#someone destined for greatness having that stolen and having to turn to crime :(

[cowleyes]

e42 miles makes me hallucinate because when rio was talking to 1610 miles, she asks if he’s cosplaying one of the characters he likes which means this kid bounty hunter still enjoys art and comics the way miles does oh i’m sick…..

[lightsidetillidie]

Stolen, Part 1

Warnings: A bit of violence and cussing

Words: 1024

A/N: First time writing for Boba! Part 2 will have a lot more of him in it, but for now here you go!

Part 2

You sat in the cargo hold of the pirate’s ship, arms bound behind you and legs bound underneath you. You barely had time to react when those damn Weequay pirates grabbed you and forced you into their ship.

Of course this had to happen while Boba was out on a bounty. Which meant it would take a long time before someone noticed you were gone. He left Fennec to watch out for you, but since you were out of the palace in the market it would take time for her to notice as well.

Which meant these damn pirates had plenty of time to do what they wanted with you.

What they wanted seemed to be no more than hold you up as a prize. They stole the King of Tatooine’s girl. That in and of itself was something that would make a great tale over ale back at their pirate haven. Or at least to half of the pirates on the ship. The other half? They looked scared shitless.

They had reason to be. It was only a matter of time before the Slave I was in their proximity, with a very pissed off Boba on board. Those steel jawed pirates looked focused on getting to their destination as quickly as possible. You were probably going to be used as a bargaining chip, hoping to gain some influence in Boba’s vast crime ring.

But you knew better than them that that was never going to happen. You were covered in bruises from where they roughhoused you into their ship. Once inside, you were a little too mouthy for their tastes and got a solid backhand to the face, which led to a bruised cheek and a busted lip. It must have been fun, they thought, beating up the enemy’s girl. You knew that once Boba saw those bruises on you, all hell would break loose.

“Not too long till we’re home,” one of the pirates guarding you said, clinking his glass next to his brothers. “Then we bring Fett to his knees.”

You rolled your eyes. If anyone was falling to their knees, it was the pirates.

The one saw your eye roll and walked over to you. He keyed in a combination to the cell and walked over. “Think something’s funny, princess?”

Oh no. Oh hell no. No one was allowed to call you that but Boba.

You glared daggers at the man, who knelt down to your level. “Not going to be so funny when you become a slave, is it?” You spit in the pirate’s face, which caused him to backhand you yet again. This one stung even worse against the already forming bruise, but you wouldn’t let him see that. You just continued your glaring.

Before he could make another snide remark, the ship lurched forward and fell out of hyperspace. The pirate left your cell and made sure the lock was secure behind him. Well shit, looks like they got you to their hideout. Fear began to grip at your chest and your breath was caught in your throat. Boba wasn’t able to save you. You would be thrown into a cell and abused, used as a mere bargaining chip. For once during this whole event, you felt scared.

The fear didn’t leave your body as the ships proximity sensors began to beep. Maybe some other band of pirates heard of your kidnapping and wanted you themselves? Were you about to become a game of hot potato between the pirates?

The man who was tormenting you scrambled up the stairs out of the cargo hold and the door was closed, leaving you in complete darkness.

The darkness had you terrified. You couldn’t see anything, let alone your own hand in front of your face. You were always scared of the dark, something you tried to work through being the king’s girl. Boba assured you that you didn’t need to do anything you didn’t want to; he would always be there to make sure you weren’t trapped in darkness. Deep in your chest you knew his ship had to be the one attacking the pirates, but there was still the fear that it was just another band of pirates here to take you for themselves.

You scooted back in the cell until you were in the corner of the room. The ship lurched and tilted and rocked and you had nothing to hold on to but yourself. One particular turn had you hitting the wall so hard you felt the breath get knocked out of your lungs. Eventually the movement stopped but was replaced with sounds of distant blaster fire.

You held yourself in the corner, nursing your bruised side and trying to ignore the darkness all around you. It’s just Boba. He’s here to save you, you repeated over and over to yourself, trying to calm your nerves.

When the hatch to the cargo hold opened and light flooded in, you couldn’t be more relieved to see it was Fennec who opened it. “Boss, she’s here,” she called out. She stepped aside and Boba immediately came down the ladder. He was dressed head to toe in his father’s Mandalorian armor and had a few spots of blood on it. His gaffi stick was in his hands, no doubt getting good use with the Weequay’s tough skin.

He stalked over to the cage and shot at the lock. Sparks flew and the door opened.

Boba knelt at your side, his hand gently coming to caress your bruised cheek. You still shook with fear, but nuzzled into his hand, happy for the comfort.

“Oh little one, I am so sorry,” Boba said, his gruff voice soft and modulated through his helmet.

You couldn’t stand it anymore and lurched forward, wrapping your arms around his neck. Boba quickly wrapped his own armored arms around you and held you tight. For a moment, there was just silence on the ship, the only sounds were both of your breathing. After a pause to make sure you were ok, Boba stood up and you tried to get your footing. He reached down behind your knees and picked you up bridal style.

“Come on, princess. Let’s get you home.”

[bluebaby123]

Relflections

hello, hello,

welcome to the dark side... this is my second collab with bnharem. Please, please, read through the rest of the collab list HERE. I am so grateful to be working with so many other talented writers and artists on this. Special shout out to @doinmybesthere for beta reading and for @kuso-deku whom I dedicate this piece fror giving me the Mirio brain rot...

TW: NSFW, 18++++ Villains, dub-con moments, sex, violence, YANDERE MIRIO, two crazy people, inter dimensional travel, killing, mentions of blood, dirty talk, some cum play

Around 7000 words

Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcast rumours of villains running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. Road maintenance endeavour to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before. Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city? Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary. One thing we know for sure: we can no longer rely on Heroes to protect us. The streets of our once-great city are no longer safe, we are no longer safe.

You flip off the television and rise from your seat on the couch. Your roommate and the object of your affection had already left for the night. Mirio would never obey that curfew, not as long as there were people he could be saving. That’s Mirio for you… always being the hero, even if he’d lost his quirk ages ago. But ever since the onslaught of new villains, and heroes turning to the darkside you’re patching him up more than normal… He returns with wounds more serious now, the scars abundant on his once smooth skin. He is becoming a reflection of the ruin and carnage that floods the streets. This is why you had come up with, planned out, and prepared for a way to fix everything. You could never stop him from being a hero, it was who he was… but you can get his quirk back… 

You check your pocket one last time… it’s there, wrapped in that small blue handkerchief. You examine the strange item one last time, careful not to prick yourself with it by mistake. It’s shaped like a sewing pin, only slightly larger. One prick, that’s all it takes, one prick and it will absorb the power from the first thing that it touches. Then one more prick, and the next thing it touches will absorb the gathered power. One chance, that’s all you have. 

You grip the chain around your neck and pull the locket out from inside your shirt. You read the engraving on the back, as you always do, and you smile. 

Come back to me ~ Mirio

It had been a gift, something to help you when you were learning how to use your quirk. The going part had always been easy, it was the returning from your travels that had been difficult. You open the locket, one side is a watch, the other a mirror. You check the time and write it down to the second on your arm in biro. 

7:43. 26 PM

You have 8 hours exactly and you fear you’ll need much more time than that. But your quirk’s limits are not forgiving in the slightest. A second longer and you’ll die. 

You take a deep breath, eyes now focussing on the mirror side of the locket. You’d returned this way ever since Mirio gave you the locket, but never once travelled forward through the mirror before. You meet your own eyes and start to feel the familiar pull, your face turning that strange shade of blue. 

Please let this work. Please, take me to Mirio. 

The gravity in the mirror builds and you can feel the surging power of your quirk. You feel yourself meet your reflection, becoming one with it for a split second before you’re absorbed to the other side of the mirror. 

You land in a darkened alley. The smell of stale beer and piss invading your senses, making your head swim even more than normal. The thickness of the summer air does nothing to help. It doesn't matter how many times you use your quirk, it always leaves you dizzy, disoriented. But that was to be expected when travelling to another dimension. Your quirk was dubbed Mirror Image, it allowed you to travel to different dimensions by looking at your own reflection. 

You check your pockets again… it’s still there. The “quirk extractor”, that’s not really what it was called but you’d forgotten the actual name of it. It had taken trying quite a few different dimensions to find something like it. It was very possible that you might never find that place again. You had to treat this like it was the only one in existence, afterall, it was the only one in this existence. But where exactly was this existence?

You blink, vision clearing and you examine the alley. It looks like a regular alley, slimy brick walls, dumpster, broken liquor bottles. A few people walk past on the main street, their laughter echoing off the alley’s walls. A lightbulb buzzes over a shut metal door. But there was no Mirio. The plan was to find a mirror Mirio, a Mirio that had never lost his quirk... extract this Mirio’s quirk and bring it back to your Mirio, the Mirio you loved. 

You had done enough dimensional travel to know that every version of the self was weirdly connected. That’s why you had travelled forward through the mirror he had given you this time. You had hoped it would bring you to another Mirio, since the mirror had never failed to take you back to him… even if you were in a strange corner of the universe. But alas, it was like travelling through any other reflection. As usual, you stand in an unknown location, trying your best to figure out where you’ve ended up. 

You kick a stray tin can in frustration as you walk towards the more populated streets. You laugh at your own stupidity. You knew the real reason you were doing this. Maybe, this act of love, retrieving his stolen quirk would change his mind. Maybe he would take back what he had said all those years ago… the words that would never stop ringing in your ears.

You’re standing on the sidewalk, trying to decide which way to go when the sound of rusty hinges snaps you from your thoughts. You turn to look back down the dim lit alley. A man with shaggy blue hair exits the building, his red eyes gleam and your heart drops. It’s hard to see but you’d know his face anywhere, he’s practically taken over your city, Shigaraki Tomura. Take a few steps to where you’re concealed by the wall of the building. He speaks to someone who is still inside the building. You angle your head to try and hear over the busy street. “They’ve just been getting in the way is all, and I need you to get them out of the way… see?” 

Why did your quirk take you to Shigaraki when you had specifically thought of Mirio? The streetlight’s shadows help to hide your shape. You peek around to see who he is talking to. Your breath hitches in your throat as you see the tall blonde exit from the building’s wall. Mirio. You watch as he leans his shoulder against the brick from which he just emerged. He looks taller, stronger, and still has his quirk… would your Mirio have looked like this if his power had never been robbed?  His grey tshirt is pulled tight around his body and his usually done hair is ungelled, almost messy, bangs hanging just above his eyes. “That’s easy, you have anything actually worth my time?” he jokes. Shigaraki looks unamused, eyes closing in annoyance.

 “Just do it, and don’t make it so messy this time… you tend to leave a trail wherever you go,” Shigaraki scolds. Mirio grins, but it’s not the same warm smile you’d grown to love, this smile is darker, more sinister. “I’ll take care of it boss, sheesh, you worry too much,” he rolls his shoulder on the wall until his back is flush against the brick. He pushes off of it and heads towards the end of the alley. You panic as he heads your way. “It’s that hotel on the corner of Roosevelt and Third,” Shigaraki screeches after Mirio who gives him a wave of his hand. “If you weren’t so useful I’d kill you,” Shigaraki adds. Mirio’s laugh bounces off of the alley walls. “You could try,” he calls as he rounds the corner, just passing you as you crouch near some bags of garbage praying he doesn’t notice you. But he passes you, languidly walking towards the destination he was just given by Shigaraki Tomura. That’s when it hits you… by going through Mirio’s mirror, you have found yourself a mirror Mirio. An exact opposite to the man you know.  

The thoughts are swirling around in your head but there’s no time to sort through them… you have to follow him. You slowly rise from your hiding place and melt into the crowds of people. It’s lucky that Mirio is so tall, it makes him easy to follow from a safe distance away. The crowded main streets turn to less populated side streets and you have to maneuver accordingly to stay well hidden. Mirio approaches a building with a neon sign that spells out HOTEL in red letters. A glowing arrow points to the double doors at the front of the building. He hurries up the steps before slipping inside.  

You follow close behind to make sure not to lose him inside but leave a long enough gap so that it isn’t too obvious. Upon entering, you’re met with the old red carpet that should have been replaced twenty years ago. Dust clings to the fabric of the sofa and cobwebs dangle from the antique crystal chandelier. The floor is well polished however, reflecting the lights that hang from the ceiling. It’s strange that there’s no clerk at the desk but a few people piddle about the lobby. A man makes eye contact with you, furrowing his brow in confusion. A woman in a short, low cut dress slips her hand below another man's belt and whispers something in his ear. No one blinks when Mirio makes a beeline down the hallway to the left. This was not an ordinary hotel. You walk calmly after Mirio and peer down the long dark corridor. There’s not sight of him but you watch the door at the end of the hall close. There. The lights in this section of the hall are off and everything seems quiet, whereas the hall to the right was lit and loud. Sounds of pleasure and partying spilling from underneath each door. You curse Mirio for walking down the more sinister path and follow begrudgingly. 

The hall is dark save one room where hysterical cries seep out. You don’t want to know what was going on and instead keep your eyes trained on the small bit of light that pours from the window inside that end door. Upon closer inspection there is a coating of condensation on the glass. This must be the pool. 

You retrieve the quirk extractor from your pocket and remove it from it’s wrapping, careful not to prick yourself.  You slowly open the door he had gone through just moments ago. You slid inside the door slowly and carefully, making more sound than you would have liked, but it can’t be helped. Any sound easily bounces off the water of the glistening blue pool. The smell of chlorine is overwhelming and you start to realise that there aren’t very many good hiding places in a place like this.... And Mirio is nowhere to be found. You grip the quirk extractor as you hear a door towards the back of the room slam shut. Another exit… your footsteps echo far more than you would like for them to as you head towards the door. 

“Gotchya.”

The voice startles you. Your grip on the quirk extractor falters, coupled with the way you jump… you watch as it slowly descends into the water, effectively pricking the pool. The ball at the end of the extractor emits a green light as it sinks to the bottom. “You idiot!” you shout before you can think better of it. Mirio steps from the wall and quirks an eyebrow up at you. “Me idiot? You’re the one following me with the stealth of one of the 3 stooges.”

He looks even more dangerous up close. A long scar descends from his chin down his neck. And while his eyes are the same colour, there’s a glint in them which your Mirio lacks. He’s faster as this version of himself, and you don’t have time to think before your back is against the cold tile wall. “So gorgeous, gonna tell me what that thing was and why you’re following me… or will I just rip the answers out of you one by one.” You’re too confused watching as he looms over you. His expression is half pleased, half irritated. You inhale to speak but the words don’t come. The smile on his face right now… it’s the expression of someone who has killed and enjoyed it. It’s never something you could have pictured to play across Mirio’s face and it jars you. A chill runs up your spine and goosebumps prickle on your arms. He’s terrifying but also so beautiful. 

One of his hands moves up to grip your throat as he growls, “I’m waiting, bitch.” You flail as his grip tightens, scratching your nails into his arm in hopes that he will let go.  “Please Mirio, I-I’m sorry.” His grip loosens suddenly but his hand stays around your neck. “What did you call me?” You cough and inhale, then meet his eyes. There is a familiar curiosity within his gaze but it’s joined by something else, that same strange glint. Is it amusement or something much more sinister? You can’t put your finger on it. “Mirio, your name is Mirio,” you murmur. A sly smile crosses his face as he moves closer to you, his hips pinning yours to the tile. “Yes, but how do you know that?” 

You stutter, trying to find the right words, a sigh haphazardly escaping your lips as the heat from his body becomes intoxicating. “You been sent to spy by the heroes?” You shake your head and try to wiggle free, but only succeed in grinding against him. A low laugh bubbles from his throat as he pins your wrists above your head with one hand and stills your hips with his other. “That’s real cute, but not gonna get you out of trouble with me…” His eyes flick down your body then back up. “Quite the opposite actually,” he teases. Your face feels warm and your eyes dart down and away. “Aww you’re so shy now, makes me wanna eat you up.” Mirio tilts your chin upwards so you’re looking at him. His eyes have softened slightly. “Just tell me,okay? I don’t wanna have to hurt ya.” There's a strange pleading in his tone, a sincerity you didn't expect. “We know each other, Mirio… well sort of,” you match the tone of his voice. A smirk breaks on his face, “are you my stalker?” You roll your eyes, he still had a sense of humour in this universe. It’s nice to know some things never change. 

“No, no we’re friends, but I know a different… you.” He blinks before his eyes narrow. He starts to speak but you continue to explain… about your quirk, the Mirio you know, and how you’d planned to steal his quirk. You show him your locket, the engraving. He still seems suspicious as he turns it over in his hands, examining it. “You’re a crafty little liar, I’ll give you that, had this made and all, but now I’ll have to pull the truth out of you, and like I said, I really didn’t want to have to do that to you.” “Wait… I can prove it, just let me use the mirror… then I’ll leave you alone.” Mirio looks you up and down again before opening the locket and holding it out for you. 

You focus on your reflection and watch as your face turns that strange blue black colour. Guilt seeps from your mind and travels down your spine as you’re pulled towards your reflection. The quirk extractor was sitting at the bottom of the pool, now carrying within it the power of chlorine… You hadn’t helped Mirio, only discovered a dark side to his existence… which wasn’t all that bad it seemed. He hadn’t harmed you at all, just threatened you slightly and even then it had seemed he was teasing and flirting more than anything. Your Mirio had never flirted with you… on purpose. The pull of the mirror became stronger and there was a strange sadness, a feeling that you would miss this version of Mirio. This version of Mirio was void of the sunshine that the original Mirio held within him at all times, but this Mirio seemed to see you. This Mirio had given you more in a few seconds than the original Mirio had in years. You shut your eyes as you began to fall into the mirror’s reflection. The original Mirio’s words that he’d said to you that day still hanging heavy in your heart. You laugh at your own pathetic nature for the second time today. You fantasies of Mirio were just that… just fantasies. In all universes. 

A hand pushes you backwards away from the mirror. The impact is so strong you stumble, but the same hand catches you and pulls you into him. You gasp for air, your head reeling from being ripped from the portal. Mirio holds you close, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just- I didn’t want you to go.” His voice is riddled with guilt, shaking slightly. You fist your hands into his shirt, gripping the fabric as you struggle to stand. “Whoa whoa, hey,” he consoles as he sinks to his knees, bringing you with him. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his lap. “I really didn’t mean to- I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m okay, I’ve just never been pulled from a portal before,” you stutter. His thumb brushes over your face temple. “You remember your name?” You state your name and he repeats it, “Y/n… I love it.” A smile plays on your features, cheeks heating once again upon hearing the compliment. “Hey, what’s 2 + 2?” 

“4,”

“Damn, well I guess you’re a math wiz.”

Your eyes flutter open and he smiles, “there she is.” You squeeze your eyes shut then open them once more in an effort to stop the room from spinning. “Are you gonna kill me now?” you drawl. Mirio pouts, “well that depends, are you still gonna steal my quirk for other me?” You laugh and roll your head away from him. “I can’t, it’s in the pool now, it’s absorbed the fucking power of chlorine.” Mirio laughs, “well whose fault is that?” You look up at him, there’s an intensity to his gaze when you meet his eyes. Your heart hammers against your chest… “yours.” You start to sit up, his arms still cling to you. “You’re the dummy who let go just ‘cuz I scared you.” You hum considering his words, “you don’t scare me Mirio.” 

His arms relax around you and you move to lay down on the tile floor. Your back relaxes against the floor and you move your arms over your head to rest your head in your hands. “You should be afraid, I’m a whole different me, sweetheart,” he remarks. He moves to lay next to you, mimicking your position. “You’re still Mirio,” you sigh, your eyes taking in the blank space of the ceiling. “You don’t know the things I’ve done, my body count, nothing.” “You’re still Mirio,” you insist. Laying like this you can hear the echo of your words bouncing off of the water. “He’s lucky, other me… to have a girl like you.” His last few words are whispered, failing to bounce around the room. They hang over you, adding weight to the atmosphere. “Ah well, the Mirio in my universe doesn’t see it that way,” you deflect. Mirio rolls to face you, his head laying in the crook of his arm. “I know we don’t know each other… not really, but it’s strange, I feel like I’ve known you forever.” You turn your head to look at him. His eyes are practically on fire now, that small glint having grown into a flame. “In a way we have, I know a version of you… what I’ve come to find is every universe has overlaps of some sort… you and the Mirio I know will share some things… memories even.” Mirio’s face lights up, “yes exactly, I feel like I’ve seen you in a dream or something…” You shrug, “it’s possible.” Mirio smiles, it’s a familiar smile, a sincere happiness that the Mirio of your universe wears often. Much different than the smiles this Mirio had even just a few moments ago. 

“Why are you a villain?” you ask him. Mirio clutches his chest in mock pain. “That hurts, sweetheart… Just because I don’t accept the truths the rule makers of our world have given me… that’s what makes me a “villain”?” You narrow your eyes, “I meant more that you’re a hitman working for Shigaraki Tomura.” He laughs, “heard that did you? Guess you were following me for longer than I’d realised.” He pauses and moves closer to you. “I have no problem getting rid of a few people who won’t contribute anything of value… most lives are a total waste, I’m merely an exterminator… getting rid of the bad to make more space for the good…” He says it so casually that it makes chills run up your spine. “So does that make you the good or the bad?” He laughs again though this time he is less amused with your question. “I’m just a sacrificial pawn, sweetheart… can’t be good to make space for it.” 

You reach out and touch his bare arm. His skin is hot against his fingertips. “You didn’t hurt me… when you thought I was lying, you can’t be bad…” He smiles, “That’s just because I see how good you are and I want to protect that… protect you.” His hand begins to mirror yours, stroking up and down your arm with light fingertips. “If you can see the good, then that makes you good.” 

His fingers grip into your arm and he pulls you closer to him. He reaches for the back of your neck when he notices the smudge of ink on his hand. He examines your arm and finds the numbers. “What’s this?” he asks. You sigh, “it’s the time I have to go…” He pulls your face closer to his, your noses almost touching. “You can’t stay?” You shake your head, “Only for 8 hours, else I’ll be torn apart by the universal pulls… I’m not really supposed to be here ya know,” you joke. Mirio’s face falls, “Can you come back?” You shrug, “I can but the time I can stay is deducted every single time I return to a universe until I can no longer visit anymore…” Mirio’s thumb rubs soft circles into the flesh of your cheek. “What should we do then?” he asks. You smile sadly before sitting up. You give him an impish smirk. “Well, there’s a pool, I say we swim.” 

You start by removing your top, slowly peeling it away and discarding it to the floor. Mirio follows, taking off his grey tshirt. His figure is chiseled, each muscle toned and defined. You start unbuttoning your trousers when you feel the heat of his chest flush against your back. “Can I?” he asks as his hands rest on your hips. You nod and he slowly pulls your pants down your legs. He helps you step out of them before throwing them towards the growing pile of clothes. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs into your skin, trailing kisses up your thighs. You grab his face with two hands and pull him to standing. “My turn,” you smirk, looping your fingers in his belt loops and pulling him towards you. You undo his pants, kissing down his chest. Savoring the taste of his skin. He groans at your touch and you feel the heat pooling low in your belly. His pants removed his stands only in grey underwear, while you remain in your bra and panties. 

You teasingly move away from him and stand on the first rung of the ladder in the deep end of the pool. You look back to where he stands, calling him to you with your gaze. He groans as he moves towards you. “I’m really holding back you know,” he growls, pressing his chest against your back, his a. “Why hold back? You can have whatever you want… Just take it, make it yours.” Mirio trails his lips up your neck, ready to suckle a mark into your skin, when you add, “if you can,” and step off the ladder into the blue water. 

As soon as the water touches your skin you’re swimming towards the other side. You hear Mirio dive in after you and know that this has all been futile. He grabs your hand and slings you gently towards the wall. He places both of his hands on either side of your body, pinning you. You wipe the water from your eyes before wrapping them around his neck. “You caught me so fast… I thought you’d chase me around more,” you provoke. He shakes the water from his hair and moves his body closer to yours. “Chasing you is a waste of fucking time right? I want to have you,” he growls. You open your mouth to say something but are silenced by his lips on yours. 

The kiss is needy, sloppy. He kisses you like he’s starving, finally being fed. His tongue draws circles around yours before sucking it into his mouth. You moan into the kiss and he responds by pulling you closer, grinding on your clothed cunt with his hardening cock. He moves to run his tongue along your bottom lip before nipping at it. You sight into the kiss, turning your head to deepen it. You pull away a wry smile on your face. Mirio’s pupils are blown, that unfamiliar glint in his eye now having a name for it, desire. 

“Miri, I want you,” his hips stutter against yours upon hearing this. “Fuck princess, I won’t be able to hold back anymore if you keep looking at me like that.” You pepper kisses to his face, tasting the chlorine on his skin. “Don’t hold back,” you whisper, “I trust you, you’re good to me, I’m yours if that’s what you really want.” His breath shakes upon hearing this and he presses his forehead to yours. “Mine? All fucking mine? Like this me?” You nod and kiss him again. This time you catch his bottom lip and suck it, pulling on it just to hear him moan. 

He helps lift you to where you’re sitting on the edge of the pool. He peels your panties down your legs before spreading them. He kisses one of your thighs before massaging the other. “So fucking perfect,” he praises, “all fucking mine.” He trails his hand and mouth up the inside of your thigh. He spreads your folds, drinking in the sight of your bare cunt. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he sighs. “I’m gonna make you forget about any other versions of me, you’re going to be all mine.” He presses a kiss to your clit, “gonna be all fucking mine, princess.” 

He drags his tongue, slow, up your slit and circles it around your clit before sucking on it gently. You stifle a whine and you can feel him smiling in pride. “That is princess, lemme hear those sweet sounds.” He does the same move again and this time you don’t hold it in. Your sounds of pleasure echo around the pool, bouncing around and finally landing back on your own ears. But you don’t hear them, as you’re too lost in the pleasure. Mirio grips the wall of the pool with one hand while the other comes up to rest on your lower abdomen. His thumb starts rubbing soft circles on your clit while his tongue circles your hole. “Tastes so fucking good,” he growls and then shoves his tongue inside. The muscle is hot, wet, and he slowly begins to add more pressure to your clit while tongue fucking you. You’re completely overcome with a mind melting pleasure as you fall back onto your elbows, your hips grinding against his face. You aren’t sure how, but you can already feel that familiar knot forming in the pit of your stomach. You’re close and Mirio seems to know as he picks up the pace. “Cum all over my face- wanna taste you-” His permission was all you needed and soon you’re clamping down around his tongue, calling broken syllables of his name. He kisses your cunt as you come down from your high. “Such a good girl for me, cumming when I say.”

He lifts himself out of the pool and removes his underwear. He’s thick, incredibly so and long. The head is red, leaking pre cum. You groan at the sight, cunt aching to be filled. You reach for him, pulling him on top of you. He kisses you, deep, passionate, with lots of tongue and teeth. You can feel his cock, thick and hard pressing into your thigh. He ruts his hips into yours, his cock sliding along your thigh. “Please,” you beg. He growls and flips you to where you’re on top and he sits pressing you to him, cock wedged between the two of you. You grind against him in anticipation. “Please Miri,” you plead. He lifts you and in one swift move, you’re impaled on his cock. 

You cry out, and it echoes back to you. The stretch is incredible, a pleasurable, dull pain that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. He carefully thrusts up into you, and you crumble, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “I don’t wanna hurt my baby,” he coos, body stilling. You shake your head, “no it feels good, y-you're just so big.” He laughs darkly, “you love the pain, don't you?” He gives another thrust to test your reaction and this time he can feel it. Your pussy dripping down his cock.He looks down, eyes blowing at the sight, “fuck baby look, I’m not even all the way inside…” You look down and moan, his cock is a little over half inside. It’s too big to fit all the way. “You cute little cunt keeps throbbing on my cock, and when she does, she drools.” He wipes up some of your combined juices with his thumb and rubs into your clit again, just as he had before. Then he starts to move. 

He starts slowly bouncing you in his lap at a gentle pace, but soon his eyes change and his thrusts become harder and faster. “I’m sorry princess, but you feel too good, I need more of you, need all of you.” Mirio fucks into you harder, his cock so big he hits every spot inside of you that makes you weak with each thrust. Your cries become louder and more desperate. His cock kissing your cervix with each thrust causes you to disintegrate in his lap. The lewd sounds of his hips smacking into your ass fills the pool. Mirio’s eyes flick down and he growls. “Look at that baby, ‘m all the way inside now, doing so good, so fucking perfect taking every inch I have to give. God you’re fucking made for me.” You sink your teeth into his neck in a desperate effort to stave off your orgasm, to savor the moment you’d waited so long for. The moment where you and Mirio Togata become one. But it feels too good, the pleasure so intense that you’re pushed over the edge again, clenching tightly around Mirio’s fat cock. “Fuck baby, do that again, milk my cock for me while I fuck you into my shape.” 

His thrusts become sloppier but he manages to continue to hit all your spots, driving his cock into you at a bruising pace. You’re shaking in his lap, body convulsing from your last orgasm as another starts to build. “Fucking hell baby, you’re so fucking perfect, and you’re mine, all fucking mine.” His hips start to stutter but his pace quickens. “I’m all yours Miri, yes, I’m yours,” you moan. He pulls your head towards him and kisses you with that same hunger as before, teeth gripping at your lower lip and him sucking on your tongue. You moan into his mouth as your orgasm washes over you, white hot. It’s too much and sends him over the edge. “That’s it, milk my cock, milk my fucking cock,” he pants, pouring his cum deep inside you. “I’m gonna get you pregnant, gonna make you mine forever,” he growls as his hot ropes of cum still paint your walls. 

Your body is shaking, the post orgasm cold mixed with your wet body has goosebumps prickling your body. He pulls his cock out and groans at the way his cum drips from your hole. He smiles, “you’re even more beautiful now that I’ve claimed you.” You smile against his skin. “I feel more beautiful,” you reply. But Mirio’s words ring in your ears. You sit up quickly but wince. “I hurt you, I’m so-” “No, that isn’t it…” You lay your head in the crook of his neck. “The longer I’m here in this dimension the weaker I become… but I’m okay, don't worry.” You nuzzle into him, trying to steal some of his warmth. He caresses your back, “I wish you could stay…” “I-I have to go back, we can’t be together forever, even though it’s all I want,” when you finally say the words you start to cry. Mirio wraps his arms around you. “You’re cold,” he says. He helps you up holding your hands, “can you stand?” You nod and he walks you back towards the shallow end of the water. He eases himself in first and then takes your hand to help you do the same. 

He cradles you to him, “but you can go back to other me, and when you make love to him, you can just think of me… we’re the same.” You look into his eyes, face pleading, “that’s just it Mirio, you aren’t the same at all… he will never love me.” Mirio’s face darkens, anger, pure anger resides in his features. “Why not?” You take a deep breath. These were the words that haunted you from the moment the other Mirio had spoken them. “He told me, I will always love you, but I will never, ever, love you like that.” You whisper this secret to him.

Mirio can see it, the weight you’ve carried in your heart. That Mirio might save people all day long, be an actual hero, but he’s the one that’s more fucked… evil. Breaking the most perfect girl he has ever known into small pieces. No, Mirio could never let such evil exist, even if that evil was technically himself. “I’m gonna kill him,” he vows as he cradles you protectively. 

Your eyes widen, and you grip onto his face. He looks at you, smiling. “Miri, do you really want to be with me forever?” He nods and kisses you, “more than anything, you’re mine now, I’ve claimed you, you belong to me.” “I belong to you,” you echo and press your forehead against his. “I think I know a way,” you inform, the grin breaking over your face. He awaits an explanation with wide eyes. “You can come back to my world with me.” Mirio narrows his eyes in confusion, “won’t that kill me? Like it kills you?” You shake your head, “no… that just has to do with the limitations of my quirk… I’ve brought someone back with me before, the only thing is… that there’s already a Mirio in my universe, which could technically throw time and space out of balance. But there’s a small window where it wouldn’t… and if you really want to kill him… then there would only be one again.” You smile and hold his face, peppering it with kisses. “You can kill him and take his place!” 

You’re met with Mirio’s grin and another sloppy kiss. “I knew I was right about you, you’re perfect.” You both climb out of the pool and dress in your clothes again. You put the locket around your neck and open it focussing on your reflection. For the first time, holding the mirror, you don’t feel the weight of the other Mirio’s words. This Mirio, now your Mirio, has filled the void that the Mirio of your universe put inside your heart. You wonder now if you’d really loved him all this time or if it was a disguised hatred and rage. You’d always found blood somewhat disturbing but now you were excited to see it. Excited to watch the man who hurt you bleed out and be destroyed by the man you loved. Excited to watch him die. 

 You grip Mirio’s hand in yours, finger interlaced. “Just don’t let go, no matter what, okay?” Mirio kisses your hand. “I won’t, swear,” he confirms. 

Your face begins to change and you feel the gravity sucking you back into your reflection, but this time, you won’t be returning to him alone and in pieces. You’ll be returning to him whole.  This time… it would be him lying in pieces on the floor. 

[damnzawa]

Hi there! I just found your account and I love you writing! I was wondering if you could do a bakugou x reader fantasy au? Where prince bakugou goes to a small village in his kingdom for a pit stop while on a quest but meets the reader who's a poor butcher's daughter that doesn't know who he is and doesn't really care either but really wants to go on a quest and begs him to let her travel with him in exchange for being a chef. Thank you so much!!💞💕💗 ⁽⁽ଘ( ˊᵕˋ )ଓ⁾⁾┌(★ｏ☆)┘

ANNOYING — B. KATSUKI

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry if this took a long time to be published! I went off tumblr for a while due to personal issues but now I'm back! Hope you like this!

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED (for now)

WARNINGS: Language LMAO but its Bakugo so what do we expect. Also this is not beta read!

WORD COUNT: 1955

Not everyday you have the privilage to meet the prince. The heir to the kingdom's throne. The second most respected man in the whole entire kingdom.

And not everyday you get to mistake him as a thief either.

Not that you care about his title, really. You believe that all men are created equal, regardless of their social standings, heirarchy and whatnot. Thus, you didn't really care about the prince and the royal family that much to ever know about them. Not even their faces, nor names.

So, it wasn't a surprise that it will cause you your possible demise.

You see, the day started nice. You went out to do some deliveries, met some nice people on the road who bought half of the meat your father had cut, and to top it all off the farmer was kind enough to give you extra rootcrops as a sign of gratitude to you and your father. It was a great day all in all. Until, the knights came.

Along with the explosive prince.

Murmurs began to start as you headed back to your father's stall in the market after a long day of delivery work. Even though you didn't mean to eavesdrop — it was kind of hard not to, considering how their volumes were — you caught the words: arrogant, self-centered, short-tempered. And later you found out those words described the prince.

"He must be a nincompoop then. To get such a reputation from the people in town, he must have done some... questionable things." You said to yourself. Too engrosed in your thoughts, you bumped into a red-headed knight. You bowed immediately while apologizing then excused yourself, you didn't really want to interact with knights today. All you wanted to do was cook a hearty meal for your stubborn father, read a book by the fireplace after a bath, and relax.

But all those plans seem to be quickly washed away when you saw an ash blond quietly steal from your father. You were gonna let it slide, thinking that maybe it was for a good cause.

That is until you realized, the man stole a prime cut.

As if a switch was flicked, you quickly ran towards the direction the man headed to. Spotting him from afar, you ran as fast as you can and knocked the man into the ground, shocking the people around you.

"Give it back." You sternly commanded the man. "Give back the meat you stole from my father."

The man scoffed at your 'accusations' and tried to wiggle his way free but your entire weight placed on top of his back made it hard to do so. "Let me fucking go. I have no idea what the actual fuck you are accusing me of."

"Oh shut it. I saw you with my own two eyes and I am very much sure that their vision is not impaired yet." His futile attempts at escaping now stopped as he tilted his head to see the scoundrel who had the audacity to knock him down and embarrass him infront of townspeople.

Of course it had to be a girl.

"Are you one of my admirers to go such lengths as accusing me of stealing from a commoner?" That comment made your eye twitch because first, you are certainly not an admirer of this prick. Two, you don't even know the guy! Three, who would admire this piece of work? And lastly, your father might be a 'commoner' but he's the best 'commoner' you could ever find! There wouldn't be a slab of ribs or a fine piece of steak on your plates if it weren't for him! And the way this asshole said 'commoner' with such distaste too! What a prick! Who the hell does he think he is?

"My prince!" The same red-headed knight you bumped into earlier shouted from afar. Your eyes widened for a second before turning back to the asshole beneath you who now has a smug grin on his face.

"Miss! Are you alright?" The knight asked while helping you get up. "Did the prince cause you any disturbances? Any problems?" It was your turn to plaster on a smug grin on your face. You saw his own falter which you made you more smug than before.

"Why yes actually, the prince caused me a slight inconvenience." The red-head sighed, taking a quick glance at the prince beside him — who couldn't stand due to pain. "The prince stole a priceless little thing from my father's stall earlier and I'd like for him to return it or better yet, pay for it." The prince was about to retort but the red-head beat him to it.

"I deeply apologize for the prince's action, miss. If it would make you happy and satisfied, I will pay for the items he stole. I will also ask for forgiveness on his behalf." Angry noises came from the prince's (beast) mouth as the red-headed knight did exactly what he told making you raise an eyebrow.

"Why are you doing it for him? Can't he do it himself?" It was amazing to see a knight easily convinced to do something a mere 'commoner' like you demanded, but you concluded that this red-headed fellow wasn't an ordinary knight. He seemed like the type that's fed up with the prince's antics, thus his demeanor towards people is filled with empathy and the usual knightly courage. But your words made him halt, and look at you as if you were from some otherworldly land.

You caught the knight mutter about something manly before the prince interrupted. "Hah?! I'm not gonna apologize to someone lower than me! You extra!" The knight sweat-dropped at the prince's words while you looked at him blankly. Wow, the rumors are true, he is an asshole.

"Well, Your Highness, this extra happened to be the one who cared for the rib who used to be a part of the cow that you stole just now. So, apologize and pay up. I don't care if you're the prince or not. Thievery is a crime, and you just committed it." The crowd begin to whisper, making the prince's eye twitch.

"Fine, you annoying extra! Give her whatever the fuck she wants!" And with that the prince stormed off. Leaving you and the red-haired knight behind. The crowd began to disperse, seeing as the scene just concluded and that the man of the hour was gone.

The knight turned to you once again and bowed. "I'm deeply sorry for my prince's actions. As he caused such an inconvenience and refuses to be accountable for his actions, I shall ensure to provide whatever compensation you need or want — within reason of course." Before you can respond, he introduces himself with a grin. "Ah! How silly of me! Chivalric knight, Kirishima Eijirou at your service."

"I appreciate your efforts, Sir Kirishima, but I just need the payment for the stolen goods." You replied with a smile, but soon your smile faltered. You had wanted to be a chef for so long and travel unknown lands to discover cuisine and cooking techniques you've never heard of before. Perhaps... is this the right time to do it?

You bit your lip as you contemplated. Should you grab this opportunity and run with it?

Seeing your hesitancy, Kirishima waited for your answer. "Actually... I have a request... I was wondering if it's possible?"

"I'm all ears, Miss."

...

"What is this extra doing here?!" Prince Bakugo exclaimed as he saw your annoying little face within his traveling party. Kirishima sighed as he explained the situation. You would join his party as a chef until you reach the capital where you will be training to be a chef under the great Lunch Rush. Bakugo was about to object when Kirishima shot him a look.

"Fine. But I'm not eating garbage cooked by a commoner!" You rolled your eyes at his demeanor. Are all royals like this?

As if reading your mind, Kirishima responds. "Don't worry. King Masaru and Queen Mitsuki are quite modest and kind."

"Then what happened to him?" You pointed to Bakugo.

"I heard that, you extra!" Fowl language followed that statement making the traveling party sigh. Oh boy, this is gonna be a painful journey.

After that, you said your goodbyes to your father, who was very emotional about the turn of events. "Be good and be brave, my sweet child. And ask for forgiveness from His Highness." Your brows were scrunched in confusion.

"Why must I do that? He was clearly in the wrong!"

"Ah... that slab of meat was a present from me to him. He once helped me round up the cows when his traveling party went by our house yesterday. The slab of priceless meat was a token of appreciation for his kind gesture. So, do apologize for your actions, ok?" The information you just heard astounded you, making you speechless. Guilt pooled in your stomach as you promised your father that you will apologize to the prince. And with a final promise of coming home as a renowned chef, you parted ways.

The journey started rough. The prince refused to eat anything you made at all. His stubbornness knows no bounds and his overall demeanor towards you was not pleasant, which you understood as the scene you caused was a total misunderstanding on your part. The only upside was the traveling party greatly enjoyed your meals, and some even gave you recipes from different places and suggestions of destinations that you'll surely enjoy to explore! Overall, it went smoothly.

That is, until the prince became sick.

The doctors in your traveling party asked you to concoct different meals suited to His Highness, You had to stop at a village in order to ensure Prince Bakugo's speedy recovery. And one day, you were assigned to deliver his meals to him personally.

"Prince Bakugo?" You knocked on the door, and as expected, not a response came from the prince. You sighed and slowly opened the door, cautiously stepping in so you won't wake Bakugo up or spill the contents of the bowl you held.

"Go away, you extra." He grumbled, but his rough voice was replaced with a weak ome due to his illness.

"Look, I know you won't eat my meals but you need to eat. You can't recover from this if your body doesn't have the nutrients it needs to fight back this illness." You huffed. "And... besides, consider this as my way of making up to you."

"What the heck are you talking about?"

"My father told me about it. I'm sorry for mistaking you for a thief. I tried to apologize to you on several occasions but you angrily push me away every time I do. So, I figured this might be the right timing since you know... you aren't your usual aggressive self." You scratched your nape in embarrassment. "Besides, if there's something I learned while traveling with you is that you're a big softie inside. You might act rough and is shard on the edges, you're actually kind-hearted and caring. Uh... anyways. Please make sure to eat your meal, Prince Bakugo."

Before you can exit the room, you heard him say, "Annoying extra." But the usual hostility behind those words wasn't there. You might just be assuming it or imagining it, but those words almost sounded... fond.

With a shake of your head, you left the room.

Later that day, you found the bowl to be empty and outside of his room. Along with it was a note that read, "Don't fucking tell me what to do, you annoying extra."

[robininthelabyrinth]

How will nmy react to a memory loss jgy how think himself a nie scet member ?

There were murmurs around him when he first started waking up.

“– last few times – appears he thinks that –”

“– need to avoid any disturbances –”

“ - perhaps pretend -”

“Absolutely not.”

That last one was Sect Leader Nie.

His voice was loud and piercing as always, a general accustomed to needing to make himself heard over the din of battle and never quite having adjusted to situations where it wasn’t needed, and Meng Yao found himself relaxing a little bit just at the sheer familiarity of it. Nie Mingjue was as reliable as the sunrise: once you were one of his people, he’d defend you to the death.

If he was here, Meng Yao was safe.

He went back to sleep.

The next time he woke up, the room was empty but for Sect Leader Nie, who was sitting at the desk doing paperwork. Probably paperwork that Meng Yao should be doing, but for the injury that must have led to all of this – he didn’t remember it at all, but short-term amnesia was a common side effect of certain injuries, and his head was wrapped in bandages.  

Still, he struggled to sit up. “Sect Leader Nie,” he called, and Sect Leader Nie’s shoulders tensed. “If you want my help –”

“You should be resting,” Sect Leader Nie said. He was staring at the wall in front of him instead of turning back to look at Meng Yao – a sign of guilt? Had he been involved in what happened? “Do not trouble yourself.”

“And let you mess up my filing system?” Meng Yao teased lightly, hoping to lighten the mood. “Don’t forget how long it took me to fix the accounts the way I like it –”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Meng Yao paused, then, abruptly concerned: Sect Leader Nie’s shoulders were curved inwards, as if expecting a blow – afraid of pain. Afraid of him?

Impossible.

And yet, at the same time – unmistakable.

“Why doesn’t it matter?” he asked, keeping his voice level. He always kept his voice level, no matter the circumstances; someone certainly had to, and it wasn’t going to be anyone surnamed Nie. “Are you expelling me from your service?”

It was a joke, of course. Nie Mingjue liked him, respected him, valued him – had made it clear a thousand ways that he would never listen to gossip or to slander, would never judge him by who his mother was, and Meng Yao couldn’t imagine what sort of dire mistake would be necessary to make Nie Mingjue refuse to stand by him, even against the world.

“You’re the one who will leave,” Nie Mingjue said, his voice cutting, but then the anger flowed out of his shoulders and he sighed, closing his eyes, as if he had mistakenly become angry over the wrong thing. “It is not that I didn’t know that your ambitions had always been with Lanling, not Qinghe.”

Bile and panic rose up Meng Yao’s throat, but what could he say?

It was true. He had come to Qinghe because he had heard that they respected talent there, regardless of birth; he had come because he had needed a place to rise to prominence, where he could become so respectable that even his father would be unable to ignore him.

Qinghe had always been a waystation, not a destination.

Or, if one wanted to look at it with less kindness – he had treated it as a stepping-stone.

Had Nie Mingjue discovered how Meng Yao had schemed to get his attention, his sympathy? The little tricks he’d played to get him to agree to take a chance on an unknown, all the ways he’d wormed his way into the man’s life so that it would be impossible to extract him without damage? Or was it something more recent, something hidden away in his lost memories – had his father asked him to betray some confidence of Nie Mingjue’s? Turn over some information, take some secret action…had he done it?

Was that why Nie Mingjue didn’t want to look at him?

“Sect Leader Nie…”

“I’m not supposed to talk to you about it,” Nie Mingjue said bluntly. “The doctors told me to play along, pretend not to…I told them trying to hide it from you was pointless, that you were too smart, that you’d figure it out – I assume you have by now?”

“I’ve lost my memory,” Meng Yao said. He was shivering, and it wasn’t cold. “I woke up and the doctors realized that I’d forgotten a great deal, so they wanted you not to cause me any disturbance…how much time have I lost?”

“The war is over,” Nie Mingjue said, and surely that should be cause for celebration? But Nie Mingjue’s voice was flat and neutral, as if some terrible thing had happened, and his fists were clenched in rage. “You have been recognized by the Jin sect, and now live in Lanling. I cannot speak to the quality of your life, or to your happiness, but you have at least achieved that much.”

It was not that Meng Yao thought he’d be happy in Lanling – it was that he hadn’t thought he’d be happy anywhere, and found to his surprise that Qinghe actually did make him happy. It wasn’t supposed to, nothing was supposed to; it was all supposed to be part of the plan, that was all, a means to an end.

He wasn’t supposed to become fond of Sect Leader Nie, who tried so hard and listened so earnestly; he wasn’t supposed to be friends with Nie Huaisang, a charming waste of space who ought to have been born as a roly-poly kitten instead.

He was supposed to be in Lanling, by his father’s side, and now it appeared he was – and yet the injury he suffered had driven his memories back to his time at Qinghe.

That said something, he thought.

He’d had head injuries before, memory issues, dating back to his childhood; his mother had hired a doctor for him over it, a real one and not some faker, and he’d explained that when injured, Meng Yao’s extraordinary mind would retreat to the place it felt safest, recreating the past out of all those perfectly preserved memories and sinking into it as if it were real. If this injury followed the pattern of the others, there was no need for any treatment beyond time – soon enough, he would start to remember, and reality would gradually reassert itself over fantasy.

In the past, no matter what, his memory would always return to those few months when he was eight years old, when his mother had met a possessive benefactor and they had lived free and easy under his care – it had ended horribly, of course, but at the time he didn’t know that.

This time, his memory had returned to his days in Qinghe.

And Nie Mingjue still wouldn’t look at him.

“What did I do?” he asked.

“You assume that you’ve done something?”

“You don’t want to look at me,” Meng Yao said. A moment of silence, with Nie Mingjue not giving in, stiff and quiet, so he added, quietly, “I warned you in the beginning that I was unworthy of the trust you placed in me.”

In the end, Nie Mingjue turned to look at him. He seemed tired, and his eyes were bloodshot in a way that did not speak well of his health.

“Tell me what I did,” Meng Yao said. “I want to know.”

Nie Mingjue exhaled. “You killed a captain,” he said dully. “Premeditated murder, and you excused it by saying that he had stolen your glory and bullied you; even if it was true, you never once said a word of it to me before, never sought some other means to resolve it. You then defected to the Wen sect, becoming a master torturer and Wen Ruohan’s right hand; you killed my men, tortured me, and then killed him to become a war hero. After that, you were accepted into the Jin sect, and Lan Xichen and I swore brotherhood with you.”

He paused, then, but that was not the end, or else he would not be so angry.

Meng Yao waited, his mind dancing over all the excuses, all the things he could say, belated justifications, things that would cast him in a good light, a better light – what Nie Mingjue had described was obviously a problem, but not an insoluble one, and his future self should have known that. He could still fix this.

But to fix it, he needed to know the full extent of his crimes first.

“My qi became disordered after the war,” Nie Mingjue finally said, continuing. “Lan Xichen proposed a treatment: a Lan melody known as the Song of Clarity. But he is busy, so you took on the responsibility of playing for me…”

No, Meng Yao thought. No.

But at once he knew where the story led, even before the telling of it was done. A story that started with premeditated murder, however his future self had justified it to himself, could only end with the same –

Why would he do something like that? Perhaps because Nie Mingjue turned away from him after the first murder, as he ought to have known he would – Nie Mingjue tried so hard, and thought everyone else did, too; the glimpse at what Meng Yao was really like, the creature of spite and bitterness and hatred, willing to kill the filthy way, hidden in the dark…it would have come as a shock to him.

And yet his former self had obviously salvaged it, somehow; Nie Mingjue had agreed to swear brotherhood with him, to make up with him, to treat him as an equal, and still he –

Surely no prize could be worth this.

“Do you know why I did it?” he asked quietly, staring down at his own clenched fists, hating iron for not being steel. His damaged mind was telling him that what he had had in Qinghe was dearer to him than his own mother, and he had nearly destroyed it with his own two hands.

“The Nie sect and the Jin sect are at a crossroads,” Nie Mingjue said, and at last, at last Meng Yao recognized the flatness of his tone and the lack of visible signs of fury as the signs of medicine, the sluggish pain relief that could help stymie an incipient qi deviation. The poisonous song he played must have come very near to working. “Jin Guangshan wants the title of Chief Cultivator; I think there should be none. Jin Guangshan protects Xue Yang even after he murdered an entire clan; I think he deserves to die – I asked you for his head, and you promised it to me…you never intended to deliver. There can be only one sect ascendant, and you are, as much as he hates it, your father’s heir.”

His heir. Had he done something to Jin Zixuan, then? Unsatisfied with only the name he had promised himself he would obtain, had he coveted the power, too, and sought to achieve it by any means possible?

If he had reached the point of being willing to murder Nie Mingjue, then surely he had done that, too.

“I bashed your head in,” Nie Mingjue said conversationally. “During the deviation that you provoked. Lan Xichen stopped me from actually killing you, and from dying myself, and then you awoke without any memory of what you’d done, calling yourself Meng Yao again as if you were still – as if you still –”

Someone had asked Nie Mingjue to come in here and pretend, Meng Yao realized, and with a start realized also that he was furious about it. Someone had told him to come in here and play pretend with his would-be murderer as if they were still friends.

It might even have been Lan Xichen who’d done it.

There were tears on Nie Mingjue’s cheeks. He did not wipe them away the way Nie Huaisang would have, trying to hide his pain; he only let them fall, his eyes sliding shut once more – he could not look at Meng Yao, and Meng Yao couldn’t blame him.

“I wish I could go back,” he said, and Nie Mingjue opened his eyes to look at him. “Before I made those decisions. I wish I was still Meng Yao, and could do things differently. Is it too late for that?”

With anyone else, he would know the answer already. With anyone else, he wouldn’t have asked.

With anyone else, his mind would still be back in those wonderful days of being eight and alone with his mother for the very first time and last time.

“How can I ever trust you again?” Nie Mingjue asked, shaking his head in denial. “You drove me into a qi deviation – you wanted to kill me, knowing it would leave Huaisang the position of sect leader, knowing how cruel a death it was –”

“Is it too late?”

This was not something that could be repaired easily, with words and a gentle smile. This would take action and sacrifice. But before he committed himself, he had to know if it were even possible.

If Nie Mingjue could still forgive him, even now –

If he was still one of Nie Mingjue’s people, to be defended until death.

Nie Mingjue abruptly stood up, unsteady on his feet, clearly still ill – if I am half the murderer that I appear to be in his stories, I will kill those doctors who prioritized my health, this farce, over his, and if Lan Xichen was involved I will make it clear to him what wrong he has done – and shook his head, but this time it was not a denial.

“I never know what to do with you,” he said, and it was not a no.

It was not a no.

Jin Guangyao smiled.

(At the trial, which happened eventually, Nie Mingjue spoke in his favor, and his would-be murderer was remanded into the custody of Qinghe for whatever punishment they saw fit. It didn’t last long, but it was an excellent alibi for his father’s untimely death, even though it did not solve all the questions that lingered in Nie Mingjue’s eyes. But that, too, was not an insoluble problem.)

[occassionalfanficwriter]

Unyieldingly Yours,

Summary: Mammon had always been used to having pacts masters that never treated him kindly. He figured that the new human exchange student was the same except he's been recieving gifts for no reason at all and his new master treats him like he's the favorite among his less troublesome brothers. And now there's another ring on his finger and suddenly his master isn't his master anymore.

Or a love story that happens out of sequence.

A/N: The story is told in medias res. I wish the keep reading option was fucking available on mobile.

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Fake Relationship, Slow burn only because Mammon and Mammorons are two halves of a whole pining idiota, local oblivious insecure demon in love with his sugar guardian human who pampers him to spite the world, Pretend Marriage up until it becomes the real deal, Hurt before Comfort, Intimacy disguised as helpfulness that would make Jane Austen proud, Love Words are: praise kink and acts of service, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence e.g. we went back to the orginal timeline, Through Love Miracles Happen

Rated: E for explicit descriptions of cock sucking (and emotions)

--

The facts of the matter are this:

He, the Avatar of Greed, is the first demon to get married.

His spouse is the human exchange student.

They are married in Devildom, the Human World, and the Celestial Realm.

His marriage is a sham.

Of the four facts about his current life, the fourth one is the one that bothers him the least. He knows his worth and it isn't much. He's happy enough that his Human was sparing his pride and dignity. That he doesn't have to worry that one day he'd go home and see someone else with them or have to go and stake his claim loudly and over and over again.

Everything was still the same as before they married. He invests and it fails, his Master/ Spouse/ Human bails him out. He has no money to spend and Blackie is out of the wallet and in his hand to use. His brothers gang up on him and his Human/Master/Spouse is there to save him even if sometimes he did whatever crime he was being accused of.

Mammon is used to being treated unkindly because that's what you get when you failed a rebellion. What he isn't used to was this:

"Mammon, can you get my book from the table?" accompanied by a sweet, pleading smile he couldn't resist.

Or

"Darling, come with me to check out this new café?" said with a loving look and an arm hooked to his.

Or

"Hello Love, your tie is as crooked as always!" a complaint without any bitterness or dislike and was instead said with great care as hands slid to his neck to redo the tie interspersed with quick and short kisses to his exposed collar bones, neck and finally his lips.

In short Mammon isn't used to you or your tender affections or your niceness or you being kind to him. Because it isn't really real when you have this gleam in your eyes that he knows all too well. It's defiance of what is expected and he knows it won't end well if he really goes and let himself believe. Defiance is what led to him being a demon. Love was what made him Fall and he doesn't want to do it a second time.

Except...

Except that he was greedy for the things no one could have easily.

Except that you were the exception to his rule and you had made him the exception to yours.

You'd made yourself a home in his heart in a place where their Father once was, branded him as yours in a way no one would ever be able to do. Your love was not a finite source and you forgave him for his sins far more easily in a way Father never would.

You had made him better...good in a way that a demon shouldn't be and you had accepted all of him, flaws and all and still proclaimed him beautiful, eyes shining as if you were seeing who he was before the Fall, before the Celestial War and it makes it harder for him to resist.

To believe that this marriage meant more than a way to spite Lord Diavolo and his schemes, to spite his brothers, to spite their Father, and to spite every human that called him as he was a Greedy Bastard.

He muses all of this as he watched you putter around your home in the human world. One that both of you had bought and registered as shared property. He looks at the homey but extravagant decorations at the wide windows that let the sun in and how it reminds him of his former home.

"Mammon! Where did we put the liquid polish?!" You whined and turned to him.

He moves away from his place on the wall and guides you to the cabinet tools and teasingly said,

"Jeez, what would you do without me?"

"Well, good thing we'd never have to found out!" You retorted as you pulled him towards the loveseat and instead of the sensible option of the L-section.

His traitorous heart stutters.

And he knew that he was destined to Fall again. As you gently removed your wedding bands, hands tenderly holding his, and with your lips kissing the spot where his wedding ring would have been resting...he wishes that you'd catch him if he did Fall again. That his lungs would not hurt from the impact of landing on the cold hard ground, that he wouldn't be left to remake himself once more stained with mud and dirt.

He kisses you softly, tenderly in a way that he once used to before the War. When softness was not a death sentence and a crime. He holds you close and tight in an embrace that demons aren't supposed to do.

Here are the things Mammon doesn't know:

That somewhere between forming a pact with him and late movie nights you had seen him.

That you had never meant for things to end up like this, a complicated mess of emotions.

That Love was a choice and you had chosen him.

You had arrived in Devildom not knowing what to expect beyond the worse and Mammon on your first meeting had done nothing to prove you wrong.

Until that moment in the classroom. When he had told his story about helping that child in the hospital. You had taken one look at him and you knew he was telling the truth even when Levi said differently.

You knew best on how to make a truth sound like a lie afterall.

Somehow from that point you paid a closer attention to Mammon. Silently observing him and noting what he likes and dislikes. Piecing together who he was beyond the Avatar of Greed, beyond being the Second Brother, beyond the demon who you had a pact with.

It was a like a puzzle whose entire picture was discordant. He was a demon capable of ruthlessness, and yet he was an emotional mess. A demon that empathizes deeply. He was smart and yet he could be an idiot sometimes.

He was perhaps the most humanlike among them, in a way that never ceased to surprise you.

"Oi! Why are you staring at me like that?" Mammon complained.

And you kept your smile before looking away from him.

"!"

"You-you've been hanging out too much with Lucifer and Satan!"

"Oh? Have I?" You teased him.

"Yeah! You've got the same evil smile as them now!"

You laughed softly and beckoned him to come close. And Mammon, never one to deny himself of a chance to plaster himself unto you, leaned over. Your voice softly whispering unto his ear,

"I just wanted to look at my favorite demon."

And then a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth which Levi saw as he entered the Common Area. And it started from there, tender touches whenever one of the other brothers were present.

A hand on his shoulder, or using his body to lean on, a gentle tug of his hair to keep him quiet during a marathon sometimes with a kiss to his head to pacify him.

If you were feeling bold and particularly touch starved you'd watch a horror movie with him and be the big spoon just so he can hide his face on your chest and you'd kiss the crown of his head until the scary moments passed.

And if you were lucky you'd get to sleep with him. (If you were extra lucky he'd sleep naked and let himself be held and then you'd wake up in a tangle of limbs ,and Mammon would take your breath away with the way the moon shines on his sleeping visage.)

In rare moments, when it was just you and him, you'd look at him and try to see past who he was now to catch a glimpse of the Angel that was. And you like to think that you do see what he was as an Angel.

It was in the gentle way he'd somehow look when lost in his thoughts, a private moment within his mind that he'd let you see sometimes. It was in the way he'd touch you on the days were being a human was hard. It was the way he'd look at you when you'd give small trinkets that now decorated his room.

In the way his face lightened up when you'd place a spare toothbrush on your bathroom for him to use.

It was in this small moments where the two of you integrate each other into a routine that was slowly being shared between you two. Sometimes you loved him too much that it hurts.

In between the small gifts that reminded you of him, in the stolen glances, and pretending like everything wasn't a calculated dance between the two of you...foolishly you realized that you had already loved him. There was no grand epiphany or the feeling of time stopping.

There had only been you and him, in the music room. Teaching him how to play Tchaikovsky, laughing along and smiling at his antics. He was talented at it and you had wondered if it was inherent or it was due to his long lived life.

As quick as the notes that the two of you began to play, you realized you had fallen in love and you continued to do so, following his lead and not regretting it for a single moment.

"You're just like this piece" You thought as the tempo changes from fast and playful into slowing down into a gentle playful beat, and as the piece ended and the notes lingered in the air you knew in the very depths of your heart, you would never be able to love anyone the way you came to love Mammon.

"Mammon, marry me?"

You asked, impulsive but certain.

"I'm a demon!" He blurts out, cheeks red.

"And I'm a human."

"I'm drowning in debts—"

"I'm rich."

"Well I'm poor!"

"How can you be poor when my assets are yours to spend?"

"Yo-you can't just do that! What if a real scum emptied out your bank account?!"

"Don't be ridiculous, you're the only one who'll get this treatment."

He chokes on air and flails about.

"Those aren't good enough reasons!"

"Then what about this: I love you."

He stops and blinks and covers his face with his hands, "That's not fair..."

You smile and kiss him softly on his forehead.

"I love you," You repeat "in ten thousand realities I'd choose you and love you."

"Just me?" He asked with a small voice, vulnerable and yet filled with uncertain hope.

"Just you."

And he smiled at you so brightly it felt like seeing the sun for the first time. He never stopped surprising you.

"Mammon, be my only man."

"Okay."

-

The thing is that its easy to forget that love was a choice. That no matter how many times you've used a spear as a walking stick it didn't change the fact that it was still a spear. That in the euphoria of love, of being human, you forgot that they had to shed what made them an Angel.

The thing is its easy to get wrapped up in your hurt and drown yourself in it to avoid the uncomfortable truth of the matter:

You were just a blip in his long life, and yet he would have loved you with the entirety of his being.

Loved you without leaving some for himself. And you had selfishly decided to carve out his last remaining hope because you had made your decision long ago.

Your Mammon over everything else. Not even a version of him could compare to the one you held on the palm of your hands. So you had closed your eyes and turned around, went back and ignored the pleas of staying and heart broken sobs as he begged you.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't leave me, please..."

-

"You have questions." You state, as you cleaned your wedding ring.

The light catching the engraved words inside the ring.

"Why me?" He asked and hugged you tighter, clinging and drowning himself into the sweet scent of your shampoo.

You stayed silent, unsure with how much of your heart you wanted to bear. Afraid of being known and found wanting.

"Sometimes...I dream of him...the one you didn't choose..."

"The one I abandoned" You thought bitterly.

"He...he just went and lived in the human world...in the place you used to lived in..."

You kept silent and played with the ring in your hand.

"Did you know that he had planned on confessing...? He wanted to give her one of his rings..."

"Mammon..." You begged him.

"Tell me...why come back when the outcome would have been the same?"

"Because he wasn't you. He isn't my Mammon, I had no presence in his life!" You turned and glared at him, unwilling to shed tears, and reveal how the thought of losing him hurt more than leaving a version of him behind.

You didn't want him to know how you've grown used to him in your life that even if you had stayed back there you'd end up searching for the traces of him in that Mammon.

"I love you, this you that married me! I'm in love with you! Beyond reason! Beyond everything the world can offer me!" You cried at the unfairness of him asking this of you as if your love that was blatant to the world was not real.

"How am I supposed to believe you?" He asked.

Hurt and fear etched in his blue and gold flecked eyes.

"With the way that I am here, in this moment with you, in your embrace, cleaning our wedding rings together." You answered as you cupped his face and looked at him in the eye and let him see the depths of your love for him.

"This is real" You say kissing his forehead, the gap between his eyes and then his lips, softly and sweetly as if he was the most precious treasure on all three realms.

And he was.

"I am in love with you, the angel that fell, the demon that rose from the ashes of who you used to be. I am in love with the you who trips over his words, the you who loves your siblings. I am in love with you who is more human than me."

You confessed, "How can I not come back to you? When you are my home? Mammon, we could divorce and undo our pact and even so I would still love you and no one else would be able to fill the hole you'll leave in me if our love fades..."

"I'm scared that one day I'll have nothing left of you. That I wouldn't have any way to prove to myself that you were real."

He whimpered.

"Then let's find a way."

"What if we fail?"

"What if we succeed?"

He looked at you, tears in his eyes and it reminded you of that Mammon you had hurt so cruelly for the sake of the one you held carefully on the palm of your hands.

"The truth is that I have loved you from the start, in that classroom as you confessed your kindness."

"That long?!"

You smiled through your tears, "Do you understand now? I'm only kind because you are, you can be greedy of me, covet all of me. You can want all of my kindness because it was all for you."

You wiped his tears and kissed the corners of his eyes. Kissed his lips deeply and tasted him.

He held you closer to him, chest to chest as his hands moved to your hips. You rutted against him lost in the sensations of his lips against your skin, leaving a trail of kisses from your neck to your now bare open chest.

He presses harder against you, giving you the friction to heat up your insides and you moan when his fingers enter you and he begins his ministrations. You miss his lips against yours even if your hands had traversed his chest and was now fumbling to unzip his pants.

The sex this time would be different.

"Let me worship you" You asked with a dazed look in your eyes from the love and lust you felt for him.

He laughs softly as if he had never known you were not the most devout of believers.

"Turning away from your God now?"

You smile enticingly, kissing him on his cheek, resting your entire weight on him.

"One cannot serve both God and Mammon," you whispered in his ear "Therefore I will serve you."

And Mammon feels the heavy weight of your words, clutches you tighter as your words settle between the two of you and lingers in the air.

"You can't," He paused to exhale "you can't take that back."

"I'd never."

He takes you into the bedroom and you worship him. You leave a trail of kisses across his muscular and toned chest, leading downwards to his thick cock standing at attention.

You paused for a moment to admire him.

"Why did you stop?" He whined.

"I think I am starting to understand what Theresa was on about."

And Mammon snorts and looked smug up until you take his whole cock into your mouth and start blowing him.

"Fuck!" He curses hands curled into your hair as he thrusts into your mouth. You take more of him in letting him fuck your mouth while your hand teased his balls.

He looked at you and saw you look so smug even when your mouth was getting fucked.

"Why did I ever—" He moaned "think that you were innocent—"

You take him deeper and as your gag reflex went away and Mammon comes down in your throat and you let out a pleased hum that made him come harder.

"Because I'm good at being a real hedonist~"You teased him and you pushed him back down gently on the bed and climbed on top of him.

His hands rests on your hips

You think back on all the names and endearment you've called him as you idly traced upon the white markings on his skin. His cock was already twitching in interest.

"What are you thinking?" He asked, gasping as your right hand played with his nipple.

"What I would I name a painting of you" You replied before sucking on his other nipple and lightly biting it.

"And?"

You looked at him and smirked,

"Chamahel."

-

There is power in naming things.

He had fallen for so long that he had forgotten what he used to be before being Mammon. Before turning a word into a name and owning it.

In the place in his heart where their Father's Grace used to dwell, in that place in his mind where the name he had been bestowed was forcibly crossed off, becoming unutterable in his tongue something had changed. He had been redeemed.

And it had come in slow and almost unnoticeable small increments with each passing moment he had shared with you. Briefly, he wondered if it was because of your love.

And then he discarded that thought because nothing was more important than knowing that he was—is loved by you.

-

Here are the things that both of you have come to know:

That through love a demon, even an Avatar of Sin, can be redeemed.

That long lasting love exists only because both of you kept on choosing each other.

That a marriage can last through several lifetimes because the soul never forgets.

And that Paradise was not where Heaven was but instead in the time shared with your lover.

[harley-sunday]

Things We Lost in the Fire [07]

Summary: During a bank robbery you’re surprised when the criminals seem to recognize you and retreat in fear. Only after do you learn that your high school sweetheart now runs a nationwide crime syndicate and has you placed on a “no harm” list. You decide to pay him a visit after all these years. 

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader (F)

Warnings: Language. 

Word count: 2421

AN: This is it. This story was fun to write and almost wrote itself effortlessly. I hope you’ll like it. Please, please, please let me know what you think. ♥

Masterlist

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Detective Johansson starts, his voice lacking the emotion you weren’t expecting anyway. His eyes are trained on you, as if he’s still looking for clues. “I think you’ll be relieved to hear that Mr Hughes confessed to all the crimes we suspected him off.”

“Relieved is not-”

“We spoke to him at length on Thursday and Friday,” Johansson continues without missing a beat, effectively ignoring you, “and he gave us information that has led us to believe he was behind multiple robberies over the last fifteen years.” He clears his throat, “We also believe that the money stolen was used to pay for his treatment here.”

“Ok,” you draw out, not sure where he’s going with this. He still looks at you like you’re somehow a part of this. Which, technically, you are, but not in the way he might think.

“The investigation is still ongoing,” he pauses, his look falling somewhere over your shoulder to where you know Sebastian is, “we’re hoping to find out who his accomplices were sooner rather than later. We know Mr Hughes couldn’t have pulled this off all by himself.”

The silence that follows his statement feels rehearsed, a way to make you talk, but he should know by now you know how to keep silent. You are glad to hear Josh kept his promise and kept Seb’s team out of this. If what Sebastian has told you is true it should be almost impossible to link back to those guys. Or him.

“While I still believe you should have come to us first,” his voice interrupts your thoughts and you look up at him with what you hope is an apologetic smile, “I also believe that in the light of recent events and Mr Hughes’ confession, it wouldn’t have made much of a difference.” He holds out his hand, “You are no longer tied to this investigation.”

“Thank you,” you say as you take his hand and shake it, relieved to hear the words.

He holds on a little too long though and nods to somewhere over your shoulder, “Who’s he?”

You pull your hand back before you glance over your shoulder where you see Sebastian talking to Betty, his hands in his pockets, his demeanor relaxed, as if he has nothing to hide. You can’t help but smile when you turn back to Detective Johansson which is exactly how Josh told you to do it, “That’s Sebastian Stan. He went to high school with Josh and me.” You hesitate, looking down to add to the sentiment, “I used to have the biggest crush on him back then.”

There’s another silence then, not rehearsed this time and so you can tell it makes him a little uncomfortable. 

“I should go,” Detective Johansson says then. “Goodbye.” 

“Goodbye, Detective.” You watch as he walks away, hands tucked somewhere deep in his pockets, his head held high even though his whole body screams defeat. Someone stands beside you then and an involuntary shiver runs down your spine when you catch a whiff of his cologne.

“You ok?”

You just nod.

His hand finds yours then, and he gently squeezes it, “I’ll be seeing you, dragă.”

Letting your head hang you feel his fingers slide out from in between yours and you want to tell him, “Don’t go,” but you can’t. He needs time to grieve, time to mourn the loss of his best friend, time to set part two of Josh’ plan in motion. And so you try blink away the tears that have formed in your eyes, not caring that they end up falling anyway, because you need time too. 

Two weeks later you find yourself at the end of yet another tour of your house, to make sure you’re not forgetting anything. Not that there’s much left, the three boxes you wanted to take with you already shipped off to their new destination, and there have been several trips to local thrift shops already to donate books, small trinkets, and whatever else you no longer need. All that’s left inside is the furniture the house came with, some clothes, and toiletries. 

You’re set to officially move in with him early August, just in time to celebrate his birthday together in your new home. To say you are counting down the days would be an understatement. Only thirty-five days left, you realize with a smile.

Your phone beeps then, letting you know you’ve received a new message, your smile growing even wider when you see it’s from him.

At the airport, almost ready to board, I’ll see you tonight, dragă.

You type a quick reply, telling him you can’t wait. As you turn around to put your phone down on the dining table your eyes fall on the picture of Josh that you’ve put up on the mantle above the fireplace, on of the few things that will stay here until you actually move out. There’s a candle next to the frame that you try to keep burning at all times, but it’s out now and so you set out to find a new one.

When you do, and you’ve placed it in the holder, you take a moment to thank Josh before you light it. You know you’ll never be able to repay him for everything he’s done, that all you can do is live the live he wanted you and Sebastian to have and enjoy every minute of it. 

And that’s exactly what you plan on doing. 

“Do you think it worked?”

He shrugs, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his lips when he puts his arm around you, pulling you closer to him, using his feet to softly rock the porch swing you’re both sitting on. 

As you look out over the garden at the back of his mother’s house you spot the moon hanging somewhere low in the night sky. It’s still warm outside, not unusual for the end of July, and the crickets are taking full advantage, their singing almost like a soundtrack to this lovely evening. 

It’s then his mother walks onto the porch, carrying a tray with three tumblers of Scotch that she carefully sets down. She hands each of you a glass before she takes her own, leaning against the railing next to you. Raising her glass, she looks at both of you with a smile, “To my son and getting to meet his new, old girlfriend.” 

You can’t help but smile, holding up your own glass, “Cheers.”

“Noroc,” Sebastian says, clinking his glass against his mother's, then yours. 

“I still don’t really see why we had to do this,” you admit, even though you had a lovely evening. The restaurant he chose was good, of course it was, and the conversation between the three of you flowed effortlessly, like it always did. You still wish his stepfather could have been there too, but he was away for business and couldn’t get out of the trip no matter how hard he tried. 

“Backstory, dragă,” he says quite matter-of-factly. “Just like all those dates I’ve been taking you on for the last month.”

“Hmm,” you agree before taking another sip of your drink.

“It makes sense,” he continues, “at this point in our relationship for you to meet my Mom.” 

“Sebastian,” his mother says then, with the Romanian pronunciation you’ve come to love so much, even though it sounds like she’s berating him. He must hear it too.

“What?” He laughs, “I know it seems,” he hesitates, “silly, for lack of a better word, but we need to do this. As far as Detective Johansson knows we just went to high school together, so it would be weird for her to just move in with me, right?”

Both his mother and you nod.

“It’s all part of Josh’ plan so that we could have a way out,” he says, taking a sip of Scotch before he continues, “we meet again at his funeral, exchange numbers, start texting each other and before you know I’ve asked her on a date.”

“That was a good date,” you muse, thinking back to the Italian place he took you, the same as where you had your first date, the whole evening basically a repeater of that time nineteen years ago. Minus the braces and the giggling on your part. 

“It was,” he agrees, gently kissing your temple. “Just like the five dates we had after that, dragă.”

“But, you live on the other side of the country,” you offer, because you remember Josh’ words too. “And it’s getting serious, because on our last date you asked me to move in with you and I said yes.”

“Yup,” he agrees with a grin, “but it would me weird to move in with me without you meeting my family first, right?”

“Right.”

“So here we are.”

“Here we are,” you echo with a smile, raising your glass once again. 

His mother sighs, “And all this just in case you’re still under investigation? Even though there’s nothing that indicates that you are?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian nods. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Plus, I had a wonderful time tonight,” you offer. “It was great seeing you again, Georgeta,” with a wink then, “under somewhat more normal circumstances than last time anyway.”

She laughs, “I wouldn’t be so sure about those circumstances, Fată.”

You feel yourself tear up at the use of the word for both girl and daughter and so you get up and give her a hug, whispering a quiet, “I promise to take care of him,” 

EPILOGUE

“Seb?” 

There’s no reply and you furrow your brows, because there’s no reason for him not to be at home. You lean in and grab your purse from the passenger’s seat, digging around for you phone to see if he’s called while you were on your way home, but there are no missed calls. Not unusual because the signal is weak once you pass Capetown anyway, even though you are in California and never really not that far from civilization.  

“Seb?” you try again, edging closer to the house, the moon casting a faint glow over the hills around you. Still nothing.

“Fuck,” you mutter quietly, trying your hardest to keep your cool, not wanting to get lost in the what ifs. Still, your mind wanders, figuring that if this means his past has finally caught up with you, you’ve at least had three really good months together here on the west coast. 

You fell instantly in love with the house he built for you, a project he started after he left Pawleys Island. It's a simple two-story cabin, but it's home and the view you have of the sea and the rugged coast making you feel like this is where you belong more than Savannah ever did. 

Three months of living here have taught you the bottom step of the stairs leading up to the front porch creaks and so you step onto the second, trying your hardest not to make a sound. There’s a faint glow coming from inside the house and you see the front door is slightly ajar, and is that music you hear coming from inside?

Must be losing your mind, you think and shake your head, trying to gather the courage you know you’ll need to actually step inside. You take a deep breath, step onto the third step, the porch next, making it to the front door in four quick steps. There’s a small smile tugging on your lips then, because yes, there is actually music playing and you recognize the song as one of your favorites from U2. Deciding things can’t be that bad as you thought they would be you open the door, your smile growing even wider.

There’s a trail of lit candles leading from the front door, past the stairs to the living room and you have no other choice than to follow them, closing the front door with your left floor and dropping your purse at the bottom of the stairs. The candles continue through the living room towards the back of the house, where you find the french doors that lead to the terrace are open, a heart of candles waiting for you outside.

It’s there you find him, in the middle of that heart, looking ever so handsome in black jeans, and a simple grey sweater with leather patches on his shoulder, no doubt because you’ve told him countless times how much you love this look on him. He grins at you, a twinkle in his eyes when he holds out his hand and waits for you to take it.

“Seb,” you start, your voice catching somewhere in your throat. 

“Ssh,” he says, taking your hand in his, “you just need to listen, dragă.” 

You join him inside the heart, butterflies taking over your stomach because of course you know where this is going.

“I love you,” he says with a smile that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. “And I had this whole speech prepared, but I’m nervous as fuck, so,” he lets go of your hand and takes a small black box out of his pocket, "for now all you need to know is that I love you.”

You want to say something, tell him that you love him too, but it’s then he goes down on one knee and opens the box, “Of all the things I lost in that fire sixteen years ago, losing you was what hurt me the most. I never want to lose you again, dragă, ever." He looks up at you, tears glistening in his eyes, "Will you please spend the rest of your life with me? Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you say through your own tears, “Always yes.” 

- FIN - 

=====

Taglist: @blastaz​ | @dontbetooobvious​ | @weirdfanaus​ | @lindsaywill177​ | @oliviastan17​

[judgmentofcorruption]

Episode 7–Your Daughter is There; Scene 4

Judgment of Corruption, pages 212-222

After returning home alone, Gallerian headed to his bedroom without turning on any lights and collapsed upon his bed.

He had let go of the four servants he had once had. Including his old friend Bruno.

He didn’t need them anymore.

Gallerian was the only one living in his home these days.

“Michelle…”

He staggered to his feet and left his bedroom. His destination, as he walked through the hall, was—the room of his late daughter, Michelle.

He opened the door and lit a lamp.

--There was someone else in there besides Gallerian.

The moment he saw her face, Gallerian’s own warped to one of anger.

“…What are you doing in here…Ma!”

Ma was lounging in bed as though she owned the place.

“Yawn…” Ma yawned loudly, sleepily rubbing her eyes. “…Oh my, you’ve finally come home. Welcome back, Gallerian.”

“This is Michelle’s room! You can’t just barge in here!” Gallerian was so maddened with rage that he didn’t even have the wherewithal to chide her for sneaking into his house. “I don’t want Michelle to…My memories of Michelle…for someone like you—”

“—You look dreadful. I can tell you aren’t eating well. Michelle would be so heartbroken to see her father like this.”

“Don’t you dare speak of her so flippantly!”

“Oh dear, how frightening you are. Do try to calm down a little—I have something I would like to speak with you about today, regarding Michelle.”

“…What is it?” Having regained at least a little bit of his composure at last, Gallerian sat down in a nearby chair. “The fact that you chose to come here in the middle of the night like this…This better be good.”

“—You do recall…what we discussed before, about the ‘Vessels of Deadly Sin’, yes?”

“Yeah…Those items that demons dwell in, that were written of in the ‘Daughter of Evil’ book you gave to me.”

Just as he said, Gallerian had learned of the ‘Vessels of Deadly Sin’ when he had read of them showing up in the story of the “Daughter of Evil”.

There were seven total in the world, and they each had a different demon dwelling inside them. Those who made contracts with these demons obtained various benefits to their bodies and spirits, but without exception all of them eventually came to receive an unhappy end.

Great “sins” always held a commensurate “punishment”—so it goes.

Right before the S.S. Titanis had sunk, Ma had suggested that Gallerian collect these “Vessels of Deadly Sin”. She had also informed him that once he had all seven, they would grant any wish.

At the time, Gallerian had no unattainable wishes. So he had all too quickly rejected her suggestion.

--But what about now?

“One of those ‘Vessels of Deadly Sin’ is now—in my possession,” Ma said, bringing out a small blue spoon. “The ‘Marlon Spoon’—the spoon in which dwells the ‘Demon of Greed’, which debuted in the story of the ‘Daughter of Evil’.”

“Those who contract with it are said to obtain an enormous fortune—There is one other thing I remember, hearing that name. It came up in my mother’s trial records. One of her charges was that she had stolen it from the home of Mata Corpa—Hey, wait a second!”

Gallerian stood up, agitated.

“What’s wrong?”

“That should be in the Dark Star Bureau’s storerooms! How do you have it now!?”

“I stole it,” Ma said nonchalantly.

“You stole it…That’s a crime—”

“It’s fine, no one’s going to figure it out.”

“I learned about it, just now! And I’m the director of the Dark Star Bureau!”

“Then overlook it.”

“Like I could do that!”

“I guess it can’t be helped…Well then, I return it to you, Sir Director,” Ma said, holding out the spoon to Gallerian.

“…I can’t accept this. It’s not my property.”

“No. It’s yours from now on. You’ll need it, you see.”

“What are you—” Gallerian had moved to shove the spoon back in her hands, but before he knew it he had grabbed it and was gazing at it as though entranced. “…What is this? This bewitching sensation? It’s clear that this has a bizarre power…But it doesn’t feel to me like it has anything sinister like a demon inside it.”

“You’re exactly right. There is no longer a demon inside of this article. You can no longer become rich by contracting with it.”      

“Then that makes this little more than a simple spoon now?”

“No. A different being is inside it, in the demon’s place.”

“And that would be…what?”

“—‘Adam’. The remains of the husband of the original sinner, who has wandered about for ages. This soul that has always searched for the one that he loves will surely grant your wish for you.”

“My…wish…”

“And I—don’t need to ask what that is.” Ma smiled suspiciously. “A contract with ‘Adam’ is very simple—You need only offer yourself up to the radiance of his soul…Come, Gallerian. You alone must decide.”

“I…I could…see Michelle again—”

“--Decide now! Gallerian Marlon!”

And—

Gallerian made his choice.

.

I don’t need to make any wagers here.

That choice—was a mistake, Gallerian.

.

The next day.

Arriving at Gallerian’s estate, Bruno slammed the door to the entrance open without ringing the doorbell.

“Are you in, sir!? I have some news I’d like to report to you right away!”

Though there was no reply, Bruno went deeper into the house.

Gallerian was in the middle of reading a book in his study.

“Oh, if it isn’t Bruno. What’s wrong? You’re in such a state—”

“It’s about the sinking of the S.S. Titanis! We were able to capture the culprit yesterday!”

“What’d you just say!? Is this true?”

“Yes, we’re certain. The sinking was perpetrated intentionally by a band of ruffians in Elphegort. All the members involved, including the one directly responsible, have been secured by PN.”

“PN? –I hadn’t heard that they were investigating into this matter…”

Bruno’s face abruptly clouded. “…You have my apologies, sir. In truth, I had them mobilize behind the scenes—Shiro, Hel, and Feng are not culpable in this matter. It was all done by me.”

“Is that right…That sounds like you.” Gallerian smiled kindly, as though to console Bruno. “Thank you, Bruno. Relax—the Dark Star Bureau isn’t going to be charging PN on this matter. Naturally—we won’t be charging you, either.”

“Sir…”

“Whatever the case, this is good news. Now…my wife can rest in peace.”

“That’s true, I’m very—” As Bruno had begun to shed tears of gratitude, his expression suddenly grew stiff.

He had realized.

That there was something off about what Gallerian had just said.

.

Gallerian had said, “my wife can rest in peace”.

Not, “my wife and daughter”.

.

“Ah, that’s right. I do have something I’d like to speak with you about,” Gallerian said, clapping his hands together. “I was wondering if you would be able to return to work for me as a servant.”

“Y-yes…Of course I will…I’d be more than happy to.”

“I see, excellent. Leaving aside days when I’m off, it makes me a bit anxious to leave her by herself when I’m at work. I’d feel much better if you were with her.”

“…What are you…saying…sir…?”

“We’ve had to call off her enrollment in Levin University as a result of the after-effects of her accident. She can’t move her legs, so she won’t be able to walk around outside either. I imagine she’ll be quite bored every day. I was hoping you could be someone for her to talk to, Bruno.”

“…Please…Come to your senses…Gallerian…Your daughter…Michelle is…”

Tears were beginning to trickle down Bruno’s cheeks.

They were not tears of joy that they had captured a criminal.

They were tears of sorrow, that his dear friend had been broken.

“Hey, Michelle. Rejoice. Bruno has come back to us.”

Gallerian stood, smiling, and started to head for the room that had belonged to Michelle.

Bruno followed after him.

--And when he saw what was inside, an expression of shock came to his face.

“That doll was in the forest—How did it end up here!?”

The doll that looked like Michelle was sitting prim and proper on the bed.

Gallerian started to talk to it.

“Yes, you must be very happy, Michelle. Ha ha ha, I know how much you like Bruno.”

“…”

“Your papa knows the truth. That your first love was actually—Hey hey, don’t blush so hard. Haha, I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t say that right in front of him…What’s that?”

“…”

“Oh no, well, that is true. You’re free to fall in love. But there’s an order to everything, you know. Once you’ve grown up a little more—”

“…”

“Huh, you’re saying I’m too old-fashioned? I don’t think that’s true. Just because something is new doesn’t mean that it’s good, Michelle. Look, even the dress that you like so much is based on a design that was originally made over a century ago.”

“…”

“You’re saying that’s a different matter entirely? Oh no, they’re not different at all. There’s this old saying in law. ‘Not every piece of limestone has a diamond in it’.”

“…”

“Ah, that’s right. We talked about this before. But there’s value in discussing Mussel Mean’s law theory any number of times. In 876, Mussel--”

“…”

“Okay, okay. We’ll give that a rest for now. Let’s talk about what I’m giving you as presents for your next birthday.”

“…”

“Huh? A wineglass, a spoon, a mirror, sewing scissors, and a sword!? That’s quite a lot. Your papa doesn’t actually have a very high salary. I was surprised myself, when I first became director. I can see now why Hanma Baldured loved bribes so much. And what would you even use a sword for in the first place?”

“…”

“If it’s for cooking I would think you could just use a knife.”

“…”

“Jakokuan swords cut differently!? Who told you something like that?”

“…”

“Ah, so it was Ma. I don’t know how far you can trust the things she says. Although I actually find that kind of cute about her…Er, don’t tell your mama I said that! Ah, that’s right. Mama’s dead now, isn’t she. Then it’s fine.”

“…”

“Oh no, I understand how you feel. But being married isn’t such a simple thing. In her case—"

.

Gallerian continued to talk.

On and on.

On and on.

To a doll that made no reply.

<<prev------directory------next>>

[lectophile]

Words of Wisdom: Crooked Kingdom

He had become a great beast, and yet that beast would devour him.

A card game is like a duel. It’s the little cuts and slashes that set the stage for the final killing stroke.

The really bad monsters never look like monsters.

Words like to ride the water.

Why build such monuments to death?

You’re a stolen painting...

I’m pragmatic. If I were cruel, I’d give him a eulogy instead of a conversation.

We meet fear... We greet the unexpected visitor and listen to what he has to tell us. When fear arrives, something is about to happen.

Better terrible truths than kind lies.

No, you’re the man who sits idly by, congratulating yourself on your decency, while the monster eats his fill. At least a monster has teeth and a spine.

Could forgiveness come if she killed not to survive but because she burned with living, luminous hatred?

You are forsaken. As you have turned your back on me, so will they turn their backs on you.

She could not pretend those words had been conjured by strategy or even animal cunning. The magic they’d worked had been born of belief. An ugly enchantment.

He felt free, dangerous, like lightening rolling over the prairie.

His only crime had been putting his faith in his son.

Trust but verify.

Because the law here is profit.

He feeds corruption with corruption.

Even better men can be bested.

Patience would bring all his enemies to their knees in time.

You build in safeguards for failures, but something in the safeguards ends up causing an unforeseen failure.

Never underestimate the public’s desire to get something for nothing.

We are not our fathers.

You don’t win by running one game.

He was just a boy fueled by a white flame of rage, one that threatened to burn the pretense of the hard-won civility he maintained to ash.

The Saints hear prayers wherever they’re spoken.

Praying and wishing are not the same thing.

Sometimes the trick to getting the best of a situation was just to wait. If you didn’t like the weather, you didn’t rush into the storm—you waited until it changed.

The silence between them was dark water. He could not cross it. He couldn’t walk the line between the decency she deserved and the violence this path demanded. If he tried, it might get them both killed. He could only be who he was—a boy who had no comfort to offer. So he would give her what he could.

But that debt is mine to pay.

...that fear is a phoenix. You can watch it burn a thousand times and still it will return.

You sink into trouble like it’s a warm bath.

I wait with open ears and a ready heart.

Your enemies are my enemies, and I stand with you against any foe...

There is no greater honor than to stand by your side.

Meeting you was a disaster, but I am grateful for that disaster. I needed a cataclysm to shake me from the life I knew. You were an earthquake, a landslide.

You aren’t a follower, you’re every blossom in the wood blooming at once. You are a tidal wave. You’re a stampede. You are overwhelming.

He didn’t need to be popular to survive.

You were angry. Angry wears off. I needed you righteous.

There’s always a price to be paid for greatness.

Everyone can shoot, but not everyone can aim.

I cannot be anything other than what I am, and if my gifts can help people, then it’s my duty to use them.

What kind of mother would I be to my son if I hid away my talents? If I let fear be my guide in this life?

You knew what I was when you asked me to choose you... Do not now suggest that I be anything else.

No matter the height of the mountain, the climb is the same.

It was a planet and she was its moon.

What a luxury to turn your back on luxury.

You’re weak because you’re afraid of people seeing your weakness. You’re letting shame decide who you are.

We can endure all kinds of pain. It’s shame that eats men whole.

Our work is death, and it is holy.

You cannot fear death and be it’s true emissary.

But I ask no money for the lives I take. They are the jewels I wear. They are my glory in this world and will bring me honor in the next.

I don’t hold a grudge. I cradle it. I coddle it. I feed it fine cuts of meat and send it to the best schools.

We want to create something that outlasts us.

But if you couldn’t open a door, you just had to make a new one.

When they backed you into a corner, you cut a hole in the roof.

But he couldn’t fix something he couldn’t catch a hold of.

It was all black desert, starless sky, barren earth.

That had been heat, fire, light. This was a cold flame, one that burned low and blue.

We are tied to the power of creation itself, the making at the heart of the world.

But maybe death wasn’t just one thing.

It came after the shipwreck, when the tide moved against you and the sky had gone dark. It was the first sight of land, the hope of shelter and even salvation that might await you on a distant shore.

The city had come alive, and it was angry.

There’s no time to constantly be apologizing for existing.

But when someone does wrong, when we make mistakes, we don’t say we’re sorry. We promise to make amends.

This action will have no echo.

Stop treating your pain like it’s something you imagined. If you see the wound is real, then you can heal it.

I’m dying anyway, I’m just doing it slow.

I love you with all my lying, thieving, worthless heart...

He’s the house. He has the resources to play until your luck runs out.

I can’t live in a city where I can’t hold up my head.

It was a mad, spiky monster of a plan, and that was what it had to be for them to succeed.

There was always an angle, and he was an expert at finding it.

Words have not been invented for such an occasion.

Every sin makes the shadow stronger, until eventually the shadow is stronger than you.

The distance between them felt like nothing. It felt like miles.

Violence was easy.

He clung to the tether of her voice.

It hurt to stand here like this, so close to the circle of her arms.

He ignored the sting in her heart.

He didn’t deserve peace and he didn’t deserve forgiveness, but if he was going to die today, maybe the one thing he’d earned was the memory of her—brighter than anything he would ever have a right to—to take with him to the other side.

He might as well go to meet his death in style.

Crazy enough, but not stupid enough.

This city’s price is blood, and I’m happy to pay with yours.

Why run from the amazing things you can do?

This was the kiss he’d been waiting for. It was a gunshot. It was prairie fire.

Rich men want to believe they deserve every penny they’ve got, so they forget what they owe to chance. Smart men are always looking for loopholes. They want an opportunity to game the system.

The toughest mark is an honest one.

Sometimes, a proper thief doesn’t just take. He leaves something behind.

The dead will wait, but I won’t.

But this was different. This was decay.

And that was what destroyed you in the end: the longing for something you could never have.

So let’s go show them they picked the wrong damn fight.

Maybe she should feel ashamed, maybe even frightened. But she hadn’t been made for shame.

But just as surely as life connected everything, so did death.

She was the Queen of mourning, and in its depths, she would never drown.

It willl be your honor to serve me in death.

The blood you spill is the blood of kings. You are not fit for such a gift.

We learn to hold our heads as if we wear crowns. We learn to wring magic from the ordinary. That was how you survived when you weren’t chosen, when there was no royal blood in your veins. When the world owed you nothing, you demanded something of it anyway.

There is no shame in meeting a worthy opponent. It means there is more to learn, a welcome reminder to pursue humility.

She had chosen to live freely as a killer rather than die quietly as a slave, and she could not regret that.

Even now, n this last moment, she looked like a girl from a story, destined for greatness. She was a queen without mercy, a figure carved in ivory and amber.

May you make more than misery in your next life.

Suffering is like anything else. Live with it long enough, you learn to like the taste.

Fate has plans for us all.

It was a smile he thought he might die to earn again.

There’s so much in the world you don’t have to be afraid of, if you could only open your eyes.

Lightening doesn’t like a master.

Be free, as you were meant to be. Be a warrior, as you always have been.

I have been made to protect you. Even in death, I will find a way.

You will meet him again in the next life, but only if you suffer this now.

Funny thing, when you train an animal to obey, sometimes they get too easy to command. Better to keep them a little wild.

You don’t win by running one game.

You can only sharpen a blade so far. In the end, it comes down to the quality of the metal.

Loving you made him better.

He went easier into the next world knowing he’d done good in this one.

Laughing at my jokes. Forgiving me when I was foolish. Never trying to make me feel small. It doesn’t matter if it’s next month, or next year, or ten years from now, those will be the the things I remember when I see you again.

Try to catch hold of me and you’ll find you’re trying to hold air.

But it was one thing to be a thief in a house and quite another to be a guest.

He had been so much of her world for so long.

Be the thing they all fear when they close their eyes at night.

She’d need only move the smallest amount and they would be touching. He was that close. He was that far from reach.

She understood suffering and she knew it was a place she could not follow, not unless she wanted to drown too.

She would fight for him, but she could not heal him. She would not waste her life trying.

Crows remember human faces. They remember the people who feed them, who are kind to them. And then people who wrong them too.

Her mind refused the image before her. This could not be real. It was an illusion, a false reflection, a lie made in rainbow-bird glass. She would breathe again and it would shatter.

The world was made of miracles, unexpected earthquakes, storms that came from nowhere and might reshape a continent.

Her heart was a river that carried her to the sea.

You think you’re finished with a place, but that doesn’t mean the place is finished with you.

[bellebon]

Stolen Wallet and Stolen Hearts

Ok I know that Kiyana and Roscoe have like no interaction while he’s the boss but like, come on guys. Their dynamic is so freaking good despite it. Although I suppose this is what I get for rarepair hell. Enjoy!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a beautiful day to be threatened. Kiyana gasped, hands coming as if to block her attacker. 

“Come on Darling, we’re both busy people.” The furry eared man in front of her winked at her and brought his knife closer to her. Kiyana whimpered, hunching her shoulders, and took another step back. 

“Please, I don’t have anything on me.” Her eyes darted to the busy street before back to him. “I just want to get to my job, please, I'll be fired if I’m late.” She tried to step to the side but was dragged back and shoved against the wall. Kiyana froze, feeling cool metal against her throat.

“Now Darling we both know that isn’t true.” The knife drifted down, tugging against her choker. “These are expensive clothes.” He grinned, revealing his sharp animalistic teeth. 

Kiyana blinked and felt tears running down her cheeks. “Please don’t.” Her voice caught and Kiyana couldn’t stop a sob. The knife drifted lower, slicing her choker, and drawing a bead of blood. The man drew the knife back, tilting it to watch run down the blade. 

“Now, let’s-“ he was interrupted by the sound of metal on metal. The knife clattered on the ground but the sound of the man grunting drew Kiyana’s attention. He was doubled over, a blond ponytail dangling past his neck, and coughing. 

“Now now, that’s not how we treat a lady around here.” A smooth voice drew her attention. A well dressed man watched her attacker as he lowered the cane he had just used to disarm her attacker. “Miss, why don’t you come over here?” Kiyana glanced at his horns and then back at her attacker. Everyone knew what horns meant, but that didn’t mean that he had been the one who killed someone. 

She quickly stepped over, letting him guide her behind him. As Kiyana passed him she lifted a wallet, tucking it into her pocket, and covered the movement by wiping her tears. Based on the coat he wore, this should be a good grab. If she was right, those were expensive boots as well. “Thank you.” She sniffled. “I was so scared.” She trailed off, looking down at the ground and twisting one of her pale pink pigtails. 

 The stranger nodded, his lavender hair gently moving with the movement, and gave her a smile. “Run along now, wouldn’t want you to get fired.” Oh right, her excuse. Kiyana nodded and backed away, watching the furry eared man. “Don’t worry, I'll make sure that he doesn’t follow you.” His expression was pleasant but his tone was dangerous. Perhaps, she thought, it’s time to go before he realized her actions and turned that cane on her. 

——————————-

Bassem accepted the new ice pack that Kiyana offered. “Hey, next time we do this how about you threaten me for once.” She put the warmed ice pack back into the freezer. He lifted his shirt, revealing deep bruises on his stomach from where the cane had hit him. The deep blue and purple bruises strongly contrasted his tan skin.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have cut my ribbon.” It was really cute and it was ruined. “Beside, who’d expect a cute girl like me to hurt you?” Kiyana plopped down next to her friend and pulled out his ponytail. She brushed her fingers through his brown and blond hair. “Pink pigtails and eyes aren’t the most threatening.” She glazed over her webbed ears and their implications.

Bassem rolled his eyes and leaned against her. “Tell me that it was worth it, how much did we get?” He closed his yellow eyes, ears drooping. She hummed, continuing to brush his hair.

“There was some cash but not nearly what I expected from him. No credit cards either which was weird but considering that he didn’t want to call the police…” Kiyana sighed. “That sucks, I was looking forward to shopping again.” Bassem groaned.

“Glad that we have enough to cover my medical bills.” He droned, tilting his head to look at her. ”At least he didn’t go for my piercings for once.” Kiyana tutted and started to braid his hair. 

“You have to admit, he was cute.” She tied off the braid and let it drop. “I wonder what he does. That tall and handsome, I wonder if he’s a model?” 

“Oh gosh Kiyana. A suit and some long hair and you’re in love.” She shoved him away, ignoring his groan of pain. 

“Shut up, you’re no better. Or have you forgotten Mariel?” He glared at her, wincing as he stood.

“I don’t have to take this from you.” Her laughter followed him out of the family room. She stopped once his door slammed shut. 

Kiyana stood up from their couch and stretched. “Hm, maybe I should grab some dinner? Not cooking sounds great after today.” She was flush with cash and it would be a nice treat for Bassem. She pulled on her sweater and grabbed her purse. “Hey Bassem, I'm heading out.” 

————————————

That beautiful day had turned into a dusky evening. Kiyana hummed as she made her way to the Thai place that Bassem liked. She watched as people hurried to their destination. He’s probably coming home from work she idly thought as she watched a man in a grey button down shirt hurry by. He swerved to avoid getting close to the woman with a fox’s tail and nearly ran into a light pole. The woman made a face and pushed on, clearly used to this. 

Kiyana passed by the grocery store they shopped at. It was at the end of a strip of stores and family-owned. Maybe I can grab some ice cream too? We deserve it after- Her train of thought was halted by a hand grabbing her arm and dragging her down the street. 

She gasped in pain as she was slammed against the wall in pain. “What” Kiyana was once again cut off as she felt metal at her neck. She could make out what appeared to be a carved bird that must have been the knife’s handle. Her attacker cleared his throat, drawing her attention.

A white mask with protruding red horns watched her. “Oh shit.” Kiyana knew that mask. Everyone in the crime world knew that mask. Corvus, leader of the Rose family, stared down at her. He smirked at her realization.

“I’ve heard that you’ve been rather naughty today Kiyana.” Kiyana sucked in a breath. He knew her name. Corvus knew her name. 

Did he know Bassem? 

“It’s not very nice to steal from someone protecting you. Some might call it ungrateful.” He pressed the flat side of the knife harder against her neck. “Do you have anything to say for that?” 

Maybe if she pissed him off, he wouldn’t go after Bassem. “Are you talking about that wallet? I found it and whoever lost it didn’t have any id in it so I couldn’t return it.” A thought came to her. She glanced up at his hair and gave him what she hoped was a playful grin. “If you don’t want to lose your wallet, you should be more careful with it. They have a tendency to slip out of pockets.” 

He wasn’t smirking anymore. “What makes you think that was mine?” He tilted her chin up with his knife. “Wouldn’t it be an incredibly idiotic idea to steal from someone like me?” This would be incredibly attractive if Kiyana wasn’t about to die. 

“I wouldn’t have found your wallet if I knew how poor a boss you are. For how expensive you dress, you don’t carry that much.” This was it, she was going to die in an alley over a stolen wallet. She had survived the Rokken Rose turf wars only to die because of a wallet. 

She had expected pain and choking on blood, not him throwing his head back in laughter. Absently, she noted how his ponytail caught the light. Twilight suited him. Yet, through his laughter the blade never left her. 

“I don’t know if you’re brave or an idiot.” Corvus chuckled, grinning as he took her in. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing stealing wallets anyway?” 

She took a steadying breath. “What’s a handsome man like you doing threatening a cute girl like me?” Kiyana shot back. If he was going to kill her, she’d get a last word in at least. 

The knife left her chin and she heard it slide back into its sheath. Corvus still towered over her but he tilted his head, as if trying to understand her. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Kiyana hummed, shifting to lean against the wall instead of being pressed. “Well that’s a personal question, you know. At least buy me dinner first if you want to know my tragic backstory.” She twisted the end of her pigtail with her right hand. “Or I suppose I could take you out as a thank you for your rescue earlier.”

“I feel that i’ll be paying for that dinner either way. What with you using that found money.” He took her left hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles while watching her. “Unfortunately I have other obligations this evening and must pass. Besides, I doubt Bassem would want you abandoning him after he took that beating for you.” 

So he does know about Bassem there went that hope. Although it didn’t seem like Corvus felt like killing her just yet. “Another night maybe? You didn’t answer my question either.” Her hand felt so warm in his. Whether that was from his glove or that kiss, she wasn’t sure. 

“Perhaps, although Kiyana I do have one request.” He let go of her hand and stepped back.

She raised an eyebrow. “Hm? What would that be?”

“Don’t steal from any other crime lords.” 

She raised her hand to cover a smile. “I doubt that any of them would come to a lady’s aid. But I suppose I’ll try.” She acted as if the request was a burden and he shook his head. 

“Have a safe walk home Miss Kiyana, it wouldn’t do for you to get threatened while i’m not around.” With that he turned and left. She watched him go and waited a few minutes before leaving the alley herself. 

She felt her pocket out of curiosity and found his wallet missing. Kiyana laughed and wondered when he had gotten it back. It didn’t matter, she had removed the cash earlier. “I wonder how long before he realizes.” 

In the end she told Bassem that there was a long line for ice cream and that’s what took her so long.

[lon3lynation]

A Clexa AU Story that includes a soul searching road trip, long-distance friendship to relationship, phone conversations and Clarke demanding her car back from a thieving dick Lexa. Oh, and a lot of internal Lexa thoughts.

 Chapter 2: Midnight City

Previous Chapter

"Waiting in a car Waiting for a ride in the dark Drinking in the lights Following the neon signs

Waiting for a word Looking at the milky skyline The city is my church It wraps me in its blinding twilight

Waiting in a car Waiting for the right time Waiting in a car Waiting for the right time"

Midnight City by M83

Five years later…

Anya’s mentoring truly paid off in many ways for her. No longer did she have to scrape by to cover her essential needs. She didn't have to rely on trying to live on minimum wage and shitty tips anymore. She didn't even need to work a proper job unless she was bored with nothing else to do in a specific town. She could finally set aside her worries and focus solely on figuring herself out.

Unfortunately, figuring herself out still felt like a far fetch goal as the years passed.

There were days where she felt most content when Anya was around. She made sure to savor her time with her because her mentor doesn't like to stay in one place for too long. They would go months without seeing each other before reuniting in another state with new stories to share.

Most days though Lexa still very much felt like a shell of her former self.

She had hoped that when she struck out on her own several years ago, that it would lead her to a rebirth of sorts. It was supposed to be the thing to save her. She wanted to claw her way out of her shell and be someone new.

Someone that felt whole.

She wasn't whole.

Everything felt like jagged pieces that stabbed her insides. Time had not healed nor repaired the damage that had been done. She felt everything and nothing at all at once.

Her crimes became the glue to hold the pieces of herself somewhat together. It wasn't perfect. Pieces were missing and not fitting right as they should with the glue trying to hold it all together in some incomplete shape.

It may not be much but she was thankful for the little relief it offered her. She was glad for the itch, the thrill and adrenaline it gave her. It became her purpose.

Anya did quite well training her to practically become an expert thief and fighter. There had been a lot of trial and error in the first couple of years that resulted in jail time. She didn't like jail. It gave her too much time to think and made her feel trapped. Feeling trapped beneath her own skin was already claustrophobic enough for her. After her last stint two years ago, she made sure to never allow herself to get caught in the process again.

So far, so good.

However, her life began to feel too repetitive lately; too routine. She'd travel to another small town, scope out opportunities to steal more money, settle for a short time there before finding herself back on the bus to take her to a new destination to repeat the process all over again.

It suited her well the first few years and gave her a sense of freedom by getting to choose what she wanted to do next. It was also a major comfort not to stress over money-related things anymore. It had been good enough to distract her from the fact that something was still missing in her life. She hadn't quite experienced total freedom like she's been longing for since having her heart shattered twice at 16.

After all, how does one find freedom from themselves?

It was earlier in the year when the sudden realization came to her that something needed to change. After hopping from town to town for so long, her excitement faded as she began noticing how similar each town actually was. It was becoming mundane and that's not what she wanted for her wandering journey. It did slightly amuse her hearing how people truly believed that their small town was safe from bad people and crime.

How willfully ignorant.

It was all the same to her. When she had envisioned running away years ago, she always had this image in her mind of herself driving a car, windows down to let the wind blow through her hair while road tripping across the United States.

She imagined it would be memorable, serene, and exhilarating. Perhaps that was the way she could finally attempt to unburden herself. It would be hard to sort through but she knew there was still a lot of stuff inside her that she needed to unpack. Being out on the open road by herself sounded like the best way to find the missing pieces of herself and a chance to smooth out the jagged edges.

A month ago, a plan began to form when she arrived in New York for the first time. It has been a while since she felt total anticipation and awe when she took in the sights that New York City offered. Maybe she needed to start looking through a tourist lens to a better experience. She liked it so much, she stayed to explore more and decided that this was where she'll put her plan in motion.

It was time to steal a car.

It would be the first time Lexa would steal a car on her own and for herself. She had tagged along with Anya a handful of times to steal vehicles just so she could learn how or because it was a delivery job. Her favorite memories were seeing how much Anya enjoyed joyriding and doing donuts in an empty lot. It had been such a pleasant surprise to see her friend freely laughing and smiling.

It had softened her enough to join in the laughter and enjoy the pure adrenaline as Anya continued to spin them rapidly at great speed leaving skid marks on the lot.

It was a memory Lexa held on tightly.

After doing some scouting of different parking lots in the area, she eventually found an ideal spot that she could case for cars. It was a convenience store on the corner that didn't have a well-lit parking lot and only had one working camera at the entrance. She figured with the lack of lighting and a hoodie, she'll remain anonymous even if the camera's quality happened to be decent or not.

As luck would have it while waiting in the shadows nearby for a perfect opportunity, a dark-colored Jeep Wrangler parked near the back of the lot away from the entrance of the store. She slinked a little closer when two female figures exited the car. One appeared to be blonde and the other was a brunette. She watched the two young women enter the store when she suddenly realized she hadn't heard any sounds signaling that the car had been locked.

This was her chance.

Lexa double-checked that her hood was still in place before smoothly walking toward the Jeep and glancing around to see if there were any potential witnesses. There was none. She cautiously opened the car door ready to run if she had been mistaken and the alarm went off. Thankfully, she was correct that it was left unlocked during the women's rush into the store. The owner of the car would very much regret that soon enough.

All Lexa could hear was the rapid pounding of her heart while she quickly set to work to start up the car and take off.

There was no turning back now.

Feeling the steering wheel in her hands, Lexa gripped it until her knuckles turned white as her foot stayed pressed against the pedal of the stolen Jeep Wrangler. Her heart was racing as she constantly checked the mirrors and the road, almost expecting to see flashing blue and red lights of a cop car following her.

No police car in sight. No flashing lights or sirens to be heard.

She still did not loosen her tight grip on the wheel. Not yet. Not until the anxiety that filled her body, that made it tremor, and her racing heart began to lose its hold on her once she felt she was safe from being caught.

Lexa drove out of the city, passed through some more, determined to leave New York altogether. Only then, she’d imagine, it would be enough to feel like she really managed to escape. That she wasn’t going to get caught instantly and that she could actually go through with this idea of hers to travel across the country.

What she hadn't expected was nearly driving herself off the road in fright when a phone suddenly rang from the passenger seat. Cursing quietly to herself, she glanced to the seat where she had tossed her overstuffed backpack, which had apparently hidden the phone beneath it.

Biting her lip, Lexa chose to ignore it, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t try calling again. She needed to focus on the road and getting the hell out of New York. Once she did, she would have to eventually stop and get some rest, not to mention get an idea of where she was headed first.

However, before she could breathe a sigh of relief when the ringing stopped, it rang again and again and each time Lexa ignored it.

It was putting her further on edge, and after the 9th call, Lexa angrily snatched it from beneath her bag and answered it.

There was a brief moment of silence before suddenly a female voice began yelling through the phone.

"Hey, asshole! You stole my friend's car! We're gonna stick the po--” the sound of struggling and cursing suddenly interrupted before it tapered off into a moment of silence.

Then…

A new voice is heard on the other line.

“You actually answered?”

Lexa detected disbelief in the new voice before it turned angry.

“It was my car that you have stolen. Do you have any idea how long I saved up to get that Jeep? I just bought it like 4 months ago. Only for some thieving dick to come along to pretend it was theirs now.”

Lexa furrowed her brow, still watching the road as she listened to the woman whose car she had stolen. If she wasn’t inwardly berating herself for answering the phone instead of simply shutting it off, she would almost be amused at being called a thieving dick. Anya would have a laugh.

She was quite aware that she was a thieving something.

“Do you often decide to completely screw over and inconvenience citizens? Because I am definitely feeling inconvenienced right now. I'm meant to be at a friend's surprise birthday party right now and be the bringer of alcohol.”

Suddenly the first voice Lexa heard piped up in the background of the call. She overheard the name “Clarke” which must be the car owner's name.

“I want my damn car back. Are you even listening? Hello Mr. Criminal? Answer me!”

Lexa found herself gripping the cell phone tighter in her hand.

It was a little annoying to be assumed as a male. It's not the first time she's heard it.

"What do you have to say for yourself, huh? At least give me enough decency to answer me while I’m questioning you."

Lexa quietly scoffed as she debated if and how she would respond. It couldn’t hurt to momentarily speak to this person, and oddly enough it was actually a helpful distraction from how on edge she was during her escape.

Clearing her throat, she decided to humor the woman and maybe even stall her from reporting her car missing since it seems Clarke and her friend had chosen to call her stolen phone first in an attempt to guilt-trip her.

"Are you done with your failed guilt trip, Clarke?” Lexa questioned in return, purposely including Clarke's name to hopefully unnerved her. “It's simple, really. I needed a car and yours just happened to appear at the opportune time for me to steal it.”

There's a gasp, a rustle over the phone and what sounded like muffled voices until Clarke’s voice came through clear again.

Lexa smirked briefly, pleased with her success to unnerve the girl.

"What the hell for? How do you know my name? And no, I am nowhere near done with the guilt trip.”

How insistently stubborn, she thought with a sigh.

“I needed it to travel. You should tell your friend to be more careful about what she says in the background.”

There's a groan after the realization of how she learned it and then a couple muffled curses were exchanged.

"There are other means of transportation, you know? It didn't have to come to this.”

"Those other means of transportation are exactly the reason why I decided it was time to get a car."

“Who are you? Where are you going with my car?”

Lexa scoffed once again amazed that Clarke would actually think she’d reveal her name or whereabouts to her.

"I am a criminal. Telling you my name or where I am would be a mistake on my part. Wouldn’t want to increase the odds of getting caught, now would I?"

"Look, you need to turn around and return the car to me. Do that and then just maybe I won’t involve the police and we can just settle this between us."

Did she think of Lexa a gullible idiot? She was sadly mistaken.

"No. I can’t do that, and I can’t trust that you wouldn’t have the cops waiting to arrest me if I were to ever entertain the thought of doing so. It’s too risky and honestly, I don’t take too kindly to being ordered around. You’ll just have to use those other means of transportation you mentioned, Clarke."

"Ha ha. I don't know what you really plan on doing with my car. If you really are just driving around or plan to strip it for parts but it doesn't have to come to that, okay?”

Lexa’s jaw twitched when she noticed the husky voice on the other end had softened.

“How about this? You can abandon the car, tell me its location and I can retrieve it. We can dismiss this as a stupid mistake and not involve the cops. See? You can trust me. So, please return --"

"No. This is something I have to do. I've been planning this all out!” Banging her fist against the steering wheel, Lexa could feel her anxiety and tension returning. Clarke was no longer being a good little distraction.

“Then undo those stupid plans! How could you ever think to commit such a crime was a grand plan to have? Anyone else would have already reported their car stolen and I'm trying to work with you here. You can trust --”

“Shut up!” Lexa shouted as anger began to bubble up to the surface and spill into the conversation. “Don't delude yourself, Clarke. I don't know you and you don't know me. There are zero trusts here.”

Lexa tensed thinking she saw a police car down a street and eased up on the pedal. The last thing she needed was to be pulled over for speeding in this car.

“Well, I am not giving up. I'm determined now to make this happen.”

“No.”

“I won't report the car stolen. We can come to an understand--”  

“I'm done,” Lexa interrupted again. “You're not getting it back. Deal with it.” Lexa has had enough of this conversation. She needed to be hyper-aware of her surroundings and drive as far as she could before exhaustion could claim her.

As she ended the call, cutting Clarke off mid-pleads, she softly whispered before she realized what she was about to say and swallowed the rest down. “I’m...”

I'm sorry -- she was going to say.

Lexa couldn't remember the last time she apologized to anyone for something she did. This was not the time for any sort of apologizes though because she didn't regret taking the vehicle.

Powering the phone off, she chucked it back on the passenger seat and took a moment to appreciate the sudden silence and the passing city lights.

Now she was feeling a little guilty but she had meant it when she said she had to do this. She wasn’t about to turn back around and possibly get thrown in jail again when she was so close to finally reaching her original dream of being on the open road and hopefully make peace with her past.

So, she ruthlessly stumped down the guilt.

Lexa just needed to get as much distance as she could from New York.

It was going to be a long night.

[call-me-mister-midnight]

Aiden’s Highway to Hell: Watch Dogs/Hazbin Hotel Crossover

Hey everyone, I’ve started writing my first ever fanfiction and I’ve gotten great reviews over at AO3, so I figured I’d share it with all of you, as well! Not sure if I should post the whole story over time or not, but for now, I’ll leave you the first chapter and link you to the full story on AO3. Be sure to like and review! I’m also open to suggestions if you have any.

Summary: After the events of the first Watch Dogs, Aiden Pearce finds himself on the wrong end of a rescue gone wrong and ends up in Hell. His only ticket out? Through the Happy Hotel, where he must repent for his crimes and give up his vigilante ways for good. Only true remorse and a change of heart will be his saving grace. Sounds simple enough, but when he finds an old enemy and some not so friendly demons along the way, Aiden will learn that the road to redemption is long and difficult. Will Aiden be able to turn himself around and live an honest life? Will he be able to escape hell? Or will he be exterminated? What else is in store for The Fox? Tune in and find out!

Chapter 1: Hellbound

It was a cold February morning in the city of St. Louis; a perfect day to start cleaning up the streets and getting back into the swing of things. 

At least, that’s what Aiden thought as he got in his car and began to head towards Indigo Drive, where his Profiler was informing him of a crime in progress.

‘Another day, another assault…’, thought Aiden as he floored the gas, tearing down the highway. ‘I’ll get this over with and then try out that new diner. Nothing beats a good omelet.’ As he got closer and closer to his destination, a sense of uneasiness began to creep up on the battle-hardened vigilante. Why did he suddenly feel this way? He took down many an armored soldier before this with relative ease. This was going to be no different.

3 miles to the crime scene.

The unsettling feeling only grew worse. Shaking his head in disbelief, Aiden did his best to ignore the fear. Fear is what gets people killed in this line of work. Although he realized the importance of trusting his gut, Aiden knew damn well that he was merely overreacting. Perhaps he could use a vacation, he had endured quite a bit over the past few months. That’s it, the work was just getting to his head. Nothing to be worried about.

1 mile to the crime scene.

Aiden started to have second thoughts about interfering with this one. He couldn’t put a finger on it, but something felt seriously off. ‘No, I must. I can’t stop now, not after everything I’ve sacrificed’ he almost pleaded to himself. ‘I’ll do it, even if it kills me’. The anxiety was starting to peak at this moment; Aiden could swear his hands were starting to sweat. Embarrassing. How could someone who was so used to dropping the hammer on every person who came in between him and his niece’s killers suddenly be so timid? He NEVER had second thoughts before in his entire life. He couldn’t imagine what Jordi would ever say to him if he could read his mind. Thankfully, he never had to find out. All he needed to worry about was incapacitating his target and getting the hell outta Dodge.

“You have arrived.”

The robotic sound of his GPS snapped him out of his thoughts, prompting him to hit the brakes in order to study his surroundings. Under the bridge, perfect. His target wouldn’t even see him coming. As Aiden exited the car and screwed the silencer onto his pistol, he felt a cold chill blow over him. Gotta love that brisk St. Louis weather.

He powered up his Profiler and started searching the docks where the giant blue circle he had come to know and (not) love glowed back at him on the screen. After around 5 minutes of searching, he finally found his target: a tall, slender man in a black hoodie with the hood raised. It didn’t get any easier than this. Aiden hid behind a bridge support, keeping a close but safe distance between him and his potential prey. The man was clearly not in a hurry; he had no idea what was waiting for him just 10 feet away. As Aiden continued to tail the man, he saw it: a woman and child were tied up and were squirming around on the deck of a red and white boat that was sloppily docked about 25 yards away by Aiden’s prediction.

Easy pickings.

Aiden holstered his pistol and prepped his baton. He was gonna make this one hurt. He pulled his mask up and quickly approached the man. With a few well-placed swings and a liver shot for the cherry on top, the man went down onto the muddy grass with a satisfying thud.

‘See? Not even remotely a problem.’, thought Aiden as he ran over to the boat to free the hostages. He couldn’t help but feel proud of himself; not only did he get to save a couple of lives, he also didn’t have to break his back to get the few joys of being The Fox. That was all fine and dandy, up until the part where Aiden realized he made a gigantic tactical error.

“See you in HELL, scumbag!” came the sharp, high pitched voice of a second person that Aiden didn’t even account for. Before he could even turn around to confront the ambusher, it was too late. There was a bang, a flash of blinding white light, so bright that even the blind would have to shield their eyes from it. It was strangely beautiful, not even the slightest bit annoying. No pain, no blood… nothing. After what seemed like hours of this, he could hear the faint sounds of sirens and yelling, before suddenly feeling like he was falling. Not just falling, but freefalling. As in, going down a rollercoaster with nothing but your own body, hurtling towards a seemingly endless void. His speed and velocity only seemed to be increasing. Holy shit, this was REALLY fast. How was he not on fire from this much speed?

Aiden, too terrified to scream or flail, simply closed his eyes and braced himself for what was inevitably coming. This was the end, he knew it. He should’ve trusted his gut and just went to that stupid diner. For a brief moment, he regretted everything he ever did. The Fixer contracts he carried out, the convoys he destroyed, the cars he had stolen, but most of all, the people he put in danger… Nicky, Jacks… no, don’t think about her again…. dammit… even Lena. For the first time in what felt like forever, The Fox felt tears coming on. The intense speed at which he was falling didn’t even bother him anymore. The regret was heavy, burdensome. All of his past sins came to haunt him one last time before he met his fate. He supposed he deserved it. What a bitter pill regret is.

WHAM!

Aiden felt an impact so hard, he thought all of his body parts disconnected at once. All of the wind was instantly knocked out of him, the beautiful white light now gone. He was dead. But wait… he could still feel his arms and legs. He could still feel pain. So much pain…

All of the energy once within his shaken bones instantly disappeared. He felt like he could sleep forever. Isn’t that what he was doing? He honestly didn’t know anymore. All he knew was, he was splayed all across some hard surface… asphalt? It felt rocky, like asphalt. He tried moving his left arm slightly. It hurt a bit, but he managed to get the appendage out from under his body.

So far, so good.

He tried moving his right leg and was greeted by a tremendous amount of pain that rippled throughout his entire body.

Not good. Horrible idea.

Clearly, he wasn’t dead. At least, he didn’t think so. Also, what a nice warm atmosphere he was feeling. Wait… atmosphere? He was dead! He started hearing other ambiance sounds. Cars passing by, the distant chatter of human sounding voices… what the hell was going on? Only one way to find out. He tried to pick his head up to moderate success, managing to catch a glimpse of a very dark sky and what seemed like a wall of neon before letting his head smack against the pavement-like surface again.

‘Ow.’

It was bad enough he got shot in the damn head, now he had to be reckless and let his skull drop like that. He lifted his head again, this time getting a clear view of what was right in front of him. Aiden couldn’t believe it: he somehow ended up in a city! But not just any city; it was a city bathed in an eerie red fog, with a brightly lit sign around every corner. The buildings were tall and strangely shaped, some tipping to the side, others having jagged edges that jutted out at very peculiar angles.

‘Where the fuck am I?’, thought Aiden as he very slowly managed to get to a sitting up position, every muscle he moved screaming out in pain. After a couple minutes of scanning his surroundings in more detail, Aiden noticed something else: nobody else looked human. Well, they did, but they somewhat resembled some kind of animal or something. He quickly looked at his own hands, his eyes trailing down his chest and eventually stopping at his legs and feet. Somehow, Aiden looked completely unchanged. Everything about him was completely normal from before.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he started to try and get to a standing position. This time around, he managed to get it right the first time. He felt some cracking here and there, which, compared to the previous attempt at moving, was a welcome sensation. Anything was better than pain at this point. Spotting a vending machine nearby, Aiden decided, against his better judgment, to throw himself towards it to at least have something to hold on to.

That didn’t happen at all.

Aiden ended up almost rag dolling right past the machine as he awkwardly plummeted to another painful and embarrassing defeat.

“Well… that went well”, scoffed the vigilante bitterly. After spending another seemingly long time to get back on his feet, it finally hit him: this was no ordinary vending machine. “Heroin… acid… cocaine… molly… what the hell?”

He was beyond confused at this point. A vending machine that dispensed drugs?

Before he could ponder the situation any further, Aiden’s thought process was interrupted by a long scream followed by a what sounded like a laser blast. Adrenaline now kicking in, Aiden headed towards the general direction of the noise. It didn’t take him very long to pinpoint the source: a pair of creatures, jet black in color with icy halos over their head, open firing on some person vaguely resembling a frog. Their laughter was very chilling, half robotic and half distorted with a moderate amount of static. The sound cut through the air like a hot knife through butter.

Suddenly feeling mortal again and terrified beyond rational thought for the first time in his life, Aiden bolted for the closest street as one of the creatures turned to face him with a menacing smile. Heart pounding, Aiden managed to quickly limp a couple blocks before the adrenaline left his body, forcing him to come to a screeching halt under a small overhanging roof, slumping against the wall to catch his breath.

Aiden quickly scanned the building. “Looks like a hotel. Perfect.”

Without further delay, he opened the door, which was strangely unlocked, and quickly hid inside and slammed the door shut. Finally feeling safe, he let all of his weight rest against the hefty metal frame. The air was very still. The seconds seemed like hours as Aiden tried his best to keep his breath under control. He thanked his lucky stars that the place was abandoned. At least, until he suddenly felt something extremely sharp and extremely metal stick him right above his spine, followed by an intense and hostile female voice coming from behind him.

“Don’t move a muscle, asshole, or I’ll end you.”  

Like this story? Get up to date with the full story at:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18106346

[glitterandrocketfuel]

YBC Hot Takes: Death Valley

This one took me a while! As the story comes closer to the final confrontations, the plots are getting more complex, and more characters make their appearance as Patrick works through the understanding that "solo career" doesn't mean you're only answerable to or influenced by yourself.

Sacrificed in a crime of passion and despair by a demonic Patrick caught in brainwashed hallucinations, Joe takes a journey to the underworld, while Pete and Andy are stymied by the authorities and rescued by a mysterious double-agent. 

Death Valley - When you Walk Through Hell, You Come Out On Fire

Cutting off your creative instincts isn't as easy as depriving it of oxygen. Creativity is an extremophile, and it can survive in adverse conditions because humans are stubborn that way, and creative humans, even moreso. Let's go down into the Underworld below the cut to learn what happens when the Devil meets Joesus...

Patrick's Creative Spark is set free to ascend to the Good Place. But wait--not quite--because while Patrick thought he'd severed that part of him, these ties run deep, and they constantly renew themselves. The kid-herald (fan) hijacks his elevator to heaven and the room is filled with ruddy, infernal light as Joe is pulled down and away from the light.

Cut back to the real world. The first symbol we see is the heavy-looking, official-looking ring of (jailer's) keys on the hip of a (gatekeeper) cop. All the tools of an arrest--the fingerprinting, the mugshot. Yes, we can giggle at the sloppy way they hung the height chart because we all know Patrick is not that tall, but then again, this is a distorted point of view where all your vital statistics are scrutinized and over-analyzed and under the microscope and let's not forget how Celebrity makes those in its spotlight Larger Than Life (including their shortcomings and weaknesses).

The clumsy hook that his Confidence (Pete) jury-rigged onto the stump of his hand is forcibly removed (his tool is taken away, as incomplete a substitute as it was) and his still-wounded stump is fingerprinted. Ridiculous on the surface, but underneath, this is a sort of bastardized stigmata exposed to be poked and prodded and manhandled by the gatekeepers as he is incarcerated and categorized and chained.

In the dark and shadowy interrogation room, his Integrity and Confidence await cross-examination from the gatekeepers. Locked away from the outside world, where their freedom is curtailed by the gatekeepers and dependent on how they interact with those gatekeepers. As they're trying to make a case to the skeptical inquisitors, the zombie-like, broken Patrick (devoid of his Creativity and cut off from his Integrity and his Confidence) shuffles in chains towards the holding cell where the gatekeepers lock him up into a little, pre-defined prison box and leave him there.

Meanwhile, Joe has descended into a hellishly-lit room filled with all sorts of distracting temptations of the senses--scantily-clad dancing girls in high heels, ostentatiously-decorated walls and luxurious furnishings, and refreshments served with cleavage and a smile.

I feel like it's important to note here that Joe is extremely happy having a frosted donut and more interested in a swig and a smoke than, say, motorboating the generous and available cleavages here.

It's one of the consistent trademarks of the Fall Out Boy video aesthetic that these guys are Awkward Around Girls and in point of fact, the women in their videos, even when they're cast in objectified roles, are never themselves objectified, and almost always, the hallmarks of objectification are trope-subverted and played for laughs, gender-flipped, or lampooned outright.

Just as he's partaken, Joe looks up to see the rock god of sinners himself, Tommy Lee, descending the stairs.

Here we can say that Joe turned his focus to his metal band during the hiatus and all the trappings of Hell resemble the 80's metal aesthetic (right down to the donuts as an obscure Van Halen/David Lee Roth reference), but since this is about Patrick and his walk through the Valley of the Shadow of I Miss My Band, Joe as Patrick's Creative Spark, cut off from Patrick himself, wounded by rejection and criticism and failure, has gone to ground in the underworld.

It's important to note here that in most mythologies, the Walk Through the Underworld is not, in fact, a final destination, but rather the journey that must be taken by a god or hero in order to unlock their greatest powers to their full potential. And indeed, it's a walk down a dark tunnel to meet the scariest devil in the underworld--your own bad self.

Tommy Lee, rock legend and fallen god is Joe's future metal self, distilled into the base elements of rock and roll, recursively defined in human shape. Tommy Lee is what happens when there's no direction, no boundary, no guidance placed on that creative urge, where it follows its distractions, sometimes to dizzying heights, but sometimes getting lost in itself until it becomes self-indulgent and inwardly directed and exists only to serve its own ego (kiss the ring, Joe. Get the tattoo that shows the blind/dead smiley with the horns instead of the crown and pyramid).

Back in the jail cell, boxed in by the industry gatekeepers who penalize you when you don't fit into the neat little boxes, Patrick's a caged animal, observed through a small mirror (reflection) by another, unseen inmate for the briefest of moments.

His Integrity and Confidence are not giving the answers the gatekeepers want, and they're getting angry. But a small ray of hope comes in the form of a cryptic note slid under the door, referencing she who wears the crown but is no princess.

In terms of the Parts of Patrick, Patrick is hemmed in by the expectations of the industry, the pressures bearing down on him over performance expectations, and a dwindling financial investment (he said he was never in danger of going broke, but we all know that if you've ever been poor in America, you never really shake the feeling that you're always one disaster away from going right back there).

He's stifled (choked) his Creativity and it's gone to ground in a self-indulgent downward spiral.

His Confidence and Integrity aren't enough to impress the Gatekeepers, but they aren't out of the game entirely. It turns out that the industry has chewed up and spit out others.

Patrick's core selves can learn from their forebears by listening to a woman who wore a crown, but was never a princess. Ladies and gentlefans, I'd like to introduce you to Queen Courtney Love. If anyone had reason to want to torch the music industry and fans, it's the Widow Cobain, the Scarlet Woman, the Trash Queen who took the haterade spewed at her by an industry and a public that blamed her for a tragedy that wasn't her fault, and not only did she accept it, she wore it like a crown. Through it all, she made music of it, mocking the celebrity culture, mocking their caricatures of her and playing so far into the trope that she came out the other side.

Seriously, Hole put out amazing girlpunk and made such great videos and so much of it was underrated and overshadowed by Courtney Love's tabloid drama (echoing the situation of someone else we know, hmmm?).

In this interpretation, though, Courtney severed from her other Selves and failed to reunite. Much like Patrick, she became a slave to the Cult and eventually, its leader. Her Spark, the part of her that was never spoiled from the outside, is instead working to sabotage the cult from within and reaching out to other sparks like Confidence, but she really connects with Integrity--of keeping yourself in the face of the caricature everyone else throws back at you (this is an important internal step for Patrick as he leaves behind the particular malleability of youth in an industry that has no use for malleable grown-ups).

Pete and Andy arrive at the mystery woman's garage (band) hideout. She reveals the extent of the conspiracy that took hold of Patrick and her status as a double-agent in the anti-music cult. She instructs Pete and Andy in the cult's inner workings, gives them targets, then arms them (with really crazy-cool instrument-weapons). As she's pondering the reach of the cult, Andy returns for a stolen moment of affection before departing once more.

Back in the Underworld, Patrick's Creativity is indulging in all the vices including the perception-altering (and let us all just love these little muffins because in the middle of all the gyratin' wimmin, Joe exchanges his best smoochies with his French bulldog).

He's jamming with the Prince of Darkness and shredding with the rock god and plumbing the intricacies of an unbridled, unbound state of existence. Two charming ladies are particularly attentive when Joe takes his unholy communion and descends further into distorted perception. In this tableau thus far, the party has been Joe, Tommy Lee, and a lot of ladies, with a few Men In Suits looking on from the balconies. But one of Joe's ladies gives a Look that can't be accidental and the situation changes.

Into this altered-state of decadence come the sobering (literally, maybe?) Men In Suits. One of whom trades a girl a hot dog (What kind of Hot Dog Hell is this? Nevermind, we're just going with "it's Fall Out Boy"). The change in atmosphere reveals the ladies to be heralds hovering protectively around Joe as he begins to sober up while the party takes a subtle turn.

Meanwhile, Patrick's cell is approached by the gatekeeper again, only this time flanked by two familiar Vixens, one bearing Patrick's hook. As his cell is opened, his Creativity is dragged back out of the Underworld by the heralds.

Patrick is terrified of the Vixens, but the gatekeepers and Vixens are working together--both seek to turn Patrick into a tool for their own ends, and as long as he's separated from his soul-parts, he's powerless to do anything to stop them.

Patrick's Confidence has been armed with knowledge of the moving parts (and let's be honest--Pete has always been very cognizant of the moving parts of fame, celebrity, attention, and buzz, and how they affect your reception and others' perceptions) and the weapon to cut through the bullshit.

His Integrity has Connected with a kindred spirit that provides him with a roadmap that just might lead him out of the darkness.

Finally, having spent enough time down there licking its wounds and dulling its pain, Patrick's Creative Spark is called out of the Underworld. He has seen his own indulgences taken to the extreme--he's been warned--but by the same token, that time spent away from the slings and arrows of the world has allowed his Creative Spark to emerge with new perspective and even greater power for having walked through Hell and come out on fire.

[bunysliper]

Riddle: they left at night and arrived at the gas station at dawn. Where did they spend the night?

Sooo, it’s basically been forever since you prompted this, but I hope you like it!

Tellurian

An early season 5 ficlet

“Got everything?”

Broad palms patted at his chest, then his hips, moving ontohis back pockets in their survey for the essentials. “Phone, car keys,snacks. Yeah, I’m set. You?”

His companion smirked, lifting her arm to show him the throwblankets she’d stolen from the back of his couch. “Everything else is inthe car, right?”

“Right.”

She exhaled. “Then I’m ready. Let’s go.”

He made sure to leave the light on behind them, bathing theliving room in a welcoming glow.

She did another inspection of their things as they loadedthe rest into the trunk, lifting the bag of snacks and cocking an eyebrow inamusement.

“Funyuns, Castle?”

He shrugged. “They’re good. I bought the chips youlike, too. The garlic, basil, and olive oil ones.”

Beckett grinned. “Really not worrying about bad breathtonight, huh? I’m surprised.”

The keys slipped out of his hand, landing on the concretewith a clatter. “I – well – if we both have bad breath, it cancels out.You know this, Beckett.”

His partner snickered, returning the snacks to the car.“Whatever you say. Just tell me you at least packed water.”

Scooping the keychain off the ground, he nodded. “Ofcourse. I made some coffee, too. It’s in the thermos behind my seat.” Hemoved to the driver’s side, opening the door and lifting that bag to prove itto her.

Kate hummed, casting an appreciative glance his way. “Thinkingof everything, aren’t you?”

“Regular boy scout,” he quipped, waiting until sheclosed the trunk and moved to the passenger side to slide behind the wheel.

Beckett rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched upwardsanyway. “You were never a scout, remember?”

Delight rippled across his shoulders at her memory, therecollection of something he’d said to her on their first case together.“Honorary then,” he said. “I think I probably qualify for thatby now.”

She snorted, clicking her seat belt into place.“Whatever you say, buddy. I’ve admitted it was good thinking; no need toget cocky.”

“But I thought you liked it when I got co-”

“Castle,” she interrupted, barely sparing him aglance as she programmed their destination into the GPS on his dash.

“Right,” he said, glancing in his mirrors, waitinguntil she finished to back out of his parking space. “Getting on the road.Looks like we should make good time.”

Kate hummed an agreement, kicking off her shoes andsquirming to make herself comfortable as her hand fell to rest in the center ofthe console.

“Don’t jinx us,” she warned after the fact.

Thankfully, it seemed that he hadn’t spoken too soon, as thecity that never slept granted them a brief window where the traffic wasn’tmiserable. Still, he waited until they’d made it to the highway and pointed thecar upstate to take his partner’s hand and give it a gentle squeeze. They bothseemed to breathe a sigh of relief, of gratitude that everything seemed like itwas going to work out and the night would happen as they’d planned.

“You okay?” Kate asked a little while later,turning in the bucket seat to face him. “I can drive if you want.”

Castle shook his head, brushing his thumb over her knuckles.“I’m good to drive. Just glad the killers of New York made their dirtydeeds someone else’s problem tonight.”

“Me too,” she admitted, leaning across the consoleto brush her lips over his cheek. “But really? Dirty deeds? That’s onestep away from ‘dastardly,’ Castle.”

“Which is also a great word.”

“If this were Dudley Do-Right, maybe,” sheretorted, grinning against his chin.

Rick laughed, jostling her hand when she retreated to herseat. This was one of his favorite things about being with her, the fact thatthey could go back and forth like this without missing a beat.

“You mock the world’s most well-meaning Mountie,Beckett?”

“Oh, hush.”

She was still smiling, though. He could hear it in hervoice. And for that, he would suffer whatever teasing she wanted to dish outover his vocabulary.

“Anyway, I was merely expressing my appreciation forthe fact that we didn’t get called to a crime scene five minutes before youclocked out.”

His girlfriend gave his hand a patronizing little pat.“Yes, yes you were. By quoting a 1960s cartoon.”

Turning his head just a tad, he stuck his tongue out at her.

“There are better uses for that tongue of yours,Castle,” she drawled, slipping her fingers up his arm. The touch sent ashiver through his limbs, and his blood warmed in anticipation.

“No fair, doing that while I’m driving,” heargued, easing off the gas as the slowpoke ahead of them decelerated even more.

Kate hummed, swiping her thumb along the inside of hiswrist. This time, though, it was hypnotic and soothing instead of arousing.Okay, a little arousing, too, but that was true for most of the things Kate Beckettdid.

“GPS says we should be there in a couple of hours,”Beckett started once he’d passed the slow driver, glancing behind them to checkout the vehicle. “Plenty of time to do it when we arrive.”

The transition from paved road to not-quite-gravel startledher out of her light doze, forcing her up in her seat.

“Sorry,” Kate croaked, swiping a hand over herface, hoping she wasn’t smearing what remained of her makeup too badly.“Didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”

She really hadn’t intended to conk out on him, but the hum ofthe engine and the warmth of both the car and her contentment had managed tolull her into a gentle sleep.

From the driver’s side, her partner smiled. “Don’t worryabout it. You missed my epic drum solo during Tom Sawyer and a few people beingidiots in the left lane, but not much else.

Her lips twitched. She’d seen said drum solo more than onceduring their partnership, a few of his guitar solos, too. But she kind of lovedthat he let himself be a dork with her.

"Kay.” She twisted in the passenger seat, studyingtheir surroundings with soft eyes. She could see that trees lined the drive,but nothing distinct beyond that.

“Almost there,” Castle murmured, glancing in herdirection. “The site said we’ll pass an aid station and the clearing willbe about a mile past that.”

Beckett nodded, eyes still fixed on the landscape beyond hisshoulder. Even though they were moving, everything around them seemed so still.

“Do you think we’ll be warm enough?” she askedafter a moment.

Castle glanced at the dash, as if noting for the first timethat the temperature had dropped.

“We should be. You grabbed the blankets, we havecoffee, and if nothing else we can always sit in the car to warm up.”

She nodded in satisfaction, feeling her lips lift.“What? No promise that you’ll find a delightfully devilish way to keep mewarm? Are you feeling okay?”

He chuckled, offering his hand again. He must have taken itback after she’d fallen asleep. “That was a given, Beckett. That was agiven.”

She took his hand, slotting her fingers through his. Yes,she supposed it was with Rick.

“By the way, good call on doing this on a weeknight,” she murmured once the car rolled to a stop. They were alone in theclearing, not another soul for miles. It was breathtaking.

Her partner nodded, looking around with the same curiosityand awe she had. “I figured most people would not want to venture out on aWednesday in the middle of November. Looks like it paid off.”

Kate agreed quietly, unbuckling her seatbelt and movingacross the car to touch his face. Her lips brushed his, quick but gentle.

“It’s beautiful,” she said. Castle’s cheeks liftedunder her hand, but there was no trace of cockiness in his smile, just genuinejoy.

“Good,” he rumbled, cupping the back of her neckand drawing her closer for another kiss, biting and quick this time, leavingher sucking in a breath once he released her. “Let’s get set up.”

They worked together in silence, using one of the lanternshe’d fished out of storage for light. She watched him drape a sleeping bag and theblankets over the foam camping mattress, covering her mouth to hide her smirkwhen he flopped face down to test the set up.

“Yeah, that’ll be good,” he murmured into theplush fleece.

“You comfy, Castle?” she teased after a minute.

He mumbled a response that sounded vaguely like“very,” but otherwise didn’t move. Kate snickered, consideringnudging him to make space for her, but decided to let him be instead, moving tothe trunk of the car to grab the telescope and the tripod. She set it up just afew feet from their little camp, busying herself with perusing the sky to findwhat they were out there to see.

“There,” she said, almost to herself, “readyto go.”

“Not quite.”

She turned to find her boyfriend holing out a cup of coffee,his smile soft in the moonlight. She took the mug with grateful fingers,stepping into the warmth of his chest. Rick’s arm wound around her waist,keeping her close.

“Now we’re ready to go,” he added, resting hischeek against her temple.

“Let the Pleiades watching begin,” she hummed,lifting her chin to the sky, brushing her lips across his jaw in the process.

They stumbled into the gas station convenience store as thefirst rays of light streaked across the sky, sharing tired grins and a fewplayful kisses before parting to slip into the restrooms.

What an amazing night. Unlike anything he’d seen in hislife, including his daughter’s birth, his first paycheck from Black Pawn, andKate Beckett coming apart in his arms for the first time. There was somethinghumbling about observing the sky, about contemplating how endless and ancientit all was, and how small they were in comparison. It had left his skinhumming, and when Kate had turned to him on their camp mat and drew him overher, he’d seen that she felt it, too.

“Rick?” Kate touched his back, drawing closer whenhe turned to face her. “You can’t possibly need more snack food,” shechided, making him realize which display he’d been staring at while he waitedfor her to emerge from the bathroom.

Chuckling, he shook his head. “No, just… looking butnot looking. Thinking about tonight, mostly.”

She grinned. “Me too. I zoned out a little bit while Iwas in there.”

His hand slipped around her waist, brushing her back throughher thick sweater. She’d stolen his jacket when they were out there, but hadleft it in the car to run inside with him. “Coffee?”

Kate nodded, pressing her smile into his cheek. “Please.I could use the caffeine.”

“I’ll drive if you want,” he offered, but sheshook her head.

“You drove up, I’ll drive back.” Her lips brushedhis. “Just try to stay awake with me.”

“Of course,” he promised, pecking her lips again.

Her smile carried him to the coffee machines and then to thecounter to pay.

“Got everything?” Rick asked, watching inamusement as his partner reached over and placed a double pack of CosmicBrownies beside their coffees.

“I’m set. You?” she asked, pulling her lip betweenher teeth.

Grinning, he nodded. “I’m good.”

“Okay,” she exhaled, leaning her cheek on his armwhile the cashier rang everything up. “Let’s go home.”

[gone-to-fight-the-fairies]

Just a Bridget Jones Moment

Challenge: This is for @jalove-wecallhimdean's Superbusters Challenge. My prompt was #16: "Does this pole still work?" Thank you for being the creator and orchestrator for this super fun challenge. It got me back to my Castiel roots.

Summary: While working on a case, the reader shares an embarrassing moment with Castiel, involving a pole. Can either of them move past it?

Pairing: Castiel x Reader

Warnings: Some sexual tension, a hard-on, and jokes referring to Dean in bed.

Word Count: 1621

Tagging: @blasted-with-salt @deaths-maiden (If anyone else wants to add to my taglist, let me know)

Ghosts weren't your forte. Even though they're a typical hunt, something about their ability to be completely invisible creeped you out. The uncertainty of their actions and unpredictability always kept you guessing. Other monsters had similar motives, and weaknesses; whereas ghosts varied too much for your taste. And there was an endless abundance, people died every day, and there were always new ghosts you would later have to deal with. They were uncontainable. They typically got the jump on you more times than you could count.

That's why you groaned when Sam found a case involving the funky deaths of two firefighters in the same unit within a week. All of Team Free Will agreed on the likeliness of a ghost. As a hunter, you couldn't protest the idea of saving potential victims. It wasn't in your nature.

Quickly, you, Dean, Sam, and Castiel drove eight hours out in hopes of preventing a third causality. The Winchesters in the Impala, and you and Castiel in his freshly stolen truck. The group decided to split up once you rolled into town. Sam and Dean drove towards the morgue to see the bodies while you and Castiel went to the local fire station to investigate the scene where the firefighters died.

Even though fire departments worked closely with law enforcement, they couldn't see the falsehood in you FBI stories when you and Castiel arrived. You were allowed to investigate their fire station with no questions asked.

"Where were the bodies found?" You'd asked the sole firefighter, at the station, seeing as every other was working on a small, local house fire.

"They were both at the bottom of the pole." The firefighter led you and Castiel to the red pole that impaled through the ceiling. "It was as though the pole hadn't been there and they'd fallen through."

"Would a one story drop kill them both?"

"Head trauma sure did," he said, staring solemnly at the crime scene. "You think someone would've pushed them?"

Castiel remained silent beside you, allowing you kept the truth at bay. "We're here to that find out. Would anyone want to hurt either of them? Maybe someone in the department?"

"No, everyone one loved Mike and Harriet. There hadn't been any quarrels, even with the stress of the move-"

"Move?" Castiel asked, raising a quizzical brow at the man.

The firefighter explained that the department was scheduled to move to a larger facility across town in a weeks time, also that they'd begun pulling out the guts of the building in preparation. The current building had been scheduled for condoning sometime in the next month. The first victim died the day after the decision.

You dismissed the firefighter, waiting for him to leave the building before whipping out your EMF detector hidden in your blazer pocket. The contents of your stomach slushed around as the device instantly lite up. Castiel dialed the Winchesters, informing them of your findings. Castiel listened a few moments more before hanging up the phone.

"They're going to check with old records at the local library to see if anyone died at this location then meet us over here. Dean wants us to continue investigating."

"Great," sarcasm was already building in your tone. "we're the honorary Shaggy and Scooby."

Castiel's stare caused you to look up from the device. The head tilt demonstrated the lack of childhood the angel had. "I just mean that we could be helping Sam and Dean out more if we weren't here. We already know there's a ghost present." You sighed, shaking your head slightly. "Okay, chase down that firefighter and ask around about any strange deaths. I'll look around upstairs."

With a nod, Castiel went outside, while you walked up to the second floor, trying to find the strongest point with the EMF detector. You search came out clean, no ectoplasm or smell of sulfur. Your search was dull until you wandered past the pole when the began to sing. You looked down the hole, wondering how the pole had something to do with the spirit's death.

"Does this pole still work?" You muttered to yourself, glancing down curiously, shaking it for good measure. You gripped it with one hand, seeing that it looked stable enough. "Hey, spirit! Mind if I slide down?" It had been an ironic question, partially experimental to see if you could taunt the ghost out of hiding. But nothing transpired.

With a shrug, you gripped the pole with both hands, wrapping your legs around, allowing gravity to do the rest.

There was a flash of the familiar tan trenchcoat before you crashed into the angel. Releasing your grasp in time to sequentially land onto him.

Incidentally finding yourself in a straddling position,  your face hovered over Castiel's for longer than you should've allowed, but found yourself frozen in place when his blue orbs collided with yours. A deep, soul-searching gaze you shared. You watched Castiel's eyes transform from alarm to a darkened wonderment. Abruptly, you saw them widen in fear.

Feeling a rising bulge below Castiel's waist, your frozen state thawed and reality set into place. You rolled off of his body, careful not to accidentally catch a glance at his tent. "I am so sorry," you began, standing up to awkwardly offer a hand; forgetting for a moment that he wasn't human. "I didn't mean for a Bridget Jones moment. I just didn't know you came back inside."

"I heard you yell before." Castiel suppressed the biological embarrassment that'd happened a moment ago. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I, uh," you began to explain awkwardly. "I was just trying to get the spirit out of hiding. Thought it'd get pissed if I came down using the pole."

"Good." Castiel coughed, buying time to think of something else to say. "Oh, the man had already been dispatched elsewhere by the time I went out to locate him."

"Better text the guys." You said, whipping out your phone.

You felt Castiel's stare as you typed. When you stared back, his eyes were already gazing up at the pole.

"I hadn't expected you to come down..." Castiel trailed off, looking up at the hole in the ceiling. "What is its purpose?"

"Exactly for what I just did."

Castiel stared at you quizzically. "For landing on angels?"

"No, in case there's a fire somewhere, firefighters have to get down to the trucks quickly. It's actually a lot of fun; you should try it."

"We're working a case. I don't think we have time-"

"Just think of all the times Dean's slept with women on cases. This will definitely be quicker than that. I hope; for the womens' sakes."

"Well, if you insist." Castiel walked up the staircase, leaving you to wait below. "How do I... slide down?" He seemed embarrassed to have to ask.

"Just grip the pole with both of your hands and when you're ready, wrap your legs."

You didn't hear anything for a moment. "Don't worry. If you screw up, I'll break your fall."

Castiel slid down, landing gracefully on his feet and a triumphed smile on his lips. "I can see the pleasure in this." He spoke.

"Cas!" Dean's voice boomed from behind you. Turning, you saw Dean with his younger brother following behind. "What the hell are you doing? Time for a burn, let's go!"

Castiel dropped his hand from the pole and kept his eyes on Dean. "Would you say the time it takes to slide down a pole is longer or shorter than your ejaculation takes during sex?"

Dean's face froze and was completely priceless.

The next day, after the completely the successful hunt, you and Castiel were packing up your belongings. Mostly your belongings and the unpacked weapons Castiel stored in his truck.

"I'm sorry I landed on you again," you told him and you secured a bag down in the bed of his truck, unable to forget the way you turned him on. Although it pleased you to know he found you sexually attractive, you assumed after that episode, he'd be too intimidated to ever make a move.

"It's alright." Castiel kept his mouth open to say more but closed it accordingly. But only for a couple of seconds. "I feel as though I should be apologizing instead."

You knew the reason why. "There's no need, Cas. It happens. And," You breathed out, mentally preparing yourself for what you were about to admit. "to be honest, it wasn't unwelcome."

Castiel's eyes darkened with realization. The ghost of a grin on his lips as he began to stalk you, forcing you against his truck. His lips hovered over yours for a moment, as though savoring the moment before lowering them down to their final destination.

The hunting equipment long forgotten on the parking lot floor, as Castiel's lips hungrily moved with yours, kissing you as though he wouldn't have another chance to do so. His hand landed on your hips, raising your shirt enough to grip at the skin. Your hand landed in his hair, tugging lightly on the locks, the ends toying between your fingers.

You dreaded the moment he would pull away, that he'd leave you thirsting for more. But that didn't happen. He kept his grip on you, lips beginning to naturally trail down the corner of your lips to your jaw.

And you felt a familiar friend saluting you.

[idreamofasriel-blog]

Metal Slug Past Life Ch 11

Marco told his friends the whole story of his current dream down to the last detail. The animals, the desert he was in, the menacing dust storm in a form of a beastly Drake shooting lightning at him. He even told them about the previous dream about the desolated forest and the goats and injured dog he encountered. The room was quiet after he finished his story. At least he doesn't have to worry about feeling like a maniac anymore. “Did you look up to see what does it all mean to see these animals in your dreams, Marco?” Fio asked him and he replied with a simple shrug. “I looked them up and the only answer I got for the goats is that it means that I have a lack of judgment or that I'm gullible. The injured dog is my dream telling me that I need to pay better attention to myself and my health or get out of situations that I can get hurt in” Tarma laughed, “You? Gullible or have a lack of judgment? Oh, please Major. You're the fastest thinker that I ever met. You solve problems without breaking a sweat and put people on edge after you outsmart them.” Marco crossed his arms and nodded, “Thanks, Tarma. I looked into The Rooster, Horse, and Raven to see what else I might be missing. The Rooster wasn't much to look into or to look at twice. All they said about that animal is that it symbolizes virility, vigilance, a warning about being cocky, and representing people who are outspoken in their belief.” Eri smirked, “Half of it sounds like Tarma. Well, mostly with the cocky part.” “Ha. Ha. Very funny,” Tarma replied sarcastically. “But continue on with the last two animals. The Horse and Raven.” Marco closes his eyes and thinks, “The horse, according to my research said the obvious that I heard over the years when I was growing up. Energy, freedom, and power. But in some countries, it symbolizes death. But, it can tell the dreamer that they are bogged don and they should act to speed things up. Like finding Morden's new partner in crime before he strikes again.” “And the raven? No doubt it'll be a bad omen with death, fear, and dark unknown,” said Eri “But I also heard about Ravens being a positive symbol on confronting your fear and seeking the truth, being strong, and the inner powers of healing. I know this cause I dreamt about a raven once in the past.” After putting the gathering information together and everyone carefully thinking it over to help Marco decode these odd animal dreams. It was Fio that spoke up. “You said you dreamed about an injured dog, right?” Marco said yes to Fio's question. “Well, if you think about it. We found Kartu badly hurt in the woods. Like how you found that dog being badly hurt in your dream. We didn't find any goats, though. We found Kartu. What if, the injured dog was Kartu in your dream?” Marco was surprised about Fio's trails of thought right and she was first to put these puzzles together. “Fio, you're amazing!” Marco cried out with excitement. “Why didn't I think of it sooner. It's making more sense now. Now we can officially say that these dreams are being manipulated by someone. Now we need to know who and why.” “Good question but we can ask Kartu if we can sit down and read the pages he translated so far,” said Tarma, “Maybe they'll give us answers on who's doing this and why.” Fio slid herself off the table she was sitting on, “I would love to join you boys, but I have to help Eri and Nadia out on some spying missions. They found some critical information that can help us uncover who's really helping Morden out.” Eri opened the door and let Fio through it first. “Good luck you three. Make it back to the base safe and sound.” said Marco. The information leads them to a Rebel base camp and according to Eri and Nadia's sources, General Morden and Allen O'Neil will be there to hold a secret meeting with their new partner and it'll lead them to the stolen mechanical Drake. Fio packed her bag and checked her weapons over and the small digital camera she would use to take pictures when it becomes necessary. Eri, meanwhile did the same and packed a lot of explosives she's going to rig up to help them escape in case the mission becomes a bust or if they get caught by the Rebels. “Ready, Staff Sergeant, Kasamoto?” Fio smiled to her. Eri smiled a bit back, “Ready, Sergeant Major Germi.” Nadia saluted to them and they aboard the Carrier Copter to their destination. It was a tranquil night in the outskirt of a small town. Some of the homes were abandoned by their family after they moved out before Morden's army moved in to capture their hometown. Others went into hiding or trying to carrying on their lives and praying for the Regular Military or the PF Squad to slaughter them all. Fio landed softly in a grassy field with Eri and Nadia and put away their parachutes. She signals the other two girls to move on ahead and they moved silently toward the old farmhouse that has now been converted into a Rebel Basecamp. The old farm house has seen better days before the war. The barn was turned into a war room for General Morden and  Allen O'Neil to discuss their next sinister move and to store supplies in while the house was turned into a communication base to contact all their other bases around the world. Eri, quietly passed some guards and planted bombs into their Jeeps, supply trucks, and some in their motorcycles. Fio and Nadia went around the house to evade the patrolling guards and crept their way to the barn. They pried a loose board open and quietly stepped in. The barn was lit up with dangling lamps and a generator running in the corner. Nadia kept look out and Fio approached the table and looked at some reports and maps all sprawled out for Morden and Allen O'Neil to look over with this unknown guest coming to see them. Fio took her camera and switched it on and activated the Wi-Fi to send all the pictures back to Head Quarters and Nadia walked around the place to find perfect spots to bug the whole barn. “It's all the plans to take over a city with the stolen Drake.” Fio whispered to Nadia and snapped pictures of the reports and maps. She even saw a sculpted figure of the Mechanical Drake with words “The Twilight Seeker” carved under its foot and she snapped pictures of it too. While Fio was busy taking pictures of the plans, Nadia heard a car approaching and voices of General Morden and Allen O'Neil talking and car doors slamming. “We need to get out of here, Fio.” Nadia whispered urgently and headed for the loose board. But as luck would of have it, some Rebel Solider blocked the exit with a heavy crate and Fio looked around out of panic and then elbowed Nadia to scale up the ladder to the hay loft of the barn. Eri hid up an apple tree the minute she saw General Morden's car drove in. She kept looking at the car and then at the barn she saw Fio and Nadia disappeared into and back at the car again. Her first thought was to contact Fio and Nadia by radio but before her finger even got the chance to press the intercom button in, she had second thoughts about giving away their positions and withdrew her radio back into her bag. “Dammit, Morden got them cornered without knowing it. I need to get Fio and Nadia out of there safely. But how?” Eri thought about it for a good while. She did booby-trapped their vehicles with bombs but yet she doesn't know how much pictures they got. She looked down and saw a Rebel Solider standing underneath her and now she's trapped just like them. Unlike their predicament, Eri got a simple soldier she can take down, Fio and Nadia got General Morden and Allen O'Neil and their guest to deal with and she has to think fast. Eri places a hand on a branch and discovered that it's loose and ready to break off and this gave her an idea. The Rebel Soldier below was minding his own business till he heard a snap and quick to aim his gun to the tree and the last thing he saw was a darken object falling down and knocking him out. Eri climbed down and moved the knocked soldier out of sight and made her way to the barn. “This is wonderful!” General Morden's voice boomed out with delight and greedily snatched the sculpture of The Twilight Seeker and kept looking it over like a kid with a shiny new toy. The young man in the goat mask smirked. “My grandfather said that you'll be pleased to hear the news of the successful train robbery. Right now as we speak, it's in repairs after all those years of being buried in the sand. It'll be up and ready by tomorrow morning. They laughed and Allen O'Neil turned his attention toward the young man. “Why hide your face, boy? You got no enemies here among us. Relax and take that silly mask off.” Jonas has zero tolerance for Allen O'Neil's stupidity but he's forced to since they're working with The Rebel Soldiers. “All right, fine,” Jonas said in a harsh voice and he undid the belt strap of the Goat Mask and set it on the table. “I did it on my own term, not yours.” and Allen O’Neil laughed. Fio and Nadia peaked over the ledge of the Hayloft to get a good look at the meeting below. Nimble as she could, Fio would take pictures between noises going on from the outside and she got pictures of Jonas' face and mask. Nadia, after bugging the place, took out her radio recorder and tune it in just right to listen to the conversation, even though they can hear Allen O'Neil's loud obnoxious voice right where they stand. “Now, which one should we conquer first? A village? A town? A City? An entire state in the US? Oh, so many places to choose, so little time to plan it all out.” General Morden said with glee. Jonas grinned and traced his fingers across the map, “I say we should take over Ireland and see how that would work with The Dusk Eater and The Twilight Seeker.” He said, eyeing the country on the map.  “Great! We'll rid of those pesky Hawk Unit who hold their Head Quarters there. They have helped the PF Squad and Sparrow for the last time.” General Morden slammed his fists onto the table. The Hawk Unit was created to help out the PF Squad to “clean up” any remaining Rebel Soldiers that are staggering to either capture or kill off those that are still fighting against them. Once they are cleared out, The Hawk Unit would move in to claim any empty Rebel bases as theirs or The PF Squad's own or to secure and protect any territory, with or without cities, towns, or villages involved. The Hawk Unit, like the PS Squad, they have the highest trained men and women around or as Marco puts it, the most psychotic ones in the world except for their slightly crazy Major and their lovable but yet terrifyingly strong Captain, Rasha and Kevin. “This is not good,” Nadia whispered to Fio “We need to get out of here and contact Head Quarters right away.” Fio nodded and by moving an inch, the floorboard underneath them squeaked and they froze in fear of being caught. The meeting went quiet and all three of the men looked up at the hayloft and Allen O'Neil calmly and quietly strolled underneath it. “It would be a shame if there was somebody we know is up there.” Allen O'Neil winked at them. “What could it be? Rats? Birds? Regular scum wanting to die?” He did not hesitate, General Morden and Jonas covered their ears and took cover. Bullets shells piled around Allen O'Neil's feet, he let out a maniacal laugh and moved his M60 at random, spraying the entire Hayloft with bullet holes and his gun made a sound he always dreaded. A clicking sound of a gun running out of ammo. No sign of a body dropping or slumping over the edge, no blood oozing through the holes or cracks of the wood. Just splintered wood and ammo and Rebel Soldiers running into the barn at high alert, armed to the teeth with guns and dogs barking off in the distance. “You nitwit, you could have gotten us killed.” General Morden scolded him, “Sorry, General. I guess I must have gotten trigger happy.” Allen O'Neil replied. Fio and Nadia were in separate corners, sweat falling down their faces and hearts racing. They held their breath and not making any sudden move, out of fear of setting Allen O' Neil off again. Outside of the barn, Eri heard the M60 going off and feared for the worst and ran toward the barn now that every Rebel Soldier ran to investigate the shooting. She went around the back and found a recent stacked of crates and climbed them with no problem to the Hayloft's opening. She made a low psst sound to Nadia and Fio and signaled them to follow her out of the barn. Fio and Nadia climbed out and landed on the ground. “We need to get out of here. We got everything we needed to identify General Morden's new partners.” said Fio. They peaked around the corner and they found Rebel soldiers patrolling the campgrounds once again. “I got an idea,” Eri whispered to them “I rigged all of their transports but Morden's and you two escape in that car while I distract them by setting off the bombs.” Fio's eyes widen with shock, “What? We're not leaving you behind, Eri. We're getting out of here together.” Eri shakes her head, “If we do that, Fio. They can kill all three of us and no one will be there to give the full report on this mission but you and Nadia.” “She's right, Fio. We have to warn The PF Squad about The General's plans on destroying The Hawk Unit.” said Nadia. Fio was hesitant about this idea. She wants all three of them to make it back safe and sound but yet Eri is right about them getting all killed. She hugged Eri tight, “Good luck, best friend.” she whispered and ordered Nadia to follow her to the car. Eri watched them closely to make sure that they were in a safe location and reached into her pocket for a one switch detonator and pressed it. General Morden felt the whole barn shook around him, followed by the shout and screams of his soldiers. In unison, General Morden, Jonas, and Allen O'Neil ran out to see the carnage laid out before them. Soldiers running all over the place to put out the fire and they witnessed their car getting stolen and driven off. Guns out and shooting at the car, Eri touched off more explosive she hid in their fuel supplies, that would keep them busy while Eri figures a way to escape. She ran toward a motorcycle, untouched by guards and before she could reach for it, she was knocked down to the ground, with a bloody nose and a big fist grasping at her throat. “I figured it was one of you rats crawling around the camp.” Allen O'Neil Jr sneered at her. Eri kicked her legs and clawed at his arm to make him let her go. He drew his knife out, getting ready to finish Eri off, watching her squirming in his grasp and thought about enjoying it for a bit before killing her. Clawing at him was futile, Eri grasps around for anything and she has to make it fast for the world was turning black around her and she found a handle of her knife and plunged it deep into Allen O'Neil Jr's hand. The man let out a howling scream of pain and Eri stabbed him in the leg and kicked him in the face. Leaving her knife in his leg, Eri got on the motorcycle and it instantly roared to life with one with a kick on the starter and took off driving. Eri coughed and regained her focus and drove around the fleeing Rebels and took off onto the dirt road, away from the farmhouse and destruction left behind in her wakes. She glances back at them and looked forward to seeing where she's going and speed the bike up. Seeing in the Motorcycle's mirror, a Jeep is speeding up to catch up with her,“They never give up. Those idiots.” she muttered and rev up the motorcycle to go faster. “I'll teach you a lesson to stab my boy!” Allen O'Neil grabbed his M60, now reloaded and aimed it at Eri's motorcycle and shoot. Eri heard a loud pop and her whole body flew right off the motorcycle, taking a nasty tumble and groan out of pain, feeling her arm broken and blood dripping down her face. They're getting closer and she knows that she can't outrun them in the way she is now. A small burst of light appeared before Eri and she turned her attention on it. It was a Time Rift that everyone was talking about and one happened to appeared before her and now she got a choice. Be killed by the Rebels when they get caught up with her or face many of her dark past. She picked the latter and touched it with her good arm and a bright light lit up the whole area, causing the driver to crash the jeep and throwing Allen O'Neil off of it. When the balded man recovered and looked up, Eri was gone.