#spawned by the realization that if I don’t find normal glasses I like I will end up becoming a sunglasses guy

[theministersdoom]

#spawned by the realization that if I don’t find normal glasses I like I will end up becoming a sunglasses guy #proinsias cassidy #franky four fingers #terminator #doom head #andrew eldritch #agent smith #morpheus #the corinthian #men in black #crowley #dale gribble #holland march #marion cobretti

[totallynotbat]

Naga Phil AU

Prologue: Transform

Relationship is platonic, no tag as ship fic.

Warning: Brief tickles, swearing.

Original AU belongs to @cyncerity, whom gave me the okay.

Within the forest of the SMP, a castle stood in broad daylight, where a dark figure, covered in a hoodie, stood out tall, mixing up something in a small glimmer of a metal pot. Before pulling out a vial and pouring the mixture into the bottle. 

An evil smirk on the figures face. Before it turned and handed it over to a unknown shadowy figure. 

“Now go.” 

And in a leap, the figure was gone.

“Yes, yes I know Tommy!” 

“I’m just saying Phil. Be careful of the Baby Zombies!” 

“If he gets caught in one, I’m blaming you.” 

Philza rolled his eyes as he spoke into the phone. His sons, Tommy, Wilbur and Techno were on the other line. Waiting patiently for Phil to get back. 

The Avian Hybrid sighed with a grin, tipping his bucket hat up a bit. “I know how to defend myself boys!” 

“Just saying dad, in case something happens.” Wilbur spoke up. 

“I’m only 34 guys, Jesus!”

The family continued bickering, when a rustling caught Phil’s attention. 

“Boys quiet!” Phil toned down their arguments. The boys listening carefully. 

“Who’s there?” Phil said angrily. “Come out!” 

A crash of glass left the boys in the house alarmed, followed by the static from the phone. 

“Philza!” Wilbur called out, alarmed.

Phil looked up, seeing the potion on the grass below, coughing a bit before running into the forest, Phil quickly talking into the communications device quickly. 

“Boys if I don’t make it back within a few, come out and see what’s going on.” Within minutes he quickly hung up, leaving the young kids confused and worried. 

Phil ran deeper into the trees, panting a bit and looking back. Nobody was following him, good. 

Not good. 

Everything ached in the avians body especially his lower back. He staggered, his legs giving out and becoming almost like gelatin, scales rising up his body.

“What is happening?!” Philza thought, before he felt lightheaded and landed unmoving, but breathing. 

“We can’t just leave him there!” 

“I know but what else can we do?”

“Look for him that’s what!”

It’s been 30 minutes, Wilbur, Tommy and Techno have been thinking about what’s going on, and what they can do. 

“How about one of us goes in there, then we can all meet at the spawn area.” Techno asked, pointing out to the area.

“I’ll go.” Wilbur replied. He was his father after all. 

“Be safe, and find Phil…” Tommy sighed, walking off with the piglin hybrid. 

Wilbur walked in the darkend tree area, packed with weapons and food in his inventory.

“Don’t worry Dad, I’m coming.” 

Phil felt sore, feeling much smaller than a normal height, his legs felt numb. Like a part of his body was missing. 

He looked up noticing how much everything looked taller than normal.

Phil attempted to walk only to fall face first on the grass, he panicked thinking that his legs were gone before looking back and seeing a snake like tail wiggling around. 

“Okay what the fuck?” Phil spoke concerned. Looking at the tail which was a green with a black at the tip, with yellow on the bottom side.

Phil attempted to move around like a snake, slithering around he realized that he wasn’t going that far.

He was shrunken down, to the size of an tiny Naga. 

Luckily everything shrunk down with him, so he still had a way to contact someone. Before he could pick up the phone however, a tremor shook the grass below. 

Phil looked up, and up, to see Wilbur calling out Phil’s name, clearly worried. 

“Wilbur! I’m down here!” Phil called out, but Wilbur didn’t even bat an eye, he just kept on walking, and Phil was about to be squished!

Phil screamed, moving himself out of the way, realizing that he had tiny little black wings on his back. But he barely made it across, if he had not moved he would be dead.

Phil used his hands to push himself out of the way, latching himself to Wilbur’s ankle. 

Wilbur stopped moving, looking down at his leg. 

“What the fuck?” Wilbur said confused, looking at the tiny man. “Phil, dad? Is that you?” 

He held out a hand to Phil, the father figure latching on, Wilbur raised his hand up, squinting his eyes then his eyes widened.

“Oh thank goodness your alright!” Wilbur said relived. 

“Y-yeah, I’m okay.” Phil smiled weakly. “Just a bit suprised I’m like this.” 

“Well will figure out something, you look cute like this anyway.” Wilbur cooed, scratching Phil on his neck with his finger. 

Phil giggled, trying to push Wilbur’s finger back, failing as Wilbur scribbled across his sides.

“Mahahate stop! Please! It tichehehelesckles!” Phil squealed, Wilbur scribbling across the tiny black wings, making him laugh louder. 

“Well this is what you get nearly scaring me half to death.” Wilbur smirked, smiling at the small giggles from Phil. 

“Hahahaha! Ohohohkay! Ohohkay! Stopopop ititit!” Phil giggled, squeaks coming in between his soft giggles. 

“Hm, nah!” Wilbur spoke, blowing a raspberry into Phil’s tiny belly. 

“AHAHAHA! NOHOHOHO!!” Phil squealed, hiccups peppering in. He was even more sensitive than before. 

“Alright Alright, I’ll be nice.” Wilbur removed his finger from Phil, his giggles dying down. 

“But how did this happen?” Wilbur asked. 

“I…I don’t know…must have been a potion or something.” Phil sighed. “Sorry I made you kids panic though.” 

“It’s alright.” Wilbur said patting Phil on the head. “I’m just glad you’re okay.” 

Phil smiled, looking up at his son and put a hand on his nose. 

“Me too.” 

#Naga!Phil!AU #dsmp tickle #dsmp fanfic #dsmp au #sbi fanfic #mcyt g/t

[bratkook]

not yet. jjk

not yet, almost, right now pairing. jungkook x reader genre. fluff, some angst, pg-13 word count. 4.1k warnings. mentions of infidelity, some feelings come to light, unrequited pining, spur of the moment kissing, light grinding on the dance floor, jungkook pops a boner and wants to cry</3 summary. jungkook feels the pang of guilt in his gut when you spot your recent ex out with his new girl, and what better way to make the jerk hurt than to have him believe you were now dating him, the neighbor he had been insecure about your whole relationship note. this is based off a request sent a while back for numbers #43 and #67 from this prompt list! (i think this might turn into a small drabble series...mayhaps)

Jungkook can spot your discomfort easily, the occasional colorful light bouncing off your face showing him the flash of anger in your eyes. The only reason he’s not currently running for the hills, knowing very well how mean you can get when angry, is because your glare isn’t being sent at him. Not yet at least. 

Because of this, he allows himself to enjoy the cute way your nose scrunches up, lips twisting in displeasure as you stare at the crowd of people, eyes locked onto an unlucky bystander. Honestly, he wishes he could hear your thoughts, wanting to know exactly what has your panties in a bunch, ruining your mood instead of letting you enjoy the expensive fruity drink he had just bought you as payment for allowing him to drag you out of the house. Jungkook isn’t a mind reader though, so he decides on his next best option. 

“Who’s got you looking all sour?” he sighs, resting his elbow on the counter of the bar as he inches closer to you, head at your level in an attempt to match your line of sight. 

“Him,” you seethe, brows pinching together, showing those light wrinkles in between them, a product of how expressive you were and definitely something Jungkook always teases you about. 

Jungkook can only hum in question, eyes squinting in the low light as he attempts to find the him you’re talking about. With a slight turn of your head, you’re inches from Jungkook’s cheek, the obvious look of confusion etched onto his soft features letting you know he was absolutely lost. With a soft huff your fingers are gripping his cheeks and moving his face in the right direction, free hand pointing as discreetly as you could to the man in question. 

You know he spots him, you can feel his jaw tense underneath your grip. What you don’t feel is the sudden guilt that fills him up, sloshing in his stomach and mixing with the liquor he just drank until he feels a little queasy. Jungkook instantly regrets coaxing you out of your little dungeon with the promise of cheering you up. If he had known the spawn of satan–dubbed your ex boyfriend and also the reason why you were in a downward spiral–would be here, he would have just let you rot in your bed like you originally wanted. 

“Do you wanna go?” he mutters out, cheeks still squished by your slowly tightening grip, and he begins to accept the fact that you might just break his jaw right now. It’s fine, he thinks, he deserves it. 

“No,” you grunt stubbornly, fingers finally releasing him as you turn back around and choose to face the endless amount of bottles behind the bar. He may be the reason you were currently on a never ending cycle of watching sad, heartbreaking chick-flicks from the early 2000’s, dumping you with the lame excuse that you two were on different paths and he just wasn’t ready for commitment. It’s something you accepted, albeit jaw tense and eye twitching as you did so, but you figured you would eventually find your way back to each other. 

Your mind was warped, believing you were meant to be, that this was just a mere bump in the road that you would laugh at together in the future. 

That is, until he blocked you on all social media, and you had to hear from your best friend that he had moved on days later and was now with some blonde-haired, fresh faced, supermodel-esque woman that you could not get yourself to hate. Instead you took to endlessly scrolling through her instagram while you stuffed your face with milk chocolate and questioned why you had ever convinced yourself that you had a future with him. 

“Good, he’s a dick and you shouldn’t let him ruin your night.” Jungkook grumbles, slinging his arm around you as you hold your forgotten drink by your lips. He had seen your relationship with Hajoon play out from the very beginning, knowing slightly more intimate details than he would like considering you were next door neighbors and happened to share a wall between your bedrooms. 

The friendship you had with Jungkook blossomed right after you moved in four years ago, friendly neighborly talks morphing into actual conversations, and eventually inviting each other into your apartments where you would attempt to beat him at any game you had in your Nintendo switch. It was a great dynamic, providing the two of you with a sense of relief after your busy days at work. 

Unfortunately, the second you got with Hajoon was the end of any of those playful matches, your ex’s jealousy making you distance yourself in an attempt to keep your relationship at bay. 

Jungkook can’t say he didn’t see it coming, having heard the way you’d cry anytime you had an argument and your ex would leave, slamming the door behind him so hard Jungkook’s walls would rattle. It had become such a common occurence it was a shock he hadn’t marched out of his house, met Hajoon in the hall, and gave him a clean right hook in your honor. 

He was secretly hoping you’d break up with the jerk for your own good–and maybe for his own personal reasons too. Your ex was right in being wary of Jungkook, knowing the way a boy's mind worked, sensing Jungkook’s feelings for you in a way you were too blind to see. Jungkook wasn’t a dick though, he could tell you wanted your relationship to work so he kept his distance. 

When weeks went by without the sight of him he began to think you finally did it, a call for celebration that made him want to go over to your place to challenge you for a friendly match of Mario Kart like you used to. 

Until he ran into you in the hall and took note of what a mess you were, his smile falling from his face when he saw how defeated you looked. 

Your shameful confirmation that you had been royally dumped made his heart twist for you, his selfless tendencies urging him to help you feel better in any way he could. You were thankful for it, grateful that he was keeping you company while you moped around, providing you with just the right amount of distraction to allow you to breathe and slowly heal. 

Honestly, today would have been just another day if it wasn’t what was supposed to be your two year anniversary. The second Jungkook heard the telltale sounds of The Notebook starting up in your bedroom—something he hadn’t heard through the drywall separating your rooms in weeks—is when he knew something was up. 

Jump to: now. 

With Jungkook looking sheepish and wishing he had chosen another bar, and you gripping the cup so hard it was a shock it hadn’t shattered in your grasp. 

“He’s with her,” you whisper out harshly, head downcast, swirling the liquid around in your glass as you force yourself not to look back at them. The vision of them coddled up in the corner, her arms wrapped around his while she laughed at whatever he whispered in her ear had stung enough the first time, you weren’t jealous but the pain still lingered inside of you.. 

“Just try to ignore him. Don’t let it bother you,” he attempts to reassure you, the bass of the music muffling the way you try to deny the fact that you’re clearly upset, his attention now elsewhere. 

Jungkook takes a chance and looks back once more, eyes narrowed as he searches for Hajoon in the crowd. He spots him with more ease the second time, seeing the way he lazily drinks from his glass while the blonde rests her head on his shoulder, lips moving as she tells him something that makes him smile. 

“Oh shit,” Jungkook chokes, eyes widening slightly in shock when Hajoon meets his gaze. He’s been caught, too late for him to avert his eyes and pretend he wasn’t blatantly staring. He can only give him a tight-lipped smile that he hopes doesn’t come across as an invitation to come say hello. 

“What?” you question, turning to stare at Jungkook and seeing the look on his face, doe eyes swirling with a mix of emotions. 

“He saw me,” he speaks through clenched teeth, lips barely moving as he does so, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. 

“What?” you repeat harshly, setting the drink back down as your palms grow clammy, finger tugging at your shirt’s neckline when the air becomes thick and stuffy. 

“Oh fuck, he’s coming.” Jungkook throws back the remainder of his drink, grimacing at the burn lingering in the back of his throat before placing the cup down. “Just follow along,” he whispers into your ear, standing tall as Hajoon approaches the two of you. 

He’s ballsy, Jungkook will give him that, more so when he completely ignores Jungkook in favor of calling out your name. 

“Y/N, oh my god is that you?”

Jungkook can’t stop the way he glares at the bastard, not even the small jab to his side that you deliver with your elbow is enough to wipe the look off his face. Still, you pause to breathe, shutting your eyes briefly before plastering a look of surprise on your features as you turn around to face him. 

“Hajoon, what are you doing here?” Your voice has risen a few octaves, pitch surpassing the normal customer service voice and entering unhinged and borderline crazed territory. Hajoon doesn’t notice though, and neither does the girl strapped to his side, the two of them smiling at you and not giving Jungkook a glance. 

“Oh, we’re just celebrating our four month anniversary.” The girl finally speaks up, giving Hajoon a kiss to the cheek and completely missing the way your face instantly falls. Her innocent statement has you coming to the sudden realization that this son of a bitch had been cheating on you for the last two months of your relationship. 

Jungkoon spots it easily though, can sense the way your body tenses up beside him, no doubt will the rage flare up in the form of hot tears spilling over and onto your cheeks soon. One look at Hajoon’s pleased face is enough to not want to give him the satisfaction of seeing the way he affects you. 

“Young love,” Jungkook sighs, long arm pulling you into his side obnoxiously, seeing the way Hajoon eyes the two of you carefully. “I can relate. We’ve been together for...what is it again babe, five months?”

Hajoon doesn’t even attempt to be discreet, eyes bulging out and fist curling at his side. He had hated Jungkook the second he met him, intimidated by his physique and the way he made you laugh with ease, threatened by him in every sense. It was the reason he told you to cut ties with him, his fragile ego not trusting your neighbor, fully convinced all Jungkook would have to do was beckon you over for you to leave him. 

Any man would feel threatened by him, just looking at him now with his long hair framing his face, the challenging glimmer in his eyes as he gauges the other’s reaction. Hajoon follows Jungkook’s arm, seeing how it snakes around your body and settles with his palms curling around your waist, fingers gently squeezing your skin. 

Jungkook chuckles when Hajoon meets his gaze once more, free hand adjusting the yellow tinted sunglasses perched on his head—something that should make him look like an A class douchebag, because who the hell brings shades to a fucking club. But like all things, Jungkook makes it work. 

All of this tied in with that small, white lie, makes Hajoon’s head spin in a jealous whirlwind. It was fine and dandy if he cheated on you but how dare you give him the same treatment, with your neighbor of all people. 

“Five months?” He bites first, eyes bouncing back and forth between the two of you. 

The insecurity is written all over his face, it almost makes him shrink in size and for some reason it fills you with confidence. You stand taller now, sliding your own arm around Jungkook’s side as you nuzzle into him. 

“Almost six.” Those two words are the nails into his coffin of insecurity, probably increasing his trust issues for years to come, but considering it was no longer your problem, you don’t care. 

“Wow, almost half a year. That’s so cute, isn’t it?” His girlfriend coos, perfectly manicured hand placed over her chest, totally missing the way Hajoon looks like a kicked puppy. 

Now that he doesn’t have the one up, he’s no longer interested in sticking around, the gross green monster perched on his shoulder laughing at his misfortune. 

“Adorable,” he grunts out. “We should get back to our table. It was nice seeing you.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before walking away, his girlfriend giving you a small wave before following behind him. The growing distance between you makes your muscles relax, sagging in relief as you release Jungkook’s side and hunch over the sticky bar. 

“I think I'm gonna puke,” you groan out, eyes going crossed when you feel Jungkook rest two fingers against your lips, sending him a questionable stare. 

“Please don’t, that drink was expensive. You’re only allowed to hurl as the grand finale of the night, and we’re just getting started.”

Jungkook smiles when you shut your eyes and groan, your mood was already down in the dumps, and despite the small rush you got from putting Hajoon in his place, you were still craving the comfort of your bed. “Can we go?”

The bartender proceeds to place a glass of water in front of you, assuming your slumped state was due to intoxication and not the gross remnants of running into an ex-boyfriend. You grab the glass regardless, taking a big gulp of the cool liquid and sighing when it helps calm you down. 

“If you really want to go we can, but at least try to loosen up.” His smile is genuine, cheeks pushed out as he looks down at you with kind eyes. “We’ll stay on the opposite side, and if you’d still rather watch the Notebook for the millionth time, we can do that.”

With a half-hearted groan you nod, allowing Jungkook to order another round of drinks for you to enjoy before eventually dragging you out onto the dance floor. He knows how to keep the atmosphere up, goofy smile on his lips as he bobs his head along to the loud beat, hands clasped with yours and wiggling in time to the music. 

“You love this song,” he manages to say through the noise, pulling you closer as he settles into a spot on the decently packed floor. You couldn’t even deny it, he heard just how often you played it through the paper thin walls. That playlist full of hit 2000’s songs was your guilty pleasure, and it was the main reason he had decided to bring you to this club on their themed night. 

Jungkook was attentive, he knew so much about you and played it off casually, always listening to things you say you enjoy, storing them into a folder labeled under your name and shoved into a very important part of his brain. 

You knew he was trying his best to get you to enjoy yourself, so you give in, beginning to sing along to the lyrics of an old song that brought back a flood of memories that made you smile back at him. Jungkook feels the first burst of success bloom inside him, joining in with your singing, raising up your clasped hands as you begin dancing. 

The smile doesn’t leave his face as he stares down at you, the few drinks you’ve had loosening you up and allowing you to push the earlier thoughts away. He feels mesmerized, eyes locked onto you, the flash of colors painting your skin, illuminating you in alternating shades of purple and blue. His heart does that annoying thing where it skips and stutters in his chest, mouth drying up as you drop your head back and sway your hips, slowly loosening the grip in your hands and turning around until your back is dangerously close to his chest.

Jungkook’s hands hover in the air for a moment, panic over taking his brain as he tries to remain calm. He could do this—he has done this before—the two of you would go clubbing before you got with your ex, and dancing definitely played a big part of it. So why was his brain short circuiting?

Sure your ass was brushing up against his crotch with each sway of your hips, but you were dancing, so his mind and his dick could fuck right off. He shakes his head to clear any dirty thoughts as his hands loosely grip your hips, testing the water, and when you smile and look back at him he feels less wary and sways his hips in time with yours. 

You can feel his chest brush against your back, breath fanning along your skin from his close proximity, only getting closer when you lift an arm back and hold his shoulder to pull him tighter against you. The heat sticks to your skin, thin shirt dampening with sweat from the warmth of the bodies around you, everyone in their own state of drunkenness as the bass flowed through their chests. 

Going out like this had been something you missed, used to frequenting the bars and clubs by your apartment with your friends and Jungkook, something that came to a halt because your ex claimed he hated that kind of scene. Something that was clearly a lie considering he was here now, enjoying himself as him and his new girlfriend danced along. 

You didn’t realize when he made his way onto the dance floor, enough distance separating you, but now that you had spotted him you feel like he’s way too close for comfort. In a similar position to you and Jungkook, Hajoon is free to look around while his girlfriend dances on him, eyes locked onto you with a smirk that makes your skin crawl. 

Jungkook is too lost in the music to notice where your attention has gone, earlier effects of the alcohol settling into his bloodstream, warming him up in that familiar way he welcomes. When the song changes, flowing into the next bass heavy anthem, you turn around in his grasp, giving him a brief glance before your hands are gripping his cheeks and bringing him down into a messy kiss. 

This is definitely something he’s never done with you before.

A muffled sound of confusion is swallowed by you as he quickly falls into the motion, large palms gripping your hips, slowly sliding up your back before lightly tangling into your hair to deepen the kiss. Jungkook can taste the liquor on your tongue, mixing with his own as your tongue slips between his lips. He has no idea what came over you but his racing heart and buried crush don’t let him question it, soft lips smacking with yours, not heard between the thrumming music. 

Your fingers feel the warmth of his cheeks, how he blushes into the kiss but you attribute it to the alcohol pumping through him. Harsh breaths fan across your face as he groans, lightly pulling back for a gasp of air but you don’t allow it. “No, don’t pull away. Not yet.”

And who is he to argue with that, blindly letting you bring your lips back together in a messy kiss. Your small pleas for him to continue has all the blood rushing to his cock, the ache felt in his jeans when it starts to harden, pressing into the denim uncomfortably and only getting worse when you gently bite down onto his lip before inching back. 

“Is he still looking?” you question, breath jagged as you peer up at Jungkook’s dazed expression. 

“What?” he dumbly replies, lips swollen and shiny, eyes still focused on your own as he makes an attempt to reconnect your lips. But then your question dawns on him, like a bucket of ice cold water, it sobers him up instantly. Is he still looking?

This was all for show. 

“He’s on the far right.” You motion your head in the direction and observe his face when his eyes move over to check if Hajoon was in fact still there. He does spot him heading out in a hurry though, girlfriend trailing behind him as he exits the club entirely

“No, just saw him leave.” Jungkook clears his throat, fingers slipping out of your hair and settling down over your back just like before. He hopes his solemn expression isn’t amplified by the lights flashing across his face, trying his best to act unaffected, as if he didn’t just pop a boner on the dance floor over a revenge make-out session. 

Luckily you don’t spot his fallen expression, a wide smile spreading across your face in victory, happy that you had successfully put him in his place. 

“I’m so sorry for kissing you.” You gasp in realization, unknowingly pouring salt in the wound when you act as if kissing him was something you would never do if it wasn’t in an attempt to piss off your ex. 

“No, it’s okay,” he waves off and smiles, eyes glancing over to the bar once more. Jungkook needed a drink, maybe five—actually he wouldn’t mind going home and watching The Notebook now, that would surely give him a reason to cry with no questions asked. 

He starts to walk back to the bar with you by his side, the sad look you had earlier entirely gone, replaced with a giddy smile and a pep in your step, so he can’t say he's too upset. 

“God, you should’ve seen how mad he looked when he saw us dancing together,” you giggle, standing inches from him as he orders another drink. Before he can respond, you’re wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him in for a hug. 

A hug, really?

Still, Jungkook sighs and wraps his own arms around your waist, a defeated smile on his face that he hides as he lets his chin rest over your head. The dip in his head makes the yellow tinted frames fall over his eyes and when he pulls back you snort at the visual, finger gently poking the bridge of them. 

“You look good in those.”

His drink gets placed in front of him then, giving him a good excuse to avoid stumbling over his words from your compliment, choosing to take a gulp of the hard liquor, wincing when it burns his throat. “Thank you,” he rasps out, grimacing at the taste and it just makes you giggle. 

“I should be thanking you. You need to be my fake boyfriend more often.”

Even more salt poured into his wound, topped with a dash of lemon juice in the form of your playful smile and nudge to his ribs, it stings. His heart ache in his chest, more so when he realizes his stupid boner was still going strong. Thankfully the dark lights prevent you from seeing it, the last thing he needed was further embarrassment. 

The yellow frames are placed back over his head as he takes another sip, nodding along to your statement with what he hopes comes across as a genuine smile on his lips once he sets his cup down. “Anytime you want Y/N.”

“I know this night didn’t end with the grand finale of me puking, but do you wanna go home and watch movies? No sappy romance ones, I'm not in the mood for crying anymore.”

He finishes his drink with ease, quickly closing his tab as he agrees. “Yeah, just let me go to the bathroom real quick.” 

You might not be in the mood for crying but he definitely was; he also needed to handle the situation in his jeans, and what better night to stoop this low than tonight. His own version of a grand finale coming in the form of jerking off in the dirty bar bathroom while maybe shedding a tear or two. 

“Okay! I’ll call an uber,” you announce cheerfully, allowing him to walk away as you settle onto one of the sticky bar stools. 

Jungkook’s chest feels heavy as he walks to the bathroom, slipping into the small room and locking the door behind him. His forehead rests against the dirty door, eyes falling shut with a groan. He wishes he had the guts to confess to his crush, needing to push the fear of ruining the friendship away from his mind, wanting to gather possible clues that could indicate that you might feel the same. 

One day, but not yet. 

#ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #heartsforbts #btsghostie #bangtaninn #btscreatorscorner #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #bts fluff #jeon jungkook #bts imagines #new

[ray-ray-writings]

Catch Me If I Fall-Technoblade

This is a Technoblade x gn!reader in the dreamsmp

Check out my Masterlist here

What was supposed to be a simple mining trip goes horribly wrong when Y/N doesn’t pay attention to their surroundings. 

Y/N’s POV

“Be careful” Techno warned, pressing a kiss to my forehead and then one to my lips. I couldn’t help the smile that graced my face, “Will do,” I responded softly, kissing my boyfriend once more before checking to make sure I had all I needed for my trip. Food, wood, torches, and my netherite pickaxe. 

When Techno and I had moved out of L’Manberg, a lot of his things were taken before we could pack it up, including his many stacks of diamonds. Techno had a lot to do at our new snowy home, so I offered to go mining for us. Techno was hesitant at first, but after assuring him multiple times I would be fine, he agreed and made me an enchanted netherite pickaxe that had Efficiency V, Fortune III, Unbreaking III, and Mending on it so that it would let me mine faster and wouldn’t break in the middle of my trip. 

“You have everything?” Techno asked softly. I nodded with a bright smile, “I do!” I chirped brightly. “Okay… I’ll see you in a few hours?” I hummed in confirmation, “I’ll see you in a few hours.” Techno leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against my lips, I immediately kissed back. A few moments passed before I forced myself to pull away, knowing I would never leave if I didn’t. “I love you so much” I murmured to the pink haired man. A soft blush fell on Techno’s cheeks. Techno pulled me in for a quick hug, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “I love you too, love. More than you’ll ever know.” 

Techno released me from the hug causing me to let out a sigh. I took a few steps down into the mine before turning and waving to my boyfriend who remained at the tops of the steps. He immediately smiled softly and waved back. “Bye baby” “Bye love”. Another sigh escaped my lips as I turned back around and continued down the steps, further into the earth. 

It didn’t take me too long to get to level 12. I immediately got to work on strip mining. I hit many patches of coal, redstone, iron, and many other ores, but no diamonds. I had been down in the mine for about an hour at this point and had yet to find what I actually came down here for. Which is why I was so excited when the next piece of stone I removed opened a hole to a ravine. 

I slightly thanked whoever was above for this. This is the break I was looking for. I quickly removed the other piece of stone that blocked my path and immediately rushed into the ravine. I looked around, making sure to note where the lava was so that I didn’t accidentally walk into it or fall. I quickly decorated my opening with torches so I would be able to tell where I came from so I wouldn’t get lost. After only a few moments in the ravine, I found what I was looking for. “DIAMONDS!” I screeched in victory, rushing toward the patch embedded in the wall of the ravine. 

I quickly mined the diamonds and watched with glee as they kept going. Once I was done with the patch, I had acquired 24 diamonds. I let out an excited squeal as I moved further down the ravine to search for more. Another patch came into view and I ran up to it with excitement. I was so absorbed in my excitement of finding diamonds, that I didn’t hear the drop behind me. Maybe had I heard the telltale sizzling of the creeper that had fallen behind, I wouldn’t have taken so much damage. But I didn’t. By the time I realized what was happening, it was too late. The creeper had exploded, sending me forward into the stone hole I had made. My face smashed off of the hard wall and much like the creeper, my back exploded in pain. I couldn’t help the scream that escaped my lips at the blast. 

I took a few moments to take some deep breaths before slowly standing up and crawling out of the hole. My legs shook under my weight. “Oh fuck,” I breathed out, my eyes scanning the ravine. A lot of mobs had spawned. A lot of them were ignoring me, but due to the explosion, some had turned to look and found me. As fast as I could, which wasn’t very fast, I turned and limped back toward where I came from, my eyes scanning the wall for my torches. 

The sound of footsteps hitting the ground sounded behind me as mobs dropped from above to chase me. My breath quickly as I slowly began to panic. Icy hot fear ran through me as I realized one fatal thing that I had forgotten on my journey. A sword. A bow. An axe. Literally any weapon to protect myself. I forgot it. I didn’t think that I would need it… I’m so dumb sometimes. 

The groan of a zombie grew closer and closer. A sharp pain shot through my shoulder as something hit it. I let out a whimper as I turned around and found a zombie right behind me. I took a deep breath and punched the zombie as hard as I could, causing it to stumble back, giving me enough time to escape. 

My eyes caught sight of the many torches that outlined my entrance to the ravine causing me to almost cry in relief. I whimpered as I limped faster toward my safe haven, but once again, a sharp pain shot through my shoulder. This pain though caused me to scream. I looked at my shoulder and found an arrow sticking through it, almost causing me to faint. I willed the thought away, knowing that if I did faint, I was a goner and would lose a life. I gritted my teeth and threw myself in the hole I created earlier, immediately turning around to block the path with cobblestone. 

Once I knew I was safe, I allowed the tears that had built in my eyes to fall. Everything hurt so much. I had such a long walk back to the stairs out of the mine and then I would have to walk 50 blocks up and 50 blocks home. I placed down a single piece of cobble and took a seat to try and compose myself. I pulled out some of the food I had packed from my inventory. 

As I ate, my hand brushed against my nose and when I pulled it away, blood coated my hand letting me know my nose was in fact bleeding from the impact of the wall. The food helped me feel a tiny, and I really mean tiny, bit better. I mentally assessed what was happening in my shoulder before deciding it would be best to leave the arrow in my shoulder so that I wouldn’t bleed out on my way back, no matter how uncomfortable it was. I also made sure to check my inventory and was happy to find the diamonds I had mined safe in my care. I had only found about 40 but there was no way I was spending more time down here to look for more. 

After taking the time I needed to calm myself, I slowly stood up and began my long walk back to the stairs. The journey took me about an hour and a half. I had to take it really slow due to my injuries. But I made it to the stairs nonetheless. I almost cried staring up at them though. It took me another half an hour to climb the stairs that normally would have taken no longer than 10 minutes to climb. 

By the time I reached the top of the stairs, I was exhausted. I couldn’t walk anymore, but I had to. The house was about 50 blocks away. For some reason we decided to keep the mine and the house separate and now I cursed that decision. I stared at the warm house and almost sobbed at the sight. “TECHNO!” I screamed as loud as I could. The pink headed man was on the front porch doing something. At the sound of my scream the man immediately dropped what he was doing and booked it toward the mine. “Y/N!” He yelled in return.

My legs quivered as he drew closer and when he was right in front of me, they gave out completely. Techno caught me and pulled me as close as he could to his chest, keeping in mind the arrow that was poking from my shoulder. “What happened?!” He questioned in a panic, his eyes scanning over my body. “Mobs.” I whimpered, clutching his shoulders tightly. “I told you to be careful, damnit” He hissed, scooping my legs into his arms and carrying me bridal style to the house. “I was,” I whimpered. My body must have sensed that I was now in a safe place because my vision went black and I completely collapsed into Techno’s arms. 

*Small Time Skip*

My shoulder’s cold. That was the first thing I could think of when I came too. What’s on my shoulder? I let out a groan as my eyes fluttered open. I wasn’t in the mine or outside in the snow. I was in Techno and my shared bedroom. I slowly turned my head to look at my shoulder. The arrow had been removed and it was now wrapped in gauze and an ice pack sat on top of it. My throat was dry and my body ached, less than it did, but I was still sore. “Techno?” I croaked, hoping he could hear me. 

I didn’t have to wait long. The door swung open within seconds and there stood my pink headed boyfriend. “Y/N” He breathed, rushing toward the side of my bed. He leaned down and pressed a sweet and careful kiss to my lips before kneeling down beside me, clutching my hand tightly. “You scared the hell out of me,” He murmured, pressing a kiss to the back of my hand. “I’m sorry,” I whispered back. Techno let out a small sigh before kissing my hand again. “Don’t be sorry love. It’s not your fault. I should have gone with you or sent you with better protection.” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes lovingly, “It’s not your fault” I playfully mocked, bringing his hand to my mouth and kissing it. Techno chuckled deeply at my statement. 

“How are you feeling?” He questioned, standing up slightly, his eyes glancing over my injuries. “Okay” I told him, “I’m a bit sore, but okay. I could use a glass of water,” I hinted. Techno chuckled and nodded, “On it,” He quickly left the room and returned with a glass of water. My boyfriend held the glass to my lips and helped me drink. Once I was done, he set the glass down on the nightstand. “Anything else?” he asked. I slowly extended my arms and made grabby hands. Techno laughed and got the hint, crawling in bed beside me. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around me, making sure that what he was doing wasn’t causing me any pain. Once he was sure I was okay, he pulled me close to his chest, pressing kisses on my head. I giggled at the feeling and allowed myself to relax in his arms. 

“Thank you for taking care of me,” I whispered. Techno hummed, “Anytime love. I’ll always be there for you. Just try not to scare me like that again. When you fell… I just felt my heart stop. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.” I nodded slowly into his chest, “I’m glad you were there to catch me when I fell. My legs just gave out. It took me so long to get back up from the mine and I was so tired…” “I’ll always be there to catch you when you fall. Just don’t make a habit of it.” The two of us shared a laugh about that. “I promise,” I murmured, letting out a yawn. “You’re tired, you should sleep more. I’ll still be here when you wake.” Techno murmured in my ear. I let out a tired hum and nodded. “Okay… I love you” “I love you too… so much”

There you have it! I really hope you enjoyed! If you did, be sure to leave a like!!

#mcyt #mcyt imagine #mcyt x reader #mcyt one shot #techno #technoblade #technoblade imagine #technoblade one shot #technoblade x reader #gender neutral #dreamsmp #dream smp #dreamsmp imagine #dream smp imagine #dream #catch me if i fall #ray ray writings #ray writings #ray-ray-writings #requested

[redhoodssweetheart]

Until Midnight

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Gender Neutral!Reader

Requested: Yes (REQUESTS ARE CLOSED, this was for my 1.5K follower celebration) (Also I noticed on the last several stories that I posted that I accidentally left this part as No.  I am so sorry :’( I didn’t mean to do that it’s just sometimes I forget to change things)

Word Count: 1.3K

Warnings:  Fluff, swearing

Description:  You and a man named Dami have been in a secret romance for a while now.  One day he invites you to a masquerade ball that the Wayne’s are hosting and you learn that the man you’ve been talking to is really Damian Wayne.

Your mask was secured on your face, your outfit absolutely perfect.  Everything was ready for the masquerade ball tonight.  Your friends would be here any moment to pick you up.  You glanced at your phone and saw that you had a text message waiting for you.

Dami:  I can’t wait to see you tonight, beloved.  Officially, that is.

You had been secretly talking to someone named Dami for over four months at this point.  You had met on an app to make new friends.  He had told you that his family said he needed to make more friends and he was trying the app to see what he could find.  One thing led to another and two months after you had met the two of you had started seeing one another, and neither one of you had seen a picture of the other.  You didn’t mind, you were just happy to have found someone as loving and caring as Dami was.

You had found out a month ago that both of you were going to the masquerade ball that the Gotham City Public Library was hosting to try and raise funds.  They were offering a magical evening like one from a book and Dami had said he was going to be there.  You had agreed to wear a pin of a robin that he had sent you so that he could find you amongst the masses.

Your friends arrived and off you went, each of you talking excitedly about what the night would entail.  Your friends were hoping to meet some mysterious stranger that would sweep them off their feet and offer them the thrill of a lifetime.  You kept quiet thinking about finally meeting Dami.  Your friends asked you how you wished the evening would go, none of them knew about your secret relationship with someone from the internet.  That was something you had wanted to keep to yourself.

“I just want to have a little fun,” was all you said.

People were already gathered inside talking and laughing, the clinking of glasses, and the sound of the band mingled with one another.  You looked around in wonder at the ballroom that had been chosen for this event.  The chandeliers were winking at you in the low light.  Everyone was dressed in their best and your friends broke away to find some refreshments while you stood in the doorway wondering if Dami was here yet.

On the other side of the room, Damian stood with his brothers, sisters, and father.  It was his father’s idea to hold this fundraiser event and while Damian normally hated these things he couldn’t wait to meet you.  He had imagined this moment for months and now that it was finally here he wasn’t going to lie, he was a little nervous.  

Though you wouldn’t have known that by looking at him.

Damian’s face, even covered with a mask, was as unreadable as ever.  Jason elbowed Dick and asked, “Does the demon spawn seem off to you tonight?”

Dick took a closer look at his younger brother and said, “I don’t see anything off about him.”

Jason, however, still wasn’t sold on anything.  He was about to ask Damian what was going on with him when Damian said, “I’m going to take a lap.”  Then he broke away from the group leaving them all watching him for a moment before shrugging it off and going back to their own conversations.

You had been here for fifteen minutes and asked to dance three times by random people, none of them Dami.  He was supposed to be wearing a matching pin just like yours so that you would know it was him.  You were beginning to think that maybe he had stood you up.  Maybe he was never coming in the first place and just got a kick out of making you look like an idiot.  You were almost ready to throw in the towel when you heard a voice said, “Found you.”

You turned and there stood Damian Wayne, and on his lapel was the matching robin pin that he had sent to you.  For a moment your brain did the Windows shutdown noise and your mouth hung open.  “You… you’re…. Oh my God,” you couldn’t form a coherent thought let alone a complete sentence.

He smiled at you, “Would you care to dance with me, beloved?”  He offered you a hand and for a moment you didn’t want to believe that this was actually happening.

How had the man you had met on that app be Damian Wayne?  How had you not known that this entire time you were talking to Bruce Wayne’s son?  

Taking his hand he led you out onto the dance floor and pulled you in close and in that moment the entire world felt right.  Everything outside of this ballroom didn’t exist and he wasn’t the son of Bruce Wayne and you weren’t just someone he had met on an app.  For a moment it truly was like you were in a book or fairytale, and you were the only two people in the entire world.

The song came to an end, but Damian still held you in his arms.  “Why didn’t you tell me?”  The one thought that had been on your mind since the initial shock wore off slipped past your lips.  “Did you not trust me even after you got to know me better?”

Damian had known that this might be one of your questions, “Can we go somewhere else?  Somewhere without my family’s prying eyes and the patrons staring at us like we’re cannon fodder for gossip?”

You glanced around the room and noticed that there were people staring at you and Damian.  “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.”

His fingers intertwined with yours and the two of you dashed from the room.  He hailed a cab and took you to a private club in the upscale side of town.  There he found a private couch away from the others and the two of you sat.  His eyes searched your face as if he were trying to memorize it.  “You asked why I didn’t tell you after we got to know one another,” he began.  “It wasn’t because I didn’t trust you or didn’t want to tell you.  I just liked how things were.  I wasn’t Damian Wayne when I was with you, I was just Dami.  And I knew eventually I’d have to come clean and when this opportunity presented itself I figured what better way to tell you than at the masquerade ball.”

You could understand that he probably felt normal when talking with you.  People probably used him all the time and when he was with you he didn’t have that same pressure placed upon him.  “I understand,” and you saw him relax.  “I’m glad I know now, I gotta say I was beginning to grow curious as to what you looked like.”

“Am I better or worse than what you had pictured?”

You acted like you were considering the question before saying, “Better, definitely better.”

He grinned and tugged you closer, “You don’t know how glad I am that I can finally touch you and hold you.  I’ve been imagining this moment for months,” he confessed.

“Yeah?”  You gave him a shy smile but leaned into him more, your faces growing closer.

“Yeah,” his voice soft and you could almost feel his lips on your when—

“DAMIAN WAYNE, YOU’VE GOT SOME MAJOR EXPLAINING TO DO!”  A new voice shouted and you and Damian jumped apart as if caught doing something inappropriate.

When Damian looked up he growled, “What the hell?!  Did you all follow us here?”

You noticed three boys and two girls coming your way and you realized that this was Damian’s family and you felt your nerves spike.  The girls greeted you with bright smiles while the boys started arguing with one another.  “They’re always like this,” Cass leaned over and told you.

“You’ll get used to it,” Stephanie said.

You watched the four of them bicker, a fond smile on your face.

#Damian Wayne x Reader #Damian Wayne x Reader fluff #Damian Wayne #Damian Wayne fanfic #Damian Wayne fanfiction #Damian Wayne fluff #Requested

[frombeyondtheblackhole]

Hermit DSMP Swap AU: Part 4

... Skeppies- not in his house... he was in his mansion. Now he is in a mine. That’s not normal, or shouldn't be normal. Who knows what’s normal really. “I reject normal,” He muttered to himself before turning and yelling down the mineshaft “Baaaaaad... Very funny Bad!” He started back down the mine shaft, Bad had to be hiding around a corner up here somewhere. “How did you do it?... Bad?” No response “Bad! Stop hiding already, I know you’re there.” 

Wait, what was this. Skeppy stopped and squinted at the mineshaft walls. He’s a literal diamond, Skeppy knows a thing or two about rocks, and this was a rock he had never seen before. The whole wall was made up of large patches of this dark scaly stone. He knocked his knuckles against it, his diamond skin barely scratching it. “What the hell?” He said and was disappointed when Bad didn't interrupt with his typical ‘language.’ This gave him an idea. He cursed louder. Still silence. Skeppy frowned. Maybe Bad really wasn’t there. 

“Well, I'm leaving now. Last chance.” Still nothing. There was a sinking feeling in Skeppy’s chest. Bad wasn’t there. If this wasn’t a prank then what was this. Skeppy hurried down the mineshaft wasting no time in finding the ladder and climbing out into the sunlight. He exited the little house at the top only glancing back down the mine shaft once through the glass floor. He came out on the edge of a bay, mountains and trees behind him. There was some dirt scaffolding laid out in a massive square across the water, and a nether portal and some chests could be seen on a tiny island in the distance.  

He blinked at it for a minute and then Skeppy did what he always did when he didn’t know what to do. He started yelling.

“Hey yooo! Anyone, there!? Anyone out there?! Hellooooo, I’m talking to you!?” His voice echoed back to him and the water lapped softly against the beach. Skeppy scowled “Well, if you don’t want to be friendly then I’ll just leave. How about that? You hear me? I’m leaving, never returning. Not coming back.” He shouted for the benefit of any hypothetical hiding onlookers as he marched into the forest and started climbing the hill. 

The forest quickly thinned and the hill became more of a cliff, and soon he was climbing over rocky boulders and through flat patches of blue-green grass with the occasional grazing sheep. He came over the next hill and stopped short. The mountain dropped off in front of him and in the plain below looked to be some kind of a village. He squinted; a collective of houses built around what looked to be some kind of pole. 

He heard a bleating sound behind him and turned just as something white with horns rammed into him, knocking him off the cliff and sending him tumbling down the rocky slope, head over heels, till he slid to a stop at the bottom. He looked up at the blue sky and groaned. If he wasn’t a literal rock, he would have been covered in bruises. As it was he still felt like shit.    

“Well look at what the goat dropped in.” Someone laughed. Skeppy tilted his head back to look behind him, everything upside down. A man in a red sweater cast his shadow over him. 

He smiled and the corners of his eyes creased, his shadow growing as a pair of wings spread slightly behind him “Hey there, you seem new, welcome to Boatem town.” 

“Uuuuu... hey there?” 

“You just gonna to lie there, buddy?” He laughed again, reaching out a hand. 

Skeppy blinked and shook his head rolling over and taking the offered hand as the man helped him up. 

“By the way, I’m Grian, whatcha doing out here?” 

“Skeppy, and I, with my excellent sense of direction, was exploring and definitely not lost in any way. I know exactly where I am. And I’m definitely not the victim of some unnamed prankster” He said, starting to walk towards the village and looking around. They were behind a big mossy house.

“Oooh, a prank you say, I’ve got to hear this.” Grian said, following. They walked around the house into the village center, a tower of boats hovered in the middle over an ominous pit. 

“Naaah it’s boring really,” Skeppy waved his hand dismissively as he stopped near the edge of the Boatem hole and peered over. It went all the way down to bedrock, like L’manburg. “Huh... interesting...”

“Ah, yes. That is the Boatem hole, we're planning on opening it up to the void at some point.” Grian explained.

“The void? Wait, you can do that? That sounds awesome. Imagine the pranks you could pull with that” Skeppy said his curiosity getting the better of his caution.

“I know right, Scar’s already fallen down there several times,”

“Hey Grian, who’s your friend there?” A man with in a maroon coat and a tinny hat said coming over. When he came closer Skeppy noticed a long scar running diagonally across his nose and face. 

“Hey Scar! Speak of the devil,” Grian called out to the aptly named man. “This is Skeppy, he’s absolutely not lost.” Grian quipped, smiling, his voice full of sarcasm. 

“You’re lost you say,” Scar said his voice full of all the honey of a car salesman. Skeppy would know, he used the same honeyed tone when trying to talk Bad or Techno into something that probably wasn’t going to end all that well for them but would be absolutely hilarious to watch. 

“Not lost,” Skeppy quickly corrected. 

“Well even those who aren’t lost are trying to get somewhere. I’m sure you wouldn’t object to us sharing a shortcut or too.”

This man was good. Skeppy didn’t want to look too desperate though. Just add a bit of hesitation sprinkled with some skepticism, that should do it “Well... I suppose a shortcut sounds like a good idea. I am heading for the Badlands, know a faster way to get there?”

Skeppy was met with vacant looks, the car salesman gone. “Actually I have no idea where that is,” Scar shrugged sheepishly “How about you Grian,” 

Grian shook his head “Nope... now that I think about it, how did you get on the server anyway,”

“Um... I... I think, I think I just spawned... It’s hard to remember honestly, it’s been so long.” Skeppy frowned at the strange question. 

Grian and Scare glanced at each other in shock. New players weren't born, they were spawned, but it was very rare for players to spawn for the first time in a community server. Usually they spawned in a private server and then moved into a community when they found one that worked for them. 

“Oh!” Skeppies eyes went wide with realization then horror. If a diamond could blanch, Skeppy was the closest thing to that. “...This isn’t the Dream SMP, is it?” 

“Oh dear...” Grian Muttered, “That’s not good.”

---

TFC had been mining. Now he was standing in the middle of a quartz building. That wasn’t normal. His connection to the server had always been a bit glitchy. Maybe this was just another instance of server glitch. He had been frozen in place for days, lagged out, and even defended. Teleportation could just be added to that list. And it wasn’t all that bad, it’s not like it dumped him in the middle of the ocean or lava. As it was, it seemed like he was in someone's starter base. 

He walked down the stairs and out the glass front doors. There were pools of water to either side of a walkway and the yard was cluttered with large colorful statues. A muffin, a duck. Goodness the hermits were already at it with the pranks this season. 

He walked around the statues and came to the front gate of the grounds. A long wooden path lead off in one direction, and wrapped around behind the mansion in the other. A large red multi story building loomed in the distance. The hermits really had gotten busy. 

It was always nice to see what other people were making but he needed to get back to his mine. He took the path following it around the back of the mansion. The path dropped off suddenly. He jumped down and landed with a grunt before taking some bread out of his pocket and munching on it as he rounded the corner of the quartz building's foundation. 

He faltered as his eyes fell on a massive blackstone building looming out of the sea, two imposing lava infused towers book ending the walls at either side... And he had thought the Red build had been big for early game. This was definitely too big for early game... even by hermit standards. 

He slowly walked closer. Beyond the Quartz house was mostly just an open field until it reached the water. As he got closer he noticed his pickaxe suddenly become unnaturally heavy. It felt strangely like Mining Fatigue. What would a Guardian be doing out here? He returned his pick to his inventory. TFC had seen a lot of things in his time, and this thing felt off. 

“Pst..” 

TFC jumped and looked around for the source of the noise. 

“Over here,” 

Now he noticed the footprints in the ground and a floating potion bottle. That sounded like Etho. 

“Etho?” TFC queried.

“Yeah, it’s me. Here drink this, I can explain later,” Etho said, shoving the potion into TFC’s work calloused hands. 

TFC looked down at the bottle of bubbling silver liquid for a moment before uncorking it and downing the liquid. He trusted the young man with his life. 

--- 

Sam started up from his chair in the dark room where he had been flipping through the prison's security camera feeds, lit only by the glow of the computer screens. He expanded the outside front camera feed to full screen and rewound the feed. A strange old man he had never seen before slowly approached the beach by the prison then just disappeared. Who the hell was that and why did he take an invis potion. 

Sam scowled. “Not on my watch,” he muttered, summoning his trident from his inventory and marching for the exit.

#dsmp #dream smp #hermitcraft #dsmp au #dream smp au #hermitcraft au #hermitcraft dsmp swap au #skeppy #grian #good times with scar #tfc #etho #awsamdude #warden sam

[redrobbingabank]

Prison Break

Tw: lots of violence, blood

The white pastry box in her hands was heavy with the weight of the pie. Niki walked down the prime path the way she always did, smiling softly, sweater sleeves covering her hands. It had been a long time since she truly felt the way. She wasn’t sure when it had become a disguise, but it had, and everyone believed it without batting an eye. Beneath it, rage burned, hot but controlled. Always controlled. Her best weapon, she knew, was how she was perceived. Patience would pay off. Nothing but pain was coming for the people who’d locked her friend away.

She found Sam outside the museum. He leaned against the pillar, turning an unlit cigarette over and over in his fingers. He glanced up at her footsteps, then pushed himself off the pillar and pocketed the cigarette.

Niki smiled brightly. “Sam! I was just looking for you.” She hurried up the steps and under the awning outside the museum. The light rain a few feet away droned on. 

“Hey, Niki.” Sam sounded tired. He looked it, too. Purple bags under his eyes were made starker by the unhealthy pallor of his face. “How are you?”

“I’m good. Are you okay?” she asked, arranging her features into a concerned look. “You look exhausted.”

Sam blinked a few times. “Yeah, I’m good. Just all the stuff that’s happened around the prison. Tommy, you know?”

No mention of Techno. Nothing about the lies, about how he and Quackity had pulled him away from his damn birthday party to lure him in. Niki nodded understandingly. “I’m sure it’ll all work out in the end,” she said. Then she held out the box. “I made you a pie. Felt like you might need a pick me up on guard duty so often.”

A small smile appeared on Sam’s face. “Thanks, Niki. I really appreciate that.” He took the box, opening it to find a pumpkin pie and cutlery taped to the side. “Pumpkin! My favorite.”

“I was hoping I remembered right.” Niki smiled again. There was a chance it wouldn’t work, she knew. That Sam would set it aside for later. But he had a parentlike streak. Niki had seen it in his interactions with Tommy. So she tweaked her gaze, made it subtly more hopeful and excited. Sam noticed, and freed the fork from the side of the box. He relaxed a little at the first bite of the comfort food and immediately ate more. “It’s good?” Niki asked sweetly.

Sam nodded. “It’s amazing. Thank you, Niki, really. I needed this.” He swallowed another bite, and two things that would oppose each other happened. First, his eyes widened with panic. Then they began turning glassy. “What…” his knees buckled, and he slowly slid down the pillar before falling sideways. 

It had worked. Niki and Jack had been playing around for a while. Mixing potions together, testing the effects. They’d found a combination Jack had named Aurora’s Poison. Weakness, slowness, the scantest drop of harming, and a ground up petal from a wither rose. Death without stillness.

Sam’s face had taken on a bluish tinge, but his chest still moved up and down. His eyes were half open. “Niki… ” he mumbled, “help.”

Finally, the facade could fall. Niki’s smile turned into a cold smirk. She squatted beside him, strands of pink hair falling into her face. “Oh, Sam.” His lighter had fallen from his pocket. She picked it up and sparked it, studying the flame before looking back at him. “You don’t deserve my help.”

There was the faintest glimmer of realization in his eyes before they closed for good. “Sweet dreams, Warden. The Syndicate sends its regards,” Niki murmured. She stood. Let Quackity try to wake him. He was a living corpse.

She stepped back into the rain, her boots the only sound on the prime path as she returned to the underground bunker Techno had left in his instructions. Phil and Ranboo were already inside and suited up. There were two more pairs of netherite armor on stands against the back wall. One was for her. The second was for Techno.

“How’d it go?” Phil asked. 

“Perfectly,” she replied, tying the straps of the chestplate. Phil’s armor had two bumps on the back, designed specifically to accommodate his wings. He had his sword in hand, shield leaning against his wall. A crossbow and quiver were slung across his back, and Techno’s sword hung from his belt. “Didn’t know what hit him.”

Ranboo looked the calmest Niki had ever seen him. Normally, he fidgeted constantly. Now, his hands were still, aside from the way they drifted to his axe handle. His face was set determinedly, and his crown hung from his armor stand, swapped out for a helmet. He’d been the one to get them the armor. It shone with the best enchantment the server could offer. Niki had known he was rich, but she hadn’t realized exactly how much he’d been sitting on. Her jaw had nearly dropped when, before they set out, he passed a totem to each of them.

“Need help?” he asked, taking half a step towards her when she started struggling with her gauntlets.

“I’ve got it.” Ranboo returned to the wall. He began tracing the blade of his axe lightly with his finger.

When she’d finally gotten all her armor in place, Niki crossed to the rack of weapons. She seized her bow and a quiver of harming arrows, slinging them across her back. She and Phil were the contingency plans if they were somehow pursued. Finally, she picked up her own axe. Its enchantments hummed, sending thrills up her arm. “Ready.”

“Ranboo?” Phil asked. The teenager nodded. “Alright, then.” He flicked the lever by the door. The sound of breaking glass filled the air as potion bottles broke. Niki felt the difference immediately, her bones strengthening with the magic. “Let’s go.”

-

Phil had known anger before. His life had been too long not to. There had been a time, before Techno, before Wilbur, that he let it consume him. Then Techno had arrived, and it was like impulse control had been installed. They were still formidable, of course, but Phil didn’t seek war anymore. 

He knew grief, too. He knew the way it moved, the way it played with you until you wanted to sink beneath its waves and drown. It had consumed him after Wil’s death. He could hardly bring himself to clean his sword before he fell into a stupor in front of the fireplace. It had been Techno, again, who pulled him out of it. Who’d given him a new sword and convinced him to play war games until the sight of blood didn’t send him vomiting to the bathroom. There would be no Techno to pull him out if this went wrong. Phil might as well be dead too. 

Ranboo and Niki followed him out of the bunker. The streets were empty as they silently made their way to the prison. 

They didn’t bother to ring the bell. The three of them stood in the portal until reality straightened itself out. Phil had Techno’s will clutched in his hand. The bundle of papers had been empty, at first, until a few days ago. Writing had begun appearing, in Dream’s messy, spiked scrawl. Sam was a fool, Phil thought. He couldn’t take away Techno’s knowledge of spells.

He strode to the corner of the little room they were in. A loose tile was there, easily unnoticeable if you weren’t looking for it. Phil lifted it and threw it to the side. There was a loud crack when it hit the wall. He flipped the lever beneath it. “Thirty seconds before it resets,” he said, returning to the portal. Niki and Ranboo followed suit, and the prison constructed itself around them.

It was all so darkly decorated. Alright, edgelord, Phil thought sarcastically. They bypassed the waver on its lectern and the lockers to the side. Phil flicked the levers according to the code Techno had written. A door opened, and they took the tunnel  Sam used into the next room. 

Their way through the prison was marked by similar proceedings, and Phil’s mind was left to go on autopilot. 

Techno knew it was a trap. He’d told him so a week ago, standing in the snow outside their houses. The moment he was out of sight, Phil had opened the will. He’d thought the message of the empty papers was clear: do what you want, lol. 

So he’d gone to the stasis chambers and waited by the levers. Three days, he gave himself. Then he’d hit the lever, and Techno would be home safe. 

Then it was four days, and Phil wasn’t sure why he’d waited longer. The pearls were a safety blanket. Using them would make things better. Unless what they revealed made it worse.

Then, on the fifth day, he’d woken up to a scratchy, crinkly noise from the will. Scrambling out of bed, he’d turned the pages over, and found the ink still wet. And what had Techno written, first thing? 

PHIL, DON’T USE THE PEARLS. I NEED THE VIEWS FROM A COOL ESCAPE.

 The dramatic little shit. But Techno had lain out his plan, and like always, it was smart. Phil had gathered the Syndicate, and they’d been ready. 

A hint of nerves appeared in Ranboo’s eyes when they passed the iron door into the main cell area. Phil understood it. When they’d hung out, Ranboo told him how it was the point of no return, in a way. They all remembered what happened to Tommy. But Ranboo had three lives, Phil assured himself, and hoped the teen remembered too. He’d be fine. So would Niki. And Techno.

They travelled through the respawn checkpoints and extra rooms until they were in front of the lava wall. Ranboo glanced at the bed. “Should we set our spawn here?”

Phil shrugged. “I wouldn’t want to be spawn-trapped in here, but if you want to, go ahead.” Ranboo looked at the ground. Remorse tugged at Phil. “Sorry. Just a joke,” he said. Ranboo nodded.

Waiting for the lava to come down would take too long. Phil threw a few potions of fire resistance down on them and flipped the lever so the bridge would be safe when they returned. Then, with Ranboo and Niki standing on the bridge, he flipped the lever. He ran and leapt onto the bridge with the help of the jump boost pots from earlier. 

The flames surrounded them in orange light. They couldn’t see each other. The lava tickled, almost, drying them off from the rain outside.

They came out the other side with a few blocks between them and the cell. Phil blinked a few times, readjusting to the low light, and froze. He hadn’t expected to be greeted by what was there.

-

Ranboo worried. It was in his nature. So of course, when he’d heard the plan, he took precautions for failure. 

Tubbo was back in Snowchester with Jack by his request. They were in the control room, with a nuke armed and ready to hit the prison. Michael would be there too. Ranboo had made Tubbo promise not to let him out of his sight. Ranboo had never been more grateful for his husband’s habit of not asking questions.

His comms had been burning a hole in his pocket the whole way here. One message and it would all go up. 

Now, though, he forgot all about the nukes as the bridge came to a stop at the cell block. Anger took its place. “Quackity,” he said in a near growl, “what are you doing.” 

The scene before them looked like a horror movie. Blood, dry and fresh, coated the floor of the cell. Dream –– Dream –– was curled in the corner, shaking. Quackity stood in the middle of the room with a sword in his hand, grinning. And Techno. 

Ranboo’s friend was standing by the back wall. His cape was torn. He was bleeding, too, but Ranboo couldn’t tell from where. He did, however, see the way Techno was just barely leaning against the wall behind him. His heart clenched.

“Oh, hey guys,” Techno said. Despite everything, his voice still came out strong and unbothered. “Nice timing.”

“Hey, guys.” Quackity flipped the sword in his grip so the point was against the ground, then leaned on the hilt. “Surprise seeing you here.” His easy grin didn’t reach his eye. 

Ranboo vaguely remembered a day in old L’Manburg. He and Quackity had shared a pot of coffee and talked about Ranboo’s thoughts on people versus sides. He’d felt like Quackity understood. He’d thought he’d befriended someone who wouldn’t betray him. “Quackity,” he repeated, lifting his axe, “what are you doing.” 

Behind him, Niki and Phil were moving. He didn’t pay attention to their movements, just trusting them to be ready.

“Ranboo,” Quackity said. “I get you’re probably mad. I saw you at Techno’s party, you two are friends. So first, I’m sorry you had to see this.” I bet you are, Ranboo thought. “Second, I’m only doing it because Techno’s a threat. I can’t let him be out in the world, causing problems.” 

“You. Are. Torturing. Him,” Ranboo said. “Both of them!” 

“Eh, Dream’s had it worse,” Techno shrugged.

“Shut up,” Quackity snapped. Ranboo’s temper snapped.

Of all the people in the room, Quackity probably hadn’t expected Ranboo to make the first move. It took him two steps to reach him, three more to shove him back against the wall. He held his axe to Quackity’s throat. “Who’s next on your list, huh?” he snarled. “Who’s the next ‘threat’ you’re gonna take out?”

Quackity’s eyes flashed. “Well, I hadn’t been thinking on it much,” he grinned, “but Tubbo and that outpost aren’t exactly making me feel comfortable.”

A furious scream built in Ranboo’s throat. He drew back his axe, to do what he didn’t know ––

“Ranboo?” It was Dream, looking up at him. For a moment, Ranboo was thrown into chaos. He couldn’t tell if it was really Dream, or all in his head. A small blade pierced the chink in his armor. He stumbled back, blinking, and the time it took for him to rip the cork from a Regen pot and pour it over the spot was all Quackity needed to ruin his advantage. 

He launched himself at Ranboo. Phil intercepted him, netherite screaming as their swords collided. Niki was by Techno, offering him Healing and Regen while he leaned more heavily on the wall.

The moment the prickling in his gut subsided, Ranboo threw himself into the fight. Phil was quickly left out, which he seemed alright with. From the corner of his eye Ranboo saw him kneeling by Techno as well. 

He hadn’t expected the fight to be so short, for his part. Anger fueled him, and something else. The Enderwalk, rising up in his unsteady mental state and giving him strength he didn’t know he had.

Cuts opened on Quackity’s limbs. His laughter turned to panting in the confined space. “This all you’ve got?” he yelled, out of breath. He tripped, stumbled, and fell against the wall near the lava. 

Ranboo stood over him, axe in hand and red with blood. The natural course from here was to end it, right? Kill Quackity, kick him into lava? But the day in L’Manberg wouldn’t leave his head.

“You can’t do it, can you?” Quackity said. Somehow he managed to look relaxed, leaning against the obsidian as blood soaked his clothes. “I remember being that weak. It was awful. Really, Ranboo, don’t mess with me. The house always wins. You don’t want to start this.”

“Oh, shut up.” Ranboo swung his axe, and the handle collided with Quackity’s head. He slumped against the wall, eyes closed. Blood trickled from beneath his hair, but his chest still rose and fell. Ranboo left him there and returned to his friends.

Niki and Phil had taken care of most of Techno’s injuries, though he had his arms around their shoulders. “I can walk by myself, guys, seriously,” he said, but was immediately cut off by the two of them saying “bullshit” in unison. “Well, one of you needs to get Dream,” he said.

They paused. “Dream?” Niki asked incredulously. 

“Yeah. Look at him, Quackity’s been giving him hell.” He glanced at Ranboo. “But hey, Syndicate rules, remember? You guys don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna. You can go ahead on the bridge and send it back to us.”

Ranboo and Niki shared a glance. They had both been citizens of L’Manberg. They had both been victims of Dream in some way. Ranboo knew Phil had helped destroy L’Manberg like it was a business deal, but he would agree with Techno. They wouldn’t follow Dream, but they’d help him. And as pathetic as the man looked in the corner of the cell, Ranboo couldn’t bring himself to do the same.

He looked Techno in the eye. “This doesn’t change my loyalty to the Syndicate. I just can’t justify helping Dream. I’ll still stand with you in other matters.”

“Got it.” Techno grinned. “Just don’t trap us in here again.”

Ranboo returned the smile, stepping onto the bridge. Niki followed him. “Sorry, Techno,” she said. “But I agree with Ranboo. He’s done too much to hurt me.”

Techno nodded. Niki knocked an arrow and shot it across the now empty pit. It hit the button on the other side, and the bridge began moving. When they reached the other side, Niki removed it from the button before hitting it once more.

“You can go ahead,” Ranboo said. “I’ll bring them back.”

Niki smiled at him. “Thanks. You fought well, Ranboo. See you at the next meeting.” She disappeared back into Sam’s tunnels, which Phil had left open.

Ranboo waited until Phil and Techno were safely on the bridge, Dream draped between them, to press the button one final time. Before it had reached full speed, he was traversing the tunnels himself, moving back towards Snowchester and his family. Quackity would find a way out of the prison, he knew. Tubbo and he would need to be ready.

#dream smp #dreamsmp #dsmp #dsmp fanfic #dsmp fic #dream smp fanfiction #dream smp fic #nihachu #philza minecraft #philza #ranboo #technoblade #dream #pandoras vault #awesamdude #quackity

[the-unknown-storyteller]

concern for a friend

(week #1, prompt 3: excitement)

tw: mentions of derealisation, panic

Summary: Ranboo is working on the watchtower, as Ghostbur wanders off as the self-designated snack man. When the ghost doesn't return for quite some while, Ranboo is starting to worry for his friend. Just where is Ghostbur? 

__

“I will be the snack man and get us some snacks. You work on that tower real good and I’ll get us something, alright? Do you like savory or sweet things? You know what, I’ll just get a bit of everything. I’ll be right back, oki?” 

Before Ranboo has a chance to react, Ghostbur is up and running in the direction of Tommy’s dirt shack. Dusting off his pants from the climb, the ghost waves enthusiastically from the top of the hill, then disappears behind some trees and shrubbery. Ranboo releases a sigh, smiling fondly at the antics of the ghost. He gets out a stack of spruce logs and starts building up the pillars to the skies. He wonders why Tommy needs the watchtower to be this tall. Surely, it would have been enough if it was one or two thirds of its current height, it’s not like none of them have tridents. He’s pretty sure most of them have access to enderpearls as well. 

Nonetheless, he keeps to the height given by Tommy, diligently placing the spruce logs and replacing the strange purple planks at the sides with dark oak instead. It won’t be the prettiest watchtower, but it’ll be enough. Maybe Ghostbur can improve its design.

Speaking of the ghost, he’s been gone for quite a while now. Ranboo knows that he is more than capable of taking care of himself. But then he thinks of the ghost’s memory issues and his own problems with keeping himself tethered to the real world sometimes, blinking the wrong way and suddenly finding himself in an unfamiliar place. It’s happened one too many times for the enderman hybrid to be quite comfortable with this situation. (If Tubbo hadn’t found him that one time, he doesn’t know what would have happened. He doesn’t like to think about it.)

Ranboo begins to pack up his things, putting away the spruce logs in a chest and strapping his sword and axe to his back instead. Tommy will forgive him if the tower isn’t finished by tomorrow. He hadn’t given him a deadline, anyway.

He begins his journey up the hill, rounding the trees and shrubbery he saw Ghostbur disappear behind a couple hours ago and following the path towards Tommy’s abode. He keeps an eye on his surroundings and mentally takes note of anything that appears out of place. The air gets significantly colder, as the last rays of the sun disappear behind the horizon. It was getting late. He adjusts the leather straps of his weapons.

“Ghostbur?”, Ranboo calls out, knocking at the wooden door of Tommy’s shack. No answer. He opens the door with a creak and looks inside. There are some chests along the wall, a few of them placed smack in the middle of the place. He can hear the vrwooping sounds of an enderchest nearby, but no humming of a particularly musical ghost. He takes a step inside and makes his way down the stairs on the right, but nothing. The place is empty. 

He leaves the dirt shack behind and runs down the prime path, frantically turning his head from side to side, in the hopes that he spots the yellow of Ghostbur’s sweater or the red of his beanie. But no such luck.

“Ghostbur?!!” Ranboo starts calling the ghost’s name, noting how eerily empty and abandoned this place is. He spends all his time in the Arctic Commune or, more recently, in Snowchester, so he’s never stayed here long enough to notice, but this place feels dead. He can feel something crawl up his arms, shooting through his hands and making him shake them violently. 

“Ghostbur, where are you?!” He sends out a quick message to his friend, but there’s no response. Something isn’t right. The ghost should have responded by now. One might think that he would lose his communicator often, with his spotty memory and his clumsy tendency to lose most other things. But he’s actually never lost it and he always answers. 

“It’s fine, he’s fine. He probably just got fixated on a flower or went overboard on the snacks. He gets over-excited like that,” Ranboo reasons, taking the path down towards L’Manhole. The glass, preserving what was never meant to be, reflects the darkening sky above. He keeps a wide distance to the blown-up city, eyeing the red vines at its edges with worry. He sees neither yellow nor any red nor any blue, so he turns around and leaves the dead space to its own.

“Ghostbur??” Why isn’t he answering?! Night has fallen completely by now, the new moon trying its hardest to plunge Ranboo’s surroundings in complete darkness, but he just takes out a torch and lights the matchstick with a practiced flick of his wrist against the ground. 

The half-enderman roams the perimeters around Eret’s museum, focusing his hearing towards the near distance. Besides the undead groaning of zombies and the quiet clattering of skeletons, he can’t make out much more. Except for a quiet hiss. He barely has time to react, as he hears an explosion go off in the distance. Before he knows it, he is up and running in that direction. Images of a hurt Ghostbur, running through his brain. “Ghostbur!!” 

And then, he hears yelling and noises that sounds like sobbing and it makes him vwroop in panic and distress. His friend is in danger, his friend is in danger. He feels a lurch in his stomach and blinks across the field, reappearing at the steps of Eret’s museum. Doesn’t Eret usually spawn-proof his builds? Doesn’t matter right now. Ranboo runs up the steps, skipping the last flight, as he blinks out and appears in the middle of the build. Not here. Further away, beyond the wall. He takes out his trident and places some water, jumping the wall. 

During the highpoint of his jump, he can make out yellow and red and a lot of blue just beyond the river. He lets out a series of distressed noises and blinks away. His hands are starting to shake from jumping this often, but his friend is hurt, hurt, hurt and he has to hurry. 

He stumbles through his landing and tridents across the river, landing close to what is definitely Ghostbur hunched over, surrounded by blue, why is there so much blue?!! “Ghostbur??” He tentatively reaches for his friend and touches his shoulder lightly. The ghost snaps his head up, staring at the enderman hybrid. He flinches back in shock, blinking away a few metres further.

“Ranboo!!”, the ghost calls out, jumping from his position on the ground. “Oh my goodness, I must have totally lost track of the time. You see, I was walking along the prime path, looking for some snacks when I saw- oh, the snacks, Ranboo! I totally forgot about the snacks!! ” The ghost pats down his pants, then shuffles through the bag at his side. “Sorry, bread is all I have on me. You want some?” Ghostbur offers some fluffy bread rolls, but Ranboo is too stunned to react. Adrenalin is still running high in his bloodstream, making him tense and freeze up. What is happening? 

“Not a fan of bread rolls? Oh well, more for me and friend- oh my gosh, Ranboo, look who I found in the woods!!” Getting off-track again, Ghostbur whirls around and pulls something blue and fluffy towards the perplexed enderman. “I found friend!! He was just grazing on some grass and when he saw me, I saw that look in his eyes that told me that I should follow him and so I did! I don’t quite understand why he brought me here, this just seems like a normal clearing to me, but I mean, I trust him, he knows what he’s doin-” The excited rambles of the ghost are cut off by the heavy weight of two hands on his shoulders. He looks up and is met with the shiny wet eyes of a certain enderman hybrid. “Ranboo? What’s wrong?”, come the soft questions, as the ghost realizes that something must be wrong.

“Please never do that again.”

“Never do what again, Ranboo? I was just getting some snacks like I told you when I met an old friend, haha-”

“I understand that you are more than capable of taking care of yourself, but you have to understand that you didn’t return for hours and hours until the sun set.” Ranboo takes a shuddering breath. “You didn’t return and you didn’t respond to my messages and then I heard an explosion go off in the distance and then I saw all that blue and I thought you got hurt and I-” His tail flicks nervously from side to side, thumping against the ground every now and then in distress.

“Ranboo, Ranboo. Listen, listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise that it was getting this late. I got distracted by friend and didn’t look at my communicator for a while.” The ghost takes out a light blue rock from his bag and hands it to the other. “Here, this will calm you down. Take some blue.”

“Thanks, Ghostbur.”

#dream smp fic #dream smp fanfic #dsmp ranboo #dsmp ghostbur #emotional hurt/comfort #dsmp big bang bootcamp #ranboo #ghostbur #dream smp

[haymaker-mva]

A different choice, a different chance

Part 1/2: Desperada

So I've fucking given up on my “mental health break.” No sleep for the wicked!

This fic’s pretty much, “What if Marinette picked Luka for the snake miraculous first, and what would happen if that led to her realizing that what she was pretty much a stalker?”

Enjoy the fic that my brain spawned and would not let me leave alone!

1 - 2

“W-wow…” Alya stuttered in surprise. “It never hit me that the plans we did messed with others… It just seemed so harmless at the time…”

“That’s the same thought I had. It seemed like just being a schoolgirl with a crush, but I really have gone too far, haven’t I?”

-

Ladybug looked between Adrien Agreste and Luka Couffine. She had one snake miraculous, and two guys to choose from. After casting her luck charm, Ladybug had gone to get backup, telling Adrien and Luka to go hide. She set up Luka’s guitar with the pigeons and escaped. She quickly retrieved the snake miraculous from Master Fu, and went on her way. As she flew back through the city, Ladybug’s mind drifted.

For some strange reason that seemed specifically like a crush, Mainette had chosen Adrien to play with Jagged instead of Luka, who was much more suited for the job. The guilt ate at Marinette, but Ladybug had to get her head in the game.

Ladybug slid into the sewers again, and began calling out to Luka and Adrien. She had to make sure they were safe, and perhaps give one of them the miraculous she currently held if her instincts were leading her the right way.

She heard Luka answer her, and she made her way towards his voice and quickly found them in a normal tunnel. Adrien and Luka were both there, though they seemed quite a bit worried.

Now back to where we were. Ladybug looked between Adrien and Luka. Her heart ached for her to choose Adrien, but her instincts pulled her towards Luka. She was so close to giving Adrien the snake… but then the guilt from Marinette’s earlier mistake smacked her in the brain. Ladybug shook her head to clear her thoughts, and grabbed Adrien’s wrist.

“Luka, go hide around that corner. I have to hide Adrien somewhere else, I’ll be back to make sure you’re safe.”

-

Adrien ran through the sewers with Luka, just trying to get away from the akuma. Every time Adrien tried to lag behind or get lost around a corner, Luka would find him and make sure they weren’t separated. It was nice to have a friend that cared so much, but Adrien needed to become Chat Noir, and Luka was making it ten times harder!

After Kwami knows how long of this, Ladybug found them again thanks to Luka’s loud voice. Adrien could tell what this was; Ladybug went to get backup. He knew his partner. A tiny war waged in his head. On one hand, being chosen by Ladybug would be great. But on the other hand, Adrien was Chat Noir, and being chosen would not be so great.

So when Ladybug pulled him aside, his heart both sank and soared. His Lady truste him outside of the mask too…! But he needed to be Chat Noir…

Ladybug pulled them into a locker room, and paused to catch her breath. She opened a locker, and motioned for him to get inside.

What?

Ladybug wasn’t choosing him? So what was she doing? Noticing the confusion on Adrien’s face, Ladybug elaborated.

“I needed to spit you two up to make it harder for Desperada to get you both in one go. I also need to find that dang cat, and find some backup,” Ladybug griped. She collected herself and let out a breath. “Anyway, go hide and only come out when you see the ladybugs.” Ladybug waved and ran out of the locker room, shutting the door behind her and leaving Adrien conflicted.

Was it good or bad that Ladybug didn’t give his alter ego another miraculous?

-

Soon the fight was over and the miraculous ladybug was cast, and everything was back to normal. Well, not exactly. Seeds of doubt had been planted in Marinette’s head…

-

As Marinette sat on her bed after the fight, she replayed a lot of scenes in her head. All of them about Adrien. All the times she messed something up, hurt someone, or sacrificed something because of him,in one way or another. There were too many times. Heck, it happened just that day with Luka and playing with Jagged!

Marinette’s mind flashed back to the day that Manon got akumatized into Puppeteer the second time. Adrien had specifically mentioned loving another girl, as well as indirectly and almost actually rejecting her.

All of a sudden, she felt stupid.

He never loved her, and she didn’t want to hurt yet another person, especially him, trying to obtain Adrien’s affections. Marinette frowned sadly. She really had hurt so many people. Granted, she always apologized and fixed things. Take Kagami for example! They got orange juice together pretty much every week. But that didn’t change the fact that she had still hurt people with her stalkerish schemes.

And looking at her wall, she followed the thought that she had also crossed over into stalker territory. Not just her wall, Marinette had even stolen his phone at one point! Gotten his bodyguard in trouble! Invaded his room as Ladybug, and took full advantage of his trust in her. She wasn’t even properly friends with him; she could barely speak a word in his presence!

Marinette facepalmed. How could she ever have dreamed of dating a guy that she couldn’t talk to? She remembered something her mother told her a long time ago, when she had started liking guys.

“Remember, Marinette. Don’t choose the better guy, choose the guy that makes you the better girl. Never go for the one that brings the worst out in you. It’ll only lead to disaster if you can’t control yourself.”

Marinette had never really taken that advice into consideration, because of her short list of crushes. But now it was all she could think of. Why did she even like Adrien? She could barely recall. She told herself it was his personality, the kindness he displayed, the trust he had in others… But that was just his naivety, wasn’t it? She liked him because he was afraid of losing his friends by being anything but polite. Adrien only went after her so that she wouldn’t hate him. Their class was small, of course he wouldn’t want to have any enemies.

Marinette slapped her cheeks. She wouldn’t think bad of Adrien. Even if he was her crush, and she was a bad one herself, he was still her friend.

I think I need to call Alya.

-

“I think I’ve gone too far with Adrien.” Was the first words that rushed out of her mouth. Cringing at the implication, she rephrased. “As in, my crush has gone too far.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where is this coming from?” Alya responded.

“I chose Adrien today. To play guitar. Over Luka, who is literally in a popular band, and would you look at that! Plays a guitar.” Marinette deadpanned, sitting down in her desk chair. “I’ve also conspired with Chloe to ruin Kagami’s dress, stolen his phone, gotten his bodyguard in trouble with a police officer, literally have his schedule mapped out and memorized, and my walls are covered in his face. And that’s just to start.” The words tumbled out of her, and though she knew it was bad, seeing it all out on the table was unsettling. Knowing she had done all that.

She really was a stalker at this point.

“W-wow…” Alya stuttered in surprise. “It never hit me that the plans we did messed with others… It just seemed so harmless at the time…”

“That’s the same thought I had. It seemed like just being a schoolgirl with a crush, but I really have gone too far, haven’t I?” Marinette said, placing the phone in front of her computer, which was displaying Adrien’s face.

She put her face in her hands, elbows resting on the desk.

“I think we’ve all gone too far.” Alya stated, surprising Marinette. “My job as your bestie is to even you out and tell you when it’s time to calm down. But I didn’t even notice.”

“Nonono, Alya it’s not your fault I went crazy.” Marinette told her best friend. It really wasn’t any of her friends' fault. “Let’s move past that though. What now?”

“Huh?”

“What do I do now? I can’t let this keep happening. Something needs to change.”

“Maybe tone down your advances? Get rid of the schedule? This doesn’t mean you have to give up, it just tells us that we need to rethink our strategy” Alya suggested.

“I… I think I have to move on.”

“What?! Why?” Alya exclaimed. Marinette could imagine her face, Alya’s eyes wide and her glasses slightly slipping.

“Face it Al’s, I can’t even talk to him. He loves another girl, and that girl is most likely Kagami. And she and him are possibly dating. I’m still friends with her, I can’t ruin their relationship.” Marinette sighed, her mind conjuring up Kagami and hers’ orange juice meetups. Marinette couldn’t do that to someone she considered a friend. A rival in love would be okay, but Kagami had clearly won over Adrien. So, Marinette had to move on.

“I… It’s just strange to think about you not being in love with Adrien.” Alya puzzled.

“Honestly, I understand the feeling.” Marinette took a deep breath and leaned back in her chair. She snapped forward, “But we’re gonna have to get used to it!” She declared, standing up and bringing her arms up determinately.

From that point forward, she really did.

1 - 2

#miraculous les aventures de ladybug et chat noir #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #ml #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #mlb #adrienette sinks #adrigami #is cute #fite me #a dash of #lukanette #because my lukanette heart won't let me live #i mean I'm kinda salty about marinettes behavior? #salt #?? #idk #enjoy this dump of me wanting my babey to finally mOVE ON #marinette salt #marinette sugar #desperado au #a different choice a different chance #adcadc

[s-creations]

Return the Flames - Chapter 8

All at Dead Bird Studios knew of Amos' (The  Conductor's) ability. How the owl could suddenly erupt into flames if  angered enough. When the studio first opened, Dominic (DJ Grooves) was  told that Amos had his ability under control. Nothing to worry about. No  possible loss of anything from an open flame.

A few years later however, and that control seems to have lessened to a dangerous degree.

It should have just been a simple, week long drive to fix the problem. It really should have been.

Dominic should have asked a lot more questions and should have been prepared for a twist ending.

_________________

Fandom: A Hat in Time     Rating: General Audience     Relationships/Pairings: The ConductorXDJ Grooves   Warnings: Eventual depictions of violence, slow burn relationship, named characters, attempt of an accent, being hunted down, a race against time (sort of).

“What do you think about these?”

 Amos was not prepared to be greeted with Dominic wearing the largest, ‘normal’ pair of sunglasses the owl had ever seen . So startled, Amos laughed hard, pulling the glasses off of Dominic’s face. Who was looking rather smug.

 “Yer peckin’ crazy. I know ya like the gaudy, but I don’t think ya could pull that off.”

 “Are you saying my charm is not enough? I’m rather upset about that.”

 “Guess ya have a limit.”

 “I don’t believe you.”

 They shared another laugh as Amos placed the sunglasses back on the spinning rack. 

 It was their sixth day out. Around this time they should have been returning home if they weren’t being hunted down. But now they were one day away from finally arriving. Which neither of them were too worried about. They hadn’t run into C.A.W. again. They were doing well when it came to their money. Amos hadn’t even had another flare as they had experienced at the beginning of this journey. All was going well in their mind.

 After that day spent at the fair, the relationship between them seemed to have become...stranger. Amos wasn’t sure what to call what was happening. So odd to know that the bird he once called an enemy had given him such care and comfort. A hard hit of reality came when he realized wouldn’t have gotten this far without Dominic. Once as rivals, now… 

 Friends? More? How the peck was he supposed to tell?

 Amos shuffled nervously as he pretended to be trying to select a bag of chips. His attention darted over to the penguin, who was further down the same aisle. 

 The owl wasn’t sure what to make of this growing bond between the two. If he was going to be honest with himself, Amos couldn’t tell the last time someone took care of him. Probably his mother. Before she passed away. After that, it was him against the world. Now Amos has this over-the-top dressed penguin who could wear platform shoes that could kill anyone else watching out for him. One who didn’t seem to be deterred that the owl was a walking bonfire with a target on his back. Amos was worried he was putting a bit too much hope into these kind actions. 

 “You ready to go Sweetheart?”

 “Huh, uh, aye. ‘M ready. I’ll meet ya at the counter.” Amos’ heart fluttered, the flame flickering dangerously as Dominic passed by with a warm smile.

 It didn’t help the owl’s predicament when Dominic decided to give such an affectionate nickname. Amos had thought it was a one time slip up. Until the penguin used the same term the next day. And the day after that. Dominic seemed to have exchanged the nickname over Amos’ proper name.

 That had to mean something...right?

 Don’t fall for this. Don’t jump from that ledge. You weren’t even planning to return from this. Now you want to pick out towels with this guy? And how is that fair to him? Pull Dominic along and then abandon him. Let him see your body burn as you pass away. How romantic. 

 He͉ de͕ser͜ves̩ ͟so͢ ̼much̠ ̦b̝e͇t͎t͕e̖ṛ ͜than ̻y̦ou and y̟ou̝ k͇n̜ow itͅ.

 Amos had subdued his heart when he joined Dominic at the counter. The penguin gave another smile, one that Amos tried to reciprocate. If the furrowed brows were any indication, Dominic didn’t find the gesture believable. 

 They left the small convenient store, bags in each arm as they made their way back to the car. Which was parked a few blocks away. A decision made by the two of them in case they needed to lose an unwelcomed party member. 

 “Come on, just try a piece.” Dominic offered, holding out a small strip of salmon skin jerky. Amos' face twisted in disgust. 

 “Get that peckin’ stench stick away from me.”

 The penguin merely laughed before eating the strip. Amos rolled his eyes...only to freeze, heart hammering. A familiar crow was standing at the corner of the street they were approaching. The crowd passed by as if it was normal for a large bird to just stand in the middle of the sidewalk. 

 Amos frantically reached out and grabbed for Dominic’s arm. To stop the penguin who kept moving forward, completely unaware of what was now blocking their path. 

 “Amos-”

 “Just ahead.”

 Dominic faced forward, eyes widening in fear seeing the crow as well. “...Okay. Let’s backtrack. We can get to the car another way.”

 “Right…” Amos turned, only to find a row of crows blocking their exit strategy. The owls became nervously aware of how empty the surrounding streets suddenly became. 

 “Hello, Phoenix spawn.” The lone crow spoke. Amos assumed this was the same who’d spoken to them before . “It would do your health well to turn yourself in. An exit for you in this situation seems very unlikely. 

 “Last I checked, ya peck necks’ wanted ta kill me.” Amos growled.

 “Then do so for the health of your companion. We will allow him to leave, unharmed, if you come with us.”

 “I highly doubt that offer is very genuine.” Dominic replied. 

 The crow huffed. “You are surrounded. Without a moving wall of metal to protect you. There is no way out for you.”

 “Did ya seem ta forget about the flame burnin’ within me that I can use ta burn ya peck necks.” 

 “Do you want to take the risk, to possibly burn another building down?”

 Amos growled dangerously, feathers puffing up. He stepped forwards, to do what he wasn’t sure, only for Dominic to grip his hand. “Don’t. We need to run.”

 “What are ya suggestin’.”

 “There’s an alleyway behind us. If we can distract them, we can make a break for it and circle back for the car. Hope you were too attached to your purchases.”

 “If it means I don’t have ta worry about yer salmon jerky, then let's toss them.”

 “Fair enough.”

 The surrounding crows let out squawks of  surprise when plastic bags were flung their way. The contents opening and splattering on the ground and over themselves. 

 Dominic didn’t wait, grabbing Amos’ hand and pulling him towards the mentioned alleyway. It was a small sense of relief seeing that there was another exit to this place. The penguin worried he’d actually lead them into a dead end. He heard numerous footsteps following closing in. The agents had clearly recovered quickly from their lethal attack. 

 They turned left as soon as they escaped the alleyway. A clear shot to the car was before them. All nearby agents had apparently decided that being part of the show was more important than setting up a proper perimeter. 

 “Idiot peck necks!” Amos smirked. 

 “Don’t get overconfident!” Dominic warned, keys already in hand. 

 “They ain’t gonna catch us! Keep doin’ the same peckin’ thin’, thinkin’ they’re gonna trip us-”

 Amos winced when something hit his neck. Reaching up, the owl pulled out a dart. The center of it hollow with some remnant of a blue liquid that had been held inside. 

 He was suddenly hit with a numbingly cold sensation. He collapsed, his limbs submitting to the cold and stopped working. It almost felt as if he had just lost them, as if his appendages had disappeared. Breathing became a struggle as he laid on the sidewalk. Heart hammering as all he could do was watch as the agents closed in. He couldn’t even call his flame, it felt as if he’d never had it. It hurt so much.

 Amos heard someone call his name. But he wasn’t able to respond. All he could do was watch with increasing fear as the agent continued to draw closer. 

 He wasn’t sure if he blinked or passed out for a second from whatever was injected into him. But Amos was shocked when a wall of ice suddenly appeared before him. Effectively cutting the agents from their path. It was the last confusing thought, wondering where that ice had suddenly come from, before he was picked up and the darkness of unconsciousness swallowed him. 

 ___________________

 Dominic’s hands were shaking as he clutched the steering wheel. Even as the miles added up in the distance set between them and the city, the penguin was still absolutely terrified. His eyes traveled up to the rear view mirror, which was pointed towards the backseat. 

 Amos was draped over the entire seat. An arm dangling off the side, the owl sleeping (Dominic hoped so, please let him just be asleep) on his stomach. He hadn’t moved, only making small noises when the care would hit a particularly hard bump. It was the only way that Dominic knew that Amos was still alive. 

 The penguin had been absolutely terrified when Amos just dropped. His heart hammering as he raced back to his fallen companion. The agents actually slowing in their pursuit, as if knowing the owl wouldn’t be able to fight back. Dominic hadn't intended to build such a blockade. He only intended to make enough to ice the street, trip the agents up. 

 The adrenaline caused the ice wall. But in all honesty, Dominic was thankful for that coverage. 

 Now, it was a frantic search for some kind of help. Someone, anyone, who could tell Dominic what had happened to Amos.

 “No hospitals. That’s part of the government...right? Does it even matter? We’re so close to the mountains, they’ll probably narrow down which road we took,” Dominic’s eyes darted to the mirror again hearing Amos let out a groan, “I know Sweetheart, I know. I’m trying. Please just hold on…”

 Slowing the car, Dominic’s attention was drawn to a partially visible path. Narrow and primarily made of tamped dirt, it was hidden by the overgrown native foliage. Dominic knew there were small villages dotted around the mountain base. It was a rumor, anyway. A large gamble to think there would be anyone out there that could help. But the penguin wasn’t sure what else he could do.

 One last check to make sure they weren’t being followed and Dominic turned off the main road and down the hidden path. He wasn’t really sure how long he traveled for. Taking it slow as the road was horribly uneven and the car was not built for off road travel. But there was a wave of relief when the road cleared out and a village, an honest to everything village, appeared before him. 

 Dominic stopped the car a few feet back as to not scare the locals that had emerged from their domed huts and congregated near the end of the road. 

 “Please, I need… I need help. My friend’s in trouble. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.” Dominic rambled frantically.

 One of the smaller nomads parted from the crowd and joined the penguin. Gesturing for Dominic to lead the way back to the car. Upon seeing Amos, the villager called back to the awaiting crowd in a language the penguin didn’t understand. A few departed into the village proper. The nomad with Dominic gestured for the penguin to lift Amos out.

 “A-Alright…” Dominic was a gentle as he could be when taking the owl out. Amos let out a small noise of discomfort as he was moved. “I know, I’m sorry. You’ll feel better soon, I found help.”

 Cradling the owl close, Dominic was able to maintain composure as Amos desperately pressed against him. A hand clenching at the penguin’s shirt. Now was not the time to have an emotional breakdown as Dominic was led deeper to the village. The penguin watching as some of the larger nomads pushed the car into the wild foliage to hide it. 

 The village was relatively small, at least to Dominic’s opinion. He truly never seen another nomad dwelling to compare. He was being led down what he would consider the main street. Domed huts lining it with a few more placed further back, large trees providing protection from the sun. A few faces were peeking out from the huts with curious looks as the group passed.

 The tamped down path ended at a small market. Large and circular, with stands outlining it with a few more domed buildings on the opposite side from where Dominic stood. Which was where the penguin was led towards. As soon as they were spotted, a nomad draped in red cloth stepped forward. Standing before Dominic with their own arms stretched out.

 “Um…” The penguin turned to the nomad who had first helped him. They pointed to Amos before gesturing for the owl to be handed over to the red-dressed nomad. “Oh, no, I-I’m fine. I can carry him inside.”

 Dominic started moving towards the hut he’d seen the red-dressed nomad had exited from. Only to be grabbed by a larger nomad from his shoulder. The penguin panicked as Amos was rather forcefully pulled away and taken into the hut. A cloth dropping over the entrance and two more large nomads positioning next to it.

 “Wait, no, let me in! I-I need to know he’s okay! P-Please, please, I need to stay with him…”

 “He’s in good hands, dear visitor. I promise you. Please, I ask you to calm yourself.” Dominic turned to the voice behind him. An aged nomad had appeared. A large white beard draping out from his purple robes. Large, curled horns weighing his head down, a knotted staff to keep him upright as he walked. 

 “...Who are you?”

 “Ah, pardon me dear visitor. You may refer to me as the Elder. For that’s who I am.”

 “I’m Dominic. My friend, Amos, he’s in… I would like to join him to make sure he’s okay.”

 “I’m sorry, but we must leave our healers to work. Please, take a walk with me Dominic. We have a few things to discuss apparently.”

#A Hat In Time #discotrain #the conductor #dj grooves #s-creations #fanfiction #ahit conductor #ahit dj grooves #Multi-Chapter

[ambersky0319]

Fluff idea: Remus gets sick, and catch Deceit, Roman, and Logan worrying over him. Intruloceit, plus some of that nice brotherly love bc remrom is not allowed. Also, when he sneezes tiny octopi appear in various outfits and places. One ends up in Patton's tea and scares the shiz outta him. - Rayne

This wound up being waaaaay longer than I had planned- I hope y’all enjoyed though! (also answering two prompts now cause imma go to bed and I can)

Pairings : Intruloceit, Creativitwins

Warnings : Just someone being sick and a glass being broken, nothing really that huge though

Masterpost 

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The first sign something was off was when Logan woke up with only a bundle of snake curled around him. Normally both Remus and Deceit would barge in on Logan in the middle of the night to coax their workaholic boyfriend to bed. He thought he remembered them both being there. Logan just brushed it off, thinking maybe Remus had just woken up earlier than them.

He tightened his arms around Deceit, pressing soft kisses to the top of his head, fluffy and soft hair pressing into Logan's face. Deceit mumbled incoherently, shifting only slightly before relaxing again.

"Think it's time to get up, Dee," Logan whispered, pulling back only slightly so he could see Deceit's face. Deceit groaned, hiding his face in Logan's chest. "C'mon, I wanna make sure Remus isn't trying to make breakfast."

Deceit glanced up, his heterochromatic eyes looking as beautiful as ever to Logan. Logan smiled softly, bringing his hand to Deceit's hair and combing through it. Deceit made a soft sound of content before he pushed himself up and out of Logan's arms. Not without pressing a quick kiss to Logan's lips of course.

Logan followed, and Deceit escaped to his room after pressing one last kiss to Logan's cheek, going to get dressed. Logan changed into his usual polo and jeans, slipping on a tie that Remus had made him for Christmas before he deemed himself ready to get some breakfast.

When he walked into the main commons, however, he was surprised to find it quiet. Roman was at the table, drawing thoughtlessly in his sketchbook. Virgil was still sleeping on the couch, undoubtedly where he had fallen asleep during a Disney marathon with Roman. And Patton hadn't come down yet.

Arms wrapped around him from behind, a gentle kiss being pressed into his neck. Logan initially thought he'd found his missing boyfriend, but glancing over his shoulder he saw scales shimmering brilliantly in the morning light.

"I thought you said Remus was trying to make breakfast?" Deceit hummed, resting his chin on Logan's shoulder. Logan leaned into Deceit slightly, the warmth of his shorter love comforting.

"His room then?"

"I'll check if you start breakfast."

"Deal," Logan said as he turned to kiss Deceit. This kiss lasted longer and was far softer than their tired ones from only ten minutes ago. Deceit let him go again once they broke apart and turned to go back up the stairs. And so, Logan went into the kitchen, nodding at Roman when he waved and muttered a good morning. He started to pull out some bread and microwaveable pancakes.

Deceit, meanwhile, knocked on Remus's door. He was surprised when he received no response, and didn't hear any noise. He knew Remus wouldn't be in the Imagination today, as he'd only returned two days ago and Remus had claimed just yesterday he wanted to spend at least a week with Deceit and Logan.

He knocked again, louder this time in case Remus just hadn't heard.

Again, Deceit received no answer.

So he tried the doorknob and found Remus's room to be unlocked. He walked in without much hesitation, glancing around Remus's spotless room. It was easy to find Remus, with the lack of the mess that normally accumulated his room. He was bundled in numerous blankets, his stuffed animals lying not far from him, and his head burrowed in pillows. Deceit frowned, hearing loud sniffling.

"Hey darling," Deceit said softly as he sat down on the bed, a bit confused. "Is everything okay?" He assumed Remus might've been crying- Remus usually only bundled himself up like this when he was upset. But that was a rare occurrence after he started dating Logan and Deceit.

Remus groaned in response, turning to look at Deceit. His nose was all red and he looked far paler than usual. Deceit's eyes widened. "'m not feelin' great," Remus slurred, his voice scratchy and he winced. Deceit cooed softly, reaching to brush Remus's bangs from his face. He could feel Remus's skin burning, and his frown deepened.

"You shouldn't be wrapped like this, Octi, not when you seem to have a fever."

"But cold...."

"You have chills too?"

Remus nodded. Deceit sighed. "Okay. I'll go let Logan know, and get you some medicine." Remus made a noise that sounded happy as Deceit stood.

He left Remus's door open as he first went downstairs to retrieve Logan.

"Remus is sick?" Roman piped up worriedly after Deceit had explained the situation to Logan, ad the pair looked to the other half of creativity.

"Seems like a cold, or maybe a minor flu to me. But yeah," Deceit said. "Why..... why do you look so worried?"

Roman closed his notebook. "Because the last time either of us were sick we set like, half of the Imagination on fire."

"Good reason to worry- I'll go get that medicine if you want to finish making some toast for him and you just check on him?" Deceit said, and the other two were in action as quickly as Deceit spoke.

The day went by agonizingly slow as Deceit, Logan, and Roman fussed over Remus. Logan managed to get Remus to discard most of his blankets and got him to eat some ice pops as that was all Remus claimed he could stomach and something was better than nothing. And despite Logan's insistence that he shouldn't, Deceit gladly cuddled up to his sick boyfriend, offering quiet comfort in the form of soft kisses to the back of his neck. Loga really couldn't argue for long though, seeing how Remus looked more content. And Roman happily retrieved some books from his room that Remus might've liked for Logan to read to Remus, and he also fetched his brother some tea to soothe his sore throat.

It wasn't until Remus started to sneeze did they become even more worried.

They hadn't noticed it at first, but when he sneezed, little critters started to appear around the mind palace in various numbers. When they did finally realize, it was only after the sound of glass shattering and a yelp rang up to them from the living room. As Deceit was asleep behind Remus, holding him close, and Logan was currently getting another dose of medicine ready, Roman was the one to venture downstairs to see what the commotion was.

He was expecting Patton to have discovered a spider, or Virgil had finally woken up and maybe he had startled Patton.

What he didn't expect though, was to see the glass of what was once a mug mixed with some spilled tea spreading along the floor just outside the kitchen, and three little octopi in Patton's hands. Each one was a different, very vibrant color with dark markings all along their tiny bodies, and for some reason, they were in various outfits. Patton looked towards Roman, then he heard Virgil swear and they looked to the couch where Virgil was sat sitting up, with one tiny octopus of his own latched onto his arm.

"I'm going to assume this is Remus's doing?" Patton asked. "Though it seems a bit odd for something so adorable to be something he made."

Now it made sense to Roman, and he just sighed, dragging a hand through his hair.

"It is Remus, he's sick..."

"So he's deciding to spawn these gremlins all over the mind palace?" Virgil questioned, pointing to some of the shelves and even their TV, where more octopi peeked out at them.

"Not deciding, he has no control over this." Roman started to collect the little octopi, examining them briefly. "I think he'd be happy with them though." Once they were all bundled carefully in his arms, Roman looked back at the moral and anxious sides. "If more start appearing, I say just bring them to either mine or Remus's room. I'm sure he'll find a place for them in the Imagination when he's feeling better."

"Alright, let Remus know I hope he feels better soon!"

"I still don't get the octopi, but same I guess..."

Roman nodded at them before making his way upstairs.

And if the octopi made Remus's face light up, despite sneezing and another five appearing on Logan, the others didn't mention it, just committed the picture to memory before going back to fussing over Remus's health.

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[valhallanrose]

Funeral Bell

Astoria’s foray into the labyrinth spawns more questions than they can find answers for on their own - but the journey to find those answers will be more disastrous than they thought. 

Astoria is nonbinary, and uses she/they pronouns interchangeably. 

Title: Funeral Bell by PHILDEL

2.2k words. No CWs apply. 

The quiet clicking of Astoria’s boots on the marble beneath their feet was deafening, punctuating the emptiness of the hall as their pacing quickened with every passing moment. 

When they were well enough to travel, Myrna had done the best thing she could think of - bring Astoria down the mountains to the first Prakran port in the valley she could find and board the first ship that would let them book passage to the Republic of Galbrada. 

The Whitethorn Citadel had long since been a friend of Myrna Canonach. They’d employed her for one task or another over the years, transporting artifacts and manuscripts that they feared might become damaged without the care of someone who would monitor their transport and the conditions they were kept in when traveling over sea and land. Though they paid her well for her work, they had always promised Myrna that should she need anything, their resources were at her disposal - all she needed to do was ask. 

And Myrna, with Astoria in her shadow, had deemed it time to call in those favors. If anyone could explain what had happened to Astoria, it was going to be the scholars at the Citadel. 

When they were granted audience, the council had made it clear that they only wanted to speak to Myrna, which left Astoria where they were now: standing out in the hall, pacing across the marble floors and wringing gloved hands nervously while the clock ticked by.

To them, it felt like Myrna had stepped inside the council room hours ago. 

Voices rose beyond the heavy wooden door, but the words were unintelligible - though Astoria could make out enough to tell that someone was angry, and odds were, it was about them. 

The clicking of their boots came to a halt as Astoria stopped outside the door, framed the archway as they looked down to their carefully gloved hands and tried to squash down the burning that welled up in the corners of their eyes. 

This had become the new normal.

Ever since they’d come out of the labyrinth, the welcoming smiles they’d always known had changed, hiding wariness and curiosity that made them feel more like an artifact on display than a person. They wanted to scream, to cry, every time a hand was laid on their shoulder and they were asked if they were alright, because the answer was a resounding no - I’m not sure if I’ll ever be alright - but they knew the answer that was wanted was one of strength, one of ‘everything’s fine, we’ll figure this out, I’ll stop at nothing to get answers’. 

They couldn’t stand being touched anymore, either. Every time they came in contact with someone’s bare skin it was like the world fell away and all they could hear was the roar of blood in their ears, the steady pounding of a heartbeat not their own echoing in their chest until they finally managed to break away from whatever spell they’d fallen under. The gloves helped with that - it reduced the chance of contact Astoria wasn’t prepared for - as did their clothing, which they chose carefully now to cover as much of their skin as possible. Even Myrna’s gentle hand on their shoulder made them jump, made them fear the trance until they realized that she too had taken to wearing gloves when trying to comfort their grandchild. 

It made them feel human, in an odd way. Respected. Cared for. Like someone was still listening when it felt like their voice was being drowned out. 

The hinges squealed as the door opened, drawing Astoria’s eyes up from their gloved palms to meet Myrna’s tired gaze - they noticed the irritated flush to her face and the way her hair looked ruffled from the way she ran her things through it when she was frustrated - and hesitantly took a few steps forward when Myrna beckoned for them to come inside the room and join them. 

The council, or the governing body of the Citadel, was made up of five members. Three of which currently sat at the raised marble slab, notes laid out on the surface - two men, one on each side, and a woman seated in the middle who had quite a motherly smile on her face despite the situation. 

“Hello, Astoria.” She greeted, setting her quill down to give them a slight wave. “You may call me Dorothea. How are you feeling?”

Like hell. 

“I’m okay.” Astoria folded their arms, hands loosely gripping their sleeves as they stepped a bit closer. “How are you?”

“Worried, I’ll admit.” Dorothea sighed, folding her hands in front of herself on the table. “Astoria...your grandmother has been kind in retelling what has happened, but we worry that we aren’t getting the full story. We need to hear it from you, to make sure that we are getting the full truth.”

Myrna scoffed behind Astoria, and Dorothea shot her a look, then turned her gaze back to Astoria with an expectant expression on her face. 

Please tell me this is the last time.

“I can do that.”

“Good.” Dorothea picked up her quill again and gave Astoria a nod. “When you’re ready.”

And so, Astoria began to speak, arms wrapped around themself for some sense of security and feeling like they were mere inches tall under the weight of speculative eyes. The sounds of quills scratching on paper, once comforting, was deafening - distracting enough for Astoria to lose their place a few times and need prompting to continue when they fell silent for too long. 

It wasn’t the labyrinth they were afraid of, not anymore. But every time they got to the part about the sepulcher...they couldn’t keep the tremors out of their voice, no matter how many times they told the story, and they carried through until the very end. Detailing the days after, fearing madness as they lie awake in their tent and try in vain to block out the heartbeats of dozens of colleagues and friends, staying awake for days until their body shut down and forced them to sleep - it made them realize how tired they were, physically and mentally, of living life like this. 

There was a long, long silence as Dorothea set her quill down, raising clasped hands to rest against her chin and staring down at Astoria with an unidentifiable look in her eye before she broke the silence by addressing them. 

“Thank you, Astoria, for your candor.” 

Astoria only nodded, watching as Dorothea’s gaze shifted to look behind her and address Myrna directly over their head. 

“Myrna, I believe the best course of action...would be for you to enroll Astoria here, allow them to remain here for the foreseeable future while we examine their affliction -”

No. 

“- it would be best if you do not stay, Myrna. We understand your concern for Astoria, but your presence might make them hesitate to share information with us -”

Not like this. 

“- of course they’ll be well taken care of, and you’re welcome to visit any time -”

“Please.” Astoria whimpered, Myrna’s head turning toward them as the words caught and died in their throat. “I don’t...I don’t want…”

Their voices overtook Astoria’s, no matter how many times they opened their mouth and tried to force the words out, but...none of them would even look in their direction. It made them feel so small, so insignificant, as if they weren’t even there no matter how much Myrna argued for them to take some time to consider, that there was no rush to make a decision right that second if they didn’t know what they were dealing with. 

It was too much. Too much on Astoria’s fragile heart, bearing the weight of fear and change and utter exhaustion, to not break when a hand pressed down on the scales and tipped them over the edge. 

The shout that ripped from their throat would leave them hoarse for days, tears streaking down their cheeks unbidden as they finally, finally, cracked under it all. 

“Why won’t you listen to me?”

It was like time...stopped. 

The room was silenced in an instant. Not a bird sang through the open windows, not a page ruffled in a gnarled hand, not a pen scratched across the wooden surface of a desk - complete and utter silence, as if they’d all frozen in place no matter what they’d been doing before their outburst.

“I am not some gods-damned object to be studied, dissected, and put back together solely for your own gains!” They ripped off a glove, wiping fiercely at their cheeks in an effort to try and hold some semblance of composure. “Not a single one of you cares about how I feel, cares about what I want when I didn’t ask for any of this. I want to stop feeling like I need to crawl out of my own skin when someone touches me, I want to stop feeling like a stranger in my own body, I want to stop feeling like I’m on the brink of losing my mind at any moment.”

Distraught, Astoria whipped the glove down to the floor, hair billowing around their shoulders and sticking slightly to the wet tear-trails on their cheeks as they looked back up to the three council members seated before them.

“You can’t just...you can’t just take that choice away from me.” Their voice broke, new tears spilling over and blurring their vision behind their glasses. “I want answers. I want them, so, so badly. But I want my life back. I want to know how to control this, not just be a source of information to be gawked at until you say I’ve given you all I can. I’m...I’m tired of feeling like this. I know it won’t go back to normal, I’m not so stupid as to think there’s a way my life will ever be the same. But I want to know that I can get close to it, and I want to know I can live my life in the world out there without being afraid of myself at every unknown turn.”

When they rubbed their eyes with the heels of their hands and managed to look at this fragment of the council - really look at them - confusion overshadowed their distress as they took a single step toward the trio seated before them. 

They hadn’t moved, once. They thought they were imagining it, seeing the same expression and same positions of their body right down to the place their quills sat on parchment, but...they realized with some horror that they weren’t imagining it at all. 

They realized when they looked to Myrna that they could see the slightest tremor in the hand that gripped the silver-wrought handle of her cane, see the way her irises darted back and forth and her hand was still outstretched, reaching for Astoria with that ever-comforting look on her face. Her arm hung in midair, fingers outstretched as she took a step toward her grandchild, but...locked in place, as if someone had captured her likeness in colored stone. 

And there was...a beating, at their fingertips, something they could feel through their gloves as if it was buried beneath their skin from the moment they’d come into this world. 

Astoria flexed their fingers, wetting dry lips with confusion muddling their mind - 

Canonach. 

Astoria’s head snapped up, searching the room for the source of the voice that had echoed in their ears, then looked toward Dorothea - her brow tipped slightly down, as if it was the only gesture of concentration she could muster as they realized it was her voice they were hearing. 

Breathe. I need you to breathe, and I need you to let go.

Let go? What could they possibly...

...no. They realized it, looking inward, that the pit they felt in their stomach was not a pit at all. There, as if it were coiled in their gut, they could feel the tension, the stiffness, like a spring stretched too tight and ready to snap should you give it a single turn more. 

Astoria took a shaky breath in, holding it for a moment before they let it out, and the spring unwound with a pace that made Astoria stumble back and fall square on their ass on the cold marble floor. 

Myrna, Dorothea, and their silent compatriots all collapsed like puppets with cut strings - gasping for air as Astoria sat numb on the stone. They didn’t register Myrna dragging herself upright with her cane, limping heavily as she rushed to Astoria and threw arms tight around their shoulder. 

They’d...they’d done that. Stopped them all in their tracks without even a second thought, the realization ice in their veins as Myrna pulled them in and whispered words Astoria couldn’t quite comprehend over the ringing in their ears. 

Astoria glanced up, finding Dorothea rising from her seat, seeing her expression twist into something between awe and fear for a single moment before they buried their face in the side of Myrna’s neck to try and avoid looking anyone in the eye. 

Why did it feel like every time they came a step closer to finding answers, they felt like they lost a piece of themself in the process?

#astoria fenharrow #i'm trying to finish the rougher parts of their arc but I PROMISE IT GETS BETTER #my writing

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Comic buff with a thought, I notice the P5MM art and composition is more striking and closer to p5's art and style than the other manga, which is fine, but kinda... flat. (I find myself thinking there's something missing when I read it, then I look back at P5MM and I notice how there's more clever paneling, imagery, and stylistic choices akin to the games in it (like that one goro panel ya had a rant about) and I realize what's missing) That could be why P5MM is brought up more, just a guess. I dunno how you feel about all that though, I'm curious.

Under the cut cause it gets long cause of pictures:

I am very big on art style and visual presentation. I do actually judge a book by it's cover (manga, game, movie, show, yadda). If I find something pleasing to my eye I'll read it.....even if the contents are trash. Domestic Girlfriend is one, horrible manga (didn't finish, was holding out for Momo, aka best girl, and getting closure for her....then I bounced). Didn't watch the anime (didn't need to I was way ahead in the manga I think), but I know that opening is wasted on it. ldskfjaf Don't invest your time into it, it's not worth it, you would probably learn better morals from P5.......probably. But yeah I found the art style pleasing enough to try it out (I's not amazing by any means, but I like looking at it....or did.....that writing man....dat was bad ;w;).... *waves hands vaguely in air* yeah.

Fun fact, it's why I got into Persona. I happened across an ad for P4 on the PS2 in the Gameinformer magazine, it showed a screenshot from an animated cutscene plus one of the fully body art for the chars and I was like "Yes this is my jam!" (which only doubled down when I read what it was about, and it was a murder mystery and the article also talked up "the mystery of the glasses" which fakldjsalkfs yeah). So yeah it really clicked for me.

Tbh it's why I'm probably going to get back into freaking Bleach, and it's why I got into it and Naruto over One Piece (I don't think I'll ever read ON I'm sorry). Tite Kubo has sexy art what can I say? Can't trust a thing that man writes now but eh. It's also the reason I read a lot of Shojo (and now Yuri) manga, cause their art style is usually what I find very appealing (even if I've read the same gd shojo love story just by a different name for the 1000th time, give me the flowers and sparkly eyes! they are my life blood!)

And I've mentioned I really like Saito's art style. I've (attempted) to color some of his pieces on top of animate some manga frames (most of which I haven't actually published......I...I should....get around to finishing those up....haha...aha....haaaa). I really like his art, it's pleasant. But even with good art, I can still see past it and see what BS it's peddling and it can hamper my enjoyment of it. If I don't look at the context of the scene or the words on the page, I can be down with it. But when I'm reading.......I get annoyed. I balk at anything with Goro. I guffaw whenever Makoto's on screen (cause Saito nails her from P5, she acts useful but really she's useless but the narrative views her as useful it ironically makes her useless......it's the weirdest thing I've ever witnessed >.>). Like Saito really.....gets P5 it seems, down to it's flaws even (tho he can actually make the good parts of P5 shine, or at least parts that P5 failed to execute....execute in a way). But he also makes the flaws.....shine that much harder for me.

Now the Reg manga? it's nothing special art style wise, in fact it starts off VERY wonky, and while still wonky, has gotten a lot....better/cuter (esp Ryu). Not like shojo cute just.......I wanna squish their wittle faces cute (at times when it's not serious).

Like when it comes to Reg Manga these are the two pieces that have appeared in it that I feel kinda hit the P5 mark in terms of style:

(look at Mona, coming into this world like the pustule that he is 8U)

Which isn't much, but it's something. At least Reg's AOA is better looking than the anime. 8U

But I dunno, as the chapters go on, the Mangaka allows for more cuter expressions, and I just like their neat:

(btw I colored that page)

I dunno, it's not as overtly cutsey as Saito:

But they are still charming in a more simple way (without out having them go full chibi), it subtle but it gives it flavor. "Silly why are most, if not all those pics of Ryu and Anne?" I dunno guys maybe you should ask them how their backs are doing, cause they're the ones who are carrying the Reg manga when it comes to this! 8U

Tho I do think the first ch or two of Reg does a better job capturing P5's feel than the rest of the chapters, I think the mangaka is just.....bogged down by exposition and the game's BS that a lot of text on their pages so it almost reads like a novel:

ALots of text, not the most dynamic of framing with the panels. It's kinda eh. I haven't really read the manga past the 2nd dungeon tbh (I mean......as the residential #1 Makoto hater, I think that's fair.....that I'd start to zone out during my least fav dungeon....and then continue zoning out during my 2nd least fav dungeon askfdjaflk)

But during the first two dungeon arcs, I liked how.....bad the PT were at thieving, I liked how green they were. It was obviously a learning process. I also like some of the fight choreo (Saito did the best hand to hand one in the series in P4U's Yu vs Sho....which I actually animated....spoiler.....no I have no released that...my dumbass wants to tempt fate and see if I can redo it in color even tho it took me 4 days non stop to get that animated in just black and white.....but I am a fool so alas 8U). I mean it's not mind blowing, but it was simple and decently thought out, which is more than I feel like we usually get (esp with the anime shows....or at least P4/5's).

But I think what draws me in is....it's lack of P5 style. P5 style has them being still oh so cool despite being new at everything. It's tired me out. P5's how identity is style. It's....style over substance (gonna rile some feathers with that....Cvit(?) vid title). But P5 is overtly stylish, to the point it......weighs on me. Drags me down. Tires me out. I don't think they're cool, I'm bored with it. Ironically, Reg manga lacks that, which......def would make someone (and me usually) give it much of a passing glance. It's very basic I guess. But.....consider me, being in P5 hell, surrounded by all it's nausea inducing stylishness, sees a small break in the hellish hurricane to see.......normalcy. It kinda makes me connect better with the kids (kinda, it's still P5).

They feel like normal kids, trying to do their thing (sometimes trying to look/act cool and failing), and.....it's just the absolute antitheses to P5's brand......and I think that's why I like it. KLFJDSAFLKJA;

Anyway, who knows, maybe when I catch up on Reg in english and re-read MM with the official translation I might change my mind about a few things, or at least how I rank them. But for post length sake, and my sanity sake, I think I should keep the anime and mangas out of the "Which entry do you hate least" post......because I should just make another post where I go into both mangas as well as compare and contrast the anime! :D I'm just delaying some insanity for later haha....

Wait.........I just remember Day Breakers exists......and I liked it....still do....don't have much issue with it. Well shit, that is probably the one entry I hate the least. fklsdjfalkjdfkla;jsL;FJljsfdlskafaj *sobs* nO NO, I committed, and that's just a sad loophole. fdklsajflakfj *sobs* I still need to the game thing, cause let's be honest, the games are where it counts.

So right now my ranking for manga/anime is:

Daybreakers>Reg manga> MM>>>>>>>>>>TV Show Anime and it's OVAs (may the burn in the hell fire from which they spawned)

Oh, one last thing, forgot to put it in but I dunno where to put it now. I like how the manga tones down the pervyness some:

I mean Ryu is a fellow monkey. u_u .......but it's for the best I don't have to see his ape expression. ;w; (iirc the pyramid scene was a lot shorter/faster, but that's by the grace of reading and books rather than animation I suppose).

#silly asks #silly answers #i can't believe day breakers is what I hate least dfkjsalfjaf

[ragingbookdragon]

Happy Birthday Batmom

OMG rereading my old works makes me wanna cringe. But this piece is kinda special because it’s one of the first Batmom fics I ever wrote. So, enjoy it! -Thorne <3

Her eyes opened, and she glanced blearily towards the window, still dark out, then at the clock on her nightstand. Four-thirty, it read, and she grunted, pulling the covers back up to her face and rolling over. She pressed up against his side as he was on his stomach, and subconsciously, his arm rose from where it was tucked under his pillow, and she crawled underneath it; her head resting up on his pillow. He shifted, his arm coming down to wrap around her middle, his head rising, burying his face in her neck. A leg intertwined between hers, and the right side of his body rested on her right, and the comfortable, familiar weight lulled her back to sleep.

           When she awoke again, the clock read nine-thirty-five, and she breathed deeply, moving her head to see his face; but he wasn’t beside her. She looked up on his pillow and saw a little note.

           Went to go make breakfast. Be back in a few minutes. I love you (Y/N).

           (Y/N) smiled as she plucked the note from the pillow, bringing to her nose, smelling it; it smelled like his cologne had been sprayed on it, something he did when he left notes for her to find. She inhaled again and rolled over, tucking the note in the bottom drawer of her nightstand before rolling out of the bed and walking over to his dresser and pulling out a t-shirt, slipping it on, then pulling out a pair of his joggers. (Y/N) pulled them on and moved to the bathroom, washing her face and pulling up her hair, so it was out of her face, then moved back to the bed. She laid down on her side and pulled the covers up to her chest, grabbing her phone and scrolling through her feed; multiple texts from her friends, and tweets from her followers reminded her of what today was. And here I am…another year older… (Y/N) grunted and sighed, and the door opened; her eyes flitted up and she watched her husband and children tiptoe, until they saw her, awake, then they walked normally. Bruce was in front, carrying a tray of mixed-breakfast foods, Dick and Jason held jugs-of what she could only assume was milk and orange juice-, Tim held a tray of coffee and creamers, and Damian held a bouquet. She smiled at them as she set her phone down. “My my…I should request this every day!” They laughed and Jason looked at her.

           “Sorry Ma…only on birthdays and Mother’s Day.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and let out a ‘pfft’, causing them to laugh again. Bruce set down the tray beside her and leaned down, pressing his lips to hers, then pulling back and smiling at her.

           “Happy Birthday (Y/N).” She flashed him a heart-fluttering smile.

           “Thank you, Bruce.” He smiled and the other boys cleared their throats, causing her to glance at them; Dick and Jason set down the jugs and she eyed them. “What’s in those?” Dick spoke first.

           “Uh…that one is…” He turned to Jason. “What were they again?” Jason sighed and pointed to the first jug, then the second.

           “That’s the Mimosa jug, and that’s the ‘Just Peachy’ Peach Bellini.” (Y/N)’s eyebrows rose, and she looked at them.

           “Are you trying to get me hammered this morning?” Jason snorted and shook his head.

           “Nah…alcohol content is pretty low. You’ll just get a nice buzz.” She nodded, impressed.

           “I do like Mimosas and peaches.” Dick and Jason grinned, and Tim stepped up placing the tray on Bruce’s nightstand.

           “I got your jet fuel coffee mom.” She glanced at him and motioned for her cup.

           “Oh, pour me a cup baby. I could use some coffee right now.” He smiled and did so, passing her, her coffee cup; Jason pointed to it.

           “I’ve never actually read the words on it. What does it say?” (Y/N) snorted and held it up, reading it aloud.

           “And then I realized…this is my circus, and these are my monkeys.” Their mouths dropped open, expect for Dick, who laughed. Damian stepped up and handed her the bouquet he’d been holding.

           “These are for you Umi.” She sat her coffee cup down and took them, lightly touching a petal, and looked at him.

           “Pink carnations?” He nodded.

           “A symbol of a mother’s undying love.” Her eyes went wide, and she looked at the boys who just smiled widely at her; she felt tears start to form, and huffed a laugh, bringing her hand up to wipe them.

           “Oh god…don’t make me cry this early boys…I won’t be able to stop if I do.” They simply smiled and she looked at Damian. “Thank you, baby.” He smiled and took them from her, setting them in a vase on her vanity. She looked at the tray full of food. “This is more than enough for me and Bruce to eat.” (Y/N) glanced at the boys and tipped her head. “How about you boys join me for breakfast?” They nodded. “Just don’t flop on-” She spoke too late, and the next thing she knew, all four of her boys were jumping onto the bed; it ended badly, with limbs tangled in the dogpile in the middle of her bed.

           “OW JASON! THAT’S MY LEG!”

           “WELL YOU PUT YOUR ELBOW IN MY SIDE!”

           “DRAKE YOU LANDED ON MY BACK! GET OFF THIS INSTANT BEFORE I DISLOCATE YOUR THUMB FROM IT’S SOCKET!”

           “YOU TOUCH MY HAND AND I’LL KICK YOUR ASS DEMON-SPAWN!”

           The arguing between them continued until (Y/N) cleared her throat, and they went silent, staring at her apprehensively. She glowered at them.

           “If I have to split up fights today, I will jerk knots in all your tails, you hear?” Most of them nodded, save Damian, who quipped.

           “What does that mean?” Jason nudged him.

           “Means she’ll wear our asses out?” That only served to confuse him more.

           “…What?” Dick sighed.

           “She’ll bust our butts.” He put emphasis on ‘butts’, glaring at Jason who just rolled his eyes. Damian nodded and she looked at Bruce.

           “You gonna join in the merry-menagerie?” He snorted and nodded, picking up the tray and moving over to his side, sitting up against the headboard with her. The boys reached over to grab something when she smacked their hands lightly. “Don’t pick it with your fingers.” (Y/N) looked up at the door and saw Alfred walking in with extra plates and silverware; she smiled. “I was just about to ask one of them to go find you Alfred.” He smiled and passed the boys a plate, speaking eloquently.

           “Yes well, when the young masters did not return, I assumed they had joined you and the sir for breakfast.” He paused and moved beside her, leaning over and giving her a hug. “Happy Birthday Mrs. (Y/N).” (Y/N) smiled brightly and nodded.

           “Thank you, Alfred.” He nodded, and they watched him leave the room, then they turned back to the tray, and she sighed. “Oh…go nuts.” They grinned and dug into the tray, picking up croissants and jellies, waffles and bacon, anything they could. (Y/N) just smiled, and a cold glass appeared in her vision. She turned to see Bruce pouring one of the jugs; she leaned over, her cheek pressing into his bicep. He paused and grinned down at her; she matched his. “Which one is that?” He poured the cup full and held it up to her lips, and she took a sip, frozen peach slushy filling her mouth. (Y/N)’s eyes went wide, and she nodded, taking the glass from him. “That’s good.”

           “Thanks. I made it.” She glanced at Jason who currently had half a croissant shoved in his mouth. (Y/N) sighed.

           “Jason Peter…what have a told you about shoving things in your mouth like that?” He snorted and chewed, his cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk.

           “Not…to” She nodded.

           “It’s almost as if it goes in one ear, and out the other.” He flushed and Dick snorted, and she turned to him. “Richard John. Don’t you dare laugh.” His lips went into a thin line and he nodded, and Jason looked at him and mouthed ‘ha-ha’. “Jason Peter.” He lowered his head and mumbled,

           “…Sorry Ma.” She rolled her eyes and sipped her drink, picking up a piece of bacon and biting it. Damian lathered his waffle with butter, then syrup, and looked at her.

           “Umi…what are you going to do today?” (Y/N) glanced at him and shrugged her shoulders.

           “Dunno…haven’t thought that far yet.” Tim snorted.

           “It’s your birthday mom. You haven’t thought about what you want to do?” (Y/N) looked at him.

           “The older I get, the more I want to stay home.” Bruce looked at her and sipped his coffee.

           “Why’s that?” She eyed him and bit into a biscuit.

           “Cause if I go out…I have to wear makeup and a bra…and I don’t feel like doing that.” The boys chuckled, and Tim spoke again.

           “So…you don’t want to go out today?” (Y/N) nodded her head.

           “Yep.”

           “Then what do you want to do for your birthday mom?” She looked at Dick and licked her thumb, reaching out and swiping some marmalade from the corner of his mouth, and wiped it on a napkin.

           “I want you boys to clean my house and spend time with me.” Immediately, the boys started groaning about, ‘not wanting to clean a giant freakin’ manor’, and she stuck her tongue to her teeth and let out an ear-splitting whistle. They winced and she spoke firmly. “I want you boys to help Alfred clean the house and spend time with me. Understood?” They reluctantly nodded, and she continued. “Besides, the faster you get the cleaning done, the more time we’ll have today.” They looked at each other before hopping off the bed and kicking it towards the door; she called out after them. “Don’t half-ass it either!” They raised their hands in acknowledgement and the door slammed behind them. (Y/N) sighed and reclined against the headboard, closing her eyes. She felt the bed shift beside her, and she watched Bruce get up and walk towards the door. “I didn’t mean you too Bruce.” She watched him stop at the door and his hand rested along the lock and twisted it; he turned to her and smirked.

           “Oh, I know you didn’t Mrs. Wayne.” (Y/N) matched his smirk and set the tray on the nightstand, moving to the center of the headboard. She watched him saunter towards her, a hand reaching up behind his back, and he pulled off his shirt. She hummed.

           “You should’ve done a cross-body pull-off, so I could’ve seen your abs and chest flex.” He huffed a laugh and crawled onto the bed, stopping just before her feet; she grinned. “What’re you waiting for?” His hands gripped her ankles and tugged, pulling her body off the headboard and down the bed. (Y/N) burst into surprised peals of laughter, and laid back, feeling him climb and rest on top of her. She stared up at him. “It’s my birthday…why are you on top?” He stopped, chuckling, and she continued. “You’re always topping.” She placed her hands on his shoulders, and wrapped her legs around his hips, interlocking her ankles, and shoved, signaling him to shift with her. He obliged, and rolled, his hands coming to rest on her hips. He grinned and raised an eyebrow.

           “How’s the weather up there?” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and gripped her shirt, tugging it off.

           “Hardy-har-har…very funny Mr. Wayne.” He squeezed her hips.

           “I try.” She grinned down at him.

           “I’ve noticed.” He smirked and raised up, a hand going behind her and undoing her bra; she slipped it off and dropped it to the floor, pulling back to look at him. He followed, and she placed a hand on his chest and shoved him down, smirking wickedly at him. “Mr. Wayne, you seem to be under the impression that you’re in charge now.” He raised an eyebrow and she continued. “It’s my turn dear.”

A Couple Hours Later:

           (Y/N) stepped down the stairs behind Bruce, one hand holding a cup, the other toweling her damp hair. They stepped into the kitchen and placed the dishes in the sink, then moved to the living room, collapsing onto the couch. She curled up on his chest, her head tucking under his chin. His hand rose and rubbed circles in her back, and he flipped on the TV, switching it over to the news. Vicki Vale greeted them.

           “And today is actually a very special day for Gotham City, as it’s Mrs. (Y/N) Wayne’s birthday! Today, she’s thirty-two years old. We asked you all to send in your favorite pictures and videos of her and we compiled a compilation! Enjoy!”

(Y/N) groaned and took the remote from Bruce, switching the channel; he snorted. “Don’t want to see the public’s favorite?” (Y/N) shifted and glared at him.

           “No. I don’t.” He chuckled again and kissed her forehead. He opened his mouth to speak when the boys came barreling into the living room.

           “Here you guys are! We didn’t know where you’d went!” She turned and glanced at Dick.

           “I mean, we’d have been somewhere in the manor?” He snorted, and they moved to the couch, flopping down where there was room. (Y/N) flipped over and rested her back against Bruce’s chest, and Damian crawled into her lap. Dick took Bruce’s left, Jason took his right, and Tim settled at (Y/N)’s feet.

           “What are we watching?” (Y/N) flipped through the channels, and the boys called out random titles.

           “The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen!”

           “Don’t listen to Dick. Let’s watch The Count of Monte Cristo!”

           “No one wants to watch that Jason! Let’s watch Lord of The Rings!”

           “And no one wants to watch that either Drake. Umi, let’s watch Dorian Gray.” They kept arguing, and (Y/N) shouted over them.

           “We’ll watch them all! Just hush!” They went silent and she nodded to Dick. “Go get the movies and we’ll start with yours.” Dick pumped his fists and went to the movie cabinet, and Alfred walked in.

           “Mrs. (Y/N), what would you like for dinner?” She turned her head to him.

           “Pizza.” Alfred sighed.

           “I shall allow it only because it’s your birthday.” (Y/N) grinned and the TV screen went dark, indicating the movie was starting.

           “Dickie, turn out the lights.” He nodded and flipped the switches before taking his seat.

           After a few hours of movies, pizza, and desert ‘We’re putting thirty-two candles in the birthday cake Dickhead stop complaining about it.’, they sat on the couch full and content, and Bruce turned to her. “Did you have a good birthday Mrs. Wayne?” She nodded and pulled the ice-cream spoon from her mouth.

           “The best.” Her boys started shaking their heads, and she looked at them. “What?”

           “We haven’t given you your gift yet.” She sighed and spoke softly.

           “Boys, I don-” Dick waved her off and motioned to Tim.

           “Do you have the disc?” He nodded and got up, popping it into the DVD player, and (Y/N) watched curiously as an image cleared, revealing her boys. Dick spoke on the screen.

           “Hey mom! Happy Birthday! Right now, you’re probably sitting on the couch with us, so we decided to make you something special.” Jason spoke after him.

           “We know you prefer gifts from the heart, rather than store bought, so we did just that.” He looked at Tim.

           “We each took the time and created a ten-minute portion in this video. You’ll see each of us on our own, then us all together at the end.” Damian nodded.

           “Each of us compiled something special for you.” They smiled and Dick spoke.

           “We hope you enjoy it mom.”

           The screen faded, and Dick appeared on his own, and he held up a note card.

           “I needed the notecard to remember the quote I wanted to tell about you mom.” He smiled and looked down. “But first I think I should tell you about my best memory of you.” He paused and sucked in a ragged breath and he looked at the camera. “I didn’t know what was going to happen to me after my birth parents died. I was…alone…and scared.” He stopped and breathed deeply. “The next thing I knew, I was in a giant manor, even more alone than I’d been left. But I wasn’t really alone.” He glanced at the camera. “You were there mom. You helped me heal…helped me realize that the world wasn’t all bad. You’ve always been there. Soon, I realized that…even though what happened to my birth parents was a tragedy…they left behind a blessing…” Dick brought a hand to his eyes and held his palms there for a few seconds before wiping them. “My mom will always be my mom in my heart. But you? You are my mom. And I love you for it.” He wiped his eyes again and looked down at the card. “I found a quote I wanted to read you.” He cleared his throat. “And she loved a little boy very, very much—even more than she loved herself.” Dick looked up at the camera and smiled brightly. “Thank you for loving me mom…And Happy Birthday.” The screen went black, and then bright again, and Jason was there; he waved.

           “Hey Ma.” He paused and rubbed the back of his neck. “So, I’m not overly fond of performing in front of other people…as you know…but I figured that if we were making shi-stuff from the heart…I guess I can do this for you.” Jason paused and rose, picking up an acoustic guitar, and strumming a few strings. He looked at the camera, a faint red on his cheeks, and he glared slightly. “You’d better be lucky I love you Ma.” He began to strum the strings, and (Y/N) recognized it as the acoustic cover of ‘Simple Man’ by Shinedown. His voice came out, low and soft. “Mama told me when I was young. Come sit beside me, my only son. And listen closely to what I say. And if you do this it'll help you some sunny day…" He kept the song short, transitioning to the last set of verses. “Boy, don't you worry, you'll find yourself…Follow your heart and nothing else. And you can do this, oh baby, if you try. All that I want for you, my son, is to be satisfied…And be a simple kind of man. Oh, be something you love and understand. Baby be a simple kind of man. Oh, won't you do this for me, son, if you can…” The strumming went slower and softer, and he sang the last few verses. “Baby be a simple, really simple man. Oh, be something you love and understand. Baby, be a simple, kind of simple man.” He strummed the guitar one last time and looked at the camera. “The first time I heard that song, you were humming it to me as you took care of me one night that I had gotten sick.” Jason paused and looked down. “I’ve always tried to follow it Ma…‘cause I knew you wanted me to…And I know…I’ve made mistakes.” He stopped and wiped an eye, continuing. “But you’ve always granted me forgiveness…always said it was okay. And that’s why this quote is you.” He paused and glanced at the camera. “The heart of a mother is a deep abyss at the bottom of which you will always find forgiveness.” He grinned at the camera. “Thanks Ma…I love you…And Happy Birthday.” The screen went black once more, and Tim appeared next.

           “I look a mess mom…I haven’t had my third coffee yet…so…sorry.” He laughed and continued. “I’m not Jason, so I don’t have a song for you. But I can be like Dick and give my best memory of you.” He cleared his throat. “The first time you ever called me your son was when we were at a charity gala, a few months after my dad died. And I remember thinking that I didn’t belong and that I wasn’t supposed to be there. But you stuck with me the entire night, making me feel like I did belong, even if I didn’t really think it. And I remember someone walking up and starting to interview you, and I started to walk away so I could give you privacy, and the interviewer asked something along the lines of, ‘So what’s it like to have a stranger in your home?’. And it hurt to hear that…but…” He paused and snorted. “You tore into that guy like it was no one’s business. And I mean, you ate him alive.” Tim looked at the camera. “And you marched over to me and grabbed my hand, pulling me back over and you just pointed at me and went, ‘This boy may not have come from my womb, but I love him as if he did. And if anyone calls my son a stranger again. I’ll lay their ass flat.’. Then you looked at him and went, ‘You put that in the paper you dime-a-dozen basic bitch.’.” Tim had to stop he was laughing so hard, and when he calmed down, he spoke. “It was without a doubt, the funniest thing I’d ever seen, and you stalked off with me in tow, then turned around and went, ‘Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne? You are my son. And anyone who says otherwise is a fucknut and shouldn’t be listened to. You hear me?’. And I just nodded” He paused and looked at the camera. “But that’s the day that made it all real. That it wasn’t a joke…that I wasn’t alone anymore. I had you, and Bruce, and Dick, and Alfred. But I had you. And my mother is the best woman alive.” He held up a card and read his quote. “A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials heavy and sudden fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts.” He smiled. “I love you mom…Happy Birthday.” The screen faded, and Damian appeared, sitting next to an easel.

           “Umi.” He paused and picked up a set of charcoal sticks. “I’m going to draw you a picture.” That was all he said, and he got to work, occasionally glancing at the camera; his eyes moved to the easel. “Grayson said I should talk about my best memory of you. If I had to choose…it would be when you stood up to Talia and fought against her…ultimately winning.” He blew on the canvas and continued. “She stood before you and demanded me. But you refused and picked up a sword saying, ‘You won’t take my son from me Talia.’. Of course, she went into the whole spiel of, ‘He is my son. I created him.’.” Damian stopped and looked at the camera. “Then you charged at her and she met you blow for blow. But you started winning. And with every strike you spoke righteously. ‘A mother protects her children. She doesn’t use them or hurts them. A mother loves her children. She would crawl across the earth on her very stomach if it meant they would survive. A mother would stand before the jury and allow them to condemn her to die, if she knew they would live.’. Then you stopped and dealt the last strike and stood above her victoriously. ‘A mother is the first and last line of defense for her family Talia. I protect my family, come hell or high-water, and I will stand before them time and again, taking each blow.’ You pointed your sword at her. ‘Until you understand that…you will never be a mother.’. Then you took me and left.” Damian looked at the canvas and blew on it, before flipping it around, revealing a rough sketch of (Y/N). “Talia gave me life…but you have taught me to live…and have been a mother to me since I came here.” He set the canvas down and smiled. “Happy is the son whose faith in his mother remains unchallenged.” He stood. “Happy Birthday. I love you Umi.” The screen faded black, and (Y/N) thought it was over, until it lit up again and Bruce was there. He held out a few sheets of paper, then set them down.

           “I was going to go off a script…but you’d rather have me wing it.” He chuckled, then his face went serious. “I’ve been alone for a long time (Y/N). After mom and dad…I closed everyone off. I kept them out…even Alfred at times. And I went about my life, hell-bent on a promise I made at eight years old.” Bruce paused. “I came back and took on my mantle…and night after night…I fought. And I started to feel like I was missing something. Then, I got this new assistant, and everything changed.” He smiled at the camera. “Eventually, she learned my secret…and I waited for her to leave. But…she didn’t…instead…she took on a mantle and fought with me.” He spoke solemnly. “She became my wife…and later…the mother of my children. She made me see that though Batman is a part of me…it isn’t who I am. I am Bruce Wayne first, husband to (Y/N) Wayne second, father to Richard John Grayson-Wayne, Jason Peter Todd-Wayne, Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, and Damian Wayne third, son to Alfred Pennyworth fourth, and Batman fifth.” He cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t be the man that I am today if it wasn’t for you (Y/N). You’ve made a man remember that the world isn’t totally evil…and that it’s okay to break sometimes.” He smiled at the camera. “I love you (Y/N) Wayne.” Black colored the screen, and the boys showed up, Bruce sitting in the middle.

           “Mom, we hope you enjoyed the video. And we hope you know how lucky we are to have you.”

           “Ma, you mean the world to us. You bend over backwards for us.”

           “Mom, you’ve saved us more times than we can count…figuratively and literally.”

           “Umi…you are our defense…first…and last.”

           “(Y/N). We wouldn’t be the men we are today if we didn’t have you.”

           They all smiled at the camera and waved, ringing out a chorus of ‘I love you Mom/Ma/Mom/Umi! Happy Birthday!’, and ‘I love you (Y/N), Happy Birthday.’. The screen faded, indicating the end of the video, and they all turned to their mother and wife, to see her reaction. (Y/N) had her face in her hands, sobbing heart-wrenchingly, and they became concerned. “Mom? You okay?” She nodded her head, still sobbing and she reached out her hands. Slowly, the boys moved, and they tucked themselves into her arms; she squeezed as tightly as she could and held them. After a few minutes, she calmed down enough that she wasn’t sobbing loudly, and she spoke quietly.

           “I love you boys.” Choruses of ‘I love you too’, came through and she pulled away, wiping her face; though the tears kept coming. “I am so proud to be your mom. I love each and everyone of you so dearly.” She paused and sucked in a breath. “This is the greatest gift I could have ever received…Thank you.” The fell into her arms again, and she felt Bruce wrap his arms around her middle, and he leaned his head next to hers. He whispered softly.

           “I love you (Y/N) Wayne.” (Y/N) felt a wave of fresh tears come around and she nodded, leaning into him.

           “I love you too Bruce Wayne.” She felt his lips touch her temple and he spoke again.

           “Happy Birthday (Y/N).”

#batmom imagine #batmom imagines #batmom x batfamily #batmom x batfamily imagines #bruce wayne imagines #bruce wayne imagine #batmom fanfic #batfamily #batfamily fanfiction #batfamily fanfic #batfamily imagines #batfamily imagine #bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #damian wayne #robin #dc imagine #dc comics #dc imagines #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction

[marvelslut16]

I Promise

Pairing: Stanley Uris x Bowers!Reader (young) 

Request/synopsis: “Hi! If you’re still writing Stanley Uris, could you write a little childhood piece taking place during the first movie where the reader is one of the bullies’ little sister and hates what her brother and his friends are doing to the losers and starts to hanging out with them and the boys make fun of Stan because it’s obvious that he likes her and one day they’re walking and end up on the kissing bridge and he just starts rambling to her about something he saw and she interrupts him by kissing him”

Word count: 4,390 I think I got carried away

Warnings: Swearing. Mentions of attempted murder? Use of the term flamer, it means flamboyant gay, Stan is called that by Patrick in the books. Mentions a lewd act that happens in the book as well. Violence from a brother. Bullying. Some angst? Pennywise, that should definitely be a warning lmao.  Blood/gore/violence, typical for the IT fandom. Sort of mentions character death.

A/N: Sorry if this wasn’t exactly what you wanted, I tried to do this request justice (since it was my first! Thank you to the anon that asked for it!) but I definitely took it on an angsty ride lol. I definitely focused more on Henry and the time in the sewers than I originally planned.  Sorry this took so long as well, I wasn’t sure how to fit all of my ideas together. I really like how this turned out, but it’s also like two in the morning so there could be typos. 

Do you like being Henry's little sister? Of course not. Siblings or not, Henry treats you like shit too, at least he has the decency to keep it behind closed doors. On top of that, everyone avoids you, expecting you to be just like your brother or Greta. Greta is relatively nice to you, or as nice as demon spawn can be, she never makes fun of you or bullies you, she even tries to include you in her shit. Thinking, like everyone, that Henry actually likes you; and this way she can make a good impression and he can finally ask her out. 

You walk out of the front doors of the school on the last day to see your lovely brother and his idiot friends teasing Stan and his group of friends, stealing the curly-haired boys kippah. Richie, being his typical self, starts screaming and insulting Henry, making him angrier. Henry takes said anger out on Stan, pushing him to the ground and pulling his leg back to kick the smaller boy in the side. 

“Hey!” you scream and rush over to the scene, before you can realize what you're doing. 

“Come to defend your boyfriend?” your brother sneers before laughing like a lunatic. 

“Back off Henry,” you glare at him, stepping between him and Stan. You can hear the poor boy behind you struggling to stand up.

“Or what?” Henry leans in, face inches from yours. He has never made his dislike for you public, even his friends are shocked by his actions. “You gonna run home and tell Dad?”

“Tempting,” you push him away from your face, mindful that your father is on duty somewhere in the ocean of students. As he’s distracted by the shove, you yank the kippah free from his grasp. “You want them, you go through me.”

“That can be arranged,” he grits his teeth, gesturing for his friends to grab you. 

They look shocked for a second, before Belch wraps his large arms around your middle to hold you back. Your brother smirks at you as he advances on Stan, preparing to punch him. Your pleas for him to stop advancing on the loser’s, as they’re dubbed, fall on deaf ears. 

“Let go of me you creep!” you yell at Belch, before slamming your foot down on his. He lets go of you before bouncing around in pain, like a stupid cartoon character. You run between Henry and the Losers, but not before he can shove Richie to the ground. “Go home Henry,” you shove his chest again. 

“You can’t make me,” he flips open his switchblade as he advances on you. The rest of the world seems to still and all you can think is will Henry really hurt you? You hear the muffled cries from the boys behind you get louder with each step your brother takes towards you.

“What’s going on here?” your dad's voice cuts through the haze, Henry backs off and hides his knife before Dad can see. 

“I was just offering her a ride home,” Henry scowls as he turns to your father.

“And I was telling him that I was going to go hang out with my friends,” you use your thumb to point at the boys behind you. Your Dad eyes them wearily before ultimately coming to the conclusion that they’re a harmless group of nerds. He nods at you and sends Henry a small glare that if you blink you’ll miss before heading back the way he came. 

“Watch yourself,” Henry warns before making his way to Belch’s car, friends in tow. You let out a sigh as they drive away, shoulders slumping as your adrenaline wears off.

“I think this belongs to you,” you smile at Stan, handing him his kippah.

“Thanks,” he breathes, he looks like he wants to continue speaking but no words come out. As he grabs the kippah from you, his fingers brush against yours and a blush creeps up his cheeks. You grin at how adorable he is. 

“Are you guys okay?” you glance between him and Richie. Stan just nods and Richie rolls his eyes at the doe eyed look his friend is giving you. 

“I’d say we didn’t need your help, but Stan the man here certainly liked being your damsel in distress,” Richie smacks a hand on Stan’s shoulder and laughs, you soon join in. Stan smacks the boy with the glasses harder than you think anyone realized he could. “Ow, that fucking hurt” Richie whines, rubbing his arm and sulking off to Eddie. 

“D-do y-y-you wan-nt to go-o to the qu-qu-quarry wi-with us?” Bill asks and Richie smirks at the idea.

“I should go before Henry gets even more mad,” you play with the hem of your shirt. “But thank you for asking.”

“Please,” Richie clasps his hands and blinks dramatically at you, sticking his bottom lip out in an over dramatic pout. 

“Why not?” you grin at the losers, but at Stan the most. 

--

Over the following weeks you grow closer to the boys; Bev, Mike, and Ben too when they join the losers club. One day the eight of you are at the quarry trying to ignore the whole killer clown thing. Stan looks nervous about jumping into the water, even though you’ve seen him do it multiple times already. So you decide to grab his hand and pull him down with you withput warning. He lets out a high pitched screech that you almost can’t hear over the wind whipping past you. 

Once you and Stan, the last two to jump down, break the water's surface Richie grabs Eddie repeatedly screaming the word chicken and shaking the smaller boy. Bev grabs Ben’s hand to which he grins at. Richie and Bill share a look before the stuttering boy wades over to you. 

“W-w-will you b-be my par-pa-partner?” Bill smiles at you, his eyes sparkling in the sunlight. 

“Of course!” you smile at your friend, happy that the group accepted you quickly even though you’re a Bowers. You don’t see the glare Stan is sending Bill as he pairs up with Mike. Richie smirks at the rest of the group, you and Stan oblivious to the looks they send each other and their plan to make Stan so jealous he tells you how he feels. 

--

“So Stan,” Richie sings.

“No,” Stan says, watching you and Bev ride your bikes to your house for a sleepover. Her dad was worse than normal lately and she needed an escape, and you loved the escape it created from your brother. 

“I never asked my fucking question,” the boy with the coke-bottle glasses pouts.

“Because nothing good ever comes out of your mouth,” Stan deadpans, finally turning to look at his friends. You rode past the curve at the end of the road effectively taking you out of Stan’s line of sight, so he had no reason not to look at his friends now. 

“You were holding hands with (Y/N),” Eddie speaks up from Richie’s side. “Which is just fucking disgusting! Do you know how many germs-”

 His voice is cut off when Richie slaps his hand over the smaller boy's mouth. The look of terror on the hypochondriac’s face is one that Richie won’t stop laughing at for years to come. 

“She pulled me off the ledge,” Stanley rolls his eyes, suppressing a blush as he remembers how soft and warm your hand was. “It meant nothing.”

“And big Bill doesn’t fucking stutter,” Richie rolls his brown eyes, which look like googly eyes since they’re magnified by his glasses. 

“What?” Stan asks looking at the road in front of him, not wanting his friends to see how red his face and ears are. 

“I thought we were coming up with obvious lies,” Richie shrugs. “You’ve been in fucking love with her since you two got paired up at the beginning of the damn school year.”

“Have not!” Stan tries to lie, but his face darkens three shades deeper. The red instantly gives his obvious feelings away to his smirking friends. 

“It’s that or you have rosacea,” Edidie looks up at the Jewish boy with mock innocent eyes. “Because your cheeks are bright red every time you're around her.” Stan doesn’t respond because he knows they’re right, so he just walks away from them.

--

“Do you like Stan?” Bev giggles at the sleepover. The two of you had been talking about her and Ben prior to the question. 

“Yeah,” you mumble, looking down at your hands resting in your lap. “He’s so nice, and so sweet, and so caring. Plus, he went out of his way to help me when I was confused in class this year.”

“Yeah-” you cut off the redhead. 

“And the way his curls fall in front of his eyes when he’s leaning forward, so he has to angrily huff at it to try to blow the curl away. And the way his face scrunches up all adorably when he’s concentrating on a hard problem.”

Before you can continue fawning over your friend, your door slams open. It hits the wall behind it with a loud crack, where you later find a hole in the wall the handle created. In the doorway is a pissed off Henry, steam practically shooting out of his ears. 

“I thought I told you to stay away from him and the rest of those fucking losers?” he shouts, you’re dad isn’t here to hear him. “And now I hear you talking about that damn flamer with the schools slut no less.”

“Funny that you call Stan a flamer,” you smirk at your brother as you stand from the bed, subtly stepping in front of  Bev so she’s behind you and away from your brother's wrath. “When Patrick gave you a hand job.” 

“How the fuck did you hear about that?” he slams his fist into the wall beside him, knocking off a framed photo of a bird Stan had sketched for you during the school year. 

“I saw it with my own two eyes, dumb ass,” you sneer at him. “Next time you want to get a hand job from your boyfriend, don’t do it at the dump.”

“I’m gonna kill you,” he roars, closing in on you. Bev lets out a small gasp behind you, you feel bad she has to witness this. Especially when she came here to get away from her dad.

“Go ahead, then run off to get your oral from him,” you laugh. Before Henry can do anything else, the front door opens and your dad calls for you two. You sigh in relief as your older brother storms out of your room. You and Bev never bring up what was said or what just happened. 

--

You got separated from Stan while in Neibolt, but luckily Bill was with you. The horrors you all faced in that run down house will forever haunt each and every one of you. You’re shaking slightly as Stan and you cling onto each other as the two of you walk out of that horrendous place. 

You gasp loudly and hide your face in Stan’s chest as Bill punches Richie in the face. Your body starts to shake slightly without your permission, being taken back to when Henry punched the wall a few days prior. Bev pulls you into her side as Stan and Mike help Richie up. Bill goes for Richie again, but Ben holds him back. Richie yells back in retaliation.

“Stop,” you whimper, body trembling worse. Visions of your dad and Henry yelling at each other and shoving one another flash through your mind. A memory of Henry punching the locker beside your head when you were the last two in school floats to the forefront of your mind. “Please.”

Stan immediately rushes over to you and pulls you into his chest, you don’t care if he finds out about your feelings anymore as you grip onto his striped polo. He’s an anchor in the storm of your mind. Even when Henry isn’t around, he’s still lurking in the back of your mind making sure he can hurt you. The rest of the group stops what they’re doing for a minute to glance at the two of you before walking in two separate directions. Bev gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze as she leaves. 

“How about I walk you home? Stan offers, rubbing his hand in a calming motion on your back. 

“Can we go on a walk instead?” you ask nervously, pulling away slightly. He keeps his arms wrapped around you as he studies your face. He keeps his arm around your shoulder as you walk through the park. 

You and Stan take a seat in front of  the giant Paul Bunyan statue, soaking up the summer sun and the sounds of the birds singing. For the next several hours you and Stan lay side by side on the grass as he points out different birds and tells you about them. Your heart pounds every time your fingers brush against each other as they lay in between you. Your body and heart are aching to slip your fingers through his, but your mind is telling you no. You ultimately listen to your mind, feeling dissatisfied with yourself at the awkward wave he gives you as he drops you off at your house. 

--

The days where the losers are fighting rush by, each of them spent doing something with Stan. before you know it, it’s nearing the end of the summer and Pennywise is gone. You reluctantly take part in the blood oath, wanting to leave this town as soon as you turn eighteen and never look back. But you would do anything for your friends, even risk your life for them again. As you're hugging Bev goodbye, you can’t believe she’s really leaving, Stan comes up beside you. 

“Will you go on a walk with me?” Stan asks timidly, not meeting your eyes. The puffy bandages around his face make your heart lurch at the thought of how much pain he must have endured. 

“Sure,” you nod even though he’s staring at the ground in front of his feet. Bev gives you a smile and a slight shove in encouragement. You give her one last smile as you start off down the trail, Stan taking long strides to catch up. 

“What happens now?” Stan asks, his fingers brush against yours as you walk side by side. 

“My aunt’s moving here, so I’m staying,” you don’t turn to look at him, scared to face more disappointment. 

You stop walking when you two reach the kissing bridge, not that you expected anything to happen, but it was a nice view. You look down to see the small S inside the heart you carved earlier in the year, it sits near Richie’s R + E. You absentmindedly rub your wrist, Henry had grabbed you so hard he bruised you when he caught you with his missing switchblade. But it was worth it, in twenty or thirty years from now those markings would still be there, your own little mark on history. 

“I’m glad,” Stan says it so quietly he doesn’t think you’ll hear him, but you do. You glance up at him and immediately frown as you get a better look at the bandages wrapped around his face. It takes you back to the day in the sewers, the day he yelled at you. 

“Stan!” you scream in fear as you wade through the grey water. Your heart is pounding in your chest, this can’t be happening! You can’t lose him, not Stan. One minute he was with the group and the next he's gone. “What if IT got him?” your voice shakes in fear.

“You can’t think like that,” Richie says firmly, but you can hear the fear in his voice. 

Before you can respond you hear a scream, one eerily familiar to when you pulled Stan off the ledge at the quarry. “Stan!” you scream again as you run past your friends through the dark smelly sewers to find the curly haired boy that you care for. 

You reach the closed door at the end of the tunnel, opening the rusty metal on your own thanks to the adrenaline rush. Your friends' screams of Stanley get louder as they catch up to you. All six of you rush through the door and look for Stan in the large underground room. You walk around and come face to face with the creepy women from the painting he hates eating his face. A strangled sound somewhere between a gasp and a whimper escapes your mouth, alerting your friends that you found him. 

“What the fuck is that?” Richie asks as Eddie shines Stan’s discarded flashlight at the thing. The multiple rows of teeth finally let go of Stan and the lady looks at the lot of you.

“Get off of him!” you scream, reaching down beside you and grabbing a rusty pipe. You chuck the metal at the creature smacking it in the middle of the face, it opens its mouth and hisses at you before retreating. 

You all breathe a small sigh of release, until Pennywise peeks his head out from behind the corner. All six of you let out high pitched screams, but all you can think about is Stan’s safety not your own. As Pennywise hides behind the corner again you run and drop to your knees at Stan’s side, the rest of the boys quickly following suit. You reach out and touch his arm, muttering his name in a soft calming voice, but all he does is scream in terror. 

“Get off me!” he pushes six pairs of hands off of him as he scrambles away from you and the rest of the losers club. “You left me! You took me to Neibolt! You aren’t my friends!” 

“Stan, we were looking for you. We were so worried, I was so worried,” your hand gently touches his cheek, trying to see how much physical damage IT had caused.

“Get away from me!” he glares at you as he smacks your hand away from him. “You're no better than Henry! Worse than him! You tricked me into being your friend just so you could hurt me!”

You rip yourself away from the curly haired boy so fast you fall flat on your ass as you try to move away. You gasp and tears fill your eyes, Bill’s hand gently squeezes your shoulder. He had been with you at Neibolt, he saw that your fear was Henry. Your feelings for Stan were obvious, so the accusations made the rest of the boys angry at Stan for hurting you. Tears fall quickly from your cheeks as you stand and back away from the group. You need to get out of there, away from Stan, away from the pain. 

The rest of the losers back away from their friend and get ready to search for their favorite redhead. You all find Bev quickly, and you smirk as Ben kisses her to wake her up. Pennywise soon appears, attacking Bill first, the rest of you try to fight the clown but it doesn’t work.

“Let him go!” Bev’s plea reminds you of yours from earlier. 

“No, I’ll take him” IT shakes its head with a grin. The killer clown explains to the group how it will eat your flesh as it feasts on your fears. “I’ll take him and only him,” IT offers. 

“Leave,” Bill begs the losers.

“I’m gonna have to kill this fucking clown,” Richie complains. “Welcome to the losers club asshole!” he screams, hitting Pennywise in the face with a discarded baseball bat. 

Chaos erupts, everyone grabs for a weapon to fight the clown with. As everyone starts attacking IT with the garbage they found, IT manages to slip away. You all decide, stupidly, to split up and look for Pennywise. 

“Good morning sunshine,” Henry’s annoying voice whispers into your right ear, dialogue straight from an incident where he almost seriously injured you. “Dad’s not home.” You can hear the smirk in IT’s voice.

“This isn’t real! You aren’t Henry! You aren’t real!” you scream, the losers stop their search for the clown and watch on nervously. 

“It’s time to play sis!” IT laughs like a maniac as he walks in front of you, you're forced to stare up into IT’s eyes. Pennywise steps closer so you step back, which you do again and again. A replica of Henry’s switchblade pops open and is pointed directly at your gut. “Daddy dearest isn’t home to stop me!”

“Go through with it! Do it! Do what the real Henry never had the guts to do!” you scream at your brother- well Pennywise. He has you backed into a wall, switchblade dully pushing into you just above your navel. Your chest rising and falling rapidly as you pant, angry tears mixing with the heartbroken ones from earlier as you stare defiantly at the thing that had been after you and your friends all summer.  

IT backs away slowly, your brothers-Pennywise’s- head tilting to the side as he studies you. A grin too large to be humanly possible splits across Henry’s face, rows of teeth on display as IT laughs in delight. You see your friends inching closer to you and the clown, you make eye contact with Richie giving him a slight shake of your head. He sighs in defeat, grabbing both Stan and Eddie pulling them back, the rest of the losers halt when they realize what the trashmouth did. 

“You were easy to crack,” IT giggles loudly, shifting back into a clown. IT lifts a hand up, finger tracing your cheek down to your throat, stopping directly over your artery.   

“Take me and leave my friends alone!” you glare up at IT. 

As the clown goes to open its mouth, Ben comes out of nowhere and stabs IT right in the back. The rest of the losers start attacking IT again, the clown shifts from fear to fear in hopes of getting one of the losers to stop. It shifts to Bev’s father, so she stabs a rusty rod right down IT’s throat in order to make him go away. The clown convulses and backs away from the group. 

“That’s why you didn’t kill (Y/N) and Bev, because they weren’t afraid of you!” it’s the first time you’ve ever heard Bill not stutter. “We aren’t afraid of you. Now it’s your turn to be afraid, because you’ll starve.” IT flips itself into a hole that leads lower into the sewer system, letting go and disintegrating before Bill can whack IT with a pipe. 

You all stare in shock for a few moments before making your way out of the sewers and towards your homes. The losers all talking amongst themselves, all but you. you’re ahead of the group, wanting to put as much distance between you and Stan as you possibly can. Eddie too, he had already asked what you meant while Pennywise was still Henry. Two conversations you definitely didn’t want to have. 

“(Y/N/N)? You okay?” Stan’s distant and worried voice breaks you out of your memories. “Where were you just now?”

“I’m fine,” you lie and he can tell by the flash of pain that crosses your face. “Just thinking about the other day.”

“I didn’t mean what I said,” Stan frowns, turning away from the carvings on the wood to face you fully. “I wasn’t in the right head space-”

“It’s fine,” you murmur, fingers gently running over the S carved into the wood.

“No it isn’t,” he says firmly, you look at him with wide eyes. You weren’t expecting him to get so serious about it. “IT messed with my head, made me see things that weren’t true and I took it out on you.” 

“Stan, I get it. IT knew how to hurt us most,” you reach over and lightly wrap your hand around his in a reassuring gesture. He stares down at your joined hands for a moment, ears turning a vibrant red, before continuing with his explanation. 

“He showed me a vision of you and Bill kissing,” Stan flips his hand over and laces his fingers with yours. 

“What-” you’re eyebrows furrow as you watch his face grow from pink to red. 

“I like you, (Y/N). A lot. And when IT showed me that it broke my heart. Deep down I knew it wasn’t real, but it felt so real. I’ve liked you since the beginning of the school year, and I never had the guts to tell you. Because why would you like me? You could have any guy, how could you ever possibly want me-” you cut him off by gently pressing your lips to his. It’s a soft and fast peck, but you still pull away smiling. “What?”

“I like you too, you loser. For just as long, I was scared to say anything because of Henry,” you giggle at his shock, mouth open and eyes wide. “Close your mouth or you’ll catch flies.”

“Speaking of Henry,” Stan’s mouth snaps shut before his lips pull into a deep frown. “What did you mean back in the sewers?” You sigh, not wanting to admit it allowed. Stan pushes a strand of hair away from your face before cupping your cheek gently. 

“Henry thought I broke his Atari, so he screamed at me endlessly and threatened to kill me,” you admit softly, rage and sadness battle within Stan’s eyes as he takes in the information. “It wasn’t the first time he threatened that, but it seemed different that time. My dad had no idea, he only heard some of the yelling, which he screamed at Henry for doing. So that made Henry even more mad at me. But anyway, it turns out that it was Belch that broke it.”

“(Y/N),” Stan says softly, pulling you into his embrace. “I’ll never let anyone else hurt you.”

“Promise?” you ask hopefully, could you really finally be happy? 

“I promise,” he kisses your forehead softly. “I know this isn’t great timing, but will you be my girlfriend?”

“I’d love to,” you grin at him, gently caressing the bandages as you pull him in for another kiss.

tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen​ @rexorangecouny​

#Stan the man #stan uris #stanley uris #stanley uris imagine #stan uris x reader #it fanfiction #it #it chapter one #it chapter two #stan uris fanfiction #stan uris imagine #stan uris one shot #stanley uris one shot #stanley uris x reader #it 2017 #it 2019 #the losers club #the losers club x reader #stanley uris fanfiction

[dimigex]

Healing Hands, Chapter Seven

New chapter is up and I’m so excited to say it’s a start of the new arc! 

You can find it on Fanfiction and Archive (linked for your convenience). But, here’s a snippet. The full chapter was over 8k words, so please find it on one of the other sites if you want to read the rest!  

After nearly a month of careful inquiries, disappointing viewings, and unreasonable prices, Sakura found an apartment. The process had been about what she'd expected, though the selection left a lot to be desired. Sakura had wanted somewhere closer to the hospital than her parents house, but in a different building from Kazuko's. She'd formed an uneasy truce with the man over the past few weeks by ignoring what happened between them. There had been no more dinners or mixed-up, alcohol-fueled kisses in the dark, only professionalism.

Sakura found it easy to shift from budding friendship to simple coworkers, and Kazuko didn't question it. She was thankful for that much at least, because, regardless of their extracurricular problems, Sakura and Kazuko worked well together at the hospital. She didn't depend on him as much as she might have before things changed, but at least it wasn't awkward any longer.

The majority of Sakura's free time had been spent looking for an apartment, then getting her life in Konoha settled. She had taken Naruto out for ramen one night and was surprised to find that the boy had matured in the time they'd spent apart. He'd been busy with missions in an attempt to bolster his number of completed missions. Naruto needed to catch up if he wanted to be considered for Hokage in a few years when Kakashi retired. It was nice to know that his dream hadn't faded, especially when so many other things had changed.

Naruto and Sakura's conversation had turned to Sasuke at one point during dinner, but Naruto read the situation and dropped it after a couple of awkward questions. The night had gone better than Sakura thought it would, and they'd agreed to meet up every few weeks to stay in touch. Naruto spent a lot of time in and out of the village with missions these days, but he promised to make an effort to see Sakura, especially if it involved ramen. Some things would never change.

Smiling to herself, Sakura fussed over the pillows on the couch. They weren't the color that she would have chosen, but they complemented the rest of the room. Mebuki had picked them out on their latest shopping trip. Her mother's touch was obvious in each of the rooms, but Sakura hadn't resisted, even when she disagreed. Mebuki needed to feel like she still had a place in Sakura's life and the colors didn't bother her that much. Besides, she could "lose" the pillows later if she wanted to.

A knock on the door drew Sakura away from her contemplations. Taking a deep breath, she finished adjusting the cushions and went to answer. Sakura was both looking forward to having Ino over, and nervous about it at the same time. The girls had talked only a couple of times over the past few weeks, mostly commiserating about how hard being an adult was. Then, they'd laughed about being considered adults. Rebuilding her friendship with Ino felt natural, normal even.

When Sakura opened the door, Ino stepped into the tiny space and looked around with a telling curl on her lips. When her gaze came back to Sakura's face, however, the blond's smile was falsely bright. "It's cute."

Sakura groaned at the fake optimism and closed the door. "Is it bad?"

Ino didn't answer for a long moment, looking around the room with a calculating expression. Then, she nodded as if she'd reached some decision. "Are you allowed to paint?"

"I think so," Sakura answered, raising her shoulders in a shrug. "I'll have to check the lease."

True to her promise, Mebuki had helped Sakura decorate when she moved in two days ago. Candles, photographs, and trinkets filled the space in a way that Sakura never would have considered on her own. It almost felt like a home, or would soon enough. Only a few hours before Ino arrived, Mebuki had appeared with half a dozen bags in hand. The new throw pillows on the couch and the towels in the bathroom were a reminder of her mother's attention to detail.

It wasn't until Sakura moved her things into the larger space that she realized how few personal items she'd accumulated over the years. Thankfully, the apartment had basic furniture; Sakura didn't own any. A picture of her much younger self and the rest of Team Seven grinned at Sakura from a table beside the door. Half a dozen other snapshots surrounded it. Medical textbooks that Tsunade had gifted to her were tucked into a basket beside the couch. A bowl of bright fruit sat on the table.

"We can fix it," Ino declared, placing her bags beside the couch. After a moment, the blond turned to face Sakura, a devious grin sliding onto her lips. "So, who is he?"

Frowning, Sakura tried to follow the mental leap from talking about the apartment to whatever this was. "Who is who?"

Ino reached into one of the bags and pulled out a bottle of wine and matching glasses. As she walked toward the kitchen, she called over her shoulder. "It's not Sasuke again, is it? He wasn't good for you the first time, and he won't be any better the second."

Once Sakura finally caught up to Ino's reasoning, she rolled her eyes and followed her friend to the kitchen. "What makes you think there is even a him to begin with?"

Affecting a gasp, Ino covered her mouth and waggled her eyebrows in Sakura's direction. "Well then, who is she?"

Ino's question ended in a strangled gasp when Sakura smacked her with one of the questionably colored tea towels that Mebuki had selected. The girls dissolved in a fit of laughter that left them with red faces and aching sides. Still chuckling, Ino poured two glasses of wine, then followed Sakura back to the living room. As they settled on opposite sides of the creaky couch, Ino tipped her head to the side to study Sakura. "Seriously though, why the sudden urge to move out if it wasn't to get a little action? You said it's been months since you got some. How do you stand it?"

Sakura tried not to let herself flush at the memory of the almost dalliance with Kazuko as she shrugged. "There are more important things than sex. Besides, work keeps me busy."

"Riveting." Ino mimed a yawn, then her lips contorted into a wicked smile. "Speaking of work, I've heard that there's a good-looking, young doctor at the hospital these days. Would you happen to know anything about that?"

Sakura grinned, forcing the thoughts of Kazuko as far from her mind as possible. "I am pretty cute."

"Ha ha, very funny." Ino rolled her eyes then tossed a pillow at Sakura. "You know, I also heard that this handsome young medic had dinner with a certain pink haired kunoichi who you might also know."

Fighting down the blush that threatened to stain her cheeks, Sakura kept her expression neutral. She had already started to regret going to eat with Kazuko for fear of the rumors it could spawn. If she had to deal with it from Ino as well, Sakura wasn't sure that she'd make it. "Don't you have better things to do than gossip?"

The blond laughed. "I am Head of Intelligence in Konoha. It's pretty much my job to know everything."

"You don't have to be so good at it," Sakura grumbled, realizing that she'd been beaten before her mouth opened. Ino probably knew more about Kazuko than Sakura did. Though, maybe not, since he wasn't a shinobi. Accepting that Ino wouldn't leave it alone, Sakura settled on a version of the truth to feed the woman's curiosity. "We'd had a shitty day and were just decompressing."

"Together." Ino drew out the word with a suggestive flair, eyebrows waggling.

Huffing out an annoyed breath, Sakura nodded. "Yes, together, and that's all there is to it. He's a civilian."

Ino hummed under her breath, considering the words from multiple angles before speaking. "Does that mean you have to go on a certain number of dates before you can fuck him? I can never remember."

Laughter burst out of Sakura before she could stop it. "I don't think so, but it wasn't an issue. What about you? Who are you sleeping with these days?"

For the first time in a long time, the color on Ino's cheeks had nothing to do with makeup. Sakura's mouth fell open at the unexpected reaction. "Oh my god, who is it?"

"Nobody," Ino answered, draining the remainder of her wine in one long pull. "I think it's time for a refill. It's hardly a housewarming party without a little alcohol."

Narrowing her eyes at her best friend, Sakura held out her glass. Perhaps the drink would loosen Ino's tongue about whomever it was that made her blush like a little girl again. And if not, Sakura had sources too. Ino wasn't the only person who could dig up a little gossip.

----------BREAK-----------

Moving into her own apartment had given Sakura a modicum of freedom that she hadn't known she'd been missing. At least, in some respects. On the first night that Sakura worked, Mebuki had brought dinner by, and there had been enough leftovers to last several days. When those were finished, Sakura realized that she'd have to add a grocery trip and meal preparation to her routine, not to mention laundry. She hadn't recognized how much her mother still helped her until she had to do everything herself.

Even so, Sakura was thankful to have a place to call her own. She could have the occasional glass of wine without her mother's disapproving looks, sleep late on her days off, and have people over whenever she wanted. Not that Sakura had many opportunities for the latter. Apparently everyone else was busy doing adult things too.

Sakura hadn't found the time to take Naruto out for ramen a second time. Their schedules made it difficult, but she hadn't put as much effort into it as she should have. Sakura simply didn't have time to do everything that she wanted to do with all of her responsibilities. Not to mention, constantly being on alert for Anbu who might need her. Over the past week, she'd only treated one shinobi, a genin who'd gotten over enthusiastic with his shuriken training.

The situation with Kazuko had settled down, though Sakura hadn't talked to him about anything. They had gone their separate ways like adults, working together when necessary and separately when possible. She thought that time would eventually smooth it over. Now, if she could learn to control the blush that crept in whenever an unwanted memory sprung up in her mind.. Maybe Ino was right. Sakura just needed to get laid.

Not much chance of that, Sakura mused as she settled in bed after a long day. Her shift at the hospital hadn't been so bad, it was the running around after work that did her in. But, at least she had enough fresh vegetables to make food for the next several days. Contemplating which dishes she wanted to try her hand at first, Sakura drifted to sleep..

The onions were too large to be considered diced, and Sakura couldn't get her eyes to stop watering long enough to correct her mistake. She grumbled under her breath and continued to chop the pesky vegetables. A pan bubbled and hissed; steam rose in tantalizing waves that wafted the scent of meat and garlic across the room. Sakura nodded to herself, shoved the onions into a smaller bowl, and moved back to the stove.

Focused on the food, Sakura didn't hear the soft footfalls behind her until arms snaked around her middle. She squeaked and suppressed the urge to lash out with chakra. Soft kisses burned a trail along the shell of her ear as she swatted the hands. She tried to complain that she was too busy for the man's attention, but they both knew it was a lie.

When Sakura turned, the man's face was indistinct, a face that she could have seen hundreds of times during her day. She didn't have long to study his features before warm kisses made her forget everything else. Nimble fingers worked at the apron that Sakura had secured around her midsection; his hands drifted lower as the string came loose.

Beep, beep, beep. Sakura squeezed her eyes shut as the hands pulled her closer in a dizzying rush. The kisses along her neck were gaining heat, burning through her attention span. "Don't you need to get that," an unfamiliar voice husked by her ear. Beep, beep, beep. Sakura reached for the oven behind her, frowning at the numbers slowly ticking down. Beep, beep, beep.

The buzzing of Sakura's pager drew her from the warm confines of sleep. She blinked, trying to capture the remnants of her dream, but the urgency of the noise drove them from her mind. Sakura peered at the tiny digits indicating the time, then groaned. Why couldn't Anbu have emergencies during normal business hours?

Throwing off the blankets, Sakura climbed out of bed and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. She stripped off the oversized t-shirt and reached for standard issue jonin blues. Sakura couldn't be bothered with the complicated snaps and buttons of her normal attire while half asleep. Tying off the pants, she grabbed a bag that held everything she'd need for an emergency consultation from beside the night stand and headed toward the door.

The streets of Konoha were eerily quiet in the deepest hours of the night, deserted except for the occasional flicker of unseen protectors at the corner of Sakura's vision. The fluorescent lights of the hospital glowed in the darkness, drawing Sakura like a moth. When she stepped through the doors, the same blanket of silence that cloaked the village enveloped the reception area.

Sakura turned away from the serenity, preparing for chaos. She'd barely reached the shinobi wing before Chiasa hurried toward her. Blood splattered the woman's scrubs as she indicated one of the rooms. "This way, Haruno-sensei."

Chiasa had already attached monitors to the patient while awaiting Sakura's arrival. The machines beeped an urgent rhythm that forced the last vestiges of sleep from Sakura's mind. Her eyes darted to the heart rate, lips pulling into a frown. The number was higher than Sakura wanted to see for someone as physically fit as an Anbu.

A flash of silver caught Sakura's eye; armor littered the floor. A chest plate tilted haphazardly against the leg of a chair. Metal arm guards and black compression gloves piled in a corner. Streaks of mud brown and dappled crimson looked like a macabre art display against the crispness of the bed's sheets.

Shaking her head to clear the image, Sakura moved closer to the bed. She noticed the man lying on it for the first time. Familiar brown hair stuck up in a dozen directions, pushed there by the faceplate and mask that lay beside his hand. Despite the chaos of the scene around them, Yamato's face looked markedly untouched by whatever injuries had brought him to the hospital.

The man's black compression shirt had been cut away, baring Yamato's chest to the light. Minor cuts and gashes decorated his arms and shoulders, each one in various states of healing. On his left side, a bloody bandage clung to the skin, mud and dirt covering it. The edges were too saturated to bond well; it had reopened at some point, allowing debris into the wound.

Sakura dropped her bag into a chair and dug out the tools she needed. One hand came up with a stethoscope that she draped around her neck, and the other held a pen light. Sakura thumbed open Yamato's eyes to check his pupil's reaction and was surprised to feel the burn of fever beneath her fingers. "Yamato? Can you hear me? Do you know where you are?"

When the man didn't answer, Sakura tucked the light into her pocket and turned to Chiasa. "What do we know? Do we have any information? Where is his team?"

Chiasa glanced down at the notes, though Sakura knew the woman hadn't forgotten any of the information from the intake. The nurse nodded to herself. "A member of his team brought him in while he was unconscious. The girl didn't stay around to check on his status."

Sakura frowned at that addition, wondering if friendships in the black ops meant so little and who the girl was. She didn't have time to answer that question now. Chiasa offered a shrug as if she could read Sakura's thoughts, then continued. "I was told that I don't have clearance for the details of the mission, so your guess is as good as mine on what happened."

A flash of fury burst in Sakura's chest at the words, but she forced it away. With a sharp dip of her head, she moved closer to Yamato and sighed. "I wish I had the time to be gentle."

Bracing her hands against Yamato's shoulders, Sakura pushed her chakra through his semi-conscious defenses. The man arched, a soft growl ripping free from his throat as she probed the injuries. As she'd expected, a dozen or more smaller wounds vied for her attention. They were minor compared to the one on Yamato's side. Another significant cut crossed his thigh, undoubtedly wrapped and hidden by the fabric of his pants, but that would need attention as well.

Ignoring the inconsequential details, Sakura focused on the most threatening injuries. Both the chest and leg were infected. She eased chakra into the wounds, lessening the body's strain to heal itself. A sluggish pulse of blood caught her attention; a tiny laceration on Yamato's liver. Sakura's forehead knit together in concentration as she pushed healing energy around the wound, forcing the body to speed its repair. She spent as much chakra as she dared, but the infection presented another problem.

Sakura lifted her hands away from Yamato's warm skin and wiped them down the front of her pants. It was only then that she realized that she hadn't bothered to don her lab coat, another detail that hardly mattered. She turned back to Chiasa. "Let's start with a broad spectrum antibiotic. Has he been coherent since they brought him in?"

Chiasa shook her head as she turned to the medicine cabinet to find the items needed to start an IV line. Sakura tapped her fingers against her thigh as she chewed her lower lip, mumbling to herself. "Where is your team? Why didn't they stay? And, what the hell happened?"

Grumbling under her breath, Sakura swiped her hair away from her neck in a messy ponytail as she considered the options. Trying to purge infection was trickier than poison; it was a body's response to stimuli instead of foreign invaders that she could isolate. It would be better to clean the wounds with traditional medicine and drain the infections, especially since Sakura wasn't sure what she was dealing with yet.

Sakura released her chakra when Chiasa appeared at her side, holding out the medicine. She nodded and made the notation in Yamato's chart. The page was empty except for Chiasa's intake notes. Sakura resisted the urge to throw the file against the wall as she checked the numbers. Yamato's blood pressure and heart rate were higher than she wanted them to be, especially after healing. Had she missed something?

Kneeling, Sakura picked up the discarded chest plate that she'd noticed earlier. A puncture in the side correlated with the injury to Yamato's chest. Whatever hit him had to have been moving at incredible speed to crumple the armor that way. Sakura placed the item on the chair, then collected the arm guards to join it. She reached for his mask, brushing her fingers over the green and red stripes on the cat's cheeks that had kept his features free of wounds. Sakura wondered if the animal had been assigned, or if Yamato had picked it himself.

After placing the mask with the rest of the armor, Sakura crossed the room to pull a blanket from the cabinet. Since the rest of Yamato's team hadn't stuck around long enough to see how he was doing, she had no idea what to do with it. The man had essentially been abandoned, and it infuriated Sakura. Was that the way that all Anbu treated each other? She couldn't imagine bringing Naruto or Sasuke to the hospital in this condition and leaving them there.

Sakura sighed, watching the efficient way that Chiasa worked. The nurse had already gotten an IV line started in Yamato's wrist and was buzzing around the machines connected to his body. Sakura glanced at his heart rate and blood pressure again, frowning. "I want vitals checked by hand every twenty minutes for the next three hours," she decided aloud.

"If there are no changes after that," Sakura glanced at her watch, startled to find the time so late already. "After that, I'll be back on shift and can reevaluate him myself."

Chiasa nodded, familiar with the expectations. "Do you want any blood work?"

"Yeah, let's get a cbc and blood culture to see what we're up against." Sakura paused, then nodded to herself. There was nothing else that she could accomplish tonight. "I'm going to try and catch a couple of hours of sleep in my office. Wake me if there are any changes."

Gathering her bag from beside the bed, Sakura slung it over her shoulder and walked from the room. The silence of the hallways made her uneasy. She was used to the hustle and bustle that predominated day shift, but more emergencies came through the doors at night. Sprains and stuffy noses were replaced with broken bones and heart attacks. Sakura didn't envy the men and women who worked while everyone else slept. She'd done more than her fair share of night shifts when training with Tsunade, mostly because the woman liked sleep more than she liked her student. Or, so Sakura thought.

A ratty couch tucked into one corner of Sakura's office, a new addition for these late night Anbu surprises. It was hardly long enough to stretch out on, even for someone of Sakura's height, but it worked in a pinch. The room was blissfully dark at least. Sakura tossed her bag onto the floor, then tried to get comfortable on the lumpy cushions. Seconds ticked by, then minutes. Despite the exhaustion nagging the back of her mind, Sakura's body refused to rest. Sighing, she moved back to the desk and flipped on the light.

A dozen charts waited for Sakura's attention, but she couldn't focus enough to deal with the tiny details that they required. Her mind refused to settle enough for sleep, but wouldn't let her work. Sakura had assumed that the worst missions, the ones that left shinobi broken and battered like Yamato, had become an exception now that the world was at peace. She berated herself for that naivety. The current political situation was tenuous at best, forced by fear or respect for Naruto and Sasuke. Anbu continued to put their lives on the line daily and would do so until something major changed

Sakura's frown deepened as she considered Yamato, still trying to reconcile the fact that he was Anbu. She had wondered why she saw so little of him after the war, but hadn't thought to comment on it. Sai had never mentioned the man in relation to Anbu either, but that wasn't surprising considering the security around them. Sai wasn't one to gossip, anyway. Sakura tapped her fingers against her forearm, then checked her watch, less than an hour had passed.

Giving up on the idea of sleep, Sakura pushed to her feet and left her office behind. The halls were still deserted and silent as she walked back to Yamato's room. Chiasa had gone, dimming the lights before she left to help her patient rest. Beside his bed, the alarm on the monitor flashed, but it had been silenced for being constantly out of normal parameters. Yamato's heart rate and blood pressure remained elevated.

The healing, push of fluids, antibiotics, and rest should have lowered the number by now. Sakura stepped closer and captured Yamato's wrist in her hands. Her fingers pressed against his pulse point, surprised to feel the rapid beat through the skin. She had wondered if the machine was getting a false reading somehow, but her physical count came up with the same number or close enough that it made no difference. Sakura laid his hand back on the bed and frowned. "Why aren't you stabilizing?"

As Sakura expected, Yamato didn't answer. Chiasa had cleared away the tatters of his uniform, then cleaned and wrapped the wounds. Yamato's armor remained beneath the blanket where Sakura had left it. The man looked different without the jonin uniform and usual head protector. She brushed her fingers over his forehead, feeling the warmth of fever. Yamato's temperature was up, but not high enough to force his body to shut down. "Did I miss something," Sakura wondered aloud, mentally cycling through the dozens of medical textbooks that she'd read over the years.

Lowering her hands to hover above Yamato's chest, Sakura eased her chakra into his body. The echo of the man's life force ruled out chakra exhaustion. Sakura had tended to Kakashi after battle enough times to know what that felt like. Yamato's chakra brimmed with energy and life.

Sakura quested deeper, reexamining the injuries and looking for something that she could have missed. It was exactly as she'd seen earlier, minus her healing. Huffing, she broke the connection between herself and Yamato. When Sakura opened her eyes, she was startled to find Chiasa at the end of the bed with a stethoscope in hand. The woman was coming back to get the next set of vitals. Sakura dipped her chin in greeting. "Have we gotten any results yet?"

"Not yet," Chiasa answered, pulling the file from the box at the end of the bed. "We should have part of it back in the next couple of hours, but the culture will take longer."

"Yeah," Sakura agreed, humming thoughtfully. Her eyes swept over Yamato again, then returned to his heart rate. "Draw a tox screen as well, and put a rush on the results."

If Chiasa was surprised by the unusual request, her face didn't reveal it. She nodded and made a notation in the chart. "Anything else, Haruno-sensei?"

Sakura shook her head, wondering if any of the tests would help her fit the pieces together into an image that made some kind of sense. She rested a hand on Yamato's bare shoulder. "We'll get to the bottom of this soon, I promise."

Don’t miss the rest of the chapter, linked above! 

#dimi write #healing hands #YamaSaku #Tenzo/Sakura #Sakura Haruno #Tenzo #Yamato #SLOW Burn