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claudiarya · 3 years

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Hello I’ve written this short fic. based on the clip we’ve got from Shadow and Bone of Jesper and Inej performing, but with a twist!

You can read it on Ao3 as well

Silks, Guns and All the Things Fun (Not)

Words count: 2898

The chattering at the Crow Club was thicker than usual and it ricocheted around the lower floor of the building, bouncing off the draped walls. Kaz Brekker made his way there from where he had been dealing cards on the upper part of the club. It had been quite a profitable night, with many pigeons all too eager to let the rush of the gambling go to their head and lose everything. His cane tapped on the stairs as he descended them, an ominous and irregular melody announcing who was coming down those steps. He stopped just before the las two and scanned the room, his shark eyes checking if everything was in order. Kaz saw at least a couple of people flinching when his eyes had met theirs. Good. It seemed that his infamy was the same unblemished, or rather very blemished, story of terror as ever. He had worked all of his angles to make it that way, and he had every intention to keep it up as long as he lived, his thirst for personal revenge too strong to be sated in any other way.

Kaz threw another glance around the room until he found who he was looking for. He approached her, men and women making themselves scarce as he passed them. Inej was in the corner, intent on untangling something thick, the crimson fabric like a river of blood in her hands. Her long hair was tied up in a coil at the nape of her neck as she usually wore it, a light vest covering her shoulders and arms, and peeking from a sleeve he saw something wrapped around her forearm. She had covered her feather tattoo since she was going to remove the vest and perform in bare arms, something that had stirred not little emotions inside the hollow of his armor.

“I trust that everything is ready,” Kaz rasped, looking down at her from where he was standing. Not surprised in the slightest, as if she had known all along who was about to speak to her, Inej kept her eyes on her task. “Good evening to you, too Kaz. How are you?” Her tone unbothered if a little bit sarcastic…

This girl. If it had been any other person speaking to him like that, they would have run away with a few broken limbs or without teeth. Or perhaps both. Kaz couldn’t understand why, but his relationship, if that could be called, with her had always felt different. Nobody treated him the way she did, he didn’t allow it, but whatever it was that propelled him to always find excuses to talk to her, be near to her when he could, he didn’t like it.

Liar. A voice in his head reprimanded him. him. You keep lying to yourself, Brekker. He blinked. Usually he would have ignored her, but that night he didn’t know what forced possessed him and he decided to indulge her.

“Yes, hello Inej darling. I’ll be better when all of this is over, and we’ve made our profit.”

When the term of endearment had left his lips, she had looked at him with a sonorous sigh. Inej raised to her feet, not really making a difference since she was so small, the red silks now draped on one shoulder, and her eyes peered straight into his. The amber, low lights of this particular floor of the club reflected into her irises, making it look like she had flames burning behind them.

Kaz thought again to himself that she had never looked more like a painted icon of those Saints she so much adored than in that moment and gripped his cane tighter to try and snap out of his reveries, to try and quiet the raging emotions inside. The ridges of the crow’s head unmistakable even under his gloved hands.

“Everything will go as planned: we’ll perform, and we’ll make sure all of these pigeons are probably plucked. Don’t worry.” She passed him, careful to avoid touching him and went to hang the silks she had been preparing.

Kaz promised not to let his gaze follow her but failed. He saw how with a graceful movement she looped one end of the prop into the hook on the wall. Once again, he forced himself not to let his thoughts wander too much and with a slightly louder voice called after her.

“If you’re so ready, where in Ghezen’s name, is Jesper?”

“He’ll be here,” she shrugged not preoccupied at all.

“He’d better be.” He checked his time piece and looking once again at her he said: “We start in five minutes. Go get yourself prepared.”

He heard Inej exhaling loudly. Again. A habit, he realized, she had acquired in these last months. Was it perhaps because she was starting to feel a little more comfortable with this life he had given her, with his gang… with him?

Inej got closer to him, not intimidated at all to look at him straight in the eye.

“I know what I’m doing, but if I’ll be ever looking for a coach, I’ll know who to turn to. Now, excuse me.”

She brushed past him, one instant she was there and then next gone.

***

Fitting how Kaz had found the darkest part of the room to stand in during Jesper’s and Inej’s little show. The sharpshooter had turned up at the last minute, literally the last, when the audience had already gathered around the little space they had arranged specifically for the two of them, and Kaz had already excogitated a hundred different way to kill him. He had of course given a piece of his mind, seething to the gangly boy, who in returned had just shrugged, winked at him and told him that “People love big entrances, I’m making us a favor,” before scurrying to his designated seat at the center of the makeshift stage.

Kaz had come up with this idea months prior, but Inej and Jesper had actually started performing only a couple of weeks ago. He had had to use all of his most convincing arguments to let Per Haskell see how incredibly fruitful this would all be. That old man and his drunken ass…

After many requests from his lieutenant part he had conceded, and Kaz had made it look so as if the leader of the Dregs had had this brilliant idea himself, a thing that had worked out for the best since he had gone strolling around the Barrel boasting how his club was offering entertainments that no other could. A good publicity indeed, and Dirtyhands had smirked pleased with himself, his plan had worked. As always.

His breath caught in his throat when he saw Inej climbing the silks, her fluid movements made it look so easy, as if she was taking a stroll instead of keeping herself up with only her body strength.

“Ladies ang gentlemen, thugs and thieves,” started Jesper walking the perimeter of the free space and catching the attention of the people there. “Tonight you’ll see something that only few would be brave to attempt. My lovely assistant will perform one of her tricks with a card stuck between her lips,” at that the girl in question removed from thin air a card and showed it to the audience, only one part of her body now supporting her, the silks wrapped around it, as the other half hanged from them. “While I will attempt to shoot at it.”

Many gasps could be heard around the room as well as excited whispers.

“Let’s begin!” Jesper said, now with a much more serious tone.

Kaz had to admit it, even if at times Jesper was a total buffoon he knew how to mesmerize an audience, and he had them in the palm of his hands.

The sharpshooter took his position, and removed from the ground a little polished, silver tray. Kaz had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes as Jesper looked at his reflection winked at himself and then kissed his beloved revolver, while exhaling with (fake) preoccupation. Could this boy be more theatrical than that? The Bastard of the Barrel sighed, convinced that there was no end to his second in command’s love for the dramatics. Inej wrapped her limbs expertly in the silks and then with a fearless dive, she let herself fall so that her body was hanging upside-down.

The split second before Jesper could shoot, Kaz’s and Inej’s eye met, and the world seemed to stop for a bit.

He knew damn well that the Zemeni boy was the best shot around, he had never seen him miss. Never. On top of that, he suspected that the little secret he was keeping from everyone, but that Kaz had of course found out about, somehow helped him with his formidable aim. Yet… why in the name of his beloved kruge did he feel nervous for her?

You need to get it together and stop thinking this sentimental stuff. He scolded himself, not for the first time that night.

After a second or perhaps an eternity he moved his gaze away from hers.

Jesper shot and… the bullet struck the card exactly in the middle. The raucous cheering of the audience was what ground him completely again. Inevitably, as if a magnet drawn to the pole, he saw Inej finish her performance with a couple of flips, before landing as effortlessly and elegantly as ever, a big grin on her face. Kaz himself couldn’t help the light movement upward of the corner of his mouth, that died immediately when he noticed how the sharpshooter, now standing, turned around to return the smile, and finally joined her, taking her hand to bow.

That nagging feeling inside him was as demanding as ever. He hated it. He wanted it to stop.

The applause of the people surrounding him turned into a distant sound, as a clear thought struck him then and there. He was never going to have that easy demeanor Jesper had with her, he was never going to be able to take her hand without drowning, he could never tell her that despite all his effort he couldn’t resist the constant pull he felt whenever she was close and that made everything even worse.

Inej’s eyes managed to find his again in his dark corner, the smile she still had lightened her features, but it dropped as soon as she saw what was a very grim expression marking his face.

He wanted to yell. Tell her to keep on smiling, because he felt very much alive whenever she did, like none other things could, but instead he just gripped his cane tighter, and forced himself to look around the room.

When Jesper and Inej approached him after the audience had dispersed a bit, he was still waging his inner war.

“Wasn’t our Wraith amazing?” Jesper asked excitedly, an arm slung around the shorter girl’s shoulders, before adding “Wasn’t I amazing?”

“You just did what you had to. No more no less. And besides, many of these people had already seen this particular performance, so I wouldn’t let all those adoring people get to your head.” He rasped before leaving them standing.

As he made his way to return to the upper level of the Club, he heard the sharpshooter sighing loudly. “You can never win with him, can you?”

“No one can,” was Inej’s curt answer.

He knew her eyes were following him; he could feel it and he never detested more the vindictive and cold creature he had become than now.

***

The Crow Club at that hour of the night, or rather early morning, was deserted. Kaz had ordered the others to go back to the Slat as he stayed behind to make sure everything was in order before close-up. He once again descended the stairs that would bring him to the lower floor, the silks and the other props gone and already been stashed away. As he scanned the room though, he noticed something on the ground, near where the silks were usually hanged. In the dim light he could see it was a piece of dark cloth, and as he got closer, he noticed that it wasn’t just any piece of cloth, but the one Inej had wrapped around her forearm to cover her tattoo. He crouched down, with no little protest from his bad leg, and took it in one gloved hand, the gesture almost reverent.

If someone were to enter the room now, they would have found Kaz Brekker, Bastard of the Barrel, Dirtyhands himself, on his knees cradling a strip of cloth in his hands. He shook his head in disbelief and made to stand up, when CRASH!

Something had fallen and in his fear of having been discovered, Kaz quickly tucked the wrap in his suit pocket as he made leverage on his cane to stand. He saw that what had startled him had been a stool, now on the ground. He passed a hand through his hair in exasperation. He really needed to get a grip.

In the days following Kaz didn’t realize that out of nowhere he would put his hand in his pocket and rub the little piece of fabric between his fingers, a thing that oddly enough always managed to calm him. He didn’t realize it, until he did. It had been a late night in which he had been working for the Dregs and his pathetic excuse of a leader, now scheming, now scribbling and adding numbers. The little thing had been placed on his shambled desk, a trusted companion of his. He had meant to return it, if not to Inej directly, to at least casually leave it where he had found it, but in the end he hadn’t. That night he had sent his Wraith out to gather information regarding a certain mercher’s rich art collection, and he hadn’t almost heard her, almost, entering his attic room from the window. Kaz hadn’t known how he had been able to stash her piece of fabric away before she could see him gently passing it between his fingers.

He only imagined the conversation they would have had if he had taken a second too long to hide it.

You know Inej, I casually found it on the ground but instead of leaving it there I’m keeping your arm wrapping as a stress-relieving token. But it’s not like it may look. I’m not obsessed with you or anything.

Could he be more pathetic than that? Since when had he gone this soft? Oh yes, he knew, ever since he had paid her indenture and she had joined the Dregs, that was when. To make things worse that night had ended with Inej casually sitting on his window seat: her head resting on the wall, her eyes closed. Indefinite and unnamed emotions had stirred once again inside of him, as a very precise, but not really polite word echoed in his head… he was so screwed.

From that moment on he had debated whether to just give it to her and telling her that he had found it but that it had just slipped his mind until then, or continuing keeping the damn thing. A constant battle in his mind that complemented the one inside his heart.

He kept it.

If Kaz was never going to have Inej, as he wished he could, he at least could have a part, no matter how small and insignificant, of her.

That day, his feet carried him on their own accord outside her door, a floor exactly below his room. They had encountered some troubles with some too cocky members of the Black Tips and the whole ordeal had left them all pretty shaken – except Kaz of course – and with two dead members of his crew. Kaz didn’t know why he was standing here, on the other side of her closed door. She might not even be here, he had thought trying to find excuses to turn back from where he had come.

But he knew. He somehow sensed that she was inside her little room.

What exactly was he thinking, what was he doing here as a gaping fish out her door? Did he want to make sure she was okay? See if she needed anything?

Oh yes, because you’ve been nothing but an example of emotional support, Brekker.

When he was about to turn and go back to the attic, cursing himself for his stupidity, the door in front of him opened. Inej stood there, and for once her hair was not tied back but loose on her shoulders, cascading in delicate waves around her frames, the result of having kept it tight in a braid.

“Is anything wrong, Kaz? Why are you standing outside my door as if you’d seen a Saint?” she had asked.

I think I wanted to see you, I’m not sure why and I’m going insane. He thought, but of course didn’t say, too cowardly and bitter to do so. Instead, Kaz quickly put his hand in his pocket, and found what he knew would be there. Gripping her piece of fabric, he managed to answer with his usual lack of emotions.

“Go find Jesper. I found us a job. What would you say to one million kruge?”

#six of crows #pre six of crows #pre soc #canon compliant #shadow and bone #grihsaverse #the grisha trilogy #the grisha series #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #my fic #my story #soc fic #six of crows fanfic #kanej #kanej fanfic

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thebiscuiteternal · 3 years

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BIG SPOILERS for the Reverse Nie timeline because this isn’t supposed to happen for like two more fics but I couldn’t stop myself from writing it now.

This is how Wei Wuxian dies and Nie Huaisang signs his death warrant.

In the end, after all the arguing and secrecy and frustration, it’s a very simple arrangement. Wei Wuxian and his Ghost General will give themselves up for execution in exchange for the lives of the other Wens they have been hiding in the Burial Mounds.

Jin Guangyao is acutely aware that it is unlikely this will remain that simple, on the fact that while he can trust Nie-zongzhu and Jiang-zongzhu to have negotiated honestly, he finds himself trusting his own father much less. Jin Guangshan has 'allowed' him to act as the mouthpiece for the discussions themselves, but he isn’t foolish enough not to track the orders that are being given -supposedly behind his back- to others as well.

His nerves are humming uncomfortably as he stands off to the side of his father's entourage and watches the small group of men reach the top of the stairs and approach. He doesn't pay attention to his father's rehearsed, grandiose words. He'd been the one to write them, after all, he didn't need to hear them again. Instead, Jin Guangyao watches their 'guests'.

Both of the Nie siblings look exhausted. Lan Wangji's expression is closed as always, but there are dark circles under his eyes. Jiang-zongzhu's face can only read as 'haunted'.

His gaze misses the Ghost General's face and graze over his hands instead, remembering the state his half-brother had been brought home in.

Poor Zixuan. He hadn’t actually meant for the man to foolishly go rushing off to try and save the day.

He hadn’t.

And as for Wei Wuxian himself...

There isn't much of the fearsome Yiling Laozu that lurks in the nightmares of so many to be found in the thin figure brought to stand before them. His spies had reported that the man wasn't doing well at all, but hearing that and seeing the half-starved figure and hollow expression for himself are on entirely different levels.

The Ghost General is clapped in even more chains as guards approach to drag him away from the crowds and-

Oh. So this is what all those ‘secret’ orders had been about.

He isn't surprised. He isn't surprised in the slightest. In fact, he should have expected this double cross to happen, really. He already knew that his father had an interest in Wei Wuxian's research, in the possibilities it held for consolidating their own power. He'd been sent to scout for cultivators who held the man in enough esteem that they might be capable of replicating those methods, even.

He's fairly sure the others, at least Nie-zongzhu and Wei Wuxian, probably predicted something like this would happen as well, if not in such a blatant and public manner. If anything, it only makes them angrier at the whole situation, Nie Mingjue and Jiang-zongzhu's voices rising in sharp protest against the change in plans.

His father looks back to him for the first time since the day began, a clear order to pacify what he sees as childish retorts.

Jin Guangyao bites back a sigh, plasters on a smile, and starts to step forward, but then Wei Wuxian moves. Chained hands raise as he turns his back on the gathered Jin and bows to his escorts.

"This humble one thanks Nie-zongzhu for his efforts and apologizes to his family for the troubles he has brought them," the man says, voice so very soft and tired.

Then with a speed he shouldn't have been capable of, Wei Wuxian reaches into his sleeve and produces the object that has become the source of all this contention, raises the Seal with both hands and a surge of resentful energy, and dashes it to the stone beneath their feet.

For a moment, even the air around them goes still.

And then all hell breaks loose.

People scream and run from the resentful energy that erupts from the broken seal in a boiling miasma. Forced to take cover due to his own weak core, he sees Nie Mingjue yank his brother behind him and draw Baxia to shield him from being overcome. Lan-zongzhu has emerged from his assigned position to protect as many of the coreless servants as possible. Jiang-zongzhu is yelling something that can't be heard over the roar of the escaping magic, Zidian and Bichen flashing as he and Lan Wangji try to fight through the malevolent fog towards his once-shixiong.

And Wei Wuxian...

Wei Wuxian turns to his once-shidi and smiles in the moment before he is enveloped completely, the expression possibly the most peaceful he has ever seen the man wear.

As quickly as they had come, the shadows are gone.

The courtyard is nearly empty, his father and most of the other spectators having fled, but he can't move, unable to stop watching as Jiang-zongzhu drops to his knees and howls, clutching a familiar black dizi to his chest. As Nie Mingjue runs to him and both Nie-zongzhu and Lan-zongzhu catch Lan Wangji before he can collapse as well.

Dazed, dizzy, and feeling oddly cold in his chest, something he dismisses as an effect of the resentful energy, he distantly thinks that it's a very good thing he had encouraged Jiang Yanli to go back to Lotus Pier with her son as soon as her husband’s funeral had ended.

He has a sense that things are only going to keep getting worse from here.

---

((Bonus Scene:

"And that-" Nie Huaisang says, "-is exactly your problem."

Wei Wuxian's face scrunches in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You owe a debt. Your family owes a debt. None of the other sects, great or small, owe these people anything."

"But-"

"As far as the cultivation world is concerned, Wen Qing was and is still an enemy."

"But she didn't do anything!"

"No? Who was Wen Ruohan's personal physician? Who healed the soldiers who came to her supervisory office?"

Wei Wuxian is slowly growing even more pale, his expression increasingly desperate. "But that... that was only to protect her family, she-"

Nie Huaisang sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Look, I understand. I do. There are very few lengths one wouldn't go to for family that they love. But that devotion goes multiple ways. You're looking at a lot of families directly injured by her decisions and a great sect that's whipping them into a frenzy. Not to mention the provocation and fear you added to the mix.”

Wei Wuxian opens his mouth at that, but Nie Huaisang cuts him off with a gesture. “I mean, really, announcing publicly that you can and will kill anyone you damn well please for opposing you? You really thought that wouldn’t come back to bite you in the ass?"

Wei Wuxian had the grace to look somewhat abashed at that.

"The Seal is potentially enough to save the rest of your sect-to-be-"

"'Potentially'?"

"This is Jin Guangshan we're talking about," Nie Huaisang said, not bothering to hide his distaste. "The man doesn't understand the word 'negotiation', only 'demand'."

"That's a polite way of putting it," Wei Wuxian mutters, then turns away with a sigh of discomfort and folds his arms.

Nie Huaisang lets him have the space to think, taking the moment to better examine their surroundings.

If they do manage to sort something out, like hell he's letting anyone keep living here. Even with his level of cultivation, the air feels greasy, itchy under his skin. He’s fully aware that there are at least three mid-range cultivators among the Remnants; they can’t possibly be any more comfortable than he is-

"Me."

He blinks, surprised out of his planning. "Beg pardon?"

The smile Wei Wuxian gives him is so worn out and resigned that it's painful to look at.

"I can offer me." ))

#mdzs #reverse nies #wei wuxian #jin guangyao #jiang cheng #nie huaisang #nie mingjue #lan wangji #wen ning #jin guangshan #fanfic

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sapphirestarxx · 4 years

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Customer Service

Find it on AO3

SUMMARY: Customer service is a thankless job, a fact Kagome knows well. Customers can be downright nasty; that’s just to be expected. What she isn’t expecting is for one of those customers to get physical or for a handsome and gruff stranger to swoop in and save her. How can she thank him? ONESHOT.

NSFW. SMUT. Lots of smut at the end.

This is a birthday fic for @lavendertwilight89!! Her birthday isn’t for another couple days but I thought I would post this early after the terrible day she had yesterday. I hope you love it dear!~

Also, thanks go out to @neutronstarchild for helping me brainstorm some ideas out and to @fawn-eyed-girl and @hnn-wnchstr for being kind enough to beta it.

Tag Wall: @lavendertwilight89 @hnn-wnchstr @cstormsinukagblog @fawn-eyed-girl @ruddcatha @liz8080 @itzatakahashi @kagometaishostory @neutronstarchild @bluejay785 @ravisk @dangerouspompadour @omgitscharlie @arcprz

***********

Kagome was not having a good day. It had gotten off to a terrible start and showed no signs of improving with the day’s passing.

Her alarm hadn’t gone off, and when her eyes finally opened, she’d only had five minutes to throw on her things before racing out the door, skipping breakfast. She hadn’t gotten very far because her car hadn’t wanted to start and she had fought with it before finally resorting to shocking the engine with her reiki in a last ditch effort. It had appeared to work (much to her surprise) but she had no idea when the effects would wear off or if it would even work again. Not that she had had time to worry about that, because the whole ordeal had made her roughly forty minutes late to work, where she proceeded to receive a lecture on punctuality from her boss, even though she had never been late before. And then, to make matters worse, she had used her entire break trying to call auto places to get her car in. Turns out every nearby place was booked out for the next two weeks because of course they were. So not only had she been unable to schedule an appointment for her car, she hadn’t eaten all day either.

Her car was a mess, her mood was a mess, and her life was a mess. And her store was also a mess.

Stifling a sigh of frustration, Kagome tucked the wayward strand of black hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear and straightened the apron she was wearing. Just another year… she just had to deal with this job for another year until she finished her Masters in Reiki Manipulation. In the meantime this job was vital for her income. Customer service had never been her first choice but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

She had been working at Shikon Styles for roughly four years, give or take a few months. After the first couple years as an associate, she’d been able to work her way up to manager. With that title came the guaranteed hours, benefits, and most importantly-- better pay. Still not even remotely close to what she felt like she deserved considering everything she had to put up with, but wasn’t that always the case?

She finished cleaning up the mess someone had left behind (because no one seemed to know how to pick up after themselves ), and scanned the store to see if any shoppers appeared to need help. Turning her head towards the entrance of the store she saw another customer enter and her heart stuttered in her chest for a few beats. The person who had just walked in was quite possibly the most attractive man that she, Kagome Higurashi, had ever seen in the entire twenty-five years of her life.

He was tall with a lean but muscular build, the features of his tanned face chiseled and sharp. The effect was softened slightly by a mane of gleaming silver hair that hung all the way to his no doubt perfect ass, but more intriguing to her were the dog ears atop his head; white and fluffy, and her fingers twitched with the need to touch them. And his eyes . Even all the way across the store, the piercing gold of them was unmistakable. When those gold eyes turned her way, she felt the blood rush to her cheeks in equal parts awareness and embarrassment. She couldn’t have been more obvious about checking him out. She also couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from his, completely caught in his spell.

His face had been set in a scowl, but at the sight of her blatant staring, the edge of his mouth kicked up, hinting at a smirk. She felt lightheaded for a second, her heart beating faster while butterflies stirred in her stomach. She flushed further, but this time for... other reasons. It was like everything around her had just fallen away and there was only her and him. She wanted to get closer, feeling an almost magnetic pull towards him. It was ridiculous and crazy but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

Her feet started moving his way as she licked her suddenly dry lips in preparation to give some semblance of a greeting, but the sound of one of her employees asking for help over the headset quickly curtailed that plan.

“Can I have a manager up front please?”

Kagome frowned at the distress in the girl’s voice. Her momentary annoyance was replaced with concern. Normally a bright and cheerful girl, Rin sounded close to tears. The radio picked up the slight sounds of someone raising their voice and once it clicked off, Kagome could actually hear the irate customer from where she stood near the back of the store. Several of the nearby customers were turning their attention towards the source as well. This did not bode well.

“I’ll be right there,” she responded.

With quick steps Kagome made her way to the registers, mentally preparing herself. With that much yelling, she wasn’t expecting a smooth resolution. As she drew near, she saw that the customer in question had his hands on the counter and was leaning close in a move meant to be intimidating. It was a boar youkai, and she held back a wince; they were not known for their sweet temperament. Rin’s eyes were wide and she had her hands raised in a placating gesture. When she caught sight of Kagome the relief on her face was palpable. Kagome pasted on her customer service smile and came to stand beside the young girl.

“What seems to be the problem?”

“The problem is this bitch won’t give me what I’m asking for! I’m a paying customer, dammit!”

The use of the word bitch had Kagome’s mind screeching to a halt as she stared at him in stunned silence. She'd had lots of customers get nasty before, but few had resorted to actual profanity. Finding her composure again, she attempted a polite expression, even though inside she was seething. How dare this youkai use obscenities, especially at such a sweet girl like Rin! She was one of her best employees and Kagome didn’t care for the way he was trying to bully her.

“There’s no need for such language, sir. I’m the manager here and would like to assist you if possible. What exactly is the issue?”

He scoffed at her rebuke, rolling his eyes, and her blood boiled. Asshole.

“You said you’re the manager?”

“That’s right.”

“Good. Maybe I can actually get some real help from someone competent, who knows how to take care of the customer.”

It was a struggle to keep her fake smile from slipping but she somehow managed. Ugh, she hated this man already. Rin was doing nothing to hide her own expression of displeasure and Kagome couldn’t blame the girl.

“I’m listening,” she said.

“I’m spending 31,000 yen today but this dumb girl can’t give me any discount. I even have a coupon!! And she tells me you don’t have your gift-with-purchase available anymore and she can’t give me anything in place of it, either! My girlfriend was looking forward to it. You guys never have any left when I come in! This is BULLSHIT!!! I demand SOMETHING!!!”

Ah, profanity again. With more yelling.

“As far as the GWP goes, unfortunately they are only available while supplies last, and if you look closely on the back of the GWP coupon, it says it was only good until the 10th of last month. They tend to only be valid for a week before they end,” Kagome explained with a patience she did not feel.

A month. The man came in a month after it started and expected them to still have any left? She wanted to tell him maybe waiting too long was the reason he was always unable to receive one, but she held her tongue. Instead she reached her hand out for the other coupon he held, already sure of what it was going to say.

“May I see the other coupon, sir?”

He practically threw it at her and she blinked. Okaaaay…this man was seriously getting on her nerves. Feeling like her face was about to crack from the force of faking a pleasant expression, she picked it up and looked at it. Just like that, her customer service persona shattered. Her face went slack in disbelief. She looked up at him and met his angry red eyes.

“Sir...this coupon expired four years ago. On May 2016.”

“So? I’m here now!” He insisted belligerently, his lip curling as a nasty look overtook his face. The tusks on either side of his mouth stood out in sharp relief at his anger.

One thing working in customer service had taught Kagome was the sheer entitlement of some people. It truly baffled her, the things people thought she should do for them. They all thought that an exception should be made for them for whatever reason. You’re not special and the rules do apply to you, she wanted to say to them all.

And honestly, there was a similar public offer currently available on the website, and if he had been nicer maybe she would have mentioned it and taken care of him. But no. He was being a complete asshole so she wasn’t inclined in the slightest to help him in any way. She just wanted him out of her damn store.

“Yes, but the coupon you have is very expired. I’m very sorry but there is nothing I can do for you.”

“That shouldn’t fucking matter! You’re just as useless as that bitch, you damn cunt!!”

Alright, that was it. She was pissed.

“Sir, you need to leave.”

“Excuse me?!”

“I said you need to leave this store now. We do not tolerate abusive language towards anyone.” There was an edge to her voice now, but she didn’t care anymore. Let him know she was angry.

“Fine but I’m takin’ all this shit!!” The youkai snatched his haul off the counter after slamming down a few bills and started to stalk towards the doors. A quick glance revealed it wasn’t nearly enough to pay for the items he had grabbed and she rushed after him, cutting him off at the end of the registers. And then her bad day became worse.

“Sir, you still nee--”

That was as far as she got before he pushed her roughly. She hadn’t been expecting to be physically assaulted and the move caught her off guard. Stumbling backwards, she fell hard on her side. There were gasps from her employees and the other onlookers. What the hell?!

“Out of my way! You want me to pay for them then give me my discount, bitch!!” He spat over her form.

Kagome was so angry she was literally shaking. Her breath was coming in pants and her reiki was beginning to swirl around her in a cloud in response to her strong emotions. If she thought she’d been pissed before, it was nothing compared to the rage that now coursed through her veins.

“How dare you!!!” Rin was yelling at him while rushing over to her side.

Don’t zap him, don’t zap him, don’t zap him. Kagome chanted it like a mantra in her head, trying to tamp down the urge to fry the asshole with her power. You need the money, so far the only one here at fault is him. Don’t touch him

“You just gonna lay there like the pathetic bitch you are?”

Fuck it.

Pushing herself to her feet, Kagome was prepared to rain down fury on this customer, consequences be damned. Rin helped her up, then gasped, tightening her grip on Kagome’s arm. Kagome looked up to see what had elicited the sound of surprise from her employee. If this asshole had done anything else… Her eyes grew wide, the death glare slipping from her face as shock replaced it.

The hot guy from earlier was there and holding the nasty customer by the throat. It was a testament to his strength how he was able to lift the youkai off the floor with his grip alone.

“Wh-what do you think you’re doing?” The boar youkai wheezed around the man’s grip on his neck. The merchandise he had been about to make off with lay at his feet in a pile.

"You need to leave. Now. She's been nothin’ but nice while you've been a total dick. Get the fuck out," he replied in a dangerously low voice.

“I barely touched her.”

“You shouldn’t have touched her at all. Period.”

“Let go of me!”

“Are ya gonna leave?”

“Yes!”

The sound was pitiful but Kagome couldn’t find it in her to feel sorry for him. She was still shaking slightly from the sheer force of the anger that had gripped her moments earlier. Her temper was now fading, the sight of this man serving justice in her stead somehow calming her down. Perhaps it was petty, but she took great satisfaction at his discomfort. It was what he deserved, in her opinion. Judging by how no one was protesting his treatment, everyone else in the store seemed to feel the same.

She took a closer look at her savior while his attention was fixed upon the boar youkai. His dog ears twitched in irritation, the scowl back on his handsome face. He was even more attractive up close, the muscles of his biceps and triceps standing out in the red t-shirt he wore as he flexed his grip once more before releasing the customer.

The boar youkai coughed a bit before glowering at her rescuer.

“You’re brave for a half-breed, putting your filthy hands on a full-blooded youkai.”

Half-breed? Kagome frowned at the slur, wondering if it was impossible for a kind word to pass the other man’s lips. That must mean this man was a hanyou, and probably an inu youkai if she had to guess, based on the fluffy ears that were still calling her name. She longed to touch them but that would be all kinds of inappropriate.

The inu youkai scoffed at his words, seemingly unbothered by them.

“Whatever. I could still kick your ass. Wanna find out?”

The boar youkai sputtered in indignation for a few moments before collecting himself, trying and failing to intimidate the hanyou as he puffed his chest out.

“That’s it! I’m going to leave a complaint!”

The hanyou rolled his eyes.

“I don’t give a shit. I don't work here so good fuckin’ luck with that. Now get the fuck outta here."

Walking back to the counter to grab the money he had left by the register, the man then beat a hasty retreat. He deliberately walked over the items he had left piled on the floor and Kagome rolled her eyes at the childish move, just grateful he was finally leaving. Never in all the days and years she worked there had she ever had someone lay hands on her. She would have to call her boss, who had already left for the day, and probably file an incident report about it later. What a pain in the ass.

“You okay?”

Kagome blinked, turning her eyes from the doors, where the man had just exited, back to the hanyou standing in front of her. His eyes were the most beautiful shade of molten amber and her heart rate kicked up again when she found herself swallowed up in his gaze. She cleared her throat in an attempt to find her voice.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Good.”

He turned and began to walk away and for some inexplicable reason Kagome felt her stomach drop at his absence. It was strange. As if fate had presented her with an opportunity that she was letting go to waste. She had no idea why she felt this incredible pull towards him, but the feeling didn’t appear to be mutual. And why would it be? She had literally just met this man. She didn’t even know his name. Why would he stay and chat?? You’re being ridiculous. The thought did nothing to dispel the notion that she had let this chance slip through her fingers.

“Get his number!” Rin whispered in her ear before returning to the registers to ring out the next customer. The show was over and people were ready to resume making their purchases. Rin was happy to gossip about it with all of them and Kagome didn’t have it in her to reprimand her about it. Instead, she chased the unknown man down.

“Wait!”

He stopped, turning to look at her. A dark brow was raised in curiosity. She faltered a bit, her sudden confidence from Rin’s encouragement fading a little. It was hard to read the look that passed over his face but what appeared to be his trademark scowl was taking hold again.

“What?”

His tone was laced with annoyance. Not exactly a promising response. Kagome tried to stay positive by reminding herself that the actual target of his ire had already left the store, so she didn't hold it against him. Much. He was just another customer, one who had stepped in to help her when he'd had no reason to. There had been nothing in it for him. She wasn’t sure why he had, but it didn’t really matter.

“Um, I wanted to thank you. You didn’t have to step in but you did.”

“Keh. It was nothin’.”

“It wasn’t nothing. You probably saved me in more ways than one.”

“Listen, a thank you is fine. Don’t get all mushy on me. It was no big deal.”

“I would have probably lost my job if you hadn’t intervened. I was about to fry him with my reiki, I was so angry. So thank you. Really,” Kagome insisted.

She wasn't sure why he seemed so determined to brush aside her thanks, but her confession of potential violence seemed to catch his attention. He looked at her with new interest, giving a short laugh and exposing the tip of a fang. Amusement sparked in his eyes.

“Now I’m sorry I did.”

“I’m not because I would have probably been fired.”

"Eh, don’t mention it.”

He looked a little embarrassed now. It was faint but there was definitely a light flush across his cheekbones. Kagome had to bite back a grin at the sight. Maybe he just wasn’t used to kind words from a stranger? She didn’t have a chance to ponder that too much, though. She wasn’t sure what possessed her, but she found herself speaking before her mind caught up with her mouth. It had to be Rin’s influence.

“I want to repay you somehow! Like...with more than words. What can I do?”

The scowl disappeared and in its place was that hint of a smirk she had glimpsed earlier at his entrance into the store. Her knees went a little weak while her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t fair for someone to be so incredibly attractive.

“Do ya always ask out your customers?”

“I-I’m not asking you out! I’m just trying to thank you…” Kagome stammered, her cheeks flushing pink. Ugh, she was failing miserably at this. “Like maybe a drink?”

Something shifted in his eyes that she couldn’t quite put her finger on while she waited for his answer. This wasn’t like her at all. She didn’t chase after guys. But she really did want to thank him and if that meant she got to spend more time with him in the process and learn his name then so much the better. It wasn’t like this was going to be a date; it was just a show of appreciation for him saving her ass.

“Your boyfriend won’t mind?” he asked, his scowl deepening.

“I-I don’t have a boyfriend,” Kagome answered, blushing harder.

He considered her words, his expression lightening at that.

“Fine. You can buy me a drink if that means you’ll shut up about thanking me.”

Okay, not the most encouraging response but she would take it. At least he wasn’t scowling at her anymore.

“What’s your name? And your phone number?”

“Inuyasha Taisho. Gimme some paper…” He peered at her name tag and grinned. “Ka-go-me.”

She had no idea why he had said her name in such a drawn out way but she decided right then that she loved it, and she wanted to hear him say it again. And again. God, what was wrong with her? She had met plenty of attractive men before, and her exes had all been pretty good-looking. But none had ever affected her so strongly before.

Retrieving a sticky note from her apron along with a pen, she scrawled her name and number onto it, then held it out to him.

“Here.”

He took it from her, his fingers brushing over hers. A tingle of electricity ran through her at the contact and sent her heart racing. His golden eyes sharpened and it occurred to her then that with his inu youkai senses he could probably pick up on little things like that. She was so obvious.

“Um...I should probably get back to work. Unless you need help with something?”

“Nah, I’m good. I have everything I need.”

He held up the piece of paper with her name and number, the tilt of his lips turning into a devastating smirk, then walked away to continue shopping. She wondered for a minute if there was a double meaning behind his words or if she was reading too much into it. Shrugging it off, she resumed her managerial duties, continuing to make sure everyone on the sales floor was taken care of. After several minutes she realized she had forgotten to get his number, too, and glanced around. She caught sight of him just as he was leaving and sighed. Chasing him down once was enough; she wasn’t about to do it twice. Oh well. If she didn’t hear back from him then that was that.

A few minutes later as she was finishing up with another customer she heard her phone chime and glanced at it. It was a text from an unknown number.

[Hey it’s Inuyasha. Text me the days you’re free.]

He had texted her! A flood of giddy excitement rushed through her.

“So did you get his number?”

That was Rin’s coy voice over the headset. Kagome couldn't contain her smile, feeling a sense of triumph. At least something had gone right today.

“I did.”

She could hear Rin cheering loudly all the way from the front of the store.

*****

“It’s not a date.” Kagome told her roommate and best friend for the fifth time.

“It sounds like a date,” Sango insisted, sitting on the foot of her bed as Kagome finished up her makeup, sipping her soda. “Look at you. Putting on makeup, dressing up. Going for a drink. With a man you find attractive. We call that a date, Kagome.”

Finishing the swipe of cherry-red across her lips, Kagome capped the tube of lipstick and turned to face her friend. Ok, so maybe Sango had a point. She had definitely dressed a bit more flirty than casual attire called for, wearing a pleated knee-length skirt in green that flared at the hem and a white off-the-shoulder blouse to go with it. Her long hair was hanging free in natural waves, the silky black a stark contrast to her porcelain skin.

“It’s just a thank you. He basically saved my job,” Kagome mumbled, but even she wasn’t convinced anymore.

Sango rolled her eyes.

“Well have fun at your not-date. Maybe it will lead to an actual date.”

"Yeah, yeah. Alright, out of my room. I'm leaving."

Sango laughed and threw her a wink before rising to her feet.

“I want to hear all about it when you get back home.”

“Sure, sure.”

Kagome grabbed her purse and car keys, slipping out of their apartment. Sango managed to get in one last remark just before the door shut.

“Let me know if he has any cute friends!”

“Good bye! ”

It had been three days since her encounter with the hanyou at her store, and aside from the rather short texts asking about her availability and figuring out the where and when to meet, there had been no real conversation between them. She had been hesitant to come across as too eager and he hadn’t exactly been forthcoming either. It’s not like it’s an actual date, so it doesn’t matter.

Maybe if she told herself that enough times she would start to believe it.

She hoped that maybe texting just wasn’t his thing. A lot of guys were like that, after all. Also, he hadn’t exactly struck her as the talkative type, but more so a man of action and gruff words. It was also entirely possible he had just been busy. She had no idea what he did for a living, or anything else about his life, for that matter.

Whispering a quick prayer, Kagome turned the key in the ignition. When her car started, she released a relieved breath, beginning to drive to the bar they had agreed upon. Her car hadn’t given her any problems since that day, but Kagome knew it was only a matter of time. Most of the drive it behaved...until it didn’t. And then, as if her thoughts had summoned everything terrible in the universe, her car shuddered and started making a sound she was pretty sure cars weren’t supposed to make.

It sounded like a cat was dying beneath the hood.

“No, no, nooo! Come onnnnn.”

The car remained unmoved by her desperate pleading. A glance at the dash revealed every warning light lit up like a Christmas tree and flashing at her. The engine stalled and her car began to slow, despite her frantic pressing of the gas pedal. Admitting defeat, she turned on her blinker and managed to pull over onto the side of the street right before it idled then completely died.

She turned the key again and nothing happened.

Giving the steering wheel a smack of anger, Kagome then lowered her head to rest upon it for a moment, releasing a scream of all her pent up frustration. She banged on the dashboard some more. Her eyes grew wet with the promise of tears and her throat hurt from the effort of holding them back. Why did everything always seem to go wrong for her? This sucked. She had almost made it there. Well, halfway. Digging her phone out of her purse she typed out a text to Inuyasha.

[I’m so sorry but my car broke down. I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it.]

Wrapping her arms around the steering wheel, she lowered her head back down and just sat like that for a bit, sniffling. She was allowed to wallow in self pity for a few minutes. Surely she deserved that much. Her phone chimed in her lap and she groaned, unlocking it and looking down at the new message.

[Yeah I can see that. Look up.]

What?

Kagome raised her head and yelped in surprise. Standing in front of her car, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, was Inuyasha. His hands were in his pockets and he looked like he was fighting to keep his expression neutral. With a growing sense of horror she wondered if he had witnessed her mental breakdown. The answer was most likely yes. She groaned again. Way to make a favorable impression, Kagome. Meanwhile he was just as hot as she remembered. As she stared at him confusion mingled with surprise. How…?

He walked around to the driver’s side and rapped on her window with a knuckle. Sighing, Kagome undid her seatbelt and opened the car door. He moved back as she stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut harder than perhaps necessary. He raised an eyebrow at the excessive force and her bleak expression.

“Having another bad day?”

“It was going fine until my stupid car decided to break down!” Kagome answered darkly, giving one of the wheels a solid kick.

“Kickin’ it ain’t gonna help.”

“Well it’s helping me because it makes me feel better!”

“What’s wrong with it?” Inuyasha asked, grinning at her antics.

“I don’t know! Everything!” She wailed.

“I can take a look at it, if ya want.”

Kagome threw him a sidelong glance.

“How did you find me out here, anyways? Are you some kind of stalker?”

She wasn’t sure how she felt about that, to be honest. Inuyasha scoffed, looking offended at the idea.

“Please. I got better things to do than follow ya around.”

“So you’re telling me you just happened to be here?”

“Listen, I live nearby. I was walkin’ to the bar when I heard that god awful screechin’ your car was makin’. Looked over and saw it was you.”

Yeah, he had definitely seen her mental breakdown. Perfect.

“You want me to take a look at it? I’m a mechanic,” he offered.

“What?”

“I can probably fix it for ya.”

“No! Absolutely not. Then I’ll owe you even more.”

He paused a moment, seeming to hesitate before speaking again.

“Just call this a date and we’ll call it even, then.”

A date? All the blood rushed to Kagome’s face as her cheeks reddened. He had managed to make it sound so casual, despite his slight hesitation. Had he thought she would say no? The thought was oddly endearing but did nothing to dispel her nerves. She stammered a little bit before finally managing a response.

“O-okay,” she squeaked.

He graced her with one of his fanged smirks and her heart pounded wildly, trying to escape her ribcage. A thrill of excitement zipped through her and she silently conceded that Sango had been right. He’s actually interested in me, too!

Although she had hoped for it, she hadn’t really been expecting it. His demeanor around her had been less than enthused, after all. But then again, he had come to her rather valiant rescue days earlier. And he had seemed pleased when she had given him her phone number. Maybe the trick was learning to read between the lines with him.

Inuyasha pulled his phone out and made a quick call. Kagome tried not to be too obvious but it was impossible not to listen in.

“Hey. I need ya to come out here. Her car broke down.”

Inuyasha’s expression darkened before he rolled his eyes in response to whatever the person on the other end of the line said.

“Look, just get the fuck over here with the tow truck, would ya?...I don’t fuckin’ know, Miroku. Ask her yourself.” He made a disgusted sound. “Damn straight, you better.”

He rattled off the street they were at and then hung up the phone.

"It's a shame we won't actually make it to the bar because I could really use a drink right now," Kagome said morosely as they stood there.

Inuyasha barked out a laugh and Kagome found herself taken in at the sound.

"Yeah, it's too bad. Maybe another time."

"Mmm. So who was that on the phone? You sounded close."

"My friend. We work together," he said by way of explanation.

"Surprised you have friends with that surly expression you always wear," she teased.

"You tryin' to pick a fight?"

"No, just stating a fact. Your glare could make small children cry."

"Oh yeah? Well at least I didn’t stare at a mirror so hard that it broke, Miss Misfortune."

“Are you calling me UGLY?”

His ears twitched as he realized how it sounded and she did her best to keep a straight face.

“No, not at all. Just tryin’ to figure out how many black cats you pissed off.”

Kagome gave a mock gasp, feigning offense, and Inuyasha grinned.

“I hope you step on a Lego,” she said, unable to contain her own grin.

“Really? That’s all you got?” He chuckled. “I think your luck has been cursed enough for us both, girlie. Don’t tempt the Lego Gods.”

“Rude!”

They were still trading barbs when a tow truck pulled up to their side of the street in front of where they were standing. They were so engrossed in each other that it wasn't until the man in the truck rolled the window down and spoke that they realized he was there

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said cheerfully.

Kagome turned her gaze to the newcomer and took in his appearance. He was handsome, with dark brows, high cheekbones, and full lips. His most striking feature, however, were his indigo eyes, brimming with amusement at the display before him. A light breeze floated through his open window and teased the strands of his black hair, currently pulled into a short ponytail. His arm came up to rest on the window sill almost lazily.

"About fuckin' time," Inuyasha greeted him rudely. The other man, presumably the Miroku from his phone call, just shrugged.

"I got here as soon as I could," Miroku replied, unperturbed by Inuyasha’s attitude.

"Um, hi. Thank you for coming out here on such short notice," Kagome said politely.

At her words his attention turned to her. He blatantly looked her up and down before settling his indigo gaze back upon her face, smiling pleasantly.

“My pleasure; I’m Miroku. You’re the girl?”

“Um...yes...?” The girl? Had Inuyasha been talking about her?

“I can’t believe you agreed to go on a date with this brute here.”

“Hey!” Inuyasha protested. “I don’t want to hear that from a pervert like you.”

"He seems feral but I promise he's house-trained," Miroku went on.

"He doesn’t seem too bad to me, aside from his permanent scowl." Kagome felt compelled to defend him but she couldn't keep the smile off her face at their banter.

“You’re far too lovely for my friend. Are you sure you have the right guy?”

“At least I don’t flirt with anything female,” Inuyasha shot back.

“Please, I only do that to see their faces light up. Meanwhile, you make every woman run away crying. Except for this one, apparently.”

“At least I have standards.”

“Hey! I have standards, too,” Miroku insisted.

“Then you need to raise them.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Miroku agreed amiably. “I’m turning over a new leaf tonight.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Inuyasha scoffed.

“So you're clearly off-limits, but do you have any pretty friends?” Miroku pushed on unabashedly, turning his attention back to Kagome.

She giggled and Inuyasha glared.

“It’s funny because my roommate said the same thing."

"Same thing?"

"To let her know if Inuyasha had any cute friends,” she explained.

Miroku looked delighted.

“What is this roommate’s number?”

“Don’t you have a job to do?” Inuyasha cut in, rolling his eyes.

“Of course. Can’t keep a lady waiting.” He winked at Kagome and it was her turn to roll her eyes.

Together, Inuyasha and Miroku got her car loaded up. And by ‘together’ it was mostly Miroku doing the work while Inuyasha stood on the sidewalk making disparaging comments about Miroku’s skills. He took it in stride and made some cleverly sharp comments of his own right back.

“Sorry about the tight squeeze,” Miroku apologized as they all piled into the truck. “This isn’t exactly made for three people.”

“No, it’s totally fine. I appreciate this. Both of you,” Kagome replied.

She was squished against the door with Inuyasha sitting to her right. He had refused to let her sit in the middle lest she be pressed up against ‘that damn flirt.’ She didn’t particularly care, to be honest, but his slight possessiveness warmed her. Or maybe that just was his body heat seeping into her, making her skin tingle in awareness.

The drive passed surprisingly quickly and they arrived at the garage as the sun was starting to dip below the horizon. The place was quiet and Kagome realized it must be after hours for them now, which made sense. She suddenly felt kind of bad about Miroku coming out after what had likely been the end of his shift.

“Sorry, you were probably about to head home when you came to help me out,” she said, her voice contrite.

He waved her apology off. “It was no big deal.”

“Is that why you bitched to me about it over the phone?” Inuyasha snarked.

“Now now, let’s not split hairs. Dealing with you is different than dealing with a pretty lady.”

Inuyasha snorted.

The two of them got her car set up and then Miroku turned to Inuyasha. “You want me to stay and help?”

“Nah, I can handle it,” Inuyasha replied. “Get out of here.”

“Then on that note, I’ll take my leave. It was nice to meet you, Kagome.” Miroku said, giving her a nod.

“It was nice to meet you, too.”

“So about your roommate’s number...” He let the sentence trail off, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Inuyasha rolled his eyes.

“I’ll ask her about it. Goodbye!” Kagome said emphatically, but she was giggling.

After Miroku had taken off, her attention returned to the hanyou examining her dumpster fire of a car. He had removed his t-shirt, leaving him in a white wife-beater and a pair of jeans. His back was to her and he was putting his hair up in a bun to keep it out of the way. She watched his motions, observing the way the muscles of his back moved beneath the fabric, the corded strength in his arms as they bunched and flexed. A rush of warmth pulsed through her as he popped the hood of her car.

“Fuck, woman. When’s the last time you got an oil change?”

“Huh?” She looked up, snapped out of her reverie; she must have zoned out for a minute. “Um...I’m not sure, to be honest. Maybe a year or so ago?”

“You fuckin’ serious?”

“What?” She said defensively.

“You need to be gettin’ it changed every 5k miles. Everybody fuckin’ knows that. And that sticker on your windshield? It tells me ya should’ve gotten it done 3k miles ago.”

“I’ve been a little busy to think about things like that!”

He scoffed harshly but said nothing else as he...well she wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing, to be completely honest. She knew next to nothing about cars. The same was obviously not true for him, which was fortunate for her. He leaned over, getting a good look at her car’s inner workings and giving her a good look at his ass. It was perfect, just as she had suspected.

“You seem more relaxed around me than you were before. I thought you didn’t like me,” he commented as he continued his work.

Kagome’s eyes snapped from his ass to the back of his head, feeling almost guilty about the way she had been checking him out.

“I thought you didn’t like me ,” she admitted.

He turned around and gave her an incredulous expression.

“Why the fuck would you think that?”

She just looked at him and he sighed.

“Right. I s’pose that’s fair.”

“You seemed so...annoyed when we first met, and I didn’t know if that was because of the customer or me,” she explained.

“Definitely wasn’t ya. Sorry you got that impression.”

“It’s okay.”

“When you insisted you weren’t askin’ me out, I thought...well...”

“What??”

“Because I’m a hanyou.”

“But that doesn’t matter to me. It was because I just didn’t want to seem...forward, I guess. I don’t know, this kind of stuff doesn’t really come easily to me.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

Kagome blushed furiously and he looked a little embarrassed at his honesty.

“Th-thank you,” she stammered, caught in the spell of his amber eyes. She resisted the urge to bite her lip out of nervousness. “I guess I just don’t tend to think of myself that way.” She gave a slight shrug.

“Well, ya should.”

With that pronouncement he turned back around and resumed his work on her car. His words had warmed her more than sunshine on a cold day. As she watched him work, something else began to warm her. She walked closer to get a better look at what he was doing and to keep her eyes from wandering to places they shouldn’t be.

“Why the fuck didn’t ya get this fixed sooner?” Inuyasha demanded suddenly, raising his eyes to meet hers. “This is a mess.”

She blinked.

“Well...I mean, it’s been giving me problems for a while, but every place is booked out for weeks now. I don’t have the time between work and school to drive far away to an auto place in a car on the verge of breaking down. With my luck it would die in the middle of the highway.”

“You have a point.” He laughed, and she suppressed a shiver at the sound. It washed over her in a wave, husky and rich.

"You know, your customer service is lacking," she teased. "Do you talk to all your customers like this?"

"Sometimes. Miroku usually has to smooth things over," he admitted.

"You could learn a few things from me."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Not cursing at your customer, for starters."

"But you're not really a customer, are ya?"

"I guess that's true." She smiled.

She didn’t know how much time passed as he worked. The conversation between them was light and fun and didn’t touch on anything too serious. He took parts out of her car, put parts in, occasionally asking her to hand him a specific tool then making fun of her when she didn’t know which one it was. At those moments she would jokingly threaten to zap him with her reiki if he wasn’t careful and he would just chuckle at her empty threats.

The longer he worked on her car the harder it was to keep her mind from straying to less-than-innocent places. There was a fine sheen of sweat coating his arms, making his muscles glisten faintly. Her eyes took in every dip, curve, and swell, her mouth going dry at the sight. The way he was handling himself with confidence and ease spoke of his skill and it was...attractive, to say the least.

“So. A miko?”

Kagome mentally shook herself, trying to fight her growing arousal.

“It seemed like the natural choice; it’s always come so easily to me. It’s like flexing a muscle, an extension of myself. It’s part of who I am. While I could have chosen something else...why would I?”

“Makes sense,” he grunted.

“Did you always want to be a mechanic?”

“Well, I’ve always been good with my hands,” he shrugged.

I’m sure you are, she thought, biting her lip, her eyes inevitably drawn to those hands now. They were large and covered in black grease, tipped in claws. She wondered idly what those claws would feel like tracing the lines of her body and felt heat curl low in her belly.

Inuyasha inhaled, his nose twitching, and jerked upright, nearly hitting his head on the hood of her car. She frowned for a moment, wondering what had caused him to jump. Then realization dawned and she turned tomato red. Oh God. Embarrassment filled her.

Inuyasha was an inu youkai hanyou. He could smell her. His gold eyes practically burned as they turned her way.

She swallowed, fidgeting with her hands, and her cinnamon eyes skittered away from his form, hoping that would help to quell the rising desire in her. A desire for him and his touch. The force of it surprised her; she barely knew him! Despite that, everything with him just came so...naturally. She felt like she had known him forever, and feelings that normally took days and weeks to form had taken mere hours. It was insane, but she couldn't deny it.

She liked him so much it was crazy.

Silence stretched between them as her mind cast about desperately for something to talk about. Something to divert attention away from the change in her scent and what exactly that meant.

"So, have you taken many dates to your garage?"

"Nah. You're the first lucky lady who's had the honor," Inuyasha replied with a fanged smirk, giving her a long look before turning his focus back to her car.

Kagome breathed a soft sigh of relief and let out a small laugh at his answer.

"They really missed out. This is so romantic," she joked, gesturing about with a hand for good measure.

"Yeah, sorry." He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. "This is probably a shitty date, but at least your car will work tomorrow."

"It's not, though," she told him sincerely. "I'm actually really enjoying myself. I have had way worse dates than this. This doesn't even rate on the scale."

And no date has ever had me so ready to be pressed up against the nearest surface with the need to have their hands all over me. Her mind was veering into dangerous territory again. She was completely ready to forget all propriety. Not good.

"You're kiddin'."

"Definitely not."

"Yeah? Then what's the worst date you ever been on?"

"Oh, let's see. There are a few contenders for that spot."

Kagome seized on the question. Talking made it easier to focus on something other than the way his lips would feel against hers. Or the way he might use his fangs to gently nip at the sensitive skin of her neck…

She needed to get a grip, and fast, or he was going to start smelling her again. She hastily tried to tamp down her libido with minimal success.

"There was the time I went on a date with a guy and he got so drunk he kept falling asleep at the bar,” she said, relieved when her voice came out steady and not breathless.

“Shitty, but not that bad.”

“Oh, it gets worse. So I paid for my tab while he was in the bathroom; I just wanted to get out of there. As I was getting in the cab, he came running out after me, trying to keep me from leaving.”

“Guy obviously couldn’t take a hint.”

Kagome gave a small laugh. “No. And well, just as I closed the door he projectile vomited all over the cab window.”

Inuyasha laughed so hard he had to stop what he was doing for a minute and Kagome grinned at his obvious amusement. It had been a gross and terrible experience at the time, but it definitely made for a hilarious story now.

“Ok, shit. That’s pretty fuckin’ bad.”

“It was horrifying. Then he texted me the next morning asking about a second date.”

Inuyasha laughed harder and Kagome began to laugh too.

“Needless to say, I said absolutely not.”

“Somethin’ tells me he didn’t take no for an answer,” Inuyasha grinned.

“I ended up blocking him,” Kagome confirmed. “So what about you? What’s your worst date story?”

Inuyasha straightened, surveying the innards of her car and seeming to come to some sort of conclusion. About what, she had no clue but he seemed satisfied, giving a short nod. Then he faced her, the corner of his mouth tilting up.

“I dunno about the worst, but probably the weirdest. I went out with this chick, and after we had dinner she said she just had to pick somethin’ up. We stopped at her twin brother’s place and there was the weirdest vibe goin’ on between them.”

“You don’t think…?” Kagome gasped.

“Fuck, I got no clue but they both basically ignored me and focused on each other ‘til I said I was leavin’.”

Kagome giggled. “Yeah, that’s pretty weird.”

Inuyasha lowered the hood of her car then grabbed a rag and wiped the grease off his hands before tossing it aside into a bin. When he looked her way again he stretched and his shirt rode up, exposing a tantalizing glimpse of his taut stomach. It whet her appetite for more and with a jolt she realized she was staring. She was also more than a little turned on. Even if she hid it well, there was no hiding her scent; Inuyasha would know exactly what kind of shameless thoughts were circling in her head. There would be no shrugging it off a second time.

She wasn’t that type of girl! But something about Inuyasha made her want to be.

“All done a-already?” She stuttered out, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor in front of her now. Her heart was beating faster, making it nearly impossible to keep her breathing even. She cleared her throat.

“Yup. All done. Was a fuckin’ mess but thankfully I know what I’m doin’,” Inuyasha answered.

His feet came into view as she continued to stare at the floor. They stopped right in front of her, but she didn’t need to see his feet to know that. Her awareness of his body so near to hers was a signal all on its own. His aura brushed up against hers and she swallowed nervously, her cheeks warming.

“Y-yeah, for once luck was on my side. Thank you so much,” she said, still looking at the floor.

“You thankin’ the floor?”

She hesitantly raised her eyes to his face and heat flooded through her at his expression. An answering heat burned in his golden orbs while a smirk teased at his lips. He knew. He knew and he was not going to let her off lightly. Not this time. That thought allowed some of her ardor to cool and she scowled. He was standing incredibly close so she pushed against him, her hands lingering on his stomach, noting the ridges of his abs beneath the thin fabric of the wife-beater he wore. He retreated a single step and no more.

“Thank you,” she said again, this time looking into his eyes as she spoke, and his smirk widened. She wanted to be annoyed but that look was giving her butterflies and making her knees weak. Or maybe it was the look in his eyes that made her feel almost hypnotized.

“You hungry?” he asked in a low voice.

“A little,” she replied, unable to look away. But I’m more hungry for you.

“There’s a takeout menu on the fridge in the living space through that door. Go ahead and order whatever ya want.”

Without breaking eye contact, he pulled his wallet out and removed a card, then reached down to grab one of her hands. Her breath caught as he placed it in her palm then curled her fingers over it, his claws lightly scraping over the skin of her wrist before pulling away. She couldn’t suppress the shiver it caused.

“O-order?”

“What? Ya need help orderin’ food?”

“No! Of course not.”

Kagome tried to muster up a glare but failed miserably. Inuyasha just looked terribly amused and smug. Ugh.

“While you order I’m gonna go take a shower.”

“You need help with that?”

Kagome tried to make it sound like a joke, to play off his previous words, but her voice came out breathless instead. The teasing smirk disappeared from his face and his eyes sharpened as he crowded her space, standing so close his body heat warmed her. Leaning down, he spoke, his breath brushing over her lips.

“If you’re offerin’.”

Kagome’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth to reply but no sound came out. All the desire she had been trying to keep at bay rushed back, overwhelming her senses for a moment. Her brain short-circuited as lust flooded her, making it impossible to fight.

“I-I wasn’t being serious,” she finally managed. “Your customer service needs work.”

He leaned closer, and she became acutely aware of how little space there was between their lips.

“That’s not what your scent is tellin’ me.”

He definitely knows. Oh God. Mortification and arousal vied for dominance, arousal winning out. And Kagome suddenly found she didn’t care that he knew anymore. For once, she didn’t want to be a good girl; she just wanted to give in. But still, she couldn’t make the first move.

“What is it telling you?” she whispered, hoping he would.

And he did.

Instead of answering her, he closed the last bit of distance between them and pressed his lips against hers. It started out soft at first and she sighed in bliss, leaning into his kiss while her hands ran up his stomach to rest upon his broad shoulders. His credit card dropped between them onto the floor, forgotten as they kissed. The taste of his mouth sent her head spinning. His hands reached up to cradle her face as their lips moved against each other and she shivered at the delicious heat spreading through her body.

It quickly turned from sweet and hesitant to something more demanding and deliberate. Kagome offered no resistance, opening her lips to him almost reflexively. His tongue dipped into her mouth while she traced the length of his fangs with her own and he growled in approval. At the same time, her hands moved to his head, reaching back and undoing the bun holding his silver hair in place. The silky mass tumbled down his back and she ran her fingers through it as their kisses grew more insistent. Her blood was singing in her veins for his touch and, as if he could read her mind, his hands began to roam her body. They slid from her face to her shoulders, down her back, skimming her waist and coming to a stop on her ass.

His hands cupped her, pulling her flush against him and allowing her to feel the evidence of his own arousal. A soft whimper caught in her throat and she clung to him tighter. He dragged his mouth away from hers, his eyes almost wild, as if surprised at the force of the connection between them. They were both panting as they stared into each other’s eyes.

“It’s telling me you wanted that. And more. Fuck, I want more,” Inuyasha said, his voice husky.

“So do I,” Kagome told him hotly.

“If I kiss ya again, I dunno if I can stop.”

Kagome smiled at him shyly, her cheeks heated with a blush.

“What if I said I didn’t want you to stop?”

She wasn’t the type to have sex on the first date, but whatever was building between them was undeniable. For once, she wanted to throw caution to the wind and indulge herself, and if the bulge she felt in his pants was anything to go by, he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. And this thing between them was more than physical; at least it was for her. She only hoped it was the same for him, too.

“Then I ain’t gonna stop.”

“I-I don’t ever do this, especially not on the first date, but I just feel something so-- so--...”

“I feel it, too.”

That was the only reassurance she needed. Her hands moved across the expanse of his muscled back while his lips captured hers again. She felt like she could get lost in the feel of his mouth over hers, the taste of his breath, the way his fangs nipped at her bottom lip. The need to touch him was strong and she tugged at the wife-beater he wore in silent demand. Breaking the kiss, he smirked at her and removed it in one fluid motion. She stared, transfixed, her eyes charting every ridge and dip of his abs and pecs.

He was beautiful .

Before she could lose her courage, she leaned forward and ran her mouth over his skin, pressing kisses over his bare torso while her hands mapped his body. His breathing quickened and he growled, the verberation from the sound tickling her lips as her tongue darted out to lick the sweat from his skin.

While she explored him, his hands went to work, running down her back in a caress before gripping her ass possessively. He squeezed, relishing the feel, then surprised her by using his grip to effortlessly pick her up. She squealed, instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist and pressing her core right against the hardness of his cock. Gasping at the sensation, a rush of hot arousal raced through her system and left her lightheaded. She barely registered him carrying her until he set her down on the hood of her car as he kissed her. Then his lips trailed from her mouth to her ear, down to her neck, where his fangs played at the sensitive skin there.

“You smell so fuckin’ good,” he said, his breath hot. He inhaled deeply, breathing her in.

Moaning softly, she shifted her hips against him, hoping to ease the ache that was beginning to build at the apex of her thighs. Heat jolted through her core at the intimate contact as he groaned.

"Clothes...off…" Kagome managed, her mind in a haze.

Inuyasha complied, removing her shirt and tossing it aside. Without wasting any time, he reached behind her to unclasp her bra, his claws lightly brushing against her porcelain skin as he slid the straps from her shoulders. Nervousness gripped her again as her bra fell away and left her bare to his gaze, but excitement quickly replaced it at the hunger in his eyes.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.”

She held her breath in anticipation for his touch while he stared, drinking her in. The look in his eyes made her feel like a goddess. He didn’t keep her waiting long, his large hands reaching for her and lifting her breasts, savoring their weight as a calloused thumb brushed over each nipple. They pebbled beneath his touch and a soft sigh passed her lips as he repeated the motion before massaging the globes. Then his mouth took the place of his hands and Kagome cried out as he sucked at her nipples, his fangs gently scraping over the sensitive buds.

As he lavished his attentions on her breasts, her hands buried themselves in his hair, holding his head in place. Unable to help herself, one hand freed itself to stroke along his soft ears and his grip tightened on her in response. She grinned wickedly; they were clearly sensitive. Lightly running her tongue along the edge of one of his furred ears, she gave it a small nip. He growled, the sound rumbling through his chest and sending pleasurable vibrations through her body, making her moan. Liquid heat pooled between her legs.

Slowly, he kissed his way from her breasts all the way down her belly until he reached the waistband of her skirt. He gave it a playful bite while the longing in her grew stronger.

"Inuyasha…" she breathed, his name a plea.

Sliding his hands beneath the green satiny fabric, he ran his palms up her smooth thighs and took hold of her panties. She lifted her hips in consent and he removed them, his claws trailing along her pelvis and the inside of her thighs. A small whimper lodged in Kagome’s throat as the tension inside her built.

Rather than toss them aside like he had her shirt, Inuyasha held them up to his face. The crotch was soaked with her arousal and she watched as he slowly and deliberately dragged his tongue across the wetness, closing his eyes as if savoring the taste. Then he gave her a wicked smirk, locking eyes with her.

It was the hottest and most erotic thing she had ever seen. Lust gripped her, hot and immediate. The pressure was almost unbearable now, she was so fucking turned on. She throbbed with the need to feel that tongue licking and teasing her dripping pussy.

"You taste amazing. But it'll taste even better right here," Inuyasha said, dropping her panties to the floor in favor of spreading her thighs.

"Do it. Taste me," she panted, her fingers curling into fists at her side to keep herself from grabbing his head and pressing him into her.

Then his mouth was on her and oh. Fuck. Her skirt bunched around her waist as his tongue lapped at the juices pouring from her opening, darting in and out and making her breath catch. After teasing her entrance, he gave her pussy a long, slow lick, flicking the tip of his tongue over her clit. Kagome gasped, her thighs tensing, as he spread her folds and licked at her faster, mercilessly tonguing her bundle of nerves. She cried out, her back arching.

“Ah! Ahh! Yes, oh fuck!”

Tracing fast and hard circles around her clit with his tongue, he positioned one of his hands at her opening and slid a finger inside her, being careful of his claws. Her response was instant, her hips bucking up against him to take his finger all the way inside her as she moaned loudly. Yes. God yes.

Inuyasha gave a growl of approval at her reaction and the vibrations went straight to her clit, enhancing the pleasure. It was pure bliss. His tongue worked her nub furiously as he fingered her, adding a second digit to the first and causing a cry to escape her again. His fingers moved in and out in a quick rhythm, stretching her and making a slurping sound as wetness continued to spill from her. As he continued to devour her hungrily.

Her head fell back as she lost herself to the sensations, feeling the coil of her release wind tighter. The cool metal of the hood of her car against her skin was a stark contrast to the heat of her body as she burned from his touch. She couldn’t believe she was doing this , here, on her car, but she was too far gone to care anymore. Fuck, she was so close .

And then he began to suck on her clit while his tongue and fingers continued to stroke her and Kagome lost all control of herself. Moaning incoherently, uncaring of how loud she was being, she writhed under his mouth. When he gently scraped one of his fangs over her sensitive nub she came apart, her hands grasping for something to anchor her while the ecstasy took her sky high.

“Ah! Ahhh! Inuyashaaa!”

“Delicious,” she heard him say, and thought he might have been licking his fingers of her essence. She wasn’t sure.

The world spun for a minute while she panted, trying to catch her breath. When her eyes refocused she looked up and saw Inuyasha had divested himself of the rest of his clothing and stood in front of her, gloriously naked. He looked like one of those statues of a Greek god, his body chiseled and well-defined with muscle. There was one notable difference between them and him, however, and it was the rather large appendage jutting out from between his legs.

Kagome stared for a second. He was definitely bigger than average, and she wondered for a moment if he would even fit inside her. Her eyes must have given her away because Inuyasha chuckled, pulling her close and kissing her senseless, and any doubt regarding that faded away.

He was going to the best she ever had: she just knew it.

As he kissed her, her hands caressed his ears again, rubbing the edges between her fingertips. Inuyasha’s own hands traced patterns up and down her back, one of them breaking away to grab a fistful of her hair. Languid warmth bloomed inside Kagome from the way he was making her feel and she wanted to return the favor.

“Your turn,” Kagome whispered against his lips.

Holding onto his shoulder to steady herself, her other hand trailed south across his skin. The muscles of his abdomen clenched under her feather-light touch before she reached her target and gripped his cock firmly. Squeezing, she ran her hand along the length of him, the pad of her thumb pressing against his tip and spreading the precum around in soft circles. He hissed out a breath, snarling softly.

“Fuck, your hand feels so good,” he groaned, burying his face in her neck.

Dragging her fingernail gently up the side of his cock as she pumped him, her hand tightened its grip, moving faster. He grunted out his pleasure, thrusting in time with the rhythm of her hand while his tongue rasped over her neck. Her head lolled to the side, allowing him better access as she stroked up and down, her hand giving a twist with each upward motion. His breathing became harsh, coming in pants, and Kagome gave a moan herself at the way his fangs scraped against the column of her throat.

She was already wet for him again.

“Smell amazing...fuck, gotta stop or I’m gonna....”

His voice was thick with desire and the sound sent tingles down her spine. Giving her neck one last nip, he raised his head and, reaching down between them, grabbed her hand in his, stopping her. She looked at him in confusion, uncertainty quelling her own desire, but the look in his gold eyes put any insecurities to bed. They were molten embers that burned for her and made her ache for him. A slow smile spread across his face and her body flushed.

“Why...why did you stop me?”

“I’m not gonna cum in your hand on the first date.”

But I came on yours . The words never made it past her lips as he spread her legs wider and rubbed his cock over her soaked pussy, pressing the head against her clit. She whimpered, falling back against the hood of her car as he repeated the motion before lining himself up at her entrance. She held her breath, waiting, and looked into his eyes. It might have been her imagination, but she thought she saw a hint of red at the edges and it thrilled her.

Then a thought occurred to her.

“W-wait! What about-- about protection?”

“Not to be weird, but I can smell ya, and you ain’t fertile right now.”

She blinked, absorbing this information, and felt equally aroused and appalled that he could apparently smell every facet of her being.

“You still want this?” His voice was a deep rasp.

“I still want it. I want you,” she answered.

The blunt head of his cock pressed against her and, at her consent, he slowly worked his way inside her until every inch was sheathed within her hot, dripping core. She moaned as sparks of pleasure danced over her skin and he gave an answering groan of his own. He was stretching her to the limit and the feeling was incredible. It made a delicious ache begin to swirl within her, radiating out from where he was buried so deep inside. And he hadn’t even moved yet.

“Ah, God,” he breathed, holding still for a moment as her body adjusted to the size of him. His hands were on either side of her head as his body loomed over her. “Fuck, you’re so tight. You’re not--?”

“--no. But it’s been a while,” Kagome breathed back. “Please, keep going. Don’t stop.”

Inuyasha growled and withdrew before thrusting back into her and she gasped, her breath hitching on another moan. And he didn’t stop, pumping into her hard, while her wet pussy gripped his cock tightly. She shifted her hips up against him with each thrust, trying to take him even deeper. The demanding ache inside of her was building and it needed more. She needed more. The shaft of his cock rubbed against her walls with each urgent movement, pressing against places she hadn’t even known were sensitive until they began to send jolts of ecstasy through her body while he fucked her.

Some distant part of her mind registered that Inuyasha was fucking her on her car. And she didn’t care. She loved it, wanted more, all her inhibitions slipping away. Each fierce thrust was making her breasts bounce wildly, something that didn’t escape his notice. Her back arched into his touch as he brought a hand up to possessively grasp one of her breasts, claws playing with her nipple as he squeezed the flesh.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he grunted as he pounded into her. “Uhn!! So fucking good!”

She didn’t even realize she was crying out at first, but she couldn’t seem to silence herself either, helpless against the way he was making her feel. Looking into Inuyasha’s face she decided she didn’t want to, anyways, because at each sound of pleasure that fell from her lips his eyes seemed to glow brighter, his breath catching, and his thrusts coming faster.

“Ahh! Ah! Inu-Inuyashaaa! I-- please-- Mmm! Yes!”

The coil of her release was wound so tight she was going to come apart any second. Inuyasha leaned down to scrape his fangs over her exposed neck, his tongue licking away the sting. When he moved his other hand from her thigh to her clit, rubbing in taut circles, the feeling sent her over the edge. She came hard, her legs trembling as she moaned loudly, her whole body shuddering.

“That’s it, Ka-go-me,” he panted at her, still thrusting into her wet, hot core and she whimpered.

Then he withdrew from her and she blinked, in a daze, wondering why he was stopping; he hadn’t reached his own release yet. She never got a chance to ask, his lips claiming hers in a kiss so tender that it belied the intensity of the way he had just been fucking her. Pulling away, his hungry eyes traced the length of her body before he gently picked her up, putting her feet on the ground, and flipped her over so her stomach was now against the hood of her car, her back to him.

Hands spread her thighs and in one swift motion he was buried inside her welcoming heat again. She whined as his cock stretched her, her fingers fisting. God, he made her feel so fucking good. Those strong hands of his held her in place as he began to thrust in and out, one splayed around her waist while the other slid around her front to play with her breasts.

“Ya didn’t think I was stoppin’, did ya?” His breath teased the shell of her ear.

A shudder of need ran through her at the feeling.

“Good...don’t stop!” She managed before the pleasure took her over again.

All she could do was moan his name as he fucked her harder, his cock hitting deep. Filling her up in the most delicious way possible. With each rapid thrust she was pushed up against her car, causing her clit to rub up against it and sending tiny shocks of euphoria through her body that left her gasping. The delicious friction of his cock pistoning inside her, coupled with that, had her crying out again, moving her hips back into him as she keened.

Inuyasha was groaning and grunting behind her and the sound turned her on even more. The noises he was making were almost animalistic and it excited her. Desire shot through her, the evidence of how good she was making him feel intensifying her own arousal, and the coil of her release tightened in response.

Raising her head, Kagome caught sight of her reflection in the windshield of her car and her eyes widened as she stared. Transfixed, she watched, her breath coming faster. Watched as she was fucked from behind, against her car, by the only man who had ever made her act in such a way. A man who should by all rights be a stranger, but who made her feel like no one ever had before. She had never witnessed anything like it, and a hot, sharp wave of lust pulsed along every nerve-ending before coiling low, right at her core.

The blissed out look on her face, the almost feral expression on Inuyasha’s... It was such an erotic vision, one she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from. More liquid heat pooled between her legs as her arousal and need heightened, the pressure building to unbearable levels.

His rhythm quickened, his breathing turning shallow, and Kagome could tell he was close to his climax. She was close, too. Her heart was a staccato beat in her chest, her breathing ragged, her skin slick with sweat. The slapping sound of skin and their moans, harsh pants, and gasps permeated the air. Reaching behind her, she grabbed onto his perfect ass, rolling her hips back into him, meeting his hard and deep thrusts.

“Inu-Inuyasha--ahh! Ah! Oh fuck, yes!” she cried out.

“Fuck...Kagome, I’m gonna--” Inuyasha grunted, leaning over her to wrap his arms around her as he thrust. Harder. Deeper. Faster. His mouth found her neck again and she threw her head back.

“--do it! I want it!” she said breathily.

His body went rigid behind her as he spilled himself inside her, breathing heavily and groaning from the force of his release. The warm sensation of his cum shooting up inside her combined with everything else sent her over the edge and she came right after, her orgasm almost blinding her in its ferocity. It spread through her like wildfire, strong and immediate, more intensely than she had ever felt before. For a moment, she saw stars and the world fell away. When she came back to herself Inuyasha was smoothing her hair to the side and pressing kisses to her shoulder.

“You good?” he rumbled into her ear.

Kagome smiled, almost laughing at the question. She was completely sated.

“More than good.”

“Good.”

He pulled out of her, turning her around so that she faced him. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her tightly while she waited for her legs to support her again. As the languid heat of her satisfaction began to dissipate, other thoughts took hold again, making her heart beat faster for an entirely different reason.

“Oh, God,” she whispered, suddenly feeling almost horrified. It made no sense after everything they had just done, but her sense of shame was returning along with her good sense.

Inuyasha frowned, his ears flattening.

“What’s wrong?”

Kagome buried her face in his chest as she spoke.

“I--I can’t believe I just… I mean, I know I said I wanted to, and told you not to stop, but--”

“--you regretting it?” His voice was low.

Kagome didn’t miss the underlying emotion of hurt beneath it. She rushed to explain.

“No! No!! Not at all. I just… I never do this. And I did. On the first date. I just feel something so-- so strongly for you, and I wanted it so much, but-- God, I can’t imagine what you think of me...”

Inuyasha seemed to relax at her confession, and he had the audacity to laugh. She glared against his chest.

“You said somethin’ like that before everything got heated. Listen, I told ya already. I feel it, too. And besides, I think you’re the hottest, most interesting woman I ever met.”

She raised her head from his chest to cautiously peek at his face. He gave her a fanged smile and she relaxed against him, sighing softly.

“You mean that?”

“Absolutely. Though your luck is cursed and the way you take care of your car is a crime.”

“Such sweet words. Keep talking to me like that and I just may believe you,” she teased, smiling back at him now.

“So...would it be weird to ask ya for another, actual date, now?”

“Not at all.”

She leaned up to kiss him and he returned it with interest. His mouth on hers, his body pressed against her...it was intoxicating. It was perfect. When they broke apart they were both breathing heavily again.

“Now, what was that about my customer service lacking…?” Inuyasha said, his gold eyes burning for her.

“I changed my mind. Five stars. Glowing reviews,” Kagome replied, her smile turning seductive.

And he proceeded to earn every word of praise.

#Inuyasha fanfiction #Inuyasha fanfic #inukag fanfic #InuKag #Inuyasha x Kagome #Customer Service #SMUT #LOTS OF SMUT

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teaspoon-full-of-sugar · 4 years

Text

selfish

pairing: harry styles x reader

warnings: allusions drug abuse, arguments, cursing, smut, angst, talk of depression

word count: 4.3k

synopsis: the aftermath of a break up

authors note: hello! okay, so, i just want to put a disclaimer about the way that i describe harry in this. i want to go on record, stating that this is purely a work of fiction. i don’t think this is how harry truly is as a person, nor does it reflect his views and actions toward mental illness. i am in no way romantisizing any behavior like this. also, this fic is kind of heavy, with depictions of depression (which are based on personal experiences; everyone deals with it differently) and angst so keep that in mind... i think that’s all! i hope you enjoy! thanks xx

—

The one thing Y/N is worried about is sleeping alone.

Coming back, after staying with her mother for two weeks, to find their once shared home completely stripped of anything to remind her of him is one thing, but the fact that she has to sleep in their bed, knowing full well he isn’t going to be coming in late after a long day at the studio, knowing that he isn’t going to be there to kiss that spot between her shoulder blades before he falls asleep, knowing that he isn’t going to be mumbling sweet nothings to her in the dead of night, knowing that he isn’t going to be there when she wakes up. He’s never going to be there again, not to hold, to kiss, or to make love to.

The thought of sleeping alone brings her close to breaking down and calling him.

But she can’t.

Isn’t it odd how, when you’re in the reflection period of the break up you focus mostly on the good parts of the relationship? Maybe it’s because you’re unconsciously trying to lift your spirits; perhaps it’s because your heart has been through a lot with a separation, and thinking of all the good memories is a coping mechanism, or maybe you’re trying to convince yourself that you made a mistake, even though you’re sure you didn’t.

Y/N doesn’t dwell too much on the months of loneliness she felt. She can’t seem to recall that she basically slept alone during the months leading up to their separation, with Harry staying out late, and even when they were in bed together, they slept on opposite sides, backs facing each other.

Instead, she remembers the nights where he was needy, desperate for any sort of contact with her, whining when she would move away in the slightest. She easily remembers the mornings where he snuggled close to her chest, his nose dangerously close to her cleavage and hands drifting across her skin. She remembers the beaming grin on his face when they woke up in a beach cabana in Jamaica, the sunlight seeping through the rippling blinds, the breeze warm and calm. She remembers the day she came back from a hard day at work, and he was there, with his arms open. That night, he wiped her stress-tears with his thumbs, and he told her that everything would be alright. She thinks about their first date, their first kiss, and so on.

Her heart wants to blame Harry for the downfall of their relationship. Surely, they would still be together if only he communicated more with her, if only he noticed anything. She could make millions of excuses. Her heart wants to blame him, but her head knows that they were both at fault.

They started distancing themselves after their three-year anniversary. It just sort of happened. They had been living together for a year. They had been way past the honeymoon stage, and they were comfortable with each other. They didn’t need to constantly talk or be close to one another anymore. This was normal for a three-year relationship; it was just a little slump, but as the months drew on, it got worse. They rarely talked; it was like living with family rather than a lover. He was distant, secretive almost. She knew that he wasn’t really hiding anything from her, he’d been cheated too many times to do the same to her, but it was as if he wasn’t comfortable being open with her anymore.

Slowly, Y/N felt herself falling into a hole that she didn’t know she could crawl out of. When she noticed herself withdrawing, it was with simple things, like not wanting to go out anymore, whereas that’s all he ever wanted to do, and then she barely had the energy to go to work, let alone out in public to socialize. She could always see the frustration in his eyes whenever she would tell him she would rather just stay in when he offered to take her out with him.

Soon, he just stopped asking.

He would come home late to find that she didn’t move at all, and he would crawl in bed, silence heavy between the two of them. Sometimes he would ask if she had eaten anything, and she would lie. He would be gone by the time she woke, busy with his high-demanding job before the sun even came up. She would find the bed empty and cold, and the day would start all over again.

The thing about Harry is that he doesn’t really understand what it feels like. He’s never had trouble with negative thoughts. He would never understand how much guilt she felt for not being the same person as she was when they met. He doesn’t know the sinking feeling in her stomach when he forgets to kiss her forehead in the morning, and how her mind runs wild with self-doubt. He’s never known how it feels to blame yourself for everything that goes wrong.

He doesn’t know how much of a burden she feels like because she couldn’t seem to make him happy anymore or how much it breaks her heart to feel him slipping through her fingers, and she’s just stuck, frozen with fear and anxiety and dread, wondering what she’s doing wrong, but that’s the thing. She knows exactly why things aren’t as good as they used to be. She’s fully aware that if she just put in a little more effort, they could be happy again, but when it comes down to it, she can never find the energy to do it. It’s a vicious cycle, and it’s so difficult to get past it.

Y/N went to her doctor before it got to the point of no return. She started taking her old medication, and she slowly felt like her old self again, getting out and appreciating things more and more. However, as she was starting to get back to her normal self, she noticed how much of a strain their relationship was in. She thought that if she got back to normal, everything would be fine. She tried her hardest to spend more time with him and get back to the way things were before, but he just pulled further and further away.

This was happening for months, but neither had the courage to say anything. Perhaps it was because they didn’t want to be alone. They didn’t want to go through the pain of a break up. They didn’t want to learn how to live without each other because they were together for three years. They were both so used to just having each other there that they didn’t want to consider the possibility of the other not being there.

When she finally admitted to herself that their relationship needed to end, it felt like a weight was put on her shoulders.

Despite everything, despite all the good memories, the time they spent together, and the warm love they once shared, the break up was for the best, really. At least, that’s what Y/N thought. Even though it was a long time coming, the break up was still less than amicable. Harry, on the other hand, was in denial, insisting they were fine. It was just a rough patch, and they could move past it; they had survived a lot worse.

She almost believed him.

But when she asked him to give her a reason to stay, to tell her to not give up on the past three years, he just looked at her with teary eyes, at a loss for words.

She wanted to hear him say, “I love you.”

If only he said those simple words, she would have stayed, and now, instead of being alone, wallowing in self-pity, and dreaming of what could have been, she would be with him, talking through their problems. He would promise to make more time for her, and she would tell him all about her poor state of mental health. He would apologize for putting her through any pain, for turning a blind eye when she was in need. She would beg him to forgive her for being less understanding, for jumping to conclusions and making decisions without communicating with him first. They would cry together, mourning the first chapter of their lives that was filled with domestic bliss and innocence, but they would also be filled with hope for the future and stronger than ever.

And maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

If only he said, “I love you.”

But he didn’t; his silence was answer enough. He couldn’t give her a reason to stay, so she didn’t. She nodded, tears finally spilling out.

“I’m—” Harry choked on his words, reaching helplessly for her. She hugged him one last time, cupping his cheek, and he dipped down, pressing their foreheads together. At this point, they were both exhausted. They fought, yelled, cursed each other, but when the dust finally settled, they were left devastated, left with absolutely nothing.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she whispered, broken and defeated. He let out a breath, lips quivering.

She knew what he was going to say.

I’m sorry.

She understood; she really did. She knew how painful it was to face your problems and to find yourself just stuck, unable to do anything or say anything to right your wrong, but she can’t really blame him. When you fall out of love, there is just no changing that, and it was selfish of her to expect his feelings to go back to what they used to be. He isn’t accustomed to change, so she understood how difficult it was for him to let go, to just discard their relationship, and move on like nothing ever happened.

Even though she understood, she had to walk away.

What’s the point of loving someone who doesn’t love you back?

Before she left, he kissed her, maybe it was for old time’s sake or maybe it was his last ditch effort to convince her to stay, and she almost did. She almost broke down and collapsed into his arms, relieved to feel safe and loved once again.

But she couldn’t.

She left that night with the bags that she had packed over a month ago, and told him that she would be back in two weeks to, hopefully, find an empty house.

—

Harry doesn't quite remember how he ended up in the dingy bathroom of an underground bar in downtown L.A. with a girl between his legs.

Then again, he can’t remember much of anything nowadays.

The night, hell, the past two weeks, has been blurred with tears, flashing lights, and lots of drugs and tequila.

He doesn't know the girl’s name, how they met, or even what she looks like, but he can’t bring himself to care. He lazily pulls her hair up into his fist, the strands stringy and dull. His grip is loose, just enough to hold it together so it didn’t get in her eyes. He leans his head against the brick wall, his knees weak.

He loses himself, his drug addled mind wandering. The buzzing of the lights above the sink pairs well with the bass coming from outside. The brick walls of the bathroom are graffitied with luminescent paint, which glows painfully bright in the black light. The faces and letters melt off the walls, dripping onto the floor and leaving a puddle, but the original shapes still remain. The tattoos on his arms move and shift; some fall to the floor, slithering toward the puddle from the paint on the walls. He grins, eyes rolling into the back of his head as the cloud of euphoria grows stronger, numbing his fingers. He flexes them, nearly laughing aloud at the tickling feeling that spreads through them.

He hasn’t binged this much in years, and he can feel it.

When he and Y/N first started dating, he stopped. Not necessarily because she forced him or even told him to, but he just didn’t want to anymore. Then, they broke up, and Harry has never been good with coping.

Feeling anything is better than feeling nothing at all.

"Harry," the girl moans, pressing her lips to his hip bone. The unfamiliar voice knocks him out of his stupor, eyes flickering open to see the girl staring up at him, alluring and dazed. He swallows, blinking slowly to come back to reality. Y/N never called him that. It was always H or Haz, never Harry. He can’t seem to quell the dismay that settles in his stomach, wishing he could get lost in his head again.

Maybe this time, he’ll be able to see Y/N.

He blinks slowly, focusing on her touch on his abdomen. It tingles, like when your leg falls asleep, and spreads down to his feet. It’s almost painful.

Feeling anything is better than feeling nothing at all.

“C’mere, baby,” he slurs, tucking his thumb beneath her chin. She smiles, biting her lip gently. She hooks her fingers in the belt loops of his pants, and she stumbles when she stands, tripping over her high heels. He barely catches her before she could fall, fingers digging into her waist. She’s thin; he can feel the divots of her ribs as she breathes deeply. Y/N always felt soft and warm. He would kiss and massage the little pooch hanging off her stomach and hips. It was always something she felt insecure about, but he always tried his best to make sure she knew that he loved it. The girl nestles into his neck, kissing and biting at the skin.

“Such a nice cock,” she moans, stroking him slowly. “What can you do with it?” He grins, tracing his fingers over the side of her neck. She has a tattoo of a butterfly there, with fancy script looping all the way up to her ear. He can’t make out what it says. He licks his lips, baring his teeth as the tips of his fingers dig into her skin. Her heart races. He leans in close to her ear.

“Bend over f’me, lovie, by the sink.” The pet name slips out before he can stop it, and it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. She smiles, smooth cheeks lifting with life beneath hollow eyes. Her makeup is flaking off. He thinks her eyes are bleeding for a second.

She leans against the sink, her back facing him, arching, compliant and vulnerable for him. Harry pulls one of her knees up onto the counter, the dark red dress bunching up to her hips. He traces the stitching of her leather dress, pulling her panties to the side. He traces the head of his cock over her slit.

“Fuck me, please,” she moans, her hips bucking against him. When he bottoms out, he closes his eyes, savoring the warmth swallowing him. He breathes out deeply as the room spins and closes his eyes, trying to focus on her tight walls, squeezing and milking him. When he feels stable again, he opens his eyes, bright colors flooding his vision. He thrusts his hips roughly against hers, and a groan bubbles in his chest.

The girl rests her cheek on her arms, glancing up at him with big eyes. They’re Y/N’s eyes, he realizes, filled with warmth and love and security. Y/N smiles from beneath him, teeth nibbling on her swollen lips, teasing him. Her nose crinkles suddenly as he hits that spot inside, and a gasp of pleasure slips through her lips, shallow and weak, breaking slightly at the end, but her serene features, content grin, and glimmering eyes show him nothing less than bliss.

It makes him falter, seeing Y/N for the first time in weeks. He’s barely been able to even think about her without breaking down, let alone look at pictures of her, so seeing her beneath him, panting and moaning like all those other times they made love, makes a sob grow in his chest. He leans closer, making her whine, and nestles his nose into her hair, grinding himself deeper into her. Her free hand moves to the back of his neck, fingers carding through his wet hair. He inhales her scent, an odd mix of vanilla and salt.

Her hand moves, trailing down to his on her hips, desperately clutching onto his fingers, their pinkies interlocking. That was something Y/N always did; somehow, she would always find a way to hold his hand. She told him that it kept her grounded, kept her from going off into a headspace, and reminded her that he was real.

That’s how he knows it’s her.

Tears burn his eyes, and his arm circles her middle, clutching onto any skin he can, eager to feel her. His fingers dig into her stomach, pressing until he can feel himself through her skin. A wave of relief washes through him, and he thinks he’s going to collapse, knees feeble. He rests his forehead against the crown of her head, and she turns slightly to kiss the curve of his jaw.

“Missed you so much, babylove,” he murmurs into her hair, the heat from his breath making her shiver.

“Faster,” she whimpers, backing into him. His fingers trace the skin of her neck, thumb and forefinger massaging just beneath her jawline. He can feel her heartbeat pick up.

“Feels so good, Y/N,” he moans, grinding his hips deeper into her. “D’ya like that, lovie? Such a dirty girl f’me.”

“Yes,” the girl whines, voice broken and weak. “Harry, ‘m gonna come.”

He blinks, once, twice, three times. There’s a ringing in his ears, muffling the sounds of her moans and the music thundering in the bar. He pushes himself from her and looks up, hands resting on the counter.

The mirror above him is grimy; despite that, he can still barely recognize the person staring back at him. Red blotchy rings paint the outside of his eyelids and beneath them are dark purple circles, stretching down to the tops of his cheekbones, making him look gaunt and hollow. His hair, greasy and tousled, slips down onto his forehead. Stubble coats his jaw and trails all the way down to the better part of his neck, which is marred with deep love bites.

Looking at the sorry state he’s in makes him nearly stumble back, but he feels his world stop for a second when he remembers that this girl isn’t Y/N.

That’s all it takes for his world to come crashing down.

”This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang but a whimper.”

Harry never really understood how easy it is to break something down after building it up so far. It takes just one drop of water to break a weak dam.

Like the dam, Harry’s walls came tumbling down.

The weight of the situation finally settles on him, and he feels like he can’t breathe. His chest tightens painfully as visions of the woman he loves pass before him. He remembers the first time he ever saw her, how she pulled him in with her smile, and when she spoke and laughed with him, he was a goner.

A coldness fills his veins, dread passing through him. He took her for granted, and he has to pay the price. He will never be with her ever again. He will never be able to hold her one last time. He isn’t going to marry her or grow old with her.

He lost the love of his life.

He just let her walk away.

“No, no, no,” he whispers, stumbling back to the opposite wall. His knees give out, and his back harshly hits the brick. He struggles to button his pants in front of this stranger, who is trying to also cover her modesty, tugging at her dress shakily. A sob wracks through him before he can stop. Clutching onto his mouth, he finally breaks. Guilt and pain sink into his stomach. His heart beats faster as he struggles to catch his breath, lips trembling. His nails dig into his arms as he cradles himself, knees tucked close to his chest. Blood drips through his fingers.

Feeling anything is better than feeling nothing at all.

“Are you okay?” The girl asks, kneeling in front of him. Her dress is pulled back down, but he can see remnants of himself on her skin, her thighs quivering and the skin of her neck wet from his kisses. Sweat on her hairline makes flyaways cling to her forehead. She wipes them away and reaches for his arm, eyes filled with concern.

He shakes his head and inches away from her, his shoulders digging deeper into the painted wall, all while pitifully wiping the wetness from his cheeks; his skin is dry though, no tears actually escaped. His heart races, feeling the pressure in his head build. All he wants to do is cry, but nothing will come out.

“I’m—” He begins, but the words get caught in his throat.

I’m sorry.

Memories of that night come crawling back, festering and pushing deeper into his mind until it feels like his head is going to burst. Y/N looked so sad, so weak, so empty. Her shoulders sagged, and her eyes, once radiant and optimistic, were hollow, void of any light.

When Y/N asked him to give her a reason to stay, he had millions of them, but when he looked at her, beaten down and tired, he couldn’t say any of those things. He couldn’t say any of them. He couldn’t say how much he loved her, how he knew that she was going to be the woman he married, how much she meant to him, even if he hadn’t shown it as often. He wanted to tell her to not give up on them because he didn’t know what to do without her; she was his rock and his safety net.

He couldn’t say any reasons because he was just being selfish. When she was so clearly broken, nearly deteriorating before his very eyes, he couldn’t make her stay.

So he let her go. He let her walk away, and when he kissed her for the last time, he felt all the pain she did over the past few months. He hated the fact that he was the cause of it.

It was for the best, for her.

Then, why does it hurt so much?

—

By two in the morning, Y/N is no closer to falling asleep than she was hours ago.

She started in their bedroom, sinking into the down comforter that Harry insisted they get, even though it got too hot for her liking. Now, it’s always cold, no matter what she does.

What makes it worse is the fact that it doesn’t smell like him anymore. There was no warmth or comfort left in that bare room. She tosses and turns for hours, trying not to think of the memories the two shared in that room, trying not to think of the paintings that were no longer there, trying not to think of the fact that he’s not going to be there. It’s not just one thing that makes her miss him. It’s a bunch of little things, like how his shoes aren’t thrown about at the door, piling up until she trips on a pair. Hell, she almost started crying when she saw that there was only one toothbrush in the holder instead of two.

It was for the best.

Y/N moved to the couch at around midnight, but it didn't help either.

She has honestly given up on trying to sleep. With a mug of coffee in hand, she settles onto the couch, sinking deep into the cushions. She contemplates getting a cat. It’s an impulsive act, really, but anything is better than the loneliness. She knows that she won’t end up getting one, but it’s nice to think about coming home to someone who missed you. She knows that the heartache will pass, but for right now, she’s left with doubt and sorrow.

An infomercial plays in the background, lighting the room. It’s bright, but the burning behind her eyes is from exhaustion. Sleep refuses to take her, mind filled with thoughts of Harry.

It’ll get easier, she tells herself. Sure, it’s tough, now, but soon, she’ll be able to sleep on the couch without thinking of the times they spent bingeing shows. Then, she’ll be able to sleep in their bed and not think of him snuggling into her, nose pressed into her neck, or waking in the morning to find him between her legs, or even how Harry had the terrible habit of talking in his sleep. She’ll be able to shower without thinking of the times when Harry would accidentally turn the lights off. She’ll be able to cook in the kitchen and clean the house on Saturday mornings and lay in the hammock on the back porch without thinking of him.

It’ll get easier, but for now, it’s just painful.

Y/N sighs, resting her chin on the pillow, which she has gathered in her arms, bundled and clutched tightly to her chest. Her thumb mindlessly caresses the velvet as fatigue gets the better of her. Just as she’s nodding off, her phone rings.

—

part two

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #ellie writes #ellie writes angst #ellie writes smut #not my gif #credit to owner

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louiserandom · 4 years

Text

Of Punishments and Rewards

Pairing: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara | Rating: M

Summary: The citizens of Konoha have long grown used to (and frankly bored of) the often destructive spectacle that is Madara and Tobirama screaming their lungs out at each other in the market district. During one such clash, however, Madara suffers an accidental concussion and proceeds to not-so-accidentally flirt with, grope, and expose his secret affair with none other than the white-haired Senju he's supposed to hate.

Now this has the whole village intrigued.

Read Chapter 1 on AO3 or continue under the cut :3 Ko-fi info is in the header!

The citizens of Konoha have long grown used to (and frankly bored of) the often destructive spectacle that is Madara and Tobirama screaming their lungs out at each other in the market district. So when today the Uchiha Clan Head, foul mood and all, stomps towards an unsuspecting Tobirama (who really isn’t bothering anybody and seems to be busy enough picking out oranges) and starts shrieking at the top of his lungs about some manner of ‘experimental bullshit' crawling out of Tobirama's 'death trap of a lab,' most of the passersby find themselves stifling a yawn.

Another day, another bout of fires and flooding from the two village founders whose hate for each other hasn’t diminished in the slightest in the two years of Konoha’s existence.

Grown stronger, if anything.

“BECAUSE I AM NOT,” Madara bellows at the end of his first public rant of the day (though surely not the last), “GOING TO STAND FOR YOUR BRAZEN INCOMPETENCE ANYMORE, SENJU!”

Of course, Madara accusing Tobirama of incompetence is also nothing new, although it is common knowledge that it’s the latter who often has to get the Hokage and his best friend out of ridiculously foolish debacles.

(Konoha still remembers how the two godlike shinobi somehow stumbled into quite the deep hole intended for garbage disposal and in their drunken stupor ended up forgetting that they could have simply jumped outーwhat with their immense chakra reserves no less. Tobirama, naturally, had been exceptionally cross that day.)

“Incompetence?” Tobirama only scoffs in answer. “Whatever problem you have with how I handle my duties, Uchiha, pales in comparison to the damage your complete lack of logic deals to society.”

“You shut the fuck up,” Madara snaps, fists clenching and chakra becoming visible alreadyーa faintly shimmering fire-cloak upon his form. That really never bodes well for the market’s survival. “And study the logic behind proper fucking sleep so your complete lack of sense and self-restraint doesn’t lead to more dangerous fucking jutsu that spiral out of fucking control!”

This does perk up a few ears; after all, what novelty of Tobirama Senju’s could appear more dangerous than his summoning of an undead army that past Obon Festival?

“I am conducting a perfectly safe study,” Tobirama says, though Madara doesn’t seem like he believes him at all. “And not of a jutsu but a living being. Though it’s unsurprising your handful of brain matter failed to distinguish the two.”

“A living being with nine godsdamned tails made out of enough chakra to wipe out the whole of Fire Country?!”

This perks up a few more ears but seeds no panic; it’s thanks to Tobirama, after all, that most of Konoha has seen much, much worse.

“It's a perfectly docile and friendly chakra fox,” Tobirama insists, crossing his arms. “Now for the love of all things holy and unholy, stop your shrieking.” He glances at the mostly disinterested crowd. “You’re embarrassing me. And yourself, though I doubt there’s any room to sink lower than you have.”

“I will fucking destroy you, you worthless piece of shit!” The crackles of a budding Katon flicker around Madara’s fists. “Now go and take care of your fucking experiment-living-chakraーwhatever bullshit, or I will fight you and there will be no remains left for your brother to cry over.”

Tobirama glares, straightening to his full height which has him towering above Madara’s bristling frame. “How so much fight can fit in so little a man,” he sneers, “I will never understand.”

Three things happen in quick succession.

Naturally, Madara attacks. A massive raging wall of fire sizzles straight at Tobirama, who matches Madara’s wild toothy grin with a smirk as he jumps out of the way with the usual easeーonly for Madara to charge at him, fist coated with white-hot flames, and unsurprisingly, Tobirama dodges yet again.

What does come as a surprise is Madara’s slight... miscalculation, it seems, as his eyes linger a bit too long in the general direction of Tobirama’s thighs for some reason, and he’s just slow enough to miss the giant crate of oranges that falls from a panicking store owner’s shelf.

“Madara-sama!” the salesman cries as the legendary Uchiha collides with the box headfirst and drops limply to the ground. “F-forgive me,” the poor man stutters, appearing quite a bit more worried about Tobirama than Madara’s squirming form.

After all, neither of the two are happy when their fights are interrupted before they can destroy at least one building, and as expected, the Senju in question frowns and visibly deflates.

“Madara?” Tobirama asks, tentative, banishing the spikes of ice he’s conjured with his jutsu.

“Mmm,” Madara articulates from the ground, face scrunched in pain as he squints at the sky as if it’s personally offended him. “Mm-wha?..”

In a yet unseen show of kindness, Tobirama walks up to him and kneels to check on Madara’s condition. Quite a few stares shift in their direction. Shouldn’t Tobirama be inclined to leave the Uchiha to suffer?

Apparently not.

“Madara? Can you hear me?” Receiving no answer, Tobirama coaxes him to sit up as he checks over his head. Though unwounded, it does appear he’s seriously concussed as he starts slurring nonsense and pointing at a part of the crowd mumbling something about ‘fute birdsies.’ “Listen, IーAnija will be really upset if you’re seriously hurt, so can you tell meー”

Madara slaps a gloved hand roughly over Tobirama’s mouth. Another uncharacteristic move that provokes many a frown. The pair usually avoid skin to skin contact religiously, even when fighting.

“Your lips,” Madara slurs, eyes unfocused as he stares dazedly at his supposed enemy, “could putーbe put to... much better use than talking.”

“W-what?” Tobirama stammers, shoving the hand away and scrambling to his feet.

“I said your lips,” Madara tries to clarify, before Tobirama cuts him off, “Shut the fuck up, you moron!” he grits through his teeth, extending a hand to the Uchiha as he flops back down to lie on the ground.

“And get up," Tobirama orders, "now. I’m taking you to Anija. Concussions are tricky to heal and I might not be able to avoid leaving lasting effects.”

Madara smirks, and for some reason that prompts a look of horror to settle on Tobirama’s face. For good reason, as the onlookers discover.

“It’s always up for you, Tobirama,” Madara’s slurring is mixed with a bit of a stupid-sounding drawl as he positively ogles Tobirama, eyes once again lingering a tad lower than appropriate. “The question is if you wanna play.”

“Madara!” Tobirama hisses, casting death glares at the crowds now circled around them as one unified and now definitely intrigued mob. “Stop this foolishness right this instantー”

“Stop isn’t our safe-word, Tobiー”

“ーand take my fucking hand!”

“I’d rather have it wrapped around myー”

“MADARA!” Tobirama is trembling with fury at this point, chakra radiating killing intent enough for shinobi and civilian alike to feel it wash over them. The people gathered only scuffle closer, disappointed that the rest of Madara’s sentence gets drowned out by Tobirama’s shout and their own collective gasp. Tobirama pinches the bridge of his nose. “Not. Here.”

“I kno-ow,” Madara whines, finally grasping for Tobirama’s hand only to use it to yank him down once he gets ahold of it. “This hand indefーit definitely needs to be reaching a lot lower.”

“Madara, gods fucking dammit,” Tobirama growls as he wrests himself from Madara hold, “people are staring.”

To be fair, the self-proclaimed honorable and pure-hearted citizens of Konoha make an effort to pretend they aren’t gapingーwhich really isn’t an easy task though, because the display is turning out to be more exciting than any of the village-wide festivities to date.

“Oh?” Madara seems to be trying to raise one eyebrow but ends up skewing his face into an awkward frown at best. “If yesterday’s anything to go by, you don’t mind a little voytriloquism yourself, koibito.”

Another round of gasps follows as Tobirama blanches, mouth slightly agape and lips trembling. Someone helpfully shouts, “Do you mean voyeurism, Uchiha-sama?”

“Yes-yes!” Madara pipes up, still squirming helplessly on the ground. “Voyagerism. That.”

“Uchiha,” Tobirama glowers, a sheen of blue energy wrapping around his limbs as his ire escalates, “I am literally begging you toー”

“Didn’t get enough earlier, eh?” Madara leers, finally managing to wriggle into a half-sitting position, sending a few oranges rolling on the ground. Intrigued and unperturbed by Tobirama’s spluttering (and what a strange sight it is, to see the usually composed Senju at such a loss for words), Madara picks up two of the fruits and proceeds to shock the bystanders to the core once more, “You know, they say fresh squeezed oranges are good for you in the morning, but I think your fresh squeezed diー”

“MADARA, NO!” Tobirama roars, this time quite evidently to drown out Madara’s words.

“Madara, yes,” the Uchiha moans, “that’s all I remember you saying to me this morning.” A few desperate “Kai” resound in the area as Madara Uchiha incarnate starts licking the oranges in his hands. He keeps eye contact with Tobirama all the while as he sucks on them, shameless and wanton, swirling his tongue over the fruits with such wanton enthusiasm one might think him a common harlot. “Remind you of anything, To-bi-ra-ma?”

Needless to say, the world plunges into chaos. Choruses of cheers and wolf whistles, sounds of both affront and confusion erupt from the bystanders as quite a few women rush to cover their husbands’ eyes lest they require the same astonishing level of skill from them.

Tobirama, meanwhile, seems to have finally regained his ability to act, if not speak, and proceeds to grab Madara by his collar and drag him into a wobbly stance, slapping a hand bathed in faint green glow against the Uchiha’s forehead.

"Get permanent brain damage for all I care.” Tobirama gives Madara a pretty hard shake. “Now will you stop fucking talking?”

"You don’t tell me what to do, Senju,” Madara grumbles, looking a bit steadier on his feet now even as his voice still sounds a bit shaky. “And how did I get here?”

Tobirama ignores him, directing one last glower at the excited crowd as he commands, “Don’t you dare speak a word of this to the Hokage,” before disappearing into thin air with Madaraーhis secret lover, something Konoha still can’t wrap its collective head aroundーin tow.

Granted, the younger Senju must have sensed his brother’s approach because the next second none other than Hashirama steps into the market with the usual wide grin on his face, flowers sprouting on each patch of ground he steps on. The crowd stills and grows silent but for a few moments as Tobirama’s order rings clear in their minds, and yet,

“What happened here?” Hashirama asks in childlike confusion.

In just a handful of moments, it proves too much of a temptation for Konoha prolific rumor mill to resist.

“Madara was doing what in front of my Otouto?!”

#madatobi #tobimada #madara uchiha #tobirama senju #humor #fanfic #lou writes #idiots in love #naruto

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just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi · 4 years

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Worth (PT 1) - Nik

[Yeah, I couldn’t dump this all in one piece... but no worries! Part II is already queued for tomorrow!]

CW: public humiliation, magical whumpee, magical exhaustion, collared whumpee + leash, intimate whumper (nothing overtly sexual but Ramona’s got some themes) noncon touch, food, implication of attempted Starvation, fainting, it as a pronoun, dehumanization.

Word count ~ 2,000

Previous ~ Masterlist ~ Next

Nik looked in the mirror, seeing a melancholy smile on his face.

He had thought about this ever since he was little. Ever since he was young and first found that spark of joy in learning and wanted to share it with others. He had dreamt of this day, of seeing the regalia that he earned.

He just never thought it would be like this.

He never thought that he would make them, using bits of magic to transform the cloth and stiches into the badges that he had earned. Never thought that his robes would be salvaged from some human’s wardrobe, not made by his people.

None of it was presented to him, but it had all been earned.

It had been earned over years of dedication and effort. Of focus and determination, keeping this moment in his mind when the work seemed overwhelming or impossible.

He may have made them, but he had earned each one. He wouldn’t disgrace them by giving himself an honor unearned.

The badges where symbols of esteem and knowledge. They were hard earned, the committee known for being ruthless towards young applicants. The interrogations had lasted hours, one even was halted and resumed the next day. But Nik had made it. He had answered their every question and posed his own back to them.

They, strung across his sash and on his chest, were his armor. They were his accomplishments and his prestige. They were physical proof when his mind told him he wasn’t smart enough, good enough.

Or at least, his badges at home were.

These were nothing but fabric and magic. They meant nothing to the humans that would see them. They would look past the symbols and never bother to try and understand their meaning. To understand what he went through to earn each one.

He didn’t care.

They were his. He had earned them, and he was proud of them. Even when everything else was stripped away, he could remind himself that he was more than what they used him for.

Nik took a deep breath and check again for any last details. He had braided his hair again, nearly forgetting where he was in the familiar process. The braid was like a crown on his head, leaves weaved through. Kia used to tease him that he looked like a prince, but he never minded. It was a familiar comfort, to be able to look in the mirror and recognize the figure in it.

He held onto the parts he could recognize, even if his own face seemed unfamiliar.

He was pale, now. Pale and thin looking. His eyes were dulled, cheeks more hollowed than what he was used to. Even his hair was weaker, looking faded against the bright green leaves.

He looked away.

It was close, but it wasn’t real. Like his cage; just an illusion of the world outside. The world he would never see again.

He rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand, the other running a thumb over a badge.

I’m worth more than this, I’ve done more than this, I am more than this. I’ve got to be.

“Don’t you look dashing?”

He turned quickly, daring a small step back. The Sorcerer, dressed in his own ornate robes, simply scoffed and strode up to him.

Nik found himself holding his breath. What if he knows? That this isn’t really formal dress? The Sorcerer could be so temperamental; possessively claiming Nik as his own one moment and leaving him alone for days the next.

But the Sorcerer simply look him up and down, eyes settling on the crown of leaves.

“Where did you get that?”

“I, I grew it,” Nik answered, eyes locked on the man in front of him. “Simple spell – weak one! The spell is a weak one.” Nik swallowed and risked another miniscule step back. Using magic without permission was the fastest way to send the Sorcerer into a rage, but he had had permission for this. Right? He had had permission to transform anything here, and he had found the seed here.

The Sorcerer shrugged and turned as he reached for something. Nik let out a silent sigh of relief, shoulder sagging a bit with it. His breath froze again, however, when he saw what was in the Sorcerer’s hands.

A collar.

A gold collar, thick with designs etched into it. They weren’t the runes imbedded in the cuffs, these only decorative. There was a hoop in the front that could have a lead attached to it.

His eyes widened at the sight and he drew his hands up to his chest protectively.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” he said quickly, eyes fix firmly on the thing. The Sorcerer gave him a hard stare; waiting.

Nik bit his lip and tried to calm his breathing. He took a moment to compose himself and swallowed, tentatively taking a step forward. Then another. There was no point in fighting back, no point in making this harder on himself.

He trembled against his will as the man clasped the metal around his neck. The man drew out a thin leather lead and Nik’s fingers found the edge of his sash once again. I’m worth more than this, I’m more than this, I’m worth more than this.

The man gave it a test, and Nik jerked forward with a squeak pathetic even to his own ears. Grinning, the Sorcerer reeled him in and grabbed the collar.

“You are going to behave. You will be obedient and quiet. If you aren’t, I will drain you and leave you in the dark so long you forget your own name.” Nik’s eyes went wide with terror, but the man wasn’t finished.

“I’ve pulled you out from there before, and I will do it again. And the moment you recover, I will drain you and put you back again. Do not cross me tonight.” Nik nodded furiously, forgetting how to breathe.

~ He tried to stand tall. He wanted to stand tall. He wanted to remain dignified, but it felt nearly impossible with the collar around his neck and the short lead. The eyes of the room were on him constantly, and he could feel them bore into his skin. Their stares were daggers, digging deep into him. Judging and seizing and jealous.

He took a deep breath, letting his resolve harden. To see him, they had to look past his accomplishments. Nik told himself that they saw them, they recognized them, they knew what they meant.

Even if they didn’t.

“Argamon!” cried a woman’s voice. The Sorcerer turned his head, and Nik realized for the first time he had never heard the man’s name. He only referred to him as the man, the Sorcerer, or the vampire. It was strange, to know that this man had a name. He had a name and a family and life. All of the things that he had taken from Nik, he got to enjoy himself.

He didn’t know Nik’s name. He had never asked. He never would.

“Ramona, my dear. How good to see you,” the Sorcerer greeted warmly, kissing the woman’s hand. She had long black hair, laying over her open shoulders in a crushed velvet dress. She looked dead into Nik’s eyes, and he suppressed a shudder.

Her eyes were just as invasive and searching as the man’s.

“Why look here! You found one,” she said, raising Nik’s chin with her hand. “Wherever was it?”

Nik straightened, letting a smirk rest on his face. He had such little power now, nearly none, but he had this. He waited, seeing the Sorcerer’s disingenuous smile.

“Oh, I could never tell. You know how I am.”

Nik huffed silently. A lie, relying on his reputation to keep him from telling the embarrassing truth; he had taken a vow to never say. He could never lead another monster to Nik’s people. It was the slightest of balm on Nik’s wounds, but it was more than he had had before.

“Well, fine then. Keep your secrets. But tell me, is it as intoxicating as presumed?”

Her hand was still holding his chin, keeping their eyes locked. Nik hated it. Hated the feeling on being consumed by eyes, again and again and again.

“See for yourself.”

Her hand dropped, picking up the Sorcerer’s instead. Nik locked his jaw and looked to the floor.

I’m more than this, I’m more than this. I am worth more than they use me for.

He felt the buzzing around his wrists first as he always did. The slow, numbing feeling of grains like sand underneath his skin pull towards the cuffs. His teeth ground together, and he found himself pressing the edge of his sash so firmly he was sure his fingertips were turning white.

Thankfully, it wasn’t long. The numbness had only crept a few inches away from the golden cuffs before it stopped. Nik took a deep breath, trying to steel himself for whatever was coming next.

He didn’t except a moan.

“Oh, Argamon,” Ramona gasped, and Nik wanted to shrink away. The lilt of her voice turned his stomach and made his face red. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of this but that no longer mattered. Nothing that he wanted mattered to anyone. They took. They took for themselves, they took and gave parts of him to others. The Sorcerer had collared him and put him on a leash to show off to all his awful, revolting friends.

Nik could do nothing. He could do nothing to stop the man, and he could do nothing to stop the graceful hand that cupped around his cheek again.

He flinched away, but the hand followed.

“How could you tease a lady like that?” she crooned, stroking a thumb across Nik’s cheek. He winced and squeezed his eyes shut. No, no please stop. Please please please don’t.

The man only laughed. “Oh, you think that was teasing?”

The snap of the Sorcerer’s fingers caught Nik’s attention, and he felt himself looking up to the sound. Ramona laughed and pulled her hand away.

“Oh! You have it so well trained!”

Nik’s face burned even hotter. I’m not trained! That, that’s not, I didn’t, it just got my attention. I’m on edge and it got my attention. I’m not trained.

He hoped he wasn’t lying to himself.

Gold eyes begged the man. To help him, to stop her, to take him away to not face this humiliation anymore. Even if he caught the pleas, the man wouldn’t have acted on them. No, he had other plans.

The man pulled something from the pocket of his robe and Nik’s eyes went wide with surprise. He could feel his breath hitch for a moment, hopefulness and desire marred by shame at such a strong reaction for such a common thing.

A nectarine.

The Sorcerer fed him; seemingly more than necessary, really. Nik had assumed humans must eat quite frequently, judging on bread and rations that were delivered every day. He had eaten more in the workshop, away from the trees and sun, but now that he was in his cage he simply needed less of the human’s food.

The back of Nik’s mind recalled that there had been less provided lately. Less, and never anything fresh or uncooked. Distantly, he knew he was playing right into the man’s hand, but he didn’t care.

He wanted even the smallest amount of comfort. Even if he had to be forced to view it as comfort.

Nik’s eyes flicked from the small fruit to the Sorcerer’s face, asking silently for permission. Asking if it was joke. Hoping not to be punished for falling into the possible trap.

The Sorcerer held it out to him and tipped his head, gesturing for Nik to take it.

Somehow this, this gratefulness for the smallest act of kindness overcame the shame and hopelessness. He felt those hanging off his skin every day. Every time the Sorcerer looked at him with such hungry eyes or he saw through the illusion of his enchanted cage, the shame and humiliation crept into him and stayed until he was too numb from loss to remember it.

For just a moment, one moment in a forest of bad ones, he wanted to feel this as comfort.

He reached for it, and forcefully ignored the buzz underneath his skin.

It was faint, but the echo of life outside was still there. Distant, disconnected from the tree it was grown from, but faintly there. He could still feel it, still trace the lines that connected it. The smell alone made his eyes water. It was such a small thing, so insignificant to everyone else in the room, but it was the closest to freedom that Nik would ever know again.

Even if he was to be brought outside, it would only be to repair his broken mind.

He blinked heavily and winced. His head, the side of his head throbbed. Nik cleared his eyes and tried to adjust to such a sudden change. He was laying on the ground, head throbbing and body feeling numb. He couldn’t remember how he got there. Did he fall? How long ago? What happened? Nik tried to sit up, tried to rise onto his elbows, but a wave of dizziness kept him down. He lulled his head to the side, seeing a distant, out of reach orange ball.

A laugh rung through the air.

“Ramona!” The Sorcerer scolded, laughing as he did so, “You can’t draw so much! I know you indulge yourself, but this isn’t yours to play with.”

He crouched down and laid a hand on Nik’s chest, letting some of the magic flow back into him. While the dizziness and some of the weakness receded, it was still an awful feeling. There was a certain lack of control, a certain lack of bodily autonomy that would sit with him long after the Sorcerer’s hands left his skin.

Nik breathed through the waves that sunk deep into his bones. After a moment, he stood. His legs still felt shaky and unsteady, but he wouldn’t remain on the floor. He could stand, and he would stand.

He wanted to brush off his clothes. The rid them of the wrinkles and the dusk, to straighten the sash and run his fingers along the badges, but they didn’t feel the same now.

No matter what he was truly worth, in their eyes he would only ever be worth this.

[I also wanted to say thank you to the messages that i’ve got about Nik’s story. I can’t even explain how encouraging it is to know that people love him as much as I do.]

@welcome-to-the-whumpfest @ohmywhump @thehopelessopus @luminouswhump @lonesome--hunter @pepperonyscience @insanitywishes @redstainedsocks

[If you would like to be added or removed, please let me know!]

#whump #magical whumpee #magical exhaustion #public whump #kinda #collar #intimate whumper #noncon touch tw #food tw #implied starvation #fainting tw #dehumanization tw #nik #iwrotethis #lol can you tell I was a honor student that didn't get to have a graduation ceremony???#it's so subtle #part two tomorrow!

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casualcatte · 3 years

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[RP Journal] January 12, 2021

I’m not even sure I have the words for how wrongly everything went this evening. From the meeting with the Night Raid to whatever was going on with Siannault Tavard and Rae-Hann.

The meeting in and of itself wasn’t bad. I just felt like I was stepping out of my involvement right when they might need me most. I promised Rae-Hann, though. I told him that once I was done with this last bit with Ollie I was well and truly done. I know he worries about me and I know he just wants to keep me safe. I was raised that you always keep your word to the people you care about most. Rae-Hann has enough trouble with trusting people and letting them close without me breaching that trust when he extends it to me.

My only saving grace is that I feel like I’m leaving V’hala Helsi in good hands. Between Tetsuro Wulf, Nan’to Vaadrage, V’ari Tia, Siannault, and Rae-Hann my presence and contributions seem superfluous really. What have I really accomplished since being involved? I played distraction for E’nijah Suzume during the warehouse investigation, learning little to nothing of value except for, perhaps, the presence of the Disgruntled Transient. After that, I followed up with that transient, only to find out that Rae-Hann and Siannault had gone before me, not that I begrudge them getting involved. I simply wish they’d told me so we could coordinate our efforts.

(Courtesy cut -- This is a LONG one folks, hang on to your seats!)

I’d gotten angry with them the night I found out, which should honestly surprise no one. It’s well-known that I have a temper, but somehow I’m supposed to just plod along docile as a sheep and let people run roughshod over an operation and efforts that we’ve been painstakingly putting together for weeks without being informed until they were good and ready. And it’s not like /they/ could claim they didn’t know, I’ve kept them well-informed since all this started. So, yes, I got angry, I got belligerent.

To top it all off, they did this not half-a-bell before we opened the Stars Rest Inn for our public tavern night. So, not only did I have to deal with that, I had to put on my best inn-keeper’s smile and go serve people for several hours on top of it with naught but that to dwell on!

But that was weeks ago and I’d long since moved on from then. I never heard from Siannault at all, except through Rae-Hann who was understandably worried that the man had become withdrawn, preoccupied, uncommunicative. Out of everyone in the whole world, I would have expected Siannault to talk to Rae-Hann, but for days, weeks afterward there was nothing with Rae-Hann seeming even more sick and worried each time I saw him. And it rankled.

Rae-Hann has been part of my life since long before Edgard, long before the Twins, before the Night Raid, and before Siannault. If anyone means the most to me, it’s that silly, grump-faced mystel from Norvrandt. We’ve been through a lot together, overcome a lot of things together. If he wasn’t so clearly into men, I might have fallen for him once, but I think I rather like being his friend and student with him instead. Our friendship has grown a lot over the past year or so -- but whatever happened tonight may ruin it irrevocably.

When I was young, I grew up in the Hunt. My world, my upbringing, was about survival. To that end, my mother was ruthless and hard when it came to my lessons and learning the ways of the world. “Tough love” my father called it, hard truths that needed to be heard in order for me to get better, to improve -- to survive. While I don’t believe I’m quite as ruthless as Maora, I do operate under the same principles of honesty, telling people hard truths, and really making them look at things. For most, this works, but there are some on the rare occasion who simply can’t handle it. Now, I know my truths are not absolute, they aren’t the be-all, end-all of anything. At the end of the day, they’re purely my opinions, which people are more than free to throw out with the trash if they don’t agree with them. If people ask me for my opinions or my help, though, I like to think they know me well enough to understand that.

So when Rae-Hann sat Siannault down in front of me, telling him “we” wanted to know what was going on with him, that “we” cared about him -- I thought that was Rae-Hann’s way of asking me to step in, to help him get to the root of whatever was going on. After all, Siannault hadn’t responded to /him/ in any way, so what, really, would be the harm? I watched, though, as Rae-Hann reached out to him, again and again, and that elezen just sat there barely replying to anything. The more it happened, the more agitated Rae-Hann became. I couldn’t take it anymore.

If Siannault wouldn’t react to Rae-Hann’s gentle, loving insistence, I thought for sure he’d respond to being provoked. Questioned. Insulted. Something. /Anything/ to show some kind of reaction that he gave a damn about us. About Rae. Siannault went and puked in the sink. Said nothing. Did nothing, except heave what little contents of his stomach existed.

Rae-Hann eventually grew so frustrated that he lashed out at me, which I don’t really blame him. If someone was taking Edgard to task in front of me, I’d probably have some choice words to say to them too. Regardless how much it might have been deserved, no matter how much it might have just been a ruse to get Siannault to /react/ to something -- it still stung. Like I said, Rae-Hann has been by my side longer than anyone else, his opinions, his thoughts of me, carry more weight than most.

Everything always has to be about you, he’d said, as if everything I did had some selfish motive. I didn’t want to ruin your cozy, idyllic life at the inn with all the shite that goes on outside it. I /know/ the world is chaos; I don’t need to be shielded from it. I’d rather people be honest with me about the good and the bad in their lives rather than constantly hiding it until I find out about it anyway. It happens eventually, so I really don’t see the point in perpetuating the fiction when the truth is just so much easier to face head-on.

It’s neither here nor there, though. Even by that point, Siannault had reacted to nothing but the kitchen sink, even pulling away from Rae-Hann when he asked after him. The Starlight Gift I’d given to Siannault before all this started sat unopened on the counter. Nothing. Nothing. And nothing some more. I was doing more to upset Rae-Hann even further than I was to getting through to Siannault, so rather than do any further damage, I took my leave.

My steps took me down to a small beach alcove not far from the Rest. I listened to the sounds of the sea and the night-song -- and wept. I don’t cry often and it’s usually only when something goes on in my Found Family that’s so intensely hurtful that I can’t help it. Rae-Hann saying those things cut deeply. None can hurt us quite so well as those who are closest to us.

Was I selfish? Did I truly make everything about me? I started going through everything I’d said, done, or taken on over the past several moons, mentally combing through them with a fine-toothed comb. Why was I helping V’hala? Why was I helping Edgard? Or Rae-Hann and Siannault? It wasn’t for glory. It wasn’t for fame. It wasn’t even for gil. Or even their gratitude. I just wanted them all to be free of whatever plagued them. Free, content, and happy -- as I was. Letting go of my past, letting go of the Saurotaun, was one of the best decisions I’d ever made. Once I let that go, things in my life suddenly snapped into place as if waiting for me to finally unload the ballast of my tragic history. Was it selfish to want that for other people? Especially when it’s the people I care about most?

All these thoughts were tumbling around in my head when Edgard Beaumont found me. Together, he and I had a long talk about everything that had gone on and we both agreed that sometimes -- there really is nothing you can do. No matter how helpless we feel to look on and watch the people we care about suffer, sometimes it’s the only thing you /can/ do. They have to be ready to take on the problem /themselves/ before they can ever really hope to let others help them, otherwise, we’re fighting a losing battle from the onset.

As we talked, we spoke of my own shortcomings when it came to being protected. He tried to make it clear to me that just because other people have traumas that make them want to be overprotective and overbearing doesn’t mean that they feel I’m incapable or inferior. What other reason could anyone have for putting someone behind them like they’re weaker or more vulnerable? Edgard explained it simply: For love.

“You know I'm not going to jump haphazardly in front of you at the slightest risk,” he’d said. “But I would risk my life for you without thinking twice, Aultena. I said it the day I told you my feelings, and I'll say it again. If something happened to you, it would shake me to the core."

It wasn’t about protecting /me/ from harm -- it was about protecting /themselves/ from pain. It had nothing at all to do with me or my skill, but everything to do with the depth of their own feelings. Why had I never realized this before? Surely, someone, somewhere had explained it in all the times I’ve fought with people about it. Perhaps I wasn’t being receptive. Perhaps I just plain wasn’t listening like I should have been.

I’m far from perfect and I’ve made a lion’s share of mistakes. I’ll probably make plenty more before my time in this world is done. One thing I’ve always been good at, though, is owning up to my actions when I realize I’m in the wrong.

Once Edgard and I parted ways, I returned to the Stars’ Rest only to find Rae-Hann and Siannault still there, still arguing from the sounds of it. Yet, no sooner than I arrived, Rae-Hann announced that Siannault was leaving and the elezen did with a finality to it that said he wouldn’t be coming back. As he made his way out the door, I tried to apologize, both to him and to Rae-Hann, but neither of them were having it. Rae-Hann was too angry still and Siannault still too apathetic. So nothing at all had changed from my presence or my absence.

My heart ached for Rae-Hann. Things had been so right, so content over the Starlight holidays, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so happy -- which is honestly saying a lot for Rae after everything he’s been through. If he blames me for what happened, I can hardly blame him. He’ll need someone to blame; he’ll need someone to be angry with. And that person will never be Siannault, even though this could have all been solved so easily if he’d just talked to Rae-Hann as he’d asked. Pleaded. Begged.

So I’m content to let it be me. Our friendship may not survive this, but these are the sacrifices we make for family. For the ones we love.

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comicgeekscomicgeek · 3 years

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Their Hero Academia – Chapter 81: Turning a Corner

Presenting the next installment of my on-going, nextgen, MHA fic! Earlier chapters can be found here

The instant Katsuki had asked to “borrow” Park for a bit, the Shiketsu students had erupted into chaos. Shida looked on the verge of panic, those extra limbs of hers twitching, while Tsuchikawa looked only slightly worried. Shinji looked nervously between him and Park, but ultimately settled into a kind of hard look that mixed protectiveness of his classmate with a trust in Katsuki.

Smart kid. Respectful too. Always used his Sir’s around Katsuki. Exuberant as his old man though, which meant he was best in small doses.

It wasn’t surprising that Tatsuma was the one who had a problem with it. The giant girl stepped between Katsuki and Park protectively. “With all due respect, sensei” she began, in the same way Katsuki had used countless times over the years, where no respect was actually intended, but the performative aspect of it was required, “I’m not sure I should allow you to be alone with my classmate.”

For fuck’s sake, what kind of monster did these kids think he was? And sure, he’d spent more than enough time threatening to blow Villains apart, or shove their heads up their asses, or take out enough of their teeth that they’d be drinking from a straw the rest of their lives, but he wasn’t some psycho who’d explode at the drop of a hat!

Just because he was known for having a temper and this little brat had beat the shit out of his daughter was no reason to think he was going to enact some kind of brutal revenge!

“Sticking by your friend’s a good quality to have,” he said, holding Tatsuma’s gaze and not backing down in the slightest. But neither did he put up any more of aggressive posture than he already was. He was here to build bridges, not burn them. “Your classmates are lucky to have you looking out for them. But I promise you, I’m not here to dish out punishment or anything like that. I just want to talk. We won’t even go far, in case you hear something that makes you want to come running.”

Tatsuma frowned, but dropped her challenging stance. She looked over at Park, her eyes seeming to ask what do you want to do?

And that was the scary thing, wasn’t it? Park hadn’t flinched, hadn’t budged. She’s shown no fear whatsoever. But she hadn’t shown any other kind of reaction either. It was as though she was just resigned to whatever happened to her. What the hell had they done to this girl? Who the hell had done this to this girl? Even with what he’d read in her file, it didn’t all add up to this.

“It will be fine,” Park said. “There’s nothing he can do to me.” That hasn’t already been done was left unsaid, but Katsuki heard it hanging in the air all the same.

He had worked with Heroes who fought traffickers and some of the worst scum the world had to offer, serial killers, rapists, and even cannibals. Some of them managed to find the balance separate themselves from the job and live at least something like a normal life. But some of them saw the worst and lost a part of themselves to it. Something inside them died. You could see it in their eyes.

Park’s eyes were the same.

***

Park followed quietly behind Katsuki, stopping when he did once they got closer to one of the compound’s utility sheds. She remained stoic, almost uncaring, but there was an element of readiness. He’d been on the receiving end of any number of lectures and chewing outs over the years. He knew what it looked like when you knew you were getting one of those. This wasn’t it.

It was the kind of readiness where you were prepared to, at a moment’s notice, either physically defend yourself or hold yourself to a dignity that would not give your attacker satisfaction. He had a brief flashback to being violently restrained and muzzled at his first Sports Festival.

“I am ready, seon seang nhim,” she stated in a neutral tone. She used the Korean phrase for “teacher,” which he vaguely recalled included not using the teacher’s name as it was considered disrespectful to show familiarity.

Katsuki frowned, briefly, but forced himself to keep a more professional expression. As much as part of him wanted to tear into this kid for beating his daughter, that wasn’t something an adult did to a child. It wasn’t something a teacher did either. Katsuki would have to ask the damned hobo how he’d kept himself from killing kids like him.

“Okay,” he said, carefully. His anger rose up in him, like a threating to spill out like a bomb, but he forced it back down. “I’m not going to lie to you. I’m mad as hell. And I’m not saying there wasn’t blame to go around. But I want to hear your side of things first, before anything else.”

“There is nothing to tell,” Park explained plainly. “The arrogant one had us fight each other to demonstrate a lack of practical martial training as some sort of lesson in not becoming arrogant with our quirks. I treated it as I would any fight in the line of duty.” She tilted her head back at where Hokori and the other Shikestsu students still were. “By the instructor’s own logic, I acted accordingly. If anything, I exercised restraint.” She said all this was stone cold logic, but the expression on her face indicated she didn’t expect him to accept that logic.

Park’s description of Boost-Rush as “the arrogant one” nearly had Katsuki laughing. If that wasn’t the truth!

“You get you’re a student, right?” he asked. He was trying not to be sarcastic, but some of that bled through. “There’s giving your all in training and there’s going all out in the field. And even with that, there’s proportionality of a threat.”

His own words came back to haunt him again, ringing in his ears. HE WON’T DIE IF HE DODGES!

That wasn’t who he was anymore. Not most days, anyway. He pushed that particularly unsettling memory down. “Is that how you do your training at Shiketsu?”

She looked him straight in the eye. “No, I learned that by simply surviving in the neighborhood my parents were dumped in when they fled the Humanist bigots back home. They didn’t realize they would be even less welcome here. Some were very explicit in their disdain of our presence.”

She was speaking calmly, but there was the barest hint of a murderous rage in her eyes, simmering and growing steadily, the lid barely holding it back.

Katsuki knew all about rage. His is irrational, a fire that flares up like one of his explosions and takes out everything that’s nearby. It’s a flashfire anger, lashing out at whatever upsets him, whatever perceived wrongs the universe or some specific individual has committed against him. It’s rarely as justified as he’d like to pretend it is.

On his good days, he’s tamed his. He learned to use it, fueling his actions in battle. Outside of that, the worst he usually gets these days is yelling. There’s times, like earlier with Boost-Rush, where he did lose his control, and unleashed his anger on someone through violence. But it’s not like before, not like when he was a child, where would sometimes vent his anger on Izuku for perceived slight of challenging his status as “top dog.”

He hadn’t been a rich kid, like Glasses or Ponytail or IcyHot. But he’d been remarkably well off as a kid. Nice neighborhood, never had to worry about anything. The struggles this kid or others like her had faced, he couldn’t have begun to imagine. And add being an immigrant on top of that…

“You had to fight just to survive,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

She stared at him for a moment, then lifted her shirt slightly above her waist. This revealed the scar of a deep gash.

“That was at the hands of Japanese motorcyclists who objected to a “chon” being in their neighborhood.” She turned and exposed her lower back, which revealed a series of jagged scars. “A Zainichi gang leader ran barbed wire over my back for “drawing the Japanese back on us.”

She then kicked off her shoe, leaned down and took the sock off, revealing her little toe was missing. “And that was some of my own “countrymen,” gangsters who wanted me to join them for “solidarity.” I refused. They beat me, then cut that off as a reminder not to be a “race traitor.” And none of that accounts for the casual racism and hate from the “polite aspects” of society. A police force that doesn’t care unless the public outside knows about it, along with no pros to look after my people when this country offered “sanctuary” to us, so yes, Teacher,” she said in Japanese this time, but without the implication of respect. “I have.”

With great effort, Katsuki kept himself under control as Park went through her litany of injuries and injustices. She was no older than Katsumi or the others, but in terms of life experience, may as well have already been an adult Pro-Hero for all the horrors she had seen. No wonder she was so ready to strike out during simple training exercises. The school of hard knocks had nothing on her.

It made his blood boil. Kids should get to be kids, not have to worry about gangs and their neighbors threatening their lives and bodies. He knew that things had improved some in the last few years, but the Hero Public Safety Commission was still playing a light hand with making inroads to minority neighborhoods. The really good Heroes went wherever they were needed, but they still played it light with actual Agencies. That this shit was still happening and no one was really doing anything about it..!

“You got dealt a shit hand,” he growled. “A kid, no, a woman your age, shouldn’t have had to deal with any of that. But you survived and showed them you’re tougher than anybody who tried to kick you down.”

He gestured around, broadly. “Most of the kids here, they grew up with pretty cushy lives.” He thought of Katsumi, when Eijiro had been beaten within an inch of his life. Of Sato and his kid, when they’d lost his wife. Of Izumi’s infected with a debilitating influence as a means to hurt her grandfather. Of the small, but still somehow too great a number of close calls, when Villains had tried to cross lines and come after their families. Of the myriad others who had to worry about whether or not mom or dad was coming home.

“Not always easy. And not without their own tragedies. But you’re operating from a whole different perspective. Not one they’d understand easily, and not one you’re obligated to explain to them.”

Katsuki continued. “I was an angry kid too. Ready to take on anything and everything that pissed me off. I had legitimate issues that were driving my anger. But I didn’t have real reasons for being angry. I invented them, lies I told myself about why it was okay to be so anger. But you, you have real reasons. And don’t let people tell you otherwise.”

He looked her straight in the eye. “But you’ve got to use that anger. Direct it at the right people. And the people at this camp aren’t it. Everybody’s here to get better. Everybody’s here because they want to be a Hero and help people.” He frowned. “And yeah, my kid was ready to pick a fight with your classmate. Or you. She knows she screwed up.”

It was a good thing he couldn’t share the details of this conversation with Katsumi. She’d have been pissed at him for admitting that, even if it was the truth. Or at least, an approximation of it. She knew it was a bad decision. Whether or not she’d internalized it as a screw up was a different question.

“I can’t change what happened to you, personally, or to your people or neighborhood. My job’s to help put you on the best path to being a Hero. And I can’t do that if you’re treating your fellow students or instructors like they’re the enemy.”

He’d managed to get through that without yelling once. Impressive. Maybe he was getting soft in his old age

She hadn’t gone to put her sock back on. Instead she’d listened to all of what he had to say. It was obvious she’d been expecting a variety of directions for this conversation to go: an angry lecture, threats, self-righteous condemnation, head-in-the-dirt denial, but hadn’t been prepared for acceptance or validation. Especially given his reputation for a short fuse and quick judgements. She’d paid attention to all of it, but had made no movements, nods, or sounds to indicate her stance.

When he finished, Park was quiet for a long time. Unknowingly she had begun to hold her cross in her hand, a thumb rubbing across the metal.

“I..I know, but..it’s so hard.” There was the tiniest of breaks in her voice, but she composed herself. She reached down to put her sock back on, probably distract herself from her conflicting feelings. “I’m used to seeing enemies on all sides.”

“It is,” he agreed. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Walking around with all that anger, even with plenty of therapy, it’s something I deal with every damn day. It’s something I’ve got to constantly be aware of, be on guard against. I find healthy outlets. Or, at least, mostly healthy ones.”

He thought back to some of the conversations he’d had with Eijiro over the years, questioning whether he was a good enough person to deserve love and family. Of long talks with Izuku, about all the wrongs he’d done to him. Of the making amends part of his therapy and the long time he’d spent grappling with realizing he’d been chasing after a goal without ever truly understanding what it meant.

“There’s days I don’t do that good of a job,” he said, finally. “The internet’s full of clips from times I lost it. But I don’t stop trying.”

Park had long since put her sock and shoe back on and was once more listening. She had resumed fiddling with her cross, but not quite as frantically as before.

“Outlets.” She spoke the word with a familiarity that indicated she had heard it multiple times before now. “My parents have tried to find such things for me. A friend of my father’s instructed me in Yongmudo since I was small. Such things have been known to instill discipline, peace of mind, and perhaps even an “outlet.” In truth it just gave me a means to start fighting back. I “want” peace, Teacher, but to strike at those who wronged you...feels very good.” She squeezed the cross, hard enough that he saw her knuckles turn white. She chuckled bitterly. “Probably what drew them to me to begin with.”

“Them?” he asked, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. Was someone using Park? It only took him a few seconds to connect the dots. He may have been a brawler at heart, but not for nothing did he have an investigative record second only to Tintin’s. “The Commission. Dammit, I thought Hawks had all those programs shut down!”

Park gave him a confused look. “I’m not sure what you mean, but yes, your Hero Commission. I had been rounded up more than once by police for getting in fights with local thugs, but nothing on my record. So I thought anyway. One day a Japanese man in a suit knocks on our door and asks to speak with me. He knows who I am, apparently from the police, and asks me “How would you like to take them down legally?”

She sighed, crossing her arms. “Of course I knew these were the bastards who left us without Heroes to protect us. The same ones who unleashed Ignition on Chinese civilians. All the same, they were also the only ones who could arrange Pro protection in the future. I love my family, my community...if it meant working with them, then I would do it. Our neighborhood is poor, purposely nondescript, no way for the big schools to notice. So they arranged for my name to end up on Shiketsu’s radar.”

She shook her head, a rue smile actually crossing her lips. She said some words in Korean, caught herself, then said, “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I’ve only ever told my parents and Chie.”

“It must be my winning bedside manner,” he said, putting on a small smile of his own. He was still going to give that bird-brained Deputy Commissioner a piece of his mind, even if the programs didn’t sound quite the same. It was still predatory as hell.

“But that’s a good goal,” he said. “Sounds like you’re doing it for the right reasons.” Maybe a little revenge, but it still sounded to his ears like she wanted to help, to make a difference, more than she wanted to hurt. She was sticking up for people who didn’t have anyone else. Izuku’d like that. “So I’ll cut you a deal… You’ve got my permission to walk away from anything here, anytime you get too mad to function. But in exchange, you’ve got to talk to somebody after, and you’ve got to stop trying to beat the stuffing out of my students.”

Park looked visibly shocked, the first time her usual composure had completely cracked. She was clearly not used to Japanese people in authority being on her side. For the first time since the conversation had started, she finally seemed to show her age.

“Teacher,” she stops, realizing she was using Korean phrasing. “Sanada Sensei in Shiketsu has actually been trying to get me to see their counselor. I have refused every time.” She seemed to think for a moment. “Maybe I should reconsider that.”

At the mention of beating up his students, she closes her eyes. They seem to vibrate a bit, closing them had been a means of hiding intense emotions. A hand squeezed her cross tightly. There was the very smallest hint of wetness to her eyes, but it was brief. Park opened her eyes again.

“I can do that.”

***

Isamu gulped, not for the first time. Aizawa-sensei made him nervous on a good day, when he was just being his usual brooding self at Class 1-A. He made him even more nervous when he was giving him direct attention, like what was happening now. Like several other students, he’d been pulled aside for one-on-one, individualized or small group training.

“You’re getting good with your Quirk,” Aizawa said, flatly. “Your father must have taught you well.” Was it just his imagination or was there a little more warmth in his voice when he said that?

“As best he could, Sensei,” Isamu said quickly. “Though he never got good enough with it for Hero work.” Why would he say that?!

Aizawa gave him a flat look, one eyebrow slightly raised. “You really want to dance around this, kid? I know you know that I know. Maybe not everything, but enough. Your parents were pains in my ass, but they did good work. Especially the Sky Egg.”

This wasn’t a surprise. But it was a surprise to be talking about it so openly. Sure, he was the kid of a couple of Vigilantes, not Heroes like just about everyone else here. And sure, Aizawa had worked with his parents multiple times, as had Midnight. So it wasn’t like he really thought he was hiding anything. At least not from them. Deku had figured it out too. And there were probably more people he hadn’t figured out. But he hadn’t told any of his friends. He trusted them, didn’t think it would come back to bite him in the ass. It was just… something known but not talked about.

“Ah, thank you, Sensei.” That seemed like the proper response. And he didn’t even incur another round of foot in mouth disease. “I’ll tell him you said that.”

Aizawa gave him a look. “You’ll do no such thing.”

Isamu gulped.

“All of which means I’ve got a pretty good idea of what your Quirk’s capable of,” Aizawa went on. “Yours is like his. Almost identical, but subtly different if you know what you’re looking for. I’m surprised Deku didn’t figure it out, honestly. But since you think you’ve got an identical Quirk, you’re limiting yourself. He figured out ways to use his propulsion offensively and even for short bursts to launch himself, but you’ve already mastered all those tricks. I’ve even see you firing repulsion blasts without having to brace yourself. You don’t actually need three points of contact. And I’ve seen you launch yourself during training too and steer yourself once you’re in the air. So I want you to try something.”

There was, perhaps, a slightly maniac look in his teacher’s eyes. “You’re going to fly.”

Isamu gulped yet again and his eyes went wide. “Sensei?” He definitely couldn’t fly. He could use a repulsion burst to launch himself and steer a little in the air, even keep himself from too bad of a landing, but he definitely couldn’t fly. Could he?

Dad has said that he’d been able to slide through the air as a baby. He’d even been able to recover something like it with boosts through the air. But that was really just not falling, not flying. Wasn’t it?

He managed a nod. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll try it. What do I need to do?”

“Unfortunately,” Aizawa said, “I’m not allowed to just push you off the roof of the compound. Sink or swim tactics work wonders.”

That was a joke, right? He had to be joking about that! Someone tell him Aizawa was joking!

His teacher’s expression betrayed no hint of emotion. “So instead, what I want you to do is concentrate your power on pushing against the ground under your feet and the air under your hands. You’ll need steady output from all four limbs to control it.”

Right. He could do that. He could do that. He could probably do that. He could possibly do that.

He took a deep breath and concentrated on his Quirk. Just like when he was sliding along. Energy out from his feet, energy out from his hands. Steady, smooth, power.

Nope! Not steady! Too much power flared from his feet and launched him into the air. Cursed laws of physics! Isamu cut his Quirk, but it was like trying to stop a bullet after it had already left the gun. His arms and legs flailed uselessly as he launched skyward, until gravity began to reassert itself and drag him back down. Aizawa wouldn’t just let him go splat, would he?

Boy, was that a stupid question.

So he had to save himself!

He scrunched up his eyes and concentrated on his Quirk again. Steady, consistent, power.

Isamu felt the energy flow from all his limbs again, the pressure fairly equal. Quickly, he realized he wasn’t falling. His eyes snapped open. His was only a few feet off the ground, but he was holding himself up in the air, unsteadily. Trails of blue-white energy from all his limbs filled the air. He kept his hands pointed carefully down, using them for stabilizing bursts while his feet provided the thrust.

“Whoa!” It was extremely unsteady. His head was already beginning to hurt from concentrating so hard. But he was doing it!

And just as easily as it had come about, his concentration wavered and his power faded. He hit the ground with a soft thump, landing on his butt. Isamu looked up to see Aizawa standing over him, offering a hand up, but also smirking knowingly. Isamu took it.

“Good,” Aizawa said. “Keep practicing that. I’ll send Ground Zero over later if you’re still having trouble. His explosive-powered flight is similar.”

He needed to get very good. Immediately.

And he really needed a conversation with his friends.

***

Kimiko was fuming. Lunch had ended and they hadn’t even been able to begin the big shipping operation! Even worse, it was entirely possible they wouldn’t get to do it at all! She hadn’t been able to tell what anyone was saying, but it sure looked like Koda and Aoyama had had a major heart-to-heart. And since it hadn’t ended with any slaps or either of them walking away in tears, it was probably good news!

Which was, in and of itself, a good thing. Koda definitely deserved all the happiness in the world. She was probably the sweetest person that Kimiko knew. And Aoyama was… not exactly a friend, but someone she was definitely friendly with. Even if he didn’t particularly like Takuma, he was good people under the fancy-pants attitude. Plus he loved listening to gossip and always had the best dirt on foreign celebrities. If they got together, it was a good thing!

But she didn’t know! And since she didn’t have her phone, she couldn’t even share her speculation! There was major league gossip going on and not only couldn’t she share it, but she didn’t even know the full story!

What was the world coming to?!

So many of Class 1-A was dating now! Midoriya was dating Sora Iida, Takuma was dating Tensei Iida, Mineta was dating Yoarashi, Shoji had his girlfriend Shiryoku from the Business Course, Kaminari was apparently dating Monoma (What? What was the story there?! Why didn’t she know any details?!), Haimawari was dating Tetsutetsu, Koda and Aoyama were a maybe, and she was dating Kenta!

So that left… Kirishima-Bakugo, Kocho, Tokoyami, and Shinso, right? Todoroki wasn’t interested in romance or sex, her loss, but Kimiko could respect boundaries. Sometimes. And she wasn’t even sure what kind of people Shinso was interested in. He was only about six months younger than most of them, but he sometimes seemed like a kid by comparison.

None of which was relevant to the task in front of her. Namely, personal medical training with the Metabolic Hero: Bioshock!

“Eri, ah, Doc Clock, sent me over files on everything she’s been teaching you,” Bioshock explained. “Including all the scores from your practice tests. She’s definitely proud of you.”

Kimiko felt a smile spread across her face. She’d actually really been applying herself to her medical studies. Schoolwork didn’t come easily to her, but this was definitely worth it.

“So, pop quiz,” Bioshock said. “Best way to treat a broken arm in the field?”

This one was easy. “If there’s bleeding, use a sterile dressing to stop it. If there’s no skin puncture, use my Quirk to assess the extent of the break. After either one, immobilize, construct a splint if possible. Once I’ve gotten them to safety, ice packs can help with the swelling.”

He nodded. “Good. And what’s the most important thing to keep an eye out for when doing search and rescue?”

She knew this one! “Structural stability and my own safety. Don’t want to make a problem worse and I can’t help anyone if I need someone to rescue me!”

Bioshock nodded again. “Good,” he said. “And where in the body would you find a squeedily spooch?”

Panic gripped Kimiko’s heart as she realized she didn’t know the answer to that. Squeedily spooch… squeedily spooch... what the heck was a squeedily spooch?!

She frowned as she realized he was struggling not to laugh. “Hey! That’s not fair!” Her arms waved wildly through the air as she voiced her displeasure. He was a teacher, so she couldn’t actually hit him like she would Kenta or Takuma, but… “There’s no such thing as a squeedily spooch! You can’t just make stuff up like that! What the heck is wrong with you?! WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO ME?!”

The Rookie held his composure for a moment longer, before breaking into laughter. “Sorry, sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t laugh, but I just wanted to see what you’d do… Which reminds me, actually, I’ve got a theory about your Quirk…”

He was cut off as a shrill alarm cut through the air. Bioshock’s face instantly went serious as he looked around.

“Perimeter breach! Perimeter breach!” An electronic voice sounded in the space between alarms.

“Come with me,” Bioshock said. He was clearly trying not to let his worry show. “I’ll get you to the compound…”

If I can was left unsaid.

***

The second the alarms went off, the Rookies and teachers leapt into action, with a speed that would have impressed just about any Hero, forming a defensive circle around the U.A. students. Uncle Kacchan set off small explosions on his palms, working himself up into the agitated state needed to sweat and use his power to its fullest. Aizawa unraveled his capture cloth and lifted his goggles to cover his eyes. Super-Ball dropped into a fighting stance, lightly bouncing on the balls of his feet, his rubberized features set into grim determination.

Ravenous unleashed several of his Binging Balls, the chomping spheroids floating about him like small planets orbiting the sun. Small puffs of thrust flared from Boost-Rush’s arm pipes. Bezoar dropped to all fours, his canon emerging from his mouth as he swept the tree line. Aunt Mahoro pulled a small metal cylinder from her belt, which expanded into a staff.

Aunt Mahoro looked back, as though wanted to assure them that it was going to be okay. She waved a hand in their direction and the world went a hazy green. She had to have cast some kind of illusion over the twenty-odd students, probably making the training field look like they weren’t there at all. Most of them had been on the main grounds, working on their Quirks. The Shiketsu students, Ojiro, and about a dozen others had been elsewhere on the grounds, receiving their own training.

“We’ll stop or hold off whatever it is,” Toshi heard Aizawa say. Was he imaging it, or was his teacher’s voice shaking? “You’ve all got full permission to use your Quirks to escape or fight off anything that tries to stop that escape. The other Rookies are either on their way or protecting your classmates.

As it was, Toshi felt his heart racing in his chest. A quick glance around revealed a sharp divide in reactions. Some, like Kocho, along with members of Class 1-B like the bat-like Koumori and Kaniyashiki looked worried, but not overly frightened. They probably even wondered if this was just a test or one of Aizawa’s famous “logical ruses.” It was absolutely a reasonable reaction to the presence of danger. But they were all also Hero-students, quickly pushing past it to at least take up basic defensive stances, some of them calling up their Quirks.

The kids who had Hero parents reacted differently. There was fear first. They’d all been told the stories of what had happened during their parents’ first training camp. The injuries. The kidnapping. The fact that the League of Villains had nearly killed so many of them. Would have killed so many of them, if not for a lot of luck. Haimawari too, was reacting similarly. His experiences between the Internship and the incident on I-Island had stirred up a great deal of courage in his friend, but also shown him how bad things could get very quickly.

This was supposed to have been a safe place. The world was supposed to have been a safer place. The worst Villains had been faced and defeated. And yes, it still needed Heroes, still needed people to stand up and say “I am here!” in the fight against evil. But the past was not supposed to repeat like this.

Their parents had fought hard so that their lives would not be as filled with trauma.

Already, the Nomu incident has put a lie to that. Was it becoming even more of one? Some of them had been tested in that, scarred, made afraid. Some of them had been spared, aware of the terror but not a part of it.

The fears of the past rose up to claim them.

But beneath the fear was grim determination. Katsumi was already scowling, putting herself in front of Izumi. Asuka had deployed Frog-Shadow and she and Haimawari had both put themselves around Shota. The Twins looked ready to take off at a moment’s notice. Tetsutetsu had transformed her arms to metal. One by one, everyone was activating their Quirks. Even Kocho was extending her wings.

“I don’t need you to protect me, dammit!” Kaminari snapped, pushing Monoma so that she was standing shoulder to shoulder with him, instead of behind him.

Monoma himself looked very pale. If Toshi didn’t know better, he’d swear the other boy was shaking. He didn’t have any of his support items with him, Toshi realized. “I.. I was just trying to…”

“Look,” Kaminari said. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m a big girl.”

If ever there was a sign of how seriously his classmates were taking this, it was that Mineta did not make a joke about Kaminari’s statement. Even Sero was quiet. This was deadly serious.

“Do you think we are really under attack, Toshi?” Sora asked.

“Quit yapping, all of you!” Katsumi snapped, before he could answer. Toshi recognized her body language. Feet planted, knees slightly bent, arms out, fists clenched. She was spoiling for a fight. That was Katsumi all over. Always spoiling for a fight. After the beating she’d taken, he suspected she was looking for a target even more than usual. He hoped and prayed that she had the good sense to recognize the odds were very good they were outmatched.

“This is bad,” Fukidashi whispered. The animated girl’s face had gone blue and covered with hashlines. “The background music’s getting really scary!”

***

For just a moment, Katsuki was fifteen again. An arrogant, hot-headed kid with too much rage and an inferiority-superiority complex he won’t even begin to really unpack until he’s failed his Provisional License Exam, and won’t have finished unpacking until… Well, it’s a work in progress. But he’s back there, more than twenty-five years ago, thinking that Villains—murderers like Muscular and Dabi, master criminals like Mister Compress, deathrow inmates like Moonfish—don’t stand a chance against his barely trained ass.

He was wrong. So wrong. He was captured, perceived as a Villain, with All Might unable to properly fight because he was there. And then he had to live with the shame of having to be rescued. Of knowing that Izuku would stage a rescue for him, when he definitely wouldn’t have done the same. He’d have let those Villains have the “worthless Deku.”

The knowledge of how much of a shit child he was still fills him with shame.

But here and now, even broken and bowed, he will not allow the same thing to happen to his daughter and her classmates. He’d be cold and dead before he allowed that to happen.

“Just heard from the others,” Mahoro said. “Sandblast and Locksmith are with the Shiketsu students. Petal Princess and Lady Luminous are with the other students, and my brother and his student are hooking up with them. Everyone’s accounted for.”

Boost-Rush tapped the side of his helmet. “Getting data from the security feed…whatever it is, it’s coming up on us. It’s managed to evade or disable our entire security system.”

“Any chance it’s a false alarm?” Fujii asked. The rubberized Hero wasn’t joking. It was a genuine statement. “Nobody should know the students are here.”

“No one was supposed to know the first time either,” Aizawa snapped. “Don’t let your guard down.” Bakugo had to give the hobo credit. Even in his mid-fifties, he still looked more than ready to kick anyone’s ass who trifled with his “kids.”

“Not a chance,” Mahoro said. “Hatsume and Shield designed all of it. But if it’s not an attack on them, it’s an attack on us Rookies.”

Either way, it wasn’t good.

There was a rustling in the grass of the tree line and suddenly, something emerged. At first, he didn’t see anything, until he looked down.

“What the fuck?”

It was a… dog? A Shiba Inu, if he was any judge.

“What the fuck?”

Not just a dog, he realized. A dog wearing clothes. It had on a dog-version of a Shiketsu uniform, complete with a peaked cap that its ears were poking through, and a backpack.

“What the fuck?”

The dog looked around and seemed to smile. There was a strange, human intelligence to his eyes. Eyes that finally fell on Bakugo, the other teachers, and the Rookies.

“Hi!” the dog said. “I’m Hachi Inuzaki from Shiketsu! Sorry I missed the bus! It took me forever to get here!”

Katsuki felt like someone had just punched him in the face. Aizawa, Fujii, and the Rookies were equally dumbfounded.

“What,” he said, “and I cannot stress this enough, the fuck?”

#my hero academia #their hero academia #katsuki bakugo #toshi midoriya #kimiko ojiro #mahoro shimano #katsuma shimano #fan fiction #fan fic #my writing

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wadjaya · 3 years

Text

He was awoken with a solid thwap to the back of his head, his eyes registering the bright lights in front of him as they opened in alarm. His legs were still sore from his encounter the day before, or was it two days ago now? As his eyes adjusted to the lights shining in his face, he recognized a few figures standing around him. Ahead, seated at a functional desk at the end of the room, Lucien Cote. The man didn’t seem to notice his prisoner being roused, instead eyeing what appeared to be some sort of revolver mechanism like you’d see in a gun.

To his right, a larger woman stood with arms crossed. Beyond her own frame, there were bits and pieces of what appeared to be bones orbiting at varying distances around her. Zara, the mean one.

To his left, a thinner frame leaning up against the wall. He couldn’t make out the details of her face, but her eyes caught his attention for seeming to glow in the relative dimness of the room beyond his lights.

(CW for torture, potentially upsetting implication of trafficking, sexual assault, drugs, guns, the stuff you’d expect from mafia themes)

“Oh look, he’s finally awake. Nice call, Zara.” The figure he didn’t recognize stepped forward as she spoke, inspecting him it seemed. Her glowing eyes reminded him of a cat’s as she came closer, and he almost thought he could make out traces of feline fur where the light ran across her face. He counted himself as fairly informed, but who exactly was this chick? Has Cote been recruiting? He looked back down to the floor and spit.

He felt a weird gap in his teeth, but no obvious blood hit the floor. Healed.

“And, uh, to what do I owe the pleasure?” The man’s voice was gravelly against his throat, just another sign that he had been hit pretty hard leading into this experience. “I don’t believe I have any dealings with the Cote family.”

“No dealings,” the stranger began. She finished examining him and stepped toward the desk at the back. She held her hand out before reaching the desk, to which the seated man nodded as she stepped forward to pick up a roll of paper. “But you did have something that belongs to us, and we’d like to know why you took it.” She walked back, turning one of the lights just a bit off his face to encourage him to meet her.

He remained silent, but glanced up toward her. He felt something sharp prod his spine, though no one else had moved. Zara’s bones, perhaps? Glancing toward the small swarm orbiting the figure in question, it was impossible to tell if they were all accounted for. Another prodding came, but this time harsher. He gasped and bit into his lip to keep from crying out.

“Well?” The thinner woman stepped forward again, holding the rolled document as though to refresh his memory. “What does the Covenant want with this design? Why send you, alone, to try and steal it?” The man didn’t stop biting his lip, so she continued.

“If you don’t cooperate with us, we can and will kill many of the people you care about. From what I’ve been made to learn about your ‘Family,’” she paused, looking toward the other woman for confirmation and continuing when she received a nod. “We’ve learned that most of you are hurting in that area. But your anonymous shtick ends when we’ve got you in chains. Whatever you do or don’t tell us, we can find however few you’ve got left. We can do to them what we’re doing to you- and no one can stop us. So tell me-”

The woman raised her leg to kick just below his sternum, placed so that nothing could break but it would all be felt- an expert, probably. He coughed and groaned, the sharp burr in his back ever-present with the small convulsions. He responded.

“We are the Covenant. We have no bonds from our past lives, we have no loyalties to anyone but those of us spurned. Our blood is thicker than any other bond. We will not answer your questions.”

“Covenant, eh? That’s a weird way to spell,” The woman paused as she unrolled the document and peered through it a moment. “Samuel Whittaker, son of Eilene and Matthew Whittaker. Brother to Marissa Townley and Brandon Whittaker. Three-time silver medalist for your middle school’s track competition. Very impressive.” She cast the paper aside, clearly unconcerned with anything else that might be written on it.

Good, he called the bluff then. They hadn’t found the document he stole. There’s a small, triumphant grin under the circumstances.

“You can threaten them all you want, they’re nothing to me. Those that still live, anyway.”

“Oh? And what about Marcus Brown, then?”

His breath hitched, his pulse quickened. How could they even know about Marcus? He had already taken the Covenant, they’d never met without their masks- not in public! His eyes darted to the man at his desk, seemingly now watching the proceedings ahead of him as a faint, reddish aura swam from around his shoulders to the items at his table. His eyes glowed, now, in the dark- a devilish gaze with his heavy magical exertion.

“So, it seems you do have names. We did some checking around, made some friends in your little outfit. Tight-lipped bunch, y’all are. It’s too bad, then, that Marcus hasn’t been especially loyal to you.” The woman kneeled down to force his gaze to meet hers, raising his face so he could not avert it. Samuel swallowed and forced his breathing to settle.

“We don’t know ‘Marcus.’ We are only the Covenant. I was given the designation ‘Jackson’ upon accepting my last task, and that is the only name I call my own.”

“Ah, right, you all and your morbid codenames. Let me guess, Jackson was one of those idiots we caught the last time you tried an assault on our businesses?” He bit his lip again, narrowing his eyes with the effort of holding his emotions back. God, how wonderful it’d be to lose a few hundred bucks to Jackson, again.

“We lost several of those who’d taken the Covenant in that….unfortunate misunderstanding.” Even as he said it, Samuel could feel himself cringe.

Not Samuel. Just me. “But our losses were only small sacrifices in the interest of the greater good. Between that misunderstanding and this one, it seems we’ve come upon something we want.”

Zara stepped forward, the orbit of bones shifting as a line of them began to form between her and him, several breaking off to float threateningly near his hands, throat, lower back. All at once, several points of searing pain erupted and he groaned with the force of it all.

“Tell us what we want to know, Faceless. Why take the blueprint? What do you even want it for?! Tell us, and we might be convinced to deal with you peacefully, even let you live.” Zara paused as she looked back to Lucien, who did not seem to react. “There is always a value to be put upon our goods.”

The man looked away from the woman threatening to gore him upon her own dismembered bones, the unnamed feline character who’d done most of the talking, and Lucien Cote himself. That blood red gaze seemed to cock sideways with piqued curiosity.

“You really don’t know? All that intel about my former self, but you couldn’t find out about the current operation?” The painful burrs at his lower back sharpened as he felt his own flesh part around them, pressing deeper into his body with an apparent lack of weight or force. How sharp are these things?!

“Answer the question,” came the rather non-encouraging demand from Zara.

“Unfortunately, while Marcus was very talkative about his ‘ex,’ he was less forthcoming about his designation and orders. If it would please you to know, he has been put to rest.” The thinner figure rested her back against the wall to his left again, lightly bouncing on her feet. Bored?

Interesting interrogation methods, though. Good cop, Bad cop sure- but she was offering a lot more ‘carrot’ than Samuel- ‘He-’ he was used to.

“Why do you care?” He finally asked.

He felt the thorns threaten to move again, the slightest shift as they were ‘unlocked’ from their resting position, but no pain came. Glancing up, he noticed Zara looking, agape, toward Lucien, who had lifted a hand. The glow in his eyes dimmed as he pushed his seat back, standing up and stepping around to personally view their prisoner a bit closer.

Lucien Cote was normally a rather unassuming man, perhaps a little scary to look at with his hardened gaze and obvious strong hands. Here, however, there was an absolutely terrifying presence to the man- the glare of a man who felt he had just lost everything to a bad cheat.

He glanced left, right, and the girls stepped back without a moment’s hesitation. There was bittersweet pain, followed by relief as the bones pulled themselves from his flesh with a soft groan.

There’s a pregnant silence as he looks Samuel over, eyes darting about his wounds and face as though judging for some sort of pet show. He was about to speak up when Lucien’s mouth opened. And he whispered, though his voice carried as though he was shouting.

“Why wouldn’t I care?”

The voice, soft and gentle, felt forceful. As though by whispering instead of screaming he was holding back instinct by sheer force of will.

“I- I mean, it’s just a gun. Not even any mutanium in it, nothin’ for us in it if there was.” He swallowed as he caught his mouth feeling uncomfortably dry. “Just a pea-shooter, really. But subtle. Cote’s never dealt in subtle, right?”

“Just a gun?!” Lucien shouted, and Samuel felt as though he’d just been placed in front of the blasting end of a jet engine. It wasn’t so bad that his flesh hurt, but his ears were ringing when the silence fell in the echoey basement. When Lucien spoke again, it was again at a whisper. “What you stole is not irreplaceable, perhaps not even particularly valuable to scum like you. But to me--” Lucien stopped himself as his face tightened, a vicious glare pointed to his captive before turning and nodding to the strange woman and proceeding back toward his desk.

The woman pulled something from her ears- ear plugs?- and stepped forward as Lucien leaned against the back of his desk, crossing his arms with displeasure. Once more, his eyes began to glow as that red aura surrounded his shoulders.

“Er, well, Lucien Cote is very protective of his intellectual property- as you know. While this particular gun design may not be….catastrophic, it sets a precedent we don’t particularly like. That the Cote Family can be fucked with, his designs stolen. We’d like to-” with a glance toward Zara, the larger woman sent a few more bones his way. She hardly so much as tensed any muscle that he could see to do so- kind of marvelous to be honest. He felt a drip of warm liquid on top of his head, never needing to even look up to know some of the bones were dripping with his own blood. “We’d like to fix that little notion, and let everyone go their own ways. And if that can’t be arranged, we will find out why you wanted that specific design.”

The prisoner looked between his captors once again, taking the pause in their ‘conversation’ to consider the opportunity costs implied in what they wanted. Samuel would be killed for leaking the Covenant’s plans, even to an organization which was likely to support it. If he did that, he’d need a ticket out of this god-forsaken city. Alternatively, he’d spend the rest of his short life in this room, probably. He thought about what even awaited him out there- and almost couldn’t think of anything worthwhile to him.

Brandon would miss him at the next festival, and so would his mother.

It’s not like Samuel would even be needed in the plan going forward. Medici would fall. He had played his part.

Cote couldn’t stop it- not short of vaporizing all of them, and all innocents. He sighed, and noticed everyone else straighten up a bit as they watched his resolve break.

Samuel looked directly to Lucien Cote- the man he had stolen from and ordered his capture. The man’s eyes were fading from a heavy fog of crimson, back to being hardly visible in the dimness of the room.

“The Covenant plans to fulfill our oaths. To destroy the organization which broke us.” He watched the three of them glance between themselves, entire thoughts being broadcast between the group without any words.

“Historically,” the stranger began, stepping forward once again to kneel at eye-level with Samuel, “the Covenant has been especially aggressive with the Medici Family. Is that who you mean? The organization that broke you?”

Samuel never met her gaze, speaking as though directly to the boss man himself. If he was serving himself up on a silver platter, he’d at least do it with a little pride.

“We swore blood oath to bring down the Medici Family, the family which took many of us from the safety of our own homes and introduced us to their menagerie in hell. They made animals of us, so we swore to rampage through their establishment as beasts.

Anthony Medici will bleed before his time, and with him anyone who could even lust for his estate.”

Samuel remembered his time under the Medicis’ watch as he spoke of the generational hatred the Covenant all held for him. As he went on his voice grew louder, more confident, daring them to argue with his personal hatred. The personal hatred baked in from every single person who’d taken the oath, joined the Covenant. He recalled the cages, the drugs, how he had been ‘rented’ to the lowest scum with money.

“We all hate the Medici, for what they did to us. We will see them eliminated, no matter the cost.”

Uncertain gazes joined his fanatical smile in looking toward Lucien, who kept his eyes locked on the prisoner. After a long silence, the man allowed his soft voice to reverberate painfully about the room at a seemingly normal speaking volume.

“Where is the document you stole?”

“If it’s been as long as I think it has, long gone. I dropped it in the postbox on West Chicago and North Wells. It was to be recovered the morning after.”

Lucien slammed a fist against his desk, an obviously painful thud. The women to either side began plugging their ears in the brief moment of pause before Lucien stood again.

“You Covenant have been a thorn in all of our sides for decades. You fools dabble in interfamily politics that keep this city under control- only to play vigilante and get under our skin! You threaten to disrupt the balance.”

“Balance means nothing if people like them benefit from it! We would see the city in anarchy if it meant protecting those they would hurt!!” His protest fell upon deaf ears- including his own as the ringing overpowered his own voice. He hoped he sounded as confident as he felt. “There isn’t a hell man could imagine that is worse than what Medici does to some of its animals!”

Lucien stood, collecting the few items he had taken in here with his unhurt hand, and nodded to the women. From the way the two looked between the men, they hadn’t likely seen the man so angry in a very long time.

They looked to him again, his breathing ragged as his last hope of getting out of this seemed to fall apart. The stranger nodded to Zara, and he called out.

“Wait! I know her, and I know him.” He nodded toward Zara and Lucien. “But if I’m going to die anyway, who are you? It’s been bothering me since I woke up.” His fanatical gaze fell onto the stranger, someone so elite amidst Cote but so unknown.

“Oh, honey.” There was a satisfied smirk on her face as she checked the placement of her earplugs. She stood, stepping between Samuel and her boss. He watched her reach behind herself, pulling a small handgun from the waistband of her slacks. Deftly switching off the safety without so much as a thought as the weapon never once leaves its target upon its reveal. Him.

“If Lucien pulls the trigger, then I suppose you could say I’m like the Hammer.” As she said so, she mimed the motion of pulling an imaginary hammer back on her firearm, though that was clearly just to punctuate her point. “But this little gun has a name, y’know? Since you die with it anyway, I’m Eliana. Sorry about this.”

She offered a sympathetic smile. He heard the loud boom, saw the muzzle flash as she pulled the trigger. He imagined a hammer hitting the back of the weapon.

And then, nothing.

#therabloggin #evoearth #eliana fenwick #lucien cote #zara volkov #oc #dako writes

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bloody-oath · 4 years

Note

What would go down at a slasher slumber party (slashers of your choosing, though selfishly hope you'll include Bubba, of course)? I'm thinkin' either a collage-age frat party, or else a childhood or awkward adolescent sleepover at somebody's house, lol. ^_^

I’ll do all three types! It would be a sin to leave Bubba out… When in doubt though, stick to the main four!

**Mild self-harm and animal abuse mentions (Stage 2: Freddy – 3, Stage 3: Jason – 3)**

Stage 1: Childhood Slumber Party

Jason Voorhees

⋆ Has been at the party for 0.5 seconds and already misses his mother. If he can speak, he accidentally calls the host’s parent ‘mum.’ Didn’t even notice it until Freddy felt it was his duty to almost piss his pants laughing over it and made sure everyone else in the room heard it too.

⋆ Enjoys playing with Bubba the most. Shares his snacks with the Texan boy and makes an E for effort macaroni-and-string best friends bracelet. He was somewhat disappointed when Bubba ate his friendship offering though. Demotes his companion to ‘very good friend’ status.

⋆ Brought teddy along but only takes him out when the lights are turned off at bedtime, so no one notices. Sleeps soundly, but he’s devasted when he wakes up to find his pal’s fur shredded. Doesn’t hesitate to wail on a suddenly disturbed, half-awake, arms-flailing Frederick, all the while Michael pretends to rest with the tiniest visibility of a smirk present and a stolen vegetable knife under his pillow.

Michael Myers

⋆ Possesses the biggest urge to peek into the rooms he’s not allowed into, such as the off-bounds adult bedroom. Will randomly disappear during mid-playtime and sneak in anyway though. Doesn’t steal anything, just removes family photos from frames and rips them in half.

⋆ Likes to play dress up. Doesn’t pretend to be a character or act differently. Simply enjoys disguising his identity. Will stay in the costume until it’s time to go home. Might go home with it too though. Chooses not to interact with the others much. Silently judges them. Thinks Freddy is a bit of a twat.

⋆ Pays close attention when the twat starts sharing ghost stories though. Loves them, not frightened. Plans to scare everyone when it’s time for bed. Does so and makes a scared shitless Bubba cry. Didn’t expect such an exaggerated consequence but enjoys seeing him suffer. Has good dreams that night.

Freddy Krueger

⋆ He didn’t bring a toy to the party, but like hell he’ll be leaving without one. Keeps an eye out for anything good enough to permanently borrow. Stuffs his pockets with sweets to take home since junk food is forbidden at his house.

⋆ Cheats at every game he participates in. Asks everyone to tell him a secret about themselves but no one trusts him. Experiences a serious sugar high and becomes wildly fidgety. Challenges Bubba to a wrestling match and begins to lose until he plays dirty and bites his opponent. Whines when he gets sat on for his dismal sportsmanship.

⋆ Was outside and somehow managed to catch a rat with his bare hands. Breaks the critter’s neck and brings the dead rodent inside to show his buddies what he accomplished. Everyone reacts badly, except Michael who nonchalantly claps, impressed.

Bubba Sawyer

⋆ Takes him a while to feel comfortable around the others. Has a particular liking for Jason and asks the quiet boy if he’d like to play Tick-Tack-Tooth. Isn’t sure about Michael and watches him from a distance. Has already had enough of Freddy and covertly hopes he has a hazardous mishap and needs to be sent home.

⋆ Relishes having a break from his annoying brothers. Gains a huge stomach-ache from wolfing down on too many lollies. Spends the next hour groaning on his back with much regret. Pouts at the menace for suggesting the others should tie him up and suspend him in the air as a makeshift piñata. Goes back to munching on confectionary as soon as he begins to feel better. Might learn his lesson after the fourth time.

⋆ Excels in the arts and crafts fun. Creates masks for everyone to wear. Can’t wait to show his family what he’s made all by himself. Especially adores using the face paint. Clumsily knocks over a pot of dye and damages the carpet. Freaks the fuck out because he knows what happens if he ruins anything at home. Squints, trembles and braces himself for the belting. Everyone else just stares.

Stage 2: Awkward Adolescent Sleepover

Jason Voorhees

⋆ Still misses his mother and feels even less confident to socialise. Was the tallest as a kid and still is. Feels marginally proud to retain that achievement. Didn’t want to run into Freddy again but he’s glad he can at least hang out with Bubba. Wondered who was behind the white mask and later realised it was ‘that kid’ he knew from childhood. Forgot Michael’s name.

⋆ Brought some homemade cookies he and Pamela baked together and could honestly smack a shrimp bitch when Freddy disposes of them in the bin. Coolly composes himself. Kind of wants to exhibit his amateur muscles and use his superior strength on the asshole though. Shows Bubba he’s been building up and behaves timidly when his old chum praises him for his efforts.

⋆ Glad no one tried to sneak in any intoxicating beverages or street medicine. Wonders if he’s being too optimistic but genuinely sees his allies having bright futures. Moderately worried about that Michael boy though. Spends the rest of the evening following everyone else’s lead. Got a headache after listening to Freddy talk so much shit and can’t sleep with Bubba snoring like a freight train.

Michael Myers

⋆ Hates being dragged along to another wretched sleepover. Noticed Freddy grew about an inch taller. Throws shade the entire time. Tries to escape the premises but changes his mind when he hears a scary movie being played in the video player. Thoroughly enjoys watching the violent scenes and mentally takes a few notes.

⋆ Teaches the squad how to make a rope noose. Encourages everyone to put it around their necks to make sure they fit. Isn’t being suspicious at all. Brought his knife collection to the gathering and flaunts his favourite daggers. Points out which blades he’s specifically going to use to slaughter each one of them. No one takes him seriously.

⋆ Figures this reunion really does suck and makes a second attempt to leg it out. Couldn’t care less about catching up, hearing how their dreary lives have been or chatting about gross women. Literally gives everyone the middle finger salute and departs. Raids a fast food joint on his way home.

Freddy Krueger

⋆ Wants to compare dick sizes with everyone else. Feels humiliated and provoked when he finds out he has the shortest penis. Swears he’ll be the first to lose his virginity though. Goes into great detail about what his sexual desires are and the porn videos he’s seen that influenced the said fetishes.

⋆ His voice begins to break halfway through telling a joke and he goes from talking nonstop to suddenly being speechless. Wonders if tonight is going to get any worse. Exits the room to practice hiding the squeak when he speaks and re-joins the gang with an abnormal, obviously fake Elvis Presley tone.

⋆ Expresses how he has the urge to hurt himself and others, including the innocent. Says the cravings are becoming harder to resist to older he gets. Adds he’s been experiencing powerful fits of anger and battles to control it. No one acts surprised. Casually changes the subject to masturbation.

Bubba Sawyer

⋆ Found a vintage glamour magazine from Grandpa’s hidden stash and brings the subtly raunchy publication to the sleepover to share with the boys. Becomes aroused a little too easy just by examining the front cover and desperately tries to hide his first-ever erection. Confused and scared.

⋆ Gives a sigh of relief when he goes back to being flaccid. Apprehensively thinks of an excuse to say regarding why he took so long in the bathroom when he reappears in the group. Doesn’t have to use it because no one noticed he even left. Avoids partaking in any lewd discussions or naughty centrefold viewing. Fearful of that accident happening again.

⋆ Doesn’t waver to show off his newly grown body hair though. High-key delighted by his pelt. Compares his super hairy arms to Freddy’s non-existent fuzz and breaks into a chuckling fit. Feels a bit hurt when the shorty points out he’s only getting fatter and uglier though. Never deemed himself to have self-confidence issues until now. Appreciated Jason and Michael playing keepings-off with the bully’s stupid hat.

Stage 3: College Frat Party

Jason Voorhees

⋆ Avoids consuming any alcohol because he knows better. Also denies any offered drugs. Straight up shoved a hoe to the ground when they sloppily asked if he wanted to have some dirty fun. Hates how the party has started but tries to enjoy himself. Ends up hanging out with the stray cat who sometimes chills out on the fire escape.

⋆ Acts as a caretaker and monitors his highly intoxicated buddies. Openly judges them. Tries to have his own little celebration by eating the leftover pizza in the fridge and watching prime time infomercials on the telly. Began to loosen up until Freddy willingly broke the flatscreen and went on to say he can provide better entertainment. Not amused in the slightest by witnessing his frenemy lighting his farts on fire.

⋆ Needs an aspirin and exits the room to get some fresh air and visits his feline acquaintance again. Incredibly disturbed when he finds a hammered Bubba trying to stretch the cat’s skinned face over his own. Feels betrayed and just wants this night to end. Wonders what it would be like to taste alcohol though and pours a single drop of it onto his tongue. Immediately spits it out. Knows this wouldn’t have happened if his mother was here. Acts mopey and continues to miss her.

Michael Myers

⋆ Has no interest in alcohol consumption but doesn’t hesitate to inject heroin in his veins from a used needle he found discarded on the ground. Arrives at the festive dormitory and busts down the door. Extremely hyped and aggravated. Uses said broken wood to go surfing down the emergency exit spiral stairwell. Severely wipes out towards the end of the ride.

⋆ Wants to fight everyone he sees and proceeds to do so. Finally appears back at the party with bloodied fists and two syringes poking out of his arms. Becomes confronted by a worried, sober Jason and gets his ass served to a beanbag for calming down purposes. Thought the pouf looked at him funny and foam pellets go flying.

⋆ Passes out in a bathtub full of vomit, not of his own, and wakes up hours later naked on the roof with now seven needles inserted. Can’t decide if he’s still alive or dead. Spends the rest of the night presuming he’s an invisible ghost. Trolls immensely.

Freddy Krueger

⋆ Wants to play beer pong and won’t stop talking about beer pong until at least one person plays beer pong with him. No one does though, so he faces the table against the wall and verses himself. Gets totally wasted and needs to repetitively inform everyone just how drunk he is.

⋆ Fails to hook up with someone and pursues to suck his own cock. Thinks he does a better job at it anyway. Proposes free pony rides to all the chicks attending the party but results in scaring them further away. Bubba excitedly raises his hand though and frantically searches the dorm for his cowboy hat. Speedily withdraws the offer and explains there isn’t a horse involved. Back to drinking.

⋆ Makes the mistake of walking past a body-length mirror and gets a horrifying glimpse of his reflection. Too wasted to realise that’s how he always looks like and starts to freak out. Yells why no one thought to take him to the hospital because maybe the doctors could have saved him. Just sits ugly-crying in front of the mirror with one hand on the glass and a can of beer in the other. Suddenly perks up when someone asks for volunteers to help steal the opposing frat house’s pet pig though.

Bubba Sawyer

⋆ Overwhelmed. Only has a sip of alcohol, then chugs the rest of the bottle dry. Was going to pace himself but ends up driving the porcelain bus an hour into the party. Wants to laugh, cry, shit, spew, scream and dance all at the same time. Succeeds.

⋆ Can’t get enough of the booze but stays clear of the flying pink elephant inducing pills. By far the most trashed and happiest person in the room. Turns the stereo up to its maximum volume and blabbers about how every song it plays is his favourite song. Very footloose. Starts a conga line and happens to be both at the beginning and end of it because no one else joined in.

⋆ Removes his sweaty shirt and uses it to do the helicopter. Hurls it onto a poor, unexpecting person’s head. Pours bottles of liquor over his bare torso and warily squeals when he feels the fluid seep down his pants, into his crack. Goes on to remove the rest of his clothing and embarks streaking through the sprinklers on the front lawn of the college. Has multiple school officers chasing after him.

#slashers #jason voorhees #michael myers #bubba sawyer #freddy krueger #slasher fandom #slasher fanfic #slasher requests #slasher headcanons #slasher imagines #horror #shitpost

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skvaderarts · 4 years

Text

Apocrypha Chapter Thirty Seven: Opposition

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Opposition

Notes: And here I sit, having to go to work in 10 hours, and I’m just starting this chapter. Not the best decision, but I’ll find a way to make it work. And then tomorrow I’m gonna relax and try to knock out both chapters for next week early. I can only imagine that Black Friday (which I’m firmly refusing to work this year!) is gonna keep me busy all week.

(-~-)

Sunday, August 25th, 2:00 am

A cursory look at how the situation was unfolding immediately lent to the idea that any and all police would probably be converging on the vicinity of the attack shortly. Despite the fact that there was very little that the local police (or the military, for that matter) could do against hordes of demons, they were obligated to try, even if only a little. If the Redgrave City attack was anything to go by, the region was woefully underprepared for another demonic attack, but the youngest Son of Sparda was admittedly hopeful that some sort of initiative would be taken by the local government to see to it that the next time something like that happened, they would be able to do more than throw useless grunts at the problem and blow up bridges to keep the demons at bay.

Why did there always have to be a next time?

Despite the fact that it would bring a swift and permanent end to Dante’s demon-hunting career, he couldn’t help but wish for a day where the population of the underworld lost the ability to travel two and from worlds. Their father had spent a considerable amount of time seeing to that, and had made untenable strides in that regard, but here they were, over two thousand years later and still fighting the same foe. It seemed that there would always be a need for their family’s experience in devil hunting; a fact that troubled the devil hunter in red slightly. Was this it, then? Was their entire bloodline cursed to do battle against their father’s kin for the remainder of their existence until the day came when they no longer could? Were none of them allowed to pursue their own wants and goals outside of this admittedly limited field? It was all a bit fatalistic and heavy for his tastes, but he found his mind wandering to the topic on occasion these days when he considered his family and everything they had sacrificed as a whole to protect the general public. It was all very heroic, but was there to be nothing more to their lives than endless self-sacrifice and then a glorious and inevitable death in battle?

In truth, Dante couldn’t say that he really minded going out that way, but every time he saw Nero with his family and V trying his best to acclimate to a new and unfamiliar world, he couldn’t help but feel… something that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. If asked, he’d probably say that it was remorse for the lives that they could have had if not for the fact that they had been born into this mess, but he wasn’t sure that was what he really thought. There was no denying that he was glad they were a part of his family, but there were days, especially after Nero had been nearly killed when his twin brother had attacked him that day, that he wished they could have both lived in blissful ignorance, unaware of the danger that their seemingly cursed bloodline carried with it.

The idea of never having met them pained him greatly, but if it meant that they would not have to deal with the trials and tribulations ahead of them and the weight their lineage carried, then he would have slept better at night knowing that they were not doomed to the same fate that he and his older twin were. He wondered how they felt now, and how knowing what he felt would affect them. Dante would never say any of what he was thinking out loud to either of them, but he’d think it nonetheless. And every time that he saw them, it would be a reminder.

Perhaps the two of them together could achieve some semblance of normality for the rest of their little family. Was that such an unreasonable fantasy? It was not impossible to believe that there might be a day where they no longer needed to participate in this endless battle. Or maybe that was wishful thinking. Still, the devil hunter in red needed something to strive for. He wasn’t getting any younger, and the idea of doing battle against their foes was still just as exhilarating to him as it had always been, especially now that his own identical twin was no longer one of those foes. But still, there was much work to be done.

“So whatda think the odds are of this being that cult again?” Dante said as the twins headed towards the building in question. The onslaught of demons had stopped for the time being, signaling that something more might be going on here than they originally thought.”

Vergil stayed quiet for a moment, shifting Yamato to his non dominate hand in an effort to prepare for another attack. There was no way that the eldest Son of Sparda was going to simply waltz into a dark, decrepit building that he’d never been inside of before and just assume that everything was going to be fine. The Darkslayer hadn’t lived as long as he had by being an absolute tool, and he expected that Dante wasn’t that foolish, either. After all, his brother was many things, but a complete idiot was not one of them. While the younger of the two was prone to do foolish things, that didn’t mean that he had a psychotic death wish. And if he did, he wasn’t going to act on it in any way, shape, or form tonight. There were matters to attend to, and he intended to see things through to the end.

“I would imagine the odds of that being the case are about on par with the possibility of this being an obvious trap staged by our opponent.” Vergil lowered his voice as the pair entered the building, making an effort not to give themselves away too prematurely. From what he could tell, they seemed to have the element of surprise, at least for the time being. There was no need to squander that.” But then again, if this is a product of one of Belial’s schemes, then it could very well be an obvious trap meant to throw us off so that we fall victim to another less obvious trap. He likes to indulge in those kinds of games from time to time.’

Dante shot Vergil a curious look as they continued forward. So this Belial demon truly wasn’t playing around, then? Good. He enjoyed a good fight from time to time. He just hoped that no one else got dragged into the conflict. And then there was the mater of V and his connection to this cult. While they had a reasonable hunch as to why this powerful demon prince might want to capture V and what the cult planned to do, there was still no certainty as to what and why this was happening. How had he even known that V was alive in the first place? Dante had spent nearly the entirety of both of his nephews’ lives ignorant to their existence, only for them to go and yank a misplaced soul out of the netherworld and for a demon of this caliber to send someone after him? What were the odds of that?

He needed more in-depth details as to what was going on here…

“So if you think it’s a trap, what are we doing here?” Dante said, not so much expecting an answer from his twin as he was from himself. As if by instinct, they’d both just walked into the building, knowing full well that this wasn’t a logical idea. And yet, here they were. Maybe they were both just insane. “Or maybe there just aren’t a whole lot of things that can stop both of us if we’re working together. And we are, for once.” Dante considered internally for a moment. Yes, maybe that was it. But getting too cocky couldn’t end well in the long run. They had to keep their option open, lest they fall victim to their own naivete.

The youngest of the two brothers couldn’t help but imagine that V would have something to say about this kind of thing; some wise homily to spin about the dangers of hubris and such. Who could say? He wasn’t here, after all. And what a lucky turn of events that had turned out to be.

Dante didn’t really mind V’s presence in the slightest, but keeping him as far as they could from any possible cult activity was probably a good policy. He could only imagine that his oldest nephew had made a swift recovery by now, but that could all change in an instant if they ran up against a super-powerful demon or a powerful summoner. While V was formidable in a battle (at least from what Dante had seen) there was a certain level of risk that he knowingly undertook anytime he entered battle that none of the rest of them took. Despite his obvious skill, V had the least training out of the lot of them, and the youngest Son of Sparda couldn’t help but imagine what he might be capable of if they showed him how a devil arm worked or he gained further proficiency over his abilities. It had taken Nero a while to get where he was now, but the difference showed in every conceivable way.

Once they returned to the office, the next step would be to return the Arcana to Vie de Marli where it belonged, they would have to see to it that V received some sort of mentorship. But first, they had to make him put down his books long enough to show him anything. Dante couldn’t help but think that V would do better as a librarian or working in some sort of museum than he would in a vicious battle to the death against demons. And yet, somehow he held his own just fine for the most part. The devil hunter in red had to give his nephew credit for one thing: he was an extraordinarily fast learner.

“Because that is where we will more than likely locate our assailant. I have some questions for them.” Vergil said under his breath as they neared what appeared to be a large, open room. He wasn’t so much irritated with Dante as he was the lack of knowledge in this situation, at least for the time being. He refused to tolerate this severe lack of insight any longer than he had to.

The instant that they rounded the corner and walked into the central chamber of the old factory, the two of them were faced with a literal wall of demonic energy. The entire building suddenly reeked of it, confirming their suspicion that this was the place that they had been looking for. And much to their surprise, there was a man standing at the far end of the room with their back turned to them, seemingly unaware of the fact that they had arrived. The twins halted, deciding in silent unison to take the opportunity to see what was going on since a large, glowing portal stood before the unknown man. He shook his head, nodding along to something they couldn’t hear before a loud, otherworldly voice echoed throughout the chamber they currently occupied. Vergil closed his eyes for a moment, a wave of obvious displeasure taking over his features. It was rare that the eldest Son of Sparda wished that he was wrong about something, but this certainly counted as one of those occasions. Dante glanced over at him, searching for silent confirmation of what he’d already surmised from Vergil’s shift in tone. This was the Belial he’d heard so much about, then? Well, they certainly sounded the part. The deep, bellowing tone he spoke in was accited by a certain level of cold, calculating intelligence that Dante was accustomed to associating with the demons he’d spent so long doing battle against, putting the likes of Balrog and Burial to shame despite their obvious sentience. Not, this devil was conniving, and he clearly knew what he was talking about, even if neither of them did.

“From what I can tell, things are going to plan. Well, I assume, that is. I don’t have a way of checking.”

“You see, that is where you and I differ most, servant. I do not assume. I know.”

The man shivered slightly, clearly shaken by the words of the powerful being that he served. To say that he was in way over his head would be an understatement, but then again, so we’re practically all humans that dared do business with a Prince of Darkness.

“Do you desire anything else from me, master?”

“Oh, I can assure you, I do not require the services of you or any other wayward stragglers any longer. My little cult has proven to be an entertaining diversion for some time now, but it seems that Vergil has once again inadvertently served my best interests by eliminating the vast majority of you. Now I need not do the tidying up on this joyous occasion myself. Truly splendid indeed.”

If they could have seen the face of the being who he spoke to, Dante got the impression that he had just smirked in self-satisfaction, readjusting himself on his metaphorical throne. There was no way of knowing for sure, but they were willing to bet that the man standing before them had no idea how truly dead he was, and their assumption was proven correct meer moment later when the man suddenly began choking and screaming, violently thrashing about before falling onto the floor. He went into some sort of fit before going totally still, clearly dead to anyone unlucky enough to discover him. Blood ran down his face from his nose and mouth as he gave his last breath, clearly quite distressed as he perished at the hands of his former master.

For a moment, everything went quiet. Dante and Vergil watched, unmoving as the portal continued to glow brightly, knowing that it needed to be closed but unsure as to how it had managed to be opened in the first place. There was a part of Vergil that was furious that he’d missed the opportunity to question the man himself, but he got the impression that Belial wasn’t stupid enough to leave witnesses walking around who his detractors could interrogate. But just as Vergil considered suggesting that they vacate the premises, a low, genuinely pleased laugh bellowed forward from the rift that stood before them.

“You know, I should thank you, Son of Sparda. Truly, It’s not every day that I get to indulge in such activities. It’s nothing personal, really. I don’t do personal. But I’m not sorry to say that I won’t be showing you any form of gratitude. You shall see in due time.” He paused for a moment, seemingly waiting for Vergil to speak or respond in some way, but he didn’t. He simply stayed there, unmoving and internally cursing himself for coming here. How had he forgotten about that little facet of his foe’s abilities?” I trust that you remember what happened the last time our paths crossed. I can’t imagine that you’ve forgotten already. After all, our meeting was so… memorable. I kid, of course. You remember very little of that encounter, as was my will. But do take your time to concoct your own clever schemes as you always do. Some day soon I shall remind you why my will is absolute.”

With no further fanfare, the portal went dark but remained open. Vergil waited a moment before allowing a long, almost tormented sigh to escape his lungs and exit his mouth. Yes, of course, Belial had known he was there. Didn’t he always. He stood up from the crouched position they’d taken behind the broken and abandoned factory equipment and walked over to the portal, unsheathing Yamato and using it to close the gateway. A criss-cross of delayed swipes closed the gate the instant Vergil returned his devil arm to its sheath, the Darkslayer shaking his head slightly as he rested his hand on his forehead and pinched the top of the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

“... Should I ask why you and the nightmare demon are on a first-name basis? And how did he know you were here?” Dante approached Vergil slowly, unsure as to where he should even begin, considering everything he’d just heard.” What’s all this about you forgetting? Did he wipe your memory or somethin’?”

Vergil sighed and dropped his hand from his face, swiftly walking away from the place where the gate had once stood and towards the exit. He suddenly felt an immense and overwhelming desire to leave this place and never return. Dante followed closely behind him, somewhat relieved that the attack was at least over for the time being and that massive amounts of damage were not dealt this time around. It had only been about a city block or so, and casualties, if there were any, had been scarce. After the dumpster fire that the Redgrave City incident had turned into, Dante was eager and willing to take any victories he would take part in, even if those victories were short-lived and slightly situational. This was over because the devil that had willed it into existence had grown bored of it, and that was a fact that Dante wasn’t blind to. And he was not keen on it.

Once they reached the exit and stepped back out onto the street, Vergil crossed his arms for a moment and sighed, unable to find even temporary pleasure in the cool night air. This situation had just taken a rather unorthodox turn for the worst out of nowhere, and he didn’t like that one bit.

”To answer your ceaseless questions, brother, we met some time before I returned to the human world. He demanded that I serve him after the demon thrown was left… unattended. Most were unwilling to contest his rise to power at that time, but I refused and usurped him.” Vergil glanced away for a moment, noting the distant lights that accompanied the fire trucks that had just pulled up about two blocks down the road from where they currently stood.” As for how he knew I was there, I can only assume he can still sense my presence from the underworld so long as I am within a certain proximity to a portal. We might as be standing in the same room as far as his abilities are concerned. He does not forget something once he’s experienced it.”

Dante nodded, not at all pleased by any of what his brother had just said. He didn’t need to know how that worked to know that it wasn’t good.” I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess that’s how he killed that guy?”

Vergil nodded.” Yes, in much the same way he attempted to kill me when last we met. Belial has access to a primordial source of power somewhat akin to Nightmare’s that allows him to… suggest an experience for you relive, especially when that memory was never yours, to begin with. That and the pressure he exudes when near someone is enough to send most beings spiraling into an early death, or a coma at the very least. It’s rare to be able to resist pure terror. That’s how he managed to fragment my memory of our full encounter, and he clearly revels in that fact. I suppose you could say that his true power is trauma itself.”

This time it was Dante’s turn to cross his arms and look unamused.” So he can, what, literally scare someone to death? Tranutize you so badly that you forget entire events or think something else happened?”

“In essence, yes. And so long as he has physically been in the presence of the individual he wishes to exert his will over, he is basically unavoidable. Thankfully his range is limited, but the extent of his cruelty and the range his machinations are willing to extend to is not. He cares little for petty sentiments such as honor or decency.” Vergil looked distant for a moment as though he were considering something unfathomable, something that he was truly unable to make himself consider.” He would absolutely destroy the minds of anyone necessary to harm his actual larget and leave them a husk of their former selves, decimated beyond repair. I’ve seen him do it. And all that purely to see his opponent break. He is a plague in that sense. And now you understand why I have so little tolerance for anyone who willingly serves him, hence the reason I cut down his cult where they stood. This cannot be allowed to continue.”

For a moment, Dante just stared at Vergil, unsure of what to even say about the mental image that his twin had just painted for him. It was a bit difficult to defeat an enemy that could destroy you from the inside out. How were they supposed to stop him? And although neither of them said it, they were admittedly concerned to some degree when it came to what this demon might want with V and these plans that he was working on. Everything about this situation seemed dire, and the youngest Son of Sparda was starting to grasp the severity of what this could mean for them.

This was now a war.

“Yea… none of that is good, Vergil. None of it.” Dante sighed and shook his head, the weight of the situation they were now in truly affecting them. They needed to act fast and smart, something they didn’t tend to do.” Can’t believe I’m saying this, but we should probably head back to the office and start coming up with a plan or something. Oh, and put that knife back where it belongs.”

Vergil nodded wordlessly, his mind a thousand miles away. He was still combing over the situation at hand. There was a part of him that couldn’t’ shake the feeling that this was all a misdirection of some sort, meant to leave them open to a larger threat. That was generally how Belial operated. While he believed every word of their enemy’s threat, it just wasn’t like the demon prince to be so… direct.

Just a moment later, the two of them glanced up the street, noting that there was a person in a safety vest standing on top of a vehicle. The man addressed the growing crowd of people gathering around them, all of the locals seeming terrified out of their minds. “Please vacate the area! We are investigating the cause of this event. We have also received news of a mild earthquake due west of here. It caused some kind of underground cave-in deep in the woods near the waterfront which we will be investigating as well. If you reside in that area, do take care when returning home. Thank you for your time!”

Both Dante and Vergil shared a knowing look, relatively positive that they knew where this cave-in had occurred. It seemed that they were not returning to the office just yet. They had a conduit to double-check.

(-~-)

And just like that, it’s 5:55 am! I have to work today from noon to 7 pm. Looks like it’s going to be a long, energy drink filled day. But that’s okay. It was worth it to finish this chapter! No lie, I might carry this over into a book three as I did with Soliloquy a while back just to keep the pacing in this fic consistent. I’ll think about that when I’m more awake though. Anyway, I look forward to reading what you thought about this chapter! I’m using a new document editor, so I hope it did the trick! I think I’ll post this fic a few hours early, too. See you next week!

#Apocrypha #Devil May Cry #Devil May Cry 5 #Dante #Vergil #DMC5 #DMCV #A03 Fic #Ao3 Fanfic #Devil May Cry V #Post Devil May Cry 5 #Post DMC5

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