#you wouldn't lift a finger to save my life otherwise!

[kibbits]

I love how last dnd campaign, the party "catchphrase" was:

Beeli and/or Lin: -casually and confidently states the wildest thing you've ever heard and agree with each other-

Jean, the only one with intelligence, baffled: .....I don't know how to even begin reacting to that..

And so far in this one it's:

Wailë and/or Luca: -casually and confidently state the most pathetic/tragic/dark thing as if it's common, squabble about it-

Tun'acan, very cheerfully, thinking about how much therapy they need: "Oh that's sad!!"

[pastorpresent]

Inspired by a lovely ask/prompt from @flower-majesty-anon, who asked for some deadclaws lipstick marking and mirror shenanigans with a sprinkle of angst:)) thank you so much my dear for the prompt!

Logan is panting hard into Wade's mouth, making desperate little noises everytime Wade thrusts into him. The sort of noises Wade wishes he could literally keep in a bottle, because they are fucking glorious - and he puts a lot of that down to the fact it's The Wolverine making them. Who would've thought he would dissolve so beautifully during sex? Sound so sickeningly sweet?

Wade could admit he was obsessed. Who wouldn't be? It's funny, because back in the Honda odyssey days, Logan would've swore up and down that he was not a bottom, and yet the first time he let Wade try, one otherwise dull Tuesday afternoon - about a month ago, a few weeks post world saving... well, Wade hadn't had a dick in his ass since, and Logan had become his own personal flesh light.

And Wade was a gentleman. He left it to Logan everytime to choose which half he wanted to be, and then silently squealed in delight as the man, Logan Howlett himself, would blush the prettiest of pinks and ask to be fucked open on Wade's dick.

Life did get better, kids!

Their sex was violent, and rough, and neither of them would have it any other way. How else were you supposed to do it when you finally find someone who matches your immortality and boner for being ripped into?

Honestly, despite what most people would likely think, Wade was just a tad more on the aggressive side than what Logan was. Of course that was only because most the time the older mutant was getting fucked so hard and edged for so long that he wasn't cohesive enough to fight, settling for lazy bites on Wade's neck that barely broke the skin, because he was rocked into a moan before he could finish the job.

Wade loved to mark Logan. Biting and sucking hickeys everywhere he could reach, the marks smeared with a little bit of blood. It meant Logan was his. All fucking his.

"Fuck," Logan breathed, grasping his shoulders to stop himself from being smacked into the headboard with the force of which Wade was hammering into his body, the tightness absolutely fucking delicious, hugging his dick perfectly. Jesus, he wanted to be inside Logan permanently. It was his happy place. Screw unicorns and waterfalls and meadows - the best place he could conjure up in his cesspool of a head was here, with Logan all sweaty and desperate beneathe him while he hammered his g-spot.

He leaned forward, catching Logan's lips in a brief kiss before moving just below his jaw, nosing at the skin, sucking hard, nipping with his teeth.

It drove Logan crazy, as usual. Wade felt him tighten around him, and the brunette gasped, lifting his chin higher. Always so beautifully accomodating and obedient. His Kitty.

By the time he was done ravaging at his neck, they'd both came, and Logan looked like he'd been mauled. In the best way, obviously. His neck was bruised, hickeys layered atop of each other like some sort of dirty collage. He looked gorgeous, sprawled out on the mattress, chest heaving, marked up.

After a minute or two of being collapsed in a sweaty heap together, Logan got up to go grab a towel. And yeah, Wade knows as the 'fucker' that really ought to be his job, but he was comfy lying in the mess of bodily fluids, and realistically Logan had the easier job! He just had to lie there looking pretty while Wade did the hard stuff. Ha, get it? Hard stuff?

Yeah, not his best, but there was something about a two hour sex marathon and orgasming a half dozen times that turned his brain a bit mushy.

He watched Logan go, said mush brain not quite awake enough to muster an ass comment, so he settled for just staring at it. He was heading for the bathroom, but Wade watched him pause at their mirror.

His fingers traced over the marks on his neck as they healed into nothing.

The expression on Logan's face was... sad, as he ran his hand over his bare neck and jaw.

He didn't say anything, moving to get the towel, and returning without mentioning it. He cleaned himself up first, and Wade watched. There was rarely silence between them, mostly because of Wade- Logan could probably not say more than single word every half hour and there still wouldn't be lues of silence.

When there was, it was comfortable. As it was, the current silence was because Wade was studying Logan, trying to get a read on his earlier reaction.

Did he not like the marks? They went away pretty quick, and he enjoyed the process of their creation well enough. Was it too much? They didn't really have any limits at all when it came to sex, because they could always sort of tell when the other wasn't into something, but he could've sworn Logan was into having his neck turned into some sort of crude rendition of Van Goghs 'starry night'.

Wade's train of thought was cut off by Logan cleaning his dick, his light touch too much for the very sensitive part of Wade's anatomy.

"You're too quiet," Logan said as he wiped down his chest, which was sticky with their combined release.

Wade took the towel from him and gently wiped Logan's eyebrow, where he'd missed the bit of come Wade had landed there on his third (fourth, maybe...?) orgasm.

"I'm not the one staring at themselves in the mirror like some teenage girl the morning after prom night," Wade replied, and yeah, maybe the humour was a bit of a defence mechanism here - because he was internally panicking over the idea that Logan wasn't into this, them, as much as he was, and worse still - he didn't feel comfortable enough to let Wade know.

Logan looked uncomfortable.

Fuck, dammit!

He couldn't lose this. Now he'd gotten a taste, he'd be a damn addict for Logan's skin and...

And he was the person who could make Wade feel fucking alive, for the first time since he went and got himself tortured into a damn freak. There was something about dying and regenerating over and over - you come back, breathing and solid, but it's like there was still a death rattle beneathe your ribs.

When he was with Logan, whether they be balls deep in each other or just eating fucking breakfast, that coldness dissipated. Quietened down into something Wade could conceivably ignore.

"It's nothing, just drop it," Logan muttered, but that had never been Wade's strong suit.

"Nope, tell me what's up or I'm never putting my dick in your sweet ass ever again," Wade slapped said ass, and Logan growled, cheeks going red.

"It's... fuckin' stupid, you'll just make fun of me," Logan scoffed, folding his arms over his chest and looking down at the bedding rather than Wade himself.

"If it's upsetting you it's not stupid. Come on babygirl, spill your guts to daddy," Wade purred, which only made Logan's glare intensify and the redness to spread down his neck.

He huffed a sigh, moving to get up, but Wade grabbed his wrist.

"No, hey, c'mon! I'll stop, I'll stop. Just tell me what's going on in that head of yours, peanut," he said, and Logan settled back on the bed, pulling one of their blankets around himself so he wasn't completely naked.

Wade didn't really give a shit about covering himself up, lying spread eagle on the bed still.

"Just... no fucking laughing, alright?" Logan gritted, and Wade nodded, "pinky promise," he said, holding out his pinky finger which Logan ignored.

"I like when you leave marks. I... I really, really like it, actually because it..." Logan's quiet voice trailed into silence in the room as he fidgeted, growling low in his throat as he grew frustrated at finding the right words.

"It makes you feel owned? Like you're mine, baby?"

Wade really wasn't mocking this time, reaching out to run a hand over the exposed skin of Logan's thigh, which earned him a full body shiver. Bingo.

"Uhm- I- yeah, and I know it's pathetic but I... I like it. I like feeling like I'm- I'm yours," Logan admitted, somehow even quieter.

Wade sat up, cooed softly and brought his lips inches from his kittys, lifting a hand to cup his cheek, "you're all mine, hm? All mine forever?"

Logan's expression faltered a little at that last bit, and Wade frowned, "so what's the problem, angel?"

"The marks don't stay. They dissapear too quickly and there's... there's nothing. No proof of it- and I know it's stupid, cos it's hardly like I could show up to work looking like... but it just gets to me a little, seeing them fade as fast as they do."

Logan's staring down at his lap, struggling to swallow around a lump in his throat, and Wade just wants to melt into a pathetic puddle, because he understood what Logan meant but also to have his lover genuinely upset that he couldn't show off the fact he was getting fucked rough and good every night... it was as hot as it was depressing.

"What if you let me take photos next time? We could keep them in the drawer, and whenever you need a reminder..." it wasn't a perfect solution by any means, and he planned to brainstorm something better, but it would do for now.

Logan smiled softly at the idea, but it looked like he was still a bit dissapointed, "sounds good."

Wade kissed him, soft, just lips, and swore he'd make it his mission to make Logan look like his in a more long lasting kind of way.

//

Logan felt utterly stupid.

Why the hell did he admit that shit to Wade?! He must think he's the most ridiculous, pathetic person on the planet - and Logan wouldn't blame him.

He'd admit he may have some... issues. Issues that make it so he needs to feel owned, because if not he just feels like he's floating without purpose.

And, well, nothing in his life seemed to last, generally speaking. The x-men were supposed to, once upon a time, before he let them be slaughtered. His quiet life in the mountains was supposed to, his relationship with Scott and Jean... but none of it ever did.

The only things Logan had come to know as permanent fixtures in his life were pain and, ironically, loss.

And maybe it was because Wade had literally pulled him up from the abyss of nothingness, but he really needed him to be permanent. Needed them to be permanent.

But everyday he'd watched the marks the merc would bite into his skin, cushioned by affirmations of appreciation and devotion and ownership, dissapear into nothing, leaving no trace behind as if they'd never happened at all.

It hurt. It broke him a little bit to watch them fade, because he couldn't lose this and he didn't need the very physical visual reminder that with just one stupid fuck up, he very well could.

He might have already, in all honesty.

They hadn't fucked in two days. Which to most, is nothing. For them? Well, Logan can only fuck himself alone on a dildo so many times in a 48 hour period, and he thinks he's on track to set the damn record.

Wade is sort of just dipping in and out the apartment, never around enough for them to kiss, nevermind fuck, and Logan feels like some girl with a crush, sitting around twiddling his thumbs and waiting on Wade to fucking notice him - or more accurately, to take him to their room and fuck him stupid.

By day three, he figures it's probably over. He freaked Wade out with his chronic neediness and instability, and he pulls up apartment listings and thinks about packing his shit. If he really has ruined this, he just needs to be gone. He can't drag it out, not this, not with what they have. It's too much, and if it's going to disappear, Logan isn't going to hang around and watch it fade like the marks on his neck.

He'd say he has too much self respect for that, but in reality he's just a fucking coward.

On day four though, he's woken up to kisses.

On his chest. His neck. His shoulders.

Soft lips pressing against his skin, and he blinks awake, squinting against the sunlight creeping between the gaps of their shitty curtains.

"Hmph," he breathes, and those lips kiss his jaw, teasing the corner of his lips, "morning, gorgeous," Wade's familiar voice breaks through the fog in his brain.

He glances down, and at first he's confused by the red painting his skin. He wasn't in pain, and Wade didn't tend to make him bleed unless he was a willing, conscious participant.

Then Wade came into view, and Logan realises the red, for once, isn't blood.

It's lipstick.

"What..." he frowns, lifting a hand and pressing his thumb lightly to the mercs red lips, which stretch into a smirk as he does. His thumb comes back the same shade of red.

"It won't be permanent," Wade says, kissing his jaw, nibbling a little in a way which makes Logan's back arch the tiniest bit, "but it will last longer, especially 'cos the lady in the store told me this one was a right pain in the ass for staining skin," Wade wiggled his non-existent eyebrows, and Logan stared.

Stared for a bit too long, probably, because Wade is lifting off of him, the tiniest dredges of embarrassment visible in his expression, "if you think it's weird, we can stop. I just thought-"

"Not weird," Logan interrupted, pretending the hoarseness of his voice was purely from just waking up, "I just... you thought about solutions? You... you went fucking lipstick shopping? Consulted the damn sales clerk? All for..." Logan trailed off, his throat suffocating on emotion.

"For you, babygirl. Anything for you, you should know that by now," Wade finished.

Logan is almost relieved when Wade returns to kissing his way around his body because at least he doesn't see the way his eyes well up just a little.

He gets lost in the feeling of Wade all over him, relishing in it, by the time the merc moves to his ear, biting playfully at his earlobe and leaving a smudge of red there too.

"I want you to see. Want you to watch me mark what's mine," Wade spoke low in his ear, and Logan felt his entire body shiver at the notion of it, knew Wade did too by the way his smile widened, in that annoyingly smug way it tended to when he discovered something about Logan that he'd prefer to stay hidden.

"You like that idea, sweetheart?" Wade hums, sickeningly sweet.

Logan keeps carefully quiet, but Wade isn't exactly one to drop things and if anything, his evident embarrassment only eggs the merc on.

"Nuh-uh, princess. If you want something, you gotta use your words like a big girl or daddy isn't giving you anything," Wade pulls back a little, an obvious threat, and Logan glares because even that, those fucking nicknames, did something to him that he didn't get. Drove him insane with a need that he didn't know he had until he met Wade.

Part of him was just overwhelmed and pissed, never really one to submit quietly - but while Al was a pro at getting the blood out, she couldn't do much if Logan slashed up the sheets into ribbons.

He bit his tongue hard enough for copper to fill his mouth, and when he spoke his gritted teeth were stained red like the trail left behind from Wade's lips, "please, Wade."

"Please what?" Wade pushed, tilting his head and grinning from ear to ear.

Asshole.

"I- I want..." he swallowed, exhaled.

"Want what, honey?"

"Want to watch. Want- want to see you marking me and fucking me, please," it all came out a bit rushed, but Wade seemed pleased regardless.

"Your wish is my command," and then Wade was moving off of him, but bringing him with- fingers intertwining as the merc guided him off their bed and in front of the full length mirror they had propped in the corner of the room. It was dirty, and cracked in the corner, but Logan still felt his breath catch when he caught his reflection.

The trail of red smudges up his neck, around his jaw, bright and stark against his skin.

Marks from Wade. Kissed deep into his very being, born from a devotion he didn't deserve - because honestly? All Logan had ever wanted was to be owned, claimed as somebody's, but he'd always been tossed out. A stray. Good enough to pet, but not good enough to keep.

'Girls flirt with the dangerous guy, Logan... they don't take him home'

At least no one had ever thought so until Wade.

Wade, who found him at his lowest and claimed him - even all the way back then. Gave him a home and a second chance at life, and then did all of this. Went and bought lipstick, because of some dumb little hangup Logan had. Did all of this for him.

The gratitude was overwhelming. His knees buckled, his throat impossibly tight, and Wade caught him with ease, adjusting them so most of his body weight was pressed against Wade's scarred skin.

"Need a break, baby?" Wade asked behind him, lowering them both to the floor, tugging Logan back until he was sat on his lap, his eyes still on their reflection as he leaned his head against Wade's shoulder.

He shook his head the tiniest bit.

"Good girl," Wade praised, the words going straight to Logan's achingly hard dick which was standing to attention against his stomach.

Begging for attention Logan knows it won't get, not yet anyways, because when Wade's in this sort of mood, his cock goes completely ignored while he focuses on-

Fuck, there it is. A finger teasing his hole, dipping in just enough to make Logan groan, thighs jolting, his head hitting back against Wade's shoulder with a dull thump.

"Love your pussy, princess. She practically pulls me in," Wade teases a second finger, and Logan can see how embarrassingly red he goes.

"Wade," he scolds, unable to manage much more, and it's mortifying anyway because instead of the gruff warning he intended, his voice instead came out all breathless and squeaky.

"What?" Wade asks innocently, "you want me to stop?"

And it's not a question, not in the way Wade asks it - because he already has his answer.

He takes his fingers out, dragging them up his torso, tapping Logan's bottom lip. Logan's jaw drops open so fast it clicks, and Wade slides the digits in far enough to make Logan gag.

He glares at mirror Wade, biting down a little in retribution, which just earns a chuckle from the man behind him, "wet 'em, babygirl."

Logan swirls his tongue around them, unable to stop himself from nibbling just a little, until they are soaked.

Wade pulls them out, moves them back down, and Logan lifts up a little so he can slide them in like before.

He let's out a startled sound when Wade shoves him forward instead, barely catching himself with his hands as he's forced onto all fours.

Wade thrusts both fingers in all at once, wriggling them deep until they are simply pressing against his prostate with the most irritating, feather soft touch.

Logan tries to push back onto them, but Wade smacks his ass, tutting loudly.

"Now, now! If you can't be good, daddy is going to tie you up and make you watch him jerk himself to the most disgusting porn imaginable, all while you get nothing."

That stupid nickname again. Logan couldn't speak, his brain seemingly offline, so he just sort of whimpered instead, struggling so much to stay still that his arms began to shake, every cell of his body begging him to start moving and fucking himself on Wade's stupidly good fingers.

"That's it, good girl," his other hand trails until it's cupping his chest, a thumb grazing his nipple, which makes Logan moan.

He looks away from the mirror, mortified seeing his face twisted up in pleasure. How the fuck does that turn Wade on?

Wade notices, because of course the fucker does. He's always so damn vigilant, but it's like it gets cranked up to a thousand during sex. Or fighting. But Logan would put money on the fact it's higher during sex.

"Watch yourself, sweetheart. Look at how pretty you look with my fingers inside you while I play with your tits," Wade says, and Logan reluctantly meets his own gaze in the mirror, which makes Wade coo with praise, "there's my pretty girl, you're a damn vision! And you're all mine, aren't you sweetness?"

Wade punctuates his point by leaning forward, draping himself over Logan's back. The switch of position drives his wriggling fingertips into his prostate for a second, and Logan very almost buckles to the ground. He kisses along the bare side of his neck, starting at the junction where his collarbone is, biting down hard enough to tear into muscle.

The blood blends in lovely with the red lipstick, and Logan is panting like a fucking dog in heat.

"Mine, all mine," Wade repeats, and it's like everytime he says that magical little word, something punches into Logan's gut in the best possible way.

He kisses up to his jaw, then over his cheek, his tongue dragging over the kiss marks and smudging them a bit, making them messy.

Wade grins at him in the mirror, and Logan would smile back but his lips seem frozen in a permanent 'o' position as he watches Wade leave marks. As he watches them remain on his skin.

"Wade- daddy," he whimpers, and for the first time probably ever, he's the one who renders Wade speechless during sex, watches as his pupils expand so wide his eyes are practically black.

Wade is still on top of him, until a punched out breath leaves his lungs, his eyes rolling back a little, "jesus, Lo. Fuck," he mutters, and Logan blushes but feels distinctly proud of himself.

"Gonna fuck you so hard your healing can't keep up princess," kisses over his spine, and when Wade shoves him down a bit more, forcing his back to arch, he can see the trail of red left behind.

"Please," Logan breathes.

Wade takes his fingers out, brings both hands up to bracket Logan's hips, holding him firmly in place.

There's no lube involved when Wade pushes into him, and it burns. The stretch burns him from the inside out, but it feels so fucking good.

"So fucking tight. You feel like a damn virgin, you been saving yourself for me, Wolvie?" Wade's normally steady voice sounds a bit wild at the current moment, as he finally bottoms out. Logan moans at the fullness, squirming a little, holding his breath.

"Except no- because no virgin moans like the two dollar whore that you do. No virgin can handle a dick in their soaking cunt like you do, babygirl," Wade grunts, and Logan paws at the carpet, breathing heavy and uneven as every word makes that heat building low in his stomach even more intense.

Wade pulls back, then slams back in, holding him in place with nails digging into flesh, fucking him hard and fast and brutal.

Logan screams into the carpet. Wade grabs a fistful of his hair, yanking his head up, "fucking watch, bitch," he orders, never slowing or faltering in his rhythm.

Logan does. Sees the way Wade looks totally gone in his pleasure, thrusting ridiculously. Watches the way his body jerks with every movement, the red marks on his skin catching the sunlight, barely distinguishable from the ever so slightly darker shades of blood.

"I- I'm close, can- can I-" it's like Wade is pushing every word out of him, and Logan realises that he's going to come with his dick completely untouched, and that thought twists it so instead of his rapid run towards the end, he's barelling right past the finish line, and he should've came by now from the impossible tightness in his balls but it's like he physically couldn't. Like he needed Wade's permission and fuck, he really was his bitch in every sense of the word, wasn't he?

"You can come, baby," Wade says, and Logan does. Immediately. Like on fucking command, and he can hear Wade chuckling as his arms give out and he goes falling face first into the carpet, his lower half only staying up from Wade's impossibly tight hold.

He glances at their reflection, mouth dry as Wade continues to fuck into him, his thrusts getting more unsteady but no less forceful as he gets close.

Logan whimpers, his entire body tingling and oversensitive.

"Almost there, sweetheart. Want me to finish inside of you? Knock you up? Want everyone to see you with my baby in your belly and know you truly belong to me?"

And Logan really doesn't get how he manages it, because his dick was half softened, but he comes again, his stomach clenching in a way that hurts as his second consecutive orgasm rips through his utterly confused body.

He must black out, and Wade must come, because the next thing he knows is blinking through bleary eyes up at their ceiling, and it's like he's up there and floating, chest heaving with exertion.

"Lo? You back with me?"

Wade. Wade, he wants Wade. Needs him, now.

"I'm right here," Wade hums, pressing against him, and Logan whimpers, chasing his lips, eyes half lidded.

Wade kisses him all gentle, fingers scratching over his scalp, humming against his skin, "you look gorgeous, baby. Look," and he's tilting Logan's face slightly, just enough to see himself in the mirror.

He's still all marked up. All Wade's, and he makes a happy sound in the back of his throat.

"Are you purring?" Wade asks, incredulous but teasing, his tone light.

Somehow the glare Logan aims for is just a smile, and he tugs Wade in for another kiss.

He does have to shower eventually. They both do, when the come drying over their bodies becomes gross and sticky. The red is washed away, but Logan almost cries in relief when he discovers Wade was right about the staining.

It's subtle, slightly reddened spots on his skin which will likely remain for the next couple of showers, but Logan finds himself running his fingers along them throughout the day, smiling softly to himself.

And well - when they do fade into something no longer visible a couple of days later, Wade has no problem recreating them.

[luveline]

Omg I just had an idea. What if for the Zombie!AU the reader and Steve are just reminiscing and she’s like (fondly) “I fully thought you were just gonna leave me stranded u were so mean to me you HATED my guts.” Like laughing and joking about it and Steve is horrified like D: (irrationally grumpy about it like who does that jerk think he is treating my girl like that but it’s him he’s the jerk)

thank you for your request! steve zombie!au ♥︎ fem!reader 1k

"That's a good look on you," you say.

Steve pulls your scarf out where it's draped around his neck, faking an appreciative look at the pinks and reds knitted together. "Red's my colour." 

"It's definitely more pink than red." 

"And I'm rocking it," he says, tucking one end over the shoulder of his shiny windbreaker. 

"You are! You look awesome… Maybe I'll have to come out with you next time," you say, testing the waters, "and make sure you actually get yourself some stuff." 

"I don't need to get myself anything. I'll just steal yours." Steve lifts the soft threads at the end of the scarf to tickle your cold face. 

You tug your arm through the crook of his like a needle through aida, pulling him along the College campus one lethargic footstep at a time. You'd been a little stir crazy on your day off together, and Steve had proposed a walk. Steve doesn't want to be walking, he's done enough walking that he'd preferably only do it in absolute necessity for the rest of his life, but exercise will always be good for the soul, and he likes the way you look when you're cold, in a strange way. Not the front bitten depression of the days you'd spent getting here, but the fleeting freeze of a quick stroll. Your eyes are bright with happiness and your hands are not so casually wrapped around his arm, stealing his heat. 

Steve doesn't mind. You can take every drop of warmth he has. 

"It's a little funny, sometimes, when we share things. I remember, before I almost got my shit wrecked by that geek in the pretzel shop fridge, I tried to give you my extra socks and you told me to shut up." 

Steve presses his lips together. "I did?" 

"That I was gonna get us killed being loud," —you turn, walking backward, with your hand searching down the length of his arm until you've found his cold hand— "and that you were an idiot for not leaving me in Bradley's." You smile at him and you're all fondness as an ache bruises up Steve's chest. "I thought you were gonna leave me there. You really didn't like me." 

Steve had been a mess when you found him — saved him. He'd been so fucking scared and he'd been trying to survive, and you'd saved him. You were there through everything. He wishes more than anything that he could go back and look past Steve in the eye, tell him to take better care of you physically and otherwise. He'd been having a hard time, but so had you, and while you've forgiven him for how he acted, he can't forgive himself. Even if he had his reasons. 

"I wouldn't have left you," he says softly. He hates himself for making you think he would. 

You soften just a little in response. "I know that." 

"Really, I–" He shakes his head, sheepish. "Was such a dick. I'm sorry." 

You stop walking. Your head tips toward your shoulder. You frown, and Steve wants to kiss it into a smile. 

"You were a dick. You were mean," you say, "but you weren't cruel, Steve, you toughened me up, and you got us where we are now. I don't want you to be sorry." 

"That jerk." 

You quirk your brow quizzically. 

"Where the fuck does he get off?" 

"You mean you," you say. 

He pulls you in and takes a step forward at the same time. Your chests bump, Steve pulling your hand to his hip to encourage a hug he doesn't deserve. 

"I was a jerk," he says, pinching your chin between his thumb and index finger. 

Your lashes flutter near imperceptibly, your pupils little black beads that start to grow. He loves when you make the face you're making, waiting for him to kiss you, trying to pretend you aren't. Your gaze falls to his lips and you look needy enough for him to consider popping down on one knee. 

"I was a world class douchebag and you didn't deserve it." 

"No, I didn't," you echo. 

He nods appreciatively. "Can I kiss you?" 

Steve doesn't ask that question very often anymore. Considering the subject matter of what you've remembered, he wouldn't blame you for needing some space, even if your hands are searching up his back and your face is closing in on his.

"You can always kiss me, baby," you murmur. 

And thank whatever presence it is that gave him you for that. He kisses you gently until your lips part, and he feels the hot press of your tongue for a dizzying split-second. He pulls you close, his hand sliding up the side of your face, his eyes screwed tight. All his senses are full to the brim of you. 

His hair falls into your face. It must tickle, because you laugh and ease away from him. Your eyes shine with brightness and your lips with the evidence of an enthusiastic kiss as you stroke the rogue strand of hair out of his eyes. 

Steve can't believe there was a part of him that could ever look at you and not turn to putty in your hands. "I fucking hate that jerk," he grumbles.

"I love that jerk," you say, rubbing his cheekbone with your knuckle. 

You drop your hand to his and tangle your fingers. "Helps that you're hot when you're mean," you add lightly. 

Steve perks up. "Yeah?" 

"I'll tell you more about it, if you like… Once we finish our walk." 

He feels a surprising throb of forgiveness for past him. If there's one thing he did right, it was that he made you a very fast walker. 

[lolasimms]

a lots gonna change pt.5

Summary: Married life isn’t great, infidelity ensues, and things change.

next chapter

“Tell me who you belong to.” She demanded, hand wrapping around your thigh, squeezing tight.

“You… I belong to you.” You could hardly speak but managed to get that much out between her hard licks. Tears of pain and pleasure started to form in your eyes.

“Say it! Who!” She shouted. “Who makes you feel this good?”

You moaned louder. “...mommy… only mommy fucks me this good…”

Your wife had your legs wrapped over her shoulders, licking and sucking as you moaned uncontrollably. Her fingers plunged inside you, as your soft, tight walls throbbed around her, as her fingers moved continuously on your clit, rubbing her tongue against it in tandem with her hand. Your body began quaking as you overcame your orgasm, screaming obscenities into the otherwise quiet room.

You inhaled deeply, trying to catch your breath as you lifted your head from the bed to look at her. She was kneeling on the floor at the edge of the bed, face slick from your release, her cheeks a dark shaded crimson.

"Jesus... when you asked to come upstairs for a kiss, I didn't expect that..." you muttered, breathless and smiling.

-

Ellie was sat on the left side of the sofa, like she always did, her fingertips drumming lightly against the soft fabric of her black slacks. Louise, your couples therapist, sat adjacent to the couch, in her armchair tapping her fountain pen against a notebook. The two of them didn't share a word, save for greetings and awkward smiles of acknowledgment. Ellie glanced at the clock that sat on the wall and sighed, where were you?

It was now nearing 4, and you had agreed to meet Ellie at 3:30. Yet you still hadn’t arrived, to make matters worse your phone wasn’t going through which was strange, as you were always reachable.

"Mrs. Williams, I have a client coming in, in about" she looks at her watch and gazes back at her. "15 minutes, I'm always happy to reschedule" she smiles politely, as she gets up and walks to her desk.

"Sure, I apologise on behalf of my wife, I'm not sure what's going on" she says, as she rises from the couch then collects her coat.

"No need, she's a working woman again, we can't blame her" she smiles and walks Ellie to the door. She nods her goodbye as she exits the office, slightly glad she wouldn't have to sit through another session.

-

You were currently in the parking lot of a local bar, sat on the curb as Abby and Morgan, tried to fix your car. After finishing off work quite early, Abby had persuaded you into joining she and the rest of the team for drinks, seeing as you still had 1 hour before you and Ellie’s session you’d agreed reluctantly. After a single gin and tonic (to avoid going over the limit) you packed your things and bid the crew goodbye, but once you got to your car you realised you'd be stuck in this parking lot way longer than you'd like. To ensure Ellie didn't waste her time waiting for you, you quickly plucked your phone out of your purse only to find that it had died.

"So what exactly is wrong with it?" You ask, coming up behind Abby and Morgan who are stationed in front of the car with the hood popped open.

"Nothing, we've checked everything from the engine to the battery and it all seems to be okay, I'm not sure why it won't start" says Morgan as he scratches his head in thought.

"I think it's a problem with your key, the battery in it is dead so you're going to need an entirely new key... or do you have a spare?" Abby asks as she turns around to face you.

"Yeah, but it's at home" you reply.

"Well without that spare key, this car is not moving" Abby says, making you groan. This couldn't have come at a less convenient time. Ellie was either fuming or worried, you were hoping for the latter.

-

After your failure to show at todays counselling session, Ellie picked Lila up from Joel’s and went straight home. By now Lila was fully better and her irritability and clinging had thankfully come to a stop. That didn't mean she dropped the sass. Ellie prompted to make dinner, so when you returned, whenever that was, the three of you could eat together but Lila had other plans.

"No momma, tea party!" She yelled from the kitchen floor as she tugged on her legs. If she weren't her child, Ellie would've been tempted to step on her.

"No, I have to make dinner" her voice stern and decided, leading the child to roll her eyes, a habit she had very recently become accustomed to.

"Mean momma" she angrily toddles out of the kitchen with her pink and gold embellished tea cup, causing her to sigh and return her attention to the dinner she was trying to make.

-

Just when you thought your evening couldn't have gotten any worse, rain began pouring heavily. Morgan and Abby encouraged you to leave your car here for the night and have one of them take you home. Abby being more than willing to take you home, one could even say she was quite adamant. You didn't want to be stuck in the rainfall waiting for Ellie to pick you up and the short sleeved blouse and pencil skirt you sported didn't help so you accepted her offer.

"I've turned the heater on, I can see that you're freezing" She says as her hand strokes your thigh, for a lone second. You immediately shift uncomfortably at her advance. She knew you were married, she had met your wife and kid and yet her flirting never stopped. You whispered a quiet, “thank you” and kept your attention on your lap, as you played with your wedding band.

"Here, have this it seems the heater isn't working in your favour" Abby smiles at you, while reaching for a coat that was splayed on one of her backseats. You accept the offering not wanting to freeze, as you sink further into the warmth of the heated chair.

"Thank you, I'm not usually affected this much by the cold" you reassure her as you look outside the car window, lost in the buzz of traffic and the street lights of the cities boulevards.

"Well that's one thing we have in common” She simply smiles ahead, her eyes focused on the road. The car falls silent and you spend the rest of the ride sat in gentle silence.

-

"Where's mommy?" Lila has returned to the kitchen after giving her mother the silent treatment, in search for her other mother.

"I don't know baby, she's running late isn't she?" Ellie reaches down to pick her up when she hears a knock at the door.

"Mommy?" She questions, looking at Ellie in search for answers.

"Well let's go see if it is mommy" she states as she makes her way over to the foyer to get the door.

-

The doors to your home open and you are met with Ellie, who is stood in her usual band tee and a pair of sweatpants, with Lila sat in her arms. The first thing she notices is your freezing state and the oversized coat that clings to your body.

"Y/n, what the fuck happened are you okay?" Ellie questions as she hikes Lila higher and looks at you worriedly. Lila waves at you sweetly and you return the action making her smile.

"I'm so sorry I missed todays session, our team went for a drink and then my car wouldn't start so Abby was kind enough to drop me home" you say as you wrap your arms around yourself, shivering.

"Don't worry about that, come in you're freezing" Ellie ushers you into the house and immediately reaches for her phone, adjusting the home’s controls to turn the heat up.

"So what happened to your car?" She asks as she leads you to the kitchen and starts the kettle.

"I'm not entirely sure, you know I don't know shit about cars, but Abby thinks my key battery died" She looks at you as she drops a teabag of chamomile and stirs a small spoon of sugar into a large embellished teacup.

"Yeah, that shit happens you'll need to carry around your spare from here on out, I was worried" she says, placing the cup of tea on the island and leaning down for a kiss.

"I know I'm sorry, here can you put my phone in charge I'm just going to let Abby in, she needed to use our bathroom" you say as you place your cup down and make your way back outside. Ellie rolls her eyes, not wanting to be in the presence of that woman who so clearly wanted you.

"Hungry!" Lila whines and Ellie decides it's time she reheat the dinner she so graciously prepared.

-

"Still need to take a leak?" You question Abby through her rolled down window, she smiles and nods so you lead her into the house.

"You have a nice home" she observes the foyer in all its glory, the glossy orange hue from the midway entries, large vintage light piece glowing through her blue orbs.

“Thank you” you say, as you lead her further into the home.

-

"Abby, evening" Ellie says as she stands behind the island, a pot of spaghetti in hand, Lila is sat on a bar stool, colouring a rather hideous drawing she had made.

"Evening Ellie, sorry for disrupting your dinner but I have to use the restroom" Ellie nods and focuses back on what you're assuming was spaghetti and meatballs, one of very few meals she knew how to make. You show Abby to the bathroom and return to the kitchen.

"Did you cook, dinner?" You ask, coming behind Ellie who was grating a generous amount of cheese onto the meal. You wrap your arms around her waist, peppering kisses onto her neck and back.

"Yes, you know you’re not the only one who knows how to cook around here” she smirks as she plates some of it, opting to give Lila a smaller portion as her appetite was not quite as big as the two of yours.

"Mmmmmm, it smells really good, best way to end the night" you smile as you nuzzle further into her.

"Well there are better ways to end the night" she smiles, looking down at you and you know where this is going.

"Don't be dirty minded" you playfully smack her arm and she laughs at you. "Hey, to be fair you thought it" you can't help but push her again and then look to your left where Abby has now entered the kitchen.

"Oh Abby, everything alright?" You question as she straightens her suit and walks over to you.

"Yeah, thank you for your restroom, I'll be leaving now" she smiles.

"You can stay for dinner" you blurt out, unsure of where the idea had come from. Ellie physically tenses up at your words and turns to you.

"She can, since when?" She says out loud and you roll your eyes at her bluntness.

"It's fine Y/n I wouldn't want to impose, plus my cat is probably due a feeding" she waves off dismissing your invitation.

"Well I suppose another time then" you smile apologetically at her, embarrassed by Ellie’s behaviour. Abby simply nods. You expect her to make her way to the door when once again she walks up to you, placing a kiss on your cheek. Your body freezes up and you turn to gauge Ellie’s reaction.

"I'll see you out" Ellie spits through her teeth and you have to suppress a groan at the obvious strap off the two of them were having.

-

"What are your intentions with my wife?" Ellie asks as she and Abby walk through the halls towards the front door.

"Nothing, I find y/n to be a good friend, you’re lucky to have her" Abby says, trying to make Ellie feel small, or at-least that's what Ellie felt she was attempting. As she towered over her, smirking.

"Good, I'm glad you know your boundaries, just remember that she’s my wife, she belongs to me" they've made it to the door and Abby steps out of the house, Ellie’s left leaning on the frame of the front door, gazing at her with fury.

"Goodnight Ellie, pass my regards to y/n and Lila"

"I will" Ellie lowly spits, she attempts to close the door when Abby suddenly calls her name once more making her halt.

"By the way, tell y/n she can keep my coat for as long as she pleases" Abby is now smirking, as she walks away in the rain, making her way over to her car. Ellie wasn't sure what she was feeling but she sure as hell was seeing red, she was going to kill that motherfucker.

-

"Mmmm" Lila exclaims each time you feed her a mouthful of the spaghetti. Ever since the awkward encounter between Abby and Ellie, the two of you hadn't spoken a word to one another. You were upset that she couldn't be civil with your colleague, but also couldn’t blame her as Abby couldn’t seem to keep her hands to herself. You however didn’t understand why Ellie was taking her anger out on you. It’s not like you were entertaining Abby’s advances.

"All done?" You question Lila and she nods, you pick her plate and yours up, place them in the dishwasher and pick up the messy child who was now covered in spaghetti sauce.

"Say Goodnight to momma" you tell her, as she was off to bed from here and you knew she took it very seriously whenever she didn't get to bid Ellie goodnight.

"G'night momma" she says as she leans down and places a kiss on Ellie’s cheek. She mutters goodnight to her daughter, placing a small kiss on her forehead and then proceeds to pack up the table.

After giving Lila a bath and settling the toddler in for the night, you head to your room, deciding it was about time you finally called it a day.

-

"I changed the sheets" Ellie mumbles as you enter the bed, fresh out the shower.

"Thanks" you mumble, as you reach into your bedside table to grab the book you were reading.

"Why did you have her coat on?" You hear her blurt abruptly as you are halfway through your page.

"What kind of question is that?" You now place the book on the side table and gaze at her.

"It's a question, now answer it"

"I know what your stupid question is insinuating Ellie, and I'm offended you would think that lowly of me" she shakes her head and sighs. Honestly you’d had a hell of a day, and weren’t in the mood for her accusations.

"This isn't about what I think of you, she fucking kisses you infront of me, she has no sense of boundaries. I don't trust her and I can tell from the way she acts around you that she wants to be more than friends and you're blind if you can't see that."

Her voice is calm and collected, she must've been utilising the tips Louise had given the two of you during your sessions, about settling conflicts.

"As my wife you should trust me enough to not worry when I'm in the company of those that you don't trust. To assume that I did anything with that woman is unfair and disrespectful" you counter.

"It's jus-"

"If we don't have trust we have nothing Ellie" tears begin to spill down your face and she can't help but feel guilty. You grab your book and phone and climb out of the bed, heading straight for the door.

"Y/n come back!" She urges, but you aren't hearing any of it and exit the room making your way to the guest room.

She felt like shit, she let her greed and selfishness push her into cheating. Not only was she doing that but she was pushing the paranoia she, herself manifested by her own cheating onto you. You didn't deserve this, any of this and she was running out of ways to make things better.

taglist:

@moonlightdivine @maybe-cece @macaroni676 @sawaagyapong @katiemars @ellieseater @dakota-dream @joliettes @hebrokeimup

[worstmdzstakes]

One of the worst takes: that Wei Wuxian was in any way wrong for nightless city, or that Wen Remnants and Wei Wuxian died because he was too arrogant to ask for help

These are definitely both stupid takes!

💩Fanon bullshit💩 - WWX was in the wrong at Nightless City:

Can people in the fandom not grasp when someone is being treated unfairly?!

The sects stated that the matter would be settled for the time being if WQ and WQ gave themselves up and they would leave WWX and the remaining Wens remnants alone.

How would anyone feel to find out they had sacrificed their lives for nothing? That the cultivation world was still planning an attack on the burial mounds, intent on murdering every single innocent person that lived there.

What happened at Nightless City was straight up defence. Granted, WWX was out of his mind with trauma, but overall, it was the congregation of sects that made a move first.

As WWX concluded himself:

“Oh?” Wei Wuxian helped the one who’d spoken dissect his statement. “So if he wants to kill me, he needn’t have any misgivings about dealing a lethal blow. If I die, that’s just my bad luck. But if I defend myself, I must have reservations about who I hurt—even about whether I should touch a single strand of anyone’s hair in the first place. In short, you can ambush me, but I can’t fight back. Is that right?”

7S vol 4

It seems that some people in the fandom are more like the idiots of the cultivation world who blindly followed without question.

MXTX wished her readers to be like LWJ in virtue and WWX in character - not the mob who could not see what was truly right or wrong.

💩Fanon bullshit💩 - WWX won't ask for help:

There was never anything truly arrogant about WWX. He put a bravado on to stop people attacking him and finding out he no longer possessed a golden core, that he had a weakness which could be exploited. It was all to stop people looking too closely at the fact he had no spiritual powers and was weaker than before.

Throughout the novel WWX has no qualms with asking for help - just look at him when he was trying to save the ungrateful Su She from the waterborne abyss. He asked for help. The only issue is, people don't usually give him it. He's used to fighting things out on his own, relying on himself and his own skills. Then LWJ comes along and he helps without even being asked.

Just who could WWX ask for help when he was protecting the Wen remnants at the burial mounds?!

He rather unfortunately concluded LWJ disapproved of him and his methods - yet, unbeknownst to him, LWJ helped him as much as he could, defending him and the Wens during meetings and when the fierce corpses broke out alongside WN after they met in Yiling.

His own sect leader threw him to the proverbial dogs and declared him the enemy of the cultivation world! Hardly helpful! WWX knew JC wouldn't help, even though he owed the Wen remnants a life debt and was honour bound to repay such a thing. Why the hell would WWX ask JC for help when he already knew the answer. He knew JC was too full of resentment and hatred to even lift a finger and JC only proved it the minute he arrived at the burial mounds and sneered at the old and weak before trying to kill a defenceless WN who he personally owed so much to. Even an idiot could see that he wasn't going to help - so what does that make the people saying otherwise? Hmm...

[misschifuyu]

To choose a lover

requested here

characters: ran haitani + rindou haitani

genre: fluff

warnings: none

Giggles and whispering comments were passed around, giddiness present in the voices that spoke out just a few metres away from you.

As much as you tried to focus on the tiresome work that was splayed out on the piece of paper before you, it was completely futile to drown the girls out.

It didn't take a genius to know what they were talking about. The school you were all under had the privilege - if one could even consider it as such - to hold two infamous students.

The Haitani brothers.

Whilst the eldest was in his final year, the younger still had another year under this roof until he followed in his brother's footsteps.

But there was really nothing to dislike about going to class when one had a literal fan group who's main topic was always them.

There were girls who preferred Ran, with his signature braids that they always wished they could undo for him; and others that would always fawn over Rindou's cocky ways and stubbornness, trying to catch his attention wherever he went.

The current conversation, however, wasn't just fixed on talking about their aspects.

Far from it. Sending each other questionable looks and making fun of those on the other side of the opinion, they were discussing who, out of the two brothers, was better.

Those on Ran's side had the advantage of saying that he was older, therefore more responsible and willing to take care of anyone.

Sure.

He would make the perfect husband, some were proclaiming. But...the youngest would always want to show that he is the strongest, the more dependable one, as a result of the inferiority that had always hung with him since they were young.

It wasn't that he was, he just hadn't pushed himself to be known as much as his brother had done all those years back.

Needless to say, it was an argument that would never see an end. At least not until the two left the school behind and continued up to wherever the future would take them.

It was amusing, from your point of view, to hear all of these discussions. For years now you had known the two, as close friends who had grown up on the same street, so you knew everything that there was to them, right down to what they actually did when they said they were studying.

Definitely something that the girls would be pushed back by if they ever found out.

But, if it really came down to it, you probably wouldn't be able to pick one out of the pack that they came in, either.

They both had their merits and faults, and, truth be told, neither of the two were that much of a pleasure to be around with, as much as their fans would beg to differ.

One thing was for sure, though. It had come into the light when the three of you had been hanging out one afternoon, without much else to do.

You had asked the youngest about what he thought about his notorious lower level when it came to comparing him with his brother.

It had simply been a spur of the moment, and you hadn't expected him to actually give a sorrowful response.

He was well aware that he was viewed as the weaker brother of the two, and as much as he'd try to prove otherwise, it had always been something that would eat away at him.

Naturally, both you and Ran had jumped to convince him that he was far from a weak person.

The fact that he was viewed as such meant nothing at all when it came down to the reality of what he was, and that there was no point in even listening to those ignorant - and frankly, irrelevant - opinions about himself.

At the end of the day, although you would never openly admit it near the oblivious fangirls, you held a considerable amount of affection towards the two of them.

Of course, they had their odd moments in which you only wished to hit them around the head with Ran's metal bar; but, all in all, they would always be your childhood friends.

So choosing between them was simply out of the question.

Both of them held an equal importance to you, so when a peculiar feeling started growing for one of them, you quickly averted it so it would be felt for the two, whatever it were to be.

They were two peas in a pod, and you weren't about to change this because of a measly crush.

However, the thought would only bug you more whenever you were all together. Such as the current situation, sat right between the two of them on the comfort of their couch.

Before even coming over, you had mentally ordered yourself to disregard the ridiculous thoughts that had flooded your mind.

The girls back at school hadn't help with the problem one bit, if anything they worsened the conflictive feelings; and now you were to spend the afternoon with the two.

One could only think that all odds were against them in such situations.

Head resting on Ran's shoulder, legs atop Rindou's, your eyes were fixed onto the screen before you. The reasoning behind spending the afternoon together was the airing of your favourite show.

However, you were now racking your brains over what you were supposed to do after the series ended. Watching a movie was the prime option, but you figured they would want to move from the couch and do something else.

And the two were very talkative, so you would have to, inevitably, push everything in your mind aside to prevent from even giving the smallest hint surrounding your thoughts.

Your stiffness didn't go unnoticed, and, soon enough, you felt a hand on your leg, startling you in an instant.

"What the hell is up with you today, Y/N?"

Rindou had lost all attention for what was playing on the screen, and it looked to be as though he had for a bit now. This meant he had felt your change of attitude well before he had actually asked about it.

"What? No, nothing...why?"

Knitting his eyebrows together, the blond looked over at you with a disbelieving stare. By now, you were sure Ran had shifted his interest towards the two of you.

"You've been all skittish since you got here. You got something important on your mind or what?"

Geez.

"No...I've just been thinking about something stupid, that's all. Don't worry about it, now let me watch th-"

"That being?"

Now you were cornered. From behind you, having turned to look at Rindou, a voice spoke out the question. In slight panic, you managed to come up with another way around it.

"Well...that, let's say, if I had to choose one out of the two of you, I wouldn't know who I'd pick. It's a silly question one of my friends asked today, that's all"

God bless the fan girls. You were sure to never judge them internally again, because they might have just saved your skin in the nick of time.

Your nerves calmed down as you heard Rindou chuckle at the concern, and you figured he'd just brush it off as another one of your peculiar inquiries.

However, as he fully turned towards you, it was clear that he wasn't about to let this go unfazed.

"Well, you can't just leave us like that without an answer. Go on then, if it was a life or death situation, who would it be?"

"Rindou...you know I'd get rid of both of you if I could"

You all laughed at your words, stirring the conversation into an area that you were certain you could get a hold of.

Each one of you was just as ridiculous as the next one, so it wasn't hard to divert difficult topics.

If only the youngest wasn't so damn pushy.

"On a real note, there's gotta be one of us that you like just a little more, Y/N"

Upon knowing that perhaps you had driven yourself into a dead end, you started to fumble with your fingers.

What the hell were you supposed to say? If you picked one, the other was surely to get the wrong idea.

"Um..."

A slight shift behind you made you turn your head, catching Ran just a little too close for comfort to your face. Great, just what you needed.

After a few, nerve racking, seconds in silence, it was the eldest of the two that decided to break the ice. You were all just wasting time there, after all.

"Listen...since my brother seems incapable of forming a decent sentence, what we've been trying to get at is which one you'd choose, because we've both liked you for some time now and we kinda need to know who you'd go out with"

Well.

Certainly an unexpected turn to your seemingly uneventful afternoon. It appeared that you weren't the only one struggling with the damned feeling that was a crush, but you hadn't gambled that it would be both of them...and for the same person.

You couldn't choose.

In the same way that you had to waver the feeling of more than just friendship between the two of them, there was no way you could pick one now.

It would be unfair for the other, especially since you would only be lying to yourself for saying that you felt nothing for the half that was left aside.

There was only one way out of this, unless you wanted to shatter the relationship you had built between them for the past years.

"I...both of you. I can't leave one of you out when I, well, like both of you"

A huge weight was lifted from your body the moment the brothers exchanged a look, followed by an agreeing nod. Far from the catastrophe you had gambled with, that much was sure.

As Ran leaned his head on your shoulder, Rindou gave you a bright smile, one that not everyone had the chance to say that they've seen.

"Wasn't so hard to say, now was it?"

No. What was going to be hard was having not one Haitani by your side, but two, as a partner. Sure enough, you were really going to know what their poor mother had to put up with now.

[bruhstories]

Vogel und Jäger

- PART THREE

Summary: You had your first show at Zeke's club, but things begin to complicate. Pairing: Zeke Jeager x Fem!Reader Warnings & Content: language, Floch is a creep Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: as always, make sure to read parts one and two to understand just what the hell is happening. the songs reader is singing in this chapter are flickers and easy by son lux, which i've linked down below if you wanna listen to it as you read

For five long days you switched between training with Mikasa and practising with the band. The deadly assassin made you work hard, teaching you various techniques of martial arts, as well as how to load and unload guns, how to aim, how to use knives and even how to use crossbows. You were no match to anyone else in the family, getting your ass kicked even by Armin, the bookkeeper, but you were not going to give up. Your will to survive fuelled you. What you weren’t expecting in those five days was to get to know Mikasa and Armin, and realise that they were just as normal as you were — with the added benefit of being properly trained in marksmanship and combat. And they were surprisingly nice to you, but there was a hint of reluctance in their actions and words.

Friday night you had your first show and you found yourself in the backstage, a knot in your throat as you did your makeup. The idea of Yelena blowing your brains out was a lot more pleasant than having to perform in front of so many people. Posters had been put up all over Paradis City announcing your first show at Wings Club, and you knew lots of undercover policemen would be there, perhaps even undercover Marleyans. But for some odd reason, you wanted to please Zeke, make him proud of sparing your pathetic life. Onyankopon told you to be ready in five minutes, and your heart sank, wiping your sweaty palms on the crimson dress.

"You'll do fine." He told you, but you had a bad feeling. There were guards everywhere, so you felt somewhat safe, but stage fright settled in your heart, and you couldn't even reply anything back. All you did was remain stuck in a trance.

The band was ready, the microphone was on, and you waited for the curtain to rise. Someone announced your performance, and the violinist began playing the notes of the first song as the spectators waited eagerly. There were no original songs, only jazz covers, and you felt every single pair of irises burning into your skin. You closed your eyes, imagining no one was there but you and the band, everyone else disappeared.

"And with my opened mouth I join the singing light..."

There was no turning back now. You'd done it. The spotlight was on you and you alone. Soon the pianist joined, and you felt a bit more confident.

"I can see the flickers, over me the lantern raised... Lift me up, lift me over it. Show me what you're hiding, take me out into the sea... Lift me up, lift me over it."

Somewhere upstairs, Zeke was watching over you, door wide open to hear your beautiful voice hypnotising every man and woman in the club. Indeed, he made the right choice.

"And with my opened mouth I join the singing light..."

You were in a trance. Nothing mattered anymore but the music, the vibrations, the thrill of the show. It was giving you a sense of importance and belonging, and in that moment, you knew it — you were thriving off of the attention, the way no one dared to move while you sang. You captivated the spectators with your voice, you captivated Zeke with your voice.

"I can see the flickers, over me the lantern raised... Lift me up, lift me over it. Show me what you're hiding, take me out into the sea... Lift me up, lift me over it."

You finally opened your eyes, drinking in the way everyone was silent, the only sound resonating being the final notes from the musical instruments. The next songs came so much easier to you, some were more upbeat and you stopped being stiff, your hands moving up and down the microphone pole, hips swaying, head tilting. You ended your performance with another emotional song, and even you had goosebumps on your skin as you began to sing.

"Easy... easy... pull out your heart to make the being alone easy. Easy... pull out your heart to make the being alone easy. Easy..."

You saw them, the two cops from the files. They were watching you like hawks, sending chills down your spine. But you were a distraction, so you looked them in the eye, a smile on your plump lips.

"Easy, easy... You break the bridle to make losing control easy, easy... Crushed what you're holding so you can say letting go is easy, easy..."

The song was coming to an end. You wrapped your arms around yourself to emphasise the emotions you were so gently transmitting, voice echoing in the club.

"Oh, easy, easy... Burn all your things to make the fight to forget easy, oh, easy... Burn all your things to make the fight to forget easy, easy..."

You weren't just transmitting an emotion, you were feeling it, too. The song resonated with your life, your struggles, your issues. You were alone most of your life, save for Historia and the children. But now... now you had someone, albeit being forced to work for the mafia. But you weren't alone anymore.

"Easy... easy... pull out your heart to make the being alone easy. Easy... pull out your heart to make the being alone easy. Easy..."

You bowed in front of the crowd as a round of applause replaced your voice and music. It was exhilarating, the adrenaline not wanting to leave your body. You mumbled a soft thank you in the microphone before leaving the stage, tripping on the last step. Onyankopon was waiting for you with a large bouquet of peonies and daffodils, your eyes widening at the beautiful flowers and sweet scent.

"This is for you, miss." He smiled, but his smile was hiding something and you couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was.

"Thank you, but you didn't have to!"

"Oh, it's not from me." Onyankopon pursed his lips. There it was. You looked at the card attached to the bouquet — You are as radiating as the sun, but as cold as the moon. E.S. The message was written in perfectly neat calligraphy.

"E.S.? Any idea who that might be?" You tucked the card between the flowers as you walked with the mobster in the dressing room.

"I know exactly who that is." He sighed, eyes narrowing at the bouquet. "Inspector Erwin Smith, chief of police. He handed me the flowers personally."

"Isn't he working for you?" You removed the heavy earrings from your earlobes.

"He is. It appears he likes you." Onyankopon folded his arms across his chest and a man with strawberry-blond hair entered the room, earning disgusted looks from all the half-naked girls there.

"Boss wants to see you." He sneered at you, goosebumps dotting your arms.

"We'll be upstairs soon, Floch."

"No, not you. Just birdie. Chop chop." Floch left the room and you got up. Onyankopon grabbed your wrist, stopping you in your tracks before giving you a concerned gaze.

"Be careful around him. He's... strange."

"I'll keep my guard up." You tried to smile. There were lots of things you didn't know about the men you were working with, so you made a mental note to ask Sasha and Connie about Floch.

"So, I hear you're a prostitute." He bluntly stated, and you flinched at his words. The audacity of this bitch!

"Was." You corrected him. "Besides, it's none of your business."

Your shoulder blades met with a wall and you let out a whimper at the impact. Floch eyed you up and down, his hands holding you in place.

"Everything you do is my business." He sneered, his face leaning closer inch by inch, closing the gap between you. "Ah, you even smell like a whore."

You feel disgusted by that creep, the way he sniffed you twisting your lips into a frown. Onyankopon was right to warn you, and so you slap his face, hard.

"Don't touch me again." You lifted your gown above your ankles and walked up the stairs, with Floch behind you. Fucking pervert.

"Ah, little bird, you've been fantastic!" Zeke greeted you, cigarette between his fingers. "I heard you even received flowers."

"Yes, from Erwin Smith." You nod, eyes on Floch's shit-eating grin.

"Good. I want you to meet with him after your show tomorrow." Your boss smiled and your eyes drifted to the healing wound in your left hand. You knew you caouldn't say no. "I suspect he'll want to recruit you as a double agent."

"Do I accept?"

"Of course, but you'll be telling him exactly what I tell you."

"Understood."

"You may go. Don't forget to take your pay from Armin."

"Yes, sir." You gently bowed your head in respect and left. Floch whispered whoreas you passed him and you gritted your teeth.

"Say, Connie, can I ask you something?" You watched your roommate unbox some bottles of fancy liquor.

"Sure! What's on your mind?" He asked, focused on his task.

"What can you tell me about Floch?"

Connie almost dropped the bottle, his eyes finding yours. "Just that you should stay away from him."

Sasha walked in with what you assumed to be a bag full of drugs and that's when it clicked — they were going to put the drugs in the boxes and ship them. Clever.

"Floch is insane." The brown-eyed girl scrunched her nose. "He's obsessed with Eren and thinks Zeke should step down and let his brother take his place. Why? Did he do anything to you?"

"Yes and no." You proceeded to explain what happened back at the club to your roommates and the look of disgust on their faces only confirmed what you assumed.

So far, you decided to only trust Sasha, Connie and Onyankopon, and hope that Zeke wouldn't give up his title. Otherwise, you'd end up dead in a ditch, and the one who’d put a bullet between your eyes was Floch himself.

tagging @mxhi

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

We've Got Tonight - Ch 4

Summary: “It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

Inspired by Bob Seger’s “We’ve Got Tonight”

Warnings: Major Character Death, More Major Character Deaths (sort of?), higher than show level violence, blood, light smutting, language, demons, apocalypse, inferred suicide, cult activity.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: This story is set hazily around season 8. Just squint a little, and it’ll settle in somewhere. I wrote this story after certain big revelations in the show, but before other big ones; you’ll most likely be able to tell which. I play with time a bit in the story itself, so if things seem out of order, they are. Hopefully, by the end, all the pieces will fit together.

What the hell, let’s give it a shot.

EXTRA WARNING: THIS CHAPTER IS THE SOURCE OF MOST OF THE WARNINGS FOR THE STORY. Please don't kill me. THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER, I PROMISE. It's not over yet. I can't promise you won't hate me when it's over, but I will not leave you here. There's more.

Image and major edits by the incomparable @there-must-be-a-lock . Heavy editing and cheering by @thoughtslikeaminefield . Thank you both so much.

In case you missed it: Chapter 3 ItMightHaveBeenintentional’s Masterlist

...

We’ve Got Tonight

Ch 4

Pre-dawn is too damn cold, she decides. She has to visually check that her fingers are actually doing up the buttons to her ragged denim jacket. She lost sensation in her hands a while back, and it’s the only way to make sure they’re actually doing their job. Her jacket is utterly unsuitable for the current temperature, but she doesn’t expect to need it for much longer.

Just before sunrise, Crowley told her.

The sky is already lightening on the horizon, the medium gray more obvious than she would have thought against the stark black, but, then, she’s never had much occasion to be out quite this late before. She’s usually done at the diner by six, singing at the club by ten, and in bed by two at the latest. She hopes Crowley is punctual. She can’t decide if the waiting or the cold is worse.

Except that, yes, she really can. The waiting is definitely worse.

The sound of shifting gravel pulls her out of her thoughts, and she turns to find the King of Hell himself smiling beatifically at her. She shivers, not bothering to search out the source of her discomfort, as she is rather spoiled for choice at the moment. She’s out in the freezing dark, about to hand over her life and soul to a demon because deranged cultists got it into their heads that they should use her blood to start an apocalypse (and who knew there was more than one of those outside of Sunnydale, seriously).

Shivering is probably the most rational reaction she’s had in a while.

“Hello, darling. Pleasant evening with the boys?”

He’s got more sass in one off-the cuff remark than she has in her entire history, and for a moment she can only marvel at the affected innocence in his expression. It's almost convincing. She opts to remain silent rather than take his bait. He smirks, the expression natural and only a touch derisive.

“No surprises, then? No sidekicks to save you at the last minute from the bad, bad demon?”

“I thought the torture didn’t start until after you kill me,” she sighs, hugging her arms tighter around herself, a futile attempt to ward off the chill. Maybe she’s got a little spark in her, after all. He laughs, a friendly, personable chuckle that would set anyone else at ease, reassure them of his honorable, benign intentions.

“Come on, Crowley, what's the hold up? I was here on time. Can we just get this over with already? I could have gotten one more round in with Dean if we were just going to stand around, shootin’ the breeze.”

Even watching for it, she can only just see the tick in Crowley's jaw, the slightest tension that betrays...something. She doesn't know what or why, but Crowley has more than a little unhealthy obsession with the elder Winchester brother, and she is pleased she managed to crack his veneer even for the briefest moment.

At least I don't have to worry about Dean, Andy thinks, relief creeping into the sea of dread that is her stomach. Her deal with Crowley was not only about stopping the apocalypse but also keeping Sam and Dean and even Castiel safe.

“Once you're gone, I won’t harm a hair on their precious heads, nor any other part of them,” he swore to her a mere eighteen hours earlier.

“I’m hurt you don't find my company more pleasant, love,” he murmurs, taking a couple of steps closer. He slides his hands in his coat pockets, the very picture of nonchalance. “I do try my best to be cordial, even congenial, after all. But since you’re so very uncomfortable, I suppose you won't object, then, that I took the liberty of inviting a few friends whose company you seem to prefer. What a lovely party we’ll have when they get here.”

As if he’s summoned them, a pair of lights appear in the distance, growing larger with every passing moment. Headlights, she realizes; a second later, she hears the distinctive roaring of a very particular car engine, and before she can turn back to Crowley, the Impala leaps out of the darkness, skidding across the hard-packed dirt road, coming to a halt bare inches from the demon’s impeccably shined shoes.

Andy stumbles back, choking in the cloud of dust the car kicks up, only to hit something solid. Impossibly strong fingers dig into her chin, lifting her face out and away as cold, thin metal is pressed to the side of her neck, and only now does she freeze.

“Let her go, Crowley,” Dean growls, his gun drawn and aimed even before he exits the car. “This isn't her fight, and you know it!” On the other side, Sam and Castiel climb out, Sam drawing his gun and moving to flank the demon.

“I do heartily protest, sir,” Crowley says, his tone mild and conversational. The blade digs in ever so slightly under her ear, and a thin trickle of warmth slides down her skin to soak into her collar. Dean doesn't flinch, but his eyes narrow, and he readjusts his aim.

“Not only is the lady at the epicenter of this fight, she's gone and made herself the brightest star in the show. Ask her yourself, if you don’t believe me.”

“How-” she manages through fear-numbed vocal cords. Dean should be unconscious, snoring blissfully away in his bed where she left him. She made sure to leave no sort of trail they could follow, and she checked that they were all asleep or otherwise occupied before she took off.

“I wasn’t asleep, Andy,” Dean replies, leveling his gun at Crowley. “And I’ve been tracking since I was seven. Gimme some credit.”

“I wouldn't do that, if I were you, Moose.” Crowley’s words freeze Sam in his tracks, and the blade on Andy’s neck digs in a little deeper. The flow of warmth down her neck widens just a touch. The sheer smugness in Crowley’s tone sets her teeth on edge, breaking through her stupor, and she grabs the hand with the knife, pulling at it with all her might. She, of course, doesn’t make a dent in the demonic strength, but she’s got to try something.

If you asked her later, Andy would swear to you that the searing pain that drags along her neck parallel to her jaw line right then is pure Hellfire. Deep down in the darkest recesses of her mind where all the worst truths lurk, she knows she’s feeling the bite from Crowley’s knife, but in that instant all she is aware of is the agony of the wound, of Dean’s enraged roar, and the juxtaposition of Crowley’s gentle touch pressing her own fingers to something hot and slippery under her jaw.

“Hold pressure there, sweetheart, or you’ll bleed out too soon. Wouldn’t want you to miss the finale.”

Her knees buckle, and she drops, but somehow she stays upright long enough to see Crowley’s demons approach out of the darkness. She tries to warn the boys, but time moves with a dreamlike lethargy that betrays every one of her good intentions, and, anyway, her voice doesn’t seem to be working at the moment. The roar of gunfire all around her sounds faint in comparison to the rushing in her ears, and she is powerless to stop Crowley’s plans from reaching fruition.

“You...said...you wouldn’t...”

“Well, pet, you aren’t dead yet, are you? I’ve got, what, at least another three minutes before you snuff it, by my count. Plenty of time to conclude my business with the Winchesters and their featherbrained friend before you expire.”

Though he was right behind her only a moment ago, Crowley appears abruptly next to Castiel, who at the moment is distracted by two lesser demons both wielding machetes. She realizes as she watches Cas easily fend them off that they, just like Andy, are only a distraction, only bait to tempt the bigger players to overextend themselves.

Too late, she sees the perfection of Crowley’s plan. In all the confusion, she loses track of Sam, and she wrenches her eyes away from Dean’s staggering form only to watch as the angel blade in Crowley’s hand bursts through Castiel’s chest. Then her gentle, confused friend is gone in a flash. The demons vanish, and she can’t find Sam or Dean, can’t reach them, can’t make her voice work to call out.

The quiet is wrong, so out of place after the violent cacophony. The roaring is gone, the gunfire silenced, and all that’s left is a terrible wheezing, gurgling sound that takes her too long to recognize as her own labored breathing.

“Crow...ley…”

“I’m here, darling. What do you need?”

“Lying...bastard…”

“Now, now, sweetheart, are those really what you want your last words to be?” He lifts her easily from the ground, carrying her the few yards to where Dean lies sprawled in the dusty gravel. His shirt is stained black in the retreating darkness, and Andy can only be thankful that she won’t make it to sunrise to see what exact shade of red is spreading over him. Dean’s far hand scrabbles on the ground, stopping its frantic search only when it finds his brother’s.

Sam’s still form doesn’t return his brother’s grip.

“After all, I’ve done you a favor; I didn’t have to give you the opportunity to say good-bye. I can’t promise you adjoining cells, but I’m sure your torture will coincide with his occasionally,” Crowley continues conversationally, “so, really, the two of you should be thanking me that you’ll at least get occasional visiting privileges. It pays to be on good terms with the king, after all. And, who knows? After a couple hundred years of good behavior, I might even be persuaded to-”

“Why?” It’s all she can manage as he lays her on the ground. Dean reaches for her with his free hand, and she is just able to find his fingers. Their eyes meet, but her vision is blurring as breathing gets tougher, and she can’t see what he’s mouthing to her. Even his eyes, such a luminescent green only hours ago, are fading into the remaining dark of the night.

“The Winchesters, dear, it’s always been about the Winchesters. Oh, the fanatics and their doomsday ritual were real enough, as was your blood. I just simply took advantage of the situation, as any intelligent monarch would do. Settled things with the apocalypse groupies, rid myself of some major pains in my rear, and now I get you, to boot! I do love when a plan comes together.”

Dean’s fingers tighten in hers, and she tries to grip his back, but the harder she holds on, the less she can feel him.

She’s not really feeling much of anything but cold now.

“Shut...up...already.”

“Always ungrateful in the end, even after everything I do for them,” Crowley grumbles from above her. But then he does shut up, and she finally feels something besides the cold.

Relief. ...

Chapter 5

[bunny-wk-fanfic]

This Is Brought To You By

The door opened to a rustic cabin, the natural wood glowing amber thanks to a roaring fire. Worn dark leather seating seemed hazy thanks to said fire light, each piled with plush pillows and draped with cozy throws or blankets. A low table had been laid out with candles, a bottle of wine was being kept chilled in a classy and slightly modern ice bucket with two glasses just off to the side. The only splash of color amongst the glow of the fire, the natural wood and stone textures were a small handful of red roses, loose petals just lightly scattered about. With the help of the slow jazz playing softly in the background, it made for a very romantic atmosphere.

"Well, hello there." the male voice was a slightly low purring drawl, drawing attention to the male figure sprawled across an almost stereotypical bear rug. "Deadpool here. Hopefully, while reading this, you're hearing the voice of a certain sexy male Canadian. I'm sure you know the one. And I don't mean the short, hairy one with anger issues and kitty claws and a fondness for cigars. Unless of course said angry man is being represented by a beautiful, beautiful wild Australian man. Because if then, well, lather me in hot sauce and spank my Chimichanga. But I'm getting off track here."

Fingers drummed against a knee, drawing the attention to the missing and familiar red and black outfit, and more importantly, to the lack of proper attire.

"Yes, my current outfit has to do with the reason we are here today. It's come to my attention, that it's been some time since we last met, or that our beloved writer has written anything involving our favorite woman. And more importantly, our favorite woman when involved with me." a single white rose was plucked from behind, waved about as if a magic wand, and dragged across a scarcely clad male thigh that was pocked with fresh wounds that were instantly scaring. "As such, I decided to… encourage our beloved writer into bringing us all together once again."

With a dramatic wave of limbs, he moved from reclining on his side, that screamed 'Paint my like your French women', to leaning back on his elbows. The pale pink satin nighty, the atmosphere, and the pose would have been more than alluring were the one in said pose a woman. With the male, the nighty was rather comically stretched across his frame, though covering everything important, the sheer robe with fluffy cuffs only adding to the oddity of the entire situation. It clashed with the fact that he still wore his iconic red and black full head cowl.

"Now, our lovely writer might say otherwise about my encouragement, calling it nagging, whining or say I simply began to annoy her until she finally relented. Ignore those words and continue to read mine with the amazing drawl of a voice provided by the Canadian sex symbol; my pal, my bosom buddy, Ryan Reynolds." the white rose bobbed to the beat of the low music, tapping against a hip every so often.

"Now, back unto the reason why we're here. Honestly? I was lonely and wanted some cuddles with my lovely, lovely Kagome." noticing that it was just the male lounging in the open living space, he was quick to wave a hand. "Don't worry, don't worry! My girl is currently enjoying a much-needed hot bubble bath. One, I wish I was taking part of, but felt this little conversation was, at the time, more prudent. How could I feel that? Simple. I had the desire that everyone read this in Reynolds voice, nothing more and nothing less. Though if we are asking for more, and I know what you all want, I on the other hand, wouldn't mind lathering my girl in rich and real Canadian maple syrup and eating my midnight pancake snacks off of her, but maybe later. So while Kagome is taking this time to prepare for a very adventurous night right here on this vegan friendly-faux-bear fur rug, I'll fill that time with hanging out with you lovely little readers. Because without you, though more so my unannounced arrival and delayed departure, we wouldn't be here right now."

Happy humming could now be heard from behind a closed door just off to the side, the male giving a little jiggle in his spot in excitement. The rose momentarily used to fan himself, though just how useful it was as such, needed to be questioned at a later time.

"Now I'm sure there are a few things you all wish to talk about; my last movie with the fridge trope, which I myself can only say thanks to the writers for that one. Thanks guys, I've always wanted more trauma and torture to sprinkled in my life." a finger was wagged, tongue tisking against his teeth, though the sound was slightly muffled due to his mask.

"Or when my next film will come out, and if so, will it be part of the Marvel Universe. This is where you show your true love and devotion. I ask you, lovely readers, to go out and use the internet, haul out the trolls if need be, and ask, beg, and cry for me to be part of Marvel. Not that I want to, not really, it's just principle. What with their large budgets, CGI teams, writers, directors and a full cast. Honestly, a whole school of mutants gone save for three at a single extended time? For what purpose, 'cause I doubt they all went on some sort of field trip or vacation, but what do I know, I failed out of 5th grade. But, not really." his head tipped to the side, possibly staring in the direction of where the bathroom was, it was hard to tell with his face actually covered to know for sure.

"I mean, who wants to be part of that depressing team? All that self-sacrificing for the greater good?" he gave a few bobs of the rose in his hand as his head tipped back, almost as if in contemplation. "Though let's be honest, we all know I would survive an alien with a California Raisin on steroids for a chin, snapping their fingers. And then I'd introduce said alien to my Desert Eagles Mark XIX while recruiting Ant-Man to tickle where the sun never shines before becoming… Anti-Ant-Man? I honestly don't know what to call him in his Ultraman form, wait, does that make him a magical-boy or a science-boy? Right, Ant-Man shrinking to tickle where sun don't shine for hurting my favorite Web-Head super bro." the rose now tapped where his mouth was, though again, it was hidden by his mask. "And it would be super hot to watch Kagome kick his ass. I wonder what she would wear… Something skin tight? Revealing? Her old school uniform?"

A door opening, even though quiet, drowned out his muttering, the candles flickered as steam billowed out of the bathroom before quickly dissipating the further it billowed into the open space. "Are you talking to White and Yellow again?" a female figure left the dark bathroom, her form covered with a short semi sheer dark pink bathrobe of her own. Her hands were raised just enough to free her hair from beneath the robe, though she paused when she really took a look at the sprawled out male. "...I thought that was supposed to be a gift for me?"

Snickering, he trailed the rose down from his mouth, his neck, down his chest stopping just above his stomach. "Don't you think I look sexy in this?" it was always so amusing to tease and rile her when he wore risqué outfits, namely hers.

Finishing in freeing her hair, she eyed his form. Yes, his skin was pocked and disfigured from him constantly getting open sores and his abilities nearly immediately healing them. But beyond that, his form was all carved muscle, no doubt from years of being a mercenary. While yes, he was larger with the shoulders strong, he had a slight swimmer's build. It didn't lack-

"Ah, sorry for the intermission. Our writer took a few days to… deal with life I guess. How boring." shoulders shrugged, waving off the confused expression from his fairer companion. "Of course, it would happen when describing my awesome and amazingly sexy self." an actual pout could be seen through his mask.

"I will admit, you are sexy." the purring drawl from Kagome drew his attention again, her words and tone revealing she either decided she was going to ignore him going off tangent or just that she was used to it at this point, body freezing when her hands began with removing the sash that kept her own coverings secure. "I'm just not sure that shade of pink is quite your color. Maybe you should stick to your usual colors?"

The moment, the robe dropped and pooled around her feet, revealed a feminine figure dripping in curves with subtle musculature that showed she kept up with her own training, he froze. She wore a set of red and black satin and lace that covered pale skin. It covered a little more than what most would normally deem sexy lingerie, with slightly wider straps, but they accentuated her curves, drawing attention to them. And the thin ribbons that accompanied and mimicked, as well as help the lace that helped cover stiffening peeks, made her look more like a present just waiting to be unwrapped.

"Well, what do you think of my gift to you?" legs crossed slightly as hands once again rose to lift her hair to both reveal her neck and shoulders as well as lift her chest, she stood posed before him, basking in the golden glow of the fireplace behind him.

The white rose that had been resting near his hip instantly perked up, a white petal flying off at the somewhat harsh and sudden movement. Despite it being a mask, the white 'eyes' widened as the mask shifted to show that his jaw dropped.

"I'll take your silence as a, 'I likey'?" she giggled as she dropped her hands, they followed the curves of her body, no doubt drawing his gaze from behind the mask to follow with. Slowly, with a slight predator grace, she lowered to her knees and began to crawl up his form, leaving a trail of kisses behind her that glittered from both the fire light as well as her own abilities to help heal him.

Tossing the rose without a care, he reached forward to trace her curves for himself, not stopping as her own hands reached forward to lift and remove his mask. Lips curved up when she reached forward to kiss him. It was sweet, a simple press of her lips against his own. His smile grew when he quickly ended the sweetness by reaching for that delightful curve of her ass that shook playfully in his grasp.

The gasp that was let out was easily and eagerly swallowed, tongue dipping between lush lips to tangle with her own. With where his grip was, he pulled her closer to settle in his lap. Trailing lips away from her own to nip down her jaw and neck, he smirked against her warm skin.

Pausing, brown eyes narrowed as he turned away from the purring woman in his lap. "Oi, what are you still doing here? This ain't no peep-show! Go away. Read a book, play a game, watch a movie. I hear that new one about a guy named Guy wanting to be free or something, is worth the watch. And if my pal Ryan is in it, ya know it's good. Now," a hand reluctantly left the span of leg it had been caressing with a waving motion. "Shoo."

Turning away, leaving behind the couple and the sounds of giggles and kissing echoed loudly over the crackles and pops from the fireplace. A quick squeal that turned into laughter that was followed by a masculine whine at the sound of fabric tearing just set the pace of what was to come. And who was in charge of this nights shenanigans. A door closing muffled the sounds as the cool evening draped across the forest, leaving only the crickets in the distance and even further off cries of wolves the only sounds to echo.

Message delivered, though the exacts of what the message actually was seemed to have been lost. But it had been shared, and that seemed to be all that had been important. It did leave questions of what the future held, and if there would be any further important messages that would need to be shared. Who knows. Guess the game of 'wait and see' was going to have to be played.

AN: Don't ask. Please don't. I will say this, I was at work when I literally/figuratively heard Deadpool/Ryan Reynold's voice pop out from no where and bug me until I started writing this down. And when I lost the flow for a few days, it came back until I managed to finish it. So now I'm posting it here and cleaning my hands of it. I hope you can find some enjoyment in, I know I'm going to enjoy the peace and quiet.

As always; read, enjoy, and please review! - BunnyWK

[priska]

Annoyed, Jimin pointed a short finger at Jungkook who, for some reason, decided to do the same and curiously connected the tips of their pointer fingers.

"I am you and you are me!" He exclaimed with a disarming smile, leaving Jimin utterly confused. "What?"

"My mother used to do this when I was a child. She said it's a spell to switch bodies."

Pausing, Jimin lifted his hands and wiggled his fingers, then he touched his own cheeks. "I'm still me…" Utter disappointment filled his voice. A hot tear fell on his alcohol flushed cheek. "Why can't I just become someone else? I'm sick and tired of living like this, of being abnormal. If it's going to be like this for the rest of my life, I'd rather not have been born to begin with."

"Jimin-ssi…?"

Of course, Jungkook wouldn't understand. He had no idea what Jimin was going through and probably didn't care either. Somehow, that realization made Jimin feel even more distraught and weak in the knees. He crouched on the ground, feet sinking deeper into the cold, wet moss. Like a lost and helpless child, he started crying.

"Alright, that's enough." Jungkook sighed and gently ruffled Jimin's flailing silver locks. The latter felt it tug on the long braid hidden beneath his clothes, a constant and painful reminder of the life he would be forced to live once the sun rose.

"I'll give you a piggyback ride home, so stop crying. You're not even wearing shoes. Where did you lose them, huh? You're such a piece of work for a Beta."

"You d-don't h-have to do that…" Jimin sobbed and slapped the hand that was offered to him away. "Go play with the girls. I'm sure they're waiting for you, mister popular."

"What's that? Are you jealous?"

"I'm not!"

"Not even a little bit?"

"... Just shut up!"

Jungkook hummed and smiled when seeing Jimin bashfully avert his eyes.

"It's weird." The Alpha mumbled half to himself. "Ever since we first met, I feel like I have to take care of you. Like I can't leave you alone. I wonder what it is, this feeling. I wouldn't call it love at first sight but being around you feels nice and you're cute. I'm glad you're not an Omega, otherwise I'd be worried we might be fated mates."

Hesitantly, Jimin sunk his teeth into his quivering bottom lip.

"Would you… hate that?"

"I would. I'd really, really hate that. That's why I'm glad you're a Beta. I'm glad you're you."

But this isn't me. You don't fucking know the real me at all.

Jimin wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, feeling tired and stupid for being heartbroken over something that could've never been to begin with. Something he never even wanted. He still didn't.

"Even if I was an Omega and even if you were my fated pair, I still wouldn't go out with you."

"Ouch. How cold."

"That's right. I'm a stone cold, unlikeable brat. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going ho-"

All resolve didn't save him from slipping on a bunch of wet rocks and falling right back into Jungkook's waiting arms. The Alpha looked at him from above, a wide grin on his face as he happily pulled Jimin's cheeks. "Yeah? You're going home? Are you sure you don't need my help at all?"

Yes, Jimin would've liked to say but it was hard when he was still slurring his words, brain moving annoyingly slow. He shouldn't have drunk, shouldn't have stayed when Jungkook invited him to. Getting lost in the woods and wandering around for the rest of the night was still less humiliating than this.

"I don't need your help... but I'll allow you to carry me if you want to do it so badly."

[estrxlar]

The Ghost Of You

03 - Music Room 3007

Chapters songs:

*Dagger; Slowdive

On The Level; Mac Demarco

F song; Strawberry Guy

^^^ when including * in chapters next to a song, that means it is a song that will be performed in the chapter.

———

— Y.L. Perspective

      "Sunshine girl is sleeping. She falls in dreams alone," sings Toruku in a calming tone into a microphone, along with the strumming of a guitar. "And me, I am her dagger. Too numb to feel her pain."

     "The world is full of noise, yes. I hear it all the time. And me, I am your dagger. You know I am your wound." I join in, adding onto his

      The words we sang were truly upsetting. About a boy, a lover, who is aware he's hurting the girl he loves. I couldn't compare any relationship I'd ever been through to those lyrics.

      Although one had always caught my eye: "I didn't really lose you, I just lost it for a while." It was easy to automatically think of the boy I was duetting with when we covered this; for some time now, Toruku has had small feelings for me.

       One of the things that repelled me from a relationship with him was the idea that it would end horribly, and that it would potentially ruin our relationship.

      Not to mention how much drama that would cause for two other unproblematic teenagers who were only trying to make a living off of their talent: Hikishi and Giki.

      But today wasn't about what would happen between the two of us— today was her day.

     "I thought I heard your whisper, it happens all the time." And with that, the song is brought to an ending, followed by my gaze met with the blonde boy.

       "That was, once again, better than before. But I feel as if it's missing something." He explains, as he removed the wooden instrument from his arm and leaned it against the bean bag he sat in.

       Music room 3007 contained the following: I couple of bean bag seats, a coffee table, a vending machine, almost every instrument in existence in an extra storage room, tools used to record and analyze music, and posters + records we kept throughout the years.

       Truth is, music room 3007 wasn't even really a part of the school anymore. Sure, it was still on maps and the district still paid the electricity, cable, and water bill. But barely any students or teachers paid much attention to it, for it was stuffed behind the gyms, which were two large buildings that would block out any view of the smaller one that stood behind it.

      'I hope Sugawara won't have any problem with finding this place.' I think to myself, as I stand from the chair to turn the camera and microphone off.

      We would set up different amps, microphones, and cameras when recording a cover of a song. This time, it was a basic acoustic from 1993, named 'Dagger' by Slowdive.

     After turning it all off, I plop back onto the cushion. "I think we've don't this quite enough times already, 'Ruku. We should upload it already and get on to the second song. I mean, we've been here a whole hour trying to perfect 'Dagger'." I say, removing my uniform's blazer, and throwing it across the coffee table. Next came my tie, and I unhooked the first two small buttons of my white collared shirt. The music room got hot when so many electronics were in use.

     "Maybe you're right. We should probably get onto another song." He replied, running his hands in the bridge of his nose and down his neck.

      I quickly stand up from my chair and stand behind him, leaning onto his shoulders. "I think you're just tired. Are you sure you wouldn't wanna go home?"

      Toruku runs a hand up my arm, patting my shoulder, then sighs heavily. I couldn't imagine how tired he must be after today. His thoughts must've been wearing him down. "Yes, I'm sure. Besides, I don't wanna leave you all alone."

      "No need, Sugawara will help me get home, remember?" I ask him, followed by a moan of protest. It worried me that Sugawara and Toruku most likely wouldn't get along, especially since both seemed so compatible at first.

      Both his hands leave mine and lay in his lap. "And what's with this Suga guy, Y/n? Is he your buddy?" His voice echoed through the band room, stabbing the back of my brain while I think for an answer that wouldn't sound suspicious. I would say no, but who knew what the future could hold.

"I dunno. But he means no harm! At least I think so.." Tired from squatting, I lift to stand on both feet properly. Toruku slides his hand away from my figure and brings it towards his face. It covers his mouth as he once again sighs. "You seem tired after today, Ruku. Is it because of Moku?"

Hopefully, I hadn't overstepped any boundaries with what I had said. Hopefully, I was remotely correct about why he looked so down. "Yeah, it is. I won't act as if it doesn't bother me because I know it bothers you too. Although it's been three years, I still feel very guilty for going on without her."

'At least he knows I'm here with him.' I thought, moving to the bean bag I had been in just a few moments ago. By her, I meant Torukus passed girlfriend, and my best friend: the reason I practically stopped living at the age of fifteen. Honestly, Toruku and I weren't even really that close. I knew her as her boyfriend and he knew me as her best friend. And as close as we were to her, we were never friends. Moku's death only brought us closer to each other, stirring up the beginning of a rock band.

      "I know what you mean. I do. Thankfully, this birthday of hers went better than the last two, wouldn't you say?" I ask, leaning on my elbows that sat on my knees.

      "Definitely. The previous ones all ended up in fights and long makeups. I guess we're just more laid back about it now," He explains, getting up from his seat, and browsing the instruments that were hung on the wall. His fingers wrap around his belt loops as he stands. "I feel bad for getting over her so quickly."

       "I know exactly what you mean. Never forget that I'm right here next to you, Toruku. That we've gotten through this together instead of alone. Although I wish you had talked to me more when it had first happened, I was all alone!" I chuckle at the last part, even if it wasn't funny at all. "I think the life we made out of our relationship has turned out for the better. Look where we are now: moving to American in about a year to sign to a label. Wouldn't she be proud we've gotten so far?"

      "Maybe you're right," Toruku says, leaning against the back wall. His hair danced over his eyes barely, as they stared right at me. "Maybe you should hit up Toru and Hajime, ask how they're doing. They went through this too, you know."

      "Yeah, I know. I haven't because I'm afraid of what they'll say, or if they even say anything at all. They're both a part of a very different social class after all. If anything, I'll probably get a simple thumbs up on my message." My voice grows low, expressing my tiredness from this conversation already.

      Toru and Hajime were two other people that used to be in my friend group with Moku throughout our childhood. Both were loud and expressive and played volleyball, but they were also very kind and friendly towards Moku, Toruku, and me. Once middle school had started, the five of us grew closer and closer by the second. We joined volleyball clubs, hung out at our houses practically every day, and grew popular throughout the years. But once Moku had passed, we all fell apart. She was what held us together after all.

       Both Hajime and Toru decided to go to another high school, and Toruku and I went to another. After that, we hadn't heard a single word from them.

      "It's worth a try, Y/n. We wouldn't want to seem inconsiderate." Toruku says as he pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his pockets, as well as a lighter. After lighting one, the smoke leaves his mouth slowly, as he continues. "I wish you would at least try to make amends between them. You were closer to them than I ever was."

     "I'll try. Just not now."

———

       After another hour of practice with Toruku, the two of us stood silent on our phones while we waited for Sugawara. Something told me that he had gotten lost. Either that, or he just forgot about me, which I wouldn't blame him for.

       But right when I was about to tell Toruku that we should go home, a message from an unknown number had shown up on the top of my phone screen that alarmed me.

      [Text Message: ###-###-####]

Hey, I can't find the music room. It's not on the school campus. Either that, or it's the most invisible classroom ever brought to this school.

     [Reply to ###-###-####]

I'm assuming this is Sugawara? Sorry, I don't have your number saved. If otherwise, the wrong number.

       After the second the message gave me a preview, I fully entered the screen. It had a profile picture, but not a contact name. Although, that was my very first-year-like of me to be irresponsible. [Sugawara] read the title after I'd edited it, and nothing more. Only a few brief messages that we had just sent to each other.

Sugawara

  

Hey, I can't find the music room. It's not on school campus. Either that, or it's the most invisible classroom ever brought to this school.

I'm assuming this is Sugawara? Sorry, I don't have your number saved. If otherwise, the wrong number.

Actually, right number! But seriously... I have no idea where the hell you are. Is it off-campus? I might just cry if I don't figure this out. I've been at it for a solid ten minutes.

Ten minutes?? Damn boy, you could've just asked to meet me in the cafeteria or something. Toruku and I have been waiting here for a while as well.

Sorry!!

No need to apologize.

- you have started sharing your location with {Sugawara}-

Thanks. See you in a bit.

      After discussing where I was hanging, I decided to look more into this saved contact. 'Had I really been so close to him as to have discussions with him?' I think as I decide to read a few more messages above our most recent convo. They only consisted of homework answers, tutoring questions, and a few more comments about school festivals and such. A good ten invites to a volleyball game were stored in there as well. I hadn't realized how much he had meant to me just two years ago. Time flies, taking most of your memories with you.

      A few more moments went by before a knock came upon the room's entrance door, as well as the voice of someone behind it. "Uhm— hello..? Is this the right room?"

     "No, go away," Toruku replies in a deeper, scarier voice as he shuffled towards the door to reveal Sugawara standing there alone with a frightened expression.

      Suga sighed, putting a hand over his chest while he smiled. "That gave me a heart attack." He says, fixing his eyes towards my sitting figure. "Ready to go?"

     I nod, lifting from my seat and stretching out my arms while yawning loudly. "God, I'm tired," I mumble to myself, gathering my bag and the tie and jacket I had taken off, before slowly walking over towards Sugawara. "Isn't it after practice? Shouldn't you be all tired and worked out?"

    "Oh, no. Today was only focused on the new players, which honestly didn't go so well." He explained, finishing with a soft chuckle. Though I could tell it was filled with disappointment, for the way he looked down on the floor was purely depressing.

      But quickly steered the conversation another way to distract him from it; that was the least I could do. "Oh, well, today it was just Toruku and me. But thankfully we just recorded some extra vocals so we didn't have to record the rest of the teams' jobs."

     Sugawara distracts himself, taking small glances around the room as I explain to him what we did. He observes the different colors and pictures on the walls, the furniture we helped ourselves to, and the instruments gathered onto the wall. "It looks quite comfortable in here. To be honest, I'm surprised that the school even lets you decorate this place all by yourselves."

       "They didn't, they just don't know about it. It's quite convenient if you ask me.." I mumble, shuffling from one foot to the other. What I said was no lie, we were truly blessed to have had a room to ourselves here on campus. If it wasn't for the band teacher who had shown it to us, we probably would've spent our practice time in a garage where there's no AC or comfortable floors.

      Meanwhile, Toruku explained to Sugawara the reasoning behind each decoration, I check the timing. It was 6:00 PM, just in time for my mother to get home from work.

      "Should we get going?" I ask the grey-haired boy, as he's brought back to reality. He and Toruku sharply turn, pausing their supposedly intriguing conversation, as he nodded to my question.

       "I guess so. Well, thank you for showing me this place, I never would've discovered it if it wasn't for you two." Sugawara states, bowing towards the blonde boy with a cigar.

      "Alright, I'll catch you later, Y/n. And it was nice meeting you today, Sugawara." After I have a small hug to Toruku and said my goodbyes, Suga and I were out the door.

      Our walk began with the two of us climbing down a few stairs, and jogging towards where the sidewalk actually began. From there on, it was easy getting towards the main part of campus, and walking home would be a piece of cake. For Sugawara, I mean.

       "So, do you walk home every day?" I ask, tightening my hands around my bento box. The silence between us rested heavily on my chest; not a single word left his mouth.

       But it may have been because he was stuck in his own little world, for soon after my question, he blinked his eyes a couple of times and cleared his throat. "Oh, no— not really. I only walk after practice when I stay late. But on free days, like in the morning, I ride the bus."

       Nodding, I explain my way of getting to and from school as well. "Me too. Well, usually my mother would drive me before school even started. Either that or I would ride my skateboard and hide it in some gutter. You know how angry the school gets about skateboards." I laugh, hoping he'd approve of joking with school rules. But knowing Sugawara, he probably already knew I bend some.

       "Ah, yes. That's convenient. But how far did you live before moving into [Neighborhood]? Surely not too far, right?" He questions, looking down at me for an honest answer.

        I widen my eyes at this, making my answer to his questions obvious already. "Uhm.. no! Just a mile and a half away, not a big deal.." My head turns the other way while I giggle at Sugawara's shock. It wasn't a big deal for me at all, I didn't mind getting the few extra steps in the morning. As for him, he must have not had to walk that far every day to understand. I didn't blame him for being so surprised. It wasn't every day you find someone who voluntarily walks that far.

      "Oh— that's.. that's a lot! I'm sorry that you had to do that. It must have been hell! But thankfully you have someone to join you on transportation, right?" Sugawara gives me side-eyes, as a smile appeared on his pale face.

      "Yeah.. you're right." My sentence runs low in the cold, shaking as I shift from the sidewalk to the road. The pavement felt hard and slippery due to the transition from winter to spring, yet it was still freezing outside.

      "You know... it was strange bumping into you today. To be honest, I feel like I'm fifteen again. I think that's just how you make others feel, you know?" My words come out abruptly, but I didn't mind. After today's long day all I wanted was one honest conversation.

     Thankfully, Sugawara felt the same I did. "Spending time with each other must have brought back lots of memories, even if they were small." He says to me, observing the way my feet jumped from the curb to the street.

      The feeling he brought was like a scent from years ago when you're a little kid. Whether you're reading by a window, or running through a meadow, you'd forgotten it ever even tickled your senses.

     "It's kind of strange. Even if we weren't best friends, you still meant a lot to me. I'm wondering whether or not you're still the same, and if that could be brought back." I explain, drawing out my arms to make a tree-like pose while I played hopscotch with the roads. The keychains that hung on my badge made a 'clunk!' noise against the ID, meanwhile, I discussed. "We've both changed so much, Sugawara."

       "You're right, we have. But for the better, you know? I think at the moment I'm mentally healthier than in the past year. And as for you, I think anyone can see that. I don't mean that your time of grief was a mistake, but I'm happy that you've been nicer to yourself."

       "Yeah, me too." My words stutter, interrupted by the loud engine behind me. Sugawara and I quickly turn towards the noise, widening our eyes at how close the vehicle was. Suddenly, an ear-piercing honk is signaled from the driver, and I'm quickly pulled from in front of the car to under a streetlight in one's arms.

       The action is hasty and happened in just a split second, but enough to save me from being run over. Barely comprehending what had just occurred, I freeze in place just like the slippery road. And as the car honks off, I'm left, once again, alone with Suga. Only this time, uncomfortably in his arms.

     Lightning travels down my back once I realize I was being held by a stronger, warmer body. Both my arms were being tightly held by his, and my body barely being separated from his by an inch. I stared right into his eyes, as he did so as well.

     "Y/n, you. you've got to be careful. Be careful."

      Sugawara's words ring in my ears, as I rapidly blink to regain consciousness. Immediately after, a scatter to search for my school bag, which was thrown only a few feet away from me. After retrieving it, I quickly stand onto my feet and turn to Suga, who's already prepared to continue our walk.

      "I'll be careful."

      With that, the two of us continue our journey towards home in silence once more.

      I've gotta be careful with Sugawara.

——

Thanks for coming back to read :) I know my story is crappy but I've only been writing for a little so you could understand why. Please please vote for my chapters, thank you.

- star

[sainadazai]

When your crush is angry all the time

Ch.4

I wanna be an intern too, you ragedy ann looking ass hoe 😠



Y/n pov

°•○●○•°•○●○•°

All goes well when you are ignorant is what my dear best friend would say to me now, as I sit in the very back of the class unfocused on how our teacher is introducing an activity I have no chance of participating in. All I knew was that when Mr. Aizawa walked up to the board and wrote names of people getting offers, I wasn't one of them. Not that I expected to be, considering I wasn't in the sports festival, let alone the school at all back then. 

However, I did notice a small inconsistency in the order of the most offers. I was pretty sure that boom boom had gotten first place in the festival, him being there is what convinced me to transfer, but his name was actually second on the board. 

Todoroki had taken the place of first as far as offers were concerned. Todoroki the nice boy who I used to meet when I snuck away from my fucking prison cell. Call me privileged for complaining about living in a mansion All my life, but I much prefer being here. With common folk. They ground me. 

I peeked up from my phone at the red and white head of hair in front of me, he didn't seem all that fazed. Although maybe it was just the lack of seeing his face that made me believe he couldn't care less about all but one of those offers. Still, his business is his, and my business is the new Ao3 update on my favorite chrollo lucilfer fanfiction. What a babe. 

I decided that the class as of right now would be of no importance to me, considering I will have no offers, and bakugou-the reason I came here- hates me like I'm a piece of gum stuck under his shoe.  Through that conclusion I allowed myself to dissolve into the world of hxh and forget about how boring this world is. 

Could my power beat Killua or go in a fight? I mean, it doesn't enhance my strength like they did trying to get into Killua's house so physically they must be stronger. 

"Y/n! Is there something you would like to share with the class?"

Mr.Aizawas voice seemed almost shot at me as my gaze rose from my phone in my lap to meet him at the front of the room. He looked displeased to say the least. Well good for him, im displeased too, I might not be able to beat a fucking twelve year old in combat. 

"Huh?"

"You were grumbling, what's so important you had to tell us, hm?"

I thought it through for a second- just kidding, I never think anything through. 

"Oh, well I wasn't sure if I could beat Gon in a fight, but I'm not coming to the realization that if Chrollo is my boyfriend, I shouldn't have to fight anyone at all. I can just be a pretty face in the backgrounds and then after he wins for me i'll suck his-"

"Enough, y/n." Mr.Aizawa no longer held a tired looking face, his eyes were wide and an uncomfortable cringed was set on his face. As I peered at the rest of the class many also had shocked eyes, but unlike our teacher, held faint blushes. 

Minus midoriya, his face was completely red and his eyes void of life. I must've killed him, huh. 

"Wait!"

In an attempt to regain some dignity, I tried to correct myself.

"I would....not suck his-?"

"Don't even say it, shitty princess !"

"Woah bakugou, you spoke to me on purpose!?"

"Shut up!"

"Hey, how come you call me princess, you like me or something?"

He growled at that, neither of us paying mind to the fact that everyone in the class was either dead from nosebleeds or extremely uncomfortable and staring at us.  

"Its cuz you act fucking entitled like a princess"

"I'll be your pillow princes-"

"Enough!" A robotic-like hand sliced the air in front of me. The voice sounded firm, almost more teacher-like than our teacher's voice. I followed my gaze up the hand, not failing to notice how as I drew up the guy's arm his muscles only seemed to get bigger and bigger and- iida? 

"Oh class rep-"

"Y/n this vulgar language and border-line harassment needs to cease immediately. I will not tolerante overtly sexual language and acts in this class-"

As he was speaking I noticed something ironic about the situation. If everyone here didn't like sexual jokes or banter, how were they so flustered at comments that objectively should be unknown to them. 

"How did you know what I meant, iida?" I rasped in a low sultry voice, allowing my fingers to dance up his arm starting at the wrist in front of my face. 

I heard a few chuckles from, who I would say are the only two people enjoying this situation: kaminari and...stinky mineta. Iida's face grew more red than previously and the arms in front of me began shaking. 

"Mr.Aizawa it seems I've disarmed the robot. Is there a restart button or something?" I question with a serious face using the search as an excuse to wonder my eyes all over his body. Perverted? Yes. Rightfully attracted to this giant hunk of a nerd. Yes ×10. 

"No, there is not." Todoroki, who was in front of me, finally turned around to address me. I guess he was unfazed by my words. Looks like someone here can be cool. Whether he is okay because he is more comfortable with sexual jokes, or because he has yet to pick up on them, its nice that somebody in here can still function. Otherwise, I'd feel like a nuisance. 

"Y/n I'm not really sure how to- let's just say to have detention with your m- midnight. Detention. Yeah." Aizawa publicly convinced himself of my punishment? 

"Okay"

"Now, back to this, even if you didn't get any offers ALL of you will have an internship" 

And so went on the class, kids chose their hero names, not me though. I wasn't even sure I wanted to be a hero at all, this was just a little less boring and sad than the way I lived before. This school had people who laughed in joy, not just to mask the pain. That was the real benefit, not being a hero, or being strong. Likely no one here realized that there were many places where none of this joy was possible. 

Some of the kids in class gave me suggestions for a hero name, but I didn't like them anyway. They lacked personality, and while I have many adjectives to describe my personality, my life, none of them are all that heroic. 

"Dark element"

"Girl who will die if her quirk doesnt like its environment" 

See, I'm not the best at this. Even bakugan names had some sense to it...well no. I'd say we're about the same, but still. Ugh. 

~timeskip~ 

Bakugou pov 😠

She came up with no hero names. Fucking entitled brat. Everyone at this lunch table seems to have no problem with the fact that she is here, just happy to have another pair of tits to stare at like perverts. Their gross. I bet she doesn't even want to be a hero, she sure as hell doesn't act like it. We don't even know what her whole quirk is. Ive seen her do that plant shit a couple times, fucking with flowers or whatever. Still, there's more to it. Something we don't know, at least. Cuz in the middle of class she gets up and whispers to Aizawa and he just lets her go. Where the fuck does she go? 

Interrupts class, got into the school because her moms a teacher, won't use her quirk. What a nuisance, I can't believe she is not expelled yet. Plus those bullshit sex jokes are so shitty. She is obviously faking something when she does them. Not like midnight, who always at least seems like she means that gross shit. 

"Hey, who did you guys choose for your internship? I haven't chosen yet."

"The number three hero guy," I spoke, knowing I'm the only person here who already chose. 

"Really? Best jeanist! That's so cool, but are you sure that for you bakugou?" Shitty hair raised a shitty brow at me. 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean!?"

"Just that he seems pretty...uptight..for you?" Dunceface added, but he spoke like it was a question. Of course he is the hero for me, he is the highest ranting hero on my list. If I wanna be number one, I gotta train with the best. 

If I go to his agency I'm sure there will be a lot more action, since he is so high ranking. Then i'll get some real experience kicking villain ass, well, other than the USJ. 

"Of course he is the right option!"

"Woahhh~"

Shit. It's her voice. I honestly should applaud her for using it less often around me but, how can one small girl be so goddamn annoying. I don't even know what she has to say and I already wish she would just put a sock in it. How can someone so entitled like her, probably never had to lift a finger, walk  over here and talk like she has something to say. 

"You're working with the best jeanist! So cool, one time he saved me from a group of rapist guys, it was awesome with all these strings everywhere and I could only see half of his face. Oh and he had goofy hair too!"

Oh. I didn't really know how to respond to the girl who looked so excited about almost being violated. Another thing wrong with her? I looked back at the other people at the table to see if they knew how to respond to something like that. 

Dunceface was frozen, tape arms were frozen, shitty hair was frozen, and al��en eyes were looking like a lost puppy and trying not to cry. 

It didnt seem like the shutty princess was exactly understanding how what she just yelled was making things weird. She just stood there expectantly. She kinda looked like she thought being raped was something that must happen to everyone. Did she think that? Wouldn't put it past her weird ass. 

"Uhm...anyways, i'm sure you'll do awesome, he likes to put boys in tight jeans. Wish I could intern too, I'd love to see that boom boom~" she winked. 

A perverted joke...and then she had the audacity to wink at me. 

"You wish you could see me in tight jeans, shitty extra!"

"I know...thats what a I just said." She dead panned, blinking a couple times at me. 

"Tch, screw you!"

"I would-" 

"Can it, i don't wanna hear your shitty voice anymore"

The girl stopped herself after my words, pushing all her hair behind her head, except for the two blond stands in the front. 

(You don't have to acknowledge these if you don't want, but I made it so that they change color depending on what element your using and I thought it was hot*if you have short hair, then you just got a lil nishinoya type thing 🥰)

Lifted her obnoxious hands that moved around while she talked and made a zipper-like motion over her lips. Then she just stood there looking at me. I really wanted to just let her stand there and go back to eating. Ignore her completely and let her hope fizzle out and die or something like that. 

Yet here I am, still looking at her. Silently. Wishing she made a stupid joke so that I could stop flickering between those images I'd seen of her dancing. How even though ballet is a princess fucking dance, the pictures felt nice. Like if I was watching it live I would probably be unable to criticize it. That pissed me off, because I want to hate everything about her, but I can't hate those photos. Where she looks like she is flying, without any need for a quirk.

I see her in that weird gown, and now, in the UA uniform. I see her looking respectable, formal, and serious. Then I see her stupid little smirk as she takes pride in being able to shut up for more than a minute. 

"Why are you still standing there?"

Instead of answering, she took her hand up again, made a pinch with her fingers and unzipped her mouth. 

"I was enjoying the look in your eyes."she smiled. 

The look in my eyes? Could she tell I was seeing two different people? What the hell does that even mean? Even said it without that shitty flirt voice. Like she meant it. 

"You tryna make fun of me?"I stood up from the table to get in her face.

"Not right now, maybe later, I gotta do something." She smiled sincerely at me, for a second as she walked away, I forgot about how this conversation started. What a wierd fucking girl. I'll never respect her as a hero. Tch. (Yes, its canon he tchs even in his thoughts) 

3rd person POV 

Y/n briskly walked out of the cafeteria with a new goal in mind. She would come to remember how maybe being oblivious was a benefit in some ways, but for now, she had a clear plan .

"Mr.Aizawa, let me do an internship."

"You weren't in the festival, I can't just hand you to a hero who has no idea what you can do, y/n."

"Well, you know what I can do, right?"

"No. I'm not doing internships. Stop asking."

"That's not what I meant! You can just tell them, or I could, it's not that hard to explain. Just say i'm all- powerful or some play on words like 'she's got all the right elements' hehe, see how i mimicked your voice there?" Y/n grinned like a child. She was proud of herself. 

"No. Still not happening."

"I wanna be an intern too, you raggedy ann looking ass hoe" 

"Y/n, it doesn't make sense, insulting me to get what you want?"

"Maybe it doesn't, but I bet you feel real insecure about your hair right now."

"You already have detention, what more do you want!"

"An internship, I wanna do one with kamui Woods, I have a good reason, too. As far as my quirk control, i'm the weakest with earth, the aspect that allows me to grow and manipulate plants and stuff. That's why I've only been using that part of it all month. Im trying to get her up to speed so I can start using all four at once. He is like a tres guy, right? He manipulates earth all day long. He could teach me a lot, and that aspect of my quirk would suit his well. Please!?!?!?"

If the girl had just asked again in a normal way, his answer would have been the same. However Aizawa was taken aback to hear how much thought she put into this. From the stories of the teachers lounge, he came to understand her big life goal, was to rely fully on a rich man or woman, and do nothing at all forever. Just to try and forget about the terrible life she was destined to have because of that quirk.

This side of her was something he could not even her mother had seen, and it prompted him to speak those words she wanted to hear so badly.

"Fine." 

[regali-s]

I’LL FOLLOW YOU ➽ ZHONG LI

genre: entirely self indulgent, that’s the genre. this is just me being selfish and writing something for the first in a long time

wc: 1.5k

warnings: self indulgent. not at all a reader insert (or at least not yet i’m deciding on it still)

a/n: literally this is just for my own satisfaction. that’s it. i just want to write something for him. it’s also to get myself back into writing a little bit? i’m not gonna out this up in the tags i’ll just, let it sit here on my blog because i don’t have a large following and i feel comfortable having it here as something i wrote! as such, i won’t be doing a taglist for this um.. unless requested otherwise and if anyone’s actually interested in keeping up with it? then let me know in that case but this is really just a selfish project of mine until i decide whether or not i’ll turn it into an official work

there's the whisper of legends that are shrouded in fog, the mutterings of names that even the divine would learn to fear.

the requiem told by monsoon rains is a familiar one in celestia, a despairing melody whose tongue dances with the lick of thunder and lightning that should illuminate the heavens and all her dominions beneath. of the ruthlessness and utter destruction that would dare lift its hand against a god and arise victorious, there are to be offerings of terror and fear so potent, so violent, that it would devour what false illusion of solace is left to be found. it is the hymn of crashing waves that cry with a deafening silence, soundless and domineering as it consumes and takes and devours, until all that should remain of gods and realms will lay forgotten beneath the ocean floor.

morax is no stranger to the story of astaroth, a demon so greatly revered in terror that even celestia would pause at the mention of her name. a fallen god who was stricken down from her throne for a sin left untold, she'd be forever lost to redemption, her place with the divine left to rot with the passage of time. and yet, celestia would warn kingdoms and empires of her name — beseeched its gods to never earn her displeasure. what power is there so great, that even the heavens should hesitate against it? morax had never understood this in his youth, yet all the same, he drew no questions and dared not to ever utter a word of that monsoon demon. even in the throes of brash recklessness, he knew better than to keep dark legends in his heart, and he'd for long been content with letting that story be woven by mothers putting their children to bed.

so then why now, as golden eyes meet those of the deepest red, does he recall that particular tale?

he finds her at luhua pool beneath a lonely moon, her company welcomed by its silver glow as it encompasses her image and brings her to the light of a distant dream, paints its visage along her brown skin with a gentleness a lover would bear. he doesn't feel a wind, and yet her long, black braids and the few strands that are left to curl freely around her head, they sway ever so slightly as she faces him, appearing to him like an illusion — a mirage conjured by burning desserts and merciless suns. here beneath the moonlight, this woman of blood reds and blackened night skies pulls him into a trance and shows to him visions forbidden when she smiles, and with a voice like the softest silk and a windborne melody, she beckons him closer.

"keep me company for a while, won't you?"

it's an innocent request, her voice hiding nothing beneath it save for the promise of another body to stay by his side for the night, and morax sees no reason to refuse. thus, he finds himself next to this woman beneath a watchful moon, her companion for however long she would decide him to be.

for a while, there are no words spoken between them, a silence lulling across the surface of the water and falling over their bodies like a blanket, their world caught within these seconds that flow like molasses. she seems content to let that quietness persist, allows their words to rest on abandon and instead gazes at the stars above.  it's almost as if she's looking for something, her eyes flickering with the reflection of millions of silver lights, the taste of wistfulness that clouds pools of red would pull him in until he finds himself drowning. and in those eyes and among her stars, morax sees a certain something that he can't put a name to. it grabs a hold of his mind and leaves him wondering, until his heart begins to ache with the loss of it and his soul dances on yearning and a curious desire.

then, she speaks, and on that whisper lost to the wind, morax finds his breath disappears for a moment.

"what value is there to life?"

the question is vague yet weighted, the words behind it would overflow with what felt like a lifetime of searching. and perhaps, morax considers as he lets his eyes linger on this woman, searching has been all she had ever known. when she lets her eyes fall from the night sky and turns to him, he sees an eternity spent on want and desire, a longing for purpose — for value, yet even as she turns to him for an answer, her whispered words and the faint smile that plays across her lips seem almost hopeless. what kind of life must she have lead to have left her feeling so lost and abandoned, he ponders, and when he turns his eyes to the skies above, he wonders if he'll find an answer among those shining secrets.

for some time, he remains quiet, lets the question tumble around inside his chest and he thinks to himself. he's lived for an eternity and eons more, witnessed the rise and fall of gods and men, watched civilizations build from sand and create legends to be worshipped and idols to be forgotten, yet he finds himself wanting of an answer to her question. what value is there to life? to be born and to die? such has been the order of everything beneath the heavens — where life is created, death must inevitably follow. even the divine, as he'd long known, are no exception, and when he thinks on the severity of it all, he lets himself think if for a moment that the very purpose of life is damnation.

and yet, he knows that there's much more to it all than that.

"the value of life is growth," he gives his answer to the wind and to her, lets his voice permeate the silence and to find solace with what they may. "we exist to live and to learn, to grow day by day with an ever-changing world. even gods are no masters of existence as they too must obey the passage of time... every living thing must adapt, and to adapt, you must learn."

when he lets his eyes wander over to her, he finds that she's already looking at him with something like wander, her attention hangs on each and every word as if he spoke to her the most sacred scripture. it invokes within him something foreign, a feeling that is lost on him and simmers beneath his chest like the beginnings of a gentle flame. and from that flame, he gives to her a promise that holds to it such great weight and severity that it stuns even himself. so bold is he with his words that he would find himself feeling bashful and embarrassed many years later, but in this moment here, he gives them to her with the strongest sincerity and utterance that his growing, learning heart can offer.

"and, if you still find yourself searching for value or reason, then take me as your own, and i'll give to you what i can."

and this woman — gods, he still has yet to learn her name and to give her his own — she looks up at him with something new in her eyes. the stars in them glisten like thousands of fireflies as she asks him quietly, "and what must i give to you in return?"

ah. morax pauses; he hadn't necessarily thought of that. he allows himself a moment to think on it as his fingers weave together, eyes drifting to where the moon and stars dance atop the waters. "all that i ask in return is that you provide me company, just as i provided you tonight. be by my side for as long as you would like to and, in return, i will be whatever it is you need of me. let's call it a contract, shall we?"

"a contract?" she parrots, tilting her head. morax notices the way her braids fall ever so slightly to the side, and he thinks that the way she peers so curiously and, perhaps a bit confused, is nearly endearing.

"but of course," he says smoothly. "this is a gain and give agreement, wouldn't you say?"

the woman turns her eyes away in thought, lips pouted in her contemplation and her brows slightly creased as she hums. "well..." she mutters, "it feels a bit... uneven, doesn't it? it feels as if i'm gaining far more than you are."

"is that how it feels?" morax raises one eyebrow, watching as his companion nods her head, still wearing that concerned expression as she awaits his response. he chuckles, the sound rumbling within his chest like a gentle timbre. "having another's company after being alone for a long time is invaluable," he tells her with confidence and a certain knowledge that takes with it the reminder of an old pain. "i can assure you that simply having you by my side will be more than enough."

his answer soothes her worries, it seems, as she allows a smile to grow where her lips once pouted. half-lidded eyes show to him the beginnings of gratitude and devotion, and hidden behind them is a promise that he'd yet to learn of.

"well then," she laughs ever so slightly, her head tilted and eyes twinkling when she looks at him. "i'll do my best not to let you down then."

[jafndaegur]

Noise of Rain | Chapter Three

Without Forgiveness, Rather than Rusted by Falsehood

Sesskag

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

A holy arrow split the moment away, surging forward in a torrent of electric blue power.

Sesshomaru’s sword lashed out, too fast to see, and yet it was not he that felled the arrow. Kagome's eyes glowed haunting and bright crimson, a cruel and pained smile on her face. The holy arrow hovered mid-air, grasped by the inky tendrils of dark energy.

"Oho? Glad to know Kikyo is using her newfound humanity the same as she always had." She glared and the arrow flipped around, hurtling back to the earth.

Below they could hear Inuyasha shouting—Sesshomaru could see his brother dive and deflect the arrow intended to attack the priestess. His brow furrowed. Plenty of resentful energy spurred the returned projectile, but none of that dazzling bright pink purification Kagome kept unfiltered.

"Think it's high time I say hi?" Her voice fluttered through the air innocently. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

He didn't answer her. Refused to answer her. Maybe once long ago, he would have given her his thoughts, maybe. But that'd been because she was different. Not a creature that sought unlimited power like this—unlimited, unclean power—but someone who would make a change her own way, through hard work and her own practice. Pointing out at the darkness, even when she traverses it.

Not this.

She descended slowly, almost ethereal, her outer layer billowing, her yukata delicate and graceful. And yet the splatters of Naraku's blood marring the green and grey cloth said otherwise.

Her shoes are dirtied—

"Kagome!" Inuyasha rushed to meet her, his feet trudging through the battlefield sludge.

Kagome landed gracefully, a few slow strides before she made it to her stumbling hanyou. The others followed close behind him, while Sesshomaru took up vigil behind her.

She reached out and embraced the hanyou in a surprisingly gentle hug. He held onto her, no words needed, only a trembling grasp.

Yet the scathing and cold voice still cut through the air. "Get away from her Inuyasha. That thing is not the Kagome you know."

Kikyo's tone perusal was scant of emotion, save her usual mocking righteousness.

Kagome's chin tilted up and she took a step back while Inuyasha whirled around to protest.

"I shouldn't have to explain myself," the priestess hummed. "But even your monk and demon slayer can sense the demonic aura coming from her."

Sango said nothing, her gaze cast to the ground.

Miroku on the other hand fumbled with his words a bit before mentioning an amendment. "It's not evil per say. Just dark."

Sesshomaru’s golden gaze narrowed. So—without her notice—the little miko had scared all of her little friends.

Kagome rested her hand on the fife tucked into her thin obi. "It isn't evil, believe it or not."

"If you let me purify you, I'd be more inclined to believe you," Kikyo bit out.

"Damn, Kikyo—it's just Kagome, what's gotten into you?" Inuyasha's brow was furrowed, and he was clearly disgruntled.

"Were you not just undead?" Sesshomaru ran his fingers through his hair. "It seems you hardly have room to speak."

Inuyasha drew in a sharp breath.

Kikyo smiled half-heartedly and drew another arrow. "And now look at my reincarnation. Fitting she took my place."

"Kikyo, what the hell are you trying to start?" Inuyasha moved to appease her.

She refused and released the arrow.

Sesshomaru was quick — and yet again something else was quicker. The ringing clang of metal struck the air and warbled, and in a blink, the fight was over.

A small boy with pulled back hair and angered eyes withdrew his scythe.

"Kohaku!" Sango shouted, pushing past the belligerent miko and mostly-confused hanyo.

"Sister," the young demon slayer offered a weak smile. "I'm happy to see you again."

No time was wasted in the barreling hug. Sango pulled her little brother close, and this time, he returned her embrace.

"How is this possible?" She looked from him, cupping his face and gazing at Kagome and back to him. "The Shikon was destroyed."

"I revived him in a sense," Kagome offered. "He's not fully alive. But he's not fully dead. We bumped into each other a month or so back. And I pulled the shard from him. Once he was dead, I brought him back."

Sesshomaru’s brow twitched. A miko wouldn't, and shouldn't, have a power as such.

"Kagome…" Inuyasha's voice offered everyone's hesitance and discomfort.

"Explain," Kikyo bit out.

Kagome crossed her arms over her chest and nodded. "But of course. There's a tea house not far from here. Our little group will make for quite some clientele, but I think what I have to say will be ill suited if we stay on the battlefield."

That much it seemed, everyone could agree on.

-‐-

Kagome despite her earlier sardonic tone, seemed on friendly basis with the teashop owner. He welcomed her with a bright smile and familiar call of her name. He waved their little group over to a nice secluded spot, away from regular patrons enough to not be egregious, but close enough to feel included with the surprisingly light atmosphere.

"The regular?" The owner asked.

She waved him off with a friendly laugh. "An extra pot and a plate of bean buns."

He nodded and scooted away.

"I helped him start this place," she pulled the fife from her obi and twirled it lazily. "This entire area was under Naraku's influence three months ago. He's from the mainland and wanted to bring a little taste of home. Once this place was cleaned out of miasma and...other obstacles—I've deceived these memories in my mind over and over again to remember just quite what they were—we built this place."

"You built this place?" Shippo echoed with a little bit of awe.

The fife waved back and forth with a sheepish giggle. "Well I decorated the place."

Inuyasha huffed.

Miroku and Sango chuckled lightly.

Even Sesshomaru, who really did seem out of place with their little pack, rolled his eyes.

The only one not bemused was Kikyo. "So you did not help with any construction."

Kagome grinned and lifted her brow, the look almost sultry. "I wouldn't be much help there, I don't have nearly enough strength for heavy lifting. But the feral undead in my control handled it just fine."

Kikyo's brow twitched and Inuyasha's amusement turned pale.

"Oh I'm sorry. Undead strikes a nerve I see," Kagone continued. "Corpse. I think that's what I would call them. They don't think much."

She pointed her flute at Sango and her brother. "Kohaku is my only and greatest exception. A feral corpse who thinks and acts almost entirely for himself."

Kohaku looked down at the table and wrinkled his nose a little.

"Corpse?" Sango's whisper was half broken, staggered.

Decorated with lies, Kagome winced. "Zombie may be better. Not really alive, not really dead. An odd mix in between."

The teashop owner brought their order and swept settings over the table quickly. He seemed to sense the tense mood and left. In the stiff silence, Kikyo graciously poured everyone a cup of tea save for Kagome, Shippo, and Sesshomaru.

Sesshomaru didn't even bat an eye, and the little fox demon busied himself with forking bean buns to care.

Lounging back, Kagome draped her arm over her knee.  

Inuyasha pushed his teacup in her direction, his ears flattened apologetically against his head.

It made her heart twinge, she'd missed her best friend.

"What right do you have playing with their lives?" Kikyo hummed, staring over the rim of her mug. "It is both the unorthodox and unethical path."

"I wish I could've seen you complain about that earlier," Kagome tapped the fife against her brow. "Tell me again, how long have you been a living human by now?"

The two mikos then engaged in another quiet round of glaring.

"The flute Kagome," Miroku piped up, trying to keep the conversation going. "What does it do?"

"This?" Kagome offered her instrument to him. "It's just an ordinary fife. However I use it to channel the resentful energy, that's what summons and brings the feral corpses to life. I named it Kangaimuryo. Like it?"

Miroku took it in a ginger hold before his eyes widened and he observed it more carefully. "There's no evil aura. There's an aura, but it's not impure."

"It's an ordinary object." Kagome took it back once he'd finished his inspection. "Although it's sturdy and can hold its own in a fight. Kohaku and I have discovered more than once that it's decent at blocking a blade."

The young demon slayer gave a reassuring nod. "Lady Kagome has been steering away smaller yokai from the Burial Mounds for months now. She uses it to both channel resentful energy and deflect physical attacks. She's skilled."

There was silence. A lingering hesitance blared the looming question that no one wanted to ask. Well, almost no one.

"Why don't you just purify them?" Kikyo rested her chin on her hand, relaxing forward. "Such a simple task for a miko."

An exasperated sigh caused Kagome's bangs to puff up before she stood and wiped off the front of her yukata. "Kohaku, will you return later?"

"Kagome…" Sango was the first to vocally protest.

Kagome smiled gently at first before sending a cruel imitation to Kikyo. "I love myself far too much to waste my reiki on small fries."

Her voice hitched just a bit. "This is easier."

"Oy Kagome!" Inuyasha stood, the table screeching as he pushed it  forward.

Sesshomaru rolled his eyes.

"I'll see you guys around," she told him gently before waving. "I have some things to settle back home."

"Home?" Came the hanyou's echo. But there was no response.

Kagome strode out of the tea house long enough to appear proud. Once out of eyesight she slouched and panted, her hand resting on her chest. The demonic energy had risen painfully with each biting nag from she-who-should-probably-not-be-named—it lashed and made restraint difficult. It had taken everything for Kagome not to react negatively.

Leaving was her best response.

"It is not easy."

The deep tenor surprised her and she twisted to see Sesshomaru standing nonchalantly beside her. A lazy flick of his eyes told her he feigned boredom. But if it was his mask, why was he interested in seeing her.

She walked forward, straightening herself out and walking evenly. "Not like it's a walk in a park."

He kept pace, even steps with no trouble maintaining stride. "And yet you walk."

Kagome hummed, well wasn't he talkative today. "You were at the Burial Mounds today. I have talismans there to let me know when anyone arrives there. So why did you go?"

"Hn."

Maybe not.

"You ever get tired of living in someone's shadow?"

The daiyoukai's brow twitched.

"Yeah, figured that's a yes." Kagome exhaled, resting her hand on the fife tucked neatly against her side. "What happened…helped with that. I'm not in her shadow anymore."

Sesshomaru’s gaze met hers.

"And that's what I'll tell myself is for the best. With the jewel gone, there's no need for me to walk the widely paved road anymore."

She didn't say why. She doubted he cared. But speaking to him and admitting she would keep on the demonic path, lightened her heart—as if Sesshomaru’s troubled silence offered acceptance.

[jaechanartz]

Sonic & the Ninja's Daughter Bonus Chapter 1 - Shadows

Bonus Chapter - Shadows

"I know I promised that I wouldn't cause trouble like that to worry you, but in that situation I didn't think I had any other choice." Emia explained, looking down at her grazed knees that were half-exposed under her knee-length leggings as she sat on the hospital bed while her uncle wrapped white bandages around her bruised arm. "I wasn't the best fighter and that monster took advantage of me. Had Sonic not been there to save me, I...I don't think I would have been able to make it out of there..."

"I see," Mijiyo replied, remaining focused on his work. "Well, either way I'm glad you're alright..."

"Uncle." To this he finally looked up at her. "Sonic has saved my life on two different occasions," she explained. "Six years ago, you were the one who saved the life of my brother and my life too. Later, that very same life was saved by Speed-o'-Sound Sonic, who has now saved it again today."

Her uncle smiled. "Ah. Yes, I think I get the picture, Emia," he said softly, placing a hand on his niece's wrist. "You're trying to tell me just how amazing and strong this Sonic fellow is, am I right?"

She nodded twice, a light blush dusting over her cheeks before her uncle lifted up her chin. At that moment, she was reminded of the last moments before the skyscraper exploded, the feeling of Sonic's war fingers underneath her chin.

Emia felt herself awkwardly blush for a moment and tried to look down before she felt Sonic's hand lift her chin up, and she saw the soft smile on his face. The moment she felt his warmth, she was somewhat calm and brave enough to look at his face again. A strange feeling started rising inside of her as she captured every feature.

She couldn't understand why she felt the way she did; that sort of thing had never happened to her before. There was just no way she could be falling for a ninja, a man she had only known for a short while; they were only friends. However, the way she felt at that one moment before the monster attack seemed to tell her otherwise. She just didn't know her own emotions anymore, and she didn't know why she was even experiencing these weird and new emotions.

"Hey, Emia. Mind if I ask you something?" her uncle asked her, bringing her back to the hospital room she was in.

"Yes? What is it?"

"Well, it's about this Sonic friend of yours," he explained, sitting down on the hospital bed next to her. "Given what you've told me about him, it seems to me that you know something that the rest of the family doesn't. Just be honest with me about this. Who is he, Emia?"

The question completely caught her off guard. How could she even answer that? She didn't want to tell her family the truth because she was afraid that she may end up hurting Sonic's trust. But even so, it was likely Sonic also knew that he wouldn't go unnoticed forever. She exhaled a deep sigh. 'I'm sorry, Sonic. I have to do this.'

And so despite her hesitance to do so, under the condition that no one else – not even their family - was to know about it, she told her uncle everything, not hiding anything from him, from the night when Sonic saved her from the trio of thugs and about how he revealed his identity as a ninja. She also included how she and Sonic were the ones who took down the Demon level monster and what he had asked her after it was defeated.

"Hm. I see," her uncle, fixing his glasses. "But you said nothing about your past to him?"

She shook her head. "All he knows is that my mother is dead. That's about it. Just please, don't tell anyone about what I've told you. I don't want to cause Sonic any more trouble!"

"Relax, dear. I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to." Mijiyo said softly with a smile. "The question is now, what are you going to do now?"

She looked directly into her uncle's eyes after momentarily closing her eyes and answered confidently, "Tell him everything."

. . .

Later that night, somewhere in the abandoned area...

"Say, did you hear? A Demon Level monster was defeated in Z-City today."

"Demon?"

"That's right, and the one responsible for defeating it was none other than her, his daughter, with the help of one of our own."

"Who might that be?"

"The last survivor of the Final 44."

"That's impossible! Why would he help her?"

"No, no, it's true. I happened to be watching the show from a distance. She's not as weak as she was all those years ago. It seems that the ninja's daughter is getting stronger."

"Interesting. Well, you're willing to believe what they call the 'rumor mill', she killed that Demon monster with her father's own kunai, too..."

"Rumors are just rumors. The main point of it is that the girl is still alive, and it's likely that the Final 44's sole survivor has sided with her. If this is the case, then the question is, what do we do now?"

"Do we attack?"

"No, I doubt that would be wise. We don't know if he is aware of the girl's past."

"Ha! Please. I highly doubt that he even knows who her father is yet! But if he does find out, then we should move. Him siding with her could be a bit of a problem for us."

"Oh, don't you worry about that. We of the Golden 37 will take things from here. The rest of you lay low for now. Leave everything to us. When the time comes, we'll know what to do."

Meanwhile...

Sonic sat under the square window at his hideout, propping one arm on his knee as moon rays gave light to the floor around him. His obsidian hair was down, cascading down his back and shoulders. He had white bandages wrapped around his forehead and left bicep, and was wearing nothing but a pair of black jeans and a baggy tank top. The memories of the monster attack were still whizzing through his mind, especially the aftermath, when she told him that she wasn't a ninja.

"Emia. Are you a ninja, too?"

"N-no. Sonic, what are you talking about?"

"Wait, you're...you're not a ninja?"

He played with a kunai with one hand. It was hers – the one she had used on that snowy night against those thugs – and he had lost track of how long he had been looking at it. 'A girl that isn't a ninja but uses kunai. How does that make any sense...?'

If Emia wasn't a ninja, then maybe it was a member of her family who she took after, but it certainly wasn't her aunt. It couldn't be her uncle, because he was a doctor, and definitely not her cousin Rin either. That only left one other option: her parents. But in the end, he really didn't know. With a sigh, he stood up and leaned on the window pane, gazing out at the abandoned area.

It was strange, though: the more time he spent with Emia, the more interesting and peculiar she became to him. He could sense something special about her the night they first met, and for some reason, he could feel as if he slowly getting closer to finding out what that special thing was. Not only that, but during that monster attack, he felt this need to protect her, but he wasn't sure whether it was because of instinct or because of something else. Something so much more. Raising the kunai in front of him, the tip of it glistened in the moonlight. A small smile played on his lips before his grey eyes gazed up at the crescent moon. At that very moment, he quietly spoke the words he really wanted to say the night he first met Emia.

"Emia. I want to know everything about you."

Chapter 4 coming soon!

See tags below for character teasers

[tarajones4]

Cay awoke early. Far earlier than she would have liked. In keeping with tradition, at least a little bit, she had slept on the other side of the manor from Niklas. Now she was awake and nearly vibrating with nerves. She looked across the guest room she used and smiled at the lace wedding gown displayed on her sewing mannequin. Today was the day. She and Nik were finally getting married after a year long engagement. They'd been through so much together, it felt like they had already been married an eternity. Yet that eternity wouldn't be long enough to express everything Cay felt for the man she had fallen in love with. The father of her children. Her soulmate.

A maid knocked at the door and came in when bid to do so. "My Lady, I've brought you breakfast. Some fresh fruit, toast, eggs, and a pot of your favorite tea." The young woman smiled brightly at her Lady and sat the tray down, taking a moment to prepare a cup of tea just how Cay liked it. "You look nervous as I did the day my Will asked me to marry him."

Cay smiled at the maid and took the offered cup gratefully. "Thank you, Marian. And aye, I've got butterflies just looking at my dress. But the good kind, you know? The kind you only get when you're on top of the world from joy." She kept smiling as Marian directed two other maids to start filling a large tub with warm water and sweet smelling oils. "How is Will, anyway? I know he took a job at the school teaching recently."

Marian grinned while she helped prepare the bath. "He's doing wonderfully, Lady Cay! The children adore him, and the few adults he teaches in the evenings all respect him. He was so happy to see that school built, since he'd been out of work for a time." She was bubbling over with happiness today, it seemed. She even hummed gently as she helped Cay into the water and began washing her hair. "We're... well... I was going to wait, but I can't hold it in anymore. We just found out we're expecting!" The effervescent woman giggled girlishly.

The bride to be gasped and grinned up at her maid. "That's wonderful news! Congratulations, luv! If you need anything at all, don't be afraid to ask. If the morning sickness starts to get to you, please feel free to appoint someone to attend your duties so you can take care of yourself." She sat back in the tub, letting the maids wash her long red curls, one of them using a small household charm she knew to dry the locks and start styling them while Cay washed. "I'm very happy for you, Marian. I really am.”

"Thank you, My Lady. You and Lord Niklas are far too kind to me." Once Cay had washed and rinsed, she helped towel her dry and brought over her garments to help her dress behind the screen. There was a knock at the door, and two footmen entered just as Cay had slipped behind the partition. They bowed to the other maids in the room and deposited a trunk at the foot of the bed. Marian clucked her tongue lightly while lacing the corset. "Really... coming in without leave, the rapscallions."

Cay chuckled as she helped pin her stays to her chemise so she could hide the straps under her wedding gown. "Good thing I was behind here, isn't it? Otherwise, they would have gotten an eyeful." Two layers of petticoats were pulled carefully over her head and tied in place, secured to the stays with looped closures. "Let's save the gown for just before we leave. Don't want to accidentally drop makeup on it."

"Of course, My Lady." Marian smiled and helped her into a dressing gown. "Shall we stay in here with you, Lady Cay? Or would you prefer to be left alone for a bit? We can easily take some time to fetch your coronet from the master suite and make certain it's polished."

"Hmm... aye, I think so. Just a little while to reflect before I finish getting ready." She stepped out from behind the screen and eyed the weathered trunk that had been brought in. "A bit of time to pray would be nice." Caoghlan walked over to the trunk and flipped it open, just staring at the two framed portraits that lay atop the other items.

The maids bowed and left the room, knowing their Lady likely wished to take time to mourn her parents' absence from such a special day.

The redhead sighed and picked up each picture, kissing the glass softly before setting them aside. Underneath the portraits was a reverently folded gown of perfectly preserved white fabric. She pulled it out and laid it across the bed, soft fingers tracing the embroidery on one of the sleeves. It was her mother's own wedding gown. She had considered wearing it, but couldn't bear the thought of having to alter it to fit her. With a sad smile, she turned back to the trunk, next pulling out a bouquet of preserved lilies and roses in soft pinks and whites. She gently sat it down next to the dress and reached in for the veil she knew her mother had kept in the chest. When she pulled the length of lace and chiffon out, an envelope fluttered to the ground.

Cay blinked and wiped away a stray tear as she reached down to pick up the envelope. On the back, it read: "To our darling daughter on her wedding day." She almost fell back at the shock of seeing her mother's neat writing nearly a year after her death. With trembling fingers, she broke the wax seal and sat next to the dress on the bed. The parchment inside was slightly brittle, having been sealed away a year ago according to the date in the upper corner. She pulled the two sheets out with a degree of trepidation and began to read.

The first page was done in her mother's elegant script, the same as the envelope.

"My dearest girl,

Today is the most glorious day of your life. I know that you've had a child before getting married and have experienced the joys of motherhood already, so I won't go on about how thrilling that is. Today is different. You'll be filled with so many emotions throughout the day, with many being similar to the day your daughter was born. But the others... oh the other feelings! You'll feel as though you're walking on air as your father leads you to Niklas. Like your heart is going to burst when he lifts the veil to give you away. Then you'll look at Nik and suddenly you'll be anchored back to Azeroth by his love for you. Because it's plain to anyone who sees that he loves you more than life itself. That he would do anything for you and your family.

I was unsure at first when you talked to me about the dashing and debonair man you pledged yourself to. But seeing you two together has assured me that you made the right choice, just as your father and I made our own so long ago. Light... it seems like forever has passed yet no time at all has at the same time. It was only yesterday I held you in my arms to nurse you after you were born. I was so scared that day, my angel. I thought for certain the Light would take you from us as it did your twin sister. You were so small and fragile and sickly. But you held on. Because even then, you were strong.

I look back at all the time we had as a family, and it cheers me to know that you've grown into a strong, independent woman. You've done your best to keep your values through every trial that you've had to endure. And Nik has been with you for each of them since you met. I'm starting to bawl as I write this, knowing that you'll be only hours from becoming a wife to your soulmate when you read it. It will be my greatest joy to see you and Nik be bonded in such a way, and I will treasure it always.

Love,

Your happily crying Mum"

Cay had tears streaming down her cheeks as she read the letter, gently caressing the parchment before bringing it up to clutch over her heart. The faint scent of jasmine floated up, reminding her of the perfume her mother favored. After a moment, she sat the parchment aside before it got too crumpled and looked at the second sheet. This looked like a letter from her father, his looping script giving him away.

"My sweet little rose,

Words can't begin to describe how I feel as I write this. I have had the distinct honor of watching you grow from a small and curious child into a beautiful and strong woman. I watched you work and study and face challenges nobody should have had to, let alone a child. Yet you overcame each trial that life threw at you. The day you took up the mantle of priestess was one of the proudest moments of my life. And I grew even more proud when you stood up for your beliefs and left your corrupted order to pursue the noble path of medicine.

I have stood by you in every decision, because that is what a loving father is supposed to do. Though I was admittedly very tested when you introduced Niklas to us. I couldn't help but feel that he had seduced you, thinking you naive or foolish. But those fears were quickly put to rest when I saw how much he truly cared for you. Though your relationship is far from conventional, I can't disparage it. After all, your mother and I didn't get married until you were old enough to stand in the wedding with us! I wanted to pledge myself to the both of you when you were able to understand it. Otherwise, the vows would have felt empty.

Now I'm sitting here thinking of your upcoming wedding day and trying not to cry in front of your mother. I'm a manly man, dammit! I'm kidding, of course, but I bet I made you laugh! I'm blubbering just as much as Sarah is, and I'm not afraid to admit it. Because all I can see in my mind is me walking you down the aisle, looking as radiant as your mother did, and then giving you away to the man you've given your heart and soul to. Then your mother and I will sit and hold our granddaughter and (hopefully) newborn grandsons as we watch you be sealed together in the Light.

Never forget, my beautiful child, I love you to the stars and back.

Your loving Papa"

Minutes passed. Or was it hours? Time seemed to have stilled as Cay read the words. Then she picked up her mother's letter and read them both again. Tears poured from the stormy eyes she had inherited from her mother and splashed onto her dressing gown. She sat like that for ages, until the tears dried and she was able to stand.

A knock came at the door, and her maid entered again, not speaking much as she helped Cay into her bridal gown. Hair was fixed, light makeup was applied, nails were manicured, her shining coronet placed. Then Marian gently lifted the veil and carefully placed the comb securely into her Lady's curls. With a last look in the mirror, Cay smiled. For the briefest moment, she thought she saw her parents smiling back at her as the front of the veil was brought down over her eyes. Then they were gone. It was time.