#friends and peers without blowing up like a demon just because they made their own decisions lmfao

[tariah23]

Outside of all of… that happening to Gojo, and finishing Snowfall the other day, eek……..

[stariwrites]

Please

Pairing: Sukuna x GN! Reader (The reader is AFAB)

Warnings: Dubious Consent, Oral (Reader! Receiving), Mind break, edging, denied orgasm, monsterfucking, corruption kink, dirty talk, mean dom to soft dom Sukuna, use of little one and little sorcerer as well as pet (only twice though), forced submission just to be safe 

A/N: I had so much fun writing this and this is for @seita “Corrupt a Virgin Collab!” Thank you so much for letting me participate! All characters are 18+  and as always Minors DNI and if you do or if you’re a nameless blog I will block you instantly. 

Word Count: 2.6K

Summary: Megumi, Itadori, Nobara, Gojo, Nanami...I’m sorry. I wasn’t able to keep my promise and protect all of you. 

Debris settled over the city. You coughed, cringing at the blood that spilled from your lips at the hit you had taken. You looked around you, watching as more buildings collapsed, people screamed causing it to echo. You couldn’t find anybody no matter where you looked. Your heart raced inside your chest. 

How much longer would you be able to pull this off? Ever since Sukuna and Itadori had been separated he caused nothing but destruction. 

You watched the curse you were currently fighting rush towards you. It’s green spindles shot out only for you to dodge it in the nick of time. The wall where you had been standing in front of was nothing but a hole. You cringed. That could’ve been you.

Before you had time to recover it focused it’s sights on you again, the eight purple eyes stared directly into yours. You tried to get up again only to be met by an explosion of pain. You glanced down at your hand nursing the wound on your stomach only to see crimson seep through your fingers. Shit. 

It let out a wicked shriek, leaving your ears ringing. It charged at you again. You closed your eyes. 

Megumi, Itadori, Nobara, Gojo, Nanami...I’m sorry. I wasn’t able to keep my promise and protect all of you. 

“Protect me?” Gojo’s voice was incredulous as he tossed his head back and laughed. It had been a busy day filled with killing curses and saving people, but at the end of it all of you were able to spend time together and watch the fireworks. “I’m the strongest there is, if anything it would be me protecting you.” 

Nanami huffed at his response, proceeding to whack him upside the head. He whined, turning to Nanami no doubt to start playfully fighting him which would end in Nanami sighing in disappointment.

You could only shake your head at the two of them while Nobara scoffed, nudging your arm with a grin. “Yeah, and besides we’re all going to get stronger so we don’t need to be protected.”

Megumi nodded with a small smile which caused you to huff.

“It’s not like that!” You clenched your fists beside you, before lowering your voice. “It’s just that all of you are precious to me and I’ll do whatever it takes to not see you hurt.”

They were all speechless at your response until Itadori’s face lit up into a bright smile. “Let's do it!” He cheered, jumping into the air. “We’ll be the best group of sorcerers out there you’ll see! Let’s all protect each other.”

The six of you looked at each other with matching soft expressions, a silent agreement that you’d all make it to the very end when the first explosion fired off. Itadori shrieked at the unexpected boom that echoed in the sky causing your laughter to break the silence between each firework. 

You smiled looking back on the memory. It was fun. The people you met, the friends you gained, you wouldn’t have traded it for the world. As you anticipated the final blow one last thought flashed through your mind. You had no regrets.

An explosion of light flooded from behind your eyelids, you braced for impact but none came. Slowly, you cracked an eye open only to have your breathing hitch. Standing where the cursed spirit used to be was-

“Sukuna,” your own voice surprised you. The demon turned to you with an unamused expression.

“Think you can just die like that?” He sneered approaching you. “You fool.” 

You tried to get up, all your senses screaming to fight but you only managed to straighten your posture before wincing in pain. Broken ribs, you assumed, if not worse. “What do you want?” You managed to croak out. 

Standing above you, his eyes were filled with venom. You swallowed silently wishing the destroyed cursed spirit had taken you out. You refused to break away from his gaze while his hand moved to cup your cheek. You flinched from his touch expecting him to rip your skin away with the swipe of his talons, but instead he clicked his tongue at the action.

“Make no mistake little one, If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.” His voice sent shivers down your spine, but your body relaxed at the words. You wanted to shake your head. How could that even be remotely comforting?

You couldn’t dwell on it for long because the next thing you knew you could breathe properly again. You took a deep breath in, almost choking on it. You removed your hand from your stomach only to gape in shock. 

“You,” you looked up at the demon with wide eyes. “You healed me?”

He rolled his eyes. He couldn’t stand the way humans interacted nor did he want to. He craved the chaos he created and only wanted to see more of it, but one sorcerer managed to get under his skin, you. 

You were an enigma, your cursed energy was strong, that was for certain and as obsessed as he was with Megumi there was something about you that drew him to you. Maybe it was the way he could tell you were a virgin. You had so much experience but none with another person’s touch. He thought many times about you being tied up and at his mercy while he edged you for hours causing you to cry out pleas along with his name. 

Unfortunately there was no time to act on what he wanted with him still being inside the brat, but now, now was the perfect time. 

“Why?” The question left your mouth before you could stop it. He wanted to laugh at your perplexed expression paying close attention to your lips. You didn’t realize it, but you backed yourself into a corner. 

“Oh Little Sorcerer,” he crooned mockingly. A sinister smile stretched across his face reminding you just who you were dealing with. 

Squatting down to your level, he let his eyes rove over your body, paying close attention to where your uniform was torn and wrinkled. Instinctively, you covered yourself to the best of your ability which only made him lick his lips.

“You didn’t think I did that without a price,” his voice dropped an octave, “did you?”

Your heart stuttered in your chest while you gasped. There was no way, but noticing the hunger in those eyes that held a predatory gleam you understood what he meant. You couldn’t-

“Get away from them!” Megumi shouted. His footsteps raced towards where you were. Itadori and Nobara were fast at his heels shouting for you. A ghost of a smile fell onto your face. They were okay. From what you saw the only wounds were some scratches and bruises. They would be okay. The relief quickly faded when a talon turned your chin to make you look at him once more.

His teeth were on full display. “Let’s make a contract, shall we? I won’t hurt your friends as long as you do what I want in my domain.”

You raised an eyebrow skeptically. “And what would that be?”

“I get to ruin you.”

You knew you could stall, could buy time until they could help you, but the more you waited the more people screamed.

“So little one, what will it be?” Sukuna’s voice rang heavy in your ears. You could either go with him or more people would be hurt. You purse your lips, you had two choices: either allow Sukuna to take you and buy your friends some time or wait for them and risk more people dying. 

With a deep breath you faced the demon. “If I go with you, you promise that no person, that includes jujutsu sorcerers and civilians will be harmed?”

“Of course.”

Part of you didn’t trust him, but you mulled over the deal, searching for any loopholes. Megumi, Itadori and Nobara were getting closer. 

“Time’s running out, have you made a decision?”

You looked at your friends one last time as they screamed in horror running faster. With a final breath you focused back on the king of curses. 

“I accept.”

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

“Such a pretty little thing aren’t you?”

Obscene sounds echoed throughout the domain as you grinded against Sukuna’s tongue that resided on his abdomen. Small whimpers and broken moans spilled from your lips. Tears slid down your face while the appendage was lapping at your folds, flicking at your clit every now and again. Each grind down had your toes curling. You tossed your head back.

“Shut, ah, shut up!” You tried to shout, but it held no mirth to it. 

Sukuna smirked at your reaction. Still so fiery even after he edged you, you were a fun one that was for certain. 

He’d envisioned this moment many times before, but nothing beat the real thing. He kept your arms stretched above you with one of his hands while the other he used to cup your cheek. He lived for your expression, the way your eyelashes were grouped together with tears as you were forced to keep taking what he was giving you, completely at his mercy.

“What’s wrong little sorcerer,” he snarled. “Can’t take my tongue?” He couldn’t help but grow addicted to the breathy pants you let out as you clamped down at his words. His eyes widened, peering at you with an expression that almost looked impressed. 

“Who knew you could be such a slutty pet. Nobody’s ever touched you like this before and you’re already so fucked out, I wonder what will happen when you cum, hm?”

“Fu-fuck you,” you managed to get out between moans. You refused to give into him, wishing you had more strength in you to glare. You needed to put up a fight. 

He raised an eyebrow with a laugh. “Brat,” he dug his nails into your hips, there would be indents there for days, but he didn’t care. “You try to put up such a front, wouldn’t it feel better to give in rather than fight me? You’re so wet and you’ve been so good, so pliant for me are you sure you don’t want a reward?

The familiar coil in your stomach was about to break causing you to thrash your head back and forth. The burn was becoming painful, you didn’t know how much longer you’d last if he kept denying you. Sukuna noticed, forcing your hips to grind faster. 

“Oh? Is the little sorcerer close? Tell me, do you want to know what it’s like to cum from somebody other than you, hm?” He hummed keeping the brutal pace, watching as you heaved for breath, your eyes glossy and almost rolling back. A twisted grin morphed onto his face at the sight. 

“Don’t tell me I’ve fucked you dumb already,” he bit his lip to keep from groaning out into the domain. The reflection of the water only made you look more wrecked. “Tell me, is this what you’re going to look like when you're stretched out on my cock?”

The image alone had your toes curling. You couldn’t fight it anymore. You needed release. “M’close. M’so close. M’gonna cum. Gonna ngh gonna cum Sukuna. Sukuna,” you babbled, slurring your words.

You were almost there all you needed was one more extra push. 

Before you had time to process what was happening your hips stilled. A loud sob ripped it’s way from your throat. You couldn’t handle being denied anymore. All you could do was struggle in his hold and curse the king in front of you for torturing you like this. That’s when it registered, he was going to kill you like this. That must’ve been his plan all along.

You were about to speak, to tell him to just kill you already when he leaned closer towards you. His lips ghosted against yours. Without thinking you leaned in, desperate to feel his lips against yours, but before you could he pulled away and gazed at you.

You could see your reflection in his eyes, the way you were drooling for him, you were a mess, your eyes glossy from crying, you didn’t recognize the person staring back at you. You couldn’t remember how many times he edged you, but it was unbearable. 

“Beg me.”

Your breath caught in your throat even though you’d been expecting that. Part of you, the desperate want that curled itself into your skin and set your heart aflame wanted to cave in. Wanted so badly to finally get the release you’ve been craving all this time, but rationally you looked at the demon and whispered, “I, I can’t.”

As soon as the words were out you wanted to take them back, disappointment swam within you. You wanted to know what it was like, but the sorcerer in you couldn’t yield. You reminded yourself that you were doing this for them, but that would’ve been a lie.

 You expected Sukuna to tear you to shreds or leave you like this but instead he shushed you.

Your eyes snapped open, not even remembering when you closed them. He only rubbed your back with one of the hands that was on your hip while the other hand holding your arms set them down.

“Such a brave sorcerer, aren’t you? Even when you’re so desperate you still hold so much strength, but don’t you want to be ruined? Don’t you wish you would just be able to let go and have somebody else take the reins?” His voice was uncharacteristically soft like he was talking to something fragile, something that could break. 

“I-”

You couldn’t deny that it sounded nice, to be out of control for once, to just let yourself be ruined by Sukuna. You craved release so bad it hurt. You shuddered against him at the thought of finally being able to lose yourself in pleasure while the cool air of the domain caught up to you.

Without hesitation, Sukuna embraced you in his arms, bringing you close to his chest. You imagined that if he was human, you’d be able to hear his heart beat pressed against him like this. He caressed any inch of your body his hands could reach as he placed a chaste kiss to your temple. You settled in the warmth.

“Shh, just let me take care of you little one,” he squeezed you close before placing two set of his hands on your shoulders to pull you back. It took everything in him not to smile. He had you, he knew he had you judging by the way your face was going from conflicted to completely lax. 

“I’ll ruin you for anybody else,” the hands on your shoulders dropped down to barely touch your waist, tickling you. He began to kiss down your jaw, moving to your neck. “You could rule by my side and stay with me in this space forever, you wouldn’t have to worry about curses,” he sucked a mark causing you to whimper. “Or saving people,” his other hands moved to play with your nipples. “Or those pesky sorcerers.” 

Your mind was reeling, unable to concentrate on any coherent thought. The difference from being so rough to being soft was messing with your head. You were losing yourself, but still tried so desperately to hang on, to not give in. You had friends you needed to protect, but all of that was fading away. 

Sukuna noticed and as he sucked on your earlobe, he used the hands tickling you to meet your hips, positioning you over his cock. “All you have to say is-”

“Please.”

[cyndavilachase]

I’m Looking Forward Now 💖Thank you and good bye

So, it’s been a little over a week since Steven Universe Future ended… 

I’ve been hesitant to write this, honestly, but I’m tired of holding myself back from properly expressing myself in fear of appearing overly invested in the media I consume, even in private. Writing helps me organize my thoughts and feelings, and I feel like these thoughts in particular may resonate with many, so I want to share them. I want to talk about what Steven Universe has done for me personally, both as an artist, and as a person.

I’ve been around since the day the first episode of the original series aired. I actually remember when Steven Universe was just a logo on Wikipedia’s “List of Upcoming Cartoon Network Shows” list, back when I was a freshman in high school. It piqued my interest, but when commercials finally dropped for it, I thought it was going to be bad because of the way marketing handled introducing Steven as a likeable character. There was still something about it that made me want to give it a chance though, so I went online and watched the pilot before the first episode's release. I was hooked immediately. I knew I was going to love it, and I did. I fell so absolutely in love with Steven as a character, and the world that he and the gems lived in. I became obsessed. I was always so excited for new episodes to come out. Little did I know what else it would do for me as I went through my adolescence alongside it.

As the show progressed, it was evident that what I wanted out of a western animated childrens’ cartoon was finally coming into fruition: this show was becoming serialized. There was continuity, there was plot, there was character development-- it was getting deep. It was pushing the groundwork that Adventure Time laid out even further (thank you, Adventure Time).  

I will give credit where credit is due: earlier western childrens’ cartoons I grew up with like Hey Arnold, and Rugrats, among others, also touched on heavy topics, but Steven Universe was able to take similar ideas (and even more complex ones, concerning mental health and relationships) and expand on them outside of contained episodes and/or short arcs. These themes, which were a part of the show’s overarching story, spanned across its entirety. Continuity was rampant. 

What did this mean? It meant kids cartoons didn’t have to be silly and fun all the time and characters weren’t just actors playing a part in 11-minute skits. Steven and the gems would remember things that happened to them, and it affected them and how they would function and play a part in their story. This was a huge deal to me as a teenager. I always wanted the cartoons I grew up with featuring kid characters to feel more. In my own work, I often felt discouraged when combining a fun, cutesy western art style with themes as dark or layered as anime would cover. I always thought it had to be one or the other because an audience wouldn’t take a combination of the two seriously enough, based on discussions I had with classmates, friends, and online analysis I read at the time. Steven Universe proved to me otherwise. This show was opening the door for future cartoons exploring in-depth, adult concepts. I felt so seen as a kid, and was inspired to stick with what I love doing.

I was actually very worried about the show’s survival. It was in fact immensely underrated and the fandom was miniscule. Then in 2014, JailBreak dropped, and it’s popularity exploded. Part of it was because of the complex plot and the themes it was covering like I mentioned, but also because of its representation. 

I remember when fandom theorized that Garnet was a fusion due to grand, tragic reasons. Turns out, she’s simply a metaphor for a very loving w|w relationship. This was huge. I cannot stress how important it is that we continue to normalize healthy canon queer relationships in childens’ media, and Steven Universe finally was the first to do that proper. Introducing these themes offers the chance for a kid to sit there and ask themselves, “Why is this demonized by so many people?” I asked myself exactly that. Ruby and Sapphire were my cartoon LGBT rep. They were the first LGBT couple I ever ecstatically drew fanart of. I was dealing with a lot of internalized homophobia at the time, and they showed me that I was allowed to love women and feel normal about it. The process of overcoming this was a long one, but they played a part in my very first steps into becoming comfortable with my sexuality. I could go on and on about it’s representation in general-- how it breaks the mold when it comes to showcasing a diverse set of characters in design, in casting, and in breaking gender roles. It’s focus on love and empathy. Steven himself is a big boy, but he's the protagonist, and the show never once makes fun of his weight, or any other bigger characters for that matter. It wasn’t hard to see why the fandom had grown so large.

Fandom was always a joy for me. It was a hobby I picked up when I was in middle school, like many of us here did. I would always cater my experience to fun, and fun only. I only started getting more deeply involved in SU’s fandom when I had just turned into an adult. During the summer of 2016, between my first and second year of college, I drew for the show almost every day non-stop when the Summer of Steven event was going on and posted them online. This was a form of practice for me in order to become not just more comfortable with experimenting with my art, but also to meet new artists, make new friends, and learn to interact with strangers without fear. I dealt with a ton of anxiety when I was in high school. When I was a senior applying to art school for animation, I decided I was going to overcome that anxiety. I made plans to take baby steps to improve myself over the course of my 4 years of college. Joining the fandom, while unforeseen, was definitely a part of that process. I started feeling more confident in sharing my ideas, even if they were fan-made. I fell in love with storyboarding after that summer, when I took my first storyboarding class, and genuinely felt like I was actually getting somewhere with all of this. I remember finally coming to a point in my classes where I could pitch and not feel hopelessly insecure about it. I was opening up more to my friends and peers. 

But this process, unfortunately, came to a screeching halt. 

My life completely, utterly crumbled under me in the Fall of 2017 due to a series of blows in my personal life that happened in the span of just a couple weeks. My mental health and sense of identity were completely destroyed. All of that confidence I had worked for-- completely ruined. I was alone. I nearly died. My stay at college was extended to 4 and half years, instead of the 4 I had intended. I lost my love for animation-- making it, and watching it. I could no longer watch Steven Universe with the same love I had for it beforehand. It’s a terrible thing, trying to give your attention to something you don’t love anymore, and wanting so desperately to love again. I dropped so many things I loved in my life, including the fandom.

Healing was a long and complicated road. I continued to watch the show all the way up until Change Your Mind aired in the beginning of 2019, and while I still felt empty, that was definitely a turning point for me with it’s encapsulation of self-love. I was hoping James Baxter would get to work on Steven Universe since he guest-animated on Adventure Time, and it was incredible seeing that wish actually come true. The movie came out and while I enjoyed it and thought highly of it, I was still having issues letting myself genuinely love things again, old and new. It was especially difficult because cartoons were my solace as a kid, when things got rough at home. I remember feeling sad because the show ended, and not getting the chance to love it again like I used to while it was still going.

By the time Steven Universe Future was announced, I was finally coming around. I was genuinely starting to feel excitement for art and animation again. I wasn’t expecting there to be a whole new epilogue series, but happily ever after, there we were! Prickly Pear aired, and the implications it left in terms of where the story was going did it. I was finally ready to let myself take the dive back into fandom in January of this year. My art blew up, something I wasn’t expecting considering my 2-year hiatus. Following this, I was invited into a discord server containing some of the biggest writers, artists, editors, and analysts in the fandom. I had no idea there were so many talented people in the fandom, some already with degrees, some getting their degrees-- creating stuff for it on the side just for fun. The amount of passion and productivity level here is insane, and so is the amount of discussion that has come out of it.

I didn’t realize it at first, but it was actually helping me gain back the courage to share ideas. I lost my confidence in pitching while I was taking the time to heal, and graduating meant there would no longer be a classroom setting I could practice in. This group helped immensely. 

I have made so many friends through this wonderful series, and I have so many fond memories talking to like-minded creatives, getting feedback and a myriad of sources for inspiration, as well as all of the memes and jokes and weekly theorizations that came about as we all waited on the edges of our seats for episodes to air. I needed this so badly, I needed to get back in touch with my roots, when I would go absolutely hog-wild over a cartoon I loved with people who loved it as much I did. Future has been a blessing for me in this way. I graduated feeling like I was back at square-one, but now I feel like I’m on my way again.

It’s 2020 and while I’m doing great right now, I am honestly still recovering from the total exhaustion that followed after graduating a few months ago, and finally leaving the campus where my life fell apart behind. Needless to say, watching Future was like looking into a mirror. Watching one of my favorite characters of all time-- one that grew up with me-- go through so many of the same things I went through not too long ago was absolutely insane to watch unfold. It’s such an important thing too, to show a character go through the process of breaking down over trauma and all the nasty things that come with it, and to have them go on the road to healing. Steven got that therapy. He wasn’t blamed. The gems were called out. The finale was everything I could have ever hoped for. The catharsis I experienced watching it was out of this world.

As I continue my own healing journey, I will always look up to the storyboard artists, revisionists, and designers that I have been following over these past 7 years, as well as the new ones introduced in Future. It's been such a joy watching these artists release their promo art for episodes, talk about their experiences working on the show, and post the work they've done for it alongside episodes airing.

Thank you Rebecca Sugar, the Crewniverse, and the fans, for making this such a truly wonderful and unique experience. Thank you for reminding me that I am, and always will be, an artist, a cartoonist, and a fan. Thank you, my followers, for the overwhelmingly positive response to my artwork. I have had so much fun interacting and discussing the show with you all again over these past few months. Steven Universe and it’s fandom will always have a special place in my heart, and it will always be a classic that I will return to for comfort and inspiration for decades to come. I am sad that the cartoon renaissance is over, but so many doors have been opened thanks to this show. I am so, so excited to see what this show will inspire in the future, and I hope one day I get the opportunity to be a part of that. 

Goodbye Steven, thank you for everything. I wish you healing, and I wish Rebecca and the team a well-deserved rest. ♥️

-Cynthia D.

[muffindaddystyles]

𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐊.

Summary: Where you got a panic attack while attending a lecture at University and Harry's out of reach.

Warning: Angst, ah! yes no worries you'll get fluff in the end.

P.S: 𝐖𝐞'𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐝𝐚𝐲'𝐬 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲.

Snuggled into cosy sheets, sweater paws wrapped around a cuppa, the strands of your dark hair tickling the nape of your neck and a sheepish smile of yours crawled against the rim happy while you scrolled through your Instagram feed seeing a short video of Harry singing Landslide on karaoke with his best pal at their get-together.

You and Harry were bestfriends, you met him at a vintage shop in basement where they sell old vintage tees. Despite of knowing who he was you fought with him cheekily over a same 'Pink Floyd's.' T-shirt at that time you guys decided to share it, he'd come to take it from you after every three days a week.

Two years of bestfriendship from you taking him to local south asian and chinese restaurants, to dragging him to yearly fair demanding him to win a bunny for you, to going on a competition for free pizzas only ending up loosing because you were litreally about to go sick, dancing like a maniac at the low price arcade at your university's backstreet, to him dragging you to his friends get-togethers which are quite fun they are super chill but your anxiousness is a little bitch she pops out of nowhere but Harry doesn't mind at all.

Now you're here. Being his lover for an year. He confessed his love for you when he was high on shrooms and you laughed it off tucking him to sleep at his place because he always used to say he 'loves you.' but that was in friends typa way until at the Christmas time while you were having fun for real at Jeff's house with Harry crowded by his mates that one of the Jeff's friends approached you and Oh dear lord' from even so far Harry's sight was dagger to a prey and was hot on his heels, if he would have been a cartoon character red smoke could have seen through his ears.

"Pet?" His brows kinked together as he squeezed you to a corner and he pulled at his bottom lip when your attention was on that guy waving you good-bye, "what Harry?" You asked him nonchalantly peering him through your down gaze.

It was enough to pinch his nerves and Amy one of his girl friend smirked watching the scenario when he was taking both of you to rooftop. With folded forearms you smiled with a certain mischief at the clear jealousy of him ripping through his every action, "jus' wanna protect ye', kiddo." He paced back to you sighing with a painful clench in his chest. He wanted to spill out but why the hell it was so difficult.

"Huh?" Your eyes widened like a deer under the moonlight at his obvious incoherence and he hissed pulling at his roots so you retorted calmly, "relax he was just a guy graduated in the same degree as me." You wanted him to confess his feeling out to you, at many occasions you guys joked about marrying eachother if you both fail to find your perfect partner. Like when you got all sentimental seeing Jeff's first baby at the hospital, getting a baby fever wanting one bubba right that time and Harry joked if any consequences he would help you put a baby in you and trust me nobody in the room laughed, they had deadpaned faces, they all know you guys have crossed the borderline but are playing blind.

His friends have inner jokes for you and Harry, their famous four bets on when Harry will ask you out, his first love confession to you, him proposing you and what your first born would be. Half of them lost more money than they could have imagined in a group of seven, Amy was smirking with full heart because she was praying maybe this time she'll win the bet.

"He looked like he drank 'is arse off." You rolled your eyes at his anxious quip wrapping your cardigan closer to your chest muttering under your breath and Harry's head snapped from your feet to your face, he knew it was ending point of his act "Harry he was completely sober."

He still remained firm at his ground pouting as his curled fingers brushed your elbows to bring you closer, "...but he's still a guy, ye' know.." You wanted to laugh at his face at his silly comment but instead arched your brow sternly.

"So. You aren't?" His heart-shaped lips bubbled around his words but you cut him off, "because if I remember last time you had a dick in between your legs." At this he strewned his lip inside not to chuckle how cute dirty words sounds coming out of your lips.

You frowned feeling cold when he pulled back from you turning his back to you to take a deep breath and his eyes were darker than before from frustration when he turned to face you.

"'Kay fuck. I love you, that's it. happy? I love you and don't wanna loose ye' to anyone!" You knew it coming but not like a bullet so it hit you like one freezing your breath into cold dense air, "you do?" You were at loss of words padding towards him for reassurance as if you're his little girl.

When you were inches away from him He noded without any hesitation saturating even that distance, "yes. I do. Since we've met, since you've invaded all of mind and heart." He wrapped you in his warm conforting arms humming when he snoggled his cheek against your hair.

You playfully scowled at him, "well didn't do that on purpose." Your naughtiness of that moment vanished into air when he asked you sincerely breath tasting you, "can I kiss ye' sweet girl?" Your single nod and his lips were on yours into a deep open mouthed passionate kiss, like how lovers kiss.

His cold finger-tips brushed the under shell of your earlobes earning a shuddering moan and you slipped your hands into the front pockets of his trousers.

Your own icy hands causing him to buck his hips into yours and the sensual touch made you both a whimpering mess. Tongues caressing, lips swiping, teeth nibbling and noses brushing as you kissed until your lips froze to mist.

"Cold?" You admired his after tenderness, lips magenta from heavy makeout session and he twirled a loose errand of your hair around his shiny jewl clad finger kissing your forehead and taking your hands in his bringing them closer to his lips to blow out his warmth to them.

But, there was another pair of eyes watching you astonished and somewhat gasping in awement. Amy, she came to call you guys. Then she rushed back downstairs doing a little prance and all of the people watched her in confusion.

"Ten, ten bucks each. C'mon bitches Harry said I love you to y/n!" Everyone squealed happily at her enthusiastic announcement only groaning at the end when she made a grabby hand, "I won. Now gimme my money."

Even though they all knew they acted like nothing happened respecting your guys descion of whenever you'd like to share your relationship to them, both you and Harry couldn't hold longer.

Your affection it's not new you've been affectionate to eachother since the very start, but this one have meaning and feelings, deep sensations. Hand grazes, knee touches, teasing glances, innocent bantering as if you could rip each others clothes right infront of them, closeness and quite fuck visits in their washrooms were getting obvious day by day and you ended up telling them getting showered in blessings in return.

Right now, with a shake of your head you went past through your boyfriend's antics going through Instagram stories. Your brows furrowed together in curiosity when you came through a post that had a large 'sensite content.' written on it.

This's what happens when curiously takes best of you. You end up doing things you regret time after and this's what happened to you.

"My god!" You clamped your palm over your mouth, eyes widening in horror and nerves crippling in fear. The gor video full of cruelness and blood infront of you making your body shudder.

𝐶𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑖𝑡! 𝐷𝑎𝑚𝑚𝑖𝑡 𝐶𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑖𝑡! 𝐶𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑦/𝑛!!!!

Your mind screamed at you to just move past it but your eyes remained numbed to same video and your heart's weeping for the poor women in the video but you're rigid in your sheets with the cup of tea shaking with the shudder of your fear.

Then the consciousness hit you like a train and you snapped out of it quickly shutting your phone throwing it carelessly on the sheets, putting the porcelain cup with a shivering hand onto nightstand.

You shrinked into your sheets trying to calm your breaths. Bolting shut your eyes you shrugged and shook your head many times to get rid of the same image circling in your mind like a demon trying to haunt you.

You stopped breathing without realizing arm over your forehead as you stared the ceiling, lip sucked into your mouth and talking to yourself you tried to concentrate on something else.

You're feeling it coming. It's collecting in the form of bile in your throat and when you were talking with yourself. Your stupid obnoxious brain played your voice ten times faster and it echoed inside your own fleshy bones like a broken record in the barren house of devil.

You're hating it. You inhaled an audible gasp of loud horrific breath shoting up from your sleeping position throwing your duvet to ground ready to run away, you're trying to run away from yourself from your bloody damn thoughts.

You want Harry. He knows about your anxiety and panic attacks. You had your fair amount of panic attacks in his presence, but he always managed to bring you back to him. He used to make you practice breathing patterns and techniques on how to escape from your own subspace.

The first time you got it infront of him was when everyone protested that you should stay for sometime more but it was already two in the morning and you had an exam in the next morning it was just for him that you went along, but you were kinda angry on your own self for taking risks for just a friendship. Then it came into a black pitch waves of suffocation in his car while he was driving you back home, he was unaware of your condition and practically cried when he couldn't bring you back to him.

That night he slept in your bed for the first time. He wanted to stay closer to you in any case, you were sad that you made him worried for no-reason but he shushed you with infinite forehead kisses, he whisper yelled at you full of concern if he might be suffocating you but you giggled a "no." kissing his cheeks getting cosy in his embrace eyes drooping to sleep. He used to sing lullaby to you when you were having it bad particular nights.

Now, he wasn't here and you thought of calling him many times but decided against it only being your own helper. Taking a deep breath, you sang his lullaby to yourself, not letting tears to fall and reminisced all of the lovely memories of you together. Your kisses. Your laughs. Your cuddles. Your lovemaking. Your cooking failures together.

With all of these memories you were back in your bed closing your eyes only hearing Harry's soft affectionate rasps in your ears.

.

In the morning you have long forgotten that even the video existed. You were surprisingly fresh walking to your university's building in long strides, greeting everyone and anyone.

Harry just woke up from his lazy slumber. Making an orange juice for himself, his head heavy and he's in no mood to look at his phone. Grabbing his journal and putting on his rings, a special copper one that you gifted him on his ring finger smiling at it like a foolish fucker and pecking it shyly remembering you.

"Heyyy. H!" When he entered studio everyone greeted him joyfully and he hugged them all handing breakfast to each one of them he bought after standing in a queue for half an hour, "how's y/n?" Sarah asked chewing her bagel sitting behind the drums and the seed of distress sprouted in his stomach that he hasn't asked his bubby if she slept good lastnight? What she had in breakfast? If her day's going well.

There's this certain instinction that's making him restless but he can't quite put a finger on it.

"She's good. Gets a lill cranky if I win form 'er at the '10 phase' uno game." He chuckled with a hint of love under his tone his previous thoughts of checking onto you again slipping from his mind.

Plugging his phone to charger he rushed back to his favourite spot quickly taking his journal and pencil to scribble something.

It's your English lecture. The day went well. But now it's not. You're zoning out knowing how boring the lecture sounds.

You stared the way you drew your pencil into unstopping circles at the corner of page and your head was a dark vacant space when the way you acted last night flashed in your mind then the reason behind it, that damn video.

The video displaying like a reel in your mind again as if you're there experiencing it with your body. You twitched, and closing your eyes you snapped your head to side several times when the cold sweat broke at the back of your neck and shudder ran down your spine.

When you snapped for the tenth time in row a hand came squeezing yours, "you okay?" You slowly looked up at the guy sitting beside you as the professor's voice billowed further from you.

You just stared him numbly, tears making your sight blurry. Your breath hitching in your lungs and you can feel it clawing at you like a demon. To avoid getting made fun of yourself you stood up leaving your things and rushed for the door, when a hand came wrapping around your wrist in a tight grip.

"Where are you going miss? This's not acceptable." Your karen professor's voice sliced through your ears and your lungs are tightening with each passing second, everything spinning around you and all you're thinking's if you'd make it alive through this dark box of suffocation.

"S-sorry...I-I have to go—" You tried to stutter in between your broken breaths and she scowled burning her grip into your wrist. Your cheeks numb as you didn't feel tears slipping down to the valley of your breasts, "tell me the reason and I'll let you." Your head fell back at that and you bolted your eyes shut as tight as possible. Then when you tried to inhale you couldn't and everyone around hooed loudly watching you in shock as you tried to escape her with weak crying attempts.

"Let me go!" You shrieked. With wide eyes she let you and you fell to ground painfully hard. It was coming. You sobbed out harshly but it went silent at the end and you bunched your shirt atop your heart when your vision went pitch black, whole body shaking and you forgot even if the oxygen existed.

It's consuming you. Everything around you moving in slow motion. Their shouts for you like a sleepy mumble and it's just Harry's lullaby melodic in the pocket of your heart but it's cold and deserted with nothing but claustrophobia shoving you brutally into darkness where nobody could hear you crying.

You act like a lioness ready to kill anybody while you're having a panic attack and when some hand came to help you. You screamed and growled swatting them away "Don't fuckin' touch me!—" even though your ears are buzzing and you gasped loudly to get some air but it's not helping. God help me, please. You prayed.

Your classmate went through your emergency phone numbers finding Harry's at the top and it ringed sitting in the other room from him.

Then he dialed another one. It was studio's landline, Harry has filled that number without your knowledge and well it helped.

"Harry?" The drums came to halt, the guitar was stopped mid shrivel and Harry's high note fell to ground when the receptionist came with a cordless phone.

"A phone for you from y/n university—" It was enough to smack his breath away and he scurried to his feet taking the phone hastily from her hold, controlling his voice to not yell at the person in his own anxiousness.

He tucked it beneath his ear taking the car keys and his phone out of instinct because when it's you he's always on alarm. What he heard from other side made his knees jello and ribs to knock in two, "fuck. Yeh. 'M comin' jus' yeah, make her breath gently....." He tried to instruct your classmate.

He cursed himself. Not giving two fucks if he broke every speed limit. His knuckles going white and he repeated a mantra of "breath baby. m' sweet sweet girl jus' breath." but he was just saying this to himself because you wasn't in his arms and he wasn't calming you, he's blaming all this on himself.

He didn't even parked his car. Striding inside the lobby and asking for you. After fifteen minutes of no breathing as you were about to hit the deep end you inhaled loudly filling your lungs with proper oxygen causing your eyes to go bloodshot and everyone sighed in relief.

Your classmate took you to University's healthcare room so someone guided Harry there. You had your knees tucked close to your chest, head resting on them to block any light as you whimpered with innocent small hiccups.

Your heart beat racing. Head hurting and chest aching from the after effect.

Harry had to get support of door's frame when his eyes fell over you. Over his Angel that was shrinked pitifully like she's scared of world crying on her own.

The sheets of stretcher rustled under his weight as he slowly and gently wrapped his arms around her, "baby..." He cooed on the verge of tears and she didn't had to look up to know he's here, his scent was enough to relax her mind.

Her parted lips moist over the crook of his neck as she sobbed into him. He tenderly rocked her, running his hand soothingly at her back, kissing her head and her nose wiping her tears "'m so sorry, my baby. my life. 'M so sorry."

You fisted his shirt, face smashed into his chest to avoid the world while embracing your own world, your Harry as he walked both of you to his car carrying your stuff too with him. He helped you sit inside the car rounding to the driver seat and he leaned to kiss your forehead, glossy eyelids and a peck to your lips never letting his concern divert from you as he drove home.

He made you comfortable into your bed, wrapping his forearms around your tummy and soothing your arms down to tranquil your heartbeats.

He knows it's hard for you to talk so he didn't tried to get words out of you. He just wants to be there for you, physically, spiritually, mentally. He's all yours.

After long hour you spoke voice barely above a whisper, "t-they all are gonna think 'm weird." Harry felt something jabbing his sides at her statement and he cradled her chin intensely looking her in eyes.

"No angel. I promise you they wouldn't. See how your classmate called me the very moment you weren't responding? They all genuinely cared for yer', y/n" He stroked the apple of her cheeks and she sighed waveringly new tears glistening at her eyelids.

"Thought I wasn't gonna see you ever again." Her words hit him like death and at that moment he realized they're more than just best friends, just lovers, they are soulmates and Harry would be devastated without her.

His music. His fashion. His cheekiness. His softness. His humbleness will all be gone because he's so dependent on her for everything.

She frowned lightly when Harry hugged her close to his heart, his cheek stuffed into the crook of her neck and when his wet lips rumbled with a sob she pulled him back from shoulders cupping his cheeks.

"Harry? Hey, bambi eyed. Baby look at me." You sniffled wiping your every tear and he refused to look at you sobbing hoarsely, squeezing you to feel you for his dear life.

"Don't say somethin' like that. I wouldn't be able to live without ye'." He muttered silent tears soaking her neck collecting at the dip of her collarbones. She played with his curls smooching his cheeks cooing at him, "'m here baby. in your arms. 'm fine, we're fine." She gave him an eskimo kiss when he finally pulled back. Eyes fluttering as she took a deep breath feeling her lungs nutritioning after so long.

"Did you forgot your promise of making me your babies momma or I've to make you remember?" She tried to light up the mood and he just chuckled kissing her lips, when he stood up she pouted making grabby hands at him.

"Hold me?" She asked innocently. Harry ducked down brushing her hair and kissing her head, "gonna run a bath for us sweet angel."

Interlacing your fingers he guided you to your bathroom. Rose candle's flame flickered a shadow onto mauve tiles as the water had pink waves, the scent is so him and it calmed your nerves down.

He undressed you with soft movements, planting a kiss to your shoulder when you were complete naked infront of him. Settling inside the porcelain tub he took your hand helping you inside, making you sit in between his legs.

Your back to his chest. Head resting on his shoulder and his breath fanning your cheeks. It's nothing sexual. Just you two relaxing your nerves.

He coiled his hands over your tummy, running his thumb in careless patterns near your belly button as the water droplets dropped from his curl atop your breasts.

Exhaustion taking over you. Your eyes drooping and you've no idea when he took you out changing you into his clothes and into bed slipping under covers with you.

"'M always gonna be there for ye', whatever it will take my soul to." His whispers caused your lips to curl in a smile and you hummed snuggling your face into his arm scooping you to him.

.

A/N: I know it's very excruciating for people going through this difficulty, we don't have Harry physically in our lives but he has helped us alot. I feel you and I believe you. It's okay after every hardship there's a moment of happiness personally created for you. All the love!

[fellulahh]

Lucifer takes care of MC when she’s sick

Posting this simply because it’s for my good friend @petitefeu - I hope this can cheer you up a little!

-

Feeling groggy, MC laid back in her bed as her tired eyes stared at the ceiling. For a few days now her temperature had been fluctuating while her nose was either blocked or running. She’d had enough of feeling under the weather.

Having already taken any medicine she could find, nothing seemed to work. Perhaps it was the fact that ‘demon’ antibiotics don’t seem to have any effect on humans. Either way, MC was fed up having tried everything.

She didn’t bother to turn her head when she heard a knock at the door. Stepping inside slowly, Lucifer appeared. His usually stern face sunk a little when he saw MC slumped under her duvet.

“Still not well I see.” He observed her rosey nose as he took a few steps closer to her bed.

“I’m getting incredibly fed up now.” MC sighed before sniffing, “I don’t understand how I’ve managed to get a cold! It’s always boiling in your realm.”

“Mm.” Lucifer nodded as he perched his body beside her on the mattress.

Studying her expression, Lucifer’s eyes grew concerned. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he hated seeing MC without her colourful personality. Yes, she was always getting herself into trouble with Mammon and Levi, but Lucifer liked that she was such a bubbly human.

With his gaze lingering on her tired eyes, Lucifer decided to take action. “Had you planned to attend RAD today?” He asked seriously.

“No.” MC shook her head.

“Good.” Lucifer stated, standing up from the bed. “I don’t want you to leave this room today. I’m going to take the day off and do what I can to help you feel better.”

“Haven’t you got a student council meeting this afternoon?” MC questioned, surprised by his sudden urge to look after her.

“I will have to miss it.” He informed her as he reached the door. Glancing over his shoulder, his expression remained serious as his eyes fell on MC again. “I hate to see you like this.”

And with that, he left the room. MC blinked for a moment as she processed their conversation. However, the pounding sensation in her head meant that the thought was short lived.

Flopping back onto her pillow, MC let out a deep breath as she anticipated Lucifer’s return.

Around twenty minutes passed before she heard footsteps approach her room. Slowly turning her head, MC watched as the door handle turned and soon Lucifer appeared before her again. Only this time he was carrying a silver tray.

MC managed to stifle a chuckle as he approached her. “Who are you? Barbatos?”

“I wouldn’t suggest making jokes when I am about to cancel an important meeting to take care of you, MC.” Lucifer shook his head with a ghost of a smirk.

Returning to his space on her bed, he rested the tray on his legs as he gripped the mug in front of him. Steam seeped from the liquid that was inside. “I made you some tea.” He informed her, placing the beverage on her bedside table, “it’s a special brand that should help with the blockage.”

MC’s eyes followed his every movement.

“I’ve also brought up some tissues from my study. You can’t keep blowing your nose on toilet roll - your delicate skin will become irritated.” He informed her, placing the small box beside her tea. “Now I wasn’t sure if you’d be hungry or not so whatever you don’t eat, I’ll leave for Beel.”

Attempting to sit up in bed, MC peered over at the tray. She was taken aback when she noticed the array of food he’d provided. All kinds of fruit filled the plate; MC could tell everything had been thought out by Lucifer.

“I’m hoping eating this will help bring you some energy.” He stated, “I’ve also got these.”

Picking up two small tablets between his fingers, Lucifer brought his hand closer to MC as he encouraged her to hold out her own.

“They should help with the headache.” He informed her.

“Thank you, Lucifer.” She spoke softly, appreciative for all that he’d done already. “You don’t have to do this, you know?”

“I know.” He nodded, “but for as long as you’re ill and hiding away up here, the longer I have to look after my six idiot brothers alone.”

She managed to laugh at his comment.

“Well thank you anyway.” She sighed.

Content that he’d managed to put a small smile on MC’s face, Lucifer reached into his pocket to grab his D.D.D. “I just need to inform Lord Diavolo that I can’t make it this afternoon. Is there anything else I can do when I get back?”

Cheeks growing rosey, MC awkwardly shifted. “Will you...” she spoke quietly, “will you hold me?”

Lucifer was almost startled by her request. “Hold you?” He asked softly, trying to make sure he heard her correctly.

“Yeah...” she breathed, “you don’t have to. It was silly of me to as—“

“No, I’ll do it.” He nodded, placing a gloved hand delicately on her shoulder. “Let me make this call and then I’ll come back.”

“Thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me, MC. You know I’d do anything for you.” He admitted quietly before leaving the room again.

[hailbop1701]

Chapter Four: Damn Kids...

Chapter four is here guys! I'm so happy you're enjoying the story because I've been having a lot of fun writing it! I want to say thank you again to @dw-writes for being an amazing beta! You are freakin' awesome and I love you.

-H❤🖖

Hollow Castle Masterlist

The trek to medical was a long one. They were no longer in easy territory; Reaper couldn’t help but compare it to one of those old games he played as a kid. Shaking his head, John led the team through the halls at a snail’s pace. The corridors went from decorated and vibrant to the stark clean white of a medical facility.

‘Well, I suppose they were clean at one point in time,’ John thought with a tired sigh.

Chekov, who had managed to keep up with John’s fast pace, looked up from his PADD. The kid blanched at what was in front of them. Wrinkling his nose, John and his finer sense of smell could definitely confirm that the walls were covered in blood and feces. Not to mention the bits and pieces of people that had been discarded and left behind to rot.

Chekov swallowed thickly, looking green around the gills. John was impressed; the first time he had ever seen anything like this he threw up. Twice. Though that was two lifetimes ago.

Pausing, John nudged Chekov gently. “Breathe through your mouth,” he advised and the boy did just that. Tilting his head to the side, John looked over his shoulder to check on the others,

“Jesus,” Lawrence muttered, covering his nose and mouth with a gloved hand.

Bitar sidled up next to him, eyeing the mess ahead of them with a slight grimace on her face. “I think God left this place a long time ago, Gabe,” she whispered with a shake of her head.

“Damn,” Jim whispered from John’s left, his eyes wide, his face growing pale. Pressing his lips together, Jim cleared his throat. “We, uh, getting closer to the signal, Pavel?” he asked quietly.

The young Russian nodded, gripping the PADD tightly in his hands.

John moved forward, making sure to keep only a couple of feet ahead of the group, far enough to take the brunt of an oncoming attack, and close enough to run back if he really needed to. He gave each room they came across a quick check. Poking his head into what looked to be an empty exam room, John stopped short. Frowning he stepped further into the room with his weapon raised.

“Bones?”

John grunted, his eyes narrowing as he spotted the trail of blood dripping down from a ventilation shaft. He twitched ever so slightly as Jim moved into the room cautiously. “What do you got?” he asked quietly.

Reaper moved around the exam table. Kneeling down, he pulled a knife from his boot.

A gagging noise erupted from behind him. “What the hell - what is that?” Jim groaned, turning away from the bloody mess on the floor.

John took the knife and moved around the bits of what used to be the remains of a human torso. Open and practically cleaned out, upon closer inspection, John noticed something odd. Leaning closer, he saw bloody footprints leading from the body and up the wall where they disappeared into the vent. They were small, almost childlike. His stomach dropped, ‘oh I’m not liking this at all.’ he thought, grinding his teeth. Standing abruptly, John grabbed Kirk’s arm and led him out of the room,

“Human torso. Fresh, we need to go,” He growled out, sending Kirk stumbling forward into a bewildered away team. His inner “Red Alert” system had been going off throughout this entire disaster, and it had just gotten louder. He was kicking himself. He’d figured that his raised hackles were due to the situation but no. That wasn’t it at all. They were being watched, hunted. Cursing under his breath, John looked over at Jim, who had a concerned and questioning gaze. Pressing his lips into a line, John urged everyone onward. “We’re being watched,” he whispered to Beckworth and Kirk. Both men tensed at his words. “We need to keep moving.” he barked, raising his rifle again.

They moved quickly and quietly down the corridor leaving bloody boot prints in their wake.

Three rights and a left turn later, John skidded to a stop. Low growls and the smell of death made him freeze at the corner. Holding up a fist letting the others know to stop, John, without saying a word, looked back and tapped his ear, then pointed to the corridor they needed to go down.

Beckworth nodded then gave a silent order to his two subordinates, “Cover the rear.”

Peering around the corner, John spotted half a dozen infected. They were in a sleeping state, standing on their feet like horses, hibernating until a fresh meal caught their attention. Frowning, John bit the inside of his cheek. His mind churned, trying to come up with the best way to deal with the block in their path without the others coming to harm or alerting every demon and its mother to their location.

Reaper let out a frustrated huff. He glanced over his shoulder at Jim and scowled, showing the captain his displeasure.

Kirk grimaced and mouthed, “That bad?”

John looked back at the milling group of demons, then back at Jim. The look he gave his friend was clear: “I can do it but it’s gonna cause problems.”

He beckoned Beckworth over and let the security officer take a peek at what was around the corner. Henry looked at John with almost startled eyes. “And you’ve dealt with these before?” he asked, voice barely above a hissed whisper.

John shrugged. “Sort of. These are a new breed and made up of several different species. Some will be more difficult than others.” His murmured explanation made both Beckworth and Kirk wince. Reaper chewed on the inside of his cheek again, his mind made up.

Beckworth looked at him with a glint in his eyes. “You have a plan?” he asked. John shrugged, “I figured I’d do what Jim does. Wing it and hope it works. Hunker down in there,” he whispered, jerking his head in the direction of a door closest to them in the crowded hall.

Jim gave him a teasing glare before his face became serious. “You’re not going to seriously fight those things on your own, are you?” the captain hissed and Reaper gave Kirk a raised eyebrow that clearly said, “Yes and there is nothing you can do about it.”

Jim set his jaw and his mind raced as he tried to think of other options but there weren’t any. Cursing, Kirk looked down the corridor again and then at John. “Damnit fine. Don’t die or I’m gonna be pissed,” he growled while pointing an accusing finger at his friend.

Reaper gave a short nod. He looked over at the rest of the group who had been silent but were aware of the new plan. Taking a deep breath, John let Jim settle behind him, ready to lead the group into the cover of what looked to be a large supply room.

Taking a deep breath, John pulled a grenade from his belt. Pressing down on the button, he heard a faint beep and hum. Waiting for a breath, he tossed the grenade into the center of the small horde. Holding Jim back, John ducked his head just as the grenade went off. The ‘boom’ rang in his ears as it shook the walls around them.

“Move!” he shouted as he rounded the corner with his rifle raised. The demons, or what was left of them screamed and howled at John with rage. Without missing a beat he fired. The lower demons fell in bursts. The two knights roared and raced forward, ready to tear Reaper apart. He was ready for them.

Fixing his stance, John took a deep breath. His first thought was, ‘Fuck this is gonna hurt,’ his second was, ‘God I hope these guys were human.’

No such luck.

One barreled right into him like a linebacker. John’s breath wheezed out of him like air from a balloon. Upon closer inspection, he saw that the monster who sent him flying was green. Orion.

‘Fucking fantastic.’

Reaper collided with the supply room door with a painful bang, his beloved rifle sent flying. Pushing the pain away, John, in one motion, shot to his feet and pulled his handgun from its holster. Firing three shots, he managed to make the turned Orion stumble back in surprise. This gave him time to clock the other knight - who was currently trying to pull a pipe from the bloodied corridor wall - and decide his best course of action.

The Orion roared at him, sending spit flying in all directions. He was pissed. Rolling his eyes, John pivoted and kicked out. His boot made contact with the Hell Knight’s knee, causing the monster to fall to the ground. In one swift movement, John grabbed the creature by the neck and gave a firm twist. There was a sickening crack and the demon fell; its head was no longer connected to its spine. But, being as paranoid as he was, Reaper expertly reloaded his handgun and put two in the demon below him. One in the head, and one in the heart. The action was illogical as Spock would point out, but it made him feel better.

He didn’t relax though; the fight was far from over. John turned and raised his arm just as the second Hell Knight brought down a large water pipe Yelling out in pain, John felt his arm break. Though, he was just thankful it wasn’t his head that broke instead. Time seemed to freeze for a moment. Looking closely at the Hell Knight, John knew this fight was going to be harder. This one had intelligence.

“Ah fuck me!” he growled upon seeing the “Section 31” badge stuck to the monster’s rotting flesh.

John gritted his teeth as he pushed back with force. The demon stumbled back and raised his weapon again. Rolling out of the way, John tucked his injured arm against his chest, he could already feel the bone knit itself back together. It was always an unusual sensation, as if his whole arm had gone to sleep but without it going numb. If fucking hurt like a bitch.

Panting, John glared at the demon before him. “Come on asshole, let’s get this over with,” he snarled, his hand slowly inching toward his belt. The ex-agent roared, raising his pipe again, then swung hard aiming for John’s legs.

Yelping, Reaper dove out of the way of the oncoming blow. He landed gracelessly on his back. Quickly, he twisted to his side, narrowly missing a fatal blow from Hell Knight above him. Startled muffled screams and a boom made Reaper momentarily freeze.

“BONES!” Jim Kirk’s scream made time come to a standstill.

Jumping to his feet, John barreled into the demon, sending them both crashing into the corridor wall. Pulling another SD grenade from his belt, John quickly pressed down on the button and shoved it into the demon’s rotting chest. Pushing away, John dove for the supply room door, where his crew was in danger.

A deafening boom and a burning heat licked his back, but he didn’t even feel the burn or the blood that coated him. He needed to get to them before the worst could happen.

----------oOo----------

Jim barreled into the dark supply room with Chekov right on his ass. Beckworth, Bitar, and Lawrence practically shoved them forward before sealing the door behind them. Jim squinted into the darkness, his antique gun raised only halfway.

“Nothing should get through that door,” Bitar said with a relieved sigh.

A loud bang echoed through the room as something big hit the door they had just come through, followed by a slew of muffled cursing. Chekov let out a soft chuckle and Jim had to smile a little.

“No matter what, it’s the same ol’ Bones,” he sighed with a shake of his head.

“Gabe, check the room. Lila, check for supplies,” Beckworth ordered and the two redshirts immediately moved out.

Jim raised his gun the rest of the way and followed the young security Ensign further into the room. This caused Beckworth to sigh in exasperation, no matter what he did the captain will always be beside his men. Not behind.

“I got the right. Gabe, you go left,” Kirk whispered.

The young man nodded, and swallowed hard, unable to speak. He was so damn scared. Taking a deep steadying breath, Gabriel Lawrence moved into the dark.

He wouldn’t say that he was the best in security. His mother was a high-ranking security officer back in her day, and she had high expectations for him. She was older when he was born. Her end goal wasn’t to raise children, she simply wanted to continue on with a big legacy. And Gabe refused to let his mother down. So, he went to the academy and entered the security track. if Gabe were to really choose what to do with his life, he would have been a chef. He loved to cook, he loved to make people happy with his cooking. He wanted to drop out and tell his mother what he really wanted to do, who he wanted to be; but they had gotten word that he was assigned to the Enterprise and she was so proud.

The Fleet’s flagship.

He didn’t have the heart or the courage to turn it down. So, he went. And there he was, walking through a dark supply room on a taken-over starbase with monsters from Hell. “This is just great Gabe, wonderful life choices,” he muttered to himself. A clang and shuffle made him stop short in his tracks.

Turning, he strained his ears, “Hello?” he called out, bending at the waist he kept his phaser up. He peeked and peered through the crowded shelves of the supply room only to see nothing at all. Another clamor made him stop and quickly twist around; shadows danced around him, skittering in and out between the shelves.

Cautiously moving forward, Gabe called out one more time, “Hello, is anyone there?” the sound of crying reached his ears. ‘Sounds like a kid,’ he thought as he rushed forward.

Sitting there in a small pool of light was a small child curled in on themself, shaking like a leaf, facing a blood-stained wall.

Moving closer, Gabe reached out a gentle hand. “Hey kiddo it’s okay you’re going to be-” he choked on his words as the little boy turned around.

Lawrence has never seen anything like that before. Yelping, he scrambled back, falling onto his ass. The little boy in front of him looked dead: skin gray and rotting; his once brown eyes dull and oozing dark blood. The boy gave a raspy giggle and a leery bloody smile. It all made the hairs on Gabe’s body stand on end. He raised his phaser at the boy with shaking hands. But the dead child in front of him wasn’t what made his blood freeze.

It was the sound of low growls and snickering coming from behind him. Slowly turning around, he saw them all. Small, hunched, bloody, and ready for a fresh meal. Gabe knew right at that moment that he was never going to make it off Genesis. ‘Hope I made you proud momma,’

Later when it was all said and done Jim Kirk stopped to talk to Admiral Lawrence, she responded to his question, “Were you proud?”

Her answer was and would always be, “I was proud of him no matter what he did. That boy was more than just a legacy, he was my whole world. And I regret every day that I didn’t tell him that enough.”

Jim refused to tell her how he died. How much he screamed, and how afraid he was. All Kirk would say was that, “Gabe was an amazing security officer, and that he saved them all from dying the same way he did.”

Kirk would sometimes flashback to that moment. He would remember Gabe's screams of pain and terror but before he could run to help him, a blast knocked him off his feet. Phaser overload.

“BONES!”

Tags:

Everything: @thottiewithashotgun, @lauraaan182, @writerdee1701, @stileslover13-blog, @cowenby2, @bluesclues-1234, @sayuri9908

Hollow Castle: @chook007, @lauranthalasah

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Tokyo Tower (End) The Script is Rewritten

*waggles eyebrows* Hinted at in the chapter Butterfly Effect, little decisions lead to huge consequences. :)

"Is the King General's legacy?" Chisei's back was against Tachibana’s.

The deadpool in front of you has not only evolved a snake tail, but even evolved a pair of membrane wings. In the legends of countless ancient civilizations, the difference between ordinary beasts and gods and demons is the power of flight.

These Deadpool have very little human to them; they are far closer to wild dragons, dancing in the air.

The legendary dragon deadpool has appeared in the world.

 "Go back to the elevator!" Chisei shouts to you. But he himself suddenly burst past you, sword executing a swift arc of twisted light.

 The flying beast in front of you folded its wings like a raging gargoyle and lunged at you with its blade-like claws, but hit Chisei’s longsword before it could pounce over the railing and cut you open.

The sword made a rhythmic whoosh-whoosh sound, brightly spinning out of Chisei’s hand and through the air like a helicopter's rotors, before stopping suddenly, firmly grasped in your hand. You draw your claw dagger. “Those words give me Deja vu. You were saying?”

Having lost Onimaru to you, Chisei draws his remaining sword Dojigiri as a deadpool pounced from the top of the tower. Just as it neared reaching him, it cracked in half. Dojigiri had split its body in two and with the sharpness of that sword, the wound took a few seconds to show.

Another Deadpool swooped up from below the observation deck and swung its tail at you. You might not be an expert swordsman but you swing the blade automatically in the manner of a slashing dagger, only this dagger was much longer. The blade cut so easily through the deadpool, like a carving knife cutting a fresh ham, severing through the skin and muscle fibers smoothly, the bones cracking in pathetic resistance. You’d never felt anything cut through dragon tissue like that. Your eyes sharpen and widen with the thrill of killing! You swing again and the head goes flying off!

“Leave these to me! You go back to the elevator!” You call, your voice filled with a mocking sort of laughter. Your hair is flying in the rain as you run off to confront your next victim who slashes at you and collides with the sword blade. You roll and parry and sidestep, dancing with each opponent until you find an opening and then you go in with Onimaru, stabbing through and cutting out, leaving grievous wounds with it. The long sword forced a bit more distance from your opponents than you were used to, so your claw dagger served more as a parry weapon, than your main killing blow, punishing those who dared reach inside the hitbox of Onimaru to get at you with a lost finger or a cut wrist.

You dance back into the observation room to join the others. Sakura and Bondarev were gathering what little weapons were strewn across the floor.

“The elevator isn’t on the floor any more!” Bondarev shouts. “I do not know who is summoning the elevator below but they took our weapons!”

You turned toward the voice briefly, but had to turn back to fend off another attacker. Every instinct told you that was BS. There was no one else here unless Caesar and Zihang were coming up too. Bondarev was a military man and a strategist, not some old coot in a sweater waiting to retire. You still remember him on skis, his sleeveless shirt showing immaculate physique while he stood in minus 3 degree weather with a wind chill of minus thirty-three. LIke some Siberian Heracles. And now he had taken dragon blood to bolster his aging strength, not to mention give himself a significant healing factor.

He was delaying for some reason. Was he still trying to kill you? It would be wise to assume so. You’re not getting on the elevator. You got a very bad feeling that Bondarev was not going to let you leave this tower alive.

Chisei Gen also retreated into the room and swung his long sword clean, throwing away the black blood on it. The three of them regrouped, Sakura holding a sword with both hands, Bondarev holding the blunt end of a two-meter-long European lance, the tip of which resembles a crescent moon.

"Come on!” Chisei beckons to you. “Crow and Yasha, they will think of something."

You see the shock and dismay in his eyes when you back away and shake your head.

He tries again. “MC! We need to put aside our differences right now!”

“Some things cannot be put aside I’m afraid.” Bondarev sighs sadly. “I killed her best friend in Black Swan Bay. She was young. Barely a woman. I have no right to ask her to fight by my side.”

You sneer at his performance. Then you rudely and sharply cut through his bluster with facts. “If I get on that elevator, he’s going to kill me. The same way he killed her. He won’t kill you. At least… not directly. He’ll manipulate you into dying, giving up your life by choice. That’s how it works… right Bondarev?” You look at him directly. “How can a master spy like you not know your precious asset would be here to save you?”

A very dark shadow obscures your face and when you look up, the sky above the glass ceiling is seething with deadpool. The deadpool let out a shrill whistle and swoop down as if the black mountain of clouds hanging overhead had collapsed.They smash that glass ceiling all at once and come flying in, their jagged bone wings snapping violently open. 

You roll and flee the group waiting for the elevator, putting as many deadpool as you can between yourself and Bondarev. Z’s words to you ring in your ears. He said, ‘your ride will be here shortly’, right before Fingel came crashing out of the sky. He wasn’t referring to leaving with Fingel, he meant your alternate way out that was waiting for you, waiting for this moment. The rope that dangled from the Tokyo Tower saved Fingel from death. And it would save you too.

In the distance came the sound of a bell tolling twelve o'clock at midnight. The sound of the bells are unusually cold to the ears, and Tokyo seemed to be transformed into a ghostly medieval city in this rainstorm, with the bronze bells on the churches roaring and the devils laughing wildly in the shadows.

The deadpool creatures no longer have hands. Judging by the puckered scars at the joints, they appear removed by some kind of surgery, replaced with curved metal serrated scimitars granting them a long reach but no grappling ability except for their prehensile tails. So long as you target their wings, they wouldn’t be able to climb back up the tower very easily. That fearlessness that moved Chime Gen to praise you in front of your peers takes hold of you again.

The beasts chase you like seagulls, creeling, getting in each other's way and bunching up. You slide like a baseball player under a canopy of razor sharp blades and jump up behind one, slamming Onimaru into its back and dangling from the hilt to cut the wings off the other beasts. You brace yourself on it, like riding a rodeo show horse. The monster beneath your feet heaved and rolled, howling in pain but was more occupied with defending itself from being overwhelmed by its own brethren than attacking you.

You were eye to eye with them in mid air, using the deadpool dagger to cut into their wings, tearing the membranes. You stab into the space between the joints and the biomechanical working of the muscles is so strong, it nearly wrenches your dagger from your hands. The deadpool creatures with damaged wings start to fall from the sky, unable to keep up their flight but they still have the strength to glide back onto the platform.

You twist the sword and leap back onto the platform to regroup. One beast rears up to battle but then its head snaps back to the sound of a distant rifle. You dash in to slit its throat. You grin! Somewhere on the roof of a far building, Mingfei was still there with his sniper rifle! You calculate in your head. You know he was shooting before. You make a conservative estimate for his ammunition and assume he still has your rifle and ammunition as a back up.

This was good news because reinforcements were arriving on the Deadpool side. More of them are climbing up over the railing, their scales shimmering. In addition to the dragon-like Deadpool, there are more of those snake-like Deadpool from Genji Heavy Industries, and they are all converging on the observation deck. 

The demon hordes of Herzog and Bondarev had amassed against you.

A buffeting downdraft came from above. Huge black shadows descended from the sky. The support from Crow and Yasha in the form of helicopters finally arrived. The elite of the Executive Board of Japan stood on the landing gear and fired. Intense firepower pinned down the group of Deadpool.  The helicopter’s heavy rapid-fire machine gun poured out a rain of bullets without a care in the world -- or a care for you for that matter! You’re forced to take cover from their reckless rain of bullets that could easily kill you as much as they beat back the Deadpool! 

You snarl in your heart, cursing Bondarev again. The helicopter slowly approached the observation deck. The Executive Board's plan was apparently to open the way with a barrage of bullets, allowing their three leaders to jump directly onto the aircraft.

 "Follow me!" Through the broken windows and heaving mass of bodies, you see Chisei bend down and pick up one sword after another. These blades began to spin in midair. He could wield them without touching them! He used these blades to open the way. Deadpool could not approach him when the royal blood was burning.

The Hydra members were inspired by the leader's godlike bravery, and the Gatling machine guns roared even louder as the barrage of bullets drove Deadpool and you to the sides, leaving the way for Gen Chisei and the others, but pushing you farther away from your rope! You wished you had a ballistic weapon in your hand right now so you can shoot Bondarev! He seemed to realize that, like the King, you were betting on an alternative and was forcibly moving you away from your desired position.

Chisei didn’t seem concerned for you any longer. Who knew what that snake whispered in his ear to wipe away your warning words. The helicopter lowered the ladder and approached the observation deck, and the men stopped firing to wave desperately for Chisei to jump up quickly.

A new black shadow shot out of the observation area like an arrow, having taken a mighty leap, and bit the hanging ladder. The men on the landing gear were stunned. They didn't even think that these ferocious beasts had such intelligence. They seemed to be completely suppressed by the rain of bullets, but in fact they were waiting for their chance to attack!

For a bloody meal, these things are happy to trade their lives. A second black shadow swooped out of the tower and latched onto the first one’s tail. The men’s eyes are wide with terror as they shoot at the deadpool who had bitten the hanging ladder. But the battered Deadpool didn't let go. Its mutilated face seemed to be wearing a maniacal grin as more and more of them bit its tail, hooking their bodies upward with their metal blade appendages. One black shadow after another swarms into the cockpit, the men’s guns still roaring, but to no avail. They could not expel those who had come to feed. The helicopter had become their coffin.

Chisei watched in silence as the helicopter moved away from the observation deck, like a wounded eagle going to find a place to heal, but it didn't get very far before it lost its balance and plummeted toward the square.

The helicopter landed in flames.

With no helicopter and the elevator taking its sweet time getting here, Chisei took quick stock in the situation. Bondarev was still limping next to his guardian Chisei, sticking close to him. If anything happened to Chisei, you’re not sure how you would face Chime ever again. But so long as that viper was next to him, your survival couldn’t be guaranteed. So you keep your mouth shut about the rope and keep your distance.

You’d have to find a way to separate those two, not only physically but mentally, but time was ticking. There were too many enemies, not enough weapons. From this high in the air, you couldn’t use your Soul Skill. It was too wet inside and out to use fire. So long as those deadpool were swimming all over this place, there was no way you’d be able to use the rope and escape scot free. You had to beat these things to escape!

You hear a sudden low, melodic snarling.

Chisei recited the long lost language and his Soul Skill, Majesty, was released, expanding slowly, the borders glowing with a faint luminescence. He walked to the center of the special observation deck where his ability could just about cover the whole area. This was Chisei’s coup de grace. While it was overwhelming, he would be as weak as a baby later. But this would be your last chance!

You rush toward the staggering deadpool, a whirling dervish with twin blades. Black blood splashed in fountains and ran like waterfalls off the observation deck. This was no time for finesse or art killing. You fell on them like a mad beast while they could not move. How long did Majesty endure the last time you saw it? Around 30 seconds to a minute? This would be a greater fitness test than anything you had experienced in Black Swan Bay. You had to kill, de-wing or disable dozens of deadpool in 30 seconds.

It was an incomparably bizarre scene. The deadpool were prostrate on the ground, unable to even lift their heads, inert pieces of meat for you to slaughter. The floor tiles cracked and they sank inch by inch into the concrete floor platform.

What world would Renata think of you now? Or even the loving father version of Dr. Herzog that you used to believe existed? You imagined them watching the clock, cheering you on. Vera applauding and whooping, saying you can do it. In your head, these fantasies seem to be extending the time longer than thirty seconds, but you try not to think about it. Every second lost would never return. You had to take every one and kill two or even three deadpool per second and not think about the clock.

Then it was over. A deadpool hissed at you and swiped out one claw. You leap back and sever it at the same time. You look towards Chisei and Chisei looks back at you. He opens his mouth to speak but vomits red. You look around as the deadpool raise their upper bodies even as their lower heavier bodies are still stuck. They’re so insanely ravenous that they pull hard, and in their attempt to drag themselves, pull their own bodies apart! Their naked vertebrae, stripped of flesh, dripping black, gives the scene the new appearance of a zombie apocalypse as they crawl forward, cutting you off from the elevator. But they’re still weak. You can still kill them.

You shake your head at Chisei as he gazes at you from across the gap. It shocked you. He should be concerned about Bondarev. That man had his invisible shackles around his mind, but he hesitated. He wanted to save you. But you knew that the minute you were ‘saved’, you would be in the clutches of Hydra and that was the end.

You would take your chances with the deadpool horde. 

Chisei finally turned back, staggering and near collapse. The deadpool slithered after him, slowed, but still active.  He was still making an effort to support what you felt was a malingering Bondarev when suddenly Bondarev fell to the floor, pulling Chisei to the ground. 

Majesty released further and the beasts were starting to attack closer to full speed! You’re dodging and slashing and Mingfei was still firing to give you back up support, but if Chisei didn’t leave now, he would die. Time was truly up!

You gasp, momentarily torn. If you left the edge of the tower now to go help Chisei get to the elevator, you’d be completely committed to that route with Bondarev. But if you lost Chisei…

Chime’s cry echoed in your mind. Brother!

You chew your lip hard and turn to go back to the Observation deck to help! But as you do you see that someone else is carrying Chisei!

Sakura Yabuki had leaped up and grabbed Chisei’s arms and carried him on her back. She didn’t look that strong but she was. Apparently, she’d tired of his delay and was hauling him like a sack of potatoes to get out.

Now you just needed to secure your own escape. The half bodied deadpool were no match for your twinblades and you laughed at cutting them down like mere chickens. You felt free to expend the last of your energy doing this. Your escape was now guaranteed. You’d run the gauntlet and once again come out the winner!

Surrounded by corpses, you look around. There were no more deadpool coming. You straighten in confusion. Was it something you said?

As one swarm, the deadpool abandoned you to chase something else and your heart twisted in despair and tears sparked from your eyes. You screech in desperate fury! “No! Chisei, you idiot, you didn’t! You didn’t sacrifice yourself for that MAN!” 

You scream at the flying figure above you. The person, however, was not Chisei. It was Sakura! Using a ballistic grapple hook like Batman, she was soaring over the top to the observation deck through the broken windows!

You stomped your foot in a fury! That Bondarev siren song of suicide! What was she thinking? Did Sakura not think you might have a way out? Did she figure that you were giving Chisei a way out by killing yourself? You weren’t like everyone else in the Japan Branch! You didn’t give your life away like them!

Sakura didn’t deserve to be used as food for Bondarev! 

Sakura was climbing to the top of the central spire of the Tokyo tower, the huge radio tower on top of the observation deck, while being pursued by every deadpool in the tower. Just like in the elevator shaft, they ignored you completely, sweeping by and slithering and trailing drool. Once they got to the base of the spire they started to kill each other to be the first to climb up while suppressive fire rained down from Sakura’s last remaining gun. 

Lu Mingfei shifted his focus from you to the tower in support of Sakura. You follow her trajectory closely the way she climbed, the way she was lining herself up with you on the top of the tower. She was lining herself up close to you. 

You feel a slight shiver and your eyes widen. She really did believe in you. She believed you had an alternate way out!

She’s now standing up at the top of the radio tower and bows deeply in thanks to Mingfei for his support. 

She was going to jump and that whole horde was going to follow her down into the void. Your heart is beating. A spotlight was on you. You had only one chance at this. You slip Onimaru into your belt. You climb the safety railing as she takes her leap of faith, a wave of black scaly bodies falling in a beautiful, horrible arc. 

You throw yourself off too.

At the critical moment, your bodies align and your eyes meet. You sweep up with your claw dagger. The hooked claw rends the bloody fabric that the deadpool found so irresistible. Then you wrap that arm around her slender waist  and reach out for the rope you knew was there, the rope that had saved Fingel not too long ago from the same fate. 

The sudden stop pulls your shoulder out of its socket and your arm nearly releases but by then, Sakura has recovered her senses and grabs hold of you before you can fall, clinging to the rope herself.

The tattered wet and bloody clothing continues the rapid descent Sakura should have taken had you not been there. Had you not climbed the steps. Had you not loved Ruri Kazama enough to obey his words and not Caesar’s.

The deadpool continued their fall after the clothing and you could hear the disgusting continuous splatter of their bodies slamming into the concrete and bursting apart in an ebony fountain.

Sakura Yabuki supports you and helps you cling to the rope. She’s completely topless and her body is warm against yours in the cold rain.

“I have to ask you, because I don’t understand. Why save me? Chisei killed the man you loved. It would have been easy to let me fall. Let me die. To let Chisei feel the pain you felt that night. Some would even call it justice.” She gasped out the words. 

You’re both shivering and out of breath.

You stare at her with frigid eyes. “I don’t know what justice is, first of all.” You snap, angry and desperate, your emotions swirling in a hurricane in your mind. “And second of all, I didn’t save you because of Chisei.” Your eyes sparkle in the dark with unshed tears. “Third of all, I’m sure he is feeling what I felt that night, because he thinks you’re dead right now. But unlike Chance, you will come back!”

Sakura Yabuki sobered. She didn’t know you, but you had the feeling she was listening closely and understanding.

So you continue, each sentence a shouted exclamation above the rain’s metallic rhythm on the tower struts. “I didn’t come here with morals or life lessons that teach me mercy. I’m no better than he is.  I was raised by Dr. Herzog for God’s sake! Chisei Gen was raised by that child-murderer Bondarev! We both kill first and ask questions later. Our father figures just tried to rip each other’s throats out! It shouldn’t surprise anyone that we’re going to hurt each other, so don’t think I care for him! The only true difference between us, in truth?” You pause, your eyes wide.  “I just hang out with better people! Caesar, Chu Zihang, Lu Mingfei, and Ruri Kazama. They’re my world. I will do things that will please them. So I look better. But I’m not better!”

Your voice lowers to a dull snarl in her ears. “I could have just walked away, easily! I could be eating a warm bowl of ramen noodles, right now!” Your snarl turned to a soft bitter laughter. “But Chime… Chime would never have forgiven me if something happened to his brother because I did that. I could have let you fall. But Chance is gone. I might have another chance… at love. That is.” You again crack a brief joke. “But Chime wouldn’t want me to hurt his brother by letting you die.” 

Your laughter takes hold of you, but it’s painful. It was just a way to stop from crying. “I’m only here because of my boyfriend. You heard that right. It’s so stupid.” You shove Onimaru back into her hands. “Here, take his dumb sword back. I don’t want it.”

Sakura looked down at you and a small smile graced her features. “Fair. Still, I must thank you. Farewell. Until we meet again.” Sakura Yabuki slid down the rope, speeding down the rest of the way down from Tokyo Tower. You see her land and she’s gone in the blink of an eye. 

[datheetjoella]

Fantober 2020, Day 22: Demon/Angel

Author: DatHeetJoella Fandom: Free! Pairing: MakoHaru Rating: T Part: 22/31 (read the full collection here) Word count: 1,612 Tags: Canonverse, Established Relationship, Fluff, Filters, References to Sexual Content Read at: AO3, FFn, or right here!

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

Fresh out of the bath, Haruka walked back into the room. Makoto was sitting on the bed with his back against the wall, engrossed in his phone.

"The bath's free," Haruka said, but Makoto didn't respond. Instead, he opened his mouth slowly, not saying a word, then he chuckled under his breath. With a frown, Haruka went over to him and asked, "What are you doing?"

"Oh, Haru!" Makoto said as though he hadn't even noticed he was here. He patted the mattress next to him. "Come sit. I want to show you something."

Haruka plopped down beside him and scooted over until their thighs touched. When he peered onto Makoto's screen, he frowned. The front-facing camera was open and he stared back at his own face. He didn't quite understand what was so remarkable about this. "What?"

"Now open your mouth slowly."

Another incredulous look was sent Makoto's way, but Haruka did as he was told and let his jaw slacken. Instantly, a rainbow waterfall cascaded from his mouth while his eyes grew big and his cheeks were tinged pink. The furrow between Haruka's eyebrows deepened. "What is this?"

Although they'd had their smartphones for almost half a year, Haruka still didn't understand all the functions it had. There were only a handful of things he used and the camera was one of them, but he had never seen this before.

"It's an app that puts filters over your face so you can take pictures or videos with it," Makoto explained, "You know my friend, Hayami-chan, who posts a lot of sparkly selfies on social media? She was taking some earlier when we were studying, so I asked her how she gets those effects on her pictures and she showed me this app. I've been playing with the filters while you were in the bath and some of them are pretty funny. Here, look."

Makoto swiped through the little images at the bottom and selected another filter. Dog ears and a nose adorned his and when he opened his mouth again, a tongue appeared on the screen. Haruka still thought it was a bit silly, but this one was kind of cute. Not that he would ever admit that.

"And look, it stays on your face even as you move around."

"This one suits you," Haruka said, biting his bottom lip to suppress a smile, "Nagisa was right after all."

"About what?"

"That you're like a golden retriever."

"In that case, this one is perfect for you." Makoto tapped on the search bar and typed something. When he pointed the phone back at Haruka, his whole face was replaced by a cat one that was, unlike Makoto's cartoon dog features, incredibly realistic. The stripes of fur moved along with his expression and the eyes blinked when he did.

"Now this is just terrifying," Haruka said with a snort.

"I quite like it," Makoto said with a cheeky grin. "It's cute. My two loves combined into one."

That made Haruka seriously question both Makoto's taste and his sanity. "How is this amalgamation anything but creepy? This is actual nightmare fuel."

"If you hate it that much, I'll pick out another one for you," Makoto said, "How about this one, a flower crown? Oh, or this one, a halo with angel wings. These are nice, right?"

They were better than the cat filter, but that didn't say much. While Haruka didn't see the fun in it, Makoto seemed to be enjoying himself. As long as he was happy, Haruka would gladly play along. "Do they have an Iwatobi-chan filter?"

A cheerful laugh left Makoto's lips. "I don't think so. You'd have to be the one to create it if you want one."

"Too much effort," Haruka said with a shake of his head. "What about a mermaid filter?"

"Hm, I'm not sure," Makoto mumbled as he thumbed through the options. "I would say no because most of these are aimed to use on your face, not your whole body. I'll ask Hayami-chan about it the next time I see her."

Haruka nodded, then he reached onto the screen. "What's this?" he asked; the preview picture was too small for him to make out what kind of filter it was.

"It's the devil filter," Makoto said as he pressed onto the image. As expected, two red horns popped up between his brown locks. "When Hayami-chan was showing me earlier, my friends said this one suits me."

The crease between Haruka's thin eyebrows returned at that. "How so?"

"They said I look and act so sweet that I must be hiding a secret, demonic side and that the filter is a reflection of my true nature," Makoto said in a spooky tone, but he ended it with a giggle that broke the spell.

Haruka had to summon every bit of self-restraint not to scoff at that. If there was any filter that reflected Makoto's true nature - besides the dog face - it was the angel one. "That's ridiculous. Your friends clearly don't know you as well as they think."

"What, you don't think I have a darker side to me?"

"No?" Haruka said, confused as to why Makoto sounded offended when he was defending him. "You couldn't even pretend to be evil when we were making the swim club recruitment film."

"It wasn't that I couldn't pretend to be evil, I was just nervous about acting in general," Makoto said, discarding his phone on the duvet, "Besides, Shizuru-kun thought my evil king was convincing."

"And he was the only person who thought that," Haruka said, "Makoto, you were crying this morning while watching a cat video. Does that sound like something a person with a dark side would do?"

"But it was so sad and cute!" Makoto said, "At first, it seemed like the kitten wasn't going to make it, but everyone took such good care of her that she made a full recovery. Isn't that heartwarming?"

The tears that welled up as Makoto recalled it did not support his case. "I'm pretty sure my point stands."

"I can be devilish," Makoto insisted as he crossed his arms, "Want me to show you?"

"Sure," Haruka said, curious to see what Makoto would come up with to prove himself. "Show me all you've got."

Before Haruka could as much as blink, he found himself pinned to the mattress by his wrists, arms raised over his head. His jaw plunged in surprise as Makoto hovered over him, a sly smirk wickifying his features, but he didn't want to admit defeat just yet. So he shot Makoto a challenging look back.

Makoto's expression didn't shift as he moved one hand from Haruka's wrists to his belly and, without a second of hesitation, started to tickle him. This was a low blow, but Haruka wouldn't give in that easily. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing and stared right back into Makoto's eyes.

Alas, this was a battle Haruka was doomed to lose, for Makoto knew all his most ticklish spots. After a solid minute of tensing his abs, he couldn't hold back any longer. Loud laughter erupted from his stomach and he kicked his legs.

"Stop! Makoto!" he managed to get out between fits of giggles, desperately trying to break free. "Stop!"

As nefarious as he was, Makoto quit the instant Haruka told him to. With a self-satisfied grin, he sat back. "Well, how was that?"

"This does not count," Haruka said when he caught his breath. "This is teasing at best, not devilish. People tickle each other all the time but that doesn't mean they have a dark side."

"Oh, so you want something of a higher caliber?" Makoto said, scratching his chin as if in deep thought. He leaned over Haruka again, reclaimed his hold on his wrists and lowered his face next to Haruka's left ear. In a low, husky voice he murmured, "You want to see my true, sinful nature?"

The words in combination with his hot breath fanning against his ear shell and neck sent goosebumps down Haruka's spine, spreading tingles across his body. Now this was the type of sinful he could get behind. "As sinful as can be."

Makoto didn't need to be told twice. He stroked his fingertips lightly over the inside of Haruka's bare arms, down his torso to his thighs. Then, he spread Haruka's legs and lined up their hips, his face inches removed from Haruka's.

Haruka's heart pounded faster and faster with anticipation as Makoto's hands played with the hem of his pyjama pants. Makoto's nose brushed against his, their lips only a whisper apart. All the while Makoto didn't break their eye-contact and a look that was more than familiar to Haruka shone in his hooded green irises.

Just when their lips were about to connect in a passionate kiss, Makoto was gone.

Confused, Haruka pushed himself up on his elbows and watched as Makoto leisurely strolled to the bathroom. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to shower. I'll be taking a while, so you don't have to wait up for me and can go to sleep first. Good night."

With that, he shut the door behind him.

This had to be a joke. He couldn't leave Haruka here like this. Surely whatever he had in mind before was much more fun than taking a shower.

Haruka waited for Makoto to come back, but when he heard the faint sound of dripping water, he realised what had happened.

With a loud, frustrated groan, Haruka grabbed a pillow and slapped it over his face.

Perhaps Makoto's friends knew him pretty well after all.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 2: Accept The Fucking Offer]

Series summary: You are an overwhelmed and disenchanted nurse in Boston, Massachusetts. Queen is an eccentric British rock band you’ve never heard of. But once your fates intertwine in the summer of 1974, none of your lives will ever be the same...

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing) HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @loveandbeloved29​ @killer-queen-xo​ @maggieroseevans​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @joemazzmatazz​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @namelesslosers​ @inthegardensofourminds​ @deacyblues​ @youngpastafanmug​

The floor is quiet. Your patients—all except one—are sound asleep and mercifully keeping their call buttons at a distance. Patricia is camped out in the nurses’ station at the other end of the hall, chomping noisily on sunflower seeds and wailing along to Tammy Wynette on her portable radio. Queen is enjoying their fourth late-night picnic of the week. You close the door and check your watch; you have seven minutes left before your break ends.

“Let’s kill her,” Freddie suggests casually, hanging his smoldering cigarette out of the open window.

“You know that’s extremely bad for you.”

“What? Committing felonies?”

“I don’t think you’d do well in prison, Fred,” Roger says, popping a Cheeto into his mouth. “No sequined leotards. No cats.”

“Smoking,” you correct. “Smoking is extremely bad for you.”

Freddie takes a drag, exhales a fog of smoke, and grins at you beneath gleaming sunglasses. “Possibly. But darling, the aesthetic is divine. And you’ll take care of me if I get sick, won’t you? Ensure I get all the best drugs, procure new lungs for me on the black market?”

Brian rolls his eyes and nibbles a violet plum, then gestures for John to pass him a napkin as juice dribbles down his stubbled chin. John flaps the napkin just outside of Brian’s reach, yanking it away each time Brian swipes. Roger snickers, observing their exchange from his place on the floor, before eventually advising John to have mercy. Brian snatches the napkin and promptly whips John across the face with it.

“So now you have me committing felonies,” you tell Freddie with a smile.

“Keeps things spicy.” Freddie peers over at you, brow crinkled, studying you like an abstract painting. “Do you like your job, dear?”

Brian groans. “Fred, please, don’t interrogate her—”

“I’m not interrogating, I’m inquiring—!”

“It’s fine, seriously, Bri, it’s fine,” you say. Brian raises his hands in surrender. His coloring has improved, he’s gained five pounds, he’s being discharged tomorrow. Then Queen will be whisked across the Atlantic back to London...and that’s a truth you’re struggling to grasp. “I love what I do. Just not necessarily where I do it.”

Freddie nods, puffing on his cigarette. “Because of Nurse Queen of the Underworld.”

“Not just her.” You can remember being a child and worshiping at the altar of familiarity: your home, that old maroon Queen Anne-style house at the intersection of Apple Avenue and Arcadia Street; inhaling New England autumns; burying yourself in your mother’s soft, cream-colored knit sweaters that were dusted with the scents of homemade pies and Chanel No. 5; the creaks of that uneven, tobacco-stained wood floor of your father’s study beneath your bare feet. Whatever existed outside of your comfortable, commonplace universe—whatever monsters or treasures or undiscovered ringed planets dwelled there—held no interest for you at all. You wanted to live here, die here, raise your own family here, take your children to play under the same weeping willows in the Public Green that your grandparents had met beneath. And then one day, in the purging heat of the summer after your sophomore year of college...you woke up and realized that all those comforting things suddenly felt like a cage, that your fingers were threading bars made of your family and your friends and every grain of soil in Boston. Patricia is dreadful, of course, and has been since you arrived at Massachusetts General nine months ago; but she’s not what you’re running from. “It’s this hospital, it’s this city, it’s Boston. I was born here and I cherish it, don’t get me wrong, but I want to see the world. Mountains and lakes and cathedrals and castles and...and...you know. All the rest.”

“That’s how I felt about Cornwall when I was a kid,” Roger confesses. “I’d take my little acoustic guitar out into the backyard and look up at the sky as I played and think, ‘Is this really it? Am I ever going to get beyond all this to something more?’”

“Yes, yes, well no one asked for your autobiography, blondie,” Freddie quips. Roger chuckles, entirely unoffended. “Continue, dear.”

You think before you respond. When you do speak, it comes out heavier than you mean it to, more serious, more pained, whispered, your voice splintering. “I guess I just don’t want to die without really living first.”

The boys watch you for a while: Brian poised and pondering, Freddie seeking, Roger empathetic, John very quiet. John has spoken—at the absolute most—five words to you since you’ve met him; but you know he can get chatty with Freddie or Rog on occasion, and so you’ve held out hope that you can still win him over. Now you’re almost out of time.

At last, Roger raises his beer, smiling, showing the tiny points of his canine teeth. “Cheers to that.” And it sends something through you like a one-way ticket into a brand new world.

You laugh nervously. “Okay. Wow. Enough of all that, I have to go save lives now.” You wash your hands in the sink and pull on a new pair of gloves, dodging Roger’s large, affecting eyes.

“Do you have a boyfriend, lovely Clara Barton?” Freddie asks. They know your actual name, they’ve known it since night one, but they’ve taken to referring to you as whatever famous nurses they can recall from high school.

“Freddie,” Brian admonishes.

“What, I’m just asking—”

“No, actually, I don’t,” you tell Fred. “Why, do you want a Green Card?”

“Darling, no offense, but if I was going to marry for strategic purposes I would aim for someone far older and astronomically richer. With life insurance.”

“Thanks, Freddie.”

“You’re quite welcome.”

“Are you single? Since we’re all sharing our life stories.”

“I’m not,” he replies, somewhat cagily. “None of us are. Well, Brian certainly isn’t, and Deaky wasn’t last I checked, although he’s tricksy and awfully quiet about the whole affair, so I ought to confirm that at some point...how about you, Rog?”

Roger chokes on his beer and wipes his dripping nose with one fuchsia sleeve. “Uh, I, uh, yeah, yeah, uh, I’m single. Yes.”

“Oh?” Brian says, eyebrows raised. “Someone should probably inform Josephine.”

“That’s a casual thing. Super casual. Not exclusive.”

Freddie and Brian exchange a glance: an amused, smirking, what else can you expect from Roger? glance. You try to smirk at Roger too; but he shrugs guiltily, endearingly, with some mesmerizing spell of danger and innocence and wildness and beauty, angels and demons that you didn’t know could coexist without clubbing each other to death. And you mean to file this away as a warning, a reminder to keep your distance; but it feels more like blowing on embers until they leap into flames.

Bad idea, lady. Really, really, really, exorbitantly bad idea.

“Alright, I’m out. Brian, you have the call button if you need it. There’re extra cups and napkins in the cabinet and—”

You open the door. Patricia is halfway down the hallway and approaching quickly, glinting-eyed, stone-faced, keys grasped in her hand. A glimpse at your watch informs you that your break ended two minutes ago. You swing the door shut.

“Get out!” you whisper urgently, and Roger bolts for the window. He pitches his beer outside and helps John climb through the opening and drop safely to the ground below.

“Fred!” Roger hisses, waving, and he lowers Freddie out of the window next as you kick snack wrappers and empty bottles beneath Brian’s hospital bed. Bri smooths his blankets, turns off his lamp, shakes the peanuts out of his hair that John lobbed there. You rush to Roger as you hear keys rattling against the door.

“Here, I’ll help you...” Without thinking, you take his hands as he hesitates in the open window and steady him as he crawls out. You can see Freddie and John down in the darkness, reaching up to catch Roger when he falls. A sudden wave of mourning grips you. I’m never going to see them again. “Bye,” you say, without any cleverness at all. But Roger smiles like it’s the best thing he’s heard in weeks, maybe months, maybe ever. He glances to where your hands hold his.

“Bye,” he replies in that raspy, radiant voice. And then he’s gone.

You sigh shakily. You turn around. Patricia stands in the open doorway.

“Oh,” she says, grinning like a shark, almost gloating. “You are so fired.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“We’re sorry, we’re so sorry, you have no idea how—”

“It’s fine, Roger.”

You’re standing under a lamppost just beyond hospital property at 7:15 a.m. Your shift is over, your very last shift at Massachusetts General; Roger waited outside to meet you all night. There are swollen shadows beneath his eyes, his cheeks are flushed with fury and mortification, he’s edgy and pacing and chain smoking. The sun is bright and already hot, the Arctic terns cawing and swooping overhead.

“It’s not fucking fine,” he flares. “We got you fired—”

“Roger, I was miserable there. I was jaded and complacent and I felt trapped, I felt like I was standing in cement, I felt like I was suffocating and I didn’t know how to bail myself out of it or how to explain any of this to my parents. But now...thanks to Queen...I’m free. I got the shock I needed. I can move on.”

“You didn’t deserve to leave like that,” he insists menacingly. “That bitch isn’t going to write you recommendations. You were good at what you did, you were really fucking good, Brian was despondent before you took over. You deserved better.”

You shrug. “Life’s not fair, Rog.”

“That’s the truth.” He takes a drag off his cigarette and you hold out your hand. He stares at you, perplexed, but passes the cigarette. You smoke a few puffs, then give it back. Roger smiles. “I thought that was extremely bad for you.”

“Most of the best things are.”

“Well.” He shuffles his feet anxiously. “I have a proposition.”

“Yeah?”

“Since you’ve successfully untethered yourself from all your unfulfilling earthly obligations...come to London with us.”

You feel your jaw fall open, feel all the tension in your muscles unravel as the numb shock rolls through you. “Uh. I was thinking maybe the Peace Corps or joining a travel nursing agency or something.”

Roger winks and nudges your shoulder with his. “Transatlantic flights to London count as travel.”

“That’s...accurate...”

“No, seriously!” Rog presses. “Look, every time a band tours, the company hires a medic or a nurse to go with them. They stitch up busted faces, sanitize infected tattoos, prevent us from dying of alcohol poisoning, ice knocked-out teeth until we can get to a dentist, the works. We’re going to be recording as much as possible in London, but Brian will be on bed rest for most of the next few months. You can take care of him. Keep his spirits up. You’re good at that. We’ll all chip in to pay you if the company won’t, Freddie and John have already agreed to it and I know Brian will as soon as I ask. Then, when we inevitably go on tour again...you can be our travel nurse.” He grins confidently, electrifyingly, like he’s figured out all of life’s thorniest questions.

“Rog, I really appreciate the offer, but...uh...this is really too much, and I have no travel nurse experience whatsoever, and...and...look, you are all really talented, I mean that, but you have some seriously chaotic energy and I’m not sure global fame is in the cards for Queen—”

Roger interrupts you brusquely. “You said you love what you do. So you like taking care of people, right?”

“I do, yeah.”

“And you want to see the world.”

“Absolutely.”

“And you think we’re fun, don’t you? Exciting? Audacious? Reckless enough to keep you busy with the fallout of frequent near-death experiences?”

“That sounds about right.”

“So...” He waggles his blond eyebrows. “Come with us.”

You look up into the mid-June sky, as blue and churning as the Boston Harbor, and try to imagine it: packing your suitcase (you really don’t need to bring all that much), digging your passport out of your jewelry box (you know exactly where it is), telling your parents that you’re jetting off to Europe the next day (they would accept it, maybe they’d even be proud; you’d finally be striking out on your own), renting some cheap little apartment in London (you have enough savings to get you started).

“Accept the offer,” Roger says.

“I really don’t think—”

“Accept the offer.”

“—I just couldn’t impose like that, I mean you’re not making any money yet and—”

“Accept the offer.”

“—You guys shouldn’t feel like you owe me this just because I happened to—”

Roger cradles your face with rough hands, gazes fixedly into your eyes, and smiles blindingly. “Love,” he says. “Accept. The fucking. Offer.”

Bad idea, terrible idea, literally the worst idea in the history of human civilization.

“Okay,” you reply softly.

“Okay, like, for real okay?”

“Yeah.” And entirely against your will, you break into a grin. This is the start of the rest of my life. This is the graveyard of familiarity.

“Yes!” Roger cheers. He takes your left hand, raises it to his lips, bites you lightly across the knuckles: some feral, ludicrously on-brand vision of Roger as a Disney hero. I’m the Lady and he’s the Tramp. I’m Sleeping Beauty and he’s the Prince who’s going to finally wake me up, even if it means slaughtering a dragon or two.

“Cute,” you say sarcastically. But, actually, it sort of is.

“Can I walk you home?” Roger asks. “You live around the corner, right? I can help you pack. Oh, wait, maybe I should shower first, I don’t want your parents to see me like this...I am a literal ashtray...my hair is ridiculous...I think I still have some eyeliner on...is the fuchsia jacket too much...?”

You watch Roger as he scrutinizes himself fretfully, his words fading out of the picture, the world becoming a silent film. You can’t look away. If Brian’s a willow tree and Freddie’s a lightning storm, what is Roger? Wildfire, you decide.

He follows you through breezy, shaded Boston streets to the house at the intersection of Apple and Arcadia, with the solemn promise that he can borrow your shower and an old pair of gym shorts. You know he’ll charm your parents instantly, that they’ll fall in love with him. Everyone does.

When you look down at your left hand, there’s a vanishing silhouette of a bruise where he bit you; and if you really think about it you can feel that it still burns.

[angelsswirl]

Vellichor

The One With Shit and The Fan

A.N. Yall are about to be very mad at me, but it must be read.

~•~

Oh and I know

And you know that we've been here before

I think I know how it should end

We got an audience calling us crazy

You feel like a white suburban mom.

The ones that hoot and howl over every little thing in preparation for company.

You feel like that, because that's exactly what you're doing right now.

Hooting and howling over every little thing in preparation for company.

"If you move a pillow to sit on the couch, what do you do with the pillow when you're done sitting on the couch? YOU PUT THE PILLOW BACK! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU GUYS?!"

You had finally managed to convince Jisoo to agree to a civilized dinner with Taylor's parents. It involved a lot of placating and a lot of sex.

So naturally, you had to make sure the house was spic and span, because you wouldn't be caught dead in a filthy home.

Luckily, your children had pulled their own weight and helped, you were now just doing the finishing touches, like putting throw pillows in their proper place and screwing the cap on the milk jug tighter.

You also made sure to keep an eye on Jisoo just in case she decided to booby trap the place. At this point you wouldnt put it pass her.

Ryland came bouncing into the kitchen excitedly, "What did you make for dinner tonight, mommy? You got my text about the Bae-Park's dietary restrictions right?"

Despite being the second oldest, Ryland still called you 'mommy' occasionally. Especially, when she was excited or wanted something.

"Yes. Suzy and Jackson are allergic to peanuts and Taylor won't eat anything with a face. We'll see how long that lasts because you're a carnivore like your mom. And I passed it along to Lia because she cooked." You fussed around the kitchen. Dusting and swatting at imaginary dust.

"But what if mama convinced Lia to poison Chaeyoung?!"

You rolled your eyes. Did your daughter really think her mother would do something like that? Or better question. Did she really think you would let her mother do something like that?

"Jisoo has been here all day and I have her phone. I talked with Lia about everyone's needs and she made something suitable for everyone. Everything is going to be okay. Calm down, baby."

Ryland pouted, "How do you know if Chaeyoung has any restrictions? I didn't text you about her."

"We dated, remember?"

"No. I wasn't there."

"...Everything is going to be okay. Now, get out of my kitchen and set the dining room table. You might have to bring some more chairs in from the garage."

Ryland nodded.

~•~

Jisoo stared at her wife with a partially unreadable expression on her face.

She had been tricked into this. Bribed, if you will. Maybe even conned.

Sure, she was more or less fine with Taylor dating her daughter, but she wasn't really fine with spending more than an hour in a room with one of the only other people on the planet who knows what her wife looks like naked.

Great.

Her wife looks great naked. And Park Chaeyoung knew that.

She was doing her best to hide her blatant jealousy and anger but Jisoo wasn't an oscar winning actress for a reason.

"Are you getting all primped up for me or for her?" It sort of just slipped out. You had been putting on makeup for the past hour and Jisoo couldn't help but wonder.

You had never rolled your eyes harder in your life, "I'm not about to start this with you."

"You're avoiding the question."

"Because you should know the answer by now."

"For me?"

You put the finishing touches on your dark tinted red lip. Smacking them dramatically, then placing the tube of lipstick back onto the vanity.

You turned toward Jisoo with a smirk, "Oh no. For me."

Jisoo could only watch you walk out the door and into the main living area of the house.

Jisoo would try to keep the snarkiness to a minimum. If only because she's sure if she doesn't she'll never get to see your great nakedness again.

~•~

Dinner, to everyone's surprise, isn't that awkward. Probably due to the fact that Taylor easily dominated the conversation, you're a bit preoccupied with fussing over Kaleb, and Jisoo has had a full glass of red wine.

"Tay tay! How did your parents react to you telling them Ryland was your mate? Did they throw a tantrum like mama did?" Peyton asked, her mischievous smile poorly hidden behind her glass of lemonade.

Sometimes, you think Peyton forgets she still lives with you unlike her older siblings and can most definitely still be grounded. You had to resort to your signature glare, but it did the trick as Peyton slumped into her chair, thoroughly frightened.

Taylor looked confused at the question. Peyton knew the answer. They're literally best friends. She was the first one she told.

"No. Mom just mumbled that it probably made sense and then I went to go play soccer."

Ryland smiled lovingly across the table at Taylor. Lia made a gagging sound.

You thanked whatever being was listening that Peyton's chaos energy hadn't prevailed. If you thought, Ryland was your demon child while you were pregnant with her, you surely hadn't seen anything yet.

"Okay, why don't all of you kids, go do whatever it is you do in the livingroom. Mom doesn't need you to see her scarf down an entire bottle of merlot in one gulp." You mumbled that last part under your breath.

Everyone but Lia left the table, happy to be excused.

You stared at her blankly.

"I'm 22."

You're not exactly sure why but your patience is wearing thin quickly.

"Did I ask how old you were?"

"No, ma'am. Excuse me." She bowed her head dramatically before grabbing Kaleb and scurrying from the table.

"Kids. So....interesting." Chaeyoung said in an attempt to break the silence.

"Yeah. I keep telling myself that my reward for not killing them are future grandchildren. Well, actually. I'm already terrified of whatever Peyton procreates."

Both Chaeyoung and Suzy laugh at your joke.

"So, how'd you two meet?" Jisoo asked inbetween sips of her wine. She wasn't even looking in Chaeyoung and Suzy's direction, if only because it was sort of hard to peer around you in their positions.

You tried to listen for answers, you really did, but your reasoning for the irritability comes to light. You're sweating and almost slumped over into Jisoo, but you somehow managed to keep yourself upright.

Jisoo and Chaeyoung's eyes snapped to you at the same time. And the last time you felt this much dread, was when you found out that Jisoo and Chaeyoung found out about each other.

It's almost like you see Chaeyoung's mouth move in slow motion. You will her not to say anything, just let you silently excuse yourself from the table and take your suppressants, but no. Things were never easy when it came to Chaeyoung and Jisoo.

Chaeyoung offhandedly mumbled "That's familiar." She doesn't really mean anything by it. You knew that, hell even Suzy knew that.

But you can see the glass in Jisoo's hand start to shake.

"What did you just say?"

"Huh? Oh nothing. I didn't mean anything by it, Jisoo. I swear."

"Chu...let it go." You do your best to calm her down with a light touch to her thigh.

"It's no big deal. It was stupid I shouldn't have said it."

"You fucking my wife isn't a big deal?"

"Jisoo! What the hell?" You stared at your alpha who seemed to be looking right through you to Chaeyoung. The pent up anger in her eyes was quite astonishing.

"What's your problem, Jisoo? It's been years and the only one who still fucking cares is you." Chaeyoung said with a shake of her head.

"My problem is you."

Chaeyoung rolled her eyes, "I'm married with two beautiful kids. I don't want y/n and she doesn't want me. Grow up."

Chaeyoung gathered her belongings and gestured for her wife to follow her. Suzy did so reluctantly, she shot a glance of sympathy toward you but otherwise didn't say anything.

The family left, two confused children in tow.

You swallowed harshly, it was surprisingly easy to fight off your heat instincts considering you wanted very little to do with the person that's supposed to help you through that.

"Well. Congratulations."

Jisoo's brows furrowed, not in the least bit surprised when you dont elaborate.

You got up from the table without a word. You headed to the livingroom and poked your head in, "Peyton, do you mind cleaning up the table. You don't have to do the dishes, just put them in the sink. Thank you." Abigail and Ryland stared after you.

Peyton set about doing the task without any fan fare.

You then hurried into your bedroom. Wiping at your eyes and your makeup.

You knew Jisoo had followed you. Probably wanting an explanation about what you said.

"Why can't you just let it go? It's been twenty years. You said you were over it, but every time you're even slightly reminded you blow up. You know how sorry I am but it feels like I'm still being punished."

"You slept with her. You're mine and you slept with her." Jisoo looked at you like she didn't understand how you didn't get that.

"I'm yours now. I wasn't back then. Even if you imprinted on me I wasn't your mate. I wasn't even your girlfriend. I didn't cheat on you. Why does everything I did have to be some slight against you?"

Jisoo huffed, "You knew I loved you. You led me on you made me think that it was only me. That you were only going to choose me."

"What did I ever say to make you think that? Was marrying you not enough? Is being your mate not enough? Those three beautiful babies not enough?"

"We have four kids."

"Oh, hop off it. You know that's not what I meant."

Jisoo doesn't say anything further. She only stares at some point passed your head.

"Am I not enough for you, Jisoo? Because I don't know what else I can give you. I gave you my life, my love, my womb. But it's still not enough for you. What else do you want from me?!" You tried not to raise your voice too much, but it was sort of a hard feat to accomplish around your tears.

"To go back in time and not sleep with her. To say she never meant anything to you."

"Oh. You want the impossible." You nodded slowly, not agreeing in the slightest. But you got it now.

"Say it."

"You know I can't."

"Say it, y/n."

"We told each other that we would never lie to each other, and I'll be damned if I start now."

"...Then tell me to leave."

"Jisoo."

"I need to go, but I can't do it unless you tell me to."

You choked on a sob, "Fine. Go. Just know, if you walk out of that front door everything that I have said tonight, will be proven right."

That got Jisoo to hesitate. To rethink breifly. But the alpha is telling her to go before she does something she really regrets. So, she leaves. And the pain that encompasses her heart is nothing like she had ever felt in her life.

You heard the door slam shut and with it, Peyton walked into the room. You pretend that you dont see the tears in each other's eyes, "Mommy?" Her omega is calling out to yours, probably more than she realized.

She's technically a pup and she needs comfort, so even though you felt like curling up into a ball and dying you give it to her.

She practically falls into your lap and she sniffled. Your and Jisoo's bond isn't broken by any means, but even the children can tell there's something not quite right.

"I didn't mean for you to hear that, baby girl."

"Are you two going to be okay? I've never seen mama that mad before."

And that question coming from her daughter seemed to hurt the most, "I hope so, Pey. I hope so."

[judgmentofcorruption]

Episode 10–The Court Ends; Scene 7

Judgment of Corruption, pages 303-316

It was thought that the revolts would quickly be suppressed by the release of the military.

But on the contrary, it was here that something unexpected occurred for the government. A portion of USE allied forces that they deployed defected to the side of the militia.

The former soldier Gammon likely laid the groundwork for that in advance.

Due to this, the fight spread to one of much larger scale, until what had at first been a simple uprising began to take on the look of a full-fledged civil war.

On August 10th, the Dark Star Bureau was attacked by the militia.

The allied forces and the soldiers of PN put up a fight, but they were at a loss against the militia’s strength of numbers, and in just eighteen hours the Dark Star Bureau fell into the militia’s hands.

The next day, reports surfaced that the chief of PN, Bruno Zero, had been captured by the militia.

.

Gallerian had somehow managed to escape from the militia’s clutches, and slipped out of the bureau.

He used a secret passageway hidden in the back of his fireplace—a device that had been used for the princess to escape from the palace in the “Daughter of Evil” story. The same thing had been put in the Dark Star Bureau.

While avoiding the public eye, Gallerian headed for his estate.

He was sure he had at least some final strength left to him for battle.

“Eater! Where are you!?”

Gallerian cried out the name of the one who controlled his dead soldiers—the “dead god”.

But there was no reply.

He couldn’t find that large frame anywhere in either the house or the gardens.

“…Maybe he ran away.”

The other dead god Lich must have still been with Ma in “Evils Theater” in Elphegort.    

--Gallerian no longer had anyone left here he could count on as an ally.

He was the militia’s target. He had provoked too greatly the people’s animosity with his many corrupted judgments.

Gallerian knew that it would be dangerous to stay in his own home. He outfitted himself appropriately and then immediately moved to leave the mansion.

But once he saw what was outside his window, he halted.

“…I’m already surrounded…It’s too late.”

At that moment, running out there would be fatal. He turned on his heel and returned to the study, sitting down in his favorite chair.

And then, though I don’t know why, he switched on the radio that was sitting on his desk.

“—Breaking news. The corpse of Major General Tony Ausdin of the USE allied forces was recently discovered in the garden of his home. There were several wounds on his body, but the one thought to be the killing blow is a .44 calibre revolver bullet that was fired into his temple. General Tony was declared innocent in a trial held—”

After listening that far, he shut off the radio.

Then he noticed a smoking pipe that had been left next to the radio.

Something Ma had forgotten.

Gallerian picked it up and lit it.

Right after he put it to his mouth and sucked in the smoke,

“Cough”

He vigorously started hacking, and immediately set the pipe back down on the desk, putting it out.

“…Not my thing.”

He stood and this time passed his eyes over the bookcase next to him.

His eyes rested on the third shelf, whereon seven thin volumes that looked hand-written were lined up.

Other things Ma had forgotten.

The titles to each were written in small print on the spines.

.

The Lunacy of Duke Venomania

Evil Food Eater Conchita

The Daughter of Evil

Gift from the Princess Who Brought Sleep

The Tailor of Enbizaka

.

The remaining two works didn’t have titles written on them.

These were screenplays that were based on tales Ma had gathered on the seven Vessels of Deadly Sin.

“The Vessels of Deadly Sin…I’d been so close. I was—almost about to save Michelle.”

He took one of the screenplays in hand.

Then he sat back down in his chair.

“Michelle…Papa wasn’t able to save you. But at the very least, you must keep living. Where no one can find you, in that theater in the forest—”

After murmuring that, Gallerian leisurely opened the book and started to read.

.

The Dark Star Bureau had already fallen.

He no longer had any friends or colleagues.

The money that he had saved up was now worthless to him.

Having lost everything, this isolated man waited in his mansion for that moment.

As he read.

That moment when the enraged militiamen would break into his home.

.

“…They haven’t come in.”

Gallerian closed the book and put it on his desk.

He stood and then peered out his study window.

Just like before, the militia soldiers were surrounding the mansion.

“Why haven’t they advanced?”

There was no one in the mansion anymore to answer his question.

--Or at least, they shouldn’t have been.

“They’re waiting.”

Gallerian turned around in surprise at the voice he heard behind him.

Standing there—was a blue-haired man who looked similar to…or rather, exactly like Gallerian.

“They’re waiting for her to arrive. The person who would be most appropriate for killing you.”

“Who…are you?”

They were two Gallerians, facing each other.

“Who am I? What cruel words. Don’t you know this face better than anyone?”

“Ah…You are me. …No, that’s ridiculous. I can’t be standing in front of myself—”

“But it’s the truth. I am you, and you are me.”

The other Gallerian laughed mockingly.

--But I knew, watching from the side.

It was a terrible joke. He…though he may be identical in form—

He was not Gallerian.

Gallerian himself appeared to realize this.

“I see, you—are ‘Adam’. The being in the spoon.” So saying, Gallerian pulled out the spoon that he always kept on his person. “It was through contracting with you that I became able to speak to Michelle.”

“Correct. It is by my power that you were able to converse with the soul that resides inside the doll.”

“Michelle…lost her body in that incident. But her spirit lived on, and rests inside the doll. If I were to gather the ‘Vessels of Deadly Sin’, I could restore my daughter’s body to her once more—it is believing in that that has brought me this far.”

“But you failed. Before you could finish collecting them all--here you are in this sorry state. Why could you not notice sooner that your own sin would ruin you one of these days?”

As the two of them spoke to each other with their identical faces, I lost track of who was who.

Gallerian—no, Adam, started to laugh as though to make fun of the other.

”Keh heh heh.  I’m disappointed in you. –Even with mine and ‘Eve’’s power you failed to gather the vessels, in the end.”

“And ‘Eve’ is?”

“The soul that resides in the doll—You thought that was your daughter, didn’t you? That crafty Ma had you completely fooled. But you’re mistaken. It’s Eve’s soul. Eve and I are fated to be attracted to each other…It’s for that reason that I can converse with her soul.”

“…No. That’s Michelle.”

“That’s what you want to believe, isn’t it? Your mind would be broken if you didn’t. It’s because you know how severe your own weakness is that you’ve clung so heavily to Eve’s soul and the Vessels of Deadly Sin. You’ve continued to accumulate money for an impossible wish. Ordinarily the ‘Marlon Spoon’ houses the demon of ‘Greed’—but whatever the case might have been, you had no need of that. Even without contracting with it, from the very start you’ve been a man greedy for what’s beyond his lot.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Keep saying that. –It is true that once you gather all the Vessels of Deadly Sin, a wish will be granted. But that wish is mine and Eve’s. Once all are assembled, Eve and I will have a second advent. We will recreate this broken-down world. And then we will enjoy eternal happiness in our true Utopia—”

“You’re wrong!” Gallerian cried in rage, moving to knock the other man against the wall.

But his hand passed right through Adam’s body.

“You certainly are obstinate. –Very well. How about I have the very woman herself come here? I’ll call the doll here now…and then we’ll ask her directly whether her soul is that of ‘Eve’ or ‘Michelle’.”

“Can you…do that?”

“I can. Didn’t Ma tell you? I have the power to weaken the repulsion effect of the Vessels of Deadly Sin. Naturally, this isn’t normally a power I can actively use, myself. The power is endowed to the person that I contract with. …However. During my long years of wandering the world, I made my own studies. As long as I am in the middle of contracting with someone, I can receive the benefits of this power. And if I use it skillfully enough—”

“—No, hold on. This place is surrounded by the militia right now. Don’t call her here under these conditions!”

Gallerian tried to stop him, but it apparently fell on deaf ears.

“Now then—come here, Eve!”

.

--There was no severe change or anything like that.

There was no sound, no flash of light.

She just appeared there beside Gallerian and Adam.

Bizarrely, as she sat in her wheelchair, she was no longer a small doll.

She was the same size as a person—as though she were a living human being.

Even I couldn’t tell if that was reality, or else some illusion that Adam was displaying.

--Well, that’s only natural. I am just a bat, after all.

“Eve!”

“Michelle…”

The two of them both spoke up to the doll at the same time.

When they did, the doll’s eyes quietly opened.

Those calm blue-green eyes looked at the two of them.

“…There’s two of you, Papa?”

The doll inclined its head curiously.

“I’m not your Papa. It’s me, Eve—It’s Adam. Your husband.”

Adam sprang towards the doll.

“No. You’re Michelle, aren’t you? Papa’s beloved daughter.”

Undaunted, Gallerian approached the doll.

The doll compared both of their faces for a short time, but eventually she suddenly faced Gallerian and said, “Papa. I want to see outside.”

“…O-of course. Right away…”

Despite appearing confused, Gallerian went to move the wheelchair so that the doll was facing the window to the outside.

“Who are those people out there?”

“…They’re militia. A revolt—a war has broken out in this country. They’re angry with me, and are all leading an assault on this place.”

“That’s terrible! You haven’t done anything wrong, Papa!”

“No…I—”

“It’s alright, Papa. I—will protect you.”

The color of the doll’s eyes seemed to faintly change.

And immediately afterward—

“AAAAAUGH!”

Screams became audible from outside the window.

One of the militia-men was writhing, blue flames billowing up from his body.

“Did…you do that, Michelle?”

“Don’t worry. That fire only burns people, so it won’t catch on the trees in the garden, or the house.”

One by one, the militia solders burst into flame. They didn’t seem to have any idea what was happening. They tried to put out the fire on their comrades even as they flew into a panic.

The doll said happily to Gallerian, “Everyone at the theater tells me this: ‘You and us are one and the same’. –But they’re wrong. ‘Cause I have this incredible power I can use.”

Gallerian was speechless.

And behind him, Adam was trembling all over.

“What…is that power. Eve…can’t…do that. Who the hell—are you!?”

The doll replied to that question, as though it were perfectly normal, “I am—Papa’s daughter. No more, no less.”

“…Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuah…” Then Adam suddenly started to wail pitifully, “Ma, you bitch! You fucking set me up! This isn’t Eve. This is—AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGH!”

Gallerian gazed upon this scene with a cool expression.

“Have you broken, Adam?”

“Ha ha ha! Satisfied? Are you satisfied, now that you’ve beaten me, Gallerian!? But! You’re mistaken! We’ve both lost! We were both deceived! Not just with the doll. There’s a secret that woman didn’t tell you! –Did you think Bruno was your friend? Then I pity you. Even he lied to you. He figured that secret out but he didn’t tell you!”

“What are you saying? I don’t at all get what you’re—That’s enough now, isn’t it Adam? Send Michelle back to the forest where she was.”

“NO! My contract with you is now over! I’m going back to the forest alone—And you two can stay here and burn away in this house together! HA HA HA!”

And with those as his parting words, Adam disappeared with a pop.

.

The only ones left were Gallerian, and—

An ordinary doll, no longer able to move.

With Adam gone, and the contract between him and Gallerian broken—it was now powerless.

<<prev------directory------next>>

[sodalitefully]

Saving Grace [GNR, Sluff AU]

[This one’s a little... far out.  cw for blood and violence.  There’s also like demons and shit.  Inspired by the DOOM series and maybe also a little bit of Mad Max. Can also be found on ao3 here.]

[Two men and a baby meet in a post-apocalyptic hellscape.]

--

Saving Grace

--

A baby girl, a white picket fence, and a minivan. 

Growing up, Duff always dreamed of having a perfect family like the ones he used to see on TV: He wanted to be the man of the house with a beautiful, loving wife, 2.5 kids, a dog… Of course, as a couch-surfing, punk rock 20-year-old with a criminal record and a drinking problem, he didn’t really think he’d ever actually live that fantasy life. 

He just never thought the reason would be because some so-called scientists decided it was a good idea to open a portal to Hell, unleashing legions of vicious demons that poured out across the surface of Earth and decimated anything in their path. 

The charred picket fence wrapped around a pile of collapsed rubble that was once a cookie-cutter suburban house.  Duff had the hood of the rusty van open propped open to scavenge for parts he might be able to use to get his motorbike running again – it crapped out on him completely and left them stranded somewhere in what used to be a suburb of Los Angeles, but now resembled a desertified junkyard.  And then the little girl perched on his shoulders looked up across the wasted landscape and shrieked.

Duff responded on instinct; born into a world with real-life monsters lurking around every corner, his baby knew better than to make a loud noise without a good reason.  He grabbed her off his shoulders and ducked behind the van, shielding her with his body as he listened closely for danger.   

A muffled roar echoed across the low hills, followed by two more similar sounds and the tremor of collapsing rubble.  There were at least three, which might be a good thing: the monsters liked to to fight each other almost as much as they loved hunting humans.  On the other hand, Duff had no chance at fighting off three demons if they were discovered. 

A wet, rattling shriek, closer this time.  Duff shrugged off the shotgun strapped to his back.  And then – A yell, an enraged, human yell that split the thick smoky air with the clarity of a thunderbolt before it drowned under demonic hisses and wails.   

Holy fuck. 

Duff twisted around to peer through the broken window in the van’s passenger door.  For the moment the skirmish was just out of sight, around the corner if the plumes of dust and smoke were anything to go by.  Duff watched a small explosion take down what was left of a house frame, then a figure with charred, leathery skin and bony protrusions was thrown around the corner and into Duff’s line of sight by a wad of shotgun pellets fired at close range.

The imp was closely followed by a man, an honest-to-god man, not one of the hell-possessed soldiers that may once have been men but were now no more than bloodthirsty drones.  The man leapt on top of the dying creature, slammed the stock of his gun into its skull with a sickening crack that Duff could hear from a half a block away, then whirled around on the other two demons that rounded the corner in pursuit.   

Duff was distracted from the melee when he spotted a shadow pass over the sun in the corner of his eye.  The gunshot attracted some attention, it seemed, and a flock of flying demons was closing in.  Duff trained his barrel on the newcomers, but at this distance it was useless.  He spared a glance at the other man: the stranger was running up the street, getting closer to Duff’s hiding place as one of the remaining monsters chased after him.  The other lagged behind, looking mangled; the winged creatures swooped down and tore their weakened kin to shreds in a matter of seconds.

Neither the demons nor the slayer seemed to have noticed their hiding place yet, but the walls were closing in on Duff and his charge.  He searched frantically for an escape, but every path would expose them.  A screech and two crunches in quick succession signified the abrupt termination of the third imp.  Duff turned back to the battlefield in the center of the street: he could see a puddle of blood forming under the crumpled corpse, but its killer was nowhere in sight. 

And then a shadow fell over the van, and Duff’s blood turned to ice.  When he looked up, he was assaulted by the demon’s blisteringly hot breath as it hovered so close it was practically on top of them.  Its body was just a bulbous head, dominated by a gaping mouth infested with so many jagged teeth it could only close halfway.  Beady yellow eyes, at least five of them, dotted the top of the beast’s skull; the largest and most central was trained on Duff. 

He pushed the child behind him and aimed his weapon down the demon’s throat, but the shot only knocked it back a few meters.  Viscous blood oozed from the pellet holes as it advanced again, stretching its maw grotesquely wide so Duff can easily see the glow of a building attack.  He fumbled with the barrel of the gun, struggling to breathe as he reloaded.   

This was it.  Duff had encountered demons before, but he’d never been ambushed like this.  He would go down fighting, that was certain, but a buried part of him was convinced it was hopeless.  He’d failed as a survivor, and more importantly as a protector.  He’d sworn to do whatever it took to protect the innocent life he had been entrusted with, but now... If he was lucky, the monster’s attack would blow him to bits so his corpse couldn’t be repossessed as a minion of Hell.   

The barrel of the gun snapped back into place but sparks were already escaping the creature’s mouth.  Its inhale was accompanied by a rough, wheezing sound… then by a wet thwack as a metallic wedge sprouted from the top of its head. 

The demon wavered, then collapsed.  Duff scrambled backwards as the massive corpse slid down the side of the van and landed on its face right where he’d been standing.  A hatchet – more like a battle-axe, really, better suited to chopping up demons than firewood – was lodged deep in its skull.  The axe’s handle bore a smeared, bloody handprint and it pointed straight at Duff.   

Slowly, Duff’s gaze rose from the bloodstained handle to the person crouched on the other side of the corpse. 

The man who saved their lives stood up and Duff was finally able to get a good look at him.  The first thing he noticed was the dark red fluid that cut a streak from his belt buckle to his ear.  It almost looked like a wound, like the man had been cleaved in two, then the halves forced together again, but deep wine-color of demonic blood was unmistakable.   

The largest, freshest bloodstain cast a sticky sheen across his heaving chest, with spattered starbursts starting to drip down his belly and smaller globs quickly growing tacky as they clung to the sleeves of his leather jacket.  The gash continued up his neck, congealed in the rough stubble on his chin, and crossed the corner of his lip before scattering across his cheek. 

His expression was grim – not quite angry or threatening… It reminded Duff of the heroes in action movies he used to watch as a child, a lifetime ago.  He was shorter than Duff, but he held himself like he expected to be challenged at any moment.  Sunglasses hid his eyes, his lips were peeling from the sun, and his wild curly hair was restrained in a ponytail.  The pockets of his jeans and his jacket were obviously stuffed with ammo for the shotgun on his back and the handguns on his belt, but he didn’t touch those, even as Duff still clutched his own firearm.  Instead, he planted a foot on the beast’s back and wrenched the axe free from its skull. 

Duff flinched as the head of the axe swung a foot from his face.  A fresh gush of blood formed a puddle at his feet, but Duff was too busy watching the stranger wipe disturbingly jelly-ish matter off what was obviously his favored weapon to notice the warm fluid seeping into the cracked soles of his shoes.  Finally, the stranger rested the axe on his shoulder and looked up at Duff with a silent, unreadable expression. 

“Th-Thanks,” Duff forced out.  He didn’t take his eyes off the other man as he scooped his whimpering child into his arms and stood up carefully, ready to bolt at the first sign of conflict. 

He’d heard about people like this: wasteland warriors, lone wolves, individuals who took to the collapse of civilization a little too well.  Most people left on the planet clung to straggling groups of survivors, cooperating purely out of a desperate need for some semblance of safety and normalcy, but people like the slayer fared better on their own.  They took care of Number One, and that made them unpredictable, made them dangerous.   

But then… The stranger did just save their lives.

Maybe that meant that Duff could… well, not trust him, but give him the benefit of the doubt.  It was better to make friends than enemies, after all.  Maybe the stranger knew where there were other survivors, or where they could find supplies.  Maybe he could help fix the bike.  Or maybe he would kill them and loot their meager possessions. 

His little girl was relaxed in his arms, assured that the danger had passed.  Duff wished he could do the same. 

The stranger studied Duff and his child for a long, tense moment, then tilted his head skeptically.  “You two on your own?” 

His voice was gravelly, like he hadn’t spoken in a while.  It was also softer and lighter than Duff expected, almost seemed out of place coming from a demon slayer’s lips.  He was startled enough that he gave an honest answer without hesitating. 

“Yeah. Just us." 

“You got a safe house?” 

“Just the bike.  We’re heading south, I heard about a group of survivors near the border.”  It had been a huge risk, breaking off from the small group he had traveled down the coast with for almost half a year.  But they were barely getting by, and once Duff had a baby to consider he had to find a way to give her a life that was more than just surviving.  A large, successful group could provide more stability, more resources, maybe even other children.  So off they went on Duff’s junkyard Frankenstein of a motorcycle, speeding south through a barren dust bowl along what used to be I-5.  A few days ride, stopping frequently to rest and scavenge and tune up the bike, brought them to LA.  Another few would take them to the old US-Mexico border, to a chance at a better life in the twin ruins of San Diego and Tijuana.   

The stranger shook his head.  “Fuck that,” he informed them.  "They’re all dead.”   

He might as well have ripped the ground from under Duff’s feet, torn open up a pit to Hell and watched him scream as he fell.  His stomach dropped, his blood went cold, and he tried to force down the familiar feeling of panic that stared to creep up his spine.  His horror must have been obvious because after a beat, the stranger made an awkward attempt at reassuring him: “You’re better off, they had some kind of freaky cult shit going on.”   

Great, so even if they’d been able to find the survivors, they would have ended up drinking demonic Kool-Aid or something.  Somehow that didn’t make Duff feel much better.  He wondered if maybe the slayer had something to do with their demise – but it didn’t matter now. 

What the fuck was he supposed to do now?  They were running out of food and water, they wouldn't have enough to get back to San Francisco unless they got really lucky scavenging.  And Los Angeles was a Hadean fallout zone, an early casualty that had been ravaged by waves demon hordes and picked over by scavenging survivors, so there was little chance of that.  Jesus Christ, they didn’t even have a working vehicle.  He held his baby tighter against his chest, rubbing comforting circles on her back while he buried his face on her shoulder to hide his despair. 

Politely, the stranger looked away.  The hazy orange sunlight glared off his sunglasses as he scanned the horizon.  “It’s getting late.”  He turned back to Duff.  “We should go." 

“W-We?” 

The slayer ignored Duff’s disbelief.  “Leave the bike, it’s a three hour walk and it’ll only slow us down.”  He turned his back and started marching towards the setting sun without waiting for Duff’s response.   

Duff gaped at him.  It had been too long since someone had freely given them aid without demanding something in return.  A safe place to stay the night, maybe even food and drink?  It was almost incomprehensible.  Not to mention suspicious, but this really wasn’t the time to be looking a gift horse in the mouth.  The stranger saved Duff's ass twice in ten minutes and Duff didn’t even know his name... 

He scrambled to catch up, matching the stranger’s brisk pace with his own long strides. 

“I can’t thank you enough for this, man.  I’m Duff.” 

“I’m Slash.” 

“Slash?”

“Yep.” 

“…Huh.  Nice to meet you, Slash.”  Slash gives him a look, and Duff hopes he hasn’t offended him.  But Slash just shakes his head and lets out a small huff of a laugh. 

“And the kid?” He asked.   

Duff couldn’t help the adoring grin that lit up his face.  “This is Grace.”

--

[uhhhhyandere]

i’m alive. 

i really am lmao. just gone through a pretty bad mental state tho. i’m trying to write my way through it, and I figured I would share some! it got 10x worse now that I had to move back home from college bc of corona, so i’m going to probably be sporadically writing. 

stay healthy y’all! here’ the result of me playing my fifth time through three houses.

You read a poem once. Back in the day when there was enough time to indulge yourself in such frivolities, you used to read a lot of poems. In the fresh, clean winds that blew through the grassy field below the walls of Garreg Mach, you would situate yourself under the same oak tree. Sometimes it would be in the early mornings when the sky was just beginning to wake in a bask of pink, orange, and blue, but more often you would find yourself reading poems about the mortality and searing reality of war and tragic love affairs with only the light of the sun setting illuminating the print. Each work evocating a pain you should have expected before picking them off the shelf.

Perhaps you were always a stickler for things that hurt you. 

You don’t know why this particular poem was reiterating itself in your mind right now. It spoke of ice and fire, of death and desire, and of the world dying all in a mere nine lines.

No, you were lying to yourself. A little more than five years ago, this poem meant nothing to you. It did not wrench your gut like the epics of long-dead heroes and narratives of unrequited love did at the time. The short poem was something you read in a book of one-stanza poems you happened upon in the library before Tomas’s identity even came out. You remember not being able to discern a theme or meaning between the lines. There was no hidden text or interpretation to be done. What was there is what was there. 

Now, with blood staining the breeze and fire burning through the land under a black and red flag, you found the lines reciting in your head. The scorching heat of when Edelgard set fire to the center point of Gronder Field as you were in the midst of fighting on the very wood set aflame, the sickening burn of splattered blood on your cheeks of a slain enemy, an enemy you most likely once called friend, and the overwhelming intensity of the endless battles raging through Fodlan.  

Goddess, the smoke of the Empire permeated even the air around the monastery.

You exhaled, unable to shake the heavy feeling in your chest. Everyone was shaken from Gronder Field, even Felix, though he would never show or say so. Pointing your blade at the throat of Petra, locking eyes with Claude moments before he released an arrow in your direction (in all fairness, you believe he missed on purpose), they were images cemented in your brain. No prying, no treatment would dilute their intensity, especially as you slept, or tried to. The sun had long set over the mountain, and stars were beginning to peek out into the darkening sky. You huddled more into your cloak to hide from the icy breeze. 

Ice. 

Where fire burned, ice bit and nipped inside your bones. It left its own white heat in its wake. From the inside out, it crawled and it inched down your nerves, your muscles, your skin. The chill would reside over you for much longer. You looked up at the Goddess tower before you, impermeable in the night. Your heart wrenched. You’d been there on a night not so dissimilar to this one, mind the peace of the time and the ball music muffled by the walls. A happier time where you weren’t forced against old friends 0n the battlefield where you found yourself first connecting with the other houses. 

You winced, tears slipping from the squeeze of your eyes. Goddess, you wanted that again. You wanted him again.

But he was ice, a danger as much as the fire was to Fodlan at the moment. Creeping in your core, this was a chill that did not go away in any sauna or in any soup Dedue could stir up in the kitchen, but you did not want to get warm. The heat melts ice, after all, and this ice was so… thin. 

You wiped your stray tears. He could not see you cry, not without risking his temper. The boy from years ago, you knew how to do your best with him. He was much more amicable to your advances to help. 

With this man now, you toed a thin line. 

Fulfilling your promise from five years prior along with the rest of those your professor recruited, you did not expect the boy you fell in love with, the boy whose room you would tip-toe into in the dead of night, the boy you trained with and helped you become the fighter you were now,  and the boy who would sacrifice, by his word, everything for you to be the man you saw that day. Least of all did you expect those feelings or some semblance of them, to remain inside his shattered soul, but, along with himself, they festered into something twisted.

Or, perhaps this has been him the entire time, hidden under the persona of royal perfection if Felix’s continued abhorrence spoke to anything. This truth, however, bit back at you. Weren’t you supposed to be the one to see it? Weren’t you supposed to be that endless fountain of unadulterated support? Weren’t you supposed to know him? 

This guilt ate away at you. You could have done something. Goddess, anything, yet you missed it, and you stayed away for five years grieving over a man who lives, 0r, at the very least, survives. You had to make up for what you missed, both the time he was left alone here, and everything else under your gaze at the academy, 

No matter what it took.

You felt him before you saw him. Despite his seemingly inhuman strength, his footsteps were silent as they traversed across the empty monastery. The wind blowing through the cracks of the wall and ceiling covered up every noise. It almost felt like it was empty, if not for the hands gripping your hips and the heat on your back. 

“Dimitri,” you spoke. He was not the vocal boy he once was, the bundle of awkward phrases and misspoken sentences. Dimitri communicated in touch now, feel, because words outside of threats of death and useless soothings to the dead were not part of any love language. His hands, icy despite his body heat, traversed up your side. You did not jump or try to escape when he neared what you already knew he was looking for. Trying to escape anything he does only leads to more misery. “I tried to patch it up myself on the march back. Didn’t want to bother anyone.” You winced as his claw put mild pressure on the poor excuse of a bandage. 

His head wrapped around to observe your face, and you prayed you had hidden the evidence of your sorrow well enough. Unfortunately, his remaining eye was still as discerning. 

“Do you weep for them?”

“W-what?”

“Those fools. Those who would get in our way, are your tears for them?” Despite your fear, you knew Dimitri would not harm you. At least, not kill you, so you risked turning around, forcing his arms back to his side. 

“Dimitri…”

“They would stop me from ridding these ghosts, these demons, and yet you cry for their deaths? They are no longer your peers. Anyone who gets in our way is an enemy, no matter the past, and they hurt you. They hurt you, Y/N. I’ll crush anyone who dares touch what is mine.” 

“It’s just a scratch.” From saving your self-destructing ass from getting spliced by a lance. You decided to forego that part. “I should have had Manuela or Mercedes look at it before.”

“No.” Abruptly, he turned his back, the fur of his cape hitting you in the process. His large, hulking form retreated into the chapel. You followed wordlessly. “Sit.” Again, you complied. He pulled from beneath the nearby pew a small box of medical supplies. “No one touches you but me. Strip.”

“It’s cold.” 

“Strip.” In the breeze, you lifted your shirt off. His hands were long passed the point of calloused. Under the gloves, his skin was rough as he cleaned the dried blood from your skin and continued to address the wound. The finished product wasn’t nearly as well done as if your priests had done it, but it would do. “No one touches you but me.” 

“Okay.” Dimitri stood and made his way to his regular spot. Murmurs started not so long after. At his side, you would stand. Then, by his legs, you would sit. Finally, at his feet, you would lie. The rubble digging into your back and Dimitri’s growls of promised vengeance to the dead lulled you into the same restless sleep as always.

[sapphirestarxx]

Through the Night

 Chapter 4

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Kagome spent the rest of the day making preparations for the ritual that night. Now that they finally had more information to work with they could stop being on the defensive all the time. This was their chance to go on the offensive, to make some actual progress, take steps toward ending this all.

After her discussion with Inuyasha and her grandfather she had made a call to Sango telling her what she had learned. She had decided to let Sango relay the information to Miroku, her inner matchmaker still at work and coming up with any excuse to get them talking to each other. 

Her best friend was softening towards the monk; she could tell. She could also tell Sango would be the last to admit it, at least not out loud. She was going to fight it every step of the way. Miroku had his work cut out for him, but Kagome knew if he kept at it Sango would eventually come around. She just needed time to see what kind of man he really was and that she could really trust him. It had been so long since Sango had been in any kind of relationship or really opened herself up to someone and Kagome just wanted her friend to be happy. Miroku wasn’t like any of the guys that Sango had been with before; she somehow knew he wouldn’t hurt her like they had. If only Sango would begin to see that.

Of course Kagome wasn’t one to talk. Her feelings for Inuyasha were quickly developing from a crush into something more...real. It was easier when he had just been a total jackass, but now he was showing moments of tenderness and it was increasingly difficult to keep her feelings at bay. She found herself looking for almost any excuse to be near him, talk to him, even touch him. But she was a priestess and he was a half demon and she was sure he would never feel the same way about her the same way she was beginning to feel about him. And she was human. Even if by some miracle Inuyasha wanted her in the ways she wanted him...he was a half demon. He would outlive her. 

‘Stop it.’ She told herself sternly. It wouldn’t do any good to dwell on things that were impossible. She was getting ahead of herself. This was no time to be thinking about such things, either. She had a ritual to prepare for.

The rest of the day passed by quickly and soon it was night. The moon was peeking through the clouds, a crescent of light illuminating the grounds as she and Inuyasha walked across them to their destination. She had gone over the basics of the rite with him so he had some idea of what to expect. There was a shallow pool usually used for purification that she would be using for the ritual. Water was a natural conduit and would help bridge the gap between her and what she sought. 

She had dressed in a simple white kosode and nothing else, as the ritual demanded. Clothing was a worldly construct and she needed her spirit unencumbered by as little as possible. A robe currently covered her, protecting her from the chill of the night air. When they reached the building in question Kagome turned to Inuyasha.

“Okay. I’m going to stand in the water and then I’ll begin. Just stand against that wall over there.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

With that they entered and once the door closed Kagome removed her robe, setting it aside. Taking a breath she stepped into the knee-deep water. It was cold and she shivered, goosebumps forming along her skin. Looking down she realized her nipples were poking against the thin fabric of her kosode quite prominently. ‘That’s what happens when you’re cold and not wearing a bra. Great.’ she thought. This was embarrassing. Well it’s not like Inuyasha thought about her like that anyways.

“Focus.” She whispered to herself.

“I am.” Inuyasha responded and she turned around to face him.

“Not you. I meant me. Sorry, I was talking to myself.”

“Weirdo.”

She peered at him through the dim room and he met her eyes. Then his eyes slipped lower and she could have sworn he blushed before his gaze slid back up. She swallowed. Maybe she was wrong and he was more affected by it than she realized. It was weirdly gratifying, if only because it was proof he was aware of her in that way.

Quietly Kagome murmured the incantations the rite required, performing the accompanying movements with a practiced ease. The movements both centered her mind and acted as a focus for the power she was calling to her. As she moved she reached inside her for that tenuous connection to Tsubaki, the dark feeling of the runes, so her power knew what to search for. 

Incense burned in the braziers, the scent of sandalwood and lotus wafting about the small room. Kagome closed her eyes and took a deep breath, centering her thoughts and clearing her mind. Bending forward slightly she lightly trailed her fingers across the surface of the water before straightening. Taking her damp hands she brought them before her, holding them to her chest, one clutched within the other. In and out, she breathed slowly in measured breaths while she waited to reach the state of meditation that was required.

Kagome didn’t know how much time had passed but gradually her spirit began to rise up, seeking out the dark priestess. Her consciousness soared, until...almost there...

‘Hello there. Stupid girl. Didn’t you know the target of your little ritual can reverse it back onto the castor?’

Kagome’s eyes popped open in shock, her concentration shattered. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Yet, she couldn’t break the connection she now had open between her and Tsubaki. This was bad.

‘I’ve been after you for a while and here you are practically offering yourself up to me. My thanks for making this so easy.’ 

Feminine laughter echoed inside her head along with the impression of a red smirk and jade eyes. Kagome strained against the link between them.

‘You didn’t even think to shield yourself, did you? How incompetent.’ Tsubaki mocked. 

“Screw you.” She managed to grit out, calling upon the reserves of her power to push the dark priestess from her thoughts. “Get out of my head!!”

‘It’s too late for you anyways. I can’t wait to take your power for my own…’

And with that the connection was severed.

“Kagome, what the hell is happening?!” 

Kagome looked at Inuyasha, noticing for the first time that he stood on the edge of the pool, looking like he was about to come in and drag her out if she didn’t answer him.

“Tsubaki, she--”

Her words were cut off and Kagome saw exactly what Tsubaki had meant. 

She felt something within her shift and realized Tsubaki must have accessed her power to lower the wards while they were connected because suddenly her and Inuyasha were faced with two demons. There was no other way for them to have gotten in, certainly not without Inuyasha noticing. She barely had time to register that fact before one of them was beside her in the water, wrapping tentacles around her. Briefly she saw Inuyasha reach for her before he himself was taken by the other demon.

“Kagome!!” 

Inuyasha called out her name as she was pulled beneath the water by one of the demons. Just as he was about to leap in after her the other ugly bastard grabbed him, dragging him away. Fuck. He had no idea how any of this had happened but that didn’t matter at the moment. Right now his main priority was to rip this fucker to shreds and save Kagome. 

Flexing his claws he slashed at the tentacle wrapped around his middle, flinging the pieces away. Blood spurted from the severed appendage but the demon only screamed and wrapped another feeler around him while biting at his shoulder.

“Get-- the-- fuck-- OFF ME!!” Inuyasha snarled, punctuating each syllable with a pull of his arms and the rending of flesh. The damn thing finally loosened its hold enough for him to slip away and he rolled to finish dislodging the demon from him. As he regained his feet he drew his sword, turning in the same breath to slice at the fucking thing. It scuttled quickly to the side, dodging the killing stroke but not fast enough to avoid having more of its tentacles hacked to pieces.

He chanced a look behind him, where Kagome was struggling with the other demon. The choppy sounds of water churning filled the air. Her head popped above the water with a loud gasp for air before she was dragged back under again. Shit. He had to make this fast or Kagome was going to drown.

“Mistress Tsubaki didn’t say the priestess was being guarded by a half breed.” The demon hissed in displeasure before lunging at him again.

“Yeah too fucking bad for you, you weak piece of shit!” Inuyasha growled. Moving swiftly he surged towards the demon and with his free arm punched it then while it was stunned swung with his sword to deliver the killing blow. Its dead body landed on the robe Kagome had left lying on the floor, blood spreading in a puddle around it. 

Turning his attention to the pool he saw that Kagome was putting up her own fight. Tentacles had been wrapped tightly around her wrists and ankles and held her under while she grappled with it. The demon’s head was hovering above her, a suction cup extended as if it was just waiting for her to open her mouth and gasp for more air to suck her soul and power away. 

The water began to emanate a pink glow and Inuyasha could almost literally feel her power as she began to purify it. It screeched as its flesh sizzled but it held on tightly, refusing to let her go.

Inuyasha hesitated in indecision for a second. If he dived in now he would likely be fried by her power as well, but if he waited she could drown. She was strong; she had proven that. He had no doubt she could purify this demon. He just didn’t know if she could do that before she ran out of air. 

It was an easy choice; there was no fucking way he could let her die. And not just because it was his assigned duty. It was strange but the need to keep her safe had become all-consuming. She had become...special. He didn't fucking understand it or realize when exactly it had happened but there was no denying that fact. Not to himself, at any rate.

Just as he leapt into the water the demon Kagome was wrestling with was overwhelmed by her power. It vaporized into nothing, purified. He grabbed one of her wrists, hissing in a breath as her power burned him but he didn’t let her go as he lifted her above the water. Her power receded now that the threat to her life was gone. She took in great big gulps of air, coughing up water, her eyes wild as if she was disbelieving the air was real. When they landed on him she noticed his now-scorched hand on her wrist and looked up at his face.

“Your hand! Oh my God, did I do that?” 

Inuyasha couldn’t answer because his gaze had dropped lower and-- for a long moment he couldn’t tear his eyes away. She was soaked in the aftermath of the fight making the thin white material of her kosode practically transparent. It clung to her skin, leaving very little to the imagination. His mouth went dry. 

“And your shoulder! It’s bleeding!” Kagome was saying. 

‘I can see everything. EVERYTHING. Holy shit!’ He thought, unable to keep himself from blushing. Finally he managed to look away and trained his eyes onto the ceiling.

“Hey! Are you listening to me??”

Inuyasha swallowed, “Yeah, I hear ya.”

“Then answer me! Why won’t you look at me??”

She was making this so difficult. He let go of her wrist and made to turn away but she grabbed his hand in one of her own. The damn girl really had no idea.  

“Have you seen yourself?!” He finally burst out.

At that she looked down at herself and her pretty brown eyes widened in realization.

“Oh my God!”

She released his hand and moved to cover herself. Her eyes cast about, landing on her ruined robe. Inuyasha sighed and removed his haori, handing it to her while being careful not to look at her.

"Here. Put this on."

Kagome took it and he turned his back, giving her a bit of privacy. He heard the wet rustling of fabric as she removed the kosode and the whisper of cloth over skin as she wound his haori about her in a makeshift dress of sorts. 

“Thank you. You can turn around now.” She told him with the prettiest blush on her cheeks. 

“Ok, you want to tell me what the hell all that was about?” Inuyasha asked. He needed a topic change and fast because the image of her body was still at the forefront of his mind. His own body was going to start responding soon if he kept thinking about it. His inner demon was already clamoring at him, telling him they needed to take her right then and there.

“Tsubaki...somehow she flipped the spell back onto me and I’m pretty sure she lowered the wards with my power while in my head. I don’t think she counted on you being with me, though.”

Inuyasha felt a flash of fear for her that the dark priestess had managed to get the drop on her so easily. If he hadn’t been here…

“This is why I fucking told you I didn’t want you to do this!”

“And I told you I wasn’t going to just stand by and do nothing!”

“Did you even learn anything about her location? Or was this all a useless waste of time?!”

Kagome fell quiet and for a moment it looked like she was going to cry. Then she glared. “No, but I won’t make the same mistake with her again. I--”

Abruptly she cut off and Inuyasha followed her gaze to the body of the demon he had slain. He was about to ask her what the fuck she was looking at when he noticed it himself. Branded onto the top of its head was the rune. It only confirmed what Inuyasha had feared-- Tsubaki had intended to use this opportunity to steal Kagome’s soul and spiritual powers, leaving her in a lifeless coma like all the priests and priestesses before her. Meeting her brown eyes with his golden ones he saw the same realization register on her face.

“I need to call Miroku about this.” She said. “I don’t know why, but I have a very bad feeling.”

~☆~

Miroku finished his dinner and put his plate in the sink. Today had been rather uneventful; he had focused on resting and recovering his strength. His wound still ached but that hadn’t been the worst of it; the aftereffects from the demonic poison were still lingering. Even though Kagome had purified all traces from his body it had taken its toll. He was feeling better but he still wasn’t at one hundred percent.

He had received a call from Sango a few hours ago, and she had been painfully polite and formal. It had been a little awkward to say the least. She filled him in on what Kagome had learned during their fight the previous night and the ritual she was planning to perform that night. He had thanked Sango and hung up, not wanting to draw out the rather stilted conversation. The demon slayer was being very clear about avoiding him and although he would be lying if he said it didn’t bother him, he had no desire to push her. He would wait for her to come around.

The reason she was acting like this was obvious. Admittedly, he had been just as surprised as her to find her body pressed up against him so intimately in sleep that morning. Clearly she hadn’t meant to fall asleep on top of him but he had felt his heart swell a little bit at the sight. His interest in her was quickly turning into something more serious. Miroku was almost certain the same could be said for her but she was fighting against it for some reason. She had been about to kiss him, he was sure of it. But at the last second she had backed away and he had let her go. Like he had told her before, he was a patient man. But she was a complicated woman. He sighed.

On his way back into the living room he felt the air around him shift, and without thinking he leapt towards where his shakujo was leaning against the wall. Turning around, he tried to search out what the source of the disturbance was. At the same time his phone began to ring and he answered it while holding the staff in front of him in preparation for a confrontation.

“Hello?”

“Miroku?” Kagome’s voice was on the other end of the line. “Miroku, be careful, I was just attacked and I think you may be next. I can’t explain it, I can just feel it.”

Slowly a figure became visible in front of him and settled into the form of a beautiful woman. She had silky black hair and eyes the color of sapphires, her full pink lips stretching into a smile. The aura around her marked her as an evil spirit, and she held out an arm as if beckoning something to her. In response to the motion two demons shimmered into existence next to her. They took the shape of serpents with the head of a lion. It was not unlike the one he and Sango had faced in that abandoned house, although unlike that one these were real demons and not merely spirits. He had no idea how an evil spirit had been able to summon them but it couldn’t mean anything good. 

“Yeah I think you may be right about that.” Miroku replied, never taking his eyes off of the spirit or her demonic minions. There must have been something in his voice because Kagome’s next words were to demand if something was happening.

“Something is about to. Some assistance might be nice.” He replied before hanging up, cutting off whatever her response had been. She knew his address; he would just have to hold out until one of them arrived to help. Ordinarily this might not have been a problem but with the fight from the previous night still weighing so freshly upon his body and spirit he didn’t think he would be up to the task. Not alone anyways.

“Those other demons failed in capturing the priestess’s essence but you’ll do quite nicely as a consolation prize. Your spiritual power is shining like a beacon. And the package is quite...pleasing.” Her voice was a sibilant whisper.

“Are you Tsubaki?” Miroku asked, although he was pretty sure this was just an evil spirit the dark priestess had doing her bidding. A very powerful one from the looks of things. Perhaps even the spirit of a black witch, considering how she was still able to command power even in death.

The evil spirit laughed, amusement in her eyes. 

“Please. As if Mistress Tsubaki would lower herself for such a task. I do believe I shall enjoy myself quite thoroughly, though. You look positively delicious.”

It was faint but Miroku could see the mark of the rune branded upon her forehead, as if it was a long-faded scar. The demons next to the evil spirit rushed him simultaneously but he had been anticipating such a move. Dodging them both he spun, twirling his staff in a quick motion and striking them as they passed. They hissed at the burn from its touch and Miroku took advantage of the distraction to erect a barrier around himself. The demons shrieked in rage at the loss of their prey and the evil spirit frowned, advancing on him.

“You think you can stop this? Foolish man.” Her voice whipped across his senses, her eyes burning.

He just had to hold the barrier until backup arrived. As if reading his thoughts the evil spirit smirked and reached a hand out for his barrier.

“Don’t make me laugh. Your barrier is nothing to me.” She began chanting something and from the oily and noxious feeling of it sliding across his skin Miroku knew it had to be some form of black magic. Slowly he felt the power in his barrier begin to drain away and he fought against it, pouring more of himself into it.

Reaching into a pocket he pulled out a handful of sutras, thankful he had the foresight to keep some on him at all times. With a murmured incantation of his own he threw them at her where they landed upon her spectral body. She screamed in equal parts pain and rage but although they had weakened her he did not succeed in exorcising her. She was incredibly strong, more so than an evil spirit had any right to be. Perhaps if the two demons weren’t with her, perhaps if he didn’t have to maintain a barrier, perhaps if he was at full strength this wouldn't be so difficult but unfortunately none of that was the case. 

Pushing back against her power with more of his own, sweat began to bead at his temple at the effort. He focused, acutely aware of the two demons hovering just outside his barrier waiting for it to drop. 

The evil spirit reached a hand directly into his shield and he sucked in a breath at the intrusion, hoping help arrived soon. His time had all but run out.

~☆~

Sango hung up the phone and ran to her car. She wished she had the time to don her slayer gear but the wakizashi glamoured at her waist would have to be good enough. Heart pounding she raced across the city, on her way to the address Kagome had given her.

Her best friend had called her, frantic, telling her that she needed to go to Miroku right now because something bad was happening. She had quickly explained she had just been attacked herself and her call to Miroku had been cut off right after he had said he needed help. Sango was closer to his location so she would reach him before Kagome or Inuyasha could get there 

The awkwardness from that morning was momentarily forgotten, replaced by a lump of fear in the back of her throat. He was still injured from protecting her; he hadn’t finished regaining his strength yet. If something happened to him…

At last she arrived at the apartment complex and bolted up the stairs to the unit in question. She tried the door and blessedly it was unlocked.

“Miroku!!”

She paused for a moment, taking in the scene, breathing harshly from her mad dash. Two demons restrained him while a beautiful woman held him close, one hand resting against the side of his face and tilting it down towards her own as if preparing him for a kiss. Miroku was straining against her grip but it was a losing battle. His staff lay on the floor at his feet.

An inexplicable surge of jealousy rushed through her veins and, slamming the door behind her she ran towards them, drawing her sword.

“Get your hands off of him!!”

Miroku and the woman both turned to look at her, him in surprise and relief and the woman in shock and anger at the interruption.

He brought forth a surge of spiritual power at the diversion, blue light crackling at his arms and hands and the woman gasped in pain, releasing him. The demons restraining him hissed in agony at the holy power and then Sango was on them with a fury. With quick and efficient precision she made short work of the demons, hacking them to pieces, blood spraying on both her and the wall. She turned with the grace of a predator towards where the spirit of the woman stood, her expression deadly. Miroku wasn’t ashamed to admit he was a little turned on by her in that moment.

“How dare you interrupt, you rude little bitch!”

In the space of one breath and the next the evil spirit was suddenly in front of Sango, pushing her up against the wall. The demon slayer brought an elbow up, twisting to dislodge her grip and strike at her with her sword. The wakizashi passed through her harmlessly and the evil spirit laughed.

“That scrap of metal is useless against me, I’m not corporeal. And you have no spiritual power to fight me with.”

“Get off of me!” Sango yelled, struggling.

“As punishment I’ll take your soul first. You have no power but you positively radiate with life. Tsubaki should be pleased.” The woman whispered in a gloating voice. 

With a strength that she shouldn't have possessed the spirit gripped the back of Sango’s head and pulled the slayer towards her. The cold lips of the spirit met Sango’s own and Sango could feel her vitality begin to leave her in this perversion of a kiss. 

Blood began rushing in her ears and faintly she heard Miroku’s voice performing an exorcism, felt the body of the evil spirit twitch at the shocks of more of his sutras and, finally, saw him rise up from behind the spirit with his shakujo and a pissed expression on his face. He furiously bit out the necessary incantations, voice clipped and strident, ringing with power she didn’t know he still possessed. Then he struck at the woman with his staff and at last her lips left Sango’s in a tortured scream and Sango could breathe again.

The evil spirit vanished with one final shriek, as if ripped from their plane of existence. It was done. And Sango was so tired. Vaguely she wondered how much of her vitality the spirit had managed to steal from her before Miroku exorcised it.

“Sango!”

She tried to respond but her lips felt numb. She began to slide down the wall, her legs bereft of their usual strength. Miroku caught her around the waist and eased her the rest of the way down to the floor, where she knelt next to him. He held her to him and she found she didn’t mind. She rested her head in the crook of his neck and just focused on breathing and how nice his arms felt around her. Gradually she felt her equilibrium returning and she found the strength to speak, though she still didn’t move from her position.

“Miroku...I think it took part of my soul. I feel so drained.”

“That’s just from the momentary absence of your lifeforce. It’s returning, don’t worry. I exorcised her before she could actually take you.” He reassured her.

“Mmm. That’s good to know.” She murmured. They lapsed into a small silence before she spoke again. “You saved me again.”

“You saved me first. I was merely returning the favor.” 

“Fair point.”

“Also, I couldn’t forgive the audacity of her for defiling your beautiful lips.”

Sango let out a small laugh. “There you go with those one-liners again.”

“Are they working?”

She gave his chest a weak smack with her fist. “No.” Yes.

“Guess I’ll just have to try harder, then.” He teased. She smiled, glad her face was currently buried against him so he couldn’t see.

“How can you stand to hold me right now? I’m covered in demon blood.”

“I don’t mind. You can use my shower if you like.”

 “Maybe.” A thought occurred to her. “Sorry about your wall, by the way.”

He laughed. “It’s ok. That’s what bleach and a security deposit are for.”

They continued to sit on the floor for a while more. Sango knew she should get up, should push him away but found herself grateful for the excuse to have his arms around her. Several more minutes passed and then there was a knock at the door.

“Miroku?!” Kagome’s worried voice came to them.

“We’re fine! Come in.” Miroku called back.

Sango heard the door open and close as Kagome and no doubt Inuyasha made their entrance. 

“We’re not interrupting anything, are we?” Inuyasha snarked. Yep, there he was. 

“Shut up. I just had my life sucked from me.” Sango shot back in annoyance. She imagined she probably didn’t sound that intimidating with her voice muffled by Miroku’s neck. With an effort she raised her head to level a glare at the half demon. Behind him she could see Kagome, who was looking a little bedraggled herself but who also had an unmistakably delighted gleam in her eyes at the sight of Sango in Miroku’s arms. 

“Well it looks like you guys handled it.” Inuyasha commented, looking at the dead demon’s body parts strewn across Miroku’s now-ruined carpet and the blood splatter on the wall. He turned away from the gore and gave Sango an appraising stare. She had the feeling she had just risen in his regard. “Nice work.”

“Thanks. It was a team effort.” Miroku supplied.

Sango gently pushed at him and he released her, standing and helping her to her own feet.

“So what happened to you?” She asked her best friend.

“I think we all better sit down. This is going to take a while.” Kagome replied.  They all settled down onto the couch in silent agreement except for Inuyasha, who opted to lean against the wall next to the end where Kagome sat.

Over the course of the next thirty minutes Kagome and Inuyasha shared what had happened during her ritual and Miroku and Sango then shared their own experience. When they were all finished Kagome spoke.

“I’m not sure how Tsubaki knew where or how to get at you, Miroku. I’m worried it may be because she gained access to my thoughts when she was in my head.”

“Even if that’s the case Kagome, I’m ok. Sango came to my rescue, after all.” He winked at the demon slayer who rolled her eyes.

“Yeah about that.” Inuyasha started. “Kagome has me to watch her back but you got no one, Miroku. With your spiritual power you’re a target now.”

“What are you suggesting?” 

“You and Sango gotta stick together from now on.” Inuyasha replied.

Before Sango or Miroku could respond to that statement Kagome took over.

“When we’re alone we’re more vulnerable. That was proven tonight. Miroku, it almost got you. Next time it might be you, Sango.” She explained. “Where one of you goes the other one goes too. That means sleeping in the same places, so you have backup literally right around the corner.” 

Sango opened her mouth to protest but no sound came out. No, no, no. It was hard enough with limited exposure to him. Being around him all the time? She didn’t know if she could handle it. Between her growing feelings for him and how exasperating he could be... Chancing a glance Miroku’s way she could tell he was fighting a grin. No doubt he was extremely pleased by this turn of events. Go figure.

“Can we please trade places?” She asked desperately to Inuyasha.

He snorted. “Fuck no. I actually prefer Kagome over that idiot monk.”

Kagome looked happy at this admission, and there was a light blush across her cheeks. Yep, there was definitely something there between her and that half demon. That whole boyfriend ruse hadn’t been all pretend. Not on Kagome’s end, anyways. If Kagome could poke and prod her about Miroku then turnabout was fair play and Sango was looking forward to questioning the priestess about it later.

“Fine.” Sango said, defeated. As much as she didn’t like it, it did make a sort of sense. 

“Are you ok with staying here tonight since you’re already here?” Miroku asked her. 

She sighed. “That’s fine. I’ll have to borrow some of your things, though.”

“That’s no problem.” 

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to take you up on that offer of a shower.” Sango said. “I feel disgusting.” 

“Of course. There are towels in the closet right next to the bathroom.” Miroku said. She muttered her thanks and as she walked off Inuyasha and Kagome rose to leave.

“Kagome, wait. If you don’t mind I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes.” He said, stopping her, then looked at Inuyasha. “Alone.”

The half demon scoffed. “Please, you know I’ll probably hear everything anyways.”

“Just wait outside, please.”

“Yeah whatever sure.” Inuyasha said dismissively but he left, shutting the door behind him and no doubt waiting right outside for Kagome. 

The priestess looked at Miroku quizzically. Then her eyes turned shrewd. “This is about Sango, isn’t it.” She said, making it a statement rather than a question.

Miroku gave a laugh. “I’d ask how you guessed but I suppose it’s pretty obvious.”

“Call it women’s intuition.” Kagome winked. Then her expression turned a little more serious. “What I’m about to tell you has to be kept in the strictest of confidences. If Sango finds out you know or worse, finds out I’m the one who told you, I will kill you.”

Miroku raised a hand in surrender. “I promise, I promise. I guess you also already know what I’m going to ask about her.”

“Yes, why she’s not responding to your advances like every other woman. Am I close?” Kagome guessed.

“Something like that.” Miroku admitted.

“Honestly, you really messed up by flirting with that waitress when you two first met. Of course that’s partly Inuyasha’s fault, or maybe it was mine for expecting him to consider something like romance. I should have reached out to you and let you know I told Sango I had presented our little get-together as a double date. It’s just been so long for her, you seemed like a good guy and I just want her to be happy.” Kagome told him.

“Right, I gathered that. I know I have a…certain reputation but with Sango it’s different. And I feel like she feels the same but I don’t know how to get her to admit it.” Miroku said.

“Ok, here’s the deal. Sango’s been burned in the past more than once. She’s wary of men and relationships in general. Her first real serious boyfriend back in highschool had no idea what she really was, and being in love she gave her virginity to him. He saw her scars that come from demon slaying and ridiculed her. When she told him the truth of what she did he couldn’t handle it or her.

“Then in college there was this guy who flirted with her quite a bit and finally won her over. But because Sango was now so self-conscious about her scars and just hesitant in general about giving herself to a guy in that way before he knew the truth of her she didn’t sleep with him and after one month he cheated on her, saying he couldn’t be with someone who didn’t put out.

“I’m telling you all this because I trust you and something tells me you won’t hurt her like these other guys have. But it’s going to take a while for her to come around and see it for herself and realize she can trust you with her heart.”

When Kagome was finished Miroku just sat there for a minute processing all this new information. Suddenly Sango’s behavior made so much more sense to him and he wished he could find these guys that had hurt her so badly and punch them in the face. He found himself feeling fiercely protective of her.

"You said you trust me with all this. Why is that?" He finally asked.

"You put your life on the line for hers, nearly dying for her, and saved her twice now. Plus I've seen the way you look at her." Kagome replied easily.

“...I understand. Thank you for trusting me with this information, Kagome. I can’t express how much this means and I will try to live up to your confidence in me.” Miroku said seriously.

Kagome smiled. “I believe in you.”

With that she left and Miroku turned his attention to the demon carcasses on his apartment floor. It was safer than focusing on the alternative-- Sango naked in his shower. A shower actually sounded pretty wonderful to him too, and he had almost jokingly suggested they take one together but felt like that might have earned him a slap.

Grabbing trash bags he placed the severed body parts into them then, after setting them next to the front door for removal later, considered getting a bucket of bleach. As he entered the kitchen he heard the water in the bathroom turn off. Shortly after he heard Sango calling his name.

Miroku walked to the bathroom and stood outside the door. “Yes, my dear Sango?”

“Uhm...I just realized I don’t have any of my clothes here and the ones I do have are covered in demon blood. C-could I possibly get a change of clothes?” She asked almost shyly.

Miroku reminded himself to breathe. “Absolutely. I’ll grab you a t-shirt and some sweatpants.” 

“Thank you.”

Returning with the aforementioned items he knocked on the door. 

“Sango? I’ll put them outside the door and leave so you can grab them.”

“Thank you, Miroku.” She thanked him again, her voice soft.

While she dressed Miroku changed into clothes more comfortable for sleeping himself and gathered a few things from his bedroom. He figured he would let her sleep in the bed and he would take the couch. 

As he came back from his room he saw her exiting the bathroom. Steam wafted from the open door and he could smell the scent of his soap and shampoo on her skin and hair from where he stood. Despite the shapeless way his clothes hung on her she still took his breath away. She started to head for the living room and Miroku intervened.

“Wait. You can take the bed.”

She looked at him in surprise. “I can’t do that. This is your place.”

“Please. I insist.”

She looked at him for a moment longer, as if she was going to continue arguing.

“Sango.”

Her parted lips closed, swallowing whatever reply she had been about to voice.

“Okay...if you insist.”

“I do.”

“Thank you. Uhm...good night.” She said uncertainly, and there was the slightest blush on her cheeks.

“Good night. Sweet dreams.” 

She quietly padded into his room and once she closed the door he turned out the lights and settled himself onto the couch. Knowing she was sleeping only a couple rooms away, and in his bed no less, was a kind of sweet torture. 

So much for an uneventful day.

[sillylittlelouie]

If This House Could Talk - Raizel’s House - Part 2

Raizel sat with his back against the closed door, staring at the ruins of his brother's study. Caul's grandfather clock stared back at him, forlorn and disgrace etched into its roman numerals. Its hands, which must have stopped weeks ago, hung in as perilous a frown a clock could wear. It, much like the room below, was dead.

Just like his brother.

His breath caught in his chest, but no tears came. He'd cried an impossible amount earlier, when he'd finally seen what remained of his brother's beloved space, in the aftermath of the hurricane of time.

Books had been torn from their shelves and strewn across the floors, while the shelves themselves lay in pieces. Beneath it all, the moldy scraps of a once lavish carpeting peered through, like a body beneath the rubble. 

The crystal chandelier, his brother's pride and joy, was in pieces barely large enough to be called shards. And his brother's desk.

Raizel wasn't certain that some of the pieces of wood on the floor weren't part of what was once the desk.

Caul would be furious, if he saw the state of disrepair that the room had fallen into.

A grim chuckle slipped past his lips. Then another, followed by yet another. Soon, he was laughing uncontrollably, till tears began to slip down his cheeks. He laughed and cried, until there were only tears, and he was back to sobbing uncontrollably again.

As he knelt there, pounding his bruised fists against the filthy, moldy carpets, Raizel found that he had something else to laugh at.

His brother, the worst tyrant that he had ever known - the only tyrant that he knew - was dead. The only family that he'd had was gone, and the only tears that he had shed so far were tears of relief. Where was his grief? His lamentation, his bereavement, his tears of sorrow?

When their parents had died, Caul had laughed, and Raizel had thought him a monster for it. As he got older, he understood through his studies that it took a particular level of sociopathy to be able to inflict such pain, while never feeling it for oneself. 

He had noted that his brother had most certainly carried that level of sociopathy.  

Of psychopathy. 

And now here he was, laughing and just being happy that his brother was gone. He was a monster, just like his brother. Just like Caul had always told him he was.

Now Caul was gone, and with him, the only monster that would put up with him.

A single tear rolled down his cheek and Raizel gasped. His chest, overworked from his hysterical laughter, ached terribly. But, despite himself, despite his desire to shed tears, he didn't want to cry. 

Or did he? It was all so confusing and just-

"I'm losing my mind." His voice warbled, teetering on the edge of what he imagined insanity sounded like. "That's all there is to it." He pressed his back up against the door and propped his left arm atop his raised knee. His right hand wormed its way into his hair and he tugged, relishing the pain in a way that only few could appreciate. "That's all there is to it."

"The word 'grieving' seems a more appropriate description to me."

At the sound of the voice, Raizel gave a start, scrabbling to his feet, even as his shoes slicked and slid in the mold. Then he was falling backwards, sliding against the shredded surface of the door. He landed on his rear, legs splayed in front of him.

It may have been a disgraceful display, but...

Raizel somehow managed to swallow past the lump of terror in his throat without choking.

The floating pair of red eyes simply bored into him, the only solid thing in the mass of black that encroached on his vision.

When Raizel woke next, he found himself in his bed, with no memory of taking himself there. He slipped out of bed, taking note of his pajamas, and vowed to never again watch movies with Muzaka.

Walking barefooted down the corridors, he most certainly did not even glance at the study door.

  Raizel kept his back to his room as he closed his bedroom door. He leaned his head against the mahogany paneling and resolutely refused to turn around. There was a monster, an honest-to-goodness, straight-out-of-the-movies monster standing behind him, in the center of his room. 

"Raizel," the monster growled, "we need to talk." 

He shook his head slowly. 

"You've been breaking one of my rules, every single day, for this past week." The monster shifted, somewhere behind him. Raizel could almost feel its hot breath, going down the back of his neck. "You've never been one to break the rules before, boy."

That was before he'd become aware that he'd traded the devil that he'd known, for a different one.

"There's a reason I gave you those rules, Raizel." 

"Aren't they there because you're trying to lure me into a false sense of security?" he blurted, unable to hold his tongue.

"Lure you into a false sense of security for what?" The monster was right behind him now, hands raised, poised to deliver a killing blow.

"Aren't you a monster?" Raizel sunk his teeth into his tongue as soon as the words were past his lips, lest it betray him any further and upset the creature behind him. 

An oppressive silence fell over the room. It hung so heavy, so cloying that his shoulders were weighed down by the magnanimity of it. His lungs were filled to capacity and just about ready to burst.

Raizel's lips parted of their own accord and a raspy breath escaped him. That single action seemed to be some sort of trigger, because the room got brighter, and Raizel could breathe easier.

"Don't be late again, Raizel," the monster growled, its voice strangely faint. "I won't be able to guarantee your safety if you are." Then, with the sound of heavy drapes being whipped about in a storm, the creature was gone, out the window that Raizel knew he hadn't opened. The window that he could never recall opening, but always closed when he got up in the morning.

Wordlessly, he turned around, walked over to the heavy window and slammed it shut. His fingers trembled as he fought against the stubbornness of the ancient, neglected latch. They were a painful sort of numb by the time he'd managed to achieve his goal, but it was worth it.

    The window was open again, the next morning. 

The window was open, and the dresser that Raizel had shoved and tugged and pushed until it sat in front of his door last night hadn't been moved an inch.

Taking a deep breath, Raizel grabbed his book bag and an armful of clothes.

    Muzaka raised a bushy brow when he saw Raizel sitting on the doorstep of his side of the duplex, in the dim light of the pre-dawn.

"People usually hold sleepovers at night, y'know," the brash boy yawned. Still, he bent at the waist and picked up Raizel's luggage. "If you come in now, I can  convince my old man that I snuck ya in last night."

That gave him pause. 

It was ludicrous, to think that Muzaka did not have parents. But, he had never heard him mention his parents.

Had he left behind one beast, only to run afoul of another? 

But, he left now, where would he go? Who else would be able to bear his presence long enough to shelter him from the demon in his home?

Who else would be able to shelter him?

Raizel raised his eyes and let them focus on Muzaka's increasingly worried, searching face.

Moreover, was he putting his only friend at risk of the wrath of a monster?

Caul's voice, which had made itself known as Raizel had forced himself through his bedroom window, had mercilessly taunted him as he picked his bruised body off the grass after he had fallen from the roof of the porch below his window. It had grown in intensity as he made his escape across town towards Muzaka's home. Now, after having fallen dormant for a blessed few minutes, Caul returned to life.

He stroked Raizel's cheeks, chuckling in that wretched sadistic tone, voice dripping with malice and poison. 

"Oh, my sweet little brother, you brought this on yourself." His hands quit their mockery of a caress, turning instead to reaching for Muzaka. To drawing him closer. "You went and had me killed by your new protector, and now you seek a new dog to do your bidding."

Muzaka stepped forward, brows furrowed, but not a trace of anger in his face. "Y'kay Raizel?"

Caul gave a full, throaty laugh at that, curling an arm around Muzaka's shoulders. "Yes, little brother, are you 'okay' with the thought that you'll be leading death to your new friend's doorstep?

His brother was correct. 

Caul was correct, and Raizel was a fool for believing that this was possibly a good idea.

He looked away from his brother's form, and focused on Muzaka.

There was anger in Muzaka's face now. It roiled just beneath the surface, turning his friend's face red.  

The same red that was usually the precursor to one of Caul's violent acts. Raizel swallowed, muscles tensing as he readied himself for the feel of a blow. 

"Only because you deserve it, my dear, sweet Raizel."

One, two - he began to count the seconds as they ticked away.

One, two, three, four.

 Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Click.

"If I ever see whoever it was that has ya shaken up like this, I'm gonna put my fist in their face." Muzaka's voice, despite brimming with anger, held no water in the face of his gentle grip on Raizel's arm. He pulled him forward, holding him as if he were porcelain. 

Caul, who'd begun chuckling in his cold, calculated manner, fell silent.

Raizel blinked, but the stinging in his eyes refused to lessen. He blinked again, and his vision blurred.

"Wait, Raizel, y-you're crying." Muzaka's grip tightened slightly as his voice rose an octave. "Shit, no, I...I didn't mean it! I won't punch 'em, I swear on my old man's grave!"

"Boy, what did I tell you about killing me before my time!"

Muzaka cupped Raizel's cheek with one hand, using his thumb to wipe the tears from one of his eyes. Now, Raizel could see the fond grimace on his friend's face. "Your time came when the dinosaurs died, ya ancient relic!" 

"You're not too big for me to turn you over my knee, Muzaka S. Carr!"

Raizel froze when Muzaka snorted in amusement. To do that in the face of one of Caul's tirades would have earned him a smarting cheek, at the very least. He would have had to grovel, at this point.

But Muzaka was staring at him now, and-

"Made ya laugh," he chuckled, using his other hand to wipe the rest of Raizel's tears. Then he brought their foreheads together. "Now quit crying before my dad sees ya and thinks I made it happen."

Oh? Raizel touched part of his cheek that wasn't completely covered by Muzaka's rough palm, and felt the slight bunching of muscle. The laughter had been his.

He'd almost forgotten that he knew how.

"Yeah, ya dingus," Muzaka insulted him, smiling.  

It didn't go through him, like one of Caul's insults would have, burning red and hot as it stabbed through his heart. Instead, it settled, soft and warm, keeping the chill of the early morning out.

"You laughed. Now let's go inside."

"He won't be this friendly forever, little brother."

    Muzaka lay back on the floor, staring up at his ceiling, long after his window had been eased open. 

The neighbours were fighting again, but that was an everyday occurrence. Shadowy masses from hell dragging themselves out from under his bed to swear undying loyalty to the person lying on his bed, on the other hand, was not.

That was something straight out of a movie.

He eased himself into a sitting position and glanced over at Raizel. The poor guy had hardly even slept last night.

He probably wouldn't have slept tonight either, if his dad hadn't slipped a bit of whiskey into that cup of tea that he'd given to Raizel. 

Yeah...

Raizel was going to have a bitch of a headache, come morning.

Still...

He eased himself onto his knees and crawled forward, rising to rest his elbows on the bed. He poked his friend's cheek. Yep, he was still fast asleep.

Muzaka bit his lip.

Raizel was still thrown off by whatever it was that had made him decide to spend a few days. He didn't need  to know that there was some sort of monster underneath Muzaka's bed, making it its business to ensure that both of them caught a cold because of that open window.

A cricket sounded, closer to his ear than any of them had been before, and Muzaka scowled.

That was why civilized people in this neighborhood kept their windows closed at night. 

"Damned monster better start paying rent, if it's gonna be leaving windows open," he grumbled, forcing his tired legs to lift him from his crouch and over to the window. "Leaving the window open like that. Does it help chase the fricking bugs out after it lets 'em in? Does it help to pay for the heating in this crapshot place? Must've been raised on a farm..."

[totally-incorrect-theatre-quotes]

After the Rain (Fanfic)

The Maitlands

Lydia starts her first year of high school, and while thing start out on a positive note things quickly take a turn for the worse as rumors from the past surface at her new school leading her to have to decide if she is ready to tell the Maitlands. 

Also this fic is kinda sad, but fluffy. Hella long (4,000+ words haha) so enjoy

Tw: Bullying, Use of D slur, mentions of homophobia, mentions of mental health, mental health bullying mentioned 

_________________________________________________________

She didn’t want to put it off any longer. She had already told her father and Delia the truth, she wanted to tell the Maitlands but she wondered if she was making the wrong choice, I mean she hardly knew them. They’d only moved into their house a two months and maybe it would make things too awkward if Lydia told them that she was a lesbian. She didn’t doubt they’d be fine with it, but she debated if it was something they needed to know...or if now was even the right time to tell them. She agonized for weeks about telling her father, and while it just kind of slipped out when she told Delia it seemed like the natural progression of their relationship. The Maitlands were new territory, uncharted territory. Maybe she was putting too much pressure on this whole thing, maybe she should just rip off the bandage and tell them casually like she did with Delia. 

There were a few times where she had the chance too. The first time they were having breakfast alone together when Delia and her dad went on a weekend trip for their jobs. Adam and Barbara were talking about how they started dating in high school, and everyone assumed that since they were high school sweethearts they were each other’s first partners but Barbara had dated three guys before Adam and Adam had dated two other people and one very very awkward date that ended with him sneaking out of the restaurant and hiding from them at school the next day. Lydia was about to ask how to ask people out and casually mention how it would be a girl but suddenly Beetlejuice came crashing down the stairs covered in blue slime and blaming Lydia’s kitten Cation for the mess. 

The second time the three of them were all hanging out upstairs in the attic, Barbara was teaching Lydia to sew and had made a joke about how it’s very important to keep the needle straight. Lydia decided that perhaps that joke wasn’t the best way to announce her sexuality to her new family members. 

She put it off for a long time, letting opportunity after opportunity pass by where she could have told them but she just couldn’t bring herself to. July and August passed by where any time Lydia would build up the courage something would stop her, something would prevent her from saying it. Often times it was Beetlejuice doing something stupid that took everyone’s attention but sometimes it would be a frog in her throat keeping the words from coming out. She was about to start her freshman year of high school at her new school and lots of emotions started bubbling up all at once. She missed her mom, mainly, this was the first school year where her mother wouldn’t have breakfast with her, hand her a card with words of encouragement, and walk out the door after a tight hug. She didn’t want to admit it but it stung making her own lunch that morning, she’d made her own before but it was a little tradition of theirs and it was over now. On the walk to school, she got very anxious about all the new people she was going to meet and Delia’s concern about her making friends started to feel a lot more pressing than they had a few months ago. She didn’t want to have to go through what happened in middle school all over again, she wanted this to be a clean slate and hoped that people wouldn’t have preconceived opinions about her. She obsessed over making sure her uniform looked proper and that nobody would be able to pick out flaws in her appearance. She had never cared before but now she couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

With her scheduled clutched in her hands, she made her way throughout the school day with very little hiccups. She was very grateful that she wasn’t the only person struggling that day as all the freshmen were dashing around the building like madmen trying to find where their classes were. Once she thought she walked into the wrong room because the class was filled with people that looked a good deal older than her, even the teacher looked confused at her presence but after checking her paperwork Lydia was where she was supposed to be, she had apparently scored high on her science placement test and was moved to an upper-level course, instead of Earth science she was now in intro to chemistry where she was one of two freshmen in a class of mainly juniors. The other kid her age sat in the back, hardly paying attention, and though she didn’t recognize her at first it was the same girl she had seen working at the ice cream parlor. It was strange seeing her without the ridiculous ice cream hat and pale blue polo shirt, instead, they both were wearing identical black and white uniforms but Lydia could swear that on the cuff of the other girl sweater she could see a rainbow-colored pin. Though it was a flash in the pan realization Lydia’s first thought was that she maybe now had a chance. Her second thought was that she wanted to tell Adam and Barbara about this girl, but in order to do that, she would have to tell them she was gay first. 

Her first week of school went by without much excitement, she found some people to sit with at lunch, she was getting along well with the kids she had been grouped with in her geometry class, but her favorite part of the day was chemistry. The ice cream shop girl who she now learned was named Wendy got her seat moved temporarily for not paying attention in class and she was now sitting right next to Lydia. Though Lydia really loved chemistry she often was more focused on glancing over at Wendy’s notebook where she would see lots of little doodles, some pertaining to the things being said in class, but some of them were just random pictures. She wasn’t exactly sure why but seeing the drawings made Lydia feel really happy, and it disappointed her when Wendy was allowed to move back to her old seat on Friday. 

The weekend went by without ceremony and her entire family was shocked when Lydia talk for hours about how much she loved her new school and how excited she was to go back on Monday. Her father and Delia, of course, were relieved to know that Lydia finally started to feel like she was fitting in with her peers. The Maitlands were just happy Lydia was happy, and Beetlejuice was just annoyed that she wasn’t around the house as much anymore to wreak havoc around the house. It surely didn’t stop him from face-timing her while she was in class claiming it was an emergency such as the time when he didn’t know what a mirror was and thought it was an evil clone of it copying all his moves. Luckily she was at lunch at that point, but unsure of how her new classmates would react to the demon living at her house, between laughs she told them it was her brother being annoying. 

Being Lydia Deetz she was mistrusting of how well things were going, she didn’t have good luck, she wasn’t this smooth and this confident. Though she wanted desperately to just embrace the good and enjoy the happiness she was feeling but she felt it was only a matter of time before it all came crashing down and it’s easier to fall from a short height than to fall off the top of the world. As expected it all came crashing down around her. Somehow a student from here that was curious about Lydia’s past got in contact with someone she went to school with back in New York. Just like that the clean slate that she had so desperately wanted was tarnished with her reputation from her old school. It started as just typical bullying. Some kids would call her a freak, some kids would book her in the hallways, one or two would go for low blows about her mother’s death. She felt she could handle those, they were the same as middle schoolers and it was only a handful of kids. The comments stung but they didn’t break her. They started getting meaner, it started spreading around the school that she was “psychotic” and that the only reason she was acting normal now was being she was hopped up on all these psych meds. That she had lost it in New York and got expelled for attacking another student, and it was only a matter of time before it happened again. It slowly started to grow from four or five kids to ten or fifteen. Nasty notes pushed in her locker, leering stares from kids in the halls. She tried to just ignore it, trying not to care what they had to say. Her father noticed immediately that Lydia’s enthusiasm towards school drastically started to dwindle after the second week and she mentioned in passing that some of the kids in her class were being pricks. 

She’d avoid certain hallways, she’d look down at the ground when passing by people she knew would target her. She tried to go low profile and hope that in a week or two it would all blow over and she could just start over and everyone would forget the fake rumors spreading around the school. She was willing to wait if it meant she could just have a shot, but every person has their breaking point and hers came when a girl that she thought she was becoming really good friends with stopped sitting with their group at lunch. When Lydia texted her that night asking if she was sick or something the girl simply replied that she didn’t want to be spending her lunches sitting with a dyke. Lydia felt her heart stop when she stared down at the words on the screen, words that she hadn’t been called in almost half a year already. It hurt just as bad as it did back then. Lydia hadn’t even told anybody at school, she didn’t do anything to indicate she was. Lydia frantically asked where the girl heard that rumor and Lydia was sent five or six screenshots of online posts making fun of her, most of them she recognized from New York but one of them was new. Each one just as cruel and offensive, slurs that she winced at even in writing. She threw her phone across the room and buried her head in her pillow letting out a muffled scream of frustration. 

In tears she curled into herself just wishing that her mother were here with her, she always knew what to say about the bullies or just what to say to bring a smile to Lydia’s face. Her mother would tell her something like the kids are just targetting her because she’s different and that the problem isn’t with her being different but that it was with them not accepting it. The words from her mother would be a comfort but coming from within herself they were meaningless. She wished she could be confident like Wendy and not be afraid to wear a rainbow pin or just say to the people harassing her that she isn’t ashamed but their words cut like sharp knives and she felt very alone. Along with all of her issues at school she thought more about her mother’s absence, and Lydia remembered how she never told her mom that she was gay, and that now she would never have the chance. She was so preoccupied with being scared and feeling like she was wrong that she never told one of the people that she knew would support and love her no matter what. She felt guilt and anguish spread over her body like hot flames as the notifications still kept going off on her phone. She was in a similar situation mear months ago and though she had waited until things got so out of control she couldn’t cope she picked up her phone, went to her father’s bedroom and told him about the bullying. She presented as almost emotionless, matter-of-factly because she knew that if she got into how much it really upset her it would make everything so much worse. 

After a few more days the rumors started to dwindle and she fell back into a semi-comfortable routine save for one nagging feeling that she was putting off something very important. She knew the Maitlands had been informed of her bullying at school but her dad and Delia respectfully didn’t tell the Maitlands what about as they knew Lydia hadn’t come out to them yet. She avoided answering their concerned questions, changing the subject any time the brought it up. After a day or two of walking around on eggshells, Lydia had decided that enough was enough and that she was going to tell them tonight. It was a Friday night and as usual, they were going to hole up in the attic and play a cheesy movie in the background while they did something else. This week Barbara was going to help Lydia finally finish the dress that she had started sewing all on her own, she had a dress down day coming up at school and wanted to wear it blushing when she wondered if Wendy might notice it. The three of them were all sitting on the floor working on their respective tasks when Lydia gulped, “Can I talk to you guys about something? It’s kinda important.”

Instantly they put their things down and looked at her. While their gaze was sincere and meant to communicate that she had their attention all it did was set the spark of the anxiety inferno raging in her chest. Everything she had been feeling in the past week and a half started flashing and she immediately felt overwhelmed and wanted to backtrack but knew that it was too late now. If she told them never mind they would know something was up and they’d press her for details. She swore she could run her finger through the thick tension filling the room, the longer she said nothing the worse it got. She didn’t understand what was holding her back, she wanted to do this. She knew them, and she hoped that they would be fine with it. They never gave any indication that they wouldn’t be, they seemed really chill about most things. Adam had even kissed Beetlejuice, though that was an attempt to distract him when he was about to discover Lydia was lying. 

“Of course, what’s up?” Adam finally said breaking the tension

Her move now. She wrung her fingers in her hands and muttered something along the lines of that she might have a crush at school, opting for a more positive note to start the conversation. She didn’t want to unload all her baggage onto them. This was a safe route, it was big enough news that if she wanted to it could her scapegoat, she could leave it at that and save the real news for another day. 

She was instantly responded to with enthusiasm, Barbara squealing like a high schooler and clapping, “Oh my goodness that’s so cute!! Is this your first crush, aww honey this is great news! I was so worried that with all the things Charles was telling us about how mean the kids at school were being that you would miss out on the good things about being this age. You have to tell me everything about him, what class did you meet in?”

“Did you two lock eyes over the last tray of french fries in the lunch line, both of you having hands on them but it was just boom instant chemistry?” Adam added, “Because if I ever sat down and ghost-wrote a romance novel that would be the meet-cute. Did you go to move your hand away but he insisted that you take them?”

Lydia laughed at his stupid puns and Barbara rolled her eyes at her husband before bothe excitedly turned back to Lydia who had momentarily forgotten the point of the conversation until Barbara asked again, “So...are you going to tell us about him?”

Taking in a deep breath Lydia tried to focus on the happy memories. The butterflies she got in her stomach when she saw Wendy in the halls, the pride flag from her father that she had sitting in a pen-holder on her desk, the five kids who still sat with her at lunch even though they too had heard about the rumors. She focused on how it was perfectly fine for her to feel this way, that there was nothing wrong with her, that Adam and Barbara would support her too. She intended to speak with more assurance but the word came out more timid than she had planned on. Quietly she corrected them, “She….that’s why I wanted to talk to you. I’m gay.”

“I am so thrilled that you felt comfortable enough to tell us this!” Barbara said without hesitation, “Okay so tell us all about this girl that you’ve got a crush on. Is she cute? Do you two talk or are you still in that awkward ‘pining from a distance’ phase?” 

“Pining from a distance phase, I don’t even know if she knows I exist but she’s so funny. She does these doodles in her notebook during chemistry-”

“Ohhh so you’ve got chemistry with her huh?” Adam nudged her with his elbow earning a groan from the two women

“Adam that was awful! She doesn’t need to deal with your corny puns right now, this is serious”

“Oh I completely understand when I came out to my parents it really took them bi surprise especially considering that I was married to a woman when I told them.”

“You’re bi?” Lydia asked excited at the prospect of having somebody else in the community that she could get advice from if she even had questions. She knew Beetlejuice was pansexual but going to him for advice on dating would be like using gasoline to out a fire, he would probably tell her in order to win over Wendy she’d have to do some gross and or elaborate thing

“Don’t you remember me telling you about that one guy I dated in high school a month or two before I started dating Barbara...Alex I have honor history with him but we broke up after we couldn’t agree who contributed more to the industrial revolution.”

“In my defense, you didn’t use any pronouns….and Alex is a unisex name!”

“Fair enough fair enough.”

“Can I just say that this is such a relief to me that this went well. I had been stressing out over this whole thing since about July.”

The two of them stopped laughing and grew quiet and serious. For a second neither of them spoke until Barbara asked her, “Were you afraid to tell us?”

“No, no, no. It’s..it’s not like that. I was just nervous to tell you guys, not because I thought you’d be homophobic, I didn’t think that for a second, I knew you’d be fine with it, thrilled even, well maybe not thrilled it’s not good or bad news it’s just ya know a fact about me but.” Lydia huffed frustrated that she couldn’t get the words to come out right, “I don’t know it came so easy when I told Delia but telling you guys felt like when I told my dad. I didn’t want to make a joke about it, I wanted it to be a serious conversation even though I hate those, they stress me out and I put so much pressure on this and then I couldn’t stop thinking about my mom and just….how badly I wish I had been able to tell her about this all. You guys are wonderful but she’d know exactly what to say about all of this, about Wendy about the kids at school that were bullying me about in first in New York and now here.”

“That’s what those assholes were bullying you for!” Adam shouted, “That’s terrible, I’m really sorry you had to deal with all of that, I couldn’t imagine having all of that on your plate at once.”

“It’s really hard sometimes, I feel like I have nobody to turn to even though I live in a house with the most freaking supportive and loving people I have ever met. How many people can say they have five parents?” Lydia chuckled, “But when I’m at school or in my room and they call me all these terrible names it breaks down all the work I’ve done to realize that I have nothing to be ashamed of, I wish I didn’t care if other people found out, I feel like such a coward when I go back to pretending and hiding it all. I want to be like-” she stopped herself from mentioning Wendy not wanting to seem too infatuated with her, “I just want to be confident.”

Adam scooted over towards her and gave her a hug, “It’s not easy, it took me a long time to be okay with it let alone confident. I remember how scared I was when I told Barbara about it thinking she would just want to break up with me because she would assume I was just gay and using her as a cover story or worse that she’d just assume that because I’m bi I’d cheat on her. It was one of the scariest things I ever had to do but when I did it she just smiled and said that she knew the minute that I moved seats in history class after being ‘best friends’ with Alex for like three months. The thing is Lydia that it gets easier, and one day you won’t feel the need to explain yourself or the emotions you feel when coming out. They are all valid, and I know it’s confusing but we’re here for you. We all are.”

Lydia’s heart swelled in her chest with the outpouring of support and acceptance she was receiving that evening. Her father and Delia were wonderful and their support meant just as much to her as theirs but with Adam, she had someone who experienced the things she was experiencing. He was walking proof that things would be okay, that for every hateful person there were a plethora of people having her back and reassuring her that everything would be okay in the end.

“And I know you wish your mom was here, I wish she was here too and that we could all go through this together.”

“I wish I had told her.” Lydia admitted, “I was too scared and there was so much going on in life that I never told her about it. She wouldn’t have cared, she would have reacted like everyone else so far but it feels empty without me knowing it for a fact. It just reminds me that there’s so much she’s never going to get to know about me and something that I could have told her before the end...I didn’t because I was too afraid. It makes me feel terrible.”

Barbara rubbed Lydia’s back sympathetically, “You were a kid, you still are a kid. Accepting yourself for who you are no matter what it is is a hard and time-consuming process, I know you feel like you lied to her but I promise you didn’t, you just weren’t ready to tell her that. I’m positive she understands.”

Lydia wiped at her eyes trying to clear away the tears threatening to spill over with all the talk about her mom. She knew deep down they were right and that her mom wouldn’t be mad at her for keeping it a secret but part of her still desperately wanted to right the wrong and find some way, somehow to tell her but she knew there wasn’t. It was too late, and this would just be another thing that Emily didn’t get to know about her daughter, “I miss her so much. Going back to school was so hard without her and even when things were going well I was still upset about it, then it all fell apart so fast. I feel like I can never have a minute to catch my breath.”

“Then let’s do it now.” Barbara suggested, “Come on. Let’s all take in a deep breath.”

“No, that’s not what I meant..it was metaphorical-”

“It might feel pointless but when you feel like you’re running in circles and you can’t breathe sometimes the best thing you can do is stop for a minute and just focus on your breathing. There’s so much in the world you can’t control but you can control this.”

“I see you paid attention during our yoga class,” Adam remarked

“Better than you did, your snoring disrupted everyone. We may have only gone to one class but I remember vaguely what he said so come on Lydia. Breath in through your nose.”

She rolled her eyes and took in a deep breath through her nose

“Hold it for a few seconds and then exhale through your mouth slowly,” Barbara explained as she went along with the exercise with her. 

With her exhale Lydia felt the tension in her chest lessen just a little and her mind felt a little clearer. She didn’t want to admit it, and it wasn’t perfect but it did make her feel better. It calmed her down. She spent a little more time in the attic talking about less heavy things, them eventually getting out of her more details about Wendy or any other girls she thought were cute. She felt lighter, laughter filling her instead of the urge to cry. She glanced over at the clock after a while and realized that it was almost midnight, and even though she didn’t have school the next day she was supposed to babysit Skye. She wished them goodnight and right when she was about to open the attic door Adam got a mischevious smile on his face and called out, “Lydia, what did you tell us you were again?”

“I’m gay?” Lydia asked confused as they just had a literal hours-long conversation about this 

“Hi gay, I’m Adam.”

She groaned at his dad pun and Barbara smacked him playfull on top the head with a rolled-up newspaper while he howled with laughter. Lydia turned back around to head out the door and was partly down the hallway when she felt a hand on her shoulder, it didn’t shock her as there were tons of people in the house and BJ was always sneaking up on her so she was always on guard. 

Barbara walked around and stood in front of her and smiled, pulling Lydia into a warm hug, “I’m really proud of you for having the courage to tell us. I know you miss your mom, and I know I’m not Emily. I don’t want to be Emily, I would never try to replace her in your life, but I just want you to know that you never have to be afraid to come to us for anything. I am always here to help you with whatever a mother would.”