#hey i can control my feathers and they can become blade

[tower-arcana]

Close Your Eyes.

a galladay / stellaron hunter sunday oneshot!

link to the ao3 version. . . .

Sunday had admittedly been through quite a lot as of late, so perhaps it was no wonder he’d been having less than savory dreams. He’d wake in the morning or sometimes far before dawn, and he’d be crying uncontrollably, tears blurring his vision to the point of pain. He would have to sit up, grab a pre-prepared box of tissues, and dab at his eyes as he tried to calm himself down. The feeling of immense grief and longing lingered, but he could never pinpoint where it came from.

He couldn’t even remember his dreams, much less why they made him feel the way he did. Bitterness, sadness, and regret were all common themes, as if he’d lost something important to him, but what? Or even who?

Sunday couldn’t waste too much time worrying over things that he didn’t have an answer to, however, and as he wiped away the most recent of his fallen tears, he got dressed and made himself look as presentable as possible; even when aligning himself with the Stellaron Hunters, he had an image to keep, after all.

The deck of the skiff was quiet as Sunday stepped out of his quarters, eyes surveying the area to find only Kafka awake at this hour. Silver Wolf was likely passed out or gaming, Blade was an enigma himself, and Firefly was still recovering from overexertion during Penacony. He felt his heart twist with self-loathing at the words they’d exchanged while he was in his… weaker moments, but at least she was polite enough to co-exist with him now.

As Sunday approached the control board where Kafka was idly watching over their course amongst the stars, he didn’t even have to see her lift her head to know she was aware of his presence. With her ever-amused hum, Kafka finally flicked her gaze to Sunday and gave a coy little wave.

“Hey, sleepy head. Up and at ‘em early today, huh?” Kafka questioned with a slight tease to her tone, and Sunday knew she was perfectly aware of how she often ruffled his feathers, so to speak. Still, he didn’t make a jab back; he’d become far too used to masking his irritation as the former Oak Family Head, and the skill came in handy here, too.

With a passive facial expression and a soft sigh as he sat down in the open seat beside the captain’s chair Kafka was perched on, Sunday crossed his legs and met her eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Good morning, Kafka. I suppose it is early, isn’t it?”

Sunday makes sure not to crack, even as Kafka studies him with that unnerving gaze of hers, like she’s read his mind and has studied every bit of him like the back of her hand. His lips, however, purse into a deep frown with her next words.

“You’ve been having those dreams again, haven’t you?” Kafka says it more as a statement than a question, and the way her tone seems almost sympathetic makes Sunday want to vomit. “It’s written all over your face, hon. Especially those puffy red eyes.”

It takes everything in Sunday not to bristle and snap at Kafka then and there, reproached by the idea of being called out so blatantly by the woman – but he holds back, and with a sharp inhale through his nose, he sighs out his frustrations. Perhaps he can let his facade slip, if only slightly, for every lie is rooted in truth, isn’t it?

“...Yes, they’ve been rather persistent, unfortunately,” Sunday concedes, clicking his tongue indignantly as he averts his eyes to the window, even though he knows he can hardly hide from Kafka’s watchful surveillance. “It’s peculiar, really. I don’t even know what could make me react so strongly.”

He can feel Kafka’s weighted gaze on him as she appears to consider his dilemma, and after a few beats of silence, she pipes up once again with an offer he hadn’t even begun to consider. “Perhaps it’s some sort of subconscious blocking of your memories? I could use my spirit whisper and see if I can wrangle a little bit out, I managed to do it once for Bladie.”

“Excuse me?” Sunday can’t help the way he perks up at Kafka’s suggestion, and he quickly schools his expression into one of doubt. Still, he can’t deny the hope that surged forth at her offer, and he wonders just how much merit it had to it. He was beyond curious about what exactly had been plaguing his subconscious, and he at least wanted to resolve it so he could move on with his duties.

Sunday considers it for a moment longer, before hesitantly, he nods his head and turns his body to face Kafka in the seat, his expression wary. “Very well, I suppose there’s nothing to lose in trying. Try anything funny, though, and I assure you I will–”

“Sure, sure, I know the drill. Just sit back and try not to freak yourself out, birdie,” Kafka waved off Sunday’s threat with a nonchalant laugh, and she turned to face him as well. He couldn’t help but notice she was making an effort to be oddly… comforting, and he didn’t know whether he despised it or somewhat appreciated it.

He didn’t get much of a chance to decide which, however, because Kafka’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and she purred out the trigger word. “Listen: Sunday, you’ll let yourself remember whoever or whatever you’ve forgotten. You’ll remember and you’ll process whatever you’ve been hiding from, and you’ll do it without self destructing… starting now.”

The whole charade was a bit too glorified for his liking, if Sunday was honest. He raised an eyebrow as he waited for something to magically happen, and despite the sinking feeling in his stomach, he remained skeptical. After a moment, he shook his head and opened his mouth to report his nonexistent findings when he felt his eyes begin to… water?

He was crying. Why was he crying? Why was he–

Sunday remembered when he first met Gallagher at a gathering between the families, and it was as if the man had been there his entire life. He slipped in and took his place at the table, and nobody batted an eye. He was perfectly inconspicuous, even to Sunday. And yet, something felt off when he’d locked gazes with Gallagher, a nagging feeling at the back of his mind that this man was out of place. A puzzle piece shoved into the wrong place and forced to fit into the grand picture.

Sunday bided his time until after the meeting had ended, keeping a hawk-like eye on Gallagher the entire time as he approached the taller man, wary, but not intimidated. The Oak heir had long since found that the tallest men can fall with the sweet music of order.

“Gallagher of the Bloodhound family, yes?” Sunday greeted smoothly, putting on a faux smile of warmth as he bowed his head ever so slightly, another empty show of respect. Another thing he’d learned is that you must kiss the asses of these buffoons to earn their trust, and so he would do just that. “My name is Sunday Oak, as I’m sure you're already aware. I’m afraid we haven't had the pleasure of meeting personally yet, though. May we get to know each other a bit, perhaps over dinner?”

Again, kiss their ass and repeat until you have what you want; Sunday may be a devout believer, but he knows the inner orchestrations of life well. What he doesn't expect, however, is for the gruff looking individual to crack an almost wolfish grin and wink at him, of all things!

“Gallagher in the flesh and at your service! It’s an honor to finally meetcha, and you know…” Gallagher pauses, a teasing hint in his tone and his eyes sparkling with mirth. “I’d say it sounds like you’re asking me on a date right now, Mister Oak. Don’t get me mixed up, I’m definitely open to it, just surprised I’ve charmed the pants off of the Family Representative so fast!”

If Sunday was a man with less self control and less patience, he may have bristled and flushed a furious red right then and there; instead of rightfully telling Gallagher off, though, the Halovian just smiles thinly and plays along. He wasn’t exactly one to seduce men for his own benefit, but at least Gallagher was nice to look at all the same.

“I wouldn’t say my pants are charmed off just yet, Mister Gallagher,” Sunday quips back with an easy smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he begins to lead Gallagher out of the meeting hall and to the foyer. “But perhaps I am inviting you to a date, and it seems you’re willing, too. Now, why don’t I have the culinary staff prepare us a nice meal…”

Sunday could tell this would be a long evening already, but he fully planned on getting to the bottom of this admittedly charming man known as ‘Gallagher,’ no matter what.

/ / /

Well, that had escalated far quicker than Sunday had anticipated.

One second, he was begrudgingly enjoying the banter between himself and Gallagher, exchanging jabs and playful snide remarks; in the next moment, Sunday was eagerly pressing himself against Gallagher’s body, pulling the taller man’s hair down so that their lips met in a messy kiss. Sunday was nothing if not coordinated, but he felt almost… desperate to have this enigma closer to him, to feel the heat of this potential threat. What a fool he was.

Tongues and limbs intertwined, the two men barely managed to make it to Sunday’s bed chambers before they were ripping each other’s clothes off, and in a whirlwind of passion and lewd noises, hours passed before they were through with each other. Desire satiated, at least for the moment, Sunday laid in Gallagher’s arms, his head resting on the wolfish man’s chest as he caught his breath, and his nose wrinkled as he smelled the smoke from the other’s cigar.

“Must you rot your lungs in my bed? If you get ash in my sheets, Gallagher…” Sunday’s tone was warning and rather harsh, especially for his usual persona he attempted to portray, but Gallagher hardly seemed to mind. In fact, he just chuckled heartily, the sound sending vibrations through his chest that made Sunday’s traitorous heart flutter in his chest.

“Relax, relax, pretty bird, I won’t make too much of a mess,” Gallagher soothed halfheartedly, though as he paused, a devilish smirk tugged at his lips. “Well, not more of a mess than I’ve already made, of course.”

Sunday felt his face heat up at that, and he scoffed in exasperation, rolling over onto his other side and facing away from Gallagher, almost pouting. He wasn’t one to sulk, he had a reputation to upkeep after all, but something about this man made him feel more vulnerable than he had in a very long time. “You’re far too vulgar for your own good, hound dog.”

“Pfft– Hound dog? I like these animal pet names we’re coming up with, it gives me a chance to get creative,” Gallagher snickered a bit, but he conceded all the same in putting out his cigar and scooting closer to Sunday, putting an arm around the other man and pulling him back against his chest. “Come on, don’t put me in the dog house, Sunday! Geeze, you’re really too cute, you know that?”

Cute? Sunday was far from cute, and yet that comment made his heart skip a beat all the same. Xipe above, what was this Bloodhound doing to him?

/ / /

Sunday was all but seething as he leaned over Gallagher’s desk, his lips pulled back in a sneer as he glared daggers at the smug bastard’s face. He’d barely been able to keep proper track of Gallagher’s dealings that entire month, and the more he looked into it, the stranger the apparent Bloodhound’s employment became. Who the hell was this man?

“You’ve been sneaking around like an alley stray, you know that, yes? You’re hardly as subtle as you seem to think you are!” Sunday hissed in a dangerously low tone, making it clear he wasn’t about to sit down and take these mysteries that Gallagher kept feeding him. It was almost like a betrayal, to invest so much time into this mystery of a man and get so little in return.

Still, Gallagher hardly seemed to be taking this seriously; he even laughed as he leaned back in his chair, a crooked grin on his face as he scanned over Sunday’s fuming face. “Aww, don’t be like that. I’m sure you’ve got secrets of your own, don’t you, pretty bird?”

“Don’t call me that!” Sunday shot back, bristling at the sickly sweet tone Gallagher used, one that had once assuaged him, but one that now made his skin crawl. He hated feeling out of control, this weak, and he was determined to eliminate the source. “I may have my secrets, but they’re for the benefit of others, Mister Gallagher. And I hardly find it convincing that you have any secrets that aren’t only for your own gain!”

A beat of silence follows after that, a tension hanging thick in the air as Gallagher’s smile slowly faded, and he stared Sunday down. The Halovian nearly felt unnerved, but he held his ground, and he watched in outrage as a bitter smirk twisted on the Bloodhound’s lips.

“I won’t deny you there, Mister Oak. I’m a selfish man, and I’m afraid I gave you the wrong impression that you could change that,” Gallagher’s voice was flat, lacking in the usual warmth it held, and Sunday felt a chill run down his spine at the near-deadly glint in the man’s eyes. “Now, why don’t you run along and play with your toys, Mister Oak? I have a job to do, as you have so politely reminded me of.”

Gallagher waved Sunday away then, making it clear the conversation was over. Sunday almost had the impulse to continue chewing the other man out, but he felt… heavy. He decided he would leave with the little dignity he had left, if Gallagher decided it was as he saw fit.

Spinning around on his heel, Sunday stalked off, keeping a mask of fury still on his face, but he felt a brew of conflicting emotions inside. Why did he feel so hurt? Why did he feel used? He was not one of the weak, he was not one of the ones to feel shepherded — so why?

Why did he already miss Gallagher?

/ / /

Sunday had thought he was dead for certain. When Gallagher had practically cornered him in his office, he could practically taste the bitter bile of death in the air. Is this what Robin had felt when Gallagher had taken her life? In a way, the Halovian man felt he was responsible; maybe if he’d exposed this wretched hound sooner, this wouldn’t have all fallen apart.

Then, when Unto Death’s coil struck, Sunday found himself… breathing. Alive. With his sister, Robin.

Sunday didn’t know what to make of it. Even if Gallagher’s intentions were apparently good-natured, even if the Bloodhound had revealed it all in the name of the Trailblazer’s cause… Sunday could not feel content. No, he couldn’t be satisfied knowing he was not only lied to, but used in the grand scheme of this man’s plans, no matter how just.

But it was fine. Sunday would have his time to dish out punishment soon enough; he had his own turn to enact a betrayal, after all. It seemed Gallagher was aware of Sunday’s plans as well, somehow that damn devil had seen through him yet again. But he said nothing, neither of them did. Gallagher just gave him one last forlorn look, as if Sunday was the one in the wrong!

He only hoped, as he turned his back to Gallagher one final time, that this loyal old mutt would be able to witness the dream Sunday had so carefully crafted before vanishing. For he knew that if his deductions were correct, Gallagher had revealed his secrets, and thus, he would meet his own end in due time.

Sunday didn’t need to acknowledge how that very thought made his stomach sick. He only needed to keep his eyes ahead, and he would bring order to this chaotic dreamscape once and for all.

/ / /

Sunday couldn’t stop the tears from falling, from clouding his vision and twisting his heart into painful knots. It had all been for nothing. He had been so sure what he was doing was right, and in the end, he’d had a hand in Gallagher’s death all the same. Maybe if he had realized Gopher Wood was a false prophet sooner, maybe if he wasn’t part of the very same antagonists the Trailblazers had to defeat–

He hadn’t even realized he’d been struggling to breathe until Kafka had reached out to put a steadying grip on Sunday’s shoulder, her voice soothing and almost maternal as she guided him through a few breathing exercises. “In and out, slowly birdie, slowly…”

It took a few minutes before Sunday could think clearly again, his throat hoarse and his eyes stinging from the realization of what had been the source of his grief all along. Gallagher, oh Aeons, how had he forgotten you?

Sunday didn’t need to look at Kafka to know her expression was sympathetic, and he just shook his head, gripping his knees as he made sure not to spike into another lapse of sobs once again. He finally brought his gaze up to look at her, and she just nodded understandingly, patting his shoulder one last time before standing up and leaving him at the control panel without another word.

It was amazing just how far a human’s trust could go. It was a shame he couldn’t show the same trust to Gallagher when he had the chance. He’d been so keen on placing faith in no one but himself, and look where it got him…

Sunday was such a fool. Such a goddamn fool.

With a shaking sigh, he pulled himself into a standing position, intending to wash his face at the least before the other Stellaron Hunters woke up, as well as process the past he’d just realized, when the clatter of metal hitting the ground caught his attention. Blinking, Sunday’s eyes drifted down to see a simple silver lighter, and he picked it up with careful hands, inspecting the familiar item with a small smile.

“Ever the loyal dog, aren’t you, hound?”

Sunday wouldn’t forget Gallagher, not this time, not ever again.

[sincerely-sofie]

Chapter 9 of Sofie Plays "Slay the Princess": The Hero and the Princess (Round 4) + The Prisoner (Part 1)

Listen. I may be stupid. But I'm also dumb.

[ Beginning ] - [ Previous Part ] - [ Next Part ]

EYYYYYYYYYY this is personally relevant in a very darkly humorous way, right down to the wording! Loving the player character and how much I can project experiences with psychosis onto the guy.

Okay hear me out HEAR ME OUT, this is me stretching this quote SO FAR to mean what I want it to mean BUT. As far as we know, the player character is the only person the Princess has ever met. Is this the Ultra Princess commenting on the fact that she doesn't know anyone but the player character? Long Quiet Personification PC confirmed????

PC'S PERCEPTIONS OF THE PRINCESS INFLUENCE WHAT THEY BECOME!!! I WAS RIGHT!!! LET'S GOOOOOOOO

I'VE BEEN ITCHING TO TELL THE ULTRA PRINCESS ABOUT THE NARRATOR. FINALLY.

Oh shoot. Um. We appear to be closer to the ending than I thought...

YOU FRICKIN' FRICK I WANTED TO GO THROUGH THIS WHOLE GAME WITHOUT PICKING UP THE KNIFE EVEN ONCE. DANGNABBIT.

Nope don't like the fact that the music cut out the second I picked up the knife! Don't like that!

Princess I don't think you quite realize that there are more awkward starts to a relationship and I speak from a painful degree of experience.

Asked her how I can get her out of here and the flashbacks are returning TTnTT

VERY deliberately avoiding the bait that is that upper dialogue option.

Why is dismemberment always the answer with these two?

Was this an option last time??? Was this an option the whole time and I missed it because I took ages to realize I could scroll through the options menu??? FRICK.

"I'll make this quick" she says. I don't like the confidence in her tone or the ramifications of how that will affect my perception of her and the way she manifests next time.

Welp. It really was quick this time. At least there's that.

WHOA WHOA WHOA HOLD ON. The Princess has been a prisoner this whole time. That's been one of her most defining, fundamental character traits. Is this chapter title implying that she wasn't as much of a prisoner as I thought?

New party member! Mr. The Narrator you should understand the struggles of being a disembodied voice. Improvise, adapt, overcome.

First thought on the Skeptic was that I didn't like him. He is now one of my absolute faves.

MIRROR TIME! MIRROR TIME! MIRROR TIME!

I'LL GET YOU ONE DAY YOU REFLECTIVE MANIAC.

I refused to take the blade and the Skeptic is digging in his heels about it. I don't like the revelation with Skeptic picking up the blade that Voices other than the Narrator are able to control my body.

I don't want to choose violence. I want to choose happy endings and love stories ;w; Guys. Guys please.

... Why is that one manacle empty?

The Hero is sweating bullets and wondering if the Princess is going to behead herself to get out of here and I'm dying laughing despite my nerves.

The Skeptic just called the Narrator pathetic, to which the Narrator basically said "WELL IT'S NOT LIKE I EVER SAID I WASN'T." At least he's self-aware.

PC: Hey, who's that other chain for? Princess: Wouldn't you like to know, feather boy. Narrator: *deep, deep sigh*

Did a lot of beating around the bush talking about who has more reason to distrust the other. Pretty sure the only way out of this is to behead her, and I'm really curious about the empty shackle. Gonna check that out first and then cut her out myself.

Narrator's huffy about me examining the shackle. Buddy it's an inanimate object, and I'm pretty sure you're not very motivated to trap me using it like you always get with locking the door to the basement.

Skeptic just asked "And what? Is it going to lock the second we put our wrist into it?" and I have done a 180. That thing is definitely locking onto us if we put it on. Still gonna put it on because that's what the Contrarian would say to do if he was with us and I miss him.

Either way, even if my bad decisions result in us being chained up, we still have the blade. Beheading is still an option.

Oh goodie, the music cut out! That's a good sign!

NOOOOO IT'S THE CONSEQUENCES OF MY OWN ACTIONS

Dying at how the Princess's expression changes to one of mild disappointment.

Beheading is no longer an option :(

The Skeptic just pointed out that the chain is clearly special, and I'm hearing Kill Bill sirens and remembering that one time the Narrator said I was special during the Beast chapter.

*pops confetti popper* iiiiiit's DISMEMBERMENT TIIIIIME!

(Ran out of images to include in this. See y'all in the next one!)

[shywhumpauthor]

Hey! I need some help with my writing, and you seemed like the best place to go!

So my whumpee is being experimented on in a lab, eventually to be turned into an angel-like thing (wings and blindness).

I would love to build on the whump scenarios that happen in the lab, and maybe after she escapes with the inhuman caretaker?

Lemme know! Thank you so so much, I love your posts! 💞

Aw anon of course, I’ll help as much as I can! I’m a bit confused with your wording—but I believe you’re asking for ideas for the experiments and the aftermath with the caretaker? Correct me if I’m wrong though! Also I wasn’t entirely sure what you meant by inhuman caretaker, so I kept that aspect kind of vague. Same kind of thing with the “blindness”, I tried to do a bit of research on angels for this but it led me in a hundred different directions sooo I tried?

For experiments, the big thing I can think of is surgeries. A long series of painful, complicated procedures, each one designed to target a small part of the transition. Altering Whumpee’s anatomy of their spine/shoulder blades to first create space for the wings, one to connect the beginning muscles to those they already have, careful attachments of the ligaments, extending the nerves through the new appendages. Have fun with the technicalities here, add in as many little details as you wish.

For other aspects of the (assuming) human to angel, drugs. String a bunch of random letters together, boom. All sorts of drugs, to promote fast healing, less recovery time needed between operations, to prevent illness associated with infections they might contract with the prolonged open exposure of the wounds. Give them something that will lessen the chances of their body rejecting the new additions, that will be fun.

Then once the wings are attached, lots of tests. Stimulation, reaction time, having to physically teach them how to control the new body parts. If they have feathers, that will be a whole new nightmare, having to grow them, grooming, the technicalities behind how they will be produced, on and on.

Physical therapy of course, do I really need to extend on this?

Other possibilities for what happens in the lab, for sensation testing, stick a bunch of little tiny needle sensors into the wings, use those to track their ability to connect the sensory to their mind, see if they can pinpoint where the needles are without seeing them put in. Run little shocks through the metal, test how much the current translates from the appendage to their pain receptors. See how they deal with hot, cold, pluck out the feathers one by one to expose the sensitive, raw “flesh” below and then cut that up for the same reasons above.

Keep them in a cage when they’re not in “use”, a tiny one which they could barely fit in, forcing them to cram their wings uncomfortably

I’m not entirely sure how the blindness would come along, but you could either have the Whumpers inflict it intentionally, or it could be an accidental side effect of one of the drugs, a minor setback

Whenever Whumpee isn’t actively being tested on, bind their wings. Tight burlap pulled across the feathers, bound flush against their back with straps of leather to keep them out of the way. It’s uncomfortable and painful, will leave them stiff and sore for days after they’re released from the bonds 

After the escape, they’ll obviously be traumatized. They could have developed anxious habits in the lab such as tugging out their own feathers, or hiding their wings against them because they were so adverse to having them touched and used to otherwise having them bound

They won’t be able to stand anyone touching their wings. Instant meltdown, panic attack, screaming and begging and crying much to Caretaker’s horror and confusion

Because they won’t let caretaker help care for their wings, and they don’t know/are unable to do so on their own, they become a rather sore sight, ingrown feathers, molting is a nightmare, pains and aches, stiffness and reluctance to move

They hate confined spaces, but extending their wings feels unnatural

Maybe there’s a refeeding syndrome thing where because they were so used to whatever crap they were fed in the lab, some sort of mush composed of only the bare nutrients they needed to survive and thrive during the trials that they cannot adjust to actual food

Alright I’m tired writing this and I can’t think of anything else right now, I hope this helps! If you need more, by all means send another ask I’ll be happy to help more!

[lookotherway]

Only heroes have the license to use their quirks in public like that’s a big reason why the MLA were still kicking.

not sure you mean it good or bad, but like there is a reason for the prohibition of public using quirk. how do i even start to explain this without making a mess 😵

in mha, there is no limitation for 'quirk', for what and how quirk can be and will be. there's no barrier, no system, no textbook power. you can imagine something, stupid or magnificent, and there definitely will be someone in the world has or had that. and even your imagination will be limited of how quirks could turn out. that's the first thing, because there's no solid scale to reckon how great a quirk will be, there is no way to reckon how terrible a quirk will be.

the second thing is, mha world isn't a world that started with superpowers. it is a world that started out as a normal world and evolved into phenomenon world. it means the base of civilization was built up for a normal civilization, not for a paranormal civilization. i will take example so it could be easier to understand:

take it as the gigantic quirk. the roads and map of buildings were set since the quirkless era for normal people, even though it has been improving again and again for the existence of mutant, it still kept the main design for average human size. do you think it should be rebuild to fit someone as big as the gigantic in PLA, or someone like mt. lady, just because they are free to use their quirks aka become too big for the city? how will they hold the responsibility? if they destroyed some buildings is it their fault for using their quirks wrong or is it the society's fault for not building some bigger roads?

what about quirk like overhaul's? when he disassembles then reassembles a person, are we going to count it as a killing action or a treating action? is he going to hold the responsibility of assaulting people, or is the government going to hold the responsibility because they let him use it freely? are the people who voted for free use of quirk going to hold the responsibility, or they will just push it to the government?

or toga. her quirk requires drinking blood to active. so if she attacks people and drinks their blood, how are we gonna handle this case? yeah sure, there is law that prohibit you to attack people with your quirk. but her quirk requires drinking blood to active. if we prohibit her to drink people's blood isn't that just we taking away her human right? her free quirk using right?

it will be a horrible legal nightmare to regulate quirks if everyone's free to do whatever fuck they want. it will be a century pain if you want to... pull the entire based civilization down and rebuild it so everyone can be free.

and another thing is, leading a whole nation isn't a game. stabilizing a nation and society isn't a game that one can simply put on a bet that sure people will behave and comply with the law if we allow them to use quirks freely. no. human's heart is ugly no matter what kind of evolution they've gone through. the government simply cannot bet the entire peace and order of the society on... the society itself.

it's not about 'they prohibit me from using my own quirk freely'. it is about you have yet to prove them that they can have faith on you. that's literally how heroes start out. the society isn't just you. it is everyone, so it can't be 'everyone can be whatever fuck they want', it has to be 'everyone are equal therefore everyone are treated the same unless they prove their ability'. a clock can't work if each of its cog wants to wheel its own direction.

[yeahimaloser]

Oooo I also got another good request how about a hawks x reader childhood friends they grow up together she took his punishments for him yk they have each other’s back and then in the future a villian attack and she ALMOST dies but no she gets save then hawks realizes he loves her and it’s all fluff at the end eek

Ok so, I literally love this request so much, I have no idea why it took me so long to write, but it's finally done!

Oh my god it took so long.

they/them pronouns used.

8k words! please enjoy!

16+ a bit suggestive at the end.

. . .

You sniffed, a hand wiping across your face as tears stung your eyes.

You had been training with the commission for a while now, almost a month to be exact. And it was so hard. In fact, it felt more like they were specifically targeting you.

You looked over at one of the other kids in the commissions program, Keigo, he seemed to have no problem with this exercise, in fact, you would have thought he was excelling at it.

But you could only sit and watch as his little wings flew past you.

You were only pulled from your family recently, but you knew that Keigo was here longer than you were. You rarely talked to him since your arrival, maybe it was because part of you didn’t want to become friends with anyone, maybe it was a small way of acting out, you didn’t know why, but you didn’t like him. He was just so much better than you.

Ever since you first came here, you’ve felt weak. You felt inferior to Keigo, you couldn’t help but compare yourself to him, watching exciede everyones expectations.

Compared to him, you were nothing but a dull blade.

You look down at your hands, cursing them as if that would do you any good. Your eyes stung again, the dust prickling against your eyelids.

The exercise was not supposed to be a difficult one, in terms of the gruelling training practices that they made you do, this one was pretty easy. All you had to do was get from one point in the commission's training facility, all the way to the other side of said facility. A simple running exercise. Although the floors were littered with traps, making it harder for you to get there, you knew it was supposed to be easy. And yet, for whatever reason, you had such immense difficulty.

Your quirk was mostly made for combat. It was the power they gave you the ability to control metal through your will. And although others might find it useful, you found it so difficult.

The problem was, your power was flashy, and yet not as easy to use as one might think. The metal had to touch you, which means that you have to get a hold of some metal object. And although technically you would be controlling it through your mind (Making it fly through the air at your own will) the object couldn’t be very heavy. Whatever metal object you wanted to use would weaken you. For example, controlling a knife was no problem, but controlling a 20 pound ball of metal was extremely difficult. which made your quirk almost completely useless here. Doing a running exercise, like you were doing now, there is little to nothing you could do with your quirk. The only times that your quirk would actually be useful, was during rescue missions or during an attack with multiple heroes in a big city with a lot of metal that you could touch. But that wasn't the case, and you hated it.

As you sat in the corner, trying desperately not to show your tears, you felt a gust of air as you looked up, only to be met with red wings.

“Are you…Ok?”

You never noticed how pretty his eyes were, the honey color’s made his features look so much softer.

After a few minutes, you realized he was still waiting for you to answer.

And for whatever reason, you felt your whole face becoming hot.

“I’m fine.” You said all too quickly.

He raises a bushy eyebrow at you, his face quizzical. “If you’re sure, but we are partners.”

You rolled your eyes.

You two were never truly partners. In this compound, there was only yourself to be concerned with.

“Stop pitying me, I can help myself.”

He smirked, “You say as if you’re not on the ground as we speak.”

You felt your face heating up again as you sprang to your feet, your eyes quickly narrowed, trying your best to seem composed.

“Why did you come back for me?”

But Keigo just shrugged, “Saw someone in need of help.”

That was the last straw.

You angrily stomped away. Who was he to judge you? Who was he to act like some hero? You knew he was the commission's golden boy, they loved him, he was their best weapon.

And you knew he was bright enough to know that as well. Although he never got any special treatment, you could tell by the way they trained him, how they paid more attention to his abilities and not so much the other’s.

Including you.

You felt something pull at you, something tugging you back.

You turned to see- a feather?

“Hey wait a sec,” Keigo said, “I wanna ask you something.”

Your face hardened, you two should be getting back to training soon, you knew the instructor would most likely yell at the two of you for falling too much behind.

“Ask your question and let's go,” you said, huffing.

“Do you want to be friends?”

The question caught you so off guard, causing you to stumble over a rock in front of you.

You whiped back to him, your eyes widen as you realized he was completely serious.

“Wha- friends? What the hell are you on about? There are no friends here, that's an idiot's dream.”

But Keigo only shrugged, “Well, then I guess I’m an idiot.”

You stared back at him, a look of pure disbelief written on your face.

Was he insane? Having friends here was almost imposible. The commission made sure of that, pitting you two against eachother, comparing you to one another, they made it so you would fight amongst yourselves.

“Why would you want to be friends with me?” You asked, your voice barely a whisper.

But he just shrugged, “Because I'm curious about you, and that crousity makes me want to befriend you.”

You stilled, thinking and thinking till your brain hurts.

“Look, you don’t have to say anything right now, I know I probably caught you off guard, and if you don’t want to, I understand… I think-I think I’m just lonely.”

You pursed your lips, still thinking it over in your mind before you grabbed his hand.

“Look, I’ll think about it, but first, let's get this race over with.”

Keigo smiled, blushing a bit as you two took off, hoping you two would becoming good friends.

. . .

And as time went on, you two did, in fact, become the best of friends.

By the time you were both teens, you and Keigo (or Hawks as his hero name) became the commissions pride and joy.

Although you were always so surprised that they didn’t want to through you out, Keigo was so much better than you, and you had fallen much behind him.

Keigo was faster, smarter and stronger, you knew that, you knew that all to well.

But, the commission never removed you, you continued to train to become a hero, right besides Keigo. A part of you wondered if maybe you were only kept on because of Keigo, maybe the commission saw how close you two were, watching how much you mattered to him, and maybe they thought they could use you to their advantage.

The thought made you shiver, mostly due to the fact that it wasn’t impossible, and more than likely.

One night, as you and Keigo lay under the stars on the roof of the commission's building, watching the night sky above.

Suddenly, Hawks turned to you, “Hey Y/N,” he said, “can I ask you something?”

You nodded your head, feeling your heart flutter.

“Do you....do you want to become a hero with me?”

You smiled, “Isn't that the whole reason we’re here? To become heroes?”

But Keigo just shook his head, “No I mean...what do you want to do? With your life?”

You took a pause, you’ve never really thought about it all that much. What did you want to do with your life? You’ve always just done what others have told you to do, always choosing to follow others rather than yourself.

You realized you had never thought about it before, never taking into consideration your feelings, you just worked to survive.

“...I don’t know.”

You hated saying it, it felt like such a childish thing to admit, especially with Keigo. Keigo, who’s figured out his life goal already. Keigo, who’s living out his dream. Keigo, who has most of his life planned out.

“I mean- I guess I’m not used to choosing for myself, you know? I’m not sure how to go about… figuring out my life without someone telling me how to live it first.”

But Keigo just nodded, “No, that makes sense, I mean, you’ve lived here most of your life, you’ve worked to become a hero, but that's really only because you were taught to be one. It’s ok to not know what you want out of life, and don’t worry, I’ll be here to support you, Y/N.”

Keigo turned to you, a smile plastered on his face.

That beautiful, amazing, breathtaking smile.

You felt your face become flushed, and you sat up quickly so as to not have Keigo notice.

“Yeah well- thanks,” you said softly.

But Keigo just laughed, “Don’t worry about it dove.”

. . .

Years later, and Hawks had become the number two pro hero. And you hadn’t done too badly yourself, coming in at the number eleventh spot.

You didn’t mind being behind Hawks, in fact, you found yourself becoming a bit proud of yourself because of how far you had made it.

Right now, you were busy on portal, watching citizens go about their day on a rooftop above.

You watched closely, wondering what kind of life you could have been living if you had never chosen to be a hero, wondering if you too, would have been walking on that very same street as some other hero observed you from afar.

Somedays you found yourself wondering if the hero commission hadn’t taken you away, had let you lived your life for yourself, what would you do? Who would you become?

You wondered if you would have met Keigo as well, or if that would only work if you had been with the hero commission.

Maybe in that universe, you two could finally be together.

It happened a while ago, when you figured out your true feelings for Hawks. Although, maybe you always had feelings for him, since you were little kids. But, you had feelings for him had began to bubble over, you found yourself wanting to spend more time with him, wanted to keep him to yourself. But you would never act on these feelings, you knew better.

Keigo Takami would never be yours, not in a million years.

You let out a sigh, just as you heard boots hit the ground behind you.

“Miss me,” a familiar voice asked.

Even though you had known Hawks since you two were kids, you were always caught off guard by those dazzling eyes, the honey gold color swirling around as he stared down at you, pinning you to your spot on the roof.

You smiled, “Hawks, I just saw you.”

He shrugged, “So? I still missed you in that time.”

You rolled your eyes, “Did you come here to bother me or do you actually have a reason to be here?”

His hands flew to his chest, dramatically saying, “Oh angel, how you wound my poor heart.”

You giggled, “Aw Hawks, always the flare for the dramatic.”

He smiled, but then his eyes got serious, “But I do need your help with something, a mission not too far from here.”

Watching Hawks in action was like watching an artist at work, he was careful, skillful, even downright majestic. He took care in his work, he worked quickly and efficiently, like a well-oiled machine.

And, not to sound too cocky, you two made a pretty good team. And considering you two were very close friends, you vehemently enjoyed working with him.

Although, maybe it was cuz you also had a little bit of a crush on him.

Your face felt flushed at the thought, but before you could think your mouth had already said yes.

“Oh? Are you just agreeing so you can spend time with me, little dove,” Hawks smiled teasingly.

He had a habit of doing this, it was a little game he would play on you. teasing was so fun for him, but he didn’t realize how it gave you such butterflies.

Luckily though, although you did have feelings for him, you learned how to push them away for situations like this.

You scoffed, “Hawks, would you just give me the rundown. Or do I have to call the commission myself?”

He put his hands up, “Wow there chicky, no need to get antsy, I’ll explain everything, ok?”

He told you about the mission, nothing to fancy, in fact, it was quite easy.

Some of his sidekicks had noticed some suspicious activity near a specific location near U.A that the commission wanted to be checked out. They had said that they didn’t want another attack to happen yet again to the school.

On the outside, it might have seemed like the commission gave a shit about the kids in U.A, but you knew better. They just wanted to look good, and right now, this was the best way to do that.

“So basically, if we do see any suspicious activity, we’re allowed to bring anyone in there for questioning, and if worst comes to worst, we have orders to use force.”

You nodded, sounded just like a normal mission for the two of you, should be no p.

“Alright,” you said, “Sounds easy enough. Should we head over now? How will I get there?”

But Hawks seemed to be one step ahead of you.

He held out his hand, a smirk plastered on his dazzling face, “Just hold on to me, sweetheart.”

. . .

You’ve flown with Hawks before, considering how close you two were it was understandable that he would have offered a number of times.

But still, it Always made you so giddy.

The way he held you, so secure in his arms, his face inches away from you. And that gleam in his eyes, it always felt like it was only you and him in that moment, only you two in the entire sky. And each time, it made your heart shudder.

“You ok there, dove,” Hawks asked in your ear.

You jumped a little, surprised by his words. You realized you had begun spacing out while looking directly at him.

You composed yourself, “Just keep flyin’ bird brain. I’m just thinking.”

You could almost feel his smirk, “Thinking? Thinking of what, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Drop it Hawks.”

“Oh,” he said, his tone mischievous, “just like I can drop you?”

Just then, you felt Hawks serve mid-air.

“KEIGO,” you shouted, not even thinking.

But Hawks had regained his hold on you, the prank only lasting for a second.

He laughed, his chest shaking, “You should have seen your face, Chicky! Ha! That was funny!”

But you would disagree, “I swear to God, Hawks, I’ll punch you when we land.”

But you thought for a second, “Sorry I called you your name...so loud.”

Keigo didn’t really like his name, opting to be called ‘Hawks’ instead.

But you knew why he preferred his new name instead. Because of his past.

Keigo was a kid left in the dirt, left and discarded, a remnant of a past that wasn’t so pleasant. You knew that thinking about it only brought pain to him, and saying his name out loud would only remind him of a past he would rather soon forget.

And the name ‘Hawks’ had marked the beginning of a new life for him. It was a way for him to move on past that old life, a way for him to become the best version of himself.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

“It’s ok… I don’t think anyone heard,” Hawks said.

His grip on you seemed to be tighter, more secure.

“And also, you know I would never drop you, right? I could never hurt you, ever.”

You rolled your eyes, “That’s so cheesy. Just don’t drop me and it’s fine.”

. . .

The place wasn’t too bad.

It was an old supply garage, there were about four people from what you could see.

It was definitely near U.A, you could see a clear view to the school, although it was far, it definitely had a vantage point. You could see why this could be a problem, and your brain hurt thinking about what villainous thing they could be planning.

You could hear the guy closest to you, it was a bit hard but you honed your ears.

“So, you all have everything,” a man asked in a scratchy rough voice.

“Yeah,” one of the others said, “everything's here, make sure to give it to Shigaraki with our gratitude.”

You looked over at Hawks, but his eyes were trained on the villains, his black pupils sharpening and watching their every move, before he nodded, signaling to move out.

And then, everything happened in a flash.

Hawks, as always, moved fast and quick, and you come up behind him.

Hawks grabbed one of the men, and held back the other two with his feathers, leaving only you and the two others.

You pulled out your handy metal staff, preparing yourself to bend it to your will.

But you never got the chance.

One of the men smirked a gun in his hand. The other behind him, activating what looked like an ice quirk.

And before you could think, you felt your feet being Frozen down to the hard metal floor of the garage.

“What the hell,” you mutter to yourself.

you tried your best to wiggle your way out of it, but you saw no way to free yourself from your icey binds.

Luckily, with your fast thinking, you grabbed the metal staff, shaping it to hit one of the men square in the jaw, making him drop his weapon.

the other one was taken aback, a perfect opening for your staff to hit him in the face.

But your feet were still frozen to the floor, and a few whacks to the felons was not going to be enough to take them down.

You racked your brain, Hawks was too far away, and there was no way you could get out of the ice on your own.

You brought your metal stuff back, using it to break the ice on your feet. Just as the men were getting back up.

You ran over, preparing to hit one of the men right in the face, a blow big enough to knock them out.

But you never got the chance.

The other man tackled you to the floor, your back hitting the ground.

“Not so tough now, are you, little hero.”

You looked over at Keigo, but there was no use. He was too busy fighting his own battle, and you knew it wasn't fair to rely on him.

So, with all your strength you pushed the man off. Using the metal floor to help you.

Just then, an idea occurred to you. It was risky, but it could work.

You knew that Keigo was far enough for it to work, it wouldn’t hurt him, but the only problem was it wouldn’t trap the two villains he was fighting.

But, considering he was the number two hero, you knew he would be just fine. You trusted him in that.

The ground beneath you is made of metal, you could feel it beneath your feet. You could also feel the two men running towards you.

You dodged their initial attacks, but you knew that they would soon overpower you. You also knew that you couldn't kill them, but you could hurt them.

So your best bet was to trap them, and yourself, before backup came.

You hit your palm against the floor, willing it to your mind. It was a long stretch, and you could feel the strain on your body. The toll that it was taking was immediate, your muscles felt tired, your brain even felt foggy for a few minutes, but you kept going.

You made sure that the ground collapsed, but it wouldn't hurt anybody.

You were not expecting, however, for the ceiling to collapse along with it.

There must have been a support beam on the ground as well that you had taken down with the floor, causing the ceiling to come down.

You looked up, seeing the last moment as the ceiling collapsed on you.

. . .

Hawks hated hospitals.

The smell, the people, the pain. He hated it all, but you were the one in the hospital, so of course, he needed to come.

The days after the accident had been hard, to say the least.

Keigo just remembered watching as the rooftop collapsed, watching your bruised body go along with it.

He remembered screaming your name too, yelling and willing all his feathers to help you, to get you out.

He remembered his heart racing and beating so hard in his chest, he remembered his eyes, tears swelling up as his breath ran ragged.

He didn’t even care about the villains, he had caught the two he had been fighting already, but he didn’t care. He needed to get you out, he needed to make sure you were ok.

After digging for what felt like an eternity, there you were, bruised and bloody. But you were breathing, and he held you close, his tears dripping over your cheeks.

He felt his heartbreak, he couldn't stand the sight of you being hurt, he couldn't stand the thought that he had something to do with it.

He wanted you to wake up, he wanted you to wake up so badly it hurt. For you to look up, and teased him about crying. He wanted nothing more than to apologize over and over, for making his friend suffer, even if it was unintentional.

He knew he could never forgive himself, and he knew he could never make it up to you.

Keigo knew you were in bad shape, so he called the ambulance to take you to the hospital. He was there with you the whole way, watching you, helping in any way he could.

He felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest, watching as your fragile body was rolled away to the special care unit of the hospital, as the doctors told him he couldn’t come in with you.

“Mr. Hawks,” a voice said in front of him.

He flinched.

Hawks wasn’t someone who was easily startled, seeing as he had years of training, but his mind was so all over the place. Worrying and wondering if you were ok, hoping and praying to god everything would be ok.

He couldn’t lose you, and he realized that only now.

If he lost you, how would he even be able to function? You were everything to him, his friend (if he was being truthful, his only true friend) , his rock, the person he could trust for support and help.

To be honest, if he lived in a world without you, he really wouldn’t know what to do…

“Sir?”

He snapped back to reality, his eyes looking up at the doctors.

“Sorry,” he sighed, “I think I’m just a bit off my game today, you’ll have to excuse my behavior. But what were you saying, sir?”

“Well, L/N Y/N has sustained some pretty severe injuries, such as bruising of the sides and hips, and a broken leg,” Hawks sucked in a breath, “We know how to treat it, of course, but Y/N will need much recovery time. That being said, Y/N seems to not have any family or emergency contacts but you. If it’s ok with you, would you be willing to visit as well as look over Y/N in the recovery period?”

Hawks quickly agreed, “Anything doctor, anything you need or Y/N needs...anything at all.”

The doctor smiled at him, “Thank you, Mr. Hawks, unfortunately though, Y/N needs a bit more time alone, but when we deem it ok, you can come back for a visit.”

Hawks felt his shoulders slump, he knew it was selfish, but he had hoped to see you again, to apologize for putting you in that piston, he felt horrible.

The mission wasn't supposed to go like that at all, it was supposed to be a swift and easy fight. It was really just supposed to be the four guys with easy quirks, and they were all supposed to be an easy fight.

Hawks had learned about the hideout in front of U.A a while ago, when he learned it was also a part of the ledge, he went right to Dabi.

“Are you insane,” he had said, “someone will catch you, and personally, I can’t stand by and let you attack those kids.”

“Oh?” Dabi smirked, “And how will you stop us? You’re a part of the league now, bird boy, and we need this lookout, so just shut up already.”

Keigo huffed, “I can’t let you do that, that’s right by my portal area, my bosses will get suspicious, and I look bad enough as it is. I haven’t brought anyone from the league in, soon someone will put two-in-two together.”

It was a lie of course, his bosses knew exactly why he couldn't bring in anyone from the league, they had assigned the mission after all.

But the problem didn't lie with his bosses, it lay with the other Heroes and the public eye. The other hero’s had started to whisper to each other, wondering why the Hawks hadn’t brought in anyone from the notorious League of villains yet. He heard their whispers, and it made him uneasy. He knew if he didn't act soon, they would just grow more and more suspicious. As for the public eye, he couldn't let his image slide, he had to figure out a solution, and this would be the perfect way to do so.

Dabi pondered the idea, toying with Hawks’ growing anticipation, like a cat pawing at a helpless bird.

“Alright, I suppose we can make that work.”

And so, a plan was formed.

Keigo was to swiftly take the four men in for questioning. Dabi had arranged for it so all vital information was to be learned from the lookouts, and then Hawks could swoop in and go in fighting. The other four men would have no idea what was going on, so it looked like the real deal.

They had set up specific times and dates to make sure they would take the men and the lookout down, that way the league wouldn’t lose any vital information.

“I’ll tell you when, don’t start till I tell you,” Dabi had said, “or else there will be problems.”

And Hawks had done as he was told, he waited for Dabi to give him the all-clear, and went in.

But you getting hurt was never a part of the plan.

Keigo felt guilt clawing at his chest. How did he get like this? He was supposed to be the one to protect you, to make sure that you were always okay.

But it seemed like he was the one who got you hurt.

His guilt was suddenly replaced by anger, it made him ball his fist.

Those men were supposed to be easy to take down, they were supposed to be simple to deal with, but even Keigo had difficulty defeating them all on his own.

This was an error on his part, he knew that, but he also couldn’t help but simultaneously blame Dabi as well.

It was his fault that he hadn’t warned Keigo about the strength of the men.

Keigo was going to make him pay….

. . .

Dabi’s head hit the wall with a loud thud, Keigo’s angry eyes boring into him.

“I should kill you right here, right now.”

Dabi laughed, “Look, it wasn’t my fault your little partner couldn’t handle a few guys, ain't they supposed to be a hero? Shouldn’t they be able to help themselves?”

Dabi’s twisted smile made Keigo see red.

“I swear Dabi-”

“The league will come after you, you know that.”

Keigo felt his hands shake with rage, his fingers wrinkling Dabis' shirt.

“What were they to you? You seem pretty upset there, birdy. Maybe….your lover?”

A feather sharpened at Dabi’s neck, Keigo’s fury never leaving his body.

“Say one more goddamn word and I swear to god I'll kill you.”

“Look,” Dabi said, “I didn't know how strong those guys were, I thought that you'd be able to take ‘em down pretty easily. But I guess we just gave ‘em more training than I thought. That's all. Nothing I could have done about it, and nothing you could have done about it. You should know that stuff like this is inevitable, shit is bound to go wrong.”

Keigo released him, his eyes still boring into Dabi’s.

“If I figure out you had some sort of part in this-”

“Yeah yeah, you’ll kill me. I get it.”

Keigo stormed off, walking away from Dabi.

Keigo wanted nothing more than to beat the crap out of someone, anyone, he just wanted someone to blame, someone to feel the way he felt.

The fact that you were in pain only made it worse.

What was he to do now? He couldn’t go home, he would only be able to think about you, only be able to think about your laugh, your eyes, your lips….

He shook his head. Why was he thinking of something like that? And at a time like this? You were...his friend.

But that thought made his heart sink. Like that thought had filled him with dread.

He sighed, shaking his head, this wasn’t about him, it was about you, it was about helping you. Not thinking about his feelings. Or lack thereof.

He felt his phone ring in his back pocket, just before he was leaving.

Looking at the number, he realized it was the doctor's office that was calling.

Without even thinking he picked up, “Hello?”

“Hello Mr. Hawks, we just wanted to ask if you would want to come in and see the patient L/N Y/N, they have woken up. So if you would like to see them-”

“Yes!” Keigo said, a bit too excitedly, “Sorry- about the interruption- but yes I would like to see them.”

“Alright Mr. Hawks, please come whenever you can, they’ve been asking for you.”

. . .

Hawks had never flown so fast, rushing so fast in order to see you, needed to see you.

When he finally got there, he rushed in, finding the receptionist to find your room.

“They’re in room 236 sir-”

But he cut her off, adrenaline pumping through his body.

“Ok, thank you so much.”

Finding your room was easy, and yet, he found himself outside your room, dreading to go in.

How could he face you? How could he apologize? How could he look you in the eye, see what happened to you, and be able to talk to you.

He ran a hand down his face, why was this so hard? He’s taken down many many villains before, and he had never felt as anxious as he did now?

“...Hawks?”

He jumped, he actually jumped.

There you were, standing, only a few inches away from his face, his eyes widened and he could feel his whole body becoming hot.

Why did he suddenly become like this around you? His heart felt like it was on fire, his whole body felt strange.

But your face, it looked so stunning, that for a moment he couldn’t feel his lungs.

“Are you...ok?” He was surprised that his voice finally managed to work.

You blinked, “Yeah, I’m ok. What about you, though? Your face is all red. Do have a fever or something? I can call a doctor.”

“No no,” he sighed, “just...feeling weird I suppose.”

He felt the redness travel from his cheeks all the way up to his ears, “I-I’m fine, really, don't worry about me, I'm actually here to see you.”

You smiled, gazing up at him, “Aww, you can see lil’ old me? How thoughtful.”

You both walked into your room, and Hawks watched as you lay down on the bed.

The hospital room was nothing special, a state-of-the-art hospital room, similar to one's that Hawks had been in many times. Being a hero always came with getting hurt, but seeing you in this condition, made his heart squeeze.

if he could, he would go back in time and figure out a way so that he could be in this situation, not you. You didn't deserve it, you have done nothing but help him, and this is how he repaid you? He felt sick with guilt.

“Hawks?” You said.

He snapped up, like coming back from a bad dream.

But you just laughed your sweet, kind laugh.

Hawks wanted to hear it again, one more time he wanted to hear you laugh like that, it made him feel like everything was drifting away from him like it was just you and him in this entire world.

“You’re totally out of it! What’s gotten into you,” You said, a smile still plastered on your face.

“Sorry, just thinkin’.”

“Yeah well you must be thinking a little too hard there, are you okay? Do you want to sit down? Something's obviously bothering you, you can tell me.”

but hawks just side, “I don’t know, I don’t want you to be upset with me.”

But you just smiled up at him, “Hawks, nothing in this world could make me upset with you.”

And so he told you, about the league, about the secrets he's been hiding from you. It felt good, it felt good to finally confide in someone, it felt like a weight being lifted off his shoulders. he felt at ease, talking to you like you were the only person who would ever understand. And you probably were.

You listened to him, you listened as he told you about what happened, about how sorry he felt, you didn't blame him for what happened, You just listened. You listened and listened and listened.

So when he finally finished, he was scared of what you would say.

“...I’m sorry,” he said.

“Why are you sorry, Hawks you didn’t do anything wrong.”

He looked up at you, “B-but I got you hurt-”

“That’s not your fault though, you had a mission to follow.”

“But I should have never involved you.”

“I'm glad you did, it could have been you that would have gotten hurt,” you said, smiling.

But he just tsked, “It would have been better if it was me, I can’t stand to see you like this, you know.”

Your hands went to his cheeks, bringing his face closer, “And I wouldn’t be able to see you like this either, I would have blamed myself. I’m glad I came with you, even if it meant I got hurt in the process. I care about you, Hawks.”

Keigo couldn’t breathe, you were so close, your lips an inch away.

“Keigo.”

Your eyes widened, “What?”

“I want you to call me Keigo when we’re alone from now on, I...I like when you say it.”

You paused for a moment, and then burst out laughing, “Where did this come from?”

His face went red, “I-I don’t know, just kinda been thinking about it I guess.”

You giggled a bit before saying, “Ok, I mean, if that’s what you want. Y’know, you’ve been acting strange Haw-Keigo,” you corrected, “are you sure everything's ok?”

There it was again, the pitter-batter in his heart, the nervousness in his stomach.

Something was wrong, but he didn’t know how to say it.

He didn’t know how he would even categorize the way he was feeling, he couldn't explain it to himself, much less to you.

“I’m fine, just...overwhelmed I guess.”

He shook his head, “But I should be asking how you are, you're the one in the hospital, not me. Stop worrying, how are you, how are you feeling? What do you need me to do? I'll be here to help you, no matter what.”

You rolled your eyes, “Eventually you’ll have to go home, and I’m totally fine, Keigo.”

By the mention of his name, he couldn’t help but feel his heart squeeze.

“R-right, well, can I just..stay here. With you? Till you get better?”

You smiled, “Of course.”

. . .

While you were in the hospital, Keigo stayed by your side. He never left you, he cared for you, watched over for you, and was so understanding.

It only made your feelings for him deeper, and you were loath to admit that you enjoyed it.

You enjoyed watching him fawn over you, knowing that he was close to you. You two would talk for hours, about anything, and you loved it. You loved feeling him near you, watching his eyes soften and the stupid silly quirk of his smile. You felt warm inside, you felt so at peace with him at your side.

You knew it was selfish, but you couldn't help loving how long you were spending with him.

But, it all came to an end, and you had to go home.

To your surprise, Keigo offered you to stay with him for a little bit.

Just till you get back on your feet,” he said.

Your heart leaped at the opportunity, sharing a house with the guy you had a crush on for years? It felt like you were a lovesick teenager again. Although, you would always be lovesick when it came to Keigo.

At Keigo’s house, he was nothing but polite to you. Although, a bit too polite.

For all his flirting, for all his suave charm, he was never really like that with you. He was just normal, keeping to himself in the house, but always being able to hang out with you or do anything with you if you wanted.

And yet, you could feel the nervousness oozing off of him, like he wanted to say something, but was holding himself back.

Like something was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t get it out.

It, intern, made you just as nervous.

Were you being a nuisance? Did you say something to upset him? A million thoughts running through your head, and you are worried about all of them.

The last thing that you would ever want to do would be to upset Keigo, but you couldn’t figure out what was wrong.

Maybe he felt bad about the accident?

You sucked in a breath, that had to be it. He felt bad, and therefore, was nervous around you.

You have to confront him, you thought, you had to clear the air so you would both feel better.

You decided to wait till tomorrow morning, not wanting to scare or embarrass him well you could tell he was so nervous.

. . .

“Keigo,” you said, a waver in your voice showing how nervous you were.

“Hm?” Keigo looked up from his phone, his honey-colored irises landing on you, only serving to make you more anxious.

You took a deep breath, “I wanna talk to you about something. and it's pretty important, so I'd appreciate it if you could listen till the end.”

Keigo sat up, “What, am I in trouble or something?” He said in a teasing, yet nervous way.

“No,” you sighed, “But I just really need to talk to you about something.”

You took one moment more to collect yourself before speaking, “We've known each other for a long time, we've known each other since we were little kids when we were both put into the commission's program and since we were both made heroes. So you should know, that I know when you're upset.”

You saw Keigo twitch in his chair, but you continued.

“You've been nervous ever since the hospital, maybe even nervous in the hospital. And I don't know what's going on with you. I... I don't know if it was something that I did, or if it was something that happened, but I'm here for you. And I don't like it that you keep this a secret from me. I consider you to be one of my best friends, and I want you to know that you can trust me. No matter what happens, I'll still always love you. Nothing will ever change that,” a smile pulled at your lips as you said your last sentence.

It was silent for a few moments, the air between you too felt heavy and suffocating.

Finally, Keigo spoke, “Y/N, I want to tell you something, but... I'm not sure how you’ll react.”

You tried to speak up again, but Keigo cut you off.

“I know that you're going to say that nothing can ever come between us, and I do believe you. But... something came up and I just don't know how to deal with it. You mean so much to me, and losing your friendship is my worst nightmare. And I guess…. I just got so scared of losing you that I just didn't think about anything else. I'm sorry.”

Your face contorted into one of confusion, “Keigo, I’m not sure what you mean? What are you talking about? What came up?”

But Keigo just sighed, “Y/n I...I think I’m in love with you.”

You felt your heart stop, your eyes widened as your brain was racing.

What did you say? No... that couldn't be right.

Keigo Takami could not be in love with you, he just wouldn't. You had accepted that a long time ago, you knew that he would never have the same feelings that you had for him. You knew that, so what was going on?

“I...I’m sorry?”

Keigo’s face turned a bright shade of pink, “I-I think I’m in love with you. I’m sorry to spring this on you so suddenly, I know it must be a lot to take in, if you’re uncomfortable being here with me feel free to leave. I completely understand-”

But your lips stopped his words, your body pressed firmly to his.

He was started by the kiss at first, but soon, his body and mind became muddled, hands wrapped around your waist as he tasted your lips. It felt intoxicating.

Before you knew it, your hips were straddling him, keeping him locked in his chair. But Keigo wasn’t complaining.

Your lips tangled with one another as moans escaped both of you, your hands unable to leave each other's bodies.

Your hands traveled down his chest, even ripping open the button-down he was wearing, showing his abs and rippling muscles.

“Y/N..” Keigo said, his voice hoarse.

When you looked back up at him, his eyes were narrowed, slanted, and staring you down. But they had a softness to them, one that made your heart flutter.

“Keigo… god you have no idea how much I love you,” you said.

If this was a dream, you never wanted to wake up.

Keigo smirked, “‘s that so babe? Well, I plan to show you just how much I love you tonight.”

His lips attached to the column of your throat, kissing and nipping lightly at the skin. His hands roaming up and down your body made you feel as though you were on fire. His calloused hands stroked your back, making you arch into him.

“K-Keigo,” you moaned.

But he just hummed into your skin, his brain turning to mush, only able to think about how much pleasure he could give you, how much love he wanted to show you.

“Keigo, I love you,” you whispered into the shell of his ear.

Keigo groaned, still occupied with your neck, but pulled his lips away in order to say; “I’m glad,” and smiled at you.

You returned his smile before your lips found his again.

It would be a very long night.

[skylarmoon71]

Harry Wells x Angel Reader- Oneshot (Flash)

"Are you shitting me!" Cisco yelled.

Cisco, Barry and Caitlin were currently locked in the pipeline. The meta responsible grinning at them. 

"You really shouldn't be so trusting. " 

The female snickered, waving the meta cuffs in her hands. Harry handcuffed at the side. He was pulling against his restraints angrily.

"Once again you've failed to keep our security up to mark Ramon."

"Not exactly the time for a lecture don't you think Harry!"

It was only a matter of time before Iris or even Joe realized something was wrong. The alert had already been sent out. What they didn't account for was you skating into the room. The urgency is clear on your face. You must have gotten the notification.

"Guys!!"

This particular meta was sporting super strength.

"And who is this, another member of team failure."

"Hey!" Cisco protests.

Dangling the power dampeners in her hands, she smiles at you. "If you're nice and obedient I just might let your friends stay in one piece. Now be a good girl and come here."

"(Y/N) get out of here!" Barry orders. You out of all of them did not have the advantage of being a meta. You did have something else however.

Something you hoped you'd never have to reveal to them. The situation right now though, it wasn't looking good. You weren't exactly sure just what this woman was after, but it was obvious you couldn't let her have it.

She moved closer, swinging a fist. You duck, kicking her in the stomach. Her body goes flying into the opposite wall. The force of your kick knocks her out completely, her body laying still on the floor. Harry's mouth falls open, stunned. You just kneel, bending the metal at his wrist so he can break free. He does, eyes never leaving you. Caitlin and the gang are still partially star struck. You just rub your arm nervously.

"I guess we have a lot to talk about. "

"You think!"

Today would be longer than expected.

~~~~

"Let me get this straight this whole time you've been a metahuman. Why didn't you tell us?" Cisco looks a bit hurt.

"I wasn't trying to keep it from you I just, I didn't know how to go about telling you. Cisco...I'm not a metahuman."

"Pardon?"

"I'm..well I've always been, you know. An angel."

"Angel as in, you're a really nice person or, like an actual winged flying celestial being?"

"The second one."

"This is...something." Caitlin mumbles. You knew it would be a lot to process. It's why you'd been doing such a good job at keeping it on the downlow.

"But aren't angels meant to be, up there?" Cisco points to the sky.

"We are usually. Some of us come down every once in a while to study humans. You guys are just really interesting." You try to hide your excitement, because the last thing you want is to make them uncomfortable.

"A-Anyway, I was just checking out some stuff and then well, I started to like it here so I stayed. I liked being around you guys. Amenadiel said it was fine as long as I didn't cause any trouble then I could stay." you gave an awkward smile. Harry is still in a state of shock. So is everyone else.

"Are you saying that you're an...actual angel?" Cisco questions. You nod. With a shrug of your shoulders your wings appear. It's so sudden that they all take a step back. The blue feathers look so beautiful. It spreads all the way out, probably a few inches longer than your arms. You shift, letting them slide back into your shoulder blades. Team Flash is still staring at you.

"Please say something." you plead.

Barry steps closer. "Are..are my parents.." He doesn't have to finish.

"They are." You smile. Barry lets out a soft relieved laugh. "Everyone is." you assure. You're referring to all of their losses, not just Barry's. Caitlin and Cisco appear a bit more relaxed, even a bit happy.

"So..c-can I stay?"

Harry folds his arms. "Of course. With Ramon's lack of intelligence when it comes to security I presume we'll be seeing a lot more criminals walking in and out of here."

You clap your hands together, doing a little happy dance. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" you run over giving Harry a hug, lifting his feet off the ground and his eyes go wide in alarm. You drop him back just as quick. "S-Sorry I, I forget my own strength sometimes." Cisco is snickering from the side.

"If you'd like to keep all your body parts attached I suggest you stay quiet Ramon." That shuts him up. He walks off, muttering about some upgrades. You're still grinning like a child.

"This is gonna be great!"

It felt nice to have everything out in the open.

No secrets. ~~~~

So Team Flash carried on as usual. You really thought things would get weird. It wasn't everyday you found out your friend was an angel. You told them of some of your adventures, and stubborn siblings.

The outcome was more beneficial than anything else. You had no idea it would turn out this well, otherwise you would have said something ages ago. All you really wanted was acceptance, and that's what they gave you. For you though, the person's opinion who meant the most was Harry. Heaven knows you've been crushing on him for ages. You were making your way through Star Labs to that very person now. Coming around the corner, you smile when you see him sitting in his chair, working on another great piece of tech.

"Hey Harry!"

Your usual peppy energy was quite the same as the day you got there. Harry was always curious behind your endless supply of optimism. You were like a ray of light, forever shining over him. Not that he'd admit that to you. He'd already been doing a poor job of keeping his feelings in check. Your true identity just added to the allure. He wasn't sure he could be more in love, then you had to be a freaking angel of all things.

He groaned internally.

"I'm definitely going to hell for some of the dreams I had about her."

Harry doesn't fully acknowledge you, and it's a bit worrying. You were hoping you'd never have to ask the question, but with the way he's been moving around you, you just had to ask .

"Are you afraid of me?"

He pauses, wondering if he heard that right.

"I know things are a bit different now, but I'm still the same person, Harry. I just hope that this doesn't change anything. " You look a bit more guarded, and Harry drops the wrench in his hands, moving from his desk.

Maybe he needed to work on his reactions. He never wanted you to feel like he was afraid, or even angry at you for holding such a secret.

"I'd never be afraid of you. You're one of the few people I trust with my life (Y/N)." Your face lights up.

"Somewhere deep down I always knew there was something extraordinary about you. I suppose now I know why." You press your hand on the table behind you, taken with the way his blue eyes gaze at you. You lower your eyes with a shy giggle.

"W-Well I'm glad! Thanks Harry." you're about to leave. You've said all that you needed to. But he stops right in front of you.

"Harry?"

"Would I get smited if I were to take advantage of this adorable angel?" The back of his hand brushes against your cheek, and you become a little light headed. He cups your face, and you can't produce words. He's close...so close.

"Umm..I.." You're babbling, and it makes Harry smile. He leans in, leaving a soft kiss on your lips, pulling back to gauge your reaction. Your lips are parted, eyes a bit glossed over.

"I think just a peck is still on the border of innocence, don't you agree. " His thumb slides over your plump lips, and he pulls back, about to move away. You grab at his sleeve, your desire clear as day. "One more.." you beg. Harry smirks. "If you insist."

He goes in for another and you sigh in content. Those pink lips of his are every definition of sin. His body is sturdy, taunt, firm. With his arms around you, it's near impossible not to feel everything. His hands have ventured down, and his palm slides up your thigh, hiking up your skirt. You need to regain some type of control on your body. 

With a huff, you pull back to get some oxygen back into your lungs. Harry kisses your cheek, chin, then your neck. You whine, because his hand is so warm against your skin, and his lips are trying to leave a mark everywhere they go. You close your eyes, hands trailing up his neck, gripping at his short dark hair. He responds, using his free hand to lift you onto the table. He still hasn't stopped his assault on your neck. He's driving you mad.

"Angel.."

The whisper topped with his teeth nipping at your neck makes you mewl. You jolt slightly when your wings pop out. The wind and length knocked a few papers over along with a cup that was sitting there. Harry looks up, chuckling under his breath. You blush, covering your face.

"I-I'm sorry."

That was embarrassing.

"Don't be." He doesn't look fazed in the least. Just continues kissing you. You laugh into the kiss, running your hands through his hair. 

"Seems like you got a thing for angels Harry."

"Guilty as charged." He mutters pulling off his shirt.

Some secrets weren't that bad he supposed.

[illyaana]

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Soulmate! au, Mafia! au, Pro Hero! Shoto x quirkless mafia leader! reader, No Specific Gender for Reader, Cursing, Violence

Synopsis: You are a leader of a mafia that had ties with the League of Villains. You declined a transaction with them and planned to leave the scene. Suddenly, heroes surrounded the area and you were captured. Aizawa, Shinsou and Todoroki interrogated you. In the midst of the interrogation, Shoto finds out that you are his soulmate.

How to identify a soulmate: You can communicate with your soulmate by drawing or writing something on your body.

Thanks to @horseanon--simpforall for having this collab! I usually don't do the whole soulmate trope, but it always was nice to read and it was fun to write! Hope you enjoy this compilation of your first times with Shoto! Yes, I love Shoto very much, thank you. Kettle boy is the best boy. ヾ(•ω•`)oヾ(•ω•`)oヾ(•ω•`)o

Warning: This fanfic does mention some graphic things (abuse, suicide, death, etc.) so if you aren't comfortable with it, please don't force yourself.

Blood, blood, blood.

That was your nights. Killing off rogue members, bagging their bodies and collecting their quirks for the mafia you are currently leading.

Yes, you heard that right; stealing their quirks.

Thanks to the technological developments the 'company' you owned, Ahnia Technologies, have made throughout the years, you have managed to steal quirks without having a quirk itself.

All thanks to a small gun that fits in your pocket.

The illegal business of stealing and giving quirks to others since the fall of All for One is completely dominated by your mafia now.

And it all happened under a company that 'promised' the betterment of Japan and the world.

To be fair, you did invent some stuff for the safety of the country, but they worked better in collecting data on people, be it heroes, villains or viligantes.

"Persephone, you need to leave now. Shigaraki is waiting for you," said Toga, fiddling with the knife in her hand.

Ah yes, your villain name; Persephone - The bringer of death.

Your name was known throughout the streets of Musutafu, yet no one really knew how you looked like, thanks to the power of makeup. You never covered the scars you've received throughout the years of villainy. The scars you bore are the scars you wear with pride, along with your Haladie sword and your retractable iron hand claws.

That's all they knew. That was Persephone.

After all, who would think the CEO of Ahnia Technologies would be the leader of Diavolos; the strongest mafia in Japan?

No one knew the sweetheart of the science industry, L/N Y/N, was Persephone, and no one will. Those who knew are long gone - be it by God's hands or yours.

You got up from your seat at the bar, thanking Kurogiri for the Whiskey on the rocks.

Walking towards the inner room, you spotted Dabi leaning against the wall, toying with the staples on his face. Beside him stood Hawks, eyes gawking at you, taking mental notes. In the middle of the room sat Shigaraki Tomura. The sky blue-haired man with scars all over his neck paid close attention to your Haladie sword, blood dripping off of each end.

"Killing spree?" He question, a smug tone ringing off of him.

You turned to him, a smile graced your face. "As always."

He got off his chair and walked towards you, raising his gloved hand to you. You snickered when you saw your company's name written on the wristband. So they do have some money.

"Pleasure to meet you again," he said, slowly taking off the prosthetic hand on his face. You took the gloved hand in yours, shaking it slowly.

"I'll just get straight into it; we need some quirks for these Nomus." Soon came gigantic Nomus, their hands swinging as they bumped into places. The ground shook as they slowly walked in. Their purple skin filled with little holes thanks to all the testing the League of Villains did on them.

"Aren't they strong enough?" you questioned, "Besides, I don't believe they have the mental capacity to use quirks that require the orders from the quirk user itself-"

You were cut off by Shigaraki's ungloved hand touching your iron hand claws. "I just asked for quirks, not your opinion." He said, his red eyes staring dead into yours.

You extended your iron claws, every single one going through Shigaraki's hand. Your empty hand withdrew your Haladie sword and aimed it straight at his throat. You began to smirk, looking at his scared expression.

"If you wanted to fuck up the very thing you spent hours on developing on, be my guest. However, don't drag my fucking business with it," You said, venom dripping off your words.

While you stared at your sword, you spotted a small heart engraved on your wrist.

Your soulmate wanted to cheer you up.

You remembered how badly you wanted to meet your soulmate when you were younger. Your parents smiled as you showed the small things your soulmate did. A little drawing of a smile on your wrist, them drawing a flower...

Then you were brought into the family business.

The happy-go-lucky girl you were back then vanished almost instantly.

The training, the killing sprees, the interrogations - it all erased your humanity.

Yet, the need to meet your soulmate always stayed.

Somehow, they always knew when you were having a bad day and knew just how to make it better.

You were already 24. The usual age you meet your soulmate was 18. You wanted to give up so many times, but the small things they did stopped you every time.

You awoke from your daze the instant you felt a temperature change.

You removed the sword from Shigaraki's throat and retraced the iron blades.

"We're never having business transactions ever again, Shigaraki. Not after this buffoonery of a display you've done today. Consider this a warning; mess with me and you'll be in a casket the next day." You said, leaving the room.

But it was too late.

All the Pro Heroes surrounded the area around the bar. An ice wall was built around both Kurogiri and Toga along with Eraserhead cancelling both their quirks.

On instinct, you ejected one of your blades to hit Aizawa on the cheek, forcing him to drop his stare on Kurogiri and Toga. They never did anything bad to you, they were good people.

"Go, don't worry about me!" You screamed at Kurogiri, knowing he'd try to take you with the rest of the League to safety. He needed to protect them, I can protect myself.

He nodded and proceeded to warp to the smaller room, take the rest of the League members and warp away.

You felt the heroes run towards you. You smirked, knowing that you could easily take them down.

Suddenly, you felt a sharp feather around your neck, slowly digging into your skin.

"You aren't escaping, baby bird," Hawks whispered as he removed your gear, leaving you powerless. You soon felt a needle being pushed into your arm, darkness slowly engulfing you.

You woke up in an interrogation room. Your hands were chained to the table in front of you. The mismatched arrangement of the bricks that had chipped through the years reminding you of your years under your father.

That sick man ruined you.

That sick man ruined your family.

That sick man made you the revolting thing you are now; a fucking villain who killed more lives than a bomb.

You began laughing to yourself. You became this to stay away from the dark room he used to shut you in, yet here you are; in another fucking dark room but with chains now!

What the fuck is my life!?

I- I am just so fucked up, aren't I?

At least I killed that son of a bitch.

At least I burned that fucking house.

At least my mom died before she could see me become this - his masterpiece.

You soon began to write on your arm, hoping your soulmate was awake. "Hey, you awake?"

You soon felt a warm sensation on your arm. "Yeah. You good?"

You chuckled. At least they care. "Nope. I fucked up this time, and pretty badly," you began writing on your upper arm, letting the words earlier slowly fade.

"Well, if you want to vent, you know where to write," they replied with a small smiley-face at the end.

"How was yours?" you asked, directing the conversation to something more positive, hopefully.

"It went great! I finally managed to catch something I really wanted to catch for a long time!" they replied, their writing slowly moving diagonally. At least they had a good day.

Your happy trail of thoughts was interrupted when Brainwasher, Eraserhead and Shoto entered the room. The smile you had turned into a scowl when you saw them, especially Brainwasher.

"Wow Aizawa, is today bring your kid to work day?" you said, teasing the Pro Hero. You knew that Shinsou was the worst person to deal with in an interrogation setting. He could easily control you the minute you respond to him.

'Let's just talk to Aizawa and Todoroki then. If I don't respond to Shinsou, I'll be just fine. Oooh - better yet, just keep quiet,' you thought to yourself as the three heroes proceeded to sit down. 'Messing with them would just make my day better, anyway.'

"Mind telling us who you are, Persephone?" Shoto began, trying to be polite.

"So I am Hades' wife. I am the Goddess of Spring, daughter of Demeter. I am also considered the Harbinger of Death," you said, leaving them annoyed. "I guess you all don't like Greek Mythology!" you said, smiling.

They tried to get you to talk, but every single time they pried, you just kept on laughing, slowly pushing their limits. Shinsou tried getting you to talk to him, but you just stared at Shoto and Aizawa, laughing louder and louder.

"I swear to God, what's the fuck is wrong with you?!" Eraserhead screamed, hitting the metal table.

You were waiting for this question. With a smile, you replied, "Everything."

Aizawa saw something in you with that answer; the unresolved anger you had towards someone. He knew if he hit just the right nerve, you'd spill everything.

"Why? Did Daddy fuck you up?" He said, a smug tone lacing his words. You saw Shinsou and Todoroki turn to face Aizawa with a bewildered expression.

You, however, just stared at him blankly. "How did you know?"

You felt numb. This man just sat beside you for a few minutes, yet he already knew how badly you were fucked up by that fucktard.

"Yes, Daddy fucked me up. He made me kill people at the age of 5. He didn't let me go to school because he wanted me to only kill for him, nothing else. I may be quirkless, but he knew that I would do just the same - actually more - damage a person with a lousy-ass quirk would."

Their eyes widened when you revealed that you were quirkless.

"What? Shocked that a regular person could kill over 20 Pro Heroes with just a bunch of blades?" You said, feeling a smirk slowly forming your face. "It was fun killing that All Might guy. You could say it was payback. After all, that son of a bitch couldn't protect me when he was living so close to me."

You began to laugh more as you saw they began to form tears.

"Oh, that isn't the worse part. The worse part of it all was the torture I went through. Have you ever imagined your 10-year old self hanging on the wall via chains, chains like these," you shook the handcuffs, "All because you couldn't kill a rabbit. Oh yeah, It was a package deal; chains plus 50 whips! " you ended, lifting up your shirt slightly to show the scars you received from it.

"Luckily my mom died before she could see me become like this. She was an angel. When she was around, Dad was actually a nice guy. The mafia was more of a family. We took care of everyone, finances and all." You stood up from your seat and sat on the table examining their faces.

"And now, I have to kill the people who try to run away, all because the elders force me to." You ended, crying.

These thoughts were a river you kept at bay.

You never wanted anyone besides the elders to know.

You were the leader, the pillar.

If you fall, they fall with you.

"I actually liked All Might as a hero, you know," you said through the tears. "He actually played with me, bought me gifts and treated me like the kid I was supposed to be."

You wiped the tears falling from your eyes.

Todoroki stared at your wrist, seeing what your soulmate wrote.

You chuckled, looking at the heterochromatic eyed man. "It was from my soulmate. I never met them, nor will I ever meet them. I guess they would only know who I truly am." You sniffled.

Shoto started to draw on his left arm a small heart with a distinctive flower in the middle.

Soon you felt your left arm tingle and there it was - the exact same heart with the exact same flower.

You stared at him, his eyes softening. "I wished I saved you earlier, but I'll save you now."

You smiled, looking at his determination. However, it was too late.

You've fallen a bit too deep to be saved now.

"Shoto..." you said, a sad smile gracing your lips, "...you can't. I've killed too many to be just signed off with a pardon or time in jail."

He began tearing. Your heart broke at the sight of him breaking down in front of you.

The cheerful man you knew from the years and years of conversations stood in front of you, willing to do whatever it took to get you in his arms - unchained and free - was sobbing. His cold facade long gone, only covered with grief and sorrow.

You, however, felt a warmth in your heart.

You finally got to meet your soulmate.

You finally are happy.

There and then, you knew what you needed to do.

"I'll tell you everything," you looked at Aizawa, "all the dirt I have on the villains and the vigilantes in Musutafu, I'll tell you."

He stared at you, smiling sadly.

"I'll even tell you who I am. In exchange, give me a full day with Shoto with no surveillance. I promise to not run away or do anything of that sort. I'll even take the death penalty I know that was fixed for me." you ended.

Shoto's anger began to boil. You felt it grow, the temperature in the room rapidly increasing.

Before Shoto could say anything, Aizawa agreed.

Shoto fell back on his chair, his hair now dishevelled - red mixing with white. His tear-streaked face now facing yours, taking in what he believed was your face.

"Shoto, could you please get me a towel? I feel a bit dirty... If possible, could you wet it, too?" You asked Shoto, knowing he needed to leave and get some fresh air. He quickly responded with a nod and went out of the room.

The minute he stepped out of the room, you faced Shinsou.

"I'm giving you full permission, Shinsou. Go ahead and see everything. I don't want to tell Shoto all I know. Let me tell you three who I am, at least," you ended with a chuckle.

You felt yourself relax as Shinsou soon entered your consciousness. It didn't feel painful or numb, like how Midoriya described it to Uraraka and Iida. It was as if someone just entered your room and wanted to see the things in it. Maybe it was because you willingly let him do it...

The feeling you had while he was reading your mind was as if you were with your mom in the small swimming pool she rented when you were a kid.

She gripped on your sides as she taught you how to swim, telling you to let the water be your friend and not oppose it.

It was calming... relaxing...

The minute you felt him leave, you felt the control of your body come back to you.

You saw sadness in Shinsou's eyes when he stared back at you. You just smiled and nodded at him, not knowing what to do.

Soon, Aizawa removed your handcuffs. You immediately stretched your wrists, moving your palms in a circular motion.

Shoto came rushing in with a bowl of water, a cloth and a bar of soap. He placed it in front of you and gave you a kiss on your head, leaving you a blushing mess.

He sat back on his chair and faced you, waiting for you to remove the dirt on your face to see your features better.

"Let's get this out of the way, shall we?" you chuckled, dipping the cloth in the water and slowly rubbing your face. You rubbed your hands with the bar of soap and then proceeded to rub the soap in your hands on your face, feeling your scars. After rinsing the soap off, you faced the three men.

"Hi, I am L/N Y/N, also known as Persephone." You looked at them, enjoying the shocked look on their faces.

You saw him begin to tear again. You instinctively got up and hugged him from the back. You began to rub the tears away, stopping any more from falling from his precious face. He began to relax into your touch, slowly placing the back of his head against your collarbone.

"Shoto," you said, turning your face to face him, "In my hand claw, there is a USB in a compartment right beneath the palm area. It contains everything on Ahnia Technologies. The money, the technology yet to be released along with the data on Diavolos. I'm leaving it to you."

"Don't cry, okay? I only have you for a few more hours, no more crying." You said, giving a kiss on his cheek.

"Help the people in Diavolo. Yes, some of them have done extremely bad things, but it was all because of me and my tyrant father," you clarified. "Help them live better lives, okay?"

You felt him give you a nod and you smiled.

You released yourself from the hug, looking at Aizawa. "I believe I can leave now, right?"

Shoto grabbed you by your wrists and ran out of the building. "I am going to make it the best 23 fucking hours of your life."

And it was.

The few hours you spent with Todoroki had been the best hours of your life.

It didn't feel sappy as the stories the elders used to tell you. It felt comfortable and right just to be with him.

The view of him eating cold soba in front of you, you both singing your lungs out to Paramore, you both relaxing at a book cafe - all of it - it felt just comforting and how a home should feel like.

The best part of it all - he could introduce you to his friends since they didn't know you were Persephone.

You hung out with Midoriya, Iida, Ochako, Tsuyu and Momo for 4 whole hours.

They took half the day off - just because Todoroki met his soulmate.

It kept making you think if you were born in a normal family, would have this been your life?

What if you entered a support class and just so happen to meet Todoroki there?

Would your life be like this? Surrounded by a bunch of friends, protecting Musutafu and being helpful to the world you loved?

You were cut off from your train of thought when Uraraka sat beside you. "You know, whenever you both talked to each other when we were in Yuuei, he used to actually giggle reading at your messages. He really wanted to ask for your number and meet up, but he felt he'd be pushing it a bit too far, so he just waited for you to stumble upon you." She said, beaming.

"We really thought he would never meet you, yet here you are! And he scored, man! A tech CEO? Honey, you have money-" You cut Ochaco with your laughter.

"You know he is way richer than me, right?" You said, wiping the tears of joy.

You were brought back to the conversation Uraraka just had with you.

You should've made the first move.

You knew he wouldn't be the one to make the bold moves.

You should've asked him.

You could've had so many dates with him, yet here you are counting down the hours before you get killed.

You felt two arms wrap around you, making you flinch. "You should really stop thinking too hard, Y/N," Shoto said, pressing on the fold formed on your forehead. "The day is too precious for that."

After saying goodbye to his friends, he drove you to his apartment.

To say it was beautiful is an understatement.

There were so many potted plants that enhanced the small gold accents he placed throughout the small apartment. It was the perfect mix of greens with the feel of a modern-day home.

"For one of the richest Japanese people in the world, you have a very small apartment," you said, chuckling. "It's perfect."

For the rest of the day, you both binged on movies, enjoying the feeling of being close to each other.

You played with Todoroki's fingers that were wrapped around your waist. His head was directly on the not of your head. He then pressed his nose on your neck, deeply breathing in your scent, humming softly.

This was all you needed.

Him in your arms and you in his.

In his small, quaint apartment, away from everyone else.

Soon, his phone rang. You looked at the caller ID and you already knew what was going to happen.

Your time is up.

It was time for you to leave for good.

You felt his hesitation to pick up the phone, so you did it for him.

"Hello Aizawa, where should Todoroki and I meet you?" you asked, feeling the grip on your waist tighten.

"Okay, noted. We'll be there soon," you said, ending the call.

You felt your back getting warmer thanks to the tears falling from Shoto's eyes. "I'm not letting you go."

You can't cry now.

You need to be strong.

This isn't the time to succumb to the sadness, Y/N.

You turned your back to face your soulmate. You pressed your forehead and placed your hands on his cheeks. "Todo..."

He didn't reply.

He didn't want to.

"Todo..." you whisper again, your voice slightly shaking.

He puts his hands on yours, his sobs turning into sniffles.

You raised his face to face yours, eyeing his lips. Your thumb grazes on his burn, his eyes immediately closing, enjoying the feeling.

Slowly, you placed your lips on his. In an instant, he responded, pressing his lips on yours. Small sparks emitted from that small contact. Each time his lips devoured yours, you melted even more. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

He wanted to feel you against him as much as he could.

Your hands left his cheeks and your arms moved to the back of his neck. You entangled your fingers in his dual-coloured hair, earning a small groan from him.

You soon pulled away. You placed the pad of your thumb on his lip, enjoying the feeling of it.

"Let me talk, okay?" you said. He soon nodded, knowing you wanted to get some things off your chest.

"Thank you for this, Sho. You gave me everything I could have ever wanted in these few hours, and for that, I am eternally grateful," you said, smiling weakly. "...You wanna know something?"

His eyes widened, focusing solely on you.

"The whole day I wondered if I didn't take over the mafia, how would we collide? Back then, I tried running away so many times. What if I managed to do it?" you started.

"I definitely would've tried out for UA for the support classes. I might have passed and entered 1-H. Maybe you needed to touch up your gear and you would've met me. But knowing how thick-headed we both are, we would've not seen the marks on each other's arms," you both laughed.

"We maybe would've crossed paths in the second year. I most probably would have developed a crush on you and maybe after seeing our marks, we would've begun dating." You said, cupping his cheeks. "Maybe we would be even sharing this very apartment."

"But that's not how our lives worked out. I got caught every single time and eventually gave in. I became the leader of Diavolos and I killed all those people, even the very person who gave me a glimpse of life as a normal kid," you began to tear, "I don't want to live like this anymore, Sho."

"I can't live remembering every single person I killed. I can't live carrying that Haladie blade and iron claw and not want to die almost every second. I can't live in this apartment without giving you all of me when you so easily can," you took a minute to calm yourself down, "I don't want to live anymore, Shoto."

Shoto's face darkened. "So, you're planning to leave me here, after - what - 25 years of waiting for you? You can't be this selfish, Y/N."

You knew that this was selfish.

Heck, anyone would know that this is selfish.

"I need to repent for my sins, Shoto. No community work can suffice for all the villainy I've committed," you ended.

The silence that ensued was deafening.

The sniffles that came from the both of you with the sound the fan gave off were the only sounds to come after.

After a few minutes, Shoto spoke. "All my life, I thought meeting your soulmate was something the Devil wished upon you. My father basically drove my mother to insanity and made my own oldest brother become a villain," he began. "I wish I could say the same about ours, but I can't."

"These few hours were the best fucking hours of my life. Every single moment I had with you is forever engraved in my mind, Y/N. You so easily broke my walls, ever since we were small," he gripped on you tighter, "I will always remember your small words to get me moving, how you'd push me to do more, to talk more and become more social."

"I love you, Y/N, but I need to give you away, right?" he said, looking at you with tear-filled eyes. His eyes begged you to deny the last statement, but your mind was already made up.

You nodded your head and pulled him into a hug.

Soon, you both were in his car, driving to where Aizawa asked to meet up.

Once you reached, you followed Aizawa and left Shoto in the room you were in before.

You got on the electric chair, closing your eyes as you felt the wet sponge being placed on your head.

From afar, you could hear Midoriya and Uraraka shouting at Aizawa to stop whatever he was doing, but Shoto stopped them.

You couldn't hear Shoto's answer when they asked why.

WC: 4406.

Ah, my favourite trope; messed up :'). I hope you enjoyed it! Each of the reblogs and likes is helping this blog grow, so thanks for all the support. Until the next fanfic! <3 First time hitting more than 2k word count so 0.0

[lilsocksiswriting]

A Hitman’s Dirty Little Play Thing

Fandom: Haikyuu

Paring: Hitman!Matsukawa X Assassin!Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Matsukawa are both in the hit for hire business so it’s not uncommon for you to find yourselves fighting one another nor it is uncommon for these fights to end with sex.

Warming: NSFW, Darker Content , no beta, minors DNI

Tags: Knife play, grouping, Degradation, dirty talk,, Daddy kink, Fingering, slight Voyeurism, Creampie

Word Count: 1785

You are an assassin. Matsukawa is a hitman. Because of this, it wasn't at all uncommon for you two to find each other in your current situation. You’re straddled on top of Matsukawa in an empty parking garage with your hands squeezing around his neck as hard as you can.

 You weren't planning on killing the man, not when date night was tomorrow. You just want to make him pass out so that you could make a clean getaway and with Matsukawa’s grip around your wrists getting weaker with each passing second you could tell he wasn't far off from that. You make a rookie mistake, however. It wasn't often that you got to overpower the dark-haired man like this. The power makes you feel giddy and the giddiness makes you lose focus. You don’t react fast enough to the knee ramming into your stomach knocking the breath out of you and throwing you off balance.

Matsukawa pushes you off of him. As you’re gasping for breath he throws you onto your stomach like a rag doll. He grabs your wrist and twists it behind your back then leans his weight into you. It’s not enough to cause you serious pain but enough to make it hard for you to catch your breath and cause an ache in your breasts from being pressed into the ground.

"Aww, you foolish little thing," his breathless voice is coos mockingly in your ear, "Thought you could get the drop on me didn't you."

The struggle you give as a retort has Matsukawa hauling you to your feet and shoving you up against a smooth cement wall. The hitman presses his body against yours trapping you between the cold wall and his warm chest. You moan weakly, feeling his hard-on through his slack poke your lower back. Still being definite you wiggle your ass drawing a low growl from Matsukawa that you can feel rumble in his chest.

"You try anything, and I'll have a knife to your throat before you can make a move you.", he threatens, hot breath rolling across your bare shoulder causing your skin to break out in goosebumps and a shiver of delight to seep down your spin.

Matsukawa softly kisses your shoulder before beginning a cavity search with his free hand. As he goes about removing all the weapons you could hide in such a small, tight dress Matsukawa gropes and squeezes your body. His cock twitches at the little gasps you make whenever his large hand squeeze your breast or pinch your ass through your dress. Once all your weapons have been carelessly discarded far out of your reach Matsukawa dips his hand between your thighs and forces them apart. His fingers find the damp spot that’s soaked through your panties and press into it.

“Mattsun~”, You wine trying to grind against his fingers. Such a needy thing you are and Matsukawa wouldn't have you any other way.

Matsukawa pulls his hand away and pulls the end of your dress up over your hips then whips out a switchblade replacing his fingers with the cool blade. He lightly rubs the blade along your clothed slit. The feather-light touches of something so dangerous sends a thrill through you.

“Your little slut,” Matsukawa says, ”Look at you, I’ve got a knife to your cunt and you’re already sopping wet.

Another needy whimper from you makes him swallow thickly and tighten the grip on his knife. Matsukawa loves to have this kind of control over you and loves it even more seeing how reactive you are to it. When you start to careful to grind down on the knife's edge, craving more friction, he slides the weapon away. He traces the tip over the soft skin of your hips, cutting you away your underwear as he goes about and letting them fall ruined to the ground.

"Now I'm going to let you go off your wrist, but remember what I said,” he reminds you, “I'd hate to have to mark up this pretty body of yours."

You nod and even hold your hands up. Turning to face the hitman Matsukawa has his knife pointed at your chest where his eyes hungry drink in your low-cut dress. Reaching out he runs his fingers along the exposed skin of your collarbone lovingly before he yanks your dress down.  Dilated pupils follow your tits as they flop out with bounce, nipples already beginning to perk up in the cold air.

"Such pretty things.”, Matsukawa praises digging his fingers into the supple flesh of one.

 You can’t help but to relax in the warmth of his hand as he continues to massage your breast. Although you're making such a cute face and your eyes are glazing over in such a way that he thinks you might start drooling,  Matsukawa doesn’t quite like how you’re letting down your guard around a dangerous hitman like himself. with his knife, Matsukawa runs the blade in patterns over and between the valley of your breasts, occasionally tapping your hardened nipples as it passes over them. The presence of the blade against your skin was just enough to further arouse you and make you alert of every little action Matsukawa takes.

"Now," he pats the flat side of his knife against a supple lobe, "here’s what you're going to do for me. You’re gonna set your ass down- and don't you even think about giving me any lip about how cold it is- and you're going to spread your legs nice and wide for daddy so I can see that pretty pussy of yours. Then you're going to use your fingers to stretch yourself nice and good so daddy can bend you in half and use you cunny as my own personal fuck toy, understand little slut?”

"Can't You just fuck me now.", you pout.

“You really have the gull to talk back to me?” to prove his point he drags the blade up and tips your chin back with the pointed tip, ”Besides we know what happened the last time we didn’t prepare you.”

That's right. You ached for days,

“So are you going to be a good little slut for daddy?”

“yes daddy”

You obediently sink down to the ground wincing at the cold cement under your bare ass but don't say a word about it. Matsukawa couches down with bracing one knee on the ground. Even feeling so dirty under his lustful gaze and benign held at knifepoint you don't feel an ounce of shame as you spread your legs and give the hitman a full view of your glistening pussy. You rub around the inner lips collecting slick before easily pushing in two fingers into your sopping heat. Soon though just two digits isn't enough for you, so you add another. By the time you’re stuffing four of them in and out of yourself and curling them so that the drag along with your squishy warmth your panting and wining like a bitch in heat.

“You about ready to cum little slut?”

You nod frantically.

“Then stop. Now.”, Matsukawa orders you in a completely serious voice.

You let out the most pathetic whimper but obey. You pull your hand away leaving you hole you clench around nothing in a need to be filled again. Matsukawa lets out a low curse as he watches strings of your own slick thin out and breaks from the tips of your fingers.

Matsukawa drops the rest of the way onto his knees and grabs your ankle roughly yanking you towards him, putting you on your back. He makes quick work of fishing his erection from his slacks and spreading your legs. The way that he’s staring down at your exposed body taking in every little detail it has to offer with an admiring smile has you suddenly feeling bashful. You look off to the side just to advert your eyes from his expression.

But Matsukawa doesn't like that. He slaps one of your breasts harshly drawing out a pained gasp from you and makes your pussy quiver.

Matsukawa squishes your cheeks with his hand forcing you to look  back at him, “Don't you fucking dare try and act all shy on me now not after you’ve acted like such a dirty little slut.”

You moan at his degrading words and nod. Matsukawa tosses his switchblade aside. It wasn’t needed anymore. He doesn't give you any time to prepare yourself as he grabs under your thighs and pushes them towards your chest. In one fluid thrust, he shoves his thick cock deep inside you. Your breath is knocked out of you again and your back curls uncomfortably against the hard ground. You don't care though because Matsukawa is already fucking you without any remorse like the cold hitman he was known to be. His cock brutally hits your cervix again and again in quick recession abusing your tiny hole and making you choke on your own moans.

“You like that slut?”, he mocks,” You like when daddy fucking your cunny raw?”

“Yes, yes,” You chant breathlessly.

“The Tell me. Tell me how much you like daddy using you.”, he growls.

“ I love it when daddy fucks me,” you whimper desperately, hands clawing at his shoulders and toes curling, “ love it when he uses me like I-I’m nothing but a fuck toy -his fuck toy.” 

“That’s right,” he growls his pace becoming unbearable.

Your eyes blur over with tears and widen, ”Da-addy I’m cumming! Cumming!.”

“That’s it,” Matsukawa encourages digging his fingers into your thighs hard enough to leave marks on his little toy, “ That’s. Daddy’s. Good. Little. Filthy. Slut.”, he prairies you with each sloppy thrust.

A whimper bubbles past your lips and your eyes roll back as you feel Matsukawa‘s cum fill your twitching hole. When’s he’s finished with you Matsukawa unplugs his soft dick and sets back. He watches as immediately a copious amount of creamy liquid starts to leak from your spent hole which puts that soft smile back on his face.

Gingerly, he lays your legs back down and hovers over you. He bushes a few stray strands of hair from your glazed over eyes and starts to make sure you’re ok, ”Hey baby, you good? Anything hurt?”

You shake your head, “Just out of breath, and tired. Can we go back to your place?”

“Why my place? Yours has the bigger tub.”, he reminds you petting your head.

“Yea but yours is closer, and it’s by that pizza joint we like.”

“You want pizza tonight baby?”

You nod,” Please.

Matsukawa kisses your forehead softly, ”Anything you want baby, let me get our things and I’ll help you into the car.”

[wildlyglittering]

The Space Between

I have a few pieces of Nessian fan fiction already pre written so I’m just going to drip feed them into my feed every Sunday. 

Enjoy (I hope!)

***

Cassian left Velaris far later than intended.

He meant to fly at first light but with the previous night’s send-off drinks for the Inner Circle, all due to go their separate ways for the summer, that first light turned into the hot midday sun.

For Cassian, his departure was routine. It was a regular schedule now, this constant flying back and forth between Velaris and the Illyrian mountains. Rhys kept him busy but the camp kept him busier, so much so that at times he was more a creature of the sky then land.

The prior evenings political discussions of Rhys, Feyre and Az’s imminent stay in the Dawn Court was mindless chatter to Cassian’s ears and he tuned them out with political thoughts of his own. How many recruits did the camps have now? Was Devlon training the females? Were the rumours of an uprising true?

All throughout, one thought was stronger than the others.

Nesta.

Always, Nesta.

Between the mountains and Velaris lay the expansive wilderness where Nesta made her home. Part of Cassian’s schedule was to visit her on his flights between places but it had been months since he’d last seen her face.

Distance, he'd once told her, only makes my heart grow fonder. She'd rolled her eyes at the saccharine sentiment but a delightful blush spread on her cheeks which indicated she wasn't as stone-cold as she'd have others believe.

It was a half-truth on his part.

To say he longed for her was an understatement. Nesta occupied his mind continually and she now owned a space in his heart he once didn’t have for anyone. Distance made him yearn but it also made him cautious.

Nesta’s decision to live away from Velaris was something Cassian once thought as an attempt to distance herself from him. She wouldn’t return to the mountains, he understood why, but it was her refusal to come back to Velaris that surprised him as he thought she’d found some peace with the city.

Her refusal hadn’t been about Cassian, he understood that now. There had been an opportunity for her to regain her independence and, though she never expressed it aloud, a way for her to establish a new identity for herself in this world.

She took it.

Despite this, Cassian hoped she would eventually come back with him to Velaris. He hoped that this new version of Nesta was transferable and that she could thrive on the cobbled streets next to the shining river of his city as she had amongst the expanse of wildflowers.

It ate away at him, Nesta, however powerful, out in the nothing all alone. Still, if that thought ate at him than others consumed him, the gnawing set into motion by others he loved.

Will the bond last? Mor asked. It's uncommon for mates to be apart like this and unfair for one mate to deliberately part themselves from the other.

Nesta isn't a wing, he told Mor. Without her physical presence he still functioned and besides, the emotional connection was unbreakable.

I worry about you my friend; Rhys said. If I can't be with Feyre within minutes I don't know how I would bear the day.

Cassian deflected their words with a smile and a wave and clad himself in invisible armour.

He’d landed, finally, although hours later than he wanted. Sweat tricked down his back and face, his leathers clung to the thick muscles of his arms and thighs. The journey was over half a day’s flight from the city but he always made it in less.

The mountain peaks were visible from the wilderness but only barely, appearing so small it looked like an ant could crush them. There was a small forest and stream within walking distance but aside from those and a cottage it was nothing but thick stalked wild flowers for miles, colouring the landscape with pinks and yellows.

It was a combination of summer heat and protection spells which caused the cottage to shimmer.

Cassian had landed a slight distance away, wary of the protection magic that was always a little too keen to exert itself, and wandered through the flowers to the grey stone building ahead. Mor had expressed incredulity that Nesta hadn’t demanded a mansion with servants while Rhys joked, she was too sour to keep them even if she did.

Cassian ground his teeth but said nothing. Nesta’s experiences weren’t his to share, he justified.

Despite the poverty, despite going to bed with an aching belly and fears of starvation.0 the memories Nesta held of small cottages remained untainted. In mansions, she’d been dragged from her bed and forced to watch her sister drown before water then filled her own lungs. In palaces, she was made to recount those events to eager eared strangers. In tents, she listened to the screams of the dying.

It was those places where she’d started to lose piece after piece of herself until nothing remained.

It was this place, this small cottage, where Nesta found herself once more. The old Nesta flared again, a small spark which turned into wildfire.

Cassian let himself in, the latch opening to him easily.

The main living space doubled as kitchen and comfort. An overstuffed sofa sat in front of an oversized hearth with a butcher’s block next to it, complete with mortar and pestle and the fresh herbs Nesta gathered from her garden. Three rooms branched from this one. The first was the bathroom, the second Nesta’s bedroom and the third was empty.

There was no sign of Nesta and a glance through the window towards the garden showed Cassian that Nesta wasn’t there either. It was likely she’d grown impatient of waiting and had wandered to the woods to gather supplies.

Cassian weaved around the stacks of books, one pile fast becoming as tall as himself, to go find her when a heavy clunk of a handle sounded behind him. Nesta appeared from one of the smaller rooms, it just surprised him to see which one it was.

"Hey sweetheart," he drawled, "what were you doing in there?"

Something moved down the bond but Nesta had muted it somehow and Cassian could sense a sheer kinetic energy rumbling outside of his reach. She said nothing but took a deep breath before standing aside, leaving the room behind her open to his view.

***

The third room was no longer empty.

Cassian stood in the middle; every muscle tensed for battle; his wings snapped taut behind him.

Nesta had opened the window to clear the lingering musk and the beginnings of a soft summer breeze drifted in ruffling the delicate lace curtains that now hung from the frame.

The lazy dancing curtains were the only movement in the room. Cassian remaining locked in place with Nesta just as rigid beside him.

His heart started pound on the bones of his ribs, and he imagined it bursting straight out of his chest to land in a bloody heap on the floor.

The walls had been painted a soft yellow, reminding Cassian of the pats of butter served in small dishes when Feyre and Rhys had 'proper company.' The new bookcase and shelves, both empty, were a thick, rich cream.

His pulse beat out a rhythm on the roof of his mouth.

A rocking chair draped with a downy feathered blanket sat in the corner but the most prominent feature, positioned against the wall, stood the crib.

Waiting.

The pulse was behind his eyes now, the objects in his vision dancing as he heard the whispers that travelled down the bond. Nesta hadn't moved but those sharp blue-grey eyes stared at him all the same.

Were his legs always this clumsy? he wondered. Did he often give full control of his body to something else? Cassian was moving but they weren't his feet. He loomed over the crib like a grotesque gargoyle and touched a giant, calloused hand to the wood before reaching in to grasp at the blanket.

These weren't his hands, he decided. His were designed to clutch the handles of blades, to wrap around throats and squeeze until faces turned blue. They weren't meant to touch small blankets embroidered with bees.

I can rip this with both hands, he thought. Turn it into shreds within seconds. I am the Lord of Bloodshed and I tear things apart.

His pulse pounded in his ears now, his tongue feeling like it had engorged in his mouth ready to block his windpipe and choke him like he'd choked many others. Nesta was glaring and throwing her panic at him until he swallowed it down.

His knuckles had turned white clenching the blanket. Cassian envisioned a small body, sleeping and breathing and dreaming in this bed, relying on Cassian's hands to hold it, to keep it safe.

There was no more air in the room, no more breath in his lungs and his ears were filled with the beat of his own heartbeat, and Nesta's, and now one other joining them.

***

The later afternoon sun had dipped and outdoors had cooled significantly which was welcome, the open blue sky more so.

They were in Nesta's small garden, amongst the vegetables and flowers, and yet it wasn't obvious to Cassian how they arrived.

His chest hurt, he remembered that. His lungs were burning like flames had leapt down his throat and scorched everything they touched. He'd been grasping at his skin, digging his nails into the hollow of his throat to claw a way for the air.

Cassian walked out here. He must have. Nesta following.

She stood in front of him, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, the pulse in her wrists jumping. Cassian viewed every beat so clearly from his vantage point on the ground, the solid hard ground where he'd crumbled.

The breeze, the one which had danced around the curtains in the nursery -- dear Mother, the nursery -- was as welcome as a kiss from a long-lost lover as it caressed across his wings.

Come, it sang, fly away. The sky is yours.

Something else was singing, no screaming, down the bond but Cassian pushed it down. Panic had emanated from Nesta, rolling off her in waves and he thought he could handle it. But now, after he fled from the cottage, she was drowning him.

On the surface she appeared ready for battle, her face as sharp as one of Cassian's blades and as deadly. Had she spoken? Her voice was small as though she wasn't close at all but standing miles away, the words travelling through wind and across the mountains.

From their positions, his knees digging in the dirt, his face was level with her stomach. One glance was all he allowed himself before his eyes darted away.

Nesta still looked like Nesta. There was no glow or scent to her skin, no softness to her face or additional roundness to her already full curves. Her abdomen remained flat, giving no sign of the life existing within, the life that Cassian helped create.

It would be smaller than one of my fingers, he thought and his wings twitched. The breeze and the sky calling him to freedom.

She'd seen.

The noise fogging his mind was cleared away by a sudden blast of magic.

Nesta's voice reached his ears clearer this time.

"What exactly are you intending to do?" Her tone was so chilled he was amazed his flesh didn't blacken from frostbite.

Cassian dug his hands into the ground before lifting them to cover his face. The fresh grass and earth lingered on his fingertips, and he inhaled deeply in an attempt to tether himself.

What did he intend to do? His thoughts splintered, images and names racing through every possibility he considered. Fly away, he told himself, fly to the mountains, fly home to Velaris, fly, fly, fly.

Rhys would know what to do.

Rhys always knew what to do, as did Mor. He would seek them out and get them to decide what was best. Their presence would be a soothing balm for him and while not quite as soothing for Nesta they had an authority she would have to acknowledge. Rhys and Mor would know what is best, he thought. Nesta wouldn't think so at first but they would want to be involved.

Everything would be easier for all of them this way.

He wanted to explain but it was hard to concentrate, the whirling tornado of his mind pierced with the frozen shards of Nesta's. The more he thought of Rhys and Mor, the more the breeze turned into a wind whipping across his wings.

"We can't do this," he found himself saying. "I can't do this; you can't do this." Here. Alone. That's what he meant to add but his voice cracked and the words wouldn't come.

He dropped his hands and glanced up at her, his Nesta. On her face she wore something close to devastation, not even an expression he'd seen after the Cauldron when she was trying to bathe again, laying sprawled and soaking on the floor of the bathroom.

Her words came without hesitation.

"Get out," she hissed. The sharpness she pushed through the bond at him was done with intent. If she had been ice before then Cassian couldn't describe this now, other than a swift stab to his gut with a spike.

The link between them was now blocked.

"Nesta...." he trailed off. The wind hurt now, cold and stinging against the membranes of his shivering wings. There was a violence, an unnaturalness to it, and Cassian understood underestimating Nesta was a dangerous thing.

The surrounding torrents blew stands of her hair from her braid and ruffled her dress but didn't make much else of an impact, her body remained upright and unyielding while Cassian's began to bend.

There was a chance to stop it. Nesta's magic could have been blocked with his siphons, and he could have stood, placed his hands on her arms and told her all this was a misunderstanding.

He didn't do any of them.

Nesta had offered him an opportunity to flee and so, while her storm raged around her small garden, Cassian opened his wings and let it carry him off into the sky.

***

It was evening when Cassian returned.

The brilliant blue of the mid-afternoon sky had turned into a deep navy with streaks of ruby from the setting sun.

Everything was silent, that silence extending to their connection through the bond.

Now, when he reached out it was as though he were touching the abyss. Whatever else she might do from this point onwards; retreating from him and blocking the bond was something Nesta had already done.

Earlier, when he'd left, he'd flown over the wilderness and was halfway back to Velaris when he changed his mind. His flight was half to clear his mind and half to flee to sanctuary.

He couldn't complete his journey and continuously turned round over and over in the sky, battling with himself. To fly forward or back was the question he struggled to answer.

Could he not do both?

Now he was calmer he would explain to Nesta it was more dangerous for her to be alone during this... situation. Perhaps what happened in the garden was a lack of control, her hormones playing havoc on her abilities.

He couldn't leave her here, unable to defend herself properly if the need arose. She couldn't go with him to the Steppes, not now, but maybe he would be able to convince her to be under the protection of Rhys and Feyre.

Nesta wouldn't love his plan but this was a plan put in place because of how much he loved her.

That was the intention.

He'd landed heavier than before, an extra burden pressing down on his shoulders. Everything remained unchanged from earlier aside from when he neared the cottage and he felt a new pressure on his body.

His wings flared on instinct, to brace himself against an invisible enemy’s onslaught but none came. Each step was as though he was trudging through mud, each one clunkier than before. When he reached the border of Nesta's boundary he realised he could no longer move.

When Cassian turned to walk back where he came, the strain lifted and, along with it, so did his feet.

He tested this a few times, the weight growing with every effort he made towards the cottage until he had to give up. When he did and turned back, the feeling his spine was going to snap into two melted away.

Nesta’s shields were always up but until this point her magic had never extended to Cassian.

She'd blocked him from reaching her, physically and through the bond. He stood outside staring at the grey stones of her walls wondering if she knew he was here.

She knows, he thought. She just doesn't care.

He'd left her for a moment, for a stupid moment, and now she'd rejected him absolutely.

Cassian convinced himself Nesta’s powers were unpredictable and this was adding to the evidence she should be among others. He was sure when she realised, she would lift her barriers and come to him.

So, he waited.

She never came.

***

The summer in Illyria had been brutal and so had Cassian. The sun scorched his skin and he fought through sweat soaked leathers, pounding his knuckles into the flesh of other Illyrians, his brethren, until the heat made his head throb.

It was only when the trainees were on the verge of collapse did he allow them to rest.

His reputation of fearsome was fast becoming one of cruelty; but he didn't stop, couldn't stop, until one day he observed an Illyrian child watching him, all skinny scabbed knees and curious eyes.

Cassian reached out a bloodied, bandaged hand as a gesture to show the boy some defence moves only for the child to flinch and curl his small, developing wings around himself as some form of meagre protection.

At that point, Cassian knew he had to temporarily turn the reigns over to Devlon, however reluctantly. His head wasn't where it should have been, thoughts of Nesta and the long silence between them which now lasted over a month had taken prominent place.

He hadn't attempted to reach out to her.

It was best, he decided, to leave everything until she was ready. This situation’s resolution had to be on her terms. But there was something else stopping him. He didn't want to discuss what they evidently needed to discuss, and he was scared, that if he tried to connect with her, she would refuse him again.

He would protect himself for the pain of her rejection by not giving her the chance to reject him at all.

Cassian had arrived back in Velaris in the afternoon, the new autumn air holding the residual warmth from summer within the city. He stood on top of the House of Wind, letting the breeze drift across his wings. He'd arrived without notifying anyone, not that there were many to notify. Feyre, Rhys and Az remained in the Dawn Court and Amren had decided to live out an eternal summer in the Summer Court itself.

He didn't mind. He wanted to take a moment, to gaze out on the place he called home and feast upon the red brick rooftops and shining surface of the Sidra without interruption.

Velaris was always a welcome sight and returning was the equivalent of someone throwing a blanket over Cassian’s shoulders to ward off the chill. This time though, it was as though the cold wind he’d experienced at Nesta’s had stalked him via his bones.

Something was disjointed now. He was happy to see his city but Velaris didn't hold the same thrill of excitement he usually experienced. Now it was as though it was a muted song, still remaining a pretty melody but harder to hear.

Was this how Nesta experienced Velaris? Or did she view it with more ambivalence? Was the city received with vitriol? Less a song and more a scream.

He thought of her, as he always did, alone in her cottage but now not alone. He'd learnt to turn the thoughts off quick; the pang in his chest made him want to cry.

Perhaps his sadness radiated outwards or maybe there was a part of him which called for help without realising but as he stared outwards, a soft and warm hand slid through his unwinding his clenched fingers.

"Hello, you."

Cassian looked down to see the golden hair of his best friend as she rested her head against his arm.

"Hello, Mor." His voice didn't crack but it was close.

She raised her face, her smile slipping into a frown. "Oh, my darling," she said. "I sensed you were back in Velaris but thought it was strange you didn't come to say hello."

Mor studied him for a moment, those deep brown eyes of hers absorbing every inch of his face, seeking out the truth which wouldn't take her long to find.

"You've had a fight with Nesta. A serious one."

It wasn't a question, Mor already knew the answer.

The years had melted away some animosity but it would be a lie to say it had disappeared. Time had patched over the intensity but was unable to purge the resentment completely.

Nesta removing herself from Velaris had gone some way to soothe the mutual dislike but the resolution was more a case of ‘out of sight, out of mind’ than any deeper healing.

Cassian knew Mor had felt a sting of rejection when he and Nesta had bonded and on some level, she had taken it as a strike to their friendship. Mor had advised him all those years ago to not accept the bond, and he'd proceeded regardless. Her fear, she told him, was that Nesta would burn him out with her anger.

Mor's concerns were from a place of love, but he'd accepted the bond from a place of his love. Besides, there was a kernel of truth in Nesta's statement to him that Mor didn't want to lose the life she'd spent centuries crafting and how Cassian was part of that.

Even though, regarding him and Nesta, there was part of Mor waiting for what she deemed inevitable but Cassian chose to ignore the tinge of hope he heard in her voice at her statement.

"Yes," he replied, "but it was my fault. I didn't respond to the news particularly well."

"What news?"

The truth would out, how could it not? Before his cowardice crept in again, he told Mor everything and watched as her eyes grew wider.

"Cas," she breathed and stepped in front of him, her arms stretching around his body, her cheek pressed against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her as tight as he could. He needed this; he needed a friend.

"I don't know what I'm doing," he confessed. "I don't know if I want to do this at all."

The memory of the small child he had once been morphed into the image of the boy he had inadvertently terrified at the camps. That image warped again into something smaller and more precious, an image he quickly discarded.

"Death and destruction are my talents; I doubt I'd be soothing anyone's pain away with kisses and cuddles." He let out a mirthless laugh.

Mor pulled back, standing on her toes, so she could reach her hands to his face and positioning him to look at her. "You're the best of us, Cass. You have so much love to give anyone. You love without question, defend without question and you'd die for those you love. I don't expect you'd do anything less for your child."

She squeezed his cheeks together until he grinned at the ridiculous expression she was making him wear. "You'll make a wonderful father; I know you will."

Mor let go of his face and stepped back into his arms for another hug. Cassian held onto her words as tightly as he held onto her.

"I wish Nesta were in Velaris," he sighed.

Mor tensed in his arms.

"Oh."

"She's strong but the wilderness is no place for a pregnant female. I don't think isolation is the best place for her right now. Or for a baby."

"I agree," Mor said. "So, bring the baby here. We have space in every one of the houses for a nursery, two nurseries if you want. And we have Nuala and Ceridwen on hand. Plus, the rest of us will dote on it and when you need to go to the camps any one of us will protect it with our lives. Can you imagine such a fantastic life in Velaris, with all these aunts and uncles around?"

Something wiggled its way through his stomach, an unease which twisted like a worm. Cassian let his arms loose from Mor's body. "And Nesta."

"What?"

"Nesta will need to be here too."

Mor stepped back with a look on her face that told him she'd tried to forget Nesta was part of the equation and didn't want to be reminded. It disappeared fast into a practiced smile. "Of course," Mor waved her hand in the air like she was batting away a fly. "And Nesta, of course."

"Except I don't think she'd come," Cassian continued, watching as Mor marched to the roof edge to look down. Her body was as rigid as Nesta's had been when he had last seen her.

"Make her."

"Mor..."

"What?" Mor turned to face Cassian. "It's not just her anymore, is it? If she wasn't so selfish, if she wasn't so..." she trailed off.

Cassian's skin began to itch, like he had grown too large for it and now it wanted to split open. His tongue pressed upwards against the ridges of his mouth where his pulse began to click.

A forced smile slipped onto Mor's face. "I just mean, she's renowned for being stubborn but sometimes, in the past, her actions haven't exactly been beneficial for her, have they? Right now, she's being stubborn and though that may benefit her, it's not benefiting you or the baby. It makes sense for her to be in Velaris at this stage, so she has immediate access to healers. You just need to convince her this is for her own good."

"Even if I do, she won't stay."

"Don't make her."

His head began to hurt again, the heartbeat a pressure against the back of his eyes. "Mor, you're not making sense. First you're telling me to make her come here and now you're telling me I can't make her stay."

"Once she's here and can see how much better it would be for the baby to be in Velaris she might stay," Mor's voice conveyed enthusiasm even if her face didn't. "But if she decides she doesn't want to stay she doesn't have to. Nesta may realise it would be better for everyone if the baby was here. Think of all you can give it; think of all we can give it. What can Nesta provide in her hovel in the middle of a field? If she wants to go back let her, but she shouldn't be allowed to force that life on your child."

What he experienced with Nesta in her garden came back in an instant. His heart beating hard against his ribcage, the pulse reverberating into his skull, while his breath squeezed from his lungs.

There was an emergence of something he hadn't felt towards Mor before, something which itched and crawled in his skin the more she spoke.

"I can't begin to fathom what she'd be like as a mother, Cass. You would have all the love in the world for your child, but would she? How fit is she? Do we want to wait to find out?"

If there was a spark which existed in Nesta that turned into the occasional furnace then it was true the same could be said for him. The difference was Nesta was ice until she became fire, Cassian was warmth until he became flame.

In Cassian’s mind lived a million images of Nesta but there were always ones he visited first. She'd held his hand once on a battlefield, tended to his wounds with gentle fingers. She'd pressed her body against his ready to die with him.

When he'd been poisoned in the Illyrian civil war, she'd stayed with him when the troops moved camps, knowing he was too ill to fly and too weak to fight.

During one of Cassian’s first trips to her cottage she spoke about her plans to make a little garden all the while chopping vegetables for a broth that was his favourite.

Her cheeks blushed a dusky pink and her hair looked orange against the firelight. Cassian thought if Nesta had any siphons that would have been their colour, flame for a creature of heat and warmth.

His siphons, the seven red ones, were now glowing.

"Cass?" Mor's voice was concerned.

Mor’s words had pierced his skin like poisonous barbs and though the venom wasn't intended for him, he was not immune. Still, it alarmed him, that some primal part existed within to trigger his power. It was only his reflexes caused the surge to mute.

"What's happening?" Mor's voice was small and croaked, the verge of a teary outburst imminent. He wasn't the only one alarmed at the indication that some part of him wanted to blast his lifelong best friend from the rooftop.

"I think we're done."

Nesta, while never fond of Mor, hadn't said a word about the other female since moving away. Part of her healing was to let go of what caused her pain, and she had deemed Mor something to let drift away.

These words Mor said freely stung him. Cassian and Nesta had chosen to honour the bond and so when Nesta was struck then Cassian must also suffer the blow. Although there was a consequence of their love living in Nesta's body that he didn't want to face, it didn't negate his love for Nesta.

"I have to go."

"Cass, please... wait!"

The siphons had dimmed, back fully under Cassian's control and Mor ran forward, clutching at his arms with wide eyes as the ripples of her panic spread thick throughout the surrounding air.

Mor called after his retreating back even as he took to the sky. The irony didn't escape him, that for the second time in several months Cassian flew away from a female he loved.

***

Every morning Cassian was drenched in sweat like he’d been fighting through the night.

Screams echoed in his mind along with the splashing of water as Nesta sank beneath the Cauldron, Hybern’s leering face never far away. Dreaming of memories was nothing new but now as the images raced through his mind, he dreamt Nesta with a swollen stomach and as she screamed it was followed by the shriek of a baby’s cry.

Cassian had tried not to dwell on what Mor had said, the questioning of Nesta’s ability to mother, although those images also came unbidden. He saw an empty crib, a baby lying on the cold ground while Nesta walked away and Cassian remained absent.

He shook those thoughts away and sharpened his anger at himself and at Mor for forcing these thoughts into his head.

Cassian had managed to flee from two females but now, three weeks after his encounter with Mor, he actively sought out a third.

Elain lived on the estate of Feyre and Rhys’ river house and had done so for decades.

There was a complicated history between Az and Lucian, of which Cassian didn’t know the full details. Whenever he’d asked Nesta, she pursed her lips like she was sucking on something sour and refused to say a word.

Cassian assumed Nesta was upset that Elain chose to reside so close to Feyre and Rhys, that she hadn’t wanted to forge ahead with her own path. But Cassian never understand why Elain would want to be anywhere else when everything she needed was at their doorstep.

A cottage had been built for Elain in the gardens, some considerable distance from the house to allow for privacy for all residents. Thick trunked trees and tall flowers took care of the rest and the walls were draped with wisteria, covering everything aside from the windows and doors. If you weren’t looking, you wouldn’t have known it existed.

The door was wide open, as if she knew he would come, and Cassian stepped inside the stone floored hallway and followed Elain’s humming to where she stood in the kitchen. Her back was to him, her golden-brown hair so like Nesta’s, loose down her back and scattered with greenery. Elaine didn’t turn to greet him, concentrating on arranging flowers in a vase even as she spoke.

“Shame you and Mor still aren’t speaking.”

Cassian hadn’t spoken to anyone about their argument and to his knowledge, neither had Mor. He shouldn’t be surprised that Elain knew, Elain had a strange way of knowing everything but she sounded far too pleased about the development for her sympathies to hold true.

“Mor spoke out of turn.”

“Doesn’t she always?”

“Yes, but...” Cassian trailed off. Yes, but this time she went too far. This time. This time. To say it was a sad acknowledgement of the other times and the shameful fact he’d let them slide.

Elain turned, waiting for the completion of a sentence she knew he wouldn’t finish.

She was usually the gentlest of the sisters but there was nothing gentle about Elain at this moment. Out of the Archeron’s, it was Nesta and Feyre who looked most alike but there was something currently hard and cold about Elain that reminded him of his mate. His chest ached.

“Why are you here?” Elain’s tone was sharp, dismissive as though Cassian were a greenfly on her rose bushes she needed to squash out.

“I need your help.”

Elain raised a delicate eyebrow and leant back on the wooden table behind her, her fingers trailing through the flowers laid across it. “Go on.”

“I’m worried for Nesta, she’s all alone in her cottage and too far from help if she needs it - not that she’d ask for it, which is a concern itself.” He sighed at Elain’s immoveable expression. “I just want her to be someplace safe, just in case.”

“Just in case what?”

All the images rushed in at once, all his fears. Just in case someone breaks in and drags her out of her bed, just in case someone throws her into the cauldron, just in case someone tries to poison her, tries to set her cottage on fire, just in case she gets ill.

“Just in case she can’t cope.”

“You think you can’t?”

Cassian groaned and tugged his hands through his hair. “I don’t know! But at least if she can’t and she’s here then she’d have you and Feyre. Well at least you, Feyre is barely here.”

“And you?”

“What?”

“And you? You’ll be here and ‘not away.’”

“Yes, yes of course. And me.”

Elain picked up a flower, a cream one with splashes of pink, and twirled it. She seemed to be fixated on the petals as they spun, round and round, as the silence grew in the room. Eventually she spoke.

“You want me to convince her to come here and you think she’ll listen to me because it’s me.” It was almost a whisper how soft she spoke it.

The scene changed so fast.

Splotches of crimson appeared on Elain’s neck and Cassian watched her fingers tighten around the stem of the flower. “It’s history repeating all over again. Drag us to Velaris because you want it, exile us to the camps because you want it.” She scoffed. “And so, she comes to Velaris, for what? Nesta will watch as Feyre and Mor and Rhys cluck over the baby because it’s yours while they try and forget that Nesta had anything to do with it.”

Cassian’s mouth dropped open, a void had formed between his brain and mouth and no words took shape.

“We can’t just be shuffled around like pieces on a game board for whenever suits the High Lord.”

“I haven’t.... I don’t.... I haven’t spoken to Rhys about it. I don’t even think he knows Nesta is even.... it’s my idea. Mine. To keep her safe.”

Elain let out a shuddering breath and released her fist. The flower, its stem now a green pulp, slid from her hand and landed on the floor. “Do you believe that Nesta isn’t safe where she is?”

Cassian thought of the expanse of blue sky over Nesta’s head, the mountains looming in the distance and the dark green tops of the woods. The fields were filled with nothing but wildflowers and aside from her little stone cottage and garden there was nothing for miles and no one but Nesta.

He could imagine the sound of the wooden door breaking, the splintering as the wood split as fae forced their way in. It hadn’t happened but ‘yet’ was never a word far from his mind.

Her magic was strong though and her will greater.

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully, “but I do know I want her here.”

“That’s even worse,” Elain said looking him straight in the eye, her voice taking a harder quality. “No. Until Nesta herself wants to come back I won’t be involved in asking her. I’m not going to conspire with you or with anyone to take away her freedom no matter how desperate you are.”

She grabbed the vase and pushed past Cassian, “I’m grateful she was even able to get out.” She placed the vase on a ledge and stared at it for a moment before facing Cassian again. “Do you want this for her?” She gestured around.

Cassian couldn’t understand what was wrong with ‘this.’ A home, safe in the grounds of their High Lord and Lady. Constant protection and constant company. If they built a cottage next door to Elain than all sisters would be in the same place. Nesta didn’t even need to live in the house if she didn’t want.

He sighed, the truth edging free. “I don’t. She’d hate it.” He scrubbed a calloused hand over his face, “I just don’t know what to do. Maybe Rhys and Feyre will tell me, they always know what to do.”

A snort, far from ladylike, emitted from Elain. “They would bend everyone to their will if they could, trap everyone in this place until it suits them.” A faraway look entered her eyes, “I should be with Lucian, in Spring, Day and Autumn, floating between them all like a butterfly. They have such beautiful colour.”

There was another moment of silence, wherever Elain was she was no longer with Cassian. “Elain,” he asked, “why are you here?”

It was an assumption on his part that she loved living in the Night Court, that her heart was here along with her body.

His question snapped her back to him and she scoffed again. “I’m a piece of the game they play with Lucian, of course. An heir to Autumn, an advisor to Spring and the sole heir to Day? Mother forbid he decides to not play nice with Rhys.” Vitriol spilled from Elain’s tone. “Feyre, sweet childish, Feyre thinks I want to be here because that’s what Rhys has convinced her to think and your precious Morrigan lost her best buffer between her and Az so she needed another one. Don’t think I didn’t hear her egging Rhys on to keep me here.”

He didn’t know. Truly didn’t. That Elain was held in a prison of flowers and pleasantries. Cassian knew that her and Lucian hadn’t an easy start to their mating bond, there was some entanglement with Az yes, but this was always her choice.

It worried him how little he knew.

Maybe Elain detected something in him as her eyes softened. “People respond in extreme ways when they’re scared,” Elain continued. “You and Nesta have that in common. Unfortunately, she’s significantly more stubborn than you.”

Elain took one of the flowers from the vase and crossed over to where he stood, tucking it into a band of his armour, the peach petals a strange sight against charred black leather. At least he wasn’t completely without Elain’s grace.

“Have you tried to contact Nesta?” she asked him. “Really tried?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Then I don’t want to see you again until you have.”

***

Immortality and time were complicated bedfellows. One moved quick and left the other one floundering. What were years when there were so many decades? What were decades when you could live centuries?

Months were nothing. Weeks even less.

Feyre, Rhys and Az had arrived back from Dawn at the full change of the season. The greens of the trees had long turned gold and red and now, another cusp awaited. The trees grew barer and the petals had long since fallen from their stalks.

This was the longest he’d gone without speaking to Mor and he hadn’t tried to approach Elain again.

This was also the longest he’d gone without Nesta and Cassian believed he would have suffered less if someone slid a blade between his ribs.

He trained at the House of Wind; he ambled through Velaris. His body was one place and his thoughts another. He was in the training arena when Rhys returned.

“I’d say congratulations my friend but I don’t think that’s what you’d want me to say.”

Rhys was leaning against the wall, a grin on his face. Cassian sighed. He was in little to no mood for one of Rhys’ cocky moments.

“I don’t think I deserve a congratulations.”

“Well I’m sure you had some involvement in this escapade.”

Cassian grit his teeth. The conceiving of a child between mates wasn’t something he would refer to as an ‘escapade’ but he could hardly defend himself.

“Funny,” Rhys continued, “how the Mother works. Some she blesses with the joy of motherhood and some she curses with a joyless mother.”

That feeling wormed its way again into Cassian’s stomach, irritation? Frustration? Whatever it was, it was an ever-increasing desire to take his knuckles and smash them into Rhys’ sculptured cheekbones.

“How was your trip?”

It was deflection at its finest and Cassian watched as Rhys’ face sparked. “Excellent. We managed to get what we wanted and Feyre decided to-”

Cassian let Rhys’ voice drift into one ear and out the other. He didn’t care about the trip or negotiations or whatever wealth Rhys managed to accumulate for the Night Court. He didn’t care for what silks and jewels Feyre was now re-gifting. He wanted to ask his friend, his brother in all but blood; ‘Was the Cauldron wrong in choosing us? Will I make a good father? Will Nesta be a good mother?’

He couldn’t. He couldn’t show his High Lord that Cassian, General and Commander of his armies, was scared of something he could cradle in the nook of his arm. It was like a dying dog showing its bare throat to a hungry wolf.

“I’m disappointed to hear from Mor that you aren’t speaking to her though.” Cassian snapped back into the present.

Cassian shrugged and leant on the wall opposite. “We had a disagreement,” he said as disinterested as he could.

“Well she’s upset. Make it better.”

There, Cassian’s skin prickled again, his blood burning hot in his veins. Rhys not knowing, or worse, not caring why the silence occurred in the first place. Cassian’s feelings were irrelevant in this situation and what Mor said about Nesta seemed to be no concern.

Rhys had moved the conversation on again, such surety that Cassian would call to heel. Cassian thought of Elain slowly crushing flowers.

It was at the mention of Nesta’s name that Cassian dipped back in.

“They had a ‘disagreement’ too and now she won’t speak with Feyre either. Whatever slim thread of rationality that your female had has now completely gone and Feyre is distraught.”

Of course, Feyre had made this about herself. Of course, she has. Cassian’s thought was so like Nesta’s voice that he wondered if Nesta had re-opened the bond, even for a minute, to listen to his conversation. But the walls were still up and it was just his own voice inside his head.

“I told Feyre being ignored by Nesta isn’t such a bad thing,” Rhys chuckled and then stopped at Cassian’s look. “Sorry, my friend.” Rhys leant across and rested his hand on Cassian’s shoulder. “I jest.”

Yes, and he always did. Joke after joke. Time after time. Small barbs of poison like Mor’s that landed on Cassian’s skin and sank into his bloodstream.

“She tried to convince Nesta to come to Velaris. Feyre’s also tried to convince Elain to get involved because she’s the only one Nesta is speaking with. Elain wouldn’t have it,” Rhys shook his head. “She’s becoming more like Nesta each passing day.” He let out a sigh. “Were it the other way round.”

Would Rhys want that? Cassian pondered. Nesta stuck in a cottage on his estate, nursing an infant at her breast and glaring at him as he approached. It would be more than flowers Nesta would be crushing. Cassian suppressed a grin at the thought.

“I wouldn’t want that for her,” Cassian said.

“What? You wouldn’t want a safe, contented life for her? Not that she’ll be content with anything.”

Cassian thought of the turn of last autumn and Nesta joyfully showing him a full basket of berries she’d picked and how she planned to turn them into jam. There was a sharp tug, right under his rib cage and he brought his hand up, pressing his palm against it.

Rhys had noticed the movement, the arrogant smirk finally sliding from his face. What little love he had for Nesta, he still had volumes for Cassian and his friend in pain wasn’t something Rhys would revel in.

“I can bring her into Velaris if you want?” His voice was solemn. “Talking her into it won’t work but I can command her as High Lord and she wouldn’t be able to refuse.”

There was a part of Cassian that leapt at the offer. Nesta would be safe among the Inner Circle, she would have Elain as company and eventually she would speak to Feyre again. She’d be safe.

She would also hate Cassian for the rest of their lives.

“No,” he replied, “I couldn’t do that to her.”

Rhys shrugged. “If that’s what you want. If you change your mind, let me know. I’ll do it for you and Feyre. And for the child. I can’t be entirely convinced Nesta wouldn’t eat her own young.”

***

Cassian was really living up to his reputation of violence and brutality. The blood, not his own, that he washed from his fist turned the water a pale pink at the bottom of the bowl. It had been an hour, maybe less, since the rooftop ‘conversation’ with Rhys.

There was a soft noise from the corner of Cassian’s suite, an exhalation of air that could have been either a disappointed sigh or restrained laugh. “So, you’re getting into fights with Rhys now?”

“Yes,” Cassian replied, “and once I’ve cleaned up, I’m going to go back to the roof to continue my brooding before I was so rudely interrupted.”

There was a definite chuckle and Az stepped from the shadows, a smile gracing his mouth. “Don’t go swapping talents with me now, I’d hate to have to go around punching my High Lord in the face.”

“Rhys has a nose like a rock, I wouldn’t recommend it.”

The smile slid from Az’s face as he came closer, stepping next to Cassian in the designated wash corner of his room. The ornate mirror, some monstrosity chosen by Rhys or Feyre, hung above the basin and Cassian could see both his and Az’s reflections on the surface.

“I’m worried about you, brother,” Cassian watched and then felt, as Az’s scarred hand came to rest on Cassian’s shoulder with a comforting squeeze.

Cassian felt his jaw lock into place, he didn’t want to engage in another discussion today that wouldn’t go well for either party. “I’ll warn you now, if you want to be dismissive about Nesta this won’t go well.”

Az raised his hands in surrender. “Why would I be dismissive about Nesta? She’s your mate and soon to be mother of your child. Besides,” he said with a grin, “I’m not stupid.”

Cassian snorted and turned, giving Az an affectionate thump on the arm before picking up a dry cloth and walking over to his bed. He sat on the cover, scrubbing his hands dry, minding the broken skin on his knuckles. “Go tell that to Rhys and Mor.”

Az’s grin slipped away and he walked to sit beside Cassian. “Rhys knows he crossed a line and that you were defending your pregnant mate. I’m sure that’s why he didn’t hit back.”

“It was a long time coming,” the words were a truth that Cassian had taken an even longer time realising. He was filled with shame at how long.

“Yes,” Az replied, “it was.”

Cassian didn’t hide his flinch.

“Mor however doesn’t understand what she’s done wrong.”

Cassian buried his face in his hands. “Of course, she doesn’t. I’ve let her get away with comments about Nesta for years, decades even. But they’re questioning Nesta’s ability as a mother now, damning her before she’s even had a chance to prove them wrong.”

“You’re sure she’ll prove them wrong?”

“I know she will.”

“Then why not wait and let the evidence speak for itself?”

“Because I know Nesta wouldn’t want them thinking this about her, I don’t want them thinking this about her.” The next part came out as a whisper, “I don’t want to think this about her.”

Az raised an eyebrow, “You’ve thought she’ll make a terrible mother?”

“It’s crossed my mind but then I don’t think I should be anyone’s father.” He paused. “We shouldn’t be having a baby.”

There. It was what on been on his mind the second he knew about its existence.

Never mind the enemies they’d collected over the years, what if he and Nesta managed to emotionally damage the child beyond repair? What if they hurt it physically? What if it died? What if Cassian died and left it fatherless the same way Cassian had been?

He couldn’t hide how much he lived for war. It called to his blood. In times of peace he worried he was bored, worried the bloodshed was too invigorating. That’s why he craved Nesta’s company and the eternal battles using their words.

Nesta never tried to turn him into a creature of peace but instead provided an outlet for his energy, even their card games by the fire turned itself into fierce competition where only one would hold ultimate dominion.

They were happy. It just wasn’t an environment for a child.

“You won’t be ‘any’ child’s father though Cass,” Az said, “and Nesta won’t be ‘any’ child’s mother. It’s a child of you both, it will exist as part of you both.” It was like Az had read his mind, “Whichever way you raise it will be the right way – for you both and the baby.”

“I ran from her.”

“You can run back.”

“I wanted her to come here.”

“Are you going to make her?”

Cassian shook his head with vehemence. “Never.”

A hand clapped him on the back. “My friend, you’ve known for a long time what needs to be done, now you need to stop avoiding Nesta and face your future. It’s a glorious one.”

“Our resident seer has seen that has she?” It was a joke said with a smile, a way to lighten the tension of the room but Cassian saw Az’s face grow sombre. Az once loved Elain, maybe still did, but he clearly had his own issues he’d been avoiding.

“You could ask her. Even better, you could make it happen itself.”

“I need to talk to Nesta,” Cassian said, “truly talk to her.”

“You have this,” Az told him, “both the conversation and fatherhood. Nesta and you, you’re well matched. It’s agony to be around at times, but you’re well matched.”

Cassian clapped a hand onto his friends back, “You are my favourite Az, just don’t let any of the others know.”

***

The feeling was like someone had come along and removed rocks from his shoulders. Purpose, Cassian decided, gave you strength.

His leathers were on, his windows wide open and Cassian had finished wrapping his newly retrieved bundle into the satchel on his bed when Elain walked in.

He started, amazed at how she trod so gently that his fae ears couldn’t hear her approach.

Elain’s hair was bundled into a messy bun, sprigs of mistletoe decorating the strands. She’d switched to winter clothes, thicker material but still softer colours and it was jarring to see the pale pastel blues against the dark wood of Cassian’s rooms.

Cassian hadn’t thought that Elain even knew where his rooms were.

“Can you give Nesta this? She’s got back ache and I told her I’d send her some Scia Root.” Elain held out a lumpy muslin cloth tied with ribbon.

Cassian frowned as he took it. He’d realised after his conversation with Az that he was ready to go to Nesta, to grovel and beg her forgiveness. He would have thrown himself down at her feet if he needed to but he’d kept his intentions to see her quiet, telling no one.

“How did you-,” he trailed off. There was no point in asking. Elain just knew what Elain knew. He felt a sliver of something along his spine, maybe there were other reasons Rhys didn’t want Elain and Lucian together. All that power. All those Courts.

It wasn’t his concern. Elain’s comments about Nesta’s back ache however was and he shoved the roots into the side of the satchel. There was much he missed and Nesta’s body changing and the baby growing were two of those things.

Elain stood at the end of his bed, head cocked and smiling. “The baby will have your eyes you know.”

His breath stopped short, hands stilling on the strap of the satchel that he was adjusting to fit his width.

“And Nesta’s smile,” Elain continued. “I know that seems a contradiction but you’ve seen it, she has a beautiful smile.”

He had. It was. Rare but like most gifts, the most precious were rare.

He knew that there would be a baby. Obviously. His focus had been on how small, and fragile it was, how him and Nesta had unlimited potential to let it down. He’d just never really considered it as a separate entity, one comprised of him and Nesta and a whole component that would be uniquely its own.

He swallowed over the lump in his throat. “You’ve seen a vision of the future then?”

“Oh yes,” Elain replied and Cassian watched as she ambled about his room looking at every artifact she could see, her fingers touching every surface.

“Is she smiling in this vision of yours?”

“Nesta? Oh yes. The baby smiles a lot too. It’s very loved.”

“Good, that’s.... good.” He said the words flippantly, as though his heart weren’t pounding in his chest again, as though the spots of light hadn’t re-entered his line of vision. “Am I in this vision?”

Elain stopped in her meandering and turned to face him, those deep brown eyes of hers, bottomless with what they could now see, scanned his face. “It depends Cassian.”

“On what?”

“On whether you want to be.”

He’d had enough debates with Rhys and Az on fate versus free will to last him a thousand lifetimes over, often with him arguing the power of the Mother. In this moment he would argue the other way. The future was in the hands of those who would carve it out for themselves.

“Yes, I do,” he replied. “It’s taken me too long to realise it.”

“It took the time it needed.”

Cassian wanted to reassure Elain that he was ready and if there were times he wasn’t then he would make himself ready.

He wanted to say that he would always defend Nesta, he should have always defended Nesta and that he would murder and maim before he let anyone rip Nesta and their baby away from the place Nesta considered home and that included those he considered family.

He didn’t say all this because he suspected Elain already knew and besides, those words needed to be for someone else.

Before he left, he turned to Elain as she stood, having moved to the window next to him to watch the first flakes of snow.

“I hope-” he began and trailed off. “I mean for you and Lucian that-” again he stopped. Words weren’t his strength. Elain didn’t turn around but he saw her nod and a slight smile in the reflection of the glass.

It was a smile that spoke of war yet to come.

***

The wilderness was covered with blankets of thick white snow and spiked patterns of frost. Icicles hung from the branches of the forest trees and the ground was long in its sleep, not a trace of life to be seen.

The flakes that swirled around him as he flew caught in his hair and eyelashes until all he saw were blurs of white.

To say not a trace of life was incorrect because life bloomed in the cottage in front of him. Smoke billowed from the chimney and lights shone from every window lighting up the place like a solstice tree against the darkening sky.

Cassian squeezed the satchel strap until his knuckles turned white before he took a deep breath and strode forward. He felt himself pass though the magic barrier, the one that shielded Nesta from unwanted visitors, the one she’s turned on him all those months ago.

He didn’t know whether the shield for him was down recently or had been brought down months ago. He was too ashamed to ask.

The air shifted as he neared the cottage, she knew he was here, probably had done since he landed. It was possible she knew the second he left Velaris. As he neared it, he could see the door was slightly ajar. Nesta may not be greeting him with open arms but in her way, this was gesture enough.

Much had changed inside.

The piles of books that threatened to crush a fae under their groaning weight had been cleared away and stacked onto bookshelves. The knives that casually adorned the butchers block had been tidied away out of sight.

The fire crackled and spat behind an iron gate and a pile a green wool lay strewn onto the sofa, two knitting needles embedded into the skein. Part of the wool had already transformed into a bootie for a foot and the shape of a leg was forming.

Cassian wandered over, picking it up between his fingers and marvelled at how soft it was against the calluses of his fingertips and how small it sat in the palm of his hand. I’ll protect you, he thought, me and your mama and there’s no one more formidable.

Maybe his thoughts were a beacon for all to hear but there was a clunk of a door latch and Nesta once more emerged from the room that was now the nursery.

If Cassian thought the cottage was much changed, it was nothing in comparison to his mate before him. Nesta’s hair seemed longer but that could have been because it was loose down her back and not braided into its usual coronet.

Her hair tumbling in waves also made her face appear softer and rounder or at least that’s what Cassian thought until he realised that Nesta’s face was softer and rounder. Her sharp cheekbones may have been less pronounced but her skin glowed as though a flame was lit within her.

The greatest change was, of course, her stomach.

Even if Cassian had wanted to continue avoiding the evidence of his impending fatherhood he wouldn’t have held much of a chance. Nesta’s stomach protruded from her slight frame and straining against the fabric, the impression of her belly button pressed against the material. Cassian found himself fascinated at how glorious it looked.

Something else was edging its way in now, pushing down the shame and fear. The primal, ferocious part of him that existed was screaming to snatch Nesta away and carry her somewhere even more secluded then where she currently was.

He was still staring at her belly, still holding the woollen sock when Nesta’s hand came to rest on her stomach followed by a not so subtle cough.

Desperately shoving the nerves down, he looked back at her face. The softening of her face and glow of her skin hadn’t dampened the sharpness residing within. Her eyes were tired but not sad, a resolve existing in them that whatever happened with Cassian, whether he was there or not, she would be.

Cassian opened and closed his mouth like a fish gulping in the air unable to find the words that would ever convey how sorry he was.

Nesta just fixed him with a stare before she spoke. “I was going to make some stew. Are you staying for dinner?”

He stammered out a confirmation and watched as Nesta’s eyes flitted down to where he still clutched onto the sock before she turned away.

Though the cottage was small and the physical distance between them minimal, Cassian felt the gulf.

Sorry, he wanted to say. Please forgive me, was the other. If she wanted nothing to do with him or if she wanted him to have nothing to do with their child it was within her right even if both those decisions would smash what was left of his heart.

Nesta began chopping vegetables in silence and Cassian finally put down the sock and the satchel and turned towards the nursery.

From the corner of his eye he saw Nesta pause as he approached its door.

“May I?” he asked and she nodded without looking, continuing with her task.

The room had been filled with more items than when he’d last seen it. The lace curtains still adorned the window but now fae lights twinkled around the pane and Cassian could see snowflakes as they danced and twisted in the air.

The rooms dusty, unlived smell had completely disappeared to be perfumed with both with Nesta’s scent and that of a bouquet of flowers sat on a table and enchanted to permanently bloom.

Cassian recognised it from Elain’s kitchen, the very ones she was arranging when he visited. He thought of the peach petals of the flower she gave him and how vibrant and alive it looked next to his leathers.

The bookcase was now filled with books, all bound in cream, yellow and green and clearly recognisable as children’s stories from the Night or Day Court. There were a few that Cassian didn’t recognise but he knew enough to understand they were from the Mortal Lands.

The ones that had a shelf of their own; bashed and burnt edged, tarnished and worn with dark brown leather trims were unmistakably Illyrian.

Even though she couldn’t be sure that Cassian would be there, even though he couldn’t have been sure he would, Nesta still found a way to secure items from half their child’s heritage.

The rocking chair was now prepped with a cushion and the crib, still the most prominent feature in the room waited patiently for its impending occupant. A mobile of stars and winged creatures hung down above the centre and swayed when Cassian trailed his fingers over it.

He’d missed so much already; he’d almost missed so much more. The fear was there but next to it, deep in his belly, now lived something else. Excitement had started to take shape.

When he returned to the kitchen he strode to where Nesta stood as she buttered bread and pretended to ignore him.

“Nesta,” he murmured and she paused. Her face had affected an air of disinterest but her hand trembled as she held the knife and he remembered months ago when her clenched fists did the same.

How had he been so stupid? In his previous terror he mistook those signs for rage and yes, she had been angry, but there was the undercurrent of something else. She’d been terrified too, still was, and he’d let his own fear confirm hers.

“Nesta,” he said again and turned her so that she faced him, their bodies so close that her full belly brushed against his. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, instead choosing to focus on a point on his chest.

But she wasn’t pulling away.

“I’ve been such a fool,” he said and reached forward to cup her face in his hands. Nesta closed her eyes and a solitary tear slid down her cheek. “Such a fool,” he repeated as he wiped it away with the pad of his thumb, caressing it against her cheek.

Nesta let out a shaky sigh and nodded and that seemed to break her, a sob wrenching its way free from her mouth.

He pulled her closer, wrapping her in his arms and revelled in her presence, her scent, her everything. Another sob came from her mouth, pressed against his chest and he heard her muffled voice, “Stupid hormones.”

***

They sat side by side on the couch in front of the fire. Their bowls lay empty on the floor and Cassian’s bare foot rested against Nesta’s as she tucked herself next to his body. He played with a strand of her hair, twisting it in his fingers and watched as her eyes grew heavy until they closed, her hands resting on her belly.

The only sound in the room was the crackle of the fire and although he didn’t want to interrupt their fragile peace, he knew he needed to.

“Nesta,” he began and felt her tense by his side. “I need to-”

“It’s fine,” she said sharply, cutting him off. Although she had let him back into her home there was still ice left to thaw. He could leave it, accept the battle was done but he knew the hurt he’d caused would fester. Someday, maybe not soon, but someday, the wound that Nesta hastily patched up would only re-open.

As Cassian was the cause of that wound he needed to ensure he healed it.

He cleared his throat. “I didn’t know my father. I imagined to myself that he was an exalted Illyrian warrior, maybe even Illyrian royalty, and it was war or some other disaster which tore him away from the female he loved. I convinced myself he’d died, either fighting or fighting to get back to her.”

Nesta remained silent but Cassian continued.

“I also managed to convince myself that he would have thought my mother’s pregnancy the best thing that had ever happened to him, that he was overjoyed with his peasant female and the son she would give him. I always hoped, if he had died, his dying thoughts were of us.”

Cassian stared into the flames behind the grate.

“They were the wishes of a child. My father either didn’t know she was pregnant with his bastard or didn’t care. It wouldn’t have mattered if he was one of the best warriors we’ve ever had, he fucked a launderess in a camp and that’s where it ended.” Saying the words out loud caused a different kind of ache in his heart but to move forwards, he had to close the past.

“If he knew she was pregnant,” he continued, “then it didn’t matter - he left us. I told myself I would never do that and yet, that’s exactly what I did.”

Nesta let out a shaky sigh. Cassian continued to let the strand of hair twirl between his fingers, the firelight shading it a brilliant copper.

“I don’t know how to be a father,” he admitted. “I was scared – am still scared – that I’m going to ruin both your lives. I shouldn’t have run. I still don’t know how to be a father but I’m not going to run again.” Cassian placed a kiss on the top of Nesta’s head. “I will always be sorry.”

Nesta let out another sigh and turned in his arms to face him. “Cassian,” she began and glanced away to take a breath before facing him again.

“You’re not the only one who’s scared. My parents were present but they were never really there. You know about my father and my mother – she loved my father deeply but she resented having children. I’m scared that I’m like her and the way I was with Feyre...” she trailed off and Cassian saw her throat bob as she swallowed.

“You were a different person then. You and Feyre have made amends.”

Nesta shook her head. “When she sent me to the camps, I hated her. Hated her. Back then I would have done anything to tear her life apart.” She looked at him, reaching forward to clasp his hands in hers.

“That feeling’s gone, I’m just so tired now. Except...” Nesta took another breath. “It was something you said, about needing to speak with Rhys. I was terrified that Rhys and Mor would take my baby away. I was scared you and Feyre would let them.” She looked away again, her eyes someplace other than the room. “I knew what I would have done to you all if you tried.” A smile briefly touched her face.

Decades had passed since Cassian watched her hack at the neck of Hybern until the gristle and bone finally snapped. She’d held the severed head in her hands, her face splattered with blood and a smile, wide and ghastly, stretched across her face. It was the shadow of that smile that appeared now.

Cassian thought back to the recent conversations with Mor and Rhys, how Rhys was willing to use his authority as High Lord to bend Nesta to his will.

Even though Cassian had once wanted her in Velaris, had tried to convince her it was the right place, had considered that her and the baby should be made to live there, he would never have allowed it.

Nesta never would have allowed it.

He looked down at his hands, currently clutched in Nesta’s. His own blood had run down his knuckles and into the ground. He had wrapped those hands around the throats of traitors, had used those hands to wield blades, slicing them into the guts and hearts of enemies. His first kill was a throat split so wide he’d almost severed a head himself. He pictured the faces of his friends, the fae he had called family. If any one of them had tried to take Nesta’s baby away from her, Cassian wouldn’t have just let the rampage happen, he would have joined in.

“You’re not your mother,” he told her, flipping their hands so hers were now clutched in his. His calloused thumbs caressed her soft skin. “I’m not my father. This baby is ours, no one else’s.”

“I know,” she looked at him with fierce eyes, “I would take down anyone who would try and take it away from me. Even you.”

“I would never do that,” he said, “I promise.” He kissed the top of her head again and she let out another sigh, this one so soft it was barely audible. Cassian took a moment to breath in her scent before shifting to the satchel he brought with him, his stomach twisting.

Nesta slid away, so that she faced him, eager to see what he was doing.

The leather was old and worn but it was sturdy, protecting its plethora of contents over numerous centuries and now protected the precious gift Cassian had brought back with him from Velaris. The parcel he pulled out was misshapen and wrapped in plain linens tied with brown string but he hoped the contents would be significantly more impressive. He cleared his throat and held it to Nesta. “It’s for you,” he said. “Well actually the baby.”

Nesta took the parcel from him and unwrapped it with careful hands, a gasp escaping her. Cassian knew that Nesta was intrinsically aware of what this was, of what this meant to him.

Even after all this time the blanket was soft. The edges may have been a little frayed but nothing that was detrimental, it was still a good blanket. The colour was a light dove grey and, embroidered in a dark thread, were the symbols for growth, strength and health.

“It’s an Illyrian baby blanket,” Nesta breathed.

Cassian nodded, his eyes not leaving her face. “Yes, mine.”

It was the only item his mother left with him at the training camp. She’d given the instruction to hide it and hide it well as the others would assume it as a sign of weakness. Cassian did exactly as he was told, burying it beneath a tree and only digging it up when the training camp moved to new ground.

For him it wasn’t a sign of vulnerability, it was a vestige, the last sacred remnant that someone had loved him. Now it was to be gifted onwards, now he had someone extra to love.

Nesta’s smiles were delicate things that could be snared by a passing doubt or remembered fear and which left her face almost as soon as they appeared. This smile, this wonderous smile now present, would be etched into Cassian’s memory forever.

“I don’t want the baby growing up without experiencing some of Velaris,” he said, “and I want it to see the Steppes but it’s going to be spending a lot of cold winters here. Even early spring has a bite so I decided it needed something warm.”

Nesta bundled the blanket up and touched the fabric to her face, rubbing it against her skin as if to test the softness.

“I want the baby to live where you’ll be most happy,” Cassian continued. “I would like to live where you’ll be most happy. Perhaps I could, in time?”

Nesta shot him a sly look. “Perhaps,” she said, “in time.” Cassian watched as she buried her nose in the blanket, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. “It smells of the sky somehow,” she said, “and the woods. It smells like you. Thank you.”

Nesta put the blanket down and leaned forward, kissing Cassian gently. His heartbeat raced in his chest like it always did when their lips touched.

She reached forward and took his hand placing his palm over the girth of her belly, resting hers on top. When she pressed in slightly there was a movement in response, a shifting of life that had been disturbed and so it kicked out in protest.

Cassian gasped. “That’s....”

“A foot,” Nesta continued, “she’s a kicker.”

Cassian grinned as he felt the kick again imagining small toes pressing against the inside of Nesta’s belly. “Wait,” he said as Nesta’s comment dawned on him, “she?”

“Yes, we’re having a girl.”

There was nothing he could say to that. A new fear now existed, to be a father of a daughter, to have two strong willed females in his life who would present him with new challenges that he couldn’t begin to fathom. The fear was part of the process, he knew this now, it would make him work harder.

Cassian would let fear sharpen him, make him stronger.

“We’re doing this,” he said, “we’re doing this together.”

Nesta smiled again, her fingers clasping round his.

“Yes,” she confirmed, “together.”

[tick-fic-nick]

Neighbors p1

Technos solitude didn't bother him too much. It was nice and quiet most days. He'd get to farm, read, and prepare for the arrival of a new government to take down. The monotony of it all calmed him.

However he didn't mind when his neighbors would stop for a visit. Phiza would stop by for nice chats, and Ranboo would walk in to deliver his (optional) rent. It was easy to know when philza would stop by from the knocking on his door and the cheerful greeting from the older man.

Ranboo however, was more sneaky about it.

Every once in a while the only way he could tell the half enderman was there, because his pets would know first. Steve would carve a direction with his eyes and he would follow the trZachail until he saw green/red eyes looking back at him.

The first couple times, it spooked him. However techno soon found out that this behavior was normal for the ender hybrid.

"Theres... there's literally a door a couple blocks away, Ranboo."

"Hmm? Oh! Yes, yes there is. Its uh... it's right there" he looked at the door for a second, recognizing its existence before staring right back towards techno in the window (obviously not getting the clue)

"Would you like inside? You could tell me what your doing here, unless you want to continue staring at me from the porch."

"Oh yes, I can do that." Walking towards the door and crouching to walk through it he stood in the room looking at him with a flower pot in his hand and placed on the ground "first off, here's your rent."

Techno looked down at the empty clay pot on the ground infront of him and he picked it up. "Oh right, the rent thing. You know you don't have to give me stuff, right?"

"But it's my rent."

"You don't have to pay me rent. There's no government to control the land up here. The land you've turned into your home is yours."

"Oh" the disappointment on Ranboos face was very apparent as his eyes shifted to the the corner wall. He looked back towards techno "then what's going to be my excuse to come over here then to talk with you?"

Techno was slightly taken a back from this question. Of course he didn't show it though. He chuckled and said "You need an excuse to walk to your friends house and chat? I mean you do consider us friends. Right Ranboo?" The light air in the room got heavy with the silence that grew until he got a reply.

"I mean I'm not sure. I've tried to become friends with you but... I dont know, you haven't been extremely friendly. I just thought I had to try harder."

"I haven't tried to kill you Ranboo. I'd say that's pretty friendly."

Ranboo had been shifting and moving this entire time. At this moment however he broke eye contact to look down. "I guess that's how you show that you're friendly. It's different than how I do, so I guess that's why I got confused."

Technoblade walked over towards the two seats and sat in one gesturing the Ranboo sit with him on the other comfortable chair, "Well, how do you show friendliness? That way I can be better friends with you."

The taller man made his way over to the open chair and sat down, though he didn't seem as comfortable as the other. "Oh, well I uh. I guess I show my friendliness through gifts and platonic affection... but you know it's, probably not your thing."

Techno had flashbacks to the SBI group and however one in the group was addicted to physical contact. Wilbur was the most cuddly person he'd ever met. When ever techno was alone with Wilbur, he was stuck to him like glue. Wilbur would lean into anyone who was around or everyone if he could. Tommy wasn't as much, but he'd lightly punch, shoulder, elbow, or kick everyone in a loving way. Philza was (and still is) big on nuzzling his head into other people. He'd nuzzle into necks during hugs, he'd nuzzle into chests while snuggling, and if he was tickling someone to bits he'd nuzzle with the intent to kill (with laughter.) The thought of it all was fond and something he almost missed.

"You know I think your going to like Philza." Without changing his expression he put his hand on Ranboos knee which earns techno a slight jump "And your right, its not really my thing. However. Since we're becoming better friends, I think ill be able to deal with it." A smirk grew on techno's face.

"Oh, uh ok! Well I'm happy that we're officially friends!" He stood up, making the hand on his knee return. "Now, I have a couple of things I need to do today but I'll visit more often."

"My door is always unlocked. Unless it is."

Ranboo laughed at that, and walked to the out the door.

____________________

Techno had a couple ideas of making his new friendship more affectionate over then next couple days, even pacing through the night trying to think. All of that hard work didn't even matter when he woke up to a familiar face staring back at him.

"You alright mate?" Philza was standing above him looking down at him on his couch chuckling at the sight. "Its nearly noon, and your not much of an night owl."

He began to sit up on the couch as he yawned "Well I've been trying to think of how I can make our new neighbor feel welcomed in a "touchy" way, but I dont think I'm very good at it. I was trying to think of how you would do it actually. Wait a second why are you in here!?"

Philza laughed at the pointed question "mate, I could here you snoring from outside. It's a once in a life time opportunity and I had to see if you were actually sleeping!" He laughed again to technos slight annoyance but he continued "And also, its a good thing I showed up! Or else who knows how late you might stay up next."

"Yeah yeah, just tell how to do this."

"You know your overthinking this way too much. It's the easiest thing ever to do. Just give him a hug." He opened his arms very wide almost inviting techno "you want me to demonstrate?"

Techno sighed "sure." He also opened his arms, standing up and hugged phil back. Phil's embrace was nice, he forgot how comforting they were. He leaned into the touch but squeaked when Phil started to subconsciously nuzzle into his neck. A place where he was very ticklish. He tried to squirm his way out but Phil held on tight and nuzzle even more, his stubble torture on his sensitive neck. "Whaiat phil!"

"I forgot how ticklish you are! Well this is another way you could be affectionate with Ranboo! Here let me demonstrate." Philza started to wiggle his fingers on technos sides while keeping him trapped in his grasp.

The blade was trying to laugh as best he could, locking up all the reactions within himself. Except for the bright red flush the spread on his face to his ears and his tail was flailing everywhere.

"Hmmm, not trying to laugh huh? I wonder if you'll break if I do this~?Phil's wings came to surround techno and rub against his ears and other side of his neck. That was what broke the damn.

Technos laughing bubbled out, his strength getting weaker and weaker the longer this attack went on, and it was almost impossible to keep standing. "Phihihhihil! Aaahaahahaha wahahait."

Phil leaned a bit trying to have him land on the couch but techno felt this and brought his arms around Philza in his own embrace tickling into the crook between his two wings while bringing him down with him.

Phil Gasped and stopped tickling techno giving him the opportunity to lay to the side of him. He sat up and enjoyed the full access he had to philza's worst spot. He dug in again, but this time at a better vantage point. Phil screamed in laughter kicking his legs and trying to grab at technos arms "AHAHHAHAHAH! WAHAIT WAHAIT! IT TIHIHIHIHICKLES TECHNO! IHIHIT TIHIHIHIHICKLES!"

"Yes, and thank you for letting me see that demonstration, now I know to do this, and this and this!" With each "this" he switched techniques from digging his fingers in, to lightly massage the skin under the feathers, to quickly skittering under his wing as a death spot.

Philza, feeling his death spot tickled spasmed his whole body. Hitting techno in the face with his wings, disorienting him.

Philza took the opportunity and quickly sat up putting his hands up in defence and defeat, hoping it would stop technos ruthless torture. His chest heaved in and out in huff of breath, and techno saw this and stopped his assault but not before skittering along Phil's palms, getting a snort and a well deserved smack. Phil smiled and said "okay okay -huff huff- you win! -huff- I'm done."

Just then, the door opened and Ranboo slowly walked in looking at his neighbors on the couch, both a little flustered. "Hey guys,uh everything alright?"

Techno stood up and walked to close the door "yes, everything's fine. Phil, here, was teaching me how to be affectionate with friends."

"Ah, I... see" he glanced over at Phil who still sit on the couch with a blush on his face, but he also had a mischievous grin. He looked back towards techno for an answer but all he saw was the same mischievous grin.

_____________________________

Part 2 coming soon!

[yodawgiherd]

You Were Never Truly Gone ch2

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Well, you guys asked for it, so enjoy a few chapters of my post-canon world. Thank you all so much for the lovely comments/kudos, I appreciate every single one of you <3 So for you all, I'm writing this - The end that I would want for Eren and Mikasa :)

It was a beautiful day today. Looking over the waves at the rapidly approaching Paradis shore, Armin couldn’t keep the excited smile away from his face. Soon, he would be seeing Historia again, and they would work together to achieve peace. But that was not all, he reminded himself, fist clenching over the feather in his hand.

Today he would see Mikasa and remember Eren with her.

It would mark three years since the end of the war and his sacrifice, and Armin couldn’t help it – he felt anxious. Mikasa was doing great usually, she was her own person and not a shadow in the past. But this day, when all of them gathered around the grave to thank the person that saved them, was always a trial by fire. He would be there for her, he and everyone else, they would help her push past and return to her normal self. That he swore, both to himself and his dead best friend.

“What are you thinking about?”, Annie’s voice from behind made him jump a bit in surprise.

“N-Nothing. Or well, the anniversary I guess…”

“I could say, anytime you are worried you get a wrinkle.”, Annie reached out, tapping the center of Armin’s forehead, “Rrrrrright here.”

With a smile he swiped her hand with his own, letting their fingers intertwine. The edge of Annie’s engagement ring felt cold against his skin, reminding Armin of the day when he finally gathered his courage and asked her the question. It still felt surreal sometimes, that he was engaged to her. Too good to be true.

“Can you two stop being so disgustingly in love?”, Pieck appeared on the deck, “I don’t want to throw up.”

She lit up a cigarette, watching the shore grow closer. Armin was tempted to let go of Annie’s hand because of Pieck’s request, but she tightened the hold and wouldn’t let him. Yea, Annie was never the one to let herself be pushed around.

“Are the guys ready?”, Armin asked instead, “We will be meeting the queen soon.”

“Jean keeps styling his hair and Connie is teasing Reiner because of the letter sniffing.”, she let out a large puff, watching the smoke curl in the salty sea air, “But other than that, we are good to go.”

Their work was important. Being a group from both the scouts and warriors they were the peacemakers, the ones that kept traveling between the nations to try and keep the fragile ceasefire brought upon by Eren’s actions. Armin’s mood turned sour. Eighty percent of the world was destroyed and still, the leaders were at each other’s throats. The sacrifice gave them chance, but it didn’t magically fix everything, there was still a lot of work to be done.

When the ship finally pulled into a harbor the rest of their group stepped out of the cabin. Jean, looking slick as ever, Reiner tailed by smirking Connie. Pieck threw the cigarette butt into the ocean, dusting herself off before meeting Armin’s eyes.

“Shall we?”

He nodded, throwing the feather into the ocean too. Over the gangway and down, Armin took a moment to help Annie jump down, help she didn’t need but appreciated nevertheless. The others noticed of course, and Jean was the one who spoke up.

“You get engaged and suddenly you are a gentleman, is that it?”, he grinned, “Whipped even before marriage, what a way to go.”

“Ah, as if you are the one to talk.”, Pieck pushed past him with a smile of her own, “I’m pretty sure you weren’t working so hard on your hair for the “history books”, were you?”

“It’s not like that…”

Ignoring whatever excuse he tried to voice, Pieck joined Armin and Annie on the shore, and soon they were gathered again. Then it was finally time to walk over to where Historia was standing in front of her honor guard, flanked by Kiyomi on her right.

“Ambassador Arlert,” rang the queen’s voice, loud and clear, “It is my pleasure to welcome you back to the Paradis island.”

“It is an honor, your majesty.”, bowing deep, Armin was mirrored on both sides by his friends, and when he straightened there was a spark of amusement in Historia’s eyes.

But protocol was protocol.

“I’m sure that you must be tired after your journey,”, the queen said, “Join me for some refreshment.”

Not waiting for an answer, as she was the queen, Historia turned and walked in the direction of the large tent, her guard splitting flawlessly to let her pass. It was a demonstration of military discipline and an effective one at that, making Armin frown. So much death, and it was not enough.

As soon as they were inside, away from the public eye, Historia changed immediately. Throwing herself onto him, she hugged Armin tight, grinning like a maniac.

“I missed you so much!”, she practically squealed, pulling back to look at the others, “All of you too!”

Catching up felt like regressing towards the old times. Armin was almost tempted to say careless, but that was never the truth with them. There was always something – first the titans, then the rumbling, and now whatever this fragile peace was. But there would be time to worry later, so Armin relaxed instead, letting Historia’s cheerfulness infect him. They talked about everything, about Armin and Annie’s engagement and Historia admired the ring on Annie’s finger, modeled after the one with a secret blade she used to wear. Jean recounted the events of their travels after, all the cities that they visited, and all the wonders that they saw since their last meeting.

But then the stories were told and it was time to get down to business.

“Historia,”, Armin said,” how is the situation here?”

Her happy smile soured immediately.

“Bad. The army holds a very important position in the government, and they are not giving it up. The Yeagerists and growing with every single month and I have no idea how to stop them.”, she frowned, “Every time I’m in the city I swear that I can hear them chanting that Fight, Fight.”

“Do you think that they planning to overthrow you?”, Reiner spoke up, but Historia shook her head.

“No, they have no reason to. I am not much more than a puppet queen at this point, they have most of the control, and keeping me as a figurehead lets them work in the background.”

“Can’t Kiyomi help you?”, Pieck asked, “Hizuru military is recovering well, from what I’ve heard.”

“She could, but she is not going to.”

“Why is that?”

“Kiyomi wants Mikasa, she wants her to come to Hizuru, marry and become shogun’s wife, continue the bloodline.”, Historia was annoyed, and it showed in her voice, “She expects me to tie Mikasa up, stuff her in a shipping crate and send her against her will. The hag.”

It made sense that the queen was extra against anything like that, her being in similar situation years back.

“And since I told her that she can go stuff it and I would never force Mikasa into that, Kiyomi grew sort of cold towards me.”

She sighed.

“But we can talk about that tomorrow when the formal meeting happens. Today you guys have other plans.”

“That’s true.”, Annie nodded, “We have to see Mikasa.”

“And Eren.”, Connie added.

“I wish I could go with you, but unfortunately I have a lot to do before we meet tomorrow.”, Historia walked over to Armin, hugging him again, “Give her my love, okay?”

She moved over to the exit, only stopping to add: “And him too.”

With the queen gone the group left the shore, ignoring the stares of the soldiers. Some called them traitors, Armin knew, the Yeagerist faction condemned their peace-making efforts as cowardness.

“Hey,”, Annie squeezed his hand, “Don’t mind them. They are fools.”

He smiled at his girlf-… fiancé. Damn.

“I know, but they are fools with power, and that’s dangerous.”

“I wonder if they would be this warmongering if they knew what Eren’s true goal was.”, Jean said, “All he wanted was peace.”

“It’s not like we can tell them, they would never believe us.”, Pieck had a new cigarette hanging from her lips, the burning tip moving when she spoke, “To them, Eren was a God of War that paved the way to Paradis supremacy.”

They didn’t speak more after that, passing the soldiers and heading out of the harbor. The island nation had grown considerably in the three years, and buildings with concrete replaced the once green fields. Yet that didn’t go on forever, and before too long they were walking in nature’s embrace again.

“Maybe we should have taken a car,” Connie huffed as they walked, “Or a horse.”

“The exercise will do you good.”, Annie called over her shoulder with the typical cold expression.

“We do have a horse,”, Reiner tapped Jean’s shoulder, “Right here.”

“Hah, that was a good one, maybe you could make those jokes more often if you didn’t spend so long on sniffing the queen’s letters.”, Jean shot back.

Back and forth they bickered while Pieck smoked with an enigmatic smile, Armin and Annie leading the group while holding hands. There it was, the familiar field with trees, a lone hill in the middle. Excited to see Mikasa again, Armin let go of Annie and broke into a run, leaving his friends behind. They all ran like this, years back, with Eren in front and Mikasa right behind him, letting him take the lead. Armin was always hopelessly last in those races, but he never did mind hat. Now, he was the only one running.

Up and up, over the green grass and to the tree where Eren’s final resting place was. With a smile, Armin finally got high enough to get a view of that place, but the greeting shout on his lips died when he saw what was happening. Yes, Mikasa was indeed there, but that was not all. Far from it.

Stunned by the scene in front of him, Armin stared, watching the stranger kiss his friend with fervor. Their kissing was passionate and Mikasa was more than into it, her hands roaming all over the stranger's back. If that was not proof enough, Armin knew that she has the ears of a huntress and could easily hear him coming, but she was too deep in the moment to notice. Blushing slightly, feeling like he was intruding, Armin silently walked down the hill where the group just arrived, everyone looking at him with a question on their faces.

“What’s wrong?”, Reiner was the first one to speak, “Is Mikasa not there?”

“She is… it’s just…. I…”, Armin scratched the back of his neck, looking everywhere but not at his friends.

How was he supposed to explain this? Yet when Annie stepped closer, taking a hold of his cheek and forcing him to meet her gaze, her icy eyes speared right through and pinned him in place.

“Armin, what happened?”

Yeah, he could not hide the truth from her.

“Mikasa is there, but she’s not alone.”

“What are you talking about?”

“She is with… someone…”

Now everyone was speaking over one another.

“What?”

“Who?”

“What the…”

“Is she okay?”

“Is he…”

It would probably go on forever if Annie didn’t raise a hand, calming the mess. When they all fell silent, she fixed Armin with her famous stare, letting a single word fall from her lips.

“Talk.”

So, Armin took a deep breath. And talked.

“Mikasa is sitting near Eren’s grave but she’s not alone. She’s making out with someone, and from what I saw she’s enjoying it very much.”

A stunned silence followed, the cigarette falling from Pieck’s shocked mouth. Somewhere high overhead, a bird darted towards the endless horizon.

“Well, I… Uhm… Guess we should be happy that she’s finally moved on?”, the words were awkward, and Reiner knew that, but he pushed them out, “I’m glad that she.. you know... found someone?”

“I agree but does she have to do in front of Eren?”, Pieck said, her brows furled in a frown.

“That does not sound like her at all.”, Annie agreed.

“What, you guys think that he minds?”, Connie noted, “Like.. is he watching her or something?”

“It’s disrespectful, that’s what it is.”, Jean was staring at the tree, voice tense, “He doesn’t deserve that, having his girl kiss a stranger on his own grave.”

“Mikasa is not his girl,” Annie disagreed, “He doesn’t own her.”

“I didn’t mean it like that….”

“Regardless,” Pieck cut in, “I think that it would be best to let Mikasa speak for herself.”

Taking the lead, she took the first steps towards the tree.

“Let’s go.”, Annie agreed, following her friend.

Soon all of them were moving.

Mikasa was still there in the same position, Armin noticed, still in the arms of that stranger. His back was to them and her eyes were closed so she didn’t see them coming, immersed in the kissing, the whole situation made only worse by the small giggle that left her lips when the guy pulled back for a moment. Look, Armin loved seeing her happy, but watching it happen here felt… wrong.

The pair totally ignored them, lost in the kissing, neither of them noticing the group that was a few feet away from them. Finally fed up with it, Jean cleared his throat, loud enough for them to hear. Mikasa’s eyes shot open as she pulled back from the kiss, her cheeks reddening immediately. Her gaze shot between the stranger’s face and them, embarrassment evident.

Slowly, very slowly the guy untangled himself from her arms, standing up and pulling Mikasa to her feet too. Only then did he turn, and Armin’s mind went blank.

No.

There was a ghost in from of him. A blushing enemy of humanity with kiss-swollen lips that didn’t let go of Mikasa’s hand after helping her stand, keeping them linked. An island devil that looked at each and every member of their group with a fond smile. Next to that beast, Mikasa hid her face in the red scarf, eyes ticking between everyone. The grave was still there, Armin saw, the small headstone with those fond words on it, a few flowers lying on the patch of ground. And yet….

The dead man, the walking corpse, the impossible, he opened his mouth and spoke.

“Hey guys, long time no see.”

[kibybun]

Pocky Game

Yandere Hawks x reader

Tw: Yandere, murder, implided non con/rape

Enjoy!

You huffed as you lean against a tree to help you catch your breathe. You had been hiking for around an hour now trying to find a private area to camp.

Today was a long awaited day for you and your two bestfriends. For them it was a much needed vacation while for you it was your chance to actually talk to them due to the fact they were always busy. Busy saving the day as two of the most popular heros.

Hawks and Mirko, but of course they go by Keigo and Rumi when they are with you.

The three of you have known each other for years now, becoming nearly inseparable.

"Hey guys... is this far enough?" They both laugh at how out of breathe you are.

"Hehe c'mon (y/n)! Who knew you were so lazy!" Keigo pats your head and leaves his hand there.

"Hehe be nice to (y/n), they brought all the food!" Rumi's hand falls onto your shoulder.

Little did you know that Keigo was scowling at Rumi as she stared at you with odd look on her face.

"Yeah Keigo! Be nice to me or no chicken!" You swirl around to look at the rabbit and the bird.

Keigo looks hurt that youd even say that. "No! I'll be good I swear!" He flings himself onto you and almost knocks you over.

"Woah there Keigo, dont hog (y/n) all for yourself!" Rumi pries him off of you only to trap you in her embrace.

"Hehe guys~! I love you guys too but we need to set up our tent!"

They stop fighting over you and blush, thinking you ment it differently than you did.

The two of them start to set up the tent while get the fire started. While they put up the tent it almost seems like they're competing. It's very subtle but evident due to the fact that you've known them so long.

Everytime the three of you do something the two of them always make it a competition, and everytime they made you chose someone. Whenever they make you do this you choose to reward one with praise. Then when the next competition happens you choose the other, so everything is fair.

Keigo jumps up and looks at you. "(Y/n)! Look, the tents up! Who's side is better?"

He gestures to his side suggestively while Rumi points to her's. You take a second to decide. Keigo's side was better but you let him win last time.

"Rumi's! Sorry Keigo." You try to smile at him but he turns his head and scowls.

Odd.

You were about to ask him what's wrong but you were interrupted by Rumi tackling you in a hug, again. You laugh it off and hug her back, unable to see Keigo staring angrily at the two of you.

You eventually escape her grasp and start to cook the food.

"How cooked do you guys want your chicken legs?"

"Crispy with a side of you~!" Rumi sends you a flirty look but you just laugh it off.

"Of course! Only if I get a piece of that!" You continue to laugh unable to see Rumi blushing while Keigo's face is flushing red with anger. "How do you want yours Keigo?"

"I dont care." His answer was short and harsh leaving you stunned.

"Keigo what's wrong?"

"Nothing." He gets up and starts to walk away. "I'll be back."

"Uh.. ok be careful though!" You and Rumi look at each other confused as Keigo goes to release his anger.

When he comes back the chicken is cooked and his knuckles are bloody. He sits and tries to grab something to eat but you stop him.

"Oh my god Keigo are you ok?!" You rush over and hold his hands to examine his knuckles. You notice the tiny bits of bark in his wounds but his smirk went unnoticed.

"I'm fine but it would be better if you kissed it."

You and Rumi were both taken aback by his statement. But he had the most innocent smile you've ever seen, so you do it.

His smile only grows as your lips gently press against each wound and smear a tiny bit of his blood onto you lips as Rumi has to sit there and watch.

Once you've kissed each knuckle you lick you lips, cringing at the metallic taste of his blood.

"Uh ok, l-lets eat now..." You try to pull away but he pulls you back into his lap.

You tense, not sure what he plans for you. His arms tighten around your waist and he nuzzles his face into your neck.

You look at Rumi for help but she looked just as panicked as you did.

"Keigo can you please let me go? I n-need to eat..."

"No. You can feed the both of us." You weren't able to see the dangerous glare he sent Rumi.

"Uh ok..."

The three of you spend the next ten or so minutes eating in awkward silence.

The sun was starting to set as well and you were getting cold.

"Keigo?"

"Hm?"

"C-can you let go? I wanna grab my hoodie." He looks upset but let's you go nonetheless.

While up, you grab your hoodie and a box of pocky. You already ate dinner so it's fine to have dessert.

When you return with the box Rumi's face lights up.

"No way! You got pocky!?" She jumps up and reaches for your snack but you pull it out of her reach last moment.

"Nope! These are mine and I'm not letting either of you eat them!"

"But we can play a game with them!"

"What game- hey!" You let your guard down and she stole you snack. "The pocky game!"

"The pocky game?" Both you and Keigo ask in unison.

"Yeah! It's basically a game of chicken!"

"Oh?" Your interest was peaked.

"Yeah! Come here (y/n)! You and me demonstrate!"

"Ok."

You get closer to her and she sticks one end of the pocky into your mouth as Keigo watches intensely. Rumi takes the other end in her mouth and takes a bite.

You understand how to play now.

You take another bite and she takes another. Now your faces were close but not close enough for you to pull away.

Suddenly the pocky was pulled from you lips and hers were pressed against yours. You were startled but were even more startled when Rumi was tackled to the ground by Keigo.

"How could you!?! How could you do that!?" His voice rings out but no one hears but you.

Keigo uses his feathers to hold her in place as he begins to saw off her lips. You wanted nothing more than to go help her but her ear shattering screams left you frozen in fear.

How? Why? Why would he do this?

He finishes and throws Rumi's lips into the fire.

You can hear them sizzle.

nShe tries to speak but was stopped due to the fact she was gargling her own blood.

"R-rumi..." You voice trembles as you try to hold back sobs.

"Say her name again and I'll cut your lips off too." His voice was low, like a growl, as he continued to look at Rumi.

That's when you lost control you body as your knees bend and the tears flow.

Rumi tries to say something again but was cut off as Keigo stabbed her chest. You can never forget the sound of her screams and the squish of his blade into her gut oh so many times.

After what seemed like minutes, he stands. Blood dripping from his as he turns to you. You cry even harder as you see his face splattered with her blood and the tiniest bit of her white hair sticking to him.

"Now that that annoying rodent is out of the way I can finally have you to myself." He steps towards you with open arms and a wicked smile plastered on his face.

You take a step back terrified but that only seemed to upset him. He looks at you and scowls before pinning you to the ground harshly.

"I just got rid of that rodent. Why aren't you happy?" You squirm under his grasp trying to get away. "Tell me you love me, just like you did earlier."

You look away from him as you speak, too terrified to look him in the eyes.

"I l-l-love you..."

"Again but look at me."

You look at him.

"I love you..."

"Again."

"I love you..."

"Say my name too this time."

"I love you... K-keigo..." You choke out a sob.

"Awe, what's wrong? Sad you couldn't kiss me? Dont worry, I don't need a stupid game to do that." He kisses you gently but it still makes you freeze.

"Now I have you all to myself..." His voice was hushed and excited.

"N-no... please..." Your voice was shaking but he didnt seem to notice.

"Shhh I'll go gentle. I want to treasure this. Oh! And if you try to scream no one will hear you, you know that right?" He smirks as he starts to kiss down your jaw line.

You cant run. He's too fast.

You cant hide. He's too smart.

You cant scream. No one will hear.

You were stuck with a soon to be rotting corpse and a full box of pocky. Out in the hills. Where no one could find you. All because you wanted to be with your friends.

You wish you've never met them.

Kiby~💚

[that-damn-girl]

(4) Bucky and The Bed

Completed

Chapter 3

Bucky and The Bed Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (cis)fem!reader

Words: 3800+

Summery: You and Bucky are stranded in the middle of a snowy nowhere when there is an ‘electronic blackout’ during your mission. With no back ups or any way to contact your team, you take refuge from the worsening weather in the only cabin you find  in miles. Not to mention, with no power, Bucky has become your personal heater and there’s only one bed.

Chapter type: Fluff.

Chapter/Trigger warning: Self depreciating thoughts. No smut but mentions of getting stimulated. Language.

A/N: A huge thank you to @writeyourmindaway for letting me use their lovely dividers used below. Check out this for other awesome dividers made by her.

Climbing the steps of the cabin, the comms felt heavy in Bucky’s hand. A week, his mind kept repeating. Bucky wondered how you’d react to the news he’d brought along.

At first, he’d liked the idea of being with you and only you for one entire week very much. It sounded very appealing to him. Sure, he’d never try anything with you to jeopardize his friendship, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy spending some alone time with you. There were no worries for unscheduled last minute missions or the time ticking for the planned ones. He’d be the only one getting your undivided attention. He felt giddy and low-key wanted to squeal with excitement. It’d be an entire week of being with you; being near you.

And that thought scared him when his brain drifted back to the incident of the previous night. You’d be stuck with him in close quarters; and yes, you’d be in danger of him hurting you. Though he was happy, he didn’t know if you would be. Despite what you said, he knew he’d given you a scare last night. He wondered if you’d too be happy about it or if you’d dread it. Somewhere in his heart he knew it’d be the former, but his anxiety feeded at him like a starved at a buffet.

Stalling his negative thoughts, he willed his mind to not jump to conclusions as he entered the cabin. He hoped to find you in front of either of the fireplaces soaking the heat. When he didn’t see you in any of the rooms, he checked the bathroom. You weren’t there either. His anxiety returned full force.

Assuming the worst, he called your name as he checked through the windows. He saw you then, at some distance on the backside of the cabin, where he couldn’t have seen you while entering. With an ax in hand, you appeared to be chopping woods. He sighed in relief, cursing for having worked himself over for nothing.

Leaving the house again, he approached you. From his angle, he had a perfect view of your ass in the air everytime you bent down to pick up another piece of log. If it hadn’t already from the jogging, he was sure his mouth had become dry just looking at you. He worked had to keep the wild thoughts of your round butt at bay. It was proving to be difficult.

So invested in the job at hand, you hadn’t heard his muffled voice call out your name earlier.  Having it instilled in his nature, he walked towards you with the lightness of a feather, his boots not making much sound. You hadn’t heard him coming until he was just a few steps behind. Your training overtook the control as you clutched the ax in one hand and retrieved the gun from your thigh holster in the other, immediately turning around and taking a defensive stance.

Bucky stopped dead in his tracks at the abruptness, “Come on, Y/N, it’s just me.” He said. Relief washed over you as you dropped your weapons. It was just Bucky. And he was back.

“Hey,” You stepped towards him, eyes washing him over with concern, “You alright?”

Bucky smiled, “Everything’s good.”

“What happened? Were you able to contact them?” You asked Bucky with hope dripping out of your voice. He chewed his bottom lip, his thoughts taking the best of him. Deciding it would be no good to stall the eventual, he told you all about his conversation with Sam.

“So the effect would wear off? That’s great! A week’s no big deal.” You shrugged, trying really hard not to let your excitement surface, a beautiful smile gracing your gorgeous features. Bucky grinned, glad you weren’t too upset.

Inwardly, you were dancing with joy. A week with Bucky! Just the two of you and seven nights in that bed. Oh, may lord forgive the perverted images that were entering your head at the prospect.

“It’s good that you started on them.” Bucky said, looking at the impressive pile of firewood you had already gathered.

“Yeah. We already exhausted what we had. Though without any heating system, we’ll need much more than this.” You said, picking up your ax.

Bucky nodded, “Do we have another ax?”

“Yeah, I think I saw a bunch of them in there.” You nodded towards the cabin.

Bucky soon brought the tool and went to work. The thuds of metal striking wood could be heard loud and clear in the isolated environment, leaving an unpleasant pang in your eardrums. You breathed hard as you brought down the blade against the hard wood, white puffs coming out of your mouth with each exhale. Your motions continued, eager to be over with the job.

After a long time of straining your muscles, you took a break and chanced a glance at Bucky. Splintering the logs in swift and clean strikes with his muscular arms, he looked like a natural. The plates in his metal arm shifted with every stretch he did. Brows furrowed on the hard planes of his face, you imagined how he’d look like a lumberjack. The mental image made your mouth water.

Without giving much thought, you called out, “Hey, Bucky, I bet you could split them with your bare hands.”

He looked at you, eyebrows raised, “Really? You think so?” He sounded very unsure.

“Yeah,” You nodded, “Go on, try once.” You sat on wooden stump you were using.

He picked up one of the uncut logs, curious to try but unsure how to hold it. After he examined it for a moment, he kept one end of it on his chest and dug his fingers on the other end. To his surprise, when his metal fingers dug in creating a crack he didn’t have much problem in splitting the log in half with a loud grunt.

Though he liked the moment of testosterone flowing through him, making him feel masculine; like a very manly man, he wasn’t sure if he liked that in front of you. He had broken so many things with his hands. After last night, he didn’t want you to witness any act of aggression which involved his arm, specially if you were to be trapped with him for the next few days. Hearing a loud gasp he looked at you.

If your heart wasn’t beating fast from all the chopping you did, it was sure as hell racing now. If that wasn’t one of the hottest, most nerve wrecking, panty dropping things you hadn’t witnessed. His face contorting from all the pressure he put; the nerves getting strained in his neck; the brute force he used; the loud gravely grunt which left his lips, the rise and drop of his large and beefy chest as he breathed. It all made you wet, unforgivably so. You couldn’t help the gasp escaping your mouth.

Bucky looked at your wide eyed expression. Your mouth was hung open. You quickly recovered, not wanting to make a fool yourself, “That was so cool!” You gushed, trying to make him believe you were not just wishing he’d strip you down and have his way with you, “I wish I could do that!” You truly did.

Bucky was confused with your reaction, not in the least bit understanding what about it was appealing to you. He tentatively said, “You’re not…It doesn’t…scare you?” He looked towards his metal arm, dropping the wood and tightening his fist.

Your heart drummed still, but to the tunes of heartbreak more than anything else. Until yesterday, he was making great progress with coming in terms to and loving and appreciating all of him. He knew that. You knew that. But suddenly one set back happened and it sent all the process he’d made went tumbling down the drain.

You couldn’t let that happen; you wouldn’t let that happen.

You made your way to him and took his metal arms in your hands. Bucky saw with a tensed look as you opened up his fist. It felt heavy in your hands and you loved the weight of it. Slowly, you brought his palm towards yourself and kissed each of his fingertips gingerly, softly; taking your time with each tip. Bucky’s face became expressionless, but his eyes betrayed everything.

Giving one last peck to the inside of his palm, you kept it on your cheek and cupped it with your own, “Tell me Bucky,” You rubbed the outside of his palm in soothing circles, “What am I supposed to be afraid of?”

You looked into his eyes with nothing but softness; daring to him to continue believing what he did.

A lump formed in Bucky’s throat. He couldn’t speak those words with you looking at him like that, but he did, “I can hurt you, Y/N.” The pain abounding in his eyes exhibited itself on his face too.

“But will you?” You asked, eyes unwavering from his.

“Y/N, you know I’d never.” He looked down, unable to hold the intensity of your gaze at him, “But what if I lose control?”

“Bucky,” You moved closer, bringing one hand to him and making him look at you, “Honey, you don’t give yourself enough credit. Last night you didn’t lose control-”

“Then what’s this?” He hissed, grabbing your right arm and shoving up the sleeves. The bruises on your wrist unambiguously in the shape of his metal fingers gaped at you, “You were just trying to help me, and I did that to you.”

You broke away from him, lifting your layers a little to show the already fading bruises on your abdomen, “Look at these. These are bruises as well, and I got them while fighting those goons. I wouldn’t have been here; wouldn’t have been an Avenger if I wouldn’t be able to handle a few mere bruises. I am not enhanced, Bucky, but I am not fragile either!”

Bucky looked remorseful. You walked to him, taking his hand back in yours, “Tell me Bucky…when you were approaching me and I didn’t hear you, I raised my weapons at you. I thought you were an enemy. Are you mad at me for that?”

Bucky shook his head vigorously. What sort of a question was that? Of course he wouldn’t be mad at you for something like that. But before he could verbally answer, you continued, “What if I hadn’t waited to look who it was and straight up attacked you? I had an ax and a gun, Bucky, and they are no child’s play.”

Bucky cupped your cheeks, “But you didn’t, doll.” He shook his head again, “You were protecting yourself. You didn’t let the fear overtake your actions.” When you looked at him calm countenance and raised your eyebrows, Bucky mulled hard over his words, taking in what he’d just said.

“Exactly! Sweety, we are trained to protect ourselves. What you did last night was in self preservation. You don’t need to be sorry for that.” You encompassed his fingers in yours as you said.

“Bucky, I am so proud of the man you are today. Sam is so proud. You’ve risen above the man they made you to be. It wasn’t you who chose to do those things, but it’s you deciding what you want to do now.”

“Doll…” Bucky started, but you interrupted.

“No, you listen to me.” You dragged his metal arm away from your face and held it up, closing your fists around it, “This is beautiful, Bucky. Just like you.” You held his arm close to you, “You help who you want to, you hurt who you want to. Just like you trusted me that I wouldn’t shoot you or swing at you, I know for a damn fact that hell would break lose before you’d seriously injure me. Stop underestimating me or doubting my words.”

Bucky’s eyes glazed over. His feelings couldn’t transform into words for what he had to say. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve to friend a like you by his side, “You’re right. I’m sorry, I underestimated you, Y/N. I- I let my insecurities get the better of me.” He tugged you, hugging you close to him, his head resting on yours, “Thank you so, so much, Y/N.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Bucky. I know you’d do the same for me.” You said, snuggling your head into his chest.

“I want to.” He simply replied.

Since Wakanda, Bucky had started being at peace with the fact that what he was made to do for all those years ago was none of his fault. The torture he was made to do on the mostly innocent for 70 years was not something he could forget easily though. Years later, he was still in the process today of not blaming himself. He always reminded himself that he was only a vessel and not the evil intention whenever his mind overran.

But it was a process, a course; bound to get rocky and disturbed by hurdles at one point or the other. And even if nothing more, you were his friend. One he had chose to confided in and trusted enough to show the most vulnerable parts of himself.

If there were going to be insecurities, you dared them to come his way. You’d help him jump all the hurdles he’d let you, and if he wouldn’t, you’d find a way to assist him anyway. Always. Because he was your friend and you were his.

Hours later, you sat on the couch with your shoulders and back sore and strained. You’d acquired enough firewood to use leisurely in the duration of your stay, and even then the owners of the cabin would be left with a mighty amount. You were satisfied with your hardwork, but your muscles screamed and wailed and pitched insults at you.

You’d spent nearly the entire day chopping and storing the wood with Bucky. Throughout dinner, you kept tilting your head right and left in an attempt to stretch the hardened muscles of your neck and shoulders. You rolled your shoulder joints at several intervals, but all was in vain.

Your back was a different story altogether. They treated you with unrelenting vengeance. You sat straight, it hurt. You slouched, it still hurt. You tried to shift in different positions on the couch without disturbing Bucky, but no matter what you did you never found any pose comfortable enough.

You knew you should’ve stretched.

“Sore muscles?” Bucky asked, glancing at you.

“It’s worse than weight lifting, Bucky.” You whined. He laughed.

“Didn’t stretch?” You deeply regretted not doing just that. At least the pain wouldn’t have been such a bitch.

“Okay,” You drawled, “Mistakes happen. I didn’t think it’d be that straining. Move on!”

“I can give you a massage if you want.” He offered.

Yes please, your brain screamed. You knew you wouldn’t have to strip in this freezing climate. He’d massage you with your clothes still on. Yet the thoughts of his hands running over your covered body and tending to your muscles was enough to bring out the squealing schoolgirl inside you. You couldn’t have Bucky see that side of you though. In order to seem composed, you cleared your throat, “You know how to give massages?” You asked, intrigued.

“I am not a masseuse, so don’t expect anything grand. But I am sure I can relieve some tension in your muscles.” He shrugged. You knew what he was talking about, but your mind didn’t hesitate in developing an entirely new kind of tension in a different group of your muscles. Only if he could relieve those as well.

“Yeah, well, that’d be great!” You hoped you didn’t squeak. You stood from the couch, ready to move to the bed.

Bucky looked at you with confusion as you moved, “Where you going?”

“The bed.” You answered, turning to him. Looking at his clueless expression, your face burned. Oh, had he not meant it to be on the bed? Did he want to do it on the couch? Of course he did. You cursed yourself as you tried not to stutter, “I- I mean, I thought it’d be easier there?” You didn’t know if it was a statement or a question.

“Oh- um, yes, that’d be easier.” Bucky said, feeling extremely dumb. What kind of a doofus gives massages on a couch? The Bucky kind, he thought.

Inside the bedroom, you removed a couple of layers before laying down on the bed on your stomach in your side of the bed. Your arms laid were freely by your side as your head rested sideways. After stoking the fire, Bucky joined you.

When you laid on your front, your butt somehow seemed to be pushed up as if waiting to pop out. It looked rounder and much more plump than usual. Bucky tried very hard not to think about it, “Relax and keep your muscles free. Take a slow and deep breath. Tell me if anywhere it hurts or if it’s too much pressure. I am starting with your lower back, all right?” You nodded.

Sitting on his knees sideways near you, Bucky was mindful not to touch your raised ass. Using the whole of his hands, he started at the bottom of your back. Flexing at the wrists so as to not apply too much pressure, he patted his hands up and down on your back in quick and agile motions.

Wanting to toy with him, you said, “What, you call clapping my back a massage?”

“Oh, shut up. I told you to relax. I’ve just started. You’ll soon see what I call a massage, honey.” He said, smirks spread on both your faces.

Bucky continued it for sometime. Moments later, you couldn’t deny the stimulating and compressive effect it had on your tissue.

Then he glided the inside of his palm and fingertips in the short, circular motions, kneading lightly, maintaining long and even strokes. Slowly, his hands inched upwards and covered your entire back before coming back down and starting again. He kneaded your shoulder and lower neck everytime he reached there. The motion was so soothing you closed your eyes and just enjoyed the feel of it.

He started light, but as the pressure applied by him increased gradually with the passing minutes, you could feel your muscles ease and unwind. It felt as if the tension in them started flying away as his hands worked. God, did it feel good. Without meaning to, you let out a soft moan.

You didn’t realise that, but Bucky definitely did. His hands stopped for a second, worried he’d used too much force but then your voice said, “Wow, Bucky, you’re good. I didn’t know you could massage so well.”

He started again, “Uh, thanks.” He alternated between pressing and kneading hardly and lightly in his laps. It worked like magic on your hardened tissues. You couldn’t stop the low yet undeniable moans which left you.

But Bucky’s ears were much more sensitive, as were the other parts of him. Nothing really was low for him.

After continuing the kneading, his changed his motions. Bringing together his fingers like a lobster claw near your lower back, his fingers started pushing the skin back towards his thumbs like one would fold paper fans. His thumbs flattened the rolls of flesh meeting them as his hands moved up. The layers covering you made it hard, but it still had a soothing effect.

“Is this okay?”

“Perfect.”

’Ooh’s and ’Aah’s left your mouth every now and then as he continued. They were accompanied with so much feelings from you that he couldn’t keep his mind straight. Though another part of him had no qualms about being anything but straight.

Thumbs extended, he next pushed down gently on either side of your spine. His thumbs moved forward, angled towards your feet.

As he glided his thumbs, the knots in your cramped muscles were further relieved. You felt heavenly as your muscles loosened up. Your appreciation came from the unintelligible noises you made. As the pressure applied by his hands increased, so did the intensity of your moans, and so did his member. Bucky was having a very hard time.

The final string broke when he worked on your acu-points. The moans you made were loud and powerful enough to hide his grunts. They were downright sinful. If there were any chances left of him not being hard by then, they were undoubtedly fulfilled.

His mind immediately shifted to all those massage porn videos he had ever seen. He remembered how they started with either the masseuse starting to stimulate the customer or the customer noticing the masseuse’s hard situation and taking care of it.

However, if anything here which was stimulated or was taken care of, they were your muscles. That too of the shoulders and back only.

He couldn’t stop his actions for the risk of you finding out the reason. You couldn’t stop expressing just how good he made you feel. There were a whole lot of ’couldn’t’s and very less ’could’s for his liking.

He continued though. Only for you. Anything for you.

After a long, long while, he sat back and criss-crossed his legs. He put a pillow on his lap before he asked, “You good?”

You gave out a very content sigh. You felt relaxed and refreshed, the muscles feeling smooth as butter as you rolled your shoulders. The pain and soreness you felt had vanished, replaced by a calming sense of ease.

Turning to lay on your back, you held his hand, “Good? Bucky, I’m great! More than great, in fact. You were amazing! Thank you so much! I really needed that.“

“It was nothing.” Bucky smiled. At least one of you got what you wanted. And then he saw you get under the covers, ready to head to sleep.

Being stuck with you, he didn’t know if it was his good luck or bad. He was near you, and yet he wasn’t. He could touch you, but he couldn’t touch you.

Thinking about how he had to sleep near you and not with you, Bucky wanted to weep when he felt himself twitch under the pillow.

Why does it always have to be me?

The divider is made by @writeyourmindaway​

Chapter 5

Blog’s Main Masterlist  || Taglists Thank you for reading! 

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 46- Fractures

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

The hermits discover it’s not just Dolios feeling the repercussions of their work. 

___________________________________________

Litow wasn’t very far for the likes of Cub, even though it was all the way on the other side of Lairyon. In between Kilton and Addows, on the lower peninsula of the crescent shaped kingdom, it was one of the furthest places from Eremita and the Ashioll sea. 

But with Cub’s portal magic, and only three other people to teleport, it was no more than a skip, hop, and a jump. Even better, he’s been to Addows before, so he knew exactly where to go with his magic. Doc was the brave first soul to step through the portal and out into the open world, and kept watch while Scar, BDubs, and Cub passed over as well. 

Lucky for them, there was very little presence of arcane guard in Addows, and they’ve only passed one patrol along the road since they began their journey. Doc was ready to fight tooth and nail, remind the guard that they aren’t going to be cowardly criminals. But BDubs yanked him into the bush he had created seconds before Doc could get his words out. 

It’s been a few weeks since they all became wanted criminals, Lairyon’s most wanted. Admittedly, things have gotten harder. None of them can show their faces at Snapdragon port, which is crawling with guards and Gedeons. All of their suppliers have cut them off. Luckily, they have BDubs’s garden and a whole sea of fish. On their missions, they can’t take main roads, can’t saunter into wherever they’re needed. Even the villages they’ve come to help will meet them with a mix of hope, disdain, and downright hostility. They have to prove themselves as well as battle off husk storms and darkness crystals. Dolios has turned the whole nation against them. He’s turned the heroes into villains. 

It wasn’t the entire town of Litow that asked for their help. A single letter, written by a young boy who had heard stories from another group of wizards, of the hermits and their escapades. Scar looks down at the note as they walk, reading over it once more. 

The boy’s parents are missing, and even when he tries to use his own magic- very proudly declared to be arbor magic- the forest that Litow sits at the edge of refuses to bend to his will. Most of the village’s magic has disappeared, and now so are its people. At night, howls of creatures keep anyone from leaving their beds, much less their house. 

If Scar has ever read a classic evil black crystal infestation, it would be this. For sure the work of Dolios is plaguing this town. “Litow isn’t a small village. It’s no town like Coral Shores or Shellor, but it’s not as little as Gildara either.” 

“Dolios is getting stronger.” Doc growls, his shoulders bent forward as he marches down the road. “He’s getting braver, stealing magic from greater sources. He’s leveling up. Next, it’ll be the towns. Then the cities.” 

“Doc does have a point. Everyone loves him, no one would suspect it’s Magistrate Dolios causing this corruption across Lairyon.” Cub waves his hand flippantly, as if batting away flies rather than his unfinished thoughts. 

“I’m surprised he hasn’t started blaming us for that.” BDubs sighs. “Do you think people are starting to notice that this is happening? Do you think news has spread about the darkness?” 

“If it is, then the Council is surely stifling it.” Cub picks up a rock, holding it in the palm of his hand. Beneath the stone, blue embers of magic curl and twist into his magic circle, and a second later the rock is gone. A parlor trick, but still fun for Cub. “But they can’t stop ideas from growing, and it’s clear from this letter that news is getting around. About the dark magic and us.”

The quad rounds a bend, the road meandering with the creek bed, turning and guiding them to the interface of forest and field. At the edge of the two environments, Litow sits. Three hermits stop, and Doc reaches out to grab BDubs and yank him back from proceeding as the others take initial notes of the mission before them. 

Litow seemed to still have it’s color, though one building nearest to the forest edge has become entangled in the grey wisps, slowly being claimed, siphoned of life. The town still held it’s people, bustling as if nothing was wrong, continuing to cut lumber and plant trees in an everlasting cycle of give and take. 

Scar takes a step back, not sure if he wants to test his luck with a bunch of Lumberjacks. If they preferred Dolios’s story, he can just imagine the damning blow their axes could deal, with or without magic. Scar rubs his neck nervously, glancing to Doc. 

Doc keeps moving. He holds his head high as they enter the town, meeting the lingering gazes as they walk past. Daring anyone who even thinks of turning them in to face his wrath. And while most people don’t say a thing, the others can all tell the lumberjacks are thinking it. 

But one brave lumberjack dares to step between Doc and the shadowed forest edge. She places her hands on her hips, tall enough that Even Doc has to look up. “Yer kind ain’t allowed here. Git before I call the guard on you. Could pay for all the lost work we’ve had lately.” 

“We’re here to help that!” BDubs chitters, though he’s quaking in his sandals. “I mean, not the work thing directly, but we can bring your magic back!” 

“I ain’t listening to no lies from a buncha mercenaries. If the magistrate don’t trust ya, I don’t either.” The lumberjack hefts her axe onto her shoulder, the blade as wide as Scar’s chest. Even Doc decides it’s best not to pick a fight, and retreats from the town. 

“Well now what do we do?” Cub questions, watching the timber town return to work, though not without keeping an eye on the four outsiders. 

“Psst! Hey! Over here!” The men turn, and see a boy more than halfway out a window of a log cabin, waving with a toothy grin. As they near, the boy chatters excitedly. “Oh I’m so glad you came my best friend’s sister saw you guys in Danes and when I saw what was happening here I knew I should get a letter to you guys. My aunt Bethy thinks yer a buncha thugs but i know the truth my parents always said I was smart!” 

The boy points over to the forest, the tangle of trees and bushes, most of it sapped of life by dark magic. “My family’s house is all sad and grey now, but it wasn’t like that until recently. Before, we just thought it was the forest preparing for winter early.” 

“So the crystal must be in the forest.” Cub notes, looking at the canopy of trees, green canopies marred by grey tendrils, sprouted up into an ashen cloud. The boy nods, earning a sincere pat on the head from Scar. “Thanks kiddo, you’re our hero today.” 

The group leaves their tiny informant and the town that doesn’t want them behind, and BDubs uses his own plant magic to crest a path through the foliage. They pass by young trees, growing tall with the aid of the arbor mages and their familiars, logs freshly cut with the sap still flowing like blood, and stumps of the felled, waiting to be reclaimed or burned to make way for new life. 

They’ve become used to the sensation of a dark crystal, the pressure exerted on their bodies, their magic. Doc can even use it to guide them in the right direction, when the tension ebbs and when it grows, until they come across a tree. The behemoth of an oak tree twists it’s roots, dirt hollowed out by animals and time, creating a burrow just big enough for a crystal to be nestled inside. It’s a shame, Scar sighs, that something used for evil has been placed where skavader would normally raise their young. How it destroys the environment, leaving nothing but death behind. “Let’s destroy this magical menace.” 

Scar raises his hands, magic circles already cast. When he attempts to cast the spell, however, he finds his arms are immobile. No matter how hard his mind screams at his hands to move, they’re frozen in place. 

A snap of a twig sends Doc and the others skittering for a fight, while Scar whimpers pathetically at his unmoving appendages. Movement catches BDubs’s eyes, and he launches a whipping vine to capture whatever he saw. But the ivy is met by fire, coiling around, igniting leaves aflame. When BDubs refuses to let go, then the opponent on the other end of the whip takes control, and the plant wizard is thrown into the air, an screaming arc over the trees and on the other side of Idelens and her crew. 

The Council guildmaster lets go of the charred vine, wiping her hands free of the stained ash. Behind her, husks appear from the woodwork, their shifting grey bodies and gaunt faces like ragdolls, toyed around by dark magic. A bolt of dark lightning creases through the stormcloud hovering above them. A husk storm. Idelens may be in charge, but she’s not in control. 

The master of Midas’ Medallions straightens the severe bun on her crown, not a single hair out of place. “You and your friends have been such a thorn in the Council’s side. Not mine, but you have made everyone else quite unhappy. Especially Magistrate Dolios. He’s quite displeased that the others have been failing their duties.” 

“You say that like we give a damn.” Doc sneers, watching the husks circle around them. Men and beasts, wyverns and wizards, farmers and feathered serpents. 

“Oh, but you should care about anything I say, because what I say goes. And I say what better way to remind everyone why I’m the best guildmaster, why I determine the S-Class trials, is by removing a few thorns from the rosebush.” She snaps her fingers, and in the short burst of sound in the forest, several things happen at once. 

First, the husks attack. Lunging at the hermits, teeth and spells ablaze. All vying to rip the hermits limb from limb, or force them to join the ranks of husks, sapping their lifeforce and stealing their magic. Just like what happened in Danes. 

Second, Idelens’s magic takes hold. Sprites of magenta swirl and dance from her fingers, seeking out the hermits and embedding themselves like burrs to their skin. Cub’s knees quake, struggling to keep him standing. All his strength sapped like he’s ran a marathon, though his magic remains strong. Scar trips trying to run away from the bright bursts of energy, as if he needed the vertigo the magenta magic bestows upon him. 

Third, Doc casts his own magic, his consciousness leaping out of his body just before the debuffing magic can steal his strength, and into BDubs instead, trapped on the other side of the husk horde. He feels little concern with controlling his friends- he’s sure BDubs will understand. 

Through BDubs’s eyes, Doc can see all three instances, as well as his own body teetering lamely at the center. He’s woefully vulnerable, and every husk knows that his corporeal body is just begging to be attacked. So when a mage turns their magic on him, he turns BDubs on it. Slamming the plant wizard’s hands down on the ground, roots rise from the earth like massive snakes of wood, twisting around Doc’s body and encasing it in a capsule. Doc forces BDubs to his feet, verdant eyes trained on the guildmaster as she watches. Watches Scar and Cub struggle to fight with their strength and coordination gone, and not watching her back. 

Doc forgets how weak regular humans can be. He’s used to his tough green skin, and his mechanical prosthetics. He shoves Idelens off her feet with a body check, bruising pain shooting up BDubs’s body. The pain threatens to push Doc free from his host, but Doc keeps a firm grip on the controls. Idelens stumbles forward, and before she can regain her composure, Doc brings a tree down on top of her. 

It should have killed her. He meant for it to kill her, but she still had tricks up her sleeve. Magic swirls across her skin, showing that she buffed herself before being brought to the dirt by the tree. Pinned beneath the trunk, Idelens whines to anyone who will listen. At this point, Doc thinks she just likes hearing herself talk. 

“Do you know how annoying the other guildmasters have gotten? How many problems you have caused us?” She spits, trying to push the tree off. Doc, still controlling BDubs, glances up, but sees that her magic has left Cub and Scar. She needed to focus on not getting crushed. “Sidero is such a whiny brat, taking all his anger out on me just cause no one cares about his stupid inferiority complex! His guild wasn’t anything special to begin with! The Gadai are losing partnerships and trade deals left and right, which is making Okui all pissy because she can’t have all her nice things anymore! Gluttonous whore. And don’t get me started on Eros!” 

“Like I said before, I really don’t care.” Doc starts to let go of BDubs, to return to his body and finish things off, but Idelens is far from finished. 

“You should, because it’s all your fault! You’re ruining the Council! Dolios blames us for not working hard enough to stop you, which is why I’m going to have to clean up all your fucking mess. Because apparently I’m the only one who can babysit these idiots and actually get things done!” With a burst of strength, Idelens kicks through the tree, sending BDubs flying once more and knocking Doc back into his own body. 

It takes the puppeteer a second to remember how to control his own body. A portal appears beneath his feet, freeing him from his own confinement. “Welcome back, brother.” Cub hums, splicing a husk in two with a simple open and close of another rift. “We’ve got the ashen abominations, you deal with her.” 

Doc turns, facing down the guildmaster. He remembers her face so vividly, so perfect and coy. When he ran the S-Class trials, she was worse than almost any challenge she threw his way. He’d like to give her a taste of her own medicine. 

He casts his circle, alarming Idelens. She buffs herself, preparing for him to attempt to take control of her body. But he was bluffing. And she fell for it. While she’s busy casting her spell, he uses his own brute force, punching her in the jaw and into a muddy puddle. The golden tassel of her dress drags through the mud, the dirt making it nigh impossible to tell that she’s a Council mage. To Doc, there is no difference. Bones still break the same. 

He pulls free his knife, marching forward. He doesn’t stop, even as Idelens frantically casts her magenta magic once more. Even when it slows him down, to the pace of a tortoise, he doesn’t stray from his intended target. 

Idelens scrabbles back, her perfection fracturing. Her perfect dress, stained with mud and ash, locks of brown hair wisping free from her bun. Even her voice no longer carries pride. Only pure, seething rage. “I will kill you, puppeteer. I will kill you for lowering me to the likes of those scum.” 

She’s gone before Doc’s knife even has a taste for her blood. He stumbles forward, freed from his slow pace. Scar, BDubs, and Cub return to work destroying the crystal, considering this battle a victory- they fended off Idelens and the husk storm she brought, and they destroyed the dark crystal killing the land. 

But to Doc, her words echo in his head. And he knows this wasn’t a victory. 

This was just a stalemate.

[deuterium51614]

So I don’t know when I’ll have time to write my Death Husbands AU because of uni, work, and game development, so here are the bullet points I’ve done so far:

15x19 - Inherit the Earth

Jack asks what made Cas happy, and Dean touches the handprint and starts breaking down again

Michael says that losing Adam physically hurt him, that it took everything to keep his body as a vessel

Lucifer still pretends he’s Cas on the phone

Lucifer brings Betty from the Empty and kills her, but she doesn’t become Death

“That’s weird. Should’ve worked.”

“What should’ve worked?”

“She’s the first reaper to die since Death, so she should’ve become Death. Seriously, what gives?”

Cas appears behind Sam and Dean with a scythe similar to Billie’s, but it has feathers coming off the heel of the blade

Since reapers are a type of angel, Cas was compatible with becoming the new Death

He was dragged into the Empty at the same time as Billie, and when they arrived, she delivered a fatal blow to him right before she died

The Shadow was still upset that it was loud, and that everyone was talking about Cas’s confession to Dean

The Shadow decided to go back on its deal, saying that bringing Billie to the Empty was enough to pay for bringing Jack back, and implanted the grace of reapers into Cas so he could return to Earth

“This may be a mistake on my part, but I feel if you’re Death, you’ll succeed in not dying and coming back here for a long time.”

“…Thank you?”

“Now, go back to your boyfriend.”

Cas reads God’s book in private

While he’s reading, Dean comes into the room and tries to kiss him, but Cas blocks him, saying that a reaper having romantic or sexual relations results in the death of their partner

Like how April killed Cas after they had sex

However, he’s happy that Dean feels the same way, and says Dean can fully reciprocate when his book ends

Cas doesn’t read the book aloud like Betty

Cas smites Lucifer and Michael as soon as he’s done reading? Or Michael still smites Lucifer?

Maybe he just reveals that Lucifer was actually sent by Chuck

“Ha, yup. You got me.”

Michael still gets jealous, fights Lucifer, and the two of them release energy for Jack

Michael still betrays Team Free Will, but not just for Chuck’s approval — he wants Adam back, and is willing to do anything for him

Chuck’s defeat doesn’t change

Chuck asks Cas to kill him because Sam and Dean won’t, since Death was supposed to reap God

“But you’re not God anymore. You’re just a man, and so you will have an average reaper when your time comes. Jack is God, and according to his book, I will not reap him for a very long time.”

Jack’s book being God’s book — since he became God, the big book became his, and Chuck now has a normal book

15x20 - Carry On

Set up for the episode is still the same

Sam isn’t as sad at the pie fest, but he’s still a little glum

“Just thinking about Cas and Jack. Wish they could be here, you know? They’re family.”

“Hey, Cas said that Jack had a special mission for him as the new Death. Jack didn’t have complete control over his powers yet when he brought everyone back, so he even brought back monsters. So Cas has to round up all the evil sons o’ bitches in the world so that one day, we don’t have to hunt anymore.”

Dean still gets impaled, but this time he makes Sam promise he’ll stop hunting and have a life with Eileen so it’s explicit that she’s his wife in the flash forward

Dean sees Cas reaping the vampires, and when he’s stepping towards him, realizes he’s going to reap him

“C-Cas?” “Hello, Dean.” “Gonna give me the ol’ Kiss of Death?” “Yes.”

Cas asks Dean if he wants to continue hunting doing good in the world

Dean says yes, and Cas slips the ring onto his finger and they kiss

Sam can’t see Cas, and only sees Dean disappear when the ring is on

“Dean?”

Sam lives his life with Eileen, the montage is the same, but he’s signing with Dean II

Dean and Cas travel the world, reaping monsters before they can harm anyone

In the case of Garth and his family, and other monsters that don’t hurt humans, they reap them when their lifespans are up

Jack restores the souls of characters like Crowley, Ruby, Benny, Garth, etc. so they go to the new Heaven instead of the Empty or Purgatory

Dean and Cas visit the new Heaven, relax at the roadhouse to fulfill the Funko prophesy

Sam’s personal reaper was shown to be Death, so when his time is up, Cas and Dean are now his reapers and they come for him

“Heya, Sammy.”

[robbyrobinson]

OWL HOUSE X CTHULHU MYTHOS CROSSOVER: GODS AWAKEN (PT. 23)

In Belos’ laboratory, three guards were surrounding the portal machine whilst others were casually speaking with each other.

“So that human woman will be the first human executed under Lord Belos?” a guard asked. They were both wearing attire appropriate to any serving the Emperor’s Coven. His partner was slightly taller and had a gruffer voice.

“Bah, I’d think the Emperor would be less merciful in regards to that rat creature.”

Beyond them, more of Emperor Belos’ enchanted suits of armor were continually being created and stowed away in boxes. The process was the same as it ever was: rock harvested from the petrified statues were collected and pitched into vaults containing scorching liquid metal. They were then placed on the conveyor belts upon being cooled and fashioned. Rinse and repeat a thousand times, and this became a daily occurrence for the guards. It did not bother them where the rocks they were using to mold the armor came from. In fact, some were blissfully going about their business without fully knowing they were harvesting rocks from petrified statues.

The doors opened up revealing the Owl Spy to be behind it. “Afternoon.”

The other guards turned around to meet the masked man. When the door was fully opened, they dropped their weapons, freezing in place. There was a good reason for it: behind the door was that owl demon they had encountered back when Lilith used to lead them. That same owl demon that completely swept the floor of them.

“I-It can’t be...” one panicked; his ankles were locking up because of fright, “It’s the Devil!”

The guards braced themselves for the imminent pound down they were anticipating. After a couple seconds, there was no hint of provocation coming from the feathered fiend. They slowly uncovered their faces in confusion.

“Why is that...thing here?” one guard finally mustering up to speak.

“The Emperor had informed me that this owl demon would be of great use to our cause,” the Owl Spy replied.

“What, but how?”

“The Owl Lady had gone through a few...sessions, and I was finally able to extract an answer from her: this owl demon is a high-tech security system; with this fine system at our arsenal, he can be a worthy weapon against our enemies.”

The guards glared at each other then back to the owl house. While the monster had filled their dreams with night terrors for months ever since Lilith led them to try to capture the Owl Lady, they did acknowledge, if ever so slightly, that he was of considerable value. With a little fine-tuning, the owl demon could work for them.

“Besides; even if the house is still loyal to the Owl Lady?” the Owl Spy noted, “the Emperor had permitted us to serve the demon in a great banquet in a celebration of the human woman’s death.”

The gruffer voiced guard nodded. “I have heard that their type of meat is of exquisite taste.”

The guards mumbled for a few seconds and shrugged. Reclaiming their electric-tipped weapons, they slowly approached the house some taking the northern and southern parts of it. They looked in through the windows to see if anyone was inside, but they were obscured by purple curtains.

“What of the prisoners,” one of the guards asked the Owl Spy.

“They already have front row seats to the execution,” the Owl Spy replied in a deadpan fashion.

“You don’t mind if I send a few men to corroborate the story?”

“Sure, by all means; why not take it directly to Belos then? I am sure that he would love to hear that one of his minions would dare question his word especially if it was ordained by the Titan.”

The guard backed off raising his hands in the air. “Well played.”

As the owl house was being brought in, a shorter-framed guard tapped his weapon on the side of the house as if to see if the house truly was, hopefully in his case, dead. Like he expected, the house did not suddenly bolt to life. While his curiosity should have been satiated at that moment, he decided to lean in closer. He walked to the door and saw the owl demon’s wretched face. Its eyes were closed tightly apparently not hearing all the running wires in the laboratory let alone the probing that was being done to its outer casing.

He walked onto the porch of the house, his weapon drawn higher than before, until he was inches away from the owl’s face. He turned to look at his men seeing that they had slowly become frightened. Turning back to the owl house, he tapped the flat end of his staff on the bird’s beak. It rung out singing a hollow tune. He waited a few minutes to see if this was the final nail that could stir the demon from its deep slumber. He was about to turn away until he heard a small murmur. His neck nearly snapped with how sudden its turn was: nearly a 360 degree. His feet became glued to the ground and he was stiff as a wooden board. The owl’s beak started to move.

“Sleeping....sleeping....SLEEP HOOTING!!!”

In a flash, Hooty’s tube body surged with a renewed energy and shot out like a speeding bullet.

“HEY GUYS!” Hooty shrieked. He looked around the room seeing all the bizarre gadgets and buttons.

“Ooo, what do all these buttons do?”

In his excitement, Hooty shoved the guard out of his way with his long body and smashed his way through the machines ripping and tearing his way through them regardless of the sparks flying from them. Slipping his way through the board containing all the buttons, Hooty resurfaced like a breached whale with a huge chunk of wires and scrap metal between his beak. Even when the wires were popping with electricity, it didn’t seem to catch any concern from the owl demon.

The guard ran down from the door post flailing his arms. Hooty’s neck struck again effortlessly infiltrating one of the guard’s masks and, somehow, Hooty crawled into four guard’s masks before erupting out the final one. He had strung himself through them as skillfully as a string going through the eye of a needle. He swung them around somehow maneuvering their bodies and making them perform inhuman actions. They were all the marionettes being controlled by their puppet master.

“It’s great to have so many friends!” Hooty shouted, hooting incessantly.

The doors to the house shot open. Before the guards could have time to react, Luz, Amity, and King sprung out. King latched his tiny body around one of Belos’ minion’s face. The man began to panic and ran around in an endless circle. He reached out to forcibly pry the small demon off his face to no avail.

“Oh, dear Titan! Get it off me! Get it off me!!”

Luz withdrew paper and slammed them on the ground. Ice propelled from the ground encasing several guards in between the large columns of ice. So many ice columns in fact, they had to scrunch together. Any sudden movement, and they could be jabbed by the sharp blades of ice. Some pieces were dangerously close to stab them in the eye.

One guard was able to slip a hand and curved their fingers over their mouths. They whistled signaling more guards to enter the laboratory to take down the threat. Luz continued to dish out paper after paper containing the glyph for the ice spell and it froze several of them in place.

Lilith and Eda emerged from the house carrying frying pans to make up for their minimal power. The sounds of the pans colliding with the skulls of Belos’ minions rang out. With their ages, they were gradually beginning to show exhaustion, but they continued trying to press on.

“Whew, my back’s starting to chafe,” Eda groaned, “how are you holding on?”

“My frying pan is already starting to wear out.” She held it up taking note of the massive dents in it. It was barely holding on by its handle. Any other swing of it, and it would likely be ground up like a piece of raw meat. “But if it’s for Luz’s sake, then I can muster up a little more strength.”

The two sisters ran back into the house to find other items to throw. The guards start to flood into the house trying to capture the two women.

“Abomination, rise!”

Amity raised her hands and from the ground, her abomination erupted. She directed her mindless servant towards the horde of minions. They turned to see the lumbering Goliath approaching them and raised their weapons to intercept the encroaching beast. A colossal fist rained down on them, falling dozens of them. They launched javelins and other weapons at the beast, but they merely stuck through him and were vacated out of the other side. Hooty was continuing to happily clobber guards and had trapped one around his coils and pinned on the ground. A board game was in the middle. Hooty had already taken his first move.

“Your turn, hoot! Hoot!!”

The guard was hyperventilating and shaking like a leaf. It was apparent that he was sobbing. “Mommy, please! Help...”

Motionless guards were around the man. Eda saw this and winced. “Almost makes me feel bad for them.”

“Come to think of it, I thought your house system had its soul tossed into space-time,” Lilith remembered, “how did he come back?”

Hypnos sat on the couch drinking tea and casually watching Hooty play his game. “Oh, I saw his soul flying around the time that Amity and Luz first arrived to Earth; just thought to save it until the time was right.”

“Hoot! Hoot! I was in some world with a lot of mushrooms, and they made me their king!” Hooty proudly proclaimed.

Hypnos snickered in amusement. “I am in awe at how you were able to get your hands on a Great Old One.”

Eda raised an eyebrow. “Great Old One?”

“You seriously thought that all Hooty was good for was being a security system? This boy here is probably the most powerful being on the Boiling Isles; usually Great Old Ones would be locked away, and for good reason: Hooty can easily destroy the Boiling Isles if he wanted to.”

Lilith and Eda shared an equal look of bewilderment mixed with horror. “WHA!?”

Hypnos nodded his head and sipped his tea. “I agree; that is quite a cumbersome dilemma; wouldn’t want to be the poor sap who has to deal with that.”

The fact that Hooty was immensely powerful and held the fate of the Isles in his invisible hands was hard to swallow. Mistreating the owl demon was something that was done without much thought. But now, Hooty could possibly bring an apocalypse on the land if he so pleased. Luckily for them, Hooty was neither good nor evil, just a creature of pure chaos.

“When this is over, remind me not to mess with Hooty, Lilith,” Eda finally said.

Lilith nodded.

Amity and Luz saw the fight beginning to die down, and they bolted for the stairs leading to the top of the portal machine. Amity looked at Luz seeing her desperately carrying the papers in her hands. They fluttered in the rushing wind. Sweat beads were manifesting on Luz’s forehead with her breathing becoming strained with every time she exhaled, her breath came out in a sharp hiss.

“You did have our Plan B if something goes wrong, right?” Luz asked Amity.

Amity nodded. She rustled through her pockets and withdrew a small box. They got to the top of the stairs and paused to catch their breath. “Alright, you start putting the glyphs down, and I’ll keep watch.”

Luz nodded. As she turned, the breath was nearly kicked out of her lungs.

“Luz!” Amity held out her hand on instinct. Luz grabbed onto the rim of the stairs and was dangling over one of the vaults containing the boiling metal. The liquid metal sizzled and popped. Luz could hear the muffled screams of terror coming from the souls of the suffering witches.

Kikimora stood by the place where Luz fell and watched her dangling from the edge. Amity got on her knees to make attempts of grabbing Luz’s hand, but the little pint-sized demon was blocking her way.

“Go out of the way you foul creature, are you mad?”

Kikimora spoke with disinterest. “I will not allow you or your friend to intrude on Emperor Belos’ plans.”

Amity strained harder to grab a hold of Luz, but Kikimora swatted her hand away. Luz’s fingers were desperately trying to hold on for dear life, but tiredness was beginning to take hold. Invisible needles were pressing into her digits. The need to clinch her fingers became ever tempting, but she struggled against fate. Kikimora took her foot and stepped on Luz’s left hand. Luz grinded her teeth to keep herself from screaming.

Amity scowled her eyes flaring up. “Emperor Belos lied to you! Can’t you see that he is wanting to destroy the Boiling Isles?”

Kikimora looked at her with her one visible eye. “What are you saying?”

“It’s true!” Luz shouted, “Emperor Belos lied about everything; the Titan; the Day of Unity; he’ll destroy us all if we do not do anything about it!”

Kikimora slowly lifted her foot much to the human girl’s relief. Kikimora cupped her chin between her two fingers pondering. It seemed to be hours, but the two girls had their rest assured that the demon lady would reconsider.

“Even if that is the truth behind my master’s plans, he is my master nonetheless.”

Push.

Luz looked down and saw Kikimora fall past her. She instinctively darted her eyes away once Kikimora was obscured by a pillar of smoke coming from the sizzling concoction. Deciding the worse was over, Luz saw Kikimora’s white-golden robes on the surface of the metal before it sank underneath. At that moment, Luz completely lost her grip and fell towards the burning liquid.

“Luz!”

Luz closed her eyes to accept her fate, but she felt herself stop. Looking up, the Owl Spy had her and pulled her up. “You have no idea how long I wanted to do that.”

Luz was helped back on her feet, her breathing becoming heavier. Amity ran and embraced her. Luz’s cheeks became red. “You’re crushing me, Amity.”

“Oh...oh right, sorry,” Amity chuckled embarrassingly.

The Owl Spy saw more of Belos’ minions running up the stairs. “I believe now is time for that Plan B.”

Amity took the box running to the top of the stairs. The stairs were shaking from the combined weight. She angled the box just right and with a controlled breath, she tossed it. It landed on one of the furthest stairs and opened. The guards stopped in their tracks.

“What in Titan’s name?” one guard said.

“I’m gonna see what it is,” guard number two said.

“Might be one of those magic bombs.”

Despite the urgency in the first guard’s voice, the guard went to pick it up. However, the box was glued on the stair. He grunted every pull becoming more stressful on his back. Eventually, something oozed from underneath it. “Oh my...”

The box ripped open revealing some large, amoeba-like monster. It jiggled and shifted. Eyes were all over its gelatinous mass alongside mouths and pseudopodia. It wheezed and folded in of itself measuring around fifteen feet across. But most unappealing of the massive beast, it could form organs of varying size and shape without appearing to have the mental contingency to do so. Nevertheless, it slithered down the stairs as a writhing wall of eyes, mouths, and protrusions.

The guards fired shots into the beast, but they merely were absorbed by the pulsating walls. Protrusions reached out and wrapped around several of the guards’ legs to draw them into their gaping mouths. There were struggles coming from the guards, but the plunging pressure coming from the beast was too great.

The Owl Spy turned to his daughter. “Alright; so I will have to return to Emperor Belos to report on what’s going on; but first, I will give you the directions to find Edric.”

Amity agreed non-verbally. She and her father ran past the rampaging Shoggoth. Amity saw her Abomination while it was still in the process of clobbering the minions. It looked at the Shoggoth with a wide expression, its movement becoming stiff. If Abominations actually had hearts, Amity’s would assuredly be skipping a beat. Amity waved her hand, but that was not enough to stir his attention.

“So now you get to know how I feel nearly every day,” Amity thought to herself.