#and it's not like we can do anything back its even illegal to restrain them

[babymetaldoll]

Baby, I'm yours - Chapter three: "To die by your side"

Summary: The team is doing its best to find Emily. Spencer is struggling with the fear of losing his friend and the thought of not being enough to keep his girlfriend safe.

Word count: 11,5K

Warnings: Lots of angst, Criminal Mind classic and painful canon, smut, mention of drug addiction and drug use.

'A/N: Hey guys!! Thank you for reading! And sorry for the angst! Tumblr didn't show last week's chapter in the tags 😔 I don't know why. Remember feedback is more than welcome if you are enjoying this story: Like, reblog and comment if you can.

Next update: February 1st

Series Masterlist | General Masterlist | Prequel Masterlist

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(Y/N)’s point of view

I was having an awful flashback. I was again outside Tobias Hankel’s house and Morgan was telling me Spencer was nowhere to be seen. It was the same feeling of fear and panic that didn’t let me think straight all those years ago, and that ended up making me yell at JJ.

The fear of losing someone you love can be the fuel you need to bring them back or a paralyzing energy that restrains each and every one of your thoughts and movements. At that minute, it was the second.

I walked to Penelope’s office to tell her we were ready to take off to Boston and didn’t even knock on the door. She was talking on the phone with someone, and soon I realized she was leaving voicemails in every phone number that had ever belonged to Prentiss.

- “Hey, it's me. Hotch asked me to try all your numbers, and I have this as an old listing, and you probably don't even use it anymore, but if it is you and you're out there, come home, please. God, Emily, what did you think, that we would just let you walk out of our lives? I am so furious at you right now! Then I think about how scared you must be, how you're in some dark place all alone. But you're not alone, ok? You are not alone. We are in that dark place with you. We are waving flashlights and calling your name. So if you can see us, come home. If you can't, then..”- I rested my head on her shoulder as I heard her sobbing- “Then you stay alive. 'Cause, we're coming!”

- “We love you, Emily! We are your family”- I added and broke into tears as well. Garcia hugged me and we cried for a few minutes. I needed to let it all out before I put on my BAU profiler mask and hid every feeling I had.

- “We are gonna bring her home, and we are gonna get so wasted!”- I whispered and chuckled between sobs

- “Oh, we are gonna get so drunk after this!”- Garcia agreed and wiped off her tears- “Let’s save our friend, munchkin.”

We were on a plane to Boston. Emily had been captured by Doyle, Garcia had shown us the footage and for a second, we all thought the worst. Also, the police had detained Clyde Easter in that city and we needed to talk to him as soon as possible. He had to give us some more info about Doyle and his relationship with Prentiss. Anything that could help us find them.

- “Emily walked into a trap. It looks like Doyle got into the SUV, but from this angle, you can see that he didn't. Which I wished Boston PD would have told me before I started watching it. Sorry again for the screaming.”

Penelope showed us again the footage of the incident, and we analyzed it frame by frame.

- “She threw a flash-bang grenade into a car. She's lucky the 3 people inside didn't die. Is anybody else bothered by that?”- Morgan was clearly upset, he had been angry for the last 10 hours, after Prentiss’ disappearance. I had been upset when we discovered she had slept with Doyle, but at that point, I just wanted to bring my friend safe. I didn’t care what she had done.

- “Well, three bad guys.”- Rossi gave him a sarcastic remark and shook his head.

- “Illegal as it is, I think Prentiss knows she has to be as ruthless as Doyle.”- Hotch pointed out and I nodded in support as I sipped my tea.

- “He's come to the US to wage a public vendetta and hired a group of mercenaries to remain loyal to him. He has nothing to lose, so she has to act the same way.”- Reid added with a voice that showed how deeply concerned he was. I wanted to hold his hands the entire time to show him I was there with him, but I knew I couldn’t at the time.

- “So how did Doyle know she was waiting for him?”- Rossi asked and JJ answered.

- “ Well, the mole must have told him, right? The same guy who's been feeding Doyle the contractors and agents?”

- “And our best suspect was just arrested with a suitcase full of cash. How do we get Easter to talk? He won't cooperate willingly.”- Seaver questioned and I knew Hoth was going to handle the asshole himself.

- “I'll handle that. The rest of you focus on Doyle's location.”

- “I hate to be the one to ask this, but how long does Emily have?”- Garcia’s question was in fact the same we all shared, but no one had spoken about it in fear of the truth. Hotch’s voice was soft and kind as he explained the situation in the most positive way possible.

- “Her best chance is also the most troubling. Doyle saved her for last because he views her as his stressor. Which means he'll take his time.”

We all looked down and stayed in silence for most of what was left of the trip.

The Boston police station felt like a prison. I wanted to get out of there and find Emily. I knew walking around with no clue and no idea of what was happening would be useless, but waiting felt like torture. I just hoped Em wasn’t going through torture herself.

- “Get your hands off me! Do you know who I am? I'm the man!”- Hotch and I turned to see the man walking in cuffs to the station.

- “Who's that?”- I asked Rossi, who joined us with more info

- “Jack Fahey, Irish mob. He called Easter's cell phone 12 times in 6 hours.”

- “Any connection to Doyle?”- Hotch looked at Rossi as he waited for an affirmative answer.

- “Boston PD says he's low-level. But the Irish mob has long-standing ties to the IRA”- Rossi explained.

- “You two and Reid, see if you can get anything out of him.”- Hotch said and the three of us nodded before we started walking away.

I had questioned witnesses and suspects many times with Reid before. But never as a couple. I had wondered how that would be, but under those circumstances, I didn’t have much patience to play any kind of game.

- “Why were you calling Clyde Easter so much, Jack?”- Rossi asked right away, as we stood in front of Fahey, but he decided to ignore him.

- “Anybody got a smoke? How about you sweetheart?”- I raised an eyebrow and crossed my arms on my chest, not saying a word back to him- “How about you, beanpole?”

- “What do you think?”- I asked my boyfriend as he made eye contact with Fahey and whispered his answer, making sure the suspect could hear us.

- “Narcissism masking deep-seated insecurity.”- Rossi and I nodded at his description.

- “So if we puncture his self-image, this hood rat will talk.”- David added, just to toy with him.

- “Hey, hey, hey, I ain't no hood rat. You take that back.”- Fahey freaked out immediately, as predicted.

- “Well, you look like one. You smell like one. You smell that?”- Rossi walked to Fahey as he spoke, and Spencer and I sniffed and answered at the same time.

- “Hood rat.”

- “I am not! Take it back!”- Fahey looked funny when he was mad, I give him that.

- “Hey, Jack. Do you know what a hood rat is?”- I walked over and stared at the suspect right in the eyes. He couldn't even answer my question, so I looked at Spencer and shook my head- “You see what I mean? He's just gonna have to learn the hard way.”

- “All right, all right, look, Clyde was gonna pay my medical bills, all right? This ear, it ain't growing back.”

- “What happened to it?”- Reid crossed his arms on his chest and looked at him with a severe glance.

- “This bitch teammate of his shot it. Said it was a warning. Thought she could take on this IRA big shit named Doyle. So I told these...!”- but the poor bastard couldn’t keep talking ‘cos Rosi kinda lost it. He squeezed his shot ear, making him cry and twist in pain on his chair. Blood came from the wound through the patch and soaked Rossi’s hand.

- “What the hell, man?! Jeez!”

- “Where's Prentiss?”- I shouted and hit the table, trying to get his attention.

- “Who? I don't know!”

- “Lauren Reynolds. Where is Lauren Reynolds?”- Spencer asked with the same urgency and somehow Fahey chuckled through the pain.

- “Oh. Friend of yours, is she?”- suddenly I realized we had lost our upper hand with him. And all just because of our feelings for Prentiss.

- “You tell us where she is right now, or I swear, I'll send you to a prison where they'll teach you what a hood rat is.”- Rossi threatened him, but it was too late, the bastard just chuckled.

- “And by the time you do, she'll be in pieces. So, uh... my price just went up.”

If he hadn’t been our only lead, I would have killed him right there and no one would have missed him. But we needed whichever piece of information the bastard could give us.

- “200,000?”- Seaver asked underneath, pretty shocked as we all stood at a side of the station. Fahey was sitting a few feet from us, waiting for our resolution.

- “What other leverage do we have?”- Hotch asked.

- “I just wanna beat the shit out of him until he speaks”- I confessed and sighed- “But I know it won’t take us very far, and there is not enough time.”

- “Is he an addict?”- Seaver asked, taking a second look at him.

- “He's having a nicotine fit. We wouldn't let him smoke.”- I explained and even cut her an evil grin.

- “We could use that. He’d relax, open his big mouth.”- Seaver suggested, and surprisingly it wasn’t a bad idea.

- “Is that enough?”- Hotch questioned and she cut him her sweetest smile.

- “Well, I'm pretty good with narcissists.”

- “Please don’t tell me, your dad was a serial killer and you know everything about narcissists”- the words slipped my lips, I couldn’t help it and I knew Hotch was gonna make me pay for it.

- “Well, I also dated a few.”- she answered and I sighed. We were going to go through Seaver’s plan. God help me.

For security reasons, we took Fahey to the rooftop. Hotch thought having two girls would help him feel more relaxed and so it was just me and Seaver with him. Well, if you ignore all the officials waiting for us at the door, including Spencer who insisted on keeping a close eye on what was happening.

- “You know when a cigarette is best? After sex with me.”- that bastard joked as he took a long drag of his cigarette, winking at Ashley.

- “Mind your manners, asshole.”- I commanded and kept my serious look on him. Clearly, I was the bad cop in that situation- “You're already extorting us for Prentiss’ location.”

- “So, just out of curiosity, what's it like working for Doyle?”- Seaver asked with a sweet tone of voice.

- “Eh, he's not so tough.”

- “Wow. I bet you're his hookup, aren't you? I mean, after all, you're the man.”

- “I could show you how much of a man I really am.”- I clenched my knuckles and took a step closer to Fahey, ready to smack those dirty answers out of him. But he raised his arms and took a step back.

- “All right, all right, all right, jeez. What's with the sexy good /sexy bad cop routine? What do you two think…”- a shot came from a window nearby, all of a sudden.

- “Down!”- I quickly wrapped my arms around Seaver and the two of us kneeled down as we heard a second gunshot and our only lead dropped dead right in front of us. Seaver started shaking, Fahey’s blood damping her white sweater. I kept my arms around her for a few more seconds, trying to comfort her as the police force surrounded us, working to find the killer.

- “Are you ok?”- I whispered and she just nodded.

- “(Y/N)!! (Y/N)!!”- Spencer showed up running and cupped my face in his hands- “Are you ok? are you hurt?”- I just shook my head and looked into his teary eyes, feeling like the most loved human on earth.

- “I’m ok, it’s ok honey. They got Fahey, we are ok. Right, Ashley?”- I rubbed my hand on her back and she nodded.

- “Yeah, but now we are back to square one”- she whispered, still shaky.

- “Come on”- Spencer helped us stand up and quickly walked us in.- “It’s not safe out here.”

After Spencer made sure I was safe, his fear of losing me (or any other member of the team under those circumstances) hitting hard for a moment, I grabbed a clean shirt from my go bag and walked to find Seaver. The poor kid was trying to wipe off the blood from her sweater with a napkin. It was sad. I knew without Prentiss, she didn’t have anyone close inside the team but Rossi. And I also knew it wouldn’t kill me to be nice to her for once.

- “That's not going to come out.”- I announced as I walked toward her.

- “Yeah, I know.”- I gave her my shirt and she looked at it in shock for a moment. Yeah, apparently it was that hard to believe that I could be nice and human with her- “Thanks.”

- “It’s ok. Actually, I needed to talk to you”

- “About…”- I don’t know what she wanted to say ‘cos I started talking before she could finish her idea.

- “Ashley, we have a problem. Without Fahey, there's not much left. We all want to save Prentiss so badly that we can't see this case straight.”

- “Ok. What do we do?”

- “Something that terrifies me: we depend on the team member with the freshest eyes.”- Seaver looked at me in shock and shook her head, honestly scared to carry such a burden on herself.

- “Oh, no. Not me, no.”

- “Believe me, this hurts me too. But the truth is you haven't worked with Prentiss for five years. You're unprejudiced.”- I sat next to her and maintained eye contact the entire time. I didn’t mean to make her nervous, I just needed her to focus.

- “Now, what's been bugging you since we left Quantico? How about the affair? That bugs me, you saw me, I yelled when I found out what had happened. Now tell me, how does the two of them sleeping together change Doyle's profile?”

- “I don't know.”- she mumbled, frustrated

- “Come on, Ashley. It's textbook!!”- I raised my voice ‘cos though I was trying to be nice at her, I was also aware we were running out of time to find Prentiss safe.

- “I haven't read every textbook! You always complain about that!!”- Ashley yelled back at me, so I moved closer to her and ket pushing her.

- “You want me to hold your hand? Fine! See? I'm holding your hand and giving you all my moral support. Now tell me, honestly: What doesn't fit? Just say it! What are you thinking? Spit it out!”

- “Why families?!”- she finally shouted and I nodded, excited pushing her had actually worked.

- “Keep going.”

- “Prentiss is Doyle's stressor. He wants revenge on the woman who betrayed him, and I understand that. But why kill that child in D. C.?”

- “Finally! You just gave me a reason to love the fact you are on the team.”- I hugged her and she widened her eyes- “Now throw away that awful sweater, put on the clean shirt and never wear white to work again, got it?”

Spencer’s point of view

There were too many stressors. Way too many for me to handle properly under that amount of stress. First, Prentiss runs away from us, hiding information from the team. Then, knowing how far she had gone with Doyle, faking a relationship with him and even sleeping with him. I’m not a prude, but even I know that can mess things up in the field. Now how did that change Doyle’s profile and how was he going to act with Emily? We had nothing.

And the fact a sniper had shot Fahey on the police station’s roof and might have killed (Y/N) instead was eating me alive. Of course, I always knew there was a risk in doing what we do for a living. And yes (Y/N) had been shot before (by far, the worst day of my life). But that day, on that rooftop, it affected me on a completely different level. I wanted to protect her no matter what, and I hated feeling I couldn’t do it properly.

I don’t think it had actually hit me until that day, but I wanted to marry her. I wanted to have babies with her. And soon. We had waited so long to confess our feelings I didn’t want to wait another five years to commit. I knew we had been dating for less than a month, but I knew she was my forever. I knew it since the first time I saw her.

But at that minute our job was to bring Prentiss home. Then I could take care of the rest.

Hotch got Prentiss' ex’s unit chief, Clyde Eater, to collaborate with us and the entire team got together to finally make some progress.

- “Ian Doyle's a power-assertive psychopath, highly controlling and very explosive when something doesn't go as planned.”- Clyde explained. We knew he was a psychopath and a serial killer. But his M.O and all the intel the CIA had on him were extremely useful to profile the bastard. And most important: to know what he was doing with Prentiss.

- “Ok, so how does this fit in with who he is as a family annihilator?”- Seaver asked and (Y/N) added

- “And Prentiss’ role in it.”

- “Annihilators have a romanticized view of who their family is.”- I looked at Clyde, but he shook his head at my words.

- “Well, actually, he was an orphan.”

- “Well, they think of family as their possession, until some law shatters that and starts them killing”- Morgan added.

- “But Doyle was never married.”- Clyde kept dismissing all of our contributions to the profile.

- “Children?”- Rossi asked, but we all guessed it was negative.

- “No.”

- “You run your profile that he carried out his murder with surgical-like precision.”- I continued talking as (Y/N) grabbed the picture of the kid Doyle shot from my hands, trying to find anything on that image that we could use as a clue.

- “Yes.”

- “With no collateral damage.”- Morgan added.

- “That's right.”

- “Perhaps this child was a surrogate for one he had.”- (Y/N) suggested

- “Say Doyle had a child and you didn't know about it. Is it possible that Prentiss did?”- Rossi asked the million-dollar question, and Clayde shook his head.

- “Then why would she keep it from me?”

- “Who else was in the compound the day that you arrested Doyle?”- Hotch asked and looked at the list of names.

- “Just his staff.”

- “All Irish?”- Hotch raised an eyebrow going through the names again, and Clayde nodded.

- “Yeah.”

- “That's a start.”

Thirty two minutes later we had an address and we got ready to rescue our friend. We knew Prentiss discovered Ian Doyle had in fact a son hidden, who had been raised by one of his maids as her own, to keep him from any danger. When the CIA got Doyle, the maid and the boy made it to America, and a year after Doyle’s imprisonment, Prentiss faked their deaths and relocated them, saving their lives from him. We didn’t know how or where. We just knew she made sure she did everything she could to save that kid’s life. Because that is how amazing Prentiss is.

We were on a rescue mission for Emily. The entire team, plus the special forces, got to an empty warehouse. We all walked in, and the first thing I did was to keep (Y/N) close. I couldn't focus on anything if I didn’t know she was close enough for me to save her. Morgan’s words kept spinning in my head: Our only advantage in that mission was stealth. Once Doyle knew we were on site, nothing would stop him from killing Prentiss. Or anyone on his way.

Derek was leading the mission, and after a few minutes of the most nerve-wracking silence, he announced he had Emily.

- “I got her!!”- his voice nearly pierced my ear as he shot into the earpiece- “I got her in the basement on

Southside! I need a medic!”

I stopped in my tracks and grabbed (Y/N)’s arm, who had just started running towards Morgan.

- “We don’t know where Doyle is! Stop! (Y/N)!”- I looked into her teary eyes and felt her struggling to let go.

- “But she is right there, Spencer! She needs us!!”- she begged as we heard Derek’s voice in our earpiece again.

- “Prentiss. Hey, it's me, I'm right here. You're gonna be alright. Stay with me, baby. Come on, stay with me.”- the officials cleared the room as we all continued to move, being extra careful in case Doyle was still in the area. I surely doubted it. He just wanted to hurt Emily and he couldn’t do it with all of us there and all his men down.

- “Clear!”- we heard that word, and (Y/N) ran from my side until she got to Prentiss and Derek the minute the ambulance reached the perimeter. I caught her and held her as we watched the paramedics checking her vitals and quickly moving her into the ambulance and to the nearest hospital.

Honestly, it all happened too quickly and I almost didn’t register it all. The way Prentiss looked when we reached her side, pale, almost dead. How Morgan kept holding her hand and refused to move from her side, getting into the ambulance with her, even against the paramedic’s will. The way (Y/N)’s tears soaked my shirt when I wrapped my arms around her, and how her hands grabbed my arms and nearly hung from me, not letting go until Hotch said we had to go to the hospital.

Everything will be engraved in my memory forever. And I wish I could just forget it all. It was all too much. And it just kept getting worse.

We waited over five hours in that visitor lounge, in the hospital. (Y/N) sat next to me, shaking most of the time, though I gave her my jacket, and wrapped my arm around her to keep her warm, and Rossi kept getting us coffee and snacks from the closest vending machine.

- “She is gonna be ok, right?”- Penelope whispered and waited for our answer. Derek just wrapped an arm around her and kissed her temple. (Y/N) looked at me for a moment, with pleading eyes. She wanted to hear it too, she needed to hear Prentiss was gonna be ok. I cut her a short smile, though my eyes were filled with tears, and snuggled closer to her.

- “Of course, she is gonna be ok”- I whispered to her and she just nodded, resting her head on my shoulder.

I think that’s the first time I knew I was lying to my girlfriend. But I was too scared to tell her I didn’t know. That I just wasn’t sure what was gonna happen. I wanted to be her rock, the man she needed. But I was so scared. Petrified at the thought of losing my friend. Of failing to the team.

We all raised our eyes when we heard footsteps coming over, and JJ walked slowly over us. Her eyes were red and she couldn’t even speak. We all turned to her and waited if she had any update on Prentiss’ condition. But her tears stopped our hearts. (Y/N) held my hand and squeezed it tight. I just opened my mouth, not knowing what to say. It couldn’t be right. There was no way that was actually happening.

- “She never made it off the table”- JJ confirmed and for a moment, time stopped. I refuse to believe what she had said was true. My friend couldn’t be dead. My last conversation with her couldn’t be that random exchange of words. Emily Prentiss couldn’t be dead.

I looked around and watched how all of our friends were breaking apart. Rossi was sobbing, Garcia was in shock. I stood up and tried to run away, though I didn’t really know where I was planning to go. But (Y/N) grabbed my hand and stopped me. I turned to look at her and saw the tears falling down her cheeks as she bit her lips, trying her best to contain her emotions. I knew she hated crying in public, and I also knew she couldn’t really control it at the moment.

- “Hon…”- she whispered and grabbed both my arms, maybe scared I would actually run away from her. But instead of fighting her touch, I melted into it, wrapping my arms around her body and sobbing against the soft skin of her neck.

- “I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye”- I mumbled and felt her arms trying to hold me together. I let my tears run as she hugged me and caressed my back. She was crying too, as well as everybody around us. That couldn’t be happening. Emily couldn’t be dead. That couldn't just be it. We were the good guys, and the good guys always win. We couldn’t lose her, we couldn’t lose Emily.

But we did.

(Y/N) and I held each other the entire flight back home. I don’t really know if we were trying to console one another, or just trying to stay together to keep each other sane. I didn’t follow any of the PDA rules Hotch and Strauss had been nagging us about. I held (Y/N) in my arms the entire trip. I sat her on my lap and wrapped a blanket around her, ‘cos she kept shaking.

No one said a word the entire trip. The only sound around us were grieves and sobs. There was a deep feeling of loss. Not only we had lost Emily, but we all felt lost. It seemed unreal.

(Y/N)’s hands were clinging to my sweater, and every time I moved on the seat, she tightened her grip on me. I kissed her forehead as I snuggled her closer.

- “I’m not going anywhere”- I whispered and slowly leaned it to kiss her hands. She sighed and looked into my eyes with tears.

- “I’m so scared, Spencer.”- she called me by my name as one of her hands let go of my sweater and moved to my cheeks, caressing me- “I don’t wanna lose you too.”

- “You won’t, I swear. I am not going to leave you, and nothing bad will happen to me.”

But the truth is, I was petrified too. And I held her even tighter until we got home, ‘cos I was also scared to lose her. We did everything we could to keep Prentiss safe, but we failed. The same way we failed to protect Elle, and Garcia. We failed to protect Hailey and Jack. We were a failure, the entire BAU. And it scared me to death to think something bad could ever happen to my girl.

We got home that night and just sat on her couch. We talked about having a cup of tea, but neither of us moved. We just sat there, crying and holding each other until the sun came out.

I smelled her shampoo all over me as (Y/N) let her hair loose and for once, it didn’t make me feel better, protected or loved. If anything, it made me more anxious. I just couldn’t stop thinking about how it would feel losing her. And the fear kept crawling down my skin like a disease that spread all over my body.

And there was only one thing I knew had helped me get rid of that fear and pain: Dilaudid.

(Y/N)’s point of view

I stood outside the car and took a deep breath. We were at the cemetery, ready to give Emily her final resting place. It wasn’t right. The last few days had been the closest I had ever been to hell. We had to present our reports on what had happened the day Emily died. Then Hotch gave us the day off to rest and process what had happened. And now we were at a cemetery. No, it made no sense.

I had cried my eyes out in the last 48 hours. Life had changed completely and I felt lost. I refused to admit the fact my friend was gone. That had to be a joke, a very bad one. But I knew we couldn't function as a team without Emily. She was our rock. She was the one who always managed to keep her cool, even during the worst times. She was the one I turned to for advice since she joined the team, ‘cos we both had a rough start with Gideon, and Hotch wasn’t a big fan of women’s work when we first started.

- “Ready?”- Spencer held my hand and took me from my thoughts. I shook my hand and bit my lips, making my best not to cry anymore. I’ve always hated crying in public. He kissed my hand, and his lips lingered on my skin for a second before we started walking to meet the rest of the team.

Penelope was already there, with Morgan. I rested my head on her shoulder not saying a word, as I felt her caressing my hair. We just stood there in silence until Hotch and Rossi walked over. Aaron hugged us all, as I kept fighting the tears back.

- “It’s time.”- that was all he said, and we just nodded.

Spencer kissed my cheek one more time before walking with Morgan, Rossi, and Hotch to hold Prentiss’s coffin and carry it to her grave. Penelope held my hand as we walked behind them, along with JJ and Seaver, carrying some of Prentiss’ favorite flowers. Everybody was there, but I didn’t register much. A priest talked about loss and how we shall overcome it. But it was all a blur. I just remember standing in front of the coffin, fighting the tears, holding Spencer’s hand tight.

JJ walked and left her flowers on the coffin, and Penelope followed slowly. Then Seaver, Rossi, and Morgan. Spencer looked at me and I did my best to walk. But I swear, I felt my knees were going to betray me any minute. My boyfriend held my arm tight and helped me make my way to say my last goodbye. I still don’t know how he had the strength to do it if I knew he was hurting too. But at that minute I knew I was more thankful to have him than ever. I never wanted to lose him.

- “Come on kid, let’s go to my house for a drink”- Rossi whispered after the ceremony was over.

- “No, thank you. I wanna be alone”- I whispered, knowing he wasn’t going to let me go, but still trying to see if he could get I didn’t want to deal with people.

- “Kid, this hit the entire family and it’s time for the family to be together. Come. Both of you can not lock yourself to grieve all alone.”- Rossi was right, I just didn’t know how to deal with everything that was happening with all those people around me.

- “Do you wanna go?”- I asked Spencer, who kept holding my hand, his eyes glued to the ground.

- “It’s gonna be good for all of us”- Rossi added and Reid nodded. I sighed and gave up. I knew it was gonna be worse not attending, and maybe Dave was right and some time with family would be good for all of us.

Of course, spending time with family, under those circumstances, was painfully hard, because though all we wanted was to support each other, all our emotions were on the surface, and I don’t think we knew what to do with them.

We drove in convoy to Rossi’s and when we got there we realized he had prepared a little get-together. He had some food, some wine and a table in his backyard ready for us. Spencer poured a glass of wine for me, grabbed a juice for himself, and stood by my side as the rest of the team gathered around for a toast. I didn’t feel like toasting for Emily. Not that I didn’t want to honor her, but I wanted to do it on my own. I didn’t feel ready to share my feelings with my friends just yet.

- “To Emily”- Rossi raised his glass and his voice broke immediately- “A tuff rock, the smartest woman and one of the best friends we’ve had.”- we all raised our glasses and drank a sip.

- “Emily is my… was my best friend”- Garcia started, but tears stopped her speech. Morgan wrapped an arm around her and kissed her forehead, in support. We weren’t ready for this. The wound was open and bleeding. This was basically just twisting the knife inside the wound.

- “I remember when she first joined the team ‘cos Stauss pushed me to accept her. Erin thought she could use Em to control me and get some info about our work. And instead, she gave us an invaluable team member, and a friend that will live in our hearts forever.”- Hotch’s words started with a light chuckle and ended with tears. I knew he wanted us to remember the good things, but we couldn’t just forget that she was dead, and we would never see her again.

- “I just can’t believe she is gone”- Spencer whispered and I wrapped an arm around him immediately- “I mean, if we can’t protect each other, what can we do? how can we do our work?”

No one could give an answer to that. I know I didn’t have comfort words for Spencer ‘cos I felt broken inside as well. I hugged him tight and felt how he soaked my neck with tears, as he made an effort to cry quietly.

- “I just wish she would have trusted us from the beginning.”- Derek took a sip of his wine and stared at us, fighting the tears- “I mean, we could have helped her! we could have caught Doyle and killed that son of a bitch!”

- “Derek”- Hotch tried to calm him down, but we all had to express our feelings somehow, I guess.

- “Why did she do this alone?! I told her we were there for her! I knew she was hiding something from us! And now she is gone!”

Morgan was angry, and I got it. I had noticed Emily was acting strange but didn’t do anything either. I was too busy being happy with Reid. And in a way, I blamed myself as well.

- “Emily locked us out of her life. She decided she was better on her own.”- JJ argued and Will held her hand, ‘cos it felt as if her words came out harder than she had initially intended.

- “We are all fucking profilers! We all knew there was something going on and we just decided to overlook it!”- I argued and let Spencer go ‘cos I needed a refill of my wine already.

- “Kid, we all feel guilty. Trust me, I hate myself right now and I know there are a lot of things that we could have done to help her. But we didn’t, and it’s done. Regret won’t take us anywhere but feeling even more miserable!”- Rossi raised his voice but didn’t try to lecture me. He followed me to the bar and wrapped an arm around me, pouring me a second glass of wine.

- “But we have each other, ragazza. And we are gonna overcome this together. Trust me.”

My BAU family is so different from my real one. I could get away from my blood relatives, I had a million excuses I had certified were adequate to stay away from them. But I could never get away from my BAU’s kin. They were harder to keep away.

Spencer excused himself and walked to the bathroom for a moment. I looked at him and realized he had been trying to be strong for me, and be my rock. But of course, I knew he needed to process the whole situation his own way. I knew he wasn’t afraid to cry in front of me or anything like it. But he would never want to feel like he was a burden for me. And he would want to process his sorrow alone.

I just hoped this whole thing wouldn’t affect our new relationship. All I actually wanted was to curl into bed with him, hug him and get some rest. It felt like the weight of the world was on our shoulders and there was no escape from it.

- “I didn’t get to know Emily very well”- Seaver started talking and for once, I didn’t really care. I was so sad I didn’t even want to argue with her- “But she was the first to open her arms and give me a chance. Teach me some of the things she knew and just… help me be a better profiler.”

- “My baby was like that”- Garcia whispered, trying her best to stop sobbing- “She would always go an extra mile for someone she knew deserved it.”

- “She also had the better comebacks. I learned so many curse words from her”- I sipped my wine after my words and heard Rossi chuckle.

- “You can’t say she was a bad influence. You two together were an accident waiting to happen.”

- “Remember when she picked up that guy at the bar?”- Garcia looked at me and JJ, and we both knew exactly what she was talking about.

- “What guy?”- Spencer walked over and stood by my side. I turned to him and cut him a shy smile, holding his hands. His fingers were cold and I felt like kissing them, but it felt weird doing that in front of the team.

- “A random asshole that flirted with her at a bar one time when she first joined the team. We had one of our first ladies' nights and she walked to our table with a guy that told her was an FBI agent”- I explained and Garcia shook her head.

- “No, but he was a loser, he was so pathetic. He kept saying everything we asked was “classified.”

- “Worst was when she said “affirmative” instead of yes!”- JJ added and I chuckled.

- “Oh my god! I had totally forgotten about that!”

- “The best part was when she asked him to see his batch and he argued he couldn’t show it ‘cos it was classified”- Garcia smiled at the memory and Rossi looked at us with wide-opened eyes.

- “And what did you guys do?”

- “We asked him if it looked anything like ours, and he turned around and left completely humiliated”- I finished the story with a big grin on my face, thinking that was the kind of thing that happened when Emily was in charge of getting the next round of drinks.

- “I remember when I hit her with my rocket on the head”- Spencer said and smiled as he remembered what happened that day- “And she didn’t even get mad at me, she just asked me to show her how I had done it”

- “And you didn’t, ‘cos a magician never reveals his secrets.”- I turned to my boyfriend and smiled. I remembered that day so well. He looked so cute and concentrated on preparing his tricks.

- “Remember when we asked her to flirt with that lousy guy to get a better profile?”- Morgan added with an evil grin.

- “¡Viper!”- I nearly jumped when I said his name- “The level of bullying I gave her for doing that…”

- “You flirted with him too!”- Morgan argued, and Spencer frowned, totally confused.

- “I did not, I was just mean to him as Emily worked her magic on the poor bastard. You on the other hand”- I turned and looked at Reid, who opened his eyes innocently, giving me his baby look.

- “What did I do, chipmunk?”

- “Morgan taught you how to flirt and you got that waitress’ phone number.”- Morgan laughed at the memory, and Spencer looked at me with his Bambi's eyes not knowing what to say- “And she sent you that stupid card you gave her”

- “Em said your anger was epic that night, so epic indeed, that you drank half a bottle of tequila and rambled for two hours about how much you hated Spencer flirting with other girls and how he never flirted with you.”

I opened my mouth to argue Garcia’s words, but I couldn’t. Instead I smiled, and a lot, ‘cos it was a beautiful memory with my friend. A friend I knew I was never going to see again.

Spencer’s point of view

That night I had to drive (Y/N) back to her place ‘cos she had way too much wine. It wasn’t a crappy evening after all, all things considered. We had a nice time remembering all the fun things we did with Emily, all the jokes, all the laughs. All the nights out. I know I have an eidetic memory, but there was no way on earth I could ever forget a second of all the moments I shared with Prentiss.

I put (Y/N) to bed and then sat on the couch, staring at the wall. I thought about reading for a while, hoping to get sleepy soon, but honestly, I couldn’t focus.

I wrapped my arms around my body and laid on the couch. I felt empty and useless. Sadness was just part of it all. Fear was consuming me. The agony of losing someone and the angst of the imminent loss of the person I loved the most.

The team had been blind to all the signs Emily needed help. I never saw or even thought any of this could ever happen. What could I do if anything like this ever happened to (Y/N)? I was powerless. I needed to find a way to keep her safe and happy. ‘Cos that’s what she deserved. Happiness, nothing less than that.

There was a hole in the middle of my chest and that void was eating all my thoughts, all my knowledge. All my sanity. I grabbed one of (Y/N)’s pillows and covered my face with it as I started crying. I didn’t want to make a noise, she had to rest and get some sleep. Besides, I didn’t want to look weak in front of her. I wanted to be a rock for my woman, a shoulder for her to cry on. I wanted to help her and be there for her. If she saw me crying, she would get worried, and she had enough on her plate. Our friend died, it wasn’t wise to add a weak boyfriend to that mix.

The next day was a blur. Hotch gave us a week off to gather our thoughts and process what had happened. (Y/N) said there weren’t enough days to deal with what had happened, and I completely agreed. The first day we spent it in our pajamas, basically doing nothing but hunting her apartment like a couple of ghosts. I did my best to stay strong and hold (Y/N) every time she broke into tears. But after two days, I needed something to help me cope with my feelings. Or more likely, to avoid them.

Yes, having my girlfriend there for me was incredible. For the first time ever, I didn’t feel alone under such bitter circumstances. She made me feel safe and secure when she held me close at night. But I didn’t want her to think I was a burden in any way. I just wanted to make her happy. Besides, my head was driving me mad. I needed something that could make me stop thinking and feeling for a moment. Just once. One time was all I needed.

- “Do you have to go?”- (Y/N) whispered and hugged me as I stood by her bed, folding my clothes and putting them into my go bag. I really didn’t want to be apart from her, but I needed to cave in. I was trying to be strong, but one last Dilaudil shot could help under those circumstances, right? I couldn’t shake that thought off my head.

- “I will come back tomorrow, chipmunk. I just need to go to my house, grab some clean clothes, a few books, and pay the bills.”- I felt like crap knowing I was lying to her. I was really just going to get Dilaudid and get high.

- “I’m gonna miss you, Batsy”- (Y/N) mumbled against my sweater, as she kept her arms around me, and her face hidden against my back.

- “I’m gonna miss you too. But hey, we have to go to see my mom in a few days, so maybe we can use these hours apart to prepare our bags?”- I turned around and caressed her arms, trying to be positive and cheerful for once.

- “Ok…”- her reply was short and muffled against my chest.

- “If you don’t wanna go to visit my mom…”- but before I could tell her it was ok to postpone the trip, she looked at me and shook her head frantically.

- “No hon, I wanna visit your mom. We have rescheduled this visit for too long, and I wanna see her. I know she is gonna be happy to be with you, and I am also sure you need to hug her right now.”- I smiled and sighed, resting my nose on her head and letting her smell invade every inch of my body. God, I didn’t want to leave that night, ‘cos I knew I was giving up. But I needed to do something to avoid the pain.

- “I don’t deserve you”- I whispered and she shook her head slowly.

- “Never say that again, honey bunny. I love you because you are the best man on earth. I am proud of everything you do. I am lucky you are mine and I’ll always do whatever it takes to make you happy.”

Those words froze me. There I was, packing to go back to my apartment, call my dealer and get high after years of being sober. I was ready to ditch happiness over weakness without actually giving a fight.

Wanna know the worst part? None of that stopped me. I hugged her one last time and walked to the door, promising I would be back the following day. I kissed her and felt her lips lingering on mine for a little longer. Her arms wrapped around my neck, her fingers playing with my hair. I sighed and smiled, pecking her lips one more time as I stared into her eyes in adoration.

- “I love you”- I whispered and she smiled sweetly.

- “I love you too, batsy”- she replied and kissed me one more time- “Now go before I regret it and force you to stay with me on that bed.”- I chuckled, but my heart was just breaking, and it continued breaking as I moved apart from her and walked out of her door.

I actually walked out of her apartment (I still can’t believe I did it), and after a few blocks, I stood in front of a payphone, grabbed a few cents and dialed a number I knew by memory, even though I hadn’t called in years. The same old voice answered and after I presented myself with the same old alias I used back in the days, he chuckled.

- “I knew you’d come back”- the statement felt like a slap of reality. I should have stopped right there, hung up the phone, and gone back to (Y/N)’s. But I did none of that. Instead, I ignored the comment, asked for a dose and my former dealer told me where to go. As simple as that. That’s how I ruined everything I had worked for so hard in my life.

Later that night, I sat on a couch, staring at the Dialaudid bottle on my coffee table. I stared at it, feeling it was actually staring back at me, judging me. I deserved it though, being judged. I was being weak and a liar. And if my girlfriend ever caught me doing drugs again, she would never forgive me, that was a statement.

The phone ringing nearly made me jump off my chair. I grabbed the Dilaudid and hid it in a jacket hanging on a chair before picking up the phone, which made me feel stupid. Whoever was calling would never see it. But I was paranoid and I didn’t want to get caught.

- “Hello?”

- “Hey doc, how are you, it’s Frank.”

- “Hey Paco, nice to hear you.”

- “Likewise. I just wanted to call to tell you I am very sorry for your loss, and that I am here whenever you wanna talk.”- I froze and for a moment, I couldn’t even answer. Not that I was surprised that Frank would give me his support during a hard moment like that, but because I was still surprised I actually had friends. And good friends.

- “Doc? Are you there?”

- “Yeah, sorry. I’m just…”

- “Don’t worry, I totally get it. I was talking with (Y/N) earlier and she gave me the whole story. It’s pretty fucked up”

- “It is”

- “Do you wanna grab a beer? Nugget said you had been spending time with her, but maybe a night with a friend could do you better than being alone.”

- “I... don’t wanna be… a burden”- I simply confessed and closed my eyes.

- “Don’t be stupid. I’ll be there in ten.”

After I left the phone on the table, I stayed still, sitting on the couch, knowing there was a bottle of Dilaudid in my jacket. I couldn’t use it anymore, not if Frank was coming over. Maybe that was a good thing, I didn’t have to fail that night. I could fail the following day, or maybe late that night after Frank left.

Maybe I could tell (Y/N) I’m gonna get to her apartment after lunch, and use it in the morning. No, that was too risky, she might have noticed. I needed a whole night to recover.

My eyes were glued to my jacket. I had Dilaudid. What the hell was I thinking??! I couldn’t do that! not to me, not to (Y/N). After everything we went through those days she locked me in her apartment to get me sober, after all the times I thought about using, but my will was strong enough not to give up. Why was I quitting then?

The knock on my door took me from my thoughts. I jumped from the couch and took a deep breath before answering. Frank stood in the hall with a sick pack and a pizza.

- “I was in the neighborhood.”- he grinned and walked in.- “I didn’t know if you had dinner so I came prepared. Pizza, chips, and beer. It’s dude’s night.”

I smiled and nodded. Hanging out with Frank wasn’t that bad. It was way better than falling into Dilaudid again. I wondered if (Y/N) asked him to call me. Maybe she suspected something when I left earlier. I shouldn’t have left in the first place.

- “So, before you start over analyzing it, (Y/N) didn’t ask me to come or to check on you. I just thought you might need a little company. Someone who is not your girlfriend or any coworker.”- Frank opened a beer and grabbed a slice of pizza, sitting on the couch, on the same exact spot he always sat on when he visited.

- “Thank you, that means a lot.”

- “Don’t sweat it, doc. So… (Y/N) told me you already told her dad about your relationship. How was that?”- I chuckle and grab a beer for myself.

- “Terrifying”- I confess and think of Chief (Y/L/N)’ face when we told her we were together- “For a moment I was sure he was going to kill me. But everything ended up well”

- “He would have killed you if you never confessed your feelings for his daughter. That man really loves you. He has been telling my dad how great you are ever since he met you!”

That made me feel worse. Using Dilaudid again would never look good in front of (Y/N)’s parents, and I wanted to marry her. What the fuck was I thinking calling my dealer again?

- “So, when are you gonna ask her?”- I widened my eyes, shocked. Was Frank actually a mind reader? That would explain a lot. I just stared at him, still sipping my beer and he smiled- “Ok, I was kidding before but now clearly you were thinking about it.”

- “What are you talking about?”

- “I’ve always teased (Y/N) telling her you two are gonna get married, ever since the first time we met you. Now that you are dating, it’s just a matter of time”

- “We haven’t been together for a month yet!”

- “So? you love her, she loves you. What else do you need to know? You’ve known her for years! and you’ve loved her every day of those years. I support you if you wanna do it, and I could be your best man if you need me. I’m guessing Lu is gonna be her bride’s maid.

- “I don’t even have a ring yet”

- “As your best man, I could go with you to Tiffany’s and help you pick one”- I opened my mouth to answer, but no word came out for a few seconds until Frank burst out laughing and chewed his pizza.

- “I’m just kidding doc, I don’t mean to push you. It would be awesome if you two get married and have a lot of kids so I can spoil them and teach them all the bad words, though.”

Surprisingly, Frank had our life planned. I could only think about how disappointed he would be if only he knew I was planning to throw that future off the window when he called. Instead of saying anything else, I kept eating in silence and focused on not making a mess with the cheese in my pizza.

- “Mikey says hi by the way. I saw him earlier, I would have told him to come but he had a date.”

- “A date? wow, that’s new”

- “Yeah, the kid doesn’t date much, but when he does, it’s usually epic. Last time he dated a girl, they got matching tattoos.”- Frank started chuckling and nearly chook with his beer.

- “I remember, I was there when he showed us”- I raised an eyebrow as I reminded him I was actually part of that story. I was the one who told Mikey about all the infections he might get getting a tattoo in a random place, and also reminded him of the statistic of couples breaking up after getting one.

- “Right! sorry, I don’t have an eidetic memory”

- “And you were probably stoned”- I added and Frank grinned.

- “I don’t talk about drugs with the feds, doc.”

- “I don’t see any fed in the room. I’m home, Frank, not at work.”- and I also had drugs in the apartment. Shit, every second made me regret more my stupid decision of getting Dilaudid.

- “I know, I know, but I like teasing you two.”

- “Did you already have this talk with (Y/N)? the whole marriage thing?”- Frank nodded, chewing his pizza- “And did she freak out?”

- “Not really, so I would take that as a good sign.”

We ended up playing poker and drinking beer. Frank told me about a girl he had just met, and who seemed to be nice and fun to date. He also told me about how tired he was of his work, but he couldn’t quit or find anything new until the end of the year. He said he was planning to start a master's in psychology the following year, so he needed to save some money. I told him about our trip to visit my mother, and how excited I was to tell her (Y/N) and I were finally dating. We also talked about music, the piano lessons (Y/N) was giving me, gambling, and the first time I got kicked out of a casino.

We talked about anything and everything, except Prentiss. And it felt good, for once. It was an escape from reality, from feeling miserable and crying. It made me feel guilty for a moment, ‘cos I was having a lot of fun, but I figured if it included cards and booze, Prentiss would approve.

- “I was shocked when nugget told me you came home tonight. I had the feeling you two were way too entertained physically to bear a night apart”

- “I am not telling you about our sex life”- I raised both eyebrows as I continued dealing the cards.

- “Trust me, I don’t wanna know. I love my friend and I respect her intimacy.”- Frank made a pause and looked at me, trying his best not to burst out laughing.

- “I don’t need to use any profiler’s skill to know you are lying!”- and so he started laughing.

- “Sorry, sorry. Just… one question”

- “No, Frank!”- I frowned, but chuckled, ‘cos the fact he wanted to ask about our sex life was weird and I didn’t get why he was trying to do it.

- “I just need to know something!”

- “No!”

After we switched to whisky, talked more about music, specifically Johnny Cash, and ended up singing along with a vinyl I was playing, Frank came back with the sex questions.

- “Come on man! I am not a perv or anything, I just…”

- “No!”- I nearly shouted, chuckling.

- “But I need to know how the fuck can you be here with me getting drunk if you waited forever for her and didn’t fuck with anyone else that I know in like five years… did you?”

- “No”- if I hadn’t been half drunk, I wouldn’t have answered, I know that.

- “Ok, so if you didn’t fuck with anyone for five years, not even freaking Lila Archer! why aren’t you catching up with all the years of missing sex?! And how do you even manage to get out of bed to work every morning? I mean, you two have so much fucking pending!”

I just laughed for a moment, until Frank’s words made total sense. There I was, originally alone to get high, and then with Frank getting drunk, when I could be with the woman I loved, making love to her. What the fuck was I doing?

- “Now you wanna go and have sex with her, don’t you?”- Frank asked and finished his glass. I just looked at him, knowing I was blushing and finished my drink as well.

- “Oh shit you do. Fine, let’s share a cab.”- Frank stood up and grabbed what was left in the bag of chips.

- “Wait!”- I ran to my room, grabbed my bag, and filled it with clean clothes in less than two minutes- “Ok, now I’m ready”

- “Got enough condoms?”

- “She is on the pill”- again, things I would have never said if I hadn’t been half drunk.

- “Nice! Let’s go.”

And somehow, after a pizza, poker, whisky, and rambling, Frank accidentally stopped me from using Dilaudid and sent me back to (Y/N)’s arms. I still wonder if that was his plan all along.

I opened the door quietly. It was nearly two in the morning when I got to her place. The lights were out, so I took off my shoes and quietly made it to her room. There she was, laying on the bed, softly snoring. A book still on her lap let me know what she was doing before falling asleep. I left my bag on the floor, took off my pants and shirt, and got into bed with her. I carefully grabbed the book from her hands and put it on the night table, turned off the lights, and wrapped her in my arms.

- “I am so sorry, love. I promise I will never be that man again. I don’t wanna disappoint you.”- I mumbled and felt her breathing against my skin, as she fluttered her eyes and smiled.

- “What are you doing here, honey?”

- “I realized sleeping without you was a mistake. I don’t ever wanna be apart from you. Never.”- she smiled and snuggled closer.

- “You are welcome to stay forever, honey bunny.”- (Y/N) whispered, wrapping her arms around me - “Were you drinking?”

- “Frank brought beer… and I had whisky”- I kissed her neck and my hands roamed her body as I heard her chuckle. I hadn’t heard her laugh in days, that sound really made me feel happy.

- “I see, well, sleep that booze off and tomorrow you’ll have a nice breakfast for the hangover.”

- “But I don’t wanna sleep, ma cherié. I wanna worship you and love you like I always dreamed of doing”- I attached my lips to her neck and started sucking on her soft skin, to refresh the marks that claimed her as mine.

- “Worship me?”- she questioned and giggled. I don’t know why she found that amusing, I was completely serious.

- “Yes, like a goddess, the sun of my life, the light of my eyes”- I mumbled and made a trail of wet kisses from her neck to her chest, but she stopped me before I could reach her breasts.

- “Spencer, you are drunk!”

- “Yes, but not really that drunk. Consider myself uninhibited.”- I rolled on the bed and positioned myself on top of her. She looked at me confused.- “I am not intoxicated, pumpkin. I just had a long conversation with Frank that made me realize I wanted to be buried deep inside of you instead of being home alone.”

- “Spencer Walter Reid, you are being very honest!”- she made a pause and gasped- “Oh my god! were you talking about sex with Frank?”

- “What? No! I swear! he just started asking things and that made me think I wanted to be with you and love you all night long.”

And without giving her time to reply or even react, I crushed my lips against her and kissed her so deeply I nearly felt dizzy. I didn’t stop kissing her until I felt her hands on my back, holding me closer to her. That’s when I moved my lips from hers and heard her soft whimper of disapproval. I would have stopped myself and continued kissing her, I just wanted to do what made her happy, but… I knew what I had in mind was gonna be so much better for her.

I kissed her jaw and neck as I removed her pajama top. Then I continued my way down her body, playing with her breast for a long while, licking all over and pinching her nipples as she twisted underneath me, whispering my name. The delicious moans coming from her were the encouragement I needed to continue. So I moved my hand underneath the waistband of her cotton pajama shorts and slid my fingers between her wet folds. Even I let out a groan when I felt her so ready for me, it made my cock even harder, confined inside my boxers.

- “Spencer, please”- I heard her whisper and I looked at her, while I continued licking her nipples and she moaned even harder as we made eye contact.

- “Let me love you”- I murmured and resumed my task. I toyed with her clit, rubbing it slowly and teasing her entrance a few times, licking my fingers just to show her how much I liked her taste.

- “Honey, please let me touch you”- she begged and I shook my head, moving my lips from her breast and down her stomach, as I also tried to keep my erection away from her hands.

- “Not yet. I wanna please you first.”

I slowly moved until my face was perfectly located between her legs. My own piece of heaven. Her breathing was already shaking and I hadn’t even touched her yet. That felt like a good boost to my ego. I wanted to be able to please my woman, literally worship her. Frank was right, I had wasted way too much time before and I couldn’t continue on that path. I needed to enjoy every second with her, ‘cos I loved her. And I knew it was forever.

I wrapped my tongue around her clit, sucking it lightly and she twisted in pleasure right away, a soft moan leaving her lips. I grabbed her tights and kept her still in front of me. My tongue ran through her folds and two of my fingers made their way slowly into her entrance.

- “God, honey”- she twisted and I tried to hold her in place.

- “You taste so sweet”- I murmured against the inside of her thighs- “I could eat you all day, every day. I love you so much, so, so much.”- I looked at her for a moment and she smiled at me. But before she could reply, I started lapping her again, eating her like a hungry man. Her body trembled underneath me and her hand quickly found my hair, fingers entangled in it, trying to guide me to her release.

- “You are gonna make me cum already”- she said after a few minutes and bit her lips- “I don’t think I’ve ever cum this fast”

- “Cum for me, ma cherie. Let me make you feel good.”- she let out a groan as I felt her wall tighten around my fingers. Her moans were more intense until she reached her peak, nearly yelling.

I didn’t des attack my lips from her cunt. Instead, I kissed it slowly as she rode her high, and I didn’t stop until overstimulation made her jump. That’s when I kissed my way up to her breast again, then to her neck, and finally her lips.

- “You really are a genius”- (Y/N) chuckled and kissed me. I ran my hand down her face and lingered my fingers on the few bruises I had left on her skin earlier that week.

- “You are my everything”- I confessed feeling my cheeks turn pink. My girlfriend smiled and kissed me again- “And I am so scared to lose you.”

- “You won’t lose me, honey. Never.”- I felt a knot in my throat thinking she didn’t know what I had done. And she should never know either. So instead of drowning myself in depressing thoughts, I decided to continue with my task and worship my girlfriend. I kissed her slowly as I got rid of my underwear and aligned my cock against her entrance.

- “Please Spencer”

- “What do you need, ma cherié?”

- “You, just you.”- her request was more than I could take and I had to fight the tears back for a moment. But it wasn't time to think, it was time to act and show her just how much I loved every inch of her.

- “You have me, always.”

With a slow movement, and looking into her eyes, I slipped inside her. She gasped and scratched my arms as I did, adjusting to the intrusion.

- “You feel so good, honey”- I heard her whisper as she smiled for a moment before I leaned over and kissed her. I could still taste her juices in my mouth and the mix in her lips was fueling me. I slowly started moving inside her, as she moaned into my mouth.

- “I could live like this, buried deep into you, fucking you slowly, watching you cum.”

- “You are very uninhibited, honey”- she giggled as I kissed her neck.

- “I did warn you that”

- “Yes, and I’m loving it”

- “Good, ‘cos I think we wasted too much time being just friends and now I want to tell you what I feel for you all the time. And right now, ma cherié, I wanna make you cum and scream my name again until you can’t feel your legs anymore.”  

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I'm a nurse aide, not a punching bag

[mypoisonedvine]

Perks of the Job | dark!Boba Fett x reader x (soft)dark!Din Djarin

summary: the only thing worse than one bounty hunter on your trail is two.  the only thing worse than a bounty hunter who wants to abuse you is a bounty hunter who wants to make you into a lesson for his makeshift apprentice.  the only thing worse than a villain is a villain who thinks he’s a hero.

word count: 5.8k

warnings: smut (noncon, including vaginal, oral m receiving, anal, and dp… so you know, basically everything), a specific kink of mine which I have dubbed "no, not there!" or NNT for short (betcha can guess what that means), din catching feelings lowkey, hair pulling, choking, bondage, forced begging, all the good stuff

Boba had proven to be unendingly useful in bounty missions, even if he was a little bit rough around the edges and slightly more ‘shoot first ask questions later’ in his attack style.  Still, Din was grateful for his aid and was happy to tag along when Boba explained he was tracking a target to Florrum— just a smuggler, wanted by the New Republic for trafficking death sticks all across the Outer Rim, nothing too serious or high-profile.

Turned out Din was less useful than he wanted to be, because only Boba was able to get into the club he’d traced your beacon to, so Din was instead left to wait on Slave I and try not to get into any trouble in the meantime.

After less than an hour of resting his eyes in the cockpit, he heard Boba’s voice come in through the comms system.  “Target acquired,” he rasped, and Din instantly noticed the distant sounds of struggle and the destruction he must have left in his wake.  “Be ready to take off when we board.”

Din leaned forward to hold down the blue button; “Roger,” he replied quickly as he kept an eye on the camera feed of the loading platform, opening and extending it so the hunter and his bounty could board easily.  The man appeared on the visual soon after, dragging a woman by the scruff of her neck.

It was you, with your hands tied behind your back and your mouth restrained by a makeshift gag.  You were putting up quite a fight, but not nearly enough to stop a man as ruthless as Fett.  The second the two of you were inside, Din triggered the loading platform to return to its upright resting place as he started the engines, the ship’s gyroscopic insides tilting against the lift-off sequence.  He turned his attention away from the screen as he saw Boba toss you to the ground, focusing instead on his task of exiting the atmosphere and getting the ship into hyperspace so you could be returned to those who sought you.

Hyperspace was quieter, which meant he could hear the sounds of your resistance more easily even with you in another part of the ship entirely.  Wondering what all the fuss was about (and, secretly, a bit curious about this feisty young woman Fett had captured), Din made his way out of the cockpit and towards the cargo bay where Boba was wrestling with you.

It didn’t really seem like a fight, in the traditional sense of the word, since a fight implies two opposing forces— it seemed more like you were giving everything you had to try to wrench out of his grip (and go where?, Din was forced to wonder, we’re in hyperspace) while your captor was merely humoring you by not immediately knocking you out and freezing you in carbonite.

Your desperate grunts and whines were muffled by your gag, screeching to a halt as Boba used one hand to hold your torso and pull your back against his chest, the other gripping your jaw tightly.  “Stop fighting, little girl,” he hissed, “you’re just going to get yourself hurt.”  That deep commanding voice enough to intimidate even Din; thankfully, Din was on Fett’s good side, for the moment, and was pretty sure his own ‘bounty hunter voice’ (as he referred to it only in his own head) was at least 80% as scary.

You made this little motion like you were considering disobeying his instruction, but your rebellion was quelled by a gloved fist tangling into and subsequently tugging your hair.  You winced, but relaxed a bit as you gave in to the reality that you’d been bested.

Din didn’t understand what was happening when Boba bent your bound-and-gagged form over a console, but he knew it couldn’t be good: not with the way tears were pouring down your face and soaking the cloth tied through your mouth, not with the way you struggled underneath his grip in your hair and on the back of your tunic.

“What are you doing,” Din asked, although it didn’t come out quite like a question without that uptick at the end, his voice firm and steady and deep even as his heart started to race.

“What do you think I’m doing?  I’m taking my bonus,” Boba answered plainly, kicking your flailing legs apart to slot his body between them.

Boba must have seen the younger man’s confusion, even through his helmet, because he took a pause from his work to look back at Din.

“You can fuck ‘em before you chuck ‘em, you know,” Boba informed him, like it was obvious— like this was open secret that he was amazed he hadn’t already acted on.  Truly, the thought hadn’t really crossed Din’s mind before.  His upbringing had been devoid of any sexual education, even to the point of drawing a clear line between right and wrong.  Then again, right and wrong were always a blurry mix in his mind as a bounty hunter: instead of that dichotomy, he was taught that there was the Code and nothing else.  And the Code didn’t have anything to say about this, specifically, even as guilt and fear tingled up his spine along with the sickly addictive feeling burning in his gut— arousal, as he realized with a little gasp.

Fett leaned down to push his helmet against your ear, as if you’d be able to hear him any clearer even though the helmet’s modulator made it all sound mostly the same anyway.  “Don’t try to fight me,” he insisted again.  “Just stay still and keep your mouth shut.”

After a shaky breath, you nodded a little, and Boba sat back up, letting go of you with both of his hands— Din was pretty surprised to see you actually stay still, clearly the threat had gotten to you.  Fear, as the Mandalorian had learned many times, was a much more powerful tool of control than force.  Boba had you beat in both regards.

There was a little grunt from the man behind you as he reached down to fiddle with his trousers, finding the belt and opening which he reached into.  From where he was standing, Din couldn’t really see what exactly his travel companion was doing, but even he wasn’t so naive not to figure it out.

A harsh, cracked sound spilled from your mouth, muffled through the gag, as Boba roughly pulled your trousers down and slid his cock between your legs, teasing you— taunting you.  It wasn’t enough to violate you, apparently; he had to degrade you, siphon every drop of terror as he reminded you what was happening.  You shook your head, and even though your words were objectively unintelligible, it was apparent to Din that you were pleading with your captor to stop.

Din got the sense that he should leave, but his feet were welded to the floor.  His eyes were trained on you, shaking and breathing unsteadily where you were bent over and your head was turned to the side to press on the cold metal.  You closed your eyes tightly, and Din recognized the expression as ‘bracing for impact,’ although in your case, it wasn’t that you were about to be impacted but impaled.  Of course this couldn’t be right, Din knew enough to know that, in fact he was pretty sure it was illegal on some planets, but they weren’t on any planet right now, and Din had done things that are illegal on every planet.  Maybe this really was normal bounty-hunting fare, and he was just too inexperienced to realize that.  Maybe this was a relic of how hunters operated in Boba’s time; and Din, of course, had a lot of respect for tradition.

Maybe, more than anything, Din had lost track of the part of himself that cared if it was right or wrong, overpowered by a much more primal part of himself that had been chained and suppressed for far too long.  The funny thing about monsters is that they get hungrier the longer you keep them caged up.

The way your fists clenched and shook as you were forced to take the hunter’s cock inside you, the way your teeth ground together and a hiss leaked out from between them, the way you whimpered and cried and he could see the shiver run up your spine… Din was obsessed with it, and his chest burned with a foreign emotion that could be described as jealousy, but that wouldn’t explain all of it.  It was more than that, indescribable even to someone much more fluent in the language of feelings than Din was.

You sobbed quietly as your body went limp underneath his tight grip on the back of your tunic, just between your shoulder blades.  He was already moving his hips quickly, chasing the pleasure he stole from your body.  Din could see that he was hurting you, pain unmistakable in the way your expression twisted, even as the rest of your body seemed to have resigned itself.

Din wished, against every instinct of justice still firing wildly in the back of his mind, that he was hurting you like that, and not his companion.  Although, he also fancied himself noble enough that, given the opportunity, he would treat you fairer than Boba would.  And he was right, but then again, to be less cruel than Boba Fett takes little chivalry.

Your cries were sharp, loud enough at times to echo around the ship’s interior, other times completely silent as the brutality of Boba’s movements knocked the wind out of your lungs.

“Take her mouth,” Boba offered, “it’ll be a good way to shut her up.”

Din’s head was spinning as he tried to process that.  It was like his body was moving on pure instinct as he stepped closer, his trousers getting tighter as you looked up at him.  Your eyes were pleading for something: mercy, presumably, but he felt helpless to do anything but obey Boba’s order.  It was an order, right?  He had to do it.  

A gloved finger tucked under your gag and pulled it out of your mouth, the fabric falling around your neck as you licked your dry and cracked lips.

“Please,” you whispered.

He kept one hand weaved into your hair as the other opened his pants, his cock bouncing free the moment it was given any space to do so.  He held it at the base tightly, afraid it would all end too soon if he didn’t.  

“Please, don’t do this,” you insisted, whimpering a little as he rubbed his cock around your lips, smearing the clear precum over your cheek.  

The hand he’d tangled into your hair moved to grip your jaw, forcing your mouth open, and he gently pushed his cock inside— barely enough to rub his cock on your tongue, to feel the humid moisture of your breathing.  You didn’t close your lips until he pushed his cock deeper, enveloping him in the silky skin of your mouth as he tried to keep his cool.  How it felt was one thing, but how it looked was another entirely— your lips stretching over his girth, your cheeks bulging where the head of his cock pressed against the inside, your eyes blinking up at him as they brimmed with fresh tears.  He hadn’t even been creative enough to imagine something like this those few times he’d gotten himself off with his hand, those few times basic biological need overcame confusion and naivete and ineptitude.  Now it was going to be the thing he thought about every time, which was why he was doing his best to commit it to memory now.  

Every groan and whimper that Boba forced you to make was vibrating through his cock, making Din sigh shakily and hold your head with both hands.

“Maker,” Din whispered as his head fell back, even though he didn’t believe in the Maker.  At least, he hadn’t before.

“Good, isn’t it?” Boba encouraged, his voice tinted with the curl of a grin.  Din couldn’t imagine what Boba was getting out of sharing his spoils with him, but he wasn’t one to question the nature of a gift when it felt like this, like your hot, wet tongue massaging the underside of his cock.

“Yes,” Din agreed hoarsely.

You yelped around his length when Boba brought a gloved hand down to smack your rear, the sound almost as erotic as the way your flesh rippled and shook with his aggressive touch.  “Go on, suck him harder, give ‘im a real show,” Boba instructed to you darkly.  You whimpered but did as he’d said, hollowing your cheeks and creating the most wonderful pressure as you sucked on Din’s swollen head.  

Boba shed himself of his right glove, tossing it aside to palm at where your flesh had turned red in the shape of his hand already.  Din shivered as he watched Boba’s thumb move inward— he couldn’t see where it was, but he had a pretty good idea based on the way your entire body tensed up, a weak whimper of confusion echoing around Din’s cock.

Instinct told him to take his cock out of your mouth, even if the idea of not feeling you for a moment was unpleasant in so many ways.  Still, he figured he needed to hear whatever it was you had to say.

“Don’t,” you pleaded with Boba.  “Not that.”

“Bet you’ll like it,” Boba assured, and he must have pushed in to the first knuckle because your whole body jolted forward, running from the sensation as you winced.  “Relax,” Boba instructed firmly.

“Stop,” you whimpered, and Din’s heart twisted to see you in pain.

“Do what he says,” Din suggested— not a command, just his best proposal of a solution.  In situations of inequitable experience, Din deferred to Boba liberally; certainly, Boba knew more about this than he did, even if that was a very low bar.

“Please, make him stop,” you whispered to him, more of a conversation than the two of you had had before.  He was almost tempted to honor your request, even if he would never consider standing up to Boba, but his body was pulsing with need and it overrode any sense of decency left. 

“I’m sorry,” was his only consolation as he pushed into your mouth again, and though it wasn’t a lie, it wasn’t very useful to you, either.

He held your neck as he pushed himself deeper, his sense of shame deteriorating in favor of pleasure.  It was embarrassing enough to be doing this at all, let alone with Boba right there, watching him— well, Boba didn’t really seem to be watching him, too preoccupied with watching you squirm beneath him, but still, he could see it and that was a fact Din preferred to ignore.  He imagined instead that this was a private, intimate moment the way it ought to be, the way that he had deduced these activities were usually conducted.  He also imagined that you wanted to do this to him, that you were on your knees willingly as opposed to bent over a table by force.  It was so easy to picture you wanting it, begging for it, even.  Let me do this for you, I want to taste you, I want to make you feel good, you would offer as you knelt down, and he would still feel guilty for it but he wouldn’t stop you, either.  Din hadn’t previously allowed himself to fantasize about having a companion of that nature, but as he indulged himself in his imagination now, he decided you would be unendingly generous: with your time, with your love, with your body.  In return he would protect you… from exactly the sort of thing he was subjecting you to right now.  

Renewed guilt seared through his chest as reality hit: you’d never care about him, you hated him, he could see that clearly in the way you looked up at him while he used your mouth.  And he didn’t blame you for it at all, although he wished you would appreciate that it was Boba’s idea in the first place and that his crime was far worse than Din’s.  Fett seemed to get off on your reluctance, relish and savor it, while it was just a compromise to Din.

You closed your eyes with a little sigh through your nose, relaxing your mouth further for him to thrust his hips forward into.  He realized that you were trying to relax like Boba had told you, and for good reason— Fett had replaced his thumb for two fingers, and Din was almost curious enough to lean forward and try to get a glimpse of your puckered hole opening up to him.  You looked pretty with your eyes fallen shut, those eyelashes delicately resting on your cheeks, but it wasn’t as good as being able to gaze right at you.

“Don’t close your eyes,” Din instructed quickly.  When they opened again, he saw your stare dart around his helmet, seeking somewhere to latch onto.  “Right here,” he clarified, releasing one hand from your throat to tap on the tinted visor.  When you looked at where he had told you to, it was almost like you were really looking him in the eyes— although, truthfully, he was sort of glad that you couldn’t because he was sure you would find more there than he wanted you to see.  It would be impossible to hide his nervousness, his inexperience, his fear if it weren’t for the beskar in the way.  Even now, your bright eyes threatened to pierce right through him.

“You’re gonna come, aren’t you, girl?” Boba rasped, the closest Din had ever heard him to beaming with pride.

You shook your head against the intrusion in your mouth, and Din pulled out to give you a chance to talk.  (Perhaps it also served the secondary purpose of delaying Din’s orgasm, which he had been holding back for so long now as he found himself oddly insecure about his stamina, but that’s neither here nor there.)  “No,” you denied, but your voice was wavering as your eyes darted to the floor.

“She’s lying,” Din announced.

“I know,” Boba replied.  “I can feel it— on the inside,” he hissed, and Din wasn’t sure if he was addressing him or you but it made a jolt of electricity shoot up his spine either way.  You seemed to react strongly to that, too, although any verbal reaction was lost to him shoving his cock into your mouth one last time— yes, this time he had no intentions of stopping until he pumped his come right into your throat.  

It was all happening so much faster than he intended, due in part to your moans shooting right down through his shaft to his balls, which grew tight with his impending release.  He’d never felt anything like this— he hadn’t realized before that it would feel different when it wasn’t his hand.  I mean, of course everything before the orgasm would feel different, but he imagined that the peak itself was the same.  That assumption was beyond inaccurate— he’d never fucked his own hand the way he was fucking your throat, he’d never moaned the way you were making him moan now, he’d never tightened his fists like he was now, and even if he had, it wouldn’t have meant choking you and hearing all your cries come to a sudden halt.

Without your noises it was only the slapping of flesh and the occasional filtered breath through a helmet.  He missed your moans, and yet he relished his power to take them away so suddenly.

He could feel the shape of his own cock through the thick skin of your throat, bulging into his hand, accentuated by your pulse just nearby.  He could feel you fighting for air.  He understood now why Boba had more fun with this than he did with hookers in cantinas— your helplessness was his power.  Your weakness was his strength.  And Din had never felt so strong.

He relaxed his grip to give you a chance to swallow as he came, pumping into your throat, grunting with each pulse of his cock filling your mouth.

Suddenly the sensation felt like it would become too much, forcing Din to pull his cock out of you and step back.  At the same time, Fett stepped back too, which was odd because Din was pretty sure he hadn't finished: if he had, he was a lot more subtle about it than Din was.

“You want your turn, don’t you?” Boba addressed Din, making the latter feel awkwardly exposed.

“I thought this was my turn,” Din answered.

“With her pussy,” Boba clarified, and Din was sure that he had managed to blush hard enough that it was somehow visible through the helmet.

"And you?" Din asked, not wanting to impose.

"I'll be attending to… another matter," Boba explained with that audible smirk in his tone, and Din had a few ideas of what that could mean, all of which caused him to swallow thickly as Fett grabbed you and pulled you up to stand before unceremoniously dropping you to the floor.  Din joined you there, not quite sure what he should be doing but figuring he should get on with it as the other man knelt down behind you.

Pulling you onto his lap, you spread your legs to straddle him in an unexpected show of submission which Din thoroughly appreciated.  One arm held you up while the other grasped his cock, still hard and hopefully not too sensitive so he could actually do this— he could actually fuck you.  It felt unreal; it felt beyond real, hyperreal as he started to slide his cock through the soaked and swollen intricacies of your sex.  You must have come like Fett said you would, otherwise he couldn't imagine how you'd become so wet… he could even see it glistening on the inside of your thighs. 

When he found the opening he was looking for, all Din had to do was lower you down onto him, gasping slightly as he watched and felt you sink down onto and around him, a little grunt coming out of you as your hips met his.

It was lucky that he’d already come once, in your mouth, because otherwise he would’ve lost it right then and there— you were so warm inside, soaked thoroughly such that his movements were smooth and easy as he instantly started to fuck you, groaning at how perfectly your body accepted him.

“Slow down,” Boba grunted, “I need to get in.”

You cried and shivered as the other man pushed into your available entrance, your head falling exhaustedly onto Din’s shoulder.  He looked down at your face, then, and brushed your hair away so he could see it better, peeling strands from where they had been stuck to your forehead and neck by the thin layer of sweat that covered you.  He wanted to comfort you, to promise that the pain would ease soon, but he couldn’t really think of anything to say; so, he just held you tight as he began to move within you again, and saw the other hunter do the same.

He made a conscious effort to not look at Boba’s cock, for fear of comparing it to his own.  It was disturbing enough to be able to feel it, slightly, through the thin barrier your body provided.  How inconceivable that Din had woken up a virgin and would fall asleep tonight with the memory of this lodged in his mind forever.  In one day of sexual activity he’d gotten more done than many would in a lifetime, and yet he still lacked the most common things: love, passion, consent… perhaps someday he’d find those, even if it could never be from you.

Not worried anymore about an attempt to fight or flee, Din reached back and untied your wrists from each other, hoping he wouldn't get scolded for it by Fett who thankfully remained silent aside from his own restrained sounds of pleasure.  You clung to him instantly, your freshly-freed hands clutching at his back, and he decided to interpret it as a token of affection even if he knew that was a bit of a stretch.  If nothing else, maybe you recognized him as the lesser of two evils.  

He opted to take credit for the way your moans were different from before; even in his wildest fantasies could he not convince himself that he was better at this than Boba was, but he could swing at the idea that you preferred him because you were meant for him.  It was probably more outlandish, yes, but it was so easy to believe that you were made to be his when you felt so good around him.  Din hadn’t even known anything could feel this good.

Something Boba had said earlier gained clearer meaning when Din felt your inner walls seize up and shift around him.  Trying not to be too loud, he resorted to coping with the feeling by gripping your waist tightly.  The idea that he could leave bruises on your skin excited him more than he would have anticipated (if, of course, he had anticipated any of this).

Another tug on your hair from Boba wrenched your head back.  "Gonna come," he grunted at you lowly, "in this tight little ass.  You want it?"

"Please," you whispered, not quite sounding enthusiastic but managing to give him whatever he was looking for, apparently, as another choked noise signalled his release.  Your body reacted strongly to that, clenching down hard on Din's cock.

"You like it," Din posited.  "I can feel it," he reminded you when you tried to deny it with a shake of your head, "from the inside."

Boba took his time pulling out, the most peculiar sensation that made Din shudder a bit.  As tight as you were when you were full in that way, Din preferred having you to himself.

"I'll be in the fresher," Boba announced as he stood up and tucked himself back into his uniform, looking so composed in a way Din envied; he was sure, somehow, that he looked a complete mess even with the armor covering him.  "I'll leave you to your fun.  Don't take too long."

“I— I won’t last much longer,” Din stammered, wondering immediately if it was too much information.

“Not inside,” you begged suddenly.  

Boba chuckled a little as he left, and Din wondered if it was what he said or what you said that made him laugh.  The thought was forgotten as the hunter left, and he suddenly felt a wave of nerves wash over him— the way he always felt when he was alone with a pretty girl.  Not that he'd ever been alone with a pretty girl quite like this.

Not sure what to say, he opted to just not say anything as he held you tight and bucked his hips up into you.  You wouldn't let him off that easy, apparently, as you reiterated yourself: "You can't come inside, please don't—"

"This isn't a negotiation," Din reminded you firmly.

He was too close to imagine stopping now, anyway; the snug grip of your insides was too good to be ignored, his body was incapable of slowing down as he fucked you deeper and faster than ever.  He noticed which angle of his hips made you moan loudest, hoping to feel you come around him just like Boba had.  

“Come for me,” he instructed, hearing an impression of Fett in his own voice as he tried to come across as dominating, “I wanna feel it.”

You shivered a little, whimpering into the crook of his neck before he lifted you by the jaw to look at your face.  You looked exhausted, eyes blown wide and dark, lips swollen and bitten red, hair tangled and unruly from being used essentially as reigns.

“Can you do that?  Can you come?” he pressed, grinding his hips up into yours and watching you whine at the sensation of being filled so deeply.  You nodded, but that wasn’t enough for him.  “Say it.”

“Yes,” you answered, “I’ll— I’ll come.”

“Good,” he praised plainly, doing his best to hold himself back until he got his chance to feel you reach your peak.  

Your head fell back as your hands weakly tugged at his shoulders, and Din hoped that tearing your tunic down the front to grope your breasts would speed things along for you.  He hadn’t taken off his gloves, but even so he relished the weight of them in his palms, curiously pinching at a hardened nipple which made you flex around him again.

“Are you close,” he asked, losing that intonation of a question again, focusing instead on trying not to sound exasperated.

“Yes,” you hissed, “I’m gonna— fuck,” you interrupted yourself.

You were moving a bit on your own now, instead of him holding you still and letting you limply take it like a ragdoll— no, you were rocking your hips in time with him, pushing down against him.  You wanted it, obviously, and Din was more than happy to give it to you.  He slammed into you with each thrust, held you down so you couldn’t squirm, groaned when he felt your body pulse around him.  A new surge of wetness gushed between your bodies, your broken cry echoed right against his ear— if this wasn’t a dead giveaway that you were coming, he wasn’t sure what was.  Unable to hold back anymore as you sobbed and shivered on top of him, he finally released into you, everything building up so fast only to snap in a moment, an embarrassingly weak moan slipping from his lips.  

He was sure he had never been so exhausted, but it was the most incredible feeling as well.  A little tear fell down your cheek— from terror, maybe, or disgust, or even pleasure… he had no real way to tell.

As he began to catch his breath, he wondered if he should say something; and, if he should, what that would be.  Thankfully, he felt the lurch of the ship leaving hyperspace— the weight of gravity sinking a little heavier as you slumped down on top of him.

He picked you up and set you down on the floor, standing as he delicately stuffed his cock back into his trousers.  “Looks like he’ll bring you in soon,” Din mumbled, but you didn’t really seem to care much, just laying on the floor and staring into nothingness.  He watched his seed leak out of you and onto the steel, making a mental note to clean that up later, hoping you weren’t too angry with him for disobeying your request that he finish elsewhere.  “You’ll need a new tunic,” he noticed as he realized it was probably less than ideal to bring in a target who had been so obviously violated.  “I’ll bring you something to cover yourself with,” he decided.  

Heading for his sack to search for an old cape or blanket that you could wear, he passed by the cockpit where Boba was steering the ship.

“I’m keeping the reward,” Boba interjected suddenly without turning back to look towards him, making Din stop walking, “since I was generous enough to share the… fringe benefits.”

“Of course,” Din nodded, not having expected a share of the bounty in the first place since all he’d done was keep lookout during the actual hunt.  He was ready to walk away, but Boba spoke again as he turned the captain’s chair and faced Din, finally.

“Did you do what she asked?” Boba pressed.

“What?” Din choked, taking a moment to remember what he was even talking about— when you asked him not to come inside, apparently.  “Oh, um, no.”  His face warmed beneath the beskar as Fett chuckled to himself.

“Good,” he nodded.  “Never take commands from a target, or a whore.”

Din shuffled nervously but said nothing, considering he had no idea how to respond to that.

“Besides,” Boba continued as he turned back to the controls of the ship, “if she’s pregnant that’ll be the New Republic’s problem.”

Din figured he was free to go now, taking a moment to glance over Boba’s shoulder at the planet ahead before continuing ahead.  His quest for a cloak for you was nearly forgotten as he tried to clear his mind of what Boba had said so casually.  He needed a shower, desperately, but he didn’t have time before the ship landed— and Fett probably intended on making Din complete the transfer and bring the credits back, since the older hunter wasn’t exactly a friend of the Republic.  

He ended up grabbing an old shirt of his, tossing it at you when he entered the room where he’d left you, finding you standing with your trousers pulled back up.  Silently he wondered if you had made any effort to clean yourself of his come or if it was still there between your legs, but neither of you said a word as he put you in more formal shackles than the rags that Boba had tied you with originally.

The New Republic officer definitely reacted to your appearance when Din brought you forward, all but dragging you as he gripped your arm.  “When’d she get so roughed up?” the young officer interrogated as he handed Din the credits he was owed.  

“Found her like this,” Din shrugged.

He didn’t seem to buy it, with the way he scanned your form and raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t say anything else as he motioned for two guards to take you away.  Din considered looking back but decided against it, returning to the ship and immediately surrendering the credits to their rightful owner in Boba.

“Next job’s on Dantooine,” Boba informed him gruffly as he piloted the ship out of the atmosphere.  But Din wasn’t listening, instead watching your new prison shrink and disappear into a dot, hoping to find in himself the carelessness that Boba had already mastered.  He had a thousand questions he wanted to ask his hunting partner— Is this how it always goes?  Will it happen again?  Do you really think she could be pregnant? — but he wouldn’t even consider speaking any of them aloud.  It was almost funny that they had shared something so disturbingly intimate and Din still felt unable to be direct with him, although neither of them had the sense of humor to appreciate it.

“Thank you,” Din blurted out.  “For teaching me about the job.”

“My pleasure,” Boba replied gruffly, and with a jump back into hyperspace, the ship was submerged once again into silence.

[shadowfae]

We’re all pretty aware that the tumblr otherkin community is at a huge decline; I was wondering if you have any theories as to why that is?

American Protestantism, the decline of queer oppression in North America and the AIDS crisis, helicopter parenting, web 3.0, morality politics, and  Tumblr’s porn ban; roughly in that order and rolled up into one bombshell that was a few years in the coming but nobody really saw it and understood it until it was far too late.

That was a mouthful and probably only made sense if you follow current cyberpolitical theory. For some of you reading this, as with every other hot take I have this has a chance of being passed around, that alone is enough. But for others who had no idea what I just said and need the ELI5 version, let me explain that. Buckle up, this’ll be a long one, and will go into fandom history a bit as well because it is actually relevant.

As we know, tumblr is a very American-centric platform. Twitter is also this way, but less so, but tumblr has it bad. Now, I’m ‘lucky’ in the fact that I’m Canadian and a twenty minute drive from the American border, so that puts me in the ‘privileged’ majority. (I say privileged because I’m not really sure what else to call it. Most of the information going around about politics either directly affects me or indirectly affects me approximately one or two links of contact away. Someone who’s only influenced by American politics because it makes their sister’s online friends sad is not going to be privileged in that way.)

This means that American politics and their social climate overwhelmingly affects tumblr’s social climate. This also bleeds through into other fandom spaces, on twitter, instagram, and Pixiv to name a few places; but here’s where I spend the majority of my time so here’s what I’ve witnessed.

America’s main religion, as far as I understand (from the raised agnostic and currently neopagan view I have), is some weirdass capitalistic-Protestantism that is so many miles from what the actual Bible says that if I were a betting man and knew more about cults than I did, I’d say it’s some weird fucking cult and never set foot in the country again for any reason that isn’t gaming free shipping through a PO box. If you have no idea what I just said but are at least vaguely familiar with Christianity, this graphic explains it pretty well. So we can see there’s some glaring issues with that ideal.

The decline of queer oppression and the rise of queer rights in North America, which is to tenderly include my own country but we all know when people say ‘in NA’ they mean ‘America, and Canada where it applies because the right-wing Republicans are really good in the propaganda department to convince everyone that Mexico is a drug-lords-and-anarchy wasteland to the point where even I don’t actually know what’s down there other than bad drivers and heat’; means two things. One, it’s a good thing by a long shot and do not mistake this as me thinking queer oppression being lessened is a bad thing. But two, it means that thanks to the AIDS crisis, queer folks lost a lot of first-person sources as history.

The queer elders in NA who survived are typically either a) bitter anarchists who are often POC, probably still dirt poor and do recreational drugs or b) university-tenured TERFs (trans exclusionary radical feminists). Category A are the people who Republicans have deemed worthless in every way, because racism, queerphobia, ableism, and all the other ways to be wrong and different and Evil that they can’t handle, because Jeezus would never want them to actually learn to love someone who wasn’t just like them, and they don’t have the compassion to do better. Category B are the people who want to be different in just a teensie little bit, typically with TERFs they want to be lesbians, but they don’t want to challenge the status quo. They’re fine with the way things work, they just want to be on top oppressing others over ripping the whole damn thing down and building a more forgiving system.

Now, due to all those ‘isms and the cheerfully malicious aid of the Republicans, pun not intended but drives home the cruelty of it all, we also see the rise of helicopter parenting. The invention of the internet did not really help this. Basically what you’ve got is a whole bunch of parents who saw the civil rights movement, just got access to the internet and things going viral, know the world is changing, and like all parents, they’re scared for their children. Now instead of parents knowing one or two people in their classes who just went missing one day and everyone assumed they ran away, they hear about eight homicides in the city of kids going to parks at night and dying. The Satanic Panic was another event around this time that contributed to that, but I’ll let you research that one.

This means that all of these parents, instead of doing what their parents typically did and let their kids wander off for the day so long as they’re back by sundown, they can’t let their children out of their sight. There might be a freak accident where their child is decapitated on the playground swing! Their baby might get murdered by an evil Satanist walking home from school! Their dearest darling might go online and tell their address to someone who’s got a 100% chance of being a pedophile who will show up and kidnap them in the night!

…You get the idea. 

Combine those three things I just established, what we’ve got is a lot of queer kids who have a lot of internalized shame for being different and wrong, because they’re queer, and they can’t find spaces offline to be themselves, because all of the elders who would do that are dead and/or inaccessible and their parents won’t let them go to any clubs that aren’t school-related, which they’ll never find a GSA or queer club because Republicans, ‘isms, propaganda, and the war on Category A queer adults have all done their best to ensure that those spaces don’t exist.

So you have a generation of kids who I am the youngest of. The first generation on the internet. The late Web 1.0 (usenets and Geocities) and early Web 2.0 (livejournal was the big one, ff.net too, also 4chan but fuck those guys) generation. What we were taught was: trust nobody on the internet with your real info no matter how much you like them, this is a wilderness and any crimes that happen won’t be punished or seen so don’t put yourself in a position where you’re going to be the victim of one, and everything you put online is never getting taken down so don’t put anything up that you’re not willing to have on the front page of your local newspaper.

This worked out pretty well, actually! You had kids who knew that if they got in trouble, there was no backup coming to save them. Because the form that backup might take - parents and police - wasn’t going to help. Best case, they’d be banned from their friends and online support groups for being queer. Worst case, they’d be jailed and put in juvie and conversion therapy and turn to drugs and become evil Satanists just like everyone says they secretly are already. So they learned very quickly to take care of themselves. Nobody was going to save them, so they learned to not need saving.

And then, well, Web 2.0 shifted to Web 3.0. Livejournal died because parents - the Warriors for Innocence was the big name - went “gasp how horrible my children are being exposed to the evil pedos and homosexuals they’re going to do drugs and die of AIDS!”. Which is uh. It’s filled with a lot of bigotry, and I’m not excusing them - absolutely I am not - but you can kind of see where they’re coming from, if you tilt your head and squint.

Either way, LJ died, tumblr took its place, Facebook was fast taking off, and the fandom folks who had seen mailing lists go inactive, web admins take their fanfic sites down due to copyright, entire fandoms burnt to the ground in flame wars, said ‘fuck that we’re making our own place’ and that’s how AO3 got made.

That’s important. A lot of folks move to AO3, because well, the rules let them. The rules say ‘you can throw literally anything up here so long as it’s fan content and is not literally illegal, so we don’t get taken down’. It’s a swing for the first generation internet users, those kids who know this place is a wilderness and are carving out our own sanctuary.

But. The children under us. The children for whom AIDS is a nightmarish fairy tale, for whom the ghost stories are conversion therapy, for whom know they can’t really talk to their parents about being queer but can trust they probably won’t get kicked out over it. The children who haven’t spent ten seconds without supervision except online, and their reaction isn’t ‘oh thank god I’m finally free to express myself’ but ‘if I get in trouble, who will protect me?’.

And there’s nobody there. Because we went in knowing there was no backup. And that was fine. But now, the actual adults have figured out that hey uh, maybe we should make cyber laws? Maybe we should make revenge porn and grooming children over the internet crimes? And they grew up with that. They grew up learning that no, even if your parents are suffocating and controlling, they’re always be there for you! Some adult will always be there to protect you!

That isn’t the case. It’s not. But they expect it, because it’s always been done for them. They don’t really want to change the status quo, because that means doing it themselves. They can’t do that, because they don’t know how, they’ve been controlled for every single part of their lives thanks to helicopter parenting and without that control, they don’t know how to keep their lives together, and they demand someone come and control it for them, without restraining them.

Effectively, they want someone to ensure they never face the consequences of their actions. Helicopter parents will rescue you from whatever you did, because you’re their precious baby and it doesn’t matter if you punched a kid, you can do no wrong and the other kid clearly started it.

But being queer is doing wrong. Being queer is something Jeezus doesn’t approve of. So they want to make it something he could approve of! But if it’s too off what they consider to be okay, if it’s too different and weird and wrong and evil, that can’t do, that’s still bad, and they’re precious angels, and children, and minors, why are we the adults not protecting them and letting them see it? Why aren’t we being just like their parents  but queer-friendly, why aren’t we protecting the children?

The adults who taught us were the children of those who died as a result of AIDS. The eldest of my generation knew some of them personally. My therapist’s younger brother died at 20 of AIDS, and she told me what it was like. But they don’t have that. These kids of web 3.0, they don’t have that. What they have is over-controlling parents, and the expectation that someone will always be there to protect them but hopefully in ways that don’t hurt them this time, no real understanding of why Category A queer elders are the way they are, and so much internalized shame that they have to do some pretty fancy logic-leaping to keep them from collapsing entirely.

They can’t turn into Category A queer youngsters, because they don’t know how to unravel the system around them, because they’ve never had to actually make choices in their lives and live with the consequences, because they don’t have the example of how to do it. They can’t unravel their internalized shame because again, that’s hard and they don’t have their parents to take away the consequences and pain. It doesn’t come easy to them, so it may as well not come at all.

But, you ask, if Category A queer elders aren’t around to teach the kids, then how are they learning anything positive at all? Well, Category B, our university-tenured TERFs, who don’t want to change the status quo but want to just be at the top of it instead.

For a lot of kids who don’t know how to make hard choices but want to be queer, this is an extremely attractive option. But when they go online to queer spaces, a lot of them say fuck terfs, we don’t support your hate, and they go ‘yeah okay that makes sense’. They can say fuck terfs without ever actually questioning why terfs are bad. They’re Bad and Evil, just like drug addicts, just like fairytale nazis, just like the evil homophobes.

And we saw them say ‘yeah fuck terfs’ and we were like, ‘aight you got it’ and we never questioned if they actually understood us. They didn’t. They didn’t, and we didn’t do enough to fix it, because not enough of us realized the problem. So terfs got a little sneaky. They hid behind dogwhistles and easy little comments, hiding their rhetoric in queer theory that you’ll absolutely miss if you just memorize it and never actually question it and understand why that point is being made.

This goes back to America sucking, because their school system is far more focused on rote memorization over actual logic and understanding of the text. They’re engaging with queer theory the way they’ve been taught, which is memorize and don’t think, don’t question. Besides, questioning and understanding is hard. Being shown different points of view and asked what they think is not only hard but requires them to go against all of the conditioning that says to just listen and agree and never question it, which goes back to tearing the system and internalized shame down, and we’ve established they can’t do that so naturally they don’t do that.

This begets, then, the rise of exclusionary politics. They’re turning into Category B queer youngsters, because we told them ‘hey that’s a terf talking point what are you doing’ and they never questioned why. They learned you can do all sorts of things, just don’t say X, Y, or Z, because they never thought deeply about it.

The children who have grown on Web 3.0 do not want to do any heavy lifting to make things easier for themselves long-run. They want to do as little as possible and have things get better for them. There isn’t enough of us left in Category A, because Category B terfs are very good at recruiting young folks and Cat. A is overwhelming poor, dead, and easily dismissed in the system as evil and bad, so we can’t exactly convince the young folks to listen. If all of the young kids could agree to tear down the system, a lot more older folks might listen. Change always starts with the young, and there’s a reason for that.

But Republicans have figured out, if you get people fighting, they never put together a force that can actually stop you. TERFs, who want the exact same thing as Republicans but with themselves on top, are doing this to queer youth, and Cat. A elders can’t fight back because there isn’t enough of them and the odds are against them, and the young folk like me who follow their lead.

People can kinda handle gay people. It’s not so far from the acceptable normal that it’s impassable. But you want them to handle kinky people? Gay people of colour? Kinky gay people of colour? Trans people? Those are bridges too far to step across. The original idea was to get the foot in the door with marriage equality and inch our way through with racial equality, sex positivity, dismantling ableism and perisexism (forgive me if that isn’t the word for anti-intersex ‘ism), and see if we can’t patch up the system instead of inciting a civil war over this and have to tear down the system entirely.

Well, we might’ve managed that if not for AIDS being the perfect ‘Jeezus is killing all the evil gay people for being sinners’ propaganda machine. As it stands now, not a chance in hell. So long as Republicans and terfs keep everyone fighting, nobody has the power to dismantle their empire, and they stay in power.

So then, you ask me, “Lu what the fuck does that have to do with the decline of otherkinity on tumblr???” and now that you’ve got all that background knowledge, here is your answer.

Those children who want their experiences curated for them and the evil icky content they don’t like to be gone because it disgusts them and anything that disgusts them is clearly sinful problematic and should be destroyed, are what we call ‘antishippers’, or anti for short.

They like being progressive. Sort of. They learned what Republicans and terfs have honed to a fine talent: keep people fighting, hold them to a bar they have to constantly make or risk being ostracized, and harass the people who don’t play along into getting out of your sight forever. Sound familiar?

They learned of otherkinity, and particularly fictionkind, because web 3.0 means if something goes viral on one site, it doesn’t just go viral on that site, it makes it to worldwide newspapers and twitter and nobody ever, ever fucking forgets it. They realized the following: “Hey wait, if I’m this character for realsies, not only does it help me deal with the internalized shame I’ve done nothing to actually fix because that takes work, I can also tell these people who draw gross content I don’t like they’re hurting me personally, and that actually sounds credible, and I can shame them into stopping”.

If this is your first time here and that sounds sickening, it damn well should, and I am so, so sorry that any of us had to witness this, and I am more sorry I and everyone else who personally witnessed this didn’t realize what was going on and put a stop to it. I answer asks and browse the tags and clear up misinformation and it isn’t just a genuine desire to help. It’s damage control, and my own way of trying to deal with the guilt of not stopping this. I’m well aware I couldn’t have seen it coming, I was a teenager myself still learning and no one person has that much power. I still feel like I should have done more, and I’ll do what I can to fix what’s within my power to fix.

So back to the story. This all culminates around 2016 or so. Trump wins the election, and every queer person ever knows they’re fucked, and the younger generation’s only ever heard horror stories, never seen actual oppression that this could bring. We’re all scared. We all don’t know what to do. Nobody has any answers or any control over the situation.

So they lash out. They attack others for drawing things they don’t like, for challenging them in literally any way, for asking them to reconsider the vile shit they just said, for so much as defending themselves from the harassment they just got. And when challenged, they yell “But I’m a minor! A literal child! How dare you attack me, clearly you get off on this, you evil pedophile!” and they sling around every insult in the book until one sticks. Pedophile is a pretty good one, so is abuser, and sometimes zoophile works out too. Freak is great, everyone gets right pissed off about it.

The fact that Category A queer elders were called pedophiles and freaks is not a fact they know or care about. The fact that they are quickly making every fandom community super toxic is also not a fact they care about. The fact that the ‘kin community has words and terminology and they actually mean shit, and the fact that they’re spreading misinformation faster than we can keep up with, are not facts they care about.

So they come in, take our terms, make it impossible for us to find new folks. They realize our anger is easily a power trip, because we’re already made fun of, so they get off on the little power they can find and make fun of us too, and then when we get rightfully annoyed and pissed off, they can hide behind being minors.

Then tumblr implements their porn ban, because nobody’s stopping them, because it isn’t profitable to have porn on here. Considering most of the otherkin community, and most fandom communities, are full of adults who do occasionally talk about NSFW things, and the fact that they’re just banning everyone who so much as breathes wrong, this begins the start of a mass exodus, scattering already fragile communities to twitter, pillowfort, dreamwidth, and a few other places. Largely, twitter, where you can’t make a post longer than a snappy comeback and where the algorithm is literally designed to piss you off as much as possible.

So community elders have largely left, because they can’t stand the drama and the pain of what’s happened, and that’s if they didn’t get banned for being kinky furries who do talk about how their kintypes merge with their sexuality. Most community members have also left or stopped talking about being ‘kin, because they get associated with antishippers and toxicity and it’s just not worth it. Those of us who are left get drowned out by misinformation and trolls and wishkin and antishippers who appropriate our terminology because it supports them getting a power trip, and whenever we argue, we get called pedophiles and freaks and worse.

And now there isn’t much left. I hope we get to find a better place. Othercon was a good place to talk about it, I did a whole panel (it’s on Youtube!) about what we want to do about it. But I don’t really have any answers. 

But to sum it all up... America’s political climate ultimately culminated in destroying queer spaces, and we survived, and then people who wanted to destroy smaller communities to get on top showed up and we were all but defenseless against something we had never, ever dealt with before on this scale.

One of my twitter mutuals mentioned how kinning and otherkin are now completely separate communities. It’s really the best I can do to keep hoping that continues, until nobody realizes the words are at all connected to each other. It’s the best anyone can hope for, now. I hate it. I hate every part of this. But maybe we can salvage what’s left.

[c-is-for-circinate]

So uh, would the end of runs count as an escalation of the abuse? Like Ik it's a last resort to stop Zagreus from leaving, but it also shows that he has no qualms with hurting Zag to get what he wants.

I definitely had not yet gotten to the end of a run when you sent this ask, nonny, and I was all set to scold you gently for spoilery stuff, but you were actually trying very hard to be nonspecific and this only pinged as a spoiler because I was already pretty sure how things were going to end anyway.  So good job trying to be vague!  I have now fought through to what is fairly clearly the final boss, and my answer is, categorically, ABSOLUTELY FUCKING YES.

(We are going to just keep putting Hades posts under cuts until they stop being about a parent abusing their kid! I realize this helps nobody on mobile and I am tagging for that purpose but hey, at least I might save someone's dash! I swear I will talk about other things in this game eventually! Until then, once again, CW abuse.)

It’s not even about the violence, entirely.  Like, yes, it’s about the violence--but Hades has shown all along that he has no qualms with hurting Zag (with killing him, over and over again) to get what he wants.  Even if we take most of the enemies we’re facing as general nuisances of the zones we travel through, and not Hades’ doing (and oh, if Hades wanted he could give Zagreus a safe escort through those zones in an instant), there are obstacles put in our way that are obviously and deliberately commanded by Hades to stop us at all costs.  The level bosses, for one.  (Also, remember the Hades voiceovers we get at every ‘survive for 45 seconds’ level?)  He wants us to stop.  He wants us to die, and yes we’ll come back, but he’s still setting his employees to hurt us, so like, that’s very much a thing to begin with.

The fact that he’s willing to take up arms against us and kill us himself probably feels like a big escalation to Hades personally.  What really gets me is the dialogue.  “I have always kept my temper, unlike you.”  Wildly revisionist history, placing all of the blame for what’s about to happen on Zagreus the victim for ‘making me do this’. The absolute disgust and disdain, when he finally gets us.  “I have slain titans, boy.”  He’s spent a lot of time throwing scathing remarks in our general direction, wanting us to bow under them, being blandly sarcastic and self-satisfied and smug, but he's never sounded like that.

Because, before now, he thought we couldn’t do what we set out to do.  He thought our suffering as we tried was its own punishment, and he enjoyed watching that punishment.  He did not watch us fail with the affectionate resignation of a parent watching a child learn a harsh lesson.  He watched us and gloated. 

The thing that infuriates him now is not that we’re trying to do the thing we literally said we were trying to do ninety-eight runs ago at the start of the game.  He could have stopped us from trying at any time.  Hypnos to put us to sleep.  Literal chains.  Had he bothered for five seconds to actually step into the courtyard beyond our room, we could be disarmed and helpless.  But it’s fun for him to watch us fail, and it proves that he’s right about us and how pathetic we are, and it reassures him that he’s right about the universe, that nobody can escape from Hades, that we are stupid and foolish and weak.  What drives him to such absolute fury now is not that we’re trying, but the fact that we’re about to succeed.  We’re going to prove him wrong, prove that he was wrong about how he handled this situation in the first place, and that’s flatly unacceptable. 

There is no interpretation of this fight that does not include Hades wanting us to feel inferior, subjugated, crushed.  It’s not about keeping us in his realm.  It’s about breaking us, for daring to try to escape in the first place.

No matter why he’s doing it.  And let’s get into that for a sec, the “it’s a last resort to stop Zagreus from leaving” bit.  At this point in the game, I don’t know why Hades is so desperate to stop Zag from leaving.  I haven’t found out yet!  Don’t tell me!  Don’t hint about it!  But from where I’m standing, I can see, hmm, five main possibilities?

He is trying to protect Zagreus from something on the surface.

He is trying to protect the world from Zagreus, whose arrival out of hell will destroy something/everything in some magic way that Hades knows about but keeps secret.

Zagreus is actually a prisoner, meant to be chained in the Underworld for crimes he doesn’t remember committing, Tisiphone is right, and we were meant to be as condemned as Sisyphus all along but Hades has been generous.

Hades made it law a long time ago that nobody and nothing escapes the Underworld, and Zagreus cannot be allowed to break that law because nobody breaks Hades’ laws, period.  He could have chosen to make an exception but he did not, so all of this is flagrantly illegal and needs to be punished.

Hades himself is trapped in the Underworld, or at least feels that way, and is projecting and taking it out on his kid.

My best guess is that it’s some combination of a few of those (like, I am fairly sure that #5 is absolutely true no matter what other reasons are in place as well).  Thing is?  While I’m curious about this mystery for the story’s sake, I also really fundamentally do not care.

Any one of these things could better have been accomplished by telling Zagreus literally anything.  Even if there’s magic and prophecy bullshit binding Hades away from explaining the whole truth, it is not hard to hint at vague disaster befalling innocent bystanders “because of cosmic reasons I am beholden to keep secret”.  Hell, Hades’ own life becomes easier if he restrains himself just the tiniest bit in an effort to make Zagreus not want to leave in the first place.  Hades clearly does not want this to be happening!  He doesn’t seem to regret any of his actions, but he sure is annoyed and infuriated that he has to go through the trouble of doing them.  Literally one explanation could solve so much.

If the reason is to protect Zagreus?  Then it is one thousand times bullshit, and I think the game knows that.  (The game has to know that.)  When your kid is so miserable that they’d rather flee straight into traffic to escape you, then your kid is not safe.  Nothing that could hurt him on the surface--finding out that Persephone doesn’t love him and never did and in fact wants him dead and tortured for eternity--is any worse than what he’s facing down here.  He already knows one parent feels that way.  At least out of the Underworld he has the option to find some relatives who don’t.

And yet this situation doesn’t ping the “stupid plot that could never happen because it entirely rests on unrealistically shitty communication” sensors.  Because it absolutely, categorically makes sense for the Hades we’ve come to know to refuse to explain himself.  Whether he’s got good reasons or bad ones, HIS WORD IS LAW, and how dare anybody ask him to justify or clarify it, ever.

I am very very sure that Hades has lots of reasons: reasons for being furious, and bitter, and for making rules about his son never leaving the Underworld, and for being so desperate to enforce those rules, and for all of it.  Some of them may even be good.  What makes him an abuser, what those reasons do not and cannot justify, is the verbal and physical violence he uses against the people in his care to cope with those problems.

[todourouki]

Misery Business | K. Bakugou

a one shot

✰ SUMMARY the one where you didn’t mean to take the hothead away from his girlfriend, but you did anyway. It was nothing personal, you just knew that Bakugou Katsuki deserved way better than what he was settling for.

PAIRING Taken/Pro-Hero!Bakugou & Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT 4.6K

WARNINGS explicit language, mentions of cheating, cheating lol, suggestive language, angst, and some fluff at the end bc I cannot end my fics in a bad way I am weak sorry!

You were not a home wrecker.

At least, you wouldn’t say that to your own face.

You knew that the crush you had on Bakugou was wrong. You know that no matter how it is that you put it, or however strong your feelings are, or even however long you’ve even had feelings— liking a guy in a relationship was a huge no-no.

You weren’t the kind of girl to go around liking a girl’s boyfriend, though. It’s not like your feelings magically appeared out of thin air and now you’re stuck falling inlove with a guy that finds solitude in someone else— no, you aren’t like that.

Your feelings for Bakugou are much more complex, to say the least.

It all started in high school, when just the mere thought of the boy brought butterflies to your stomach with how strong and courageous he was. From his attractive face, to his blunt and explosive personality, you always found yourself admiring him when given the chance.

All of that went to shit when he decided to finally give one of the girls that were always fawning over him a chance during the beginning of your third year attending Yuuei Academy.

It was like you had gotten punched in the face, and now it feels like you’re just purposely getting stabbing in the heart every time you did as much as look at them.

That definitely explains why you’re sulking at your table during a school dance with a scowl on your face so you don’t have to see the happy couple waltz around the cafeteria floor.

All the top Pro-Heroes were assigned to attend the dance as academy alumni in order to ensure the safety of the students (as well as make sure students even decided to show up). You, being one of the top five heroes, were ordered to show up with no complaints.

The song currently playing finally changed from a low-tempo song to a much higher one, and with that, you decided to make that your imaginary queue to take a walk around the school’s building before returning to the large decorated area.

Your heel-clad feet dragged you all the way across the gymnasium, sending kids smiles if they were in your way and simply telling them that you were “getting some fresh air before the real fun starts.”

The doors slammed shut, and the solitude of the hallways engulfed in dark hues reflected against your strained eyes in a way that made you have to physically restrain your hand from harshly rubbing at it in order to make sure your make up stood intact.

The halls reminded you of a younger you (and by younger, you mean two years. you’re only 20 and already have the mind of some old hag) that used to run through these halls with a mini little green skirt and an imagination you wish you could still understand.

They also reminded you of the blond boy inside. Especially the room you stood in front of right now.

Almost as if it was second nature, your body made its way to Class 1-A: the place where it all began, the place where you met your closest friends, and the place where you fell inlove.

Opening the door, the lights turned on to reveal a classroom almost identical to the one you walked into every day four years ago. The desks were positioned the same, the posters remained in the same spot, and even the words on the chalkboard seemed oddly familiar.

The room reeked of new paint and textbook papers, and the only thing you really wanted to smell was the designer perfume clinging helplessly to your body so the odors of a high school class don’t even think twice about sticking to you.

Your body walked towards your old desk, Seat 12, the dress you wore clinging to your body as you pulled the chair out and nostalgically sat down. You were a first year all over again, and the thought made you laugh.

You looked embarrassing your first year— as embarrassing as someone who looks like you now can get. From the hideously overheated hair, to the emo phase you still seemed to sort of be stuck in, the world seemed too easy no matter what bullshit was going on the minute you sat down at that desk.

That explained how you felt now— no matter how much your heart yearned to be in the hands of Bakugou, the minute the cold sturdiness of the chair touched your warm body, all of that disappeared. For once, nothing in the world mattered. More precisely, Bakugou didn’t matter.

“Tch, I knew you’d be in here.” Annnddd there goes that.

Your eyes widened, now staring at a smirking blond wearing a black and white tux instead of the chalkboard you once zoned out on.

His arms were crossed against his muscular chest, and the muscles outlined the button up shirt in a way that should just be downright illegal. His face was gleaming with mischief, slowly walking his way over to the empty desk directly next to yours, taking a seat, and positioning his body in a lazy manner with his legs propped up against the table. Just like before.

“You know, this brings back a lot of shitty memories.” He grunted, stretching his arms behind his head and lolling his head to face you.

You nodded in response, glancing your head up to look at the lights in a way to move the gears in your brain to say something. Literally the same thing you used to do during Midnight’s long, tedious classes.

“Yea, a bunch of ones I’d much rather forget.” You said, looking over at him and watching as his eyes stared directly at the window you always found him staring out of when he wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone in class.

“Always hearing your annoying ass mumble and suck your teeth used to really piss me off.” His words were masked with seriousness, trying to hide the playful smirk on his lips you identified much too quickly. With that, a scoff left your lips and you crossed your arms.

“Nobody said anything about the pencil you insisted on tapping for hours straight.” Your jab back made him chuckle, looking back at you with vermillion eyes that made you lose all sense of feelings.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you always forgot what it was like to look at anything before you looked into his eyes. That’s how scary it was— how intimidating it was to be under his presence. His eyes captured you, holding you hostage and probably never letting you go.

“At least we didn’t sit next to each other during our third year,” he began, placing a hand loosely around his tie as he continued to look at you in your eyes, “I don’t think I would have ever focused with the humming you did to the same damn song every day.”

“Yeah, instead of me though, you ended up sitting with your future wife.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid, STUPID.

It was like word vomit, the snarky tone slipping through your lips as if it was trying its hardest to come off in a jokingly manner, only ending up appearing as sarcastic as possible. It was like the words fell from your tongue quicker than you could punch your own esophagus.

Bakugou stood quiet for a moment, staring at you and knitting his eyebrows together as if deep in thought. Your eyes ended up leading you back to the words Relief Fund written messily against the green chalkboard to save your embarrassment.

You didn’t see the frown itching across Bakugou’s lips.

“We aren’t married, ya know. I don’t know why people decided to start that rumor.” He said, a sigh passing by his lips to quiet his tone as if he was scared his girlfriend was around to hear it.

“Might as well marry her. You’re not really the kind of guy that dates just to date.” Your words struck hesitantly in the room in a timid yet informative voice, and Bakugou watched the board as well so that you were both avoiding each other’s gaze.

“Yeah well I’m not sure, marriage is a big deal.” Bakugou was muttering, and the tone of his voice made you crane your neck over to where he was seated as you stood quiet.

What were you, someone who was basically inlove with him, supposed to say that?

You both stood in silence for a few seconds, the words in your throat itching to escape as the remnants of memories you both had both in class and just together in general filled your vision.

“I always hated this seat because I knew it meant that I would always be the person you would argue with.” You began, closing your eyes and releasing a strained scoff from your glossed lips.

You didn’t know what you were doing, or what you were talking about, but as the moon danced across the pale boy’s face and the music in the cafeteria continued to gently ring through the halls, the only thing you were thinking about doing was speaking more than you ever have.

“Morning after morning, I grew used to your loud voice and extremely hostile—” “HAH? I was NOT—”

You sent him a glare, immediately cutting him off and proceeding your weird speech that just couldn’t let anything go.

“Anyways, morning after morning, I ended up looking forward to the words you decided to call me and yell at me about for the day. It’s like, if it didn’t happen,” your arms moved in an animated way, catching Katsuki’s full attention as he looked on to your rant, “I felt like my day wasn’t really an actual day, ya know?

The one thing you loved appreciated most about Bakugou was his ability to listen. And when you say listen, you mean just listen. His ears were perked up in your direction, shoes turned towards you and eyes watching your movements like a hawk.

“And then—” you gulped, pausing for a second in order to think your words though. It was always now or never to you, the drama giving you a sense of hope against a man like that.

It’s either I bring it up now, or I never get to speak my peace, and I refuse to be one of those people showing up to the wedding yelling ‘I oppose.’

“And then it was here that I realized I was the biggest idiot alive by feeling the way I felt about this one person.” You said, eyes glaring at the wall in front of you blankly as you cowered behind the whisps of your lashes.

Bakugou said nothing, but from the corner of you eye, you could see him staring at the side of your face with an expression you had never really see on him.

“I spent years pining after some dumbass that didn’t even see the genuine interest I had in him.” Your words were like alcohol, and Bakugou was too busy drinking them all in to fully acknowledge what you were talking about.

“I watched him give in to this one girl though,” a lightbulb when off in the boy’s head and for once, he felt like the idiot in the room, “a girl that doesn’t even care for him.”

“Y/N..” Bakugou growled, almost as if he was threatening you and warning you to tread on light waters.

If there was one thing he ever respected about you though, it was that you were never scared of him.

Your eyes snapped towards him, a scowl on your face as you began to feel anger bubbling up in your stomach from the way he tried to shut you up. You were finally speaking your peace and he’s too much of a coward to let you finish?

“You know, I thought the first red flag of her trying to change his attitude was enough. I thought that maybe, just maybe, after her telling him that being number one hero wasn’t really tangible, he’d have some common fucking sense and see what everyone else sees.” Your words were like venom, your eyes not leaving his as you huffed in your seat.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Bakugou’s voice was low and angry, laced with anger as he stared at you just as intensely as you stared at him. Your expression never faltered, and instead, you turned your entire body around in the chair to fully face him with arms across your chest.

“I know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about,” you taunted, your anger only rising in value, “and so the fuck do you, Bakugou.”

“You know she doesn’t give a fuck about you and you know very fucking well she’s only with you because you’re Bakugou Katsuki!”

His name slipping off your tongue brought shivers to his spine as he sat up in his seat and glared at you with the tip of his ears painting themselves a light red hue.

He was angry— not necessarily at you, but at the fact that he was getting called out for something like this. He was getting called out for finally being with a girl and was getting shit for it from someone he saw as a best friend.

“You don’t know shit— you don’t even fucking know her.” His voice began to get louder, the bass in his voice causing your heart to vibrate as you shocked both you and him by slamming a hand against the desk in frustration.

“For God’s sake, Katsuki open your fucking eyes!” You only used his first name when your emotions were high, and that made the man’s hands shake in anger as he watched your outburst.

“She forgot your anniversary! She doesn’t make you your favorite food— fuck she doesn’t even kiss you unless there’s a shitty camera around!” You stood up, stomping your feet and watching as he stood up quickly after you and scowled over at your angry face.

“She doesn’t care enough to remember shit that you don’t like which is why you always end up at stupid shit like this and she doesn’t even care to meet your friends!” Your voice was now loud, the music of the cafeteria being long forgotten as you huffed over at him and slammed a finger into his chest at every syllable you spoke.

“You want to know what I think about her, Bakugou? Bestfriend to bestfriend?” The words bestfriend seethed through your lips like venom as your finger dug itself into the middle of his pecks. He said nothing, waiting for you to continue as his hands balled into fists along his sides.

“I think that you’re such a fucking pussy, you can’t fathom being with someone who doesn’t worship the ground you walk on the way she does.” You growled, narrowing your eyes at his angry expression as you took a step closer to him threateningly.

“I think you hate the fact that I’m right— the fact that she blatantly uses you and doesn’t give a fuck about you, and you hate the fact that I know you so well enough to know that—”

Before the last few letters of the words could slip through your lips, a warm hand slammed against your fingers and snatched it into his grasp as he began to huff in anger. The caramel smell only increased, and you could sense his quirk begin to flare the abnormal heat in his hands up every second.

“You don’t know shit,” he growled, his voice raising as he began to yell at you in your face, “you don’t know shit about me!”

“Are you shitting me?!” You exclaimed, grabbing at the hand that grasped yours with a grip so tight Bakugou had to glance at it quickly before reverting his eyes back to yours.

“I’ve known every little fucking thing about you since we were fifteen!” You yelled, tears threatening to spill down your eyes as the anger inside you finally erupted in a way you couldn’t control.

“Nobody asked you to be so invested in my fucking life anyway!” He retaliated, his voice booming through the room as you stared at him incredulously.

“I was so fucking invested in you because I’m fucking inlove with you, you idiot!”

Your voice silenced the room, the grip he had on your hand tightening as he stared at you with shocked eyes yet the same familiar scowl you were used to. Your expression never faltered the way his eyes did when he heard you, though. You stood your ground.

“It’s so annoying seeing the guy you are inlove with be so unhappy in a relationship because he feels as if he has no one else.” Your voice began to quiet down, a tear slipping down your eye as Bakugou watched you with a slightly softened face.

The hand gripping yours loosened a bit, still gripping it to his chest as he wrapped all his fingers around your bracelet covered wrist.

“It’s so annoying watching you try to force someone else to fall inlove with you, when I’ve been inlove with you for free for years. It hurts watching you try to force yourself to be inlove with a girl you know you don’t want to be with. It just fucking hurts Bakugou, so fucking bad.”

There was a crack in your voice that Bakugou knew all too well from the restless nights you’d spend together, and it didn’t take much for him to engulf your frame into a tight hug as he rested his head against yours. You dived into his chest, the familiar warmth wrapping around you in a way that made a few more tears slip from your eyes. You didn’t make a noise, but he knew that you were hurting.

Neither of you said anything, only holding each other until you removed yourself from him and wiped the tears off your face before he could see the evident streams marking your cheeks. He stared at you silently, as if he was contemplating something.

With timid eyes, he watched you fix the straps of your dress to find something to play with under his gaze. The silence was deafening, and was an unusual characteristic for the boy who always had something to say.

“You know she hates me, that’s why you never bring her around me.” You said, a tone of blankness carrying your voice through the room as your tears dried up and was replaced by the anger haunting your heart once again.

“No she doesn’t, she just feels like we’re too close.” Bakugou retorted, sighing and taking a seat on the chair he once occupied. You followed suit, leaning against the back of your own seat as you faced his body.

“Back in high school, I never told you this, but her and I argued in the bathroom once.” You informed, dryly chuckling as you watched his face contort with confusion.

“I told her that her pretty little face and fucked up manipulation wasn’t going to keep you around in the long run.” You stood quiet after letting him know, gulping some saliva down as you averted your gaze from his body to your painted nails. “Guess I was wrong.”

Bakugou didn’t know what to do. There were many things the man was capable of: he could destroy any villain in his way, was braver than any other fucking half assed hero out there, was smart as fuck, and could manage a relationship as well as being a top pro-hero because that’s just who he was.

What he couldn’t do, though, was fully digest the situation in front of him.

He bit his lip, running a hand across his face in frustration and staring meekly at your face. You couldn’t help but admire his frame as you did before. He was strong, well-built, smelled good, had great posture— there was nothing wrong with him. It was almost surreal.

“We’ve been dating for like two years.” Bakugou’s low voice broke the silence as he stared deep into your now glazed over eyes. You didn’t break the contact, hands rested against each side of the seat as you watched him speak.

“I’ve been dating her for two years and yet...” His words were lost, almost sounding as if he was hesitating the very same way you were earlier. You said nothing though, knowing he would stop expressing himself if you had opened your mouth.

“And yet I can’t help but imagine she was someone else.”

It was like every word he said was the last glass of water, and you drank it up against your skin in a way that brought goosebumps to his. You furrowed your eyebrows, silently signaling for him to continue.

“I never told you this,” he mocked your voice, his scowl still resting against his soft face, “but there was a time where I thought about what it would be like if we were a shitty thing.”

Everyone always assumed Bakugou and you would end up together. Whether it be from watching you both pin are each other relentlessly, to watching you fawn over him, and from just watching your interactions with one another— it almost seemed destined for you two to work out. Keyword: almost.

“Shitty Hair and Dunce-Face tell me all the fucking time that I’m an idiot for choosing this girl over you.” He scoffed, and you couldn’t help but feel your stomach tingle at the use of the name ‘this girl’ for his own girlfriend. “It’s not like I wanted to, you were always my first option.”

You stood quiet. The last sentence was lower than the others and sounded way more vulnerable. You couldn’t help but gape at him, repeating it in your brain as if they was the last words you’d ever hear again. You were always my first option.

Maybe it was the buzz you felt from the energy within the room, maybe you were drunk on adrenaline, or maybe you were just being a fucking dumbass, but the way your feet moved you from your seat to the desk he was sitting at was something you just couldn’t stop in time.

Bakugou hasn’t said anything beyond what he just finished as he watched you gently push his body away and hop up onto the desk. Your body was now inches away from his as you watched him shyly. You were always so obnoxiously close to him, so why is it that his stomach was throwing fireballs at his insides now?

“You deserve better, Katsu..” You lowly began, fiddling with the rings on your fingers as you glanced over at his body through your dark eyelashes. “Does she take care of you?”

Your words hit him in the chest and he couldn’t find it within himself to look away from you. He wasn’t sure what it was, or how you were doing it, but he was entranced by your every word and it was scaring the shit out of him. He found himself shaking his head, eyes never leaving yours as the scowl in his face began to soften.

“You’re a strong man, Katsu,” the way his nickname slipped from your lips nearly made him melt, the unfamiliar feelings he was so used to suppressing caused his head to jumble around and process your words, “you need someone who takes care of you the right way.”

You watched him, a hand lifting towards his head and running itself through his soft yet spikey hair. Bakugou always claimed he hated it when you played with his hair since that was something he thought no one was close enough to be able to touch, but he always seemed to lean into you unknowingly.

His chair scooted closer to the table, your legs now in between his lazily opened ones and his body aching to go closer into your touch.

“What are you suggesting?” His dark voice questioned, eyes staring at you as the once softened expression transformed into another of a slowly rising mischievous smirk. You were sure you were breathing earlier, but now? Not so much.

“Are you suggesting that I need someone else to take care of me?” His words hit you hard, your body facing whiplash from all the sudden changes of emotion.

You looked down shyly, trying to find the confidence you once had that was now lost in the gush of your flustered moment, yet Bakugou’s calloused, warm hand then reached up to your chin to perk it up to face his now standing body.

“Are you saying that you should be the one taking care of me?” He asked, staring at your eyes with more intensity than you were fully even prepared for. Your eyes dug into his as the feeling of his hands on your chin caused your brain to short circuit for a moment.

“You said it yourself, I’m a strong man.” You could feel the confidence drip from his words as you bit your left cheek to keep from whimpering at the intensity laced within the empty classroom. “I need someone to take care of me the right way, and I don’t think this girl is doing it Y/N.”

The use of your name caused you to tug your bottom lip between your teeth and blush behind his words. You didn’t miss the way his eyes quickly zipped from your eyes to your mouth, and back to your eyes once again. His body was now towering over your seated one, looking down at you as if you were the only person in the world at this moment.

Bakugou was out of it, to say the least. Usually he felt as if he had control over situations like this, but even with towering over your frame and his hand gripping your chin, he felt as if you were in complete control of the situation. He knew that his current girlfriend was probably coming to look for him, and he knew that everything was inevitable and he was simply just prolonging it.

That didn’t stop him from sliding his hand across your neck to grip the back of it and pull your face in towards him.

A kiss was the last thing you were expecting, and you would have gasped if his lips weren’t putting you in such a trance. It was like everything had stopped, time stopped, the dance stopped, everything was just on a hiatus.

His tongue danced against yours in a way that made you whimper lowly into his touch. His hands explored your body, rubbing against you in exasperated motions as you reciprocated by rubbing your hands across his chest, shoulders, and waist. It was like you were both doing the last thing you’d do before the world came to an end.

His lips moved feverishly across your own as tilted your head upwards to get a more comfortable position. A warm yet equally rough hand snaked it’s way back onto your neck and gripped your throat with such possession, you felt a tingle reach your lower half.

The intensity of the make out was one that put every other sound to shame as the room was filled with nothing but the small whimpers coming from either of you and the sound of your lips smacking against his. It was like a dream, and Bakugou couldn’t control himself any longer as he groaned into your touch.

It wasn’t until a gasp broke the seductive silence within the room, as well as pushed the two of you apart only to see his girlfriend staring at the two of you with wide eyes and a fizzy drink in both of her hands., that you realized something.

Shit just got really fucking complicated.

—

back to masterlist

I wanna have an angsty kiss moment with bakugou

>:( damnit anyways yeah like, reblog, comment, follow! thanks for reading! don’t forget to send some requests in <3

- heilly

[reveriequill-rai]

Shroud: Withered Soul

A/N: Sorry it’s been a while. As of right now I’ve just been uploading stories I’ve written in my newspaper club, and now that I’ve graduated I hope that can now expand to short stories generally. I’m not gonna promise that posts from now on will be more consistent, but I would like to at least speed up my uploads a bit before they actually wind down, as I imagine I will be working on more stories in the future. Everything being uploaded right now is previous work, but nothing too old--probably like, from last year tops. This was completed sometime in May, I believe. 

This is an introduction to a character I created called ‘Shroud,’ an amateur self-proclaimed ‘detective’ who exclusively investigates occult-based crimes and malefic.

Content Warning: death, descriptions of corpses, graphic descriptions of violence and pain, cults 

[My blog will usually contain PG-13 stories, and as of right now I am writing some darker content, but I will tag anything that may be especially disturbing or uncomfortable. I’ll include this warning in my bio, too.]

----------

The corpse in front of me wasn’t all that disturbing by itself. I had seen dead people before–comes with the territory. I had been dead before. Murder rates in Twilight were, naturally, much higher than any other district in New Fable–especially further south of the district where I was–considering how much wild magic was around, and not even the police force sent here from the northern district of Bastion could do anything about it. So the corpse itself didn’t bother me, all things considered.

What did disturb me, though, was a number of other things.

For one, the corpse just being there was a problem. They weren’t stopping, and they were getting far too close to home.

Its eyes were still open, for another thing, and nearly colorless, and looking at me specifically, and I can swear to you that had not happened when I first laid eyes on it. Even worse, like me, the man lying dead in front of me appeared to be wearing a few bandages like I was, perhaps just recovering from an injury.

And for yet another thing, and perhaps the worst part of this, was the connection I felt with this dead man. Something about the state he was in struck a familiar chord that only I and a select unlucky others knew. As if we were kindred spirits–undergoing the same fate, yet with (probably) different outcomes.

I had been at this–whatever you would call tracking down cults as someone with zero prior detective experience with the help of almost no one–for…a few months now? And I’ve made a bit less progress than would be expected from someone who has seen just about everything the darker sides of magic had to offer. I did have one solid lead, though, and hopefully one that would lead me to exactly who I was looking for.

“Everyone move,” I ordered, pushing my way through the crowd.

Ignoring their complaints, I made my way over toward the body and began to examine it, hoping for any hint of who had done this, and more importantly, if it was exactly who I had suspected. There didn’t appear to be much damage, but what first caught my attention was the note tucked into the man’s pocket. I took it out and unfolded it, and immediately flinched.

Demon tongue.

Hellish whispers ran through my head, and I wasn’t sure if they were just in my head or not. It was hard to tell these days.

I honed in on the note, written on some old paper as if torn from an ancient book. The more I stared, the louder the whispers got. I ignored the throbbing in my head as best as I could–humans were not mentally equipped to engage with the infernal language at all, and I much less so. My hands shook as I read the brief message, which I must have read dozens and dozens of times already; I wasn’t counting and didn’t care to.

Some people studied demon tongue despite…well…everything, even the illegality. It probably didn’t matter to them. It didn’t matter to me, either, but someone had spoken to me in demon tongue before–though, in their defense, likely not out of their own volition–and the trembling and rapid heart rate was not worth the ability to communicate with infernals. (Nothing was, honestly.)

For these reasons–and also not wanting to be arrested or have my mage license revoked–I personally didn’t speak or write demon tongue, but I at least knew a little bit and could recognize some of the infernal runes. And those runes were enough for me to know that this was the exact same message that the abyss had been trying to send me in my last moments.

—

Can’t run home, I thought. They’ll follow me.

Just gotta run until I find a phone booth.

I ran until I finally spotted one on the street corner near a bridge. I let out a sigh of relief, taking a quick moment to catch my breath. Then, I quickly crossed the street and ran toward the phone booth, quickly dialing the police station.

“Hello?” I said into the phone as quietly as I could manage. “My name is [……………………………] I’m at the corner of Coral Avenue by the Armada IV Memorial Bridge. I’m being pursued by a group of kids in demon-charmed cloaks and shawls, please I need your help they have knives and they’re trying to kill me-“

The tears stinging at the edge of my eyes began to overflow as a human voice at the end of the line responded in perfect, uncharacteristically calm demon tongue. It was a short sentence, repeated over and over again, but with the little knowledge I *did* have, I could translate it by about the sixth loop:

“You are going to hell.”

I hung up the phone immediately, resisting the urge to yell, “I KNOW” directly into the phone.

Humans can’t speak demon tongue here. It’s illegal.

So how did an officer know demon tongue?

—

Unsurprisingly, the body was still in semi-good condition. After all, little damage was done to the body—only the soul. The only physical marks I could make out were marks around the wrist and neck, likely to restrain the victim. Couple of bruises here and there, too, but nothing was broken.

This…disturbed me, to say the least.

Cults around here were usually known to be violent. After all, a lot of them stood for violent causes–executing the ‘impure,’ plunging everyone into the dreams of a volatile eldritch creature, usurping the throne and forcing everyone to convert, rallying the youth to their bloody cause with claims that they alone possessed special powers…I had heard it all, all of them violent to some degree. But the ones that had gotten me…they seemed to worship oblivion itself. Or maybe whatever was in it. That was beyond even my knowledge.

But…even then, they still had arguably the least violent cause. The deadliest, yes–they seemed to just be destroying souls–but strangely not as bloody. Yet their means of carrying out this objective has historically been, well, bloody.

Or maybe that was just me.

Either way, this victim had certainly not gotten the worst of it. There were no twisted limbs, no bloodied nose, no wounds from blade or bullet, basically no magic-driven attacks aside from the terminating consumption of the soul…only marks of the initial restraint, bruises from the subduing, and the abyss claiming and destroying the soul.

I could almost picture it in my head: they likely jumped him in the middle of the street, kicking him around a bit to possibly weaken him, throw him off balance, but not too much as to rouse resistance, then restraining him–to the floor? A wall? I couldn’t tell, but there were no rope burns so they must have done this by hand–and calling, somehow, for their god, for lack of a better word, to devour its newest victim’s soul.

What did he see as he died? Did their eyes turn as colorless as his would become? Had they shown any sign of enjoying his torment? I doubt it; it didn’t seem like a very ‘fun’ kill. And likely not as personal as it was for me.

They were getting much better at their kills. It probably wasn’t as fun, but more precise.

And a lot less violent than I had gotten.

—

I caught a glimpse of the charm from earlier out of the corner of my eye, but just as I looked it vanished. Just then a cold breeze hit me as the door behind me opened, and I was yanked out onto the street, leaving the phone dangling by the cord. The book dropped from my hands.

The four delinquents appeared in front of me from nowhere, likely having turned off their Moonlight Shroud charms.

“Gotcha,” Ransley said, smiling as he picked up the book.

“Give it BACK!” I roared, lunging for him. Ransley hit me hard across the face with the book, sending me flying a few feet back onto the brick road. Quickly I realized that my safety was not worth keeping that book. I didn’t know where or how Ransley learned to hit that hard but I wasn’t going to stick around to find out. As he and the others examined the book, I began to scurry away as Ransley gave an order to the others:

“Get him.”

An instant later, I heard something click far behind me, and a sharp pain ripped through my knee. I collapsed to the floor, letting out an agonized cry. I examined my knee, and saw a hole much bigger than a bullet hole should be. I looked up at my attackers.

A gun?!

“What the HELL?!” I shouted. “You’ve already got what you want! LEAVE ME ALO-“

Ardent appeared behind me and punched me square in the face. I held my probably-broken nose as a muffled shriek of pain escaped me. Each of them vanished and took turns raining blows and slashes on me as I tried to step back and run. They gave me almost no chance to react. My body ached everywhere; the knife wounds, though shallow, stung just as bad, if not worse, as any bee. I could barely stand. I used my remaining strength to try and push them off of me whenever I felt them, but I stumbled each time I did, giving them room to knock me around further. Finally I collapsed, and Ardent grabbed my shirt and dragged me to the bridge.

“W-wait-“ I cried, still wincing and crying from my bruises and decayed knee. “STOP IT!-”

—

I examined the bandages on my hand and knee. The ones from that night must’ve been amateurs, or at least new to the cult’s way of doing things.

Focus, Shroud.

The victim’s eyes were still open, and almost completely empty.

Almost.

The body must not be entirely empty, then. This wasn’t exactly a kill—whoever this person was, they would not be dead for much longer, or at least depending on your definition of ‘dead.’

How long ago had this attack been, then? I touched the skin—still warm-ish. This had to be recent.

By that logic, if this was meant not as a lethal attack, but as one of induction into their group…

I wasn’t sure how long I had been out, but I at least knew it wasn’t for very long.

So…I didn’t have much longer, then.

I instinctively jerked away from the body. Would he come back? He wouldn’t be under anyone’s control, at least for the first few minutes–how long does it take to kill someone? Would it be long enough for him to kill me?–no, he probably wouldn’t go after me; I had barely any soul left for him to long for…unless he’s just that desperate enough to take scraps from a near-husk.

What would he do when he came back? Would he wander around, lost, confused, until they welcomed him with false promises of salvation and freedom from the ‘burden’ of having a judgement-tied soul? Would he be violent, as they had been to him?

Then again…I came back after one of their attacks, but with a will of my own. Did they want me to come back? Why would they want me of all people to come back?

—

“You know how much trouble you caused us, […….…]?!” Ransley shouted as he kicked me in my injured leg. “Don’t act like you didn’t have this coming, you little weasel.”

“I didn’t-“ I tried to say.

Ransley propped me up on the sidewalk, just by the edge of the bridge, right above the river. He placed his hand on my bruised shoulder, looking at me with a bone-chilling grin.

Again, I got a good look at his eyes. This time, everything except the pupils was entirely white. As I looked I almost felt like I was staring at something beyond; further, even. But the harder I looked the more I could see how much nothing there was. And yet, in spite of that, this nothing seemed to be staring back at me.

The others had the same white eyes too, looking on with a horrible satisfaction.

“What…” I barely managed to say, “…what are y-you…?”

“Free,” Ransley answered, without his usual cruelty and instead with an uncharacteristically sanctimonious tone. “And with our help, so too will you be free.”

With a hard shove, I was pushed off the bridge.

I grabbed onto the edge with my hand, barely having the strength to pull myself up.

“T-this is insane-!” I cried. “Ransley! Please! Y-you can keep the book; I won’t call the police, just help me up-“

Ransley frowned and put his boot on my hand. He leaned in as he brought his foot down harder, crushing my hand. Bone splintered and crumbled under the weight of the shoe, and I let out a shriek as a cold look crossed his face.

“You really should stop holding on so much,” he said. “That’s your problem. That’s why you’re here. Just let go, and face oblivion.”

Ransley took his foot off finally, but my hand had run out of strength. I slipped, and fell into the river.

—

Either way, I had to work fast.

“Hey, kid!” Someone from the crowd called. “What’re you doing? Leave this to the professionals.”

I turned around, and maybe it was the speed at which I had whirled around to face them, or he did just flinch.

Was it my eyes?

“The police won’t find them,” I explained. “I know what I’m doing. I’ve studied demonology for a few years.”

I went back to the body.

“You mean you know who did this?” he asked.

“Maybe,” I answered. “I just wanna be sure…”

I pressed down on the bruises on their shoulder and arms. Hollow. I felt no bone or extra layer of skin or muscle underneath.

Just as I suspected, I thought. Soul devouring.

My only question now was, how much of the soul was left?

—-

The bridge wasn’t particularly tall; just enough for any small cargo ships to run under. But the fall felt much longer than it had any right to.

I never hit the water. I was swallowed by something but it certainly wasn’t the river. It was as cold and sharp but nothing wet ever touched my skin or clothes.

I did not fall into water. I fell into something foreign, something dark, something alive, something evil.

Its eyes were beady and attentive, focused, eager, and it had long rows of sharp fangs. It appeared to smile at me, expecting me, welcoming me. Whispers in demon-tongue surrounded me, and I overwhelmed myself trying to find a single word I could understand. The only thing I could catch was “going to hell” again…was this it? Was this hell? What circle was this?

I was immobile, unable to look away from the creature in front of me, unable to scream as it opened its fang-filled mouth. I couldn’t even let out a scream of protest; no, not against this, as it brought down its jaws and took a large bite out of a deep part of me even I could never access. The pain from my bruises and wounds no longer burned; only ached, as if the pain had been there forever.

I was hollow. If there was anything left, I barely even felt it. My wounds glowed a hot white color and became shallow. I felt nothing but an aching nigh-emptiness that seemed to have no origin I could place; no past; only a present and a long future.

I didn’t know how long I was in that void. But as much as I despised that thing for robbing me of my life, I was grateful that it chose to let me go.

—-


I took out my pen from my pocket and a couple of mini-candles from my satchel. I flicked a lighter and lit the candles, surrounding them at different points around the body. I began to draw an evocation circle around the body. I’m not sure what had stopped this cult from performing forced evocations as opposed to beating everyone into submission until they blacked out enough to face the abyss and have their soul devoured, but I wasn’t about to find any sense in a group of people who literally worship the abyss.

I took my time with the intricate webs of the circle, carefully connecting whatever remained of the soul to the points where I would draw in the runes, and connected those to the candles.

I then drew in symbols in the language of the spirits at the different sub-points that would draw up souls from the afterlife, adding a desperate prayer in each pen stroke that I evoke the right thing and not something unwelcome. I had to steady my hand as I did this, reminding myself that this was merely a human soul who was recently killed, so the chances of him having ended up in hell – was he that kind of person? – were slim; they had to be, of course they were; there was no need to panic so stop panicking. Yet knowing I was drawing the same symbols, the same webs, lighting the same candles as the deadly evokers around town who would break into people’s houses and draw evocation circles under their beds to call up who-knows-what from the pits of hell to torment the living…to think I was drawing the same circle that I checked for every night when I went to sleep…

The pen snapped in my shaking hand against the concrete, getting ink all over my hand. I swore, and rubbed some on my finger tip so I could start to finish the circle.

“What the hell are you doing, kid?!” someone cried, making me jump. “You’re tampering with evidence! That’s illegal!”

“You’re gonna screw up the investigation!” someone else shouted.

I steadied myself from being startled.

“This…this is the investigation,” I replied bluntly.

“Wh–okay…? Are you a detective or something?” the first guy asked.

I shrugged.

“I think so,” I said.

“You think-”

I could hear further shouts from the crowd as I turned the body over to draw the rest of the circle underneath, but I held up my hand to stop them from getting closer.

“Just let me work!” I cried without looking back.

That’s when I noticed some of the rapidly-decaying skin near the shoulder and side of the ankles. The skin had withered and given way to bone, the effect cutting through flesh and muscle. Even the bone had begun to decay.

Well, so much for minimal damage.  

I unzipped the victim’s jacket and pulled back the shirt just slightly to get a better look at the damage. The withering had spread further—the entire shoulder seemed about ready to decay. I took a camera out of my bag and took a picture of the decaying wounds.

With the remaining ink, I drew another sigil on the bandage of my injured hand, a heart-shaped eye-like symbol with two lines running up my index and middle finger. It was a painful process and I was just careful enough to have the pen not tear through the bandage, and I placed my shaking hand on the decaying shoulder and closed my eyes. I saw all of the injuries on the man’s body, including where he had been injured–he had a broken arm that had almost finished recovering, and a fractured foot that was also healing, but wasn’t as near completion as his arms. Either way, both of these had stopped healing, and had actually gotten worse, with the bones beginning to decay in both areas.

What was the point of beating people up, breaking them, letting them decay, and then expecting them to join you after you had broken them? My attackers probably went through the same thing as this man had–as I had, if this cult was larger than them. So why do the same thing to others?

But that was just it, though, wasn’t it?

They knew what it was like to be soulless, and only they knew not only how to recover from the injuries suffered, but how to disguise themselves as living to avoid trouble with the law.

I looked again at the bandages on my hand, and unraveled it slightly, careful not to let the crowd see. There, too, did my flesh begin to decay. This was the primary issue with not having a soul: without the very essence that gives us life, our bodies aren’t capable of self-healing anymore. Any injuries are permanent unless fixed by a doctor, or if we tend our own wounds.

Fortunately my bones—at least in my hand—hadn’t completely withered away. I managed to revive just in time, fortunately.

Just in time.

——

I don’t remember much about the day I woke up. Just the excruciating, aching pain.

What I did know was I had washed up on the shore of the city, and I couldn’t stand up for a very long time. A burning sensation enveloped my entire hand and knee, and I felt a throbbing sensation in both areas. The bruises from the beatdown stuck on me like a leech, but most vividly, my chest felt hollow. And it hurt. The emptiness gnawed at the inside of my chest, and it, too, burned and ached. Like a stomach ache in the wrong place.

With my good hand I crawled my way off of the shore until I found a lamppost. I grabbed onto it, and propped up my good knee. I swung my arm toward the lamppost, grabbing onto it with my bad hand, shocks of pain running through my body. I tried to haul myself up, but the weight of my body caved my knee in, and I collapsed. That’s when I got a good look at my hand.

Bits of skin had completely come off, seeming to have withered away. Pieces of bone underneath had chipped off.

I grew nauseous and I felt the blood drain from my face. I let out some inhuman noise that I reckoned was some attempt at a scream but came out as a cross between that and a moan of agony.

How had this happened?

It was a horrible sound, but at least I had been found. Otherwise, who knows what would’ve happened?

Or who else would’ve found me?

——

Finishing the circle grew tricky as my hand trembled, though I was unsure if it was from the injury or from the reality of the process itself.

“Kid, we don’t even know who you are,” the guy from earlier said. “Are you even a licensed detective?”

I ignored him and wiped some of the ink from my pen on my hand, pressing my hands together to activate the circle. As the soul fire candles flared, what little color was left in their eyes drained slowly, and a small, glowing, deteriorated wisp of a soul rose out of the victim’s body.

This was all that was left…

Somehow this dead man was just the same as I, who could still breath, still walk, still talk, still live—but only just.

What had this man’s soul seen before it was decimated? If, in fact, the same people who killed me are responsible for this, did he, too, see the same grinning face in the abyss that I had? Was he as afraid as I was? Or did he accept this as death?

I took my mage’s license out of my pocket and showed it to the crowd.

“I’m a licensed magic user,” I said, “is that enough?”

“…that’s not a detective license,” the same guy said. “I’m calling the police.”

“Great!” I said. “Tell them the Brotherhood of Abyss Walkers did this.” At this point it was all but confirmed.

“The…what?”

“The cult that keeps tormenting this forsaken town,” I explained. “The one behind all the unexplained murders.”

The guy—along with the rest of the crowd—stifled a laugh. Some of them couldn’t hold it in.

“There’s no cult in New Lumanore,” someone else said. “Our security’s airtight; no way they would’ve been able to form a guild without a license.”

“Just call the authorities, Aaron,” a lady in the crowd said. “This kid isn’t worth persuading.”

“W-wait-“ I said before letting out a resigned sigh. I packed up the candles and pocketed my pen, and took off. I knew who the culprit was. What the police had to say didn’t bother me.

They’ll believe me when I put the culprit behind bars.

—————

In previous investigations I managed to pin down the general area where the Abyss Walkers operate. Prior murders took place at least within a mile’s range of Eclipse Avenue, an area further south of New Lumanore. It was a relatively quiet and empty area; there were quite a bit of shops and buildings of unknown function that no one ever seemed to go into, not even during the day.

The entire place screamed occult activity.

Sure enough, just as I hit the corner of the avenue I caught a glimpse of a Moonlight Shroud charm, pinned to the outwear of a hooded figure. They were walking along the other side of the street, hanging close to the bare wall of a wide building.

Once they were some distance along I crossed the street quickly and began tailing them.

Confrontation wasn’t new to me, just…unfavorable. Is that why I trembled? Either way I knew the procedure: Walk with the same beat. Same path, same pattern of step. Stop when he stops. Walk like this until the shadow is close enough for contact.

Once I did I took out a capsule from my coat. It contained shadow ink, allowing me to either create my own shadow, or to hide within someone else’s. I didn’t have enough of a soul to perform any magical feats on my own–whatever I could do would probably just come out as sparks–so this was the best I could work with. Unfortunately the capsule was nearly empty, and I made a mental note to contact my supplier after I was finished. In the meantime, I used what was left to lather my hand in ink as I silently crept behind the lone cultist, and pressed my hand against his shadow. I latched on and eventually got pulled in. Inside the shadow realm, I had a black-and-white view of the street from inside the wall. I couldn’t breathe, though, and I couldn’t hold my breath for very long so I knew I had to jump him sooner rather than later.

I took a coin out of my pocket and tossed it outside behind the cultist. He stopped and turned around, as expected, and I took the moment to lunge out and grab him by the throat.

—————

The cultist narrowed his eyes, and an amused smirk came on his face.

“Hey…” he said. “I know you.”

I flinched. How?

He kicked me off and stood up.

“You…you’re the kid we got that book from!” He chuckled. “You don’t quit, do you? This is really what you chose to do after death? Vigilante work?”

I felt the blood drained from my face.

“…what are you talking about?” I lied. “What book?”

“The demonology book, stupid,” he said. “The thing damning you to begin with. You forgot already? Or did you lose your memories alongside almost all your soul somehow?”

I clenched my fist, resisting the urge to charge at him again. I couldn’t take him in a head-on fight. I was too weak for that.

“Tell me,” he said. “How’s it feel? Being so close to freedom, so close to ridding yourself of that moral creed weighing you down…no fear of rapture…just your life and your…well, I suppose now broken…body, and your heart and mind.”

“Shut up,” I snapped.

“Good thing you came back, though. We’ve been slacking on our initiations recently…Ardent went a little too hard on too many people. We’re behind on our quota.”

“Wait a sec…” I took a step back. “What do you mean ‘too hard?’ Aren’t they supposed to come back?”

“The idiot decided to use magic to slow the initiates down,” the cultist explained. “As if that wouldn’t damage the soul at all. I’m sure you of all people know. You’ve taken enough beatings form him, right, D–“

I punched him in the face. The second I made contact I realized I had used my bad hand without thinking. Bone snapped, collapsed, and even shifted through the hole in my hand. I let out a far-too-loud shriek of agony as I recoiled and caressed my hand, trying to relocate the bone.

The cultist looked at me and laughed, and I raised a finger on my good hand and threatened him:

“Don’t try that again,” I said. “I’ve still got one—ahh…—perfectly functioning hand.”

“Fine by me,” he replied. “You hit hard for a dead person…”

My hand still ached from the punch. I imagine it probably hurt me way more than it hurt him.

“Do you mean to turn me in, Shroud?” the cultist hissed. “Just try it. I know who you are. They’ll find out you’re undead and investigate you to hell and back. Whatever decimal of a soul you have left won’t save you. Not even close.”

“I can’t trust you with that information even if I let you go,” I said. “But even if you do…I’ll know sooner or later if you’ve said something. You best not try it if you don’t wanna die twice.”

The cultist grinned.

“I’m shaking,” he said, deadpan. “I’ll just come back again.”

“What, are there no revival limits in your little group?”

“Nope. He’ll bring us back again and again as long as he needs us.”

“That sounds terrible.”

“Oh, you’ve only been resurrected once, you big baby,” the cultist said. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I’m not joining you.”

“You have no reason not to,” the cultist said. “We can fix your broken body; make you look and seem as alive as the next person. Those remnants of a soul may not matter to the police, who’ll mark you as soulless anyway, but you know who it does matter to?” He pointed at the sky and at the group. “Them. Someone like you, who’s spent hours learning about heaven’s enemies…you think you have any chance of reaching heaven? HA!”

I fell silent. Just when I thought being registered as ‘dead’ to everyone you know meant they wouldn’t bother you about being a (rookie) demonologist anymore. That reminder worked my last nerve, yet every time it was brought up I could never muster up a proper defense.

“…I’m aware,” I mumbled.

“Besides, I’m sure you’re just livid at the police, who never caught who got you. I’m sure you’d like your vengeance against them for failing you…we can help you out with that, if you’d like. After all, why should we fear death, or judgement, from this life or the next? Like I’ve said, we’ve got no soul to weigh us down to heaven or hell. No death, no judgment. Just you, whatever you wanna do, and a welcoming oblivion who’ll spit you back out as many times as needed. As long as you keep it fed, that is.”

“It doesn’t matter if the police know or if they don’t know,” I said. “I know. And I’ll know more than they ever will. Besides, why the hell would I trust you to give me closure about my death–the death YOU caused?!”

The cultist frowned.

“And that’s just the trouble, isn’t it…you’re just about soulless, and the only soulless person New Lumanore who isn’t with us and…for what? You lose nothing by joining us!”

“First of all,” I shouted. “I am not soulless. Your stupid demon didn’t take all of it.”

“Yeah. Still not sure why that happened,” the cultist replied, “but who am I to question the great abyss–”

“Oh, shut up. And second of all–just in case you forgot–YOU KILLED ME! I don’t owe you loyalty, or gratitude, or mercy…I owe you nothing.”

“You may be upset now,” the cultist said, “but you’ll learn to thank us later.”

“I will not.”

His frown turned into a scowl. He took out a small cylinder from his pocket.

“I was gonna use this the day of the attack,” he said, “but I didn’t see any point. Seemed like the others were doing just fine without the staff.”

Sure enough, the cylinder popped open into a metal bo-staff. He walked towards me, twirling it through his fingers.

“You’ve been chasing the wrong thing, Shroud,” he said. “You think you need vengeance, but what you really need is security. We all know what being soulless is like. You’re weaker, you can’t heal your wounds, you can’t do magic, and it’s pretty obvious when you’ve just come back from the dead. I don’t care what three-percent of a soul you do have; it’s nowhere near enough for you to enjoy all the privileges of being fully human. Face it. You’re basically the same as us.”

As I stepped back, he stopped spinning the staff and instead gripped it with both hands.

“So you can either let go of those remnants you have the audacity to still call a soul, then come with us and let us give you the safety you so desperately need,” he said, rearing the staff back, “…or we’ll just break you further and let oblivion do what it wishes with your remains.”

He started to bring the staff down.

“WAIT!” I yelled, bringing my hands to my face.

Surprisingly enough, he actually froze, the staff a couple inches from my face.

“Okay…I get it…” I said. “You’re right. I won’t turn you in. Just…promise me you won’t tell anyone who I am.”

“What’s stopping me?” the cultist asked, cocking his head slightly and raising an eyebrow.

“Look. I didn’t turn you in,” I said. “You owe me.”

“No I don’t. I’m not tied to anything but oblivion.”

I let out an annoyed huff.

“Like I said. I’ll know if you exposed me,” I reminded him. “I don’t care if that scares you or not, just…let me go.”

“Let YOU go?! You jumped ME!”

“And I had—I…thought…I had the right to. Look…I’m backing down. You go about your night. I go about mine. We don’t speak of this.”

The cultist hesitated, then put the staff away.

“Fine,” he said. “But we’ll still come back for you. Whether or not your initiation goes smoothly is entirely on you.”

With that, he pulled out the same charm he had on the day of the attack, and vanished.

“See you around,” he said.

That was the last I heard of him that night.

Once I thought I was safe, I let out a loud groan of annoyance.

I had him. He was literally a few feet away. If I *just* had more shadow ink that would’ve been it for him.

But…he was right. I was at every possible disadvantage. And I couldn’t work like that. I shouldn’t have jumped him. I should’ve just taken note of his appearance and went from there. That was foolish on my part.

But…I did have his appearance now.

But he had my identity.

I still wasn’t at a complete advantage. And I couldn’t work like that. I had to lay low, and rebuild. My hand was wounded and I was lucky I didn’t get my skull bashed in. There was no way I could have recovered from that. But I wouldn’t give up. I had a lead and I wasn’t letting go of it.

I didn’t care about their ‘freedom’ or ‘not being tied down’ or anything like that. Fact of the matter is, they were hurting people, and their demon lord had more control over them than they’d realize.

They were beyond redemption. The demon didn’t bind them through any soul manipulation or contract–it was some weird combination of free will, gratitude, and the threat of permanent death.

These cultists had to go, and quickly. They had to pay, and dearly.

I know I’m weak, but once I’m back up and running I would do as much damage from the shadows as humanly possible.

They weren’t bound by any rules, so why should I have to be?

I didn’t care how many times I would get hurt. They ruined my life, and I was going to pay them back tenfold.

[druid-for-hire]

new hadestown au: BIKER ! EURYDICE, in which she’s a rogue lone-wolf biker dwelling in the urban jungle of a Neo Tokyo-type city called Hadestown, wracked with biker gangs, violence, poverty, corruption, and civil unrest, still recovering and rebuilding from an apocalyptic event many years ago. Heavy-handed with the AKIRA inspirations here, haha.

She fights for herself on the dangerous streets, an illegal racer with a consistent top-three placement and a reputation for ferocity that earns her the money she needs to scrape by. And then she meets Orpheus: a dopey bartender who has no place being in her business.

okay okay okay i’m gonna be jumping around a lot here. be warned. thanks @supercantaloupe, @regzillas, @birdmanlyss for your contributions! (sorry if i missed someone it’s been a while)

she's a lone wolf in a city infested with biker gangs and it's brutal

she's run over plenty of limbs in her day

then there's orpheus, this gentle, kind-hearted soul, an indie musician and shes like. fuck. now i gotta keep this bastard safe

puts a long pipe with a mess of bolts and metal on the end in his hands and tells him he'd better buckle up and learn to fight the road

this sort of thing is common among biker gangs to cause destruction and knock people off their bikes onto the road. other types include mallets, hammers, baseball bats, etc

shes small but knows a lot of self defense and is very good at handling herself on the road

besides teaching orpheus to steel himself and yes use that pipe on people, push them off and jam it in their wheels and let it break if it does, she's gotta teach him to hold on while she pulls all this crazy shit on her bike

she avoids taking him on the road because having to fight people gives him so much stress but he also stresses about her so it's all weird

the first time orpheus sees her run over someones arm hes like ""???????????????????!!!!!!!!"

"Don't worry it doesn't happen often" "WHAT IS 'OFTEN'"

she has a red songbird on her helmet and flowers on her jacket

and flowers painted on her bike too probably

or patterns like on the album cover

orpheus thinks it’s the prettiest shit he’s ever seen

so eurydice races, right? everyones like “who is this tiny little upstart” and then she takes off her helmet and shakes out her hair and everyone loses it

somethingsomething ig hades (who is something of a crime boss here, similar to Tombstone from the Spectacular Spider-Man cartoon, but not so unambiguously villainous in nature) becomes a contractor and he catches her in like, a bad contract that's hard to get out of without some kind of consequence

and now orpheus has to topple a capitalist again

anyway she like, meets orpheus in this little bar he works at

it's about lower middle class, so it's not too bad but it's still mostly populated by like, poorer people and bikers, etc.

they meet and it's cool and fun blah blah Come Home With Me shit

also this is a scene:

biker!eury: we gotta cross through downtown orpheus: what???? but there's a riot going on there! right now! eury: that's too bad, it's the fastest way! that's why you get this! (tosses him her pipe weapon) orpheus, barely catching it: sajskhsfdfs ???? eury: and i am gonna take this. (kicks open a trunk and takes out a rifle) orpheus: ???????!!!!???!?? WHERE DID YOU GET THAT AND DO WE REALLY NEED IT eury: Yes we do now come on orpheus: H-HOW did you get it eury: (loads gun) no worries orpheus: No i have many worries HOW DID YOU--

actually, on this emergency ride, orpheus proves surprisingly competent with her pole weapon—ruthless even, and eurydice wonders just where and how the hell he learned that

the conversation she has with him about that is the same one where he shows her his old, old scars

(besides ruthless—orph has apparently learned how to pose and intimidate. he does stuff like putting the tip of the pole-pipe to the asphalt as they’re riding, skipping on the road and creating sparks)

eurydice loves her bike more than certain relatives 

certain complications lead to it being destroyed by hades as punishment for doing him wrong. and it destroys her. that is her most trusted sacred bike, that thing has been with her since she was a teenager

once she repurposes that devastation into white-hot anger orph has to physically restrain her from hunting hades down and breaking his kneecaps with a thick lead pipe

he's never seen her this absolutely devastated and furious

he goes to persephone for more work because he wants to buy eurydice a new bike

he keeps it a secret from her until he leads her out to a garage, hands over her eyes

(some of these bits are copypasted from my friend @regzillas​)

orpheus takes his hands off and says Tada!!! it's just like the old one, there's no painted birds but she can do that. She just stands there in total silence mouth open, and orpheus goes 'so? do you like it?' before she bursts into tears. and at first orpheus is like :O!!!!! oh no!!! do you not like it? and eurydice through sobs just says 'nobody's ever done something like this for me’

it's... beautiful, it's touching, it's deep and it's love and she's so in love and she loves him so much, and she cries and holds him close and takes him in and she's so overwhelmed by her emotions, full of the care that orpheus so freely gives to her; and it's a breath of newness, fresh air in the cycle of dread and bitter anger that haunts the city (but she's still going to find hades and shoot him in the foot)

he just holds her and kisses her head

they spend the day painting it, the day after he buys the bike

hand-painted. and they both leave their handprints in paint on it, like carl and ellie do on their mailbox in the beginning of Up

a significant amount of time is spent thinking of a good name

theres lots of joking and eurydice playfully shoves orpheus and he falls over into paint

okay i wrote something like. Obnoxiously long for orpheus. i sort of have his backstory in this down, but i don’t have anything for eurydice unfortunately :( suggestions are welcome! but first: Hermes

biker!au hermes owns a chain of bars, several of which find their patronage among the ruffian youth, several of which are more refined and serve the middle class, and another several of which serve the upper crust hermes has a hand in every world and it serves him pretty well, and his chain is a bit of a channel of communication and its unspoken rule that whatever socioeconomic class or gang or organization you're a part of, hermes' chain is neutral territory no fighting allowed

eurydice walks in and hermes just gives her a Look and taps the 'no fighting' sign and she huffs

hes >:( if anyone does try to start shit. the honor system is strong enough that usually the other patrons will just throw them out, and if there are really problems, they'll hear from hermes personally

he maintains a very strict "no bitching in my fucking kitchen" atmosphere

and now, Orpheus

this really is kind of akira but without the government conspiracies; the city is a neon corrupt hellscape that’s still struggling to rebuild after an apocalyptic event that wiped it all through. the city is wracked with frustration and violence and anger, there are still urban ruins everywhere and the scars of rebuilding and struggle are plain in every corner of life; plain to see are the shells of ruined buildings, gigantic boats levelled from the sea and left in the middle of inland sectors.

orpheus was abandoned by his mother at an early age—kind and timid, he had to learn fast how to be suspicious and cautious in cruel ways. he couldn’t land himself a spot in any of the groups that other ragtag raging folks had eked out for themselves, still too hesitant or ungraceful or young for any of them. sure, he made friends, sitting and talking with lots of people, but never got to really team up—all he could do was just fight for himself in the blown out corners of the city. weapons made from whatever he had. a young child already spitting blood and teeth in hadestown’s vicious ground-floor landscape.

hermes is his mother’s close old friend, though the times they see each other are few and far between. when he saw him, hermes hardly recognized her son, wild-eyed and clawed and alone in one of the city’s more dangerous neighborhoods, with a pole full of screws slung over his back. how did she lose track of her kid for so long? he thinks. and takes him in.

hermes eventually realizes that his mother didn’t lose him. meanwhile, tiny orpheus, kind-hearted orpheus, despises hermes at first. he’s full of suspicion and desperately wants to lean into hermes’ kindness, but the streets have taught him to hold back. he spits curses at him, though the words slide right off hermes’ shoulders. it’s not genuine.  just frustrated. and picked off of the delinquents that were his friends, just like most everything else about him.

(hermes knows he’s gotten his trust when orpheus starts getting soft, when he’s crying over littler things; it means he’s been deemed safe to be vulnerable around, and he damn near starts crying himself.)

orpheus owns a little vespa! it’s covered in stickers, some of them worn out and old, some places with just the adhesive and the fuzzy white paper from where he tried to pull them off. some of them aren’t even proper stickers and just shit he peeled off from places while he was wandering around and stuck onto the vespa

even in canon i see him as the kind of guy who like. you look at him and think jesus how is this guy still alive he’s so noodly and soft, but he’s unexpectedly sort of street smart

anyway i mentioned this before but didn’t elaborate. biker au orph, to eury's surprise, does have his collection of scars, since he had a bit of a rough go at life

also he’s just ungainly and runs into shit

you can see em on his sketch page. he has a bit more than what’s shown, but what’s visible is a little slash across the bridge of his nose onto his cheek, and two on his left forearm. he probably has a stab scar in his side from just getting fucking knifed. the ones on his left forearm are from when a drunk coming out of a bar charged him with a fork

eurydice also has scars. kind of hard not to with the kind of life she lives

ok thats it. For Now. i don’t know how persephone or the fates or the workers factor in, if at all. I barely know how Hades factors in, mostly what i’ve said so far and that he does what he does to support himself and persephone. ah well! just have this

as this is extremely based off of AKIRA, i verily recommend listening to the movie’s soundtrack. besides the fact that it slaps hard as hell, the opening song, Kaneda’s Theme, has the perfect vibes for the city and the tone of eurydice and orpheus riding at night through it

[kanri-tea]

The TDD get punted into the world of Demon Slayer via illegal microphone, starring:

Ramuda as Tanjiro

Jakurai as Nezuko

Ichiro as Zenitsu

Samatoki as Inosuke

None of them know what's going on and they're all disasters (they blame Ichiro though, this anime-esque shit has got to be Ichiro's fault). The only mostly responsible one has been turned into a demon and Ramuda is panic-screeching in his mind.

Ramuda and Jakurai live together. Jakurai runs a small cliniic and orphanage which he's been running for quite some time before he stumbled upon a child Ramuda and took him in.

Ramuda was not a happy camper when he comes to and comes face to face with Jakurai, but since they're in the Edo period ("We are in the Taisho era, Amemura-kun" "Ugh, whatever! Close enough!"), he figures it'll be safer if he sticks with the old man.

Ichiro is an orphan that gets picked up by Kuwajima like Zenitsu, but no electrocution for this boy. He's a diligent student, but can't seem to really pick up any other of the Thunder Breathing forms other than the first one because of plot device

Samatoki grows up in the forest as well, but he is a civilized person no matter what anyone may say. Plus, he has some experience of survival cooking thanks to Rio. His Beast Breathing is a combination of influence from the wild animals that he grows up with and memories of Rio and Jyuto

Ramuda returns from selling coal when Muzan kills everyone at the clinic and turns Jakurai into a demon, paralleling canon with Tanjiro and Nezuko. Jakurai doesn't recognize Ramuda at first, mind still stuck in the in-between of human and demon. He doesn't eat anyone but he does nearly attack Ramuda when he gets back but regains his mind at the last second.

After an encounter with Giyuu and Jakurai proving that he's still very much himself, Ramuda travels to find Urokodaki with a child sized Jakurai in a basket. It is very awkward for both of them and Ramuda promises that he'll find a way to turn Jakurai back into a human

Ramuda is very much panicking and screeching in his mind because what the fuck is going on and why the fuck do demons of all things suddenly exist and Ichiro, this is totally your fault, what is this, an anime???

Jakurai is a very tired (tm) and kinda pissed that he has to rely on Ramuda now. He's also a little mad about having to be the size of a toddler most of the time

Ramuda learns Water Breathing while Jakurai starts rehoning his assassin skills. He might be a healer now, but with how dangerous this world seems to be, well, someone has to watch Ramuda's back.

Along the way, Ramuda figures out that he can use his microphone's ability along with Water Breathing. His sense of smell is also ridiculously good for some reason, which is helpful to find demons, he supposes. Jakurai on the other hand, finds out that not only can he use blood demon arts, but also use his microphone's ability, except it's more like he can help others regenerate/heal fast. They're both really weirded out, but hey, at least its useful???

Ramuda ends up meeting Ichiro on his way to Tsuzumi Mansion. To say that they're surprised would be a huge understatement. Ichiro had assumed that he was alone while Ramuda had assumed that it was only him and Jakurai. Jakurai is conveniently asleep in the box when this happens and it slips Ramuda's mind to tell Ichiro. Ichiro is slightly suspicious though, because his sense of hearing is really good and he's pretty sure there's a demon in there, but Ramuda wasn't saying anything???

Samatoki is trapped in Tsuzumi Mansion and cursing himself for rushing in without a plan when he encounters Ichiro with a civilian kid. While surprised to see each other, they nearly start fighting before being reminded that hey, they're kinda in a demon lair right now.

When Ramuda, Ichiro, and Samatoki finally reunite, it's a bit bittersweet because on one hand, they're really glad they're not the only ones here, but on the other hand, why are they in this weird ass world?

Also, Ichiro and Samatoki question, if the three of them were here, where was Jakurai?

"Uhhh... Yeeeah... About that... The old man is kinda, uh." Ramuda sweats his way through this conversation, "I'll tell you guys when we get to the Wisteria house, 'kay?"

When they finally get to the House with the Wisteria family crest ("Holy shit, that old lady is creepy." "Stop being a baby, Ichiro.") Ramuda finally reluctantly reveals what happened to Jakurai.

"So, about the old man. We kinda ended up together," Ramuda starts explaining, "Like he ran a clinic and everything and I lived there for a while."

"Eh, did he stay behind?" Ichiro questioned, confused to where this conversation was going. Samatoki is nodding next to him, confused.

"About two years back, we... the clinic got attacked by a demon. Muzan," Ramuda breaths, "And the old man..."

Ichiro and Samatoki's eyes widen. Was Jakurai dead?

"... Jakurai got turned into a demon," Ramuda finally admits. He turns towards the box and raps his knuckles on it.

"Yo, old man. Are you coming out or not? You've been asleep in there for ages!"

The door of the box swings open, a tiny hand revealing itself before its owner crawls out, purple hair splayed everywhere.

"What," Samatoki breathlessly stares, "the fuck."

A toddler-sized Jinguji Jakurai stares back, muzzled mouth quirking down and an unimpressed look plastered on his child-like face.

Both Ichiro and Samatoki are very, very surprised. They quickly agree to help Ramuda find a way to turn Jakurai back into a human. If they happen to spend a couple minutes cooing over how cute he looks, well that's no one else's business, now is it?

They learn that while Jakura has retained his mind, his body is still very much like a demon's. He can't stand in sunlight or eat human food. His energy comes from sleeping and while he can speak, but only when he's in his adult form. He's more or less non-verbal as a child.

Ichiro stews in his thoughts in the meantime. He's fairly sure this is the plot of an anime he saw once... He keeps quiet though because he's not 100% certain, but did the illegal mic seriously punt them into an anime?

Jakurai is very unhappy with what happened at Natagumo mountain and is even more unhappy with being stabbed multiple times while in the box while being put on trial. Honestly, what sort of barbaric trial is this? Hitoya would be so dissapointed.

When Sanemi tries to bait Jakurai using his own blood, Jakurai just sends a "I'm very exhausted and exasperated" look at Ramuda

"Oyakata-sama," Jakurai hears someone scream, "I will present to you the ugliness of what we call demons!"

He's mildly cranky at being woken up by all this chattering and being suddenly stabbed, but even that isn't able to distract him from the sudden scent of blood seeping into the box.

Sweet... But, no, Jakurai had sworn that he would not fall prey to these demonic temptations.

"Hey demon! It's time to eat! Sink your teeth on this!"

As the door of the box is ripped open, Jakurai frowns at the rudeness. The blood is tempting, yes, but more importantly...

Jakurai tilts his head to look at Ramuda. Are they serious?

No fucking duh! The look Ramuda shoots back is scathing and furious, though more because he was being restrained by the man with the snake then at Jakurai.

"Shinazugawa-kun, was it," he sighs as the people watching gasp. He's well aware that he's rather tall, even in the modern age.

"You shouldn't needlessly injure yourself," he grabs a roll of bandages and starts wrapping the young man's wound. The boy looks rather shocked and angry, but Jakurai didn't really have the energy to really care.

"Huh?"

"Eh?"

Jakurai hears the confusion around him, but chose to ignore it. Giyuu and Ramuda could deal with the questions later, he decided, Jakurai was already exhausted from Natagumo mountain.

"Wait a second!"

Jakurai turns, finishing up wrapping the young man's arm.

"I thought the box was stupidly heavy, but you're like the size of a toddler normally," Ramuda starts, "Have I been basically carrying a shit-ton of medical supplies?!"

Jakurai rolled his eyes, shooting the most unimpressed look he could at the pink-haired gremlin, "Well someone has to take care of your injuries, no?"

"You - you stupid old man! I can't believe anyone calls you saint! Aaughh!! I hope you break your back!"

"That would most assuredly be very difficult to do with my regeneration. Though, I suppose object permanence is rather difficult for children like you."

Maybe they should tone down their arguments a little... nah. It effectively derails the meeting, which was the entire point of Ramuda's outburst, of course.

When Ramuda and Jakurai finally arrive at the Butterfly estate, they find Ichiro with shrunken limbs ("The medicine sucks, but it's nothing worse than what sensei's given me before...") and Samatoki with a crushed throat ("Fuck... I was so weak..."). Ramuda is also in a lot of pain. Jakurai manages to recover fairly quickly with lots of sleep and spends a lot of their recovery time assisting the nurses.

Ramuda tries to figure out why he can do Hinokami Kagura and is very confused. Jakurai tiredly reminds him that it's probably because he used to watch Tanjuro, a former patient who lived at the clinic, do it. While Jakurai only knows about Hinokami Kagura as a ritual dance, he is reminded that the sick and frail man had died and left behind a pair of strange-looking earrings.

When training begins, Ichiro, Samatoki, Ramuda are motivated and stubborn to a fault, so they manage to learn Total Concentration: Constant. Ramuda also has a conversation with the Butterfly pillar, Shinobu ("Please do your best, Ramuda-kun. When I see you doing your best in my stead, I feel much better."), it makes him think back on his relationship with the Chuuoku. These people... They care a lot and they're fighting for their lives and humanity every day. They aren't even comparable to manipulations and cruelty of the Chuuoku, and Ramuda wonders a bit if he even wants to go back. Sure, there's Gentaro and Dice, but... here, he's not sick. He's not living day-to-day wondering if he'll outlive his usefulness. Here... he's able to stay at Jakurai's side.

Jakurai is the one to become friends with Kanao is this universe, because let's be honest here, Ramuda is really not the type to be nice out of the goodness of his heart, and Ichiro would probably do it, but he's kinda still recovering from nearly becoming a spider.

"You should listen to your own heart," the purple-haired demon hums. He's talking to her, but Kanao doesn't know why. The demon - Jakurai, she thinks - had been taking time out of his day since he'd recovered to talk to her.

She doesn't respond often. Her coin doesn't land on tails that often, but it doesn't seem to bother the tall demon. And tall he is, his height easily looming over her, but there's an aura of kindness and gentleness that tells Kanao that this demon wouldn't hurt her. It's a strange thing to think about a demon.

It's Jakurai's last day here. The other demon slayers, including the one that Jakurai travels with is leaving. Kanao isn't sure, but she thinks she might be a little sad about it. The demon has been good company, she has to admit to herself a little.

"People," she hears him breathe, "are driven by their hearts. If you live by your heart, your heart will grow stronger than ever."

Jakurai smiles down at her. It's gentle and warm and his eyes crinkle a little bit at the edges. He ruffles her hair a bit, a familiar motion over the course of the month.

She knows it's time for him to leave when he gets up. He leans over and straighten outs the butterfly in her hair, giving one last kind smile.

"Live by your heart's desire, Kanao. And stay healthy."

With that, he leaves, leaving Kanao behind contemplating his words. Could she really live like that? Live by her heart's desires...? There was something in the kind demon's words and smiles that made her think that maybe, just maybe... she could.

Samatoki and Ramuda's first impression of Rengoku is that he's a weirdo. Ichiro on the other hand thinks he's kinda cool. Jakurai is asleep and therefore doesn't care.

When they're put asleep by Enmu, they end up dreaming about their respective division (sans Jakurai). It's also a bit of a harsh awakening that they've all gotten pretty complacent of this world and that they need to find a way to get back to the modern age ASAP.

When Rengoku is nearly dead because of Akaza, Ichiro, Samatoki, and Ramuda are inconveniently a little bit attached to the strange Hashira. As a desperate last resort, Ramuda gets Jakurai to try and heal the man. After all, they were all sick of the people they cared about dying and if this could save him...

"There's no point in shouting now," Ramuda hears the hashira call out from behind him. His vision is blurry from tears, and distantly, he recognizes the resigned tone in the man's voice. Rengoku Kyoujuro was had already accepted his death as inevitable.

"The wound on my stomach is opening," the man tells Ramuda, "And your injuries aren't minor either."

Samatoki is watching silently and Ramuda can see out of the corner of eye that Ichiro is making sure Jakurai doesn't get killed by the sun.

Wait. Jakurai. The old man could heal Rengoku, right?

It takes a moment of shouting to Samatoki and Ichiro to convey his idea, but even as Rengoku is staring at them with a single, intense eye, they manage to get Jakurai and Rengoku into the shaded trees of the forest nearby.

"Ramuda-kun," Jakurai quietly says, before focusing his attention on Rengoku's injuries. It's not a promise, Ramuda knows, but Jakurai is a doctor through and through. He'll do his best to ensure that Rengoku survives, he knows this.

Rengoku is watching them confused, a couple of protests having spilled out, but he's ignored in favor of getting Jakurai over as quickly as possible.

Ramuda has seen Jakurai heal a couple of people over the years with his ability, but it's always amazing to see it like this rather than through a microphone.

"Hypnosis Microphone: Medication," Jakurai breathes, and as his hands glows, the injuries beneath start to mend themselves. It starts off slow, but as color returns to the hashira's cheeks and breathing evens out, Ramuda knows that it's working. Knows that Jakurai is doing everything he can to heal the man.

There's going to lots and lots of questions later, Ramuda knows, but for now he's glad. He's glad that Jakurai is here, that Ichiro and Samatoki are here, that he's not alone.

He's glad that he doesn't have to see another person that he cares about die.

[prettyguardiankore-blog]

Love in Literacy, ch8 (Levi x fem!reader)

-Levi POV-

(updated on my ao3)

So? What do you say?” he said, reaching a hand to Levi. "Will you join the Scouts?”

Levi glared at him in contempt. How dare he offer him his hand, as if they were on equal footing, after restraining him, beating him, and shoving his face into the filthy mud. Levi turned his head.

“Fine.”

He smiled.

“Very good.”

Erwin Smith, I will kill you. That is a promise.

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Levi pushed open the door, bringing up his hand to cover his eyes as the stunning morning light hit his face. The sheer power of the sun still hadn’t failed to impress him since he’d arrived. Once his eyes adjusted to the light, he stared up at the piercing blue sky, decorated with fluffy, large clouds. A gust of warm air ruffled his hair. It’s beautiful, no doubt about it. When he thought about the irony of such a lovely day being paired with the daunting task ahead of him, he couldn’t help but crack a small, bitter smile.

📷

He hoisted his satchel over his shoulder, walked down the steps, and to the stables. Isabel and Furlan had left earlier in the morning to tend to their horses before the expedition, so he was going to meet up with them there. He mindlessly walked through the outer castle at a leisurely pace, despite the fact that he was tight on time. As he walked, her face popped in his head. The small smile glued to her face, paired with sad, weary eyes, as she slowly extended her hand to meet his own.

Please be safe tomorrow.

Easier said than done, he thought, rubbing his neck. Well, whatever. It’s not like he was planning on doing otherwise, anyway. All three of them knew that their safety came before anything. The expedition, the client, they had no ties to either. All of this was for their future prosperity. A life on the surface, where they didn’t have to deviate from the law to barely just survive or watch their back with every step they took. That future was so close within his grasp he could taste it… and under no circumstances was he going to let it escape him now.

“Levi!”

Levi shot his head back up, he hadn’t realized he’d been staring at the ground as he made it to the stables. He gave Isabel and Furlan a small nod as they ran over to meet him.

“Ya took way too long, bro!” Isabel scolded, placing her hands on her hips. “We gotta leave right now!”

“Yeah, yeah whatever,” he responded, dismissively, as he moved past them to his horse. He reached up and pat down its mane. It seemed to relax at his touch, leaning its head into the contact. Should I give it a name…?

“Got all your stuff ?” Furlan asked, motioning towards his bag.

“Mhm.”

“Excellent!” Furlan grinned, as he gave Levi a hard slap on the back. “What an exemplary soldier you’ve turned into!” he teased, with a mischievous grin. Levi glared up at him, but he couldn’t help but be amused at the comment. The three of them walked back over to the stables, hoisted themselves onto their horses, and began a slow trot out to the main gate.

“How long had you guys been up?” Levi asked, turning to Furlan.

“Maybe a little over an hour before you, Isabel wanted to ‘mentally prepare’ her horse, whatever that means.” Furlan replied, shooting Isabel a bemused look. She gave him a wide smile, softly stroking her horse's neck.

“I’m thinkin’ it worked! He seems really calm right now.” she said, looking down at the animal with loving eyes.

“I see.” Levi said, shooting his own horse a quick look. How can she tell, is my horse relaxed? Well, it was probably just because it was Isabel, she had always been good with animals.

Silence fell between the three of them as they walked through the inner city. They all felt a responsibility to say something, but the words simply wouldn’t form. Eventually, Furlan broke the silence.

“How are you guys feeling?” Furlan asked, quietly.

“Like… I could pee, but also puke...but also I feel really excited!” Isabel piped, completely ignoring the disgusted look Furlan was giving her.

“Such a way with words,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“You asked!” she responded defensively, “And what about ya? How are ya guys feelin’?”

Furlan stared down at the reins in his hands, thinking about his answer, before looking up somewhat defeatedly.

“Same as you, I suppose.” he finally said, and Isabel let out a sharp cackle, and the corners of Levi’s lips upturned at the back and forth.

“What about you, bro?” Isabel asked, leaned forward to look past Furlan and meet his eyes.

“I’m just happy to have this be over with,” he said lazily.

“What a boring answer.” Isabel pouted.

“Just being honest.”

“He does have a point though, after this is all done and over with, we can live happily on the surface.” he beamed, “Maybe Levi could open up a tea shop, and I could finally ask a beautiful librarian out on a date, and Isabel…” he looked back at her blankly, “Maybe she could become a pig farmer?” he concluded. Isabel’s mouth fell open in offense.

“Pig farmer?!” she exclaimed, in a shrill voice, “No way I'm becomin’ a pig farmer!”

“Just being realistic.” he shrugged, nonchalantly, as Isabel seethed next to him.

“If ya wanna talk realistic, asking her out and succeeding?” she scoffed, “She’s way too good for ya! And anyways, ya barely even know her!”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.” he responded, looking back down, blushing slightly to himself. Levi observed him intently. What does that mean ? Had they been seeing each other privately? Suddenly, Furlan's eyes widened, and he smacked himself in the head.

“Oh crap!”

“What?” Isabel asked, puzzled.

“I was supposed to read something yesterday night, but I completely forgot...” he said, brows furrowed. “Well no matter, I’ll just read tonight.” he murmured assuredly to himself. Levi cocked a brow. He wasn’t going to even bother asking. It wasn't any of his business what he did with his free time, anyway.

“Since when do ya have a reading sched-?” Isabel began.

“Well whatever we do, from here on out," He said, completely ignoring Isabel’s question. "We actually have a choice. We get to decide how we will live our lives from here on out.” he finished, eyes softening. Isabel snapped her mouth shut, and nodded firmly. With that in mind, they continued through the city, marching forward towards their futures.

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“We will now begin our 23rd Reconnaissance mission, onward!” Shadis bellowed, thrusting his blade into the air. Veins pulsated from the top of his head. The man was so tense that he looked like he might explode if he pricked himself with a sewing needle. The soldiers echoed his war cry as the large metal gate lifted open with a deafening creak, and they charged through. Levi, Isabel, and Furlan were positioned near the back, with the rest of their squad. The sound of their horse’s hooves pounding into the pavement left a slight buzzing in Levi’s head. Levi gripped on his reins tightly, and with a strong flick of his wrist, sent his horse flying forward. Isabel and Furlan followed him closely at either side of him. Some gray clouds had begun to creep up behind them, but it didn’t look like it was going to rain quite yet. Levi swallowed. As much as he’d tried to prepare himself, now that he was exiting the gate, it occurred to him how quickly this was all happening.

Until three weeks ago, he’d believed that he’d be living in the Underground for the rest of his life. Paying for papers was a lengthy and horribly expensive process. And if he’d somehow scraped his way to the surface illegally, he would’ve had to live in hiding without his documents. Yet here he was, after a life in the dark, all they had to do was make it to the end of the day, and their unattainable dream would be in the palm of their hands. They could all live happily together within the safety of the walls.

He gazed out at the horizon and the vast land set out before his eyes. He could see lush green hills to the east. He heard squawking and turned his focus up to the flock of birds that flew overhead. An unfamiliar feeling of hope blossomed in his chest as he watched their delicate wings, pumping rhythmically in the wind.

“Wow!” Isabel breathed, eyes bright, “Look at all this land!”

“We did it.” Furlan murmured, as he looked to the hills in disbelief.

“It's not bad.” Levi muttered.

“Hey you three! Don’t get too distracted, you’ve never seen a titan in real life, so you need to be prepared!” A female soldier scolded. She was a petite woman who wore long brown pigtails that sat either side of her head. Although Levi couldn’t remember her name, he knew that she’d been pretty helpful to Isabel when they’d first arrived.

“No sweat Kiera! If we see one, we’ll clean it up nice n good for ya!” Isabel chirped. So that’s her name.

“Idiot! Do you want to be the first one to die?” Kiera scolded, giving her a look of disbelief. Isabel winced in embarrassment.

"Sorry Kier-"

“Fifteen meter, up ahead!”

Their faces shot back forward. Levi had had Titans described to him many times before leaving the walls, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the real thing. How could something appear so human, yet so inhuman all at once? The monster sloppily ran over towards their formation, each step it took leaving a resounding thump that seemed to shake even the air. It's beady eyes stared at them mindlessly.

“We’ll take care of this!” Furlan shouted, as he and Isabel shot up to face the titan. The other Scouts in their formation gaped at them in shock.

"What the hell are you guys doing?!" Kiera shouted, eyes wide.

Isabel aimed herself from the front, and Furlan from the back. She raised her blades over her head, and if he had to guess, he would say that she was going for its eyes. But as she did, the Titan shot his hand out and caught her, and she yelped in surprise. Levi’s eyes widened in shock, and without thinking, he propelled himself forwards to free her.

“Levi! I’ve got this!” she shouted, as she sliced its hand open, freeing herself. While she dealt with that, Furlan landed the killing slice on its neck. It staggered, and then collapsed forward, shaking the ground. The three of them landed gracefully down with it. Thank god, he thought, wiping the sweat from his head. Or, he thought it was sweat. He looked up to the sky, and saw that the shadowy clouds had made their way overhead, sprinkling light rain over them.

“Did you see that! We killed it all by ourselves” Isabel gushed. She was practically vibrating with excitement.

“I guess so.” Levi said quietly. He was still recovering from the shock of seeing his friend in danger.

"That was certainly unexpected." Kiera murmured, gazing at them with slight awe.

“You used too much gas.” A voice behind him said. All the heads in the group turned. Levi swivelled around, and met eyes with Captain Erwin, staring down at him from his horse.

“What?”

“You used too much gas. All those movements... they’re unnecessary. They were able to handle it without your intervention.” He answered, with a stony gaze. Levi looked back in disbelief.

“Are you telling me to place our supplies over the lives of our comrades?” he said menacingly, stepping forward. Erwin observed his face, not saying anything, before letting out a long sigh, and turning back to his horse.

“I’m telling you to be more wary of the way you use your resources. They’re scarce out here.” he said, as he got back onto his saddle. "Don't waste them."

With that, he and his squad went charging back from where they came from.

The way he looked down at him, the way he spoke of his friends as if they were expendable pawns in his game, everything about Erwin’s demeanor in that situation sent Levi's chest into a bubbling rage. He couldn't contain himself any longer. It was time to do what he come here for.

“I’m going up ahead.” he said, quietly, adjusting his hood, and hoisting himself back onto his horse. “I’m gonna kill that bastard for sure now.”

Isabel and Furlan shot each other uneasy looks.

“Are ya sure about that?” Isabel asked, turning her head back to him, eyes shrouded with doubt.

“Yeah, maybe it would be better if the three of us stuck together.” Furlan added.

“No, all three of us leaving from our positions would be too obvious.” he said, shaking his head. “If anyone asks where I’ve gone, just tell them that I moved up ahead to survey the land before we moved forward.”

Furlan sighed, before giving him a small, reassured smile.

“Okay, fine.”

“We’ll see you soon, bro!” Isabel grinned, giving him a small wave. Levi nodded, and turned his horse to the opposite direction. He peered back over his shoulder, and watched as their silhouettes got smaller and smaller, until they had completely disappeared into the mist.

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The light drizzle had quickly shifted into a full on downpour, the wind howling, and pushing back against him as he sped after Erwin. This is it, he thought. All of his efforts had led up to this moment. He squinted, though he could hardly see anything through the rain. But he wasn't going to lose him, that was for sure. He’d use the veil of the rain to his advantage in the assassination. He whipped his reins, and his horse leapt forward, letting out a shrill neigh. As he looked onward, he could see a spot where the rain was beginning to clear up, and he steered towards it. When he rode through, his eyes widened in surprise, and he tugged back on his reins just quickly enough to avoid falling down. It was a cliff edge. What the fuck? Where had Erwin gone, then? He scowled. Sneaky bastard, he thought, turning his horse back to regroup with his team. As he rode back, he kept a watchful eye out for the Erwin's group, but to no avail. It was impossible to see past the fog. How does the weather up here change so fast? Suddenly, he saw a figure slowly inching towards him, emerging from the veil of mist. A soldier? He quickly pulled his reins back, to avoid crushing the man's head with his horse. He heard a low, raspy voice coming from below him. A soldier he recognized but didn't know the name of. Dark red blood poured from his head and covered his face. But it didn’t hide the pure terror on his expression as he looked up to Levi, with desperate, wild eyes. He crawled over with his arms, and as he got closer, Levi realized his legs were completely torn off. Levi’s eyes widened as the man stretched a single shaky arm out to him.

“T-the titan… a-an abnormal, i-it came...” he groaned. He spat up some blood, and looked back at him in confusion, “W-where’s Erwin…?”

Levi watched silently as he took his final breath and collapsed on the ground. The world around Levi fell silent. He had come from the direction Levi had. Was this Abnormal back where he’d left Isabel and Furlan? Dread filled the pit of his stomach, as he quickly turned his horse around and began racing through the storm, heart going off like a jackhammer in his chest. How did I not see it when I was coming this way...could I have just passed it? Considering how thick the mist was, and how loudly the rain pounded into the soil, it was entirely possible. But he didn't want to believe it, so he just excluded it as an option mentally. He gripped the reins of his horse tightly, knuckles going a stark white. Please be okay, you two.

Soon, he arrived in the open land where he’d split off from them, straining his eyes to make out what was in front of him. The overwhelming scent of iron flooded his senses, the once bright green land was stained with dark blood. Bodies were strewn sloppily over the grass.

“What the hell happened here…?” he murmured to himself, sliding himself off of his horse. He took slow, steady steps forward, unsheathing his blades, as his eyes darted back and forth, looking for the titan responsible. As he walked, felt his boot kick something. He flinched very slightly, and he looked down to see what it was. When he did, his mind went blank, refusing to process the sight before him.

Isabel.

It was a head. Isabel’s head, completely torn off from her body. Blood gushed from her neck, mixing into a dark pool of rainwater and mud on the ground. Her eyes were still widened in terror, lips slightly parted open. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach as he jolted backwards, breathing heavily. His mind was racing. I left them alone...I should’ve stayed with them… they wanted to stay together… He felt a lump growing in his throat.

"We’ll see you soon, bro!"

He leaned down, reaching out a shaky hand out to stroke her hair, until he saw a large, shadowy figure move from up ahead. He tore his eyes away from Isabel and looked back up. His heart pounded in his ears. There it was. It stood on all fours, muscles pulsating animalistically as it jerked its head violently to the side, tearing off a bite from a soldier, sending their upper half flying into the ground with a resounding splash. He squinted to make out the face of the soldier. Furlan. As his body hit the ground, he let out a guttural cough. His eyes fluttered, flicking wildly back in forth in horror, until finally they stopped, gazing up into the rainy clouds.

He cut its eyes .

He cut its legs .

He cut its shoulders .

He cut its neck.

Again and again.

He cut .

Before he realized it, the monster was long dead. One could barely tell the form it used to take once he was done with it, no more than a lump of flesh and limbs, with rancid steam gushing from the cuts. He panted, his lungs felt like they were on fire. He thought after he brought down it would change something, perhaps he would feel some type of satisfaction after enacting his revenge, but that was not the case. The guilt and sorrow in his chest felt like it would never end, and now that he had gotten the rage out, he was left only with an empty hole in his chest. But he couldn’t cry. He stared blankly down as the monster's body dissipated in front of him. He fell to his knees. This was it. In an instant, their dream was destroyed. Was this the price they paid for wishing to live happily? He wanted to go look for their bodies, but was afraid of how he’d react if he had to look into their cloudy eyes again. Their bright eyes that usually shined so hopefully had been muted. He stared up at the grey sky.

I hate the rain.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

He sat there, staring down at his hands, until eventually, Erwin’s squad found him. He hadn't moved an inch. The rain had finally cleared up, and the sun was beginning to peek through the dark clouds. Erwin pulled himself off his horse, and scanned the scene before him.

“They’re all dead, sir.” Mike Zacharis reported. He was Erwin’s second in command, a tall, broad man, with inhumane instincts.

“So you were the only survivor, then.” Erwin said, shooting a glance at the corpses surrounding Levi. His eyes lingered on the untouched head that sat near Levi’s knee. “How pathetic,” he said, dully.

Levi stared at him in shock. He knew that the Captain was familiar with death, but how could he refer to his subordinates so coldly? To his friends. The rage he’d felt earlier came flooding back to his chest, but this time, it was directed towards the Captain. He shot up from his knees, whipping his sword from its sheath. He leapt over to Erwin, pushing the blade to his neck, but before he could make the cut, Erwin shot his hand out to stop the blade. The Captain's blood dripped slowly down the shaking blade, as Levi glowered at him.

“I’m going to kill you!” he hissed, “That’s why we came here!”

Erwin stared at him. Eyes unwavering, he slowly reached into his cloak, pulling out an envelope, and tossed it on the floor. Levi's eyes widened. The documents.

“The papers I have listing your client's crimes are fake,” he said, coolly. “The real ones have probably reached the Military Police by now.”

Levi's chest grew heavy as the reality of the situation washed over him. He knew all along. He'd been watching them scuttle around like bugs in oblivion for three weeks. It was all for nothing. Their smiling faces flashed through his mind.

"Believe in us, okay?"

“You knew...” he whispered. “You knew, and you still sent us marching out in your shitty death parade!” he shouted, voice shaking.

He shoved away Erwin’s hand from his blade, preparing to slice his throat, adrenaline pumping through every inch of his body. Just as he was about to finish him off, Mike ran up and restrained him, locking him under his large arms.

“Let go of me, you pig!” he roared back at him, but he couldn't escape the man’s grip. At first, he kicked and screamed, eyes deadlocked on the Captain, but eventually, he felt himself tire. Once Mike sensed this, he slowly released him, still eyeing him with caution. But he didn’t chase after Erwin. He slumped down to his knees. He didn’t have any fight left in him, what was there left to fight for? His dreams and his friends died that day. Could he fight for revenge? He’d quickly learned that that would get him nowhere. He stared at the ground. He had nothing to live for anymore. All there was to do now was to sit in the aftermath of his choices, of his actions, everything that had led to this outcome.

“Don’t do that.”

Levi slowly looked back at Erwin.

“...What?”

“Don’t do that. If you continue like this, you’ll be stuck at this point in time for the rest of your life. You still have a full life ahead of you. Don’t let one day weaken your determination. There are still many more to come."

He paused, and gave Levi a look he'd never seen on his expression before. Like he was looking at something beautiful that Levi couldn't see. For a split second, the world around Levi disappeared, and he wanted nothing more than to see whatever Erwin could. He needed it.

"Personally, I believe in a future where we will be free from the curse of the titans.”

Levi stared back at him. His determination to persevere was terrifying. How could he still say that, with the dozens of corpses surrounding him?

“In a couple of months, we will go on another expedition. I expect you to join us.”

Levi didn't say anything. He stared down at the ground. Unexpectedly, one more face flashed through his head.

"Please be safe tomorrow."

He felt hot tears brimming his eyes, but they didn't fall.

I'm sorry, Ms. Librarian.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Octa A-kun’s Heart-Thumping Day!

For the 1200+ follower milestone, here is the next part of the cursed raven’s story!

Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3 l Part 4 l Part 5

Today’s tale involves Octavinelle A-kun in a pinch...?! Fight on, Octa A-kun...! You can do it, Octa A-kun...!!

My name is Kon...! I’m just your average, everyday Octavinelle student. I tend to blend into the background, so a lot of my classmates call me Octa A-kun.

I’d say that my favorite food is salted fish, and I happen to like whatever seems to be popular these days. I have the window seat in my home room. Most of the time, I just go with the flow, but I like to keep my head low and stay out of trouble!

All I really want is a quiet, peaceful life!

...So—you may ask—how, then, did I find myself in this pinch?

An arrow whizzes at Octa A-kun’s head, tearing off his fedora and pinning it to the wall behind him. It just narrowly grazes his hair, ripping off a deep green strand with a sharp jolt. Octa A-kun squeaks in terror and collapses onto his rear end.

“Pardon moi, Monsieur Kelp,” comes the light-hearted chirp of his assailant. A young man in a bob cut steps forth, a bow in his hands and a quiver strapped to his back. The billowy white feather tucked in his hat bounces with each stride. “I was in need of some early morning target practice.”

Third year and Pomefiore vice-dorm leader, Rook Hunt, according to the rumors. Be wary of him--once he fixates on something, he will not relent.

“A-Ahahaha...I-It’s fine, senpai!” Octa A-kun stutters, scrambling back onto his feet. He glances at his poor hat, skewered clean through--he’d have to file a request for a replacement later. Azul would charge a fee for it--with interest.

“Ah, how merciful you are, Monsieur Kelp~” Rook laughs as he approaches, each step in his boots the resounding thump-thump of a predator on the prowl.

Octa A-kun shrinks against the wall. “U-Um...! Do you need something from me, senpai...?!”

“Hohoh. How perceptive of you.” Rook plucks his arrow--and Octa A-kun’s hat--and holds his weapon up in the sunlight, his green eyes focusing on the gleam of the arrow’s dagger-like tip. “I’ve merely come for a query, my friend! No need to make such a frightened face.”

“Just a question i-is fine. But it has to be a quick one...! I have to meet up with my partner for a project...”

“But of course. I will not keep you for long.” He tucks the arrow back into his quiver and replaces Octa A-kun’s hat upon his head. “Be honest with me--that is all that I ask of you.”

Rook maintains the curve to his lips as he brings his face closer to his prey. His smile darkens, and the glimmer in his eyes fades into something far more cruel.

“...You would not happen to have been sent by one Roi de Fort, have you? To, perhaps, spy on a little black bird?”

Octa A-kun pales. Sweat collects on his forehead. A lump forms in his throat.

“I-I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT...!!” he blurts out.

Unconvincingly.

Rook’s eyes narrow. “I have requested for you to speak naught but the truth, have I not?”

He reaches out and takes ahold of Octa A-kun’s collar, pulling him close--so close that the poor boy can make out his own fear-stricken expression in the green of Rook’s eyes.

The hunter still smiles, his teeth a stark, blinding white.

He’s beautiful, Octa A-kun realizes. Beautiful, but deadly.

“Y-You’re being r-really scary, senpai...! P-Please don’t bully me...!”

“La vérité, Monsieur Kelp?”

A drop of sweat races down Octa A-kun’s profile. Pupils dilated, breath hitching, body trembling.

In the distance, a bell tolls--granting him an opportunity to escape.

“Would you look at the time...!! I...I really gotta go now!! M-My project partner’s waiting for me, ahahaha...!! E-Excuse me!” Octa A-kun shouts shaking from Rook’s grip and sidestepping the hunter.

He begins to speed walk away, hands balled into fists and arms swinging stiffly, when Rook calls out to him.

“...Monsieur Kelp.”

Against his better judgement, Octa A-kun dares to glance back.

Rook is staring right at him, his gaze piercing.

“Know this: if you betray her, there will be more for you to worry about than damaged articles of clothing.”

And with that remark, Rook allows his prey to retreat.

But he watches every step of the way.

Until Octa A-kun is nothing more than a dot in the distance.

“Welcome to my roost,” Raven declares with the wave of her hand. “Ignore the mess, and make yourself at home.”

“D-Don’t mind if I do,” Octa A-kun says, carefully ducking into the attic space.

Mess is a bit of an understatement. Raven’s room is piled high with tomes, loose papers scattered on the floor and smears of ink all over.

Tucked away in a corner appears to be a mattress, with a blanket in a nest-like shape, a pillow laid in the center. A bookshelf overflows with volumes on ancient curses, while a strange teardrop shaped seat, decorated with ribbons and wisteria, hangs by a window.

Set upon a large desk is a snuffed out candle, a quill set with a magic gemstone, and several empty bottles and blank labels. A basket spills out its contents--herbs, flowers, and fungi--next to a mortar and pestle.

What really catches Octa A-kun’s attention, however, is the strange collection of glass apparatuses and tubes that line the desk. A small flame dances under the rounded part of a flask, heating up a rose-gold concoction.

“Looks like you keep pretty busy, huh?”

“You could say that. I like to remain productive.”

Octa A-kun offers a timid smile. “Um, if I may ask, what is it that you’ve got brewing at your desk...? I-I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

Raven pauses.

“...Do you know that feeling of rediscovering a part of yourself you thought you had once lost? Or the rose-tinted glasses which clouds one’s vision? The wonderfulness of meeting an old friend? Think of those things, set in the color of dawn, beckoning a new day.”

“E-Eh?” Octa A-kun combs his brain for a response. “Uh...you mean nostalgia?”

“Precisely. This is my latest creation--Nostalgia. It took me two whole weeks to get this new ink color just right, but it shall be lovely to write with.” Raven puffs up a bit with pride. “Oh, but enough about my personal projects. We need to work on that Magic History assignment, yes?”

“Y-Yes. That report on Unique Magic Development...” Octa A-kun’s eyes follow Raven’s hand as it trails over a series of books on a shelf.

Hexes, and How to Break Them. True Love’s Kiss: Panacea or Poison? Ancient Curses: A Collection of Anecdotes. Journal of Magic Medicine, Issue 32: Jinx Edition.

“Ah, here it is.” Raven fishes out a maroon book with a few sticky notes jutting out of it--Unique Magic: Nature & Nurture--and hands it to Octa A-kun, along with a spare quill, an inkwell, and a fresh sheet of paper.

She gestures toward the seat adorned with wisteria. “Have a seat and work on your half of the report. I’ll be working on my half at my desk after I clean up. We can compare our halves and edit as is necessary when both parts are complete.”

He complies, sitting where he is directed and flipping open Unique Magic: Nature & Nurture.

Two sticky notes immediately pop out at him. One sports a list of various unrelated words (Nostalgia, Sorrow, Regret, and an L word that appears to have been blotted out, left illegible).

The other sticky note has a little diagram labelled Unique Magic, a heart in the center with arrows pointing outward. Needs faith, trust, and a little pixie dust, one arrow remarks. Infusion of feelings requires experience, says another. Practice with Nostalgia, a third states.

Octa A-kun slowly lifts his eyes from the page--carefully watching Raven tidying up her desk.

With the flick of her magical pen--or quill, rather--she extinguishes the flame beneath her flask and sets it into a test tube rack to cool. Raven collects her plants into a basket and tucks them under the desk, along with the rest of her glassware. Then she gathers stray papers and pops open her drawer to stow them away--

And that’s when Octa A-kun catches a glimpse of it.

An unopened letter, in a pale blue envelope.

To My Dearest Raven scrawled across it.

“...And that is the g-gist of it,” Octa A-kun concludes his report, “dorm leader.”

“Excellent work, Kon-san. You efforts are greatly appreciated.” From behind his ornate office desk, Azul clasps his hands together and beams. “I suppose there is no longer any need for Floyd to pay your friends in Pomefiore and Scarabia a little visit.”

“Boooo,” Floyd groans from beside him.

“Th-Thank you for your kindness, dorm leader!” Octa A-kun gushes--if only to (poorly) mask his own fears. He wants to sink into the couch cushions and disappear like sea foam. “B-But...But if I can make a request, sir!”

“What is it?” Azul sounds mildly annoyed, but Octa A-kun steels his courage and persists.

“Um...i-if possible, can you assign s-someone else to check on Miss Raven? I-I’m scared of what Rook-senpai will do to me if I make the wrong mo--EEP!!”

Before he has even finished his sentence, Floyd is flying at him like a shark tearing through water.

WHAM!

Octa A-kun screams as Floyd’s foot connects with the couch, boxing him in and nearly knocking the furniture over. Azul’s glasses flash a pure white, and he makes no move to restrain the feral eel.

“What was that, Konbu-chan?” Floyd asks--no, demands--as he leers down at him. Teeth gnashing. “Did I hear you right? Umineko-kun got in the way?”

“E-Eeeep! Ch-Chill out, Floyd-senpai! You’re...you’re scaring me!!” Octa A-kun whimpers, his poor heart pounding out of his chest.

“Speak freely, Kon-san,” Azul prompts, waving a gloved hand to silence Floyd--but his tone is just as icy and cruel as the eel’s eyes. “What is this I hear about...interference?”

“W-Well...h-he seemed to know that you sent me. And he said he might...do things if I make a misstep.” Octa A-kun furiously shakes his head. “I’ll need a replacement hat after th-that encounter...I-I’m sorry, dorm leader, but I r-really don’t want to be involved in this any more than I have to...!”

Azul leans back in his chair, and his face settles into a serious expression.

“Uwaaah, Jade wasn’t kiddin’ when he said Umineko-kun was guarding Black Pearly like a shark on sunken treasure,” Floyd flicks his tongue along his teeth, which gleam dangerously under the lights of the VIP room. “Even the low level lackies get chewed up and spat out, ehehehe~”

“This is not funny, Floyd. This just makes things that much more difficult,” Azul snaps, pushing his glasses up.

“It’s fine, it’s fiiine,” Floyd insists dismissively with a giggle. “I’ll just follow Konbu-chan--and if that creep Umineko-kun gets close, I’ll beat’em bloody~”

“I-Isn’t that a bit extreme?!” Octa A-kun protests, only to earn a withering glare from Floyd.

“Shut your trap, guppy. No one asked for your opinion,” Floyd hisses--then his expression brightens considerably when he addresses his dorm leader. “Ne, ne, Azul! Can I, can I?”

“Absolutely not. We still need to collect more information before taking such drastic action,” Azul says, his voice tinged with irrtation. “Might I remind you, Floyd, that Octavinelle is, once again, in poor standing with the headmaster? It would not do to further tarnish our reputation with another incidence report.”

“Laaaame~” Floyd pouts, backing away from Oct A-kun. “I’m not allowed to do anything fun anymore.”

“As I was saying,” Azul continues, ignoring the eel, “thank you for bringing this to my attention, Kon-san. Your work here is done--you are relieved from your duties until further notice. Dismissed.”

“Y-Yessir!! Th-Thank you so much, sir!” Octa A-kun breathes a massive sigh of relief. He is quick to gather his coat and hat, then bow to his senpais and hurriedly exit.

Azul pinches the bridge of his nose.  “...This will become a problem if it persists.”

“I don’t get it, Azul!” Floyd whines loudly, slamming his hands on his dorm leader’s desk. “Why don’t we just kidnap Black Pearly already and make her ‘n Jade ‘fess up? That’d be sooo much easier than dancing around Umineko-kun!”

“That is not how proper reconciliation works, Floyd,” Azul points out. “If we are to fix this mess, then we cannot hope to resolve it overnight.”

He thinks of the details Octa A-kun had divulged--the countless books that litter Raven’s abode, the fixation on work, the strangely named ink, the interest in curses...Surely they must all mean something.

He pauses, before adding, “...I feel as though I am missing a vital piece of the puzzle.”

“Ehhhh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Call it...octopus’s intuition. There is something bigger at play here, something far more powerful than you or I can comprehend.” Azul folds his arms. “And if we intend to bring back Miss Raven into Jade’s arms, then that is one puzzle piece we must find.”

“Hmmm.” Floyd leans down, peering into Azul’s solemn face--then breaks out into a toothy grin. “Ne, ne, you really care a lot about Jade, don’t you?”

“Hmph. Don’t be ridiculous,” Azul snaps, lips pursing into a straight line. “This is merely a case of an employer fretting over the well being of his employee. Jade cannot perform at his best if he is emotionally distressed. I am simply doing my due diligence as his employer to ensure that he is content--it benefits the business.”

“Ehehehe~ In the end, Azul’s heart is juuust as squishy and soft as his octopus form~” The eel wraps his arms around Azul, squeezing the dorm leader against his chest. “That’s sooo cute~”

“FLOYD, DO NOT PRESUME TO KNOW MY INTENTIONS...!! AND UNHAND ME THIS INSTANT!”

“Nope! Don’t wanna~”

Octa A-kun is halfway down the corridor when a hand clamps down--hard--onto his shoulder. The student squeaks in terror as he is whipped around--and comes face-to-face with his smiling vice-dorm leader.

“Good evening, Kon-san,” Jade says nonchalantly, his tone light but his aura dark. “Might I have a moment with you?”

For the third time that day. Octa A-kun’s stomach sinks--but he lacks both the strength and the willpower to resist.

“S-Sure...Wh-What is it?”

Jade cranes his head down, his single golden eye glowing despite his sinister shadow. “I have received word that you have been snooping around campus. Naughty, naughty Kon-san. You should know better.”

Octa A-kun instinctively takes a step back, putting some distance between him and his vice-dorm leader--the information broker of Octavinelle. No secret can evade him, it seems.

“Th-The dorm leader asked me to...!” he confesses, cheeks turning pink in embarrassment.

“Please, be at ease. I do not bite,” Jade says smoothly, chuckling into his glove. “Now then, my sources tell me that you happened upon Miss Raven’s quarters. Is this correct?”

“Y-Yes...”

“Then let me ask this of you--did you, by chance, see a blue envelope?”

“Blue envelope...” Octa A-kun’s eyes light up in realization. “A-Ah, I do seem to recall seeing something like that. She...She keeps it in a drawer. It was unopened.”

“Unopened...?” Jade repeats the word carefully, as though handling a delicate artifact. He brings a hand to his chin in contemplation, his brows furrowing. “It is no wonder why she continues to behave in such a vehement manner,” he mumbles under his breath.

“Um...vice-dorm leader? Is everything alright?” Octa A-kun asks nervously.

“...No. It is nothing, I assure you.” Jade composes himself, smiling once more--this time, without a hint of darkness to it. “Think nothing of it, dear Kon-san. Please, do retire for the night--that was all I wished to know, fufu.”

“O-Of course, vice-dorm leader...”

Jade sees him off with a polite wave.

Octa A-kun waits until Jade is completely out of sight before he collapses into a heap on the ground. He clutches onto his stomach, which twists and knots with fright, and sniffles softly to himself.

Why, oh, why was he not sorted into a normal dorm with normal non-scary students and normal, healthy relationships with their peers? No, instead he’s trapped in the mermaid mafia and witnessing Overblot incidents every single month.

Go to Night Raven College, they said. It’d be fun, they said. You’ll get a great education, they said.

J-Just...Just give me a quiet, peaceful life already...!!

[theodora3022]

Since you wrote about Yandere Villians with Y/N having a cute fairy quirk, how about a Yandere Hero having a Y/N with a monstrous quirk? SO...you pick the hero! Pick any male hero who you believe can handle Y/N. You do such amazing writing.

Y/N have to wear a face mask to hide the muzzle she wears going outside. Y/N have a quirk where she goes on a frenzy. Her eyes turn red, her veins pop out of her skin, she starts growling and trying to bite anyone near by. A monster who craves to rip flesh and bones. Y/N can turn on her quirk if she feels so much anger or fear. Y/N doesn't want to hurt anyone. She wants to live a quiet and alone life.

Wolf

Pairing: Best Jeanist x f!reader

Warnings: light yandere content, power abuse, threats

Thank you so much for the compliment, dear anon! I went soft with the monster idea that I just made the reader into a werewolf...hope it is still good! I was torn between Kiri and Best Jeanist! I really like Best Jeanist, I wish he got some more screen time ... Maybe I’ll do another one for the shark boy later.

Some groundwork:

When your quirk manifested at four years old, you were not surprised: you come from a family of Mutant quirks, after all.

Your quirk, wolf, means you can transform into a wolf anytime. The longevity is unknown to you since you barely use it. Even in your normal human form, you still have wolf ears and tail. You also have a sensitive nose, just like canines. You (hair color) fluffy fur is the same color as your hair. In acient times, before quirks become a thing, you would be seen as a werewolf.

While transformed, it is hard to supress the wolf’s wild instincts, the desire to hunt, to kill and consume raw meat (extremely difficult if you are hungry). You hate it, being like a beast instead of human. You had outbursts in the past that nearly killed one of your friends. There fore you stay in human at all times.

So most of the time, you just kept a muzzle near you, just in case you would lose yourself to the beast again.

You always feel this...strange sense of difference between you and normal people, so all of your friends have mutant quirks. You kept your social circle small, only letting those who are deemed trustworthy close to you (you told them to run if they see any signs of you getting wild)

You always had a soft spot for animals, therefore you decided to work in a pet shop. Dogs especially loves you, maybe because your canine quirk. Cats not so much, as they had left quite a few marks on you when you just started.

Now you are the assistant manager, the salary is decent, so you do not look for anything more. You never thought of having a romantic relationship because you do not trust yourself: you do not want to hurt the person you love. So even if you had crushes you just kept those feelings hidden until they went away.

Best Jeanist/Tsunagu Hakamada

Did you know his favorite animal is wolf? Therefore he is a furry

Being the No.4 pro hero means taking on lots of stress, so Tsunagu decides to have an animal friend at home who he can talk to freely, without worrying leaking information (I mean how can animals pass on information).

He went into the nearest pet shop, hoping to find a furry companion, preferably dogs.

What he did not expect is to find you there, with those literal puppy eyes and fluffy ears sticking out of your hair, tending to the puppies.

Tsunagu met people with similar quirks before, and he finds them aesthetically pleasing. But seeing you with a litter of adorable puppies, laughing and petting them? He felt like his heart just melted.

“Hello sir. How may I help you today?” You put on your usual smile. Tsunagu is wearing his civilian clothes, so he is just another customer to you. A fashionable one, though. You took notice at his stylish blonde hair.

Tsunagu would ask you about all the options for adopting a puppy. However he is only half-listening: he is drawn to how your ears twitch towards any abnormal sounds...

“Oh, my ears? Sorry if they are distracting. It’s part of my quirk.”

Would get you to talk to him as much as possible, with lots of polite questions.

When you bid him good day as he walks out the door, holding a poodle puppy with its supplies, Tsunagu is determined to see you more.

You are warm, like a ray of sunlight in this stormy world. Having worked as a pro hero for so long, dealing with many negative things so often, make him attracted to positive people. Those furry wolf ears and tail only added to his admiration.

Whenever Best Jeanist is not needed at his agency, Tsunagu Hakamada would find excuses to drop by your shop. Whether it be buying new accessories for his puppy or simply need some advice on her, he would find a way to talk to you, to hear your voice.

Until he become acquainted with you enough, Tsunagu finally asked for you name.

“I’m (y/n), and you, sir?” “Tsunagu. Tusnagu Hakamada.”

Never have once you associated your friendly customer with the No.4 Pro hero of Japan. Tsunagu is charismatic and talkative (at least to you), never putting on airs like Endeavor. Since he wears a mask, the public does not have a good idea what he looks like.

Then you noticed those small gestures, how Tsunagu’s hands would “unintentionally” brush against yours when you hand over his paid items, how his body would lean in slightly towards you whenever you are talking. Or how his lips would curl upwards whenever your tails wags with excitement. You also seen him way more frequently compare to average customers.

“He got a crush on you.” One of you co workers, teases after Tsunagu left the store.

“No he doesn’t.” You blush, although considering her hypothesis.

You seen some of his clothes in fashion magazines, one of them costs more then your monthly salary. Tsunagu is clearly a rich man, a fashion designer perhaps.

“Ms.(y/n), sorry if this sounds intrusive, but do you have a lover?”

That was...unexpected. “No, I do not. Why did you ask, Mr. Hakamata?”

That saves him trouble. Best Jeanist has got this flawless reputation for years, he prefers not to taint it. But if he must, Tsunagu would not hesitate. You belong with him, and him only. “Well, it’s possible such a beautiful lady like you already has a significant other.”

“Mr. Hakamata...I-” You were not sure to blush or to smile. Now it is clear to you: This blonde is interested in you. However you do not know what to respond.

“Call me Tsunagu, please.”

The next day you would find a lily bouquet wrapped in denim on the store counter?! Who use that as a bouquet wrapper? Flatter as you are, you still find this unsettling. He did not show up for the rest of the day, which gives you time to think.

Tsunagu is handsome and kind. He seems like a perfect choice, but you wonder what he would say if he saw you as a bloodthirsty wolf, feral and hungry for killing.

You decide to turn him down, not wanting to give him false hope.

Some minor villain is causing trouble in the streets when you were walking home. You were just going to sprint away at first, but in the corner of your eye you saw a mother with her toddler daughter being corner by the villain. The way the mother tries to protect her child triggered something in you. You have to do something!

“Grr!!!” Suddenly a piece of flesh is ripped off the villain’s leg. The villain screams in pain, but you dodged every last one of his attacks while leaving deep bite marks on him. Soon the sidewalk is stained crimson with blood. You know the two had already gotten away, you should stop now. But the wolf instincts got the better of you. You crave blood, lots of it. The growing pool under you is not enough.

You heard police sirens, someone yelling for you to stop, but the wolf is not willing to. It seems it would not be satiated unless this villain dies a brutal death.

Streams of fibers wrapped around you, restraining you until you cannot move anymore.

When you regained consciousness, you were in a clean jail cell, still in your wolf form. You assumed that you are being confined in a hero agency since you just lost control.

The door cracked. It is Tsunagu! What is he doing here? And why is he wearing a jean mask?

Then you saw the rest of his outfit. Demin jeans suit from head to toe, the...the No.4?

He is Best Jeanist? What is happening now?

Tsunagu wanted to take things slow, he wanted to date you normally, letting you know everything about him, but this seems like too good of an oppertunity to pass up.

“(y/n), can you understand me?” He crouches down with a concerned look on his face.

You nod. You are not able to speak human languages while in wolf form, another draw back.

“Do your clothes come back when you transform? Or do you need some clothes?”

You left your clothes behind a dumpster before, so you just shook your head. If you were to transform now, it could be quite embarrassing.

Handing you a denim dress, Best Jeanist leaves to give you some privacy to change.

After you are dressed and back in human form, he took you to his office.

“I know you must have lots of question right now, but please allow me to explain somethings first.”

“The villain is in bad shape. You did quite a bit damage on him. His blood loss is immense; he is still in the ICU as we speak.”

Why don’t you just let him die, he’s a threat to society anyway. You ask yourself, silently.

“However, while he is a villain, you still hurt him too much. And it’s not even self-defence. You are not a hero, it’s illegal.”

You tense up. Would you face charges for this? For trying to protect other people.

“Would I go to Tartarus? For how long?”

“Oh, come now. As long as I have any say , I won’t allow that to happen.” Your eyes lit up, wanting to thank him.

“You can be my wife instead. Stay with me, and no charges would be pressed.”

What?

You know he likes you, but just asking to become his wife like that? Without dating first.

“Tsunagu, I... you...this...” He finds your stutters cute, as he traces his fingers along the edge of your wolf ears. Best Jeanist had been wanting to do that for so long, he worked so hard to restrain himself.

“Your choice. Either face court charges, or you can be with me, all is well.”

Tsunagu Hakamada is confident about his chances. An innocent, adorable civilian like you will not last long even in the most outer cells of Tartarus.

Tears slides down your chin as you give a reclutant reply. “I’ll...be with you.”

Who could have thought Tsunagu would do such a thing? He is always so nice and friendly. But now here he is, threatening you with this crime?

“Perfect.” Snapping a denim collar around your neck, he lifts your chin, forcing you to look up to him. “I can’t wait to get you home; you would be such a lovely little wolf. My little wolf.”

“Should you ever try to leave me, I’m sure Tartarus is always avaliable.”

[fenheart87]

Trading Circle of Hell

@semi-slaughtomatic happy belated birthday doll! I will be cross posting to AO3 later as well but I wanted to get this out there now that its done!

-start-

"Welcome welcome! Females to the left and males to the right! Look for anyone with a purple butterfly mask to make your purchase or ask for more information on our unique invenitory! Rumor has it our esteemed kings shall be here today, make your selection quick for I fear even I wouldn't dare say no to them...."

Viperion scanned the room in disgust, cages with humans, demons, various kinds of fae and more supernaturals were lined and spaced very strategically. Only one or two people could view a 'selection' at a time and there were plenty to choose from.

"This is not what I was expecting." Chat Noir spoke up, teeth bared in rage at what he was seeing. They had been tipped off there was an underground market, an illegal one even by demon standards, and here was the proof right in front of their eyes.

"Easy Plagg, we have time to browse and choose carefully from the... Inventory."

"Yeah yeah Sass, kumbyyah and all. I want one with spirit."

"I want one with some brains, the traps keep killing people." Sass responded, sharing a smirk with his companion and drawing his hood closer to his face. The last thing they needed was for someone to recognize them as they were investigating this horrid black market before they could shut it down. The problem with the recon mission was that they needed to be stealthy and being the Snake and Black Cat made them the best choice, even if they had more favorable morals and senses of justice within them unlike many other demons. It was the secret that made them good rulers and their following loyal to them and them alone.

"Welcome gentleman! Forgive me I have spent too much time topside lately, is there anything specific you happen to be looking for? Someone for manual labor or more physical labor in the place of rest?" The Showrunner as he chose to title himself wisely decided to not touch either of them like he had for many of the other buyers.

"I need someone with a firey spirit and tough enough to withstand the Hell Fires."

"Oh, you must live under our illustrious leader Chat Noir then, pray tell would a dragon suffice good sir?" Beady eyes were shining in glee as Plagg exchanged a glance with Sass.

"Depends on the age and gender, perhaps you can direct me where I could find such one?"

"Of course, in the front row at the very end of the left side. A Longg follower that is quite the spirited miss. And for you fellow good sir?"

"I need someone smart and cunning, quick as a mouse if you will,"

"Ah I wish we could've acquried a Mullo follower but alas not this round... I do however have a special quiet thing that could fit the bill if you're interested?"

"Perhaps, show me your inventory and I may still need to browse, I have other stations that could be filled if I do not find someone to my liking." Sass followed the leader and hid his disgust with all of his being, he wanted nothing more than to poison the man with a quick strike. The cages had various states of captured folk in various stages of distress or anger, the collars adorning their necks were equipped to restrain their unique talents and powers, preventing any type of escape from their cages. Guards and hired demons of lower levels were mingling around the crowd should someone get lucky enough to successfully escape from behind the bars.

"Here we have a pretty little thing but awfully quiet. she does have a voice but her glare usually speaks for her, I have had some issues with one so she is at a discounted price, only 150 thousand."

Sass raised a brow at the price, many of the others were easily going for ten times as much for a starting bid. Either she was too much to handle for the ring leader or she was damaged in some way. Finally looking at the cage, his breath caught. He would know those blue eyes anywhere and was glad that his self control was damn good. Her resemblance to her parents was uncanny, even if they had not been seen by a single eye in over 200 years.

"She's a looker but anyone who dares to get too close suffers, unless that's your type of ah, fun shall we say?"

"I'll take her, she'll make an excellent addition to the baker's guild. If she turns out she can't bake well, I'm sure she could plead to Tikki for help before she became the next meal."

"Very well, as with everyone else I'll collect the payment before the next round and after inventory has been checked and secured, you can take it home with you. If anything else catches your eye, please let me know." With that, the Showman left to prey on other prospective buyers and Sass glanced around, noticing only a few other demons looking at the few cages with interest. It was safe enough he supposed.

"Tell me little one, do you like sweets or cheese?" Pulling carefully on his power, he let flow enough to touch his eyes, making them turn mint green and seeing her eyes flash a pale pink, drawing a gasp from that luscious mouth. "So you are a true Mullo follower then."

"Snake." She murmured and smiled sweetly, eyes flashing once more.

"Black cat is here too, the Longg follower is coming with us and this place is done for." Sass whispered, directing his gaze towards the other side where he could see Plagg was prowling and looking at everything with a calculating gaze, casing the entire space.

"Kagami?" She whispered so softly he nearly missed it, drawing his attention and she flushed pink as she shrunk down.

"Well then, even better. Plagg, if you're ready I am. Nothing else has caught my interest."

"Good, let's find the Showman and collect." The green of his iris was gleaming, a yellow tint coloring them acid and the barely concealed rage shining. Their aura made everyone scurry away from their path as they followed the twists and turns through the cages.

"Ah, is there a problem, good sirs?" The Showman was on guard, eyes narrowed and watching carefully for any signs of aggression.

"Ah, he's a devout follower of Lord Viper himself, very covetous this one is. Terribly sorry but it would be in everyone's best interest if we were to collect and leave the place in one piece." Plagg smiled, fangs fully on display which kicked up the tension a few notches.

"Ah we can certainly make an exception but the prices do change for those in a hurry to get to the breaking in part. Do you have your own collars for your purchases?"

"Now now, it's not nice to insult paying customers, good sir." A black gloved hand produced two simple collars, the scent of ash faintly stirring the air.

"Ah, this way then." With a couple of gestures, two lizard demons who posed at security moved through the crowds and collected the cages, going down a different hallway then the trio did. The lanterns glowed eerily with the Hell Fire flames, Plagg and Sass having to bite back their power to prevent a surge in the flames and revealing themselves to the scum they were forced to follow.

"Alright, very simple to do. I'll deactivate the collars and you can place yours, once secure then I'll remove the standard ones. Precautions you know…"

Sharing a glance they split and stood in front of their chosen. The slimey demon brought over two charged stem crystals and with a small fizz of power the collars were deactivated. Sass noted the little mouse seemed upset but not scared as expected, carefully he stepped closer and leaned down slightly to secure the 'collar', a small whisp of smoke puffed to signal the lock was in place. Taking the other charged stem, the Showman waved it nearby and the slave collars fell off into his hands.

"Thank you for your time and interest gentleman, enjoy your investments!" Waving them to follow one of the guards and the other bringing up the rear, the four made their way out of the illegal catacombs market. Continuing on for a few tense miles until they were sure the guards had indeed returned, they stopped.

"Alright, introductions! I would happen to be Chat Noir, ruler of all the darkness and destruction. For stealth purposes please refer to me as Plagg."

"Viperion, Lord of Time and Incubi. Code name Sass."

"Kagami, a devout Longg follower. I work under the name Ryuoko." The dragon dusted herself off nonchalantly, eyes piercing in their intent to gage how much of a threat the two lords were.

"Multimouse, a converted Mullo follower."  Viperion ignored the sly grin and everything that it said from his fellow demon lord.

"So what's the plan?" Ryuoko asked, smirking.

"Well, do what we do best…" Blue eyes turned a shimmering green and emerald green took on an acid yellow green shine.

"Destroy those who break the Seven Hells contract." Each collar shifted into a choker, a reaction to the sudden leak of power from demon lords, this would boost both female demon's powers as well as protect them. The time of reckoning was at hand.

[yconic]

Can you do “We went to school together but haven’t seen each other in a long time and wow have you gotten tall.” With stony pls?

Sure!! Sorry this took so long lol, things were hectic. Hope this is what you looked for :>

∆∆∆

"Tall. Beard. Tall. Handsome. Tall. Cute. "

"Tony, " Rhodey had that barely restrain amusement clinging to his tone, the familiar note he had whenever Tony was being his trademark ridiculous self and he was getting a great kick out of it, but Tony was too preoccupied with oogling Steve to care. "Either kiss the poor guy or let him go."

Naturally, Tony's supposedly genius mind chooses to glitch at the moment he intended to dish a smartass quip or witty one liner, all he give is a small, high pitched "Huh? "

Rhodey holds back a laugh, but the way he bites the inside of his cheek gives him away. "You've been holding Steve's face for like 10 minutes now."

Huh. It's true, Tony realizes, as if he can only now see the pair of warm blue eyes looking down at him, shadowed with a fondness that makes his heart stop for a good second. His hands are cupping Steve's grinning face, and tries not to blush at how Steve nuzzled into his palm, not at all inadequated by the predicament he's in. "I'm good here, actually."

"This is hard to watch, " the scary shadow with the name of Bucky comments from Steve's side, eyeing Sam's back frame from his spot at the bar (Because Tony went through enough bullshit in high school, the least this reunion could amend for him is to be held in a bar)

Tony doesn't think anyone has the right to judge or blame him. This is Steve, the same little spitfire with heroic streak miles wide from the North pole that could barely touch shoulders with him in their youth. With Tony, who, although sulkily, knows was the shortest in his class.

Who, now, was smiling brightly down at him with a small but prominent blush dusting his fair features. Tony pouted, not missing the way Steve tracked the movement. "God. Did they give you Popeye's canned spinach in the army, or something? Who let you be this tall?"

Steve's eyebrow quirks upwards, in synch with his lips. "Well, who let you be this pretty?"

Twin groans of disgust leave Rhodey and Bucky at once, both of course painfully unimpressed by their spectacle. Tony will deny it for the rest of his life even with the photographic evidence Rhodey most likely took, that he did not, in fact, flushed in pleasure at that compliment.

"Wow, " he mutters, clearing his throat so the break in his words is less noticeable, asaa last-minute attempt to dignify himself. "Well, it's a good thing the boldness remained intact. I always did say it'll get you in trouble, but it was also my favorite thing about you, so I can't really complain."

But Steve always had a more timid side to him, one that Tony loved as well, something very gracious and modest only men with old souls have, and he could still spot it now by how Steve ducked his head then as it did years ago. His younger self shined through his actions and it was more than endearing.

"Well, didn't do me much good back then after all, when I... There's really no nice way of phrasing this, when I left you on Prom, " Steve winced, eyes soft and apologetic. "Still sorry about that, by the way. "

"It was a dick move, " Bucky nodded. "Natasha beat his ass for it, if it's any consolation."

Tony sighed in the inside, anticipating this moment. He would've been more affected, probably, if that hadn't been the precise motivation that lead to him attending the event. He never had the chance to question Steve's change of heart as he enlisted as soon as he could, without as much as a peek back and no word of goodbye for Tony.

It had hurt terribly, back then, when he was young and deadset on letting the anger stew in him, but as the years stacked on top of each other he learned to move on, and the little grudge he held for his high school sweetheart turned into a curiosity, declining from a stab of pain to a subdued aching.

His feelings for Steve remained as strong as they were since the blonde asked him on their first date, which, he realized was more than pitiful, still harboring emotions for something as little as High School romance, for someone who most likely moved on.

But he needed to know, even when knowing it wouldn't do much to squash the crush that gradually blossomed into something... More. On his part, at least.

Tony forced a smile on his lips and shrugged, taking his hands back so he could play with the warm amber of his whiskey glass, promptly ignoring the saddened shade taking home in Steve's look. "No hard feelings, Captain Crunch. If I wasn't trapped in this objectively hot body, I'd ditch myself too."

The air felt heavier somehow, an imaginary weight falling over them, even with the faux chipper in Tony's joke. Rhodey must have taken notice because he grabbed Bucky's arm, excusing them to the bathroom. Not before he looked directly at Steve and did a slit motion across his throat using his thumb, making Tony snort.

Quietly, Steve took the smaller man's hands into his own, lacing their fingers together. Tony gasped slightly at the tender gesture, but didn't pull back or encouraged Steve to let him go. Steve took that as permission to go on.

"First of all, " Steve's voice took that firm edge it possessed back then, even with his weak lungs that gasped for breath after every P.E. class he was determined to attend because he refused to be left out. " don't talk about yourself that way. You know how much I hate it. Second of all, if I could punch my old self for making you think I wanted to ditch you, I would."

"He'd probably die because he would not hesitate to fight you, " a small smile graced Tony's lips, feeling more real than he felt comfortable with. "Can I just... Ask why? I mean, you don't owe me an explanation or anything, we were kids, it's not that big of a deal, but I mean... If I did something, I'd like to at least know.''

Steve sighed, his own smile sad and barely there. "Would you believe me if said I didn't show up because I couldn't fit into my Pa's suit?"

Tony giggled. '' You're still shit at lying. Steve, " his own tone softened slightly, squeezing Steve's large hands, rough skinned with callouses, but still comforting. "Just tell me."

"... I didn't wanna embarrass ya, " the confession left Tony flabbergasted. Blinking slowly, as if he just mishear something. His words failed him, but nodded, processing, giving Steve the Que. "Tony, you just... Ya were a big shot, you know? You were handsome, rich, smart, popular, everything everyone wanted to be.

Everyone had their eyes on you, your father, the school, the media. It was bad enough you were dating a guy, but being taken to prom by one who looked like me back then? It would've, it just, - it would've been humiliating. I couldn't do that to you. Not only was I a riff raff, I was too skinny, I was ugly, I was, -"

"You stop that right the hell now, Steven, " Tony growled, sharply, so sharp it made Steve shut his mouth with an audible click. "There wasn't and isn't even one ugly thing about you, do you understand me? Riff raff- Steve you had a job since you were 15! You helped paying bills even if you shouldn't have, because you wanted to help your parents. What's embarrassing about that? Do you really think I give a fuck about how much money you made?"

"Tony, - I've seen the people you dated after we graduated , " Steve sounded wounded as he said it. Tony wanted to kiss all his pain away as his life depended on it. "I could've never compete with that, - Hell, for some, I still couldn't compete. I was less than dust put next to them. "

"I didn't care!" He might have been a bit loud, because some heads were turned, yet quickly retreated after the death glare they received from the angry brunette.

"Steve. I liked you because you gave your food to the homeless in every lunch period, because you volunteered at canteens with your mom and because you kept on drawing me every day for 4 years. Because you were outspoken, and funny, and kind, and cared so much about other people. Because you treated me so damn well. These people that you mentioned, they didn't treat me half as good as you did. I didn't give a shit what the world had to say about it. Between the world and you, I pick you. I'll always pick you."

Steve listened. Steve nodded. And Steve cried. One trembling hand wiped at wet eyes, and Tony resisted the urge to take his hand back and press comforting pecks on it.

Inhaling and exhaling, Steve got a grip on himself, wet laugh puffing out. It made Tony's chest hurt. "God, I was such a fucking idiot, huh? I, - I knew you wouldn't care, I knew, but I still went ahead and - God, I'm so sorry sweetheart. " Laughter deeming, a pinched but guilty expression taking its place. " I... I at least hope Hammer treated you half right. It's more than I ever did, -"

"Wait wait wait. Wait. Back it up a bit, - Hammer? As in, Justin Hammer? Why would he have anything to do with this?" At Steve's blank expression, the wheels in Tony's head sped up, allowing him to connect the dots. "Steve... You know I never went to prom, right?"

Steve paused. "What?"

"I never went to prom. And even if I did, Hammer would be the last reject I'd pick from the toolbox. He tried, sure, but I told him the same thing I said to Howard. 'I'm going to Steve, or I'm not going at all. ' "

"But, - But, Hanmer told everyone that he took you to prom, that, - " Steve stopped mid-sentence, face wooden as if he only now got a very simple epiphany. He facepalmed. Hard. Tony was concerned he'd get brain damage. "I'll let Natasha shoot me. It should be illegal to be this dumb."

"Not dumb. Just taking your own pace, " Tony chuckled. "So... All this time, you didn't contact me because you thought I was with Hammer? " His nose wrinkled in disgust just thinking about it, an expression Steve mirrored.

"No. I was just? Too chickenshit to face you, after everything. Honestly, I thought you hated my guts, which, who could blame you, but... I couldn't have handled that. So I stayed away." A self-deprecating snort accompanied a shake of head. "Guess all these extra inches are wasted, huh?"

Tony thinks about Steve, with his frail fists drenched in blood from split knuckles, fighting back against bullies who thought they could walk all over him or others, with his loud voice battling ignorant, hateful ideas, against big foes and bigger, and he says: "You were tall back then, too."

Steve stares and says nothing for a prolonged moment, content to look at Tony as if he's falling in love all over again. It makes Tony hopeful, fills him with something warm he didn't think he'd want to indulge again.

He's building up nerve, Tony can see that much, and right when he thinks he'd lose it, that they'd part again, Steve pulled him against his chest and pressed light kisses on top of Tony's head. It felt like pieces of love. "We're going to go on a date, " Steve murmured, voice hoarse. " and I'm going to give you the night I should've given you years ago. I'll give you the fairy tale, baby."

Tony smiles in the chest, nose taking in the scent he missed so much, listens to the heartbeat whose pattern he could still remember, still knows as well as his mind. " You get the story. Leave the happy ending to me."

The kiss they shared was shy, and timid, and felt too young, but it was just right for them.

[babybunnyboy1]

Lil bit of da back story for my character Bunny. lmao black market shenanigans

Bunny let out a whimper, the small glass cage he was held in was too tight. His tentacles had a hard time fitting in the small space. He felt cramped, his back and tentacles ached with the constant squeeze he had to push on himself. The aquarium he was pushed into was much too small, and he felt awful.

He couldn’t get out.

Bunny sighed, his glow illuminating the room for his sensitive eyes to see. He saw weird metal trinkets, weird objects. The weirdest thing was a leather-bound fragile coral thingy. At least, Bunny thinks it’s coral.

As the witch flipped the pale-colored pages he stared. What is that weird object?

The witch sighed, opening the leather materials on the table another witch wheeled the aquarium. “I don’t have enough straps. Hey, these pages are wet- Dude did you drop some coffee on this book?”

"Y-yeah... Sorry. Oh, there are more straps on the table."

"Oh good, then we have enough. Just shove that thing on the table I wanna get started."

The second witch frowned. “W-we can’t harvest the ink without making it unable to move… this particular species is very delicate and very sensitive to pain.”

The first witch groans. “Ugh... I know. Royal jellies and all that.”

“Jellies?”

“Royals aren’t born, they’re raised specifically for their purpose. To be pretty. It’s what makes them valuable. This royal is what- less than 22? A royal this size is young… Have you even paid attention to your Dad’s class?” the first witch seemed annoyed.

The second one spoke softly. “I fell asleep during illegal black market marine class…” He mutters.

“Well pay attention now. We can’t kill this fucker, otherwise, this thing is useless. Royal Squid ink is super expensive, a whole stack of emeralds a bottle.”

The male witch stared, eyes wide. “A whole stack..” he fixed his gloves.

“Just be lucky that guy didn’t know anything at the market. A live specimen is worth millions.” She pulled out a tentacle, inspecting. “Good shape… Suckers work… A very well-kept specimen at that.”

The younger witch let out a sigh, staring into the small tank. “Isn’t he uncomfortable?”

“Miguel..”

“I mean it! If he’s such a fine specimen, one that is worth millions, but you got for half a stack, shouldn’t we try to take care of him?” Miguel said, standing straight. “R-right..? Juliet?”

Juliet sighed. “I mean… yeah… But we have to make sure it’s healthy first. Gender check, health check, make sure it wasn’t a fake, and milk it.”

Miguel stared. “M-milk-“

“The ink, Miguel. Think outside of your pants for twenty minutes… Just help me get it restrained onto the table.” Bunny whined and curled up tighter.

“Outside of the water?”

No… “Yes outside of the water. I can’t inspect his skin in that small tank…” Juliet sighed and turned around.

Miguel sighs and reaches into the tank, his leather gloves protecting his hands from Bunny’s teeth roughly digging into his hands. he held him down, face down onto the bed as Juliet started strapping down his body.

“Hold him down, Miguel.”

“I am Juliet! He keeps fucking.. Wriggling…” He lifts his head, letting out a noise of protest.

Juliet felt her heart squeeze for a heartbeat before yanking the belt tighter. He went to his tentacles, Miguel followed and used his body weight. Belt after belt, Bunny was held down.

Bunny laid, wriggling face down. Manuel adjusted his head for him, his body still yanking around.

“The skin looks fine… This glow pattern is very unique. Unsymmetrical… Right hip to the left shoulder in a nice pattern…” Bunny could feel Juliet’s gloved hands on his skin. “Very nice texture... Healthy there… I am worried about these scars though…” He wanted her to stop.

“Scars?”

“Look. Looks like something bit the shoulder here and," she paused to point to a different location, "here.”

“I see now," He paused, frowning as he took a moment to think. "Do glow squids bite each other?”

Juliet shrugs, fixing his gloves and taking a few tools. “Unsure… The bites are not from its kind of species I think." she used her quill to point to his hands. "Look, your glove marks from it trying to bite.”

Bunny could hear shuffling. “Ah… they don’t match…”

”Whatever bit it had a lot more sharp teeth and a different mouth shape than this species…Needle teeth maybe.” Bunny didn’t like this theory but went still as the female witch began to inspect his body. “You think we can try to breed it?” Bunny could feel his blood go cold. “No… so small… Probably not mature enough.”

“Small? That thing is quite literally 5 feet tall if we had it stand up.” Bunny shifted to see Manuel crossed his arms.

Juliet sighed and got out a measuring tape. “Actually, it is… 5’5 or less?.. and I think it is a he..." She paused, reading the tape with a hum. "Max 5’5. even so, I’m only measuring until mid tentacles because he can’t be on his tippy tentacles. It’d be unstable.”

“How are you sure it’s a he?”

Juliet stared at her cohort, eyes squinting and nose scrunching in a sort of disgusted matter. "Not answering that...” She mumbles, hands grabbing and feeling his tentacles. Bunny wanted to escape at this moment… “But I can tell he must be a juvenile.”

“N…not…”

Both witches went quiet, staring at the creature before them in shock.

“N-no… no grow… anymore… me…” His voice was hoarse from misuse. He didn’t want to sing any longer than before. He hated to speak now. It hurt.

“That thing just… spoke… didn’t it…?” Miguel could only nod to Juliet, his eyes trained on the creature strapped to the table.

“Dry…”

Miguel slowly and gently splashed the glow squid, eyes wide. “We-we… If Simpleton finds this guy we’re so fucked…”

Juliet glares. “Dude… that guy? That guy who ratted me out to my mom about me drinking at that party?!”

There was a knock. Three knocks, slow. Before a gentle rattle.

“Manuel.” She sighs, holding her head. “I’ll get your brother. Maybe he and his ocelot got to get fish for the squid…”

Bunny went still, looking up at Miguel as his constantly drying skin gets wetted by the buckets of water.

Miguel frowns then uses a rag to cover his face. “Stop pouting at me… I’m trying to keep you alive long enough to make enough emeralds to drive Simpleton to the dirt..” He mutters.

Bunny lets out a whine, looking down and pouting. He whines again, The door creaks open. He can hear footsteps.

“Wow- that thing’s bigger than I thought it’d be.” He hears an unfamiliar voice speak. He sighs and closes his eyes. The water feels good on his back, but the edges of his tentacles were starting to hurt.

“Lower…” he whispers, his voice quiet. Manuel gently pours over his tentacles, Bunny sighs in relief. “Thank you.”

“Holy fuck…”

Juliet speaks again, annoyed. “We know. Manuel I’m done checking on him. Stick him in the well.”

“You want to throw something we got out of the ocean into a freshwater well?” Manuel stops, staring at Juliet. The rag drops into the ground.

Juliet scoffs. “I had Daddy renovate it. It’s got fish and coral and shit. It’d be like the cave they found him in!”

“That doesn’t make it ethical…”

She paused for a moment as if wondering if the man was just being stupid for a moment. "Miguel, we bought him from a stupid poacher. Just throw him in. And Miguel, throw codfish in too. That thing might be hungry.”

Miguel sighs and dumps a few buckets down a hole. Bunny struggles, moving away from Manuel as he and Juliet slowly unstrap him. Once freed, he tries to get up, wobbling and shifting before Miguel grabs him by his chest, pulling him. “N-no-no-“

“Sorry.” Manuel mumbles, Miguel shared a look with his twin brother. Both of them hated this but felt obligated to help Juliet.

Juliet sighed. “Just throw him in. And don’t let him waste his ink. We need it.”

Miguel and Manuel watch as Bunny is dropped into the well. It’s pretty deep, but not so deep that they couldn’t get their new property out without tools.

Juliet sighed as she watched the squid swim in his new habitat, taking the already killed codfish with him to eat lower in the pool of water.

[shutupandshipit]

Coming Home - Part 2

Summary: When Katsuki stepped off the plane, he was greeted with the familiar heat of Musutafu in summer. Humidity like he was sitting in a sauna. He’d been all over America in the past five and a half years, but nothing was quite like the weather of home. It could be similar, primarily along the east coast, but just not quite the same. Just similar.

Breathing in deeply, he gripped the small hand in his and started down the ramp to where he could see Best Jeanist leaning against a car with illegally blacked out windows. Katsuki idly wondered if he was absolutely roasting in his hero uniform.

“Your hand is sweaty, Papa.”

“Your’s isn’t much better, little monster.”

…..

Or where Katsuki disappeared to America to find someone to make prostheses for him. He was gone for five and a half years, and returns with a little tag-a-long.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: T (just for language mostly)

Chapter: 2/2

Part 1 <-Previous

Follow-on: Christmas Preemie

Part 2: what’s in the box?

Katsuki woke with a sudden start to cool sheets and aching ears. The events of the night trickled back slowly as he lay there, blinking into the sunlight peaking in at him around the edges of his curtains. No, not his curtains. They were a disgusting pea green color that had been left there by the owner who had rented the place to them. He'd have to remedy that as soon as possible.

In the confusion of the first good night's sleep he'd gotten in a long time, he could convince himself that everything had been a dream. He was still in America, miserable save for the time he spent with Katsumi. But with a rustle of sheets, Izuku's lightning storm and mint scent misted the air.

Katsuki buried his nose in the pillow Izuku had used, inhaling his scent for several long moments. He'd spent years without his mate's scent. Or he should say, the scent of the person he'd like to be his mate eventually. His alpha's scent. His Deku's scent. If scents could be made into perfumes, he would carry around a bottle of Izuku's scent just to pull out when he missed him. And he did miss him. Katsuki had gotten over the knee jerk reaction to deny any soft feeling towards the other hero a long time ago. It was hard to keep hold of them when he adored their daughter who was the spitting image of her father.

A crash and resounding laughter from the kitchen jerked him from his reverie. His hearing aids squealed, and he flinched before snapping his prostheses into place with a grunt. The palm of his prosthetic arm sparked feebly, but there was no sweat in the arm's tubes to light off. They'd be filled soon enough as he started to move around, collected from ports hooked into his armpit's sweat glands.

He took a moment to let the pain settle, running through his pre-operational checks before pushing to his feet.

His hearing aids squealed again, and with a grunt, he pulled them off. The world around him hushed into silence. He should have thought of taking them out before going to bed that night. He hadn't though, not with Izuku's hands on him. There was the very real chance he wouldn't be able to use them for the rest of the day, not with the way his ears were aching. The ringing built slowly until it was filling his head with static. Tinnitus, the worse part of anything he'd done to himself. Even worse than the prostheses. It would fade in and out throughout the day, leaving him in silence or giving him a splitting headache. There was never an in between.

In the kitchen, the counters were dusted with pancake or waffle mix. Fruit and vegetables sweat by the sink, begging for him to save them from a terrible butchering. Smoke rose damningly from a pan on the stove.

Standing over it, Izuku stood with Sumi on his hip and a spatula in his hand. They laughed in unison as Izuku failed to flip the pancake. 'I'm so bad at this. Your papa is a way better cook than me.' They looked so natural together. Izuku's curls against Sumi's. Izuku's smile matching the one of Sumi's face perfectly. Their freckles vibrant and an identical map across their faces. There was no mistaking what they were.

Katsuki couldn't hear them, obviously, but in five years, he had become passable at reading lips. And reading Izuku's had never been a problem.

'Me too,' Sumi confided, trying just as unsuccessfully to flip the pancake. When she finally got it over, they cheered together with hands raised high above their heads.

Katsuki leaned against his doorjamb, watching the pair interact until Izuku caught sight of him.

Red bloomed in his cheeks as he grinned. 'Kacchan! Good morning!' What Katsuki wouldn't have given to see those lips form his name on his worst days in America.

'Morning, Papa! We're making breakfast!' Sumi frowned down at the pan before turning serious eyes on him. 'Trying to. We burned the pancake.' When she looked back up at him, she frowned and pointed to her ear. She pointed the tips of her index fingers at each other, jerking them towards each other twice. 'Hurt?' the sign asked.

Nodding and stepping away from his room, Katsuki surveyed the destruction of his kitchen. He sighed. Raising his hands to sign to Sumi, 'That's because you two can't be trusted in the kitchen. The heat is way too high. How have you already managed to destroy my kitchen in only a day?'

Sumi grinned and translated for Izuku, but didn't actually answer. Izuku scrubbed at the back of his head, eyes darting over the area. 'We were hungry and didn't want to wake you up, so we thought we'd give it a shot. I'm going to clean up. Don't worry.'

Sighing and rounding the counter, Katsuki pulled on the apron he'd hung up the night before and bumped Izuku out of the way with his hip. 'Well, we have to finish breakfast first. Tell Deku he's eating that burnt monstrosity. Also, can you ask him to wash the dishes so you can set the table?'

Sumi nodded, and turned in Izuku's arms to hold his cheeks between her hands. As the three of them got to work, Katsuki fell into the ease of it all. Their scents mixing together in a harmonious chorus. Katsuki and Izuku orbiting around each other as if they'd never stopped. Sumi incorporated seamlessly into the movement as she worked with Izuku.

Katsuki was, fundamentally, happy for the first time in a long time. Even the usual self consciousness of his bare prostheses and deaf ears couldn't find its way into his body. When he was with Izuku, he was the most confident version of himself.

Breakfast went off without a hitch as Sumi did her best to teach Izuku a few basic ASL signs.

Across the table from them, Katsuki smiled and proceeded to say everything dirty he possibly could. He did them while Sumi's eyes were turned away, and was so lewd that Izuku didn't need to know sign language to know what he was saying.

Face red at a strawberry, he cried, 'Kacchan, stop!'

'Never.'

'Papa, stop teasing Daddy!' Sumi signed as she spoke, glaring at him.

He raised an eyebrow at her in challenge. “I do what I want, punk,” Katsuki said aloud, and though he couldn't hear himself, he knew they had come out correctly when Izuku's shoulders began to shake with laughter.

They were finishing breakfast when Katsuki's eye was caught by a light flashing by the couch. He'd completely forgotten that he'd left his phone out in the living room at the end of the night, and he stood to grab it. He groaned when he saw the name for the video chat request. Accepting the call, he held up a finger without looking at the screen as he returned to the kitchen to find something to stand his phone against. When he had it set up, he stepped back to greet his now ex-boss.

Negative was an imposing woman to say the least. Her eyes were inkwells, blending almost perfectly with her black skin. Her outrageously large Afro was starkly white and just barely being restrained with a Ground Zero themed bandanna she'd bought for the sole purpose of annoying him, but had ended up using often. She was tall and broad shouldered and took up space in a room with her mere presence. Every day he saw her, he thanked the stars that they were both gay. He'd met her wife, a teeny tiny beta woman who was the reason for the term 'lipstick lesbian', and still didn't understand their union.

'What?'

Negative signed as she spoke, mouth tight with consternation, 'You didn't call me, you punk ass bitch. I told you to call as soon as you landed no matter what time it was.'

Katsuki sighed, rolling his eyes. 'Stuff came up.'

'You're a dirty liar. Where's my goddaughter?' she demanded. Cynthia, her wife, appeared in the frame with the widest smile in the world. Her long rainbow dreads swayed as she waved at him and blew him a kiss.

“Hi, Cynthia.” He glanced away from the screen towards the table where Katsumi was waving wildly.

'Is that Shonetta? Aunt Shonetta, I'm over here! I'm over here!' Sumi was yelling, ready to crawl straight across the table to him, but Izuku had an arm around her waist to keep her in place.

Rolling his eyes back to the camera, Katsuki picked up the phone and switched the camera to show Izuku with his still rather sleep-mussed hair and Sumi look just like him. “Shonetta, Cynthia, Deku. Deku, Shonetta and Cynthia.”

Izuku waved at the camera. 'Actually, my name is Izuku. It's nice to meet you.'

Cynthia had crowded in next to Shonetta, staring intently at the screen with wide eyes. Katsuki scrambled to mute the call before she said anything that he was going to regret. 'Holy shit, that's baby daddy, isn't it!' They had always been good at talking while signing for his sake, but sometimes, he wished he couldn't understand them at all.

Which was, of course, a dirty lie. Shonetta and Cythia had singlehandedly kept him sane in America. He had a lot to thank them for. The biggest reason them guiding him through his pregnancy which had been more difficult than most for many reasons. It would take an act of god for him to give them up. Katsuki returned to the counter, glaring at the two women as they continued speculating together.

'Thought you had better taste than that, Kat. Isn't he kind of plain looking?' Shonetta asked.

Cynthia slapped at her wife's arm. 'Be nice! He's adorable! Sumi looks exactly like him! Take us off mute really quick.' Katsuki complied with her request as Shonetta squawked indignantly at not realizing he had muted them in the first place. With a roll of her eyes, Cynthia waves at the camera again. 'Good to know you made it back alright, Kat, Sumi. I've got to get to work, but hope to talk to you soon! Don't be strangers. Bye, Sumi! I love you both!'

Katsuki doesn't turn to catch Sumi's reply, just nodded to Cynthia. "Bye."

When Cynthia seemed to be completely gone, Shonetta turned a wicked grin toward him. 'So, is he... stuff? Have you already-' she signed. By the end, she wasn't even using actual words, just making hand gestures that were so lewd they even made Katsuki's face heat. She was the one he'd learned all of his sign language from, after all.

'No!' he signed aggressively, 'God, you are a menace to society! Leave my mate out of this!'

'Oooooh, mate already?' she crowed, flapping her hands instead of signing. She wrapped her arms around her belly as she began to chortle, and he could almost hear the exact sound of her laughter in his head.

He wanted to strangle every last breath out of her as he peaked at Izuku's red cheeks through the gaps in his fingers. Growling, he reached for the phone. “That's enough out of you. We're alive. You've seen us. Bye. Go die in a ditch.”

Shonetta only continued to laugh as he ended the call, and turned to the table. Without so much as he beat, he pointed at Sumi. 'Breakfast is over. You know the drill. Yoga and then a run. Chop chop. Go get changed. We've got a lot to do today, and not a lot of time to do it.'

Sumi nodded once before turning to Izuku to explain.

'I've got to start heading over to the agency anyway for patrol.' Izuku stood, smiling.

Without missing a beat, Sumi jumped from her chair to wrap her arms around his body and pressed her face into his stomach.

Izuku was taken aback, arms raised to shoulder level as his eyes flicked between Katsuki and Sumi. After a still moment, he let his arms drop around her. He lowered his head, his mouth obscured from Katsuki's views. Sumi grinned up at him before bounding off toward her room.

Izuku turned to look at Katsuki, scrubbing at the back of his head. 'Can I... see you guys again? Tonight maybe?'

“Whatever.” Katsuki pulled Izuku into his body. They tangled together, hips pressed flush, tongues twined, hands on waists and hands in hair. When they parted again, he said, “Gotta make up for five years.” He stared into Izuku's green eyes, brushing a thumb across his cheek. He dropped his eyes to Izuku's lips when he felt them brush against his, pulling back enough just to see what he said.

'Of what?'

“Everything.”

…..

Weeks passed, and things changed. Sumi started going to school. It was weird for her starting Kindergarten in the middle of the school year, but she adjusted well enough.

Katsuki started going back to work. He had more than enough to keep him busy. Relearning the streets and districts of his home city. Figuring out who was still in the city, who was new, and who he would work best with. Reestablishing himself in Japan, and painfully crawling his way up the ranks. Adjusting back to his old hero uniform with the minor adjustments he had made. When he'd gone to America, he hadn't been expecting to stay there for five and a half years, so he hadn't thought to bring his uniform. It wasn't particularly suitable for America anyway, so a uniform had to be made for him while he was there. But just like his original uniform wasn't suitable for America, his overseas uniform wasn't suitable for home.

Izuku became a constant fixture in his and Sumi's life. Every afternoon they came home, it was to Izuku standing on their doorstep. Every night when he fell asleep, it was with Izuku in his arms to soothe the nightmares. Every morning when they left, it was with Izuku beside them. He was around so often and frequently that Katsuki eventually gave him a key, a drawer in his wardrobe and a chunk of space in his closet.

After starting late night patrols again, Izuku was the only one he trusted to watch Sumi. Eventually, he started to let him take over more and more parental responsibilities until they were sharing them as equals instead of Katsuki remaining in his steadfast single parent routine.

He trusted Izuku implicitly, but even that trust was under scrutiny when it came to Sumi.

So, when Katsuki returned home one night with his heat building beneath his skin to Izuku curled on the couch alone, knees pulled to his chest while he watched hero videos, the slightest sliver of betrayal lodge in his chest. “Where's Katsumi? You were supposed to pick her up,” he growled dangerously as he stood behind Izuku, all protective omega father in his voice and stance.

Izuku tilted his head back to look at Katsuki, expression smooth and his scent doing a passable job of being calming. “With your parents and my mother.”

“Why?” Ever so slowly, he began to deflate. He wasn't exactly happy that his daughter was with her grandparents without his knowledge, but happier than if Izuku had forgotten to get her from school.

Blinking slowly, Izuku lifted his head and turned to patiently gaze at him. “We talked about this, remember? When the time came for your heat, Katsumi would stay with your parents and my mom. I know you'll start tomorrow, I could smell it on you every time I passed you on the streets today, but I thought it'd be nice to have a night for ourselves. I wanted to have a date night. Watch a movie, eat some take out, cuddle on the couch. Date nights don't normally include being accompanied by five-year-old daughters.” His expression remained pleasant, but longing crept into his voice. “We haven't spent any time alone together as a couple since you got back. I thought it'd be nice.”

Katsuki stared at him, silent for a long moment while he let his words settle in. Breathing out the spike of betrayal and anger that had stabbed him, he nodded. “Yeah. Okay. I'm going to bathe first. Did you order something already?”

Beaming, Izuku stood on his knees and beckoned Katsuki in for a chaste kiss. “I picked up food from that weird restaurant you like. That one place that has your favorite extra spicy California Roll.”

“Did you get me an extra spicy California Roll?” Katsuki asked, hands resting lightly on Izuku's hips.

Izuku scoffed. “Of course, I did. Do I look stupid to you?” When Katsuki started to open his mouth for a snarky reply, he slapped a hand over his lips. “Don't answer that. Jerk. Just go take your shower.”

Growling low and suggestively in his throat, Katsuki nipped at the soft pads of his fingers, sucking a digit into his mouth for the briefest of moments. When he pulled away, Izuku's face was flaming and he was smirking in satisfaction. “Keep it in your pants for now, Deku. You've got me for three whole days.”

Izuku whined pitifully before slumping back onto the couch in a boneless heap. He pressed his hands over his burning face. “You can't just do stuff like that, Kacchan. I'm not used to it anymore. Especially since we haven't done anything yet.”

Katsuki leaned over the couch, tugging a few fingers away from Izuku's face to look him in the eye. “Yeah, because we were waiting for my first heat together again. Well, it's here now. Prepare yourself because I've got five years of pent up sexual frustration to get out over the next three days.” He grinned viciously.

Again, Izuku whined. “Oh my god, I'm gonna have to go jerk-off or something so I don't cum the moment you touch me.”

Katsuki's smile only grew more vicious. “Do it or don't. You're going to have to figure out a way to satisfy me anyway.”

Izuku squeezed his eyes shut. “Thank god for ruts,” he whispered because when Katsuki's heat hit, Izuku would be catapulted into a rut.

Forty-five minutes later found take-out containers empty and Izuku leaned back against Katsuki's chest while they watched video after video of highlights from All Might's career. They hadn't been able to find a decent movie that they both wanted to watch, and settled for something they were always okay with. Fifteen minutes later though, Izuku turned in Katsuki's arms to face him.

Katsuki raised an eyebrow at him, but remained silent in the face of Izuku's determination.

He pressed close, nipping at Katsuki's lips, coaxing him into a slow make-out session as he crawled his way into Katsuki's laps. Knees on either side of the other hero's hips, he ground languidly down into him.

Hissing, Katsuki ripped their mouths apart as he bucked up into Izuku. “Jesus fuck, Deku, are you trying to make me come in my pants?” He could feel Izuku's smirk against his pulse point rather than see it, and shivered.

“No. But I want you to know I'm going to ride you before anything else. I haven't been filled with anything other than toys in five years. It's all I've been able to think about when we're alone since you got back,” Izuku whispered, breath husky as it ghosted across the exposed skin of Katsuki's ear around his hearing aid, “No one wants to top an alpha. Either way, no one could ever live up to you. You're the best, you always have been. I want you to fill me up. I want you to pin me down and dominate me like only you know how, Kacchan.”

Katsuki groaned deep in his throat, biting shallowly into Izuku's collar bone, fingers bruising against his hips. “And no one wants to be topped by an omega. God,” he breathed, “I've missed you. You're the only alpha I'd waste my time on. No one else could ever compare.” Once upon a time, the admission would have made him embarrassed and then angry at his own embarrassment, but now, it was simply the truth.

“I've never been able to look at anyone else,” Izuku whispered, ducking his head to catch Katsuki's lips again, “You're my only. You're my forever even if I'm not yours.”

Katsuki didn't get the chance to reply as Izuku sealed their mouths together again. They were teeth and tongues and sharp canines and blood mixed with saliva. They were rolling hips and heat and moans and needy pleasure.

“Deku-” Katsuki gasped, but Izuku swallowed down his own name.

“Bedroom, Kacchan, please. I need you,” Izuku gasped between kisses and panted breaths. He moaned into Katsuki's mouth when Katsuki gripped his ass and effortlessly lifted them from the couch. Arms twined around shoulders, legs wrapped around that ever so slender waist.

They tumbled into bed with foreheads pressed together and gasped laughter.

It was hours later, after Katsuki had taken Izuku, allowed Izuku to manhandle his protheses off and his heat had fully set in that Izuku said anything. “I want to exchange mating bites.”

Katsuki was panting, face pressed into the sheets as his body wound back up for another cresting wave of his heat. His mind was hazed with lust, muzzy and indistinct, but he understood that clearly enough. “Still?” He was just curious, but he couldn't tell what his voice sounded like. Sarcastic? Accusatory? Interested?

“I never stopped wanting to,” Izuku whispered while he gently guided Katsuki onto his back and then to sit up so he could press a water bottle to his mouth. “I've only ever wanted to be with you, Kacchan. Ever since we were little. Even when we weren't anything more than rivals.”

Katsuki accepted the water gratefully while Izuku proceeded to wipe his body down with a warm, damp cloth. “I thought you would have stopped after I disappeared without even a text. For keeping Katsumi from you. All of it.”

Leaving the cloth in the bathroom sink, Izuku climbed back onto the bed behind him. He pulled Katsuki flush against his chest, hooking his chin over his shoulder. “No, I'm a stubborn as you are.”

Katsuki pressed back into Izuku, tilting his head so their temples were pressed together. “I don't think I'm ready,” he whispered, eyes closed as he tried to think through his jumbled thoughts.

“There's no rush. You don't ever have to accept. I'll wait for a long as you need even if that means waiting forever. I'm very patient.”

“It won't be forever, idiot. Just... not yet.” Turning his head more completely towards Izuku, he growled, “Now, less talking, more kissing.”

“Needy,” Izuku said with a giggle, but gave him what he wanted all the same.

…..

Katsuki was just walking into the office after his shift -nine in the morning, no coffee since midnight, no Katsumi since the morning before- and he was frustrated. The night hadn't been a good one, and with blood still drying in crusty patches all over his uniform, he was as unhappy as they could come. He just wanted to see his daughter for the first time in what felt like days and cuddle with her and his alpha on the couch.

“Kat! Thank god!” Kirishima shouted, running towards him. He wrapped strong fingers around his bicep, dragging him towards his office. “Come with me. Have you heard?”

“Good fucking morning to you too,” Katsuki snarled, but out of pure mental exhaustion, allowed himself to be dragged into his best friend's office. The door slammed shut behind them, and Katsuki went to raid Kirishima's coffee counter when he was released. “What the fuck's up with you anyway? It's too early in your shift to be acting like a jackass.”

Standing by his door, Kirishima rung his hands, staring out the clouded glass window instead of looking at Katsuki.

When he remained silent, Katsuki snarled and stepped into his space. “What the fuck is going on, Eiji?”

Kirishima jolted, head dropping in submission.

Katsuki stomach curdled with a sudden rush of nausea. It had been a long time since he'd seen Kirishima bare the back of his neck to him, and the last time he had, Izuku had been in a coma with no chance of recovering anytime in his immediate future. He gripped Kirishima's shoulder tightly, positive that his anxiety was being transferred through every pore. “What the fuck is going on?”

Whining, Kirishima covered his hand with his own, “I'm not supposed to tell you. The boss told me to just keep you out of the way so they can handle it.”

“If you don't fucking tell me, I'm just going to go out there and find out what the fuck is going on myself!”

“The- Uh- Your-” Kirishima groaned, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Some villains have taken a kindergarten school hostage. The call just came through a few minutes ago. The boss and some of the others have already gone-”

Shoving Kirishima aside, Katsuki tore through the door, heart beating a million miles an hour. 'Not again! Not again! Not again!' He burst into the sky towards Katsumi's school, sun bright and hot overhead. He could see the specks of other heroes moving in the same direction, then he saw a flash of green lightning disappear between the buildings.

He wanted to call out. He wanted Katsumi to be safe. He wanted Izuku to be safe. He wanted them both in his arms, and for none of this to be happening. He stumbled to a stop down the street from the school, just like he had the first time. When he saw the flames, his vision went black.

…..

When he came to, it was to the feeling of his breath wheezing in and out, warm familiar weight pressed against his chest, and Izuku staring straight at the ceiling with a far away expression. His fingers worked over something in his palm. His eyes were red, cheeks tear stained. His uniform was bloody and torn, but for once, he was whole. It felt like the first time Katsuki had ever seen him completely unbroken after a battle. Only thing was, he couldn't actually remember what had happened in this battle.

Agonizingly slow, he turned his head to look down at his chest. Katsumi laid there curled in the smallest ball possible, her own face tear stained and her legs removed. Her mane of green hair was tangled and dusted with dirt and ash.

He went to lift his arm, the one she wasn't sleeping on, but found only his stump. Frowning, he turned to glare at it. His mind was what he suspected was drug slow, and he couldn't really understand why his prostheses and hearing aids had been removed. He hadn't gotten that hurt, there was no way.

Lifting his eyes, Izuku was staring at him with a mouth all misshapen like a soft noodle and tears pouring down his face.

'Don't cry, idiot,' he wanted to say, but his hand was held captive and he wasn't sure if his voice was audible. He only knew that when he tried to speak, pain bloomed in his throat. Closing his eyes, his throat vibrated with a groan.

Fingers balled up the front of his gown, pulling the neckline taught against the back of his neck. A hard line pressed into his chest, and Izuku's fists shook against him.

'Don't. Cry. Izuku,' Katsuki tried again, and again, there was pain. He'd been expecting it this time so he was able to crack his eyes open despite the pain.

Izuku was sobbing against his body, forehead pressed to his chest. Head so close to Sumi's that their hair mingled, dirty and green and beautifully curly.

In his chest, Katsuki's heart silently swelled and burst when Sumi extracted a hand from beneath her body to pat Izuku's curls. Closing his eyes, a hot tear tracked down Katsuki's cheek with the sheer relief of having them both with him. He couldn't remember the battle, but for the second time, his daughter's school had been attacked. For the second time, he'd been close to losing her. This scene before him could have ended up as a very different one.

Katsuki could feel Izuku's lips moving against his chest, breath rapid fire with words he couldn't hear. He only opened his eyes again when he felt small fingers press to his ear.

Sumi wasn't looking at him, but instead at Izuku, tugging against his hair to get him to lift his head. When he finally complied, eyes blurry with fat tears, she tapped on Katsuki's ears before pointing to her own.

Izuku's eyes darted up to Katsuki's face. After a moment of staring, he scrubbed quickly at his eyes before stepping away towards a table that had four prosthetic limbs and three bags on it. Sitting back down, calmer than before even though his lips were still that same soft noodle shape, he handed Sumi one hearing aid.

Together, they hooked Katsuki back up. Very carefully, Sumi turned them on, staring at his face intently as she turned the volume up.

The beeping of his heart monitor faded into existence followed by Sumi's and Izuku's breathing. “Good,” he said, and his voice was barely a croak passed the pain. Wincing, he lifted his unpinned hand to his throat.

Izuku and Sumi reached for his hand at the same time, stopping him from touching his throat. “The doctor said not to touch,” Sumi told him.

Katsuki raised an eyebrow over at Izuku.

Tears crowded Izuku's eyes immediately again, and tracked down his face. His voice trembled as he whispered, “You were really hurt, Kacchan. The villain got you by the throat. You were fighting her alone while everyone else was either fighting the rest of her gang or rushing to evacuate the kids and staff. I couldn't get to you fast enough. I thought you were going to die. I felt so useless seeing you like that.”

“Now you know how it feels, dumbass.” Gritting his teeth, he breathed through the pain.

“Don't call Daddy that! It's mean!” Katsumi glared at him, lip puckered in a pout and her own big red eyes beginning to fill with tears. Her lip trembled, and then she was sniffling as her tears fell. “I-I was so scared, Papa. I thought you were gonna leave me and Daddy alone. I don't want you to die, Papa.”

Katsuki pulled her in against his chest, pressing as kiss to her forehead and holding her tight. When he looked to Izuku, he held out his stump, motioning him forward.

Izuku crowded in against his side, and the two loves of his life cried against him for long enough that their tears soaked his gown and the hard edge digging into his shoulder from Deku's palm pissed him off. “Deku, what the fuck is in your hand?” he growled through gritted teeth, “It fucking hurts.”

“Papa, you have foul language,” Katsumi whispered, but didn't pull away from him.

Izuku jumped away from him, his tears abruptly stopping as roses bloomed in his cheeks. He stammered and stammered and stammered a whole lot of nonsense until Katsumi's giggles interrupted him. “Sumi!” he cried.

“Just show him, Daddy! You don't have to be nervous!”

“Oh, yes I do!” Izuku argued back, “He could say no!”

Katsumi waved away his concern. “He's not gonna say no.”

“He might! I think I might know him just a little more after knowing him longer than you have!”

“Not in the last five years! I know him the best. He's gonna say yes.”

“How about you let 'him' decide for himself since he's sitting right here,” Katsuki interjected before the banter could continue any further, “Just spill it, Deku. My head's all fuzzy and my throat hurts, and I'm annoyed that my daughter knows more about whatever this is than I do.” Oh. Oh, he was going to regret all that talking later. He already was.

Izuku's eyes flickered between Sumi and Katsuki until he finally swallowed thickly. “Don't try to kill me. The doctors only stitched up the hole in your side a few hours ago.” He closed his eyes tightly.

Katsuki blinked rapidly at his alpha, those words sticking on repeat in his head. There had been a hole in his side? Just how much had the villains fucked him up? Well, clearly enough to land him in the hospital with some very good drugs running through his veins. Drugs that were clearly impairing his thought process.

'Not the point right now, dumbass,' Katsuki silently reprimanded himself.

'Alpha offer. Alpha wants. Give to alpha. Care for alpha,' his omega chanted, nearly prancing from one side to the other, 'Alpha offer family. Alpha offer commitment. Take. Agree.'

Izuku hadn't even opened his hand yet, so Katsuki turned a snarl inward, 'Shut the fuck up, and stop jumping to conclusions.'

'Omega conclusions. Our conclusions. Want. Take. Mate. Alpha. Family.'

Mentally rolling his eyes, Katsuki tried to ignore his omega's constant stream of consciousness in exchange for watching Izuku closely. Slowly, his fingers uncurled, and Katsuki's brain completely shut off. The monitor over his shoulder picked up its pace. His omega began to leap for joy in his chest, each jump punctuated by a beat of his heart.

When Katsuki just continued to stare, Izuku cautiously opened his eyes and with his mouth set in an uncertain line, opened the box. In a cushion of black velvet, a gold ring with two diamonds and a single emerald sat unobtrusively. “I've had it for awhile, but I was trying to get up the courage to actually ask you. I've never really thought about it, but after you came back, I couldn't stop thinking about it. And after the attack, I realized that I don't have the luxury of being afraid.” Inhaling deeply, Izuku finally met Katsuki's eyes. “I want to spend my entire life with you and Katsumi. I want to be your husband, your mate, a father to our daughter and everything in between. If you weren't in a hospital bed right now, I'd get down on one knee, but since you are, I'll just ask. Katsuki Bakugou, will you marry me?”

Completely speechless, Katsuki just continued to stare down at the ring in Izuku's hands. He realized Izuku's hands were shaking about the same time he realized that his eyes were filling with tears.

“K-Kacchan?”

“Papa! Answer Daddy!” Sumi cried, bouncing excitedly beside him on the bed, grinning from ear to ear. “Come on! Come on! Come on!”

Instead of answering aloud, Katsuki just stuck out his hand.

A sigh exploded from Izuku's chest. “Thank god,” he whispered, setting the box off to the side as he took Katsuki's hand in his mangled ones to slip the ring on his finger.

Katsuki dragged him forward, pressing their mouths together while Sumi cheered loud enough that a nurse peaked into the room. “One condition. You stop running headlong into situations that will get you killed,” he said.

“Okay, but only as long as you don't end up in situations that land you in a hospital bed. My heart can't handle it,” Izuku whispered against his lips, eyes still closed even though Katsuki's eyes were open again, “I can't go through this again. I don't want Katsumi to go through it again. You two have been through enough.”

“All three of us, but now you know how I felt every time I saw you in a hospital bed.” Izuku didn't need to open his eyes for Katsuki to see him roll them.

Sumi wiggled her way between them. “Does that mean Daddy is going to come live with us from now on?”

“I wasn't aware that he wasn't already,” Katsuki said snarkily.

“Yay!” Sumi swung around on the bed to face the nurse and Best Jeanist who was now beside her. “My Daddy and Papa are going to get married! And when Papa gets pregnant again, I'm going to have a little brother and maybe even a little sister! And Uncle Eiji is going to be Best Man, and oh! Uncle Tsu! You can be ring bearer! Wait, no! I'm going to be ring bearer, but you can walk with me!”

A thin blonde eyebrow rose, but Best Jeanist didn't say anything as Izuku and Katsuki began to splutter.

“Woah!” Katsuki croaked, pain thrumming through his neck, but he couldn't stop, “Who said I was gonna give you a brother, little monster? You're already enough. Just be happy with your cousins.”

As their banter continued between the three of them around and around, Katsuki couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed with Best Jeanist and the nurse's eyes on them. This was his family. This was his mate and his daughter. When their wedding day came, he was going to scream that truth from the rooftops.

He'd never been happier in his life.