#and i’m overheating despite the fact that i’m in shorts and a tank top with no blankets and the fan on full blast

[prettyboysmlm]

welcome to: kantilen has an existential crisis part who fucking knows!

[drabbles-mc]

Reverence

Juice Ortiz x F!Reader

Request by Anon: How about a Juice x female reader where she wears short sleeves for the first time round the clubhouse, and the boys get a glimpse of the scars of her arms, from where she used to do silly things to deal with her shit, but after a chat with Chibs she just gives up trying to hide it, and it breaks Juice's heart because he's liked her for so long, and a bit of angsty fluff happens, before it turns to smut with some vague body worship. Idk. Feeling shit about mine atm - glad it's behind me

Warnings: smoking/alcohol, mentions of scars & self injury, unprotected sex

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: As someone else who has also put this chapter of my life behind me, I’m really glad that you trusted me with this request! Hopefully I did it justice. It’s a little soft, a little sad, but it was really cathartic to write. Hope you enjoy. xo

SOA Taglist: @masterlistforimagines​ @adela-topaz-caelon​ @mijop​ @chibsytelford​ @xladymacbethx​ @i-just-read-stuff​ (If you want to be tagged just let me know!)

Join my group-chat here: (X)

You knocked lightly on the door to Chibs’ dorm, dreading the conversation that you were about to get yourself into with him. He called for you to come in, and taking one last deep breath you did. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, glasses low on his nose as he ran his hands back through his hair. He glanced up at you and smiled despite the exhaustion written all over his face.

“Y/N,” he waved for you to come closer, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

You chuckled, biting back your nerves as you kept your arms crossed and pressed tight against your chest, “I, um, I was just wondering if you had a sweatshirt I could borrow? Half-sack spilled beer on mine. I feel naked in just a tank top.”

He nodded as he stood up and walked over to the little pocket of wall space that passed for his closet. He leafed through a few hangers before pulling a black hoodie for you, “Whatever you need, love.”

An audible sigh of relief escaped you as you stepped closer to take it from him, “Thank you. I owe you, seriously.”

He chuckled at how grateful you seemed for the small gesture, “It’s really no—” he paused mid-sentence as he watched you reach forward to take the piece of clothing from his hands.

You looked at him, and followed where his eyes were looking. Your heart dropped into your stomach as you watched him scan your arms. There was a reason you always had on a hoodie, or flannel, or sleeves of any kind despite the fact that you lived so close to the California coast. There was also a reason that Chibs was the person that you went to, to ask for a spare shirt to wear. However, as you watched the concern begin to pool in his eyes, you worried that you might’ve made a mistake.

“You can keep the sweatshirt,” he reached forward and rested his hand on your shoulder, “But I’ll be the first to tell ye, forever is a long time to try and hide. A long time to be ashamed.”

You felt tears stinging at the edges of your eyes and you tried desperately to force them back into hiding. You reached up, quickly brushing them away. You’d never spoken to any of the guys about that part of your past. It was behind you, but the slightly discolored scars etched into your arms felt like a constant reminder that you would never be able to fully outrun it. You didn’t want them to see that part of you, you didn’t even want to see it in yourself.

“C’mere,” Chibs pulled you into a full hug and you let yourself melt into his chest. He rested the side of his head against yours as he ran his hand up and down your back, “If there’s anyplace that you should feel comfortable in yer own skin, it’s here,” his voice was gentler than you’d ever heard before, “Ev’ryone’s got scars, love. People like you ‘n me jus’ wear ‘em on the outside instead.”

Your body was trembling as you fought the urge to break down completely. Tears fell from your eyes onto the smooth leather of his kutte. You couldn’t force yourself to pull away and look at him, “I don’t want them to see me differently. I don’t want them thinking about that part of me—I don’t want me thinking about that part of me.”

Chibs stepped back from you so that he could get a better look at your face. He thumbed a stray tear off your cheek and gave you a sincere smile, “C’mon now. There’s nothing but love for you here,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I’m not tryin’ to tell you what to do. ‘S your life, your body. But I’m thinkin’ it might be time ta forgive yerself a bit.”

You took a deep breath as you ran your hands over your face, wiping away the remnants of your tears, “Thank you, Chibs.”

He smiled, nodding, “You know I love you, darlin’.”

After that, he excused himself and walked out of the room. You were thankful for the moment of privacy to weigh out everything that he had just said. He always spoke with so much certainty, but this was the first time that certainty had been blanketed over with so much softness. You wished that you could completely buy into everything that he had just said, but you still found yourself pulling the sweatshirt down over your head.

When you walked back out into the expanse of the clubhouse, you looked around to see who else was there. It was starting to get a little later, and more people were starting to flood in. Pretty much everyone in the MC was there, as well as the usual crowd of friends and girls from CaraCara.

You locked eyes with Chibs, who was sitting on the couch with Bobby and Jax. You were afraid to meet his gaze, afraid of what you might see when you did. Part of you was expecting him to look upset, or disappointed, but his expression didn’t falter at all. He gave you a slight nod and a small smile as he went back to the conversation that he was in.

Once you were back behind the bar with the prospect, you felt your nerves begin to subside a little. Staying busy and keeping your mind occupied was key. The two of you were cracking open a record number of beer bottles as the night continued to get busier, but you didn’t mind it. Truthfully, you thrived off the controlled chaos of the clubhouse.

You’d just brought in a few more cases of beer from the back storage room. Taking a moment to catch your breath, you lifted the bottom hem of your sweatshirt to wipe away a few beads of sweat that were beginning to trickle down your forehead. You weren’t expecting Chibs’ sweatshirt to be so heavy and well-insulated, but you felt like you were on the brink of overheating.

For a moment you pulled at the sleeves before mumbling a quiet, “Fuck this,” to yourself before pulling the top off over your head. You tied it around your waist and went back to work, feeling like a huge weight had been taken off of your shoulders. Breathing felt a little easier, and you knew it wasn’t just because you weren’t sweating anymore.

As the night wore on, a few of the guys had come up to get drinks from you. They’d be in the middle of telling a dumb joke or talking shit about something else happening in the clubhouse when you’d hand them their drink. They would see the lines that went across the insides of your arms. Some of them would pause when they clocked it, others would just look back up at your eyes and continue whatever it was that they had been telling you. No comments, good, bad, or otherwise, were made, and you were so relieved. Chibs was right, and perhaps you should’ve known better from the get-go, but better late than never.

You were just about to tell Half Sack that you were going to step outside to grab a smoke when Juice popped up on the other side of the bar. He had the same silly, childish grin on his face that he always had when he came over to talk to you. You chuckled as you leaned forward onto the bar.

“What can I get you, Juan Carlos?”

His smile grew, making his eyes crinkle at the edges, “Just another beer, please.”

You threw him a wink, “You got it.”

You grabbed a bottle for him, easily popping the top off on the edge of the bar before handing it over to him. You were just about to start up the flirty banter that always went back and forth between you two when you saw the smile drop from his face. Everyone else had moved so quickly past the scars on your arms that you’d almost forgotten about the fact that they’d never seen them before. Perhaps you should’ve known that it would be different with Juice. His eyes traveled up your arms and shoulders until they reached your face. When his eyes met yours, you could see that the light was slipping out of them. The hustle and bustle of the clubhouse began to fade away as you looked at him.

“You okay?” you asked.

“I, uh,” he stammered slightly, “Yea. I’m…I’m good.”

You knew that it was going to be on his mind all night, and he wouldn’t be able to think about anything else until you two talked about it. You offered up a smile, “I was just about to step out and grab a smoke. Keep me company?”

He nodded, practically jumping out of his seat at the opportunity, “Of course.”

You chuckled as you turned back to Half Sack, “You’re in charge for a little bit, prospect. Don’t let the place burn down.”

Once you came out from your side of the bar you lightly took Juice’s hand in your own and tugged him towards the door. You were trying not to think about the mounting concern in his eyes as you pushed your way out into the night air. It was still warm out despite the fact that the sun was long gone. There was the slightest hint of a breeze and you reveled in the way it felt as it coursed over your arms.

You sat down on top of the picnic table, feet resting atop the bench. You glanced over at Juice and motioned for him to join you. Once he did, you reached over into the pocket of his kutte and pulled out his pack of cigarettes.

He managed a smile, “Didn’t realize you invited me because that’s where you were going to get your smoke from.”

You chuckled as you pulled out your lighter, “Least I brought my own light.

You tilted the pack towards him and he took one with a laugh and a shake of his head, “Something not quite right about you offering me a smoke from my own pack like this.”

You laughed as you set it down next to you, “My pack now.”

He let you light his cigarette for him. You rested the side of your leg against his as you both stared towards the street, soaking up how quiet your little town was outside the fences of the compound.

“You wanna talk about it?” you finally broke the silence.

“About what?” he feigned ignorance, but not well.

“About that sad look in your eyes.”

He pressed his lips together for a moment, and you could tell that he felt bad that he wore his thoughts and emotions so clearly on his face. It was part of what you liked most about him, though—you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“I’m sorry,” he shook his head, “I didn’t mean to make it weird. I just…I didn’t know.”

Your laugh had a touch of hollowness to it, “That was on purpose.”

“What changed?”

You shrugged, “How long can you hide so much of yourself? There comes a point where it’s just…not worth it.”

“I’m,” he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, “I’m so sorry.”

You looked over at him and shook your head, “Don’t be. It was a long time ago. I’m a different person now.”

“No, I mean,” he paused as he tried to get his words in order, “I’m sorry you felt like you had to hide it. No one should have to feel that way, especially not you.”

You took a drag from your cigarette, letting out a long, slow stream of smoke, “You have nothing that you need to apologize for. What I did, what I do, none of that is on you.”

For a few minutes neither of you said anything more. You could see it on Juice’s face that he had a million thoughts going through his head. If anyone knew the weight of the kind of hurt that drove you to do things like hurting yourself, it was Juice. He never said anything in particular, but you knew that despite the energy he had and the brightness of his smile, he was a man who knew how much hurt a person could carry in silence.

“You know what my first thought was when you started working here?” he finally spoke up, his voice a little lighter.

“What’s that?” you smiled over at him as you flicked the last of your cigarette away.

“I thought that it was only going to take about a week for someone as gorgeous as you to get sick of all of us here and quit,” he laughed for a moment before shaking his head, “And my second thought was how much I was going to miss looking at you from the other side of the bar.”

You laughed, unable to lie to yourself about the warmth rising in your face, “You get in over your head fast, huh?”

“One of my best and worst qualities,” he snubbed out his cigarette and turned to look at you, “I’m really glad you stuck around.”

“Me too,” you nodded, twisting your hands in your lap.

“I know it’s too little too late, but,” he nervously tapped his fingers against his knee, “you know I’m always here for you, right? If you ever wanna talk. I’m…I’m never too busy for you.”

You rested your hand on top of his to try and calm his nerves, “I appreciate that.”

His mind slowed down as the warmth from your hand bled over into his. He let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He slowly took his hand out form underneath yours and slid it up your arm, the pads of his fingers ghosting over the ridges and divots that remained despite years passing. His hand traced over your shoulder and up your neck until it came to rest on the side of your face. Your heart was pounding inside your chest but the rest of you felt perfectly calm.

“You’re so beautiful,” his voice came out as a whisper.

You let out a quiet laugh, “You don’t have t—”

“I mean it,” he still spoke softly, but his thumb tracing lightly along the side of your face gave you pause, “You’re one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever seen. And I’m…I’m so glad that you’re not hiding yourself anymore.”

You felt a lump forming in the back of your throat at the sincerity of his words. Taking a shaky breath as you fought the tears that were beginning to form in your eyes, you rested your hand over his. You shut your eyes for a moment before opening them to look directly into his.

“Kiss me,” you let the words slip out.

His eyes went wide for a moment but he didn’t hesitate. He leaned in and caught your lips in a kiss. His touch was gentle as he brought his other hand up to cup both sides of your face. You leaned into him, arms wrapping around his torso as you tried to pull him closer to you. You could feel his lips curling into a smile as he kissed you.

He pulled away and you were caught off-guard at the sudden loss of contact. You were about to ask him if you had pushed it too far when he hopped off the picnic table and scooped you up right after. You laughed as he draped you bridal style over his arms and made his way down the side of the clubhouse. For a minute you both felt like a couple of teenagers as he snuck in through the side door and went straight back to his dorm.

He laid you down on the bed and you both instantly kicked off your shoes. You couldn’t wipe the smile off of your face as he climbed on top of you. He straddled your hips before leaning down to press his lips back to yours. Your hands made their way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you. You let your nails rake lightly down the back of his head as his tongue ran along the inside of your bottom lip.

He quickly untied the hoodie around your waist before his hands slid up underneath the thin fabric of your tank top, and despite the fact that his body was giving off so much heat, you found yourself getting goosebumps. You lifted your shoulders from the mattress, allowing him to pull your shirt off over your head. He tossed it to the side and you couldn’t help the giggle that came out of you as he did. There was a noticeable softness in his eyes as he looked down at you.

Unable to stop yourself, you reached and tugged at the hem of his shirt, making him smile as he shed it and tossed it aside with your own. You propped yourself up and lightly traced your fingers down the side of his face. He caught your hand with his own and pressed his lips against your palm. He kissed your knuckles before letting his lips slide down to your wrist. A jolt of fear went down your spine as your body tensed up. His eyes found their way to yours and he paused, trying to glean from your expression whether he should stop or keep pressing onward.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded for him to continue. His lips curled slightly into a smile before he pressed them back against your wrist. “There isn’t a single part of you that I won’t love,” the words fell from his lips so easily.

You felt yourself getting choked up and you couldn’t say anything in response. He dropped kisses all along the inside of your wrist and forearm, leaning closer and closer to you as he did. Each touch was caring, delicate, like he was trying to softly wash away years of bad memories. He let his fingers trail up your arm as his lips found their way to your neck and eventually back to your lips.

Every last bit of self control had left your body. You felt little tears stinging at your eyes as you realized that no one had ever taken their time with you like this before. You cupped his face in an attempt to keep his lips latched onto yours. After a few moments, though, he pulled away again. He took your other hand in his and started the whole process over again, just as slow and meticulous as he had been for your other arm.

When he was done, he laid kisses across your collarbone and chest, lips slowly starting to wander down your stomach. Without missing a beat he undid the button and zipper on your jeans. He repositioned himself for a moment so he could slide them off your legs. He kissed your hips, fingers treading lightly over the thin fabric of your underwear. His hands ran over your thighs, and he couldn’t help but to notice the scars there too—fewer and less severe, but still faint lines crossed over parts of the skin there. His lips painted over those as well.

His hands and lips covered every available piece of your skin, explored every reachable curve. And it was the most comfortable you’d ever felt with someone, despite the intensive intimacy of it all. He made his way back up to you, hand caressing the side of your face. You couldn’t do anything but smile and press your lips against his.

As your lips moved so perfectly together, you found your hands straying towards his belt. He smiled into your kiss as he quickly undid it, kicking off his pants right after. The warmth from his legs seeped into yours as he positioned himself between them. You felt his fingers maneuver around the waistband of your underwear before they traced along your skin, causing you to shiver and moan.

His lips latched onto your neck and you felt your back arch into his touch. He pressed a soft kiss just below your ear before asking, “Can I keep showing you how much I want you?”

Your breath caught in your throat as you listened to the quiet reverence and desperation in his voice, but you managed to make yourself say yes. Within moments both your underwear and his found homes on the floor. He caught your lips with his as he slid into you, swallowing your soft moans.

His movements were slow, like he was trying to memorize every detail of what it was like to be with you like that. His hands roamed over your entire body as he thrust into you, desperate to be as close to you as he could possibly manage. Your nails raked lightly down his back and you felt him shiver at the touch.

Time faded away as the two of you remained laid up in his bed, bodies as tangled as the could manage to be. He lifted your legs and wrapped them around his waist. His name fell from your lips repeatedly as his pace increased. The tension building in your body was almost too much to bear, your nails sinking into his shoulders as you fought to keep the slightest bit of composure.

He nipped lightly at your neck, “Let go for me,” it was a soft and almost pleading four words and you couldn’t help but to do as he asked, letting go and allowing your body a true flood of ecstasy. He wasn’t far behind you, soon carefully collapsing onto your chest.

Your nails absentmindedly trailed up and down his neck as you both laid and tried to catch your breath. He pressed featherlight kisses along your chest and collarbone, earning a smile out of you.

“You’re incredible,” he gazed up at you as he said it.

You chuckled, massaging small circles into his shoulders, “I think you’re pretty incredible too.”

Comfortable silence enveloped the two of you. Juice pressed his head to your chest, reveling in the steadiness of your heartbeat as his fingers danced along your arms and sides. The pads of his fingers leaving warmth in their wake.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” you asked, although you were fairly sure of the answer.

He lifted his head and looked up at you with a smile, “You can stay with me whenever you want.”

He shifted off of you and pulled you to him. The two of you were facing each other, foreheads pressed against one another’s. His breathing slowed and you took comfort in the feeling of his chest rising and falling as it was pressed against yours. As the two of you settled underneath the covers you couldn’t help but to feel as though the four walls of that little room had witnessed the start of a whole new chapter for both of you.

[negabaronauishininglight]

Icy

Minatozaki Sana x fem!reader

requested by: anon

genres: fluff, smut

warnings: NSWF(sexual content)

a/n: so this might be a little chaotic as I had a certain idea for this fic and abandoned it midway, but still hope you’ll enjoy my first detailed smut 😌 also I struggled a bit with the dom!reader part as I’m a total pillow princess, but hope that’s realistic enough 😂😂

(I might have developped an unhealthy obsession with this gif)

The scorching heat inside your apartment didn't seem to cease despite the fact that the air conditioning was turned up to maximum and you were only wearing a sports bra and shorts. The first wave of hot summer weather took a toll on you as well as the upcoming final exams you had to take to pass the semester. You closed your overheated laptop. There was no way you could study any longer in such conditions, there wasn’t a chance for you to focus. The exam questions slowly drifted off your mind when your eyes lied on the silhouette of your girlfriend, comfortably laying on the couch facing the tv set in your living room. The sudden feeling of guilt spread through your veins as you realised you didn't pay much attention to her since early in the morning. You knew she was a clingy, touchy feely person and it was her first day off in a while, so she probably expected to spend it with you in a more coupley way. As if she could sense your gaze on her, she turned her head slowly with a dramatic expression upon her face.

- Honey, it's so unbearably hot, are you sure we can’t turn up the air conditioning anymore?

- I’m positive it’s all we can have right now. Would you like me to get you something cold to drink? I’m sure there’s still some ice in the freezer - you came up to her and planted a soft kiss on the top of her head. 

- Yes, please, I hope it’ll help a little, I’m really burning up.

The moment she said that you noticed the beads of sweat making their way down the column of her neck to her exposed collarbone. She was only dressed in a skimpy tank top and underwear and the subtle outline of her cleavage suggested she didn’t put on a bra this morning. You noticed how she licked her lips to prevent them from drying up and how some strands of her orange locks cling to her neck. She looked outrageously luscious and you couldn't believe how you had been able to study just minutes ago without getting distracted.

- I’ll go get you a drink, wait for me in the bedroom - she raised her eyebrows in confusion after hearing your words, but you were sure she would soon realise what was on your mind. Unless she was tired or in a bad mood, Sana was always down for having fun in bed. 

You took your time walking to the kitchen and getting the remaining ice cubes out of the freezer. You put some in a glass of water just in case Sana was thirsty, while putting the rest in the ice bag and you returned to your bedroom, where your girlfriend waited in anticipation.

- So I have an idea - you put the ice bag on the nightstand, then settled comfortably in her lap - Since you are feeling hot, I figured out a way to help you.

- And what would that be? - she asked, her hands already making their way to your waist. She leaned in to kiss your neck before you pushed her gently onto her back. You were having complete control over her this time and nothing could change your plans.

- Not so fast, princess. Be a good girl and let me take care of you.

Her hips involuntarily bucked up at your words which made you smile to yourself. She loved when you took the lead and she was shameless enough not to hide it. Your fingers slowly pulled her tank top up to reveal the inviting pale skin of her stomach and breasts. No matter how many times you two would make love, you were still in awe of how heavenly her body was. You silently asked for permission to take off the rest of her clothes with your eyes and your plea was granted immediately. There she lied under you, nude and vulnerable, waiting for you to touch her. You planted soft kisses on her lips before trailing down to her neck and chest, making her sigh in pleasure. When she started squirming and shifting in anticipation, you decided she had enough of foreplay and reached for an ice cube to put between your teeth. When you pressed it against her hardened nipple, she let out a high pitched moan.

- Y/N, it feels so good.

- I know princess, imagine how it will feel when I’ll put it between your folds.

- Just make me cum already - you felt her calves wrap themselves around your waist and pull you closer to her body.

- But if I let you cum right away, It would be no fun - you placed another ice cube in between your fingers and dragged it along her sternum to tease her delicate skin. Sana’s breath hitched as your hand reached her lower belly.

- Tell me what you want me to do, Satang - you whispered, cautiously spreading her slender thighs. 

- I want you to touch me - she moaned out when you caressed the sensitive skin of her inner thigh - Please, Y/N, touch me.

- Do you think you deserve to be pleased already? Because I don’t think so - suddenly, a vicious idea entered your mind. You reached down to slide your shorts and underwear off and proceeded to climb up her body until your heat was inches apart from her lips - Make me feel good, then you’ll get your reward, princess.

She hummed as her mouth immediately latched on your womanhood, lapping and sucking eagerly. She knew there was no point in teasing you or holding back. You felt her tongue enter you, making her moan at your taste. You loved how desperate she was to make you cum, how hard she tried to please you.

- Such a good, eager girl I have - you hummed as you grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her face closer to your core. A tiny bit of pain mixed with your sweet words of praise elicited her muffled, needy whines as she sped up her movements. She devoured you as if you were the most delicious treat she had ever tasted in her life, obscene sounds of her moans and her tongue against your wetness filling your ears. You reached behind your back to softly run your fingers over her womanhood. She was completely soaked, her arousal staining the silk sheets under her body.

- Look how filthy you are, all wet just from pleasing me - you gathered some of her juices on the tip of your finger, putting it up to your lips to taste her. She was sweet like honey and so appetizing you couldn't hold back. You shoved two fingers deep inside her, which made her let a tiny cry and arch her back. She was almost too ready for you, each one of your thrusts provoking her thighs to shake. Her mouth slowed down its ministrations, focusing on sucking and circling your clit with the tip of her tongue.

- Let’s cum together, princess - you curled your fingers deep inside her while teasing her nub with your thumb when you felt her tense up and her teeth sink into your sensitive skin. It was enough for you to feel the incoming wave of pleasure as you reached your high seconds after Sana, encouraged by the soft strokes of her tongue. You removed your body from hers before stretching your back on the bed, opening your arms for her to curl into. You witnessed her lick your juices off her swollen, cherry red lips as she climbed atop of you with a wide grin.

- Feel any less hot? - you asked, running your fingers softly through her hair.

- Not exactly - she giggled - But you definitely made me forget about the heat outside.

[morgana-ren]

i need. More repressed shigaraki

Oh babe you asked for it and so yougot it 

Part I and II here

At this point, it’s been a few weeks, and Shigaraki is as close to coming to terms with his feelings for youas he’s going to get. That’s not saying much, since now that he realizes the trouble he’s in, that means he’s going to have to actually do something about it, right? Now, our boy is a man of action, but this? This is uncharted territory for him, and he doesn’t like that one bit. 

He’d rather go toe to toe with All Might than act on what he feels for you. Battles are a matter of strength, calculation, and strategy. Worst comes to worst, he could retreat and try again another day. But this? Too many variables, too many questions. Feelings are irrational and random, and there’s no way to calculate that.

Plus, if you reject him, it’s gameover, and there’s no continue. He’s not sure he could handle that. 

It drives him insane whenever he thinks about it, which is far more often than he’s comfortable with. What if you said no? What if you said yes? Then what? What could he possibly offer you?Ask you back to his room to play video games together? Then you would definitely notice the slowly accumulating pile of your ‘missing’ undergarments he’s been hoarding. 

He’s too notorious to take you out somewhere nice, and even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t know where to begin. Brush his ratty hair? Cologne? Pull out your chair and kiss your hand after he gives you flowers? Pleh. 

Make you dinner at the hideout? Hope you like ramen and soda in a Dixie cup. This man is barely learning how to do laundry for himself, let alone cook. Not to mention, he’d never hear the end of it from the rest of the League. The infamous Shigaraki smitten? What a joke. 

The thought makes him want to wretch. 

Truthfully, he wants you to want him for who he is. He wants you to be content with your head in his lap while he plays his game, stroking your hair between rounds. He wants to hear your gentle sighs as you sleep curled up next to him like a cat while he just watches you nap peacefully in his room. He wants you to not shy away when he brings his lips to yours, for you not to care about the broken, scratchy texture of his mouth as he kisses you. 

In his mind, he might as well ask for his family back. He figured it had been made plenty clear over the course of his years that he was nothing special to look at. He spent most of his time isolated, so he never garnered the skills to be charming. The only girls he’s ever really talked to were the ones he taunted on online matches or subordinates when he gave orders, and those two things were genderless in his head. 

He had never bothered to figure outthe complex formalities of dating, since it was usually so far from his mind. Even when he had a surge of hormones, he could usually handle it with his hand and a few hours alone. He could forget whatever it was that had triggered his arousal. But you were always around, always near by. It was driving him to the limits of madness, and his libido was redlining and on the brink of explosion. 

Even from across the base, he could swear he could smell you. His heart would begin pounding in his ears whenever he heard your voice. He couldn’t even look at you anymore since his pasty skin would certainly flush if your eyes lingered on him for too long, and that would be a dead giveaway. 

He had begun becoming protective of you, positioning you near the back during an attack where he could protect you because he couldn’t stand the thought of you getting harmed. When you were in the thick of battle, he was always there, always watching. He knew you weren’t harmless. Not with the skillful way your feet could dance around your enemies,but he watched regardless. Completely enthralled with the gentle sway of your hair as you evaded a hit, the curve of your leg as you brought the heel of your foot into a heroes chest. 

Not to mention the way your body moved, a brutal clash of ferocity and femininity that made his knees weak. 

It had almost gotten him wiped more than once. 

You were becoming a distraction. One he didn’t quite know how to deal with. He was never one to beat around the bush, but this was something so far outside of his expertise. He had spent grueling nights trying to find something, anything  he could do to woo you, but it always ended up with him feeling foolish as he replayed your rejection over and over in his mind. 

He did have one strength though. One tiny little advantage. 

You admired him. He knew that much. 

Ever since the first night, he had been acting different around you, and you had definitely taken notice. He had been distant, cold even, and he knew you weren’t taking it well. Whenever you tried to talk to him, he would turn away and ignore you. He had pulled you back from the front of battle and you figured it was because he thought you were stupid and inept. He wouldn’t even look at you anymore, and he knew it was hurting you in one way or another. 

Your cute little head had rationalized his behavior as him hating you. Like he was shoving you off and even annoyed by you. You didn’t understand what you had done wrong, and you were trying so hard to get back into his good graces, desperately trying to appeal to him one way or another. 

It was adorable. You wanted so badly for him to like you. If only you knew how much. 

Even now, you sat curled up on the sofa in the main room, watching him as he played his game. Everyone else had long gone to bed, but ever since his switch in disposition, you had been staying up later and later, trying to understand why he was so dismissive of you lately. You figured if you were the only one he could talk to, eventually he’d relent, and damned if you weren’t persistent. He admired your tenacity. 

His four fingered grip on the controller was shaky and slippery, palms sweaty and overheated. He could feel your gaze switching between the back of his head and the game, occasionally asking him questions about what he was playing and the story line, which he would answer in short, one word answers. Every molecule in his arms ached topull you into his lap and explain every single thing in express detail, teach you how to play, quiz you and “reward or punish” you based on how attentive youwere.

The minuscule amount of self control he had kept him from doing it. 

Instead he maintained his facade of aloofness, like he was simply tolerating your presence. He could tell it was disheartening you, and it yanked on his heartstrings, but he refused to let himself act on it. It would be too slippery of a slope. It wasn’t time yet. 

Yet, it didn’t matter how far the moon traveled across the sky or how curt his answers were, you stayed put. You only left once to put pajamas on (thankfully not the ones that drove him into a frenzy, but just a pair of sleepy pants and a tank top) and had been glued to the spot ever since. A little past midnight and he could hear you yawning. Few hours beyond that and you were nodding off. He even told you to go to bed once or twice, and you’d only respond with “I’m okay.” 

Truthfully, it made him feel a little fuzzy inside that you were so determined to be his friend. Tomura was used to sleepless nights and insomnia. He wasn’t entirely sure that you were,and he knew you had a busy day that day. The fact that you were so adamant about staying by his side despite that filled him with warmth and only served to increase his ever-growing neediness for you. 

However, around two thirty, he heard you jostle behind him. His heart sank, figuring that you were leaving despite the fact that he knew it was an inevitability. I mean you had to go to bed sometime, right? His eyes couldn’t help but follow you through to the door, lingering unprofessionally long on a certain rear curve beneath your pants, having to physically restrain himself from touching you. However, instead of turning toward the bedroom area, you headed to the facilities. 

You weren’t leaving, you were going to the bathroom. 

His suspicion was confirmed when he turned around and your cell phone and drink were still strewn about the table behind him. Your drink. That you were drinking. Your drink? Your drink...

He reaches his hand in his pocket and pulls out a bottle of prescription pills. Sleeping pills Kurogiri had gotten for him when his insomnia had reached an all time high and was making him sick. He kept them on him in case he ever needed them, but he still had plenty left... 

He eyes the liquid, and then the pills. Back and forth. Back and forth. He knows exactly what he’s thinking, but refuses to admit it. He wasn’t seriously thinking of drugging you. Was he? 

You were so cute, so trusting. Leaving your drink out in a villain hideout where anyone could tamper with it. You looked so tired. You weren’t taking care of yourself. Taxing your own body Just to keep close to him. But you could do both. You could take care of yourself and stay close to him. 

He was going to help you. 

Pushing up from his chair, he pops the bottle open and shakes a pill out into his hand. Wait, better make it two. Just in case. You needed your rest. 

He makes sure to keep an ear out forthe bathroom door as he creeps toward your beverage. When he’s certain he has time, he plops the pills into your drink, quickly stirring it with his lengthy fingers so that it’s dissolved by the time you come back. When he’s satisfied,he holds up the drink to the light, just to make sure there’s no stray pill dust lingering around that could catch your attention. 

He’s not doing anything wrong. He’s helping you! You really should be sleeping you know, and it’s his job as leaderto take care of you if you won’t take care of yourself. 

He hears the door open at the farend of the hall and he scurries to his seat, nearly stumbling over the giant bulk of cords that lead to the tv. Regardless, when you enter the room again, he’s sitting in his same spot, game unpaused and face impassive. You’re none the wiser to his little trick. 

You shuffle back to your little cove on the sofa and settle in, pulling your blanket up over your hips before turning and watching him play again. His lip can’t help but curl in a devious smile as he hears the familiar clink of the glass as you lift your drink to your lips, taking several deep gulps. Mission completed. 

Over the next hour, your movements become sloppier and eventually fewer and farther between. By four am, he can hear you breathing even out completely and you’ve stopped moving entirely. He’s fairly certain you’ve fallen asleep, but he needs to be sure.

“Hey.” 

No response from you. 

He says it again, a little louder and more harsh this time. 

Still no response. You never ignore him, so you must really be out. 

He pauses his game, slowly lifting himself up from his sitting position and turns towards you. Much like he expected, you are dead asleep on the sofa, your drink completely empty. It’s now or never. 

He practically crawls toward you until he’s standing at the foot of the sofa, leering down at your sleeping face. You look so peaceful, so tender, so cute. He can’t help but to lean down and gently press the tips of three of his fingers to your cheek. Your skin is warm and welcoming, the complete opposite of his bony digits. So he lets his hand relax a bit, keeping his pinky and his thumb held outward as he lets his palm rest on you as well. 

He traces over the gentle curve of your face, cradling your cheeks and feeling up around your forehead, making apoint to brush the stray hair out of the way. He watches you as you sleep, trying to engrave your features into his memory intimately since it’s something he can’t do when you’re awake. Before long, he realizes he’s sitting on his knees, leaning in so close to you that he can feel the gentle breeze of your breath against his skin. He’s aching now, wants to be able to grab you so hard it hurts but he knows he can’t, so he’ll settle for exploring. 

One of his fingertip makes its way downward, tracing the outline of your slightly agape lips. The texture is sucha stark contrast to his own that he almost pulls away in insecurity. You’re so soft, so plush. It’s nothing like the cracks and crevasses that mar his own flesh. He can’t help but move his hand slightly downward, poking innocently at the plump jut of your lower lip. 

He does this for a moment before he realizes he’s trying to fool himself. He don’t want to poke you. He wants something else. 

It takes him several minutes to workup the courage, and several minutes more to get close enough, but eventually he’s so close to you that his mouth is barely brushing against yours. He wantsto do this when you’re awake, wants you to want it too, but it seems like nothing but a distant fantasy. This seems like this the best he’s ever going toget. 

Gingerly, he pushes down, pressinghis lips to yours. 

It’s innocent at first, at least until the taste of you makes its way inside his mouth. Like an animal feasting on its first taste of human blood, this sparks a dark, carnal need in him that twists his resolve into dust. It doesn’t take long before his hand is clutching the side of your neck, pulling you closer to him as he slips his tongue betweenyour pliant lips. His other hand is resting on your exposed collarbone, dangerously close to the curve of your breasts. 

He lets his instincts take over, sighing into your mouth and rapidly spiraling into total mental failure. He’s biting on your lower lip and sucking, tongue exploring every last centimeter he can reach. He wants more. He needs more. He doesn’t know much right now but he knows if he can’t have you, he will fucking die. 

It isn’t until he hears you moanthat he practically short circuits. Your arms are covered in goosebumps, andyou’re wiggling slightly in your sleep. Both of your lips are gratuitously coated in his slippery saliva, mingling your fluids into one intoxicating taste. His mind is going blank and his vision is practically tunneling. He can feel his hand on the strap of your tank top, practically ripping it down.

He’s losing control and he knows it. So he does the only thing he can do. 

He shoves himself away from you like you were on fire. 

He kicks away from the sofa so fast it practically rips his pants off, tearing the hood of his hoodie off his head as the bottom gets caught beneath in the friction. 

The noises emitting from yourthroat, however innocent, are positively sinful in his mind. Your unseen gravitational force is trying to lure him back in, hands moving of their own accord as they reach for you again. It’s too much, it’s too fucking much and if he doesn’t stop now, he knows he’s going to do something that both of you will regret. 

The whine he produces is akin to a kicked puppy dog. He wants it, he wants it so badly and he could take it if he wanted. But he can’t. He can’t do that to you. Preferably when the time comes, he wants you to be just as willing as he is, maybe even more so. He has to lock his desires away for another night, despite the screaming and reeling in his mind. 

He yanks the console cord out without saving, chucking the controller into the corner and shutting down the tv. He cements it in his mind that he’s going to leave you be, however badly every bone in his body is protesting it. As he goes to leave though, he spares you one last glance.

Your body is still goosebumped, and you’re shivering slightly. Your blanket had fallen halfway down your thighs during his craze, and now you were probably cold. Guilt chides him into returning to you one last time, if only to pull your blanket over your shoulders. 

He contemplates carrying you to yourroom, but ultimately decides against it. It would raise too many questions. You’ll be safe here, no one would hurt you. You might wake up with a slight muscle cramp, but it’s nothing compared to the bumps and bruises you get on thedaily. You’d sleep like the dead too, catch up on all that rest you’d been sacrificing for him. 

He flips off the light and stalksdown the hallway to his room, leaving you to your slumber. He’s acutely awareof the straining beneath his jeans, kicking his legs awkwardly to avoidchafing. He concedes to himself one thing though. He’ll make a detour to yourroom. It’s laundry day tomorrow, and things tend to get lost. You wouldn’t miss a thing or two. 

[gerberbabey]

teenagers | platonic!pogues

To celebrate reaching 100 followers I meant to post my first request but i lagged Shoutout to that anon!

Request: fem!reader is from obx BUT shes not the usual denim shorts with a cute tank top and minimal makeup yanno shes a little more alt tiktok girl style/euphoria style and shes SUPER sassy and badass. can the scenario be: at a party and stands up to rafe for kie and its her meeting the pogues? so jus the pogues x platonic!reader.

a/n: to the person that sent the request, i forgot to say in the ask: I love you and i appreciate you. hope you love this ❤️   also the hardest part about this was picking out the outfit 💀

masterlist

warnings: cussing, rafe’s a dickhead, underaged drinking, there is talk of sex no actual sex tho sorry, terrible writing (idk who editing is)

♫ Teenagers by My Chemical Romance ♫

As someone who’s lived her entire life on an island, people found it rather odd that you weren’t much of an “island” person. Despite being born and raised in Kildare County, in the Outer Banks, aka “Paradise on Earth”, there was so much about you that didn’t conform to the same lifestyle as those around you. You tended to step away from doing ocean related activities, stood out specifically in the way you presented yourself, and more recently spent more of your time on the mainland than the islands now that school was out for the summer.

“Do you wanna...go...to the....” Sarah trailed off as she stared up at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to your ceilings. Any idea she had involved dressing down into swim wear and going out to the beach or just ocean in general. And she knew you would turn it down despite being grounded and therefore stuck on the island.

When you’d called her and told her that you were bored and in turn needed her company and entertainment, she didn’t really expect you to tell her that your parents had prohibited you from taking the ferry out to the mainland for the next month.

“Y’know, what’d you even do? To get grounded?” Sarah questioned as she lay on your bed while music played from the vintage record player your parents had copped for you a few years back.

“Me and my friends got caught trespassing,” you mumbled, “It was really stupid.”

“You got caught trespassing?” Sarah scoffed.

“Yeah and the only reason we go caught in the first place was because Andy-you remember Andy?” Sarah nodded her head despite the fact that she didn’t now who you were talking about, “Got super high off an indica strain and fell asleep! Lin and Nico got away cus they left me and TK to take care of him! Andy’s fucking huge!”

“Wha-Ok, why were you even trespassing?”

“Cus...we wanted to skate,” you explained and you rolled your eyes Sarah raised her brows at you.

“(Y/N), you got arrested because you wanted to skate?!”

“No, ok I almost got arrested because Andy’s a big motherfucker!” you retorted and Sarah threw her hands up in exasperation.

It was ridiculous but it made sense. Not only were you and your mainland friends kind of reckless, it made sense that your parents grounded you to the island. Sure they were actually extremely lax and reasonable (If Sarah were to describe your parents she would call them Hippies. Hippies straight out of the 60s.)They were understanding of who you were as a person and loved you for it but always warned you that they drew the line at two things and those things were jail time and life threatening injuries.

Sometimes she wondered how the two of you were friends, but she wouldn’t have had it any other way. You were one of the few people who didn’t make her feel trapped in the relationship you had. You didn’t have overbearing expectations for her and didn’t base her image off of the one she presented to the public. You were friends with her because of who she was rather than who she seemed to be.

“Ok well, your parents aren’t forcing you to stay home so what do you wanna do?” Sarahh questioned and you sighed.

“I don’t know...I...I literally don’t even do anything on this island.”

Sarah glanced at you and watched as you looked at yourself in your mirror. You’d been going through your closet and had already tried on 6 different outfits since she’d gotten there.

“I heard there’s gonna be a kegger on the boneyard?” Sarah brought up and you paused, looking at her through the mirror. Sarah raised her brows, “We could go to the kegger, drink, smoke, and have fun...or we could stay here...bored...while you try on more outfits,” Sarah tried to make the second option less appealing but considering you were...well, you, you only smiled at her.

“Will you tell me how pretty I look?” you fluttered your eyelashes and Sarah scoffed out a laugh as she grabbed a shirt from the pile of clothes on your bed and bundled it up so she could throw it at you.

“(Y/N) I sat here for 2 hours and watched you do your make up. We’re going to the kegger,” she finalized, “You might as well enjoy yourself while your stuck on the island.”

“Bold of you to assume I’ll enjoy myself,” you scoffed, tossing the shirt aside.

"Seriously why don’t you give anyone on this island-aside from me-a chance?” Sarah gave you a hopeful smile.

“Because your brother and his friends wear polos, khaki shorts, and moccasins,” you gave her a mocking smile back and Sarah shrugged as the two of you laughed. You could never understand why Kook boys decided to dress the way they did. Sure the clothes they wore were brand clothing and ridiculously expensive, but that didn’t mean they necessarily looked good.

“Ok, y’know what, I’ll call Topper and we could head out right now. Is that what you wanna wear-”

“Ugh, Topper Thornton? Are you talking to him now?” you groaned and Sarah gave you a look.

“What? He’s cute!” Sarah defended and you rolled your eyes.

“I just don’t trust it. For whatever reason, every cute guy on this island has daddy issues,” you undid the belt around your waist and slipped the large button up shirt off your shoulders, leaving yourself standing in your underwear  and jewelry as you pointed to Sarah to emphasize your point.

“Well Topper obviously does not have daddy issues.”

“Yeah because he has mommy issues,” you snorted and Sarah couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped her lips.

“That’s not funny (Y/N)!” she chastised though she was giggling behind her hand.

“Uh, yeah it is,” you shot back and you looked around you at the pile of clothes spread across the floor. You picked up some clothes and too your time to put them on (just to irritate Sarah a little) before you turned to the mirror and looked over your outfit and how it matched with your make up.

“Are you good?” Sarah asked as she slipped her sandals onto her feet. You tilted your head and reached up to muss up your hair a little before nodding.

“Yeah ok,” you answered before you went over to turn off your record player. You stepped over the clothes you’d thrown around the room as you followed after Sarah, making sure to turn your lights off as you went.

“That’s Topper’s car,” Sarah pointed out once you turned around from locking your front door (your parents had banned you from the mainland but that didn’t mean they weren’t allowed to go live their lives) and you tried not to cringe as you noticed that Rafe and Kelce were also in the car.

“Wow, the whole frats here,” you mumbled as Sarah opened the door and let you slide in first.

“Hey (Y/N),” Kelce greeted kindly and you smiled at him, scooting a bit closer so that Sarah could fit in.

“Hi,” you greeted. Kelce was alright. He didn’t really do much aside from follow around Rafe and Topper but outside of that he wasn’t the worst. You thought that maybe if he didn’t feel the need to follow those two around you would get along with him pretty easily.

“Hey,” Topper greeted you awkwardly from the rearview mirror, before he grinned at Sarah. You rolled your eyes even as Sarah nudged at your ribs.

“(Y/N),” Rafe drawled and you tilted your head to the side as you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Rafe,” you replied pointedly.

There was an awkward, tense silence in the car before Topper cleared his throat.

“Let’s go?” he questioned and all of you mumbled back some type of confirmation.

By the time you’d gotten to the Boneyard you were overheated in Topper’s car. You’d shrugged off your cardigan, ignoring Rafe’s glance back at you as you continued to mumble to Sarah about something. Topper pulled up to the side of the road, carefully parking his car amongst the billions of other cars that found themselves at the Boneyard.

“I’m literally sweating so much right now,” you whined as you stumbled out of the car, “Why is it so hot in your car Topper?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have worn that sweater,” Topper pointed out and you gave him a look.

“Don’t knock my outfit just cus I know how to dress myself,” you scoffed before you headed off, tugging Sarah along with you. The three boys followed after you, talking between themselves. A few people greeted your lot as you made your way into the heart of the Boneyard, where the kegger was being held. There was a bonfire lit and noise all around. You and Sarah found yourselves mixing in with a group of Tourons, talking about something or another. Rafe, Kelce, and Topper were standing only a few feet away with some of their usual Kook friends.

“Should we get a drink?” you asked Sarah as you settled into the atmosphere and Sarah took a deep breath before she looked over to the keg. In the center of the beach party was usually John B and his usual crew of JJ, Pope, and Kie. The keg was currently being manned by Kie Carrera herself, her 3 friends out of sight. Sarah pursed her lips and shook her head.

“I don’t really wanna head over there,” she told you and you raised a brow.

“You’re gonna drag me to this kegger and....not go to the keg...because of a girl you kind of had beef with your freshman year?”

“(Y/N),” Sarah said firmly and you rolled your eyes.

“Ok I’ll go get us drinks,” you put your arms up and Sarah opened her mouth to protest but you only waved her off as you made your way through the beach. The sand was a little firmer around the Boneyard so you didn’t have to worry that much about your shoes or your ankles giving out on you.

You stepped into where you figured people were lining up to be handed drinks and smoothed out your outfit, ignoring the looks being shot your way. You were used to those at this point.

“Do you always walk off by yourself?”

You tried not to roll your eyes into the back of your head as Rafe stepped up beside you, following the motion of the haphazard line to get closer to the keg.

“Do you always have to bother me?” you replied and Rafe shook his head.

“Yeah I don’t know what your problem with me is (Y/N) but-”

“But?” You cut off Rafe, staring up at him as he clenched his jaw in irritation, “We don’t need to get along Rafe. I’d limit all unnecessary interaction with you if I could, but you just...keep following me around.”

Rafe stayed quiet as you turned away and stepped forward.

“Hey, can I get two?” you requested and the girl manning the keg, Kie, laughed as she filled up a red solo cup.

“Geez up for a wild night?” she looked up, half way to handing you your first cup, and stopped short as she noticed who she was talking to.

“More like an ok night,” you told her taking the cup from her and ignoring the look of shock on her face.

“Oh uh...yeah...I totally get you,” she laughed awkwardly and picked up another red solo cup to fill. You rolled your eyes while she wasn’t looking. You didn’t wanna be caught up in whatever beef these two girls had. You were friends with Sarah sure but it’s not like what Kie had allegedly done was that huge of a deal. Not like anyone had actually gotten arrested (Literally. The cops had arrived and had only asked for the noise level to go down). And you knew Kie. She and Sarah had been best friends at the Kook academy your freshman year and you had been acquaintances with both of them. And though their relationship broke abruptly, and Sarah had begun getting closer to you, you didn’t understand the need to ostracize Kie for something that you weren’t sure she even did.

“Uh so how’s that going so far?” Kie questioned glancing at you and you shrugged.

“I mean I’ve been here for a,” you checked your bare wrist, “solid 20 minutes at least and I’m not arrested or dead so it’s alright.”

“For you, 20 minutes seems pretty good,” Kie joked and she paused unsure if she could even joke with you like this. It was common knowledge that you tended to avoid the Outer Banks and it’s residents as much as you could once no longer tied down to school. Yet as you only chuckled and agreed, Kie smiled, tucking some lose hair behind her ear, “I like your outfit by the way. Not very beach practical, but still very cute.”

“Am I ever beach practical,” you responded and Kie laughed as she nodded in agreement.

“That’s true.”

As Kie reached out to hand you your second cup, a larger hand snatched it up. The lighthearted atmosphere immediately dropped to a tense one as the two of you looked up in unison.

“Oh shit thanks Kiara,” Rafe laughed and you and Kie both shot him a glare.

“Don’t call me Kiara,” Kie hissed and Rafe only shrugged, smirking smugly.

“I think I’ll call a rat whatever I want,” he spit and Kie looked down at the sand in dejection as you frowned at Rafe.

“What the fuck Rafe, are you serious?”

“Hey, I just call out it how it is,” Rafe shrugged.

“I’m not a rat, kook,” Kie’s jaw was clenched in anger.

“Just leave dude,” you told Rafe, “You’re literally being an asshole for nothing.”

“Are you seriously defending her (Y/N)?” Rafe turned to you and you squared up in front of him despite his obvious height advantage. You wouldn’t let someone like Rafe Cameron intimidate you, “I thought you were friends with my sister?”

“And this is any of your business how?” you questioned and Rafe shoulders straightened up in an obvious feeling of defensiveness. Kie’s eyes were wide in shock as she glanced between you and Rafe. Something she definitely didn’t expect was one of Sarah’s closest friends coming to defend her against Sarah’s brother. But you had always been different from the other Kooks and Kie should’ve never underestimated that aspect of you.

“Hey you got an issue or something Kook!?” a voice called out and Kie watched as JJ, with John B and Pope following after him, made their way through the crowd of people. Rafe looked at them over your head but you didn’t even glance away.

“This isn’t your issue Pogues. It’s not always about you,” Rafe huffed and you tilted your head.

“Oh and it’s about you, Rafe?” you questioned and the attention turned back to you. Your necklaces jingled as you adjusted your footing, “Of course it is right? Why else would you be hanging around a bunch of teenagers?”

“You need to watch what you say next,” Rafe breathed, a hostile smile on his face.

“You’re an adult Rafe...and you subject yourself to hanging around people three years younger than you because you have no other way of maintaining your bullshit superiority,” you spoke in a low tone, eager to get under Rafe’s nerves and Rafe’s nerves only, “Oh...sorry if those words were too big for you,” you smiled up at him as your audience chuckled at Rafe’s expense.

From the side the four Pogues watched the interaction go down with wide eyes. They had barely acknowledged the Kooks who had pushed their way to the front of the scene and Sarah, Topper, and Kelce watched the two of you with anticipation. Rafe’s jaw clenched before he licked his lips and smiled that predatory smile of his, he leaned in close to you and you didn’t make a single attempt at back down or away from him.

“Yeah I’m real sure you didn’t think that when I was fucking you on my family’s boat the other night,” he said and a glance to the side indicated that the closest people, that being Kie and her Pogue friends, had heard him. You huffed as you tried to keep your cool.

“Y’know what Rafe? Maybe I would’ve actually enjoyed you fucking me...if you weren’t so far up your dad’s ass-” You gasped in unison with the crowd’s sudden yelling as Rafe threw his cup-drink and all- onto your entire front.

“OOOH SHIT!”

“What the fuck Rafe!?”

“Rafe stop it!”

Topper was quick to pull back Rafe as JJ and John B rushed to step in front of you. You panted heavily as Pope and Kie pulled you back and away from where a fight was very likely going to happen.

You sputtered at the sudden beer that had gone up your nose and you brought a hand up to try and wipe it off of your face, your make up likely ruined beyond repair at this point.

“You are such a pussy Rafe!” JJ yelled and Rafe let out a roar of anger as he broke out of Topper’s grip and shoved at JJ. John B shoved him back and return and soon enough the first punch was thrown. The crowd jeered at them in excitement, cheering them on as Topper, John B, JJ, and Rafe pummeled one another.

“Hey hey hey, are you ok?” Kie questioned you in a haste and you huffed as you wiped at your face once more, slicking your wet hair back.

“Fine-I’m fine! It’s literally...beer and a plastic cup,” you told her to try and stop her from fretting. If she was anything like Sarah...You shook your head and tried to gently push away Pope’s hands as you turned to watch the fight go down. The Kooks seemed to have gotten the upper hand so far and though you cringed you weren’t too surprised. Rafe was a pretty big guy, bigger than John B at least, and Topper seemed to hop onto JJ when the other blonde was already down.

“I think you should be more worried about your friends,” you pointed out and Kie and Pope whipped their heads up to watch their friends fight a losing battle.

“Shit!” Pope hissed.

“Dammit,” Kie breathed, “Get the hell off of them!” she yelled fruitlessly.

“Should I call the cops or something?” you questioned and Pope and Kie stared at you with wide eyes.

“What?! No!” Pope yelled and you put your arms up in defense.

“Ok jeez relax,” you chastised and Pope shrugged, embarrassed. The three of you watched the fight for only a moment longer before you cursed and rushed into the midst of it.

“(Y/N)?!”

“Jesus what is she doing?!-”

“(Y/N) stop!”  

A flurry of voices called out to you as jumped onto Toppers back and tried to get him off of JJ. Topper struggled against you, clearly disoriented and agitated.

“Get-” Topper pulled your arms from around his shoulders and you yelped as he shoved you off. You landed harshly on the sand but quickly scrambled to get back up. If you learned anything from skating, it was get the fuck up as soon as you could and pretend shit didn’t hurt.

“What the fuck are you doing (Y/N)!?” Topper yelled at you and you shoved him back to the general direction of where you figured Kelce and Sarah were as JJ tried to get himself together and Rafe and John B grappled with one another.

“Stop Topper,” you told him firmly before you turned, keeping your hand on Topper’s chest, “Rafe! Quit it, for fuck’s sake!”

JJ had gotten up at this point and was quick to shove Rafe off of John B and into the sand. John B staggered to stand up straight and you winced at the bruises already forming on his face. The two pogues stumbled back and away from Rafe and the Kooks, leaving you in the middle of their standoff.

“Alright, party’s over! Get the hell off our side!” JJ yelled and there was a murmur within the crowd as they began to disperse. Pogues and Kooks sneered at one another as they walked off toward their cars and Tourons only shrugged off the events of the night, clearly not looped into the deeper conflict of the island.

“C’mon (Y/N),” Rafe spit blood out onto the sand as Topper, Kelce, and Sarah stood behind him.

“Fuck you Rafe” you retorted, crossing your arms. You looked past him to Sarah and the girl only furrowed her brows, unsure of what you wanted her to do.

“Why don’t you just leave her alone Cameron?” JJ moved to stand beside you and everyone, including you, looked at JJ in surprise. John B raised a brow at his best friend but moved forward to stand by your other side as Rafe ground his teeth. The tall male ran a hand through his slicked back hair, pushing into a messy look that you’d usually be all over, but you couldn’t stand him right now.

“Fine, if you wanna stay here with these dirty Pogues, than be my fucking guest,” Rafe huffed and you only shrugged, unbothered.

“Better than being around you right now.”

“(Y/N)...” Sarah called and you looked at her. Her eyebrows were furrowed in distress and you couldn’t help the pang of guilt that shot through you for a moment but you stood your ground, “C’mon...please?”

“Sarah I love you but I didn’t even wanna come here tonight, let alone hang around your psycho brother. I’m not leaving with you guys,” you concluded, before you reached down to take your shoes off, “I’m just gonna fuckin’ walk.”

You ignored the calls of your name as you walked away from the boneyard and out onto the street. You didn’t really care that your socks were probably super dirty now, or that it was starting to get cold and you were drenched in beer. Alright...well you did kind of care that you were drenched and smelled like beer. You pulled your phone out and sighed at the message from your parents telling you that they’d be staying in your grandparent’s home in the mainland.

All your friends were on the mainland. Aside from Sarah. And maybe Scarlet but you really didn’t wanna deal with her right now.

The sound of a car pulling up beside you made you roll your eyes.

“Leave me alone please,” you told them, not even sparing whoever it was a glance as you continued walking.

“Not happening princess.”

You turned to look at JJ and the Pogues in surprise.

“Kie?” you questioned pausing in your trek. Their van followed as John B pressed on the breaks.

“Hey (Y/N),” Kie was leaning out the window of the passengers seat, her eyebrows furrowed in worry, “Let us take you home?”

“I really don’t-”

“C’mon (Y/L/N), it’s freezing and your dripping beer. Just get in the Twinkie,” JJ pulled the van door open even further, motioning for you to get in. It was kind of them, really it was. But JJ’s tone had irritated you and your hardheadedness so you only crossed your arms, your shoes dangling from the tips of your fingers.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because we....are offering you warmth and transportation?” JJ sassed.

“JJ. Shut up,” Pope slapped JJ’s chest and the blonde shot him an offended look. Kie rolled her eyes at them and opened the passengers side, stepping out of the car and walking up to you. She hugged herself, a bit insecure as she stood a few feet from you.

“I just..really wanna thank you. For defending me against Rafe,” Kie started, “And uh...I feel like I’ve always kind of judged you just cus you became Sarah’s friend after what happened between me and her, but you’re really cool...and you didn’t have to defend me, but you did.”

You shrugged.

“Doesn’t take much to be a good person,” you answered and Kie nodded.

“Yeah...um but..I just feel bad...that you got caught in the middle of that when you didn’t have to. So please let us take you home? I’m not even trying to...return the favor or anything...it’s just the right thing to do for someone who's always been cool with me...”

You pursed your lips and bit your cheek as Kie looked at you pleadingly.

“You are so corny...” you murmured and Kie only chuckled as she led you over to the van. She slid the door closed behind you as you made your way over to a vacant spot.

“Hey there,” JJ greeted with a grin and Pope waved at you awkwardly.

“Not gonna happen Maybank,” you told him bluntly and his grin dropped.

“Ohoshit,” Pope coughed and Kie snorted as John B shook his head, shifting the gears and driving off toward the other side of the island.

“Wha-hey you never know,” JJ teased and you chuckled.

“Hmm, the rebellious surfer boy isn’t really my type JJ. Sorry.”

“Really? What’s your type then?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you smirked, crossed your legs and leaning back against your seat.

“I would like to know actually, that’s why I asked,” JJ quipped and you laughed.

“Ok fine...My type is Heyward here,” you nodded toward the boy and he straightened up in surprise. Pope’s mouth dropped and he floundered for a moment, pointing to himself.

“Pope?! Really?” JJ yelped as Pope smacked him upside the head.

“Screw you JJ,” Pope hissed, though there wasn’t any true animosity in it.

“Yeah I mean Pope’s really cute. Aside from Pope I’d also say Kie but I didn’t want you getting too excited.”

Pope flushed at the compliment and JJ’s eyes widened as he looked over to Kie. The girl turned to look over her shoulder in shock. She turned back to face the front, her cheeks warm, and a smile on her face as John B chuckled from the driver’s seat.

“Sorry bubba but I’d pick Pope too,” John B said and JJ made an offended noise.

“Hey!”

Your group laughed and you couldn’t help but sink into the comfortable and fun atmosphere that came with being with these Pogues. Perhaps you should’ve tried to give them a chance before.

“Oh shit uh where do you live again?” John B asked.

no part 2 sorry :/

[gabriel-gabdiel]

Youtou Shinnoken: Demon Sword Chapter 58: Living Sin (Part 10)

The B-Class Toguro fights the S-Class Yusuke Urameshi before unleashing a power beyond the one he had before he died.

Tenro, the reincarnation of Makoto Shishio, finally makes an appearance and wreaks havoc against all the Reikai Senshi before facing off against the man who killed him originally: Kenshin Himura.

The original source of this idea comes from Chad Yang. I continued his story idea found here.

The rest of the chapters of my Yuyu Hakusho and Rurouni Kenshin crossover fan fiction are available here and here. Enjoy.

First | Previous | Next (Youtou Shinnoken) | Next (Demon Sword)

About a hundred years or so ago...

In 1878, after fighting Kenshin "Battousai" Himura to a draw, Makoto Shishio died in a literal blaze of glory (through his own spontaneous combustion when his overheating body broke its limits) and went to Hell.

When he got there, he ended up right before the imposing, gigantic figure of Enma Daio, who asked him, "What are you doing here, mortal? Go back to the Gates of Judgment in order to be judged."

Shishio then replied, "Get out of my throne. I'm the new King of Hell."

***

Youtou Shinnoken: Demon Sword

A Rurouni Kenshin/Yuyu Hakusho Crossover Fan Fiction Story by Chester Castañeda

Original Concept by Chad Yang

Tenro has finally arrived in Okushiri. How will the Reikai Senshi answer his challenge, especially after learning the truth about him?

Disclaimer: Yuyu Hakusho is the rightful property of Yoshihiro Togashi, Shueisha, Fuji TV, and Studio Pierrot. Rurouni Kenshin is the rightful property of Nobuhiro Watsuki, Shueisha, Shonen Jump, Viz, Sony Studios, Fuji TV, Studio Gallop, Studio Deen, and ADV. This disclaimer also covers all the other copyrighted materials that are far too many to mention here. Don't sue me please, I'm very poor.

***

Chapter 58: Living Sin (Part 10)

***

Back at the Okushiri Military Base...

A shouting, crying Yahiko kneeled in front of Botan's unmoving body, seeing the huge hole in Botan's person.

A hole in the shinigami who somehow was also his kendo master from a former life, Kaoru Kamiya  (he didn't quite understand it).

Had he failed again? Like before, when Enishi Yukishiro...?

No. He would not let Kaoru down again. Not after what the Kenshingumi had been through right after Kenshin Himura died and...!

"Bloody Rain," said Yumi Komagata, who again made it rain blood mixed with what seemed like scalpels.

Right above the dark clouds filled with the scarlet squall were Houji Sadojima's shikigami (familiars) that looked like grim reapers in and of themselves due to their ragged clothes, faceless voids covered by hoods for heads, and long scythes.

And beyond them was Gatekeeper Itsuki, who had a mini-gun at the ready in order to test the limits of a solidified ghost body before it became incorporeal once more. Knowing that gunpowder had no spirit energy for Yahiko to neutralize.

"DOU GAMI! (GOD ON EARTH!)" Yahiko's earth-shattering technique blasted away the razor-sharp precipitation and Itsuki's suppressive fire into oblivion, allowing him to dissipate the slicing rain bullets around him and the soul-crushing pressure of the borrowed aura of the Onmyouji (Occult Priest).

"Insolent welp...!" Houji said the thing.

"TEN GAMI! (GOD IN HEAVEN!)" Myojin shouted as he did a much more powerful version of the God on Earth that shot him up high into the heavens. Even the nimbus clouds parted from the strength of his slash.

This rocked and shook the military base like an earthquake while the Tokyo Samurai Descendant himself approached the Onmyouji like the resulting tsunami of such an earthquake.

"INGA GAMI! (KARMIC GOD!)"

It was this technique that suddenly turned the poisonous miasma of the Overfiend into something else. Something filled with positive energy and life-giving, nourishing soul power.

Sanosuke Sagara then noticed how the crimson, purple, and black miasma of jaki surrounding them changed in color, texture, and volume. Flickering back and forth from a cool blue wave to a scarlet mess.

He then checked on Botan, only to gasp in surprise despite being a ghost that didn't need to breathe or have sudden oxygen intakes.

The hole in her chest caused by one of Itsuki's black holes had begun healing. The jaki surrounding them, as Sano suspected, was slowly being purified into reiki, which in turn the ferry-girl used to heal herself.

Not only herself, actually. She shared the wealth by beaming the spirit energy she absorbed unto Kazuma Kuwabara and Sanosuke too. Replenishing their depleted spiritual power and increasing their health at the same time.

A full restore for all her allies, if you would.

'What's going on here? Is this Yahiko's doing? Or hers?'

It was actually both.

Yahiko neutralized the overpowering potency of the Chojin's jaki just short of making it altogether disappear. Botan then purified the weakened negative energy into reiki she used to heal herself and the others while also powering them up, as though she filled the role of the Onmyouji for the Reikai Senshi (Spirit World Warriors).

Meanwhile, Kuwabara and Botan exchanged knowing glances.

They'd gone through this incident before. To be more specific, they witnessed Yusuke do the same thing Yahiko (and Kaoru) attempted to do firsthand.

It was when Urameshi got a hold of the Meikai Crystal and attempted to use it against the last Meikai God standing, Yakumo. The negative energy almost consumed him before his sheer willpower (and at the time hidden demonic lineage) turned the jaki into reiki instead.

Yahiko had decided it was easier to weaken the Chojin's overwhelming negative energy so that Kaoru could turn it into positive (spirit) energy instead of attempting to neutralize or seal it all at once.

The tag team of Yahiko and Kaoru allowed them to replicate what Yusuke himself did alone.

Break it down to its core components first, bit by bit.

The samurai boy then said, "BANZEN GAMI. (PERFECT GOD.)"

***

"Great fighters refuse to lose, but you refuse to win just to get back that feeling and exhilaration of conquering something greater than you. So what do you do now that you're in a world where nothing is greater than you?"

Those were Younger Toguro's words even as Yusuke Urameshi effortlessly tanked through and walked down his offense while blasting him to nigh-oblivion with the Renshya Rei-Gan (Rapid-Fire Spirit Gun).

'What the hell was that supposed to mean?!' Yusuke thought.

Was Toguro Ototo right? Had Urameshi become too powerful? Was he holding back his power level in order to drag out fights he would've easily won otherwise, thus endangering the lives of those he protected?

Ha. As if.

Those words truly did sound deep. They'd sound even deeper and more meaningful if said by a guy who wasn't getting his ass kicked care of him.

If that were true, he would've already hunted down and killed the Chojin himself. He wasn't even the most powerful being in Makai (Demon World), let alone all three worlds. He was a level below the likes of Mukuro and Yomi as well as his deceased ancestor/father figure Raizen.

Not to mention Raizen's old comrades having power levels so high they could band together and conquer both the Human and Spirit Worlds if they so chose.

No, instead of it being a case of Yusuke growing too ridiculously powerful, it was instead a matter of Toguro remaining stagnant and weak by comparison.

The martial artist who belonged to the "baby boomer" generation might've been powerful for a demon not trapped in Makai and blocked off by the Spirit World Barrier. However, he was a pissant compared to the likes of the monsters Urameshi eventually faced in the Demon World Unification Tournament.

On top of all that, Yusuke didn't want to hear that nonsense from the King of Holding Back. The Emperor of Power Percentages.

"Rando's Kugai (World of Suffering) is a low-level technique used by monks to empathically feel the pain and suffering of those around them. The fact that you're still suffering from its effects isn't because of its curse but because of how you reacted to it."

Yusuke frowned. Indeed, for quite sometime since his fight with Rando, every punch he threw at his opponents he also felt. For once, he found out what it was like to get punched by himself.

However, it also served as his training. The more he felt his own punches, the more resistant he became of his own power, thus raising his threshold of pain and his ability to take a punch. He could dish it out and take it.

He wasn't sure he could say the same about Toguro.

His ripcord muscles strained to their utmost, the Younger Toguro ended up having his muscle fibers ripped apart, cracked, and shattered like pottery. The anabolic state he used to grow his muscles to absurd sizes ended up completely wasted because he couldn't handle A-Level to S-Level bursts of power.

Yusuke nevertheless conceded one point to Toguro: The teenager did miss staking his life and limb to defeat an enemy, using all his strength to defend his friends and family.

He hadn't really done so lately. Not really. The last time he had a satisfying match was against Yomi.

Ever since then, his enemies mainly resorted to trickery reminiscent of Kido Asato freezing him with his shadow powers or Hiei kidnapping Keiko Yukimura to defeat him.

All of the Chojin's Shin Ju ended up as weaklings compared to Urameshi. Each and every one of them. To go against them with his full powers would be a waste of effort.

Like lighting a candle with a flamethrower or cutting grass with a chainsaw. Complete overkill.

Then again, wasn't this also the reason why Toguro, even though he was only B-Level, tended to hide his power level or only use a percentage of his power?

Huh. They were more alike than he thought.

***

Botan smiled in spite of herself. Or rather, her lips curved upward on their own and then said things not of her own volition due to her astral body's second inhabitant: Kaoru Kamiya.

"There it is. The Perfect God. That's Yahiko's answer to mastering the Mujinken."

A hundred years or so ago, Kaoru originally taught Yahiko the Tenchijinken (forethought-based techniques involving the prediction of an opponent's moves) and taught Yutaro Tsukayama the Mujinken (reflex-based techniques that reacted to whatever the opponent did in the heat of the moment) to fill in their respective weaknesses.

The two were actually more suited for each other's techniques, since Yahiko fought more off-the-cuff while Yutaro fought more methodically.

She intentionally sealed away the techniques that played to the two's strengths so that they could overcome their weaknesses with the opposite techniques, believing that someday they'd figure out how to do each other's ultimate attacks down the line anyway.

While the Inga Gami showed Yahiko's version of methodical fighting (with him focusing on every counterstrike to unleash the best counters without any wasted movement or energy), it was the instinctual Banzen Gami that showed his fullest potential.

Yahiko was more of a natural with the Perfect God than the Karmic God. It was the opposite for the more thoughtful Yutaro (who now went by the name and identity of Natsuki Shinkai/Xinhai).

"INSECT!" sneered Houji, his wide eyes glowing red, his voice booming like thunder as he produced what seemed like an endless stream of shikigami. Only for Myojin to seemingly cut and disintegrate them with a couple of reflexive waves of his sakabatou.

He wasn't even looking at the reapers as every reflexive slice of his blunt sword blew them apart and sent them to oblivion, his gaze aimed solely at Sadojima

The miasma of black jaki turned into white and blue shining reiki as Myojin neutralized it and Kaoru converted it into pure reiki. Once he reached Houji, their respective weapons clashed, the entire area split between the morning light colors from behind Yahiko and the pitch-black darkness from behind Sadojima.

It was like the clash of day and night, with the point of impact serving as their dusk or dawn. Twilight or daybreak.

To Houji's alarm, his scythe then started to crack and break. 'What the HELL is with this stupid brat!? I thought our only real threats are the Youkiri Battousai and Urameshi Yusuke! Chojin-sama, HELP!'

***

Instead of going down from the barrage of Rei-Gan shots, Toguro merely said, "Stop wasting energy," as though Yusuke left the light or electric fan turned on or something.

To Yusuke's surprise (or perhaps disappointment), the B-Class Toguro reacted to the Spirit Gun bombardment the exact same way as he did during the Ankoku Bujutsukai (Dark Martial Arts Tournament): By attempting to charge at the growing spirit energy bullets to stop them with his bare hands and feet as well as his purely anabolic, hugely muscular body.

And just like that, it was over. With Toguro face down on the ground, his body shattered and torn from its exploded musculature. A tall, lean husk of its former self.

Another one bit the dust. Like the rest of Yusuke's revived enemies that came back stronger because of the Chojin but not quite strong enough to take him on.

To Yusuke's mild surprise, Toguro was still "alive".  Or this revived zombie version of himself made by the Chojin's own personal Dr. Frankenstein was still moving.

The muscleman mercenary then said, "I'm merely at B-Level and I was able to push you this far? Your fighting senses have dulled, Urameshi Yusuke."

"Oh really? Well, I've discovered that at this point, no one could beat me but myself. You're welcome to prove me wrong, though," said Yusuke.

Again, Urameshi pulled something right out of Toguro's playbook. They both looked down on people who weren't on their level.

Toguro looked up at the night sky, which rekindled his memories. The Shichousei (Death Omen Star, also known as the Lifespan Star, Jumyoboshi, Alcor, or 80 Ursae Majoris) wasn't present near the Big Dipper.

"I can't see the Shichousei in the heavens."

"W-What are you talking about, Toguro? Have you gone cuckoo?"

Legend had it that when two warriors fought to the death under the Star of Death and it shone upon one of them, that person would die.

Was the star missing because he was already dead? Or because this wasn't much of a death match?

Fine. He'd turn this match into a death match then.

On the other hand, other Japanese myths and legends alleged that when a person couldn't see the Lifespan Star, he'd pass away within a year. That was appropriate since Toguro himself was not alive anymore.

Thusly, every broken bone from his body reset and healed, but instead of going back to normal, they formed sharp calcified bone spurs that protruded right out of his craggy, callused body like horns or thorns.

"...I knew it! You still had another form after 100%, you son of a bitch! CHOU REI-GAN! (MEGA SPIRIT GUN!)"

As Toguro got a power boost from the way his body decided to recover from his injuries, he punched back the Chou Rei-Gan Yusuke fired at his changing form before punching the teenager as well with his bone spur claws on his fist right at the moment of impact, quadrupling its effect.

He just jumped from Class-B to Class-A in a mere second.

"Ooof!" The world-stopping punch emptied the air from Yusuke's lungs.

"My former 100% has actually become less than a percentage point of my power, but for the sake of giving you a point of reference, I'll base my power increases on what was 100% of my power."

He grew about as big as his 100% of 100% form, perhaps even a little bigger, but this time around the demonized behemoth's black hair turned as grey as steel along with the rest of his vascular body that was covered with huge bony protrusions.

"So you can call this form of mine as me at 500% of my power."

"Whatever! HYAKU RETSU-KEN! (HUNDRED RENDING FISTS!)"

Appropriately enough, the attack Yusuke then used in response to Toguro's transformation was one he saw on television from his favorite anime show as a child of the 1980s, "Hokuto no Ken (Fist of the North Star)".

The Shichousei or Death Omen Star was, after all, also referenced by the same program.

Honestly, it was just Urameshi going ham on an opponent by randomly striking his heavy-handed punches at every opening available to him, with him naming the "technique" after the fact.

***

The devastation of the Okushiri Military base extended outward, with the pairs of Kazuma and Yumi as well as Sanosuke and Itsuki traveling eastward in a trail of devastation that followed Yahiko's own blaze of glory.

The green comet that was the Tokyo Samurai Descendant clashed and burned through the spherical cloud of miasma protecting Sadojima, like a shooting star entering the atmosphere.

The two pairs of enemies fought tooth and nail for proper positioning. The Reikai Senshi pushed the Chojin's forces back to protect Myojin from their interference.

Sanosuke punched through everything Itsuki threw at him from his hyperdimensional portals and busted portal gun. Sano also dodged the dense scattershot black holes and threw pavement debris at the Gatekeeper for good measure.  

Meanwhile, Kazuma fought from afar using his blade that can literally cut through anything and anywhere in order to slash apart every attempt of the wind vampire Yumi to blast tornadoes and energy-absorbing jaki at him.

Finally, Myojin himself struck the Chojin's (and at this point, it was the Chojin controlling the Onmyouji) scythe hard, the blade covered in miasma and dark energy.

The tides of battle then turned.

Using the jaki Kaoru purified into reiki, Yahiko's green aura became denser and denser, creating a white shining void at the center of his body that sucked the darkness of the Chojin away. Acting like a reverse black hole or even white hole that absorbed all of the Overfiend's darkness into his pure light.

'This is it, Botan,' thought Kaoru "telepathically". 'This is the power of Mu (Void). The power of emptiness.'

'Emptiness...?' repeated the ferry-girl.

'Yes. A true martial artist is able to fight with instinct, freeing his mind of all thought and distractions, leading to a Zen State. Yahiko manifested this Zen State into his unique skill: Neutralizing spiritual energy.'

A second later, all energy from everyone dissipated, and from there Houji's scythe shattered like glass as both he and Yahiko plummeted into the docks of the Okushiri Pier.  

The samurai spirit fell into Ryu Tsui Sen (Dragon Hammer Flash) stance and slammed Sadojima into one of the metal crates of the pier below them with an emphatic crash.  

"You stupid kid! I'll show you! ETERNAL...! Wait, what?! My powers are gone!"

Yumi Komagata attempted to do the Hi-Ougi (Hidden Art) of Vampire Martial Arts—a move stronger than the energy-sapping Blood Wind—but nothing of the sort manifested before her. Her aura, the energy she gathered from sucking many a soldier's blood, had disappeared.

The same happened to Itsuki, who couldn't summon his Reverse-Man or escape into his pocket dimension any longer.

Yahiko's reiki had also went out, which normally was dangerous for a ghost but he somehow reached homeostasis with the way he cancelled out the Chojin's jaki.

His dense green aura had now completely neutralized the powers of everyone near him instead of merely mitigating their flow, including the now unconscious Onmyouji.

Like how no light could escape the event horizon of a black hole, not one shadow of the Chojin's dark energy could exist amidst the blinding green light of Yahiko's converging spiritual aura.

However, as a consequence, even Yahiko's allies lost their powers as well, as though he was acting as the reverse version of the Onmyouji. Instead of boosting the powers of those in his vicinity, he nullified them.

Regardless, Sanosuke and Kuwabara immediately took advantage of the loss of powers from Itsuki and Yumi with their physical strength, with the former beating Itsuki to a pulp and Kuwabara breaking the umbrella and fan of Komagata bareheaded before tackling and pinning her down.

"Give it up, lady. You lost," said Kuwabara. "You can't cheat your way out of this one by resurrecting your goons every time we defeat them. Your precious Onmyouji's down for the count."

Yahiko "heaved" a sigh of relief despite being a solidified ghost who didn't need to breathe. "It's finally over."

Botan giggled in glee. "We did it! You did it! The number one pupil of Kamiya Kasshin! I'm so proud of you, Yahiko!" The last few parts of that statement was Kaoru talking.  

Sano looked at his own bloody fists and winced. 'We've won, but why do I feel like it's not yet over? Like there's still something afoot.'

Even though the blood from his right fist wasn't his own but Itsuki's, it burned and ached something fierce. Like he broke his hand or something. 'What's going on? I have a bad feeling about this.'

Sanosuke's bad feeling then turned into reality.

***

At Class-A, Yusuke Urameshi's Hyaku Retsu-Ken would've turned the B-Plus Toguro into mince meat. Or roadkill.

At Class-S, his Hyaku Retsu-Ken would've turned mountains like Mt. Kannon, Mt. Kamui, and even Mt. Fuji into molehills, plains, or even outright trenches and canyons as deep as the United States of America's Grand Canyon.

Like he was a pint-sized Paul Bunyan.

The teenager harrumphed. "Really? 500%? Like I'm fighting 5 Toguros at the same time? So what? That's still nothing compared to the demons I've faced since defeating you, Toguro...!"

The bone-breaking punches cracked the shell of Toguro's chitinous muscle armor bit by bit. However, in turn, Toguro let his fists fly as well but in a more methodical manner.

Targeting his punches at Yusuke's openings rather than punching randomly. Using his martial arts experience to take down the stronger foe.  

His bony yet muscular fists pounded on Yusuke's smaller body, cracking bones here and there.

Yusuke's fists ached from every punch he did on the rock-solid body of Toguro, the multitude of Spirit Cuffs holding his power back also getting pushed to their limit. The restraining cuffs and seals he placed upon himself were at their near breaking point from him merely flexing his immense power.

Thank goodness the likes of Yomi, Mukuro, Enki, and the rest of Raizen's friends (as well as Raizen himself when he was alive) put him in his place early on regarding what real power looked like, or else he'd be full of himself right about now.

The Toguro with chitinous bone spurs and keratinous horns all over his muscle-bound body ended up breaking each and every one of his thick, calcified bones from the impact of Yusuke's attacks.

Toguro's bones rattled as micro-tears appeared all over his muscles and tendons. Despite this, he pushed forward. Like his older brother, he healed quickly, which alerted Urameshi that he still had something in his sleeve.

"All right. Then how about this? TAKO NAGURI!"

The Octopus Assault—Yusuke's version of the Kuzu Ryu Sen (Nine-Dragon Flash) that hit 8 times instead of 9 times in an instant—hammered the horned gray body of the zombified and demonized Toguro before he could get the chance to stab, gore, or spear Yusuke with his many protruding bone spurs.

Urameshi once heard that it took either 23,034 slaps to cook a chicken. Either that, or a slap traveling at 1,665.65 meters per second.

He wasn't sure about the math, but he cooked Toguro's goose at a rate of 8-16 punches a second with every punch traveling at 1,000-2,000 meters per second, so it would've took about 20 minutes of non-stop Tako Naguri to get to around 20,000 punches or 2,500 super-powered Tako Naguri.

Or he would've cooked/burned 20,000 whole chickens with his speedy punches at around the same time it took to cook a chicken in the oven.

However, it was at the second minute that Urameshi broke his hand. He hit a hard shell reminiscent of Usui's shield.

From the pile of minced meat, torn muscle cords, and viscera emerged yet another Toguro form.

What stood before him wasn't the spurred behemoth Toguro but instead a fully armored Toguro, with every inch of his body covered in craggy white bone.

As though his shattered bones healed wrong and ended up calcifying right on top of his pulsating muscles. He broke the calcified armor in sections by flexing his limbs in order to give his new outer shell moving joints.

It also made him look like a white lobster man, thought Yusuke in chagrin.

"This is 1,000% of my power. 100 times the power of my 100% self."

***

At the Okushiri Pier, around 9:47 PM...

The mangled remains of a man landed right in front of Reikai's finest from out of the shadows of the dark harbor.

The Reikai Senshi (and their accompanying shinigami) then felt goose bumps form at the napes of their necks—even the ghostly ones that didn't even have tangible skin, blood, or hair to make such a sensation possible.

Even Itsuki, whom Sano beat from pillar to post with bare-knuckle fisticuffs, looked none the worse for wear compared to the person before them.

He was bathed in blood and his torn clothes were dyed crimson because of it. He looked like he'd been ravaged by a pack of wolves.

The only thing recognizable about him was that he was male.  Probably.

Sanosuke was the first one to try and poke at the figure to see who it was. If he had a ten-foot pole, he'd prod the man with it. As it was, thanks to Yahiko manifesting his full neutralization powers, Sano couldn't even summon one zanbatou right now.

The street fighter then stumbled back, which made Kazuma ask, "What's wrong? Who is it? Is that one of the Chojin's Shin Ju or whatever?"

Botan gulped, hoping against hope that the man before them was the injured body of one of the New Ten Swords instead of one of the Spirit World Warriors.

Before Sano could answer, someone else answered for him.

"That's what remains of Hajime Saito. The former captain of the Shinsengumi's Third Unit."

"...What? Who said that?" demanded Yahiko.

The Reikai Tantei, the shinigami, and the Kenshingumi then turned in time to see the silhouette of a pony-tailed person from the distance.

There stood a human(?) of about S-Level power with sleeked-back hair, a lengthy ponytail, and a half-undone kimono that showed off his rippling swimmer's muscles on his long build.

As realization dawned on them one by one, their mouths went agape, practically unhinged from their upper jaw.

The blood drained from Kuwabara's face while the three spiritual beings' faces (Botan/Kaoru, Sano, and Yahiko) looked more transparent than usual.

The ghosts all looked like they'd seen a ghost (ironically enough), forgetting they were ghosts themselves. Gasping for air they couldn't breathe anymore.

Even Kuwabara, who was alive, looked like he'd seen a ghost himself or even turned into one.

The man, who himself was a bloody mess with stabs wounds and cuts at every inch of his body, held something in his arms.

It was his trophy. His prize after a hard day's battle.

It was the head of his enemy. It was the head of Hajime Saito.

Botan screamed. Or rather, Kaoru did.

The Kamiya Kasshin Master couldn't believe that Kenshin's greatest rival who was so famous he became a Japanese historical figure later on had been defeated.

On the other hand, Botan—through centuries of being a death goddess—had seen worse things before, so she was desensitized enough to not scream. Her own feeling of dread was around the same level as Kaoru's, though.

The pony-tailed assassin then took one look at the Kenshingumi sans Kenshin, the Reikai Tantei sidekick, and their shinigami babysitter then sighed.

"Oh, no one but weaklings left? Pathetic. Imagine, after such a delicious meal, I'm left with leftovers and expired food."

The new arrival then placed Saito's head beside the rest of his body. Almost reverently. "Rest in peace, Saito Hajime. You were truly a worthy rival. I acknowledge you."

"You killed Officer Fujita! You BASTARD!" screamed Kuwabara, a knife-sized Rei-Ken ablaze with reiki and righteous indignation in his grip.

Kazuma would've produced a full-length Jigen Tou with the rage he felt, but Yahiko's neutralizing presence kept his powers in check.

"Wait. Boke (Fool), he's...!" Sano trailed off, moving in front of Kuwabara to block him from doing anything hasty. 'If anyone's going to do something hasty, it was going to be me!' thought Sagara.

"Who are you?" said Yahiko as he pointed his sakabatou at the stranger.

"I'm Youkiri Tenro (Tenro the Demon-Slayer). Remember that name before I send you back to Heaven."

***

Yusuke quickly checked his Spirit Detector. Toguro was now at A-Level with his Bone Armor form. Around the same power level as the most powerful members of the Reikai Tokubetsu Bouetai (Spirit World Special Forces).

This turn of events definitely piqued his interest. Somewhat. Maybe this time, he'd get the battle he so craved from this new version of Toguro since being defeated by Yomi in the Makai Tournament.

However, the extra layer of bone armor made it harder for Yusuke to break apart Toguro's muscle armor with mere punches, no matter what velocity he reached.

As though Toguro now had double the armor.

Also, in turn, the Class-A Toguro Ototo pummeled and stabbed Yusuke with earth-shattering strikes from his bony fists, horns, and claws as well as shattered pieces of his bone armor that kept calcifying and regrowing over and over. Layer by layer. Like samurai armor or shingles on the roof.

Stubbornly, the bloody and bruised Yusuke kept on punching the armored demon to push him away and give himself breathing room.

The bony yet muscle-bound contradiction of a monster that looked ridiculously gigantic yet unencumbered by his musculature having an extra layer of armor on top of it, turning him into a veritable tank with the speed of a Mack truck. He even hit like a truck.

However, as his wounds healed in Toguro Ani fashion, Urameshi realized that he had long ago surpassed the version of him that could get killed by being hit by a car. Or a truck. Or a tank. Or perhaps even a nuclear warhead. Maybe.

"Rei-Kou-Dan (Spirit Light Wave Bullet)."

One of his Spirit Cuffs broke as he put his hip into his punches and imbued his fists with actual spiritual power. They were already harder than steel because of the spirit energy contained within his body. When he emanated reiki from inside and outside himself, his punches also become explosive.

One reiki-imbued punch was all it took for him to crack the bone armor of Toguro at 1,000%. However, he wasn't done.

Perhaps he might have gone overboard, but he decided to punch Toguro 20,000 times in 3 minutes rather than 20 minutes. But it sure felt like 20 minutes.

Furthermore, these weren't just physical punches. His fists were set on fire with spiritual energy this time around. He shot out 20,000 Rei-Kou-Dan blasts, to be more precise.

Every supersonic punch had the impact of a blockbuster bomb, with it breaking the sound barrier and sending extra shockwaves to Toguro and all. Perhaps he'd become even more explosive than multiple blockbusters.

Perhaps Yusuke had turned into a teenaged nuke or warhead himself.

However, out of the mangled mess of bone armor emerged yet another Toguro. The armor that should've served as his coffin ended up becoming his cocoon for his newest metamorphosis. Which, to Yusuke's surprise, made him breathe a sigh in relief.

Yes! He could still push himself even further!

Was this excited feeling the same one that Toguro felt when, just a few years prior, Yusuke was able to withstand the might of 80% of his power when he killed Genkai in cold blood?

Regardless, a bronze-skinned, taller, and four-armed Toguro emerged from all that mush and burnt flesh he'd become earlier, impossibly towering even higher over Yusuke than before. His current ginormous form made his former seven-foot form look normal-sized in comparison.

His muscles were like taut steel cords now, like those used in heavy-duty tires and conveyer belts. Perhaps even harder. They were definitely harder than the pieces of thick calcified bone armor that they crushed like egg shells with a simple collective body flex.

"This is 100,000% of my power. This is what fighting 1,000 clones of my 100% self looks like."

Yusuke thought for a second what Toguro meant by that, only for him to test the theory out with an additional 20,000 Rei-Kou-Dan blasts in a minute. 20,000 palm blocks later and Urameshi now had a better idea of what his nemesis meant, followed by 20,000 counterpunches in between those blocks.

All in a minute's time.

'100,000% Toguro? He didn't even bother going to 10,000%? Jeez!' Urameshi thought as he got hit with a two-armed lariat that dragged his body across the landscape and river like a trailer home in a tornado.

This was it. This was the A-Plus version of Toguro.

Yusuke couldn't even hide the grin from his face even as this newest form of Toguro beat him to the punch every time.

Toguro at 100,000% had even tighter and tauter musculature with enough strength and torque behind them to break bones to dust. His ripcord muscles could handle punching velocities similar to that of or even faster than Yusuke's.

It also didn't help that Toguro now had a body that could accommodate four arms, thus giving him twice the hand speed and arm speed due to his literal extra limbs.

***

"...SHISHIO!" screamed Sanosuke at Tenro, his blood (ectoplasm) boiling. His right fist, which Makoto Shishio broke, pulsating like a second heart.

Even though Tenro wasn't wearing bandages and his skin wasn't burned to a crisp, Sano could recognize that voice and that demeanor anywhere.

'Shishio?' thought Kuwabara. So Tenro was the man who founded the original Juppon Gatana? Kenshin's greatest rival? The man who ultimately caused Kenshin's demise? The man who might actually be the alter ego of the Chojin himself?

The guy who not only pushed Hiei to his limits, but also possibly two of the Demon World's three kings, Yomi and Mukuro? Was Tenro Shishio's reincarnation or something...?

Before they knew it, they were suddenly faced with the final boss of the game.

The fighting spirit of Sanosuke rose high enough for him to defy the nullifying presence of Yahiko and form half of a zanbatou in his hands, which he swung at the (presumably) non-burned version or reincarnation of the ex-hitokiri and Meiji rebel known as Makoto Shishio.

With one swing of Tenro's Mugen Jin (Unlimited Blade) sword, Sagara's suspicions were confirmed.

"Secret Sword One: HOMURA DAMA!"

Shishio's signature Homura Dama (Burning Soul) technique where his sword burst into flame clashed hard against the 6-foot (normally 12-foot) horse-chopping sword, smelting it in the process like a blacksmith's forge in a shower of sparks.

"A weakling like usual, Sagara Sanosuke," sneered Tenro. "It's been a while, though."

"I don't understand. Wasn't Shishio supposed to look like a mummy or something? He's some guy who was burnt to a crisp and covered in bandages, right?" said Kazuma.

Sano answered, "Yeah, but obviously it's been 100 years. He must've found a way to get a new body, or ended up with a solidified soul, or got reincarnated as this Tenro clown."

Myojin gulped. He considered deactivating his powers to allow either Kuwabara or Sanosuke to attack the youkiri. However, if Tenro was this powerful with his spiritual power nullified, how much more powerful could he get when Yahiko's powers ceased working?

The disheveled Yumi then cackled in the background, the hole in her chest throbbing with a ghostly heart that the man before her had "stolen" from her.

"It's about time you got here, Tenro. What took you so long? Don't tell me the Miburo (Mibu's Wolf) gave you all that you can handle and then some."

Tenro harrumphed. "Perish the thought, Yumi. I merely gave my respects first to the Shinsengumi in the Battle of Hakodate Monument, and guess who I also found there? That's right, our favorite Shinsengumi Captain, Saito Hajime."

'Hakodate?!' thought Yahiko. 'That's four hours away from Okushiri! All the way on the other side of Hokkaido, at that!'

Sanosuke himself snarled at Tenro, his fist burning with pain and fire, as though it remembered how Makoto had shattered it when they'd faced each other back at Mt. Hiei.

'Hakodate is the place that served as the Shinsengumi's last stand. Did Saito go there to pay his respects to his squad? In the middle of our war against the Shin Ju? It's not like him to be so sentimental.'

The street fighter spared a glance at the remains of Hajime Saito. Unbelievable. Just earlier, he pushed several of the Shin Juppon Gatana to their limits, but now he ended up as dead as the rest of the original Shinsengumi.

Well, Saito himself was supposed to already be dead and buried in the first place, but this time around he got killed off for real by Shishio. Or Tenro, which was probably the reincarnation of Shishio.

Kuwabara turned towards Yahiko and said, "Kid, turn off your powers! I'm going to face off with the final boss one-on-one at my full strength!"

"But...!" the ghost kid trailed off before Botan filled in the rest.

"Kuwabara-kun, he can't. He's the only one sealing Tenro's immense power. If he was able to do that to Saito, imagine what he could do to us! Let Yahiko seal his power for now until either Kenshin or Yusuke arrives!" warned the ferry-girl.

"I DON'T CARE!" shouted Kazuma. "Let us face him at his full strength while we're also at full strength! As a real man, I won't back down!"

Tenro smirked. "Fine then. If you're not bluffing then come at me. In this world and beyond it, the same rules of nature apply. Only the strongest survive and the weak are food for the strong."

Sano's eyes narrowed. That convinced him that the man before him really was Shishio. That was totally a Shishio-type line. 'It's now or never. We just have to keep him here until either Kenshin or that delinquent best friend of Boke arrives!'

***

"REI-KOU-DAN!" shouted Urameshi, his Spirit Wave Light Bullets bursting through his fist like bolts of lightning from a Railgun.

The 100,000% Toguro blocked the punch with his elbow, shattering Yusuke's hand bones in the process. "Is this the power of an S-Level? Don't make me laugh. Me at 100,000% of my power is enough for you."

Toguro then grabbed hold of Urameshi's limbs with all four of his arms in a bid to tear the teenager apart literally from limb to limb.

Yusuke considered Toguro's statement for a second and then said, "Fuck that," before flipping the four-armed monster off with his right hand.

The mere idea that someone like Feng Xinhai or The "Beautiful" Suzuki was more powerful than Toguro just didn't sit well with Urameshi. At all.

At any rate, the middle finger he raised at the 100,000% Toguro then flowed with energy he'd been saving for a special occasion.

Yusuke discovered that he could actually save and store his dormant spirit energy as a reserve or extra Spirit Gun blast for use in case of emergencies since it usually took forever and a day to charge his Rei-Gan.

The energy for this one he'd been gathering for weeks' on end.

Also, in order for him to not mistakenly fire off his reserve Rei-Gan, he had this special energy bullet stored in his middle finger. This was how the new technique that he improvised when facing off against the S-Level Xinhai ultimately evolved.

This was his "Fuck You!" Spirit Gun. Also known as the "FAKKU GAN! (FUCK GUN!)"

The 100,000% Toguro chucked Yusuke away like a hot potato in order to better dodge the point-blank spiritual projectile then punted the Fuck Gun back to the teenager who fired it.

However, by instinct borne from his hundreds of fights against spiritually powerful humans and demons, Yusuke jumped away from the Fakku Gan, grabbed Toguro by the ankle, dragged him towards the ball of plasma fire he actually outran, and then threw the monster back into its path.

From there, as the 100,000% Toguro braced himself for impact, Urameshi emerged from behind him. Attacking him from the rear for good measure.

Toguro was now stuck between a rock and a hard place. Or between a demon and his energy blast.

"REI-KOU-DAN! SHOT GUN!" screamed the half-demon prince.

While the Fakku Gan blasted and disintegrated the giant from the front, Yusuke attacked with his Spirit Light Wave Bullets and reiki scattershot from behind, which kept even the four-armed monstrosity from defending himself from the upcoming onslaught surrounding him.

The charged-up blasts of energy in particle and wave forms bore on Toguro like plasma tides or a solar wind. An endless series of reiki tidal waves from the vast ocean of Urameshi's power.

Thanks to the extra pressure brought about by his stored energy blast from many weeks ago, Yusuke's Rei-Kou-Dan was able to penetrate deep into Toguro's core. The technique ripped apart the steel cord muscles of Toguro as they got softened by the comet of energy that cooked him alive.  

Then, as Yusuke had hoped deep in his unbeating heart, the mangled Toguro changed form yet again.

The same heart that stopped beating after Shinobu Sensui first pierced it felt like it had started beating again in anticipation. In excitement. In nostalgia, even.

Toguro still had more forms and powers up his sleeve. Just like old times.

And from there, out of the ashes and melted muscle of the 100,000% Toguro came forth the One Million Percent Toguro.

"One Million Percent. This is me at One Million Percent of my power, Urameshi Yusuke."

***

Kuwabara and Sanosuke attacked Tenro at the same time while Yahiko struggled on the spot to focus all his neutralizing powers on the Shishio reincarnation(?) alone.

Botan checked her Spirit Detector again. Hope sprouted anew within her heart. 'Yes! Tenro's power level went down to A-Level. He's still on the cusp of S-Level, but at least he's not as powerful as someone like Sensui or Xinhai! We have a chance!'

Tenro frowned. His aura of jaki had become fainter and weaker due to Myojin's powers.

'Hmmm. The Shin Ju had warned me about this impudent brat. Even Toguro Ani couldn't heal properly thanks to this kid's neutralizing reiki.'

As Yahiko slowly mastered his neutralization powers so that only Tenro was affected by them, the energy levels of Kuwabara and Sanosuke went up higher and higher than before, their auras flaring with spiritual might that was boosted by Botan's healing powers for good measure.

"JIGEN TOU!" screamed Kazuma, summoning his Dimension Sword.

"ZANBATOU!" shouted Sanosuke, producing his 12-foot long Horse-Chopping Sword.

"How appropriate. Isn't this just a reflection of today's society? The weak are using their great numbers to suppress their betters, not realizing that without the strong to lead them or the will to become strong themselves, they will end up extinct. The world stands on the shoulders of giants."

"SHADDAP! I don't know who you are, but all's fair in love and war," declared Kuwabara.

"Not all men are created equal. Like in the Animal Kingdom, some men are simply better than others. Equal opportunity doesn't guarantee equal results. Forcing equal results in an aberration of nature, like forcing animals to act like men, the pinnacle of evolution."

Tenro used a bare hand to grab hold of Kuwabara's Dimension Sword and used his other hand holding the saw-like Mugen Jin to block the full-length zanbatou.

"Ganging up on the strong can lead to the survival of the weak temporarily. However, their own respective weaknesses will sort them out. Their celebration of mediocrity will make them food for other apex predators in the future or have them subjugated by any of their own who decide to become rams instead of sheep."

The Youkiri then broke the Jigen Tou apart like it was made of cardboard instead of pure energy and stabbed Sanosuke's chest with it while also melting the zanbatou with his Mugen Jin's Homura Dama.

"Regardless, it is better to live one day as a lion than one hundred years as a sheep. These are... THE RULES OF NATURE!"

"AUGH!" grunted Sanosuke, his recently recovered soul flickering in and out of existence, his chest spewing ectoplasm, and his aura dissipating into pinpoints of light like a disturbed nest of bioluminescent fireflies.

He felt the light inside him slowly fade all the while.

"Bastard...!" said Kazuma, who repurposed the broken shards of his Jigen Tou and shot it pointblank at Youkiri Tenro's face, turning them into "REI-SHURIKEN!"

He should've hit him with the projectiles from a distance, though. The first few blades bounced off of the intense aura of jaki that covered Tenro's body like armor, which reminded Kuwabara of the aura that Detective Matsudaira developed.

Reiatsu (Spirit pressure).

Tenro's aura was dense enough to become spirit pressure reminiscent of Bui from the Toguro Team. Or Yusuke whenever he unleashed his full power.

So this was the Chojin's secret weapon? If not the Chojin himself altogether?

The demon-slayer then grabbed the teenager's wrist and redirected the shuriken at Sano again, injuring him further. From there, he broke Kuwabara's hand altogether then grabbed him by the collar, declaring, "Secret Sword Two: GUREN KAINA! (CRIMSON LOTUS ARM!)"

Using his Mugen Jin to ignite the gunpowder-laced glove, the youkiri blasted Kuwabara with the force of a bomb.

The gunpowder-inside-the-glove trick that Shishio used on Kenshin was also used against Kazuma, with the explosion violently blowing him away. A hundred years ago, Makoto's hand was kept safe from the blast using a special metal gauntlet underneath the glove full of gunpowder that resisted the impact.

Tenro somehow ended up doing an even stronger version of the Guren Kaina that was imbued with the chaotic negative energy of the Chojin, which made the explosion strong enough to injure a human with the A-Class power level of Kuwabara.

Yahiko's power-suppressing aura didn't help in this case.

Tenro then shot the samurai ghost teen a look that chilled him to his "bones" or "spine". The youkiri then declared, "You will not drag me down to your level. Know your place, child."

However, while Tenro was distracted, the flickering spirit of Sanosuke stabbed the youkiri with hot molten metal of what was left of his sword in a spectacular display of sparks.

This was Sano's one chance of making a dent, so he had to make it count. However, as he attempted to punch Tenro's heart out, his hand ended up crushed with the youkiri's elbow block.

With a harrumph, Tenro proceeded to punch Sanosuke on the forehead, just like when Sano fought Shishio. "You never learn."

"I don't understand," murmured the Kaoru inside Botan's body. "Isn't Yahiko's aura supposed to suppress Tenro's powers too? Why is he still so strong!?"

She then noticed the unconscious Itsuki open his eyes and wake up, which led her to keep her guard up.

The black-and-blue Itsuki chuckled, tracing his finger over the scar Kuwabara had made on his face back when the Reikai Tantei faced off against Shinobu Sensui. "Y-You don't understand. This is him with his power held back."

"W-What do you mean? That's impossible!" Botan checked her Spirit Detector. "Oh no. His power is fluctuating between A-Level and S-Level when earlier it was just A-Level. That can't be! How powerful is he?"

Sneering, Itsuki said, "Who knows? Rumor has it he's about as powerful as one of the Former Three Kings—Mukuro, Yomi, and even the Late Raizen. He might even reach the mythical X-Level like Kurama did when he took hold of the Demon Sword."

Botan's face went pale blue as though unseen hands suddenly grabbed hold of her thin neck. "X-Level?!"

She remembered the event like it was yesterday.

The Spirit World went on high alert when Kurama went Class-X after wielding the Youtou Shinnoken (Demon Sword). They even called the entire Reikai Bouetai in. Not that it would've done them any good, since the Special Forces were composed of Class-A agents and Class-X was a level beyond Class-S.

She couldn't even fathom how strong an X-Level was since Kurama immediately rejected the Demon Sword, which transformed him back into his "human" self.

However, stronger than Yomi, Mukuro, or Raizen gave her a ballpark estimate of what they were dealing with. Someone as strong as or stronger than a Raizen-possessed Yusuke who ragdolled the mountain-destroying Sensui with ease.

All the same, Tenro stood victorious over the beaten figures of Sanosuke and Kuwabara.

"Will you become rams or sheep? Lions or feral street cats? Wolves or mongrel dogs? Can you evolve and turn into apex predators yourselves? It's natural selection. Kill or be killed. Make your choice."

***

The peaceful Tsurikake River had now become a war zone. A swamp in one part and a desert in another.

It was Baghdad. It was bedlam.

The 1,000,000% Toguro was there at the epicenter of the devastation. A nuke all his own. An unnatural force of nature.

An over-muscled demonized human even taller than his 100,000% version. A walking contradiction of chaos and order.

He had no skin now. He was all pure, red muscle and tendons pulsating and wriggling in every which way.

He also had six arms instead of two or four, with him towering even higher than before because he had to elongate his torso to cartoonish levels just to accommodate his extra pair of limbs.

Curious at how strong this Toguro was, Yusuke flipped the bird on Toguro with his other hand.

Yes, he had also stored another Fuck Gun on his other hand, with about the same amount of potential spiritual energy gathered for multiple weeks since he fired his first Fakku Gan at Feng Xinhai.

"FAKKU GAN!"

Again, Urameshi blasted all of his pent-up "Fuck You!" energy at Toguro by flipping him off, shooting the bolt of concentrated lightning that came out with the force of a shooting star.

Again, he outran the modified reserve Rei-Gan and came up from behind the six-armed insectoid Toguro with the intent of making sure he got hit by it.

He then attacked Toguro with both hands using the Rei-Gan and Shot Gun.

"DOUBLE-BARRELED SHOT GUN! DOUBLE BERRETTA REI-GAN!"

Those extra pair of hands on an even bigger and sturdier body made all the difference.

Two of six arms grabbed and held back the charged-for-weeks Rei-Gan. Another two of the arms parried and blocked all of Yusuke's energy-laden punches as well as the projectiles blasting through them.

This freed up the Million-Percent Toguro's two remaining hands that grabbed hold of Yusuke and pummeled him into submission.

The Younger Toguro utilized punches that carved the landscape. Made and destroyed mountains.

The kind of unnatural force of nature (as contradictory as it sounded) that could affect plate tectonics, weather patterns, or change the area forever, like in the case of Mt. St. Helens when it exploded or the nine ghost villages of France that remained wastelands to this day thanks to the Battle of Verdun in the First World War.  

If Yusuke's reiki-dense body weren't there to absorb the blows they would've shattered and sunk Okushiri right off of the map.

Even though Urameshi was breathing through his mouth, had lost several teeth, and ended up with a shattered jaw he couldn't close, he couldn't help but grin. Or at least do an open-mouthed smile.

"I'm beating you to the punch at every turn. So why is it...?" Toguro tilted his head to the side in askance. "Why do you have such a happy look on your face?"

Disturbingly, Yusuke's teeth grew back. They weren't supposed to do that but they did. Even accelerated human healing wouldn't allow the return of lost permanent teeth. All his bruises healed. All his broken bones mended themselves. His shut black eye's swelling subsided and went back to normal.

There he hung from Toguro's grip. Smiling. None the worse for wear save for torn clothes that couldn't restore themselves to their previous state.

"Come on, Toguro. You can do better than this, you son of a bitch! Gimme your best shot!"

Toguro then proceeded to smash Yusuke and his own heavenly body of a Fakku Gan together, which resulted in a mushroom cloud of pure destructive power.

Another atomic blast had hit Japan.

Toguro the Younger turned Urameshi into the atomic bomb he was afraid he had become.

***

Back at the Okushiri Pier, two things happened.

Botan, using the wealth of leftover negative energy that Kaoru purified earlier, again started healing the damage inflicted upon the available Reikai Senshi.

Kuwabara and Sanosuke stirred, as if shot by multiple doses of adrenalin.

Also, when the youkiri decided to deal with the shinigami herself to keep her from aiding her comrades, Yahiko himself confronted and attacked Tenro head on.

For all the good it did. Bless his ghostly heart.

"DOU GAMI...! (GOD ON EARTH!)" shouted Yahiko, hoping against hope it'd land on Tenro's head or sword or at least near him so that he'd get pelted by rocks and debris.

'So this is Shishio. The leader of the Juppon Gatana. Kenshin's most powerful rival,' the samurai spirit thought.

Tenro caught the reverse-edged blade between his fingers before it could make contact with him or the Mugen Jin. The God Hammer relied on recoil to give Yahiko enough space to consecutively strike something or someone three times fast in order to break their resistance and apply a zero-resistance strike.

No recoil meant the technique was neutralized.

Myojin's jaw dropped. "How...!?"

"So you're the brat who can neutralize spirit energy," said Tenro with narrowed eyes that traveled from Houji's unconscious form then all the way back to Yahiko.

Readjusting his grip of the sword tight with a gloved hand that smelled of gunpowder and negative spirit energy, Tenro again did the "GUREN KAINA!" on the blade.

The explosion blasted Myojin clear away from (presumably) Shishio, the shrapnel from his own spiritual construct of a sakabatou hitting him at the speed of bullets. His spirit fading and dissipating with pinpoints of energy.

''YAHIKO!" both Botan and Kaoru chorused in one unified body, fearing the worst.

However, the shards of Yahiko's shattered blade also penetrated Tenro's body, sealing his power further away from S-Level.

'What a problematic child this is.'

Myojin got up to his feet and charged with his broken reverse-edged blade, hoping to buy Sano and Kuwabara time. Buy Kenshin and Yusuke time as well.

He intended to do the Inga Gami on Tenro's head, only to revert to the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu ougi for Hadome and Hawatari when his opponent beat him to the punch and struck first with the Homura Dama.

However, as he defended against the downwards flaming strike with a crossed-wrist block, Tenro grappled with him and kept him from parrying the strike. "Do you want to know how your idol, Himura Battousai, died a century ago? Like this. Guren Kaina. Homura Dama."

After the explosion from the gunpowder happened, Tenro allowed the resulting fire to flare and roast the hapless ghost of Yahiko Myojin.

"AAAHH...!" screamed the burning Yahiko.

"YAHIKO!" shouted Sanosuke.

"BRAT!" yelled Kuwabara.

Tenro himself stood in the middle of the conflagration, but like in his confrontation with Hiei, he ended up none the worse for wear from the roaring bonfire.

"Too strong... He's too strong...!" gasped Yahiko. "Even after all this time, I'm still as weak as I've always been."

The bright yellow flames turned green then blue as Yahiko's form reverted to that of a hitodama (will-o'-the-wisp).

Meanwhile, Botan shrieked, fell on her knees, and covered her eyes with her hands.

"Who is stronger? A wolf in sheep's clothing or a sheep in wolf's clothing? Don't deny your true nature. Embrace what you really are. It's either you know your place or claw your way up the food chain. Evolve. Transform. Step up or step aside."

The entirety of Okushiri then started to rumble as Yahiko's neutralizing reiki ebbed away.

Like a dam that was about to break.

***

A nuke did damage in three stages.

It irradiated heat and light, it blasted everything to Kingdom Come, and it scattered radioactive materials around.

The bigger you went, the less relevant the radioactive materials became relative to the other effects as the heat irradiation had a much greater and more noticeable immediate effect. Effectively, when a nuke went off, the temperature of the resulting fireball could go up to millions of degrees, but it dissipated relatively quickly.

However, instead of having a repeat of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1993, Yusuke's dense aura (arguably going at reiatsu level at this point) allowed him to absorb most of the impact of his own Fakku Gan.

The explosion became a blockbuster level blast instead of an atomic bomb mushroom cloud.

Yusuke collapsed on the ground, taking the brunt of his own spirit energy.

Before him towered a behemoth of a demonized man. His exposed muscles bursting out of his skin. His six huge arms giving him an insect-like vibe.

This was Toguro using a million percent of his power. He had become the Demigod Asura, a six-armed demon of war and destruction.

However, even in the face of this absolute unit of a monster, something else from many miles away grabbed Urameshi's attention.

Over the horizon, he felt a suppressed Low S-Level power grow and pulse. Like a leaking and cracked dam ready to burst.

Once that dam finally burst forth, Yusuke broke all of his limits at once. Every last Spirit Cuff. Every last bit of hesitation he had from the Kugai curse placed upon him by Rando.

He caught even the Million-Percent Toguro by surprise at how fast his power level rose.

He summoned his version of the Sei Kou Ki, the golden aura serving as his barrier against Toguro's atomic punches.

His hair grew long and turned white for good measure before he proceeded to punch the Million-Percent Toguro a million times. A glowing golden punch for every percentage.

"SEI-KOU-DAN!" Yusuke cried, blasting Toguro with the Sei-Kou-Ki version of the Rei-Kou-Dan.

He had to. That dark presence in the distance sounded all of his internal alarms and red flags. His primitive flight-or-fight instinct activated.

As though feeling the rise in power from a distance spurred him into action more effectively than the golem before him that, quite frankly, took too long to get to S-Level and beyond.

Whichever Reikai Senshi was out there, they were fighting the final boss. The Chojin himself, even.

***

Botan rushed towards Yahiko's side, doing her best to heal his injured hitodama form. But the damage was extensive on his human soul, the light within his spirit fading away fast. "Hold on, Yahiko-kun! I got you! Everything's going to be fine!"

However, no matter how much spirit energy she used to heal Yahiko's damaged soul, it never healed. His hitodama continued to remain in its fireball state, flickering like a candle in the wind.

Kuwabara was the first to get up shakily on his feet, the Rei-Ken in his hand (also) flickering back and forth between its normal form and its Jigen Tou form.

"You talk too much, you bastard!" said the redhead, who attempted to create a portal to send the youkiri to space, only for Tenro to grab the teenager by his curly regent-style hair and put his face into the portal in an effort to suffocate him.

"What happened to Japan? Is this the best warriors that this new age can pony up? Pathetic," said Youkiri Tenro. "It's so sad. The United States of America turned the proud Empire of Japan into a whipped dog. An island full of losers and weirdoes."

Kuwabara ignited Tenro's glove with a small Rei-Ken on his free hand, which made it explode in the youkiri's face. Gasping for air, the redhead attempted another blind swing at the would-be dictator, only for him to end up stabbed in the lung.

He coughed blood as his eyes watered. His insides drowned in his own blood through internal bleeding.

"Sheep will always be sheep. Wolves will always be wolves. Lions will always be lions. A hitokiri will always be a hitokiri. A youkiri will always be youkiri. It's an aberration of nature to be one thing and claim to be another. If you want to become strong then change yourself for real. Defy or accept your fate. Become the predator or become the prey. It's up to you."

Ignoring the throbbing pain from his right fist that somehow trumped the ectoplasmic bleeding he got from the Rei-Shuriken, Sagara attempted a Futae no Kiwami and aimed it right into the chest of Shishio.

Or Tenro. Or the Chojin. Whoever he was or claimed to be.

Tenro tossed aside Kuwabara's quivering body like trash then blocked Sanosuke's punch with his own punch.

Last time, Sano broke his fist on Shishio's concrete face, his own Futae no Kiwami deflecting back to the bones of his hand. This time, his Douhle Extreme was enough to match Tenro's strength.

Only enough to match Tenro's strength though.

As Tenro again attempted to punch and crack Sanosuke's skull open, something unexpected happened.

"...SANJO NO KIWAMI!"

Sano blew Tenro's fist away with the Triple Extreme, which opened up his chest to a direct heart punch.

The coup de grace.

"FUTAE NO KIWAMI! DORYAAH...!"

Sanosuke landed the Futae no Kiwami right into Shishio's heart. Or Tenro's heart.

A second passed. The youkiri cackled.

"Congratulations. You're a little bit stronger now than before."

As the fading, transparent visage of Sanosuke let out a soundless scream, his pupils constricted into tiny dots on a white expanse, Tenro finally attacked the street fighter with his flame-producing weapon, its Homura Dama splitting Sano's head apart in a spectacular spray of ectoplasm.

"S-Sano..." choked out Kuwabara, his own vision fading along with Sanosuke's soul.

All that time, even in his will-o'-the-wisp form, the soul of Yahiko kept sealing the power of Youkiri Tenro. However, he couldn't contain the immense power of the Shishio reincarnation(?) any longer.

His soul finally succumbed, fading to black before shattering into a thousand pinpoints of light.

"Yahiko, no! No! NOOO!" cried Botan. "Dammit, come back! Oh no, what's going on? Why is everything going wrong?!"

Okushiri rumbled as the unleashed power of Tenro began to expand into a tall pillar of darkness and miasma. His jaki shot up into the sky, which gathered nimbus clouds all around them.

The localized quakes grew stronger and stronger. It felt like the world was about to split apart. This was the power of an Upper Class-S being that somehow ended up in the Human World.

He felt like power made flesh. A walking disaster area. A humanoid cyclone.

Tenro smirked as he surveyed the pier. He felt their presence. They were coming. He felt their power, anger, and desperation travel towards him like moths to his flame.

He could feel their strong presences, spirit energy, sword energy, and aura even from miles away.

One was on land, on foot, going faster than a cheetah. The other in the air, presumably ferried by one of Reikai's shinigami.

Who could they be?

First, there was the one half-demon, half-human mazoku descendant of Raizen, Makai's God of War, who was able to harness his demonic power and lineage. Raizen's true son. The Last Son of the Mazoku.

Yusuke Urameshi.

Second, there was the man who "defeated" Makoto Shishio to a suicidal kamikaze draw.  The Hitokiri Battousai who died and then became the Youkiri Battousai, the Guardian of the Demon Sword.

Kenshin Himura.

"Come forth. Show me the best and most powerful champions that this era has to offer. I'll defeat them all!" declared Tenro the Demon-Slayer to his upcoming opponents.

However, before Tenro knew it, his chest tightened. His heart stopped beating.

His negative energy wasn't able to heal the damage in time. He stood there, frozen. His time had stopped care of Sanosuke's efforts.

This happened due to the combination of the Futae no Kiwami and the shards of Yahiko's neutralizing reiki damaging his mortal heart. It kept him from manifesting the full breadth of his power that managed to take down even Hajime Saito.

The Kenshingumi's curse, if you would.

"Before challenging the champions of this era, watch out behind you. The past has a way of catching up with you, Shishio Makoto!"

Speaking of Saito, it was then and there that the headless corpse of Hajime Saito began moving on its own, with his one arm cradling his decapitated head.

As though he were the Headless Horseman. Or a Dullahan of Irish folklore.

That bastard. He was playing possum all this time!?

Tenro willed himself to move, but couldn't. He felt his left arm go numb. The shards of Yahiko's sakabatou might've reached all the way to his coronary arteries.

There was no telling how much cardiovascular damage Sanosuke's punch had done to his heart.

Dammit.

He began to sweat hard while clutching his chest. "Damn you, Saito Hajime."

"I've never seen you so sweaty and pathetic before," the head of Saito mocked before charging with his Gatotsu Ishiki from behind Tenro. "Then again, your sweat glands did get all burned up in your past life."

Instead of aiming at Tenro's head like with his encounter with Shishio, Saito instead aimed his sword right at Tenro's stopped heart while he was in the middle of a heart attack.

Appropriately enough, instead of being defeated by someone stronger than him, it was the desperate alliance of those weaker than Tenro that ultimately dragged him towards his ultimate defeat.

The ultimate irony.

"Go back to Hell, Shishio...!"

"No, I will make this world Hell and feel right at home!"

No. This was the same method Hajime used to "kill" Usui (temporarily). He took advantage of other people's hard work then opportunistically struck at the right time.

There was no way Youkiri Tenro would go down like a punk. Like Usui, of all people. An outsmarted weakling.

Tenro willed himself to move to block the strike.

His Homura Dama melted right through Saito's sword. Apparently, the Shinsengumi Captain was already using the last of his soul's strength to even make the strike, resulting in a vulnerable blade with barely any spirit energy to protect it.

Nevertheless, the rest of the hot blade plunged right into one of Tenro's lungs, spraying his blood all over the empty pier.

Saito smirked and closed his eyes. Instead of a solidified soul, Shishio really was reincarnated into an extra powerful human being. But a human being nonetheless. A mortal one that could be killed.

Tenro awaited the Gatotsu Zeroshiki that never came.

Alas, Saito already spent most of his energy fighting a full-powered X-Level Tenro earlier, with him sacrificing his very life force to just injure him now.

"I win again, Saito Hajime," hissed Tenro, coughing blood. "I survived your attack while you're already as good as dead. I can easily heal this damage and finish off the rest of the Reikai Senshi."

"That's my parting gift," said Saito, his own spirit fading. "You won't be able to reach X-Level in time now."

Before Tenro could wonder any further what Saito meant by his words, a gigaton punch shattered his face from out of the blue.

"Wha...?! GUAAAAH!!!"

Again, the wolf outfoxed him at every turn.

The youkiri realized that he'd just been punched by Raizen's "Son". The Mazoku Descendant. The hanyou (half-demon) that scared the great Enma Daio himself.

His brain sloshed inside his broken skull, leading to a concussion.

Any other impact from a weaker opponent wouldn't have even registered to Tenro. But a punch from an S-Level mazoku? That was a punch that could tear apart entire continents.

He also spotted from behind the long-haired, tattooed, and angry Mazoku Yusuke a warp portal that Kazuma Kuwabara probably made to shorten his best friend's travel time.

This was bad news.

His compromised heart and lungs hadn't recovered yet. Even though his energy levels were rising, his mortal damage kept him from manifesting his full power. He wasn't healing fast enough.

But this also excited him.

Tenro missed out on slaying Raizen—one of the greatest, oldest, and most powerful demons of the Demon World. Fighting his distant half-breed offspring was the next best thing to it.

With Yusuke's white hair and boundless energy, he himself looked to be at the cusp of achieving X-Level.

"Far more important than your power level, you've upended the natural order of things in both the Spirit World and the Demon World," said the gasping yet calm Tenro.

Yusuke picked up the pace, his nuclear-powered punches reaching speeds so impossibly, superhumanly fast that they came with their own eardrum-obliterating sonic booms.

However, the tough-as-nails Tenro absorbed every punch with his hard body and boundless jaki, so his mountain-obliterating punches "merely" made the pier shake and quake like a frightened child suffering domestic abuse.

"When Raizen died, you took over and found a way to keep the warring factions of Mukuro and Yomi from leading Makai into another millennia-long war for power."

Tenro gurgled but laughed with what sounded like a death rattle. Knocking at Hell's Gates with the sea of punches he had to wade through while punching and slashing at the elusive demon spawn in turn.

"You even helped expose the corruption within Reikai and had Koenma Daio depose his father, Enma Daio. Then you saved the Human World again from a Spirit World terrorist group. Imagine that."

The constant battery of kicks, punches, knees, elbows, and headbutts that barely gave Tenro any breathing room took their toll, making him cough and spew blood from many of his body's orifices, like his ears, eyes, nose, and mouth.

"The Chojin views you as a threat not because of your power level but instead of how you affect everyone and everything around you. You're a spanner in the works. Someone who can defy fate itself."

The threat of death made Tenro feel alive. His flight-or-fight instincts were on high alert.

After the thousands of demon hunts he'd participated in for the sake of turning his reincarnated yakuza boss self into someone worthy of housing Makoto Shishio's soul, this was the first time he actually, remotely felt threatened.

It was as he had imagined facing Yomi, Mukuro, or Raizen would've been like when they were still the Three Kings of Makai or at the peak of their power.

"We're cut from the same cloth, Urameshi Yusuke." Tenro sneered, wiping the blood from his nose. "I too exist to spite God. I defied my ultimate fate of death. From one lion to another, I will fight fate itself to write my own destiny. Just like you have."

"What the hell are you blathering on about?" said Yusuke, who kept up his endless barrage of Sei Kou Ki punches and kicks in order to pummel Tenro to submission.

Although he was winning the exchange, Toushin Yusuke's fists ended up aching and bleeding.

They might've even been broken by the dense thickness of Tenro's own reiatsu of negative energy serving as a barrier from inside and outside him, keeping his human body intact in spite of this mauling.

Regardless, the human-demon spawn had to finish Tenro off immediately.

Even though Urameshi was able to best Toguro by going all out, he could still feel his old enemy's presence. The Younger Toguro could still reemerge and possibly go beyond a million percent of his power. Perhaps a billion or a trillion even.

"Let's end this, Tenro. Or Shishio. Or Chojin. Whoever you are.  I'll finish you and your Shin Juppon Gatana off for good! SEI-GAN!"

A black-and-blue Tenro grinned as he felt a meteor-sized blast of purest Sei Kou Ki grow bigger and bigger from Yusuke's pointer finger. A miniature sun that glowed gold instead of bright blue.

This was the correct move. In order to finally penetrate through Tenro's reiatsu, Yusuke had to use his ultimate, ultimate move. A Rei-Gan powered by Sei-Kou-Ki shot by his white-haired demonic form.

However, the Chojin foresaw all this. This was why he gave (back) Tenro his original Mugen Jin.

When Yahiko still had his neutralizing reiki activated, the Mugen Jin could only be used the way it originally was made for, which was to create flames through the body fat and human oils it collected.

However, a hundred years later, the sword itself became a cursed sword with supernatural powers like the Youtou Shinnoken. It gained an extra property.

Without Yahiko's powers sealing its supernatural abilities away, it could absorb, steal, store, and release the spirit energy of others.

Thus, Tenro's Mugen Jin absorbed every last bit of the Sei-Gan from Mazoku Yusuke, only for him to do the third secret sword on him powered by Urameshi's own Sacred Light Spirit Energy.

"Secret Sword Three: KAGUZUCHI! (FIRE-BEARING SPIRIT GOD!)"

A fire tornado that mixed Tenro's demonic negative energy reiatsu with Yusuke's angelic sacred energy tossed the teenaged warhead around in a maelstrom of malcontent (since jaki was basically just energy derived from humanity's hatred and grudges).

If the mixture of volatile energy didn't kill the demonized Urameshi, then the centrifugal force of an F5 hurricane that would normally turn any normal human being into liquefied butter would.

"Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu Ougi: AMAKAKERU RYU NO HIRAMEKI! (HEAVENS GLIDING DRAGON FLASH!)"

The void created by the ultimate attack of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu destroyed the red, black, and gold wind funnel that had threatened to rage against Okushiri like a seasonal typhoon.

As a battered Yusuke fell from the sky, an erstwhile Kenshin jumped and caught him in midair before he could've crashed into one of the many cargo containers, if not outright fall into the hard concrete below.

They landed safely on ground zero of Yusuke's fight with Tenro, which was filled with craters and debris. From a distance, they could hear the blaring siren of many an ambulance.

"I came here as fast as I could with Ayame-dono's help," said Kenshin.

"K-Kenshin. S-Sorry. I-I almost had him, but he still had a trick up his sleeve," rasped Yusuke, who had transformed back to his human form, with most of his long hair burned away by Tenro's Kaguzuchi.

"Don't worry, Yusuke. I will finish off what you have started. What everyone had started, that I will," said Himura.

Tenro harrumphed, clutching his side. His chest still ached, his heart beating so fast it felt like it could explode. His brain throbbed and pounded inside his skull as well.

However, his adrenalin and his thrill for the fight coursed through his body, making him ignore every bit of pain he felt. He was about to pass the point of no return, after all.

In the corner of Kenshin's eye, he saw Botan stare at him with her own glistening eyes. He had heard the bad news directly from her care of the Spirit Communicator. She reported that the souls of Sanosuke, Yahiko, and Saito were no more. Also, Kuwabara was in critical condition.

They all fell against the hands of the man... the monster... before him. The wannabe dictator that he should've defeated a hundred years ago.

"I also look forward to fighting you again after all this time, Battousai. Come and die in my hands once more. The only law I follow is Survival of the Fittest. Only the strongest survive!"

"Survival of the Fittest, eh?" asked Kenshin. "Tell me, do you know what the first sign of human civilization is? How humanity became the most dominant species on earth?"

"...What?" asked Tenro in turn. "What are you talking about, Battousai?"

"I believe that the first sign of civilization is a femur that's been broken and then healed," said Himura. "In nature, a broken leg meant death. Kill or killed, right? Humans became the dominant species against stronger animals because of our cooperation and compassion. Helping someone else through difficulty is where civilization starts. We are at our best when we serve others. Be civilized."

"No. Nonsense," said Tenro. "Humanity stands on the shoulders of giants. Normal people are trash. Don't let the weak punish the strong for being strong while they themselves drown in their own mediocrity. Civilization or progress came about because of the strong. The exceptional. The best. The intellectuals. The Superman. The Overman. The Ubermensch. The Chojin."

"So you're the Chojin, huh?" said Himura. While it could be translated as "Overfiend", the name "Chojin" could also be translated as "Superman" or "Overman".

"The fates conspired against me and denied me my destiny to rule. I will write my own destiny now," said the youkiri to his fellow demon-slayer. Fellow manslayer, even.

"Regardless of what you say, both fate and time have already decided that you will not emerge victorious," Kenshin insisted. "You're destined to lose."

Tenro cackled. "Fate and time have chosen poorly, hence the pathetic state of Japan. The state of the world that's being led by sheep in wolves' clothing. Let me correct that century-old mistake. Even now, the weak are depending on your strength to protect them. Let the Ubermensch show the world what it's truly like to be strong! I will show them how to win!"

"It is neither the strongest of the species nor the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is most adaptable to change," said Kenshin, quoting Charles Darwin himself as he fell into his battoujutsu stance.

Himura had to attack now, while Tenro was injured and recuperating. He would've attacked sooner, but he himself had barely recovered from battling Enishi.

As soon as the Shishio reincarnation healed and achieved X-Level, it was all over for the Reikai Senshi.

"AMAKAKERU RYU NO HIRAMEKI!"

"KAGUZUCHI!"

Kenshin and Tenro—or rather, Battousai and Shishio—finally clashed swords, the Youtou Shinnoken glowing bright-blue against the bright-red Mugen Jin. They picked up where they left off.

On one hand, Yusuke's leftover sacred energy powered up the Kaguzuchi and overwhelmed the initial strike of the Hirameki. On the other hand, the resulting void still formed, which multiplied the power of Kenshin's second strike many times over.

Tenro learned from his mistakes, understanding a century ago that there was a void formed after blocking the first strike of the Amakakeru Ryu no Hirameki. He sunk his stance low and pierced his Mugen Jin in the eye of the maelstrom so that his technique could be magnified in power instead of Kenshin's.

Kenshin hesitated, his soul remembering how Shishio snatched a draw from the jaws of defeat. He willed himself to slash upward regardless as an image of Kaoru filled his mind. Followed by all his friends and comrades.

He wished the same image had filled his mind a hundred years ago too. Then he wouldn't have died against Shishio.

Reality seemed to split from the lightspeed slash Kenshin did that clashed hard against Tenro's... no, Shishio's... red-hot cursed sword Mugen Jin.

On Kenshin's left was one timeline and on his right was another.

In one timeline, Kenshin found the strength and will to live to block Shishio's strike before he spontaneously combusted and died from overheating. Soon after, Shishio became the new King of Hell.

In another timeline, Shishio finished Battousai off then murdered Saito, Shinomori, Sagara, and the rest of the Oniwabanshu and Shinsengumi before forming a New Juppon Gatana and leading a coup d'etat against the Meiji Government. A second Bakumatsu. Afterwards, he died a despot. Japan's Genghis Khan.

In the timeline they were in, Kenshin and Shishio fought to a draw, with Kenshin dying along with Shishio in a blaze of glory. A hundred years after their fateful battle, Shishio ended up forming a New Juppon Gatana in order to lead a coup d'etat against the Spirit World.

In nearly all timelines, Shishio woke up from beyond the grave and ended up with an army of the undead, leading the charge towards world domination. Like a phoenix reborn from its own ashes. Again and again.

Even after his death, he was inevitable.

Would Kenshin falter like a hundred years ago or would he rise up and correct his century-old mistake? Which timeline would prevail?

A shining star of a whirling convergence of afterimages happened afterwards, followed by a huge explosion far into the distance. Right into the Sea of Japan.

A 7.8 earthquake then rocked the west coast of Hokkaido.  

On Monday, July 12, 1993, at 10:17 PM, a tsunami had formed off of the coast of Okushiri, leading to the loss of many lives.

***

To Be Continued...

Oh god, finally it's done. This took years to finish due to real-life things cropping up. Regardless, the arc that's been decades in the making is at last over.

Next up, the Spirit World deals with the aftermath of the failed Okushiri mission. Also, the first sign of civilization speech was taken from a quote from Anthropologist Margaret Mead.

Ciao, Abdiel

[talpup]

Summary: Yami Sukehiro just wanted to join the Magic Knights and make his mentor proud.  He knew there would be trails.  He knew trouble would come his way.  Knew he would be faced with discrimination for being a foreigner and a peasant.  What he didn’t know.  Didn’t expect.  Was that literal Chaos would come his way.  That he and his mentor’s sister would be at the center of world ending trouble.  Or that he would fall in love with his mentor’s sister and face more than discrimination; but the jealously of Nozel Silva who loved the same woman he did.

Please remember this fic is rated mature and has warnings of violence, abuse, sexual tension, eventual sexual behavior, and other possible triggers.  For a full list of story tags please check the fics AO3 (link to that at the top of my tumblrs homepage).

Chapter 85

“You done heaving there, Teris?  Good.  Run.”  Greywright barked, not waiting for answer.

Hands on knees Teris glared over at the Magic Knights Commander. Greywright sat on the ground, legs kicked out, ankles crossed. Straight arms propping him up, the Commander's head lolled forward, eyes closed.  The only reason he knew she had stopped running was because one of the three magically created army men that stood guard around the fields perimeter had seen.

Even though it was an hour or so before sunrise and the spring air was chill, Teris was overheated.  She was soaked through with sweat and exhausted.  They all were.  Greywright had them work till they were about to fall over, gave them a ten minute break, and made them work some more.  They had been at it all night.  Running.  Holding their arms out at their sides.  In Yami’s case holding weights.  And all sorts of other physical exercises.  There wasn’t a muscle in Teris’ body that didn’t ache.  There were muscles Teris hadn’t known she had that ached.

One of Greywright’s army men appeared behind Teris.  It grabbed her by the back of her tank top, her button up blouse long since discarded, and moved her along.

“Run.” Greywright commanded, mercilessly.

Nozel passed her as her feet slowly began to move.  The cold, distant look he’d been giving her at the start of their torture session was long gone.  The Silver Eagles eyes were now glazed over with fatigue, pain, and a dazed focus as he endeavored to put one foot in front of the other and not fall over.

Teris saw Yami up ahead.  He wasn’t struggling as bad as Fuegoleon, Nozel, and she.  Though Yami had slowed considerably and took multiple stutter steps as he jogged.  Just before completing another circuit Teris paused to help Fuegoleon to his feet.  Nozel reached them and extended a hand to the Crimson Lion, the two pulling Fuegoleon to his feet.

“That’s enough.  Come on over.”  Greywright called, seeing the charitable act.

Yami cut across the field and saw some of the gouges that Teris and he had made during their first year as Magic Knights training here with Greywright.  He was so tired he couldn’t even smile at the memory.

“Cool down.  Drink some water.  And get some sleep.  I’ll wake you in a couple hours.”  Greywright told.

“How is this--”

Greywright’s eyes snapped to Yami, silencing him.  “Run another ten.”

Yami ground his teeth and took his pace back up.

A ghost of a smirk pulled at the corners of Fuegoleon’s parted, panting lips.  He cast Teris a sharp look as he shouldered passed her.

If the Crimson Lion thought he could get away with it cause Greywright wasn’t looking, he had another thing coming.  One of his army men having seen, Greywright said.  “You can run another seven, Fuegoleon.”

Yami turned back and complained.  “Why do I get ten and he--”

“Make it twelve, Yami.”  Greywright said.

Yami’s lip curled in a snarl.  He glared at the Magic Knights Commander wanting to argue; but knew it would only lead to further laps.

One of Greywright’s army men saw Nozel’s smug pleasure.  “Another six for you, Nozel.”

Teris was afraid to move least the Knights Commander send her back out.

“Have a seat, Teris.  Catch your breath.  Cool down.  Drink up and get some sleep.  We’re far from finished.”  Greywright said.

85.1.2

Yami awoke to a splash of frigid water in the face.  His arms were so sore he fumbled at unsheathing his katana.  Seeing one of Greywright’s faceless army men standing in front of him holding a bucket Yami pushed the half pulled blade back into its scabbard.  He smelled food and his stomach growled in response.

“Water. Bread.”  Greywright clipped, his army men throwing them each a small loaf and water skin.  “You want more than that, you have to answer my questions and earn it.”

The Knights Commander saw Teris shivering in the now muddy ground, and regretted the freezing temperature of the water he had doused her with.  He had forgotten that her regular temp ran higher than normal and that extreme cold effected her that much worse than anyone else. Yami was the exact opposite.  He ran lower and though he preferred it warmer than most, unnaturally higher temps got to him quicker.  It was one of the things that made their ability to tolerate each others magical extremes of heat and cold that much more intriguing.

The memory of the disturbance last night washed away any urge Greywright had to apologize.  The fact that his favorite had been part of such a ruckus angered and disappointed him.  He knew Teris had a temper and quite a ways to grow yet.  But if she was to have a chance of one day taking his position, like she wanted and he was silently rooting for, she couldn’t openly fight with her fellows.  Events like last night could never happen again.

“Teris. Say something nice about Fuegoleon.”  Greywright commanded.

Teris’ eyebrows knitted together.  She cast a glare at her cousin then looked back at Greywright.

“I know you want more than bread and water.”  Greywright urged.

“That’s not a question.  You said— Son of a—damn it!”  Yami cussed, in pain.

Greywright smirked at Yami’s twitching jerk, the Vice Captain's hair standing on end of a brief moment.  He showed them the charm he held.  “Small charge of lightening.  Nothing fatal or injury inducing.  But it hurts like hell.  Especially if your wet.”

“You’re telling me.”  Yami grumbled.  His tongue smacked against the roof of his mouth.  He tasted air.  Could one taste air?  Did air have taste?  Not wanting Teris to suffer that thing, Yami looked at her. “Say something nice about your cousin.”

Teris glanced at Fuegoleon again.  After a moments thought, she finally said.  “He has pretty colored eyes.”

Greywright tried and failed not to sigh.  He was use to managing the Captain's, who often bickered and acted like children in their own right, but this was ridiculous.  “Let’s stay away from the physical.  Focus on who he is.  Traits.  Personality.  Try again.”

Teris glared at the Magic Knights Commander.  “You could have been more specific at the—Ow!  That hurts!”

Nozel and Fuegoleon tensed seeing Teris in pain.  But it was Yami who moved.  Greywright pointed the charm at Yami.  Yami’s lip curled in a silent snarl, but lowered his bottom back to the ground.

The Magic Knights Commander looked across the four Vice Captain's.  “You are here to learn how to behave, obey, and get along.  And not a one of you is leaving until you all have shown me you are capable of these things.”

“I’m going to die here because of an ill tempered foreigner who—“ Fuegoleon’s mutter cut short in a sharp grunt of pain.

“Hurts doesn’t it.”  Yami grinned, seeing the Crimson Lion get some.  He was left gritting his teeth against the buzzing, burning sting.  Yami glared at the Knights Commander.

“Teris. Say something nice about Fuegoleon.”  Greywright said again.

“He’s a good older brother to Leo.”  Teris quickly snipped.

Greywright sighed.  That wasn’t what he was looking for, but it was good enough for now.  “Fuegoleon.  Say something nice about Teris.”

Fuegoleon looked at Teris out of the corner of his eye.  “She’s smart. Most of the time.”

“Let’s not add any caveats at the end.”  Greywright said.  “Nozel.  Say something nice about Yami.”

Nozel’s eyes widened.  Why was the Knights Commander asking the impossible of him?

Greywright pointed the charm at him.  “You heard me.”

The Silver Eagle blinked rapidly, trying to think.  “He might be a brute but his strength can be useful.”

Greywright rubbed his forehead, resisting the urge to zap the royal.  It was his own fault.  “No stipulations of any form anywhere.  Understood. Good.  Yami.”

Yami looked at the Commander his expression one of expectancy.

“Your turn.”  Greywright growled.

“Teris is a fine, strong, capable fighter and leader.”  Yami said.

Greywright pointed the charm at the Black Bull.

Yami growled at the zapping pain.

“You deserved that one.”  Greywright said, feeling a short burst of gratification.  “About Nozel.  Yami.  Say something nice about Nozel.”

“He’s the epitome of what it means to be royal.”  Yami said.

It wasn’t exactly something Yami considered a good thing and knew the others would know that as well; but there was little Greywright could do unless he was willing to go on record in front of three royals saying that calling someone a perfect example of royalty wasn’t a nice thing to say.

Greywright sighed, feeling tired and defeated despite the small measure of success.  “Eat up.”

Greywright knew what the problem was between Yami and Nozel.  There was no fixing the issue anytime soon.  Hopefully once Teris turned twenty and the decision she had to make came to a head, things would settle down between the two men.  Till then, the best they could hope for was Yami and Nozel not turning on each other on a battlefield and the most basic civility.

As for Fuegoleon and Teris.  Greywright had no clue what they were fighting over; but he intended to find out and see that it was fixed. He might've blamed Teris for instigating something, given the smell of alcohol on her breath last night.  But the fact that Fuegoleon had responded in kind meant there was more to it.

The Magic Knights Commander decided to give them the choice.  “We can sit here and Fuegoleon and Teris can tell us why they’re fighting. Or you can run till you drop.”

Nozel looked up.  “After eating, running would--”

“I didn’t say it’d be fun or good for you.”  Greywright cut over the royal’s words.  He looked over the four Vice Captain's. “Choose.”

“Hearing why they’re fighting.”  Nozel said, eyes moving between Teris and Fuegoleon.

“It’s cause the Lion Cub’s an--”  Yami fell silent seeing Greywright lift the charm.

“Yami’s right.  It’s cause Leon’s a--”  Teris snapped her mouth shut when Greywright pointed the charm at her.

“Running it is.”  Greywright said, with forced cheer.

“Wait.” Fuegoleon said.  “They’re not wrong.  At least not completely.” He looked at Teris.  “I was wrong.  Lord Nova wouldn’t be ashamed of you.”

Teris’ expression softened.

“He would be ashamed of what you’re doing.”  Fuegoleon went on.

Teris pushed to her feet and kicked a clod of mud at the Crimson Lion.

Greywright resisted the urge to zap all four of them.  Damn the royals pride. They had been so close to making a positive step.  “Run.”

“I hate you.”  Nozel grumbled at Fuegoleon as they got to their feet.

“It was because of what you told me that I went there in the first place. I was doing it for both of your sake's.”  Fuegoleon snapped.

Nozel spun around to face the Crimson Lion.  “I don’t require your assistance!  Teris is my Intended and--”

“I’m not going to marry you!  Will you just stop!  I have less than a year and a half left before you both finally see I mean what I say and hate me.  Can we not--”  Teris blinked, feeling woozy.

“Teris?” Nozel took a step toward her and fell over.

“Nozel!” Fuegoleon reached out and fell over as well.

Ahead of them, already at a steady jog, Yami stopped and turned around.  As he did he noticed Greywright’s army men had disappeared.  His eyes darted to the Commander and saw Greywright had fallen forward from his seated position on the ground.  He turned to Teris to find Nozel and Fuegoleon were also on the ground.  Thankfully they weren’t dead, his sense of Ki telling him so.

“Get them out of here!”  Yami ordered Teris, unsheathing his katana, eyes and other senses scanning the field of their foe.

“I can’t.”

Yami was already sprinting back to her and their fallen comrades.  “Don’t argue!  Just do it!”

Teris wished the world would stop spinning at a blur.  “No, Yami.  I can--”

Yami rushed the last few steps, catching Teris as she collapsed.  His heart hammered in his chest.  He lowered Teris to the ground and cloaked his katana in darkness.

Teris had said she couldn’t light travel.  Was that because she was weakening and loosing consciousness?  Just because he could still use his magic didn’t mean that this wasn’t Calen’s magic.  The Agents of Chaos had toyed with them before.

Yami saw movement in the distance.  He counted three figures.  They disappeared and reappeared six paces in front of him.  It wasn’t spatial magic.  It was some other form of travel.

“Unless you want to die.  I suggest you leave.”  Yami growled, trying to focus his fuzzy head.

A man pointed at Yami and Teris.  “That’s them.  I sensed their power last night.  It had to have flooded at least a quarter of Castle City.”

“Pay him.”  Said a woman with green glowing eyes.

Yami watched the second man form a shadowy spear and thrust it through the first man.  It wasn’t that Yami had wanted to stand by and do nothing.  But he couldn’t hold the dark magic cloak on his katana. He could barely even hold his blade up.

“You still using your toxin magic, Lila?”  Asked the man who had killed the other.

Lila continued to stare at Yami.  “Can’t you see my eyes glowing, Sorn?  Why ask what you already know?  He’s just that strong.”

Sorn tilted his head, inspecting Yami.  “Interesting.  There might just be something to those fanatics beliefs after all.”

“You can’t be serious.  Magical science will explain this.  Not magical religion.”  Lila watched Yami stumble as he tried to fight through the toxins effects and stay standing.

Sorn nodded.  “Of course.  I only meant--  Never mind he’s fading.”

Yami fell to the ground.

Sorn looked down at the man he had killed.  “He didn’t say three others would be here.  What do we do with them?  Leave them?”

The glow in Lila’s green eyes faded.  Her grimoire snapped shut and fell into her hand.  “Two royals and the Magic Knights Commander? We take them.  Rayla will be pleased.”

85.2

“Light cannot survive without Darkness.  For without Darkness how would one know what Light was?”

“I don’t have time for this Creepy.”  Yami rumbled.  “A man and woman took us out.  I need to wake up.”

“You are the Lord of Destruction.  The final end.”

“Can we not use that name.  It reminds me of a certain dead bastard.” Yami said.

“Your time is coming.  The Darkness grows within.”

“Yeah. I kinda figure we got it wrong and they didn’t want us for the Winter Solstice.  If only we realized it sooner…”  Thinking of Bronn, Yami muttered.  “The things that happened didn’t need to happen.”

“You must possess the Ray of Annihilation if you hope to triumph.”

“You mean Teris?  Yeah, even when I finally marry her I don’t see much possessing going on.  She’s kind of her own person.  It’s one of the things I like that about her.  Anyway, if I’m this dark destructive force, why would I want to triumph?  Wouldn’t that be a bad thing?”

The voice started up with another riddle.

“Stop! I don’t have time for nonsense I won’t remember.  I need to--” Yami woke-up to someone tapping his cheek.  His eyes opened to find an unknown face too close to his.

“There we are.  Last to go down.  Last to rise.  Hello handsome.  I’m Rayla.”  She saw Yami pull against his bindings and told.  “Don’t bother.  Those are unbreakable.”

“I’ve heard that before.”  Yami said, continuing to pull against the cord holding his wrists together above his head.

“Fine and feisty.”  Rayla ran her fingers along Yami’s arms and chest.

“And taken.”  Yami told.  “Don’t go for older women anyway.”

“A shame.  We older women know things those pure virgins don’t.” Rayla leaned forward and breathed into Yami’s ear.  “Is she watching?  Your girl.  Does she look angry?  Jealous?  Let’s give her a good show, shall we.”  She grabbed Yami from beneath his jaw fingers digging into his cheeks and pressed her lips to his, tongue trying to force its way into his mouth.

Yami bit her tongue.  He jerked his face free of Rayla’s grasp, and spat out the blood and taste of her.

Rayla stepped back and pointed something at Yami.  “Maybe later.”

Yami’s mouth opened to fling insults and demand what she wanted; but he found he couldn’t speak.  He tired again.  Tired yelling.  But no sound came.  He had wondered why he hadn’t heard anything from the others and realized Rayla had likely done the same to them.  It was unnerving.

Yami looked at Teris who was bound against the opposite wall from him. Fuegoleon was tied in the same fashion to Teris’ right.  Yami turned his head seeing Nozel to his left and Commander Greywright on the Silver Eagles other side.  Even though they were all bound and rendered speechless, at least they were all together and alive.  For now.

Rayla moved in front of Greywright.  “I must say, you’ve turned into an exceptionally fine specimen.  Though not as fine as those two.” She looked over at Yami and Teris, eyes closing and breathed.  “The mana coming off of them is intoxicating.  The young buck especially. Shame on you and your Wizard King for trying to keep them all to yourselves.  Shame on my King for letting you.”

“Your King didn’t want his kingdom to face the consequences.” Greywright said, feeling Rayla give him the ability to speak.

Rayla laughed.  “What consequences?  Do you mean the threat that you’d use those two as the weapon they could be?  Everyone, including my King, knew that as a lie.”

“So he let you have your way.”  Greywright surmised.

“Hardly. I’ve learned there are times when it’s better to beg forgiveness, preferably with results in hand, than wait for permission.”  Rayla said.

“You’ve made a grave mistake.  Taking Yami and Teris would’ve been bad enough.  But to take two royal princes?  The Silva’s and Vermillion’s will want their heirs back untouched and unharmed.  We would’ve sent select teams of Magics Knights to retrieve Yami and Teris.  But for Nozel and Fuegoleon.  There will be war.” Greywright told.

“I will be returning both you and your four Magic Knights.  But I can’t guarantee they’ll be returned unharmed.  That all depends on them. As for untouched...”  Rayla smiled, wickedly.  “I’ll have my hands all over all four of them soon enough.  As for your threat of war.  It won’t come.  My King hasn’t sanctioned this.  He isn’t aware I have you.  Nor will he until I’m done.  So you can come off your threats Commander.  They’re as futile as the one Jorah gave my King about using those two against us should we make a move for them.”

85.3

The Black Bulls Captain had been fetched by Cob and told that Sir Jorah wished to see him.  At first he had thought it was for a stern talking to about his Vice Captain's behavior last night.  But at the sight of Julius standing beside Kess outside of the Wizard Kings office, he was no longer so sure.

Tapping down his concern, Jax stopped near the other Captain's.  “What’s going on?  Cob was smiley and useless as usual.  I swear there’s something wrong that man.  No one’s that happy all the time.”

“He’s behind you.”  Julius said.

Jax turned and saw the Spatial Mage.  “Shit.  Sorry, Cob.  Please don’t transport me into a volcano.”

Though his smile wasn’t as wide, Cob still wore one.  He waved goodbye and turned away.  “Have a good afternoon.”

Jax watched Cob disappear down the hall.  “Yeah.  That man’s not normal.”

Julius almost said it was because he was use to Bronn’s surliness but caught himself.

“I don’t know.  I think he still might portal you to the bottom of the sea.”  Kess smirked.

Jax turned to her.  “Look at you.  Making snide comments.  Only a week in as Captain and you think you can disrespect me?”

“Leave her, Jax.”  Julius turned to Kess and told.  “It’s his way of saying he’s proud of you.”

Jax gestured to Kess.  “Considering you’re here, I’m figuring our rowdy delinquents are to blame.  What’d they do this time?  Gang up on Greywright and escape whatever hell he was putting them through?”

Kess blinked.  Nozel was far from rowdy and no delinquent.  The royal certainly wouldn’t ever gang up on the Magic Knights Commander.

Julius shrugged.  “Don’t know.  But Mereoleona’s in there with Sir Jorah now.”

“Then why aren’t we?  Don’t tell me Teris kill Fuegoleon.”  Jax said.

Julius raised a humored brow.  “Doubtful.”

“Nozel wouldn’t have done anything.”  Kess said, in defense of her Vice Captain.

“Right.” Jax drawled.  “Cause your little royal prince of a Vice Captain was innocent of any wrong doing in the first place.  Well except for the spear of mercury Greywright said he had primed and ready above Yami’s head.”

Kess frowned.  “If your--”

“Silence!” Jorah commended from behind his desk.

The three Captain’s turned to see the office door had been opened by Ellara.

“It’s no wonder your Vice Captain’s were caught behaving like heathens with you for examples.  If we didn’t have something more troubling to deal with I’d personally give all three of you a lesson on decorum.  Now get in here.”  Jorah ordered.

The three Captain’s lined up beside Mereoleona who stood before the Wizard Kings desk.  Ellara closed the door and moved to stand behind Sir Jorah’s left shoulder.  She didn’t miss the way Julius and Jax watched her, though she was too upset to care.

Eyes on his Captain's, Jorah informed.  “Mereoleona visited the training grounds Greywright had taken the four Vice Captain’s to.  Instead of finding the Commander and Vice Captain's, she discovered an unknown dead man.  He’d been speared through the head by some as yet unidentified type of magic.  Leona reports there was no signs of struggle.  Magic Investigations was immediately sent to the scene but so far have yet to find anything that would tell us what happened.”

Whatever nerves Kess had felt disappeared in her concern for her Vice Captain. “Are you thinking they were taken?  All of them?  Nozel. Commander Greywright.”

“That’s what it looks like.”  Jorah said.

Julius glanced at Ellara, certain this was the Agents of Chaos’ doing. But the Advisor appeared truly unnerved.  Apprehensive even.

The Wizard King looked at the four Captain’s before him.  “We have not received any messages for ransom or any other kind.  Neither have House Silva or Vermillion.  With no messages and no clues found, we have no idea who took them or why.”

“To take all five of them without a fight, let alone a struggle.  It had to have been done through passive means.”  Jax said.

“Someone they knew?”  Kess theorized.

“Sleep magic.  Toxin magic.”  Julius said, thinking aloud.  “Spatial magic would have left a sign.  Small almost imperceptible.  But a sign nonetheless.  Same with a dimensional shift.  There’s marionette magic.  Or even blood magic.  But Commander Greywright has dealt with both enough to fight against it, if not break through such control.  There surely would’ve been some kind of sign of him doing so.”

“Yami and Teris too.”  Jax said, thinking Yami especially given his dealings with not just Iban but the Witch Queen.

“There are too many passive types of magic.  And that’s if one was use. We can’t go rounding up everyone with such types of magic.  We can’t even question them all.”  Jorah said, concern for his Commander making him wish he could.

“Let me go, Sir.”  Julius said.

Jorah knew what the Captain was thinking.  “Magic Investigations timed the mans death.  It’s been too long for you to see anything, Julius.”

“The least I can do is try.  We have no leads.  We have nothing.  Please, sir.  Let me try.”  Julius pleaded.

Ellara held her breath, hoping the Wizard King would agree.

Jorah nodded and rose to his feet.  To Ellara, he ordered.  “Fetch Cob.”

Ellara nodded and exited the office.

Neither Julius or Kess made a joke about Jax being transported to the bottom of the sea.  Ellara returned with Cob in tow.

“The scene if you will.”  Jorah commanded.

Cob opened a portal and they all walked through.

Jax took in the barren field.  The nearest hiding place was a tree line over three hundred meters away.  Unless the abductors had an invisibility mage, or Magic Investigations had messed up and missed the sign of spatial or dimensional magic, there was no way anyone could’ve sneaked up on them.  He wished he knew the range Yami could sense of someones Ki; though Jax knew it had a lot to do with Yami’s focus at the time.

Jax looked back at Julius seeing his friend had wasted no time in starting the spell.  Depending how far back he looked, it would leave him exhausted and empty of mana.  But if it gave them some clue as to what happened.  Some direction to begin their search.  It was worth it.

85.4

Useless as it was, Greywright pulled at his bindings.  He’d do anything to protect his Magic Knights.  “Rayla!  Don’t do this.”

“It’s a simple test, Commander.  Every hopeful in the Spade Kingdom must complete it if they are to become a Sorcery Lance.”  Rayla smirked haughtily at Greywright.  “Are you saying that your Vice Captain’s are incapable of surviving the most basic of tests?”

“We won’t play your sick games.”  Nozel told.

Rayla’s eyes flicked to the royal.  She left Greywright and stepped in front of Nozel.  “Once you’re in there you play or you die, Handsome. While it would be a shame to lose you so soon.  It really is no matter to me.  But, I suggest you and Teris complete the trial sooner rather than later.  For his sake.”  She looked to Nozel’s right at Yami and moved to the Black Bull, placing a hand on his chest. “Oh my.”

Yami jerked at the touch, not having noticed Rayla coming to stand before him.  He thrashed, trying to shake off her hand.

“You’re not doing so good.  Are you?”  Rayla questioned in mock concern.

Vision blurry, Yami glared at Magical Scientist.  Taking in an unsteady breath, he panted.  “I’m doing well enough to kill your ass. Your so fond of tests and trials.  Release me and--”  He blinked, spotty vision tunneling.  His lolled.

“Yami!” Teris fought against her bindings with renewed vigor.  She growled at Rayla.  “What did you do to him?”

“It’s not what I’m doing to him.  It’s what he’s doing to himself. You see those bindings are doing so much more than holding you in place.  They’re holding your mana in place.  Giving it no way to naturally breathe and release.  Instead, it’s building up inside you.”  Rayla turned to Teris.  “You must be feeling it’s effects too.  A feverish sense that’s making you tired, weak, and achy.  Almost as if you’re sick with a cold.”

Teris paused, realizing Rayla was doing the same thing Cin had done.  Did that mean Yami was close to losing himself and having the Darkness inside him take over?  After everything Greywright had put them through she was naturally tired, weak, and achy.  No doubt they all were.  But the feeling had grown considerably worse.  And now that she thought about it, this feeling was all too similar to how she felt when Cin had taken her.

Smiling at Teris, Rayla reached back running a hand over Yami’s chest and stomach.  “Having a full store of mana is a good thing. Overflowing with mana is amazing.  But having no way for mana to breath can be deadly.  Think of what would have happened if the mana building in you on the Summer Solstice had no way of getting out. Beautiful sight by the way.  Such an impressive display of power. Wish I had been there to see it, you must’ve been glorious.  But, you had your time.”  She turned, looking at the near unconscious Yami.  “His time is still coming.  While I don’t full understand it or agree with those nut cases, I intend to find the reasoning behind it.  Magical science can and will explain this.”

Teris watched Yami.  He was shivering, the beads of sweat on his brow frosting over.  “Let the excess mana out of him and I’ll play whatever game you want.”

“Teris!” Nozel yelled.

Teris glanced at him.  Nozel didn’t understand.  She would’ve done anything for Yami.  But in this case it wasn’t just about Yami.  In a way she was doing this for Nozel.  She was doing it for all of them.  If Yami lost control and the Darkness inside him took over, they all might die.  She looked at Greywright who gave her a less than pleased nod, seeing no other way.

“No.” Rayla said.  “First you pass the test.  Then I’ll give his building mana release.”

Teris pressed her lips together.  Yami wasn’t looking good and she had no idea what this test of Rayla’s entailed.  So much for bargaining.

With one last look at Yami, Teris fixed her gaze on Rayla.  “Fine.”

85.4.2

Next thing Teris knew, she and Nozel were standing in an arena, hands unbound.

Wanting to explain, Teris scanned the place and apologized.  “I’m sorry. It’s just--”

“Not now.”  Nozel snapped.  He stepped quickly to her, eyes darting about the arena.  “Can you light travel?”

Even if Teris was willing to leave the others, she couldn't light travel. She shook her head, rubbing her raw wrists.  That’s when she noticed it.  A metal band around her right wrist.

Nozel frowned at the foreign item around Teris’ wrist and inspected himself, finding he wore a similar one.  “Probably limiting or blocking our magic.”

Unable to pull the thing off, Teris raised her hand.  She launched a blast of light that tore a hole through the arena wall.  She tried to see passed the opening; but there was nothing.  It was similar to dimensional space, but different too.

The wall rebuilt itself.

“Probably limiting us to a point.”  Teris agreed.  “It would hardly be an accurate test if our magical abilities were limited too much.  And I think she truly wants to see what we’re capable of.”  She focused properly on Nozel for the first time.  “Are you okay?”

Though Nozel’s wound, where Rayla had cut a chunk out of him had stopped bleeding for the most part.  It still seeped.

“Yeah, cause you look so much better.”  Nozel said, looking over in her wounds.

Due to the nature of Teris’ magic her wounds had slowly cauterized themselves.  At least that’s what Nozel supposed the reasoning was. But the gouge and two deep cuts still looked quite painful.

Nozel looked down at his cut opened, stained shirt.  Beneath was the still oozing wound where a piece of him the size of a child's fist was missing from the left side of his abdomen.  “As soon as I start moving this thing is going to open up.  You think you can burn it closed without burning me to a crisp?”

With the heightened level of mana that was raw and storming from both her emotions and having been bottled up, Teris couldn’t guarantee that she wouldn’t burn more than needed.  But she would do her best.

“The only way to know is try.”  Teris said.

Nozel gave her an ill-humored look.  “That’s hardly reassuring.  Do it.”

Teris reached out tentatively.  “You—uh.  You need to lif—lift your shirt.  That is unless you want fabric burned into your flesh.”

Nozel looked at her.  His hands moved to the hem of his shirt and slowly lifted it, exposing a part of him he never thought he’d show her until they were married.

Teris’ eyes darted to the side, unable to stare into his crystal blue eyes any longer.  She thought about Yami and how they had to hurry. “Ready?”

Teris gave Nozel a second to tuck his tongue and grit his teeth.  She glanced at his uncovered stomach, looking away as soon as her hand was positioned over the wound.  Her hand began to glow.  Teris’ nose wrinkled at the smell of burning flesh that filled her nostrils. Just as she pulled her hand away, Nozel’s eyes went from a squeezed pain filled grimace to wide, worried surprise.

Nozel grabbed Teris.  He pulled her into his arms and turned, shielding her with his body in case he hadn’t been quick enough and something got through his mercury shield.  Teris didn’t even have a moment to take a breath before she sensed another attack coming.  She pushed Nozel down and didn’t bother taking the time to raise her hand to aim, the light appearing out of nowhere to hit it’s target.

85.4.3

Rayla watched a projection of Nozel and Teris on a vaporous cloud in the center of her lab and explained to her captives.  “Usually Sorcery Lance hopefuls will face such a test in teams of six or eight with one, maybe two individuals out of every dozen or so teams making it through unscathed enough to consider as having passed.  But, seeing as these two are royals and Magic Knight Vice Captain’s I upped the level of difficulty and did away with the safety measures.  At least one of them should make it through alive.”

Fuegoleon snarled.  “You sick--”

Rayla turned to Fuegoleon silencing his voice.  “Don’t worry, my Prince.  You’ll have a chance to prove yourself soon enough.”

“Rayla! You have to let Yami’s mana release.”  Greywright said, truly worried.

Rayla looked over her shoulder.  “I set the rules, Commander.”

“Meaning you can break them.”  Greywright said.

He knew he might’ve just set a dangerous precedent.  But at the moment it didn’t matter.  Yami’s body was burning up as his mana built. Greywright could feel the near overwhelming power.  No physical form was meant to house that much raw magical force.  No mortal body could contain it and survive.  At least not for long.

Rayla tilted her head as if considering the Knights Commander’s words.

“Yami’s your greatest interest.  If he dies all your questions go unanswered.”  Greywright reminded.

The Magic Knights Commander had a point.  With reports of Teris’ magic seeming to have normalized after the Summer Solstice.  Rayla’s main interest was in Yami, and the connection Yami and Teris’ magic had. It was the entire reason she had gone against her King’s command and sent Sorn and Lila to the Clover Kingdom.

Looking at Greywright, Rayla walked to Yami’s listless form.  “I tell you what.  I won’t release the bind that’s bottling his mana.  But I will give him a reprieve.  It should afford Teris and the Silva Prince an extra twenty minutes to clear the test or die trying. After that, it’s up to them to save Yami’s life.  And Yami’s willingness to hold onto that life until they’ve completed the trial I’ve set them.  You understand how these things work, Commander.  You’ve been in my lab before.  Without consequences, even ones that disappoint me, there is no obedience.”

Rayla grabbed a fistful of Yami’s sweat drenched hair, pulling and lifting his head.  Yami’s closed eyes barely fluttered.

She looked over her prized lab rat and cooed.  “You really are bad off. Aren’t you, handsome?”  Never taking her eyes off Yami, she told.  “I was wrong, Commander.  Your battling Vice Captain's have ten minutes, possibly less.”

Rayla lined up her mouth up with Yami’s.  She pulled in close, centimeters apart.  Mouth opening, she took in a deep breath.  A dense, dark purple, almost black cloud billowed out of Yami’s mouth and entered hers.

Greywright relaxed.  Even though Yami didn’t do more than take in a deep shuddering breath, Greywright sensed sizable portion of excess mana leave the younger man.

Rayla stepped back sputtering.  Her body felt as if it were bearing an infinite weight.  Her lungs burned from a biting cold.  She coughed out the mana she’d taken in, gasping.

Fuegoleon’s breath caught at the sight of Rayla’s eyes.  They were black.  Even the whites of the woman’s eyes were black.  Then she blinked and her eyes were back to their normal watery grey.

Shaking off the disturbing sight, Fuegoleon looked at Yami.  The Black Bull still didn’t look good.  Then again with as much as Rayla had cut into Yami, no one would.  While Yami had received most of Rayla’s focus, none of them had been spared.  None but Greywright that is.

While Fuegoleon wouldn’t wish such torture on anyone, he had wondered at the Commander’s exclusion.  That was until Rayla mentioned Greywright had been in her lab before.  If Commander Greywright had been in Rayla’s captive custody once before, that meant he had escaped.  Though Rayla had likely learned from the escape and taken measures to stop it happening again, it still gave Fuegoleon hope.

He looked away from the vaporous screen that showed Teris take a hit that sent her flying.  Turning back, Fuegoleon saw an attack break through Nozel’s mercury shield as if it wasn’t even there.  He grimaced in sympathetic concern when three magical spears pierced Nozel’s side, thigh, and shoulder.

A cold sweat broke out on his brow, his vision blurred for a few heartbeats.  Fuegoleon wondered if this was the first sign of the effects Rayla had mentioned.  If his own mana was beginning to build passed his body’s tolerance.  He looked at the Knights Commander to see him shivering with what he assumed was the same, only further along.

Greywright turned away from the image of a barbed chain wrapping around Teris’ arm and throwing her against the arena wall.  His eyes met Fuegoleon’s, noticing the Vermillion's color and sweat.  “You have to keep con--”

Rayla silenced Greywright’s voice.  “Let the young ones learn to survive on their own, Commander.  You did.  Think you’re better than this fine royal specimen?”  She moved to Fuegoleon.  “I always wondered about you Clover Kingdom royals.  Naturally endowed with such extraordinary mana and magical ability.”  She placed a hand on his chest.  “What else are you greatly endowed with?”

Fuegoleon jerked when her hand ran down his chest to his stomach.

Rayla plucked at the waistband of Fuegoleon’s pants.  “Care to show me the full weighty might of a royal prince?”

Fuegoleon saw Teris take another hit, and glared at Rayla.  “You’re dampening their magic.”

“I have to sweet one.”  Rayla said.

“Because you’re afraid they’ll win your little game?”  Fuegoleon accused.

Rayla bristled.  “I fear no one and nothing.  Not even death.”

“Funny you should say that.  Shall we put it to the test?”  A voice asked, their figure appearing in the middle of the lab.

Rayla spun around to face the intruder.  “Who are you?  How did you get in here?”

“I am Death.”  Alowishus said, as if that should’ve been obvious.

“Lila! Sorn.”  Rayla called.

Alowishus gave a small, slow shake of his head.  “They can’t hear you. They’re dead.  Which conveniently answers your second question. How we got in here.”

Rayla’s eyes narrowed.  “We?”

Alowishus looked to the screen which showed three others had joined Nozel and Teris in the trial arena.  “No one can leave until the trail is complete or all the combatants are dead.  Yes?  I wouldn’t have bothered sending in three of my people.  One would have sufficed in putting an end to your little game.  But, I couldn’t trust that Teris wouldn’t end up fighting her helping hand.  Even with her magic dampened to such a level.  She is a force that should be respected.”

Despite his getting in, Rayla was dismissive in her magics attempt to control the intruder.

Alowishus stared at her.  “You cannot control Death.  No one can.”

Snarling, Rayla extended both her hands and tried again.

Alowishus looked back at the image of the fight.  “My people are nearly done with your little test.  And I’m done with you.  Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s impolite to play with anothers toys?  At least your King understands.”  At Rayla’s expression, Alowishus raised a brow.  “What?  You thought your King feared that empty threat Jorah gave?”  He took a step and was in front of her so fast it was like he disappeared and reappeared.  “Yami and Teris are mine.”

Rayla fell back sensing the mans power.  It was more than Teris’.  More than Yami’s.  Possibly more than the both of them combined.  How had he managed to hide such a power; shield it from her senses until now?  What was even more frightening was that Rayla didn’t know if this was the full extent of his power, or if he was only showing her a hint of it.

Rayla scooted away from him.  “You—you can have them.  I’m sorry.”

Alowishus stared down at her without expression.  “No you’re not.  But you will be.”

Rayla gasped and begun to writhe on the floor.

Fuegoleon watched the horrifying scene, unable to look away despite his revulsion.  Rayla had experiment on them.  Tortured them.  She laid hands on and humiliated him.  Despite all that, Fuegoleon struggled against his bindings with renewed vigor in an effort to free himself and help her.

Rayla deserved to spend the rest of her days in prison.  She might have even deserved to be executed.  But that was for a lawful trial to decide.  She didn’t deserve to slowly wither and decay to nothing.

Rayla screamed and convulsed until she no longer could.  Even after she stopped, her eyes moved in their hollowed sockets.  Her body twitched, mouth still open in a silent wail of agony.

Fuegoleon watched Rayla’s eyes lose their sheen of life and stare vacantly at the man who had called himself Death.  Just when Fuegoleon thought he couldn’t be repulsed further, Rayla’s form cracked and crumbled to dust.

“From the earth you came.  So to the earth you shall return.”  Alowishus intoned, staring at the pile of dust that had been a living human mere moments before.  He turned and stepped to Yami, the hem of his cloak sweeping through Rayla’s remains.  “Look what she’s done to you, my boy.  Magical science.”  Alowishus scoffed.  “Unworthy, disbelieving fools.  This wouldn’t have killed you.  But it would have set you off before your time.”

He placed a hand flat on Yami’s chest and took in the excess mana. Alowishus shivered, wracked with pain as his body initially rejected Yami’s mana.  A purple-black cloud billowed around him.  Alowishus gritted his teeth forcing his body to soak the mana back in.

Slowly the dark cloud disappeared, drawn in by Alowishus.

“After being weakened from taking in the Light Bringers essence, I needed that.”  Alowishus muttered.  He looked over his shoulder at the scattered pile that had once been Rayla.  “I suppose your foolishness was good for something after all.”  He pulled off the charm on Yami’s bindings that stopped his mana from naturally releasing then made his way to Greywright and did the same.  “I trust you’ll recover in time to see the Vermillion prince is released before he burns up and dies.  Or not.”  Alowishus lifted a shoulder.  “It makes no difference to me.”

Greywright tried to break free of his bindings but was too weak.  The built up mana released from him far too slowly for him to regain the physical power or clear thinking that would allow him to access his magic.

Three Agents of Chaos appeared with an unconscious Nozel and Teris.

Alowishus looked at Yami and Teris, and told Greywright.   “Take better care of them, Commander.  I’ll be forced to take them away if you don’t. Trust me.  None of us wants them in my extended custody.”  He moved to his followers and ordered.  “Misandre.”

“Master.” Misandre lifted a hand, Bronn’s hand; and she, Alowishus, Himmel, and Yuric stepped through the portal.

Comments and reblogs are VERY MUCH appreciated and really make my day; so as a 'tip' for reading this free work please leave a comment if you enjoyed reading it.

Next chapter snippet:

“Death should not be here.”  The voice said, sounding offended and confused.

Alowishus looked about the black void that was somehow both substance and space.  Eyes fixing on Yami, Alowishus said in awe.  “This is you. Or a representation of the force within you.”

[tellmewhatyouc]

prompt: poison

fandom: one piece

characters: law, shachi & penguin

words: 804

[ao3 link]

Shachi had a pretty terrible day.

It started with an attack on their ship— something they weren’t accustomed to to begin with, since they spent the majority of their time underwater. But they just had to resurface, because Bepo wouldn’t stop complaining about the heat, and they just so happened to come up directly beside an enemy ship.

Thankfully, Bepo and Shachi were the only ones out on the deck, so all they had to do was run back inside and alert the rest of the crew. Their retreat was swift and graceful as always, as Law insisted they had no reason to stay and fight. It simply wasn’t worth the hassle.

Of course, all the panic and running only left Bepo feeling overheated again, so the complaining continued. It was enough to give Shachi a headache.

Though, even after he’d separated himself from the whiny mink, his head hurt. In fact, his whole body hurt. And why was he feeling so tired, all of a sudden?

“Hey, do you know where the captain is?” he asked, nudging Penguin’s arm.

“Dunno. Infirmary, maybe?” Penguin shrugged, but when he looked back at Shachi, his jaw dropped. “Shit, what’s wrong with you?” he asked. “You look like you’re gonna hurl.”

Shachi frowned, and swatted Penguin’s hand away when it reached towards his forehead. “I’m not gonna hurl,” he insisted. “Just feelin’ kinda… off. I’m sure he can figure out what’s wrong.”

“Do you need me to walk you down there?” Penguin asked. “If you’re gonna drop dead in the middle of the hallway, someone should probably be around to see it.”

“I’m fine, Pen, probably just ate somethin’ bad,” Shachi replied. However, when he turned to walk away, he would have toppled over if not for Penguin grabbing the back of his suit. He huffed. “Fine. Let’s go.”

By the time they made it to the infirmary, Shachi was glad he’d accepted the help. He was so dizzy that he was practically dead weight against Penguin’s side, and he didn’t even realize they’d arrived until he heard Law’s voice.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“We don’t know,” Penguin answered, and then Shachi felt himself moving to another pair of arms. Law led him to lie down on one of the exam tables, and made quick work of unzipping his suit. Shachi didn’t realize how hot he was until it was off of him, leaving him in only a tank top and a thin pair of shorts.

“...Shachi?”

He blinked. Oh, Law had been speaking to him. He had that concentrated look on his face, the same one he always had when he was Scanning them for injuries. “Huh?”

“Those pirates you saw on the surface,” Law said, “Did they attack you?”

Shachi shook his head. “I didn’t feel anything,” he said. “One of them had some kinda gun, I think. But I didn’t hear it go—” He grunted as Law none-too-gently rolled him onto his side and pulled up the back of his tank top.

“You’ve been poisoned.”

Shachi could only stutter in response.

“How the hell did you figure that out so fast?” Penguin asked, voicing Shachi’s exact thoughts.

“There’s a mark on his back. Someone must have shot him when he was retreating.” Law rolled him onto his back again. “The signs are obvious. Aren’t you paying attention?”

Shachi wanted to tell Law to go easy on the poor guy, but his brain felt like mush and it was nearly impossible to form any words.

“Hold still,” Law instructed. “I’ll take care of it.”

With that, the familiar feeling of Law’s Room surrounded him. There was something oddly peaceful about being at the mercy of his captain’s powers, though he’d never say that out loud. All of his pain went away in an instant, and he knew he was safe from any harm. 

The sight of his own dismembered body parts didn’t bother him anymore, as he’d been subject to it many times before. The viscous purple liquid floating from those parts, however… that was new. Despite the brain fog, he realized it was most likely the aforementioned poison, and he couldn’t help but be impressed by Law’s precision. Of course, he had no idea how the hell his powers worked, but still.

It only seemed to take a few minutes before Shachi’s body was reassembled, and Law dispeled his Room. “You should be fine within the next few hours,” he said, answering the question before Shachi could even think to ask it. “How are you feeling now?”

Shachi rubbed his eyes. How was he feeling? “Tired,” he answered, “Kinda fuzzy. But better.”

“Good,” Law replied. Shachi wasn’t sure if it was the lasting effects of the poison making him hallucinate, but he swore he felt Law pat his shoulder. “Get some rest.”

[let-it-raines]

Betting on the Bullseye (19/?)

Summary: Emma Swan loses a bet that means she has to ask her celebrity crush to be her date to her office’s annual fundraising gala. Killian Jones is that celebrity crush. She expects all kinds of humiliation and for her dignity to be completely lost. What she doesn’t expect is for him to say yes.

Rating: Mature

A/N: Sometimes I look at the summary of this story and am just kind of like...that is not at all what this story is about anymore. But hey, it’s what the original prompt was about, so it works! Anyways, happy Tuesday! I hope you all have a great week!

AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19

Tag list: @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @wellhellotragic​ @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @artistic-writer @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @galaxyzxstark @lifeinahole27 @andiirivera @ultimiflos @hollyethecurious @thejollyroger-writer @superchocovian @cs-forlife @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @notoriouscs

“What’s the weather going to be like today?”

“Look it up on your phone.”

“I am shaving my legs right now. Don’t exactly have access to my phone.”

She keeps running her razor over her calf, trying to make sure she’s not going to end up with a nasty cut that’ll just get irritated by the salt water, when Killian pops his head in the shower, a giant smile covering his entire face while his eyes trace up and down her body. It makes a quick shiver run down her spine until she remembers that she’s still got to shave her entire left leg. He is not stopping her from getting this done.

“What are you doing?”

“Choosing to look at you while I’m talking instead of yelling over the spray of the water.” “I think you are just choosing to look at me because I’m naked.”

He winks, running his tongue over his bottom lip in what has to be the most exaggerated motion she’s ever seen. “Exactly.”

“I’m literally going to be wearing as little as possible all day long. I think you’ll get your viewing of skin without a problem.” “Yes, but in front of my family. I can’t ravish you there.” “And you’re not going to ravish me now.” She waves her razor in his face, and he backs up a bit, laughing at her silent threat. He totally shouldn’t be laughing at her silent threat. It wasn’t even really a threat. She just wants to have smooth legs. He should want her to have smooth legs too. It feels better that way even if it’s so damn annoying to shave.

“Got it, got it,” he sighs, resting his hip against the wet stone. “I was just going to tell you that it’s going to be seventy-five today with a nice breeze. There are maybe going to be a few clouds, but it’ll mostly be a sunny day.” “Thank you, Al Roker.” She leans forward and pats his cheek before quickly kissing him. “Now let me shave in peace, and I’ll let you help pick out which bikini I wear today.”

“You are a kind woman who I very much love.” He waggles his brows, moving them across his forehead before he grabs onto her wrist and kisses her tattoo in the way that she’s grown so fond of over the past few months. It always makes her stomach do some kind of weird twist before everything rights itself. Then he’s ducking his head away and closing the shower door behind him.

“Weirdo,” she mumbles under her breath while continuing to shave. Smooth legs. She’s going to have smooth legs for today.

Along with her invention for drying hair without getting overheated, she’s also got to figure out something for hair removal. She knows there’s shaving, waxing, and laser hair removal or whatever, but there’s just got to be something less time consuming, less painful, and less expensive.

Obviously, her plan needs a lot of work.  

After she finally finishes shaving and rinsing her conditioner out of her hair, she turns the water off and gets out of the shower, patting herself down with the towel she had hanging over the door. She felt like death all day yesterday, the drinks at Killian’s premiere hitting her a little harder than she thought they would, but she feels fine today. Good, even. Okay, she’s really excited to get to spend the day out on the ocean with Killian and his family.

Six months ago, that thought would have terrified her, but now, she honestly can’t think of a better way to spend the day. She’s really grown to like getting to go out on the Jolly (even if she does still think that Killian is absolutely ridiculous in naming his boat that) and letting the salt water of the ocean get in her eyes no matter what she does to shield herself from it. Seriously, her sunglasses do nothing for her out there.

She loves it.

Her suitcase is open on the floor of the bathroom, having never moved from when she dragged it upstairs on Friday, and at the top of all of her clothes is the bright coral bikini that Ruby made her pack. It’s pretty much nothing, and it figures that Killian would pick it out. She should have just known. He’s a man after all. And she did tell him he could pick it out.

She’s totally going to get him to wear the blue trunks he has the hug his thighs and ass really tightly when they get wet.

What’s fair is fair after all.

“Babe,” she calls out after she’s changed, throwing on her jean shorts and tank top and braiding her hair while it dries. He doesn’t call back, so she leaves the bathroom, calling for him until she figures that he’s downstairs and can’t hear her. “KJ,” she says as she bounds down the stairs and runs into the kitchen, hearing his speaker playing music and following it, “if I have to wear the skimpy orange one than you have to wear the blue ones. It shows off your ass, and I – oh.”

Standing in the kitchen is Killian’s entire family, all of them staring at her with different amused expressions littering their faces. She definitely should just never assume that she and Killian are home alone. Like, ever. She just said something about his ass. In front of his family.

At least she’s wearing clothes and not showing off her actual ass. That’s already happened once. She at least had a Christmas sweater on…that might have made it worse. That definitely made it worse.

“Oh my God, you’re Emma,” Anna calls out, practically scrambling off of her stool until she’s attacked with a hug by Anna, her arms so tight around her that she can’t breathe for a second. Seriously. She can’t breathe. “I’m so excited to meet you.”

“I’m excited to meet you too,” she laughs, looking over Anna’s shoulder to see Killian shrugging from where he’s standing next to the fridge, a cooler on the counter next to him. “I kind of thought it was never going to happen.”

“I know,” Anna squeals, releasing Emma from her hug only to place her hands on Emma’s shoulder where she intently stares at her. Like, really stares. It’s kind of weird and a little bit intense. “You’re just as pretty in person as you are in the pictures.”

“Um thanks?” she laughs, feeling the blush rise on her cheeks. “You are too.”

“Oi, Anna,” Liam calls out while he slathers Aiden down in what she assumed is his sunscreen, “leave the girl alone. I know for a fact that she doesn’t like to be ambushed in this kitchen.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Killian teases, winking at her from across the room. He’s right. She doesn’t mind when it’s him. It’s the other people that she doesn’t like. Well, she likes them, but she doesn’t like them scaring the shit out of her in the kitchen. “Just yesterday – ”

“Nope,” Kris starts, holding his hand up. “I love you all, but I am not listening to this. I’m Kris, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too.” She gives him a small wave before walking across the room, hugging Elsa and squeezing Aiden’s hand along the way, until she’s standing next to Killian and pressing up on her toes so she can whisper in his ear. “Why didn’t you tell me your family was here?”

“They’re early,” he sighs, his breath hot against her skin, and it doesn’t help with how keyed up she is despite telling Killian no to sex earlier. She was serious about wanting to get her legs shaved. “Because I’d really like to hear all about how you think my arse looks in the blue trunks, and I’d like to see you in the coral bikini.”

“You should have left them outside then.”

“Liam has a key.”

She rolls her eyes. “Good point.” She falls back on her feet and turns to everyone else. “So you guys ready to go?”

-/-

“Hot damn,” Elsa whistles as Emma takes her shirt off once Killian has the boat settled out on the water at a nice resting place. “You have me reconsidering my theory that I really don’t need to be working out.”

“Oh God,” she groans, crossing her arms over her chest to try to make herself smaller. She’s proud of her body and knows Elsa’s just being nice, but it doesn’t mean she’s the biggest fan of everyone looking at her. And everyone is definitely looking at her. Can’t a large bird fly by or something to distract everyone? Maybe a shark swimming by would be good too. “You look great. Seriously. I have a very small social life and a boyfriend who lives nowhere near me. It’s either eat or go to the gym.”

“I like to go to the gym so that I can eat,” Anna adds in as she grabs a beer out of the cooler. “I bake far too much not to, and I’m on my feet most of the time so it helps. But yeah, Elsa is right. Hot damn.” She shakes her head back and forth, bringing her bottom lip between her teeth and pulling her sunglasses down to cover her eyes. She doesn’t even know what to say back to that, but as she’s learned in the past hour, Anna will fill in any awkward gaps. “How does the long-distance thing work? I mean, I’m pretty sure Kris and I have never spent more than a week apart, and you guys basically spend…all of your time apart.”

“Anna,” Elsa sighs, shooting her a sympathetic glance, “I’m sure Emma and Killian don’t really want to talk about that.”

She doesn’t. It’s really damn hard, and all she wants to do today is enjoy being here. She wants to enjoy today and the way the sun is beating down on her skin while she gets a tan drinking beer and spending the day with Killian. She can’t think about what it’s like having to go home because it hurts too damn much sometimes.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’m just curious.” “You’re curious about a lot of things, babe,” Kris adds in, “which is great. It’s what makes you so wonderful and one of the reasons why I love you.”

“You’re sweet.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Killian begins, moving out of the shielded area where he’s been doing whatever technical thing he does when they’re anchored. She’s not really sure. She hasn’t gotten the chance to actually learn a lot about boating. “Why is it that I am mercilessly teased when I so much as tell Emma that she looks nice today, but you all can be cheesy as hell?”

“Because you’re the youngest,” nearly every person on the boat yells in one way or another.

“And I will get gray hair after every single one of you,” he huffs, plopping down on the seat next to her so that his shorts pull up his thighs as his muscles flex. “Bloody arseholes.”

“Poor baby,” she mock sighs, not even able to hide the smile that’s tugging on her lips as she runs her hands through his hair. “Are the big kids on the playground teasing you?”

He rolls his eyes, before he’s pulling his sunglasses down over his eyes leaning over her and grabbing her water bottle before he takes a sip. “I am going to kick you all off of this damn boat except for the sleeping baby down below.”

“How are you going to do that little  brother? I think you’ll probably be the first person in the water.”

“Shove off.”

“Play nice,” she laughs, realizing that there’s actually some tension in Killian’s jaw and that he’s holding onto her knee a little too tightly. She’s not sure when exactly he actually got frustrated, but he is. “You okay, KJ?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, even as she sees his jaw tick again, the set as straight as she’s ever seen, “I’m fine, sweetheart.”

She studies him for a minute, wishing that he didn’t have his sunglasses on at this exact moment so she could see the blue in his eyes. They’d probably look really nice with the ocean all around them. “Okay, so I was thinking…” she begins to distract him, wrapping her arm around his waist and sliding her hand under the hem of the button down he still hasn’t taken off. He has rolled the sleeves up, which is hotter than it has any right to be, but he hasn’t taken it off. “I was thinking that we play some music, eat our lunch, and then we get into the water. But, like, just for a little while because I’m still not entirely convinced that I’m not going to get a limb eaten by a shark.”

“That is not going to happen.”

“It could. You never know. I could also get stung by a jellyfish, attacked by a dolphin, and I hear whales aren’t necessarily friendly. Then again, we are invading their home, and I feel like maybe we deserve it.”

“So when Liam is having to pee on your leg because you’ve been stung by a jellyfish, you want me to tell you that you deserved it?”

“Why the bloody hell am I the one peeing on her leg?” Liam laughs, his cheeks already tinted in red from the sun. “I mean, no offense, love, I just feel like we don’t have the type of relationship where I can pee on your leg and we come back from that.”

“This is true. It’s going to have to be you, babe. Or Elsa and Anna.”

“Wait. You just met Anna today. That’s not a great first impression. Also, what makes you think we can come back from that, Swan?”

“I’d do it,” Anna adds in.

“Me too.”

“Women aren’t hung up on quite the same things as you guys are,” Elsa sighs, standing up from her seat and stretching her arms. “You’ve got to do what you’ve got to do.”

“I’m honestly just offended that my own boyfriend won’t pee on my leg to help my jellyfish sting.”

“Oh my God,” Killian groans, reaching up and running his hand through his hair, “this has gotten ridiculous. Darling, if I need to pee on your leg, I will.”

She pats his stomach. “That’s all I ask.”

The day passes slowly, nearly everything happening leisurely. Anna talks more than anyone she’s ever met, and it’s so damn entertaining that she absolutely hates that she hasn’t gotten to know her before. The water stays calm, and no one else seems to pass them, so Killian lets the music play loudly after Liam gets Aiden from below deck. They have him in the smallest of life jackets, the name Jones monogrammed against the back, and for a brief moment, she has this want deep in her belly for her to have something like that one day too. She doesn’t let it last long, though. She can’t. It’s a little too overwhelming for her today, and she wants the lightness of the day to continue.

While everyone else moves around, the bow becoming a bit too small for them, she leans back on the cushions, letting the sun lull her into a sense of comfort, making her sleepy while Killian stretches out on his stomach beside her, head rested on his forearms. She twists over onto her stomach as well, ignoring the moment that her skin hits metal, until she can run her fingers over Killian’s back, tracing the muscles there without bothering to look. She’s got the ocean stretched out in front of her. She can look at Killian’s back anytime.

She knows the dips and curves of it well enough anyhow.

“Have you applied lotion recently?”

Killian twists his head to the side and opens his uncovered eyes, the blue somehow even better than the blue of the ocean. Something seems genetically unfair there, but she’s not going to complain when she gets to benefit from it. “About an hour ago. You?”

“Same. Just don’t want you getting a sunburn or cancer or something.”

“Thanks, love.” He leans forward and quickly slants his lips over hers before moving to rest his hands on his forearms again. “What’s everyone else doing?”

“I believe they’re all eating in the shade.”

“You’re not even looking. How do you know that?”

“Wait for it,” she laughs, digging her nail into his back until he lets out a guttural groan that shoots straight to her core.

“I’m waiting to get to take you back home. I don’t know what else I’m supposed to be waiting for.”

“Jones,” Anna shrieks, immediately running over to them until she’s standing above them with an empty bag, “where the hell are my salt and vinegar chips?”

“Emma ate them all yesterday.”

“Hey,” she gasps, slapping his back, “why are you going to just sell me out like that?”

“Because you were about to do the same to me.”

“I was not.”

“You so were.”

“Who cares? I just want the chips,” Anna whines, plopping down next to them. “There’s only crumbs in here.”

“I’ll send you, like, a million bags of chips when we get back,” she promises Anna, kissing in between Killian’s shoulder blades before they both sit up. “I may have eaten them all when I was hungover yesterday.”

“You’re lucky I like you. I don’t play about my chips.”

“You could always just throw her to the sharks if you’re really mad at her,” Killian teases, and she immediately reaches over to slap his back again. Maybe she shouldn’t be so playfully violent…that’s probably not the best trait. But he also just said Anna could sacrifice her to, you know, die. “Bloody hell, you know I don’t mean that.”

“Yeah, he’d be lost without you, lass,” Liam shouts from across the boat, and she can feel her entire stomach rumble with laughter as all of Killian’s family begins to tease him.

He huffs behind her until his chin rests on her shoulder, nuzzling into her skin, his scruff prickling against her until gooseflesh rises over her arms and her legs. She leans back into his touch while his arms wrap around her waist, fingers splaying across her bare stomach.

It feels damn good.

“I love you, KJ,” she whispers, kissing his cheek when she can practically feel his irritation as his family continues to talk.

“I love you too, darling,” he says softly before yelling out, “and I hate all of you except for Aiden and possibly Kris. I don’t know. It depends on the hour.”

-/-

“Oooh, I love this song,” she gasps as she turns the radio’s volume up and lets the sounds of Hozier’s voice fill Killian’s car while he drives them back to his house.

She’s exhausted, the sun having drained out all of the energy out of her as they day stretched out into night, but she’s getting little bursts of energy as she scrolls through her phone. She didn’t have any signal all day, so she’s catching up on everything she missed online before she gets into the massive amount of texts that are still popping in. Ruby must be drunk texting. It happens all the time, and then she gets strings of every thought that Ruby has ever had. Usually there’s some interesting things in there, but it can wait for right now.

When Killian pulls into the garage, she leaves her phone in her bag, letting it fall with all of her junk, as she helps him carry the cooler inside. It’s still got a bunch of drinks inside, so it’s heavy as hell and her arms are feeling weak by the time they get it into kitchen. She really is tired.

“You’ve burned on your cheeks, love,” Killian sighs, walking over to her and swiping his thumbs across her cheeks, his thumbs rough against the skin. “I can also see more freckles.”

“Really? Because I applied lotion about ten different times. I felt like that was all I did.”

“It’s because you’re so fair.”

“Ugh, I know. I’ve known that my entire life.” She leans her cheek into, letting her eyes flutter closed. “I’m going to go shower. You want to join me?”

“Why is that even a question?”

“It was rhetorical.”

She’s in no way a fan of shower sex. There are too many accidents that can happen even with Killian’s stone shower, but that doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy getting to take a relaxing shower that’s full of teasing with Killian as she arranges suds over his beard much to his annoyance. Maybe she really is deliriously tired or maybe it was just a good day. She doesn’t know and she doesn’t care as she stumbles out of the shower with Killian until they fall into bed and absolutely defeat the purpose of them getting clean.

It’s totally worth it as Killian’s lips move over her nipples, teasing her and making her skin tingle in a way that the sun never could, and it’s even more worth it as he continues to move against her, working her up while working his way down her body.

Yeah, definitely worth it.

Afterward, when she’s sated and there’s a pink on her cheeks that has nothing to do with her sunburn, she crawls out of bed, much to Killian’s protest as his hand reaches for her, fingers grazing the skin of her inner thigh. She’s kind of cold, the air conditioning in his house not helping the chill that’s coming from her skin, she so she pulls on some leggings and a t-shirt before brushing through her tangled, still damp hair. It’s an absolute mess, and she really can’t leave it like this or she’ll have to shave her head.

That would be tragic.

“Babe?” she calls out, twisting a towel around her hair to dry it.

“Yeah?”

“Do you know where I left my phone?” She walks back into the bedroom where Killian’s stripping the comforter and sheets off. They’re honestly probably damp, and she’s glad that he’s doing that.

“I don’t. Hell, I don’t even know where my phone is.”

She groans, pulling her towel away from her hair and tossing it into his laundry pile. “I’m going to go downstairs and check through my bag for it. I’ll look for yours too while you put those in the dryer.”

He nods as she walks away, quickly running down the stairs and searching through the living room for her bag only to find nothing. She goes through the entryway and the kitchen before she decides to check Killian’s car. Sure enough, it’s sitting on the floorboard with Killian’s sitting on the center console, and she grabs them both before heading inside and settling down onto the couch in the living room.

She’s got notifications filling her screen behind the time telling her that it’s far past midnight. Where the hell did today go?

Ruby: Sunday fun day.

Ruby: Seriously. I’ve had a lot of mimosas. By myself because Marg is boring and pregnant and David is not drinking in solidarity.

Ruby: It’s times like these when I miss you. And when I realize I need more friends.

Ruby: OMG. We have to try the new bakery down the street from the office. I meant to tell you earlier, but I forgot.

David: Can you return my call?

“What call?” she mumbles to herself only to continue to scroll through the messages, thankful that she’s sitting down for what she reads next.

David: Ems, Mary Margaret is in labor.

David: We’re waiting at the hospital right now.

Ruby: Holy shit, Marg is having Brody right now.

Ruby: She’s freaking out because she’s early. I’m freaking out because I’ve had far too much to drink today.

David: Everything is fine. I don’t know why you’re not near your phone, but don’t freak out when you get these messages, okay? MM and the baby are fine.

If her heart could beat out of her chest with her still alive, that’s exactly what would be happening right now. She can’t breathe. There’s something lodged in her throat that’s stopping her from breathing. Mary Margaret can’t be having her baby. That’s not supposed to happen for three more weeks. That’s why she let herself come out here for four days and why Killian was going to come to her the next few weekends. She is supposed to be at the hospital with Mary Margaret. They had a whole plan. She was supposed to be with them. She was going to watch Leo.

Oh shit. Who’s watching Leo? Ruby’s drunk. Ruby can’t watch Leo.

Quickly, she presses David’s contact name and listens to the rings, just waiting for him to answer. “Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. You have to pick up the phone.”

“Hello?”

“David, oh my God. What’s happening? Is Mary Margaret okay? Is the baby okay? Are you okay? Is someone watching Leo? Oh shit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I missed your calls and your texts and oh my God.”

“Emma, breathe,” David calmly says into the phone, which only really makes her breathe more heavily. “Everything is fine. The doctors say Mary Margaret and Brody are both fine, that he’ll be okay when he’s born from what they can tell. She’s not too early or anything. She’s barely early at all. And Leo is at home with a sitter.”

“I was supposed to be his sitter. I was supposed to be with him.”

“It’s okay. You couldn’t have known she’d be early.” “But I should be there.” She gets up from the couch, already walking upstairs planning on packing her bags to go home. “I’m going to go back my bag right now and change my flight. How long until she delivers do you think?”

“Emma, that’s ridiculous. You can’t get a flight out of there right now. It’s nearly three in the morning here.”

“I’ve got to go,” she tells him, hanging up the phone as her mind runs all over the place as she tries to calculate how long it’ll take to get there. There shouldn’t be any traffic, but she needs a flight. How much is it going to cost her to change to another flight?

In the back of her mind, she knows that she’s being crazy, that it doesn’t matter if she leaves right now or in the morning because there’s no way in hell that she’s going to make it in time for Brody to be born or to watch Leo when they’re already at the hospital. But she’s supposed to be there. This is her family, whether it’s blood or not, and she’s supposed to be there for the big things like this. She starts throwing all of her clothes back into her suitcase, not caring that they’ll get wrinkled, and is zipping up her bag when she hears Killian’s voice.

“Swan, what are you doing?”

She looks up at him as she zips her suitcase. She looks at the way that he’s got his arms crossed over his chest, his muscles bulging a bit with the position, and she looks at the way that his sweatpants hang low on his hips, giving her a glimpse of the trail of hair and the v-shaped muscles that she’s grown so fond of. No, that she loves. She loves him and the way that his eyes are always so beautiful, loves the way that his hair flops over his forehead no matter how he styles it, and she loves the way that he’s always got a smile on his face when he’s looking at her. She loves how he makes her laugh, how he listens to her ramble about the stupidest things, and how he listens, actually listens, to her when she’s telling him something she’s not truly comfortable sharing.

She loves him.

But right now she is absolutely furious at him.

No, right now she’s furious with herself.

She has no idea who she’s furious with.

“I’m going home,” she mumbles, standing from the ground and slipping sandals onto her feet.

“I’m sorry. You’re what now?”

“I’m going home. I have to go home.”

“Emma,” he cautions, coming over to her and placing his hands on her shoulder, squeezing enough that she stops and can see the confusion in his eyes, the uneasiness in his smile, “what are you talking about? Your flight is at noon tomorrow. It’s midnight. We have hours left.”

“I need to go. Mary Margaret is having her baby, and I’m supposed to be there.”

“She’ll understand if you’re not.”

“No,” she groans, backing away from his touch while her mind begins to spiral. She needs it to stop, but she can’t. She can’t make it stop no matter how hard she tries. She’s trying. She really is. “I need to go. I cannot miss this. That is my family, and I’ve missed so much lately. I’ve missed all of these major moments, not to mention all of the little ones, and I need to go home. I don’t need to fucking be here.”

She can feel Killian’s eyes on her, but she has to look away. She can’t look at him, can’t look at the blue or the way that his lips aren’t pressed into a smile. “Darling, there aren’t going to be any flights. It’s late.”

“I still have to go home.”

“Swan, your flight is tomorrow. You’ll be there tomorrow.”

“At, like, midnight. I’ll be home at midnight. I’m going to miss everything.” “You’ll be there after he’s born, after they’ve had time with him.”

“You don’t get it,” she cries, wiping down the tears that are falling on her cheeks while she makes a feeble attempt to regulate her breathing. She stopped breathing, didn’t she? How did she stop breathing? “I’m missing it, Killian. My best friend having a baby, and nothing will change whether I’m there or not, but it’s not just this. It’s everything. If we keep doing this, how much of my life am I going to miss? How much are you going to miss because we’re always on a damn plane or all the way across the country?”

“Emma – ” he cautions, stepping closer to her only for her to back away, to take a step back for every step that he takes forward.

One step forward. Two steps back.

“No, I’m right. We haven’t talked about it, but I’m right.”

“So what do you want?” Killian sighs, an edge of anger seeping into his voice that she hears over the pounding in her head and the thump of her heart against her ribcage.

“I want to go home.”

“That’s not exactly an option right now. So why don’t we just go downstairs and watch TV? You’ll get on your plane in the morning, and you’ll be there as fast as you can.”

“I can’t do this,” she sighs, feeling her breath even out as her chest stops heaving and her face cools down. Her entire body cools down really, the frantic episode that she just went through stopping while she stares down Killian and stares down what her entire future is going to look like. “I can’t do this.” “What can’t you do?”

“This,” she says calmly, pointing between the two of them. “I can’t live with this actual, physical distance between us. I can’t…oh God,” she sobs, covering her mouth with her hands while tears well in her eyes again, everything that she’s been holding down for months  coming to the surface. “I can’t do this.”

“Emma,” he pleads, and she has to ignore the brokenness in his voice. “Love, no, don’t go down that road. We’re fine. Please don’t do this.”

[lokikingofasgardslover713]

Covetous Thunder: Ch.2

Aesthetic Courtesy of beautiful @prettybubblesintheair!

Masterlist

Covetous Thunder Masterlist : DARK!THOR

I’m not sure who many chapters this will end up being!

My titles suck guys! Sorry I’m so crappy at naming my fan fics!

Thor Odinson x Plus!Size Reader

Words: +2,000

Warnings: THIS IS A DARK THOR FIC! NON-CON DUB-CON LANGUAGE VIOLENCE Thor BEING AN ASSHOLE! This went way over what I intended so I will post it in parts! Putting under the cut as always! Oh this is just torturous! Infinity War Spoilers? Do we still have to put that?

Waking up shouldn’t be this hard, Y/N thought, relishing in how comfortable the bed was stretching out slightly and filling a warm body next to her and an arm holding her tight. This wasn’t right, events from the night before registering and looking down to see what she wore. These weren't her clothes, a tank top and very revealing panties while a brawny naked arm looped under her breast to hold her tight.  The owner of the arm moving behind Y/N to send a jolt of panic through her body & heart hammering.

Pushing out of the vise like grip that she was in, having a filling that she was allowed free. Fumbling around with the covers to stumble into the floor like a drunk but able to steady herself looking to the one who had been in bed with her.

“You,” was all Y/N could blurt out looking at the man who had introduced himself as Thor just the night before, in her house, which he broke into.

“Holy shit! Fuck me,” Y/N breathed out the instant she recognized him, watching the god sit up wearing nothing & proud of it.

Y/N stomach twisted in knots, thinking back to the previous night. Had Thor, an Avenger, raped her? Shouldn’t she be sore, because he didn't look like he would be a little guy by no means, guts twisting tighter & head beginning to spin. Bathroom, now, Y/N head screamed spotting what looked to be one taking leaps towards it to fall hard to her knees at the toilet in time.

“Easy dove,” Y/N heard next to her, nothing to empty so dry heaving it seemed to be then, looking sickly over to Thor who knelt with her pushing hair away from her face.

“You... you raped me! Abd.. abduct… you took me against my will,” Y/N blurted, sitting back on her heels to pull away from Thor, heart threatening to beat out her chest & sure he had to hear it.

“No, actually we didn't get that far. We've been asleep all day. Before I brought you home you passed out on me, but I did change your clothes because they reeked of that bar,” Thor admitted calmly, raking his eyes over her large figure lingering on Y/N’ lips as her tongue darted out to wet them.

Looking at Thor, not sure what to say, the brawny god had undressed her & then put clean ones back on her, but, wait, where did the clothes come from was this something he normally did to women he kidnapped?

“Where did you get the clothes,” Y/N numb brain thought to ask, continuing to stare at him, taking in a deep breath that made her chest heave, exposing the tops of her breast & watching the gods eyes become blown with lust. Shit.

“I bought them, or actually the woman that helps keep an eye on the house when I'm not here got them for me. I thought of leaving you naked but that was too much of a temptation,” Thor spoke, his voice on the edge of darkness but realized how uneasy she was becoming & didn’t want to risk having to fight with Y/N, not now anyway.

“Oh! You’re such a gentleman,” Y/N smirked hatefully, trying to get to wobbly feet, but had it not been for Thor catching her arm, Y/N felt sure she would have fallen into the toilet.

“Let’s go to the kitchen, you must be hungry,” Thor spoke gently, making sure to keep a hand on Y/N while leading her through the bedroom to the hallway.

Y/N grew silent, taking in the short hallway that Thor led her down to what she guessed was the kitchen, noting how neat kept it was, but obvious a bachelor lived there alone. Gladly taking the seat at the kitchen island he led her to, not sure how much longer she could stand on shaky legs & taking the help he offered to get seated on the tall bar stool.

Not paying attention to Thor, who by the way still wore no clothes, Y/N began to look over the house. It looked modern, but the inside was modeled after what bits she had seen of Viking architecture. That would probably be about right for the God, who by the way...

“Aren't you supposed to be a good guy,” Y/N voiced the last of her thought not looking back at Thor eyes falling on Stormbreaker next to the open fire place that smoldered.

“Aye, I am,” he spoke from the stove turning to look at Y/N who stared at the fireplace and battle ax.

Turing attention to look back at Thor to realized he now only wore an apron his bare ass in front of her making her look back to the battle ax. The god turning to look her over & noting that she was staring at Stormbreaker.

“I checked after I brought you home, I can still wield Stormbreaker,” he spoke, Y/N turning to hold his gaze & not looking anywhere else except for the large pack of bacon he was opening.

“Shouldn’t you put some clothes on for frying bacon,” Y/N spoke, the god turning with a smirk to throw it into the pan the bacon sizzling loudly.

“Ok. So, you have at that,” Y/N blurted, looking back down the hall to where she had spotted another bath room, laying her hands on the counter, the clink of metal on stone getting her attention away from the fact she had to pee.

Looking down at her left wrist, how the hell did she miss the gold bracelet covered in elegant knot work & what looked to be ancient writing set with a large ruby? Holy shit, that was a big ruby, this thing had to be expensive, & how the hell did it come off? Tugging at it, trying to pull at it in an effort to pull it free & having got Thor’ attention with her desperate pulling.

“The one who placed the cuff on is the only one who can remove it,” Thor admitted to Y/N over his shoulder, hearing her let out a loud huff of air & the cuff clinking on the stone loudly.

“Of course,” Y/N huffed, getting up to head to the bathroom before pissing in the seat.

“Use the one in our room, that one is,” Thor got out but heard cursing, “full of laundry.”

“I'm not your maid so put that out of your mind,” Y/N bit out, stalking to the bathroom that was in the room they had come from, cutting on the light to shut the door & lock it, but really what good was a lock when you had a god that could just break it down.

Turning from the door to look over a massive master bathroom, hurrying for the toilet for the second time that evening & continuing to look around the room. A large walk-in shower with a seat, that looked like a steam shower, a claw foot tub that was set up next to a massive set of French doors but not sure what they over looked at the moment. Finishing up, Y/N washed her hands to step over to the tub, looking out at the view of a beautiful mountain range, snow clouds hanging over head. Going closer to press her hands against the glass & filling the cold that was outside.

She would have run, had she shoes, warmer clothes, but what good would it do? Thor could probably take two strides & jerk her up like he did the other night. The other night, why was he doing this, what was wrong with him, had fame went to his head, & where were they that it looked as if it was going to snow this early into fall?

“Beautiful view isn’t it,” came a low, gravelly voice from the door way, jolting Y/N out of her thoughts to look back at Thor who thankfully wore a t-shirt & jeans when he entered the room, stepping close to her.

“Um, what? Yes it is,” Y/N spoke breathlessly over her shoulder, looking to the floor needing a break from the intensity of his gaze, the god getting closer to pin her to the doors.

Y/N braced palms against the glass, looking past her reflection out to the trees while scorching hands pushed up the hem of the shirt she wore, scooting thin panties lower to grip to plump hips. The top of the panties stopping bellow her woman hood to expose her to the cold glass. Shivering when he pressed his overheated body into hers & her bare mound contacting the cool glass. Closing her eyes when he ground his ever-growing bulge into her back side, taking in a shaky breath & turning away when his head dipped to her neck to kiss the soft flesh.

“Don’t try to leave, you will get lost, as well as the cuff want allow you to get to far away from the perimeter of the house unless I am with you,” he spoke quietly into her ear, an edge to his voice that pleaded with her not to test the cuff.

“Do you understand,” he questioned, in her ear, meeting her gaze in the reflection of the glass, hands inching further south, gripping gently at her slit, teasing along the inside of her thighs.

“Yes,” Y/N finally croaked out, Thor stopping at her answer, pulling her panties back up, & the tank top hem over them, still pressed to her back but standing straighter, placing one more kiss on her neck as he did.

“Good, the foods ready. Come eat something to keep your strength up,” Thor spoke, but the command was there, squeezing her clothe covered hips & pulling her away with him so that she hadn’t a choice but to lead him out of the bathroom.

This time Y/N took her time walking out of the bathroom, looking the place over, despite the huge bed it barely took up the bedroom that looked to have walk in closets, French doors & a deck of it's own. Shocked Thor allowed her time to walk to the kitchen to take the same seat this time that had a plate sat out for her, & food placed on a large platter before her. Looking over the premade burgers that sat on it topped with bacon & blurted her mind again, which was something she usually didn’t do.

“How…,” Y/N began, hinting to the food that Thor was placing on her plate before he took his place in front of her.

“Seidr, but Midgardians call it…,” Thor began taking his seat Y/N finishing his sentence.

“Magic, but I…,” Y/N began once more lifting the top bun of her burger to look at what was on it.

“Since Hella… Lo… all Aesir have magic,” was all Thor spoke, cutting the conversation short & making it clear to Y/N that she wasn’t to ask anything else about the subject.

Sensing he had made a mistake, Thor looked to Y/N who was pushing the bun down on her burger, staring the meal down, nervously licking her lips & taking her bottom lip in her teeth to worry it before letting it go. Keeping focus on the food & nodding that she understood then reaching out to pick up the burger but not seeming that interested taking a small bite.

“I'm sorry,” Thor spoke, getting her attention, Y/N looking up at him like a kicked puppy but nodding once more to accept the apology, pushing the plate back & getting to her feet.

“Um, I'm going to take a shower, I'm really not that hungry,” Y/N spoke in a small voice that sounded alien to her own ears, looking at the god, sliding from the seat & beginning to take a step back.

“No, sit, & eat,” Thor did order this time, making tears come to Y/N’ eyes, looking like it was all she could do to hold it together.

If you want to be tagged or not let me know!

Tags: @dark-night-sky-99 ​ @prettybubblesintheair ​ @gramaeryebard ​ @reallyheckinggay ​ @jovanna-shewolf ​ @andiyholly ​ @katstablook ​  @nickyl316h ​ @beets1bears1battlestargalactica @slender--spirit @aslandia726 @moonfaery

[paintedrecs]

302, I Love You

[Read on AO3]

It was a beautiful summer morning—mid-70s with a light breeze, ideal weather for soaking up the sun without fear of overheating. If anyone asked, that was why Stiles was sitting on his balcony with a book he hadn’t touched in the last half hour and a mug of coffee he’d been absently sipping from, his gaze fixed on the parking lot several stories below.

Coincidentally, one of his neighbors—Hot Dude From 302, not that it was relevant—had chosen the same morning to wash his stupidly flashy Camaro. Stiles wasn’t watching him. He was sitting on his balcony, which happened to face the back parking lot, and Hot Dude happened to be in his general line of sight. And anyway, if he had been watching him, it was only to document the details of his flagrant lease-breaking activities, in case Stiles decided to file a complaint with their landlord. 

Washing vehicles in their parking lot was explicitly against the rules, along with smoking, loud parties after 11 PM, and leaving trash bags in the hallway for people to potentially trip over, rather than dragging them all the way to the dumpsters—which were also located in their parking area.

If pressed, Stiles might admit that he’d broken the latter two rules once or twice. And that there might be an overstuffed trash bag sitting in the hallway at this very moment—deposited there because the smell had started to bug him, but not enough to motivate him to put on shoes and non-pj pants and make the trek downstairs. But that was more like rule-bending. It wasn’t an egregious violation like the unnecessarily thorough car washing that took place every Saturday, like clockwork.

Obviously this guy wasn’t originally from California, or he’d know how important water conservation was, and how much his utterly unacceptable behavior made everyone else in the building grind their teeth. Beacon Hills was in the middle of a fucking drought. And there 302 was, spraying water not only over the car’s sleek black surface, but over himself, too, making his loose shorts cling to his thighs, his already too-tight white tank top plastering against his chest and abs. 

What was the point of even wearing a shirt to begin with if he was just going to get it soaked through every time, leaving the fabric offensively sheer?

“So you want him to take his shirt off for you,” Stiles's supposed best friend Scott said, kicking his feet up on the railing and crunching through a handful of pretzels.

“Shut up!” Stiles hissed. He instinctively tried to duck down in his lounge chair—as if that would accomplish anything—but 302 didn’t seem to have heard the exchange. He was too busy stretching across the hood, his back to them, the fabric of his wet shorts leaving little to Stiles’s admittedly very active imagination.

“You’re drooling,” Scott said. “This is kinda gross. I thought we were gonna be watching cartoons, not this guy’s ass.”

Stiles spluttered indignantly, then, when Scott motioned at his face, wiped away the possibly-drool from his chin. That happened sometimes when he was tired, okay? He hadn’t had enough of his coffee yet this morning. “I’m judging him,” he insisted. He firmly shut his mouth and twisted it into his most convincingly judgmental face.

“Judging whether you can get into his pants,” Scott said. 

“Judging him for...not knowing how to use his hose,” Stiles countered, scrambling for a reasonable comeback.

Scott was, thankfully, silent for a bit. He popped more pretzels into his mouth and chewed while staring at Stiles meaningfully. Eventually, he concluded, “So you wanna teach him how to use his hose.”

302 suddenly swore loudly from down below, and Stiles jerked in his chair, nearly knocking his coffee—and himself—over. Once he’d made sure his mug and limbs were safe, he leaned forward to see what had happened. 

Point proved, really. 302 had somehow sprayed himself right in the face with the hose, which required a special sort of uncoordinated talent that even Stiles didn’t possess. Scott was right; the guy clearly did need some hose-handling lessons. He was dripping wet, his dark hair flattened, leaving it almost as shiny and black as his car. Even from this distance, Stiles could see the water streaming off the sharp cut off his cheekbones.

Despite all that, the idiot hadn’t shut the hose off —he was just standing there, frozen in place, holding it as water arced into the air, the spray catching the sunlight in a miniature, shimmering rainbow.

He looked absolutely pitiful. Stiles almost felt bad for him. At the same time, though: “You remember that fountain by the library?”

Scott nodded. Of course he did. It’d been major drama when they were starting middle school; the local PTA had campaigned to have it torn out, claiming it was “inappropriate” for a public building to house a lifesize reproduction of The Birth of Venus. The sculptor’s argument—that it was a classic work of art that could be found in multiple books within the library itself—eventually toppled under the ire of parents with too much time on their hands.

Stiles had mourned its loss, taking art classes throughout high school with the vague idea of using his inevitable fame to battle similarly misguided attempts at censorship. As it turned out, he had no artistic skill, and he’d gradually found better channels for his righteous indignation. He was wondering now, though, if his bisexual awakening would’ve happened sooner if Venus had been replaced by something like...Eros. Or by a recreation of the tableau currently spread out below him. He would’ve spent a lot of time studying by that fountain during his teenage years.

“I should take the trash out,” he decided abruptly.

Scott moved his legs so Stiles could clamber over him and back into his studio’s compact living room. “So I should just go home, then?” he called after Stiles.

Stiles was too busy pulling on presentable pants, twisting in front of the mirror, then switching to his tighter jeans, to reply. He was cramming his feet into his shoes when Scott came inside.

“You might as well take this,” Scott said, shaking the now-empty bag of pretzels in front of Stiles’s face. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You don’t have to leave,” Stiles grunted, tying off his shoelaces and grabbing the crinkly bag as he stood. 

“I really think I do,” Scott said. “Good luck. Please don’t text me any details.”

“I’m not going to hit on him,” Stiles grumbled after Scott rudely slammed the door on his way out. He wasn’t. Mostly because his knowledge of 302 boiled down to a few key facts:

     -  Overcompensating (that car, c’mon)      -  Environmentally unfriendly      -  Antisocial (Stiles had never seen him interacting with anyone, and the majority of their neighbors were annoyingly friendly; most of them had shown up, uninvited, to his last after-11 PM party. Which Stiles had definitely not thrown hoping that 302 would be among the attendees. He’d only posted the sign by the mailboxes as a courtesy notice, not an invitation. Technically.)

Perhaps most importantly, according to those same mailboxes, 302 was living with someone named “Laura Hale.” It was the only name listed, and although Stiles had snooped on the various packages that were too big to fit inside, he hadn’t managed to uncover any additional details. He had lurked in the entryway for long enough to see a beautiful dark-haired woman collect one of those boxes, which had smashed the final hope he’d deny he’d been harboring.

Expecting a guy like that to not have an equally hot girlfriend to ferry around in his douchey car? Dream on, Stiles.

He attempted to crumple the pretzel remnants—something he’d been planning to eat himself, thanks a lot Scott—into the trash bag, which only resulted in squeezing out a mess of banana peels and coffee-stained paper towels. Okay, maybe that rule existed for a reason, too. He sighed, wiped his hands off on his jeans, and heaved the bag up, beginning the trudge down to the garbage bins.

Once outside the building, Stiles stepped gingerly over the sudsy water snaking along the pavement, thumped the dumpster lid loudly enough to announce his presence, then oh-so-casually headed over to check on his Jeep, which was parked two spaces away from 302’s current location. Their building had unassigned spots—too few for the number of residents, leaving the rest to park out on the street. That created a headache sometimes, but it’d allowed Stiles—after some careful planning and light bribery—to set up this accidental meeting.

302 glanced at Stiles when he passed by, then fumbled his hose, spraying himself again.

“Wow,” Stiles said, attempting to hop out of the way, grimacing when that movement sent him splashing right into a puddle. “You have a serious problem, dude.”

“Sorry,” 302 said, in a soft voice that Stiles could barely hear over the water’s relentlessly wasteful flow. Now that Stiles was closer to his elusive neighbor, he was able to see the red shading those marble-carved cheekbones; he’d probably been out in the sun for too long, considering himself too manly to reapply sunscreen.

The thought brought back a sudden flash of memory: an afternoon in late summer; a sprinkler hissing in circles as Stiles jumped through the cool, stinging spray; a dark-haired boy laughing, the silver glint of his braces catching the sun as Stiles tried to flick water in his direction, convincing him to join the fun. Stiles’s mom had come outside then, tsking at him in feigned disapproval, then calling them both over for a fresh coating of smelly, sticky sunscreen that Stiles would immediately do his best to wash off.

Scott, Stiles thought, then: No. He hadn’t moved to Beacon Hills yet. That was when Stiles was younger, when his best friend was a quiet boy who’d always said—despite Stiles’s constant attempts to get him into trouble—that the Stilinski household was a lot more peaceful than his. He’d liked Stiles’s mom’s cookies, his dad’s stories about work, and—Stiles liked to think, anyway—Stiles’s magnetic personality.

“Derek,” he said aloud, and 302 jumped.

“What?”

“Sorry, I was just—” Stiles shook his head. Why was he thinking of Derek now? The guy had moved away ages ago. They’d exchanged letters for a few months, then Scott had moved to town, Stiles had started spending a lot more time noticing girls, and the letters had stopped.

302 was still staring at him, his multicolored—mostly green?—eyes wide. Looking at him for too long was making Stiles feel weird, like there was something pressing at the back of his mind that he couldn’t quite grasp.

“You should be wearing sunglasses,” Stiles said stupidly. The bright light reflecting off the pavement was making him squint, and he’d been out there for less than five minutes.

“You’re not,” 302 said.

“My eyes are darker; more melanin means better protection,” Stiles automatically countered—it was an argument he’d often used as a know-it-all kid who didn’t want to stop playing outside—then tried to restrain his wince. He was being obvious. You didn’t start out a totally innocent conversation with a hot stranger by talking about his eye color, for fuck’s sake.

But 302 smiled. He had front teeth that were a little too big for his mouth—something that he might’ve been teased about when he was younger, because he immediately ducked his head and rolled his lips together, pressing them into a line that didn’t hide the equally endearing dimples in his cheeks.

Damn, Stiles thought. The guy was supposed to be kind of a dick. Not...this. Maybe he avoided hanging out with over-friendly neighbors because he was shy? Stiles had to mentally readjust his entire battle plan, which had mostly involved snarky commentary and a few clever innuendoes designed to test whether he really was taken.

“I was gonna ask you to wash my car,” Stiles said, plunging after his first thought, but unable to resist a slight dig. “While you’re wasting all that water.”

“Oh,” 302 said. His smile dimmed; even the curve of the hose seemed dejected suddenly. He released his tight grip on the spray attachment, the noise in the parking lot fading to the hum of bees in the hedge next door and the metallic creak of swings from the playground down the street. “I guess I could. It’s the Jeep, right?”

“Um,” Stiles said. “Yes. How did you know that?”

302 slid his hand down the hose, like he was planning to start rolling it back up, even though there were still suds on the Camaro’s roof. “It looks like your mom’s,” he said. “I remember you always used to say you wanted a car just like it, once you found out ordinary citizens couldn’t get Batmobiles.”

“How the—” Stiles stared at him. This was new. He hadn’t had a stalker before; at least, not that he’d known.

302 met his gaze for a few seconds, then looked away, his mouth twisting—in disappointment, weirdly, if Stiles was reading that expression correctly. “You don’t remember me, do you.”

“Should I?” Stiles asked. Maybe he’d hooked up with the guy and forgotten him, but that seemed incredibly unlikely. He’d remember a jawline like that. And why the hell would they have spent the night talking about Stiles’s childhood? He didn’t get that personal in relationships until...well, he’d always figured he’d start digging into the really gritty stuff at about the year marker, and no one had ever lasted that long.

“I guess not,” 302 said. “It’s been a long time. Laura said you wouldn’t and that I should get over myself and be the first one to say something. I was trying to work up the nerve, but then, just now, when you...”

He trailed off, so Stiles repeated it. “When I what?”

“When you said my name,” 302 said. “I...didn’t imagine that, did I?”

Stiles looked at him again, like he was seeing him for the first time. That’s what he’d thought this encounter was, but...he traced his gaze over the guy’s inky black hair, drying in the sunlight and beginning to wave slightly at the tips; the delicate curves of his ears, which somehow seemed a little smaller than they should be; the unusual color of his eyes.

“Derek,” Stiles said slowly, pulling that memory back to the forefront, the hazy image of his friend overlaying 302’s features. He had to make significant adjustments for puberty and an apparent explosion of late-blooming attractiveness, but: “Hale. Oh my god. Laura’s your sister. The scary older one you never wanted us to hang out with. How did I not make that connection?”

“It’s a common name,” Derek said. “Not like Stilinski. It was a lot easier for me to connect the dots.” 

“Goddamn,” Stiles said. “Good thing my dad talked me out of joining the force. I would’ve been a shitty detective.”

“I doubt that,” Derek said, as generous as he’d been when they were kids. He had so many of the same mannerisms, now that Stiles was paying attention. “I look a little different than I used to.”

Stiles snorted before he could consider whether that was rude. That brought up a sudden, unsettling thought. “Wait, does that mean I don’t?”

As a kid, Stiles had been 80% eyes and mouth, and always a head shorter than the other boys his age. He’d hit his growth spurt late in high school, then shot up to six feet during college, but if his face was still that recognizable...

Derek was shaking his head. “I told you, I saw your name. A few weeks after we moved in.” He hesitated, then added, “But I think I would’ve recognized you anyway. You’ve changed, but there’s something...”

“Yeah,” Stiles said. He felt it, too. He’d first seen Derek about a month ago—or so he’d thought at the time—and had nearly been bowled over by the degree of instantaneous attraction. It wasn’t just the physical part, although that was undeniable. It was the sense that something about Derek felt right. Familiar, almost. He’d thought stupid things, like maybe soulmates weren’t as outlandish as he’d always assumed. Turned out all it’d meant was that some part of his brain was still connected to those old memories of Derek.

He tried not to let the disappointment wash over him. This was cool, too. It’d be fun to reconnect, to revisit the old times, like: he flushed suddenly, another long-forgotten image drifting out of the past. He touched his lips without thinking, remembering the dry press of Derek’s mouth against his, the brilliant green of his eyes as he pulled back, mouth still parted, looking terrified that Stiles would laugh at him.

“I just...wanted to try that. Before...” Derek had said. Then, before Stiles had any time to react or process it, Derek had revealed that his family was leaving town. He was gone the next week.

The red along Derek’s cheekbones was darkening. So he remembered it, too. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to make you think...” He started to turn away, coiling the hose in abrupt, jerky movements, like he was trying to figure out the fastest way to clear out of there. Just like he’d done after the kiss, dashing off, claiming he had to start packing.

“That last letter you wrote me,” Stiles said. Derek stopped, his back to him, shoulders tensed. “I didn’t reply. I’m sorry. I was a stupid kid; I didn’t know what to say.”

“I never knew if you’d stopped talking to me intentionally,” Derek said. “I tried a couple times, and then I figured if you wanted to get in touch again, you would.”

And Stiles never had. At first, it really had been that he was busy; middle school had seemed like the most exciting and terrifying thing in the entire world, and trying to navigate its treacherous waters while keeping Derek updated had proved too difficult to maintain. Then that third unanswered letter—the last one Derek had written—had arrived. Stiles didn't remember much of it. But he could still see its closing line, a shaky scrawl that looked like it'd been added at the last minute.

I’m sorry I made things weird.

The kiss had made Stiles feel weird, in a way he hadn’t been able to articulate. It’d taken a few more years before he’d really understood why, and by then, Derek was a distant memory. By the looks of it, the reverse hadn’t been true.

“I used to wonder why you did it,” Stiles said.

Derek finished putting the hose back, twisted the water off and removed the nozzle, then finally turned back around. “Why I kissed you? Or why I wrote you that stupid letter?” 

Stiles touched his mouth again, watching as Derek’s gaze followed the movement. Things were a lot different now than they were back then. Odd lingering connection or not, they’d both grown into entirely different people. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t really need an answer to either.”

“So what’s your real question?”

“I liked you back then,” Stiles said. “A lot. I hated that you left me, right when everything started getting really big and confusing. I know you couldn’t help it, but every time I wrote you, it reminded me that you weren’t around anymore.”

Derek’s lips flattened a bit. He nodded, slowly. “So it was easier to let it go.”

“I don’t think it’d ever be easy to let you go,” Stiles said. 

Derek’s mouth parted, his eyes searching Stiles’s.

“My question is,” Stiles said, taking a couple steps forward, then grimacing when that sent his sneaker splashing through one of Derek’s puddles.

“Sorry,” Derek said, but Stiles was already squelching the rest of the way over to him.

“So much for the seductive walk,” he said, close enough now for this to all go horribly wrong.

Derek hesitantly reached out, setting his hands on Stiles’s hips, then tightening his grip when Stiles reacted by leaning closer. “I remember the fountain, too.”

“The—shit, you heard that?”

“You’re pretty loud,” Derek said. “And hard to ignore.”

From most people, that might’ve seemed like an insult. The way Derek was looking at him, though, it felt like one of the nicer compliments Stiles had ever received.

“You weren’t here, though,” Stiles objected. “I remember, because that was the longest letter I wrote you. I think I transcribed half the town hall debate—the part I got to hear before my dad found me and kicked me out.”

“I remember,” Derek repeated, then cleared his throat. “I still have the drawing you sent.”

Stiles paused, his hands halfway up Derek’s chest—thick hair visible through the sheer fabric, as he’d guessed from his earlier vantage point—to his bare shoulders, which he’d been aching to touch for the last hour. The last month, if he was being honest. “Oh, the one of the fountain? God, I can’t believe you kept that. It’s gotta be barely recognizable.” 

“I liked it,” Derek said. “It made me feel like I was there with you.”

It was strange to look into eyes this familiar, belonging to someone Stiles hardly knew anymore. He slipped a finger under the strap of Derek’s still-damp tank top, testing to see if it was as absurdly tight as he’d thought. There really was no point to him wearing this flimsy excuse for a shirt.

“You never asked your question,” Derek said.

“Right,” Stiles said. He had a lot of them, too numerous to delve into now. When Derek decided to move back, had he known Stiles was still around? Why had he returned? Was it for Laura, or was it his decision? And why had he ended up with a wet dream of a car, when he’d always been the practical one in their friendship?

For now, though, only one was pressing enough to ask. “Do you think it’s too late?”

“For what?” Derek asked.

“To try again.”

The first touch of Derek’s lips was hesitant, like it’d been all those years before. It was his answer—but a question, too, begun more than a decade ago.

This time, Stiles knew exactly how to respond.

“Okay,” he said after a while, setting a hand back on Derek’s chest but letting him chase his mouth for a few more lip-tingling moments. “You’ve gotten a lot better at that.”

“I should hope so,” Derek said, with a throaty chuckle that made Stiles feel warm all over.

“We should move out of the parking lot,” Stiles said reluctantly. “I’m not the only one with a balcony. And you should probably do something with your ridiculous car before anyone needs to back out of their spaces.”

“Not my car,” Derek said. He tangled his fingers with Stiles’s, dropping a very distracting kiss onto the tip of his nose.

“Not your—yes it is. You wash it every damn weekend.”

“It’s Laura’s,” Derek said. “I have a Camry. You probably haven’t seen it; Laura makes me park it out on the street so hers doesn’t get scratched.”

Stiles stared at him, processing that information. “Let me guess; she also makes you wash it for her?”

“It’s a trade-off,” Derek said. “She hates handling all the grocery shopping and apartment cleaning when I’m on shift, but she said she’d stop complaining if I spent an hour out here every Saturday. She claimed she was the one doing me a favor, but I haven’t been so sure about that.”

“She might’ve been right,” Stiles said, wondering if everyone in the building—everyone but Derek—had been watching this whole thing unfold. “Wait, what kind of shifts do you work? Are you at the hospital?”

Derek cleared his throat again, looking oddly embarrassed. “No, I uh. I’m at the station. I work with your dad now. He makes a pretty great Sheriff.”

“Deputy Derek Hale,” Stiles said. That part really shouldn’t have come as a surprise; Derek had always been the one hanging off stories from the station. While Stiles snooped around in his dad’s files, dreaming up exciting new criminal-catching methods, Derek had stayed by the then-deputy’s side, asking boring questions about procedure and policy. “For fuck’s sake. I can’t believe my dad didn’t tell me you were back.”

Derek’s cheekbones took on that pink tint again. “He said he, uh. Doesn’t like getting involved in your romantic life anymore. But that if we ever did figure things out, he wanted us to both come over for dinner.”

“Well,” Stiles said. “Then I guess we should get back to figuring things out.”

It took 207’s extended, irritable honking to finally move them out of the parking lot. Stiles was the one who ended up with a sunburn, as it turned out. But he didn’t mind that much, not when it came with Derek in his apartment, smoothing aloe vera onto the back of his neck, and then playfully kissing his nose again before smearing the gel along his lips’ path.

The next Saturday morning, the parking lot was quiet and still. Stiles was out on his balcony, a mug of coffee in one hand, the other resting lightly on Derek’s knee.

“Derek, look,” he hissed, nodding at the silver SUV that 401 was attempting to very quietly unlock. Rookie move; should’ve parked on the street if she didn’t want to be seen. “I bet you anything she’s sneaking off to the casino again before her husband wakes up.”

Derek didn't lift his eyes from the thick book he was reading—some boring examination of the history of European conflicts, last Stiles had checked. He hummed in the back of his throat, though, then rested his hand on top of Stiles’s to show he was listening. 

Once 401 was safely on her way, revving the engine triumphantly as soon as she'd made it halfway down the block, Stiles drained the rest of his coffee. “Alright, I'm gonna take a shower.”

“Okay,” Derek said. He moved his hand and flipped a page of his book, still frowning in concentration at the dense, tiny text.

“You should join me,” Stiles said. “In fact, I think we should make that a habit for a while. It's about time you started making some serious strides in water conservation.”

“Honestly, Stiles,” Derek sighed.

But he set the book down.

[sister-location]

hi! i know you probably have a lot of asks right now, but i wanted to get some clarification on something. what exactly do we know about remnant? do we know anything except that it's what the scuper was designed for?

Yes and No!

The secret ‘insanity’ ending is the only time we ever see Remnant being mentioned. But we need to keep in mind that like with everything else in FNAF, being directly told about something is just meant to be a hint to look for context clues!

Longer post under the cut because there’s a lot to be said here and it’s image heavy because I just woke up!

edit: I realized partway through this that gameverse Afton might be injecting himself with whats essentially robo-ghost blood and it’s really fucking funny to me, sorry for obviously laughing about this for the entire post.

First up we see the SCUPer, A B C and D functions, and the Afton Robotics, LLC trademark. Let’s go over them!

NAME: S.caleable C.reation of U.lterior P.resence

Ok so you can see that either Afton or Scott are really weird with names, because this.. is honestly weird word choices, but they sure made it fit the ice cream theme. Rammed it right in there. But let me work these words down;T.his M.achine M.akey G.hosties. Call it Thingmmagig.

Scalable Creation refers to being able to generate more [ghosts] and likely also be able to remove (or relocate..?) [ghosts]. Ulterior Presence is.. actually a little funny, because it means ‘Secret Secret Ghosts’ kind of. And honestly these ghosts aren’t really hidden, unless you count that no one was sure if the Funtime animatronics were haunted or not. Maybe in-universe, the fact these robots were haunted at all was a huge secret and only like, 4 people knew. Maybe to everyone else, blood and mucus coming out of robots is normal. Whatever.

BLUEPRINT PART A: EXCAVATING ARM

No bonus data given, this is just the weird… partial cylinder. I’m not sure why A wasn’t put on the actual folding arm structure. Maybe the A is on the end because that is the part that, well, scoops you. slurp

BLUEPRINT PART B: REMNANT INJECTOR

NOTES: Leaves trace line amount on interior. Over-usage /Over-exposure negates effect.

Honestly the fact that there’s an ‘injector’ here somewhere is weird because it seems Scott made this thing really lowpoly and didn’t add much if anything when he went ‘lets make this a blueprint!’ because there’s clearly no… tubes, or needles, or… hell maybe the whole things hollow and it just kinda opens a hatch and it gloops out. I can’t see scott

Anyway this part of the blueprint identifies that.. somehow, there is an injector!So not only does this blueprint have one, we also now know that, yeah, there is a reason to inject people with whatever ‘remnant’ is. People and/or machines. So it clearly has some sort of reaction when placed inside other substances, and… actually why isn’t the SCUPr itself haunted. Scott probably didn’t think of that…. Moving on.

BLUEPRINT PART C: ARM BASE AND BALANCE

It seems that both wheel-shapes are just balances, given how low the D is. Weird design but not an important part of the machine, aside from making it sturdier while it tears things open.

BLUEPRINT PART D: REMNANT RESERVOIR

NOTES: When heated, no observable motion. Keep in heated tank at sustained temperature. Substance should be malleable, but not more. There is a possibility that overheating might neutralize the effects permanently. 

Here’s the juicy stuff. Remnant is something that moves, and when heated, it stops moving and softens up. If it gets too hot, it neutralizes ‘effects’. So now we know that whatever Remnant is, it’s heat sensitive and moves on it’s own, so it’s alive in some way. People who have looked at the game files might remember something like that… 

Also a weird fact here is that heating may neutralize the effects, but isn’t clear on what effects, or if it means while they’re in the tank or not. This could either mean that the remnants will get heat-resistant in the tank, which us unlikely, or…

Whoever uses Remnants for the SCUPr’s intented purpose needs to be kept cool at all times, or the effect, which we assume to be immortality, will wear off. What’s a coolant that we have in all games, and are only able to disable in FNAF 6? The fucking fan. THE FAN KEEPS MICHAEL AFTON ALIVE, LITERALLY. In theory anyway thats just a theory … but god would it make some god damn sense. 

—————————————————————————

FACIAL RECOGNITION FILE 0072

Remnant is also mentioned in this blueprint!

SECURITY TAGS ACTIVE:001 “Funtime Freddy”002 “Funtime Foxy”003 “Ballora”

It’s unclear here if the numbers are the security tags (which implies funtime freddy is the first animatronic on the tag system, ever?) or if Henry was just absolutely prepared to have to write blueprints on a 100-tag hell machine. It’s probably just aesthetics. Either way, as referenced in LEFTE’s blueprints, all of the animatronics have security tags, or bracelets, or security receivers.. actually it’s likely

Henry’s robots: Security Receivers are so animatronics, Toys especially, can connect to each other to keep out bad people and protect children.

Afton’s robots: Security tags, so he knows where the robots are at all times, and doesn’t let the robots escape.

FE/AR Staff: Security bracelets so the robots know the difference between staff and patrons, and theoretically know staff by name. You guys know the theory that Lefty is submitting Henry’s frequency to the Puppet / his daughter? Shit’s sad. 

That aside, come to think of it, would William have sent Michael a bracelet with his number on it, just to make sure the robots think Michael ‘looks’ like him to the animatronics? Michael goes through a lot of name changes over the series, but it’s possible. Maybe? 

Anyway the main point here is that Molten Freddy is Freddy, Foxy and Ballora (Chica? Suzie?). No Minireenas, no Bonnie hand puppet, no pre-Ennard, no Yenndo, and especially no Circus Baby.

Priority One 

With the most amount of Remnant collectively in it’s structure, this amalgamation of Afton’s constructs is a necessary element of Paragraph 4.

Paragraph 4′s direct meaning still isn’t really clear aside from that it has to do with the end of the game where Henry sets fire to Molten Freddy, Circus Baby, Springtrap and Lefty/his daughter, setting them all free. Of course with Molten Freddy being multiple spirits together, he’s the top priority: Even if Henry can’t stop the Aftons or save his daughter, he needs to save the most kids he can.

That said, note the wording: The most amount of Remnant. Not ‘the most spirits’ or ‘Likely to have the most attachments’ or anything clearly stating dead kids: the most Remnant. So although Remnant was only stated in Afton’s SCUPer blueprints, Henry is not only aware of what Remnant is, he clearly knows how it works, and how to remove the haunting ‘effect’: Heat. Fire. 

This implies that Henry may have still worked with Afton even while Afton was doing a side job with Afton Robotics, despite Henry saying he built at least some of the robots. It’s very unlikely Henry would build.. child-grabby machines, so we’re assuming here that they just.. both made robots. At the same time. Oh timelines…

—————————————————————————

SO WHAT IS REMNANT?

In short, Remnant is some sort of life essence that may or may not always mean ghosts. The way we see the SCUPer work, through Circus Baby’s lines and Ballora’s scene in the Springsuit game (which the springsuit was distracting you!), is that the Funtime Animatronics capture kids in some way, ‘malfunction’, are taken to the SCUPer, and have the remnants of the kid scooped out. 

Why don’t we see some kid’s corpse get mangled up and slurped out when we see Ballora get scooped? Well, maybe she opened up just off screen, orr it’s that it’s a kid’s game. There’s probably a better reason here, I just am not sure what it is. 

Here’s a brightened gif of her being Scooped, which I was too lazy to reupload.

The eye color might be from my de-blueing it, so I won’t bring that up.However, what we see in the scooping process is odd. It’s not really a scoop, she just looks like she got uppercut in the face, twice for some reason. And that whatever the scooper’s doing, it’s causing a flash of light each impact. Whatever it’s doing seems to take a lot of ‘energy’ from Ballora, since she slumps over after as if she’s tired, but is clearly still possessed… or at least has the energy to be creepy while the Real Ballora is now inside the Scooper’s Excavating Arm. 

It’s important here however to remember Scott’s intended view of this sprite:

This. This is all you get. By the time the faceplates open up, Ballora’s already staring at you slumped over. However, something also hidden by the faceplates, that perhaps Baby was specifically hiding from you, is something that isn’t present on the sprite. Because when different objects animate on their own, Scott makes them their own little object and spritesheet in game. 

Because anything moving down there, you wouldn’t see them. Something wiggling, moving, because the scooper is extracting them, and they’re just not warm yet. Something that, just like the Insanity ending, we’re not supposed to see.