#complain and she didn’t even mind that she had a permanent shadow

[weaveandwood]

Distraction

Another smutty one-shot. Happy Thirsty Thursday! Pairing: Gale x Female Tav Words: 2.3K

Summary: Gale offers an alternative to Tav spending the night alone pondering plans and strategies for battles ahead.

warnings: NSFW, fingering, vaginal sex

Tav lay in her pitch black tent, going over the day's events as she always did before going to sleep at night - what went wrong, what worked well, what the party needed to work on before the next battle. The Shadow Cursed Lands were exhausting, and she was beginning to sense everyone’s motivation flagging as the list of things they needed to do kept going on, and on, and on. 

Her tent flap opened, startling her, but no one was there. Please don’t say ghosts are now part of this adventure, she groaned internally, her brow furrowed as she got up and peeked her head outside. 

A faint glow caught her attention out of the corner of her eye - a mage hand beckoning her to a certain tent. She laughed to herself and rolled her eyes - of course he couldn’t just ask her, he had to lure her with magic tricks. Wizards. 

As she walked across the campsite to Gale’s tent, she could see the faint illumination from what she assumed was candles through the seam of his tent flap. It appeared he hadn’t even attempted to go to sleep yet. She wondered what he could possibly want from her at this hour, when they both were weary to their bones and desperately needed to rest. 

“Come in, Tav,” he said from inside, as if he sensed her presence. The mage hand pulled back the tent flap for her as she entered, suddenly in a wonderland of glowing lights dancing around the tent, swirling around her. She couldn’t help but smile as they circled her body, floating between her and Gale like magical fireflies. 

She didn’t have a moment to speak before she felt his lips on hers, desperately kissing her. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly against him.

“Gale, what is all this?” She laughed. “I’m not complaining, but it’s so late, we should be asleep. We have to get up so early in the morning to -”

“I know,” he interrupted. “I simply thought you could use a small distraction.”

He led her to his bedroll, really two bedrolls next to each other, a permanent fixture in his tent for all the evenings they stayed together after the fire died down. Tav usually spent her nights here, but needed the last three nights to contemplate and prepare for the next part of their plan. She thought better alone, the darkness and solitude clearing her mind. Besides, how could one concentrate when Gale was next to them, whispering about his practiced tongue and desire to use his mouth for any purpose she required?

“You’ve been so in your head the last few days, I can see it on your face. In your movements when we battle.” He sat behind her, kissing her neck as she tilted her head to the side. Tav closed her eyes, the light brush of his lips on her skin and his warm breath sending a pleasant heat through her veins. “You are much more effective when you think on the fly, when you are creative with your fighting. You do things no one expects, my love - I worry you’re trying to be too rigid in your plans.”

She hadn’t taken the time to lace the neckline of her tunic before leaving her tent, and he easily slid it off one shoulder, his featherlight kisses trailing down, from the curve of her neck, her collarbone, her shoulder. His hands found themselves on her waist as she sighed deeply. The dancing lights hovered around them, floating lazily through the tent, casting everything in a warm glow.

“Hmmm, I really believe this is all to distract me from getting too in my head and not at all to do with the fact that it’s been three days since I last visited your bedroll,” she smiled, teasing him. 

He laughed against her shoulder, a puff of hot air igniting her skin further. “It may have crossed my mind for a split second,” he said as his hands slipped under the thin linen of her tunic. His fingertips lightly danced across the soft skin of her stomach, causing her to gasp softly. His fingers dipped below the waistband of her loose pants, and she felt him smile against her skin when he discovered she wasn’t wearing any undergarments. 

“Tav, how scandalous,” he joked, one hand sliding down while the other pressed against her stomach, making her lean back against him. She settled between his legs, her back against his chest. When his fingers finally found their destination, she gasped again, a small jolt running through her as they slid down her center, parting her, already finding her wet and wanting.

She sighed as he touched her, her legs parting. He easily found the part of her she wanted him to touch most, and she let out a soft moan as his fingers circled her, her blood roaring through her veins. 

“That’s it,” Gale whispered in her ear as his finger traced her entrance, dipping in and out before moving back up to circle her again. She reached up, her hand grasping his shoulder behind her for leverage as she arched her back against him and began to rock her hips slightly. Her breaths became deeper and heavier as his fingers teased her the way only he seemed to know how to do. No other lover had been able to coax such pleasure from her so quickly, so effortlessly. She could feel him growing hard behind her as she moved against him, quiet groans of his own joining hers.

She lifted her hips, allowing him to get a better angle as he entered her again with one finger, then added a second. She held onto him tightly as he worked her, sending her closer and closer to her own peak with each movement of his talented fingers. She especially loved when he hit that one spot that - 

“Ohhh gods, Gale,” she panted as he hit it as if on cue. Her nails dug into his thighs as he kept rubbing, his fingers curling inside her. She could feel herself tightening up against him, her release so close. “Just like that, please,” she whispered.

“Come for me,” he said softly, knowing that if he kept a steady rhythm it would be no time at all until she came undone for him. “I want to be inside you,” he said as he kissed the back of her neck, applying just the right amount of pressure inside her to feel her reach her peak, throwing her head back and crying out his name to the heavens between heavy pants and moans. 

“Take your clothes off, Tav,” he whispered in her ear after a few moments of her writhing against him, sending a shiver through her.

“Only if you take yours off, too,” she smiled and pressed her hips back into him, feeling how impossibly hard he was against her.

“You don’t have to ask me twice." She could hear the smile in this voice before he placed another kiss on her neck and felt his tongue move across her sensitive skin.

She heard a rustle behind her as Gale removed his clothing, and she made easy work of slipping out of her loose fitting sleeping clothes before turning to face him. The dancing lights were nearing the end of their spell, growing more dim by the moment, but provided just enough light to make out the contours of his body, the lean muscle of his chest and stomach, the gentle curve of his thighs, the outline of his desire for her. She bit her lip, still in disbelief of what lay under the robes that concealed his form so well. 

She saw his eyes trace down her own body - over the curve of her full breasts, nipples already hard from the permanent chill in the shadow-cursed air, down the soft planes of her stomach and hips, marked lightly with scars from their adventure, down to the center of her desire. His eyes darted back up to hers, dark with lust and hunger for her. He reached out, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her to him. Their tongues slid together as they kissed like they hadn’t kissed each other in months, though it had only been mere minutes since she entered his tent. 

“Gods, Tav,” he groaned as she ran her fingernails down his back, scratching lightly as they traced the line of his spine and then back up again. He placed a finger on her collarbone, tracing around her shoulder as he slowly stepped around her so he was behind her again, her skin buzzing underneath his finger's path. He wrapped his arms around her, grasping her breasts, feeling her nipples get even harder under his touch. “I am finding it quite enjoyable back here tonight, I do hope you’ll indulge me further,” he said softly into her ear. Her skin was on fire, every nerve felt like it was ignited. 

A pause.

“On your knees,” he whispered again. An instant flood of desire coursed through her as she slowly dropped down with him, his hand on her hip, maintaining constant contact as if the spell between them would be broken the moment they separated. He took his other hand to her shoulder, pushing her forward, pressing kisses down her spine as she bent and rested her weight on her forearms, baring herself completely to him. 

“Gods I love seeing you like this,” he said, pressing up against her and running his hands over her body. He was hard and ready for her, and felt like he could burst into flames. He grasped himself at the base, sliding the tip slowly up and down, her entrance now slick with desire and her previous release. “Do you want me inside you, Tav? Or do you want to return to your tent?” She could hear the devious smile in his voice as she felt him toying with her.

She would remember to pay him back for this next time, of that there was no doubt.

“Gale, I swear to the gods above if you don’t fuck me right now -” She moaned as she was interrupted by him pressing himself fully into her, slowly, inch by glorious inch. He moaned as she gave around him, her warm heat enveloping him. He stopped once he was fully inside her, their bodies completely joined. He traced her spine delicately with his fingertip, barely touching the surface before pulling almost completely out and pushing back in fully in one stroke. 

“Is this what you wanted, my love?” He smiled, repeating his hard, slow thrusts coupled with featherlight touches. Each one making her moan with increasing volume. 

“Yes…gods…just like that,” she panted. 

“Gladly,” he said as placed both hands on her waist. He drove into her, maintaining a slow pace that ended with a snap of his hips against hers. The sound of their bodies hitting together drove him wild. “Gods you feel so good, Tav,” he said as he closed his eyes, tilting his head back as he savored how her muscles felt as she shifted beneath his hands, how her sweet moans the filled the tent with music would put the best choirs in Waterdeep to shame, how tight and hot she was around him. 

“Faster Gale, please,” she whispered, lowering her head to rest on her forearms. 

“As you wish,” he smiled. He grabbed her hips tightly, his fingers digging in to her soft skin as he pulled her back to him with each hard thrust to get as deep as possible within her. He thrust into her relentlessly - harder, faster, losing himself as he fucked her just as he had longed to these past few days when he was left with nothing but his own hand for company. He was addicted to her, how she sounded, how she felt when he was inside her - like she was made for him. He wanted her to feel like one night apart was too long, just as he did. She lifted her head back up and he grabbed her hair, pulling it gently and causing her to arch her back. He reached around her with his free hand, his fingers finding her most sensitive area, tracing in light circles as he continued his pace. He heard her gasp and felt her body jolt beneath him, sending a surge of electricity through his own body that settled in his abdomen. He could feel her tensing, tightening around him as he worked her both inside and out. His own release was so close, he was near the precipice. 

“I’m…going..to-” she moaned.

“Yes, Tav, do it, please,” he panted, needing to feel her finish. 

She cried out again as she came hard around him, her body shuddering and collapsing as her orgasm shot through her, waves of pleasure washing over her. The feeling of her pulsing around him sent him crashing over the edge, and he let go of her hair to grab her hips and roughly thrust into her again and again, spilling deeply inside her as he called out her name. 

He pulled out of her as she fell onto her stomach, breathing heavily and laughing. He moved to lay beside her on his back, joining her in her good mood.

“Fucking hells, Gale,” she smiled, looking over at him. 

“Sufficiently distracted?” he asked, flashing her a wide smile while he caught his breath and brushed a small bead of sweat from his forehead. 

“I’m not even sure I remember my own name at this point, let alone any plans I had made for tomorrow!” she laughed. 

He looked over at her lovingly, smiling as he pressed a gentle kiss against her lips. “Then my work here is done, a rousing success. I love you, Tav.” 

“I love you too, Gale,” she replied.

The very last of the dancing lights flickered out as the two fell asleep, the worries of the days ahead the farthest things from their minds.

[danikamariewrites]

Could you write a story with shy reader x Azriel?

How would Azriel get the reader to come out of her shell? Thanks!

Shell

Azriel x f!reader

Warnings: none

Ever since you were a child you were quiet and shy and nervous about everything. You had been best friends with Rhys ever since you were kids. You two were complete opposites, with him being a loud and adventurous child, you were quiet and a homebody. The friendship never made sense to either set of parents. But both were happy each child found someone to socialize with.

Rhys had introduced you to Azriel and Cassian when he was home from Illyria permanently. You had hidden behind Rhys giving them a tentative smile and a slight tilt of your head.

Over the centuries Cassian, Azriel, and Mor became your friends too. You were very comfortable around Mor. You saw her as safe person because she was a female. She was also ok with doing whatever you were comfortable with. She had planned girls nights with you to have a break from the boys.

You had been scared of Cassian at first, he’s just so tall and muscular you were afraid he’d hurt you. As you got to know him, you found he was a gentle giant. Cassian was also a huge jokester so he felt accomplished when he made you laugh.

It took a longer time for you warm up to Azriel. He was a silent shadow and you felt like you had to constantly look over your shoulder for him so he wouldn’t scare you.

Azriel popping up did come in handy though. You were walking back to the Town House late one night all alone. A pair of males were cat-calling you and got way too close for comfort. You had tried to ignore them, you’re not a confrontational person by any means. So causing a scene in the middle of the street was out of the question.

Just when you were about to start yelling for Rhys in your mind, Azriel landed in front of you. His shadows ebbing and flowing threateningly from his shoulders. His eyes narrowed at the males and let out a growl. They turned the other way and booked it down the street, weaving between people. Azriel asked if you were ok and all you did was hug him tightly around his torso.

He froze. He was so taken aback by the hug, but very happy about it. He had wanted to talk to you but you were always so shy around people he didn’t want to make you nervous. So he had kept to himself. Azriel hugged you back and flew you home.

From then on, you were attached to Azriel and he wasn’t complaining. He was always so happy to be around you, you were a calming presence among the chaos of the inner circle.

You had never told anyone but you had developed a huge crush on Azriel after that night. You’d make any excuse to be around him. Even if you couldn’t find the words to express your feelings, just being with him was enough. You were nervous you’d say the wrong thing.

You and Azriel had helped each other with your insecurities over the years. He helped you find your voice, teaching you how to speak up for yourself. You helped Azriel see his hands weren’t something to be afraid of. And that was coming from a girl who was afraid of everything.

The first time you held his hand, Azriel was shocked. You stared at it, smiling, and played with his fingers. He tried to pull away but you just held on tighter. “They’re nothing to be ashamed of Az.” His heart skips a beat at the use of his nickname. You had only ever used his full name. “They tell a story. And they show how strong you are.” You took a risk and kissed the back of his hand lightly. Azriel blushed at the show of love.

He didn’t think it was possible but he fell even more in love with you. Azriel so badly wanted to tell you how he felt. But he was afraid of scaring you off with his emotions.

After the war with Hybern, Azriel was afraid you’d regress back into your shell. You’d made so much progress over the years and he didn’t want you to be afraid anymore.

You had surprised him, and your whole family, by stepping up and taking on more of a leadership role in the court. When you announced at family dinner that you wanted to help Rhys was elated. Mor swore that was the most she had ever heard you speak. You all had a good laugh at that.

Seeing you finally have fun and be your true self with everyone, Azriel made a vow to himself to be the same way with you. To be honest about his feelings for you. To finally ask you out.

Approximately two days after family dinner Azriel found you reading in the garden of the River House. It was a beautiful spring day. The sun was shining, the sky was clear, and Elain’s tulips were in bloom. Making the garden look like a sea of pinks and oranges. You looked so peaceful sitting under the shade of the willow tree, the slight breeze occasionally blowing your loose strands of hair.

As he got closer your scent came with the breeze. Vanilla and jasmine. It always relaxed him.

Azriel stood over you, clearing his throat to gain your attention. You jump a little, placing your hand over your heart. Smiling up at Azriel you laugh out, “You scared me.” He smiles back. “Sit with me.” You pat the soft grass next to you. He sits next to you, stretching his large wings, wrapping one around you.

You let out a small giggle. You loved when he tucked you in his wings. The dark leather was like a safety net from the world. Closing your book you place it on your other side and look up at Azriel. “What’s up?” He shakes his head, “Nothing. Just wanted to say hi.”

You bite your lip, not totally convinced. Azriel’s eyes wandered to your lips. Mother above that drove him crazy. He wanted to bite your lips, wanted to kiss them. They just looked so perfect.

He cleared his throat again shaking his head a little, causing loose strands of his onyx hair to slip onto his forehead. You bring your fingers up to push them back. Azriel’s face tingles at the touch, blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“I can tell when something’s on your mind Az. What’s up?” You give him a reassuring look. He lets out a huff through his nose. No more holding back. He needs to be himself with you.

“For a long time now, longer than I’d like to admit, I’ve had feelings for you. More than friendship. As I’ve watched you come out of your shell with us, I’ve fallen in love with you. You’re so perfect y/n. More than perfect and I want to be with you. If you want that too.” Your face is set in shock. Your eyes wide and lips slightly parted.

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments. Azriel was getting nervous that he made you uncomfortable. He shifted a little, in a panic you places your hands on his chest and sit on his thigh. Azriel’s eyes widen as he looks down and quickly looks back at your face, which has gone beet red.

Your eyes quickly scan his face as you suck on your lip. You take in a shaky breath. This is what you’ve hoped for, for years. You needed to get over yourself and say something before he slipped away from you.

It was like everything had stopped and it was just the two of you in the garden. In the world. The only thing you could feel were his leathers under your fingertips. The only thing you could hear was his heart beat and your mixed breaths. When did you get so close together?

“I’m in love with you too Az.” You say, just for him to hear in a small whisper. Azriel’s nervous face breaks out into a big smile. He pulls you close to him, resting his forehead against yours. You fully climb into his lap and wrap your arms his neck.

“Can I kiss you?” Azriel breathes out. You brush your nose against his and nod, “Please,” Azriel’s lips slot against yours. Mother above his lips were perfect. He tilts your head back, cupping your jaw for a better angle and deepens the kiss.

You’d never kissed anyone before. So you let him lead. You had no idea what you were doing, but you knew it was right. His lips on your just felt right.

You break apart for air, still leaning in close to each other. “Can I take you out to dinner tonight?” He asks breathlessly. “I’d like that a lot.”

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane

[nightmarerodent]

i have a hc that kung jin has glasses but normal wears contacts and the kombat kids don’t know. can you do them realizing jin actually needs glasses after he loses his contacts so he has to wear his frames?

(i’m literally projecting none of my friends know i have glasses)

You are in luck because I headcanon that Takeda actually started needing glasses after Reptile shot him with acid and got really insecure about it so let’s play with both.

“You’re over thinking this,” Jin said for what felt like the hundredth time in the last hour, “I may not be able to read minds, but even I can hear you spiraling in that pretty little head of yours.”

“I’m being realistic. What use am I in a fight if I can’t see?” Takeda continued complaining.

The shinobi had been holding himself up in his room for the last few days sulking, mourning the loss of his once perfect vision. After Reptile gave him an eye full of acid in Outworld, his vision had begun to blur. Luckily Jacqui was right there with an eyewash solution that prevented any serious permanent damage. His vision would hopefully return to normal with time, but for now glasses were needed to get around.

“Well, your dad-”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Takeda snapped, cutting the Shaolin off. It would seem the topic of Kenshi had gone back to being a sore subject.

“Alright, alright,” Jin put his hands up in surrender before taking a seat next to his friend at the foot of the bed, “Just pointing out the obvious.”

“He has Sento. It’s different.” Takeda insisted.

“Didn’t you fight him off blind though? With just your hearing and telepathy?”

“Not the point…” Takeda sighed dejectedly, “I’ve trained my whole life for this, it’s the only thing I know how to do, and now because of some stupid mistake I… I feel like a liability now.”

Jin remained quiet after that confession. It was true. Takeda has only ever been trained as a warrior. He couldn’t be reassigned like the girls or become a sage like himself if injury prevented him from doing his job effectively. The Chujin would be rendered useless and fifteen years of training would be washed down the drain. His friend was way over thinking this, Jin knew, and Grandmaster Hasashi would mold a position within the Shirai Ryu to fit his favorite student regardless, but the idea that he was now something to be pitied was a daunting feeling Kung Jin was all too familiar with.

That’s when the idea struck Jin. A genius play he knew his friend would appreciate. He’d just have to convince the shadow warrior to come out of his hide hole and rejoin the rest of them for training tomorrow.

“Your contacts should be here in a few weeks though, right?” He asked casually.

“Yeah, I guess,” Takeda mumbled, “I’m benched from any sparring until then though.”

“I still think you should show up though. I mean, did you catch how Jacqui was looking at you yesterday? It’s like she wanted to take everything off you but the glasses.” Jin snickered.

“Yeah, well- Wait, really?” Takeda’s cheeks turned slightly red with blush.

This was so easy. He’s a genius. The great Kung Jin’s masterful deception strikes again. He’s so clever it’s almost unfair.

“Absolutely, and since you do owe me a favor, I’m thinking about using this to my advantage. Have you distract her tomorrow so I can hopefully pull out a win.” Takeda opened his mouth to say something but Jin swiftly cut him off, “You don’t need to do anything. Just be your normal, sexy self, yeah?”

“You want to use me as a psychological weapon against my girlfriend?” Takeda did not sound impressed.

“Absolutely. You game?” Jin gave him his best award winning smile.

Takeda just rolled his eyes.

Still, Takeda found himself walking into the training room the next morning, geared up a ready, even though he knew the General would have him sit out so he doesn’t brake the only thing giving him clear sight. Cassie, Jacqui, and Mr. Cage were already there and chatting amongst themselves. Jin, always fashionably late, was nowhere to be seen. Jacqui was naturally the first to spot him, her face immediately brightening.

“Hey you,” she walked up to him, not at all hiding her wandering eyes or even attempting to conceal the less than PG thoughts that briefly flashed through her mind, “I was worried I wouldn’t be seeing you today.”

“Jin convinced me sulking in the dark wasn’t doing me any good.” He confessed.

“Good,” she gave him a quick peck on the lips before dropping her voice to a whisper, “Because if it were up to me, we’d both still be in there.”

Takeda found himself burning up at that confession, and he probably would have said something if General Blade didn’t decide to walk through the training room doors at that moment. Instead Jacqui pulled away with a wink and Takeda was left standing there dumbly and reeling. He recovered quickly however once Sonya’s booming voice brought them all to attention.

She reminded Takeda that though she appreciates his enthusiasm to train today, he was barred from doing so until further notice. He bit his tongue and said nothing. Then she demanded to know where Kung Jin was.

“Here Ma’am! Right here!” Jin’s voice rang out as he rushed in, “Sorry, got caught up with something.”

Someone probably would have told him off for being late again if everyone wasn’t so caught off guard by his appearance. Right there, standing before them and a bit out of breath, was a Kung Jin wearing glasses. Fucking glasses. Takeda did even know he needed them. They’ve known each other for how long? And he’s never once realized?

“Jin, what the hell?” Sonya demanded.

“Lost my contacts. Can’t find them anywhere. It’s going to be a few weeks until I can get some replacements. Sorry.” Jin explained.

General Blade rolled her eyes and all but dismissed him, not wanting to deal with the Shaolin’s antics any more than she already had to, and directed Cass and Jacqui to square up and prepare for their sparring match instead. Not before Cassie could snap a quick pic of the boys in matching specs first though.

Johnny patted Jin on the shoulder before making his leave. His ex may not be amused by Kung Jin, but Johnny could clear as day see this was Jin’s attempt at making sure his friend wasn’t feeling left out and he appreciated the young man’s efforts.

With a smug smile, Jin took a seat next to Takeda and upon notice that his friend’s eyes haven’t left his face since his dramatic entrance, snickered to himself.

“You’re staring Bug Boy. Got something to say?” He smirked.

Takeda floundered, “I uh… I just- I didn’t know you had glasses. How long have you uh, when did-”

“-I start needing them?” Jin finished for him, “I’ve always had them. Nearsighted since I was a kid. I just usually have my contacts. I guess that’s why you’ve never noticed.”

Takeda just assessed him for a moment before cracking a small smile, “And this is your big reveal? Stumbling in late, pretending you’ve lost your contacts?”

Jin mocked offense, “Excuse you! I did lose my contacts, thank you very much. Spent all morning tearing my room apart looking for them.”

“So this isn’t you trying to make me feel better?”

“Absolutely not. Couldn’t give two shits about you.”

Takeda actually laughed at that and playfully punched him in the shoulder, “Shut your dramatic ass up. I hate you.”

Both were left smiling for the rest of the day.

[raccooncati]

In light of recent Hazbin leaks, and to distract people from them, may I offer you the first chapter of a fanfic I wrote for my sister back in March? It's spoiler free and it's basically a crack fic I wrote for fun.

(Is this self promotion? Maybe. Do I care? Not really. Might as well try to get an audience in, other than my sister.) If you like it, there's a little more on Ao3.

——————

The Morningstar Motel

Chapter 1: Knock Knock

It’s been a few weeks since the Hazbin Hotel reopened, the whole establishment shining bigger and brighter than ever. The only thing that didn’t appear to have changed was the staff. Of course, that was true, for the most part. Husk was still toiling away behind his bar, while listening to Angel Dust complain about the piece of shit that was Valentino, and Niffty was still at war with the pests around the hotel. Not as many as before, but still prezent nonetheless.

And, even though some people were missing from the picture, life, for the most part, was back to normal. That is, if you ignore the fact that the King of Hell has taken permanent residence at his daughter’s hotel.

Lucifer, while not exactly needing to stay there, still concluded that it was for the betterment of everyone if he moved in. It wasn’t at all because he wanted to make sure a certain someone with a red monocle and an attitude stayed as far away from his precious girl as possible. No sir, certainly not the case here.

Either way, it didn’t matter because, at the end of the day, no one cared who was sitting next to them at the bar. Be it a fallen angel or a porn star, the liquor was still the same. And the bartender's not about to judge whatever happened in Lucifer’s head that prompted him to decide that living with the sinners he formerly disliked was for the best. Not his circus, not his monkeys. Especially now.

“…and then she had the audacity to call me, demanding that I give her Charlie’s number, so they could set up another audience. Like that’s gonna happen. Not on my watch!” Lucifer continued ranting about his discussion with the High Seraphim that he had that morning, all while Husk kept pouring him glass after glass of some sugary concoction that only the Morningstars appeared to be able to ingest. Honestly, that thing had to be the reason diabetes was a thing in Hell too.

Angel chimed in, apparently really interested in what the King was saying. “If this goes like last time, we might as well tear down this joint ourselves. Just to cover our bases.”

“That’s not a bad idea.”

“I know, I’m a genius.” Angel took the glass Husk offered him, taking a sip before continuing. “In all seriousness, Your Majesty, is it really that bad they wanna talk? I mean, Heaven never reached out to us before. That has to count for something, right?”

Lucifer sighed. “I suppose so. And, whether I like it or not, this is what Charlie wants. A chance to convince those stuck up holier-than-thou idiots to listen.”

Husk took this moment to join the conversation. “So you’re giving the seraph Princess’ phone number?”

Taking a gulp from his drink, Lucifer turned to the bartender. “Oh, it’s a done deal.” He swirls his drink as he talks. “Although, I did warn Sera that Charlie is busy today, so don’t bother.”

Angel snorts. “Yeah, busy going on dates.” Which was true, Charlie and Vaggie were out for the whole day. The girls were itching to go on a proper date, the first one in months, and their friends and family assured them that the hotel will still be standing by the time they return.

While the two demons and an angel were having their conversation, Alastor watched from the shadows. The Radio Demon was in no way going to interact with that group, it wasn’t in his itinerary for today. And neither was the knocking coming from the front door. Honestly, how was he the only person hearing it? It was quite loud.

Never mind that. He was the host of the hotel, so he might as well do his job and open the door, let the new guests in.

Approaching the entrance, Alastor swung the door open, his perpetual smile accompanying his already rehearsed speech. “Well hello you pitiful sinner! Welcome to the Hazbin Ho–“ The face greeting him on the other side was definitely not someone he wished to see. The word slurred out of his mouth “–Oooo…”, then he abruptly slammed the door in the guest’s face, blocking it with his whole body, to make sure it stays closed. That perpetual smile Alastor was known for dissapeared, it’s place taken by a terrified expression.

That didn’t go unnoticed by the group at the bar. Angel Dust is the first to see Alastor in his sorry state. His eyes widened as he took in the scene. Then he tapped Husk and Lucifer on their shoulders. “Guys, look.”

The King of Hell Is the first to comment on it. “Guess the world is ending again.”

Husk, while more familiar with Alador than most, is taken by surprise by the complete disappearance of the Radio Demon’s iconic grin. “That’s certainly new. What the fuck do you think he saw outside?”

Angel took a second to think of an answer, eyes still on the petrified sinner across the room. “Maybe Hell froze over. That’d be funny.”

Husk snorted, while Lucifer added “If it’s snowing outside, I’m going home to get my sled.”

The porn star speared the fallen angel a perplexed expression. “Why do you have a sled? In Hell?”

“Oh, well, you see, there is this ski resort that Lily and I used to take Charlie to in–“

“–I don’t really care right now. What I do care about is what’s hiding behind door number three.” The demon said, pointing at the Overlord.

Finally deciding that he’d rather deal with all of this at a later date, Alastor disappears in a clump of shadows, leaving the person who has ruined his day be someone else’s problem.

And, oh boy, how Lucifer wished he could do the same. But, unfortunately for him, he now has to deal with the mess left behind by the deer. Some things never change.

Downing the last of his drink, the King approached the entrance of the hotel, bracing himself before opening the door. What greeted him on the other side wasn't a blizzard, or another Exorcist army, but his wife. His estranged wife that he hasn’t seen in literal years.

“Hello, Lucifer. May I come in?”

Yup, definitely wished he could trade places with Alastor right now.

——————

This first chapter was inspired by a fanart that had no business being as funny as it was. @_deetea_ on Twitter and Instagram

[eternalyraven]

(I don’t know what this is just that it wanted to be written. This is a original science fiction short story that I wrote with the intention of perfecting it and turning it into a whole universe, this did not work out. So I thought I’d post it here with the hopes someone likes it. I’m not that fond of the structure I use especially the use of first person because I think it makes it slightly muddled. Contains talk of war and mental health.)

I shifted impatiently from foot to foot and glared out the viewport. I hated being in space after spending most of my formative years stuck on that broken-down junk heap that the military jokingly called a medical space station. I had been prepared to never set foot on a space ship or station ever again, yet here I was. The shuttle was definitely an upgrade from the one Redbird Flyer had driven to get us from place to place, sometimes rushing us and the wounded out when the mines and the shooting got too close. Hades, it was always too close.

I was one of the few surviving implants left and so we were presented with an honor. I was only going to give a piece of my mind. After all, enough of it had been taken from me against my will and enough had been put in. The cries of space flyers reverberating through my link as their crafts exploded was something that was permanently wedged there. I was surprised at how easily I got used to the smell and feel of recycled air and the rock of deck plates under my feet, after twelve years.

On the station I would always complain about the tang in the air, the flickering lights, the reverberations that went from my feet to my head, the damn control unit that either burned or froze out. However, when I finally got back to my beloved farm, the steady earth felt strange, I choked on the air, the sun hurt my eyes, it took me five years to find my Earth legs again.

I watched on the news when all the old war stations were destroyed and I looked for the one that had held me captive for seven years but they didn't show it. They wouldn't have done it justice anyway, not the clang of the space dock, or the cries of the wounded, not the stench of alcohol and burned food and flesh. Not the doctors and the nurses and the engineers and the techs and the rest of us working tirelessly, against all insanity. Our fearless leader looking at us through shadowed eyes as she thinks of her children back home, the jokes, the nightmares, the back biting, the love, the hatred, the infighting, the crying, the homesickness, the desperation, the pain. Mary-Jane sobbing her eyes out until she was finally sent to Trinity station, our vigilant head surgeon drowning himself in booze and cards, our chief engineer ready to hang herself at the sight of the next broken engine.

Then me, hacked into the computer with an implant I didn't want, getting married through a video link and watching my 'son' grow up into a stranger, unable to attend mom's funeral, dying a little each day as my childhood was robbed away. I know that I am just one of many whose lives were ruined and some would say that I was lucky that I was alive, but some days I don't feel lucky.

Even after all these years, I still don’t know much about the people we were fighting. I didn’t want to know. I rationally know that they were fighting for their homes, their culture, their families. Their land and culture will never be the same again. I know that they lost more than we ever could.

That was what I was here to say, not to listen to them prattle on about the necessity and honour of it all. I was here to present the cost; my childhood, a doctor's sanity, flyer's dreams, a warrior's life, an engineer's sight, a child's mother, a people ruined, so many things that was why I was here on this flying monstrosity, listening to some flyer, who was too young to remember the galaxy war, babble on.

I have this thing about my hair. I had to keep it short for most of my life. Long hair gets in the way when you try to plug into the computer. Long hair itched and tangled and got in the way. It wasn't practical for an implant, for someone who scurried through tangled wreaks and ran through forests. Someone who leaned over consoles and couldn't afford the second it took to brush his hair away. The longest I let it get was when I was on the floating piece of junk known as 40779 medical station or Hades, depending on who was speaking. That was when I could let it go down to just below my jaw. At its shortest, I was practically bald. I mostly cut it myself. I didn't mind, never really had the time or patience to be a girl and think about my hair. I was a child running through the motions of being a solider, not really much time for hair.

The moment I was free, however, I tried hair growing products. I yelled when people even thought of cutting my hair. I didn't want to be that person. I wanted to be pretty, to be human again. Short hair was for running across a strange planet or sitting on a space station, not for home. Not for working on my farm and dancing with my wife. No, I needed long hair. I needed to be a wife, a mother, a sister, a daughter. Not a solider, not an implant, not a tech, not a medic, not a stranger. I got it down to my waist and it tangled, got in the way and I didn't know what to do with it, but I needed it. Short hair was for boys, short hair made you stand out, short hair showed people where you had been, short hair showed the implant. Short hair wasn't practical for a wife and mother and daughter.

The problem was that I stood out with long hair or short hair. Long hair, and makeup and dresses couldn't hide what had happened to me, what I was. Just because I looked the part didn't stop my nightmares. Didn't stop the agoraphobia, the hallucinations, the memories that no one understood. I didn't smile at the jokes that they said. I didn't want to go to dances anymore. I screamed every time something dropped and I couldn't stand crowds. I had grown to be a different person while I was away and they had grown too. I wanted to be the person they wanted, who laughed and danced, and rode horses and played in fields and was everything to her child and family, but I couldn't. I wasn't a daughter, I wasn't a wife, I wasn't a mother; I was a stranger. Two days after my wife left me and took her son, I chopped off all my hair. If long hair can't make me that person again, then why should I try?

My stomach lurched to my throat as the shuttle docked on the station and the young flyer apologized for the rough landing. I had to inwardly laugh. Compared to some of the aerodynamics Redbird and Starlight subjected me to over the years, it was a walk in the park in fact, quite smooth. However, I said nothing. The two of us had developed a nice uncomfortable silence halfway through the ride and I had no desire to ruin it now. It wasn't that I hated or even disliked young people, it's just that I didn't really understand them and they didn't understand me (Especially my 'son' and daughter. To them I was a blank wall that could never be understood and shouldn't even be tried). Besides, it wasn't the cycle that had disturbed my stomach, it was the memories that insisted on invading my consciousness.

I had finally stopped seeing war everywhere. The sight of red hair didn't make me think of a young woman with big dreams and a big attitude stripped of everything she dreamed of, just one of so many broken young people. The smell of rust and smoke didn't transport me to the death trap of a station and a situation born in Hades. I could hear the rumble of thunder without breaking into a cold sweat of terror and feel the rush of adrenaline surge through me. I no longer expected the floor under my feet to roll or the air to push in around me and I don't flinch from the touch of metal. I had finally left all that behind on a station that no longer existed and a world that we had no business pursing. I was free.

I wish that it had happened years ago before I was saddled with the mantle of crazy because I flinched at things that weren’t there and blinked and moaned in the dim sunlight. Before, my wife left me because she didn't recognize the woman she was with, because it was so much easier to pretend that everything was OK when a solar system and a video link stood between us. I wonder sometimes if she regretted marrying me because I know she didn't regret the divorce. She found someone better, someone who didn't still reside in space, who hadn't left her sanity on a planet so similar to ours yet so different. She found someone who could be there for her son, who didn't stare at him, wondering why a little boy wasn't staring back. It was for the best, I suppose. My second marriage lasted less time and my daughter loves me because she has to. Which is another thing that I regret. The second marriage confirmed something for me though. The reason that my first marriage had lasted so long was because we were able to turn off the video link. But I had sorted those issues now; I was ready to be a mother despite the fact that it was too late. Then this happened.

All that work to forget and all it took was one message to bring it all back. All it took was one message to remind me that it would never be over. They could demolish all of the medical and war stations. They could declare peace treaties and start attempting interspecies healing. They could even remove all the implants that made my life hell, that stole my brother and twelve years of my life. They could do all these things, and they did, but they couldn't fix what had been done to me. They couldn't remove the memories of the horror, of the pain, of friends slowly losing their minds as they patched people and machines up as if they were interchangeable. They couldn't make it so one young flyer could stand up and walk, could recover her dreams of being the first flyer to search the Jemison asteroid belt, the one to give humanity the resources it needed. Peace treaties could never give a doctor back his sanity, his youth, his hope, his home. Demolishing the stations would never give a mechanic back her faith, her love, her determination. Words would never return the lives lost, not simply the dead but the living. The dead remained dead, my friends remained broken, my brother would remain in a coma and I would remain alone. Yet here they were offering their apologies and a celebration.

So my stomach clenched as the memories that I had fought so hard to suppress found their way through and I stepped onto the space station. I had never been here before, but the moment my boots hit the floor with a metallic bang it felt achingly familiar. As I stood there I had to ignore the feelings coursing through me, especially the horrific feeling that I was coming home.

[moonlightazriel]

The 10 things I hate about you /// A Nessian Fic

Summary: He clouded her mind and made a permanent home in her thoughts even if they were filled with the reasons why she should hate him.

Warnings: Angst, fluff and some smut

Word Count: 2,4K

Notes: This gift exchange was such a fun thing to do, this is my gift to @c-e-d-dreamer, she was so nice to me, she answered my never ending questions and helped me make this, this was made with love and from the bottom of my heart, I really hope that she and y’all enjoy this as much as I did. Thank you @acotargiftexchange for this amazing event. Happy holidays to her and each one of you.

Main Masterlist

Nesta has always been an strong and independent woman, after everything she’s been through she learned to survive, she would do all in her power to prevent being hurt ever again. The ruin of her family, her sister being taken away, the cauldron and the war, those things devastated and broke her, but the most terrifying thing was how her heart would easily beat faster to a certain Illyrian general. Her thoughts would always be filled with him, and she liked to count the reasons why she hated him.

1- His eyes:

The first time he showed up at her door, Nesta took notice of his eyes, how they would glow like melted gold as the sun light shone upon him, staring at her soul and marking themselves at her memory, that night she dreamed of them, the beautiful hazel pair of eyes looking at her with the love she craved so much yet pretended that she didn’t needed. It was his eyes that she’d seek that day, when they dragged her to her fate, she saw the pain of the broken promise, she saw the sorrow and the conflict of wanting to save her and kill all those males who dared touch her. Nesta tried so hard to convince herself that he wasn’t important but at the same time, when things would get complicated and she felt like loosing her sanity, it was the hazel eyes of Cassian that she would look at and find comfort in. Nesta hated how he looked at her like she was worth it, like she was more than the small and damaged shadow of what she used to be, like she deserved love and there was hope for her. She hated even more how just by looking at him in the eyes, she would get convinced that maybe there was another way for her out of the darkness, because even if she hated to admit, those hazel eyes were the light in the end of the tunnel.

2- His kindness:

Nesta watched from afar, as Cassian helped train the priestesses, her eyes scanning how he would make sure that the females were comfortable, keeping his distance and only approaching them after asking for their permission, she knew how those poor females were harmed by man and how horrified they were of them, her heart squeezed a little as she saw how Cassian would smile at them, the friendly smile to show them that he didn’t mean no harm, she would sit and watch as everyday he made sure to be nothing but kind to them, his gentle nature making the females open up to him. Nesta hated how easily Cassian made people trust him, he always knew what to say and how to act, he didn’t need to push people away, he was just like the sun, people naturally gravitated towards him, she hated how he would always help the others without even care if he was going to put himself in danger, his bravery was endearing, Nesta hated to admit that it was at him that she looked when she would think of becoming a better version of herself, how she would enjoy being courageous and kind just like him was to every being in his life.

3- His boldness:

He was never afraid to speak his mind, even his dirtiest thoughts would get out there for everyone to hear, so Nesta wasn’t surprised when he started to joke about the two of them sharing a bed, Rhysand decided that it was time for her to go on a mission and they ended up on a old and dusty inn, the place barely had space for Cassian’s enormous body, his wings confined in the tight space, while he complained.

“Too big for this space?” Nesta’s sarcastic voice was close to him, he turned to her, their bodies touching too much to her liking.

“Nah, I’m used to my big things confined in small spaces.” His voice was low and dangerous as he looked down, to his own pants and Nesta groaned, really annoyed at his behavior.

“Don’t even think that we’re sharing this bed, you won’t get close to me.” She said getting ready to get the bed all to herself.

“My dear, I won’t force you to share a bed, when we finally share a bed, it won’t be in this awful place, you deserved better than this when you’re screaming my name.” He smirked and Nesta hated how she felt the heat getting to her cheeks and down her body, she hated how he had this kind of power to get under her skin with just words, she hated more the fact that she secretly waited for the day he would do everything he said to her.

4- His affection:

She stood still, her heart beating faster as Cassian stood in front of her, his thumb caressing her lower lip as he looked at her with adoration, his lips inches from her, she wanted to kiss him, Nesta considered her a selfish person sometimes, what was wrong about being selfish one more time?

“You’re so beautiful.” He looked at her lips, the pang in her chest harder than before, Nesta didn’t knew what she had done to deserve his affection, to deserve him. She gave in, her head inclining against his as their lips met, his lips were soft, just like she had imagined and he knew what he was doing, his large hands pressing her hips as she melted in his arms, the never ending thoughts finally getting quiet as she lost herself in him, happily humming against him, she dreamed about this for so long and her mind wasn’t capable of making him justice. The kiss got more desperate, more hungry and Nesta hated that her mind screamed at her, telling her to stop, foolishly trying to protect her stupid heart, and she hated even more when her hands pushed him away, his flushed cheeks and swollen lips, his gaze filled with lust staring at her while she ran away. She was always a logical person, but for once she wished to follow her heart.

5- His hair:

Cassian showed up in the dining room, his wet dark locks framing his face, Nesta couldn’t help but look at him, how the dark hair complimented his face, she loved when he would wear it in a bun, with some loose strands on the sides of his face, she hated how when she couldn’t sleep, late at night, she would think of him, his head laying peacefully on her chest while she rushed her fingers through his hair, the soft waves caressing her fingers, she would thought of sitting with him, braiding his hair, intertwining the strands one by one, creating braid after braid, she imagined herself helping him washing it, how she would pour water on his head and clean the dirt off of it, she hated herself for imagining her finger grabbing harshly at the obsidian locks, while his face would be buried between her legs as he ate her out, the disheveled hair as they made love thorough the night. She hated how she would fantasize if their kids would have her blonde boring hair or they would inherit their father’s beautiful and soft hair. She would give everything to just lay down and play with his hair, her heart silently pleading for it as she tried to shut this silly desire deep down with the other conflicted feelings she had for him.

6- His worry:

Nesta felt her limbs freezing, her whole body shaking, the cold winds of the Illyrian mountains weren’t merciful on her skinny body, Cassian was looking at her, his eyes filled with worry that she would freeze to death, he tried lightning the fire pit, but the horror on Nesta’s face stopped him, even if Nesta never openly told him why she would rather die than hearing the crackling of the fire, Cassian knew that she would get haunted by the memories of her father being killed in front of her, and he would never do that to her on purpose, but he couldn’t think of a way of warming her, at least not a way that wouldn’t make her bash his head with a rock but he needed to try, so he suggested that maybe they should sleep together to keep each others alive. To Nesta’s distaste, she wasn’t able to hide the satisfied sound that came from her mouth when Cassian’s hot body held her’s, the warmth more than welcome, soothing the throbbing pain in her articulations, and making her lips going back to normal, the blue shade fading slowly as she crawled into his chest. She hated how he would always worry about her, treating her like she needed to be taken care, giving her food, giving her comfort and reassurance when she didn’t even ask, she hated even more how she liked to be taken care by him.

7- His hands:

Nesta decided that she wasn’t obligated to do all that Cassian said, so she decided to sit and watch as he trained alone, she crossed her arms and pretended to be bored as her eyes wandered all over his body, stopping at his hands that grabbed firmly on the swords he was spinning, her thoughts traveling to a more darker place than she intended. She hated how she would think of those exact same hands grabbing her tights, while his lips leave marks on her neck and she tried to hide her moans, she thought of these hands undressing her, piece by piece while he worshipped her body, those hands traveling down and getting in between her legs, opening them and rubbing circles on the part that would pulse for him, throbbing with desperate need for him. Her thoughts were cut off by the loud laughter leaving his lips as he nodded his head, a smirk on his face, and once again she hated how every time she would be with someone it was him that she thought about, he was the desire of her fantasies and she hated him so much for it.

8- His intelligence:

Cassian was a funny male, he would easily laugh of the most simple things possible, people would always mistake this as ignorance, but to Nesta, Cassian was one of the smartest person she knew, he precisely knew everything about weapons, fighting and war strategies. He was teaching the valkyries some kind of elaborated training method and Nesta was paying attention to everything he was saying, he answered every question and knew everything. Nesta hated how people would disdain him, treat him less than he was, she hated how he had to prove himself every damn time, because every time someone looked at him, they would think of him as just another dumb brute. Nesta often would sit and pay attention to what he said, the way his lips curved when he talked about something he liked, the way his eyes would light up when he talked about fighting methods, she would gladly listen to him for hours if this meant that she would learn something from him, she hated to think that he may felt less because of the way people treated him, so she always made sure to let him know, in her weird and aggressive way, that she appreciated him.

9- His personality:

Cassian was soft, gentle, kind, funny and a good male, Nesta learned all of that by watching him closely, seeing every bit of his bright personality, she hated how he was the completely opposite of her, Nesta was dark, broken, wrong, something changed in her after drowning in the cauldron, she could feel the burning rage running in her veins, but the fear in her soul was even stronger, she was afraid of looking in the mirror and not recognizing who she was anymore, she was afraid of open up to people and see them deciding that she was too damaged to be saved, she was so afraid of everything she had become that she stopped trying to heal, she stopped to feel and to let people in, but it wasn’t in Cassian’s mind to give up on her, his persistent personality making him try again, and again, getting even closer than before every time she would push him away. Nesta hated that he wouldn’t leave her alone, she didn’t need him, she wanted to be by herself and sink into the void in her chest, that’s what she deserved, but Cassian was always there with a warm smile to her, and with that, she decided that she hated even more the thought of not having him there, trying to get her out of her shell, trying to make her alive again, she didn’t know what would be left of her if he gave up on her, but thankfully to her, it wasn’t like Cassian’s to back up from a challenge.

10- His love:

She knew, she notice how he would look at her, how the house would always give her, her favorite tea, she knew that it wasn’t the house when she caught him one day, asking for Azriel’s help to teach him how to make tea, she never knew what love looked like, Thomas never loved her, her father never loved her and she didn’t make it easy for her sisters to love her, but why did she felt deep down her that everything he did for her was out of love!? Something told her that when Cassian would defend her from the others, telling that she wasn’t a bad person and she was just lost, it was because he loved her, him volunteering to teach her was because he loved her, him supporting her idea and helping her recruiting the priestess was because he loved her, she knew that every time he looked at her, his eyes were full of love, desire, affection, caring and worry about her, she knew because she loved him, he disarmed her defenses, broke her walls and marched straight to her heart, dominating and claiming her heart like the general he was. And that frightened her, Nesta felt afraid that she would ruin the only good thing that has ever happened to her, she showed him nothing but hate because she loved him too much for her own good, but Nesta was tired of hating so much, and for once she allowed this awful thoughts to go away while she would think about a new future, a future filled with hope and happiness, mate or not, Nesta was ready to fight for the life she wanted, and that life was by the side of the man she loved so dearly.

[my-name-is-jefferooni]

Have no clue if I reblogged this already so if I did I’m doing it again because this genuinely pisses me off. (Not the poster, the problem they bring to light)

Okay, listen. I’m relatively neutral when it comes to all this talk about the writing and SEGA mandates and all that jazz because it just is what it is. I never complained about Shadow’s characterization because I knew it was something that the writers couldn’t even control, and I was ecstatic at the prospect of having Evan as the new head writer!

This, though? This is just sickening.

First off, Surge almost killed Sonic. No, scratch that, she DID KILL SONIC. THE GUY JUST HAS TOO MUCH PLOT ARMOR FOR HIS DEATH TO BE PERMANENT. (I mean look at 06) And then when Sonic arrives at the Restoration base, the first thing he sees is Amy hanging out with Surge. And guess what? Ya boi doesn’t do shit about it! Yeah sure, he and Amy follow Surge around to keep an eye on her, but what good is that gonna do, ya dumb fucks!? Even if you have her at a standstill, the girl’s got enough power to pound you and everyone else there into grains of sand! Your plan of “Keeping an eye on Surge” and making sure she doesn’t start shit isn’t doing anything for you in the long run! You’re just stalling the inevitable!

And. Like. Sonic barely even reacted to Surge being there. Seeing Surge out in the wild after being killed by her is one thing if you barely react, because it’s out in the wild. IN THE ONLY PLACE WHERE YOU ACTUALLY HAVE THE GUARANTEE TO SAFETY AND SECURITY ON THE OTHER HAND!?!? 🙄 UHM. I DON’T FUCKING THINK SO!!!!

And then when Sonic suggests that Surge should MEET UP WITH WHISPER!?!?!? AKA THE GAL THAT SHE NEARLY KILLED!?!?! AKA THE GAL WHO HAS CLEAR SIGNS OF TRAUMA FROM THAT ORDEAL!? AKA GHE GIRL WHO WAS PUT IN THE GODDAMN HOSPITAL BECAUSE OF SURGE!?!?!?!??????? Dude I was fucking done with everything. I was not okay. I still am not okay because what the genuine actual literal fuck!! Who would even suggest such a thing?

Ohohohohohooooo!!!! And then, when Sonic suggests that Surge and Kit should JOIN THE DIAMOND CUTTERS?????????? EVERYONE EXCEPT WHISPER IS OKAY WITH IT?????????????????????

Look, it’s one thing to allow someone who’s whole thing is shape shifting and manipulation onto the team. That’s literally Mimic’s whole thing so he gets a pass. (And also Lanolin was barely even told half the story) But allowing Surge, who doesn’t have a disguise, who is very obviously plotting against everyone there, who was last seen beating Whisper to a pulp and murdering the world’s goddamn savior onto the team!? There ain’t no doubt in my mind that Lanolin knows of what happened to Whisper. Tangle knows it too, obviously! Everyone here knows what Surge did to Whisper! And yet nobody bats an eye at this!?!?!?

ALSO WHY IS NOBODY TALKING ABOUT THE WISPS THEY WERE HARMED THE MOST THROUGHOUT ALL OF THIS AND HAD TO PUT UP WITH SURGE FOR SO FUCKING LONG AND I FEEL SO BAD FOR THEM LIKE THEY COULD BARELY EVEN FLOAT CUZ THEY WERE SO HURT AND DRAINED FROM WHAT SURGE DID TO THEM

I know that the writers are doing all this just to move the plot along. I get it. But it is seriously cruel and detrimental that they allowed Surge and Kit to join the Diamond Cutters. They didn’t even do anything bro! They just arrived there, had small talk, established a new dynamic between Whisper and Surge, then left. They literally could’ve just not interacted with the team, or Sonic could’ve just not mentioned the idea of visiting them at all, and the story would’ve played out the exact same way! Mimic would’ve arrived to meet up with the 4 at the railing, he would’ve taken the 2 experiments away to their room, would’ve revealed their plan, yadah-yadah-yadah. I BET THEY DIDN’T EVEN NEED TO BE IN GHE RESTORATION BASE AT ALL FOR EVERYTHING TO WORK OUT THE WAY THE WRITERS WANTED IT TO.

Everything. Everything would’ve been so much better without this scene. It would’ve all made so much more sense if Sonic didn’t introduce Kit and Surge to the Diamond Cutters. It all would’ve been fine. BUT NO! WE NEED ACTION! WE NEED DRAMA!! THIS IS A SONIC THE HEDGEHOG COMIC SO WE GOTTA BE FAST-PACED AND WE NEED CONFLICT IN EVERY GODDAMN ISSUE AND WE NEED MORE CHARACTERS AND WE NEED AN ANGSTY STORY AND WE NEED A BIG BUILT-UP ACTION-PACKED ARC THAT SPANS LIKE 30 WHOLE ISSUES AND

No. No we do not. We don’t need all this drama, all this in-universe and fandom discourse. Just let the characters talk. Give us a few issues where they just get to interact with each other and go on cute fun little adventures and take care of menial tasks and do silly goofy things and talk with each other. Let them breathe, let them live their lives! Let us actually get attached to these characters before shoving them into another dilemma! This is a Sonic comic, sure, but we don’t need drama and action all the goddamn time! Just look at the Knuckles and Amy issue that did incredibly well because of the fact that it was literally just Amy and Knuckles hanging out! Look at all the fan-comics that are just characters being themselves and comforting each other! Look at all the issues with the Chaotix in them!! People don’t want overlapping storylines and over complicated junk! We don’t want something as sick and twisted as issue 67! We want the characters to resonate with us. We want something fun, something lighthearted, something that can lift us up when we feel down. BRO LOOK AT HOW WELL ALL THE ANNUALS AND SPECIALS ARE DOING. THE WINTER JAM IS BETTER THAN THE MAINLINE BULLSHIT YALL ARE SPEWING OUTTA YOUR ASSES RIGHT NOW!!!

I will give credit where it’s due and say that 67 does have some good panels and leaves room for improvement, but the majority of the issue is literally just. An issue. I had real high hopes for this issue due to the preview pages and I think I speak for us all when I say that we were very let down.

I mean no disrespect to the writers and artists and everyone else working ver hard on these comics. I can’t imagine how much time it must take for them to get all this done in under a month! But I do really wish that, especially for issue 67 since it’s the 11th issue since 56 and it has Surge in it, the writers could’ve and should’ve started using those big brains of theirs to actually make something good and cohesive.

So I just flipped through IDW Sonic issue 67 and...yikes. I can't hold my tongue, there are some nasty implications in this issue.

To make a long story short, there's a scene toward the end of the issue where Sonic and Amy (successfully) browbeat Whisper into teaming up with the person who almost killed her last year. Basically telling her to suck it up and run back to her abuser for another go.

Honestly it's kinda disgusting and I have to wonder how no one at either Sega or IDW Publishing spotted this implication before this issue made it out the door. Furthermore, I have to wonder how I'm one of the only people who noticed it and yet so many on this hellsite were quick to jump on the Sonic movies for nonexistent "copaganda".

Probably because this book is loaded with shipbait. Yeah, that's it.

[steampunkedemon]

from the morning she passed :(

[miraculouscontent]

"You haven't lost me."

Ladybug looked up from her tear-soaked palms, seeing Chat Noir standing nearby with his eyes focused on the illusion of Hawk Moth that had appeared in the sky. It was strange seeing him there, popping in at what seemed like the perfect time - perhaps too perfect, actually - and while he was technically correct in his statement, something that had once been dormant in Ladybug's chest stirred. Maybe it was due to her heightened emotional state, or maybe it was because she realized why she hadn't been thinking of Chat when lamenting the loss of everything else.

Either way, she was upset, not just at herself, not just at the situation, but at him.

"A-are you kidding me?"

Chat lurched forward, his serious expression turning to surprise as he faced her. "What?"

"Now you want to be supportive?" Ladybug threw a hand out to the illusion still in the sky. "You were still bitter about not knowing the other heroes! You've been arguing with me all day, during a battle! You even glared at Flairmidable when I brought him!"

After all, she wasn't stupid. Disregarding her usual "Adrien blindness," she was fully aware that Chat had been putting up an attitude with the new hero.

Chat bristled at the hero’s name, his fake ears pointing back as he argued, "And I was right to! Just look what happened!"

Ladybug stood, glaring him down even with the burning tears still in her eyes. "Oh, so you're going to tell me that you knew? And it wasn't just because you were jealous - again - over me bringing in someone new, after you told me that you'd try to get your act together?"

Chat faltered, teeth gritted, and Ladybug could swear that she heard a hiss. "I didn't complain. I'm your loyal partner, Bugaboo, and that's why I'm here."

"Don't you dare—" Ladybug pointed a finger accusing at him. "—insult heroes that I picked that you know nothing about."

"Because you didn't tell me about any of them!"

"And that gives you a right to think less of them, because you've been here from the beginning when Master Fu picked you, and they weren't?" She placed a hand to her chest. "They're my friends, Chat Noir, and you’re the only one able to be here because you have a miraculous that’s not in the box. If it weren't for Master Fu's rules - for you being so scared of being replaced and excluded - then we'd have permanent heroes by now and Shadow Moth wouldn't have gotten all of the miraculouses!"

Chat huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "That seemed to work out really well for Alya, didn't it?"

"Alya—!" Ladybug paused, memories of a zoo and museum playing through her mind. Though it was a bitter moment for her, she acknowledged, "Alya was a mistake, but you can't judge all the heroes based only on her."

Maybe Alya had always been a mistake, she admitted to herself. Alya knowing in the first place was a decision she'd made while on the verge of a breakdown, so it wasn't exactly something she'd done of sound mind. Had she been thinking clearer, or at least been given any room to think at all, she would've realized how untrustworthy Alya could be with secrets.

And yet, she'd always seen Alya as "above" her - that Alya knew what was best for her - but the things she'd learned from Alya and what Alya had forced her into often caused little more than trouble for her. Perhaps it was her own fault on some level, letting another person influence her to such a degree, and Alya's status as her "first and best friend" certainly shaped her mindset in some form, but—

"...Wait," Ladybug uttered, looking up from her thoughts as she realized something. "How did you know that Rena was Alya?"

Chat looked confused briefly, as if it was a widely accepted fact that he knew, but paled as it became apparent that it wasn't.

"You—you knew." She shook her head in disbelief. "Since when? You wanted to know other hero identities when you already knew some that I didn't even know you knew?!"

"It doesn't matter!" he insisted, waving the conversation off.

"Yes it does!" She pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing heavily. "The more you know, the more likely it is that you'll figure out my identity! I'm the guardian, and I'm supposed to know everything that's going on!"

"Well maybe I would talk to you if you talked to me first! I knew identities and nothing bad happened, so why won't you tell me yours?!"

"Because it's not the same!" Ladybug threw her hands out, then turned and walked across the rooftop to try and burn off the energy that was building up inside her. "We're permanent heroes, Chat! How do you not understand that?"

Chat approached, and she could sense the reach for her shoulder. "I—!"

She turned back to him, silencing him with a look. Her fists shook with emotion as she tried to explain, "I didn't want to tell you, because I knew it wouldn't matter. You're always sacrificing yourself when you don't have to, and acting on your feelings alone. You even treat akumatization like it's something you're immune to, when that's not true. You're not perfect like you might think, and everyone is susceptible to being akumatized."

He blinked, confusion replacing some of the anger. "What are you...?"

"Everyone—" She raised her arms up to gesture at all of Paris. "Everyone was dead, Chat Noir, even me. Bunnyx sent me to fix a timeline where you were akumatized and Paris was underwater. You kept calling me by my real name, telling me that our love—" She spat the words out like they were poison on her tongue. "—caused all that destruction."

Chat could only gape at her, needing a few seconds to retort, "N...no. You're—you're lying, and that doesn't mean—"

"All I wanted to do, all this time, was keep everyone as safe and happy as possible. I didn't want to burden anyone, because whenever I did, something would go wrong. We agreed that I was the responsible one and you were the sense of humor, but you were never happy no matter what I did. I..." She paused for a long moment, realization finally striking of what everything was leading up to. "...I'm done."

"What?"

She turned away, walking to the opposite side of the rooftop and away from everything. "I know how to take a hint. This is beyond me, and I'm giving up."

"No!" Chat chased after her, snatching her wrist. It was hard to tell whether the look in his eyes was desperation or anger; maybe both. "You can't just quit!"

"You quit," she reminded him.

He ignored the comment entirely. "We'll get the miraculouses back, one-by-one if we have to!"

"How?" Ladybug challenged, then again when Chat didn't respond, "How?"

He looked clueless for a response, as she’d expected. His words were empty, and he hadn't shaped up at all since the whole "Couple of the Year" situation. If anything, he'd gotten worse, and Paris only thought they were a couple in the first place because of his goading and all of the misunderstandings. How many "first kisses" had she lost because of an akuma that she could never get back? How much of her life - of her - had drained away because of becoming Ladybug in the first place? How wrong had she been to think that she'd become better thanks to the ladybug miraculous?

Grabbing Chat's wrist with her other hand, she pulled it away from her wrist so she was free. "I'm returning the Miracle Box and ladybug miraculous."

Even as she turned away, he persisted, "You promised me! You promised you wouldn't abandon me!"

"I promised Su-Han first that I'd let him take over if something like this happened. I'd never put you over the well-being of Paris," she argued. Rubbing at her forehead with the heel of her hand, she then lamented, "And all this because I wanted to help the boy I was in love with..."

"...Huh?" Chat paused. "Wait, the—"

"I thought I was doing the right thing! He told me how upset he was about having to leave Paris and I didn't see a mark when I saw him leave on the train! How was I supposed to know he was Felix?"

Tears sprung to her eyes again at the thought. Just like with the ladybug miraculous, her life had only seemed to spiral downwards ever since she met Adrien. She couldn't think around him, and had come to learn that her overflow of emotions had only ever led her to trouble.

No, if she wanted a relationship, it should've been with someone who made her feel all the more herself without so many issues acting as obstacles. Part of it was admittedly her own fault, yet there was only a deep sense of regret knowing that pursuing Adrien had led to no actual progress between them. Had she not been crushing him, or perhaps if she just hadn't known him at all, none of this would've happened. Listening to him and doing things for him would only end in misery.

If this was "true love," then she didn't want it.

"Anyway, I...I'm leaving." She leapt from the rooftop, making her usual distance between her and Chat Noir.

She recalled her confrontation with Su-Han, and how she was determined to try and keep her guardian status as well as the ladybug. Even that had only been because of Chat's resistance on the matter, and she'd foolishly gone along with it like it was the proper thing to do. Fu had entrusted her with the job and she hadn't wanted to disappoint him, but it felt as though she were doomed to mess up no matter what. Fu was gone, meaning there was no one to prove anything to, and a teenager simply was never supposed to hold a miraculous in the first place.

After dropping down into an alley and checking for anyone nearby, Ladybug closed her eyes to whisper her detransformation phrase. The light washed over her, turning her back into—

"Marinette!"

To her shock, Chat dropped down into the alley with her, blocking her path back onto the street. Before she could even utter his name, he uttered his own detransformation phrase and the light washed over him as well.

Standing before her, where once was Chat Noir, was now Paris' golden boy, Adrien Agreste. She was seeing his identity for the first time, and despite all of the things that would indicate that he should feel otherwise, he looked ecstatic.

"This was all meant to be after all, m'lady!" he exclaimed, approaching her with outstretched arms. "So you could reveal to me, and now we can be together without anyone else in the way!"

Marinette could only stare at him, dazed from the startling realization. Chat had not only revealed himself to her without a care in the world, but seemed convinced that this somehow solved everything.

Yet, all she could think of was how it made everything worse. It'd meant that Chat had been the one leaving Paris and didn't warn her - as Felix had either been an afterthought or not in his original plans at all - and past instances such as what happened during Glaciator's first appearance were brought into a completely new light.

She didn't even realize that she'd let out a chuckle at first, the sound only coming out as she exhaled. Then, like a dam that had burst, full-on laughter came out of her mouth, her hands clutching at her sides as the tears that had built up over their time arguing poured down her face.

It wasn't two people she'd associated with the exponential rotting of her life, it was one. They were the same person, and had she never met them - had she just rejected the miraculous right away and never given Adrien a glance - then she could've lived normally without meaningless drama.

So she laughed. She laughed at the absurdity of it all, of Adrien's thought process that everything had worked out. She laughed at the ridiculousness of the two-person love square that she'd gotten entangled in. She laughed in relief that cutting him out meant that everything would end all at once.

At the same time though, she was crying, the tears far from being due to her laughter. She cried at all the pain she'd been through, thanks to whatever force of fate thought that her suffering would make for a good joke. She cried for the time lost that she would never get back. She cried for everything she could've had if she'd just rejected all the things that'd sounded like the right thing to do.

By the time she'd calmed down, Adrien was looking at her as if she'd lost her mind. In her opinion, it was very much the opposite: it'd never been clearer.

"No." That was all she could say. She could've had a slew of words for him at that point - mostly negative - but she was tired and determined to stick to what had been made obvious over their time together.

She wanted nothing to do with him.

Marinette went to pass him, swatting his hand away with more force than necessary when he tried to grab her again. She wasn't going to be pulled back into the nonsense; not again, not ever.

"Hey!" Adrien protested. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"Don't talk to me," she replied, looking over her shoulder at him. "Don't touch me. Don't approach me ever again. I'm going home, and I'm going to make absolutely sure that I won't get involved in this ever again."

Then, she stared down at the ground, feeling disoriented from the tornado of emotions but strong enough to forge on.

"Because if I can get lucky for once in my life, I won't remember you - or any of this - at all..."

And that was that.

[thestruidora]

Landslide

The Avengers (MCU) Fanfiction

Rating: Explicit

WARNINGS: This story will contain but it’ll not be limited to explicit 18+ content including Obsessive Behavior, Smut, Shower Sex, Edging, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Fluff, Oral Sex, thigh riding, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Dominance, Submission, Knotting, Scenting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Rutting, Rut Sickness

Category: F/M

Pairings: Steve Rogers/Reader, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov

Summary: Steve was never quite sure if he truly was an alpha. Genetically he should be, coming from a long line of alpha males. But due to the several health conditions in his youth, his poorly functioning body never presented. But now, because of the serum reacting to his true designation, a terrible case of rut sickness takes hold of the super soldier, threatening his life. Being a beta, Natasha can’t offer him what he needs, and since omegas are rarer today then ever, she is forced to hire a foreign girl to tend to Steve during these desperate times.

Author’s notes: Did y'all miss me? Yeah, I'm sure you didn't.

If anyone is interested in getting to know the magical music genre called forró, I chose a couple of classics that I feel like definitively played on the reader's first and only June Party: O Xote das Meninas Xote Dos Milagres Cintura Fina Morena Tropicana

Shout outs: @captainchrisstan, @keenkiddeputynickel, @danidv011, @ballyhoobarnes, @pophbfdsxa, @crashbarbie, @readermia, @musicnowandforever661, @bianaguipa, @deezy-061 Thank you so much for your guy’s support!

For those who missed it: Chapter One >> Language Barrier Chapter Two >> Bilingual Chapter Three >> Miscommunication

Chapter Four

Gibberish

She can still remember the laughter. The giggling that came from the back of her throat as she threw her head back, a smile full of teeth spread through her lips. The exhilaration of being with her friends, dancing her heart out.

It was her favorite time of the year. The sounds of the June Party moving on her feet. The rhythmic vibrations of the music's beat coursing through her. The songs, the speaking, the dancing: all at once ringing in her ears. One of her very first alcoholic drinks running through her veins along with all the spinning making her dizzy.

She was the happiest she’s ever been.

Every year her older cousins would travel to the countryside of Bahia's state, where the June festivities were the most elaborate. Her mom, so controlling, so protective, would never let her go. But on the year of her 14th birthday, she begged a little more strongly, pleaded a little more fervently, and now there she was.

It was so much more than she could ever have imagined. Bigger, louder, an explosion of newness to her senses. A big contrast to her secluded life in the city, because everybody knows that being a woman is hard, but being an Omega is harder.

Her mom was mated only a few hours after presenting, a few hours into her first heat, to a man she barely knew and definitely did not love. But still, she was one of the lucky ones. She could have been robbed, kidnapped and trafficked. Because Omegas are rare and the demand is huge, so presenting as one was as good as a death sentence.

But she was still young, she still got time.

And now, finally outside of her mom's vigilant eyes, with her girlfriends dancing by her side and the pulse of the *forró guiding her body she could allow herself to be carefree.

“Rapaz, que secura!” Lana screamed, complaining about the heat.

“É, tá um calor desgraçado.” Gabriela agreed, fanning herself with her hands, droplets of sweat trickling down her forehead and into her exposed cleavage.

Y/N simply laughed at her friends, they were a couple years older than her, but not necessarily more mature. Of course it was hot, they’ve been dancing for a long time, and even in the open space with the night air hanging over them, the place was so crowded that they would barely move while trying to get to the open bar.

She watched as the girls got their beverages, gobbling them down as if they were the first drinks they had in ages. But suddenly, the permanent smile that had been plastered on her face throughout the night died, something curious shifting inside of her. It was a unique feeling, one she never experienced before. It had started as a tightness in her lower abdomen, but it was growing into a sharp pain.

“Você tá bem?” Lana asked if she was ok, noticing the grimace in her features.

She tried to shake her head yes, but it came out the exact opposite as she doubled down on herself, her hands pressing on her stomach as she frowned, the pain becoming unbearable. Were these cramps? Was she about to get her period in the middle of this party?

But no, it wasn’t that. Somehow in the back of her mind, she knew this was different. She had begun to sweat, but not from the crowd or the dancing, there was this intense hotness forming within her.

She noticed a couple of men standing on the edges of the party space, in the shadows, almost camouflaged. Their eyes were predatory, fixated on her, they shined with a sinister glow, reflecting the flickering red light of the bonfire. Her friends called to her, guiding her to walk across to one of the tables, helping her sit down. When she looked again, the men were gone. Was she going mad?

“A gente vai ver se encontra Ibuprofeno, fica aí.” Gabriela said this time, or was it Lana again? They left, said something about looking for painkillers, she wasn’t paying attention, the pain was too much and so were the smells. All of the sudden, she felt like she could smell every single thing and every single one in the whole place.

She could smell the perfume, and the liquor, the sweet and the savory foods, altogether but also individually, it was overwhelming. She could smell the people, not their body wash or their shampoo, but their true scents. Some were warm and some were cold, some too strong and others too bland. And then there were two that were getting closer, too close, and these stung in her nostrils. Her vision had gone blurry and she couldn’t tell much of what was happening around her at that point, but she knew she wasn’t alone.

Shaking from the pain, shivering even though she was burning up, she looked up just fast enough to get a look at the two men from before, standing right behind her. One of them covered her eyes with his hand and the other covered her mouth. A muffled scream and a couple of weak punches were all she could do before they pulled her up from her chair, completely immobilizing her.

She trashed and struggled about, but to no avail. They were big and strong and she was small and frail.

“Shhh, Omega.” One of them whispered in her ear, and as if under a spell, she did just what was asked of her, her free will hushed. Something about his voice, and their touch, turned the pang in between her legs into a tingle.

And that’s when she knew: she had presented and this was her first heat.

They dragged her pliable body into the woods of the rural countryside, the sway of the forró getting left behind, her mother’s voice playing on a loop inside her head, “Be careful”, she always said.

Everything went dark, she could only make out flashes of information. The roughness of their hands and the graveness of their voices as they spoke to each other, laughing to themselves about how much she was worth, the way they sniffed at her neck, exhaling with satisfaction.

At some point, the grass of the forest turned into asphalt underneath her feet, and she was blindfolded and tied up, her lips taped as she was thrown into the back of a car. She could only whimper, her heat burning inside of her.

Shifting in and out of conciseness, she couldn’t tell how long had passed, couldn’t differentiate hours from days anymore. From time to time she would feel the prick of a needle going into her arm, and then it was all darkness again. She remembered being cold, shivering about as more rough hands grabbed at her. Were these the same ones from before or no? Had Lana or Gabriela reported her missing? Was anyone coming for her?

Eventually, it all stopped.

There was a cushiony softness below her, a thin sheet of fabric above her. When Y/N carefully tried to open her eyes, for the first time in what seemed like forever, she was greeted by light. Not the warm sunshine that often peeked through the windows of her bedroom in the mornings, but a cold, harsh light that came from a singular light bulb attached to the ceiling.

No longer tied or muzzled, she slowed sat up in the single bed, looking around. There was nothing covering her figure but the bedding, not even underwear. She found herself in a tiny room: four concrete white walls, a small barred window and a closed door.

Her heat was over, she could feel it, no more fire burning in her loins. She disentangled herself from the bed sheet, getting up too quickly, ignoring her nakedness and the dizziness, heading straight for the door. It was locked, of course.

Finally feeling sober enough to allow the rage to bubble up inside, she began to furiously bang on the door with clenched fists, kicking it, screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Hey!” A male voice boomed just outside, appearing suddenly, as if he was already waiting right there. “Yapma!” He hit the metal of the door, hard, making it shake slightly.

She retreated, startled, analyzing the situation. She had no idea what he had said, but gathering from the brutality with which it was uttered, it couldn't have been good. She didn't even know where she'd been taken, but she had an idea why.

More male voices were spoken on the other side of the wall, in that language she did not know. Something electronic beeped, then it let out a subtle ping sound, and just like that the door was sprung open. Two men walked in, the first thing she noticed was the gun one of them was carrying, while the other came in with a paper file in his hands. She backed away into the corner of the room, trying to cover her exposed chest and genitals with her hands, their big Alpha bodies taking over the space, making her feel even more intimidated.

“Nasıl hissediyorsun?” The one with the file said to her, his words sounding like a reserved recording to her brain. He was older, maybe in his late forties, greying hair at the top of his head, a light blue suit framing his ample shoulders.

When she didn’t answer, simply stood there against the wall, trying to control her labored breathing and the sheer fear that had taken over her body, causing even her inner organs to shake, he gave her a once over, opening the file and scanning through whatever was written there.

“Brazil, huh?” He arched one of his brows. “Can you understand me now?” He asked her, deliberately enunciating every word.

Y/N swallowed the sigh that was trying to leave her lips, staring at the gun, wide-eyed.

“Dumb bitch.” The man in the suit murmured to himself, snapping a finger in her face, getting her attention. “You’ve been on sedatives for a long time, little one. How are you feeling?” He said it as slow as he could, as if speaking to an animal. “Do you got a tummy-ache or a headache?” He rubbed his belly while saying ‘tummy��� and touched his temples while saying ‘head’.

She only frowned at him, a crease forming in between her eyebrows. He scoffed, leaning forward, letting his light-colored eyes roam over the valley of her breasts.

“Or maybe you’re just cranky cause you didn’t get no Alpha dick inside that tight little pussy yet.” Before he could finish his words, she was already propelling the whole weight of her body into her closed fist as she punched him in the face, fear turning into fury.

“Oh!” He growled, covering his bleeding nose, quickly walking away from her, face contorted in pain. “Shoot her!” He yelled at the other man, who promptly pointed his gun at her.

“Não!” She shouted out, closing her eyes and attempting to protect her face with her hands. A blunt sound echoed in the room and she felt something sharp go into her leg. Before she had enough time to come to the conclusion that it was tranquilizer dart, her eyes rolled back into their sockets and blackness welcomed her once again.

*

Five years had passed with her locked in that place, slowly forgetting where her mom’s face wrinkled the most when she was angry, or the exact shade of her eyes, the particular timbre of her voice. Y/N was slowly going mad, losing all hope of ever being rescued by the hero that always came to her in her dreams.

She was fourteen when she was taken, highly prized for her young age and virginity. They tried to sell her to the highest bidder many times, but she fought like an Alpha. Biting, roaring at anyone that came too close. Some of the men even began to doubt she was a real Omega, but ever so often her heat came and it reminded them. Emir, the big boss of the operation, sometimes would come to her doorstep during those times, tap at door and use his Alpha voice, laughing when she had to bit her own lips to control the moans his presence was causing.

But in the end, she wasn’t genetically compatible with anyone, and even those that wanted her for her fierceness were disappointed to find that her DNA did not match with theirs. A part of her was happy she had never been sold and probably never would be, just for the simple satisfaction of knowing that her body wouldn’t give those men any profit.

So there she stayed, locked up, imprisoned, hearing the sounds of the other girls crying in their rooms while she got on her tiptoes, trying to catch glimpses of the outside world through her only window, waiting.

It had been a while since she last saw Emir when the door made it’s telltale beep and was opened by him, but this time, he wasn’t alone.

“Hello there, my Latin beauty.” He smiled an evil smile at her, but she didn’t pay it any mind, focused on the redhead woman that was beside him, looking at Y/N with sorrow in her eyes. “See, Widow? I told you my girls are gorgeous, look at her.”

The woman let a displeased noise at his words, coming closer to Y/N, who gave her a distrustful look.

“Hi, I’m Natasha. What’s your name?”

“It’s Y/N.” Emir answered for her.“Oh, and she doesn’t talk.”

“Excuse me, what do you mean?”Natasha turned to him, her short red locks moving with her.“She’s mute?”

“Nah, she just doesn’t know any English.”

“Oh.” She gave the girl one more pitiful stare, but Y/N felt like she was looking right through her.

*

Leaving the facility was like a dream and a nightmare all at the same time. While finally being free was wonderful, Y/N knew that such freedom would come at a cost. The woman, Natasha Romanoff, wasn’t the best at Portuguese, but knew enough of it in order for them to communicate.

Y/N didn’t say much when they gave her a suitcase full of brand-new clothes and guided her out of that God-forsaken place. She didn’t say a word when a dark-haired man tried to take the suitcase from her hands, Natasha said his name was James and that he was only trying to be chivalrous, something about the 1940’s that she didn’t quite understand.

She remained quiet as Natasha tried her best to explain to her that a man’s life was at stake, that Captain America was dying of a terrible rut sickness, and that he was compatible with her and her alone. That yes, she had been bought like cattle, but it was for noble reasons, because Steve Rogers was an honorable man, a hero and his destiny was in her hands.

She kept all of her thoughts to herself as Natasha pulled up a ‘Rut Companion’ contract, stipulating that once Y/N had served her purpose and Mr. Rogers was out of danger and well, she would receive a large sum of money and could walk away from all of this, go anywhere she wanted and do whatever she pleased. Even after signing it, she resigned herself to silence.

And of course, she didn’t say anything when they boarded a jet to the United States, not even a word about the fact that she was actually fluent in English.

Please feel more than welcome to request your name to be tagged and do check out my Patreon to get your own custom made story!

[timelesslords]

Just a Twinge

Read on AO3

In which Annabeth finally gets that ankle injury checked out, Will and Nico are a kind-of couple, and Percy Jackson is a protective dork.

“I do not need a cast.”

“You definitely need a cast,” Will said, handing her the x-ray film he had been studying seconds earlier. He at least had the decency to sound apologetic.

“This looks fine,” Annabeth said, despite the fact that she had no idea how to read an x-ray film, or what she should even be looking for.

“Look,” Will pointed to a small shadow on the film that Annabeth hadn’t even noticed, “That’s a fracture. It looks like it healed most of the way and then re-broke.”

“And it’s still broken?”

“Looks like it.”

“But how can I be walking on it if it's still broken?” Annabeth asked, crossing her arms over her chest. It was a useless, stubborn gesture, but it made her feel better anyways.  

Will gave her a look, one that was far too long-suffering for a fifteen year old’s face.

“Does it hurt when you step on it?” he asked dryly.

“Your bedside manner is terrible,” Annabeth deflected. Will rolled his eyes, but unfortunately did not rise to the bait.

“Answer the question Annabeth.”

Annabeth glared at her ankle, her stupid, traitorous ankle, that had caused nothing but trouble since she broke it in Arachne’s lair. She knew Will was wrong; it hadn’t re-broken, not in the sense of the bone physically snapping again. No, Tartarus had re-injured her, unknit the fragile regrowth that had been keeping her ankle together, and had never let it heal properly again. She’d taken plenty of ambrosia and nectar in the meantime, but her ankle remained stubbornly messed up.

So yeah, it hurt. Most of the time it was fine, just a twinge, and she could deal with a twinge. She’d had a lot worse than a twinge.

And, okay, sometimes when she got stressed it was worse than a twinge. Sometimes it would turn into a limp, which was admittedly pretty bad. And maybe Percy had been bugging her to get it checked out for two weeks now, and she had been ignoring him because it was fine. Or it had been fine until last night during capture the flag, when it had switched to a limp right in the middle of the game and had neglected to ever switch back to a twinge.

Which is how she had ended up in the infirmary being stared down by a usually very chipper son of Apollo, who did not look very chipper now.

Will took Annabeth’s silence as an admission of guilt, which of course it was, but he didn’t need to sigh so loudly about it.

“You’re lucky you’ve been able to walk on it as long as you have, but you should’ve stopped putting pressure on it a month ago.”

Annabeth opened her mouth to protest, but Will continued before she could get a word out.

“I know it wasn’t possible at the time. But if you keep going how you’re going, you could permanently mess up your ankle.”

Annabeth didn’t have a good response for that. She had known in the back of her mind that this was probably what Will was going to tell her, and that was why she had waited so long to get it checked out in the first place.

“How long do I have to wear the cast?” she asked in defeat. Will gave her a pitying look that did not make her hopeful for his answer.

“Six weeks, probably.”

“Six weeks?”

Will winced.

“You might be able to switch to a boot the last two, but it depends how healed it is.”

“But—” Annabeth started, then faltered. She and Percy were supposed to start school in a month. How was she supposed to go into a new school with a cast? That was like the most embarrassing, cliche crap ever.

And it was embarrassing that she was even embarrassed about it. She’d faced monsters and titans and giants and literally the pits of hell. A little cast wasn’t going to kill her, but for some reason it still felt like the end of the world.

Will was still looking at her expectantly, waiting for the end of her sentence.

“This sucks,” she said. Will cracked a sympathetic smile, which might have felt mean if anyone else were doing it, but Will was borderline incapable of genuine meanness.  

“Yeah, it does,” he agreed.

“When do I have to get it on?” Annabeth basically already knew the answer, but she hoped somehow that she was wrong. Will gave her another sympathetic look.

“The sooner you put it on, the sooner you get to take it off,” Will said, which was as good an answer as if he’d simply said it outright.

“So right now?” Annabeth asked, stomach sinking. Will winced again.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“This sucks,” Annabeth repeated, because it deserved to be repeated.

“Do you want someone to go get Percy?” Will asked. That should have been an embarrassing question, more embarrassing than the cast, but Annabeth didn’t even have to think about it.

“Yes please.” she sighed.

Will pulled back the curtain around the bed Annabeth was situated on.

“Hey Nico!” he called.

Annabeth hadn’t even noticed, or maybe he hadn’t been there when she came in, but Nico was in the room, curled up like a cat, sleeping. There were plenty of open beds he could have taken, but for some reason he’s chosen a stiff plastic chair to take his nap on.

“Nico!” Will called again, but Nico did not stir. Will took a roll of soft medical tape from the table beside him and threw it with impeccable aim, nailing Nico right in the shoulder.

“Ow,” Nico said, voice muffled, and sounding more confused than hurt. He sat up, rubbing his head groggily. “What was that for?”

“Go get Percy,” Will ordered.

“Why?” Nico asked. Then he spotted Annabeth, and recognition spilled over his features.

“Oh. Hey, Annabeth.”

“Hey.”

“Ankle?”

Annabeth grimaced. Maybe it was just that Nico’s proclivity for sensing death also extended to sensing injuries, or maybe she’d done a worse job hiding it than she thought.

“Yeah,” she admitted.

Nico yawned, wide and long, stretching his arms. Annabeth was once again reminded of a housecat.

“Okay, fine. Be right back,” Nico said.

He was gone in a flash. When Annabeth glanced over at Will, he was staring out the door Nico had disappeared out of with a sort of dopey grin on his face.

“Are you two dating yet?” Annabeth asked, snapping Will back to reality. He blinked, face completely blank.

“What?”

“You and Nico. Are you official?”

Everyone had sort of suspected, what with Nico trailing behind Will like a shadow the past few weeks. But better to ask than say something potentially embarrassing in front of Nico. The last thing Annabeth wanted to do was scare him off again.

“Uhh,” Will rubbed the back of his head nervously, his face going slightly red, “I think so?”

“You think so? What the hell does that mean?” Annabeth said, though she was grinning.

“You and Percy got to pine over each other for four years before you did something about it, can’t I get two weeks of peace?” Will groaned, plopping down on the rolling chair beside Annabeth’s bed.

“Yeah, but that was different,” Annabeth protested, “There was the prophecy and the war and all that.”

“A convenient excuse,” Will said. He had rolled over to the cabinet, and was starting to pull supplies out.

“It’s a great excuse, actually, but that’s beside the point,” Annabeth said, waving her hand dismissively.

“Sure. Great.”

“Whatever. We’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you.”

Will took a deep breath, then let it out noisily.

“I’m pretty sure we’re dating. Is that good enough for you?”

Annabeth did have the opportunity to answer whether or not this was good enough for her, because in the next moment the door opened again, and Percy burst through, Nico nowhere in sight.

“Are you okay?” he asked breathlessly, his eyes already trained on her from across the room.

“Just my ankle,” Annabeth said. It was really, truly inconvenient how even a look from Percy could make her heart do jumping-jacks, even now. And the look he was giving her now was very concerned in a way that was very unfairly hot. “I was being a baby so Will sent Nico for you.”

“Oh.” He sighed, relief washing over his worried expression.

Nico lurched through the door a second later, breathing heavily.

“You dumbass,” Nico panted, “If you had waited two seconds I could have told you it was nothing.”

“Did you run all the way here?” Will asked Percy, clearly amused and hiding it badly.

Percy shrugged, unembarrassed, which was also very hot, especially since he was still looking at Annabeth.

“Yeah,” he admitted easily.  

“Dumbass,” Nico repeated, collapsing into his nap chair from earlier.  

“Probably,” Percy agreed, pulling a chair up beside Annabeth’s bed.

“I swear, he heard ‘Annabeth’ and ‘infirmary’ and his eyes glazed over,” Nico said, glaring at Percy, though he seemed more bemused than angry.

“It might’ve been serious!” Percy protested.

“I would’ve led with that,” Nico said, exasperated, “You get I would have led with that, right?”

“You could have led with the ankle,” Percy pointed out, and Nico rolled his eyes so hard his irises disappeared for a second.

“Whatever. I’m getting food,” Nico said, standing up, stretching again.

“Bring me a snack?” Will asked hopefully.

“Ugh. Fine. Parasite,” Nico said. He was clearly doing his best to sound annoyed, and failing at it miserably.

“Thank you!” Will called in a singsong-y voice as Nico left. Nico flipped him off in response, disappearing through the door.

“Are you guys dating yet?” Percy asked, as soon as Nico was gone.

Will groaned, covering his face with his hands.

“I am not doing this again.”

“He thinks so, but isn’t totally sure,” Annabeth supplied.

“Mm. Tricky,” Percy grinned at Annabeth as he slipped his hand into hers.

“You guys suck,” Will complained.

“He’s bringing you a snack, though. That’s cute,” Annabeth said, grinning back at Percy. After all the years the other campers had teased them about not being together when they should’ve been, she figured a little payback couldn’t hurt.

“Definitely dating behavior,” Percy agreed.

“You two are the last people on Earth I am taking relationship advice from,” Will said, “I shouldn’t have let Percy in here.”

“But you did, so,” Percy said cheerfully.

“I can still kick you out,” Will threatened.

“You won’t though,” Annabeth said, squeezing Percy’s hand a little tighter, just in case. Will sighed dramatically.

“No, I won’t,” he said.

“So, what exactly is wrong with your ankle?” Percy asked. His conspiratorial grin had been replaced with a slight frown.

“It’s broken,” Will said, quick and blunt, presumably in an attempt to prevent Annabeth from sugar-coating it.

“You said fractured,” Annabeth protested. She was fully aware she was acting like a child right now, but she didn’t care.

“Yeah, that’s what fractured means. Broken,” Will said, clearly unwilling to indulge her.

Percy’s frown deepened.

“Do you need a cast?”

“Yes,” Will said, before Annabeth could answer.

“Go ahead,” Annabeth said, turning to Percy, “You can say it.”

“I’m not gonna say it,” Percy said innocently, though his lips were twitching.

“Just get it over with now, while I’m already humiliated,” Annabeth sighed.

“I don’t need to.”

“I know you want to say it, Percy. Just say it.”

“Say what?” Will asked.

“Told you so,” Annabeth and Percy said, in unison.

Will stared at them for a second. Then he said,

“You guys are weird.”

“I’ve been telling her to get it checked out for weeks,” Percy explained. Will raised his eyebrows.

“Should’ve listened to your boyfriend Chase, you might’ve shaved a week or two off the cast.”

“Told you so,” Percy said, unable to help himself.

“Shut up,” Annabeth grumbled.

Getting the actual cast on wasn’t as bad as Annabeth expected. It hurt like a bitch when Will straightened her ankle out so it wouldn’t heal crooked, but she had Percy’s fingers to squeeze through it all, which helped. The cast itself was itchy and miserable, but she had expected that.

“All done,” Will said, securing the last bit of fiberglass binding around her ankle. It was dark blue, because they hadn’t had black, and Annabeth figured it would look the least dirty over time. Also, she had a feeling Percy was going to want to doodle on it, and the darker the color the less likely it was anyone was going to notice whatever sharpie drawings he put on there.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Percy said, letting go of her hand for a second to massage the fingers she’d crushed. Annabeth sat up, swinging her legs around so they hung over the side of the bed.

“Yeah, but now I have to live with it,” Annabeth said glumly.

“You’ll get used to it,” Will promised.

Annabeth sighed. She had really put Will though it, for no other reason than she felt like being whiny. He was too nice for his own good.

“Thank you. For the cast, and for putting up with me today,” Annabeth said. Will shrugged, though he was smiling.

“Believe it or not, you weren’t the most hostile patient I’ve had this week. Also—” he turned around, digging around in the closet behind him. When he came back, he was holding crutches.

“Here’s your crutches,” Will said. Annabeth groaned.

“This sucks,” she said, for the third time that day.

“Sorry babe,” Percy said sympathetically.

Then his eyes narrowed, and he ducked down, pushing Annabeth’s shoulders down with him. Before she could even ask why, something whizzed over her head and smacked Will right in the chest.

“Ow!” Will exclaimed. He reflexively caught the projectile before it fell to the floor. It was a pack of crackers.

“Your snack,” Nico said, looking quite smug at having gotten Will back for nailing him with the medical tape earlier.

“Ooh, peanut butter,” Will ripped open the packaging, popping one of the crackers in his mouth.

“Wanna try out those crutches?” Percy asked, offering his hand to help Annabeth up. Annabeth did not want to try out her crutches, but she knew Percy had only said it as an excuse to get them out of the room, so Nico and Will could be alone. She sighed, relenting, and took his hand.

The crutches were harder to maneuver than she expected them to be. They also tired her arms out faster than she expected, so much that they barely made it to the porch of the big house before she had to take a break.

They sat down on the steps, which took a bit more effort than it should have, but Annabeth was still getting used to the bulkiness around her foot. Percy put his arm around her, and she leaned into his shoulder, sighing. She wished she could just stay there forever, and not have to deal with stupid crutches or stupid school or stupid anything else.

“You’re very grumpy today,” Percy noted. Annabeth just tucked herself deeper into his embrace.

“I have a right to be,” she said, voice slightly muffled by his shoulder. She felt his laughter in his chest, a nice steady vibration.

“I don’t mind. You’re cute when you’re grumpy,” Percy said, kissing her forehead for good measure.

“That’s mean,” Annabeth had to fight to keep a smile off her face.

“It’s true. I mean, you’re cute all the time, so I guess it’s nothing new,”

“All the time?” Annabeth challenged.

“All the time,” Percy confirmed.

“Even when I haven’t brushed my hair in three days because I forgot?”

“Even then,”

“Even when I’m snippy?”

“Yup,”

“Even when I’m pissed at you?”

“Ugh, you got me,” Percy said, with an exaggerated look of defeat, “You being pissed at me is more hot than cute.”

Annabeth couldn’t help but laugh at the goofy expression on his face.

“Sorry I’m in such a bad mood,” Annabeth sighed, when their laughter had diminished. Percy just shrugged.

“It’s alright. You earned it,” he said, nodding to her cast. Annabeth looked down at it glumly.

“It’s still going to be on when we start school,” Annabeth sighed.

“That’s okay. I’ll carry your books for you,” Percy promised.

“What if a monster attacks us? I’ll be useless.”

“They’ve probably learned by now to steer clear of us,” Percy said, “And even if they somehow haven’t, a stupid cast isn’t going to make you useless. You could get a really good whack in with those crutches.”

That made Annabeth laugh again, and somehow, miraculously, when she stopped her face didn’t automatically slide back into a frown. It was hard for her to stay gloomy around Percy when he was intentionally trying to cheer her up.

She pulled herself back a little, so she could see his face properly. He looked back at her, a little smile still playing at the corner of his lips.

“I love you,” Annabeth said. His little smile grew into a full-blown grin.

“I love you too.”

[mythicamagic]

Snake Charmer: Sesskag fic

Summary: Sesshoumaru is extremely amused by the prey currently trapped in his den. Kagome just wanted a vacation. Naga Sesshoumaru fic. Sesskag AU.

Rated M

Read on Ao3, fanfiction.net or Dokuga

AN: Sooo I might make a series of stories featuring Monster! Sess or Monster! Kagome. I've already written a vampire one and a werewolf one. Shall see! I hope you enjoy this. 

Snake Charmer pt. 1

Impossibly blue skies free from clouds stretched out above her head that bright and cheerful morning. It was hot. Uncomfortably so, but Kagome welcomed it despite the sweat beading at the back of her neck. Clad in a two-piece bikini hidden by her cute blue summer dress, the cotton thankfully thin and breezy, she drank in the sunny scenery greedily.

Hawaii sprawled out, with its rolling hills, high cliffs and exotic greenery. True, it was a little tourist-centric where they were staying, but the Japanese college students could hardly complain.

"I'm so excited for cliff diving~" Eri grinned, practically buzzing as they walked down a road beside the ocean. "Kyle said he'd meet us there, right? Do you think he'd be more attracted to a confident girl, or should I pretend to be scared?"

Yuka rolled her eyes, adjusting the strap of her bag over one shoulder. "From the way you were flirting last night at the hotel, I don't think he'll care either way."

"Maybe just fake a dizzy spell so he can catch you in his big strong arms~" Ayumi giggled.

"And what about you? I'm sure his friend will be there."

"Oh, don't get my hopes up!"

The three laughed, noticing their friend's silence once the girlish giggles died down.

"What's wrong, Kagome?" brows knitted with concern, Ayumi gently tapped her shoulder.

Shaken from her reverie, Kagome dragged her distracted gaze away from the ocean. "Hm? Oh… nothing," she smiled. "I was just thinking about what that man tried to say to us."

"You mean the Native we saw earlier?" Yuka arched a brow. "Forget it, none of us know Hawaiian and when he switched to English it was a lost cause. None of us can string a sentence together."

"It's true, I forget most of mine when we left school," Ayumi sighed mournfully.

"I flunked English," Eri smirked.

Shaking her head, Kagome folded her arms and frowned, "maybe so, but I could pick out a few of his words. 'Water' and 'no' with some kind of motion with his hands. He approached us while Kyle was talking to us about the cliff diving location with that map. Maybe it's a dangerous area, and the man was trying to warn us?"

"If it was a warning, Kyle would have told us. He said it was fine, just that we should be wary of any rocks, but he knows the area. It's standard stuff," waving this off, Eri quickened her pace, heels clanking on the hot road.

"He knows the area better than a guy who lives here?" Kagome drawled, sharing a glance with Ayumi. Her more sensitive friend bit her lip, giving a weak shrug.

"Let's at least check it out," she said, adding more under her breath; "Eri is really excited. We can humour her a little by meeting with Kyle again today. None of us has to jump."

Releasing a breath, Kagome set her concerns aside for now. It wasn't like she wanted to be a wet blanket about it. Still, the man's wide, imploring brown eyes continued to nag at her mind. Such an expression could bridge the gap in communication. She'd practically felt his concern.

---

Kyle was a tanned, brown-haired boy travelling around the world. He struck Kagome as the adrenalin junkie type. Eri fawned over him, positively smitten. It was rare for a foreigner from London to be so well versed in Japanese, and they'd met through an online dating site, organising a get together while he was in Hawaii. Thus Kagome and the others had been dragged along. Kyle was practically their tour guide and means of verbal communication with English speakers.

His friends were less fluent in Japanese. The three shirtless blonde-haired young men flustered both Yuka and Ayumi, talking in broken sentences.

Kagome couldn't say she minded the male attention as they walked together to the cliffs. Obviously, they weren't up for anything permanent, just fooling around. Kagome had indulged in that sort of thing before. Unfortunately, it was quickly becoming boring. Men just couldn't get a clue. Whether it was a long-term boyfriend or a one-night stand, a playboy or attentive virgin, she found her experiences frustrating on a level she couldn't quite understand. It was lacklustre.

Perhaps today would be different. It would've been nice to hang out with Kyle's friends and get to know them if she could just rid herself of the man's warning.

"This is the spot," Kyle grinned, showing his dimples.

The group had stopped atop a cliff with a few trees littered near the edge. Yuka peered over the lip of the side, holding onto a branch.

"Wow, that's uh… quite a drop."

Kyle rolled his shoulder, muscles coiling. "It looks worse than it is. So! Who's going first?" he grinned wider, clapping his hands and rubbing them together.

Eri laughed nervously, hugging his arm, "shouldn't you go, oh fearless leader?"

"I believe in ladies first," sea-foam blue eyes strayed to Kagome, who remained a little uncomfortable.

"What about your friend?"

"Ah- she's a little afraid. I don't think she'll be jumping," Eri dismissed.

"Aww c'mon," Kyle broke away from her to gesture to Kagome, inviting her closer. "At least take a look. No point in walkin' all the way here and not seeing the view at least."

"I can see it fine from here," Kagome gave a smile that showed her teeth. "Thanks anyway."

"Kagome."

Judging from her friend's expressions, they clearly wanted her to act more respectful.

Biting back a sigh, Kagome forced a more amiable smile upon her lips and stepped closer to the edge, peering down.

To Kyle's credit, it was a stunning view. She'd never seen water so crystal clear and blue. She couldn't tell how deep it plunged, but the waves rolled pure white, not a blemish in sight. No deadly rocks either.

What had the man been warning us about?

"What do ya think?" a playful voice rasped close to her ear. Kagome felt the heat of his body draw near.

Her lips pursed, "it's beautiful," she allowed. Maybe she was being too much of a stick in the mud, it wasn't like her.

"Then- why not take a closer look?"

Hands shoved.

Blue eyes flew wide as Kagome felt her body careen forward, hair swooping back. Letting out a fearful scream, Kagome felt her feet drag and fly free from solid earth. Gravity pulled her down.

Falling was surreal, disorientating. She'd pretty much left her stomach back with her friends it lept so violently. She couldn't tell up from down, but the ocean swooped in closer and closer.

Instinctively, Kagome sucked in a huge breath.

Making impact with warm waters, she plunged deep beneath the surface, bubbles obscuring her vision.

Almost immediately, still, serene waters swirled into motion.

Kagome's heart thundered with alarm, bracing herself. She mindlessly kicked her legs out of instinct the second something started pulling her downwards. Trying hard to break away from the current, her efforts proved to be in vain as it swept her up like a whirlpool.

Kagome closed her eyes. It became impossible to know where she was, how far the surface lay beyond her reach. Her lungs strained.

Getting desperate, Kagome abandoned all logic and started to swim with the current rather than fight it. If she was going to die, she'd rather it be while doing something. Staying motionless didn't suit her.

Aching lungs grappled for air, and Kagome felt herself weaken. Desperate motions slowed. Her mind hazed with fog, becoming dizzy.

Gradually, she began to resemble a motionless rag-doll.

Something strong and sturdy wrapped around her waist, pulling her body.

Kagome weakly felt the sensation of being yanked. Shadows entered her murky gaze like she'd passed through a tunnel, lights soon reaching her again. And then she was suddenly flicked up and released.

Gasping the second her head broke free from salty waters, she sucked in sharp breaths and coughing violently. Kagome then promptly collapsed.

She blearily noticed the dim lighting and smooth rock she found herself splayed upon, shuddering. I almost died.

It took a few moments to adjust and control her breathing, but eventually, after laying there and recovering from the experience, Kagome shakily roused herself enough to sit up. Looking around, she found a cavern of sorts awaiting her. The layout was spacious. Rock walls sprawled around her, a single circular opening high above in the ceiling allowing a circle of concentrated sunlight to pour down into the ocean pool she'd surfaced in.

Kagome pulled herself onto a rocky platform, following a walkway around the water and leaving wet footprints on cool stone in her wake. Thick shadows lay beyond the opposite side of the pool, with a multitude of paths in the rock-face branching off in different directions. They looked as though they'd been hollowed out by a huge earthworm. Kagome wagered they were a maze of sorts.

No way am I going in there.

Glancing up at the natural skylight, Kagome bit her lip. Such smooth rock would be too steep and slippy to climb, and she doubted a helicopter passing overhead could spot her inside. She wasn't even sure how far she was from the mainland. Silence reigned within the lonely cavern, save for lapping water within the glittering pool. She couldn't hear any tourists or speedboats outside.

Kagome swallowed.

The pool.

She didn't exactly like the idea of chancing another swim. However, diving in again to reach the open ocean could be her only chance of finding help.

Putting it off for now, Kagome wandered around the edge of the pool, rubbing her arms absentmindedly. She felt shaken from the high fall alone, never mind nearly dying from a random whirlpool.

"That's what that man was trying to warn us about," she mused to herself, glancing at the water. "I hope Kyle doesn't push anyone else in. That bastard!" she seethed. She'd always been a strong swimmer, but if he had pushed in Ayumi, even with regular waters, the situation could've been dangerous. The idea of it only pissed her off even more. "When I get outta here, I'm giving him a piece of my mind. I bet he'll say - 'ohh it was just a joke.' Ha! You can tell that to my fist, buddy!"

A shadow moved to her left.

Kagome jumped, snapping her gaze to it. Sweat pricked at the back of her neck.

"H-hello?"

Nothing.

Well, it had been out of her peripheral vision. What a convenient time for her mind to start playing tricks on her.

Taking a deep breath, Kagome let the air whoosh out of her lungs. "And now I'm seeing things," she rambled, grasping her hair and wringing out excess salty water. "That's not unusual though, heck I think I see things passing by in the kitchen all the time. Totally nor- AH!" Kagome started badly, looking directly at the shadows. A sleek, long thing swept out into bright sunlight across the floor before retreating smoothly. It had been pale, covered in a sheen that resembled scales.

Was that a… tail?

Kagome took one step back. Then another. Whatever it was, it had been quite large.

She didn't want any of that. None.

Pivoting sharply, Kagome hurried directly towards the pool. Climbing down a rocky incline, she bent her legs, muscles coiling and springing free as she leapt, body arching into a dive.

She made it into warm waters, kicking her legs madly. Gliding down from rippling surface to murky bottom of the pool, Kagome swam towards an opening in the rock wall. Something large and solid slid beneath her stomach then- closing around her waist and yanking.

Kagome's mouth opened in a gasp- pulled from the water with a hard tug. She coughed the second she surfaced, spitting out saltwater and holding onto the thing wrapped around her waist.

The tail.

Kagome's eyes widened, squirming and trying to get free as water dripped from her body, watching the pool drift further away as she ascended. The white scales felt smooth, warm beneath her touch.

Gritting her teeth, Kagome tried to dig her nails in, only to find them repelled by deceptively firm coils.

"You do not possess claws nor fangs sharp enough to cut through my hide, little human."

Kagome jolted, whipping her head up.

Half-lidded, piercing golden-yellow eyes stared back.

She gaped.

Slit pupils dilated.

The man observing her with a wry smile possessed beautifully ethereal features. Pointed ears, exotic magenta marks slashing across his pale cheeks. A silver fall of long hair spilt down over broad shoulders, hanging off the high rock he lounged upon that overlooked the pool. He'd propped both elbows on his bent tail, resting a strong chin upon one hand. The tips of his fingers resembled long, frighteningly sharp claws. Kagome blinked, trying to make sense of his form. His head and torso resembled a human male- physique impressive. From the waist down, however, an impossibly long snake tail sprawled out. She wasn't sure how vast it spread, a little preoccupied.

"Listen pal, I don't know what stage play I've stumbled across, but great effects. Top-notch. The puppet feels really lifelike," she minded some slick hair from her face. "The contacts are hot too, but I'd really like to be set down now."

"Would you?" he purred silkily, tail twisting to flip her upside down. Kagome gasped as black hair cascaded in front of her face, hanging towards the distant pool. "Unfortunately, this one has no interest in releasing you. It has been some time since prey has willingly stumbled into my den like a lost filly."

Kagome's mind raced. Prey. Shit.

"I-I didn't stumble in. The whirlpool-"

"Ah, yes," he hummed, rising from his perch languidly. His form moved smoothly, top half easing closer without fear of toppling from the rock his larger half wrapped around.

"Hn… few mortals are foolish enough to jump from that cliff at noon."

"I was pushed," Kagome seethed, bristling as he prodded and turned her like prized meat hanging off a hook. "Hey! Watch it!" She swiped an arm out, cheeks flushing. "Put me down this instant!"

The Snake-man tilted his head, "curious that of all people, my prey this time happens to be a woman from my homeland."

Kagome had been too startled to really think about it, but they were indeed conversing in Japanese.

"So you're a Japanese demon, huh?" she squeaked. "Awesome. We can talk more about that when the blood isn't rushing to my head. Put. Me. Down," a growl hissed free from her teeth.

His lips spread into a half-smirk, half sneer, exposing sharp, glistening fangs. He turned her upright once more, only to coil more segments of his strong, pale tail around her. A part of it twisted and slid around her knees, parting them.

Something twinged between her legs- a bead of sweat, hot and salty where it rolled down her thigh in a lazy trickle.

Kagome's eyes widened as the moving tail constricted beneath her chest, restricting the use of her arms and squeezing the air from her lungs like he'd trapped her within a huge fist.

His body loomed close, face hovering near. His touch felt oddly human upon her chin: grip as firm as any other arrogant male's.

"The harder you struggle, the tighter my grip," he uttered, gaze and voice almost gentle in their rich cadence.

Kagome fought to keep her breathing even, becoming still. He seemed intelligent and well spoken. If that was the case, talking her way out of the situation might be her best bet.

"For the record, I'm Kagome," she said, trying not to tremble. "W-what's your name, Mr Snake man?"

Ivory lashes fell shut and swept open in a slow blink. His lips parted, hesitating, as though out of practice with speaking it aloud.

"Sesshoumaru."

The Killing Perfection.

It sounded like a bad omen.

Kagome swallowed and kept blabbing. "Oh, that's cool. Your parents must've been anticipating a nice blood thirsty baby. I'm sure they're very proud."

His expression darkened, and Kagome quickly shut up. Clearly, that had been the wrong thing to say.

Sesshoumaru tipped his head to the side, breath fanning over her ear. "For the record," he uttered, archaic speech clearly unfamiliar with the term but imitating her, "my kind are not referred to as 'Snake Men.' I am a species of Naga."

"I-I see, sorry for using the wrong term," Kagome jolted as something flicked out close to her ear, nearly brushing the shell.

His tongue. Was he tasting the air?

Sesshoumaru made a low, pleasurable noise in his chest.

"You know… unless you're into playing with your food, maybe there's a reason you haven't eaten me yet," Kagome was ever the optimist.

"Pray tell: what would that reason be?" he asked, nose brushing and gliding into her hair. She felt his body roll as he inhaled deeply, having a ripple effect down his entire tail.

Kagome shivered. Oddly, the heat of him wrapped around her sent thrills racing up her spine due to every movement being intimately felt. The anticipation, fear and adrenaline mixed into a cocktail of absurdity. She felt its effects pour liquid heat into her lower abdomen.

"You want someone to talk to. Even people called 'The Killing Perfection' can get lonely. A-am I right in thinking you're the one who pulled me from the water?"

"Indeed."

Though she knew it wasn't out of any concern for her, Kagome nonetheless felt a stab of gratitude. "Thank you for that, I mean it. You're terrifying but much preferable to drowning."

Golden eyes danced. "Your compliments leave much to be desired."

Kagome's lips twitched. "Do you see what I mean, though? Maybe you just want a delightful conversationalist."

"Hn, perhaps," Sesshoumaru adjusted her, so that she loomed above him, his head dangerously close to her chest, "or perhaps I do just enjoy playing with my food."

Kagome jolted and gasped as a regal nose glided up the valley between her breasts, lips skimming, a teasing drag. She tried to squeeze her thighs together- prevented by a segment of his tail that rose and undulated slowly against her core, rubbing. Shamefully, Kagome moaned. Her wet dress, plastered to her form- pitifully could not hide the hard peaks of her nipples as her body heated.

"You respond quite enthusiastically to me, woman," Sesshoumaru purred, tongue flicking out to lick a long, wet arch up her chest, collarbone and neck. "Have you considered...you might enjoy my 'playing' with you?"

Panting, she quickly stopped her squirming hips. "L-let's talk about this," she swallowed, catching her breath. "We could make a game out of it. A real one."

Thankfully, his tail stopped.

"I am listening."

Okay, keep talking Kagome. She shifted, looking at the glittering slashes of magenta cutting over his tail like stripes. It was safer than getting distracted by his enchanting eyes.

"Is there a way out of here other than the pool?"

His silky voice caressed her hearing. "Yes."

"T-then let me run for 15 minutes. If I find the exit- you let me go. If you catch me, then fair enough, I'm yours to eat or... or whatever," Kagome muttered, cheeks heating. "But I can and will defend myself during the run."

Sesshoumaru's claw-tipped fingers grasped her chin, turning her face back to look at him.

His eyes were hypnotic in their richness of colour. Slit, inhuman pupils only drew her in instead of repelling. They smiled even as his lips remained still.

"Nothing would please me more," he purred, free hand gliding down her stomach, making it twitch. "You possess a silver tongue, girl. I have not met a prey that could hold a conversation before."

"Thanks, you're not so bad yourself- when you're not talking about eating me."

Chuckling with rich tones, the Naga loosened his tail, unwinding it so that she slid over his coils down to the walkway next to the pool.

Standing on her own two feet again, Kagome righted herself, glancing up at the looming Naga.

"Run along, little filly," he uttered languidly. His soft, masculine voice oddly put her at ease even as she prepared to run for her life. Perhaps this was how he lulled prey. Kagome chose not to examine why she'd responded so... favourably to him. It was the humidity. The adrenaline.

Kagome headed for a tunnel, realising half-way her mistake. It was pitch black inside, and she had no light.

Almost as immediately as she'd stepped inside- green flames flickered to life upon the walls. Torches lit her way, scattered further ahead.

Steeling herself, Kagome took a breath, bursting into a run.

[presumenothing]

you can swing, you can flail

(AO3)

It could’ve been cinematic, if this had been a scene from one of the serials I watched – even I could admit the Mihira rink was a nice backdrop at half-light, for all that some people (Gurathin) complained that I had no appreciation for anything that didn’t involve knives on my feet (his words, not mine).

But since I had the luck of… someone with generally shitty luck, it went more like this:

“Would you mind running through that again?” said a voice out of the should-have-been-empty shadows, startling me half out of my skin but thankfully not onto the ice. “Sorry. I’d just like to see it in full.”

I blinked away the ice-white afterimages until I could recognise the one who’d scared the daylights out of me as one of the non-skaters on the Pansystem team. Almost definitely one of the approximately infinity people Mensah had introduced when we got to this rink, and I had the vaguest impression of some complicated-sounding name starting with P, but I didn’t remember much else and anyway it was now designated Asshole in my head.

And it was probably thinking of me as Really Slow, since I hadn’t gotten around to the question it was clearly expecting a serious answer for.

(Well, that much wasn’t an issue. I half-assed a lot of things, but not skating. At least, not since Mensah had taken me on permanently contrary to all good and less-good sense.)

“Why? I’m not saying I won’t,” I clarified, since I hadn’t stayed back to practice just to end up not practicing. Even if I hadn’t expected anyone else to be around for it. “But you already watch your team skate like three hundred hours a day.”

“That’s not actually possible,” Asshole pointed out – and right, I now recalled my other impression of it from that introduction: someone who very likely was a doctor of some kind (possibly multiple kinds) even though the Pansystem team didn’t actually call it Dr. Dr. Dr. Asshole. (Or whatever its name was. If this went on any longer I might actually have to hack the system to find out, just so I didn’t call one of the resident team people Asshole in front of Mensah.) (Then again, that would hardly be the worst thing she’d ever seen from me.)

Anyway. I figured it was my turn to stare in slightly-judgemental silence as I waited for an answer, so I did.

Though it didn’t seem like Asshole needed the encouragement to talk. “I do watch Iris and the others practice a lot, yes, but it’s from a technical standpoint. I thoroughly appreciate the physics of it, and the practical expertise, but I’m given to understand that the qualitative aesthetics are a crucial aspect that I’m missing out on.”

…right.

Okay, I appreciated that it had actually completed its explanation instead of trailing off into opaque hand gestures mid-sentence, like Arada and Ratthi sometimes did. And at least it sounded legitimate, rather than any of the shitty reasons I’d been half-expecting to hear, like the one that had driven the whole Preservation team to uproot and move here in the first place.

(It was my fault, in that I’d inadvertently caused it just by existing. But also nobody had listened to my numbered list of arguments of why the entire team shouldn’t have to move just because the previous rink considered me “too enhanced” to be allowed in the rink, let alone compete.)

(Which was bullshit reasoning, and the management had probably known it too. It wasn’t like I’d gotten these augments for fun, or even of my own choice, and if anything they were a bloody hindrance, because – surprise! None of the usual equipment or techniques accounted for non-organic limbs! It was more work, not less, and a fucking pain all around but Pin-Lee had reviewed the eligibility rules for all the major competitions and I wasn’t illegal under any of them.

I’d told Mensah as much as part of the Arguments Why Preservation Should Just Stay, but it hadn’t worked. Obviously.)

All that aside, though, I wasn’t sure how much sense that reason made. I crossed my arms. “And how is watching me going to help with that? If you’re looking for – I don’t know, emotions or whatever, you’re definitely asking the wrong person.”

It was a thing both Pin-Lee and I were supposed to be working on, not looking like we wanted to murder the ice and/or corner it in an alley for a perfectly civilised chat. (Pin-Lee had it easier in a way, because she had Bharadwaj to look at most of the time, but even thinking about all the touching involved in ice dance made me sail straight to No.)

This, of course, meant that I shouldn’t have been annoyed when Asshole said, “Yes, I imagine so,” with mild but definite amusement.

My eyebrow twitched anyway. “I’ll skate, but if I hear even one sound of complaint from you I’m going home.”

“I won’t. Do you want me to put on your music?”

“Don’t need it.” I wasn’t sure if it was partially a function of my augments, but I could play most things back in my head well enough that I rarely bothered unless someone else was involved. “Do you?”

Asshole shook its head, so the rink stayed silent as it set its cane against the sideboard and I skated to centre ice.

And it was weird, having any kind of audience that wasn’t from the Preservation team. But that was also the other thing that Mensah had assigned me to work on: if I really wanted to do this (and I didn’t have to, she’d repeated, but if I did) I’d have to get used to people looking at me. And maybe looking back at them. Sometimes.

It wasn’t ideal. My hypothesis – or was it a theory? – was that maybe it’d be mostly fine as long as they were looking at me in general and not, say, my definitely-not-organic feet, but I hadn’t actually verified that yet.

There were worse times to start than now, I guess.

[house-of-galathynius]

Only You ~ Rowaelin

A Rowaelin fanfic, set if Aelin’s parents had lived and she had met Rowan under normal circumstances, if Erawan and Maeve weren’t threats. Hope you enjoy! 

Chapter One 

Prologue: The Night Before

The moon was high in the sky as Aelin made her way through the palace courtyard and towards the river that ran beyond. It was well past the time anyone would be out here. She was confident in her abilities at keeping hidden as she strolled down the path and stopped as she reached the waters edge. 

In the winter she wouldn’t even hesitate at crossing the river. Terrasen winters were harsh and bitterly cold. Parts of the river where it flowed slowly would freeze over from mid-December until February. But it was September, and that meant the water was running freely; so Aelin had no choice but to jump in and swim quickly across. If it wasn’t for her fire magic that was able to dry her off within seconds, she would hate that crossing more. 

She checked behind her, ensuring no one was following and quickly made off into the night. 

The walk from the palace into the city itself was not long if you were taking the normal route. For Aelin, she would have to go the long way round; traipsing through thick brush and woodland to reach the edge of the city. 

After too many scrapes and close encounters with the ground she saw the distant lights of the city. As she entered the city walls themselves she marvelled at the white stone buildings and the way they glowed in the moonlight, the streetlights flickering in the shadows. It was louder here, the taverns only just opening for the night. A group of Fae stumbled down the street, arm in arm, laughing at each other. 

Aelin knew she was privileged, to live in a palace, to have maids and cooks and cleaners. She was happy there, with her family. But sometimes, when she would sneak off to see Sam, she wished she could have a life like this; a life of freedom, to do what she wanted whenever she wanted. The stolen moments with Sam were ones she cherished. 

She approached the large store front, a dark wooden sign hanging above the door reading Little Library of Orynth. The real library of Orynth sat above the city, it’s walls protected with magic to ward off any unwanted attention. And whilst Aelin loved that library, she came to find the old librarians there to be too strict, too stuffy, to fully enjoy the books they held. 

She had found Sam’s library years ago; when it was not Sam’s library. Her father had taken her there to browse the collection of romance books which were not available elsewhere. Since then, she had come back more times than she could remember. 

Sam had always been there, in the shadows of the towering shelves and the dusty books. It hadn’t been until she was eighteen and Sam twenty that they had crossed paths properly. They had bonded over their mutual love for a series of books and had continued from there. It had been two years and every moment she had with Sam was precious.

She gave a few gentle taps on the oak door and waited. It was only a few seconds later when Sam was there, a smile on his face, dust covering his clothes and his hair messy. His classic look. 

“You really need a haircut.” She grinned at him and placed a kiss on his cheek. 

“And you really need to learn time management.” He kissed her right back and pulled her into the darkened library. 

“I was trying to get away sooner, but Aedion was complaining about his new training—“ she trailed off. “You don’t need to hear about Aedion’s boring life.” 

She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled him closer. She took in his scent, old books, leather and a faint hint of lavender, before bringing her lips to his own. 

She lost herself in the softness of his lips, the way he caressed her head as she leaned into him. Her hands found his hair and slid through the messy locks. 

Sam broke away first, his hand finding her own, and slipping his fingers through hers. “I have a treat for you.” 

“I hope it’s chocolate. Kasper has me on a diet.” Kasper was her trainer, and he had put her on a new diet, to try and curb her appetite for sweets. 

Sam laughed. “Kasper can try, but we both know you will not be stopped when it comes to chocolate.” He continued walking, up the stairs and into the apartment above the library. It was rare to find somewhere like this in the city. Most buildings would house two or three shops over several stories; people’s homes were found just outside of the city walls, tucked away amongst the foothills of the Staghorns. Sam had been lucky. The old man who had owned this place before him had converted the floors above into a large, airy apartment. The ceilings were high, dark oak beams jutted across the ceilings, the walls a light beige, and the floor an old herringbone design, worn with years of footsteps. There were little touches of Sam dotted around; a painting he had purchased on a trip to the Southern Continent, a large rug which Aelin had bought him for his birthday. Scattered amongst his things were her own. Books, shirts, a hairbrush which perched on the mantle. She could imagine living here with him, and sometimes it hit her that none of this was permanent, that her love with Sam would one day have to end. 

“It’s not much, but I found it when I was digging through some old trunks of books I found.” 

Aelin snapped away from her thoughts and looked towards Sam who was holding a badly wrapped book. She took it from his hands, turning it over, shaking it to check that it wasn’t, in fact, chocolate. 

“What’s the occasion?” She sat on the sofa, tucking her legs beneath her. 

“Does there have to be an occasion for me to get the woman I love a gift?” She blushed at the words. It was still felt foreign to her, the concept of love, and the idea that she was in love with Sam and he with her. And every time he said he loved her, it would fill her with a warmth that she couldn’t describe. 

She hastily unwrapped the book and her breath caught in her throat. “Sam… this is—“ she opened the cover. “This is too much.” 

“I saw it and immediately thought of you. It’s from Eyllwe. I remembered you used to have a friend from there and you had always said—“ 

“I love it, Sam. Thank you.” She swept her fingers over the patterns and ridges of the leather, admiring the detail in the small book. The fact he had remembered Nehemia, that he had remembered what she had meant to Aelin… her heart swelled. 

She didn’t know what to say, so she showed him instead. Slowly peppering kisses along his jaw, lower. 

And lower.

He moaned at the feel of her. A sound that sparked something within. The lazy touches became faster as they both raced to take the others clothes off first; which were hastily thrown to the floor, neither caring where they landed. They were wrapped in each other’s embrace, their mouths moving together, Sam’s soft hands caressing her curves leaving warmth wherever he touched. Her breath was heavy as she let Sam pull her across the room, never straying too far from the other. 

They were moving towards the bed; groans mixed into the frantic kisses, their touches fevered and rough as they made up for the two weeks apart. But Sam was gentle as he laid her on the mattress, his eyes devouring her. She heated at his touch, as he showed her all the ways he had missed her. 

And when they lay there later, Sam’s head on her shoulder, his fingers trailing patterns along her skin, she didn’t think she could want anything more than she did right then. 

The two of them dozed on and off, until Aelin’s stomach growled. Sam huffed a laugh at the sound. But neither of them made to move, they stayed wrapped in each others arms for a while longer. Sam was the first to break the silence.

“Run away with me.” Aelin balked at the invitation. Turning her head to look at Sam. He was looking back at her. “I know it’s insane; but just listen…” 

He stood from the bed, rummaging to find some pants. Aelin watched his movements as he made around the room gathering up papers and books, before he laid them on the bed in front of her. “I’ve done my research. We could head to the Southern Continent and with the money I have saved and the inheritance from Terrance I can buy us a house with enough land for horses, enough room to raise children. It would be perfect, and the Southern Continent is beautiful, I know you would love it, Aelin.” Of course she would love it. And she was sure she would love the life that Sam was proposing, but in her soul she knew that it was a dream, one that would likely never be able to come true. She hated to ruin the bliss they had been in, hated the look on Sam’s face as he saw her hesitation. She shook her head once, clearing her mind, trying to think of the easiest way to say that his dream would always be a dream. But the words didn’t come. 

Sam spoke again, “I know it’s insane. And you would be giving up a lot, I know. But there are other people who can take the throne Aelin.” He took her hands in his, eyes wide with excitement. “People have given it up for less.” 

“What of my family, Sam?” Aelin stood then, grabbing the clothes that were strewn across the floor. “I love you Sam; you know that. But it’s one thing for me to be sneaking around with you here in Orynth, but to runaway from here completely?” She shook her head. “I could not do that to my family… to my kingdom.” Sam’s face fell, she saw the defeat in his features. “Is it not enough that we have each other right now?” 

“Of course it is. But then what happens when you have to marry, when you have to produce heirs for the throne?” This had been a conversation she had wanted to avoid at all costs. She would be expected to marry, and her family would certainly not let her marry Sam. There was also the other small problem of her immortality. “We pretend that everything is perfect, we have our stolen nights, and we ignore the dark cloud that has been over us since we began this thing.” 

“Can we not do this now? Please.” Aelin put on her shoes. “I have to go. Guests are arriving tomorrow and I need some sleep.”

“So we’re not going to talk about this?” He looked so hurt, so devastated at her leaving. 

“Not tonight.” She kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you soon.” 

And then she was gone.

[journalxxx]

By Hook or by Crook (6)

Hey kid. I’d like to have a chat with you, if you’re up to it. Would you be free this afternoon?

Izuku idly reread the text and the brief exchange that followed as he whiled away the few minutes left before the agreed time for the meeting. 

Just a little over twenty-four hours before, Izuku had had a minor stroke at the mere thought of All Might texting him about a trip to the police station. Just a little over twenty-four hours before, he would have soared straight to cloud nine at the thought of All Might texting him ‘to have a chat’. It was a pity that the only emotion he could muster at the moment was a vague sense of stunned apathy.

“I’ll get that.” He informed no one in particular when the bell rang. The man installing what probably were legalized viruses on his laptop gave him an odd look, and his mother replied something indistinguishable from the bathroom. Izuku shuffled out of his room and unlocked the front door.

“Young Midoriya. Good afternoon.” All Might had reverted to his laid-back cargo pants and t-shirt attire. He seemed more tired and subdued as well, more like on the day Izuku had met him. 

“Good afternoon.” Izuku gestured at him to come inside, which he did with a quiet thanks. He did not remove his shoes though, and he stopped only few steps in upon spotting the second man fiddling with the landline in the living room.

“Ah. Busy day, is it?” All Might acknowledged the technician with a knowing nod. He then turned towards Izuku and tilted his head towards the front door. “Say, how about we take a walk? I bet your house feels crowded enough without me imposing as well.”

His mother’s head peeked into the hallway. All Might greeted her with a little wave and a weirdly embarrassed grin.

“I’m going for a walk.” Izuku announced as he slipped his shoes on.

“Uhm, are you sure?” Her eyes shifted between All Might and him with ill-concealed unease.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Izuku cut short. He wasn’t in the mood for another discussion. “See you later.”

He strode out of the building without hesitation. He made his way down the stairs, through the parking lot, all the way to the sidewalk before stopping. All Might caught up with him a minute later, after lingering on the threshold to exchange a few words with his mother that Izuku decided he did not care about. He also decided to ignore the pointed stare the hero aimed at him when he finally reached him.

“Anywhere you’d like to go in particular?” All Might asked after a beat, gazing up and down the small road.

“Not really. You?”

“Any place is fine by me. I need to get reacquainted with this city, its layout is quite different from how I remember it.”

Right, All Might had just moved in. And Musutafu had likely changed a lot since his U.A. days… That would have been a tremendously interesting topic for a chat, Izuku could feel the questions popping up in his head in droves, despite everything. Unfortunately, he was under no illusion that what All Might wanted from him could be that kind of casual conversation.

They picked a random direction and started walking. For almost five minutes, they strolled without breathing a word. It wasn’t nearly as awkward as it would have been under any normal circumstances.

“Had another rough night?” All Might said eventually.

“Mh.” Easy guess. The bags under Izuku’s eyes would soon rival the fixed shadows circling the hero’s if he didn’t manage to rein in his sleeping schedule soon. The nightmares had ceased, thankfully, but his head had been so full of disjointed and clashing thoughts and memories that he hadn’t managed to catch some shut eye until so late that it had become early. 

Nothing made sense. Everything made too much sense. In hindsight, it felt strange that Izuku had never contemplated the possibility himself. It also felt absurd that it could be true though, instead of some sort of huge misunderstanding. That his father could be-

“Oh, before I forget. The villain is faring much better.”

“Uh? What?” Izuku blinked.

“The sludge villain whose quirk you returned.” All Might graced him with a gentle smile. “I heard he was already mostly coherent by last night, and as of few hours ago he was firmly denying ever bearing any ‘serious’ ill intent towards you and your friend, demanding to see his lawyer and complaining about the quality of the lunch he was served.”

Guilt needled Izuku’s stomach upon realizing that the villain’s plight had completely escaped his mind since his return home from the police station. How poorly committed his sympathy was. “Oh. That’s… good, I guess?”

“We guess.” All Might chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve dealt with another incident that badly in years, but I’m glad that no one suffered any permanent damage, at least. And thank you again for bringing the matter to a close in my stead.”

“It’s hardly your fault if things went the way they did. But… yeah, I’m glad he’s okay and that it’s over.” Now if only that hadn’t sparked a much worse and much more scarring mishap, at least for Izuku… “Are you all right, by the way?”

“Me?” 

“Yeah. Have you managed to see a doctor yet? About, uh…” Izuku pointed at his own mouth, unsure how to describe the attack the man had suffered the day before, the likes of which Izuku had only seen in movies and cartoons, usually from people sporting deadly and gory upper body wounds. 

All Might laughed with inexplicable, genuine mirth. “Oh, don’t worry! I wasn’t playing it cool when I said I was fine. It’s just a thing that happens. Usually it isn’t quite as, uh, dramatic, but it really is nothing concerning.”

“But… you hadn’t even used your quirk…” Izuku could not fathom how spraying blood like a fountain on a presumably regular basis couldn’t warrant seeking any kind of medical attention, but the hero waved off his objection with finality.

“Trust me, it’s fine. More importantly...“ All Might wasn’t looking at him. He seemed deeply focused in memorizing as much as he could of his surroundings, peering here and there at street nameplates, buildings, alleys… manholes too, amusingly. But the low and soft quality of his tone made it clear that he wasn’t asking just out of politeness. “What about you, kid? How are you?”

Izuku dropped his gaze to his feet and shrugged. It was an accurate answer, actually. He’d spent so many hours torturing himself with doubts and grief and confusion that at some point his brain had sort of… ran out of energy to spare for emotions. He supposed it wasn’t the worst response he could have had. Stolid empty-headedness was largely preferable to the scorching waves of betrayal, impending doom and overbearing dismay he’d sampled the day before.

“I imagine how difficult all this must be for you.“ All Might went on, just as tactfully. “Have you talked with your mother?”

Oh, scratch that. He was still capable of feeling something. His mother was enough of a sore topic to make him clench his fists. “...Yeah. I have.”

“...I don’t think-”

“She knew.” Yeah, he was still angry. It bubbled in his chest like boiling tar, thick and sticky and suffocating.

“She told you that?” 

“I heard you three talking about it last night. I was listening from outside the living room.”

“What?!” All Might seemed genuinely shocked. It hadn’t been Izuku’s proudest moment, admittedly, but let’s be honest, what else was he supposed to do? Pretend that they weren’t discussing life-changing revelations just few meters away from his bed? He was only human. All Might slapped a large hand on his face and dragged it down alongside his pointy features with a groan. “Oh, come on…”

“She knew, and she never told me.” His nails were digging painfully in his palms and- oh great, now he was getting teary again. He’d held it together for the whole day and now he was going to lose it five minutes after All Might had showed up. For the third or fourth time in as many days. Sure, why not? It wasn’t like he’d managed to retain any sort of dignity since the very moment he’d met his idol. Why bother now? “S-She’s known since- since before marrying him- however that happened… I j-just...”

All Might regarded him silently for a moment. “...Things like these look very different from an outside perspective. Especially to someone as young as you are. It’s very easy to judge, and even easier to misjudge.”

“But she knew he was a criminal - one who would not even consider changing his ways for his family - and she… wanted him around anyway? Why would she do that?! It’s- I wouldn’t want an unrepentant villain still involved in illegal business around my son! He’d be... a bad influence, at the very least!”

“Before yesterday, have you ever thought that he could be having a bad influence on you?”

“Uh? No, I… I didn’t know that he was… I never… questioned...”

All Might sighed deeply. “Your father is a notoriously charismatic man. He’s always been particularly adept at coaxing people to his side without open coercion, but with simple, well-aimed words. You never suspected that he may have been acting in his own best interest while offering or withholding certain information from you, although it may seem obvious in hindsight. I bet he managed to instil the same trust in your mother, despite what she knew about him.”

“I…” Izuku rubbed away the tears flowing freely down his cheeks. He couldn’t understand. He just couldn’t. And it tore at him. “W-Was it because of the money? She never... I-I thought we were good, she n-never said anything… I-If I’d known, I would have… I wouldn’t have asked for… s-so many things, I-”

“I highly doubt that a few toys and games could have had that big of an impact on the family budget. There’s no reason for you to beat yourself up over anything.” All Might slipped his hands in his pockets, sympathy plain in his sunken eyes. “Your mother found herself in a very tricky situation, through no real fault of her own. She navigated it as best as she could, and I’m sure your well-being was her top priority. Seeing the healthy and upright young man you’ve grown into, I’d say she handled it admirably.”

“...I know.” Izuku knew it, really, he understood that. But… he’d always seen his mother as just about the most transparent, honest, sensible and sensitive person on Earth. And it turned out she didn't… exactly… meet that standard, however idealistic. It had been a blow, on top of everything else, one that had left him without a real, fully trustworthy figure when he most needed it. “I know that, but… she should have told me. At some point. There’s no excuse for not doing that.” 

“Perhaps. It’s hard to predict the negative impact that such a confession may have on a younger child, but perhaps she should have.” The hero conceded. “I’d refrain from handing down verdicts though. You kept some secrets of your own from her. You hid your quirk-”

“But that’s not the same thing! Not even close! A quirk isn’t as big an omission as your father being a criminal!” Izuku snapped, then immediately hunched his back in regret, his tone losing some volume but not its bitterness. “And, you know, maybe, maybe I wouldn’t have listened to him so readily if someone had warned me that he isn’t exactly an upstanding citizen!”

“Look, it isn’t my place to comment on how things stand or should stand between you and your mother, or how you should behave, but… if there’s one thing you need to keep in mind - and please do keep it in mind, at all times - is that the one person who bears absolute and doubtless blame is your father. That’s the source of all the lies that have been fed to you. Lies and deception are… what he does, really. What he’s always done. You and your mother are both victims in all this.”

Izuku sniffed and wiped some tears and snot on his sleeve. It was gross, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. There was a logic to All Might’s words, but no logic justified the staggering duplicity that had just turned his life upside down. The unfairness of it all was simply too much to accept. 

The boy looked up when All Might poked him on the shoulder to catch his attention.

“Speaking of which…” All Might swerved to the left, entering a smaller and more secluded lane leading away from the more trafficked routes. He had resumed his perusal of the area, and his expression had regained a firm, almost steely edge. Izuku followed him. “What I wanted to talk to you about concerns what transpired about your father, and how it will affect your life going forwards.”

No surprise there. The two plain-clothes agents that had shown up that morning, no doubt mourning the loss of their well-deserved Sunday rest, had been clear enough of a warning of some upheaval to the Midoriyas’ routine. All Might’s vague text had only cemented Izuku’s expectations of further disruptions.

“I hate being the bearer of bad news, but it is imperative for you to understand the gravity of your father’s position… especially to prevent him from enacting any sort of manipulation or control on you in the future.” The hero began. “The man you know as ‘Hisashi Midoriya’ goes under many aliases, so much so that we are still unaware of his real name. He has committed an astounding variety of serious crimes, over the course of decades. Even if your mother claims to be aware of his background, I assure you she doesn’t know the half of it.”

Izuku physically curled up under the weight of those words. It was… even worse than they thought? His father sounded more and more like some obscenely powerful yakuza boss or something, which was just… just...

“The police will be gathering and analyzing as much evidence as possible to find clues leading to his current location and activities. All possible forms of communications between you and him will be monitored. Your phones will be bugged, and any electronic devices you own will be fitted with tracking software. Your mail will be examined before delivery.” All Might paused, assessing Izuku’s lack of a reaction to his speech. “Did they tell you about this already?”

“S-Some of it, yeah.” Izuku’s gaze dropped to the asphalt again. The dried tears made the skin on his cheeks and around his eyes itch. “Will there be cameras too? Inside the house?”

“I haven’t heard about cameras. I don’t think so. Seeing as your father never set foot in your house, there doesn’t seem to be any reason to surveil it that closely from the inside. The outside will be watched, so we’d notice anyway if he tried to approach it.”

“...Okay.” 

“...I know it’s an oppressive situation. No one likes having their privacy invaded. But know that the professionals in charge of monitoring you are utterly uninterested in you specifically, or in whatever you do with your free time, as long as it isn’t anything outrageously illegal.” All Might’s voice softened again, although not enough for Izuku to dare raise his eyes from the ground. “I hear they are especially unconcerned about peculiar web searches and piracy perpetrated by bored adolescents, and some such things. Anything that isn’t strictly related to the case at hand won’t ever make it into any reports.”

“Mh.” A couple of small mercies were better than none, Izuku guessed. He really couldn’t muster neither enthusiasm nor gratitude for them at the moment though.

“Ah, about this… Those monthly phone calls your mother mentioned are particularly relevant for the police. They are likely their best bet in pinpointing your father’s position.” All Might paused. “For that reason, we would appreciate your cooperation on that front.”

Izuku’s brain suddenly jolted into activity, a myriad of spy movies and comics coming to his mind and offering plenty of distressing scenarios he could be potentially thrusted into. “You mean like… you want me to help you find him? Get him to drop hints about where he is, or- or asking him to go somewhere where you can set up a trap, or-” Izuku looked back up at the man, without bothering to conceal the pure terror that such prospects filled him with.

“What? No, of course not!” All Might exclaimed, surprised. “I mean, it isn’t out of discussion that we may try to actively lure him out at some point, but that would take extensive preparations and precautions on our part. We’d need to gather more intel and agents, recruit other heroes first… We definitely aren’t considering taking any such steps yet.”

“O-Oh… okay…” He let out the tiniest sigh of relief. No wild capers… for now...

“Besides, even if we were, we wouldn’t use a child as bait! Your mother would be much more suited to assist us. Any request from her would have more sway on your father, and she would handle the pressure much better.”

“So… what do you want me to do then?”

All Might shrugged. “Just keep up appearances. Continue having your monthly calls with him as if nothing happened, so as not to alert him that something might be wrong.”

That wasn’t that big of a demand, objectively speaking, but... it didn’t seem feasible either. Izuku’s grasp on his own emotions was tenuous at best at the moment, and his father had always been exceptionally perceptive to his state. He really didn’t think he could endure up to two hours of small talk about heroes, quirks, school and assorted pleasantries without having some sort of breakdown halfway through. Izuku gulped, bracing himself for the inevitable scolding of his cowardice. 

“...I-I’m sorry, I’m not sure if I can do that.”

Surprisingly, All Might wasn’t put off in the slightest. “In that case, you could ask your mother to pretend you got hurt in some way that prevents you from speaking. Bad tooth, removed tonsils, broken jaw, you name it. That would earn you at least another month of silence and… hopefully the investigation will make some progress in that time, or you’ll grow used enough to the situation to face him with a cool head.”

That was a reasonable approach to the issue. It was a relief to know that someone else was putting some thinking into all this in Izuku’s place, now that his already flimsy decisional autonomy had stumbled into the metaphorical equivalent of a bear trap. “...I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you.” All Might nodded, strangely unperturbed by Izuku's less than proactive attitude. “Other than what I’ve mentioned, you will also be followed wherever you go whenever you aren’t at home or at school-”

“W-What?” Izuku instinctively glanced around, envisioning slow-moving cars or shady individuals with sunglasses and holed newspapers observing him from bushes.

The corners of All Might’s mouth twitched upwards. “You will not be aware of it, nor will anyone else, of course. It will have no actual impact on your daily life, like all the other measures we’ve already covered.”

“But why?” Izuku griped, his heart sinking so deep that it would soon pierce through the Earth’s mantle. “My father isn’t going to suddenly drop by to say hello, you just said so yourself!”

“It’s for your own protection too.” All traces of humor vanished instantly from the hero’s demeanor. “Your father is no stranger to violence. In the past, he has resorted to brutal and immoral means to dispose of his enemies, and... I’m sorry to say that he would not hesitate to employ such methods against his own family, if he deemed it a danger to his own safety.”

Izuku couldn’t hold back a little hysterical chuckle that sounded pitiful to his own ears. “That… sounds a bit exaggerated, doesn’t it? I-I get that he’s a bad guy, but… I really don’t think he’d do something like that to us. H-He’s never even raised his voice with me, never...”

“Midoriya. I beg you to believe me when I say that you can’t trust anything of what you think you know about your father.” All Might stopped to glare intently at a narrow, dingy alley littered with trash bags. “He is dangerous. Extraordinarily so. Tsukauchi is pushing for having further safety measures enforced for your family, and until those have been granted, please be very aware of your surroundings at all times. Refrain from taking unfamiliar routes, and stick to crowded areas whenever you can. I don’t want to scare you, but even having eyes on you at all times is no guarantee of a timely intervention, under unfavorable circumstances.”

“Is it… really that bad?” Izuku breathed, gutted by the unexpected harshness of the picture painted by All Might’s words. It was… inconceivable, still. His father, deliberately hurting him? His father, whose cutting sarcasm was just about the only vaguely hurtful trait Izuku had ever witnessed? His father, a hardened, soulless criminal averse to puns and All Might trivia, and yet always so willing to let Izuku torture him with both? His father, ambushing him from dark corners? “Is he really that bad?”

“Yes.”

“What did he…” Izuku started asking, only to trail off. It was a pointless question, with a clear answer. It had been buzzing in his head for the whole night, blindingly obvious by now. “...He steals quirks, doesn't he? That’s what he does. He... maims people for…”

“I’m afraid he isn’t nearly as conscientious as you in regards to-” All Might cut himself off with a visible flinch. “Wait, he told you about his quirk? You know it’s the same as yours?”

“Y-Yes.”

“You didn’t mention that to us.” Bright pinpricks of blue were suddenly trained on Izuku with piercing intensity. It kept catching him off guard, how both of the Symbol of Peace’s towering forms could switch from amicable to intimidating at the drop of a dime.

“I-I thought… He said it was a secret- one of his confidential matters. I’ve always thought he was some sort of… prison guard or undercover agent…” God, how unbelievably stupid it all sounded now. Izuku had never felt more childish. 

“...That goes to show…” All Might mumbled, barely audibly. It unsettled Izuku. It went to show what? His father’s cunning? Izuku’s naivety? Or… surely not that he could be hiding something on purpose...

“I-I’m… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I had no idea how- how serious- I’d never-”

“Mh?” The hero blinked at him, as if emerging from a private musing. “Ah, I mean… There could be some merit to the other thing I wanted to ask of you.”

Izuku just waited, barely able to withstand the acuity of the hero’s gaze without shrinking. After a few tense moments, All Might let out a sigh and resumed walking, his eyes wandering back to the street ahead.

“To be frank… Personally, I don’t think we’re going to achieve much from all these investigations.” He grimaced, as if regretting those words as soon as they left his mouth. “Not for lack of trying, mind you. Tsukauchi is an immensely capable and dedicated officer, he’ll pursue each lead as thoroughly as humanly possible, but… Your father knows how to cover his tracks. Phone calls, payments, mail, blatant cues like those have never brought us close to him in the past, not once. To his associates, yes, to his… ‘aftermaths’, yes. But never to him personally. His circumstances were always shrouded in impenetrable security. I doubt this case will be any different.”

Buildings gave way to the open horizon. They had reached the end of the street, which merged into a largest road running along the coast. They crossed it, and kept going on the opposite sidewalk, looking down on a thin stretch of sand separating them from the sea.

“That said… he did leave one huge trail for us to find this time. A whole family, out in the open.” All Might’s eyes returned to the boy pensively. “A breakthrough like this, if you’ll pass me the term, is unprecedented. The most obvious leads could turn out to be dead ends, but maybe there is something to be found in the smaller things.”

“The smaller things?”

The man gestured vaguely. “He’s been talking to you, has he not? To you and your mother both, for over a decade. Not that often, but… hell, he even told you about his quirk, and one would expect him to be very tight-lipped about that. There might be more to dig up. Details he may have deemed unimportant, or accidentally let slip. Hints. Small things.”

Izuku was finally catching the drift. “I’m really sorry, but… I know you probably can’t take my word for it, but I really don’t know anything about what he does, or ever did. He never let anything slip about his… his ‘job’...”

“Of course not, that’s not what I’m referring to. The thing is…” The hero clucked his tongue in frustration. “We know so little about the man himself as well. His identity, his background, his history… We know next to nothing about him, and what little we do know, we were only able to discover through very unconventional means. If there’s a chance to glean one more shred of information hidden among the fabrications, I think it’s worth pursuing it.”

“So the police are going to question us about… fourteen years’ worth of chit-chats?” That seemed like a disproportionate endeavor for something as volatile as the possibility of parsing an ounce of truth. Exactly how desperate were they to catch this increasingly perplexing father of his?

“That’s the gist of it, yes. And ideally, we would like to interview you separately, to avoid that either of you could, ehr… inadvertently censor yourselves about information not known by the other-”

“Like my quirk. Or dad’s ‘activities’.“ Izuku muttered.

“...Yes. Things like those.” All Might paused, then cleared his throat. “Well… given the delicate nature of the case, we are trying to keep the workforce to a minimum, and involve as few people as possible. This ought to speed up coordination and briefing, as well reduce the risk of information leaks. Tsukauchi will be personally questioning your mother… as well as direct the entire operation. He’s quite the multitasker. And, well… since technically I’m already involved and up to speed and I won’t be contributing to the proper detective work in any capacity… we thought I might take care of hearing your side of the story.”

A little Oh was the whole extent of Izuku’s reaction as the hero’s words washed over him. All Might seemed a little discouraged by that.

“We figured it might put you a little more at ease… Talking with someone you’re already familiar with, instead of a brand new face. And, ehr… well, you mentioned being a fan, so…” He elaborated, his hands drawing half-formed shapes in the air to underline his words. He looked… almost nervous? “It’s just a possibility, of course. If you’d rather be entrusted to a proper member of the force, it’s well within your rights to request that.”

Izuku did not miss the underlying meaning of that winding speech. It was within his rights to request who he wanted to be interviewed by, not if. 

“Do I even have a choice?” All Might’s guilty grimace was all the reply Izuku needed. “...No, sorry, I… That’s a stupid question. I’ve no reason to refuse either.” Surely not the faint sense of betrayal knocking on his conscience at that very moment. Could he even feel bad about betraying someone who’d never been honest with him in the first place? 

“...I know it’s far from an enticing perspective.” All Might rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “It’s going to eat up a lot of your time, and people are never exactly eager to ‘snitch’ on relatives, even when they’re criminals. But I really think it could be of great help to us.”

So that was the role Izuku was going to have in this whole mess, that of a very oddly-shaped piece in a very complicated puzzle. It could be worse, he supposed. Being stuck in a room talking with the number one hero for hours could hardly be considered a real punishment. Were the topic of the conversation literally anything else, it’d be a dream coming true, even. He should push that angle on himself, Izuku pondered. Maybe he could talk himself into enjoying the whole thing, in some way. 

“Since I’m no policeman, I’m amenable to reward you for the time and effort you’ll generously dedicate to the task with suitable bribing. I was thinking snacks, if that doesn’t come off as too cheap.” All Might continued with a tentative grin, although his attempt at levity didn’t stick the landing. “No? How about, ehr… All Might merch?” For some reason, his face scrunched up as if the suggestion physically pained him.

Izuku sighed. There was no point in fighting the inevitable, was there? “It’s fine. I’ll do it.”

“...Thank you, that is very good to hear.” All Might smiled with evident relief. He patted Izuku’s shoulder encouragingly. “I’ll say, you’re taking all this a lot better than I was expecting. For all the crying, you have quite the resilient attitude. Heroic, even!”

Izuku let out a half-choked sob. Oh. Oh, wow, that realization hurt. He hadn’t thought about that since… had it really only been a couple of days since making it into U.A. had been his biggest concern in life? And now…

“Ehr… Sorry, did I say something wrong?” All Might asked when faced with the new bout of tears streaming down the boy’s cheeks. Izuku shook his head.

“S-Sorry, it’s just… I-I guess that’s the closest I’ll ever get to becoming a hero now, uh?”

“What?”

“There’s no way they’ll let me anywhere near a hero course now, is there? My father told me it was basically impossible before, and now...”

“Your father told you that you couldn’t be a hero? Your father who is a villain?” All Might gave him a pointed look. “You may want to start reevaluating some of the nuggets of wisdom he’s been imparting on you in light of the new revelations, kid.”

“But he’s right, isn’t he?” Izuku griped. “It’s even worse now that he turned out to be a villain! A bad one too! Abusing the same overpowered quirk I have, it’s just… too great a bias, isn’t it?”

All Might seemed caught off guard, then he frowned and looked away without replying. There it was, the naked truth. Not even an attempt at a rebuttal. Out of discussion. Izuku’s dreams scattered to the wind, without hope of salvation.

“Y-You know, I actually thought… I could work my way around it.” Izuku continued among the sniffles, dropping his gaze to the ground. “I thought I could just pretend to be quirkless. F-For a while. Pass the test like that, make some friends, get… get trusted as a hero because of my work. A-and then, then one day, just… after everyone trusted me, I thought I could come out clean. And start using my quirk for good. I thought it could work. Get others to know me before my quirk. B-But it’s never going to happen now. The police know, the school will know.”

“...I must say that building your budding hero career on a lie isn’t the most solid plan I’ve ever heard.” There was no accusation in All Might’s tone, but his words still cut deep.

“I know…” Izuku bit his lip. He’d known, but what alternatives did he have?

“But I guess we can’t all carelessly parade our true selves before public scrutiny, can we?” The man sighed, scratching his own head. “You are right about one thing though. Actions do speak louder than words. You might not be able to talk your way out of your… delicate circumstances, but factual demonstrations of good intentions can go a long way.”

“That’s… That’s all I’m asking for!” Izuku’s head snapped up, desperately latching onto that single lifeline. “I would do whatever it takes to be allowed to try!”

“Well, I’d say you’re already on the right path then. Cooperating with the police is definitely a good step to establish good faith.” All Might flashed him a sheepish smile. ”...I’m not saying that just to grind my own axe, I swear.”

“Do you think it would be enough for U.A. to let me attempt the test?”

“You want to apply to U.A?” The hero seemed strangely surprised.

“Yeah. Is it… not a good idea?”

All Might took a few moments to reply. “...It might work in your favor, actually. U.A. is famous for the degree of self-determination afforded to its management by the government. If you’re worried about external interference, U.A. is your best bet to avoid it.”

A tiny, shy flicker of hope ignited in Izuku’s chest.  

“...I’ve known the principal of U.A High School for a long time. He’s a bit of an eccentric, but one with an impeccable work ethic.” All Might resumed after a moment. “He’s not the kind of person to let unfair judgement undermine his institute. Especially if it prevented an aspiring hero he deems worthy from being appointed his student.”

“You mean that…?”

“I mean that if you do plan to apply to U.A. you could have a chance of making it in, regardless of your unfavorable background. If you pass the admission test, that is.” All Might suddenly stopped walking. “...What is this?”

Izuku blinked, ripped out of his thoughts, and took in the portion of the seafront they had reached. Wow, he really hadn’t been paying any attention to where they were going, had he? “...Oh. It’s, ehr… an illegal dumping site, I guess.”

“Really?” All Might commented, eyeing the sad, disregarded No Dumping sign welcoming its disobedient visitors.

“Yeah. The currents always bring flotsam to this area, so it was never clean in the first place. And then people started taking advantage of it…”

“And no one ever comes here to pick up any of this?” Strangely, the sight and the slight stench of mounds of rusting metal and assorted junk didn’t bother All Might, who climbed down the few steps separating the sidewalk from the beach.

“No, the city administration never took an interest. Everyone else just avoids this spot altogether. It’s been getting worse over the years.” Izuku had no idea why All Might was studying the piles of dismissed appliances as if they might hold some hidden treasures within, but he felt rather dumb for accidentally introducing this to the hero, of all places in Musutafu, as his first sightseeing landmark. “Sorry, I should have brought us somewhere else.”

“It’s fine.” Undaunted, All Might wandered deeply into the maze of refuse, with Izuku ruefully tagging along. “A safe, handy spot where a passing criminal in a hurry could stash some loot, don’t you think? Good to know.”

“Oh. I didn’t think about that.” Right. That was what it meant for a hero to know his turf, right? It went beyond street names and layouts. It meant to be aware of how each location could lend itself to certain criminal activities, what places could make for good improvised hideouts, where civilians were more or less likely to be gathered...

“How were you planning on passing the admission test?” All Might asked when they reached the water’s edge, eyes fixed on the waves crashing on the sand.

“Uhm. Well, I’ve already started reviewing the subjects listed in the syllabus…”

“I was referring to the practical session, actually.”

“Oh, uhm… Well, I tried looking for information about it online, but there doesn’t seem to be any. Apparently it’s U.A.’s policy to bind all participants to non-disclosure. They say that observing how potential candidates react to unexpected situations is part of the evaluation process, so…”

All Might looked at Izuku, his expression blank. “Yes. So?”

“Ehr.” Suddenly Izuku felt extremely on the spot. “W-Well, without knowing what I’m getting into, I don’t really have any specific strategies in mind.”

All Might cocked his head with a slight frown. “What about generic strategies? What skills were you going to capitalize on?”

“I… Well… I thought I’d just… try my best. Improvise and use my head.”

All Might blinked. “...That is what everyone else is going to do too. Except everyone else will also have a quirk to rely on, while you weren’t going to use yours. That’s a massive disadvantage right there.”

“Yes, I know.” Izuku clasped his hand behind his back in shame. That was an excellent point, one that somehow no one had ever raised with him. Everyone, including his father, instantly shot down his idea as soon it left his mouth. No one had ever asked him to elaborate on the practical details. Which he had sort of… failed to sort out so far.

“And you have no notion as to how to bridge that gap.”

“Not… not yet.”

All Might crossed his arms, sporting possibly the harshest expression Izuku had seen on him yet. It made his stomach lurch unpleasantly. “...Are you serious about this hero thing? Are you sure it isn’t just a passing fancy?”

“It isn’t! It absolutely isn’t!” Izuku answered immediately. “I just… I don’t even know if I’m allowed to bring any tools, or-”

“Tools?” All Might scoffed as he walked back to him and gave him a critical once-over. “Looks to me you already have all the tools you need, if you deigned to consider them.”

“Uh?”

“You have arms, don’t you? Hands. Legs. Arguably a head.” All Might poked at each listed limb with a bony finger as he started circling him like a starved shark. “All in working order, yes?”

“Y-Yes- I mean, I’m not ill or anything, but-”

“Then why aren’t you trying to capitalize on those? A quirk is an important part of a person, but it’s not the only one! You have a body, use it!”

“Ah, yes, I…” Izuku gulped. “It would make sense to, uh, try to get a little stronger, I guess…”

“You guess? ” All Might was reaching yet unexplored levels of visible exasperation, which was saying something considering the whole secret-villainous-father debacle. Izuku didn’t know if getting the number one hero so worked up about his little pipe dream should be considered flattering or shameful. “Being a hero isn’t a desk job! Running fast, lifting heavy weights, enduring fatigue are not optional skills! No matter what quirk they have, no hero worth their salt can neglect to keep in excellent shape!”

“R-Right. Of course. It’s just that, uh…” Izuku fidgeted. “I’m not really good at that sort of… physical stuff. I’ve always been a bit on the scrawny side, and I get tired easily, and I’m no good at brawling-”

“Despite training?”

“...I’ve never followed a proper training regimen, but…”

All Might rubbed his hands on his face. “Kid, unless they have a physical-enhancing quirk, people aren’t just born strong. They get strong by training - do I really have this state this out loud?”

Izuku was fairly sure his face was about to spontaneously combust. Of all the things he’d expected to happen in his near future, being scolded by All Might in person for his lack of commitment to physical activity was not one of them. “Y-You are right. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… to disrespect you or your profession…”

“You didn’t, I was just… You seemed passionate about this two days ago...” All Might trailed off. “My point is that all the equity in the world won’t net you a place in U.A. if you don’t pass that test. And if you really are serious about raising your chances of becoming a hero, you have to give this some serious thought, and soon. You can cram months of study into weeks if you have the brains for it, but you cannot do the same with workouts.”

Izuku willed himself to hold his head up straighter. “I-I will. Thank you for your advice, it makes a lot of sense.”

The silence that descended between them was more than a little awkward.

“I’ve pestered you enough for today, haven’t I?” All Might eventually said as he took off towards the sidewalk. “Let’s go back.”

Izuku trailed behind the hero as they made their way among the waste, and almost bumped on him when he slowed to a stop to stare at a particularly high pile of contorted, rusty scraps.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, I was just thinking that… What I need is a quiet, lonely place to have some private chats with you, and what you need is a way to work up some muscle and rack up some good karma, right?” All Might scratched his chin as he scanned the heaps of trash hiding the rest of the city from view. “...Say, how do you feel about community service?”

[cherrywoes]

prologue. (acanthus.)

SAKURA HARUNO LOST THE ability to use medical ninjutsu when she turned twenty.

There had been no warning, no sputtering of her chakra, no imminent sign that she was about to lose the very foundation that her newfound strength had been built upon. She woke up one morning to her squad members with their throats slit, one just barely clinging on to life—a Hyuuga, her pretty lavender eyes wide with shock and desperation—and when Sakura sealed her hands over her pale throat, intent to close the wound as best she could and haul ass back to Konoha, there was nothing. No pale green chakra to flood her systems, no pinpoint accuracy of healing down to the very cells, nothing—just razor sharp chakra, cutting so deeply into her teammate’s throat that it went far enough to decapitate her completely.

Sakura watched the light fade from her eyes with pale pink strands of hair blowing into her face on a warm, humid breeze.

She continued this for some time—accidentally murdering her teammates when they were on the brink of death. Fear kept her from telling Tsunade. Ego kept her from revealing she was not, in fact, the prized healer of Konohagakure anymore. Arrogance forbade her from admitting any harm she had done. Sakura made herself forge the stories of her teammates’ deaths when she couldn’t sleep, their eyes haunting her dreams and her not so kind hands wrapped around their throats. It kept her up at night, so every afternoon, when she returned from narrowly avoiding every single healing session that was tossed her way at the clinic, after pushing them off on overworked nurses and doctors on overtime, she took enough sleeping pills to kill a horse three times over just to rest.

The people in her dreams were faceless, then, and easier to deal with when she woke up.

“Forehead, you look like you’re about to pass out.” Ino’s long blonde hair was a bit too bright in the sunlight. It was shinier than it had ever been, flourishing under the happiness of a successful pregnancy. She glowed, and it was even in her personality. She was chipper, far more perky, and while her appetite was something to be feared, it didn’t stop her observative eye from catching on to the dark circles underneath her friend’s eyes or the sallow look of her face. “Are you alright? Is Tsunade making you run night shifts again?”

Sakura sighed and rested her forehead on the cool marble tabletop. It felt nice against her heated skin; heated as if it was under the sun of the Suna desert. Suna, where she had managed to disembowel her adorable teammate instead of stitching her leaking intestines back together. Suna, where she had been forced to kill her second teammate who had witnessed it to hide her secret and spread his limbs amongst their enemies before returning home. Suna, where that ninja probably still remained, rotting in the hot sun and being picked apart by vultures.

Ino, a concerned hum exiting her mouth, pressed a hand to her forehead. “You’re burning up! Sakura, how long have you been like this?”

She didn’t answer and pressed her cheek further against the table. Her hair, long, longer than she had ever had it before, the ends brushing past her waist, stuck to the side of her face and neck, clinging with sweat. Her thoughts were muddied and sluggish. An image of a face flashed through her mind—cute, chubby with baby fat, and eyes of the lightest Yamanaka blue—in livid color, doused in vermillion red seconds later, Sakura’s rough hands held over her injured eyes.

“I’m so tired of this, Ino,” Sakura sighed. It was mumbled and nearly incoherent, but the blonde caught it anyways, pressing an ice cold cloth to her forehead. “I’m so tired of killing my teammates.”

“What?” Ino’s voice was tight. The lights around her warped in and out of focus. “Sakura, what did you just say?”

Sakura couldn’t answer. She slipped into darkness, the faces of her victims—her teammates—floating seamlessly through her dreams, as if they had never died at all.

Sakura spent the next four months in a cell. She was given subpar food—a multigrain bar, some vitamins, IV fluids to flush her system of the high doses of sleeping pills, water that tasted far too much like chlorine—and equally appalling care. When her chakra cuffs dug into her wrists, no one came to heal them, so they scarred over and opened back up in an endless repetition until they were permanent accessories to her skin, shiny and puckered and irritated. When her period did eventually come, spotty and unusually light at best, they gave her tiny packets of pads for her to stretch through months, and if she suffered several bacterial infections afterwards, they didn’t much care. Her hair had grown long and matted, unbrushed, and combing it with her fingers did nothing to help the endless matts and knots that had grown near her nape. Her clothes were the same ones she had gone in with, so they were dirty, threadbare, and practically dry rotting off of her body.

She felt she deserved it—this torture. She was only afforded the barest of luxuries—her food and IV—because she was, despite what she had done, the Hokage’s apprentice. Former apprentice now, she figured, since they had most likely discovered what she had done. Four months was enough to follow Sakura’s bloody trail all the way back to her twentieth birthday when she had been sent out on a mission. It was also enough to compare the discrepancies in her reports; enough to exhume the bodies of the dead and charge her with a dozen counts of murder, and recover the other bodies she had neglected to bring back.

When anyone did deign to visit her, it was to cross reference what she had said with the actual truth. She had no reason to lie, anymore, not when her little slip of the tongue in a delirious fever had gotten her caught in the first place.

“Haruka Hyuuga.” Sakura could recognize Kakashi even when he wore the ANBU mask and attempted to disguise his voice. His hair was impossible to hide—she had tried on several occasions to dye it, only for it’s unusual hue to spring back within a few days and nearly blow their cover. He was, at the moment, playing the role of Hound, but she knew once the mask was off he would be her former partner, former teacher, and broken hearted friend; because he, of all people, would believe it was his fault she had ended up in a cell just because she was too proud to say she was an awful human being. “Do you remember her?”

“Yes.” Sakura leaned back against the small wooden shelf that made up her bed. It was covered with a thin white sheet that wasn’t much in the way of comfort, but as a kunoichi it didn’t bother her like it would a normal civilian. She dragged her shoes across the concrete floor to break the lack of noise within her section of the underground jail cells. They had been ground down to the latex-polyester sole when she paced in boredom or dropped her heels and skidded them as she walked. “She was the last one… Someone had gouged out her eyes. Or tried to, I think; it was all a blur. It didn’t matter in the end, though. I couldn’t heal her.”

Kakashi—Hound—was quiet as he wrote something down in his tiny square notepad. “When did you first lose your medical ninjutsu?”

Her pale pink eyebrows furrowed. No one had bothered with this line of inquiry before, past merely wanting the knowledge of when she had lost it in the first place. Kakashi was usually there to interrogate her about her teammates, nothing more. “When I turned twenty; so, maybe six or seven months ago.”

“And you had no precursory signs beforehand to indicate you would lose it?”

“No.” She shook her head slowly and reached for the small metal tin cup he had placed in her cell. She was surprised to find it was filled with her favorite drink—apple juice, of all things—and cherished the tiny little sips of flavor she was granted. “It just… happened. I was healing—or I thought I was?—and then it wasn’t… healing. It was cutting, sharp as a razor’s edge. I couldn’t have stopped it if I had wanted to by then.”

“But you continued going on missions after that, knowing you would hurt others in your attempts to use medical ninjutsu again.”

“I didn’t think that. That I would hurt them.” Sakura paused and admitted, so quietly it was barely a whisper,”I thought it would come back if I tried hard enough.”

More scribbling, this time a little slower than the previous. “I think you tried hard enough after the second person you killed.”

Hound stuffed the notepad into his white flak jacket. With a cursory nod to the guard standing just out of her field of view, he was gone, vanishing in a puff of smoke that had Sakura’s eyes watering.

“You know what they’re calling you, right?” The guard goaded when he was certain there was no one to hear him. Sakura closed her eyes; she didn’t want to know what they were saying about her out there. “They’re calling you ‘Ninja Killer Sakura’. Like teacher like student, huh?”

A few days later, her Strength of a Hundred seal was gone, as if it never existed in the first place. The vast amount of chakra she had stored within it was gone, spirited away from her body. No one had removed it from her; no one had sealed it while she had been asleep. It had just disappeared in the same way her medical ninjutsu had, in nearly the same fashion. The only clue she had that it had vanished was the faint tingling in her forehead, right between her brows—but something else was clearly there, because the next guard in her rotation was calling for a Nara guard before she could wonder what it was.

She found out, later, after being immobilized by a shadow technique and examined by a medic, that the symbol upon her forehead had changed into a crimson red spider lily. It was no larger than the diamond had been, but was more ornate and complex, with interlocking rings centered at the bottom and sun phases etched into said rings. When the rest of her chakra, the chakra she used to maintain her health, was sealed off because of it, she didn’t complain.

She deserved it, after all.

“I don’t know if I should kill you or slap you and kill you and revive you so I can kill you again.”

Her next visitor was Tsunade. She hadn’t expected her to visit her at all, much less come traipsing in her cell with clean clothes, a basin of water, shampoo, soap, new shoes, and a pair of scissors. While the Hokage was angry, Sakura wasn’t sure if it was her fondness for her keeping her alive or the fact that it would be fairly inconvenient for the Senju woman to kill her and dispose of her without the council’s input.

“What were you thinking, Sakura?” Tsunade whirled on her, scissors in hand. She watched them cautiously, fiddling with the scars on her wrists when they itched. “Really, I mean, what was going on inside your head? I had thought you of all people would be level headed and rational—”

“Rational went out the window when I lost the only power keeping me equal with Sasuke and Naruto, Shishou.” Sakura met her gaze head on, unflinching. Her eyes were dull mimicries of the once vibrant jade they used to be; she was tired, sick, and most of all, guilt was eating her alive. “I lost everything keeping me from drowning in the ranks of endless genin. And now I’ve even lost the Strength of One Hundred seal—I don’t think I’ve been level headed or rational for a while.”

“I see.” Tsunade sighed. “That’s good, then. We can plea insanity—”

“You’re helping me?” Sakura blurted incredulously, her first real show of emotion in months.

“Of course. It isn’t out of the goodness of my heart, though. If I had my way you’d rot down here for the rest of your life.” The Hokage crossed her arms and shrugged her shoulders. “But I owe a certain teacher of yours a favor, so after this we’ll be more than even. Now clean up and get dressed so I can cut your hair. Your trial starts today.”

When the cell door slammed behind her, Sakura picked up a clean rag—the cleanest thing she’d seen in months—and dipped it into the water. It was pleasantly cool as she ran it along her neck experimentally, bringing with it the grime and dirt of four months without a shower. When it came back visibly stained, she soaked it clean and lathered it with soap and got to work.

When she finished with her body and hair, the basin was almost pitch black. She wasn’t very surprised. She had seen worse when she returned home covered in dried blood, mud, dirt, and various other secretions she would rather not recall due to the pungent odor. She smelled like mint and watermelon, a scent she purchased personally before she had been put in prison, and she was momentarily comforted by the smell until the stench of mildew crept past it.

Tsunade had provided her with a simple long sleeved turtleneck she had seen many ANBU wear underneath their flak jackets and a pair of slightly too large pants that she quickly realized were men’s pants. She tucked the shirt as best she could with the sagging waistline and pulled on the standard issue civilian shoes (flats, uncomfortable on her high arches), and felt like an entirely new person. Clean, renewed, with clothes that didn’t smell like death and underwear that wasn’t blood stained for once, she felt a little bit of the old Sakura creep back in like a breath of fresh air.

When her former teacher returned and began hacking away at the giant knots in the back of her head, she allowed the faintest, most miniscule thread of hope to worm its way into her heart.

masterlist ❚ 一 (ichi)

a/n: this is my first attempt at writing something out of my comfort zone (at least moderately; it's very tame compared to what i normally write.) feedback is appreciated! i just let the words flow and didn't take it too seriously. <3