#this felt too short to go on ao3 so uh. here's a drabble!

[corishadowfang]

            One of the Foretellers had come for Mary’s daughter, today.

            It wasn’t often that they did; most children were sent off to Daybreak Town on the promise of sending money back to their family, or of getting a better future, or because the village had no magic users to protect them and they needed someone.  There were no big ceremonies or flashy goodbyes; there were small farewell parties, sometimes, or tiny little familial blessings, asking that Light may guide them safely and Darkness hide them from all that would do harm.  But a Foreteller had come, for Elaine, for Mary’s little girl, and the town had scrambled to put something together.

            It was—an honor, really.  Mary knew this.  It was why she’d set the table with the finest dinnerware they owned—an old set, heirlooms, from a time when there had been less strife—and asked her mother to help her prepare a large dinner, and had wrung her hands as she’d tried to stay polite and proud and keep her wringing hands underneath the table.

            Master Ava had been a polite and accommodating guest.  Mary had thought, at first, that she’d seemed almost awkward at the attention—but that seemed an absurd thought, when Master Ava was a Foreteller.  Everyone had heard the stories—of the heroes who had risen from a town on the edge of daybreak, wielding weapons borne of themselves and slaying the monsters that had so long seemed impossible to defeat.  She was more than human; how could Mary expect her to feel something so normal as uncertainty?             (She’s young, some part of her whispered—some part of her that could not quite stay quiet—and she did her best to hush the thought.  It was dangerous; she could not afford to think it.)

            “I’ve heard that you’re interested in magic,” Master Ava said, turning her focus mostly to Elaine.

            Mary’s skin prickled, and across the table, her mother shifted, like she wished to interject but thought better of it.

            Elaine either didn’t notice or didn’t care; she beamed, eyes brightening as she said, “Yeah!  I’ve been studying.  Mister Gavin says he thinks I might replace him one day.”

            Mary squeezed her eyes shut.  They are not taking our only mage, she thought, and it was close enough to the truth that she didn’t have to think about the consequences.  Gavin was old, but alive; they would not be left defenseless if Elaine became a wielder.  If anything, this was a better opportunity for her; she would go and train with some of the best mages in the world, and then she could bring back her knowledge here, to fend against the shades that encroached on their borders.

            (Elaine was still losing her baby teeth; Mary could hear the lisp.  She tried not to think about that, too.)

            “That’s good; I’m glad to hear it.”

            “Keyblade wielders are good at magic, right?”

            Mary could not see Master Ava’s face, and it chafed.  “Some of us are.”

            That was a lie; all of them were, compared to the average person.  Most mages trained for years, and even then, they might only be average at best; a newly-fledged wielder could use magic on par with the best almost instantly.  ‘Some’ was only relevant in comparison to other wielders.

            “So if I go with you, I could get better?”

            “Yes.  Good enough to keep your whole village safe.”

            (“You heard about Marty’s kid, didn’t you?”

            Mary hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but she’d stalled, hesitating just out of sight as she’d come to collect Elaine from Gavin’s shop.

            Gavin’s expression had hardened, and he hadn’t said anything.

            “Went off to Daybreak Town—that’s what he said.  Got letters for a while, and then things slowly just…stopped.  They haven’t heard from him since.”

            “I think,” Gavin had said, glancing back toward the shop—toward Elaine, who was still studying inside, “that you’d best stop spreading rumors.  All you’re going to do is scare people.”)

            It was a given, that Elaine would go; Mary couldn’t reasonably deny a Foreteller (even if Elaine was a child, even if they needed as many mages as they could get, even if things were dangerous), and Elaine was too excited to even consider turning down the invitation.  But still, a pit opened in Mary’s stomach as she knelt in front of her daughter, tangling a stained glass pendant around her neck.  It was one they’d made together, and Mary was only willing to part with it because she hoped it would grant her daughter some sort of protection.  “May Light’s blessings fall on you,” she said, because if she said anything less formal, she might sweep her daughter back into her room and refuse to let her go—even at the demands of a Foreteller.  “May Darkness guard you from the eyes of all who would seek to do you harm.”

            And may the Great Heart welcome you, should you find yourself in need of rest.

            She couldn’t bring herself to say the last part.

            Elaine’s nose scrunched, like she thought it was funny that her mother was saying such things, but Master Ava’s hand landed on Elaine’s shoulder and tightened, and Mary, strangely, got the impression that she understood.  “I’ll take care of her,” she promised.

            Mary didn’t know if it was true.  She didn’t think it mattered.  In the end, she still had to watch her daughter walk down the road, bouncing excitedly as she chattered to a stranger in elaborate robes.

            “It’ll be alright,” her own mother said, even if she didn’t entirely sound like she believed it.  “The Foretellers are blessed; they’ll protect them.”

            (They did not hear from Elaine again.)

[xhollowfaerie]

Vergüenza

(I was honestly surprised I haven't seen more people write this? I'm also kinda shy about posting this... Praying to Andraste that nobody who knows me irl other than my partner ever finds this. Yes I swear I am trying to piece all my Lucanis drabbles together somehow and post them on ao3 very soon!! Is this too niche or ooc? Idk. This actually started from the idea of Spite basically lowkey stalking? Rook and seeing Taash hit on her, then running to tell Lucanis, but it uh, turned into this instead. Oops. And no, he hasn't told him yet. )

Tags: nsfw, masturbation (not very graphic though), demi4demi inexperienced Rookanis, Lucanis is down horrendous

-

Spite scared the daylight out of the Crow when he snuck up on him.

"Lucanis! Bad news. Spite must tell you! Was following Rook, and-"

“Mierda, this is what you've been doing, when you finally give me some peace? You… you follow her around, like a dog?”

Spite bared his teeth. “Not like you? Think you’re so much better. Always pouting. Missing her. Like a dog. Like a sad. Puppy.”

Lucanis didn't dignify him with a witty retort, and instead kept prodding.

“So you watch her? All day?”

“And night! Watch Rook. Beautiful. Peaceful. So soft. Smells. So good. I want to touch her. Lucanis. You want. To. Touch her!”

“Oye, what am I going to do with you… wait- you- you watched her sleep? Are you insane?”

He nodded happily. “I see more of Rook. More than Lucanis. Her body. Plump, delicious. I want to taste it.”

Lucanis's face flared. He held a hand in front of himself to discourage Spite from talking, and he could hear chatter behind the pantry door. He felt his digits start trembling, his ears considerably reddening. He had to find a way to shut him up before the things he said completely demolished his composure.

“Please, Spite, for the love of all that’s-”

That was not enough to deter a demon of Determination. Of Passion.

“Her curvesss. Will feel so good in our hands, Lucanis. Her thighs. Thick. Warm. Wrapped around usss. Taking us.  All of us. Deeper.”

“No, no, no, no, no, we've talked about this-”

“Feel her, Lucanis! Taste her! Make her cry for us. Why do you deny us?! Nnnrgh, I WANT ROOK!”

He made the Crow see what he saw, a blissfully disheveled Kore, resting on the couch in her room. Her legs were turned towards the edge of the couch, left folded to tuck her foot behind the groove of her right knee, back resting against the plush fabric. One arm was draped across her midsection, while the other served as a pillow for her head. She slept so soundly, it was hard to even make out if she was breathing from afar, but, of course, Spite had inspected her… intimately. Her pale pink chemise, too short to cover her ample curves, stretched deliciously over the fullness of her chest, revealing more than enough to make Lucanis plant his trembling hands onto the stone wall as he felt his knees grow weak, breathing heavily.

“Sangre del Hacedor” he mouthed with a wince as he became painfully aware of the restraint of his pants. His forehead joined the cold surface, in hopes to offer some relief to the blazing sensation across his cheeks, neck and ears, squeezing his eyes shut. He had to get that image out of his head, or he would lose what little sanity he had left.

Lucanis, he heard her voice dance within his thoughts, enunciating his name with her irresistible accent, prompting him to whimper helplessly.

“No, I can’t, Rook. You are too precious, too special. I can’t- This is- deplorable, I’m-” “Hard” Spite teased, letting out a snicker.

“Lucanis! So hard. For Rook. Again.”

His dexterous hands had lost any deftness as they cupped his face in shame. He took a deep, wavering breath into his lungs.

You’re my favourite Crow.

Dark, complex and intriguing.

I’m still here.

Her words haunted him. The pathetically shaky breath that left his lips announced his resignation as he, for the… oh, he had lost count, reached towards the lower half of his abdomen. It was too much. The pain, the throbbing sensation, the heat. He couldn’t think. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to focus for days, like he did at first, until he finally caved and began searching for any semblance of relief.

Spite cackled gleefully.

“Again! Again, Lucanis! How many times? Eight? Nine? Ten?”

He tried his best to ignore Spite, focusing on his memories of Rook, of her loving smile, her kind eyes, the addictive shape of her waist, the sensation of her fingertips on his skin, the arch of her cupid’s bow, her inviting lips, her beautiful, glittering makeup, always so perfectly put together, the elegance with which her hips swayed when she was around him… Her gentle, comforting voice, her brilliance, her impressive knowledge of magic, of cultures and languages and history, the ease with which she relaxed around him, around Spite. The way she handled Spite, so naturally. The jokes. The flirting. The protectiveness she displayed, for both of them. The care she bestowed onto him, that gentle, fragile moment when they’d almost kissed. The attention she gave him. The way she asked if he had managed to sleep. The way she inched towards him, always getting closer. The way she blushed when he rarely dared to court her, her surprise, her bashful giggles when Spite would speak their thoughts about her out loud. Her intoxicating, sweet scent. How she fought tooth and nail for what was right. Her honeyed laugh. Her tears, bouncing like pearls off the bewitching roundness of her cheeks.

The way she made him coffee.

“Want to? Grab her hair. Make her squeal. Slide inside, feel her tighten. All of her. Yours. Ours. All to ourselves.”

“Fuck” he rasped under his breath, closing his eyes in an attempt to avoid fully acknowledging what he was doing. He thought of the time he caught her in his arms mid battle, feeling her land on his chest, pressing her softness into him, feeling the weight of her on top. His pace quickened, remembering that split second that he dared to look into her eyes, the firm grip he had on her hip, the way his fingers perfectly followed the curve of her lower back, the gaze of a starving siren staring back at him as her eyes seemed to devour him alive.

“Never been inside. Before. But you want to. So desperate. To fill her. Claim her. Please her.”

He denied it for so long. He loved her too much. Much too much. But that look, and so many other fugitive glances.

He couldn’t believe, or, maybe he didn’t want to. Maybe it was easier to distance himself that way. He just couldn’t fathom.

That…

neediness in her eyes. 

It drove him crazy. Made him feral. It pushed him to the brink of-

“Kore” he shuddered, his voice pitching as he buried his face into his arm, a sad attempt at muffling the grunting and panting as he tried to catch his breath. A shiver echoed through him.

Spite was gone again. For now. Of course, he got what he wanted. Pulling on his strings until he snapped. Making sure to embarrass and humiliate him as much as humanly - demonically possible.

Maldito. 

Leaving Lucanis in an incriminating setting of his own sweat and… Ugh. Now he had to clean up.

So pathetic… I need to stay away from her. I have to. I don’t know what I’ll do when I can’t hold back anymore.

A Crow’s training tested every limit, heightened every endurance. And yet. The one weakness he had, the most vulnerable spot, he could have never trained out of himself. It etched itself too deep within his very essence. A beautiful, pink rose, cradling a single black feather. It was Rook. His Achilles’ heel.

[nonbinarycharmybee]

Sonic: Ours

This is just a short drabble based on an au that I don't plan on writing an actual fic for (which is why it's here and not ao3 lol). I might write some more for this universe (I have. Ideas.) but they won't be in chronological order and will likely jump around randomly. For context, it's basically "bokurano but with sonic characters" so if you're lost just read the second paragraph of this wikipedia page and fill in the blanks ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

cw: major character death ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s raining when Tails opens the front door, stomping a little too loudly down the hall and into the kitchen. 

“Tails?” Vanilla calls from the living room, looking up from her tea in concern. “Is everything alright?”

He freezes, hand on the refrigerator door. “Uh. Yeah.” There’s a photo of Cream and Vanilla magneted to the fridge, professional and staged, but Cream has her arms wrapped around her mother’s neck and they’re both smiling widely enough that Tails can still feel the wisps of adoration seeping through. 

He swallows. “Sorry.” Then, keeping his head down, he runs off to his room. 

It’s not actually his room, per se - that still exists back at his house, which also still exists, he’s just too much of a coward to go back. Back to where there were probably still blue quills stuck in the couch and leftover chili dogs in the fridge and the hammock chair in the workshop that he always fell asleep on even with the noisy machines and - and - .

He doesn’t want to think about it. 

 Vanilla had offered, sympathetically, to let him stay in their guest room “for as long as he needed”. It's a pretty old-fashioned room, with floral wallpaper and a four-poster bed that looked like it had been made fifty years ago. He feels a little bad now about leaving all his toys scattered everywhere. 

He picks up a socket wrench. If he's…if he is leaving soon, he should clean up. He’d never been very organized - his toys always scattered about, never lined up on shelves, but he always knew where everything was. “Organized chaos,” …he had jokingly called it once. But it’d be awfully rude, to say the least, to make Cream and Vanilla deal with his mess afterwards. 

He sits down on the floor, back against the wall, staring at the small pink rosettes on the opposite wall and tracing the outline of the wrench with his finger. 

There’s a knock at the door. Cream opens it slightly, peeking through the crack. 

“Hey,” he says quietly. She takes the invitation to come in. 

“...You got it, didn’t you,” she says softly. It’s not even a question. Tails just looks up. She stares at the grayish-blue pattern on his fur, creeping up his neck to the side of his face, the same one he saw in the reflection of a store window just hours ago. 

“How…how long do you think we have?” She presses her lips together, uncertain. “The last fight was only a few days ago….”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. He’d tried running down equations, see if he could find a pattern or prediction to when said fights would appear, but they were just random. 

Cream sits down next to him, crossing her legs. “Sorry….”

Tails shakes his head. “It’s fine. I mean, it was bound to happen eventually, right?”

A few moments of silence pass before he hears a sniff. Then another. Then Cream has her hands pressed up against her eyelids, desperately trying to suppress a sob. 

“Oh- hey, it’s okay!” Tails closes the gap between them and hugs her with one arm. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay. I promise.” Then he feels bad, because Cream is in the contract too, so said promise is obviously a lie. 

She sniffles again. “You should…be the one crying….”

“Yeah,” Tails looks away. In truth, he hadn’t felt like crying since this whole thing started. It all felt a little fuzzy, a little too unreal to comprehend. The logical part of his brain said it was mild dissociation as a coping technique. The emotional part of his brain told the former to shut up. 

“Tails? Cream?” Vanilla knocks on the door. “Dinner’s ready.”

Tails’ eyes widen. He doesn’t know how to explain why it looks like he painted his fur, and why it won’t wash off. 

Cream scrambles up, quickly scrubbing any semblance of tears away from her face. “Tails isn’t feeling good, Mother,” she says quickly. 

“Ah.” Vanilla purses her lips, hesitantly, like she wants to say something but doesn’t want to overstep a fragile boundary. “Well, I’ll put your plate in the fridge, dear. You can come down to eat any time you like.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles. Right now, hunger is the last thing he’s feeling. He wonders, idly, if it would be possible to die of starvation beforehand, or if this mark has granted him temporary immortality. 

It’s not like he’d lose anything if he tested that hypothesis out. 

But, then the mark would just go to someone else, and the cycle would just start over again. As long as he’s still here, he needs to spend as much time as possible finding a real solution. 

He picks up the gem on the vanity that he’d been using as a work desk, an oddity amongst the carpenter’s pencils and loose screws, and turns it over with his hands.The large emerald had been a brilliant dark blue once, the color of the ocean on a summer day, but now it’s gray and dull and lifeless. 

He knows the emerald is connected to this, he just can’t figure out how. Every single test, every sample and analysis concludes that it’s just a plain rock now. If he had a working emerald, maybe he could make quicker progress, but he doesn’t know where or how or even if he can find one. 

He spends the whole night at the vanity, adjusting and reprogramming scanners, desperately trying to find a wavelength that would reveal something useful. Vanilla brings a plate of waffles up to him in the morning, which makes him feel a little guilty, so after taking a few bites (he’s still not hungry) he decides to at least push his toys into piles to make sorting through them a bit easier. He doesn’t know who would take his personally monogrammed screwdriver, but he hopes it goes to a good home. It’s been through a lot, ever since he’d given it to Tails their first Christmas together. It deserves it. 

He doesn’t know whether it’s a blessing or a curse that he feels a familiar buzzing sensation overtake his body a few days later, like he’d simultaneously been dunked in ice water and injected with a thousand grams of caffeine right into his bloodstream. It’s supposed to be a protective technique, a high-end anaesthetic so their brains won’t overload from the pain of having every single atom of their body split apart and drop dead as soon as they reformed inside the control room. He drops his pencil as his hands phase and glitch like a faulty video game. Looks like he won't solve this equation after all, he thinks.

If only he could have had a little more time. 

He sits down on a perfect imitation of his black rolling chair in his workshop, right down to the scuff marks on its wheels, and glances around. Cream is practically sinking into her large armchair, the same chair she avoided back home. Silver is floating listlessly above his beanbag, while Amy picks at the hem of her dress on a cute white kitchen chair. Vector is apathetically rolling back and forth on a cheap office chair while Espio stares blankly down at his tatami mat - they hadn’t been the same since the third member of their little trio had been chosen. 

Shadow is leaning against the far wall, away from everybody. He won’t go near his seat (a plain metal folding chair, of all things) until the fight has begun.

Tails’ eyes skip over the ornate throne, the chunk of stone steps with creeping vines, the…the hammock chair in his workshop that he’d always fall asleep on even with the noisy machines. 

Omochao materializes next to him. “Are you ready?” he asks cheerfully.

He’s not. 

“Yes,” he nods. “Let’s do this.”

[rayquazing]

Under the Table 

Ao3 Link: x

An N*FW levihan drabble 

N*FW under the cut (obvs)

- 

Levi was preparing for his upcoming meeting with Commander Erwin. It was to be a short but cumulative discussion on Eren’s progress, both in his titan training and in his training as a scout. 

The Captain had collected the relevant files and righted his cravat. A cup of steaming tea was grasped between the fingers of his left hand, which he sat neatly on his desk (on a coaster of course) before he rounded the piece of furniture and pulled back his chair, sitting promptly and without bothering to glance down. 

There came a soft chuckle, and a tickle up the back of his calf. He jumped slightly in his seat, pushing his files forward across the desk and nearly spilling his tea. He glanced down, incensed at whatever prank the cadets thought they were pulling...

Hange was under his desk. 

Hange was under his desk.

She was kneeling, patiently, a glimmer in her wine-colored eyes, a knowing smirk on her face. She pushed her glasses up her nose and they caught distractingly in the light which filtered through the window. 

Hange was under his desk and her hands were running up this thighs, up to his hips then back towards his—

“I don’t have time for this,” Levi hissed, eyes darting between Hange and the door. “I have a meeting with Erwin. He’ll be here any minute now, you can’t… fuck.” 

Hange squeezed his shaft through the front of his breeches. Lips brushing over the clothed head. 

“It sure doesn’t seem like you want me to leave,” Hange grinned up at him then winked. 

“Hange I’m serious, we can’t—

There was a knock on the door, followed by a muffled, low, “Levi?” 

“Fuck. Fine. Just don’t do anything stupid, alright? Just stay put.” 

Hange laid another kiss against the front of his pants, eyes sparkling with mischief, “I promise.” 

“Come in!” Levi called and at the same moment he thought; I’m screwed. 

Erwin stepped through the door, shutting it gently behind him. In his hand was grasped a small notebook, clearly anticipating a routine report from his trusted Captain. 

“Commander,” Levi inclined his head towards the tea as the older man sat across from him. “Tea?” 

At that exact moment Hange unzipped his fly, mouthing his cock over his briefs. He glanced down with a scolding look onto to find her gazing up at him hungrily from beneath her lashes. His cock twitched. 

“No thank you,” Erwin crossed his legs. “So, let’s get down to it. How is Eren performing in Hange’s experiments?” 

Levi gave a hard swallow, trying his damndest to ignore Hange as she fished his hard cock out of his briefs. She gave it a few careful strokes, thumb pushing back his foreskin to fully expose the head. 

Levi ground his teeth, but remained professional, “We’ve had middling results. It seems he can only transform so many times within a certain time period, otherwise his titan is deformed.” 

Hange blew on the head of his dick and Levi nearly bit his tongue. Then she lapped at his slit, swiping up the precum that had beaded there. Her hand kept working on his shaft, agonizingly slow. 

Levi felt a flush rising up his neck. 

“Deformed how?” Erwin was looking down, taking notes for a moment. 

“Um…” Levi disguised a pleasurable grunt as a cough, “Last time the lower half of the body was emaciated. Just skin and bones, no muscle. And Eren’s ass was hanging out the back.” 

“I see,” Erwin jotted something down then glanced up. Hange popped the head of his cock into her mouth and began to suckle on it delicately, tongue swirling around his glans. “What does Hange have to say about this?” 

If only he knew that the Section Commander was right there, under his desk with his cock in her mouth. 

Levi’s nostrils flared and he shifted slightly, leaning forward as naturally as he could manage. He dropped a hand to his thigh while Hange sucked. Slowly, he slid it forward past her face, towards the back of her head. 

“She isn’t quite sure what to think. She’s slowly been shifting her focus towards Eren’s hardening abilities.” 

“In hopes of sealing the hole in Wall Maria?” 

Levi let out a shuddering breath as Hange’s tongue traced along a throbbing vein in his shaft. His fingers laced gently into her hair, encouraging her to take more of his dick into her sucking mouth. 

“I… ehem, I believe so, yes.” 

“Are you alright, Captain?” Erwin quizzed, thick eyebrow cocked curiously. “You’ve gone quite red since I arrived.” 

“Mmmyes,” Levi groused. He pushed Hange more insistently, easing her over his throbbing dick until her nose nestled into the downy hairs at his base. He touched the back of her throat and she was unable to contain a small gagging sound, which Levi covered by scooting his chair forward. 

“I’m fine,” Levi said. “Just a little hot in here is all.” 

Erwin gave him a skeptical look, “...alright. Just take the rest of the day off after this. I don’t need my Captain to come up sick.” 

“Yessir,” Hange’s tongue swirled around his cock as it rested in her mouth. She was warming it for him now, unable to bob with his hand in her hair. He gave a squeeze at the back of her head, a warning of what was to come once Erwin left. 

“How is his physical training going?” Erwin asked, consulting his notes again. 

“He’s been exhausted from the titan training, so it’s difficult to say.” Levi sat back, feeling more confident that he was in control of the situation. His dick twitched in Hange’s mouth and she gave a gentle suck, hand rising up to fondle his balls. 

“I assume he’s at least competent with the ODM gear?” 

“Yes Comand—uh— Commander,” Hange had begun to make soft, nearly inaudible humming sounds around his dick. Vibrating his sensitive, swollen flesh. Her fingers toyed more insistently with his sac. 

Erwin sat back, surprised, “Captain, are you sure everything is alright?” 

“Now that you mention it,” Levi cleared his throat, digging his fingers harder into Hange’s scalp and pushing her hot, wet mouth more insistently against his cock. “I am beginning to feel a  bit ill. Perhaps we could postpone this meeting until tomorrow?” 

“No need,” Erwin said, slapping his notebook shut. For a brief moment Levi was afraid that they were caught. “I have everything I need. Get some rest, I’ll see you tomorrow at morning call.” 

With that the Commander stood up to leave. Levi scooted his chair further forward, trapping Hange’s head between his muscular thighs as he tried to obscure the act of oral sex from Erwin’s view. Luckily the man only turned around once he reached the door, his expression was curious.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where Hange is, would you?” Erwin asked, raising a brow. 

“Nope,” Levi replied, perhaps too curtly. “Definetly not in the fucking baths though.” 

That earned him another, more insistent hum that vibrated down his aching cock. He was beginning to swell in her mouth, balls tightening up under her ministrations. 

Erwin only hummed in reply, then shut the door behind him with a gentle click. 

At once Levi was on his feet, pulling his sopping cock free of Hange’s seeking mouth. He held her down by her shoulder with one hand while he jerked himself off over her face with the other. 

“What the fuck was that four-eyes,” He hissed through clenched teeth, abdomen and thighs going tense with impending pleasure. “You trying to get us fucking demoted for fraternizing, huh?” 

Hange only moaned, wriggling her body slightly and craning her neck so her face was positioned directly beneath his angry red dick. He slapped her cheeks with it, leaving an obvious wet spot on her tanned skin. 

“Fuck!” Levi snarled, throwing his head back as his cock began to pulse and white hot ropes of his semen shot across Hange’s prominent features. It criss-crossed the jut of her nose and dirtied the lenses of her glasses. 

Hange grinned, licking it off of her lips. 

“But that was awesome, right?” She leaned forward and kissed the tip of his softening cock. 

“Fuck, four-eyes,” Levi panted. Then he leaned over and hoisted her up by her armpits, sitting her on his desk. He kissed her lips, then her chin, then lowered his mouth to her throat. 

“Oh,” Hange moaned softly as he descended down her body, thumbs hooking into her waistband. “Oh.” 

He returned the favor, thoroughly. 

[tonguetiedraven]

Could I ask for a werewolf bonrin drabble? Idc whose the werewolf I just want werewolf bonrin hurt/comfort. Thank you

So I went crazy with this one and ended up writing like 5,000 words before I made myself stop and remember this was a drabble request. I’m going to post the full length thing on ao3 after I finish it (I guarantee it will still somehow get longer) and clean it up some, lol. In the meantime, have some hurt/comfort of Bon helping Rin deal with the change.

I am actually incapable of writing a proper 100 word drabble. It's not in my abilities to be that short and concise.

I hope you enjoy it, and thanks for the prompt! :D

__

To say he was nervous would be an understatement. It wasn't exactly something he could study, not easily, and it wasn't exactly something he could study up on.

After all, only a few people knew werewolves existed, and they didn't tend to write about it.

He trusted Rin to keep him safe, and he knew he loved Rin enough to take the risk being present presented. Mainly because of the few things he had learned.

It hurt. That wasn't really surprising, Rin's entire body was transforming into something not quite man, and not quite wolf, but knowing Rin was in pain and that Bon's presence might comfort him...

How could he stay away? So what if there was no telling just how the wolf might react? If it was still Rin, Bon trusted him.

"You know you don't gotta do this?" Rin asked as he dropped the bag of supplies he'd insisted they bring just in case things went south.

Bon nodded absently and went over his mental checklist again. "I want to."

Rin came up behind him while he was staring at the tree line and wrapped his arms around Bon's waist. The warm touch helped bring him back to the moment, and it helped him swallow away the worry and focus on the now. It was going to be fine. Just being here was already all Rin had asked. He didn't have to worry about failing to meet some imaginary standard.

He squeezed the arms around his middle affectionately tilted his head back slightly so his cheek was against Rin's. Or would be against Rin's if it wasn't for his hood. It wasn't that chilly outside so he went ahead and lowered his hood, shaking out his hair with the motion.

Rin gasped in his ear and squeezed Bon tight around his waist. A little too tight.

The hair on the back of his neck felt like it stood on end.

"Uh, Rin?" His voice came out a little hoarse as Rin's head tilted towards him. He could feel his boyfriend's nose brush against his ear, inhaling deeply as his grip loosened just enough to not be painful.

"Your scent," Rin growled, "hit me when you dropped your hood." Rin kissed his neck. "Thought I was changing for a second there. I could feel the wolf trying to escape."

Well shit, what did he—

"Apparently we both like the way you smell."

"It's the shampoo," Bon murmured with a strangely bashful feeling in his gut, "guaranteed to make guys crazy."

"Better not be any other guys." Rin nipped his jaw and let him go. "Finish up with any supplies you need. We only got a few more minutes."

Bon jolted. Already? But they'd just gotten here! He hadn't even had time to unpack anything. He didn't have his compass or his first aid kit out, he didn't have the blankets ready, he wanted to reread the stuff about wolves he'd found and—

What was he doing?! He was wasting time!

Bon shot towards the backpacks and dropped next to them. He pawed through the pack until he had the first aid kit, the water bottle, and the compass, and turned around to find Rin had stripped himself of everything but his underwear.

Of course Rin took off his clothes before transforming. It made sense. It would save the clothes.

Bon promptly blushed and tried not to ogle the way Rin's lean body was lit with a pale glow from the moonlight. His boyfriend was undeniably attractive, but the thing that drew his gaze, the thing that was hardest to look away from? It was the gnarled mass of scar tissues across the middle of Rin's chest.

The spot where Rin had been attacked.

"Stay over there." Rin pointed to a spot as far away from himself as Bon could get without leaving their little clearing. He went as ordered, trying not to steal another look of his boyfriend. It felt rude to ogle him right now.

Bon set the backpack down and looked up just as the moon reached its pinnacle and Rin's body went rigid.

His entire body was covered in a shimmer of blue light, almost like he was on fire, and for a moment Bon wanted to run to him and put the flames out. They were a shock to see, and when they were accompanied by the cry of pain, Bon started to move.

Then Rin jerked forward and fell to the ground.

Bon had read that the transformation was painful. Rin had said it sucked and left him tender. Neither description prepared him for the agony it was clear Rin was going through. It didn't prepare him for the scream Rin gave until he couldn't scream and could just writhe. It didn't describe the way Rin's body changed and broke to accommodate the new shapes.

He threw up. Tears welled up in his own eyes, and he couldn't do anything to stop the pain Rin was enduring. He couldn't do anything but watch and say Rin's name over and over like some kind of broken mantra that didn't fix anything.

Finally, after Bon had fallen to his knees, Rin struggled to his transformed feet and howled.

Bon had heard Rin's howl before, he found it strangely alluring if he was honest, and now it made his eyes flood with tears. It was over. The transformation was finished. There wouldn't be any more pain. Not until he had to change back.

Bon staggered to his feet and stumbled towards Rin in direct rebellion to his base instincts. Instincts which were screeching at him to run the hell away because this werewolf could kill him with almost no effort.

But that werewolf was Rin and Rin was in pain.

“Rin,” he gasped, sliding to his knees and reaching for Rin with trembling hands. The werewolf turned towards him and closed the distance between them, leaning into the touch with a small whimper.

It was all the invitation Bon needed. He threw his arms around Rin and hugged him close. Rin’s muzzle tucked against his neck, inhaling loudly, breathing in his scent and relaxing into Bon’s hold.

“Shit, I— are you okay? How can I — what do I do?”

Rin flopped over on his side with a whine. He pawed at Bon’s leg with another whine. He wasn’t sure what that meant, or what it was Rin was asking for, so he just followed his gut. It wanted Rin closer, so he lifted Rin’s fairly large head and put it on his lap.

Rin’s fur was surprisingly soft. It was as dark as his hair, slightly blue, and it almost looked shimmery when the moonlight hit it just right. His eyes were the same bright color they always were, beautiful and familiar as they stared up at him.

“Easy, babe. Just relax. You don’t have to be anywhere. Just take a few minutes, ‘kay? Let your body recover.”

Rin nuzzled into his hand with a whine. “I gotcha,” he promised, scratching behind Rin’s ear. Rin’s tail thumped with the action and he pressed his nose against Bon’s wrist, inhaling deeply and relaxing into the pets as he took in Bon’s scent.

Apparently that comfort thing had been real.

If that worked, maybe the other stuff would?

He pulled the water bottle out of his pocket, keeping one hand against Rin's nose so he could keep inhaling his scent, and used his teeth to get the plastic top off. He spat it to the side and brought the water bottle to Rin's mouth. Pouring some in his palm, he offered it to Rin who promptly lapped it up with a happy, snuffly sort of noise.

He poured some more, and repeated the process until Rin had drank all the water and left his hand a mildly slobbery mess. He wiped the... drool?... sure. Drool, on his jeans and went back to petting Rin until his boyfriend shifted in his lap.

Rin's tail started thumping as the muzzle moved up to sniff its way around his face. A cold nose brushed over his cheeks, along his nose, up his brow, through his hair, over his ears, and finally down to his neck. It felt strangely like Rin was cataloguing all of him, and it certainly felt affectionate.

He'd expected this to be a bit more violent. The lore certainly made werewolves sound wild and terrifying. This felt more like an over grown dog.

"You feeling better?" He asked as Rin put a paw on Bon's leg and made an excited noise that sounded a bit like a 'borf.' It wasn't quite a bark, but it was close.

Rin sprang up in answer, stretching to his full height, and for a moment, looking a little like a monster. The light caught him just right so he seemed to shimmer, and his eyes were glowing supernaturally in the dim light of the forest.

Rin took a step back, watching Bon with unblinking eyes, and slowly tilted his head. He whined, just a little, just enough to make Bon jolt out of the spellbound state the blue glowing eyes had drawn him into. He blinked, and got to his feet.

Rin immediately bound a few steps away, came back to him, and ran a little further before looking over his shoulder in clear anticipation.

"You wanna run?" Bon asked with mild confusion.

Rin barked, a booming noise that made Bon's heart pound with momentary shock even as a smile lifted his lips. What the hell. Why bother running every morning if he couldn't play with his werewolf boyfriend?

"Alright," he strolled up to Rin and caressed his furry cheek, "if you think you can keep up."

Rin threw his head back and howled with delight. They dashed off into the forest, embracing the freedom of the night while they could.

[storytimewithcort]

Will’s Got A Crush (part 1 &2)

 Hello Lovies, I wrote a Will/Colin Story cause Why the Eff not

Fandom: Ted Lasso

Summary:  Will’s got a crush, and Isaac is ultimate wingman. 

Pairing: Oh you know, Colin x Will

Warning: Alcohol, some bad flirting, but nothing really yet

A/n:  Started as a silly short drabble, but now it has 2 chapters! Please enjoy. 

also on Ao3 -  https://archiveofourown.org/works/34923553/chapters/86967319

------

Part 1 (of 3)

Will was cleaning up the locker room the same as always after a game, picking up damp and musky towels and tossing in them in his cart with minimal contact. A few of the players remained, but most had left for the club in post celebratory fashion about a half hour ago. Colin, Moe, and Isaac were crowding Isaac's phone while watching a video about something....something...Will couldn't say what.

He was too busy staring at Colin's face light up with a smile at whatever it was they watched. The way his eyes crinkled made Will smile himself, his stomach filling with a fluttery nervousness.

It was a nasty little habit that started a couple weeks ago. Whenever he was around the team, his focus just drifted to Colin. Colin was fit, yea, the best ass he'd ever seen, yea, but he was also really, really kind of adorable. When he smiled it accentuated his cheekbones and the plumpness of his cheeks. And his cheeks were frequently flushed from excursion, that only added to their appeal. Sometimes Colin would pout over something someone said, his bottom lip jutting out like a child's would when they didn't get their way. He was just extremely cute as far as Will was concerned.

However, Colin was also a famous footballer. Will was just a kitman who might just get fired over his hopeless little crush.

Especially when he also drives the laundry cart directly into the side of a bench in his distraction and breaks a wheel off.

"Oh no!" Will cried as he rushed over to pick up the wheel like it was a sacred egg needing delicate protection. "Not again." Third time this week he'd done something foolish because he was distracted.

"Ok, mate?" Colin asked as all three looked over to where Will scrambled to the ground in hopes the wheel would simply pop back on.

"Oh, uh, yeah!" Will answered tripping over his own tongue.

"Cool then," Colin said, before pulling on his jacket. "best be going, Moe - still need a ride?" Moe nodded and as they were heading towards the exit, Colin hollered over his shoulder, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight..." Will called from the floor before adding just in time before Colin disappeared around the corner, "Have a good weekend Colin."

Unexpectedly Colin turned full around and beamed at Will with one of those big doofy smiles Will liked so much. "Aye you too! See you Monday."

Will felt like the sun itself just shot him with an arrow through the heart as he watched Colin leave again.

A few minutes and lots of tinkering later, Will finally fixed the wheel on the cart and happily pulled himself up to his feet. Then jumped clear out of his body at the feeling of a hand clamp onto his shoulder.

"Wha! Holy - I didn’t know you where still here Isaac!" Will yelped.

Isaac just smirked and raised an eyebrow, "I can give you his number."

"His what?" Will mumbled, was Isaac really? "No, no I don't..."

"He's single." Isaac shrugged before walking towards the door too. "And gay." Then from down the hallway he calls.

"And he thinks you're cute, proper fit."

Will just about crashes the cart again.

Part 2 

"Are you sure?" Will asked, a bit overwhelmed by how excited Zoreaux was about the idea. They stood outside Viva with a few other Richmond folk. The air was chilly as they traveled across the car park.

"Man, it's your birthday, we're going to celebrate. Twenty One!"

"Wait, you're twenty-one?" Jan asked, truly shocked, "I thought you were fourteen, maybe fifteen."

Will shrugged, "I actually get that a lot. I was trying to open a savings account last week and the banker wanted to know if it was alright with my mum."

"Poor little baby face." Jan laughed.

"Will, it's your birthday?" Colin injected. “And here I thought we finally convinced you to party with us because of our charms.”

“You have no charms, mate.” Zoreaux answered and quickly got an elbow in the side of his rips.

“Oi, I am full of charm.” Colin retorted before quickly turning to Isaac, "I'm charming, right?"

Isaac nodded, shaking his head slightly, "Yea bruv."

“Prove it then, let's see who pulls a hottie tonight.” Zoreaux’s challenge made some of the other boys holler with enthusiasm.

Colin shrugged the challenge off and turned to Will again. He smiled wide. “First drink on me Birthday Boy. Let's get this night going!”  While Colin's enthusiasm was nerve-racking, his smile was every bit of convincing Will needed in that moment.

"O-ok, let's go in."  He said softly.

The club was loud and packed. They all made it to a corner beyond the dance floor to a grouping of booths and chairs. In little time they were joking, dancing, and drinking in excess.

Will tried to pay attention to everyone equally, but the loud music and dark atmosphere made it hard to focus. So instead he plopped down next to Isaac and spent his time listening to the stories Colin told with glee. Laughing each time Isaac corrected the story, claiming Colin was embellishing the truth. Honestly, Will could listen to Colin speak endlessly.

Maybe an hour in, Will needed a breather. Isaac was too good at cheerfully encouraging another sip, another drink. Will wasn’t much of a drinker, and he was surely a bit drunk already. As he waited for the bartender to get him some water, a man came to stand next to Will and called out for a pint. The fella was tall and a bit older, but not so old his presence at the club seemed out of place. He looked over to Will and nodded a greeting. Will couldn’t help but nod back, with a small smile. The man stood up straighter at Will and smirked.

“Enjoying your night?” The man asked with a honeyed tone.

Will nodded some more, eyes squeezing shut briefly when the shake of his head made him dizzy for a moment. ”Iz good.” He finally answered.

Will’s sloppy speech didn’t seem to make the man uncomfortable, in fact, the man laughed softly and took a small step closer to Will. Then he looked back over to the bartender and hollered with a grimace. "Hey, we don't have all night here!"  When he turned back to face Will he was smiling again, as if his previous comment never happened. "The service here is shit."

"I don't think I've seen you here before. I would have remembered." He spoke again, all while tapping his fingers on the bar top.

"I just came with some friends. I'm not usually the, the uh, club type." Will said, impressed by his ability to complete full sentences despite his alcohol soaked mind.

"Lucky friends." The man said before waving his hands around towards the bartender, who was at the other end of the bar making some mixed drinks for what looked like a stag party.

"One minute," the bartender called. The man made a huff of anger, but Will heard instead another voice close to his ear. The sound was more intoxicated than anything he could possibly drink.

"Let me get you away from this prick." and Will could swear he heard a smile in Colin’s voice.

Will’s mind repeated, “Holy Shit, his voice” for a long time as he followed Colin’s lead toward the bathrooms. Once they were both in a more secluded area of the club and well out of earshot of the man who was still heckling the bartender, Colin turned to look at Will.

“Mate, what are you doing letting that jerk-off flirt with you?” Colin asked and Will cocked his head to the side.

“Nah, he wasn’t…”

“Are you blind? He was not only a royal twat, but totally into you. I won’t stop you, if that's the kind of thing you're into.” He paused and the smile faded from his face. Will felt like the weight of the frown forming on Colin’s face was forcing him to frown as well. “I don’t...well, Richmond folks look out for each other, and I think it’s worth pointing out - you deserve a lot better than a jerk. And I would know...” Now he was looking down at the ground. Was it the alcohol or was Will really witnessing the least sunshiny version of Colin. He suddenly desperately wanted his goofy Colin back. Willing to do quite anything to make it happen. Then Colin spoke again and Will’s heart broke.

“I used to be quite the jerk myself.”

Will couldn’t explain the rush of feeling that overcame him in that moment, but he acted on impulse. Letting the sudden fire rushing his veins out.

“No!” he certainly yelled in Colin’s face.

Colin’s wide eyes looked up and met Will’s. “No, I was, before you came around I was a terrible person. Ask Nate, or don’t since he’s dead to us now.”

“No!” Will yelled again, “No! Maybe you did some thoughtless things, but I refuse!” he was all too aware he was getting extremely loud, but couldn’t stop himself. “I refuse to see you as anything but an amazing, kind, clever, and goofy person! You better accept that!”

Colin looked at him like he was insane, Will was sure of it. The fire inside him burned out all at once and he felt very embarrassed for yelling at the very person he had a giant crush on. “Sorry for yelling.” Then he turned towards the exit. “I should go.” He mumbled.

He took a few steps when he heard the call, “Wait up!”

Then Colin was walking with him. “You’ve been drinking, like a lot. Shouldn’t go home alone, you know? Safely in numbers and all that” Will was relieved to see that although Colin had a look in his eyes Will couldn’t place and a red tint to his cheeks, at least he was smiling again. That was good enough for now.

“Let me walk you home Birthday Boy, Yea?”

“Ok, yea. That sounds nice.”

Isaac watched the pair leave with a large smirk on his face. Glad he pushed Colin out of the booth a bit ago with the prompt, “Go check on Will, I think that geezer is hitting on him.” It was too easy. At this rate, he better start planning the wedding.

---

<3

[hanmajoerin]

A/N: Did I show up twenty years too late for Ranma 1/2 fanfiction? Probably. Do I give a shit? N O P E. Someone left a tag on one of my Ranma posts saying that Ranma and Akane were a matching set of idiots and I just wanted to explore that. I’m here to try my hand at bringing them to life, keyword: try. Nobody does humor like Takahashi does.

Summary: A collection of drabbles and one-shots where Ranma tries his best to be a supportive husband on Akane’s cooking journey. Post!Cannon, in a faraway future where the world is still whacky but the kids grew up.

Chapter Summary: Ranma Saotome, 22 years old. He’s been the husband of Akane Saotome for two years, but they’ve known each other way longer. His goal? Buy enough antacids to pillow the upcoming blow of his wife’s meal to “celebrate” having the dojo to themselves. Short term damage: stomach ache for the whole weekend. Long term damage: at least six months shaved off of his life.

II AO3 II Fanfiction.net II

Chapter 1: Antacids

“Shucks...” Ranma mumbled to himself, pilfering through the medicine cabinet for the fifth time in the past three minutes. There was an avalanche of first aid kits, unraveled bandage wraps, and a few stray Band-Aids that fluttered around as he continued searching. What a rookie mistake, he mentally admonished with a sigh. Antacids became a staple of his diet as a grown man, so it wasn’t too surprising that his stock was depleted, but he’d known this weekend was coming.

Creeping out into the hallway, Ranma took care to tread on the balls of his feet. If he tried–really tried–he’d leave without Akane noticing. That would be for the best. As he made it to the entryway, the martial artist dared sniffing the air. The regret was instantaneous and he scrambled to bury his mouth in the crook of his elbow. Ranma hoped the trusty red shirt would be enough to muffle his unstoppable coughing fit, but he’d been sneaking out. Everything was so much louder when a person was attempting to go unnoticed. He leaned back onto the wall to steady himself. Whatever Frankenstein creation Akane was whipping up was unidentifiable. And, it already had the potential to send him flying from the Tendo and Saotome Residence to a hospital bed.

“Ranma, where are you going?” Akane asked, stepping out into the hall and wiping her hands on his apron. The man in question felt his spine straighten, his shoulders tensing so far they touched his ears. Over the years, Ranma put blood, sweat, and tears into convincing his wife that instant ramen was her deal and home cooked meals were his. But, as luck would have it, she still experimented when the opportunity presented itself. An opportunity like a husband and a wife having the entire home for the entire weekend entirely to themselves. She wanted to celebrate... Ranma blanched. There would be nothing to do after he knocked back that disastrous medley of a meal except for curl into the fetal position and let his organs writhe in agony.

“Uh, j-just to the store. Realized I need to uh... get some nails for the roof!” He lied, but Akane was in such a good mood that she hadn’t sensed the hesitation, hadn’t heard the hitch in his voice.

“Could you pick up some jalapeno peppers for me while you’re out?” She asked with that smile that could send him to his knees in the best way but now left them quivering in the worst.

Don’t run for the camping packs, don’t grab the backpacks in Pop’s room, don’t think about how they’re already stuffed with supplies to flee from Akane’s fever drea–

“Ranma?”

Ranma swore his life was flashing before his eyes. He gulped, big. I think I just remembered the first time I took a breath. “Uh, yep, I’ll pick it up for you.”

He’d buy his wife a bell pepper. A green sweet pepper. She wouldn’t know the difference. After all, nine out of ten times she couldn’t even tell heads or tails from motor and vegetable oil.

“It’s for us!”

“Oh, oh man...” Ranma mumbled before squaring his feature into focus and offering his wife what had to be an unsettling smirk. Not that she bothered to analyze it. “I’ll be back!” He announced, offering her a parade caliber wave after he slid on his black flats.

“Take care,” Akane said, turning back to the kitchen.

-x-

The bite of winter snuck through his blue jacket and Ranma shivered. Guess it was better for winter to nip at him than whatever was simmering at home. The martial artist shoved his hands into his pants pocket, kicking at the sidewalk as he made his way to the nearest convenience store. “Aw geez, why’d I have to fall for a tomboy who cooks like Ryoga reads a map?” He grumbled, knowing that his excellent skills in the dojo could never help him dodge Akane’s cooking.

Of course, he hadn’t been expecting an answer, but the universe always seemed to be listening. The light of the 7-11 sign was his answer. It felt like salvation. Ranma’d storm in there and clear the entire shelf of its antacids, splurge now so he’d never have to come back. That was his fever dream.

When the bell tolled, signaling his entrance, Ranma swore he’d found nirvana. The martial artist beelined to the small produce freezer first, sighing in relief at the sight of a single bag of mini-peppers. They were illuminated perfectly under the lights, and sure, they didn’t match the color of a jalapeño, but they were close enough in size. Akane probably wouldn’t think anything of it. Ranma greedily snatched them up into his hands. Nirvana, salvation, and now a living Buddha. The gods came through for once.

Next, his feet walked him to the antacids. Ranma visited this place so often, he knew the isle they were in by heart now. Although he promised to buy out the store’s supply, Ranma resisted the urge and picked up three bottles instead. If Akane saw him walking in with so many all at once, he’d have to grit his teeth and eat dinner without knocking ‘em back. Akane wasn’t below that kind of stunt. Ranma shook his head.

“Good evening,” the cashier stated as Ranma all but slammed his items onto the checkout counter. The kid looked sharp enough. Skinny, brown eyes, black hair. The lucky bastard probably never ate a burnt piece of toast let alone an entire fiesta of flavors that somehow tasted the way painful was spelled. “Heartburn bad lately?” He asked, naively.

Ranma clenched his fist, closing his eyes and letting a rogue tear fall. “Listen pal, my wife and I’ve got the house to ourselves this weekend. You’ve never had her cooking and you don’t want to.” Ranma reached below the counter and threw an extra travel sized bottle of antacids onto the counter for extra measure.

The cashier blinked a few times, making Ranma scowl. He knew it. Pulling out his wallet, the cashier quickly bagged his items. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Your total is 4,237 yen.”

Ranma placed the money into the styrofoam tray, more tears filling his eyes. They glistened like dew under the harsh yellow lights. “These might not even be enough to save me.”

[seekingseven]

Hello Seeking! For a drabble request: I would love to see you write some beautiful friendship with Legend & Ravio! bonus if Warriors is there too :D

Linked Universe Prompt Requests #7!

Thanks for the awesome prompt! I'm always down to write some platonic shenanigans. Enjoy this first-person minific!

(You can also read the fic here on Ao3!)

~~~~~~

It's twenty minutes to opening time, but I've already swept the floors and opened the door. The window blinds are pulled to the side—sunlight makes the merchandise look better, I've learned—but now there are bugs crawling over the sill and leaving smears on the white paint. Sheerow picks them off. I feel a little bad about it, letting Sheerow eat the bugs instead of an actual breakfast, that is, but I think he'd prefer them over green onion omelets.

I take a seat at the table and twirl a fork between my fingers. He eats, and so do I, and there's only the sound of clicks and clunks and clinks. Dust motes fizz through the air. From across the room, I notice that the masks hanging from the wall are misaligned. White fuzz from the duster curl atop their wooden faces, and I grunt to myself. Sheerow glares at me as I stand up to brush the must off. He wants me to finish first, I’m sure.

I sneeze. It sounds aggressive, and Sheerow turns his attention back to his bugs. We talk like this, in sneezes and clicks and the occasional scratch. Mr. Hero says it's off-putting. I don't say anything, because Sheerow doesn't speak Hylian, and I don't want him to feel left out.

The masks squeak as I pinch them between my palms. Left, right, left; I never had a good sense of askew or aligned. I take a step back. It still looks crooked. Sheerow squeaks from the window, and I squeak back. He's still hungry, I know, but it doesn't look professional to be fixing merchandise when there are customers in the store, so say I'll make him breakfast once the customers come in and the wall doesn't look so slanted.

Tile creeks as I step back again. I sigh, give up, wipe the slip of sweat at the back of my neck and dry it off on my apron. My apron! I need to change into my uniform! The elemental rods on the wall bounce in their racks as I run across the store. My heels ache and my hair flops in front of my eyes. The doorknob whines as I pull it open and dart to the back room.

A purple tunic, brown boots, belt clasp. White gloves, I pull them on finger by finger, huffing as the cloth crumples and knots under the swift movements, and I stub my toe as I jam my feet in the boots. I hiss. From across the room, Sheerow makes a noise. I can't tell if he's laughing or asking if I'm okay.

I'm breathing through a curtain of hair by the time I get my belt clasp on. It sticks to my face, the hair, like licorice overcooked. I really need to get it cut. I won't, of course, because I'll forget as soon as I step back into the shop, but I tell myself that anyway. It makes me feel better. Pretending I won't forget, that is.

I pull the leather through the clasp, down to the last notch, and twist the overhang around three times so it doesn't fall off. There's not enough stuff in my size, not in Hyrule. Mr. Hero says it's because I'm XXS, I say it's because Hylians are too big. We always laugh about that. I smile to myself as I give the belt one shake, two; it's snug over my hip bones, so I leave it alone. I pull my apron off the floor and roll it between my hands—it's faster than folding it—and notice something on the windowsill. I look closer.

It's a book, green and leathery, and there's a big clasp between it's covers. A lock. I flip it over, see the gold stitching on the back. Air hisses through my teeth, and my eyebrows pull the skin of my eyelids up.

This isn't mine.

I toss the book under my arm, and, apron forgotten, dash out the door. Sheerow chitters after me, hopping away from my half-eaten breakfast (so he does like green onion omelets!), and flutters to my shoulder.

"We're heading after Mr. Hero," I say, breath short. With the back of my heel, I kick the shop door shut. Sheerow flips the "OPEN" sign over for me. A handful of villagers walking up the road give me an odd look—I would have felt bad if they were customers, but I know they aren't, so I give them a fake smile as I run along.

Immediately I regret tightening my belt so much. Something soft and moving presses against the strip of leather, and Sheerow picks anxiously at the knotted overhang. I wave him away with one hand, already sweating, and jerk my shoulder up until the book is snuggled safely under my arm. My back is wet. Sheerow's wings flap against the tips of my ears, and the floor blurs underfoot. My chest starts to feel fuzzy, and I stop for a minute to catch my breath. The blood running to my heart bulges into my head, and I pressed the back of my head to my cheek. It's hot—the air, my head, and my cheek. I groan. Sheerow pinches the sweatiest part of my shirt between his beak and flaps backward, allowing a wisp of breeze to slip in, and I thank him.

"We need to keep going," I insist, more to myself than to him. Slowly, I uncurl my spine from its hunch. Bones click as I pull my hips forward and grind my heels into the floor. There's a reason I don't play sports. "He's going to be very upset if he realizes he left this at the shop; we need to catch up to him before he makes it to that portal."

Sheerow twitters. Legs burning, I try and break back into a run. I ignore the head tilts and squinting eyes of passersbys. Usually, I wouldn't, but if I spent too long brooding on it I would get distracted, and then Mr. Hero would leave, and his adventure would be ruined when he realized what he forgot.

The stone underfoot turns to dirt, then to water as I splash through a brook. I could have hopped over it, the brook, that is, but the water feels good against my shins, and, anyway, if I turn up looking weather worn, maybe Mr. Hero would feel obligated to buy something from the shop.

There's chattering up ahead, baritone, and sweat drips into my smile.

"Almost there," I puff, trying to shake off the blades of grass sticking to my wet legs. I shift the book from one arm to another and comb a hand through my hair. Sheerow is circling my head. Curled breezes slide down my hair and neck, and I thank him again as I pick my way through the underbrush. Something bites me. I squeak. Sheerow bites it in retaliation as I swipe off the bead of red on my leg. I want to look rugged, but not that rugged.

The voices ahead grow louder as I pull closer. There's a flash of blue between the trees.

"Hey!" I cry. Sheerow lets out an avian equivalent of the greeting, and a face turns towards me. Pale, blond, blue-eyed; just like Mr. Hero's, but a little shapelier. I said the same during dinner last night; everyone laughed. Except Mr. Hero, of course. He kicked me under the table.

I'm pretty sure he thought it was funny, though.

"Oh, hey there, Ravio! Where did you come from?

"My house! Uh, is Mr. Hero ahead? He left something!"

The man glances backwards, then turns towards me. It's only when he's a few paces away that I realize how tall he is. What was his name, again? Captain? Warriors? I'll just call him sir; better to be safe than sorry.

"Legend already ran ahead, but if you want me to give him anything I can take it for you,” he says. “Want to hand it to me? Must be something important! You look a little bungled up. Is that cut on your arm okay?"

I glance at my arm. Something has torn at my sleeve, and there's red under the cut cloth. I groan. The other hero lets out a friendly laugh and extends his hand, repeating his earlier question.

"Oh!" I say. "I’m fine. And yes, it is very important, you're right! Here you go. Be careful with it. Don't lose it, yeah?"

He takes it, eyebrows furrowed, and lets it bounce lightly in one hand. The look in his eye is familiar.

"You don't know what it is?" I ask. The words sound a little more disbelieving than I meant them to.

"Well, not exactly. Your friend owns a lot of weird stuff, you know."

"That's, well, that's true. Uh, so, that's a coupon book. Very important. Don't lose it!"

The other hero flinched, muscles in his neck jerking back as he gave the book a hard look. "Coupon book?"

I open my mouth. Far away, a clock chimes ten. Sheerow gives me a panicked look. The shop!

"Coupon book!" I blabber, already turning to go. "Very important. He's going to lose his mind if he realizes that he doesn't have it with him. Anyway! I need to go. Bye!"

I turn quickly and run. Something snags my foot, but I stumble only a little before I'm out of sight. Or, at least, I think I am, because it takes Sheerow a minute to find me. Behind me, the other hero is calling, but I don't turn back. Sheerow chatters into my ear as we run along.

"I know, I know, but he would be so upset if he didn't have it. Anyway, business is slow in the morning. I think we'll be fine!"

Only the first part was true, but it didn't matter.

~~ Fine ~~ I hope you enjoyed! Thank you so much for reading! [Previous Request] - [Next Request]

[plasticnightmaredoll]

So, this is a little goofy thing featuring Arkham Knight Eddie and a female!o/c  that was inspired by an actual dream I had recently. Like, literally, the dream mentioned in this story is almost exactly the same.

It’s pretty short and I’m....not entirely sure it’s good but I dunno...I wanted to get that dream out of my head somehow and turn it into something positive so...here is this silly drabble.

Contains some smut and suggestive comments, but nothing overly explicit. 

Words: 2104 Title: i'm best when I'm In love Rating: M (going with the AO3 smutty content labels here)

“My Dear, you’re struggling,” Edward said as he moved one of his pawns. 

“Well, I have yet to beat you, Eddie,” Sara responded in a tense voice, letting out a sharp, frustrated breath.

“True, but lately, you’ve been performing much better than this. Right now, your tactics are sloppy, like when I first started teaching you.”

“Chess takes time to learn, right?”

“Correct, and you have the benefit of learning from an astounding genius like myself. However, your focus is not on the game, so no matter what I say, you’re still going to lose much sooner than you should.”

“It’s not over yet.”

Edward’s gaze moved from the chess board to Sara’s agitated expression, noting the almost pained look in her eyes as she tried so very hard to concentrate on the game. It was easy to see that she was becoming more panicked by the second, and whatever skills she had acquired from his teachings had gone out the window for the time being.

“No, but the way you’re tap, tap, tapping that Knight piece on the table indicates there’s a much more serious problem here,” Edward said.

Sara hadn’t even realized she was doing it, and quickly stopped once she looked down at her right hand. The Knight piece was given a much-needed break as she set it on the table and tried to gather her thoughts.

“Sorry,” Sara said, running a hand through her hair. 

As much as Edward wanted for Sara to look at him, he knew how nerve-wracking it could be for her to make direct eye contact when she was upset. It did sadden him, though, that she had barely glanced at him the whole time they’d been together that day, and part of him wondered if there was something he did to make her uncomfortable -- or something he didn’t do. Both of them had a lot of pent up emotions, and while they were quick to unleash them when under stress, they were also terrible at asking for help or simply being vulnerable in general. So, he had to approach this cautiously. 

“Where is your mind at, Dearest Devinette?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to the side.

Sara let out a little huff which was as close to a chuckle as she could muster upon hearing one of his (rather adorable) nicknames for her.

“I’ve just got something on my mind,” she replied, resting her head in her left hand as she leaned on the table.

“Obviously,” said Edward, rolling his eyes. “But what precisely is on your mind?”

Sara chewed on her lower lip as she pondered how to respond. It was stupid, she told herself, what she was thinking, what she had been thinking, and she was almost embarrassed to admit it out loud -- let alone to herself. Edward was not going to take “no” for an answer, though, nor would he believe any lie she could toss into his lap. She was a terrible liar to begin with, and he was far too perceptive. 

“It’s about, um….” Sara began, her throat starting to clamp up as her heart raced in her chest. “It’s, uh, about...a…”

The need to “hide” was too great at that moment, and Sara abruptly stood and turned her back to Edward, bringing her index finger to her mouth to bite at the second knuckle.

“It’s about a dream I had recently,” Sara confessed, her mouth dry and her heart beating so loudly in her ears she thought Edward might hear it.

“Ok?” Edward said slowly, waiting for her to continue despite feeling a little impatient.

As much as Edward wanted to help his love, there was little he could do without knowing the details of what troubled her so. Being helpless like this -- being helpless at all -- always drove him crazy. He needed to solve this, but he also needed answers first.

“Well, in the dream, we were working together,” Sara continued. “At a job. At a company. We were programmers.”

“It sounds like a very tame dream so far,” Edward commented.

“We were on a project together, and we liked each other. You liked me. I felt so happy to be noticed by a guy, and I thought I had a chance with you. But then...things changed. A new programmer started working there, a pretty blonde woman who was really smart. Like, a natural. You suddenly stopped paying attention to me, choosing to spend time with her. You both looked very happy, had lots to talk about, and whenever I tried to get your attention, you would...brush me off. You even...removed yourself from the project we were working on so you could work with this woman on a different one. I was invisible to you after that, and very alone.”

Edward felt a mixture of frustration, sympathy, confusion, and hurt over Sara’s dream. It was pure nonsense, no doubt, in every possible way, but clearly, it had an effect on her. Insecurities could twist your thoughts and emotions in painful ways, ways that didn’t even make sense. But they tugged at you until you gave into them and believed what they believed. 

He could relate to that, even if he wasn’t willing to admit it out loud.

Edward got up from the table and approached Sara, wrapping his arms around her from behind to hold her against him.

“Oh, my silly little riddle,” he said with a smile, trying to brighten her spirits in some way. “It was just a dream, nothing more.”

“But...would you ever…?” Sara asked, her voice cracking.

“Would I ever, what?”

“Leave me for someone smarter, prettier…”

“What? No! Don’t be foolish!”

Edward made Sara turn to face him, his heart breaking upon seeing her tear-streaked face.

“I’m not going to leave you,” Edward said, cupping her face in his hands so she’d look at him. “You are the only one I want to be with. That dream was absolute nonsense, My Dear. I cannot even fathom for a second the mere idea of choosing someone else over you…” He leaned in and nuzzled her nose with his, smiling sweetly. “...my favorite distraction, my Darling Devinette, my Ravishing Riddle...”

Sara snorted, a grin spreading across her face.

“My Endearing Enigma,” Edward added, relieved to see her giggling.

“The nicknames are killing me,” Sara said, wiping her face. “You’re goofy.”

“”Goofy? Goofy, you say?” 

“Yes, and a total fucking nerd!”

“Oh, is that how it is then? Hmm?”

Edward scooped Sara up into his arms, humming contentedly.

“Well, this ‘Goofy Nerd’ is going to whisk you off to bed and physically  -- very physically -- demonstrate to you exactly how I feel.”

“Oh, my…” Sara said with a chuckle.

“I am going to make it so that you won’t be capable of coherent thoughts or speech,” Edward said with a smirk as he carried her to their bedroom. “You’ll be so overwhelmed with pleasure that the only thing you’ll be able to do is feel. No more negative, idiotic thoughts!”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Sara said, biting her lip.

---

“Oh, God, Eddie, there, please!”

“You’re so perfect, My Darling, so perfect…I can’t get enough...Oh, God!”

“What?” 

“Oh, no, no, no...not now!”

Sara watched Edward sit up, one hand covering the lower half of his face. While she couldn’t see anything yet, she knew what was happening.

“Oh, Eddie,” she said, quickly grabbing tissues for him. 

Edward took them and applied them to his bleeding nose, looking completely humiliated. Sara reached out to him, brushing hair from his face, but he jerked away, too embarrassed to even look at her. The poor man suffered from chronic nosebleeds, probably because his nose had been broken so many times (Thanks, Batman), and sometimes he got them during the most inconvenient moments.

“Let’s go to the bathroom,” Sara said.

She followed Edward into the bathroom, grabbing a wad of paper towels to hand to him for his nose. He threw the bloody tissues into the waste bin with a grunt, still unable to look her in the eye.

“I’ll run a bath,” Sara said as she went to turn on the tub faucet.

Edward’s nosebleed did slow while the tub filled up, but he still hated himself. Why did he have to have one while he was in the middle of…? With her? He was supposed to be making her feel good, not...bleeding on her. It was disgusting -- he felt disgusting. What kind of lover was he? 

Sara tapped Edward’s shoulder, telling him the bath was ready. He mumbled something, tossing the blood-soaked paper towels into the waste bin before turning to her. Why did she have to look at him like that? Like she was worried? Why did she care so much? Why wasn’t she angry with him for ruining ‘the mood?’ Or grossed out? There was drying blood on her shoulder still, and yet, she didn’t seem to care. 

Edward and Sara got into the tub with her sitting behind him. Taking a rag, she soaked it in the bathwater then handed it to him so he could clean his nose, lips, and chin of blood, and thankfully, the nosebleed had stopped by then. When she started to shampoo his hair, her elegant fingers lightly scratching his scalp as she hummed some random tune, he remembered the dream she had told him about. Once his hair was rinsed, he turned to face her, his expression full of guilt and sorrow. 

“What’s wrong, Eddie?” Sara asked.

“This is just one of the many reasons why I could never want someone else,” Edward said quietly. “You’re so kind to me, so gentle...and I didn’t do anything to deserve it -- to deserve you. No one has ever treated me the way you do, no one has ever looked at me the way you do, no one has ever spoken to me the way you do.... I never realized how...how alone I was until I met you. I’d do anything for you, give up everything for you…”

Even my own life, he thought. 

“So, please, never doubt how much you mean to me,” Edward said.

Sara was blushing, trying to come up with a response but too flustered to speak properly. 

“I...I don’t know ….I don’t know...what to say,” she admitted, smiling shyly. “I’ve….never heard someone say something like that before…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Edward assured her with a small, warm smile. “Just be with me.”

“Of course.”

Edward turned around so he could rest against her, his head on her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around him. While he was planning to finish what he started once they were out of the tub and back into bed, in that moment, he felt absolutely perfect where he was. All his life, he’d never had affectionate physical contact. Sure, there was the awkward hug here and there, or obligatory embrace when he had a lover (and there were very, very, very few of those), but nothing that was genuine or even remotely pleasant.

But in moments like this one with his beloved, he felt like he could be as vulnerable as he needed because she’d never hurt or humiliate him. When she hugged him, it was always warm and welcoming. Whenever she held his hand, she loved to lace their fingers together, almost like she was “trapping” him but in the most romantic way possible. Whenever she kissed him, he felt absolutely smitten because her kisses were so comforting or even playful.

“I love you, My Dearest Horny Geek,” Sara whispered, barely holding back a cute chuckle.

Edward rolled his eyes but smirked at her outrageously endearing nickname for him. 

“And I love you, My Dearest Horny Enigma,” he replied, and they both couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Two horny peas in a pod,” she said as she placed a kiss to the top of his head. “And, you know, if you’re still up for it, you could put your ‘pea’ back in my ‘pod’ once we’re done with this bath.”

Edward slowly turned his head to look up at Sara, his cheeks a bright pink and his gaze full of bewilderment. When she snorted in amusement, he soon found himself joining her in a fit of childish giggles. And here she had been worried he would fall out of love with her. No one could make him laugh or grin like he did. No one could make him feel loved and needed like she did.

Only her. 

What a lucky little shit he was….

----

And there we have it! Hopefully it’s not too crappy. I’m not totally satisfied with it but don’t feel like making it a longer story (at least, not right now). Let me know what you think and damn, I have really depressing dreams sometimes.

[fragileizywriting]

Fic Writer Questions

i got tagged by @miabrown007!!!!! this is so exciting!!!!!!!

How many works do you have on AO3?

21!!!

What’s your total AO3 word count?

643,153 (400k+ of that was written this year!!!)

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

I've only ever written for Miraculous Ladybug on AO3!

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

I Want That Can't-Sleep Love: I wrote this fic while going through one of the most absolute turbulent experiences in my lifetime. Subsequently, this was also my first fic on AO3! And somehow it's been my most "famous" one, too. This is an ASMR AU where Marinette and Adrien are both extremely popular YouTubers who do ASMR for a living and have no idea who each other are, because they film from the neck down.

The Stars Are Nothing (Compared to Your Constellations of Freckles): This is a sort-of Marichat fic! As in, Marichat is a thing in this fic, and Adrien really wants to tell Marinette that he's Chat Noir. Her boyfriend. That guy. He wants to tell her. But is waaaay too much of a sissy to do it.

Locker Talk: Mouse Miraculous!Marinette and Snake Miraculous!Luka get trapped in a closet because of an Akuma, and then they fall in love. Maybe. The order might be wrong, though.

Sharks and Sugar: Quite possibly my prized possession, that will only be surpassed when I finish this very fic's sequel Eight for Two, this is a Kwami Swap + Reverse Crush AU in which Marinette has the Cat and Adrien has the Ladybug, and it's this AU's version of Ladrien. And Marinette has ADHD. And is obsessed with the idea of sharks. Adrien's just here for the ride.

The Bet: Also a Marichat fic! This one is really old. Chat Noir bets Marinette that he can kiss her by the end of the night, and he says this while he's in the middle of getting absolutely dragged through the mud in last place as they play Mario Kart (Mario Kart Wii, actually, because Mario Kart Wii is superior to literally every other Mario Kart that exists)

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Okay so uh. Uhm.

The short answer is no.

The long answer is: I really really want to. I get so excited reading comments and so euphoric that I never know how to respond. I get so embarrassed by whatever I end up typing into the comment box that I end up deleting it and kind of hiding away. The brief and small times I do actually manage to hit send, however, are the times where my worry has really been overcome by the need to answer.

I'm not a native English speaker, so I get incredibly shy. Like, really shy with the idea of being misunderstood and coming off as mean and rude.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Technically speaking the only angst I've written that has an ending is something isn't right (echoing mirrors). It's a Chat Blanc-centric drabble that's about a thousand words!

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

Nope! I've never been interested in writing or reading crossovers, I'll be honest. I always exclude them from my searches on AO3.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I haven't received hate, but I have gotten a few comments before saying "It would've made more sense if this character had done this, because of..." and essentially psycho-analyzing my plot and character motives for a better reason. It... didn't do me good. I felt incredibly embarrassed.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

No! I don't write smut. It's incredibly difficult, and I don't have the talent for it. There are so many good smut writers out there that I feel like anything I wrote would feel dull in comparison!

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I'm not a popular writer! A sad but grateful thing to be! I don't think anyone's stolen my fic, at least, I don't think so.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope, but there's a scene in one of my fics called Eight for Two that I think about constantly that I would really really kill to be translated into Portuguese. The problems I have with English with not being able to differentiate a "ser" and "estar"s... oh it frustrates me to no end. One of the reasons why I haven't finished this fic yet is I'm not sure how to make this much of an impact with this chapter in English.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Depends! I've been writing a fic called fire lily petals that is based off of an AU that a Miraculous server came up together in 2018 that I decided to write a "bit" of. 100k+ words after that and I've deviated from the original plot too much to consider it the original AU.

What’s your all-time favourite ship?

There's a hierarchy for me, right? I guess if I had to pick in the typical lovesquare, it would most definitely be Adrienette. I love the idea of Adrien being smitten with Marinette.

But if AUs are allowed in this idea, I really like the idea of a Reverse-Crush Adrien/Lady Noire. It's such a good ship. Ahhh. So good so good. It's literally just Marichat but catgirl instead of catboy. So good.

But... let's be honest with ourselves. If you've actually read my work and know of my work, it comes to no surprise that Lukadrinette is up there as well.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

My fic called The Icarus Theory. It's also a Marichat fic, and I spent a great deal of time thinking and planning and tending to this AU. But I've moved on from it, unfortunately. I used a lot of that groundwork in my Sharks and Sugar fic, though. The last scene that Adrien and Lady Noire have together, in the dark, in chapter six is my love letter to The Icarus Theory (I've never told anyone that!)

What are your writing strengths?

I write a lot of words.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I am not good with commas. I use a lot of emdashes, which look like this guy: "—" and I feel like it's almost painful at how obvious it makes my writing look. It makes my writing stick out like a sore thumb. I feel like my work is very stagnant.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I don't like it when people combine a mixture of French and English in a fic, it really takes the immersion out. We know they're speaking French, because they live in France. I don't understand why some people write some sentences in French and then proceed to write in the following lines: "I love it when you speak French to me." What! That doesn't make any sense!

Whenever I've written a word or a phrase that is supposed to show up as in a different language, I usually write it in brackets. Every time Marinette has spoken Mandarin in my fics, I write it something like: "And it's a shame, really, because no one ever knew that I can just [switch languages on the get go, just like this. And you just keep nodding your head, don't you? Pretending that you understand?] But I know you don't understand Mandarin."

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Yu-Gi-Oh!

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I'm going to be honest... Eight For Two. Maybe I'm just being impartial.

[snarkythewoecrow]

Can We Keep Him?

By: @snarky-drabbles gift for @whotheheckitheheck

for @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Rating: T

Relationships: Peter & Tony, Peter & Morgan

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Morgan Stark, May Parker, few other quick cameos

Summary: Tony didn't die in Endgame, so he introduces Peter to Morgan as her big brother.

Link to AO3 (Will be revealed soon)

Peter watched with teary eyes as Tony was carried through a portal to Wakanda. Pepper followed him. Peter fell to his knees and let out a heavy breath, dropping his head and resting his chin on his chest. The air smelled bitter, like charred flesh and smoke. He counted his breaths, trying to calm himself. A hand rested on his shoulder, and he lifted his head to look. War Machine—Rhodey—was looking down at him with sympathetic eyes.

“We won, kid. You did good, and Tony—Tony’s gonna be okay,” Rhodey said. “If there’s one thing I know about him, it's that he's damn hard to shake. This Thanos thing, it’s nowhere near enough to chase him off.”

Peter tried to smile, but he only managed to make his lips twitch. Rhodey extended a hand, and Peter took it, letting the man pull him to his feet.

“Come on, kid, let’s get you cleaned up.”

xXx

Time passed in a blur over the next few days. The world was in chaos, but Peter had May to ground him, and the knowledge that Tony was going to be okay. Happy had said he’d lost an arm, but he would survive. Rhodey was right. Thanos wasn’t enough to end Tony’s life.

His phone had been disconnected, but May had kept it and turned it back on for him. He sat on his bed, fingering the cracked screen, wondering who he should call first. Ned seemed like the obvious choice, but he really hoped to hear from Tony.

Maybe the fates were listening because no sooner than he thought of his mentor, did the phone come to life, the familiar picture of him and Tony lighting up the screen. He fumbled the phone as he tried to answer, swiping the screen to the side.

He brought the phone to his ear, sucking a breath. His heart was hammering, and his breath hitched when he heard Tony’s voice greeting him.

“Hey, kid,” Tony said, then paused. Peter held his breath. “How’re you doing?”

Peter choked on a sob, overwhelmed by the emotions bubbling up in him. It was only days ago that he’d thought he’d heard Tony’s voice for the last time.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, kid. Don’t—you don’t need to cry. We won. We did it, Peter. Really, those better be happy tears.”

Peter swiped at his tears. “I’m not crying—it’s just … I thought I’d lost you, too. Just like I lost everyone else.” He paused to catch his breath, sniffling a little. “Are you okay? Your arm was—the stones, they hurt you.”

An acrid smell seemed to gather in his nose again, even though the battle was days ago. He could taste the air, the bitterness of burning flesh. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on the present, on his room, on the way the mattress felt beneath him. He focused on the sounds of traffic and the insistent honking of a car alarm nearby. He barely registered Tony’s voice through the phone.

“Peter, you need to breathe, kid. I don’t want to even think what this must be like for you. Kids shouldn’t be part of the battlefield, and I’m sorry you got dragged into it. I’m sorry you had to see me like that, but kid, I’m okay. Yeah, I lost an arm, but it could have been so much worse. I’m still here, and so are you. That’s all that matters.”

Peter found himself nodding even though Tony could see. He used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe his face, but the tears kept coming.

“You’re really okay? Is someone with you—Ms. Potts?”

“Yeah, Pepper’s here, and so is my little Morguna. She got here last night. I’m still in Wakanda, Strange’s a pretty decent guy and brought her over.”

Peter blinked, his brow furrowing. “What are you talking about?”

Tony sighed. “Right, I forgot you didn’t know. It’s been a crazy few years, Pete. Pepper and I finally got hitched, and I had—I had a little girl. Her name’s Morgan, and she's so much like her mother, it’s scary, except for her sleep patterns. That’s all me, I’m afraid.”

Peter opened his mouth, lips moving as he tried to find the words. “You—you and Ms. Potts got married? That’s amazing, Mr. Stark. Congratulations, and wow, a daughter. I bet you’re a great dad.”

“I don’t know about that, but I’m trying. I guess you could say I got a little practice with you.”

Peter felt something warm unfurl in his chest. “Oh, yeah, I guess—I mean, yeah, you were—are—pretty good at that stuff. You always looked out for me.”

“And I always will, kid. I had a chance to look the other way. I was talking to Pepper about time travel. I’d figured it out, and I could have just stuck in a box and dropped it in the lake, but you know why I didn’t?”

“Why?”

“Because of you, Pete. I had to take the chance—the chance at having both my kids. Maybe I’m selfish. I don’t know. I just couldn’t—I couldn’t look the other way when there was a chance. I had to try, and I’m glad I did.”

Peter sat in stunned silence. He’d always hoped that he was important to Tony, but he’d doubted how much. Now there wasn’t any room for doubt. The man broke the rules to bring him back. He’d bent time and space.

“That’s—wow.”

Tony laughed. “Yeah, wow about covers it, so what are you and your aunt up to? I had an idea, that’s why I called. I wanted you to come visit, here, in Wakanda. Since saving the universe, Strange doesn’t seem to mind carting people around for me. So, what do you think, kiddo? You and your aunt up for a short jaunt through some science defying portals?”

Peter’s mouth hung open, and he blinked a few times before his brain reengaged. “Yeah—yeah, that would be good, really good. I should ask May, but I’m sure she would be up for it. When do we—when should we be ready?”

“Strange can bring you through any time. Like I said, Pep’s here, and so is Morgan. She knows all about you—the spider thing. I may have told her stories about her brother. You’re her favorite hero. I think even more so than her dad. She’s especially fond of your cat saving adventures.”

Peter swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yeah, I’m sure with you telling them they were more interesting than they really were, but I can’t blame her. Spider-man’s a pretty good guy.”

“That he is. Why don’t you go talk to your aunt, and then text me when you’re ready? I won’t tell Morgan you’re coming until it’s a sure thing.”

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds good. I’ll go do that. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Tony said his goodbyes, and then they disconnected. Clutching his phone, he went and found May in the kitchen, making quick work of an explanation, and an hour later, Peter was texting Tony that he was ready to go. May needed to stay behind, something about the hospital being overrun since everyone came back.

He had just so much as hit send when a sparkling orange circle spread out and opened in their living. On the other side of the portal, Peter could see the white walls and doors of what he assumed was the hospital.

Doctor Strange stepped through. “Peter, if you’re ready.” He gestured toward the portal.

May was looking wide-eyed at the spinning circle, she waved a finger between Doctor Strange and the orange circle. “Peter said you had a way to get him there. I didn’t realize—is it even safe to go through that?”

“It’s perfectly stable, I assure you.”

She eyed the portal, then turned to Peter, pulling him into a hug. “I know it’s ridiculous to say given all that’s happened, but you be careful, Peter. I can’t lose you again.”

Peter held her a little tighter, speaking against her hair. “You won’t. I’m not going anywhere—well, I’m going to Wakanda—but you know what I mean.”

She sniffled, drawing back, her hands on his arms. “Tell Stark I said thank you.”

“We should be going,” Strange said.

“I promise to come back.” He kissed her forehead, and she let him go.

Doctor Strange gestured to the circle, and Peter nodded, and with one last glance at May, he stepped through into a large, white room in Wakanda. Strange followed him, and then the portal closed.

“He’s through those doors,” Strange pointed at a set of doors to the right of the room.

“Yeah, I’ll just—I’ll go through there. Thank you for the portal and stuff. This was way faster than, like, taking a plane or something.”

“Or something, yes. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to meet with the king.” Strange turned with a flourish of his cape and went through a set of doors to the left.

Peter stood frozen for a moment, then made his feet move. His heart was in his throat as he paused in front of the doors. He wondered if he was supposed to knock. He raised his knuckles to the door, but a voice cut him off. He turned to see the girl from the battle, watching him.

“Peter, right? You’re the little spider from the battle. The boy with the gauntlet.”

“Yeah, that’s, uh, me, I guess. No, I mean, it is me. I’m spider-man.”

“And I am Shuri. It’s nice to meet you off the battlefield.”

Peter nodded, then looked back over his shoulder at the door. Tony was waiting on the other side. “I should probably—” He nodded toward the doors.

“He’s been waiting to see you, no need to knock.”

“Right, thank you.”

She nodded and then disappeared through the same doors Doctor Strange went through earlier. Peter turned back to Tony’s room and pushed the doors open, stepping inside. He didn’t know what to expect, though he knew Tony would be hurt. It didn’t make it any easier to see him, though.

He looked frail on the bed, against the stark white blanket and sheets. The skin of his neck was still charred and angry looking, his arm was missing, but that wasn’t what caught Peter’s eye. It was the little girl who was curled up on the bed, a mop of dark hair surrounding her head. Her feet were bare, and she was in pajamas with a cartoon rendition of the Hulk dotting them. She didn’t stir when Tony shifted, lifting his head to take in Peter. A smile spread across the man’s face, making wrinkles at the corner of his eyes.

“Hey,” Tony breathed, and Peter found himself moving toward the bed, his gaze darting between Tony and the little girl on the bed. Up close, he could see the relation. She looked so much like Tony.

“Hey, Mr. Stark, if now’s not a good time—” he gestured to the sleeping girl.

Tony shook his head with a little laugh. “Now’s just fine. She’s due to wake up soon anyway. Besides, she’d never forgive me if she missed a chance to meet her brother.”

Her brother, the words did something funny to his stomach. He looked back at Tony, and he knew tears were forming in his eyes. He couldn’t believe how close he had come to losing Tony, and now, seeing the little girl curled up the bed, he realized she could have lost her father, too. They were all lucky to still have him in their lives.

Tony shifted in the bed, nudging the little girl’s shoulder. She scrunched her face up and wiggled her toes before big brown eyes opened and latched onto Peter. A smile spread across her face, and she looked at Tony and then back to Peter. She pushed herself up.

“Are you—are you my brother?”

Peter blinked, looking at Tony and then back to the little girl. “Yeah, I guess I am. Are you Morgan?”

She nodded, looking serious for a moment. “Daddy said you were gone, but he brought you back.”

“Yeah, he did. Your daddy’s a hero.”

She considered. “Then so are you. Daddy says you saved cats.”

“Sometimes.” He started to smile a little.

She nodded her head. “You like juice pops?”

“Grape is my favorite,” Peter said, his smile growing. “What’s yours?”

“Red. I don’t like the yellow ones.”

Peter laughed. “I’ll try to remember that.”

Her mouth twisted, and her brow wrinkled in the same way Tony’s did when he was working out a problem. “If your feet are sticky, how do you get your socks off?”

Tony started shaking in laughter, and Peter just stood there, looking at the precious bean that was Morgan and wondering how he ever existed without her. He nodded a few times, keeping his face sober as he answered, “Very carefully.”

She narrowed her eyes, considering him. She picked up her book from the bed and held it out. “Can you stick to this?”

Peter smiled, reaching out and sticking his palm to it, pulling away to show it clinging to his open hand. He gave it a shake to show it wasn’t going anywhere.

Seeming satisfied, she nodded. “You should meet Gerald. You can’t ride him, though. He doesn’t like it.”

Peter looked at Tony, setting the book back on the bed. “Gerald?”

“Alpaca.” Tony shrugged, wincing a little at the motion. “What can I say? I can’t say no to my kids. Though don’t get any ideas. Gerald is enough alpaca for one family.”

“Mommy pretends she doesn’t like him, but sometimes she sneaks him apples.” Morgan tilted her head, a line between her brows. “Can you teach me to catch bad guys?”

Peter’s brows went up and looked at Tony, who was subtly shaking his head. “Um … I’m not sure that’s really a good idea. Maybe I can teach you to do a cartwheel instead?”

Her lips pursed, and then she nodded. “Okay, deal, but when I get bigger, we can catch bad guys together and rescue cats! I want to save cats like you.”

Peter laughed. “We can definitely rescue some cats, maybe a dog or two, too.”

“Okay.” Morgan looked up at Tony and then carefully laid over him. Her father wrapped his arm around her. “Daddy, is he going to disappear again?” she spoke against his chest. “I don’t want him to go.”

Tony shook his head, looking at Peter. “No one is taking either of you away—not if I can help it.”

“So, we can keep him?” she asked.

“Yeah, we can keep him.”

[keelywolfe]

Drabble: The Great Outdoors (baon)

Summary: There are two ways to enjoy the outdoors, Stretch's way and the wrong way.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Thorough testing led Stretch to conclude that there were two ways to truly enjoy the outdoors.

There was Stretch’s way; lying back in a lounge chair, a cool glass of lemonade on one side with his smokes snuggled up close and his lighter on top of the pack, alongside a pair of sunglasses that did exactly nothing to protect their eye lights from sunlight, but were very important for the aesthetic, thank you. Add in a pair of shorts and a tank top that declared you were, ‘Feelin’ Beachy’, and the outdoors was yours.

Then there was the other way—

“Stretch? Come out front with me?”

Stretch pried open a socket and let his head loll in Edge’s direction. He was wearing shorts and he was a skeleton, and that was about as far down the path to true outdoor enjoyment that Edge ever traveled. The only decoration on his t-shirt was dirt that matched his gardening gloves, and his wide brimmed hat might have an aesthetic, but it was sure as hell on the opposite side of the spectrum as a pair of cool shades, possibly falling off the end down into the category that Undyne lovingly called, ‘nerd’.

Getting him to lounge around in a lawn chair was only likely if Stretch sat on him to keep him there and as tempting as that sounded, the neighbors could only forgive so much.

What Edge did have was a muted sort of excitement and Stretch sighed. Yeah, okay, passion trumped lazy. He heaved himself to his feet to go see what his nerd husband wanted.

They made it through the gate before Stretch asked, “where are we going?”

“Not too loud,” Edge cautioned.

“uh, okay.”

He followed where his baby led up to the front yard, the world’s shortest parade. Over by the side of the house were some bushes with lavender flowers, aptly named in Stretch’s mind as those bushes with lavender flowers. Edge stopped them a few feet away and silently urged Stretch to sit on the grass, following him down.

“All right, now here is the most difficult part.” Edge pulled Stretch back to sit between his legs, wrapping his own long limbs overtop Stretch’s and his arms around him. Caged in bones, hmm, this’d be more fun with some more privacy and a lot less clothes. “You need to be still.”

“I can be still!” Stretch whispered loudly and he did not wriggle when he said it, thank you. Not much, anyway.

“Of course you can,” Edge said in that tone of voice that said clearly they both knew Edge was humoring him. “This is only a precaution.”

It was hard to stay grumpy when you were tucked into the arms of the person you loved, but Stretch gave it a good college try, managing to whip up a fairly impressive sulk by the time Edge’s mouth brushed lightly against the side of his skull.

Very softly he whispered, “Watch.”

Watch what, Stretch almost asked, seriously, if Edge brought him out her to bond with the greenery, this sulk was going to graduate as valedictorian into a full-fledged pout. Then he heard it, a soft rustling coming from the ‘bushes-of-lavender-flowers.’

He squinted, trying to lean in for a better look but held back by Edge’s arms, and that was when he saw it.

The tiniest bunny in existence crept out from the bushes. A ball of fluff that paused just outside the concealing branches, wee little ears perking up as it listened for threats like the loud squeal that Stretch barely managed to stifle behind his own hands. As he watched, two other bunnies hopped out next to their braver (or more foolhardy) brethren. The three of them hopped around the base of the bushes, pausing occasionally to munch on any particularly tasty bits of clover.

Stretch had no sense of time as to how long they sat there together watching the baby buns, but by the time the little ones returned home into the safety of lavender-dappled branches, his bones were stiff from struggling to keep still. Once the last tiny cottonball tail disappeared into the green, Edge loosened his arms and let him go. For about as long as it took for Stretch to turn around and fling himself back into them, holding his love tightly because Edge brought him to see bunnies.

Edge didn’t usually laugh out loud, a rough chuckle was about as far as he got, so people probably thought he didn’t laugh much at all. People were wrong because people didn’t get to hold Edge close, didn’t get to feel the vibrations of the laughter that was caught in his rib cage, held back much the same way he’d held Stretch.

That was okay, Edge held back his laughter for about the same reason he held back Stretch. Some things needed to stay hidden until they felt safe to come out.

He squeezed Edge tightly, absorbed the feel of that silent laughter, then drew back to look at him, the better to see the soft pleasure in his crimson eye lights, my dear.

“i love you,” Stretch told him softly, simply, and the neighbors could deal with a little kissing, even if it was trending towards the exuberant side.

His way of enjoying the outdoors was still better, but eh, there was room for detours on the path.

-fin

[geometricalien]

oh dear i'm super duper late but I have a lot of questions about your wips!! I wanna know more about sick Akashi, nekoma pirate crew, BoKuroo/BokuAka midsommer, Pining + Jacket, The truth burns and destroys, feeling good, Punk Noya, Strawberry Blonde, sunspot and the merman au!!! Thanks babe <333

Hi Vee!!! This is it, I spent wayyyyy too long on this, I think my finger is cramping from typing. But thank you for asking, I love sharing my ideas, sorry if it’s incorherent.

This is super long so it’s under the cut, saving people room

Sick Akashi 

So, it’s based off of a line prompt “I’d like it if you’d stay” and as the title suggests, 3rd year Akashi gets sick, sorry Vee it’s not fatal, Furihata comes to Rakuzan to check on his friend after he doesn’t answer his phone. The entire premise is Akashi works himself sick with his various responsibilities he takes on as “perfectionist who can’t show any cracks at all”. I don’t want Bokushi Akashi showing up so it’s minus the mental break elements. (also technically in canon terms it's after they have merged so yeah) I feel like they deserve a cute little “nurse” the other from a sickness ficlet. And… maybe… sick Akashi confesses…….. It’s almost a writing challenge for me because Akashi has a more polite sophisticated way of thinking and speaking, so cough yep

The rest are Haikyuu aus so buckle in

NEKOMA PIRATE CREW 

Admittedly this is more loose, less of a solid idea. It’s Yaku centric, and how he went from a merchant from his grandfather’s company searching for lost merchandise and became the first mate who keeps track of the ship's finances and keeps their captain Kuroo on track. Other things of note, he meets Kuroo first as a pirate on another ship who stole his merchandise, Kenma is a sea witch (is that science or magic? That's always the question), and about halfway through the adventure they get Lev on board as a new member. So yeah! Kinda a fetch quest but on of my favorite fanfics is legitimately a fetch quest so it's okay fjdkaljf

BoKuroo/BokuAka Midsommer

This is based off of a fanart by desdelasombra my friend Shayla showed it to me and we threw this idea around together, we really don’t want to write it but it's also spectacular. So it's the movie Midsommar, right? Bokuto is a “gatherer” bringing his friends to come join in his village’s rituals. But we didn’t want anyone to die (except for Kenma sorry he’s dead as the substitute for the main character’s sister), so a grieving Kuroo comes with his boyfriend Bokuto, joined by their friends the smart studious and jaded Oikawa and bright bubbly Hinata. Obviously the three react badly to the first ritual and Bokuto doesn’t understand because for him it’s always been a joyful experience and he wanted to share it with his friends. A Lot of things happen, but most important is Akaashi and Kuroo dancing under the may pole together. BokuAka was in the past when Bokuto was home so part of this is them coming together as poly and escaping the final scene of the movie. Again this is very painful but that art is beautiful and the world is better for it being created

Pining + Jacket (KuroLev)

Again this is a line prompt about lending a jacket because it’s cold and it had so much potential for pining and who is the most pining bastard that I know? LEV and Shayla told me about KuroLev and somehow this happened. It’s currently going to be a sequence of drabbles of Lev pining after Kuroo, what else could you ask for? Uh? Lev confessing to Kuroo and them going out??? Sorry I can’t hear you over the exquisite angst and pain of one sided love that I want to explore

The truth burns and destroys

GOOD CHOICE, I began this on saturday night and it has earned a very special place in my heart. Sometimes I fear that my writing is like a lazy pool, sure it's nice and easy and smooth but there isn’t an intensity or raw emotions, BUT THIS this accomplishes what I want. And I’m really glad, its metaphor and imagery heavy but it really captures their emotions and thoughts without it sounding like I’m a 7th grader writing my first fanfiction glances to my abandoned wips from that time. Okay, Vee, I am a glutton for punishment and angst and I choose to pursue cheating fics. But specifically where and how they build the relationship up again after finding out. So, I was reading a KageHina cheating fic and how the character’s reacted felt off somehow so at midnight I wrote this snippet to fullfill my craving, you know what they say the best fanfiction is self indulgence. Here is a short excerpt,

He wants to brush this aside and continue their lives. He wants to wake up next to Tobio and still be seen the same way. He doesn't want anything to change. 

Tobio is his favorite book. He has read it time and time again. Highlighting, underlining, cherishing. So Shouyou is able to read the silent begging in his eyes. The right clenched fist. 

"Shouyou," a deafening pause "What is this?"

Please lie to me.

…

It stretches on. The eternity of silence. They sit together holding on to the last hope they have. Shouyou memorizes those beautiful hands, each crease and bump. Hands that helped shape him become who he is and that reached out unwaveringly. 

Tobio sighs a world ending sigh. 

Shouyou was the one who created their world, it's only fitting that Tobio is the one who destroys it.

In summary I like angst, I want to feel something 

Feeling good

AAA, okay uh, This is a BokuAka pop star au. Akaashi sings “feeling good” at a big charity event hosted by Akashi (... yes I am AkaFuri trash and I can and will sneak them in anything and everything I write) while he is singing he walks down a big staircase remembering moments in his relationship with Bokuto, how much they have grown and how much he loves him. I love the concept! But I tried to write smut in the beginning of it and OOF THATS A NO. I actually have the majority of it written but I do want to add more emotions and thoughts (the lazy pool writing) and make it Ao3 friendly because I have all of the lyrics for feeling good in it as “post signs” for what he sings and that’s against their rules. 1 major aspect of this fic is it's all leading up to the point where Akaashi says “I love you” for the first time to Bokuto after finishing the song, on stage, in front of everyone and on every screen broadcasting it.

Punk Noya

I have a love for feral boys, especially feral alternative punk boys (and girls and humans) so this whole idea is that Noya goes to another school for high school, embraces more punk aethsetics, and on the first day of the preliminary tournaments he hears the rumors about a high schooler in a gang, getting up to nasty things, and he decides to confront them. He finds Asahi, rants him out and leaves. The plot then follows canon, at the winter tournament Karasuno faces Dateko, Karasuno loses even more badly because Noya isn’t there. Asahi quits volleyball, BUT Asahi and Noya run into each other at the store and talk leading to friendship which leads to romance. Idk man, I want more punk haikyuu characters, it gives me life. Alt Yamaguchi is my favorite but onwards we go

Strawberry Blonde

!!!! So this is Mitski’s song and to give a vague idea this is a pining Kageyama fic where he tries to pull away from Hinata and that back fires. (I  do have more to say but I’ve been typing this for over an hour and I’m getting really tired fjkdaljl) There is one paragraph that I love, so here it is! Kageyama and Hinata are practicing by themselves outside of school and they are playing pepper (its a volleyball warm up practice routine where you partner up with someone pass, set, and spike the ball to each other sesquentially) Hinata goes to spike the ball and for a moment Kageyama sees it, 

They are at nationals and they made it to finals. The crowds are screaming, but everything except the court is thrown into shadows. They are at match point of the final set. Everything is at peak intensity and at the center is him. Flying in the air. Orange hair waving with the momentum. His loud take off echoing in the gym. Arm poised for the kill. Eyes sparking with ferocity and passion as he aims. And finally, tipping the world over is the loud slap of his hand, sending the ball to the far side of the court-

This was actually going to be finished and posted in time for Haikyuu season 4 coming out and the manga wrapping up.... clearly I failed my goal fjdaklfj

Sunspot

You don’t know this about me but I love royalty aus, and this is BokuAka Prince Akaashi and Knight Bokuto. This was a short snippet of this grand idea I have for them where they run away from Akaashi’s inherited destiny together. It has potential to be really wide and expansive with the differnet teams as different kingdoms (AGAIN ILLUSION OF CHOICE, that fic really influences me doesn’t it fjdskalj) But this was a short glance at Akaashi taking a break from studying and watching Bokuto and the other knights practice duel. The title comes from the fact that Bokuto is a sunspot in Akaashi’s life, and his day is substantially better basking in his golden shining light.

Merman au

I’m so glad you asked about this and its technically the one I’ve written the most for since it's actually the one I posted on my haikyuu writing side blog. But brief recap, long term it’s a BokuAka little mermaid au but instead of a sea witch it’s an underwater deity who makes “wishes” (it's a deal) with every royal who is born. And Akaashi has a lot of siblings: Ushijima, Oikawa, Suga, Terushima, and Hinata, and its in that order. So I have information on every sibling’s deal, what they wish for, what they give for it, what happens to them in the future, romantically and otherwise. But, this is the one I haven’t updated in over a year, I am working on it!! I’m currently on Koushi’s (suga’s) wish/deal, its just taking forever. If you want to learn more about it I’ll link it in parts  1  2  3  4

BUT I will work on Suga’s part and then Terushima’s and then to the meat of the idea with Akaashi. 

If you have made it this far, thanks, you are cool as always. My brain and fingers is ded. 

[bugaboowritings]

Punk!Marinette - A Short Drabble-

Marinette Helps Adrien out of a Tree

 I have been going down holes as I avoid spoilers. Even found my unfinished writing about Punk! Marinette just had to polish it up. Inspired from art under the punk Marinette tag and @musicfeedsmysoul12 who wrote some things on this au. 

Also I’m slowly posting my work at ao3 to make it easier to find, my username is bugaboo0scrambles for anyone interested. 

Marinette clicked her tongue with satisfaction. Admiring her work with her mirror. With years and years of practice, applying winged eyeliner still seems like a game of Russian roulette. Going perfectly amazing or making her say “screw it” before giving herself a smoky eye to cover it up the ‘step-sisters’ she painted on her lids. Yet, it was a part of her routine, something she kept since that summer ago spent watching strangers talk about products and brushes.

The laces on her boots drew out the gap between leather and skin as if it was a long sign. Marinette tugged on her laces tighter before reaching a fixed level of security. Fitting in like a second skin. Her hand smoothed over her slick new shoes, relishing its aesthetic allure and not helping the snicker that came up her throat. The heels on this pair were a whopping 3 and a half inches. Nothing major compared to the other shoes on display in the market, but it was enough to give her the needed height to make her a pinch taller then Alya.

With that, she carefully went down the stairs. Watching her step as she got comfortable to the new height. Accepting her death only twice while she barely caught herself from tumbling down the stairs.

Stuffing the long laces into the inside of her boots before making it out of the backdoor of the house. Her hand on the doorknob, other on her hip. Calling out to her parent goodbye as the front of the bakery buzzed with customers.

Nibbled on her maroon-stained lips before checking the trash can. Emptying it to before her parents forgot about it.  

The fresh air outside was mixed with the sounds of cars and that horrible unidentifiable “alley smog” rushing to her head. Pushing the plastic bag out the doorway and into the alley. Stepping out before her dad escaped the customers to plot a kiss on her daughter’s head. His beard carried traces of flour while his apron was clean except the splash of fruit-filling by his knee. Wishing Marinette good luck at school before he rushed to get more ingredients as her mother yelled from the front to take care.

Marinette lightly swept her bangs to get rid of her father’s messy, flour kiss. All while her nose crinkled at the smell of day-old eggshells and butter wrappers. Holding her breath and feeling her wrist twist as she opened the dumpster to throw in the trash. Not helping the gag that came up as the garbage smelt of sun-baked vomit cookies. Letting go of the metal lid causing it to slam shut. If her caffeinated tea didn’t wake her up, then that harsh sound did. Even scaring off the black cat that slept peacefully before screeching off into the street.

-----

“How lame.” Chloe scoffed. Rolling her head like a rag doll as she raised her sunnies from her clear-blue eyes. Her nails, done and polished, flicked the lone blonde strand over her ear.

“Nice shoes, Mari!” She yelled. Booming her voice through the quad. “Matches the whole clown suit too!”

Marinette flipped her off without even looking in her direction. Making her way to the other end of the school to meet up Alya. The one classmate that could manage a conversation with her without being intimidated.

Alya typed swiftly on her keyboard without bothering to look at the keys. A skill that Marinette envied and Alya swore to be like second nature after months of drafting sharp observations over comics, movies and Paris local heroes on her blogs. She sported the denim jacket Marinette decorated for her with patches and pins all with a khaki pleated skirt. Topping it off with her very own white-tee. Her new merch, a commission by Marinette, for her Ladyblog.  

“Alya.”

“Marinette.”

Marinette threw her bag under her before lifting her ankles to cross her legs. Rocking back and forth, waiting for the typing to slow down. Once it did, it reached a sudden stop.

Alya sighed and saved her work before tugging her bag on her lap. Sliding her laptop out of harm’s way.

“I got a new scoop last night.” Alya grinned. Relaxing into her seat. Crossing her glossy legs.

“You will never believe what I saw, girl!” Jumping on Marinette as stars lit up in her eyes. A quick transition from her blank expression earlier. Marinette, knowing where this was going, played dumb.

“Let me guess,” Mari hummed, narrowing her eyes at nothing in the distance. Only to get spooked when Alya shook her.

“AHH! I can’t wait! Just let me tell you!!”

Smirking at the journalist. Alya, as if her tongue was on fire, spit on her amazing story.

There she, in the middle of the night, getting a drink of water. Like how she always did when she was staying up late for an article. Only to hear a loud noise outside. Assuming it’s an Akuma before considering the idea of an earthquake happening in the middle of Europe or a plane crash. Incentively fishing for her phone to see the most amazing sight ever. The greatest thing to hit theaters in its time. The most inspiring and jaw-dropping things to ever live in black and white. The scaly, creepy Godzilla! Stomping out the streets of Paris in the dead of night. Apartments lights flicked on as the beast strolled through the street. Holding in its roars as it tossed its tail. Missing a building by a hair. With a “zip” and a “wow”, the Parian hero duo leaped neighborhoods and buildings. Chat Noir tossed his baton in the air, saving Ladybug by the fraction of second from being dino-chum as she twirled up into the air. Ladybug’s yo-yo looped around the monster swiftly with her momentum, tripping the beast toward the bottom of the Eiffel tower. With Chat Noir’s cataclysm ready, Ladybug called on her lucky charm and-  

“- and Agreste at 10.” Alya murmured. Watching Adrien come through the front door with Nino by his side. Laughing at each other as they look back to Nino’s phone. Marinette turned around, groaning- knowing this morning routine too well. Trying to make herself seem smaller as she pushed back her shoulders. Hoping to go under notice. Already feeling his lime-green eyes on her back.

“I’ll be hiding in a tree or at the art studio, whatever I reach first.” Already grieving the loss of a perfectly good morning. “Text me if you need me.”

“See ya.” Alya waved. Slumping back to the bench as Marinette rushed away in the opposite direction of Adrien.

-----

“Marinette!”

“Agreste.”

“Ah. . .Come here often?”

Marinette had to stop the snort that came up her throat. Being a second late as a small chuckle left her lips. Having to shut down her face to not give Adrien the fuel to keep going. Bring back that dull expression as she watched Adrien struggle a little bit more.

“I don’t usually come here, but if I do I’m not dangling out of trees.”

“Uh,” Agreste hummed. Unsure what to say as he felt the tingling of blood rushing to his head competed with the deep blush that appeared on his cheeks. Or maybe that was just the pain of his blood rushing to head. Yeah, maybe it was the blood rushing to his head. 

On the bright side, however, it made it harder to see if he’s blushing.

“I’m practicing my tree climbing. . . ?” He smugly answered. 

“Practicing,” Marinette repeated. Letting that lame reason melt on her tongue before she even thought of accepting it. Crossing her arms as she stuck her leg out. Her heel rocked back and forth on the dirt. Creating a little hole as she thought this over.

“I’m not one to try and get into someone’s business-”

“You’re not getting in my business. I MEan, I-I don’t mind you asking about it. .!”

Marinette kissed her teeth. “Right . . . “

Biting her lips as she left out a long sigh. Pitching the bridge of her nose, the click on her rings hitting her septum piercing. She’ll regret this, she knows it already. She just had to humor him, even if it was a little longer.

“So Agreste. I would hate to bother this,” Marinette motioned. Her hands raised up and down and around. “But you seem like you need help? Do you need help to get down?”

“. . .Actually, yeah.”

----

“Why is Marinette pulling Adrien out of a tree?” Alix questioned. Pointing out the window when Alya and Mylene came over. Her finger covering the odd scene outside.

The three girls press their faces up the glass as they watched the commotion outside unfold.

“It looks like Marinette is shoving him in a tree to me...” Alya mumbled. Squinting her eyes before she removed her glasses. Rubbing them quickly against her shirt before pushing them back up her face.

Mylene bit her thumb, “Do you think we should go and help them? Maybe they-”

A muffled thump hit the ground. A puff of dirt rising in the air, covering the teens outside. Coughing as they waved the dust away. Marinette smoothed the dirt off her jacket as Adrien groaned.

“I think they’re fine.” Alya hummed. Returning to her notebook.

“Okay, so what did you get for question seven?”

[saturn-in-autumn]

BRO your art and writing are both so good ajsbsjjs can I request a danny reveal to valerie? I would assume this would be a small drabble prompt but I'll let you choose how to do it and if you even want to do it in the first place whoops

ASDFGJHJK Thank you so much! 

Omg, first off I am SO SO Sorry this took me so long to get back to you! It’s actually so bad... But I finally finished your request!! It took me a while to figure out how to phrase everything and get my head around it but I ended up getting a little carried away in the end, I’m sorry... 

So here it is I suppose! I’ve also posted it to Ao3 here if you’d like to have a look, but it’s also under the cut if you want to read it on here! 

Thank you so much for your patience, I only hope it was kind of worth it? Idk. I ended up writing a short story/one shot rather than a drabble haha, I just didn’t expect it to get so long!  And thanks for the request idea! 

- Fire and Water -

Valerie sometimes thought Danny was like water.

He was so perfectly clear somehow, an undisturbed lake shining in the moonlight. His iridescent blue eyes sometimes felt like they could see right through her, somehow sense exactly how she was feeling, understand her deepest secrets.

That eerie calmness rippled and cascaded through him, so clear and tranquil, yet so incredibly dangerous.

He had a depth that terrified her to no end, a feeling that if she dove down too deep he would overflow, drown her with his power. As if his little lake held all the fierce might of the sea.

(In which Danny has a secret to tell Valerie, but doesn't quite know how to go about it)

“Ugh, what am I supposed to do Tuck?” Danny groaned, resting his head on his elbows in the grimy corner booth.

Tucker shrugged, patting his back awkwardly in what he hoped was a comforting manner. “I don’t know man, I don’t have a murderous ghost-hunter for a girlfriend.”

Danny sighed, looking forlornly across the crowded restaurant of the Nasty Burger. Valerie was still standing by the till, laughing with some customer as she took their order. She was gorgeous even in the grease-stained yellow of the fast food uniform. Silently Danny watched as she tucked a stray strand of dark hair out of her eyes and looked away. He was such a loser.

“Hey… but then again, it’s not really our decision to make.” Sam’s voice cut through Danny’s musings and he looked up at her dolefully. “Whether or not you want to share it with her is up to you.” She took another slurp of her slushie and frowned. “I thought you had sworn not to. Why the sudden change?”

Danny looked away, straightening to peer out the window at the passers-by on the street. “I don’t know… I just feel… like it’s wrong to keep lying to her is all…” Danny could feel Sam and Tucker’s eyes on him as he sighed again, “Look, we’ve been going out for almost a year… That’s, like more than I’ve ever been in a relationship my whole life! Plus, even if she doesn’t know it, I know her secret, but she doesn’t know mine, I can’t help feeling like I’m cheating on her or something weird like that…”

“Danny…” Sam started but he continued.

“But at the same time, I’m terrified that if she finds out she’ll hate me y’know? Like… I don’t want to lose her in the process…”

“Look Danny, as the current female representative at the table.” Sam said, placing her drink firmly on the table to look at him in the eyes, “I can safely say that telling the truth is probably your best option. If she finds out and it’s not from you, it’ll probably hurt her a lot more than just coming clean.”  

Tucker nodded, “You know, Sam’s right, if you really care about her what’s the worst that could happen?”

“The worst is that she’ll shoot an ecto-blast through my chest faster than I can say ‘Sorry’.” Danny moaned. “Or she’ll tell my parents or something… Then I’d really be dead meat.”

“And the best-case scenario is that she doesn’t mind.” Sam said with an eyebrow raised. “I’m sorry Danny, but if you guys really care about each other then keeping secrets probably shouldn’t be on the table. Valerie has a right to know if you’re hiding things from her, chances are she’ll figure it out sooner or later. Her aim’s getting better by the day.”

Danny winced, rubbing his upper forearm where the burn mark still stung.

Sam’s eyes softened and she reached over, taking his hand gently, “Danny I honestly think that anyone who knows you, the real you, won’t hate you no matter what you are. The real test is whether or not you think you can trust her enough to tell her and get away with it. She’s still the Red Huntress after all. I wouldn’t take this decision lightly.”

Danny nodded but smiled. “Would you guys mind though?”

Tucker blinked, “Dude, we’re your friends. If you want to date the most dangerous ghost-hunter in Amity Park we have your back. As Sam said, it’s you’re secret to share with whoever you want.”

Danny closed his eyes and stared at the ceiling, “Thanks guys…” he mumbled, glancing over to where Valerie was once again. It looks like she was packing up. “I think I’ll try and tell her tonight…”

At that Tucker’s eyes widened, “Wait, really? Like you don’t want to think about this a little more before you run in guns blazing?”

Danny blinked at him, “Well, I know it’s a little brash sure, but the sooner I do it the sooner I can sleep easy right? Whether she hates me or not I’ll at least know.”

Sam sat back, “You heard the man Tuck, if he’s stubborn enough he’ll do it.”

“Hey!” Danny said, sounding offended, “Okay maybe I’m not 100% on it, but I’ll feel better if I’m not lying to her. Besides…” He smiled slightly, “We’d kinda already had a date planned for tonight. I might as well make use of it…”

As if on cue Valerie walked over, she’d thrown a dark green jacket over the orange of her uniform that perfectly complimented her eyes. “Hey!” she said, arm raised and smiling, “You ready to go?”

“You bet!” Danny laughed, sliding past Tucker and leaving his money on the tray, “I’ll… talk to you guys later then?” He offered and Sam winked.

“Go get em’ tiger.”

Danny grinned, giving Valerie a quick peck on the cheek and the thumbs up to Tucker before the two of them walked out of the restaurant.

***

When they were gone Sam’s lips quirked into a smile, “He’s gonna die.” She chuckled, taking another slurp of her drink as she sat back in the booth.

“Wait what?” Tucker asked swinging his saucepan-sized eyes to her in disbelief, “What was all that about ‘accepting who you are’ then?”

Sam eyed him across the table, “You kidding? Valerie’s gonna stomp his heart into pieces with five-inch high stilettos, but even then, I doubt she’ll hate him for it.”

Tucker sighed and took another bite of his burger, “I don’t know. It’s just odd he has this sudden conviction to tell her everything. It’s a pretty big deal is all.”

Sam shrugged, “Yeah, but then again I guess it’s just a sign of how much she means to him. After all, he told us pretty soon after it y’know… happened…”

“Yeah but that’s different, we’re his best friends and you’re one of the main reasons he got his ghost powers in the first place. Plus, Valerie hated his guts on principle back then because she was still with the A-Listers… now she just hates him for different reasons…”

She scowled at him, but nodded, “Well then fine. Maybe he just wants to take their relationship up a notch. I don’t know why you’re having such a hard time with this Tucker, if Danny wants to go blabbering about his powers to people, he has his reasons for it. Despite appearances he’s not that much of an idiot to get caught by his parents or the GIW.”

“I know it’s just…”

“Ohhh,” Sam grinned, cutting Tucker off with a shit-eating grin. “Oh, I see, you’re jealous.”

“What!” Tucker shrieked, “Am not!”

“You’re jealous that Danny is opting to bring someone else in on the team, this was the same thing with Jazz! You’re too proud to admit that you like being a sidekick.”

“What!? Never. I’m Danny’s guy-in-the-chair! His wingman! His Q to his 007! It’s not like Valerie could—”

“Oh yeah totally, the Red Huntress with an arsenal of weapons and ghost-hunting experience would never take Tucker Foley’s precious slot as the guy-in-the-chair.”

“Fuck’s sake Sam.” Tucker spat, “I’m not jealous, and fine then, I don’t care who the hell Danny goes and talks to. Are you happy?”

“Ecstatically.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck me yourself coward.”

“I hate you so much…”

“I know. So… you down for Doomed later?”

He shrugged, standing up and throwing a few notes on the table, “Sure. I’ll catch you around 9.”

***

Danny hadn’t planned for this at all.

He mentally slapped himself as he and Valerie walked to the movie theatre, absentmindedly chatting as best he could about her day. The street was almost deserted at this time in the afternoon, couples walking to and from places, laughing as they held hands. Danny smiled. They were all so… alive.

Valerie said something and Danny watched her out of the corner of his eye. Her breath clouding in front of her face before hugging her jacket closer to her body and cupping frozen hands around a fresh cup of coffee to keep warm.

Amity Park in autumn was both beautiful and freezing with the golden brown and red of leaves staining the paths and parks like wounded soldiers on the fields of battle.

He would have shivered if he could.

As it was Danny looked away, the cold didn’t really seem to affect him in the same way anymore. A pang of guilt struck his chest as Valerie laughed at something, she sounded so happy. If only she knew who she was walking with…

After the movie, he vowed, after the movie I’ll tell her. She deserves to know.

“Hey! Are you even paying attention?” She asked and he blinked, startled out of his musings.

“Uh yeah, sure… what did you say again?”

She sighed throwing her hands up in exasperation, “Honestly, you can be so… distant sometimes. What the heck goes through your head anyways? Stuck in the stars again NASA boy?”

Danny laughed, “I guess you could say that…” Was he really that obvious?

“Well, I asked, what do you want to see?”

“Oh right!” Gazing up at the selection he paused, “I…” he bit his lip, his mind going blank, it didn’t feel right to choose… “I don’t mind, how about you pick?”

She looked at him sideways, “Man you’re acting jumpy today.” A gleam caught in her eye and Danny gulped, “How about a horror?”

“Uh well… if that’s…” Danny stumbled over his words.

“Great! Glad that’s decided. I want to get really scared tonight, two tickets to your most horrifying film my good sir!” She chimed to the guy behind the counter.

The guy looked them up and down but shrugged, “Cinema 5, have fun.”

***

Danny wasn’t really paying attention through the film.

Guilt was eating away at him, gnawing at the edges of his subconscious as Valerie laughed and jumped at the loud noises and crappy special effects that Hollywood perceived ghosts to be. Danny smiled absently, they really had no clue how wrong they were compared to the real thing.

She held his hand in the gentle darkness of the cinema, and Danny couldn’t help but look at her in the faint light from the screen. Her green eyes glistened with excitement and curiosity, taking in all she saw with such conviction.

He smiled, she was light, warm and comforting. Even as she gripped his ice-cold skin Danny couldn’t help but admire her. She laughed when she felt like it, got angry when she felt like it, smiled and danced in her own brilliant warmth. Danny’s eyes softened as he leaned into her touch, savouring this moment. Feeling her heartbeat through her skin.

She was dazzling.

Danny pulled away slightly, his eyes narrowing, but she was like fire to his ice. She melted him in ways she could never understand, but he was sure, he was frighteningly sure he was going to burn her irreversibly in the end.

But if that’s the way it had to be, then so be it.

“Hey Val?” He mumbled, leaning further into her shoulder in the gloom of the theatre, feeling her warmth against his cheek. She stopped gazing at the screen and turned to him, her eyes still dancing in that dull luminosity. Danny sighed, letting his dark hair fall into his eyes so she couldn’t see that he was on the verge of tears. “I’ve been… keeping something from you. For a long time now… I just… don’t know how to say it…”

He felt her shift under his weight, and he pulled away, looking in the opposite direction. She was looking at him, he could feel her green eyes taking him in and he felt his heart panged with annoyance. Annoyance at himself, at how weak he was.

“Danny…” Valerie started, and he looked at her, she was smiling softly in the light, “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me anythi—”

“No, you deserve to know. But… maybe in a bit if that’s alright?” He grit his teeth and looked back up at the screen as the final scene began, he smiled sadly locking eyes with her. “I just… want this moment to last a little longer is all…”

***

Valerie sometimes thought Danny was like water.

He was so perfectly clear somehow, like an undisturbed lake shining in the moonlight. His iridescent blue eyes sometimes felt like they could see right through her, somehow sense exactly how she was feeling, understand her deepest secrets.

It was awe inspiring. Like Danny knew exactly where she went when she snuck out of class, knew her connection to ghosts and the other shadows of Amity Park. Knew who she really was.

But he never seemed to care. It was why, she supposed, she was so drawn to him in the first place. The eerie calmness that rippled and cascaded through him, so clear and tranquil, yet dangerously so. Pooling with something else.

A darkness. A depth that terrified her to no end, a feeling that if she dove too deep he would overflow, drown her with his power. As if his little lake held all the fierce might of the sea.

Why did that feeling surface now? That dread that crashed against the shoreline of her heart. Breaking the tension as Danny lead her out of the theatre and into the cool night air. What was this in her chest that felt like the pressure of being unable to breathe?

He laughed at something and Valerie felt a shift in the atmosphere as she looked at him in the light of the street, his blue eyes reflecting something she couldn’t see. Something beyond where they stood outside a bustling theatre.

“I want to show you something,” Danny said, there was a kind of relief to his words, like he’d been daring himself to say them. “But not here.”

He glanced at her and she felt that terrible drowning sense in her chest again as his clear-blue eyes softened in the moonlight. He looked… so sad, like this was somehow the last time she’d ever see him.

Danny stayed silent as they walked, weaving in and around the humdrum of pedestrians and life that flittered around them like moths to a flame.

She let him pull her along, feeling the familiar chill that buzzed between her fingertips of his skin brushing hers. He was so cold, so frozen in time. It gripped at her.

It was only now that she started to watch him in comparison to the people on the street. In his dark, navy jacket and worn jeans he stood out and blended in at the same time. Like he wasn’t meant to be there and was there all at once. It seemed unnatural somehow…

She shook her head, following him across the street to the park, letting the dull glow of the stars guide them along the cracked paths.

What was it he wanted to show her? And why did it feel like an ending and a beginning all at once? Her curiosity ate at her but if Danny was willing to show her, she would be patient.

The park seemed twisted at night time. The trees warped somehow in the dark, green grass glowing blue in the silver light of the moon.

Danny looked around and hurried on, pulling her up the hill to where a small crop of trees nestled between the undergrowth. There was no one around for miles but Danny seemed extra cautious, double and triple checking their surroundings to make sure they weren’t being followed.

“Danny, you’re scaring me you know that.” Valerie finally said, breaking the silence that had hung over them for so long.

He chuckled softly and came to sit next to her, looking out at the twinkling lights of the city spread out below them like a map. A perfect mirror for the stars above.

The throb of life buzzed about them, the shrieking of tyres, the chink of glasses and the laughter of people. The metropolis was a beating heart but here in this secluded tower, they watched it all in silence.

“I’m so sorry Val…” Danny finally said, and she looked at him as he laid back, staring upwards towards the sky. “I feel like I’ve been lying to you, from the very beginning.”

She wanted to interrupt, wanted to tell him what a mysterious jerk he was being and just to cut to the chase, but she said nothing, too entranced by the wandering lights that reflected in his irises.

“The truth is, that I…” Danny’s expression changed slightly, and his teeth gritted together. Whatever it was that he was trying to say to her, Valerie knew that it was probably something major.

“Danny… you don’t—”

“No, I do.” He said, pulling an arm across his eyes so that she couldn’t see him. “I have to tell you; cause otherwise you’re just going to find out from someone else and then I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

He sat up and turned to her, his dark hair framing his face as he gripped her shoulders. Her heart fluttered slightly in her chest; he was crying.

She watched as that perfectly clear water fell from his eyes, carving rivers in his pale skin. She felt something press against her lungs, that fear of drowning, and she opened her mouth to speak.

“I—”

“I love you…” Danny said, cutting her off, his head bowing as she blinked at his words, numbly they settled on her like falling snow as she felt her heart lighten. “I love you so much… That’s why it’s not fair to keep hiding myself, the real me, from you any longer.”

“Danny I—”

“No, Val, please, let me finish.” Danny looked at her and she felt a pang of guilt cross her chest. He smiled, such a sad smile, as he continued. “Val, I love you. I didn’t think I would fall for someone so hard as I do for you… you’re incredible you know that? You’re so strong and dazzling to look at it hurts my eyes.”

She felt her eyes widen but he continued, “Ever since I met you, you’ve shown me time and time again how great you really are. And quite frankly, I don’t think I deserve you. But I wanted to tell you that I love you. Let you know how much you truly mean to me so that you don’t lose sight of who I am.”

Danny looked at her, “I’m an idiot you know that? I’m such a complete and utter loser that I take so much of what I have for granted. Sam and Tucker have always told me so and that’s why I want to stop hiding from you Valerie. Because I care too much for you to continue acting, continue pretending that I’m alright.”

Danny began to shake as he spoke and she shifted closer to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him in close to her as a smile lifted her face. “Hey. Look at me,” he lifted his eyes to hers and Valerie smiled, “You know, if you’re scared to tell me you don’t have to Danny. Cause…” She felt light, “Because I love you too.”

He blinked at her and smiled, “I was afraid of that…”

She laughed, “Oh yeah and why’s that wisecrack?”

He smiled but didn’t laugh. “Because of who… no that’s not right… because of what I am Val.”

She stopped laughing, he was dead serious, she gripped her chest, that tightness was suffocating now. The fun-loving idiot she had fallen for seemed to melt off him as his eyes narrowed, turning to her fully to look at her dead in the eyes. “Val, I don’t want you to think any less of me, I really and truly want us to continue being close, I want to hold your hand and laugh, go see movies and continue living like this with you for the rest of my life…”

Wait. What was he saying? What did he mean by…

“But, Valerie Grey. I can’t keep hiding forever. I brought you here tonight to tell you something about myself that I can’t share lightly with anyone. But you have to promise to trust me, promise me Val. Please promise me that you won’t think any less of me for it and that you won’t tell anyone else... please this is important.”

She felt the pressure in her lungs choking her now, but she nodded, why was she so scared? So utterly terrified that she might lose him? “I promise. I promise, whatever you want to tell me it’s okay Danny. It’s okay, you can tell me…”

Danny smiled and nodded, his shoulder’s sagging as he did so as if all the tension released from him in one motion. Like he had been waiting his whole life to hear those words. “Val… I…maybe it’s easier if I show you instead?”

She blinked but nodded, allowing him to let go of her as she sat back.

Danny looked at her, she was so perfect, sitting there patiently waiting for him to show her what he meant. He closed his eyes and looked to the stars, here goes nothing…

“Val, I’m so sorry…” he whispered, and triggered his transformation.

Valerie watched in mild horror as the light sparked around his mid-section, twin-rings expanding at his waist.

Wait what?

They broke and spilt, traveling over his body slowly as he stood there, changing him.

What’s happening?

Danny sighed at the feeling of relief, the cool sensation of weightlessness taking hold as the rings reached the base of his neck with a rush of adrenaline.

Valerie felt her hands fly to mouth to cover the shriek of shock as Phantom touched down lightly in front of her. His skin glowing in the eclipse of the moon, the black jumpsuit replacing the familiar jeans and jacket Valerie knew so well…

She stumbled, her mind racing a marathon as her heart banged so hard against her chest, she swore it was audible. No. No this couldn’t be right… Danny was… Danny was?

He looked at her with that same sad smile and she allowed herself to gasp. The clear blue of his eyes now glimmering green like emeralds against the sky.

He sunk to his knees and looked away; he’d ruined it hadn’t he? The curling white of his hair intermingling with the evening breeze. Looking down almost resentfully at the snow-white gloves that adorned his hands. “I’m so sorry…” His voice echoed across the space between them and Valerie inadvertently shivered. “I’m so sorry Val…”

Valerie just sat there, staring blankly at the scene in front of her as Phantom… no Danny, hung his head in his hands. She reached out, but paused, no this couldn’t be right… This was all a big misunderstanding, right? A joke?

She pulled her hand back, cupping it against her chest. But it felt so real, so obvious that she mentally cursed herself for being so stupid.

Danny Fenton, Danny Phantom, he’d barely even changed his name. She blinked, observing the shape of his face, the style of his hair, it was all the same, all exactly the same… But even then… Danny couldn’t be a ghost! Surely not… surely… and of all ghosts Phantom? The town hero? Her ultimate enemy? It couldn’t possibly be real; this couldn’t possibly be happening right now…

“You’re probably wondering what happened right?” Valerie snapped her attention towards him as he laughed dryly, the sound was grating, so completely alien to her, “That’s usually the first question I get asked…”

She nodded, she felt so numb.

“It was the Fenton Portal.” He smiled, the white of his hair playing on the breeze like snow, “Mum and Dad couldn’t get it working so I thought it was safe enough to look inside… I… it turned on while I was in there…”

Valerie shuddered, phantom screams of Danny being electrocuted rattling her skull as if she’d been there herself. That was how he’d died? Screaming and alone?

“I’m so sorry Val…” He said again, looking at her, she jolted at the green of his eyes, but he continued, “I’m so sorry you had to find out, but I couldn’t lie to you forever. I just couldn’t keep pretending it was all fine considering our… history…”

A sharp pain rippled through her heart as she realised that he did know. Of course he did. Phantom had known she was the Red Huntress from the beginning, and yet even after every fight they’d had, every insult and curse she’d flung his way… Danny still continued loving her, being around her even then. Even then…

She felt cheated slightly, like he’d known her deepest secret for so long that it wasn’t fair she didn’t know his in return. But she stopped, hadn’t that been the point though? What would she have done if she’d known earlier? What good would it have done to know?

She reached for him cautiously and he flinched as she touched his shoulder. He was so cold, so incredibly cold but she gripped him, feeling the static of ectoplasm under her fingertips as she turned him to her.

His eyes were wide, but she smiled slightly, pulling him down into her, drawing him into a hug.

He was like ice against her, buzzing with electricity and energy that was the only way he could survive. “You’re so stupid you know that?” She felt him twitch slightly against her but she smiled, “I can’t imagine what it was like… what you must go through every day Danny… knowing that there is this side to you that you can’t share with anyone…”

“You’re not scared? Or angry? You don’t hate me, do you?” He sounded so timid, like a frightened child.

She thought about it, sure, she was certainly angry. But not as much as she’d expected, she laughed slightly, she hadn’t planned on this when she finally had Phantom in her grasp.

“Danny… I… don’t think I do… You never told me the truth because I never gave you a reason for it. I was so completely bent on destroying you that I don’t know… I lost sight on what I was fighting… but I’m glad you waited until now to tell me…”

He pulled back from her slightly so she could see his face, “You mean that?”

She nodded, “If I had found out earlier, I might have blasted you to bits. But as it stands… I’m…” she grinned, “I’m really glad I got to know you, Danny Fenton.”

He blinked at her reaction, pulling back further so that they were at eye level. “I…” he started but she pushed a finger to his lips.

“Let me finish loverboy. I believed ghosts were… well monsters. Bent on destroying this world and everyone in it, senseless and unstoppable monsters and nothing more… I never let my guard down, never let anyone see me weak. Until you Danny. I let you in and now, you’ve let me in. And that means so much more than I think you realise. Don’t get me wrong, I’m pretty shocked, and it’s gonna take me a week to digest all of this… but I love you Danny. You, no matter what you are.”

His eyes widened and he laughed, the familiar sound tinkling against her making her smile.

Valerie didn’t exactly know how she found himself in the position she was in next, but all she felt was the soft press of lips against hers and she wrapped her arms tightly around Danny, feeling light as air. She slipped her hands from his waist to over his shoulders, pushing in for the kiss. Danny felt like his world had exploded into stars, she tasted like strawberries and sunlight mixed together in utter happiness. And Valerie smiled against him, he tasted like static but she didn’t care. Danny could’ve stayed like that forever, and he probably would’ve if Valerie didn’t slip her hands off of him and gently push away.

She smiled, the heavy fear had lifted from her chest and she sighed as it dispersed. The clear water moving in it’s wake.

“So what do we do now?” She asked and Danny blinked, smiling softly as he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

He looked to the stars, feeling lighter than ever, “I don’t know.”

“Well, Phantom, how about a truce to begin with.” She winked and Danny laughed, getting to his feet he took her hand and pulled her up with him.

“My my, the Red Huntress herself is offering a ceasefire? I never thought I’d see the day!”

“Oh hush, I can still shoot you.”

He gulped but nodded, a bright smile lighting up his face as he began to float slightly off the ground.

“Not for nothing,” she murmured, eying the space between his feet and the ground warily, “But how about you… uh… what’s the word you use? Switch back? Cause if you walk me home in that state, I think my dad’s gonna have to bring out a little heavier an artillery than a shotgun.”

Danny nodded, touching down without a word, feeling the rings of light split around his waist again as the world held weight once more.

Valerie gasped as Phantom fell away but regained her composure, “Somehow I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that…” she muttered, and he laughed, his blue eyes sparkling.

“Val… I’m… I’m really happy with how tonight went…” Danny grinned as they walked back towards the path, “But you’re sure that you’re okay with this whole… me being Phantom thing?”

She hummed in thought but nodded, “Yeah, but you’re going to have to answer a bunch of questions I have about yourself and the other ghosts. Plus,” she winked at him, “I still expect to be able to fight. Treat me as an equal ghost boy, I refuse to be your sidekick.”

Danny laughed but waved a hand, “Oh don’t worry, I think Tucker wouldn’t talk to me again if I let you have that role.”

“Then that’s settled then… shall we—”

Danny’s breath misted in front of his face and Valerie stiffened as a wave of static swept the park. “Oh no,” she mumbled, a sensor beeping quietly on her watch as she reached for her backpack, flicking the switch on the underside.

He speeder hit the ground and Valerie’s eyes narrowed as she pulled down her hood, snapping the butt of her ecto-gun against her palm as she whirled to Danny.

He was already in fighting mode, the human boy she’d fallen for melting away as the half-ghost hero Phantom stood by her side. Just as a massive, bloated figure rounded the corner ahead of them.

She looked at him a smile playing on her lips, “You ready ghost boy?”

He grinned, “You bet, partner.”

[blarrghe]

Shall We Not Revenge? Ch. 24

I finally wrote something!! This was going to just be a drabble, but now it’s a chapter. A very short chapter that I am posting the entirety of under the cut because it’s been so long since I wrote anything.

I recently broke my Inquisitor’s heart, and fortunately/unfortunately he and Dorian took the leap to start their relationship at pretty much the exact same time. I’ve had it in my notes to write a bit on how that affects things, so this soft bit of drabble quickly became uh,,, sad. On a lighter note, I got to make use of my extensive knowledge of curly hair physics. Ps. Shout out to @midnightprelude for giving me the push I needed to finish this thing. Sorry it got less fluffy, in senses both literary and literal... Read on AO3 or under the cut!

“Mm,” the sound Dorian’s waking mind made in response to Taren’s movement beside him was muffled by pillows at his lips. With eyes still closed he turned his head to breathe in the scent of Taren’s hair, and found it brushing up against his lips, wisping as it did in light, messy locks over Taren’s neck. Dorian shifted a little closer, hooking an arm around his torso and pulling Taren’s body up against his so that he could feel the bones of his hips press against the curve of his back. His hands clutched over his chest and then seemed naturally to drift downward, pulling his torso into place. It fit so perfectly there, pressed snugly up against his own. He leaned his head in and pushed his lips through that soft cloud of tickling, lightly pine-scented hair until they found purchase at the base of his neck, and the kiss he left there fell out of him like instinct, barely conscious and utterly natural.

“Soft.” Another murmur from his still mostly-slumbering mind tumbled out of his mouth as he nudged the delicate locks aside, as he brought a hand up to brush his fingers over the smooth section of hair that had been shaved close and patterned for the ball in Orlais. That night seemed oddly far away now, and Taren hadn’t tended to the intricate hairstyle whatsoever, but the soft fuzz left there betrayed the shortness of time, and Dorian could still feel the light bumps of texture under the stroke of his thumb, playing at his fingertips like embossed velvet.

Taren responded to his sleepy mutterings with one of his own.

“Hmm?” It came with the inflection of a question, as he turned his face and shook the loose hair from where it draped over his forehead and eyes.

“Your hair is so soft.” Dorian muttered the explanation into his neck, his nose still poking through some of it. Soft.

He felt Taren’s laugh rising up through the warm neck under his lips, lightly shaking the body his arms were hung around. The movements pulled him just a little closer to wakefulness, and a little farther away from the uninhibited musings of sleep. He was doing that thing again, he realised as he opened an eye and started to allow daylight and reality to float in, that unguarded thing. Waking up drooling and even a little sweaty - ungroomed, half naked - in another man’s bed, mumbling inarticulate compliments about the softness of hair. No wonder Taren was laughing.

“Thank you,” Taren replied between chuckles. He turned, breaking from the secure mould Dorian had made for him only to press himself back into place, his hands finding their way into his hair now, as though to compare their morning states of unkempt.

“Good morning.”

Dorian opened his other eye as Taren’s fingers delicately swept some of his own hair off his forehead, and as he came into focus, so did his thoughts. Mostly, they were pleasant; grateful observations on Taren’s full lips and bright eyes, and a more fully conscious appreciation of how good his body felt, still connected to him from belly to thigh, how comfortable. A leg shifted to wrap itself over one of his, and he couldn’t help but smile. But there was another thought, too, worming it’s way uninvited into the forefront of his mind: the nagging little voice that berated him for his naivety in being kept so close - in being seen and held and woken up with in such an unmanicured state. For a second, his blissful morning was soured by the thought that he shouldn’t really be there at all, but that he should have at least risen a little earlier, and fixed his hair.

His hair. It was getting long too, going uncared for as it had on the extended trips across the demon-ridden and war torn regions of the south. There was no one to cut hair in Skyhold - at least, no one he’d trust. For one entirely unsympathetic reason, he was beginning to regret not joining Taren on his recent excursion to free the man formerly known as Blackwall from a Val Reauex prison: it would have provided an opportunity to seek out a proper barber. He kept that thought neatly to himself; southerners never seemed to understand the importance of a well-styled appearance.

Taren’s hair tickled his nose again as he nestled deeper into the embrace, and he let his vanity fall aside without even trying to, though that little voice insisted on whispering a new question into his collection of lovestruck anxieties. How might Taren perceive his close attention to appearance? Would he find it tiresome, once the novelty of it all wore off? Look at you, it seemed to say, you’re being vain, and you aren’t even doing it well. Taren’s approach, of course, seemed only to be to keep himself cleaned and sweet smelling, without a single care being given to the rest. It suited him, but there seemed to Dorian to be a certain bravery to that which he did not possess.

But here he was, unkempt and drowsy, spending another morning where he shouldn’t, waking within arms reach of the thing he had told himself he wasn’t allowed to have. His hair was long, and without creams or pomades to keep it in check, and Taren was pushing it out if his eyes, and he was feeling a strangely comfortable uncomfortableness with all of it. Taren’s lips met his forehead, and the voice reminding him that this was a perilous position to be in quieted a little more.

“Good morning.” He returned the greeting as he let his fingers fall through Taren’s hair and graze the length of his smooth cheek, taking the moment to study the little straw coloured flecks that sparkled in the mossy green of his eyes. Dorian leaned in, pulling Taren’s chin gently with one hand and his waist in tight with the other, and kissed him deeply, morning breath be damned. Taren returned the kiss, and he eagerly invited the quickening of his heart that came with it, falling into the all-encompassing sensation of warmth that drove away all his other cares. He let his mind go back to being mostly unconscious, let it go on with uninhibited wanting and appreciation for the softness of hair, of lips, of warm skin on his. His hands moved and he kissed and kissed and rolled Taren over him and pulled and felt and squeezed. Waking up where he shouldn’t, doing that unguarded thing with his thoughts and feelings and actions, keeping the day away for just a minute longer. And Taren kissed him back, dug his hands into his back and squeezed himself into it with his eyes closed and his breath quick, until he didn’t. Two blinks, and a sigh.

Taren was positioned over him when he stopped, blankets tangled about his ankles and morning sun glowing through his wild hair. Dorian’s hands were at his waist, poised to become more than just gentle guides for his hips - ready to reprise the passion of the previous night. Taren rolled off of him, slowing things down with a quick run of his fingers through his hair, which smoothed under them but sprang back in all directions as soon as they were through. Some of the curls broke apart with his fingers, and if anything the mess only grew from the attempted taming. He moved to sit up, looking away with an expression Dorian couldn’t read, but kept his legs wound over his.  

Dorian sat up too, staying close and planting a few more kisses onto his shoulder and neck as he did, then taking his own hands up to the soft tangles sprouting from Taren’s head.

“Sorry, I… um -” Taren gave his head a shake and flashed Dorian half a smile, one that was still lopsided and warm, but sad at the edges. He wondered which weight was holding it down - there were plenty to choose from - but commented on the hair instead. He patted down a lock that had gone particularly upright, tucking it carefully behind his ear and regarding the rest with a smile that bordered on laughing.

Taren caught his amused look and the smile seemed to rise just a little higher. He grabbed a few more locks from their stray places and tried to find them homes behind his ears, but they didn’t stay. Dorian chuckled.

“What - why, what does it look like?” Taren was back to speaking through quiet laughter, and he leaned his shoulder into Dorian’s.

“Magnificent.” Dorian replied, meaning it. Chunks of hair in all directions, some lumped to the side in a cloud of not-quite curls, and some smoothed into a crushed, bent fold where his head had pressed it into his pillow overnight. Some shorter pieces near his forehead stood straight up in little spirals, and the whole coiffure had no discernible part to it, with sections tossed this way and that. It was wild, hilarious in a way and unbearably sexy in another.

“Sometimes I think I should cut it all off.” Taren joked, pulling it all back now. With a few quick flicks of his hands he’d wrangled it into a thick braid, the ends of which still splayed out in haphazard curls and waves, but of a more orderly sort. The short pieces that didn’t make it still stuck up, but for the most part the wildness had been tamed.

“Don’t you dare.” Dorian tugged gently at the braid, pushing Taren’s head toward his own for another kiss. The kiss that Taren returned was full and warm, but as he pulled away the edges of his mouth were reluctant again.

Dorian frowned. “Something on your mind, Inquisitor?” He said it teasingly, hoping for an eye-roll and a playful reprimand, instead he received another sigh.

“Just a lot of work to do.”

Maybe bringing the title into the picture was the wrong choice, as Taren seemed now even more ready to jump up and begin his usual unceasing bustle about the fortress.

“Of course, no rest for the wicked.” Dorian kept his tone teasing, and nipped at his neck with sensual emphasis for wicked.

Taren didn’t take to the opportunity, however, and shuffled his legs out and his body up into still more of an upright seat. He kissed Dorian tenderly, once on the cheek and then softly on the lips.

“I have to get going.” He said apologetically, something dark and unreadable again behind his eyes. Dorian ceased his attempts at temptation and let him rise, watching him as he made his way to the folded piles of clothes on his dresser and hastily threw some on. The drab beiges and browns of wool and leather were a disappointing sight after the glow of tan skin and artful tattoos, but he tried not to let it show on his face.

“If you ever take a break, you know where to find me.” He said, trying to sound casual despite the flutter of his heart. The rejection felt shattering in a way that was utterly unreasonable and almost certainly unfair, but the sneering little voice that had been silenced under soft messy hair and impulsive kisses was screaming at him now,  and it was all he could do to keep it from biting into the tone of his speech as he tried to say something gentlemanly and take his leave.

It isn’t that, he told himself once he’d settled into his own work in a quiet alcove of the library, carrying on a debate with the suspicious voice in his head that insisted that whatever was wrong, he must surely be the cause. It had taken him the better part of the morning to weed out his selfish reactions from the truth. There was plenty to choose from besides his breath or hair or his being an Altus, plenty to worry an Inquisitor which had nothing at all to do with him. The most genuine person he had ever met was telling him that it was the work, and who was he to make it all about himself, anyway?

He sighed, rereading a sentence in the dusty tome before him for the seventeenth time, words tangling about like Taren’s morning hair. Hair that was messy and soft and sexy and wild, but wilder, he knew, because of how he had spent his night tossing and turning in his sleep, restless with some nightmare that crept into their bed even after he woke.

He shook his head at the jumbled words and runes that refused to make sense before him, letting the unhelpful little voice get one last word in. You are good for sex and excitement, not this, it said. You have never opened your heart to anyone, why should he trust you?