#I keep. shrieking. every time I see him. at such a high frequency that it hurts my own fucking ears. because. I can't believe that he exists

[running-in-the-dark]

sooooo

I'm 32 now

when can I expect to finally grow out of getting obsessed with men people stuff? I'm waiting....

#I doooo not want it #it's embarrassing #can it stop please #BUT also can I not feel depressed and like an empty shell when it's not happening #I mean I can handle it when it's things. hobbies. shows. whatever #sure it usually ends up being expensive as fuck but #at least I don't go around humiliating myself by talking about nothing but a random guy for months on end #how embarrassing! I think a man is hot! I must jump off a cliff immediately #but whyyyy can't I be normal about it at least #other people get obsessed with normal things! like. idk. anything else #soo anyway the opening narration for the texas chainsaw massacre is great isn't it? he did such a good job :) what a nice voice :) I am not #going to be weird about this man any longer :) no I won't! I'm normal about him! I don't want to bite him or chew on his face or anything #like that. just normal things. uh. sex? that's what people usually want. yeah fine that. I mean I do. want. oh I think I'm doing it again #haha no it's fine I just think he's neat (he's the only person on earth no one else exists anymore he's so beautiful oh my god have you seen #his little face he looks like a cute little potato I've never seen anything prettier in my life haha I need to run my hands through his hair #and have you seen how tall he is and he's so cute and I need to. be taken outside and shot. god. #I keep. shrieking. every time I see him. at such a high frequency that it hurts my own fucking ears. because. I can't believe that he exists #I'm. so. stupid!!!! #annnd repeat this every time this happens blah blah blah i should jsut delete this blog right now oh my GOD.

[lunarw0rks]

Through The Ashes | Alternate Ending

Summary: You've been given an offer to join the 141 Task Force. Upon taking it, you find yourself ensnared with the mysterious masked man who won't take his eyes off you.

Warning(s): canon-typical violence, mild injuries/gore, gun mention, suggestive content (18+), fluff

A/N: for those of you who desired a sunnier ending, here you go! This was requested by @redhoodsupergirl. the bold text is a passage from the original. I apologize if this is Bestie!Soap erasure h/j (I didn't know how to fit him in)

❥ y'all should comment where you think y/n went during leave, and if you think she ever came back | Word Count: 2.4k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST ORIGINAL ENDING // requests | ao3 ver. | playlist

Alternate Ending

“Good to see you boys again.” The glitched voice emitting through your wire stops you dead in your tracks. You place a hand on Ghost’s shoulder, yanking him to a stop so you can hear it further.

When he does, he sprints to the other side of the large room, checking the entrance and windows for any sign of hostiles.

You look at him wide-eyed, as the line goes dead again. Graves had patched into your frequency and clogged it so you couldn’t reach your team. Whatever he was planning before, it’s here now and there’s no time to stop.

Your earpiece unexpectedly picks up the frequency again when you reach the middle of the dining hall. It gargles out a few words that you can’t understand, and then it emits a high-pitched shriek so boosted it makes you keel over and rip it out.

Ghost moves quicker than before, as your hurried steps try to catch up with him, your boots echoing with each careful stride—as if to not get your foot caught in any of the uneven patches of flooring.

The glass on the chandeliers began to rattle, as did the glassware packed away in boxes. You felt the floor vibrate, and the tarps over the exposed drywall began to whoosh. The electricity flickered as a loud whoosh of a jet passed overhead. The lights exploded into sparks, making you cover your ears for cover.

You had no time to get any closer to the door before the force of a nearby explosion knocked you to the hard ground. The world around feels like it’s been tilted on its axis, and your vision is doubled. You see Ghost already scrambled to his feet, and he’s outstretching his hand to help you up.

You reach for it and just barely brush against his fingertips. When you’re too sluggish, he clasps your upper arm and jerks you toward him, just barely getting you upright.

Another jet passes overhead, and the sound of the engine fills your ears once more. When another bomb drops, it’s closer than the last. You knock into one of the pillars, losing your balance again. A clamorous groan of the building causes him to lose his grip on you, and you’re knocked down again, fading in and out of consciousness.

Ghost comes to, and looks around at the rubble before him. The section you ended up on was completely blocked by walls and exposed cables that shot sparks every few seconds. Besides those, the night sky was his only guide, casting a blue tint on the hotel now in pieces.

“7-1, this is Ghost, how copy?” He spoke into his radio, hoping to hear yours going off in the distance.

“Frequency’s shot…” He growled under his breath, tightening his lip in concentration. Not only was he down his comms, you were on the other side of the rubble, or God forbid, already gone.

Wherever you were, he was going to find you. You weren’t going to fight this alone, no matter what ambush Graves had planned.

He raised his rifle, sweeping the remains for any signs of Graves’ men. His ears were trained on any sound of life, enemy or not.

The place was quiet—too quiet, for his liking. Either his entire team was dead, or another fiery pass was coming.

The only way to the other side of the dining hall was climbing through one of the vents he spotted by the stairs if there was one remaining after the blast. He crept through the doorway, keeping his strides near silent as he made it to the stairwell, which was missing its bottom half now, nearly disconnecting the entire upper level of the building.

He spotted the vent and hoisted himself up on it using the front desk. He felt around inside, making sure it was stable enough to let him crawl through. His rifle went in first, then his upper half.

He inched his way through the tight squeeze, grunting at the strain it was putting on his ribs. He knew that pinching pain, he’d cracked a rib when the second pass sent you both astray. There was no time to whine, he kept army crawling through the vent, finally seeing the literal light at the end of the tunnel.

He made it to the other side, finally around the large lumps of rubble. He slung his rifle back to its previous position as he crept through the dark space, dodging the broken furniture and turning to ash before his eyes.

Finally, he heard the faint gurgling of a radio in the distance, meaning you had to be nearby, or at least your radio was.

His rifle lowered when he saw an arm sticking through one of the chunks of concrete, your full frame covered by a china cabinet that luckily was being held up by one of the remaining pillars. He’d never moved faster, shoving the cabinet aside like it was nothing to him.

His sore ribs screamed as he tore through the decay, finally revealing you to him.

He let out an audible sigh, seeing that you didn’t end up in the gruesome state he was imagining you in when your hand left his. Besides being banged up, it seemed only your foot had been nailed by the wreckage.

He knelt beside you, pressing his two fingers to find a pulse. Faint, but there nonetheless.

“Ghost, what’s your status?” His radio chimed, forcing him to take his attention off you for a few moments. “Ghost, do you copy?” The voice repeated.

“This is 7-1 Ghost responding, solid copy. One injured, working towards an exit strategy now.”

He engaged back, only keeping himself composed because he knew he had a job to do. You. It was his job to get you out of here, and he’d be dead before he failed that job.

Your eyes opened only a small amount at the sound of his rough voice. You were too out of it to be of any assistance, or to figure out what the hell happened for that matter.

When you tried to move yourself out of the odd position you were in, he pinned you by the shoulders. “Don’t move your legs.” He muttered, scanning the situation around him for a way to jack the rubble up and free the foot.

You had no choice but to lay there, coming in and out of prudence. The only pain you felt besides a small headache, was a persistent compressing sensation in your right foot.

He managed to use one of the boards as a jack, hiking the block up enough to shove your foot out from under it.

You groaned at the sudden release of its pressure, which only unleashed the pain the lack of blood flow was preventing. At least you knew your foot still had some nerves left, if you were in a position to think of the silver lining.

“Lean on me, Sergeant.” He wrapped his arms around you, using all his strength to get you upright. There was no way you’d be putting weight on your leg, so he not only had to guide you out of here, but now he had to find an exit.

Your head fell forward as he practically dragged you along, unable to hold any part of yourself together.

“I got you…” He kept repeating it as if he was also comforting himself. He pulled out his sidearm, keeping it at the side with his free hand.

He squinted into the void, finding a patch of wall that had a hole big enough for the both of you. That was his best bet.

There was no guarantee this “convoy” would be out there waiting for you two, in position to neutralize the two of you the second he crawled through. That was the risk he was willing to take. 

Worst case; you looked mangled enough, that if he needed to shield you while being pumped with bullets, there might be a chance of you passing for a dead body.

“7-1, approaching the South side. Is it clear?”

“All clear. No sign of hostiles since the blast.”

He threaded himself through first, scanning the hillside to be sure of its safety first just in case. He leaned through wrapping your arms around him first, then lifting you so you would have to put pressure on the leg.

When you’re both through, he slithers down the tattered village, looking for any sign of the team.

He spotted the emergency lights in the distance, finally finding the triage center Price set up. When the superior turns his head, seeing Ghost’s outline carrying your unconscious self, he runs over, helping to distribute some of your dead weight.

“Leg injury, concussion too,” Ghost spoke in a pressurized tone as you were passed along to the medics. Price watched Simon with concern, privy to his attempts at hiding his own injuries—he’d done it many a time before.

Captain Price replied sternly, making sure the entire Task Force was at his attention.

“I want us all out of here before Graves gets a hold of another bloody missile. We’re going to recover, and then come at him hard.” 

—

The four hours it took for your surgery to finish, he spent pacing in his dorm, despite the nurse’s orders to stay off his feet. He did indeed have a rib fracture, and he was lucky that’s all had, according to the medics.

A soft knock at his door halted his anxious pacing, making him hastily open the door. He was greeted by Price, whose professional poker face wasn’t doing Simon’s unnerve any favors.

“Hospital called me. The surgery went just fine, but they’re keeping her for observation.”

If he wasn’t so experienced in keeping his composure, he would’ve jumped into his car and driven there that second. Price kept the announcement short, and continued on his way back to his office.

Despite whatever came of all of this, you were out. He’d gotten you out, and you were now free to get out of this hellhole before it swallowed you.

That look on your face when you asked him about the violence, and how everyone else carried on like it wasn’t making them sick to their stomach.

That look was the reason you needed out of this life. He wouldn’t deny your skills as an operator for a minute, but you weren’t broken like he was. Not yet. If you were to have second thoughts about stress leave, he’d push you out the door himself. Nearly losing you today was enough convincing.

—

Simon stared blankly out the window of the bar he’d picked out.

Every vehicle that pulled into the lot made him straighten his posture, hoping it would be you each time. Finally, a taxi pulled in, and he saw your familiar figure step out. The dim lights on the entrance didn’t do much to reveal your state to him as you passed the windows, making your way towards the entrance.

The ding of the bell above the door makes him set his bottle down and lift the scowl off his face.

“Thought you wouldn’t show.” He said as you approached the booth, a large cast on your right leg, and a few scrapes in the process of healing.

“Why not? You pulled me out of a burning building, L.T.” You carefully tucked your leg into the booth, shifting in the cushion to get comfortable. The limited movements were something you still needed to get used to, but you were glad to even have a leg.

“Simon.” He says, making you lift your eyes from the menu. “You’re not under me anymore.” The last sentence sounded like a justification as if that wasn’t his real reason for letting you use his name.

If you had told your past self, the newbie with a fresh hatred for him, that you’d be sitting in a bar having a civil conversation—you’d have thrown a fit.

The drink he ordered for you arrived; a stout, of course.

“How’s the pain?” He asked, attempting to mask his concern as he finished off his pint.

“Burns sometimes… but other than that, no nerve damage.” You responded, resting your chin on your fist.

“Shouldn’t put a damper on your vacation then, right?”

You chuckled at his attempt at humor. “Not on my watch. I’ll be relaxing with one leg up the entire time if I can help it.”

His eyes scanned you in an up-and-down fashion as you sneered—like you’d noticed him doing many times before. At least this time it wasn’t lustful or hateful, it was civility.

You both enjoyed a few drinks, keeping up the friendly banter through the entire evening. As the bartenders began wiping down tables and flipping chairs, he placed a bill on the table and walked you to the door.

You turned on your phone, checking the time. “I should get going. My flight was pushed to to tomorrow morning.”

“I can drive you, in the morning?” He proposed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

You smirked and stepped a little closer. “I think we’re past sharing car rides with one another, Simon.” You had flashbacks to the last time he drove you somewhere, which only ended in a very risky hookup.

You could picture the reddened cheeks he had, even through the mask. His mouth said nothing in response, but his eyes had a way of uttering the words ‘Touché’ at your brazen remark.

He’d die at the chance of touching you again, but you weren’t in any position physically; emotionally, you were right about one thing—the impure mistakes you two made on your journey to this point.

You opened the taxi app you’d used previously and arranged your ride back to the hotel, exchanging glances with him as he watched you. You slid your phone into the pocket of your wallet, waiting patiently for your ride.

Like many times before, the silence between you two was more than enough conversation. Though there were thoughts racing through his head the entire time, he wasn’t sure where to start.

The crunch of the gravel under the taxi’s tires woke you both up, making you turn to one another for your farewell. A hug too innocent, a handshake too professional, and words unjust.

As you approached the car door, he cleared his throat to get your attention. He’d be damned if he didn’t get this out of his system before you leave the Task Force and possibly never see him again.

“Did you bring your files with you?” He asked, making you contort your brows in confusion. Files?

“The number listed on mine,” he began, shifting in his stance as he gathered the courage for his brave finish.

“You should call it.”

TAGLIST: @neoarchipelago @ghostlythots @gothgirl6-6-6 @cloudyyjanee @ladyelissarose @almightywdm @glitterypirateduck @brokenghostgirl1 @cheyenne-with-a-c @a-jupiter-n-mars-blog @liliumbosniacum (if you're not tagged it's not letting me)

#simon riley x reader #mw2 fanfic #mw2 #call of duty #ghost mw2 #task force 141 #simon riley #simon riley fluff #simon riley angst #task force 141 x reader

[kanene-yaaay]

5+1 [Part 3]

5 times Iida was tickled and the one time he wasn’t.

[PART ONE]

[PART TWO]

Kanene’s note: Heyaaa! Okay, I just want you to know that I am WEAK for b-day tickles ! It's just so cute and :'3 *whispering softly* truly precious. Oh, Tenya is 12 years old now! Y a y

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to the anime/manga Boku no Hero.

* This is a SFW tickle fanfic with family tickles, so, if you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of very greeat arts in this site!! ^w^)b

* This is Lee!Tenya with Ler!Hizashi + Ler!Aizawa with brief Ler!Tensei and Lee!Aizawa. All relationships are platonic. Around 1.800 words.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Allow yourself to have a slow day. Don’t forget to drink water, sleep and eat! <33

[~*~]

Iida drank a second cup of his special orange juice - used only on commemorative days and events - thoughtfully. His birthday party would be late in the evening and, since his family wanted to make it a surprise, he would spend the whole day hanging out with his brother, Aizawa-san and Hizashi-san until all the preparations would be complete. He, of course, offered himself to help with all the decorations, but his parents were firm on their decision and Tenya would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited to have some quality time with his brother and the other two heroes. Their work usually demanded a lot of their time.

 Still locked on his thoughts, as the doorbell rang, the teenager opened the door without a second thought in a polite stance, being rudely pulled out of his own mind as he stared at Aizawa and Hizashi, both with dangerous smirks that suddenly filled Iida with clear memories of a tradition Tensei started on the boy’s birthday and his ‘uncles’ (Tenya one day protested at the nickname, pointing it didn’t make sense call them like that because they aren’t blood related. However, his parents explained that this was just a way to express fondness and closeness for someone you care about. The younger one began to call them uncles with more frequency, except on social gatherings) caught on it as well.

 “Hello! ~” Hizashi chipped, making goosebumps run down his spine as Iida closed the door on their face, internally wincing at the clear disrespectful act, however valuing much more his safety than being a polite host.

(But, actually, he wasn’t truly anxious about it. They were always nice and kind with him, making him smile and enjoy himself, even when he wasn’t the perfect model he struggled to be.)

 Tensei’s head peaked from the second living room’s hall as he dashed at full speed across it, accompanying his baby bro with ease and drops of confusion. “Who was it at the door?”

 “Uncles!” Tenya frowned in concentration as he turned the corner, lowering his speed enough to not go face first on the wall, cheeks slightly red and sputtering starting to become present on his tune. “They are going to do that hideous tr-tradition you started when I was a kid!” And Iida Tenya, future hero from a whole noble ancestry of skilled heroes, definitely did NOT pout at his brother’s carefree laughter.

 “Oh, yeah! I forgot about that! It’s so polite of them to help me to remember, don’t you think?”

 “No!! It’s not polite! High level heroes like you shouldn’t be committing such embarrassing, hideous act in the first place, even less repeating it yearly!!”

 “Aww, you’re repeating your words. You’re excited, aren’t you?” Tensei smiled, knowing his brother enough to notice that gleam in his eyes and the lack of a real protest in his words. He ignored the squeaked ‘NO!’ thrown at him and smiled even wider, doing a fast maneuver that put his body between his brother and the door, hugging him on his chest with a ‘oof’ when they inevitably collided. “You know what? Since they’re being so nice with us, I think we should repay their kindness, right?” Tensei grinned when he heard the footsteps coming closer, shouting “HEY, GUYS! BIRTHDAY BOY IS HERE!”

 “Tensei!!” But he was already smiling, squirming excitedly on his brother’s hold, especially when a loud, happy ‘YEAHHH!’ boomed through the house. “No, no!! This is betrayal! Deception! Dishonesty! Trickery! Treason!!!”

 “Now you’re just reciting the dictionary.” Ingenium laughed, no hint of regret on his voice, distractedly nodding at his friends when they appeared at the door. “Look,” he whispered, conspiratorially, “I will need you to distract them until Shouta lowers his guard so I can sneak upon him. Hizashi would never pass up an opportunity to tickle him too, so you will be safe to run and get something useful for us to bribe them with, ok?” The younger gasped, quickly nodding. “Right. So, are you ready for your part of the plan, sidekick?”

 “YES!” Iida chomped the air, voice louder than he originally intended, but his squeal even louder as the other Iida squeezed his side before any hint of what they were talking about could be noticed by the two guests, who now were now much closer, I might say.

 “Now, now. It seems like a little listener here is excited for his so desired birthday tickles!!” Hizashi wiggled his fingers in his direction, meaneancily. “Oh! They grow up so fast! It feels like it was yesterday we would be playing heroes, and I, the most incredible villain LoudChaos would be defeated by Ingenium Junior and his vicious attacks of kicking his pillows at me!!” The blond pinched his cheek playfully, watching as the groan of his nephew dissolved in a determined look a few seconds later, energetic gestures following him.

 “You will never be able to crack me, villains. Not even with embarrassing memories from my childhood!”

 “I don’t know, I think those times when we had to buy at least three copies of your favorite plushie because otherwise you wouldn’t let us wash the original was pretty- ack! Hey, hey!” Tensei snickered as he tried to dodge from Tenya’s warning kicks, “I was kidding! I was kidding!”

 “Want me to hold him?” Aizawa asked nonchalantly, a small quirk of his mouth showing his amusement about the whole situation. At Tensei's affirmative nod he held the younger’s arms above his head, briefly messing with his neat combed hair before smirking. “Congrats for being twelve years next to death, brat.”

 Tenya deadpanned at him.

 “Ooh, right, twelve!!” Hizashi’s fingers were teasingly getting closer, slowly and then even slowlier, almost touching a spot before pretending to launch at others, resulting in kicks and muffled shrieks from the younger one. “You know what that means, right, Shou?”

 “Yes. We will have to tickle him for twelve entire years.”

 “Aw, such a pity.”

 “No! Lies! That is incorrect!”

 “Is that so, not-so-little listener? What should we do then?”

 “According to your rather silly and foolery tradition you should tickle me for twelve entire minutes. One minute for each year.”

 Aizawa and Yamada shared a look, Tensei holding his chuckles and tears in the background. His brother was just way too much precious.

 “We should what?” Shouta questioned with a voice completely devoid of emotion, maybe that is why Tenya felt the answer slip away from his lips easily even before he could register the potential trap.

 “Tickle me!”

 “Well,” Hizashi attacked, skilled fingers tickling and tickling and tickling every spot they could research. “If you insist.”

 There were fingers dancing on his ribs and poking his stomach as a maddening prodding began to be delivered on his sides and even a squeeze found its way to his knee. A much more lazy, almost unbearably light touch drew shapes on his neck, scribbling lightly and softly to his ears and then all the way back to his collarbone, going from one side to another, over and over again.

 “Coothie coothie coo, little listener!!” His loud laughter, intertwined with squeaks, yelps and guffaws due the mix between all the soft and energetic tickles, almost made the teasing disappear. Key word: Almost. “Have a tickle, tickle here!” He shook his head, trying to dislodge the fingers on his neck. “And tickle, tickle, tickle there!” Spidering on his shoulder blades made him squirm more. “Have all the tickles, tickly tickles everywhere!!”

 “YOHOHOHOU WILL NOT DEFEHEHEAT ME!” Tenya’s smile was almost taking over his entire face, chuckles and giggles spilling freely from him. Yet, - he decided, - he has an important part of the plan and would not lose easily! That was the only reason why he continued firm on his position, figuratively laughing his head out, and definitely not because of how their attention and silliness made him feel happy, safe and loved.

 “Of course not.” Shouta paused for a few pieces of seconds, checking his phone. “You still have five minutes left. I am sure you will agree to a defeat, eventually.”

 “Nehehever!” Iida did his best to shout, quick, airy snickers floating in the air when Yamada decided to give him a break, leaving only Shouta’s torment to keep the other smiling.

 “Hey, hey, hey, little listener!” Tenya knew this tune. He knew that when Uncle Hizashi used that he was planning something. His smile became wobblier and he refused to open his eyes. “Come on, don’t let me hang on here! Look at me, pleaaase?”

 The boy just shook his head, eyes still firmly closed.

 “Shoouuu, he doesn’t want to see the big, great, amazing surprise I have for him! That is not fair.”

 “He is smart. It’s not his fault for your lack of charisma.”

 “Gaaasp! You wound me! Friendship ended with Ereaserhead, now my new best friend is Tensei!”

 A pause.

 “Buuuut, the vacancy is still open if maybe, just maaaybe,” A wiggly finger tickled under his chin, a snort flew in the air, “a clever teenager with a cute laughter and blue hair decides to open his eyes…”

 “Yohohou will not crahack me!”

 “Please,” Poke, “Please, please, pleasepleaseplease!” Poke, poke, pokepokepoke-

 “Stop!” And then he finally opened his eyes, finding a very smiley Hizashi in front of him, making a silly face. He half groaned and half giggled, the former action only due Aizawa’s tickles, of course.

 “Aw, you didn’t find it funny?” The blonde crossed his arms, pretending to think about his next move. “Donut worry, then! I know something that will make you laugh!!”

 And then, in a blink of an eye, he blew a gigantic raspberry on his tummy.

 In the exact moment Tenya’s loud, uncontrollable, squeaky belly laughter exploded, Aizawa let go of his arms, a surprised, sharp snorts coming out as Tensei hugged him from behind, his hands being quick to attack his unprotect armpits, low muffled squeals and rumbling chuckles beginning to float in the air.

 Tenya fell on his knees, hugging his stomach and tittering non stop as Yamada tenderly ruffled his hair, giving the boy’s cheeks another gentle pinch before getting his attention captured by his best friend’s tickled laughter, his wicked grin making another appearance.

 “Is it already Tickle Shouta hours??” He cracked and wiggled his fingers, making a whole show of getting prepared, crackling in delight as the black haired adult laughed harder at the silliness, laying completely limp on Ingenium’s embrace, face starting to be colored by a light red, legs kicking and a hand hiding his mouth, even if the corner of his smile was still clearly visible.

 And, as Iida laid on the cold floor, rarefied giggles escaping from time to time, as new laughter and teases filled the room, he thought that he actually didn’t mind that much that such foolery, silly tradition had wormed its way in their family.

#Me @ myself: CAN WE HAVE *ONE* ENDING WITHOUT IT BEING SOFT??? Me: No <3 #Playful tickles #birthday tickles #B-DAY TICKLES ARE SO AMAZING I LIKE IT SO MUCH AA <33 #Hizashi is such a silly ler sxdfghjkjhgfd #Aizawa the tickle monster is back again and he brought a friend #>:3 #Ler!Hizashi #Ler!Aizawa #Lee!Tenya #Brief Ler!Tensei and Ler!Hizashi with Lee!Aizawa #bnha tickles #bnha tickling #family tickles #brief mouth tickles #brief raspberry #Blink and you will miss the angst #I am so glad I finally got to post that. I luv this series so much <333 #Ticklish!Iida #Kanenes fic #Kanene's fanfic #Kanene's AU #awww they luv each other awww

[real-fanta-sea]

Hello!!💚😊 do you still write kiss requests?? For Trevor/Mike ship and can I request something for 'bury the hatchet' mission with 11 or 57 number? I really love to see how Trevor saves Michael so😍😱

Thank you!💗

Hi sweetie! I'm sorry it took me so long, but it's finally here! Find it under "keep reading". If you prefer AO3, click here to read the fic. tw mentions of violence, kissing, kinky old men

"Get the boyfriend!"

"The WHAT?" Michael huffed out, along with a small puff of fog, as he crouched behind a thumb stone that felt too small to shield him. Of all things, why would they think they were dating? Like, that were the signs? Can't two guys share a trailer, a bed, a shower, a coffee mug, cigarettes, whiskey bottles and take-out receipts without arising suspicion? Can't two consenting adults watch each other read a porn magazine while relieving stress? Is it a sign of marital status to carry someone over a threshold while high on... whatever was Trevor high on? Michael cringed inwardly as a bullet grazed the top of the stone and made the falling snowflakes find refuge on the back of his neck. There was no time to mull that over. The crunch of footsteps and angry commands closed in, and he had to act fast.

He did the math frantically. His pistol still had 16 bullets ready to be planted into the brains of whoever he aimed at. There was another full magazine in his jacket pocket. Good. Michael peered above the top of the stone, now chipped into a monstrous row of teeth. The silence has been ruptured by the sound of breaks. Judging by the urgent stomping, there were far more than 33 men to bury that night. Michael ducked and ran towards a statue of an angel reclining over another piece of stone, big enough to hide him under its sorrowful wings. Finally able to stretch out, he took a deep breath and cracked his neck. He remembered the last time he had to fight off so many people and cursed when he shot a look back towards Brad's grave. At that time, there was no blanket and a cup of hot coffee waiting for him. At that time, dance macabre was all too real for comfort. But it was not a time to die; he convinced himself. Not in the freezy shithole called North Yankton. Not without a fight.

Just when he peered over the side of the sculpture, the world around him slowed down into a strange state of blue trance. He shot four men in a matter of seconds, retreated to his cover, and resurfaced again behind a different piece of stone. All he could feel was a stinging sensation on his face as he collapsed with snowflakes, a soft crunch of virgin snow below his feet mixed with the recoil of the gun in his hand, going off in time with the rhythm of his heart. He wouldn't have minded if the state of focus and tranquillity remained his primary state of being. To be faster than others, not feeling the bullets licking skin and flesh off of his body, killing without remorse - he missed such balance in his retired life.

Not many voices filled the graveyard when Michael finally threw his pistol away and snatched a gun from a random unlucky henchman whose blood was rapidly cooling on the ground. The relative silence unnerved him. The math didn't add up, and even when he cracked his neck again to relieve some of the pressure, the popping sound didn't fill the space enough to be comfortable again. Only when he ascended from the aisle, ducking, eyes darting all over the dark place, he noticed how fast he was breathing and that his hands were shaking.

Fuck it, he thought to himself, that one extra burger, coke and pizza every now and then, when he couldn't sleep, did hurt after all. Maybe Mandy was right to nag at him for smoking too. Before he could make an oath to himself to start exercising once he got away from the situation. Before he could even turn around in awe, the bushes behind his back rustled and gave birth to a furious Chinese man. The newborn didn't spare a second to hit the back of Michael's head with something Mike later identified as the butt of his gun and knocked the dumbfounded Michael unconscious.

It didn't take long for Michael to wake up, but the world was swirling around him into a smudged black-eye blue mush, and it reeked of puke. There was a horrible echo of voices nagging in his throbbing head, and it took a lot of him to recognize two twitching shadows dragging him through the muddy snow. For a split second, he felt weightless as the shadows threw him inside a gaping black space and the thunder of the van door being shut made him shriek in pain.

For what felt like an eternity, his existence was reduced to watching a streak of orange light running towards his chest and vanishing before it reached his head. Michael scrutinized the small cut out in the wall that divided his dark cell and the cockpit of the van and marvelled at the sounds emerging with every blink of the orange light. The slight rocking of the vehicle only served to make him more nauseated in between his scattered thoughts. Why haven't they killed him was among the first coherent questions his brain was capable of producing. Why would they want him alive? The light blinked away rapidly and brought about the noise of radio static and two voices fighting over what frequency to tune in. Get the boyfriend. Why was the question coming back then?

Michael groaned as the deafening sound of Channel X pinned him to the ground again. Boyfriend. He recognized the music. He remembered. They thought Trevor would pay whatever price they demanded in exchange for his safety. A bitter chuckle escaped his lips, and he didn't try to stop it for a change. How they could still think that after witnessing their bickering at Brad's grave, Michael wasn't entirely sure. What he knew with paralyzing certainty was that no one was coming to save him, and it was Trevor's fault. In between the blinks of light and throbbing pain, his memories ran back to the moment Brad unknowingly shielded Trevor as it often did in the past ten years and wished once again Dave either pulled the trigger a second later or aimed for Michael's head.

He didn't know whether to be annoyed or thankful when screeching breaks interrupted his daydreaming session. Judging by the high-pitched angry Chinese, they either had some very unfortunate flat tyre, or they ran into trouble. Or, which was something Michael didn't want to think about, they arrived at their lair and discussed the best way to make a chop suey from his guts. He shifted slightly, shaking off the inappropriate thoughts his mind offered him. It did him no good to think about alternate universes where all his problems were gone, and he was roasting under Los Santos sun by his pool.

The sliding door opened, and Michael was immediately hit into the face with a sluggish white light and smell of iron. Just one glance at the tiles plastered all over the walls, hooks idly clinging in the draft, and he knew exactly where they were. A shiny tray with a handsaw grinned right back at him from the centre of silhouettes of men. Oh god, he was so screwed. So fucked over. He made a mental note to kick Trevor in the balls when... IF... he sees him again. A pair of hands grabbed his ankles and pulled him out of the car, his head bouncing off the ground when it hit ice-cold concrete. Michael shivered. Was it really all there was for him? Would the famous Michael Townley, the phantom of the north, end up minced into Flormart burgers? A curse escaped his lips when he imagined the limp, tasteless slice of pickle and an unnaturally orange slice of cheese tiredly melting on his flesh in someone's microwave. He could withstand any torture but that.

"Hey you, you are awake, aren't you?"

Michael winced inwardly and squinted his eyes against the bright light. "Oh, am I? I didn't know! Are you a doctor or something?"

There was a prompt leathern shoe planted into his face. Michael hissed upon contact, the smell of cheap shoe glue imprinting into his memory. So much for a well-meant, friendly sarcasm.

"Ok, I got it. I'll shut up."

"You better should, pig!" There were several snorts around him, obscured by the bright light. Michael's cheek throbbed. If he was a pig about to be made into bacon strips, he swore to take them with him. The guy who kicked him circled around like a shark.

"Now, tell me. Where does your boyfriend keep the drugs?"

Michael just snickered and shrugged as best as his tied arms allowed. The shadows stepped closer, towering above him. He felt another kick; this time, the shoe bit into his ribs, making him hiss.

"ANSWER!"

A pair of hands yanked him onto his knees. The floor crushed into them, a painful reminder he should have picked up yoga when his wife told him so.

"I DON'T KNOW!"

The sole of the shoe pushed into the middle of his back, stretching his muscles to their capacity. Michael's forehead was pearled with sweat. He could barely breathe. Any further, and he was sure he would throw up.

"Do you think we are stupid?"

The pressure worsened. Michael gasped for air.

"We've seen him carry you over the threshold, and we know from a reliable source you share the bed with him,"

A picture of Ron shaking in the middle of a hostile office, surrounded by the same shadows, flashed through Michael's mind before he blinked it away. Another mental note was taken. Kick Ron's balls right after kicking Trevor's.

"AND YOU HAVE THE NERVE TO CLAIM YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHERE HE KEEPS HIS ASSETS WHEN WE KNOW YOU SQUAT ON HIS DICK EVERY NIGHT???"

"Believe it or not," Michael gasped and tried to turn just enough to look the bastard who stepped on him in the eye, "I don't know anything. Oh, and it's not me who squats; I am more of the top kind of guy."

It occurred to Michael the Chinese guy who led the interrogation had a strange sense of symmetry because before he knew it, he had another pulsating bruise spread over the other side of his ribs. He wanted to think the remark was worth it, even though his body told him otherwise.

"Hang that fag on a hook - let's see if he remembers with more blood in his brain."

For a second, Michael panicked. There were too many hands grabbing and groping him, turning him, and he remembered how he, as a little boy watched spiders do just that with flies in their webs, both horrified and fascinated. He has always considered himself a spider in such situations. Oh, how the turntables! He now was the fly, and the spider was walking away.

"HEY, WAIT!"

The hands kept him floating in the air, and the man stopped in his path, turning around.

"Hm? What is it?"

Michael's eyes rounded, even though he desperately tried to fight the trepidation. "You are terribly wrong about this. I am not his boyfriend, just an acquaintance. I have no idea how you guys are affiliated, but whatever this is about, it all runs down to money, right?"

The man folded his arms on his chest slowly, visibly taking pride in Michael's panic, but his thin lips kept shut.

"I'll pay you if you release me. Generous money, actually. That's what you guys want, right? That's what everybody wants."

The man took a few steps closer, right under one of the beaming tube lights. Michael gulped when he saw the grin on his handsome face. It took him a surprisingly low effort to come close to Michael and grab his jaw in a vice grip.

"Have your whining ever worked on anyone?"

Michael shook his head ever so slightly. He got a shark-like grin in response.

"What we want is to know where your lover, Trevor Phillips, keeps his merchandise and take what is contractually, thus rightfully ours. Tell us, and maybe we will let you go."

His eyes were as black as Trevor's when Michael last saw them, yet there was no shadow of affection in these. The man who looked at him was by all means already dead inside. The hand slipped away from his jaw, but Michael could still feel where his new friend left purple imprints.

"I thought so. Never mind, after the night spent upside down, I hope your point of view will change. HANG HIM!"

All of a sudden, there was a roar of an engine from somewhere above. Michael tried to locate the sound, but it glided away, much to his captors' disdain. There was a cacophony of stomping and foreign words bouncing off the walls, mixing in with the cry of sliding door and hum of the engine coming back.

"HEY!"

His voice was too weak against the noise. No one noticed him twitching; no one cared he was still there.

"HEY, MOTHERFUCKERS, WHAT'S GOING ON!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" was the answer from one of the men, along with a sting of a gunstock on his eye. Michael didn't need answers anymore, though, as the barking of shots and cries of mowed down men crept through the open door. Not so silently, he cursed Trevor for dragging him right into the middle of mafia wars, something he had no desire to see up close. Leaving him in the graveyard alone with a mob? One kick in the balls. Letting them kidnap him and hang him like a piece of ham? Two kicks in the balls. Letting the mafia kill him in a shoot out? Thousands of years of haunting Trevor and another kick in the balls as soon as they both reincarnate. Gunshots from outside closed in on him.

Michael tried to break free from the ropes but only managed to swing back and forth.

"Oh FUCK, I'm going to KILL HIM! YOU'RE SO DEAD, TREVOR!"

"MICHAEL!"

At first, Michael thought he was hearing things. In his state of panic, his brain couldn't get a grip of how the hell Trevor knew where to find him, let alone come and rescue him after he almost shot him. Then he thought that some kind of vessel must have busted in his head, for the familiar voice was accompanied by an even more familiar tall outline topped by a crown of ruffled dark brown hair. He couldn't help but blink rapidly a couple of times, dumbfounded in the middle of the slaughterhouse.

"JESUS, MIKEY!!!"

There were rushed steps, a sound of a gun falling to the ground, followed by two trembling hands cupping his face. Michael closed his eyes and relied on other senses to confirm his suspicion. First, there was a smell of late-night coffees, morning cigarettes, diesel fuel and cheap soap he bought for Trevor not so long ago. Second, there were two big hands, fingers brushing around the edges of his bruises in a way they did years ago when they both were different people, but somehow they did remember how to soothe him. Third, there was a deep-set voice trembling with worry whispering his name. And finally, when Michael opened his eyes again, there were the amber eyes, glazed, terrified and hurt. There was no doubt anymore. Trevor came back for him.

"Oh god, I was so fucking afraid!"

Michael couldn't keep angry when faced with the first shy tears welling in Trevor's eyes, but his ability to speak left him as they fell down and disappeared into the blackness of Trevor's shirt. So instead, he let Trevor's hands caress him, oddly at peace with the gentle touch on his face.

"To think I almost lost you again!" Trevor bit his lip. Something about the droplet of blood blooming under his teeth left Michael breathless. "I was so angry, infuriated much, yes, but then I imagined you laying there with Brad and..."

Trevor gazed into Michael's eyes with such urgency it immediately reminded him of their first kill. The fear mixed in with the red gleam in his eyes, the sense of irreparable, coming back from the past to haunt them. Lost in thought, Michael didn't register the swift movement right in front of him and was caught by surprise by a feeling of having his lips pressed against Trevor's.

They were hot, trembling, and tasted of cigarettes and blood, a mixture Michael desperately tried to forget about. Where they first gently touched his, as if they couldn't believe he was still alive and well, they pressed harder in mere seconds, making Michael's eyes flutter shut. It was difficult for him to admit, but Trevor's lips were the only drug Michael craved for long and lonely ten years. For once, he let his nagging reason get hushed by the shy movement of Trevor's lips, and all the hatred slipped his mind momentarily.

At length, Trevor broke the kiss, and still holding onto Michael's cheeks, he gently propped his forehead against Michael's. Michael let him take a break, listening to his shallow breathing, and their thoughts were buzzing almost audibly where their skin touched.

"Oh god, to think I almost lost you..."

"It's ok, T; I'm still hanging on."

"Yeah, but what if I didn't turn around and follow that convoy? What if they killed you?"

"You could say I would hang around for a bit, and then they would kick me out."

Trevor raised his head and furrowed a bit. "What's that with you and emphasize on hanging?"

Michael raised eyebrows at him and waited till the realization would dawn on Trevor. It took three seconds for Trevor's eyes to round and his mouth to form a perfect 'o'.

"Oh, yeah, uh, I see. Wait a moment, sugar."

Michael's feelings on Trevor holding a knife were usually on the border between panic and deep fucking rooted urge to run for the hills. When Trevor approached him and swung it around his face, Michael was momentarily inclined to the second option, twitching nervously under the cold gleam of the knife. Trevor eyed him with palpable exhaustion.

"Stop wiggling goddammit, do you want to get cut?"

Michael pouted at him.

"Hey, don't give me THAT face, pork chop! It wasn't MY idea to tie you up and hook you here!"

Trevor's knife slowly cut through ropes, murmuring as it bit through thick threads. The very tip brushed against Michael's leg, leaving goosebumps in the wake of its cold touch.

"But I have to say this is kinda hot, eh?" Trevor's grin was back, the brightest light in the room. "How about we try it again when we get back home?"

"What the FUCK are you talking about, Trevor?"

Trevor leant in, still grinning, his knife gliding against Michael's waist.

"I mean, I will send Patricia shopping,"

The knife dipped lower, slipping under Michael's shirt. He gasped, inwardly cursing for giving Trevor the tiniest bit of gratification.

"then I'll take some nice silk rope,"

The dull side of the blade ran through chest hair lush between trembling peaks of his nipples.

"tie you up and make some sweet, sweet love to you, cupcake!"

Trevor's lips were so close, his breath on Michael's lips again, who was petrified with anticipation. His heart hammered against the patch of goosebumps on his chest, and if the last bit of rope didn't snap and let him slide off the hook, Michael would have leaned in himself and stole that kiss. But, instead of the sweet release, he was sent to the cold ground head first, folding like a rag doll upon impact.

Not only Michael sustained another hit on his head, swearing and kicking around, not unlike the turtle Amanda bought for the kids and that he and Jimmy used to torture by putting it on its back, laughing about the way it tried to turn over, but it was Trevor who was laughing his lungs out, folded in half. Michael tried to stab him with a menacing glare, but it didn't help in the slightest. Gathering the last shred of strength, Michael scraped to his feet and balling fists full of Trevor's jacket, he threw them both against deadly green tiles.

Trevor's laugh died out soon after the impact, but the grin remained despite Michael pinning him down. At first, Michael's intention was to beat him up, partially to let the frustration out, partially to get revenge for the stolen kiss, but he was taken aback when Trevor's hands closed over his fists and squeezed gently.

"Whatcha gonna do, Mikey?" Trevor uttered in an irresistibly husky voice that sent shivers of excitement to all the wrong places, "Beat me for saving your life?" Michael growled.

"You fucking..." but the words he wanted to say got sucked back into the vortex of emotion running free in his ribcage. No, beating wasn't what Michael's mind supplied him with when it came to what to do with Trevor. He could barely resist the vivid pictures of Trevor, hair running down his slender back, undressing in front of him, leaving marks on his neck and long scratches speaking volumes about how Michael liked to celebrate their victories. And then, on that day, Trevor was there. Older, but just as tempting, daring, enclosing Michael in the smell of both freedom and slavery with each exhale. Michael took a deep breath. He couldn't help but give in to the craving.

Trevor yelped when Michael crashed his lips with his so hard their teeth clinked together. That was the thrill he wanted to relive, and as soon as Trevor's hands rested against his lower back, pulling him closer, Michael surged deeper and dared to brush his tongue against Trevor's. The choked moan he managed to draw out fueled his fingers in their haste, letting go of fabric and instead bury themselves into Trevor's hair, pulling him closer. Trevor's skin could have combusted any second with the heat it emitted, and Michael couldn't resist yanking him closer, eager to get burned once again.

"Mikey... Jesus Christ!"

Trevor could barely breathe, so much Michael could tell by the heaving of chest caught between the wall and his own body. He was proud of the trembling in Trevor's touch, of shallow breaths and flushed cheeks right in front of him. He still got it.

"What?" Michael grinned impishly and let one of his hands slide down Trevor's back and squeeze him. Trevor yelped in surprise but didn't try to wriggle out of the embrace and even giggled when Michael let his hand rest there. Trevor leaned in closer, his breath sending shivers down Michael's spine as it touched his ear.

"Let's go home, cupcake."

#trikey #gta 5 #trevor philips #michael de santa #real_fanta_sea.fic #kiss prompts

[proudfreakmetarusonniku]

The duty of a Pearl is to serve their Diamond.

At least, that's what Tommy was taught anyway.

It had a millennia since he was first given to Green Diamond by Gold Diamond, but he would never forget the moment he laid eyes upon the white-masked ruler. Neon green arms caught the light of the room around them and gave Green a luminescent appearance, despite his body already being made of projected light. The space station almost seemed to freeze in time around the three. If he could, Tommy would have frozen time back then, when things were simpler.

Green had taken him back to his personal ship and given him the traditional title 'Pearl' before leaving to take care of Diamond matters. Despite an ingrained knowledge he should wait for orders, Pearl left the room and wandered the ship, a need to explore and see the world around him overriding his pearl nature. He meandered around, running into a few Rubies and Topazes along the way. Pearl knew that the bright green clothes Gold Diamond had given him let the other gems know his place, but he himself was unsure of his purpose, aside from basic servitude.

Hours passed and Pearlstill only saw a small portion of the ship. He stumbled into a large room with a neon green throne and a projected screen before it. Sitting in the chair was none other than Green Diamond himself. Pearl felt a strange pull towards him, an urge to remain in his presence unlike with the other gems around the ship. He crept up alongside the base of the throne, unnoticed by the powerful gem sitting in it. Green occasionally summoned various Quartzes and Peridots before assigning them duties. These gems occasionally glanced at Pearl with interest, but looked away when they noticed the colors he wore.

Eventually, Green asked one of the staring gems what was so interesting. When she answered with Pearl's presence on the floor next to the throne, Green peered down over the edge of the chair. Pearl waved up from the ground with a smile, a bit embarrassed at being caught but otherwise unperturbed. "Leave us." Green commanded the Aquamarine. The moment the two were alone, Green picked Pearl up by his collar. "I thought I left you in my chambers."

"Well yeah, but it was boring in there. Didn't know Diamonds know shit about interior design." Pearlshot back.

Green was silent for a moment before he released a sharp wheezing noise. Pearl startled, concerned he had actually caused some damage with his words, but realized quickly the high pitched whistling was only Green's laughter. As his laughter petered out, Green set Pearl down on the armrest of his chair, "It's been a while since I've laughed that hard." His smiling mask seemed to shine with an extra light. From that moment on, Pearl was never far from Green's side. He cracked jokes, mocked other gems (including Green sometimes), and handled simple tasks for his Diamond. In return, Green kept Pearl around him at all times. They were together on the ship, at planets when Green checked on his colonies, and even in meetings with the other Diamonds, though he had to hide in Green's pocket. Green picked a name for him: Tommy, and received a name in kind: Dream. All things considered, serving Green Diamond was a pretty good deal.

At least, it was until the revolt on Esempi.

It was just another visit to another one of Green's colonies, almost a century into Tommy's service. They had just touched down and Tommy was riding on Dream's shoulder just like normal when a shrieking whistle pierced through the air. A few of the Rubies in Dream's guard collapsed to the ground and their bodies disappeared, leaving only their gems behind. Tommy shook with the effort of keeping his light form intact, and he could tell even Dream was struggling a bit. They quickly found the source of the shriek and destroyed it, gathering all the gems responsible before Green Diamond for judgement.

"What did you hope to gain from this?" He asked.

"Freedom from your oppression!" Responded a bold Titanite.

"Well you can have it." Dream's mask glinted in the light of the planet's sun. Tommy stared up at his Diamond, confused as he pulled a long strand of neon green light from thin air. Dream flicked his wrist and the string whipped through the forms of every single revolting gem.

All of them, except the Titanite.

The yellow gem managed to dodge the attack in time to see his bretheren fall. His eyes filled with rage as he pulled a bow from the gem in his forehead. He pulled back on the string and aimed for Dream before letting loose a glowing yellow bolt directed at Tommy. The pearl barely had a moment to think before his gem, right in the middle of his chest, was struck. He toppled backwards, falling for the ground before being caught by two Aquamarines. Dream grabbed the Titanite and squeezed him to the point of his body dissipating, and even cracking his gem. Dream called his gems to his ship and took Tommy from the Aquamarines.

In the medical bay, Tommy received treatment for a small fracture in his gem. Easily fixed, but still painful. During the entire process, Dream was strangely distant, watching Tommy with enough neutrality that even he couldn't figure out what the Diamond was thinking. By the time he was completely healed, Dream had reverted back to his initial treatment of his pearl. Tommy trailed after him every day, but no longer did he sit on the Diamond's shoulder, no longer was he given the privilege of joining the Diamond in meetings, no longer did he elicit that wheeze of a laugh from the Diamond that he loved so much.

But a few months later and Dream finally looked at him. He stopped in the middle of a corridor and stared down at the Pearl, "Why won't you leave?!"

"What?" Tommy didn't understand.

"I've been ignoring you for months, why are you still following me?"

The Pearl was quick to respond, "Because I feel like it you prick." Dream had nothing else to say.

The very next day, after finishing a meeting with Gold Diamond and Blue Diamond Dream picked Tommy up for the first time since the incident on Esempi. He carried the Pearl through the halls of the ship without an entourage. They traveled to a large room that reached far above the Diamond's head, a size Tommy had yet to see until this point. Various weapons lined one wall and platforms of various size, height, and constructions littered the room. Next to the door was a panel with colorful buttons and a milky white quartz. Dream set Tommy down on the ground and tilted his head towards the quartz, who quickly saluted and left the room. Dream turned to his Pearl and started to shrink to his eye level.

Tommy was surprised to see the mask shrink along with the Diamond, and was even more surprised when Dream pulled a bright green axe from his gem. "Draw your weapon." He commanded. Tommy raised a hand to his Pearl and pulled, imagining a tool that would serve his Diamond. He felt something brush against his hand and his gem lit up as a red and white axe emerged from his chest. Tommy stared in awe at the weapon for a few moments before Dream's voice broke him out, "Let's start." Green Diamond walked to the panel and pressed a few buttons, producing several training dummies from the floor.

And so Tommy's training began.

The slow, arduous process was brutal. More days than not, Tommy would end up with a damaged form that required a trip into his gem to heal. Every day after Dream had completed a certain number of meetings they would return to the training room and spar, the Diamond teaching the Pearl how to wield his axe and how to avoid attacks from foreign gems. It wasn't all bad, there were moments where Dream would step back and voice his approval whenever Tommy proved especially evasive or aggressive. But every time Tommy received a severe injury requiring an end to the day's session, Dream would stop and stare, his mask hiding whatever thoughts running through his mind.

He was certainly stronger for all the training, Tommy couldn't deny this. Nor would he, his Diamond clearly cared for him, why else would he take the time to make sure Tommy could defend himself. Still, he wasn't permitted to sit on Dream's shoulder, though he was once again brought to meetings with the Diamonds. In public, Dream would act as thought Tommy had been reduced to his assistant, as all other Pearls were. When they were alone, however, be it in the training room or their chambers, or even Dream's command room on occasion, the Diamond would hold the Pearl close to his gem. Sometimes he held Tommy a bit too tight and the smaller gem was reminded that his Diamond could crush him at any moment. The injuries during training eventually grew in frequency and damage. Until it finally came to a head at the end of one session.

Dream always took care to avoid Tommy's gem, just as Tommy avoided Dream's. But this time, when Tommy ducked he wasn't quite fast enough to avoid the bit of the Diamond's axe. The sharp blade cut straight to the heart of Tommy's Pearl, destroying his light form and knocking the gem across the room. Green Diamond dropped his weapon and ran to it, holding the smooth stone in his shaking hands. That was how his attendants found him, begging Tommy to come back out, telling the gem it was only a small nick and that he would be fine. The Aquamarine guided Dream, refusing to release the damaged Pearl, to the medical bay where they placed the gem on a soft pillow. The Moonstone inside looked over the damaged Pearl and shook her head apologetically.

Every day after that, Dream would go to the medical bay before and after his duties and spend time talking to the gem. Sometimes he would mention events of the day, sometimes he would scream at the gem for being so soft, but most often he would beg Tommy to come back. Green Diamond went to The Reef and ordered the attendants to fix his Pearl but to no avail. The gem was cut to the core, leaving him nothing more than a decoration. They offered replacement Pearls, but Green Diamond refused them all, only wanting the return of his Tommy.

Green Diamond ordered his Peridots, Agates, and Sapphires to research gem reconstruction and spent the majority of his time assisting them. Gold, Blue, and Red Diamond all worried for him, offering time away and various projects and more gems to distract him from the loss of his Pearl, though he took none of them. A year passed, and Green Diamond began carrying his Pearl in a locket worn around his neck at all times.

Then he received a message: his team had found a solution.

Green Diamond left the meeting of the Diamonds in an instant, heading for the research compound where his Peridots, Agates, and Sapphires had worked tirelessly. He opened his locket and carefully laid the damaged gem on the operating table, watching his researchers for any hint of failure. The gems poured fluids and powders and shone lights on the Pearl, eventually filling the crevice with a neon green streak the color of Green's own gem. The gems explained that the Pearl would need time to readjust and reform, but the procedure had been successful.

So Dream waited. He waited days, weeks, and then a month passed by. Time felt slow, as though it were a sludging mud instead of a clean stream. But the waiting paid off the moment Tommy reformed around his gem. He was different, with a white streak in his normally golden hair, and his blue eyes had cracks of neon green through them, but he was alive. Dream shrunk down and embraced his Pearl, unwilling to risk crushing him in his hands as he had imagined so many times a year ago. Tommy did not embrace him back, however. His eyes darted around the room and his form shook endlessly. Dream didn't care though, he had his Pearl back.

And he wouldn't lose him again.

-Butterfly Anon Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

It has been a hot minute since I've written this much, hooo boyyyy. Ah, Primeboys my beloved, how you inspire me. This turned out to be less of a drabble and more of a full on story, my goodness. I've got a few ideas where to take the story from here, but I figured this was as good a place to end it as any.

Cast in case you didn't figure it out:

Green Diamond: Dream, Gold Diamond: Foolish, Pearl: Tommy, Titanite: Wilbur, Blue Diamond: Skeppy, Red Diamond: Badboyhalo

THIS IS SO GOOD

#Dream smp

[freckledmountain]

Lulling comfort

By @freckledmountain for @romeoandjulietyouwish

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark

Summary:

"Music had gotten an entirely new meaning after that, from Disney songs to musicals to classic rock, and everything else in between. … He´d do anything to listen to Peter sing to them again."

Or, an AU where you hear whatever your platonic soulmate sings or hums! :D

For the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Read on Ao3

Chapter 1: Change

Some-

BODY ONCE TOLD ME

the WORLD IS GONNA ROLL ME

I AIN´T THE SHARPEST TOOL IN THE sHE-ED

Peter´s endearing screech and dramatics at the starting notes startles a fond laugh out of Tony, making DUM-E beep in curious surprise.

The bot has a screwdriver in his grasp and usually Tony´d chastise him for grabbing tools without permission (he has not forgotten the last lab incident, thank you) but right now he´s much too preoccupied resisting the urge to join in the kid´s slumber party via his own singing.

God bless karaoke.

Peter had looked sheepish when he´d mentioned it to him, the little get-together his scary girlfriend and Ned had planned this weekend at the latter´s place after a ridiculously long week of exams. Tony had absolutely no problem listening to his kid´s voice in his head, but it was still sweet of Peter to ask beforehand.

“You know I work best with music anyway.” He´d said, remembering all the times he´d listened to Peter perform dramatically to songs on the radio.

Peter´d hunched his shoulders a bit, smiling. “Yeah, okay, okay, I just wanted to make sure because Ned might ask me to duet to Take on me again, and last time I sang it you were on a meeting and FRIDAY sent me that video of you mouthing the words and Ms. Potts looked like the disappointed dad from that Shawn Mendes vine- “

…even if he had no idea what the kid was talking about sometimes.

He´d gasped and placed a hand to his chest, feigning offence. “Have you forgotten the time you had Call me maybe on loopin my head for an entire day?”

“…It was a dare?”

“Hmm” he´d said, raising an eyebrow playfully as Peter dissolved into laughter. “whatever you say, bud.”

His smile softens unconsciously at the memory as he methodically tweaks a few things in his nanotech suit, still listening to Peter belt out lyrics in his head. Truth be told, he misses the kid working alongside him like usual, but he knows how important spending time with his friends is to Peter.

(The parenting books say it´s imperative too, although of course he hasn´t ever read, purchased five on a whim or fret over anything of the sort. Obviously.)

He hopes Ned and Michelle´s respective other halves don´t mind the kids crooning 80´s rock on a Friday evening, but he guesses if they´re anything like them, they probably won´t complain. Soulmates are cool like that.

He remembers all the times Rhodey had told him about his soulmate´s voice inside his own head, how he´d suddenly perk up and grin at whatever melody he could hear, how he´d start humming randomly to join in.

Tony had grown up hearing nothing but his own treacherous thoughts for the longest time, almost losing hope completely at the possibility of having a soulmate right up until adulthood. Heavy metal music blasted over his speakers constantly whenever he was busy in his workshop, but he never joined in. There were moments when he´d thought his love for singing would be soured forever, since apparently the universe or whoever was in charge didn´t have a problem leaving him without someone out there to share it with him in his head.

Thankfully, he always did have Rhodey, and boycould he kick-start the fun in singing again with his flawless Mariah Carey impressions. He´d loved the few times he´d heard Pepper sing too, and there´d even been one memorable instance where he´d surprised Happy vocalizing in an unexpectedly pleasant lilt.

Hearing Peter sing though...simply put, there was nothing else like it.

-and we could aLL use a little changeeeeeeeEEE

…Yes, nothing was quite like it.

Tony shakes his head, smiling, and grabs his phone to text May about the kid´s shenanigans. She´d been more than a little concerned when Peter and him had figured out who the other was, (that was one heck of a superhero fundraiser) but now they´ve become much closer, and Tony can genuinely say they´re friends. He´s glad to have her on his side, because May Parker is, in Peter terms, a very kind powerhouse, and not someone he´d like to mess with.

He´s about to press send when the lights in the room flash red.

Tony´s up and summoning his gauntlet attentively in a second, right as FRIDAY pulls up screens around him, showing footage of the emergency.

“What am I looking at, FRI?”

“Around 30 heavily armed machines have emerged in Midtown Manhattan, boss.” She responds, as the room fills with projections. The robots on screen are huge and ugly as heck, about the width and height of three school buses together. They´re making their way through the streets surprisingly quickly for how heavy they look. People run away, steering clear of their illuminated blasts. “They appear to be releasing high frequency blasts approximately every ten seconds. Local police have just arrived at the scene and are requesting backup, since the blasts are causing structural damage to the surrounding buildings. The source of these machines is unknown.”

“Tell the team to suit up and meet me there.”

“They have already been alerted, boss, but I´ll relay your message as well.”

The rest of his suit materializes around him, and he makes haste to get to the nearest window, half worried and half downright annoyed at whoever was behind this.

“Another one for the robot bingo card on means of world domination.” He says to himself, unimpressed. Just one week without this crap…

He soars above the sky nonetheless, blasting his way towards the fight.

Please stay put kid, he wishes, even as the singing stops.

---

Three blocks.

He´s three blocks away from where Peter is making his way back when it happens.

As big and fast as the robots are, Tony can tell they weren´t exactly made by the finest of the loons who regularly try to take over New York. Not to mention they´re absolutely appalling to look at, whoever designed these things had absolutely no taste, Tony thinks, crushing his twenty-second bot with the suit´s repulsors. It hasn´t exactly been easy, since the wretched machines have no real apparent motive but to blow up everything in their path, but within an hour it seems they´re done with the worst of it.

He can see Nat and Wanda dealing with the remains of one of the last ones below, while a little way away Cap´s talking with a few cops, scoping out the damage. Even though the air is permeated with smoke and there´s rubble in some places, there are no casualties, and they´ve thankfully emptied out the buildings that got wrecked. SHIELD will take care of the rest.

He flies over the skyscrapers, keeping an eye out for any other bots, but it seems like FRIDAY´s finished identifying all of them. He activates a private line on the comms to talk to Peter.

“Done securing the area from whatever that disastrous colour scheme was?”

He can hear Peter´s good-natured groan as his location pops up on Tony´s screen, six blocks away.

“I know, right? I can wear mismatched socks for a week and rock them no problem, but blue with like, eye-melting neon? Yikes.”

“Exactamundo. Couldn´t agree with you more, kid. But hey, it looks like you might actually be able to get back to your sleepover after all. Can´t wait to hear what alarming chorus is going to keep me up until midnight.”

“Oh you just wait, we´re doing ABBA next and it´s gonna be so-“

FRIDAY tears through the conversation with an alarm, but it´s precious seconds too late.

A gasp. An abrupt thud resounding through the comms. A scream. Peter´s.

Tony´s blood freezes in his veins.

“Peter? Peter!?”

He gets there in less than a minute and sees one of the bots with its blaster pointed at Peter, still smoking from the shot.

He obliterates it without a second thought, his mind swirling with fear and rejection at FRIDAY´s next words as he runs towards Spiderman´s crumbled figure.

“No heartbeat detected, boss”.

Chapter 2

The first time he´d ever heard Peter´s voice, he´d been running on three hours of sleep, a frankly heart-attack inducing dose of caffeine, and no motivation whatsoever to sit down with stuffy board members for five hours.

It didn´t exactly come as a surprise that for the first few milliseconds of the “Itsy bitsy spider” chant in his head he´d thought, confusingly, that it might just have been his mind finally resorting to the resurface of old nursery rhymes as a way to tell him to go the frick to sleep.

His heart however, was another matter.

As ridiculous and improbable as it sounded, a new something in his chest rose even before he knew what was happening. He might not have been a machine, but something slowly and irrevocably clicked into place the more he heard that gentle voice go on about water spouts and suns.

He´d stopped short in realization. Blinked.

And then smiled wide enough to lose himself in the mirth of it.

He´d run back to his workshop right after that, laughing like mad with the absolute mayhem of emotions coursing through his whole being, almost crashing into Pepper in the process. She´d looked back at him in concern, questions already forming in her lips, before Tony had frantically mimed at her to keep quiet, wanting to listen to the soft voice´s final notes.

Once the song finished, Tony may or may not have let out a loud shriek of sheer joy and told an increasingly delighted Pepper all about it, practically bursting with excitement.

“Pep! Wait, what do I do now!? Do I- Do I sing it back to him? Do I sing another- crap I don´t even know any children´s songs, JARVIS, JARVIS!”

In the end he´d had to phone Rhodey to yell the news ecstatically to him, because he´d just found maybe the universe hadn´t wanted to screw him over after all, and he felt like screaming it from the rooftops. The little voice was sweet and shy and boyish and happy, and about the best thing Tony had heard in his damn life. He couldn´t have contained himself if he´d tried, and heck if he was going to any time soon.

(“Tones, what- “

“Rhodey!”

“…was that you or a screech owl.”

“It happened! There´s- a little kid! Somewhere! Spiders! My soulmate!”

“The- wait what-? “)

Music had gotten an entirely new meaning after that, from Disney songs to musicals to classic rock, and everything else in between.

…

He´d do anything to listen to Peter sing to them again.

Burning.

He´s burning all over.

Screaming in pain, he tries to escape from the scorching heat, but it´s everywhere, it´s everything, he´s the pain, he´s the fire, everything hurts-

And then as soon as it appears, the pain is gone.

He opens his eyes, blinking woozily.

“Oh, thank God.”

His vision blurs all over for a minute. There´s dampness in the corners, left over from tears.

Tears?

He makes an attempt to sit up, but there´s a hand holding his shoulder gently. He blinks again.

Tries to decipher his surroundings.

He´s laying down in a mostly deserted, grubby looking street. A figure kneels close to him, some sort of red and gold robot type thing. He narrows his eyes at it, trying to figure out why it feels so familiar…but finds, to a detached kind of surprise, that he can´t.

He has no idea what happened.

The robot seems to be very relieved for some reason, just staring up at the sky for a couple of seconds, taking a deep, wheezy breath.

Even with his head feeling like wet cotton, he looks at him with concern. The robot sounds seconds away from fainting. Is he…alright?

When the robot´s face opens and a man´s head peeps out (cool!), he almost jumps back in surprise.

And then…

Well. He still doesn´t have a clue who this person is, but as soon as he sees the man´s expression of utter joy and relief, something inside him settles. Safe.

He blinks in confusion at the feeling. He knows this person. He does.

But who is he?

“Pete? You´re back bud. Do you feel okay?” The man´s (man? robot? man-robot? cyborg? figment of his imagination?) smile fades slightly, looking at him in worry. “FRIDAY” Friday? Who on earth is he talking to? “didn´t you say the CPR made his vitals-“

“I´m- I´m fine” he says, because enormous confusion aside, he is. Maybe his head is scrambled, and he feels exhausted, but he has a feeling he´s been in worse shape before.

A feeling.

The man (he´s decided on man) starts going on about robots, and getting him to a tower with someone called Dr. Cho, but all he can do is blink back, his confusion increasing.

“I´m really sorry” he interrupts, knowing he´s probably going to disappoint the man, but needing to push forward even so, “who- who are you? Are you-? “

He tries to put a word on the feeling seeing the man´s face had evoked in him before, tries to remember who he is or what he has to do with the man or why he feels so…safe. So safe. With him there, even with all the questions going round and round inside his head.

“Are you my dad?”

The man´s face stills. For a second, it looks like his brain short-circuits.

Mood, a thought rings out in his head, unbidden.

That´s when he hears it.

A huge metallic…thing coming through the street towards them, and he doesn´t know why but it makes his heart thump like a rabbit´s in a cage, and suddenly he gets a flash of remembering pain, and he knows these machines, these machines are dangerous, and what if the man gets hurt too-

He pushes the man behind him as he desperately tries to look for somewhere they can hide-

-but the man grabs his hand first and hurries them both towards the sturdiest-looking car on the street, crouching so they´re out of sight.

“Uh, alright. I- this must be really weird for you, but it´ll be okay. Just stay here for now, ´kay? I´ll- We´ll figure this out. You with me?” The man holds his gaze for a second, and it´s so sincere, he finds himself nodding.

The man smiles. “Okay. Give me a sec.” And then he gets up and turns towards the robot.

What the-what´s he doing!?

He reaches out clumsily to drag him back, but the man´s face gets obscured by his robot mask once more and he…

Flies?

The frick? He thinks in bewilderment, as he sees the man lift off and attack the robot with blasts coming from his hands. My maybe-dad can fly!?

Either he lives in a sci-fi novel, or he´s going absolutely nuts.

Could be both at this point, frankly.

The whiz of gold and red fighting the robot is almost quicker than his sight can keep up with, but he persists, looking out anxiously for any opening the robot might have to take the man down so he can try to warn him about it. There is none though, the robot might be exceedingly fast, but the man remains unyielding. He takes another look at the giant machine and sees it´s blaster-

And then it´s like someone takes his brain and shakes it around everywhere, and the throbbing is so sudden he kneels and clutches his head tightly to keep it from falling apart. His thoughts feel shattered and tampered with, and the pain-

He cries out in agony, and tears fill his eyes again.

The man! I have to look out for him!

He tries to listen to the fight again, but just as he tries to focus in on it it´s like a tsunami of yells and police sirens and voices washes over him, and noise, why is there so much noise-

Overwhelmed, he kneels until his forehead touches the grainy concrete, and wishes he would just pass out.

He doesn´t, though.

Among the oversaturated ocean of noise, one adds to the mix.

Except this one isn´t grating. This one doesn´t make everything seem like too much.

Because it feels like it´s coming from within himself.

He´s at a loss for what´s happening, but the voice slowly and lightly blocks out all the other noise, grounding him in a gentle tune. In a flash, he recognizes the song. He knows where he heard it last.

Mr Stark.

And he remembers.

“Kid? What are you doing up?”

He shrugs, sinking deeper into the couch cushions. Baby Tarzan laughs onscreen.

He half expects Mr Stark to push him for more details, but he seems to understand Peter´s not in a talking mood and walks up to him solemnly.

“Scoot.”

He does, and Mr Stark plops down next to him, wordlessly extending his arms out in invitation. Peter falls into the hug gratefully and sighs. Exhaustion pulls down on his bones, but he´d rather not get back to the nightmare he woke up from. Mr Stark snorts softly at something in the movie, and then they both jump a bit at the sudden loud gorilla roar. They keep watching the movie, and Peter´s curls are brushed back gently in a soothing motion.

He wants to sleep. But he can´t.

But he´s safe here, isn´t he?

His chest grows heavier as he thinks of the dream, and when he blinks, his eyelids dampen. He hasn´t shed a tear yet, but Mr Stark must sense something again because his hand at Peter´s hair stills.

And then he starts singing.

It´s a lulling comfort, and Peter melts into the embrace, allowing his tired eyes some rest.

He´s safe.

Come stop your crying

It will be alright

Just take my hand

Hold it tight

I will protect you

From all around you

I will be here

Don't you cry

He´s safe.

With a final shot from Iron man´s repulsors, the robot powers down, and Peter runs out to meet Mr Stark, almost crushing his ribs in a hug.

“Woah, woah!” The helmet´s visor pulls up, revealing a grinning Tony. “Did that actually work? FRIDAY told me you were freaking out and I thought it might help calm you down.” He says, hugging him back. “But it did more than that, didn´t it?”

Peter´s too relieved to do anything but nod happily into his shoulder, but he gets the point across.

They stay there for a full minute, just holding on to each other. Until Tony grumbles out a “and I can´t believe you remembered Phil Collins before Iron man, seriously.” and Peter bursts out laughing, lightening the mood.

“The man didn´t sing that soundtrack in five languages for nothing, Mr Stark. It slaps.”

Tony hides his smile in Peter´s curls, and hugs him close.

#Writing #The friendly neighborhood exchange #WHOOO #irondad and spiderson #I love them #platonic soulmates

[sugarmaplewings-fics]

Partners

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Warnings: None

A/N: 

Okay, so this one has a lot behind it. Technically, this is the first request I ever received (I’d say I got this one around late July?). It was 100% my intent to do all three characters, and it still is, but I got caught up in Bakugou’s and kind of konked on the other two. Also I realized how fricking long this was and thought it would be weird to have as a headcanon-y format.

I spent way too much time strategizing this (I remember literally laying in bed from like 2-4 AM rewatching episodes to get Bakugou’s fighting technique down and taking notes while also thinking about my new OC, who debuts here), but I honestly had the most fun writing this??? Like, I was high key using my brain for this and it was fun. Anyway, I hope it didn’t come out too cringey. If you want to talk to me about my OC, please please please come in my inbox, I am so happy to see you there!

I will finish this request! Sometime! When motivation re-strikes me! I’m about half-way done with Kirishima’s and I have a solid idea for Amajiki’s (different quirks).

I really hope you like this! This was new and experimental for me, and I’m pretty happy with how it turned out!

-Sugar

The class of 1-A stood in a small grouping, facing their teacher, All Might. They were preparing to begin their hero training for the day, anticipating for when the instructor would receive the go-ahead to begin class. Finally, All Might tapped a finger to the piece in his ear, a person on the other end offering confirmation that the grounds were ready.

"All right, young boys and girls," he said. "Today, we're doing some sparring practice in pairs. You will be graded on your tactic and skill."

He began to go over the general rules, which were the same as always; quirks are completely allowed, nothing dirty, he would interfere if he thought necessary. The objective was much like the sports festival where you needed to either immobilize your partner or push them out of bounds, yadda dadda da.

When he finally began listing off teams, you eagerly listened for your own last name to be read off his sheet.

"—Tokoyami and Shouji, (L/N) and Bakugou, Midoriya and—"

There it was! Your name! And a certain someone else's . . . .

Your eyes flicked around your assembled class, easily locating the blond spikes haphazardly sprouting from his head.

If it wasn't your sweet rival, Bakugou Katsuki.

The two of you were at the top of the class, constantly bumping heads on everything from test scores to hero training.

Oh, this is going to be good . . . .

You'd never fought one on one with quirks with each other before, and you already anticipated getting to know how your respective powers might clash. It wasn't as though the thought hadn't crossed your mind before—quite the opposite, in fact.

You felt considerably prepared for your mini battle with how much you'd watched him over the past months; learning his moves, how he thought, anything from what drove him forward to things that made him tick. You'd caught glimpses of Midoriya's hero notebook where he had information on all his classmates, and a part of you cockily doubted that you would even need something like that when it came to how well you knew your rival by now.

Nevertheless, you began to plot out strategies and stretch while you waited your turn, scenarios playing out in your head as you attempted to plan for any move he could try to pull against you.

Your quirk was called Panic. You could affect the fear response in someone's brain with high frequencies. Your signature attacks came from long, loud screams to make someone wet their pants, but you were also perfectly capable of making odd squeaky noises for a tasty sense of looming uneasiness in your opponent. You had learned some combat techniques, but for the most part you did better at long range; trying to immobilize the enemy enough to swoop in unexpected and secure them.

No one was wearing their hero costume, only in their gym uniforms. This would provide a slight disadvantage to you because you didn't have your directional speaker, but it wasn't the most necessary support item. You could function well enough without it.

Every now and then, you'd be knocked out of your meticulous scheming to watch some of your fellow classmates spar. There were a few pairs going at one time, but you were placed in one of the last sets, so you had the advantage of time to strategize. Eventually, however, you were called into one of the training rings, straightening and confidently adjusting your blue and white jacket.

You met Bakugou's fiery red eyes from across the way, teasingly waving at him and smirking. His gaze darted away from yours, stubbornly deciding to glue itself to the floor.

He wouldn't go easy on you. In fact, quite the contrary. You knew he'd give you everything he had and more, and you were more than prepared to do the same for him.

In a matter of minutes, your feet were planted in the loosely packed dirt of the training ring, several meters away from where Bakugou stood across from you, stretching out his arms. Your heart pounded in your chest as you waited for the signal to go, scraping the most important points you'd worked out earlier to the front of your brain.

After what felt like forever, the siren blared in your ears, causing you to tense, ready to begin your round with your explosive rival.

You shot towards him, wanting to get as close as possible. You expected he might try to stay away, keeping a distance so your quirk wouldn't affect him so much. Instead, he stood his ground, holding out his palms to you as you approached. Internally, you faltered, wondering what he was planning to do.

Nevertheless, you kept running forward, getting as close as you dared before drawing in a breath to scream and release your power. You noticed Bakugou flinch as sound began to leak from your throat, but he quickly fired off an explosion in your direction, drowning out the sound.

Of course! You internally smacked yourself. You relied on him being able to hear your screams in order for your quirk to affect him. He would have to use his explosions to drown out the sound.

Your mind began to spin, trying to formulate a new plan, when he began making an advance on you. Loud, crackling explosions danced off his hands, not horribly powerful, but boy, were they loud. You cringed at them, resisting the urge to cover your own ears to protect yourself from the noise. He kept coming closer, heat and smoke flickering over your face, causing you to take a step back, then another.

So that's his plan, you thought, taking another step in the direction of the boundary lines. He knows he can't really fight hand-to-hand, and there's no way either of us are going to admit defeat, so he's trying to push me out.

Your objective was to either knock him unconscious or chase him out of bounds, but this could be used to your favor if you timed it correctly.

Quirks are physical abilities too, you remembered hearing Midoriya say. Even Kacchan has his limits.

Push him to his limits. That's what you had to do.

You let him fire off blast after blast, keeping as far out of his reach as you could while leading him around the arena. He didn't have much choice but to keep going. If he stopped, you would be able to use your quirk on him, and you had a good chance of winning with one as powerful as yours. He simply had to keep a clear head and try to push you further towards the white boundary lines. Every now and then, he would lunge forward, trying to grab at you, and you would shriek at him, smirking as a moment of panic flashed across his face when the piercing noise slipped into his ears. This also served to make him all the angrier, lips curling into a snarl at your dominion over his emotions.

You made sure to keep your distance. You weren't wearing your hero costume, which would have helped in the sense that he wouldn't have been able to grab your mouth from under the directional speaker you wore over your mask, but you were grateful you didn't have to deal with his gauntlets.

You didn't like that he kept moving, and a small part of you was almost certain your fear and anxiety-inducing quirk would make his palms sweat even more, but there wasn't more you could pull against him. You just had to keep going until one of you exhausted yourself.

The smoke wasn't helping you. It scratched at your throat and stung your eyes. The scent of burning sugar filled the air, and you wondered how much more the both of you could take.

There it was, a wince from behind one of the black clouds, a falter in one of the fiery blasts. He was growing tired, but you knew from his expression of blank determination he wouldn't stop no matter what toll it took on his body. Anything for him to win, but you were the same way. Though he'd been focusing on the sound levels of his quirk rather than the force of each blow, it had still been taxing, and you knew that now was your chance.

The whole time, you'd been on the defensive, trying to save your voice and keep out of the way until this very moment, but now was the time of offense. You began to work the two of you over to the boundary lines, hoping to lull Bakugou into a false sense of security that he was getting you where he wanted.

Without warning, you leapt forward, going in to knock his feet from under him. If you got him on the ground, it would be easier for you to secure his hands and grab his head, which would ensure the win for you.

He snarled and leapt back. His reflexes were phenomenal, but in his moment of defense, he dropped from using his quirk. Bingo.

A deafening sliver of silence followed his motion, which you quickly filled with a piercing scream, one of the loudest you could muster.

His eyes widened and he stumbled, another explosion firing off as a flash of fear coursed through his body. You went for his feet again, and this time you wouldn't let up, pulsing high-pitched shriek after shriek to keep him on edge. He tried to keep on his toes, swinging at you almost blindly as you darted forward and dodged.

You'd learned that if you didn't do it enough, the fear and adrenaline of your enemy could work against you, heightening their senses and reflexes, and if you did it too much, your opponent might get used to your effect. Now, however, you knew to work quickly, forcing your influence into his head until he would struggle to think clearly, landing a good blow to his knees.

He crumpled forward, and you straddled yourself on top of him easily, taking his hands in one of yours behind his back and using the other to clutch at the base of his neck. You could feel his heart pounding underneath you, see his eyes rolling in his skull. The thought crossed your mind to pity him.

You loved your quirk, occasionally delighting in how easy it was to assert a certain amount of control over people. But you weren't a monster, and the idea of needlessly terrifying your classmates brought a curl to your lip in distaste. But this was your rival, Bakugou Katsuki. Maybe he deserved to be put in his place. Just a little.

You leaned forward and put your lips to his ear, letting out a final, high-frequency hum directly into his canal. You felt him seize up beneath you, hearing how his breathing changed as he tried to suck in breaths to calm himself. You wouldn't let up, however, and before long, you felt him go limp under your belly.

You stood after making sure he had slipped from consciousness, pride filling your chest. You'd done it. You'd won out over your rival.

You looked around and made eye contact with Cementoss, who had been monitoring your half of the fighting rings. He nodded at you approvingly and advanced to take Bakugou out of the ring.

You flounced back to the room where your classmates had been watching the sparring matches, allowing yourself to relish in the way everyone's eyes turned towards you.

"(L/N) shojo," All Might said. "Excellent job."

The silence of the class was cleared and everyone who was still in the room surged forward to congratulate you.

"You beat Bakugou!"

"That was amazing!"

"You really did it!"

Once everyone had settled, you excused yourself to go to the locker rooms.

On your way, you ran into Bakugou, who had since woken up from the little nap you'd forced him into.

"Oi, Bakugou," you said, the sound of your voice causing his blond head to whip around. You approached him and stuck out a hand. "Good match."

He glared at your hand and smacked it away. Why did his reaction kind of . . . hurt?

"Shut up!" he yelled. "Next time, you won't—you won't beat me so easily, mouse." He nearly choked when he had to admit that you had won against him.

"Still calling me a mouse?" you asked, tilting your head and smirking.

"You still squeak like one," he grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Don't think I'm done with you. You might have won today, but don't get used to it."

"Oh, I think I just might," you said cockily, breezing past him to slip into the girls' locker room door.

Bakugou growled at your disappearing back. What the hell was wrong with you? More importantly, what the hell was wrong with him?

He gripped at the back of his neck where you'd grabbed him, shivering at the memory of the sensation of your lips to his ear.

He had to snap out of it. You were his enemy. The only place you should have in his mind were in thoughts of how to overcome you, how to pound you into the ground until he came out on top above you.

And yet you wouldn't leave his head, and he found his eyes chasing your form nearly every day he saw you.

Bakugou snarled to himself, snapping him out of these thoughts and pushing himself from the locker room entrances. He would find a way to beat you. He wouldn't stop until he figured out a way to do it.

He wouldn't rest until he sorted out these feelings too, whatever they were.

Bakugou's black boots clicked on the floor as he exited the building. This was only the beginning of your saga together, and the two of you refused to enter passively.

*✲ﾟ*｡⋆♡⁎*✲ﾟ*｡⋆♡

Taglist: @basicaegyo​ @iiminibattlehero​ @katsugay​ @nabo39​ @pyrofanatic​​ @sendhelpimstupid​ @sokkasangel​ @xoxopam4​​

#imma post this and run away #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou bnha #katsuki bakugou bnha #bakugou katsuki bnha #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki imagine #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha x reader #mha x reader #reader insert #request fulfilled #sugar fics

[that-damn-girl]

(5) Bucky and The Bed

Completed

Chapter 4

Bucky and The Bed Masterlist 

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (cis)fem!reader

Words:  3700+

Summery: You and Bucky are stranded in the middle of a snowy nowhere when there is an 'electronic blackout' during your mission. With no back ups or any way to contact your team, you take refuge from the worsening weather in the only cabin you find  in miles. Not to mention, with no power, Bucky has become your personal heater and there's only one bed.

Chapter type: Fluff.

Chapter/Triger warning: None that I can think of except for ‘highly self-indulgent’.

A/N: This is in submission to the lovely @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​ ‘s Any-Fucking-Fandom Fic Challenge. Check it out! My prompt is below.

Calloused fingertips ran slowly through your hair, absent-mindedly drawing varied patterns with gentle prolonged strokes. Eyes closed, you basked in the alleviating motion. The faint pressure of his tips combing through your scalp lulled you into a deep state of relaxation. Not that you'd been stressed before, but you welcomed the calming drift with open arms.

Head perched on Bucky's lap, you laid comfortably along the width of the bed on your back. The headboard of the bed supported Bucky's back as his legs were stretched, ankles crossed.

Flesh hand racking through your locks, his metal one was encompassed in the heat of your hold. It felt cool to touch, much cooler than the rest of him, but it had a certain aura of warmth. Languidly, you traced the smooth plates making up his palm and fingers and the back of his hand, committing every cranny, every nook to memory.

Your tips climbed up and down the dips of his knuckles, rounding the impeccably curved tips now and then. They seemed crafted as well as the natural human ones. With the whole of his metal arm being that way, you didn't know why you were so amazed by the uncanny resemblance.

Sweeping over the sleek black and gold plates over and over again, mapping the blend of contours and arcs, you said, "Never did I ever think I'd be tired of being uselessly free."

From studying the simple joints of wood panels on the ceiling, Bucky's eyes drifted down to you when you spoke, trailing over your delicate features and then again. Just because. He never thought he'd ever get tired of admiring your beauty anyways.

Eyelids shut, you looked content and yet dejected as your head rested on his lap. He knew you felt bored, hence the look of dejection maybe. He only hoped his presence was the cause of the slight contentment you felt.

It had been a couple of days since Bucky was able to contact Sam; three since they took refuge in this small cabin. There really was nothing to do except for eat, sleep, and repeat.

Chuckling, Bucky said, "It kinda reminds me of the time in Wakanda."

Opening your eyes and slightly craning your neck, you glanced at him. Though he looked at you, his eyes held a faraway gaze, as if having found a distant memory and reminiscing in it. Closing your eyes, you settled in more comfortably. You loved hearing stories about his experience in the astounding African country.

"Tell me about it."

Though you couldn't see him, you knew he wore a bright smile as he remembered the days. You interlaced your fingers with his metal fingers as his flesh ones occasionally twirled a few locks of your hair.

This was new, the touching at every moment, only for more to be followed in the next. Bucky Barnes was a reserved man. He did want a soft and comforting touch, but there weren't many people to give him that.

Steve, yes. Sam, sometimes. It wasn't as if he was open to letting others touch him either. He sought out the familiarity in the amiable contact, the assurance of no ill content behind it.

The past decade had taught him to believe a touch only meant one thing. Pain.

You had been with him as long as Sam had, but he was only able to open up to you in the recent few years. He had become comfortable with you. Didn't have any qualms about feeling your skin on him.

But there was always a limit. There was always a limit to how much he'd let someone in.

In the past few days, however,  you and him seemed to literally keep in touch at all times of the day. Asleep or awake. It happened involuntarily, really. As if your hearts made decisions of their own, claiming what they desired.

Bucky had noticed that and so did you, but neither dared to comment on it. Afraid of making the other more conscious. Of losing the closeness it had brought along. Of losing the joy it brought to your hearts with just a touch.

Bucky tried to convince himself that it was because you needed it, the warmth the super soldier serum provided him. But what was the explanation of the warmth you gave him, without any enhancements?

You needed him, but he was no longer able to deny that he needed the feel of your touch much more desperately. He needed it every second of the day since he'd had a taste of it. A taste of what it felt like to be around you at all times. A taste of heaven which you brought to him.

From every fortunate moment he woke up with you in his arms to sleep in the same way, he'd cherished it deeply. He loved cuddling with you and being cozy. Whether you cooked, or ate, or just were together, you'd always found a way to touch each other.

Your touch had become familiar to him in such a soothing way; he'd been accustomed to it so well, he didn't even want to imagine how being without it would feel like once you'd return.

But he didn't want to burden the pleasant moment by worrying about the future. Choosing to savour it as long as he could, he clutched your hand protectively in his as your fingers linked. Warmth spread across his metal arm and it tickled as the heat made its way through his heart.

Sighing contentedly, he began, "After Shuri was able to get the effect of the words out of me, I was free to live outside the palace and with the crowd. I'd go to therapy daily at first, but the frequency decreased eventually.

"My only purpose there was to recover, to relax, so I didn't really have anything productive to do. The children would play with me and braid my hair, but there's only so much of that which could be done.

"I felt so useless there, I begged T'Challa to give me some work." He paused, laughing before he continued, "I remember the look Okoye gave me. She thought I was a dumb old bitch. Wanting to work when free time was gifted to me on a gold platter."

Bucky looked down at you when you chuckled. A beautiful smile graced your face, lightening up the glow already there. His pride swelled up a little, knowing and liking the fact that he could make you smile.

Beaming widely, he added, "I did the work they already had machines for. Loading and unloading. Carrying things from one place to the other. Just helping anyway I could, even if they didn't require it." He sighed, "Maybe I really was a dumb old bitch."

Chuckling again, you tried to imagine as you said, "Ah, city boy turned farm boy. What a sight it would have been."

"Picture oily, greasy hair, and mud ridden clothes. That's how it was like." He said.

Opening your eyes, you cheekily grinned at him, "I bet you still looked damn good, Bucky."

Feeling colour rising to his cheeks, he was sure he would've stuttered had he spoken anything. You saved him from that, "I've always wondered if the serum prevented you from being ticklish."

"Why?" The word wasn't even out of his mouth when your fingers teased the sides of his torso. The furrow of his brows instantly morphed into a merry stance as he snickered.

"Stop," He wheezed when you sat up and tickled him with all your might. Hands roamed over all the tickle inducing spots you could reach.

"Y/N, wait," His eyes crinkled as he laughed. Seeing him squirm under you, you giggled along with him, enjoying the elated mirth on his face.

Pleading requests reached your ears between huffs of gleeful laughter. His hands tried to reach yours, swiftly shifted out of his reach. Not for long though.

Soon the tables were turned. His hands caught up to you. When he started tickling your spots, you tried to shrunk into a ball.

"Bucky!" You cried, eyes closing as you laughed joyfully.

"Nuh uh, doll, you brought this on yourself." Snickering along, Bucky said mischievously as his hands lightly stroked your sides and under your chin.

You wiggled under him, but he didn't let you escape. His fingers danced along your body. You shrieked with mirthful laughter when he reached a particular spot.

Your arms thrashed about as you tried to stop him. Bucky caged your hand in his when they hit his chest. Laughing still, he placed them by your head bent over you.

Giggling softly, you slowly opened your eyes as you calmed down from the high. You saw Bucky holding you down, a light chuckle playing on his lips. Suddenly you realised how really close he was.

Long dark locks framed his features as he leaned over you. His scruff had grown in the few days you were here. You decided you quite liked the look on him.

You wondered if he was open to the idea of growing his beard again. Bearded Bucky was a spectacular look after all.

Delight was clear in his expression as his blue eyes stared into your own. Upon such close inspection, you realised there was a bit of greyish touch to his eyes. Almost as if they could be called ocean grey.

How many before you had realised it? Or if it was your mind making you see things because it was clouded with the fact of your close proximity?

Bucky's lips were plump and pink. They seemed much more bright and colourful against his pale skin in the extreme cold. Did his lips look this rosy before?

Bucky saw your eyes drifting across his face as a realization struck them. Your smile faded slowly but the dazzle in your made up for it as they took in every feature. When your eyes dropped to his lips, they stayed there for a while.

He couldn't help but glance down at your lips. Slightly parted, they looked so soft. He wondered how sweet they tasted. Overcome by an urge to kiss you deeply and find out for himself, he looked at your eyes and back down at your lips.

It was only then that he realised how close he'd gotten to you. His breath hitched at that moment. He became nervous all of a sudden.

Yes, you two had been close ever since this fiasco started, but never like this. This was new to the both of you.

Something must have given him away, because he felt you stiffen under him. You too had realised close proximity.

He was worried you'd pull away. Not that you could with bed beneath you, but you could always turn your head sideways. You didn't. Instead, your lips only parted a little more.

Only inches apart, he could feel everytime you exhaled. His heart raced with the possibilities of every outcome if he leaned down just a little more. How it could turn out, just like he'd dreamed about it. How he could finally have you as his.

And then the negative outcomes swarmed his brain. What if he was reading all the signs wrong? Granted he was an expert in body language, yet he wasn't a mind reader.

If he did close the gap but you didn't want it to happen, he could lose a good friend to awkwardness. There were also days to be cut until either of you would separate from each other.

The tension would be unbearable if you rejected his advances. He couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let any of that happen at all.

Bucky Barnes was a fucking coward and so were you.

Reluctantly, he pulled back. You didn't want him to, but you didn't stop him either. Freeing your hands, he sat on his knees beside you. Leaning on the heel of your palms, you sat up too.

Bucky couldn't meet your eyes as he looked down at his lap. You were much the same beside him.

The tension was so thick you swore it could be cut with a knife. Bucky didn't want to make things awkward, but it had already gotten so.

After spending a pleasant time together, you didn't want anything to become a thorn between the two of you. Without thinking, you quickly spoke, "Let's dance."

Bucky furrowed his brows, confusion overtaking his expression, "You wanna dance?"

"Yeah, let's." You shrugged, "It's not like we got anything better to do."

Bucky opened his mouth but closed it when nothing came to his mind. If you were trying to steer the two of you away from the unwanted tension, you were definitely succeeding. There was just one problem though. "I don't remember how to dance."

"It's okay. It's not like I'm Micheal Jackson either." Bucky was glad the reference wasn't lost on him. The spider kid was doing a good job updating him with all the highlights of the past century he'd missed.

Getting off the bed, you extended an arm towards him. Figuring just rolling with your idea would be easier than acknowledging the moment earlier, he followed you suit.

As he stepped in front of your form, you were unsure where to place your hands. Keeping some distance, you kept arms on his shoulder and linked your fingers behind his head. He brought his hands to your sides, holding you loosely.

You were close but not like before. He seemed to be fine with it and so were you.

You started with shifting your weight on either of your legs, proceeding to sway your body gradually from side to side and moving about in the small space of the room. He directed his body along with yours, going at it with the pace you set.

"There is no music, you know." He remarked.

You pretend to give it thought, "I would be all poetic and say the birds are chirping and that's music enough, but the thing is there are no birds around. Or any living things for that matter."

Bucky scrunched up his nose, "Sounds a little creepy, doesn't it?"

You nodded, "Yeah. Why don't you sing?"

"Uh, no. I don't want your ears to bleed." He chuckled.

You tilted your head, "Come on, you can't be that bad."

"Well, I am that bad. Deal with it." He said

You rolled your eyes comically at him, "Fine."

He raised a brow, "Why don't you sing?"

Not wanting to disclose your singing abilities to him, or rather the lack of it, you said, "Oh, just shut up and dance with me."

Snickering, he replied, "As you say, Ma'am."

Bringing your hands down to his side, you encircled them around his waist and placed your head on his shoulder. Swaying softly to the beat of your own heart, you enjoyed the rhythm already set.

It wasn't really dancing per se, but it sure was relaxing. His warmth seeped into you through the embrace and. You relished in the feel of it. His heartbeat was clear under your ears, lulling you into a tranquil state.

Bucky liked the weight of your head on his shoulders. The way your hands were clasped behind his back. He felt whole in a way he couldn't really describe. Resting his cheek on your head, his hands tightened their hold around you.

The quiet around you was comforting instead of unnerving like you had anticipated. You didn't complain.

You spent a long time swaying in each other's arms. It felt good, being held like this in Bucky's warm embrace. You enjoyed the moment as long as you could.

Slowly, in a voice so low he thought he might have missed, you said, "I miss Sam, you know."

Bucky felt a pang of jealousy hit him. Not that he had anything against Sam. In all honesty, he missed their banters and the constant quipping at each other. He missed his friend too, but a sense of insecurity followed as well. Would you have preferred Sam over him to be here with you?

Oblivious to his inner turmoil, you continued, "Ever since we were active paramilitary, it was I, him and Riley, together everywhere. When Riley..."

You trailed off. Memories of the wonderful times with your late friend surfaced up. A lump formed in your throat at the onslaught of pictures flashing before your eyes of Riley pummelling to his death.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and tried to calm down. You bit your lower lip to prevent it from trembling. Years later, the guilt of not being able to save him still lingered.

Who else would know better than Bucky how it felt losing your best friend? The constant guilt which ate you up when you thought it was your doing. The rethinking of every decision made which led you to lose them. The never ending 'What if's.

He had fallen down that rabbit hole too many times, and you were always there to pick him up. He wasn't about to back out when his turn came.

Feeling a warm hand pet your head softly, you looked up at Bucky. He didn't say anything, but he smiled sweetly, encouraging you to continue.

"It was hard to deal with it, but we coped up together. Sam and I, we got closer than ever. He became like the brother I never had."

Bucky knew it wasn't the time, but he sighed in relief. It was all brotherly and sisterly and platonic love between you and him. Before he could celebrate though, you proceeded.

"Sam and I were inseparable after that, you know. Imagine my surprise when the one time I don't go on a morning run with him and he meets Captain fucking America."

You laughed at the memory of how mad you'd been at yourself for oversleeping that particular day. Sam had had to do quite some work to cheer you up.

"After the both of us became Avengers, we usually went on missions together. If we weren't on the same missions, or when I was on one while he was at home, the work to be done didn't let my mind wander. Even after he took the mantle, it was the same between us."

You sighed, "It just feels weird, spending all of my free time being away from him."

Glancing up at him, you kept your chin on his chest. Displaying a cheeky grin, you said, "But I am glad I have you here, Bucky. I like spending time with you, getting to know you better."

Bucky felt his heart soar within his chest. He couldn't contain the joy he felt at hearing that. Smiling widely, he tightened his arms around your waist, "I like spending time with you too, Y/N."

Placing your head on his chest once again, you said, "I think I'm gonna miss this when we get back. All these moments. This closeness we've had." You added for good measure, "You were the best cuddle pillow I've ever had, after all."

Bucky chuckled softly, his chest reverberating as he did. Perhaps the intimacy you'd developed was only because of the circumstances you were put in, but he didn't want to lose it. Only if as friends, the two of you had grown much more closer than before.

Just like you, he feared that when you'd be back to your normal lives, this connection would be lost. He didn't want to squander all the progress he had made with you.

But he also didn't want to fritter away the time he had with you right then only to worry about what would or could happen. He promised himself to appreciate and cherish any moment he had the chance to spend with you.

Softly, he said, "Don't worry about it, doll. We got enough time for that later. All we have is now."

"All we have is now." You repeated, snuggling closer to him, luxuriating in the feel of his arms around you and savouring the warmth of his embrace in the cold.

The bliss didn't last long though. There was a petty itch in your eyes, promoting you to bring your hands up to rub your lids.

Bucky pulled back when he felt the movement against him, "Hey, what happened?"

Face half covered with your palm as you tried to get rid of the itch, you said, "Something got into my eyes maybe."

"Don't rub your eyes. You're only going to worsen it." He tried to pull your hand away from your face.

Whatever it was, it irritated and burned the sensitive tissue of your eyes. You had to forcefully will yourself to let Bucky drag your hand away.

Leaning into you, he cupped your face in his hands and puckered his lips to softly blow on your eyes. Hot puffs of air hit you as he tried his best to relieve the itch. Keeping your eyes open was hard, but soon the unwanted particle was driven out.

"Better?" He asked.

"Yeah, thanks." You muttered.

You realised a little too late the close proximity between you too. It was that moment again , rekindling the fire which wasn't really put off before.

Your breaths slowed and your heart thumped loudly in your ears. Bucky could feel the erratic beats of your heart against him. He heard you gulp as you stared intently into his eyes which looked hungry yet gentle.

Your pupils dilated as your gaze fell down to his lips, lingering there before coming back to his eyes. Pushing your tongue out, you tentatively licked your lips teasingly slow.

Your lips glistened as Bucky glanced at them. They looked soft and delicious, and Bucky had never wanted to taste anything as bad as them.

He had stopped himself from doing exactly that for a reason before, but with his brain clouded with thoughts about you and your lips, he couldn't remember why. It was as if his mind had stopped working, which he didn't doubt it had.

Bouts of confidence hit him in that moment, overhauling his senses and preventing him from thinking about anything else. Would it really be wrong to have your lips on his, to taste the sweetness of you? It was all he'd desperately wanted to do since a long time but never dared to.

Throwing all caution to the wind, he finally leaned down...

The divider is made by @writeyourmindaway​

Chapter 6

I think you all know ensues next. 😏 

Blog’s Main Masterlist  || Taglists

Thank you for reading!

#bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader one bed #bucky fluff #bucky x reader fluff #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes x reader series #bucky x reader one bed #bucky barnes one bed #bucky barnes fanfic #soft!bucky barnes x reader #soft!bucky x reader #soft!bucky #bucky barnes x avenger!reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x female reader

[dear-yandere]

[ mirror, mirror ]

yandere! demon! johnny joestar x ghost-hunter! reader. modern au. headcanons and scenario inspired by buzzfeed unsolved.

› collab with: @lafirmament​. › warnings: religious and anti-religious themes, demons and supernatural shenanigans, possession. › art credit: 4156948.

— Such a pretty little thing, face scrunched in fear and screams echoing through the haunted buildings you insist on dragging him to. A renowned ghost hunter despite your renown as a scaredy cat, and yet you’re one of the bravest humans he’s ever laid eyes on. You’ll wander the halls with the eyes of a priest who’s been told their God is far from real, and yet, you’ll utter prayers and carry holy water as a last resort. Your naivete is the only thing keeping him from offing you for his own pleasure, really. What an interesting little human you are, what an interesting little pet.

— Your forays into haunted areas is a silly endeavor considering the greatest threat to your life is right beside you, masquerading as a best friend rather than a predator. Initially, he’d been meaning to have you as a snack — feed off your life force, as you’d once explained demons are capable of doing — but you make for a good play thing. It’s not often he finds a human who makes him chuckle with delight at every twist and turn, especially one so enamored by the supernatural that they’d venture into the very thing they hate most.

— As a human, it’s no secret he was crippled. A fact he hates to remember more than anything, he refuses to allow himself the same fate in the afterlife. Who the hell would be scared of a crippled demon anyway? When he takes trips to the human realm, he’s more than happy to possess some random asshole he finds on the street. Of course, when he met you, he more or less doomed himself to forever possess the body you met him in. Thankfully, glamour is a thing and he can make you and others see him as whatever he views fit. He wasn’t terrible looking when he was mortal, so he’s fine with making this body more or less look like him.

— He likes listening to you speak. Your voice is pretty when you get excited, high-pitched with stars in your eyes. You’re so keen on telling him all these interesting stories about spirits and ghouls and... demons. Your tales are amusing considering some are so far-fetched he can’t help but laugh. Perhaps you’re simply biased, because for reasons beyond him, you hate demons in particular. The thought of being terrorized by one is one of your greatest fears, he’s come to learn, though it would wound him if he didn’t like that about you in the first place. He wonders how you’ll react when he reveals his true nature to you, if you don’t die of a heart attack by then. Will you scream just how he likes it? Pass out? Bring out that phony holy water and shoddy cross as if they’ll protect you from anything? The curiosity all but kills him all over again, but he likes you too much to cut the fun short so soon.

— Those sounds you swore you heard, or that breeze or tap you swore you felt? He takes pride in these little pranks of his if only to see you cuddle into yourself and shriek for the entire building to hear. Luckily, there’s no one else besides you two. Your screams are fairly useless, but he doesn’t plan to do anything sketchy yet. It’s why he scares off the poltergeists who want to hurt you when you bring out that funny little... spirit box of yours. Of all Seven Hells, he hates that thing with a passion. It has a sound frequency that seems to draw spirits in and demons away; he’d rather you get rid of the thing entirely, but you keep it around because it’s ‘top of the line technology’ and you always ‘hear spirits talking to you through it’, even if it’s only when johnny isn’t accompanying you.

— And funnily enough, it is because you attract them — through your evident fear and pleasant screams, that is what they are naturally drawn to out of pure curiosity. You don’t realize this urgent fact, simply because Johnny makes sure you don’t catch onto it lest you don’t go feigning bursts of confidence. He loves it when you’re terrified shitless, and if you weren’t such amusing company, he’d terrorize you far worse than your wildest fears. It’s easy to pick your worst fears apart from the things you can tolerate — you’re awfully open with him. He shouldn’t be surprised, you did say he’s your best friend.

— His true intentions are unclear. What he feels for you is far from love, borderline obsession and curiosity above all else. Your companionship is nothing short of amusing and your reactions all the more alluring; he could easily off you, but you’re his for the taking. Demons are awfully possessive with their prey, completely incapable of mercy, sympathy, or love. If he senses any dangers from other spirits, he wards them off, the task easy enough given how highly he ranks in the Underworld. He’s a force to be reckoned with, a force that the lower-level spirits you encounter have no chance again. It’s fun watching them play around with you, sure, but he’s always close-by, watching, protecting what’s his.

“J-Johnny!”

He rolls his eyes, feeling your timid hands clutch his jacket — as if he’d save you. At this point, you should know how much joy he elicits from seeing you nearly piss yourself and scream at what he calls “nothing”. Seeing you now, he wonders what you’d do if he told you ghosts and demons really do exist. Coming from him of all people, you’d be shocked, but you’re so gullible and trusting that you’d believe his words in a heartbeat. The incessant teasing he’d have to endure afterwards is the only thing stopping him, though.

“There’s nothin’ there, pussy.” He snorts, glaring into the abyssal darkness of the hallway you just rushed from. Shadows flicker a few meters away as if scared by his presence. “I don’t see anythin’,” he snickers, enjoying the power he has over those shit-brained lesser demons. No one would dare touch you when he’s around. As animalistic as humans view demons, the system is more like a hierarchy ruled by position and fear. He’s by no means a hotshot in the demon realm, but he’s well-known enough to not attract unwanted attention from weaker spirits. That courtesy extends to you, for better or worse.

“There was!” You scan the darkness as if expecting to see something, balking when nothing shifts as it just had. The sudden silence  has you feeling like you’re being mocked. “I-I’m certain of it! I t-thought I heard a voice, so I used the spirit box and...” teeth dig into your bottom lip, a habit to stop you from screaming too much. “I think someone’s trying to talk to me, Johnny!” The prospect both excites and terrifies you, he can tell that much.

“Yea, and? What could they possibly got to say to you?” He shoots a glare down the hall, daring whatever cocky spirit  you’re talking about to man up and approach you again. “’Save me’? Some shit like that? As if they ain’t already dead. Yer the last person I’d ask, anyway.”

You scoff and push him away, furious that your first instinct was to cling to him of all people. Considering how he gets a good laugh outta your fear, you’d sooner cling to a random mannequin in the halls than this asshole. “It wouldn’t kill you to be nice to me sometimes, Johnny.”

A laugh sputters past his mouth. “Yeah guess you’re right.” Can’t kill what’s already dead, so you ain’t wrong. Unfortunately, a lot of his witty one-liners would blow his cover, especially since you already joke about him being a demon in disguise. “Still ain’t gonna do it, though.”

“Asshole.”

“Pussy.” He returns your scowl with a shit-eating grin and a light push against your back. “Well? Git goin’, you came back before the timer went off y’know. Or are you too much of a wimp?”

There’s that habit of yours again, chewing your lip when you’re nervous. He knows you’d rather cling to the title of ‘wimp’ or ‘pussy’ at this point, but your pride is far too big for that little mortal body of yours. You won’t back down, not after you came running all the way back here just to cling to him.

“F-fine!”

You’re already off down the hall before he can tease you some more. S’alright though, no one’s gonna bother you this time. No one but him, anyway. He’ll make sure of it.

dear-yandere 2019-2020, all rights reserved.

#yandere johnny joestar #yandere johnny joestar x reader #johnny joestar x reader #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure x reader #yandere jojo x reader #yandere jjba x reader #yandere jjba #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere #yandere scenario #yandere imagines #*headcanons #*scenarios

[and-it-freezes-me]

Accidents Happen - Last Words

Summary: An epilogue, or, the beginning of the rest of their lives.

Content: Cuddles, mention of blood and teeth, mention of alcohol, mention of drugs, mention of bad parenting

Word count: 2,817

{Part 7}

The best thing about their apartment, according to Virgil, was that it was directly opposite what he considered the best coffee shop in the city. It meant that he could study in the café until it closed, and then cross the road and crash on their couch if he missed the last bus. It was convenient, he said - although all three of them knew that he used it as an excuse to spend as much time with them as possible, especially during term time. Virgil didn’t like admitting it, but they all knew that he got a little lonely in his dorm room on his own.

Logan had ended up studying an astrophysics course on the other side of the country and wasn’t able to visit very much. Patton was closer, only two hours away by train and studying veterinary science, but even that distance was difficult to bridge more than once every few weeks given how intensive his course was.

Roman knew that Virgil lived for the holidays, when all three of them went back to their hometown and were able to spend weeks together.

During term-time, though, Virgil had to make do with the frequent calls and texts that came with a long distance relationship and rare meetings with Patton only. As such, he spent a lot of time crashing in their apartment, to the point that he may as well live there rather than his dorm.

If Remus were asked, he would say that the best thing about their apartment was that they were only a fifteen minute walk from the gym, where he had taken up not only boxing and kickboxing, but also judo, taekwondo, and jujitsu. Roman had no idea where he found the time to take all of those classes as well as work full-time in the tattoo parlour that had given him an apprenticeship. He had practically had a heart attack when Remus had come home one afternoon and announced that he was going to get qualified to teach children’s martial arts classes.

“When will you fit that in?” He had asked incredulously (although both Janus and Remus said that shrieked was more accurate).

“I’ll manage, Ro-ro,” was all Remus had said - and he had, too. Roman had had his doubts that Remus would be capable of keeping his more disturbing thoughts to himself for long enough to manage not to traumatise some poor kids, but so far no lawsuit had come crashing down upon them.

At first, he had thought it a fortunate coincidence that Remus’ apprenticeship was in the same city as the university at which Janus was going to study law, but when he had mentioned this his boyfriend and his brother had looked at him as though he had said something mildly stupid. (They did that a lot, actually).

“Did you really think I was gonna make Jan go to college without me? I waited until he got an offer and then started looking for something to do here.” Remus lifted his head up from where he had been lying across the couch, legs lazily bent over one of its arms.

Janus snorted and threw a piece of carrot at him, which he caught in his mouth. “That is not what happened. I told you that I was taking you with me even if it meant I had to force you into a suitcase and keep you under my bed like some contraband pet. Under threat of having to survive on smuggled cafeteria food, you started looking for a job.”

“That’s what I said,” Remus protested, tugging at the white streak in his hair. “You couldn’t stand being without me, so I applied for apprenticeships with all the stabbing parlours around here. They were really nice about the whole prison thing, actually.”

Roman didn’t bother mentioning that he had had no idea that Remus had any interest in art, let alone talent, until he had asked for company on the walk to work for his first day. That had been eleven months ago, just a few weeks after he had been released; Roman had returned to their apartment and mentioned his surprise to Janus, who had pulled a sketchbook from a shelf and allowed him to flick through it on the proviso that he didn’t tell Remus until his brother showed him himself. A lot of the work was dark or disturbing.

All of it was really, really good.

Remus had stopped self-medicating and started seeing a sleep therapist about a month after they had moved in. It had been a rough year - Roman’s room was right next to Remus’, but Janus was also woken by his screaming, and his room was on the other side of the small apartment - but the frequency of his nightmares seemed to have dropped. There were still nights that Roman was startled awake by his brother’s nightmares, still mornings when he entered the main room to find a dishevelled Remus that looked as though he had not slept at all, days where he went to wake Janus up so that he wasn’t late to his morning lectures to find the two of them curled around one another like puppies - but these had become much rarer occurrences.

Janus frequently said that his favourite thing about their apartment was that it was far enough away from campus that he didn’t have to worry about seeing people he took classes with all the time, but Roman and Remus both knew that he didn’t really mind his classmates. When Janus was in a slightly more giving mood, he would imply that his favourite thing about the apartment was its freedom.

Every other weekend, Janus took the train home to visit his parents - that had been their condition for allowing him to get an apartment rather than just staying in the student dorms - and every time he returned, he commented briefly that it had been nice to see his parents before spending the next two hours complaining about how pushy they were.

“We’ve barely even sat down to lunch and they’re already asking me whether I’ve been getting my essays done on time - it’s exhausting,” he whined, and Roman slipped his arms around his waist from behind and pressed a kiss just beneath his ear. He stopped whining almost immediately, preferring to turn around to use his mouth for more interesting things.

“All they care to ask about are my grades,” he moaned on a different occasion, walking into the apartment and dropping his coat in a pile by the door and then simply lying down in the middle of the floor. “And I remind them I have a social life too, and they ask if I’ve met anybody ‘more suitable’ to share a room with. Or anybody ‘without connections to known criminals’ to date. Or - oof, Rem, get off…”

“No,” was the response. Remus had taken the opportunity to just drop down on top of Janus and was now lying on top of him, deliberately going limp to make himself harder to displace. “You’re stuck now.”

“It would just be nice,” Janus complained, arriving home at two in the morning - he wasn’t expected until evening the next day: the trip must have been particularly unpleasant that time - and slipping into Roman’s bed rather than his own. “It would be nice if they cared more about me than the son they think they ought to have…”

“Shh. Sleeping now,” Roman responded, but he still rolled over and draped an arm over Janus’ torso and a leg between his legs. “Complain tomorrow.”

He did keep going back, though. Janus often ended his rants by commenting that they always seemed pleased to find that he hadn’t been poisoned by substandard cafeteria food or inedible cooking, and did seem to actually try to find his lengthy explanations of his subject interesting.

The freedom of living away from his high-pressure home was something that Roman understood, too. Nobody really minded if they didn’t put away laundry for a few days, for example - apart from Remus, who seemed to enjoy sitting in the dirty laundry hamper for ‘artistic inspiration’, and found his creativity damped when he only had clean clothing to squat in. Nobody cared if they went out for an evening together and didn’t get back until the early hours of the morning, or if they spent a lazy morning in Janus’ bed together, kissing, reading to one another (Janus liked it when Roman did voices for different characters; Roman loved hearing the excitement in Janus’ voice as he read something new), talking, sometimes just hugging. Except Remus, who complained sometimes that they were sickeningly cute. Nobody gave Janus a hard time if he stopped revising after only an hour and went to shower, saying that he just couldn’t focus any more that day. Nobody sent disappointed, judgemental glances at Roman if it took him more than a day to master a script.

The freedom was incredible.

But when one of them caught Janus in a particularly truthful mood, he would admit that his favourite thing about their apartment was the twins he shared it with.

He loved coming home after lectures to find Roman passed out on the couch, pages of whatever script he was trying to learn all over his chest.

He loved the evenings when Roman was out working, or studying, or auditioning, or trying to make friends, and he could fill two glasses with wine and watch a film with Remus, or gossip about the comings and goings at the tattoo parlour (the most disturbing thing Remus had ever gotten to submit a design for that might end up on an actual human being, he had told Janus delightedly, was a row of different kinds of teeth - human, shark, lion, cat, snake - puncturing the skin like needles going through fabric. His boss had commented that he appreciated the attention to the blood and torque on the skin), or chat about the stupid things people in Janus’ classes had said (honestly, if anybody genuinely thought an oboe was a giant cello, they deserved to be laughed at).

He loved the days when the three of them got to eat together, or went for a walk, or played games, or just lazed around and did very little.

He loved the gentle ribbing, the way the twins were constantly coming up with new nicknames for him, for one another, for their neighbours, for the kitchen appliances, for the regulars at the coffee shop across the street. A lot of the names were in no way repeatable in front of a sensitive audience. Only about half of those names came from Remus.

He loved it when Virgil visited and spent the night on the couch, and then made blueberry pancakes in the morning to thank them.

He even loved it when Remus had managed to set a bowl of cereal on fire at three in the morning, although he had requested that it not happen again.

The apartment wasn’t large, but it could have been an awful lot smaller. There was a bedroom for each of them (Roman and Janus did spend a lot of nights together, but they enjoyed having their own space as well), a main living room with a kitchen in the corner, a bathroom, and a final room that they used for laundry and storage. If Remus were asked - and even if he weren’t asked - he would say that the worst thing about the apartment was that the walls were relatively thin, and some nights he found that the nocturnal activities of his roommates it very difficult to get to sleep - though Remus’ phrasing had been rather less delicate.

Roman found that rather embarrassing. Janus had just smirked. They had both promised to try to keep it down after that.

Roman loved everything about the apartment.

When he had sat down and informed his parents that he was turning down his college offer, they had had a fit. What was he thinking? Clearly, he wasn’t: the stress of the last few months, of Remus’ shocking behaviour, had pushed him over the edge. Did he want to turn out like his brother? (He had had to work very hard not to start shouting when they said that). They’d been watching this happen, but this was okay, they’d get him somebody to talk to, and… He had turned the offer down as politely as he could.  Trying to inform them that he had only applied to study classics because university had been practically all they had talked about with him for months without offending them had been unfairly difficult. When he had been making his choices and sending in his applications, Roman had assumed that this was what he had wanted to be doing; it was what they had wanted, after all, and didn’t they want what was best for him?

Looking back, that had been when his smoking in the woods had gone from an occasional fun thing to a stress relieving habit.

Instead, he had started looking for a part-time job in the city that Janus was going to be studying in, and had used some of the money that had been set aside for college to go halfsies on the deposit for the apartment with Janus. They had moved in two weeks after Remus had gotten out of jail; Remus had spent those two weeks secretly staying with Janus, and moved in with them immediately.

Roman didn’t go home much. The disappointed silences and the hurt confusion and the pointed looks and the way his parents seemed to blame his new attitude entirely on his brother’s bad influence made the place feel stifling.

Remus had only tried to visit their parents once since moving into their apartment, the first time Roman had visited. They had gotten in the front door and Dae had wrapped Roman up in a suffocatingly tight hug, then pulled away - and seen Remus. Her face had closed up. “You’re not welcome here,” she had said, and Roman would never forget the look on his brother’s face when she had simply pointed at the door.

They had both left.

Roman didn’t know why he kept going back. Each time, he tried to bring up Remus, tried to show their parents how much he had changed. Each time the air seemed to be sucked out of the room until somebody changed the subject.

They weren’t fond of the fact that he was dating a man, either.

He considered staying away completely when they announced that Dae was pregnant again.

He didn’t, though. When the baby was born, Roman was determined to be there for it. He had spoken to Remus about it, too, and they were coming up with ways for both of them to be able to take some of the pressure away from their new sibling.

Now, Roman spent his days working as a stagehand in a theatre on the other side of town, and took night classes in social studies. Remus wasn’t the only one that wanted to help people. He auditioned for shows whenever the opportunity came up.

He went on days out with his brother, got coffee with Virgil, hung out with Patton when he came into town sometimes. He went on dates with his boyfriend, hung out with the other people at the theater and in his classes. He made mistakes, apologised for them, didn’t make them again.

He wasn’t an angel by any means - but then, he wasn’t a demon either. None of them were. Sometimes they messed up, sometimes accidents happened, but that was okay. They were all human, after all.

And just then, they were three humans celebrating Janus passing his first year of classes. Roman had spent the day trying to make sushi, while Remus alternated between making unhelpful comments about how interesting it would be to try using something other than fish, like raw chicken for example (Roman had looked at him in mild horror), and making bukkumi for dessert after stating that there was no law saying that they couldn’t have a Japanese main followed by a Korean dessert and accompanied by very French wine, and that he should know because his best friend was a lawyer.

The main course was a bit of a mess, but Janus had been thrilled anyway. The didn’t light candles - Janus wasn’t entirely comfortable being close to naked flames - but Roman had made up for that by spending the previous day making entirely too many origami snakes, which decorated almost the entire apartment now.

After dinner, they piled onto the couch and Janus chose a crime show for them to watch together.

If this was what life looked like now, Roman thought, one arm around Janus’ waist and the other cradling a mug of hot chocolate, then he didn’t have any complaints to make. 

Taglist:

@bloodymari-0666

#roman sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #AccidentsHappenAU #epilogue

[fuckingdeadbutroyal]

Jasonette July-Soulmate AU- Part 6

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 

!Warning! Explicit mentions of death! Read cautiously. 

Meanwhile in the akuma-shelters:

It has been close to a week now. The shelters weren’t properly equipped to supply so many people for such a long amount of time. Luckily it did have enough food and water, with the stocks having just had their yearly refill of canned food and drinkable water coming from the tap. There weren’t enough beds though. The worst thing weren’t the beds though. Ther shelters wanted to lower the risk of specific inanimate objects to function as an akuma.weapon, so the interior designers made sure he shelters kept nothing for entertainment. Lack of entertainment could be destructive to any persons mind, but paired with the ongrowing fear and grieve the citizens had to deal with? It was dangerous.

The people knew how to fill there time though. It was something us humans have always loved to do: Fight for structure and destroy anything in our way to gain control. That’s why some shelters have formed a hierarchy, with either the loudest or the physically strongest standing on top of the food chain. 

One shelter in particular believed the akuma had caused the end of the world, which was mainly because of the alley it was positioned on being isolated by Ladybugs third Lucky Charm. She had used it to try and capture the akuma when he tried to destroy  the shelter he felt personal hatred towards. Hawkmoth knew that it was caused by the now akumatized homeless man being frequently kicked out of it whenever there was no attack. Long story short, now the place was surrounded by large, high pressure fountains of water reaching up into the sky. (Tikki had clearly gotten desperate.) The only way out was either the caved-in tunnel the akuma had suddenly learned how to make, or a yo-yo/ baton/ grappling hook. Of course, none of the citzens had access to those. So they were stuck and afraid, not knowing anything about the outside world, apart from the fact that Ladybug still hasn’t captured the akuma and therefore couldn’t use her cure.

The people in that particular shelter were very diverse. There was an old couple, a few incomplete families who have lost people to the earthquakes, a group of college students, a group of kindergarteners and a few teachers and classes from Collège Françoise Dupont. 

The akuma shelters were opened in the middle of the day. At first they were timed with the akuma-alerts, but over the years the frequency of attacks has risen, which led to the shelters only being opened on Ladybugs and Chat Noirs request. That has become a rarity, since they only asked for it if there was a chance of them not succeeding. Once they were opened though, the citizens knew to follow a strict protocol. Schools for examples evacuated similarly to firedrills, with the slight change of the younger classes using the shelter underneath the school, while the older classes went for the next one in proximity. Usually the akuma-alert app kept them updated on last sightings of the villains whereabouts. Usually that wasn’t a problem, since most of the time the akumas were designed to attract attention and provoke fear. 

The current akuma was making it difficult, though. He was visible, sure, his actions spoke louder than any other akuma ever has. But you never knew where he was, not unless he was preaching his beliefs to one person in particular, who then had to survive so they could warn the other parisians. No, this time it was much more difficult. Ladybug was giving herself the blame for opening the shelters too late. At first the Dirtbag wasn’t destroying the buildings, just rattling them up a bit and keeping the citizens awake. The duo thought they could handle him, were even convinced they could find him in time, using Chats nightvision. I was only when everyone went about their day the next morining when the monster decided to strike. Hurting someone in their workplace so they would try to find shelter in their homes, before getting killed there or being lucky to find a place in the akuma shelters. A devious plan which lead to many deaths. Marinette hated herself for not figuring it out before it was already too late. She could have taken the precaution, listened to her gut feeling telling her to ignore the civilians complaints and just GET THEM TO BE SAFE. It reminded her of people who insisted on not wearing a helmet while riding their bikes. “Nothing bad has happened yet so why the panic? The drivers are going to look out for me.” and then one bad thing happens and it’s suddenly too late. No going back from not having taken the safety precaution while she still could’ve. 

No calling Bunnix or using second chance. You just have to deal with it. 

Dealing with it. That’s something the city will now have to do. Ladybug swore to herself that if.. no when she finishes this battle, she will immediatly take care of mental health programs and the promotion of health care organisations. Everyone will need therapy. It was bad enough to remember having actually died, but now there was more to it. It wasn’t as temporary as it has previously been. It wasn’t a question of one or two people dying for a timespan of about two hours, sometimes even less. No, it was about a third of Paris and a matter of days. 

The heroine was terrified of her magic maybe not being enough. 

She didn’t voice that thought to Tikki, not wanting to insult her abilities. Apart from that the girl knew her Kwami, she knew that if she were to share her fears, the other would shower her with love and support and probably even pity. It mostly wasn’t a bad thing, but Marinette knew she would brake down in tears if she were to let any soft emotions in. She just couldn’t afford to break down, couldn’t afford to give in to her emotions or the pain would ovetake her, numb her and lay her down in an episode that could seperate the parisians from their heroine. No, Marinette couldn’t think of how her decisions led to her parents death, she could not hink of how her decisions led to half her class being killed ~ by their school collapsing onto them the very moment they stepped out of the schoolgates on their way to the shelter. She could not remember Julekas face when she couldn’t free her girlfriend from the rock that was kepping her legs in place. Couldn’t think of how Ladybug went to safe Chat Noir instead of lifting that rock of the tiny blond girl who was bleeding to death in her girlfriend arms. Rose and Juleka did not deserve this.

Oh gods Juleka! She has lost everything to this battle. Mari sincerely hoped she didn’t know about what has happened to her home, didn’t hear or even feel how Luka and her mother drowned in the wreck of their own ship...

Juleka wasn’t there to witness it, she was hiding in a shelter. To be specific, she was hiding in the very one shelter Ladybug has isolated from the rest of Paris. You coul call it the safest one of them all, if it weren’t for the person who was hiding in it. 

They say it’s easier to not cut your hand, if you know where the sharp edges are. Well, this shelters sharp edge was shiny, so how could it be dangerous? 

Lila Rossis’ shiny tears could drown her worst enemy and they would still marbel about that glistening beauty.

They say you shouldn’t pour gasoline in a room you can’t escape, a tiny spark could burn, but breathing it in for too long can kill you. Lilas lies were sprinkling into every direction in a room full of people she didn’t know. Her gasoline could meet a spark and burn... It was day six and for now the only danger for her health were the toxins, the acidity of her lies and attention seeking. It was slowly eating it’s way into the truly hurt, dissolving the hope of the ones who were traumatized. Lila would do anything to reach the top. She had no problem with throwing her friends under the bus, just to feel the temporary relief of the breeze  their fall would bring. 

In this situation getting that breeze meant loads of strategy. Lila was coldhearted, yes. She was a neglected child from a toxic household, yes. She didn’t understand love that didn’t come from lies. But unlike others, she didn’t give up on those toxic lectures her life has taught her. Lila was stoic, which meant she believed in her thesis, not wanting to listen to other opinions. Lila was intelligent, which meant she knew how to make her opinion be the only one that mattered. Lila was scarred, which meant she would try everything she could to keep herself from getting hurt. 

But Lila was also weak, which meant she would hurt others before they could hurt her.

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

“This is nice.”, Mari thought to herself. She felt so incredibly comfortable, not a single limb was hurting from exhaustion, she was warm and safe. Breathing was easy, no pressure was pushing down on her lungs. Upon realising that, she couldn’t help herself but take a very deep breath, which later turned into a heartly yawn. “I haven’t slept this good since...oh shit” Her memories came back in a punch. Her breath hitched and started to pick up on pace. Ah there it was, the constant adrenaline mixed with panic, that was keeping her from getting that oxygen she craved. A grumble suddenly made it’s appearance right next to the girls ear and she shrieked fully awake and scrambled away, only now feeling her body as her own and recognizing the position she was in. That fully woke the man who she has just been sharing a sleeping bag with- a familiar sleeping bag, though she wasn’t about to start to decipher that now. Instead she was staring at the man she had just previously met in her dream. And he was staring back, eyes just as wide as hers. She could practically hear him overthinking while she was just...stuck. Usually it would have been the other way around. Mari would blush, scramble stutter and panic her way into an embarrasing situation. Now though? She could see those emotions in that incredibly imperfectly perfecty looking man in front of her. She could see that tiny scar she wore on her eyebrow gracing his. She was blushing, yes, and she felt the shock sit deep in her heart, emotions overrunning her at a pace she didn’t think were possible. That meant a lot, since Marinette was all too familiar with anxiety and sensory overload. But she didn’t freak out. Instead she felt just felt the uncontrolable urge to comfort him, to make his heart stop panicking and instead feel the safety he had given her. Not even secondguessing herself she just lunged into his arms, hugging the man so closely he would never forget that very moment. Jason was still for just a millisecond before he put his arms around her in a just as energetic hug. It was like finally seeing your little sibling after not having seen them for a month. You see how much they have grown, are overflowing with all the emotions, good and bad, you have felt because of them. Suddenly, though, you are loving every one of them. It was like meeting your best friend after they have just told you they were getting into that school they always wanted to or seeing them safe after something horrible had happened in their area. It was pure appreciation, adoration, love. The meeting of soulmates.

It’s not like they haven’t interacted before, after all. They were THERE whenever something bad had happened to the other. They had felt the other grow up, learned what the other has internalized and thought of each other every. single. day, for years. To Marinette it has been her whole life and even though Jason was two years older than her, he has couldn’t remeber a single day passing without her in his mind. 

“Mornin’”, he spoke up first, though his voice wasn’t more than a whisper. 

“Nice to meet you too”, she whispered back, a smile clear in her voice. 

Hearing her voice he couldn’t help but hug her closer, but upon feeling the pain in her ribs he winced and pulled back. She was confused by the sudden movement for just as second, before realising and shaking her head with a laugh. 

“It’s okay don’t worry, I kind of got used to it, living with you and everything...”

While Marinettes heart was swelling up with warmth from the knowledge that this man did really care about her, his was cramping from the proper realization of just how much suffering he must’ve put her through. He saw her throat covered in all those tiny white lines, the fresh blue bruises on her arms. The pain he felt was the same she did. She did not deserve to suffer so much, not at all. Marinette saw him trembling and took his hands. This was very unlike her, not overthinking, being so bold while in civilian form. She enjoyed it. Even more so, she was happy to be able to act this way, since it was clearly necessary for the situation. Jason on the other hand felt like he was crying, letting out a breath he has been holding for too long, finally breathing in after a long dive. He felt so so damn relieved. Her hands in his where so reassuring, so forgiving and apologetic. 

“I am so sorry”, he mumbled, meaning every bit of it.

“Don’t be, those are mine.”, she smiled. Mari knew what he meant and accepted his apology. He didn’t just mean the scars that were currently gracing her skin. He meant the tiny one on her eyebrow, the several broken bones, the bullet wounds that were gracing her thighs and shoulders, the thick scars left by blades and explosions. He meant the pain. And she understood him. His soulmate wasn’t mad at him. Marinette lifted their intertwined hands to eyelevel, the touch so foreign but so familiar. Her rough fingertips touched his, the cuts she has never learned how to avoid while having her late night sewing sessions having healed again. Jason smiled slightly, remembereing just how annoyed he was to wake up to fresh cuts almost every morning. “I always paid you back, after all.” A grin was now gracing her face, a devious glistening lighting up her already vibrant, aquamarine irises.

Jason let one hand go and subconciously rubbed his upper arm, the one they always beat to get back on each other. Marinette giggled again, now being ready to take in more of her surroundings than just that whole world of a person in front of her. It was cold, dark and smelled vaguely of home. Not a good combination at all, especially considering the latest events.

The latest events... Where was she? Why was it so quiet? And why the fuck was she sitting on her fathers sleeping bag?

“Oh no you didn’t.”, her voice was flat. She remembered Chat having been by her side when she collapsed. He must’ve brought them there. The girl turned her head in every direction, looking for him without success.

“Did Chat bring us here? Has he slept? Has he seen me in my civilan form? Tikki where are you?”, her voice was rising in volume, demand and worry more audible than it had been in a long time. The tiny godess flew out of her hiding spot, face contorted in uncertainty. Before she could answer, Jason chimed up: “Yes, he is okay and promised this place to be safe. He did see you and left shortly after. He wasn’t looking like he was about to do something reckless, just said he’d get back to work, so I let him go.” His reaction was kind of weird, to be honest, but Jason hasn’t thought much of it back then. Now he was quite certain that Chat wasn’t supposed to see Ladybug untransformed. The civilian looking girl just nodded and stood up, her mind obviously racing and her eyes flicking through the room. “I really want to leave this place. Are you ready to go?” 

Tikki looked worried and kind of guilty and Jason did’t yet know why, but they had time for that later. They quickly did what they needed to do, which meant restocking on cookies and drinking a lot of water for Marinette and contacting the team for Jason. The soulmates updated each other on the battle while on speaker with the bats. Loads of uncertainties were answered and ideas on how they could proceed were exchanged. Towards the end of it, when the heroes and vigilantes just agreed to meet up at the Louvre and go further from there, Jason suddenly laughed and over to his soulmate. “I just noticed, we haven’t properly introduced ourselfes.”, he held out his hand, a lopsided grin gracing his features, “Name’s Jason Todd, the scariest Red Hood with guns Gotham has to offer”. Marinette laughed, clasping his hand in a firm grasp. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, also known as MDC and anonymously flying over the city in a skintight suit calling myself an insect.” They shook hands, eyes glistening with humour, both freaked out about the absurdity of that situation. “I’d say I’d wish we’d met under different circumstances, but I gotta admit this-”, the man lifted his other arm, which was currently holding one of his guns, “-is pretty damn epic.”

"It's getting even more epic from here.", she smiled, speaking as if she knew more than she told him. "I have an idea. We need to get an important box from my room. I know It's safe but I haven't moved the debris to retrieve it, yet. Kind of couldn't handle my emotions enough to come here sooner...", realization hit him like a brick. "This is your home? So are those people...this place.. oh Mari I'm such an idiot."

"No, Chat is the idiot. He has been flirting with me in both my forms for literal years and has never once voiced any suspicion on us being the same.” 

“Wait what? He flir-” 

“And now he just takes me to the place we dear but turned out to need most! Maybe he has figured it out and knew I would keep my box here...”, Marinette started rambling and Jason couldn’t help but smile inspite of his irritation. He didn’t understand everything she was saying but she looked so much better than she did on the videos Tim has send to the group. No more exhaustion, way less pain and just such determined hope was seeping out of her every pore. Jason enjoyed her presence, her voice and her words, even though he didn’t understand most of the connections. She was just to lively and cute to stop her. Sadly that vanished pretty quickly. 

Not only has Marinette realised that she has been talking non stop to a man she had just properly met for the first time, but she was already talking about things only she and Chat knew. It was weird, as if he must’ve known them. He was there after all. By her side, in her body, all the time.

They made their way towards her room, passing by a dusty kitchen and a door that probaly lead to some kind of foyer. There was what resembled a living room to their left, but it’s ceiling had collapsed and everything was covered in dust an debris, so it was hard to tell. Luckily Marinette decided to transform before making her way through it, which lead to Jason taking the lead and already going towards the destroyed staircase she pointed out to him. He had turned his back to Mari, not knowing what the transformation consisted of and not wanting to invade her privacy. He saw the walls around him light up pink for a second, but his attention was elsewhere. The closer to the staircase he went, the more rotten it smelled. There was an already dry trail of brownish blood coming from above which lead to...

Jason was happy he was the first one to notice them. He has seen many dead bodies before, has been the reason for some himself. Seeing those people was disturbing though. They were saved as soulmate-knowledge in some deep part of his brain. The fear of her reaction to seeing them was even worse. That’s why when he heard Ladybug approach him he quickly turned around and took her hands and so she would face him instead of the staircase, before she’d gotten the chance to see them.

Marinette, or currently Ladybug, let out a startled “huh” and looked at him questioningly. He only now noticed the slight redness in her eyes and the irritation in her gaze. She was holding back tears and he hadn’t even noticed. What kind of a soulmate does that? “Will you be okay?”, he asked, holding her hand so gently she could pull away without any resistance. It was clear this gesture was meant completly for her and she appreciated it wholeheartedly. It felt so much better, safer than with Chat. She loved her partner and of course she trusted him not only with her life, but also to back off whenever she asked him to. That wasn’t everything that mattered though and Mari was sad she’d only just realised why she was truly comfortable around him. 

Adrien was very touch starved, has been ever since his mother died. So he subconciously tried to prolong every touch he received. No matter if it was when she was handling him something or walking beside him, he was always touching her, constantly trying to hold on, keep her there just a little longer. It wasn’t just clingyness, it was as if he’d zip himself onto her whenever he could. She didn’t blame him for it and often didn’t even mind his affection. As mentioned, he always immediatly backed off whenever she asked him to. Once he even managed to spent a fight protecting her without any physical contact whatsoever. It was much more dificult that way, but she had winced when he jokingly kissed her hand before the fight and he has taken that as a sign to back off. He only allowed himself to come closer again when she’d explicitly allowed him to do so, not wanting to watch him walk around with drooping ears. Still, she rarely enjoyed the contact and almost never initiated it. Not because she didn’t like him, she just didn’t want to get his or her hopes up. Now, looking at her soulmate, she was happy she hasn’t tried anything with Chat. It would’ve only made everything much more complicated than it already was. Of course she could have had a platonic soulmate-relationship with Jason, but considering his looks and his charm Marinette would have considered it a shame not to appreciate who the universe had paired her with. 

“I’ll manage.”, she answered, though her voice was unpleasantly close to breaking. “I’ve got my coping mechanisms, more talking less thinking, though I’m sorry if I annoy you with it I should probably find a new wa-”

Before she could dive into another ramble Jason just shook his head, glancing over her shoulder. She realy should not see them, no coping mechanism is going to delete that image once it’s there. “I’m okay with that, don’t worry”, he tried to smile but gave up when it came out pained. This was not the moment for smiles. Not while he was facing his dead future in-laws. 

“But may I suggest a new coping mechanism?”, he bowed to the girl in front of him, who just tilted her head in curiosity. “What do you suggest, Monsieur?” Once she accepted the invitation he gently pulled her closer, taking his red heltmet that has been previously dangling on his belt, and carefully placed it on her head. She giggled, the helmet was too big on her and she looked incredibly cute. “I think you put it on backwards, I can’t see.”, she stated with a teasing smile in her voice. “Oh I’m sorry dearie, guess I’ll have to help you get up those stairs then”, upon saying that he picked her up and, when he sensed no discomfort from her side, proceeded to carefully climb past the two dead bodies on the staircase. Once they safely arrived in the room above and Jason was sure the Dupain-Chengs were no longer visible, he let her down and turned the helmet into the correct position. ”Feel safer like that?” “Tikkis magic protects me from any possible injuries. But I still like it very much, your air conditioner in this thing is incredible” She turned to him with a smile. “I’ll feel much safer with you wearing it, though.”

Mari took off the helmet and stood on her tip-toes, reaching up to place the red fashion-disaster on his head. “Once we’re done with that Dirtbag I’ll design you a new one. You don’t just look scary, this thing is embarassing me on your behalf.”

“Hey! I designed it myself! But I’ll gladly take you up on that anyways. Tim has only praised you handiwork so far and his face upon seeing me wear an MDC original instead of him is going to be priceless.”

Jasons ear suddenly rung with Tims strained voice asking about MDC and what the fuck he had missed. Jason ignored him, though on the inside he was yodeling with laughter about having gotten Tims favourite designer as his soulmate. 

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

Adrien was furious with himself. How could he have brought Marinette to the very home she would have wanted to avoid the most? How did he not notice the intensity of her grieve after her parents death? “I’m such an idiot!”, his scream echoed through the void that once was Paris. He was running towards yet another mansion, the one near the Pont des Arts, and audibly talking to Plagg. For an outsider it would’ve looked like he was talking to himself, or even worse: his suit. Technically he was doing just that, since Plagg had no way of reacting to his words while in this form and Adrien was not ashamed to admit that he liked it much better that way. No moans and dumb jokes while he was talking about important stuff. (He liked the jokes though, Plaggs sense of humour was Purr-ecious, even though admittedly Adrien was the only one to think that.)

“You think so? I think you still being alive is pretty not-idiot like.”, that voice made Adrien stop dead in his tracks, leading to the one who had suddenly appeared running beside him toppling over. Chat took fighting stance, waryily following the person with his eyes. “How the fuck did I not notice you sooner?!” The bright yellow figure, which the cat recognized as the Signal stood up and lifted his hands as if to show they were unarmed, only he was indeed very much armed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m with Batman, so please don’t attack.” Adrien mentally cursed, knowing that the lack of noticing someone as noticeable as the Signal was Plaggs form of revenge on Adriens rambling. “You little shit”, he whispered to the Kwami, who of course did not respond.

“Excuse me?”, Duke was staring at him in slight irritation. “Oh no I’m sorry I was talking to my...suit. It’s a long story. Anyways! It’s nice to meet you Signal! I’m a big fan.”, a smile spread out on the cat, his overall appearance only intensifying the cheshire grin that followed, “My name’s Noir, Chat Noir. I have to say, you look purrfectly nothissable, your suit is pawsomely doing kitts job.”

“Are you a furry?”

“What? NO!”

“I mean there’s nothing wrong with it if you are it’s just the way you speak-”

“I’m not, but thanks for the reassurance, I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.”

The look Signal was giving him was...hard to describe. Adrien was blushing, hard. Of course he would fail at flirting with one of his favourite vigilantes. OF COURSE the Signal would think Adrien was a furry. Marinette had warned him, why wouldn’t he listen?! An awkward silence kept the two boys in place, each looking at the other in uncertainty. Finally Duke decided to break the silence. “So... anyways... let’s get going, I’ll introduce you to the others. We also have some gadgets you and Ladybug could find useful.”

“That’s great, thanks.”

“Just so you know, I’m not judging you-”

“Thanks.”

“- but whenever you’re ready...”

“What do you mea-”

“As Anna from frozen has said: Love is an open door.”

“I get it. Please stop.”

“Sorry.”

With that, the black and yellow pair made it’s way towards the Louvre, with at least something else but the end of the world on their mind.

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

“How can you be so ignorant? Don’t you know how much Jagged Stones’ son meant to her? You of all people must understand how bad it is to have a loved one die!”

“Alya please, Juleka is still coping, she didn’t mean it that way...”, a crocodile-teared Lila told her servant, though she wasn’t really trying to stop her. Just a few minutes ago they were all discussing the distribution of rations, since the fight has been going on for even longer than they had formerly estimated, which meant a rapidly ending amount of food as well as rapidly growing panic. 

Lila chose that very moment, when everyone sat down, to start audibly weeping. How could she not use such a perfect audience, after all? 

“I’m so sorry I just.... I was trying to keep it together for so long now but then it got so quiet and it all just...”, she wiped her perfectly dry nose on her sleeve,”my boyfriend... Luce, Jagged Stones son you must’ve heard of him...well he died in the first night and I have only just properly processed it...” 

Upon hearing this, a murmur went through the audience. Over 80% of the present people have lost someone to the akuma. Everyone was coping differently, that’s okay. Juleka for example has spent most of her stay either silently sitting or very quietly humming to herself. Whenever someone pulled her back into reality though, her thoughts caught up with her and lead to full blown panic attacks which left her shivering, crying and throwing up in one of the limited toilets the shelter had to offer or outside the doors, which really didn’t help her condition, apart from maybe the higher oxygen rate the street had to offer. 

During the planned meeting, Julleka proceeded to just stay in her corner and humm her melodies, until the words “Jagged Stones’ son” had pulled her out of her trance. Instead of panicking, Lilas claim led to a kind of rage growing inside Julekas chest she hasn’t felt for a long time. 

“Jagged Stones’ son? Are you fucking serious?”, her voice wasn’t loud. Juleka rarely raised her voice. She didn’t need to, it was powerful enough if she wanted it to be. It filled the previously murmuring room with the kind of thunder that left a void behind. Some were holding their breath and for once it wasn’t because they were afraid to provoce the italian girls tears. Not only hasn’t Juleka spoken since her parting from Rose, no, her voice also held the energy of murder, her words intentions promised blood.

The ones who knew her were even more afraid, some held tears n their eyes. Juleka and Rose had a very rare kind of bond. They didn’t have the same abilities or a dependance on each other. Instead their bond was complementary. Where Juleka was darkness, Rose was light. Where Rose was naiv, Juleka was vary. Where Juleka was forgiving, Rose was loud. Where Rose had a voice that could carry for miles, even if she didn’t raise it, Juleka had hearing that could decipher even the quietest sounds. 

It isn’t unusual for a soulmate to carry one of the other ones traits in case of seperation. Some liked the reminder, it made them feel connected to the person they love, even if they were dead. Some couldn’t handle it, not being ready to let go. 

Juleka was somewhere in between when she heard her voice suddenly sound like Rose. She now had both of their complementary powers, she should feel complete, like a full human being. Juleka was happy to hear her loved ones voice again, but she did not in the slightest feel complete. She felt torn. She couldn’t hear her soulmates heart beat anymore. She couldn’t stop thinking of the moment she heard it stop. It stopping was the loudest sound she has ever heard.

Now she had her lovers voice by her side, supporting her in what she was going to say next.

“You are not dating him, shut the fuck up and get your priorities straight.”

That's the very moment all hell broke loose. Of course there were the ones who were smart enough to at least notice that arguing with the musician was dangerous and simply uncalled for, but there were also the already brainwashed ones who believed they had to protect the privileged who just felt like exploiting a situation for fun. Those believers were a few newbies Lila has recruited during her stay in the shelter and most of her classmates. Only Ivan, Nathaniel and Ondine joined Julekas side. The rest was either dead or has succumbed to the overwhelming pressure of the situation.

Alya was in protective mode, but for whatever reason she was protecting the offender.

That brings us back to the very moment:

“How can you be so ignorant? Don’t you know how much Jagged Stones’ son meant to her? You of all people must understand how bad it is to have a loved one die!”

"Yes I do.", Juleka voice rose slightly. The louder she got the more she sounded like herself, so she kept it quieter. Rose had to have a say in this too. "And so does up to everyone else here. But I also know that my brother has been alive that morning and I know that he would never even think of dating you, Lila."

She rose from her seating position, not caring for how her knees were about to buckle due to not taking care of herself for the last few days. The dust in her hair and the dark marks on her clothes made all those who saw her feel the dire of the situation. All but Lila. Lila wasn’t used to loosing and since she has never perceived the “quiet emo” as a threat before, she didn’t give her words any value. A lethal mistake.

“Oh really? What, are you saying your mother, that old lady who thinks she’s a pirate, had a child with Jagged Stone? Bless her soul I know it must be difficult to live with her..I’m so sorry if I sound mean I don’t mean it like that..you can come to me whenever you need me. I’m your friend and you’re right, your grieve is more important than mine, especially with a mother who brainwashed you like that....”

“Do not dare insult my mother. Don’t you dare pretend to know me. Don’t you dare twist my words. Who are you grieving, anyways? Isn’t you mother in Canada, helping the homeless? Or no wait, that was your long lost twin sister who has only just recently invited you to her wedding next month? And wasn’t Adrien your secret boyfriend? How did you bring Luka..no I mean Luce into this?”

“I...I understand you are hurt Jules”, the tall girl winced at the nickname her brother gave her coming out of that demons mouth, “but please don’t drag Adrien into this, wasn’t he always nice to you? Guys please don’t tell on her to Adrien, he would be terribly hurt....he has such a difficult life already...”, she hid her face in her hands. The ones who believed her thought it was to hide her tears, but in reality she was panicking. Juleka had a much better memory than she has expected.

“Stop attacking the girl like that, come here Miss Rossi, she won’t get past me.”, a male voice spoke up. It was principle Damocles, a man who feared the position Lila claimed to have. “You shouldn’t be letting your rage out on the innocent. We understand that your loss must’ve been tragic, but Miss Rossis loss isn’t about you. Let the girl grieve in peace or leave her alone.”

Juleka stopped shaking. Instead she just stood there, fire flaming in her eyes and a scary eeriness in her stance. “I’m leaving then.”, Roses voice proclaimed and the figure moved. No one tried to stop her as she went straight for the exit, climbed over the debris and turned around to look at them for one last time. Lila was about to say something, fake tears already ready to flow, but Juleka just flipped her off and shut the heavy metall door.

Oh how good it felt to breathe.

To scream.

Ladybug heard her scream and she had just the right Miraculous to help her let that anger out.

----------

Hi!

So this took really fucking long! But the next one is almost finished so there will be another grand update soon. I was writing several scenes at once and then took way too long to finish each one and properly connect them BUT I now have loads of action and banter and relationship and characatergrowth and all that funky fluff we love ^^

I’m sorry if I’ve kept you waiting, and I’m slightly sorry for the medium-cliffhanger...

IMPORTANT thank you all so much for your feedback! I love you so much and I’m sorry I haven’t answered most of you even though you absolutly deserve any bit of attention there is. Please just know that whenever I write these “thank you speeches”: I mean you. You are amazing and I hope you are feeling well <3

My tag list has grown! If you want to be added to this pretty ensemble down there, just message me in any way and I’ll be happy to add you!

Tag list \o/:

@maribat-is-lifeblood @lokilex @amayakans @readingismyoxygen @zalladane @sunspritethedestroyer @toodaloo-kangaroo @purplesundaze @yeet-this-bitch @ratherbereading125 @snap-crackle-pop-goes-my-joints @slytherin-batbitch @melicmusicmagic @laurcad123 @violatiger8 @thatonecroc 

Thanks for reading ^^

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

#jasonette #jasonette july #jasonette soulmate au #jason todd #jason todd x marinette dupain-cheng #maribat #maribat fanfic #marinette dupain-cheng #batfam #ml juleka #julerose #death trigger warning #soulmate au #soulmate bruises au #ml ladybug #ml angst #ml salt #lila rossi #duke thomas #chat noir #adrien agreste #luka couffaine #if you are reading this i'm sending you a virtual hug

[keichanz]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

hey @britonell​. do you remember Ride? yeah. that’s the one. anyway i have absolutely positively no explanation for this other than the fact that i’m a slut and also i’m blaming @clearwillow​ and @lemonlushff​ for this because they will know exactly where in the fresh fucking hell this came from. 

now if you’ll excuse i’m going to crawl back into the hole i came from and actually attempt to finish my 654 WIPs i have kthxbye.

anyway this is a follow up of sorts to my oneshot Ride because i have no self control. so here enjoy Stripper Inuyasha in chaps and a Stetson as i make him fucking line dance across a stage *cackle*

brief smut at the end but nothing exceedingly detailed because i’m lazy.

“Kagome,” Sango groaned, following her friend through the packed club and raising her drink above her head in order not to spill it as she meandered through the sea of people and tables. Jesus, this place was huge! “Why are we here again? And how the hell were you able to bypass that line? It was like a mile long!”

“I told you already,” Kagome called back over her shoulder, keeping a tight grip on her beer as she headed toward the only empty table in the entire establishment, reserved for a one Kagome Higurashi and guest. “We’re meeting someone.”

Sango didn’t fail to notice Kagome did not answer her second question and she sighed in irritation. Her best friend wasn’t telling her something and for the life of her she didn’t understand why. Kagome had always told her everything, and vice versa. There were no secrets between them, and that was why they were so close. But she also trusted Kagome and knew if it were truly important, her friend would tell her so Sango let it slide and muttered an apology as she bumped into a table while squeezing through the narrow paths. The tables were clustered so close together it was almost impossible to maneuver between them, but they managed and finally reached where Kagome had been leading them.

Gratefully sliding into the cushy seat beside her friend, Sango glanced around and couldn’t help but notice their table, which had been suspiciously empty in a fully packed club, was near dead center of the place and with a clear view of the stage not too far from them. It was empty at the moment, but the show hadn’t started yet, so not a surprise. Above the dull roar of chatter and laughter, Sango could hear a low beat coming from the speakers situated everywhere, standby music as the “performers” no doubt got prepared.

Sango flushed and took a sip of her Cosmo. She couldn’t believe she’d allowed Kagome to talk her into coming to a damn strip club of all places and she’d only given in because she was tried of her friend constantly bugging her about it. Hopefully after tonight, and after meeting whoever Kagome wanted her to meet, Kagome would be satisfied and never ask her again. These places just weren’t her scene, though of course she had nothing against strippers. Hey, you gotta do what ya gotta do.

Sitting back in her chair and crossing her legs, Sango sighed and set her drink on the table before turning her attention to the woman beside her. Dressed similarly like herself in a short jean skirt, cowgirl boots and a cami to give off that western sort of feel – something about the theme for the night apparently, from what Kagome had told her – said woman was grinning down at her phone with a soft blush on her cheeks, biting her lower lip as her fingers flew across the screen, no doubt typing a text message to her the new man in her life. Sango hadn’t met him yet, and every time she asked about him, Kagome would blush darkly and dodge the subject.

Not very unusual behavior for her friend, if Sango was being honest with herself. Kagome had always been reserved and shy, easily flustered and quick to stutter out an excuse if she was feeling embarrassed or awkward in a situation. So the fact that Kagome had chosen here of all places to meet their friend was very strange, to say the least. Still, despite herself, Sango was curious and knowing Kagome would just avoid the question again if she asked, she resigned herself to wait as patiently as she could for this friend of hers to show up.

Well…at least the seats were comfortable and the alcohol was good. And also free. Sango frowned. Wait a minute, how the hell—

Unbidden the lights shut off, plunging the club into darkness and instinctively Sango knew the show was about to begin. The lights lining the edge of the stage started glowing and there was a tangible buzz in the air, a heavy anticipation that blanketed the eagerly awaiting patrons. Sango was surprised to find herself actually a little excited, sitting up straight in her chair, staring hard at the dark stage and…

Wait a minute. She squinted, leaning forward. She could see figures on the stage, dark silhouettes moving into a triangular formation with one person in the front and four more branching out behind him. Her heart rate increased when she realized it was the dancers—the strippers. Ohmygod she was about to see a strip show—

Beside her Kagome could hardly contain herself, biting down on her lip to counting her squeal of excitement as she bounced a little in her seat. Though it was dark, she could just barely make out Sango’s face and she grinned from ear to ear to see her attentively staring at the stage, looking just about as excited as she felt.

Kagome couldn’t wait to see her friend’s face when she told her one of those dark figures standing motionless on the stage was her boyfriend.

Throughout the club, all the speakers hummed as the volume was cranked up, but at first there was nothing but static. Every few seconds a brief burst of music broke through before fading back to incomprehensible white noise, as if a radio dial was being turned to find that perfect frequency. This went on for another few seconds before the faint twang of a guitar was audible, the notes growing louder until an undoubtedly southern melody could be heard clearly above the gentle crackling of the static.

No lyrics accompanied the melody, no voice crooning out words of country roads, sweet potato pie, or mama. Instead all that could be heard was just the strumming of the guitar getting louder while steadily growing faster, the anticipation building, thrumming through the joint and creating a charged, restless energy until—

Silence.

A crackle, followed by an incomprehensible jumble of words, as if several radio stations were playing at once burst from the speakers, and then it was followed in short order by a widely familiar, but altered recording.

“Th-th-there’s a snake in my—”

A husky and positively sinful masculine laugh abruptly cut it off, echoing seductively throughout the club, and the wicked sound sent pleasant shivers down the backs of damn near every single female patron in the audience. Warmth pooled low in Kagome’s belly and she bit her lip because she knew who that laugh belonged to.

And then finally - finally - everyone’s attention was directed toward the stage as one by one, the dark silhouettes that were standing immobile were suddenly illuminated starting with the two in the back. The middle figures were next, first left, then right, and then finally at the head of their triangular formation, silver hair, golden eyes, and a positively devilish smirk was revealed on who was no doubt the star attraction of the joint.

While the patrons went wild and hollered their vivid appreciation, Sango’s mouth dropped and her face went very red as she took in the five figures standing on the stage. While fringed brown chaps coupled with black western boots concealed their legs, it was very obvious they wore nothing underneath them by way of the black briefs that were clearly visible. A matching brown suede western vest hung open from their shoulders with nothing else and expensive looking Stetson hats completed the cowboy look and honestly, Sango was kind of digging the look and she really wanted to know who the one with the small ponytail and charming smile was…

The response was deafening: riotous applause, exuberant cheering, screaming, shrieking, high-pitched whistling erupted from the audience. From beneath the brim of a sleek black Stetson, amber eyes found and zeroed in on a head of dark hair and melted caramel eyes in short order, sitting at her table as he knew she would be. Their eyes met and she smiled, a secretive curl of her lips that was returned with a flash of fang and a suggestive wink.

His girl blushed and bit her lip and fuck she was so goddamn beautiful.

If he’d bothered to take his eyes off of her for even a second, he would have noticed her friend beside her choking on her drink at the exchange, clearly shocked.

The beat dropped and forcing himself to tear his gaze away from her, Inuyasha adjusted the microphone headset – specially designed for his ears in mind – closer to his mouth and with one hand holding the brim of the black Stetson on his head, the other hooked into his chaps, and he waited for the next cue before starting the memorized choreography.

“Boys,” he spoke into the mic and behind him, his “boys” moved to the beat with him, holding a similar pose with one hand holding their hat and the other hooked in their chaps.

“Now, remember what we’re here for,” Inuyasha continued, purposely adding a southern drawl to his voice that elicited several hoots of appreciation from the crowd. “This ain’t no half-cocked or eight second rodeo. Ain’t no kiddie rides or little ponies up in here.”

In sync, Inuyasha led his fellow performers into a quick country two-step the flexed the muscles of his abdomen. More whistles and hollers of female appreciation were issued as he drawled, “Nah, what we got here is the real deal. We got them one of a kind”—slide a hand down the stomach—"large and in charge”—hip roll—“rough and ready”—step back, a little spin—“motherfucking stallions.”

Cheering amidst rowdy laughter and shrieked encouragement was the response to that and Inuyasha gave a fang-baring smirk, his low chuckle rising above the din of the crowd thanks to the mic close to his mouth.

“And believe me when I say,” he continued, kicking out his booted feet and transitioning smoothly into an easy line dance, “there ain’t nothin’ half-cocked about ‘em.”

More screaming and cheering, wolf-whistles and cat-calls abound and yeah Inuyasha had to admit, he was soaking it up like a fucking sponge.

“Now, ladies and gentlemen.”

The five men spun around in a brief circle and with practiced ease caught the prop that was tossed to each of them from off stage, not missing a beat before whirling back around to face the audience and straddling what they held in their hands—a hobby horse toy, the one where a stuffed horse’s head was on the end of a stick.

“A gentle reminder”—Inuyasha turned sideways, tilted his prop so the horse head at the end of the stick was pointing upward, and very suggestively stroked his hand up the wooden shaft—"that you must be this tall to ride”—feminine giggling, shrieks of laughter and more hollering met his ears at that and he grinned—“and that any lightheadedness or tingling sensations are completely normal.”

More hilarity and cheering, the crowd restless, impatient, so Inuyasha decided it was time to wrap up his little speech. After performing some rather provocative dance moves with their props that had every woman in the building feeling rather flushed, the five performers tossed their props back to the hidden stagehands and while Inuyasha strutted to the end of the stage, the other four took position behind him, preparing to put on one hell of a show.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, cowboys and cowgirls,” he began and once more locked eyes with his girl, a devastating smirk curling his lips upward at her flushed and star-struck expression. “We kindly ask that you sit back, hang on tight, and enjoy…”

Strobe lights flashed, spotlights swiveled and bathed him in an ethereal glow, and the smirk that stretched across his face was all fang as golden eyes flashed from beneath the rim of his hat, dangerous, alluring, positively wicked.

“…the ride,” Inuyasha finished in a husky growl and as the crowd once more roared their vivid appreciation, the hanyou whipped off his headset before tossing it carelessly to the side and then fucking moonwalked back to his position, tipping his hat forward so only his smirking mouth was visible as he waited for the cue. It started only seconds later, the music reverberating throughout the club, and as one the performers started the largely anticipated show.

Only vaguely did Kagome recognize the beat that was pouring from the speakers, some kind of remix of the song The Git Up by Blanco Brown but it hardly mattered. They could have been dancing to something as ridiculous as the big butt song and Kagome would have been just as captivated, as enthralled as she was right now watching her man gyrate and pivot on the stage like he owned it. A lot of his moves were familiar now – both from being considered a regular here now and from his private little shows he gave her after hours – and Kagome suspected no matter how many time she watched him work those hips and roll that toned stomach, it would still have the same effect on her every single time, warmth pooling in her belly, heart beating fast, and a familiar ache developing between her legs.

Stealing a glance at the woman beside her, Kagome was thrilled to see that Sango was in a very similar state, her face redder than she could ever remember seeing, mouth parted in awe, and if she wasn’t mistaken, her gaze was focused solely on Inuyasha’s friend Miroku. Kagome had met him shortly after she and Inuyasha had started seeing each other officially and though he could come on a little strong at times with his wandering hands and flirty nature, he was a good man and Kagome genuinely liked him. Charming, witty, and with a surprising sense of humor, she knew he would be perfect for Sango and she decided to ask Inuyasha what he thought about setting them up.

But not until later, though, because right now Kagome’s attention was thoroughly ensnared by one silver-haired, golden-eyed Adonis as he drifted across the stage, flexing muscle, smirking devilishly, and every so often tossing her little winks that never failed to make her erupt into elated, girlish giggling.

By the time the first show of the night ended a disappointingly short five minutes later, all five performers were sans their vest and chaps, strutting around on the stage in naught but their boots, briefs, and Stetsons and looking utterly fucking delicious while they did. For the finale, the toy horse props had been made a second appearance and then the show had taken a very unexpected, but also very appreciated twist that had captive audience roaring with applause, cat-calls, wolf-whistles, and general pandemonium as every woman collectively lost her shit.

Each performer, with Inuyasha going last, briefly disappeared behind a screen that had been discreetly rolled onto the stage while the audience had been distracted by sexy dance moves and when they emerged, the briefs were gone and the hobby horse was held between their legs in such a way that the stuff horse head deliberately concealed any stallions from their screaming fans.

The dancers bowed and in another move that delighted the audience, each man removed their Stetson and tossed it into the crowd. Predictably they were fought over, women clamoring over each other to get to the precious souvenirs first, but Kagome ignored them all. Conveniently Inuyasha’s black hat found its way to her and she blew him a kiss as she placed it on her head to which her man winked at her with a grin before the stage went dark.

Giggling, Kagome turned to Sango to ask how she enjoyed the show and found that she was holding he own hat in her lap, a flush on her cheeks and a slight smile curling her lips. She recognized it was the one Miroku had been wearing and she smirked. Her little plan might be easier than she’d anticipated.

“Sooo,” Kagome drawled, not even bothering to hide her smirk as raised a brow at her friend. “Nice hat. It’s safe to say that you enjoyed the show?”

Flush darkening, Sango muttered something and proceeded to ignore her friend by putting the hat on her head and tugging it down over her blushing face. Kagome cackled and without removing the hat, Sango flipped her off. Kagome cackled louder.

Deciding to spare her friend further embarrassment, Kagome left to get them two more drinks and by the time she returned, Sango had cooled down and smiled her thanks when Kagome set a Manhattan down in front of her.

“Yes,” Sango sighed as nursed her drink and her smile was almost dreamy. “Yes, I admit it. I enjoyed it.”

Kagome simply waggled her brows and sipped at her amaretto sour, but before she could say anything else, she spotted a familiar figure, now dressed in simple jeans and a t-shirt, weaving through the sea of tables and people, fending off grasping hands of appreciative women. His honeyed gaze was zeroed on her, however, not once looking at any of the women that tried to get his attention and Kagome felt that familiar warmth bloom in her chest. She felt it somewhere significantly lower as well, but that was nothing new and she tried to ignore it as her boyfriend approached with his signature smirk.

“Ladies,” Inuyasha greeted and bent down to sweep his girl into hot kiss, caging her in his arms with a hand on either arm rest. “Baby,” he rumbled, pulling away and dropping a kiss to her forehead.

“Hmmm,” Kagome hummed and tugged him back down for another one. Inuyasha chuckled and happily obliged, getting lost in her taste, her scent, the way she twined her fingers in his hair and snagged his ear to massage the sensitive flesh. He growled, lifting a hand to cup the back of her head, tilting it back so he could plunder the sweetness of her mouth with his tongue, nip her lips with his fangs, and suck the soft flesh into his mouth. Kagome moaned for him and the sound went straight to his—

“Inuyasha, get your tongue out of your girlfriend’s mouth. You’re being rude.”

With a grunt, the hanyou reluctantly pulled away and leveled a peeved glare at the source of the voice.

Unfazed, Miroku stared blandly back, arms crossed while next to him, eyes impossibly wide and mouth open in shock as she sputtered incoherently, Sango gawked incredulously at them.

Rolling his eyes, Inuyasha grumbled something but nonetheless complied, dropping one last kiss to his girl’s mouth before standing up and gesturing at Kagome to stand up. She did, and he took her place in the chair before tugging her back down to sit on his lap. His arms went around her waist as his chin rested on her shoulder and Kagome wiggled around to get comfortable before resuming sipping her drink, calm as you please, like she hadn’t just been making out with her hot as fuck stripper boyfriend.

Recovering from her shock while Miroku not so discreetly looked down Sango’s shirt at her cleavage, Sango jabbed an accusatory finger at her friend and screeched, “Your boyfriend is a stripper!”

Kagome blinked and smiled a mite sheepishly. “Um…uh, so, Sango, remember when I said we were meeting someone here?” She chuckled nervously. “Well…”

Without warning Sango snatched her drink off the table and drained it in three large gulps.

Miroku practically had fucking heart-eyes as he gawked at the woman who had just downed a strong cocktail like it was nothing.

“Fuck, marry me,” he murmured, barely aware of what he was even saying and then he promptly forgot how to breathe when the woman of his dreams suddenly swung her gaze his way, racked her eyes up and down his body in an evident once over, and then made a noise of approval as her eyes lingered somewhere considerably lower than his face.

Feeling warm not only from the booze in her system but also lingering effects from the captivating show featuring the very sexy man before her, Sango abruptly got to her feet and pegged her best friend with a look. Kagome blinked and innocently widened her eyes. Sango snorted.

“You,” she said, eyes narrowing. “We’ll talk later. And you.” She spun around and jabbed her finger in Miroku’s face. His eyes crossed as he stared at it. “You’re coming with me.”

Then with that, completely ignoring the couple nestled in the chair with matching knowing looks on their faces, Sango stormed off, head held high and like an obedient puppy Miroku followed after her, nearly stumbling in his wake and ignoring the hands that reached out to him as he passed by.

Kagome and Inuyasha stared after her, one gaze amused, one slightly bewildered.

“Inuyasha,” Kagome deadpanned. “Meet Sango.”

Inuyasha snorted and maneuvered her around on his lap until her legs were draped over the armrest and her arms were around his neck. He buried his face in her neck and kissed the soft skin, ears flicking at her soft sigh.

“I think Miroku likes her,” he pointed out a little needlessly since it was obvious the guy was already half-way in love with her. His friend always did like a woman that could hold her liquor well and Sango’s first impression had been stellar.

“Hmm,” Kagome hummed and her friend was the last thing on her mind as she slipped her hand beneath his shirt and ran her fingers across the hard lines of her man’s defined abdomen. “I like you.”

Inuyasha smirked and kissed his way up her neck. “Yeah?”

“Mmmhm.” Scratching lightly with her nails just to feel him shiver against her, Kagome slipped her other hand into his hair and found one of his ears, fingers stroking the soft flesh. “You wanna know a secret?”

“Tell me,” Inuyasha growled into her ear and nibbled on the tender lobe before trailing his tongue along the delicate line of her jaw.

Breath hitching in her throat as his devious mouth licked and nipped at her skin, Kagome swallowed back a moan and slyly slipped her fingers further south to flutter over the crotch of his jeans as she leaned up and confessed her secret in a sultry purr.

Inuyasha’s entire body stiffened as her naughty words registered in his brain and he groaned, head falling back to loll against the backrest of the chair as his devil of a girlfriend snickered impishly on his lap. Damn, but his girl was dangerous, and fuck if he didn’t absolutely fucking love it.

“Well?” Kagome purred and he could feel her warm breath wash over his jaw as she laved the skin with soft kisses. “How ‘bout it, cowboy? Shall we go for a nice hard ride on your stallion, or you gonna make me settle for a boring little pony show?”

Her fingers flitted over the hardening crotch of his jeans again and she felt an answering pulse between her legs, thighs squeezing together to relieve some of the building tension.

With a low growl designed to tell her just what he thought about her cheeky little teasing, Inuyasha surged forward, caught her mouth in a hard, demanding kiss and then suddenly he was on his feet and dragging her toward the employees only backstage entrance. Breathless, aching, and trembling, it was all Kagome could do to keep up with him, shamelessly admiring the flexing muscles of his back and his tight ass in those jeans, but then her back was suddenly against a wall, her hanyou had wedged himself between her legs, and his hand was up her skirt, claws hooking in her damp panties and tearing the fabric completely off.

Kagome gasped but it turned into a moan when her lover hitched her thighs around his hips and then hastily unfastened his jeans, freeing the stallion that was rearing and ready to go from within. He cursed, she laughed, and the next minute he was inside her, grinding her into the wall, swallowing her moans with his mouth and returning them with heated growls of pleasure.

He fucked her against the wall, in a rarely used dark hallway somewhere behind the stage, and as Kagome clung to his shoulders and begged him for more, harder, faster, please, Inuyasha snarled and complied as her naughty little confession rang in his ears over and over, fanning the flames of his passion, his hunger for this woman all-consuming and never ending.

“I want your full cocked, large and in charge stallion inside me in the next thirty seconds and it had better be longer than any eight second ride.”

i want you all to know hat i could not. stop. laughing. as i was writing Inuyasha’s sexy little speech and that i am very proud with how it turned out rofl also yes i did make Inuyasha line dance anD I’M NOT SORRY 

on another note, i didn’t put as much detail into the dancing this time because one it’s a fucking pain in the ass to write out detailed choreography; two, the actual dancing wasn’t a huge part of the plot, and three, i’m a lazy piece of shit and just wanted this done. also yes i’m aware that last line is kinda lime and anti climatic but i couldn’t think of anything else lmao 

for anyone curious, the eight second thing references bull riding. a cowboy must stay on a bucking bull for eight seconds without touching any part of the bull or yourself or using any spurs, ropes, ect.  

#save a horse ride a cowboy #inuyasha #inukag #oneshot #keizfanfiction #fanfiction #fuck #now i remember why i never wrote a second part #this was a MASSIVE PAIN IN THE ASS TO WRITE

[lazella]

Infinity Stones AU: In Which They Met Spiderman...And Venom

I finally finished this one, just in time to relieve your Coronavirus blues. I really hope you enjoy. :)

Yuya and Yuma were having duel, no holograms as they were still working on making the Duel Disks compatible, trying to iron out the difference in rules and card types so that they could do a battle royal later. Yusaku was rather helpful in figuring out how the make the game fair between all the different playstyles. Though no one defeated Yugi, he won every time. But for now he was just watching enjoying the show. Yuma was pretty good but sometimes he would try to ask Astral for help who rather sarcastically reminded Yuma he needed to play on his own. Who knew spirits could be sassy? Yusei was in the lab with Tony working on something, they had been rather secretive about it. Judai was also spectating the match.

“Wait…how do Pendulum Monsters work again?” Yuma asked for the fifth time.

Yuya sighed and prepared to explain again only to be interrupted by a loud thump on the window followed by a voice.

“Oh hey there…loving the hair dye.”

Judai blinked few times, then yelled out back towards the labs, “Tony! There’s a guy in red spandex on the window! Not sure how he got there!”

There was some loud crash noise before Tony and Yusei entered the main room, Tony gave a look at the spandex person, and sighed, “How many times have I told you to call ahead and use the door?”

“But it’s a lot more fun to go swinging around the New York skyline!” The red figure argued back.

“Just go use the door!” Tony sighed, “Boys…meet Spiderman. And yes…he does what a spider does.”

“I’m am also very friendly!” Spiderman insisted as he enter the ‘proper’ way, “And also Mr. Stark why do they have their hair dyed! You wouldn’t let me dye my hair!”

“Believe it or not that is their natural color and no this is not permission to dye your hair.” Tony responded

“But I wear a full face mask! No one would know it was me!”

“You wanted to dye your hair RAINBOW!!!”

“It was going to be for a good cause!”

Yusei whispered to Yugi, “Do they sound like father and son?”

“They do but I don’t think Tony-san has any children.” Yugi said.

“His father tendencies are strong…” Judai added.

“He does a poor job of hiding it…” Yusaku said.

“You think he has other kids he may have ‘adopted’?” Yuya asked.

“I think it’s likely….” Astral said, “I believe he has adopted all of you.”

“Wha?” Yuma was perplexed, “But I still have parents!”

“WHY IS THERE A GHOST?!?!?!”

“Oh…he has noticed me.” The sass was back with Astral.

“Kid calm down….” Tony sighed, “That’s not a ghost…the short one can tell you the full details later.”

“I’m not short!” Yuma protested.

“But why are they here? They don’t look like heroes…” Spiderman asked.

“They have the Infinity Stones.”

“Ooooooooohhhhh…..that makes sense.” Spiderman said, “Think they can help me out?”

Tony arched an eyebrow, “What sort of problem do you have that might need the power of the Infinity Stones for?”

“I think I spotted Venom running amok earlier.”

“What?” Tony froze, “What you mean that you think you saw Venom today?! He’s in lock up!”

“That why I came here! To be sure!”

“Okay fine….” Tony sighed, “JARVIS…can you contact…”

Actually sir….I just received a message stating that Venom has escaped confinement.

“WHEN!?”

Four hours ago.

“AND THEY DIDN’T THINK IT WAS IMPORTANT TO CALL ME?!” Tony stormed over to a wall, pushed a button, and a compartment containing six gauntlets popped out. He tossed on to each of the boys, “Put these on, they are designed to help channel the power of the Infinity Stones, they are prototypes so be careful, now let’s hunt an alien symbiote.” He then stormed off to get suited up.

Judai turned to Spiderman, “So…what’s going on?”

“I’ll explain as we head out…” Spiderman let out a sigh.

………………………

“So we’re are dealing with an alien…”

“Yep…”

“That’s also a parasite.”

“Yep…”

“And it has favorite people it likes to attach to…including yourself.”

“Pretty much.”

“Cool!”

“It’s not cool!” Spiderman rubbed his temples, “It can corrupt and or kill the host!”

“So we still get to fight it right?” Nothing seemed to be fazing Judai at the moment. Spiderman wondered why he was left alone with this kid while Mr. Stark had the others spread out around town with scanners trying to find Venom.

“I rather just bottle it up and not touch it…” Spiderman sighed, “Just thinking about it touching me gives me shivers.”

Judai’s face turned serious, “How so?”

“It gets in your head…tells you things that sound appealing…” Spiderman explained, “But it makes you do stuff you normally don’t do…not to mention it kills most people it tries to attach too.”

“Oooohhhhh…I see…” Judai’s face turned to what Spiderman thought was understanding, “I can see why you didn’t want to deal with it by yourself.”

“It usually doesn’t end well facing Venom alone.” Spiderman said, “Mr. Stark always insists that I now call him up anytime I need to deal with him.”

Judai, can you hear me? Yugi’s voice came over the commlink.

“What is it Yugi-san?”

We spotted Venom. Three blocks east of your location and he’s heading your way fast.

“Got it!” Spiderman was on alert.

We’ll rendezvous as soon as we can. Please don’t do anything stupid please…Tony’s pleading voice came over the commlink.

“No promises…” Judai replied looking over to the direction that Venom was reported to be coming from. In the distance he could see a black figure coming towards them fast. He could see that the silhouette looked like a bulkier version of Spiderman but seemed to be having trouble keeping form.

That thing looks disgusting…. Yubel muttered.

“Looks like a sentient blob trying to copy you Spiderman.” Judai said.

“I guess he doesn’t have a host yet…which is why he’s gunning for me…” Spiderman gulped as Venom leaped for them.

“I’ve got your back!” Judai activated his duel disk and summoned Neos who punched the symbiote disrupting its form making it rain alien goop.

“It’s not going to be that easy…” Spiderman looked around wearingly as the blobs worked back towards each other.

“Neos! Keep the parts separated!” Judai ordered while he ran with Spiderman trying to keep distance between them and Venom jumping down the fire escape two steps at a time.

“Judai!” The brown-haired duelist looked up to see Yusei being dropped off by Tony carrying some equipment. “Mr. Stark has a plan to recapture Venom! Lure him to the nearby park so we can trap him!”

Spiderman seemed to recognize the equipment that Yusei is carrying, “Are those the high frequency disruptors?”

“Part of the plan,” Yusei explained, “Mr. Stark explain Venom’s weakness to me…” He handed Judai and Spiderman what looked like hand held cannons, “I can see you have Neos fighting Venom right now Judai but this is in case he tries attaching to anyone. Now get Neos to bring it to the park.”

“You heard him Neos!” Judai yelled out to his warrior. Neos gave a nod and began taunting the pieces of Venom into following him. The blobs let out a garbled shriek but took the bait. Spiderman grabbed Judai under the shoulders and began web slinging towards the park.

Yuma, Yuya, don’t take this wrong way but I need you two to stay back. Tony’s voice crackled over the commlink.

WHAT?! WHY?! Yuma screech nearly made everyone deaf.

Because dad said so!

“He admitted it finally!” Judai laughed.

W-What I meant was……that I don’t want Venom to be eating you two as a snack….Tony unconvincingly corrected himself.

You know they are going to get involved anyway. Yusei chimed in.

I think this is a proven point by now. Yugi chimed in next.

“Is this normal for you guys?” Spiderman asked Judai.

“Pretty much…” Judai shrugged, “I don’t think Tony is used to the fact that us kids saved our worlds a few times over, so we have little fear of anything.”

“I want to hear that story later.” Spiderman said as they touched down in the park with the Venom blobs hot on their tails.

“Can’t wait to test this out…” Judai grinned as he placed the Power Stone in the prototype gauntlet, the metal gaining a purple hue as it charged up with power. He ran towards the nearest blob and gave it a good punch turning the blob into something that had the consistency of black tar, but it did stop moving.

“Just do that again!” Spiderman cried out as tried to web down the incoming blobs. He spied Yusei setting up a perimeter with the equipment Mr. Stark had given him so he knew that he had to keep Venom’s attention away from him. Ironman himself had made an appearance himself blasting chunks of Venom with hypersonic frequencies. Overall, it was looking like they were having a handle on the situation. That is until Spiderman felt something shove him hard sending him flying across the park. When the world stopped spinning, he sat up and saw Judai trying to pull something black off his arm.

Black…on his arm….

Oh crap….

“MR. STARK! VENOM’S ON JUDAI!!!!!!” Spiderman yelled as loud as he could.

Within an instant, Ironman was on the scene trying to blast Venom off Judai. A task that was proving to be difficult as the other Venom blobs were darting for Judai and the glob that was on him was spreading fast.

“Get away Tony! I’M STARTING TO LOSE CONTROL!!!” Judai’s voice had already started distorting.

“Venom or Haou?” Ironman asked.

“BOTH!!!”

Spiderman had no idea what was going on but judging by the fact Mr. Stark immediately jumped back from Judai was a sign that it was not good. Wind started kicking up around Judai as he let out an inhumane growl and Spiderman could of sworn his eyes changed to a gold color.

“What’s going on!!!!” Yugi had arrived with the rest of the boys all looking shocked.

“Venom’s got Judai and it seems to be in an argument with that dark side of him you guys told me about.” Ironman explained, “Yusei’s almost done setting up the destabilizers and containment but we need to keep Vemon here and not hijack Judai’s body.”

“The Mind Stone trick is not going to work this time is it…” Yusaku glumly stated.

“Probably not…” Yugi frowned, “Yuma, can you do that fusion thing? You may need the extra protection.”

“Astral says if Yuya get set up the field we’ll be all set.” Yuma explained.

“I’ll add a barrier as well just in case…” Yuya focused on his gauntlet with the Reality Stone as a golden field surrounded the park.

Now Spiderman really had no idea what was going on. Even more so when it seemed that Yuma started glowing all sorts of colors and transformed into a really cool looking warrior with plated wings wielding two swords. He was so totally asking for details about that later.

“Yuma, you and I are on close combat!” Ironman started barking orders, “Yugi, Yuya, and Spiderman are on ranged attacks. Yusaku, you fall back with Yusei to make sure the equipment is ready to go on my signal!”

The team immediately acted on the orders. Spiderman watched as Yugi and Yuya used those cards they had to summon more things, a magician in purple armor and a red dragon attacking Judai/Venom when they could. Yuma and Ironman were keeping close slicing any stray bits of Venom that tried to attack or try to attach to a tree in hopes of escape. Spiderman himself was focusing on trapping any limbs that look close to striking anyone.

“Judai! Fight it off!” Yugi cried out.

“I’M TrYINg!!!! IT FeELS LIkE NaiLS IN MY heAD!!” Judai was switching between his own voice, an eerie echo of his own, and Venom’s voice.

“Hang on for one more minute!” Yusei yelled out, “We’re just about ready!”

Judai let out a growl that sounded like an okay and managed to get his uncover side of his body closer to the ground holding the Venom covered arm up.

“Everyone fall back!” Ironman yelled out as everyone got to a safe distance.

When everyone was clear, Yusei activated the sonic disruptors. The effect was instantaneous Venom shrieking, trying in vain to stay attached to Judai. The brown hair boy has having none of it. Judai’s golden eyes met Venom’s.

“If you do not wish to be disintegrated into sand…release me at once!”

With that, Venom finally released Judai. Yusaku immediately activated the containment field trapping the black blob.

Spiderman collapsed in relief; it was finally over.

Ironman helped Judai up and steadied him on his feet, “How did Venom even latch on to you?”

“It was gunning for Spiderman and I just shoved him out of the way.”

Spiderman was shocked, “You…you didn’t have to do that…I could have handled Venom.”

“You told me about your experience and trust me…I have personal experience and I’m sure you didn’t want to go through that again.” Judai just gave him a grin.

“B-But why?”

“It’s what we do for friends.” Was the reply.

“But we just met!”

“Get used to it,” Yugi said, “If Judai has named you a friend then you are a friend.”

“No point in fighting it.” Yusei added.

Spiderman decided to just roll with it. These guys seemed fun to hang out with anyway. It was tough being the youngest member of the Avengers. Finally, he had someone he can nerd with.

“Alright…I’m going to get Venom all bagged up and back into containment. You all head back to the tower and make Judai get looked over by medical. I am not in the mood for surprise side effects.” Tony said between a sigh and a groan.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine….” Judai said in a joking manner.

Tony just gave him a look, “You’ve got a superpowered, dark, alter ego in your head. I am not taking a chance that he picked up a thing or two from Venom”

Judai sighed in defeat, no point in arguing with Tony now.

“Don’t worry Mr. Stark, I’ll get him back to the tower and to medical,” Spiderman offered, “I’ll even web him to the bed if I need to!”

Tony grinned, “I knew I can count on you kid, we’ll catch up as soon as we’re done here.”

Spiderman gave a salute, scooped up Judai before he could make any sort of protest, and immediately began web slinging back to the tower.

“Do we really have to travel this way!?” Judai yelled over the wind.

“But it’s the route with the best views!”

“If you’re right side up! You’ve got me over your shoulders like a sack of potatoes!”

“It will just be a few minutes and I’ll keep you company while you get checked out by the doctor. Maybe you can show me that card game you were playing.”

That immediately brightened Judai’s mood, “You bet!”

#infinity stones au #yugioh #avengers #gx #5ds #zexal #arcv #arc v #vrains #yugi mouto #judai yuki #yusei fudo #yuma tsukumo #yuya sakaki #yusaku fujiki #tony stark #ironm #peter parker #spiderman #venom

[aethelar]

So, uh, a while back you wrote a thing for Magizoologist!Graves and Head of Magical Security!Newt. I found the Newt piece, but did you ever write the one for Graves?

Nonnie, I did not. Very remiss of me. We shall rectify; in part one, we had Newt Scamander, Head of Security at MACUSA - now let’s bring on part two and introduce Percival Graves the Magizoologist.

How, you might ask.

Percival Graves of the boss-man suits, the judging eyebrows that judge without shame, the complete lack of chill and the vocabulary that is primarily swear words - that’s the Graves we’re going with, and we’re asking him to abandon his promising career as an auror in favour of playing Mummy to a host of, of assorted highly illegal most likely viciously poisonous things.

Graves does not have the background that would suit a magizoologist. His entire resume can be summed up by: grew up with two dogs, once managed to redirect a sparrow outside after it had got stuck in the office.

So. How does he become a magizoologist?

By accident.

Newt joins MACUSA in the early days of 1919 and, although he doesn’t cross paths with Graves, his mere presence has an impact. Newt takes the spot on the Criminal Investigations team that Graves was angling for but that’s fine, that’s ok. At least two of the of the other teams are interested in the promising new recruit and have offered jobs to the latest heir of the Graves’ vaunted line.

Three teams, if you count the Traffic team, but Graves does not count the Traffic team, so. Two other teams. Special Ops try and tempt him with a frankly ridiculous wage packet to join their diplomatic missions, and let’s face it, Graves is tempted. International diplomacy is what makes and shapes the world, and America might be newer on the scene than some of the other magical nations but the Graves name will still carry some weight. He could do a lot of good. He could also royally fuck up and cause the next world war, because maybe his however-many generations back ancestor was good with words but Graves himself finds punching things a much better solution. With that in mind, he ends up in the Defence and Response Corps and, blunt and straightforward as DaRC are, he thrives.

Maybe in another world he’d learn how to talk the talk to back up his walking the walk and be part of the ICW, but in this world his job consists of identifying threat, taking threat down with extreme prejudice and/or explosions, and shielding the fuck out of whatever target he was sent in to protect. Nothing gets passed his shields. They’re multi-layered frequency-shifted beauties and they earn him the nickname Gravestone for how immovable he becomes once he plants himself, and in four years of working with DaRC he never once loses a target. Not once.

In his fifth year, his target is a short, scrappy woman beset by a pack of Black Dogs. The malevolent ghosts come out at night, baying their omens of death and plaguing the people of the town - three children have already vanished, stolen, most likely, by the evil creatures. The woman is running her magic dry trying to keep them away, and though she’s reluctant to call in DaRC she fears she has no choice if she wants to survive.

That’s how she puts it, at least. Graves turns up, and something sits wrong with him, but - well, he’s not with Criminal Investigations. He’s with Defence. He digs in, builds his shields, and waits for nightfall. The sun sinks, the temperature drops, and he turns his lumos down low to preserve his night vision. The thermos of coffee in his pack has a careful combination of warming charms and space-distortion, and it holds enough to keep him going for several nights in a row, but - if the dragon-fire flares do their job - he’ll only need it for one. He waits. Occasionally the woman peers suspiciously from her window or opens the door to check on him under the thin guise of offering him tea. Once she starts singing loudly, off-key, to a song she doesn’t know the words to. There’s a thump, a hissed shut up, one more line of the song and then silence.

Roughly twenty minutes after midnight, the Black Dogs arrive. The pack is a dozen strong, maybe more, and under the grey moonlight they look pallid and sickly. Their fur is tattered, their eyes glowing baleful red; one of them has bleeding stumps in place of its ears, another flickers between ghost and corporeal, a third has too much skin for its bones and the folds make it misshapen and grotesque. Graves raises his wand and lets one hand hover over his flares, but though they circle him, they don’t attack.

Inside the house, a soft whimper. A hissed reprimand. A slap, and a stifled gasp of pain.

The Black Dogs hover just out of reach, their crouched forms as tall as Graves at the shoulder, their pupil-less stares heavy and expectant. They’re all here. All within reach, and he isn’t going to get a better shot. If he were doing his job, he’d burn the pack now and be done with it.

“Miss Glover,” he says into the charmed pin on the collar of his coat. “Remind me again why the dogs are targeting you?”

Her voice crackles back, high and angry. “They’re evil! Dark creatures, foul children-snatchers - they don’t need a reason!”

He hums, considering. They still haven’t attacked. “Some people say they protect children,” he says lightly. “Watch over them in the night, warn them away from danger. Guide them home when they get lost.”

There is a pause. The dogs are so still they barely move. Graves keeps his grip light on his wand and doesn’t breathe.

The spell she fires at his back is not unexpected and he twists easily to dodge it. The child standing behind her, eyes blank as he holds a jagged knife to his own throat, that Graves’ hadn’t predicted. He curses himself and stops his own spell before he fires it.

“I’ll kill him,” Glover says. “You think - you even think of firing, and I’ll tell him to do it.”

“The Imperius curse is illegal,” Graves grits out. “Under section 7 part C - “

She spits a hex at him and he dodges again, not daring to risk using his wand to deflect. “Go fuck yourself,” she snarls. “The law doesn’t protect no-majs, does it? I’ve done nothing wrong.” Graves’ mind races because that, that really doesn’t sound right, but he doesn’t know for sure, in this universe he hasn’t studied the laws enough to know, and if she’s right - if she’s right then legally, there’s not a damn thing he can do to her. MACUSA protects magicals. If the children aren’t magical he can’t act to protect them. That sounds bullshit, but the law says is a solid block he’s coming up against, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

She gestures impatiently at the silent, watchful dogs. “Well?” she prompts. “Don’t you have a job to do?”

Graves hesitates, but eventually lifts his wand slowly, hands outstretched to show her what he’s doing. “I need my spells,” he says cautiously, carefully not looking at the child-hostage in the doorway. Glover waves a negligent hand at him and he grits his teeth, thinks fuck it and resettles his wand in his grip, raises his magic in preparation for the spell -

and brings his shields crashing down.

The Black Dogs move as one. Graves dives for the kid, grabbing the blade and ripping it away. Behind him, Glover shrieks, firing one, two, three spells at the pack, but outside the protection of her house and wards she’s no match for them. She doesn’t fire a fourth spell.

When it’s done, the dogs paw at the doorstep, whining and plaintive until Graves goes in. He finds the other two children in the upstairs bathroom, huddled behind the shower curtain and armed with a half-empty bottle of shampoo. They cry when they see him, and cling to him, the girl in stoical silence, the boy asking again and again to go home. Graves carries them both downstairs to where the other boy is waiting, shell-shocked, on the front step, and when they won’t let go of him he carries them to their respective homes.

The dogs follow him every step. The no-majs don’t see them, of course, which is probably for the best - at least four of the dogs stayed with the kids, two with the first boy and one each with the children from the bathroom, circling the house like particularly ominous guard dogs. Graves doesn’t know what Glover wanted with the kids, what she used them for - he probably should have obliviated them just in case, but it’s unwise to obliviate wizards soon after traumatic experiences and he sees no reason why it would be different for no-majs.

When he gets back to the house he’s down to three dogs following him, and the witch - her corpse? - is gone. He pointedly doesn’t acknowledge his shadows, just checks the perimeter, shuts the front door, and apparates out.

He has the following morning off (he always does after working nights) and he uses it to pull the auror-issue law books from underneath the wonky table they’re propping up. By midday, he’s discovered that Glover was right; the law sees nothing wrong with kidnapping no-maj children and keeping them trapped in your upstairs bathroom. By two in the afternoon, he’s tracked down the precedence and the sub-clauses that make it legal to use the imperious curse on no-majs, so long as the statute of secrecy is upheld. By four, he’s several hours late for work, and is eighty percent certain that he could be prosecuted for murder and the use of dark creatures as a lethal weapon. DaRC will have to send out a second team, a full hit team to cleanse the area of the Black Dogs, Graves’ career is in ruins - if not his life, if Glover has enough family to push for his prosecution, and this whole being an auror to protect people schtick is sounding far more naive than it did this time yesterday.

By six, he’s packed what he wants from his cramped auror flat; by eight, he’s left his badge on the table and psyched himself up to walk out the door.

There are three dogs waiting for him when he steps out onto the street, each one as tall as he is with glowing, pupil-less eyes. The no-majs walk through them as though they aren’t even there.

“What, am I a kidnapped child now?” Graves jokes, but even to his own ears it falls flat. His entire life is  packed into a worn leather backpack and a standard-issue field belt with three night’s supply of hot coffee in one of the many enlarged pouches. He doesn’t know where he’s going, or what he’s doing, and he’s pretty sure he’s majorly fucked up. More than fucked up. He’s a murderer on the run in league with demonic ghost dogs. Fucked up doesn’t even begin to cover it.

The largest of the three dogs, thin and bony with a whip-like tail, turns to walk down the street. The other two follow, one on either side of Graves, their bodies surprisingly warm as they press him along. Graves only goes because he doesn’t have anywhere else to be. Because, right at that moment, he’s a little bit scared and a little bit disbelieving and a whole lot lost.

And, you know, Black Dogs are good at leading lost souls home.

(the first place they lead him is a construction site with a snallygaster chained behind the piles of steel girders, and Graves isn’t sure how the snallygaster ended up following him after he freed it but it did)

(the second place is a garden beset by knarls, and they move into one of the pouches on the utility belt which Graves really wishes they hadn’t done, but they’re there now and they don’t seem to be moving out)

(the third place is the sea, no creatures, no-one to save, just the empty beach and the open sea and Graves sits curled against the dog he’s called Sadie with the dog he’s called Spot sprawled over his feet while Snally the snallygaster plays with the waves and Knarls Ay Cee and Dee start digging in the sand. He lifts up Knarl Bee from where she’s curled, prickly side out, in his lap and it’s been a month, now, since the dogs led him away from New York.

“I,” he tells her, “am clearly insane.” She waves tiny clawed feet at him and wriggles her quills into all the sensitive parts of his palm. He nods in agreement. “That too, but mostly insane.”

Bee sneezes, and that settles it. If she’s staying, then the pouch is clearly an insufficient home for her - today a cold, who knows what she could catch tomorrow? Graves has spent most nights so far sleeping under his jacket with a shielding charm pulled over him, what kind of home life is this for a growing Knarl? He might not have Newt’s flare for fitting pocket dimensions into a suitcase but what he does have is a great deal of experience expanding his coffee thermos to unreasonable sizes and a handy field belt with a handily unspecified number of pouches on it. They’re meant for ammunition and flares and the odd potions vial, but they’ll do well enough. By the time the sun rises and his dogs fade into ghost-fog for the day he’s made enough space on his belt to carry half the population of Manhattan around with him, Snally has haughtily demanded trees in his pouch, and Bee has progressed to nesting in his hair and sticking quills in his ear whenever he moves his head too vigorously.

Graves might not know enough about magical creatures to know if this normal behaviour but it makes her happy, so why not.

He should probably learn about magical creatures though. Seeing as, you know, he appears to be collecting them.

Maybe.)

#percival graves #magizoologist!graves #reverse!au #fun fact #the knarls were originally One Two Three and Four #then I remembered that that's what the /crups/ were called #so now they're Ay Bee Cee and Dee #and let's pretend that it's Graves that has the naming abilities of a preschooler rather than me #my writing #Nonnie

[tarisilmarwen]

Hallow’s Eve

(Eeeeeey, it’s ya girl with a BBRae Halloween date as an official apology for all my Whumptober fics this month.  Figured we’d go out with some fluff, a little bit of mild creepy, and Beast Boy being the most precious and considerate of beans.

Enjoy!)

---

"I can't believe you talked me into this," Raven said with a light groan, nursing her temples as they stood in front of the entrance.

"Aww c'mon, Rae!  It'll be fun, I promise!" Beast Boy told her, bouncing on the balls of his feet as they waited in line.  "These guys are professional actors and stage directors!  They go all out!"  He grinned.  "It's honestly almost kind of like being in a horror movie."

Raven raised her face with a withering look.  "Beast Boy, do you remember the last time horror movies and I intersected?"

The changeling gave a full-body shudder.  "Couldn't forget.  But hey," he said, turning his grin on her, "just admit when you're scared this time and nothing will happen, right?"

Raven's hands lifted out in a helpless 'I guess' gesture.  She eyed the entrance to the haunted house, some trepidation beating inside her chest.

It didn't look all that scary from the outside; a rickety wooden facade like the entrance to a dilapidated Victorian mansion propped up around an open industrial door that led into a dark interior.  But her empathic senses crawled with discomfort from the aura of fear that surrounded the place, rising up and flaring with the screams that punctuated the night air.

Sensing her hesitation, Beast Boy stepped closer, sliding a gloved hand into hers.  She looked up into concerned green eyes.

"Hey," he said, all-serious.  "If you want to leave, just give a tug on my arm or something, and we can teleport out.  Okay?"

That did put her a little more at ease.  She exhaled slowly, feeling some of the tension winding out.

It was just a little haunted house.  None of the monsters were real.  No one was actually going to hurt her.  And Beast Boy would be right beside her the whole time.

"Okay..." she agreed softly.

He squeezed her hand, then skipped forward as the line moved.

Raven trailed behind him, tucking her arms under cloak to keep them out of the frigid air.

The haze of fear crowded her head as they got closer, but Raven muttered her mantra under her breath to keep it at bay, keep it from seeping in and infecting her own mind.  She focused on the tingling excitement inside Beast Boy.  He was clearly very eager for this.

She let her mouth quirk into a smile.  His anticipation was a warm patch of light in her senses.  Calming.  Radiant.

Maybe she'd be okay after all.

"Enjoy the show!" the chipper attendant at the entrance said as he took their tickets.

"We'll try," Raven snarked, eliciting a chuckle from Beast Boy.

***

She'd admit it; the work and effort put into this place was impressive.

The 'story', so far as she had gathered, was that they and the six-person group of attendees were paranormal investigators poking around a woman's reportedly haunted family house.  There was an actor playing the 'lead' investigator that accompanied their group from room to room, and a middle-aged woman playing the hapless owner of the house that dropped in on them often, sometimes with an occasional jump scare.

For the first fifteen or so minutes, they wandered from room to room of the house, their lead investigator stopping them to check on cameras and thermal equipment, try a call and response, or just chat with the owner about some of the weird things she'd seen going on in the house.  They lingered in each room until something appropriately creepy happened—usually a loud noise or a tipped or dropped object—and then the investigator or the owner would bustle them to the next room with the pretense of urgently needing to check something out.

It let the suspense and atmosphere sink in, and gave them plenty of time to admire and appreciate the sets.

Raven didn't think it was quite at movie-level quality but definitely in the realms of high-budget stage play.  The warehouse interior had been expertly transformed into an antique Victorian mansion, dust and grime and wear winding through every wall and surface but glimmers of a former majestic glory peeking through.

Beast Boy caught her studying a painted portrait on the wall—ostensibly of the owner's great-grandmother, a youthful-looking woman who looked almost exactly like her granddaughter—and leaned in with a grin and a conspiratorial whisper.

"So?  Whadda think so far?" he asked.

"You weren't kidding when you said they go all out," Raven admitted.  "I'd love to take a backstage tour just to see more of this set construction and propwork."

The changeling nodded.  "Thought you'd like that."

"I'll be honest, though, I kind of thought it would be a little scarier," Raven told him, crossing her arms.  She glanced at him.  "No offense," she added, since every scare thus far had caused Beast Boy to shriek like a little girl and cling to her cloak.

He shrugged.  "Eh, I startle easily.  Don't worry," he said.  "Around the twenty minute mark is usually when things get really crazy," he warned her.

Her heart gave an audible thump, but whether it was fear or excitement she couldn't tell.

She gripped Beast Boy's hand as their group followed the lead investigator to the next room.

True to the changeling's words, the scares started coming hard and fast, strobe lights flashing up on walls, projectors casting eerie images in the air of monstrous faces, actresses in lacy white dresses appearing suddenly in the corner and wailing.

Raven wrung Beast Boy's hand, and he flipped her cloak over his head more than once to cower underneath.  Her pulse jolted and raced, calming and ratcheting up again with a frequency she wasn't entirely sure was healthy.

Azarath Metrion Zinthos... Azarath Metrion Zinthos... she repeated to herself inside her head.

A pair of loud shrieks cracked her hearing and Raven flinched.  The two teen girls in front of them stabbed their arms and danced in place, dodging a pale hand that had reached out from under a table to grab at them.

Their momentary terror flared up in Raven's empathic senses, almost overpowering, but she shook her head, finding her center of calm again and letting the emotion pass harmlessly through her.

From under a corner of her cape, Beast Boy poked his head out, watching her in concern.

"You okay, Rae?" he whispered.

Raven's face relaxed.  "I'm fine," she assured him.  "A bit freaked out.  It's a little hard to concentrate."

He straightened, coming out from hiding.  "Do we need to tap out?"

She held up a hand, forcing herself to take long deep breaths and count inside her head for a moment.

"I can get through this," she insisted.  "Just.. give me a moment."

She pictured the starlit void that was her favorite mental meditation image, letting the other sounds fade away and her thoughts become tranquil.

The lead investigator paused for a moment, shining his flashlight back at them.  Out of character, he asked, "Hey Titans, you good?"

Beast Boy looked back at Raven.  She had her eyes closed, but a moment later she opened them again, looking much more confident.  She nodded.

The changeling flashed a thumbs up.

They followed the group into the next room.  There, their lead investigator conferred urgently with a junior assistant, who'd been taking audio samples of the kitchen.  They didn't get much time with him, however, as just as his dialogue seemed about to reveal something important the strobes flashed and the lights flickered and something or other came out of the darkness and... ate him or dragged him away or something.

Raven paid a quick glance down at her palm, sending dark matter over her fingers to check that her powers were still normal and the actor's disappearance hadn't been her fault.  Satisfied, she almost missed it when Beast Boy started tugging on her arm.  The owner's scream had come from somewhere upstairs and the lead investigator was leading the way, charging up the stairs towards the sound.

Their group thundered heavily after him, stopping short when they reached the upper landing and slowly crept through the first door.

Raven startled at the sight that met them inside, a blurted profanity escaping her.

"Shit!" she exclaimed, to Beast Boy's shock.

"Raven!" he gasped, appalled.

The owner was standing off to the side with a creepy smile, with candles burning on the points of a pentagram circle on the floor behind her.

In a calm voice, she explained how calling them there to investigate the haunting had just been a ruse, that she was in fact the ancient grandmatron pictured on the wall downstairs, and that long ago she had made a deal with dark forces to extend her youth and lifespan.  The deal required ritualistic sacrifices, naturally, and so their group was in fact just the latest round of victims.

Raven's heart raced through the whole exposition dump, feeling things hit a little too close for comfort.

Women in white appeared all around them, boxing them in and coming closer, and the lead investigator pushed at their backs, shouting, "Go!  Go!" and urging them to run the last few rooms towards the exit.

They lost him somewhere behind them, his figure disappearing between two actresses in decaying makeup that grabbed his arms and pulled him away.  Raven's feet pounded in time with her heart as the whole house seemed to rebel against them now, walls shifting, doors slamming in their faces, a vertigo tunnel taking over one of the hallways and making her head spin dizzily.

The teen girls ahead of them were inconsolable now, sprinting as fast as they could with Raven and Beast Boy and the rest of the group behind them.  Raven felt the fear pressing in, pushing at the boundaries in her head.  Her mind ached.  But Beast Boy's hand in hers was gripped tight and warm, and he wasn't afraid, laughing a bit as they ran from the specters and apparitions.

Raven let the adrenaline carry her, let the thrill of the chase flood her senses.  It looked like they were coming up on the back door.  The grandmatron appeared suddenly beside them, reaching out a hand and stretching it towards them.

They put on a final burst of speed as she chased after them, reaching, reaching...

The group spilled out into the open air, a blast of cold night wind hitting their faces.

Shrieking turned into relieved panting and laughing, exclamations of delight rather than horror.  The sudden turnaround of emotions made her stagger, shaking her head and washing in the exhilaration that pulsed around their group.

"That..." gasped Beast Boy between deep breaths, doubled over with his hands on his knees, "...was... awesome!"

Raven laughed shortly, putting a hand over her chest and willing her heart to calm.  "Azar..." she panted.  "That was a plot twist!"

Beast Boy tilted upright.  "Yeah, they've got some pretty good writers on their team.  I really liked the sci-fi alien invasion they did last year."

Raven couldn't reply, feeling the ringing inside her head diminish and the empathic noise levels return to something manageable.  She'd probably have a monster headache in the morning, but it almost felt worth it.

Beast boy nudged her side with his elbow.  "Sooooo..." he drawled.  "Watcha think?"

She puffed out a breath.  "I think..." she said.  "We might still need to keep this kind of thing to a minimum.  But," she added quickly, seeing and feeling the flash of disappointment in the shape-shifter's green eyes, "I had fun."  She turned her face aside, pink heat creeping across her cheeks.  "I'm glad I could share this with you."

He beamed.  "Being scared's not any fun if you don't have someone else to be scared with!  Thanks for doing this with me, Rae.  I know it wasn't easy."

She waved him off.  "I'll be fine if I meditate for a couple hours and get to bed at a reasonable time," she insisted.  "But if I have nightmares tonight I'm blaming you," she warned.

"Fair enough."  He grabbed her hand with a brilliant smile.  "C'mon, let's go do some non-scary activities to clear your head a bit."

"You're sweet," she told him.

"Just looking out for my girl!" he bragged, leading the way confidently towards the hay rides and carnival games bathed in soft jack-o'-lantern light.

The glow seemed to warm her heart as she walked by his side, letting the frigid night air melt her away into a gentle, peaceful calm.

#bbrae #BBxRae #beast boy #raven #Teen Titans #fanfiction #prompt fics

[turtledragons]

This was started thanks to the previous ask so enjoy! For those of you who don’t like clicking links you can read the whole thing under the cut. ——————————————————————————

It had been a quiet night when Donnie had slipped away from the camp site. With his nose to the ground he had decided to go hunting. Despite what the rest of the flock told him frozen carrion was not a meal he was particularly interested in. In the middle of the cold season it was fine but this was the warm season. He could afford to be a bit picky. His foot steps silent as he moved through the dense forrest. His focus sharpened at the fresh smell of deer. Lowering his stance to make himself harder to spot he followed the smell. Each stride taking him closer and closer to his unsuspecting prey. A soft sob caused him to freeze. His whole body stiffened; his fin raised to it’s peak. Completely alert he heard the sound once more and shot off in its direction. Weaving around tree after tree he frequently paused to listen. He slowed as he came to a towering bolder. Carefully he crept around the stone, there under an over hang was a very small Fawn cub. Don looked around slowly trying to find the young one’s heard but there was no one not even a scent of an adult. His heart reached out to the little fawn. Instincts urging him forward he carefully and quietly inched closer hoping not to scare the cub. It was such a tiny thing he noted, little arms wrapped tightly around its knees with its little brown head buried in its legs. Its long ears plastered against it’s back. The cub shuttered with another heart wrenching sob and he crooned. It was a low sound meant to comfort. The cub’s head shot up, startled from the sudden noise.
Large honey brown eyes stared at him in terror. The moment Donnie blinked the cub stood and with a loud terrified baaa it tried to run. Expecting this the dragon had lowered to a laying position, using his large body to keep the little one corralled between himself and the stone. It took a few minutes but eventually the cub gave up and collapsed against a small corner in the stone. Tears streaming down its face. The image of the little one preparing for death broke the drake’s heart. He cooed quietly and ever so slowly lowered his head to the ground in front of the cub. Everything about his body language screamed safe, from the lowered fins to his claws tucked under his body. The little Fawn watched his every move and soon enough it’s tears dried and it sat up a little straighter. With the monster before it not making any move to hurt it the cub gained confidence and reached out a tiny hand. Don gently closed the distance with his nose. Letting the cub touch his snout to prove he wasn’t about to bite.
When the brown eyes lit up in wonder, he gently pushed passed the outstretched arm and ever so gently pressed his nose into its little chest. Little arms carefully draped over his snout after a moment of tense silence. “You’re not going to hurt me are you.” The little one stated, voice little more than a whisper. Donnie hummed, a low rumbling sound and closed his eyes in the hopes that the cub would fully relax in his hold. It took a while but eventually the little one laxed it’s mussels and gently started to pet his snout.
“I was playing with my mommy when some humans showed up and chased us.” Don opened his eyes at the whisper. “I just want Mommy.” It hiccuped as new tears rolled down its face. The dragon cooed once more and ever so carefully bit it’s shall. Gently he pulled the little one out of the hole and close to his chest. Slowly surrounding the little one with his fore paws. It was only the size of one of his paws he noted. Don bit back a growl at his rising anger against the humans that dared to threaten a cub. He gently groomed away tears and dirt on the cub, a low purr becoming a constant sound. Finding the cub’s Dam was going to be difficult he realized. He would happily take care of it should the Doe never be found. As the cub calmed in his grasp, he started to make a plan. Usually he could follow the previous sent trail to lead back to the parent but this was a Fawn cub. They had no scent to trace. A sudden thought crossed his mind, he had a Flock for the first time. Yes, surly they would help him with the cub. Slowly he stood startling the cub a bit. He reached down and gently lifted the little one. The squeak of surprise made him smile. He carefully extended one wing and placed the cub between it and his back fin. Donatello took off at a comfortable trot through the brush. His smile widened hearing the excited giggling from his back. Half way back to camp he heard a strange sounding rumbling coming from the cub. He slowed to a halt and looked back to see the little on holding its stomach. He churred and sat down allowing the cub to slide down his smooth back plating. The cub was hungry. Once it was safely on the ground he stood again and stepped forward sniffing bushes and trees looking for something it could eat safely. He was careful to keep his movements slow to both avoid crushing the tiny cub as well as allow it to keep up without struggle. He chirped in happiness when he stumbled across a blueberry bush with ripe berries weighing the branches down. He turned to the cub and pushed it forward where it bleated happily and started to satisfy its hunger. Donnie was content to settle down to an alert position. Keeping an eye out for any potential danger to his little one. He sensed movement long before he saw it. It was large, much larger than him. He relaxed with a smile realizing it his Flock’s leader. He stood to meet the gentle giant. He found himself excited to introduce his new cub to the flock. Soon enough a large rectangular head pushed passed the thicket. Red and gold eyes lightened upon spotting the smaller drake. Don chirped in greeting as the Larger drake forced his way through the trees. Normally he would greet Raphael with a head rub but he was not comfortable leaving the cub’s side. This seemed to confuse the larger reptile but he simply shrugged it off. A light touch against the back of his foreleg made Don look down to see the cub had finished eating and was now hiding behind his leg starring up at the larger drake in wary fear. A unhappy snort made shot Donnie’s vision back up to his leader. Horror flashed in his own gold eyes seeing his leader. The large reptile had his red fins raised in warning. His stance stiff and ready to pounce. Pupils just slits and sharp, sharp teeth bared. Sensing danger Don lowered his stance baring his own teeth for all to see. A threatening hiss erupted from his chest. His wings flared slightly making him look bigger desperately hoping to scare away his leader. His hope dashed when the larger Drake widened his stance and growled at him. It was a low defending sound. Shielding his cub from view Don shrieked, a high piercing noise. His last warning. Raphael did not take it. All it took was one step forward to set the smaller dragon off. He launched himself at the larger on claws primed. He collided with the threat. Claws digging into the other male’s chest and teeth mercilessly ripping into the other’s neck. His Using his hind legs he forced the larger one back away from his cub. Large claws pressed into his stomach pushing freeing the male from his death grip. The two of them fought on their hind legs for a moment, Don keeping the other on the defensive. He was forced to pull back at a loud snap of jaws far too close to his neck.
The two giants roared and screeched at one another. One aiming to kill, the other trying to detain. Don ripped into the larger drake cutting through flesh like mud. Don struck for another bite to the neck only for claws to violently bury themselves in his neck. He was ripped off his feet and stomped into the ground in one swift move.
He didn’t get back up. Raphael panted from the fight. Pain from many scratches and bites making it difficult to focus. He waited ready for when his younger brother stood once more. Only it never happened. A cold chill ran down his spine seeing the smaller dragons unseeing eyes. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t even breath. Blood pooled under his brother’s head, the front of his neck a mangled mess. Raphael didn’t notice the little Fawn kid rush to his brother in tears he only saw the blood. There was so much blood. Everything was a flash of movement from there. Their fight had attracted the attention of the rest of his family. Casey and April had to push his shaky form away as Leonardo tried desperately to save his twin. He killed his brother. It was the only thought running through his head. He killed him and it was just, so easy.  Donatello didn’t know how long it had been, he only knew that he was in pain and that he had to find his cub. He had woken in a nest of cloth, vegetation, and the flock in the middle of the night. The leader as far away as he could be without leaving the camp. He had no idea if it were the same night that he had fought in or not. Slowly he stood careful not to wake anyone. He dared not risk it. A quick glance around confirmed that the little cub was not thankfully not brought here. The pain was overwhelming, screaming down his body in waves at every move. He nearly collapsed twice before he made it out of camp. Excruciatingly slow he limped deeper and deeper into the forest. Once far enough away he started to call. It was a haunting sound. Each second his cub didn’t answer his call the more desperate he became. The most horrible images flashed in his mind of the little one being devoured or killed by the leader of the flock sending him into a panic. He picked up his pace as well as the frequency of his calls. Stumbling though the thick brush he desperately ignored the pain shooting up and down his whole body now.
It took the better part of an hour before he saw a glimpse of little brown fur. He crashed trough the bushes, toppling over. He ended up laying on his side looking into the startled honey brown eyes of his cub. Alive and miraculously unharmed.
A happy but pained whimper escaped his beak as his little one rushed towards him and hugged his snout. He took the blissful moment to prepare for what he was about to do. Ever so slowly he forced himself back onto his paws, crashing back down onto the forrest floor only once.
It was a mistake for him to trust that his flock and leader would care for cubs not their own. It was stupid of him to assume that they would be as protective as he was. Pain ran down his spine as his wings flared. Carefully he cradled the cub between his jaws. He had learned his lesson. This was not a mistake he would dare make again.
Forcing his wings to move his feet left the ground. He would keep his cub safe and if that meant disappearing?
Then so be it.

#tmnt #rottmnt #drake update #drake drabbles #donatello #raphael #blood