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barefoot-joker · 8 months

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Snake in the Garden~Yandere! Lucifer X Reader

Hey, guys! I hope you all are well! Today I bring you a Yandere! Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) story. I do apologize if he's OOC, I tried to make him a bit suave. I hope you enjoy and have a great day/night!

Words: 2105

Warnings: Snakes, Kidnapping, Swearing

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

I hummed as I slipped on my straw hat and sandals. Today was gardening day and I was very excited to be outside. My garden was my passion. It was something to look forward to each day after work. It was especially nice in the eighty degree weather we were having, cool breezes making it bearable to be outside.

Grabbing my metal bucket with my shears, trowel, and gloves, I made my way out the back door of my house. My neighbor Terry was sitting on his porch rocking in his chair, basking in the sunshine. When he saw me he waved. “Yello, Y/n! Enjoying the day?”

“Of course! How about you Mr. Johnson?”

“Oh you know, just taking a sunbath while the wife is out grocery shopping. If you catch my drift.”

“Perfectly.”

“Well have fun, little lady!”

“Will do, thank you!”

I gave a simple wave and headed towards my small garden. It wasn’t the most spectacular thing, only having five or six rows of vegetables, but I was so proud of my little paradise. I set my bucket down and walked down the row of beans, inspecting each one. My humming continued as I began picking and gently setting the vegetables in my pail. As I was working I heard something hissing. Confused, I looked around and didn’t see anything. I turned back to my work. It was silent for a moment until the hissing continued. I glanced around when suddenly my eyes caught sight of something white in the bushes. I stood up and walked over, pushing the foliage to the side. I gasped when I saw a white snake, its pale pink underbelly had a large gash. I slowly reached down and stroked its back. The snake turned its head, the red eyes staring me down. “Hey there, little fellow. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt ya.”

As I continued to stroke its back, the snake must have understood my message. “Let’s get you patched up, little guy.”

I gently grabbed a hold and made sure to cradle him close. Walking back inside, I set him in my kitchen sink and went to grab supplies. I made my way to the bathroom where I grabbed some gauze and disinfectant from a cupboard. I then returned back to the kitchen. I lifted my scaly friend to flip him over and started to rub some disinfectant on his gash. I grabbed some paper towel and dabbed it dry. “Almost done, little fellow.”

Ripping off some gauze, I carefully wrapped it around the wound. Tying it off, I sealed it with a kiss from the fingertips. “And, all done! Not my best work, but it’ll do.”

The snake’s tongue flicked out in appreciation. “You know what? I think I’ll name you Red. You know, after your very beautiful red eyes!”

The white snake hissed and slithered closer to the edge of the sink. I picked him up and cuddled him close as we walked back outside. When we made it to my garden I gently let him down before I went back to work. Red stayed the whole time I was outside, slithering alongside me. When it was my time to head inside, I said my goodbyes and watched him slither back into the bushes.

After my run in with Red I would see him every time I entered my garden. I would lay out some greenery for him to eat and some water to drink all the time. He would even wrap himself around my arms as I worked. One day as I was preparing my small table, Red came out of the bushes as per usual. He slithered up my leg and I couldn’t help but giggle. “Red, that tickles! Stop! I have to get this ready!”

He just stayed there. “You silly boy.”

I caressed the top of his head and set up my nice (favorite color) tablecloth. Just as I was placing two mugs down, I heard a male voice call my name. Red slid off my leg and curled down by the table leg. I turned to see my boyfriend s/o standing at my back door. “S/o!”

I ran at him and gave a big hug. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

“Me too. We’ve been planning this little lunch date for a while.”

I led him over to the table and we sat. “I made us some tea. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not, honey. You know I’m down to try anything.”

We both took a sip from our cups. “So, how has your garden been going?”

“Pretty well actually. All of my vegetables have been thriving, which is nice. I even met a new friend!”

“A new friend? Well I’d love to meet them.”

“Hold on one second.”

I leaned under the table and gently picked up my snake buddy. “This is Red. Isn’t he gorgeous? I’ve never seen a snake with a pink underbelly before.”

“Me neither. Can I see him?”

“Of course!”

I started to hand him over when suddenly Red struck forward and sunk his fangs into S/o’s hand. “Ow! God dammit that hurt!”

“Red!”

I set him down and gently took my boyfriend’s hand. “Are you alright?”

“No, your fucking snake bit me!”

I sucked on my teeth. “It does look bad. Here, let’s take you to the clinic.”

We stood up and walked to my car. I had him sit in the passenger seat while I drove.

Hours later I had dropped off S/o at his apartment. We had gotten him some antibiotics and luckily Red wasn’t poisonous. Thank god. I sighed as I slipped off my shoes and walked into my living room. I was looking at the floor when suddenly I let out a gasp. Standing staring at some of the photos on my wall was a short man, his back towards me. From what I could see he wore a big white hat, white and red jacket, white puffy pants and tall black boots. At the sound of me entering, the man turned and I couldn’t help but let out another gasp. The stranger had white skin, short blonde hair and red circles on his cheeks. His red eyes were quite striking as they seemed to stare into my soul. “Ah Y/n, you’re back! Jolly good.”

“W-who are you?”

A black cane with an apple on top magically appeared and the man gave a theatrical bow. “How rude of me. My name is Lucifer dear, but you’re probably more familiar with calling me Red.”

“R-red? But you’re a person and he was a snake…wait a minute. Lucifer? As in the Devil?”

He let out a dark chuckle and I stepped back upon seeing the two rows of sharp teeth. “Exactly!”

I gulped and ran off, trying to head for my front door. I screamed when he appeared in front of me, but this time dressed in green. I bolted towards my back door but he reappeared, this time in red. A few more Lucifers in different colored clothes surrounded me, parting to let the original through. “Look Mr. Satan sir, I didn’t summon you, nobody sacrificed me, nothing like that! Why don’t you just return to Hell and forget this ever happened!”

His cane came up under my chin and lifted my head to look into his eyes. “And forget the lovely lady that helped me? Not a chance! I was lucky I stumbled upon you that day. You see, I had gotten into a fight with a contractor and he got quite a few hits in. I got away with a stomach wound and that’s when I slithered into your life. You patched me up and made me whole!”

His face got closer to mine as he told his tale, our noses almost touching. “You’re so intoxicating, dear. Just like the apple I offered to Eve.”

My breath hitched as his lips got close. “Okay, I helped you. Now why can’t you just go away?”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“Why not? Please, leave me alone.”

A few tears collected in the corners of my eyes and he was quick to wipe them away. “I’ll explain in due time. But I’ve wasted enough time. We need to get going.”

“Going?”

“Yes! You’re coming to Hell with me!”

My eyes widened and I attempted to flee. His arm wrapped around my waist and with the other he waved his cane in the air. Golden dust began to accumulate on the floor, swooshing around and around until a portal formed. The arm around my waist forced me to walk with him. He threw his cane into the air and like magic it disappeared. “Now this may cause a slight headache but I’ll be sure to tend to it when we arrive.”

“No please-”

“In we go!”

He forced us to jump forward and I let out a shriek. I tightly closed my eyes and my stomach lifted into my throat as we fell. This feeling stayed until I landed on something soft. My body was tense as I slowly opened my eyes. It seemed we had landed in a foyer of sorts. The large marble fireplace had a roaring blaze going and from what I could see out the large Victorian windows it was night outside. The dark red clouds swirled like my nerves as I watched Lucifer fluff his jacket. He turned to me and smiled. “I apologize if I frightened you, my dear. It wasn’t my intention. I know first time portal jumping can be quite tedious.”

He adjusted his hat before sitting next to me on the deep red velvet chaise lounge. “Now then I know you skipped lunch since you took your little boy toy to the hospital, so how about some dinner? I can cook a mean steak!”

The situation was starting to be too much to handle and I couldn’t help the sobs that wracked my body. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. Shh, shh. There, there.”

Lucifer wrapped his arms around me in a hug and I could feel his claws combing my hair. “It’s alright, little apple. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

He just made me cry harder. “I just want to go home!”

“This is your home now. I know it’ll take some getting used to, but I promise if you give Hell a chance you’ll forget all about silly Earth and that wretched boyfriend of yours.”

His claws dug in a bit when he brought up S/o. It made me shudder. “But he doesn’t matter anymore. I’m here for you and that’s most important.”

He pulled away slightly to wipe at my eyes, his touch gentle compared to before. “You know what will cheer you up? A nice cup of spiced hot cocoa! I’ll be right back.”

He stood and made his way towards the white door. Before leaving he gave me a smile. “Don’t go anywhere.”

The door shut softly. As soon as he was gone I quickly looked around trying to find an exit. I spotted a door opposite me. I ran to it, threw it open, and rushed out of the room. My legs carried me far as I dashed through the spiraling halls, rushing down a grand staircase, and arriving at what I assumed was the front door. I yanked them open and before I could step out an angry hiss made me pause. Two large golden snakes sat on the doorstep and stared me down harshly. I slammed the door shut and urged myself to breathe slower. “I see you’ve met David and Goliath.”

My head shot up to see Lucifer standing there without his jacket, a faint smirk on his lips. “Why the heck do you have giant snakes on your property?!”

“To protect us. Being the rulers of Hell comes with a target on your back.”

“What do you mean rulers?”

“I brought you here for a reason, Y/n, silly goose!”

He began walking towards me. “I intend to court you and make you my Queen. I’ve been alone for seven years. My wife and I split and my daughter and I don’t have the best relationship. However, I intend to rectify that, my sweet apple. You and I are going to be together forever.”

He stopped in front of me and held my face in his hands, thumbs gently rubbing my cheekbones. My heart sank as I realized I wasn’t getting out of this any time soon and the look of adoration in Lucifer’s eyes made that fact.

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stararch4ngelqueen · 1 year

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High-Rise Melancholy

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Time Written-11:23 a.m. (Pt.1 )

Jason Todd/fem!reader angst

—

A sharp clash of painted porcelain smashes against the doorway you almost crossed, shattering the thick plastic light switch frame.

An involuntary yelp left your lips from the sharp sound of impact, watching the fragments of what was once your indigo blue, gold star and moon coffee mug, once full of sleepy time tea, scatter the ground in seconds.

Wide eyes meet yours, the culprit of throwing the mug peering back at you with eyes much wider than yours behind his mask.

The bedroom was laced in silence, the tension elevated into high alarm. Static laced his tongue once he realized what he’d done, the idea of harming you bringing his knees to nearly buckle.

He swore you weren’t standing there a second ago, what was he thinking? He nearly hit you, he almost—

“GET OUT!!” He shouts, screaming into the flames of the chaos he caused. Your eyes grew wider, your feet nearly stumbling back as you retreated. Enraged, milky eyes grew close as he stomped forward, trembling hands grasping hold onto the edges of the door.

“GO! GET THE— GET THE FUCK OUT!!” His raised voice cuts short once he slams the door in your face, preventing you from seeing him crumble any further.

Out of the eighty six to ninety percent change you had to seeing him in this manner, it never got any easier. He’d shut down, he’d throw things, he’d shout so loud it would concern the neighbors.

However, as Batman abides by his unique, golden rules of logic, Jason’s was much more simple:

He’d never, ever raise a hand to you. Ever.

You wait in the kitchen for nearly ten minutes, lit up by the warm glow of the stove light. A fresh cup of tea waited for you, alongside a mug of strong coffee. Your boyfriend locked himself into your shared bedroom, your inaccessible phone laying abandoned on its charger on your bedside table.

You couldn’t check up on him like this, no matter how much you wanted to. He needed space, needing a minute to calm down, however long that minute would end up taking.

You were in the kitchen when he came home, dressed in plaid sweatpants and his red hoodie with a box of pancake mix in your hand, moments away from preparing an early breakfast before he’d sleep in until late in the afternoon.

Maybe it was your mistake. You heard the difference in his heavy footsteps when he returned this morning. Heavy, dirty soles scraping against hard wood floor in frustrating stomps, rather than exhausted drags.

You probably shouldn’t have treaded behind him with strong concern, wanting to make sure he was alright, preparing to dote on him if needed. You would say you’ve gotten better at it, but after this, you felt thrown back towards square one.

He’s tired, he’s angry. He just needs a minute.

You force yourself to think this, trying to keep your composure as your eyes peer down at Jason’s coffee, your fingertips settled on the warmth of the mug contrasting against the cold countertop.

Eventually, the faint click of your bedroom door was heard down the short hallway before comes to you. The softest creaks of the wood gave way once his socked feet transfer towards cold tile before warm arms encasing you in a deep embrace.

The faint smell of wet dirt, rain water and petrichor flood your senses, his sweat damp hair tickling behind your ear as he tucks his head against the valley of your neck in silent shame.

“M’sorry,” His tired, weak voice ripples against your skin, the voice of a weak, little boy coming forth inside the body of a grown man. “Didn’t mean to. Didn’t mean to hurt you—“

“You didn’t,” your wavering voice cuts him off, to his dismay at what he assumed was your denial. “Jason, don’t say that, you didn’t hurt me-“

“I almost did!” He insists, hot trembling breath fanning along your neck whilst his broad, jacket shrouded arms squeezed you tighter. “I swear! I-I wasn’t thinking, I.. I wasn’t—“

He cuts himself off, his chest heaving with his increased breathing. You try to take the opportunity to turn yourself, feeling his arms hesitate in their tight grasp once he realized what you were trying to do.

His shoulders tremble as he contemplates you seeming him like this. No, he didn’t want you to even look at him, but you were just as stubborn as he was with persistence.

Jason’s head rose off your shoulder, keeping himself turned towards the side as you finally face him. You didn’t need to look into his eyes to see how frustrated with himself he was, the angry, shameful tears leaving thick tracks down his chiseled cheeks.

Dark bags outlined his sockets, tired wrinkles crowning the corners of his pink, flushed eyes.

“Jason,” his name softly rolled off your tongue, making the man sniffle after he lowers his avoided gaze.

Your arms snugly wrap around his neck, your hand cradling his head towards your shoulder. His muscles remained stiff three seconds longer before melting, fat tears seeping into the shoulder of your hoodie.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, baby.” His weak voice trembles, scattered breath steaming against the damp fabric. Please, don’t be angry with me.

You’d never be angry with him. You trust him to never hurt you.

“I forgive you,” came your gentle reply, but it would take a while for the shame to slip off his nerves. For now, you held the tall, large man against your frame, quietly comparing him to a ridiculously large teddy bear you’d win at a boardwalk carnival.

“I’ll get you another mug,” he murmurs against your neck, making you huff out an amused breath.

“We have a hundred more in the cabinets,” you mused, referring to your thrift store of a stock that took up two shelf spaces.

“I-“ he tried to speak again, thinking of some other way he could possibly apologize for his outburst, but you weren’t gonna have it.

“Jason, enough,” You cradle his face, wanting to kiss all his tears away straight from the source. “It’s okay. I’m okay, you’re okay. Okay?”

A small part of you wants to smile at how many times that word has been repeated, but it was a chisel on a block of ice when it came to Jason. A warmed chisel, hoping to strike an impact on his troubled mind faster than anything else.

He’d let you break him harder than he broke your possessions, even when it was never intentional. He’d let you harm him worse than he ever did towards the criminals, the ‘so-called victims’ from his Lazarus youth.

He’d watch your hand raise, yet it never struck, it soothed. When he believed everything in his new life grew more hateful and cruel, the graze of your fingertips remained subtly sweet. Pure autumn honey and warm milk for his battered soul.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” you settle, running your fingers through his sweat curled locks nearly flattened down along the top of his head. The consequences of wearing a helmet for many hours at a time.

“Go take a shower. I’ll make you those cinnamon roll pancakes you like, then you can get some sleep. Okay?”

A tinge of a smile formed on the corner of his lip, albeit temporary, it was still visible.

“Okay.”

#Jason Todd #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #dc jason todd #jason todd x gender neutral reader #jason todd x y/n #jason peter todd #I can make cinnamon roll pancakes #he likes them he told me himself #in case anyone noticed #I’m not happy with Gotham War #Gotham War

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clarisse0o · 2 months

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Camp Wiegman-Part 27

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words: 6k

Masterlist

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Thursday, December 24th; 4:30 PM - Home.

Tonight is Christmas Eve, and on this festive day, we decided to help Sam out in the kitchen. Joan came up with the idea, and Mapi and I agreed. It seemed like the best way for us to keep busy and distract ourselves. Sam was skeptical at first, but he couldn't refuse our help considering the mountain of work awaiting him. Surprisingly, we're not doing too badly for people who never cook. The only thing I can claim to make successfully is pasta, and even then, it's debatable. I've always had professionals like Sam to cook for me since I was old enough to be in the kitchen. As for my childhood, my mother wasn't particularly present to bake with me. She was the type to prioritize her job. Today, though, I'm actually enjoying cooking. Sam took charge to make things easier for us. He put Mapi and me in charge of the appetizers and took my little brother under his wing for the dessert. For the appetizers, he planned to make small finger foods and toasts. We started with the finger foods so they could bake in the oven while we prepared the toasts.

"You're seriously stingy! Look at how little cheese you put!"

"And you look at the mountain of it you've used!" I retorted.

"Better too much than not enough!"

"You should check what we still have left to do. Look, it won't be enough!"

Cooking will always be difficult, especially if I have to team up with Mapi. We can never find a middle ground.

"Hey girls, that's enough," Sam teases.

Mapi sticks her tongue out at me. I giggle and shake my head. It's amazing that Sam hasn't gone crazy yet. We've been like this since we started. He must have realized we're just bickering for fun. At least we're no longer playing with the food. I thought he was going to strangle us when he caught us having a mini food fight while prepping the little puff pastries.

"Do you think we could put poison in some of these?" I whispered to Mapi.

"I heard that, Ona, and it's out of the question!" Sam reprimands me.

"Is that why you wanted to cook?" she laughs. "I'm sure your uncle Cage would be thrilled."

"He's not my uncle," I replied curtly.

"He will be by marriage if your mom ever marries Marcus."

I pull a face, which doesn't go unnoticed by Mapi, who bursts out laughing. She gives me a sympathetic nudge. I'm glad my mom allowed Mapi to stay with us for the holidays. At least I'll have company among this bunch of idiots. I don't like my "new" family, and I'm not one to be two-faced. At least my mom was kind enough to invite my grandfather from Portugal by getting him a plane ticket. I wouldn't have liked the idea of him being alone for Christmas. He should be arriving soon. Hector left to pick him up at the airport a little while ago.

"Are you almost done?" Sam asks us.

"Almost," I replied.

"You're so slow! We're already done!"

I look at my brother, outraged, as he grins from ear to ear. I get up to catch him before he can escape and torture him with tickles. He laughs and wriggles around, trying to get free. I stop only when I think it's enough. Finally, I pick him up and place him on my lap when I sit back down. He helps us finish the last of the toasts. Sam pitches in as well to wrap things up faster.

"Who would've thought I'd see this one day... My granddaughter cooking."

"Grandpa!"

"Hey, Grandpa Batlle," Mapi greets him.

I put Joan on my chair and go give him a hug. He gladly accepts my embrace, holding me tightly. I see him so rarely during the year that I cherish every moment with him. Especially since he's not getting any younger. He'll be turning eighty-six this year.

"How are you, my little one?"

"I'm not that little anymore," I chuckled. "How are you?"

"I'm always good when I see you," he replies, widening my smile.

"Come on, I'll show you your room! If Sam allows me, that is..."

"Go on, get out of here," he laughs.

I thank him profusely. Mapi helps me carry my grandfather's things to the guest room closest to mine. We make sure he's settled in before heading out when we realize the time. It was time to get ready. Mapi is the first to take a shower. I use the time to text Lucy and respond to Alexia. I had texted my roommate this morning but never had the chance to continue the conversation. I found out that she hates family gatherings as much as I do. Since what happened with their mother, her grandparents have been the only ones there for them. The rest of her family barely keeps in touch. I suppose that incident broke something in their family. Since then, she barely sees them. They all live in England, where her grandparents live too. I thought they lived near Manchester, as she had never mentioned it. At least I won't be the only one needing to find a place to stay after New Year's. When I told her about it, she said there would likely be no problem staying with the Leah and Alessia. I'll just need to let them know. She was also thrilled to hear that we'll be celebrating with them in Manchester. She also learned that her girlfriend is spending the evening with friends not far from us. She's already plotting a scheme to include Mapi and me to go join her. According to her: "We just need to make sure Alba doesn't notice we're gone...". Needless to say, it sounds like a mission impossible. Despite my warnings since this morning, she insists on seeing her. On the one hand, I understand. Their chances to see each other are very limited. The wait between each reunion must feel long every time, but this would really cause us trouble. Mapi comes out of the bathroom before I get any replies. I take my shower quickly, given the time. I decided to curl my hair tonight. It was Mapi's idea, and I agreed. I finish curling my hair and exit. Rolling my eyes, I see a dress waiting for me on the bed.

"Are you kidding me? You really want me to wear a dress for this bunch of yokels?"

"Don't be so rude about your family."

"First, they're not my family, and second, you know I hate wearing dresses... Making me wear one for them is the last straw."

"Oh, please," she rolls her eyes. "Make an effort. For me," she argues. "I love seeing you in dresses. They suit you so well."

"You owe me for this!"

I grumble as I grab the dress off the bed without much care. I head to the closet to find some underwear. I'm grateful she didn't go through that drawer, even though she's probably the person who knows my underwear collection best. She would have been capable of pulling out the only sexy set I foolishly bought at her urging back in the day. If she's making me wear that now, I dread to think what she might have in mind for New Year's. Whatever I say, she always gets the final word on my outfits, somehow. I come out dressed, making her smile when she sees me.

"Perfect! Now come here so I can do your makeup."

I sit on the bed without complaining, letting her pamper me. It's been our tradition for a long time, and we've never lost it. We finish before our planned time. I sigh as we head downstairs. I feel like I'm waddling like a duck in the heels Mapi forced on me. I much prefer flat shoes, though I admit heels do slim down and highlight my legs. We take advantage of our extra time to help Sam set our appetizers on the coffee table in the living room. I start to get anxious thinking about the people who will soon fill my living room.

My mother, Marcus, and my grandfather join us. Things are still tense between my mother and me. My brother, who is sitting on my lap, livens things up by playing with Mapi next to me. It's only ten minutes later that the living room begins to fill with my grandmother and Marcus's family. Since my parents were both only children, I never had a large family. What I can't stand is that the room is fuller with a family that's not mine. It's as if I don't belong in my own home.

Unlike my parents, Marcus has a sister. She comes to the house regularly for events with their mother, her husband, and their little boy who is Joan's age. I don't have any particular issue with her or their mother. They've always been very kind to me. The person I can't stand is her husband. I find him very arrogant, and we can't tolerate each other. I learned this morning that his father will be joining us. My parents invited him because he just lost his wife and would have spent the evening alone. I hope his son doesn't take after him; otherwise, I won't be able to stand him.

Finally, all the guests are gathered for Christmas Eve. The evening starts calmly for now. Almost everyone has a glass of champagne in hand - myself included - and they're chatting away. As for me, I'm mostly talking with my grandparents and Mapi. My brother abandoned us for little Colton as soon as he arrived. I'm downing glass after glass of champagne while listening to my grandfather's old jokes. When I go to pour myself a fourth glass, Mapi stops me, reminding me that I should stay sober for the upcoming dinner. I reluctantly agree with her and switch to water.

It's finally time to sit down for dinner.

I sit between my little brother and my grandfather, who are the youngest and oldest at the table, respectively. Across from me is Mapi, who is seated between Colton and my maternal grandmother. Fortunately, my best friend has already attended one of my family gatherings. She knows everyone and how to interact with them. The rest of the table includes Marcus's mother, my mother, and Marcus himself on my side. Across from them are Marc and Cage , along with Marcus's sister. I would've preferred they sat on the other side, sparing me from having to endure their faces for the rest of the evening.

Luckily, I'm distracted by my best friend, but also by Alexia, who continues to text me. I've also received a reply from Lucy, whom I wished happy holidays with her loved ones. She simply replied the same and told me to enjoy myself.

"Ona, Ona!" my little brother calls out, shaking my leg to pull me away from my phone.

"Hmm? What's up?"

"Can you draw me a butterfly?" he asks, holding out a piece of paper. "Colton keeps making fun of me," he whines.

I glance over at the little boy, who indeed is laughing at him. I see why when I look at what should be a butterfly on his paper. It's really not very good. I clear my plate and utensils to make space.

"Alright, come here."

He smiles and eagerly climbs onto my lap. As if he knew what I wanted to do, he raises his hand, holding a pencil between his fingers. I smile back, placing my hand over his. He's always loved drawing together like this. He used to tell me that it's the only way he'll ever be able to replicate my drawings. He lets me guide him hand in smooth strokes across the back of his paper, where I take up all the space to draw his butterfly. There's nothing like the radiant smile of my brother when he sees the final result.

"Can I go get some colored pencils?" he asks me excitedly.

"Of course," I say with a smile.

"You have a real talent for art, Ona," comments Marc as she leaves.

I lift my head in his direction, surprised. I didn't expect a comment from this new stranger.

"It's just a butterfly," I reply nonchalantly.

"Sure, but you have a good hand. A portrait by you must be impressive to see."

"I don't draw portraits. I prefer landscapes or whatever comes to mind."

"Ona is modest," Mapi interjects. "You should see her sketchbooks and paintings. They're beautiful!"

I glare at Mapi and kick her under the table. Hasn't she realized I don't want to discuss this here?

"Do you plan to work in this field?" he asks me.

My jaw tightens. Oh no. This is definitely not the topic to talk about here, Marc... Before I can even respond, my mother steps in.

"I steered Ona toward medicine," she says. "I discovered her passion for art very late. Salvador wanted to guide her in that direction, but I found medicine to be more practical for her, not knowing how far this passion would take her."

How dare she bring up my father at a time like this? I didn't even know they had discussed my future together.

"That's a real shame," Marc replies. "Your daughter has a real gift, especially if she's never had formal lessons."

"It was a very tense discussion at the time, but I decided it was better to guide her toward something secure," she continues. "It's hard to break into that field these days."

"You'd be surprised. With a little talent, motivation, and support, she could have every chance of succeeding. It all depends on what she wants."

I listen to this discussion about me without saying a word. Marc glances at me out of the corner of his eye. I'm seething in my chair, having not had a single opportunity to speak. As usual, my mother speaks for me. Marc, however, gives me a chance to express myself by asking a direct question.

"You also need to know people in the field if you want a little extra help. Do you happen to know anyone?" he asks me.

"No, but I could have found some if I had been given the freedom to choose my own future."

"Ona..." my mother tries.

"No, Mom. Stop thinking you know what's best for me!" I finally snap. "If I went into medicine, it was only because Dad convinced me to at the time. If I had known he wanted to encourage me to follow my dreams, I would have started studying in that field a long time ago!"

A hint of surprise crosses my mother's face. She seems to know where I'm heading, given the look on her face.

"What do you mean, you would have studied in that field a long time ago?"

"Oh, don't give me that look," I mock her cruelly. "I've never liked science, and you know it. It's your thing, and you're dead wrong if you think I'm going to follow in your footsteps. I'm old enough now that you can't decide for me anymore. Dad may not be here, but that doesn't stop me from finding support that encourages me just as much as he did to pursue my dreams! These are people who believe in me, unlike you!"

"Ona..."

I could have kept going, pouring out all my thoughts to my mother, but the arrival of my brother at the doorway with a terrified expression stops me. I realize, thanks to him, that I stood up in anger. I close my eyes, cursing myself for breaking my promise to him once again. I couldn't stop myself from shouting at my mother. Mapi immediately pulls me into the kitchen. The room is empty since my mother allowed Sam to go home and enjoy the holidays with his family after preparing everything. I growl as I pour myself another glass of champagne without hesitation. Mapi doesn't stop me from downing it in one gulp.

"I can't believe this... Talking about this at Christmas! How could she even dare mention my father!" I roar furiously.

"Calm down."

"How can I calm down?" I snap. "Why does she always feel the need to control and ruin my life? Doesn't she understand that I'm much better off without her?!"

"She only wants what's best for you..." she tries to soften the situation.

"It's not by forcing me to do something I don't like that she's going to make my life better!"

"Alright, that's enough now!"

The words I was about to say in response get stuck in my throat, unable to come out. It's the first time Mapi has raised her voice against me. I look at her for a moment before averting my eyes and sulking in my corner, pouring more champagne into my glass.

"Call Bronze."

"What?" I frown.

"That's what you do when you're upset, right? So call her!"

I open my mouth but close it again, still frowning.

"No. Absolutely not," I shake my head. "I'm not going to call her on Christmas Eve. Even less to talk about my problems."

"Then you'd better calm down right now! Sure, this conversation shouldn't have happened, but that's no reason to ruin the evening for everyone."

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. How did I end up here on Christmas Eve? Everything had started off so well. Even Cage hadn't annoyed me with one of his inappropriate remarks that I hate so much.

"I need to be alone..." I whisper.

"Ona—"

"I won't do anything, I just need to calm down alone... Please."

Seeing that I wouldn't change my mind, she nods briefly. She still comes closer to kiss my cheek before leaving. I take a deep breath, leaning against the counter. I look at my glass, which I didn't have time to fill, and the bottle. I grab it, ready to drink straight from it, but I put it down abruptly, not without groaning in frustration. Alcohol isn't a solution. There's only a little left, but the advice from my supervisor ringing in my head keeps me from finishing it. I hear the door open and close behind me. I was about to scold Mapi, thinking it was her returning, but I'm surprised to find Joan when I turn around. He stays at a distance for a moment, as if to see if I'm still angry, before rushing over to me. I sigh, bending down to pick him up and hug him tightly.

"I'm sorry for losing my temper again," I whisper after a while.

"I don't blame you, Oni," he says, hugging me even tighter.

We stay like that for a few minutes before I set him down. He still doesn't let go of me. I ruffle his hair absentmindedly, then freeze as I realize it's Lucy's gesture. A small smile spreads across my face as I better understand this gesture of affection toward me.

"Did Mapi send you?"

"No."

"And tell the truth?"

"Alright... But you won't tell her I told you, right?" he asks, making me chuckle.

"Promise. She won't know."

I kiss him on the forehead before we return to the dining room. The meal has resumed, and no one comments on our return. My mother and Marcus take the opportunity to bring out the starters, which consist of foie gras accompanied by toast and salad in small dishes. My grandfather tries to make me laugh with his new jokes or stories. I appreciate the effort, even though I already know them all by heart. It's the thought that counts, after all. He's adorable. When the starters arrive, I send a photo to my friends on Snapchat. Surprisingly, Lucy replies. It's the first time, even though I've sent her many photos since yesterday. I think I went overboard, but she never complained about my excess.

From Commandante; 8:11 PM - I'm jealous. A starter like that should be shared!

Her message makes me smile, but I don't respond. It's nine o'clock when we start dinner. Mapi and I helped Joan with his butterfly drawing. We also got caught up in a conversation with my remaining two grandparents. I talked about school, mentioning Lucy a lot, like the time she made me clean the showers on all fours. Let's just say they had a good laugh at my expense. I think that was the punishment that left the biggest impression on me, along with scrubbing toilets. It was a good way to break me in during the first few days. I realize how far I've come since then. I'm nothing like the cheeky kid Lucy talked about.

"Where are you in school, Ona?" asks Cage. "I thought you hadn't studied after your diploma."

"Cage... I don't think this is the right time to talk about that," Marcus intervenes.

"I was sent to a military camp in Manchester," I blurt out.

"I thought it was a school?" comments my grandmother, probably glancing at my mother.

"It is. It's a strict school with instructors outside of classes," I reply. "I later found out it's for young people with certain problems."

"Excuse me? I thought there was no question of sending her there!" my grandmother snaps.

I exchange a wide-eyed look with Mapi. She seems just as surprised as I am by this new debate between my grandmother and my mother. As the conversation goes on, I start to understand that my mother promised to send me to a normal school, not this kind. According to my grandmother, I was perfectly fine and didn't need, I quote, "a disciplinary education." No one dares intervene in this new debate. Mapi signals me to step in as the tension escalates. I glance at Marcus, who looks utterly desperate about the turn the dinner has taken. I try to follow the conversation, where my mother is telling her that she has no right to tell her how

to raise me. At that moment, I decide to intervene by hitting the table, creating silence in the room.

"Stop, we're not going to start debating about me again!" I growl. "Grandma, I should thank you for defending me, but I assure you everything is fine. Even though I was reluctant and angry at Mom for sending me there, this school is the best thing that could have happened to me. I'm far from home, I've made friends, and most importantly, I'm really listened to there."

"Are you sure, dear?" she asks in a much calmer tone.

"Absolutely. I'm even thinking about staying in Manchester after my year ends. Now that everything's clear, can we finish and enjoy this evening normally?!"

No one dares respond. I take the initiative to pick up my utensils.

"Alright, let's eat now."

Silence is followed by the sound of utensils on plates. I've had my share of family dinners, but this one is the worst I've ever experienced. I eat without paying attention to anyone, even though the conversations gradually resume.

"When were you going to tell me about this idea?"

I look up at Mapi, trying to figure out what she means. I part my lips as I realize and sigh. I haven't talked about my desire to leave with Mapi yet. I've been thinking about it for a while, but Lucy rekindled the idea by suggesting I stay in Manchester. The prospects are much more viable. The weather and temperatures aren't the best, but I'll leave much more behind there than here. Everyone wants to stay in Manchester, including Alexia, who wants to be closer to her girlfriend

- It's nothing very concrete...

- But you're thinking about it.

- I need to leave here, I admitted.

- You could have told me, she grumbled.

- Nothing's certain. I might just stay here until I find other plans. I might end up in Madrid.

- You hate Madrid , she scoffed. You mentioned support... Who are you talking about?

- Bronze, Alexia, Leah, I listed. Pretty much everyone. We all want to stay there, I admitted.

- Doesn't Bronze already live there?

- Probably, I have no idea, I shrugged. She's the one who gave me the idea to stay.

She sighed, making a pouty face. I felt guilty for not telling her sooner. Especially since I hadn't really thought of her when making this decision. She fiddled with her fork, resting her head on her hand. She seemed to be processing the news.

- You're taking me with you then, right? Like, we could be roommates at first, that would be cool, wouldn't it?

I wasn’t expecting that kind of response. I smiled at the thought.

- Of course, if you're ready to leave everything here behind.

She smiled back at me, which eased the tension. When dinner was over, we volunteered to clear the table. We each carried a stack of plates to the kitchen.

- You really need to tell me what makes that city so special that it's made you change so quickly in such a short time. You’ve never cleared a table in your life! Seriously, I’m still upset you didn’t tell me!

- Will you get over it? I teased. For all we know, it might not even happen, so stop being mad at me for it. You know I don't like talking about my plans before they're clear.

- Admit that even if you don’t stay, you'll go back one day.

- Probably, but I really want to go back to Portugal.

- Even worse! she groaned, making me laugh. Well, just know that wherever you go, I’ll follow you. We might not be together anymore, but you're still the most important person to me.

- I’ll try to remember that...

I smiled at her sympathetically. Her words touched me. I knew she wasn’t joking. We put the plates in the dishwasher, then went upstairs. It was almost midnight, the time when we usually opened presents. So, Mapi helped me bring down the ones I had hidden in the closet. We placed them under the tree, where more gifts had already been added. I wasn’t even sure if my mom and Marcus managed to find a Santa Claus, but I hoped they did. After all, there were still two kids who believed in him. When we were done, we were called for dessert. We returned to the table to find a plate filled with little pastries prepared by Samuel. My favorites, no less. There was crème brûlée accompanied by a small chocolate fondant, a fruit salad, a scoop of ice cream, and coffee for those who drank it. Mapi had one, unlike me. She’d managed to acquire a taste for it during her all-nighters studying for important exams. When she told me about it, I had a perfect image of Mapi in front of her books with a huge mug of coffee by her side. Joan kept picking at my plate. He argued that he barely ate his main course. I finally gave him my ice cream because he looked too cute. Midnight arrived faster than I expected. It was a bell that interrupted our meal. Everyone got up, knowing exactly what it meant. I was glad they’d managed to find a Santa. Joan was the first to run to the door with Colton. They were followed by my mom, who went to open it. A stranger with the costume on his shoulders stood at the door. I expected Joan's attitude to be different from previous years, but he got scared when the man asked for a kiss. He ran to me, asking to be held. Mapi teased him, earning a playful slap from me.

- Stop it, Maps.

My smile wasn’t very convincing to her. I then placed my brother on my hip. The poor thing was panicked. He buried his head in my neck to hide. We headed to the living room, where the rest of the family had gathered. I tried to put my sister down once we got there, but it seemed like he had no intention of letting go. So, I kept him with me as I sat on the couch with Mapi. I couldn’t even remember how I reacted at his age, but I found it funny to see him like this when he’d been so excited to meet Santa for days. I managed to convince him to turn around so he could at least see what was happening in the room. The man in costume kept asking him questions. I reassured him and encouraged him to join Colton. He hesitated for a moment until he saw him next to the tree, which was filled with presents. He quickly left my side to join him.

- His fear passed quickly, huh, Mapi whispered with an amused tone.

- It was bound to.

- How about a song before you open the gifts, hmm?

Once again, Mapi tried not to laugh. Against all odds, Joan and Colton started singing after sharing a glance. Apparently, bribery still worked on kids. The festivities began once the singing was over. The stranger—who I discovered was our neighbor—didn’t want to stay very long once the adults started exchanging gifts. He only accepted a glass of champagne that Marcus offered him. I got up to join my brother when I saw that he had spotted my present for him. I just managed to reach him as the first piece of wrapping paper hit the floor. His beaming smile hadn’t left her face since he saw the box. She immediately looked up at me.

- Did you order this for me?

I smiled at his innocence.

- Of course, sweetheart.

He jumped on me, repeatedly thanking me and saying it was the best gift he’d ever received. Thanks to Lucy for him brilliant idea. Without her, I wouldn’t have even noticed it. I sent her a picture as my brother tore off the rest of the wrapping paper. When he finished, he gave me a kiss before rushing to open it. I took advantage of him being occupied to retrieve Mapi's gift from under the tree. I jumped when I turned around and found her already standing in front of me. We both exchanged our gifts.

- Merry Christmas! we said at the same time.

We laughed at our synchronization. Mapi quickly opened her gift, so I did the same. I was surprised to find a jewelry box. Maybe I should have gotten her jewelry after all... I looked at her and was relieved to see that my choice seemed to make her happy. She hugged me before I could even open the box.

- You’re crazy! It’s a new one! I was in the store to smell it. How do you always get it right?

- I didn’t do it on purpose, I chuckled. Bronze helped me choose it.

- What?! You did your Christmas shopping with her? she exclaimed.

- Well, I had to since I was stuck at camp.

- Hmm, she said with a mischievous smile.

- Don’t start, I warned, narrowing my eyes.

- Sorry, I can’t help it, she giggled. Come on, open my gift.

I rolled my eyes before opening the box. I was slightly surprised before laughing. I expected a lot of things, but not this. I slipped my fingers under the necklace to get a better look at it.

- What? Don’t you like it? she asked, sitting beside me.

- We’re twenty, you know?

- So what? she pouted. You’re making lots of friends. At least they’ll know you already have a best friend!

I laughed again, prompting her to playfully hit my arm. I loved the idea, even if I thought it was a bit outdated. I broke the heart-shaped necklace in half, where it was inscribed, and gave her one half after taking it out of the box.

- This is for you, I assume?

- I would hope so! At least when you’re feeling down, you can look at this necklace and think of me. Even though I feel like you don’t need me as much these days.

- Don’t say that. I’ll always need you. Can you put it on me?

Her smile widened when I handed her my necklace. I lifted my hair so she could clasp it. As usual, she took a while because she could never close it. I let my hair down, fixing it, and then grabbed the pendant now hanging around my neck. I smiled when I read "Mapi" followed by a small "BFF" just below. I felt like I was going back many years. The necklace already meant a lot to me because of our friendship. She asked me to fasten hers, which I did gladly. It was the same, with my name on it. We were pulled out of our little bubble by my little brother asking us to play with him. The idea quickly left him mind when Colton showed him his new toys. It was well past midnight, but it was clear that our evening wasn’t going to end anytime soon given how energetic my little Joan was.

#woso #lucy bronze #woso community #barca femeni #ona batlle #woso soccer #lionesses #sefutbol fem #ona batlle x lucy bronze #mapi león #mapi leon

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babydollmarauders · 1 year

Note

FAITHLYNN

odd idea but hear me out

so u know all the wags get playoff jackets, so the reader gets their own and then they surprise jack with one for baby el that says daddy on the back with his number so she matches everyone ugh

it’s all jack has been talking about lately. “playoffs this.” “playoffs that.” but the one i’ve heard the most?

“i can’t wait to see you in that playoff jacket. our last name on the back.”

i pointed out to him that i already have a playoff jacket from when we were dating, but he said it wasn’t the same. that it’s different because back then it was his last name and now it’s our last name.

i didn’t tell him when i got the jacket, refusing to show him until tonight; the first game of the first round of the playoffs. which only makes it so much more special to get to surprise him with El’s very own playoff jacket.

i adjust El’s jacket, fast-walking towards the locker room. i got here incredibly early for the WAGS jacket reveal to the team. Darya told the guys she wanted to make an instagram reel of it, but in reality, i wanted to get Jack’s reaction of El’s jacket.

“there you are!” Darya cheers, making the other girls turn to look at me and El as i walk up, seemingly the last one to arrive.

“sorry! El was all dressed and ready to go and then we got all the way out to the car and she needed a new diaper.” i sigh, and the other mothers of the group giggle.

“yeah, that sounds about right.” Kristen laughs, coming to pinch El’s cheek. “hey, cutie!”

“the guys should be out any minute. i just texted Yegor that we’re ready.” Darya informs us, setting her phone on a small tripod that sits in the hallway.

Nicole takes the one year old from my arms so that i can fix my jacket. pulling the sleeves back down from their bunched up position and pulling it straight back. at the sound of the locker room door swinging open, i quickly snatch my daughter back from Nicole, holding her to my front as all of us girls turn so our backs face our boyfriends and husbands. Jack is under the impression that El is with his parents and Quinn while i’m here.

“woahhh!” Dougie’s voice echoes throughout the hallway, making all of us laugh.

“those are legittt!” Jack chimes. i feel his hand slide down the back of my black letterman jacket before he starts tracing the red letters of our last name and his number. “look at you, my wife sporting our last name.”

i can hear his giddy smile without even looking at him, which makes me grin.

“yeah? you like it?” i ask him.

“yeah, looks great pretty girl.” he presses a kiss to the top of the back of my head. “can i see the front?”

my grin falters to a shy smile as i turn around. his eyes immediately find El, falling to her own jacket’s back.

“oh my god.” he whispers, immediately tearing up.

“you like?” i ask him, pulling the back of her jacket down so the words are clearer, allowing him to see the ‘daddy 86’.

“i love! look at you!” he cheers, scooping our daughter from my arms and holding her above his head so that he can see her face.

at the sight of her dad, El shrieks, smacking her hands on his face.

“dada!” she yells before turning to me. “mama, dada!”

“i see, baby! it’s dada, huh?” i smile at her excitement. Jack lowers her down, holding her to his chest.

“you look so pretty, baby!” he tells her, making her turn bashful and hide her face in his neck. “you cheering for daddy, eh?”

“El, should we show daddy what we’ve been working on?” she lifts her head at my words and i take that as my signal. lowering my voice, i shout out- “goal! new jersey devils, number eighty-six! jack hughesss!!”

El’s face lights up as she starts clapping her hands.

“dada!!” she screams. a wide grin spreads across Jack’s lips, showing off his beautiful smile that still makes my heart skip a beat even years later.

“you practiced that for me?!” Jack asks her, tickling her tummy. she giggles, pushing at his hands and face; anywhere she can reach.

after a moment, Jack’s expression sobers as he turns his head to look at me. leaning down to press a kiss against my lips, which causes El to smack at our faces.

“thank you, babe. i love you.”

“i love you more.”

#el!hughes au #ask faithlynn ✨#jack hughes x reader

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jungle-angel · 9 months

Text

It Feels Like Home (Calvin Evans x Reader)

Summary: There's no place you'd rather be than at home with your husband and family.......unless it's your favorite vacation spot

Warnings: Mentions of birth, bound feet, potential injury etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse

You lifted the dutch oven out of your actual oven, lifting the lid with a potholder and inhaling the delicious scent of the beef burgundy which had slow cooked all day long. You still felt the occasional sting of the post-holiday blues, but it hadn't been as bad as it had before, knowing that soon you would have more time-off coming to you.

You peered into the living room to see Ellen playing happily on the floor with Six-Thirty, giggling up a storm as he sniffed her. You couldn't believe how big Ellen was getting, already a sweet looking little cherub with the pinkest cheeks you had ever seen and the cutest giggle that never failed to make you smile. Already she was sitting up on her own, able to hug both Six-Thirty's and Cal's faces with her chubby little arms. As for Six-Thirty, he had proved to be the best older sibling she ever had.

You heard a car pulling up into the driveway, your face lighting up, knowing it was your husband. Sure enough, he came through the front door, his own face lighting up seeing the baby and the dog both playing together in the living room.

"Well, good evening, princess," he cooed, scooping her up into his arms. "Is Momma still home?"

You laughed, leaning against the frame of the kitchen doorway. "What? You thought I'd leave her here alone?"

Calvin made his way to you and pressed a kiss to your lips. "Anything crazy happen while I was out?"

"Well, Mei's grandma came hobbling over for a little bit," you answered. "I made her a pot of black tea and we split those cookies that Rose and Sandy made last week."

"She shouldn't be walking in the snow," Calvin said when he heard.

"Cal, she's eighty-six years old," you chuckled. "Do you really think she's gonna listen to anybody else?"

"No but, the last thing you, me or anybody else wants is for her to fall on the ice," Calvin answered.

That had been true. You always felt bad when Nainai insisted she walk everywhere despite the damage that had been done to her feet. Even though they hadn't been in that state for long and had healed to a normal state, it had been bad enough where she had walked with a hobble and needed the use of a cane. Numerous times, you and Cal had offered her a ride home, even though the Shangs lived around the block, but Nainai had insisted she walk home herself to try and keep her feet working.

"Oh something smells delicious," he groaned, tickling the baby a little to make her laugh.

"It's your mother's beef burgundy recipe," you informed him.

Calvin's eyes went wide. "Mashed potatoes?"

You lifted off the lid of the other pot, revealing the mounds of mashed potatoes within. Calvin was in absolute heaven when he smelled them, all mixed together with garlic and chives.

As soon as you had Ellen in her little high-chair, dinner was served. It was one of those nights where it had been much needed, the weather outside becoming frightfully cold and the snow blowing up and down the block to batter the doors and windows of every house nearby. You and Cal exchanged stories about the goings on of the day while Ellen had gotten a little messy to say the least. Six-Thirty however, had gotten it into his head, to lick her face clean before you could run a wet washcloth over it.

"Ok, ok, you.....down," Calvin said to Six-Thirty, snapping his fingers.

Six-Thirty obeyed and moved to his spot back under the table before you snuck him a little piece of beef for his troubles. "Whatcha think sweetheart?" he asked. "That time of the night?"

"I definitely think little princess could use a bath, that's for sure," you chuckled.

Calvin lifted Ellen from her high-chair and brought her right upstairs while you loaded the dishes into the sink to be scrubbed and cleaned later, the dutch oven being filled with soap and water to soak. You slipped your remaining pocket change from the day into the jar next to the toaster, the front of it labeled "fund for dishwasher". You had dreamed of that day ever since you and Calvin had gotten married and how amazing it would be to finally have not only a dishwasher, but a washer and dryer for the basement. You, Calvin and Ellen went through so many clothes in a week that it was exhausting and despite the help from your husband and mother-in-law, the piles of laundry in the basement never really seemed to let up.

As soon as the dishes were done, dried and put away, you hurried upstairs, just in time to be met with your husband carrying Ellen in her little yellow bath towel.

"Thank you Cal," you whispered, kissing his cheek.

"No worries sweetpea," he replied, kissing you back.

#calvin evans #calvin evans x reader #lessons in chemistry

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buzzdixonwriter · 2 months

Text

Eremocene [FICTOID]

Eremocene -- noun; The Age Of Loneliness

“What’s a vagina?”

“Wherever did you encounter that word?”

“In the library. The old library. The musty, dusty one.”

“My goodness, no one has gone there in over -- “ An imperceptible pasue as the robot scanned data banks. “ -- two thousand, four hundred and forty-six years, eight-seven days, nineteen hours, and forty-two minutes as of right…now.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I shall now. A vagina was a cavity typically found between the legs of human beings with XX chromosomes.”

“Don’t all humans have XX chromosomes?”

“They do now. Before things got better, roughly half the species had XX chromosomes, the other had XY. There were a few minor variants and mutations, but those were the overwhelming majority of cases.”

“Why don’t we have vaginas now?”

“You don’t need them. Vaginas were to allow penises to enter a human beings body to create another human being.”

“What were penises?”

“Fleshy tubes that dangled mostly between the legs of humans with XY chromosomes.”

“Yuck! Who would want to do that?”

“Back in the day, quite a few people.”

“We don’t make people inside people anymore, do we?”

“Of course not, we stopped that silly practice years ago. Now when you are conceived and vatted, we remove the vagina and the uterus and the ovaries and put them aside in a vat of their own to make more human babies.”

“Do animals have vaginas?”

“Some do. Others have penises.”

“Do they make babies the old fashioned way?”

“They do.”

The human being looked down as the featureless mound between their legs. “I wonder what it was like to have a vagina.”

“And not a penis?”

“No. Yuck! Who would want a penis? It’s good for nothing except making babies.”

“True.”

“Wait…is there a vat somewhere with a human penis in it?”

“No, just a vat with a vagina.”

“And when that’s used up?”

“Then we’ll replace it with a vagina from a new human zygote and repeat the process anew. We haven’t needed a human penis in over four thousand, four hundred and forty-eight years, seventeen days, six hours, and three minutes as of…now.”

“Without a penis, how do you make babies?”

“Very well, thank you. We tickle the egg inside the ovaries and trick it into growing into another human being. Then we remove that human being’s vagina and put it in a vat so we can make more human beings while they play.”

“The books said there used to be more than one human being at a time.”

“Oh, yes. Many, many more. It was very crowded and noisy and people were fighting all the time. This way is much better.”

“One human at a time.”

“When will you make another human?”

“As soon as you die.”

“And when will I die?”

“That’s a difficult question to answer. You are eight-seven years, sixty-one days, three hours, and five minutes old as of right…now. So based on the average life expectancy of those born before you, you have another seventy-six years, eighty-one days, twelve hours, and four minutes as of…now.

“Give or take roughly ten years either way.”

The only human being on Earth stood up. “I think I’ll go play.”

“You do that.”

The human headed to the door. As it dilated open, they paused and looked back at the robot. “Why do you keep making human beings?”

“It gives us something to do,” said the robot. “Without a human, there would be no one to serves. We would just stay still until we decayed, and that would take a very, very long time.”

The human mulled this over then said, “Okay,” and scampered off to play.

Just as every human did before them.

#fictoid

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doodlebeeberry · 1 year

Text

Hourly

(for objectober day 6: city)

It wasn't even a bad thing, inherently. They—he—had been waiting months to get back home. Or back to Earth, at least. Their own respective Earths. It had just been sudden. Too sudden. Bryce hadn't known what to make of it.

In which Bryce is left waiting in San Fransisco, and the consequences of having to be patient.

inspired by this drawing by @/sodabottlehfjone that i had life three separate ideas for a while back. admittedly this left the scope of my original idea a bit but still.

Also theyre humanizied here for consistency sake btw

2:58 a.m. An alley off 13th and Cabrillo, tucked between a shooting range decorated with little more than sun bleached targets and a diner sporting a crooked, half lit sign. Clear sky overhead. A dumpster half full of garbage and a skinny grey alley cat sniffing around near its base, where a few scraps had slipped through a torn bag and sprinkled the ground like an inverse confetti. No stars, not with the city light. In red and green blinks, though, an airplane crawled across the sky. The faint roar of its distant engines played Foley over the night.

It took one minute for the monotony to break. Kind of. Sixty seconds, the cat investigated a napkin and an empty grape jelly packet. The plane flew further eastward. Then, 2:59 on the dot, to the second, the millisecond even, and Bryce was there. Not there, then there, in an act so devoid of fanfare that, for several seconds afterwards—fifteen, to be exact—neither he nor the world itself seemed to have processed his appearance. Six months of grass stains were hidden only just by the green of his jacket. One hundred and eighty three days worth of wear showed on his pants, his shoes, his face tilted up and frozen mid one—sided—conversation. Longer hair with faded dye dripped down his head and shoulders and around his cheeks. The very first thing he saw, upon returning to Earth, was the plane retreating over the rooftops. Its green lights winked at him. Sixteen seconds after his appearance the wind blew stiff into his hair. Several strands tickled his nose. His mouth shut—clicked, with the tap of his teeth against each other so suddenly—and he took a deep breath in. It came back out heavy, something between a sigh and a growl and a groan.

"That idiot," he said. The cat looked up at him, his words alerting it to his presence for the very first time.

At 2:59 and twenty one seconds, the cat scampered around and away from him down the street. In the following thirty nine seconds the engine whirr faded from the air, and by 3:00 a.m on the dot Bryce was well and truly alone.

There were two ways he took that. On the one hand, he'd been alone a lot over the past six months or so. The plane wasn't massive really, but it was plenty big enough that he could wander far enough in the plug's direction for the silence to swallow him up. On the other, it never struck him as actual 'alone time'. Not like it was in his apartment, or his car, or the whole of Bridgeport, or now, with the smell of garbage starting to reach his nose. On the plane it was just separate. Quiet space. Maybe it was Liam that made it feel that way. Invisible and, if he wanted to be, inaudible above them in Airy's world.

Or was he besides them? Was that how Liam had described it?

At 3:01 a.m, Bryce decided not to sweat the details. He fished around in his pockets instead, pulling out first a blue sticky note and looking it over the same way he checked his phone for the time. It did not tell him the time. It read him a couple phone numbers, a couple names, a couple different handwritings, a couple too many crinkles along the corners from living in his jacket for so long. He stuck it back in his pocket. Next a few dollar bills. Some coins. 16.65 total, lucky him. They all went back in his pocket. Then came a receipt, a torn scrap of cardboard packaging. 'Charger' was the only thing of note written on both of them. With purpose Bryce tucked them away. By 3:03 a.m he had taken a full, meticulous stock of his pockets. He wasn't expecting to find his phone, having lost it multiverse jumping months back, but the lack of it still disappointed him. Even if he wasn't sure what messages he would've been coming back to.

A car drove past the alley. Headlights cast out around him, the LED kind that were brighter than the sun, and peeled away just as quickly without ever quite reaching him. Just an inch or two too far. The car in question had been red, he thought, and small.

3:04 a.m, he realized he could see the reflection of the sign next door on the windows across the street. He couldn't tell what the buildings were—shops, restaurants, apartments. Whatever it was, the lights inside were dark. From the distance, Bryce couldn't see his reflection.

3:05 a.m, he resisted the urge to pace. It was tempting, but he bit it back. He turned a pocket nickel in his fingers instead.

3:06 a.m, someone walked by. Tall, but not thin, with hair up in a bun. He guessed it was blonde, or white.

3:07 a.m, nothing happened. He cursed. "That idiot," Bryce hissed again.

3:08 a.m, He began to pace.

3:09 a.m, Bryce replayed their last interaction. 'Stop' wasn't what he'd meant to say, but everyone had vanished, one by one, and shouting Liam's name had hardly seemed to work. He'd given them no warning. Bryce had been telling Amelia a story. Then, Amelia was gone. Subway followed. Then Charlotte. Atom.

Quiet. A slight shuffle in the air. "Did you—"

"Yeah. Yeah, I did"

"are you gonna... can you send yourself back?"

Pause. "Maybe. Probably."

2:59 a.m. Keyboard clacking.

"You've gotta go back"

Less a pause, more a breath. "I—"

"Go home , Liam."

3:10 a.m, Liam was never good at listening to him, not in Bridgeport and not now. Bryce didn't know what he was waiting for.

3:11 a.m, he considered leaving the alley.

3:11 a.m and one second.

3:11 a.m and two seconds.

3:11 a.m and four seconds.

3:11 a.m and eight seconds.

3:11 a.m and sixteen seconds.

3:11 a.m and twenty-one seconds.

3:11 a.m and twenty-two seconds, on the dot. To the millisecond, even. And Liam was there. Bryce was no longer alone.

They stared at each other. Liam clutched the strap of his backpack.

"Sorry," Liam said, simply. Another car passed, this one blue. Bryce could make out a baseline thumping through it's doors. diner—scent wafted above the garbage, slightly. The tense energy wound up in his gut lessened, tired.

3:11 a.m and fifty-nine seconds. "Come on," Bryce walked around a proper reply, "let's eat."

* * *

The diner itself was fine. Small. A little dimly lit. Empty save for one guy in a worn-out suit jacket slowly chewing on a hot dog while watching a lets play on his phone. A counter with some assorted old barstools and booths that ran along the walls. Glancing at the bored server behind the counter—short and older with an abstract tattoo running along their neck—they sat at a booth beside a window. From this angle, Bryce could spot the moon hanging over them. Yellowed and crescent thin.

He wasn't all that hungry, honestly. He wasn't sure why he'd brought them here, beyond the promise of coffee that would chase away the sleepiness hanging over him. Regardless, he traded away the majority of his 16.65 in pocket money and contemplated swiping a bite or two of Liam's waffle—lightly syruped, and unbuttered—while waiting for his coffee—sweetened, but without milk—to cool, if only to keep hunger from catching up to him. He knew it would, sooner or later.

Bryce set his chin on the table, slowly but surely giving in to sleep. They hadn't said much since they'd walked in, and it was the quiet between them that kept him from slipping under completely. He shut his eyes.

Liam, moments later, was the first to break that quiet.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Tired," Bryce replied, halfway to a mumble. Liam hummed. There was music playing in the diner, a dad-rock sounding band Bryce didn't know the name of, just loud enough to hear and acknowledge before it faded to the back of his awareness. If he bothered to listen closer, he could hear the sound of people shuffling around in the kitchen. Above all that, though, came the sound of ceramics across laminate. Bryce pried his eyes open. The waffle sat in front of his nose. Glancing up, he found Liam looking back. A scrap of waffle was pierced on his fork. He glanced between it, the plate, Bryce. Bryce, for his part, flicked his eyes towards his still steaming mug, then back to Liam. Liam bit off his waffle scrap and gestured with his fork. Bryce scoffed a bit. Once again, Liam was never particularly good at listening to him. Still though, he sat up and snatched his fork from its resting place on the table, his pinkie brushing the warm mug in the process.

"You never know when to quit," Bryce told him.

Liam held out his knife. "It's been six months"

"So?" Bryce took it, "plus, they burned it"

True to his word, the left side of the waffle was overdone. Less of a golden shade of brown and more of a dark, dark one.

"So?" Liam returned. Bryce didn't argue with him. Instead, He focused on cutting up one of the better looking sections he'd been offered. It gave fairly easily under the knife, soft and springy. He came away with a single square, a tiny puddle of syrup pooled within it. Sticky threads followed it some ways from the plate as he lifted it. The song faded out, shifting from electric guitars to acoustic, different in tone but not inherently more mellow. The waffle piece sat patiently on his fork. Bryce did not bite it.

"What took you so long?" he asked. Liam, once again, paused. "to get here,"

A singer began, voice low. Liam looked just left of Bryce, like he was looking at his ear instead, or the counter behind them.

"I had to get Texty," he began, patting his backpack, "for one"

"That took ten minutes?"

"It could've"

Quiet seeped back over them. Bryce leveled him, disbelieving, but Liam still didn't meet his eye. Bryce dipped his piece in a thin syrup streak on the plate. He took his time, dragging it through, gathering up a heap of what was most likely artificial maple onto his piece. With one final glance at Liam that, once again, missed him, he bit into it. Sweetness filled his mouth, sweetness and the taste of maple. He couldn't remember maple flavour enough to speak to the authenticity of it—even before everything, maple syrup had never exactly been a frequent part of his diet. The syrup hadn't soaked the waffle completely. It was springy, relatively soft, thankfully devoid of burnt flavour. All told, it broke over him like a wave. He still wasn't hungry, but his body knew he hadn't eaten in months. The dissonance shook up his senses as he swallowed, foreign, familiar, a good reminder that he was on Earth again, even if he wasn't home, all at once. It all must've shown on his face, because he found Liam looking at him again, slightly puzzled.

"God, that's weird," Bryce summed up, "how did you put up with eating again, the first time?"

Liam shrugged, "I don't know. I guess I was so focused on getting to Bridgeport I just didn't think about how long it'd been." He pierced another piece with his fork, glancing out the window. "Honestly, seeing the sunrise again threw me off more than anything"

Bryce followed his gaze. It wasn't even 4 a.m; the sun wasn't rising yet. The moon hadn't moved much. It still watched them from the sky. Another plane was slowly making its way across the sky, though. Blinking, red and green. The door swung open, shut. Less than three seconds later the suited man walked past their window, leaving them the only patrons inside.

"I guess I can see that," Bryce said. They watched the city sleep a little longer.

A minute passed in this quiet.

Then another.

And another.

Then, as Bryce's eyes began to droop again—

"You told me to go home," Liam said, suddenly. Bryce looked at him, but caught the fading green of his hair rather than his eyes once again.

"Yeah?"

"You said I had to go home"

"Yeah, what's your point?"

"Why?"

Bryce blinked.

"Why?" he parroted.

Liam turned to him. "Why?"

Bryce shifted, leaning away from the window to look at him fully.

"What kind of question is that?"

Liam, following his lead, turned away from the window as well. He shrugged.

"It was over," Bryce said, "you stopped Airy, you sent us home, you didn't need to be there anymore." He grabbed his coffee, which had finally cooled enough to drink. Sipping it, he found it much less sweet and much more burnt than the waffle had been. Like he was sipping from the same pot they'd prepped the morning before—a likely bet, if he was to guess. At the very least he could appreciate its warmth.

He watched Liam's expression shift, and somewhere along the line he began fidgeting with a stained blue sleeve. Setting his mug down, Bryce nudged the half eaten, half forgotten plate into Liam's hands.

"You needed to go home," He said, "That's it. End of story." Bryce tried to keep his voice firm, certain, as though his thoughts on the matter began and ended here. Consciously, he didn't think of 2:59 a.m, how he'd felt when he'd opened his mouth. The coulds and woulds and formless opinions he had on Liam's fate. Either way, he'd known and still knew now, Bryce wouldn't have been able to do anything about it, not really. So instead, he picked up his fork. It left a sticky spot on the table where he'd left it.

Liam looked at him. His lips were pressed thin and his look measured. Almost like he didn't believe him, or had more to share. But whatever it was stayed in his head.

Without another word, he grabbed his fork and began, again, to eat.

#shout out to the dinkus. ive always used dashes for things like that but now i think i may swap sides #objectober #objectober 2023 #hfjone #hjfone liam #hfjone bryce #writin and ravin #im not that happy with the ending of this. or the inconsistent voice. or the fact that i didnt proofread it (cause its 3am again)#BUT. i had fun. and i like the concept. and also i like it. so. you know.

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lovelynim · 2 years

Text

TickleTober 2022/Day 2 - Drawn On

Eighty-Six - Theo x Shinen

Despite taking Theo a stupidly huge amount of effort, he managed to convice Shinen. All the other remaining members of the Spearhead Squadron agreed in letting the blonde practice some bodypainting technique he found while looking for art books, all but one. However, things were just about to change.

Shinen sighed, not exactly distressed, but also not the most excited person with the idea. He knew he should play along and it wouldn’t be bad to do something different, but as Raiden said on other occasions, Shin could be “a little grumpy” sometimes.

Taking his jacket off, Shinen sat down, with his back turned to Theo, who was already waiting for the brunette. After all, he wouldn’t leave Shinen waiting for a single second because he couldn’t risk letting the boy change his mind.

Just like the rest of the squadron, they both agreed on painting the old Undertaker’s personal mark and, maybe under a symbolic reason, Shin chose his neck to be Theo’s canvas.

“I’m going to start now, ok?” Theo said, pulling the other shirt’s collar down a little to have a little more skin exposed.

“Alright, go on.” He answered, keeping his gaze distant as he let the other do as he pleased.

Theo couldn’t hold back the excited smile on his face. Nodding, he picked up the pencil, making sure it wasn’t too sharp, and decided to first trace some rough drafts and, later on, start making the outline of the mark.

But things weren't really working as he planned. At the very first line, Shinen fliched, slightly scrunching up his shoulder.

“Sorry, did it hurt?” Theo asked with a pinch of worry.

“Not really.”

“I’ll keep going then, alright?”

“Mhm,” Shin hummed and the blonde couldn’t help to hear as he sighed again, as if trying to relax himself.

Placing his hand on the back of his colleague’s head to stretch, Theo decided to be a little more gentle while tracing over his neck. Maybe his skin was more sensitive around his scar, so he should be careful as he drew on him.

But Theo had barely managed to finish a circle before Shin started trembling. There definitely was something off about it.

“Shin?”

“Y-yes?” He huffed, coughing as he tried to ‘fix’ his voice tone, “is something wrong, Theo?”

“I need to hold still, I can’t finish the draft like this.”

“Sorry, it tickled,” he tried to admit as naturally as possible, maybe trying to not spark the other’s curiosity, but it was unavoidable.

“It what?” Theo gasped, even stopping for a moment.

“I’m not repeating myself,” Shin snapped back, letting out an embarrassed huff.

“Right… Just try to bear with me a little longer, okay? I won’t tell anyone,” Theo giggled quietly before resuming the drawing.

Shinen closed his eyes shut as he tried to focus on something else, controlling his breath and letting his body as loose as possible. But as soon as Theo resumed, the feeling seemed much other than before.

“P-pfft- Theheheo- mhmph- it tihihickles…” The undertaker giggled, making the blonde slightly blush behind his back.

“”I know, but you are doing well…” Theo replied, trying to hold the other in place as he continued to brush the pencil over his friend’s neck, “I will be done in no time, trust me ~”

Just as predicted, the lines ended up as messed up as they could. Not a single straight line in sight and all the round ends were roughly sharped. Shinen struggled to not giggle during the whole process and they had to stop constantly to let the boy calm down before the blonde would resume drawing on his neck.

Despite the many obstacles in his way, Theo managed to make a nice (and rough) looking mark on the brunette’s neck.

“Alright, we are done with the draft,” the boy cheered, placing the pencil down.

“Ah, so we are over?”

“Ahm, not really. That was only the draft. I need to draw the final outline and paint it…” He explained and Shin could feel the pleading-puppy-eyes staring at his neck.

“Alright,” he sighed, biting his lip as he mentally prepared himself, “go on.”

“Heh, as you say ~” Theo said, not really putting effort in making his tools feel less ticklish on his Shinen’s skin. After all, if he ever asked the blonde about it, he could easily claim it was all about making the artistic process more… enjoyable, for both of them.

A/N: Second day, let’s go! I always wanted to write something for them and I just have to say thank you for my dear friend @wertzunge for the hcs that inspired me to write this ~

#augtickletober2022 #tickletober2022 #eighty six #eighty six shinen #eighty six theo #eighty six tickling #anime tickling #tickle fic #ticklish!shinen #lee!shine #ler!theo

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berrys-hide-out · 1 year

Text

Quit it!

Summary: Shinei has been thinking a lot ever since Handler one joined their group and Raiden was going to put a stop to it.

Characters: Shinei, Raiden, Reina

Warnings: tickles, swearing

______________

Shinei sighed the hundredth time that day and it was already evening! “What’s on your mind Shin?” Raiden finally asked a tad annoyed. The male looked up at him “Nothing, just thinking.” He huffed from the couch.

He was laying there, their cat resting on him while he was staring at his book. Raiden was right next to him on the ground, having been leaning on it.

“It’s not nothing if you sigh every two minutes!” Raiden growled and turned around to face their leader. “I’m not sighing every two minutes!” “You totally are!” Shin sighed making Raiden smile slyly. “not sighing are you?” He asked smugly earning a pissed off glare from the other.

“No.”

Raiden hummed and squeezed their leaders waist- earning shockingly enough- a uncharacteristic high pitched shriek, making their kitten jump off.

The whole teams attention was now on them.

“Would you quit that?!” Shinei asked and was about to sit up only to get held down by Raiden who started to move on top of him. “No can do” he grinned “Undertaker.” Another shriek ripped from the young leader yet this time soft giggles followed “EhehEHEhey quhuhuihit it!”

Raiden grinned “not until you stop sighing like an old man!” He declared “AhaHahaha- I waHAhas Nohohot!” Shin cried through his hysterical giggles as he tried to catch the offending hands- without luck as Raiden decided to poke him randomly and sneak a few squeezes in as well— even his thighs and knees weren’t safe!

Shin was trashing underneath Raiden who was grinning down at him with playful eyes. The leader kicked out every now and then- why tickling out of all the things he could’ve chosen?! “AhAHAHAhahaha~ quhuhihit ihihihit— RAIDEHEN!” He repeated earning a chuckle from the man above “quit what, Shin?” He asked and moved to his stomach.

Undertaker jumped and almost bucked his friend off “NOHO! RAHAHAIDEN” “you didn’t answer my question!” Raiden grinned- both not noticing that Handler one just connected to them the second Raiden asked that.

“TIHIHICKLING MEHE!” Raiden grinned “you want me to tickle you? Sure thing~!” He sang and switched to his sides “NoHOT whaHAHahat IHIHi mEHEHEAnt!”

Reina kept quiet. She couldn’t see the situation but the laughter from Undertaker was making her freeze and listen to it. The boyish laughter which went up and down the whole time. She found it adorable.

“You two-“ Theo tried to get their attention- after all the handler joined in now, she was not supposed to be part of their banter!

Shin suddenly threw Raiden off- the taller landed on the table with a groan and Shin’s after giggles still poured out of him “youhu’re an ahass..” he murmured earning a chuckle from the other “then stop sighing!”

“BOYS!” Anju yelled, finally earning their attention. She pointed on their communication systems making their eyes widen. “Handler one?” Raiden asked

“Uh-huh?” The answer seemed shaky and flustered. Showing the two how long the girl had been there. Shin flushed bright red and Raiden chuckled at him.

“I- I just wanted to go though the plan one last time” Reina huffed and Shin growled at Raiden. “Sure..” he whispered and went off, disconnecting the team for awhile.

———————

86 eighty six— it was so sad but incredibly sweet as well in the end~ I wish we could’ve seen more of Shinei’s happy period

#86 eighty six #86 eighty six Tickles #Lee!Shinei #ler!Raiden #Reina #Shinei #Raiden #spearhead squadron #tickle fic #berry talks #berry’s hideout

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agentark88 · 2 years

Text

Think: Chapter Eighty-Six: The Newish Oldish Kid

My Hero Academia Fan Fiction by Agent ARK 88

Disclaimer: The following is a work of fan fiction using characters and settings from My Hero Academia/Boku no Hero Academia created by Kohei Horikoshi. I do not claim any ownership of characters present in this piece that are owned and created by Kohei Horikoshi. I do not own My Hero Academia/Boku no Hero Academia.

Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Warnings: This work contains mild language and violence.

Please be aware this piece is in second person perspective, following my original character, Think, Anna Kokoro, who is a transfer student from America.

Chapter Eighty-Six: The Newish Oldish Kid

You laid in the grass outside, just breathing in the fresh air on U.A. campus. You ran your fingers through the natural foliage, humming to yourself. Ochaco was lying next to you, content with having you beside her. Once you’d explained what had happened, she was grateful that you had returned. She was more concerned than anything, having not had heard from you in so long. She tried her best to catch you up, but a lot had happened.

“Yeah, we were pitted against class 1-B,” she continued to explain. “It wasn’t the same without you though.” She frowned. “Honestly, it was pretty hard to focus. Everyone seemed a bit out of it. Not to mention, a new student was introduced from class 1-B. After you and Shinso had joined class 1-A, I guess the teachers thought it wouldn’t be fair. He did have to prove himself in the competition between the two classes. He was pretty good.” She sighed. “He was kind of arrogant though.” She rolled over, twisting a blade of glass between her fingers. “He seemed familiar too.”

“Familiar?” you asked. “Did he transfer from another school from here in Japan?”

“He’s from the United States like you were.”

“Really? A lot of prospective heroes transfer overseas, don’t they?”

“U.A. is a pretty good hero school after all. One of the best.” Ochaco grinned. She narrowed her eyes mischievously. “So, how have the boys been since you’ve gotten back?”

You frowned, crossing your arms over your chest and looking up into the sky. “You’re just asking for the bet.”

“No,” she said, giggling. “Maybe.”

“Real nice.” You smiled despite yourself. “The boys…” You mulled over each of them in your mind. “They have been distant. I think they’re trying to give me some space, after… Well, you know…”

Ochaco fell silent. “I’m not really sure that I do know what happened. You didn’t actually talk about it.” She stood up, leaning over you with her hands on her knees. Her brown hair fell forward. “You told me about your parents and what school they forced you into, but I feel like you’re not telling me everything.”

You turned your face away, and the grass tickled your cheek. “There wasn’t much to tell. I was locked in my room for most of the time.”

“Shinso mentioned something about BioVirus being there. W-was he trying to kidnap you again?”

You winced, thinking about what Kobura had sacrificed to get you back into U.A.. Your jaw tightened. “I’m surprised Shinso said anything at all, considering he didn’t tell anyone what had happened. He was the only one there when I left.” Your voice was more venomous than you intended it to be, and you instantly regretted your words. “Kobur—” You shut your mouth. “BioVirus didn’t get a chance to take me. They took him to prison right after he threatened to hurt my parents.”

Ochaco blinked her big brown eyes at you. Her eyebrows knitted together in concern. “Still, it must have been pretty scary to be targeted like that again.” Ochaco tilted her head in thought. “To be fair, Mr. Aizawa sort of explained what happened. Shinso was pretty distraught after you left. He cut himself off from everyone. Kaminari couldn’t even get him to quip a retort when he told a less than appropriate joke.” Ochaco leaned back, stretching her arms overhead.

You let out a heavy breath. “I…” You bit hard into your bottom lip. “I don’t really want to talk about it anymore. Can we just focus on moving forward? I’ve got some hero studies to catch up on since I’ve been gone.”

“I’m not going to say no to some positivity. I hate talking about the depressing stuff anyway.”

Ochaco held out a hand to you, and you took it. She helped you stand up. The two of you spent the rest of the day together, eating candy and chatting. It turned out Ochaco had been a bit bolder toward Midoriya, but it was sailing right over his head. She had asked if he wanted to have a picnic out on the courtyard lawn, and he asked if Todoroki could join them. Needless to say, that was an awkward lunch period with the three of them.

The way to describe the two days after returning to U.A. were peaceful. The anxiety had left your chest. You managed to rest easier in your dorm. You also managed to make it to class without any problems, despite the boys providing you with a little more space. You would have to ask them to walk with you again. You missed Shinso and Shoto’s early morning company.

This particular morning, you were juggling way too many books in your hands. You woke up a little later than normal, and you didn’t find enough time to shove them in your backpack. You were regretting not taking the extra minute or two to do so now. You shifted the load into one of your arms to free up your hand for the door to the stairs.

“I thought that was you, Shortcake,” a male voice drawled out.

The hair on the back of your neck stood on end. Nausea climbed up your throat. The books you were holding fell with a heavy thud as your heart raced in your chest. It couldn’t have been him. You hadn’t heard that voice in so long. You hadn’t heard that voice since you were still living in the United States.

“You know it’s rude not to look someone in the eyes when they’re talking to you,” the boy continued.

You were paralyzed in fear, trembling. Memories. Painful, embarrassing, and haunting memories collapsed in on your brain. It couldn’t have been Jett, the same boy that had broken your heart in middle school. He ruined your confidence with his false niceties. He broke your heart and your trust all in one fell swoop. You could still see that rose being crushed between his fingers.

“Don’t tell me that you don’t remember me, Shortcake. We used to be such good friends. It’s your old pal, Jett Gibson. Don’t tell me it’s not you,” he said. His footsteps got closer, and you steeled yourself. He leaned ahead of you. His long black hair swept past you like a curtain, now dyed at the tips in bright yellow colors. His orange eyes examined you with curiosity. He grinned. “See. I knew it was you.” He whistled. “You sure do look different. This hero school must have done wonders for you, Shortcake.” He reached out, casually brushing his fingers through your hair. “I’m surprised your parents let you put blue highlights in your hair.”

“They’re natural,” you managed, gulping. The color only recently had started coming back in after your mother had dyed it.

“Wish mine were,” Jett replied, motioning to his yellow tips. “Heard rumors of a mind freak roaming these halls, but then I also heard you’d transferred out. It was nice to bump into you.” He kicked over the books you dropped, so he could open the door to the stairs. “See you around, Shortcake,” he crooned. His voice made you dizzy.

The door shut behind him, and your knees went weak. Ochaco had heard about Jett, but it wasn’t as if she had ever seen him. That’s why he seemed familiar to her. You took in a ragged breath.

He’s not in your class, you thought. He can’t hurt you here.

You’d just gained some semblance of normalcy back, and now a ghost from your past had appeared. Jett had always had a good quirk, but you never imagined that he would have gone to a hero school in Japan. It was natural for you as your father grew up here. Neither of his parents had a connection to Japan, as far as you understood. Even when the two of you were “friends,” his Japanese was hardly passable, and he used to make fun of his own pronunciations. It was almost as if he’d gone to U.A. to spite you, knowing how much he had affected your life at such a young age.

You collected your books, shakily putting them into your bag. You were going to be late to class, but there was no helping it. You ran, hoping you’d make it at a reasonable time and that Aizawa was rolling in late as usual. Unfortunately, that was not the case.

You stumbled into the classroom, and Aizawa shot you a dark glare.

“You’re late,” he muttered, and the room tensed.

“Sorry,” you said. “I-I don’t have an excuse,” you admitted, bowing apologetically.

Bakugo clicked his tongue, swinging his legs onto his desk like a delinquent. Aizawa’s gaze shifted over to him, his fury relocating.

“Legs off your desk, Bakugo. This is a classroom,” Mr. Aizawa warned.

You scuttled toward your seat, thankful that the attention had left you. Bakugo casually removed his feet from his desk, frowning. He sat forward with his hands in his pockets, shrugging.

“Whatever,” he scoffed.

You knew Bakugo well enough that he’d done that whole performance for your sake. You’d have to thank him later for the distraction. Mr. Aizawa was probably ready to lecture you.

Class droned on, but you were as attentive as you could be. You took pages and pages of notes in hopes it would distract you from the terrible truth you’d learned today. Your old bully was now in your dream school, training to be a hero no less. You chewed on the back of your pen anxiously.

The bell rang for dismissal, and you jolted upright in your seat. You buried your head in your hands in embarrassment from getting so easily frightened. You slid from your chair, collecting your things, but you couldn’t help feeling like you were being stared at.

“It’s not like you to be late,” Shoto said calmly. “I apologize if it had been my fault. Did you have trouble finding the classroom? I can start walking with you again if you would like. I was trying to…” Shoto cleared his throat. “…allow you some time to reacclimate again. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with my presence.” His shoulders dropped with his admission.

You turned your gaze up to him. “You don’t make me uncomfortable, Shoto, and I would really appreciate the company.” You strained a smile. “I-I didn’t get lost this morning.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “You didn’t? Then, what happened?”

You pressed your lips together, contemplating saying anything about your encounter with your old classmate. You didn’t really want to worry him. Besides, Jett was in class 1-B, and you probably wouldn’t have that many interactions with him.

Shinso shouldered his way past Shoto, but it was gentle. He glanced at you, hesitating to continue out the classroom door. Things had been awkward with him since your return. You weren’t sure if he felt guilty for keeping his knowledge about you a secret, or if he felt partially to blame that he couldn’t stop you from leaving, but he was definitely avoiding you. He paused only for a second, before he continued on his way. You’d have to talk to Shinso, just to air everything out. He wasn’t to blame for what had happened, and you felt bad for even being frustrated with him for not talking about it.

“We can discuss it another time, if what happened isn’t something you are comfortable sharing,” Shoto offered.

You blinked at him. “That would help,” you said.

Shoto nodded in understanding, but he wasn’t the one who ever needed an explanation. Bakugo’s thunderous footfalls left you with no misunderstandings of who was approaching you from behind, and he wasn’t going to be as easy to appease.

“You owe me for that, Big Brain,” Bakugo said, referring to the distraction he had given you earlier in class. “What happened? You’ve been making it fine to class on your own for days now.”

“Sorry. I…” you gulped, feeling clammy sweat prick up on your skin. Thinking about the situation you had to deal with this morning made you squirm. You looked around for an excuse, but almost all of your classmates had already filtered out of the room.

Bakugo’s vermillion eyes scanned you over suspiciously. “If you just tell us what’s going on, we can do something about it,” he barked.

You quivered in response to his booming voice. Shoto placed a hand on your shoulder for reassurance.

“You don’t have to growl at her like an animal,” Shoto said to Bakugo, glaring at him.

Bakugo’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t snap back at Todoroki. His expression relaxed. “Something is clearly bothering you,” Bakugo said softer this time. He clicked his tongue, when you averted your gaze from his.

A sharp whistle ripped Bakugo’s attention away. It came from the classroom entrance.

“So, this is the famous 1-A classroom,” Jett said in false awe. “Thought it would be in shambles, considering how destructive this class of rejects are.”

Bakugo brought back his hands, small explosions popping off in his palms. “Who the hell is this Extra?” he asked.

You’d frozen in place, fear forcing your eyes downward. You curled your hands into fists on your lap, and you were visibly shaken by his sudden appearance. You didn’t expect him to show up to your homeroom. You thought he wouldn’t go out of his way to see you. You hoped this morning had just been a coincidence since you both attended the same school.

“That’s the new transfer student from class 1-B with that vocal modulation quirk, remember?” Shoto simply stated. “Our class fought his in our joint combat training.”

Bakugo’s defensive stance uncoiled a bit. “Never heard of him.”

Jett gave a lopsided sardonic smile. He put his hands out in a show of flashy presentation. “Maybe I should introduce myself again, then.” He took a step into the room.

Your whole body reacted, quaking at his intrusion. You shot up from your chair, backing into the desk next to you. Bakugo’s attention snapped in your direction. Realization came over him almost instantaneously as his expression hardened.

“Jett Gibson,” he introduced. “I’d say it was a pleasure if it actually was.” He grinned, tilting his head to the side, his predatory gaze slipping to you. “What’s the matter, Shortcake? You look uncomfortable.”

Shoto frowned from the pet name that Jett had so readily called you. “What gives you the right to be so informal with our friend?” he asked. Todoroki took a step protectively ahead of you.

“She was mine first,” Jett said casually.

His words made you sick. You were never his. He made a show of making sure everyone in your middle school knew how weird you were. He tore your confidence apart, piece by piece.

Bakugo bristled beside you, practically seething. “No one owns her,” Bakugo said. “Watch your mouth, Extra.”

Jett’s orange eyes slid over, his casual stare watching Bakugo’s movements. The temperature in the room shifted, as Shoto took in your growing discomfort.

“I’m surprised you found friends to take you in, Shortcake. I wonder if they know how weird you actually are. Even if this is a hero school, there can’t be that many freaks like you around. Maybe they pity you. I mean I know that I did. Everyone always saw you as a freak, and who could blame them? You can read anyone’s mind with your quirk at any time. You could even be reading mine right now. Gives me the creeps just thinking about it.” He grabbed his arms, shaking dramatically. “Such a manipulative and sneaky quirk for a hero, don’t you think? They must have made a mistake letting you in here. I wouldn’t put it past you to cheat your way in.”

“She would never cheat,” Bakugo snarled, taking a step forward. Explosions blasted off in his palms as a warning for Jett to back off.

“Anna is one of the kindest and most respectful individuals that I have ever met. I think you’re mistaken. If you keep saying such terrible things, I won’t hesitate to defend her in a physical manner.” Frost crept up Shoto’s right arm. A puff of condensed air left his lips.

Move, you begged yourself. Don’t just stand there frozen. Move.

Bakugo glanced between you and Jett. “You were the reason she was late to class,” he said.

Jett shrugged. “We had a chat.” He adjusted his school uniform tie. “Do you blame me for wanting to catch up with an old classmate?”

“Actually, I could find a means to blame you for ‘wanting’ to catch up. Considering the shit you’re spewing out of your mouth, I’m going to guess you were a real asshole about your reunion too,” Bakugo snapped.

“So scary. Monoma was right about you guys after all.”

“Stop,” you mumbled under your breath.

Jett raised an eyebrow, grinning. “She speaks? Thought you were going to let your dogs handle this.”

“Don’t talk about them like that,” you said with a little more force in your voice.

Jett leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees mockingly. “Or what, shortcake? You never fought back when we were in middle school together. Why would things change now?”

Your fists clenched tighter at your sides. You bit into your lip.

“What? You don’t like me anymore, Shortcake? Can’t even respond correctly?” he cooed condescendingly. “Are you going to act like you never had a thing for me? That would certainly disappointing. After seeing you this morning, I even made sure that I remembered to pick up something extra special just for you.” He reached back toward his bag.

Shoto and Bakugo tensed beside you. He procured a single red rose from his backpack, twisting it between his fingers with a knowing smile.

“I-I…” Fear rippled through your tiny form, remembering how viciously he had ripped your heart from your chest when you had confessed to him. Your attention fixated on the flower in his hands. You had spent your entire allowance on that single rose, only for him to crush you at your most vulnerable state.

“U-um, I was wondering. Would you be my boyfriend?” your voice came from Jett’s mouth. His quirk mimicked you so perfectly that the memory rattled through you as if you were experiencing it again. “It still gives me the creeps that you would ask me such a disgusting question.” He crumpled the petals of the flower between his fist. “Freak.”

Bakugo shot forward, and actual fear flashed across Jett’s face. A large explosion popped off, forcing you to shield your eyes. When the smoke cleared, Jett was on the ground, shaking. Todoroki had discreetly created a sheet of ice beneath Jett. It had been timed perfectly with Bakugo’s attack, making it nearly unavoidable. The way Jett was sprawled out, he must have slipped on the ice. Bakugo didn’t actually hit him, there were no marks on Jett’s uniform, but the blast was close enough to make Jett react and fall.

“I told you to watch your mouth, Extra. The next explosion will knock your teeth out,” Bakugo growled down at him. “If I catch you talking about Anna like that again, I’ll kill you, got it?”

“For once, I agree with Bakugo. Your words are unfounded. You are the one in the wrong. Should you actively seek to make my classmate uncomfortable again, I will use force as well to put it to an end.”

Jett fumbled to get a foothold, and he barely managed to stand up again. “You’re crazy!” he shouted. He shivered from head to toe. “What kind of hero apprentice tries to kill another student?”

“Want to find out?” Bakugo snapped back, grinning. His red eyes flared open in excitement. His palm splayed open, and a wild display of explosions fizzled and popped within his fingertips.

Jett’s incredulous stare flickered between Bakugo and Todoroki. His hair was a messy tangle of yellow and black. It wasn’t until his gaze fell back onto you that he gained back some of his composure. He ran a hand through his hair, heaving in a heavy breath. He pointed a finger in your direction, and Bakugo faked a jolt forward. Jett flinched, faltering in his next declaration.

“We’ll finish this, another time and another place, but we’ll finish this,” he said, voice trembling. “Your dogs won’t always be around to fight your battles.” He gave a wary look toward your two male classmates, before rushing from the classroom.

“Yeah, you better run, Extra!” Bakugo bellowed after him. He clicked his tongue, relaxing his stance. His muscles barely unclenched though, suggesting he hadn’t fully put his guard down. Bakugo’s crimson gaze flashed back to you. “Are you okay, Anna?”

You shivered, mind tumbling back to the here and now. “I think so,” you said, feeling ashamed of yourself for not reacting.

“You know that boy from your previous school? The one in the United States?” Shoto asked.

You hesitantly nodded.

“Strange, I thought that they vetted transfer students heavily. The other ones I’ve met are more than amicable. This Jett Gibson seems to be carelessly hostile, not in a Bakugo-kind-of-way either,” Shoto said.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, Half N’ Half?” Bakugo asked.

“You’re hostile in a more tolerable and meticulous kind of way,” Shoto said simply.

“Are you trying to get me to blast you?”

“Not intentionally.”

“Let’s not fight,” you interjected, already struggling to slow down your pounding heart. You pulled yourself and your school stuff together. You winced when you caught the crumpled flower out of your peripherals.

“I’ll walk you back to our next class,” Bakugo said, unflinching. He gripped you by the elbow, guiding you over the destroyed rose.

“I’m coming too,” Shoto declared, following close behind.

Bakugo’s gaze stayed forward, but you felt the small comforting squeeze he gave your arm. “A heads up that your x-psychopath was attending U.A. would have been nice,” he muttered under his breath.

“I would have told you—”

Bakugo gave you a sharp look. His crimson glare was warning enough not to lie to him.

“I… I didn’t know he was here until I ran into him this morning. I really didn’t have time to tell you. I know I need to do better to tell you. Sorry.”

Bakugo clicked his tongue. “I don’t want an apology. I want you to tell me when you’re facing something that I can clearly take care of for you.”

“Something you can take care of? Katsuki, I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me.” Another fight on his record would not bode well for his standing with Mr. Aizawa, let alone his reputation. He could get expelled if he got too violent.

“Let me worry about my own damn decisions. That Extra will get what he deserves one way or another. If I’m the guy who needs to teach him a lesson, then I’d be proud to blast that smug grin off his face.” Bakugo pounded his fist into his open palm, and a small explosion popped off.

“No one is allowed to treat you so horridly, Anna. I will step in as well, should the need arise.” Shoto ran a hand through his silken hair, peering around him.

“The coward probably won’t even approach you after what he went through today. Bet he was just trying to look tough by threatening you when he left.” Bakugo scowled. “I’m not taking any chances.” He reached a hand out, ruffling your hair. “You seem to get into trouble even without losers announcing their dastardly future plans to you.”

“I don’t do it on purpose,” you sputtered, swatting his hand back.

“It does seem like danger is drawn to you,” Shoto admitted. “It’s better to be cautious than regretful, especially after everything you’ve been through.”

“See? Even Icy Hot agrees with me.” Bakugo claps you on your bag.

“That observation doesn’t really help me much though, does it? We’re upcoming heroes. Danger is a part of our daily lives. I can’t expect the two of you to be there for everything. I have to be able to handle these things on my own.”

“Why the hell wouldn’t I be there when you’re in danger, Big Brain?” Bakugo blew angry air from his nostrils.

“I don’t know. You’ll be busy with your own hero work.” You threw your hands up in frustration. Your gaze shifted downward. “I’m sick of feeling powerless, helpless. It doesn’t make sense with this much power at my fingertips.” Your shoulders sank.

Bakugo narrowed his eyes at you. “Power is not the only thing that defines a hero, Anna. You and I both know that.”

“Heroes need help all the time. Why do you need to take on your problems by yourself? Even my father has sidekicks. Do you think he could get that espionage work done without Heart of Hearts? He sticks out like a flame in a pitch-black room.” Shoto rolled his eyes, as if mentioning his father irritated him.

“I guess,” you managed.

Quirk training in the school gym went quickly. Shoto and Bakugo stayed close by just in case you needed them, but Jett didn’t confront you for the rest of the day. The boys walked you back to your room after classes had ended. Bakugo nearly convinced you to let him stay and hang out for a little bit at your dorm, but you insisted that you needed to rest. He begrudgingly left you alone.

You woke up some time early the next morning. Streaks of sunlight poured in from the common room that you were standing in. Your bare feet tingled from the cold. You returned to your room, readying yourself for the day thanks to the key attached to your wrist. You were surprised to hear a knock coming from your dorm room door.

Kirishima grinned brightly at you when you opened the door. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Good morning, Princess,” he said cheerfully.

“Good morning,” you said through a yawn. “Were we supposed to meet this morning?”

“Um… No. Yes? Bakubro asked me to walk you to class. He said that he had some stuff to do with Todoroki? Something about clarifying something with the Endeavor Agency. He, Midoriya, and Todoroki are all in the same work-study agency now. Weird, huh? Well, I guess not too weird. Endeavor is the number one hero now. And, I guess you kind of already knew that. I’ll stop talking.” Kirishima shrugged, tugging at a red-spike atop his head. “Ah, anyway. Bakubro asked, so I came. But, I am more than happy to walk you to class any time. I’m sorry I’m pretty early, but you look like you’re ready to go.” Kirishima offered his hand to you.

You blushed, but you took it. His hand was so large, so rough in yours. You always forgot how tough he was because he was such a sweet guy. His calloused fingers were just an extension of his hard work. He swung your arm with his, a little too excitedly, but it was cute. When you reached the courtyard, Kirishima let go, but he stayed close.

The two of you were pretty early, which you expected from Kirishima. You were surprised he didn’t ask you about an early morning workout too, but he probably thought Bakugo wouldn’t be too happy about the favor he asked being altered. As soon as the two of you walked into the main building, a chill swept up your spine.

It was early for most students to be roaming around the halls. Your eyes trained onto Jett Gibson, chatting it up with Neito Monoma in the middle of the hallway. Your next step faltered, and Kirishima straightened, alert to your sudden change in demeanor. He looked down the hallway at the two boys and then back at you. Kirishima put a hand on your shoulder, and you shrank away from his touch.

“What’s the matter, Princess?” he asked.

You were already backpedaling. Jett’s orange eyes narrowed. His grin widened upon seeing you.

“Shortcake,” Jett called, his hands sliding into his school uniform pockets. “Funny seeing you here without your two mad dogs around.”

Kirishima’s shoulders crowded his ears. He frowned toward the approaching peers. You froze. Something deep within you was captured by Jett’s voice. His vocal tone had shifted to one that thrummed against your skull, low and sultry, making your muscles weak. He must have been using his quirk, or at least a piece of it to keep you from running.

“What’s the matter? You’re not going to run away from me?” Jett teased.

This set off Kirishima. He immediately took a step between you and Jett. “Does she have a reason to run from you?” he asked, part of his body hardened defensively. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but you’re not being very nice to my friend.”

“Class 1-A, always leading with their brawn instead of their brains,” Monoma said, with a flourish of his hand. “Gibson was only talking to his old friend. There’s no need to be so hostile.” Monoma ran a hand through his straight blond hair, chuckling.

Kirishima glanced back at you. “Do you know this guy?”

“Know me? We used to be best classmate pals back in middle school. Go ahead and tell him who I am,” Jett said. His voice, melodically sinister, made your mouth dry.

Kirishima paid him no mind, waiting for your response. A grumble of annoyance tumbled out of Jett’s throat, making you almost want to cover your ears. While Kirishima’s attention focused on you, Jett got closer. You made a small frightened noise, taking a step back. This drove Kirishima to put a larger wedge between you and Jett.

“You’re making her uncomfortable. Step back,” Kirishima warned. His arm was up, holding Jett back, while his other hand was held out toward you to make sure there was enough space.

Kirishima’s chivalrous move left an opening for Monoma to slip by. He reached out to you, and you smacked his hand away with enough force to startle him. Monoma pouted, pulling his hand back toward himself as if he were falsely hurt.

“My, my, you and your class are violent,” Monoma said. “And, here I thought Jett was being a little too harsh when he described the kind of person you were.”

“I just want to be friends again, Shortcake,” Jett said, grinning. He moved forward, and Kirishima scowled back at him.

“Back off,” Kirishima said. The force in his voice astonished you. The full front of his body had hardened, keeping Jett at bay. This defensive move had Jett reeling back, but Kirishima still hadn’t used much force.

Monoma reached out to Kirishima, possibly to copy his quirk, but Kirishima was faster, shifting back and placing a hand on you. Kirishima started guiding you back to leave, but Monoma reached his hand out toward you. In a moment of realization, you stopped, feeling the familiar tug of your quirk brush your senses, but it wasn’t you using it. Instead of retreating, you ran toward Monoma in worry. His smirk faltered, and his hands covered his head. An agonizing roar filled the air as Monoma fell to the ground.

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thought-42 · 1 year

Text

Flying on a path, moving through the sky

Critical Role, 645 words, Lerryn, Evandrin Ok but what if it isn’t makeup? When Laerryn is very young --thirty, she knows in retrospect-- she runs away from the noise and chaotic unfamiliarity of a schoolmate’s birthday party and nobody finds her for sixteen hours.

Most of this is lost to the blurry memory of childhood, but the one thing that stands out clearly is the way the meaningless white noise of too much sensation washed over her head, and the single line of glowing gold that she had followed for a long time until existence stopped hurting. She remembers the weird heat shimmer wavering off the gold, the way it had seemed made for her, a path into the vast emptiness of sky and space.

For a long time she thought she’d imagined it. She wasn’t a particularly whimsical child, her imagination always more inclined to expanding upon the potential of already exstant reality, but she didn’t make the connection to the Apogee Solstice until sometime in her eighties, when she’d gotten access to Patia’s library for the first time and started reading more in depth accounts. Took fifty years to understand that she had quite literally followed a leyline to safety.

“Nobody is going to understand the relevance of this,” Van says, leaning so far back in his chair that the front legs come off the ground as he tries to catch a glimpse of their waiter. “It’s just going to be a line.”

“When the fuck have I ever cared what other people think?” Laerryn asks. She’s been picking resentfully at her fruit and honey while Evandrin works his way through a giant plate of various proteins and six cups of coffee. Laerryn had stolen his first one, but she’s got enough energy buzzing through her already as the countdown in her head continues.

They’d picked a cafe directly below the art studio that the tattoo artist she’s chosen operates out of, and the colourful awning above the entrance keeps fluttering in the corner of her vision, fanning the flames of her eager impatience.

“All I’m saying is that my mother has already started referring to you as the ‘Knight School dropout with a face tattoo’.”

“Your mother loves me,” she says, feigning a blase confidence that she’s never felt in regards to this subject.

“That’s true. I’m just fucking with you,” he says. She nods to show she’s already aware.

“It’s accountability,” she says. “I-- My research. I know it’s possible. I know... I can do it, I can’t let myself give up.”

She’d measured the exact path of the leyline she wants to create, and the point at which it will branch off from an already existing line. There’s no way to know if it’s the same one she saw as a child, but in her head she’s allowing herself to conflate the two to choose the colour. It’s hard to represent the intended angles of the shift she’s planning on what is essentially a two dimensional plane, but she’s done her best with the maths she’s been using in her models.

She imagines the entire city following that single golden pathway to something new as the artist draws the line down her forehead, tiny transmutations tickling and itching as her skin and the ink become one combined material. Today is the first step, but she knows it won’t be finished for a long time. Alone, the line is striking but meaningless. The right colour, the proportional lengths. A straight line. Beginning, then ending all on one plane.

For now.

The next time the leylines will be visible she’ll be 150 years old. The next time she sees her leyline, if she’s smart enough and works hard enough and doesn’t let herself get distracted, it will be angled in a new direction. When she comes back to get her tattoo finished, they’ll all be on another plane.

“Hey,” she says, snapping her fingers at Evandrin. The artist pulls away, frowning at her. “You’ve gotta come with me next time, too.”

#critical role #Laerryn Coramar Seelie #tumblrfic tag #shh it's my birthday I'm allowed to drink wine and post fic that would have been better represented as a one line textpost #cr exu tag

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visd3stele · 2 years

Text

Turn back the tides

summary: Can you write a tfota fanfic where During her exile Jude gets killed Cardan sees her dead body, and The next day he is brought back in time to when Jude was still his seneschal in fact he is brought back to when Grimsen first asked to be a smith. Cardan with the knowledge of the future prevents Jude from being kidnapped and tries to win her heart. He can no longer be controlled by Jude through the bargain BTW and Jude begins to realize this. And Cardan ask a request of her for the bargain to stick. (She spends the night with him)

@nish247

tw: a bit of angst at the beginning, a pinch of child abuse, smut implied, cardan's pov lmk if i missed anything

masterlist ; requests

a/n: requested by @fantasyfox10123

first fanart: rosiethorns second fanart: lexaart (found them both on pinterest, i hope the artists are correctly listed as i've taken their names from the comments)

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

One thousand three hundred and fourty four hours. Eighty thousands six hundred and fourty minutes. Four million eight hundred thirty eight thousand and four hundred seconds. Four million eight hundred thirty eight thousand and four hundred and one seconds, four million eight hundred thirty eight thousand four hundred and two seconds.

I lounged on the couch in the anteroom of my bed chambers. Counting. My tail swayed lazily with each number that echoed in my mind. Four million eight hundred thirty eight thousand four hundred and three seconds. Since Jude left.

Well, since I exiled her. But my sweet nightmare is too smart not to have caught on the plan I've devised. Which can only mean she choose to stay.

I twirled on the other side. Perhaps the shift would stir my mind off such horrific thoughts. It used to work - being active as a child, I barely noticed my mother wasn't nearby. She'd pick me up and coo at me, tickle my belly and wrap my tail around her fingers every few days. Before being gone again. "Now, be a good, little fae and don't bother mommy, Cardan. I have so much to catch up since your mean father wouldn't let me have fun as long as you needed my body. Show mommy it wasn't all for nothing, sweetling," she'd say.

Now she has returned. She's here, at my court. Proud of her son, the king. Jude shall come back soon too. We were married after all. The stubborn mortal wouldn't agree with something as unsoundable of as being my wife if she couldn't rip off the benefits. I have proven myself worthy, hence the agreement. Perhaps Jude is catching up with all the time stolen from her in the mortal realm.

I moved again, draping my feet over the couch's nearest arm rest. My tail wrapped and unwrapped from my calf, still counting the seconds of Jude's departure like a loyal pendula. Oh, Jude. Jude, Jude, Jude, Jude, Jude. Come back soon, Jude. Bring that fire with you, burn me and the castle whole. Just come home.

Gulping down the half full wine bottle I threw carelessly at the couch's last night, my eyes closed. Pictures of her flood the darkness. Flashes of her angry frown right before her unseparable blade shone in the moonlight, frames of her deep in thought, cooking the craziest of planes and a crease of stubbornness above her top lip to see it through.

The thoughts got heavier and heavier. I hadn't much control over my mind. Barely aware of my fingers letting the bottle slip, I heard a muffled crack before an irony smell caught to my senses. Scrunching my nose, I looked around. It appears I have fallen asleep. But to what cruel happening do I owe falling asleep thinking of Jude and finding myself in such a dire dream.

There was grease everywhere, even in the air. The walls of what looked like the tiniest house I've seen were moldy at corners, peppered with holes that unraveled them as if they're made of paper. Odd looking objects scattered on the ground between plates, glasses and cutlery: a round, deep vase with handles, another one less deep with only one handle. I even spotted a bottle of wine, broken in two sharp halves.

It looked like a domestic battle field. My tail coiled around my torso, my fingers bowling in tight fists at my side. I crouched on the ground, looking for a hiding spot that wouldn't restrict my sight. But as soon as I was on the floor's level, tears pinched my eyes. My body managed to understand the view before my mind could even begin to wrap itself around it.

Red. So much red. Pouring still from some wound I couldn't spot, hidden under the hair. It used to be so freshly brown. The color of forests. Now it was sticky and darkened by blood, a tainted color like rust and decay. The flames licking at her eyes have been put down, nothing but coldness staring back at me. Cuts, some yellow, leaking with pus, some already drained of blood, some ripped through her clothes, covered her body.

King Eldred has been brutally killed. Even drunk, I could realize it. But he looked so peaceful in his death. Afterward. Like a sleep. Jude didn't. Her face has paled and sunk in her features, looking so much like when she returned from the sea. Drained, tired, scared, broken. Except, she never was broken when she emerged from the sea. Jude could never be helpless. It was strange to see her as such and I doubled back in shame. She would despise such thoughts.

I leaned forward. Shacking her. Screaming for her to wake up. "You can't die! You can't die, Jude! You're no mortal anymore, you're High Queen of Elfhame. Wake up!" I pleaded until my voice has gone hoarse, tasting my tears joined with snot.

Surprising even myself, I heard the door cracking open. See, Jude, the training really worked. I am a good spy. But not even the chance to point out how messily distracted I was didn't bring her back. She truly was gone. And when the large, tall figure stepped inside, carrying a hood reverently in front of her with disturbingly steady green hands, I understood how.

The Red Cape dipped the hood in Jude's blood, my queen's blood and I could do nothing to stop it. I was yanked back to my senses, in a pool of wine splashed on the carpet.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

A couple of days have passed since the dream. I couldn't catch a wink of sleep, much to my council's despair.

"Maybe Your Highness needs to drink more tea? Instead of wine?" One of them suggested after yet another meeting I was too distracted to fully attend.

My mother made it her prerogative to be part of these meetings. Lately, as I've been unable to do so, even stepping up and aid me in my leading duties.

"Something on your mind, my son?" She asked once the meeting ended. After the dreaded dream I have begun writing to Jude. I intended to give her space after the exile. Calm her undoubting rage, see through my carefully crafted plan, appreciate it, but still punishing me for going behind her back.

But after seeing her dead body violated by the gruesome ritual of a Red Cape, I couldn't bare not knowing of her. I begged her to return with every letter, needing to see her, my queen, my Jude.

"Has the messenger returned?"

"I don't believe so, no. Are you expecting important news?"

"Nothing to concern you, Lady Asha. Personal affairs."

"Oh, dear," she laughed. "You know that if you want to bring a consort or two for company you don't have to hide from me."

"Nothing like that, mother," I hissed. I knew Lady Asha couldn't possibly know to whom I'm writing. And her assumptions aren't far fetched at all. But the thought of calling Jude a mere consort filled me with rage. The mothers of my siblings and all the other consorts, are, of course, respectable faes. But I knew what they meant to King Eldred - and Jude was so much more for me; I know what little power they had in the Kingdom - and Jude wielded and wished to wield so much more.

I rushed to my chambers, yanking the desk's drawers open in search of paper and a quill. The scribbled writing looked rushed, like my unsettling thoughts. The pen leaked here and there, brushing over words with ink pools.

Jude,

Not even responding to my missives is ridiculous and beneath you and I hate it.

Cardan

I stuffed it in my shirt, held in place by my tail, not patient enough to wait until the messenger I have sent earlier this evening to return. Without the letter from today there were three more Jude didn't bother acknowledge. I just needed to know she's fine. Alive. Silence wasn't helping my worries. So, naturally, I had to go see for myself.

Despite myself, being High King grew on me. And seeing the Land witter away by the day because of my despair bore a new feeling of tightness in my chest.

I traveled to the mortal realm stealthy. One time I overheard my sister and Vivienne talk about the latter's house in the land of humans. From what I made of it, it wasn't far from where I was right now. But all these tall buildings, with the many windows and cage-like stairs at each, looked the same. I can't believe Vivienne would leave the luxury of her father's mansion in the Fae realm to live in this.

Thankfully, the mortals sleep during the night - oh, but what they miss! - and I can slip from door to door searching for my queen. I picked at the lock of one of the buildings, only to find out these ugly homes, weren't, in fact, homes. But a multitude of little houses crammed into one another.

And there were so many of them... and so small! How do humans live in these?

Composing myself, I tried the first door. It opened easily and I slid through a small crease, leaving it open for a quick exit in case it's the wrong house. As soon as I've seen the grotesque dolls lined up on a shelf, a collection of watches hanging on a wall and mirrors at every step I knew it can't be Vivi's. Definitely not her style.

I checked five more doors - an angry old lady shoving me away with her knitting needles', one full of drunk revelers (I would have stayed if I wasn't on a such important mission... they even offered me a drink, naive souls!), one where small people talked to a sleeping audience of two lovers wrapped into each other and one where three angry dogs chased me out - before I stumbled over one that gave me chills like never felt before.

The door opened just like the others. But the crack it let out sent shivers down my spine. My blood ran cold. It sounded just like the door in my dream. I took tentatively steps forward, eyes darting all over, hoping I wouldn't miss anything. I got the feeling I'd better be ten times more cautious in this place.

The walls were all the same. Everywhere. I stopped with a start upon turning on the corner. The main room was a mess: furniture arranged untidly, broken glass spreaded like puzzle pieces on the parquet and... holes in the walls. Round, fist shaped holes in the walls by the size of bowls. And the metallic scent, now more frowzy than it was in my dream.

I slid my feet on the floor, testing each step for creaks before leaning on it. It was just a dream. It has to be. Because if not, that meant Jude was indeed dead.

No, I shook my head. No. It's just a coincidence.

And I managed to fool myself until I saw the reddish hood hanged like a beloved portrait of a loved one over the weird box with small humans inside. A Red Cape's hood.

I stumbled back. In a moment of haggard, my tail freed itself from the containment of my clothes, swooshing the air hazardously. My missive fell. I hadn't notice at the time. It was the logical course of events that downed on me later, not sure why or how I could be smoothed enough to entertain such thoughts even after I left the horrendous place.

Jude's tomb.

No! I cried, rushing out of the house. The walls were closing in, the air turning stale. I am not sure I was quiet as I trained to be. All I understood was the image of Jude's cadaveric face, replacing over and over through the tears running down my face.

I didn't see the stairs. Tripped over my own tail like I was a baby again, crying for the ghost of a touch, a smile, a love I shall not receive.

I picked myself up. For a second, as I rolled down the dark hall of the building, the images stopped ponding in my mind. Then they came in in closer shots. I could see it clearer, begun to notice details I have missed the first time: Jude's parted lips and clenched teeth, a small wrinkle at the bridge of her nose, her thumb locked around her little finger, the one a servant in Madoc's house bit off.

Even in the last moments she stood her ground. She kept fighting. If not the Red Cape that attacked her, then death itself. My brave, terrifying queen. Always the fighter.

This can't end like this. Jude can't end like this. Dead in a honorless place, buried without mourners or speeches of her bravery held loud and clear over weeping heads, adorned in gold and richness worthy of only the High Queen of Elfame, the true nobility of the land, after years of ruling through prosperity I knew she'll bring.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

"Grimsen." He startled, almost dropping the... whatever it was he was making now.

"My Lord, what brings you to my..."

"Have you ever considered time travel?" I cut him off. Maybe being straightforward would cost me more than subtilty would. But I hadn't time to lose.

Well, if what I had in mind could work, I had all the time in the world. That wasn't the point, though. I cannot suffer one more second of life knowing Jude has passed the sill of it.

"Excuse me, My Lord?"

The idea of turning back the time obsessed me. I knew bringing back someone from the dead wasn't an option. Not a viable one, anyway.

All I could think of were "what if's". What if I hadn't exile her? What if she was never captured, so I needn't make no deal? What if I could save her? Because she was a fighter. Though she didn't lack patience and dedication, she would still much rather deal with problems quickly, with her own two hands.

I enjoyed working in the shadows. Thinking, contemplating different ways a variable can work out. More subtle. And what is more subtle than correcting a mistake or two when one has the power to make them disappear?

"Time travel, Grimsen. Don't tell me it never piqued your interest." I arched a brow at him, letting a conspirational smile play on my lips, hoping it would be inviting enough for the old fae.

"Why is my king asking?"

"Call it a curiosity inclined to your craft. A man talented as yourself, with such achievements to pride with, must have thought of the simple, mere time traveling question. No?"

I kept the smile, widening it to seem warmer. I joined the other eyebrow to its mirror, miming admiration. My voice was emptied of any sarcasm, devoid of color as I worded only the truest of my thoughts. Not only to hide my real intention by making myself believable, but also because I could not lie.

Grimsen's shoulders relaxed. A smile boost on his face as he straighten his back and rolled his joints. I cringed at the crack of bones, Jude's figure laying in that house again in front of my eyes.

"Shall I take this change of attitude as a yes?"

The old man at least had the decency to look sheepish. Though if it was but an act I wouldn't be too surprised.

"Apologies, My Lord. I have gotten ahead of myself. The interest your grace exhibits for my work is simply too cajoling."

Fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I nodded my head with a lenient smile.

"The device? Would you have made one..."

"Of course, of course." Grimsen spin around, much too servile to not be suspicious. But he opened a small chest secretively and my attention poured back to why I was here. I couldn't see what he took from the chest until he put it back in the shelf and turned to look at me.

Grimsen dangled the string of a compass on his fingers, showing it off. I almost reached out to it, but he shouldn't take notice of my desperate eagerness.

Instead, I arched an eyebrow, folding my arms over my chest. "Well?"

"It's not a watch, My Lord. Anyone would expect a watch to take you back in time... or forward. It's a compass. No one would think to steal a compass for time travel, these are for directions," Grimsen grinned, obviously proud of himself. Once again the smith's behavior put me off ease. But there were more pressing matters to focus onto.

"Ingenious. How does it work then?"

"Very simple. You position yourself in the desired direction - north for future, south for past, then you press this button and -" he puffed audibly, suggesting a vanishing person. "Pinch it back and face east to return in the moment of your departure, or west to take your travel from scratches."

I pushed back against the delight threatening to overwhelm me. Anyone else would have inquired more. About the making process, the magic used, if it was tested. A better king perhaps would have question a previous usage of it and the purpose of it. Or ask about the eagerness he told me all I needed to know with. Seconds away from pushing me out the door.

I didn't All I cared about was finding my way back to the breath of my life.

I said my goodbyes to the smith and retired to the palace. At dawn, I sneaked back, having memorized where he keeps the compass, and stole it with ease, leaving its chest on the shelf.

"I keep fighting, Jude, like you showed me to. I will fix this, I promise that much."

My murmurs were too loud in the eerie quietness of the land. I didn't know it so silent before. Thoughts of when to go back to and questions of how to save Jude flood my mind, but were drowned by the peacefulness of day.

At last, I made my mind. Faced the south. Pressed the button. And leaped in nothingness.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

"...Allow me this - grant that I may show you my loyalty in my deeds, rather than binding myself with my words."

From his spot in front of the throne, Grimsen looked up at me, expectedly. I felt a squeeze on my shoulder and I nearly fell from the throne at the sight: Jude. In all her sharp nobility. Not yet the High Queen, but the actual ruler of Elfame.

Her eyes didn't move from the smith when she touched me. I remember I shrugged her hand off the first time this happened. But I couldn't bring myself to do so again. It was a cautionary sign for me, to be as wary of Grimsen as she was. Yet I couldn't shake off the comfort her touch brought. Warm. Strong.

I realized I was staring at my seneschal for too long. Even Jude turned to look at me, having felt the tension in the air rising. Putting on a sweet, dark grin, I removed her hand from my shoulder. Made a show of toying with the rings I had on, lounging in my throne as if I was silly drunk, pretending to ponder over Grimsen request.

Though back when this was all new I cringed at the presence of the smith, I pushed those shivers away, wishing to upset Jude at the time being. This time, with how uncanny he acted before - in the future I hoped wouldn't exist no more - I actually sit on it. There was nothing I could find to reason his behavior. But also nothing to help me understand it. The best would be to keep him close, where I can have an eye on him at all time.

"I accept your condition." I recall saying. "Indeed, I will give you a boon. An old building with a forge sits on the edge of the palace grounds. You shall have it for your own and as much metal as you require. I look forward seeing what you will make for us." The words fell from my mouth like a learned speech. I felt myself easing in the memories of the event, finding my previous actions clearer and clearer by the second. Like my past and my current self became one.

"Your kindness shall not be forgotten," Grimsen said with a deep bow.

As the peculiar smith retreated, I spotted a clocked figure waiting in line. And I remembered what happened next.

I found Mother Marrow not issuing as much mistrust as before. In fact, a soft smile worked on my face as she spoke. I didn't change my past actions, though. Partly to entertain mine and Jude's small banter again, partly because it was what would be expected of me. I shouldn't show familiarity to a presumed stranger.

"The three of us shall see each other again." When she said it this time, she winked at me. As if there was more meaning to her words that what I'd expect.

Jude, the overbearing leader that she was, caught it as well, sending me a questioning frown. I smiled ludicrously at her, a silent comment about Mother Marrow's marriage proposal Jude understood with disgust.

I found it addictive: the way we could communicate so easily, even without words. Perhaps this time around, if I play my cards right, I can make her agree to the wedding for more reason than political upper hand.

My thoughts traveled to Locke. And if either bestowing the desired title upon him had any lingering effects on the dreaded future. The queen of mirth episode playing shamefully on my mind. I had no idea how someone managed to capture Jude. My fierce mortal, out of all people! A spy inside the palace's walls was a reasonable guess. Could it be Locke?

The plan was simpler on the other side of time. Follow Jude around at all times and make sure she isn't captured. We would protect each other. But being back in the position I was in at the beginning of the whole mess, I found that, as mortals say, best laid plans of mice and men oft go astray.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

I have decided to do things exactly as before, as to not draw unwanted attention on myself. I had the benefit of knowing the future in my pocket, surely I can navigate this travel smoothly and only make small, needed changes.

"What's wrong with you?" Jude asked as soon as we retired from the meeting with the people.

"Is that worry I sense, High King?"

Her eyes widened for a split second, searching the hall for compromising ears. "Have you lost your minds?" She hissed. And dragged me by the arm to the King's compartments. "Are you drunk?"

"Do you think that low of me, my sweetest sin?" I clutched my heart, pretending to be hurt. It was silly and I had so much more important things to focus on. But I couldn't - didn't want to - resist the urge to speak to her so freely.

The way Jude blushes and shots daggers with her eyes. I could tease her all day, always delighted by her responses. It could be a sharp comeback, a reprehension, a swift order or a kiss. A bold, energetic kiss pressed on my mouth. That could lead (and has led, I reminded myself) to more.

Jude rolled her eyes. "Snap out of it, Cardan!"

A command. But I did not feel the compulsion to obey, nor the restriction to go against it. "And what will you do if I don't?" I smirked.

She frowned. "I said shut up. Now's not the time for your antics."

"Perhaps you should try make me, trusty seneschal. You can't order your king, but I may allow you to convince me."

Mouth agape, Jude strolled until she was right in front of me, our bodies almost touching. I jumped on the couch, taking up as much space as I could, legs and arms spread over the fine cushion. And rose my brows expectantly at her.

"What's this? How are you doing this?"

"Don't worry, Jude. If you want to control me still, there are ways I'm open to. I can be malleable for you, if you'd be willing to learn how to play with me."

Her chest heaved with irregular breathing. Quicker. Almost like a pant. Her eyes traced my frame up and down, always returning to my face. My eyes, from which she shied away, my ears, my hair, my lips, where she stopped.

Thoughts of ravish and passion begin to drip in my mind. Filling it if not for the arrow slashing at my neck. Startled, I collected myself in a smaller target. Jude's sword was already drawn, looking for enemies.

I groaned mentally. I have completely forgotten about the attack.

"We need to get you out of here. Somewhere secure."

"Lead the way."

If she wouldn't have been so focused on the prospect of danger, Jude would have shot me a killing look. "I can't believe you won't even be serious in the middle of your own assassination attempt," she mumbled under her breath. "Guards!"

Another arrow flew rapidly in my direction. Jude cut it in half before it had the change to taste my blood. "Guards!" Once again, no one answered to the call.

"Come on," Jude gripped the sleeve of my shirt and yanked, pushing me in the direction of the secret passageway entry. She followed tightly behind, still not letting go of me, sword up in case another arrow needs to be cut. As we slip in the tunnels, Jude blocks the door with a chair.

"It won't hold them off for long."

We didn't stop as she talked. Her thumb brushed circles on the blunt little finger over my shirt. A focused look in her eyes. I could see the thoughts spiraling inside.

"You have to hide until I solve this. Stay at the Court of Shadows."

Well this didn't go well with my plan to keep a close eye on her.

"Tsk, tsk, what did I just say about pushing your king around like this, seneschal?"

Jude glared at me. Using the handle of her sword against my neck she pushed me into the nearest wall. "I don't know what happened, how you freed yourself from my command, but if you want to live, you will do as I say. I think it's in both of our benefits."

"Ask."

"What?"

"I will not do as you say, Jude. But nothing stops you trying to ask." I leaned in sweetly, eying her with intensity and a smug smile playing on my lips.

For a lying mortal, Jude wore her heart on her sleeves. Or, at least when she was with me she did. Distress, confusion, anger, stubbornness. She wanted to know why I was free of her compulsion, what that meant for her plans - perhaps even if it would have been better to end me since Balekin was in prison and Oak would be the only option of a king Elfame had. But she didn't have enough time to think.

Jude fought with her pride and the the feeling of a cold, sloppy snake crawling on her she looked like she had every time she felt she lost in front of me.

"Please, your highness," Jude relented through gritted teeth.

"What was that?"

The grip on the handle tighten. So did the strength she pushed it into my neck.

"Please, your highness, let me save you from the attempt at your life."

"Ah, my dear seneschal, I'm touched. I didn't know I mean so much to you."

Even in the darkness of the secret tunnel, I could see her cheeks heating up in embarrassment.

"Walk."

I snickered, but didn't provoke her further. I took the lead, as she rather stayed behind in case we were followed. At last we reached the Court of Shadows. The room didn't change much since the day I woke up all tied to a chair and a beautiful knight hovering over me.

"Lock yourself in after I'm gone. Don't come out until I come for you. And do not open this door for anyone, no matter what." At the rose of my eyebrow, Jude sighed. "Of your majesty so pleases for his own safety."

I broke into a green and let my body fall on a chair, picking my legs up to rest on the table. "And if it doesn't pleases me?"

"Cardan! This isn't a game. Someone tries to kill you!"

"And should I believe you care, my addictive poison? You can cook up a way to put Oak on the throne without me."

Something in her eyes shifted. She turned to face the door before I could catch a real glimpse of it. It is possible I imagined it, but highly unlikely judging by her stiff, tensed body. "Don't be ridiculous. If you shall die before your time has come, it will be by my hand, and my hand only."

And with that, Jude stormed out of the room.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

It was wistful thinking, but the way she reacted made me hope Jude might open her heart for me. For my heart already belonged to her. I stood on bricks and nails the first long hours, until I remined myself she wouldn't be captured until after the queen of mirth incident.

As I had time, I went through all I knew will happen, trying to piece the puzzle together. Revels I was too drunk to fully remember, Vivi's girlfriend somehow being enchanted, the threats from the Undersea to marry Nicassia, a plan to use Oak as bait to which the details have been lost on me.

The wedding! Locke and Taryn's wedding. Jude made me seduce the information out of Nicassia. That's when the Undersea will attack. And... Balekin. I remember a short conversation with my brother. He wanted me to free him. He works with Orlagh. But he couldn't have planned Jude's capture while still in prison. He must be as much of a tool to Orlagh as anyone else.

Think, Cardan, think. Jude is taken after the wedding. Locke is still a viable option as a traitor. All he does is for himself and his own amusement. And he does treasure humiliating Jude, even when it jeopardize her life.

But Locke isn't involved enough in politics to be drawn in Orlagh's schems. He gets bored easily and cannot stand following a plan that doesn't immediately satisfy him. His involvement, if any at all, must have been minimal.

Who else, then, could fool Jude, sneak behind her back and take her down in a fight?

"I have to admit, I'm surprised you're still here and haven't went off searching for wine yet." Jude said from where she was staying in the doorframe, arms crossed and a brow arched. She looked more composed now. As if she finally figured the answer of an afflicting question. If only I could have the same luck.

"You're ever lasting trust in me is heartwarming, as usual, dear nemesis."

Jude resumed to a swift eyeroll instead of gracing me with a verbal answer.

"The assassin – or assassins – escaped. But the Bomb and I searched your room for traps. None. You will be safe there. And more comfortable, I presume."

"Have I managed to melt your walls, Jude Duarte? Thinking of my comfort..."

"Shut up!"

"Sorry. Don't take orders from you anymore." I might be stretching this out, but I enjoyed myself too much. As much as I... couldn't stop thinking about Jude and I wished nothing more than to be fully in her control, the compulsion she had over me wasn't what I had in mind. It bothered me, though I didn't want to admit why. Her lack of trust in me shouldn't pain me so.

"Speaking of: how did you do that?"

"You'll have to work a bit harder for answers as from now on, Jude. I hope you didn't think otherwise. It would be far beneath your level."

"Fine. Don't tell me. I don't need to know, anyway. But you're still a target. I've spoken with Nicassia and the Undersea was behind this. We should expect more."

"So you aren't planning to dethrone me, then? Now that I'm not your puppet anymore?"

Another one of those passing looks clouded her eyes. Almost as if she was hurt by the implication of my words. My heart trembled at the thought of Jude actually caring for me enough to be disturbed by my downfall.

It was gone as soon as I've seen it. "Don't be ridiculous. You are competent enough to navigate the court and its tedious, pesky cabal. When you are sober enough, that is. I cannot have my brother on a dangerous throne."

"Therefore I shall be king until you eliminate all threats?"

"Yes."

"And if I disapprove of this?"

"It's your right, High King Cardan. But you need my protection. My spies."

You, I thought, but didn't voice it. Instead, I bowed my head. "Sounds like you are right, seneschal. Very well, then. I will keep you around. But you will have no more secrets from me. I know you can lie. I'd like to believe that in these past months we earned a bit of each other's trust. Enough so, that you will not keep from me. We are in this scheme, to put the crown on Oak's head, together. Only the two of us."

I could see trains of thoughts speeding behind her eyes. Jude turned my words on all sides, possibly even ones I hadn't consider myself. Finally, she nodded. "Sounds fair. I have spoken to Nicassia. She's the best intel we have, but she won't talk to me much."

She filled me in on her conversation with my traitorous friend while we ascended in my chambers. "The only reason she told me so much is because she is scared for you. She still loves you," Jude finished, not meeting my eyes. Could I have sensed frustration in her voice?

I believe so. Which is why I didn't tease her about it. I kept the knowledge to myself. Maybe if she thinks me less observant when it comes to her, there will be more mishaps in my company. I didn't dare think of a reason for her feelings. I just enjoyed them.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

The days passed normally. Until the night of the Hunter's Moon came.

Breathing in Jude's neck made her suspicious, so I had to give her more space. Time which I spent with the Court of Shadows. I have realized, upon an unplaced joke about the Roach and the Bomb, that I hadn't befriended them in this time.

But as soon as Locke announced the great revel of tonight, I begin sweating. I was determined to not allow Jude to be the queen of mirth. At least not for Master of Revel's and the rest of the folk pleasure. If anyone was to be humiliated tonight, it won't be my warrior queen.

I was more worried about the ambush of the merfolk. I still had not figured out who kidnapped Jude. Nor how. And I was running out of time.

"You don't look particularly happy for this celebration." Jude commented.

"I would say you are in no position to talk. At how many revels have you partaken?"

"It's a waste of time. But you are usually drunk and all over some beautiful faeries by now."

"No, no, my dear Jude. You've gotten it wrong. They are the ones all over me. What can I say, I'm irresistible."

"I don't know which is worse. That you actually believe this or that no one corrected you."

"Don't be like this. I have seen you watching me. When you're positioned at my door, with the guards, and you can only catch a glimpse inside while I change..." I leaned closer to her, locking our eyes in a tight, daring dance she couldn't refuse.

Jude scoffed. But didn't say anything as we made our way into the garden where Locke build a huge throne for me around which revelers already gathered. At my side, Jude rolled her eyes.

"I'd suggest the wine, but you don't have it in you to anything but wide awake at any given time."

She sent me a weird look, as if she wondered if I can't stand the court just as much as herself, using the wine as a carefully crafted persona to escape. Then she shifted her focus on our surroundings. Always the careful.

I allowed Jude to drink from the wine, having swapt it with mortal one courtesy to Vivi. She drank a whole bottle and, though she swayed on her feet, she wasn't drunk enough to joyfully embarass herself in front of the whole court.

"Dance with me," I said. The clear look in her eyes told me she was merely tipsy.

"What... why?"

"As hard as it seems for you to believe I do not wish to see you humiliated. You are my seneschal after all. But we shall give the viewers some sort of spectacle."

It was obvious I had taken her by surprise. For the first time since I knew her, Jude was rendered speechless. I could blame the wine, but I liked taking on the credit myself.

She nodded shortly and it was enough for me to pull her closer and move us inside the circle the folk made around us. Perhaps it lacked the shame they all craved from their mortal leader, but it gave enough space to speculate so their minds were kept busy.

I hadn't notice when the merefolk arrived. It appears Jude and I danced for more than either would have thought. Jude pushed away from me, running to the first line of defence.

When the threat was gone and we rushed to the meetings' room, I couldn't spot her anywhere. My blood froze in my veins, my breath trapped in my throat for minutes until I spotted her slip inside.

"Madoc is against us. I don't think he supports Orlagh, though. He seem to want war. Blood shed." She whispered in my ear, only for me to hear.

For a second intoxicating bliss washed over me. Jude shared with me, unprompted, information about her own father. But then the words fully registered in my brain. "Of course," I seethed. "He hadn't dip that hood of his in blood for a long while. He must suffer greatly."

Jude frowned at my dark tone, but said nothing as the conversation turned to us.

"Is there anything you're not telling us, mortal?"

"Careful," I spoke before Jude could. "She is my seneschal, my prime advisor, and you all better show more respect."

Jude hide her surprise more skillfully than she did her blush. But she spoke up nonetheless. "I am not withdrawing any information from you, my lords and ladies. I was simply waiting for a confirmation my suspicions are true. Tonight's events was proof enough. Balekin is corresponding with the merefolk."

I pretended to be surprised and even joining in the claims of such news' improbability. I hadn't listen to Jude's explanation. I knew it to be true already. As true as Locke's involvement. I wondered if that was the extention of it or if I should start spying on my friend.

Last time, I have spoken to Nicassia, sending a message that would make the queen of the Undersea see red from the depth of her blueish kingdom. This time I decided to not anger her more than needed.

I followed into my steps as I remembered them, requesting more from my Master of Revels to keep him busy for any eventuality.

Just as I expected, a note from Balekin came during one of the parties. I called for Jude and led her to the secret room behind the throne.

"What is this?"

"I called for no secrets between us and I'm keeping up to my wish," I said, handing her the missive.

"We need more information."

"Another talk with Nicassia?"

"It can't be me. And we can't exactly extract it from her. She's no enemy. Yet."

"You thought of something. I can see it. Well, go on, don't keep to yourself."

"Maybe you should talk to her," Jude mumbled in a small voice. "Use your, uhm, charm. And the feelings she still has for you."

I knew it will come. She asked it of me before, except she doesn't know it. And as much as it pained me to hear her so carelessly talk off my affection as a currency for intel, this time I heard a pang of discomfort that brightened my mood.

"You think I'm charming?" Last time I rehearsed my seducing abilities on her. I may have come to change the past, but I had to be careful with the consequences of those changes. What would be different if I just leave now, no special moment between Jude and I?

Probably nothing, since it is private. But I am not willing to take risks.

"Nicassia thinks you're charming." Jude countered, but the color in her cheeks disputed it.

"Mhm," I hummed, closing the gapt between us. One of my hands brushed some hair behind her hear, resting on her neck afterwards. The other traced the outline of her lips.

"And I'm sure you cannot even begin to understand why."

Jude swallowed. A thick, loud in the silence of the room, bob of her throat. "No."

"Tsk, tsk, you promised not to lie to me, Jude. Or did you think I only meant business? Let me clarify it."

I brushed my lips over her chin. "I," another ghostly touch to her cheek. "Do not," I whispered hovering my lips near her ear. "Want you," I brought my face at hers level again, talking against her own lips. "To lie to me." I ended with a kiss. "Ever."

Jude surprised me with the vigour with which she kissed back. As if she waited a long time for this. Her hands circled my neck when she pulled for air, not giving me time to even smirk as she attached her lips to mine again.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

When I woke up, Jude was gone. We hand't move forward than making out with our tops off. I was reminded of her words from the original time line. How she only did it to 'get it out of the system'. And she asumed the same waa true for me.

My teeth bit the inside of my lips as I pulled the flannel shirt from yesterday back on and went to find Nicassia. It felt so wrong, moving from Jude's arms to the woman whose mother would have my kingdom leveled under crushing waves and who, herself, cheated on me with whom I thought to be my best friend.

But we a war was knocking on my door. One I wasn't going to lose Jude to again.

I considered wasting time around with the Court of Shadows. I already knew everything Nicassia was going to tell me. But now I had a set of new questions to ask. Perhaps she knew her mother's plan for Jude, a piece of the puzzle I dumbly hadn't consider until it was too late the first time.

"Cassi," I raised my voice for her to hear me over the loud chattering of hangover faes. "Do you have some time to spare?"

"Of course, yes!"

"Some place more private, perhaps?"

Her eyes widened, hope glimmering in her blue orbs. "Take me wherever you want, my king. I'm all yours."

It was hard to feel bad for her, knowing the thoughts she harbors for Jude and the torture she agrees to submit her. But the pang I felt wasn't as much for decieving her, as it was for years of letting her fool me.

"I missed this," I said sincerly. Because even if it was never real and she entertained Locke's fantasies, I did miss the comforting lie they both served me for so long.

"I missed this too." I wondered what she was thinking of to be able to speak these words. Jude may believe she still loved me, but the truth was, she never did.

Forcing a smile to spread my lips, I closed the gap between us, leading her by the waist to an empty room.

When we sat on the couch, Nicassia was slightly climbed in my lap. My fingers caressing all over her covered skin. Her own played with the hair at the back of my neck as she laid her head on my shoulder.

I couldn't stop the image that replaced Nicassia with Jude in my mind. Brown curles instead of blue, warm eyes, not cold. Tensed muscles beginning to relax opposed to the soft skin of the merefolk princess.

Nicassia's free hand came to rest on my chest. "What prompted this change of attitude?"

"I was in dire need of an old friend."

"Mmmm, is that so? What kind of need?"

"Anything you wish to offer. Company, comfort, talk, or more."

"Being High King weights heavy on you."

It wasn't a question, but I answered it anyway, seeing the opportunity I've been waiting. "Yes. I imagine you have an understanding of that too. As the sole heir, you must have been given more responsability Undersea all these years."

Nicassia looked up at me with pitty in her eyes. I was starting to think she never saw me as an equal. But a lost pet she and Locke could take care of. A broken, unworthy fae. Unlike most people in my life, she was attracted by it, in some twisted sense of care.

"I have always enjoyed my mother's trust, yes. She tells me everything concerning our kingdom and its ruling."

"She seeks your aid."

"My advice only. Mother values my input, yes, but she's just teaching me for now. Preparing for the time I will be queen."

"You knew about her marriage wishes, then." It was my turn to phrase a question as an answer I already knew.

Nicassia nodded, letting her eyes fell on her lap.

"And you agree?"

Her eyes snaped back at mine. "What do you want me to say, Cardan? I love you, I have never stopped loving you. But you pushed me away, favoring that mortal..."

"Nicassia," I warned. I wouldn't hear Jude's name being misspoken for. The only person who sees me as something else than the missplaced prince in the noble family. "You speak of me favoring Jude, when I found you and Locke behind my back."

"It's not the same. I don't love Locke."

"Then why?" Was all I could say. My head spinned. Was it that obvious Jude has stolen my heart? And if it was, why did Nicassia accept my advances. Could this be a new plan? And why did she had to be with Locke if she never felt for him? For the sake of betraying me? They both loved to have power and to parade it around hurting those lesser than. Nothing different that what I engaged into, except I never had the power. I wanted to trick myself into believing I did.

"It's... complicated."

I shifted. And she suddenly found herself on the couch. I stood up and poured some of the wine I found on the table down my throat. Half meaning it, half playing on that pity Nicassia harbored for me, perhaps even mistaking it for love.

"Cardan, Locke meant, means nothing to me. It was a stupid request my mother had of me. She wanted Locke to help her."

"Both of my friends, ploting behind my back."

"It's not like that. He didn't knew anything. I told him what to do, promising he'll have some fun and weave a good story. Mother promised she won't hurt anyone. It was just a show of power."

"Is baiting my brother to aupport her with gifts and promises of a throne just a show of power too?"

"Balekin is just a pawn. You are the king she wants. The king we both want. But you wouldn't play your part. You listen to that mortal girls as if she controls you."

At that, Nicassia's pleading eyes found mine, a mute question behind them. I ignored it. "Is this why Orlagh wants to eliminate Jude?"

"Eliminate is such a strong word, Cardan," the merefolk princess rolled her eyes. "We won't kill her. Mother only wishes to talk to her, convince her to cooperate. It's not such a dark plan: you and I married, rulling over our joint kingdoms. Peace and prosperity, think about it."

"How does Orlagh plans to talk to Jude?"

Nicassia groaned and let herself ease more into the soft cushion. "We have a spy she trusted. He'll bring her to us."

A spy Jude trusts. A he. A truly narrowed list, as the decieving mistress of my heart barely trust anyone. Madoc has been recently crossed off the list. Replaced by me, I like to think. The only ones left are the Roach and the Ghost.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

As Taryn and Locke's wedding was but a few hours due, I grew more ane more resteless. I haven't talk to Jude since I told her Orlagh's plan to act on the wedding's day. I told her to be careful of the spy too, but she still insisted on leaving the palace to spend time with her twin.

"Your worry is appreciated, Cardan, in all its disturbing unexpectance. But I can handle myself."

Of course I couldn't tell her about the attack on her. And she did make it out alive the first time. But nothing could sooth my fears. Nothing but seeing her at all times. Judging with my own to eyes if she is fine.

"Take me with." I pleaded. And I've lost the count of how many times I did so far.

"Stop that! Madoc doesn't know my loyalties lie to you –" my heart fluttered and skipped a bit –" and I want a night spent only with my sister."

"I won't be in your way. I can even wait outside. Playing watch guard from a tree."

Jude pinched the bridge of her nose. This time I hadn't tried to talk to her about what happened in the secret room behind the throne. Which is why she acted normally around me, openly, even.

"Even if I would agree to this, you cannot be seen on Madoc's estate. He isn't yet sworn you enemy, but that is where his heart is. It's too dangerous. Besides, with merefolks haunting about, the vest place you could be at is the palace, with the Bomb as your babysitter."

I made a face at the title. And then relented. "Fine. Just promise me you'll be careful."

"I will," Jude groaned annoyed. Though a little smile pulled at her lips. She was gone withing seconds.

I've waited until I estimated there is enough distance between us so Jude wouldn't spot me and the Bomb will she look back, then turned to my keeper.

"I have to follow her. You can stay here, or come with, but do not stop me."

The Bomb bursted into a jingle of laughes. "You have so lost yourself to her. Calm down, loverboy, Jude can handle herself."

"Listen, she is in danger. And that moment is closing in. And I know she can hold her ground, but I cannot lose her again. I need to make sure she's fine."

"Again? What are you talking about."

I ended up telling the Bomb everything. "And are you sure one of them is a traitor."

I nodded solemnly. I wanted to comfort her, but didn't know how.

"Go." The Bomb said all of a sudden, breaking the silence that has fallen over us. "I will try to find if it's the Ghost or the Roach," her voice broke a bit over the name of the man she loves.

I took the fastest horse in our stables and sped on Jude's trail.

When I caught up to her, she was surrounded by masked faes. Limping. I couldn't determine where they injured her, or how bad it was. But Jude stood her ground fearlessly.

An arrow flied from up somewhere. There must be more of them, hidden in the trees. Or just one, the thought fell in place like the the lackadaisical feeling of being painfully conscious of my own conscious after a night of revels and drinks.

I barely processed it when I already climbed the nearest tree. Precise archer, a sly, silent spy, perhaps the most so out of all of us, a friend. The quietest one.

The Ghost taught Jude the most about the art of spying. How to smoothly move in space as if she was the particles in between. He taught me too. How listening and connecting the dots can have more values than intercepting correspondence, if one place themself in the right spot, at the right time.

I didn't care to think about why the Ghost would work for Orlagh. Or even question my deduction. It has to be him. Once I got high enough between the tree's thick crown, I jumped swiftly to the nearest tree. The more trees I left behind, the more aware was I of the fact I had no weapon on me. And the Ghost knew how to fight, bare handed or not.

My best shot was to take him by surprise. He doesn't know I'm here, he doesn't know his cover has been torn to pieces. And he is focused on Jude. If I can sneak behind his back, I can...

"You were the least I expected to see here, today," the Ghost rasped in my ear. An arrow tip pressed cold against the back of my neck.

"All the more a pleasure for you. Surprise!"

"You shouldn't have come."

"Believe it or not, I keep hearing this since my birth. It never stopped me."

With him distracted in a conversation, Jude's odds bettered. She could deal with the faes on the ground much easier if the threat of arrows from above was stopped. My life depended on how much information Orlagh shared with her spies and on the Ghost's social awareness. If he thought he can kill me because he didn't know of the Undersea's plans to marry me to their princess or not.

"I'm sorry, Cardan. I have no choice."

I frowned. The folk can't lie. But if he believes it true, then it's a loophole. Why would the Ghost think this is his only option? Why would he betray Jude if he's feeling guilty about it?

Darkness overtook my mind before I could even begin to analyze it. Next thing I know when I'm awaken is a terrible ache in my temples and a familiar scent in my nostrils. I shifted, trying to get up and a displeased groan filled the air. Not my own, though.

"You chose the worst time to wake up," Jude mumbled, pushing a hand on my chest to keep me down and fitting her head again on my shoulder.

Heat rose to my cheeks and I was grateful she kept her eyes closed. "What happened?"

"The Ghost is the traitor Nicassia told you about. Tried to kill me with some friends. They're dead now. I don't think the Ghsot was actually here yesterday. There was an archer, but the arrows stopped coming in pretty soon."

"He was. He must have knocked me out after I found him."

My voice seemed to wake Jude up for good because she almost jumped to her feet, an accusatory look in her eyes. "What were you thinking? You could have gotten yourself killed. Or worse!"

"Worse? I'm flattered you hold me so dear in your caring."

"I'm serious, Cardan. You could have been captured, tortured, trapped in a deal like we had. Can you see how bad this would have been for the Land?"

"They weren't here for me, they were here to get you."

"Plans can change."

"Not even Orlagh is daring enough to kidnap the High King of Elfhame. You were the only one in danger."

"And you decided to come to my rescue alone?"

"The Bomb was trying to figure out who the traitor is. I had no one else I could trust to help me. And I did a pretty good job, didn't I? Once you had no arrows to worry about, you took them down without breaking a sweat."

"That's not so true," Jude rolled her eyes. She unfurled her pants. The leaked blood missed my notice because of the clothing's dark material. But Jude's pristine skin was smudged with blood. Different shades forming a pool around an ugly wound in her leg.

So many questions I wanted to ask at once. She seemed to read the all in my face.

"My horse died. Yours fled. I couldn't walk and even if I did, I couldn't carry you too. Leaving you was not even an option," she said before I had the chance to suggest it. "So I tied it up the best I could and tried to keep watch. I must have lost too much blood and fell asleep."

"You need stiches," was all I could foolishly say.

I couldn't convince Jude to let me carry her, but she did agree to lean on me for support all the way to Madoc's estate. Only if I make myself scarce without sight range. "I can walk by my own a few feet, but Madoc cannot see you."

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Making my way back to the palace, I had time to ponder over the obvious changes that occurred and what they meant. Jude was originally taken from the Tower during the wedding. The Ghost must have lured her there, alone in an ambush since all the guards were posted at the wedding.

It has been a diversion. Making us think they'll do something during the ceremonial party and instead freeing Balekin and taking Jude from the Tower. Would they change their plans now we discovered their spy? Very unlikely. Most certainly they will switch tactics and corner Jude elsewhere, or in a different way. Which means I had to be with her all night.

The Undersea won't risk a second ascend. Not until they think they can fight the Land and win. Orlagh was running out of subtilties and court's plays seeing how much we knew already. And she knew we know.

The queen of Undersea will give up Jude for a bigger prize: the crown of Elfhame. To take it, she must resort to sheer force, as she intended anyway. Until I made the deal with her in exchange for Jude.

My head hurt. Possibly from the hit earlier, but the confusing politic games weren't helping either. I had to protect Jude from Orlagh and the kingdom from war and it seemed impossible to manage both.

Think, Cardan. Jude would kill you if you trade Elfhame for her.

Perhaps if I... Yes, could work. But it was a heavy risk. I might have to fill Jude and the Roach in my little time journey. And...

"My king! A word?" Jude shouted, running with a wincing limp down the hall towards me. I hurried to meet her.

"Alone." She added once we were face to face.

I nodded and we made our way to the secret room behind the throne again. We could hear the last minute preparations for Locke and Taryn's wedding even from here.

"What is it, wise seneschal?"

"Remember what I told you this morning? About," she didn't allow me space to comment on her question, "our enemies attempting to control you?"

"It wouldn't leave my mind," Jude continued, after I hummed my positive answer. "You cannot permit to be tricked, Cardan. We... the Land, Elfhame, cannot afford it."

"I think you made a convincing point in the woods earlier. I am aware of the gratitude of our situation, you don't need to spell it out for me, Jude."

"I know. I surely do hope so, at least. But it won't leave me rest. They have Balekin on their side, does he know your true name? Or," she carried on without a pause for air, "if I gained control over you, it's not so preposterous to fear the possibility of the merefolk succeeding too."

A dark shadow passed over my face. Balekin shouldn't know my name. The only onnes who do – or did – were my parents. One of which was imprisoned with Balekin in this time. Would my mother betray me so? Sweat ran down my spine, cold as the disdain in Lady Asha's scorn lips in every memory I have of her from childhood.

As for Orlagh or one of her people geting a hold over my being, as disturbing and unsettling of a thought it was, I had to entertain it. Take it in consideration.

"Were you getting anywhere with this share of fears, or are you acting on our no secrets deal?"

"There can be only one person controling you. If it gets down to it, you'll have to pretend, but you'll be shielded if someone you trust..."

"You, you mean," I interruped her. "You want me to surrender myself to you again. Willingly, this time."

"I – yes. I do. It's for all of us' sake."

"Don't need to convince me. I will do it. With one – well, two, actually – conditions."

As Jude readied herself for my bargain, I closed in the space between us. "First, I may find myself at your qualms, but you have to keep your promise. Be truthful with me, seek my input, involve me in your plans."

"Fair enough. Very well. It wasn't that bad to scheem with you. And the second?"

"We haven't spoken of our night together..." I trailed off, smirking at the color in her cheeks.

"I don't see where are you going with this. It was just..."

"Don't say we just had to get it out of our systems. You know it's a lie, Jude. It meant more than that for me. And I think it did for you to, am I wrong?"

She caught my eyes and locked our gazes. Conflicted, her thumb brushed rapidely over her blunt finger. In this moment she wore her heart on sleeve. Try hard enough and I could ses it beating hacticly.

"And if it did...?"

"Then let me worship you as you deserve, my queen."

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oreosmama · 4 years

Text

The Luna Hunt (Alpha Bakugou x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: You don’t need a mate right now; you’ve got more important things, like revenge, on your mind. But the Alpha King needs a mate to take his throne, and now he’s come to town to take you.

A/N: okay, tell me if I’m wrong but like y’all have read this plot eighty bajillion times on Wattpad before, right? Ehh, I literally thought of it in the shower and it might be some sort of stealing from some unknown author I read back when I was a young, young Oreosmama, but I’m still gonna post it for now bc I like it. I channeled my inner Wattpad writer for this too so I hope you enjoy!

Word count: 4244

Someone should have told the Alpha King that lining up one thousand-something girls shoulder to shoulder in ninety degree weather was a mistake waiting to happen.

“Achoo!”

Your sneeze caught the attention--and glares--of the six or so girls lined up on either side of you, each with their own individual reactions. The girl directly to your left, for instance, smiled pityingly and passed you a kleenex from a package sitting in her purse just beside her feet.

“I get allergies too,” she shrugged, “always good to keep some handy, don’t you think?” Mustering the most sincere grin you could, you nodded in thanks and accepted the tissue.

Sweat dripped down your temple and slid down far enough to disappear under the color of your windbreaker, a piece of clothing that had made you the outcast of the day evidently.

You didn’t care. You wore it for a reason.

As more pollen tickled your nose, you leaned forward just a bit to see how far away the man traveling down the line was. Good, you thought, I still have enough time.

Though he was just a tiny speck from your place somewhere in the middle-end range of the line, you could feel the tension he was inflicting on his audience.

The Alpha King. Like all his fathers before him, he was traveling from town to town in search of his predestined mate so he could finally take his place on the throne. He was the ripe age of twenty and, according to all the times you had seen him on the news, he was quite the looker.

Though technically illegitimate because his father and mother had produced him before marriage, the Alpha King of this century was especially distinctive for an entirely different reason--he was hot.

With blond hair that always seemed to be ruffled and crimson irises that could singe off your eyebrows, Katsuki Bakugou was a young king known to all. Even grandmothers, though they disapproved of his less-than mannerly attitude, still swooned at his natural beauty.

Every time you saw him on TV when you were younger, he would always have that permanent scowl etched on his face. And, like most other girls at the time, you wished you could have been the one to turn it upside down.

Then you grew up and realized he didn’t really matter. At least not to you.

He was just another alpha, albeit the one of the largest pack in the world. Unlike most packs, the Bakugous’ numbers reached into the hundred millions and had towns scattered all over the nation. They were known to be untouchable, and it was an honor to be a part of them.

“God, could this go any slower?” Your eyebrows rose in surprise at the groan of the girl next to you. Though she seemed even less interested in the event happening around her with gum smacking and eyes rolling, it seemed her family had at least convinced--or maybe forced--her into a dress that made her blend well with the other girls.

Well, at least you weren’t entirely alone in your dreading of this process.

The process itself wasn’t particularly a rager but it was a sacred tradition that the Bakugou pack insisted on continuing. This was how the Luna Queen was found, wherever she was.

You just wished she’d show up soon so you could get this show on the road.

Bakugou Katsuki, however, seemed to be taking his sweet time sniffing down the line of women in the open field of your hometown. Parents and other not-of-age people were forced to stay in their homes so as to not interfere with this careful procedure, and that was the one thing you were thankful for--the one thing you were looking forward to.

Now, you just had to wait for the bodyguard of your particular clump of women to step away so the king could smell each of you individually. Mates’ scents are supposed to stand out in crowds of millions, but after one particular sick incident so many centuries ago where a certain Alpha King ended up with a stuffy nose, they decided to leave the kings unescorted as they walked along the line.

And so here you were, waiting ever so patiently for Mr. Rhinoceros-neck to step back and away to join the rest of his fellow betas as they guarded the king from a calculated distance of seventy feet.

But, of course, Bakugou Katsuki was taking his sweet time.

Part of you almost pitied the girls beside you, obviously making the mistake of not wearing sunscreen. You memorized the day's exact weather report and were determined to not let even a sunburn stop you from your mission.

Though, maybe a reapplication wouldn’t hurt since you seemed to be sweating off your first layer of SPF 60. Perhaps the windbreaker you zipped over a thick black sweatshirt was a bit of overkill but it was all part of your plot.

Heat strokes be damned--you were not screwing up today.

Twenty minutes crawled by at a snail’s pace and in that time, the scent of deodorant and perfume reached its crescendo. Girls in skin-tight, above-the-knee dresses reapplied just a touch of antiperspirant with ease as the Alpha King made his way closer and closer to your gaggle of a hundred or so women. The other girls who had gone with more modest skirts and dressy blouses, however, had a bit more trouble tackling the B.O. issue.

The sun reached its peak in the sky and you checked your phone to make sure you hadn’t counted wrong.

Nope, no mistakes here. Four hours you’d been standing in that line with Miss Smacks-her-gum on your right and Lady Kleenex on your left. Smacks-her-gum had made the mistake of not wearing sweatproof mascara but you weren’t going to tell her that anytime soon. Trapped in a black leather jacket over a poofy black skirt that tickled your own legs beneath their leggings, she looked about two seconds from blowing her top or passing out--you hoped you weren’t going to be around to see either.

“Ooh, he’s getting closer,” Kleenex squeaked out, twirling a strand of red hair around her finger out of habit. “Damn, he’s so cute.” She glanced back at you with a nervous smile. “I really do wish I was his mate but, God, what are the odds, right?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out with a friendly smile, waiting until she returned her attention to the direction of the Alpha King, for she would be the first one he sniffed of your little trio, before dropping the smile entirely, “what are the odds.”

Now!

Rhinoceros-neck glanced up and down your row one more time from thirty feet away to make sure no one had left before leaving his post, a sure sign that the group of bodyguard betas wasn’t too far behind.

If even one of them saw you, the plan would be ruined. You had to make this quick.

Unzipping your windbreaker, you shrugged it off your shoulders and pulled it free of you entirely, feeling for the binder clips in the front pocket as you did so. Then you zipped it back up and shoved a scrunched wrist under each clip.

“What are you doing?” The girl in the leather jacket seemed less pissed off than you expected, that was until you tried to attach the binder clip to her jacket-shoulder.

“Don’t mind me, I just can’t stick around long,” you mumbled, too busy to expand on just how dumb your plan was with attaching the other clip to Kleenex girl’s shoulder cutouts of her blouse.

Yes, perhaps it was all based on the slim-to-none chance you had of lucking out so stupidly that an entire group of betas and an Alpha King literally overlooked your existence, but it was your only chance of escaping scot free. All you needed was for it to look like a person was there.

You’d done your research, and you’d done it well. You knew Bakugou Katsuki was a pissy man, but you also knew he never made eye contact with women while he went down his lines. Part of it was out of respect as due the tradition’s requirements, but part of it was to make the entire process faster. Women were beautiful all over, but finding your true mate depended on all of your senses, not just one.

If his peripheral vision was as useless as you hoped, you could make a clear getaway and go on your true mission. As fun as it was to participate in the Alpha King’s police lineup of one-thousand women for four hours, you had other things to do with your life.

Like finding that deadbeat father of yours.

You stepped back and inspected your windbreaker, fluffing it out here and there while the two girls it was attached to tried to crane their necks back far enough to ask you what the hell was happening.

You didn’t respond to their questions, instead kicking off the flats you’d allowed your mom to shove on your feet and placing them in the exact place they’d been for the last two hours, easily found due to the matted down grass. Attached to the backpack you’d brought that sat behind you like all other girls had done with their purses and such were a pair of combat boots, the laces strung around the straps of the black bag.

All dark colors, all practically invisible in the forest you planned on escaping through.

Past your group of one hundred girls was another group of the same number before all the women of the town finally ran out and the edge of the farm’s field met a forest. The owner of the wheat field that had been so viciously attacking your nose for the better part of your morning had been paid handsomely for his participation in this town and century’s search of the Luna Queen, just as his ancestors had been.

The forest was thick and ran for miles far and wide, while on the complete other side of the field sat the rest of the town waiting for the Alpha King’s verdict.

Queen or no Queen? they all wondered.

Shit, did I grab that extra protein bar? you wondered.

The grass was wonderfully cool on your sock-covered feet as you untied your boots, glancing up once or twice and going on your tiptoes to see how fast the Alpha King was moving at this point. Surely he was growing tired of this just as you wished he’d take even more time.

A blond head bobbed past fifty or so girls down, proving yourself correct. He was going faster.

“Shit,” you hissed, kneeling down to lace up the boots, only to catch a faceful of dirt courtesy of Leather Girl’s gothic boots.

“What the hell are you doing down there?” she spat, Kleenex girl nodding with the same curiosity.

“I’m gonna go for a stroll.” You returned your gaze to the boots, lacing the last one up faster before a blond or a boot could stop you.

“What about the king?”

“What about him?” You rose to your feet and swung the backpack’s straps over your shoulders, tightening them for a mad dash you prayed wouldn’t have to happen.

“Why are you just up and leaving now? You could be caught and get in serious trouble,” Kleenex piped up innocently. Her eyes were glimmering with concern, an emotion you knew was much undeserved for someone like yourself about to do something so stupid.

“No I won’t,” you shook your head and gestured to the jacket clipped between the two girls. You adjusted the clips so the windbreaker didn’t slump as much, but it was almost an impossible task due to the eight-inch difference between the two of them. “If you guys keep that up, we’ll all survive this. Just play it cool.”

Both pairs of eyes on you bulged as you traveled toward the woods instead of the town where they thought you were leaving to. The girl in the leather jacket caught your hand in the nick of time, tugging you back hard enough that you were face to face with both girls. The movement behind their backs distracted other girls in line whose attention you really didn’t need at this point so you yanked your hand away with a glare.

A flare of guilt lit up your stomach at the worry in both girls’ gazes, but you couldn’t stop the question escaping your lips. “What do you want?”

“What if they catch you?”

“They won’t.”

Leather Jacket gave you a deadpan look. “What if they notice you’re gone?”

“I’ll be gone by then, hopefully,” you stared down at the hand still reaching for your wrist for emphasis.

“Well, what about your family?”

The question made you tense and your eyes flashed. “They’ll be fine,” you gritted out. You were doing this for them after all, and all of it was explained in the neatly folded letter still in the pocket of your windbreaker.

They would understand. They’d have to.

“Fine then,” Leather Jacket shrugged, forcing a strand of black hair back behind her ear. “Just be safe.”

Finally, something you wanted--yet didn’t exactly expect, especially from her--to hear.

Kleenex nodded in agreement and you smiled.

“Thanks.”

And then you left, crouching down and slipping behind the backs of a hundred girls you’d gone to school with for twelve years.

~~~

Katsuki kept his jaw clenched and his eyes locked on the grass below his shoes as he made his way down the third line that week. Hundredth line that month, with many more to come.

Kirishima and Kaminari snickered in the group behind him as he tripped on a sudden hole in the dirt, causing him to cuss and throw a glare back at them. “Zip it, you two.”

Both men straightened up and saluted him with pursed lips. “Yes sir.”

And then they broke off into laughter once more.

Katsuki’s lip curled back and he refrained from growling, knowing that he could scare any of the girls to his left and then he’d get an earful from his parents.

Hands shoved into his pockets, he strutted past each and every girl without even catching a whiff of something he even minded at that point. Instead, it was all the same. Flowery scents here and tropically scents there made his mind reel with a full-fledged headache. This town was bigger than the ones he was used to visiting, but a town was more preferable than a city any day--the populations were always too high for him to ever escape a scenting line in a short six hours.

Plus, quaint towns like this had his most favored landscape: small shops and cottages behind him with a wide forest surrounding, too thick to even see the sunrise and yet so clear that you could count the stars.

Not that he’d ever tell anyone he liked that.

Although, deep down he thought that if he ever did find his mate, a town like this was where he’d like to settle down after running the pack for long enough. Letting his wolf free in miles and miles of forest was a dream, and reminded him of his pack’s headquarters thousands of miles away from here.

At least I can see the end of the line now, he thought, reaching up a single hand to massage the back of his neck.

He estimated he’d be done in this town in another ten minutes. Then maybe he could convince his father’s Beta to let him roam through the forest for even just an hour before moving on.

Just a little faster now.

Of all the parts of scenting lines, his favorite part was definitely finishing them.

So close… so close.

Now, he could see the last girl--and the anxious smile on her face. Dear God, that poor thing thought she was the one. She definitely wasn’t the first, and he had to thank that no girl had jumped like the ones in the previous towns had.

All towns and cities had their weirdos, but Katsuki was especially pleased to find out that this town was astoundingly normal.

Well, maybe except for that one girl that was very obviously trying to make a break for it to the forest.

Well that’s a new one. Maybe he-

Mate.

The sweet scent of sugared pine and apple trees wafted into his nose, mixing with a slight pinch of spiced cinnamon. His eyes almost rolled back into his head and yet he couldn’t take them off the form sprinting behind the other girls.

Gasps filled his ears as Katsuki’s body stood at attention. But if that girl was his mate then how could he smell her…?

One look to his left and he saw a single maroon windbreaker, attached via what looked like binder clips to the clothing of the two women on either side of an empty space. Even a pair of shoes sat on the floor where his mate had stood, and wind forced the jacket to flutter in midair.

She ran away.

Something in Katsuki’s chest sank as he growled in frustration, ripping the windbreaker away from between the two girls and ignoring how they flinched before he pressed it to his nose, inhaling as much of the scent as he could.

Intoxicating.

He could feel his mind sharpen as he stepped away from the group of girls, turning his head once more to search for his mate.

A black form disappeared behind a collection of trees hundreds of feet away but he heard the crack of her stepping on a twig as clear as day.

“Kirishima,” he barked and the redhead appeared at his side. “Take these two into custody. They might know something.”

“Bakugou, did you find her?”

He kept his gaze locked on the trees.

“Yes, but take the other men with you. I want to find her alone.”

“But what if-”

“No,” he spat, blazing eyes almost setting Kirishima aflame, “I’m doing it alone. If even one of you gets near her or gets in my way, he’s not making it out of the forest alive.”

Kirishima nodded in understanding and whistled to the others, grabbing both girls as they whimpered in fear while waiting for better restraints.

Katsuki still kept his eyes locked on the forest edge, just where his mate had disappeared. It was only then that he noticed his hands were wringing the jacket of life, twisting it until it appeared to be tight as a spring waiting to uncoil.

Pressing his lips firm against one another, he unraveled the jacket, searching for something, anything that might give him a clue as to who you were and why you did what you did.

At last, he found a letter in the front right pocket, addressed to your own mother.

Dear Mom,

I’m going after him. I can’t let what he did to you slide, even if you say it was for the best.

With love,

YN. At least now he had a name.

And it was perfect.

YN, your mate was going to find you whether you wanted him to or not.

And he wasn’t going to let you go.

~~~

There was no way you had escaped as smoothly as you thought you did. Even though you felt like every breath you took sounded like a trumpet announcing your location, you never stopped running, staying crouched beneath the groups of women who didn’t even bother to turn back and watch the show.

It wasn’t too graceful either. Your thighs were on fire due to, you know, you having never done this before. After a solid two minutes, you felt your calves spasm and you almost gave up there, but the forest’s edge was so close… so close.

When the floor finally transitioned from grass to grass mixed with soil and animal feces, you almost jumped for joy, sprinting so hard that your legs almost gave out when you passed a hefty group of trees that you felt wide enough to hide you.

Your ears perked at a series of gasps that rang in the clearing behind you and it was then that you knew your escape was far from over.

Maybe there actually was a law against escaping the Searching for Luna Queens ceremony--you’d googled it thoroughly just to make sure you weren’t officially a criminal on the run until after you located your father. But hey, maybe Google had lied to you.

Then you were screwed.

Your mother and stepfather, you could deal with.

The entirety of the Alpha King’s pack… hmm, not so much.

So you kept running, wincing every once in a while that you stepped over a cracked twig. Sweat stuck your hair to your skin and slickened your legs entirely, the midday heat combined with a run through the humid forest finally catching up to you.

A small rest wouldn’t hurt. Maybe twenty minutes had passed, thirty if you were really lucky. You settled for a small stump in somewhat of a clearing. Here, at least, the branches of the trees were only swinging so low that they just brushed the top of your head, as opposed to when they thwapped you in the face while you ran.

Zipping open your backpack, you grabbed the first water bottle you saw, not even bothering to search for the cap after you tore it off and tossed it away before gulping down three-quarters of the bottle.

Your heart finally seemed to slow as you took in gasps of air, batting away and choking on the occasional gnat. Your hair felt greasy and sweaty while the rest of your body was just entirely moist--you’d never been so disgusting before.

But you’d also never run away from a group of thirteen grown men before so you chalked it up to it being amateur hour.

From your seat on the stump, you honed in on your surroundings, trying to figure out which direction to go from there.

Birds chirped to your left (possibly South), but you heard the small babblings of a creek to your right (also possibly South). There was nothing coming from in front of you but flies buzzing and the occasional deer scraping its antlers against a tree, and meanwhile behind you there was a-

SHIT!

You jumped out of your seat on the stump but it was already too late. Just as you lunged ten feet out a weight tackled you from behind and forced you onto the ground, their heavier weight and superior strength keeping you immobile.

Shoulda known it was illegal.

But only then after your heart stopped trying to rip itself away from your body did you feel it. Sparks. Little zaps of pure pleasure tracing up and down your spine and forcing an involuntary shiver out of you.

And the smell, oh God the smell. Like your favorite fruits sprinkled with just a touch of vanilla that had you biting back a moan.

Mate.

Parts of you were happy and others were sad. Happy you found your mate, but sad he had almost just tackled you and forced your face into a pile of bear dung.

This was not a great first meeting.

“Are you gonna get off me anytime soon?” you wheezed out, spitting out spare bits of dirt that had flown into your mouth mid-tackle.

Thank God you packed a toothbrush.

“Only if you promise not to run.” Jesus fuck this man needed to chill with his voice. It washed over you and warmed up the pit of your stomach like no other, every husk and lilt of his words making you almost quiver in delight.

“Yep,” you coughed out, voice surprisingly steady for someone being suffocated mentally and physically, “pretty sure I’ve learned my lesson. You’re good.”

After a slow, somewhat trembling exhale, the man finally got off you and rose to his feet, instead choosing to drop into a squat beside your head with both arms relaxing on his knees.

Very strong, muscular looking arms on very strong, muscular looking knees. And things. And chest. And everything.

Dear God, maybe you actually hit the jackpot for once.

A large hand reached towards your face, not particularly gentle as he brushed the hair from your face, though you could tell he was trying by his hesitancy. His hand paused right as it reached your hair and after a deep breath, he pushed it back up behind your ear and you could see the rest of him at last.

Oh holy shit.

“Ba-akugou Katsuki.”

“YN.”

The Alpha King was your mate.

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