#//Or in such cases if he was captured and already got shaken down for anything he could use

[dutybcrne]

Imagine if Khaenri'ahn tears could solidify into crystals,,,

[trlblzd]

@astrxlfinale sent : Was life always meant to bring them at odds? The known to the unknown, at the roots of their searing souls they are Trailblazers. The walkers of stars and every inane circumstance imaginable. To think there would be a day where it'd have them head to head.

Right in the middle of the Penacony streets no less. Before them lies the shattered remnants of some poor bastard of a dream meme shattered to bits. Yet, not a single eye would be on the chaos left within their shared wake. Rather, it'd be Stelle's visage that captures him in that moment, that damnable blank (at times) expression as the fires raged within from the sight before them. Do they just like looking at hellscapes? Caelus would rudely assume for this to be the very case. Yet, his heart charges with the grit to follow through with his emotions. "Come what may, Stelle. There's something I need to tell you."

Soon it'd be his broad frame set before her, a complicated energy honed within his eyes as a hand reached forth, settling upon his fellow Trailblazer's shoulder. The crest of emotion alone could be felt not only from the squeeze applied, carefully set, but from the maelstrom that billows within his irises. For an instant, it feels as if the reality of Penacony itself was slipping away. "And y'know, at some point I felt like it just has to be me for this. Hell, high water, we've been through a hell of a lot." He'd muse, giving a soft nod before locking eyes with them. A crisp, dreamy wind would be roused from his emotion, breezing by their victorious battleground as he speaks from the heart. "Y'know that new title we got into? Blood, sweat and tears all thrust into reaching those new heights together?" A shaken sigh escapes as he decides to peel off the proverbial band-aid. "Your high score on it fucking sucks. Were you just rubbing your forehead on your phone?" Caelus laments.

SOMETIMES, THEIR SUPPOSED COUNTERPART'S devotion and determination goes towards such strange things. amidst the aftermath of all of this chaos, he stands forth to speak in a manner that is ODD & much too formal for them but they do not question it. the moment that caelus begun talking, stelle had almost INSTANTANEOUSLY started to zone out to tune out half of the words that he is saying. the near emotionless expression being amplified ( a lot more lessened ? ) the moment that he placed a hand on their shoulder. the trailblazers oftentimes interacted with each other in a strange rhythm. sometimes getting along with each other more than anyone else, most times sharing the same ideas, & often times SQUABBLING to no end.

the deadpan expression on their face ALREADY surfaced even before he had said the last part. tilting their chin down to regard him ( and to partially annoy him about their small difference in height ) --- they grunt out a sigh and shrug off his arm. " i think you should HOP OFF my dick. it was the best high score there until you decided to show off. " somehow, they did not sound all too ANNOYED about anything. their voice holding a sense of dryness to it. if he was looking to rile them up, they do not care all too much. shrugging his hand off, they sigh.

" at least i'm not the one screwing up MY score on brother hanu's shooting range. have you seen your fucking SCORE ? even that drunk pepeshi managed to score better than you did and he couldn't even REACH the screen. " they shake their head in disappointment, arms folding over their chest to mock. if they're really trying to talk serious here then they absolutely can. they will never back down from anything. even ones imposed by their fellow trailblazer.

the expression their face SHIFTS. their face absolutely condescending as they peer at him from where he stands. " also why were you even lookin' at my score ? don't be such a tool and be so obsessed with what I'M doing. as far as i can tell, you only scored two points higher than i did. " lips shift into a frown of disappointment. it's hard to tell if they are being serious about this considering that they have BUTTED heads before for less. they are just lucky that neither march nor dan heng are around to see this. otherwise, they would have been pulled away not too long ago.

" that's MEGA fan behavior, dude. seriously. "

[sxfik]

a king and his rusty throne (i'm just skin and bones)

read on ao3 • main masterlist • law school masterlist

summary: Lawyer Han Joon Hwi never yields, fighting endlessly. The court was his domain, where he held the power over his opponent. The only exception, of course, is his 5'6" passionate, animated girlfriend, Attorney Kang Sol.

request by anon: Hiii here’s a prompt I saw on twitter. Not mine. I hope op doesn’t mind me submitting this here.

kang sol a untying joonhwi’s necktie would be so...

a/n: aaaa thank you so much for sending this prompt in! this is a lot shorter than my usual stuff but i couldn't get this scene out of my head. i hit writers block on my other fic so i wrote this instead and surprisingly it was much easier to write! anyways, hopefully i can post the other one soon. as always, enjoy <3

word count: 1354 words

After solving a murder, clearing an innocent man's name and capturing an assemblyman for corruption just in his first year of law school, and going on to becoming the top prosecutor in his department, one would think prosecutor Han Joon Hwi wouldn't be shaken by anything. And to be fair, he isn't. Despite having to combat so many injustices, he wasn't one to cower in fear nor let himself get emotionally involved. No, nothing would shake him.

Oh, except for his 5'6" girlfriend who had enough passion and fire to make him doubt how well his argumentative skills really are. Just as he had walked into their shared apartment, his talkative, ardent girlfriend had already launched into discussing the latest Supreme Court case ruling.

"It doesn't make sense! Even though some of the concurrent opinions made good points, the dissenting opinions had a better line of reasoning. The court should have been a lot more divided on the decision," Kang Sol rushed out her arguments, one after the other as her hands were fevorantly emoting, as if she was preaching.

After graduating Hanguk Law School, both of them had kept in touch and despite his every effort, his love for her only grew the more time he spent with her. As he was helping her practice her main argument for her upcoming case, he couldn't take it anymore. Watching her deliver her arguments so succinctly, her voice strong and decisive, drew him to her and he kissed her, with all the love and emotion he had felt for her ever since they met. He confessed to her, right there in front of the sacred court, his hands still in her hair, his lips still red and swollen from her bites, his breathing still hurried.

Despite dating for five years, Han Joon Hwi still felt like a teenage boy watching her, head over heels and moony eyed for the fiery, clumsy girl that had stumbled into his life. Though he held the power in court, Kang Sol held the power over his heart. He was never a match for her, no matter how good his grades were, no matter what position he held. Her eyes could take him apart bit by bit, pealing back every layer until he was bare skin and bones. And he'd offer every piece of him to her before she could ask him for it. He'd kneel in front of her, time and time again, if it meant he got to keep her in his life.

It was terrifying, like looking into the vast blue ocean and contemplating just what monstrosities it held under. But as the waves crashed into him, his heart and mind was soothed, the water drawing him in until he was captured into the riptide and yanked under. And the scariest part? He didn't resist. He just let her sweep him in until the fear he held was washed away. Until an unending, unyielding peace swept over his skin, his bones. Until he was cradled and lulled by her power, her passion, her love.

He watched her grow into the woman she is today, arguing at the pots and pans in the kitchen as soon as he walked into their shared apartment. And even though the exhaustion was heavy on his shoulders and chest, the sight of her walking around their kitchen, wearing his sweater, her hair down to her shoulders, was enough to erase every bit of fatigue from his soul.

"Sol-ah, you know that argument would never hold up in court," he chuckled as she whirled to face him, her gaze narrowed. He was still in his work clothes, only pausing to discard his briefcase when he entered, before he leaned against the kitchen table to listen to his girlfriend. Watching her argue so passionately was distracting, to say the least, and it was evident in his voice. The thoughts of kissing her against the counter was overwhelming, with Sol left heavily breathing after her rant and his mind clouded with thoughts of other activities.

His gaze was still on her as she stepped closer, as his breath quickened and chest tightened. She narrowed her eyes slightly, her lips almost curving into a smirk as her hands traced up his chest, landing on his tie at the collar.

"And what arguments are acceptable, Prosecutor Han Joon Hwi?" she glanced at him, mischief dancing in her eyes as she pulled on his tie, bringing his head down to her level. Her lips paused only centimeters away from his, taunting him, and his gaze was solely focused on her soft red lips, yearning to press his against hers.

"You," he breathed out, "don't play fair, Attorney Kang Sol." Her proximity threw every rational thought out the window, the hold she had on him only growing with her closeness. If she asked for him to beg, he would as long as he was able to press against her lips, push against her body.

"Hm," she pretended to think, her gaze still on his lips, "I don't see you complaining."

Taking his chance, he surged forward to meet her lips, pressing against it insistently. Sol's hand tightened against his tie, pulling him closer to her, before her hands traced down to the buttons on his suit jacket. Unbuttoning them, she slipped her hands underneath his suit and against his white shirt, the warmth of her hands seeping through the fabric until she pushed the coat of his shoulders and discarded it on the floor.

Her hands traced over his shoulders, her grip tightening on his shoulders before her delicate hands traced up, up, up, until it reached his tie around his collar. Slowly, she untied the tie, almost like she was unwrapping a present and it took all the strength in him not to ask her, no beg her for her hands to go faster.

Her lips were addicting on his, the softness of her lips contrasting the passion of the kiss, as he buried one hand in her hair and the other cupped her jaw, pulling her in closer. Her tongue brushed against his lips and he groaned into the kiss, his voice almost guttural. It was frantic and unrefined, but he could only feel the need to have her closer, to feel her.

He turned them around, Sol now against the kitchen table as his tongue grazed her bottom lip, sucking slightly and she gasped against him. His hand left her jaw, tracing its way down to her collarbones and curving around her waist and pulling her close. Both of his hands traced down then, hooking around her thighs and lifting her until she was placed on the kitchen table.

Drawing away slightly, Sol turned her attentions towards his jaw, pressing insistent, hot kisses down until she reached his throat. Joon hwi felt his heart quicken as she sucked lightly against the skin of his throat and groan at the feel of her tongue lightly brushing the sensitive spot. It was bliss and it was enough to wind him up, enough for him to capture her lips once more and press deeper and all consuming kisses.

Her legs came to wrap around him, pulling him in closer as her hips slightly rocked up against him, the kiss swallowing his groan from her ministrations. His hands traced up from her thighs until it found the edge of her shirt and he placed his hands against her burning skin, her fire threatening to consume him. It drove him insane, the feel of her body pressed so deliciously against him, the softness of her skin enough to drive him into madness. It only made him pull her closer, ask for more, beg her to keep kissing, keep going.

"Is that a convincing argument?" she pulled away slightly, her voice was almost a whisper, her breathing heavy. Her skin was flushed red and her hair was messy, and yet she was still the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.

"I think I need more evidence," his breathing was labored, as he let her pull him into her vast ocean once more.

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 1600~

Summary: Lapis genuinely doesn’t know how many hours (Days? Months? Years?) have passed when light finally graces her eyes once again.

Ah, my first Lapis POV fic! This one has been in my drafts for ages- at least a year and a half. Feels nice to finally have it done.

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

________

Finally Free

It’s funny, in a way.

She spent thousands of years trapped inside herself, unable to form... hating the Crystal Gems... fearing the endless destructive conquest of the Diamonds... and yet in the end, the first time she falls in a battle she fought willingly she does so fighting alongside those star-bearing rebels, face-to-face with the very Diamond who abandoned her to Earth to be forgotten to begin with.

And now, she’s gone. Trapped inside herself again. It’s equal parts disorienting as it is concerning. After all, Lapis Lazuli cannot see the world beyond. She has no way of knowing if the Crystal Gems lost or won. No way of knowing if she’ll be shattered at any moment. It’s nerve-racking— suffocating! She wants out. She wants to know.

But no matter what she tries, she can’t manage to pull herself out of this formless limbo on demand. She always imagined that the next time she got struck down she’d reform in an instant... pop right back up like the next day’s dawn, ready to slice the waves and swing her fists like she’s never been shaken to her knees in the first place. Apparently not.

Despite her dearest wishes, it would seem the universe has a higher agenda.

_

Lapis genuinely doesn’t know how many hours (Days? Months? Years?) have passed when light finally graces her eyes once again.

Fittingly, it’s the ocean who greets her first as she hovers midair in the midst of reformation, arms outstretched and coursing with newfound strength as her form fully solidifies. She gently falls to her knees on the sand. With the sun’s energizing warmth kissing the gemstone on her back, she spreads her fingers through the fine granules, her relief at being free from unconsciousness’ cruel prison so palpable and overwhelming that for a moment she’s irrationally terrified she’ll poof again from the intensity of this fierce emotion alone. Her hard-light body remains solid, however. After all, she’s a stubborn Gem. There’s no way she’ll let herself poof as easily as she did this time around ever again.

Coaxing herself to her feet, she makes a clear point of judiciously surveying her surroundings. Her first big clue as to the outcome of the battle is the fact that the Diamond ships still lay broken and motionless in the shallows at the edge of the peninsula. (Not to mention the fact that the Earth is still... well, here.) Directly behind her, she finds a makeshift worktable formed out of a thick board placed over twin stacks of wood, with plenty of human tools scattered across its surface. No one appears to be hanging around Steven’s house right now, but there’s a sizable tarp thrown over the half that Blue’s ship smashed during the battle. That’s good, that insinuates that someone’s alive to begin repairs. Although, wait a minute... Her brow sharply creases as she filters back through recent memory. Wasn’t that ship still leaning against the side of the cliff when she poofed? How’d it get into the water? And how did the arm ship’s thumb get reattached?

Before she can fret about these mysteries further and and risk losing herself to a burst of paranoid panic, she hears her name called from the distance. Attentively, she whirls around, seeking its source.

It’s Peridot, sprinting right towards her across the fine sand as if the rest of this growing, changing world has somehow hurtled to an abrupt stop. But not her. Goodness, never her. She’s always in motion, always manages to be so alive.

And she... she’s changed her outfit. There’s stars everywhere, on her leggings at her knees, in the silhouette formed by the shape of her visor and hair, and plastered proudly right across her chest. Lapis can’t help but give a fond smirk at the sight. It suits her. Now she can finally represent like a true Crystal Gem.

“Lapis!” she exclaims as she crosses the final distance, lands herself face-to-face once more. “You’re finally back!”

For a minuscule moment the green eyes behind that tinted visor glitter with deep affection and relief, and her arms stretch outward as if she intends to envelop her in a tight embrace and never let go, but as oft is the case, the turbulent waves of emotion coursing through this Gem are riddled with more complexity than initial appearances let on. And if there’s one thing Lapis fails to excel at, it’s understanding how to best respond to the nuances of complex emotions. She’s never been much of a people person, even before her capture.

Eventually, the joyful familiarity within Peridot’s expression dims, and— inhaling deep— she steeples her fingers together as if she were an agate merely addressing a subordinate. The tone of her voice becomes bitingly procedural, detached.

(Try as she may, Lapis can’t block the ephemeral ache this new reality elicits at her core as the conversation continues. She clutches at her wrist, shamefully dropping her gaze to the sand.)

“Anyways,” the former Kindergarten technician says evenly, gesturing at the mess littering the beach behind them, “we have a lot of work to do. No time to waste!”

Her brow creases. “But... didn’t we win?”

“We did, yes,” she nods in confirmation. “Bismuth can explain in more depth, but she’s currently on one of the diamond ships. We’re fixing them so we can fly out as backup.”

“Backup? Backup for what?”

Peridot’s cool and collected guise crumples at this query, her hands curling into small fists as she blinks away any lingering evidence of her distress.

“Steven’s in trouble,” she reveals. “We just received a distress message from him yesterday. I’m told he returned to Homeworld with the Diamonds to discuss healing all the corrupted Gems, but...”

“Something went wrong,” she guesses, the shadow of her bangs darkening over her eyes. “They turned on him.”

“Well... we don’t really know what happened. Which is why time is of the essence!” she says with a sudden surge of positive energy, swiftly jabbing her pointer finger in the air. “Follow me, and I’ll show you where we’re working.”

Her old roommate prepares to jog away, towards the other side of the beach where the ships lay in temporary rot and ruin. Time stills in Lapis’ mind, if but for a brief moment, as she watches the sunlight glint at the upper edge of her visor, the refraction producing almost kaleidoscopic patterns in the sand. The choppy rhythm of the ocean, its undulating melody as it washes in and away from shore, uninterrupted... it almost sounds sad. She hums a few bars of a song she wrote back in her solitude, on the moon. And then she realizes, eyes widening... that she never really left that place, did she? In a way, even though she returned to Earth, it’s like she’s still stuck watching everyone from that observation sphere, still barring herself from nurturing her relationships with others out of fear.

Lapis throws her glance out towards the endless horizon, standing tall and erect as the loose pants of her new form billow against her legs in the light breeze. The long-held tension at her core releases. She’s done closing herself off from people. She’s done with feeling trapped and alone. She wants to mend her relationships, not let them erode away.

Which means... she has to at least try to make things right with Peridot. Somehow.

The tide’s pace resumes to its full intensity. At that precise moment, her friend turns on her heels, swiftly preparing to return to their work site.

“Peridot,” she says, quickly stepping forward to catch her shoulder before she can walk off, before she journeys to some distant shore where she can’t follow.

The shorter Gem freezes in place upon the utterance of her name. She doesn’t respond in words initially, lips tightly pursed. Waiting. Hoping.

(Stars, just say it!)

“I... I shouldn’t have run away,” Lapis blurts out, her form growing lighter the second that vocalization crosses the threshold from her guilt-filled subconscious to shining reality. “That was... a huge mistake. And I really wish I could make it up to you, but...” Her scattered focus shifts as she searches for something— anything— to say in further acknowledgement of her regret, eventually landing upon the shattered remnants of wood still strewn across the beach. She sighs sadly, giving her respects. “I’m pretty sure we can both agree that the barn’s a goner.”

Under her hold, Peridot’s once-tense shoulder relaxes. She makes no move to face her, however, still drinking in the no-doubt humbling sight of this planet’s boundless sea

“Well,” she begins slowly. “As long as you work to communicate with your friends whenever you feel overwhelmed in the future, and promise not to kidnap all of my morps into space again, I think we can call it even.”

She places one of her hands atop hers, the action but a small sign of their renewed goodwill.

“In any case, I’m- really glad you’re back,” she says, fondness evident in her tone.

Lapis smiles.

The ocean’s melody is no longer tinged with a companionless melancholy.

_

It’s funny how things can change.

She spent thousands of years terrified of the consequences of being caught as traitor to the Great Diamond Authority, and now she’s planning to illegally commandeer a diamond ship to fly a rescue mission into the stagnant heart of Homeworld. She’s only been a Crystal Gem for the equivalent of a few minutes, and yet she’s already reformed bolder and braver than ever before.

She feels strong. Despite the inherent danger of their task, she feels an ever-building reassurance, fighting amongst her friends. For the first time ever, she finally feels like someone has her back.

Lapis closes her eyes as she reflects on the culmination of her journey, standing confident alongside her dear friend on the bridge of Blue’s ship.

No more searching. No more running. She’s finally free.

[wrenhyperfixates]

Arachnophobia

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: Living in the Tower surrounded by superheroes can make you think your own fears don’t matter. Luckily, Loki is there to save you, both from yourself and the spiders invading your room. Warnings: one very disgusting run-in with a spider; fluff A/N: Shoutout to that one very weird looking spider in my backyard that inspired this.

“Aaaaaahhhhh!”

Peter was walking by your room when you screamed. He burst through the door, ready to web up whoever was attacking you.

“Where’s the bad guy, (y/n)?” he questioned frantically.

You pointed toward the wall opposite the bed you were standing on. He turned and quizzically raised an eyebrow. Finally, he saw the spider and walked over to it. He put his finger out and it crawled onto him. “You mean this little guy?” he chuckled. “But it’s so cute.”

“No. No, it most definitely is not,” you quickly countered. “And it’s, like, the fifth one this week. Please, just take it out of here.”

Peter shrugged and waved goodbye, walking out with the spider. You would have preferred he killed it, but you weren’t going to ask him to do that. He was Spiderman, after all. You were glad it was him who rescued you, though. Truth is, you were embarrassed of how terrified spiders made you. You would have been mortified if Tony or Nat or Thor walked in on you. And oh god, if it had been Loki you might have died. You didn’t want to appear weak or helpless to your crush. He teases you all the time as it is; you didn’t need to give him any more ammunition. Thankfully, he and most of the team were out, and you were able to avoid any questions. You hoped that that would be the last spider you saw for a while.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One sleepless week later, you were about to cave and ask for help. The spider sightings were, unfortunately, becoming more frequent. You’d started having nightmares about spiders crawling all over your skin, leaving you with a disturbing tingly sensation when you woke up. If that wasn’t enough to keep you up at night, that old urban legend about swallowing eight spiders in your sleep each year kept finding it’s way to the forefront of your mind.

Determined to get some sleep, you made your way to one of the Tower’s numerous common areas. So far, the spiders were only in your room, but you hadn’t mentioned the problem to anyone yet. You spread the cozy blanket from your bed over yourself and got comfortable on the plushy couch. You’d brought a book too, just to have an excuse for why you were sleeping on the couch in case of a run-in with one of the team’s resident insomniacs.Not that you had to worry about that. You were so tired that you were out cold the second your head hit the cushion.

What could have been hours but felt like minutes later, you were awoken by a very familiar prickly sensation on your arm. Assuming it was just the product of one of your nightmares, you tried to ignore it and go back to sleep. Much to your dismay, the feeling only became more prominent the longer you were awake. Cracking an eye open, you barely managed to stifle a scream. Sure enough, there was a spider crawling up your arm, nearly under your sleeve now. In an adrenaline-induced rush of courage, you brushed it off and smashed it with your book. Unfortunately, the encounter unearthed the deeply repressed memory that was the reason you had arachnophobia in the first place.

You’d only been five years old at the time, but incredibly outgoing and brave for your age. Alone in your family room, you were playing with some dolls while your mom got you a snack. A large black dot on the floor caught your eye, and you walked up to it. You quickly identified the mystery spot as a spider. Some part of your brain told you to wait for your mother to come back, but it seemed dead. You’d figured it would do no harm to make sure, so you decided to squash it. You quickly grabbed your doll and brought its oversized head down on the arachnid. Then disaster struck.

You were rendered a screaming mess as baby spiders came rushing forth from the mother’s body. Your mom ran down in a panic and scooped you up, rushing away from the horrific scene. She quickly brushed any of the tiny arachnids off your small frame and hugged your sobbing body to her chest. After that incident, the house was fumigated, but you were left with a crippling case of arachnophobia. Not to mention you lost your interest in playing with dolls.

It was the strength of that memory, coupled with the fear of the moment, that left you a shaking wreck on the common room’s sofa. As salty tears trailed down your face, you heard a voice call your name, but it was distant as if you were underwater. The person called out to you a few more times, but you were still too shaken to say anything, let alone comprehend who’s voice it was.

They made their way to you in the dark and pressed your mess of a self to their body. A cold hand stroked your arm as their melodic voice whispered in your ear.

“It’s ok. I’m here now, darling,” they said. “Go back to sleep.”

You don’t know if it was from the crying or the sheer terror running through your veins, but somehow you managed to fall back into a dreamless slumber.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, your mystery hero was gone and hadn’t left the slightest clue as to who they were. Sure, you technically could’ve asked around and figured it out, but you were too ashamed for that. Everyone had their own demons, and you were sure that comparatively yours would be nothing but childish fears. It wasn’t even that you necessarily thought anyone would be mean about it, but your mind always warped your thoughts until you believed your feelings were insignificant. You knew it was a bad way to be, but you couldn’t help it. Thus, you went about your day hoping your savior would reveal themself.

The rest of the day went by in a flash, and you were almost convinced that you’d dreamt the whole thing. No one had dropped any subtle hints that they were your shoulder to cry on, so you decided to make some passing remarks of your own. No one seemed to pick up on them, leaving you more confused than ever. At least you hadn’t seen any more spiders today, so that was good news. You even dared to hope you were done with the problem altogether.

Of course, nothing ever goes your way. You’d just finished your shower and there was another eight-legged menace waiting for you. This time, you weren’t able to stop the shriek from escaping your lips. Throwing on a robe, you walked backwards to where your shoes were, making sure the spider couldn’t run off. Unfortunately, a knock at the door drew your attention away, and when you looked back, the arachnid was nowhere to be found. Great, you thought, now there’s no way I’ll be able to sleep in this room tonight.

“(Y/n) are you alright,” the person at the door questioned, and you immediately recognized the voice as Loki’s. You stayed silent and debated the best course of action. Before you could say anything, he spoke again. “If you don’t respond I will have to come in to make sure you’re ok.”

You finally went over to the door and opened it a crack. “Hi Loki. Don’t worry, I’m fine. Just, uh, slipped a little.”

“I see,” he said, a slight blush crawling up his cheeks when he noticed your attire. Realizing this, you felt your face mirror his.

“Right. Well, thanks. I appreciate it.”

“No problem. You’re quite certain you’re fine? You didn’t injure yourself at all, did you?”

You figured it would be best if you just dealt with the spider on your own. Better than telling the god standing before you, right? You shook your head no, but jumped when you saw a dark spot scurrying across your peripheral vision. Alas, when you turned your head, it was already gone. Maybe you were just paranoid.

“(Y/n) what is it,” Loki said, concern lacing his voice. You tried to assure him you were fine and close the door, but he pushed it open all the way and stepped in. He gave you a stern look and said, “Don’t hide from me. Tell me what the problem is.”

Tears brimmed your eyes and your lower lip started trembling. You were determined to not look like a fool in front of Loki, though, so you put on the bravest face you could muster and once again said you were fine. Then you thought you saw another spider and your weak facade slipped completely. You were now fully crying from the stress of it all.

Loki hesitated a moment before capturing you in a gentle embrace. In a fit of embarrassment, you tried to pull away, but he was having none of that. He only held you tighter as he whispered calming words in your ear. After who knows how long, your tears subsided and you hiccoughed a few times, adding to the shame you felt.

“Darling, you needn’t keep it a secret from me any longer,” Loki said once you fully calmed down. “I already know.”

Then something clicked in your mind. Darling. It was what the person last night had called you. The cold hands still holding your body suddenly felt all too familiar. You hadn’t even entertained the idea for a second that Loki had been the one to comfort you last night. Though, it would make sense if some magic was involved in you falling back asleep so easily.

“You-you,” you stuttered, only to be cut off by a gentle shush from Loki.

“Yes, dear, it was me last night. I’m sorry I ignored your hints, but I didn’t think you actually wanted to discuss it. And, quite frankly, I don’t always now how to respond to gratitude.”

One thing still wasn’t adding up for you. You asked, “But how do you know what’s bothering me.”

“You kept saying ‘spiders’ last night. You were so shaken, it didn’t seem appropriate to press for more information,” he said, finally releasing you, but only enough to see your face.

“Oh,” was all you managed to reply, having been so out of it that you had no memory of speaking at all.

He fully let go of you and walked with purpose to one of your walls. He pressed his hands to it and they started to emit a greenish glow.

“Whatcha doing?” you questioned, still sniffling a little.

“Sensing for spiders. What, did you forget I have magic?” he teased, bringing a smile back to your face.

“What?” you questioned when his face fell. “What is it?”

Sensing his hesitation to fill you in, you reassured him that you could handle it. Deep down, you were aware that you probably didn’t want to know whatever news he felt pertinent to hide from you. The suspense was killing you, though, so you pestered Loki until he gave in.

“Darling, I’m sorry to tell you this,” he said, leading you to sit on the bed, “but there’s a spider nest in your walls.”

Your eyes widened in fear. No wonder you’d been seeing so many. Your mind threw you back into that moment from your youth. All you could imagine was the tiny spiders crawling all over your body. The way they felt on your arms, near your mouth, and in your hair. Shivers racked your body as Loki kneeled before you. He took your hands in his and moved his head so he could look into your eyes, which were currently locked on the floor.

“Stay with me now. It’s going to be ok. I’m right here.”

You couldn’t manage to choke out a response, so instead you focused on synching your breathing with the pace of his thumbs rubbing small circles on the back of your hand. You felt lightheaded, but Loki’s eyes kept you grounded in reality. Finally, you regained control of your senses.

“Th-thank you,” you said, shaking out the remaining bits of paralysis.

“You don’t need to thank me for this, dear.” Before you could protest, he continued, “Now, I can take care of the nest with my seidr, but any spiders that are scurrying about will escape my wrath. We can talk to Stark about getting an exterminator in here.”

You nodded meekly, still not able to do much else. A familiar green glow came from Loki as he worked his magic. Once he was done, he turned and smiled at you. With the threat mainly neutralized, you suddenly became very self-conscious of your attire, remembering you were still only in a robe. To be honest, you’d pictured a scenario like this before; you barely clothed and alone with Loki. Of course, it was never in a situation quite like this. You thanked him profusely and shepherded him towards the door before your mind could wander any further. Unfortunately, one of the remaining arachnids decided to make an appearance, sending you scrambling into Loki’s arms.

“There’s no way you can spend the night in here. Will you come to my room?”

Even though he’d phrased it like a question, you knew he wouldn’t let you refuse the offer. Even so, whatever scrap of pride you still possessed begged you to brave it out. Mainly though, you just wanted a good night’s sleep.

“Ok. Yeah. I think I’d like that. But, uh, do you think I could maybe change first?”

He let go of you again and nodded his head, obviously having also forgotten you were only dressed in a robe. Once you were in some more suitable sleepwear, Loki took your hand and led you to his bedroom. You’d hoped that he would cuddle you again like he had the night prior and were disappointed when he laid as far away as possible from you on the large mattress.

“Hey, Loki,” you said, bashfully. “Remember last night? Well I’m still kinda scared and was wondering if-”

“Say no more, darling.”

Loki wrapped you in his arms and placed a tender kiss on your forehead. As his melodic voice coaxed you to sleep, you decided that, spiders or not, this would not be the last time you got to snuggle with the god of mischief. Lucky for you, Loki was thinking the exact same thing.

[rk1k-hyperfixated]

OKAY I GOT A PROMPT! Markus notices Connor is unconfortable during a social event so he takes him outside to look at the stars or something. (Probably pre relationship) ♡♡

Bright. Too bright. His eyes were burning.

He resisted the urge to step aside, to call it a night - or a month, while at it. He truly needed a break from the spotlight, and from the suit he was forced to wear. How could one rebel against his program, force it to lead a revolution, but still struggle to tie a tie?

He just gave up and let it dangle around his neck, half-done. It didn’t matter.

But this event did. It had been planned specifically to celebrate New Jericho’s one-year anniversary - Markus’s pride and joy - reason why he couldn’t just up and leave. North would personally drag him back to that junkyard and strip him down to his bare minimum - hint, it did not involve limbs.

He flinched. Not because of the memory but because rA9 help him, the lights were killing his eyes.

He dimmed the brightness level but it was not helping. If anything, it only added a mild headache to his system and now Markus was stuck cursing deviancy for its unpleasant side-effects. 

He shifted his head to the other end of the room, preconstructing an escape route through the exit door, and began considering walking out when it came to his notice that he was not the only one desperate to scamper.

Right next to the door he spotted Connor. Back to the wall, body shifting back and forth, eyes drifting repeatedly towards the exit. An overall posture that screamed please get me out of here.

Markus was happy to oblige.

Wanna step out?

Brown hues snapped at him in a split second. Talk about reflex. 

Sure.

Great to know that wireless communication comes in handy when planning an escape out of your own party. But North’s eyes were on him while she gave her speech and Markus was not sure he felt like being dragged back inside with twice the audience. He nudged Simon to his side.

“I’m catching a breath outside. Tell North I’ll be back.”

“If you promise you will be back.”

"Because there’s a possibility of me eloping with Connor? Come on, we both know I’m not that lucky.”

Simon giggled and North’s glare worsened. They both cleared their throats, and Markus excused himself.

Out on the veranda, the heat of the party failed to follow and so did the light. The brightness of his vision peaked once more and he began wondering if he was maybe suffering a glitch of some sort. It turned out, this time, it was just the effect of Connor.

He was leaning against the railing, a coin flicking from one hand to the other.

“Thanks for giving me a pretext to leave my own party.”

Connor turned to him with a smile.

“Thanks for taking my job outside. I’m terrible with crowds.”

“Job?”

“Right,” he stood straight, cupped the coin in one hand and stretched out the other while mustering his most machine-like voice. “Hello, I’m Connor, the bodyguard sent to you by the DPD.”

Markus laughed at the impression and Connor’s expression softened. 

“Old habits die hard,” he added with a small shrug.

“I see that.”

Markus shook his hand as humans did.

Did humans also think of how soft the texture of the shaken hand was? 

He refused to look it up out of shame.

“So you owe me one,” said Markus, leaning against the railing. “For bringing you outside.”

“So long you stay here with me, in that case, yes.”

“Look, as much as I’d love to, I promised Simon not to elope with you. Don’t go tempting me now.”

Connor laughed softly. Markus’ chest thumped. 

“You break my heart,” said Connor, and then, out of nowhere, flung the coin at him. Markus caught it in his palm, then brought it down to graze his fingertip against the rusty edge.

“Why do you keep it?”

“It helps when I’m nervous.”

“What about now? I don’t make you nervous?”

“Not really.”

Markus scoffed. “Tell that to your spiking stress level.”

He might or might have not just heard Connor gasp.

“I haven’t been around you in a long time,” he said, “It’s my humble excitement for being in the presence of our savior.”

“Please stop talking like a cult leader.”

“Sorry, it’s my go-to programming when I’m nervous and coinless.”

Markus’s lips were permanently stuck on a smile. He lifted up his gaze and tossed the coin back at him. Connor caught it, then turned to press his back against the railing, arms crossing over his chest, soft brown eyes capturing the light of the party they left behind.

Markus thought he looked breathtaking. Then looked away.

“You know,” he started after a short silence, “You should consider closing your wireless connection when in public. You don’t want random creeps talking to you.”

“Are you a creep?”

“Is that what you call your lord and savior?”

Connor laughed. “One, I only said savior. Two, you’re not a creep because I personalized the communication via wireless access and I have you on the list of those who can connect to me without previous request.”

“How many are on the list?”

“So far, just you.”

Markus’s mouth dropped open.

“Is this a confession? I’m not prepared.”

“Too bad it’s already happening.”

His smile was innocent, almost too innocent that Markus began questioning whether there was a hidden meaning behind there somewhere.

“Then I’ll turn you down,” said Markus, leaning on only one arm to face him, “Can’t let this commemorative moment happen when I’m dressed in a secondrate suit.”

Connor’s eyes went up and down his body. Markus’s chest plate thumped louder.

“I think you look great,” he shrugged. “Well, except for the tie.”

“I think you need to upgrade your taste,” he smirked, “In ties.”

Between grinning and chuckling, Markus caught his stare and let it linger. His visionary brightness had adjusted itself by now, but Connor was still so radiantly captivating. He thought he was reading too much into this, whatever this was, when Connor reached out a hesitant hand towards his collar.

“Can I?”

Markus did not know what he was expecting when he nodded. Connor narrowed the distance between them and swift fingers came holding the tie, then began undoing it.

“You know,” Connor spoke softly, and Markus lost himself momentarily in the fluttering of his dark eyelashes. “It’s called a tie and not a knot for a reason.”

“You wound my pride.”

“What pride?”

Innocent eyelash flutter. Brown hues were now on him. And the sly smirk that curved the side of his lips had Markus experience some sort of epiphany.

“Does talking about your pride often result in your stress level skyrocketing?”

“When it’s wounded.”

A grin.

Markus knew he was fucked.

“There you go. All done. Looking sharp, dear leader.”

"Tone down the flirting. There’s only so much a man can take.”

Connor bit his bottom lip.

“And how much can you take?”

Before the door blasted open and North came stomping out, Markus gripped the hand still loose around his tie and pulled Connor to him.

“Still up for eloping?”

Connor beamed. 

“Thought you’d never ask.”

[silence-burns]

Please Hate Me //part 38

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine​ Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers

The pale cheek was rubbery and cold under your finger. You poked it again. "Are you sure he's dead?" 

Loki looked at the severed, and a little chewed, bottom half of the ambassador. "Pretty much."

The body had been laid out on top of a desk, with all the books and documents previously occupying it put on the ground. It didn't really matter in the ways of making things messy, because the suite belonging to the recently deceased ambassador was already a dusty, chaotic mess. The room was dark and narrow and made even smaller by the bookshelves lined along one wall, stealing even more space. The carpet used to be gold and thick, but now it looked just worn and tired. 

"Do we even have a plan? Like, anything in particular to look out for?" 

Loki scratched his chin, looking around next to you. "Plans are for the weak of heart. We've got something better, love—a suspicion. Now we only have to find the evidence for or against it." 

You looked at the shelves filled with old tomes to the point of almost breaking the wood. And then at the loose papers piled carelessly along two of the walls and also in the bedroom. The notes were haphazardly scribbled and left in places where a thought must've struck the man, and then left forgotten or lost. Ink was spilled on the less fortunate ones. 

"...right."

You couldn't say you were happy about it, but there was little to do about it. Whatever the ambassador was working on before he died could shed some light on his death. Now you only had to find it. 

With a deep sigh, you braced yourself and got to work. 

It soon turned out you didn’t understand a single word of it. 

"You said your spell would work and I would understand everything." You focused really hard on the wall of text in a language you'd never seen before. "And it works fine when I'm talking to the lords here, but not on this." 

Loki leaned over your shoulder to peek a glance at the text. "I have no idea. Maybe it works differently on humans? Or maybe you're just a particularly weird individual of your species." 

"Thanks." 

"Welcome, love." 

With nothing you could read, your job there was crippled. Even when Loki assured you he didn't mind doing everything himself and that it wasn't your fault, there was still a sour feeling you couldn't quite shake off. 

"I'm going to see if I can find the kitchens and get us something edible." You decided to pass the time on something at least vaguely helpful. 

Loki looked up from the notes he'd gathered from the windowsill. He’d made himself comfortable in one of the cleaner parts of the room, although unfortunately it just happened to be near the corpse. "Be careful. And please, don't kill anyone without me." 

"I'd never," you promised with a wink and left. 

The castle was huge, but empty. At first, you put in on the murder that must've shaken the people living there, but the longer you looked around, it struck you as odd. Everything was clean, even if touched by time. There must be people taking care of it, but you couldn't find any. 

Or maybe they were avoiding the outsiders. Technically, you were an alien here. 

You walked the empty corridors, enjoying the silent breeze passing through the open panels. It was strange not to see any glass in the windows, but with the weather so mild, there probably wasn't any temperature drop to worry about anyway. 

There were shadows sneaking in the corners of your vision. They could be figments of your imagination and sense of wrongness of this place. They could be the things howling in the dark. 

No. Thinking about that probably wasn't the wisest idea. In a place where thoughts apparently could shape reality, thinking merry, happy thoughts seemed like a much more rational option if one planned to survive and not be eaten by their own fears embodied. You had such plans, and even if Loki was convinced that you had absolutely no connection to magic unless it hit you in the face, it was better to stay cautious. And happy. What a lovely day it was, after all, with the creeping light avoiding particular parts of your vision, and something definitely following you. How nice would it be to meet someone. Anyone. 

Your eyes wandered off into the gardens below, where the everlasting night was laying thick. A fountain shimmered in bluish speckles of water. And behind it, the night opened its eyes. 

You might've jumped a little. Just the tiniest bit. 

But there was no denying that, just for the briefest moment, your eyes met the Queen's, posed unnaturally still among the statues. 

…and people said wishful thinking wouldn't get you anywhere. 

You hopped over the railing, and onto the moss-covered ground. The guard you'd seen before was nowhere to be found. You stared around as hard as you could, trying to pierce the shadows and strange light. It took a moment to find what you were looking for. 

From up close, the stars overhead and the stars shimmering on her skin looked like mirror images. For a moment, the night sky felt within a hand's reach. 

Not one muscle betrayed the Queen had she noticed your arrival. Her eyes were dull and completely blank—to the point where you wondered if you hadn't imagined everything. 

You stood right next to her and still weren't decapitated, which was a comfort and a good sign. You bowed stiffly, even if she didn't see it. 

"Hi," you said quietly, looking for any sign of comprehension. "I'm one of the people who came here to explain the recent murder." 

Nothing. Just the vast expanse of the night enclosed in a fading body and crumbled into a vaguely humanoid shape. The Queen only had one horn intact, white as a bone, and sharp like the crescent moon—the only one to ever be seen on the edge of the universe. 

"I wondered if you knew anything about it," you tried again. "We're doing well so far, and I'm sure we'll find the murderer eventually, so don't worry about that, but… We'd still appreciate any and all help." 

Birds chirped somewhere in the trees. Shimmering pollen flew on the light breeze squeezing through the thicket. The night turned her eyes toward you. 

It'd been a while since you cowered under the sheets, afraid of the darkness. It was a common fear among children, and one that only a few grew out of. Those eyes reminded you of those sleepless nights. 

Not a word left the bloodless lips. Not a muscle twitched. The edges of the woman blurred into the night. 

"...right. Sorry to interrupt you, Your Majesty." 

You backed away a few steps before turning your back to her. A shiver ran down your spine. If that was what fading was, you preferred death. 

*

Loki enjoyed reading, he really did. Even as a child, he'd often been found buried among the old tomes in the palace's library, or smuggling particularly interesting ones to his rooms. There was something in the way of the written word that captured his attention way better than whatever training he was forced to participate in for the sake of Odin's misplaced ambition. There was a certain rush in learning facts previously unknown and in understanding the world or the forces in it better. 

Loki felt absolutely none of that while going through the ambassador's notes. 

Most of them were full of incomprehensible babble of half-finished ideas or references that led nowhere without the books they'd been taken from. Some seemed to be copied pages, which led Loki to the conclusion that the books were not to be taken off the library grounds. 

There were a lot of dates and numbers that made little sense to him, so he put them down on the pile of things he deemed irrelevant to the investigation. The pile was growing and now consisted of several piles, forming the majority of the room's contents. 

The doors opened. Loki was relieved to see you; the dagger disappeared back up his sleeve. 

"That took you awhile," he noticed, throwing the crumbled papers to the right, onto the pile of nonsense. "I was getting worried." 

"I'm good. I got you some apples." 

The apples were a dusted orange, but tasted sweet enough to justify the unusual color. Loki leaned back in his chair and let you settle on his lap. The feeling of your body pressed into his made you share the warmth and comfort, and made some of the stress building up since morning fade away. 

"I met the Queen," you said around a mouth full of apple, and the other hand buried in Loki's hair. "She seemed nice enough. The creepiness definitely runs in the family, though." 

Some of the stress came back. "Did she… say anything?"

"Nope. I don't think she’s… aware of things. Which is a shame, because I seriously hoped she could help us." 

Loki brushed your back in wide, soothing strokes. "There is a chance she'll regain her senses one day, just for long enough to answer some questions. Fading is a complicated process." 

"You know a lot about it." 

Loki's eyes dropped to the few remaining apples. "Gods fade too sometimes." 

"Will you? One day?" 

"I am a Frost Giant, love, even if I was raised on Asgard. I'm not sure how much that complicates my case, and there is no one to ask about it anymore." 

"I'm sorry." 

Loki closed his eyes and breathed in your scent as he felt you kiss his temple, gently and with enough unfiltered love to make his heart throb almost painfully. He was lucky, even despite the mess politics brought onto him. He was luckier than he ever thought he'd be. And luckier than he thought he deserved. 

"Did you find anything interesting?" you asked with a face burrowed into the crook of his neck. 

"There was quite a lot of nonsense, but the rest highlights the ambassador's interest in the wars and mass deaths that always follow them." 

You froze. The corpse laid on the desk next to you no longer felt like something you could forget about. "...what an interesting guy. "

"Most definitely, but it's too early to judge just yet. I made a list of the books he mentioned most often. I think it'd be worth our time to pay a visit to the library to check them out and maybe ask a few questions to the people working there. They should know something about him and the dead assistant."

"We could get some more apples on our way," you offered, standing up. Loki already missed you. 

"Sure, why not. It's not like you'd take the fruit of the sacred trees from the very clearly separated part of the gardens, right?" 

"...of course. I'd never overlook that." 

You did overlook that in the end, and Loki just happened to overlook it too. Overlooking things was always more fun in good company. 

The gardens were a beautiful, lush place, bursting with colors and leaves that danced on the wind instead of falling. Some of the branches were covered in flowers so tiny they looked like ants, traveling up and down the bark. Birds too shy to leave the shadows chirped and sung. 

It was a strange change to witness, especially having in mind what the gardens were like in the morning. Whatever put them in a good mood had clearly done a good job. It made the winding paths easier to follow, and the water passing through the fountain shimmer like starlight. 

Loki shrugged when you voiced your thoughts. 

"In your world, the weather changes just as rapidly," he said, looking at his mirrored image. "Here, it's the very essence of the Edge that's capable of changing." 

It was poetic, like most things on the Edge. And just like them, the forest suddenly decided to hate you. 

First, the birds vanished, their voices cut short. 

Then, something else moved between the curled, twisted trees. Loki noticed too, and handed you one of his knives. The knives had a habit of appearing around him in just the right moments, and you loved them for it. 

And finally, the Edge decided how to make your lives difficult this time. 

The monstrosity that circled the fountain was a terror of thin legs and bulky torso, armed with too many teeth.

"Is it a spider?" you asked in a voice too high because of your heart leaping into your throat. 

"It could be, if someone really hated spiders," Loki said, but there was a smile on his face. "And it might present a problem, if we were still on Earth—but now I'm free and ready to deal with this the old-fashioned way." 

You blinked when golden light enveloped him in a flash. The green armor poured onto his body while magic danced around his fingers. The golden helmet you'd seen only once in the battle of New York, now returned in its full glory. 

You cheered as Loki stepped out, swinging a spear with a nonchalant ease only available to children forced to learn something for years against their will. 

"Kick its ass, babe!" 

Loki winked. 

The creature didn't want to have its ass kicked. It charged on its eight legs reaching far and fast. Loki striked, gutting its belly and cutting two legs off. It should've died, but it didn't. The cuts should've killed it, but they healed. 

Loki's magic should've blocked the furious mass hurtling itself at him. It didn't. 

The spell flashed a blinding yellow before it cracked like glass and shattered. The legs that were no longer cut, they hit and didn't miss. 

A gold-and-green body flew through the air with a very surprised face. The fountain crashed in a rain of water and marble, covering everything in a thin layer of dust and a thick one of mud quickly forming under your feet. 

"...Loki?"

Loki didn't answer, half buried under the stone. 

The spider turned its too big head to you. Its legs were black and covered in thick stubble. 

"Shit," you whispered. 

The spider agreed. 

You ran. 

[monsterywriting]

Zhulgan (orc) - Prologue

next part | masterlist

AN: Thank you to those who left the kind comments on my update post :) i know i said i’d post this yesterday but reading it again i wanted to fix up some stuff and ended up pretty much completely rewriting it... i hope you all enjoy the story.

word count: 7.4k

f!orc x f!reader

When the notice of war finally reached your village, half a year had already passed since the document had been signed and issued by the king. A town meeting was called and went throughout the night. The village leaders had been nervous to hear the news, not knowing if the fighting had yet to even begin or if it was already on your doorstep. It was eventually reasoned that because no soldiers had been seen in your village nor others nearby, there was no reason to panic just yet.

It wasn’t long after that a foreign platoon swept through the village of Ozryn, pillaging the grain stores and burning down every home and storefront for good measure. No one had been prepared, all the residents sleeping soundly when the attack began.

Most of the village was wiped out, people you’d known your entire life gone in a single terror-filled night. You were among the few survivors led out of Ozryn at dawn in chains, all of you still wearing your nightclothes and most barefoot. Only a fraction of the population were spared and it was immediately noticeable that they had purposefully kept the young women alive, making their motivation for taking you all prisoner all the easier to deduce.

Still, you refrained from sharing your grim observation as some in your pitiable party wept their prayers thanking the Maker for their miraculous survival. You simply didn’t have the heart to crush their hopes so soon—not when you were still trying to come up with a concrete plan for your escape

Unfortunately, the longer the group walked, the more you worried about nightfall. You no longer recognized the land and had lost track of how far from Ozryn you were, unable to concentrate on anything besides putting one foot in front of the other once the adrenaline drained out of you.

The sun was above your head when Mauve, the blacksmith’s daughter, slowed until she closed the distance between you, the chain that connected the two of you dragging along the ground. After a few moments of tense silence to see if any of the soldiers had noticed, she whispered.

“I know where we are.”

You froze in your tracks, playing off your shock as though you merely stumbled in the mud in case any of the guards actually were watching the interaction. You took in the surrounding country, willing the endless hills and marshes to suddenly become familiar to you. It still looked like a bunch of muddy grass when Mauve continued.

“We’ll come up on another village in a day or two. Tasca, halfway to Vircia.”

The names were familiar. Tasca was to the northwest of Ozryn, Vircia straight north. It made sense Mauve would have a pretty good grasp of the land, often leaving the village with her father to make deliveries. Despite the information making your planning a bit easier, your heart still sank. Another village meant another night of death, possibly more prisoners. From Mauve’s grim expression, she had come to the same conclusion.

“Keep it to yourself for now; they can’t know we’re talking,” you finally whispered back, both of you moving back apart.

It took all your willpower not to run your hands down your face in frustration, instead directing your energy to include more people in your revised escape plan.

At some point in the afternoon, the group stopped, word traveling down the procession to set up camp. You were all left to sit around, still chained together and several soldiers guarding your group. While the others all but collapsed where they stood, you forced yourself to remain on your feet, trying to get a head count of everyone who was still alive.

While you recognized all the faces, you knew only a few by first name. Winnie, the baker’s daughter, was closest to you, the only one chained behind you. Her face was relaxed as she was already asleep. Mauve looked similarly exhausted in front of you, though she still managed to remain awake as she laid sprawled on the ground. The rest were from the farming families that lived near the village, all faring marginally better, groups of sisters sitting close together to mourn their losses quietly.

Altogether there was twelve of you, six families left represented of the thirty or so that called Ozryn home- but you crushed that thought before it began.

“What are we going to do?” The elder of the two Littlerock sisters, Rose, whispered. She was around the same age as you and Mauve, the three of you in the same class when you were in school. It took you a moment to realize she was talking to you.

You look down at the Blackbriar sisters, by far the youngest members of your group, all three still teenagers. Everything was still so uncertain—such as how the twelve of you would outrun an entire platoon with horses and crossbows and the twelve of you debilitated and on foot with not a single shoe between you. The most you could share was your line of thinking, much of your plan dependent on opportunity that wasn’t likely to present itself in the middle of an enemy camp.

“We will have to wait and see if they separate us tonight,” you begin carefully, some of the older girls’ expressions flashing with disgust as they caught the subtext. “We need to gather our strength and escape. Preferably by tonight. We’re getting near Tasca; if we can get enough of a head start, we may be able to warn them and get to Vircia.

“Or, Dumir’s soldiers are already on their way and we won’t have to do anything,” you added lamely after a moment, the paltry hope you offered clearly doing little to dispel the gloom hanging in the air. The chances you would be found by anyone able to help and before nightfall were slim, and you all were just as likely to be killed in the chaos of a battle. The only true escape would be to escape on your own, something everyone had to come to grips with on their own.

When a soldier approached your group once again, everyone scrambled to huddle together, Winnie roused from her slumber and dragged close.

You alone remained standing, facing him down and doing your best to block his view of the others. Despite your best effort to keep yourself from showing any of the fear you definitely felt, you couldn’t help but take a step back when he got uncomfortably close. He grinned at you concession, the predatory look he gave you sending chills down your spine. Perhaps you wouldn’t even have until tonight to need to escape.

“All of you, get near the fire,” he finally said, ignoring you to address the group before jerking his head towards the center of camp where a large bonfire was already going strong. “What for?” You demanded in one final act of defiance, refusing to let your gaze drop when he turned back to you, annoyance twisting his features as he now loomed over you in a different threat.

Before he could say anything, a hand fell on his shoulder, the man sending the soldier away without a single order passing through his lips. You immediately recognized him as their leader, the one riding in the front of the procession and the one who had ordered the village be burned to the ground after capturing you all.

“There’s a hot meal for you all by the fire. None of my men will bother you there,” he smiled.

You didn’t trust the kindness of his words nor the honorable front he put on.  It was obviously not for any of your benefits that he protected you from the soldiers; if that were the case, none of you would be prisoners in the first place. His words did, however, give you more information about your circumstances. He needed you all alive and unharmed, if not for his soldiers or himself, then for his higher-ups and possibly until you were out of Dumir - which meant you could potentially have plenty of time to escape before finding out.

You followed after him as he turned to the fire, the others trailing close behind. He led you all to a vat hanging over the fire, soldiers serving bowls of broth and handing them out. You watched carefully as your meals were served, making sure nothing was slipped into the bowls before the hand off. Despite the likelihood of the soup already being poisoned was low, you still waited until you saw the soldiers eating before cautiously digging in.

Taking the opportunity to observe the camp’s layout, you tried to absorb your surroundings. They had set it up in a small valley, the size hidden from anyone traveling unless they happened to be right on the hills immediately surrounding it. The smoke form the fire, however, would make their location visible for miles, which meant they were either unaware that there was a village nearby or they weren’t worried about it. The former seemed even more unlikely as soldiers began to turn in to their tents despite the sun not being even close to setting. That there would be another attack that night was the more likely option.

Just as you were about to voice your observations to the others, you caught the leader staring directly at you, your eyes meeting for a brief moment before you quickly looked down at your plate. The encounter left you shaken, fearing that you had given away your intentions and ruining any chance of escape.

You woke later that evening, hours after you had been led to an empty tent and eventually fell into a fitful sleep after shaking at every noise that ventured too close to your tent. You had laid closest to the tent flap, making it a bit awkward for the others to sleep with the connecting chain but wanting to make certain that you could hear if anyone was going to enter.

There had been a guard posted outside, but as your eyes adjusted to the dark tent, you realized the camp was completely silent—save for snoring just outside the entrance.

While you don’t risk looking out and waking up the guard, you couldn’t contain your excitement as you roused everyone else from their slumber.

You couldn’t just walk out the front, the chances of the twelve people passing a sleeping guard waking him too great, but if you could crawl out the back without jostling the tent too much, then you could run up the hill and disappear in the marsh. You hurriedly whispered your plan to the others, Mauve telling them your destination should you get separated sometime in the night: the Great Gorge to the east that would lead you north, eventually near Tasca.

You, Rose and Mauve eased the back two stakes from the ground, the only injury a splinter in Rose’s finger she quickly pulled out. Once free, the canvas flapped slightly with the wind, hopefully any movement later attributed to that.

Once Mauve had the stakes, however, she got the idea to break the connecting chain, running along loops in your shackles and only fastened at the ends. While you all also had individual chains keeping your arms together, it would be much easier to move without being tethered to each other with a loud chain. Carefully looking at every link in the long chain until she found one with weak welding, she laid it on the ground and stuck the two points of the stakes into the hole, pressing down on the wider tops with both palms with all her weight until it snapped open. You all waited, everyone laying down on the chain in case the guard heard the noise.

After carefully extracting everyone in between the two people at the ends from the chain, Mauve and Rose slowly raised the fabric of the tent in the back, giving you a large enough gap to crawl out.

There was no soldier waiting to catch you as soon as you got out, fortunately. You glanced around the sides of the tent to see if there was anyone near the fire who would see all of you scaling the hill, holding on to your chains tightly as you moved so they wouldn’t make any noise.

The camp seemed deserted with the only snoring audible form the soldier that was supposed to be your guard; definitely unlikely for a camp of forty some odd men after spending the night before attacking a village to be so silent. An unease settled deep within the pit of your stomach but you brushed it aside, the more pressing matter of getting out undetected on the forefront of your mind.

The others crawled out once you signaled it was safe, immediately running as soon as you pointed them in the direction to go. Once Rose was out and gone, you held the tent open for Mauve, dropping it as soon as she was out and the two of you moving between the tents as stealthily as you could. Just as you were about to make a break for the hill, you were yanked back by your collar.

You gasped in surprise, the same soldier you had a run-in with earlier grinning once again with his sword pointed directly at you. You were caught. You tried to tell Mauve to run, but your throat was seized in panic.

Gathering every ounce of your courage, you spat in his face instead, trying to draw his attention away from Mauve so she had time to escape. It worked, his grip leaving your chain and wrapping around your neck as he shook you.

Instead of running, Mauve appeared behind him, wrapping her chain around his neck and pulling, his eyes bulging out in surprise as he dropped you with a squawk. For a moment you sat there, dazed until you realized the soldier was loud. If anyone was still in the camp, they’d definitely hear his gurgling screams. You scrambled to your feet, coughing as you gripped the shackle around your dominant hand as best you could and smashed it over the top of his head, blood spraying from the impact.

Your entire hand throbbed with pain, most acutely in your wrist. A sob escaped you almost immediately after but it had the desired effect, the soldier going limp. You stared for a moment as you watched him stare at you, twitching and then growing still. Too still. He continued to stare. You and Mauve blinked up at each other.

If he was found, it would be obvious you all escaped and in what direction. Mauve pointed at the tent and you both moved quickly to drag him back to it, you one-handed. Mauve rolled him underneath the gap while you held the loose material, careful not to get any blood on it to give yourselves that much more time.

You then ran blindly, time ticking before your group’s escape and your gruesome act were discovered. Your legs burned as you went uphill but you didn’t dare slow even after you and Mauve scaled the hill. The soldiers were already on your heels in your mind, easily following your footprints in the soft ground just as you and Mauve were following your companions’.

You weren’t sure when, but you found your hand in Mauve’s at some point as you ran, both of you tugging on the other whenever one of you stepped into a hidden pockets of water. The two of you were in the true marshland now, the tall grass making it impossible to tell where the wet soil ended and water began. The moon was but a sliver in the sky, as though she kept her light to herself to keep your trek cloaked in darkness from your pursuers. You looked over your shoulder feeling your stomach drop when the column of smoke originating from an orange glow wasn’t nearly as far as you imagined.

“How far is the ravine?” You pant, your hand and throat still throbbing.

“We should make it before dawn,” Mauve answered.

Over the course of the night, you rejoin Rose and Winnie, the latter one of the first to take off but a slow runner. None of you let her fall behind, forcing your group to move slower. It was dawn when you reached the gorge, a jagged break in the landscape with eight ghostly figures visible standing at its edge.

Rose ran ahead, pulling her sister Lily in a tight embrace. You, Mauve and Winnie, being the only members of your respective families to survive, are much slower to join, feeling awkward to interrupt the reunion and somewhat envious that there was no one for any of you to rejoin.

“You’re covered in blood!” Winnie suddenly cried out, looking at you and Mauve in horror in the morning light. You had thought the blood had been washed from you with all the water you fell into throughout the night, but if Mauve’s red face was any indication of what you looked like, you could understand the concern.

“We’re fine,” you said grimly, “but we need to assume that they found out we’re gone already and move fast.”

“Are we going to climb down?” Grace, the eldest of the four Cedar girls, asked, her voice hoarse.

You look at everyone, all covered in mud and looking about as tired as you felt. Unfortunately, your morbid gift in the tent had undoubtedly been found by now, so there could be no breaks.

“Yes,” Mauve answered for you, looking over the edge, “We can rest once we reach the bottom, but up here we’re too exposed.”

You look down as well, the slope steep but not an entirely sheer drop, likely the result of rockslides and time. Swallowing back the growing lump in your throat, you began to pick your way down, sitting forcefully whenever the rocky surface would break away under your bare feet.

A rock suddenly bounced off your back, very nearly making you lose your balance as you feared the entire thing was coming down on you. You looked up, the others also moving down the path you left. The further you descended, the colder the air grew, the small amount of sun you did have disappearing behind rock.

Contrary to what Mauve promised, you pushed the girls to continue moving, following the tapering stream north. The only way to tell the passage of time was the brightening sky, white fluffy clouds moving across the narrow strip of blue you could see. You pass natural grooves in the stone face, not quite large enough to be considered caves but which could provide a decent refuge when you do decide to stop, keeping you hidden from anyone looking from above.

You wanted to put as much distance as you could between you and the soldiers, hopefully going far enough out of their way that they couldn’t justify wasting resources searching for you. Unfortunately, none of you had much strength left to keep moving, the group forced to stop when the youngest Blackbriar girl collapsed in exhaustion.

Everyone huddled into one of the grooves, too cold and scared to split up though that was probably the wiser option. You planned to remain awake, listening for any sign that you’d been followed, but you passed out almost as soon as you leaned against the wall only to be shaken awake by Rose what felt like only a moment later and feeling entirely unrested.

Because your group was at the clear disadvantage - traveling with limited visibility in every direction with the tall cliff faces and the winding path of the ravine - you decided it would be best to travel by night, which would also allow the others time to rest.

You, Rose and Mauve remained awake to come up with a plan, Tasca still half a day’s walk away at least and no food or water to sustain the twelve of you until you reached the village. It was then you finally shared your concern that the reason you all were able to escape the night before was because the camp was empty. It was unlikely you could make it to the village before the battalion, if they did indeed leave to attack it as they had Ozryn.

Rose sobbed as you pointed out that even if you did go straight to Vircia and managed to survive without eating, none of you had any money or appropriate clothes, meaning it was still necessary to go to Tasca and hope there were still some valuables left untouched for you to take.

It was the third morning since the attack that your emotions finally hit full force, weeping silently into your hands until you finally slipped into unconsciousness, and even then the faces of the people of your village haunted you. You replayed the moments you tried escaping, running through the garden as you felt an incredible heat on your back as your home was engulfed in flames behind you. Once again you were cut off by a soldier on horseback and dragged back into the heart of the village, the faces of the stacked bodies you passed stared blankly up at you, covered in soot and blood. You thought about the same look on the soldier’s face back at the camp.

You didn’t let a single noise leave you, not wanting to wear down the others’ spirits any further. For some reason, possibly from some misguided belief that because your father had been the justice of the peace of Ozryn that you were the natural person to listen to, they were all relying on you to get them all to safety. For better or for worse, you would have to remain strong.

When you suddenly felt a hand press onto your shoulder you jumped, whipping around to see Winnie looking at you with similarly glistening eyes. You reached blindly for her and she immediately embraced you. You were grateful for her sturdy frame engulfing you, the two of you falling asleep like that, comforted by each other’s presence.

That night, you travelled again until dawn, stopped for a short rest and then looked for a way to climb out of the gorge safely. The walls were significantly less steep here - about double Rose’s, the tallest of your group, height - not nearly as much of a canyon as it had been out in the marshland. Despite that, none of you could afford any injuries in this pivotal moment in your journey. If the attack on Tasca was anything like Ozryn, the battalion was likely long gone, but you wanted to be prepared for the worst case scenario.

One of the Blackbriar girls found something better, noticing an old goat path along the cliff face with just enough space for each of you to ascend in a single-file line, the river they were brought to long gone but the route carved by countless cloven hooves remaining.

Once the group cleared the gorge, you found yourselves in a pine forest, the mud replaced with dried needles. The unfavorable terrain made everyone slow down, the sharp points of the pine needles making everyone flinch at some point or another.

“Do we all have to go?” One of the Cedar sisters suddenly piped up, her voice trembling with emotion, “Shouldn’t some of us stay in the gorge?”

You sighed, knowing her concern wasn’t entirely unfounded and likely mirrored the thoughts of most of others. You also were loath to see another ruined village, but to split up was dangerous, especially with no supplies or familiarity with the area.

“I’ll go into the village, but you should all stay close,” you answer, quickly adding, “Spread out but keep within each other’s line of sight. Run the moment you even think there might be danger.”

There were slow nods of agreement, but Mauve stepped forward to stop you from leaving.

“I should go, too,” She argued, “two sets of hands is better than one.”

You shake your head firmly, “You have the most profitable skill among us, Mauve. We need you if we’re going to make it in a larger city.”

You didn’t give anyone else time to argue, venturing through the forest the rest of the way alone. There was no smell that would suggest an entire village was burned two nights ago as you approached, but the forest was also completely silent save for the birds flitting through the tops of the trees. When you finally reached the first buildings, they were all still intact but there was no sign of life.

Entering a few of the homes confirmed your suspicion. Tasca had been deserted, likely long before just a few days ago as there was no evidence of a mad dash to get out. Nothing had been left disturbed, wardrobes and dressers carefully closed once emptied, picture frames and other personal items - things that would have been left behind if there was a sudden attack in the night - gone. Even if the soldiers hadn’t ransacked the village two nights ago, you suspected that you wouldn’t find much.

Just as you ended a fruitless search of the village center, you were suddenly seized outside the building, crying out as you were hauled by your hair out into the commons. You caught only a glimpse of your captor, bile rising in your throat as you immediately recognized the leader of the platoon.

Your heart leapt into your throat, any kind front he put up the day before gone as he glared down at you with purple-faced fury. You looked frantically around at the other soldiers surrounding you, your relief that no one else had been caught short-lived as you began to worry about your own fate.

The leader was yelling at you, but you didn't hear much as he shook you like the answers would come tumbling from your lips. You couldn’t say anything as you tried to keep your neck stiff, your stunned silence only seeming to stoke the flames of his wrath. The soldiers were silent as he dragged you to his waiting horse, snatching his riding crop from the saddle and bringing it down on your exposed calf.

You could only scream, mind completely blank with terror. It’s impossible to think, to come up with some means of getting out of this situation alive, but you were struggling to even believe you could. 

Suddenly, a horn - an unmistakeable signal for battle - blasted from the forest, seemingly from everywhere by the way the sound bounced off the pines but definitely close. Shouting erupted around you, though you were only vaguely aware of the chaos as you had gone entirely limp, no energy left in you to react to yet another dramatic turn of events. The leader attempted to pull your dead weight onto his horse, shouting for one of his men to help him, but he was alone in focusing on taking you prisoner, everyone else simply trying to survive the apparent ambush.

You managed to get a full view of the scene unfurling in front of you, not quite registering that orcs were storming into the village from the forest and attacking the platoon. In your defense, you were no where near the orcs’ lands, their shared border with Dumir to the west and definitely not extending this far south or east - orc raiders were the last thing you would expect to suddenly save you, more likely perhaps than only the king of Dumir himself or aliens.

You were released suddenly, narrowly avoiding getting stamped into the ground by the leader’s retreating horse. You ran unsure where you were going but well aware you couldn’t remain in the middle of a battle, at least having the wherewithal to go at a 90 degree angle from where the orc horde was currently pouring out of the forest in an attempt to get out of their way as fast as possible.

You could only pray that the others heard the ruckus and managed to escape, focusing on getting as much distance between you and the fight. Had you any money to bet, it would have been squarely on the orcs, but you weren’t about to stick around and risk getting killed or captured all over again, especially once they realized the village was empty.

The pines began to thin and you began to slow, believing you were nearing the gorge. You immediately skidded to a halt, your heart pounding in your chest as an entire orc caravan stared back at you, clearly as startled to see you as you were to see them.

When an old orc woman stood, you swiveled to your left and ran, though you didn’t even make it more than a few steps before you ran straight into another orc.

You floundered in his hold, unable to understand anything he was saying to you in your panic until a familiar name cut through - Ozryn. Before you could ask what he knew of your village, you heard your name, looking over your shoulder to see the others all standing there, clean and wearing different clothes. Their restraints were gone.

“We thought you’d been caught!” Winnie cried, her and the others rushing forward towards you, “It’s okay, they’re here to help.”

“You speak orcish?” You asked, still somewhat dismayed by all the things happening in such quick succession.

“No, I speak common,” the orc answered instead, much to your surprise. His accent was thick, because of his native tongue or from the tusks you weren’t certain, “The soldiers that destroyed your village trespassed on our land when they crossed into your country. We tracked them from then.”

A bitter taste was left in your mouth as you imagined how differently things would have been had they found the soldiers sooner, even if by just a few days. You would have still been at home, at this time likely taking taking your father and brother their forgotten lunches.

“I am Alkgan. Come, let’s get those chains off. Then you can bathe and change clothes, too,” he said, ushering you towards one of the wagons.

Various weapons were leaned against its wooden side, Alkgan disappearing to talk with whoever was inside the wagon. While you waited, you took in your surroundings, not quite ready to accept that you were completely safe just yet. Beasts milled around the wagons, tearing at the grass; it took you a moment to realize they were cattle, never seeing a breed so large before. The camp was populated mostly by children, from toddlers to young teens. It was obvious where most of the adults were. Few of the children paid you any mind, and those that did seemed more interested in your shackles than the group of strangers walking around the camp.

“This is Vulgud,” Alkgan said, bringing your attention back to the wagon, “He is our weaponsmith.”

The tall orc in question was stepping down from the wagon with a small iron object in hand. You had expected the chain to be broken with a large hammer on the anvil on the ground nearby. Instead, he took one of your hands and searched for the key hole, inserting the tool and seemingly randomly jiggling it around. Within moments, the shackle popped open, giving away and swinging while he repeated the process with your other hand.

You thanked Vulgud, running your finger along the bruised skin of your dominant hand’s wrist, evidence of what you did the night you escaped. It was big, spanning from your knuckles down your arm.

You quickly hid your arm as the old orc woman from before approached, a herd of young children following her. She held a bundle of clothes and ushering you towards a large basin.

Small, chubby hands of every shade of green held onto the rim, all trying to see who was in their tub. You smiled in between scrubbing the mud from your body with soap, the water thankfully opaque with all the grime and dirt from the last two days. They didn’t speak common, directing their questions in orcish to the old woman. She bared her teeth and growled, sending them all scattering, nodding to you before leaving you.

When you were finally changing into the clean set of clothes, Rose gasped, her gaze directed not to your arm but your legs. You looked down as well, noticing the welts that had grown more pronounced on your leg. You had felt the sting while you walked, but you hadn’t realized they had gotten so noticeable with all the dried mud. You pulled up the trousers, covering the marks. The clothes were clearly made for orc children, fitting your waist around but the leg not quite reaching your ankles. Fortunately, the boots you were provided made up for the difference, making the shorter length look purposeful.

Rose left the matter of your wounds at that, both of you returning to the others silently. Once you rejoined the others, Mauve filled you in on what happened while you were in Tasca.

Apparently, they had been found by the orc caravan shortly after you left, before they even had a chance to split up as you planned. They thought they were residents of the village before they saw the chains. It was a fortunate coincidence that the very people you all were running from were the same ones they spent weeks looking for.

“So, what now?” Mauve finished with a question, the others now gathered around you, “Do we still go to Vircia?”

“Shouldn’t we return home to Ozryn?” Grace argued, “The soldiers are all dead, it should be safe now!”

“Why can’t we stay here?” Winnie asked, “It’s safe; at least for a few days…”

“What if we rode along with the orcs?” Rose said, “I’m so tired of running… they’ve helped us so far. I’m sure they’ll pass by Vircia, at least.”

“You haven’t heard?” You all jumped as Alkgan approached the group, all of you watching him expectantly. “Most of the villages we passed were burned down… The larger cities are the same since humans have been fleeing Dumir through our lands for months-”

You stopped listening, despondent over the revelation. Your entire world had literally been razed to the ground just a few days ago and the final shred of hope you had been clinging to had been ripped away as well.

The others were staring at you. You could feel it, but you had no comfort or assurances to offer this time. The news was just as abrupt for you and you had no fallback. They all expected you to be like your father, always knowing exactly what to do and how to adapt, but he also never had to deal with situations of this magnitude in Ozryn so you felt entitled to take a moment.

Wordlessly, you turned around and walked away, unable to provide them the answers the so desperately wanted and overwhelmed with the weight of twelves lives you had found thrusted upon your shoulders. You had convinced yourself that everything would be alright so long as you could reach Vircia, that there would be people there who would no what to do, that you could somehow escape the rest of the war. It was the only way to convince yourself to keep moving and not just curl up and wait to reunite with your parents and brother.

Tasca gone you could handle - you had already suspected it to be the next target of the soldiers and it was always meant to be a stepping stone - but to learn that every other village and town was no longer an option…

You walked straight out of the camp, eventually leaving the forest behind and squatting down in the tall grass. You didn’t sit, not so besides yourself in grief as to dirty the borrowed clothes so soon but still trying to curl up as small as possible. You tried to dampen the nausea you’ve felt for days now, willing yourself to stop dry heaving. There was nothing in your stomach to bring up, but that fact did not stop your body from trying.

Alkgan appeared next to you at some point, plopping down on the ground and waiting for you to compose yourself before speaking.

“The others look up to you. They said you were the reason they were able to escape. Even refused to leave after we removed their shackles.”

“I see,” you croaked, not really seeing anything but wanting to be polite. You wondered why Alkgan didn’t go with the other raiders.

“You aren’t pleased that they see you as their leader?”

You snorted at that, “I’m no leader. There’s just no one else left from our village; they didn’t have any choice.”

“Of course they had a choice!” A deep rumbling that you soon realized was laughter came from deep within Alkgan’s chest as he looked down at you with amusement, the colorful beads that adorned his twin braids rattling together, “They had eleven others, or even choose no one. If you do not accept their trust, then you waste it… and you will need it if you are going to survive.”

You were taken aback by the unexpectedly profound piece of wisdom, the encouragement seemingly from out of the blue. Perhaps that was Alkgan’s role for the caravan, his insight so vital he didn’t go out into battle.

Before you could thank him for his advice, however, the sound of the horn once again echoed through the forest, signaling the return of the raiders. Before the sound even faded, Alkgan was up and walking back to the camp and you close behind, the orc woman leading the group calling out to him in orcish.

She was tall, a whole head taller than Alkgan once he was standing in front of her, who you thought was too tall already. Her armor was dented and covered in blood but she seemed to be in a good mood after the battle, baring her teeth in a gruesome smile and shaking her black plaited hair out of her helm. You gulped as she looked at you, her gaze clearly analyzing you. You were definitely intimidated, glad that you were not been the one to have crossed the orcs.

Mauve had told you that the warriors had already split off from the main group when they were found, so they definitely had no idea why a bunch of humans were in their camp. You could hear nothing while the two talked, the snippets you caught all in orcish anyways, but there was a lot of pointing and looking over at you, which was disconcerting. You stayed rooted in your spot, trying not to look as anxious as you felt while Alkgan walked back towards with you, the orc woman following him. You managed to at least maintain eye contact, even when you had to crane your neck back as they got closer.

“This is the chief of this caravan, Zhulgan,” he introduced the newcomer before turning to her and saying something in orcish.

You could definitely see a resemblance up close even without the similar names, their facial structures strikingly similar and the same mottled shades of green. The two went back and forth for a minute, both seemingly getting annoyed with the other.

The nausea flared up again as your imagination ran wild about what they were discussing, clearly about what to do with the twelve of you. The most obvious thing was being taken prisoner again. Even if your experience thus far told you differently, you felt that orcs would be a less desirable captor than fellow humans.

“We’ll be leaving soon,” Alkgan finally met your gaze once again and you relaxed slightly, though the apologetic look he gave you kept you from fully calming down, “She says… your group should leave now.”

The tension immediately returned to your shoulders. You hadn’t expected to be faced with a decision on what to do so soon, despite having just discussed you options with the others. At the time, it had seemed far away, like you had been getting in front of the issue before it became one and you hadn’t even been able to come to a consensus.

“I- but- Surely you could just stay for the night? If you can just leave in the morning-?” You floundered, trying to think of some reason that could buy you some time to figure out what to do.

“I’m sorry, but we’ve remained on this land for too long already, especially during a war. We’re low on supplies already, we must go,” Alkgan said, the pity clear in his eyes.

You were on the verge of panicking, your mind and heart racing as you willed yourself to come up with some plan, an easy fix that would knock out all your problems. You had no time, unable to pause the conversation to talk to the others, so you were forced to act on impulse.

“What if we travelled with you?” You asked, the desperation clear in your voice. It was a long shot; Alkgan knew your plan was to go north and they were heading west; not to mention that you had nothing to offer them as payment in exchange.

Alkgan didn’t even bother to translate your request before responding, “That’s not possible. You’re humans-”

Zhulgan said something in orcish, Alkgan shaking his head.

“If everyone is fleeing Dumir, we will probably need to leave, anyways.”

“You can cross the border faster here.”

“Some of the girls have family out west.” A blatant lie, but necessary to try and sway Alkgan with a plausible enough excuse. “If they left, it would have been through the orc lands.”

You suppressed every nervous tic that threatened to disrupt your straight face, willing Alkgan to take the natural next step in his argument: that you had nothing to offer. You couldn’t decide who to look at to implore - Zhulgan was the chief, but Alkgan was taking charge of the conversation - so you awkwardly flitted your gaze between the two as a compromise. Zhulgan was staring solely at you, apparently trusting her brother enough to allow him to do so.

“Well you can’t cross without-”

“-paying tribute,” you finished with just a tad too much eagerness but now confident that you could win this argument, “As you know, our village was destroyed. We have nothing of material value to offer you, but we can work off our debt. Mauve knows how to work in a forge and can work metal. We can also help you procure supplies from any of the towns- or work with your animals or help take care of the young ones-”

Alkgan laughed, boisterously loud and making you jump. Zhulgan was still watching you closely, an unreadable look flashing across her eyes, though it was possible you imagined it. You were breathing heavily, not having taken in any air during your passionate monologue. You weren’t entirely sure if Alkgan was impressed with your quick thinking or convinced that you were completely insane.

Rather than clarify, he turned to speak with Zhulgan. You had no way of gauging if the discussion was in your favor or not, Alkgan still looking amused and Zhulgan’s expression frustratingly impassive.

After what felt like an eternity, Zhulgan turned to you, her expression inscrutable. “Your group may travel with us.”

Your jaw dropped, never once suspecting that she could understand what you were saying the entire time. You were embarrassed, believing she would only get a summarized explanation of your words. Still, your proposition had been accepted either way and you were relieved.

Of course, you didn’t have long to enjoy the victory, Zhulgan ordering the orcs to begin loading the wagons. You would have to break the news to everyone else - a prospect that made you dread the role of unofficial leader anew. Grace had already expressed her desire to go home and at least some of the others must agree. However, Alkgan’s words came back to you, putting some air back into your sails. They trusted you to keep everyone safe and you wouldn’t waste it.

[capri-ramblings]

Hey, how are you? I would like to ask for a hc where y / n is Brazilian and suffers from Stockholm syndrome, making them exclaim swear words and exaggerated gestures in moments of emotion. That makes them very embarrassed. How could Lilia and Jamil help in it? I hope it's not a bother. Have a nice day. Thank you for the attention.

I read Stockholm syndrome and Yandere appeared in my head so I hope you like this! I'm sorry this took so long as well 💖 I'm sorry if this seems too vague as well (｡•́︿•̀｡)

Jamil Viper

- The language barrier was new to him. He hasn't heard anything close to your mother tongue at all and for a while Jamil doesn't really know how to react

- He knows you're distressed with how you throw you hands in vigorous gestures and how your expression contorts with such dismay.

- But the words that tumble out of your mouth is what gets him stumped. He's recognised the patterns though,you only ever speak in your tongue whenever you're under immense stress which is often ever since you started developing a certain warmth for him

- He knows capturing you and keeping you all locked up like this was bound to have messed you up, and Jamil was actually hoping for your mind to break, seeing how it would make it all the more easier for him to keep you on a leash

- But when you're spouting out nonsense he can't decipher, it's hard for him to feel happy that you're Stockholm syndrome is finally settling in.

- "Merda! Merda! Merda!" Your shallow, hisses coming from beside him on the bed is what stirs Jamil awake.

- He turns to see you hugging your knees to your body, hands practically tugging at your own hair. Jamil carefully and gently sits up, his hand coming to reach out and overlap yours, but as if jerked away from another reality, you inched away and ultimately ended falling off the bed.

- Jamil immediately got out of bed.

- "What are you doing? Don't move around like that or you're gonna hurt yourself!" His words are hushed but not gentle and his hands come up to support your shaken your body, your wide eyes catches his dark ones and you began thrashing in his arms.

- Jamil uses his strength to subdue you into calmness but he isn't too rough he'd leave bruises, well, he did the first few times you had a few of your episodes but he's learned well to control himself around you. It wasn't his desire to break you. Not like that at least.

- "Calm down,hey,it's okay." He placed one hand to the back of your head, gently pressing it against his chest where the sound of his beating heart resonated within you. The slow ticks of life inside him somehow soothing your nerves.

- Jamil doesn't comfort you with words much seeing how they had such little affect on you but his actions speaks louder than ever as he runs his fingers through your hair and sways your body ever so slightly in his arms like a child being cradled.

- He keeps his temper in check as well to accommodate with yours

- "...Tired.." He hears you murmur, hands gripping onto his tunic. Jamil arches his brows, this was the first time you actually spoke a language he understood since he's kept you. He doesn't comment on it though and instead hums gently as a reply.

- "Then,sleep. I'll hold you."

- "...Sorry... Sorry..."

- Another word he understood?

- Jamil's lips curled into a small smile.

- "Don't be. Just rest."

Lilia Vanrouge

- I think Lilia would understand you even if he isn't familiar with your language.

- He's someone with this sixth sense that helps him get around whether with people or direction. Call it an instinct.

- Similarly to Jamil though, he will act as a caretaker whenever you have one of your episodes of spouting your foreign words at him and flailing your hands as if you're really going to hit him

- Lilia goes for your hands first and always. He doesn't want you to get hurt so he'll go for your wrists or at times your arms, and he'll do it with the utmost precision which means he never fails at doing it, though he does purposely let you feel the pinch of pain from being held back. Not too much you'd cry out but enough to make you slightly go limp.

- He believes your case requires patience and a bit of discipline. If your body reacts very physically to stress then all Lilia needs to do is recondition it.

- Your foreign tongue isn't a problem either. Eventually Lilia himself starts to understand bits and pieces of what you said by putting it together with your hand gestures and expression.

- Like the other day when you hissed out the words "Porra" and "Abélula" when you accidentally dropped the cup he had placed on the small table beside your bed.

- Your brows were furrowed,your lips pursed and your nails digging into the side of your arm.

- He knew you were upset but not really at him since you didn't even notice him watching you from the door, and while you were cleaning up and cut your finger with one of the shards you threw your hands in the air and placed one fist to your head.

- "Abélula!"

- "Don't do that, you're not an idiot." Lilia's voice makes you jerk up your body and you froze right where you were kneeling down.

- Had he understood you? After all these times? You wanted to say no but then you felt Lilia's presence behind your back and later his hands coming to pick up the remaining shards of glass.

- "Don't call yourself an idiot like that"

- He was focusing on cleaning but your eyes looked directly at him, wide and astonished. He did understand.

- Somehow, that small fact had already simmered down your nerves and when Lilia came to face you with a knowing smile on his lips, your heart made a slight stutter.

- He listened and watched you closer after that, keen on understanding more of your words so that one day, he would be able to understand you fully. You began warming up to him more as well, feeling more dependent on him because in all honesty having someone dote on you despite not knowing what you said had you feeling secured. Cared for.

- And you were happy he was learning to understand your language even when there wasn't much you could teach him, you've never been the best teacher after all.

- But Lilia is smart. Soon you'd be able to talk to him by yourself.

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

Sorry for disappearing! Real life stuff. You all know the feeling. 

Gonna finish up the battle training arc~ 

[No. 10 - Breaking Bakugou]

(Technically there could be a Breaking Bad-kugou joke here. Just saying.)

Character sheet! I love how Katsuki’s described repeatedly as ‘explosively X’ for each part of him. Especially him being explosively petty. Also, confirmed canon that the skin on his palms is especially thick - likely from the callouses from the blowback of his quirk! Which means he might not necessarily be able to feel things under his palm or even fingers, depending on just how thick those callouses are. 

(Also pfft, Hori telling Katsuki to pull up his pants already.)

In case you’ve forgotten how big the explosion Katsuki just set off was. Man, just look at all the damage, I’m shocked the building didn’t outright collapse. I mean, I guess buildings are a bit sturdier than movies like to show, but still, all those cracks and faultlines, especially on the neighboring buildings… 

Anyways, neither Tenya nor Ochako are prepared for how much the building is rocked by said explosion. Ochako recovers faster and decides to take advantage by tapping her fingers to her palms and then running for the bomb. 

(Also, the bottom of her shoes squish. How is that at ALL practical to run around in???)

Tenya realizes what she’s doing and moves to intercept, while Ochako thinks about how all she needs to do to win is to touch the weapon. She leaps over Tenya, having made herself weightless with that previous palm-tap technique (as Tenya realizes out loud), and then dispells it on herself in order to let gravity take her right towards the prize. She mentions as she falls that that special move takes a lot out of her.

Tenya, however, has the speed to yoink the bomb out of her way before she can grab it, shocking her and distracting her so that she makes a tumbled landing, her helmet bouncing away as she rolls back-first into the wall. Tenya notes that her quirk is no threat so long as she can’t touch anything, and slides back into his ‘villain persona’ as he tells her to keep struggling as he continues to waste her precious time. She grits her teeth as she mumbles that she’s counting on Deku, likely to come through with another distraction for her to get the weapon.

Yes, Katsuki is totally calm and rational right now. Honest to god, why was he given those gauntlets? Also, just noticed that Izuku’s got a layer of clothing/something under his costume, since that is not his bare skin. Seems to be a bit more explosion-resistant as well? Or perhaps that’s just shounen physics at work.

Katsuki taunted Izuku, and Izuku picks himself up while noting how the explosion was directed forward, thus giving him a ranged attack. Which makes sense considering that he can’t direct the energy of his normal explosions from dispersing in all directions equally in normal situations. Izuku puts a hand to his headset, asking after Ochako, and Katsuki calls Izuku out on ignoring him.

Kirishima asks All Might why he’s not stopping the match, saying Katsuki is crazy and looking to kill. All Might, however, thinks otherwise, considering some of Katsuki’s previous statements.

Ahahaha even his tentative complement of Katsuki’s ‘restraint’ is immediately redacted by the ‘just that petty’ comment. Also, All Might can hear everything all the students are saying, headset on or off, while they’re out there in the field. And you want to know something interesting he heard two chapters back?

I have to wonder how much All Might knows about Izuku’s history versus what he keeps to himself… I can’t imagine Izuku would mention the bullying, so this might have been the first he was hearing about it. :)

Anyways, he calls Katsuki out on using that move, noting that massive attacks like that being used indoors could easily bring the stronghold down around them, and that it’s a bad move for both heroes and villains, as well as a good way of losing points. All Might then thinks about how he should be stopping the match as a teacher, but…

(All Might knows it's the responsible thing as a teacher to stop the match immediately, but he also knows that his successor NEEDS to be able to prove himself as an equal to someone who looked down on him and bullied him before now, especially with Izuku so determined to not lose to Katsuki for once. It was a quiet kind of passion, one he hasn't heard from Izuku before, and he can't take that chance away too quickly, even if he wants to intervene and knows he should be.

And yes, I know his reasoning for his hesitation is more directly mentioned in a bit, but it’s a good place to remind people who seem to think he was thoughtlessly irresponsible here that he knew damn well what he was doing, and that it was for Izuku’s sake that he held back from ending the match early.)

Katsuki complains about the chastisement, while Izuku confirms Ochako’s location in the bomb room and starts trying to plan again. Katsuki leaps forward at Izuku with renewed intent to beat him into the ground, startling Izuku as he realizes he has no way to dodge, only counter-

Katsuki learns FAST from his mistakes in battle, and it shows. 

(Also, just realized there wasn’t an underlayer for Izuku’s costume, it was just that scrap of sleeve looking weird in that image. My bad!)

Shouto explains what just happened - Katsuki feinted with his first explosion while using it to leap around back, and then used a double explosion to maximize the force behind the blow to Izuku without being thrown back out the hole he made earlier. Yaoyorozu notes that while Katsuki doesn’t seem like a thinker, his battle strategy is fairly intricate, while Kaminari gripes about how good he is.

While Izuku is recovering from that attack, Katsuki sweeps in with an announced reight hook, Izuku barely having time to turn to look before he gets fucking clocked in the side by Katsuki’s gauntleted arm. He then grabs Izuku’s right arm, spins him around using a series of small explosions to build momentum, and then bodily slams Izuku down into the ground while saying Izuku is nothing compared to him. 

Izuku realizes Katsuki’s giving him no time to think, and that he’s just to strong, so he has to use ‘it’, aka One For All. The class is in shock, one saying that his actions are torture and that he could have ended it with the capture tape already, while another notes that it’s not very hero-like, and a third that they thought Izuku was good, but that Katsuki’s battle sense is unbeatable, and that he’s all instinct.

‘A part of him seems calm’ my fucking ass. 

Izuku surries away in a panic while Katsuki looms after him. Ashido comments on him running, while Kirishima says that it’s not manly, but Izuku doesn’t have a choice, even if the situation is odd (i.e. probably noting that Izuku hasn’t used his quirk yet, even though he knows how strong said quirk is since he was in the same arena as Izuku.) Izuku slams against a wall, bracing himself for Katsuki’s next move.

Katsuki demands to know why Izuku won’t use his quirk, and whether Izuku is mocking him, like he always has since they were kids. Izuku says Katsuki’s wrong, but Katsuki barrels on, saying how he knows Izuku is looking down on him. All Might thinks more about stopping them, but that he can’t take this from Izuku. Izuku says that it’s because Katsuki’s awesome that he wants to beat him.

The two of them are yelling at each other now (very shounen moment), Izuku about how he wants to win and beat Katsuki, while Katsuki tells Izuku to stop ‘looking at him like that’. All Might is in the middle panel between them, thinking about how he hasn’t seen izuku this pumped since the ‘I wanna be a hero’ thing. The class is looking on, someone noting how confident Katsuki is. All Might continues to think as the two boys move in for their respective attacks, noting that this battle is necessary for Izuku’s future. 

Izuku’s right arm crackles with the power of One For All as he begins to shout out his smash, while Katsuki’s prepping an explosion in his right hand. Kirishima shouts how bad this is and is almost begging All Might to stop this, and All Might is shaking with nerves as he holds back. He is just in the middle of telling the two to stop when Izuku shouts at Ochako, startling All Might into stopping. Ochako grabs the pillar, Tenya is confused, and Izuku watches Katsuki while he thinks about how he can’t measure up in a one-on-one fight, but.

Seriously, how did this building not collapse at all during this exercise???

Anyways, Ochako swings the pillar around, slamming all the other debris blown upwards towards Tenya in a ‘Comet Home Run’. Tenya says it’s no home run (which I imagine has to be in the exact same tone as ‘that’s no moon’) while shielding himself from said debris, which means he misses Ochako taking another flying leap towards the bomb until it’s too late.

Meanwhile, down below, Katsuki is looking at the damage done in absolute shock, like, he’s absolutely SHAKING as he repeats his belief that Izuku’s been mocking him from the start. 

Izuku’s right arm is in ragged disrepair, and his left he used to block Katsuki’s explosion is not exactly in better shape. He’s quivering as well from the shock and pain as he tells Katsuki that he didn’t want to use his power because he can’t - the blowback messes him up too much. It’s like Aizawa-sensei said, but it was all he could do at that point to win. 

This is really just a fantastic way to end the chapter. All Might’s hesitation as what just happened sinks in before he announces the win, Izuku finally collapsing unconscious as his body gives out on him, and Katsuki’s worldview thoroughly shaken as what just happened sinks in for him as well. Like, look at that, that is SUCH a mess of emotions he’s experiencing.

What a roller coaster of emotions. What a good character growth moment for everyone. 

I suppose next chapter, then, is the fallout and some stuff from the other kids in 1a. Hopefully that will go up this weekend!

[yourneighborhooddisaster]

kings of unconventional (part three) ROMAN

Again! Late as fuck! I’m sorry, I had no motivation for what felt like forever. Hey, listen to Experience by Ludovico Einaudi while you’re writing btw. Also the thing abt me getting an AO3 account? The stupid blocker on my computer that I can’t figure out how to turn off deemed the website unworthy, and frankly I don’t have the energy.

Warnings: Kissing I suppose? I consider it a blessing but whatever. It’s kind of just a fluffy meet cute.

Tagging: @emiisanxious @genderfluidmoma @my-life-is-an-artistic-mess @penguins-penguins @jinxedrose101 Imma cross my fingers and hope I tagged everyone.

Still short, but it’s a tiny bit longer this time! Yay! Fic under the cut.

ROMAN inhaled the familiar scent of orange aerosol as he checked into the bookshop as a volunteer. Though he wasn’t a big reader, he came in on Thursdays to help supervise the meetings of Inqueery, a new book club that was quickly gaining speed due to its focus on LGBT+ content from all different types of genres. It was designed to help curious or queer youth label themselves if they preferred and to introduce people to media put out by the LGBT+ community.

Roman knew he was polyamorous and gay already, and he was very comfortable with his sexuality. Although, it helped a bit when your destiny was written across your arm. Many people came into these meetings simply to meet people and make sense of their soulmark. It was especially hard for kids with gender neutral names like ‘Alex’ or ‘Riley.’ But since it was technically still a book club, Roman came here to help guide the curious and confused so readers could discuss their books in peace. Mr. Sanders used to do it, but as he got older, he split his time between resting and keeping his business afloat.

He got a head start on changing the displays as he waited for Joan, an official hire. What Roman liked about Mr. Sanders’s Books is that every other day, the displays rotated, so lesser known authors and books got their chance in the spotlight. Even if it was some extra work. He had just finished with all of the display shelves when someone tapped him on the arm, prompting him to turn around.

“Well hello there, cutie.” In front of him, a curly haired young man with square glasses smiled brightly. He proudly sported a rainbow pin, a he/him pin, and a poly pride pin, all attached to his gray cardigan that fell loosely around his shoulders. He beamed at the compliment. (And blushed a little. Roman considered that a win.)

“Hi! I was wondering if you knew where the sign up sheet for Inqueery was? I can’t seem to find it. I’m new in town, so I was hoping I could make friends.” Well wasn’t he precious. Roman felt his heart melting into a puddle of goo.

“Of course! It’s actually behind the counter, which is why you couldn’t find it. There’s a bit of a waiting list simply due to funding. Unless you can buy your own book, in which case you can join as soon as they start a new one.” Roman grabbed the clipboard and a blue marker from under the counter. “Here you go sir! Oh, hey Joan! I finished the displays, so I’ll be out of your hair in a bit.” Their fond smile made Roman grin as they passed him to go to the back. “So yeah, just sign right here.”

“Thanks! I can buy my own book, which means that I check off this box here, right?” Roman nodded and watched as Patton signed his-

Patton.

“I’m Roman and I really want to kiss you right now,” he blurted like an absolute idiot. But Patton looked up, nearly in awe. They pulled their sleeves up simultaneously, and true enough, Patton’s name was in simple blue half cursive, nearly identical to his signature on the sign up sheet. Roman’s name was in big red letters on Patton’s arm, fancy swirls underlining it. But directly underneath, ‘Logan’ was written in scribbly dark blue handwriting, just barely decipherable. Both ‘Virgil’ and ‘Janus’ were still in neat black print. “You met him? What’s he like?” Patton giggled.

“He kind of ran away from me in a moment of gay panic. But he complimented me first, and he seemed really sweet.” Roman’s face must have fallen slightly because Patton leaned over the counter and booped his nose, making him snort with laughter. “We’ll find him again, don’t you worry. We’re meant to be together.” Roman leaned over the counter as well, getting much farther forward than Patton had.

“It’s destiny.” Patton’s eyes widened and his face reddened, but he captured Roman’s lips in a soft, sweet kiss. They both closed their eyes and melted, Roman bringing his hand up to caress Patton’s cheek. No fireworks went off, but it was like burying your face in a ton of cotton candy at the fair - sugary and exhilarating. His mind traveled to the fair as they deepened the kiss. God, that’d be a beautiful date. He imagined the food, the ferris wheel, the bumper cars - but the loud crash that sounded wasn’t in his head. Roman broke away from the kiss and saw an absolutely mortified young man desperately picking up way too many books for one person to carry.

“Oh, are you okay?” Roman had officially decided Patton was perfect as he rushed to the young man’s side. Roman quickly followed, putting stacks of books on the counter. He offered out his hand, and the guy shakily accepted it.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, just a little shaken-” His eyes dropped to Roman’s arm and his jaw went slack. Roman and Patton followed his gaze. In purple, relatively neat print. Virgil. “Up.” Virgil scrambled to his feet. “So you’re...“ He pulled up his sleeve. “Roman and Patton?”

“Two of your soulmates at your service. Roman Regio. Lovely… lovely to meet you, Virgil.” The words almost died in his throat as his breath was taken away by the man. Virgil was tall. And Roman was taller than average, but wow. Oh god that was hot. Why was that hot? He inhaled sharply. Man, he really wanted to kiss him right now.

“I have such handsome soulmates!” Patton exclaimed. Roman felt his face warm, but Virgil went full on red. “I know we just met, but I feel so close to you two already. We should get ice cream! And then we can learn all about each other and we can-”

“Slow down sweetheart, I think we’re overwhelming our poor Virgil.” Virgil seemed as if he was gonna fall over again, though he had his hand on the wall to steady himself. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m… I’m great. I’m so, so… great.” Virgil glanced between them and smiled like he was close to shouting that this was the best day of his life. It certainly was the best of Roman’s. “I- uh, wow.” Roman looked over at Patton, who, even though he had known him for all of five minutes, looked at him like he could read his mind. Patton nodded excitedly, so Roman stepped slightly closer.

“May I kiss you?” Virgil stumbled then, and Roman’s arm shot out to steady him, and as Virgil looked over at Patton, who was still smiling, (thank goodness Roman hadn’t misinterpreted his expression) Roman stood on his toes and gripped Virgil’s patchy jacket. Virgil glanced back with longing in his eyes. “May-”

“Oh God yes.” Roman didn’t need to hear another thing. He yanked Virgil down and there. There were the fucking fireworks. Kissing him wasn’t better or worse than kissing Patton, it was just different. So different. He was nearly unable to stop himself from shoving his tongue in Virgil’s mouth right away, but Virgil opened his mouth hungrily for him anyway. This was an explosion, all the blood rushing in his head told him that. But they didn’t need an explosion quite yet. Ice cream sounded nice. So Roman pulled away, smiling as Virgil tried to follow him with his lips. “I-” Roman stepped back, and Virgil flushed hotly in embarrassment, but he then nodded to Patton, who beamed.

“May I?” Virgil nodded, looking dumbfounded and completely overwhelmed, but in a good way. Patton giggled as he got closer, his hands slipping up to clasp around Virgil’s neck. Roman sighed as their lips connected, knowing that Patton was leading the chaste, soft kiss and knowing exactly how it felt. He grinned and nearly laughed as the tips of Virgil’s ears went red, but when they separated, his grin only widened at the smile on Virgil’s face. Patton’s kisses were so sweet, they were enough to distract Virgil from anything else.

“So my darlings, I think that ice cream sounds great. How about you?”

[the-final-sif]

Actually, now that I’ve talked about my headcanon that Katsuki was kidnapped several times as a child, let me talk about a complete random scene/story arc inspired by that and the fact that Katsuki + Izuku + Shouto are all interning with Endeavor now.

Overhaul breaks out of jail and gets his arms back somehow. He’s gone quite a bit nuts. A lot nuts. He’s surpassed ‘focused villain trying to do one thing that he sees as right’ to more of a ‘just want to watch the world burn’. To that end, he sets about getting a team together to catch a certain group of meddling heroes, and to rekidnap a certain child.

A second hideout raid of sorts is planned and goes down, only this time, it was a trap. Izuku/Shouto/Endeavor/Hawks/Kirishima/Tamaki/Fatgum/Tsuyu/Ryuko/Ochako were on the raid team and were caught. Aizawa who was watching over Eri while she had a playdate with Tsuyu’s younger sister, Satsuki, are all also captured. Overhaul had a very specific team set up, knew about them in advance and planned out counters for each person. Alongside that, he used his quirk to create a giant beast like robot that’s made of metal able to withstand even Deku’s punches and Shouto/Endeavor’s flames. Said robot is roughly modeled/made to take on the LOV’s nomu, but non-organic. Notably, Katsuki wasn’t on the hideout raid team (or aware of the raid), because he had a Obligatory Family Trip planned on the same day and so wasn’t at the internship then.

Izuku had managed to put in a distress call before he was taken down, but all the heroes + victims were moved to a different location afterwards in an old long abandoned hideout in the middle of the woods, and there’s about no chance of anyone tracking them down any time soon.

So that leads us into the main scene. The heroes are all captured/restrained up near Overhaul whose ranting on about using Eri to destroy the world/destroy quirks once and for all and then rule over it with a robotic army which is the only thing he considers “clean” anymore. Meanwhile, Eri and Satsuki are down in a different location in a cell of their own (to prevent the heroes from comforting the children), and there’s a camera system in place so the heroes can see the helpless children.

Overhaul demands Eri be brought to whatever Evil Machine he’s devised, and one of his goons goes to get her, but Satsuki fights back against the goon and actually does a pretty damn good job of it. Which leads to Overhaul demanding that the goon kill her.

There’s nothing any of the heroes can do. Satsuki fights back as best she can, as does Eri, but they’re both only 6 years old and Eri’s quirk isn’t working. They struggle, but it’s looking hopeless, and Aizawa tries to tell Tsuyu to close her eyes because he knows what’s about to happen next.

And then the entire dungeon the two girls are in shatters.

Everything is chaos for the next minute as Overhaul tries to figure out what the hell just happened, getting his cameras back in order until finally he gets a visual and contact with one of his goons just before they get taken down and it’s Katsuki.

He’s in a flannel, regular pants and his combat gloves, very clearly confused/pissed off/not prepared for whatever the hell is going on here, and it takes them awhile to figure out what’s going on.

As it turns out, Katsuki has been hiking a trail near this hideout since he was 4 years old. His family drags him up to a nearby location to visit some extended family, he has 0 interest in doing that, so he goes and hikes/camps along a trial instead. Every year he hikes this fairly long trail, and every year he sees this weird abandoned building that he’s gone to explore a few times, and every year the first thought in his mind is ‘Man, that place looks exactly like a villain hideout’.

Then this year, he comes up on it, minding his own business with his headphones in, and he sees the building active again with people with weird masks running around in it, and he’s got a super bad feeling in his gut that just slams into him and he goes ‘Alright, fuck it.’

So now Katsuki is here, he grabs the kids and gets them to a semi-safe location, getting info from them and trying to understand what’s going on. Once he gets it, this turns into a game of him keeping the kids safe from Overhaul, taking down his goons as he goes and working his way towards where the other heroes are. Only, we’re going with the aforementioned headcanon that Katsuki has been kidnapped a bunch of times as a child and never realized that wasn’t normal. This leads to the heroes watching him on the cameras with an increasingly pissed off Overhaul as he walks the two children through how deal with being kidnapped as if these are normal everyday life skills.

Overhaul really, really wants him dead, but unfortunately his team was handpicked to counter the heroes who he’s already captured, and he wasn’t counting on Katsuki showing up. Katsuki’s quirk is flexible and very destructive + Katsuki’s combat skills means he’s pretty much a worst case scenario for Overhaul. Even worse, Katsuki successfully took down the com lines so there’s no communication through the scattered goons, and Katsuki played in this abandoned hideout as a child so he knows his way around it. 

Ideal things happening during all of this:

Aizawa torn between being overjoyed that Katsuki saved Eri and then horrified/so done with this child as he walks Eri and Satsuki through how to use knives and grenades.

Katsuki being confused that neither Eri nor Satsuki know how to use a knife.

“Okay, did I have a weird childhood or did you two have a weird childhood. I can’t tell.”

Katsuki gives both children knives, and gives Eri a second knife when she loses her first one (and by loses I mean it ends up embedded in a bad guy’s shoulder)

Izuku keeps pulling notebooks and pencils out of seemingly thin air since Katsuki is openly discussing his quirk/aspects of it with the kids as they make their way through the base and by god he needs to write it down. Overhaul keeps taking his notebooks/pencils but the moment he looks away Izuku somehow has another set.

Katsuki keeps mentioning offhandly things from his childhood and the more things he mentions the more all the other heroes are like “????????”

Finally, Overhaul realizes there’s no chance of his guys taking down Katsuki as Katsuki finishes off the last or second to last one, and so he unleashes The Robot.

By this point, Katsuki already called for backup, but it’s at least half and hour out. He sees the robot and he’s like “Ah fuck.”. Eri and Satsuki already told him a little bit about it and particularly that it’s built to withstand anything short of a nuclear weapon. Not to mention it’s decently fast/agile.

And then when Eri is hurriedly relaying all this to Katsuki, she mentions that Overhaul built it himself.

Katsuki: “Wait like, he actually designed and built it. Overhaul’s the guy with the weird purity/evolution obsession right? He made this? Not somebody smarter?”

She confirms and Katsuki is suddenly No Longer Worried: “Okay, you two chill here, I got this.”

So then he goes to fight the weird beast robot, and nobody’s really sure what he’s planning. As he starts fighting it, he seems to be blasting it’s head into stuff a lot/slamming it around, but that’s not doing any actual damage, right?

Wrong.

See, Overhaul’s somewhat of a moron who put all of the robot’s processing/”brain” into the head area, because that’s how things are supposed to be in his mind. Katsuki figured the guy would probably pull something like this, and so he gives the robot a bunch of repeated strikes to the head area/knocking it around. Because even if the outside is super tough, that kinetic energy still travels through and can do damage to delicate circuit boards.

In layman’s terms, he gives the robot a series of minor concussions until it adds up.

The robot starts to malfunction, going somewhat rouge/pausing/getting stuck places/etc. But it’s still not destroyed and the heroes aren’t sure what Katsuki’s planning next. Katsuki is quite sure of what he’s planning next though. He lures the robot outside and then traps it in place with some large rocks or some rope or something. It’s not going to hold it for very long, but it’s enough to keep the weakened robot in place.

Then he takes aim with one arm as if he was doing an AP shot.

Everyone (heroes and Overhaul included) are kinda like ‘okay what the heck’ because even Katsuki’s strong blasts aren’t enough to really damage the robot’s exterior. Why would trapping it change that?

Then blue starts to spread up Katsuki’s arm along his veins, his hand starts to crackle and there’s 1-2 seconds of “wait WHAT” before Katsuki unleashes a blast on par with that of a small nuclear weapon. The explosion is bright blue, narrowed down to a fine point like Katsuki’s regular AP spot, but once it hits it’s target, it explodes outwards disintegrating the robot and taking out a good chunk of the surrounding land. The whole hideout is shaken to it’s foundation. Windows shatter, some cameras crack, and when the dust clears, Katsuki’s standing tall.

His left arm is still covered by that spiderweb blue though, and it’s hanging limply at his side.

Okay, so this is 90% me making up science but shhhh

So as the heroes quickly learn as an exhausted/barely on his feet Katsuki stumbles back to the kids who of course have questions, this is apparently something Katsuki has been able to do since he was 6.

He calls it “Blue Core”, and it makes his explosions super powerful by pulling nitrogen from the rest of his arm/blood stream/flesh and stocking it all up.

However, he basically never uses it because it comes at a really high cost, namely it takes several seconds of charging, does a ton of collateral damage, and by using it it takes whichever arm he used out of commission for at least the next 24 hours. He can still use his quirk a little with the other one, but it’s heavily weakened.

Obviously he can’t use this in training either, so he never thought to mention it to his teachers.

The heroes + Overhaul just watch stunned for like a solid minute as he starts making his way towards where the heroes are being held hostage with the kids because what the fuck.

Finally though, Overhaul snaps out of it and goes to fight the weakened Katsuki. The kids hide when Overhaul comes out and he throws Katsuki against a wall or something b/c he’s heavily weakened and can’t really fight with his quirk anymore, and then he struts over to him monolouging and ready to claim victory as Katsuki is laying there, slumped over and barely breathing.

And then the moment Overhaul gets close to him, Katsuki is up in a flash and the heroes can hardly even see what happened, but the next thing they know Overhaul is on the ground screaming bloody murder clutching his eyes and Katsuki is holding a blood stained knife. Then he gives Overhaul a curb stomp and he is OUT.

It should be noted, this is not any of the knives that he gave to Eri/Satsuki.

Someone, maybe Aizawa: “How many knives does he have???? I thought he was hiking????”

Shouto: “Oh yeah, at one point during the remedial courses we were babysitting kids together and he mentioned to me that he had 7 knives that day, and I honestly couldn’t tell if he brought more or less knives than he normally carried because of the children. Still not sure actually.”

Izuku: “I know he usually carried around 4 knives when we were kids but part of that was he had limited areas to hide them back then.”

Fatgum and Tamaki are both completely baffled and trying to fit this guy they’ve just been watching with the person that Kirishima described Katsuki to them as.

Anyways, so then Eri & Satsuki get the keys and go to free the heroes which are fairly close by while Katsuki guards Overhaul to prevent him from pulling a ‘gotcha’ on them. And also because the heroes are up a flight of stairs and Katsuki physically cannot walk up them right now.

It’s very emotional as Eri rushes to Aizawa and Satsuki rushes to her big sister who is now crying. And then the group heres a noise and all eyes go back up to the camera screens which are still somewhat up and running, currently focused on where Katsuki and Overhaul’s battle went down.

Turns out, before this whole mess started, the LOV sent Dabi to go take care of Overhaul because He Cannot Be Allowed To Have Arms, Goddamnit We Were Making A Point With That.

But then Katsuki went ahead and did Dabi's job for him, so Dabi radioed back to Tomura and Tomura changed his objective to "You know, while you're there anyways and he's weak, might as well grab the kid."

There’s two endings to this:

1)

 The door to the room Katsuki is in swings open and fucking Dabi waltzes in probably saying something like

"So, is this a bad time?"

Katsuki turns to look at him and in the most done, tired, angry, voice: "You asshole."

After drugging Katsuki somehow (because unlike Overhaul, Dabi is not stupid and isn't getting with 10 feet of Katsuki without being damn sure he's down for the count), Dabi kidnaps Katsuki for the second time and the two of them are teleported out of the area about 10 seconds before Aizawa/the other heroes are freed just barely too late to do anything about it.

This ending would mostly be because I'd want Dabi and Katsuki to have back and forth banter of Katsuki being so 110% done with everything and Dabi being like:

"Yeah, I'll admit, this is kinda a dick move and the universe definitely has it out for you today."

"You don't get to say 'the universe has it out for me' when you're the one kidnapping me asshole"

And also because it sets up some serious hurt/comfort.

or, ending 2)

Katsuki stumbles his way over to a doorway on the other side of the room to go grab some rope so he can tie Overhaul up. He opens the door, and Dabi's just standing there, having been about to open the door so he could capture Katsuki.

They just stare at each other wide eyed for several long seconds before

"Is now a bad time-"

And Katsuki slam's the door shut.

"N o !"

He takes five seconds to just stare at the door being pissed and then is like "No, fuck this, I have dealt with enough today." Then he proceeds to barricade the door as he goes through various forms of the words 'No, nope, fuck that, not happening', still exhausted and beaten up and done but 100% N O T   H A V I N G   T H I S.

The heroes get down there to help and and they search for Dabi only to discover on the camera footage that after Katsuki slammed the door on him, he apparently thought it was so funny that he just kinda shrugged, turned around and actually fucking left. Because, you know, his main objective was already completed, and he didn’t really feel like going the extra mile today.

All of this is on camera too, so it quickly spreads as a meme, along with other choice moments from the whole hideout fight including several ‘vibe checks’, one of Satsuki throwing a grenade into the face of on of the goons that was harassing her before, and also ‘knife check’ becoming a thing.

[rizlowwritessortof]

Compelled

Have you ever had a really bad day at work? I’ve never had a day quite as bad as Brandi’s - but damn, I’d love to use this method to relieve the stress... 

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Brandi Neal (female OFC)

Word Count: 5075 (blame him)

Warnings: The usual smut, very gentle dom Dean, nothing y’all ain’t seen before in my other fics

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Brandi nodded attentively as the homicide detective spoke, but later that day she wouldn’t even remember what he’d said. The shock of finding her co-worker literally in pieces in the office next to hers was taking its toll, leaving her more than a little shaken. “Ms. Neal, thank you. We’ll be in touch if we have any more questions,” he said, leaving her with a sympathetic nod.

“Brandi? Can I get you anything?” her assistant asked, and she drew a shaky breath, shaking her head.

“Thanks, Sarah, but I think I just need a minute to absorb everything. Please, no phone calls for a while, okay?” Sarah nodded with a smile, then turned to let Brandi enter her office and close the door. She blew out a breath, forcing herself to unclench her fists. The stack of files waiting on her desk would at least be a distraction, something to keep her mind off the carnage she had witnessed that morning. As she moved to go around and take her seat, a sharp knock at her door made her jump, and the entire pile hit the floor, papers spilling out everywhere. She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment before lowering herself to her knees to begin gathering the mess. “Come in!” she said, her frustration obvious in her voice.

Sarah opened the door, peeking in apologetically. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Neal – but there’s an FBI agent here to see you.”

God, what else. She sighed. “Okay, send him in.”

“Already in. Need a hand?” She bristled at the tone of his voice. He sounded almost amused.

“No, thanks. What can I do for you? I already spoke to the police.”

“I understand. But I’m afraid I’m going to need to hear it again. For our own records.”

She felt her temper flare, channeling it into scooping up the scattered papers. “As I told the police, I walked into Denny’s office to ask him a question this morning, his door was open, and there he was, torn to pieces.”

“Did he have any enemies that you know of?”

“I don’t know,” she snapped. “I don’t know him that well.”

“Is there anything he was involved in here at the office that could...”

“I told you, I don’t know.” She stretched out a hand, reaching for a sheet of paper that had flown a couple of feet away.

“You realize, Ms. Neal, that this is a federal case. We can compel you to speak to us.” His voice was clipped, authoritative, and she bit her tongue for a moment, retrieving the last document and pulling them all together into a messy pile.

When she spoke again, it was with a cold, controlled anger. “I am speaking to you. And I don’t know how you can ‘compel’ me to tell you something I don’t know anything...” She stood and turned, the disorganized mess in her arms, and a pair of striking green eyes froze her in place. “...about.” Her face grew warm, and suddenly she was painfully aware of the wisps of hair in her face, the button that had come undone on her blouse, the dryness of her mouth. My god, he was attractive - chiseled jaw, perfectly sculpted lips, thick lashes framing those stunning eyes. The thought crossed her mind that he could probably compel her to do a lot of things, and his eyes narrowed just a touch as he watched her reaction to him. It was almost as if he could read her thoughts, his eyebrow raising just a touch, his eyes roaming to her now-exposed cleavage, those lips curling into a sinful smirk for just one second before his professional demeanor took back over, and he cleared his throat.

“So there’s nothing you can think of that might have, uh, put him on somebody’s hit list?”

“There’s nothing work-related that I can think of, and I really don’t know him very well personally, Agent...” Brandi answered, swallowing nervously.

“Gibbons. Dean Gibbons.”

“Agent Gibbons. I’m sorry, I wish I could be of more help. I was just unlucky enough to find his body this morning.”

“So you saw no one leaving, anything like that?”

“No. I think it must have happened last night, although I don’t know that for sure.”

“I can check with the coroner on time of death. Nothing else you can think of that might be helpful?” His voice was more relaxed now, almost kind – not to mention deep and rich and sexy as hell, now that she no longer wanted to stab him with her letter opener.

“No. I’m sorry.”

“All right. If you think of anything else, anything at all, please give me a call.” He handed her a business card, and she took it from him, careful not to touch him.

“I will.”

“Thank you for your time, Ms. Neal.” He gave her a nod with a little smile, then turned to leave, and she dropped into her chair, shaking. Her assistant peeked in, a remorseful look on her face.

“Brandi, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Sarah. Not your fault. It’s the FBI, not like you could have sent him away.”

“Well, let me know if you need anything. I’ll try not to disturb you.” Sarah pulled the door shut, and Brandi cradled her head in her hands, closing her eyes. What she really wanted to do at the moment was go home, pour a very large glass of wine and climb into a hot bath.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several hours later, she did just that. The bath soothed her, and the wine didn’t hurt, either. She was well into her second glass, feeling much more relaxed, when the doorbell rang. She was only wearing a camisole and a pair of yoga pants, but it was probably just a delivery, anyway. She opened the door, then felt her cheeks flush with color as she looked up into the green eyes of Agent Gibbons.

“Agent. I… wasn’t expecting… how did you know where...”

He grinned. “FBI.”

She laughed nervously. “Well, of course, I mean… Come in, please.” She backed up and let him step into the room, closing the door and turning back towards him, her arms hugging her middle as she spoke. “What can I do for you?”

His eyes swept over her, lingering on her chest for a moment before he met her gaze again and smiled. “Now that’s what I’d call a loaded question.”

“Is this… about the murder?”

“Actually, I’m off duty. I’m here because I picked up a vibe from you today. And I wanted to see if my hunch was right.”

“A – a vibe?” A million butterflies were fluttering in her belly, and she tried to heed the inner voice telling her to calm down, but the delicious curve of his lips as he smiled, his self-assured manner, his focused stare were all making her feel very much the opposite. When he took a step towards her, she backed up against the door, and he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his eyes roaming over her again.

“I got the feeling that you wouldn’t mind too much if I – compelled you to talk. Or to do other things, maybe.” The timbre of his voice flowed over her like melted honey, a smoky edge to it that made her insides quiver.

“Wha...what do you mean?” Her voice was nearly a whisper, and she stopped breathing as he leaned in a little closer.

“Oh, I think you know what I mean, Brandi.” He straightened, looking down at her with that piercing gaze. “Now if you tell me I’m wrong, I’ll go. Maybe I didn’t read you like I thought I did.” He didn’t touch her, but it felt as if he did when he let his eyes wander down over her body again, slow and deliberate. “Was I wrong, Brandi? Or do you need someone to take charge for a while?” He raked his gaze back up, staring down at her until she tilted her head back to look into his eyes, her lips parted, the breath frozen in her lungs. She gave him a slight nod, her face hot, and averted her eyes, but he reached a finger to her jaw and held her in place. “Baby, I’m gonna need to hear you.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, Dean.”

She shivered at the authority in his voice, then nodded again. “Yes, Dean.”

He dragged his fingers along her jaw line, down the slope of her neck, resting them on her shoulder. “And you’re sure you want this? Because if you don’t, I can leave.”

“I’m sure, Dean.”

He bent closer, nuzzling his nose in her hair. “That’s my good girl,” he whispered in her ear, then kissed her, assertive, demanding, taking whatever sensible thought or will she had left with him. She wobbled against him as he pulled back, and he took her by the shoulders, steadying her.

“Whoa, there. I think somebody needs to sit down.” He took a step back, stripping off his jacket and tie, tossing them to a nearby chair. She watched as he unbuttoned his cuffs, quickly rolling his sleeves up, then reaching for her hand. “Come with me.” She let him guide her to the sofa, where he took a seat and looked up at her. “Hop on, sweetheart. I’m not finished kissing you yet.” He guided her to straddle his lap, pulling her up tight against him, and she inhaled sharply as she felt his erection between her thighs, unable to stop herself from pushing harder against him. “You like that, baby? Got me all hard. You like my hard cock between your legs, don’t you?” She whimpered softly, nodding as he nibbled at her lips. “What did I say about answering me?”

“Yes, Dean. I like it. I really like it.”

“That’s better. Well, go ahead, take what you want.” His hands gripped her hips, encouraging her to move against him as he captured her lips again, kissing her hard, his tongue stroking into her mouth in rhythm with her thrusts, his big hands squeezing and urging her on. Her heart was pounding, her clit throbbing, her head spinning, and she felt herself beginning to shake, but he grabbed her tight, holding her still. “Not yet, baby, we’ve got a long night ahead. Don’t want to go finishing too early, do we? Just take a breath.” He gentled her down with little kisses, drinking in the soft whimpers from her lips. “Such a good girl for me, Brandi.”

Okay, she was going to come just from hearing him say things like that if he wasn’t careful.

He reached one hand to lift her chin a little, his thumb tracing the shape of her lips, then pushing gently between them. She closed her eyes, running her tongue over the digit, then sucking lightly on the tip, and he hummed appreciatively. “I’ve been imagining those lips around my cock all day long, Brandi. Wanted to take you right there in your office when I walked in and you were down on your knees like you were waiting for me, that sweet ass in that tight skirt… Mmmmm. Would have liked to bend you over your desk and...” Brandi let out a pitiful whimper, sucking even harder on his thumb, and he pulled it out slowly, reaching for a throw pillow and dropping it to the floor between his knees. “Why don’t you get down on your knees for me, sweetheart, I wanna fuck that pretty mouth.”

He gently urged her back, and she lowered herself to her knees, looking up at him as she reached for his belt, then unfastened his suit pants. He was fully erect and twitched beneath his boxers as she reached for the waistband. “Oh, somebody’s really eager to meet you, baby.” Her heart was pounding as she pulled his boxers down enough to free him, letting him bounce free and slap against his belly.

She scooted herself in, snug between his thighs, and he inhaled, a slow hiss between his teeth, as she leaned forward to lick him from root to tip, then wrapped her hands around him and took the head into her mouth with a quiet moan. He swore under his breath as she suckled at him softly, her tongue sweeping over the smooth, hot skin. When she pulled off, nudging the tip of her tongue into his slit and then plunging down to take him in as far as she could, he groaned, his hand moving to grasp a handful of her hair at the back of her neck. 

He swore steadily in a low rumble as she moved up and then forced herself down further each time, fighting not to gag as he breached her throat. She sucked hard, working her tongue over him, finally just letting herself relax as he lost himself and began to thrust, his hand wound so tight in her hair that her scalp throbbed with her heartbeat.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna blow, sweetheart,” he growled, then unloaded, filling her mouth and throat as she struggled to swallow. He finally relaxed enough to let her back away and take a deep breath through her nose, and she continued sucking softly as he finished, untangling his fingers from her hair and slumping against the back of the sofa.

She leaned against him, spent, cleaning him off before laying her head on her forearm, and he reached up to comb his fingers through her hair. “Surprised me there, Brandi. I didn’t intend to come this soon. But damn, you’re good at that.” She smiled, and he moved his hand. “Look at me, baby.” She pushed herself upright and tilted her head back to look into his eyes. “You doin’ okay? Tell me the truth.”

“Yes, Dean. I’m good.”

His lips curved in a one-sided grin. “Damn straight you are. Now I think this party needs to move somewhere more comfortable.” He leaned up and bent to kiss her, fingers trailing down her arm and sending goosebumps over her, making her shiver. “C’mon, gorgeous.” He stood, reaching for her hand, and she led him down the hall to the bedroom.

He stopped her next to the bed and pulled her into his arms, kissing her until she was dizzy, his hands moving over her back and down to grip her ass, pulling her close. “Mmmm, Brandi… Intoxicating, just like your name,” he muttered against her lips, then turned her around so her back was pressed against his chest. His fingers began to work at the buttons of her camisole, slow and deliberate, moaning in admiration as he pulled the last one free and slipped the garment off her shoulders. He cupped her breasts in his hands, squeezing and kneading at them, nibbling at her neck as his fingers began to pluck and tug at her nipples.

“I need you naked and on the bed, baby, on your back,” he instructed, letting his fingers roam over her back as she bent to remove her pants and panties. Before she could move towards the bed, he pulled her back again, one hand slipping down between her thighs to just hold her for a moment, and groaning in her ear. “So wet for me, baby. I can’t wait to taste you.” He drug his fingers through her folds and then let her go to crawl up on the bed, her legs shaking. He had her in such a state that she’d probably come the second he touched her, and she hoped like hell that he was going to let that happen.

He stood over her, looking down at her as he ran his fingers lightly along her jawline, her collarbone, barely grazing the upper swell of her breasts. Then he slid his palms down the length of her arms, taking her hands in his and pulling her arms up over her head, wrapping her fingers around the slats in the headboard. “Be a good girl and hold on tight. Don’t let go.”

She looked up at him, then closed her eyes as ran his thumb over her cheekbone, leaning into his touch. “Yes, Dean,” she whispered, and he bent to brush a feather-light kiss over her lips before he turned and moved down to the foot of the bed.

He settled himself between her thighs, propping them apart with his broad shoulders, and she gasped as his tongue swept over her with a firm, broad stroke. He growled softly at his first taste, going back for more, then taking his time to explore her thoroughly, teasing and nudging at every spot that made her moan and twitch. He tugged at her clit with his lips, then sucked at it briefly, and Brandi’s back arched as she cried out his name, begging. “Dean! Please, please, Dean, oh god, please...”

“You want me to make you come, pretty girl?”

“Yes, Dean, please, please...”

He smiled, slipping one arm under her thigh, wrapping it back around and bracing it across her lower belly to hold her in place. Then he slipped his index finger inside her, stroking and petting at her walls as she whined and sighed softly. After a moment or two, he added his middle finger, seeking until she shouted as he found the sensitive patch inside her, and began to plunge his fingers into her, hard and deep, hitting that sweet spot unerringly. He bent to pull her clit into the heat of his mouth again, sucking hard and flicking his tongue over it until she let out a rasping cry and came, shaking violently, the headboard creaking from her grip as her orgasm surged through her body. He didn’t stop, not until he had sent her rolling into another climax and she was begging him to stop. He slowed, then pulled his fingers from her, gently laving over her and then rising to his knees between her feet, sucking his fingers between his lips to clean them off. “I knew you’d be delicious.”

He moved around to sit on the edge of the bed beside her, reaching for her hands. “Let go, sweetheart,” he coaxed, pulling her arms back down and rubbing her shoulders gently. He leaned down and kissed her, little nibbles at first, then deeper, more intense as she began to respond. He trailed one hand down from her shoulder to palm her breast, squeezing with a moan, pulling away from her lips. He worked his way down her throat and chest, finally taking the other nipple between his teeth and tugging lightly before sucking it into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue.

Her hands now free, Brandi buried her fingers in his hair, grasping the short strands tight as he growled in approval. When he had her writhing from his pleasurable torture, he raised his head and looked down at her, his eyes dark with arousal. “So you got one more in there for me, baby? Because I want to bury my cock in that sweet pussy, feel you come undone. I want you to be my good girl and squeeze me tight until I explode.”

“Oh, god... yes, Dean!”

He stood once again, shoving his hand into his pocket and pulling out a condom, dropping it to the table before efficiently stripping down. She couldn’t take her eyes from his toned, lean body, lightly tanned and dusted with faint freckles and multiple scars, and she wished for the time to explore and learn every mark and swell and rolling muscle of his physique. He turned to rip open the package and sheath himself, and a wanton moan escaped her lips. He smiled, reaching over to squeeze at her nipple. “Like what you see, sweetheart? I’m kind of loving the view you’re giving me, too.” He climbed up over her and settled between her thighs, shifting his hips to make more room, his heated stare making her breathless with anticipation.

He caged her in with his forearms, letting her slip her arms around him, her hands gliding over the smooth muscles of his back as he kissed her feverishly, done with teasing. He moved his hips, his erection nudging against her, then notching at her opening, and he pressed forward, filling her slowly, inch by inch. She pulled away from their kiss, panting, head pushed back into the pillow as she arched up beneath him, trembling. “Dean… oh my god… please don’t stop, please...”

He finally buried himself to the hilt, holding still for just one second before pulling back and then smoothly stroking back in. “Baby, don’t worry, I’m not gonna stop until you’re coming for me again. Damn, you feel so good, so hot, gripping me so tight I can barely move.” He leaned on his left arm, reaching for a pillow with his right, urging her to lift up so he could wedge it beneath her lower back. Then he pulled out and drove back inside her, watching as she gasped, her eyes rolling back in her head for a moment as he hit just the right spot. “There we go. Hold on, sweetheart, I’m gonna take you for a ride.”

He began a steady rhythm, a smooth drag out then a hard thrust back in, reaching the deepest parts of her, his pelvic bone rubbing against her clit with every down stroke. Every powerful thrust sent sparks zipping through her nerves and forced a muffled cry from her throat, and it only spurred him on. He began to drive in hard, their bodies slamming together until she was shaking and begging, for what she didn’t know. He pushed her knee up towards her chest, tipping her back even farther, and groaned as she shouted at the impact when he fucked into her harder and faster, the whole bed rocking with his effort. His teeth were clenched, jaw working as he kept up the punishing rhythm, determined to see her fall apart before he let himself go.

He reached down between them, capturing her clit between his fingers and rubbing, and she screamed hoarsely, going stiff, squeezing his cock so hard it hurt before she began to thrash and quake underneath him. He could hold back no longer, slamming into her with such force that they would both feel bruised later, feeling himself swelling, molten heat exploding from him in seemingly endless streams. All thought left him, the pulsing pleasure, the fierce, all-consuming release the only thing he was aware of, her mindless cries and whimpers almost faded into the background.

His legs were shaking as he felt himself throb weakly, finally empty, and he lowered himself down, his head on her shoulder. His back burned with the scratches he hadn’t even noticed until that moment, her arms now flung out to her sides, her muscles too spent to move them. He winced and grunted as aftershocks still hit them both randomly, weak little whines barely escaping her throat.

He finally mustered the strength to pull out, taking the condom off and disposing of it, then collapsing back onto the bed. She hadn’t moved yet, and he shifted her arm to rest across her ribs, then pulled her close, coaxing her to her side, her head on his shoulder. “Okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly, and she let out a couple of incoherent sounds before finally nodding.

“I’m good. ‘Course, I might be dead.”

“Hey, if we’ve gotta go, that’s the way to do it. Holy fuck,” he breathed.

They laid there, silent, for a few moments before Brandi reached up to lay a hand on his chest. “Dean – thank you. I didn’t know how much I needed this. After what happened… I was acting like I was okay, but I was falling apart.”

He smiled down at her and leaned for a soft kiss. “Don’t need to thank me, you just gave me the best couple of hours I’ve had in… I can’t remember when.” His eyes fell on the clock, and he sighed quietly. “I suppose I should get out of your hair, you probably have to work tomorrow. Sorry about coming over so late – but I’m really not too sorry.”

She snuggled a little closer. “You really don’t have to go, unless you want to.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s nice, having you here.”

He kissed her again. “Well, if you don’t mind… we’d better get some sleep.” She nodded, finally letting her eyes drift closed as he wrapped her in his arms.

The next morning, Brandi rushed around, getting dressed and trying to keep her eyes off the naked man still asleep in her bed. She had gotten up, showered, tiptoed around to keep from waking him, but now she almost wished… But there wasn’t time. She was standing on one foot, reaching behind her to put her foot into the other pump when he cleared his throat and spoke, his voice making her want to crawl back under the covers. “Morning, pretty girl.”

“Good morning, yourself, sexy man.” She smiled as he actually blushed a little, a crooked grin on his face, his hair rumpled and adorable. She really, really didn’t want to go to work. “So, listen. If you have any more questions, or anything, I’ll be in my office all day. My office with the lock on the door, and my own bathroom. Just in case you need anything, you know, at all.”

A low, sexy laugh rumbled in his chest. “I think Miss Corporate Executive is deep-down a very naughty girl.”

“Really not that deep.” Dean laughed as she smiled, shrugging. “I have to be all proper and business-like at work, it’s kind of like – acting,” she smiled, shooting a wink his way. “Pretending to be all classy.”

He cocked an eyebrow, narrowing his eyes at her. “Listen – you’re one of the classiest women I’ve ever met. Nobody says classy means not having any fun.”

“So true.” She finally managed to get both shoes on, turning to the mirror to put on her earrings. “Well, I have to leave. Feel free to use the shower and raid the fridge, whatever you need. But can you lock up, and bring my extra set of keys to my office when you leave?”

The slow smile that curved his lips made her stomach do a little flip. “Oh, sweetheart, I’ll be there. Pretty sure there’s more investigating to do.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that morning, he showed up at the office, and she welcomed him in with a smile. “Agent! Please come in. Can we get you some coffee or anything?”

He gave her a little smile and a wink that Sarah, standing behind him a step, didn’t see. “I think I’ve got everything I need.”

“Thank you, Sarah,” Brandi said with a smile, and her assistant backed out, closing the door behind her.

Before the latch clicked, Dean was behind her desk, pulling her up and into his arms, kissing her hungrily, his hand gripping her ass.  

“These damn skirts of yours, they drive me crazy,” he mumbled against her lips, and she giggled.

“Wait till you find out I didn’t put any underwear on this morning.” She laughed softly again at his moan, and his hand moved down to the hem of her skirt, his fingers slipping underneath and pulling the fabric up and out of his way.

“I think you’d better have a seat, naughty girl. Pretty sure there’s some investigating I need to do right here,” he teased, working his hand between her thighs. “Sit down and spread those legs for me, gorgeous. And remember, you have to be quiet. This is a place of business.”

He gently pushed her back until she was in front of her chair, and she sat down, scooting up to the edge as he dropped to his knees in front of her, one large hand on each of her knees as he spread her wide. “Fuck,” he growled, then ducked down and buried his face in her pussy, his tongue thrusting inside of her as she gasped.

“Dean, oh my god...” she whispered harshly, holding on to the arms of her chair for dear life. She had just thrown her head back against the chair, so near the edge that she could taste it, when a knock sounded at her door. Her eyes widened, and Dean looked up at her, his eyes shining with mirth. He gathered his legs in, hunching down farther so he wouldn’t be seen, and Brandi took a breath, calling out, “Yes?”

Sarah stuck her head in the door. “Sorry to bother you, Brandi. The Kowalski contract is due today, do you need me to do anything with that?” Brandi struggled to keep her face composed as the devil between her thighs slipped a finger inside her and wiggled it. She cleared her throat, her hand flying up to rub at her forehead. “Brandi? Are you all right?” Sarah glance around the room. “Where’s Agent Gibbons?”

“Bathroom,” she said bluntly, trying not to squirm. “He’s in the bathroom. Listen, the file with the completed contract is on the table there by my door. If you would please go through it with a fine-tooth comb, that would be wonderful. Yesterday was traumatic, I just want to make sure I didn’t miss something. Thank you, Sarah.” As the girl turned to leave, she continued, her voice a little strained. “Also, please, no interruptions unless it’s a dire emergency. Agent Gibbons wants to go over some company information, making sure it had nothing to do with the murder. There’s just so much to go over, if you could just take messages and put out the small fires, I’d greatly appreciate it. Thank you, Sarah, you’re a gem.”

Sarah nodded and smiled, grabbing the contract and leaving, closing the door. Brandi bopped Dean on the head as he laughed, shoving him back with a giggle. “Now, Agent Gibbons, go lock the damn door!”

There was a lot of investigating done in the next few hours. In her chair, over her desk, on the counter in the bathroom… It all went off (and so did they – a lot) without a hitch, other than the struggle to keep the entire office from hearing what was going on behind Brandi’s closed door. And damn it, Dean forgot to drop off her keys. Guess he’d have to drop by her place again that night.

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Tags for mah babes:

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[let-it-raines]

CS Fic Rec Monday

I hope you’re all staying safe and inside as much as physically possible! I said I was going to do this weeks ago, but I finally remembered to queue it all up! Here are some dang good multi-chapter fics you can curl up with! You’ve probably already read them if you’ve been around for awhile, but rereading is fun, too! Plus, I know these writers would get excited to see a new comment or two 😘 

-/-

As Real As You Want it To Be by @ive-always-been-a-pirate​: Teaching at the same school as Killian Jones was both infuriating and distracting, but when he throws Emma under the bus for the final time, she devises a plan to get back at him. After all, nobody likes to go to a wedding alone. Time for some CS AU fake dating.

Warm Nights and Firelight by @oubliette14​: When in the wake of a messy breakup Emma makes the impulsive decision to return home to her parent's ranch in the Rockies, she certainly doesn't expect to find a strange Irish guy living in what was once her apartment over the garage, and she definitely doesn't imagine that the home she couldn't wait to be rid of five long years ago would be the very place her heart begins to heal.

If Looks Could Kill by @wellhellotragic​: Emma Swan is a dedicated FBI agent getting over a bad breakup. When she and her partner, Ruby Lucas, are forced to go undercover as contestants on a reality show, Emma is forced to try and win the affections of Killian Jones, a man she despises.Killian Jones is a lost boy. Having recently been nicknamed the ‘Bad Boy of Boston,’ he’s been living up to his moniker using women and rum to avoid dealing with his dark past. When he’s forced to take the lead in a reality show, he encounters a gorgeous blonde who turns his world upside down. Miss Congeniality meets The Bachelor.

The Reason by @xemmaloveskillianx​: The three of them share a laugh before they all look to Emma. She has yet to comment on the new addition because she isn’t sure what to say. She usually doesn’t like change, they have a good thing going there, just the four of them. Plus, they all know him and she doesn’t, but she trusts their judgement, and she’s sure any brother of Liam can’t be all that bad.So, with a shrug and a smile she says, “Welcome to Storybrooke, Killian Jones.

The Wife by @ineffablecolors​: No one knows all that Emma has been through and certainly no one knows all that Killian has been through and being husband and wife doesn’t make them any less unknown to each other. And really, how can you help someone heal when you don’t even know how hurt they are?

Beauty in the Aftermath by @high-seas-swan​: Confronted with the sudden appearance of her birth parents, Emma, in a moment of panic, flees. She flees the diner, Storybrooke, the country. She finds herself a day later in the Dublin, Ireland Airport terminal wondering what the hell she has gotten herself into. With some fear, a little determination and a considerable amount of faking it along the way, she sets off on a trip she never planned on taking but needed more than she ever knew. She finds herself, she finds a Brit adrift on his own journey and finds out what home really means.

Playing the Part by @shireness-says​: As a stage manager who's clawed her way up from the bottom, Emma Swan can handle just about anything thrown her way. But does that include handsome lead actor Killian Jones? A CS Broadway AU.

Love, Kindness, and Other Useless Things by @joneskillian​: CS AU, set in 1815. Lord Killian Jones is haunted by the demons of his past which makes him nowhere near the man he once was, so he can't be the father he wants to be. And above all, he believes he is undeserving of love. Perhaps with Emma that is all about to change. But falling in love is never easy, that's just how it is.

Something Like You Love Me by @bemusedbicycle​: Emma decides the best way to get Mary Margaret off her back about Walsh is to say she already has a boyfriend. Except she doesn’t. That’s where Killian comes in. Fake!Engagement fic.

a one time thing (and other untruths) by @weezlywrites​: "She supposes the reason she tells him is the same reason she kept his phone number after all those weeks." Pregnancy has a way of throwing a wrench in one's plans.

Alone, until I get Home by @peglegsjones​: In Boston, Henry Swan's six-year-old brother Ian finds a book titled "Once Upon a Time" hidden beneath the seat in their mom's old yellow bug. As soon as Henry touches it, he remembers.Season 3 Canon Divergence-Emma finds out she's pregnant a few weeks after she and Henry leave Storybrooke with new memories and new lives. Nearly seven years later, another Dark Curse puts her family in danger, and Emma must return to Storybrooke to help them.Who's powerful enough to cast the Dark Curse? And how the hell is she going to tell Hook they have a son together?

Knock, Knock by @charmingturkeysandwich​: Emma Swan has made the best of her crappy apartment ever since she became best friends with her neighbor, Ruby. But when Ruby moves out and a loud Brit takes her place, the thin walls and lack of space are suddenly not so endearing. After a particularly stressful day, Emma decides to confront the nightmare next door, and entirely against her better judgment, she might just be making a friend.

These Nights Aren’t Made For Thinking by @nowforruin​: AU. Emma Swan came to Portland, ME to start over. She's got a job she loves, but when a particular case gets under her skin, she finds herself visiting the Jolly Roger and its curious bartender, Mr. Killian Jones, more often than she thinks is wise. But some nights aren't made for thinking. Captain Swan.

On the Two by @lifeinahole27​: He’s one bad trip from ending up in AA, and she’s one performance away from a solid job and moving closer to home. Their paths were unlikely to cross until Camp Hope brought them together. How and why they meet and intertwine is against the odds, and definitely against the rules, but will that really stand in their way? A Dirty Dancing inspired modern au.

Separate Lives by @lenfaz​: Set after 3x20 "Kansas". After saving the town one more time, Emma decided to return to New York, leaving her past behind. Three years later, she realizes that might be not have been the best decision.

Natural Opposite by @searchingwardrobes​: Dance is more than Emma Swan’s career; it’s practically saved her life on more than one occasion. But when it comes to reality TV shows, she’s always danced in the shadows of her twin brother David and her sister Elsa. Her first season as a pro on Dancing With the Stars was a disaster, and she enters her second season determined to prove herself. All she needs is a good partner. Hollywood bad boy and ladies’ man Killian Jones isn’t what she had in mind.

Walking in a Straight Line by @msgenevievee: It’s one of the oldest stories in the book. Two old friends have a few too many drinks, two old friends share a kiss. Happens all the time, right? But what happens when only one of them actually remembers it?

Out of the Frying Pan by @welllpthisishappening​: Emma Swan is only doing this for one reason, well, make that two. To get her show's numbers back up and, maybe, impress her son. She doesn't like admitting to that second one though.Killian Jones is doing this for absolutely, positively, just one reason. To expand his restaurant. And maybe get Regina off his back. So that's kind of two reasons.Neither one of them is doing a year-long Food Network all-star competition because they're celebrity chefs and there's not really any other choice. Of course not. And neither one of them is enjoying it because they maybe, kind of, sort of enjoy each other. That would be insane.

A Cold Awakening by @swanderful1​: Modern crime AU. Twenty years have gone by since Storybrooke was shaken to the core by a gruesome crime that went unsolved. Sheriff David Nolan and his partner, daughter Emma are forced to revisit the crime. At the same time, Killian Jones and his older brother Liam have been drawn back to the town they had longed to never see again, struggling to find their own answers. As taunting notes and clues show up they are taken on a journey to finally bring justice for the Jones family. And Emma Nolan finds herself caught in a situation more dangerous than she could have ever imagined.

Beyond the Horizon by @alexandralyman​: AU: When Princess Emma's ship is captured by the Jolly Roger and Captain Killian Jones, she offers herself as a hostage for ransom if he will let the ship and the other passengers go. With Emma, Killian remembers the honour he once held dear, and Emma catches glimpses of the gentleman Killian had been. Against all odds, the pirate and the princess begin to fall for each other.

[sweetest-honeybee]

To Hell and Back

Chapter 23

Summary: Tango goes to have some cake an hot chocolate with Stress.

Characters: Tango, Stress, Xisuma (Doc, Hels, Wels, Keralis, Impulse mentions)

TW: None I don’t think?

————————

They were all in shock at the event.

Xisuma was seething.

Doc was pulling Beef and Wels out of the cage.

Tango had shot the arrow, much to their surprise.

Hels was still stuck in his other state of mind, not showing any signs of returning to his usual sadistic self. Tango’s hands were shaking from shooting his friend for any reason that wasn’t to just mess around. But again, it wasn’t Wels. It was a weird substitute for Wels that apparently had more willpower than he did and that really said something.

Thankfully, the knight was unconscious now. Only one arrow wasn’t enough to kill him and that’s what he hoped for. If Wels died and respawned, while he wouldn’t be too far away, it was safe to assume whatever that thing was had control over him and would have him flying off somewhere else in the opposite direction. Really, at some point it would come out to be a stupid plan. They’d message everyone to capture Wels on sight and given how spread apart everyone was across the map, hiding spots weren’t too evident. A search team of about twenty odd people would find him within an hour at most.

“Tango, are you alright?” Xisuma asked him. His head snapped towards the admin.

The demon exhaled shakily. “I shot him,” was all he said, still staring at the scene in front of him.

“I know, I know, but you did the right thing, Tango.” Xisuma’s voice wavered too much for Tango’s liking. He seemed just as panicked as everyone else was. Yet, his hands were balled right around his sword and his eyes showed none of the usual softness behind his visor.

Tango shook his head, disregarding that statement. “I shot Wels, X.” He gestured vaguely at the knight. In the spur of the moment, he forgot that it was Wels simply being controlled, firing at him instinctively. But after it all, it was still his tiefling friend.

“Yes, you did. But you also just saved Beef from being hurt more than….that.” He gestured vaguely and then put a reassuring hand on Tango’s shoulder. “You can leave if you like. You don’t have to be here.”

Well thanks, Tango wanted to say bitterly. Not quite what he wanted to hear, but Xisuma had a point. A shaking mess of a demon who could now barely hold his bow wasn’t too useful in this situation. Before Tango could accept the invitation to leave, the admin was already typing into his communicator, presumably asking for more help. His hands dropped to his sides defeatedly.

“Okay,” he muttered, taking one last look at the unconscious pair. “Keep me updated?”

“Will do.”

With that and a quick pat on the back, the demon rocketed away from the sandstone building. While he flew, he took out his communicator to see who was coming to help in his place. Preferably more than just one person, he thought. Probably someone fairly close by. Thankfully, he doubted Stress would be accompanying them and her hot chocolate sounded quite good right now.

<Xisuma> We need some backup at Beef’s base

<ImpulseSV> I can lend a hand

<Keralis> Me too

<Keralis> On my way

Well, at least they had people who Wels didn’t just try to kill an hour earlier. Tango was still a bit shaken up by that. So, he decided to visit Stress, seeing as she wasn’t accompanying them. Rather than taking the Nether Hub, he opted to take the long route to think and simultaneously clear his head. He kept thinking about Evil X for some reason, but that was justified quickly when he thought back to Xisuma.

Knowing the admin, he could probably just ask about it later, but he didn’t really want to press into matters that weren’t his, jokingly or not, given what’d happened earlier on from doing so. He also wondered about Evil X and how nervous the guy looked before flying off to his base. Poor dude, maybe Tango should’ve at least tried to understand what happened. After all, Xisuma was rare to anger and when he was, Tango didn’t imagine that it was pretty, be it cold silent glares or outright rage.

Nonetheless, it would probably leave you upset with yourself more often than not.

Slowly, he crept up on the familiar giant butterflies crawling around on the jungle trees and the pink topped buildings. The butterflies glanced at him but continued their activities. He landed on the glass rainbow to get a better view of the surrounding area. The demon looked around, not initially finding Stress, but after a few more seconds his eyes landed on the familiar pink cardigan. Strange, he thought she’d still have the T-shirt on, but who was he to judge when that landed him in a mess on its own.

At the sight of her, he grinned and glided down to the pathway where she was.

“Hey Stress!” He waved.

She turned to him. “Oh, Tango! Fancy seeing you here. I thought you were with Xisuma.” She tilted her head in question. “At least I thought anyways. Saw something goin’ on, I assumed you stayed with him.”

“Uh, yeah, I was. Then things got a little heated so I left,” he answered.

Stress nodded. “I saw they needed some backup. Mind telling me what happened? Nobody really knows what’s going on besides the few of you.”

That’s right, they hadn’t really explained in chat, or to anyone else really, what was happening with Wels and Hels. Tango grimaced at the thought that Wels would probably be waking up soon and lash out again. He didn’t want more people to be hurt, especially not Beef. Beef was such a nice guy and genuinely wanted to help both knights. He didn’t deserve how much he was hurt by it. And Impulse was there too now, and that was an accident waiting to happen. He didn’t want one of his closest friends hurt.

“Tango, you alright there? You’re spacin’ out a bit.”

The demon shook his head, ridding himself of the previous thoughts, and coughed awkwardly.

“Well uh, you know how Beef has that cloning machine, right? And Wels used it?”

“Vaguely, but yes.”

“Well, something’s gone wrong recently. I mean, not that it hadn’t before after he used it but worse this time.”

Stress began leading them inside her brewery, nodding along to him. “What happened the first time?”

“Ah, apparently it made this evil clone, I dunno if he met you yet-“

She perked up happily. “Oh, you mean Hels! Yes, yes, he’s a very interesting fellow. Very cooperative, too, I had to care for him because he came in from HelsCraft lookin’ like a mess.”

Tango raised a brow, suddenly interested in what she had to say instead. “Looking like a mess? Nobody really mentioned anything about that when they came over. Just said Hels wanted to meet me and moved on.”

“Oh yeah, had a dagger in his stomach and everythin’. Looked real painful but he’s a tough cookie.” Stress smiled as she sat the demon down on some stairs near a small kitchen she had built earlier on. Not too great for the overall area and stuck out against the few stands but she apparently recently put one in each of her builds in case of events like these, or just to keep baking convenient. “Care for some cake and hot chocolate? No offense, but you look like a mess, too. Could use some sugar.”

And always prepared with sweets.

Tango snorted. “Sure.” He sighed, continuing his story. “Anyways, so after all that, apparently he and Wels began like….switching places? Hels is becoming nicer and Wels….” he trailed off, grabbing Stress’s attention.

“What about Wels?” She leaned against the counter thoughtfully.

“He….came over because he shut himself off from everyone and I pestered him with some trades. But, after telling him that his offers were crap, he tried to kill me.”

Stress fumbled with the cake knife as he said that, her face twisting into worry. “Kill you?! Why on earth would he try to kill you over a trade?!”

The demon shuddered, the knight’s smirking face burning into that back of his mind. “It wasn’t him, Stress. He keeps being taken over by this….weird dark force or something. You should’ve seen his eyes, Stress, they were as red as mine!”

“Oh, goodness. Are you….alright? I mean, we all saw earlier that Evil X killed you, though. We just assumed he was causing some mischief.”

Tango shook his head. “Wels nicked my wing and I just,” he pushed his hands away from him, conveying a falling motion,”fell right into one of the towers.” He circled his arms around himself. “He didn’t help me. I couldn’t speak ‘cus I was hurt. But, I guess just by coincidence, Evil X came over and just….he said something about just going ahead and killing me and after that I was in my bed.”

Stress had momentarily forgotten about the cake and mugs sitting next to her, invested in his story. She had a hand over her mouth in sad surprise. “Did- did anything else happen?”

“Ah….Evil X came in, said Xisuma needed me to come with them. We go back up and Wels has these nasty red marks on his face but he’s still all evil and whatnot. Doc had him tied up and they just left. Suma wasn’t looking too good though.”

The lady eyed him curiously. “Not looking too good?”

“He was looking like he was gonna pass out. He said something about how he apparently hit Wels, something else about not affording to lose another Hermit.” Tango perked up. “Hey, do you know anything about that? I mean, I’ve been here for a while and the servers changed and stuff. Some people left, but he said it like….someone died or something. Like permadeath.”

Stress shook her head with pursed lips. “No, sorry Tango. Is there more to the story or do you want to eat some cake now.”

Slightly, Tango smiled. “Cake first.”

With a grin, she cut him a slice and moved to get some milk and cocoa beans for the hot chocolate. The two fell silent while she worked, pouring the milk in a small pot and placing it on top of a furnace where some heat began growing. She began to hum absentmindedly and cut herself from cake as well. Within a couple minutes, the milk warmed and she finished up grinding the cocoa beans with sugar.

“You like yours with whip cream and marshmallows, luv?” She looked up at Tango who was busy picking at something on his shirt, probably just to pass the waiting time.

“Hm? Oh yes, that’d be nice. Thanks, Stress!” The smile on his face grew and Stress couldn’t help but to warm at the sight of it. At least she had a knack for cheering up her friends with her recipes.

“Right then, they’re done!” She placed the cake and hot chocolate on a tray and had the demon follow her to a lounge-like area through a painting. Well, he’d never seen this before. Looks like she had a whole bunch of surprises.

“This is my private room to chill out once in a while, don’t tell anyone. I have a bunch of these.” She sat on a pink sofa tucked into one end of the long, thin room. “Given what on earth happened to you, I’m deeming you worthy to see it,” she added with a smile. Tango sat on the sofa as well, feeling how plush the cushions were.

“Guess I’m just that messed up now, apparently,” he chuckled. “Thanks again, Stress.” He took the cocoa happily.

“Anytime! If you need a sit, just come right on over.” She took a sip of her cocoa. “I really do hope Wels gets better though. And Hels too. Can’t imagine being kicked out of your own dimension.”

“Me too, Stress, me too.”

[yatorihell]

In The Darkness Chapter 67 - Felix Felicis

Noragami x Harry Potter AU

Words: 2,054

Summary: A burning question is answered, and a potion is taken

Also available on Yatorihell A03

Christmas break passed with no incident. The vision repeated itself in Yato’s head and the burning question: why did Professor Tenjin have Sakura’s necklace?

By the time it was time to board the Hogwarts Express and go back to school, Yato was exhausted. The visions never changed no matter how much he tried over the weeks. The thought of a horcrux being hidden under his nose had him distrustful of what Professor Tenjin was doing with it.

The trip back to Hogwarts was quiet. Staring out at snow-capped hills and icy lakes of the highlands, Yato could only hope Madame Kofuku had some answers for him.

No sooner had he, Yukine, and Hiyori had entered Hogwarts did Madame Kofuku appear, a bob of pink hair in a sea of black, searching for Yato. Her eyes lit on him, and in a second, she was dragging him by the sleeve up away from Yukine and Hiyori and up the winding staircase to the headmaster’s tower.

“Miss,” Yato said for the fourth time, his arm still captured as he was pulled along, “what happened? Did Professor Tenjin say something?”

Madame Kofuku looked behind and, seeing that they had left any remnants of eavesdropping students far behind them, she released his arm. “I spoke to the headmaster as soon as you told me what you saw. He asked to speak with you as soon as you come back to Hogwarts.”

Yato felt an unfamiliar chill up his spine. He had never feared Professor Tenjin when he was brought up to his office for insolence, flying in the corridors, or even truancy. But this… this was something he dreaded with every step.

All too soon they were at the headmaster’s door. Madame Kofuku didn’t bother knocking, instead leading Yato into the spacious office he’d been seeing every night for two weeks. Professor Tenjin was stood at the window, hands behind his back and his side profile showing that he was gazing out at the expanse of the lake beneath him.

They both remained silent, waiting for the headmaster to address them. Yato felt small as Professor Tenjin’s eyes fell on him across the room, and the smile did nothing to ease his jitters.

“Madame Kofuku, thank you for bringing him to me,” Professor Tenjin said. He made no bid to dismiss Madame Kofuku which was a small relief. 

Yato’s eyes followed as the headmaster crossed the floor in a sweep of black robes, his pipe barely visible in the folds of his sleeve as he came to stand behind his desk chair.

“I understand you had a vision.”

Yato’s gaze shifted to Madame Kofuku who gave him an imperceptible nod. “Yes, headmaster.”

“Of a horcrux?”

Again, a glance. Again, a nod.

“Yes.”

Professor Tenjin’s expression hadn’t changed as he set down his pipe and slid open the drawer on his desk. Its contents jostled at the movement and after brief rummaging Professor Tenjin found what he was looking for: a necklace on a silver chain. The same one Yato had seen in Grimmauld Place.

Yato frowned, wondering what this was meant to prove. If anything, it proved that he had broken into his home, stolen Sakura’s necklace, and knew that it was a horcrux.

“This,” Professor Tenjin said, “is a necklace from Hogsmeade.”

When the notable silence stretched on, he continued. “I imagine there are many necklaces like this one – trinkets that students buy throughout their years at Hogwarts –, which would make it all the more easier for the Sorcerer to conceal a horcrux. Like hiding a coin in a treasure chest.

Professor Tenjin waved his free hand in the air at the example, but seeing Yato’s uncertainty, he held out the necklace. “But I can assure you, this isn’t a horcrux.”

Yato’s fingers flinched before they closed around the cold stone, but this time no voice called out to him. Nothing begged him to open the clasp.

“How can that be possible?” Yato asked. He looked at Madame Kofuku, but she was just as lost as he was.

Professor Tenjin’s chair scraped back and when Yato turned the headmaster was sitting, hands folded in his lap, eyes closed in a usual frown. After a beat, his eyes opened but did not meet Yato.

“The Sorcerer knows how to manipulate you. There is a chance he is aware of what we’re doing and trying to lead you down the wrong path.”

The wrong path, Yato glanced at the necklace in his hand before placing it back on the desk with a gentle thud. So, the necklace isn’t a horcrux?

“Headmaster, if that is the case, is it of any use that Yato continues searching?” Madame Kofuku’s voice broke the silence that had settled around them.

A flicker of hope and panic fluttered in Yato’s chest, but it was quickly quashed by a simple word.

“No.”

Professor Tenjin's eyes finally met Yato’s, weighed with decision. These weren’t the eyes of a madman, nor a Deatheater. These were the eyes of a guardian.

“You are the best chance we have at finding and defeating the Sorcerer. Before the war comes that will end us all.”

~

With their shaken faith in Professor Tenjin resolved, Yato, Yukine, and Hiyori could breathe a sigh of relief now that they knew the truth. Whilst it was a bittersweet victory that the necklace wasn’t a horcrux – nor that Professor Tenjin was a Deatheater – there was a new, imminent threat:

Mock exams.

The first few weeks of January always brought sixth and seventh years alike to the library, desperately trying to cram information for forgotten subjects that would, to no avail, sink in.

“It’s only a mock exam,” Yato said. “I didn’t do well in mine and I turned it around. I have a real exam later and I’m not stressed.”

“Didn’t you fail two subjects?” Yukine pointed out.

“That’s beside the point.”

“Could you be quiet?” Hiyori asked.

The boys looked at the top of Hiyori’s head which was bent over a book thicker than the plate of cold toast in front of her. Gryffindor's table had become a makeshift study area before Hiyori would have her History of Magic exam. Mock exam, Yato kept pointing out, but she batted him away every time he tried to tug the book away.

Yato mimicked her, moving his mouth to match her phrase. Yukine bit back a smile lest Hiyori see them mocking her and break down altogether.

“You know, there are other ways to be sure you’ll win,” Yato nudged her in the side and, finally, Hiyori sighed and looked up. The book slammed shut harder than she intended as she swivelled to face Yato on the bench.

“And what,” Hiyori asked, “would that be?”

Yato grinned, one that Hiyori had come to know as his trouble-making grin, and reached into the pocket of his robe. A second later, pinched in between two fingers, was a vial.

“Luck would be a lady to- er, this morning, if you drank this.”

Hiyori looked horrified. Not only from the potion, but from what he was telling her to do.

“Yato!” Hiyori hissed. She looked behind her and at the other tables where, thankfully, no one had heard his proposition. “I can’t cheat!”

“Is it cheating if the exam doesn’t count?” Yato countered. He waggled the vial in between his fingers, watching Hiyori chew her lip and her eyes follow the potion vial.

“I mean, I was saving it for my potions exam today…” Yato pondered as if he were regretting the offer.

“Apparently you don’t need help with potions now you can make anything,” Yukine said, bitter from a term of being shown up at his own specialty.

Whilst that was true, Yato’s success only came from Madame Kofuku’s annotated book; something that he couldn’t bring into the exam.

“Well, a bit more luck couldn’t hurt.”

Yato began to retract the vial, but before he could slip the vial away Hiyori had taken it from his hands, uncorked the lid, and swallowed the entire potion before her better judgment could stop her.

Hiyori coughed and looked at Yato’s stunned face, mournful but unregretful. Silence wrapped around them as Yukine balanced his chin on his hand – waiting, watching, for what the potion would do.

Slowly, a smirk worked its way onto Hiyori’s face.

Faster than Yato could react, Hiyori had a hold on his tie, tugging him down sharply so they were practically face to face. Yato would’ve choked on his cereal if he could, but the fact that Hiyori’s lips were millimeters from his, and her eyes were boring into his very soul with an insatiable appetite. She leaned in even closer. Her mouth parted gently, breath ghosting his jaw and making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as she tilted her head to nibble – no, whisper – into his ear.

“You know I don’t need a potion to pass my exams,” Hiyori said in a low voice. A smile played at her lips as she pulled away and Yato swallowed hard. “But thank you.”

Hiyori swung her legs over the bench and without taking her bag or book left the Great Hall.

Yato and Yukine stared after her, open-mouthed. They exchanged a glance before Yukine burst out in hysterical laughter that drew the attention of a few neighbouring yet annoyed sixth-years.

“I wish you’d offered me some of that if it makes you that confident,” Yukine jibed. He decided it would be better not to tease Yato for the blush on his cheeks as he shook his head free of Hiyori’s spell.

Yato found the strength to close his mouth, but a moment later his lips were working back into a smile that threatened to split into a silly grin. He looked at Yukine, eyes bright with mischief.

“You wanna know a secret? You can’t tell Hiyori.”

Yukine looked at Yato doubtfully; they didn’t keep secrets. “What?”

“That wasn’t a potion.”

Yukine listed his head to the side with a frown. Yato’s grin grew giddier.

“I already took the potion and replaced it with pumpkin juice.”

Yukine’s mouth fell open, speechless. He’d tricked Hiyori into thinking she’d taken a potion… and she did that. “Why?!”

Yato shrugged and bit into a piece of toast. “She needed confidence, and she got it.”

Before Yukine could form a coherent sentence, Yato was scooping up his and Hiyori’s bags to take to his first lesson. Yato leaned over the table and pat Yukine on the cheek with the same giddy grin that would stay there for a week.

“Good luck with your exam.”

~

Hiyori felt that her mock exam went well; she easily remembered the dates and notable events of the first uses of magic and witch trials, and the buzz of the potion kept her on a high until dinner time.

Yet by the time the ‘potion’ had worn off, Hiyori was trying to forget the entire day.

She would’ve died of embarrassment if she could see herself that morning – or if anyone else had paid her attention besides Yato and Yukine. She had to force her mind to think of something else to stop herself from wilting with embarrassment every time the memory intruded, but there was no avoiding Yato.

After dinner, Yato and Yukine approached her at Gryffindor table, which she noted was the same spot she had sat that morning. She felt a hole would swallow her if she didn’t stand quickly and follow them from that embarrassing moment, but it seemed that what she did that morning couldn’t have been so embarrassing.

Yato greeted her just the same; no awkwardness, no shyness, though Hiyori felt a twinge in her chest whenever he looked at her. She felt herself searching for anything different about him as they made their way to the library, but nothing told her that he’d been thinking about that morning.

Yukine, on the other hand, watched the two interact, painfully aware of how they stepped around the elephant in the room and wishing that they would stop being so damn shy about expressing how they felt.

Still, he couldn’t force them to. They would have to work it out themselves.

Little did he know that a gift was already waiting in Yato’s room, heart-shaped and addressed from Hiyori.