#but I will be free soon since the chapter's rolling and patreon's ready to go up

[bleaksqueak]

New Star Tier reward pack is up and live over at the Solivaga Patreon! Part 1 of an Autumn png asset pack that I made for myself for Chapter 3. These are all painted by me, by hand, and if you want to snag them to help with your background work, you can pick them up at the link below! Autumn Illustration Assets

[fullcry]

Update (sort of)

I WILL get around to posting a proper update schedule soon. I'm in the process of trying to get my Patreon page up and running, so hopefully I'll be able to get those two things going concurrently.

Tentatively, updates will probably be in this order: Truth of Memory, Ch 4 (final chapter) > Either "Jacket Fic" longshot or untitled NSFW multichap Ch 1/4 > Love and Peace and Gunsmoke, Ch 2

A note about my Love and Peace and Gunsmoke: part of why an update may be a ways off is... I lost chapter five. 5k words of the hardest stuff to write: difficult conversations, character development, action scenes, multiple locations... I still haven't recovered. The prospect of rewriting it all is DAUNTING. And I need to finish it before I can go back and edit chapters 2-4, since it's the end of the first arc and needs to align properly for the next. So... thank you for your patience while I'm on the struggle bus.

Speaking of the untitled NSFW multichap, please have a WIP sneak peek because I'm hopeless and need to vent excitement. Be sure to subscribe to my AO3 pseud for updates! (because there will be a lot this year, RIP my free time)

UNTITLED NSFW VASH/MERYL WIP EXCERPT (below the cut!)

She had spent the long hours in that room thinking and preparing herself for the eventuality—told herself it was just sex, just a bodily function (albeit an intimate one). She’d spent long enough keeping her feelings for him hidden, and this was just an extension of that. It didn’t need to mean anything more and didn’t need to change their relationship. And at the end… she’d still felt that way. She’d been ready to move on, keep laughing, keep smiling, put the incident in a box and continue being just friends.

She hadn’t been prepared for this, though—this cold shoulder, this painful distance—and she feels unconscionably foolish for not having considered his feelings, for not having considered that just because it needed to happen didn’t mean he was prepared.

Though she isn’t quite sure what specifically his feelings on the matter are since he hasn’t said a word about what happened and pointedly ignored her attempts to do so.

She sighs and trails dutifully behind him. They’ve long since left the dormitories behind, for which she is thankful, and he leads her through a series of dark maintenance tunnels. Like the main hallways these too are lit by emergency lights but given the narrowness of the tunnels and the array of pipes and wires and panels along the wall hiding the light strip from view, it’s significantly dimmer. They move single file and her hands trail along walls on either side for support—the grate upon which they walk is uneven in places, seeming to have bent with the force of the crash.

She can see the brighter light of a hallway ahead and sighs in relief, matching Vash’s quickening pace. But before they get out, her hand snags on something sharp and she jerks it back, hissing. She can feel blood seeping into her glove, trailing down her wrist. Pain pulses sharply along her index finger, and she knows its a deep cut.

“Are you alright?”

Now he talks to her. She refrains from saying something snappy and unkind, and instead says, “Yeah—just a cut. Can you grab some gauze from my pack?”

She turns around to give him access to the bag strapped to her back and holds her finger tightly to stem some of the blood flow. She hears the zipper and can feel him rummaging around, and a moment later he taps her shoulder. She turns back around and pulls her hand away from her finger to take the roll of gauze but he ignores her, reaching for her hand instead. She lets him, holding her breath and watching with surprise as gently disinfects the wound and holds her by the palm as he wraps three layers around the cut, tying it off gently. He still doesn’t look at her.

“Vash—“ she begins, more insistent this time.

“Not… not here,” he says, and she can hear in his voice that just saying those words is an emotional effort. It’s clear he knows what she wants to bring up, and she feels some relief that he has finally acknowledged what happened, even if indirectly.

“When we get back to ship three?” she asks, or rather, requests. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, gently releasing her hand as he tucks the roll of gauze into a jacket pocket. Then, he nods, and turns back around, heading for the hallway.

[adventures-of-the-creeping-bam]

NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: THE ADVENTURES OF THE CREEPING BAM,  BOOK TWO: ONE COLD TRAIL - CHAPTER 28

If you’re new to the story, please go check out Book 1 first …

Book 2 Chapter 1 is here …

IMPORTANT:  Please note this story includes content that may be considered mature, such as moderate battle violence, some strong language and occasional mild sexual scenes.

If you want to support my writing, feel free to swing by my Patreon or Ko-fi.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT:  ART

Fuck, this shit’s going south fast.  I don’t even bother to stand as I just throw myself forward, diving headfirst through the gap between the closest balustrades.  I twist in the air as I start to drop, and I roll forward as my feet hit the ground, taking the jolt out of the landing before the momentum can snap my ankles.  I’m already drawing my new sword as I start to come up on the other side of it, and I start dashing forward immediately, slipping the corresponding long knife out as I close the distance on one of the newest arrivals.

Through the corner of my eyes and the edges of my awareness I take in what’s going on around me – Kesla’s still battling away with that creepy pale bitch, the one I imagine to be Vandryss, the one we been seeking.  She’s good, clearly, Kesla’s keeping up with her but I can see she’s using every trick she can think of to keep from getting overwhelmed. Seeing that’s almost enough to make me break off my intended attack and rush to her aid, but I know if I do there’s a danger we could be overwhelmed by this sudden influx of new enemies.

Gael’s jumped into the fray, I see, setting about with her staff, and I just catch sight of her whipping the feet out from under one of ‘em as I go in for my own attack. Motion on the other side causes me inward alarm, but I realise it’s Dumoli joining the fight, swinging his massive hammer while charging in with a great bellow.  Thel’s close on his heels, her battleaxe clutched low but ready as she runs, and there’s a look of pure murder in her eyes.

My intended target registers what’s coming in the final moments and they turn to intercept me, their shortsword already out as they’re trying to palm a handaxe free from their belt.  They give up as I close in and take a stab at me instead, but I duck aside and swing my knife at the same moment to turn their sword aside, and they’re still trying to recover, eyes going wide, when I ram three quarters of Shay’s former longsword through their chest.  I extend as far as I can on the lunge and they buckle with it, so when I whip it back quick to withdraw the blade again they’re already falling.

Ain’t the first time I used my new sword in anger, it already served me well yesterday in the Round, but I’m only now starting to really appreciate this weapon’s superior killing power compared to my old one, before it was broken. It’s got four inches more reach than that blade, and while it’s also heavier it’s not much more of a handful, I’ve taken great care to adjust to it in the weeks since Shay gave it to me to replace my old one.  It’s still a light, slender blade, ideal for swift cut-and-thrust such as I been trained for, and it hasn’t taken me long to perfect its use.  In a way it’s actually better than my old sword …

As they crumple I round on my next opponent, who I realise has already sensed the threat and they’re pre-emptively coming at me.  I jump aside so the downward swing of their handaxe misses me by bare inches, and as I spin past them I sweep my sword across, aiming for their neck. They dodge in time and my blade whips harmlessly over their head, but their movement is desperate enough they don’t have a chance to attack me before I finish my recovery.  Instead they jump back two big steps and hunker low, their shortsword held out in front of them to dissuade me from making another attack too soon.  A cannier fighter than the last then.

Taking a breath, I look ‘em over, keeping my blades held out at my sides as I weigh the options.  I get the feeling they’re doing the same, dark eyes studying me the best they can in the dim light.  They’re about of a size with me, lean and wiry, and I suspect they’re good and flexible too, but they’re human … might be enough, that.  I cock my head as I look out from under my hood, and while they follow the motion they don’t quite meet my eyes.  They can’t see me any better than Kesla’d be able to without her fancy goggles …

So I feint right, and they react to the movement, so I know I got ‘em as I twist at the last while I whip my sword up, and splash the water that’s been accumulating on my previously flat, still blade into their eyes.  They hiss as they stumble back, and while they’re not exactly blinded I don’t need more than a split-second’s distraction right now. I sweep in on their blindside as they shake their head, and by the time they’ve blinked their eyes clear enough they’re too late realising I already got ‘em because I’m ramming a full foot of steel up under their arm.  They stiffen instantly, drawn up to their full height for a moment even as their legs give out and they start to topple sideways, and I’m already whipping the blade away after a little twist to open the wound a little more.  Dancing away on fleet feet.

Another portal seems to open from outta nowhere over the other end of the courtyard, and this time it’s to a dozen of them all drop out at once, all already drawn when their feet touch down.  Shit!  What was that Gael said about it probably not being a warlock this time?  Then a great hulking shape lumbers past me, already dropping to all fours as they start to charge at the group while they’re still orienting themselves, and people throw themselves out the way best they can to avoid getting trampled as Big Man goes for the newcomers.  The ones lucky enough to spot him coming scatter the best they can, shouting a warning to the rest, but those who aren’t quick enough just start screaming, only to stop quick enough again once he starts laying into ‘em … fuck, this is turning into chaos already.

Then I catch another momentary flash upstairs, somewhere in the right hand corner back towards the front entrance, and I realise another portal’s opened up there too.  More coming.  Damn it, whoever that wizard is, she’s more on the ball than we expected.  Is she here?  Or is she just directing all this remotely?  I cast about while I still have an opportunity, but between the rain, the foliage and the sheer chaos going on around me I can’t tell much of anything.

Another hood seems to get themselves together enough to see me close by and I’m barely quick enough to react as they charge me, so their longsword misses me by an inch as I skip aside.  They’re a good deal bigger than me, a lot more solid, and I see amber eyes starting to darken to red under their hood so I realise this one’s another half-orc. Okay, he’s definitely got me way outmatched in strength, so I better be faster instead.

He recovers quickly from the near miss and I’m still righting myself as he turns again.  He tightens, low, sword gripped in both hands and cocked up towards me as he squares his shoulders, taking a breath.  I edge back a step and extend my sword arm, pointing to his face in a cautious, ready ward, and set my jaw as I breathe in through my nose.  He blinks, quick, and I lunge as I see his eyelids shift.  He moves as I do, turning my sword aside as I charge.

If I’d intended to hit him with that thrust he might’ve fouled me, but instead I flick my sword as he turns it and instead I catch him across the back of his right hand as I’m dancing past him.  He snarls a curse and pulls away as if he can escape the pain, but that simply opens him up for a split, which is all I need to pull in close on his side.  I take a risk and my boldness barely rewards me so I can ram the length of my long knife through the side of his hood.

It's not a perfect target, if I wanted to puncture his throat like I prefer I’d run a good chance of missing since I can’t make it out through the wet black wool of his hood, so instead I aim for what would be the centre of that mass, hoping I don’t foul the blade on their thick jawbone.  Instead I meet the barest resistance past the hood, something that pops and gives way easy enough, so I just jammed the knife through his ear.  He lets out a winded rattling sound as I keep pushing and there’s a moment of greater resistance before I manage to shove it the rest of the way through to the hilt, which I suspect is the skull on the other side yielding to my strength … I can’t help shuddering as he just starts to sag, that weird, discomfiting death rattle wheezing out as I yank the blade free again and the body just drops, and I realise that’s a sound’s gonna be with me for a while.

For that long moment I’m so focused that I almost miss another one rushing me on my left, I’m starting to react when they suddenly go flying at a completely oblique angle as a flash of something bright blue strikes ‘em in the side. They tumble through the air like a ragdoll and I almost go down as I wheel round, half of me wondering what the hell just happened while the rest realises I almost got killed.  Then Gael comes running up as the crystal in the tip of their staff blinks out dull again, and I make the connection.  Their look is a mixture of stricken panic and dawning relief.

“Art, you idiot!  Get it together!”

“It’s a bit fucking crazy out here right now, ain’t you noticed? That’s kind of a tall order!”  I don’t mean to snap so hard, but I doubt they even notice.  “And thank you.  Of course.”

“What the hell are we doing?”  They’re gripping their staff tight in both hands, holding it close to their breast as they cast about, looking at the shambled excuse for a skirmish that’s unfolding around us.  “Do we even have a plan now?”

“Gods, I don’t fucking know …”  I see Kesla still locked in mortal combat with Vandryss, the two of them currently prowling in a circle around each other, swords held low and very ready, seeking out an advantage or rethinking their tactics, I really have no idea.  In truth I’m amazed they’ve fought this long without one of them gaining the upper hand, they’re clearly so well matched.

Tulen’s fighting with a sword, which takes me a little by surprise.  As I watch her she cuts one of the shadows converging on her down with an impressive sidestroke that has them stumbling back as they fight to keep their guts from spilling out.  Then she rounds on another as they try to press an advantage while they think her distracted, parrying the stroke of their lunging shortsword before ducking under the reactive hack of their offhand axe and cutting them upwards from the side.  I find myself straightening up as I watch her move, it’s incredible to watch.  “Bloody hell …”

“What … oh, yes, well Tulen always was a lot better at that stuff than I was in the Academy.”

Blinking at her words, I tear my attention off her and look the other way, spotting Thel and Dumoli fighting back to back as another half dozen hoods attempt to swarm them.  He’s smashing them down as soon as they get close, though, the way he swings that hammer almost makes it seem like he’s just holding on and letting momentum do its work but somehow he’s managing to keep his feet planted while he does it.  Thel, meanwhile, cuts two down at once with three impossibly deft moves that actually make my jaw drop, then locks up with a third before simply pushing them back and swinging her battleaxe overhead as they stumble back.  The blade catches ‘em right between the eyes while they fight to right themselves.

“Okay, so … what do you wanna do, then?”  I venture after a moment.

“Well I … I don’t … um …”  They cast about again, still seeming rattled.  I can’t blame ‘em, there’s too much going on at once in here.

Another two come charging towards us and I push Gael aside before they’re impaled on the outstretched longsword, which I batter down hard with my long knife before jamming the sword through the front of the attacker’s throat before they can check their momentum.  They stumble immediately and I try to pull the sword free but it’s stuck a little too tight and their feet suddenly start to skid out from under them on the soaked turf, and as they go down it wrenches my wrist hard.  I choke back a yell as I’m forced to let go of the sword before it breaks my arm, and then the one behind ‘em closes the gap too fast and I realise I’m gonna get run through before I can recover enough to counter …

Then something slams into their back a little before they reach me and they twist awkwardly, fumbling their shortsword but at least retaining their axe as they stumble, and I don’t try anything fancy, I just roll aside.  As I come up I twist, swapping my knife to my stronger hand as I turn to fight, only to see my would-be attacker skid down to one knee as they try to reach for the arrow sunk deep in the middle of their back with their empty right hand.  Realising I got a moment spare to breathe I turn to the balcony again in time to see someone jump down from it, recognising Shay as she tosses Kesla’s bow aside in mid-air, already going for her sword as she lands and drops into a roll.

She ain’t alone either, more figures are jumping down behind her, black-clad all – five, no six … no, seven, although the last one crumbles before they can quite make the leap and instead they just fall over the railing, dropping limp over the side with two arrows through them.  Shay saved my life before making her escape, but now she’s about to be surrounded again.  Shit …

Wanting to end this fast, I step up to the fumbling hood as they try in vain to pull the arrow from their back, and before they quite realise what I’m doing I yank back their hood and cut their throat.  As they look up at me while their hands go to try and stem the dark gush of red from the great gash, I realise they’re just a boy, human, downy blond attempt at a beard only visible because of the wet.  Bright blue eyes that can’t quite focus in the gloom somehow still manage to find mine for a moment as they start to collapse, and I gotta look away when I realise the poor bastard’s even younger than I am.

“I won’t thank you for that one, you daft oaf.”  Gael growls with clear annoyance, and I can see they’re somewhat muddied now, hefting their staff with white knuckles as they join me again. “That hurt.”

“Not half so much as a sword through the guts would’ve.”  I growl right back, not in the mood for placation right now. I see more movement behind them now … no, not movement, it’s a flicker of something, but something less seen than not seen, and I recognise one of those weird portal spells opening and closing now.  As two more new arrivals come into focus through the driving rain.

One’s a tall, slender figure in a long robe and deep hood, with an even taller, slightly twisted staff in one hand.  A woman, and my mind immediately says mage, which means this is the hedge wizard, or Order stray, or warlock, whatever.  The one we’ve been hearing about.  Whoever she is, she sways for a moment, taking up a two-handed grip on her staff to steady herself as she wobbles after the landing, and the reason behind it makes sense to me immediately.  She was clearly carrying quite a load with her on that jump.

Granzun is as intimidating a sight as I remember, maybe a little more scarred up but this just seems to add to his potency now.  He’s as big and scary as I remember, certainly, almost as broad across the shoulders as he is tall, although it’s more down to the way he holds himself.  He’s traded out his Guild suit, but the suit he wears now is no less impressive, a little more stylish but the same kind of well-fitted thick black leather plate, with his short cloak and hood sewn right into the shoulder-pieces.  The little plaited beard’s new too, but I’m not too surprised seeing it, he always did have an inflated opinion of his own style.

His sword may be lost now, but he’s certainly made up for it with more well-made steel that’s clearly come from his own personal collection.  The battleaxe is new, heavy enough that most would need two hands for it but he hefts it comfortably just in his right, while he’s carrying a nasty looking mace in his left.  It’s thick and heavy, the dark steel head bristling with big spikes, and I know full well that despite its crude appearance he can wield it deft as a sword, although it’ll do far uglier damage if he hits anyone with it …

“Shit …”  I mutter under my breath but Gael picks up on it all the same, turning to follow my gaze. Her eyes widen, but less with shock than a certain dread recognition.

“Oh … that’s the orc.”  She gives me a quick sidelong glance.  “So … is that you friend?”

“Ain’t sure I can call ‘im that anymore.”  I look round at the rest of … well, everything that’s going on right now, hoping for some kinda backup, but everybody’s busy right now. Damn it … this is down to us, then. Except …  “Gael, I want you to go help Shay, yeah?”

“What?”  They look at me like I’m crazy, and I don’t I blame ‘em.  “Art, there’s no way I’m just backing off from this.  That’s a Silver Order wizard over there, at least after a fashion, what are you going to do to her?  I have to deal with her myself.”

“That big bastard ain’t gonna let you get close enough to try anything, Gael.”  I try to fix her with the hardest stare I can, but it don’t feel any more convincing than I suspect it looks.  “That’s a fight you won’t be able to win.  And I don’t wanna see you get hurt.  Not again.”

Gael just blinks at that, I suspect I managed to stump ‘em for a moment. I really should just break and make a charge for Gran and the wizard now, while I got ‘em flummoxed, but I can’t bring myself to leave as their expression starts to soften.  They reach out, hesitant, bringing their hand close to my face, but stopping short.  “Oh, Art … I …”  Then their eyes lift, widening as they look past me to the new arrivals, and I turn fast to catch what they’re seeing.

The wizard raises both hands, staff held high in one, the crystal screwed into the top of it glowing such a bright white that everything around her’s lit starker than midday.  I can almost make out a face under that deep hood now, ‘least enough to catch her lips moving as she says … something, I don’t hear anything but I feel it pass all the same, recognising it’s a spell the same time she throws her free hand forward towards the other end of the courtyard, and something seems to pass us by, something I can’t see.  It’s heavy, though, suddenly we’re buffeted by what feels like a mighty wind and the grass in the path of this unseen force is torn aside in a great swathe.  Right up to Driver 8.

Who’s hurled clean through the fucking AIR like he’s caught a speeding boulder from a trebuchet right in the chest.  The force strikes him so hard I actually see it, like some massive bubble just bursts around him and all the rain that was falling around him just blasts off in all directions at once.  I don’t see it actually inflict any damage on him, I suspect it’d take a whole lot more to so much as scratch that insane armour he’s essentially made of, but he still folds up as the force of … whatever it is hits him and he whips off like a tossed stone.  For a blink he spins through the air, then he hits the front wall of the building and the ancient brick and mortar are no match for what’s hitting them as he leaves a fifteen foot hole in it.  Not to mention a great cloud of dust that even this much rain can’t disperse.

“Fuck me, what …”  All I can do is look at that hole in blatant shock, watching broken pieces of brick and shattered mortar fall away.  The rational part of me’s partly just impressed the wall’s still standing after that, but mostly I’m just wondering exactly what that could actually have done to Big Man.  I saw how fast and hard he was flying – even after hitting that wall I doubt he got slowed down much, he must have kept on flying a lot further than that …

“Down!”  Hands shove me off my feet and I’m still so surprised I don’t even think about fighting it as I’m tossed to the ground.  Something hot and bright sizzles over my head an instant later in the same moment that a fairly modest weight lands on top of me, and I feel ever one of my hairs suddenly stand up while it’s blazing over us.  An instant later there’s a thunderclap and another, more localised bright flash as something explodes near the entrance, and then the air down there is full of splintering wood and fire that’s quickly snuffed in the rain.  The weight shifts a beat after and I recognise Gael as much by their smell as anything else as they push off me, but keep crouched as low as they dare.  “Stay down!”  they hiss at me now, tone lower but still urgent.

I do as I’m told, only moving me head now as I turn it enough to look back in the direction of the wizard, the clear source of whatever the fuck that was. Gran’s still waiting at her side, and I get the impression now that he might actually only be here to protect her, make sure nobody else makes a play for her.  So … that’s interesting.  Might be something to that …

“Minerva …”  Gael mutters as they peel off their gloves, stuffing ‘em in the first pocket they can find. “Mad bitch, using lightning in this kind of weather.”

Another flash somewhere off to the west lights everything up blinding for a moment and the thunderclap sounds almost right after, and I see the wizard lifting her staff again as the crystal starts to flare.  Okay … “Gael, she’s doing something –”

“I see it.”  they mutter as they spit across one hand and rubs ‘em together, their staff now stuck up in the turf.  They weave out another sigil, fingers dancing fast, and it must be completed at the same time the wizard fires another lightning bolt at us because Gael pushes both hands through the sigil and then spreads them out wide.  That same weird, translucent amber dome starts to spread out in front of us as she does it, and it forms just in time to catch the bolt.

The impact is loud as any of the thunderclaps that preceded it, and for a moment I almost think we’re both dead anyway, the heat is awesome and I almost bury my head under my arms.  Only my curiosity stops me as I watch the bolt smash apart and crackle across the face of the dome, several new arcs lancing off and blasting in various different directions, most exploding with similar force when they strike whatever winds up in the way.

One of the hoods is unlucky enough to be in the way of one of these rogue branches, and for a moment I see him dance through the air, jerking with spasms as whatever this terrible, hot force is runs right through him.  I never really understood lightning, or this strange scientific stuff I’ve heard rumours of called … I dunno, eclectic?  All I do know is this stuff does spectacular amounts of damage to whatever it meets.  Even so, when he seems to just … burst a moment or so later, like he’s just turned into a great cloud of gritty dust, that’s a little more than I really expected.

“Fuck …”  I can’t help muttering it under my breath seeing it.

Gael lets out a winded grunt and I see them starting to waver just a little, but they’re gritting their teeth as they keep the dome up, and then the wizard cuts the bolt and they drop it at right after, sagging a little as the strain’s taken off.  I scramble up now, putting my shoulder to their back to push them upright as I realise I’m somehow still holding my blades, and they shake their hands violently as if they’ve just been burned.

“Damn it … guess we gotta deal with this shit instead, then.”

“Didn’t you say the orc would –”

“Just port straight to the wizard soon as you’re clear.  I’ll deal with Granzun.”  I can’t keep the bitterness from my voice, and Gael turns to me now as they retrieve their staff, looking me in the eye, suddenly a good deal more concerned.

“What are you –”

I don’t give ‘em a chance to stop me, just walking forward with purpose as I shove the hood back from my head with the pommel of my knife.  “GRANZUN!!!  THAT YOU, YOU UGLY FUCKING CUNT?!!!”

Even in the relative dim and driving rain, my eyes are sharp enough I can make out those amber eyes clear enough as they turn my way, narrowing immediately. A frown creases his heavy, shelf-like brow as I approach, spreading my hands wide and my blades with ‘em, keeping my eyes locked on his now even though there’s so much going on around us.  It takes a moment, but when recognition hits his eyes widen again and he straightens up a bit, taking a hesitant step forward before checking himself.

“Art?”  I barely hear his mutter, but I got good ears.  He steps back again, and now he’s almost shook.  “It … can’t be … what the fuck are you doin’ here?”

“These are my friends, Gran!  I want you to fuck off an’ leave ‘em alone!”

“What are you …”  His face hardens now, shoulders tightening as he starts to lumber forward, still moving slowly, seeming unsure of himself but starting to resolve now.  “I can’t do that.  This ain’t your business, Art!”

“Fuck you it ain’t my business!  I told you, these are my friends!!  You need to leave here now, before it costs you!”  I quicken my step, starting to tense up as I do it, and I tighten my grip on both my blades as I move.

Granzun doesn’t answer me this time, he just squares his shoulders and starts to rush me, his face tightening into a snarl as he lets out a clipped, controlled bellow.  I simply break into a full run too as my answer.

We didn’t used to spar much, back in the day.  Given how very different we both were in physicality, even when we were still growing, his sheer size always made it impossible for me to ever meet him on an equal footing in a fair fight.  The first time we tried it he came close to killing me, it was only by virtue of my own speed and the careful watchfulness of our teachers that I escaped getting killed.  After that, on the few occasions we ever matched up again I always tried to fight his unstoppable brawn through my own agility and quick thinking, and even then most of the time we’d come to an uncomfortable stalemate with no satisfied victor.  I never really worked out the key to beating him, because while he’s powerful as his massive bulk suggests, he’s got impressive speed and he knows how to move, partly through the intense drilling of our teachers but mostly down to natural talent.  But he never quite got a handle on my speed either, or the fact I could just move in ways he could never dream of doing.

Once I’m in range he doesn’t bother trying anything fancy, he just winds up the mace good and fast and brings it down with terrifying speed and so much sheer force I can hear it tearing through the air.  And he ain’t shooting for where I am either – he’s going for where he judges I will be.  By rights he should squash me like a bug right there.

Instead I’m gone, ducking sideways round the stroke and already aiming for the gap between his legs, winding up a thrust to ram deep into his crotch as I close the gap.  Except he’s already caught on to what I’m doing, so I just stab thin air as he sidesteps and I keep going past him.  I hear his grunt as he drags his mace free from the turf he’s just smashed it into, so I just throw myself forward as he swings it round after me, trailing a great swathe of torn muddy earth in its wake that barely misses me as I drop into a forward roll.

As I come up on the far side and see the wizard I realise how close I am now, and if I was less mindful of the threat right behind me I might even try for her anyway.  Then that increasingly familiar poof of displaced air hits me in the face as Gael’s portal opens right in front of me, and it seems they were ready coming out the other side because they just blast the bitch before she has time to react. Except she’s got tricks of her own, although it’s something I seen Gael use a few times too, their force-blast just smashing apart ineffectually over some kind of invisible shield she must throw up purely by reflex.

After that I got no choice but to turn my back on this latest brewing fight, instead turning into another roll to the right that barely saves me from getting cut in half by Gran’s big battleaxe.  I start to open ground between us the moment I’m up, dancing out in a rough circle around him while still seeking open ground behind me, and he doesn’t just charge right at me this time, instead coming after me at an angle as he starts to flank in the opposite direction.  He's watching me with cold determination now, our few matches likely flashing through his mind now as much as they are my own, so he’s remembering how tricky I can be.  I know him too well, I know he’s not stupid, he’s as smart as any other orc, and while he’s just as hot blooded he had years of training to teach him to counter his own temper and fight smart instead.  Not to mention whatever murderous unpleasantness Yevnik drummed into him after …

“Just remember, I gave you a chance, you stubborn little shit.”  His growl’s bitter, more regret than warning, but there’s still danger in his low rumble.  “You could’ve just left.”

“Yeah?  You just forgot what friendship means, you dumb thug.  Otherwise you’d know I can’t abandon my friends.”

A dark shape surges out of the shadows behind him on the left, drawing a sharp line low across his side, checking him before he can go for me.  If Granzun wasn’t even tougher than his thick leather plate that might’ve hurt him, but instead all the blade does is score a deep groove without ever meeting flesh and bring a deeper frown to the orc’s face.

Zuldrad turns at the end of his run, close on my left now, his right-hand dagger still cocked and ready as he inspects the damage.  When he sees just how ineffectual his attack actually was he simply frowns, a little perturbed maybe, but nothing more.  Certainly his voice is still calm and level as he simply mutters:  “Damn. That went different than I expected.”

“What’d you expect?”  I find myself growling back  “It’s gonna take more’n that to even dent him.”  Looking down at my sword and long knife, I see the rain’s essentially washed both clean of blood as I’ve been fighting.  After a moment’s thought I give my sword a quick whip and then ram it home into its scabbard again with a single swift motion before it can get wet again, then do the same with the knife.  They might not be the best fit for this fight as it is.

“What you thinking, then?”  Zul gives me a quick sidelong glance, wary of taking his eyes off Granzun as he regards us both, slowly adjusting his grip on his weapons as he squares his shoulders and sets his feet.  Mostly he looks fit to kill us both, but there’s a sliver in there, something that might still be a little reluctant.  Like he’s remembering … well, us.  He’s remembering who he was before Yevnik, before it all went to shit. When he still had us.  The only family he’s ever know.

It's just a flicker, and he’s fighting it.  But it’s there.  It could be enough.  I just wonder if I might actually be up to taking advantage of it …

Thing is, I really ain’t got a choice right now.  As I watch him something just … goes off behind Granzun, something that makes him twitch a little but nothing more, despite the fact it makes the whole place shudder.  It’s a loud cracking boom, accompanied by a great plume of bright blue smoke that bounces off the briefest flash of a big dome of aquamarine light.  Gael and the wizard are hurling everything they got at each other, and I got no idea how that’s gonna go, which terrifies me. So I have to fight my friend, maybe kill him.

Reaching up between my shoulder-blades, I slip my new knives free. This is gonna be close and dirty work, so I need the best I got.  “Stab, don’t try an’ cut.  Wear ‘im down, go for the gaps.  We gotta fight smart, not hard.”

When Zul growls this time, it’s just a wordless grunt, under his breath, he clearly ain’t too happy with this plan.  I hate it too, but there’s no choice.  He still tenses up, ready to spring, and I find myself doing the same. And Granzun sees us doing it, making him tense up too.

Then he stumbles to the side, twitching as he growls low, starts thrashing around, and it takes me a couple moments to work out why.  Two tiny figures are scrambling over his massive form, or at least they’re definitely significantly smaller than he is, and they’re moving fast as they stab him with their blades.  I’m another moment realising who it is that’s attacking him, though, until I catch a flash of bright yellow eyes and see one of them’s trying the best he can to jam his shortsword into Gran’s shoulder. It’s Brung, swinging savage, but the sudden, desperately wild thrashing of his target turns out to be enough to foul his aim, the sword barely managing to scrape a surface gouge across one of his pauldrons.  The other’s Darwyn, trying her best with one of her knives while she’s desperately clinging to leather plates with her other hand, but it’s little better than beestings to an orc Gran’s size.

“What d’you wanna –”

I don’t give Zul a chance to finish, I just growl:  “Just do what you can!”  and charge.  This is a fucking stupid idea but right now it’s the only one we got …

TO BE CONTINUED ...

[stylesunchained]

Playing House (PART 1)

Hello hello, darlings! Happy New Year! This is part one of this little adventure that I’ve decided to share with you as a little new year gift! Hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think! Lots of love, B xx

If you’d like to read more of my recent works, you can subscribe to my Patreon by clicking here x

--

You needed a change. You needed a change immediately or you’d go mad before the year was out.

Those were, more or less, the contents of the text you had sent Harry late one afternoon, after five excruciating months of quarantine with the constant presence of your roommate and her very loud work phone calls. Not that you weren’t working at home either but… it was too much. You couldn’t even remember what it felt like to be alone and able to take your time doing the things you needed instead of rushing to be out of her way.

“I need to move,” you cried out, huffing loudly and dragging your free hand over your face.

On your screen, Harry laughed and shook his head, sipping on his coffee as the bright sun shone from his kitchen windows. “Why don’t yeh?”

“Because!!” Because you never stopped to think about it or go after a new place to live. Or because you didn’t even know where to start or even because you were terrified of living completely alone for the first time… the list could go on.

“Been saying yeh wanted to live alone fo’ ages now…” He points out and you pout, looking off into the distance.

You had been - saying you wanted to live alone, that is. You had been saying it but saying it was much different than actually doing it and then the world turned on its axis and you had accepted your fate of dirty dishes that weren’t yours and messy common spaces and noises you couldn’t drown out no matter how hard you tried. You had accepted the constant company and the lack of self-awareness but now… well, now you were sick of it.

When work was still somewhere else and the only time you spent with her was the few moments between getting home and having dinner before retreating to your room, it was bearable. You could ignore it and sweep things under the rug to not cause any issues but things change and you certainly had changed and this was just… too much. Add that to the fact that you had nothing else to do other than work and look at the new apartments online, your hopes and dreams had been fueled by the desire of privacy - something you hadn’t had in a very long time.

And now… now things were slightly back to normal. And that meant you could try. That meant you could take a leap of faith and just do it. Right? Those were some of the many words Harry used to convince you, persuasive with his slow draw and sweet as honey voice. By the time he called you over later that week, you told him you were ready. You were going to do it, you were moving - he’d gone and convinced you and you had spent the last week looking for a flat, a new person to take your place and ironing details of this new chapter. What you didn’t tell him was that you were ecstatic but absolutely terrified.

“When d’yeh have to leave the old place?” His voice was a little muffled in the other room but you could still hear him from your place in his bed.

“Soon,” you sighed, laying back until your head hit one of his pillows. “The new girl is coming in three or four weeks, so…”

“Plenty of time to prepare, then,” he says, emerging from his bathroom with shampoo and conditioner bottles in his hand as well as what you assumed was an electric razor, his toothbrush and moisturizer.

A bag was wide open on top of the sturdy mattress and you could see the few things he’d managed to put inside - deodorant, a bottle of perfume, a few pairs of socks and some underwear, along with his old and scrappy notebook.

“Yeah, a little bit…” Shrugging, you rolled on your side, head resting on your hand as you looked up at him. Ever since you arrived, he’d been going about his room, gathering his belongings and throwing it in the bag while you sat there and watched quietly.

“So you’ll be free for the next few weeks,” his voice, as well as his expression, had a tinge of curiosity and his brows rose up as if to encourage you to say yes, you are free for the next few weeks.

“I guess so,” Squinting, suspicion washed over you but despite it, you took his bait. “Why do you ask?”

“‘M off to Italy for a bit,” he starts nonchalantly, focused on the way he’s folding the t-shirts he’d retrieved from his closet. “And I was wondering if yeh would do me a favour.”

It was an easy and simple bargain - while Harry was off, away in Italy, working, reading, eating pasta and frolicking under the Italian sun (his words, not yours), you’d house sit for him. When he came back, he’d help you move.

“Yeh can practice living on your own like a big girl,” Harry smirked, eyes glinting with mischief.

“Be nice or I’ll kidnap all of your records,” you threatened, rolling your eyes at him and he scoffed, the leathery belt in his hand slapping against your thigh with a vengeance, making you squawk, skin tingling with the sharp sensation. “Harry!”

Turns out two or three weeks was not plenty of time to prepare and by the time he’d texted you to let you know he was coming home soon, you were up to your neck with things to do. Living alone was not that simple, apparently - it meant you had many many other things to worry about than just finding the perfect cushion cover to go with your new couch or buying that new bed you were daydreaming about for the past year.

It had taken over your life completely, so much so you had forgotten to give him back his keys - and that was a week ago. Ever the gentleman (or was he just too busy?), he hadn’t said a word but you were well aware the only pair of keys to his office was safely tucked into one of the many inside pockets of your purse and you were sure sooner or later, he’d need it - even if he was too much of a nice person to ask.

The desperation to escape the chaos of your half-packed half-unpacked old flat along with the guilt of being an inconvenience is enough to convince you and, by the time Saturday rolls around, you make your way to his place with his keys in hand (and maybe a few records you had, indeed, kidnapped for a week or so).

The house looks empty from where you’re standing, just as you left it a week ago - curtains closed, lights off and not a sign of life anywhere to be seen. Frowning, you check the time - 9 AM. He should be up by now…

Confused, you type in the code at his gate before going in, digging through your purse for the house keys. Did you get it wrong? Was he still in Italy? Had you doomed any plants or food in his fridge by getting the dates wrong and leaving before you should’ve?

The thought alone sends anxiety coursing through your veins, urging you to head towards his door. It’s firmly locked, as you had left it and you don’t hear a peep - no TV, no music, not even the kettle or feet against the hardwood floors. Fuck, you really did fuck up…

Eyes scanning the foyer, you don’t notice anything different - there are no shoes, no coats or bags left anywhere and you frown, confused and more anxious. Was he or wasn’t he back? Slowly, you walk down the hallway, everything in the same place you had left it. That is until you turn around the corridor…

Leaning against the counter, he’s nose deep into his cup of coffee while scrolling through his phone and he is also, much to your surprise, naked as the day he was born. You can see everything - from head to toe, tanned skin stretched over strong muscles, some spots darker from the sun than others, as well as every drop of ink, some of which you had never been privy to before.

He looks warm - shiny from sweat that curls the ends of his hair, droplets of it over his neck and shoulder, he seems just back from a workout and you feel your stomach swoop when your eyes inevitably find his cock. There’s a moment of silence before you process the sight before your eyes but when you do, you gasp, hands covering your mouth while you stand there, frozen in place.

The noise startles him just as he tips his cup for another sip and he squawks when he sees you, hands fumbling, making burning hot coffee spilling from his cup to his chin down his neck and chest before he drops it with a loud thud on the counter.

He hisses before cursing and your hands tighten over your mouth even as you shriek an “Oh my god!”

“Fuck, it burns!”

Agony tints his voice and he doubles over, trying to stop the liquid from running down his body and it’s all you need to shift into action. With legs that feel nearly numb from the adrenaline, you rush over, grabbing the nearest dish towel, offering it to him with shaky hands and he takes it, beet red cheeks like neon signs on his face.

“I didn’t— when did yeh...?”

Mouth opening and closing, you try to make a sound but you can’t - there’s more to see now that you’re closer, details of his body you never ever thought you’d see and it leaves you speechless, eyes flicking up to his as your cheeks seem to heat up enough to match his.

“I— um—“ and it’s only then you look off to the side, deep breath to try and calm your racing heart and trembling hands.

“If I knew—“

“I was only— you gave me the keys—“

“Keys?”

“I didn’t think— I’m sorry, are you alright?”

“‘M f-fine, I—“ Following the path your eyes had been taking over his body and back up, Harry drops both hands to cover himself, eyes averting yours when he looks up again. “Stings a bit but I’m fine, y— what are yeh doing here?”

You swear you had never seen him this red or this shocked - it’s clear in his eyes and the stance as he tries to cover himself up, moving slowly as to not startle either one of you anymore. Guilt eats at you when you see the dark stain of the coffee against his skin, the edges of it already going red from the mild burn and it makes you whimper, remorse and shame burning a hole in your chest.

“What are yeh doing—“ Harry squawks when you kneel but you dismiss him with a wave of your still shaky hand, opening the drawer where he keeps all of his kitchen towels instead. You dig through, snatching the first one you see that seems soft enough and when you look up, you’re face to face with his crotch, his hands the only thing between your face and his cock.

“I— I was just bringing back the keys to the house,” you let out breathless, standing up so quickly it makes you dizzy but you squeeze your eyes shut for only a second before opening them again. Running the fabric under cold water before twisting the excess out, you reach for him with gentle hands, dragging the wet cloth over his shoulder and chest, down his sternum and belly where the coffee-stained his skin, taking away the stickiness but leaving the redness behind. “Fuck, Harry, I’m sorry, I’m so—“

“S’okay,” he says but he’s still frozen in place and he hisses slowly when you drag the fabric over a particularly red spot. “S’not your fault, I spilled—“

“I should’ve texted,” you say, remorseful. “Or...”

“M’mean, that might’ve helped some,” Harry admits with a dry laugh, wincing when the skin pulls. It’s red and bright compared to the rest of him but it isn’t a deep burn and for that you’re thankful - your guilt was worse than the wrath of millions who would want you dead if they knew you had hurt him.

“I’m—“

“S’okay, it’ll fix itself,” he says gently.

Here he was, butt naked and wounded because of your clumsiness and still he was trying to calm you down. It’s safe to say it doesn’t work - his kindness only makes you feel guiltier and more embarrassed and tears well up in your eyes from the sudden mix of feelings.

“I’m sorry!” It’s tortured and whiny and you lean in, resting your forehead to his shoulder, hand resting over the butterfly on his stomach. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I jus—“

“Darling,” calm but firm, Harry stops you and after carefully removing one of his hands from where he’s covering himself, he grabs your wrist, pulling you until you’re a few inches away from him. “It’s all good. Now if yeh jus’ let me get dressed—“

Slightly awkwardly positioned as he tries to get you off of him without your hand touching anything inappropriate or giving you more of an eyeful than you already had, both your breathing’s are harsh and loud enough to catch the other's attention. “I’m—“

“Stop saying you’re sorry,” he soothes you and you notice the way the corner of his lips ticks up when your eyes drop down again before you roll your head back, blinking up at his ceiling. “Told yeh m’fine, just need t’put a bloody pair of pants on....”

“Okay, yeah, go… go,” Nodding, you shoo him away, hands covering your eyes so he can turn around.

You hear his bare feet slapping against the floor and you let out a shaky breath before dropping your hands but it’s still too early and he’s just a few steps away. Head to toe, bare ass fully visible you watch his tense shoulders as he walks away and you can’t help but whimper, heat bubbling up your body from your toes to the very top of your head.

Your legs feel like jello and your heart is still racing even when you hear him clear his throat before a door shuts behind him and it’s then you finally allow yourself to inhale sharply. What in the world had just happened? How could you possibly erase the image of his fully naked body from your brain?

Desperate for a distraction and something to occupy your clammy hands, you search for cleaning products and a clean rag before leaning over the coffee stains and getting to work. First a damp cloth over the stains, then a bit of product, then a gentle scrub - one, two and three, you go through the routine you’d normally do on your floors. You’re thankful for the distraction and the strong smell of the cleaning products, which seem to put things back into perspective a bit - it wasn’t that pretty, was it? It wasn’t and yo—

“What are yeh doing?”

Harry’s voice startles you and just like that, every thought and feeling comes rushing back, hitting you like a ton of bricks. He’s covered now - gym shorts and a tank top - but it does nothing to erase the memory of his naked body and you gulp, frozen in place.

“There’s— there’s coffee,” you say, barely breathing. “It’ll stain, you don’t want a stain on the floors, I’m trying to—“

“Let me do that,” he says. “S’not something you need to get on your knees for.”

Both of you pause at that, heat climbing up your body and you groan, sitting back, dropping the rag so your hands can cover your face. “I’m never gonna live this down, am I?”

You hear him laugh and you look up, watching as Harry scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s not... something that usually happens with us,” he says.

Nodding robotically, you swallow the question that climbs up your throat and accept his hand when he extends it to help you get up. Somehow, touching him feels different now - skin on skin makes your palms sweaty and your knees weak and paired with the memory of his body, it’s like you now know what he feels like naked.

An awkward silence falls between you as he pulls you up and close, a hand on your waist to steady you when you sway while you exchange nervous looks that seem to stem from the same nervous energy that surrounds you.

“So” Harry starts suddenly, startling you when he breaks the nearly deafening silence in the room. “How was it for you?”

It’s a joke - at least it’s supposed to be one - and you know he’s trying to break the tension and bring you both back to the easy and effortless dynamic you usually have but it makes your jaw drop, completely at a loss. No laugh, no giggle and instead of pushing him away, you can’t help but look him up and down, deep in thought.

How was it for you? Electrifying is one way to put it - it’s been over twenty minutes since and you’re still thinking about it. He looked good but then again you’ve always known he did. Just because you were his friend didn’t mean you were immune to the effects he had on virtually every human he ever met - you still vividly remember the way your heart fluttered when he hugged you before placing a kiss to your cheek the first few times you met (and quite a few times after that). You still got a little woozy when he got drunk and extra touchy with you but you had always been friends and nothing more than that and now… now you’ve seen him naked. You’ve seen in vivid detail the dark ink of his ferns tattoos leading to a soft patch of hair and then to his cock and you’re pretty sure the image will be permanently etched onto your brain.

Pretty isn't a word anyone would use to describe someone’s penis but it seemed to be the one your brain had chosen for his, closely accompanied by the words “big”, “thick” and “pink” - the last one doing a number on you, your mouth watering at the thought, a pull behind your navel that makes your legs weak. You weren’t supposed to - this was nothing more than an accident - but the sight of him and every detail of his body seemed to be tattooed on your eyelids, springing up like a high-quality picture every time you squeezed your eyes shut.

Heat springs up at the very center of you and spreads along your body, making you feel dizzy and breathless and also, extremely stupid. Anyone else would’ve been just fine - he’s only a man (a very beautiful looking one at that) but still, just a man and most of all, your friend, and you weren’t allowed these kinds of feelings.

Your silence prompts him to laugh - a humourless one followed by a “That bad, huh?” while he steps back and away from you and you’re quick to react.

“No!” Quick, loud almost, which is too much of a reaction and almost worse than complete silence. “I mean—“ huffing, you slap him with the towel you had used to clean him up earlier. “Why are you asking?”

You watch as he opens his mouth then closes again, looking to the floor as if it’ll give him an answer - why was he asking? Why did he want to know? Was he—

“Would expect more of a reaction when someone saw me naked fo’ the first time...” Harry says finally. His voice tries to joke, fake offence tinting it along with a quick laugh but it’s forced and his eyes seem to search yours for answers you’re refusing to give him.

Humming lowly, lips closed tightly, you avert his gaze, arms crossing over your chest like a shield when you open your mouth again, lies spilling from your lips. “Didn’t really see…much,” you say. “Just kind of... walked in.”

“Think yeh saw plenty,” he says and when you look at him again, his cheeks are flushed. “Weren’t that far and yeh got closer.”

“It’s not like I—“ You start, fumbling for words to explain yourself.

“Not like what?”

“It’s not like I really saw you,” you say. “Intentionally.”

No, it was not intentional - you don’t think you could ever come up with a clever enough way to catch him in the nude intentionally. But even if not intentional, it had been enough to spark something inside of you.

“Would yeh like to?”

His question is almost shy, tentative - like he’s testing the waters before diving in - but it takes you completely off guard.

“What?”

Certain you’ve heard him wrong, you ask him breathlessly and you watch while he flounders, bare nail scratching against the hair on his jaw.

“S’ just a question....”

But it wasn’t. It wasn’t just a question. A simple question wouldn’t imply any intention but this… this sounds like a proposal.

Stepping forward, Harry leans against the counter and you can feel the heat rolling off of him in waves as you two stand close enough for touching.

“That’s a—“ gulping, you grip to the edge of his counter and you look everywhere but his face, your nerves getting the best of you. “It’s a we-weird question,” you laugh nervously.

“‘M a curious man…”

It feels like a fever dream - all of it - but especially this. One moment you two were staring at each other, your ragged breathing the only thing breaking the heavy silence that seemed to have descended onto the room and the next, his hands were on you and your lips were on his.

Head tilting and lips parting, you allowed Harry to kiss you - your good friend, your mate, the one you were positively sure nothing ever could happen with was kissing you hard enough to make you whimper. Deep and unrelenting, his tongue slid into your mouth and massaged yours slowly, while his hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer to him.

Blindly stumbling down the hall, the two of you seem to have forgotten that you need to breathe, your lips parting only to reunite again half a second later, the sounds of heavy breathing and filthy lips smacking ringing in your eyes while he presses you to his bedroom door.

“Wha—“ you try to speak but his lips are on your again and your eyes roll while you moan, your hands dragging over his chest and up his neck.

Who cares what you were going to say? Who cares that this is the most absurd thing that the two of you have ever done? Who cares? Who cares when he tastes like the mint of his toothpaste and his skin smells like soap and man and his hands feel like they’re burning paths over every inch of your body he touches? Who cares when he feels warm and sturdy while he presses you to the door and you feel, much to your surprise, his hand cupping your breast over your dress… certainly not you. You don’t care at all and you want him to keep going even if the sane part of you is telling you to stop it.

When his hand abandons your body and he pulls away for a second to open the door, that same sane part of your brain, even if a little muddled with desire, gains some clarity. You stop yourself halfway from leaning in to kiss his neck and your fingers twist in the hair at the nape of his neck so you can make him look at you.

“Are we being stupid?” You ask breathlessly, voice tortured and eyes locked on him.

“No,” shaking his head, Harry leans in and his mouth is on yours again while he pushes you into the room, kicking the door closed behind him and nearly toppling over you when he trips on his own feet. “No,” repeats again when he steadies himself, a hand on the back of your head while the other presses to your waist as he pushes you back towards his bed. “Not stupid, no.”

“This is coercion,” you mumble accusingly, walking back with him, and he laughs, only kissing you harder. Your hands slide under the hem of his shirt so you can press them to his back and you can’t help but drag your nails over his skin, delighting in the moan that comes out of him.

“Arrest me, then…”

The back of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you squeal as you two fall back, all six foot of him landing on you. You huff but he cackles and you cry out with a laugh, sliding your leg around his hip so the two of you can fit better, the weight of his pelvis pressing to yours making heat pool low in your belly.

Call it impulse or a whim, the catalyst had been the tension that seemed to gain a life of itself from the second you spotted him bare. It was all-consuming and raw, so overwhelming it seems like neither of you can fight it as it takes over your brains and body - like an invisible force that keeps pushing both of you as you go.  

This was insane and you’re sure he’d agree weren’t Harry so busy dragging his lips down your neck and his hands up your thighs, bringing with him the dress that inches up your body until it’s off somewhere on the floor. You’re sure he’d agree emphatically wasn’t he very firmly pressed against your center, so much so that you can feel his cock through the flimsy thin fabric of his running shorts and your knickers. You were sure if any of you were of sound mind and in control of your cognitive abilities, he’d not have his mouth on your nipple and fingers teasing your cunt and you’d most definitely not have given in to whatever primal instinct that had possessed you to slide your hand under his pants and slowly but surely drag your trembling fingers up and down the length of his cock, thumb dragging over the vein. You were sure … What were you sure of? Nothing at all, it seems, because doubts are erased from your brain when item after item of clothing is discarded until his bare chest is pressed to your bare chest, your hands working him up until he’s nice and full, the head pink and leaking pre-cum as you tease him.

With a hand over your breast and another on your ass, mouth on yours as he kisses you long and deep, you can’t help but let go of him, hands sliding over his chest while your thighs spread open wider and the two of you move slowly, naked bodies grinding against the other. It’s a lot - the sweat, the smell, the friction (the heaviness of his hard cock resting over your bare slit, teasing your clit every time he presses down harder) - and you’re both lost in it, intoxicated by the taste and the feeling enough that you don’t notice his bare cock is pressed to your entrance until he presses in until he’s buried to the hilt. Letting out a sharp gasp, your body tenses up, spine bowing and head thrown back.

“H-hooly fuck…”

Filled with awe and incredulity, Harry’s voice trembles as he moans, his once taut neck relaxing until he can drop his head to your chest, heavy breathing washing over your skin while the two of you stay silent and still. Heart hammering, ears ringing and nails digging into his shoulders, you try gulping down quick breaths to calm you down enough so you can relax but it proves difficult as the overwhelming sensation of his cock stretching your walls makes your eyes and entrance sting and something pull behind your navel.

“Shit,” Harry cries out, gulping down breaths, lips dragging over the side of your breast, the tip of his nose tickling your skin. His facial hair, fuller than he’s ever let it get before, scratches lightly against you, raising goosebumps that seem to spread from where his touching, all over your body and it adds to the bone-melting sensation. “Shit, fuck, you’re--”

Tight. Very tight. You know it because you feel it too - walls pulsing around him, he can’t seem to move, your knees locked on his sides. You can see the way his eyes roll and his hands tremble as he drags them down your side before dipping between the two of you, index and middle finger pressing to your clit, drawing slow circles that make you twitch and bear down on him.

“T-too much,” you gasp and twist under him but he presses forward again until every inch of him is buried inside of you.

“Shh,” mumbling against your skin, he drags his tongue over your pert nipple before suckling, tongue toying with the pebbled nub while his fingers keep circling your clit, making you cry out. “Shh, you’re okay, shh...”

“Too much, too mu-- H-Harry, please...” you’re not a beggar but you’re begging for his mercy then. There’s a lot of him - smooth skin over hard muscle over six feet of him that stretch on top of you, lengthy and thick cock pressed so deep you can feel him in your belly, heavy weight resting on you as he, too, trembles and tries to take in what just happened. He’s inside of you - deep, hard, unrelenting - and he feels good but he’s also too much. Never ever had you been this full - there’s not an inch left inside of you for him to fill - and it’s turning you to goo, your knees weak and hands shaking and cunt pulsing until you’re so wet you can feel it drip when he finally manages to pull back and thrust inside again.

“‘S it,” he marvels, pushing up onto his elbows until he’s hovering above you, stomachs rubbing as he slowly moves in and out and in and out again, eyes flickering down to where you’re joined together. “‘S it, good girl, go-- fuck, you’re dripping, darling…”

Hips bucking up, you cry out, revelling in his praise and you can’t help but let your eyes and clammy desperate hands drag up and down his torso. Your nails scratch against the stark contrast of his tattoos against sweaty skin - some of them you can feel against your fingertips while others have no distinguishing feeling, the texture mixed with the smell and sensation of him making fireworks go off in your brain and body. What is this, you want to ask. How the hell does sex with a friend feel like this? There’s nothing you could compare it to because you’ve never felt this before - the fullness, the connection, the need…

Every thrust of his cock reaches deep inside of you and seems to evoke the need for another and another and another. When your lips find his again, despite the difficulty to breathe, you melt into it, tongue sliding against his in a slow, teasing drag that makes your toes curl and your hands cling tighter to his back. He tastes good but he smells even better - like his perfume from the night before and soap and now sweat, that drips from his hair down to his neck and chest, the sheen of it glinting in the light coming through the window. You want to taste it - him - like you tasted his tongue and when you do, nose buried in his neck while your tongue dips out so you can drag it over his skin, you feel electrified.

“Again,” his voice rumbles in his chest and you tighten your arm around his neck, nose pressing tightly to the spot under his ear where his hair tickles your nose and you can smell him best. “D-do tha’ again, fuck, do that again…”

Tongue flat, you lick up his neck before you pull his lobe between your teeth then down again, suckling on his pulse point until Harry’s grunt melts into a moan and he falters mid thrust, dropping his hips as his trembling arms give in and he lands on you with a huff.

“M’ neck--” he gulps but he doesn’t have to say it - it’s his sweet spot and you smile against the skin of it while peppering desperate kisses to it.

“I know,” you nod, turning your head until your mouths press together. “I know, just don’t--” Squirming underneath him, you roll your hips as much as the weight of him allows you to and the two of you moan in unison against each other’s mouths. “Don’t s-stop, please…”

You’ve always known he was a good listener but this truly took the cake - after he picked up his pace again, he never stopped. He was everywhere and you couldn’t get enough of it - hand pressed to your belly, forehead pressing to yours and cock so deep you could see it pressing to your stomach every time he fucked in harder, he never stopped until you were unravelling. It happened out of nowhere and it took both of you by surprise when you squeezed around him, walls pulsing and body shaking from head to toe, head thrown back as his name fell from your lips like a mantra you couldn’t stop repeating. “Harry, Harry, Harry, H-Harry…!”

It was explosive. It started on the very center of you and sprawled over your body - each flick of his thumb paired with the deep thrusts of his cock sent you closer and closer to the edge until you were possessed by the burning heat of it. You were seeing blind - white spots splattered over darkness in your eyes while you wound arms and legs around his body, pressing him against you as tightly as you could.

“Fuck!” You shout against his shoulder, shaking and twisting under him. “F-fuck, fuck, holy fu--”

You’re breathless, sore and spent but you can’t stop. He looks wild on top of you - hair pointing every which way and sticking to his skin, he keeps going and you can’t let go. Hands hovering all over you, you move with him and you watch in awe while his eyes roll back and he curses under his breath, praising you - your cunt, your lips, your breasts, your smell, everything is good and you’re his good girl every time you kiss him.

Eager hands reach between you and you carefully but teasingly play with his balls, making him stutter and shiver from head to toe. “I’m gonna cum!” Harry warns, bewildered and shocked. “I’m go-- keep doing tha’, please darling, gonna make me cu-cum…”

“Please?” You beg, moaning against his lips, fingers teasing his balls. “Please, I want you to cum…”

Harry cums like he fucked you - hard, intense and hot, spurt after spurt of warm cum filling you up while his hips kept going, the loud noise of your wetness and his cum filling the space between you while he moved in and out, your hands on his ass to help him keep moving towards his finish. It’s a lot, so much so that you can both hear it and feel it drip and Harry’s teeth sink into your shoulder when he pulls out, his balls squeezing as he lets out the last bit of him against your stomach.

You can feel his cock against you, wet from both of you and spent just like you, but you don’t mind - bodies sweaty and tangled, you both cling to each other as your breathing slowly goes back to normal.

It’s a long time before either of you speaks again and the silence is only filled with the sounds of your nails dragging over his scalp before Harry bravely speaks up, his voice muffled by your neck.

“So…” he starts and you giggles, his lips tickling your neck. “How was it for you?”

Cackling, you shake your head, fingers pinching his side gingerly and he yelps, burrowing further against you.

“Silly boy,” you joke, fingers tangled in his hair.

“Gonna ask yeh t’ take care of the house more often,” Harry jokes, pulling up until he’s nose to nose with you, lips pressing to yours in a gentle kiss.

“What’s in it for me?” You ask, arms wrapping around his neck, a smile playing at your lips.

“Me,” he tells you and you squawk, laughing. “We could play house again…” His voice is as cheeky as his smile and the glint in his eyes, letting you know “playing house” is the last thing on his mind.

Rolling your eyes, you pull him down until your mouths are pressed together, the slow drag of his tongue igniting the desire deep inside of you. There’s a lot you want to say, a lot you want to ask but for now, “playing house” under his sheets seems like a good way to start.

[thecleverdame]

Gods of Twilight - 10

Alpha!Werewolf!Sam x Human!Reader

Master List (posting schedule is there as well)

Summary: You marry Sam, The King of Lebanon, as part of an alliance between two lands. You soon discover that nothing is as it appears and that your husband is hiding a secret that may end your relationship before it can begin.

Warnings: smut, dub-con, canon-level violence, domestic discipline, spanking

Beta:  ilikaicalie

*Chapters 11-26 are available on Patreon. To get access to this and many other stories, subscribe for a pledge of 2.50 per month. CLICK HERE

-

“Are you mad woman?” Theo yells, slamming the heavy book down on the table with a boom.

“Lower your voice, good sir!” you hiss, taking a step back.

He’s a large man, nearly twice your size and formidable on a good day.

“The Kingdom's coffers aren’t your personal funds,” he spits, coming around the table. “I’m entrusted with great responsibility. Don’t make the mistake of thinking your title allows you unfettered access. If you were anyone else I’d have you stripped and flogged-”

“Watch your mouth, Actuary.” Sam steps into the room and you slink back away from both men.

“My King.” Theo bows, jaw tightening. “Please forgive me.”

“You’ll not speak to my wife in such a way.” Sam glances at you, taking a step to put himself between you and Theo. “Need I remind you you’re in the presence of a Queen?”

“Of course not, my lord. A thousand apologies, m’lady.”

“Do you accept his apology?” Sam turns, handing the power to you. “Or should I have him stripped and flogged for speaking to you in such a way?”

“I accept his apology,” you nod. Theo is glaring at you, nostrils flaring as he tries and fails to hide his discontent.

“If I ever hear of you speaking to her like that again, I’ll take care of you myself.” Sam points a finger at the financier who nods his head in return.

“I understand, sir. I don’t know what came over me.”

Sam looks him over, before reaching to take your arm. You scurry beside him as he marches you down the hallway, several knights behind you. Once in the privacy of your bedchambers, he turns to you, eyes narrowing.

“What was he upset about?”

“I wrote a note, a promise of funds.”

“How much.”

“A thousand shillings,” you whisper, afraid of his response.

“A thousand?” He cocks an eyebrow, taking a step toward you. “Why? For who?”

“There is a woman in the village who takes in wayward children, those that no one else will care for. Her house is full, but the walls are crumbling and they’re starving. There was no bread to eat, no wood for the fire. Not even enough blankets for all the little ones. I had to do something.” You raise your chin, despite your fear of him.

Sam stares at you for a moment, cocking his head in thought. “Why a thousand?”

You’re taken off guard by this question, pausing to explain. “Golda and Phillip helped me estimates costs. She needed a builder for her walls, food and clothes for the children. We created a list of costs and threw in a bit extra.”

For the first time since you’ve known him a genuine smile crosses his face as he chuckles. “Well, it sounds like you did your due diligence.”

“Would you have preferred I ask your permission?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “You seem to be doing just fine on your own.”

-

It’s almost midnight. You’re sitting in a chair near the fire, reading and sipping tea when Sam returns.

“Are you hungry?” you ask without looking up. Over the last several weeks he’s made a point of having supper with you nearly every night. Tonight however he was noticeably absent.

“I’ll eat later,” he answers, walking over to you. “Get up and get dressed.”

“Now?” You look at him, trying to suss out what he’s playing at.

Sam is trying to put what happened behind you, but you’re afraid you’ll always feel wary of him.

Not to mention your added security detail. A walk in the village flanked by two dozen guards isn’t a walk, it’s a spectacle. Your life has narrowed down to this room and the small gardens within the Castle’s keep.

“Yes, now,” he instructs, throwing a thick cloak over his shoulders. “Put on something warm, we will be outside for some time and snow has started to fall.”

He waits, standing in the middle of the room as you get up and slink out of your nightdress and into a gown. Once you’re fully dressed in a cloak, hat, and thick fur gloves, he ushers you out of the room.

The halls are empty, the stones echoing with footfall as you walk behind him, following for what feels like a lifetime. You descend down toward the stables only to find a garrison of knights readying their horses.

“You’ll ride with me,” Sam instructs, gesturing toward a huge dappled horse that whinnies as it looks at you.

“I know how to ride,” you offer but he’ll hear none of it.

“Tonight you’ll stay with me.” Offering you a hand he helps you onto the steed’s back and then mounts, sliding into the saddle behind you. You lean back against his chest, gripping the horse’s mane as the entire party starts out of the keep and toward the bridge. They move in a choreographed manner, with Sam at the lead, knights two by two behind him.

Moving through the dark streets of the village you're surprised when the first commoner joins the caravan. He’s waiting in an alley and folds into the formation as they continue onward. A dozen other men join before you’re out of the city and then it’s across the drawbridge and out into the fields.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” He counters, sliding an arm firmly around your waist, pulling you back in a crushing embrace. “Hold on.”

With one hand on the reigns and the other around you, he takes off at a gallop and his men follow. The sound of hooves pounding the ground and the horse's heavy breath is all you can hear as you near the edge of the forest.

You nearly yelp as the horse makes a sharp left, cutting along the tree line, narrowly missing the outstretched branches. As your sight adjusts under the moonlight you can see the open path in the woods ahead. It’s a small, narrow passage and Sam remains in the lead as they ride single file into the shadowy wood.

The whipping wind is made worse by the speed at which you’re traveling. Your nose has long since gone numb and the cloak you chose, while it is the thickest you own, is doing little to keep you warm.

The journey is a long one but Sam slows the horse as he approaches the unknown destination. Without warning the forest is gone and you’re in the middle of a clearing. There are countless torches aflame, surrounding the perimeter and several dozen men and women are gathered around a fire.

Sam jumps off the horse, placing both hands on your hips to help you to the ground, allowing his horse to roam free.

“Are you are cold?” he asks, watching as you pull the hood of your cloak around your head.

“Y-yes,” you chatter, now realizing that you’re practically frozen.

“Come to the fire, you’ll be warmer there.” He heads toward the gathering and you follow, staying close beside him. “They are all like me.”

“Wolves?” you breathe quietly, unconsciously moving closer to him, your shoulder pressing against his arm.

He places a hand at the small of your back, small comfort as you approach the rather raucous gathering. There’s music, an upbeat song playing on a lute as they pass flasks from one man to another. The chatter winds down to a whisper as Sam approaches.

“Your majesty,” a portly gentleman bends a knee with a roll of his hand and there’s a gentle laugh from the group. “We have a visitor, I see.”

“My wife.” Sam takes you by the arm, pushing you forward as you blink back at the faces watching in silence. No one says a word, and there’s a long, uncomfortable pause It’s a small dark-haired woman who eventually steps forward, raising her flask to the fire.

“We are glad to have you, my queen.” Her words are friendly but her eyes flicker from you to Sam with a spark that you make note of.

After a beat, the music resumes, chatter growing loud.

“What is this?” you ask, turning to your husband. “Some sort of secret society meeting?”

“Something like that,” Sam nods. “There is a full moon tonight. Many will shift.”

There’s no calming the uneasy feeling in your chest, as you look around. “Is it safe for me to be here?”  

“I wouldn’t have brought you if I thought it dangerous,” he confirms. “I will shift as well. Phillip will stay with you.”

“Why did you bring me here?” you sputter, watching as they begin to undress, stripping down in front of each other.

“Because you need to know what I am, to see it. And if you want freedom, you must know what lurks out here in the darkness. I can ensure your safety because you’re here with me and there plenty of my men to keep you out of harm’s way. But in the dark, alone, it’s not only Luther’s murderous men that roam, it’s also all sorts of wild things.”

He stares at you a moment longer and then takes off his cloak, handing it to you. He begins to strip along with the rest of them.

“Come with me, m’lady.” Phillip appears beside you, guiding you closer to the fire as they wander away, into the field.

You watch Sam, your eyes fixed on his naked buttocks as his whole body contacts in a sudden and violent twitch. His shoulders roll back, neck cocking to the side. The brunette who spoke to you earlier appears beside him, nude and jerking in the same fashion. Suddenly the night is filled with a chorus of moans and howls.

It appears as if Sam’s bones are shifting under his skin, moving in a most unnatural way and then the transformation happens fast. In the blink of an eye, his skin becomes a thick pelt of white fur and instead of the man that was there seconds ago, there is now a giant wolf, the very same that you walked with the woods on that fateful night. The woman beside him is now a smaller coal black wolf, turning back to look at you.

Sam takes off, legs springing to action as he sprints off into the darkness and they all follow. The night is filled with howls and yelps that fade into the distance.

You can scarcely breathe, looking at Phillip with wide eyes. For the first time your life you are truly speechless.

“Don’t be afraid,” he explains gingerly. “No one would dare to hurt you. Besides, they’re hungry for furry little rabbits, not a human woman.”

“You aren’t one of them?” You inspect at him in the firelight.

“I am,” he confirms. “I’ll have my chance when they return.”

“I don’t know what to say,” you sputter, staring off into the night.

“I suspect you’ll find the words eventually,” he grins, offering you a nip of his flask.

-

When Sam and the rest of them return they walk out of the darkness in human form, naked and covered in mud and small cuts. Sam is jovial, laughing with a bright smile on his face. His brother on one side and the woman at the other. He finds his clothes, pulling on his trousers before spotting you across the fire and making his way to you.

“I trust you were in good hands while I was gone.”

“Of course.” You force a smile at Phillip who bows his head and disappears. “This is quite a lot to take in all at once.”

“I understand.” He pulls his shirt back over his head, eyes locking on you. “Are you more or less afraid of me than before?”

Gathering your thoughts you start to speak and then stop, choosing your words carefully.

“My fear never had anything to do with...this.” You hold your head high. His brows pulls together, face unreadable.

“I see,” he nods, looking around as people begin a makeshift celebration around the fire. You can’t help the shiver that runs down your spine, you've been out in the elements for hours now.

“You’re shaking.”

“I am not as adapted to the outdoors as you.” Your teeth chatter as you pull your cloak closer around you.

“I’ll take you home.”

He settles behind you on the horse, wrapping his cloak around you as he takes off at a slower pace than you arrived. Several knights trail behind him.

“You’re practically frozen,” he huffs, hot breath at your ear. You’re trembling against him and the arm around your belly pulls you in tighter to him. “I shouldn’t have kept you out for so long.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll have a hot bath when we return.”

“I will join you.”

You sigh at his words, the two you have not been together in an intimate manner since the belting. You would have opened your legs to him out of obligation if he asked you to, but he hasn’t so much as suggested it.

“I am sorry for what I did to you.” He whispers, pressing a warm cheek against your temple. You’re unprepared for an apology, but even more unprepared for the promise that comes after it.

“I will never put my hands on you in anger again. You have my word. Will you please forgive me?”

Your eyes close as you release a breath.

“Yes,” you turn your head to the side, forehead pressing into his cheek. “Let’s not talk of it again.”

[shnuggletea]

Another WIP Wednesday! Chapter One is now LIVE on Patreon! 

Synopsis: Everyone has stories in their family. Ones of love, pain, happiness, and struggles. With these four families so close, blood has little to do with their stories since they share their lives anyway. And these stories show how Mamoru x Usagi, Ami x Zoi, Mina x Kun, Mako x Neph, and Rei x Jed fall in love despite conflict and promises not to ever fall in love with each other.

Chapter 23 of Love Lost is also live on my Patreon. Chapter 24 (the finale) will be live soon. Probably first week of December. The first chapter of this fic in there as well as many others for your consideration and access to the Kissing Booth where you can create your perfect kiss between your fave OTP. Subscribe today!!

They had rented this house every year for as long as the oldest of the horde of nieces and nephews could remember, so they knew exactly how to get to the game room at the back of the house. Soon, they were deeply engrossed in a game of Uno.

“I say we up the stakes!”

“Oh yeah?” She teased the eldest boy, Ren, “And just how do you suppose we do that?”

“Losers have to do whatever the winner says!”

The other four children groaned so Usagi compromised. “How about we just tell a secret?”

“Yeah!” They all cheered.

Usagi had little to fear, the four of them weren’t the best of players. Still young, they didn’t quite get how to ration their cards to work to their advantage. She tried not to beat them too badly, but it was hard not to!

“Uno.” She said softly but strong. 

They all groaned again, this time in defeat. She pointed to cue them, starting at the youngest and going upwards in age. Little Sora twisted her fingers in fear above her belly. “I peeked at my presents this year.”

Usagi mocked shock and disappointment at the small girl but really that was an impressive feat. “You shouldn’t do that, Sora!”

Nagomi went next. “I put on Mommy’s lipstick when she’s not around.”

Usagi only clucked her tongue at that one, moving on to Youta and his fidgeting. “I hate my Math tutor. She’s just mean!”

“I think you do like her, Youta!” Ren teased and they all giggled at the red-faced boy.

“Your turn, Asahi,” Usagi recalled.

Twisting a little finger in her hair, Asahi blushed heavily. “I don’t have a secret.”

“Come on! Everyone has a secret!!” Ren pushed.

She shook her head and Usagi gave her a break. “Ren, why don’t you go then?”

“Fine! I’m not scared!! I’m in love with….” He stopped as if he lost his courage in a breath but then suddenly found it again. “With Auntie Usagi!”

Mocking surprise, she gave the little boy a show. But Usagi had known for a while now that the kid had a crush on her. It was clear. And his mother Rei kept telling her that he had one. It would be more embarrassing for him if she knew before he confessed. So instead she gave him a big hug.

“Thank you, Ren. I love you too.”

“Are you and Ren going to get married?” Asahi asked with a sad look on her face.

Usagi had a good feeling Asahi’s secret was that she liked Ren but she would wait and let the girl tell him herself. “Well, Ren is too young.”

“Do you love someone else?” 

Busy giving Ren some comfort for refusing him, Usagi popped her attention to Youta and his question. “I do.”

“So you have a boyfriend?” Sora asked.

Nagomi reprimanded her, “Hey, she won remember!! She doesn’t have to tell a secret!” 

“It’s fine, I’ll go in Asahi’s place. I do have...a someone...”

“Go wash your hands, dinner is ready.”

They all flinched, the cool tone of his voice and startling appearance had them all fearing Mamoru as he stood in the doorway, looking pissed. She offered the kids a warm smile, helping a few to their feet from the circle they made on the floor. They still coward a little when passing by the eerie demon at the door. While it made Usagi feel annoyed. 

“This is a Christmas party. Don’t take out your issues on us.”

“My issues? You're the one talking about boyfriends with young and impressionable children.”

She made sure he saw her eyes roll as she passed him. “Yeah, my degree in education didn’t prepare me at all for talking to kids about such things.”

“You shouldn’t be talking to them at all about it since it’s not true.”

Spinning on her heel, she glared at him and he glared back. “What do you know? Huh? How dare you say it’s not true!”

“If it’s true then why didn’t you say anything about it last week?!”

Glancing around, she found them alone. Everyone else was already at the table or making their plates in the kitchen, where the two of them should be. “Like we tell one another everything at those stupid lunches!”

“I told you about Saori!”

How much of her cringe at the mention of his girlfriend he caught, she didn’t know. But she thought it best to move on quickly from it before it became an issue. “You told us you were bringing her to this only so Makoto would make enough food. It’s not like you told us to share anything.”

“Are you going to tell the family tonight?!”

He had his arms folded across his chest but she could still see him shaking a little. “Why does it matter?? And why do you care?! Shingo and Toki are my brothers, not you!!”

Even with the reminder, she was sure he would never see her as anything more than that little girl who’s pigtails he used to tie to the chair. No matter what she did, how she grew and changed, she would never be free of him unless she broke free herself.

Tagging...

@master-ray5​ @sailorsilverladybug​ @knowall7k​ @astraearose93​ @fandomartlover​ @egosolivagant​ @fawn-eyed-girl​ @neutronstarchild​ @ruddcatha​ @sapphirestarxx​ @orientaldancegirl222​

[oops-prow-did-it-again]

Pokémon Retold: Ultra Sun - Chapter 12 (Witch Hunt)

Pokémon Retold: Ultra Sun on FFN

Pokémon Retold: Ultra Sun on AO3

Pokémon Retold (series) on AO3

Child of Unova on AO3

Consider tipping/supporting/commissioning me on Patreon? :3

Heeey look I'm alive, though I'm gonna go dark for those 2 weeks after tomorrow, I'm sorryy

In other news, if you read my Black and Black 2 stories, you'll maybe remember that there was a dude named Taven in them. As I mentioned before, Taven is actually an OC from a friend of mine, ClumsyReaper. They've been writing out Taven's story in more detail over on Archive of Our Own under the title 'Child of Unova,' though their penname is also ClumsyReaper over there. Feel free to give it a read! Taven's story seems like it's going to take a more nuanced look on Pokemon White's version of events by focusing on worldbuilding more so than the events of the game, such as how the gym leaders and League function.

Saying that to say, my version of Taven is set in a different universe from his version - so you'll notice some key differences between them if you do check it out. You'll also notice some other cool parallels between his world and mine, too, such as the existence of certain characters. Anyway, it's not that long and you should check it out :)

——————

Waiting alone outside of the Verdant Cavern was far from comfortable for Lillie. She occasionally checked on Nebby in her bag, bouncing her leg impatiently as she waited for Elio, Hau, and Selene to finish with their trial (much to Nebby's vocal displeasure). Captain Ilima's trial was simple enough, not to mention Verdant Cavern wasn't that large, so she hoped that meant they would be done soon… Surveying the route just beyond the entrance to it, she could just make out the edge of a Pokémon Center, but otherwise, it was lush, grassy path with the odd berry tree dotting the landscape. She knew the cliff beyond the Pokémon Center overlooked the sea, but the scent of saltwater on the lively breeze was lost on her, as she had long since grown accustomed to it.

Of course, nothing seemed capable of going right for her, and so within just a few minutes, a familiar duo of Skull members crested the shallow hill leading to Verdant Cavern's entrance. She froze, and it seemed they initially intended to just keep walking, but one spotted her out the corner of his eye and gestured with a nod of his head in her direction. His buddy scoffed and rolled his shoulders, then started to walk away, as if totally uninterested in a confrontation with her. Lillie couldn't help but smirk, wondering if he had been the one she had sprayed… Truthfully, she didn't remember what he had looked like, not that there was really much information to go off, considering the masks and hats they wore. Ultimately, the first of the duo snatched his friend by the shoulder, steering him in her direction as he trotted over to her.

"What do you want?" Lillie icily asked once they were within earshot, her muscles taut and poised to act on a moment's notice. Although she personally just found the Skull grunts irritating on the worst of days, she had to brace herself in case they decided to exact some revenge for her actions the day before. She tried hard not to let perceptions blind her to what people were capable of. She had learned quite a while ago people could surprise one in the worst of ways.

Based on the first's voice, they were, in fact, the same grunts she had accosted the day before. "Ay, homie," the first joked upon his approach, "you in a better mood today?"

The other hung back decisively, mutinously shooting glares between his friend and Lillie. She had to admit, that made her smile some, a sinisterly fake smile. That was because they were amusing her, but truthfully, she didn't know why they had even taken such a shine to her the day before. Sure, she looked familiar to 'someone they had taken in,' but even then, what would they care? That was what put her so on edge about their approach the day before, and it was still bothering her then. Her smile wasn't the only fakeness going on. Indeed, she was certain their friendliness was as false as it came. It had to be.

"Yeah, I'm feeling better today," she taunted him. With a voice dripping in degrading sarcasm, she musingly asked, "Why? Are you boys not finished with little ole' me yet~?" At least most of the time, the Skull Gang seemed rather harmless. It was only their leader, Guzma, Lillie had heard one needed to be worried about. It wasn't like they knew about Nebby, and otherwise she wasn't packing any pokémon, so she wasn't fearing any thievery like the grunts were known to do. Of course, she didn't let that soften her guard; it was just all she could do to keep a lid on her nerves. She wouldn't hesitate to spray them both down or bolt into the Verdant Cavern for cover if need be, sacred trial ground be damned. Oh, she thought she was clever for already thinking ways out of her predicament before anything had even happened.

The first opened his mouth like he wanted to jeer at her again, but he and his friend abruptly tensed and then whipped their heads to look over their shoulders. "You see that?" he asked his friend in Alolan, sounding so different from the jesting tone he'd used seconds ago.

"See what? I heard somethin', but…"

"Look, see that bush? The hell was that?"

They both lowered their knees slightly, bent in a way that suggested they were ready to run, too. Their unease was contagious, as Lillie slowly slunk off her rock and craned her neck to look over their shoulders, feeling an almost primal need to group with the Skull men. Strength in numbers and all of that. For a breathless second, she saw nothing out of the ordinary, but just as she went to return to her rock and snidely call them a couple of scared Meowth, a horrifyingly familiar figure took shape inches away from the Skull grunts.

A gleaming, silver and navy suit that hid a surly man's expression beneath a set of opaque goggles materialized, gazing firmly at Lillie, and the two Skull grunts wasted no time in fleeing the scene, shouting to each other in panicked Alolan. Yet, just before vanishing over the hill, one of them paused to peer over his shoulder at her. His blue eyes were wide and fearful, but in the end, he jerked his head from side to side and bolted after his friend. Even as she locked up in terror, Lillie couldn't blame them for their cowardice. This wasn't their battle, and for people that could regularly be assaulted for daring to show their faces outside of Po Town, it wasn't like they didn't have reason to fear the man in his otherworldly getup… Still, she had to wonder why he had bothered to stop and look back at her at all…

Shaking her head vigorously to refocus her attention on the suited man ahead of her, Lillie narrowed her eyes at him. She recognized him right away, as well as his colleague who poked her head out from behind him. They were the same two people that had tried to assist the various Aether Foundation employees in capturing her during her original escape with Nebby. They were just as terrifying as she remembered, just as mysterious… and how on Earth had they just appeared like that from nowhere?!

"Did we scare them off, Dulse?" Zossie asked quizzically. Before Dulse had a chance to respond to her, she pouted and whined, "Aw, I don't mean to scare anybody!"

"Zossie, focus!" Dulse hissed at her, though he was staring squarely at Lillie. "Lillie Rae Aether, we need to discuss something with you immediately. We have wasted enough time trying to locate you on these islands through trial and error in pinpointing Cosmog's signature. We have no more time to waste."

Lillie took a step backward, chancing a rapid glance to the Verdant Cavern's entrance behind her. When she looked back on Dulse and Zossie, she found they had fanned out in front of her; Zossie, with her arms clasped deceivingly politely behind her back, smiled uncertainly, while Dulse had his arms planted firmly at his sides, what little she could see of his expression blank. Not that Lillie paid much mind to their body language, as she was searching for a way out of this confrontation with them. She didn't know what they were, what they wanted with Cosmog or the Aether Foundation, but she knew they were bad news. Her options then had dwindled down to just one: flee into the sacred Verdant Cavern.

"I can see you are distressed," Dulse commented flatly. The way his mouth move made Lillie falter for a moment. She had thought before that the pale, blue over their faces had been a bodysuit, but as she watched him speak… She realized that she could see into his mouth. Gaping in horror, she realized the pale blueness was just their skin. She whipped her gaze to Zossie, noticing she was the same. "Lillie Rae Aether, we do not wish any harm upon you. Cosmog is a potential harbinger of destruction to your world and ours, and so we must—"

"Shut up!" Lillie spat, bristling in almost feral fear. "I don't care! I don't care about what you or what my mother wants!" She was dimly aware of the way Zossie lunged forward to try to grab her bag as she whirled around to dart into the Verdant Cavern, running as fast as her feet would carry her. She heard Nebby mewl pathetically from within her bag as it bounced against her hip, but she didn't have the luxury of being kind to him in that moment.

Inside the cavern, she noticed that shafts of light occasionally penetrated the murkiness through holes in the ceiling, and that dens and fallen logs dotted the upward incline of the mossy, overgrown cave. It smelled musty, like a mix of saltwater and grass, and the floor was damp underfoot. Glancing fervently around to try to spot Elio, Hau, and Selene, she cursed under her breath when she heard the distant cry of a Gumshoos and deduced that they must have already descended into the Totem Gumshoos' den. Deciding that a hollowed-out cove beneath a fallen log would have to do, she scurried inside and wrenched open her bag. She immediately grabbed Nebby, holding him down, as she thrashed the rest of her bag's contents, letting out a puff of relieved air when she found her heavy duty repel spray. It was a special blend, made specifically by the Aether Foundation, that staved off wild pokémon no matter what pokémon the person was using. Part of their humanities initiative by making the world a safer place for non-trainers, she thought bitterly. It was a nice thought, but the knowledge that Aether had created it and would get credit for the patent was outright depressing, considering all she knew about them.

Squashing down her misgivings about it, she sprayed the repel, and apologetically frowned at Nebby as he recoiled from her grasp, flaring his little arms. "I'm sorry, I know, it smells bad and you really don't deserve this…" she mouthed at him, capping her spray, stuffing it in the bag, then zipping it shut once more. Sighing to herself, she realized she was trembling in fright, leaning her head back against the stony wall behind her. Closing her eyes and biting her lower lip, fighting off the nauseating wave of fear and despair, she whispered, "Neither of us deserve this…"

She hoped the rotten log in front of her would protect her from Dulse and Zossie's prying eyes.

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

"Good Arceus on a stick, why is it so big and so mean?" Elio blustered as he backpedaled away from the oversized, glowing Gumshoos hissing at him and his Litten. They had been fighting it for quite a bit at that point, and it was still just as wily and furious as ever. Despite Elio's obvious uncertainty, his Litten looked completely unfazed and, in fact, invigorated by the opponent ahead of it. The dark fur of its back was puffed up and its eyes blazed intensely as it yowled back at the Gumshoos, undaunted. In fact, a faint red glow surrounded the Litten, bringing some light into the shadowy den. There were a few shafts of light coming from the roof to light up the mossy stone that surrounded them, but it was much, much darker there than it had been in the rest of the Verdant Cavern… "Uh… Litten, Ember… on the… Gumshoos, right?"

Hau was more reserved, ordering Popper to attack in Alolan. Selene found she couldn't quite make out where the words began or ended in his native tongue, due to the way he spoke so fluidly, not to mention how it sounded like he was almost… singing, with the melodic way the words rolled off his tongue. Still, it was obvious what he was asking Popper to do based on the attacks that it issued. This time, a simple Water Gun, based on the jet of water Popper blasted the Gumshoos with. After the Gumshoos reeled from the hit and furiously snapped its teeth after Popper in retaliation, Hau offered some crooning words of encouragement to his partner, pumping a fist excitedly. He almost acted like an entirely different person in battle.

Selene, on the other hand, was scrambling to try to find out what moves her Rowlet could use on her Rotom Dex. She knew Leafage was an option, but was there anything else it could use that would be useful? As she withdrew the device from her pocket, though, it wriggled free of her grasp and a robotic voice asked her what she wanted to know, the round, blue eyes of the Rotom blinking at her innocently. "What else can my Rowlet use?" Selene asked breathlessly, irritated that she couldn't just scroll through the device normally. Somehow, even though the Rotom Dex started spouting off move names at her, it felt as if it were slower. Elio's Litten bought her some time by firing off the Ember it had been building in its throat.

Although she had enjoyed her battle with Hau in Iki Town, she had to admit, facing this angry Gumshoos, easily twice her size and pulsing with an otherworldly glow, she was feeling anything but joy. It had dawned on her, as the battle progressed, and as the Gumshoos bellowed in a way that shook the walls and floor, that they had essentially loped their way into a wild pokémon's den unsure if they could actually defeat it or not. What would happen if they failed? Sure, Captain Ilima had said that, traditionally, challengers would have to wait a day to face the trial again, but why was that? Selene had thought before it was to give the pokémon in the trial a chance to rest, but now she was wondering if it was instead to ensure the challengers were okay and able to face the trial again… Her eyes locked onto the Gumshoos' sharp, jagged teeth protruding from its jaws, and she swallowed hard in the beginnings of a panic. How on Earth could anyone have faced this thing alone? she thought desperately. After a point, she just growled and shook her head, waving the Rotom Dex off, "Ugh, Rowlet, just use Leafage on it!"

As her Rowlet dove off her head and at the Gumshoos, its body cloaking in leaves and tendrils, a Yungoos scurried from the shadows around the edge of the den. Hau had Popper attack it so that Rowlet was uninterrupted, but when Rowlet did barrel into the Gumshoos, he bounced off hilariously like a soccer ball. Flailing his wings annoyedly, he caught himself before he hit the ground, all the while, the Gumshoos did little more than shake its head in irritation.

"Right," Selene almost laughed to herself, "I forgot that Rowlet doesn't seem all that attack-oriented…" Floundering for what to do next, she almost slumped in relief when the Gumshoos suddenly stood to its back legs and stepped a few paces back, twitching its head as if trying to hear something in the distance. The Yungoos at its side hissed and abruptly dove into a crevice in the rocks surrounding them, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

"Move!" Hau exclaimed suddenly, snatching Popper in his arms, and jumping to the far right of the cavern. Selene and Elio exchanged a bewildered look, and then followed, waving their arms for their Litten and Rowlet to come with. Almost as soon as they retreated, the Gumshoos crashed forward on all fours with a hefty thud against the floor, and scurried out of its den, down the hill that led back toward the main passage of the Verdant Cavern.

There was a short stretch of silence before Elio finally fractured it. "So, uh… what just happened? Did we win?" He and Selene both turned quizzical expressions on Hau. Elio's Litten hissed after the Gumshoos, but didn't give chase, while Selene's Rowlet reclaimed his throne atop her head and started to preen himself. She just rolled her eyes at him.

"What am I going to do with you?" Selene teasingly asked her Rowlet in Kantonian, scratching his side gingerly.

Focusing back on Hau, disturbed was the only way Selene could describe his face as he peered unblinkingly after where the Gumshoos had gone. Without answering them, he clutched Popper a little more tightly to his chest and then carefully picked his way forward, stepping lightly, like how Selene had seen pokémon in nature documentaries do when they were listening for a threat. It jarred her, almost, to see how instinctive his reaction and movements were… how practiced they were. Unnerved, she crept after him and whispered at last, "Hau…? What's going on…?"

He flinched and shushed her, then pressed forward some more before his shoulders slacked. "Sorry," he puffed, "Totem…" Frustrated, he snapped his fingers and couldn't seem to find the words to explain what he wanted to say. Suddenly, Selene's Rotom Dex zipped ahead of her and hovered between her and Hau.

"I can help!" it buzzed in a monotone statement, waving its little arms. "Hau! Just speak in Alolan, and then I'll translate!"

"You can do that?" Selene asked dubiously. "How…?" Then, she paused. Her mouth fell open. "Wait, wait, wait a second, are you just—did you just—are you speaking to me? Like, in my language, like you understand me?"

"You pick up a lot as a digital Ghost-type in this place," her Rotom retorted in an eerily playful tone. "And this thing's speaker lets me speak! I guess that's why it has that name…"

"I've never heard of Rotom talking even when they take over things that have speakers," Elio hoarsely muttered, barely above a whisper, reflecting Selene's shock. "So, what—"

"Well, who wants to yap to Kanto-Johto people that are gonna experiment on me for days?" Rotom taunted. "Anyway," the floating device whirled around to face Hau, "go on! What's going on with the Totem? Don't be shy! You look like you've seen a ghost!" Her Rotom then issued a few bzzrts! that sounded uncomfortably like laughter. Selene didn't know whether to be amazed at how intelligent the Rotom seemed to truly be, or whether to be horrified at learning it was possibly even more intelligent than her or any other human.

Hau suspiciously narrowed his eyes at the Rotom Dex, but begrudgingly started to speak, anyway. Once he was done, he stroked Popper's head and tensed even more when the Rotom Dex repeated his words in perfect Galarish. Selene might have thought his reaction was amusing if she didn't feel like reacting the same way.

"Totems only flee battles when their trial site needs guarding, so that means someone that shouldn't be within it is inside, or worse, the trial site is being damaged in some way!" With another bzzrt!, the Rotom Dex hovered close to Selene. "The Totem will only return to battle after it's protected the trial site!"

"What would mess with a trial site? Or… who?" Elio sounded much more concerned than Selene had expected. She had to stop from groaning as she soon figured out why. "I mean, Lillie was out there… Would Lillie coming inside do it? Why would she go inside, though?" He abruptly darted ahead of Hau (much to his chagrin), and worriedly glanced between him and Selene. "Would the Gumshoos hurt her if she went inside?"

Hau bit his lower lip and then looked down. After he mumbled something, Selene's Rotom Dex piped in with, "I don't know, he said! Zzzzrt!"

"Yeah, screw that. Something's wrong," Elio hissed. "C'mon, Macho, let's go!" With a wave at his Litten, he bounded down the slope leading back into Verdant Cavern's main passage. His Litten's fur fluffed out all over again and it raced after him.

"Macho?" Hau echoed the nickname. "What that mean?"

"Not important right now," Selene answered, perhaps more abrasively than she should have, but she was too busy scrambling after her brother to think too hard about how she spoke to Hau right then (though she had certainly internally rolled her eyes at the nickname since it seemed based on Lillie's taunting names that she would call Elio, and considering he hadn't used it yet in the battle, he must have just decided on the name). Totem or trial site or not, she was not about to let her brother throw himself at that behemoth of a Gumshoos on his own. Her Rowlet took flight once she started to run and flew at her side, flapping tiny, adorable wings rapidly to keep up with her as she skidded down the slope.

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

How It Goes - Chapter 2 (End)

Here at last the second chapter! This one is the same story, but it deals with the story from Hizashi and Shouta's point of view - with some new scenes I think you guys will really like.

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Summary: Despite having lived with Aizawa Shouta and Yamada Hizashi for the past couple of months, Shinsou Hitoshi still found himself watching his steps and being careful not to do anything to ruin the miracle that had found him adopted by the two people he looked up to above all others. When he finally does slip up and get in trouble, he finds himself on edge and waiting for the real punishment to come – a grounding couldn’t be as simple as being banned from television and video games and coming straight home after school, right? There had to be more to it than that, he just… needed to wait until they told him what that was.

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Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia    

Relationship: Shinsou Hitoshi & Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Shinsou Hitoshi & Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic/Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead

Characters: Shinsou Hitoshi, Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead

Rating: Teen Audiences

Word Count: 10,021

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               Check out my writing commission information here!                      Pledge to my Patreon to get exclusive content!

                        Read and follow the story on AO3!

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                                           <<First Chapter>>

                                              Chapter Two

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Between the constant vibration of his phone alarm, the non-stop purring vibrations of both their cats, and the morning sunlight that fell just so in an attempt to blind him even with his eyes closed, Yamada-Aizawa Hizashi finally admitted defeat with a soft groan as he opened his eyes. He then immediately closed them as a yawn overtook his body and tried to drag him back under.

Before he could give in to the temptation, the arm thrown over his side twitched and the chest Hizashi had been peacefully asleep on rumbled with a small, short vibration. Hizashi, still half-asleep, managed to grumble out a soundless, “Stop laughing at me.” He then buried closer to the chest, snuggling into the warm fabric and even warmer man it belonged to.

When there was only another vibration characteristic of his husband’s short, sharp laughs, Hizashi pouted and pushed himself up to at least be sitting, squinting down at what he knew would have been a smile if he could properly see it. “You’re so mean to your husband, Shouta.”

There was shifting underneath him, Hizashi dozing off even just sitting up before he felt his glasses gently being slipped into their proper place. A couple of fuzzy blinks and Hizashi watched as Shouta, rumpled and still looking drowsy, used his hands to sign out a lethargic, ‘You like it when I’m mean.’ 

Hizashi didn’t even try to stop his bark of laughter, catching Shouta’s hands with his own before leaning in to give him a sweet, lingering kiss that as all too easy to get wrapped up in. It was made even easier when Shouta wrapped an arm around him and dragged him back down and under the covers.

“Hey, some of us actually like to wake up in the mornings,” Hizashi complained, not needing his hearing aids to know Shouta was calling him out for his lie while giving him a judgmental look. He did as he always did, however, and pretended he didn’t know a thing of what the man was saying. “Sorry. I’m deaf.”

Shouta rolled his eyes and the next thing Hizashi knew he was laughing from under a blanket that had been dragged over his head. It took a bit of struggle before he finally managed to escape, whining softly when he was only dragged back in close to Shouta. It would have been far too easy to fall back asleep for another hour or two – which was no doubt Shouta’s plan.

Turning in the hold to argue his way to freedom, Hizashi paused. He then narrowed his eyes and watched Shouta blink tiredly down at him. Moving his arms to free his hands enough to sign, Hizashi signed out a quick, ‘You know, you look very exhausted for someone who went to bed early last night.’

The guilty expression was one he would have been able to make out even without his glasses, Hizashi mused to himself. Settling back, he gave Shouta a few minutes to try and think of a lie, watching the man calmly blink up at him in what was suppressed panic. Finally, though, he signed out a quick, ‘Weird dreams?’

Trying to stifle what was probably more laughter, Hizashi shook his head and honestly, his husband. ‘You got caught up trying to finish paperwork, didn’t you?’

‘No,’ Shouta signed, guilty expression never wavering. ‘I was grading.’ Hizashi wasn’t sure what was cuter; the fact Shouta never changed, or the fact that he was pouting.

Shaking his head, Hizashi signed out a quick, ‘Alright, alright. You get another hour, but I’m going to start on breakfast. Any requests?’ 

‘Chef’s choice,’ Shouta signed, hands moving to cup the back of Hizashi’s neck and drag him back into a soft, lazy sort of kiss that Hizashi would never get tired of. It was a kiss that would always remind him of lazy mornings, soft touches, and the knowledge that there would be hundreds more. He then realized it was a trap.

“Oh, no! You’re not winning that easily!” Hizashi managed to drag himself away from the kiss and out of bed, ignoring Shouta’s laughter. “Your hated of mornings will never win!”

Watching Shouta snort and roll back over to go to sleep, Hizashi shook his head and finally moved to slip off into the bathroom to take a quick shower, make sure his hearing aids were fully charged, and get himself together for the day. 

It was a routine that was years old, but with one new addition that Hizashi delighted in as he did every morning. 

The door that used to belong to the guest bedroom was now a door Hizashi opened carefully and quietly, peeking in not to see a plain bed and an empty desk and set of drawers, but a room that was stuffed with pillows, blankets, scattered homework, and even more scattered pieces of clothing and hero merch that was often hidden under dark corners. 

There, in the center of the bed, though, was their adopted son Shinsou Hitoshi, dead asleep in a messy nest of pillows and blankets with one arm thrown over the edge of the bed, another thrown over his eyes, and his hair an utter and complete wreck. Hizashi did nothing whatsoever to hide his silly grin as he shut the door carefully, taking a moment to revel in the fact that they had a son. 

It took a few moments before he pulled it together and managed to start on breakfast, but soon enough Hizashi had everything spread out along the counters and ready before he was leaning out of the kitchen to shout out, “Breakfast time!” 

Thankfully, unlike Shouta, Hitoshi actually came when called the first time, Hizashi happily greeting the kid with a tight hug as soon as he came into view - he also tried to smooth some of his hair down, but he wasn’t sure how successful he was in that one. If the kid’s hair was anything like Shouta’s, it was a losing battle on Hizashi’s part. “Morning, ‘Toshi!”

“Morning,” Hitoshi said softly, leaning forward to return the hug, and, really, Hizashi wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from hugging the kid even tighter if he wanted to. Of course, Hitoshi, because he was also Shouta’s kid, gave a soft snort when he asked, “Do I have to worry about eating eggshells this time?”

“Hey! That was one time!” Hizashi pulled back just enough to pout at him, trying not to break the illusion by beaming at how Hitoshi looked like he was doing his best to not burst into laughter. “I was just… a little sleepy.”

“Hey, we both told you to remember to take your hearing aids out that night since construction was going on to repair the street,” Hitoshi shrugged, tired eyes and sleepy, amused smile so much like Shouta’s. It was all Hizashi could do to fake a loud whine, bringing back Hitoshi into another hug because god, this kid was most definitely theirs. 

“Okay, okay,” Hitoshi sighed, Hizashi hearing the faint edges of suppressed laughter. It was so different from when he had first started living with them months ago and could barely even work up a smile. “I’m sorry. Your cooking is amazing.” 

“Hell yeah it is!” Hizashi finally laughed, letting Hitoshi go and making one last attempt to fix the kid’s hair before he was pushing him towards the kitchen to eat breakfast. “Now-” Breakfast. It was breakfast and Shouta hadn’t come down yet. 

Glancing around the room just to make sure Shouta hadn’t snuck his way in while he was greeting Hitoshi, Hizashi frowned and oh, that little… Behind him, Hitoshi gave a snort of laughter, along with a quiet, “He went back to bed, I think.” He knew it. 

“Of course he did,” Hizashi huffed, crossing his arms for a moment before cheering back up because, well, he would just have to wake Shouta up himself, if that was the case. “Go ahead and start eating, kid. I’ll make sure Shouta joins us for breakfast.” 

Hardly a minute and Hizashi was up the stairs and in front of their bedroom door, pushing it open as slowly and quietly as he could before grinning at seeing Shouta curled up under the covers. It was unlikely that he had actually fallen back asleep and Hizashi knew for a fact that, since the man hadn’t had patrol last night and had only done grading, he was being lazy rather than sleepy. It was unforgivable when that meant missing family breakfast time. 

Thankful for his pro hero training, Hizashi crept closer as silently as he could, scanning the room quickly. Both of their cats he had seen downstairs and already eating their own breakfast, so that meant he only had to worry about dodging one person instead of one person and two cats. Nodding to himself, Hizashi let go of his control on his quirk just a hair before shouting out a cheerful, “Good morning, Shou-chan!” 

Hizashi had barely finished before he was sidestepping Shouta’s quick attack after his launch from the bed. He then had to throw an arm up to block the pillow flying at his face, snorting at the ‘attack.’ His amusement quickly faded for a yelp when familiar white bands shot out, wrapping around him and pinning his legs together and his arms to his body. A quick twist and Hizashi was on the floor, rather painlessly, he noted, with Shouta sitting on top of him with a slight smirk, excess bands wrapped loosely around his neck.

Hizashi had no qualms about pouting and whining and squirming around underneath him to try and be as annoying as possible. “Shouta! Weapons are cheating you promised you would stop cheating!” 

“Then stop using your quirk and I wouldn’t have to do this,” Shouta shrugged, the bands around Hizashi loosening as Shouta gave a lazy yawn and leaned back. “Is breakfast done?”

“Yup! And as cute as you look when asleep, there’s no missing out on family breakfast time,” Hizashi lectured, deciding his lecture lost some impact when he was still tied up on the ground. Shouta, however, didn’t seem to be in any rush to let him up.

Deciding that was just fine, Hizashi gave a few short tenses and wiggles of his body to test the hold. There was a reason, after all, that only Hizashi had sparred against Shouta by the time they were in their third year of U.A.

A sharp wiggle in just the right way had his arms free, Hizashi dragging Shouta down into a tight hug that had the man laughing. Hizashi gave a soft hum at the sound, turning just so to press an equally soft kiss to Shouta’s cheek, hands settling on the man’s lower back. “No more sleeping. It’s a school day, anyways.”

Shouta sighed, shifting and turning until he caught Hizashi’s lips in a soft kiss before finally standing up, heading for the bedroom door. Hizashi didn’t let him even touch the handle before he was up and grabbing Shouta’s arm, stepping out of the bundle of binding cloth on the floor and pulling Shouta towards the bathroom. “Nope! Meds first!” 

The dirty look he was given was one Hizashi was very used to, deciding he would deal with whatever revenge Shouta came up with later. Someone had to make sure his idiot took his medicine, after all.

It was another few minutes before they made it back downstairs, but soon enough they were all seated at the table and eating properly, Hizashi marveling once again at the fact that they had a kid. 

It may have been months since the official adoption, but that didn’t mean Hizashi was ever going to stop feeling gleeful about it - or that Shouta would ever stop teasing him about it. Honestly, how was Hizashi not supposed to be gleeful every time Hitoshi welcomed their little touches and hugs without flinching away like he used to do? 

And, yes, Hizashi might have indulged by making Hitoshi’s favorite foods a little too often, or happily driving him to school with him and Shouta every morning he could, but the way he saw it, he was just making up for all the good the kid could have had in life.

“Honestly,” Shouta sighed, giving a look to Hizashi over the roof of their car. His look was one that probably had to do with the fact Hizashi was still half-watching Hitoshi to make sure he got into the school safely – nevermind the fact that he was as safe as possible when they were essentially locked onto the U.A. campus once they passed the gates. There was also the fact that they were in the teacher’s parking lot, too, which made it even more safe if anything were to happen. “You look at him like he’s your firstborn.” 

“Oh?” Hizashi finally shut his door and made sure the car was locked before giving his full attention to Shouta. “This coming from the one who brought home adoption papers one day out of nowhere.” A bit of an exaggeration, granted, but not much one of one.

Shouta, on his part, gave him a long, slow blink, staring at him blankly before turning away and walking towards the school. Hizashi couldn’t help but to beam because that meant he won. It was a nice feeling, overall. 

It was especially nice when Hizashi realized it would be a day like all the ones before it where he would get to return home to his family and relax with everything being so right. 

Except Hitoshi hadn’t come home.

It had been normal enough to not see the kid when they first got home. Their schedules after school didn’t always line up and sometimes Hitoshi liked to wander the neighborhood, get in an extra workout back at U.A., or even just visit their local cat cafe because he was worse than Shouta ever had been. 

Hitoshi not answering his texts or calls, too, was rather normal. It was something Hizashi was working on training Hitoshi out of, but, well… It wasn’t hard to see that Hitoshi hadn’t exactly had a stable support system growing up. The kid left his phone on silent or vibrate more than he should - probably no doubt used to no one attempting to get into contact with him. 

It was when dinner had come and gone, and Hitoshi still wasn’t home or answering any calls or texts, that Hizashi felt himself start to spiral down into his panic. It was only his rapid pacing up and down the living room floor that kept him from completely losing it and running outside to search the entirety of Japan.

“And he hasn’t answered any of your texts, either? Are we sure he didn’t tell one of us something or leave us a note anywhere?” Hizashi barely paid attention to Shouta’s quiet shake of his head, instead checking his phone again. There were no new messages since his last check and the last message from Hitoshi was a string of emojis in response to some cat video Hizashi had sent him that he could no longer remember because his kid was missing. 

Hizashi barely realized he was swearing under his breath until he came close to either throwing his phone or punching the wall out of mounting frustration because his kid was gone and he was just standing there. “It’s almost midnight! What if something happened to him and we’re just sitting here!”

It was only years of training that kept Hizashi from activating his quirk as he gave a short, frustrated scream, “There was a villain attack on one of the trains today! What if he’s hurt and in the hospital, or at the police station with a broken phone, or- God, we’re such awful fucking parents! I should have driven him home after school! I saw him leaving through the gates today I should have just followed him and dragged him into the car or something!”

Sucking in another deep breath to keep going, Hizashi froze in his spot and felt his heart skip a beat. He was still aware enough to know he was spiraling into his panic, but he was also aware enough to know that Shouta wasn’t trying to stop him. 

A quick glance to the couch, where Shouta had sat himself hours ago, showed that the man was staring blankly at his phone, a tremor in his shoulders making Hizashi absolutely certain that he would never breathe again. If Shouta was panicking… Oh, God, if Shouta was panicking then that meant their kid was dead-!

The soft sound of the front door opening and closing had Hizashi’s thoughts rapidly disappearing into a blank, sudden silence. Whipping around showed that Hitoshi, tired and alive and not at all hurt was shuffling in place and kicking his shoes off, stumbling against the wall in what was clear exhaustion. 

Hitoshi was okay. He wasn’t hurt, he was alive, he was clearly exhausted, but he was alive and safe and that was good. That was so good because that meant Hizashi wouldn’t feel one bit bad about scolding him because he had been worried sick. 

“I’m home,” Hitoshi mumbled softly, almost as if talking to himself or repeating the phrase on instinct. On any other day it would have been wonderful to know that Hitoshi felt so naturally at home with them, but, well.

Hizashi wasn’t about to let his mushy feelings ruin the fact he needed to impress upon Hitoshi just how serious his running off and not contacting them had been. Thankfully, he had Shouta, who had already moved to stand beside him.

“Welcome home,” Shouta said softly, Hizashi so clearly hearing between the words just how sick with worry Shouta had been himself. The man had probably been having USJ flashbacks for hours.

Hitoshi looked at them with wide eyes and Hizashi didn’t even last a second before he finally asked the question that had been running through his mind for hours, “Where have you been?!” With the question out, Hizashi felt his worry come back full force, along with the fear that if one thing had been different, it was possible that Hitoshi might not have come home. 

“You’ve been gone for hours and we had no idea where you were!” Not coming home for an extra hour or two, that was something Hizashi understood! He himself had been the type to stay out late, but staying out until midnight with no explanation or even a text? “You could have been dead in a villain attack and we would have no idea!” 

There had been that attack on the train and three people had been sent to the hospital and it was a train that Hitoshi would sometimes ride and he could have been hurt. “Hitoshi you could have been- Been killed or kidnapped and-” And it would have been their fault because they were his parents. “-we would have had no fucking idea!”

There was a moment of silence in the room, Hizashi starting to feel guilty for no doubt raising his voice, but god. He had been so scared. He thought he was ready for all the challenges involved in being the parent to a teenager, but… He had never thought he could be so scared. Being a pro hero had nothing on being a parent.

“I-” Hitoshi stuttered over his words, something about his tone off in a way that Hizashi, still fighting his panic and worry, couldn’t quite puzzle out. “I had to go to Tochigi to pick something up, and then Saitama to-” 

“You were where?!” Saitama- Tochigi-! That was multiple prefectures away! That was hours away! “You can’t just- You can’t just disappear to another prefecture without telling us, Hitoshi!” If something had happened- If Hitoshi had called or texted them for help it would have taken far too long to get there. God, his kid had been in Tochigi and Hizashi hadn’t even known. “You can’t do that!”

He knew Hitoshi had been through a rough childhood, but that was no excuse- He wasn’t an adult! He may have thought he was invincible, but he was still just a teenager. He didn’t… “I understand.” Hitoshi’s expression was almost blank, his voice soft and even and did he understand?

“Do you?” God, fucking bless Shouta for being a mind reader. The man still sounded and looked as shaken as Hizashi felt - no doubt Shouta was blaming himself even worse than Hizashi was. He had always been protective of the kids in his care, and this incident had probably hit too close to home. “We’re not done talking about this, but you are grounded.” 

Gathering himself together, Hizashi sighed, trying to drown out his anger at himself and keep his voice reasonably calm as he looked back to Hitoshi, “One week. No friends over, no television or video games, and straight home after school - and I do mean straight home.” 

Watching the kid still staring at him, as if waiting to hear the rest of it, Hizashi clenched his fists for a brief moment, wishing he could throw one at whoever had hurt their kid so badly in the past. It wasn’t exactly hard to guess some of what Hitoshi had gone through when in the system. “Go to bed, Hitoshi. You have school in the morning.”

It wasn’t until Hitoshi was firmly out of sight and Hizashi heard the sound of the kid’s door closing that he shuffled over to the living room couch and collapsed face-first. If he was lucky, he might even suffocate. It would at least stop him from feeling the pain that came from having to ground their kid for the first time. There was also the fact he was still recovering from fully believing their kid had died.

Groaning when he felt the couch dip next to him, Hizashi relaxed at the hand that slid through his hair even as he managed a mumbled, “Do you think we were too hard on him?”

It wasn’t like he and Shouta hadn’t discussed what to do if they had ever had to ground the kid. Hitoshi may have been laidback, easygoing, and had an aversion to breaking rules, but, well, he was a teenager. Hizashi had been prepared for it, he had just hoped they never would have to ground him. 

“I think he would have a different definition of being ‘too hard,’” Shouta finally replied, Hizashi groaning even louder because that was a worse thought - and no doubt a true one. Hizashi had been a part of the system himself when young, and although he hadn’t been in it for as long as Hitoshi, he worked with kids daily. He knew what it was when a kid flinched away like Hitoshi did. 

Shouta’s sigh brought Hizashi back to the present, the hand running through his hair gently moving to instead cup the back of his neck before Shouta said a soft, “Relax, Sunshine. He’s safe.” Yeah. There was at least that much.

“I’m taking that kid’s phone and making it so he’ll never be able to turn the volume down again,” Hizashi decided, Shouta giving a quiet laugh above him.

“He might fight you on that one. He might also be angry at us for a few days, but he needs to learn that this isn’t like his other homes and that we care if he gets hurt doing things like this. If we’re lucky this might teach him to take better care of himself.”

Hizashi managed a quiet laugh, carefully sitting up before slumping down to lean against Shouta, smiling as the man supported his weight at once. “Let’s be honest, Shou,” Hizashi laughed again. “We’re not exactly great at taking care of ourselves either.” 

“Maybe not,” Shouta hummed, lips brushing against Hizashi’s temple. “But that’s why we have each other. And now… he has us.”

Quiet for a moment, Hizashi finally huffed as he shifted and twisted to wrap his arms around Shouta, hugging him tightly. “What the hell, Shouta, we talked about you being sappy, yo! You know I get emotional!”

“That’s why I do it,” Shouta snorted, own arms wrapped tight around Hizashi. “Relax. You can make it up to him by making his favorites for breakfast.” 

“Of course! I’m gonna spoil the crap out of that kid!” Hizashi still felt bad that they had to ground Hitoshi, but, barring some teenage angst, a good night’s sleep and good food would help. 

Besides… Hitoshi was safe and with them. That was all that mattered. 

⁂

Aizawa-Yamada Shouta was used to disciplining teenagers. How could he not be? He worked with students almost every day of his life - students who were dumb teenagers with powerful quirks that they were training to make stronger. It was impossible to be the teacher of a pro-hero school like U.A. without learning the best ways to discipline a teenager and what was most effective. 

Some students responded better to detention, using the time to reflect on what they had done and realize that there had been other solutions. Some responded better to extra chores around the school, the activity tiring them out and making it easier to think through things. There were even a few that responded better to being given extra work or work in leadership positions, which allowed them a chance to become more confident in themselves. 

After so many years and so many students, it was rare that Shouta didn’t know how to get through to a teenager. This time, however, he was firm in the feeling that he had, in Hizashi’s words, ‘fucked up.’

“We fucked up, Shou, we so fucked up!” Hizashi was half-shouting and half-whimpering in his rant, hardly focused on the road at all. It wasn’t exactly reassuring as he was the one driving them. “We didn’t even get a chance to talk to him before he was out the door! He didn’t even eat!” 

Neither of them had gotten the best amount of sleep after they had finally dragged themselves to bed, and after that morning it seemed Hitoshi hadn’t faired much better. It hadn’t been hard to see how the bags under the kid’s eyes were even deeper than normal, and, well, he really was their kid. 

Shouta had little doubt that instead of being angry at them like any other teenager might, he had spiraled into his panic like he and Hizashi both tended to do. It hadn’t exactly been surprising that Hitoshi hadn’t opened his door when Shouta had knocked that morning, but breakfast… 

“He flinched, Shouta!” Hizashi’s dramatics, so easy to pick apart now, showed he was as devastated as Shouta felt. “I went to hug him like I do every morning and he flinched.”

“I know, ‘Zashi,” Shouta sighed, rubbing at his eyes hard enough to sting. The pain didn’t help distract him, his thoughts still centered on that morning. Hizashi had gone to hug the kid and Hitoshi had jerked back like he had been shocked.

It would have been fine if the kid had just been startled due to a lack of sleep, but Hitoshi had flinched back like he was about to be… They had known what kind of home Hitoshi had come from. They knew far too well what the kid had faced through his reports and what he had shared with him, but it never got easier to see it. 

God, Shouta wasn’t sure what had been worse in that moment, either. Hitoshi had flinched away and then near ran to the table as if that would hide his reaction while Hizashi… Hizashi had flinched back like he had been the one who had been hit. 

“Shou, what if we were too hard on him? What if-” Hizashi cut himself off with a sharp yelp, Shouta letting go of the skin he had pinched. 

“Hizashi. We weren’t too hard on him. We grounded him from television and video games he never plays, he spends most of his time in his room anyways, and he’s never brought a friend home since the moment we took him in. It’s not the grounding. I think it was the fact we grounded him at all.” 

Hizashi went silent for a moment, Shouta watching him pull himself together before he gave a soft sigh, “Because in his eyes ‘grounding’ means something a lot worse… This probably brought up some unwelcome memories.” 

“Definitely,” Shouta agreed, looking out the window to see they were almost at the school. “You remember how he was in the beginning. He probably thinks we’re angry at him and that scared him. The best thing we can do is give him time to settle himself down before we approach him. He’ll realize that we’re not angry at him and we can talk it out.” 

“I guess…” Hizashi trailed off, quiet as he pulled them into their usual parking spot before turning the car off, sitting silently. It wasn’t hard to imagine that Hizashi was thinking about his own childhood. “You remember what he said about not trusting adults who work the system?”

“Hard to forget.” Especially with the way the kid had said it with that bitter laugh and that look of fear in his eyes. “Why?” 

Hizashi gripped the steering wheel tightly for a moment, head bowing as he sighed with his whole body. It felt like an eternity before he managed a soft, “He was right. There’s always the occasional outlier, but typically… The system is fucked, Shou, especially with kids with quirks like Hitoshi’s.” 

Shouta hesitated, not sure if Hizashi was referring to the fact Hitoshi had a ‘villainous’ quirk or a voice quirk. He didn’t get to respond, Hizashi already speaking again, “It’s not just crowded homes and the fact the older you get the less likely you are to get adopted. It’s- God, you’ve seen the cases, Shou. There’s so many kids that just disappear out of the system because of the quirk they have.”

“Yeah,” Shouta said softly. “There is.” It was one of the biggest problems in Japan. The rise of quirks had brought with it a rise in power, and quirks were getting stronger all the time. The open cases that involved kidnapped children with powerful quirks were too many for Shouta’s liking.

“Hitoshi is lucky. Even with how shit his life was and how fucking much he went through, it could have been so much worse. A quirk like his…” A quirk like Brainwashing where he could control people? Both sides would want a quirk like that. “And I’m scared of what he hasn’t told us about his time in the system, yet.”

Silent for a long moment, Shouta finally stretched a hand out, smiling when it was gripped tightly after a few seconds. “You want to talk to him about it more?”

“Not now,” Hizashi sighed, tension leaking out of him as he gave Shouta a tired smile. “Like you said, he needs time. But… I think it’s a good idea to talk with him more about his time in the system.”

“We’ll do it soon,” Shouta promised, giving Hizashi’s hand a tug and pulling him over until he could kiss his cheek. “Come on. We have work.” 

“Ugh, we do,” Hizashi groaned, Shouta seeing the edge of a smile on his face. “Remind me why we work at the school we attended as kids?”

“Nemuri.” While Hizashi groaned again, Shouta took a moment to calm himself the rest of the way down. Hitoshi would be fine. They just needed to give him time. 

Except giving him time wasn’t working. 

Shouta hadn’t been too surprised by Hitoshi’s behavior the first day, especially after his and Hizashi’s conversation, but as the days passed it seemed the kid was getting worse. 

Hitoshi was skipping or picking at all of his meals, flinching away every time the two so much as got too close to him, not getting any sleep- He was getting less sleep than Shouta, who had both narcolepsy and insomnia. The bags under Hitoshi’s eyes were starting to get him dirty looks from Recovery Girl and he was hearing more and more about how Hitoshi would pass out in the middle of classes - which was no doubt his body just giving out on him. 

Shouta hadn’t even been able to talk to him about it, either, because Hitoshi had somehow found every single way to dodge him at school. He also went straight to his room when home and while he never locked the door, Shouta had a feeling confronting him in his room, his one safe space in the house, wasn’t going to help matters. 

Hizashi wasn’t doing much better, stressing himself out to the point he was starting to crash in the teacher’s lounge for naps instead of powering through the day with ‘a healthy diet’ and copious amounts of coffee. 

Shouta wasn’t sure which one of them was going to break first at the rate they were all going. He had a feeling, though, that it was going to be him; especially with the look in Nemuri’s eyes as she entered the teacher’s lounge and went straight for them. 

“Oh, Shou-chan!” Ah, childhood nickname. She was pissed. “There you are! I was hoping we could talk for a little bit.” Nemuri ‘smiled’ as she grabbed Snipe’s chair and slid it over before taking a seat. Shouta felt fear start to settle in. “Now, are you going to wake Hizashi up or should I?”

“Neither,” Shouta groaned, leaning back in his own chair that he had pulled over to the couch where Hizashi was passed out and sleeping fitfully. It was a miracle he had made it until lunch with how poorly he had slept the night before. 

“Fine by me,” Nemuri shrugged, crossing her legs daintily after a spin in her chair. “That just means you’ll be on your own during this little interrogation of mine.” For a moment, Shouta couldn’t help but to remember Nemuri’s ‘brutal efficiency’ when it came to their training for interrogations during their U.A. days. “Now, are you sure you don’t want backup for this one?”

“You both are so dramatic,” Shouta tsked, slumping down in his seat before giving a shake of his head. “Let him sleep. He needs it.” Shouta wasn’t the one who worked three jobs, after all. “Where do you want to start?” 

“How about the fact that Hizashi looks like a walking zombie and you look as tired as you did after you recovered from the USJ attack.” Nemuri crossed her arms, looking like she wasn’t going to be letting the conversation go. “Don’t even get me started on Hitoshi. He’s fallen asleep three times in my classes this week.” 

Shouta hummed, doing his best to try and keep eye contact. He had a feeling he failed as he gave a simple shrug. “Dunno. Maybe your classes are just boring.” 

Nemuri didn’t take the bait. She was serious and that typically meant Shouta was fucked. “C’mon, Shou-chan,” Nemuri cajoled, reaching out to lightly kick at his chair, sending him rolling back a couple inches. “I thought we were friends.” 

“That means nothing to me,” Shouta scoffed, watching as Nemuri only looked at him patiently. Deciding that she had the patience to stay there for days, Shouta sighed and got to the heart of the problem. “I’m a horrible parent.”

When Nemuri didn’t interrupt or rush to either agree or deny, Shouta leaned back in his chair and, after a quick glance to make sure no one else was listening, explained the situation. 

It could at least be said that Nemuri knew how to listen when the situation called for it. She let Shouta recount everything; Hitoshi not showing up until past midnight, the way he flinched away from Hizashi the next morning, his lack of sleep and eating, and everything else he could think of. 

When he finally finished, Shouta swallowed whatever was left of his shredded pride and met Nemuri’s gaze. “Nemuri… I could really use some advice, right now.” 

Instead of smug and satisfied, Nemuri blinked. She then leaned back and blinked again. “Are you…” Oh, for god’s sake. “Are you seriously asking me for advice on how to raise a kid?” 

“Yes, but if you’re going to prove useless-” Shouta cut himself off as Nemuri swatted at him, which, fair enough. He supposed she would be a little startled. It wasn’t often that he had reached such low levels of desperation. “Just… You’re not that useless with kids.”

“Gee, thanks,” Nemuri scoffed, lips tilting up in a smile anyways. “First of all, I won’t wake Hizashi up, but you have to tell him everything I tell you, okay?” Shouta gave a single nod, startling when Nemuri took both his hands in her own and gave a small squeeze. “First of all, you are a wonderful parent, Shouta.” 

It was Shouta’s turn to be startled, opening his mouth before closing it and shifting uncomfortably. Nemuri only smiled, giving his hands another squeeze, “I’m serious, Shou. Look at how much you do just for your students. Of course you’d be a wonderful parent - you and Hizashi both. I’ve seen it up close just from how much you fought to get custody of Hitoshi and give him a place to actually call home.” 

Nemuri sighed, her smile soft even as she shook her head. “Being a wonderful parent doesn’t mean you’re not going to make mistakes, though. This was one of those times, but that just means you’ll learn from it. You two are pretty good at that, right? Besides, there was no way you could have expected how bad this would get. Hitoshi’s a smart and mature kid, but he’s also just a kid.

“So!” Nemuri sat back up, giving a cheerful smile. “You want my advice on what to do? Talk to him. Physical abuse is sometimes easier to overcome than emotional abuse, and it’s easy to see Hitoshi has gone through both. While he knows you won’t hit him, he likely thinks you’re both angry at him.”

Shouta didn’t even get to respond before Nemuri was shaking her head with a soft, “I know you’re not, and he probably does, too. He’s just scared, Shouta. He’s a kid and he loves you and looks up to you just as much. He’s also your kid. He probably worked himself into a panic thinking you were angry at him or were even going to give him up.” 

It… made sense. Hitoshi had the same problems Hizashi did with letting his panic get the best of him. He may have logically known what was happening, but, well… Panic didn’t always adhere to logic. 

“Shouta,” Nemuri said softly, drawing his attention back to her. “He needs to hear from you two that things are going to be okay.” 

Giving Nemuri’s hands a squeeze in return before letting go, Shouta nodded with a quiet, “You’re right.” Pausing just long enough to let Nemuri swell with pride, Shouta smirked. “You’re still never babysitting my kid, though.”

“Wha- Excuse you! I’m a great aunt! I would be a great babysitter!” Nemuri near screeched, Shouta sighing as Hizashi gave a twitch and a wiggle to show he was awake. Idiot had probably forgotten to take his hearing aids out again. “I am a great babysitter!” 

“Tensei would disagree,” Shouta shrugged, hiding a smile behind his binding cloth as he ignored Nemuri’s dramatic fit. He’d let Hizashi deal with it. Besides, he had to plan on how to trap his kid in one place for longer than a few minutes. 

What he wasn’t expecting, though, was Midoriya.

“Aizawa-sensei?” Midoriya had at least waited until the last class of the day to approach him, the rest of the students already gone and off towards the dorms. 

“What is it, Midoriya?” Shouta was already prepared for a story about a broken bone or some villain attack he hadn’t yet heard about.

“I- Well- It’s about Shinsou.” Ah. He could safely say that he hadn’t been expecting that. “Nothing bad! He didn’t do anything or isn’t hurt or anything, but, um- See- It’s kind of-”

Shouta sighed, making a mental note to speak to All Might about the kid. While he had improved a lot, he let his nerves get the best of him too often. “What about Shinsou, Midoriya?”

“I’m worried about him,” Midoriya blurted out. It was a day just full of surprises, Shouta mused to himself. “It’s- Well-” Midoriya seemed to have an internal battle before he was drawing himself up and speaking more calmly. “He let slip some of what was worrying him the past week. He also let slip he was recently adopted.”

Oh. Shouta set his bag and folders down, giving the kid his full attention. While they had told Hitoshi that he was free to tell his classmates about his new living arrangements, the kid had been adamant that he was all too happy keeping it to himself.

“I don’t know the full details of what happened to cause everything and I know I’m probably overstepping, but I do know that he’s been stressed and worried all week. It’s getting to the point where it’s starting to get dangerous.”

Wasn’t that an understatement. Hitoshi had been doing poorly in the training session all week due to his lack of sleep and eating. Recovery Girl had already made it clear that if he wasn’t better by Monday, she would drag him into her office herself. Shouta was inclined to help if it came to it.

“Like I said,” Midoriya continued. “He hasn’t told me much about what’s fully bothering him, but I think… I think he wants to talk to you about it, but he doesn’t know how.” Midoriya took a breath, looking at Shouta evenly. “I’m not asking this as your student and you my teacher, but as Shinsou’s friend and you as a parent to him. Please talk to him.”

Quiet for a moment, Shouta nodded as he picked his things back up and made sure he had everything on him before finally speaking, “You’re right. You are overstepping.” He didn’t let the kid fret for long, reaching out to give a pat to his head. “But you’re a good kid and friend. Don’t worry about it anymore for now, Midoriya. I plan on talking to him tonight.” 

Midoriya slumped in relief, mumbling a few vague things under his breath before making an excuse to leave. Shouta made another note to himself that he didn’t really need to talk to All Might before leaving the classroom and heading towards the teacher’s lounge to grab Hizashi.

It was time for an intervention. 

It didn’t take long for them to get home and it took an even shorter amount of time to explain his plan to Hizashi. Then again, Shouta wasn’t sure how much of ‘trap Hitoshi in the living room and talk until he tells us what’s wrong’ was a plan.

“Are you sure this is the best idea?” Hizashi asked nervously, fidgeting with whatever was in reach as they nervously waited on the couch for Hitoshi to walk through the door. “Maybe we should…” Hizashi trailed off, as if he had no idea how to finish. 

Quiet for a moment, Shouta sighed as he rested his head on Hizashi’s shoulder, “No. I’m not sure this is the best idea, but I already told you what Nemuri and Midoriya said. Leaving this alone has only made things worse, and the least we can do is try.” 

“So logical,” Hizashi complained, pressing a kiss against Shouta’s temple that had him briefly smiling. “Fine, just… let’s be careful?” 

They heard the sound of the front door opening and closing before Shouta could respond, the two sitting up as Hitoshi trudged his way inside. The kid looked exhausted, and Shouta felt guilt clawing at him for not noticing just how bad it had gotten. 

“‘Toshi?” Hizashi asked softly, smiling when he had Hitoshi’s attention. “Can we talk, kiddo?” It took a moment, but Hitoshi finally fully entered the living room, looking tense and on edge even as he tried to act calm. 

Shouta was the first to break the silence with a soft, “Welcome home.” He was relieved when, after Hizashi parroted it, Hitoshi managed a small, weak smile. It was something, at least. The kid also didn’t make an excuse to run, instead heading towards one of the armchairs. 

It wasn’t until he was sure Hitoshi was settled and paying attention that Shouta began, making his voice firm because, if nothing else, he wanted the kid to believe he wasn’t in trouble. “First off, we’re not talking to you because you’re in anymore trouble. Neither of us are upset at you in any way. Got it?” It wasn’t hard to know what to say when he had been Hizashi’s friends for years and Hitoshi’s teacher, and parent, for months.

“Got it,” Hitoshi finally said. He didn’t look entirely relaxed, but he at least no longer looked afraid. That was more than enough for the moment. 

Hizashi then twitched beside him and Shouta tensed as he knew what was coming a moment before it happened. “If anyone’s in trouble, it’s Shouta for not doing the dishes last night like he promised!” Ah… betrayed by his own husband. 

Shouta couldn’t find it within him to be too upset when it made Hitoshi smile, though. Hizashi seemed to think the same, giving a bit more of a smile before he was softening his voice again, “This might be a bit awkward, kiddo, but do you feel up to answering some questions for us? Nothing too personal! Just… it’s about this week, mostly.” 

Hitoshi twitched and Shouta hid a sigh. They really had let it get bad. Hizashi, at least, didn’t falter, only waiting until Hitoshi gave the smallest of nods. “Okay, so, first, do you feel like you need to go to a doctor?” 

“I- Wha-” Hitoshi snapped his mouth shut, Shouta feeling a stab of pain as he realized what had happened. It wasn’t the first time the kid had forcibly stopped himself from asking a question, but it hurt every time. “No. I don’t need to go to a doctor. I’m not sure why you think I do.”

“You haven’t been eating,” Shouta said softly. “You’ll eat a few bites when Hizashi asks you too, but otherwise I don’t think I’ve seen you eat breakfast or dinner since Monday.” Which had near drove Shouta to drag Hitoshi to Recovery Girl himself. “I haven’t seen you in the cafeteria the last couple of days at school, either, not including today.” He had no doubt Midoriya had been responsible for that, considering their conversation after school.

Hitoshi, instead of staying calm like he had no doubt been trying to do, instead shifted in his seat, looking nervous as some of that fear leaked back into his eyes. “I just… haven’t been very hungry. I don’t think I’m sick or anything, though.”

“Does your lack of appetite have something to do with you no longer asking questions?” Hizashi asked, Shouta glancing at him to see he was no longer fidgeting, attention solely focused on Hitoshi. Hitoshi, who was avoiding looking at them for too long and finally just shrugged. 

“I guess I just… didn’t have any questions to ask lately,” Hitoshi mumbled, Shouta unable to hide a quick snort of laughter at the thought of Hitoshi not being curious. The moment he had broken the kid of his habit to not ask questions he had never stopped asking questions. It was only at the last second that Shouta caught Hitoshi’s wince.

Hizashi must have seen it too, his voice a low, hurt whine as he called Hitoshi’s name, “‘Toshi. You’re- Kiddo, you’re pulling away.” 

For the first time since he had sat down, Hitoshi looked up, confused instead of scared and overwhelmed. That was progress, Shouta supposed. “I… I don’t know what you by that,” Hitoshi finally said.

“Kid,” Shouta sighed, feeling as if the exhaustion from the long week was hitting him all at once. “You flinch when we get too close to you. You haven’t done that in months. At first we just thought you were having a bad day, but it’s been going on almost all week, Hitoshi.” 

“And you know we want you to feel safe enough to have your own space, but…” Hizashi trailed off, as if trying to push down his worry. He no doubt was. “You haven’t been sleeping well, either. Put that with not eating and flinching away and no longer asking questions and it- It doesn’t look good, kiddo.” 

“Hitoshi,” Shouta called softly, trying to get his attention. “We can’t help if we don’t know what’s going on with you. What happened?” 

“I…” Hitoshi trailed off, as if he didn’t have the words to convey what was going through his head. Considering everything, Shouta wasn’t sure if the kid did have the words. Hitoshi was the type of kid used to being blamed for problems that weren’t his fault simply because of the quirk he had. Put that together with his time in the system? When was the last time an adult in charge of him had cared as much as they did, Shouta wondered.

“Just tell us what’s wrong, ‘Toshi, and we’ll do our best to help,” Hizashi pleaded, Shouta feeling the same edge of desperation that were in the words. 

Hitoshi, instead of opening up, seemed to start shutting down, uttering a weak, “It’s not that important.” The kid was shutting down and Shouta wasn’t about to let that happen again. Not when letting that happen had caused stress for all of them.

“Yes,” he pressed. “It is.” He had promised Hitoshi that he had a home here, and that came with parents that cared for him. He wasn’t about to let the kid forget that after he had opened up so much. “You’re important to us, Hitoshi.” 

Shouta couldn’t say he hadn’t expected the break to come, but that didn’t mean he still wasn’t surprised when Hitoshi jumped to his feet, near shouting his response, “I’m fine, I’m just trying to figure out when you’re going to finish punishing me!” 

Unable to respond, Shouta glanced to Hizashi. The man looked as gutted and wrecked as Shouta felt because that was what it had been about? Hitoshi thought… God. Of course he did. In his experience being grounded and punished probably meant something so different.

“I mean- I get,” Hitoshi continued, tugging at his hair sharply - another habit they had thought was broken. “I fucked up. I broke a rule by not getting back at the right time, so why won’t you just get it over with?!” 

Oh… Hitoshi. “It can’t just be as light as telling me no games or anything and sticking me in my room for a week- That’s not how it works. You’re supposed to limit me to one meal a day, or tell me to do all the chores in the house until I’ve learned a lesson, or make me get up earlier and get less sleep or something, or- Or-” 

“Or hit you?” The words were finished by Hizashi, Shouta near jolting at how pained the words were. Of course they would be, though. For as much as this was killing Shouta, it was no doubt worse for Hizashi, who knew the system firsthand. 

“I…” Hitoshi trailed off, sounding and looking so young. “That’s how it goes, isn’t it?” Hizashi moved before Shouta could, standing up and walking towards Hitoshi slowly and calmly. 

“Right,” Hizashi said. “I’m going to hug you, okay?” That was all the warning the kid was given before Hizashi had him wrapped up in what was no doubt a tight hug. Shouta stood up himself, relieved when he noticed Hitoshi, for the first time since the mess had started, hadn’t flinched. Instead, he near collapsed into the contact. “‘Toshi… Hitoshi, we could never- We could never hurt you like that. Those aren’t- Those aren’t groundings. That is abuse, Hitoshi.” 

Shouta felt another pang of guilt and pain at how Hitoshi looked like he would shake himself apart if Hizashi let go of him. He didn’t even pause to run a hand through the kid’s hair once he was close enough, trying for a smile when Hitoshi cracked his eyes open to peek up at him, “Hitoshi… we didn’t ground you because you broke a rule, we grounded you because we were scared for you.” 

“I… what?” God, the kid sounded so confused over such a simple thought. “Why… why would you be scared for me?” 

Hizashi laughed, the sound edging on hysterical. Shouta couldn’t really blame him after the week they all had. “Why would we be scared? Because you’re our son. We were scared because you went two prefectures away and we didn’t know if you had been hurt, or were in trouble, or- We were scared of losing you, Hitoshi. We were never angry at you.” 

“We love you, Hitoshi,” Shouta said, trying to make the kid see that those words were a fact. It was something that wasn’t going to change. “Nothing you do could ever make us love you less, either.” 

“You… really aren’t angry.” Hitoshi collapsed the rest of the way into Hizashi’s hold, eyes tearing up. Shouta made a mental note to not bring any attention to it whatsoever, and, if asked, to never admit he had seen anything. “But-” 

“No buts,” Shouta cut off, finally giving a small smile as he ruffled the kid’s hair. “If you’re really still unable to accept it, however, then your punishment is to never forget that we love you, even if we seem upset or disappointed in you. Okay?” 

“That was lame,” Hitoshi sniffed, a few tears spilling over even as he grinned. “Okay.” It was the grin, more than anything, that let Shouta know everything was going to be okay. 

“Shouta is pretty lame,” Hizashi ‘whispered,’ rubbing at Hitoshi’s back and holding the kid close when his breath hitched and he pressed even closer. “Poor thing… you’ve really been through it this week, haven’t you? Tell you what, why don’t we watch some dumb tv for a while, and then you can catch up on some sleep and all the meals you’ve been missing.”

Shouta couldn’t stop his laugh when Hitoshi pulled back enough to roll his eyes, pairing it with a dry, “Aren’t I supposed to be grounded from television for the entire week?” 

“You know, kid, I think you punished yourself enough to make up for it,” Shouta finally said, gently extracting him from Hizashi’s tight grip and leading him towards the couch. “C’mon, let’s pick a movie while that idiot starts on dinner.” 

“You’re so mean to your husband,” Hizashi whined, Shouta smiling as everything fell back into place just like it was supposed to. 

Soon enough and it felt like the world was finally back to normal, the three of them curled up on the couch with far too many blankets and snacks and Hitoshi falling asleep against Shouta with his legs hooked over Hizashi’s lap.

There would be more to talk about in the future, but they had made a start, at least. That was more than enough for that moment - plus, Hitoshi was almost completely asleep the next time Shouta glanced down at him.

Shouta couldn’t help a soft laugh at the sight, threading a hand through the kid’s hair as Hizashi smiled and whispered a quiet, “Sleep well, ‘Toshi.” 

Hitoshi had a soft, almost silly grin on his face when he mumbled back a soft, “Thanks, Dads.” There was a quiet, sharp inhale from Hizashi where he was settled right next to them, Shouta freezing himself and staring blankly down at where Hitoshi, who seemed to only take another moment or two before dropping off into actual sleep.

“Shouta,” Hizashi hissed, voice barely above a whisper as he batted at Shouta’s shoulder frantically. He sounded as wrecked as Shouta felt. “Shouta. He- He said- He called- Shouta he called us his dads.” 

Tucking Hitoshi closer to him and making sure the blanket was wrapped around the kid tight enough, Shouta managed to mutter a quiet, “Pull it together, ‘Zashi.” He decided to ignore the fact that he could feel his eyes stinging. 

“Says the one crying.” Then again, his husband was a traitor who constantly betrayed his trust. It was at least gratifying to see that Hizashi had teared up himself and had near knocked his glasses of his face to try and scrub the tears away. “He actually- I mean- It’s not like it’s a surprise, but also- Shouta.”

Shouta couldn’t help a soft laugh, watching as Hizashi near vibrated and wiggled in place all while trying to stay still so he didn’t wake up their kid. The sight was amusing enough that Shouta almost wanted to grab his phone just so he could record it. He then noticed, however, that Hizashi had his phone.

“Really?” Shouta asked, snorting at Hizashi’s guilty expression. “If you post this on any of your accounts and he finds out he will disown you.” Probably. The kid seemed more amused when it happened than anything else, and Hizashi had always been good at staying vague even as he shared every little detail about his life.

“I was only going to text our very close friends to tell them the good news,” Hizashi insisted, as if lying would work against Shouta. “You know, like Nem and Tensei. And maybe a couple people I work with at the station. And a few of the other teachers. And-”

“You know, if you really want to cut down on the time it would take, just go up to the roof and shout the news. I’m sure they would all hear you.” Shouta took the swat to his shoulder with grace, more amused at Hizashi’s ‘glare’ than anything else.

“Honestly…” Hizashi tsked, very dramatically turning his phone off and dropping it on the couch cushion next to him. Shouta gave it ten minutes before it was back in his hands. “Hey, are you really going to ground him just so he doesn’t have to go to a concert with his friends?” 

Shouta gave a soft hum, moving an arm to wrap around Hizashi’s shoulders as the man shuffled closer to them, tucking the blankets around all three of them. He couldn’t help but think about Midoriya earlier that day, dragging Hitoshi to lunch and then approaching Shouta himself because he was worried for his friend more than he was worried about Shouta’s reactions. 

“No,” Shouta finally said softly. “Those three kids are good for him.” Hitoshi had come out of his shell at U.A. just as much as he had at home, and Shouta was certain those three had a lot to do with it. “Besides, I just found a new way to ground him when he gets into trouble.” 

“Oh?” Hizashi perked up, tilting his head back to look up at Shouta before frowning and squinting at him. “I don’t like that grin, Shou-chan.” 

Shouta only let his grin grow. “Next time he gets in trouble, I’ll ground him by forcing him to spend time with his friends.” All things considered, Shouta thought it would be a rather effective punishment. 

It took only a few seconds before Hizashi was twisting around and trying to stifle his laughter in Shouta’s shoulder, body shaking with the effort. “Oh, Shouta, leave it to you to think something like that is a punishment!” 

“I think it’s perfect,” Shouta hummed, hiding a smile against the top of Hizashi’s head as he closed his eyes for a moment, relaxing in the moment as everything felt so right. 

Maybe, in the end, they weren’t the worst parents in the world.

[iris-writes-things]

Two Guys and a Baby: Day 4

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Pining? He wasn’t pining. Ezra Fell hadn’t pined for anyone since secondary school, had he? He and Anthony simply felt comfortable with one another when their lives happened to slot together, except for maybe last night, but it wasn’t like he had felt any unbearable heartache whenever they had to go their separate ways.

Or, Ezra confronts his feelings.

Chapter 6 of 20 Ongoing 2164 words Romance/Humor

It had been just like the last time. Him and Anthony. Alone. Well. Alone-ish. The booth in that bar two years ago wasn’t entirely what one would call ‘alone’, but it was alone enough. Anyway. Him and Anthony. Alone. A bottle of wine split between them. It had been dark. The only light between them had been the flickering of a candle. Anthony had leaned in close, then, but so had he. Back then, he couldn’t help the feeling that something was off. Something was wrong. They had both been intoxicated. To make a move would have been taking advantage. He had done the right thing, then. He’d gotten up, paid the tab and went home.

And then there had been two years of radio silence.

He frowned as his pen scribbled across the page of his journal, rubbing his free hand over his face. He was sitting comfortably on his bed in his comfortable flannel pajamas, but he felt everything but comfortable. Had it really been the right thing to do, though? To leave Anthony alone in his obviously troubled state? To not lean in and close the gap? After all, this had been the second time it happened. Clearly some part of Anthony wanted it.

God knew he wanted it.

He wanted to work together with Anthony, because with him, he felt invincible. Wanted to settle down with Anthony ever since he showed up at the park just outside his bookshop with little Anathema on his arm, and again with little Adam in his stroller. He wanted to bury his fingers in Anthony’s hair, take those silly sunglasses off his face, look deeply into his amber eyes and kiss him until he was breathless.

If only Anthony wanted the same.

Ezra snapped the journal shut and shoved it under his pillow, wrapped himself up in his blanket. He curled up into a tight ball and squeezed his eyes shut in hopes of sleep washing over him. 

Tomorrow, everything would be better.

*

Ezra had slumped down the stairs and into the shop early in the morning the next day. He hadn’t slept well. He had barely slept at all. He’d been too worried about Adam and Anthony. And, perhaps, worried about Anthony in more than one way. The red light of the dawn the bookshop bathed in seemed to set it aflame. He rubbed his eyes and made a beeline for the magazine section he kept on the ground floor of the shop.

'10 signs that he's into you,' the cover of the magazine he was reaching for read. Was he really desperate enough to ask advice from a teen magazine? Well, as it was, yes. Ezra didn't have that many friends, and the internet was something he wasn't quite ready to explore just yet. Besides, there was nothing wrong with just checking, right?

He took a seat behind the counter of the shop and leafed through to the article. Alright, top of the list.

1. He reaches out first.

Well, that had been correct, wasn’t it? Anthony had needed his help with Adam, so that made sense. Though, it hadn’t been for himself, right? It had been for Adam’s sake. Ezra decided it didn’t count. For now.

2. He always seems happy around you.

That wasn’t quite right either. Whenever Anthony was around his nowadays he seemed… nervous, sometimes. Grumpy, other times, but even more reserved. And then there was whatever the heck yesterday was.

The bell over the bookshop’s door jingled.

“W-we’re closed!” Ezra stammered as he rushed to hide the magazine behind the counter.

“Ezra! Is that any way to greet a potential customer?” the man entering the shop said with a jolly tone in his voice. 

“Gabriel!” The magazine flopped to the floor. “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” Gabriel started as he made his way up to the counter. “I was going to meet up with a contact at a major publisher to discuss your book over a bagel and a cup of coffee, but I realized I left my copy of your first draft at home. So, since I was in the area anyway, I figured I’d swing by and ask if I can borrow your copy, maybe?”

Ezra squinted up at the impossibly tall American man, but got up and made his way up to his apartment nonetheless.

“Nice place you got here.” Gabriel noted flatly. “Real quaint.” Footsteps echoed across the empty shop, up to the apartment above where Ezra searched for his first draft, as his agent went behind the counter. 

“Thanks,” Ezra said with a flatness to his tone to rival Gabriel’s.

“Oh, what’s this? ‘10 signs that he’s into you’?”

Ezra nearly dropped his draft once he had it. “It’s nothing!” he called nervously down the stairs, before making his way back to the ground floor.

“Well, unless you suddenly hired yourself a cashier, I’d guess you were the one reading this garbage. Or are you about to tell me there’s some kind of top-grade journalism going into the production of a glossy teen magazine?”

“Surely, a lot more work goes into producing a glossy teen magazine than either of us think, but I swear, it’s nothing.” Ezra said as he snatched the magazine from Gabriel’s fingers and quickly replaced it with his first draft.

“If you say so, buddy,” Gabriel patted Ezra’s head before making his way back to the door.

So patronizing. He ought to say something. “Gabriel!” he called. But when the man turned around to face him, all traces of fierceness left the author. Ezra painfully remembered that he needed his help. “There’s something I need to ask you.”

The man rolled up the stack of paper, stuck it under his arm and folded his arms over each other. “If you’re going to invite me on a date, I’m sorry, but I don’t do that kind of thing with clients. Of either sex.”

“That’s not what I— Look, I just wanted to ask you if maybe I could pick the artist for the cover for the book. I have this friend who’s a fantastic painter, and he already said he’d be interested.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “First, let me try to get through to the publisher, then we’ll talk artists.”

“Oh, alright then…” Ezra stammered. “I just thought it might be nice since he’s a direct descendant Agnes’.”

A single eyebrow raised on the tall man’s face.

“The witch the book is about. His niece actually gave me a treasure trove of information I can use to make the book more accurate.”

“You know what, Ezra. I’ll see what I can do for you,” Gabriel said with a chuckle, turning to leave again. “Oh, and a quick word of advice: if the guy you think is into you won’t take the initiative, maybe you should give it a shot. Pining is all fun and games in romance novels, but in real life, it’s painful to watch.”

The bell over the bookshop’s door jingled as it clicked shut and Gabriel started on his way.

Pining? He wasn’t pining. Ezra Fell hadn’t pined for anyone since secondary school, had he? He and Anthony simply felt comfortable with one another when their lives happened to slot together, except for maybe last night, but it wasn’t like he had felt any unbearable heartache whenever they had to go their separate ways. Not for the first month of Anthony’s avoiding him last time, anyway. After that, Ezra would be lying if he said a deep dread didn’t settle in him that he, perhaps, had done the wrong thing. That he had hurt his friend. That they would never talk again.

And yet, when he’d met him and Adam in the park the other day, they talked like nothing ever happened. Perhaps he was overthinking this.

But perhaps not.

Ezra picked the magazine back up and sat back at his seat behind the counter as he continued reading the article.

3. He cares about your needs.

Ezra glanced up from the magazine when his phone buzzed. It would be one of those days, wouldn’t it? The saying might go ‘no rest for the wicked’, but there was rarely any peace for the virtuous either. Though, everything disappeared when he read the message on the black and white screen of his cell phone.

“Sorry I was an ass yesterday. At the bakery for a peace offering. Will see you soon. -C”

Well… That was alright, then.

*

Three words. Belgian, chocolate, croissants.

“You like it?” Anthony asked him while fed Adam, sitting in the windowsill he’d claimed as his own since Saturday. Perhaps Ezra would keep it cleared of all the books, if Anthony would still like to visit once Adam’s mums were back.

“Are you out of your mind? These are fantastic! Are you sure you don’t want any?”

Anthony shrugged. “I had breakfast before I left.”

“Well, your loss. They are splendid,” Ezra said as he ate another. He swore he saw Anthony smile at him, warm and gentle. But then again, it might have been directed towards Adam.

“That’s good,” Anthony said. “Wouldn’t be much of a peace offering otherwise.”

“Last I checked, we weren’t at war.”

“Last I checked, I was a complete ass to you yesterday and you deserved better.”

“It’s alright, dear. We all have those days,” Ezra smiled.

A shade of pink tinged the other man’s cheeks as he glanced away. 

It made Ezra’s heart leap, and he made a mental note of it to describe it in detail in his journal tonight. He briefly wondered if Anthony had any idea how captivating he was. If he knew how endearing he was.

“And…” he spoke again. “I’m also sorry about that night two years ago.”

“What?”

“I was just… pissed out of my mind. I shouldn’t have gone in to kiss you…” and Ezra had been sure Anthony would have gone on, had Adam not struggled around in his lap. “What’s up, little guy? Are you full already?”

“I think he wants you to put him down,” Ezra suggested.

Crowley gave him a look, but soon cracked a smile.

Ezra rolled his eyes. “On the floor, Anthony dear.”

“Are you sure? He’s been fine with me holding him so far.”

“Just, trust me. There’s nothing dangerous he can get up to in the shop.”

Anthony seemed to think this over as his brows furrowed behind the rims of his sunglasses, but eventually set Adam down on the floor and vigilantly watched the baby as he crawled off.

“You’ve gotten attached, haven’t you?” Ezra asked, leaning his chin on the palm of his hand.

“It’s not like he’s making it very difficult,” Anthony shrugged, still glancing in the direction Adam crawled in. “And I do like children, you know?”

Ezra knew the man must have liked children on some level, of course. He wouldn’t have had the presence he’d had in his niece’s life if he hadn’t. All that theatre Anthony put on to be the cool, tough guy, and yet, he was a big softie.

As the sun started to reach its apex and no longer hid behind the trees in the park outside the shop, its warm rays crashed through the window of the storefront, where Anthony was sitting in the windowsill. The sunlight caught behind his sunglasses, putting his eyes on display for Ezra, and bathed the bespectacled man in an almost ethereal aura. A smile spread across Ezra’s face as he gazed deeply into those amber pools.

“I think your eyes are the most beautiful I’ve ever had the pleasure of looking at. It’s a shame you hide them behind those sunglasses all the time.”

Anthony blushed a deep red and glanced away, and Ezra realized that he hadn’t just thought that to himself.

“I-I’m sorry!” he stammered. His face lit on fire like a matchstick struck at lightspeed. “I didn’t mean to say that, I just…”

A grumble escaped Anthony. Something along the lines of “you could have just asked me,” but against all odds, the man had taken off his sunglasses and tucked them into the inner pocket of his jacket. 

*

Granted, it hadn’t been the finest move on his part, Ezra thought as he scribbled in his journal that night, but it had been so worth it, to watch his eyes sparkle, his eyebrows knitting together, his mouth gaping, his cheeks growing the most beautiful shade of red… 

And he had stayed. They had had lunch and dinner together, Anthony’s treat, as well. They had talked about their respective jobs and crafts and everything and nothing. Anthony had actually managed to relax after letting Adam go and his sunglasses hadn’t rested on his nose again until he went home for the night.

Perhaps he would contact Anathema on the matter. But that would have to wait until the next morning. For now, he shoved his journal under his pillow and went to sleep.

[xennariel]

Grim Aria - Chapter 1

I’ve decided to post the first three chapters to my novel publicly, not just the prologue, so enjoy! If you like this story, please consider supporting me on Patreon? I’m posting my novel as a monthly serialization on Patreon, posting a new chapter for patrons every month!

This is also posted on FictionPress and AO3!

Prologue

Genre: Fantasy, Action, Adventure, Horror Rating: T for violence, swearing, and gore Summary: Xennariel Revenlyr is an Ankhari, a race of demon from a world known as Shadira. After tragedy strikes her people, she feels she has nothing left to live for but vengeance for her family. She decides to dedicate her life to finding and killing Chiron, the Lord of the Chaos Demons and the man that is responsible for her family’s deaths.

Due to events beyond her control, Xen finds herself trapped in an unfamiliar place that she later discovers is our world, a world dominated by humans that are unaware of the existence of other dimensions. She spends the next eight years futilely trying to find a way home, thinking she needs to get back to Shadira in order to kill Chiron. But maybe she doesn’t need to go that far to find him after all.

Begrudgingly accepting the help of a young man who seems oddly interested in the paranormal, Xennariel faces challenges, unexpected enemies, and attempts to cope with past trauma while trying to find a way home. Through it all, she refuses to give up on getting back to Shadira, regardless of the attachments she might be making in our world.

--------

Chapter 1

The crisp night air brought in a chill from the North and Xennariel tightened her cloak around her shoulders. Thunder rolled in the distance, getting closer with every crash. The trees around her swayed in the howling wind and strands of her long azure hair flew about, becoming a tangled mess. She lifted the hood of her cloak over her head and struggled to tuck her hair under it.

A little more time. Just a little more time was all she needed. The weather had changed unexpectedly as soon as she began her hunt, but she wasn’t going to let it stop her from catching the shadow demon she was tracking.

How exactly these lesser demons were getting into this world was a mystery she very much wanted to solve. If she could find out where they were getting into this world from…

Thunder boomed again, this time much closer, just as Xennariel caught up to the shadow demon she’d been hunting. It was an ugly thing, floating horizontally off the ground with no visible legs, just dark mist dripping from its elongated torso. It appeared to be made entirely of dark smoke, its outstretched, spindly arms the only truly solid thing about it. Where its face should have been was shrouded, its eye sockets hollow, mouth full of jagged, razor like teeth. Xennariel could make out the trees through its body. The shadow demon would be hard to spot to anyone that didn’t know what to look for.

“Go, Shakuran,” Xennariel muttered.

The wolf at her side took off in a blur of silver and blue. He rounded about the shadow demon to trap it between him and Xennariel, who swiftly dashed forward when it tried to flee, corralling it back toward Shakuran. Shakuran snarled and snapped at the lesser demon and it reared back, mouth opening to let out a high pitched screech, its jagged jaws dripping with dark mist and saliva. Xennariel and Shakuran closed the gap between them until the shadow demon had nowhere to run. Xennariel conjured a ball of shadows in her hand that crackled with blue and purple lightning. She threw it at the demon and it fell with a howl to the ground, writhing and twisting in pain.

Xennariel smirked at the shadow demon, standing over it and placing her hands at either side of the demon’s body. She slowly dragged her hands apart, eliciting an even louder scream from it as she tore away its life energy. After a brief flash of light, the shadow demon disappeared in a puff of smoke. Xennariel held its life energy in her hand, a ball of dark mist floating inches above her palm. Tossing it in the air, she leaned her head back and opened her mouth to devour it, taking a deep breath and licking her lips. It was the first soul she’d eaten in years and she could already feel herself growing stronger again. She didn’t know how demons from her world were suddenly finding their way to the one she was currently stuck in, but it was working out in her favor.

“Well, that’s taken care of. Let’s go back, Shaku. I’m tired.”

They trudged back to the house just as it started to rain. Xennariel slipped in through the side door with Shakuran right behind her. Once inside, Xen removed her cloak, hanging it on the coat rack to dry. Shakuran shook, spraying water all over the entryway and Xennariel glared at him. He brushed past her, ignoring her scowl, and ascended the stairs.

“Rude, Shaku,” Xen grumbled.

Taking her shoes off, she followed him up the stairs to dry off and get some much needed sleep.

-------

Xennariel groaned and yawned, groggily sitting up in her bed. She threw back the covers and swung her legs over the side, feet landing on the plush rug covering the wooden floor of her room. She wriggled her toes and rubbed her eyes, trying to wake herself up. Shakuran lay at the foot of her bed and cocked an ear, one eye opening to watch Xennariel stand and stumble toward the bathroom to get ready for the day.

Warily, she stared at herself in the mirror while she brushed her teeth. She looked terrible. The young woman who stared back had bags under her eyes, matted hair, and pasty skin. The current shabby appearance of her human form was a testament to how terribly she had slept. She dreamt of her past again. It had been a while since that memory manifested itself in her nightmares, but when it did, it always made for a restless night.

Sighing, she spat out a mouthful of toothpaste, rinsed out her mouth, and began attempting to remove the tangles from her hair. It had gotten long, now falling almost to her waist. When she finally managed to free her hair of all knots, she put a blue contact into her right eye, then looked herself over in the mirror once more. She reached up to the black, leather choker around her neck with a large silver hoop dangling from it. A silver chain was connected to the hoop, winding its way around her shoulders and back. Her hand fell from her neck to the chain, tugging at it a bit. It was impossible to remove, enchanted as it was, but it never stopped her from fidgeting with it anyway. Sighing, she dropped her hand back to her side, nodded in satisfaction at her appearance, and left the bathroom to change out of her pajama shirt.

Shakuran was awake when she walked back out into her room. He stood and stretched before stepping down off the bed without even needing to jump. He had grown so much since they woke up in this world eight years ago, yet Xennariel had barely grown at all. Despite being seventeen years old, she wasn’t much taller than she had been as a kid. It was something that annoyed her and she wished she knew what had stunted her growth. She had her guesses, but none of it explained why Shakuran still grew up normally.

“Well Shaku, I’m off,” Xennariel said with a yawn, scratching the wolf behind his ears as she walked past him.

Her bedroom was located on the third floor of a log home. The upper floors were used as living space for the family she was staying with and the bottom floor was a cafe and coffee shop run by said family. The couple that had found her all those years ago had a son who was older than her and they all had rooms on the second floor. When Xennariel came to stay with them, they gave her the attic space, fixing it up with a bathroom, window seat, and French windows that opened up to a rooftop deck. It was a nice setup and Xennariel was certainly not complaining about having a roof over her head and a comfortable place to sleep. The rustic and nature inspired atmosphere of the house, as well as the fact that it backed up to a dense forest, made her feel at home, which was a definite bonus.

She shuffled down the stairs to the door that lead to the second floor from her room, opening the door and stepping out into the dim hallway. It seemed her adoptive brother wasn’t awake yet. Typical. They needed to open the cafe in less than half an hour, but he was still off in dreamland, probably expecting Xennariel to do everything, as usual.

Xennariel descended the staircase to the main floor and flicked on the lights. The main entry to the living portion of the house was across from the stairs and she meandered through the foyer toward the kitchen when a muffled thump on the other side of the door caught her attention. Furrowing her brow, she crept to the front door and listened. The sound came again so she unlocked the bolts and flung the door open only to have a blond man fall over the threshold and almost land on top of her.

“Ow,” the man yelped, rubbing his head as he stood up again. “Oh, so you are home. Thanks for finally letting me in.”

Xennariel gaped at her adoptive brother, Jesse Rousseau. His blond hair was mussed, his clothes wrinkled, and, judging from the bags under his green eyes, he must have slept terribly. He shouldn’t have been outside at this hour. She thought he had been asleep in his room upstairs.

“What the hell? You weren’t even home?”

“Met this chick last night and she invited me to her place and well, ya know, I just stayed there. She was hot.”

Xennariel sighed and leaned on the banister behind her, covering her face with her hands. Of course he was with a pretty girl. He could never resist chasing tail. It was infuriating, especially when she was left to do everything by herself. His parents were off touring Europe for his mom’s modeling career and he was supposed to be in charge of the cafe. But every day, he’d go off with some girl or his friends and leave the running of Blue Rain to Xennariel and the small staff that worked for them. She could handle it. That wasn’t the problem. The issue was that she had so many more important things that she needed to be doing.

“Well good,” Xennariel huffed, putting her hands on her hips. “You’re home and awake so you can actually help me with the cafe today.”

“Aw, c’mon Maggie,” Jesse groaned, using the name Xennariel had given when his family first found her. When they asked her name, she had given her middle name, Megari, out of caution. They misheard her, but she never bothered correcting them. “Cut me some slack.”

“Cut you some slack? You never do anything! You’re the adult here. Ya know, the one that’s supposed to be in charge? You’re so lazy. Just do your job.”

“I don’t need a little brat like you telling me what to do.” Xennariel kicked him in the shin for his jab at her height and he doubled over to hold his leg. “Ow, hey!”

“I wouldn’t have to tell you what to do if you wouldn’t shirk your duties.”

She turned and stomped off to the kitchen to resume her morning preparations. The swinging door that led to the cafe from the kitchen flew open as she stormed through.

It was always surreal to see the cafe so quiet. The lingering scent of coffee hung in the air. With the curtains drawn, only a meager amount of sunlight filtered in, casting streaks of light over the booths and tables stacked with chairs. The steady hum of the ice cream and soda machines behind the bar were the only sounds to be heard other than the door flapping behind Xennariel. It was peaceful and she wished she wouldn’t have to ruin it by dealing with customers all day.

Xennariel unlocked the entrance to the cafe and opened all the windows to let in as much natural light and fresh air as possible. Blue Rain was notorious for getting stuffy when it got busy. Just as she turned her back on the door to start pulling chairs off of tables, the door opened. It jingled as it hit the little bell hanging above it, grabbing Xennariel’s attention.

“Maggie!” A girl with short blonde hair pranced into the cafe, her blue eyes bright and focused on Xennariel. “Good morning!”

Xennariel breathed a short sigh of relief. Leave it to Amy to show up early on a Saturday to help set things up even though she wasn’t scheduled until later. She and Amy became friends a year or so after Xen was adopted by the Rousseau’s. They were the same age and met in school. Amy was sad when Xennariel ended up testing out of high school, but Xen wanted to focus on getting back to Shadira rather than wasting her time with unnecessary human schooling. When Amy came looking for a part time job last year, she was hired right away for her spunk and enthusiasm and Xennariel was grateful she would have someone to talk to while working. It made the work days pass a little faster.

“Hey, Amy. Mind helping me out with setting up the tables?”

“Sure! Let me just put my stuff down.”

The multicolored bracelets adorning her arms clinked and jingled as Amy practically skipped over to the long bar at the far end of the cafe. A piece of the wall was cut out behind it connecting to the kitchen and Amy tossed her purse through the hole. It landed with a thud near the dining table Xennariel and her adoptive family used for personal meals. Grabbing an apron from behind the counter, Amy wrapped it around herself and got to work helping Xennariel pull chairs off the tables.

“Zak’s coming in today right?” Xennariel asked as they set the tables with silverware and glasses.

“Mmhmm, should be here soonish, I think.”

Zak was the part time cook for the cafe and had come in with Amy to apply a year prior. It was an easy job for him to handle while he went to college a few towns away and he just so happened to be a fantastic cook. The three friends were the ones that ran the cafe while Jesse was off galavanting around town.

The two finished setting up the cafe just in time to open. Blue Rain was a favorite spot for the locals and, as expected, morning regulars showed up just as Xennariel flicked on the ‘open’ sign.

Zak showed up half an hour late with profuse apologies, his jeans covered in ink stains and his brown hair looking as if he hadn’t combed it that morning.

“Dad messed up the computer systems at the shop again,” Zak sighed. “It took a while for me figure out what was wrong and get things up and running.”

He donned an apron and got to work in the kitchen right away. They were lucky no one had ordered any food yet. Just coffee. Lots of coffee. It was actually what Blue Rain was known for, even with a menu full of delicious food options.

In such a small town, everyone seemed to know everyone and familiar faces trickled in throughout the day. It was just another boring Saturday until a small group of tourists walked in. A blonde teen immediately caught Amy’s eye and she spent the rest of the day talking to him as often as she could.

Zak noticed Amy chatting with the boys at the booth in the corner and he sighed, his brown eyes staring off in distant longing. Xennariel caught Zak staring at Amy and wondered when Amy would ever notice his feelings for her or find a boyfriend she could actually stick with for more than a week. Xen was rooting for the former, but with Amy, who she dated seemed to be completely random and based entirely on sudden puppy love on her part. She fell in love hard and fast and was always broken hearted when she eventually realized how superficial the relationships actually were. Zak sighed and turned to get back to work.

Closing time came around after what seemed like forever. Xenariel bid her friends good night after declining their invitation to hang out, claiming she was too tired. She trudged up the stairs to her room, noting that Jesse wasn’t home again as she passed the dark hall. That slacker would get an earful the next time she saw him. His parents were such nice people and how they managed to raise such a jerk was lost on Xennariel.

She reached the door to the refurbished attic and opened it, climbing the stairs into her room after locking the door behind her. It had been a long day, but she had an even longer night ahead of her.

Just because she was trapped in a world run by humans didn’t mean she wanted to be. When she wasn’t blending in, she was researching ways to return to Shadira, her world. The place she belonged. Things like walking around in a human form, refraining from using magic in the presence of others, and keeping Shakuran out of sight, were getting tiring. Drawing suspicion was the last thing she wanted though, so she went about her days pretending to be human and used her nights to try to find a portal that would take her home. It was a shame she never did master that form of magic. She would have gone home years ago if she was able to activate portal runes.

Shakuran greeted her as she reached the top of the steps. She rubbed his head and he pushed close to her, enjoying getting his ears scratched. She snagged a book from out of a drawer in her night table and scanned the runed cover to make sure it was the one she wanted. Opening the French windows, she stepped onto the cushioned window seat, careful not to knock any pillows off, and climbed out onto the rooftop deck with Shakuran right behind her. Two plush armchairs sat under an awning stretching out from above her windows. She dragged one of them over to the edge of the deck so she could sit and look out over the backyard while she read, into the darkening forest beyond. It was relaxing to simply sit out on that deck, the sounds of birds and crickets filling the air, the sun slowly dipping below the horizon, making way for the moon and stars to dot the sky above her.

If she closed her eyes, it almost felt like she was home.

Movement just inside the line of trees before her caught Xennariel’s attention and she leaned forward a bit, eyes narrowing as she watched and waited to catch sight of whatever it was. Shakuran’s ears perked and he too moved to look in the direction of Xennariel’s gaze, his body tense, eyes alert. A low growl reached their ears and a shadowy figure darted past their line of vision. They sprang to their feet, Xennariel leaping to the ledge of the rail that surrounded the deck, crouching for a moment before leaping off the roof. She landed gracefully on her feet and darted at an inhuman pace toward the forest. Shakuran followed her a moment later and they disappeared into the treeline.

------

It was a lovely, cool evening for a jog, yet Loki’s loose t-shirt still clung to the sweat on his back. He had been running for over three miles already. It was inevitable that he’d work up a sweat. That didn’t mean it was any less uncomfortable.

Pausing to wipe his brow with the sweatband on his wrist, he quickly resumed his nightly jog, passing all the familiar homes and streets on his path. As he neared the end of his route, he paused for a moment again to pull his too-long dark hair into a tighter ponytail, glancing at the forest several paces away. It must have been something in the air that night, but after taking a swig from the water bottle clipped to his sweatpants, he decided to press on. Another few minutes of running before heading home couldn’t hurt. It was a beautiful night and it felt like a shame not to enjoy it a little longer.

Loki continued jogging down the path into the forest. With the sun almost gone from the sky he couldn’t spend too much longer in the woods or he would never be able to see to get back, but the night’s breeze pulled him in, pushed him forward. He breathed in the refreshing air, the scent of pine and cedar filling his nose. It always felt good to be out of the house for any amount of time, but nights like these were what he lived for. If he was lucky, maybe he would even stumble upon some kind of paranormal activity. It seemed like the kind of night for that sort of thing.

The forest ahead of him lit up, suddenly. What appeared to be purple and blue lightning flashed through the trees and vanished just as soon as it appeared. Loki stopped in his tracks and blinked. His staying out late had actually payed off. There really was some kind of strange thing going on in the woods that night. He grinned and took off toward where he saw the lightning, hoping he wasn’t too late to catch sight of whatever it was that caused it.

What he stumbled upon was unexpected to say the least.

A girl stood over a cloud of smoke on the ground. She was small, but even in the dim light Loki could tell she wasn’t a child. Her eyes glowed blue in the twilight, the right more dimly than the left. Her long hair, azure from what he could make out, flowed and billowed out around her, like the smoke pooling at her feet. She wore a silver sleeveless trench coat that buttoned in an almost oriental style in the front, the inside of which was a deep purple. Loki had never seen a style quite like it. A teal turtleneck stuck out from the coat’s scooping neckline and a choker with a chain attached to it rested over the turtleneck’s collar. Black pants and shoes completed her ensemble with black fingerless gloves adorning her hands.

The chain around her shoulders was an odd thing for a person to wear and it drew Loki’s attention, the light glimmering off the silver metal as the girl cast her magic. Why would she wear something like that? Wasn’t it uncomfortable? At her side was a large canine looking animal. He would have called it a wolf if its fur had been normal colors, but it was blue and silver, like the girl, and Loki wondered if his eyes were just playing tricks on him.

It was then that Loki noticed the smoke on the ground was moving erratically and wasn’t smoke at all, but some kind of creature. It screeched as the girl ripped something out of it, the sound so loud and grating Loki needed to cover his ears. He cringed and moments later it was abruptly cut off, the creature evaporating in a puff of mist and smoke.

The girl then proceeded to eat whatever it was she pulled out of the thing in one gulp, a satisfied grin on her face.

Loki took an involuntary step back.

The sound of leaves and twigs crunching under Loki’s feet alerted Xennariel and Shakuran to his presence and he gulped as they turned to face him. His violet eyes met her glowing blue and he faltered, unsure of what to say or how to proceed.

Xennariel mentally cursed herself for not noticing a human watching her until it was too late. Lying her way out of this one would be impossible.

“You’re not human,” was all Loki could lamely manage to say. She certainly looked human, but no human could use magic like she had.

Xennariel smirked.

“Gee, what gave that away?” She noted his expression and her grin turned wicked. “Am I scary?” Loki’s eyes widened as she smiled back at him, head cocked slightly to the side. It was creepy and he shivered.

“I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous at all...” he muttered. Taking a deep breath, Loki composed himself as best he could and cleared his throat. He was treading on thin ice, but nerves alone weren’t enough to make him turn tail and run. There was an opportunity here and was going to take it. “Wouldn’t you try to keep that a secret, though? You were making quite the scene out here. I saw your magic or whatever it was all the way back at the entrance to the woods. Not a very effective way to keep people from noticing you.”

Shakuran let out a soft growl and Xennariel narrowed her eyes, practically growling herself. Any trace of humor was gone from her features.

“I could kill you where you stand.”

“But you won’t, right? That’s why you’re hunting those things instead of people, isn’t it?”

Loki was gambling with fate by bantering with, well, whatever she was. But meeting her could prove to be to his benefit. He had always wanted to be a part of the supernatural world. His father had books on the paranormal, magic texts that Loki couldn’t make heads or tails of when he was younger. It was fascinating and he wanted in on all of it. This girl could potentially offer him that. If he played his cards right...

Xennariel huffed and put her hands on her hips.

“Listen, if you so much as hint to anyone of what you’ve seen tonight--”

“I won’t,” Loki interrupted, his voice shaking with a tinge of fear and excitement. “As long as you let me go with you on these little adventures of yours.”

Xennariel blinked and furrowed her brow, wondering what exactly this human was thinking. Blackmailing a demon? Did he have no sense?

“Why would I possibly want to negotiate with you?”

“Because I can help you. I have connections, particularly with the military and law enforcement and research facilities across the country. If you want to hunt creatures like that smoke monster or whatever it was, it could make things easier. Not having to hide or worry about trouble with the law is pretty convenient.”

Loki was getting excited. Was he really doing this? Could he really pull this off? He wasn’t positive, but he sure as hell would try. Hopefully she wouldn’t kill him.

“How the hell could you have connections like that?”

“Well, it’s through my father, but they know me and trust me, no one wants to upset my father, so people will do whatever I say.”

Xennariel stared at him with a skeptical look and sighed. If that really was true, she could have access to areas where portals might be open. Access to information that could help her discover where these other demons were coming from. He might have been bluffing, but he very well might have been telling the truth. If the latter was true, could she really afford not to take him up on his offer? If it turned out that he was lying to her, she would kill him and no one would be the wiser. What did she have to lose?

“All right, all right, fine. I accept your deal. I do this,” Xennariel waved around her and at the ground where the shadow demon had disappeared, “whenever I happen to spot a shadow demon lurking about or whenever I hear about strange things in the area, which happens somewhat often.”

“Shadow demon? Is that what that thing is called?”

“Yeah. It comes from another world, as do most other ‘supernatural things,’ as you humans call it. That’s all you need to know.”

“I see… so, uh, where do I meet you when I want to join you?”

Xennariel huffed, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. She didn’t really want to tell him where she lived, but she didn’t have much of a choice at that moment.

“The Blue Rain Cafe, you know where that is?”

“Sure, I’ve seen it before.”

“Meet me there whenever, I guess. More often than not, I’ll be there.”

“Okay, but… why would you be in a place like that? Hiding out, or...?” Xennariel shot him a murderous glance and he raised his hands in a placating gesture. “All right, uh, until next time, then.”

Loki nodded at Xennariel, sent a wary glance toward Shakuran, and jogged off the way he had come, silently hoping the girl wouldn’t change her mind and send that huge dog of hers after him.

[cait-writes-stuff]

Change of Plans - Batmom POTUS

Part 1    Part 2   Part 3

AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9579392/chapters/21659414

“Ummi!” Damian said coming in the Oval Office. You stood up from behind your desk and wrapped him into a tight hug. A part of you missed the days your child would run into your arms without restraint but he was a full fledged teenager now. Those days were long since behind you. He had grown so much since you saw him last which made your heart ache.

“Ibni, you’ve grown.”  You greeted, tears threatening to well up in your eyes.

“The runt is going through a growth spurt.” Jason joked before enveloping you in a one armed hug. “Hi, Ma.”

“Be careful what you say Jason. Damian might grow up to be bigger than you one day.” You warned. He rolled his eyes and ruffled his shorter brother’s hair. Damian scowled and slapped his hand away before smoothing his hair back into the perfectly styled mess that it was before.

“Is your father with you?” You asked.

“Yeah he’s helping Dick and Tim with the luggage.” Jason explained.

“Oh you're all staying?” You asked.

“Yeah, we’ll be here for a week or two . . . or until the world comes to an end in our absence. You know, whichever comes first.” Jason shrugged casually.

“My money’s on the world ending.” You joked. You were just about to invite your sons to make themselves at home when your assistant knocked on the door and poked her head in.  

“Ma’am I’m so sorry to interrupt but Senator Williams is here for your meeting that you had scheduled today.” She announced apologetically.

“Is that the one that tried to block my business reform bill?” You asked.

“Yes Ma’am.” She replied.

“Any chance you could tell him to go stick it where the sun don’t shine?” You asked. You could vaguely hear Jason snickering to himself from where he sat on the couch. Damian jabbed him in the ribs to get him to silence him.

“Ma’am?”

“Don’t tell him that. I never said that.” You reassured the poor woman who was terrified that you were serious. “Tell him I’ll be with him in just a minute.” You instructed. She nodded and left the room.

“Alright boys, I’ve got some business to take care of but please feel free to make yourselves at home and I’ll find you when I’m done.” You said guiding your sons out of the office. “Stay out of trouble. Both of you.” You warned, giving them both pointed looks. They dutifully agreed and walked away in search of the rest of the family. You sat back down behind your desk and notified your secretary that you were ready for whatever bone the Senator wanted to pick now.

“Ah Madam President!” He greeted with a far too pleased grin.

“Senator, please sit.” You instructed motioning to the seat sitting in front of your desk. He took a seat but made no motion to speak his business. You sighed in annoyance. “Please Senator, my time is very precious so if you could please say what you need to say so that we can both get real work done today.”

“Well Madam President, I just came here to say that I’m looking forward to running against you in the next election.” He grinned.

“Pardon?” You asked with an intense arched eyebrow. You had the satisfaction of seeing the Senator flinching slightly.

“I’m surprised you haven’t heard about my candidacy yet, Madam. It’s all over the news. Now nothing has been confirmed yet but the rumor mill does like to turn with a bit of greasing.” The Senator taunted with a plastic smile.

“I don’t have nearly enough time in my day to waste it by watching television.” You retorted in an unimpressed tone.

“Be as it may I’m am very much looking forward to kicking your fucking socialist Jimmy Choo’s out of power Madam President.” He leaned forward and threatened.

“Tell me what you really think about me, Senator.” You said sarcastically, not ever flinching at the venomless snake. The two of you stared each other down for a few moments, the air feeling like there was an ax swinging between you two. The tension was cut when your secretary knocked on the door and stepped into your office.

“Ma’am, the Secretary of Defense is on the phone for you on line two. It’s urgent.” She said.

“Well Senator, that is my cue to bring this meeting to a close. It’s been a real pleasure, as always.” You smiled, your voice dripping with sarcasm. You guided the Senator out of your office and closed the door firmly behind him.

“Do I actually have the Secretary of Defense on the phone?” You asked your secretary.

“No Ma’am. I just figured you’d want the Senator out of your hair as soon as possible.” She replied truthfully. You sighed and gave her a look of eternal gratefulness.

“I knew there was a reason I hired you.” You smiled genuinely.

“Another thing Ma’am: The first family is waiting for you in the Red Room. You have a photo op scheduled at three but until then you are free . . . provided the country holds together long enough without you at the helm.” She said.

“What would I do without you?”

You immediately made your way to your family and spent as much time as you could afford with them. For a while you forgot you had an entire country resting on your shoulders and it felt like you were just spending time with your family. You missed this.

Enjoying a peaceful day with your family brought back thoughts of your future and your plans for what you hoped was a short lived political career. You saw your future back in Gotham with your kids and husband quickly fleeting away especially after your meeting with Senator Williams. If he was going to run you needed to ensure that he never get any real power. After the changes he tried to make to your reform bills you didn’t want to know what would be passed under his administration.

“Something’s bothering you.” Bruce said smoothing the worry lines on your face with his thumb. You sighed and sat up in bed. It was in the middle of the night and you and Bruce had spent some time reuniting but you are now having trouble sleeping.

“I’m the President of the United States. Something’s always bothering me.” You said dismissively.

“Anything you can talk about without breaching national security?” He asked with a humorous lilt to his voice.

“You remember that dickhole senator that tried to shove my business reform bill with environmental  deregulation clauses? He’s running for President.” You explained.

“Well . . . shit.” He he said.

“Yeah. Who knew being the President is fucking hard?” You commented dryly. You groaned and rested your head on Bruce’s shoulder. “What am I going to do, Bruce?” You groaned.

“It sounds to me like you think you should run for reelection.” He offered.

“Shit.” You swore. “I think so too.”

This fic was released previously on my Patreon page. Want immediate access to updates on this series? Become a patron today!

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[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

Villainous Heroics - Chapter 9

Boy howdy has it been a long week. School started back up for me and I was not prepared for the ass kicking it delivered, but here we are with the next chapter! This also marks the halfway point for this fic, so halfway there, everyone!

Oh, a quick thing to clear up about the time line - this chapter marks the after effects of the USJ event. Aizawa and Mic first met sometime in the fall/winter months of the last school year, before our own class 1-A. The time line is a little bit different since I pushed the USJ event back as compared to canon, but we should be on track now - roughly. I'll still be vague, but we're still in our first semester of U.A. with the month being around mid to late April.

Enjoy!

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Summary: Eraserhead is an underground hero who is constantly busy and doesn’t have time to be dealing with new villains - even if they aren’t all that villainous and make the night interesting.

Present Mic is the latest up-and-coming villain in the world and he has a point to prove to everyone out there - as long as he doesn’t keep getting distracted by Eraserhead.

Aizawa Shota is someone who soon learns that there is more to someone than the mask they show to the world - especially when it comes to playing heroes and villains.

Yamada Hizashi learns that there is more to heroics and villainy than he could have ever thought - especially in a world where some heroes still care about those lost in the shadows.

(Inspired and dedicated to corndog-patrol’s Villain!Mic AU on Tumblr.)

              <<First/Chapter>> <<Last Chapter>> <<Next Chapter>>

                                          Chapter Nine

The soft beams of spring sunlight fell into his room in leafed patterns, a warm breeze blowing pale blue curtains back from the open window. Golden sunlight and the bright yellow gifts on the stand next to his bed were the only bright colors in the room, everything else in muted and dimmed shades that made him unable to completely relax. Shota never had liked hospitals, and his inability to move even the smallest amount had him wanting to get up more and more as the moments ticked by. The only reason he hadn’t tried, yet, was because there were half hourly checks from doctors and nurses who had come to know him too well.

A soft knock on the door let him know that it was time for another check. Shota fought to not roll his eyes, instead keeping his gaze straight ahead. If it was another nurse or doctor, he might throw something, or at least attempt to. He’d had enough talks and warnings about what had happened to him during the USJ attack.

Instead of a doctor, though, he heard a familiar voice calling out a soft, “How are you doing?” Familiar heels had him glancing over to see that Nemuri was dressed outside of her hero costume, a soft sweater dress and red shawl paired with simple glasses. 

“Fine,” Shota replied after a moment, because, well, he was fine. He wasn’t at his best, but it could have been worse. He could have died instead of simply being rendered unconscious.

“If you say so,” Nemuri snorted, not sounding very believing. It was reassuring more than anything else that she wasn’t acting like he was on his deathbed like all his other visitors had been so far. Actually, now that Nemuri was here, he might finally get an answer to as to who had left the brightly colored gifts he had been staring at for the last few days.

“Who left these?” The bright yellow made him suspect All Might due to the man no doubt blaming himself for what had happened at USJ, but it didn’t quite seem like his style. The flowers were disgustingly yellow, after all.

“Don’t tell me you of all people can’t tell,” Nemuri laughed, quiet and bright, as she plucked the card off the stand and opened it up. The inside had a doodle of a screaming cat with hearts around it, the other side reflecting a message to get well soon.

“Idiot,” Shota muttered, turning away to attempt to hide the fact his face was no doubt looking as flushed as it felt. Even after he had said the worst he could and avoided his usual route to try and get ‘Present Mic’ to stop endangering himself, the man had still sent him flowers and a get-well card. Fuck, he was absolutely smitten.

“Mhm, and there’s more,” Nemuri half-sang, tone teasing as she shut the card and flipped it over to the back. “He managed to cram a lot of writing onto this thing, you know. He also has horrible handwriting.”

“Get to the point.” There was more? It was probably something sickeningly sweet - or worse. Maybe having Nemuri read it wasn’t a good idea. “Or set it down already.”

“Too late!” Nemuri chirped. “He wants you to know that he’ll be taking over your patrol route until you get better.” Present Mic what? “It seems he found out about this whole thing on the news. Oh, poor thing, he must have been distraught.”

“‘Poor thing?’ Since when did you get so fond of him?” Shota finally looked back to Nemuri, frowning a bit at the almost serious look on her face. “Nemuri.”

“Well, remember when you gave me your patrol and I told you nothing had happened? I might have lied just a teensy bit.” Nemuri gave a fake smile and Shota felt his heart plummet into his stomach.

“Nemuri. What did you do?” He had given his patrol over to Midnight because his presence only seemed to encourage Mic. He was trying to steer him away from doing any villainy, but maybe Midnight had been the wrong choice in hero.

“I just put him to sleep when he was causing trouble! I didn’t even take him to the police station or anything!” Nemuri defended, looking as if she was being accused of some great crime. “You said he had a voice quirk, but I didn’t take that to mean that he could level an entire city block-”

“He did what?” It wasn’t that Shota hadn’t realized how powerful Mic’s quirk was, but he had never really used it. There was no way he had the power to level a block, though.

“That was my reaction! I looked around the whole area and at least five buildings were completely destroyed down to the ground and the windows in a mile radius were shattered. He was waiting up on a roof near the epicenter for… Well, for you.”

Since it was only Nemuri in the room, Shota allowed himself to slump even further against his bed, groaning quietly. Of course Mic had done something like that just to get his attention. “He was trying to prove a point.” He had been trying to prove he could be a villain. “Did he say anything before you knocked him out?”

“He certainly put up a fight,” Nemuri huffed, crossing her arms and being careful not to bend the card. Shota was more thankful about that than he wanted to be. “He probably could have fought me off if he hadn’t realized what my quirk was too late.”

“Told you.” Mic was clever and he could keep up with Shota night after night. He had probably been taken by surprise where he hadn’t expected Midnight to show up. “So, you took him by surprise?”

“Of course. He was a bit of a dolt,” Nemuri said, a laugh to her words before she met Shota’s gaze. “He said to tell you that it wasn’t a game.” This time, Shota’s stomach felt like it was missing as much as All Might’s was. “Shota?”

“I think I made a mistake, Nemuri.” It had seemed logical. It was the most logical idea to force Mic to become aware of the truth and then remove himself from the situation entirely. It had been perfect. Present Mic would have died a quiet death and whoever he truly was would be free to find some avenue of life that didn’t end with pain and a mistake he could never come back from. This, though…

Mic had made a stand and proved that he wasn’t going to be pushed back into the role of a civilian who was forced to do nothing except to watch. He had attempted to make the world watch and had insisted that it all hadn’t been a game. To him, it probably wasn’t. Present Mic wasn’t an idiot. He had been trying to garner attention - and the easiest way to get attention these days was to be a hero, or… Shit.

“I’m sure you didn’t make a mistake you can’t fix,” Nemuri finally said, waving the card around. “I mean, he sent you flowers and a get-well card. Here, listen to his.” Nemuri flipped to the back of the card again, clearing her throat, “‘Someone has to watch out for the kids trapped in this place.’ See? He’s taking care of it all so you can have a rest. Like I said, he’s definitely a vigilante.”

Shota stared at Nemuri and the card before blinking slowly, trying to calmly sort out his thoughts and feelings before he gave a slow nod. “Nemuri.” The woman leaned to her right, looking ready to run for the door. “You were right.”

“Oh? Of course! Ah, but just to be certain, what was I right about this time?” Nemuri watched him and Shota couldn’t bring himself to do much more than to look over at the flowers. He was almost grateful for the bandages that covered his face and the no doubt sickening expression that was forming. “Oh- Oh! You really do have feelings for him!”

Nemuri’s cackling laughter was almost more reassuring than it was annoying, Shota sighing and watching the golden sunlight start to fade and make way for soft, cool blues. The bright yellow flowers and card seemed to warm his room just fine, though.

                                                              ::

Shota stood by his decision to return to the school as quickly as possible, but unlike some people seemed to think, he wasn’t unaware of the limitations of his body, especially after all that had happened to it. His healing sessions with Recovery Girl were slow going and, with his insomnia and sleeping problems, only so much of his body could be healed at one time. The result was a constant state of exhaustion and pain that never seemed to leave.

He had taken to sleeping on the couch most nights, too tired and sore to make it to his bedroom. The only bright side was that falling asleep on the couch often meant he could catch snippets of Present Mic’s radio show when he had the energy to stay conscious. The weekly show was still midnight to five on Friday nights through the next morning on Saturday, but Shota caught bits and pieces of his voice throughout the weeknights, as if he couldn’t stop himself from being on the radio as much as possible.

He would have been a good radio host, Shota mused. There were so many stats and ratings and changing news on heroes and villains, Shota could easily see the need and use of a radio station designed for it all. Mic would have run it wonderfully, he was sure.

The one good thing about being confined to his apartment was that he had plenty of time to catch up on grading homework and work on his case files. The largest was, without a doubt, the open case on Trigger. There were multiple heroes and police officers working on it, but Shota seemed to have taken on the brunt of it.

Working while listening to Mic’s show, though, was what made him realize just who the ‘anonymous source’ was that was turning in the many dealers and users associated with Trigger. That man was turning out to be something else entirely. He also didn’t seem to know when to stop pushing himself.

“Sorry for that last interruption, dear listeners! It’s been a busy week for me, here, but I can promise that you’re not getting rid of me quite yet - although the police and heroes are welcome to try!” The expected cackle full of wild energy was instead a quiet, strained laugh that showed just how thin the man had been stretching himself. The USJ attack must have shaken him up as much as it did the rest of the world. Never before had children training to be heroes come so close to dying. “Alright, dear listeners, let’s take some requests and get your jam session for the night underway!”

Absently tapping his pencil against the edge of his work, Shota stared at his radio as he listened to Mic’s voice. He knew that he himself had a problem with wearing himself thin, but Mic sounded like he had passed that point long ago. Considering the news stories coming out about his own involvement in USJ, it was possible Mic thought that Eraserhead was dying.

“I suppose there’s nothing for it,” Shota sighed, scratching at Jelly’s head and smiling at her loud purrs. “The chocolates weren’t the worst thing, after all.”

It hadn’t been until the casts on his arms had come off that he had been able to open the gift left by Present Mic, but once he had, he had found a collection of dark chocolates that were filled with caffeine. They had been surprisingly good, and Shota supposed that deserved a small thank you, or at least, the knowledge that Shota was fine and Eraserhead would soon be back at work and kicking Mic’s ass during his ‘villainous attempts.’

Dialing up the number he had, regrettably, memorized, Shota waited until he heard the dual sound of Mic greeting him both on the radio and through the phone, “Yo, dear listener, you’re on with Present Mic! What’s your song request for the evening!” Ah. Right. Song request. Hm…

“Play that song you sang when you kidnapped me.” There was absolute silence from both phone and radio, Shota frowning as he pulled his phone back enough to check if the call was still going.

“Eraserhead!” There were the loud sounds of objects breaking and crashing to ground that was soon followed by Mic swearing loudly at the fact that it seemed his quirk has slipped. It was… cute- Shit. Nemuri listened to Mic’s shows, too, and she could recognize his voice. Nevermind the fact that Mic had just screamed his name over his show. “You’re alive! Holy shit, you’re actually alive and okay and not dead!”

“If you were a sanctioned broadcast you would have been shut down by now,” Shota drawled, pleased he didn’t have to hide his smile at the fact Mic was swearing and cursing over live air. “You’re also an idiot if you think I’m going to die from a few thugs with inflated egos.”

“You’re… actually okay.” The breath that Mic released sounded like it had carried weeks of tension. Shota found himself feeling bad for the stress he had caused the man - even if it was unintentional. “Wait, did you actually call in to request a song?”

“What other reason would I have to call in?” Shota hung up before he could say something incriminating, hating himself for the smile he could feel on his face at Mic’s laughter - wild and loud and bright and filling up every inch of his apartment. 

“Well, listeners, next up is a requested song that I’m dedicating to my favorite listener. I expect to see you back out on the streets soon, hero.” The song that was imprinted across his memories started up and Shota relaxed back into the couch, gently scratching Jelly’s back as he sighed and closed his eyes for a moment.

He was in far too deep with Present Mic. It was almost a shame that he couldn’t even bring himself to regret one moment of it.

                                                               ::

“Aw, come on, Eraser, you’re so grumpy tonight! I think we need to erase that bad attitude!” Fukukado Emi, better known as the hero Ms. Joke, burst into laughter that made Shota want to lose his hearing altogether. He could only be grateful that he didn’t need to waste his energy using his quirk to stop her own. Even she knew better than to use her quirk on him when they were out on an active patrol.

“You’re noisy,” Shota muttered, trailing along behind her as they walked the streets. He would usually take the rooftops, but Joke had never quite been able to keep up with him that way. The nights they and their agencies partnered together usually meant his feet stayed on the ground.

“C’mon, eraser! Just go on a date with me!” Weeks of recovery, days of arguing that he was ready, and long, tedious hours of reassuring Nemuri, and Shota had finally been allowed back on patrol. He was then chained to Joke because, he assumed, everyone hated him. “I know you’re not busy this weekend!”

“Drop it, Joke.” He wasn’t ‘busy’ because Nemuri was practically forcing him to take more breaks until his body fully recovered. He was feeling his exhaustion, now, but he had a feeling that was more to do with Joke than anything else.

“Oh, I see how it is, Eraserhead.” Head snapping up at the familiar voice, Shota startled as he saw Present Mic standing a few feet away from them. The man looked… wrong. His entire stance was closed off and his face was blank of emotion. What the hell had happened? He had been fine on his last radio show. “Just tell me… What does she have that I don’t?!”

Present Mic, it seemed, was an ugly crier. He was also an absolute idiot because he was now sobbing over, what Shota assumed, was the ‘fact’ that he and Joke of all people were in a relationship. He honestly felt like he was losing brain cells the longer he tried to wrap his head around that thought. Finally, though, he managed to say the first words he had spoken to Mic since the last time they had seen each other, “Well, brains, for a start.”

“Wait- Wait, wait, wait, this is Present Mic!” Joke was beaming, looking between the two before Shota saw an evil glint enter her eyes that reminded him far too much of Nemuri. “You’re the one Eraser is always talking about, right! The funny, cute one with the radio show?” Nemuri, that rat.

“I’m what?” Mic’s crying stopped at once, the man blinking at them with wide, startled eyes. Shota wished, with everything in him, that his quirk allowed him to sink into the earth and disappear.

“Yeah, yeah! Even I’ve heard a lot about you. Man, Eraser, no wonder you keep rejecting my date offers when you have your eye on this guy.”

“I do not-”

“You talk about me!” The smile… was so bright. Shota had always thought it ridiculous to describe people in comparison to objects or nature, but, well, looking at Mic’s smile was like looking at sunlight.

“I mention you,” Shota finally conceded, watching with detached horror as Mic and Joke proceeded to laugh, bond, and become the best of friends within ten minutes. It seemed that Joke had not only betrayed his trust, but that Shota would never be able to live this night down.

                                                            ::

“Well then, hero, how goes the day?” It had taken a better part of the night, but Shota had finally managed to separate Mic and Joke from becoming blood siblings. He was still trying to figure out when exactly that had ended with him and Mic sitting on top of a roof, legs swung over the side.

“Shouldn’t it be night?” Shota raised an eyebrow, keeping a blank face at Mic’s quiet, soft laugh. It was harder than he would have thought to not smile. “I’m fine. Nobody’s yet to believe me when I say that, though.”

“For good reason, I’d think. You looked like a mummy the last time I saw you on the news. It… It didn’t look good, Eraser. The media has been having a field day about the attack at that U.A. training field.”

“I’m aware.” The media hadn’t spared any force when it came to ripping into the heroes for their inability to stop the attack before it happened. The world always had its eyes on the hero schools, and Japan had a spotlight on U.A. To see the children attacked and even All Might almost losing? It was a sobering reality. “We’ll recover.”

“You, Eraser, are too much of what a hero should be.” At the sharp, bitter laugh, Shota glanced over. Mic had removed his speaker and had his headphones resting around his neck, hearing aids clear to see with the way his hair was styled. Shota was still trying to figure out how the man could handle ear piercings when wearing hearing aids and headphones. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

“There are some that would agree with you,” Shota finally said, looking back down to the streets below them. “What’s the point of having the power to help, though, if we don’t.”

“You’re something else, hero.” Twitching at the name a bit, Shota looked back to Mic and felt guilt clawing at him as it had been since he had heard about Mic’s encounter with Nemuri. “Oh? That’s not a good look. You know, you could give a guy the wrong-”

“I’m sorry.” Hm. It looked like he had finally found a way to shut Mic up. Of course it came at the expense of his pride, but, well… This was more important than pride. “I don’t regret the intent behind my words, but I do regret how I phrased them. I’m also sorry that it took so long to give you the apology you deserved.”

“Ah, jeez, I- No, you don’t have to-” Mic fumbled with his words for a moment, finally groaning as he rubbed at his eyes. “It’s not like anything you were saying was wrong.”

“Can you repeat that? I want to make sure you realize you just said you were wrong, and I was right.” There was a punch to his shoulder that had him giving a quiet huff of laughter, Mic perking up at the sound. “Still. What I said was cruel.”

“If it hadn’t been you then it would have been someone else, eventually. I’m willing to pretend it never happened if you are, though.” Mm. That seemed irresponsible. “That a yes?”

“Sure.” The two were quiet for a moment - something Shota still couldn’t believe Present Mic was capable of. Finally, though, he broke the silence with the question that had been on his mind since they saw each other earlier, “Are you going to tell me what’s still bothering you? You haven’t even made an attempt at causing trouble, tonight.”

“Ah, you’re too smart for me, Eraserhead,” Mic sighed, loud and dramatic. He was hiding, but Shota didn’t know what - yet. “That attack… The USJ attack they’re calling it?”

“Unoriginal, but accurate,” Shota snorted, giving a nod. “What about it? I already told you I was fine. The kids are, too.”

“No, it’s not… Someone approached me right before the attack. He said he wanted me to join a ‘party’ he and his friends throwing. He then implied that there was a way to bring down All Might… I don’t know if they were working with that Trigger dealer, but they know the same circles.”

“How could you tell?” This was serious, then. If there was overlap between all these groups, then what was the common thread? It had to be more than just a spike in villain activity.

“‘A league onto their own.’ A familiar phrase, right?” It was the phrase that dealer had said over Mic’s show. “The dealer and this guy both phrased it exactly like that.”

“There’s an organization to it all, then.” That meant more work, and it also meant more danger. Gangs and groups were one thing, but organized villainy to the extent of what happened at USJ… Shota couldn’t help but feel that those villains he had seen in the center of it all had something to do with it. The man covered in hands and the monster that had almost defeated All Might.

“I should have accepted that offer.” That had him startling, Mic’s voice flat and serious, “I should have accepted so I could have been there. I could have- Shit, I could have done something. There’s a chance you wouldn’t have been hurt so bad if I was there-”

“And there’s a chance that nothing would have changed,” Shota said, cutting him off before he could spiral into whatever dark thoughts were picking away at him. “Your appearance could have made a difference, but then you’d be in a jail cell for longer than a week. Besides, I’m fine.”

The movement was slow and cautious, but Shota still found himself unable to react as Mic’s hand settled on his cheek, a rough and calloused thumb brushing against the scar that was now under his right eye. “You, my hero, are in no way fine,” Mic said softly, voice quiet and wrecked. “You could have died.”

“I…” He had done his best not to think about it. Shota had been doing his absolute best not to think about it, but… he really could have. It was nothing short of a miracle and his own stubbornness that he was still here. “And leave you to run rampant? I’d be a poor hero, in that case.”

“Mm. I suppose we can’t have that.” The thumb pressed against the scar for a moment, Mic’s skin dragging against his own and causing a new, unfamiliar feeling that had Shota shuddering with a hitch of his breath. “You’ll be the end of me, hero.”

Mic’s voice was as soft and warm as his touch, bright green eyes staring at him with something that Shota was too afraid to even begin to name. As he stared at this man who had called himself a villain and yet proved himself the opposite, Shota couldn’t help but realize the truth.

Maybe he would be the end of Mic, but he knew without a doubt that this man would be the end of him.