#which leads to another problem... which is that AO3 won't and can't do anything about that because it means reviewing all the works case by

[jeremys-stash]

y'all saying "an anti wants to be on the AO3 board blablabla" and like... yes, the woman wants censorship that will bring a lot of problems, but also you're stating that you're pro here. You're stating that you don't mind people shipping incest, child/adult and other stuff.

I do get that censorship is bad, especially since you always have to do a case-by-case for the work depending on how the story is told etc... But also if you complain about "antis" then you're "pros" and therefore your speech is unreliable because you yourself have the same blindfold that you're complaining the other has; which is to be blindly pro everything with the others being blindly anti everything.

If you can't get nuance, I don't trust you nor your judgement.

[the-mad-starker]

Starkercest: The Stuff of Dreams

This smutty piece was inspired by @toybandaids​​ and the use of sleeping pills in Only Me (Link here! 😏) and encouraged by my friend Keyz 😊 Tried to get this in for Father's Day but it ended up longer than expected (what else is new 😅😅) then of course, procrastinated some more by making a moodboard!

One more fic until I start on my Starker Festival bingo!

Summary:  Omega Peter watches over his father's dreams and makes sure they're sweet, pleasant dreams.

Notes:  Incest, A/B/O, Intersex omegas, noncon/dubcon, drug induced somnophilia, tiny bit of bulge kink, size kink, breeding, vaginal sex

WC: 3617

(AO3 Link)

💗💗💗 

Peter worries about his dad constantly.

People like to brush it off by saying it's an omega thing which– ugh, he doesn't even want to get into that. It's not an omega thing, it's a Peter thing because… because his dad is Tony Stark, okay?

His dad is amazing, a perfect alpha. He's a literal genius, a trait Peter inherits from his father. But more than that, his dad has such a big heart. For others, it's difficult to see under all that sass and sharp tongue of his but when he's with Peter, it's all warmth and smiles. Peter gets the sass too, but he gets everything else that his dad is too guarded to show anyone else.

He loves that about his father.

Tony's also the perfect alpha, even without his gig as Iron man or a billionaire.

And Peter worries, okay? Because all this superhero stuff takes such a heavy toll on his alpha, especially since Peter somehow gets roped into it too. But they both know that Peter wouldn't give up being Spider-man for anything. Not when it means he can be by his dad's side. Protect him. Keep him safe.

An omega protecting an alpha? Not as uncommon as people like to think. Especially when it comes to Peter. His dad is the most important person to him, of course, he'd protect him.

It's another hard night when they return home.

His dad has Friday scan him from the top of his head down to the tips of his toes. Any minor bruising or injuries Peter sustains during battles are wiped clean by the time they get home though. Even with Friday confirming that, Tony still looks him over.

"You sure you didn't get hurt?"

"I'm sure, dad."

"How about your shoulder? I saw you take that hit–"

"Dad– I said I'm okay…!"

The alpha breathes out a sigh that sounds like it comes from his very core. His hands on Peter's shoulders loosen as the tension eases out of him.

"Okay. Okay," he says, shoulders slumping, "Sorry, kiddo. I know– I know you can take care of yourself. I just worry, okay?"

If Peter was like any other teen, Tony's constant concern could possibly rub him the wrong way. Instead, the young omega soaks it all up, just melting in his dad's arms. His own come up to hug his alpha father and he's just tall enough now that he can bury his nose against his father's scent gland.

He breathes in the familiar scent of home and a soft, quiet sort of purr rumbles in his chest. His father answers it with one of his own, deep and reassuring. The sound is a private little thing between them, an intimate affair for just them alone.

"I worry, too, dad," Peter admits. Then, because he knows his dad is feeling a bit vulnerable, he asks, "Is it… Is it okay if I sleep with you tonight? Please, dad?"

He can feel his dad's huff of laughter and the warm puff of breath against his ear. He has to force his body to keep from trembling.

"Was there really any point in giving you your own floor if you're just gonna sleep with your old man all the time?" Tony's words are a soft tease but he doesn't say no. Peter knows he won't, either. He never does.

"It keeps me from cluttering the penthouse?" Peter says innocently, a light quip to his dad's rhetorical question.

"Yeah," Tony steps back and shakes his head with a fond smile. "Okay, kiddo, guess we're having a sleepover, just you and me."

It's always just them. And that's how Peter wants it to remain.

They do their routines, brush their teeth side by side. Tony strips down to just his boxers and Peter wears short shorts and an undershirt. 

His dad's body is littered with faded scars, marks from their work as superheroes. Sturdy strong shoulders and a trim waist, thanks to Peter's insistence that they try to be healthy. His dad has enough health problems as it is.

In contrast, Peter is all lithe muscles and slender lines thanks to omegan biology and then the bite.

Nothing unusual happens. It never does during this part…

But then they settle down and Peter curls up against his father's side, cuddling close and throwing a leg over his dad's.

"Little octopus," his daddy teases, "Thought you were bit by a spider."

Peter only clings even tighter when his father reaches for the bedside drawer. Even with his face half buried against his dad's shoulder, his ears pick up the soft rattle of pills.

"Dr. Banner still okaying those?" Peter asks curiously.

"Yeah, insomnia's a bitch and these have worked real good so–" Tony pops two pills and swallows it dry. "I just want a good night's sleep with my favorite son."

"I'm your only son," Peter points out, right on cue.

"Mhmm…" Tony settles down, pulling the sheets up and making sure they're both covered. "Favorite son…"

Peter pretends to drift off, eyes closed, but his mind is far too active to fall asleep. He feels the way Tony's breathing deepens; the pill taking effect fast.

While his dad is lulled into sleep, his heart thumping away at a steady, reassuring pace, Peter's is quickening.

He's about to do something unforgivable, but it wouldn't be the first time.

Fifteen minutes go by.

"Dad…?" Peter murmurs softly.

"Mm…?" Tony barely responds. It's more instinct, his father recognizing Peter's voice calling for him.

"Love you," he answers quietly and gets no response besides a soft hum.

Peter waits some more, though his little cocklet is starting to get hard. He doesn't dare rub against his dad–yet.

Another half an hour passes.

"Daddy…?" Peter murmurs.

This time, there's no response. He lightly taps his finger against the arc reactor and still, there's no response.

His dad is deep asleep, helped along by those innocent little pills that'll keep him under while Peter has his fun.

With his heart thumping, Peter carefully sits up. The sheet slips from his shoulder with a soft hiss, but he barely notices. He's gotten so excited, so wet, just laying there, thinking about what's to come. His tiny little shorts are soaked in no time.

He gently tugs the sheet away from his father's sleeping body and he does it so slowly, breath held, as though revealing a grand prize. He's seen his dad's body so often, naked or clothed, but each time he sees it like this, it's like the first time all over.

The thrill of excitement floods his system, and he takes a moment to drink it all in.

His alpha… Tony…

When Peter can't contain himself, he crawls between his father's legs and gently palms Tony's soft cock. He starts off with gentle, curious strokes and feels it respond by lengthening right under his hand.

He settles on his stomach, presses his face between the alpha's inner thigh and the now noticeable erection his dad is sporting. He breathes in the scent, mouthing at the fabric and hands greedy as he tugs Tony's boxers down.

"Ah…" Peter can't help but moan when Tony's cock is revealed.

His father isn't even fully erect but already, the size and girth of his cock makes Peter's mouth water. His eyes dart up to Tony's sleeping face as he nuzzles his cheek against his dad's alpha cock.

"Missed this…" the omega murmurs as he leads the tip to his mouth. "I know you missed it too, dad… Haven't been able to help you this week and you got so grumpy in the last meeting…"

He starts to lightly suck on the tip, thin, pink lips covering the fat mushroom shaped head. He licks away the precum right from the slit before it even manages to drip.

"I'll make it better, daddy…" he promises.

Above him, Tony's lips part open and a soft sigh can be heard. His cock twitches in Peter's hand, responding eagerly to the familiar touch. He's having a good dream, pleasure and warmth wrapped in one, as he's being serviced.

Peter takes in more. He loves sucking Tony's cock and loves it best like this. Loves feeling his father's soft cock grow in his mouth. It fits nicely in his mouth like this but not for long. He sucks and licks hungrily and Tony's cock thickens and swells right in his mouth.

It's an experience unlike any other… Feeling his efforts being rewarded in the form of a thick, rock hard alpha cock.

He's managed to get his father to come down his throat multiple times. He's only been able to take his knot once. It's tempting to try it again tonight but his pussy feels so empty… His back hole too…

Once his mind considers going all the way, he has a hard time deciding which hole he wants to use to get his father off.

His dad seems to like his pussy the best. He's not sure if Tony realizes just what hole he's fucking, but it's like the alpha's instincts kick in and the need to breed takes over.

Peter likes it best there, too, but he's still stuck in indecision. So he decides he'll figure it out in the moment. He just knows that tonight, he's getting a creampie, either way.

He continues sucking Tony off, licking and slurping to his heart's content. The alpha's cock stretches his lips wide, fills his mouth past the point of comfort.

Peter has learned how to breathe with such a sizable obstruction in the way. His eyes threaten to roll to the back of his head when the length tickles the back of his throat.

He pulls off with a wet gasp, saliva leaving the length all wet and gleaming. Thin strands of spit connect the tip to his mouth and he leans back down to lavish even more attention on it.

"Mm… There you go, dad," Peter moans softly, "Got you all nice and ready. Aren't I such a good son…?"

He gives the alpha cock one last stroke, squeezing just how he knows his father likes. Once that nice warm hole is gone from his cock, his dad's expression becomes troubled. Brows twitch and scrunch up, a line forming between them.

Peter gets up on his knees and presses his father's cock against his own smaller stiff length.

"Ah… daddy…" Peter sighs with a roll of his hips. His eyes fixate on Tony's face and the upset turn of his mouth.

He leans down, purposely rubbing the alpha's cock even more.

"I'll make it better," he promises with a kiss to the corner of Tony's mouth. "Make it better for both of us…"

He lifts up just enough to position his father's cock against his pussy. Just that might touch is enough to make him tremble as the tip slips through his plump lips. 

He's leaking so much slick already… The wet sounds are more than enough to turn the tips of his ears red. It sounds so dirty and the act itself is even more so.

"I need it…" Peter admits, eyes slipping shut as he savors the anticipation. "Need this so bad, dad…"

This entire time he's been telling himself how much he helps his father by doing this. He says he takes all of his alpha's frustration, leaves him feeling spent and relaxed and how it's good for Tony… A little stress relief.

But the truth is… Peter is a selfish brat. His daddy is his and the only omega in Tony's life is Peter.

The tip is drenched in his slick and the alpha's own precum. And even though his pussy aches at the thought, he pulls back and drags his father's cockhead to the tight little back hole that's just as hungry to be filled.

When he presses the tip there, Peter's just so tempted to sink down… He wants to feel his daddy's cock breach him there and he wants to groan around the stretch, feeling so full that he can barely breathe.

He considers it, God, he considers it… But with an impatient hiss, his hips angle back so that Tony's cock presses against his pussy again.

He sinks down without another thought or at least he tries.

"Ah…" Peter moans as he's being stretched apart. 

He can feel everything… The wide glans pushing its way inside him… the prominent veins all along the length of his daddy's cock… Warm, rock hard flesh… Bare inside him. No condom, because fuck, they're family… Father and son. This is all he ever wants… Just his daddy filling him up so good… 

His thighs tremble as he tries to control just how much he takes. There's a dark thought in the back of his head to just slam down and feel the way his daddy stretches him so obscenely.

The omega whimpers and looks down at his father through the slits of his eyelids.

"Daddy…" Peter moans shamelessly as he rocks up and down, trying to inch more and more inside him "Daddy… Ah… Daddy…"

Just halfway and he can't take any more. No, he has to work himself open on his daddy's cock just to be able to take him fully. He leans forward and groans when a few inches slip out. He feels it so keenly, the way his walls cling to his father's cock.

He sinks back down with labored panting, eyes threatening to roll to the back of his head. Tony's cock takes up every space inside him, every crevice… 

The angle is perfect, Peter makes sure it is. He's done this often enough that he knows just how to ride his daddy and get his cock to brush against that sweet spot inside him.

"Dad…" His voice wobbled and he swallows the lump in his throat. "It feels so good… so good, daddy…"

Peter reaches for his father's limp hands and intertwines their fingers. Their bodies are joined, connected, but holding Tony's hands, palm to palm, brings a whole other element of intimacy to the act.

His hips roll fluidly as he falls into a familiar rhythm, inching more and more of his father's cock inside his sopping wet pussy. He feels it the moment Tony's cockhead bumps against the entrance to his womb. He sucks in a sharp breath, lashes fluttering at the sensation.

He glances down the flat planes of his body and his breath hitches. He leads one hand to his belly where a subtle but noticeable bulge interrupts the natural shape of his body. He presses his father's hand against it, knowing his daddy's cock is right there.

"Daddy's cock…" Peter moans softly, "Feel you so deep inside me, daddy… and it's still– still, mm, not enough…"

It only makes him even more desperate to get it all inside. The bed starts to squeak, the headboard tapping against the wall as Peter's pleasured moans fill the air. 

He drags his father's hands, so warm and broad, to his hips. Presses Tony's fingers down and imagines his father guiding him as he fucks into his own son.

Pleasure grows inside him, warmth coiling tight in his belly.

"Dad…" 

Peter's moans are unrestrained and louder now that he's caught up in the pleasure. 

His eyes slip shut. He doesn't notice how his father's hands tighten around his waist nor does he notice Tony's eyes struggle to open.

He only notices when his father's hips push up violently, sinking that last stubborn inch inside of him.

"Ah!" Shock colors the yelp along with delight. His eyes fly open, terrified that somehow he's woken his father up.

Heat blooms from his cheeks and spreads all the way down. It leaves his chest flushed with mortification, his pink nipples peaked with excitement.

His father is staring right at him.

"Dad!" 

Peter cries out when Tony's hands turn harsh and drag him down so they're pressed chest to chest. His cock rubs against his father's belly and he's helpless– He can't help squirming and moaning even though he's been caught. Can't help rubbing his hard omega cock against his father's abs.

"Pete–!" His dad groans, arms snaking around his back. "Fuck! Fuck…!"

His daddy is… His daddy is fucking him! Instead of throwing Peter off, his father's strong arms hold him in place as he fucks in deep, hips thrusting up almost desperately.

"Dadd…!" Peter gasps. He turns his head, nuzzling against Tony's beard and searching for his lips. He feels like he'd die if he didn't kiss him right that second.

"Oh, fuck, baby…" his dad groans breathlessly. "Fuck… Don't wanna wake up… God, your pussy… My baby's pussy feels so good…"

"Oh…!" Peter desperately pushes against his dad's arms so he can look into his eyes. What he sees is both terrible and great.

His father is looking back at him, wonder and lust– Lust!– so clear in his eyes. The expression, one Peter has never imagined being directed at him, sends a thrill down his spine.

The terrible truth is that his dad thinks he's dreaming. But he thinks he's dreaming of fucking his own son…

"Don't wake up, dad," Peter breathes and Tony groans. He buys into it as Peter lets him fuck his pussy, encourages him with seductive rolls of his hips. "Want your cum… Want it so bad… Will you give it to me, daddy? Are you gonna blow inside my pussy…?"

His father moans, eyes refusing to close. He keeps looking straight at Peter with bleary, hazy eyes.

"Gonna– Mm, gonna fill my baby up…" Tony mumbles almost incoherently but Peter's so close that he catches every word. Excitement spikes inside him and he meets his father's thrusts with his own, desperate to feel him come.

"Do it, dad… Come inside," Peter says, eyes wide and pleading. "Do it, do it… Fill me up, daddy… Want… want your pups inside me…!"

A part of him thinks he's gone too far. A part of him thinks those words will shock his father into truly waking.

But perhaps he doesn't know his father as well as he thinks. Those forbidden words only spurn Tony into fucking him harder.

The alpha growls at the encouragement, hips slapping against his ass.

"Oh…! Oh!" Peter squeals when he feels it. 

His daddy's knot…

It's not the first time he's gotten Tony to knot him but this will be the first that he's being knotted instead of just taking it. 

It's different, vastly different with his father actually doing the deed. It adds a whole other element that was previously missing… His father's desperate groans and the way he clutches Peter tight as he ruts and ruts… Trying to get his knot to pop so that he can lock himself in.

The knot slips in and out, still too small but not for long. Peter clenches down on it, crying out with every failed attempt to keep it inside. It leaves him feeling too wide open, bereft, even though his father's cock is still stuffing him full.

Tony, too, is growling in his ear, puffs of warm breath ghosting over sensitive skin as he works desperately to tie them together. His cock touches every part of Peter deep inside… So deep…

All the while, his father's calling out his name.

"Peter… Mm, Peter, baby..."

It leaves no illusion as to who he's imagining and Peter moans in bliss, pliant and willing to be bred right then and there. With the relentless fucking, the desperate need to fill him up, it was inevitable that Peter couldn't hold on.

His entire body locks down as he finally gives him. Warmth blossoms between them, his aching cock spilling generously between their bellies. A rush of slick gushes around his father's cock, drenching his groin but that doesn't stop him.

All that slick only makes it easier to fuck into Peter's clenching pussy. Makes it easier to knot.

When the knot finally locks into place, Peter almost sobs in relief, spent as he is. The last harsh tug has tears prickle in his eyes but the sensation passes when a flood of heat surges into him.

Peter cries out, body shaking, as his father groans in completion. Load after load is released inside, his dad shamelessly filling up his little pussy… Cockhead pressed right where he wants it, soaking his insides and pushing through as much seed as possible into his womb...

The omega's nails drag down Tony's chest, leaving streaks of red lines in his wake. He feels every pulse, ever twitch… His daddy coming so deep inside him that he feels him in his stomach.

Cum drunk, Peter realizes with a soft moan. That's what he is… His daddy's filling him up so much that he's getting high off the feeling.

He kisses his dad with clumsy sloppy kisses and Tony returns them. His actions are more sluggish now that he's accomplished his goal.

"Sweet dreams…" Peter murmurs when he places another pill between Tony's lips. Another kiss and this time, Peter's tongue eases between his father's lips… His dad swallows it easily.

Tony drifts back into pleasurable dreams and Peter gingerly sits. He groans softly when his daddy's cock continues to pulse inside him. With his internal muscles squeezing down, milking the knot, he knows it'll be a long night.

Unlike all the other previous nights, Peter is now inspired. With the memory of his daddy reverently whispering his name, Peter starts to gently rock back and forth, stimulating the knot and getting ready for another round.

He'll be sure to give his daddy more sweet dreams to comfort him.

[fritae]

The Missing Piece (Chapter 12)

Closer.

gang! au / ceo! au

characters: dabi x f. oc, lov

status: ongoing

read on ao3 here.

a/n: i really like this chapter heh, hope u enjoy! 😚

The staircase leads all the way to basement. I wondered why they would hide such steep, hidden steps in Dabi's office when they could create (much) shorter, more accessible ones from the first floor.

But I'm guessing that's the point.

This isn't supposed to be easy to reach. And Dabi's office is the one place no one would dare enter.

Aside from us, of course.

The basement is completely dark, forcing me to draw myself even closer to Dabi. I enjoy the weight of his hand in mine. He has a firm, tight grip. But just as the thought warms my cheeks, I shake it out of my head.

Within seconds, Dabi turns on the lights.

My eyes widen, taking in the sight before me.

Blood.

A lot of it.

Though it looks dried, like it's been there for ages.

I spot a wall of different sized knives on one hand. A gun display on the other. A shelf of jars, filled with a murky looking liquid and...I don't even want to know what that is inside.

Dabi watches me.

There's a simple, plastic white table in the center of the floor with a large white board behind it.

The place is much messier and less...classy, than the rest of the Blaze.

But I have the feeling it's because it's not meant for outside eyes.

"You okay?" Dabi asks.

I nod, squeezing his hand to comfort myself.

Before the others reach the bottom, he whispers in my ear, "Whenever you want to leave, let me know. You don't have to be here."

"Okay."

"And," He takes another glance at the stairs as the others begin to appear. "Again, Rina. This place does not exist. Anything we say here does not leave this room. Got it?"

I glance warily at the knives.

"Why are you so worried?" I try to smile so he doesn't pick up on my nervousness. "I don't have anyone outside of you guys anyway. Who would I talk to?"

My comment seems to confuse him. "What about-"

"Welcome to the League!!" Toga jumps off the last few steps and swings into full view.

I shoot Dabi a look. "The League?"

"The League of Villains, of course!" Atsuhiro follows Toga, a dramatic grin on his lips. "Only the baddest group of bad boys in town."

"And girls!" Toga calls out.

"League of Villains?" I cackle. "Who came up with that?"

Tenko scowls.

Oop.

Dabi lets go of my hand and motions for me to take a seat on one of the plastic chairs.

I pick a red chair near the board.

"So what is that you guys really do?"

"I told you," Dabi says. "Special services to people willing to pay up."

Given where we are, that suddenly feels a lot more sinister than it did when he first told me.

I look back at the knives and jars in the background.

"So like, a gang? Where you steal things and hurt people if someone pays you enough? Like the movies?"

"Guess you could put it that way."

"And there's actually people that pay for this stuff?"

Dabi shrugs. "It's a niche market."

Woah.

There's a lot more questions in my head, but now is not the time. Maybe later.

As Dabi moves to take a seat, his abdomen brushes against the edge of the table and he hisses in pain.

It releases blood again.

"Fuck!" He grips the skin.

I move closer to him, gripping his hands again. "It still hurts?" I ask worriedly. "Is there anything we can do?" I look around at the others quickly.

"Yes!" Toga says, a little too eagerly.

"What is it?"

She hops over to knives behind us, and takes a moment deciding which one she wants.

She brandishes a short but sharp blade and lets out an excited squeal, as though she enjoyed this.

"Fire please!" She calls out.

What's she doing?

Dabi groans and pulls a lighter out of his pocket. He tosses it toward her, and she carefully holds it under the edge of the blade, running it up and down for several minutes until it turns red.

She's going to seal the wound so it doesn't get infected.

"Lie down, boss," She says in a sing-song voice.

I clear the few papers were scattered on the table and move so Dabi could spread himself over it.

He lifts the edge of his shirt to his midriff, and my breath catches in my throat when I see his abdomen.

The skin is covered in large swaths of reddish purple.

Like parts of it were burnt off...

I gasp.

"These are old," Dabi looks at me. He's watching me carefully, wanting to see just how I'd react. "Still want to be here?"

I swallow my anxiety as I stare at Dabi's mismatched skin. I won't give him the chance to say 'I told you so.'

This must be why he wouldn't let me dress the wound.

He didn't want me to see this.

No wonder the stab didn't phase him.

What else has his body been through...

"Here I come!" Toga grins.

She was all too eager to take the scorching knife and press it to his stomach.

Dabi clenches his teeth immediately, leaving me to hurriedly stand next to him. I squeeze his hand to soothe him, but he grips mine back so hard I think he might break it.

I brush his hair out of eyes and press my hand to his forehead to calm him.

"It's okay," I tell him softly. "It's over."

The others stare at Dabi's wound uncomfortably, like they've been under Toga's knife before.

I wonder if they have similar wounds.

Dabi releases his harsh grip on my hand and begins to breathe slower.

One things strikes me though.

Despite all the pain he's undoubtedly feeling right now, not a single tear drops from his eyes.

I think it might just be him trying not to appear weak in front of us.

But as I look into his eyes, I'm surprised to find them completely dry.

"Are you superhuman or something?" I joke with him.

He looks at me quizzically.

"All of that and you didn't cry?"

Dabi closes his eyes. "I don't cry." He grits his teeth.

I roll my eyes.

Whatever you say.

The others slowly help him sit up straight. I take the first aid kit from Atsuhiro, picking out the cotton, gauze and antibacterial wipes.

Dabi is less reluctant when I try to wrap the area this time.

"You can hold onto me if you want," I tease as I wrap the gauze around his body.

A small smirk appears on his lips. His arm suddenly snakes around my waist, pulling me close to him.

I blush and the gauze falls out of my hands.

Dabi tilts his head. "What's wrong? Thought you wanted me to hold onto you?"

The guys snicker behind us.

I push him away from me, and he laughs as I take another piece of gauze and try again.

"You guys can talk now," I tell them focused on what I'm doing. "What exactly happened today?

Did Mr. Lane find out about the League? Is that what made you a target?"

Dabi is silent.

His silence puzzles me. I look to the others to see if they knew anything.

"Dabi tried blowing up his car!" Toga volunteers.

I frown.

Could this be just because of how Mr. Lane treated me?

No. There's no reason for it to mean that much to Dabi.

Enough to get angry, sure.

To harm Mr. Lane?

Doubtful.

"Why would you blow up his car?" I ask.

Tenko pulls up a chair. "We did some research on him. He's working with some really shady people. And Dabi told us about the whole Todoroki affair."

I shoot Dabi a look.

"They're trying to trick people into thinking they're heroes. That they should be put on a pedestal and admired. There's people out there telling their kids to be like them. Meanwhile they're going around-"

"Enough," Dabi interrupts Tenko. "Point is, they're fakes. They built up their media empires off that fake image. And we're going to expose them."

"But you guys are also doing...you know," I don't know how to say it in a way that isn't offensive. "I mean, you tried blowing up his car. And I'm guessing you probably have done more...if I'm not reaching."

Their eyes harden.

"We never pretended to be good."

I know I should stay silent, but I keep going.

"Right, but you have a double image too. There's the Blaze, and then there's the League."

They shake their heads.

"The Blaze is to funnel money into the League. Yeah, sure it's a front, but those who need our services know where to find us. We can't have masses of people finding out about the other shit we do, can we?"

"But how did this all start? What are you trying to achieve?"

"We just hate hypocrites. We'll help a bad guy to bring down a worse guy. Those that act like angels in public are our favorite targets. I don't care if we have to steal, blackmail, or kill them," Dabi's eyes shine with evil. "Whatever it takes to beat their egos down. Reveal the private faces they hide. Until they're forced to show their bloody hands before the world. Someone like Enji is using Lane for media coverage. Lane is depending on him for protection and cash. We can take them both down."

"What if you get caught?"

He dismisses the question, like it's not even worth his time. "By who?" He scoffs. "Lane? As soon as we take down Enji, Lane's done for. Since he's your old boss, we can give you leeway with how badly you want us to go after him." Dabi says this like that's what I'm genuinely concerned about right now. "Lane's a scared little prick anyway, as soon as he saw me he bounced out of the car and screamed for protection." He laughs like he can picture Mr. Lane's pathetic position as we speak. "But he'll fall. Just like the rest of them."

"I meant the police, Dabi."

The question puzzles him as if he's never considered it before. But the look in his eyes tells me they're even less of a concern than Mr. Lane.

"Don't worry about that," He says. "That's the least of our problems, to be honest."

I nod.

I let them speak uninterrupted for the rest of the night. They have business to take care of, and if I keep asking questions like this, they'll never get to finish. It's enough that they waited all day for me to leave so they could start. Can't hold them up at night as well.

The Todoroki name was brought up several times, among others. It seems strange now, considering Dabi knows it was Mr. Lane's relations with Enji that led to me leaving the company the way I did. Turns out he knows a lot more about Enji than I do.

I try to keep track of the other names as well, but there's so many and I'm so tired, I can barely keep up.

"Here's where Rina comes in," Dabi continues.

My eyes widen at the mention of my name.

"Enji's using Lane for his image. Rina, you said they were working on a movie or something?"

"A documentary, yes."

"We need to make sure that shit doesn't air."

I bite my lip, trying to remember as much information as I could about the documentary. It was supposed to air already. I remember Mr. Lane saying it would be within the month.

But it hasn't yet.

Which means I need to find out more from Al.

"My roommate still works at NNTV. She's the floor manager so she might have some idea of what's going on. I can ask her."

"You sure you can trust her?" Dabi asks with a frown.

"Well, I'm not gonna tell her any details, she's the one that's gonna need to have trust in me, no?"

Atsuhiro cracks his knuckles and rubs his neck. "I don't know, I don't like the sound of that. We have our own ways of finding stuff out so-"

"It won't hurt to try," I insist, looking at Dabi since he's the one that has final say on these matters. "Having 2 avenues of information is better than 1."

Truth be told, I just want to feel useful. I want to feel like I have a role to play, not just that I'm here to "sit and watch".

I want them to feel good about me being here, not apprehensive about whether this was a good decision.

After some deliberation, Dabi sighs. He looks to the others for input. "Might as well?"

"I mean she's here," Tenko says monotonously. "Might as well use her."

Dabi nods and then turns to me. "Just don't be stupid with it. Lead her into the conversation, don't bring it up out of nowhere. She'll be curious about why you're bringing it up. Don't say anything that'll make her ask questions. The more questions she asks you, the more suspicious she'll be."

"Relax guys, I got this." I smile. "Besides, she's a chatterbox. She'll open up at the slightest nudge and go on forever. She's the one that told me about all the.." I grimace. "..issues with the Todoroki company."

Plus, she's my friend! Of course, I can trust her. We've been roommates for years. If anyone could tell me about Mr. Lane's current plans for the documentary, it'd be her.

"So it's settled!" Toga claps. She takes a marker and goes up to the white board, drawing a flow chart with all that's been discussed today. She adds my part last, circling my name and underlining it several times for emphasis, over a big red INTEL SOURCING.

The sight of that makes me smile, like I have a role to play in all of this. I look around at the others but they're all preoccupied with moving things around and discussing their own parts.

The lack of enthusiasm isn't surprising, I mean this is normal for them.

But all I can think of is how exciting it'll be if I have something to contribute the next time we meet. If they'll call me down, and look at me expectantly. I imagine the looks on their faces with glee and the thought almost makes me giddy.

"Okay, are we done here?" Dabi asks.

A bunch of 'yes'es and 'yup's fill the basement.

"Alright then," Dabi grabs a leather jacket from on the wall and checks to make sure his keys are inside. Then he walks my way and grabs my arm.

"Time for you to go home," He says, moving me in front of him.

"But-"

"Now," His eyes narrow. He moves his head in a silent nudge, telling me to turn around and make my way upstairs.

The others watch us curiously, and Toga lets out a snicker at my expense.

"I'm jealous!" She calls after us. "Wish I had someone to drive me home!"

Dabi groans, nudging me to keep moving.

"Bye guys," I wave back at them from halfway up the steps. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

They all wave warmly and I can't help thinking how grateful I am that they trusted me with this.

It feels so weird emerging out of Dabi's office like this, from a secret path that leads deep under the building. But Dabi simply presses another tile in the walls, and the entrance reseals itself, as though it never existed.

We make our way to his car, and I hurry to catch up to him. The height difference certainly doesn't help.

He unlocks the car and slides into the driver's seat. I follow into the passenger's seat and shift awkwardly in my place.

"Where do you live?" He asks as he readjusts his rearview mirror. No sooner had I told him the address, than he revved the engine and sped away from the Blaze.

The ride is quiet for a while. Regrettably so. Dabi hands me a box of disinfectants to wipe the blood off my hands. I wonder how many times he's had to do the same thing before coming into the office.

I fiddle with the hems of my shirts as I try to think of something to talk about. Dabi doesn't seem to be in as big of a rush to speak, his eyes darting from the rearview to the side mirrors periodically as we cruise down the mostly empty highway.

"Dabi?"

"Hm."

"When they said you were gone today, were you really in the basement the whole time?"

Dabi takes a moment to answer. "After I got back, yeah. Couldn't exactly walk through the front doors looking the way I did." He glances at me before switching lanes.

"Were you avoiding me?"

"Partly."

I nod. "Now that I know about the League, do you think you'd avoid me in a case like this again?"

"A case like this won't happen again."

"Okay." I respond quietly. "Cause you know I get worried."

Dabi seems to be deep in thought.

"You worry a lot for someone who's only met me a month ago."

I smile. "Well, of course. We're friends aren't we?"

Dabi spares me a look before switching lanes again. "Right." But he doesn't look like he fully believes me.

"You think you'll be able to handle your friend?" He changes the subject.

"Who, Aliyah? Of course! I told you, we're really good friends and she's the kind of person that loves gossiping anyway. It'll be a piece of cake."

He grunts. "Okay. Because to be honest, that's part of why I wanted you at the Blaze."

I don't know why hearing that makes me feel slightly sad, but it does. "The documentary?"

"Yeah. I mean you work in the media industry. You'd know about that stuff. People like Enji have the industry wrapped around their palms. When you told me he was cozying up to NNTV, I figured you'd be the person to handle all of that for me."

I nod. "So why haven't you asked me before today?" Come to think of it, he even sounded reluctant about agreeing.

"I don't know," He sighs. "Still not sure I want you mixed up with all of this."

I roll my eyes. "I'm not even a member, remember? I'm just getting information for you," I tease. "What's so dangerous about that?"

"That's what worries me," Dabi glances at me, his brows pulled together. "That's all you see it as."

"What am I supposed to see it as?"

"What it is," Dabi gets increasingly agitated, but he tries to keep himself calm. "I'm not sure you're taking this seriously enough, Rina. The closer you get to us, the more at risk you are. The more people that know you work for me, especially what kind of work," He looks dead serious. "The more danger you'll be in."

I roll my eyes. "But no one knows anything about you, Dabi. I've been here for a month and I'm only just finding out about all of this. And I'm sure there's much more I don't know. How would people outside of the League even find out?"

"Same way we find out shit about them. Lane's using his Todoroki connections to supply him with information and protection. They're good at what they do."

My mouth drops. "You mean the Todorokis know about you?"

"Well," Dabi's jaw hardens. "They think they do."

I wait for him to say more, but he leaves it at that. We ride the rest of the distance in silence.

Once we pull up in front of my apartment complex, I try to put a smile on my face.

"Thanks Dabi." I tell him as I unlock the door.

He nods without looking at me. "See you tomorrow."

Those words trigger me immediately and I let go of the handle.

"Don't say that."

Dabi looks confused.

"You said that yesterday and had no intention of seeing me." I cross my arms. "You broke your promise."

"Don't be dramatic, no one says that shit as a promise."

"See you tomorrow means I'll see you tomorrow," I tell him seriously. "Otherwise, just say goodbye or something else."

He leans his head forward against the steering wheel and sighs. "It's just a stupid phrase, you're overthinking it."

I frown.

"See you tomorrow," He gives up. But still, I don't leave.

"I mean it!" He says. "I. Will. See. You. Tomorrow. Good enough?"

I grin. "Mhm, thank you!" I lean over to give him a quick hug before I leave, and he immediately recoils, like my body was made of ice.

"Handsy, aren't you," He mutters, craning his neck to look at me, without getting too close.

I pull away.

"Always have to ruin the moment, don't you," I counter, slightly disappointed. I turn to open the door, and suddenly feel him pull me back in.

"How do you do that?" His voices comes out low and raspy.

I look into his eyes. "Do what?"

There's that frustration in his eyes again.

"Fucking making me feel bad about shit I'd never fucking feel bad about." He growls.

The way he says it makes me blush.

"Cut that shit out."

"Yes sir," I mumble.

He leans his head back.

Then, he hesitantly opens his arms.

I shake my head, pulling my purse over my shoulder again. "Not gonna force you to do something you don't want to do."

I open the door this time, and just as I'm about to step out of his car, he pulls my arm again - harder this time, and I fall back into the bend of his arm.

My heart is pounding faster. I shake my hair from my face to get a better look at Dabi in the dark.

"Why are you so much fucking work," He mutters, his face inches away from mine. I swallow.

He leans forward to hug me closer to his chest. The leather jacket feels surprisingly smooth against my cheek, and my hand finds the back of his seat to balance myself, careful of coming near his wound. He holds me to him for a few long breaths and I smile against his chest, knowing he can't see me right now.

When we pull away, I look at his face once more. But Dabi avoids my gaze.

"You don't have to play along with me," I tell him, a teasing smile on my lips. "I'll only expect more from you next time."

"See you tomorrow," He mumbles, still without facing me. His foot is on the brakes but he's already pulling the gear shift into Drive.

And then, just before I leave for good and with no time to think this through -

I press my lips on his cheek.

Dabi's eyes widen immediately and he looks at me in alarm. "What-"

"Bye Dabi!" I wave with a laugh as I hurry out of his car. I run to the door of my building, grateful for the dark to hide my red cheeks.

Dabi remains in front of the building for a moment, his head still turned my way in shock.

I close the door behind me but hurry to the window, peeking the corner of my head out just in time to catch him shaking his head and rubbing a tired hand across his eyes.

There's no way to describe the relief and warmth in my chest, when he eventually pulls out of his spot.

But just before he can drive off, I swear I feel him smirk at the window.

As if he can hear the adrenaline thrumming in my veins.

[spicycreativity]

Soft-Shoe Shuffle - Ch 10

Chapter: 10/12 Additional Notes: See Ch 1 for more information. Read on AO3 under "WizardGlick." Any formatting/italics errors are holdovers from AO3 that I was too lazy to fix. Chapter Content Warnings: N/A; ask to tag Excerpt: "I'm the scary one," Remus muttered in Janus' ear. "Not you. So don't ever scare me like that again, okay?" Janus considered the humor-to-consequences ratio of falling limp in Remus' arms and decided it wouldn't be worth it. "I won't."

If it all falls down, falls down, falls down

I can warm a crowd, I can make them shout

I can juggle verbs, adverbs, and nouns

I can make them dance 'til they all fall down

Janus woke up exhausted, which really wasn't fair considering the amount that he'd been sleeping lately.

Someone was stroking his hair, which was nice. Probably Remus. Remus wouldn't care that Janus' hair was stiff with dried sweat and that he hadn't brushed his teeth in who even knew how many days.

He shifted and nuzzled Remus' thigh.

Realization dawned slowly. Remus' nails were longer than this, Remus didn't smell like this, Remus had never sat still like this.

Janus couldn't even bring himself to be embarrassed at the mix-up. He was too tired and sore to really care who was petting his hair like this.

Except that it was probably Patton.

Subconsciously, Janus pulled the teddy bear closer to his chest. It had to be subconscious, because he would never cuddle a stuffed toy on purpose.

Janus opened his eyes.

Patton withdrew his hand like he'd been burned. "I'm sorry," he said, cheeks coloring. "Did I wake you up?"

Janus shook his head. His skin still tingled where Patton had touched him and he wanted it back so badly , but he didn't know how to ask.

"Remus made me promise I'd go get him next time you woke up. Well. Logan made me promise. Remus threatened me. Anyway!" Patton was already halfway to the door.

He was gone before Janus found his voice. "Don't go," Janus whispered to the air.

A moment later, Remus came barreling in with Logan in hot pursuit. Then came Virgil, then Patton again, and finally Roman.

Logan lunged forward to try to catch the back of Remus' shirt, but he was just a split second too late. Janus braced for impact, but Remus only fell on his knees by the bedside and pulled Janus into a tight hug.

"Awww," Patton cooed from the doorway.

"I'm the scary one," Remus muttered in Janus' ear. "Not you. So don't ever scare me like that again, okay?"

Janus considered the humor-to-consequences ratio of falling limp in Remus' arms and decided it wouldn't be worth it. "I won't."

Remus pulled back and made a lewd hand gesture. "Scout's honor?"

Janus manipulated Remus' fingers into the correct position and held his own hand up as well. "Scout's honor."

Remus nodded in apparent satisfaction, so Janus grabbed his shoulder and used it to haul himself upright. Virgil and Patton fidgeted by his desk while Roman leaned against the doorway and Logan hovered behind Remus.

"Well," Janus said, trying to sound better than he felt. "As you can see, I've died. Virgil will handle my estate, so please direct your concerns to him."

"Like I want all your pretentious steampunk crap," Virgil mumbled, looking around at the leather and brass and hardwood.

"It's art deco," Janus and Logan said at the same time, albeit with very different intonation.

Janus squinted at Logan, who seemed to take this as his cue to speak. "You need to eat something."

"Like a dick!" Remus crowed.

Janus sighed, expecting an uproar, but nothing more dramatic than general collective eye-rolling and awkward throat-clearing occurred in response.

Logan carried on, "Something light like chicken broth or dry toast." He cocked an eyebrow, indicating that this was a question.

"Goodness, however shall I choose," Janus said, trying and failing to keep the venom out of his voice. He did better on stage than he did under a microscope, yet here everyone was, studying him. It was all he could do not to squirm.

Patton's voice echoed in his ears suddenly:

He never asks for anything, he just talks around it until you figure it out on your own.

"Could you…" Janus balled both hands into fists. "I want…" He squeezed his eyes shut and expelled a breath through his nose."I just love that you're all in here staring at me. It's not awkward at all. " He fixed his gaze on the ceiling, only just managing to hold back a frustrated curse. Another failure. Another reason for the others to go back to hating him.

"Oh, gosh!" Patton said, but he didn't sound hurt or angry. "We're sorry; it's probably overwhelming to have us all in here at once, huh?"

Janus nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The feeling had grown uncomfortably familiar as of late.

"We'll let Logan look you over," Patton said. He shuffled out of the room after Roman, waving for Virgil to follow him.

Remus winked and wiggled his tongue at Janus. "Have fun playing doctor." He bounded out and shut the door behind him.

"So," Janus said, fidgeting with one of the teddy bear's ears. "He and Roman can stand to be in the same room as each other now?"

"It helps that they were both quite worried about you," Logan said. A pause. "As was I." He preoccupied himself clearing off a space on Janus' nightstand, willing a plate of dry toast into existence, then methodically taking the cap off a bottle of Gatorade and inserting a white bendy straw.

"Plastic straws are killing the sea turtles, you know," Janus said.

Logan looked at him, puzzled. "Rest assured, this one will not and indeed, cannot find its way into the water supply." A moment later he said, "Oh. You were making a joke."

"It's polite to laugh."

"Please excuse my rudeness, then."

Janus smiled. "I think Remus likes you," he said to cut the tension.

Logan tilted his head at the nightstand. "Why?"

Janus took the hint and began pulling the crust off a piece of toast. "I just have a feeling."

"Hm." Logan thinned his lips, but did not press the issue.

"Logan?"

"Yes?"

"What happened? When I was…"

"Incapacitated?"

"Sure."

Logan pushed up his glasses. "You were in a state of delirium for approximately five days. What is the last thing you remember?"

"Clearly? I had a conversation with Patton about… certain choices I had made in regards to Roman." Logan raised an eyebrow but did not interrupt. "It gets hazy after that. You and Patton were in my room, I think. And… I'm not totally sure this happened, but I seem to recall trying to apologize to Roman."

Logan nodded. "You did. Then you fainted in his room, and the ensuing chaos actually led to the temporary resolution of several interpersonal conflicts we had been experiencing."

"Just according to plan," Janus said, steepling his fingers. Logan didn't laugh. "Another joke."

"Please eat your toast."

"Alright, alright." Janus finished picking the crust off one slice and took a hesitant bite.

"Good." Logan nodded in approval. "To further answer your question, Remus has enacted a truce with Patton, Roman, and Virgil. Which essentially means that he agreed to 'tone down' his more distracting behaviors and the others would refrain from, ah…" Logan checked his note cards. "'Getting their strawberry-flavored edible panties in a twist'."

Janus nearly choked on his toast and made a hasty grab for the Gatorade. "How sweet."

"Yes, the sugar content of Blue Cherry Gatorade is regrettably rather high-- Oh. Yes, I suppose it was rather nice of everyone. Virgil also ceased his self-isolation for the sake of seeing you and talked a little about his feelings, as did Roman."

"Hmph." Janus shoved the rest of the toast in his mouth so he wouldn't have to talk. It had been his goal to fix everything, but not quite like this. Not at all like this, actually. He had become another piece on the chessboard, and not even a powerful piece like the queen. No, he was more like a bishop, moving laterally to move forward. And now he had no idea how to get what he wanted.

"Interestingly," Logan said. "I believe it was your involuntary display of vulnerability that led the others to treat each other more gently.

"I get it, I'm the hero," Janus said sourly. Hooray, he'd solved Patton's problems by running around like an idiot. How impressive.

"I was… I was trying to make you feel better."

Janus smiled despite himself. "Thank you. Really."

"Something is bothering you," Logan said. "I can't tell what it is. I had thought you might feel embarrassed, but you are handling matters very calmly, despite the fact that you have a tendency to raise your voice and lash out when agitated or threatened. This leads me to believe you are experiencing a different negative emotion, but I cannot identify what it is or why." Logan paused and cleared his throat, his eyes downcast. "This bothers me because you are my friend."

"I couldn't possibly be tired," Janus snapped, realizing a split second later he'd inadvertently proven Logan's point. "Oh."

Janus sighed and flicked over his metaphorical king, albeit in his own way. "I'm not thinking about all the ways a relationship with Patton could go horribly wrong."

"But you have a relationship with Patton--" Logan's eyes widened. "I see. Are you concerned that your feelings are unrequited?"

"Well, that and the opposite."

"I don't follow."

"Virgil told me that if I break Patton's heart, he'll break me . Literally."

"You're afraid of Virgil ?"

Janus ran his fingers over his temple and took in a breath while he waited for Logan to put the pieces together.

"You're afraid you'll hurt Patton."

"I'm not exactly known for my communication skills."

"Have you tried speaking sincerely instead of hiding your intentions with sarcasm?"

"No , the thought has never crossed my mind."

Logan smiled. "It was a joke."

Janus didn't hiss at him.

Logan continued, "I do think you should try to be honest with Patton."

"Easier said than done."

"But it can be done."

"I'll...think about it." Janus waved a hand to dismiss the topic.

[silverdriftdragon]

Forevermore

1500 words of DimiAshe fluff that slapped me in the face and stole my lunch money! :D

P.S. for those of you still waiting on requests, I apologize. I have not forgotten about you, just trying to fight writers block! Thank you for being patient with me

You can also read this on Ao3!

(I'll put a read more here when I'm on computer cause I can't get it to work on mobile!)

Ashe leaned on the balcony railing with a sigh, staring out across the still bustling streets of Fhirdiad. The place was so busy, even on a cold night like tonight… But this was nothing new. The cities in the Kingdom were always like this, especially the capital. Once upon a time down in the Gaspard region… He had to use the constant business to hide his acts of theft. It wasn't something he was proud of by any means… But he was only doing what he had to for he and his siblings to survive. A far cry from now, living in the palace in Fhirdiad, everything he could ever want or need handed to him on a silver platter. It was a bit overwhelming really… In fact, it didn't even feel real. Could someone like him really be-

"Ashe?"

The sound of his name made him jump slightly, snapping him out of his haze of self-doubt as he turned to face the source of that very familiar voice that he loved so much. "Ah… Your Majesty I-" He stopped and cleared his throat, shuffling on his feet as he realized his mistake. "Sorry. I guess I'm still not used to it…" Much to his relief, the king just chuckled and walked over to join him, shaking his head.

"We have been together for nearly two years, Ashe." Dimitri teased as he came to rest his hand on the railing. 

"I-I know. Two very wonderful years! But… I guess it's just…" He trailed off, looking back out across the city. 

"It's just what?" There was no reply, which told Dimitri everything he needed to know. He heaved a sort of sad sigh, looking down at his hands. "I see… This again."

"I'm sorry, Dimitri… I-I didn't mean-" Ashe started in a mild panic, turning toward the king. However, when Dimitri turned toward him and placed his hands on Ashe's shoulder… Ashe got quiet. The somewhat hurt look on Dimitri's made his chest tighten up and he wanted to apologize more, but he forced himself to stay quiet.

"Ashe, my beloved, it wounds me that you seem to think yourself unworthy of being here, being with me, just because of your past and the circumstances of your birth." His voice wavered some as he spoke, almost as if he were trying to to tear up. "What must I do to ease your mind? I want you to feel as happy to be here as your being here makes me…"

"No no no, I'm sorry. I'm very happy to be here. I am. Being here with you over the past two years have been some of the happiest days of my life in fact! But I… Am I allowed to be this happy? I'm nothing special, a commoner turned thief who just happened to wander into the right house one night…"

"Well… I'd argue that if I'm allowed to be king after all the atrocities I committed during the war, then something so small by comparison should not disallow you to be happy." The king gave a sort of sheepish chuckle. He was glad that Ashe didn't seem to have an argument and started to pull him into a hug when a biting northern wind swept by, causing the smaller man shiver. With a small smile, he let go and undid the clasps that held the heavy cloak he wore in place, walking around behind Ashe to drape it across his shoulders.

"Th-thank you…" Ashe mumbled, a content sigh sneaking out as he instantly snuggled into the warmth of it. A thought crossed his mind though that made him glance quickly back at the King, a slightly worried look to his face. "Oh! But won't you get cold, Dimitri?"

"I'll be alright as long as you will let me hold you close." He assured softly, chuckling as he wrapped his arms tightly around a now slightly flustered Ashe and resting his chin atop the shorter man's head. Silence fell between them for a moment as they stared out into the night, content to just be in each other's company until Dimitri spoke up again. "It's funny actually… After everything I did… I often wonder the same as you."

"Hmm?" Ashe looked up ever so slightly, peering up at Dimitri the best he could. "What do you mean?"

"Whether or not I'm allowed to be so happy." He began, his gaze fixed on nothing in particular. "I mean really… Am I worthy of this crown? Of the friends who stuck by me even in my darkest days? Am I truly worthy of you, a partner whose warmth and kindness is truly unmatched… Often I have asked myself these questions and more. Over and over again until I can think of nothing else. Though it's usually about that time that you come in and suddenly it's as if I have not a care in the world!"

Ashe gave a small, almost nervous chuckle, pink dusting his cheeks. "I'm glad to hear it. To know that I can quiet your mind like that…" the rest of the sentence seemed to fade into the aether as a warm, giddy feeling filled his chest. He didn't even notice when one of Dimitri's arms moved away.

"Hey, Ashe. I… Have something I need to ask."

This time, Ashe tilted his head back as much as he could so he could look up at his king, curious by the sudden nervous quality to his tone. "What is it? You know you can ask me anything at all!"

"Well…" Dimitri stopped, taking a deep breath to ground himself before leaning in to place a soft kiss on Ashe's cheek. While his partner was distracted with it, he moved his other arm back out in front of them. In his hand, a clearly custom made ring, simple but stunning. "Forgive me for springing this on you so suddenly but…"

Ashe looked forward and gasped, pulling away from Dimitri so he could turn and look him in the face. "Y-Your Maje- S-sorry! I-I-" He stopped to clear his throat quickly, a blush so deep across his cheek that it almost hid his freckles. "Di-Dimitri?!" His voice cracked some from shock, the look on his face matching. 

Dimitri just gave him a shy, but loving smile, reaching to take one of his partner's small hands into his own as he took a knee. "Apologies. Allow me to do this properly." Another deep breath to soothe his nerves and try to tame the excitement that caused his voice to tremble. "As a king...and as a wretch who claimed countless lives...I will build a Kingdom where the people can live in peace. I wish to change this world in my own way, one small step at a time. But… I know I cannot do this alone. That is why I want to ask you to… To walk beside me as I make this long and arduous journey. I love you and there is no one I would rather have at my side. So I must ask… Ashe, would you do me the great honor of standing with me as my husband, now and forevermore?"

Ashe was in total disbelief, shocked into silence. Here he was, a common born former thief, standing before the Savior King of Fodlan, who just got down on his knee and asked him of all people to marry him. 

"Please, I beg of you… Say something. Your silence is… Distressing." Dimitri pleaded after a few moments. "I-If you do not wish it just say so. I will face the truth and walk away…"

"Nonono please… I just…" He finally let out a small shakey laugh and shook his head, looking back to Dimitri with tears in his eyes. "Sorry, I'm… I'm kind of giddy. This doesn't feel real. To go from a life of stealing on the streets, to marrying a wonderful person like you… I'm struggling to even find the right words to say."

"So… You mean to say that…?" There was a raise in tone towards the end, hopefulness written all over his face.

"Y-yes! Of course, I… I love you too, Dimitri… and I want nothing more than to be with you for the rest of my life." In what seemed like a single fluid motion, Dimitri slid the ring on Ashe's hand and sprung up, scooping up his now fiance in a tight hug. Ashe let out a squeak of surprise, but eventually melted happily into the embrace. Except… There was one small problem. "Too tight…"

"Sorry! Sorry…" Dimitri sat him back down and let go, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "I got carried away."

"Quite alright." There was a pause between them as yet another rush of winter air tore through. Ashe clung tighter to Dimitri's cloak, trying to block out the wind. 

"Come, let us go inside. I would hate for you to catch a cold…"

"Says the one without a coat!"

Dimitri laughed and held out his hand. "Fair enough. Shall we?" When Ashe took hold, he smiled, bringing the hand to his lips for a small kiss before leading him back inside. Tomorrow, their engagement would be announced and the country would be in a delighted uproar… But for tonight? Tonight they would take the time to enjoy the calm before the storm.

[doodlelolly0910]

Close Encounters of the Spiritual Kind

Summary: Emma Nolan spent a lot of time alone, and that was fine by her. Because one is never truly alone. She should know. She can talk to dead people. What she didn’t expect was one of these spiritual encounters to hang around, taking her down a rabbit hole of missing women, revenge, and, least expected, love. Can she save the day and Killian Jones? Is there even another choice?

Read it from the beginning on AO3 and FFN!

A/N: This is it guys! This is the very end. I still can't believe it's over. I hope you guys liked it and I couldn't possibly thank you enough for reading and all of your amazing comments. Thank you also to @kmomof4 who has been invaluable during the whole process of writing this and just being an amazing support in general. And super huge thanks to the ever wonderful @courtorderedcake who created the beautiful artwork for this story. She deserves all the love. And away we go!

Epilogue

One year later

Killian Jones sat on his bunk and stared at the wall. The drab beige paint was peeling off the smooth concrete in several places, and Killian's mind began to imagine shapes in it, like one would imagine shapes while watching clouds. It had become a pastime for him, though he couldn't recall when it had begun. For the last year, his life had been reduced to a six foot by eight foot box, shared with another man called “Tiny”, though he was anything but. He didn't know where his cellmate was now, and he didn't care, his mind singularly focused. The slate gray polyester jumpsuit he wore felt stiff against the skin it touched, the thin white t-shirt underneath doing little to prevent the rubbing. He thought briefly about stripping it to the waist, but it wouldn't be much longer now.

The TV in the common area was tuned to a local news station, some of the older inmates having commandeered it for their recreation time, as they sat at a single table directly across from his cell. He couldn't see it but he could hear it, not that he was paying any attention. He scanned over the small space with sharp focus, ensuring that anything he had of value was tucked safely into the small box in front of him. Not that he had much. Just a few books, a couple of drawings and letters he'd received, a few plain, white shirts, nothing huge. The rest of them could fight over the remaining items he would leave behind for all he cared.

“And in other news out of Boston this morning, 62 year old Weaver Gold was sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole after a long and arduous trial,” the reporter on the TV proclaimed, causing Killian's ears to prick up. He turned his head slightly so he could better hear, but remained seated on the bunk. “Gold was charged with several counts of assault, kidnapping, murder, and human trafficking, among other violations. This story broke last year when former BPD Detective Emma Nolan headed an undercover investigation into the head of one of Boston's most dangerous criminal empires. More on this story at 11. Let's go to Jackie with sports. Jackie?”

Killian smirked. It was the least the bastard deserved after all the irreparable damage he'd done to countless lives. He looked around his cell, the cramped space, exposed toilet, bars lining the only exit, and for the first time, the sight made him smile. He couldn't think of a more fitting cage for a crocodile.

The year since Killian had been sentenced for “racketeering” (in reality, the cash laundering scheme he had used to keep his operation afloat was the only thing they could connect back to him) was served uneventfully, for which he was grateful. He kept his head down and stayed mostly to himself, making sure that nothing would delay his release. He had made a promise to go on the straight and narrow and he didn't intend to break it. The police were more than lenient with him considering his own criminal operation.

As part of a plea deal including delivering testimony on Gold, he had received thirty six months in a minimum security federal penitentiary, and Will had received thirty himself.  Jefferson had stayed true to his word and helped them get the best deal possible but with the way everything had gone south, prison time became inevitable. Will had been released after eight months with good behavior to serve out the rest of his sentence on parole, as far as he had heard. He was glad for it. Killian had just had a parole hearing of his own, but he wasn't expecting any such miracles.

Until about an hour ago when a guard had stopped by his cell and told him his parole had been approved. And now he waited. His head was filled with images of his last day of freedom. It had been one of the worst of his life. He had killed a man. Watched other men (and a woman) die. He'd been beaten, broken, tortured for hours. But the thing that stuck out to him the most was Emma's pale and lifeless form in his arms.

It had been Milah all over again. Maybe worse, for he couldn't recall a time his soul had physically ached until that moment, like it had known immediately that it was missing its other half. She'd saved him, not only from the bullet, but from himself. He hadn't expected to ever walk away from the dark criminal underbelly alive. But here he was. Maybe he was a survivor after all. He didn't intend to squander a single second Emma had given back to him.

“Jones,” a sharp, commanding voice barked from just behind the bars of his cell. He looked up to see two uniformed guards waiting for him, an older seasoned guard called Spinelli, whom he knew, and a rookie officer that had just started last week. Howard, he thought he recalled. “Cuff up. Time to go.” Killian stood and obediently slid his hand and stump through the slat in the bars, smirking at the look of exasperation on Spinelli's face.

“Problem?” he asked cheekily, his eyebrow quirking up his forehead, and the rookie had to stifle a chuckle in a less than convincing cough, earning him a glare from the older guard and a grin from Killian.

“Be right back,” Spinelli muttered and stomped off towards the pod exit, leaving the rookie and Killian observing one another in silence.

“So…” Killian extended the conversation to the young officer, leaning up against the bars.

“No talking, inmate,” he replied, underconfident authority in his voice.

“Come, now. Who doesn't bend the rules every now and again?” Killian grinned, his tongue nudging his canine tooth mirthfully.

“Is that how you ended up here? All the fun of bending the rules?”

“Touché, Howard,” Killian agreed.

“It's Hendricks.”

“My mistake, lad. Didn't see a nametag,” he said. The younger man flushed scarlet.

“I forgot it this morning,” he admitted.

“Ah. Bit of a rule bender yourself then, aye?” Killian said with a wink and Hendricks bristled. “Don't worry, I won't tell. You'll do alright here, lad. Don't let these bastards get in your head and you'll do just fine.”

“No talking, inmate. Back away from the bars,” snapped Spinelli, who had huffed his way back in front of his cell as Killian finished speaking. Killian rolled his eyes and backed himself towards the bunk again. “Open!” he called out to the command center. A loud buzz rang out and the bars clicked, Spinelli reaching out to hold them shut for the time being.

“Palms, er, forearms flat on the wall, inmate,” Hendricks commanded. Killian complied. This was the very last time he had to do this. Never again. He'd promised her.

After a moment, the bars slid open and Killian was being fitted with what was called “the sleeve”, a mesh wrap with metal buckles in the back that wrapped around his body and secured his stunted arm to his torso, rendering it immobile. He was dressed with a chain around the waist next, a handcuff around his good wrist and the other end secured to the chain. The chain connected to another that hung between his feet where ankle shackles were added and connected as well. Spinelli stepped back, giving him a once over with a nod and a grunt, satisfied with his level of restraint.

“There we are, all nice and subdued and ready to leave prison,” Killian quipped. A thrill shot through him as soon as the words “leave prison” had left his lips. The rookie suppressed another chuckle.

“Just walk, Jones,” Spinelli grumbled, seizing him by the arm and leading him from the cell. Hendricks followed with his box of personal effects.

As they walked down the corridors, men yelling, cheering and jeering at him, he couldn't help but feel… excited.

When he got here, he was fresh out of spending the first three months of his sentence in the hospital getting physical therapy on his shoulder, two weeks of which was spent with his fractured jaw wired shut. He’d been arrested before, but prison was an entirely different beast altogether. And yet it was nothing at all, compared to what he'd gone through with Weaver Gold.

The day he had shown up at the docks, he had been so sure it was the right move. He had gone to Smee's with Emma and obtained a gun that couldn't be traced back to either of them. The plan was to slip in and kill the man, consequences be damned for the rest. He never expected to make it out alive. He had been so close to making it happen when he made one wrong turn and ran smack into Malcolm and Perdu.

He had fought a hell of a fight against them, but the two men eventually overpowered him when Malcolm wrenched his shoulder from its socket. Once again, he had underestimated Gold's influence, by extension to his henchman. It was when he was presented to the man himself like a wrapped gift that he realized just how far he had actually underestimated him.

Gold had wasted no time in his fervor to make Killian suffer. He nearly rejoiced in it. As soon as he was sunk to his knees, Gold smiled, offering a quick ‘Hello, Jones’ and cracking him across the face with the gold handle of his cane. Hence the fractured jaw. The older man was stronger than his looks portrayed. From there on out, it was a series of blows with the cane and taunts with a gun, his gun usually. He wasn't sure how long it had gone on for.

Then Will was led through the door and his stomach twisted. If Will was there, Emma was no longer safe. He had held on to that last mangled little piece of hope that she was still locked up where he left her, even as Will took a similar beating to the one he had. Right up until Emma marched out from behind those crates and everything went to hell.

He clenched his jaw at the memory as the door buzzed to let him in to the discharge area. Spinelli left his side, taking the box and setting it on a dented metal table next to them, but Hendricks remained, and he opened a locker to retrieve a standard set of street clothes for Killian. Jeans, a gray sweatshirt, and a set of laceless athletic shoes were set on the metal table beside the box as Hendricks worked on getting him unbound.

“Strip,” Spinelli instructed as soon as he was free of his chains and the sleeve. Killian had never moved faster to take off his clothes in front of two men in his life. Hendricks set about gathering his discarded jumpsuit and underthings, shaking them out and inspecting them as Spinelli stepped back towards Killian, who stood, hand clasped over his stump before him, naked as the day he was born.

“Arms out, mouth open,” Spinelli ordered. Killian did so, reminding himself for the hundredth time this was the last time he would ever have to do this. Spinelli searched his mouth with a tongue depressor, eyes scanning over every inch of his body to make sure he didn't have anything hidden. As if anyone would sneak something out of prison, but he was sure stranger things had happened. “Squat and cough,” he instructed next. Killian set his jaw and did that, too. Spinelli nodded. “Get dressed.”

Killian did so and Hendricks walked around him, putting things away. Once he was dressed, he picked up the box with his meager belongings and waited. Spinelli scanned his ID card and the metal door opposite to the one they had entered through buzzed and opened with a loud clank. They reached another door at the end of a short hallway. When Spinelli opened it, daylight flooded in from beyond the floor to ceiling windows that lined the room.

People milled about on the other side of the glass, waiting for a visit or for someone to answer their questions. The door at the end of the glass lined hallway led directly outside. He walked between Hendricks and Spinelli and they waited for clearance at the end of the hall before he stepped out the door into the yard. The two guards escorted him to the fenceline and opened the gate.

“Well, gentlemen, I'd say it was a pleasure, but frankly, I hope I never see either of you again,” he said, only half joking. Hendricks did chuckle at that and even Spinelli offered him a begrudging smile.

“Best of luck, Jones,” the older guard said and Killian nodded in acknowledgement, his eyes already set forward and searching for his future.

Killian Jones took his first free steps in over a year out the front gate, simply taking a moment to breathe it all in.

The rumble of a familiar engine had his head turning in a second, just in time to see a small, yellow Volkswagen Bug pulling up to the curb. Sunshine colored hair and a flushed face popped out of the driver's side door and Killian couldn't have held back his grin if he’d tried.

Emma's brilliant green eyes set on him and she smiled.

“Somebody order a getaway car?” she asked, walking around the front of the car towards him. Killian didn't care who was watching. He dropped the box of things that didn't matter to the pavement and rushed forward to the only thing that did, scooping her up in his arms and sealing lips over hers in a kiss that took both of their breath away.

His arms looped around her waist and he lifted her, her head falling back and laughing as her hands found purchase on his shoulders. He spun them around, resting his forehead against hers, refusing to let her go, not that she was even trying to escape.

“Hi,” she murmured, reaching up to cup his cheek, her thumb stroking over his less than immaculately groomed beard.

“Hi,” he replied, nuzzling into her touch, still a little disbelieving that she was here, alive, in his arms.

Emma had coded twice in the ambulance once medics were able to get to her and three more times in surgery to repair the damage in her abdomen. The last time had been the closest call. The doctor had been ready to call time of death, but Emma's heart inexplicably started beating again all on its own. No one could explain it. They had called it a miracle.

It had been a long road to recovery for her as well, but if nothing else, Emma Nolan was a fighter. She had completed grueling amounts of physical therapy and mental health evaluations, but she had never wasted a single second with Killian. Phone calls, letters, visits every weekend (with accompanying one hour drive both ways), Emma never complained, and Killian wouldn't be where he was without her. In every way possible.

Emma was released from the police force shortly after the incident, before she had even come home from the hospital. They had cited “medical reasons”, for which her resumé was grateful, but she had broken so much procedure it wasn't like she hadn't seen it coming. The women she saved had been worth it. Will was worth it. Killian was worth it. She and Will had set out to found a nonprofit for missing people, a sizeable donation from one Ivy Belfrey getting them off the ground, and she was happier now than she had ever been.

“You can't park there!” a voice shouted at them and they both turned from their embrace to see a stern looking woman in uniform on a golf cart motioning to her car. Emma waved at her in understanding as Killian set her back on her feet.

“Ready to get out of here?” she asked.

“Aye, my love,” he replied with a grin and another quick kiss.

“It's just you and me now.”

“I wouldn't have it any other way, agrà.”

The two got in the car and drove away, the scent of sea salt and jasmine following them on the breeze.

And when she brought him home to meet Ruby, the force of nature that was her best friend may or may not have actually passed out seeing the man from Emma's sketchbook come to life. But that was a discussion for another day.

[machaaoo-blog]

Most likely to become an AO3 if it is as liked as I hope it to be.

Multi-chapter

Bad Lemons (Rated M) - Drugs, violence, language, etc.

It will have very touchy subjects that relate to very serious problems such as addiction and mental health -- if you can't handle it please don't read! (It'll come up in future chapters if I continue)

Description: Living it rough can really change a person, for better or worse. She became strong, bold and unbothered. Nothing could shake her back into a world full of untrue realities.

Fallin' Out

Chp 1 - Walk

"Where is Mina?" She hated waiting, she hated the train station even more. It's loud and obnoxious, which regularly interrupts her sleeping schedule. She would usually settle for a nice bench in the park or even the sidewalks that lead through a deserted alleyway; sadly both were taken by others who had her current living situation or rats. She'd rather her chances living amongst the rodents, maybe even be blessed with their sickness for the rest of her sad life than go back to a broke home. Of course she had other ways or options to get out of this predicament, she's full filled them, yet she never got the pay she deserved. Her welfare officer had an utmost disdain for her existence. He had and would go to lengths to make her life harder, and therefore couldn't be trusted. Then again her worse enemy yet had to be the people who she lived with: a drunk for a step father and a whore of a step mother, not to mention her elder step brother who doesn't pay a lick of rent allong with his crack sniffing wife. The female laid her head back abit and let out a single, "Fuck." How could she get adopted into their family, where the hell was child protective services when you needed them?!

She rubbef her bruised up limbs and does her best not flinch, and doesn't even bother to spare a glance at her wounds. She doesn't have enough bandages for that mess. Placed her pink fingertips on her cheek which was a mix of green and purple. She paid it no mind though. Not that she ever cared too much, but she why stress the luxury of caring about your appearance? Initially, even as a child, she always presumed that what truly mattered more than anything else about a person is personality. Hypocritically, however, she couldn't care less about either. Right now all that seemed to be on her mind was getting through her problems, with or without help.

You could say this makes Uraraka Ochako a rebellious teen. But yet that's not the case. She'll go wherever as she pleases, but she evades at all costs in the name of self-preservation. Put yourself in her shoes. How can someone last a day with her mentally unstable home? Truthfully when she was adopted into it, everything was dandy, until they went into a debt things just seemed to get out of hand. So she left and decided to break free, they never look for her, so who cared?

Ochako glanced up the clock. Though her chance to escape this time would depend on Mina's miraculous connections and genius planning, her fate rested in her best friends hands.

With a sharp inhale she slaps a bandaid on quickly and smooths it out tightly on the bridge of her nose. Placing her hand on the edge of the sink she looks up at her reflection. Curvaceous, petite, ghostly pale skin with contrasting pink cheeks with cuts and bruises scattered all over. She rolled her eyes and became resolute. Opening the door, then spamming it closed, she made her way out the bathroom she walks towards the bench, but is immediately halted when she sees a guy sitting in it. Her eyes narrow. A tall guy at that. Broad-backed with weird sand-blonde hair, why is it so...spiky? She stuffs her hands into her pockets and sits opposite the bench on the far side of the station waiting for him to leave. She wants to dictate it as a personal problem, but if he's depressed...well then she supposes he won't he moving a muscle any time soon meaning won't be getting her bed back for a long time.

20 minutes had passed and it was already 8:30am and he finally left his seat when a certain green haired boy hoisted Sparky off his heavy ass. They were total opposites and Ochako choked on her spit when the blond suddenly bitch smacked the other boy while both boarded the train.

"Ochako, it's me~!" Mina shouted, waving her small pink hands side to side.

"A private school...U.A? Mina, I know you see me as some Fallen Angel who could possibly be saved but they would never let me step foot on their grounds." Ochako placed her hand on her chest and gave a sly smile, "Look at me, all bruised up because some punk wouldn't lend me a light and look at him now." She pointed at the park bench across from them, "Knocked his ass out straight and now I'm stuck with his lighter that doesn't even work."

"I'm just trying to help you and give you a better life, Ochako. As your only friend take my offer. You know there's nothing for you here and you also know you have allot of pent up pride- let it go, and just come with me to U.A."

Ochako tilted her head to the side, her expression softened by the smile of Mina, her best friend.

°°°

"Ochako." She states. The receptionist looks up at her through her glasses with a look that says a first name like that wouldn't even slightly cut it at such a high-class school. The woman does some typing, and looks at the computer with no change of expression. This school held some of the finest and wealthiest, Ochako was out of her eliminate.

"Come with me."

Ochako followed behind the lady, her eyes looking out the school widows once in awhile to spot preppy teens. Even amongst the worst schools she's attended the students stuck out and looked different, they dressed and did as they pleased. Though her past schools were practically full of fights and no learning, gosh how she missed those days where her small gang ran amuck, when she felt empowered and dominating. She let of a tsk, it still felt that way, but those people she once addressed as family were quick to turn their backs. Clearly everything here is different from what she is used to. Designer brand bags, diamond watches and shoes she couldn't touch with her commoner hands. These damned rich kids all looked alike, she couldn't tell any apart, they all owned the same type of fashion and don't get her started on all the goop plastered on the female students faces. "Yuck." She stuck her tongue out at the window before entering another room with the serious, quiet receptionist.

°°°

Katsuki growled. "Aren't you supposed to be helping out the teachers or some shit?" She laughs as he intercepts her lips and responds immediately in the most favorable way. He pushes her against kitchen table, and slowly presses onto her receiving a deep moan in the process. She looked up at him with a gaze full of lust and want. "Who cares, someone else is can take care if it for me." She whined, pulling out out a condom with a smirk.

°°°

Ochako stared at her I.D with a look of disgust. Mina on the other hand slapped her knee and held her stomach, laughing like her life depended on it. "You look so ugly! EWW!" Mina pointed at the picture, "You flenched and your eyes are barely open!" She cackled. Ochako slammed open the window and held her arm back, "To hell with that." But before she could launch her arm and send that I.D flying Mina grabbed her arm. "Calm down, we got things to do, We gotta get you to your room."

"Well then take me to my room, please."

"But wait we gotta capture this moment!" Mina pulled out her phone and jumped back, getting on her knees and began to tap, flashes going off blinding the poor Brunette who stood before her.

"M-Mina please, my eyes-" Ochako placed her hands out covering the camera which signaled to her friend to stop; which, she did. "I wish you wore something cuter though." Mina pouted as she went through her photos, "You always wear the same thing Ochako."

And she wasn't wrong, her wardrobe was small, she never owned anything more than a phew shirts, jeans and underwear. Why by hundreds of dollars of clothes when she just needed seven pairs to last her throughout the week.

"What's wrong with how I look?"

"Well," Mina coughed, as they began to walk, "For starters...."

Ochako had wore the basics: A red baseball cap, a grey top and loose jeans that bagged from her waist abit to reveal her boyish underwear. Don't even get Mina started on the belly button piercing and tattoo. (which is located on her right arm, a whole sleeve so she constantly wears long sleeves when needed.)

"Alright but Mina remember you wanted to get these body modifications with me? And remember what you did? You chickened out because of your dad." Ochako placed her hand on her school dorms door, "You can't criticize what I wear either because you know I'm poor as shit." She unlocked the door and Mina stood behind her, a constant sorry escaping the pinkettes mouth, she opens the door, and stops in her tracks.

The sweaty bodies laid on the kitchen table, the blonde held a tiny naked waist with one hand whilst tugging at her short blonde hair. Ochako rose an eyebrow at the scene, this timing was horrible because those two were at mid-climax.

"Ah, yes! Katsuki-"

The blondes head falls in between the crook of the males neck. Her feet had become weightless.

"Ochako? Can we go in alrea-" Mina stops as she makes her way to the entrance. Ochako held her arm out from keeping Mina from entering any further. It finally took a few seconds for the two sexually tensed weirdos to notice the presence of two others.

"W-what are you doing here? Mina?!"

"What do you mean, what am I doing here, Toga?!" She shouted and covered her face, seeing a half naked Bakugou made the poor pinkettes hurl.

"Who the hel-" Toga was cut off.

Ochako walked into the room, unphased to see a naked man and woman, she lived in the streets and has seen this and much worse multiple times. Everyone in the situation just seemed to watch. As Ochako picked up their clothes she walked back to the nearest window opening it,

"This is my place, so get out."

Ochako threw their belongings out the window, their clothes slowly fluttering onto the schools dorm field. Toga and Katsuki grimaced, Mina slammed her forehead on the door and as for Ochako... well, she took a seat on the couch and flipped on the TV and began to watch animal planet.