She insists she can't let her guard down, that he can't be trusted; no matter how kind he is to her face.

Another day, he asks her to attend a ball later in the week. He tells her she's under no obligation to stay with him while they're there, just that he wants her to take some time and relax--to have fun. She tries to insist that going to something like that would be more stressful than fun but he won’t hear of any protest, walking away before she can fully reject the outing. (Comte, an idiot, speed-walking out of the room: and that is what we call finessed). She sighs, thinking she'll be nothing but a burden to him given her lack of knowledge about events like that. She doesn't really know the proper etiquette or how to dance, it’s completely out of her depth.

Surprising no one at all Comte buys MC a dress and accessories to match regardless, and when she comes down the staircase leading to the front door he's awestruck. He tells her she's beautiful and she's miffed by the raw sincerity, trying to remind herself that he is eeeeevil. He knows how to talk to women given his status, he's just smooth talking... (She's trying to convince herself, essentially.)

And so they go, and she's a bit of a wallflower. He leaves her alone--doesn't want to bother her--while she sticks close to one wall. Several men ask her to dance, but she politely declines. Her monologue explains that, given what she is and the fact that she’s only living for revenge, she sees no merit in trying to court human men. She sees it as irresponsible and inevitably disastrous, and…

[Given the nature of what I am I just can't. I can't fall in love with a human man. Besides, the only person I really want to dance with is...as much as I hate it, my line of sight keeps drifting to Comte. Suddenly he looks up and meets my gaze, but I hurriedly look away--my heart pounding in my chest. Why. In a room full to the brim with people, why do my eyes keep looking for him. Whatever, time to go cool off for a bit.]

She leaves the ballroom--mortified at herself--to get some fresh air. Not five minutes into trying to figure out whatever the hell is going on with her shitshow of a life, a man appears asking what she’s doing alone. And da da da d a Zelda treasure chest sound effect he whips out a knife covered in blood and tries to stab MC. Naturally, because I’m an idiot, my first thought was:

TW: knife attack

TW: homicides by serial killer

But it turns out our local serial killer remains nameless in this event, so I can point no fingers. MC is panicking about needing to run and frozen in place from the shock, but Comte appears to pull her out of range--knife sinking into his back. He doesn’t react much to the violence as the attacker runs away, yanking out the knife and focused on checking her for any wounds. She’s still reeling from how quickly he reacted, and he reassures her (probably at the sight of her bewildered/worried look) that law enforcement is on alert in the area. They’ll find him, they’ll arrest him. 

She tries to ask him why. Why would he protect her like that? His first instinct was to take the hit and ensure her safety first, and it doesn’t make sense. Comte reassures her again, joking that purebloods are sturdy. See? The wound’s already healed c:

[Even though I've been spending all this time trying to get my revenge on him, my heart stopped when he was attacked. As if to reassure me, frozen and speechless, Comte smiles gently. This person.......I can't do it. I can't kill him without meaning, without being sure of the truth.]

"...Comte, I can tell you're a good person. What happened that night, so many years ago?" Because even now, he's still protecting me. "Please...tell me the truth. I want to know." 

[I know this isn't the time or place, but if I don't know I can't worry about him with a clear head.]

TW: human trafficking and drugging unconscious

Comte concedes and goes into what happened that night so many years ago. Apparently he was acquainted with her parents long before the incident, and they fell into debt as a result of gambling. He approached their home in the hopes of paying them a visit, checking up on them, only to encounter tragedy. They intended to sell their daughter off and the man they ended up making a deal with more or less slaughtered them all in cold blood. The reason MC doesn’t remember any of this was because her parents drugged her the night it happened. No consciousness, no resistance.

"In that room suffused in the odor of blood and despair, I found you, MC." Her pained, struggling cry is what led him into that room--and seeing how desperately she was fighting to survive, he turned her against all his better judgement. Feeling certain she would hate him forever for the choice he made compounded by her terrible circumstance, he bailed, leaving her instructions and resources to survive on her own. 

"Sold off by your own parents, attacked by a serial killer, seconds from death. I thought....I thought telling you about it would only bring you pain, that it would leave you numb from the shock and despair. That's why I kept it from you.”

"...After turning you, I was consumed by regret. I felt certain you would hate me for the choice I made. So I left." [When I don't know what to say, he keeps talking.] "But I was worried about you even so. I tailed you quietly, making sure you were getting along okay. I was fully aware you wanted to kill me for what I'd done. Even so, I wanted to check on you." 

And that is where the line comes in.

"...it amazed me. You never stopped trying, never stopped helping others or gave up on them--even while every day was a living hell for you."

He admits that he fell in love with her after a point. And she’s baffled, considering she’s been looking for every reason to tear him apart--assuming he was the perpetrator when he actually saved her life. She protests immediately, asking how he could possibly feel that way after the level of vitriol and judgement she’s levied against him when he was only trying to help.

"That's not true at all. At heart, you're a very kind young lady. You haven't raised a hand against me all this time. And even when you considered me to be a repulsive presence, you were worried about me." 

At this MC is conflicted--because his words are a further extension of his equanimity. He’s well aware that he brought about all the confusion by not being honest, but it’s also clear there was no ill intent involved in that decision. He was concerned; hitting her with that level of misfortune and senseless terror all at once could have been incredibly destructive to her health. (This isn’t to say he made the ‘right’ decision; I don’t think there is any right decision in the face of such a complex situation. Given he takes full responsibility for what happened and does his best to help her, I think that’s a fair response.)

This is essentially where the common rt ends. But because I’m feral for Comte and enjoy talking about him, I’ll finish up the summary and then go on to do my analysis.

After that riveting assault, MC is feeling very lost about how to move forward. Her fury at Comte’s injustice has all but evaporated, which means a complete re-evaluation of how she’s going to move forward from now on. Does she continue with her revenge anyway, still angry for the dishonesty? Or does she try something new?

If you do the premium end that means choosing to forgive Comte and climb him (as he deserves). Therefore I, being an intellectual, chose to ride him into the sunset.

The premium end begins with Comte taking her to another ball because the first one kind of went to shit and he feels bad about it (retraumatization was not in the plan...). And so MC basically does the same thing as the first time, just vibin and taking in the scenery, thinking things over. Comte’s concerned about her not having fun, so he approaches her to ask if she’s feeling okay. He makes it clear that he really doesn’t mind if she dances with someone else--even if he admitted his feelings for her. She doesn’t owe him anything, and he has no intention of imposing on her future.

"Whatever it is you choose to do, I don't mind. I just want you to be happy"

[This person is so, so gentle...His words penetrate deep and settle with warmth over my heart, my chest light.] "Comte I.......I don't want to dance with anyone but you." [I still don't know what to do about the future, but for now I think following what my heart is telling me is the best move] 

"!!!....well then, if you insist..."

Comte’s just:

He’s beyond shocked, but accepts her invitation when she confirms it’s what she wants to do. Leading her in all his infinite grace, MC marvels at his ability to dance so elegantly--even with a partner who’s deadweight, like her. She also finds it astounding how easily he makes her forget what they are, how easily she just enjoys the moment; no turmoil, no lingering in the worst of her miseries. She’s just...having fun? For the first time in so very long.

[Comte murmurs in the short distance, clear remorse on his face--as though he can't help it.] 

"MC, it's kind of you, honestly. That you'd give me the time of day, that you'd agree to dance with me. But I...I'm the one that turned you. There's no denying or escaping that fact. If it's you, I'm ready to accept any consequence. If you want me gone, you're free to attack me. If you just want to be as far away from me as possible--to live your life in peace and solitude--I will do everything in my power to help you." 

[He said it as if he was trying to convince himself. Like he was trying to remember why he couldn't assume more of this single dance together, why he couldn't let hope emerge from this single shared moment.] 

[.....I'm not that kind, Comte. I asked because it's you.....Feeling his warmth beneath my hands, I come to a decision.]

There’s a timeskip, and then MC--being the badass that she is--knocks on Comte’s door the night of the crescent moon. He lets her inside more than ready to accept her judgement, whatever it may be. MC asks about his feelings, seeks to confirm that he still loves her before she confesses herself. 

"Comte. Comte you said--that you loved me right?" 

"Yes that's correct...no matter how much you might hate me, these feelings won't change. I love you." 

[Hearing those words again sets my chest on fire. And I decide to tell him my honest feelings.] 

"I love you too. But......I've held a misguided grudge against you for so long, is it okay for me to love you now?" 

[Can that misunderstanding really be forgiven? Am I allowed to love you? Comte's eyes widen, and the breathtaking gold of his eyes shimmer/waver.] 

"...shouldn't that be my line? I mean even despite the circumstances, I still made the choice to turn you :o Can you really forgive me?" 

"...If I'm honest, I still have a hard time drinking blood and I'm a little scared of an immortal life. But......I think if I could spend that eternity at your side, I could find the means to smile again. And....the thing is....I also want to see you smile, to make sure you remember how to smile." 

".................." [Le Comte stared at me, before extending his hand. And he hugged me so, so tightly.] "MC......." 

[In that single word all the raw emotion of ten years can be heard. It was an indescribable sound--one that spoke of an unimaginable, impossible love. This person loves me so very dearly.]

The event ends with them biting each other as proof of their bond, essentially a vow to stay together moving forward. It felt very much like the shared act of biting was a promise of love, how vampires might get married or commit to each other romantically. The summary essentially ends here.

Here’s where the semi-meta comes in, because I literally just can’t stop thinking about the implications of this event. 

"...it amazed me. You never stopped trying, never stopped helping others or gave up on them--even while every day was a living hell for you."

I just...I just don’t even know where to begin with how hard this line hits. Comte’s MS conveys this sentiment powerfully too, but there’s just something about them choosing to emphasize it yet again. The reason Comte falls in love every time has to do with his MC’s strength, her ability to surmount remarkable obstacles with so much poise. She’s deeply in tune with her reality, but no less relentlessly positive. She won’t burden others with her problems, and she’ll do everything in her power to move forward in constructive ways.

Even when every day was a living hell. Both Comte and Leonardo perceive eternity to be something of a curse; an endless sentence. Whether it means suffering boredom, reliving tragedy, or going nigh numb from the loneliness--being an immortal creature isn’t always sunshine and rainbows. 

And that’s exactly why I think he fell in love with this MC? I don’t think his feelings would have run half as deep if it was just anyone. He doesn’t strike me as the type to get attached easily. Because if he’s going to have a life partner, he needs someone who's going to be able to roll with whatever life throws their way for conceivable lifetimes. Somebody that loses heart quickly or is easily prone to delusion would suffer eternally, and the last thing he wants is to subject a person to that. MC gives him hope certainly, but she’s also emblematic of a kind of fortitude he both needs on a personal level and she would need to be beside him. It’s interesting because it’s a responsible choice on his part, but also just very befitting of his nature. He’s somebody that staunchly believes in the ability of good to prevail, but he’s also realistic about it. He knows doing the right thing isn’t necessarily easy; he does it because he could never live with himself if he did otherwise. 

(Think about Comte’s approach with Jeanne. It meant years of being on the receiving end of hatred he didn’t deserve, but he didn’t mind if it meant Jeanne could find a way to heal. It’s not the most practical or immediate solution, but it is the most restorative option. Comte doesn’t care that he spends years living alongside Jeanne’s outspoken displeasure and even violent outbursts. Why? Because it’s all a means to a greater, better end. If he has to suffer a little discomfort, he’s willing to make that sacrifice. That’s the thing with Comte; intentionality is everything. Comte’s intention is to help. Whether that’s a short or long process, a smooth or rough process, he’s going to do what he can within his means.)

That dynamic is reflected in his respect for this MC who is filled with fury on behalf of all the life that she lost unfairly, her relentless pursuit for the truth of what happened to her. Notice, she’s more interested in truth than retaliation. She refuses to lay an intentionally violent hand on Comte until she knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was worthy of being on the receiving end of that retribution. Who does that sound like? If you guessed Comte himself, then you see where I’m going with this. What MC and Comte have in common is that they have a sharp emotional fortitude that they keep under tight, rational control. They will react with sizable passion or hurt or warmth--but their externalized reaction will vary depending on the situation. If it’s a minor annoyance, they have the patience to diffuse and try to alleviate the problem. If it’s on a larger scale or it’s an egregious violation of their personhood, then they up the ante accordingly.

Think about it. MC appears on Comte’s doorstep full of righteous rage and even when he confirms what he’s “done,” she hesitates. Her emotional intelligence is telling her something isn’t aligning properly; something isn’t quite right. She forgoes immediate revenge for proper answers instead. MC and Comte have this kind of balance, where they are more than happy to hear people out--but there is a limit to that propensity. Push them too far? They’ll bust your head. I guess I’m particularly interested in the way Comte seems to yearn for that kind of identification with a partner. Somebody who has similar values: not merciless, but also won’t bend when a situation requires confrontation.

All that being said, there was one more aspect of the story that I was endlessly interested in. I’m going to link the post here, in that it’s tangentially related to this meta; it really made me better able to articulate what I mean to say. 

“Never let generosity hold hostages; courtesy is an essential tool, but a cruel master.”

I’m gonna let that sink in for a moment.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot, because it’s very rare that I read something once and I’m forced to read it several more times before I begin to understand it. My interpretation of that line is to say that benevolence can showcase your good will to others; it can be a reliable proof of good character, and a way to help someone. But the problem comes when people do conventionally/perceived generous things with the explicit intent of repayment by some measure. While it is only responsible to care for others as they care for you, you shouldn’t make impossible sacrifices with the expectation that the other person is indebted to you--especially if the other party had no ability to consent to that sacrifice.

How does this apply to Comte in this event story? Er, in almost every way humanly (vampirely?) possible, in my view. Comte turns MC into a vampire after seeing her plight, largely because he gets the impression that she was fighting for her life--had impossibly survived against all odds. The situation is complicated though. MC wasn’t fully conscious when it happened, so she doesn’t have a proper understanding of how everything went down. So what does Comte do? If he can’t bear to face her or reveal the truth of how horribly she died, he at least gives her every means to survive and makes sure she’s doing okay since she’s technically an orphan now. He doesn’t interfere with her life, or demand recognition for the life he gave her. He fully understands that she wasn’t able to properly consent to his decision in that split second moment, and even if she had he doesn’t see it as a debt she owes him now. He was able to help save her life for at least a little while longer, and so he did. It was as simple as that. He had the ability, she had the need. That’s the end.

But Comte’s emotional acuity doesn’t just end here. Even when she comes after him to kill him, he doesn’t respond with anger because he knows full well he hasn’t explained. Sure he’s sacrificing their relationship (the ability to get along on half-decent terms) but if it means she can find a reason to live, then so be it. He doesn’t lord that sacrifice over her head by any extension; he’s just sad about it because he thinks she’s a wonderful person, and he doesn’t want to be estranged from her. But in his view, her needs supercede his wants.

He doesn’t force her to do chores around the house during her stay, she does it to keep herself busy and search for the truth about his intentions. He even asks her to take breaks and look after herself first, more concerned with her well-being than the state of the mansion. At the ball, he doesn’t force her to linger around him or dance with him despite inviting her there and giving her the dress/jewelry to attend. He leaves her alone as she wishes, only glancing at her to make sure she’s doing okay. When he takes the hit from the violent stranger--a knife straight to the back--he jokes about being s t r o n k, never once blaming her for the wound he sustains no matter how brief.

He explains that he didn’t tell her the truth because it was incredibly traumatic, and it’s only in the safety of the moment--after years of having conceived of her own selfhood beyond the event--that she’s able to take the weight of what happened without falling apart. The premium end just keeps hammering this shit home. He openly tells her she doesn’t have to dance with him at all, that she doesn’t owe him anything just because he likes her. He’s aware it’s unrequited (he thinks) and he doesn’t go on and on about all the sacrifices he made for her with the expectation she’ll reciprocate. He just did what he wanted to do, nothing more. If she feels the same way by some miracle, that’s amazing! If she doesn’t, as it would be valid if not, that’s fair too; no hard feelings.

She has to be the one to invite him to dance and insist. She’s the one that smiles fondly when he’s telling her that she can choose whatever outcome she pleases, even if it means wanting to live as far as possible from him. There is no guilt trip, no expectation, and no pressure. She has the freedom to leave or stay. It is entirely dependent on her own will. For the first time in a lifetime of loss, her agency is restored to her. That’s huge.

She even admits that she feels bad about being so angry when he really was just trying to help, now that she can understand what he’s doing. And he’s openly shocked to hear it. He had no intention of expecting or asking for an apology. He understands it was his own imposition, both biting her and obscuring the truth, that led to her setting her mind on vengeance. 

I’ve probably hit it home harder than necessary, but Comte just feels like the epitome of good will in the best way possible. One can argue he’s a little selfish for keeping the truth from her for so long, but honestly? Given the horrific trauma of her situation--and his personal fear of making her miserable for an eternity when all he wanted was to give her a second chance away from all that hurt--I feel like his reaction was closer to considerate and reasonable. Comte doesn’t sacrifice anything he isn’t unwilling to give, or anything that would cripple him to give. Furthermore, he doesn’t make love out to be a kind of 1:1. He recognizes that while he might know her well, she doesn’t know squat about him. And, as such, he doesn’t expect her to trust his intentions or reciprocate his feelings in any capacity. It’s just a delightful surprise when she does. When he tells her that he loves her that first time, it’s an explanation. Not a guilt trip. He knows she won’t be satisfied years of protecting her simply because “he wanted to” and he promised her the truth, so he tells her. Not only that, in the aftermath he repeatedly reminds her she isn’t bound to him. She commits to him before he relies on any kind of active bond between both of them.

I don’t know, maybe I think too hard about it, but I feel like the older I get the more I see a shortage of this kind of fine-tuned caring about the other person in a relationship. I guess I just enjoy seeing a man give a woman her health and agency without treating her wellness/happiness like it’s a burden to his life? First and foremost Comte really is concerned with her self-actualization before his feelings can have any place in their relationship. And even when he does confess his love, it isn’t a way to force her to feel indebted to him; it’s an attempt to erase any false pretenses. MC loves him, not because she has nowhere else to go, but because he’s proven himself time and again a worthy companion. Always putting her first, always worried about her feelings, paying such close attention that he sees her to the core of who she is despite her iron front--kind, beneath all that hurt. They spend so much of this event really listening to each other despite such difficult circumstances, and it leads to a deep and abiding love against all odds. And I find that incredibly moving...

Oh and, before I forget? Let me circle back for a moment:

"...it amazed me. You never stopped trying, never stopped helping others or gave up on them--even while every day was a living hell for you."

The best part about this event is that--while Comte says this about MC--this is also precisely the reason MC falls in love with Comte too, even if it’s never stated outright. Because despite how lonely and tired he may be of eternity, no matter how many troubles he’s facing himself, he never stops trying to help and support others (namely MC) in any way he can.

Drops mic

[koreanmadeingreece]

Why, why, why (3)

University student!Yuta x reader

Genre: slight enemies to lovers au, a bit of angst, a lot of fluff, and several mixups

Summary: You just got into uni and decided to move in with your childhood friend!Taeyong at the city where you are going to study. As you’re about to start your new, adult life, you meet his friends, and you realize that not everyone likes you. Nakamoto Yuta in particular almost seems like he hates you.

A/N: In this fic, Jonghyun from NU’EST appears for a while (just to avoid confusion). Also, wow I never thought I’d post this. I hope you guys like it. Also I thought I’d update every Sunday but I couldn’t restrain myself. Welp. 

Warnings: n/a

Word count: 1.8K (I should let you know that I’ve finished writing it so I’ll update it every 3 or 4 days!)

Part 3/I don’t remember First / Previous / Next

Taglist: @melitadala @chxotickpoptrash (please let me know if you’d like to be tagged!)

When you entered the house, V ran into your arms for an embrace, calling you his savior, as you had just brought the food, which made the others laugh. When you reassured them again that you were okay with treating them, you all sat down in your freshly cleaned living room to eat. 

That was when you noticed Yuta sitting a bit further than the others, eating quietly, and decided to come a bit closer to him.

“You’re not very talkative, are you?” You tried to joke around since no one would listen to you. The others were arguing about one of the professors at uni and if he’s single, so they wouldn’t even notice you switching places. 

“Oh, sorry, it was just that I was thinking about something. It shouldn’t make you worry, really,” he answered.

“Are you sure? Because you haven’t talked to me all day. I mean, I know you just met me this morning and that I’m not your friend, but I’d love to get to know you a bit better.” 

“I’m okay with that, don’t worry about me. I’m just paranoid sometimes and I’m thinking a bit too much about certain things, so just ignore me when I do that, okay?”

“So, we’re off to a good start, I guess.”

“Yeah, I guess you can say that.” He smiled at you. This was the second smile he had offered you ever since this morning, and it kind of made you light up a bit. You still didn’t know what made you so interested in him. You just had to get to know him. 

The next day was similar to the first, as you had to finish cleaning and start unpacking both yours and Taeyong’s things and decorate the living room. Thankfully, Taeyong didn’t have a much different taste than yours, so it was actually easy to decide what you’d hang on the walls and what color the couch pillows would be. The biggest issue was your rooms and what you’d do with them. 

You took the boxes with your stuff and Johnny immediately came to help, offering to also help you with your room. V followed you and Yuta went to help Taeyong. You enjoyed their company a lot if you were going to be completely honest, and you secretly thought they’d let you join them sometimes. You really thought you weren’t a burden for them, as they’ve been friends for years and you just came to disrupt their lives. You’d never even think of causing a problem to them, so you waited patiently for any signs that would show you how they felt about you. There was just one thing you had to ask.

“So, how did you guys meet?” you asked, as you were placing your clothes in the closet.

“Do you mean us two, or…”

“All of you. How did you become like… a group?” 

“Ah, funny story,” V said, “I got into a fight on my first day of uni. Someone just came straight to me and called me names because I was zoning out, and Johnny with Taeyong came to my rescue.”

“Aw, they’re true heroes,” you laughed.

“Something like that. Taeyong and Johnny met right there in front of me, and then we all decided to go to lunch together. Then Yuta came. Taeyong had met him a few hours earlier and told him to go to lunch with him, so we all sat together. And we clicked.” 

Johnny nodded in agreement and gave you a stack of clothes to put away, while V was telling the story from your bed. You hadn’t put the sheets on it yet, so it was only a mattress, but it worked well for him. 

“I don’t know if I should be asking this but are Taeyong and Yuta that close? I mean, he doesn’t tell me much over the phone, and with all the stuff going on because of the house we haven’t really talked yet,” you asked.

“They’re close. They’re not together if that’s what you’re asking. They’re just really good friends. If you ask me, we make a great group. It’s just that he always was a bit more protective over Taeyong, but Yuta’s definitely straight. If he wasn’t I’m sure they’d already been together by now,” Johnny told you and you continued putting clothes away, when Johnny interrupted your thoughts. “Don’t mind him. He might seem a bit distant, but he’ll open up eventually. It’s probably that you’ve been friends with Taeyong for so long and he feels kind of left out.”

“Oh my god, have I done anything like that?”

“No, no. Don’t worry about it. He was thinking about it ever since he found out you’d move with Taeyong but, trust me, you haven’t done anything. I mean, you didn’t make any of us feel bad. You’re actually fun to be around. You can come to hang out with us whenever you want, okay?” Johnny’s words were music to your ears. What you were hoping for was coming true. Your new life had officially started taking its form, and you were ecstatic about it. 

Your house was finally ready, your posters were on the walls and your clothes were in the closet. After you made your bed and had V try it out, you could finally sit and enjoy it.

“Did you call your mom? She’s probably scared to death that she just let you handle a new house on our own,” Taeyong told you after the guys left.

“I did and I also sent her pictures. She’s thrilled.”

“Your dad?”

“Mom said he just nodded. I wouldn’t expect anything else.” You sat on the couch next to Taeyong.

“He doesn’t get really involved, does he?”

“Only when he’s in the mood. Which happens about… five times a year?”

“Sucks to be you.”

“Yeah, especially when he missed my gymnastics performance.” You took a bite of your sandwich. 

“Well, now you’re here. If he doesn’t want to lose you, he has some work to do. Now, will you give me a bite?” And that was how the evening passed with Taeyong. You were calm, relaxed and it was exactly how you imagined it to be. All you had to worry about for the time being was the first day of uni. 

You woke up the next morning and looked too pale to be human, as you had barely managed to sleep last night. You got dressed in one of your favorite outfits, a loose red shirt and black ripped jeans, and washed your face before putting some mascara and lipstick on. When Taeyong confirmed you looked hot, you were ready to go. Taeyong left you outside of the building of your first class and left for his class.

You went inside and found a seat not too close to the professor, and soon after, you noticed a tall guy approaching you and taking the seat next to you.

“First day, huh?” he asked you. “Are you excited?”

“Yeah, pretty much. I’m kind of stressed too. What’s your name, by the way?”

“I’m Yugyeom. It’s nice to meet you.” He extended his arm to you for a handshake. 

“I’m Y/N.” And that was your first acquaintance. He seemed really nice. Kind, at least. You liked him at a first glance. He turned to speak to you quite a few times during our first class, but he didn’t annoy you. He was quite pleasant to be around. 

After a while, you heard someone enter the room, stumbling on the stairs. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” he said and took the seat next to you, on the opposite side of Yugyeom. “Was I too loud?” he whispered to you. 

“No, don’t worry about it. No one’s going to remember it tomorrow anyway,” you smiled at him. 

“I hope so. And, if they do, at least I made them laugh.” He smiled back. “I’m Chan.”

“I’m Y/N and this is Yugyeom,” you said and shook hands with him as well.

When the first class was over, you headed to the other classroom for the next period and sat next to the two boys you had just met. They were extremely fun to be with, especially Chan, who was a walking mess and extremely clumsy. 

You suggested going for coffee after class, so you texted Taeyong not to pick you up and walked next to Chan and Yugyeom, who knew a nice coffee shop around the corner. You found a table and sat down when you saw a guy approaching your table. 

“Hey, Yugyeom, wasn’t he sitting close to us in class?”

“Now that you mention it, yeah. Should we tell him to sit with us?” And, before you could even answer, Yugyeom was already standing up from his chair. “Hey! Wanna sit with us?”

“Uh, sure.”

“We saw you in class, we’re not creeps, I promise,” you reassured him. “This is Yugyeom and this is Chan.”

“I’m BamBam.”

“BamBam?” Chan asked. “Is it a nickname?”

“Yeah, I’m from Thailand and no one actually remembers my real name, so I use this one instead.”

“Oh, that’s so interesting!” Yugyeom was amazed and started talking to BamBam nonstop, which he didn’t seem to mind, so you just talked to Chan until Yugyeom’s rant ended.

“Would you like to order?” The waiter interrupted you. He was standing next to your table for a while, but no one had noticed him.

“Yeah, sorry,” you said and turned towards him, as he was standing beside you. That was when you noticed how hot he looked and, right after everyone ordered, you turned to Chan. “I don’t know if you’re gay, straight, or anything else, but that one was hot as fuck.”

“I’m bi, and yes he was. You should ask for his number.”

“Chan, I’m not that bold.”

“Yeah, but you have nothing to lose. Look, we can send you to pay when we’re done, so you can talk to him without us there. That doesn’t involve any flirting, right?”

“Fine. Give me your money, y’all.” The other two guys turned to you in shock, but Chan promised to explain while you were gone. So, you got up and walked towards the register. 

“Hi,” you told him. When he turned towards you, you deeply wished you hadn’t agreed to this. He was too handsome for you to handle.

“Ah, they sent you to pay?” He laughed.

“Yeah, they did.” You paused and contemplated if you should continue the conversation when your thoughts were interrupted.

“Um, I’m sorry if it’s weird to ask, but what’s your name.”

“I’m Y/N.”

“Ah, that’s a beautiful name. I’m Jonghyun. Do you happen to go to uni here?”

“Yeah, film major. This is my first year. What about you?”

“Me too! But I’m in the third year.” He smiled at you, but he was called to a table and had to go. “You should come by again tomorrow. I can treat you to a cup of warm coffee. My shift ends at 6.”

[katsukikitten]

Wholesome Frat AU, Clearly aged up, college au, main characters are Bakugou, Kirishima, Denki, Sero, Jiro, Mina, and of course you my dear reader. Sexual themes, mentions of drugs and booze through out.

AHEM

Chapter 1

Denki lies upside down off his bed, staring at his phone when another invite to a party comes through. It's from a classmate he shares notes with and one of the few non toxic dudes on campus. A smile forms on his face, his fingers ready to fly across the screen to confirm his Friday night to be golden and one to remember. 

Or maybe wish to remember as alcohol and maybe some weed numb his senses. 

But then the location comes through, a frat house that's notorious for ignorance and low key rape culture. He turns it down claiming to study and sighs. Staring at his shared four walls from the top bunk. 

"What's going on with you? No one wants you to keep their bed warm tonight?" Sero teases passing him up a beer before starting the next round of his game. Preferring to get buzzed and troll in Apex lobbies than find somewhere to be tonight.  

Their phones buzz at the same time, Kirishima coming through on the group chat. 

Big Red 🦈 : Any plans tonight boys?

Boomboi 💣 : Fuck off, busy. 

Tape dispenser 🎞 : Apex

Zaptos ⚡: got invited to a party but location is sus af. You bro? 

Big Red 🦈 : Yikes 😬 Keepin some ladies safe. Don't like the scene here…

Tape dispenser 🎞 : Same

Zaptos ⚡: Same

Boomboi 💣:  FUCK OFF!

Denki and Sero both smirk at their phones before moving on with their Friday night with small talk of Instagram stories and received risque snapchats. As the beer fridge gets dwindles  their thoughts seem to grow. 

"Okay, listen. Here me out!" Denki says as if Sero would ever come off defensive. He finishes his eighth beer before continuing. 

"What if we started our own frat? Like...like a fucking wholesome one." 

"Dude not only does that sound impossible but what would we call ourselves?" Sero chuckles nursing his seventh beer. Denki pauses for a moment, trying to think of something, anything great. 

"Alpha Kappa Wholesome." He smiles, "Yea that's it!"

Sero laughs from his bottom bunk earning an angry faced Denki to put half of his body over the side of his bed. 

"I'm serious man! We could kick out whoever doesn't match our values. This college is supposed to be about making 'lasting connections' with fellow heroes! How are we supposed to do it when we are cooped up in our tiny dorm!" He gestures to their cramped room. A set of bunk beds and desks with their TV and shared dresser on the far wall. Sero looks around, this sure as hell wasn't like the dorms at UA that's for sure. 

"Okay well two people isn't enough for a frat, man." Sero lets the dream die before it can bloom, running a hand through his raven hair. Denki scrunches up his face before he remembers where his crush stays.  It's as if a light bulb lit up atop his upside down head. He jolts himself falling from the top bunk crashing into the empty beer bottle. They clink in protest but thankfully non break, just roll beneath the bottom bunk. 

"But there is a sorority of only four and we have four friends in our group!" 

Denki decides now is a good time to face time them. Kirishima answers first with a shout that he's gonna step outside, the roaring party and flashing lights die behind the shutting door while Bakugou is illuminated by the light of his screen glaring into the camera while a meek looking girl hides. 

"This better be fucking good." Bakugou growls. 

After an hour and a half of screaming Denki finally convinces Bakugou that sharing a house with the three of them as opposed to a rando was a much better idea. Reminding him that he had done it for three years in highschool surely he could last two more. He agrees but refuses to help argue with the dean meanwhile Kirishima is GLOWING with excitement over the idea formulating with his sober mind the best way to handle the notorious harsh Dean. 

It takes petitions, several meetings and almost til the spring break to come down to this, the final meeting. Bakugou, who has attended every meeting and true to his word has said nothing. Denki nervous as a sinner in church, Sero who's sweating bullets and Kirishima all sit in the room with the board, treasury and the Dean in a final meeting of sorts. 

Kirishima gulps and before he can explain the benefits the frat will have to offer the Dean stops him with a simple show of his hand. Taking a report from the secretary of treasury to look over, he just needed the monetary excuse to back up his favorite word. 

"No." He clears his throat, "Unfortunately funds are too low to be able to support another fraternity." The Dean leaves it at that not even bothering to offer they join something preexisting. 

Three of the four men accept defeat, mentally communicating that they did a good job trying. But the fourth man dreamed of his own room, of his own space to do as he pleased. And all without threat of being charged with murder. Although the fourth man would never admit that the reason he spoke up wasn't totally about the room, it was the look of defeat, anguish on his friends faces that had the room heating up a degree or two and smelling heavily of boiling sugar. 

"Oi, toupee." The hot head let's his seat fall back to all fours, fixing the Dean a withering look, "You said something about not enough money huh?" 

The Dean swallows thickly carefully thinking out his next sentence. 

"Why, Yes its…." Bakugou interrupts before the Dean can even finish his thought. 

"Pretty sure I'm the reason this campus is gonna be swarming with fucking no name extras next year." Katsuki's smile widens as his hand pops, "If you deny this request with the money I'm making you then I'll participate in the university sports festival with another college's across my fucking chest." 

The Dean visibly sweats, Bakugou really was a hard student to land. His brash attitude and unapologetic behavior was popular among the younger generation bringing with it an influx of applicants and donations. It hadn't even been 24 hours since his announcement did it crash the admin and donation site. He panics, not even sure if there is any real estate available on or around campus in order for him to legally allow this fraternity to flourish. As if reading his mind the secretary of grounds offers him a file, an old run down home within a decent walking distance of the main campus. The Dean exhales the breath he didn't realize he was holding. 

"Let's not act so rash. It has just come to my attention that we have some extra funding to be able to purchase a place for you all…" He looks over the file, he hopes this is enough to placate the hot head, "But it will need some old fashioned sweat equity, if we can secure it. The town has been kind enough to offer us first dibs to real estate within a certain radius of campus and if they like our offer you hardworking men will have your 'Alpha Kappa Wholesome home." 

"They better like your offer." Is all Bakugou says before standing, "We get the keys in a month, got it?"

He doesn't give the Dean time to rebuttal, he just leaves while the other shocked three follow suit. It isn't until they are in the courtyard does their excitement hit them all at once.

"HOLY SHIT BAKUBRO ALWAYS COMING IN ON THE FUCKING KLUTCH!" Denki shouts, tackling Bakugou into a hug, Sero and then Kirishima wrap their arms around the yelling hot head who threatens to blow them up. 

"I owe you a fucking drink!" Kirishima shouts lifting the group and twirling them  

"OI OI OI SHITTY HAIR PUT ME DOWN!" 

After that promised drink and a month of waiting the four musketeers stand before their new home. The house is trashed, easily a short sale of a foreclosure as the rent went higher but their wages stayed low. The amount of work to make this place semi decent was going to be astronomical at best. 

Bakugou is thoroughly unimpressed, scoffing as Denki runs up the porch. The vision is clear in the electric blonde's head. The massive porch is clean, with a swing and some chairs, string lights hanging from the wooden ceiling while the half wrapped around, second story porch is draped in endless artificial star light cloaking the house in cozy warmth. 

Dneki opens the front door and plume of dust rushes out around him, the other two follow suit. Taking the steps two at a time as they rush into the house. Harsh garnet stares after them before glancing at their luggage. He decides to leave it all stepping inside. 

Their imaginations run rampant as they stand beneath the large archway to the main living room while Bakugou begins to second guess opening his mouth. That or getting more money from the Dean. Before displeasure can leave the hot head his friends turn to face him, their eyes shining and smiles stretched wide, wide enough it begins to hurt Bakugou's own cheeks. They encourage him to step into the home more, telling him what will go where. For a moment his smile is soft, tender as he looks at these three idiots seeing the bright side of everything before he steels back into his normal self.

"Oi! Quick acting all googly eyed. We've got a lot of work to do and a lot of fucking money to raise." 

The four friends spend majority of their spring term picking rooms and doing basic cleaning. Bringing only one of the two full bathrooms up to par, trying their best to keep up with the old big house. Even after all of them picked their rooms there were still three bedrooms and a den with a door left. They brain stormed adding recruits but Bakugou shot the idea down despite Sero being elected the president of the frat. 

Spring boils into summer, bringing with it the promise of cold hard cash. Bake sales and lunch deals thanks to Bakugou's cooking skills brought in a large amount of income, so did the odd jobs Kirishima, Denki, and Sero found themselves doing. Still they find themselves short.

"Shirtless carwash!" Denki announces earning a glare from Bakugou. Kirishima pipes up before the idea is blasted sky high. 

"Think of the money man. The community around here is soccer mom's and freshly graduated college kids and I don't know about yall but when I go for a run or hit up the corner store after a good run I'm being stared at." 

"That's a valid point Bakugou. I've seen how they flock to you for baked goods, they've been staring at your arms and eyes man." Sero adds voting yes to the idea making it three to one. 

Just as Kirishima said, woman and even some men, flock to the area for a car wash. Some even coming back twice in one day! The cash flow is good but still a bit lacking. Denki wipes the sweat from his brow as he wonders how they will get enough to be able to get decent light fixtures and a working fridge in the dorm. Let alone anything aside from a blown up mattress and folding chairs in the living room. He scrolls through his social media on his break and comes across the miracle he has been asking for. 

A lovely summer picture of four women in bikinis, three of them his housemates have lived with before. Mina Ashido, Jiro Kyoka,  Ochako Uraraka, and then there is the new woman, you.

But what makes the picture that much sweeter isn't even the content itself, no it's that gorgeous caption just beneath it. 

"BASIC BITCH CAR WASH! Help us raise money for an apartment so our sorority doesn't get disbanded!" 

An idea formulates in the electric blondes head so quickly he thinks sparks fly from his ears. A dangerous smile forms on Denki Kaminari's lips. 

[lifeofkaze]

When Stars Ignite - Chapter 14

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N: Katriona Cassopeia (in mention) belongs to the gorgeous @kc-and-oc

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning:

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @carewyncromwell @night-rhea @thatravenpuffwitch

Man, we were killin' time We were young and restless We needed to unwind I guess nothin' can last forever Forever, no… ~ Bryan Adams - Summer of ‘69 ~

Much to his relief, Orion’s fear of having been discovered seemed to prove unwarranted. Skye was a direct person, never shy to speak her mind; if she had truly seen something not meant for her eyes during the interview, Orion was sure she’d have already come and spoken to either of them.

But nothing of the sort had happened. She had acted just like she always did and his first surge of worry had died down again. Sometimes even the most focused mind was prone to being tricked and, as he had to admit to himself, focus was something he found himself lacking in these days.

It wasn’t only because of Lizzie’s teasing getting riskier that he found his mind wandering more often than not. Ever since the show they were meant to be playing for the children from the foster system had shown its face on the horizon, an ever present restlessness had been growing in Orion.

Dreams that he had pushed to the edges of his mind a long time ago had started haunting him again; they kept coming back whenever they held an event stirring the buried memories of his childhood. He loved seeing the light in the children’s faces when they were spending time with them; he knew it was a rare sight, after all. The emotional mess Orion carried back with him afterwards was the dark side of the coin, however.

The charity event was scheduled for the next day; they were to play a small acoustic set for the children in the afternoon and their regular show only a few hours later on top. To keep their spirits high before the double load, Ethan had scheduled a day off for them.

The weather was still uncharacteristically hot and so most of the band and crew had found themselves at the small pool on the rooftop of their hotel. Much to everyone’s surprise, even Artemis had joined them.

Charlie had followed Skye’s advice to take Artemis for drinks a few days prior. He had been unusually tight-lipped about it when they had asked him how it had gone down.

“It was good,” he had shrugged, “told you she’s not as bad as you all think.”

While the young pyro tech still kept her distance from the rest of them, Orion had seen her chatting with Charlie outside of their work on stage since then. He was glad she seemed to be taking a step into the right direction, lowering her armour even for the tiniest bit.

But Artemis’ tentative attempts at integrating herself with their group lounging by the pool were counteracted as soon as she took her shirt off. Everett audibly wolf-whistled at her black bikini with surprisingly colourful patterns crisscrossing it. Her withering glare was met with a lewd grin as Artemis picked up her stuff and dumped it on the deckchair farthest away from them.

Lizzie gave Everett a smack on the back of his head. “Well done, Ev, you’ve scared her away. I wanted to have a chat with her.”

Everett looked at her over the rim of his sunglasses. “I’m not stopping you. Two beauties in bikinis getting close? Who would I be to object? You could rub her back with sunscreen.”

He laughed to himself. “If Artemis isn’t up for it, I’m always here for you, gorgeous.”

A hint of the same irritation Orion felt flickered over Lizzie’s face. “You’re a real mood today.”

She got up from her own deckchair and started over in Artemis’ direction anyway, but was stopped by Charlie catching onto her wrist.

“Woah, where are you going, little rockstar?”

“Go and talk to Artemis, see if I can convince her to come over if Ev shuts up.” She gave the singer lounging in his chair a dark look.

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Charlie said and pulled her down next to him. “Trust me, if you push her you’ll be the one scaring her away. She’ll come over if she wants to.”

Lizzie opened her mouth to object but Charlie shook his head. “You can’t force her, sunshine.”

“Fine,” Lizzie snorted, not pleased by the situation, “so what’re we gonna do now?” She nodded in the direction of the pool. “Anyone up for a round of water polo?”

Everett declined, preferring to seek a better place to tan, while Merula did the opposite and withdrew to the shade with a book. So it was Charlie, Lizzie, Andre and Skye who made their way to the water. Orion would have joined them, but he was preoccupied with some ideas that had been floating around in his head since that morning; he wanted to write them down before he’d forget them.

He was lying on his stomach on his deckchair, notebook open in front of him, but found it hard to concentrate. The match of water polo going on in the pool had turned into some kind of wrestling match, like it always did eventually. Lizzie and Skye were sitting on Charlie’s and Andre’s shoulders respectively, trying to knock the other into the water; a lot of giggling and shouting was involved as they fought for the upper hand.

What really distracted him though, was the way the sunlight was refracting in the water droplets on Lizzie’s skin when she moved. It let her slender body shimmer, her tan she always got so quickly in the summer months a beautiful contrast to the vibrant red of her bikini. Her wet hair looked a lot darker than it actually was and it was clinging to her back.

Skye almost managed to knock her off Charlie’s shoulder and Lizzie laughed as she righted herself again. It was the kind of laugh that made her stand out amongst all the others, bright and captivating. It gave her an aura that was impossible to escape, drawing eyes whenever she entered a scene. She had the ability to light up a whole room with her smile, as fresh and beautiful as a sunrise.

“I’d say I’m 95.9 % sure what you’re staring at, my friend,” Orion suddenly heard the voice of Murphy next to him, “or should I rather say who?”

Orion tried not to let his surprise show; he had been so lost in thought that he hadn’t heard his best friend approach. “Your meaning is obscure to me,” he answered evasively. “I’m simply trying to work here.”

Murphy couldn’t hide his smirk. “When you’re working, your attention is usually 87.5 % focused on your work, more if no one is distracting you. Four out of five times you don’t even react when spoken to.” He glanced down at the mostly blank page of Orion’s notebook. “Today I’d say your focus is reduced to abysmal 30.9 %.” Never missing a detail, his eyes flicked to the still on-going wrestling match in the pool.

With a sigh, Orion closed his notebook and rested his head on his arms. Murphy was far too observant to be lied to, but he didn’t have to know all the details either.

He indicated their laughing friends with a slight nod of his head. “It is good that our friends are having a great time, it strengthens their bond of friendship. But they are making a lot of noise, it’s bound to draw attention.”

The dismissive sound Murphy was making clearly showed that he wasn’t buying it. “It’s obvious they’re distracting you. But from what I’ve seen, 95.5 % of the time you’ve spent looking at them were devoted to one of the pairs, and while I do have to admit that Andre’s new gold bangles are surprisingly flashy and apparently water resistant, I highly doubt it was him that drew your attention, same goes for Skye, although her hair usually is an eye catcher, I’ll give you that. That leaves Charlie and dear Lizzie, and last time I checked, you weren’t one for redheads, that’s more my thing. Not that I want to say I find Charlie particularly attractive, although some might say so, but I digress. So only one option remains, and as the one and only master of logical deductions, the great Sherlock Holmes, once said, ‘Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable…”

“...must be the truth’,” Orion finished with a sigh. “I know the quote. You're quoting numbers all day every day, do you really feel the need to go into literature as well now?"

Ignoring him, Murphy was grinning from ear to ear, clearly satisfied with his conclusions. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Orion wasn’t answering immediately; he didn’t like Murphy’s prying at all. “Are you done, Detective McNully?”

“Fine, don’t answer me then, I don’t need confirmation,” Murphy snorted. “The stats never lie, my friend.”

Orion rolled his eyes, hoping Murphy wouldn’t delve into another one of his statistical sprees. Although he was right in that his numbers were seldom wrong, Orion himself preferred a more open-minded view of his surroundings to Murphy’s cold, analytical observations; especially, if these observations were directed at his own behaviour.

But of course, Murphy wasn’t deterred. “To the attentive observer, which of course you know that I am, all the facts are there. Eight out of ten times your mood changes for the better when Lizzie enters the room. Seven out of ten times she starts smiling when she looks at you. You two look at each other during shows and soundtracks 46.4 % more often than at the others and yes, I factored out the times when you need to because of the cues she’s giving you, thanks a lot for asking. You hug each other at the end of the shows significantly longer as well. When you leave the backstage area, you’re never leaving together but almost always in close succession.”

The blond sound technician crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Are you really sure there isn’t anything you want to tell me?”

Orion was more than a little shocked at all the facts Murphy had just thrown at him. “I had no idea it was that obvious.”

Murphy shrugged, a sly smile appearing on his face. “Only to me. You’ve been my best friend for as long as I can remember, and my above average observational skills, which of course not everyone possesses, solved 82.3 % of the mystery.”

“What’s with the rest?”

“What I can offer in facts, I sometimes lack in interpreting. Katriona connected the dots.”

“Obviously,” Orion sighed.

“So, what’s the deal with you two? Are you dating?” A frown appeared on Murphy’s face. “I thought you had a clause about this in your contracts. Ethan’s not going to like this.”

Orion vehemently shook his head. “No, you got that wrong. We’re not dating, everything is just like it has always been. We’re just enjoying additional pastimes, which - I’ll give you that - may exceed a regular friendship.”

He looked at Murphy intently. “No one besides you knows about this, and I would appreciate it if it stayed that way.”

Murphy made a non-committal sound. “Of course this doesn’t include Katriona.”

“As if any of us could keep a secret from her.”

“I normally don’t go for absolutes but that’s 100 % true,” Murphy laughed. He looked at Orion curiously. “So how long has this thing between you and Lizzie been going on now?”

“A while,” Orion answered evasively.

“The definition of ‘a while’ ranges from two weeks to up to a year. Judging by my numbers, it’s definitely not the former. Doesn’t sound like a short lived fling to me.”

“I wouldn’t call it a fling,” Orion said; it was surprisingly hard to put what was going on between them into words. “But we’re definitely not emotionally involved with each other. It’s not a matter of the heart, more of a physical extension built on the base of our friendship.”

Murphy leaned back into his wheelchair and grinned. “The old classic, friends with benefits.”

“If that’s the label you want to stick on it.”

Murphy hummed in response, following Orion’s gaze to the pool again. His voice was quieter when he spoke this time. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? We are both on the same page about it.”

“Just saying, things like these seldomly work out as well as they start. Approximately 89.6 % of physical relationships end in chaos, tears or both.”

The memory of his own initial worry emerged in the back of Orion’s mind. He watched as Skye gave Lizzie a final push that sent her toppling from Charlie’s shoulders. She shrieked before she crashed into the water, but was already laughing again when she resurfaced; Orion firmly pushed his concerns away.

“It won’t escalate with us,” he said. “Both of us value our friendship, and the fate of Equinox even more so. We’ve established very clear rules. I appreciate your worries, but they are misplaced.”

“As much as I love rules for the structure they’re bringing, rules can easily be broken,” Murphy said. “Just be careful, okay? Mixing friendship with sex can be a lot of fun but the devil’s in the detail.”

They both watched Lizzie climbing out of the pool and heading over into their direction. When she passed Everett, he pulled down his sunglasses and watched after her, his eyes very slowly travelling up and down her body. He said something to her Orion couldn’t hear, but Lizzie only rolled her eyes, shot something back and continued on her way. Murphy's eyes flicked from her to Orion.

“Aren’t you bothered with Ev hitting on her?”

Orion shrugged. “Why would I? She’s not my girlfriend, and she can perfectly handle herself, as you’ve just seen.”

“That she undoubtedly can,” Murphy laughed, “I’ll better be off now and leave you two alone. I wonder where my beautiful wife is. I haven’t seen her in quite a while now.”

[queen-scribbles]

The Long-Burning Torch

For the @shepherds-of-haven​ Shepherds Summer event, the Ryn/Red muses latched onto 20′s Detective AU and would not let go. I’ve gone so deep down this rabbit hole there’s gonna be chapters, but the first piece works as a standalone. (title might change along the way, again bc chapters)

----

There were, in Xaeryn’s experience, two types of people who made use of her services. Both were driven by desperation, both tended to hit her doorstep late in the day. There were the belligerent ones, incensed they had to stoop to hiring her, a Mage, to solve their problem. From them she had to pull the pertinent facts of their case one begrudging sentences at a time. And there were the frantic ones, who had exhausted every other route and she was their last chance. Details poured so freely from them she had to pick through it to find what was actually relevant to the case.

The young man standing before her now, at the start of her day, appeared to fit neither of those groups. He’d knocked and entered without awaiting an invitation, seeming unperturbed by the eyebrow she arched at his arrival.

“May I help you?” Xaeryn asked, leaning forward to rest folded hands on her desk.

He shifted to fold his own hands over the head of a walking stick she’d wager he didn’t actually need and smiled dryly. “If your reputation is anything to go by, Miss Shrike, I certainly expect so.”

She gestured to the chairs in front of the desk. “Let’s find out, Mr...?”

“Riel Syndran,” he said, passing her a business card as he took the offered seat.

The card was hardly necessary, and Xaeryn set it on the desk with only a passing glance. “You run Whitestone Couriers, don’t you?”

There was the faintest twitch on the left side of his jaw. “The company is a guild venture.”

“And I wouldn’t be much of a snooper if I couldn’t figure out who truly ran a company as vital to the city of Haven as Whitestone Couriers, Mr. Syndran.”

He gave her a sharp smile. “Very good. I knew coming to you first was the right call, Miss Shrike.”

“Flattered as I am by your confidence” --and she was; she was typically the last resort, being first was something of a novelty-- “why don’t you tell me what or who you need found, and we can discover if said confidence is warranted.”

“I’m certain it is,” Syndran said, his gaze briefly dropping to the Shrike Investigations placard on the edge of her desk. “But you are correct. To business.”

And business, as he explained it, ran thus: Whitestone Couriers had been contracted to transport a collection of artefacts, originally from all parts of Blest, from their previous temporary home at the Conte-by-the-Sea museum to Haven’s Hall of History and Culture.

”How well-known was your being contracted?” Xaeryn interjected.

“It was something of a secret,” Syndran replied, flicking invisible dust off his sleeve. “Some of the pieces are quite valuable, so it was largely in hopes of avoiding theft.”

Hopes that had proven vain. They’d had an uneventful journey--blessed with good weather, even--made it through city customs upon arriving at Haven (checked everything after making it through and found nothing amiss), and proceeded to the museum. Upon unpacking the artefacts, however, it was discovered one was missing.

(Of course.)

The missing piece--an obsidian and bronze pendent thought to belong to a ruler in the Jalis desert pre-Autarchy--had limited monetary value, especially compared to some of the other items in the collection. (Those, of course, had been more closely watched.) Its worth was largely historical and religious.

“Enchantments?”

“None so far as we know.”

“I’ll look into it for you,” Xaeryn said with a nod. She loved mind-twisters like this. “I’ll need to talk to your people, as well as the museum staff, so it would be helpful if you let them know I’m coming. Otherwise my kind” --a twitch of her fingers set energy dancing above them briefly-- “aren’t usually given the time of day.”

“Of course. I shall do so.” Syndran stood and bowed. “I thank you for taking my case, Miss Shrike, and look forward to your success.”

“Two things, Mr. Syndran,” she spoke up as he turned toward the door. She waited until he paused and looked back to continue. “I will, of course, endeavor to find this relic on my own, but should I require an expert’s... knowledge of its history, say, is outside help acceptable?”

His nose wrinkled briefly. “If you must. But as few others as possible, and only those you trust to keep it in strictest confidence.”

“Understood.”

“And the second thing, Miss Shrike?”

She smiled. “One third estimated payment is due upfront.”

“Oh, obviously.” He returned the smile and pulled out his checkbook.

----

She made some good progress between that afternoon and the next day. Interviews with the caravan guards and those responsible for the artefact collection gave insight to their procedures--which were indeed top-notch; it was impressive someone had managed to find a weakness--and how long the pieces were out of their sight coming through city customs.

“Don’t see why that matters,” the pink-haired courier who’d been in charge of the caravan commented. “We checked them all when we got through; made sure everything was still there. Standard procedure.”

“When you say you checked, is this a thorough examination or just a glance to make sure it’s still there?” Xaeryn asked, glancing at the notepad balanced on her knee.

“There’s no fine-tooth comb involved,” came the somewhat tart and harried reply, “but we do look to confirm it’s there and undamaged so nothing undeserved can later be blamed on us. The company has a sterling reputation for a reason, Miss Shrike, and the guild would very much like to keep it that way.”

“Hence your boss coming to me instead of the police.” Xaeryn tapped her pen against her chin and skimmed over her notes. “I think I have everything I need, Miss Aerin. Thank you for your time.”

Aerin gave a sharp nod. “Of course. Anything to get this cleared up and the artefact found as quickly as possible.” She flicked a worried glance toward the notebook as Xaeryn slipped it in her handbag. “How much did you write down? A lot of our procedures are trade secrets; if someone should see...”

Xaeryn laughed and withdrew the notepad again, flipping it open to show the other woman the symbols that filled the pages. “Never fear, your secrets are safe with me. An added bonus of my own shorthand; no one else can read my notes.”

“Smart.” A brief hesitation. “No one? You’re sure?”

“Well, perhaps the friend who helped develop it initially, but I’ve tweaked it since then.” She flipped the pad closed and stowed it in her bag. “I think it would take a little work even for him. We worked it out to take faster notes in class, but taking faster notes also come in handy in my line of work.”

Aerin relaxed and nodded again. “I’m sure it does. Thank you for the reassurance, Miss Shrike.”

“Of course. Have a good day.”

“You as well.”

With the last of the days’ intended interviews behind her, Xaeryn headed back to her office. Now to review what she’d learned from all the sources together. She was confident she had plenty to give herself at least a couple leads worth pursuing, even if there wasn’t enough for a scry.

---

It took a day and a half of running herself off her feet for Xaeryn to burn through the leads she’d found without much to show for it. She’d been unable to track down the specific guard who checked that portion of the shipment, but his supervisor assured her such an important collection would have been treated with utmost care, seeming miffed at the insinuation otherwise. None of the drivers or other courier employees had noticed anything unusual once they passed through customs, no interruptions or suspicious folks in the streets.

Even scrying had fizzled out without so much as a vague semblance of where it might be.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Xaeryn dug her fingers into her short hair and glowered at the photographs of the pendent Mr. Syndran had given her. It was so small. So easily concealed. And so simple it would hardly draw attention unless you knew what it was.

She’d been forced to grudgingly admit her minimal progress to Mr. Syndran when he called for an update and it had her in a foul mood. This sort of baloney was not how she kept the lights on. It was time for a new tack.

If she couldn’t (yet) trace where the pendent vanished from, perhaps it would work better to learn more about it; figure where it might be going and get a solid enough knowledge of it she could successfully scry its location. Who would want it badly enough for the hassle of stealing from Whitestone Couriers to be worth their while? Looking into the pendent’s history and provenance seemed the next logical course. Just because Mr. Syndran had told her it was on loan to the collection from the “proper” owners did not mean said owners had told him everything, or indeed, that they’d told the truth. She needed an expert and knew just where to find one.

It had been long enough since her time at Solhadur Academy Xaeryn actually had to look up the telephone number before calling. As she listened to the line ringing, she wondered absently how much of a gentle scolding Headmaster Tevanti would give her for her first contact in more than a decade being to ask for something rather than merely catching up. She’d always been the type not to bother people unless she had to. That was, after all, what she preferred. And her self-reliance had carried her through quite a bit. But she was aware most people would differ from her on that point; Tevanti especially was fond of jawing, so he would surely have words for her long silence.

She let it go to ten rings before giving up. Revelation came with a glance at the clock; it was late enough there was likely no one around to answer. No matter. She could drive out tomorrow. The Academy was in Capra, that wasn’t terribly far. (Not for business, anyway.) Headmaster Tevanti wouldn’t mind one of his favorite students dropping in for an hour or so to discuss a relic from one of his favorite historical periods. She’d even engage in small talk, if he wanted.

Xaeryn smiled to herself and locked both the photographs and her notepad in one of the desk drawers. If that was her plan for tomorrow, she should turn in early, make sure she was well-rested. Time for a trip down memory lane.

---

The morning was uneventful, aside from the troublesome discovery she’d left her office unlocked all night. She was normally more attentive than that, even being on a higher floor. But nothing was disturbed or missing, so Xaeryn shrugged it off and got on with her day.

If she selected her wardrobe with a more critical eye than usual, well, she wanted to look professional. Headmaster Tevanti had been a wonderful mentor, and she wanted to show how far his encouragements about using her bright mind and sharp eye had carried her.

(She wondered, briefly, as she pulled on the royal blue skirt and its matching blouse, accented in deep golden-yellow, if she would see any other familiar faces. But she shook off the warmth of the thought; they’d all scattered to the winds after graduation. Getting to see Tevanti would be enough.)

Satisfied with her ensemble, and needing to fill some time before she left, Xaeryn sat at her desk with her notepad and transcribed everything she knew about the missing pendent(not much), along with questions to ask. She picked out the best of the photographs from Mr. Syndran, just in case, and sighed as she looked at the clock. She’d still be a tad early for it to be polite, especially just dropping in out of the blue, if she left now.

So I’ll drive at a leisurely pace, she argued to herself. Take my time. Allowing a buffer in case there’s trouble along the way is only wise. God in heaven, she wished she could figure why she had worse jitters about this than some dates she’d gone on. “Oh, this is ridiculous,” she muttered to the empty office.

She locked the remaining photographs back in her desk, slipped the chosen one and her notepad in her handbag. After a moment’s internal debate, she slipped one of her stiletto knives down in her boot as well. Solhadur was far from dangerous, but it was prudent to have some measure of protection when traveling alone. She grabbed a hat on her way out the door--which she made certain to lock this time--and had it securely on her head by the time she reached the car.

----

Despite her efforts to make it a leisurely drive out to Capra, and weather that was perfect for that goal, Xaeryn still found herself standing in the entrance hall of Solhadur Academy at an earlier hour than would usually be considered polite for impromptu business meetings. She debated walking the grounds for a while, revisiting some memories from her time here, but decided simply apologizing for her early arrival was the better course of action.

With a final steadying breath and running one hand down her blouse and skirt to chase away wrinkles, Xaeryn headed for the reception desk. She smiled at the young woman behind it. “Good morning.”

The receptionist blinked, seeming mildly taken aback by how far up she had to look to meet her visitor’s eyes. “Morning, miss. Office hours don’t start until ten-”

“Oh, I’m not a student here,” Xaeryn said with a laugh. “At least, not anymore. And I do apologize for the early appearance, the drive out went much faster than anticipated.”

A brow twitched at that. “And what is it that brings you to Solhadur, miss...?”

“I’m doing research on a selection of artefacts and haven’t been able to turn up much on one.” It was barely a lie; she had read a bit on the other exhibition pieces, even if the pendent was the only one she needed to go deeper. “It’s from a period I know is of particular interest to the headmaster, so I was hoping to speak to him for a while, see if he could help.”

The receptionist pursed her lips. “Former student, you say?”

Xaeryn nodded. “If he’s busy first thing, I don’t mind waiting.”

““No, actually, being early is smart,” the receptionist said with a light laugh. “His hours are more full at the later end of things. This would be the best opportunity if you want some of his time.” She glanced over Xaeryn once more, then nodded. “You can go up. Third door--”

“On the left. I remember,” Xaeryn finished. “Thank you.”

“You might actually beat him there,” the receptionist laughed. “He isn’t always punctual.”

“I remember that, too,” Xaeryn returned with a grin. “Like I said, I don’t mind waiting. It’ll be good to see him again, few more minutes won’t hurt.” She toyed with one of her earrings as she headed up the stairs, steps lingering and heavy with nostalgia.

It was almost exactly as she remembered. A few portraits replaced or rearranged, new photographs from after she left. New name placards outside the doors she passed. The headmaster’s office door was closed, and a light inquiring rap of her knuckles brought no response.

Looks like she was right, Xaeryn thought with a smile, leaning against the chair outside the office to wait. Her gaze drifted to the high ceiling, following the details of familiar carvings to the scenes painted on the ceiling itself. Slightly faded from what she remembered, but that was to be expected after a decade--

“Xaeryn?!” The voice, still familiar even after years apart, sounded like he’d seen a ghost.

Her heart lurched in her chest and she’d spun around before the impulse to do so had even fully registered, his name tumbling from her lips unprompted in return. “Red?!”

He crossed the remaining distance between them in just a few strides(God, he’d gotten taller, how was that even possible?), barely remembered to set the books he carried on the chair before wrapping her in a hug.

Xaeryn didn’t even flinch, and only just managed to keep her grip on her handbag as she hugged him back. He still smelled of old books and ink and sunshine and she smiled at the memories it stirred.

Liefred Antiqua, her seatmate in any classes they shared and best friend regardless of how many they didn’t for the entirely of her time at Solhadur. Friendly, charming, and just as fond of books as he was people. (The nights they’d spent pressed shoulder to shoulder reading in the library were still among her favorite memories.) Between his warm nature and classic good looks, he’d had half the student body swooning  after him, and yet despite the sharp contrast to Xaeryn’s more reserved and self-reliant bent, they’d still spent most of their time together. Their friendship was the strongest of the few she’d formed at Solhadur, and Xaeryn valued it immensely.

(Too much to risk on anything like admitting when the sight of his smile sent something that was definitely not friendship fluttering in her chest. It was just a crush, it would go away.)

( And then it didn’t.)

They’d both had plans to travel after graduation, and she couldn’t count on all her fingers combined the number of times she’d almost suggested they do it together. But in this one thing, she never could quite summon the nerve. And before she knew it, her departure date had arrived and they were hugging farewell, and come with me wouldn’t unstick from her throat. After a few months’ silence stretched between them--both traveling and unsure where the other might be, obviously--she’d resigned herself to their paths never crossing again, much as the thought hurt.

And yet here he was.

All the memories flew through her mind in the few seconds their hug lasted, and had a lump starting in her throat by the time they parted.

“Wonderful as it is to see you,” Red began as he stepped back to reclaim his books and run a glance over her, “what are you doing here?”

Xaeryn cleared her throat as she returned the apprising glance with one of her own. He still looked practically the same. A few inches taller, shoulders a bit more broad, and an attempt had been made to tame his bright red hair. It had only achieved partial success, and combined with the warm glint in his green eyes, he still was the same Red she knew. (The same Red she’d been more than a little in love with, even if she’d never dared the risk of admitting it.)

“I’m doing research,” she said, reaching up to tug the back brim of her hat as she glanced at the office door. “Into some artefacts. I wanted to ask Headmaster Tevanti about one in particular that’s being difficult.”

Red grimaced and fumbled his books. “Did you not hear, Xaer?” His voice went soft on the nickname, despite them being alone. Voices did carry in these halls, as they very well knew. “Tevanti died.”

She blinked, shock and sorrow curling in her chest. “Wh- How? When?”

“Not long after you left, actually,” he said, raking his free hand through his hair and tousling it out of respectability. “You know he’d been having problems with his heart. It gave out a few months after you left.” His brow furrowed. “I’m surprised you weren’t told when you set an appointment.”

“I didn’t so much set an appointment as show up looking to talk,” Xaeryn admitted with a soft, wry snort. “And I did simply say the headmaster when speaking to the receptionist.” She cocked her head. “Who would that be, now?”

Red smiled sheepishly, half-bit his lower lip. “Me, actually.” He shifted the books to one arm and opened the office door. Slightly nonplussed by two such major revelations in a row, Xaeryn was silent as she followed him in.

“I thought you wanted to travel,” was the first thought to pop in her head and then out her mouth as she looked around the office. It was spacious, lined with jam-packed bookshelves(He must be in heaven), and in a state of... corralled disarray that was so very Red it made her smile despite the news about Tevanti.

“I did,” Red replied, setting the books on his desk. “And I got to, at least a bit.” He tucked a handful of papers inside an open tome occupying one of the chairs, flipped the book closed, and set it on a side table so he could offer her a seat.  “I’d already left when he passed, so Professor Rumi and some others kept things going until I got back.” Rather than sit in the chair behind the desk, he shuffled a small stack of books onto the floor and sat in the one next to Xaeryn’s as he continued. “He’d... wanted me as his successor, Xaeryn.”

“That makes sense.” The words were out  before she could weigh them, spurred by the disbelief in his hesitation. “You’re brilliant, charming, and have a history with the school.” Her face warmed in the wake of being so candid, and Xaeryn glanced over at the large painting of Tevanti that hung on the wall between two bookshelves. He knew what he was doing. “You’re a logical choice.”

Red laughed warmly. “High praise from the smartest student in our class.”

“But far from the most charming,” she countered with a wry smile.

The warmth of his gaze didn’t abate. “I’ve always appreciated your-”

“Bluntness?”

“Straight-forwardness,” Red substituted, and was smiling when she looked his way. “An ability to cut to the heart of the subject is an invaluable skill.”

Xaeryn gave a faint shake of her head. “As is your kindness. But speaking of the heart of the matter...”

“Ah, right. You came here for a reason.” He pushed his unbuttoned shirtsleeves up toward his elbows. “I can’t promise to know as much as Tevanti would have, but I’ll certainly do my best to help.”

“Actually...” She snapped open her handbag to pull out the photograph and her notepad. “You’ve done a lot of research on pre-Autarchy history, so you might be able to help more than you think.” She set the photograph on the desk and Red cocked his head to look at it.

“Solimer’s torch...” he murmured, turning the photograph for a better look as his gaze gained that focus of a niche interest being whetted. (Which, for Red, meant she was about to hear everything he knew about the pendent’s history in too much detail to called a summary, and Xaeryn found herself leaning forward slightly in anticipation.) He glanced up at her. “Isn’t this one of the pieces in that exhibit about to open in Haven?”

She nodded. “That’s why I’m researching it.” She bit her lip but barely hesitated on the gamble of her next words. ‘Those you trust’, Mr. Syndran had said, and there was no one she trusted more than Liefred Antiqua. “It was stolen, and I was hired to find.”

His head came up, derailed from the growing ramble on the pendent’s history.  “Oh?”

“I’m a detective,” Xaeryn said, playing with one of her earrings. She laughed softly. “Scrying does give a considerable leg up to finding things. Or people. But that only works when--”

“You know enough about them,” Red nodded. “So this visit is for business, rather than personal.”

“Mostly, yes,” she conceded, resting one hand on his knee. I didn’t know you’d be here.  “But I was more than willing to chat with Tevanti” --there was a pang in her chest--”which most definitely extends to you as well, Headmaster Antiqua.”

His neck and ears went faintly pink as he laughed. “Surely we don’t need to be quite so formal, Detective Shrike?”

“Just ‘Miss’,” she returned with a laugh of her own, withdrawing her hand to instead fiddle with her notepad. “I work for myself, not the cops.” There might’ve been a little pride in her voice at the words, but it was well-earned.

“I thought you wanted to travel,” Red said, turning her own remark back on her.

“And travel I did,” Xaeryn said lightly. “For quite a while, even. But a girl does need a job eventually, and I’ve always loved a good mystery.”

“Or even a bad one,” he teased. “All kidding aside, Miss Shrike, I’m sure you’re a brilliant investigator.”

She smiled, chuckling at the playful glint in his eye even as her ears warmed at the praise. “Thank you. And on that note, what can you tell me about the pendent?”

“Right, right. You’re here on business.” Amusement lingered in Red’s eyes even as he turned back to the photograph. His sleeves started to slide and he shoved them back up again. Xaeryn very deliberately kept her focus on the photograph, not his arms--or hands--as he tapped one finger at the center of the obsidian pendent. “This was a protection...  charm, I suppose you’d call it, worn by the head of the Solimer tribe ages ago. Literal ages. Without refreshing my memory, all I can tell you is they were one of the few tribes whose wanderings regularly took them through the heart of the Jalis desert, and yet they always fared better on those journeys than the other tribes, which was credited to this pendent.”

“So it is magical?” Xaeryn leaned closer to look over the piece again, not that a photograph could do it full justice. This was a familiar position; the two of them bent over a shared project, and she hadn’t realized how much she missed it until that moment.

“Possibly?” Red shifted and his shoulder bumped hers. “ The story goes that on their first attempt to journey through, they saw a light, like a torch, keeping pace with them. It only showed up at night, and seemed far enough away from their caravan the chief felt it was too dangerous to let anyone go after it to see what it was. Their wariness at its presence, however, kept them vigilant enough they were able to see and fend off any wild animals that came after them, and it did nothing except travel their same path, so they let it be. 

“A couple weeks into their journey, as their supplies were starting to run low, the chieftain’s wife was out hunting and strayed far enough in search of food that the sun started setting while she was out. As the skies grew dim she could see the Torch, much larger than they usually did from the caravan, though it was floating away. Seized by good old-fashioned curiosity” --he paused to wink at her and Xaeryn bit back a smile-- “she followed the light rather than work her way back to camp. She kept after it long enough night had nearly fallen when it crested a ridge and disappeared. She hastened after it, and when she made it over the ridge, found herself standing by a waterspring the likes of which they’d never seen. When she looked around for the light she’d followed, there was no sign of it, save a black rock that lay at her feet. There were no other rocks anywhere nearby, so she decided this must be what had caused the torch-like light her tribe had seen. 

“She carried it with her when she returned to the tribe with news of water, and the Solimer took it as a sign of the gods’ favor. The chieftain had it bound in bronze” --he traced a finger along the lines of the coiled setting-- “to be worn as a way to hold that favor. It was passed from leader to leader and from all accounts they had far better luck surviving the desert than the other tribes for a long time.”

“Was that not likely just them knowing better how to handle themselves? If they traveled those portions of the desert more frequently, of course they were better prepared.”

“Maybe.” Red shrugged. “We have no firsthand written records from any of these tribes, just legends and history relayed orally. And a lot of the second-hand ones were... lost when the Autarchy came to power. From the way the stories run, after generation of favor from the pendent, it was lost when the Solimer were defeated in a skirmish over resources with another tribe. Their next several trips went so poorly it cost over half their number, and they wound up assimilated into other tribes within the next couple decades just to survive.”

“Sad,” Xaeryn murmured, though she wondered if the pendent’s loss had become a self-fulfilling prophecy if they believed in it that strongly. “And what happened to the pendent after that?”

“That’s all I know off the top of my head,” Red said sheepishly as he sat back, running a hand through his hair. “Anything more I’d have to research. To refresh my memory.”

“Oh, that’s all? Tsk, tsk, Liefred, you’re slipping,” she teased, then snorted a wry chuckle. “Of course, it’s more than I had.” She showed him the scant lines on a single page of her small notepad.

Red smiled at the sight of the shorthand and let the playful ribbing slide as he ran a finger over the page. “You tweaked it.”

“A bit, to make it jive better with detective work.” Xaeryn tucked the pad back in her handbag. She’d been so caught up listening to him talk she’d not taken a single note. “I’m certain you could work it out with a little time.”

“Oh, time-” Red’s gaze flew to the clock at the same moment there was a knock and muffled “Headmaster?” at the door. “Damn. Forgot I have a meeting.” He smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Tribulations of being in charge. Just a minute!” he called toward the door, then, to Xaeryn, “I can look into this more in my free time, if you’d like.”

What free time? she almost asked, looking at the stacks of books and papers everywhere. But she swallowed that in favor of, “That would be lovely, thank you so much.”

“Any specific information you need?” Red asked as they stood.

“Anything you can find is welcome, but specifically.... What happened to the pendent after the Solimer lost it, who would have claim of ownership, if ownership is contested... anything like that. I want to find it, but part of that may very well lie in figuring out who would have most reason to steal it in the first place.” Xaeryn pulled out a business card and handed it to him. “So I don’t wind up nagging you,” she laughed. “You can call when you find something. The telephone’s in my office, but I live adjacent, so I’ll always hear it.”

Red nodded and slipped the card in his pocket. “I’ll try not to take too long.”

“Much appreciated. Also...” She grimaced slightly. “This is something of a secret; the Couriers don’t want it being common knowledge.”

“Understandable,” he said as they started toward the door. “Oh, don’t you need this?” He reached back for the photograph and held it out to her.

“Yes, thanks.” Xaeryn smiled and tried not to let the flutter in her chest when their fingers brushed as she took it gain purchase. She slipped the photograph back in her handbag as Red opened the door. Given the student waiting in the hall, she was the picture of professionalism--aside from the twinkle in her eye--as she nodded farewell. “Thank you for your time, Headmaster.”

Several things flashed through Red’s eyes, the brief desire to strangle her, a loud burst of laughter, an eyeroll, but he settled on a warm smile, wide enough his dimples just started to show. “Happy to help, Miss Shrike.”

She was still fighting a grin as she turned to descend the stairs, heart practically singing with warmth. Of all the lovely surprises... Regardless of whether she succeeded or failed, this case was already among the most worthwhile she’d ever taken, simply for bringing him back into her life.

[starryeyes-darkestnights]

The City

The second part of the O’Knutzy au where Leo and Logan are still playing for the Lions, but Finn is a musician they met by chance on a roadie to Montreal.

I still don’t know what to call this story! But you can find part 1 here.

Also, this is kind of long, it got away from me :)

The song referenced in this part is The City, by Sam Fischer.

These beautiful characters and their world belong to the incredible @lumosinlove

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

Leo

When Leo and Logan stepped off the plane in Gryffindor painfully early the next morning, their phones buzzed in unison.  

Finn: Hey guys! It’s Finn. Just sending my number. I hope your morning wasn’t too bad after the late night. Mine was excellent, I slept all the way through your entire flight 😇. Anyway, let me know you get this, and I hope you were serious about getting together when we’re all back home. My dancing legs are ready.

Leo heard Logan snort under his breath and looked over to see him smirking as he typed out a response.

Logan: Our morning was awful, thanks for asking. Your dancing legs better be training before we get together again, because I can confirm that as of yesterday, they are not, in fact, ready.

Leo rolled his eyes affectionately, typing as he moved toward the baggage claim.

Leo: Tremz is just grumpy he didn’t get to limbo. Don’t listen to him.

He heard Logan let out an offended sound somewhere behind him and bit back a smile, restraining himself from turning to see Logan’s face.

Finn: Haha, sorry not sorry Logan. Also, if that’s how it’s going to be, then the competition just got real. Bring in the judge. We’ll see whose really got the moves. Spoiler alert, it’s me.

Logan: Challenge accepted. Though I would caution you to reconsider.

Finn: Back down from a dance contest?! Never! THIS. IS. SPARTAAA!!!!

Leo let out a surprised laugh at that. It would seem that Finn shared Logan’s love of a challenge.

Leo: … oh my god.

Finn: You know you love it Leo.

Leo: I do not.  

Logan: He does, I can literally see him laughing.

This time Leo did turn around, just in time to see a smirking Logan flipping him off. Leo shot him a glare.

Leo: Traitor!

Finn: Hahahahah

Logan: Ok our ride is here. I’m gonna go pass out.

Leo: Have a good holiday Finn. Let us know when you’re back in town.

Finn: You too guys. Talk to you soon.

Leo clicked off his phone with a smile and grabbed his bags.

One Week Later

Finn

Finn: Hey guys, just letting you know I’ll be back in Gryffindor tomorrow. I’ve got a late flight in.

Leo: Really? That’s cool. I thought for sure you’d be in Montreal until after the New Year.

Finn: Nah, I’ve got some stuff to do for school, and I have a gig the day after tomorrow I need to be back for.

This was at least 50% a lie.

Which meant, Finn had reasoned with himself earlier as he used the exact same line to explain to his family why he had moved his flight up almost a full week, that the other 50% was the truth.

Finn had been messaging with Leo and Logan since they left Montreal, and when he had found out two days ago that they had only had a three day break with their families over Christmas and that they were now back to work in Gryffindor, he hadn’t hesitated before looking for excuses to get back there himself.

As a result, he really did have a gig scheduled for the day after tomorrow that he had to be back for. He may have begged his way through his contacts list for the past two days to find that gig, but it was real. And even though he didn’t have a single thing due for school, if he now had to go back for the gig, he could totally get a head start on something. Which was kind of the exact same thing. So really, it was more like 75% truth. If you rounded, that made it 100%.

Logan: Sweet. Let us know the time and place, we’ll come and see if you’re any good without us 😉.

Finn scoffed at his phone. He dropped a pin with the location of the gig, took a selfie of himself shooting a rude gesture Logan’s way, and grabbed his guitar.

He prided himself on always putting his best into every show, and if Leo and Logan were going to come to this one, he needed to be a little extra prepared. He hadn’t been able to get either one of him out of his mind since the night they met, evergreen eyes and a sweet dimpled smile flashing behind his eyes every time he tried to play. It was going to be impossible to focus when they were right there in front of him, so if he didn’t want to make an idiot out of himself, he needed to get practicing.

---

Logan

Two days later, Logan was waiting for Leo outside of a coffee shop in downtown Gryffindor.

It was a chilly evening, starting to snow, and he shivered lightly as he looked up at the flakes floating gently in the light of the coffeeshop windows. He picked one and followed its path through the sky, trying to distract himself from the weird knot that had settled in his stomach earlier in the evening. The one he told himself had nothing to do with the visions of freckles and sinfully long lashes that he was trying desperately to keep from flashing through his mind unbidden.

“Whatcha looking at Tremz?”

Logan had been so focused that he nearly jumped out of his skin when a calm voice sounded just beside him.

His hand flew to his chest as he looked up to see Leo smiling down at him, his cheeks flushed from the cold, and a streetlight behind him lighting up his golden curls. Logan’s pulse stuttered. Fuck. He hated being caught off-guard.

“Mon dieu, Nutty.” He choked out, putting a hand to his heart, which was now pounding against his ribs. “Learn to make noise when you walk. You scared the shit out of me.”

Leo just laughed, “If you were paying attention you would have seen me coming. I’m not exactly easy to miss.” He gestured at his long limbs.

He had a point. Logan made a face at him and turned toward the door, looking up at the sign above the entrance as he tried to pull himself together. It read ‘The Burrow’.

“Come on,” he grumbled, his pulse beginning to calm, “let’s get a drink before Finn starts playing.”

When they walked in, Logan was surprised at what they found. The Burrow was much bigger than it looked from the outside. The brightly painted walls went back further than expected, and a second level ran around the perimeter of the room, giving patrons a view down onto the main floor, where a permanent stage was set up in the front corner. The back wall was taken up by a dark wooden bar, several baristas moving gracefully around one another in quick, practised, movements as they mixed and delivered drinks. The rest of the space was filled haphazardly with tables, and those tables were already filled with people, the low buzz of their conversation filling the room.

It was warm, and bright, and it smelled like chocolate and coffee.

“Wow,” said Leo, looking impressed, “This is… not what I expected.”

Logan hummed his agreement, eyebrows raised as he looked around, impressed at how cozy it managed to be despite its size. His eyes landed on an empty table halfway back from the stage and he nudged Leo.  “I’m gonna go grab us seats over there. Will you get drinks?”

Leo agreed, and as he headed toward the bar, Logan started to make his way across the room. He was halfway there when he caught a glimpse of red hair in his periphery. He stopped in his tracks as his stomach made an unexpected flip. Finn was standing near the stage, talking to an older woman who seemed to be helping him with some cables. He was laughing, and even from a distance Logan could see the way his face lit up with it, his wide brown eyes glowing in the warm lights of the coffee shop. Logan was suddenly gripped with the desire to be the one eliciting that laugh, the one who got to be right there to experience it.

He pulled in a sharp breath and stopped himself. This was why he had been trying to block those visions from his mind. It could never happen. Not so long as he was playing in the NHL. Logan had chosen this career knowing it would mean hiding this part of himself away, very deeply, for as long as he wanted to play. He had been doing so well with it, hadn’t even slipped up with Leo. He could shut this down too. Stop it before it had a chance to start.

He took another a deep breath and pulled his gaze away from Finn, moving more quickly now until he was able to slump into the chairs he had targeted. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, trying to get his thoughts back under control. When he opened them again, it was to find Leo right behind him, full lips turned up in an amused smile at catching him staring straight up at nothing for the second time that night. His stomach flipped again at the unexpected sight. Damnit. He needed to get his feelings under control, and he needed to do it now.

“I would ask what you’re looking at again, but it didn’t go so well the first time.” Leo joked as he pulled out the chair across from him.

Logan forced out some kind of noncommittal response and straightened to look at the cups in Leo’s hands, desperate for any kind of distraction from his thoughts.

“What’d you bring me, Nut?” he asked, trying to keep his voice upbeat. But Leo was a goalie, and a good one. His observational skills were well-honed, and he knew Logan. His gaze shot immediately to the older boy’s face, soft blue eyes flickering over his features intently.  His eyebrows furrowed and Logan tensed under his gaze, silently praying for him to leave it alone. Whatever Leo saw in his face, he must have decided to let Logan have it, as he gave him a final once-over and then slowly pushed something that looked iced and sugary in his direction.

“I will never understand why you like these things,” he said carefully, “but I picked the most sweet-sounding one they had.”

“I like them because they’re delicious.” Logan replied, grateful to him for letting it go. “You just have no taste.”

Leo narrowed his eyes, “Strong words coming from – “

A voice interrupted him, “Logan Tremblay?”

Logan looked up to find a very pretty girl standing beside their table.

“And Leo Knut.” added a girl standing beside her.

Logan felt relief wash over him at their timing. This was familiar. This was a distraction he could work with.

---

Finn

Finn had just finished setting up the stage when he finally let himself look for Leo and Logan. He leaned against a wall and cast his gaze around the room, smiling at the comfortable familiarity of the space- one he had performed in dozens of times before. He was stoked to be introducing the boys to this place. He loved the Burrow, and the people who filled it. He had been coming here religiously since his freshman year of college, after falling in love with the strange way it managed to be both big and bright, and cozy and warm. He had been delighted by the contradictory nature of the place on his first visit, and had immediately turned himself into a fixture. After a while he had gotten to know the baristas, and through them, the owner, Molly.

Molly had become somewhat of a second mother to Finn over the years, and, due to their similar fiery red hair, was often mistaken by customers for his actual mother- something Finn found hilarious and she found… not so hilarious, given that she was only ten years older than him. It had been Molly who had helped him overcome his stage fright, had set up his first ever show here at The Burrow way back when. She was also the one who had come through when he was pleading for gigs earlier that week, and even though he was suspicious of the fact that she had, uncharacteristically, not questioned his last-minute request, he had been very happy to see her that evening when she had popped by and helped him untangle a mess of cables.

Now, though, there were only two people Finn wanted to see, and he was hoping to catch them before he started playing. His eyes skimmed across the crowd of cheerful patrons and quickly caught sight of Leo’s tousled blonde curls moving across the room, a head higher than almost everyone else. His smile gave way to a grin as he watched the younger man sit down at a table and pass a drink to Logan. Excitement thrummed in his veins as he pushed off the wall toward them, only to be stopped dead in his tracks when he saw two girls approach the hockey players. He watched as they introduced themselves, and his stomach twisted as Logan sent one of them a cocky, flirtatious grin, pulling out the chair next to him. The girls joined the table and leaned in, and Finn’s smile turned rueful. Of course. He didn’t know what he had been expecting from this reunion exactly, but as he watched Logan flirting shamelessly from where stood, he realized that he had been hoping they felt what he felt when they first met. That they had experienced the same sparks. Now, as reality came crashing down around him in the form of two beautiful girls, he recognized how ridiculous those hopes had been. They were NHL players for fuck’s sake. He was an idiot for thinking either one of them could have been anything more than a friend. He gave them one last look and changed his trajectory to the washroom instead.

---

Leo

Leo was worried. He had noticed something was up with Logan as soon as he saw him outside the Burrow earlier that evening. He had been distracted; his eyes distant. By the time they had sat down inside, he was completely in his own head, and the tension in his body was visible.  Leo had wanted to ask him about it, but after seeing the panic that flashed across his features when he made a move to do so, he had decided it was best to leave it alone for the time being. Give Logan the chance to bring it up himself.

But now Logan was flirting, openly and brazenly, with this random girl who had recognized him from the Lions, and Leo couldn’t leave it alone anymore.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to seeing Logan flirt — Logan was gorgeous, girls were constantly coming up to him at bars. But he didn’t usually encourage them this boldly. At least not when he was sober, and never if they recognized who he was. They had had more than one lecture from Coach Weasley about power dynamics and taking advantage of people who looked up to them, and Logan took them seriously. This wasn’t like him.  

After politely cutting off the conversation he had been trying to hold with the girl now seated beside him, Leo cleared his throat and spoke loudly enough for Logan to hear.

“Hey Tremzy, I think it’s time to go grab that snack.” He sent a bright smile to the girls. “It was really nice to meet you both. I’m glad to hear you’re fans of the team. Maybe we’ll see you at a game sometime.”

He kept that fake smile plastered on his face as he pushed his chair back from the table, catching Logan looking up at him with annoyance clear in his expression. Leo raised an eyebrow and prayed he would go along with him. He didn’t know what was going on with Logan, but what he was doing here was not okay, and it needed to stop.

Logan held his gaze for a moment before he huffed out a breath through his nose, his expression softening as he nodded. The tension he had built up since walking into the coffee shop seemed to bleed out of him as his shoulders dropped. He turned to the now confused looking girl beside him and gave her the same line Leo had used, shaking her hand and standing to follow Leo to the bar.

Leo waited until they were out of earshot before stopping and turning to Logan.

“You want to tell me what that was about?”

Logan sighed in response, pulling his hat off his head and running a hand through his hair before replacing it. “I don’t know. I wasn’t going to take it farther than that, I swear, I just…” He looked down at his shoes. “Look, I’m sorry. Can we just forget about it?”

Leo just watched him, waiting patiently until Logan’s eyes met his again. He reached out and rested a steady hand on his shoulder.

“Are you ok, Tremz? You seem… out of it, tonight.”

“What? No. I’m fine. Really. Just tired.” Logan tried his best to look it, but Leo saw right through him. He had spent the better part of the past year trying to pretend to himself that he didn’t want to learn everything there was to know about the beautiful man in front of him. He had failed, miserably. He knew Logan, and he knew something was still bothering him.

He briefly debated whether or not to push it this time, but even though Logan was clearly not yet fine, getting called out seemed to have helped. He did seem more like himself than he had five minutes earlier. So Leo settled on trying to cheer him up instead, resolving to follow up later when they weren’t in public.

“Alright,” he nodded at Logan, letting him have his excuse, “but you know I’m always here if you need me.”

Then he switched to a teasing voice. “You want me to order you another disgusting excuse for a coffee? Maybe that’ll wake you up.”

Logan let out a small laugh at that, and his smile finally seemed genuine. Leo nudged his shoulder and started moving toward the bar again.

“Come on. Finn’s gonna start any time, and I was serious about the snack. I need cake.”

Leo didn’t need to look back to know that despite the eyeroll he was certain had occurred, Logan would follow him to wherever there were baked goods.

---

Finn

Finn had given himself an excellent pep talk in the washroom, telling himself it was good he had come to his senses about the boys now, while he was alone, instead of embarrassing himself in front of them later. The disappointment he felt was still settled deep in his chest, but he knew himself well enough to be aware that he worked through his feelings best on a stage. And luckily for him, that was where he was currently headed

From the moment he started the show, Finn let himself get lost in the music, feeling his spirits lift back up as he watched the energy of the room rise and fall with his, letting the tempo of the songs he played encourage their dancing or their calm swaying. He had managed to sneak one of his own songs into the set list, and he played it for people for the first time, watching for reactions and not holding back his smile when people seemed to like it. It was a hard one for him to sing, bringing back some not so great memories. He didn’t look for Leo or Logan again, but he knew they were there, and he put in his best effort to make sure they were entertained. By the time he started his final song, his mind was blissfully clear again. Thank god for music.

After wrapping up the show with a grateful thank you to the crowd for their support, Finn started once again looking forward to reconnecting with the two men he suspected would become important to him. He may not be able to get rid of whatever these decidedly non-platonic feelings were, but he was confident he could push them to the side to make room for their friendship.

He had just hopped off the stage – buzzing with post-show energy, sweaty, and looking for water – when a familiar French-Canadian accent sounded from behind him. “Ok, you win. I admit that you are still incredible, even without our help.”

Finn spun around to find a head of dark curls bowing dramatically in front of him, Leo a few steps back with his eyes closed and a hand over his face, as if hiding from Logan’s antics. He threw his arms in the air and grinned at the two of them, genuinely happy to see them. “Guys! You made it!”

That brought a smile out of Leo. “Of course we did,” he laughed as he and Logan both moved in to give him congratulatory high fives, “your show was incredible, by the way. These people really liked you.”

Finn smiled sincerely at that. “Thanks, Leo.”

Leo handed him a bottle of water. “Also, we thought you might want this. You were looking kind of sweaty.”

“Oh my god, you absolute gem of a human,” Finn moaned as he cracked open the bottle, “I was just about to go hunt one of these down.”

Logan watched with an amused smile as he downed the whole thing in one go. “Glad to be of service.”

Finn wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shot them both a grateful look “So much better. Thank you, guys.”

He looked back toward the mess he still had to pack up from the stage. “I need like twenty minutes or so to get this all cleaned up, then did you guys still want to head down to the bar?”

The three of them had previously planned to head out to a place down the street after Finn’s set, and Finn was looking forward to releasing some of the evening’s adrenaline on a dance floor.

“Ya, for sure.” Leo responded, eyes flicking up to the stage. “Is there anything we can help you with?”

“Nope! Cleaning up is a lot easier than setting up. You guys go enjoy yourselves, I’ll be done here quick.”

Leo and Logan looked at one another, and Logan looked like he was about to object, so Finn started shooing them away. “Go!” He encouraged them, waving his hands to guide them back toward the tables. He wanted them to enjoy themselves, not be stuck helping him clean. “It’s fine, I do this all the time, I have a system, I promise. Get a nice drink and relax.”

Logan put his arms up in surrender, green eyes sparkling with laughter as he watched Finn flap. “D’accord, ok, we will go. Put your crazy hands away. Just let us know if we can help, ok?”

Finn agreed, and then watched them head back over to the bar with a smile on his face. He was surprised, he thought to himself as he started looping up cables, at how the interaction left him feeling. He had expected to be a little nervous and awkward, especially after the way the evening began for him, but instead he found himself immediately feeling the sort of comfortable ease that usually comes from being around people you’ve known your entire life. It was like they belonged together.

As friends, he reminded himself. Only as friends. He could totally do this.  

---

Logan

Logan leaned against the bar, playing with the strings of his hoodie as Leo once again ordered drinks for them. He was feeling much better now, the knot that had taken up residence in his stomach earlier that evening finally gone. There had been something calming about watching Finn move across the stage, singing familiar covers with an energy that was uniquely his own. He had poured himself into it, connecting to the songs in a way that drew the audience, including Logan, along with his every move. It had been fascinating, seeing that version of Finn. His grin was still mischievous, his movements still wild, but he was also… purposeful. Less dorky on stage than he had been on the dance floor. Logan had been mesmerized. Sitting there next to Leo’s steady, grounding presence, letting Finn’s charisma pull him out of his own head, Logan had slowly unwound. By the time Finn had finished his final song, something unfamiliar that Logan had made a note to download later, he felt much more like himself.

“Hey, Nut,” he nudged Leo’s arm, “ask them what Finn likes. We should get him something for when he’s done.”

Leo looked over as the barista dropped three drinks on the counter in front of him, a stray curl falling in his eyes. “Already on it, Tremz.”

Logan ignored the way he wanted to reach out and push that curl back, and looked down at the drinks, surprised. “Oh shit. You’re fast.”

“Yes, Logan. That’s what happens when you don’t run through the entire list of drinks and their ingredients before you order.” Leo responded drily, standing as he wrapped his long fingers around two of the beverages in front of him.

“Well, how else are you supposed to know which one is going to taste the best?” Logan picked up the third cup, his own iced coffee, and sucked at the straw happily.

Leo huffed out an affectionate laugh. “You get the same thing every time anyway! Why does it matter?”

Logan shrugged as they headed back to their table. “I switch up the flavours sometimes. It’s not my fault nobody’s come up with anything better yet.”

They were still bickering about the pros and cons of knowing every component of your iced coffee when Finn pulled out the chair next to Leo and flopped into it with a grin. “Hey guys! Thanks for waiting.”

Logan looked over at him, definitely not noticing the way the warm lighting brought out the freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose. “Finn!” He cried, pointing at the redhead. “We have a drink for you, but first you have to pick my side in battle.”

Leo’s jaw dropped, affronted. “Logan! You can’t bribe your way to a win!”

“Watch me.”

Finn looked between them, amusement spreading across his face. “Hmm. Well, I don’t know what this battle is, but before I decide whether to help Logan cheat his way to victory, I need to know if the drink is worth it. What’s in it?”

There was a startling flurry of movement as Leo groaned loudly, dropping his face into his hands, and Logan jumped up from his chair with his fists in the air, letting out a victorious cheer. “Aye!! Right answer Finn!” He high fived the redhead and sat back down, feeling triumphant.

Finn laughed, looking startled and confused but accepting his drink from Leo’s outstretched hand anyway. He took a sip as the taller boy fold his arms on the table, dropping his head to hide inside of them.

“Hey! This is my drink. How did you know?”

“We asked the barista,” Leo’s muffled, grumpy, voice came from where his face was still buried in his arms. “She knew.”

“Chin up buttercup!” Logan crowed, leaning over to ruffle Leo’s blonde curls. “It’s ok to lose sometimes. As long as you’re not me.”

Leo lifted his head, eyes narrowed at Logan. “I am not a buttercup.”

Finn couldn’t help laughing at his disgruntled face. “Do you prefer daffodil?” Leo turned the withering glare his way. Finn tried again. “Marigold?”  

Leo just dropped his head again.

“Meh, I’ll call that a win. Marigold it is.”

Logan chuckled, deciding it was time to offer up an explanation for the scene Finn had walked into. “Leo doesn’t think it’s important to ask what’s in a drink before you order it. We were discussing why he’s wrong.”

Leo’s head shot back up as he glared at Logan again. “That is NOT what—” He stopped himself, sighing and closing his eyes as Logan just looked at him, face gloating. “You know what. No.” He opened his eyes again and raised his hands in surrender. “It’s fine. I accept my defeat.”

“Good man.” Finn clapped him on the shoulder. “Way to be the bigger person.”

“Thank you, Finn.” Leo smiled at the other man before turning to Logan. His intimidatingly blank goalie face slid perfectly into place as he looked Logan dead in the eyes. “I will get you back for this.”

Logan, used to Leo using this tactic to try and throw him off on the ice, simply met his gaze and grinned back cockily, straw between his teeth. “I look forward to you trying.”

“So,” Finn jumped in, changing the subject, “did you actually like the show?”

Leo turned to him, a genuine smile returning to his face. “We did! You didn’t tell us you wrote original music.”

“Is that what that song was? The last one?” Logan asked, surprised.

“Oh, ya. I don’t always play my own stuff at shows like the one we had in Montreal, but I can usually get away with sneaking a couple in at places like this. It’s part of why I like playing here so much.”

“I really liked it,” Logan complimented Finn, watching a red flush creep across his cheekbones again, “I was actually going to ask you what it was so I could download it. It reminded me of when I first moved to Gryffindor.”

Finn looked at him with an unreadable look on his face. “Seriously?”

Logan nodded, worried that he had said the wrong thing.

“That’s… I wrote that song about Gryffindor. About what it was like when I first moved here and didn’t know anybody. Before I made friends, before I discovered this place.”

“You really captured it.” Leo said softly.

Finn looked flustered, his calloused fingers rubbing the back of his neck in a way that made Logan want to take their place.

Leo, ever intuitive, noticed Finn’s discomfort and changed the subject, “You mentioned you were in grad school, are you studying music?”

“Nope! English Lit.” Finn looked relieved for the new topic, his features brightening. “But I did double major with music in undergrad.”

Logan sat back, content as he listened to the boys across from him talk, first about music and Finn’s connection to the Burrow, then about hockey, chiming in from time to time with questions or stories of his own as they moved smoothly between subjects. The time flew by as they chatted animatedly, and by the time Logan thought to check his watch, it was close to 1 am.

Surprised, he looked up at the room around them and realized it was nearly empty. He hadn’t even noticed people leaving. One of the baristas was sweeping the floor. He waited for Finn to finish a story about the time he had accidentally adopted his neighbours pet (“I helped her look for her cat for almost two weeks before I realized it was the one I had been feeding every night. Embarrassing does not begin to explain.”) to point it out to them.

“Uh, guys, I think we’re about to be kicked out.”

Leo and Finn both looked startled, turning to look around the room the same way he had, and Logan realized he wasn’t the only one oblivious to what had been going on outside of their bubble. The thought made him feel strangely happy.

Finn looked back at Logan, surprised. “Huh. I had no idea. What time is it?”

“Almost one. I know, I didn’t realize either.”

Leo checked his watch. “So it is.” The corners of his mouth turned down a bit, “I guess we aren’t going to the bar then. Sorry guys, I should have been paying attention”

Logan shook his head and reached over to nudge Leo’s shoulder. “Not your fault, Nut, none of us were paying attention.”

“Plus,” Finn added cheerfully, “now we get to add ‘closing down a coffee shop’ to our list of accomplishments as a trio. We already had the bar checked off, so no loss.”

Leo met Logan’s gaze across the table, blue eyes twinkling. “We’ve started a list?”

“Yes.” Finn stated, his voice confident. “We have. Which means we now need to make a plan to cross off the next item on it.”

“Okay,” Logan conceded, leaning his elbows on the table, fingers steepled, “I’ll bite. What’s next on the list?”

Finn looked at him, aghast. “Logan. That is not how the list works. The list is clearly unlabeled. We must first have the adventure, and then name it.”

Logan regarded him for a long moment. He had to give him credit, Finn could hold a straight face when he wanted to. But eventually, a twitch from the corner of his mouth gave him away and Logan dropped his arms and leaned back in his chair, laughing. “You are full of shit.”

Finn grinned in return, all hints of seriousness disappearing as he stood to grab his coat. “Maybe. But either way, we should get together again soon.”

“For sure, drop your schedule in the group chat. I’d love to see you play again, and I’m sure Logan would too.” Leo said as he led them to the door.

Finn’s face lit up at that, and Logan smiled softly at how adorable it was. He felt light and happy as they said their goodbyes, and when he saw Finn’s schedule dropped into their group chat on his cab ride home, he found himself already looking forward to when the three of them could do this again.

[slippinmickeys]

The Post

From a Tumblr anonymous prompt: “ Prompt for AU where Mulder is an investigative reporter and Scully is a Pathologist. They bicker and work together to get to the bottom of mysterious deaths and fall in love along the way. Scully is engaged to Ethan, Mulder's competition, but she is not happy or aware that he is cheating on her. Bonus points for angst, fluff, and smut.“

1.

“You can’t tell anyone I gave this to you,” she said, and he had a sudden almost-psychic sexual flash of his cock splitting the soft autumn fur at her center. Of her head thrown back, her sharp little incisors gnashing at the air.

He shook his head to clear it of the indecorus fantasy.

“The Post protects its sources, Dr. Scully,” he said, and took the envelope from her, his fingers brushing the skin of her hand as he did so. He was certain he saw the soft hairs of her wrist turn to goose flesh.

She turned her head away, offering him her profile, a soft rise of color high on her cheekbone.

“Ethan Minette is my fiancé, Mr. Mulder,” she said quietly, not meeting his eye.

He nearly staggered back, the past six weeks running like a movie montage on hyper speed through his mind. Minette—on the City Desk at the Times—handing cash under the table to a beat cop on K Street; the Trojan horse on Mulder’s computer, his own scoop running in the Times an hour before the Post went to press; Minette’s hand sliding down the hip of a White House aide before disappearing with her into the coat check room at The Palm.

“I assure you,” he said, scuffing the leather bottom of his shoe on the cold floor of the morgue, “not a whiff. No one will be able to trace this information back to you.”

“Thank you,” she smiled shyly, ducking her head, a lock of copper hair pulling loose from her ponytail to whisp along the delicate line of her jaw. He had to resist the urge to finger it softly back behind the shell of her ear.

Instead he raised the envelope to his temple in a salute, nodded at her and moved toward the door of the autopsy room. He turned back to her when he was within its frame, and she looked up to meet his eye, the glacial blue of her own piercing something deep inside of him.

“It was nice to officially meet you,” he said, and she smiled again.

“Oh, nothing about this was official,” she said, and he huffed a laugh and stepped away, the metal door sucking shut behind him.

2.

He was waiting outside the morgue door when she walked out, paying no attention to her surroundings, her head making a mental list of groceries she needed to pick up on the way home. She was so startled that she had her fist around her pepper spray before she recognized him, holding up a staying hand under the orange soda glow of the street lights, his eyes all apology.

The morgue door had only clicked shut when she heaved a relieved sigh.

"Oh," she said, "it's you." The night was cold and dark around them. It was February; the ugliest time of year in DC.

He smiled at her in the half light and it took her a moment to notice that he was holding out a newspaper toward her in his other hand, the thick stack flopping down as he lifted his arm so that she could read the headline: EVIDENCE SHOWS MASSIVE COVERUP, it read, and she snatched it out of his grip.

"You went to print?!" she asked excitedly. It had been weeks since she’d tipped him off. He nodded.

"Hot off the presses," he said.

She skimmed the article under his byline, reading as fast as she could.

"God, I hope this takes them down," she muttered, still reading, "I hate dirty cops." Her pulse was thrumming.

"It will," he said with confidence, and then shifted a bit on his feet. "Though... it may take your fiancé down with them."

She steeled herself. She'd suspected this was coming since before she'd called Fox Mulder's extension at the Post. So it was true, then. Ethan was in on it. All for a fucking story.

"So be it," she said, and his eyes softened.

"You okay?" he asked. His breath wafted above their heads in a white vapor and something about the softness of his eyes and the wet glint of his generous lower lip made her forget her nerves.

"Yeah," she breathed. "Can I... buy you a drink to celebrate?"

He appeared as surprised as she was by her invitation.

"I know a great place," he said, delighted.

3.

They burst through his door connected at the lips, her hands running over his shoulders to cleave off his suit coat and he stumbled backwards over it as it hit the floor. His blood was singing on a high of lust and gin and the exquisite poetry of her; the Roman cut of her nose, the amber glint of her hair, the way her teeth caught on her s’s.

The slam of the door behind them brought her up short. She pulled back as if surprised to find herself in his apartment, though she'd been the one who'd leaned into his ear at the bar and hissed "take me back to your place," her breath smelling of whiskey and lipstick. She'd been all hands and lips and teeth in the cab.

"You okay?" he asked for the second time that night, out of breath, practically panting, the front of his pants tight.

"I'm--" she started, "I never do this. I'm sorry, I -- I never do this."

"Hey," he said gently, "we don't have to -- I don't expect -- do you want to sit down?"

She nodded, looking shocky, and he led her over to his couch and then slipped into his kitchen, checking every cup and mug in his sparse cabinets until he found one that looked perfectly clean. He pressed the glass into her hands, the ice clicking gently into the sides. He sat on the floor next to the couch to give her space, crossed his legs and tried not to think of his aching cock.

"Ethan is --" she began, "we've been together since high school." She was talking to her lap, half the water chugged before he even sat down. Her blouse was still untucked from when he’d pulled it out of her pants to run a hand over her silk-clad breast in the cab and she was fingering the gold engagement ring on her left hand-- it was an antique-looking thing, something he couldn't see her liking, though he admittedly barely knew her at all.

He nodded at her, wanting to reach a hand out, but opting to rest his arm along the edge of the sofa instead.

"He's cheating on me," she said, a statement. Mulder knew it to be true, but it seemed too self-serving to say anything confirming it, and so he stayed mum. “But we’ve been together so long, and I didn’t want to believe it. And now that I know he’s in on this…” He reached out and touched her knee lightly, and her eyes sharpened. “Tell me something about yourself,” she went on, her voice dropping an octave, “something that no one else knows.”

And so he told her about his sister. About his years-long search for the truth. They talked and talked as she slowly melted into the sofa, her legs stretched out and almost touching him, her head propped up on her elbow.

Finally, she blinked slowly down at him.

“I still feel kind of drunk,” she said, and then yawned.

“Take my bed,” he said, rising to quickly change the sheets. “The bathroom is just over there,” he nodded toward a door. “There’s a new toothbrush in the medicine cabinet.” He disappeared into the bedroom before she could decline.

She walked through his bedroom doorway on silent feet just as he was shoving the last pillow into a fresh pillowcase. He hugged it to his chest and made his way to the door, smiling at her shyly as he passed. She grabbed his arm gently and he paused, looked down into her sharp starlet eyes. She smelled of toothpaste and faded perfume. Her face had been scrubbed clean.

“Thank you, Mulder,” she said, and let go, her touch practically burning his skin.

4.

She called him three weeks later at work, asked him to meet her for lunch. They sat in the cavernous Les Halles in the District, at a middle table where Mulder kept getting bumped by people making their way to the restroom. The air was filled with the clatter of silverware on plates, a constant murmur of business talk, the expediter calling orders in the kitchen. She wanted to apologize to him.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said, before the words were even halfway out of her mouth. “If anyone should apologize, it should be me.”

He reached out a hand and brushed his fingers lightly over the back of her left hand. He noticed her ring finger was bare and stopped short.

“I was in a relationship and — even though I knew it was over, I should have never -- I stuck my tongue down your throat before you finished your second drink,” she said, blushing, but with a smile.

“Say what you will about the former,” he said, reaching for his sweating water glass, “but don’t you dare apologize for the latter.”

She leaned back in her chair and signaled for the waiter. As the man walked away with their orders, Scully leaned forward, her elbows on the table, fingers laced over her plate.

“Detective Cho came to our apartment as Ethan was packing up his things last week,” she said, attempting to keep a cheeky smile from her lips. Mulder’s eyebrows rose to his hairline, though he wasn’t sure which part of her statement surprised him most. “The DA was with her,” she went on, finally cracking a grin.

“You think Ethan will cop a plea?” Mulder asked excitedly, half his brain already on the phone to Skinner, his editor, the other half already writing the story.

“Take out your notebook, and I’ll tell you everything,” she said.

5.

Mulder was on the steps of the courthouse eating a street hot dog when she came clicking down them in her best pumps. She’d been called as a witness in many cases in her life, but never before one in which one of the accused was somebody she had once loved.

She still felt shaky and overdrawn, but just the sight of his sable hair, his strong profile against the sidewalk, settled her nerves.

They hadn’t seen each other in months, but had taken to talking on the phone in the late evening, initially about the story and the case, eventually dropping any pretense and talking just to hear each other’s voice. It had gotten to the point where if she didn’t hear his low timbre each night before bed, she’d have trouble sleeping.

He turned when he sensed her and stood when he saw her, his face blossoming into a pleased smile.

She stopped two steps above him, which made them the same height. His eyes looked mossy in the sun, his lashes long sweeps along his skin.

“The courtroom smells like a Pulitzer,” she said, “I’m surprised you’re not in there.”

He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his overcoat and shrugged.

“And miss a day like this?” he said, the sun glinting off his hair as off a robin’s wing.

“You know, I really thought a sharp wit like you would come in with a line like ‘the real prize is out here,’ but I guess I lobbed the softball a little low,” she teased.

He smiled, shrugged again.

“What can I say?” he said, “I like the high ones.”

He had a smudge of mustard on the edge of his mouth, and she reached out and wiped it slowly off of him with her thumb, the scrape of his five o’clock shadow rasping.

She had a sudden almost-psychic sexual flash of his lush mouth opening wetly over the rise of her mons, of his long, warm hands running slowly up the back of her thigh, could practically feel his low, satisfied moan flushing up her skin.

She blinked away the fantasy but held it in her mind, smiled and reached for his arm, coming down the steps until she was even with him and he turned to walk with her.

“So it’s done then,” he said, finally pulling his hands from the depths of his coat pockets and reaching out until his hand was resting on the small of her back. “Can I buy you a drink to celebrate?”

She smiled into the sunshine and leaned into his touch.