#and half dirty fighter's fake-out.)

[wooataes]

Real Eyes, Fake Lies (Part Seven)

Pairing: soulmate!Lee Jihoon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.4K

Warnings: angst, Hanahaki AU, crying, swearing. Sexual tension? Mentions of tattoos, piercings in questionable areas, Jihoon getting flustered over (insinuated) dirty thoughts.

Summary: What do you do when you find out the one person that was created by the universe to be yours doesn’t want you back?

A/N: Oh my goodness guys. Thank you all for 1000 followers. You’re all the loveliest and I can’t thank you all enough for enjoying my stories! 🥰 also dedicating this chapter to the love of my life Bada Lee because I’m obsessed with Street Woman Fighter rn can you tell 😂

- Tae 💜✨

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The very next morning, Jihoon stirs from his slumber to find a barrage of texts from Soonyoung, seemingly excited about his best friend joining him on the camping trip. He rolls his eyes with a little smile as he looks over the wall of text detailing when the crew will leave for the trip and what to bring. Jihoon makes a mental note to invest in a small tent for him and Ji-ah to share and some snacks to bring for the bonfire.

With a long yawn, Jihoon rises tiredly as the sunlight creeps in through his window, the time on his phone reading 7:47am. He sighs as he lets himself slip out of his bed and onto the carpeted floor to reach for a pair of shorts and a compression gym shirt. The weather is looking nice enough for a jog, he thinks. After sliding into his sneakers and putting his earphones in, he places his phone into the pockets of his shorts before taking off out the front door and into the direction of the city streets.

After a thirty minute jog, Jihoon finds himself stepping into an intriguing bakery with the intention for a bagel and a bitter black coffee. As he steps into Love Letter Cafe, his eyes widen as he sees none other than his soulmate sitting inside one of the booths on the right hand side of the Cafe surrounded by three others. Jihoon panics for a moment before slipping into an unused booth on the left side of the room, peeking over to see who was seated around you.

His eyes fall on both yours and his housemates, Seokmin and Mingyu with you, Seokmin by your side and Mingyu diagonally across from you. He observes the new edition to your group, his long dark hair tied up in a half up-half down style wearing baggy gray sweatpants and a white tank top, his left arm adorned with tattoos from his shoulder all the way down to his fingertips, a black hooded jacket sitting over his lap as you seemingly laugh at a comment he’s made. You are also in the same outfit as the mystery man, your long hair pulled up into a high ponytail, your oversized jacket falling off your shoulders as you lean forward to take a sip of your hot chocolate in front of you. His cheeks flush pink as he takes in your new style; everytime he has seen you, you’re always in pastel colours, girly skirts and dresses. This new look suits you.

Jihoon feels slightly intimidated by the look of the man you’re facing, but is surprised when the buff man lets out the smallest airy giggle he’s ever heard. Oh dear god, it’s another Mingyu.

“How did he not get fired?” The new boy giggles between sips from his cup, your laugh echoing through the new empty cafe with the others.

“Because Eomoni is a good person, just like her son.” You wink at the boy, laughing as he rolls his eyes.

“You only say that because she was nice enough to hire you.” He huffs, jutting his bottom lip out.

“Yah, Jeon Jungkook!” An older lady over the counter scolds loudly at your table. Your smirk grows. “Don’t speak about my best worker like that!” She is waving her hand dramatically.

Jeon Jungkook. Jihoon’s eyes widened. Oh. He knew this kid. He was Mingyu’s best friend from high school. They parted for college after Jungkook left to start a tattoo apprenticeship, but the two boys always stayed in close contact. Mingyu always brought up stories of Jungkook at home, but this was the first time he’s ever seen the boy in person.

“And speak to your mother with respect!” You smack the table playfully, causing Mingyu and Seokmin to erupt with laughter.

“Ahh, this is why you’re my favourite!” Mrs Jeon grins at you, placing a cupcake in front of you as you squeal excitedly.

“Eomoni Jeon’s cupcakes are the best!” You grin happily, taking a bite of the treat while wiggling in your seat.

“Eomma, why don’t I get one?” The boy pouts sweetly, but she just smacks the back of his head lightly. He whines.

“Because you’re not nice to my honorary daughter.” She wags her finger at him before walking back behind the counter, your smirk still evident as you eat the cupcake gleefully.

“This is why you need to be nice to your elders, Jeon.” You winked, letting out a triumphant laugh.

“Watch it, Choi,” he huffs. “Remember who your dance partner is for Soonyoungie-hyung’s practice today.”

“How can I forget?” You clap back, leaning back against the wall. “Mingyu only reminded me thirteen times because of his whining.”

“It’s not fair.” He grumbles, poking at his croissant on the table. “I don’t understand why I had to be cut for Jungkookie to take over my spot.”

“Sweetie, I hate to admit it, but you have two left feet when it comes to partner work.” You smile at Jihoon’s housemate, who only groans.

“It’s not my fault I’m tall and uncoordinated!”

“That’s right.” You soothe him. “But think of it this way, you still get to film the promo video today for Soonie’s dance crew, and you’re still an amazing solo dancer.”

“Do you really think that, Y/Nie?” He pouts, as you laugh and ruffle his hair.

“I do.” You grin softly as he slowly nods.

“And think about it,” Seokmin chimes in. “You’ll be getting paid too!”

Jihoon raises his eyebrow. He knew of Soonyoung’s dance crew. It wasn’t anything special, in Sooyoung's words. It was just him and his good friends who wanted to join and have fun. He knew that Mingyu and Jun would go every second Saturday to go meet him and do some dancing, but he didn’t know you were in the crew too.

“This is true..” Mingyu nods, a little smile growing on his face.

“There’s the Gyu we know and love.” You encourage him, and Jihoon swore if Mingyu had a tail, he’d be wagging it right now. “I don’t understand why Soonie needs me for the video though.” You hum, a frown forming on your lips. “I only do this for fun. The boys group dance in my opinion is a lot better than our one too.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Seokmin raises his eyebrow.

“Isn’t what obvious?” You blink.

“He wants you to be the main feature of the video to get views.” Jungkook laughs, and your cheeks turn red.

“Don’t be stupid, Jeon!” You swat his hand.

“Oh sure,” he humors you. “He totally didn’t Bada Lee you up and get you looking like a meal to make you stand at the back.”

“Don’t you talk about my wife Bada Lee that way!” You pout, making the other three laugh. “And don’t compare her out-of-this-world looks to plain old me! That’s an insult to my queen.”

“Y/N, you don’t realize how hot you are, do you?” Jungkook leans back in his seat, eyebrow raised.

Who does this kid think he is? Jihoon scoffs. He clearly must have a thing for you. He is unsure if the grumbling in the pit of his stomach is from his hunger or something else brewing. No, Jihoon. Don’t be ridiculous.

“I’m not hot.” You roll your eyes, leaning your head back on the wall. “And you shouldn’t be talking that way.” You scold him again. “You have a soulmate now, and I’m pretty sure Namjoon-Oppa wouldn’t approve.”

“Yah, I may have a soulmate, but I can appreciate an attractive person when I see one.” He defends himself. “Even Mingyu and I had a crush on you in middle school- OW!” He yelps as Jihoon’s housemate smacks him.

“Yeah for about a week!” You frown, shaking your head. “That doesn’t count. You’re only saying that to make me feel better, and I’m flattered. Really I am, but you don’t have to lie.”

“But we’re not…”

The boys pause as they see you shrink in your seat, arms hugging around your knees. They give each other a silent look before nodding in agreement.

“I’m sorry, Bug.” Jungkook pouts as you nod your head slowly.

“Sorry,” you sigh, wincing and shaking your head at the icky feeling in your stomach. “Shouldn’t have snapped.”

Jihoon feels awful. He can feel the self-consciousness oozing through your body mixed with sadness and anxiety.

“Okay, let’s change the subject,” Jungkook offers, nudging you from across the table. “How’s the ink holding up?”

Jihoon’s ears perk up. Ink?

“It’s not too bad,” you hum, pushing your jacket down and sliding the top of your tank top over to the side to reveal a small galaxy of black ink drawn into your collarbone under the fabric. Your soulmate’s cheeks flush as he sees the new tattoo on your skin, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. “A bit itchy now, but that means it’s healing, right?” You tilt your head at the tattooed boy, who only nods in response. He leans forward and runs a finger over the skin before nodding with approval.

“Yeah, it’s looking good.” He beams. “You do realize the secret will be out now once this video comes out.”

“I mean, yeah,” you shrug, letting the tank top fall back into place, a few stray stars peeking out from either side of the fabric. “But Cheol can’t do anything now. It’s literally embedded into my skin.” You laugh softly.

Jihoon never took you to be a rebel like this. He only ever heard stories of you being a well mannered goody two-shoes. Not that there was anything wrong with that, of course.

“I can’t believe you managed to keep this under wraps from him, Bug.” Seokmin speaks to you with concerned eyes.

“I mean I could be doing worse things like doing drugs.” You shrug, taking another sip of your drink. “But I’m getting cute tattoos instead. And I love my brother, but sometimes he’s not very observant over things like that. I have done countless things with you guys that he doesn’t even know about.”

This piques Jihoon’s interest as you nonchalantly sip from your drink, a twinkle of mischief in your eyes.

“Does that mean I can still hold the blackmail of your nipple piercings you got 3 years ago over your head for you to do my bidding?” Jungkook smirks.

Jihoon is about to faint. He blinks the image out of his head multiple times. He needs to get out of here before he hears anything more that he isn’t supposed to hear.

“That was when I was drunk and stupid.” You hum, looking up at Jungkook. “But I mean, you can if you want. But do keep in mind I will let Eomoni know about how on the same day, you also got a piercing on your d-”

You yelp as you feel a swat on your arm by the flustered tattooed man before bursting out into laughter with the others as Jihoon steps out of the Cafe in a rush, cheeks flushed red and stomach growling. He immediately starts to jog again, needing to get his mind off the conversations he overheard in the Cafe.

It’s well after lunch time when Jihoon hears the front door open to see Mingyu and Junhui enter the living room. Jihoon lifts his head from his spot on the couch and nods his head in greeting to them, Mingyu’s soulmate emerging from the kitchen with a smile.

“Hi darling,” Wonwoo coos as he wraps Mingyu up in a gentle embrace. “How did the shoot go?”

“Tiring.” Junhui groans, falling onto the couch beside Jihoon. He notices that he was wearing the same attire that you and Jungkook were wearing in the cafe this morning.

“Not for me!” Mingyu grins. “But, Y/Nie did want to film a TikTok dance challenge with me so I didn’t feel left out.” He beams proudly now, eyes sparkling.

“Because she is a good person.” Wonwoo hums, nodding his head sagely. “How was she and the rest of the ninety seven crew?”

“They were good!” He smiles. “We had our monthly catch up at Eomoni Jeon’s Cafe and got to see some new designs Kookie was coming up with. I might get a little one to help him out.”

“You two are too alike.” Junhui laughs, leaning his head back over the edge of the couch. “Y/N and Soonyoung were ready to smack them both by the end of the shoot.”

“That’s because Jungkook kept wanting to fiddle with the video camera.” Mingyu whined. “That’s not my fault!”

“Of course it isn’t.” Wonwoo nods sympathetically, kissing his soulmate’s cheek.

Jihoon stays silent on the couch, listening carefully to the conversation going on around him, eyebrows furrowed as he took in the new information being fed to him.

“When is the video planning to come out?” Junhui lifts his head to the tall man, tilting his head.

“Let’s see… We did three choreos, the group dance, Y/N and Jungkook’s duo and Soonyoungie-hyung’s solo, it should take a week or so to edit. So like.. maybe two weeks max?” Mingyu thinks, lips pursed in thought.

Jihoon pauses for a moment as he hears the mention of you. A duet with Jungkook? Interesting. He makes a mental note to keep an eye out to watch the video when it’s released.

“Jihoon-ah,” Wonwoo calls out, causing him to blink back into reality.

“Hmm?” He hums in response.

“Soonyoung gave me a list for us for the trip. Did you want to come to the store with me tomorrow to go get everything so we only have to do one big shopping trip?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Jihoon nods. “What do we need to get?”

“Just stuff for the tents, really.” Wonwoo thinks. “Some sleeping bags, heat packs, blankets, towels for the beach…”

“Mhm, we’ll get it all sorted.”

Jihoon honestly doesn’t know how he is going to go during the trip. The fact he is bringing his not-soulmate around his actual soulmate for a prolonged amount of time almost feels cruel and borderline sadistic for him to flaunt his girlfriend around you. You have been feeling fine lately. Jihoon doesn’t feel much sad emotions from you lately, and he wonders if his hope is misinterpreted as you being able to hide the pain better.

Later that night, Jihoon finds himself once again absentmindedly scrolling through his instagram app and landing onto your profile. The first post he sees is a new Reel posted an hour ago by you. You caption the video in dedication to Bada Lee, with a short explanation about how you didn’t do the dance justice. He chuckles at the sight of the first comment on said post; your older brother simply asking “WTF IS THAT ON YOUR SHOULDER?!”

In the video, you’re standing beside Mingyu and doing the new trending Smoke dance, your newly discovered tattoo peeking from under your tank top, taunting Jihoon. His eyes are wide as he watches you and Mingyu (mostly you) execute the dance perfectly, impressed with how well you both hit the signature ‘smoke you up’ dance move. At the end of the clip, you both get cut off as Soonyoung struts his way into frame, pretending to blow out the fake smoke coming from your Thumb-Lighter, causing the three of you to erupt in laughter before the screen fades to black. Jihoon’s reflection stares back at him, smiling. Once he realizes, he forces his face to turn back into a scowl. He can’t be smiling about another girl while he still has Ji-ah.

When he views your Story next, his cheeks begin to flush like it has done too many times today. You’ve shared a post from Soonyoung’s crew’s profile, a video filmed from the side of the dance studio of you and Jungkook. You’re both placed in the middle of the room, Vanilla by Kai playing on the speakers. The clip is only for 20 seconds, but Jihoon studies it thoroughly. He watches as your hands reach around from behind Jungkook and skim down his front, followed directly by Jungkook using his right arm to control how your body rolls in time to the beat and his direction. What sticks out the most to your soulmate, though, is the way Jungkook’s arm reaches over you, and in turn your head follows his arm movement, a sly smirk on your face as you turn your whole body to face him and maintain eye contact.

In Jihoon’s opinion, Jungkook looks like he’s about to pounce on you, and you don’t look too far off from returning the sentiment. He feels a pit forming in his stomach once more. His intrusive thoughts are cut short when the chorus of dancers in the room all scream excitedly at the chemistry between you and Mingyu’s best friend, causing the both of you to break character and start laughing. Jungkook puckers his lips playfully, causing you to roll your eyes and push Jungkook towards the cameraman, Mingyu with a smile and a shake of your head.

Jesus Christ, Jihoon. He thinks to himself. You really need to get your shit together. You can’t get jealous over a girl you don’t even want.

This is bullshit. Jihoon doesn’t actually like you. This is some stupid soulmate related shit. He read up about feeling closer connections because of the soulmate bond; that has to be it. His mind is just playing tricks on him.

With a sigh, Jihoon locks his phone screen and places it face down on his bedside table, rolling over and pulling the blankets up to his chin. He squeezes his eyes shut in an attempt to try and get some sleep and get the lingering thoughts about you out of his head.

“Do you think we should do the presentation as an essay or a slideshow debate style?”

It has been a week since Jihoon has last seen you, and if he’s honest, he’s been avoiding any place where you have been frequenting when he could. So far, he’s denied a morning coffee date with Ji-ah, a gaming night at your place with Soonyoung, and purposely showed up early to Film Studies class to sit at a random desk, leaving you to sit alone at the front. He’s decided enough is enough, he needs to keep this relationship strictly professional if he wants to maintain his relationship with Ji-ah. It’s now Friday afternoon, the only time where Jihoon absolutely has to be in your presence in order to get this project rolling.

“Hmm?” Jihoon blinks, looking up from his laptop, eyebrows raised. “Uhh.. you can pick.”

“Okay.” You hum quietly, looking back at your own laptop, continuing to work in silence.

Jihoon can feel the worry in your stomach, but he ignores it. He can be professional and cordial with you and not get feelings involved. He can’t, he won’t.

“What points have you made so far, so I can add them to my list to rebut?” Another bout of silence runs through both of you, and you notice that either your soulmate didn’t hear you, or is choosing to ignore you. “Jihoon-ssi?”

“Sorry?” He keeps typing, not lifting his head.

“Have I done something wrong?” You ask, closing your computer screen.

“What?” Jihoon stops now, looking up at you. “Why would you think that?”

“Because last week we were actually…” you pause, looking everywhere but at Jihoon. “I don’t know, at least getting along despite everything happening. And now, you’re acting like it’s a chore to be around me.”

Jihoon is floored for a moment. You’re a bit too observant for your own good. He opens his mouth to speak, but you keep going.

“And look, I get it. I’m the last person you would want to be around. I’m already jeopardizing everything you have with your girlfriend and everything else in this stupid situation, but I thought we were okay.” Your knee is shaking under the table, staring at the chipped wood instead of looking up at his face. “I know I’m already insufferable and you would prefer to be anywhere else but here. You know what…” you shake your head now, taking your laptop. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have put you in this crappy situation. I shouldn’t have been so stupid to think that we could be civil with each other. I will go see Professor Kim and tell him that we can’t work together and you can find someone else and I’ll just finish this project on my ow-”

Your soulmate cuts off your babbling by grabbing your wrist before you can stand up completely. His grip is firm but gentle as you fall silent, blinking the unshed tears from your eyes as you finally look at him.

This is the first time you have had skin to skin contact with your soulmate since that fateful day in the rain. You involuntarily shiver as you feel a zap run up the back of your spine, and your soulmate shivers in unison.

Jihoon is almost distraught at the sight of your heartbroken face up close. He, again, blames this stupid soulmate bond.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs, keeping his hold on your wrist. “I am just going through some shit. It’s not you, I promise Y/N.” His gaze is intense as he looks into your eyes, your cheeks flushing. “I’m sorry if it made you think I was mad at you or something, I’m just in my own head right now.”

“I’m sorry,” you frown.

“Why? You didn’t do anything wrong. Just exist.”

“That’s the point.” You whisper now. “I exist. I am a wedge in the way of so many people right now. I know Cheol and Hannie want to plan on getting married soon but I still live in that house. Seokmin and Soonyoung only invite me to things because they feel sorry for me, and I feel bad even being in the same room with you knowing you love someone else.” Jihoon feels another crack hit your heart. “I just exist and am an issue for so many people. I’m more than happy to do this project alone, Jihoon-ssi.” You move to take your wrist out of his grip, but he just holds on tighter.

“I can’t speak for the others, but if I had an issue with you being my partner for this project, I would have gone to Professor Kim myself. I’m fine to do this project with you, Y/N, and I’m sorry if I made you think otherwise. Please, can you sit?”

You pause, watching your soulmate nervously before taking a long breath, slowly nodding and slipping back into your chair.

“I’m sorry for my outburst.” You mumble, rubbing at your eyes. “I get too far into my negative thoughts and…”

“It’s okay, I get it. And again, I can’t speak for the others, but from what I hear from Soonyoung, he and Seokmin are more than happy to have you around, if that makes you feel any better.”

You only nod silently, biting down on your bottom lip.

“Here, these are my notes.” He pushes his computer towards you, raising his eyebrows hopefully.

Jihoon may want to be civil and professional, but he’d be damned if he made a girl cry, no matter who it is.

“Have we got everything?”

Jihoon grumbles a tired ‘yes’ to Wonwoo, alongside Mingyu, Chan and Ji-ah as they carry their camping packs towards your house around the corner.

It has been two weeks since your supposed outburst in front of Jihoon. Since then, you have been quite reluctant and withdrawn when you have to speak with him, but to him, it’s expected. He chooses to just go with the flow when it comes to you, and let his instincts guide him, which seemingly has been going okay so far.

The sun is barely beginning to rise in the sky, Soonyoung lecturing all attendees for ‘Choi Seungcheol’s Birthday Bash’ to be at your house bright and early at 6:30am to be on the road by 7:00 for the four hour drive.

“The sun is barely up, I don’t know why I have to be.” Jihoon hears a groan from Seokmin as they see a large bus parked on the curb.

“Because you love hyung, and you want to be ready to have a fun trip with the people you love.” A tired, monotone voice coming from Jeonghan responds. There are three sleepy bodies standing outside, putting the camping gear in the luggage compartment underneath the bus. The three said bodies are Seokmin, Jeonghan and a chirpy Soonyoung, who happily waves when he sees his best friend show up.

“You made it!” He cheers happily.

“Mm.” Jihoon mumbles as he places his bags in the luggage area, Ji-ah leaning forward and giving him a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Soonyoung,” she smiles. “Thank you for inviting me along!”

“Oh, it’s nothing!” He waves his hand happily with a smile. “Really, the more the merrier! Go hop on and find a seat, we’re just about to take off.”

Jihoon is the last person of his housemates to step onto the bus as he eyes the seats. As he expected, the usual pairs of soulmates are together. Mingyu is with Wonwoo, just behind a sleepy Seungkwan and Hansol. Ji-ah takes a seat across from Mingyu and Wonwoo, Jihoon slipping in easily beside her. He eyes the next row of seats towards the front of the bus as he sees Chan sitting alone, Seokmin and Soonyoung taking place across from him. His eyes widen as he sees his last roommate, Junhui, step onto the bus with a tall man behind him, cheeks pink as they walk hand in hand. Said tall man adjusts his glasses with his free hand, his long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail.

“Oh, that’s why he hasn’t been home lately.” Wonwoo grins, eyebrows wiggling.

“Minghao is his soulmate?!” Mingyu grins excitedly. “Oh my gosh, wait until Y/N sees.”

At the mention of your name, you step onto the bus with Kkuma in your arms, eyes scanning the seats. Jihoon takes in the floral yellow dress you’re wearing with your hair pulled back into two braids tied with a yellow ribbon, cheeks tinting pink.

When you make eye contact with Mingyu, you mouth ‘MINGHAO?!’ with exaggerated wide eyes, which only garners a giggle and aggressive nod from Mingyu. You shoot him an impressed look which makes him laugh again, before taking a single seat diagonally across from Jihoon and Ji-ah alone, placing Kkuma on the empty seat beside you.

Seokmin and Soonyoung take their seats in front of you, before Jeonghan steps on with the birthday boy in tow.

“Okay everyone, are we ready to go?” Jeonghan calls out, smiling as everyone nods or mumbles a yes. “Then we are right on schedule!”

“Birthday bash!” Soonyoung starts to chant. “Birthday bash! Birthday bash!”

You start to giggle as the others start chanting, Seungcheol shaking his head with a fond grin, taking place in the front passenger seat as Jeonghan takes the driver’s seat.

Dear God, Jihoon thinks as Soonyoung cheers loudly, causing Chan to burst into giggles. This is going to be a long four hours.

Real Eyes, Fake Lies taglist

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[z34l0t]

The way Dustin Poirier put it seemed to surprise many people. Maybe it’s because of who he is, which is to say one of the most successful and seemingly levelheaded fighters still active in the sport, the kind of guy who seems to always have it together. Or maybe it was because of how he put it in an interview with Ariel Helwani on “The MMA Hour” earlier this week.In the aftermath of his knockout loss to Justin Gaethje last year, Poirier said, he slipped into a “darkness” that consumed his thoughts, causing genuine concern for his own well-being.“The world doesn’t know, but the people close to me know,” Poirier said. “I went through some real mental struggles.”

This echoed what we heard from former UFC featherweight champion Alexander Volkanovski just a few months ago. Trying to explain why he accepted a short-notice fight up a weight class against an opponent who’d already beaten him once, Volkanovski explained that he’d been struggling mentally and hoped booking a fight would help.“For some reason, when I wasn't fighting or in camp or keeping busy, I was just doing my head in,” Volkanovski said at the time.Stick around this sport long enough and you’ll realize this is a recurring theme. Those periods after each fight, whether they win or lose, can be hard on fighters. There are several very good reasons for this, just like there are several reasons why active fighters aren’t eager to admit to struggling with it. (Just look up some of the reactions from peers to Volkanovski’s admission, for instance.)

I was reminded of this while asking around among fighters this week. Many of those still making their way in the sport didn’t want to discuss the bouts of post-fight depression. They worried fans or fellow fighters might use it against them in the future. Then I asked Chael Sonnen, half-expecting to get some tough guy answer in keeping with his public persona.

“OMG, post-fight depression is very real,” Sonnen wrote back. “I experienced it every time, and I faked my way through it because I thought it was my dirty secret.”What made him realize he wasn’t alone, Sonnen said, was a discussion with a former opponent named Brian Stann, who explained it in a way that made sense. It also helped him realize he wasn’t alone in struggling with it.Stann may be one of the most all-around remarkable individuals to ever fight in the UFC. A graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy, where he played linebacker on the Midshipmen football team, Stann received the Silver Star for valor in combat while serving in Iraq.Stann entered the UFC just after exiting the Marine Corps, and went on to have a solid career in the UFC that included memorable bouts with Sonnen, Chris Leben, Michael Bisping and Wanderlei Silva. After retiring from fighting he instantly became one of the top color commentators on UFC broadcasts. He went on to earn an MBA from Northwestern, and now serves as CEO of Hunt Military Communities, the nation’s largest owner of military housing.

Stann is another one of those people who seems to have it all together. Maybe that’s why hearing it from him made it easier for Sonnen to accept that post-fight depression could get to anyone. When I reached out to ask what Stann had said to Sonnen to explain the phenomenon, he had no trouble putting it into words.“When you win, you have this monumental feeling that simply can't be replicated anywhere else in your life,” Stann said. “You had this huge mountain to climb, you do it, it finally happens. And when it's over, you kind of fall into this lull where it’s this dead zone as a fighter. It’s like that until the phone rings and you get your next fight, your next mountain to climb. That can be really tough, especially when a lot of fighters, their life is really different when they're in training camp.”

Training for a UFC fight is an intense, all-consuming process, Stann explained. There’s a date on the calendar and another human being somewhere out there in the world who’s thinking only about beating you up. And you, similarly, are thinking only about him.

For weeks you live that way. A “razor focus,” as Stann put it. Your training regimen and diet are the most important things in your life. All the other stuff you might want to do — take your kids out for ice cream, drink a cold beer, eat a huge meal and fall asleep on the couch — becomes stuff you’ll do later, after the fight. In your mind, that lovely life on the other side of the fight feels like a paradise in waiting. But when you actually get there, Stann explained, mainly what you feel is a sudden absence.“You miss it,” said Stann. “Suddenly there’s a lot of white space in your day, and you don’t really know what to do with it.”And that’s if you win. That’s the best-case scenario. If you lose, you have all that stuff to look forward to plus the despair of professional failure. It’s like any career setback, except this one was broadcast on live TV — and it may or may not come with a free concussion thrown in for good measure.The other part is that, with a win or a loss, everyone you know seems to want to talk to you about your fight. That can get annoying even in victory. In defeat it’s borderline intolerable.

“I remember when I lost to Chael, my barber had an opinion on it,” Stann said. “I had a job at the time, and the people at work would read the articles and tell me what the writers and the journalists had to say about my fight. You can't find people who ask you, ‘Hey how are your kids doing? Drove past your house, looks like you did some work to the front lawn.’ Nobody wants to talk about that. They only ask you about the fight. And man, you could get really caught up where that becomes your identity. Your identity is no longer your character, your family, who you are, your faith. Your identity is the last performance you had in that Octagon.”This is part of why fighting can be like an addiction for many people, Stann said. If you fight and win, you get a high that you can’t get anywhere else in your life, followed by a lull that only encourages you to chase the next high. If you lose, the fall is even more precipitous, and you become convinced that only the high of a win will bring you back up again.It’s this thinking that can be really dangerous, Stann said. His advice to fighters in the throes of this cycle was to remember that fighting is a thing they do, but not the entirety of who they are.“I think that that's really essential,” Stann said. “And it's really the same thing for military veterans. I've seen military veterans go to way darker corners of their mind with regret, with survivor's guilt. When they took that uniform off, they felt like that's what made them who they are. They have to get to a place where they realize it's not, that they can still take all the energy and skills and leadership abilities they gained and apply it to something new.”

Gaining that perspective can be easier said than done. According to Poirier, beginning therapy after his loss to Gaethje helped him put things in the proper focus. It’s how he came to realize that fighting could be a job, but might ultimately leave him unfulfilled as a totalizing identity.“I think it’s important to like, open up and talk about how you feel,” Poirier said. “You know, we’re such in the spotlight of being tough guys all the time, but we’re people too. That’s the part of the mindset, like, Dustin the fighter. But what about Dustin? What about me?”Because when the fighting is done, then it’s only the person left. And eventually, no matter how many fights you win or how much money you make, everyone has to take off the gloves for the last time.

[tautline-hitch]

my favourite line is Terror’s foretopmast staysail downhaul because—no, I apologize, I will take it no further. 

there are some excellent lines in The Terror—I think “I am hungry and I want to live” is excellently understated (like i 100% get why the Monologue strikes some people as slightly bathetic, but it works for me); “Close is nothing” remains solid; “Does one not bring one’s habits to Terror” is as I have said I think before a pretty enjoyable exploitation of the inaudibility of italics—but I would like to mention one that is much less of a showpiece and also I think quite excellent:

I don’t know what you’re due.

The barb on it! In the aftermath of the previous episode’s flogging, the crack of the cat is right there. Crozier is at this stage barely competent as a commanding officer, but he is also, perhaps more significantly, no longer functioning as a gentleman; he is not dressing or speaking or conducting himself as a gentleman must. And Fitzjames informs him it’s been noticed in such a perfectly gentlemanly way: this little assertion of class and power, of the hierarchy which underpins every interaction on a warship (and this is a warship, because Crozier by his methods of discipline has made it one). What is a thief due? Well, that depends on his station. What are the conditions for mutiny? Shipwreck, alcohol, flogging—and a captain without authority. Which authority Crozier has just spent on those 16 bottles. 

I love too that we don’t see Crozier’s face; he looks away from us and from Fitzjames as the line is delivered, still in the dregs of the belief he can disguise how far things have slipped. Instead we get that understated, unconvincing “I did no such thing”, cut across Fitzjames’s line and overwhelmed by it; instead we see what he sees, Blanky and Goodsir’s unsurprised embarrassed resignation. Whatever he’d thought he was to them, in this instant he has become a circumstance to be managed: they believe Fitzjames without question, and he is locked out of that circle. This is the moment, I think, at which he understands that he is no longer in control. For Crozier the end of vanity happens here. 

[kpop-dungeon-dark]

The Experiment. (Dom!Sehun x You)

•TRIGGER WARNING•

Warning(s): Con-Noncon (you consent to the act for the sake of play), dacryphilia, choking, anal, hair pulling, bondage, fear kink, gagging, slapping, pretend hate sex, puppy kink, orgasm denial, degradation and humiliation. Browse at your own risk.

Y/n gulped as she walked hand-in-hand with her older, much bigger boyfriend and dom, Sehun. A couple of 7 months now, they had soon realised after a few weeks of going out that both of them liked things on the… rougher side.

Today, they were going to try… something, after very careful planning and discussion.

Sehun knew he had to be the responsible one in the relationship always. And so during experiments as well as 'serious' things he didn't play around or let Y/n shy away, sitting her down and planning everything out.

He didn't ever want to hurt her. Not even accidentally.

The couple came to a halt when they reached the trailer placed in the middle of the jungle, Sehun turning to the girl and pushing her closer by the back of her neck before touching his lips to her forehead.

"I love you."

"I love you too… sir." A timid whisper followed the manly voice, her legs in a complete contrast to her scared voice, thighs squeezing against one another to ease the tension between them.

Oh. Her panties were already soaked.

"You know your safe words, pup." The key turned in the lock and Sehun was in character by the time the door to the trailer slowly opened inwards, his grip hardening on the back of her neck as he roughly hauled her in, stepping inside before hitting the lights as she started to whine and struggle.

"Get in here you little whore!" He was amazed by how fast her tears busted out, as if on cue. "Pathetic! Thinking you can fight against your owner! What a bad dog!" Y/n loved the insults as well as the rough grip he had on her hair, moving her before going to close the door. "You, little pup, need lots of training-!"

The man's words were cut short when she grabbed a vase that had been put intentionally there before hitting his arm hard enough with it that his grip on her loosened, aiding the girl in slipping away through the still ajar door.

"I WILL NEVER SLEEP WITH A SICK AND DIRTY MAN LIKE YOU!" The girl shrieked, her bad acting looking like one out of those porn videos as she rushed away from him, Sehun following soon after grunting and cussing. "HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!"

They knew nobody would come as no one could hear them. This was in the middle of nowhere. They knew it. They had planned it. For weeks.

But something about blindly running in the dark followed by a man so strong and of Sehun's kind, made adrenaline rush through Y/n's veins, her core just getting needier and needier. It was a chilly night. But the fire glowing hotter and hotter deep within her ovaries was providing her enough warm to keep running as tears blurred her vision.

This felt so real. So dangerous. So vicious. Cruel. Terrifying, even.

And she loved it.

The thoughts of what was going to follow this made her knees weak, causing them to buckle up as she went tumbling down against the dead leaves, making her groan as she landed on her chest, wanting to be pounded from behind right there.

"Oh no! Oh no!" She cried harder, sounding more aroused with each word, trying to 'weakly' crawl away as Sehun approached her from behind, clicking his tongue which made her struggle harder. "OH NO SOMEONE HELP ME PLEASE!"

"Absolutely pathetic" clicking his tongue, the man effortlessly grabbed her ankle, dragging her against the leaves as she squawked and drooled humiliatingly, trying to 'break free' from her 'captor' as he dragged her back to the trailer. "You could have at least tried to run away, tsk. But you're really eager, huh?" The man didn't know if he was in character or speaking in general.

Because his slut of a cumsock was always ready to be fucked by him.

In the most vile of ways.

"OH NO! LEAVE ME! LEAVE ME YOU VILE DIRTY MAN!" Her heart was thumping in her ears as she struggled to act, going a little wordless from the excitement of what was to come, almost stopping completely when he threw her over his shoulder and entered the trailer before locking it shut and walking to the bed, throwing her on it. "OH GOD! OH PLEASE NO!"

"Hold still!" Slapping one of her breasts harshly, Sehun felt himself slipping deeper into his dominant headspace, in which he wasn't so tolerable to any sort of fussing, tearing her skimpy little outfit off. "Sure you want me to let you go huh slut?" Now hitting her cheek, the male said in a stern voice.

"Because from the hooker shit you wear it appears you want anything with a cock real or fake to fuck all of your pathetic little nasty holes" when she started to cry harder and thrash around, the man grunted and pulled-tore her panties off, taking a quick sniff before pushing them in her mouth, the girl's sensitive tongue picking up the salty taste almost instantly.

"Disgusting little whore lying to my face!" Grabbing a handful of hair from the back of her head, the man pulled her head back to have her look up at him before he slapped her again. "When you are practically dripping! Such a nasty little dog I have here!" Another slap on the same cheek before he let go of her hair and slapped her other cheek with his now free hand, pinching and pulling at her now reddening, tear stained cheeks.

Y/n's struggling died down a bit as her pussy pulsated harder, ovaries feeling like they were flipping in satisfaction from the cruel slaps, pupils dilating.

Sehun chuckled as his thumb grazed over her wet lips, own tongue running over his as he stepped on her feet to restrict movement. He loved to make a mess of that pretty face, inserting his thumbs in either sides of her mouth now before pulling at them, index fingers pushing her top lip out of the way to humiliatingly reveal her teeth and gums like she was some lab rat.

"You've been a bad little dog for Master, pup. And you know what happens to bad little dogs?" He stretched her mouth even more, eyes cold as ice as he felt his stiff cock harden now. "Such a pretty sleeve for Master's cock." He whispered under his breath, admiring her stretched open mouth.

Before her lust clouded mind could even decipher what was happening, Sehun had already pulled her over the bed, placing her face first against the mattress before hurriedly locking her hands in place against the headboard with handcuffs he had pulled out of his pockets, lips brushing the shell of the girl's ear as his breath fanned her skin.

"They are taught a lesson they will remember for a lifetime."

A shiver ran down her spine as she shuddered, crying even harder and loving the intensity of it all. He could be so sweet and kind but also so cold and rough. So contrasting but so good.

"Hnnngg~" she couldn't help but grind her ass against his abdomen as the man was hurriedly stripping himself of his clothes, making him chuckle as he slapped her mildly bruised ass, causing the smaller body to jump in defense.

"You sure you don't want this?" Pumping his cock, Sehun grinned as he rubbed his length before Y/n's ass cheeks, landing a slap on one before squeezing it hard and pulling at it, pushing it away from the other one. "Because it looks like you do~" a surrendered nod came from the girl, causing him to chuckle.

It was no news that the girl wasn't much of a fighter against him, always melting into her Master's control.

But now was the time of the promised surprise Sehun had told her of. The twist.

Fishing the bottle of lube out of the pocket of his discarded jacket, the male easily opened it with one hand and squeezed it hard, aiming for the tiny little fairly unused hole that would always have her thrash and whine if touched.

And it always made Sehun go for it even more.

A loud muffled whine erupted from the girl as realisation dawned upon her. Fuck. He was about to give her some good old anal that always had her penguin walking for days.

Oh no!

Y/n wanted- needed stimulation in her aching pussy and she needed it now!

Sehun, on the other hand was enjoying the now genuine struggle, humming to himself a devilishly sweet tone whilst dripping thick drops of the liquid on his cock now, the thick tip already pushing against the tiny hole now.

Readying it for the deal was one thing, but forcing it to open as it desperately tried to reject his cock and push it out was on a whole different level.

"It never manages to amuse me how you think fucktoys like you have a choice against-" biting his lip, Sehun enjoyed the feeling of her warm and tight ring of muscles encased his fat tip, hands carelessly discarding the almost empty lube. "-their… fuck-" The male grunted as he struggled to fit his impressively huge cock up her tiny ass, both hands squeezing her bruising ass before separating the cheeks to help it open up, hips slowly pushing deeper and deeper as Y/n's mouth formed an 'O', fresh tears escaping her eyes as her whole felt as though it were on fire.

But hell…

It burnt so good.

He always made it hurt so good.

"... against their Masters" Sehun was panting by the time he was able to finish his sentence, halting midway before pulling outwards to drill the entry a bit wider before moving his whole cock in, the upper half of Y/n's body going limp against the bed as she whimpered and moaned to the pain, the lower half raised in the air as it was being thoroughly invaded.

"Fuck! Such a tight little dog!" The male grunted as he felt his hips slowly easing up because of the ring of muscles slowly getting used to his cock, not many loud sounds coming from the girl.

"Come here!" Grabbing her neck, Sehun made her sit up straighter on her knees, causing her ass to slide back on his cock as she whined loudly, drool dripping down her chin as her eyes rolled to the back of her head, making Sehun thrust harder as he watched her from the mirror he had installed right above the headboard to watch her in such positions, other hand squeezing and pinching her sensitive and hard nipples.

"Look at yourself, little pup. Look up!" Pulling at her hair from behind until she was looking at him through the mirror with her lust clouded and tear filled eyes, Sehun sped up mercilessly faster, trying to fit his big balls in the hole too. "This is what you are, just a pathetic little cocksock. This is what delusional little fucktoys like yourself-" slapping one of her cheeks he humiliating pushed her nose back, making her blush even harder in embarrassment.

"-get for thinking they can whine about things. Tch. You should be grateful for whatever I give you. Such a bratty pet I have." Her eyebrows were furrowed in pain and concentration as she felt her tits fly back and forth humiliatingly fast due to the powerful thrysts, this sight alone enough to make her cum.

This mirror was such an embarrassment.

Sehun's body draped over Y/n's back as he chased his orgasm, placing his lips against her neck after pushing her hair out of the way, kissing and licking at the skin before sucking at it, one hand choking it and cutting her air supply as the other one trailed down south.

"Tell me when you're close by nodding." Was a much gentle and soft sound as compared to the loud sound of flesh slapping against flesh as his fingers creeped down and between the girl's wet and squishy pussy lips, making her close close in sweet pleasure.

Oh, good heavens. Finally.

What the poor girl found out soon after was that whenever she'd near her orgasm and nod hazily to let him know, Sehun would devilishly grin in the mirror and stop right away, waiting until the build up was gone before starting the torture all over again, an expert at holding back his own.

Why? Just because he simply could.

It was only a good while after that he painted her walls white with his seed and allowed her to cum, removing the torn underwear from her mouth to have relieved sobs tumble out as the girl collapsed against the bed, going limp as the male slowly eased her out of her restraints, gently rubbing them with the pads of his thumbs while whispering sweet nothings in her ear.

.

[bluecookies02]

Dabi x Reader- cûm soaked silk

Summary: You're the league's relatively new addition, during a fight Dabi saves you, immediately catching your attention and clouding your mind. Eventually after a row of success the league organizes a party and Dabi comes over so the two of you can prepare.

Warnings: cum play, creampies ,throatfucking, light alcohol consumption, pinning, panties theft.

/masterlist/

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Here you are once again waking up at 2 in the afternoon. With a quick stretch and desperate grasp for consciousness, you feel the familiar pain of a long night spent gathering supplies and fighting the trash that calls themselves heroes.

Thankfully, it was a night full of victories for the LOV so the pride you feel is stronger than the strain on your tired body. In everything you remember from last night, one moment sticks out so clear that you can't help but blush and let a smile escape the corner of your lips.

"A little danger looks good on you."

That was the most Dabi had said to you since you joined the League. A small-time hero aimed their quirk at you and your heavily scarred teammate was quick to throw you against the nearest wall, his body covering yours. There was nothing but anger in your heart and a lust for blood painted on your face until your eyes met his stunning blues.

All it took was those few words from his all too calm voice and that lazy, lustful look from his heavy-lidded eyes...you were hooked. With a final stretch, you tried to shake him from your mind.

Freshly showered and with coffee in hand, you grabbed your phone off of the nightstand. You skimmed your missed messages to get an idea of the day ahead of you. Nothing unusual. Some blood-soaked selfies from Toga, early morning ramblings from Twice, a short but thoughtful message from Kurogiri thanking you for your efforts last night, and a lackluster message from your boss inviting you to attend a gathering at the LOV hideout for a few drinks and to officially welcome you into the fold.

Well, at least you had something besides a mission to look forward to. You'd been wound so tight for months doing everything you could to help the league and uphold Stain's ideals. You needed tonight. Besides, he might be there. Before you had the chance to shame yourself for letting him back into your thoughts, your phone rang. An unknown number.

You got out a sleepy, half-hearted, "Hello," before you heard it. That honey-coated voice that caused a chill to run the length of your spine before his warmth washed over you.

"I see our crusty leader is throwing you a party. That's quite a surprise. So when are we going?"

Like always, he was so matter of fact. So sure of himself and set in his intentions. As much as his words made you want to melt into the floor, he said a little danger looked good on you, right? Fine. Then you would live dangerously.

You caught your breath before meeting his cool tone with your own subtlely beckoning statement. "Why don't you come over and we'll discuss it over a drink? If you've got my number, I'm sure getting my address should be just as easy for you." He let out a chuckle, wicked and low.

"See you in an hour dollface."

With that, you both hung up. Your heart was going to implode. What had you gotten yourself into? You bit your lip and smiled. It took no time for you to pick out the perfect outfit. No worn-out villain clothes tonight. No. This called for something exceptional.

A little black dress, some thigh high stockings, and the perfect lace lined lingerie would get you more than just a passing glance from the stapled stud you had set your sights on. As you laid the outfit neatly on the edge of your bed, it hit you. "Shit." Your alcohol-fueled stress relief had left your house completely dry. Whatever.

Fashionably late with a bottle in hand seemed better than facing this man without a little liquid courage. A quick text and you were out the door. "Heading out for a bit. Give me 30. Let yourself in and get comfortable."

Getting your address was simple. He was a man on a mission and after last night, he had a hunger. Saving you was the first thing on his mind during yesterday's battle. You were reckless and he could relate to you. A woman with convictions was his weakness. In a world full of fake meaning, your passion was as fiery as his quirk and he wanted more. Needed more of you.

The thoughts that crossed his mind after pinning you to that wall were less than noble. He wanted to feel you, to sink his teeth into your soft flesh. God he hoped you were a fighter behind closed doors too. Maybe he could overpower you.

He wondered if you knew how much you had him worked up and if you were just as desperate for a release as he was. Before he knew it, he was at your front door. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

"Get comfortable? Alright, doll. Let's see what you're all about."

He was surprised upon entering your apartment.

"Pretty classy place for such a reckless fighter. What are you hiding in here, little miss?"

He was eager to get to know you better. He couldn't simply flop onto the couch and kick his feet up. He knew you were more than a simple yet dedicated member of the league. You had dirty little secrets somewhere and he was out to find them. A few unlabeled pill bottles in the bathroom, empty champagne bottles in the kitchen...nothing too out of the normal considering your line of work.

When he finally made his way into your room, it was as well put together as the rest of your flat. He sifted through your nightstands and found...nothing. He let out a little sigh of defeat and sat next to a small pile of clothes on the bed. Running his hands under your pillows in a last ditch effort, he finally found something.

"So you are a naughty girl. You don't disappoint after all."

His wicked smirk was a sight to see as he held your toy in his hand. He had seen these before in a questionable marketplace. So he knew two things for sure; you had taste and he wanted you even more now. He'll make you forget you even own that little toy.

He was praying that this was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to your kinks. He made a mental note and tucked the vibrator back under your pillow.

He moved his attention to the outfit you had delicately placed across the mattress. If that was what you were planning to wear tonight then you knew exactly what you were doing to him. He could imagine the way that tiny dress would hug your curves and tease him with glimpses of all the places of your body he wanted to devour.

The fishnets were a filthy addition and he might let you keep those on while he had his way with you someday. His thoughts continued to spiral and he could feel his growing erection pressing uncomfortably against his jeans.

That's when he saw them. There they were. Those perfect, lacey little panties. His hunger for you hit primal levels as he grabbed your panties off the bed and tugged at the hem with his teeth. His free hand was already rubbing his aching cock through his pants as he imagined sliding those panties over and letting himself inside you.

Oh, the sweet moans you would make. How would his name sound when it rolled off your tongue as you begged for him to wreck you? He knew you wouldn't be back for another 20 minutes and he couldn't hold out any longer.

He made quick work of laying back on your bed and freeing his now rock hard cock from its clothed cage. He grabbed the black silk panties and wrapped them firmly around his base as he began pumping and stroking.

He bit his lower lip at the electric feeling taking him over. He was a man possessed and he would get his release by any means necessary. The veins along his shaft were throbbing as he thought of you all dolled up and desperate for him. He wanted to know how you would look on your knees ready and waiting for him. He could almost feel your hips gripped tightly in his hands as he imagined ruthlessly hammering every inch into you. His deviant thoughts and the feeling of your panties sliding sweetly along his length was an intoxicating combination. His other hand reached for his heavy balls, massaging them, trying his best to spoil himself for the remaining time he had.

All it took was the thought of your pussy gripping and welcoming him inside you with that black lace causing the perfect amount of friction between your swollen lips, clinging desperately for that pathetic amount of friction-... He couldn't help himself. Thick, hot ropes of cum were coating the cotton lining of your panties, his release overflowing and pulling all the way to the base of his cock.

He milked out the last few drops and watched as they soaked into the thin fabric.

Well, this would either get him kicked out of your flat or he would get the confirmation he needed that this overwhelming lust was mutual. All he knew was that he needed a drink.

With perfect timing, you returned home with a bottle in each hand just as he had placed the underwear back onto the bed and got himself situated on the couch as though nothing had happened.

Your heart almost skipped a beat. You assumed he would show up so that was no surprise. What you hadn't planned for was just how good he would look; the track lighting of your apartment showcasing him like a work of art. He looked so comfortable, so natural sprawled out on your furniture. Like he had always belonged there. This was your home but his presence filled the place. Fuck, what you would give for him to fill you instead. Before you could fall even deeper down that rabbit hole of attraction, he greeted you as only he would.

"So are you gonna pour us a drink or are those just for show?"

You felt the heat rise in your face and you could only imagine the color of your cheeks as he let his eyes work their way from the whiskey in your hands to the rest of your body. "Sure thing. Gimme a sec. And I said to get comfortable, not scuff up my table with your big dirty boots, ass." His little laugh was warm and kind despite your attitude. A few drinks, some light conversation, a couple of shared nervous laughs and glances...before you knew it, it was getting late. A nice buzz enveloped you as you excused yourself.

"Not so fast, doll. Where do you think you're going?"

The look in his eyes made you weak. You couldn't tell if it was the slow burn of the whiskey or the equally smoldering quality in his tone that made you blush. "Sorry, blue eyes. I gotta go get ready. You don't want me missing my own welcome party, do you? Behave while I go get dressed," you giggled. That laugh, innocent and a clear give away to your inebriation, was enough to cause his desire to come bubbling over.

He was one sip of whiskey past the point of being calm and he needed you. He quickly made his way behind you, grabbing your hips and leaning in to whisper in your ear...

"You should know by now, behaving is not something I do, hopefully, you can behave like a pretty little thing you are. Now let's get into that cute little room of yours and you're going to get changed. Slip out of those clothes and give me a nice show."

With those words, he gave your neck a few light kisses making sure to let his lips trail your skin before pushing you lightly towards the room. You were a warm mix of goosebumps and giggles. You were going to give this man anything he asked for, do everything that left his mouth before even finishing his sentences.

This was happening and you wondered why it hadn't happened sooner. The look in his eyes was ravenous and you were ready and willing to let him feast. The second you both made your way into the bedroom, your body was against the wall; his own body covering yours once more. This time, however, there was no battle, no rush, and the only dangerous thing in the room was the man staring you down with lust in his eyes and whiskey on his tongue.

You began unbuttoning your blouse and it was as if he couldn't pepper your skin with kisses fast enough. His lips worked every inch that was exposed as you tilted your head back and practically ripped your shirt the rest of the way off. The blouse fell behind you as Dabi's teeth lightly grazed your neck.

His left hand made its way up to the clasp on the front of your bra. He looked down unhooking it with ease as your breath hitched in your lungs. He let his lips and tongue playfully work down from your neck to your now exposed breasts. His bottom lip was about to glide over your nipple when he suddenly stopped and looked at you with that wicked half-smile.

He grabbed your chin and pulled you in for a passionate kiss. His original intention was to make it quick but the two of you were swept away in the burning taste of cheap whiskey and overwhelming desire. His arms wrapped around your waist as your hands softly glided through his hair and over his scarred cheek.

With a final soft bite to your bottom lip, he pulled away. "Is everything okay?" The aura about him had changed to something far more dominant and primal.

"I said put on a show, babe. So let's see it."

He sat back on the bed as he looked over your figure. You couldn't tell if his stare was more anticipatory or predatory but either way, you were soaked and dying for his skin against yours. You turned around and looked back at him with a dark and coy smirk before facing away.

You slid your hands down your body until they made their way to the zipper on the back of your skirt. As the small metal tab fell, Dabi bit his lip and felt something else rise up. You placed your hands on the wall above your head and spread your legs lightly.

You gave your hips a little shake and the skirt fell to the floor. Turning around to face him, you ran your thumbs across your hips and into the waistband of your panties. You teasingly lowered them barely an inch. His eyes lit up. That's when you snapped the band and let the panties back up. Slinking towards him, you placed yourself between his legs with your arms around his neck. "I think you should take these off...Don't want to have all the fun to myself."

"I thought you'd never ask, babe. But you'd look better in these. Why don't we change things up a bit?"

With that, he picked up the little black panties from the outfit laid out on your bed. You blushed. Now you were wondering what else he had seen. As you took them from his hand, you noticed something felt off about them. Your fingers slid across the slick and sticky substance that was still warm. Suddenly it hit you and felt your own temperature rise. "Dabi did you..."

"I said...put them on....go on."

His voice was deceptively calm but inside he was on a one-way track and there was no stopping him tonight. His cock was literally aching to be inside and the thrill of seeing you slide those panties on, getting you nice and coated with his cum before he had even entered you; It drove him right over the edge.You shyly slipped off your panties and began to put the others on. You stopped with them about halfway up. "Babe, I dunno. Is this really...."

"Looks like you need a little help."

Before you could blink, he had come right up to you and pulled the cum soaked panties the rest of the way up. You barely had time to catch your breath and enjoy the feeling of his lips so close to you when he began to run his fingers over your clothed slit and press his still warm fluids closer inside you. When he heard a small moan escape your lips and felt the silk against his fingers go from dampened by his own doing to soaked with your juices, he knew he had you.

He let his fingers slide past the fabric and past your folds trailing his sticky cum along them. He dipped two fingers into your cunt, pushing his cum into you, picking up the gushing out liquid each time it dared to drip out of you.

With just two minutes of that, he was throbbing and you were crying out, begging to feel him inside you, begging to get a fresh coat of cum in your greedy pussy.

"All fours, on the bed...Now."

With a firm slap to your ass, you did just as you were told. Only, he didn't get behind you like you were expecting. No. After quickly undressing himself, he stood before you hard and ready. Your jaw dropped and you were about to tell him how bad you needed it but he grabbed your chin and forced you to look him in the eyes.

"You're gonna be a good girl and get me nice and wet before I let you feel this cock filling you up and stretching that pretty pink pussy of yours. Do you understand?''

You nodded as he moved his hand to the back of your head and the other to the base of his cock. He guided you forward and you let your tongue gingerly trace the veins of his shaft before wrapping your lips around. With every pulse of his hips, you would play with his tip and graze it with your soft tongue before taking him all the way into the back of your throat.

He closed his eyes and let his head fall back. A few expletives left his lips as you let out soft moans and began to drool, his length becoming a bit too much to handle. Your mouth became a sloppy mess, his cock twitching each time your throat tightened around him. He could feel himself getting warmer and dizzier, the sight of you splattering around his length, your eyes watery and your hands struggling to keep you up made it unbearable for him to hold for much longer.

You can feel the mess dripping onto the sheets as you rub your thighs together.

He slides out of your mouth with a small pop and runs his thumb across your lips glistening with spit. The look you gave each other said enough as you arched your back and he made his way behind you.

His earlier fantasy was becoming a reality as he put one hand firmly on your hip and used the other to slide his tip up and down your warm and aching lips. He let go of both just long enough to grip the sides of your panties and burn them clean off. He yanked away the remaining fabric and lined himself up with your quivering entrance.

"Is this what you want, gorgeous? Hm? Do you need it?"

"Yes! Please Dabi! Fuck! I need it.C'mon.Please." And with your final desperate cries...he did just that. His every inch slid into you just right. His cock twitched as soon as he bottomed out, his hips jerking into you out of instinct.

He was the only man you knew who could pound your pussy so ruthlessly while his hands still explored your body so sweetly. it was intoxicating, addictive. You needed more. You needed him. Despite him holding your hips down, you managed to sway your hips just right, meeting his thrusts one by one.

He watched you gasp and loose balance, dropping on your forearms as you buried your head into the cushion. He admired the way your pussy took him so well, his cock disappearing all the way in and then coming back out. He was hazed, forgetting how much time passed as he plowed in and out of you, the intoxicating rhythm putting a strain on his muscles as he couldn't have it in him to slow down.

You were a teary mess, whines and cries coming from your sore throat as you begged for him to make you cum.

With another hard slap across your ass and more praise for the way you took him so well...that was it. You couldn't take it anymore. He was pounding that spongey spot just right and his hands were sending shivers through you. You couldn't hold back anymore and he could tell. You were clenching down on him as he continued to slide in and out. He grabbed you by the waist, towering over your back as he held your body flush to his.

His pace deep and more meaningful, his cock dragging along your velvety walls that were squeezing him of every drop he had left. The feeling of him throbbing as his warm cum painted your insides white threw you over the edge, your legs shaking as he continued with small ruts into your shivering cunt.

You were breathless, smiling, and spent. To your surprise, so was he. His blue eyes half lidded and his breathing ragged.

He carefully slid out of you and you both fell back into the mattress. After taking a moment to appreciate his sweat sheened body you sheepily asked, "Soooo...about the party...?"

"Yeah, yeah. It was great, wasn't it? Now shut up and come here," he said teasingly, welcoming you into his arms.

You're not sure when you fell asleep with your head on his chest or how you ended up with this man in your bed but you were happy to sleep in that day, your body already hooked on the warmth of his embrace, begging for it to not be just for this one night.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

So that was a wild ride, the backstory about this one is kinda long but i'll keep it as short as possible.

One day this lady jumped into my dm's (a few moths ago) requesting a Dabi x Reader x Overhaul fic.

Hovewer I didn't exactly get to it yet, but we continued talking throughout the months, her mentioning how she would love to start writing but was too scared of messing something up.

So we came up with a rough idea about dabi jerking off in the reader's panties and it went uphill from there!! Drafts and drafts, massages and thirsts we collabed on this and ended up with this little 4k word thing. So taking all of this into consideration, if you liked this spicy fic go give a follow to @issamomma the mentioned lady and a wonderful woman and now my dear friend.

Like,comment and reblog with ideas you might want the two us to collab on again. Hope you loved it and enjoyed it as much as we enjoyed writing it.

___________

requests:closed

commissions:open

Ko-Fi | Patreon 

[alreadyblondenow]

Black on black | Lucas Wong

▸ Lucas x reader ▸ Smut, Sprinkle of angst, devil au ▸ HALLOWEEN SERIES: 127 HOUSE ▸ 3/5 for NEOHALLOWEEN writing festival hosted by @nct-writers

Summary: We’ve read different stories about humans summoning demons to ask them for a favor but what happens if, the devil himself summons humans so he can have his own fun? The devil himself strikes a deal with a sinner to save her from the trouble she singlehandedly caused in exchange for her to accept the torture that the devil has planned for her. In bed. But an unexpected turn of events happened that even the devil himself did not see it coming.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Rough sex, bleeding while sex, choking, swearing, mentions of alcohol, blood play?, bleeding, unprotected sex, mentions of blackmail, filth, straight up filth, fingering, it’s the devil so its rough sex click away if you’re not into that, mentions of depression

A/N: PURE FILTH. I made this as a breather from the two fics before this hehe. Pure fiction and inspired by some movies of course. Don’t expect that this is good like the two fics before this hehehehhehe I just wanted to write for Lucas, finally. 

Taglist: Again, I hope I didn’t miss anyone, if yes please do message me so I can apologize huhu @huangxx @fruityutas @floweringtheflowers​

Growing up, we’ve read different stories about humans summoning demons to ask them for a favor but what happens if, the devil himself summons humans so he can have his own fun? Execute his own way of torturing humans even if they’re still alive and breathing here on Earth?

Lucas, the devil himself. Comes to play in our world during Devil’s Night, his night. It’s like a birthday party for him but nobody knows who he is just how he likes it. He made this huge party for his own pleasure, looking at the humans wearing different costumes, reading their faces, and waiting for a perfect timing. He is specifically looking for someone he can ruin for a good laugh. Someone whom he can ruin in the sheets but also ruin her spirits, her point of view in life, her way of thinking.

The house your friend brought you in was loud and blaring for Halloween night. It was a house and not a club, but the party was so wild that it looked like a club from the outside. Everyone is dressed perfectly for Halloween and tonight, you dressed how you feel. Black wings, black dress, black everything. Perfect for mourning your innocence, purity, and dignity.  

You plan on drinking and pouring all your sorrows at the dance floor, flirt a little if life permits, and maybe go home with a random stranger and have a one night stand. It was a desperate call, you just want to forget your stupidity, feel numb, and be distracted. Fuck morality you said to yourself.

“Did you eat before we get here? You already look fucking wasted” your friend asked, shouting at you so you can hear her.

“No. But I’m fine” you answer her after downing a tequila shot. You feel tired already from too much dancing, mingling with strangers but no one is interesting enough. Little did you know, someone is very interested in you.

He can smell your pain, your struggles, and your desperate call. Your sin is fresh for him and you’re in need of torture, he has a great feeling that he will enjoy this night. The thought of it makes Lucas blush and feel excited for the cherry on top of this night. He was smiling darkly on his little corner, watching your every move, entertained on how you down your alcohols with so much desperation to feel numb.

You drown yourself in the sea of people, dance with strangers who reeks of alcohol, feeling and letting the alcohol get into your system. Everything was blurry. The party lights change every second following the beat of the music. You watch the surroundings turn colored to black, colored to black, colored to black.

“Oh” until someone handsome startled you and appeared in front of you out of nowhere. Looking into his eyes made everything slow, maybe it’s just the alcohol or simply because he’s just handsome and dreamy.

“I think you’re the one for me” shameless. Bold. Just like that, he has you wrapped around his finger.

“Do I know you?” you tried stopping your smile and with your best effort, you put on a serious face. But he can see right through you.

He smirked and came closer, smelling your perfume, and shamelessly bit your left ear. “No. But I know what you did yesterday” you pushed him away but the man was strong and enticing. He held you close to him, holding you on your waist as your eyes are finally captured by his. “I know what you did to get your promotion, such a bad girl you are” you feel his hand slide under your dress, caressing the softness of your skin.

“Tell me the truth, does it feel good to blackmail your boss by forcing him to have sex with you and secretly make a sex tape? Scaring him that you will show it to his wife and his three daughters?” he chuckled darkly while he enjoys watching you get scared.

“Fuck you! I deserve this promotion-“ you croaked, feeling your tears run down your cheeks. But you won’t let this man get inside your head and tried to put up a fight, showed him you’re not scared. Lucas became even more entertained when he saw you cry and fake your bravery.

He didn’t expect you to be quite a fighter and a little fierce, but he loves a good challenge. And you’re definitely it. “Of course you do, but I’m not here to expose you. I want to give you a deal. I will make this all go away, but receive the torture that I have planned for you tonight” his voice became even more inviting and to be completely honest you’re open to accept anything and desperate to make it all go away. What you did was something you want to forget, you’re not a bad person just a very desperate one.

“Who are you? How can you make this all go away, I don’t want anyone to get hurt” He played with the strap of your bra that fell off your shoulder, running his thumb on your clothed nipple. By this time you feel so nervous because you have no idea what this man can do to you.

“I’m the devil and you’re in big trouble clever girl”

You saw it in your own eyes. Under the flicking lights. His face became scaly, the horns on his head look too good to be fake, red dark eyes that hold terror, teeth sharp and dirty as he laughs at you. Then suddenly returned to his handsome form, the one you can stomach to look at.

“F-fine, I’ll do everything you want. Since you’re not giving me any choice here but after this deal, I never want to see you again” you looked at him with scared eyes but still, you stood in front of him with the right amount of bravery.

“You’re not in the position to ask for something. Just enjoy this privilege” the way he kisses your cheek so softly disgusts you after seeing his true form.

For you, you only agreed to do this because the night can come and go. The sun will soon rise and you will be given another day to start over and forget about this night. Just like any other one night stand, you just have to make the sex count, enjoy yourself, and then forget about everything. What can possibly go wrong? You were looking forward to a good fuck tonight anyway.

‘Receive the torture that I have planned for you tonight’ those words linger in your mind like a promise that you’re waiting for him to fulfill. It irritates you how he’s just devouring you while you sit comfortably on his lap by the edge of his massive bed. His dress shirt is only half unbuttoned and you don’t know why you’re itching to get him naked already. So with all your confidence, you unbutton his shirt fully and expose his perfect body.

It made you speechless. Tan skin, perfect chest, abs hard as a rock. It amuses him how you’re completely enchanted by his body. “Remove your clothes, leave your panties” you do as you’re told, removing your own clothes while you kept your eyes lock on the man in front of you. “Perfect” he whispered, brushing his fingers on your now exposed nipples. Soft and slow, making it sensitive, making you whine and turn your head around as you roll your hips slowly on his clothed cock. He is big you’re sure of it.

He puts his thumb on your clothed clit, touching you with the utmost care, taking his time with you, and returning his lips on your neck. “Wheres that torture you were talking about?” you whine out your concern, still waiting for that promise.

“Shut up” is all he said. But it wasn’t stern. It was in an airy tone in between kissing your neck and your boobs, he almost sounded weak but that’s impossible.

He roughly put you in bed, ruined your panties in one go, and spread your legs like you’re just nothing. It was quite a rush and it happened so fast. You don’t know when did he remove his pants and underwear but he is now devouring the valley between your boobs, kissing it softly while his hand caresses your legs like he owns you.

Did it sink in already to you? That you’re now naked in bed and about to have sex with the devil?

His hard cock brushes on the insides of your thighs, feeling how big it is and already doubting if it could fit inside you. “It will” he whispers, ah, he can read your mind. Great. “fuck me already” you spoke to him in your mind, which made him smile.

“How many times do I have to tell you, you’re not in the position to ask for something” he bit your lower lip and made you bleed. He licks the blood and licked your lips. How surprising, you like what he’s doing so you wrapped your arms around him and did the same thing to him.

You bit his lips. Let it bleed and lick his lips right in front of his eyes.

Lo and behold. This is the first time a human surprised him with such boldness. As much as it hurts his pride being continuously challenged, he still wants to see your face when he finally ruins you. But it seems like your touch is ruining him, the way your hands roam around his back is addicting for him. How can this be? “Don’t touch me” he said, but this time it wasn’t soft. He sounded angry and frustrated. But you didn’t stop and continue touching him, irritating him more with your touch forcing him to kiss you.

“I said don’t touch me” he repeats and you feel his skin getting warmer like a kettle on the stove.

“No. Let me touch you, that way you can enjoy more”

It’s not that you already found out that your touch affects him. He is naturally enticing, luring, and handsome. There’s no way you will let this moment pass without having your own fun. A handsome man is on top of you, perfect kissable thin lips, beautiful body with perfectly tanned skin, you don’t care anymore if his eyes turned red and dark.

Lucas on the other hand has never seen anyone look at him with full admiration. How you swirl your finger around his nipples, and kiss him with all the lust you have surprised him. He didn’t expect this kind of pleasure, he felt like a king.  

Desperate people can do horrible things like sleeping with the devil. “Are we going to fuck or are we just going to admire each other for the whole night?” you asked him and he was challenged. He lifts your hips and rests it on his thigh, dragging you completely on the mattress as he spread your legs even wider than before. “I’m completely aware that you’re not a virgin anymore… but tonight I’m gonna make you bleed. I will hurt you and you” there was his scary tone again that sends a shiver in your spine and widen your eyes.

“Hmm?” the answer to your question was answered by one swift move.

Lucas rammed his cock in your tight walls, not giving a fuck if it hurts you. “Shit!” you covered your mouth and breathed deeply as you feel Lucas pulling out completely and ramming his cock again inside you.

It hurt. But just like the first time you had sex, the pain was gone after a few hard thrusts.

He did make you feel like a virgin again and that completely blows your mind. How? As expected, it was a good fuck. Better than anything you’ve had and you’re happy you gave in. So happy that you were smiling while hurting, moaning a string of curses while his fingers dig on your skin.

He pulled out his cock and ran a finger on your slit. The bold move made you whine and you feel your bud so sensitive. He showed you his middle finger with your blood on it, smirked, and licked his finger clean with a devilish smile. He went back to fucking you real hard your head bumps on his headboard. The way he was fucking you was like he haven't had sex for a year.

He cums inside you and started to roll his hips slowly. “I need to rest. Go slow” again, your body is answering to him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, he’s giving in from your touch.

“Did your boss made you bleed this good when he was fucking you on his table yesterday?” he asks while still rolling his hips oh so slowly and showering your neck with kisses. He wasn’t tired at all even though he’s grunting and breathing heavily. You feel his soft touches again around your chest, tracing your collar bone but when his hand reaches your neck, he suddenly chokes you and thrust quickly putting you on edge again.

“Harder,” you said, struggling but it pleasures you. You are truly the perfect one for him he thought. As he went harder, choking you until you reach your high again, you watch him smile in satisfaction kissing you while choking and fucking you hard amuses him to the core.  

Oh, how he loved the sex! After cumming inside you, he finally let go of your neck, letting you cough and catch your breath. Your body feels weak and tired, he definitely worn you out but he seems ready to go for another round, so this time you beg. “Please. Rest”

He chuckled and continued kissing your body, devouring your lips, making your nipples swollen. You noticed he’s making you touch him now, he seems to be addicted to your touch at this point. He can’t stop holding your hand, intertwine it with his, and whenever you pull your hand away just to teas him he grips it hard and wrap your arms around his neck.

Still body to body and his cock inside you, Lucas was asking for another round but you refuse. He might be the devil but consent is still important. You refuse and refuse until he gets tired of asking. “Okay. I give up. But that was-“

“Great? Awesome? Admit it you’re already looking forward to seeing me again” you were still struggling to talk from too much choking, the feeling of his big hands around your neck still lingers on your skin.

“Come to Hell with me. You’re the best I’ve had so far- I can make you rich, I’ll give everything you want” he reaches for your hand and placed a soft kiss at the back of it.

“Did you forget that I agreed to this because I have a perfect life here? Don’t forget your part of the bargain, hmm?” it completely surprised him how you easily refused his offer and still embraced your life here. After everything that happened in his bed, he still can’t believe you don’t want to stay with him.

When you got up to clean his cum dripping from your legs and prepare yourself to come home, he stopped you from leaving his room. Kissed you more and for the first time in his entire existence, he begged. “I’m not going to say it again, it hurts my pride. Stay with me”

“Do you love me? After we fucked like that? You suddenly love me?”

“I don’t love you”

“Then I don’t have any reason to stay and come with you” you kissed him one last time like what you always do to every man you slept with.

He felt betrayed, frustrated, and annoyed.

After having sex with him, you left his house limping and sore but quite glowing because of the amazing sex. It was fun while it lasted, but all good things come to an end.

Lucas did make it all go away. He gave you a clean spot for the promotions, deleted your boss’s memories about you blackmailing him, and he deleted the only evidence of what you did beforehand. It was like magic for you and you got all these for free by just having sex with him. What a win-win situation. Your life became perfect as it can be after that night in 127 House. No one can take this all away from you. Or so you thought.

He built your career in just one snap of his finger, the same goes for how he ruined your life. Just because you hurt his pride and refused his offer. After a few months, he released the video to the police and got you arrested. Laughing on the side as he watches you get your hands cuffed. Listening to your cries in jail, it’s like a lullaby for him. But that’s not where his torture ends, he even ruined your mental health. Made you depressed while you were doing time, made your family turn their backs against you. Not even one visit for a year.

That’s why you quickly jumped in bed when finally someone remembered you. Even just one visit from your family can lift your spirits.

But he wasn’t family.

“You did all this!” without hesitation you shouted at him, showing your anger from your side of the room. But he was just sitting there, watching you cry and shout. Smirking.

“Shut up. I’m here to offer something” there he is again with his twisted deals, “Come down there with me. I have a contract here, just to make everything professional and tidy. Sign it. Or you will suffer more”

He was sitting cooly in front of you, like a rich man buying a piece of a very expensive jewelry. One of the guards un-cuffed you and handed you a pen and the contract that will make everything go away. Is being with him for all eternity better than jail? Will he finally keep his word this time? What if one day he found another woman who can offer the same things?  

“You said you don’t love me”

“I lied. I don’t know what love means but if it's close to obsession, then I’m obsessed with you.”

“Why can't you leave me alone?”

He chuckled darkly and leaned closer to the glass that’s keeping you away from each other. “You’re in love with danger and all things dark that's why I can't let go of you. You are, truly the one for me” You turned silent and he just watched you cry in front of the contract, gripping your pen and confused as fuck. He was running out of patience.  

“Are you going to sign that or I will make you?”

For the last time, you read the contract and read the words ‘forever’ over and over again and looked at Lucas before you sign it. Forever with this man? you signed it with a heavy heart and smashed the pen on the table and cry some more.

“Lastly,” he stood up from his seat, buttoning his coat and fixing his sleeve. “Say that you love me” he smirked again in front of you, giving you no choice.

“I love you”

He looked deep in your eyes for some time, smelling your fear through the glass. And with one snap, the glass was gone. It didn’t surprise you this time, you’re well aware of what he’s capable of. In the first place, he ruined your life.

He snapped his fingers again, but this time you’re surprised. “Did you know that after you cleaned my dripping cum from your legs that night you come to bed with me and we had sex again- oh! It was better than the first and second round!”

Flashbacks in your head were playing, as you remember how he lured you in bed that night again. The way you removed your dress in front of him again was so clear this time, he was smiling and you were enjoying his touch. You closed your eyes and the next memory that played in your head was how he put your hands above your head, fingers intertwined with his and the feeling of your fingers gripping tightly still ghosts your hands until now.

“It was all an illusion Y/n. You never left 127 House, I just made you believe that you’re in jail. If you thought that it was already a year, well, it’s only been three days”  

[lucifers-favorite-pen]

How The Obey Me Brothers Would Do in a “The Forest” AU

Fandom: Obey me

Pairings: None

Warnings: Swearing, idiocy, mild gore

The Forest was just released for the new Oculus headset, and Levi could NOT pass up this opportunity. However, it’s just his luck he got his hands on a cursed copy of the game, and ended up sucking the House of Lamentation into the game! Here’s how our favorite boys faired in the universe of “The Forest”

Lucifer:

Is pissed.

Bitches about it heavily

Is irritated that he has to find and wrangle a digital son now as well as his siblings. 

Would definitely help everyone else build a little shelter before nightfall, but would be grumbling about how much work he has to do at home and how far behind this would put him. 

Doesn’t let MC lift a finger and is 100% a mother hen the whole time. 

Seems inconvenienced by the whole cannibal thing, until he realizes magic doesn’t exist here and he has to use his melee fighting skills to kill them. Skills that are a little rusty...

Teams up with Beel to be the camp dads and take care of everyone

Super paranoid about the stability of the walls and the house at the beginning

Dies from eating a poisonous berry. He didn’t know he could be affected by poison in this game.

Over all, does his best to keep everyone alive, and feels really bad when someone dies. 

No longer feels bad when he learns that the worst thing that happens is you lose all your stuff and you respawn. 

A solid 7/10 job. Probably dies a few times due to someone else being an idiot, but is a pretty good survivalist when push comes to shove. 

Mammon:

Is also pissed

He was in the middle of counting the grimm from his latest modeling gig when he was sucked into the game.

Bitches and moans with/at Lucifer, but tries to build and maintain a shelter.

Who’s Timmy?

I don’t think crows exist in the game, but seagulls do and they all land on his fingers and he makes friends with them.

Is very upset when one of his brothers kills a bird for food or to simply carry around its head as a trophy. 

Sees cannibals and tries to trade with them with the grimm he has in his pockets.

Dies on sight.

Now when he sees or hears cannibals he screams and cowers behind MC 

When they go away or the screaming stops, he stands up straight and dusts off his jacket “Psh, I wasn’t afraid! I was trying to comfort you from behind! YOU were the one afraid”

After a while in the game, he gets his shit together and honestly kinda kills it. 

This is the avatar of greed, you know he is going to gather and horde so many valuable resources and then guard them with his life. 

“Mammon I’m hurt please stop hissing at me and let me have the medicine bottle”

*hiss* “You can have ONE pill and ONE pill only”

Over all, the definition of “They had us in the first half ngl”

8/10 for managing the group’s food and resource stores so well and only dying a fuck ton of times. 

Levi

...oops?

Feels quite guilty, but is also secretly pumped to immerse himself in the game.

Was extremely skilled at this game IRL and tries to explain how it works to everyone else, but they’re all so pissed and no one’s listening.

“That’s fine, who would want to listen to a yucky otaku like me anyway!” 

Magic doesn’t exist here, but that doesn’t stop Levi from yeeting himself into the ocean and turning into a giant sea monster while his brothers complete the game. 

They don’t want his help? They don’t want to know that the cannibals can’t swim and that they’ll be safer if they build a boat and live in a boathouse on the water? Fine. Then Perish <3

That goes for Timmy too, fuck that kid. 

Doesn’t want MC to suffer tho, so he’ll kill a few sharks and throw them up over the wall with his tail. (I’m assuming that if the game is released for Oculus Rift that they will get their shit together and also make sharks edible)

Is having a grand time taking over the ocean. 

Will sometimes go to shore to visit MC. Everyone is confused as to where he has been and how he is thriving. He just smiles and jumps back in the water.

10/10 strats. Never once dies. Tells everyone what they were doing wrong and how they could have had it easier when they beat the game and are back IRL out of spite.

Satan

Angy

Is throwing things in their spots while building the shelter, but is still helping

Spawns in with the book he was reading in his hand.

That book is eventually stolen from his grasp in the night and used as kindling for the fire.

Lucifer explains that if he didn’t steal his book they all would have died. 

Satan does not give a fuck

“Use the kid’s stupid fucking drawings you dipshit!”

“I can’t they’re story items!”

Goes on a rampage and kills so many deer, effectively feeding the group for a week.  

Sees the cannibals for the first time and thinks “same” 

Pretty good fighter and pretty resourceful when it comes to making armor and weapons. 

Outfits MC with the all of his prototypes and tells them to go run at a tree

“How do you feel, MC?”

“Like I ran at a tree with a deer skin on my chest”

“Interesting”

Very upset at the whole no magic thing, but will work with it.

Over all, 7/10 job. Dies a couple times from cannibals and the other monsters, but makes it to the end.

Asmo

Oh dear. 

Oh dear this sweet summer child. 

“Why are we looking for this child when he’s so ugly?”

Is distraught and so very upset this is happening to him. Cries variations of “woe is me” for the first five hours of game play

Does not help build a shelter

Does not help gather food and resources

Does not help period. Only whines. 

Sees cannibals sprinting and jumping towards the shelter and pushes Lucifer in front of him

“Take him! I’m too pretty to die!”

“HEY!”

What follows after the first three days is a slow decent into madness. 

Ends up butt ass naked for the majority of the game because the clothes he spawned in with were ripped to shreds and “No animal skin clothing in this world is good enough to adorn my perfect body”

Starts speaking to the animals and becomes friends with all of them like a Disney Princess. 

The animals come to his aid when he lets out a specific shriek that calls them to his side.

Spends his time weaving flower crowns for MC, his brothers, and his animal friends. 

Everyone knows he’s snapped when Beel brings back the dead body of a cannibal and Asmo dips his dirty little finger into an open wound and wipes the blood on his lips. 

“I just love this shade! Don’t you?” 

5/10 job. Dies multiple times from trying to befriend hostile animals, but also has an army of woodland creatures at his disposal by the end of the game.

Beel

Bro you know this mans is about to make this game his bitch

Spawns in with a cheeseburger.

Eats the cheeseburger.

“I have a son?”

“I HAVE A SON :D”

“Where is my son?”

Honestly the thought of Beel in this game is so sexy like I’m simping so hard rn 

Grab your water skins and buckle up bc it’s about to get thirsty up in here y’all

A shirt? Beel doesn’t know what those are anymore

He crafts one of those shoulder harnesses out of hide and bone and sticks a bone shiv thing on the forearm 

Don’t mess with this demon when his dinner and his family is on the line.

Is not afraid of anything except the death of his loved ones.

Cannibals? Nah, dinner.

Other monsters? Nah, dinner. 

Full shirtless lumberjack mode with Lucifer, and later Mammon, when cutting down trees in the forest. MC is drooling. 

Definitely makes a game out of how many trees they can all chop down before giving up.

Plays knuckle bones with Belphie and MC using real knuckle bones. 

Doesn’t want to share his food with the others but will if they didn’t get anything to eat that day. 

Chef Beel. That’s it that’s the post. 

10/10 job. Only dies once throwing his body over Belphie’s sleeping one to save him. 

Get’s annoyed when he finds out Belphie was fake sleeping

Very sexy. Would watch. 

Belphie

Nah dude no thanks 

Alexa play “Wake Me Up When September Ends”

Alexa play “Billie Jean”

“And the kid is not my son”

Get’s so fucking pissed when he finds out he can’t sleep without everyone else deciding to sleep too so he just lays down with his eyes closed and hopes for the best.

Doesn’t help with anything unless someone asks him to

Even then he’ll roll his eyes like brat and slowly do it

An actual sloth

No like he clings to MC and Beel like a sleepy sloth 100% of the time

He can’t find any cows and is sad so he settles for the local deer instead. 

Fake sleeps through most of the whole thing, paying monster and cannibals alike absolutely no mind. Beel will take care of it.

Freaks the fuck out when Beel dies on top of him and goes into a rage and kills everything in sight. 

Very sweet reunion when he realizes that they just respawn.

No longer pays death any mind and continues fake sleeping. 

0/10. Virtually useless. 

Masterpost

[annes-andromeda]

Ok I know you all are tired of hearing me talk about Gagnarok, but I just need to get this off my chest. A lot of people have talked about characters like Thor, Loki, and Jane being shit upon but like...can we talk about Bruce Banner?

Taika has specifically called Hulk a “...bipolar, angry green beast” and Bruce a “...boring, whinging, nerd”.

He also claims that Bruce has more dimensions in Gagnarok, which is ironic since Taika seems to hate anything and everything intellectual or emotional.

There is so much more to Bruce and Hulk than what the writers make them out to be. First of all, it should not-and I repeat, NOT-be this difficult to make Bruce Banner interesting.

Bruce had to see his abusive father kill his mother before his very eyes, resulting in some serious trauma. That already is something that could’ve and should’ve been explored. Especially in a movie where the whole plot is finding out about a father’s mistakes and how his son has to deal with them.

However, it seems that according to the MCU Wiki, Bruce only had an estranged relationship with his father, as he felt he was never able to impress him. But even then, they could have had the whole abusive father plot point.

Also, even if Bruce isn’t a fighter like Thor or Steve, he’s still pretty damn cool? Like honestly, listens to this:

“...Banner specialized in nuclear physics, biochemistry, and was a member of the Bio-science Department. During his tenure, Banner met astrophysicist Erik Selvig, one of the university's instructors. During that time, Banner was involved in a praised work on anti-electron collisions and gamma radiation, becoming one of the foremost geniuses of his entire generation”

Also, Bruce not only has seven PHDs, but according to the comics, is the fourth most intelligent person and greatest nuclear scientist in the world. But apparently since he doesn’t like to fight and isn’t handsome like Thor, then he must be shoved aside right🙄

Oh no wait, apparently Bruce was trained in martial arts. Guess the writers forgot about that

Hulk is not just some angry beast. Yes, he does experience erratic behavior, but it’s not just his anger that is on such a level of intensity. All of Hulk’s emotions are raised to an eleven.

I think this user explained Hulk better than I can:

“The Hulk goes even deeper then just a smashing machine. He’s Bruce’s childhood trauma. Bruce never coped with his abuse and pushed it away so much that it took gamma poisoning to bring it out. Bruce is the face of adults who endured abuse as children but try to survive and be better”

The reason why Bruce doesn’t enjoy becoming Hulk is because he doesn’t enjoy hurting people. He doesn’t want to be a monster like his father.

Hulk is only violent because all he’s ever known is violence. Like Bruce, the Hulk does NOT enjoy hurting people. Hulk only hurts people he feels deserve it. Half of the time Hulk is confused as to why people are attacking him. So it really doesn’t make any sense why he’d suddenly be ok with killing people on Sakaar.

Now I’m not pining all the blame on Taika for Bruce’s shit writing. Obviously Bruce has been done dirty since Age of Ultron. But by god did Taika not help at all.

All he did was fuel people’s opinions that Bruce is only good when he turns into the Hulk or just fades into the background alongside Natasha and Clint to let the big three get their spotlight.

Or well, just Steve and Tony since apparently people forget that Thor was among one of the most underrated members of the Avengers. And y’all wanna act like you’ve loved him all this time? My dudes, I have been adoring Thor since the first goddamn Avengers movie in 2012. Don’t try that fake shit.

Although Bruce isn’t my favorite character, he definitely fascinates me alongside Hulk. There’s so much more to them than meets to eye. They had so potential and worth, it’s no wonder Bruce Banner is one of Marvel’s most iconic and notable heroes next to Peter Parker and Wolverine.

But please, Taika worshippers, enlighten me on how Bruce is just some boring nerd and Hulk is just a killing machine

[miss-choco-chips]

Twisted Soulmate shorts.

Listen, I do plan on making a sequel eventually, but in the meantime, can I tempt you with some half assed bits of Tim’s life as Ra’s Bonded/Bride/Unwilling Sugar baby? All in the spirit of putting off studying for my finals :D

~.~

“We need some ground rules”, Tim stated plainly, staring at the fiery hell in front of them. By his side, Ra’s sipped his wine glass, as cozy in front of all the destruction as one would standing by a fireplace. He looked ready to break out the s'mores. “Some Do’s and Do not’s, with penalties for each one we break. So, you know. We don’t completely destroy each other.”

“Be honest with me, Beloved, would that actually stop you from infringing damage to my properties?”

In the spirit of good sportsmanship, Tim actually thought about it for a few minutes.

~.~

Or; Tim elopes with Ra’s and commits to his role as the world’s most unimpressed, reluctant bride ‘soulmate’. Featuring Pru (who is having entirely too much fun), four little minions (whoever catches the reference and knows which fandom I stole them from gets brownie points) and absolutely no sign of any bats to spoil Tim’s fun.

~.~

~.~

The robe was green, and that was a problem. It wasn’t itchy, it wasn’t uncomfortable, it wasn’t restrictive.

But it was green.

Pru’s eyes found his in the mirror, a scowl and a smirk facing each other. Tim crossed his arms, the exquisite silk not even creasing, and his frown deepened. One of the robe’s sleeves covered him from shoulder to wrist, the other leaving the opposite limb completely bare. The intent was obvious enough, one mark on display, the others hidden away like dirty secrets. 

So why the need for that branding color? 

“Isn’t this excessive? Putting a collar on me may be easier, for his purpose.”

“Should I forward that idea to the Master?”

“Only if you want another punch to the nose.”

A snort, and Pru took the two steps keeping her at his back. Her hand dropped to his shoulder, and the expression on the assassin’s face changed to a far more serious one.

“Are you sure you want to do this? I could help you out of the base. Still owe you a few, we can call this one even for that time in Budapest.”

Tim’s scowl went away, a contemplative look on his eyes as they lowered to the ground.

“I’m not sure of anything nowadays, Pru. Except perhaps that I don’t want to wear this color.”

Her grip tightened for a second, two, three. Then, her eyes flew to the window and back to him before her next words came out, fake smirk back on place.

“Well then, the Master expects you to join him for breakfast. We’ll be moving bases soon, and I think he wanted to give you the tour before that.”

Tim’s eyes, that had followed hers to the window, stayed there, guarded and cold like they never were. He nodded.

“I’ll be there shortly. Just need to… fix my appearance a bit.”

She nodded, her smirk more sincere now, and left his bedchambers. 

The shadows jumped into the room before the door was even halfway closed.

A little over half an hour later, Ra’s Al Ghul looked up from the reports he was revising, cup of tea still untouched on the table, pastries and fruits perfectly distributed in front of him, to watch the Detective approach.

His robe was a curious maroon.

As if sensing his question, the young man took his place across from the Demon’s head, placid smile softening his features despite ice cold eyes boring into his.

“Oh, this?”, demurely, he raised the covered arm, accepting the coffee one of his servants provided. The sleeve slipped down enough to show three names on white skin, but Ra’s eyes strayed to the clothe. He knew that shade of brownish.

“I could have sworn I sent you green robes, Detective. I do wonder, where did you find a dye?”

“As I’m sure Pru can tell you, noses bleed a lot. On the bright side, you don’t have to worry about sending a clean up crew to tidy up my bedchambers. Nice morning workout, too, thank you.”

Amused despite himself, Ra’s threw his head back and laughed.

----.---

“We need some ground rules”, Tim stated plainly, staring at the fiery hell in front of them. By his side, Ra’s sipped his wine glass, as cozy in front of all the destruction as one would standing by a fireplace. He looked ready to break out the s'mores. “Some Do’s and Do not’s, with penalties for each one we break. So, you know. We don’t completely destroy each other.”

“Be honest with me, Beloved, would that actually stop you from infringing damage to my properties?”

In the spirit of good sportsmanship, Tim actually thought about it for a few minutes. “I mean, as long as you respect my boundaries, I won’t have a reason to show my displeasure.”

“And what about my boundaries? It’s only reasonable that for each rule you decide on, I get to demand one of my own making.”

“If they don’t conflict with mine, I guess I could learn to work around them. Considering what you do for a living, it’s not like you can ask for more.”

Ra’s tilted his head, as if saying ‘yeah, fair’. They watched the flames consuming one of Ra’s favored castles in silence for a while longer. The parisian authorities would be arriving soon, though no before they were ready to leave; Ra’s wouldn’t allow any interruptions. 

They were probably making the ninja standing guard behind them uncomfortable, with the silence, veiled threats and mind games. Except for Pru. She’d be thriving in her fellows’ fear. 

“Should we go somewhere more private to decide this rules, Timothy?”

A shake, long raven locks hitting the air like small whips, and the young hero turned on his heel to go back to the plane waiting for them.

“I need some time to think them over. I’ll let you know when I decide.”

---.---

Is the Demon’s Head, instead, who demands the first one.

“You will allow a squad of my people around you at all times, Detective, and you’ll let them tend to you as it’s becoming of my bride.”

“If you ever call me your bride again”, states the young man, calmly turning a page on the book he was reading, curled up in the armchair Ra’s had specifically made his men drag into his office for the sole purpose of tempting him into staying put and in Ra’s direct line of sight, “the next base I make go boom will be the one you’re in at that moment.”

“My soulmate.”

“Still creepy, but significantly less; I’ll accept it. What were you saying about bodyguards? The answer is no, by the way, but I thought it would be fair to let you explain your reasoning before shooting you down again.”

“I have no need for explaining myself; you were the one to suggest rules. This is merely the first one. As it is, and since you asked so nicely, I’ll tell you that, as my bonded, you have a price in your head so high even the purest of heart man would be tempted to hunt you down. It’s merely for your safety, as I worry so.”

The dirty look the younger gives him over his book shows him exactly what he thinks of Ra’s obvious jab at his abilities and strength.

“There’s also the matter of your lack of sleep, or the blatant underweight you’re showing.”

“I don’t need a nanny nor a bodyguard, Ra’s.”

“Maybe so, but what would my enemies think of my power if I couldn’t spare a few men to protect my bonded? You can think of it as a political tactic, if it’ll lay your worries at rest. It won’t be to spy on you, as I already have a team dedicated to that.”

Not even a blink, of course he knew, he’d be an idiot to think Ra’s was giving him wiggle room without someone hounding his steps. A hum, the flicker of something behind the man’s eyes that put Ra’s instantly on guard, but not enough to help him predict his next movement.

“You know that any rule you make, I can counter with one of my own.”

“I do, and am ready to honor, as it’s the nature of our deal. I’m a man of my word.”

“Okay then”, the detective finally conceded, sitting up straight, book closed on his lap and hands resting easily over the cover. “I’ll accept your terms, and won’t give my future clique the slip.”

Despite this small victory, Ra’s didn’t allow himself to relax; now came the detective’s countermeasure.

Calmly as still water, the slim man stood up, walking towards Ra’s desk, opening the book on its first page and softly placing in on the wood between them. One slice of paper, carefully folded, gave the Demon’s Head pause.

“Since you insist this is for show, and thus not requiring specific skills on the ninja’s part, I’m going to choose who will be part of my clique. After all, I’ll be in perpetual close quarters with these people, it’s only fair I get to decide who it’ll be.”

Ra’s eyes never left the icy blue ones staring him down. It’d be a fatal mistake to let one’s sight wander when there was a viper in the room.

“Prudence is already tasked with managing your schedule, she can’t be considered among these you selected.”

“She isn’t”, was fired back. “These aren’t fully fledged ninja, they have just begun their training. As such, I can make sure their progress aligns with my needs, something that will make them more useful in the long run if they are to be my shadows. A sniper that can socially blend in as a perfect camaleon. A prodigy, both in mind games and the technological world. A mechanic well versed in a caregiver tasks. A naturally born fighter, showed proficiency particularly on swords and hand to hand. I think those four tick every box you might want to fill, don’t you?”

A few seconds pass, while Ra’s tries to think back on every newish recruit who had the described qualities. He couldn’t come with a single one. Too many variables.

Despite himself, he nods. His bonded lifts his hand from the desk, and picks up his book on his way to the door, not looking back while Ra's unfolds the list.

He feels himself freeze. 

“Children?”

Timothy has already left the room. Ra's can't help but feel pride. As foolish as he thinks his bonded's mission to be, he has to admire his dedication to it, and Timothy had just spent the equivalent of a Genie's first wish with the purpose of freeing four young ones from the League's training and future.

-----.-----

Tim is looking down at his three 'bodyguards', knowing he made the right call but still feeling the panic creeping up on him. Like, fuck, this was clearly an evil organization, as no self respecting moral one would allow him to be responsible of four impressionable, probably traumatized children.

L, P, H and K. 9, 7, 10 and 9 respectively. All sitting down, hands on their laps, eyes down. Ready to obey any order.

Fuck, he wanted to puke.

Breathing in deeply, he crouched in front of them. Tried for a smile. Too forced. Settled for a grimace.

“My name is Tim”, he started, “and you're safe with me. I'll train you, protect you from the League as much as possible, and try my best to help you escape if I find a better place for you.”

He doesn't bother lying for appearances sake. Ra's must know Tim's reasons for choosing children (too good, would be noticed soon by their teachers, would be under Ra's thumb sooner rather than later), but it didn't matter. Even if Tim managed to get them away, it was his right. For all intents and purposes, as far as the League was concerned, he owned them. Not that he was going to tell them that: if it made him sick to think that, he can only imagine that information on the children's minds. 

They don't seem to believe him, but answer honestly when asked questions about their past. L had (bravely, stupidly) sold himself into servitude to the League to help his family. P, apparently a smart cookie, was sold away by some scientific organization back home when she started asking too many question about the disappearance of her father and brother. One of H's mothers had left the League when she married, and her son was taken away as compensation in the middle of the night, when she couldn't fight back (luckily, as she'd have died and they would have still taken the kid). K was an orphan, sucked into the League too young, but saved by an older apprentice who took him under his wing: said boy was now missing, and K's obvious short fuse wouldn't stand for it long.

He wants to save these children so bad it hurts. Has to remind himself that whatever he will do about this (and he still has to think about it), he won't be able to do for a while.

----.----

He keeps some sort of schedule. Waking up in the morning, breakfast with Ra's unless previously canceled by the other man, training his new minions, break a fight between L and K, lunch, give them numerous tasks to get them off his back (keeping one close for appearances sake; they were his bodyguards after all, or would be after some training), wander along whichever base they were at the moment, tea with Ra's, picking up his brats, wander some more and some time for them to play like actual children, dinner, bed. Rinse repeat.

Some variations, however, were inevitable.

Groaning Tim rolled on his back, silken sheets under him and around his legs, to look at the four little heads waiting by his bedside, various degrees of alarm there.

“What is it?”

H's hand gripped tighter L's, who had the other arm wrapped around P. K was standing in front of them, dagger at the ready.

“The base is under attack. We await our instructions, Master.”

“Tim”, he reminded the child, before yawning.  “Who is it again?”

This time, the youngest and only girl talked. “We are not sure. Said something about The Demon's Head being their archenemy and/”

“Then it's a Ra's problem, not a Us problem. Let the man handle it, he has enough manpower as it is, and even if he doesn’t, he's due for a swim anytime now”, dropping his head and closing his eyes once again, he vaguely waved a hand in their general direction. “You guys go back to bed, just be careful and lock the door in case some of Ra's worst people let someone wander.”

“We can't possibly leave you! What if you're attacked? We'd be too far away to protect you!” K’s tiny hand tightened around his knife. “We'd fail our mission!”

Reigning in a groan, he gave it a thought. They had a point, in that were anything to happen, he risked not being close enough to keep the children safe. 

Sighing, he waved a hand again.

“Okay, you guys can stay, but we are not getting up. It's like five am, I went to sleep less than an hour ago.”

 P jumped in place and frowned at him. “We escorted you here right after dinner.”

“That you did. Anyway, cuddle piles anyone?”

L jumped right in, as he expected, worming his way under the sheets until he could cuddle to Tim's left side, dragging H behind him. P seemed to think about it, but if the dark circles under her eyes (and his informants) were to be trusted, she'd probably slept as much as him, most assuredly looking into her family's disappearance. She finally fell on his other side, instantly groaning.

K looked at all of them in disappointment, and stubbornly sat down behind P, his back to them and facing the door. Tim wondered what it would take to get the kid to chill.

Shrugging (you can't win them all), he went back to sleep.

By the time he really woke up, it was to an amused Pru holding hauntingly a camera and smirking down at him. All four kids were now cuddled around him.

“Shut up, Pru. Like you can talk. I saw you giving L that practice gun the other day, don't think I didn't.”

[cowboy-anon]

It’s a long one, lads, but here’s the ✨ super special whump ✨ I promised! The reason? It’s the amazing @unicornscotty‘s birthday!! (Make sure to wish them a happy birthday! :D ) Happy birthday to one of the first friends I made here on Tumblr. <3 What am I doing to celebrate? Posting a Pirate Whump fanfic (OG story by @unicornscotty, hence it being the present)!!!

!!! Note: You don’t need to read the story to understand this fic, but once you’re finished with this, you ought to if you like pirate whump!

Super amazing story idea courtesy of @milk-carton-whump. Then I made it an AU because rivalry, am I right? Canonically, these two get along pretty well, but a prince and a pirate on the same ship? There’s bound to be some bad blood. Then, of course, a sprinkling of enemies to lovers because why the heck not! :) 

Truth be told, I don’t know if it’s whumpy enough. That being said, I’ve been especially bloodthirsty lately, so there probably is enough whump XD. Hope you guys like it!

CW: Accidental self-harm (biting tongue), alcohol mention, bodily fluids (drool and blood), cuts, death mention (in passing), derogatory language towards the classes (monarchs and pirates), hitting, implied murder (but what do you expect with pirates, y’know?), lots of salt and sarcasm, pirate whump, stitches mention, spartan kick, swearing, swords against throats, sword fighting (!!!)

Now, without further ado:

ENEMIES TO LOVERS SLOWBURN AU - ONLY YOU NEVER GET TO SEE THE END >:)))) 

Alternatively:

Prince v. Pirate

Augustus calls them “scum” one too many times today. Luckily, Alex knows just how to push his buttons back. 

They stare into the murky bucket of mop water by the mast, full and swirling with the grayish tendrils of dirty soap and muck from the ship’s wooden floorboards. Alex can feel Augustus’ presence by the bow of the ship. He takes up far more space than Alex realized when the two of them first boarded this boat. 

But that’s... perfect, they think slyly. Someone who casts such a long shadow surely has that much more to lose. 

“When we first met,” Alex calls suddenly, fighting the amusement in their voice, “you didn’t kill me. I doubt your father will be very pleased to hear that.” They laugh and give the mop another soapy swipe across the deck. Alex looks over their shoulder with a devilish grin. “A prince saving a pirate. A prince too weak to finish them off. I may be scum, but at least I’m not a coward.”

Alex’s grin only grows when they hear the stomp of Augustus’ approaching boots coming down the stairs behind them. “Careful, Gus,” they jive. “That day was a fluke. Mind you, if we do this again, your inexperience will be your downfall.” Alex spins on their heel and laughs at what they see: The prince wielding his sword, carrying himself in a learned but clearly off-centered defensive position. “Very well. I could give you some pointers if you’d like.”

“Pointers?” Augustus scoffs and moves in closer to Alex, sword low to the ground and too tight in his grip. He crosses his feet when he moves, too, Alex notes. All classic mistakes. 

“The kingdom’s best sword fighters have been training me since I could walk,” Augustus continues lowly. “ I spar as one of the best in the kingdom. Don’t overestimate your prowess, pirate.”

Alex laughs. “You think sparring is anything like combat?”

“Sparring is combat,” Augustus spits back. “And as far as I can tell, your sword isn’t even drawn. Does that not invalidate all of the claims you’ve made so far as to your knowledge on the matter?” He gestures at Alex with his sword. “One of the first rules, be prepared.”

“Oh, not at all, Gus.” Without warning, Alex takes the mop in hand and swings it at Augustus’ exposed shoulder with a wet crack. 

Augustus’ hold on his sword falters when his right hand instantly moves for his injured shoulder. 

“First rule, gain the power in the situation.” Alex unsheathes the sword at their hip and holds it out, at the ready, gripped comfortably between their hands. The correct way, they mentally boast.

 “You know,” Alex says, motioning with their sword, “if you’d held your blade a little higher and led with your chest, you would’ve been able to block that blow with ease. But what would I know?” Alex runs their thumb over the engraved hilt of their sword, etched with tallies. Ten to be exact. Ten men. Ten dead men. “I’m certainly not a seasoned fighter, not like the beloved prince.”

Alex’s eyes fall back on the prince, still nursing his shoulder with gritted teeth—at least, that’s what he wants them to believe. Alex catches the way his fingers curl around the handle of his sword with newfound determination, the flicker of mischief that crosses his downturned face. 

If only he knew who he was dealing with.

Augustus lunges, sharp and quick, favoring his right shoulder but still far faster than Alex expects. But they are expecting it. 

Alex drives their sword forward at an angle, and Augustus misses his mark by a good three inches. It was such a simple maneuver, such a simple counter. 

“Now you’ve done it,” Augustus growls. 

Alex rolls their eyes. “Hasn’t anyone told you good sword fighting comes with a clear mind?” 

Augustus doesn’t hesitate with the overhead arc. Alex brings their sword up in a quick parry and forces Augustus’ sword to the left. “Don’t lock your elbows,” Alex quips, coming in with a left cut that Augustus barely avoids. “And never use that move unless your opponent is incredibly vulnerable.”

“Shut up!” Augustus swings his sword hard at Alex’s right side. “I don’t need advice from a pirate!” 

Alex notes his breathlessness as they match his swing from the left. The swords collide, loud and dangerous. But Augustus breaks it up before it becomes a battle of strength. 

Augustus goes for the arc again. Alex slips to the right and his sword hits the wood with a hollow thunk. 

In the time it takes Augustus to get back in position, Alex has their sword at his throat, not quite touching but threatening nonetheless. “What did I say?” Alex purrs, moving in closer. “If your opponent isn’t vulnerable, you are, plain and simple.”

Augustus’s sword crashes into Alex’s, swiping it away from his neck. The motion shocks Alex and stopping the momentum pulls at their back uncomfortably. They barely manage to get their feet underneath them in time to block yet another attack from above with their sword. 

Augustus wipes the sweat from his brow when the two part, watching Alex scramble towards the bow of the ship to compose themself. The smirk on his face is undeniable. “Vulnerable enough for you?”  

“You’re vulnerable,” Alex snaps back, chest heaving, “and predictable.”  

Augustus snarls, taking it upon himself to make the first move once again. Alex sighs but takes their sword to the ready position. 

“I’m surprised you’re fighting so fairly,” Augustus muses, advancing on the pirate. 

Alex takes a step back and startles when their boot connects with one of the stairs at the end of the deck. They need to move, that much they know, but for now they focus on the princely pain in the ass in front of them. 

“Is that so?” Alex steps back onto the staircase, one step, then another, sword extended in front of them.  “What does fair mean to you monarchs?”

Augustus’ expression sours as he begins ascending the stairs after them. “All sword, all skill. True combat. Noble combat.” 

“‘Noble combat,’ hmm?” Alex reaches the top of the stairs and stops. “You mean as noble as oppression can be, don’t you?”

Augustus smiles, taking another step. “I mean as noble as a piliger who follows it can be.”

Alex nods, feigning understanding. “If I could make one note,” they start. 

Augustus glares at them. 

“Fighting fair gets you killed.” Alex pulls their sword to the right, and with Augustus’ sword so low, Alex has a clear view of his abdomen. “And playing dirty? Well…” Alex sets their feet. “Pretty par for the course.”

The kick Alex delivers to his stomach is solid. Augustus manages to keep a hold of his sword on the way down,  but he hits the ground hard, and the moan that leaves his lips is wretched. Well-deserved but still wretched.

Alex clambers down the stairs and back onto the deck, equally impressed, amused, and horrified to see Augustus getting up so quickly. Augustus keeps one hand on his sword and the other on his stomach, and for a brief moment Alex considers kicking him until he stays down. 

By the time Alex decides that’s exactly what they’re going to do, Augustus is on his feet with more fire in his gorgeous blue eyes than Alex’s seen since they started fighting. 

This isn’t going to end well. 

Augustus straightens and rolls his shoulder with a grimace. “I did say I spar as one of the best, pirate. Part of that is being able to get back up.”

Augustus comes in strong with a ruthless swing to Alex’s right side. Alex brings their sword up and out for a block, and although they don’t end up cut in half, their shoulders ache, then burn with a deep familiar pain. Still predictable, they note, wincing. Thank goodness for that. 

Alex isn’t so lucky the next time. Another swipe, fast and aggressive, flies towards their face. Alex sidesteps but trips over their own feet. They’re quick but not quick enough. 

They feel it, the sharp sting of sweat mingling with an open wound. Alex brings their fingers to their face and prods gently at where they think the cut is. When they bring them back to look at them, they’re covered in blood, superficial but maddening all the same. 

Alex grins, glaring through rich brown curls as they click their tongue. “You’re persistent. I like that. But it does seem like someone needs to work on their timing.”

Alex lunges forward, faking with no spared conviction that they’re going in for a jab and instead plant their foot on the toe of Augustus’ boot. With a spin that’s just as practical as it is for show, they slam their elbow into his jaw. “Like so!”

On their way back to the mast, arm alight with near-paralyzing pins and needles, they catch a glimpse of the trail of blood oozing from Augustus’s lip. He bit his own tongue it seems. Poetic almost. 

“Fighting dirty, are we?” Augustus brings his hand under his chin and catches the blood and drool in his palm. “You know, any other time, your kind would be hung for this. But I must admit I’m enjoying this.”

Augustus tosses his handful of fluids across the freshly-mopped deck, more blood than anything else, and wipes his hand on his pants before returning his bloody grip to the sword’s hilt. “Now then. Let’s continue, shall we, pirate?”

Alex bristles at the way Augustus spits it this time, pirate, like it’s poison. At this point, Alex thinks skewering him might not be a bad idea. 

But no, that won’t be satisfying, not for the likes of him. Alex wants to humiliate him. They want to win. And all winning requires is submission. That and a little salt in the wound. 

“You might want to reconsider, Gus,” Alex says. Their stance is defensive but comfortable, balancing on the balls of their feet just in case Augustus tries to make a move. “It is quite cowardly to submit to a pirate, but if the king knew what I planned on doing to you, I think he’d understand.”

Augustus scoffs. “Meaning?” 

“Meaning I sincerely hope you don’t. I’m sure a missing arm would be quite the message to bring back to your fair kingdom.”

Augustus lunges in for a jab, all rage and false-assured thoughtfulness just like Alex expects him to. All it takes is a slip to the side and an outstretched leg to send them stumbling past them, fighting to regain his balance. 

“What did I say?” Alex goads at Augustus’ back. “Vulnerable and so, so predictable. Switch up your moves and it won’t be so embarrassingly easy to send you reeling.”

Alex doesn’t even see the side swipe coming, but they most certainly feel the slice across their abdomen. “Fuck!” It’s heat, raw and burning, but it’s not pain, not yet, not with the blood roaring in their ears. They swallow their blooming panic in time to meet Augustus’ next blow, weaker than the rest have been, with equal ferocity. 

There’s the shriek of metal against metal, invigorating at any other time, and the swords catch on each other at the hilt—the battle of strength and dexterity Alex was waiting for. Will Augustus break it off again?

Alex meets his eyes through their interlocked swords, brown on blue. No, he won’t break it off, not this time. The wolfish grin hiding the twisted agony behind his eyes says it all. That, and the trembling grip Alex has on their own sword. 

“You look unwell, Alex.” Augustus pushes harder against Alex’s block and laughs windedly. “You may want to consider submission.”  

Alex pants and grits their teeth. “And let you miss out on a… a valuable lesson? That’d be awfully rude of me.” They push back.  “Besides, I could ask you the same thing. How’s that shoulder of yours?”

Alex breaks away and feels the first stab of agony rip through their middle, hard enough that when they swing in retort, their sword almost flies from their unfeeling hands. 

“Keep it together,” they whisper, reclaiming their hold on the sword. Then, to Augustus, “If you’d broken the hold purposely, you could’ve reestablished your power in the situation, you know.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Augustus says lowly. Alex notes the cryptic tone in his voice but not fast enough. Without another word, he charges Alex, sword held higher, chest out strong, back straight because of it. 

Alex anticipates the collision and holds their sword at the ready, stepping back towards the mast in preparation for the inevitable block. What they don’t expect is the way Augustus’ foot hooks around their own. 

Alex’s feet fly out from under them, and this time they’re the one who’s stumbling. In their search for ground, they go blind to everything around them until their back collides with the mast of the ship. 

When the space around them registers again, Augustus is right in front of them and his blade puts a threatening pressure against their neck. His breath is hot and wet against their face. Under their chin, they feel the faintest trickle of sweat or, more likely, blood running down their Adam’s apple. 

Checkmate. 

Augustus stares into Alex’s eyes, still out of breath but gradually recovering. “How about that?” he breathes.

Alex stares back and chuckles softly, then groans at another stab of pain in their stomach as the adrenaline starts to wear off. “Not bad, Prince. Legs further apart though. You’re screwing your balance.” Alex dips their hands between themself and Augustus, careful not to nick themself with the sword at their throat, and touches at the tear in their shirt, feeling around for damage. It’s nothing rum and a few dozen stitches won’t fix. 

Augustus follows the movement with his eyes, then raises them back to Alex’s face. “Anything else you want to teach me?”

Alex grins. In one swift movement, they drop their sword, tear the arm holding the sword to their neck away from them, and pull that same arm behind Augustus’ back, shoving him hard into the mast. “Yeah,” they say above his surprised grunt. “Never lose focus.”

Alex gives Augustus’ arm a final rough pull, their chest against his back before pulling away with a huff. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need a drink.”

Alex walks across the deck to the sailor’s quarters. They hope Augustus can’t see that their body is on fire.

[lilac-5ky]

Roommates from Hell, pt.5 (Toji x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 5: Off to the Races/A can of worms

Chapter 4 | Story Masterlist | Masterlist | Requests

A/N: reposting cause tumblr is being a bitch with the tags Worm's debut, aye! Also, let us all who thought it was horse races and not boat races lament in silence.

Warning: Curse attack counts as a warning I suppose. Mentions of blood, strangling, etc.

The furniture carrier service arrived with your stuff two days later, on a rainy Monday morning. The two middle-aged men congratulated you in broken Japanese for your wedding, whose ceremony apparently took place at Okazaki Jinja (also known as Rabbit’s Shrine) on Christmas Eve, and according to Toji, you looked most stunning in your shiromuku kimono.

His descriptions were so vivid that whenever he called you honey and wrapped an arm around your waist, you questioned whether your own wedding invitation was lost in the mail.

The charades continued even after the men departed, reaching their climax when Toji tossed you a slotted screwdriver and willed you into work, because what is a wife if not a slave?

That’s not to say Toji was a lousy fake husband. Not only did he offer to christen his new bed together, but to also perform “the shit” out of his marital duties. Neither happened, and every mention of you as his pretty little wife faded with the melting of the ice and the blooming of the plum trees.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, and before you knew it, the two of you had fully adjusted to each other’s presence. For the most part. You still found it excruciatingly hard to get over the recurrent mess he left in the bathroom as if he were digging for Atlantis, his habit of discarding bloodied clothes in the corridor rather than the hamper, the Easter egg hunt you regularly embarked on in search of his stashed dirty plates, and of course, his turning the living room into a gym, not minding that his roommate just so happened to be a single female with urges of her own.

And for the record, his offers to join him in the shower only multiplied after he got his hands on the first water bill and insisted bathing together would help cut down on unnecessary expenses.

Toji was a handful, and living with him felt as if you were a contestant at Takeshi’s Castle, minus the guards whooping you with sticks and the exorbitant cash prize to justify your endurance. But even with the constant temptation that he was, you’d grown appreciative of your shared routine.

A typical weekday involved you getting up at the crack of dawn to prepare breakfast and side dishes ahead of lunch. The sounds of tinkering pots reached his ears before the whiff of freshly brewed coffee got to his nostrils—a bedhead Toji sheepishly stumbling his way into the kitchen with sweatpants low around his hips and a fist jabbing the sand off his eyes as he greeted you with the groggiest of Mornin’s.

You shared breakfast until duty called, and on days he found sitting at home as a trophy wife too tedious for his tastes, he popped by the diner for a “free” meal paid straight out of your pocket.

By the time you got home late in the afternoon, Toji had already half-assed his assigned chores and would either be zapping through the channels or going through another one of your belongings. Last week featured your junior high diary, whose existence and table of contents remained blurry until he cracked a joke about your short-lived crush on the hot substitute history teacher and you snorted a noodle out of your nose.

The nights were spent evaluating teenagers in idol shows, betting pizza slices on MMA fighters, dissing soap opera protagonists for their terrible life choices, and attempting to solve the cases in crime dramas ahead of the detectives. Cheap thrills for cheap entertainment, with the one to get the most correct answers during “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?” entitled to minor rewards ranging from red bean soup in the cold months and shaved ice in the Summer, as well as foot rubs for you and shoulder rubs for him.

Time in your apartment moved at the languid pace of snow globe snowflakes and at the hurried tempo of hourglass sand. Five months later—in June, specifically—you barely remembered how to replace light bulbs or the bus routes from and to your job because you couldn’t recall a day-to-day life without Toji. Your hand naturally set a second plate on the table; your voice naturally placed an extra wonton order at the Chinese joint; your eyes naturally crinkled at each of his antics; and your lips naturally arched upon his welcoming you home; you naturally weren’t alone anymore.

And in a way, this was everything you’d ever wanted, but in plenty of others, you were terrified of losing it all to his former lifestyle when Toji came to his senses and realized this kind of life wasn’t for him—that you weren’t for him.

To reward him for being somewhat frugal and to exercise impulse control, you gathered some of your savings and surprised him with a trip to one of his favorite places. However, what ended up stealing the limelight was the big floppy hat on your head, which had last been in fashion before the Titanic sank.

In your defense, whatever impression you had of horse racing came from Hollywood movies where the rich and mighty spectated from their VIP seats with their fancy binoculars and fancier parasols. A near-empty venue with takoyaki stalls and an audience of men spread as sparsely as the hairs on their scalps was not what you expected.

“She’s a foreigner,” Toji explained to the bookie, whose eyes narrowed at the odd combination of your yellow umbrella-shaped hat paired with a white formal sundress and matching barrette heels.

“You should’ve told me,” you huffed as Toji led you to a corner next to the booths.

“Tell ya what?”

“That I’d stick like a sore thumb! Feels like everyone’s staring at me.”

He licked his fingers and hastily flipped through the racing cards. “That’s because you are the prettiest in ‘ere.”

You tugged your hat lower over your reddened face, mumbling, “They’re all pensioners anyway.”

He didn’t pay you any more attention until he was done sorting the papers. He went over the general rules of betting, recommending you put your cash on the odds-on Narita Brian, a Thoroughbred stallion that already counted seventeen victories in his seven-month career. And you would have trusted his intuition if you hadn’t suddenly remembered about his one-sided affair with Lady Luck.

While Toji was off to grab seats, you wagered half of the money on his choice and the other half on the newest entry at the very bottom of the list—an Arabian horse named Doraemon. You collected the slips and spotted him in the middle rows of your section, his feet arched against the empty front seat and his arms spread over the ones beside him. You sat down on his left and handed him his slip, glancing down at the tracks.

Men in identical caps that merely differed in color were tending to their mounts, fixing their halters in place. The race wouldn’t start for another thirty minutes, during which Toji ran on about jockeys, breeds, and records, letting you in on how the majority of the contesting horses were between the ages of two and three and how they collectively shared their birthdays on January 1. It was unlike him to gush about his interests, but there was no mistaking it; he loved it there.

You did your best to keep track of the complex terminology and Doraemon’s blue flair as the herd of horses made it to the starting gates. The bell rang without any further delay, and Toji’s voice fell into an abrupt hush as he watched Narita Brian fall second to Golden Wind and third to the newcomer Doraemon. He tore his slip into bits while you struggled to come up with the right words to say—though the cash spoke plenty of its own.

“Beginner’s luck,” Toji scoffed, maintaining a five-step distance as the two of you walked toward his rental of the month, a German silver sedan with ivory leather coating.

You triumphantly fanned your face with the envelope. “Is that what losers call it?”

“Beginner’s luck,” he repeated.

“This has nothing to do with luck. Simply me trusting in my childhood hero to save the day.”

He slurred something under his breath and hopped in the driver’s seat, banging the door with a thud that bounced across the parking lot, filled with the cars of people from the family restaurant next door.

“I’ve saved your ass a lot more than that stupid robo-cat, but I don’t see ya trustin’ me.”

You rolled your eyes and fastened your seat belt. You shuffled the banknotes and split them into twos, gesturing for Toji to open his palm.

“I trust you. Just not your luck.”

For once, he was hesitant to accept. “Save your pity cash. You earned it.”

“No, we earned it.” You grabbed his hand and slotted the bills right in. “I bet our savings. Even if your prediction fell out, you are still entitled to half of the prize.”

His fingers closed around yours, his thin obsidian brows relaxing as you held the weight of his persistent stare. “Wouldn’t do the same if our roles reversed.”

“I know.”

“And you’re wrong to gimme half. I pay less rent and snatch the spare change when you’re not lookin’.”

“That’s why I trust you,” you smiled. “If anything, you are consistent.”

His bottom lip twitched as if there was something else to say. There wasn’t. He let your palm fall empty onto your lap and put the key in the ignition, slinging his arm over your headrest to back into the road. You didn’t budge. Not in the slightest.

Not even when his mouth was inches away from yours, hooded jade eyes teasing his intentions.

“You are hopeless,” he said.

“Already know that,” you answered.

Not long after you hit the road, you found yourselves parked outside a grocery store in Minato City, the horizon melting into saturated ripples of copper gold and dusty pink. Toji motioned for you to hurry and reclined against his pushed-back seat in an attempt to escape the invasive sun glare.

You stepped out of the vehicle, momentarily popping in to drop your hat over his face. He groaned before acknowledging your gesture with a soft Thanks and an even softer smile, both hidden under the hat’s wide brim.

“I’ll cook you something real tasty for dinner. Your favorite!” The words scattered behind you as you broke into a jog, hair flowing freely against the wind and heart thumping lightly to the monotone chirp of the cicadas.

A beep declared your entrance to the three conversing part-timers who rushed back to their registers—two of them experienced enough to greet you with a bow of their heads, and the other too preoccupied with her phone. Teenagers. Around the same age you were when you got your first gig at that convenience store in Sendagaya.

You grabbed a basket and surveyed the aisles for ingredients. It was too hot for motsunabe but just right for yakitori. You could get some liver (since he was particular about offal) and toss it in the pan, or broil it in the oven. Or, you could go all out and opt for the priciest cut on the shelf: ribeye steak. Granted, Toji wouldn’t tell the difference between Kobe and Sirloin even if it was pointed out to him, but you wanted to savor such a delicacy at least once.

The closer you got to filling the basket, the emptier your wallet got. At checkout, the employee rang up your groceries and stuffed them all in one bag. She thanked you for your purchase, and you trudged outside.

A tinge of violet contoured the pale moonlight, the starry curtain yet to drop. It was the kind of night that made you wish you had a rooftop to yourself. Just you, the stars, and the man whose arm dangled lazily from the driver’s window.

“Hey, what time is it?”

It was safe to assume Toji didn’t share your sentimentalism.

You fished your phone out of your handbag, balancing the groceries against the trunk. “Like, uh… 7:32. Why?”

His fingers drummed at the door, while his lips kept his contemplation private. “Mind goin’ home on your own?”

“On my own?” you blinked. “Why, what happened?”

“Something came up,” Toji said, revving up the engine. “Won’t take long.”

Without getting to ask about the gender of that so-called something, you were deserted in the empty parking lot, witnessing all color in the skies be swallowed by absolute black tar.

You made it home an hour and three buses later, your first initiative being to check on the thawed ice cream pint. Chunks of Belgian chocolate floated on the surface like skerries amidst a vanilla-bourbon ocean. You slammed the lid shut and tossed it in the trash. No dessert for him—assuming he made it in time for dinner, that is.

You threw yourself into work, marinating your suspicions in soy sauce, glazing your apprehension with sherry vinegar, chopping your anger into fine bits, and lastly, searing your frustrations over the stove’s fire.

Whether he was clinking virgin margaritas with some non-virgin Mary at a rooftop garden party in Hibiya was none of your business. You had no right to ask. No right to phone him. No right to worry. No right to blow a fuse either. He had his life and you had yours, and for every point they intersected, a million others existed to divide them.

Still, you had every right to feel like a world-class idiot for thinking these past months ought to take the wild out of the wolf.

The first text came at a quarter past ten. Be there soon. You set the table and messed with the cutlery, arranging and rearranging it over and over again. Steak’s best eaten warm, but it’d be fine. He’d be there soon.

Around eleven, you got a second message. Start without me. You’d already eaten half the salad and gotten a head start on the main course. The meat was worth every penny. It was simply delicious.

By midnight, only his side of the table remained untouched. The ice in his water had melted, the glazed carrots had turned soggy, and the main course was as stale as damp dog hair. What a waste.

You processed the vacancy in his spot, sticking Toji’s image on the chair like a cut-out from a magazine. Inanimate, but there. So close that you could almost tell him off about the overgrown fringes he’d consistently refused to let you snip, when your thoughts were cut short by another buzz—this time, a single word.

Sorry.

Your fingers rehearsed different replies. It’s fine, paired with a smiley face that’d surely cost you a few hundred yen. What are you sorry for? Another fine, albeit more aggressive, alternative. A direct approach with a Who is she, and the most pathetic choice of all: Why can’t it be me?

You dropped the phone and piled up your dishes, emptying the rest of the salad into his. You’d barely reached the sink when the device began to vibrate again, each ring driving the phone closer to the edge of the furniture. The caller hung up before you had the chance to press Decline. Or so you thought until an agitated Toji yelled at the other end of the line. You disposed of the plates and rushed to the table, bringing the speaker to your ear.

“What are you on ab— Hello?” A series of acute beeps terminated the dial.

Please don’t tell me it’s broken, you pleaded while you examined the screen, tapping it on the back as if it were one of those stubborn old TVs— your eyes widening at the final text in your SMS window. You swore you’d deleted everything, but faced with such compelling evidence, your conviction seemed worthless.

You tried to punch in an excuse when a second round of buzzes launched the phone to the floor, where it typed away on its own, twisting your words into incoherent slurs that exceeded the character limit, the last of which repeated the same three-letter word in uppercase letters.

DIE

Startled, you tripped against your chair and knocked it down, the flickering lights drawing your attention to the ceiling. You stole a glance at the intact switch and dashed to the far-end table corner, piecing a steak knife between trembling fists. You’d watched enough horror movies to know those who acted last died first.

“Hey, asshole! That scared to show your ugly mug, you’ve gone into hiding?” You swung the knife forth. “Come out; promise I won’t judge.”

The electricity in the room settled only for the air to turn abnormally cold, your puny strikes facing resistance against the invisible body of your opponent. You gulped, wrapping your fingers tighter around the handle.

“Okay, maybe you aren’t a wuss, but you’re still rude! Attacking me in the middle of the night, implying, what, that I’m single? Since when is that a crime? Breaking and entering, on the other hand, now that’s a felony!

The lack of reaction prompted you to further your display of wits. “Wake up. This is the 21st century, and women can do just fine without man-whores in their lives. Gotta be a real stuck-up to think otherwise.”

Your spiteful insults tackled you to the ground, as your attacker seized the opportunity to entangle themselves around your ankles and decisively shimmied up your throat. A snake? No, this thing definitely had claws. A centipede maybe?

“Who the fuck you think you are deciding if I live or die? Y-you think,” you coughed, blindly stabbing anywhere you felt its presence, “dating is that easy? Why not do it yourself, then? W-what are you here f-for?”

Flight wasn’t in the cards anymore. The spirit’s clutches sank deeper into your flesh as it feasted on your emotions, steadily growing stronger. You combed through Toji’s stories for something to help you get rid of this thing before it got rid of you—a weak spot, a way of striking, a non-sorcerer technique—anything. But staying focused when the oxygen tank that fueled your brain begged to be depleted was plain impossible.

Choosing fight over fright, you ripped through the air with your knife once more. The limitations between your body and the curse’s were unclear. Warm blood trickled from where the sharp edge nicked your unpracticed knuckles, the grip loosening until all there was left for you to do was flap the air, falling victim to the overwhelming pressure in your head.

You were really going to die. Alone and helpless on the unmopped kitchen floor to a foe imperceptible to the naked eye.

What would Toji do?

He’d probably be the one to find your body shaping one of those funny chalk outlines from Law and Order. You didn’t want to admit it, but he was the better detective. Even if the cops wrote you off as another serial case victim, he’d know a curse did it.

You pictured his reaction, hoping he’d at least shed a tear at your loss, that your absence would at least strike a chord in his heart, that you’d at least be included as a highlight in his collection of scars; that you at least wouldn’t be forgotten.

It was fine to be selfish this once, right? After all, you didn’t ask to be missed or honored like a lover or a wife would. Just to be remembered with a smile, as fondly as you recalled him during these final breaths of your pitiful life—a life he alone made worth living.

There were so many things you wished you’d told him, though what you regretted the most was not thanking him for that day at the bridge, knowing fully well you’d never get the chance to.

In the throes of death, two brown antennae sprouting from a gruesome creature you lacked the courage to describe overtook your vision. Thank God you weren’t able to see this earlier. You would have shat your pants and died in a pool of shit.

“There you are… ugly bastard as expected.”

Just when you thought you’d set sail for the other side of the river, a sound akin to that of a bug being stomped pulled you back into what you prayed was reality.

“Been called a bastard before, but ugly?” A viler crunch followed, the centipede crumbling into a pile of dust to reveal the smug grin on your savior’s scarred lips. “Now that’s a first.”

Relief washed over your self-inflicted wounds and abused trachea as you somehow found it in you to stumble rather than leap to the heaven of your choice, an ugly sob muffling all which you tried to say. The sword—judging by the volume of the collision—dropped to the floor as Toji welcomed you in his arms, a large palm rushing to rub the small of your back while his other hand combed through your hair reassuringly.

“It’s okay,” Toji cooed. “I got you now.”

You wept even harder, the gentle tone as he repeated those four words bringing about the opposite of the desired effect. How could you’ve given up so easily when it meant not hearing his voice or seeing his face ever again? How could you doubt your death would shake him when he was frantically kissing apologies on the crown of your head, cradling you as if he was the one who needed to be saved? How could you feel so idiotically ecstatic when you’d nearly turned into curse food?

Still sniffling in his shirt, you wiped your eyes against the fabric and peered at him, taking in his knitted eyebrows and downturned mouth—the worry in his features—and eventually the extra body between you.

“Hey, Toji. What’s that around your waist?”

The potent smell of antiseptics took your kitchen by storm as Toji laid out the first aid kit’s contents over the congested dining table, fitting sterile gauze dressings and iodine bottles in the gaps created by the plates. His chair was dragged closer to yours while he constantly hunched forward, holding both your hands in his own and operating with a little less care than you were willing to tolerate.

“Ouch!” You flinched when his knuckles grazed another of the myriad open wounds that spanned from the apex of your elbow to the chipped tips of your fingernails—none too deep to demand serious medical expertise.

Ignoring your whiny tone, he looped the bandage around your thumb again, this time pressing even harder against your bone. “What a crybaby.”

“Anyone would cry if they were being mummified!”

“Not mummies, they wouldn’t.”

Your next protest lost its turn to the shrill squeak emitted by the elephant, or rather, the worm in the room, whose presence you’d temporarily forsaken. Despite it being of the tubular crawling kind, it didn’t look half as appalling as the monstrosity you witnessed. If anything, its plump lips and rounded cheekbones resembled a human baby more than they did an actual worm.

The creature continued bobbing its head up and down on Toji’s shoulder, its eyes perfectly shut, while it shuddered at its master’s quip. Not only was it sentient, but it was also openly laughing in your face. You hated it.

“What is that thing anyway?” you asked.

“How many times you gonn’ ask? Worm.”

“I can see it’s a worm, Toji, I’m not blind,” you sighed. “I’m asking what’s this worm doing wrapped around your neck like a travel pillow.”

He kept silent while binding the remainder of your fingers—four of them together and the fifth left apart—though “encasing” seemed more appropriate given his dedication to providing you with a proper pair of mittens. He taped the loose end and grabbed the second roll, letting go of your treated hand.

“A’right, quiz time.” Twin shimmers sparkled playfully in his jade eyes. “How do chefs carry their equipment around?”

“You mean their knives?” He nodded. “They stuff them in a roll so they don’t knock each other.”

Toji snapped a quick thumbs-up. “Next question, what’s the name of that movie we watched last week?”

You processed his question while kissing your teeth. “Can I get a hint?”

“A hint, huh?” He scratched his jaw, eventually grinning. “The one with the pervy lawyer and the hot chick who pissed herself.”

“You mean ‘The Secretary’?”

“Rephrase it.”

“The assistant?”

He crooned in approval. “And now for the million-dollar question,” he leaned closer. “Why do people keep mutts?”

“For company? For uh… protection?” He shook his head at both.“Really? Can I phone a friend?”

“Nope. Go simpler and you’ll find it, ain’t that hard. Well, not as if you have anyone to call either.”

You kicked at his chair’s front leg and faked a slap on his giddy face. “You are lucky I have these on, or else!”

“Or else what?” Toji caught your wrist. “You’d hit me?”

You dabbed his cheek lightly enough for him to return to his seat with a complacent smile as he resumed dressing your hand.

“You are the lucky one. A real centipede would have bitten its venom into you. Must have annoyed the livin’ shit out of that curse to have it choke the words outta your potty mouth.”

“You call that luck?”

He hummed, flipping your palm on his knee to pour iodine over a scratch. You hissed as he brought it to his mouth and blew on the wound. “Don’t wanna know about Worm anymore?”

“I… do.”

“Then answer,” Toji said.

“Fine, fine.” You groaned. “You said simpler, so… pet?”

“Bingo. Put ‘em together, and you get your answer.”

“So you are telling me that this worm is your knife carrier, slash hot assistant, slash pet? Is that it?”

He carefully folded the bandage on the inside of your palm and crossed it between your fingers. Again, he didn’t speak until the work was done and you’d retracted your hand.

“In other words, the inventory curse, yes. Reason why you couldn’t off that curse is because ya hit it with a regular knife. You need something imbued with cursed energy; everything else just tickles.”

“That explains a lot,” you mumbled bitterly.

“Can’t cut bread with a cheese knife, can ya?” Toji continued. “Worm over here carries my cursed tools for me. He doesn’t cap, doesn’t bark, and doesn’t drop his pencils either.” He sneered as he cued the worm to open its mouth. “Watch.”

Without receiving a single order, the curse parted its lips to reveal the fur-embedded hilt of a broadsword twice the size of your table, which Toji easily unsheathed and set on the ground.

“That’s 500 million for ya. Cuts through pretty much everything.”

Your eyes widened while he proceeded to showcase his collection, bringing out daggers and claymores that ranged from hundreds of thousands to even a billion yen. He went into some detail when it came to the fancier ones, but the majority were dismissed as either “sword” or “gun”.

Finally, he pulled out the hat you’d lent him and placed it on your head—not a single blotch of saliva, despite it coming straight from the worm’s intestines.

“Don’t you dare tell me you can’t afford rent next time!” You scoffed, watching as the worm crawled down his torso and gobbled up the weapons one by one. It was amazing. Kind of disgusting, but amazing all the same.

“So, Mister Zen’in.” You curled your fingers however best you could and shoved them in his face like a makeshift microphone. “What’s it like being a single dad at the tender age of 28?”

Toji smacked your hand away. “Keep callin’ me that, and I’ll give ya a taste.”

You would have given yourself another injury if it weren’t for his quick reflexes stabilizing your chair in time. You were blushing mad, and it wasn’t from the shock. He was smirking, and it certainly was from the way your thighs instinctively buckled around his hand—something you became aware of only after your feet had landed on the floor.

“Done with the interrogation?”

He plopped down on his chair and motioned for the worm to come over. It obeyed, wrapping itself first around his leg and then around his torso before nuzzling his neck. They both seemed so content in each other’s presence that your joke felt more like an expression of reality. Toji with a pet—now that’s new.

Putting his question on hold, you stabbed a carrot with a fork and offered it to the creature. “Here, wormie, wormie! Have a treat.”

“Wormie?” Toji quirked a brow.

“Cuter than you calling him Worm,” you imitated his raspy tone.

Wormie glanced at its master for confirmation before opening its mouth and swallowing the carrot along with the fork. You wondered if you’d ever get that back, but were stunned to see Wormie slide from Toji’s shoulder and devour two of the plates like that masked spirit in Spirited Away.

He—taking Toji’s word that Wormie was a male—slithered across the table and stood in front of you with an amicable expression, his lips rounding to emit three little toots that you gladly interpreted as Thank you for the food; it was delicious. My owner is an idiot for missing out.

Begrudgingly, you lifted your hand to pet him, managing a small head pat before Wormie returned to Toji. At least his pet had superior tastes to his—both in women and in food.

“Done now?” You nodded with a faint smile. “Good, ‘cause I’m beat.”

“Wait!” You blurted as soon as he stood up. “I mean, what if that thing has friends?”

“Friends?” Toji echoed with a chuckle. “Scared a curse more popular than you?”

Really lucky, you growled.

“What if… What if they team up against me to exact revenge while I’m asleep?”

“Oh? That’s what scares ya?” He laughed again, and you should’ve known he was up to no good when he answered, “I can fix that.”

“Is this really necessary?”

Your question felt out of place when the two of you were crammed in the sleeper sofa like canned sardines—Toji’s left arm comfortably stretched beneath your head as a pillow, while his other willed your body into a snug, albeit humid, embrace. Summer was hot enough without being subjected to his breath fanning steam onto your neck or having the press of his bare chest against your clothed back, and you were already sold on this being your new sleeping norm.

“You’re the one who didn’t wanna sleep alone,” he gruffed in a tired voice.

In a way, he was right. You were the one who dug her heels in the couch and refused to budge even after he checked every house corner for signs of a demonic presence. Incidentally, you’d also been the one who acted as if you wanted to watch a late-night rerun on TV, promising not to disturb him.

One thing led to another. He put Wormie to sleep by quite literally ingesting him, cracked a soda open, and joined you. Your show ended; a movie began. He stole the remote; you threw a fit. He tossed you his shirt and made room; you slid off your dress and put it on. It smelled of gardenia; it smelled of you.

You stayed.

Any other day of the year, you would have raced to your room and hidden your head under your covers like an ostrich in the sand, yet no place in the world felt safer than his arms, knowing they hadn’t hosted another.

Of course, you weren’t keen to admit that. “I never said that!”

“You didn’t?’ Toji yawned. “Sure sounded like you did. Now zip it and sleep tight.”

Can’t get any tighter than this, you meant to argue, but your will to protest had died out. The first harbingers of dawn started gathering outside as chirping birds at your window ledge, drowning the mournful song of the cicadas. Bless Sakurai and that new part-timer for taking on your early Monday shifts.

You closed your eyes and let yourself be lulled into sleep when a realization shook you to the core. How could he possibly protect you while asleep?

“Would you suit up for my funeral?”

“Woman, one more word, and I’ll feed your ass to Wormie myself.”

You gasped, craning your neck to catch a glimpse of his chiseled yet visibly frustrated profile. “Wormie eats humans?”

“If he doesn’t, I will.” He fastened his arm around your stomach as if to get his threat across.“Shut up while I’m asking nicely, won’t ya?”

Some time passed since you’d last disturbed him, and his breathing evened out into a light snore, a hint of raspiness tingling the shell of your ear. He wasn’t lying about being exhausted, and although you’d spent countless nights sleeping in the same house, not once did you sleep close enough to hear all those little sounds he let out when he was at his most vulnerable.

You wished you had something to record him with, but mostly, you wished your view was that of his face as opposed to the ghost nightlight on the table.

A different version of today’s events replayed in your head, excluding all the harrowing details that haunted you in the night’s darkest hours. The races were fun; you should save money from now on to do that more often. The compliment wouldn’t hurt to accept. The food was amazing, the episode was alright, and his coming to your rescue was something straight out of a movie.

“Toji?” Making sure he was still asleep, you rolled to his side.

You had to brace yourself not to sigh in splendor as your eyes trailed over the unmapped expanse of his body, skimming over every valley and every peak leading down to the defined V-line that seemingly finished miles below the elastic of his sweatpants. You wondered how many kisses it would take to traverse that distance if the starting point was that of his agape lips, the outline of his scar dim between the greenish shadows in the room.

He had no right to look this beautiful. You returned to your old habit of counting rights and wrongs—and at the time, you couldn’t find a single fault to him, but a dozen in you, as you tilted your head and printed a gentle kiss on his lips.

“Thank you.”

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, you were locked in a kiss independent of your own wretched volition, as Toji’s lips branded yours with one of equal gratitude.

“You’re welcome.”

That should’ve been the end of it, but before you had the chance to pass judgment, you followed his lead in closing your eyes and were recaptured by his indelible warmth, lips moving together in sync as if there was something to be gained from each other’s mouth, bit by bit chipping in more than you’d bargained for, so desperate in your game of chance that your hands greedily seized the smallest of earnings.

His long fingers sank deep within your hair while he hiked up your (his) shirt, palm fondling the swell of your breasts without an inch of reservation, and it felt good—it felt bliss; so much better than it did at that hotel and all the other times your mind invented since. He was certain about where and how he wanted to touch you; every other woman he’d ever been with just practice for this moment, and even though he’d never said it out loud, you must’ve known that to be true.

It was always you.

Your hips bucked against his own as Toji squeezed your bodies together, his teeth joining in the action of his tongue as he bit down on your lip, feeling your leg coil tight around his torso and the tap of your heel on his toned back. That was the only way for you to feel him, considering the bandages greatly restricted the movements of your hands, which were awkwardly thrown over his back.

“You’re such a stubborn brat, know that?” He panted, pressing your ass firmly enough for the tent in his pants to poke at your clothed entrance. You nodded, brushing your nose against his. “Tell ya one thing, you do the other. Ask to kiss you, and you gimme your cheek. And now this?” He couldn’t resist slotting his tongue between your lips, pouring all his resentment into one sloppy and heady exchange of spit. “Gonna give ya a reason to thank me all week long.”

You shuddered at his words, attempting to steal his next sentence from his mouth before you were forcibly unlatched and turned the other way, your waist caged by both his arms so that you couldn’t budge.

“Week doesn’t start until tomorrow.” Toji seared a kiss on your nape, prodding the hair out of the way with his nose. “Now let me fucking sleep.”

A/N: so apparently tumblr fucks up posts when the tag list is featured inside the fic, which sucks and that might be the reason why I had to make three posts for this fic to be seen in its respective tags. I’ve tagged those who had to be tagged in the first one of these three posts, but since this chapter is hard ruined, I’ll do the tags on a reblogged version from now on.

this website seriously sucks. here are the two other versions of the exact same thing ._. first and second

you can still comment here if you wanna be tagged on future updates, and sorry for this entire mess ._.

[milstrim]

There is Good in the Dark

Chapter 2---Ever Had an Itch?

AO3 Link

Peter shifted nervously, eyes glancing around in suspicion as he pulled his hood tighter over his head and adjusted the bag looped over his shoulder. His hair had been on end all day, leaving him horribly tired and weary as he'd scoped out a few SHIELD buildings. Tony had said that he'd be doing the same for Squadron Tower, and the teenager had believed him, but he'd seen the billboards while he'd been swinging around the city.

'Elusive Supervillain Iron Man Strikes Against the Squadron Supreme in Manhattan!'

Because of course he'd gone after the Squadron. Peter wasn't sure if the fight had been intentional or not, but it still irked him that the older villain hadn't invited him. He could have helped! He was a great fighter--and didn't Tony trust him?

Peter shook himself, crinkling the plastic bag clutched in his hand nervously as he glanced around once more before slipping down the steps of a boarded off subway station. The stairway quickly faded to dusty darkness that would've stumped anyone else but the teenager peered through easily, icy blue eyes glowing in the shadows.

Every footstep was an echo as the teenager stepped over to a dusty, broken down subway train. Only the front of the train and half a carriage were visible from the tunnel. Windows were broken and paint sprayed in illustrative colors that had worn down from the years in the dark. The door to the head of the train was hinged open into its dark, cramped world.

Peter stepped through, grabbing the lever and pulling it down. When he let go it snapped back up, the base of it glowing blue. Peter stabilized himself, shifting on his feet, as the ground underneath him lit up in a bright blue circle. It twisted with a click, shifting and circling down until the train had disappeared and the teenager stood in a cylindrical high tech elevator. It was the color of bleached bones.

The teenager stepped out of the elevator the moment the doors slid open, finally allowing for his hood to fall off in the safety of his home. Well, more of a secret lair, but it was home to Peter nonetheless. For years with his dad.

"Play it again," echoed a voice only his enhanced ears could hear.

Speaking of.

He tiptoed through the halls of his and Tony's underground mansion, searching for where the man was. There was a lot to search. Most of the home shared the same bone white walls and floors, and he always had to screw up his eyes after a few hours at the brightness of it. Arc reactor blue lights lined the shiny pillars and doorways rather than traditional light placement. All in all the place was eerie, not at all homie, but it was still home.

Following the uneven heartbeat of his dad and the muttered muses of discontentment, Peter finally came across the room Tony was in. He stood in front of a wall of holograms, arms crossed and back straight. His leg tapped like it always did when he didn't understand something.

"Again," Tony ordered, unaware of the kid padding up behind him. Peter glanced at the screen disinterestedly before stopping and staring at the figures displayed on it, his eyes narrowing in confusion. It was all of the world's most wanted, save for him and Tony of course, but--weird. Peter didn't really have words to describe them. Stupidly bright, maybe? Clearly, Tony was having the same problem. "Ever had an itch you just can't scratch?"

"I cannot itch, sir, but watching you refuse to sleep is a close second," Friday responded humorously. Peter smiled, but refrained from laughing, placing a finger to his lips and glancing at the ceiling. Thankfully, the AI didn't say anything.

"Keep the attitude up and I'll give you an itch," Tony warned playfully. "Slow the recording down and play--"

"ATTACK!!!" Peter screeched, shooting up from behind Tony and grabbing him in a mock chokehold. The man froze with a rather unvillainous yelp, practically jumping as he shook the kid off and swung around, a gloved hand shooting out. The teenager grinned as Tony went from tense to practically drooping with relief.

"Kid."

"Hey, Dad. How was the Squadron?"

"Peter, please. I have a heart condition."

He stepped forward, shouldering the older man playfully. "I'm not the one who attacked Earth's defenders today."

"I didn't plan on it."

"Didn't really look that way."

"Well, I didn't," Tony protested. He glanced down at the plastic in Peter's hand. "What's with the bag?"

"Oh." Peter glanced down, lifting it higher. "Dinner! I got Japanese. From a place across from the newest SHIELD hideout."

"Did anyone see you?"

"Nope."

"Great."

Tony ruffled his hair, and Peter ducked away with a displeased grin, dashing towards the table that held Tony's headpiece in the middle of reconstruction, clearly having been damaged during his fight today. The boy set the food down, taking out the cartons of fried rice and the sushi. Tony grabbed his own box, picking up a pair of chopsticks and twirling them around elegantly.

"How'd you pay for this?"

Peter stuffed a piece of sushi in his mouth with his fingers. Tony scrunched his nose up at him in playful disgust. "I took your card."

"No stealing?"

"From a local business? We're villains, not bastards."

Tony laughed and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you act like one. Don't eat sushi with your hands,  you absolute animal."

"I can't figure the chopsticks out! They're too complicated."

"Oh, so you can build a bomb to escape SHIELD when you're ten but you can't eat sushi right?"

"That about sums it up, yeah," Peter quipped, taking a sip from a Gatorade he'd grabbed from a bodega. Tony rolled his eyes humorously. "So what's with the video? Is the Captain joining the US military or something?"

"He does look it," Tony agreed. "But not as far as I know. You know that red stone Mr. Sorcerer-From-Another-Universe has?"

"Uh, yeah? We've been trying to get it for months, Dad. I know what it is."

"Just checking." Peter stuck his tongue out at Tony, who blew a raspberry in response. "Anyway, I hit that thing earlier. It did this."

His adoptive father nodded his head toward the screen. The footage backed up and allowed Peter to watch the recording from the suit as Tony's repulsor blast hit Beck's glowing palm, the red waves that split the sky bursting from it, and the changes that fizzled between the waves. Peter squinted at the screen as the video came to a close.

"What do you think it means?" Peter asked, turning towards the man, who had focused in on the video once more, his face deceptively calculating.

"That's the itch," he pointed out, staring at the screen for another moment. "Quiz Time." Peter groaned, stuffing another piece of sushi in his mouth rebelliously. "Relax your teenage angst, kid, it's not bad. Hulk?"

"Radiation experiment gone wrong," he said immediately as if reading off a flashcard. "An attempt on what made the Captain, well, the Captain, by Bruce Banner. Dr. Banner's gone now that the Hulk's overtaken him. He's not smart, less wanted for villainy and more the destruction he causes and what he can provide militaries. Danger level: High."

"Black Widow."

"Superspy gone rogue. SHIELD tried to contain her but she killed every agent sent her way. No known motives but can take down countries overnight. Danger level: High."

"The Falcon."

"Deranged war hero. Was sent on an unknown suicide mission with his friend, he survived and the friend didn't. Motives are mostly against US military missions--good for him--and warmongering politicians. Danger level: Medium."

"Thor."

"A badass."

Tony gave him a look. "Try again."

Peter sighed. "A Norse God thrown out from his home with a super cool hammer. No known motives, likes to start shit. Danger level: Super-mega-ultra high."

His dad rolled his eyes with a crooked smile. "Hawkeye."

"A circus runaway. SHIELD attempted to recruit him but he betrayed them. Targets SHIELD, gangs, and wherever he can get a quick buck. Danger level: Meh."

"And the Captain."

"The creation of Howard Stark and Dr. Abraham Erskine. He was meant to be the Allies' savior, but he defected to Hydra. He ended up frozen in ice for like a million years before being thawed out by SHIELD and breaking away from Hydra. There's only been three confirmed sightings of him over five years. No known motives. Danger level: High."

"Good job, you passed. Barely."

"Barely!?"

Tony raised an eyebrow at him, waving a finger accusingly. "Stop fanboying over Thor. He could kill you in an instant."

"Pshh. I could take him."

"No you couldn't."

"Or I could just woo him into being my new dad. It worked with you."

Tony gasped, placing a hand over his arc reactor. "You little--" He cut himself off, fake offended. "You're a little shit, I hope you know that."

"I know, Dad," Peter laughed, bumping into him gently. Tony rolled his eyes, graciously pulling the teenager into a half-hug. "So, what are we gonna do about Fashion's Most Wanted?"

"I've got a theory. And a plan."

"Really. A whole plan?"

"Ehhh, 12% of a plan."

Peter huffed, "Fun. When do we start?"

    A dark figure was crouched, held tight against a building. A deep black and red shield was clenched on their arm, its shine the only thing visible in the night. Steve Rogers was a professional of stealth, accustomed to the ebony and arctic of the night.

Footsteps echoed in the emptiness of the building, and Steve tensed by the doorway where he was flattened against the dark bricks, his shield at the ready. A shadow in the night, he stood completely still until a figure stepped innocently through the door. Quick as a rattlesnake and silent as a mouse, he struck.

The man toppled. Steve caught him before he thudded to the ground, dragging him across the dirty cement and slipping the SHIELD agent behind a dumpster. He didn't bother to tie him up. Steve knew he'd be quick enough.

The Captain shifted through the doorway, every footstep light, and into the dusty light. As best he could, the soldier stuck to the shadows, thankful for the way the lights dimmed and flickered. The SHIELD building was old, but its information invaluable. The thought of what he might find spurred him forward to where the hallway was even brighter.

People were in that hallway. Two. They talked importantly, voices low, towards Steve. He ducked behind the doorway and out of the yellow light that shone from the hall, drawing his shield off of his forearm with a metallic sheen. He took a step forward, his maroon boot interrupting the golden light and the women's conversation.

They froze, looking up at him in terror before drawing guns from their hips. They didn't catch more than a glimpse of him before he'd thrown the shield. It bounced off the floor and zoomed around the ceiling. The dark red and black took the light with it as it shrouded the hallway in darkness. It returned to Steve seamlessly.

"We know you're there," came a voice. "Show yourself."

Silent, he threw the shield again. There were two thuds against the ground.

Steve dashed through the hall. And he brawled through the building.

Every hallway was the same. Agents, unaware and caught by surprise, left in the darkness and alone as he took the cameras out with his shield as well. Bodies dropped, gunshots flew, and in every room Steve was left unscathed. His reputation--the myth, a whisper, unknown--was well earned.

In barely six minutes, every floor had been cleared. Almost every floor.

The Captain slipped into the hallway of the last floor, leaving the dark and chalky stairway behind. The hallway itself was almost as dark as the stairwell, save for the light that trickled from underneath a closed door. He stalked closer, footsteps light and shield outstretched threateningly. He stopped outside the door and waited, listening to the murmured voices.

"...what was with that energy surge in New York?"

"Nobody knows. News cameras were wiped, all they showed was Iron Man wreaking havoc."

"Smart. A controlled narrative. Then again, that's all the world is now," snipped a voice. Steve furrowed his brows, searching for where he recognized it, but nothing was found. "Any news on the kid?"

"He's been at the fake SHIELD bases in New York, but the illusion's only been up for a few weeks. All things considered, he's been pretty tame. No burglaries or break-ins like the other 'villains.'"

"He knows?"

"We broke free," the woman responded as an answer. Her voice was familiar too.

"We weren't on Earth when it happened," the man argued.

"But the illusion still doesn't affect us while we're here."

"Well, at the very least, whatever happened effects him less than the others."

Steve's thoughts were racing, confused and trying to keep up with uncontextualized conversation. Illusion? Not on Earth? And what kid? Most strangely, his heart gave a painful tug at the mention of Iron Man, and he didn't know why. It almost hurt. Scratch that, it did hurt.

The super soldier shook his head, breaking free of the thoughts. His eyes flashed icy blue. He just had to get what he'd come here for and leave... What had he come here for? He furrowed his brows. There'd been a reason, he remembered he'd cared a lot about it, but now that he was here--the Captain was strangely lost.

He took a step back, hesitated, and then barreled through the door.

The metal hinges crunched underneath his force, creaking and groaning loudly but unable to cover the sound of guns clicking to action. He raised his shield to his face, crouching behind it for a moment as gunfire rained, clinking off of the metal harmlessly. There was a panicked yell of, "Fall back, Fury!!"

Steve threw his shield in the direction of the yell, diving behind a pile of crates at the familiar motion of the vibranium jumping from his forearm. It bounced with a schwing! knocking down the woman and zipping back to him. It sliced into a crate just above him, and he plucked it off of the splintered wood.

A gun cocked. Steve dared a glance around the crates.

The man was tall, dark, and intimidating. The way he held himself told Steve all he needed to know about what he could do, forcing him to duck behind the crates again in caution. He readjusted his shield with two thoughts: This man is dangerous, and, This man is familiar.

He didn't appreciate either of them.

"Steve?" the man dared, his voice hard. "If that's you I swear to God when we get out of this I'm taking that shiny shield of yours."

Steve hesitated. "You know me?"

"Yeah. You know me?"

His eyes flashed blue. His voice turned robotic. "You're Nick Fury, head of SHIELD. Tyrant do-gooder."

"Sure. I'll take it. Do you know who you are?"

The blue in his eyes dimmed to its natural darker color, warm instead of icy. Confusion, but not quite realization. "The Captain. And I'm here for something, so if you don't mind--"

"I mind," Fury interrupted. "What are you doing in Ireland, Rogers?"

"A mission."

"On what?"

"None of your concern," he answered shortly. He wished he knew.

"See, I think--"

Steve didn't think anymore. He swung out an arm and his shield flew off. There were gunshots, slowing the shield off of its course as Fury dived. The soldier jumped, gripping the shield as it bounced back, landing atop Fury. He buried a heavy foot on the man's leg, holding his shield out, ready for the fire of Fury's gun pointed upward.

Fury licked his lips. His words serious, his tone daring. "Are you gonna kill me, Rogers?"

The Captain stared down, his eyes narrowed. Killing Fury would be logical. SHIELD was his enemy. SHIELD was the enemy. All the missions, all the years spent fighting and tracking--the Director of SHIELD was the endgame... Wasn't he?

Fury took his silence as an answer.

"If you are, I'd hold off for a minute." The man nodded towards his left. Steve glanced.

There was a screen, portraying Iron Man, a bright explosion behind him. The video shifted, waves of red and blurred figures hidden from clear view. He squinted. Another tug, confused and--

Lonely.

"We're counting on you, Rogers."

"You shouldn't."

Against everything he'd ever known, Steve stepped off the man, lowering his SHIELD. Fury opened his mouth to say something, but whatever it was, he didn't stick around to find out. The only traces that Steve had ever been there was an open window on the seventh floor and the two high-level SHIELD personnel he'd left alive for some reason still unknown to him.

    A duffel bag thumped against the floor next to a cheap hotel bed. The springs of the mattress creaked as Steve sat down on it, running a hand through his tussled, damp hair and clicking on the news on the fizzled old television. The shower had been refreshing, but not relaxing. There were still so many questions left unanswered, leaving the man more exhausted than he'd ever been. His whole body ached with confusion and that haunting feeling of loneliness that had tugged when Iron Man had been mentioned.

The feeling had died down some since he'd escaped from the SHIELD base a few hours ago, but it had yet to be smothered, and despite how much it hurt, Steve was grateful.

He didn't know how long exactly, but everything had felt murky for a while. Distracting. Foggy clouds of muddled memories and feelings and motivations. Why had he gone to that SHIELD base? Why did he go to any SHIELD base? Why did he let Nick Fury go? Why did he avoid his home in favor of destroying people and places he didn't know?

There were answers, but they weren't the ones that he wanted.

He went to SHIELD bases because they were the enemy, Hydra had taught him that. And he didn't go back to Brooklyn because the entirety of the United States was prepped to kill him. But why?

Why be loyal to Hydra? Why hurt others who didn't deserve it in the slightest?

His head told him everything Hydra had ever told him, his life had ever told him, about loyalty and values and justice--but his gut said different.

"...another warrant and surge of military power has been shifted to deal with the threat of Iron Man," commented a news reporter, catching the soldier's attention. Steve looked up from where his face had been pressed into his clamped hands to stare at the television. The pang that had been fading gave another strong tug as a picture of Tony Stark was flashed on screen. "This comes just after the villain's most recent attack on the city of New York and the world's mightiest heroes, the Squadron Supreme."

Steve almost laughed. The public worship of the Squadron Supreme never failed to amuse and baffle him. Their name was particularly dreadful.

"Mysterio, also known as Quentin Beck, Earth's resident sorcerer from another realm, assured the public in a call with the White House earlier today, that in response they will take more whale methods to assure this detrimental threat is taken care of. Here is a clip of that call."

The screen changed. In the middle was black, ready for the transcript of the call, while on either side of the screen sat the dignified faces of the president and the sorcerer.

"As the head of the Squadron Supreme," the president started. "What are your plans to fix this blight on our peaceful American ideal?"

"Certainly the team is still conferring, as we don't operate on just one view, but the general consensus is to get to Stark before he can start attacking anywhere or anywhere else."

"Will that work?"

"It will," Beck assured. "My team is the best there is, and Stark is barely anything. We've been holding back, trying to exercise some tolerance and take him in so that he may face the justice of your great world, but I believe we've reached the point where his danger is too great and there can no longer be any doubt on taking him out." Steve's eyes narrowed in anger. He paused, confused at the defensive response, before shaking his head and tuning back in. "This goes for a lot of other terrorists that have been so graciously tolerated."

The president let out a shocked yet dismissive huff. "You can't possibly expect to take down all of the Most Wanted."

"Within the week, I can promise you that, Mr. President. Starting with Iron Man and all the way to even the Captain."

There was a noise as the president moved to say something, but the last of the clip was cut off, returning to the news anchors. Steve muted the television, staring at the wall above the crackling box. His brows furrowed. He just-- he didn't understand.

The TV flashed, catching his attention. Steve glanced back down, his heart skipped a beat at the image on screen. It was Iron Man and Spider-Man. It was a photo of the two, clearly taken while they had been attacking something or other. Stark's mask was off, showing off his shiny blue eyes and dazzlingly sharp smile. Spider-Man's mask was on, but the man's posture told him everything he needed to know. He was excited, and he was safe, even with guns pointed at him.

Stark and Spider-Man were a family, and, looking at them on screen, a little bit of his lost feeling was taken away.

Steve glanced down at his bag and then back at the television. Quick footed, he grabbed it and left without another word, searching for the first flight to New York.

// Ch 1 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8 //

[madsthewordclown]

Fire Lily Pt. 1

warnings: none

Eventual Zuko x Reader, ~1500 words

summary: Y/N has been on the run for months, and is making her way to Ba Sing Se for a new beginning. Meanwhile, she struggles to remain undetected and hide her secret from her newfound friends, while struggling to hide the truth from herself. 

This is my first ever series!! I’m a bit nervous, and I have to warn you that my updates might not be very frequent. I’m finally back to in-person classes, but I’m hoping to update more over my winter break!

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 |

“Bihun, stop it!” Y/N giggled as her brother chased her around the garden. Their mother watched on as she stood on the steps, smiling at her children. Y/N and Bihun stumbled to ground, giggling up at the clouds. A man in green and yellow robes walked out of the house, his mustache and beard unable to hide his scowl.

“Papa, papa, papa!” Bihun laughed, running to grab on to the man’s legs. Y/N’s father gave a weak smile and patted Bihun on the head.

“I need to speak to your mother, son. You stay out here and play, and Sava will fetch you when it’s time for dinner.”

Y/N watched her mother stand up, and she looked a little sad as she followed her father.

“Race you to the panda lilies!” Bihun yelled, and Y/N got up to chase him, not looking back at where her parents had been standing.

“Where are you from, pretty lady?” A greasy-looking man asked.

“Omashu,” Y/N answered sweetly. No one asked questions if you were from Omashu. “I’ll give you 3 bronze pieces for that bread.” She wasn’t one to bargain with random strangers, usually, but her stomach was twisting from the lack of food. She’d traveled two days on foot from her last village to get to Full Moon Bay, and the bread looked good.

“Only if you give me your name, too,” the man grinned. Y/N held back a grimace.

“Nama,” Y/N lied. It was the name on her fake papers. Y/N felt the lightness of her coin pouch as she exchanged the coins for the bread. She had paid an arm and a leg for those papers.

“Fuang,” the man introduced himself.

“I’ve gotta go,” Y/N interrupted before he could continue, and didn’t wait before walking away, getting in the end of a long line in front of the passport attendant’s podium. She watched as the crotchety old woman sent away a pregnant woman and her partner. Suddenly, the forgery she had purchased seemed a lot less convincing. Either way, she was out of options. Ba Sing Se was the only safe place left.

“Passport!” The attendant yelled when Y/N finally reached the front of the line. Her bread was gone—she had somehow managed to eat the whole small loaf while waiting. She cursed herself for not rationing it. She didn’t have that much money left.

Y/N handed her papers to the attendant and held her breath. The old woman squinted at the document, before taking out a large stamp and loudly slamming it down on top of the paper. She pulled out a ticket and handed it to Y/N along with her passport.

“NEXT!” The woman yelled, and Y/N quickly shuffled out of line. No turning back now, Y/N thought as she got ready to board the ferry. Ba Sing Se would be a new start. Ba Sing Se could be a permanent home.

It turned out that ferries weren’t overly comfortable. Y/N sat on the ground, leaning her back against the edge of the boat. The boat was packed with refugees, all of them looking just like her—dirty, hungry, and exhausted—but she recognized the little sliver of hope in their eyes, and knew it was reflected in her own. She wondered how far some of these people had traveled.

“Hey.”

Y/N looked up. A scrappy-looking boy about her age was standing above her, chewing on a blade of wheat grass.

“Hi,” Y/N responded cautiously. The boy seemed to sense her tension.

“I’m Jet,” he introduced himself. “Over there,” he motioned to a group off to your left, “are my friends, Longshot and Smellerbee. We’re the Freedom Fighters. Want to come over and join us?”

“I’m okay,” Y/N answered curtly, “but thank you.” Y/N had learned the hard way that you couldn’t just trust anyone.

“I understand,” Jet said, nodding knowingly. “It’s hard to know who to trust. You’re always welcome if you change your mind.” Y/N swore she saw the boy wink at her as he walked away.

Y/N couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was her nerves, or the hard wood floor of the boat, or the gentle rocking from the water, but her eyes refused to stay closed. She had half a mind to be paranoid about having her things stolen. She would’ve liked to believe more in the goodwill and kindness of her fellow passengers, but they were desperate. She knew what being desperate was like.

She checked her pack to make sure it still had all of its contents. A small knife, her map, a miserably light coin pouch, and a small golden chalice from home, which she hoped would be enough to secure a bed in Ba Sing Se.

Y/N looked up, sensing movement. She watched as two shadows moved through the darkness of the ship. I shouldn’t, Y/N thought to herself. She couldn’t afford to get in more trouble.

Y/N once again tried to get some sleep, to no avail. It seemed some other passengers were also struggling, and the ones who had managed to get some shut eye were restless, murmuring and shaking in their sleep. It made her shudder to think of the things they must have seen before they had arrived in the Bay.

Only a few minutes had passed before Y/N saw the shadowed figures once again. Jet. As the figures came into the light, she saw the defining arched brows and wheat grass hanging from his lip. And she could smell the food.

Jet and another boy were handing out food to the other passengers from large sacks that were stuffed full. She hadn’t even been able to stomach what they were served earlier, and since she was a lone traveler, she had gotten the scraps that were left after everyone else was served. The smell of food was almost overwhelming. Y/N felt her stomach growl as the two boys approached.

“Hello, again,” Jet said as he and the other boy finally reached her. The boy he was with had dark hair and a large scar over his eye—it looked like a burn. It made Y/N’s stomach twist, knowing what must have left that there. Firebenders.

“Hey, Jet,” Y/N responded. She eyed his bag of food. “Where did you happen on all of this?”

“What’s important is that we have it.” It wasn’t an answer, but she supposed she wasn’t one to ask questions. “I didn’t catch your name last time.”

“Y/N.” You held out your hand for him to take, and he shook it. “Who’s your friend?” You nodded to the other boy, who seemed to be giving you a grouchy glare.

“This is Lee,” Jet responded for him. “He’s traveling with his uncle, Mushi.” Jet motioned to a rather rotund old man with an impressive grey beard, who was chowing down from a bowl they must have given him.

“Hi,” Lee greeted. It seemed he wasn’t one for words.

“My offer still stands,” Jet said, smirking at you, “if you’d like to come over and join us.”

She really didn’t have a reason not to, Y/N realized. She wouldn’t have to run once they were off that ferry. And she had to admit she was getting tired of traveling alone.

“Sure,” she answered finally, and Jet smiled, helping her up with one hand. The scowl never left Lee’s face.

Jet led the way over to where Mushi was sitting. As they approached, a kid stormed away, followed by a boy with a bow slung over his shoulder. Mushi seemed to be trying to apologize for something, but quickly forgot his troubles when he saw Y/N approaching with Jet and Lee.

“Who’s this?” Mushi asked, grinning despite the food still stuck in his teeth. Y/N didn’t miss the raise of his eyebrow and fought down her blush at the implication as Mushi looked between her and his nephew.

“This is Y/N,” Lee said flatly. “She’s Jet’s friend.” Y/N felt like pointing out that they had only just met, but maybe this wasn’t the time.

As they sat down, Jet handed both her and Lee bowls of rice and roast duck. Y/N dug in right away, while Lee picked politely at his food.

“From what I’ve heard, people eat like this every night in Ba Sing Se. I can’t wait to set my eyes on that giant wall.” Jet said, tilting his eyes up to look at the stars overhead.

“It is a magnificent sight,” Mushi chuckled in agreement.

“So, you’ve been there before?” Y/N couldn’t help but ask. She had no clue what to expect in Ba Sing Se—all anyone ever talked about was the strength of its wall, and the safety it provided.

“Once.” Mushi wasn’t seeing them anymore, looking through the faces in front of him at some long-distant memory. “When I was a different man.”

“I’ve done some things that I’m not proud of,” Jet admitted. He turned, looking at Y/N. “But that’s why I’m going to Ba Sing Se: for a new beginning. A second chance.” Y/N smiled warmly at him.

“That’s very noble of you,” Mushi told him, before turning and giving his attention to his nephew. “I believe that people can change their lives if they want to. I believe in second chances.”

Pt.1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | Pt. 5

[ashkazora]

Lance would be cancelled for perpetuating bisexual/latino stereotypes, Keith- "How dare you support and lead a Galra only organization? Colonizer! Racist! Allura- "How dare you do not support a Galra only organization! Monarch! Racist!" Hunk got cancelled for saying something that's taken way out of context. Coran is cancelled for doing nfts (he did not, it was a picrew). Pidge is cancelled for a twitter feud she had years ago, while Shiro for being "Cop"-coded and not being Japanese enough

LMAO anon you're spot on. Here's some other things too;

Lance: also cancelled for not being 'latino' enough, colonialism when he jokes about planting flags of his face on planets, and bestiality for going after certain species of aliens. Cancelled further for harassing women by flirting.

Keith: is half-galra therefore is inherently a coloniser and terrorist and must repay for the Galra's actions. Also cancelled for being in the Blade of Marmora therefore supporting Galra suprematist ideals and racist for staying in a segregated organisation.

Allura: Is a princess therefore a dirty monarchist and supporter of capitalism. Also is cancelled for being racist to the Galra and not doing enough to uplift the voices of her fellow oppressed alien leaders.

Shiro: cancelled for being a former Galra arena fighter and killing others, as well as 'acting out' due to his PTSD and being a bad white gay. Is accessed of being plain cop-aganda and pro-military because he went and represented the Galaxy Garrison.

Hunk: cancelled for not uplifting women in STEM - more specifically Pidge - more often.

Pidge: is accused of faking being trans for woke points because of her infiltration into the Garrison therefore mocking the community. Also cancelled for slurs she said on twitter 5 years ago.

Coran: cancelled for being a ranga.

Of course, every single one of them would be cancelled for being war criminal, child soldiers, and constant violators of the Geneva convention so-

[conaionaru]

Woman’s game (Ivar the Boneless/Hvitserk)

The other shoe drops

Synopsis: Ivar leaves and Skuld is in mortal danger

Warnings: violence, slow descent into insanity, angst

The next morning, Skuld woke up early to buy wood ash soap while Ivar got ready for his departure. "Skuld!"

Queen Aslaug stood behind her and stared her down like a predator stalking its prey. "Yes, Your Grace?"

"Let's take a walk." She took the earl's daughter by the hand and led her away from the common folk to the Great Hall's steps. "Tell me what you think you are doing?"

"I am buying wood ash soap. I want to bleach my hair. I am sure it would drive Mother mad when she returns. And I think I would make a pretty blonde." Skuld teased charmingly, trying to ease the tension around them.

Aslaug scoffed and clenched Skuld's hand tighter. To the eyes of the other's, they might have seemed like two bonding women instead of rivals. "That is not what I mean, and you know it. I can see when a person is smarter than they pretend to be. You, for instance, are far more intelligent than you let on."

"Is this about Ivar, My Queen?" She fluttered her eyelashes innocently, a mischievous spark hidden in her eyes.

"Of course, it is." They continued their walk inside, Aslaug sitting down on her throne to seem more powerful. It was just like Ylva scolding her children while sharpening her weapons, a power move. "What are your intentions?"

"I assure you, I mean no harm to Ivar."

"Then why are the thralls walking around town talking of what you two do in bed? Margrethe is buying moon tea for you, and everyone signs your praise. They think him a monster."

"They gossip as women tend to do when bored. I ordered Margrethe to do a task for me; what she did after is not my fault. I am as angry as you are. No one should know what happens in anyone's bed. That is between the lovers themselves."

Aslaug scoffed and leaned closer to seize Skuld up. "So you and Ivar are really lovers... It is not just a rumor?"

Skuld strode up the steps, smiling at Aslaug reassuringly. "I swear I mean no harm to Ivar. He intrigued me with his sharp mind and tongue. I enjoy his company, any form he is willing to offer me. Everything I did was out of curiosity and affection. I can't claim to love him yet, but I care for him and his happiness - his wellbeing."

Kneeling at Aslaug's side, she took her hand in hers and looked up with vulnerable eyes. Whispering the secret, she wanted none to hear. "It is like he bewitched me. I can't sleep without him near, and every time I hear him laugh or see him smile... It's as if I finally found meaning for what I am meant to be."

Aslaug nodded and smiled at her. "That is good; Ivar deserves a nice woman. After what lies Margrethe spread before..."

"If I could do anything to make those rumors stop..."

"Leave that to me. Go along now. You have hair to bleach." She sent her off with a smile. Skuld walked away and sighed in satisfaction. The whole Aslaug is a threat thing was solved easily. Margrethe did as she was bid, thinking she was saving her own skin, only to help Skuld.

When Ivar arrived at the docks to depart, he looked at her strangely. "What happened to your hair?"

"Don't you like my hair, Ivar? Don't you think I am pretty anymore?" She teased; the blush on his cheeks was proof enough of the answer. He liked it but was too prideful to admit it, especially in front of his brothers and father. "I wish you good fortune on your journey. May you come back victorious and well."

"So you will not forget about me while I am away?" The truth was, she would probably sleep with somebody in secret, but he doesn't need to know that. She was a woman with needs, and gods know when he will return.

"Oh Ivar, how could I ever forget a man like you? You gave me many things to remember you by. And when they fade... I will pray for your return day and night." He smirked at the answer and turned to leave, the new crutches making him taller. It was strange to look into his eyes without having to crouch or kneel.

He fell soon after but crawled on, not showing a hint of pain or humiliation. Cripple or not, the man was truly remarkable. When he departed, Skuld pretended to watch him leave like a lovesick girl.

Flocking people at her side wasn't so hard. She complimented the merchants at the stand and bought gifts for people. Smiling at children and helping older people carry things was another approach she used. Within a week, she was loved by the people. Her room was always full of young girls that complimented her and played dress-up with her.

They plaided flowers in their hair and gossiped of the boys they liked. Whenever they asked her of Ivar, she pretended to tear up or just gave them minimal information. How good of a lover he is, how he may seem evil or rude but is very affectionate when alone with her. Some things were true; others were complete lies. After all, she couldn't say that he choked her in bed and she liked it.

They walked through the town, hands full of expensive fabrics to have dresses made from. Giggling with every step, Skuld looked back at the girls behind her and smiled. "Imagine all the fabrics and gold from the new land Bjorn wants to explore. All those pretty things and alcohol they might bring back."

"And all the pretty male thralls!" They laughed out in glee. Skuld looked back in front of her so she won't trip but was met with a shieldmaiden with a strange shield.

"Come with me." The tall brunette ordered, glaring at her with a harsh tone.

"And why would I do that? I don't even know you. Who asks for me?"

"The Queen does."

Skuld looked at the shield and shook her head. "That is not the seal of Ragnar Lothbrok."

"It's Lagertha's!" One of the girls that followed her called out in realization. Before Skuld could process the information, the shieldmaiden snatched her by the arm and dragged her away.

As Skuld was thrown over the woman's shoulder and carried off, she could see people fighting. Lagertha infiltrated the city to take over as Queen. Maybe Gunne was right, and she really needed the dagger after all.

So she pulled in out from her cleavage and slit the shieldmaiden's throat. The dead woman fell to the ground, and Skuld climbed off her to run to safety. Someone grabbed her from behind and tried to wrench the weapon from her hands.

The girl slammed her head against the attacker's face a few times till the grip loosened. She slipped free and stabbed the warrior in the chest. With a grunt, she pulled the dagger out. Someone hit her over the head with a shield, and she hit the floor, groaning. It wasn't enough to knock her out, but enough to make her stop fighting.

They dragged her to an empty house and threw her in like a dirty rag. "Stay here and wait!" Skuld sprung from the ground and glared at them, seething. She ran for the door but was pushed back easily.

"You will pay in blood for this! You and your stupid Queen!" They slammed the door in her face and left her in the darkness.

Skuld marched up and down the hut, cursing under her breath. "They left me here, and now look what happened. I will gouge out her eyes and make her stupid lover watch."

She repeated the last sentence, like a mantra and prayed to the gods for guidance and strength. Walking holes into the floor proved futile, so she sat down with her back against the wall and glaring at the door. "They will probably try to punish me for killing those shieldmaidens. Let them try."

The hut was small, one-room max with no furniture or window, obviously meant as a prison cell. She could feel hay under her ass and the cold bite of winter on her cheeks. Her eyes never left the door, the deafening silence around her suffocating. Twisting the ring on her finger, Skuld stared the door down with determination.

"All this time buttering up Aslaug and Ivar, and in the end, it was Ragnar Lothbrok's ex-wife that got to me. Hjordis would laugh at my foolishness." She chuckled and leaned her head against the cold hardwood. Closing her eyes, she took deep breaths to calm her anger. Lashing out now would do Skuld no good; she needs to save her energy so she can fight back when they open that door.

Her eyes snap open, and she smirks in glee. Pulling herself up on all four and search the ground for something. "Weapooon, where are youu?" Other than a pair of chains in the opposite corner, Skuld found nothing. Even those were useless; strangling someone with them would require her, pulling them closer to the bolts. Too much work and doing that would mean a struggle.

The blonde sighed and leaned her head back against the wall. She let her head fall into her hands and tapped her foot against the floor. The flow of time was hard to keep up with in here. She could be in here for an hour or maybe only half. There was no way to tell. So she tried counting instead.

"One, two, three, four, five..."

Drawing was fun when she was small and the coal from England new, when all she could do was doodle runes and flowers, now when she was thirteen, it wasn't so exciting. But the boys were training in the yard, and she didn't want to be a shieldmaiden.

She liked herself more like this; in her family, everyone was a fighter covered in dirt with bad manners. Despite being an Earl, even her mother didn't spend time on her looks until it was really necessary. So Skuld did her best to look as good as possible.

Mother had no problem buying her anything she wanted, what she wanted that she got. A smile here, a whine there, hug, fake tears, and she had the prettiest dresses within a week. Egil always complained that she was a spoiled little brat, but Skuld was more of a princess. Earl's daughter or not, she was made for royalty and ruling.

All the women told her that she was beautiful and graceful. She deserved to be pampered and complimented. Who else out there was as perfect as her? Beauty was her dagger to wield, less messy than the real thing. A courteous smile and sweet words, and everyone ate out of her hand.

The other girls in Yugar flocked around her like meek little sheep, trying to gain her attention and friendship. You say they look pretty or that you like them, and like naive children, they believe every word. Mother always said it was dangerous to live in a perfect world; it was a nasty place filled with greedy and stupid people. It's your decision on which side you want to be on.

Her brothers were the stupid ones, running after girls, fighting, burping, and farting to make themselves laugh. Their mother, on the other hand, was smart, which meant she was greedy. After all, she was an Earl and ruled the people easily. Skuld was greedy, too; she wanted to hold power as well. So ambition would be her other dagger, this one sharper and more fatal.

"Skuld! Come watch Egil make a fool of himself!" With glee, the girl shot from her spot on her mother's throne and run outside to watch Egil fail at flirting.

"Five hundred and thirty-eighth, five hundred and thirty-nine..."

She sighed and banged her head against the wall once. Daggers... That's what she needed, real daggers to carve out the shieldmaiden's hearts. Beauty and ambition would do her naught now. What would she do? Try to seduce the forty-year-old mother or her loyal lover? Maybe some of her shieldmaidens. Undressing always made people speechless, mostly because they didn't expect it. But women still fared better. It was the man that lost all common sense when their cocks got hard.

Women just crossed their legs, scowled, and talked. That's when sweet-talking came in handy, and by morning they were laying naked beside her. But that wouldn't work on the usurpers. Real weapons would serve better.

Again she hit her head against the wall and watched the ceiling. If there was some light in here, she could at least watch the shadows there. But the room was one huge shadow on itself. All she could see was darkness and her own bright dress and hair.

Her hand throbbed as she picked at the fresh scabs of her bloody knuckles. Skuld had hit the door in her rage as if she could beat it down. It didn't work; all it did was make her angrier and tired. Oh, so tired. She could sleep and hope to wake up in her own bed at home, instead of a small dark cell. The more time passed, the smaller the room seemed to her. With one last bang against the wall, she slumped down to sleep, bored of the world around her.

In her dreams, she was back at home, five or four, sitting in her father's lap as he sat on his high seat, ordering people around. Mother always said he was soft, which made him stupid and unjust. He got swayed easily, but on the battlefield, he was invincible. Well, he used to be. Until he got beheaded in Frankia,  he got no burial, the boat they burned was empty, maybe he was in Valhalla, perhaps not.

She could care less, barely remembering his face or voice. Sometimes, in her dreams or memories, Skuld sad his fair hair and a small beard. Othertimes he had no face, just a blank head. She never looked above his neck. Why should she? The sigh of the kneeling people in front of him was prettier. She imagined herself in his place, what she would have done. But never came up with an answer. What was the point anyway?

The dead were dead, and she was alive for now. The past was an anchor tying you to the realm of reality so that you wouldn't get lost in the clouds. But right now, she wanted to fly the highest she had ever been. Far away from all this bullshit. The furthest distance away from this hut that probably had spiders and rats hidden inside. Away from the shrinking walls and haunting darkness. She was Skuld Ylvasdottir. The only daughter of Ylva the Brave, Earl of Yugar, the Lioness.

Skuld was a lion as well, a cub, but a lion nonetheless. She wouldn't beg them to let her out. Instead, she would scream her throat hoarse and spit blood on them if needed. Lions aren't afraid of anything, not the dark or death itself. "When I get out, they will no longer call me a naive child or lion cub. I am a woman, vengeful, and ambitious.

[creative-hanyou-girl]

The Witch’s Daughter (Pt.2)

Now with a cover!!!!

Disclaimer: I do not own InuYasha/Yahahime or any of its characters. All InuYasha characters belong to Rumiko Takahashi, Sunrise, and Viz media.

Genre: Family/Romance/Angst

Rated: Teen (for some cussing and depictions of violence)

A/N: First off, I want to give a big fat “Thank You” to all of you guys who left likes and reviews and for reblogging the 1st chapter of The Witch’s Daughter! I am so sorry for the long wait. A lot of stuff happened over the holidays and beyond that, and college has kept me pretty busy too. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and I’ll try to be quicker with the next one!!!

I should also say that while Touga holds both these titles in the story, in this universe, the title of Emperor is not the same as the title of Inu no Taisho.

Emperor: Ruler over the people, responsible for governing the country; Sesshomaru to be successor.

Inu no Taisho: Commander and General of all armed forces, literally translating to “Great Dog General”; InuYasha to be successor.

(trust me, knowing the difference is important.)

Chapter One 

FF.Net 

With that said, on with Chapter Two!

Chapter Two

Swinging the sword in his grip at a downward angle, Lord and General InuYasha huffed in satisfaction. His sparring partner and friend, Miroku, had his own weapon knocked out of his hands as a result of the half dog-demon’s offensive maneuver, the force of the technique even toppling the human man over to land on his butt.

Scenting the approaching threat from behind, InuYasha whirled around smoothly, his blade clashing thunderously with the sword that was about to come down on him. 

This time facing off against his rival and soldier, a wolf-demon named Kouga, the two demons went at each other fiercely, weapons clashing and clanging loudly and violently at speeds that’d be impossible for a human to achieve no matter how skilled a swordsman they were. Sparks flew as the two sparring men met each other’s attacks with vigour.

Miroku, seeing an opening, grabbed his own sword and went to attack the young dog-eared general. Rushing at his seemingly unsuspecting target, Miroku’s blue eyes widened in alarm when InuYasha ducked, hunching his broad shoulders and back forward to avoid Kouga’s blade coming at him from the side. The human soldier couldn’t stop himself fast enough, resulting in him barreling atop his Lord’s back, only for said Lord to adjust his movements in order to have Miroku’s slightly smaller frame roll over the curve of his spine. 

Kouga had no time to react before his fellow soldier rammed into his stomach, losing his grip on his own sword as both he and Miroku toppled over in a heap not too gently on the marble floor. 

The two soldiers looked up at their General as he aimed his trusty blade, the Tessaiga, to be level with their eyes.

InuYasha smirked triumphantly down at his fallen comrades, his golden amber eyes dancing with victory, before swiftly shelving Tessaiga in its sheath and offering a clawed hand out to Miroku. 

Grinning and shaking his head, the human male accepted, the two friends collapsing hands as the demon lord pulled the dark-haired man up before collapsing his shoulder good-naturedly. 

Kouga grouchily climbed to his own feet once Miroku was off him, crossing his arms as he scowled at his rival, “How the Hell do you always manage to one-up us every time, dog-turd? Call me crazy, but I’d think you were playin’ dirty!”

InuYasha glared right back, “There ain’t no such thing as playing dirty on the battlefield, wolf-boy. You know that as well as I do; when you're out there facing a shit-ton of soldiers tryin’ ta lop your head off, ya don’t got the luxury of playin’ fair!”  

“Yeah well the wolf tribes know to fight with honor, unlike you and your sad excuse of an army, General,” Kouga retorted, emphasizing the word ‘general��� in a demeaning, sarcastic tone.

The aforementioned general growled, shoving his snarling face into Kouga’s, his large, clawed hand cracking as he stretched the tendons in a threatening gesture. 

He and Kouga had never gotten along ever since the wolf-demon was enlisted to serve under the Inu no Taisho’s armed forces, only to be surprised and furious when he found that the Emperor’s youngest son, a half-breed, had already taken charge of many of the imperial forces, as he was set to succeed his father in becoming the next Inu no Taisho. Under that position, he’d serve under the next Emperor, his brother, as the commander of all of their Empire’s armed forces, leading himself and his men into the battlefields while the Emperor governs the rest of the country.   

Kouga was angered to be placed in one of InuYasha’s troops three years ago when he enlisted to be under the command of the current Inu no Taisho and Emperor, Touga.

He made it very clear to InuYasha from the get-go that he was displeased to be bossed around by an ‘honorless half-bred mutt’, though he knew better than to say as such around the Emperor and his family. 

That didn’t stop the wolf-demon from expressing his disdain for his general with his fellow soldiers, many of whom also shared his bias, and to InuYasha himself when the imperial family wasn’t around. 

The feelings were mutual, as InuYasha hated the wolf’s stench and despised his high and mighty attitude. But while the half-demon lord loathed to admit it, as his father had pointed out when the two of them were overseeing recruit training, Kouga was a strong and resilient fighter, quick on his feet and great at tracking scents from miles away.

“Almost as good as you,” his father had commented.

Almost. 

Keh!

At the end of the day, InuYasha knew he’d be a fool not to enlist the canine demon just because Kouga held a prejudice against him.

Didn’t mean he had to like it though.

“Well we ain’t in the wolf tribes now, are we ya scrawny wolf!” InuYasha exclaimed back in the present.

The two canine demons continued to snarl and bark back-and-forth, until a previously forgotten Miroku shoved his way in-between the two feuding men, breaking them up after some struggle as his human body was much weaker compared to those of his demonic comrades.

“I believe it’d be wise to step away from each other for a while. We did just return from a five-month trip in the North, after all. Perhaps now’s the time to relax and take a breather after all our hard work, do you not agree?” the human male reasoned, his tone soothing and placating. 

Kouga continued to glare as he looked between the two human and half-demon men, before huffing haughtily and stomping out of the in-door combat training room.

InuYasha watched him go before snorting and going over where he stashed his red cloak and armor, stepping next to the large water basin to wash his face of the sweat and grime he’d accumulated from the return journey and the sparring match that he had just won. All the while, Miroku walked along with him, washing his face and grabbing his own gear.

As the two friends strapped back on their heavy armor over their under garments, Miroku looked over at his companion.

“You know Kouga says that stuff at this point just to get a rise out of you, right?” he asked, locking the straps for his armor to his right arm.

“Pfft. Whatever, not like it matters,” the general mumbled, clipping on his ragged and torn up cape.

“Just take a break from him and other troops, InuYasha. Use this time to spend with your family for at least a few hours! Nobody will blame you, and who knows when we’ll be sent out to fight more battles again.”

“Ain’t that simple, Miro. I ain’t no ordinary, run-of-the-mill soldier like you; I’m gonna have to become the Inu no Taisho after my father. I have ta be on my toes all. The damn. Time. Add to the fact that I’m a half-demon, and that makes my job ten times more difficult since more and more people are questioning my authority and capability to lead them into battle. I don’t got time for a break, not yet anyways,” InuYasha argued, a hint of bitterness seeping into his tone.

It had become such a sore spot for him, being a half-breed. A mutt. When he was young, while there might’ve been a whisper here and a distrustful glare there, InuYasha had been fortunate to not have had to face too much discrimination for his mixed blood, but he now knew that was due to his status in the royal family. It was only when he snuck out at age thirteen in commoner clothing that he experienced first-hand how half-demons are really treated by the outside world when they have no status of nobility or royalty.

It was horrible; he returned home hiding the bruises and scars under his clothes before they healed by themselves. He never told either of his parents.

The incident still didn’t stop him from sneaking out to explore, though.

And then he was announced to be the next Great Dog General, the Inu no Taisho, after his father when he turned sixteen, and that news shocked and appalled many in the Emperor’s court and beyond that. Everyone had expected, nay, hoped that Touga would’ve named his eldest, pure demon son Sesshomaru as both the future Emperor and Inu no Taisho, seeing as Touga himself held both titles. No one had anticipated that his younger, impure half-bred son would’ve been named as Touga’s successor to anything!

If he was being honest, InuYasha was shocked too, but he didn’t want the role. 

He’d never told his family, since he knew it’d hurt them, but the then teenage InuYasha had always hoped for a life outside of the castle walls. Even after the incident that happened when he was thirteen, the half dog-demon still wanted to go out in the world where nobody knew who he was, and explore with no obligations or responsibilities to anyone. The brief experience with the outside world when he was thirteen had opened his eyes to how fake court-life truly was, and he hated it. 

Still, seeing everybody who didn’t even know him, already doubting and questioning his capabilities in such a rigorous, brutal, and powerful position just on the basis of him being a half-demon motivated him to take up the mantle he had previously tried to avoid. 

He’d prove to them, all of them, that he was the man for the job, and that his mixed blood didn’t matter.

That was his motivation that still drove him even now.

“Enough about that. Whatta ‘bout you? S’not like your working to become General; Why dontcha go see Sango and the kids. Bet they’ve been missing their old man,” Present InuYasha said, intentionally driving the conversation away from himself.

Miroku suddenly grinned dreamily at the mention of his wife and kids, and InuYasha still couldn’t believe this was the same perverted seventeen-year-old soldier he’d met all those years ago.

They’d met when Miroku joined InuYasha when he had taken charge of overseeing his first troop of soldiers. When he wasn’t giving them orders or training them, InuYasha kept his distance from everyone in his troop as much as possible, just as everyone had kept their distance from him. 

That all changed when Miroku approached him one night when they were traveling along the Eastern borders. The human had grinned mischievously, but no less kindly with a jug of sake and had asked to talk with him.

“Just want to get to know our fearless new general, is all,” is what he had said.

From there, their friendship grew, though it took months for InuYasha to start warming up to Miroku. It didn’t help either that the young soldier had the bad habit of rubbing up along any pretty woman’s ass and asking them to “bare his children” for him, whether the woman was human or demon.

And then Miroku met Sango, a female soldier and the only woman who knew how to put him in his place. From that moment on, the perverted soldier only had eyes for the no-nonsense woman, and InuYasha watched as his two only friends grew closer and closer for the next few years, eventually getting married and having a shit-ton of kids.

Now they were awaiting baby number...eleven? Twelve? The half-demon had honestly lost count. All he knew was that they were expecting yet again, and Sango was pissed not being allowed into the troops again until the pup was born.

The kids adored InuYasha, or ‘Uncle Inu’ as the little ones and even the oldest three, Kin’u, Gyokuto, and Hisui, liked to call him, and InuYasha, in turn, adored them all right back.

 An old, but familiar lump settled in his throat. 

 He was happy for his friends. He really was, but InuYasha couldn’t help the feeling of jealousy and longing to swell up to the surface.

He wanted what they had.

He wanted love.

He wanted children.

But he’d never have any of it.

Because he was a half-breed, and half-breeds, royalty or not, never find love, real love, let alone have children.

“My Lord! My Lord InuYasha!!!” cried the familiar, but no less annoying voice of his brother’s servant, Jaken.

 The aforementioned lord sighed in aggravation as both he and Miroku turned at the squawking cry, just in time to see the small imp-demon come barreling in only to trip over himself in his haste.

“Lord InuYasha! It is important, your father needs to speak with you at this very moment! It is urgent!!!” Jaken continued on.

Both half-demon and human arched their brows in confusion, exchanging concerned looks.

“You go on back to your family, Miroku. I’ll deal with this,” InuYasha said.

“You sure?” Miroku asked, still concerned.

InuYasha simply nodded.

With that, the future Inu no Taisho with his armor fully on once more, turned and followed the panicky little demon out of the training room without another word.

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

Making their way through the halls leading to the throne room, InuYasha contemplated the matter Jaken had frantically informed him his father wanted to discuss.

It wasn’t unusual for Jaken to overreact over certain matters, but the half-demon had never seen the servant as panicky as he was at that moment, even during the times he’d displeased Sesshomaru. 

When he first followed after the imp-demon to the throne room where his family was stationed, the young general had briefly feared it was another marriage proposition his father had arranged for him. There had been quite a few of those over the years, all of which didn’t work out as they should have. It wasn’t necessarily that all the women the Emperor picked for him were bad choices (although there were some who were stuck-up bitches who only wanted him for the rise in status and wealth), but none of them ever seemed to...click, with him.

He could never explain it, but being with them just felt wrong.

Like he was betraying someone by doing so.

Someone who haunted him in his dreams the few times he slept, but could never identify by face or scent.

Someone he didn’t know.

Or perhaps….someone he didn’t remember.

As they got closer to their destination however, the less InuYasha began to believe the situation to be about something as trivial as matrimony. Jaken wouldn’t be reacting the way he was if it was simply about him being offered the hand of a noble woman.

The more he thought about it, the more apprehension and dread he felt in the pit of his stomach at the unknown situation that awaited him.

Stopping in front of the sliding doors separating him from the unknown, InuYasha glanced down at Jaken, who bowed in understanding at staying put outside the room. The demon lord and general huffed and slid the doors open, expecting but unprepared for the worst.

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

“How’s that feel, sweetheart? Is it too tight?” Kagome asked gently, wrapping the young girl’s injured arm in gauze.

Her silent patient nodded hesitantly, staring at the pretty woman treating her wound and glancing at the silent quarter-demon girl who’d saved her.

Kagome finished wrapping her up and patted the child assuringly on her back, “You're going to be just fine, little one. Now why don’t you take one of the beddings we have here and get some rest, hmm? In the morning, Moroha and I will take you back home, okay?”

The little girl hesitated for just a moment.

“...Th-Thank y-you.” she stuttered in a soft voice, averting her brown eyes shyly when the mother and daughter pair blinked in surprise.

The experienced spell-caster smiled pleasantly, nodding her head.

“You are very welcome, my dear. That’s what we’re here for, and I’m glad that you are okay.”

The child blushed, then glanced at the teenage girl still staring at her in shock, before bowing towards the teen in gratitude, which only served to shock the poor quarter-demon even more.

“...And th-thank you, too. F-for rescuing me from th-those big men,” the human girl said, keeping her upper body lowered in a bow of respect.

Moroha was beyond surprised; She was flabbergasted. Never before had anybody who wasn’t her mother thank her, much less genuinely. She was more used to people belittling and repaying her and her mother’s kindness with cruel words and actions. Yet, here this young human child was, wholeheartedly and genuinely showing them, showing her, gratitude for saving and treating her, knowing or at least suspecting very well who they were, what they were. 

The young spell-caster blushed, flustered, “K-Keh! It wasn’t a big deal; I was just passing through!” she explained, defensive.

“Yes...just passing through.”

Moroha froze at the deadly calm tone. Cringing, the teen glanced slowly at her mother, flinching at the angered glare the older woman was shooting her.

Oh crap.

Turning back towards her slightly confused patient, Kagome adapted a cheery smile and clapping her hands together.

“Well, I believe that’s enough for now! Why don’t you go and get some rest, dear, and then we’ll get up bright and early tomorrow to take you home! That sound good?” the woman asked, her tone motherly and upbeat.

The girl nodded, getting up and taking a few steps towards one of the beddings close by. Before she got there though, the young brunette turned her head to look back at her temporary caretakers.

“Miss Pretty Lady, Miss Demon Lady? Really, thank you for saving me. I was really scared,” the child thanked them for the hundredth time, her words more confident and assured.

Moroha’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance, “Demon Lady?”

“Hey kid! We have names!” the spell-casting quarter-demon exclaimed, aggravated. 

“Moroha!” Kagome scolded, her message clear.

Don’t dig yourself deeper into the hole you're already in, missy.

Understanding the silent threat, said ‘missy’ gulped and shut her mouth, not daring to utter another word that could get her in even more trouble than she already was.

Huffing, Kagome once again smiled kindly towards the younger girl.

“Please excuse her, she can be a bit brash. She’s right though; we haven’t introduced ourselves yet, have we? My name’s Kagome Higurashi, and that troublemaker over there is my daughter, Moroha. What is your name?” she asked.

The girl, again, hesitated. Only for a split second, though, as she soon opened her mouth and answered.

“My name is Rin.”

Kagome nodded, standing up and leading her previously unnamed charge over to the bedding, a gentle hand on the small of the brunette girl’s back.

“Well Rin, it's late, and you must be exhausted, so go to sleep and we’ll get you up in the morning. I’m certain your family misses you terribly and won’t be too pleased if you come back to them dead-on-your-feet tired, now will they?” 

Rin shook her head as Kagome tucked her in. Unsurprisingly, the young girl was out within seconds, the craziness from the day catching up to her.

Once she was sure her charge was fast asleep, the spell-caster turned back to her nervous daughter, arms on her hips as she frowned at the teenager.

“Mama, I-” 

Kagome put a hand up, abruptly cutting off her child’s excuse before it could begin, “Come with me over here. Now.”

Moroha shivered at the serious, deadpanned tone. Her mother only used that tone when she was about to give her a tongue-lashing. No doubt about it, she was in trouble.

Deep trouble.

The mother and daughter pair strode over towards the treeline that surrounded their camp. It was far enough away to where they could talk in private and not disturb their sleeping guest, but close enough so that they could still see and check in on the child if any danger invaded their camp. 

Sighing and rubbing her temples, Kagome started, “Moroha, what were you thinking! I told you to not go any farther than you absolutely had to to deliver that medicine, and then you come back with bruises and scratches, blood on your clothes, and an injured child in your arms, telling me there was a mob riot in the village!? And that you used magic to eviscerate a demon’s arm!? Do you know what kind of danger you put yourself in!?” 

Moroha winced, trying to keep the bruises on her neck hidden from her mother’s sight. When she had burst through the treeline back into their camp, carrying Rin who’s arm wound was still sluggishly bleeding out onto her and her clothes, her mother took one look at the injured child and sprang into action, having to clean and then stitch up the wound before it could get infected. So focused on ensuring the child be taken care of, Kagome had only noticed in passing the light bruises and few scrapes on her own child’s arms and legs, but they were superficial and were already healing, so Kagome and Moroha paid them no mind. Not when they had a much more serious, much more human injury, to be taken care of. 

The demon girl was grateful that Kagome had been more focused on the human child as soon as she saw her. Otherwise, the dark, yellow and purple bruises on her neck from where the demon had a tight hold on her would have instantly been spotted on the older woman’s ‘Mom Radar’, as she liked to call it. 

Moroha hadn’t wanted to cause her mother any more worry, so as soon as she was sure Kagome was too preoccupied with the human child to pay any mind to her, Moroha had taken the scarf she wore around her neck and readjusted it to hide the bruises that were still there. With how tight the demon had clutched onto her, the bruises were quite nasty looking, and would take longer for her demonic healing to get rid of them completely. 

Of course, this act of secrecy equated to not telling her mother exactly why she’d had to eviscerate that demon’s arm with her magic. She still wasn’t so sure telling the truth about that was a good idea, but she had to say something!  

“He gave me no choice, Mama! I had to use magic!” the teen defended, hoping her mother wouldn’t press the issue from there.

“And why was that, Moroha? What did he do to make you blow your cover and the cloaking spell to destroy his arm using magic?” 

And of course, her mother pushed the issue.

“Uh…” was all that came out of her mouth, her mind running double-time to come up with a valid, but less severe explanation than what had actually happened.

Unfortunately, the world seemed to be out to get her that day. While Moroha fumbled, trying to make up a random excuse, Kagome had finally noticed the unusual way her daughter’s red scarf covered the quarter-demon’s neck, and had reached her hands out to remove the scarf.

“Wait! Mama, don’t-” Moroha panicked once she felt her mother’s hands moving the scarf.

“Moroha!!! What on Earth happened to your neck!?”

Too late.

Moroha winced when Kagome gently poked and prodded the darkened, abnormally large fingerprint marks on her neck. They weren’t as sore as they were hours ago, telling the inexperienced spell-caster that the healing process was already underway, but with how dark and severe the bruises were, it’d take longer for the bruises to completely vanish from her skin. 

Prying her mother’s hands away from her injured flesh, Moroha cringed even more at the panicked expression, as well as the unshed tears, that she could see in her eyes and face.

She hated making her mama look like that. 

“These were why I had to use magic; he had me by the neck,” Moroha swallowed, figuring there was no point in lying or trying to come up with another excuse anymore. 

The older magic-user stared at the marks that dared to mar her baby’s lightly tanned skin before pulling the demon girl tightly into her arms, embracing her most precious treasure like a life-line, her anger completely forgotten. 

Surprised at first, Moroha quickly regained her composure and wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist, embracing her just as tightly as the severity and exhaustion from the day finally caught up with her, and she buried her head into her mother’s shoulder as her small frame shook from her emotional turmoil.

For the first time in a long while, Moroha was desperate for her mother’s comfort.

She didn’t cry, but it finally hit Moroha just how much danger she put herself in that day, and how scared the whole ordeal made her, though she’d never admit it out loud.

Even so, the partial-demon couldn’t find it within herself to regret stepping in to help a child in need, and she expressed that sentiment to her mother, her voice muffled slightly from her face still being buried in her mama’s shoulder. 

Kagome sighed and pulled herself and her daughter out of each other’s arms, though she still had a grip on the much more petite girl’s shoulders. Her face was resigned, but understanding as she addressed Moroha.

“I understand, sweetheart, and I would’ve done the exact same thing if I were you. But I’m your mother, and I just worry for you is all. I know you can take care of yourself, and I know you did what you thought was right, but I just can’t help it; I want you to be safe. You’ll understand one day when your a mother,”

Kagome grinned when Moroha blushed at the last part.

Moroha coughed awkwardly, shuffling her feet as she looked away from her mother’s grinning face, and Kagome had to stifle a giggle at just how familiar Moroha’s countenance was.

“She’s truly her father’s daughter, that’s for sure…”

“So, um...are we good?” Moroha asked, nervous despite herself.

Taking pity on her poor child, Kagome smiled and looped an arm around her daughter’s shoulder as they walked back away from the trees and led her to their own beddings for the night.

“Yup, we’re good.”

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

“You wished to speak with me, Father?” InuYasha asked, bowing respectfully before the Emperor and the rest of his family.

The second he entered the room, InuYasha sensed the tension in the air. His family all had grim expressions upon their faces, save for his mother who had a clearly worried look upon her soft features.

The feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach only intensified when he noticed Sesshomaru and his twin daughters clenching their clawed hands into fists, enough to draw rivlets of blood from all three of them. Sesshomaru’s eyes were also bleeding a light pink, telling InuYasha that whatever the issue was, it was enough to rile up the normally stoic demon lord that he was holding back from transforming.

But the most telling, and ultimately the most concerning, indicator was the absence of his young, cheerful adoptive niece. 

InuYasha’s mouth went dry.

“Where’s Rin?” he asked, fear creeping into his heart.

“Missing,” his father simply stated.

A reverberating growl from the Emperor's eldest son rent the air in the room at the word.

“We need you, Sestuna, and Kouga to go and search for her; try to scent her out,” Touga continued, his tone authoritative and resolute like the leader he was.

InuYasha, stone-faced, kneeled on one knee before his father and family, head bowed as he addressed them.

“I will not rest until she is found and safe, Your Highness.” the half-demon general vowed, determination clear in his voice.

The current Emperor and Inu no Taisho nodded, eyeing his Setsuna imploringly. Catching her grandfather’s gaze, the half-demon princess nodded back and stood up, taking her naginata with her as she stepped off the raised platform to her uncle’s side.

“I have already sent a messenger to retrieve Kouga; he will meet you at the front gate. Now go,” the Emperor commanded firmly, to which both general and princess nodded sagely.

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

  “InuYasha!”

InuYasha and Setsuna turned at the call, seeing his half-brother striding up to him with a serious glare.

“Father, what is it?” Setsuna asked, her tone deadpanned like her father’s often was. 

The future Emperor stopped before his daughter and brother, his gaze steady but no less imposing.

“I urge you, little brother, to not be your stupid, impulsive self with this matter. It does, afterall, concern my daughter,”

Normally, such a reminder would cause InuYasha to roll his eyes and respond with a smartass retort.

But this time, InuYasha knew the severity of the situation, and he could easily spot the worry in his half-brother’s golden eyes.

They were the eyes of a father, worried for the whereabouts of his child.

Something InuYasha was sure he was never going to experience.

He nodded, his face grave and resolute.

“You have my word, Sesshomaru, that I will find your daughter and bring her home,” 

The young lord glanced over at Setsuna, his niece catching his gaze.

“Both of them,” InuYasha concluded.

The older demon stared down at his brother, as though assessing the half-demon’s sincerity of his promise, before giving a single nod of acceptance.

With that, the two half-demons turned and made their way to the front gate, set and determined to bring back their loved one.

To be Continued....

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

A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed it! 

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