#the link takes you to ao3 btw lol

[myymi]

Sonic is twelve years old the first time Tails falls asleep on him. Over the months that the two of them have been traveling together Tails has fallen asleep next to him many times. Some nights he had darker dreams and would end up quietly shuffling his sleeping bag close to the hedgehog's, claiming that it was in the exact same spot it had always been in when Sonic would raise a brow at the proximity after waking up. Some days the sun would be just warm enough that the kid couldn't help but curl up in the soft grass after they stop for a quick water break, his tails wrapping around his small body as he snuck in a quick power nap.

But in all those instances never once had Tails actually slept on him. He kept close, but never dared to rest on top of the hedgehog for reasons the hero didn't quite understand then. They had stopped at the hotel in town for the first time in a while, having enough money to check into a one bed room on the ground floor. Tails thought that it was luck that it happened to be the same night there was supposed to be a storm, but Sonic had planned for that. He wouldn't usually buy a room just to get out of a storm, but the kid was tired and Sonic would rather not make him wait out a storm in an open cave where the sound of the booming thunder was amplified rather than muffled by protective walls. As Tails hopped onto the bed after they'd entered the room, Sonic made a beeline for the thick, dark blue curtains and tugged them closed. He's found that the darker the curtains the better they are at keeping the flash of lightning from assaulting their eyes. It keeps the room darker in the mornings as well, which the little kit seems to appreciate, even if he never voices at that. Sonic was rummaging through the backpack when he heard a squeaky yawn, followed by a quiet grunt as Tails fell back against the bed. He kicked his shoes off, not caring about where they landed before wiggling his way underneath the covers. The hedgehog couldn't help but smile as he shook his head, pulling out two of their water bottles to set inside the fridge so they could have something cold to drink in the morning. Leaving the backpack on the desk, he walked up to the bed and poked at the lump underneath the covers. Tails hummed before he peeked his head out, sleepy blue eyes halfway covered by his eyelids as he stared up at the hedgehog, waiting for him to tell him why he was bothering him. Sonic smiled as he made a 'c' with his paw, placing it at the top of his stomach before dragging it down. 'Hungry?' Tails bit his lip as he considered it. He would normally wave it off, but some hotels had free food. It was usually just breakfast, but if Sonic was popular enough in the zone then they'd receive free dinner too. As he thought on it, he vaguely remembered the front desk person did offer them dinner. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, "Free?"

Sonic frowned at the question, but he did nod. He repeated the sign for hungry, reminding the cub he was waiting on an answer. Tails nodded as he climbed off the bed, not bothering to put on his shoes as he followed Sonic out of their room. He covered his mouth as he let out another yawn, his other paw reaching out to grab hold of the hedgehog's to make sure he wouldn't fall behind. The hero responded by gently squeezing the smaller paw as he led them to the eating area. As the voices from other hotel guests steadily grew louder, Tails pressed closer the Sonic's side. When they finally entered the dining room, his tails twirled around each other before clinging against his leg. Sonic gently patted his head when he noticed, quickly bringing him to the small buffet. Tails was too small to be able to see all the options, so the hedgehog handed him a menu instead. When the kit pointed at something on the menu he wanted, Sonic left to quickly pile on a generous portion of it. Usually he'd feel bad about it, but he'd rather the kid get enough to eat. Besides, these places always ha extra food when the night was over. Tails was too small to be able to see all the options without flying, so the hedgehog handed him a menu instead. When the kit pointed at something on the menu he wanted, Sonic left to quickly pile on a generous portion of it. Usually he'd feel bad about it, but he'd rather the kid had enough to eat. Besides, these places always had extra food when the night was over. He gave himself a smaller portion of everything the fox picked out, knowing the kid would end up pushing his leftovers to Sonic. Tails didn't always pick out his own food. He used to refuse doing so altogether, saying that he was fine with whatever Sonic wanted to eat. The first time he'd gotten the kid to pick out their lunch Tails had beamed when he realized the older seemed to enjoy his choice of food. Since then, he always got the same thing as Tails whenever he got the cub to pick out something to eat. It seemed to help him voice what he wanted instead of just accepting anything he was given.

Sonic was going to eat at one of the tables, but the little fox was yawning a little too much for him to be able to stay awake long enough to walk back to their room after dinner so he decided on walking back now. But, with the tween's paws being full of their food, Tails was forced to hold onto one of his tails as they made the journey back to their room. Tails climbed back onto the bed so he could hold the food while Sonic turned on the T.V, flicking it onto a random cartoon channel before pushing away the covers so he could sit next to the kit on the bed. Tails frowned as he handed the older his plate of food. "I thought you didn't like cartoons?" He asked once he realized what channel the older chose, looking at the hedgehog expectantly as he took a bite of the chili on his plate. It wasn't nearly as good as Sonic's, but it wasn't bad. Sonic shrugged as he stabbed his fork into the small salad, leaving it there for a moment so he could sign his response before picking it back up to eat his bite. 'You like them.' "I know that." Tails said through his mouthful before quickly swallowing, "But you don't like them. We can watch something else, I don't mind." The hedgehog shrugged again and took another bite of his food without making any move to respond, causing the cub to pout. Too tired to really fight on the subject, Tails leaned against the headboard of the bed as he quietly ate the rest of his food. Sonic didn't really care about cartoons. They weren't his first pick by any means, but he didn't mind turning it on for little kids to watch. Which Tails is a little kid, despite how smart he is or how much he'd argue that he's "really not that much younger than Sonic" when he's still only four years old. The two of them ate comfortably with the T.V on a low volume but still loud enough to hopefully cover the sounds outside that the walls couldn't muffle. Sonic shifted his position a few times to try and block the window so Tails wouldn't see what little light pressed past the curtains. Tails squeaked out another yawn once he finished eating, handing his half-eaten plate over to the hedgehog. Sonic quickly scraped the rest of the food onto his, setting the now empty plate on the beside table so it'd be easy to grab when he leaves to put the plates back up after he finishes his own food. Apparently too tired to feel embarrassed right now, Tails wiggled under the covers until he was fully laying down before leaning over to rest his head against Sonic's hip instead of the pillow directly behind him. The hedgehog froze at the contact as his eyes snapped down to the kit, only to find that he was already out cold. Soft snores escaped him as his breathing evened out faster than Sonic has ever seen, the fox easily finding comfort in the physical contact. Too stiff to be anywhere near comfortable, Sonic gently laid his paw across Tails's torso, giving him a couple soft, awkward pats as he just watched the younger breathe for a few seconds. It took him a minute to settle against the headboard again, but it's faster than it usually takes him to get comfortable with someone touching him unprompted so he sees it as a win. And he only relaxed further after Tails started to quietly purr. They stay like that until Sonic finished his plate, stacking it on top of the other dirty dish before he laid down to join Tails in the dream world. He lifted the kit's head just enough to move around, gently setting it down on his chest when he's in a comfortable spot. He brought his paw up to scratch the cub's ear a few times before letting it settle around his back again, easily falling asleep at the soft sounds of comfort coming from Tails. The dishes will just have to wait until morning. ----

[lightseoul]

CHAPTER 7 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 5.3k (jesus. this is the longest one yet)

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), lots of cussing, some minor timeskip manga spoilers, slightly nsfw themes, mentions of food, bakugou katsuki is bad at feelings, feelings—lots of 'em, the true calm before the storm, shit's about to go down!!!

a/n. we're so back, y'all!!! this one took me a while, i have to admit. it even got to a point where i thought i'd just leave this series unfinished for a plethora of reasons. but after clawing through a few sessions of barely being able to write anything, i was struck with the vision of how to get the chapter going in the middle of a massage lol. the rest was history. that said, i'd love to know your thoughts so far, so please don't be a stranger <3 (comments keep me going. btw. not to sound like a slut)

links. masterlist, ao3

You ended up not getting home until past 8 PM that Monday.

After you successfully used your quirk on Kirishima and Hiroto, resulting in the transfer of that fated scrap of paper containing the attack’s details, Kaminari insisted that you hang out after lunch and make the most of your day off until everybody relented. Bakugou was uncharacteristically quiet—you noted—even as the electric hero whisked the six of you away to the nearest mall where you shopped and visited a KTV spot afterward.

You didn’t expect to spend hours watching the four goof off and sing their hearts out while Bakugou sat silently to the side, although time passed by faster than you thought it would anyway. The group eventually parted ways at around 6 PM, after which you and Bakugou decided to eat at a ramen restaurant where you sat yourselves by the counter so you wouldn’t have to force conversation.

Hiroto shadowed the two of you the entire time, up to the instant when you and Bakugou entered a darkened spot in the outdoor parking lot to wait for the twin to message Kouki and have the old man teleport you back to headquarters. You didn’t have to wait for too long—you were gone and right back at the front of your bedroom in a matter of minutes, bug-less and cameras covered another minute after.

And only as you stripped off your going-out clothes for the day in the privacy of the bathroom did it sink in—how you actually did it.

You actually transmitted the message.

And as much as it fucking sucks, the most you can do now—at least until D-Day—is to put your faith in Kirishima and the rest of the pro-heroes who will be tasked with stopping this act of genocide altogether.

Easy enough…

Right.

The next day—Tuesday—starts typically as the others have transpired in the last two weeks-ish of living in the headquarters: violently woken by a twin’s knocking, then scrambling to seem like you were sharing the bed, to promptly getting ready for and having breakfast at the mess hall.

Just like how every day’s been in this supremacist hellhole, everything goes by like clockwork.

That is, up until Omiru walks up to your usual table just as you are about to take your last chug of water after downing your substantial plate of pancakes.

You peer at her from over the rim of your glass, cautious—and rightfully so. Beside you, Bakugou puts down his utensils and straightens up in his seat. Neither of you says anything, opting to let her speak first instead.

And when she finally does, she’s looking straight at no one but Bakugou.

“Follow me.”

At that, you glance at the pro-hero in question, who only shoots the twin a stern look before nodding curtly. You watch him as he gathers his tray and stands up, and you’re about to move and follow suit when Omiru’s voice stops you in your tracks.

“Not you,” she spews pointedly. “Just him.”

From where you are half-sitting with your ass frozen mid-air, you blink at the woman. “What?”

“Masaki-san needs him at the private training facility, pronto,” comes her terse reply, sounding more impatient by the minute. “He’s not to be disturbed.”

Your face contorts in displeasure before you can think better against it. Then, schooling it into a more neutral expression, you shake your head as you finally straighten up, willing your voice to stay firm. “Whatever you have to say to him you can say to me, too.”

Omiru opens her mouth to most likely snap at you for wasting more and more of her time, but she doesn’t get to do that because you’re both silenced by a sudden hand on your forearm. You whip to look at Bakugou, and his lips are pressed into a thin line as he nods again—only this time, at you—as if that was all the explanation you needed.

“It’s okay,” he offers, his voice low. “I’ll come and look for you by the time we’re done.”

You can only stare at him, tamping down the incredulity that’s creeping up your throat.

Since when did he decide to be Mr. Calm and Collected?

As much as you want to, you don’t question him, though, knowing it will cause more harm than good. You’re so close to the day of the operation, and the last thing you need is to blow your cover.

So instead, and with a wary heart, you nod back at him, before leaning in and pressing a quick peck on his cheek.

“Take care, babe,” you say timidly, grateful he took the kiss just now like a champ—with little to no faltering.

“I will,” comes his weirdly soft response, before he steps out of his seat and trails behind Omiru, leaving you and your tray of empty plates.

You move to tuck the stretchy fabric into the rest of the contorted arrangement you’ve got going on—folding your panties was the most you could think of doing to keep your mind off the anxiety that’s been gnawing at you the entire day, after all—and plop it on your pile of fresh undergarments.

Or at least, you were going to do that, when the door to your bedroom suddenly bursts open, and you startle so badly, that the neat stack of underwear crumbles like a poorly built Jenga tower on top of the bed.

You scramble to hide them behind you just as Bakugou emerges from the hallway, and the very first thing that registers when your eyes land on him is that he’s fucking drenched.

In sweat. Drenched in sweat.

And, to your chagrin, he must’ve noticed you gaping at him because his gaze drifts over to meet yours after he closes the door behind him. “What?”

You blink at him, suddenly yanked out of your dumb stupor. “Nothing—it’s just…” you trail off, now trying to ignore the weirdly scandalous way his wet shirt is clinging to his muscled torso. You knew his hero costume accentuated and therefore showcased a built body from the chance encounters about him in the news, but seeing it through an almost translucent cover-up…

“Just what?”

You gulp, bringing your eyes back up to meet his unnervingly scrutinizing ones.

…Why is he looking at you like that?

Instead of dwelling on the thought, though, you manage to voice out the question you and the imaginary mouse in your pocket are wondering. “W-why are you so… sweaty?”

Now, if he’s offended by how that came out just a breadth’s hair away from sounding disgusted, he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he crosses the short distance between him and your small wardrobe and flings it open.

“I thought you were smarter than that, princess,” comes his casual reply, and you find yourself stiffening—not just at the nickname, but at what came before that.

You frown, although he doesn’t see it with his back turned against you. “I don’t get how you’re being so nonchalant today,” you say so honestly you shock yourself, voice lowered out of instinct despite having made sure that there are no extra bugs in the room.

Whatever Bakugou expected for a response—it must’ve been anything but that—because he stops rifling through his clothes and whips to look at you, a mild expression of surprise written across his features.

But before he can say anything to that, you beat him to it. “What did they make you do, Bakugou?”

He opens his mouth to say something, but pauses before he can get a word out. You watch the man as he stands there for a second, the metaphorical gears in his head spinning loud enough that you can practically hear them. You can tell they’re still turning a beat later, even as he closes the wardrobe behind him and turns to fully face you.

“I—” he starts, hesitant, “I thought you would’ve figured.”

“Figured what?” You’re getting impatient now.

“That I was called on to start making the bombs.”

Oh.

The realization dawning on you must be evident in your profile because Bakugou nods as if in confirmation. “I was anticipating they’d call me in sooner or later, so I wasn’t surprised when that twin approached us during breakfast.”

Fuck, you feel stupid.

How you’re feeling is none of Bakugou’s business, though, so you will yourself to dip your head to show you understand. “I totally forgot about the bombs,” you admit.

“Yeah, well, I don’t blame you,” he turns again and resumes busying himself with the cabinets. “They did their research and found out my bombs are more explosive the fresher they are. Explains why they waited ‘til the last minute.”

Huh.

“I guess that also explains why you look like an over-glazed doughnut.”

That makes him bark out a laugh. “More like a wet dog, but I’ll take that.”

You’re about to say that no, he definitely looks more like an over-glazed doughnut, but then you remember you’d rather fail this mission and cause massive destruction before you go off admitting he looks…maybe just a tiny bit delectable in this state.

You’re back to avoiding the sight of…him—altogether—in silence, when Bakugou glances at you over his shoulder. “Can you pass me my towel?”

“Sure,” you say as you fetch it from where it’s hung across the couch’s backrest before padding back toward him.

You hand it over. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

Now it’s your turn to stand somewhat awkwardly behind him as he finishes up gathering his change of clothes for the night. There’s one more thing you need to ask him.

Anytime now.

You take a sharp inhale just as he whirls to face you, expectant. You muster a small smile, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I was just gonna ask—they didn’t hurt you, did they? You were treated okay?”

Your stomach instantly drops when the expectant look just now morphs into a smirk. “I think you underestimate my ability to protect myself, princess.”

You feel yourself flame. “I—” you stammer, wildly caught off guard, and his grin widens. You then frown, resigned. “Come on, man, not cool.”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, sounding far from apologetic, “‘m sorry. Though, you should’ve seen the look on your face.”

“That’s it,” you raise your hands in mock surrender, spinning to gather your folded underwear that are still scattered on the bed. “They can go ahead and snip off your balls, for all I care.”

“Damn, that escalated quickly.”

You only toss him a sarcastic smile as you take up the spot beside him, opening your tiny drawer and dumping the articles into them before he can get a closer glimpse. The last thing you need is for him to see your threadbare, granny panties.

Bakugou chuckles again, the indication of his mirth the last sound that echoes in the room before a quiet envelops the two of you, the atmosphere taking a sudden shift.

“How about you, huh?” he suddenly asks, almost making you jump. You raise an eyebrow at him, still not quite past his earlier teasing.

He doesn’t react with hostility, though, only shrugging in response. “Are you okay?”

“Me?” you parrot lamely, shocked at his query.

To your disbelief, he doesn’t roll his eyes or shoot you a derisive quip, only nodding—an unmistakable, serious glint in his crimson gaze. You gulp despite yourself.

“It was pretty much the same for me, I guess. Except there weren’t as many people around…”

You falter, debating whether or not you should tell him the more incriminating truth. But then you make the mistake of meeting his penetrating stare and then suddenly, it all comes tumbling out.

“I—I was worried about you.”

That takes Bakugou by surprise, his brows shooting up in a profound display of bewilderment. An abrupt pang of embarrassment shoots through you at the sight, and you scurry to save face.

“Looks like there was no need, though, considering how you’re joking around and being an ass and all,” you jest, taking the hoodie you were meaning to get from the rack and closing your side of the wardrobe.

“I—”

“Good night, Bakugou,” you cut him off, plopping yourself on the couch with your back turned against him, effectively shooting the conversation down.

Needless to say, you struggle to sleep that night.

As if she knew you fell into a fitted slumber and needed more goddamn sleep, Omiru was already up and banging at your door five minutes earlier than usual the morning after, ripping you out of your sluggish haze. It didn’t help that it was your turn on the couch that night—which, even after all this time of dozing there, still proved to be quite unforgiving to your neck and lower back, especially. Once you were all ready and had opened the door, though, your usual routine was done but not before a rundown on what was to happen that day. You were to pack your things and prepare to leave the headquarters by the time Bakugou was done producing the last batch of bombs.

She conveniently didn’t say when that was, opting to whisk Bakugou away instead.

So without any idea as to when you were making the move, you tried your best to keep busy—a task that proved to be herculean, seeing as how the number of people present had dwindled significantly, you could count them with just your fingers and toes.

It didn’t take you long to figure out why that was. The people who’ve gone—they were all teleported to their posts to prepare for tomorrow’s attack.

By batches.

Because, as it turns out, you were right. Kouki’s quirk does have a limitation.

He can only muster enough power to teleport a certain number of people—across a certain distance—a handful of times a day. It all depends on three factors: number, distance, and frequency.

And because Bakugou’s got important business as the organization’s very own human-bomb factory, you two will be transported later in the day as part of the last batch.

You mull over this newfound information—again and again, mainly because there really isn’t much else to do other than pack—until, unbeknownst to you, the clock on the wall strikes five. You jump from where you are seated on the sofa when, as if on cue, the door bursts open, revealing a yet again sweaty Bakugou, with Kouki and the twins tailing closely behind him.

“Just let me take a quick shower and finalize my stuff,” Bakugou offhandedly says, eyeing you as he picks up his towel, not wasting even a modicum of a second. “Then we’ll get going to my place.”

His what?

“Sorry?” you manage to ask, acutely aware of the panic that’s rising in your throat—fast.

Bakugou peers at you for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face. But then he’s chuckling—oh so naturally, like your reaction was adorable to him rather than potentially detrimental to your covers—as he walks toward you.

And then he’s leaning down and into your space, a warning look in his eyes. You barely catch a glimpse of it before he leans even further and kisses your cheek, smiling as he pulls away.

“My place, baby,” he coos, “Where we’ll stay the night.”

“Here we are,” Kouki announces just as the floor beneath you rematerializes, light and markedly spotless as compared to the nicked, hardwood floors you’ve grown to be familiar with over the past weeks. You look up, a faint trace of dizziness clouding your mind still, although it’s quickly replaced by awe as you take in the rest of the room.

Dropping your luggage to the side, you make quick work of what can only be Bakugou Katsuki’s living space.

Well, it’s just what you’d expect from the guy. Purposively designed, no-nonsense, and exceptionally pristine.

And closer to the Prime Minister’s Office. At least, as compared to your more modest home, which is why you’re even here in the first place.

Regardless, you were about to compliment the man for being an outlier of the male population when you suddenly remember that you’re supposed to be well-acquainted with his high-rise apartment unit. You know, as his girlfriend?

You slam your mouth shut, just as Kouki steps forward and turns to face the rest of you like a commander in the military. You fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“Big day tomorrow,” he declares, his trademark haughtiness heavy in his tone. “The four of you, review your assignments and be ready by 6 AM sharp. I’ll pick you up here.”

Then, a pointed look toward you and Bakugou. “Don’t be late.”

And just as quickly as you teleported into the pro-hero’s unit, Kouki vanishes, leaving the two of you with the twins.

Silence.

“That man’s got a bug up his old ass, that’s for sure.”

You whip to face Bakugou, surprised and equal parts amused. He only tosses you a smug look, as if daring you to question him.

You don’t, similar to how you don’t dare spare either of the twins a worried glance.

“We should order,” Bakugou says not a minute later, effortlessly picking up your belongings and transferring them to an empty spot beside a door. “I cleared out the ref two weeks ago. ‘m out of groceries.”

“Sure,” you reply, seating yourself comfortably on his sofa like you’ve been here countless times. You sense all three pairs of eyes studying you as you burrow into the plush cushion, willing every neuron in your system to relax. “How ‘bout from that restaurant we went to with the squad? I’m craving some curry.”

“Aha,” Bakugou smirks as he walks over and throws his butt down way too close beside you. “So you did want to switch.”

You bristle, if not at being unceremoniously caught then at how he just slung an arm over the backrest behind you. “T–That’s beside the point,” you argue, before swiftly turning to Hiroto. “Can we have our phones for just a sec, please? We need to order.”

If Bakugou noticed your smooth segue slash redirection just now, he doesn’t point it out, instead letting you take your smartphones from the absurdly tall man without much of a hassle. You quickly place your orders—even asking the twins what they want despite how badly they’ve treated you since your first meeting at that dingy club.

You’re not a monster, after all.

They seem to think you are, though, because they blatantly ignore your kind offer.

Well, then. If they have a hard time falling asleep because of hunger later then that’s not your problem anymore.

Not even thirty minutes after ordering, your food arrives, and the twins end up allowing Bakugou to go down the lobby by himself to fetch the delivery. You almost groan when he walks through the door with the goods in tow, the strong waft of curry sauce filling the air and making your stomach churn in budding anticipation.

“You’re not helping your case, babe,” Bakugou teases as you excitedly pore over the takeout bag, reaching into it to grab your share and then his.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you over this glorious smell,” you quip, which grants you a chuckle.

No more words are exchanged as you get started on your feast, too wiped out from today’s activities—Bakugou and his bomb production and your…well, trying not to go crazy—to even start, let alone maintain, a steady conversation. The room is silent aside from some slurping and quiet chewing here and there, with neither Omiru nor Hiroto saying anything to break the monotony.

And you think it must be that—the quiet—that spurs the abrupt observation mid-spoonfeed of how domestic everything is. You wouldn’t have ever thought you’d be eating a meal with Bakugou in his dining room—high schooler you definitely wouldn’t have—but as it turns out life’s got a funny way of pulling the rug from underneath you and messing with your head.

Just like these muddy ass feelings.

No, you think to yourself. Now’s not the time.

Not when you’re barely able to stomach your food, anyway. You were—are hungry—if the incessant rumbling of your abdomen since late afternoon was any indication—but you forgot you’ve been sickeningly nervous the entire day. Still, you force each bite down. The last thing you need is to be frail tomorrow.

“Here,” Bakugou reaches out from across the table a few moments later, “Give me your plate.”

“No,” you say as you lift the empty ceramic further from him, “Let me help.”

Your plea falls on deaf ears, however, because Bakugou leans closer and snatches the dish from your hands before you can even scream a strangled wait! You must be looking stupefied, because Bakugou only smirks at you as he quickly gathers the dishes, beaming with pride as if having a ridiculously wide wing span is something he earned rather than was unjustly given.

“Unfair…” you mumble as you resort to gathering the trash instead, collecting it in the bag that the delivery came in.

“Just leave it there,” he calls out from the kitchen a few feet away, scraping the scraps off the platters. And when he’s realized you’re not listening: “Babe.”

You lift your hands like you’re a contestant in Master Chef and Gordon Ramsey just called time’s up, a petulant frown on your face. “Jeez, I’m just trying to help.”

“And I’m trying to be a gentleman,” comes his snarky retort. You bite back the urge to snort. “Go unpack in the bedroom while I finish up here,” he orders, “I’ll be quick.”

Please don’t be is your visceral reaction, although you manage not to say it out loud. You need at least ten minutes—give or take—of being alone in his bedroom to come to terms with this precarious situation you’ve been dealt with. You manage to reply with a small ‘okay’ before heading over to grab your things, very much cognizant of the ticking clock.

But then it dawns on you that you don’t have any idea where his fucking bedroom is.

You pause mid-bend, pretending you’re studying the hard case of your luggage for non-existent scratches. You know that there are three doors, not counting the one Bakugou went in and out from to get your food. One has to lead to the common restroom, another to his home office slash gym that you’ve heard him talk about once during your lunches at the headquarters, which leaves the last one as his bedroom’s entryway.

Hurry up, your brain tells you. You’re getting suspicious.

Wait.

You let your mind flash back to a while ago, a few moments after you arrived here. ‘We should order,’ was what Bakugou said, as he conveniently hefted your bags to this spot here, which must be right beside…

The bedroom door.

Bingo.

You repress a sigh of relief when you’re greeted with the sight of a massive mattress upon turning the knob, wasting no time as you squeeze into the threshold with your belongings. You were about to shut the door behind you when a female voice calls out your name out of nowhere, and you startle. Turning to face who must’ve been Omiru, you’re quick to put on a nonchalant facade, as if she didn’t just scare you in your metaphorical boots.

“Your tracker,” she says flatly when you don’t move an inch.

“O–oh. Right.”

You stand in place as she goes over the motions while Hiroto does the same with Bakugou. You’ve gone through this so many times that you don’t even wince when she rips out the device, instead only giving her a quick thanks and a rare good night when she steps away.

She doesn’t say it back.

You take that as your cue to go back into Bakugou’s sleeping quarters, and only when the weighty slab of wood is closed behind you do you let out a heavy exhale, suddenly feeling the fatigue that’s been looming over you since last night in its entirety.

But then that’s immediately booted out with a shot of adrenaline when you see it.

The couch.

Or the lack thereof.

You're still standing there—mortified—by the time Bakugou enters the room with his stuff, shutting the door and consequently granting you your first semblance of privacy for the day.

“What,” he says more than asks a minute later, when you still haven’t said anything.

“There’s no couch,” you croak-whisper.

You were not about to sleep on the floor.

You were not about to share a bed with Bakugou, either.

Not after you’ve spent the last two weeks slaving over your high-maintenance sleeping arrangement.

“Relax, dumbass,” comes his fluid retort. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think the man is finding this shit funny. “I have a futon.”

Turns out, he wasn’t lying—what feels like a huge burden lifted off your shoulders when he opens a cabinet to his right and pulls out a moderately thick cushion. You waste no time in assisting him, taking two corners while the pro-hero handles the other two, coordinating as you place the futon perpendicularly, right at the foot of the bed.

“Thanks,” you tell him when you’re done, dusting off your hands. “Do you have a blanket I can—”

“Too late,” he cuts you off, lightly diving into the mattress.

You gawk at the man. “Wha—”

“It’s your turn on the bed tonight,” he says as a matter of factly, not even bothering to look you in the eye. You splutter, but ultimately relent. As much as you want to argue, you do need some proper rest, especially after last night’s sorry attempt at recharging.

Thankfully, though, Bakugou doesn’t rile you up any further as you each go through your nightly routines and take turns in the built-in bathroom, careful not to invade each other’s spaces. It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes and you’re already both plastered and tucked in your respective beds, the occasional noises from the traffic tens of floors below you the only thing filling the otherwise empty air.

But as it turns out, the getting ready for bed part isn’t the problem.

By the time it’s 10 PM, you’ve already tossed and turned roughly twenty times, agonizingly nowhere near asleep despite the luxurious bedding beneath your limbs. It’s after the 21st time, though, that you finally let your mind wander to the man on the floor and whether or not he’s asleep. He must be—having been tuckered out from producing explosives for two days straight. Still, your mind refuses to let go of the thought—brimming with boredom-fueled curiosity that’s begging for visual confirmation.

Sitting up carefully, you strain to peek at Bakugou. He’s been awfully quiet, you think to yourself.

Just a little bit more—

“Can’t sleep?”

You freeze. Shit.

“Uh, no,” you reply, aborting mission and lying back down as silently as possible. “Not really.”

“No shit. I heard you, the last twenty times.”

“Twenty-one,” you correct him. “But who’s counting?”

That earns you a laugh. “What, you scared?”

Your face reflexively contorts in offense, although it’s quick to fall when you realize you’ve actually no right to be offended. “If I told you I was, would that make me a loser?”

To your surprise, his answer is instant. “Nah.”

At that, your brows furrow. “That’s it? Just nah? No what do you think, princess, or some other equally lame taunt?”

“Oooh.” Jesus, you can practically hear him smirking. “You want me to call you princess?”

“There it is. Welcome back, Bakugou.”

A chuckle. “You’re a little shit, you know that?”

You snort. “So I’ve been told.”

Then, a pause.

“Hey,” you start again a few beats later, gaze fixed—unwavering—on the gray ceiling, “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

You gulp. “Are you scared?”

This time, the answer is not as instant, but it appears to remain the same. “…No.”

“Really?” you ask, voice inadvertently teeming with incredulity.

You hear some rustling, like he’s shrugging against the bedsheets. “I’ve gone through much worse.”

Oh…

Right.

He did die and came out as one of the most important heroes of the Great War, alongside formidable people—the very people you tapped to help you just a few days ago. Maybe he’s right not to be scared.

“Is it my turn now?” he pipes up suddenly.

Huh? “Your what?”

“My turn to ask a question.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize we were taking turns.”

“Well, we are now.”

You roll your eyes, comfortable in the knowledge that he can’t see you. “Okay, then. Go ahead.”

Now—don’t go ahead, is what you would have said, had you fucking known what he was going to say next.

“That day before winter break—” he begins, and you find yourself instantly tensing.

Fuck, no.

He huffs. “—You were gonna confess to me, weren’t ya?”

Fuck.

A deafening silence falls upon the room.

A silence that goes on for what must be a decade.

Then—

“…Is this some hidden camera prank or something?” you laugh dryly.

“No,” he says so seriously your eyes widen. “I was just…thinking about it.”

Well, fuck. Now he’s done it.

What are you supposed to do? Or say to that? Deny it and say, dude, no, you’re delusional? Or ask him where he got the motherfucking audacity and call it a day?

But then the strangest thing happens and an inexplicable feeling washes over you, one that is too nostalgic it’s almost painful.

Ah, yes.

You remember this one.

It wasn’t the first one to show up in the scene, but it was quick to envelop every other emotion afterward, lingering with you until the soothing balm that is time did its magical work and helped you forget.

The regret of not being able to admit your feelings.

And now, a full ten years later, you’re suddenly thrust with the opportunity to finally do what you failed to do then.

You don’t even have to think about it.

“Yes,” you rasp out, heart thrumming frantically against your chest. “I mean, the answer is yes, I was going to. Luckily you didn’t let me get to the embarrassing part, though, huh?”

“Look, I—”

“If you’re gonna apologize,” you cut him off, “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Bakugou. That thing’s in the past now. I’ve moved on, as fucking cheesy as it sounds.”

You then chuckle, ignoring the way your hands are stubbornly shaking. “That was just a silly high school crush, anyway.”

“Yeah, well—” he clears his throat, “I get it if you don’t want to talk about it. But…I do still want to apologize, though. For that first day, around two weeks ago.”

“What about it?”

“You don’t remember? I was an ass to you.”

First day? You don’t—

But then it all comes rushing to you—the intimidating looks, the backhanded remarks, the outright insulting comments.

He sniggers. “You just remembered now, didn’t you?”

You blanch. “I—”

“Don’t try to be nice,” he preempts. “I know I fucked up. It’s just—it was a lot to take in, and I took it out on you.”

He heaves a heavy sigh. “First it was having my past rehashed, and then when I met you I got reminded of how arrogant I was as a kid and it just felt like—”

“A slap to the face?”

Another huff. “Exactly.”

You smile—genuinely—this time wishing you were face to face so he could get a good view of it. You try to let it show in your voice instead.

“Thank you for telling me, Bakugou. Apology accepted.”

A sigh of relief. You feel your smile grow bigger.

“Now go to sleep, dumbass,” he spits, the vulnerability from just a second ago long gone, now replaced by his signature snark. “You heard the old geezer. Big day tomorrow.”

You can’t help it—you laugh.

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

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[slut4thebroken]

Little Prey

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Vampire!Jonathan Crane x reader

Summary | Jonathan catches his prey.

Warnings | Non con, smut, blood drinking, duh, hunter/prey, kissing, biting, blood as lube, creampie, praise, fear play, ionno what else.

Words | 2k+

Notes | Impossible challenge: don’t reuse the same five gifs for him skdhsk. Also btw… I edited this like once lol so don’t judge me

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Part one

“Run.” He grinned predatorily, finally showing off his fangs. “You better hope I don’t catch you.”

Jonathan stepped back once more, then you took off into a sprint. He watched you run out of the alley with a small smile on his face, but didn’t move yet. Instead, he looked down at his suit to inspect the damage; there was a hole in the lapel of his jacket and in his dress shirt, no doubt with holes in the back too. Looking down, he found the bullet on the ground behind him and picked it up, slipping it into his pocket. 

Once your panting breaths and stifled sobs started getting quieter, he sighed, then began the chase. Truthfully, he didn’t like running, but he found that usually his prey would start to slow down, especially when they could no longer see him. He was proven correct when he heard your stomping feet slow into more of a jog, then finally into a fast walk. 

When he heard your voice, he faltered. “Please, there’s a man,” you were breathing so hard, you could barely get the words out. 

“What? Hey, calm down, sweetheart.” Jonathan immediately bristled at the sound of another man’s voice. How dare you disrupt his game? “What man?”

“H-He… He’s chasing me.” Jonathan rolled his eyes, but started walking faster. If you weren’t going to play his game— fine. 

“Who?”

“I don’t know, he just cornered me in an alley and I ran.” 

He heard heavy boots take a few steps, then saw a large man peek out from an alley into the main street. When he saw Jonathan, his apprehension turned into blind confidence. 

“Him?” He asked in disbelief, pointing at Jonathan. You peaked out as well, then shakily agreed. “I’ll take care of it, darlin’.” He told you, sounding equal parts protective and self assured. 

“No, you don’t understand… He— He’s not human,” you tried to warn him, but the man didn’t listen. 

“Why don’t you leave the little lady alone, huh?” He called out, walking in Jonathan's direction. 

In response, he rolled his eyes again, then used his enhanced speed to rush over to him in less than a second. The man froze, staring down at him with wide eyes. When Jonathan moved forward, he instinctively tried to fight him off, but it was too late. The man’s scream was cut off when Jonathan ripped out the front of his neck with his teeth, but it was replaced by a scream from his little prey. 

Blood dripped down his lips and chin, staining his already ruined suit, and after a couple seconds, the man dropped to the floor. When Jonathan met your gaze, you started stumbling back, but you tripped over your own feet and landed on your butt. He watched you cry violently and scramble away from him, deeper into the alley, then he started taking slow steps toward you. 

“P-Please, leave me alone!” 

“I thought I told you to run?” He asked rhetorically, irritation heavily lacing his voice. 

“I’m sorry— please, I’m sorry.” You cried, barely able to get the words out. 

“Count yourself lucky, little one. You’re already trembling with enough fear that we don’t need to continue our little game.” His words gave you absolutely no comfort— not that he was really trying to... “So, shall we get started?”

“Please, don’t hurt me! I- I’ll do what you say.”

“It should only hurt for a moment, pet. Then you’ll start to lose enough blood that you’ll barely feel anything.” He smiled— this time he was trying to comfort you, but it was clear he wasn’t successful. That was something that always annoyed him; his prey never listened to him. They kept fighting until they were too weak to move, and every time, he’d prove himself right— that it would only hurt for a little bit at first.

He could tell you were going to try and beg some more, so he quickly ran to you, making the sounds catch in your throat. Since his suit was already ruined, he decided to go down on the floor instead of lifting you to your feet. He pushed you onto your back and crawled over you, making your crying intensify. 

“Shh… Just relax, sweet girl…” He cooed. He knew it wouldn’t work, but he said it anyway. You were weakly fighting him, so he pinned your wrists above your head with one hand. With his other hand, he gently grabbed your cheeks and turned your head, barring your neck to him. 

Your little heart was beating so fast and hard, he was worried it might give out completely. When he dragged his nose up the side of your neck and inhaled deeply, you let out a strangled sob, your body quivering violently underneath him. 

Finally, his fangs punctured the delicate skin of your neck and you screamed— an overreaction more than anything else, honestly. Jonathan groaned low in his throat when he got his first taste of the blood rushing into his mouth, then he started sucking greedily. His eyes rolled back in his head as he drank from you, completely losing all self control. 

The amount of fear he could taste was so potent, it was almost too overwhelming. It was like rich dark chocolate; utterly decadent in its intensity. 

He noticed your screaming and crying had died down and he couldn’t help but smile a little against your neck. “Good girl… Just relax.” He murmured, tenderly kissing the puncture marks on your skin. With the hand holding your cheeks, he turned your head to the other side, then let go. You were practically limp underneath him, your eyes barely able to stay open. You didn’t protest at all when he leaned down to bite the other side of your neck and start drinking from a new spot. 

You whimpered quietly when his fangs pierced your skin, the sound going straight to Jonathan’s cock. He couldn’t help it when he started rocking his hips, humping your body as he greedily devoured your blood. 

He released your wrists, but you didn’t move them away from above your head, then his hands started wandering. He groped your perfect tits, caressed the curve of your waist, felt the soft skin of your stomach beneath your shirt, and even cupped your sex over your pants. 

He could smell your minimal arousal even through the overwhelming scent of your blood. So he pushed a hand inside your pants and under your panties. He moaned quietly when he dashed his fingers through your slit, feeling the tiniest evidence of your arousal. 

Finally losing patience, he reluctantly moved away from your neck to lean up. God- you looked so incredible like this; completely debauched and covered in your own blood. He quickly opened your pants and pulled them down to your knees along with your underwear. When he got a waft of your cunt, any remaining shred of self control he might’ve possessed was gone in an instant. 

He scrambled to open his own pants, then leaned back down over you, then he hesitated. You'd feel discomfort, but you were too weak to really react… However, he didn’t want you to hurt too badly after you recovered from this… So he leaned down and sucked from the holes in your neck, then spit your blood into his hand and quickly reached between the two of you to stroke his cock, adding some lubrication. 

He pushed in slowly, needing to use quite a bit of force to actually get his cock inside. You let out a soft sound and your face scrunched up in pain. The feeling of your tight pussy almost made him bust his load right then and there, but he managed to hold back. Part of him wondered if maybe you were a virgin, but he figured your body just wasn’t aroused enough to be fully prepared to take him yet. 

Your pants around your knees were keeping your legs mostly shut, making you even tighter for him. When he bottomed out, he went completely still, just savoring the lingering taste of you on his tongue, as well as the vice-like grip of your cunt around his throbbing length. 

“Such a good girl.” He groaned, laying himself down on top of you and placing his face near your neck. “Feels so good, little one.” 

You didn’t respond— didn’t even move— but he didn’t care. You were perfect like this. He could hear your faint heartbeat and shallow breathing and knew he was close to reaching the limit before he drained you completely, but what else was he supposed to do while he fucked you? Not enjoy his prey to the fullest extent? The thought was almost laughable. So he started thrusting, forcing a barely audible whine out of you. 

Once he found a steady pace, he leaned his head back up, deciding to drink drink somewhere else this time. He pushed your top and bra up, exposing your breasts. Your nipples hardened instantly in the cool night air and he leaned down to suckle on one, moaning quietly against you. 

Part of him wished you were responsive, but he knew you would’ve just been fighting him and trying to escape, so having you completely limp and on the verge of unconsciousness was the next best thing. 

Jonathan moved to the swell of your breast, then bit down, making you groan. He wouldn’t get nearly as much blood from this part of your body, but that was a good thing since he needed to be careful now— He didn’t want to accidentally kill you. Most of the time, he’d feed until he was satisfied, whether that meant killing his prey or not, but he couldn’t do that to you…

He was already fantasizing about doing this again; finding you, chasing you, devouring you in more ways than one. He almost wanted to take you home, keep you as his little blood pet, but he enjoyed the chase too much— He’d just have to make sure you understood the rules next time. 

Maybe over time you’d even start to enjoy it. Maybe you’d beg him to fuck you before he fed so you could experience it with him. Maybe…

Jonathan’s orgasm was rapidly approaching, much to his disappointment, but he was content to let this end soon and not try to draw it out because he knew he’d be doing it again eventually. He leaned up from your breast, taking in the way your skin had lost some of its color. Then, without thinking about it, he leaned down and kissed you. 

You didn’t kiss back— obviously— but you whined at the taste of your own blood on his lips and tongue. He licked into your mouth, his thrusts becoming frenzied and desperate. When his fang accidentally nicked your lip, he let out a guttural moan and his hips stuttered before he pushed in all the way, finally coming. He sucked on your lip, practically whining at the taste of your blood as his cock twitched inside you, spurting out ropes of come deep in your little cunt. 

After another minute, he went completely still and sagged down on top of you, making your already labored breathing even worse, but he didn’t care— it wouldn’t be long to actually suffocate you. 

He caught his breath and calmed himself down, then finally sat up on his knees and slowly pulled out. A light pink mixture of his come and your blood slowly trickled out of your gaping, fluttering hole and he made a mental note to not drink so much at first so he could actually make you come next time. Poor girl, looking so incredibly needy, even while on the verge of unconsciousness…

Jonathan admired the sight of your cunt for a moment longer, then pulled up your pants and underwear before fixing your top and bra. Using his suit jacket since it was already basically trash anyway, he wiped his stained cock clean before tucking it away. Normally he’d just leave the person and trust that someone would find them and call the police or an ambulance… But normally he doesn’t fuck his prey. 

What if he left your here and some pervert came and raped you— or worse, killed you? He couldn’t possibly let that happen, not to you. So he rummaged through your purse and found your wallet, then retrieved your driver's license. Your apartment was only four blocks away and it wasn’t like he was in a rush for anything… So he grabbed your purse, then effortlessly scooped you up in his arms and started walking. 

Bonus delulu!Crane content <3

[kumquats-are-gay]

I require johnny fluff! (This is a stick up🔫) maybe with a reader who's sick/tired/injured etc

OH SHIT- ✋😨🤚

But YAYAYAY!! Tysm for giving me something! I wasn't super hopeful that I'd actually receive anything, but this and the other prompt I got have made me so happy :'] thank you thank you!!!

I planned on writing these as short little blurbs but ofc I went and got carried away. AGAIN. Go figure, lol. Anyway, I hope you like it! :D

(THIS WAS SUCH A CUTE IDEA BTW)

Johnny Cage x Reader (SFW)

Tags: no use of Y/N, gn!reader, sick!reader, sick fic, flirting, established relationship, directly pasted from Google Docs (forgive weird formatting), Johnny takes great care of you <3

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51606256

You had been out with Johnny on a date, enjoying each other’s company as the two of you walked hand-in-hand down the pavement. Everything was perfectly fine when you guys had first left: the crisp autumn air was refreshing, and little made you happier than getting to spend time with your partner. However, whatever it was you had come down with hadn’t taken long to make itself known. About half an hour into your outing, you began to feel a little clammy. At first, you had just chalked it up to the cool weather giving you the chills, but the vertigo that checked in shortly thereafter quickly changed your mind. Like hell you were going to say anything about it, though; you didn’t want Johnny to worry. So, you bit your lip and got a grip, hoping to bear through it…until you couldn’t anymore. Mumbling a weary, “I think…I’m going to pass out,” you immediately collapsed. Johnny’s reflexes were sharp, thankfully; he reached out and grabbed you before you could hit the ground.

Johnny carries you back to the car, drives home, then carries you inside the house. All the while he’s transporting you to bed, you have your face buried in his chest, weakly groaning.

He helps you remove your damp clothes before he slips a soft t-shirt over your head, which is followed by a pair of pajama bottoms being gently pulled up your legs. You’re barely able to stand, so he lays you down in the bed, literally tucking you in as he pushes the sheets in around your body. Apparently, you had made this process rather difficult; you kept feebly tugging at his arm and whining for him “not to go”. He had to continuously reassure you that he wasn’t going anywhere. “Nooo,” you had whined, “don’ leave the bed.”

He rolls his eyes affectionately and continues fussing over you, constantly touching your forehead and repositioning the blankets. You whine again as Johnny moves away, and he’s trying very hard not to give into your pleas; he needs to go get some things so that he can properly take care of you, damn it!

You just keep making those adorable little whimpering noises, though, seemingly having given up on words, and he can’t help but pivot his head to look at you. He sees you reaching out with pitiful grabby-hands, pouting adorably, and—oh, fuck it.

Johnny relents, already making his way back to you as he asks, “What about the things you’re gonna need? Water? Advil?”

You wrap your arms and legs around him like an octopus the moment he settles in next to you. “Don’eed that; jus’ need you,” you grumble against his neck. Johnny huffs in amusement, but underneath the surface, his heart is swelling with affection. When he feels you shiver against him, he knows he won’t get anywhere if he tries to get up to grab another blanket for you. Instead, he just holds you closer and pulls the duvet further up. He runs his hands through your sweaty hair, unbothered.

“Alright, honey, try to get some rest now, alright?” he says and kisses your forehead. You don’t need to be told twice; within minutes, you’re out like a light. A smile tugs at the corner of Johnny’s mouth while he gazes down at you. It truly didn’t matter whether you were all dressed up and confidently strutting about, or if you were sweating bullets through a baggy t-shirt and whining for him to hold you—Johnny always saw you as nothing short of amazing, and he’d take care of you for as long as you needed, any time you needed.

~~~

Barely a week had passed since you had first fallen ill. You had nearly made a full recovery by this point and you were feeling like a brand new person. It was in no small thanks to your boyfriend, Johnny, who tended to you every step of the way. Nothing was too big of an ask for him, though you tried not to be a bother if you could help it. He insisted that you weren’t, though, which made you feel a bit better about it.

The only times he left your side were when you really needed something. Otherwise, he was just as glued to you as you were to him, calling into work and everything to ensure that he could be there for you around the clock.

You sighed and smiled at his sleeping figure—his hair was sticking out this way and that, and the bedhead alone was enough to make you giggle. This slightly roused him from his sleep, causing him to mumble something incoherent as he pulled you against him. Your smile only grew; he was so goddamn cute. “I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” you whispered.

Johnny shakes his head and mumbles, “Nah, you’re good.” He pulls you even closer and releases a long, tired exhale. Unable to help yourself, you reach out to scratch at his scalp which elicits a pleased hum from your boyfriend. “Y’know, I think I might be getting sick,” he suddenly claims. You frown and immediately move the hand in his hair to his forehead, which causes him to grouse in disappointment. Your brow furrowed in confusion; he was slightly warmer than usual, but you wouldn’t call it a fever.

“Are you sure?” you ask, looking at him quizzically. He lazily grabs your hand and drags it back to his scalp. You take the hint and continue the task of brushing your fingers soothingly through his sandy locks.

Johnny practically purred at the sensation. The pleasurable feeling of your nails lightly dragging across his skull caused him to slur his words a bit. “Hmm, yeah,” he spoke through the haze, “real sick, but I heard a kiss c’n make you feel a lot better…”

Understanding his game now, you asked him in a tone dripping with suspicion, “Oh, really? That so?” Johnny just answered with an unconvincing ‘mmmmm-hm’ as he continued to revel in your touch. “Alright,” you acquiesced, and pressed your lips to his forehead. “Feel any better?”

“Hmm, I think I need another one for the effects to kick in,” he idly insisted. You could hear the smile in his voice, though, a clear indication that he was obviously bullshitting. You continued to entertain him anyway by giving him another kiss, this time on his cheek.

“How about now?” you pressed, though you already knew the answer.

“One more should do the trick,” he lilted, the cheeky bastard. You outright laughed this time before moving in for the final kiss. Johnny lifted his head at the last moment, surprising you a bit as he captured your mouth with his own this time. The two of you became entangled in an impromptu makeout session as you lost yourselves to each other. That is until Johnny suddenly pushed you away so he could cough into his elbow. He sounded like he was hacking up a lung. The heat that was beginning to gather in your body immediately fizzled out as worry swiftly took its place.

“Hey, are you alright?” you asked with genuine concern. He held up his index finger as if to say ‘one moment’ while he finished his coughing fit. At the end, he took a deep breath and pressed his palm to his forehead as his face twisted into a grimace.

“Ah, fuck…” Johnny sighed before he flopped back onto the mattress. “Okay, nevermind—I think I might actually be sick.”

You shook your head fondly. “Well, it’s a good thing you have me then, huh?”

Johnny smiles up at you in earnest and reaches for the hand that had long since stopped its ministrations, but he just holds it in his own this time. “I couldn’t be luckier.”

[pagemasters]

Fantasies He…

BABY’S FIRST FIC!!!

Author’s notes: So after reading so many for years I thought maybe it’s my turn to take a crack at it. There’s I think 3 parts to this, with the first one having basically no smut and mostly platonic fluff between Az and Feyre, but part 3? Can’t say the same thing for the middle Archeron sister lmao

I swear this started out to be one part but the story told me otherwise, part 2 is fully drafted I’m just revising and editing

I’m a very visual person, so enjoy the floor plan of the nursery and a rough sketch of what I think her mural would be and the star! I am a painter if it wasn’t obvious so the whole portion on starfall stars is actually based on how Bob Ross paints his northern lights, just with modifications BUT I haven’t tried it myself for this specific purpose. Also the colour of Feyre and Rhys’s stars are the colours of the first ones that hit them during Starfall btw! I love the platonic relationships between the inner circle and we don’t get enough of it

If you enjoyed it I would love u forever if you let me know!! :)

Ps. Omg dialogue is so difficult to make realistic but also in character, none of that ���hey big brother” etc. shit you see in tv shows where you’re like who tf says that to their sibling ?? Ps.ps. I haven’t taken an English writing class for 5 years so if punctuation was wrong let’s pretend it wasn’t LMAO

I CANT FIGURE OUT HOW TO DO AO3 LINK BUT IT’S ON THERE WITH THE SAME USERNAME LOL SORRY

Summary:

Azriel spends the day with Feyre, only to get caught in the rain on the way home. Good thing the townhouse is empty. Or is it…

CHAPTER ONE: DAYDREAMING

The rain finally decided to make its appearance as Azriel stepped out of the River house. Taking a deep breath, he let the soothing scent wash over him as he relaxed his wings. 

The meeting with Rhys was short, just a weekly update on the goings around the other courts and allies, nothing that required the full inner circle to make an appearance. Something he knew after centuries of this work should be a good thing, but it doesn’t stop the pang in his chest at the missed opportunity of seeing her. 

Not that he didn’t try to catch a glimpse of her. He did take a walk through the beautiful home his brother had built for his mate after seeing him, the smell of cedar and masonry long since faded from the construction days; replaced with flowers and candles and the dinner his shadows whispered Nuala and Cerridwen were working on. The scent of paint lingered though, and he discovered the reason why as he got to the residential wing. His High Lady wasn’t in her studio, but he found her nonetheless with a brush in her tattooed hand. 

“I think you missed a spot.” Az said from the doorway, trying to repress his smile at her startled reaction. Even though Feyre and Rhys opted for doorways fashioned with wings in mind, he kept his drawn in tight, not wanting to risk smearing her paint as he stepped inside. 

“Rhys won’t let me use the step ladder without him holding it. And me. And the bump.” Feyre twisted to look up from her spot on the floor and smiled in greeting before lowering the brush to pat her stomach in emphasis. She gave her mate’s antics an affectionate eye roll and shake of her head before releasing a heavy sigh, glancing back at her work. 

“If I remember correctly,” Az teased, “you are prone to falling quite spectacularly.”

She let out an indignat squawk so loud he had to bite his lips to prevent laughing, her body spinning so fast to face him fully that paint ended up splattering from her brush to the white drop cloth. 

Their flying lessons had ceased for the most part since the war, so watching her fly into a tree or eat rocks wasn’t as common an occurrence— but that’s not to say that still doesn’t happen. Knowledge he happens to be privy to not just as her flight teacher, but as the spymaster, something she’s very aware of if the narrowing of her eyes and mouth hanging open are any indication. 

It’s hard not to notice the similarities between the sisters, when even with your eyes closed the cadence of their speech was also similar. But it was never so apparent between youngest and oldest Archeron as when Feyre’s eyes pinned him in place, the expression of mock outrage was so much like Nesta’s it was almost comical. 

“Ruuuude,” she said, drawing the word out in a whine with pouted lips, no doubt remembering the amount of face plants he’d witnessed when she first began to fly. “I see how you treat your High Lady, Shadowsinger. Just wait, it’s not too late for me to paint a little something in your bedroom.”

“And here I thought pouting and grumbling was beneath royalty, at least you can say you’re a tree hugger.”

She gave him a gesture that was certainly beneath royalty, and he didn’t hold back his chuckle this time. 

“What gave you that idea, have you even met Rhys?” 

“Oh trust me, you should’ve seen him when we were kids.” He said, grabbing her hands to help her stand. “He discovered in a book that while bat wings look identical to ours, the anatomy of their wing is labeled similar to that of the hand. So for them, their talons are their thumbs. After that, he took it upon himself to hang upside down in silent protest whenever he was mad, but didn’t want his mother to wash his mouth out with soap for swearing.”

“He did not.”

“Mhmm, until his faced turned purple.”

“And where were you and Cass for all this?” Feyre said through her giggling, a wide grin of unrestrained joy plastered on her face. 

“He couldn’t have done it alone, a thumbs down by yourself would look stupid.”

“Ah yes, because the three of you hanging upside down like overgrown bats isn’t ridiculous.” She cackled, “How long until he gave it up?”

“A few weeks. After Cassian passed out in the middle of camp and we all got broken capillaries on our faces. Still, a better alternative than the awful tasting soap in Illyria.” 

“What, as opposed to other tasting soap?” He just shrugged, smiling. 

Rhys’s mom’s reaction to warriors dragging them across the rocky ground home was as lively in his memory as she was when she berated them when her son fessed up. She was less thrilled to hear the real reason than Devlon was having passed out children strewn about the place, but she never did call them out on the lie they fed to Devlon about it being a dare when he came banging on their door. That night though when they were more lucid, she brought them on foot to one of the mountains surrounding their outpost and stood them at the opening of a cave. He still remembers the eyes he felt on them, the warning bells ringing from his shadows as she gestures her hands out and said, “If you want to act like bats, you can join them; or you can toughen up, learn how and when to pick battles and what hills are worth to dying on. Because there will be more people who will piss you off, but this is not an option when you’re leading armies. So,” her hazel eyes meeting each of theirs, “What will it be? Do you want to stay here or take the soap and fly right on home.” Needless to say they bolted home with the taste of pine tar suds coating their mouths like a film no amount of water could rid them of the taste. He could still feel the eyes of whatever was in that cave the entire way home, but thank the cauldron he could fly at that point. His heart ached at the memory of the female, the one he knew picked a low cave for him to make her point, just in case. The one his shadows caught a few times after that upside down on the couch after a rough day when she thought she was alone. 

As Feyre’s amusement continued with eyes glazed over—no doubt having a silent conversation with Rhys—Az cleared his throat, his shadows pulling back as he gestured to their surroundings and asked, “So how’s the nursery coming along?” 

“It’s going great,” she replied after a moment, her laughter subsiding as she surveyed the mural.  “I know it’s not geographically correct, and that Starfall and the time when our courts insignia’s stars show don’t overlap, but I couldn’t not include them. I want  him and any possible future child to see the night court as I did when I first fell in love with it and their dad.” 

Indeed, while he knew Rhys was already in love with her, he got to watch Feyre love him back as much as he deserved in real time the longer she was here. And the way she captured the land they all loved so much here was… breathtaking. 

On the wall that held the doorway he just stepped through lay the mountain with the moonstone palace atop it. The first place she saw here. They both knew where the doors to Hewn city rest below, but it was covered by the landscape. As if there were no room for nightmares in this room, even if it was a court this babe may one day rule. 

“I have no idea how you made that mountain so realistic,” he said to her in awe, pointing to the painting adjacent to the wall they just looked at. 

“The crib is going to go right below it when the rooms done. I want it to watch over him.” She replied almost reverently as she looked up. 

The mountain was the tallest of the three she painted, and it looked just as it had on his trek up there with his brothers during the rite. Physically it was practically stone for stone, those three stars lines up overhead perfectly, but the energy differed. Instead of the cold and foreboding thing he remembered on the way up, it seemed almost… euphoric? As if the wild joy and love Rhysand, Cassian and he felt as they made their way to the top and won seeped its way onto the painting. Like the unyielding strength from that mountain and what it brought out of them would guide and protect him, just like it did for the three winged dots surrounding the monolith at the tip. How that was even possible was beyond him. 

He could barely tear his gaze away, but snickered as he saw the tiny but recognizable building at the base of it to the right. “The cabin, huh?”

“Of course, gotta prep him for one day kicking all of your asses during your snowball fight.” She added, blushing. “I put few snowballs flying just for good luck.”

Though he knew the other reason the cabin was significant to Feyre and Rhys, the thought of his future nephew joining their game warmed him. But It did make trying not to focus on other non-winged and winged babies that could one day join in the snowball fight impossible. Children have always been an abstract idea, a figment he knew existed but besides Rhys’s sister, he wasn’t around. And after what happened to her… He thought for a long time he would never have one of his own, but that sentiment start to change in recent years. He could avoid it most days though, but being surrounded by the baby stuff made the hypothetical harder to ignore. The thoughts on if he’d have his own little ones propped on his hip and curled into his chest with their chubby cheeks and inquisitive eyes. If they would have his hazel or her golden brown ones, or something different if they adopted. Would their little hands or clothes or hair get caught in the scales of his armour just like hers did when he took her on her first flight to the town house from the House of Wind, when he held her for the first time. Would Elain… Az paused, stopping that train of thought before it just twisted the knife even further, seeing more things he can’t have. 

His shadows began to circle him, and if Feyre noticed she politely didn’t comment on it before pointing out what she was working on when he interrupted her. 

To the right of the cabin and right were she was sat Velaris, and it really did look like a city of starlight with how she painted the glowing nightscape. He could make out the four markets that were the heart of the city, with extra emphasis on where the town house sat along with the new residence they were currently in. Bisecting through it all, the Sidra River looked so realistic he could probably skip a rock across its surface. It flowed like a living thing, reflecting the lights from the buildings on its edge and even the stars above. Two of which weren’t normal stars. 

Above the city proper and even the flat topped mountain that held the House of Wind was the beginnings of starfall. 

“How-“Azriel could barely get out, “how is this even possible?”

“Perks of now being immortal; plenty of time to practice. And having a husband with wings who takes you to get aerial views.” She simply said gesturing to their city, as if she didn’t create magic with swipes of colours. 

“The green one is mine, and the light blue one is Rhys’s. I’m planning to get everyone to add their own star to the wall.” Now looking him, she smirked. “Which means you came at a perfect time, Shadowsinger. Your turn.”

He gave her an unbelieving expression, shadows instantly vanishing. “You can’t be serious.”

Her eyes twinkled with mischief, “if I trust Cassian with a paintbrush, you’ll be fine. He’s coming by in a few days when he gets a free moment, Nesta and her two friends are keeping him busy with training.” Nesta is keeping him busy with more than just that, it’s a wonder he even has energy to train them. 

But looking at Rhysand’s mate, Azriel saw her glow in a way different from her powers. Feyre radiated joy as her hand cradled her stomach despite barely showing, not caring about paint getting on her already splattered clothes. For his brother, for the friend beside him and his nephew in her womb, he removed his jacket and let out a resounding sigh in defeat. “What do you need me to do?” 

So Feyre excitedly brought him over to her pile of paint tubes on the drop cloth. She grabbed the white and as he selected the colour phthalo blue she went off to prep the clean, dry brushes and a fresh palette for him. 

“So pick the area of the sky you want your star to be, I’d like to keep the inner circle’s additions mostly above Velaris, but I’ll add tiny ones fading out once everyone is done. Amren and Mor are away, Cass is busy and who knows if or when Nesta would want to contribute. That means besides Rhys and I, you have the pick of the litter.”

“What about Elain?” He asked, trying to keep his voice and face as neutral as possible when she handed him a 3 inch brush already dipped in his blue. 

“I’ll drag her in here after dinner when she gets in from the garden. The colour of the sky is already dry which is the important part, so there’s no time constraint on when everyone adds theirs besides my due date.” She gave him a knowing smile which he dutifully ignored, along with the disappointment in his chest as she confirmed Elain wasn’t in. “Now I want you to cover a large area of where you generally want the shape of the star to go, it doesn’t have to be perfect but cover much more than you think you’d need to.”

He hesitates, “won’t this cover up your sky? It’s a dark colour.”

“Just trust me.”

He followed her instructions, cringing as his brush made contact with her beautiful wall and went over the faint background stars she had already done, but relaxed when he saw they were still partially visible. 

Az looked back at her, seeing his shadows lazily inspecting them, as if they wanted a part in the activity their master is occupied with. Feyre playfully eyed the curious one that grazed her hand as she took his current brush from his scarred hand to switch it. “Now with this fan brush, I want you to coat it in the white paint. And as you do so, get a feel for how the bristles bend and move.”

Doing as High Lady said, he got her guidance once he brought the loaded brush to the wall, being sure to dab, not swipe the white in a near full coverage circle followed by a line over the shade of blue he had no idea how to pronounce. 

“So this is where the magic begins,” she stated when he finished and passed a third brush over, a flat paddle one identical to the first and this time a cloth. “You see that perfectly clean teardrop you made? You’re gonna ruin it.”

At the alarmed look he gave her, she just cackled. “I knew you’d make that face, Rhys did the exact same. I want you to very lightly swipe the brush starting at the largest end of the teardrop and out towards the tail of the star. That’s the only motion you’ll be doing. And after each swipe you can gently wipe off the brush before starting again. You can also practice the strokes around the mountain until you feel ready like Rhys did, the sky there is also dry.”

With a deep breath, he took a step away and tried it until he felt like he got the technique she wanted down. This was for his family, he reminded himself, he will not let his nephew down. And despite getting her nod of approval, he still felt like he was going in blind as he did what she said and his jaw dropped. 

Well shit. Now he understood why she wanted him to put down the colour he chose first. 

“The blue is actually transparent; so while it looks dark in the tube, it blends out much lighter. Especially with white under or overtop. You’re doing wet-on-wet blending.” What was once just a bright blob over blue so dark you couldn’t see it on her perfect walls, he could now see how the white faded. How the light and the dark mixed until they became one. So Az wiped the excess off his brush, and continued on and on until it looked similar enough to what she and Rhys created. They fell into a rhythm, Feyre handing him back the fan brush to brighten or a new one with bristles so impossibly soft as they worked as a team. She barely had to tell him what to do now, so with next to no pressure he feathered it out vertical rather than the almost horizontal strokes from before, until only a streak of blue light remained. They could’ve been at this for minutes or hours, he had no idea. He didn’t even question her instruction to use a densely bristled tool he could’ve sworn was a toothbrush to flick on watered down white paint for the star trail. 

“This is incredible, Feyre.” He stated, stepping back at last.

“That wasn’t me, that was all you my friend.” She grinned at him. “Once everyone’s is dry, I’m adding a sheer shimmery paint to make them pop, but even without it you did a beautiful job.”

He felt heat rise to his face, and inclined his head in thanks without removing his eyes from the wall. 

“You certainly have an eye for this, Az. Care to quit and become a painter? I could use an assistant.”

A chill went through him, and he started to turn in her direction before the window caught his attention. Dusk must have fallen along with the rain who knows how long ago. About to rub his temples, Feyre squeaked out a warning before he remembered the task at hand and looked down at himself. The plain black long sleeve shirt covered in splatters didn’t matter, he goes through them like water for work but the paint coating his skin made his stomach drop the same way her jest did. Much different than the red he was used to seeing there, all the blood he still couldn’t wash away.

He can paint a picture with his knife, but nothing like Feyre’s ability of creation. Each slash he makes as delicate and precise a dance as any Nesta favours, but instead it’s to a symphony of screams. And unlike Elain… the only soil he sees is grave dirt. If the bodies make it that far. 

His work is never meant to been seen by others, it’s means to and end, a way to protect his family and his court. Unlike their work, where it would be a crime to hide it from the world.

“Tempting offer, Cursebreaker,” Az murmured, swapping the dirty cloth for a damp one his shadows brought him. Paying close attention to his siphons and not his scars, he still didn’t feel clean enough no matter how hard he wiped the paint from his skin. “Sadly, I don’t think your mate would be too thrilled to have to hire someone else to feed the creatures in Hewn City.”

She snorted, making a lighthearted comment about at least no one had to feed Byraxis, for now… The forced tease in her voice didn’t fool him as she realized she must’ve hit a nerve, but he appreciated her effort anyway.

“I do have to head out, but I’ll pop by soon to see the progress when I drop off paperwork.” He told her, his lips pressed to the top of her head and shockingly made contact with her hair in a brief farewell. Rhys must’ve lessened the shield knowing Az was with her, but not by much considering both her and the babe’s scent was still concealed. 

Feyre did invited him to stay for dinner which he politely declined. It wouldn’t be served for an hour, but he needed space and to fly to clear his head—still feeling like if he looked down he’d be dripping blood that didn’t belong to him as he made his was out. He did try not to rush out as he walk through the maze of supplies strewn about the covered floor, keeping his wings high even as his shadows tugged at him, but he had a feeling she knew his reason for leaving. Well, at least the other reason. 

Lightning cracks through the sky, snapping Azriel out of his memories. Damn, He must be more tired than he thought. If breaking one of the cardinal rules of flying—also known as “PAY ATTENTION JACKASS!” by his brothers when they taught him—wasn’t enough, he’s not even going to the right place. Despite not living there for years, he’d been heading towards the town house and not the House of Wind. 

The storm just seems to be picking up, but at least with the downpour he no longer felt the warm spray of blood coating him rather than the paint, he just felt nothing at all. Well, nothing besides wanting to get the fuck home. Az really didn’t have the energy to fly up a mountain or winnowing through this even if it wouldn’t be his first time. But considering how often lightning hits the rocks rather than the surrounding city, crashing at the town house is easiest. It’s for the best, with it sitting empty now. At least he’d be alone. 

Az pauses mid-flight though, when he notices the lights already on inside. And the smoke rising from the chimney only to dissipate in the rain.

What the hell? Who would be dumb enough to break into their high lord and inner circle’s home? It’s not like it’s broadcasted who owns the house but it’s pretty common knowledge after this long. 

At least storms can be a great tool for his field of work, it’s almost a blessing in disguise he plans to use to its full advantage. Landing atop the roof as gently as possible, he ensures his wing beat blends in with the rain like it has hundreds of times before. Using his siphons to unlock the door and slipping inside, the creak of the hinge merely just a gust of wind as he shuts it behind him. 

That’s when the smell of jasmine and honey hits him so strongly he has to bite back his moan. But it seems like he was the only one who did. 

Because mixed within that scent ingrained in his brain, is Elain’s arousal. 

And she’s…

Oh fuck. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck

[fishyingrn]

Swap AU Aleheather post!!

I love love LOVED (agh I can't say it enough sorry!!) @swinginspaceagebachelorette 's au of TDWT (≧∇≦) ʃ♡ƪ !! It's specifically a swap au between Alejandro and Sierra, and the way she writes Alejandro is just so endearing to read! He's like a golden retriever that has random knowledge! The fact she lowered the psycho-stalker quality is what helped endear his swap personality especially!! I think I already pestered her in her comment section about his personality and appreciating the heck out of her writing there 😹 I doodled a bunch since I just loved her au sm!!!

But before I start dumping doodles I made from the fic, the link to her fic is here ! Make sure you have an AO3 account before you read of course though!!😸

NOW FOR THE DOODLES MAUHAHAHAHHAHA

This is a scene from the fic ♪(^∇^*)! It's from one of the most recent chapters (chapter 29)

Zoom out of the scene lol

I still find it funny and shocking that Heather is able to support the weight of a man over 6 ft on her head 🙀Her head's gotta be made of STEEL! Super scary just how strong it is! Steel is my only conclusion for her head strength.. (Yes I'm not going to acknowledge the shocked Gwen, her issue of the day! she partook in cheating like a gross person and in great irony considering her s1 ordeal with Heather & Trent (* ￣︿￣))

ANYWAYS ONTO THE HC SECTION!!

These hcs are Aleheather centric like the one above since they're cutie patooties in the fic AND it's an Aleheather fic what do u want from me..(～o￣3￣)～

I think it'd be a nice off screen past time that Alejandro info dumps to Heather and she's at least partially listening! The dynamic kind of reminds me of Phineas and Ferb's parents in a sense where the dad infodumps to the mom and she just listens + enjoys it(❁´◡`❁) I LOVE that dynamic btw! It's such an endearing dynamic that to find it in my fav tdi ship is so sweet (to me at least!)

Onto my next hc!

Since Alejandro is taking the place of Sierra in this au, I thought it'd be sweet that he also adopted her hobby of glitter glue crafts. You know who also has a hobby of glitter glue crafts?! HEATHER💥

I'd think in one of Alejandro's off screen infodumps, he talks about his hobby of glitter glue crafts, the techniques and brands related to the aforementioned to Heather! She'd slip out some of her knowledge and love for it, OR she immediately starts rambling back about glitter glue crafts!!

THAT'S RIGHT BABY ( •̀ ω •́ ) !

Swap!Aleheather bonding over GLITTER GLUE CRAFTS 💥💥Ugh just how much more cute can you get with that headcanon?!

Another hc incoming!!

Since Heather always has her hair up in a ponytail in the main series, I thought a nice way to show her trust is with her hair! In general her hair has always been something special to her, that's why she fought for a wig in season 2. Since an AMAZING amount of value is placed on her hair, her showing her trust to Alejandro through her hair would be a nice way to visually show she trusts him! Alejandro basically the only genuine bond she's shown to make in the series, canon and in the fic, so I think the swap hcs make it just all the more sweet (/▽＼) !! In a way, since to Swap-ejandro Heather is just a celebrity crush, this sort of interaction deepens their relationship and his feelings beyond just a celeb crush (❁´◡`❁)

NOW FOR THE LAST HC!

This one isn't an Aleheather hc, but moreso a hc focused on Swap-ejandro's appearance! I think that as a trade off, he's not as physically built as canon Alejandro but instead taller compared to him (which is scary considering canonically Alejandro is 6 ft..) Since he's in the place of Sierra in this AU, he probably has enough strength to fight off baboons, he probably just has a hidden build! In general, Sierra and Alejandro in this AU had their skills and personalities swapped, so as a result their backstories technically were too with some small tweaks! I think this AU has been fun to make a bunch of hcs in, congrats if u got to the end of me convulsively info dumping about my hcs on the awesome au (lll￢ω￢) !

Full credits to the author man! She's mega talented! Please support @swinginspaceagebachelorette's work and any future works from her! o(〃＾▽＾〃)o

Signing off, hope this reaches the right audience!

[azucar-skull]

Buzz Brained

(written for @tmnt-write-fight for @rbtlvr)

Fandom: Rise of the TMNT (post movie)

Prompt: (rottmnt) anything with casey jr. maybe him adjusting to the new timeline? talking things out with leo? up to you! can be hurt/comfort or just fluff i am not picky

Word Count: 2030

Posted on AO3 too!

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Btw, @lasanya539 and I ended up working on this prompt at the exact same time so we've been helping each other out. Lol. Be sure to check out her attack too! (Will link when ready)

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It’s over.

The Kraang are gone. The team has recovered. Casey is (slowly) adjusting to the new timeline. Things look like they might actually be okay now.

But something keeps churning inside of Casey’s stomach. Like a black hole twisting and twisting. Sometimes it gets hard to breathe even though Casey’s just sitting on the couch just trying to relax. And sometimes he feels restless. Twitchy. Like that time as a child he snuck into Captain Donatello’s lab and drank his coffee. His brain would just…buzz. Incessant buzzing. With no way to abate it.

He tries the breathing Master Michelangelo once taught him. Tries shaking his arms out the way Captain Donatello told him about. Tries distracting himself with hobbies the way Master Leonardo did. But it doesn’t help. Something is rattling and boiling inside.

And it needs to be let out.

The next time he feels this buzziness is when Donnie asks him to grab Shelldon’s charging port from the lab. It takes him a minute to remember what’s going on. …What did Donnie ask him to do?

The buzz grows stronger, and Casey stands still. He feels himself beginning to space out. His fingers flex of their own volition. The only thing he can control is his breathing and…

Wait…what was he doing again?

Lightning erupts inside of his brain and suddenly the teen’s shoulders and jaw lock up tight, restricting his airways. Before he can register what is happening, his eyes roll back into his head, his head guiding the momentum of falling back hard on the ground. The force of the impact rings him anew and suddenly he can breathe again, gasping for air as he processes what the fuck just happened.

With his medical apprentice knowledge, Casey wants to say that it was a seizure. But it didn’t check off all the boxes. He was still awake, still aware. Never sustained a head injury, even now, his back taking the main hit of the fall. Never had one before so obviously he isn’t born with some seizure causing disorder. So…what the hell?

Casey sits up, cautiously. Nothing else hurts besides his back because…ow. Doesn’t feel dizzy, heartbeat and breathing seem fine. In fact, Casey feels pretty great. The buzziness is all gone.

Well alright then, case closed. Good job, me.

Now…why was he in Donnie’s lab again? Oh right, charging port. Casey gets up, dusting his knees and locating Shelldon’s port quickly. He picks it up and carries it back to the TV room where the others are waiting.

“There you are, I was starting to think you didn’t know what I looked like.”, Donnie calls out as he takes the charging port from the teen.

“Ah, yeah, sorry. I…got kinda sidetracked.”, Casey smiles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

Donnie pays him no mind and sets up the port for his robot son. And Casey tries to act cool again, ignoring the side-eye from Leo.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

These…instances keep happening. About two weeks go by without any issue until the buzz-brained feeling comes back. And then it all happened again! While Casey was trying to do his homework! What gives? Then it happens again another two weeks later. And again. And again. It’s been going on for a few months now.

Casey tries not to think about it. Because even thinking about it makes his brain all buzzy. And if his brain is buzzing then he’ll think about it even more. And if he thinks about it even more then—

“You alright, Casey?”, April asks.

He blinks and suddenly remembers that he’s at April’s having a Girls Night with Cass and Sunita (and him and Leo for some reason so is it really a girls night??). He glances down at the pink nails April has been painting on him.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m good.”, Casey nods. His brain starts to buzz more.

He looks up at the TV to try and distract himself. They’re binge-watching all the Tinkerbell movies, the current one being The Great Fairy Rescue where Tinkerbell is trying to break out of a bird cage. He seems to be staring a bit too blankly, but he can’t seem to bring himself to look away. He’s not even focusing on the screen anymore.

“What kind of fairy do you think I would be?”, Leo asks.

“I would be a fire fairy.”, Cass nods.

“Fire fairies don’t even exist.”, Sunita snarks. “What about a light fairy?”

“Do they commit arson?”

“Well…no—”

“I want to be one of the queens.”, Leo says decidedly. “What do you think, Case?”

Casey barely stirs at his name being called. Poor Tinkerbell stuck in a cage. The bars are pretty wide though. Couldn’t she fit through? What a dumbass fairy.

“Casey?”

Man, his head hurts. …When did the lights get all blurry? Casey blinks, trying to clear his vision. This can not be happening in front of the others. The teen is just anxious from all this new world stuff, it’s just something he’s making up for attention. Though wait if it’s for attention, then how come he’s been trying to hide it? That just doesn’t make any sense—

His eyelids slip down as his eyeballs roll back into his head again, his head suddenly dropping forward as if cut from a puppet string. Shit! Not now! This can’t be happening right now! He tries to move, tries to force himself back to normal like he’s been doing this whole time. But he’s stuck.

“Casey!”, the others shout.

“Case, you okay?”, April asks again, shaking his shoulders. But Casey can’t respond, can’t even lift a finger.

Leo gets up close, at least Casey thinks so. He can’t see shit right now. “Looks like a seizure. Here, we should prop him up against something before he falls.” Ah, the infamous Leo medic mode.

He feels the others scoot close, using a group cuddle to hold him up. Oh, that’s nice. Someone moves his chin so that he can breathe easier. At least he can control that. He tries to let them know he’s here but all that comes out is a helpless sputter.

“You’re good, Case. We got you.”, Sunita assures.

“Come on, mini me, you can fight it!”, Cass encourages.

A couple minutes go by. And suddenly Casey’s eyes snap open again and he heaves, like waking up from a bad dream. And ow his head hurts from his eyes being stuck like that for so long. He squeezes them shut, sitting more upright as he groans.

“Careful, Case.”, Leo jumps in. “You shouldn’t move so much after—”

“It’s fine, Leo.”, Casey gripes. “It wasn’t a seizure.”

“Well what the hell is it?”, Cass tilts her head. “You looked possessed.” Sunita gives her a good jab with his elbow. “Hey, ow!”

“I…I’m not sure, really.”

“Well you seem to act like you’ve done this before.”, April crosses her arms and raises a brow. “How long has this been going on?”

“Ehh…4 months?”

“4 MONTHS?!”, everyone shouts.

“And you didn’t TELL US?!”, Leo adds.

“Well I’m always fine afterwards so it’s not like there's any imminent danger.”, the teen squeaks, rubbing the back of his neck. “I figured it would just go away. Besides…you’re still recovering from the invasion. You and the others. I didn’t want to add more to your plate.”

“Oh, baby…”, April laments, putting a hand on his shoulder. “That is…the stupidest excuse I’ve ever heard in my entire life. You need to see a doctor about this. Sooner rather than later.”

The woman gets up, taking her phone out of her pocket as she hurries over to the kitchen.

“I’m calling my mom, she’s a neurologist. No friend of mine is going to deal with “not seizures” like this by himself.”, she huffs.

Casey can’t help but feel more tense now that the others are getting involved. Back in the Resistance, this would be considered a nuisance.

“I don’t know if you know this, but this isn’t the Resistance.”, Leo points out. Wait, how could he read my mind— “Your suffering is just as valid, big or small. Hell, knowing Raph, he’ll have an aneurysm if someone so much as scrapes their knee. So promise me. No more hiding things.”

Casey presses his lips together. “...If I promise to not hide things, are you going to promise the same?”

“Nnnnot a chance.”

“Figured.” .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

“Let’s take a look, dear, shall we?”

Casey’s lucky that Mrs. O’Neil had a free hour the next day. He sits down on the exam table and lets the doctor do the work. He trusts her, Casey knows Dr. O’Neil from the future…past. Even if she doesn’t know him quite well. She pokes and prods the teen’s arms. Has him run a few series of tests. Asks him a few questions about these episodes. The doctor scratches her forehead as she looks down at her clipboard.

“Sounds like PNES if I were to guess.”, she says finally.

“...what’s that?”

“Psychogenic non-epileptic seizures.”, Dr. O’Neil explains. “It’s like a psychosomatic response to repressed trauma and other psychological disorders.”

“...Are you saying I have PTSD?”, Casey squints his eyes.

“Are you saying you don’t?”, Carol raises a brow. “You grew up in a literal apocalypse. As a soldier nonetheless. Without any chance to stop and take a break, I presume. You could bleed out to death but still force yourself to fight, am I right?”

Casey tries to testify but the only thing leaving his mouth is a sigh. She’s not wrong. There was no time for Casey to be having a moment in the apocalypse. Everything becomes a burden, even stuff like hunger and thirst. He had to hide it. For the sake of the Resistance. For the sake of the world.

“Casey…”, Carol sighs sympathetically. “Your body has been put under so much stress that it doesn’t know where to go. It causes you to feel nauseous or lose sleep, and those things turn into real problems like GI issues and insomnia. PNES is just simply another one of those psychosomatic symptoms that get way out of hand when left untreated.”

“So how do we treat it? How is it cured?”

“In some cases, it’s never cured. But we can work on managing it. As long as you’re willing.”, the doctor smiles. “The war is over now, Casey. It’s time to let your guard down. It’s time to heal.”

Ha. Yeah. Easier said than done. .-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

It takes a long time for Casey to get used to things. For starters, everyone is notified of the disorder and Donnie provides a lengthy lecture on the signs and how to help Casey out with his episodes. It feels embarrassing to be this coddled. This must’ve been how Master Michelangelo felt.

Of course things like seeing a therapist were in order. He was even prescribed antidepressants too for his anxiety. It was a tough process, talking things out with someone in a way that doesn’t imply he’s secretly from the future, as well as finding the right medication. But it does get easier.

And when an episode does happen…

“We’re right here, Casey. Let me just lean you back a bit…there we go.”, Leo reassures softly.

Small 3-fingered hands are holding his own gently. Spikes are leaned against him, keeping him steady. Someone is coaching him on how to breathe. He regains control of his eyes, blinking them open for a moment before shutting them tight against the lights.

“There we go, all done.”, Mikey smiles, the hands holding his squeeze. “That one was pretty fast.”

“Indeed. And the times in between each episode are getting longer.”, Donnie nods. “An optimal rate of improvement, well done, Junior.”

“Thanks you guys.”, Casey smiles, opening his eyes again once the lights stop hurting. “And…thanks for not giving up on me.”

“Of course!”, Raph beams. “We’re family now. In this timeline and the next.”

Yeah, he’s right. Casey will be okay. He just needs to trust his family more. There was no point in hiding. No use in keeping it a secret.

He’s not alone anymore.

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

Decided to have fun and gave Casey PNES as that's the running theory that my neurologist has for me. After a lot of research, I highly doubt it's the case, but until then let it be known that I did my best to maintain accuracy based on the research provided and the personal experiences I've endured.

In other words...Source: trust me bro

[craftyqween]

Ever After High: Revived and Alive

Sooooo… I kinda sorta made a post on Pinterest saying I’d make an EAH fanfic that was kinda gonna be like a continuation of the series- yes I know that’s a lot BUT I plan to release a new chapter on here, Pinterest, and AO3 at least every 3 months (but I’m really passionate about this so I might be on my zoom and post quicker) I plan to do maybe 5 different books? Or maybe you could call it 5 different seasons? Whatever, anyway- over the next two weeks I will binge watch everything and I mean EVERYTHING eah so I can capture it to the best of my abilities (obvi I won’t be able to perfectly capture it since I ain’t the one who came up with the idea lol). Then I might take awhile to figure out what I want to actually do with the story- again I’m passionate about this sooo imma be on my zoom. If you have any questions feel free to ask (btw I’ll be linking my Pinterest and AO3 acc later.) :D Remember to drink water and get hyped! Also reblog this so more people can see and maybe have some of the devastation that came with eah getting cancelled go away…

[toraawa]

ive been a fan of yours for a while and i gotta say, i think you have the best grasp of yurisere/predatorshipping in the fandom. you actually take their characters into consideration and acknowledge their complexity as two stunted individuals who are very different but similar instead of diminishing them to memey single-trait characters. its amazing how many other other fans reduce serena to only "edgey mean girlboss" and yuri to only "nasty psycho" and then call any other version of the ship than constant hate fucking, backhanded affection and beating each other to a pulp "wrong". very tiring how only a handful of us dont like that to be the only thing they ever do

btw, your fics on ao3 are a godsend. judging by your stats im definitely not alone in loving how you write yurisere. thank you for doing the lords work. cant wait to see more updates

First of all, thank you for the high praise! It's the second time this week I've been told something similar, lol!

Though I will say anon, the rest sounds pretty charged towards something or someone particular in the fandom, so at the risk of aggravating some current stuff I don't know about...

Yeah. I agree. A lot. You pretty much summed up my thoughts perfectly.

"Edgy mean girlboss" and "nasty psycho" for Serena and Yuri respectively is... extremely accurate, lol, to the point where I kinda have to laugh bitterly for how pervasive it is. Like, I know they both got shafted hard by canon, but it's a bit annoying when so many people override Serena's multifacetedness to fit the girlboss mold and accuse Yuri of being one-dimensional. I'vs seen some even get strangely angry at the prospect of him not just being the sadistic plant guy. I just don't think him only being that is true. Then again, I'm a staunch defender of the assessment that most of Yuri's character is shown, not told.

Unfortunately, the fanon interpretation of characters overriding canon is something that happens in pretty much any fandom, so there's not much we can do but ignore it and find like-minded people. It's super annoying, but it can't be helped. There's also a broader phenomenon of prioritizing tropes and meme-y dynamics over actually appealing characters, so there's that too.

Since we're all waiting for more canon interaction, I'm definitely in the minority in that I don't think Yuri and Serena's interactions in Duel Links will be a pure hostility fest the entire time. I've also gotten accusations over the years that my Yurisere writing is objectively "wrong" for a plethora of reasons, many of which you stated above, so... there's THAT, too.

At the same time though, that isn't to say Yuri and Serena would never fight or bicker or even be mean to each other — I never expect them to be completely nice and friendly to each other right off the bat. And people are free to write and draw whatever they want — I want to express my disagreement and only that here — so if I don't like it, I ignore it. The people who don't fall into fanon have a much more appealing, deep, and romance-forgiving interpretation of yurisere to me, so I just focus on that!

Anyway, thank you once again for being a fan of my writing! I'm honestly surprised at the following for my current fics on ao3. The Arc-V tag doesn't get much engagement despite being updated every day. It's always great to know there are others who enjoy and share my idea of Yurisere, so to anyone lurking: don't be afraid to reach out!

[iphoenixrising]

(6am / Prime Girl back with a hit of randomness hehe)

hi babe!! It’s been a long time since I’ve been around ;; I’m sorry about that! I saw your recent post about some health and family things that have been happening, and I am absolutely heartbroken for you. I really really hope that you’re doing well, and that you and kiddo’s year will be able to finish off well!!!<3 ;;

I’m actually back around bc I thought about you when I was driving home from work today and!!! I just really really wanted to come and tell you how much I look up to you as an author and how much you’ve inspired me even after these years since I first found your beautiful works ><

the way you write about emotion and intimacy and how it interweaves in so many different ways is something I think about every time I write something - I always think about the emotions you made me feel with your writing and how wonderful your works are I also post fics on AO3 now, but it’s particularly my ABO fic I wanted to mention to you because I’ve had multiple comments being like ‘I didn’t like abo before this’ or ‘some other fics I read were weird but this one made me give the genre a chance’ and in my head I’m always like OMG THATS HOW I WAS WITH WINTER BABE!! it makes me so SO incredibly happy and I’m always thinking about and am so grateful that you and your wonderful works literally changed not just the genre for me forever and made me ADORE the concept, but showed me that it can relate to love and yearning and intimacy in such incredible ways ㅠㅠ (I also get tons of comments abt people begging for mercy bc they cry every chapter but that’s not the point LOL)

Thank you so so much for being such an amazing author that not only produces beautiful works, but that has always interacted with me so kindly ㅠㅠ I was going through a lot of things when I was reading your works and they always brought me so much comfort (they still do btw!) and really showed me a way of writing that let me escape from my world for a bit and would have me in tears at 6am ><

Anyways, my life is surprisingly busy nowadays and I know yours is too, but I just wanted you to know that this blog will always hold such a special place in my heart and you inspire me always!!! much much love to you and to kiddo! I am seriously wishing you guys all the best, and I’ll try to be around a little sooner than this next time! 🥺

(p.s. IM SO SO SO SO INCREDIBLY HAPPY YOU LIKED THE CEO TIM PROMPT I WAS GIGGLING KICKING MY FEET ECSTATIC THAT YOU ENJOYED MY TAKE ON IT KDNDKDNSKSNKDNDKSMSKSJSK AND YOUR THOUGHTS???? JUST ABSOLUTELY AMAZING AS ALWAYS???? YOUR BRAIN IS AMAZING ISTG I WAS DEAD AND IM JUST SO HAPPY YOU LIKED IT ><)

BABE. Babe <3 I'm so happy to hear you're writing things and it helps you with everyday life. Oh I'm just so, so happy for you. I've missed you as well and everyone else in the Tim Drake fandom, but the fact you're putting works out on Ao3?? You're writing wonderful things?? You're making people cry because you've pulled them out of themselves to feel things?? This is wonderful babe! This is the best news EVER! I'm so proud of you I can't even stand it. Writing is so hard and it can hurt so much to put things out there to people, and you are so, so brave and amazing to find your way. I'm thankful you've found the strength within yourself to do daring things.

Babe. Congratulation.

Send me links, I beg! I beg. I will read ALL THE THINGS AOB.

I still read the fuck out of fanfics but I've moved into BL (my fandom blog is a mess because I love too many of them) instead of DC, but releasing my fics back into the wild might have spurned something, might have brought back the muse a bit, so I might try to give it another go! I've got some very important chapters to things I promised people and maybe it's time I keep those promises. (Because @satire-please deserve a final ending to Dr!Tim).

I even went on the Capes and Coffee Discord just to talk out some ideas and that's a pretty big step to be honest.

But, even tho life is busy and you're moving into new, exciting things and people are rightfully in love with your fics and your brain, I will always have a spot for you here. You can always come back to me and read or talk out ideas or tell me how life is going. I adore you and hope only great things in your journey <3

(YOUR IDEAS ALWAYS INSPIRE I SWEAR I LOVE THEM ALL SO MUCH BECAUSE THIS THING WAS EASY TO WRITE AT THE TIME AND I STILL FEEL LIKE I COULD FLESH IT OUT MORE SOME DAY)

[depressopax]

Hii if its ok could I request some married life with Mike Ehrmantraut headcanons? Or like how he would go about proposing to (gender neutral) reader he’s been dating for awhile, I love all your work with Mike! 🩵

Thank you for the kind words and the request!! <3 It’s been a while since I wrote about Mike now, so I had fun writing this! :)  It’s a bit short thoo 😭 ALSO HIII FELLOW MIKE FAN  Hope you enjoy the fic!! <3

Pairing: Mike Ehrmantraut x gender-neutral reader Genre: Fluff, headcanons Warning(s): None (lmk if I should add any!) Words: 0.6k Summary: Married life with Mike would include... English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! <3 || AO3 link || Masterlist || Request ||

Proposal 💍

I think I said this in my relationship HC’s for Mike, but… He’s the king of slow burn romance lol

Not because he’s insecure in what he feels for you - he does love you more than anything

Rather because he’s scared. Scared to move too quickly, to scare you away, and simply because his work “doesn’t allow it”.

Fuck it, let’s say he somehow quits his job for Fring… Then…

He’d be very quick to put a ring on your finger.

He realizes that his criminal lifestyle is the reason as to why he’s been so scared of a bigger commitment.

But now there’s nothing holding him back.

He has money, so he makes sure to find the perfect proposal ring.

Finally deciding on one, he tries finding the right moment.

He cringes at cheesy couples etc, which is pretty double standard-ish, considering he’s one cheesy mf when it comes to you lol

He takes you out to a fancy restaurant and then goes for a walk in the dark

After building the perfect romantic tension, he surprises you by kneeling before you

When he show you the ring, you can only think one thing: “Finally.” 

He can barely ask before you answer. “Will you ma-” “YES!” “...Can I ask first, at least?”

The two of you couldn’t be more happy - finally being able to show love for each other without secrets.

Friends and family of you and Mike are the first ones to find out. 

…And you can’t stop flexing with the ring to every person you meet lol Mike will be like: “Stop bragging with the ring”, but secretly loves when you do

Wedding 💒

Half a year after the engagement, you decide it’s time for a wedding.

Mike is a simple man, for him, it would be enough with a church wedding, or even just in the city hall

But you had bigger plans

And who is he to disagree?

If you want a big white wedding - he’ll fix it. PERIOD. 

Seeing you all dressed in white/in a suit is enough to make his heart melt.

You marry each other surrounded by friends and family

With Kaylee being the flower girl 🥹 (Btw, her and Stacey both adores you and are relieved to see someone finally give Mike the happiness he deserves <3)

The ceremony is beautiful and afterwards you have after-wedding party

You even successfully force Mike to dance with you lol

Honeymoon 🏖

Mike takes you on a beautiful honeymoon.

He wanted it to be somewhere adventurous, but settled for a nice place.

Probably hiring the best room at some beach hotel

You spend an entire month celebrating your love together, going to spas, hiking and exploring the city and… Other things ;)

None of you want to go back home, but then again - you’re married now. So it feels ok.

Married life 💕

You live in Mike’s house, but he eventually suggests moving to a bigger place, in a more calm neighborhood - and closer to Stacey and Kaylee.

You buy a nice two-floor house together

Cheesy as Mike is with you, he def does the “carrying his s/o over the threshold to the house” thing 😌✨

The two of you probably get a dog or cat, depending on your preferences - screw it, maybe both!

You are happy to return from work everyday and have Mike waiting for you

He kinda become a “househusband” lol

I feel like he’s a clean freak, so he def gets these impulses to deep clean the house when you’re away at work - and that way he can distract himself from missing you too much

He also spoils you with gifts and dinner

Movie nights <3

Mike has had an intense, dangerous life but now finally can settle for peace and calm, together with the person he loves. 

He is so happy he met you and grateful he got the opportunity to love someone again.

Thanks for reading! Btw, I'm currently writing on my first ever chapter novel fanfiction! It's a Nacho spin-off and an La casa de papel & Better call Saul crossover! Would mean a lot if you giys wanna check it out an leave a like or comment! Thanks <3

Link:

[romaine2424]

Last Daily Blog September 19, 2023

Well, it was worth a try, but this didn't turn out like I hoped. For one, I couldn't keep up with a Daily blog or Weekly. My priority has always been on getting my writing done first, and since I've gone to a scheduled posting of once a week for my WIP, I haven't found the time. And since the goal of this was for more fandom interaction, I kind of failed there, too, so I lost the inclination.

I'm also going to stop posting my weekly WIP fic updates. My last post last Tuesday, and Reblog the next day got one Like. There could be a variety of reasons, but this is consistent. If I post a rec for someone else's fic or reblog something, I'll get a fair amount of Likes and Reblogs. If it is my own work....... So, since I have less than 200 followers, it's not a productive way to promote my own work. In other words, my fandom ego gets embarrassed. I do understand that I tend to write niche or on-the-edge Drarry fics. From politics to trans-female!Draco with Harry during the 2-year transition, and this one where we have bi-sexual!Harry (Draco's is in Azkaban for 30 years, and Harry has to marry to uphold the family bloodline). I get it. LOL

So, one last time: Chapter 15 of The Azkaban Letters is up. Next week Harry enters the Portrait Room to meet all of his ancestors.

Okay, enough about my personal issues. BTW I will continue reccing fics and watchout, @hd-fan-fair is coming up in October!

What I've Been Reading:

I'm thoroughly enjoying @oflights The Star Splitter. This is a Drarry Chapter fic that is updated regularly.

Summary:

On a routine time travel assignment to the past, Draco stumbles upon 7-year-old Harry Potter and witnesses his neglect and mistreatment by the Dursleys. In the moment, there is only one solution, even if it goes against all his training as a Time Agent: he has to bring Harry back to the future with him. In which Draco burns his life down for the sake of his former school rival.

@oflights is such an amazing plotter. Currently, there are seven chapters posted (34.5K), and Draco is in so much trouble that I haven't a clue how it can get resolved. It's truly delicious reading about Draco taking care of 7-year-old Harry but knowing he shouldn't be.

The Star Splitter on AO3

more recs and then fandom resources under the cut

@squintclover is a new author for me. She's got a very sweet 2 chapter fic going on where the first chapter has been posted. Twirling Cords (like in the muggle movies). I liked it so much that I perused her other fics posted and found this amazing gem. For anyone who loves Matilda and Ms Honey, Harry Potter; Miss Drew's Class; Y4 (2K) is a must read.

Summary:

A look at Harry Potter's life from the POV of his year 4 teacher, Miss Drew.

Snippit:

These are the last two lines of the opening scene:

We all go into teaching wanting to be Miss Honey. But none of us want to meet our Matilda.  Harry Potter is my Matilda. 

I don't tear up often, but in only 2K, I most certainly did.

Harry Potter; Miss Drew's Class; Y4 On AO3

Please give lots of love and comments to both fics!

Tumblr Resources:

How could I not do this section without mentioning thee amazing @sitp-recs. Reccer Extraordinaire! I'm guessing every one of my followers is a follower of Liv. Her pinned post is so nice and simple, but OMG there is so much under all of those links.

I was in complete awe this past Spring/Summer when she did the Rapid Fire Rec series. I mean come on, how did she do that? Someone gives her a prompt, and she turns around and gives 3 stories dealing with that prompt.

Liv doesn't do Fic Finds; she doesn't tolerate hate or neg comments. What she does is spread Drarry (fic and art) love in every way you can imagine. Tons of love and respect for @sitp-recs for all she does to keep Drarry and some of those rare pairs alive in hp fandom.

One last resource. I've had this on my list to post, but I couldn't track down the author. For those who write about Harry's childhood abuse, this is for you. If you know who compiled this list, please let me know, and I'll give the credit! It's well deserved.

HP Abuse

Okay, that's a wrap. It was fun!

As mentioned above, I'll still be doing recs and other commentary.

Cheers,

Rom

[salamandergoo]

any angsty stonacy fics you'd like to rec?

I’d be remiss to not link my own fic here lol. When You Go, Leave Me Alone was spurned on by the Stranger Things Writers’ Guild discord server and was initially going to be an adrenaline-fueled hookup at the end of the world that didn’t mean much to Nancy and Jonathan after the world didn’t end. The concept has changed a little as it has developed, I’m deep into chapter 2 now (but it’s looking like it’ll have 3 or 4 chapters by the time I’m done). It’s not endgame Stoncy, though. I won’t reveal who Steve ends up with, but that’s not super important yet.

This fic, They Don’t Talk After by @stevethehousewife, details a similar scenario, Steve, Jonathan, and Nancy hooking up after the various times they’ve all almost died, but with a much more hopeful ending. I’ve been reading through a bunch of their fics lately and really enjoying them btw.

complex by mgggsies on Ao3 is a non-linear fic that focuses on the highs and lows of the triad and takes equal time with each of them which I genuinely love. It has a hopeful ending and some bonus ronance!

i’m so good at telling lies. (that came from my mother’s side.) by ihaveforgottenn on Ao3 is a post-season 4 au fic that focuses on Jonathan and his trauma with his partners taking care of him. It explores the abuse he experienced at the hands of his father and the trauma from experiencing Horrors year after year.

Answering Your Call by @mrs-steve-harrington is an Omegaverse season 4-divergent fic where Jonathan and Nancy, bonded Alphas, follow Steve into the Upside Down after he dives through Watergate. Hurt/Comfort ensues. Listen I’m kind of obsessed with Steve getting hurt, particularly in seasons 3 and 4, I’m always going to be weak for anyone protecting and comforting him!!!

[harocat]

ao3 wrapped 2024 [writers edition]

How many words have you written this year? 55,308 published. God knows how many in WIPs.

How many works did you publish this year? 12 (+3 if you include that a couple of those are oneshot collections)

What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)? Maybe Little Black Rain Cloud for Oh No! Here Comes Trouble. A new fandom that was a bit outside my comfort zone, and I'm content with the results. Also Piece of the Dream for Till the End of the Moon and Don't Stop Me Now ('cause I'm having a good time) for Yuri on Ice. They were both for the Gotcha for Gaza events, and it was just really nice to be able to participate in something like that. Is that cheating for an answer? Oh well lol.

For the TTEOTM one, I like that I was able to work with a canon where the last part of it was overall unsatisfactory to me and instead of just going 'eh canon divergence' (which I've done multiple times before), try to use what exists create something I'm pleased with. I also like that I was able to give Sang Jiu a relevant role in it, because it annoyed me that Ming Ye was important in the last arc, but it was like she didn't even exist. For the second, it's just something I've thought about for a long time so it was nice to get a story about it written.

What work of yours has the most hits?: Every Story (is a love story) with 2,986 hits. Love Game in Eastern Fantasy fandom needed that reunion extension, and I ended up the first one to write it.

What work of yours got more feedback than you expected? See above. It hit at the exact right time. I wrote it the night after the finale aired, and I was the first fic posted in the fandom. I did expect people would be happy to read it, but I did not expect the link to get passed around that much. I do hope some of those people come back and check out other LGIEF fics I plan on writing/have written though. 😉

Favorite title you used Don't Stop Me Now ('cause I'm having a good time) for Yuri on Ice because it sounds so FUN (also Queen lyrics). It captures Yuuri as a skater to me so well. I also love Wonderful and Ordinary Moments for LGIEF, because it describes the exact vibe I want for post-canon Miaoqi (it's lyrics from Esther's Surge btw) and Piece of the Dream for Till the End of the Moon because it came to me before I even started writing. I love how it has multiple meanings (the literal dream arc, LSS's dream of bringing TTJ back, etc., the dragon scale, the world overturning jade, Zimi herself, Qingyu's dream, etc).

If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most? I used the following artists- Alan Menken and Matt Sullivan, Florence and the Machine, Squad Five 0, Queen, The Indigo Girls, Elton John and Tim Rice (Aida), Esther Yu, and uh... Winnie the Pooh technically (so, the Sherman Brothers). I didn't use anyone more than once.

Pairing you wrote the most for this year? Dongfang Qingcang/Xiao Lanhua ♥

Favorite pairing you wrote for this year? Canglan again, and it may very well be the same this year.

What work was the quickest to write? I feel like this is kind of hard to answer, because obviously it depends on length. There's a few I wrote in one night, so it would be those.

What work took you the longest to write? Like of course it's Desert Moon (Light the Way) for Love Between Fairy and Devil because it's by far the longest.

How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year? Nine that I am certain I want to finish. One continuing, eight new.

What’s your longest work of the year? Desert Moon (Light the Way) for LBFAD. It's 27k posted, many more in WIP.

What’s your shortest work of the year? This short MDZS Wangxian fic. It's 206 words.

What WIP are you taking into next year with you? Of posted fics?Desert Moon (Light the Way)

What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag? Romance. Literally everything I've written is tagged this.

Your favorite character to write this year? I looove writing DFQC and XLH. DFQC is especially delightful to write. He's such a weird little cutie pie. Ziqi is fun too because I am such a mush for writing characters who are brusque with insecure, soft centers. I loved writing the ONHCT trio as well. They are so funny.

The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year? To a degree, Victor Nikiforov. Obviously I've written him plenty of times before, but it has been a few years and I was just really worried about getting his voice right again. I felt okay with Yuuri, but very insecure about Victor at first. Also Ye Qingyu because I don't feel he has a very distinct voice so I was just kind of like 'uhhhhh'. I love him though.

What’s one pairing you want to explore next year? Dongfang Qincang/Xiao Lanhua and Ling Miaomiao/Ziqi.

Which work of yours have you reread the most? Uhhh not sure. Probably just the fluffier oneshots because they don't take long and can be a good mood pick me up.

How many kudos in total did you get this year? 1,130

Which work has the most comments? Desert Moon (Light the Way). It is a chapter fic though, and I've replied to comments. For oneshots that I have not yet replied to comments, by far and away Every Story (is a love story) for LGIEF.

Did you do any collaborative works this year? Desert Moon (Light the Way) is collaborative for @lbfad-minibang, with amazing art by @sir-raina-art

Did you write any gifts this year? Yes, so many for exchanges, gifts, and gotcha for Gaza events: Don't Stop me Now ('cause I'm having a good time) a (Yuri on Ice fic for @yuri-on-ice-action), Piece of the Dream (Till the End of the Moon for @cdrama-action), Shades of Pink and Red (Love Between Fairy and Devil for @honeysbunchesofoats), Cherry Lips (Till the End of the Moon for @hystericblue), I wish I could hate You (MDZS for @prolestari), Wait a minute, are you jealous? (TGCF for @abarero), Like a Kitten Kiss (Magia Record for @abarero), Love in Between (Samurai Flamenco for Yuletide), and Little Black Rain Cloud (Oh No! Here Comes Trouble for Yuletide).

Did you receive any gifts this year? LITERALLY SO MANY. laws of physics lose their way (for Oh No! Here Comes Trouble), 花好月圆 | Blooming Flowers and a Full Moon (for Love Between Fairy and Devil), i'm a fox and you're a burrow (for Mysterious Lotus Casebook), double trouble (for Love Between Fairy and Devil), drag you to the shore (for Mysterious Lotus Casebook), Renewal in Self-Destruction (for Till the End of the Moon), XLHxDFQC f/f 🔥🔥 (for Love Between Fairy and Devil- NSFW text), Paws for Thought (for MDZS), to finally begin (My Journey to You), Exceptions (Slayers). This does not touch on all the amazing fanart.

What’s your most common category? M/F lol

What do you listen to while writing? Depends on the fic! I have a playlist of figure skating music, which tends to be classical, movie scores, etc. that I use a lot. I also listen to a lot of very atmospheric music like Florence and the Machine, Loreena Mckennitt, etc.

Favorite work you wrote this year? I think Desert Moon (Light the Way) for LBFAD just because it's a chapter fic that means a lot to me. And it WILL be finished. So much more of it is already written.

Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?  

Probably this passage from when Dongfang Qingcang and Xiao Lanhua first see Silent Moon Palace again in Desert Moon:

They drove east, past the singing sands and through the craggy peaks that separated the rest of the desert from what used to be the capital of Cangyan Sea. They drove east, through what must have once been woods where widows wept and through a valley where, if you looked up, you could see what remained of what must have been the last version of Love Lock Bridge. They drove east, through ruins of the city they’d once known and loved, and then, on the horizon, there it was. It reigned high above the rest of the land; the towers and spires, the majestic spiral steps, the sheer scale of it. Untouched.  Xiao Lanhua stopped the motorcycle and took off her helmet and goggles, and Dongfang Qingcang did the same. She bowed her head. This moment felt almost like mourning. Mourning a friend, the world she’d known and come to love in her time with Dongfang Qingcang so long ago. The Cangyan Sea that had become her home; the days they spent in the market buying whatsoever the other desired; the mornings in the courtyards of Silent Moon Palace, watering her flowers. Sometimes Daqiang would lift her up onto his shoulders so she could trim the low hanging branches of the magnolia trees. There were so many ghosts visible. How many more lay beneath the sand?  She glanced over to him, out of the corner of her eyes. His head was bowed as well, and his hands were clasped around the strap of the helmet and goggles.  Xiao Lanhua lifted her head toward him. She gently placed her fingers under his chin and pushed it up, turning his face toward hers.  Anything they could say, they said in silence. Neither of them wept. This moment was not for them, but the memories that they’d never be able to relive—fleeting, ephemeral, and so long ago. Being an immortal meant comprehending the passage of time on a completely different scale than anyone else in the three realms, so how was it that against the passing of the eras, even they were powerless?  Silent Moon Palace gleamed in the distance, beautiful as ever but strange in this landscape, like a spirit that still haunted this land, an elder god ruling over a forgotten realm.  Xiao Lanhua felt his hand slip into hers, and he pulled her toward him in an embrace. Dongfang Qingcang buried his nose in her hair, taking in the feel of it and the smell of it. It may have been trite to say, being that she was the Xishan goddess, but she always smelled of life, of flowers, of a green spring day when everything has just started to bloom. Even now, over four shichen into a drive across the hot desert, he could still smell that on her. He grounded himself with it. This was real. This was not a memory, not a dream. This was not a ruin or a legend or a ghost.  Xiao Lanhua was here; she was rubbing his back, and he could feel her breath against the hollow of his neck, and she was not going anywhere.  “Let’s go, Xiao Lanhua,” he near whispered. “Our home awaits us.” 

This is also the scene that Raina drew!

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year?  That I was able to write SO MANY different fandoms (literally nine fandoms wtf). I've always been a very one fandom at a time girlie.

Some of these questions I'd already answered, so I just copy pasted those answers. lol.

[pumpkinstrawbrew]

I'M DONE

I have spent the last three hours looking for fanfiction on Scarebat that wasn't Nolanverse or Suckerpunch (I love it btw, it's so good, checking everyday for updates🙏🙏)

I didn't only look on Ao3 as you might think, I have looked on Tumblr, Wattpad, Fanfiction.net, Quotev, Deviantart, FUCKING FICWAD, and some others...😔😔 I BARELY MANAGED TO FIND SOME SCRAPS OF CONTENT ON ONLY A FEW OF THEM AND THERE WERE LIKE 3-4 FICS IN TOTAL, MAYBE LESS, DON'T REMEMBER EXACTLY

I need to write my own atp but I'm only half-decent at writing (planning to start practicing writing on Tumblr in the future) and I suck at writing two canon characters interacting with each other.... I would be unstoppable if I had the ability to do so

sorry for ranting in your asks, forgive me, but I think you're the only person who can understand this

-🐓

honestly, it’s kinda odd how over so many years, scarebat barely made rounds on the internet. despite how their whole personas an’ things that surround them as characters make a perfect set-up for a gothic romance. yet, somehow it keeps getting overlooked. batman’s most ideally tailored fuel just never gets enough fanon attention. 

an’ like, i wish that i could somehow share with you a link to some alt dimension, where scarebat was given all the attention it deserved. but as it is, we only have like yeah 3 fics an’ prob the same amount of arts. 

on the one hand, it does suck. i admit. but on other, it leaves a way larger fields to explore. way more opportunities to do smth new an’ different with those characters. i’d also go as far as to state, that when a ship is rare, it has a chance to stay somewhat true to source material or have more of different an’ individual approaches. when a ship is super popular, it’s usually slowly, but surely gets flanderized into the ground. after certain point all that you would see is a low-key copypasta of a fic, that you’ve already read about that pair, but from a different author. i had a couple of popular ships back in the day, an’ it had happened with every single one of them. 

so, in a way, i’m glad that those few scarebat fics are all at least different enough, even if i do say, that i kinda felt down by how it was labeled scarebat with it often being barely about the ship. or it was coming off as one-sided. different strokes for different folks, but it’s part of why i sat down an’ began writing my own fic, that would satisfy my own needs an’ my own vision. i just wanted scarebat romance times with some grittiness in between. which is why i do think, that you really should try to write your own story for them too! or even drabbles. anything that might tailor their dynamic in a way you see it. 

an', well, i do get the anxiety of not ‘being good enough’, or feeling insecure about how well you would be able to capture the ‘canon’ feel. or say, just generally thinking like your skill is not on the level you wish it was. i won’t bore you with details about my own uh, writing / art journey. but i will say, that due to a few reasons of my own, i also felt like i could never write an english fic *i'm a non-english speaker*, an’ even more so, i honestly thought that i could never ever draw anything, bc i simply had no idea how to draw at all. but i do kinda know how to draw now lol. an’ i can actually write things in english too. an’ the point of it not me being super good at it or even reaching some unknown highm no. the point is that i can do it an’ i can do it in my own ways. i can create smth, that prob would have never existed otherwise, an’ in the end of the day, it’s pretty cool. quality can be not top notch, but it's like...hey, it exists now. i've given smth back to my otp, that makes me happy an' have fun.

so as someone who was where you are, when it comes to feeling like you can’t do those things, i’d say, you sure can! anyone can! it might take some lil practice an’ a bit of ‘hmm, not what i wanted exactly, but close’, until you get to the level you might have wanted, but i promise, you'd be amazed at what you can truly do, once you get on 'wave'. it won’t be instant leap, but as someone who dealt *still does to a degree* with what i call ‘toxic perfectionism’, i’d say that you just let things go at their own pace. just have fun with the process. in the end, fan stuff should be existing for your own pleasure an' perhaps, it can also be this for some other people, which is always nice. you don't have to be 'professional' about it, if you don't want to.

either way, i’m fine with rants! i mean, i've just ranted back as well lol. i know, that the main theme of this message was being kinda well, dissapointed with lack of content, but i do think, that it's not all that gloom an' doom in the end of the day. it can't be helped, that we sometimes have to basically provide for ourselves in fandoms, but it also gives us chance to 'shine' too, i think.

an’ i also wanted to say, that i’m glad you liked my fic! suckerpunch is one of those works, that i’ve started on impulse an’ till 3th chapter actually had a very vague idea, where to take afterwards, but i was surprised to see way more people interested in this ship, than i thought. so really, for a rare ship, scarebat actually does have at least some audience. an’ that audience is pretty rad an’ cool one too, so it’s not all that bad!

i do get the pain tho. sometimes, i also wanna read an' look at arts of my otps, that aren't mine. but perhaps, with time scarebat will gain more active fans. maybe, one day, we will click on ao3 an' feel like we had walked into a candy store.

[rock-n-onyx]

After a long while of writing, I am finally ready to release my newest fic! @silvercaptain24 I think I might be joining that little group you have going on that constantly hurts wars lol

Anyways! Tw: Child Abuse

I also need some help coming up with tags for Ao3 cause I suck at tagging btw

Damnit. There weren’t supposed to be this many monsters. Where in the name of Hylia did they come from? Warriors swung his sword and danced around the bokoblin he was fighting. More monsters were seemingly appearing out of nowhere and it was starting to tire everyone out. This was just supposed to be a simple mission with only a few infected monsters to kill! It was near his home village, and he couldn’t exactly say no to protecting it.

Finally, though, it looked like the crowd was thinning again. He could actually see his comrades now through the horde. And now he could also see the main source of their problems. A wizzrobe with a bird-like beak sat in the center, occasionally waving its wand around and summoning more monsters. Bingo.

“Wild!” He yelled at the top of his lungs, “That wizzrobe! Shoot him down!” An arrow went whizzing by and embedded itself into a monster right next to it.

“I can’t get a clear shot!” He heard Wild faintly shout back over all the yelling and clash of blades. He cursed under his breath. He started to fight his way towards the wizzrobe, hoping to thin the gaggle of monsters hanging around there.

He fought through and was about to engage with another enemy when a yell ripped through the clearing, “WARS, WATCH OUT!”. He spun around, just in time for a blast from the wizzrobes wand to hit him dead center in his chest. The force was enough to knock him over and he lay on the ground gasping as the air in his lungs left him empty inside.

He thought he heard someone shout to cover him but he couldn’t quite discern who said it through the thick fog coating his mind. His thoughts became muddled and he groaned and sat up, holding his head. What- what was going on? Where was he? He- he couldn’t remember. The fog settled into place, dulling his memory and making his flight-or-fight reflex kick into overdrive.

Fighting. It sounded like there was fighting. He snapped his head up, eyes blown wide and breath quickening as he took in his surroundings. People, there were strange people he didn’t know, calling out at him. Warriors, they were calling him Warriors, why? That wasn’t his name. His name was Link, and these strange, armored, and armed people were standing very close. Too close. He crawled backward quickly, never taking his eyes off of them.

They looked surprised and confused, as if they weren’t expecting a reaction like that. One of them, a brown haired kid with simple clothes, reached out for him, “Wars? It’s okay, it’s just us.” He faltered when he saw how scared Link looked, “Warriors?”

Link stood up, slowly backing away and the eight strangers looked at him worriedly. The eldest, the one with the scar over his eye, held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Link? That’s your name, yeah? It’s alright.” Link looked at him confusedly, how did this man know his name? His eyes darted as he saw one of the men reaching for something. His heart leaped out of his chest as he turned tail and ran into the forest, not caring of the shouts behind him telling him to stay.

His mind was racing. What was going on? He leaped over a tree root, as he heard the footsteps behind him getting fainter. Good, he was losing them. Then he heard another pair of footsteps catching up and he spared a look over his shoulder. It was that brown-haired kid again, and he looked like he had no trouble maneuvering through the forest like him.

He took a sharp left, hoping to throw him off his trail, but he kept right on after him like a hound chasing down the terrified rabbit. Eventually they reached another clearing, and at this point had thoroughly lost the other seven, so only he and the kid remained. He spun around and put his fists up into a fighting stance. The kid looked weak enough, he could probably take him in a fight.

He obviously wasn't expecting such a sudden stop as he skidded to a standstill a bit aways. He put his hands up in a surrender, “Hey, hey, hey, I’m not looking for a fight!”

“Then why’d ya chase me through the woods, then?” He snarled, not lowering his guard at all. The kid seemed at a loss for words, and he took a step forward threateningly. The kid didn’t back down and slowly raised his hands into a guard. Good, seems the kid gets that he won’t be going down without a fight.

He didn’t want to let him get the first punch in, so he swung his fist first, and it connected solidly with his nose. The kid’s hand flew up to grab at it, and he kicked him in the side, knocking him down to the ground. He heard the sound of the others approaching and took that as his sign to flee.

He disappeared into the forest before they could catch sight of him and he grinned. Now, he really should be getting home, although… did he really have to go back right now? Maybe he’ll get lucky and he won’t be home yet. He slowed down to a walk as he entered the village again. He got some weird stares, but he ignored them. He was used to people looking at him strangely. After all, blonds aren’t exactly common around here.

The village looked a bit different than how he remembered it, but he chalked it up to his foggy memory messing with him. He turned onto the small side street that his father lived on. The lights weren’t on, good, maybe that means he wasn’t home yet and he could get to his room before he noticed. That plan was soon thrown out the window however when he smelled the heavy stench of alcohol.

Great, his father is home and he’s been drinking. Maybe he should just go. Usually it wasn’t worth it trying to get back into the house when his father was drunk. The door swung open with a loud bang, and out came his father, a booze bottle still in his hand and leaning on the doorway for support. Link flinched backwards as his heart crept up into his throat.

“You pest, what the hell do ya think you’re doing back here?! Did I ever say ya could show yer face around here again?” His father shouted at him, and Link stayed rooted in place, terror making his veins turn to ice. His father grumbled and turned back into the house, exiting with a thick leather belt.

That made him take a step back, breath caught in his throat as he approached, hand holding the belt high. “Well? Ain’t ya gonna say anything? Or are ya too much of a coward, like you always have been?” His eyes were wild, crazed, and he looked murderous. Link stumbled backwards, tripping over a loose rock and falling down onto his rear.

He looked up in terror, arms held up to protect his face as the belt came striking down. It lashed his arms and if not for the bracers he wore, would have left bloody scratches. As it were, it stung like hell and he winced and prepared for another blow as his father went to strike him again.

“Excuse me sir, what in the name of Hylia do you think you are doing?” A cold, steely voice came from behind him and he flinched, covering his head and pulling his legs up to his chest. His heart hammered in his chest and in the resulting silence that followed he feared it would be heard.

“What the hell do you think I’m doing? I’m teaching the brat a lesson, now scram! This ain’t for you to step into stranger.” His father’s voice was eerily calm, but he could see the simmering rage underneath it. He didn’t dare look up when he heard no movement from behind him. For a moment he thought he might have left, but then a heavy hand settled on his shoulder and he flinched horribly, curling into a tight ball.

The hand immediately left him, and he heard the two men arguing but he couldn’t hear them over the pounding of heart and the ringing in his ears. Breathing was becoming difficult as the world around him was muffled through a thick layer of static. A hand on his shoulder again, light and the touch careful. He barely registered it and the voice murmuring garbled nonsense to him.

A hand gently pried his hand away from where it was tugging viciously at his hair, instead settling it onto his chest. He felt the deep breaths and subconsciously tried to mimic it. Eventually breathing became easier and he could feel the world around him again.

“Hey, you back with me Link?” He flinched when he heard the voice, but recognition soon followed and he sobbed.

“..Time..?” His voice was wavering and soft, but he was pulled close and wrapped in a loose hug. He breathed in the slight mossy scent and buried his face into his chest. “Tell Roolie.. that I’m sorry..”

He heard time chuckle, “Well, you can tell him yourself. Let’s go home okay?” Warriors took one last look at his ‘home’. No, that wasn’t home, not anymore. Home meant friends, and banter, and camping under the stars. Home was with his family, the family he made. With the help of Time, Wars stood up again. And he never looked back.