#having an instinctive panic response was normal because well. your brain feels all your blood sucking out and thinks FUUUCK IM BLEEDING OUT

[munch-mumbles]

had to donate blood earlier today because my blood cell count was too high at my last pp appt to get my t renewed and god. why didnt anyone warn me about your arm going all hot but also cold and not hurting but definitely feeling insanely weird and uncomfortable and Bad. LITERALLY NO ONE TOLD ME SO I WASNT READY AT ALL AND I STARTED MONKEY BRAIN FREAKING OUT

[drades-lair]

The Albino (Striker x male reader) PT5

Note: contains mentions of rape

After marking Striker during your last rendezvous together he had to go on a job for over two weeks which for your newly ignited hormones seemed like an eternity. You knew when an imp marked another as their mate it would cause a hormonal change, but you didn’t anticipate it to be this powerful, it wasn’t even about wanting to fuck it was like a new instinct had been downloaded into your brain…the instinct to protect. Luckily Striker’s job went faster then expected leading to him being back in about a week and the two of you decided it was perhaps a good idea to get out of your cramped apartment for a little while. A club in lust known as the slick slut was just what was needed for a little breather or so you’d thought, upon entering the club with Striker all you could focus on was sticking close to him and keeping others away from him. It wasn’t unusual for Striker to attract the attention of other imps or demons when the two of you would go out after all he was hot, charming and intelligent normally you ignored the advances because Striker did as well but that was before you marked him.

 Striker still ignored the advances of the others even hissing a bit now when one would attempt to shoot their shot, but you were fighting with everything inside you to not rip them apart. You shoved the feelings into the pit of your stomach so as not to show your possessiveness for fear of driving Striker off, after all his persona was no strings, no tethers if someone were to get too clingy, he’d just leave. You eventually offered to go get some drinks for the two of you, Striker remained in his seat sipping on the beer bottle in his hand while you got up. Striker waited for you to come back when a hand was placed on his shoulder causing the pale imp to turn slightly, throwing a look over his said shoulder at the figure there. A well dressed clearly noble demon was smirking arrogantly down at Striker instantly eliciting a disgusted noise from him as he tried to go back to his beer only to be grabbed by the wrist.

 “Hey!” Striker barked instantly turning around and standing from his stool

 “Come on now, how would you like to get paid a lot of money to spend an evening with such an important demon like myself?” The demon chided as Striker yanked his wrist free.

 “Fuck off! I’m not interested you fucking blue blood!” Striker snarled

 “Names Bal and let’s be frank here little imp you definitely can’t afford to turn down my generous offer,” Bal taunted still getting closer to Striker.

 “Actually, I can. I won’t say it again, Fuck the hell off!” Striker all but spat as his tail began to rattle subconsciously at his aggravation.

 “Don’t you fucking talk to me like that! Learn your place imp!”  Bal retorted

“Why don’t you learn yours!” Striker growled in response followed by a swift punch to the demon’s face. Striker swiftly regretted his action as the demon lord let out a grunting growl as he snatched up Striker’s wrist to flip him around, bending him over the bar while yanking the pale imp’s hands behind his back. Bal pressed his entire body against Striker’s easily slipping a leg between the imp’s own, his free hand beginning to fondle Striker’s ass before slinking up to his sides.

 “You will learn to bow to your betters,” Bal whispered into Striker’s ear

 “Get the fuck off me!” Striker snarled with a slight tint of panic rising in his tone.

 “Not till I’m good and finished with you! By the time I’m done you’ll be begging for it!” Bal retorted

 Striker was full out panicking now as unwanted memories started filling his head, a different demon…a marquee but the same situation except he was much younger. Hands going where he didn’t want them too, no one helping him despite his desperate pleas for assistance and the cackling of a fucking blue blood. Striker struggled desperately to get free of Bal’s grasp only to have his body pressed harder to the bar top, the demon’s slithering hand dipping underneath him to caress up the inside of his thigh. More memories of a dark room, chains rattling, smell of sweat mixed with cum as pain wracked his body…no, not again! You had gotten the drinks from down the bar thus were returning to where you’d left Striker only to hear him pleading for someone to stop doing something. You dropped the drinks upon seeing what was going on, Striker pinned to the bar top with a demon hovering over him with his hands in places that set your dominant instincts a blaze.

 You waisted no time charging at the demon currently pinning Striker to the bar top decking him in the face followed by kicking him in the side eliciting the desired affect of him releasing your mate. Growling fiercely at the higher demon you grabbed Striker to pull him behind you as the demon lay on the ground yelping in pain.

 “You fucking little shit! How dare you?” Bal exclaimed

 “I’ll rip your throat out if you touch him again!” You snarled letting all the pent-up dominant energy from the entire night flow freely.

 “You’ll pay for this!” Bal barked before scrambling off

 “Humph, coward,” You huffed out before turning to face Striker with a concerned look. Striker stood with his head bowed, hat covering his face, but you could still see what looked like a flush of embarrassment across his features. You were about to ask if he was okay only to have Striker cut off your train of thought.

 “Let’s get out of here,” Striker insisted in a low tone

 You agreed promptly following Striker back to your apartment except now your dominant instincts were in full go. You attempted to keep them in check, but it was failing fast coming up behind Striker after the two of you entered the apartment.

 “We should ease some of your tension?” You seductively asked, running a hand over Striker’s back

 “I’m not in the mood (Y/N),” Striker hissed pushing your hand away

 “Well, will you at least tell me what happened?” You persisted unconsciously caressing a hand up his side.

 “I fuckin’ said stop! I’m not in the mood! Leave me alone!” Striker yelled at you full bore, tail rattling as he bared his fangs at you. This action made you regain your senses immediately shoving the dominant instincts you’d been giving into down while looking at Striker in shocked surprise.

 Striker stomped into your living room where you could see him mentally debate leaving unfortunately at this hour getting a motel would be difficult, apparently, he came to that same conclusion because he ultimately just sat down on the couch. Tossing his hat to the side then running clawed hands over his face and through his hair Striker just sat there seeming to contemplate what was going on inside his head. You respected Striker’s request to be left alone turning to sit at the kitchen table which was blocked by the divider wall to the living room, pulling out your phone to entertain yourself yet your own brain was racing with thoughts of how you’d just fucked this whole thing up. Hours passed with the two of you sitting mostly in silence occasionally you heard Striker shift on the couch but ultimately you two sat in silence.

 Striker eventually emerged from the living room looking rough, hair a mess with his jacket missing, vest hanging open and his button down untucked from his jeans. You looked up instantly furrowing your brow in concern, yet you remained silent not wanting to agitate Striker again. Silently Striker came to sit in the other seat at the small table making certain to avoid eye contact with you at all costs.

 “I’m…sorry, you had to see me like that,” Striker finally spoke after taking a deep breath

 “You don’t have to apologize. Do��do you want to talk about it?” You asked gently

 “I figured Ya would ask,” Striker sighed out

 “You…said not again…” You mentioned as Striker sharply looked further away

 “Guess I can’t avoid it any longer…when I was younger, I came to a bar in the lust ring, I was just having a drink like tonight when some blue blood came up to me. Unlike tonight though no one helped me…he had his way with me on the bar top then knocked me unconscious. I woke up in some dungeon type room in his palace, chained like an animal. He…used me…I was nothing but his plaything.” Striker explained

 “Shit…I…had no idea,” You admitted quietly

 “No one does, I eventually killed the bastard and escaped. I pushed everything to the back of my mind…until tonight,” Striker admitted

 “It was too similar…” You trailed off

 “Yeah…except you were there,” Striker finally looked up to make eye contact with you

 “I couldn’t just let him do that to you…” You trailed off again

 “I asked Ya to mark me…I just didn’t expect it to attract such attention,” Striker continued

 “Guess we’ll both have to get used to…whatever…this is…” You smiled warmly before caressing a hand over Striker’s cheek.

 “Yeah…” Striker trailed off now as he leaned closer

 You closed the gap between the two of you to press a gentle kiss to Striker’s lips, the two of you parted for a moment only to press back into the kiss. It wasn’t heated or desperate instead the kiss was incredibly intimate. When you two parted you tapped foreheads together with one of your hands caressing over Striker’s shoulder as he cupped your jawline. You stood from the table first gently tugging on Striker’s hand in a bid to get him to follow you which he happily accepted, getting up to walk behind you into the bedroom.

[59writes]

SEVENTEEN- REACTION: THEIR S/O GETS INJURED (PART 2)

(PART ONE)

part two of @honeyylin ‘s request!!! sorry it took so long honey ㅠㅠ

also check out honey’s acc!!! they’ve recently started writing fic so give em a visit!! <3

today’s photo theme is green green green green green green green green green green

(I didn’t proofread this I will when it’s not 5 am lol)

tw: food, injury

SEOKMIN

• *insert terrified screaming*

• yikes. this man. this poor fellow.

• he’s so worried about you!!!

• like. you’re fine. it’s not a big deal you just won’t be able to walk without crutches for a while

• but this man PHYSICALLY refuses to go to work

• Jihoon even comes to your apartment to beat Seokmin’s ass gently request he come to work cuz they kind of need him

• but no, because “y/n needs me more!!”

• please you’re fine. you can walk and you work from home already. you’ll live. You’ve been injured before.

• this goes in one ear and out the other!

• he will stay home and baby you and peek in your room every ten minutes like “hey are you ok???? do you need anything???”

• it’s kind of endearing

• the calls you keep getting from Seungcheol and Jihoon are not though because SOMEONE keeps forgetting to “call in sick” to work!!

• it’s just part of the whole shebang. he calms down eventually and gets over the anxiety of you getting even more hurt or struggling and goes back to the others

• but you bet your ass when he comes home at night you’re not going anywhere and he’s gonna baby you until he deems you all better

• also he definitely just likes babying you because he doesn’t declare you better until a week after the doctor does, “just to be safe!!!”

• he loves you very much and if anything we’re to happen to the love of his life he’d like. Evaporate on the spot

• 10/10 man right here

MINGYU

• ok so we know how clumsy this man is

• he technically knows how to take care of injuries

• also the injury was sort of maybe his fault ):

• he tripped over a damn rock and made you stumble too, falling and scraping up your leg

• and this poor man is apologizing faster than he raps

• you’re not badly hurt, and when the pain wears off you’re laughing

• and Mingyu’s all pouty lol

• and though you assure him that you’re ok and everyone trips up sometimes, he just wants to make it up to you

• he is also one of the other mfs who would make soup. him and Josh r gonna open a soup kitchen s2g

• but he’s also super cheesy and you wake up from a nap and see that Mingyu’s gone out and gotten flowers and made some nice food and made a little mini date in ur apartment

• and he just feels so bad !!!! please help this man

• once you joke that maybe you should get injured more often so you guys have more dates like this he finally really calms down

• but like I said, he’d know how to treat any injury

• maybe not well, and I’m sure this man’s instinctive response is “I will put a bandaid on it and move on with my life” but how focused he is when he is just wiping off dirt from your arm or leg or whatever and making you sit still while he gauzes it up is just really sweet he cares so much

MINGHAO

• this man does not know anything.

• I mean don’t get me wrong he’s incredibly smart and emotionally intelligent but also. there’s nothing in this man’s brain except for dastardly ideas

• and you nearly breaking your arm is not exactly a dastardly idea

• so he kinda just shuts down

• he wants to help !!! So bad !!!! but he can’t do anything !!!

• like he’s genuinely such a kind dude and always willing to help even if he teases about it and just always there

• and this is the one thing he can’t help with!!!

• so frustrated ):

• so he spends his time with you by lurking with a pout, ready for any request you had

• he definitely looks like a lost puppy ㅠㅠ

• maybe you act a little more helpless than usual so he can feel better about himself. just maybe

• seeing him brighten when you ask him to get the pasta from the top shelf or help with the laundry is completely worth getting hurt for!!

• eventually he cheers up and goes back to his normal and teasing ways

• and once you heal up he’s so glad he can hug you super tight again (:<

SEUNGKWAN

• Ah, Seungkwan.

• be prepared for lots of passive-aggressive scolding

• I mean when it first happens you can see the panic in this poor man’s eyes

• ok well technically you texted him about it but his reply was violently misspelled and he showed up at your house within 15 minutes

• tbh you should be scolding him because he definitely was speeding to get home that fast

• but he was scolding you!!!

• like wtf you’re already feeling shitty and then Seungkwan comes over and is acting like your mom

• but this man is emotionally mature!!!

• he notices how frustrated and snippy your replies get and calms down, hugging you tightly where you sit on the bathroom counter as he cleans you up

• complains about getting blood on his shirt tho the bastard

• but he definitely hangs out with you for the rest of the day and you catch up and eat ice cream while you lie around on the floor and it’s just. aju nice. (lol)

• he does his best to keep your mind off of any pain or struggling, and we all know this man is a master of distraction so it goes very well

• he’s a very home-y person and you always feel safe with him (:

VERNON

• his literal response is “well that’s not good”

• you fuckin call him like “hey sol I’m in urgent care kinda like. broke my arm” and he’s just like “Yeah that’s a problem”

• thank you Hansol “Sherlock” Chwe

• he is just. out of his element please this man will just stare at your cast or whatever with wide eyes like “yo you broke your arm” yes Vernon

• he’s kinda just fascinated ngl

• he lets you tell your story with wide eyes, beaming proudly when you said you didn’t cry

• he’s like “yeah that’s my partner (:< so cool and badass”

• he’s just very silly about it and doesn’t treat you any differently

• which is nice because you kinda hate people bringing attention to it cuz it’s annoying as shit already ):<

• and he’s already so helpful and willing to do chores or whatever so you don’t have to worry about carrying things or washing dishes or whatever cuz Vernon’s got it!!!

• plus it’s adorable how literally every night he’s just like “it’s so cool how you have a cast” like it’s the dumbest thing ever but he finds it so entertaining. like not even the fact you got hurt just like “holy shit like. it’s cement they basically cement your arm in place you have cement on your arm y/n you could knock someone out with that”

• he’s a cutie lol

CHAN

• ok contrary to popular belief I think he would handle it very well!!

• don’t get me wrong this man is PANICKING under the surface but like. he’s so calm about it on the outside??? hello????

• you call him during practice like “hey so I kinda got hurt I’m ok tho, at the doctor rn” and he’s just like “yes ok are you ok?!”

• little dude lol

• and even though you are, in fact, completely fine, he’s gotta worry smh it’s his job!!

• he comes home and listens to the story as he helps you change the bandages with the most gentle hands ))))):

• and being near you definitely helps calm him down

• he’s back to teasing and being goofy in no time

• this man also definitely knows some medical shit idk what makes me think that but he knows how to like. deal with an injury.

• he definitely is very medically aware idk man I feel like he listens to doctor speak cuz it’s cool and is like “oh yeah go ice that you don’t want it cramping up” whenever one of the other guys complains about something minor lol

• he’s very caring ): I love he sm (:

• he can be a little rat but he knows when to stop and be an ally and what an excellent ally he is!!!!!!!!!

I’m so sorry I’ve never done an after note like this before but seeing all the green and plants makes me think of this damn tweet and I can’t stop laughinh

“he has pollen allergy” I’m sobbing please

[sylverstorms]

Daniela x Maiden ----Haunted

Commission for the wonderful @uni--tea that I received on Ko-Fi. Thank you so much for all the support. I have no words ❣

Normally, you take pride in your self-control.

Both physically and mentally, you have a solid grip on you at any given moment. It is a trait that has helped you throughout numerous situations in your life so far and you're certain it will only continue to do so in the future.

But.

At the same time, the fear of losing this hallmark –your greatest strength— is always there, right under your skin. It hides its ugly shadow behind your confidence's light. Never gone. Never lessened.

Because you know just how easy it is for that control to shatter. You know it takes next to nothing to bring to the forefront everything you took years suppressing, locking in the deepest part of your psyche.

Perhaps it is one of the reasons why you dread living in the castle. Stimuli that can set you off lies everywhere. A maiden's cry. A whimper. Pools of blood.

Then it all goes to hell for you.

That is how it happens again; with a girl's scream down the corridor.

Your body automatically rushes towards the sound –a questionable response, you're aware— yet by the time you get there it is already too late.

She has made the mistake of opening a door you all know not to and stepped into the courtyard. Perhaps prompted by an outside sound into the foolish action, or perhaps seeking her freedom at any cost. All she finds is her death, in the form of a flying creature's claws sunk deep through her flesh.

You see a fountain of crimson as the creature attempts to fly away with the corpse, talons digging further in for a better grip, as if through butter. Your first instinct is to leap forward to save her. Save what you can. Whatever is left.

Your body has other ideas. You find that you freeze, instead, unable to will yourself even a single step forward. Your hands are shaking, the entire world is tilting before your very eyes. Gravity magnifies; you drop to your knees, weak, useless, while the shriek of the retreating monstrosity blares through your brain.

Your heart, you feel, is one pound away from breaking in your chest.

The castle fades away into your old home. You are trapped in a fragile, twelve-year-old body again, watching the man your parents healed rip away at them with a kitchen knife. You see the spray of red at every downward slash of the blade. Then the door is kicked down, the police is rushing in, there is so much noise—

Yet rather than a door slamming open, you hear a soft click. A casual slide of bars, followed by a familiar, soft voice;

“Oh, no. Another one's kicked the bucket. Mother will not be pleased.” A deep huff comes. “You'll tell her I had nothing to do with it if she asks, won't you, my Knight?”

Even in your panic attack, you recognize Daniela's nickname for you. Except this time, it rings so false to your ears the sensation is almost acidic.

Knights are supposed to be beacons of bravery, but here you are, swallowed whole by your terrors. You are not courageous, no fighter and certainly no hero. Not where it really matters. You are nothing.

Nothing.

“Knight, I'm talking to you.” An impatient, cool finger hooks itself under your chin and forces you to look forward. The redhead has crouched down to your level, you realize, eyeing you closely, a tad irritated at your lack of response.

Shallow as it may be, it helps your case that her face is pretty as a fairytale. That her eyes glint amber instead of crazed blue. That there is no blood on her face or her clothes, this time. It helps that she's no man –even if she's a hundred times more dangerous than the memory of the killer that haunts you.

Your muscles gradually begin to unlock. Oxygen still feels lackluster, but at least you are no longer suffocating.

“You've gone pale.” she observes, leaning a tad closer.

The finger used to trap your chin ends up caressing your jawline, in a touch gentler than anything you would have ever expected from her. The chill of her skin is— soothing.

Your eyes close.

Daniela does not stop there, though. She gradually slides closer, practically climbing onto your thighs while her head tucks in the crook of your neck. You don't know what she's doing or why, but...

Her hand has moved slightly down, to lazily trace shapes on your neck. She smells so good, flesh out of a bath, no doubt, and she feels criminally nice in your arms. You are only human; you will take comfort where you can.

“It's unbelievably cute that you were so worried about me you froze up like that, my Knight!” she exclaims, ending your confusion there.

You want to facepalm, but that may result in death so you only let out a faint sigh, instead. In all honesty, you should have suspected what was going through her head would not be anything remotely based on reality.

That being said... Daniela Dimitrescu, of all people –mutants, vampires, whatever category she falls under— did pull you out of a panic attack.

Why burst her bubble? you muse as you carefully wrap your arms around her slender waist, a non-verbal ‘thank you’ for the help she will never be aware she gave you.

She seems to like the gesture.

A tad too much, because her grip tightens to a point that makes your very bones protest.

“Ugh, Daniela... I can't...”

“Aw, you can't bear to lose me?” she giggles by your ear and the sound really shouldn't be that endearing when she's crushing you.

“Well, I—��� How do you explain that is not the case without signing your own death sentence?

Daniela, by some miracle of the universe, pulls back, keeping her dainty hands idle on your shoulders. She looks straight into your eyes, her own glowing like stars.

“Tell me more~”

[queenmuzz]

So, anyways, I saw something @liulyam had posted for Spardaverse a while back I DON'T KNOW HOW I MISSED THEIR WONDERFUL ART FORGIVE ME! Anyways, I saw specifically THIS piece of art, and it sent the brain juices into overdrive....

So, the same thing plays out everyday. Nero gets off the school bus and runs in, backpack flying, and tells his uncle excitedly about his day at school, before racing up the stairs to tell his dad the same thing, in the same adorably animated manner. Unfortunately, Vergil doesn’t respond the same way as Dante, sitting still, not even acknowledging that the boy is talking to him. Initially, Nero doesn’t mind, understanding his recently rescued father has been through a lot, and needs time and patience to recover. But as the months pass by, Dante notices that his nephew doesn’t run up the front steps as eagerly, his descriptions of school become shorter, paler. And most worryingly of all, Nero spends less and less time with Vergil, preferring to peek his head in the man’s room, sigh, and slowly make his way to his own room, closing the door sullenly.

“What’s going on Nero?” Dante takes the plunge and asks him one day, before the boy trudges up the stairs. “You haven’t been that rambunctious ball of energy lately.”

Nero kicks the worn hardwood floor. “It’s dad… I know you told me I need to be patient,” his face scrunches up at the word, it’s a thing he’s never been able to truly do. He’s definitely a Sparda boy. “But he just keeps ignoring me. He won’t talk, won’t even look at me. It’s like I don’t even exist! Maybe...maybe he doesn’t want me to exist-”

“Hey now!” Dante needs to nip this train of thought in the bud. He knows first hand where it can lead to. Had he not found Nero nearly nine years ago, while wandering the world, drinking up every bar’s entire inventory in a vain attempt to fill a void in his chest, who knows where he would have ended up? “Your dad...well, even without the stuff he’s been through, he was never much of a talker. Always preferred to have his actions speak for him.” “But that’s the thing, Uncle Dante!” Nero blurts out, close to tears. “He DOESN’T DO ANYTHING!!! He doesn’t care!” And with that, Nero bolts up the stairs, past Vergil’s room, not even checking up on him, and slams his bedroom door with such force, Eva’s portrait wobbles on the desk and tips over. Dante sighs, sets his mom back up, and slowly makes his way up the stairs. Not to Nero’s room; Dante knows better than to provoke that tiger cub when he’s in an ornery mood. It’s time to talk to his dad.

Vergil, or what’s left of him, is sitting in an oversized chair, the only one that fits his giant frame, facing the window, the only one in the place with a view. If he’s heard the ruckus (and Dante knows he has), he makes no indication that it affects him.

“Verg,” he calls out, “I know it's been rough, I know I piled on a lot of shit on you, the whole thing about having a kid and everything these past nine years. I’m not expecting you to just snap back to normal, and start insulting me like in the good old days, but…” Dante’s not good at this sort of thing. He’d rather Royal Guard his emotional turmoil. It used to be with alcohol, but now it’s with a cheery smile. “The kid needs a sign that you’re still there, you’re still fighting. I know you are, hell, you’re the one that helped me take down that bastard Mundus on Mallet Island. But that’s the thing, Nero’s only heard things that you’ve done, not seen them. You need to show him yourself, otherwise…” Vergil makes no motion, and even Dante, stubborn as he is, knows it’s fruitless to continue much more, “you’re gonna lose him too.” And then Dante heads back downstairs, to see if he can whip up a snack to bribe his nephew to come out of his lair. Strange, he swears he hears the rustle of fabric from Vergil’s room, as if his brother had just moved.

--

Nero sits at Dante’s desk, working on his math homework. It’s his least favourite thing, fractions. Uncle Dante is a whiz at them, and usually would be able to help him, but he’s gone out on an ‘Really quick, won’t be more than a half hour’ errand run. It’s been nearly two hours, and the only other adult here is his dad… so Nero is practically by himself.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Nero’s neck prick up, and he hears scrabbling at the front door. He’s still not allowed to go out with Uncle Dante or Auntie Lady on their hunts, but he knows what a demon feels like, especially when there are a lot of them. ESPECIALLY when they’re really powerful Instinctively, he grabs a chair, and wedges it underneath the door knob, and looks around in a panic. He’s never had to deal with a demon attack by himself before. He remembers his uncle has a case of weapons that he was told to NEVER touch beside the jukebox, but Nero figures that he can say sorry to his uncle later. He smashes the lock with a billiard ball, and yanks open the lid. He’s disappointed. He thought there would be a treasure trove of swords and guns, but all there are two swords, one red and one blue. But he doesn’t have much of a choice, and the whine of protesting wood ends with a thunderous CRASH, and demons pour through. “FIND THE HERETIC GOD SLAYER!” One says, before turning in Nero’s direction. Without much warning, it shrieks as it launches at him with razor sharp obsidian claws.

Nero might be little, but his uncle has trained him well. Whipping the two blades around, they connect the monster’s waist in a pincer move, and like a pair of scissors, bisect it in a shower of blood and ash. Nero swears he hears a voice (or is it two voices?) approvingly say, “Impressive!” but doesn’t have a chance to savour his very first demon kill as another demon comes at him, knocking him over. The reddish gold blade clatters away on the floor, way out of reach, not that it matters. Nero’s pinned to the ground by a skeletal foot, as the demon lifts a blade to impale him. He squeezes his eyes shut, preparing for the end.

The final blow never comes. Instead, he hears shriek, and the pressure on his chest instantly subsides. He opens his eyes, to see it stagger back, its decapitated head clattering to the floor. Its brethren likewise are either dead or dying, their high pitched screams shattering the glass in the jukebox.

Nero’s first thought is that his Uncle has finally come home, Dante’s come to save me! But what’s odd is that there’s no sound of Dante’s beloved Ebony and Ivory. And last he checked, his uncle never was able to shoot out blue ghostly blades that now impale most of the horde. But it doesn’t matter, because his uncle is here to save the day! That is, until he yelps as he’s quickly, but not roughly picked up and held as whoever holds him spirits him out of the building, the blue blade still clutched in his hand. Nero begins to panic, but hears a voice, almost like a croak, as if the vocal cords had been in disuse for years…

Nero

And even though the voice is harsh sounding, it's one of the most comforting things Nero’s ever heard.

--

Of course that half hour errand run would turn out to be three hours. But when he was promised a free pizza for clearing out that demon nest on the West side, Dante couldn’t say no. Besides, he’d pick up some freshly baked chocolate chip cookies on the way home as a way of apologising to Nero. The kid might be cross with him, but he’d forgive him the moment he smelled those chewy biscuits. Dante might even let him have more than half of the package.

So when he gets home to find his front door smashed open, his office trashed, and worst of all his jukebox shattered-wait no, worst of all, his nephew missing, all thoughts of pizza and cookies vanish from his mind as he rushes in, guns drawn. There’s no sign of life, but the black splatters of demonic ichor painting the walls shows that some real bad mojo went down here. The strangest thing though, is Agni, a weapon Dante was definitely sure he had under lock and key, laying there on the ground, alone.

“Alright, time to spill your guts” he yanks the blade up so that he’s at eye level with the pommel, “What the hell happened here?” Agni makes the same response as Vergil. Which means silence.

“I swear to…” he pulls out ivory, and presses the muzzle into the (more troubled than usual looking face), “You’re gonna tell me what went down, or we’re gonna see how many bullets I can jam into your ugly mug.” “You told us to remain silent.” He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, consider that rule temporarily relaxed.” “There was an attack.” Agni starts, its distorted voice unusually agitated, “The little one fought with great valour, but eventually even he was overwhelmed.” Dante’s blood goes cold. “But then a great bulk of a demon came out and slaughtered the attacking filth, and spirited the boy away, alongwith my brother.”

“Rudra’s still with Nero?” That’s odd, if they were trying to capture the kid, they’d disarm him first.

“Yes, they are not far, I think they’ve stopped moving.”

“Alright,” Dante makes his way out of the disfigured wood, “let’s go find the kid and your bro...and if he’s alright, maybe I’ll reconsider giving back your talking privileges.” “Oh, that would be wonderful, will you allow us to leave the dark box? It’s been so long since we’ve fought, we crave batt- ”

“I said IF, and I won’t guarantee anything if you keep jabbering on and on.”

--

Angi directs the demon hunter to a dark secluded alleyway, a few blocks from Devil May Cry. One hand on its hilt ready for attack, the other fingering the trigger of Ivory, he cautiously makes his way past the recently overturned garbage cans, to a shadow alcove, where a shadow crouches. Beside it is Rudra, glowing faintly, it’s turquoise blue light providing enough illumination for Dante to make out what has happened. There’s Nero, peacefully slumbering away, apparently unharmed, not even his shirt is torn. And holding him gently, stroking his downy white hair with a giant hand...is Vergil… And for once, even though he is still staring straight ahead, there’s a different look on his face, a sense of contentment.

Huh Dante thinks to himself as he holsters the weapons, I was right, actions DO speak louder than words.

[darthkruge]

Poe Dameron x Reader ~ Take Mine

Summary || On your first mission as Commander of Blue Squadron, you take Poe’s X-wing. Unfortunately, it doesn’t go as planned. 

Warnings || Some injuries and a bit of blood? I didn’t go super in detail, though

Words || 2.2k

A/N || This is my first time writing for Poe and I’m so scared and I tried to be accurate and if it’s not I apologize but if I spent another minute staring at this draft I will scream. Special thanks to @poestardust and @buckysbeloved because y’all were both super fucking supportive and without that this might not have been posted! I am now officially adding Poe to the people I write for and while my requests for full fics are closed, I am more than willing to do little blurbs/hc’s or hear any and all of y’alls soft/angsty thoughts for that wonderful Flyboy. My status of requests gives more insight into all of this :)

gif credit

You groaned, shaking your head as you racked your brain for a way to get out of this. Your X-wing was supposed to be fixed a week ago, a solid few days before your mission was set to start. But, alas, Red Squadron had a bit of a rough mission coming off Hoth and needed repairs more rapidly than you, so your starfighter was put on the low priority list. 

Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem. You could be patient. Normally. But you had just been promoted to Commander of Blue Squadron and your first mission left in two standard hours. 

You walked through the door of your room, trying to find a solution but continuing to come up empty. 

“Sweetheart?” Your head perked up at Poe’s voice, the concern clear in his words. 

“What happened, why aren’t you with the rest of the Squadron getting ready?” 

“My starfighter isn’t ready.” You said, trying to make sense of the words as they came out.

Poe blinked. “Still?” 

“Yeah, the other repairs are taking longer than usual and it’s not ready and it won’t be ready and I have to lead my team on a supply drop and try to not get everyone killed and I don’t even have my kriffing X-wing!” Your voice shook, the lack of control making you anxious as you paced back and forth through your quarters. 

Poe’s hands found their way to your shoulders, steadying you. “Look at me, okay? Breathe for a second,” Poe gave you a slight smile as you nodded, closing your eyes as you took a deep breath. “Yeah, just like that. It’s gonna be just fine, we’ll figure it out!” 

Now, the panic creeped back into your expression. “How?!” 

Poe thought for a second, mentally grasping at straws before his eyes widened in realization. “Take mine!”

“What?!”

“Take my X-wing! It’s all ready to go and Black Squadron isn’t set to go on our next mission for another two weeks! You’ll be back well before then, it’ll work out just fine!” 

“But- I can’t just take your X-wing, Poe!”

“Yes you can! Come on, I don’t really see what other options you have! Just take it, please? It’ll bring you good luck.” 

You sighed, realizing he was right. “Okay, okay, fine!”

Poe smiled, leaning in to peck you on the lips. “Now, go! You don’t want to be late, do you, Commander?” 

“Oh, no, definitely not, Commander! That would set a horrible example for my team!” You quipped back before leaning in once more. “I love you.” You whispered. 

“I love you too.” He smiled back. “Seriously!” He said with a laugh, “Go!” 

“Going!” You called over your shoulder as you ran to the hanger. 

A week and two days later, that conversation was the only thing on your mind. You were desperately steering your- no, Poe’s- X-wing away from the fleet of First Order ships flying straight for your Squadron. Somehow, they’d learned of your plans for the supply drop and decided to swing by. How thoughtful of them. 

“Okay, everyone. Just hang tight, shoot if you’ve got a clear shot but no one’s trying to be a hero, alright? First priority is getting home safe.” You said through the open channel.

 You smiled as you heard your team voice their approval, ending their messages with a “Commander” here and there. Right now, all you were doing was hoping you were deserving enough of that title to get everyone back in one piece. 

Looking to make sure everyone was in line, you felt your heart drop as you counted the starfighters. Everyone was there, minus one. Where was Snap? Craning your neck, you swore as you saw him caught on the right side, boxed in by two First Order TIE fighters. 

You quickly opened a private communication channel. “Tallie?”

“Yes, Commander L/N?”

“Make sure everyone stays ahead of the TIE fighters, okay? Keep moving forward.”

“Y/N what are you talking about?”

You sighed, consciously working to keep your voice even and calm. “Snap’s stuck and I’m not leaving him. I’ll be fine, just a little bit behind you. Just… get them home.” 

“But-”

“Please.” 

You felt guilty for being short with her, but you had to do it. If you didn’t, she’d know how kriffing terrified you were. 

After waiting a moment, she sighed. “Okay. Be safe, Commander.”

“Same to you.” You replied, shutting off the channel. You forced the tears back in your eyes and refused to let your thoughts dwell any more on your Squadron or that beautiful, dark haired pilot you knew was waiting for you. 

You turned Poe’s X-wing and sent a prayer to the Maker as you made a bee-line for one of the two TIE fighters and fired, shooting one directly. You laughed, almost giddy at how spot-on the hit was. 

“Commander?” Snap’s voice filtered through the communication system. 

“Hang on, I’ve almost got it.” You bit your lip in concentration as you aimed for the second fighter. But right as you pressed fire, so did they. Your eyes widened as you quickly swerved. Luckily, the blast didn’t hit the front of the starfighter, or else you’d be good as dead right now. Unluckily, you gasped in horror as your ship began plummeting, realizing they had hit your engine. 

You turned your head back, praying that this wasn’t in vain. You let out a breath, realizing Snap was now free and the other TIE was demolished, thanks to your aim. If you’re going to go down, at least you brought two First Order fighters with you. 

As your X-wing came closer and closer to the ground, you screwed your eyes shut. Against your will, you remembered that at least your last conversation with him had been a good one. Your heart broke, realizing he’d probably find a way to blame himself for this, forever. That you’d never get married, never have the chance to settle down after the war ends. That you’d never again feel his lips against yours, never again experience the warmth of his arms or the comfort of his embrace. How could life work like this, how could it simply-

Your thoughts were cut off as your starfighter crashed to the ground, leaving you in darkness. 

-------

“What do you mean, their starfighter went down?!”

Leia sighed, subtly but firmly gesturing for everyone else to clear the briefing room. “Blue Squadron’s supply run didn’t go as planned. There were first order TIE fighters waiting for them. I’m not sure of the specifics, just that Commander L/N’s X-wing’s communication systems went out. Snap said Y/N went down saving him and when he rushed back to their crashed X-wing, they were breathing, but unconscious and bleeding.” 

Her eyes softened as she saw Poe’s heartbroken expression. “I’m sorry, Poe. I know you must be feeling helpless right now. But there is no reason to assume the worst, at least not yet.”

Poe swallowed hard, the tears making his throat heavy. “I’m-” His voice broke, the pain evident. “I’m gonna go wait at the hangar bay. They’ll make it home.” 

Leia just nodded, not having the heart to tell him to try to prepare himself for the worst. 

-------

When you woke up, you were in Snap’s X-wing, leaning against the wall in the small space. You groaned when you moved your hand to your head. Yup, you were definitely bleeding. 

“Where are we?” You croaked out. 

Snap’s head shot over to you. “Oh thank the Maker, you’re awake! We’re almost back at the base. Just sit still, okay?”

You nodded, already feeling a bit groggy.

“Y/N?!” 

You gave an annoyed hum in response.

“Come on, Y/N, don’t fall asleep. Hold on a little longer.” 

You nodded, fighting against every instinct you had to stay conscious. 

“Kriff, okay. Talk to me, okay?”

“About what?” Your mouth felt like sandpaper and your head was heavy. Even as you leaned it against the wall, you felt dizzy, like you’d tip over at any second. 

“Dameron. Tell me about Dameron, okay?”

Your lips unconsciously curled into a soft smile. And then your eyes shot open as you tried to physically shake the dizziness from your body. “The X-wing!”

“What?!”

“My, no, his X-wing! Poe’s, his- he’s gonna be so upset, kriff!” 

“What are you going on about?”

“Poe, he let me use his X-wing and it kriffing crashed and-” You trailed off, running a hand through your hair and wincing as the movement aggravated your injured head. 

“Y/N, calm down, okay? He’ll be fine, he’s not gonna care.”

You nodded, eyes filling with guilty tears as Snap finally pulled up to the Resistance Base. Home. As the X-wing opened, Snap helped haul you up as Poe sprinted over to you. 

“Y/N!” He called, hands coming to hold either side of your face. He quickly put one of your arms around his shoulders as his wound around your waist, holding your weight against him.

“I’m sorry, I’m so-” You hiccupped, tears leaking from your eyes. 

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s alright. Let’s just get you back to our room, yeah?” 

You shook your head, placing a hand on his chest to stop him. He looked into your eyes and his concern compounded, no idea why you were so distraught. 

“I crashed your X-wing.” You said, head hung in shame. 

Poe was now just as confused as he was concerned. “I… I know, sweetheart. But you’re safe now, I’ve got you. Just a little more walking and then I can clean you up.” 

“No! I, you don’t understand! Poe, it’s not just scratched up, it’s ruined. We had to leave it, it’s gone and it’s my fault and I’m so, so sorry.”

He just shook his head, still shocked that you thought he was upset about that. “Y/N, I know. But I’m not worried about that, I’m worried about you. Now would you please let me get you back to our room?” 

You nodded but he didn’t miss how the guilt refused to leave your gaze. When you finally got inside, he led you over to the bed and got you to sit down. 

“I’m fine, seriously.” 

Poe quirked his eyebrow. “You’re bleeding from the head.” 

He walked quickly into the refresher, coming back with the medkit you’ve used on him millions of times before. As he worked on disinfecting the cut on your head, you bunched your fingers in the bedsheets, distracting yourself from the pain of the gash. Noticing, he muttered a quick apology, taking a break to stroke his thumb across your cheekbone. Finally, he finished stitching the cut and gently placed a bandage over the area, smoothing out the edges. 

When he looked up, he saw you lost in your own mind. “Come on, baby, talk to me.” 

“You just… you loved that ship and you trusted me with it and you’d had it for so long and I can’t believe I wrecked it.” 

Poe sighed, wishing there was something he could do to convince you that everything was alright. 

“Sweetheart, it’s a kriffing X-wing. Why are you so worked up about it?” His voice was soft and free of judgment. 

“I just feel like I let you down.” 

“Hey,” He said, taking your hands in his. “You did nothing of the sort. I promise, I’m not upset, okay? I’m just glad you made it home to me.” 

You looked up at him. “I’ll always come home to you.” 

You scooted over and gestured to the bed, a silent invitation. Poe smiled at you and took a second to take off his boots and jacket before climbing in beside you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, careful not to hit your head while doing so. You leaned into him, your face resting comfortably in the crook of his neck as you breathed in his scent. He pulled back for a second, just to grab the covers and move them so they were all around you and up to your chin, just as you liked. 

Under the blankets, you moved your hand so it was resting on his heart. You liked doing so, feeling the steady beating of it after a long mission. Poe was used to it by now and simply placed one of his hands atop yours, his thumb rubbing up and down. 

“And you know it’s not your fault, right?” He said, breaking the silence 

“Poe, I was literally the one that crashed it.” You reasoned, lifting your head up to look at him. 

“They shot you down as you took out two TIE fighters! No one could have gotten out of that.” 

“But you had so many memories attached to that X-wing-”

“-And we’ll make new ones.” He finished. 

You sighed and nodded, a slow smile creeping onto your face that let Poe know that you at least somewhat believed his words. Inwardly, he cheered, quite proud of himself for getting through to you. Outwardly, he just tucked you further into his embrace and relished in the feeling of you safe, home, and in his arms.

----

tagging people on my permanent taglist + peoples who wanted a tag/might be interested? if i wrongly guessed you’d be interested please feel free to ignore sfklsj!!

@saltybreaddream @buckysbeloved @lolquarth @sodaoverstars @artiza-n @poestardust @beskar-tano @starwarsflowers @sunsetkenobi @90steaology @marvelinsanity @dracowars @collywobbl @dameronology​ @marvel-ousnesss​

also: i added poe to my taglist and if you would like to be added to those tags, the link to join my taglist is in my pinned! if you’ve already joined my taglist, you can just fill it out again in full or just check poe’s name and either way i’ll know because the last question on the form lets me know if you’re new to the taglist or simply editing your previous answer :)

also i sent this fic to the queue because i have never been more scared to post something

[set-phasers-to-whump]

broken bones

prompt: broken bones

whumpee: eddie diaz

fandom: 911

hey i am back with another street fighting eddie fic. this is set after he’s stopped street fighting but he goes back for this. bad idea eddie. but i will let you read on!!

Eddie bounces around the ring, light on the balls of his feet, hands raised, expertly ducking and blocking nearly all of his opponent’s punches. One or two hit him, but he barely feels them, too caught up in focusing on the fight. 

He lashes out with a right hook that his opponent blocks with a swift arm, slamming into it with such an intense force Eddie’s surprised it hadn’t hurt the guy. He strikes out with another punch, which is countered, and receives a solid blow to the nose that knocks him off balance for a second. 

He regains his sense of balance and launches himself again at his opponent with renewed strength brought on by the stinging feeling on his face. He lands a solid punch to the guy’s chest, leaning into it a bit too much, so that the guy in turn has easy access for a punch to his ribs. 

The hit connects, and he stumbles back for a fraction of a second, during which time his opponent leaps at him, a flurry of punches coming his way like all of a sudden the guy is desperate to win within the next five seconds. 

Which he doesn’t. Eddie avoids some of the blows and absorbs the rest, launching himself back with a similar intensity. Two punches to the chest, one punch blocked with a slam down of the arm, a punch to the face…

They separate after a few seconds, both near the edge of exhaustion but evidently equally willing to push themselves past that point if it means winning. Which Eddie is going to do. Has to do. 

The arena has gone fairly silent, apparently in anxious preparation for the final blows of the fight, which everyone can see are coming, Eddie imagines. But even his opponent has gone weirdly still, looking at him like he’s not sure what it is he’s seeing. Eddie reaches up his arm to wipe a bead of sweat away from his eyes, hears a strange ooh sound resonate through the crowd, gives it no thought, and launches himself back for a final knockout punch. 

Which comes, but not from him. A glove hits him in the chin, oddly soft, and ordinarily he doubts this is the kind of punch to take him out, but evidently his head had snapped back harder than he’d thought, because his vision starts to spin and he sinks to the ground. 

Blood rushes in his ears, but normally he can at least hear the crowd cheering faintly over the noise. Now they’re dead silent. He hopes that doesn’t mean the cops are here. 

Eddie looks around, blinking stars out of his vision, and sees several pairs of eyes trained on him. He’s too dizzy to see what kind of emotion they’re conveying, but the low murmur that’s started up tells him it’s probably nothing good. 

Someone grabs him around his left bicep and pulls him to his feet suddenly, leaving his head spinning far worse than it had been before. They drag him out of the ring and push him in the general direction of his truck.

“Wha’s goin on?” he asks. “‘M not leavin yet.”

“Yes, you are,” says an unfamiliar voice. “You’re done for the night, Diaz, and in fact, I don’t wanna see you back here anytime soon. Understand me?”

Eddie nods, though he absolutely does not understand. What had he done wrong? Sure he’d got beat, but that was a one-time thing. He’s good at this. He…

His right arm is wet. Wet? He reaches out his left hand to touch the wetness, which feels like it’s too much to be sweat. 

In the dim glow of a singular lamppost, he sees the wetness glistening red on his fingers. He looks at it with a frown on his face, wondering where it had come from, and then looks at his arm. 

Which is...oh god. 

He turns his head away from it immediately, trying and failing not to gag, feeling the pain swell up all at once, screaming and red-hot and physically sickening. 

He looks again, very briefly, in some crazy desire to make sure he’d seen what he’d seen. 

He had. There’s a bone - his bone - sticking through the skin of his forearm, which is covered in his own blood. He screws his eyes shut like not having the option of looking at it will somehow make it better.

Which it doesn’t, of course. Now that he’s seen it, there is no stopping the pain that radiates from his arm, engulfing his entire body so that it’s literally the only thing he’s capable of paying attention to. Hot tears prick at the corners of his eyes, and he lets them fall, hating the way they feel like the blood that’s dripping from his arm. He sinks to the ground, leaning his back against the lamppost, not moving his arm at all, even to a position that might make it a little more comfortable.

He needs...he has to…

He doesn’t know. There’s something...someone, who will help him. But that’s as far as his brain will allow him to think before it’s pulling him back under the frothing ocean of pain. 

Buck. 

The name comes to him without him needing to focus on it. He can’t think about who Buck is, but simply knows who he is - a big smile, a bigger heart, video games with Chris, teamwork on calls, love, trust. Buck will help him. 

Shaking, bloody fingers find his phone in the duffle bag next to him, which he hadn’t even realized anyone had given him. He briefly blinks open his eyes to unlock his phone and find Buck’s contact - both acts done with no conscious thought behind them - and then Buck’s voice is in his ear and everything hurts so, so much, but he knows with absolute certainty that he is going to be okay.

He can’t find the energy or the focus to speak and feels himself descend further into the pain, but above the roar of it in his ears he hears Buck’s voice saying he’s coming, and to just hold on. 

--

There’s a hand on his face, cool against the heat that engulfs his whole body. 

��-die? Can you hear me?”

He forces his eyes open and finds himself staring at Buck, whose hand is cupping his cheek and preventing him from turning his face to look at his arm. “Hey,” he manages to whisper, feeling the word grate through his body like sandpaper. 

“Hey,” Buck says softly, and the hand rubs gently against Eddie’s cheek. “I’m gonna take care of you, okay?”

Eddie nods. Buck’s gonna take care of him...he focuses on that thought as Buck slowly slips an arm around his left arm and shoulder, pulling him carefully to his feet. 

The change in position makes him even dizzier than he had been before, and he turns his head away from Buck and pukes, trying to focus on the feeling of Buck’s hand on his back until the dizziness fades ever so slightly. 

“You good?” Buck asks, after a moment, and Eddie takes a shaky step in response, not bothering to try and talk. 

They make it the rest of the way to Buck’s jeep without incident, and Buck helps Eddie into the passenger seat, then heads around to the back of the car.

He returns to Eddie’s side in seconds, and tells Eddie to keep his eyes closed. Eddie feels something press into his arm, barely able to be felt over the pain, and then he feels something else touching both sides of his arm, and some part of his mind instinctively knows it’s a splint. 

“Don’t move it,” Buck says, which Eddie’d needed no encouragement not to do. He hears a seatbelt click and realizes it’s his own, and hears his door slam and the driver’s side door open, and then the car starts. 

They’re driving, and Buck’s not saying anything to him, and Eddie desperately wants him to. He’s growing slowly used to the pain, so that thoughts are coming more easily, and they’re all terrible and he just wants to hear Buck’s voice, even if it’s yelling at him. 

“I thought you were done with this,” Buck says eventually. 

“Was,” Eddie breathes. “Just...needed t’...let off some steam.”

“And there wasn’t any better way to do that?”

“Sorry.” He genuinely is sorry. He knows this hadn’t been his best idea, but he’d just felt so overwhelmed the past few days, so out of his own control...and he knows this. Knows fighting. So he’d come. He doesn’t suppose he’ll be doing it again, though. 

Buck doesn’t say anything else, and Eddie wishes again that he would, that he’d lecture him forever, tell him he hates him, anything, just so that he knows Buck’s still there. So he knows he’s not alone.

“It’s okay, Eddie,” Buck says, which is not at all what Eddie’d expected him to say next. His hand comes to rest on Eddie’s thigh, a grounding weight, and Eddie focuses on it, on Buck, for all he’s worth. 

“I get it,” Buck continues. “As much as I can, anyway. I’ve been known to cope poorly with things too.” He laughs, short and low. 

“And I’m mad at you. Really mad. Your - well, you know - you went back to something you promised you were done with and you really got hurt, Eds.”

He knows. God, he knows. He feels the hot tears return to his eyes and tries valiantly to hold them back, like he’s losing something by letting them go now, with Buck. 

The car stops, then, and Eddie feels it shift into park. Buck’s hand moves from his leg to his face, brushing away the tears that have begun to fall despite Eddie’s best efforts. There’s a gentleness to the touch that he hates and loves in equal measure. 

“It’s okay,” Buck repeats. “It’s gonna be okay, Eddie.”

He wants to believe that. He does. And when it’s Buck saying it...

Very slowly, Eddie opens his eyes, needing suddenly to look at Buck. His eyes are shiny in the dark, familiar and comforting amidst the pain. 

I love you, Eddie thinks, and the pain must make him bold for a split second, because he lifts his left hand to place it atop Buck’s, still on his cheek, and says it out loud. 

Buck says nothing, but gently moves Eddie’s hand and his own, and gets out of the car. For a single second Eddie panics, but then Buck’s opening his door into the parking lot of the hospital and giving him a hand out, not even waiting for Eddie to stumble before grabbing hold of him. But instead of supporting him around the shoulders, Buck very carefully hugs him and presses a soft, quick kiss to Eddie’s temple. 

“I love you, too,” he whispers against Eddie’s skin, and without another word he’s leading Eddie along to the Emergency entrance, the letters glowing in the dark like blood, or maybe like the pink Eddie sees on Buck’s cheeks. He’s a little too dizzy to think too hard about which it is, but the dizziness seems like the least important thing in the world. He keeps his eyes open, focusing them on Buck and Buck alone.

“I love you,” he says again, like he needs to be sure Buck had really heard him, like Buck knows what he’s getting himself into. 

“You said that already,” Buck reminds him, stopping for a brief second to return Eddie’s gaze, strong and sure even through the dark, “but you can say it again as much as you want. I love you, too.”

They step together through the sliding doors, Buck’s arm around Eddie’s shoulder, and despite the pain still raging in his arm, Eddie finds himself smiling. He loves Buck. 

And Buck loves him, too.

skhfldsfhldfsd i hope you liked this!!! i feel i may be too repetitive with my constant “eddie gets hurt and then there’s a love confession and it’s very sweet” fics but they bring me a lot of joy lmao. but let me know if there’s something you’d rather me do! anyhow thanks for reading :)

[ceealaina]

Title: Weird Science Collaborator Name: ceealaina Card Number: 3088 Link: AO3 Square Filled: A5 - Bodysharing Ship: IronHusbands Rating: E Major Tags: MIT Era, Bodyswap, Hand Jobs, Summary: In a series of unfortunate events, a lab incident leads to Tony and Rhodey switching bodies -- the same weekend that Tony absolutely has to go home. Now Tony has to get everything back to normal while evading his parents, Jarvis, and dealing with a super cranky Rhodey. (It would help if he was slightly less distracted by wanting to touch his new body all over.) Word Count: 5418

Tony opened his eyes and then immediately closed them again, groaning as his head pounded in response. “Oh god, what the fuck happened?” he asked. 

Then he froze, because that… Wasn’t his voice. 

Very, very slowly, he opened his eyes, looking across the room only to see, well, himself staring back at… Himself. Tony watched his own eyes grow wide, a very bad feeling growing in his stomach. 

“Rhodey?” he asked at the same time that his own body asked, “Tones?” They stared at each other for a long time. 

“Oh, shit.”

Tony was the first to speak as the fact that he and Rhodey had switched bodies started to really sink in. “Okay.” He covered his mouth with his hand, something he’d seen Rhodey do a thousand times when he was nervous, and quickly dropped it to his side again. “Okay, this is… Fine.”

“Fine?” Rhodey repeated in a high, screechy voice. 

Tony glared at him. Being the youngest person at MIT was hard enough. He worked very hard to keep his voice from doing that in public, thank you very much. But Rhodey didn’t seem to notice.  

“Tony, this is not fine! Nothing about this is fine!” 

“Just… Stop panicking!” 

“Stop panicking, he says. How am I not supposed to panic when you are inside me.”

Tony blinked at that, then choked, biting at his lower lip. He didn’t want to laugh, but he couldn’t help it. Tony snorted, the sound turning to full laughter as Rhodey glared at him, and wow, Tony was hot when he made that face. He’d have to keep that in mind. 

“I cannot believe you’re laughing right now.” 

“I’m sorry!” Tony protested. “It’s just… you said ‘inside me.’”

Tony gave an undignified yelp as Rhodey launched the closest piece of lab equipment he could find at him, but his body moved on instinct, ducking easily out of the way so that the screwdriver clinked harmlessly to the ground somewhere behind him. 

“Wow!” Tony straightened back up, staring down at his hands. “Your reflexes are so much better than mine!”

“Tony! This isn’t a damn science experiment. I told you not to mess with that shit, and what do you do? Immediately start messing with that shit.” 

Tony rolled his eyes and moved back over to the machine he’d created, only stumbling a little as his brain tried to adjust for Rhodey’s gait. “Okay, in my defense, you weren’t supposed to be here.” 

“That doesn’t make me feel better. So what, you were going to transfer your subconsciousness to the computer?” He wrinkled up his nose, face scrunching into something wholly displeased and unattractive.

“Stop doing that with my face,” Tony told him, starting to adjust the settings on the machine. “It’s fine, really. I do actually know what I’m doing sometimes. It’s simple, really. All I have to do is reverse the polarity, and… Oh. Shit.” 

Rhodey drew in a deep breath, obviously trying to keep his cool. “What ‘oh shit?’” 

“Umm.” Tony ducked down, partly to avoid Rhodey’s gaze and partly to check if the damage was as bad as his initial assessment. It was worse. “Okay, so the circuits are totally fried. I’m gonna have to rebuild the entire thing. It’s fine!” he added hastily as he straightened back up in time to see Rhodey running his hands through his hair, adding an extra three inches to Tony’s height. “I already built it once. The second time’ll be easy. It’ll just take me a couple days. Especially with your clumsy fingers.” 

“My fingers aren’t clumsy,” Rhodey grumbled automatically, but he seemed to be calming down a little, and that was something. “So what, we’re just supposed to walk around, pretending to be each other?” 

“It’s two days,” Tony said again. “Monday at the latest. That’s nothing. We’ll just say we gave each other the flu, call in sick to everything we have to do. I’ll hunker down here, you can hang out at the apartment. Nobody will even have to know.” 

“Uh-huh.” Rhodey folded his arms across his chest and arched an eyebrow, and Tony made a face; it was weird seeing a look that was so quintessentially Rhodey on his own features. “Think you’re forgetting something there, dumbass.” 

“Yeah?” Tony was half distracted, already making lists in his head of what he’d need to do to repair the machine. “What’s that?” 

“Isn’t this the weekend that you’re supposed to go visit your parents? That big fancy party your mom’s throwing?” 

Tony stared up at Rhodey in horror, feeling the blood drain from his face. “Oh no.” 

“Oh yes,” Rhodey confirmed. “And I don’t think the flu excuse is gonna work this time, since that’s what you told her two weeks ago. And the month before that. I’m pretty sure there’s a limit to how many times you can get the flu in one semester. In fact, I seem to remember her telling you that if you tried to bail again, she’d come up here herself and drag you home by the hair.” 

Tony buried his face in his hands, panic flaring through him. “This can’t be happening!” he wailed, even though he knew Rhodey was right. There was absolutely no getting out of this. “What am I gonna do? Why did it have to be this weekend?” 

“I’m sorry,” Rhodey told him dryly. “Did next week fit your schedule better for swapping bodies?” But as Tony gave him a half-hearted glare, he came around, placing his hands on Tony’s upper arms. “Hey, it’s going to be okay,” he told him, calm now in the face of Tony’s panic -- that was how they worked. God only knew what would happen if they both panicked at the same time. Explosions, probably. “Tell your parents you’re bringing a friend with you for the weekend. I can come along, and then at least we’ll have an excuse to be together. You can work on it there, and kick me if I say the wrong thing, and it’ll be fine.” 

Tony gave him a skeptical look. “You just want an excuse to go up to New York so you can yell at Howard.” 

“Always,” Rhodey agreed easily. “But if it makes you feel any better, I promise I’ll be on my best behaviour while I’m inside you.” He phrased it that way on purpose, grinning when Tony cracked a smile. “It’s gonna be fine.” 

***

Tony was lucky that everyone was used to him bringing home projects from school. Jarvis didn’t even bat an eye when he came to pick them up and Tony loaded an enormous box full of mechanical parts into the backseat, just greeted them both warmly, took their luggage, and asked if they had any music preferences for the drive. That was one advantage to the two of them going, anyway; he’d already warned Rhodey not to let Jarvis catch him alone to make sure he was really okay, like he did every time Tony was back home. There was no way he’d be even remotely fooled if he had any one-on-one time with Rhodey.

Maria, Rhodey had reported after one very tense phone call, was thrilled that Tony was bringing Rhodey along. She’d liked him the few times she’d met him, thought he was a good influence. But Tony thought it was more likely that she was hoping a guest would keep Tony and Howard on their best behaviour. She really should have known better. 

Howard hadn’t been there to greet them, or as Maria gave Rhodey a tour of the house and showed him to the guest room beside Tony’s room. He had missed the start of dinner too, striding in just a little too purposefully as Jarvis was clearing the appetizers. He hadn’t reached the point of stumbling yet, but Tony could tell he had already been into the scotch. His eyes had slid over Tony as he took his seat, and Tony resisted the urge to shudder at the obvious disdain in his expression. 

“Who the hell are you?” 

“Howard.” Maria looked tired already. “This is James Rhodes. Tony’s roommate at MIT?” 

“Jim,” Tony corrected, like he’d heard Rhodey do a thousand times. He knew his voice didn’t sound right, but it wasn’t as though they would know the difference, and Howard had already dismissed him, eyes turning to Rhodey, who was meeting Howard’s gaze way more head on than Tony ever did. Tony winced into his water glass; that wasn’t a good start.

“And what are you working on?” he asked, tone derisive, ready to tear apart whatever his response was. Rhodey opened his mouth to reply, and Tony knew this wasn’t going to go well. 

“AI,” he burst out, kicking Rhodey hard under the table. “Isn’t that what you were telling me? Tones?”

Rhodey drew in a deep breath but managed to get himself under control. “Yup,” he agreed, voice tight. “AI.” 

Howard rolled his eyes. “Sounds like a waste of time,” he decided. 

“Maybe the AI can find Captain America for you,” Tony grumbled at the table, forgetting for a moment that Howard’s quest to find a long-dead super soldier was supposed to be classified. Thankfully, nobody was paying attention to him except for Rhodey. 

***

Somehow they managed to make it through dinner, and Tony and Rhodey had made a quick escape back to Tony’s bedroom. They’d dicked around for a bit, Tony talking through his plan for rebuilding their body… transporting… machine (he really needed a name for that) and Rhodey bitching about what an absolute asshole Howard was (he wasn’t wrong). But it had been an incredibly long day, and eventually Rhodey slipped off to his own bedroom to get some sleep. 

Tony had gone through his normal bedtime routine perfunctorily, brushing his teeth and changing into pajamas. He’d flipped off the lights and slid into bed and was suddenly left with the realization that he was alone, in the dark, and this was Rhodey’s body, that fact seeming like a much, much bigger deal than it had before. 

The problem was that lately he’d been… Noticing Rhodey more and more. Getting distracted by his arms, or his chest, or his smile, thinking about him when he wasn’t even around. Tony kept telling himself it was just that they spent most of their time together, and he wasn’t dating, and eventually it would go away, but so far that hadn’t been the case. Quite the opposite, actually. He kept resisting calling it a crush but, well, that’s exactly what it was. 

And now he was lying in bed, in the dark, hyper aware of the fact that he always jerked off before bed, but oh, hey. This wasn’t his body. For longer than he felt really comfortable with, Tony was tempted anyway. Wanted to slip out of his clothes, wrap his hand around his cock. Get to see what Rhodey looked like, feel the weight of him in his hand, find out what made him twitch, and gasp, and moan, and go cross-eyed. It would probably be his only chance to find out. 

But even as he thought it, he knew he wasn’t going to go through with it. Of course he wasn’t going to go through with it. That crossed all sorts of lines that he wasn’t going to cross, even if his brain wouldn’t shut up about it. 

Sighing, Tony slid back out of bed and turned on the light, spreading the machinery over the floor as he got to work on rebuilding the machine. 

He ended up staying up the entire night, losing track of time like he always did. It hit him harder now though, and by the time the sun was well up and Rhodey was slipping in with a mug of coffee and a muffin for him, Tony’s head was pounding and his fingers were shaking. 

Rhodey glared at him as he passed over the goods, face scrunched up sourly, and Tony winced. “Wow, that is not a good look for me.” 

“Did you stay up all night?” Rhodey asked, glare increasing. “You can’t do that with my body, Tones!” 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Why yes, Rhodes. I did in fact make a shit-ton of progress on this machine. We should be able to switch back before we leave for Boston, actually, if I pilfer some stuff from the garage. You're welcome.” 

This news didn’t seem to have the cheer-up effect that Tony was hoping for, Rhodey just glaring at him harder, and Tony pouted a little. 

“Jeez, what crawled up your butt?” he muttered into his coffee cup. 

“Nothing,” Rhodey growled, sounding almost mad about it. 

Giving him a weird look, because what the fuck was his problem, Tony took a sip of his coffee and nearly spit it all over the bed. “Ugh, what the hell is wrong with this? Is the coffee bad? Can coffee go bad?” 

Rhodey took a sip from his own mug, and wrinkled his nose. “No sugar. I made it black, like you usually take it. But I guess, technically, you’re not the one drinking it.” He yanked the cup out of Tony’s hand, ignoring the faint whine of protest that slipped out of his mouth as he passed him the other one. “Drink this one instead.”

Tony sipped the coffee with Rhodey’s customary three servings of sugar, expecting it to be awful, but was pleasantly surprised by the flavor. He hummed as sweet, sweet caffeine filtered through his body, thankful that that, at least, was a common factor between them. 

“You said we’d be back to normal by tomorrow?” Rhodey asked, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. 

“Yeah, I think so. We’ll still have to go to the party tonight, but I figure we can get away with hiding away up here today. I can get most of it done and then we sneak down to the garage early tomorrow morning and be back to normal before Jarvis takes us back to Boston.”

“Good,” Rhodey grumbled. “Can’t come soon enough.” 

*** 

Tony didn’t know what Rhodey’s problem was. Normally he could be counted on to be in a good mood; he was easy-going, especially compared to Tony’s chaotic energy, and it took a lot to phase him. But today he was a miserable excuse for a human, growly and grouchy, and his mood only got worse as the day went on. There wasn’t much he could do to help with the rebuilding -- Tony wasn’t great at explaining his thought processes, and sometimes it was easier to just let him handle it -- but it wasn’t like letting him go wandering around the house where he could encounter Howard, or Maria, or Jarvis was a smart plan either. So he was stuck in the bedroom with Tony, flicking through the channels on the television and bitching about everything from the weather to Tony’s body’s tendency to constantly fiddle his hands. 

By the time they had to get ready for the party, and Rhodey had gone back to his own room to shower and change, Tony couldn’t help feeling a little relieved to get a break from him. He’d maybe been exaggerating slightly about how easy peasy rebuilding the machine would be, and trying to manage it while fending off Rhodey’s bad mood was exhausting. 

He’d been hoping that a shower and maybe a nap would calm Rhodey the fuck down, but if anything he was worse when Tony met him outside the ballroom, glowering at the guests and tugging at the crotch of Tony’s dress pants. “Can’t you wear pants that fit?” he hissed as they moved into the party. 

“My pants fit,” Tony retorted, the only thing he had time to manage before his mother was whisking Rhodey off on a whirlwind tour of business contacts and debutantes. Tony had been dealing with this since he was a little kid, knew how to smile and ask the right questions and play pretend. But Rhodey didn’t, and so all Tony could do was hover by the drinks table and fend off curious looks as he watched Rhodey from across the room, glowering more and more with each new person he was introduced to. 

The second Maria had released him, looking less than pleased with ‘Tony’s’ behaviour, Tony was across the room. He grabbed Rhodey by the arm and yanked him out a side door with a careful look back to make sure no one was watching them. 

“Okay, what the fuck?” he demanded the moment they had some privacy. “What is going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Rhodey grumbled, yanking his arm away with a sullen expression. Vaguely, Tony couldn’t help thinking that it was no wonder that look was so effective at pissing off Howard. He kind of wanted to punch himself in the face right now. Then he looked at him closer. 

“Are you blushing? Stop doing that with my face. You look stupid.” 

“Your face is stupid,” Rhodey shot back automatically, and Tony stared at him. 

“Okay, are you a literal child right now? Seriously, what the actual fuck is going on with you? Are you trying to get me killed? Because that’s what it looks like from here.” 

“It’s nothing!” Rhodey insisted. “Don’t be such a drama queen.” 

“I’m not. Howard will literally kill me if he thinks I’m doing something to ruin Mom’s party.” 

Rhodey looked a little guilty at that. “I wouldn’t let him hurt you, Tones. You know that.” 

Tony felt some of his anger dissipate, warm butterflies fluttering in his stomach at how easily protective Rhodey was. “I know,” he said. “Come on, would you just tell me what's wrong?” he asked again, this time. “Is it really that bad being stuck in my body?” 

“Well it wouldn’t be if your dick would just calm down!” Rhodey snapped before his eyes went wide, colour draining from his face. He buried his face in his hands. “Oh god. Please just pretend I didn’t say that.” 

“Oh.” Tony cleared his throat a little awkwardly. Admittedly, his sex drive was kind of stupidly high, even for someone his age. It just hadn’t occurred to him that that would be what was going on here. “That’s what’s got you all on edge? I thought there was an actual problem.” He winced at the baleful look that Rhodey sent him between his fingers; that probably hadn’t been the most sensitive of responses. “No, I just mean… You can go ahead and…” Tony made an abortive motion with his hands, trying not to get distracted by Rhodey’s long fingers. “Like, you have my permission. To do… whatever… you need to… do.” 

Rhodey made a pained noise. “You think I haven’t tried that?” he asked, and Tony felt his brain white out at the admission. For a minute all he could focus on was the idea that Rhodey had been jerking off his dick, that Rhodey knew what he felt and looked like, that he had felt comfortable enough with Tony to just go ahead and do it. For all Tony’s internal conflict about touching himself in Rhodey’s body, knowing that Rhodey had done the same with him didn’t feel like a breach of trust in the slightest. Then, abruptly, he realized that Rhodey was still speaking. “It didn’t work, I couldn’t… get there. I don’t know, it felt all weird. Seriously dude, does your dick have a trick shot or something to come? I’ve been goin’ around half hard all day, in someone else’s body. That’s why I’m so pissed off.” 

“Oh,” Tony said again. He could feel his heart racing, felt a little like he might pass out. “I could, uh…” He trailed off, hoping he wasn’t going to get punched in the face for what he was about to suggest. “I could show you? What I usually do, I mean. If that would help?” 

Rhodey froze. “You’d do that?” 

Tony gave a lazy shrug, trying to feign a coolness that he didn’t feel. “It’s only fair, right? It is still my body, makes sense that I’d show you how it works. And you’re kind of a bitch to be around right now, so it’s not like I’m only doing this from the goodness of my heart, here.” 

God, Rhodey had no idea. 

“What about the party?” Rhodey asked, but eyes were dark and his voice had gone low and rough, and Tony knew he was going to say yes. He shrugged again. 

“You’ve already done the rounds with Mom. She’ll leave you alone now, especially since I’m here too. And I grew up in this house. I can get us back upstairs without anyone noticing.” 

Rhodey nodded, tongue flicking out over his lip, and nonsensically Tony wondered if he always did that when he was horny. “Yeah, alright,” Rhodey agreed. “It’s worth a try.” 

***

They ended up in Tony's bedroom -- his actual bedroom, not the one that he’d been using as Rhodey -- not quite meeting each other’s eyes as they stripped out of their jackets and ties and pants until they were left in boxers and t-shirts. 

“How, uh… How do you want to do this?” Tony asked, eyes focused somewhere on his own collarbone. 

Rhodey’s eyes went wide. “I don’t know, man. This was your idea!” 

“Okay.” He gave Rhodey a crooked smile, trying to ease some of the tension in the room. “I mean, do you want me to just talk you through it? Call in from another room with walkie talkies? Or… Are you gonna freak out if I touch you?” 

Rhodey snorted, rolling his shoulders back. “No. It’s not like I’ve never been touched before,” he pointed out, but he was posturing just a little, Tony could tell. 

He hummed, consideringly, and his gaze drifted lower, blinking when he realized that Rhodey was hard. It was kind of weird, looking at his own erection from this angle, but also it was Rhodey. “Okay, what if… What if I just sit behind you, on the bed, and then I can just…” He made a jerk off motion with his hand, grinning when Rhodey bit back a laugh. “Do it like it’s me.” 

Rhodey nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat when his voice cracked on the word. “Yeah,” he said again. “Let’s try that.” 

They didn’t speak as they shifted into position, Tony sitting back against the mountain of pillows, bending his knees and spreading his legs wide enough to leave room for Rhodey to settle between them, back to Tony’s chest. Rhodey was tense and stiff in front of him -- and not (entirely) in the good way -- and Tony dug his knee against his ribs. 

“Hey, we don’t gotta do this, you know. If you need to stop or something, just say the word.” 

In response, Rhodey elbowed him in the stomach, making him grunt. “What, are you chickening out on me, Stark? Man up!” 

Tony rolled his eyes and then pushed Rhodey’s t-shirt up, stroking his fingers down over his ribs. Rhodey made a soft, punched out noise at the touch and Tony grinned. “Feels good, huh?” 

“Yup,” Rhodey bit out, but he was still tense so Tony figured he’d skip the foreplay and move right to the good stuff. He rolled his boxers down over Rhodey’s hips, noticing the way that Rhodey inhaled sharply, stifling a whine as his cock sprang free, hard and wet at the tip and twitching in the cooler air of the room. 

“There we go,” Tony hummed, curling his hand loosely around Rhodey’s cock and giving it a slow stroke. Almost instantly, Rhodey melted back against him, body going limp as he let out a low groan. Tony shuddered a little in response, the sound going right through him. He pressed in closer, rubbing his cheek against Rhodey’s hot shoulder. “Feels good, right?” he purred, and the fact that he was speaking with Rhodey’s voice in that tone sent heat flaring through his body. “I’m really sensitive,” he admitted softly, stroking his thumb over the head of his cock until Rhodey’s hips rocked up against him. “Gotta start out light, or else it’s too much.” 

He tightened his fist just a smidge and Rhodey’s breathing picked up, panting hard as he squirmed back against him. “Jesus Christ, Tones,” he muttered. His hands twisted in the sheets, hips rocking. “Fuck, that feels good.” 

Tony grinned against his shoulder, fighting back the urge to kiss him. He could feel himself getting hard against Rhodey’s back but did his best to ignore it, instead twisting his hand over the head of his cock so that the next stroke was wet and slick.

“Christ, Tones. Is it always so… Much?” 

“Usually,” Tony admitted. “It, uh… It helps having a partner.” 

Apparently something about that was appealing to Rhodey, because he ground back against Tony, and Tony couldn’t help the low noise that he made as his cock rubbed up against his own ass because wow. His butt really was phenomenal. 

He nearly giggled at that thought, but then he tightened his hand a little more, picking up speed, and Rhodey practically wailed in response. Instinctively, Tony clapped his hand over his mouth, just in case any other party guests had had the idea to slip away and overheard them. Rhodey only groaned harder, cock throbbing in Tony’s hold and his hand scrabbled to grip at Tony’s wrist, trying to increase the speed, or get him to go harder, or something.

“Oh yeah,” Tony huffed out a soft laugh. “I really like that too. Being pinned down, held in place.” He tightened his legs around Rhodey, pulling him in closer. The height difference between them was minimal enough that Tony had never really paid attention to it before, but suddenly, all folded around Rhodey like this, he was conscious of every inch of difference between them. Not just height, but build too, his arms thick and muscular compared to Tony’s more wiry frame. Suddenly, Tony desperately wanted his body back, wanted to be the one wrapped up in Rhodey’s hold, thick arms holding him down. He could imagine it too clearly, couldn’t help grinding harder against Rhodey at the thought. 

“Tones,” Rhodey gasped out, his free hand clutching at Tony’s thigh. “I’m so…” 

“Yeah?” Tony hummed, trying to pretend like he wasn’t hard and leaking too, dangerously close to coming in his boxers. “Gonna come for me?” 

Rhodey groaned, shifting in Tony’s hold. “I want… I need…” He twisted his head back, the angle awkward, but then he was kissing Tony. It was wet and messy, the angle awkward, and the kisses were more panting against each other’s mouth than anything, but Tony had never felt anything so amazing. He tightened his grip around Rhodey, moving his other hand to scratch over the inside of his thighs and Rhodey sobbed against his lips as he came, spilling over Tony’s hand.

“Oh shit,” Tony mumbled, stilling himself against Rhodey’s back and fighting back his own groan. He stroked Rhodey through it, touch lighter with each pass, until Rhodey went completely limp against him, letting Tony take the entirety of his weight. “Good?” Tony asked, eyes trained on the drop of sweat sliding down the length of his neck. 

“Fuck, man.” Rhodey’s voice was raw. “That was incredible.” He shifted against him, trying to get more comfortable, and Tony made a punched out noise as he dragged against his still aching cock in the process. Rhodey frowned, sitting up to look at him a little better. “You didn’t…?” 

“Well, you know.” Tony rubbed his hand over his mouth, shrugging a little awkwardly. “I thought we were doing this for you and so it might be a little weird if I… You know.” 

Rhodey pulled away entirely then, turning around to face him properly. “Tony, you are the dumbest genius I’ve ever met,” he informed him before shifting forward and kissing him properly this time, grinning at him dopily when he pulled back again. His hand slid down to cup Tony’s cock through his boxers, making him whine, and he smirked at him. “Now how’s this body of yours at giving blow jobs?” 

Tony stared at him, and then he was groaning as Rhodey’s hand squeezed and he came in his boxers. He slumped forward against Rhodey, breathing hard into his shoulder while he shuddered through the aftershocks, Rhodey’s hand tracing soothing strokes up and down his back.

“Jesus Christ,” Tony muttered, when he felt like he could breathe again. 

“No kidding,” Rhodey told him, voice teasing. “Never took you for being such a quickdraw.” 

“Excuse me?” Tony gaped at him as Rhodey slid off the bed, disappearing into the bathroom and coming back with a damp washcloth. “Are you kidding? You were pressed up all against me, panting and moaning. Like you would have lasted half as long in the same situation. And anyway, this is your body, dumbass. If anyone’s the quickdraw here, it’s you.” 

Rhodey snorted as they stripped off the last of their clothes and cleaned up. “Orgasms are 99% mental, Tony.” 

Tony shook his head as he climbed under the covers with Rhodey, the thought that maybe he should go back to ‘Rhodey’s’ room never even occurring to him. “What kind of idiot told you that? And you believed them? That sounds like terrible math. There’s no way that’s true.” 

They were still lazily trading insults when they drifted off to sleep. 

***

Tony opened his eyes and then immediately closed them again, groaning as his head pounded in response. “Oh god, what the fuck happened?” he asked. 

Then he froze as he remembered everything. Keeping the rest of his body perfectly still, he opened his eyes just in time to see Rhodey on the other side of the garage, doing the same thing. 

“Oh, thank god,” Rhodey muttered, and Tony felt a matching wave of relief as he watched him pat down his body, checking to make sure everything was as he had left it. 

Tony got to his feet and grabbed the sledgehammer that he’d left nearby before turning the machine. Beaming, he passed it over to Rhodey. “Care to do the honours?” 

When Rhodey had finished smashing the machine to smithereens, a pleased smile on his face, there was a long moment of slightly awkward silence. “So,” Tony said, trying to quell the anxiety that was building in his stomach. “Back to our own bodies, huh?” He didn’t know what this meant for them, if fooling around last night (and then again this morning) was just a one off from an extreme situation, an extended science experiment. Didn’t know if Rhodey would just want to pretend it had never happened. 

But before he could really work himself up into a panic, Rhodey was turning to face him. And as Tony stared at him, confused, he curled his arms around his neck and drew him in for a slow, lazy, perfect kiss. 

“Now that feels right,” Rhodey declared, and that dopey smile looked way better on his own face. “Getting to kiss you is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. And having my own mouth back to do it helps.” He gave Tony’s shoulder a warm squeeze. “Come on, Tones, let’s go home.” 

EPILOGUE

They were just about the pull out of the driveway when Howard came storming out of the house, looking furious about something. Tony winced, fighting back the urge to slink down beneath the window until he was out of sight. 

“Can we just go, Jarvis?” 

“No, wait!” Rhodey yelped before Jarvis could switch the car into gear. “I forgot something!” 

He was out of the car before Tony could protest otherwise, and as he watched with a mixture of horror and awe, Rhodey stomped up to Howard, said something he couldn’t quite hear, and promptly punched him in the face.

Tony stared with wide eyes as Rhodey turned back to the car, moving at not-quite-a-jog, and then slowly turned his eyes to meet Jarvis’ gaze in the rearview mirror. He was a little terrified at what he’d find, but Jarvis was smiling back at him. 

“Anthony,” he said, “Let me be the first to tell you how much I absolutely approve of your new boyfriend.” 

Tony stared at him as Rhodey climbed back into the car, beaming and just a little out of breath, and gave Tony’s hand a squeeze. “Okay, now we can go.” 

[moonlightandlilacs]

A Little Puppet Dance - Ch. 1

A The Cabin in the Woods fanfiction.

Ch. 2 / AO3

Marty has some misgivings about splitting up, and Dana seems to be the one with the clearest head, so maybe they should stick together. He chooses to pull her into his room instead of letting her go into her own. This one small act throws off the Organizations plans in a major way and has the potential to change all of their futures.

“Everyone, get in your rooms!”  Curt ran for the breach, grabbing onto the zombie arm extending from it, and the others scrambled to obey him.  Panic was nearly overwhelming Marty, but something was still tickling at the back of his brain.

‘Splitting up is never a good idea.  It always gets people killed,’ he considered silently.   As Dana turned into her room and Holden kept moving, Marty made a rapid decision, grabbed Dana’s arm, and swung her into his own room instead.  He was somewhat vindicated a moment later as the door slammed shut of its own accord behind him, catching the back of the hem of his button-up in it.

Dana shrieked in fright at being grabbed and thrown into the room, and she cried out again at the sudden noise of the door crashing closed.  She whipped around to face him.

“Marty!  What are you doing?!  We were supposed to split up and secure our rooms!”  Marty grimaced, both at her shrill tone and the words.

“Dana, you’ve watched plenty of horror movies-” he almost said ‘with Jules’ but then remembered the disturbing sight of her bloody, decapitated head and swallowed down the words and the accompanying nausea.  “You know what happens when everyone splits up!”

The redhead glared at him.  “This is real life, Marty, not a movie!”  He stepped toward her, only to realize that his shirt was shut in the door.  Grumbling to himself, he tried to yank it out, but it wouldn’t budge.  The door proved to be locked, as well.

“There are - a little help here - zombies out there - seriously, Dana, please help - and our friend has been murdered.”  Dana, who had finally stepped in his direction, flinched, but she still made her way over to assist him.  “I think we can safely say that the normal rules don’t apply.”

She joined him in tugging at the hem of his shirt, but to no avail.  “That doesn’t mean - just take it off, Marty - doesn’t mean that the horror movie rules do,” the woman affirmed.  Marty gave in and shrugged off his outer shirt, leaving it hanging from the doorframe.  He then grabbed Dana by the arms and looked her in the eyes.

“Jules went outside to have sex with her boyfriend and was killed.  We’re a group of young people on vacation in a cabin in the middle of nowhere.  Doors here open and close for no fucking reason, including the trapdoor to a mysterious basement full of random creepy shit like torture diaries with Latin incantations in them.  And now there are zombies that throw our friend’s head at us, and Curt’s telling us to split up.  I think it’s an appropriate fucking comparison, Dana.”

Dana seemed to consider this for a moment, and then she was wrenching out of his grip, dropping to her knees in the corner, and vomiting on the floor.  Marty winced and knelt beside her, pulling her hair back with one hand and rubbing her shoulder with the other.

“Aww, geez, Dana, I’m sorry.”  Her only response was to heave again, but she didn’t pull away from his hand.  After a few moments, her shudders stilled, and she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“No, no, you’re right.  It makes no fucking sense, but you’re right.  God, what the hell?!”

Marty had no real response to this, so he merely released her hair and slid his hand under her elbow to help her to her feet.  Her freed curls swung into her face, and she flicked one away with a huff.  Noticing this, Marty held up a finger and went over to his bag.  After a moment of rummaging, he produced a black hair band, which he quickly handed over.

“Here.  Don’t want your hair getting in your eyes while you’re slaying zombies.”  Dana took the offered accessory with a small smile and tugged her hair back into a tight ponytail.  She paused  for a moment in thought, and before she could even ask, he was giving her a second tie, which she used to fashion the ponytail into a bun.

“Yeah, why do girls in horror movies just leave their hair down the whole time?  It gets in the way constantly,” she pondered as she worked; Marty merely shrugged.  “And why do you even have these?” The woman inquired as she let her hands fall.  He flashed her a grin.

“For one, they’re useful to have, especially for someone with my… horticultural habits.  For another, Jules was always in need of one, and she always forgot to supply them for herself.  I got rather accustomed to carrying them around.”  Only after he finished the statement did he remember the fate of said friend, and his smile disappeared in an instant.  For a moment, they had been interacting so much like normal that he had been able to forget about the grisly last several minutes.

Brought back to himself, he also realized that they had never barricaded the window as they had come in to do, and he threw himself at the opening.  In his haste, his hip bumped into his bedside table, and the lamp on it crashed to the ground in a smattering of ceramic.

“Do we have anything to block the opening?” He demanded as he pulled the glass pane shut.   Receiving no answer, he turned.  “Dana!  Do we-” the sight of her kneeling on the floor by the lamp stopped him.  “Are you okay?  I mean- stupid question- of course you’re not, but… what are you doing?”  He spotted blood on her hands, but he wasn’t sure if it was from catching Jules’s head earlier or if she had cut herself on the shards from the lamp.  And she still hadn’t responded to him.  “Dana, I think we have bigger things to worry about than a broken lamp on the floor; you can leave it.  Seriously, it’s okay.  ...Dana.  ...Dana?”

Marty swept away some ceramic with his foot to create a space and then knelt down beside her.  Wordlessly, she handed him something she had pulled from the mess.  He was momentarily confused before he recognized that it wasn’t just part of the wiring for the lamp.  Hoping that his next assessment was wrong, he began turning the thing over in his hands, but the more he did so, the more he became convinced that he was correct.  The implications of that were almost more than he could handle in the moment, and he instinctively reached for the drugs in his pocket before Dana interrupted him.

“Is that…”

“It’s a camera,” he confirmed.  She gripped his arm far too tightly as panic began flashing across her face.

“But why?”

“...I don’t know.”

Dana leapt to her feet, snatching the offending object from his hands, and began yanking on it frantically.  The wire stretched its way across the floor and up the corner of the wall as she pulled, and Marty realized that she was hyperventilating with tears streaming down her face.  He quickly got to his feet and reached for her, only to receive an errant elbow to the chest as her movements became more erratic.  Winded, he stumbled back a bit before stepping toward her more cautiously.

“Dana, stop.  Dana, you gotta calm down, please.”  She showed no sign of having heard him.  Hoping to distract her, he tried a different tact: “Dana, we have to cover the window!”  This got a flinch out of the redhead, and she stumbled away from said window, dropping the camera as she did.

“Oh, God, Marty, what the hell is going on?!” She cried as she fell against him.  He caught her carefully, feeling just how hard she was shaking in the process, and led her toward his bed.  She sat down hard without prompting, but when he tried to pull away to barricade the window, she grabbed onto his arm again.  “Marty, why is there a camera?!  Who- what- watching… I just don’t understand!”  She began trembling even harder, and the tears and hyperventilation showed no signs of stopping.  Abruptly, she pulled her knees in toward her chest without releasing him.  “Oh, God, I’m feeling sick again.  Marty, what do we do?!”

“Hey, Dana, breathe.”  She took a shuddering breath and let it out as he tugged her knees away with his free hand.  “Good.  Now, here.  I know you don’t usually smoke, but this will help, I promise.  It’ll make you less nauseous, and it’ll calm you down.”  When Dana gave no indication of arguing, Marty reached behind him toward his dresser and grabbed a small joint off of the top.  Lighting it and taking a short puff, both to get it going and because he wasn’t exactly serene himself,  he offered it to her.

She took a deep drag and let it out after a moment with a small cough.  Marty nodded encouragingly, and she took another few before handing it back.

“Thank you, Marty,” she murmured as she wiped her tears.  “I just…”

“Hey, no, I get it.  This is fucking terrifying, and I don’t blame you for freaking.  You’re just really smart, and I need your head in the game here.”  With this, Dana squared her shoulders, and her shakes slowed nearly to a stop.

“Alright.  So, camera.  Someone is watching.  Why?  Did they know this was going to happen?”  Her voice was almost businesslike now as she rose and headed back to the corner.

“Puppeteers,” Marty muttered as something clicked in his brain again.  Before he could explore it, though, he heard a small metallic creaking noise, followed by a hiss.  This also seemed vaguely familiar, and after a moment, he placed it with Curt’s sudden change of mind.

“Dana, do you hear that?”  As he looked around, a vent caught his eye.  “I swear that was closed before.”  Confused, he looked to Dana, only to see her swaying in place as her eyes glazed over.  “Dana, get away from the vent!” He shouted as understanding washed over him.  Thinking quickly, he yanked the neck of his long-sleeved shirt over his mouth and nose as he rushed to his friend.  She stuttered to meet him, and he pulled her cardigan up to cover hers as well.

“Marty, the window,” she slurred.  When he only stared at her in confusion, she tugged weakly at his sleeve.  “Open the window.  Air.”

“See?  Really smart.”  She smiled weakly at him as he threw the window back open, and they both breathed in the clean air through their impromptu masks.

A few moments later, Marty heard the hissing stop, but it was quickly followed by the disembodied voice he had heard a few times that night: “Get away from the window, Dana.”

“What the fuck?”  Marty whipped around, looking yet again for the source, but Dana didn’t appear to hear it.

“Get away from the window, Dana,” came the whisper again.  She still didn’t flinch, but she did go to step back.

“Dana, stop!” Marty barked, still looking around.  She stared at him strangely, but she obeyed.  “Do you not hear that?”

“Hear what, Marty?” She replied as he swung the window shut again.  He got the sense that if they hadn’t seen zombies and found an unexplained camera, she would have been telling him he was too high again.

“The voice.  I heard it before, in the basement, and again in here earlier.  I couldn’t understand it then.”

“Understand what?  What voice?  What’s it saying?”  That almost pitying look had vanished, and she was looking frightened again.

“How do they know our names?  Or at least yours...”  Now he was thinking out loud, but this was enough for Dana.  She broke out in a cold sweat and began surveying the room in a near panic.

“Get away from the window, Dana!” The whisper was more commanding this time, and Dana let out a small cry of alarm as she heard it.

“Marty, what’s happening?”  She staggered away from the window in terror, scuttling backward on her hands when she fell.

“I don’t know, but something is majorly wrong here,” he asserted as he turned to follow her.

As if to underline his point, a zombie smashed the glass of the unattended window, making both adults scream.  Putrid arms wrapped around Marty’s waist and began dragging him out of the room as Dana shrieked his name.

OooOooOooOooO (In the Control Room)

Hadley let out a sigh of relief as the Fool was pulled from the room, kicking and screaming, by Judah Buckner.

“Finally,” he groaned.

“That was too close,” Sitterson agreed as they watched Marty trip and fall to the ground outside the cabin, only to be dragged away by his zombified captor.

“Well, then why didn’t you let me gas them in the first place?  A little Cortisol and they’d have been out like a light, problem solved,” Hadley pointed out with a pout.

“He was giving her some of his weed, which was supposed to have a cognitive suppressant in it.  Should have made them both dumber; he is supposed to be the Fool, after all.  Then we could have just let them be for a bit and dealt with the Athlete and the Scholar first.  And besides, you gassed them afterward, and look how well that worked.”

“That’s what we get for trusting the chem department, huh, Lin?” Hadley grumbled.  “A girl vomits once and panics a little, and her system processes or removes most of the drugs?  What damn good does that do?”

“Oh, shit, speaking of which,” Sitterson interrupted.  “Look.”  He swung the small screen back toward Hadley, showcasing Dana taking a running leap out the window.

“Fuck, she can’t run around out there; the Virgin has to be protected until last, and there are three others left!”  Spotting a small fountain of blood on another camera that tracked with where Judah had been dragging Marty, he amended, “Well, two.”

“Alright, chem, you better get it right this time,” Sitterson growled into the mic as Hadley moved to the lever system.  His partner pulled the lever for the Fool with a bit more relish than was strictly professional and grinned as the resulting earthquake knocked Dana to the ground.  She got to her feet, though, and she moved to keep running.

“Chem, I need more Cortisol in sector 7 around the Virgin.  Knock her out,” Sitterson instructed as Hadley returned to his seat.  Unfortunately, the sprayers that were usually used for pheromone mists didn’t mask the drug the way the indoor ones did, and the gas rose in a visible cloud, but it did its job.  Dana stumbled to a halt after a few moments and then dropped to the moss in a heap.  With a small high five, the two men turned their attention back to the other two sacrifices.  The Virgin would be safe there for a while, and they had a job to do.

OooOooOooOooO

A.N. A big thank you to itslaurenmae for their help on this chapter and for being generally so supportive.

[ragnarachael]

Shoulda, Coulda, Woulda.

Pairing: Deadpool x Daughter!Reader, Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 1,945

Summary: Wade didn’t want to ruin his kid's night with her ‘boyfriend,’ but he didn’t have much of a choice, she had a right to know.

A Note: i really don’t think this is all that different from the original piece i wrote back in june 2018. you can’t fix what ain’t broke? (rereading and editing this, i just realized how close to home this hits right now)

Warnings: a bunch of angst that you probably haven’t seen me write before, major canon character death, cursing, crying, all the sad stuff with a bit of jokes at the end. (i don’t know if it’s considered a fourth wall break, but there’s a reference to your local writer behind the screen)

masterlist

Wade had been sitting in the apartment for a few hours now. He was soaking wet in his shirt and sweats, holding onto Vanessa’s limp, cold body like his life depended on it. He was still covered in the blood of the douchebag that pulled the trigger.

He was still sobbing on and off with the door still broken open and the rain pouring through the open window.

If Vanessa were still alive, she would be huffing at Wade for doing such a thing and then he’d make a joke and then they’d make their way to the bed and celebrate their anniversary as planned.

Of all the days he fucking finished his duties early and had idiots follow him back home, it had to be today.

Y/N had made plans with her friend (more like boyfriend, Wade and Vanessa knew something was up) Peter just so they could celebrate.. accordingly.

How the hell was Wade supposed to walk over to the Parker’s apartment complex in Queens and tell his little girl her mother was dead?

How the hell was he supposed to act like a normal human being when he was covered in two different peoples blood right now?

And more importantly, how was he going to pull himself together and get up from the rug where he sat with Vanessa in his soaking wet arms?

Wade took a deep breath, pressing a kiss to Vanessa’s pale forehead before gently laying her body back where it landed what seemed like hours ago now. He slowly stood up, looking at the clock above their bed, seeing it only being almost nine o'clock at night.

Wade just shook his head and moved to his closet, throwing on a hoodie and a pair of jeans to not only to warm up and hide all of the blood seeping through the cloth fabric, but also so he can get his kid. Poor girl deserves to know what the fuck happened.

Queens was only an hour walk from their complex. The Parker’s was then 20 minutes from that point on. That put Wade in front of the complex doors at exactly 10:30 pm. He pulled his hood off as he walked into the warm lobby, ignoring the gasps from the people in the room as he made his way to the elevator.

He either had a lot of blood on his face, or he still looks like the world’s worst burn victim.

He’ll take either for 200, Alex.

He pressed the seventh floor button once he stepped foot into the elevator. Thankfully, he was completely alone in the metal box and started to try and think of how the fuck he was going to do this.

What do you say to the second best thing that’s happened in your life that the first best thing that’s happened in your life is fucking dead?

The elevator opened up too soon to his liking. It wasn’t slow enough for him to get his shit together and man up enough to march down the hall to get to the Parker’s apartment. Either way, his brain was on autopilot as he walked down the long hall, having dropped her off here earlier in the day before he went to do his shit.

He made the first left he saw prior to earlier in the day, stopping at the second door on the left.

He had hoped Peter wouldn’t answer the door. Y/N didn’t need her happiness to be ruined in this moment. If May answered again, that’d be a blessing within itself.

Wade took a deep, deep breath, trying to get his thoughts together before he removed his right hand from his hoodie pockets and knocked on the door firmly.

He placed his hand back in the pocket and waited. It seemed like an eternity before he saw May’s face contorting from sweet and kind to worried, already seeing Y/N’s father here soon.

“Hey, May. Uh, can I speak with Y/N?” Wade got out before May could ask anything. She was taken aback, his his lighthearted, joke filled tone from the day gone, riddled with sadness.

“Of course, Wade. Come in?” May said gently, opening the door a little wider for him to enter as she turned around to go get Y/N.

Wade slowly entered, closing the door gently behind him. He looked around the apartment, smiling very faintly. It looked cozy and like a home. Compared to the apartment that awaited for both Wade and Y/N, depending on her reaction.

He could hear laughter. It was a combination of Y/N’s laughter mixed with Peter’s. His heart flew up into his throat practically at that.

Wade’s mind slowly started going into panic mode.

He shouldn’t have come, he would just ruin her night with her ‘he’s not my boyfriend, but if he would be his nickname would be honey bun because yes, dad, he’s that sweet.’

Wade heard May and Y/N conversing as she came from the hall from the far left of the door, Y/N freezing when she saw her father.

“Dad? What’s going on? I thought you’d be with Mom tonight..?” She questioned softly, her head tilted as May sent Wade a sad smile, probably knowing something was wrong, before she went back to navigate her way to the kitchen, probably to occupy Peter so he didn’t come out.

Y/N’s tone sent a dagger through his heart. He couldn’t break the news to her like this. 

She was just a kid. His kid. 

He didn’t want her to turn out like him at any point in her life. He didn’t want her to be without a mother. He didn’t want any of this to be a reality but here we are-

“Dad?” Y/N questioned again, carefully reaching a hand out to place on his arm as he just stared at her, the gears shifting around in his head.

Y/N carefully placed her other hand on his other arm to hold Wade steady as he swayed back and forth.

“She’s gone.” Easy. Simple. Filled with all the pain in the world.

Y/N just rose a brow in concern and started to rub at the damp fabric clinging to her father’s arms.

“She who? Mom? Did she go to the store after your rounds and hasn’t come back yet? She probably stopped at that one shop you both love-” Y/N was cut off with Wade’s harsh sigh before his hands went to rub at his eyes, ignoring the horrendous texture as his tears blurred his vision.

His heart couldn’t take the pain it was going through. Well, technically, it could, but that’s not the point.

Y/N was about to list off another thing that her mother could have gone before Wade finally spoke up.

“Sweetheart, no.” 

It was quick and firm, which was the complete opposite of their father-daughter relationship.

Y/N was taken back and moved her hands from her father’s arms, slowly crossing her arms over her chest.

Wade took a moment to notice she was wearing some dumb shirt you could buy from a tourist place. It had a white base with a bright yellow taxi and the ugly letters “I survived my trip to New York!” on it smack dab in the middle.

She doesn’t own that, does she?

His father instincts wanted to kick in and question who’s shirt it was, but he held it back.

“The drug lords I went after during rounds today.. they followed me back. I thought I had enough time to catch the bullet. I.. I thought I hit the fucker,” Wade spat, his voice faltering and cracking at the end of his sentence. Y/N’s face went from confusion to sadness, finally understanding what’s going on.

“It hit your mother,” Wade finished. Rip it off like a bandaid.

“You’re joking, right? This is a sick joke to scare me to leave the house, isn’t it?” Y/N said slowly, her eyes starting to sting from the sudden tears filling her eyes.

Wade saw how her eyes glossed over.

He wanted to rip his heart out of his chest.

“I-I..” Wade sighed and looked down at his boots he pulled on. “I kinda wish it was, but it’s not.”

Wade heard Y/N’s breath hitch before he let out a grunt the second she connected with his chest, her arms wrapped around his middle tightly.

His arms wrapped tightly around his daughter’s frame, finally lifting his head up to rest his chin on her head, his own eyes starting to gloss over.

The silence between them was filled with Y/N’s pained sobs in his chest.

Wade really wanted to crack, but he had to be strong for his girl.

Eventually, Wade had moved his head from the top of his daughters and moved one hand that was around her to wipe his eyes which was when she looked up at him with bloodshot eyes, seeming somewhat recovered.

“W-What are we going to do?” She questioned suddenly, Wade now feeling how tight she was clinging to his hoodie.

He sniffled in response at first. What were they going to do?

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I don’t know,” He concluded finally, shocked his own voice was even steady in the first place.

The both of them started to sway slightly as Wade could hear footsteps coming from the kitchen now.

“I just wanted to tell you, you had a right to know. I plan on heading back and figuring out what to do with her body-”

“She’s still in the apartment?!” Y/N whisper yelled, also hearing the footsteps as she ripped herself from her father's chest.

“What was I supposed to do?! Chuck her out the window with me when I chased down and killed the guy that shot her?” Wade hissed back before the footsteps stopped close to them.

“H-Hey, Mr. Wilson,” Peter said awkwardly, smiling shyly as he held two steaming mugs. Wade rose a brow as he looked at the boy, eyeing the mugs.

“Hey, Peter.” Wade forced a smile at the teen before reluctantly letting Y/N go and let out a soft sigh.

Y/N was quick to pull herself from her father’s arms and walk over to her boyfriend, sniffling as she gave him a small smile before taking a mug of hot chocolate.

“Thanks, Pete. I’ll be back in the kitchen in a sec, okay?” She said quickly, Peter giving her a reassuring smile and encouraging nod before he moved in to quickly kiss her cheek, awkwardly making his way back to the kitchen where his Aunt May resided.

Y/N turned back around to be met with Wade’s look that definitely looked smug.

“So you two are honey buns-”

“Oh my God, shut up,” Y/N insisted harshly as she sipped her mug before placing it on a close by coffee table, Wade letting out a hoarse chuckle.

“Two honey buns in one package? That’s a steal!”

Y/N let out a harsh sigh as a small smile grew on her face before moving back to wrap her arms around him and rest her head on his chest.

“You’re lucky I can’t think of a good come back,” Y/N mumbled Wade letting out a scoff.

“It’s just lazy writing on her end,” he reasoned, gently patting his daughter’s back before she moved her head slightly.

“Who’s lazy writing?”

Wade just huffed and shook his head fondly, moving a hand to cup Y/N’s cheek before dropping another small kiss to the middle of her forehead.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.”

[thewhiterabbit42]

Breakfast in Bed

A sequel to Home

Pairing: Gabriel x Winchester!sister reader Summary:  Gabriel starts his morning by savoring one of his favorite meals.  You.   Written for:@spnkinkbingo Square Filled: Domestic Word Count:  1791 Tags/Warnings: Fluffy feels, oral sex (female receiving), pleasuring awake

It’s amazing how you already know he’s not there in the space beside you.  You don’t even need to check, your arms heavy at your side as sleep keeps your thoughts slurring muzzy.  

“Babe… what’rydo...?” 

Gabriel’s surprised you manage to get that many words out before you slip back out of consciousness, though he can feel the way some parts of your brain are beginning to shake off the fog at the light pressure his mouth leaves as he presses a series of kisses down the center of your body. 

There isn’t as much activity as he pushes your T-shirt up to your chest, exposing the softness of your stomach.  Though, he aims to fix that, but before he does, he takes a moment to admire you, breath ghosting over you in warm, short waves. 

Your skin, however, feels everything, from the sear of his fingers as he palms your waist to the gentle flick of his tongue, warm and wet along your hip.  He can hear your nipples harden, cloth fibers giving the faintest of stretches as peaks form through your shirt.  

He notes with pride the way goosebumps radiate from his touch, your brain cells firing in ways that suggest pleasure rather than alarm. 

You draw the comforter up to your elbows, mistaking everything for a chill. 

He smirks.  "Can't have that, sweetheart."

His hands emerge from beneath the covers, gently cupping your breasts and drawing a breathy sigh from you.  He loves every inch of your curves, how the lean hardness of your old life has faded beneath soft, well-nourished contours.  He could spend hours appreciating them, but that's not on the menu for this morning.

His thumbs begins tracing a wide arc, starting at the edges of soft swells before moving toward the center.  Round and round they go at a maddening pace, drawing your senses into awareness and making them stand on end despite the fact that you're still so very not awake.  

Your body knows, a petulant whimper catching in your throat. Your need sparks; beautiful, fleeting hues across synapses that remind him of clusters of Christmas lights.  You arch into his touch as he continues, feather light, drawing out the colors as he keeps himself just shy of reaching taut nubs.    

They never reach them, and the spectrum that flares when he pulls his hands from your chest resonates closer to frustration.  

That almost rouses you.  Definiately arouses as he listens to the cadence of your heart get a little faster, your blood rushing lower.  

You mumble something that suspiciously sounds like dick, though it’s hard for him to tell.  

His lips give a wide stretch before descending upon your naval, hands teasing along your waist.  They hook beneath the band of your underwear, dragging it down as his fingertips drink in the smoothness of your skin.  

Cotton whispers along your thighs which shift in response, and he leaves the garment bunched around your knees.  He could just snap them away, but you don’t like that.  You want everything to be as normal as possible, and there’s something oddly rewarding to him about doing it all the “hard” way.  

It’s been easier than he thought, living like a human rather than just pretending to be one.  No magic snaps.  No shortcuts.  No mojo whatsoever (save the occasional indulgence in the bedroom), though he still doesn’t understand the need to spend so much time away from you.  

Sure, you both have a keener appreciate for the time together, but he would regardless, knowing that your lifespan will pass by him in the blink of an eye.  

He hasn’t told you that.  He’s not sure how to, because he knows how difficult it is for you already.  You try so hard to keep your insecurities hidden, but he can’t help but pick up on the questions that plague your mind late at night when you think he’s sleeping.  

How long before my youth fades and I no longer catch his eye?

How long before the novelty wears off and he grows tired of me? 

When will he realize he deserves so much more than I can give him?

He doesn’t.  If anything you deserve more, but he has yet to find a way to make you believe that.  

But, most moments you’re happy.  With him.  Together.  And that’s all that matters.  

He brings his mouth down at the edge of your hip, smiling at the way you wriggle as he hits a sensitive spot.  He’s spent hours mapping them out, each one of them seared into his mind.  What really amazes him is the way you’ve diligently memorized his as well, as much as you can anyway, given the limits of human cognition.  

He’s never met anyone who’s so focused on him.  On what he likes.  His thoughts.  His feelings.  It’s like he’s as much your world as you are his, and he almost doesn’t know what to do with that.  

Pleasure, however, now that’s an area he knows.  

By the time he’s scraping his chin against your thigh he’s wearing a full on grin, the familiar tickle lighting up cells across your body and mind in ways he’s never seen with anyone else.  It’s like you recognize him on a whole other level.  With every fiber of your being, you brighten to him and only him, whether or not you’re awake. 

When his tastebuds hit your folds you’re aware enough to hum, and your sweet tang erupts across his awareness like the finest of nectars.  Your legs part unconsciously as he tongues deeper, gliding along your slit to lap up the juices already gathering there before lifting higher.  

It isn’t until he reaches your clit that you finally float into consciousness, pleasure exploding across your neurons like fireworks in the night.  

You gasp, hand shooting straight beneath the covers as your instincts immediately take over.  A fullness spreads through his chest at the way your fingers simply slide through the tangle of curls at the back of his head, fondly stroking, when months ago, you would have wrenched him off you in panic.

“Mmm,” your fingers tighten in his hair as you arch into him.  “Whatcha doin’ down there?”

“Just having some breakfast in bed,” he purrs before getting back to business. 

He knows what you like, working his tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves as his hands reach back up to your breasts.  There’s no teasing this time as his fingers head straight for pebbled peaks, brushing lightly to watch those scintillating colors burst into flames before he gives your nipples a light pinch.  

“Fuck, Gabe,” you groan, legs shifting as you try to shimmy your panties low enough to catch it with a foot.  

He reaches down, assistance given in the quick snap of elastic.  It draws a small white flicker of discomfort through your desire before quickly being drawn into it.  

Your range of sexual appetites has been a pleasant surprise.  You like roughness as much as tenderness, the day and mood determining where along the spectrum you lay.  Right now, you’re happy to let him take the lead, knees eagerly falling open with their freedom as you wait for his next move.  

“Take your shirt off,” he says.  “I want to see you.”

You do, without hesitation, and before the garment even hits the floor he feels his chest stop moving.  

It amazes him, how you're still able to do that.  He's had many attractive paramours over the years, but looks have only held his interest for so long.  Kali held his interest far longer than anyone, her tenacity reeling him back in every time he thought he might be ready to move on.

But you are different.  As cliche as it sounds, you are the embodiment of beauty on every level possible, your mind and body lethal in their own right, but add your heart and soul to that mix and you are nothing short of stunning.  

He can't imagine a time where you won't steal his breath or send a tremor of nerves dancing through his system.  

“You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?”

“Shut up."  It's a knee jerk response, false irritation trying to cover the shy tiny tint that blossoms across your face and tugs at the edge of your lips.

You've gotten much better at accepting compliments from him, and he's noticed it's only in the moments you feel vulnerable that you revert to deflection.

"You're such a dork - stop looking at me.”

He wonders if you realize just how many places you blush when you’re embarrassed?  It’s not just your cheeks that get a dusting of pink, small rosy patches springing up across your chest and highlighting the tops of your breasts.

One day he'll find out just how many other shades he can paint your body on words and looks alone.

“Seriously, Gabe, if you don't get back to business, the only place you'll be dining this morning will be Louise's diner."

He holds back a chuckle, knowing his amusement would only rub salt into the rawness you feel beneath his gaze.

“Somebody’s demanding before they’ve had their coffee."  He infuses just enough sarcasm to toe the line of snarky, a place he finds you feel the safest when exposed. 

"Yeah, well…" You begin talking as he settles between your legs, hands smoothing up the back of your thighs as he hooks your knees over his shoulders.  

"You knew what you were getting into when you -- ohhh."

You groan as the flat of his tongue immediately finds that sensitive spot again, licking broad strokes in ways he knows gets your blood flowing.  

“Ah - You're too good at this."  You throw your head back into your pillow, rocking yourself into his face.

He pauses, just to be a shit, his tongue freezing in place.

"Ith thah a complain'?" He smirks, watching the glow of vivid colors flare bright with burnt copper as he takes it another step further and withdraws his mouth.  "Because if it is, you're welcome to--"

"Eat me, choir boy."  You're only partially joking, fingers grasping strands of honey, tightening their grip before pushing him back into position. 

This time he does chuckle, vibrations jolting your brain waves back to desire as he wisely doesn't argue.  His goal isn’t to tease you, for once.  Not much, anyway.  

No, today is about savoring.  You.  These simple moments where he can pleasure you awake in the comfort of a home you’ve created together, a place where you can slip back into an endorphin-soaked haze without being interrupted while he whips you up an actual meal. 

But first, he needs to finish his.  After all, they say breakfast is the cornerstone of the day.

ALL the tags:

@girl-next-door-writes​ @fand0maniac​ @feelmyroarrrr​​ @lucifer-in-leather​ @blondecoffeecake​  @tistai​ @room-with-a-cat​ @authoressskr​ @revwinchester​ @flufy07​ @tardis-is-mine​ @tangle-of-ivy​ @luciferseclipse @mrswhozeewhatsis @protectivedestiel ​ @angelofwinchester17 @phantomwarrior12 @jeanjeaniethings @wontlookaway @copperseraphim @fandomsrourlives @archangelgabriellives @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @mizzezm @disneymarina @zpandaqueen @idabbleincrazy @katekvnes @han68000 @brokencasbutt67-writer @crashdevlin @klinenovakwinchester @bofa-deans-nuts @sherlockedtash88 @lovelyhexbag

Gabe Squad: 

@bloodstained-porcelain-doll​​ @lacqueluster​ @baritonechick @samikitten​ ​ @kazosa​ @nobodys-baby-now​ @acarpouschimerical​ ​ @cipherwheeldecoder​ ​ @megasimpleplan4ever​ @azlinh​ ​ @fruitypieq​​  ​ @koithings​ @booknerd1324​ @the-kryomancer​ @karichanarts @archangelashiah @calamity-chaos @erisunderthemoon @hankypranky @missihart23 @curious-trickster @gabegirrl86 @trickster-emissarie @sweetmisseddreams2002    @bun-dpdbny @greeneyedtrickster @marichromatic @ourloveisforthelovely @supernaturalways

@a-wing-and-a-pen

[bipabrena]

Rodorah/Mothzilla AO3 fic

Sequel to this. You can read this as a stand-alone, but I suggest you read the prequel so you’re not too confused.

Half-arsed summary: so, in the prequel, a lot happened during the fight that challenged San’s perspective, and conflict brewed in him. He thought he wasn’t too different from Mothra and Godzilla. Ichi was forced to decapitate San after he stopped he and Ni from killing Mothra three times, and he begged the two to listen to him. In this fic, Ichi and Ni panic when San isn’t regenerating no matter how hard they try. Ichi and Ni’s emotional states are explored, while Rodan laments what happened in the previous fight to Mothra and Godzilla, even though his devotion to Ghidorah borders on fanaticism.

When San musters the courage to regenerate, Ichi and Ni are overcome with emotion, but they are soon forced to confront San’s actions in Boston. The change in him is overwhelming, one Ichi and Ni can’t understand.

X

Ni knew it.

He just knew it.

Ichi had always been incredibly perceptive, and his senses were far superior to San’s and his own, but Ni had always had a talent for intuition. For things one couldn’t physically perceive. Things for which he’d normally have no evidence for, but he still had no doubts would happen, in one way or another.

This was the final proof.

He just knew this would happen.

He clenched his jaw so tightly he felt his teeth would shatter. Wrinkles formed around his brow as his frown deepened, and his worried, unblinking eyes wouldn’t leave Ichi.

Ichi’s eyes were closed in a pronounced frown.

He was attempting to concentrate and remain calm as best he could, but he was clearly growing alarmed.

After several minutes, Ichi opened his eyes.

“… Well?” Ni asked.

Ichi stared ahead, at nothing in particular, really.

He seemed neutral, like he wasn’t thinking or feeling anything in particular, really. But if Ni concentrated, he’d see it.

And he did see it.

Behind the façade, Ichi looked like he’d made a terrible realisation, and it was slowly sinking in.

His unblinking eyes darted to Ni.

Ni looked worried. Alarmed.

It was an expression Ichi had never seen in him, and the guilt it made him feel burned his insides.

“I can’t do it,” he said.

Ni had no visible reaction. He didn’t say anything either.

So, Ichi looked ahead again.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when the shadow of a silhouette entered his field of vision. He turned his head slightly.

He found Ni’s impossibly widened, dark and cold eyes looming over him.

It was a frightening expression that forced him to hold his breath.

“What do you mean you can’t do it?” Ni asked coldly.

“What do you mean you can’t do it, Ichi?” he reiterated. “Stop fooling around,” his voice grew more belligerent.

Ichi’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.

He was taken aback when a pronounced scowl overcame Ni with a deep growl.

“Stop fooling around and regenerate!” he demanded.

“I…” Ichi frowned further as the realisation fully sank in. “I can’t. I don’t know why, I just… I—“

Ichi’s eyes twitched when Ni head-butt him and pressed their foreheads together.

“What do you mean you can’t!? You have to do it, Ichi! You have to bring San back!”

Ichi’s mouth opened in a frown. He had no idea what to say.

“You have to bring our little brother back!” Ni shouted, growing less aggressive and more pleading.

“Tch!” Ichi scowled, “I’m trying!”

“You’re not trying hard enough!” Ni growled. “Bring him back!”

Ichi felt like their heart was about to burst.

That’s when he perked up. He looked to the side, and Ni’s instinctive reaction was to understand Ichi had sensed something.

They grew quiet as they heard wings a minute or so later, and Rodan landed before them.

He bowed.

“Your Highness,” he greeted.

Now aware that King Ghidorah liked to keep things short and to-the-point, Rodan didn’t await a response.

“The MUTO has emitted the call. She and Scylla have found an egg in what is supposedly called the Yunnan province. It’s most likely Mothra’s.”

When Ghidorah had no visible reaction, Rodan grew a little nervous.

Especially when he realised the left head hadn’t grown back yet.

“… We didn’t want to do anything without your permission,” Rodan continued. “I can go there myself and destroy the egg before it hatches, or would you prefer to allow her to hatch so she can serve you?”

The anguish plaguing Rodan’s insides worsened by the silent second. Was it because he was aware he’d broken his orders, and silently feared for punishment?

He shivered for a short moment, both because of his lack of familiarity with this freezing weather as because of fear.

“I don’t care,” Ichi said firmly. “We already told you that you’re free to do as you please.”

Rodan’s eyes wavered.

That was true, but… he didn’t want to do anything without his permission. Surely Ghidorah would—

“Rodan,” he said, and Rodan immediately looked at him with wide eyes.

The way his name left the King’s mouth—the way his tongue tipped both syllables against his palate, the firmness and imperialness in his voice.

Rodan could feel his heart thumping.

It was the first time King Ghidorah had ever uttered his name, and it was regal.

“We were clear in telling you you’re free to do as you please for now,” he reiterated.

Ni was entirely silent, as it was evidently Ichi who represented the two.

“Do not come to us unless called. I shall not repeat myself. You will not get another chance. Understand?”

Even though his life was being threatened, Rodan could do nothing but stare in awe.

This magnificent creature, this creature that held unrivalled power, asserted his warnings without violence or anger. He was clearly firm, he was clearly no non-sense, but never unnecessarily belligerent or violent.

Not only was Rodan being allowed to do as he pleased, he was not being punished for breaking his first order.

“Do what you want. Don’t come to us unless we call you.”

His greatness was second to none.

“Yes, sire,” he responded.

He was going to fly away, to relish to himself over his awe-inducing experience; until he saw the right head’s expression.

Clearly worried.

Clearly desperate.

The right head hadn’t heard a single word the leader had said.

It took little to no time for Rodan to understand why.

Was his King hurting?

The possibility alone that this was the case tore something inside Rodan. A stinging feeling similar to the lacerations inflicted by the late Queen, except that this time it ran further, it hurt deeper.

Was it because the left head hadn’t regenerated?

Was there something, anything Rodan could do?

He opened his mouth to say something, but it was forced shut the moment he took a look at the leader.

When he heard his rattling tail, Rodan understood.

His ideals were resolute and inflexible; his devotion bordered on fanaticism, but Rodan still held the instinctive, primal feeling of self-preservation.

He would not risk his life thoughtlessly.

He bowed again, and quickly took to the skies.

The moment Rodan was out of sight, the bravado completely vanished for Ichi.

He felt it at once; the overwhelming pain. It felt as though he were underwater, being dragged down by an impossibly heavy anvil.

The grief was so immense, Ichi felt his heart would burst.

It wasn’t only because of his own pain.

The brothers shared a body; every organ, every vein, every pint of blood.

Their heart.

Their bond was undeniable, resolute and unbreakable; one brother’s grief was the other two’s.

Ni’s grief was his own, and so it added to his own.

The guilt ate Ichi from the inside.

He didn’t know what to say.

“… I’m tired,” is all Ni said after much, lingering silence.

Ichi nodded silently. With a sharp inhale, Ni shifted and sought something that had been carefully placed behind the mountain; something that had been treated with tenderness and care, as though the slightest move would disintegrate it.

He gently, tenderly dragged San’s severed head.

He coiled around the snowy head; nuzzled it, cuddled it. He tried to give the insentient head warmth.

After killing Mothra and Godzilla, after the first regeneration attempt failed, Ni had been a quick thinker. He wasted no time to voice Ichi his suggestion, and Ichi wasted no time to accept it.

These cold, sub-zero temperatures had stopped the decomposition process altogether.

Ni closed his eyes with a distressed, pronounced frown as he cuddled San’s severed head.

Ichi’s lids dropped sadly as he observed Ni dose off.

“Brothers, please, just listen to me for a moment!”

“If I had stopped…” he mumbled to himself, “then the three of us would’ve died…”

No, is what he immediately thought to himself.

Mothra and Godzilla had been as shocked as he and Ni had. They were also incredibly weakened. Mothra’s attacks would’ve had no effect, and Godzilla couldn’t even stand.

Now I’m just making excuses, he smiled sadly to himself.

He shook off his undeniable exhaustion after several days of no sleep, and closed his eyes to start again.

Ichi attempted to concentrate as best as he could.

His cells worked hard. They used signalled pathways to speak amongst each other; they operated as a giant symphony, spreading all across the bloodstream to interact and function as an entire system.

He felt the familiar, ticklish sensation in his nether regions, but nothing happened.

He ignored the sickening throbbing inside his head, the throbbing that was a clear warning he was overexerting himself.

The blood trickling down his nose was ignored as well.

Until it happened.

As a primal, self-defence mechanism, his brain shut down.

The copious blood supply Ichi sent to the inner core of bone to begin the process of rebuilding the missing spine left his brain with little to no blood and oxygen.

As a defence-mechanism, his brain grabbed whatever blood and oxygen it could at the expense of Ichi’s bodily functions.

He completely passed out. The mountain vibrated, and piles of snow fell below when his head hit the rocks with a grating thud.

Read the rest on AO3 here.

[thedarkenedkeeper]

Glitched: Part 16 - Curious I See

Author’s Note: Oh my GAAAWWWWDDDDD!! FINALLY! I FUCKING LIVE!! Jesus FUCKING Christ! *dies*

How I absolutely LOATHED working on this chapter. Don’t get me wrong, I like it and I wrote it because I felt it was necessary for the story, but jfc, I had such a difficult time writing it out the way I envisioned it in my head. I apologize for just how FUCKING long it took for me to get this out. Things came up in my life, it’s been ridiculously hot the last couple of weeks which naturally made me so hot that I didn’t want to do anything. And I’m going away the next few days, so I wanted to get this done before I leave. SO here it is! Hallelujah! 

So I kind of lied, there is some horror in this chapter (surprise, surprise!). I didn’t lie though about it being a “break” chapter so don’t worry - there’s no angst or gore in this, so you can all relax and breathe (’cause believe me, you’re going to need it). Slight warning though: things tend to get quite creepy and uneasy in this chapter (what else is new?). A character is described as a corpse with gross descriptions. 

I’m taking a notebook with me while I’m away so I’ll hopefully get started on Part 17.

Read this while listening to this playlist.

Enjoy the (final) break, guys! ;D

Close your eyes and open your mind. Take deep breaths – inhale and exhale slowly…slowly…slowly…

 Feel your body going slack, feel your muscles loosening and your nerves relaxing. You’re beginning to feel tired but not sleepy, drifting into a state of unconsciousness but still very much awake. You’re floating away into a sea of darkness, and yet you still have a grip on your body, you can feel it. There’s a comforting warmth blossoming in your chest and weaving throughout your veins, relieving you in knowing that you’re alright and your body – your physical body – isn’t going anywhere.  You can’t see anything, even when you open your eyes. There’s nothing but never-ending black – that is until there isn’t.

 The void – an otherworldly dimension of space, a dream within a dream. A haven that you and you alone can escape to and warp to your exact liking, a place where you can become a god and shape your own world with a flick of the wrist and a snap of your fingers. A sanctuary for your inner personas to feel safe and content.  A mind palace where no one but you holds the power and control over everything.

 No one can be let in and no one can be let out.

 Because if something were to somehow find a way to get inside, there’d be no telling what would happen.

 The darkness would probably no longer be your blanket of security. The warmth would probably be sucked from right out of your chest cavity. The air would probably become tainted with something so putrid you’d find yourself suffocating. Something twisted and unearthly would probably have its nails sunk deep into the roots of your safe place, creating its own diseased world. And you would probably find yourself rotting from the inside out, desperately trying to escape from the place you had built and known to have once been wonderful and welcoming.

 The worst part?

 You would probably not notice any of it until it was too late.

 * * * * *

 Why are you out here again?...Oh! Right! ‘Cause you felt like something was wrong and you felt the need to go and see for yourself. Curse you and your instinctive need to make sure everything’s okay!

 The lone hero was currently wandering around in the void – not his specific part of the void but the overall spacious part of the void that didn’t belong to any particular ego. Given just how empty the space was, it was quite literally a never-ending black abyss; not a whole lot of light brightened the place, although there wasn’t much to shed light on. And yet, within the darkness, there was beauty and a sense of comfort.

 The entire floor wasn’t a floor at all, more so a continuous runway of water; illuminated by bare-branched neon trees rising tall on either side of the paths leading towards each individual ego’s world. Those trees weaved out up high into the shadows, a thick smog clouding the sky and dissipating the closer it reached the ground. Pulses of blinding shades of color originated from the roots and surged upward throughout the shimmering bark every couple of seconds. It was as though the energy and life of the trees were visible to the naked eye. The branches were so thin and veiny; anyone would surely do a double take and think they resembled nerves in the brain, what with the charges of power coursing through each branch.

 With each step the green-haired man took, the water beneath his feet rippled and produced a faint glow of ruby red, an indication of which ego was out and about. The color was always different, depending on which ego was taking a stroll through the void. Surprisingly, although the ground was completely made of water and appeared frighteningly deep, the man didn’t sink. In fact, his feet weren’t even getting wet; the clear liquid just ran off of his boots in droplets, not soaking into the material or leaving behind any evidence of him having walked along water. He strolled along the path, a faint trail of crimson following behind him as he took a look around at his surroundings. The neon trees, the darkness, the foggy haze, the pathways leading off to his friends’ own sanctuaries. He hummed with thought, kicking at the ground, sending a splash of red forth.

 It was very rare for an ego to ever leave their little world and wander off into the open void. But every now and again, whether it was to go and visit one of their identical twins or to just get some fresh air and have some peace and quiet to think, they’d find their way out into the dark.

 So what was the heroic Jackieboy Man’s reason for venturing off into the mystical?

 One moment the hero had been rescuing an older lady’s poor cat from up high in a tree and the next he found himself getting hit with a gut-wrenching sense of dread, like something was very wrong. His first thought was that maybe someone was in need of a superhero somewhere in the city. Maybe someone had gotten hurt, maybe someone was being robbed, maybe someone was getting their car jacked. Anytime someone was in need of help or there was any danger, his superhero instincts would automatically kick in and give him a heads up. It had made sense for him to assume it was just his “spidey-sense” notifying him of any nearby danger. But that was just the thing: there wasn’t anyone in need of a hero during that time. He figured it was his brain tricking him and that he just desperately wanted to do more heroic things that day, so he brushed it off and went off on his merry way. It wasn’t until later on when he strolled past the entrance to his world when he was once again overcome with a wrongful feeling. Chills creeped up along his spine and everything seemed to had gone eerily quiet around him as he stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the wormhole with perplexity but more so concern.

 Was something wrong outside of his world? Had something happened to one of the other egos? He had no idea, and even though he knew very well that Jack was always the first one to be notified of strange goings-on in the void, his instinct was to take immediate action and make sure things were okay. He was there when Jack had shown up, throat slit and choking on his own blood, and he had been there when Chase attempted suicide, lying in a dazed state and bleeding out. He may have been there, but he hadn’t shown up in time. He hadn’t saved them. He hadn’t been the hero he was supposed to be. So if something was really wrong somewhere off in the void, then he was going to make sure he would make it in time before anyone would get hurt.

 He had left his world and stepped out into the open darkness, storming off and taking glances around to search for anything out of the ordinary. Everything seemed fine. The trees were all still glowing brightly in the multiple colors they always interchanged from. The ground was still wet and illuminated red with each step he took. He didn’t see anyone rushing off to someone else’s world out of panic. He didn’t see Jack show up to see for himself what was going on. There didn’t appear to be anything wrong with the void, nor were any of the other egos out in the open. And yet, that godawful cancer of dismay remained festering in his stomach, chewing at his insides piece by piece. Everything may have appeared normal, but he knew – he KNEW – something wasn’t right.

 The masked hero slowed his pacing as he finally came to the crossroads, lining out the four pathways to each ego’s part of the void. Marvin the Magnificent’s carnival was straight ahead, a faint purple ring in the distance indicating where the entrance was. Off to his left, in the far vastness of space, a bright blue portal was seen – an entrance to Dr. Schneeplestein’s world – and to his right, a loop of energetic orange, home to Chase Brody. He stopped in the center of the intersection, scanning the area around him for any sign of movement.

 “Hello?” He called out into the never-ending blackness. “Hello? Guys? Is everything alright?”

 He didn’t receive any sort of response, nor did he manage to make out anyone come out of their worlds to see him. Nothing but eerie, dead silence filled the air, and it didn’t make Jackieboy Man feel at ease in the slightest. He had called out for them – surely someone would’ve heard him. Someone would’ve come out to see what the commotion was about. And yet, there was nothing. He was alone in the dark, and that was something that never happened. Anytime he’d come out into the open for a stroll, he may have been alone, but he never truly felt alone. He knew the other egos were each there in the void with him, off doing their own individual things. He was never truly alone. But now – what with this harrowing leech wriggling through his insides…

 Slowly – and barely even there – thin, icy-cold digits creeped up along his shoulder blade.

 Jackie jolted and immediately spun around on his heel, sucking in a breath at only seeing eternal darkness in his wake. His eyes darted around the place wildly, searching for someone – anyone! He damn well knew he had felt someone’s hand on his shoulder, so how come he didn’t see anyone around?

 An unearthly chuckle of glee reverberated throughout the void, an even more mangled giggle overlapping it and coming from off in the deep black of space. Jackie jerked his head in the direction of where the giggle seemed to be originating from and cocked his head in slight confusion. It wasn’t coming from any one of the egos’ worlds – he was staring directly out at pitch blackness, completely off the paths made for the egos to wander on.

 It was coming from out in an open, uncharted area of the void where no light was seen.

 He swallowed dryly and parted his lips, still staring at the shadows. “Hello?” His voice echoed. “Who’s there?”

 The silence returned for a moment or two with a vengeance, admittedly sending chills up and racing along his spine. He cautiously took a step forward, never taking his attention away from where he had heard the giggle.

 “Hello?!”

 A shot of ice burned through his spine at feeling someone tap at his shoulder.

 Jackie gasped sharply and whirled around, wide-eyed and a tad bit shaken. No one was there. Another childish giggle sounded from the abyss before him, almost taunting him. He frowned, starting to get agitated. Was one of the others playing a trick on him? Because if so, it wasn’t funny.

 “Hey!” He shouted, immediately charging forward and leaping over the marked pathway; sprinting off in the direction of where the giggle had come from. He may not have seen anyone, but he had definitely felt someone touch him. He didn’t feel so alone anymore – someone else was there in the open void with him and he was going to find them and put an end to this joke of theirs’.

 Into the darkness he delved, the foggy breath of black ghosting over him and sucking him in the deeper he went. He couldn’t see a thing at this point now, not an ounce of light shining through. If possible, it seemed to be getting even darker the further he ran. Whoever was hiding from him let out a mocking laugh, evidently deriving sheer amusement from the hero’s puzzlement and desperate need to find the culprit. Releasing an uneven breath and slowing himself down to a halt, Jackieboy Man scanned around him for any sign of movement. All he saw was black – pure, empty, cloak-of-the-Grim-Reaper black. Even when he reached his hand outward, he couldn’t see it; it was one with the darkness. He searched all around him, turning around in circles until he was dizzy, but there wasn’t any sign of light whatsoever. He couldn’t see the neon trees branching upward towards the sky. He couldn’t see the illuminated watery pathways. He couldn’t see any of the portals to the egos’ homes. He saw absolutely nothing and it was only making the lingering feeling in his gut tighten to a sickeningly discomforting extent.

 Where were the paths and the trees? There was no way he had run off that far, and even if he had gone a pretty lengthy distance, he would still be able to see the lights from where he was. So why was everything gone? Why couldn’t he see anything?

 An awful, cruel cackle resounded through the place, jabbing pins and needles into the hero’s back and making his heart give a jolt of worriment. His eyes darted around nervously, swallowing thickly as he took a couple of wary steps forward.

 “Show yourself!” He demanded, his words getting dragged out of him and floating through the endless space for god-knows-who to hear.

 He only received a stifling chuckle in response. Following it, an abundance of whispers began to blossom in the air, each distinct and faintly reaching out to him. He couldn’t pinpoint what they were saying as there were too many voices speaking at once, but each one was using a haunting tone of voice that drove home what he feared: he was now in a dangerous situation and he needed to turn back NOW. Forget trying to find who was behind all of the taunting and teasing, he didn’t feel safe – his wellbeing, as well as the safety of the egos, was his top priority at that moment.

 Jackie began to backtrack his steps, trying to recall the way he came, but how do you know you’re going in the right direction when you can’t see a damn thing? A few of the whispers increased in loudness, wisps of them drifting right past his ears and feeding him the most chilling of things, they made him stop dead in his tracks. His eyes widened, a quivering breath getting wrenched out of him so violently he nearly doubled over.

 “…couldn’t save them.”

               “…dead…”

                               “Where were you?”

“…you let…”

                               “Why?”

               “…them suffer…”

“The poor souls…”

                                               “…your friends…”

               “What kind…”

“Please…”

                                                               “…left to rot.”

               “The children were…”

                                               “of hero are you?”

“He’s coming…”

                               “…for you.”

 A loud bubbly giggle belonging to a little girl rang out from behind the scared hero, causing him to jump and turn to very vaguely make out something deathly-white race by in the distance. With his poor heart feeling the effects of the festering cancer taking hold, Jackie strode forward. His breathing had picked up and alongside the whispers, all he could hear was the deafening beating of his heart pounding away at his ribcage. He clenched his fingers, balling them up into tight fists in an attempt to stave off his growing anxiety. He was a superhero, he didn’t fear anything! He could take anything on with ease and was never one to back down on a challenge! He would NOT succumb to this scheming individual’s tricks of getting a rise out of him!

 “Hello?” His voice echoed. “Guys, if this is some kind of prank, it isn’t funny!” He snapped, a sliver of his building dread interlacing his words.

 Another sweet girlish giggle met his ears, his eyes staring straight ahead to find a small pale figure standing still, staring right back at him with what looked an awful lot like a large grin – he couldn’t fully tell given how far away this individual was and with how dark it was. He squinted, trying to make out the figure more clearly. He licked his lips, hesitating to speak.

 “Who are you?”

 Now hold on, Jackie, think about this for a moment. A little girl was giggling a second ago and that looks a lot like a little girl. Who has a little girl? The doctor does, as does Chase. Maybe she’s one of them. Maybe she’s a part of –

 His thoughts got cut short when he noticed the figure begin to move, bee-lining straight for him. As the figure drew closer, Jackieboy Man’s vision started to clear up and the shapes and details of long dark hair and a cute floral dress could be made out. It was a little girl ��� probably four years old – one who gave off an eerily similar appearance as Dr. Schneeplestein’s youngest daughter.

 “Ilsa?” Jackie questioned. “What – What are you doing out here all alone?”

 The girl suddenly came to an abrupt stop, her head cocking to the left with a gross crack, sending prickles of unease throughout the green-haired hero’s veins. A bouncy laugh ruptured from her throat.

 “I’m not awone, silly! I’m here with you!” She chirped happily.

 Jackie, gulping down the fear strangling his insides, warily approached her, shrinking down a bit as he moved, feeling the need to be on her level. As he did, the whispers grew louder as though they were warning him to stay away.

 “Ilsa, you shouldn’t be out here.” He coughed, nearly choking on his own breath.

 He felt himself struggling to breathe the closer he got to the girl – it felt like a giant weight was slowly but surely being pressed down on his chest, like some force was resisting him and not wanting him to go any further.

 “Your,” He cleared his throat, “Y-Your mother is probably w-worried sick.” He coughed harshly and groaned out of discomfort.

 The air was growing revoltingly moist and putrid, so much so he nearly gagged. It was heavy and thick, he found himself gulping down breaths of air. He immediately regretted it. He wrinkled his nose in disgust as a waft of rot and decay unexpectedly attacked his senses. He couldn’t begin to describe the smell. Rancid milk, moldy fruit, rotten eggs – none of that could beat this scent. His eyes screwed shut as he clasped a hand over his mouth, hunching over while holding his stomach. Bile flooded his throat and he had to stop for a moment to try and settle down his insides from coercing him into vomiting.

 “Come pway with me.”

 Jackie hesitantly pried an eye open to take a glance at the girl, who seemed to have closed a good distance between the two. She was still staring at him with cold eyes, lifting an arm and outstretching her hand palm up, almost as though she was expecting the ego to take it. However, there appeared to be something shiny glinting in her hand. Trembling all over from just how nerve-racked he was, as well as from his will power to stave off the need to hurl, the hero swallowed down the sick in his throat and struggled to keep himself upright. He gradually inched toward the child, still finding it quite hard to make out her face or the object in her hand. His heart was pummelling deep inside his chest, the roaring rush of blood racing in his ears making him feel all the more nauseous. It took him a prolonged moment to hear over the noise and make out a faint buzzing coming from around the girl. His brows furrowed in question at not only the sound but finally noticing something dripping from the girl’s hand, and at that moment, an overwhelming odor of iron overcame him. His eyes widened slightly, mouth hanging agape, about to ask what the hell she was holding.

 He didn’t get to ask.

 His heart jolted painfully in his chest, nearly springing out of his chest cavity at hearing the evil laugh from earlier reverberate from behind him. The masked hero jumped and whirled around to see no one standing there. His breathing was very ragged now, coming and going in sharp gasps. He couldn’t even get himself to speak!

 “Come pway with us, Mr. Jackieboy.”

 His face contorted with puzzlement at hearing what she said. He began to turn around to face her.

 “Us? What do you – AH!” He yelped in alarm, staggering backward at seeing her now standing only a few feet away from him.

 The buzzing was more audible, the insistent humming of flies invading his bothered ears. His face scrunched up out of disturbance at seeing an accumulation of flies swarming the girl, quite a few landing on her face and extended arm. Jackie opened his mouth, lips trembling and fighting to part so he could ask her what was going on. But his question got lodged in his throat as soon as she stepped forward, finally revealing herself and looking up at him with her milky-white eyes.

 “Pway with us, Mr. Jackieboy.” She giggled, causing her deeply-cut decaying Glasgow smile to stretch impossibly wide; a fly squeezing out and taking flight. She held her hand out to him, causing the horrified hero to cast his gaze downward to find a bloodied scalpel in her palm.

 Jackieboy Man’s eyes bulged out of horror, a hand slapping over his gaping mouth. He shook his head, taking a hesitant step back.

 “Oh my God – Oh my GOD! Ilsa, what –” He lowered his hand, instantly surging forward and kneeling in front of the girl, grabbing her by the shoulders. His fingertips seemed to sink easily into her bare skin. It felt quite mushy and gross, her flesh and muscle horribly putrefied. The hero nearly choked on his own saliva. His eyes quickly raked over her small body before meeting her fogged-up stare. “what happened to you?! Where are your parents’?!”

 Ilsa dropped her hand at her side and chuckled lightly, shaking her head, her whole body moving with her. She lifted a finger to her lips.

 “Shhh. I can’t tell you. It’s part of his game.”

 Jackieboy Man’s brows screwed together. “His game? Who is he? Please, Ilsa. Come on, please tell me!” He tightened his grip on her, his finger slipping into her rotten meat with ease. “What is going on?!”

 The little girl sighed softly and glanced off into space, humming with thought for a drawn-out moment. She looked back at the frightened man before her and shrugged.

 “Alwight, I guess I can tell you a secret.” She blinked, tilting her head and leaning in a bit. “Can you keep a secret, Mr. Jackieboy?”

 He gave a nod in agreement. “Yes, yes I can. I’ll definitely keep your secret.” He was getting desperate now. He wanted to hear what had happened to her and NEEDED to know about it. Whoever or whatever had done this to her was going to face justice immediately.

 Ilsa raised her hand, curling in all of her fingers except her pinky. “You have to pinky pwomise.”

 He shifted his attention to her malformed finger, hooking his own with hers’, a chill running down his spine at feeling it squish against his. He eyed her, nodding again. “I promise.”

 Ilsa took back her hand and smiled brightly, knowing fully well she was about to tell him something she wasn’t supposed to.

 “You can’t find Mommy or Daddy because he’s alweady found them.” She said in a whisper, shaking her head. “And he’d be weally mad if you found them too.”

 Jackie jerked away from her, only becoming further confused and looking at her with dread settling deep into his nerves. “Who has found your parents, Ilsa? Did this guy do this to you?”

 There was a very long, increasingly uncomfortable interlude growing between the two, the masked man staring at Schneeplestein’s daughter in the dying need for answers. He watched as the smile on her face stretched, the major cuts in either side of her mouth only making her once angelic face all the more grotesque. She giggled with delight and slowly tilted her head backward, staring up at the endless darkness above them. Jackie glanced at what she was looking at, seeing nothing but black.

 “What? What’s so funny – why are you laughing?” He asked, shaking her shoulders gently before releasing his hold on her.

 Ilsa giggled once more, acting as though someone or something was communicating with her – something that only she could hear. And it was with that realization that Jackieboy Man cautiously began to rise to his feet and step back away from her.

 “He’s here now, Mr. Jackieboy.” The little girl beamed.

 From the darkness, a few feet above her, a set of piercing neon-green eyes sliced through the black, shooting fear directly into the now-quivering hero’s poor heart. A soft hiss slithered through the dead air, accompanied with a cringe-worthy crack of the entity’s neck; its eyes now boring into his on an angle. Jackie’s breathes were starting to come out panicked and raspy, instantly taking a few more steps back. Ilsa lowered her head and looked back out at her favorite hero, crudely cut-up smile on her face.

 “He wants to pway with you now.” She giggled with delight.

 A pair of black hands with elongated fingers curled over her shoulders possessively as another hiss came from the creature behind her. The demonic, sinister laugh Jackieboy Man had heard earlier erupted in the room all around them, and that was all it took. He instantly began running backward, wanting to be as far away from her as possible, his wide-eyes fixed on whatever was staring at him.

 Ilsa didn’t move from where she was; she remained standing there, still staring at him with a glazed-over expression and holding the bloody scalpel down at her side. It took Jackie what felt like ages until he tore his gaze away from her and that thing, laboured breaths of panic expelling from him as he rushed to get away from Schneeplestein’s corpse-of-a-daughter. He bolted through the eternal darkness, hearing the whispers whine and moan, black sinister tendrils lashing out and attempting to claw at his arms and legs. He had no idea where he was going, but he needed to get out of here, he NEEDED to get out of here, HE NEEDED TO –

 The green-haired hero ran smackdab into someone, a dull ache pulsing through his body at the collision. He felt a set of hands grasp his shoulders and gently stop him, holding him a good distance away. However, he was so shaken up from what he’d seen a minute ago that his entire body tensed up all over at being touched by some unknown thing. And not being able to see who or what it was, he immediately started swatting at the thing’s arms, wriggling in its grip.

 “Let go of me! Let go of me, goddamn it!” He shouted, making attempts at escaping the entity’s hold. “I’ll break your arm, I swear to God, I’ll do it! I’ll – !”

 “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Jackie, stop! Stop! It’s me!”

 With a blink of his eyes, the hero broke out of his terror-induced state and found himself staring into the eyes of his creator, Jack. The Irishman was lightly holding him by the shoulders, astonishment and concern gleaming in his cerulean eyes. He looked genuinely unsettled by the man in red. Jackie blinked rapidly out of stunned bewilderment, taking anxious glances over his shoulder to see if the decaying reanimated corpse of Ilsa was still there, standing in the distance, waiting for him to “play” with the entity speaking to her. She wasn’t anywhere in sight, nor were the set of green eyes. In fact, when the masked hero turned back to Jack, it took him some time to even recognize where he was.

 He was out by the crossroads again, standing on the watered pathway with the trees glowing bright on either side.

 His brows knitted together as his eyes took in his surroundings. What the hell had happened? He had just been out in the far off reaches of the void – places no one had ventured off into – and he had experienced what he could only call a living nightmare. Everything had felt so incredibly real. The mocking giggles, the haunting whispers, the stomach-churning stench of death, the feeling of being watched, the dead-alive mutilated cadaver of his friend’s daughter. He couldn’t get any of it out of his head. Jack stood there, not taking his hands off of the ego’s shoulders, still looking at him worriedly.

 “Jackie?” He asked softly, not wanting to upset him in anyway.

 The hero flinched at suddenly hearing his name, his attention immediately shifting back to the YouTuber, eyes blown wide with fright. Jack bent his head down a tad bit, searching the masked man’s eyes for understanding, hoping he recognized him.

 “What’s wrong?” He once again used a gentle tone of voice, nearly whispering.

 Jackie continued to stare at him with a hybrid of perplexity and fear for a drawn-out minute. He shook his head, taking glances over his shoulder again.

 “I…I-I don’t…I don’t understand.” He stuttered, having a tough time getting out the words he wanted to say. “I-I was…Sh-She was there. I saw her and the way she looked, the-the way she…” A whine of distress slipped out of him before groaning out of annoyance for not making clear sense. “I saw her! I know what I saw – it was all dark and she –”

 “She?” Jack interjected, tilting his head out of confusion. “What did you see, Jackie? Tell me.”

 Jackie stopped his babbling and shifted his attention back onto his creator, staring at him, taking note of just how puzzled and bothered the man appeared to be. He licked his lips, hesitating to ask.

 “You…You didn’t…You didn’t see her?” He took another glance over his shoulder, pointing out in the direction of where he had run off. “She was somewhere in there! Ilsa was in there, and she-she was undead, and there was some…some thing there with her, and –”

 “Whoa, wait, hold on. Ilsa? Henrik’s daughter?” Jack asked, looking at the ego puzzlement.

 Jackieboy Man nodded, still taking worrisome glances over his shoulder. “Yeah, I saw her out there, but Jack, she –”

 The Irishman shook his head. “But…But that’s not possible. No one from any one of your guys’ worlds can come wandering about out here in the open – you know that. Only you four came come out here.”

 “I know, but I swear, Jack, I saw her. I know I saw her.”

 Jack shook his head slightly. “Jackie, I…I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know what you think you saw, but I didn’t see anything.  I just got here a moment ago, and within a minute of my arrival, you suddenly ran into me and started hitting me, freaking out and threatening to break my arm.” He said bewilderedly.

 It was Jackie’s turn to be stricken with major confusion. “What?” He blinked, turning to look back out at the eternal darkness of the void. “But…But I was out there…I know I was.” He whispered to himself out of thought. He looked back at Jack to see the man staring at him with uncertainty along with concern.

 “Jackie, what’s going on? Are you feeling alright?” He moved forward to feel Jackieboy Man’s forehead. He hummed. “It doesn’t feel like you’re running a fever.”

 Jackie groaned and grabbed Jack’s hand, pulling it away from his head. He shook his head. “I…I don’t know. Maybe it’s my ‘spidey-sense’ getting the better of me. I just…” He sighed with exhaustion, “I just thought that maybe something was wrong out here, that’s all. I guess I wanted some more action – more adventure – and came out here in search of it, I don’t know.”

 The Irishman was still looking at him doubtfully. “You sure? Because you seemed extremely disturbed a moment ago. I know you’ve got your superhero instincts set to a high alert level and all, but I –”

 Jackie’s eyes shot up to meet his. “I’ll be fine, Jack.” He shrugged. “Maybe…Maybe I need to try and distract myself with other things, you know? Get some hobbies – do some things that aren’t hero related. Change things up a bit and not let the adrenaline and need to prove myself get in the way too much.”

 Jack searched his eyes, trying to determine if the ego was telling the truth and would, indeed, be alright. After a good long minute of going over everything that had happened and what Jackie had said, he saw through the façade and noticed how the hero was keeping something from him. He was chewing on his lip and continuously looking around as though he was expecting to get jumped by something at any given moment. Jack’s eyes narrowed.

 “There’s something else bothering you…What is it?” He took a look past Jackie’s shoulder, seeing nothing but pure blackness. “Is it involving what you saw?”

 Jackie didn’t reply, not instantly anyway. He was on edge, the things he had seen and heard repeatedly tormenting his mind to the point he wanted to curl into a ball. His fingers clenched into tight fists, his nails digging into his palms through the fabric of his suit. He bit his bottom lip deeply, almost to the point of cutting it, hesitant to give an answer.

 “Jack…nothing can get into the void…right?” His gaze slowly glided back to his creator, trepidation hanging off of each word that slide off of his tongue.

 Jack blinked, having not really expected the question. He shook his head. “Right, nothing but me can come and go from here.” He frowned. “Why do you ask?”

 Jackie stepped closer, a hybrid of worry and suspicion upon his face. “I…I think there’s something wrong with the void.”

 His creator’s brows rose up into his hairline. “What makes you think that? If there was something wrong with the void, Jackie, I would be the first to know about it, believe me.”

 The masked hero huffed. “I know, I know – and I believe you. But something doesn’t feel right to me. All afternoon, I’ve gotten nothing but bad vibes, and when I stepped out here to investigate, those vibes grew a lot worse.” He eyed the green-haired man as he motioned out to the egos’ portals. “I even called out to everyone, asking if everything was alright, but no one answered me back.” He scoffed. “Hell, no one even came out to see what the fuss was about.”

 This got Jack’s immediate attention, if his eyes widening a tad bit was anything to go off of. “No one responded? No one?”

 Jackie shook his head slowly, eyes firmly fixed onto the Irishman. Jack tore his gaze away, staring off at each portal with concern as Jackie continued.

 “I know you’re not sick, Jack, and if something was troubling you, you’d tell us immediately, so I know that if something is in fact wrong here, it can’t be because of you.” He exhaled unevenly, taking an anxious look off to his left, spotting the circling blue ring to Dr. Schneeplestein’s home. “Thing is…after everything I just went through...I’m beginning to feel like something else is in here, with us, and my first guess is that it wants to bring harm to the good doctor.” He turned his attention back to his creator.

 The Irishman seemed to tense up a bit only to relax almost instantly, turning his head to look at the ego with wonder. He raised a brow. “How would anything, aside from me, manage to get in here, Jackie? And if something were here, how is it you could sense it before me? And why would it target Henrik first out of all of us?”

 Something was beginning to feel off yet again – Jackieboy Man could sense it. His heart was constricting tightly in his chest and the cancerous leech of warning and dismay he’d felt earlier on had returned, biting at his insides insistently to the point it was nearly driving him mad. There was something about Jack that wasn’t sitting right with him. He couldn’t exactly put his finger on it, but the way the man was acting – the way he was responding, the way he was asking questions – none of it felt comforting. In a situation like this, the Jack he knew would surely try to put his mind at ease, he’d listen to what he had to say and fully recognize just how bothered the ego was. And he most certainly would be concerned about the other egos’ wellbeing after everything Jackie had said. The Irishman would NOT simply brush off his paranoia and retort back with questions about his suspicions like what he was doing now. His questions may have seemed logical and genuinely laced with worry, but with the way his gut was twisting into one tight knot after another, Jackieboy Man KNEW something wasn’t right with his creator. Either he was hiding something…or maybe…

 Jackie licked his lips, telling himself to remain calm and not bombard the Irishman with questions. “I don’t know how it’d get in here…but maybe I sensed it first,” Because you’re not really Jack, “because my ‘spider-sense’ kicked in and you were probably busy with something.” He took a brief glance back at the entrance to the good doctor’s home. “As for why it’d target Dr. Schneeplestein first…” His gaze slid back to his supposed creator, “he’s a doctor…he helps people, like me…He’s a necessity in this void…If he goes down, then the rest of us would end up going down with him, one by one. You take out the medic and the soldiers are left to fend for themselves.”

 He swore for one fleeting moment he had gotten a brief glimpse of a smirk tugging at the corner of Jack’s lips, one eye twitching almost like he was holding himself back from saying or doing something. It made the hairs on Jackie’s neck stand up on end, only giving him all the more reason to be suspicious of who he was currently talking to. He swallowed and turned, eyeing Schneeplestein’s portal.

 “I should go check on him, make sure everything is alright.” He moved to step forward, about to storm off to the doctor’s home.

 “Now hold on a minute.” An arm lunged out and grasped the hero’s wrist, stopping him from proceeding any further. Jackie gave him a questionable look. “I’ll go.”

 The hero’s heart gave a fierce jolt in his chest, not comfortable with the idea of Jack going in there to check on his friend. Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm…

 “Jack, I’m worried about him, okay? I have about as much right as you do to go in there and make sure the man’s fine.”

 “I understand that, but Jackie, it’s my job – my sole responsibility – to come and check up on you all every day and make sure each and every one of you is happy, and more importantly, safe and sound.”

 “Yes, but –”

 “Jackie, just because you’re a hero, doesn’t mean you have to be responsible for every single life here in the void. That’s my job, not yours’.” He stated calmly yet firmly. “I get how your instincts are telling you that you need to make sure everything’s well, especially since it involves a close friend, but you shouldn’t put that sort of stress on your shoulders.”

 He leaned in a patted the hero’s shoulder lightly, looking into his eyes and showing sincerity.

 “Please. Go back to your world and resume your heroic duties there. Trust me enough to go and visit Henrik myself. I’ll go and see how he’s doing – hell, I’ll check up on the other two as well if it’ll put you at ease. I’ll report back to you, I swear on my name.”

 That wasn’t sincerity in his eyes, that wasn’t even genuine kindness he was looking back at. Those blues eyes may have gave off the exact same look as Jack’s, but the heart and care was completely one-hundred percent gone and nonexistent. Whoever this was, they were straight up mocking the hero. Jackie stared at him for a dragged out minute, the cogs in his head turning, attempting to think of a plan. Finally, he gave a nod, tore his gaze away, and released a defeated sigh.

 “Alright…Alright, fine, you’re right. I need to stop letting my ego get in the way.” He eyed him. “And I do trust you. You care for all of us just as much as we care for each other.”

 Jack gave a reassuring smile and began to move away from Jackie. “Of course. I created you guys, after all. Why wouldn’t I care?”

 The masked man could barely breathe at this point what with how tight his chest felt. Those last few words…

 Jack motioned for him to go on back to his part of the void as he slowly walked backward toward Schneeplestein’s portal. “Go on. Go back home. I’ll check back in with you within the hour, I swear it.” He beamed warmly before spinning on his heel, nearing the blue ring. “I’m sure everything’s alright. Knowing him, he’s probably just busy.” He scoffed. “Maybe he’s working things out with his family, who knows?” He stepped into the ring and with that, he was gone.

 A vivid flash of Ilsa’s reanimated rotting corpse with her mangled face burst through the hero’s mind and he cringed violently, clenching his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the image. Inhaling and exhaling deeply to steady his poor nerves, the quivering Jackieboy Man reopened his eyes, his attention set on the open blackness of the void – the unmarked area for which he knew he had ventured out into moments ago.

 He knew what he had seen, he knew that something was here in the void and whatever it was was lurking within the depths of this world. The man he had been speaking with before – he may have looked and sounded like Jack but his overall demeanor was unnervingly questionable. He seemed to come off as knowing something Jackie didn’t and it was racking the poor hero’s body with apprehension. If he was Jack, someone or something must’ve done something to him. But if it wasn’t Jack…

 Answers. He needed answers. And he needed them now.

 Glancing out at the entrance to the doctor’s home for a split second before returning his attention to the darkness, the masked ego stood up straight, sucked in his one and only breath of bravery, and stormed off into the endless shadows of nightmares.

 Jack had left to check up on Schneeplestein and was most likely going to check in on Marvin and Chase afterwards as well. Jackieboy Man had about no more than an hour to search for proof of what he feared – one hour for him to be the hero everyone knew him to be.

 Only one hour to wander in the dark. And only one fear he honest-to-god hope wasn’t true.

Part 15 - Good Puppet

Part 17 - Do You Really Like Him That Much?

Author’s Note: No more breaks ;)

@gridhorizon @jse-fandom-protection-squad @septic-possessed @septic-fallen @butterlover328 @steffid101 @sketchy-scribs-n-doods @no-strings-puppet @haveaverynicetime @golden-eyed-guardians @fear-is-nameless @nightmarewolf133 @maybekatie @jack-a-yote @lil-gib @aeoix @lemonofweirdness @jaysflight @vity-dream @thatdorkcaci @jacksinsanity @silvadraconis @adreamoverlife @viostormcaller @wingsofthefierydragonheart

[division-m]

The Merge [3] - Sweet Pea

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Paring: Sweet Pea x Reader

Genre: angst | AU

Word Count: 2,649

Part [3] Warning: Violence, Swearing.

Part [3] Brief: ❝ In which the silver moon was high in the sky giving off the only light over Riverdale, apart from the lampposts whose rays died inches from the dirty tungsten bulbs, and Sweet Pea held a rage the power of a wildfire, you could practically see the flames roaring in his eyes, ready to ignite anything that he came in contact with. We learn [y/n] is an enigma - not like that of books where words are so plainly written out and flow from page to page, but of books torn, frayed, and indecipherable.❞

Masterlist

[y/n] was currently lounging around with youngest Cooper just like old times;

[y/n] admired Betty’s room.

Her room was like a princess wonderland. The walls were a baby pink that pulsed in the light, sprinkled with various pictures, mostly of friends and a few celebrities, [y/n] noticed she still kept the montage they made together of them since they were 6 up to the age of 14. Her comforter was pulled over her bed. It was messy as they both laied on it together, this resulted in lumps of varying sizes and shapes to form on the comforter.

A desk sat in one corner, littered with wadded up pieces of paper and pens. A few shelves were pushed against the walls and filled with books. Some books sat on the floor in front of the shelves. How does Betty manage to make a mess of books look like they are perfectly placed? [y/n] will always wonder. 

"Simple, I heard the devil call out my name" [y/n] said in response to Betty's question;

"Why did you leave Riverdale two years ago? you just got up and left, it broke my heart”.

Betty's eyes shifted to the side and they soon became glazed with a glassy layer of tears. As she blinked, they dripped from her eyelids and slid down her cheeks. She bit her lip tightly in attempt to hide any sound that wanted to escape from her mouth; my heart sank.

Seeing Betty like this really broke my heart, all I want to do is protect her, that’s one reason why I left in the first place.

[y/n] whipped the tears from Betty's eyes.

"Betty.." [y/n] cooed,

"I'm back now and I'm staying, trust me, its like everyone born in this town in bound forever to it".

Betty accepted that response, however [y/n] didn't want anymore questions around why she left, so she changed the subject.

"Betty.. Chic seems nice.. Considering his current situation, I mean I can understand why he is a bit crude, he just reconnected with the family that gave him up, but your dad, he seems to hate him?" I inquired, really curious to why this is.

Betty shook her head "[y/n] I have no idea, mum loves him already and if im honest its like shes trying to make up for all the years she lost with him, but I can't understand why dad doesn't want the same, its like-" Betty was cut off by her mum entering the room with a huge smile.

"[y/n] its getting late, are you going to stay over?" Alice asked politely.

I always loved Alice, she was like a second mother to me when I was little, if I wasn't at my house, I was at hers, if I wasn't eating at my house, she always made sure I was feed.

"That’s okay Alice, I should be getting back to my Grams now, I'm sure she’s getting worried, iv been out all day" I refused politely much to Betty's dismay.

[y/n] hopped off Betty's bed and gave her a warm embrace and told her she'll see her tomorrow at school and made her way home.

[y/n] walked. She walked as her hair fluttered in the air, her clothes clung to her body, arms tightly wrapped around her. [y/n] felt cold wind stroking her skin, wanting to rip her clothes off her, as if she were its enemy. 

She lifted her hands to the air to feel short bursts of rain.

As she walked she couldn't help but remember that cursed night, that night her family left for Greendale, [y/n] remembers this path, because she ran it that night, remembering passing Betty and Archie's house at an ungodly hour, never knowing when she'll see them again.

*Flashback*

Being chased was nothing like the movies. The stars look heroic, sexy and in command of the situation. Reality was far removed from that pretty version of running to save you skin.

I'd had no time to put on shoes or even grab my jacket, my parents pulled me from my bed whispering to me;

"It's no longer safe".

Panic took over my expression. I could only think one word.

Hunters.

They travel to innocent towns, looking to exterminate unwanted family's. At the time Riverdale was innocent. 

Greendale on the other hand was not. It was known for its mystical nature. Hunters wouldn’t dare enter, it was the only safe place for our kind.

The mundane fear the town over Sweet Water River, ever heard the saying;

'you should know better than to be caught in Greendale after midnight'

Usually you would run from the town, yet the crescents were sprinting towards it.

My souls crashing into the asphalt a few times before I transitioned to the balls of my feet. My face is flushed red and my expression is pure panic.

The crescents managed to make it into the forest, the moon was at its peak and spooky doesn't quite cover it and eerie is an understatement of this situation.

I've seen darkness before, the kind that makes this forest look like an old fashioned photograph, everything a shade of grey. This isn't like that. This is the darkness that robs you of your best sense and replaces it with a paralyzing fear.

I only know my eyes are still there because I can feel myself blink, still instinctively moisturizing the organs I have no current use for, since the darkness was blinding. The only way I am getting through these thick trees is the hand of my father pulling me along.

By my genes I am a predator, I have the front facing eyes and brain enough to hunt, but I feel like prey in this utter black.

The dawn is hours away and until that precious time I can only run for my life. 

Hunters, they are skilled, deadly skilled, yet still mundane, and don't have the senses of my parents. Hence why they hunt us. And why they will always hunt us.

*End of flashback*

The memory sent shivers down [y/n’s] spine, as well the now pouring ice cold rain.

However the rain was the least of her problems in this moment, as she heard the revving up of motorcycles, she found herself in stumbling into a civil war.

There was stillness on both sides. If hatred was visible the air would have been scarlet.

Screams broke out. The men rushed forward, the attack was fierce and efficient.

[y/n] wasn't foreign to battles, she fought many herself, hence why she decided to climb the tree to her left and perch herself up on nearest branch. Ready to watch this turf war commence.

'This should be interesting' she entertained this thought.

As the fight was happening, [y/n] noticed a certain tall dark and handsome serpent throwing punches left and right.

'He is a good and confident fighter, its like he is trained.. Riverdale needs more of that' she smirked as she studied his fighting skills. 

A certain red head crashed a punch into Sweet Pea's stomach, a sudden gush of pain jolted throughout Sweet Pea's body. His stomach ached, his arms lost tension and his legs began to weaken.

[Y/n] studied the look on his god like features, its like she could read him like a book.

"He will not get the better of me" his features read.

His tongue was soaked in the taste of blood. Bruised and winded, with a leg in agony, he grabbed the foot of the captain and pulled him to the ground. His head was pounding. He brought a fist to the captain’s face, snapping his nose into a state of grotesquerie.

It pained [y/n] to see Archie this way but she commended him, he grew up over this past two years. 

'Least he is out here throwing elbows, thats my boy' she praised him internally.

"Listen here Northsider!" Sweet Pea demanded loud enough for the whole street to hear, as he man handled Archie's letterman collar.

"Normally I would give you mercy, however you think you can come to my house, stick a gun in my face, and there wouldn't be any payback? You're stupid. You blame the Northside for all the problems in this town! Watch us be declared innocent then see me come out fighting. I've thrown one punch at you and I already see you quiver. How weak you are? This isn't cruelty Andrews, this is justice. You cannot control your actions and so I’ll control you. Continue to fight me and you know I'll win, or maybe you like gambling? It's a sin, you know"

I sat there with my jaw dropped in utter shock at Sweet Pea's monologue.

'What the fuck have you been up to Archie, i thought he knew better than to mess with the Serpents.. Jesus' I internally battled whether to stop this, Archie can clearly fight but facts are facts, Sweet Pea could easy take him out.

Just as I was about to come down I heard my name being called.

"Veronica?" I whisper yelled.

She looked as though she had been running due to her flushed cheeks.

"What the hell are you doing here" She asked me wide eyed.

"Being entertained" I deadpanned.

"[y/n] that’s Archie out there, with the serpents fighting, we need to stop this right now!" Veronica rushed towards the madness but I grabbed her by the arm to pull her back to me.

"Veronica no listen, they are hand to hand combat right now, running in there unarmed or just running straight into those muscle pigs will get you hurt" I warned, Betty informed me Archie and Veronica were an item, and I also know Archie.

He would be beside himself if she got hurt.

"Oh but sweet [y/n] I am armed" Veronica pulled out a gun out of her obsidian hooded cape.

[y/n] studied the gun, it was, small, discreet and deadly. The metal was cold in Veronica's hand, icy perhaps.

"Oh Lodge you really are a paradox but I am not going to ask why you have that right but If you want to stop this fight I have a plan".

"Shoot, what's the plan" Veronica was serious about stopping this fight.

"That’s exactly the plan, shoot" I deadpan once again.

"What! Are you crazy we can't just-" Veronica panics.

"No no not at them! up into the air! It's a small gun but trust me it will be loud enough to capture everyones attention, but once you do that, you have to run and get Archie out of here! if the cops aren't already on their way they will be now, then once you’re safe get rid of that fucking gun!" I carefully yet firmly explain to Veronica as i hold her shoulders, she is smart she understood every order and was on bored.

[y/n] gave Veronica a encouraging push.

Veronica ran between two cars, now her senses sharpened with adrenaline, Veronica held her breath, still straining to focus with every ounce of her concentration is focused on making this right. Cool air whispered through her body, she breathed in;

She fired.

Not too long before Veronica fired, [y/n] ran over to where the Serpents kept their motorbikes, knowing Sweet Pea will run this way out of instinct.

[y/n] was right, once that gun was fired he sprinted in her direction, she took this oppotunity to grab his arm and drag his weak state into her side.

"Listen to me, the cops are on their way, now unless you want to be hauled in by the police you should follow me, I'll help you" [y/n] said with utter seriousness.

In this short moment she wasn't admiring him from afar, she was inches away from his heated body. For a moment it shattered her to see his features this way, He's a bloody mess, nose bleeding and his right eye black and blue thanks to Archies left hook. His arms are wrapped round his guts like he's holding them in. he's beat so bad.

"We don't have all day!" [y/n] raised her voice in fear as she saw him contemplate.

"Why do you want to help me" he didn't say with a raised voice, it's like he's speaking while being choked, he must have taken a few hits at his throat while [y/n] was with Veronica.

"Remember when you saved me from falling on my ass? Yeah well lets call this me paying back my debt to you okay, now let me help you this time". [y/n] made her point, a broken chuckle escaped his busted lip.

The sirens were becoming louder the cops were coming, it was time to get going.

[y/n] snaked an arm around his waist, he slung an arm over her shoulder, instinctively, almost like it was a natural fit.

Their bodies were much different in height and stature, yet that didn't stop [y/n] from easing any type of pain she could.

My feet slip outwards on the wet autumn leaves as I round the corner, the cold night air shocking my throat and lungs as I inhale deeper, faster. It wasn't easy having Sweet Pea lean on me. Sweet Pea was 6'5 and very heavy in this weak state. 

With each footfall a jarring pain shoots ankle to knee through Sweet Pea's legs, this was evident as I kept hearing him hiss.

"C'mon we can't slow down, lean on me more if you need to" [y/n] aided him with words.

He let out broken "mhm's" and “ah’s” in response. His mouth continuing to fill with an Iron taste as his teeth bit into his lips, clearly trying to stop himself from moaning in pain every second.

Due to this he kept spitting blood onto the ground.

"I'm sure you're leaving a trail with the amount of blood you're spitting" [y/n] sassed him.

"Well princess I can't swallow It can i? if I was Dracula, I would" He still managed to sass back even though he's seconds from passing out.

I'm confident I'll get Sweet Pea back to Grams safely, I know this estate better than they do, those cops are just pretty boys in uniform, shipped in from the nicer end of town. They're weighed down with guns, batons and electrical stun devices, all of them useless unless they get a clear shot, which they won't.

I can hear them panting with the effort from three hundred yards behind, that's how freakin' noisy and slow they are. Conditioning from a tread-mill with a stop-watch will never beat real-life training on the streets.

[y/n] knows that better than anyone, and if anyone can understand her street training, It would be Sweet Pea.

He wouldn't have trusted her with his life unless he had a feeling she knew what she was doing.

And Sweet’s had an intuition that was never wrong.

A/N: ahhh! This was so fun to right, I didn't want to end it! But I have to keep you guys wanting more hehe. How are you guy's enjoying so far? I'm mixing the current Riverdale storyline and the storyline from past episodes, so I hope you can understand that. And oooo what do you think about little miss crescents past?  Feedback is always encouraged and welcomed :)

Be well x

Also should out to @sweetypeaimagines <3 go check out her work its so lovely! And she is so sweet! She deserves all the recognition she gets.

[avengers-nextgen]

The Rise Of The Lost IV

Bianca shivered in the cold confines of her cell. The surgery had been finished but no one had bothered to provide any pain relief. The girl was stuck laying on her stomach. Any form of movement brought tears to her eyes and tugged at the fragile stitches trailing her spine.

Bianca had no idea how long she’d been unconscious for again. If it was her luck maybe a day. The soldier knew, however, that her pain would not stop Dr. Strauss from her work. There was always room for improvement, first the arm for aesthetic effect, then the spine, what else?

The grating of a lock releasing was followed by footsteps and a white lab coated individual. “We have finishing touches, my dear.”

Bianca could only grunt out a response of pitiful protest.

“To your feet soldier.” With a set of gloved hands Bianca was slung to a standing position. Pain mirroring the sensation of burning alive made her vision dot with white spots.

Bianca’s knees buckled and the doctor was forced to support most of her weight. The shuffle through dim lit hallways was slow. Spotting the same metal table as before sent a flurry of panic through the soldier, but she could not flee. Physically-it was impossible.

Swallowing the grief already settling in, Bianca followed the normal procedure. With extremely slow and gentle movements the girl stripped from her uniform. The air, cold to the skin, burned tender bits of unhealed flesh.

— — —

Bucky didn’t get far when Siyanda caught up to him. “What do you want?”

“You need tnis.” The teenager held up a small earpiece. “Chances are she is being experimented on. If you interrupt the process it could cause permanent damage. I will have to walk you through the proper procedures to make sure you both make it out alive.”

Bucky contemplated the device before plucking it from Siyanda’s fingers. “Have someone ready to evacuate us.”

“Understood.” Siyanda nodded.

“Chances are you’re going to need a good pilot.” Both of the heroes turned in surprise to see Orion dressed in a flight suit.

“You are supposed to be in the infirmary.” Siyanda scowled.

“I’m tired of being pent up.” Orion shrugged. His slender fingers tugged anxiously at leather gloves. “Besides, my uncle rocket got experimented on without his consent. I’m not letting that happen to anyone else. You tell me where I need to be and I’ll be there.”

— — —

Bucky was putting a lot of faith in two teenagers. To be honest it worried him, but there was little else to be done. Equipped with hidden weaponry the soldier set on a determined path through the New York streets.

Each second that passed was a longer opportunity for Bianca to slip through his grasp. He couldn’t explain the protective instincts flaring in him. He had hardly talked to the girl and she’d made it quite clear he was nothing more than a monster to her.

Yet, here he was. About to take on an unknown enemy by himself. Bucky supposed that no matter what, all fathers had some attachment to their children whether they’d known them forever or not. Just looking at Bianca was like looking in a mirror and he’d be damned if Bianca was subjected to torture because of his own creation as a weapon.

— — —

The armory was non threatening on the outside but underneath was a rat’s maze of systems. Getting inside wasn’t an issue-as an assassin Bucky knew every trick in the book when it came to accessing off limits places.

Beneath the armory floor (which now was a ceiling) Bucky began to traverse the cold and dank tunnels. Faint lights flickered overhead like clumsy beacons. The atmosphere was charged with tension despite the silence.

A scream shattered the air. Bucky’s first instinct was to cover his ears but his heart leapt in his throat and he began to run. Drawing the pistols from his belt his boots slammed heavily on the concrete.

A camera blinked to life as he emerged into a small chamber. Without another look the device was shot. It exploded in sparks and its guts hung out in fritzing wires. As soon as the camera died an alarm began to wail overhead.

“Looks like a party is about to happen.” Bucky grumbled. “I didn’t know they celebrated father’s day.”

Setting his jaw the soldier tore on through the next passageway. Behind him were the sounds of heavy breathing and thick soled shoes slamming on the ground in a hungry pursuit. Metal arm skimming his belt, Bucky pulled out a metallic ring and pressed the center. Tossing it backwards over his head the tunnel flashed in violent blue as electricity incapacitated the enemy. “Gotta thank Natasha for giving me a bunch of those.”

Another scream more pitiful than the last urged him forward. As Bucky rounded a corner-getting closer to the pleading cries an arm jutted outwards close lining him in the neck. If it hadn’t been on sheer adrenaline Bucky would have landed flat, but he used the backwards momentum to turn his fall into a back flip.

Without hesitation Bucky fired at the body of his attacker sending them to the ground in a pool of their own blood.

— — —

“Almost done.” Crowed the false motherly time of Doctor Strauss. Bianca wanted to scream at her that she was lying. Only the stupid muzzle wouldn’t allow it. The metallic device only allowed screams to break through on occasion.

The sound of someone rushing down the opening up ahead brought the doctor’s attention. “Ah, I see you’ve arrived with the medical equipment.”

“Like hell I have.” The voice was gruff and the doctor froze in fear. Bianca located the intruder. Bucky stood with his gun raised and a look of murder on his face. Blood was splattered across his uniform and his eyes glared angrily at the doctor. “Siyanda!”

“Copy!” Siyanda replied.

“You’re going to do everything I say doctor if you want to live.” Bucky studied the lab coated individual carefully. He could tell right away she valued herself too much to consider dying. “Tell me exactly what you’ve done.”

— — —

The process of pausing the final touches to the spinal implants was more painful than continuing on with the procedure. The doctor’s nerves made her hands shake and the retraction of pins and needles was flawed.

Each muffled and pained cry, each twitch of hurt, the labored breathing going suddenly still-it all made Bucky incredibly anxious. Was the doctor even following Siyanda’s instructions? Had Bucky relayed something wrong?

It was only when the restraints holding Bianca in place released that Bucky let out a sigh of relief. The doctor lowered the platform back down to floor level as if it were a table and Bucky was confronted with the true damage done to the girl.

Metallic ridges resembling the vertebra of a spine glinted in the low light. The metal panels shifted and moved in an identical manner to that of her arm and his. Her spine would be able to support an ungodly amount of weight and would be able to handle an unimaginable beating.

“What are your plans with her-“

“Do you know who I am?” Bucky questioned. He barely titled his head to look at the doctor and it was as if she noticed his true identity for the first time.

“Oh-oh my-“ Bucky nodded in recognition as if she’d actually said his name.

“You have two options doctor. The first, you come back with me and face legal repercussions. The second, I kill you right here and now-no one would be the wiser.” Bucky held the gun up to emphasize his point. “No one even knows this place exists.”

The doctor didn’t hesitate to select option one. Bucky scrounged up Bianca’s discarded clothes and returned to her side. She didn’t move, didn’t look at him, her eyes only stared into an emptiness he could not see. She was in shock.

Perhaps it was a mercy.

Bucky was able to dress her without her feeling an ounce of pain. He acted unknowingly like a father whose kid had fallen asleep in the car and had to be carried to bed before changing the child’s pajamas.

With ease the soldier scooped up the quivering girl covered in a light sheen of sweat. The doctor followed close behind. An anxious air radiated off of her and Bucky felt like yelling at her to cut the crap and keep it together. Instead he spoke to Siyanda, “Tell the kid to pull the jet around.”

“Copy that.” Siyanda replied in her clipped and formal tone. The receiver crackled for a moment as the signal shifted.

“I’m outside.” The boy’s voice broke in. “Make it quick. They have some big guns out here.”

“It’s an armory.” Bucky snorted. “Of course they do. Don’t worry it’s all been deactivated.”

“Yeah, I sure hope so. Otherwise I’m about to repeat my crash landing and I don’t think I’m waking up in a cushy hospital bed next to a synthetic green and red robot dad.” All Bucky could think was that Peter Parker would get an absolute kick out of this kid.

— — —

As promised, the jet was hovering tentatively outside with onlookers gawking in awe. Thankfully? They were so impressed by the machine they didn’t notice Bucky or the doctor.

The asphalt grated against the soldier’s boots and the sound was somewhat comforting-until he heard the bang. One second the doctor was walking beside him, the next she was laying on the ground with her brains blown out.

“What the hell was that?” The kid cried.

“No idea but we have to high tail it out of here.” Bucky felt some guilt at leaving the doctor there but he couldn’t risk ending up like that as well. Once safely aboard Bucky settled Bianca on the medical cot. With some general knowledge of medical equipment Bucky began to monitor her vitals. They stabilized after a few IV drips.

Orion remained quiet the rest of the way back home and Bucky didn’t mind it one bit. He sat with his hands clasped watching the poor haggard girl shake. She was curled into an extremely tight, protective ball. The fear etched on her face along with the pain made his stomach clench.

One fateful tear trailed down her cheek. Bucky reached out and his metal index finger skimmed lightly across her cheek to wipe it away.

[medjaichieftain]

5 7 8 and 20

5: How has your musegrown since you first started playing them?

Athis core, he hasn’t. I have really tried to stay true to the original character, sincehe’s not mine. But as far as things I have expanded upon that were neveraddressed or mentioned in the movies, I would say the biggest area of growthfor Ardeth has been actually paying attention to his own life, heh. That soundskinda silly, but the movie gives you the impression that being a Medjai isArdeth’s whole life and he doesn’t really do anything else. He doesn’t ever haveany downtime, there’s nothing said about his family, there’s no talk about whathe wants for himself in his own life, it’s made to sound like he just works allthe time. Well that’s because he does, haha. So one thing that I’ve been ableto do with him is explore his own wants and needs a bit through threads withships or ones that include downtime. As dedicated as Ardeth is to his veryimportant job, there is more to life than that, and it is perfectly okay forhim to have a balance between work and personal life. That’s one of the thingsI want him to learn as I write him, so as I do, he transitions from a workaholicyoung person mindset to a more mature and well-rounded person. He still has alot to learn, though, as he still overworks himself and is kindof one-track-mindedwith regard to the Medjai.

6: What motivates yourmuse to get up in the morning?

Thethought that if he doesn’t get up and get his ass in gear fast and efficiently,someone somewhere might be seriously injured or even die. He cannot justifyslacking off or sleeping late when there are literally things ready to destroythe world, heh.

On ahappier note, in threads with ships and when he is with his family, Ardeth ismotivated to get up in the morning in order to spent time with his loveinterest or wife or children. Once he has a family of any kind, he becomes asdedicated to them as he is to his work and treasures the time he is able tospend with them.

7: Name a time whenyou really wanted to punch your muse.

Inthe canon, it was when he was on the bus and he just lost his shit and screamedat the mummy in his face haha. Like totally scared like a Chihuahua, arms up inthe air, doofy look on his face, screaming. And I’m just like Ardy, sweetheart,you face things that can kill you on an almost daily basis, what are you evendoing right now? (sigh)

Asfar as things I’ve written for him, I sorta want to punch him in his threadwith @runawayagent because Charlotte hasgracefully accepted the fact that she has had past lives and is someone ofgreat importance, but Ardeth is completely resisting accepting the same. And thefact that he told Rick the exact same things in The Mummy Returns, that he needed to embrace the missing piece ofhis soul and if he does he can do anything, just makes it worse. Eventually hewill accept it, but right now as he’s dismissing the signs of it as coincidence– just like Rick did! – I kinda wanna punch him, haha.

20: Name a headcanonabout your muse you haven’t said yet on this blog.

Since the events of The Mummy Returns, Ardeth has sufferedfrom sleep paralysis. Let me explain a littleabout what sleep paralysis is for those who aren’t familiar with it.

It’s asymptom of both anxiety and stress. Basically what sleep paralysis is, is whenthe brain is overactive during sleep and believes that it is awake when it isactually asleep. So the person is completely asleep, but the brain believesthat the person is awake, and therefore that they should be able to move,speak, see, and hear as normal. People with sleep paralysis often mistake the auditoryand visual hallucinations they experience for ghosts, demons, shadow people,aliens, astral projection, or near-death experiences. Really, though, all thatis happening is that, while asleep, your brain is interpreting what your sensesare responding to in a very primal way.

Common sleep paralysis experiencesinclude waking up in the middle of the night and not being able to move orspeak. Sometimes people feel like they are being choked or that something issitting on their chest. Usually a humanoid figure will be perceived as sittingon the person’s chest (this has happened to me) and/or chocking them, but alsoa common myth about cats (that they steal your breath at night) can beexplained by this. Other experiences include seeing a black shadow person inthe room, seeing a black dog or wolf, and hearing it growl (all of these havehappened to me). In actually, this can all be explained by human prey fears andprimal instincts as well as the biology of what occurs during sleep.

When weare asleep, our breathing becomes slower and shallower, so we don’t takedeep breaths. We also don’t move voluntarily, so we can’t choose to move orspeak. The brain, which thinks it’s awake, becomes alarmed by the fact thathey, we can’t move or cry for help right now. That panic response will thenresult in the brain trying to explain why this might be. Why can’t we move orspeak? Oh, because someone is trying to choke us or is sitting on top of us andweighing us down. Why are we so afraid right now? Oh, because there’s astranger in the room that wants to hurt us, or because there is an animal thatwants to eat us. The wolf is a very common predator fear for humans, and red isthe color of alarm. If we’re seeing a lot of red, it might be because there’s alot of blood, so red brings about some amount of alarm in our subconsciousminds. It’s why red is considered such a bold color in art or fashion, becausewe as humans key in on it very much.

So no, there aren’t any demons or shadowpeople or shadow wolves in the room with glowing red eyes, it’s just your braintrying to explain why it can’t do all the things it feels it should do becauseit’s actually asleep. Sometimes people will also claim that the shadow visitorswill moan and the wolves will growl. What that actually is, is you hearingyourself breathing or snoring in your sleep, and your brain interpreting it tobe a noise from something else.

Very religious peoplemight interpret these experiences as being visited and/or attacked by demons.Sci-fi nuts might think aliens visited them. And people who are verysuperstitious or who live in cultures where various types of predatory ghostsor nature spirits are considered to be real and common, they may think that’swhat is visiting them. Really, all it is that you are overtired, overworked,worried about something, really stressed out, really upset, etc., and yourbrain is unable to completely rest during sleep. (For example, two out of thethree times it happened to me was in the months leading up to my Ph.D. defense.I was nervous out of my mind, haha, overworked, and not sleeping well to begin with, so itmakes sense.)

Sleep paralysis is notactually dangerous. Although you may feel like you’re dying, you aren’t, andeven the visions and sensations you have of being crushed or choked are notreal, it’s just that you can’t breathe as deeply as your brain thinks youshould be able to because you’re sleeping. Where sleep paralysis can become aproblem is if the person is very afraid of what is happening to the point wherethey will actually avoid sleep to keep it from happening. Or if it’s soterrifying that they jolt awake and then don’t want to go back to sleep. Thatcan cause sleep deprivation if it occurs often enough. Most people that have itonly experience it once or a couple times maybe, but there are a few unluckypeople who have it very often, or some people may have it almost every nightuntil they can reduce the stress in their lives. And that is really the only “cure”for sleep paralysis is to relax and reduce stress.

Now as far as what Ardethis experiencing, he has felt the crushing/choking sensation and he sees ashadow person either in his tent or near where he’s sleeping or actually on himtrying to kill him. He does not experience sleep paralysis every night, but itis maybe 2-4 times a week in the weeks after the events of The Mummy Returns. He has not told anyone about it, but he fears itmay either be something evil trying to influence him when he is vulnerable or aprophetic experience trying to warn him of a rising threat in the future.

In the case of sleepingbeside a ship, what she would see is maybe that he would twitch a little, hisbreathing might become irregular, and he might manage to mumble a bit, butotherwise, he would just look like he’s sleeping or maybe having a vivid dream.Of course, if he were to suddenly wake up with a start - and he does this often– that might wake her up, heh.