#the spacing didn't work well when I copied and pasted it

[themochiverse]

Lost | JJK

➳ Pairing: yandere!kidnapper!jk x kidnapped!fem!reader

➳ Genre: Yandere, Angst

➳ Warnings: Swearing, kidnapped reader, jungkook is a bit violent to the reader, implied stalking, implied past assaults, Dub-con/Non-Con kissing and touching, Jungkook degrades the reader, drugging (sleeping pills), implied overdose to kill, suicidal thoughts, hair pulling, and scratches...

➳ Synopsis: When you try to escape from your captor's home one more time, there's always this feeling of lostness, and you don't know why but always feel lost. Lost in thoughts, lost in false hope, and lost in the woods with him.

➳ Word Count: 3k+

➳ Disclaimer: This fanfic is purely from my imagination, I do not intend to harm any Idol or person in any way. Nor sexualising them. Please do not steal any ideas from here, this is all of my work and original work. I DO NOT CONDONE THIS BEHAVIOUR.

Lost ©Copyright -2024- themochiverse - All Rights Reserved

No part of the story can be copied, reproduced, redistributed or transformed into any other form. Meaning no photocopying, recording whether written or electrically. No methods are allowed that use anything from this fic. This follows in the permitted Copyright Law. All images and/or gifs go to their rightful owners.

A/N: Finally wrote something in a while, hope you guys like it :)) Also please don't read if you feel uncomfortable, warnings have been listed above.

Taglist; @minshookie29 @6tslovr @proflyndo @pinkcherrybombs @papijiminfeed @justanotherstarlightmonger @kittykatfey @princess-sunshyn @jinniesjoon94

The dim light in the room emitted a warm, orangish-yellow glow, enveloping the space as your fingers were scratching the corner of a table. The gentle hue seemed to intensify the temperature, wrapping you in a sultry embrace, and causing beads of sweat to form on your skin. As the light flickered softly, your heart thudded in your chest, the rhythm echoing in the stillness of the room.

You gulped, and your foot impatiently tapped the wooden floorboards and it immediately stopped once you heard his footsteps. Your gaze was fixated on the corner of the table— you didn't want to look up.

You wanted to ignore him, wanted to ignore that bile feeling in your stomach that made you nauseous. His boots stomped across the room, getting closer to you and your fingers intensified the scratching.

Jungkook dipped his head towards your neck, his warm breath gently brushing over your skin, as it sent a shiver down your spine. His hands were tangled in the locks of your hair, and he pulled it gently. He kissed the side of your neck and rested his chin on your head.

"Food's cold."

Your eyes darted to the plate of food he had given you not long ago, and you hadn't touched it since he left for some errands. Normally you would eat the meals he made for you but your mind was eating you up, the constant thought of him possibly knowing you tried to escape last night.

But how would he know? Even if you had slipped a pill into his meal, which knocked him out for about thirty minutes, how would you escape? When you opened the front door the chilly air that hit you caused you to blink several times.

You were free. You finally get to leave.

But as you took the first step outside, your eyes scanned the tall trees that decorated the entire area. Your heart sank. You couldn't get out of this place because you don't know how to.

Where would you go even if you had run deep into the woods? Would you even find a road? A path that could lead you to a sane person? You tried to reason with yourself as you looked back inside. This was your chance to get away from a monster like him, you could report him to the police and go back to your family and friends...

But what if he found you? What if you were lost, and by the time he woke up and figured out you were gone, what would he do? He'd go berserk, and he will find you. You don't know why but you're certain of it. You don't know the woods very well unlike him.

Jungkook knows his way around this deserted place, he's lived in this small cabin for years now, and he held you captive for months now. Of course, he would know, he prepared it just for you. What if you died while trying to escape? What if—

You closed the door as your back rested against it. You were so pathetic, so hopeless.

You stood up and walked up the creaky stairs, entering the bedroom where Jungkook was sleeping on. The effect of the pill even had such good timing that it hit him when he was getting ready for bed with you anyway.

Yet, you wasted it.

A scream was lodged in your throat, and your lips trembled. You hated to cry, but you couldn't help it. The warm tears trailed down your face as you crawled onto the bed.

Kill him.

Your own mind spoke to you, and your breaths shook as you heard your next words.

Go on. Wrap your hands around his neck, and kill him.

Decorate him like a bow on a present, and kiss his lips until you can't breathe anymore.

Your eyes widened when your hands were on his neck. They squeezed the fragile base, and you could feel his pulse. Slow and rhythmic, and it matched the quiet breaths he let out.

You inspected his face, and his hair fell on the top of his eyebrows, his eyelids were shut and his lips were parted open.

He was demented, a cruel person. You won't ever forget the things he did to you, how you felt so humiliated because of him. He took you away from your loved ones just so he could selfishly keep you and show his immense love curated just for you.

But you still couldn't do it.

You pulled your hands away quickly and Jungkook's fingers twitched. There wasn't much time left till he woke up. If you killed him, you would have won and lost at the same time.

You had no idea where you were, and there was no cell reception for you to call anyone. How would you prepare food, and fend for yourself? You don't even know a pathway that could help you to leave this damn forest. What would you do without him? But at least he would be gone.

You sighed and wiped your tears away, and you curled up next to him. You don't know why but your hands automatically reached out to play with his hair until you fell asleep. You don't know why but there was a part of you that didn't want to leave him.

You snapped back into reality once you felt Jungkook slither his arms down your shoulders as he murmured softly.

"Come to the bedroom with me, baby."

You didn't hesitate to follow behind him, and even if you didn't want to come he'd force you to anyway. Jungkook shut the door once you stepped inside the bedroom, and he took off his leather jacket before he put it back on again.

He sat on the edge of the bed and checked out the dress you wore for him. A white mini dress adorned with white laced straps, and the soft, flimsy part stopped on your thighs midway. The embodiment of the outfit hugged your structure beautifully like a doll, and Jungkook couldn't control his growing desire for you.

He patted his lap, and his words came out in a command.

"Sit."

You took a step forward, and Jungkook grabbed your waist, making you sit down on his lap. One arm was wrapped around your waist tightly, and his other hand gripped your chin. Your faces were inches away from each other as Jungkook stared at you intently.

"You wanna tell me something, beautiful?"

Dear god no..

You shook your head at him, watching his lips form into a frown.

"Don't lie to me sweetheart, you know I don't like lying."

His tone had turned serious, and your stomach churned uncomfortably. Jungkook shuffled his arm to get something from his pocket, and he retrieved the item, showing it to you.

"What were these doing under the bed, baby?"

He shook the container filled with sleeping pills, (blue and white) and your fingers dug into his shoulders firmly. Your eyes were filled with terror, and panic flooded in your veins.

Jungkook chuckled at your reaction, and he brought your chin closer to his face. You were forced to stare at him, to look into the eyes that frightened you almost every day, no matter how loving he tried to be.

They were crazed...a look you never wanted to see. His tongue peeked out from his lips, and it traced the silver piercing that was on the flesh of his lips.

"You really think you knocked me out last night?"

Your heart banged against your ribcage, and your breathing increased. He can't know, he can't, he can't, he can't-

"Did you think I wouldn't notice the little act of you wanting to cook for me all of a sudden? Huh?"

Jungkook squeezed your cheeks harshly, and his lips moved against your cheek.

"I wanted to play along. Give you that feeling of being triumphant over something ridiculous. You really are a fool, aren't you?"

Your eyes darted away from his, and your hands were off his shoulders. You yelped softly when you felt him push you even further into him, your chests touching each other as he made sure he held you more securely.

His hand flew to your neck, and he grabbed it roughly, and his nails dug into your skin.

"Eyes on me when I'm fucking talking to you. And don't even think about fighting back." Jungkook's eyes narrowed and darkened as he spoke right against your quivering lips.

Your heart was beating rapidly, and you felt suffocated as if the smoke from a wildfire was in the room. He found out...Jungkook found out.

"When you tried to choke me- honestly...I was surprised. But I knew you didn't have it in you. You wanna know why? It's because you're a fucking pussy, baby. You don't have the guts to kill someone."

A laugh vibrated wholeheartedly from his chest and you felt his cold hand drawing circles on your thigh. He put his lips towards your neck, taking a long inhale before he spoke again.

"You were such a good girl a couple of days ago, what happened to that good little girl who listened to me? Hm?"

You wanted to get out of his grip so bad. Your palms, slick with fear adhered to his shirt like trembling moths ensnared in the silky strands of a spider's web. Your delicate touch betrayed the intensity of your uneasiness with each shuddering breath you took.

Jungkook pulled away from you, a sudden thought coming to his mind. He stops drawing circles on your thighs, and he tilts his head slightly.

"I'm going to give you a chance to run away, okay?"

No.

"Gonna count till...thirty, and you're going to run into those woods as fast as you can."

Stop.

"If I find you..." his hands slide up on the side of your body, arms encircling around your back, "I'm gonna shove these down your pretty little throat, got it?"

Jungkook motioned to the sleeping pill container, sending a wave of goosebumps flying over you, and the hairs on your neck stood as you took a solid gulp. He leaned in, pressing his lips against yours before he pulled away. His arms loosened around your back, brushing your hair away from your face. He lowered his forehead against yours, murmuring softly.

"One."

"Two."

"Three."

For a moment, you were in a daze, lost in his eyes, captured in them. You didn't want to leave since he was probably messing around with you. You couldn't help but continue to stare at his doe eyes as your reflection glowed inside those dark eyes.

How were you so lost in them? Lost in the eyes of a man who kidnapped you, claiming he loved you. You were lost in your life, alone with no proper companion. Your life was already ruined, and you ached to be loved by someone. That's why he took you because he had a reason, and you didn't have a reason to deny it. You needed someone, and Jungkook claimed that he was the one.

He's observed you before, and you caught his eyes like a hawk once you bumped into him on your way to work. That's why he was able to snatch you on a cold Winter night, and he caught you, his prey, so easily. Why? You were lost, just lost in reality, lost in your depressive thoughts, and lost in love. You were just a poor girl lost in her delusions and wondering if your life would have been different if you had chosen the right decisions. You didn't notice him walking behind you, advancing on you before you could even utter a single scream.

It was an impulse and before you knew it your lips attached to Jungkook's moving ones. You grabbed onto his shirt, kissing him with soft movements.

Kissing him till you couldn't breathe anymore.

His hand was tangled in your hair and he pulled you closer, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. It was like Jungkook got the message, you wanted some hope, false hope to be exact. His tongue prodded at your lips before it slipped inside, and your body was growing hot as you both made out.

You almost let out a whine when he sucked and nipped on your bottom lip before he pulled away. You watched the way his chest rose and fell before a breathy laugh escaped his lips. His eyes scanned your face, and Jungkook grinned. He brought his hand to your face, wiping fresh tears off your face.

You were crying? Of course, just lost again but lost with him in an intimate moment.

He cupped your face, and his head beckoned to the door.

"Still haven't finished yet, baby, I'm close to twenty, you sure you don't wanna run now?"

You let out a quiet sniffle, getting off of him and once you left the room you sprinted down the stairs. You didn't bother to put your shoes on as you ran into the woods, your white socks already muddied. You ran and ran, and this time you noticed yourself crying. Why has your life turned into this? Why did you kiss him?

Your body shook with each step you took and each shuddering breath made you want to give up. It was completely dark, and the tall trees engulfed the entire area. There was barely any light, how were you even going to get away from him? The wind blew harshly over your face as you slowed down, stopping at a trail that seemed endless.

You wanted to laugh, but why did you even attempt to escape yesterday? Why did you even think about escaping in the first place? You know what happens, Jungkook has taught you several times but you just don't stop. Your life was shitty, your family disowned you because you were a disappointment to them. Your friends were toxic and fake, and you were alone. And you hated that.

Is that why you kissed him?

You kissed him because he was the only person who knew what your life was like, you kissed him because you were scared or maybe you kissed him because you were lost in the emotions you felt about him, and about yourself. There were moments when you were sad, and the next when you felt angry, rebellious, hopeless, irritated and lost.

Just run.

Just fucking run and stop thinking.

You're getting lost in your thoughts again, and he was going to catch you if you didn't stop now.

So you ran, and your heart was throbbing in your ears. Twigs snapped, birds cawed and for a second you thought you heard Jungkook.

You could hear another set of footsteps behind you, and the realisation dawned upon you. He's right behind you. You forced yourself to run even faster, ignoring the cuts that were plastered on your skin. You were running out of breath and your legs wobbled, they began to ache. You can't give up when you've come this far.

You can hear him getting closer to you. When you looked up straight ahead, there was a faint light that glowed uphill. A light! It could be a car, a home, or somebody. You bit your lip as you tried to go uphill, the pain in your feet grew as you stepped on sharp twigs and debris, desperately trying to climb up. You squinted your eyes to see a road, and your hope grew instantly.

You could leave, you could find someone and call for help, you could finally get away from him—

Jungkook's arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. A scream erupted from your throat, and you thrashed in his hold.

No— you were right there, you were about to escape.

A sob broke from your lips as you kicked your legs, doing anything to get out of his hold. His lips brushed over the shell of your ear, his hold on you tightening.

"Shh," his voice didn't soothe whatever you felt right now, "if you fight me back, I swear I'll make it worse for you."

The threat hung in the air, and it immediately made you stop your movements. Jungkook pushed you down to the forest floor, the wet soil coated your white dress, and this time the scratches stung even more.

"I was going to take you back, but look how far you made it. Almost made it out of here." A smirk formed on his lips as he took out the sleeping pill container.

"How does three sound?"

His words were a blur to your ears as you stared into the far distance. The light was still glowing brightly and soon a car drove by. You sobbed and your nails dug into the ground. Just a bit more time and you would've been free.

You felt the back of your head yanked up, and Jungkook's hand tugged your hair as you glared at him with furious eyes.

Jungkook whistled, smiling as he popped open the container.

"Don't look at me like that, you should have left the moment I started to count."

Your eyes fell to the water bottle next to him and that's when it hit you. Jungkook giggled at your reaction as he unscrewed the lid on the bottle.

"Came prepared because I knew my girl would get lost in these woods pretty fast, and far."

One hand gripped your jaw, and Jungkook pushed the pills inside your mouth. And he gave the bottle to you.

He wanted you to do it because he knew that you knew you lost. Your hands squeezed the bottle, and you brought it to your lips before chugging a good amount to swallow the pills.

"Did you say three?"

You asked him with a hopeless look.

"I lied," he said, watching you with a gleam on his face, "and gave you two instead because I don't want to kill you."

You wanted to laugh at that, maybe you should have just taken three. The effects soon hit you, and your eyes became sluggish, and your eyes blurred with tears. You lost your grip on the floor, and Jungkook swooped you into his arms effortlessly. His face was blurred as he was taking you back to the cabin. Just before your body shut down, right before your tears escaped and your eyes closed, Jungkook murmured to himself quietly, and a mixed feeling of hope and happiness washed over him.

"You're lost again, baby."

#Lost #jungkook smut #bts yandere #yandere jungkook #yandere!kidnapper jk #jungkook x female reader #yandere writing #yandere oneshot #yandere x reader #yandere jungkook x you #bts smut

[ddejavvu]

eddie brock my sweet boyfriend ❤️ you definitely have to teach him how to properly cook cause all he fucking eats is frozen tater tot, chicken nuggets, and takeout.

“Ok now we need to boil water for the pasta”

“How do you do that?”

“???? Eddie????”

Venom greets you at the door to Eddie's apartment before you can even knock, his teeth glinting in the low light of the hallway. You're always uneasy about him being seen, but there's not much foot traffic this far down the hallway.

"The oven is on fire," He informs you, with the same grin that he usually uses to say 'Hello, sex kitten.' He'd heard the phrase in a comedy once, and has not given it up no matter how many times you and Eddie plead with him.

"The- what?" Your similar grin fades, and you shove your way past him into the apartment.

Eddie calls from the kitchen, "The oven is not on fire!" But there's a panicked edge to his voice that you presume means the oven is, in fact, on fire.

"Eddie." You gush when you're finally granted a clear view of the kitchen. The doorway had been blocking most of the counter space, but now that you're standing inside, amidst a cloud of barely-breathable smoke, you see a charred mass inside the oven that you can't believe was once food.

"What happened?" You ask, and you wish there was more conviction in your tone, but you can't muster it. You're dumbfounded, aghast, and perhaps flabbergasted as well.

"The lasagna I planned for tonight needed to be thawed," Eddie explains, and Venom, like the traitor he is, sticks by your side, suspended from Eddie's own by a thick tendril of black goo, "And I didn't know that. I didn't have a day to leave it out on the counter, but it said to cook it at 425 for- like, an hour or something, once it was thawed. So I just-"

"Eddie," You warn, as if you can change the fate of the story by stopping him from telling you the ending.

Of course, that's not how it works.

"I put it in there at a higher temperature. For a few hours, too, because there was still ice on the top. I dunno," He scrapes a tired hand over his scruffy face, "I just thought- I thought it would work."

"It doesn't work," You note sadly, "Um- okay. Well, we can't eat that, so shove it in a trash bag and throw it away."

You watch as Eddie deals with the charred mass of lasagna, probably still frozen solid on the inside. You chance a glance into his fridge and something sickly twists at your gut when you find eggs and ketchup. That's it.

A peek into his freezer reveals frozen tater tots. Of course.

"Okay," You huff, shoving your sleeves up your forearm, "We're having breakfast for dinner, Eddie. Turn the stove on."

You place a pan onto the stovetop, intent on cracking eggs into it, but when Eddie turns a knob to heat the glass surface, he chooses the wrong one, and a burner on the other side of the stove flares to life.

"Oh, Eddie." You hum, and he looks appropriately sheepish, "Okay, just- don't touch anything, and watch me."

"I can do that," He nods, and Venom comes to hover over your shoulder.

"Are those eggs from Sonny and Cher?" He asks, and you feel slightly chastised from his scrutiny.

"Uh- yeah, Venom. They are." Eddie nods, watching you with a cautious gaze.

"You said I was not allowed to eat babies," Venom's eyes narrow, milky white and slimy, at his host, "Have babies been on-limits this whole time? How could you not tell me!"

"No! No, Venom, no eating babies," You inform the symbiote, trying to calm his rage before it has a chance to truly begin, "Eddie, while I make dinner, you lay out the ground rules for baby consumption."

"Copy that," Eddie nods, taking on Venom's indignance with a steely gaze and squared shoulders, "Only chicken babies, bud. And only if they're still in the eggshell."

Venom responds to this new information by taking the egg from your hand, crunching it whole between his teeth, shell and all. You suppose that's exactly what he was told to do. Neither you nor Eddie can stop him in time, but when the symbiote decides that raw egg is not his favorite flavor, you're both stunned into stiff silence as you're covered with the goopy, spit-up remains of the egg.

"Chicken babies are disgusting!" Venom declares, gargling water from the sink that nearly breaks beneath his heavy hand, "I would much rather eat human babies."

#eddie brock x reader #eddie brock imagine #eddie brock scenario #eddie brock oneshot #eddie brock one-shot #eddie brock one shot #eddie brock headcanon #eddie brock headcanons #eddie brock hc #eddie brock hcs #eddie brock fanfiction #eddie brock fanfic #eddie brock fic #eddie brock x you #eddie brock x y/n #eddie brock x reader fanfiction #eddie brock blurb #eddie brock drabble #eddie brock dialogue #venom x reader #venom x you #venom x y/n #venom fanfiction #venom oneshot #venom imagine #venom drabble #venom blurb

[daytaker]

Hi! I'd Like to request something for obey me. So MC is an Artist Like Semi realistic or so and then they draw the brothers and themself all together Like some Kind of Family Photo for maybe a sweet gesture to appriciat them, what would the reaction be?

First of all, that's adorable. Second of all, yes, absolutely.

Everyone

The immediate question on everyone's mind is where it should be put. The suggestions are fairly predictable. Beel wants it in the kitchen. Satan wants it in the library. Belphie wants it in the observatory. Asmo thinks it should go in his bathroom, and he acts amazed when his brothers disagree.

You'll probably be the one to suggest making some copies of it if they like it so much. That way they can all have one. The brothers all like this idea, so you head off to the Devildom equivalent of a FedEx store and make some quick copies for everybody.

Eventually, the original work will find pride of place above the fireplace, where everyone will get plenty of time to admire it, including guests. The brothers are all very proud to explain to them that they have a very close friend who's an artist, thank you, and they made that piece of artwork up there for them, for free, because they love them all so much. What do you mean it's too small for that big of a space? Clearly you don't understand art, they'll tell the guest. Satan smirks; Levi rolls his eyes; Asmo whispers something to Mammon and they both start snickering. Real mean girl energy.

Lucifer

It's proved to be more or less impossible to get a photograph with himself and all six of his brothers, so this is an immediate hit with him. Plus, you're in it, which makes it even more valuable. He wonders why he didn't commission a painted family portrait earlier. It just hadn't crossed his mind, he supposes.

He'll buy a very nice and expensive frame for the picture and have it professionally mounted on a backboard. Only a museum quality display will do.

He enjoys looking at the artwork now and then and mentally noting all the details he likes. You captured Mammon's smug smile perfectly, and somehow Levi looks happy, but still like himself. Of course, his favorite part of the picture (along with you, of course) is himself. He thinks he looks very dignified, and he appreciates that you placed him in the center; the true patriarch of the family. Besides that (though he wouldn't bring it up unprompted), he thinks you made him look very handsome, and he likes the idea that you see him that way.

Mammon

You put him next to you?! I mean, of course you did! He's your number one demon, right? Obviously he belongs right next to you! He'll point out his positioning in the picture to his brothers often enough that they've gotten past feeling annoyed about it and just tease him for simping so openly.

He thinks it looks a little bit like you're smiling at him in the picture. You're not. You're staring into the 'camera', just like everyone else. But he tells himself that. He has another copy of the picture made where he cropped out everyone besides the two of you. He keeps it in his sock drawer so he can pull it out when he's by himself and admire it. Lucifer has walked in on him lying on his back and holding it up, staring wistfully at the picture, often enough that he can tell by how quiet it is when Mammon is either sleeping or staring at that goddamn picture of his again.

Speaking of extra copies, he also made some more to try and sell at RAD, but, shockingly, cheap copies of a picture of someone else's family didn't sell well. Diavolo bought one though, as did Simeon. Yeah, maybe it wasn't exactly ethical to try and capitalize on your artwork, but, well, come on, he's in it, and you gave it to him, so that kind of makes him the owner of it, right...?

Leviathan

He's pretty sure he's not breathing right now. That's... That's how he looks? To you? He looks....amazing....!! Look at his smile! His jawline! His glossy hair! His cheeks, touched with color---!!! You must think he's... like....... Ugh, it's stupid, like, who even cares? Nobody, that's who. Nobody except him. He cares. And he wishes his stomach would settle down a little bit before lunch explodes onto the rug. So he'll just take his copy of the painting, clutch it to his chest, and giggle to himself as he slinks off to his room while everyone else stands admiring the painting on the mantlepiece.

Now, to really study this thing. He lies in his bathtub and squints at the painting. He realizes, to his dismay, that all his brothers look extra hot in this thing too. Hrmm... But, whatever! The important part is that he looks amazing! His eyes are shining, his skin looks healthy and smooth, and.... well.... he doesn't look like somebody it'd be weird for you to be into, maybe. Maybe? Possibly.

He's pretty shy around you for a few days after you give them all the picture. He's not really sure how he's supposed to react around someone who thinks he's... h....ha-ha....handsome...???? And not just that, but the look on his face! Does he make faces like that in real life? Does he make faces like that in front of you?

He spends a good chunk of time in front of the mirror trying to imitate the look from the painting, but he can't quite get it right. He always ends up crumbling into a pathetic, groaning, blushing little creep and fleeing the bathroom. He hates himself. But he can cheer himself up with the knowledge that you definitely don't hate him, right? How could you draw someone you hated looking like... like....?!?

Satan

Knowing Satan is someone who admires art in general, you were most nervous about him seeing it. He has a tendency to be fairly blunt and honest, and you really hoped he'd just appreciate the thought behind the picture without subjecting it to any kind of critical analysis.

But of course he did it anyway. He'd expressed his appreciation just like his brothers had when you first gave it to them, but you'd often see him standing in front of the fireplace staring up at the picture with a hand to his chin after that.

Satan's initial thought, after the excitement over the gift and how cute and nervous you looked giving it to them all, is that the composition of the piece, while not particularly original, has definite visual appeal. While he doesn't particularly enjoy Lucifer's position in the middle, he understands why you put him there, both artistically and psychologically. Lucifer dominates almost any group he's in with his annoyingly hefty self-confidence. His ego is smeared all over the picture, but that's not your fault. That's just Lucifer, being awful and ruining things, like he always does.

When he finally gives some attention to how he looks in the painting, he's pleasantly surprised. He looks refreshingly like himself, but also like he's meant to be there, with everybody else. He can also tell you spent some time on his eyes. They look lovely. If you ever want to paint them again, he'd be happy to model for you. What, shy all of a sudden?

Asmodeus

Well, obviously he's the real star of the artwork. It's as if he's glowing, washing out his brothers with his effervescent presence on the canvas! Clearly, you know your art. Never mind he's the only one who seems to quite see the picture in that way.

He has his copy of the painting framed and hung up in his bathroom, where he thought the original should have been put all along. Now he never feels like he's alone in the tub! Every once in a while, he'll talk to the artwork while he takes a bath. Just to amuse himself. But when you go back to the human world, 'every once in a while' becomes 'almost every day'.

He has a theory that if someone stares into the eyes of Painting Asmo too deeply for too long, they'll fall in love with him. The painting version of him, that is. He knows that's silly, so he keeps it to himself, but he can't stop himself from imagining you mesmerized by your own painting of him, bewitched by the very eyes you painted...

Beel

Honestly, Beel is just happy you made a picture including him, his brothers, and you. You put him right beside Belphie with an arm slung around his shoulders. He's smiling more in the picture than he normally does in real life, but that doesn't bother him at all. He wants to look happy in this kind of painting.

He taped his copy of the picture to the refrigerator door. Everyone appreciates this, not just Beel, though he definitely sees it the most often. After you go home, he says good morning to you every day when he first heads to the fridge. It's a nice way to feel like you're still around.

Belphie

Wow... He looks adorable here. And you didn't include him drooling like his brothers always do when they draw him. Though it really isn't fair to compare this to the "drawings" his brothers have made to make fun of each other. Idiots...

You put him right next to Beel. That makes him smile. And he looks...like he's happy to be there. Maybe not grinning like a doofus, but like this is his family, and he's pretty okay with it.

He keeps his copy of the picture taped to his bedpost so he can look at it whenever he feels lonely, especially after your year in the Devildom comes to an end.

#ask response #anon #obey me #obey me swd #obey me headcanons #obey me mc #obey me artist mc #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me demon brothers #om lucifer #om mammon #om! leviathan #om satan #omswd #dthc #text post

[chubsonthemoon]

Last Binderary book is DONE!!!! This is the incredible Maybe sprout wings, by @moorishflower.

This post is going to be a doozy, so gonna just skip straight to the cut!

INTERIOR

INTRODUCTION

I really wanted to model this bind after my own copy of the Odyssey, (which is all highlighted and bookmarked and annotated to hell from my Great Text courses in undergrad ehe, so this bind was such a fun trip down memory lane!). But beyond just the cover/general aesthetic, I also wanted to give the book a similar feel to these kinds of editions of classics--there's usually an introduction, translation notes, and other supplementary materials, right? Like, a physical manifestation of the work of many, many people, all having conversations with one another across time and space.

So that's what I did! I wrote a short introduction (I will also probably post it to my AO3/my blog as well, in the name of preservation etc. etc.) and began reaching out to folks in the fandom who I knew had created art and meta for the fic. The result? 18k words of analysis, comments, and meta, and nearly twenty pages of art!

And this is what I love most about this bind, I think! This book is the work of several people--truly a collaborative work by the fandom--all of whom I will now be shamelessly calling out below :D

CHAPTER HEADER ART

First and foremost, this book would not be what it is without the gorgeous header art by @fancy-rock-dove! Thank you so much Dove for letting include your work, and for being so supportive and kind these past few weeks about this bind <3 You in particular have contributed so much to this book (which I will be getting more into in the next section ehe), and I'm so psyched I get to hold your art and words, too!

NOTES ON THE TEXT

This section was divided into four parts: Asks and Answers, Meta, Selected Comments, and Chapter Heading Art: Process

For Asks and Answers, I trawled Heather's blog for meta she had written in response to questions and other meta about the fic. Asks came from @fancy-rock-dove, @quillingwords, @kulapti, and myself! (I THINK I got all of them--tumblr's search function is finnicky even on its best days, so so sorry if I missed something T_T) I first got hooked into reading this fic because of one of these asks, so I'm very fond of this section in particular :D

For Meta, I included two wonderful essays written by @pastrypuppy (also known as @kulapti) about Hob as an author figure and the Disrupted Fisher King narrative in MSW. Her analyses were so fascinating and I just had to include them in the book! (And thank you as well for your permission, friend!) (also hello fellow Renegade comrade 🫡)

For Selected Comments, I owe everything to (once again :3) @fancy-rock-dove, whose insights are the epitome of transformative fandom at work. I'd look for their comments after I read every chapter to see what their takes were on this or that element of the story, and every single time I would go "!!!!! I didn't even realize!!!" or "OOOOOOOH I hadn't thought of that!!" It was like being in a lecture hall and always whipping your head around when one of your classmates raised their hand, because you knew they were going to say something fascinating that you hadn't considered before.

Aside from one of my own comments, Dove's comments make up the entirety of this section (for which I owe you my life--your long-form responses to fics are a gift to this world) but GOSH was it also so much fun going through the comments section while typesetting and seeing all the keyboard smashing, yelling, and crying from the other commenters. Communal nature of storytelling and ongoing meaning-making of fanfiction, babey!

And finally for Chapter Heading Art: Process: once again Dove coming in clutch with some wonderful insights into the design of each of the chapter heading art pieces! This kind of stuff is honestly my favorite: meta about art for a fic which is, in turn, a transformation of an existing story (not even to mention that The Sandman is its own kind of fanfiction of existing mythologies and histories)--I just!! Think it's all really, really neat :'D (for more coherent/polished thoughts on this pls see my introduction asjdfkls)

ART

The art gallery!!! A million thanks to @fishfingersandscarves, @honeyseller, @jazzpsych, @doctor-rainbowfoxey, and (HI AGAIN DOVE) @fancy-rock-dove for granting me permission to include all of your beautiful pieces!

As usual for artworks in my binds, I printed each piece out on specialty photo paper to really make the colors pop, then sewed each page separately to the text block! Behold, everyone's beautiful beautiful pieces!

The art gallery also satisfies the certain "oooh shiny" part of my brain that always activates when I see pictures in a book, so am also very fond of this section :3

CONSTRUCTION

And now on to the nitty gritty stuff! I used the German Bradel binding technique again, my second time using it. Even though it's more complicated than the case bind, I really love how it gives you the full board space for the cover designs (~it's free real estate~). Keep it a secret but I kiiiiiiind of made a small goof in the last few steps (I did the turn-ins a step too early and so had to paste an extra sheet of cardstock to secure the spine to the boards, whoopsie), but it's a pretty small difference, aesthetically speaking, so it wasn't the end of the world XD

Edges are once again fake gilded, but this time I tried something new with the colors! I did two layers of acrylic paint--one watered down shade of red for the base, then one metallic gold on top of that. I really like the red/gold effect! I'll have to keep experimenting with this kind of layering:

ALSO. Y'ALL! I think I'm finally getting the hang of endbands!!! Many thanks to the folks at Renegade who hosted all the endband workshops last month--I'm still working through them, but even the few sessions I've seen have been TREMENDOUSLY helpful. I learned that tension is Very Important, as well as thread thickness, so I tried doubling my thread and keeping a Very Close Eye on how I was holding the threads while doing the beads. And behold! I still have a ways to go (and one day I would LOVE to do the fancier designs), but I'm v happy with the progress I've made so far!

And finally the covers!! ARCHIVAL MOD PODGE MY BELOVED. I printed on the same matte presentation paper that I used for the art, then did several coats of archival matte mod podge + a pass of gloss mod podge over the title strip to make it ~shiny~. Then once those had dried and I'd adhered them to the boards, I sprayed two layers of matte clear acrylic sealer (also mod podge!) to finish it off. I had some issues with the paper tearing when I handled it before it was fully dry, but luckily the blemishes were small enough that it was easy to do spot corrections with my black acrylic paint. And now I know to be more patient next time LOL

(some non-photoshoot shots that show the shine a little better!)

FINAL THOUGHTS

I had a lot of thoughts while I was binding this book--about Sandman fandom, about Dreamling fandom, about the Odyssey, about storytelling, about fanbinding, about Binderary, about Renegade, about my friends--but really what came to mind the most was gratitude!

Simply put, I'm so grateful to everyone I've met both in this fandom and throughout the years I've been active online--this is SO fun, y'all. It's so much fun to love stories together--to talk about them, to write them, and of course to bind them! I hope I've adequately conveyed that gratitude.

But of course, this book would not exist without the wonderful words of @moorishflower. Heather, thank you so, SO much for sharing your stories, thoughts, and time with us--it is always a happier, better day when I get an email notif from you and when I see you on my dash. I love your work so much, and I'm so happy I finally get to put it on my shelf! So thank you so much again, for everything <3

and OKAY THAT'S IT FROM ME FOLKS!!!!! Binderary 2023 is officially a wrap! I had SUCH a blast--will probably write up a reflection post on it uhhhh after I take a very long nap ajslkdfjslk _(:3」∠)_

all my love! <3

#the sandman #dreamling #Moorishflower #Maybe sprout wings #binderary2023 #bookbinding #fanbinding #ficbinding #not my fic

[intoanotherworld23]

Pick Your Battles

Pairing: Reader x Bradley Bradshaw

Warnings: None

Summary: Bradley broke your heart when he accused you of betraying him, and you haven’t seen or spoken to him since. Until you are both called back to Top Gun to help with a dangerous mission that nobody’s ever attempted before

I do not own the rights to these characters or any part of the movie this is simply for entertainment. I hope you guys enjoy this first part, and let me know what you guys think so far!! If you wish to be added to a tag list please don’t hesitate to ask and I’ll be more than happy to add you! Heart it! Reblog it! Enjoy it! XOXO

✨Please do not copy and paste or steal my work or take credit for this without my permission or you will be reported✨

Part 2

It's been too long since you've seen Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw and the thought of his reaction terrified you. Not knowing how he would feel about you returning to Fightertown. Once you got the letter asking you to return you knew without a doubt Bradley would be there. The two of you didn't end things well the last time you saw each other.

Telling him how you felt and his response was not at all what you thought. He suddenly became angry and upset with you. Slamming the door on the way out as you fell on the couch crying your eyes out. Everyone was worried about you after that, but nobody dared to bring his name up to you.

You've known Bradley since you guys were children. After all you were the daughter of Tom Kazansky aka 'Iceman'. Taking after him and becoming top of your class in Top Gun. Earning the call sign of 'Frostbite'. Also, becoming the only female pilot to have three confirmed air to air strike kills. Your father was a legend amongst pilots and you were becoming one now too.

After you and Bradley graduated it seemed like you two became a lot closer. Everyone could see it except for the two of you, until one day Bradley got upset you went on a date with some other guy. Seeing that side of him had you wanting him closer, and into your arms.

It confused you beyond all doubt since you two were just friends, but then it made you realize your true feelings for him. That's when you decided to confess how you felt about him, after a bottle of wine of course.

Now here you were sitting at the bar of the Hard Deck constantly looking back to seeing when he would come in. Sipping on your beer as you nervously looked around at all different kinds of colors laughing and playing pool or shooting darts.

Wondering if these were the pilots you would be training for this mission. Turning down their offer of leading this mission ever since the accident, and settling for being an instructor instead. Your father was not happy about your choice but understood why you did it. Not wanting to lead another mission where someone else dies.

"You okay hon?" Pennys sweet voice asked when she noticed you staring off into space.

"Oh yeah I'm just thinking." Snapping out of it to look at her. "Obviously too hard huh?"

"He's going to be glad to see you." She knew exactly what and who you were thinking about.

"Yeah right he'll walk through that door and see me and walk right out." Groaning at the image and feeling yourself become saddened at the thought.

"No he won't I bet you he'll see you and have that big smile on his face and give you a big Rooster hug." She smiled at you with reassurance making your lips quirk up. "He cares about you."

"Not enough to reach out to me." Shaking your head as you finished the rest of your drink.

"You could have done the same for him." Raising her eyebrows at you with that look of 'it works both ways'. "You two just need to talk."

Not saying anything you just looked at her watching as she went to go help other patrons. Trying to repeat her words in your head that he missed you just as much as you missed him. Although it would be hard for him to forget you confessing your feelings to him. You just don't let something like that be forgotten.

In the deep part of your mind you couldn't help but think he still was upset and would want nothing to do with you. Then the two of you would have to work on this mission ignoring each other, and acting like enemies.

"Y/N?" Instantly recognizing that voice making you turn around and break from your thoughts.

"Uncle Maverick." Exclaiming as you hopped off the stool to give him a hug. "It's so good to see you."

You've known Pete Mitchell ever since you were little, and he was also your Godfather. He was like family to you and whenever you couldn't go to your father you would go to him. He was proud of you when you graduated from Top Gun, reminded him of being with your father.

Of course you knew of the feud between him and Bradley, but you didn't actually know what it was about. All you know is Maverick did something so badly that he wanted nothing to do with him. Then one day Bradley called you screaming if you knew something about his papers being pulled which of course you didn't, but he didn't believe you and continued to yell at you.

It seems like Bradley will have not only one person he can't stand here.

"It's good to see you too." Pulling back so he could sit next to you waving at Penny a blush on her cheek. "How are you?"

"I'm good I'm good." Nodding your head as you looked at your hands on the bar top. It was a lie. "How about you?"

"Well I can't complain." He gave you a nudge making you playfully roll your eyes with a smile. "I'm assuming you got a letter as well."

"Yeah I did and I was asked to be the lead in it." Once he heard that his eyes went wide a huge smile on his face like a proud father.

"Well shit congratulations I'm happy of you." Clapping a hand on your back your face remained stoic.

"I turned it down." Stating to him before he could get anything else out. "I told them I wouldn't lead this mission."

"Why would you do that?" He asked too quickly and saw the look on your face before nodding. "I get it."

Only a few people knew about the accident including Pete, since your father didn't want it to be a public thing which you were kind of thankful for. Seeing as it traumatized you, and never wanting to ever relive that moment again. Not that you were trying to sweep it under the rug you just didn't want someone reminding you of that day.

All of a sudden you heard a bell ringing and both you and Maverick looked up in confusion. Penny standing there with a huge grin on her face as everyone whooped and hollered in joy. She pointed to a sign that said 'disrespect a woman or a pilot or place your phone on the bar top and you pay for a round'.

Looking down you saw Pete's phone on the bar top making your bend your head back in laughter. He just chuckled with a shake of his head as Penny was then bombarded with men and women at the bar.

"Way to go Uncle Mav." Patting him on the back as you continued to laugh. "I'll have another one Penny."

Handing you a bottle you saw a blonde haired man with thick arms in a khaki uniform that you very much recognized walk you up to the bar. His eyes looking at Pete and then shifted over to you a small smirk on his face.

"Four beers Penny please." Looking over to Pete briefly before grabbing his drinks handing them over.

"There ya go." Giving her wonderful smile the mans gaze still lingering on you.

"Thanks hon." He then looked back to Pete. "Thanks for the drinks pops." Giving a wink before he turned around walking back to the other pilots.

"I'll be right back." Hopping off the stool as you headed to the restroom glancing over at the blonde man to see his eyes on you.

The other three guys he was with all looked over to what he was looking at. You hated when people stared at you like that even if they didn't know who you were. Just wanting to keep your last name from being revealed to anybody for as long as possible.

Looking away you went into the bathroom stepping in front of the mirror placing your hands on either side of the sink. Staring at yourself asking yourself if you could really do this.

Could you handle the pressure of this mission? Could you handle being around someone that you love who doesn't feel the same? Starting to doubt yourself even more now, but reminding yourself of Penny's words.

Splashing cold water on your neck you gathered yourself quickly before heading out the door. Glancing around you noticed that name blonde haired man now standing in front of you. His eyes glanced you up and down taking in your torn jeans and white tank top.

"Hi there darlin." He said twirling a toothpick between his white teeth. "What's your name?"

Ah he clearly didn't recognize you and had no idea who you are then. Maybe you could have some fun with this.

"My names Y/N." His hand lifted up to grab yours in a shake you didn't bother to give him your last name since it would give away too much.

"The names Jake Seresin." Stating with such pride it almost made you roll your eyes. "Call sign Hangman."

"Hangman?" Repeating with a confused look on your face but he just smiled.

"You ever meet a pilot in person?" Shaking your head playing the stupid girl he probably thought you were.

"Well todays your lucky day sweetheart." He stepped closer to you this time. "I happen to be the best pilot there is."

This guy needed an ego check or something surprised his head hasn't exploded yet from thinking too highly of himself. Never the less you decided to go along with whatever game he was playing.

"Is that so?" Asking him crossing your arms over your chest his eyes glancing down briefly before smiling at you.

"Come join me and my fellow pilots." Placing his hand on your back leading you over to a group of khaki uniformed pilots playing pool.

"Guys this here is Y/N." He introduced you making everyone's eyes gaze over to you.

"Hi." Squeaking out like you were some shy little girl feeling utterly stupid.

"This is Coyote, Payback, Fanboy, Phoenix and Bob." Pointing to everyone each of them giving you a wave or smile.

These were probably all the pilots that you were going to help train on this mission. It absolutely terrified you how many lives you were potentially holding in your hands. A part of you feeling bad for not voicing who you actually were, but you didn't want the looks and questions who knew they would ask.

"Still bothering innocent women I see?" The girl Phoenix spoke up making everyone laugh.

"Couldn't help myself Phoenix." Pulling you closer to him making you a little bit uncomfortable. "She's a beautiful woman."

"Which doesn't make sense as to how you got her?" Fanboy joined in everyone nodding their heads in agreement.

"Yeah she doesn't know who you really are." Phoenix responded as she looked at you.

"Judging by the call sign I think I know everything I need to." Your voice ringing out making the others look at you with wide grins and laughter.

"Ouch darlin you hurt me." Placing a hand over his heart acting fake wounded.

"Besides I only go for real talented pilots." Your words had everyone's mouth wide open hollering.

Typically you were as tough as nails and always spoke your mind. In order to keep up this charade of being a normal person you kept your real personality down a few notches. Just wait until the next morning when they would see you, and you just couldn't wait for their reactions.

"I like her." Phoenix said and everyone nodded in agreement making you smile.

"Are you a pilot or?" Coyote asked once everyone quieted down.

Before you could respond your gaze wondered over to the front door watching as a couple people walked in. The person in front who you immediately recognized as Bradley. Wearing an old Hawaiian shirt with a white tank and faded blue jeans. A pair of aviators shielding you from his eyes.

He was a lot bigger the last time you saw him, and certainly looked better looking than the last time. Feeling yourself starting to drool as you looked him feeling like a creep for just staring at him. Thankfully he didn't even see you otherwise you would have been incredible embarrassed.

Something that was definitely different about him was the mustache he was rockin. He definitely didn't have that the last time you saw him, and you gotta admit he looked really good wearing it. He looked just like his dad which made you smile at the thought.

The butterflies in your stomach had you feel lightheaded and flustered. Your full attention was on him watching as he greeted a couple people before his gaze turned over to your group. Feeling your nerves get the better of you you tried shielding yourself from his view.

Not wanting to be seen as you saw him walking towards your group. He still hadn't seen you yet which you were thankful for. Maybe you could sneak away without being seen, and you could avoid the awkward conversation.

Shielding your face by Jake's side when he was literally just a few feet from you talking to the other pilots. Hearing his voice had your heart fluttering and you wanted nothing more than to say something and run into his arms.

"Bradshaw." Hangman greeted with a smirk making Bradley look over in your direction. "As I live in breathe."

"Hangman." He responded back with slight tone animosity making it known the two didn't exactly like each other. "You look... good."

"Oh I'm good I'm very good." His cocky tone was really starting to get to you feeling an arm wrap around your waist.

Quickly glancing your eyes over without moving your head watching him as he leaned against a pole placing his hands in front of him.

"Thought they wanted the best of the best." Bradley shot back at him making you smile into Jake's arm.

The pair just stared at each other like there was a silent war going on between them. The group looked between the two waiting for someone to speak first. Things were becoming too much for you and you just wanted to get out of there. Until you felt someone staring at you.

"Whose your victim tonight?" His words had your stomach drop feeling dread take over your body.

"This gorgeous girl is Y/N." Holding you to his side like you were some sort of prize. "She's never met a pilot in real life."

Keeping your face hidden hoping he wouldn't recognize you or act like he didn't know who you were. Glancing over you made immediate eye contact with him and you watched his lip twitch instantly recognizing you. His eyes looking to Hangman's arm around your waist making his hand ball into a fist.

You were still just as beautiful since he saw you last. Beating himself up for how he left things with you, and not telling you how he felt. Once he was told his papers were pulled he accused you of knowing and not saying anything to stop it to which he felt betrayed.

"Really?" He asked not taking his eyes off you his jaw clenching for multiple reasons.

"Figured if she were to meet a pilot it should be the best there is." He said cockily making your roll your eyes this time.

"But you aren't the best pilot." Bradley responded back making you and others chuckle. "She is."

Your eyes went wide not knowing who he was talking about maybe hoping he was talking about the other woman Phoenix instead. That wasn't the case though when you were completely unaware that he was pointing to you. Slowly moving your head to look at him his eyes solely on you.

He had this look on his face that would couldn't make out. Until you saw that look in his eye that told you he was about to blow your cover. Please Bradley don't you mouthed to him, and he just smirked.

"Yeah right and I'm Superman." Hangman joked not noticing how you were now frozen in place.

"God your such an idiot Hangman." At first you didn't know who he was talking to. "You clearly don't know who this is do you?"

Feeling everyone look over at you as you continued to stare at him shaking your head at him begging him not to tell. Judging by the look on his face you knew what he was about to do to you.

Your breathing was becoming very heavy and shallow. The air in your lungs was becoming restricted and you could feel your palms sweating waiting for him to spill the beans. The glancing from you to Bradley waiting in anticipation.

"What are you talking about?" Phoenix spoke up as Jake continued to stare at him a confused look on his face.

"Who is she?" Someone else said but you didn't know who.

"Your little date over there is a pilot herself." Jake snapped his head down to look at you an angry look on your face.

"Her names Y/N Kazansky daughter of Tom 'Iceman' Kazansky." Soon as they heard your last name some of them gasped or their eyes went wide in shock. "Call sign 'Frostbite."

"Holy shit." Hearing someone say as you now felt all eyes on you, but your focus was on the man with the mustache glaring at him feeling like steam was coming off your body.

"You two know each other then?" Bob asked really speaking for the first time that night.

"Unfortunately." His words had you wincing and your heart slowly breaking at how horribly he was treating you.

Once Bradley saw your reaction he felt bad but he couldn't take them back. A part of him wanted to walk up to you and hold you and tell you he was sorry he knew it wouldn't fix everything. Even though the group was going to find out eventually you wanted it to be on your terms, and not through Bradley who did it out of spite and possibly hatred.

Before anyone else could say anything you tore yourself away from the group, and practically zoomed out of there. Feeling a tear running down your cheek Penny watching with concern making Maverick turn around to look as well.

One things for sure that you know now. Bradley Bradshaw hates you.

——————————————

Tag list for Miles Teller/Bradley Bradshaw: @mak-32 @florencediet @maverick-wingman @khaylin27 @angeeeelinx @allie131313 @phantomxoxo @katieshook02 @alanadetigy @bradleysgirl @acesofspadess @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @classyunknownlover @o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o @roosterforme @mushy-mushroom04 @rosiahills22 @pedrohoe04 @fandom-life-12 @noz4a2 @rossylightwood @itsdesiree86 @topgunbb @sexytholland @spaceygirly1 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @abaker74 @tallrock35 @ondina-granger @blackcatdhisgf @dreaminglandsworld @bangsterz @k-k0129 @roosterschanelslut @ishipit1420 @atarmychick007 @artemissunn @michaelaandthediamonds-blog @adoringsebstan @sydneejean @igotmajordaddyissues @m-rae23 @alana4610 @calsjack

Tag list for everything: @iam-laiya @rosie-posie08 @madzleigh01 @alwaysclassyeagle @mytbel0st @shanimallina87 @marvelstarker-mha98

#miles teller #miles teller smut #miles teller x reader #miles teller fanfiction #miles teller series #Bradley bradshaw #Bradley bradshaw smut #Bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #Bradley bradshaw series

[xoxo-sarah]

ugh daryl or rick x reader but the reader is reading shy and they yell at the reader and the reader cries 😣😣 but comfort and stuff

Bunny

↝a/n: not really sure if this lives up to your expectations, but this is the first time I've written for TWD openly.

↝pairing: platonic!Daryl Dixon x reader

↝ Warning: reader getting yelled at, mention of Carl's death, reader's nickname is Bunny (platonically!), not proofread

↝⎙ 4.30.23

You were walking behind Daryl, talking his ear off about the comic you had found in an old, broken down store. You hadn't really realized how much you were talking and who you were talking to. Carl used to listen to you ramble on and on about the comics, but he saw where you came from. Daryl had never been one for them. A squirrel crawling up a tree caught his attention. He brought his bow up, aiming until you went through one of your fits, your voice going up an octave as you got excited. The squirrel scurried off.

Daryl had swung around, glaring at you through his eyelids. "Do ya ever shut up? There just went our dinner because you can't be quiet about a stupid comic book!" He had never raised his voice at you. Sure, you've seen him angry, but it was never directed towards you. He saw you as his own, never wanting to hurt you.

"Bunny,"

"Fuck you." Any trace of a tear was gone, replaced by a straight face. You walked right past him, in the direction that the squirrel had gone off to.

He went after you, kicking himself. He knew you hated getting yelled at. It was like an off switch for you. All excitement had been drained from your eyes.

He waited, giving you space, where you weren't in his line of sight, but he could track where you went, seeing your footprints in the dirt.

As he was walking, he stared at the ground until your shoes were in front of his. He looked up, seeing you holding the dead squirrel by its back legs. "Here's dinner, asshole." He caught the squirrel as you threw it.

Daryl watched your face as you looked deep into the flames of the small campfire he had made to cook the meat of the squirrel and keep you warm in the Autumn night air.

"Bunny, look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at ya. I just hadn't found any food for ya and when I did, it ran away."

Daryl has never been one to apologize, but always been one to grumble and mumble back. But he couldn't just let you off thinking he wasn't sorry. He wouldn't be able to live if something were to happen to you and you ended up thinking he wasn't sorry. He'd blame himself for yet another death.

"Whatever."

"Don't do that." It's the teen angst, he had to remind himself. Carl went through it, he knew. "Don't 'whatever' me, damnit." There wasn't any fire behind the curse, he almost sounded desperate for you to know he didn't mean it. He felt it was his fatherly duty to keep you alive, feed you.

"It's okay, Daryl, really. I get it." Your facade disappeared, along with your posture. Your body folded in on itself, knees to your chest. "I just don't have anyone to talk to about them, anymore, ya know."

After Carl died, it was as if your world crumbled. He was like a big brother to you, and now he is gone.

You felt arms around you, bringing you into a hug. The warmth around you was comforting but it was new. He had never hugged you before. It was a fatherly hug, one he wished would take all the negative thoughts away; one to fix everything that has ever gone wrong. "Well this is a first."

He pulled back slightly, halfheartedly glaring at you as he grumbled. "Not a word to anybody, got it?"

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [!I don't give permission!]

#twd #twd angst #platonic!daryl dixion #platonic!reader x daryl Dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfic #twd imagine #twd imagines #daryl x reader #twd x reader #twd daryl #daryl dixon #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine #platonic!daryl #🐿️ #xoxo-sarah 🩷

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Lost and Found ♧ | 3.

Leon S. Kennedy x reader (ft. Ashford Graham)

《A/N》: FINALLY THE LAST PART!! I really like how this one turned out. You can definitely tell that my writing has improved if you look at the first parts lol. I do plan on remastering parts 1 & 2 just to clean every up a little! Enjoy <3

~ Fi 🐝

《Warnings》: mild panic attack, PTSD, mentions of Raccoon City, R and Leon being huge fucking geeks/nerds (I love them) LADY the bernese mountain doggy <33 + Dot, the convenience store cashier.

《Word count》: 5.9k

Part 1 ♧ Part 2 ♧

This series is a quick read with only a little over 10k words in total :)

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

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The little bar hangout you had with Leon lifted your spirits beyond expectations. It had felt so good to see him again, not within your stressful line of work or distant and painful memories, but in normal surroundings, just like it used to be.

Despite the high emotional tension that lingered after you'd returned his police badge to him, the night lightened the heavy weight that rested on your soul, making it that much easier to get out of bed in the morning.

You'd now left your little apartment on more occasions, not only when you had to. When taking Lady out for her walks, you'd stop by a local Cafe and enjoy a warm drink or frequent the little antique shop that had always caught your eye. It felt like a fresh breath of air, a new start to a life you didn't think you'd be capable of having.

It's not like everything was magically fixed, not even Leon had such power, but things were better. And right now, better was more than enough for you. Certain things changed in your living space as well.

You'd open a curtain or two, and finally put up the new mirror you bought. Even things as little as letting the sun into your living room had improved your overall well being.

And there was someone that was ecstatic that you were doing better. Lady had really been your lifeline the past few years. She gave you a reason to keep going, to not give up and maybe even let the small flame of hope in your heart burn without extinguishing it immediately. She was your best friend, really, always keeping you company and distracting you if you ever got lost in your head.

She'd always be there if you woke up from a bad nightmare, by your side in the blink of an eye. Lady would whine and nudge at you with her nose or lick your cheeks that were tear stained from yet another excruciating replay of that night. She'd cuddle close to you and lay her head on your chest, something that helped you steady your frantic breaths.

In return, you did everything in your power to make her life as best as you could. She deserved that and so much more in your eyes. Dogs really were a blessing.

"I don't know when he's getting here, Deedee. I'm sorry." You cooed at your wiggly pup. She'd pace around the living room and sit in front of your door with her beloved stuffie tucked between her teeth. Lady looked back at you with big eyes and whined, though the wagging of her tail never stopped.

"C'mere. Come on." You softly called for her, patting the spot next to you on the couch. Lady trotted over, the quiet 'pat pat' of her paws on the floor accompanying her until she reached you and jumped onto the sofa. She laid her head in your lap and looked up at you expectantly.

"You're excited, huh? S'not often we get visitors. We'll just have to wait a little bit longer, okay-"

You were cut off by the sound of your doorbell. Lady perked up and let out a hearty bark before she was sprinting to the door.

"Alright, alright, calm down, sweet girl." You chuckled, leaving your cozy spot on the couch and taking a peak through the peephole. A smile etched onto your face when you spotted that familiar head of blonde hair and those lovely blue eyes. He was swaying slightly, hands in his pockets. He looked quite nervous. It cut into your heart just a little, knowing that the comfortable atmosphere that you two had around you was gone after everything that had happened.

To an extent, you were basically strangers, and you needed to start from scratch, building a new friendship. Both of you have changed, to no surprise, so what was, will never be again, though you were certain that you still fit together like you used to. Or at least that was what the ever growing sprout of hope inside you told you.

"Leon." You smiled gently when you opened the door, being met with a kind smile of his own.

"Hi." He replied softly, pulling you into a hug. You melted into eachother, craving that familiar and comfortable touch. "I missed you." He mumbled, followed by a relieved sigh.

"I missed you too, blondie," you giggled softly,

"has work been hard on you lately?"

Leon chuckled as he pulled away, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"How do you always know?" You gave him a nonchalant shrug with a small grin before stepping aside, beckoning him into your home. Lady was sitting by your feet with her tongue out and a wagging tail, waiting to finally meet this guest you'd been talking about for weeks. There was a smile on his face as he stepped onto your doormat and knelt down, holding his hand out for your pup to sniff.

"Hi there, Lady. I'm Leon." He spoke softly as you watched in awe, your heart beating faster at his gentleness. Leon's gentleness was nothing new to you, but you've missed it after Raccoon City. You craved it, that soft and warm tone that never failed to make any worries fade away.

Seeing him being so soft with your dog was a bittersweet sting in your chest when you realized you wanted him to be that gentle with you again. Lady nudge her wet nose against his palm a few times before the wagging of her tail picked up, gentle drumming against your leg, before she surged forward and whined, excitedly sticking her face wherever she could.

Leon shifted his weight backwards a little so Lady wouldn't tackle him and he laughed and cooed at her, petting her face and scratching behind her ears.

"Such a sweet girl, huh? Who's a good girl? You've been keeping her safe and happy for me?" He leaned in closer for the last phrase, as if telling her a secret and he chuckled when he was met with a series of barks and huffs.

"She's absolutely infatuated with you." You smirked, your arms crossing in front of your chest. 'And so am I' you tried not to entertain the thought for too long, but every refusal you made about loving Leon, really loving Leon, slowly drifted away, letting your shoulders slightly slack and just feel the warmth of your love for him in your heart.

So what if you were in love with him? It wasn't hard to fall for him, but instead of tripping and stumbling forward a little, you fell off the highest mountain peak and landed straight on your face. But who could blame you, with that cute smile, those ocean blue eyes and a heart so pure it hurt. You'd think about it more later, maybe talk to Ashley about it, too. Right now, you wanted to keep the promise you made in the bar and enjoy an evening with your best friend. A measly attempt to feel normal again. To forget all the things you've seen, to feel whole again.

There always was a lingering darkness that shuddered through you, and it only seemed to be bearable when you were with Leon. You imagined what it would be like to live with him and Lady, to share a bed and wake up every morning with him, with that lingering cloud of gloom getting smaller day by day.

The sound of Leon's voice slammed that drawer of dreams and fantasies shut and snapped you back into the moment. He softly called your name, a worried crease between his brows. "Hey, are you alright?"

"Yeah, sorry, I just kinda... space out sometimes." You chuckled awkwardly. He cracked a small smile. "I get that. You're not alone." He said quietly, placing a firm hand on your shoulder while his other was scratching your pup's head.

Lady was whining quietly, her stuffed toy hanging from her mouth, upset at the lack of attention she was getting from Leon.

"Neither are you." You spoke gently, but with a sincere firmness. Leon's hand slid down your arm until it reached the faint scar on your forearm. He took your arm into his hands and drew circles into the skin surrounding your scar.

The gesture made the butterflies in your stomach flutter uncontrollably and you cursed them in your mind for making your cheeks heat up.

"How's your arm, hm?"

"It's good, all healed. It doesn't hurt, it's just... hard to look at some days." You gave him a tight lipped smile.

"Scars make you a survivor. You made it out of that shithole with your life, and that's one hell of a thing to do."

"I hope you talk that kindly to yourself, too."

Leon's head tipped forward slightly, exhaling sharply before swinging one of his arms over your shoulders.

"I don't know about you but I'm starving. And if I remember correctly, I was promised cuddles." He grinned, making you roll your eyes with a smile.

"I don't have much in the fridge but we can go to the convenience store right around the corner, they have decent hot dogs."

Lady perked up and barked at the mention of hot dogs.

"Hot dogs it is, then." Leon grinned, petting Lady again.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The walk to the little convenience store was quiet and pleasant, making casual small talk about your daily life and any hobbies that you'd both spend time on outside of work. Lady was happily walking on her leash between you and Leon, him being on the side closer to the road, of course.

He insisted, and there was no arguing with him. Not that you wanted to, but he couldn't know that, so you feigned push back until you 'relented' with a sigh, and you walked on with Leon having a triumphant smirk on his face.

Lady was excitedly looking around at all the colorful light up signs and street lamps. You never took her out this late, you never felt safe enough to do so, but with Leon by your side you've never felt safer.

There was a quiet splat sound as you stepped through a puddle, courtesy of a downpour earlier in the day.

You could spot the familiar sign of the store further down the street when Leon spoke up.

"What movie did you pick?" A small grin crept onto your face at his question.

"You know how you're such a big fan of the Lord of the Rings hexalogy?"

"Yeah..." his furrowed brows and the hesitancy in his voice almost made you chuckle.

"And you know how they made the books into movies a couple of years ago?"

"Wait, don't tell me-"

"Well," you interrupted him as his eyes widened, "I happen to have the entire trilogy at home. Extended editions. I figured we could watch the first one." You smiled, watching the light in his eyes grow.

"Are you serious?" He chuckled breathlessly.

"Very."

"God, you're the best best friend."

"Right back at you, Lee."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The little bell attached to the top of the door frame jingled as you stepped inside, Leon and Lady in tow. Leon's eyes fell on the short, elderly woman that was seated behind the counter, glasses on the tip of her nose with a pencil in hand, seemingly solving a crossword puzzle or perhaps Sodoku.

She wore a pink cardigan, and there were a few rollers hidden in her short silver curls. She glared over the top of her glasses at the ring of the bell, but her forming scowl was replaced by a bright smile when she spotted your kind face. Leon smiled just a little at the observation.

Apparently, you had the habit of carving yourself a spot in others' hearts no matter how cold or grumpy they were.

"Why, hello, dear! It's so nice to see you. You've brought Lady, too, I presume?" She chuckled, being met with a proud bark from your dog.

The woman slightly stretched upwards to take a look at your pup that was hidden behind the counter and she wiggled her manicured hand in Lady's direction, a form of greeting, before she rummaged through a drawer, pulling out a treat. Lady tapped her paws on the linoleum floor excitedly, waiting for her to throw the treat. She did with a soft giggle, clapping when Lady caught it.

"Good to see you, too, Dot." You smiled, scratching Lady's cheek.

"And who's this, hm?" She gave you a smirk before letting her gaze run over Leon,

"have you finally got yourself a boyfriend? Oh, I thought the day would never come!" She sighed excitedly.

"Rude." You grumbled underneath your breath. Before you could answer her, Leon took the reigns of the conversation.

"I'm Leon, her best friend. Nice to meet you." He said with a kind smile, holding out his hand for Dot to shake. She glared suspiciously at his hand but decided to take it in the end.

"Best friend, huh? How come I've never seen you before? God help me if I find out you're only pretending to be her friend so you can take her to bed and break her heart like the rest of your generation-" she pointed a finger at Leon accusingly, stretching forward as much as she could, though never reaching for enough to jab at his chest.

"Dot, Dot!" You scolded with a small chuckled, taking her wrist and tugging it back at her side.

"He's not like that, I promise." You said gently, watching as Dot still glared at Leon.

"Ma'am, I can assure you, I have no intention of ever breaking her heart." He chuckled, placing a hand over his heart.

Dot sank back into her chair.

"Good." She said firmly.

"We lost touch a couple of years ago due to some... unfortunate circumstances in the town we lived in," Leon glanced at you briefly, "but we recently found eachother again on a work trip."

He explained, watching as Dot's judgemental facade slowly crumbled.

"Oh, alright. I suppose you do look like a nice boy." She relented with a sigh, making Leon grin.

"Quite handsome, too." She pondered before turning in your direction, "it's a shame he isn't your boyfriend, you know."

"Dot-"

"What? You can't be alone forever. You've known him a longtime. Most boys are either pretty or decent, not both. He's the exception, it seems. Are you just going to waste that?"

You sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of your nose. You knew very well that Leon was smiling bashfully with a blush on his cheeks. He never knew how to deal with compliments.

"Dot. We've been over this so many times. And can you please not talk about him like he isn't here??" You whisper-yelled the last part, feeling a heat crawl up your spine when Leon chuckled.

"Fine, don't take my advice then." She brushed you off, turning to Leon.

"Maybe you should take her to bed-"

"DOROTHY."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You waved Dot goodbye, stepping into the cool chill of the night with some snacks you'd bought in your bag and the only thing warming your hands being that delectable looking hot dog.

You sat down on a nearby bench, Lady sitting patiently at your feet while you fed her a couple bits of the sausage.

"These are pretty good for convenience store hot dogs." Leon's voice came muffled from beside you, when you turned your head you broke into laughter seeing him basically inhale that hot dog.

"What? I'm hungry." He defended himself, still muffled and obstructed as he chewed on the bun. You took another bite of your hot dog and chuckled as Leon licked his fingers.

Your laughter was contagious to Leon, he couldn't help when the familiar rumble of laughter surged through his chest.

You sat giggling and laughing on that bench for a while, no real reason or purpose for your laughter other than the person beside you, a feeling the both of you had longed for for as long as you can remember.

The laughing didn't stop on your way home, watching fondly as Leon continously threw a stick for Lady who darted off before returning with said stick. The empty streets echoed of excited barks and heartfelt laughter.

And that carefree feeling that made you breath without a heavy weight on your chest was something you wanted to cling on for as long as you could.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Leon's eyes were glued to your TV as he attentively watched as the scenes of The Fellowship of the Ring ran across the screen.

The bright and lovely beginning of the movie with all the green hills and the Hobbithole made tears of joy sit on his lashline as he talked about how surreal it was to see the world he'd read of and imagined so many times before. Lady was asleep with her head in Leon's lap while he gently petted her, like it was second nature to him, his other arm resting on the back of the couch.

You watched as the colorful light of the movie ran over the handsome features of his profile.

Your mind drifted to a multitude of different scenarios. What if he was your boyfriend? Is that something he'd want? Is that something you'd want? That answer came to you quicker than you'd like to admit. You wouldn't mind if you were dating. No, you wanted to date him. You wondered, what if he had similar thoughts about you? Or were you just as foolish as the last times and end up having to pick the shards of your heart off the ground?

But how nice it would be.

Your own little life with Lady and Leon, your own little family. Your heart yearned for it, you could feel that aching pull in your chest. Before you knew it, the credits were rolling and you snapped out of your somewhat embarrassing daydreams.

You rested your chin on his shoulder.

"So, what did you think?" You asked softly. Leon smiled before trying to start a sentence a couple of times but failing.

"I... it was incredible. S'like my childhood came to life. I mean, it did every time I read the books, but... this is different. Thank you." He said quietly, taking your hand and giving it a squeeze.

"Anything for you."

It slipped out before you could stop it. But instead of taking it back in a scramble of haphazardly formulated excuses, you let it linger.

You let it linger between the two of you, reveling in the warmth of it. Leon's arm slowly slipped from the back of the couch, settling heavy on your shoulders.

You let out a quiet sighed and subconsciously shuffled yourself closer to him to the point where your noses were almost brushing against one another.

"I'm so glad that I have you. Life's only been getting better since you came back into my life, it's like... all the color returned." He whispered, drawing circles into the back of your neck, sending both a searing hot feeling and a chill up your spine.

You could feel his warm breath on your face, and his blue eyes had never shone this bright.

You inched closer with half lidded eyes, enveloped and dazed by his embrace, his touch, his warmth.

Your lips brushed for a mere second before a loud bark from Lady snapped the both of you out of it, and you scrambled away from each other. You were pressed to the other end of the couch with burning cheeks as you kept your gaze away from Leon.

Lady whine and tilted her head, nudging her toy closer to Leon.

"You... you want to play?" He asked gently, a hint of disappointment tarnishing his tone. He got his confirmation with yet another bark and a wagging tail.

"M'sorry, but it's late. I should.." he cleared his throat and briefly glanced at you, making you whip your head away, "I should go home."

Lady whimpered sadly but Leon just gave her a few consolation pets before he got up from the couch.

You followed behind him, being the good host you were, seeing him out the door. The tension that hung in the air was thick and uncomfortable. Instead of the usual warm hug, you opted for an awkward wave. And with a stumbled promise of calling you in the coming days, Leon was out the door.

When you heard the click of the lock, you slid down onto the floor, back pressed against the door as you groaned, laying your face in your hands.

Your cheeks were a raging inferno by this point, and your pounding heart didn't exactly help either. There were so many things going on in your head at once. It felt like your brain was about to explode.

You wanted to cry and yell in frustration for having such a perfect moment ruined, but there was slight relief because were you ready for a change that big? Were you ready to never have your newly built friendship with Leon be the same again? All these unanswered questions were making your head spin.

You felt Lady's wet nose nudge at your hands and you pulled your head back, letting it fall back against the door with a soft thump. You sighed and closed your eyes.

"I love you, DeeDee, but what the hell was that?" You glanced at her, your voice being laced with nothing but defeat.

Your pup laid down beside you and looked at you apologetically and let out a soft whine. You cracked a small, soft smile and stroked her head.

"It's okay. I guess. I don't know. I need to sleep on it." You said quietly, followed by a sigh.

You retreated to your bedroom, tossing and turning. You spent most of the night staring at your ceiling or watching Lady take gentle breaths beside you.

Sleep didn't come easily to you that night. Though, you were lucky sleep came to you at all.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Leon let his head hit the steering wheel of his car with a sigh. He was finally so close to expressing his feelings for you without having to actually say it when it was all ripped away from him.

"Lady is lucky she's cute." He mumbled, starting the car and driving off to his home.

The growing frustration in his chest didn't go away as he drove on, to his dismay. He laid awake all night, staring at the empty side of his bed, imagining what it would be like if you were there.

If his bed wouldn't feel so cold anymore, despite his thick blanket.

He wanted nothing more than to hold you, to kiss you, to love you. Leon was certain you'd died that day. He remembered his cracked voice after screaming for you until he was dragged away.

The emtpiness in his heart when it sunk in that he had failed to save you and would now have to live with the overwhelming guilt of your loss.

The day you two crossed paths in that Spanish village, Leon swore to himself that he would do anything in his power to never feel like that again. He wouldn't lose you this time. Not again.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

"I don't know what to do! It was so awkward." You sighed frustratedly, pulling at your hair.

"You guys almost kissed! A kiss is a two-sided thing. Usually. He's totally into you, too." Ashley beamed through the phone.

Your contact with Leon had been kept to a minimum these past few weeks. You didn't know how to even start a conversion now.

It was just that embarrassing and awkward almost-kiss moment running on loop in your mind whenever you thought of him.

"I just... I don't know. He might be? I mean, I want him to be... but I've been wrong before and I don't think I could handle getting my heart broken by him." You spoke, albeit somewhat dazed as you seemed to be lost in your thoughts.

"I think you should talk to him. I know it's awkward and uncomfortable, but it's only gonna get worse if you two keep avoiding each other like this." Ashley said softly, making you sigh and drag a hand down your face.

Not talking to Leon was eating you from the inside. You'd missed him terribly, but the thought of having to look him in the eyes after that incident made your skin crawl.

You looked outside of your window, the moonlit streets littered with bright neon signs reminded you of that you spent with him and Lady.

If talking to him meant you would experience something like that again and feel that intoxicating euphoria that was freedom and peace all over, you'd swallow your nerves and the twisting churn in your stomach and do it.

"I suppose.. you're right. It feels different now, you know? I guess now that I look back I've been in love with him for a while. Saying it out loud just... makes it real." You laughed half-heartedly, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

Lady was laying by your feet as you petted her absent-mindedly.

"It'll all work out, I promise! You gotta have more faith in yourself. You're a real catch." She giggled, making you crack a lopsided smile.

"Thanks, Ash. I'll... I'll talk to him. Soon. I'm... really tired right now, I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, no problem. Keep me updated!"

"I will, Bye-Bye." You chuckled.

"Talk soon!"

You let out a heavy sigh when the noise of the ended phone call hit your ears.

"What a mess, huh?" You asked Lady, smiling slightly when she gave you an affirmative huff.

Your thoughts were running wild, but you were exhausted. So, despite your brain screaming at you, you eventually fell asleep, a weird dread settling in your stomach as your eyes shut.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Your limbs felt leaden, your mind slowly waking up but your body refusing to as tears nipped at your lashline. Your muscles ached and quiet sobs slipped past your lips as the horrific pictures of that night ran behind your eyelids like a movie on a screen.

The blanket that would usually soothe your anxiety with its weight suddenly felt too heavy, all too much like the rubble you were buried under after the building collapsed on top of you. You could feel the sharp edges of concrete and rebar digging and cutting into your skin all over again. Your throat felt dry, just like when you breathed in all the dust and debris back then.

Your sobs grew louder, and they turned into pathetic wails as the memories continued to flood your mind. Still, your legs and arms refused to move, your breaths turning shallow as panic set in. All you could do was lay there like a wounded animal, trapped in the literal nightmare that were your memories.

Your door opened slightly, and Lady came rushing in, alarmed by your cries. She jumped up onto the bed and licked at your cheeks before nudging your arm with her nose. Your fingers twitched, and you gathered all your strength before you reached over to your nightstand and felt for your phone, all while Lady whimpered beside you.

You sagged back onto the bed once you've had a steady grasp on your cell. With trembling fingers, you clumsily tapped at the screen, hoping you'd somehow call Leon. Lady laid her head on your chest, hoping to help steady your breathing.

Sobs tore through you when that familiar pain in your chest set in, the one you felt when you thought Leon had you left you behind. You were angry and hurt, ready to chew him out the second you'd find him in all this mess.

But once you got out and ran from all the resident evil, and all you found was his bloodied badge, your anger evaporated and all that was left was the heart wrenching pain of having lost your best friend.

You grew frustrated with yourself when your numb fingers refused to his the right button, but eventually you managed to click on Leon's contact and your panic was soothed just a tiny bit when you hit the call button.

You cried through the rings of the phone, mentally begging for him to pick up. It was the middle of the night. You were all alone, but you hoped he'd pick up.

You felt like you were dying, the pain in your chest, the heaviness in your limbs, the lack of oxygen caused by your hurried breaths making you light headed.

"Please, please, please..." You sobbed, your hands shaking. A particular unpleasant wail left your throat when it went straight to his voice-mail. Lady softly barked at you, beckoning you to try again.

You could see the worry when you glanced down into ber big brown eyes. You tried again, feeling exhausted as all the crying and fast breathing sucked the strength from you. This time, he picked up at the first ring, making you sob in relief.

"It's the middle of the night, what- hey, hey, what's going on, are you okay?" His voice made the ache in your chest lessen, and you could even muster up the tiniest smile.

"L-Leon...'" You forced out between sobs and hiccups.

"What happened? Where are you?" He asked firmly, a rustling sound in the background.

"N-need you... please.."

"I'm coming, okay? Just breathe for me." There was worry and panic in his voice, but he kept it soft and soothing for you to help you calm down. You slightly nodded your head.

"Yeah, y-yeah, okay-" your trembling hand accidentally hit the red button, ending the called. Your arm gave out and your phone fell onto your bed, just out of reach.

The crying had drained more of your energy than you thought and you weeped as your phone lit up again and again, Leon calling you. You watched for what felt like forever as he called you continously and all you could do was watch with no strength left to move.

Lady whimpered and pushed your phone closer to you, but you couldn't even lift your finger to pick up.

You've never felt so helpless and pathetic in your life.

So, you continued sobbing as the memories still wouldn't stop as you waited for Leon, feeling a pouding headache setting in already.

Finally, after what felt like some excruciating hours to you, you heard your front door click. You thanked all of the gods above that you'd exchanged spare keys with Leon. Lady jumped off the bed and barked, running towards the front door.

"Where is she?" Leon heaved urgently, following your dog who pulled at his sleeve, leading him to you. His heart shattered at the sight of you. Red and puffy eyes with heavy bags under them, cracked lips, and a heaving chest.

Your complexion looked all wrong, as if you were sick, and to be honest, you did look like you were about to pass out any second.

He rushed to your side, pulling you close to him and slowly rubbing circles on your chest to help you get more air into your lungs.

Leon's jacket was shrugged off, same with his boots and he climbed in next to you and sat you upright. You felt so weak, like your bones were made of jelly, so you awkwardly slumped against him.

"What's going on with you?" He asked softy, gently wiping away your tears.

"Nightmare.. Raccoon City..." Your sobbing picked back up when you uttered the name of your once beloved city, and Leon swallowed thickly.

"I-I thought that you-you left me again.." You wailed, grabbing onto his shirt. Leon pulled you closer with tears glistening in his eyes and a deep ache in his heart.

"I never left you... I would've never ever left you. They made me, dragged me away, and I couldn't... I couldn't go back for you." His voice cracked halfway through, and you gently shifted your head back to look at him.

The heart broken look in his blue eyes almost made your own shatter. You pulled yourself up and into his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck in a tight hug. His arms tightened around you as he buried his face in your neck, rubbing between your shoulder blades to help you breathe deeper.

You cried in each other's arms, mourning the loss of the normal life you had before the incident and the pain of having been apart for 6 years. Lady watched from the foot of the bed, visibly relaxing as your sobs lessened. You pulled back and took his face in your hands, wiping his tears away. Leon melted into your touch, and the crease between his brows softened ever so slightly. You sniffled and took a deep breath.

"I love you. And not like a best friend. I'm in love with you, Leon Kennedy." His eyes shot open at your words and his jaw slacked slightly.

"I've loved you for so long it hurts. I was terrified, so I never said anything but when I thought I lost you I regretted never telling you. I love you so much." You sighed, stroking his cheek.

If you had any tears left to cry, you would be a mess right now. Or at least, more of a mess than you already were

"I just... you're the only one who... who can make it better, you know? Make it hurt less."

Leon's shocked eyes softened, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. You searched for anyhing; hatred, disgust, joy, reciprocation, anything.

"A-And it's fine if you don't feel the same but-"

You were cut off by Leon connecting your lips in a kiss so soft it made a tear roll down your cheek as you leaned into him. Cupping the back of your neck, he gently pulled you in closer in and sighed against your lips.

"I love you too. I never stopped, even when I thought you were gone. You... you make it hurt less, too." He spoke softly, a lopsided grin on his face. You chuckled softly and hugged him again, burning the feeling of his touch into your mind. Leon rested his forehead against yours and stole a few soft pecks from you.

"Will you stay?" You asked in a whisper, suddenly being hit with a wave of sleepiness.

"I'll always stay. Always, I promise." He said softly, kissing the tip of your nose. You smiled hazily and slowly slid down the headboard, dragging Leon with you under the covers. You realxed into his embrace, your face nuzzled against his chest as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

Lady, who had watched the whole thing with a slowly wagging tail, crawled up the bed between the two of you and nudged her nose against Leon's cheek repeatedly. He giggled, albeit with an exhausted undertone.

"I guess you finally have a Dad, DeeDee." You said quietly, earning a small huff from your pup and one last kiss from Leon along with an amused chuckle before you drifted off to pleasant dreams for the first time in years. He soothed your mind and kept all the bad memories away.

Your love acting like a shield, protecting you from nightmares. You'd been wandering in the dark for years, searching for all the pieces of yourself that you lost that night.

You were lost once, but with Leon, you were found again.

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[raaorqtpbpdy]

Have You Ever...

Danny gets invited to a hero convention as Danny Phantom, and his booth is next to none other than the legendary Ben 10, one of Danny's own favorite heroes. But when the two start playing a modified version of Never-Have-I-Ever to alleviate their boredom between handshakes with fans, they accidentally expose some things they didn't really mean to.

You can also read it on AO3

Written for X-over Danuary Week 2024, Day 1: Ben 10 | Prison Thanks @crossoverdanuary for running this!

I got a late start because I had DnD today, and I finished this at like 10pm, so I didn't have time to edit. I'm planning on editing it later this week, but until then, sorry for any mistakes. [Edit: it has now been edited]

[Warning for mentions of past traumatic experiences]

It was weird to see such a huge convention center so empty.

Well, it wasn't completely empty, but a few people carrying boxes and setting up displays was a significantly smaller crowd than Danny would normally expect to see in a place like this.

"Ah! Danny Phantom you're here!" A woman with a high ponytail and a convention staff t-shirt walked over to him. "Wow, I'm so excited that you actually came!" 

Her voice was familiar.

"Sally, right?" he guessed. "Sally Braddock?"

"You remembered!" She said brightly.

Sally had been the one who'd convinced Danny to come to this convention. She'd offered him pretty substantial payment, but it was only when she told him he could have three free tickets to the convention as well that Tucker told him he had to agree or they wouldn't be friends anymore. 

So here he was, at San Diego Hero Con, halfway across the country, to sit at a table and sign autographs for a few hours each day, and then do an hour-long panel with a bunch of other teen heroes, and another tomorrow on specifically ghost hunting. (He was still debating whether he should actually show up to that one, or if it would be too dangerous.) The worst part, though, was how early he had to wake up to set up his booth before the event started.

"Here's your presenter badge," Sally said, and handed him a bright yellow name tag clipped to a blue lanyard with the convention's logo on it. "Celebrity meet-and-greets are over there. I'll lead the way. We try not to put them too close to each other or the lines get out of control, but your booth is right next to Ben 10's."

Danny perked up at that. "The alien guy?"

"Yup!"

Oh, man, he hoped he'd get the chance to talk to him. Ben 10 was Danny's favorite superhero. He got to fight real life aliens, sometimes in actual space! And sure, Danny had been to space before that one time Technus had taken over a satellite, but it had still been a ghost fight. It wasn't the same.

"So, this is your table," Sally said, pointing to an empty, white folding table. "Do you have a tablecloth, or banners or headshots or anything?" she asked him with a tight smile.

"Uh.... I don't photograph well," he replied.

Sally sighed. "Well, I can bring over one of the convention tablecloths, but you really should get some kind of poster or cardboard cut-out or something that shows people who they're meeting. And you'll definitely need something to sign. Comic books, or T-shirts. Anything, really. There's a portrait artist in Artists Alley who works pretty fast, her name is Jess. If you get something from her, I can send a gopher to make copies for you to sign." 

"Uh, okay? But, I can just call a friend to bring something."

"Whatever works." With that, Sally left to go organize something else.

Danny called up Sam, who was back at the hotel with Tucker—Tucker would no doubt still be sleeping—and asked her to find a nearby print shop and get a Danny Phantom Banner to hang up and a whole bunch of 8x10 illustrations of him. He let her pick the picture, but asked her to please not pick anything too embarrassing.

Right as he hung up, a pair of people approached the booth next to him carrying plastic tubs. It was none other than Ben 10 himself and a tall, furry, blue alien who was no doubt one of his allies. (That or a cosplayer, but since they were with Ben 10 himself, Danny felt safe in assuming that they really were an alien.) The two of them placed their tubs on the floor and opened them up to start unpacking their display.

"Woah, hi!" Danny said, louder than he meant to.

Ben 10 snapped his head around, muscles tensing. Danny recognized that response all too well, and tried not to let out a sympathetic wince.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," he said. "You're Ben 10, right? I know this is cringey to say, but I'm a huge fan."

"Uh, thanks? Just Ben is fine."

"I'm Danny Phantom, but you can just call me Danny."

"I can see that... uh... nice to meet you?" Ben replied. He seemed uncomfortable. Had Danny come on too strong.

"Something wrong?"

"What? No, of course not," Ben said, though it wasn't very convincing.

"I am Rook Blonko," Ben's companion said, offering Danny a handshake which he excitedly accepted. "It is an honor to meet another hero, though I will admit, it was only recently that I came to learn about you." 

"Oh, yeah," Danny let out an awkward laugh and rubbed the back of his head. "My scope is a lot more regional and sometimes not very... in this dimension." 

"That would be... the Ghost Zone, right?" Ben said casually. "What's it like? Anything like the Null Void?"

So he was at least somewhat familiar with Danny and his exploits. Danny tried not to let that go to his head, but he couldn't help feeling a little giddy nonetheless. Ben laid down a black tablecloth with his logo on it and spread it across his table. This definitely wasn't his first rodeo.

"I don't know about the Null Void," Danny said. "It's like the bottom side of this dimension. It's where ghosts live... or... not live. Reside. Almost everything is green because of all the ectoplasm there, and when humans go there, they can pass right through walls and objects just like ghosts can in this dimension."

"That does not sound like the Null Void at all," Rook observed, pulling rods and boards out of one of the boxes and assembling them into a small standing shelf.

"What's the Null Void like?" Danny asked.

"Mostly red," Ben said with a shrug. "Full of floating islands and enormous aliens. Used as a penal colony for this dimension's worst criminals."

"Oh... yeah, no. Aside from the floating islands, that doesn't sound anything like the Ghost Zone," Danny agreed. "Although it's kind of a cool coincidence that we both have experience with alternate dimensions."

"Yeah, I guess so." Ben looked over at Danny and his sad excuse for a booth—really looking for the first time. "First time at one of these things?"

"Oh yeah," Danny confirmed. "My friend is bailing me out at a print shop right now, but I was so unprepared."

Ben snorted. "Here," he said, digging through one of his boxes and pulling out a bright green swath of fabric. "You can use one of my tablecloths. I brought an extra, just in case. It has my logo on one side, but if you turn it around so the logo faces you no one will be the wiser. We have basically the same color scheme, so it works out."

"Thanks," Danny accepted the tablecloth, slightly surprised, and spread it out over his table. It was almost exactly ectoplasm green, just a shade or two darker. "Have you been to a lot of conventions?"

"A few," Ben said.

"This is your fourth," Rook said.

"That sounds right. If it hadn't been for Rook, I probably would've been just as lost as you at my first one. He's all about preparing in advance. But yeah, I've been a public hero for over a year now, and since my identity isn't a secret anymore, it's easier for the people who run these things to get a hold of me."

"About that... why don't you have a secret identity?"

"It wasn't exactly my choice," Ben replied. "Some kid found it out and exposed me on the internet. It turned out surprisingly well, though, for the most part. Must be nice for you though, not having an alternate identity—not that being dead is nice or anything like that—I mean, it's not a bad thing—or it is a bad thing? I uh... yeah, I don't know what I'm saying."

After taking a moment to parse that rambling sentence, Danny burst out laughing. 

"Hahaha! Is that why you're acting so uncomfortable around me? Because I'm dead? Ha! You don't have to worry about that. You're fine."

"Serious?"

"Dead serious," Danny replied with a smirk.

Ben shook his head with a soft laugh. "Alright, fine.... Actually, that's not the only reason. Back when I was ten and just starting out I had... a bad experience with a ghost-like alien of mine. Ever since, ghost stuff just puts me a little on edge."

"Oh... I see. Well, don't worry, I won't take it personally," Danny said. "Did you really start doing this when you were ten?"

"Yeah. Although I kinda retired for a few years when I was eleven, and started up again when I was fifteen."

Danny did some quick math in his head. "Oh, so altogether, you and me have been in this for about the same amount of time. 'Cause I got started a little over two years ago."

"Yeah?" Ben was silent for a few moments. He pulled out boxed figurines of his alien forms and lined them up on the shelf Rook had assembled. "So... when did you...."

"Die?" Danny finished for him. "I was fourteen. I'm almost seventeen now. In about three months, I mean."

"Do you still age?"

"Sort of?" Danny shrugged.

He and Jazz had come up with an answer to this question a little while ago, when people noticed that Danny Phantom was starting to look older, even though ghosts supposedly didn't age.

"A ghost's body is a reflection of their mental image of themself. In the Zone, ghosts don't really age or change unless something specific happens that makes them feel older or different. Because I spend so much time in the human world still, because I learn and grow with each fight, I still feel like I'm growing up, so I look like I'm growing up, too."

"That is fascinating," Rook said. "I would love to learn more about ghostly biology."

"I would love to tell you about it. Problem is, I really don't know that much," Danny told him apologetically. He shrugged. "Sorry. I'm a superhero, not a scientist."

"I'm here!" Sam called, her heavy combat boots tromping into the room. She was carrying a large cardboard box. "I would have been here sooner, but I had to put together a design for the banner. Luckily I found a printer that could make one for you on short notice like this, or you'd be screwed."

"You're a life saver!"

"You wish," she scoffed. "I got you a banner and three hundred head shots."

"That's not gonna be enough," Ben said immediately.

"Ya think?" Sam asked.

"Trust me."

She sighed heavily in annoyance. "Okay, I can go back and get some more, but you so owe me, Danny."

"Yeah, I know," Danny said, taking the box from Sam. "You're the best!"

"Yeah, yeah," she said, taking one of the head shots off the top of the stack and leaving again.

"Is that your friend?" Ben asked.

"One of them," Danny confirmed, setting the box down on the table. "That's Sam. She and Tucker have been with me since the beginning. He's probably still asleep at the hotel."

He pulled out a stack of head shots for the table and slid the box with the rest underneath. She'd picked a good picture. It was a poster illustration for a local ghost awareness presentation he'd done a while back, and he nearly sighed with relief when he saw it. He'd been half afraid she'd pick one of the grainy newspaper photos of him in his underwear.

"That's cool," Ben said. "Yeah, I don't think anyone could do this job without allies. When I first started, I had my Grandpa and my cousin, then my cousin and my best friend, and now I have Rook as my partner."

"We have been together for a year," Rook added.

"Like... together together or...?"

"Working partners," Ben clarified insistently. "It's not like that."

"Oh, okay, my bad."

Hoping to alleviate his embarrassment, Danny unfurled his new banner and flew up to hang it on the wall behind his booth. It looked cool, but not too complicated. Just his name and logo and a little bit of ghost designs around the edges. Sam had done a good job with it.

"You are not the first to think that," Rook consoled. "It is a more common assumption than one might think."

They continued chatting idly while they set up their booths. Danny got to ask Rook what kind of alien he was, and what his home planet was like. Sam showed up with a whole bunch more photos and then immediately abandoned them to get a sneak preview of artist alley before she came back as an attendee.

Just before the convention center officially opened, Danny worked up the courage to ask Ben for an autograph, and Ben obliged him with a smile, offering an exchange, rather than asking for payment. Danny eagerly accepted, signing one of his own pictures and trading it for Ben's. Ben's looked far more professional than his own. He hoped people wouldn't be disappointed.

As people started trickling in past the security checkpoint up front, both heroes only got a few people in the beginning. After only about twenty minutes of boredom, Ben suggested they play a game.

"Sure," Danny agreed. "What game?"

"My buddy Kevin calls it Reverse-Never-Have-I-Ever, and my cousin calls it Have-You-Ever." Ben said. "See, we could never play regular Never-Have-I-Ever, because we all knew all the weird stuff we'd done and we'd target each other mercilessly. With this version, You say something you have done, and anyone who hasn't done it loses a point. If everyone's done it, no one loses a point."

"Okay... I think I get the idea, but why don't you start? Five fingers or ten?"

"Let's start with five," Ben said. "Rook, you playing?"

"I will pass," Rook said. "I always lose this game."

"Alright, if that's what you want." Ben shrugged. "Alright, Danny, have you ever... transformed into a different species?"

"Yes."

"You have?!"

"Uh, yeah. I went from human to ghost. Duh."

"Oh... right, duh," Ben agreed, shaking his head at how foolish he'd been to blow his first question like that. "Wow, I can't believe I didn't even think about that...."

"My turn, right?" Danny said. "Have you ever fought an evil alternate version of yourself?"

"Yeah, like six of 'em."

"Okay, well, now you're just showing off."

Ben smirked. "Oh, I never get to use this one on my friends. Have you ever been to space?"

Danny smirked right back. "One of my rogues possessed an orbital satellite."

"Damn it!" 

Someone walked over to Danny's table and he smiled at her, pointedly ignored the way she shivered when he shook her hand, and signed a photo for her.

"Okay," he said, shifting his attention back to the game, "have you ever... been cut in two."

"I regenerated, but yeah."

"How?" Danny demanded.

"Plant alien."

"I should've guessed. Stupid plant creatures with their stupid regenerative powers. Undergrowth-ass alien. Lame." 

Ben laughed at him while he signed a figurine for a fan who came to his table. "How about this. Have you ever fought a medieval-style knight?"

"A knight? Hold on." Danny considered that for a moment. Had he? He'd rescued Sam from Dora's realm that one time, and yeah, he'd definitely had to fight the ghosts of knights then. Oh! Also Fright Knight. How could he forget about him. "Yes, I have definitely fought knights on several occasions. Ghost knights, obviously."

"Ugh! I really thought I had you with that one. Why do ghosts who died a thousand years ago have to stick around for so long?"

"Nope!" Danny teased. "Okay, how about this one. Have you ever fought a ghost?"

"Define ghost?" Ben asked.

"The law defines a ghost as any creature which produces ectoplasm, is composed of ectoplasm, or requires ectoplasm to survive," Danny recited. 

There was no need to say which law—that would be the anti-ecto acts. It was stupid that those stupid acts were still even law when public support of ghosts had never been higher. Although, they hadn't been as heavily enforced the last year or so, since the G.I.W. lost a lot of funding after repeatedly failing to catch their most wanted, Danny.

"Then yes, I have," Ben said. "Have you ever fought an alien?"

"Define alien."

"A creature originating from a planet or plane other than Earth."

"Then yes, ghosts."

"Ah ah ah!" Ben argued. "Ghosts are the spirits of dead humans, which means they originate on Earth."

"Except that not all ghosts are the spirits of dead humans," Danny countered right back. "Many ghosts originally formed inside the Ghost Zone, which makes them, by your definition, aliens, and I have fought them, too. Also I fought off some Incurseans back when they invaded the Earth a little while back. It was awesome." 

Ben groaned.

"Haha! Gotcha!"

"Just go already."

"Have you ever died?"

"Ha! Yes, I have," Ben said, as if dying was some huge victory. "You probably thought you had me, but you were wrong. I may have been brought back through alien magic and/or time travel, but yes, I have died. Speaking of which, have you ever time-traveled."

"Psh, have I time traveled?" Danny scoffed. "I have literally met the Ancient, omniscient Master of Time. He's a huge pain in the neck."

It was at this point that more people started accumulating at the two heroes' tables. Some got in line for autographs, though both Ben and Danny were too engrossed in their game at this point to give their full attention. Others just stood, watching, and listening to the two of them. A few even started filming their little game.

"Alright, my turn," Danny said. "Have you ever... oh, I have a good one! Have you ever had to fight your best friend after he copied your powers which then caused him to lose his mind and become evil?"

"Literally how?!" Ben shouted.

"Is that a no?"

"No, I meant 'literally how' as in how has something that specific happened to both of us?"

"No way!"

"Yes way! That's happened to Kevin more than once."

"What?!"

"I know, right?"

"It is also strange for this game to go so long without any of the participants losing a point," Rook said. "I believe it is at this point that I would have lost, had I been participating."

"You put up a good fight, Rook," Ben joked.

"But... I was not playing?"

"I was teasing, Rook."

"Ah, yes."

"Whose turn is it now?" Ben asked. "Mine, right?"

"Yeah," Danny confirmed.

"Have you ever had a limb severed?"

"Yes, but I'm a ghost, so I reattached it pretty easily. Have you ever altered the fabric of reality?"

"I once had to recreate the entire universe after it got destroyed, and then went on intergalactic trial for doing it. And the worst part is, ever since then, grape smoothies just don't taste the same. It's so frustrating. I did get this super comfortable hoodie out of it, though." 

"Ew, smoothies?" Danny grimaced. "What are you a yoga mom?"

Ben stood up, slamming a hand on his table and with the other, he pointed accusingly at Danny. "Smoothies are delicious, screw you!"

"You're just frustrated because I'm winning."

"You're not winning, neither of us have lost a single point! But you will!" Ben declared. "Have you ever saved the whole entire universe."

"Yes."

"What?" Ben fell back into his chair, deflated.

"A while back, this one group, the G.I.W. tried to destroy the Ghost Zone with a special anti-ghost nuke, and I stopped them. The Ghost Zone is the flip side of our dimension, so if it had been destroyed, it would have taken our universe along with it. Hence, I saved the universe. I just didn't let it get all over international news first."

"Boo!"

"Isn't that my line?" Danny said. 

Ben threw a sharpie at him and he turned intangible and let it pass right through him while he laughed at his own joke.

"Anyway, have you ever visited an alternate timeline where the entire earth is barren and desolate and the alternate version of you rules supreme?"

"Yes, I call it the Mad Universe, because it looked like Mad Max, you know?"

"Oh, yeah, I guess I can see it. But really? You have?"

"Yup. The alternate version of Rook was a jerk." 

Rook frowned but didn't have the chance to say anything before Ben kept talking.

"Have you ever... I don't know... every time I go weirder, you just match me. Have you ever had a family member be friends with one of you enemies?"

"Yeah, my dad considers my archenemy his best friend in the world," Danny said. "The feeling is not mutual, though. Have you ever been imprisoned by one of your enemies?"

"More times than I can count. Have you ever asexually reproduced?"

"Do clones count?"

"No!" Ben refused.

"Yes," Rook argued, possibly still upset about Ben's jerk comment. "Technically, cloning is a form of asexual reproduction."

"But could they fly?"

"I don't see how that's relevant to asexual reproduction, but yes," Danny said. "They were ghosts. They could fly. Most of them were too unstable to survive though. There's only one left." He frowned.

"Oh... sorry."

"It's... fine." It wasn't fine. He still found himself lying awake at night thinking about them sometimes. Danny shook his head and plastered on a determined grin. "I really think I've got you this time, though."

"Do you?" Ben did not sound convinced.

"Have you ever had to fight sentient food that was not still alive?"

"Y—wait...." Ben frowned as he thought about it for a long moment. "No... I haven't."

"Yes!" Danny cheered and Ben buried his head in his hands, humiliated. "This puts me in the lead."

"Not for long," Ben said. "Have you ever eaten food from another planet?"

"Wha—noooo...." 

"Ha!"

"We're dead even again." 

Their game continued.

"Have you ever fought a cult's subject of worship?"

"Have you ever had a Christmas-themed battle?"

"Have you ever fought on the same side as one of your enemies?"

"Have you ever been called upon to end a war?"

"Have you ever unexpectedly developed a new power that caused you trouble?"

"Have you ever used your powers to get out of other responsibilities?"

"Have you ever had to skip out on something you were really looking forward to and save the day?"

"Have you ever been blamed for property damage your enemies caused just because you happened to be there at the time?"

"Have you ever been mind controlled?"

"Have you ever fought an evil circus?"

The game kept going on and on, while they absently shook hands and signed autographs, with neither of them giving up another point. Until Sally showed up to tell them it was time to go to the teen hero panel they were on. 

It was only then that they looked up and saw all the cameras that had been recording their game. How long had they been recording? How much had they gotten?

"Uh... right," Ben said. "Sorry everyone. You can come back for autographs after the panel. And Danny, I think we're gonna have to call it a draw."

"We'll have to have a rematch some other time," Danny said, trying to keep his tone light, despite his sudden anxiety. 

Sally led the two of them to a large room with rows upon rows of empty seats, right down the aisle to the stage up front where a man in his thirties was already standing, and a masked teenage girl with glowing pink hair and eyes was sitting behind the table.

"Hello, I'm John and I'll be moderating this panel," the man introduced. "This is Lucky Girl, another teen hero we invited. Lucky Girl, this is Ben 10 and Danny Phantom."

"Nice to meet you," Danny said.

"I can't believe they roped you into this," Ben said, smiling at the girl like he knew her.

"Shut up," the girl barked back. "We can't all gain international fame overnight, and I have to pay for student housing."

"You two already know each other?" John asked, surprised.

"Oh yeah, we've known each other for a long time," Ben said. "All our lives, in fact."

"Ben, I swear if you give me away I will hex you so bad your children's children's children will travel for miles just to spit on your grave."

Ben put up his hands in surrender, and took his seat without another word. Danny followed his lead. This Lucky Girl didn't seem like the kind of person he wanted to mess with.

Once they were all in their seats, John gave them a quick run down of how the panel would go. He would ask a few questions. They would answer. He would open it up to questions from the audience, and they would answer those too. After an hour, the panel would be over, and they would return to their booths, or in Lucky Girl's case, simply leave, as she apparently didn't have a booth.

"She uses her powers to disguise herself, but she can't keep that up for more than an hour and a half," Ben whispered to Danny, clearly sensing his confusion. "She'll probably hang around for a little while after to greet fans, but she'll have to leave when her mana's drained."

"Oh, okay, that makes sense," Danny whispered back, nodding. "I was worried it might be like a sexism thing."

"As if she'd stand for something like that," Ben scoffed.

Soon enough, the doors opened, and people started trickling in. The seats filled up with mostly teens and young adults, with a few parents and older adults sprinkled in. Danny noticed Sam and Tucker come in and sit in the back row and waved at them. Rook was also sitting in the back row, trying not to draw attention to himself. Although, it seemed like most people thought he was a cosplayer, so he didn't really have to bother hiding.

When the doors closed, John started the panel.

The first part was easy. 

John asked questions like: "How do you balance being a hero with the other responsibilities you have as an adolescent?"

"Honestly, not well. You know how people say 'you can sleep when you're dead'? Yeah, that's a lie." 

"I'm lucky enough to have a good memory so I don't have to study much, otherwise my grades in school would tank. For me, the real struggle is finding time to do chores." 

"I prioritize my other responsibilities. I don't usually face world-ending, city-destroying threats like these two, which allows me the luxury of saving hero work for after my homework is finished."

And: "Where do you go when you want to de-stress after saving the day?"

"I usually go over to my friends' and play video games. I feel safe around them."

"If the sun's still up, Mr. Smoothie. But if it's late, I like to go out for chili fries."

"The library. I know it makes me sound like a nerd, but whatever. I am a nerd. Who cares."

And: "How do your parents figure in to you heroic activities?"

"They... don't know. They don't exactly have a great opinion of ghosts, and they don't recognize me when... I mean, they don't recognize me anymore. So I guess they don't figure in." That wasn't entirely true, but Danny wasn't about to say they shot at him in front of a crowd of hundreds of people.

"My parents are actually very supportive. At first, they wanted me to quit, because they were worried about my safety, but I changed their minds. They raised me to know right from wrong, and to help others whenever I can, and they're proud of me."

"My parents don't know either, and I don't live with them right now because I live on my school campus, so I guess, like Phantom, my parents don't really figure in either."

They were easy questions to answer, even if Danny didn't always tell the whole truth. John kept things light, focusing mostly on them being teenagers, and how being a hero affected that aspect of their life, rather than the other way around. There were a couple questions about battles and enemies, but for the most part, they avoided the heavy stuff.

Then, about halfway into the panel, John opened it up to the audience to ask questions.

They didn't shy away from the heavy stuff.

"Hi, I'm Mandy, big fan," said a girl with curly brown hair. "I have two questions for Ben, first is, are you dating anyone?"

Ben chuckled, trying to sound amused, even though, up close, Danny could tell the question made him uncomfortable.

"No, I'm not dating right now."

The girl giggled for a moment before asking her next question. "My next question is: when you're fighting an alien invasion basically by yourself, do you ever feel afraid?"

Ben didn't answer right away. He took a breath, and nodded.

"Yes," he said. "I know I'm strong, and there's a lot that I can do and have done, but when I'm outnumbered a thousand to one, yeah, I'm a little afraid."

"Not that you were ever actually by yourself," Lucky Girl pointed out.

"Heh," Ben rubbed his neck awkwardly. "That's true. Even if there weren't many, I've always had people in my corner."

The next person who stepped up was a guy in a Danny Phantom T-shirt which read 'it's not gay if he's dead.'

Danny immediately groaned and Ben grinned hugely. "Before you ask your question, I have a question for you. Where did you get that shirt?"

"I got it at a souvenir shop when I went to Amity Park, but I think you can buy them online, too," they guy said.

"I'm getting one."

Danny groaned even more insistently.

"My question is for Phantom. If you hadn't died, do you think you still would have become a hero, and protected your home from ghosts?"

"Honestly? I don't know," Danny admitted. "Amity Park does have other ghost hunters, the Fentons and Red Huntress, for example. If I hadn't d... if I didn't have my powers, I wouldn't really have the ability to protect anybody. I'd probably leave it to the ghost hunters who were better equipped."

"And for Lucky Girl, are you single?"

"Ha ha no," she said flatly. "I have a boyfriend."

"Figures."

Next up was a girl in some pretty fantastic Lucky Girl cosplay. Her wig even lit up. Although she looked like she was quite a bit taller than the real thing.

"Lucky Girl, do your periods ever interfere with fighting crime?"

"Uh... that's a bit personal," Lucky Girl said instantly, as if the answer was instinctive. 

But when she saw the way the girl reacted like she'd been slapped, hunching in on herself with shame, Lucky Girl bit her lip and answered anyway. 

"Actually... the life of a superhero is really stressful. The kind of stress that has... biological effects. When I first started fighting crime as, like, a regular thing, I didn't have a period for months. When I finally did again it was... you know what, I'll spare you the details. Suffice it to say, it was really bad. Like, my doctor prescribed me pills to stop me from menstruating bad. So... I guess the answer to your question is 'not anymore' and also sorry for the TMI." She finished with a short grimace.

"Thank you for answering," the girl said before going to sit back down.

Ben covered his mic and turned to her. "How come I never knew about that?"

"Are you kidding?" Lucky Girl muttered back. "Like I'm gonna discuss my cycle with a fifteen-year-old boy."

Ben didn't even attempt to argue with that.

As... much as those questions were, it was the next one that really stopped everything in its tracks.

"Hi, I'm Michael. I don't know if you know about this video that's going around. It was only posted, like, less than an hour ago, but it's really blown up in fan circles already," the young man said. "The video shows Phantom and Ben 10... I guess playing a game or something? Where you guys are asking each other if you'd done certain things and basically comparing experiences with each other? Do you know it?"

Ben and Danny shot each other anxious looks.

"Uh... I haven't seen it, but I think we know what you're talking about," Ben answered cautiously. "Is that your question?"

"No, my question is... well, in the video you guys are talking about alternate timelines, and fighting evil versions of yourselves, and getting mind-controlled, and changing reality. I guess my question is. Did all that stuff really happen to you guys?"

Neither Ben nor Danny wanted to answer. They didn't look at each other, or the crowd. They deeply regretted playing a game that revealed such personal secrets in a public space.

Finally, Ben cleared his throat. "Yes, all that happened." Danny nodded his own confirmation. "The life we lead is a dangerous one, and it demands sacrifices, and it takes a lot from you, and it puts you in a lot of strange situations that few others can understand. It's... not for everyone."

The next fan stepped up to the mic. "Follow up questions. First, how are you guys like... functional? Because I mean, if I'd gone through the kind of stuff you were talking about in that video, I think I'd have a mental breakdown. Second, why would you put yourselves through all that?"

"Well, first off, bold of you to assume I've never had a mental breakdown," Danny said. "And secondly, if we don't do it, who will?" he asked. "We're not just random ordinary high schoolers who up and decided to subject ourselves to unspeakable trauma just for the fun of it. 

"We do this because we have the power to do things others can't, to fight enemies other people can't fight. We do this because if we don't... if we don't, people die. Or worse. People experience the kind of things we do trying to protect them. So I guess the answer to both of your questions is, what other choice do we have?"

"Yeah, exactly what Danny said," Ben agreed. "I tried to give up my powers, and my responsibilities once, and people got hurt because of it. My grandpa.... Because I wanted to live a normal life, to take it easy, there was no one else to protect them. It is every individual's responsibility to do what they can to help others. It just so happens that we can do more than most, and that comes with drawbacks. 

"Lucky Girl, care to weigh in? You weren't in the video, but I know you've had your share of superhero related trauma."

"I think you guys pretty much covered it," she replied. "I don't think I've been through quite as much as you two, but I definitely know about the sacrifices we make for this life. I also know that it's worth it to know that the people and places you love are safe and protected because of you."

The boy's both nodded in agreement.

The questions didn't really lighten up after that. "What's the worst experience you've ever had as a hero?" "Have you ever failed to protect someone?" "We heard Ben 10 say so already, but have you ever wanted to quit, or wished you never had powers in the first place?"

After a point, John noticed how uncomfortable they were getting and had to step in and ask that the next few questions not be so dark.

A younger girl, maybe even a middle schooler, hand mercy on them at last, and asked, "What was the funniest thing that ever happened to you while you were saving the day?" and from there the questions finally eased up.

It felt like it had been far longer than an hour when the session ended, and they left the stage and returned to their booths to sign autographs and shake hands and listen to dozens of people gushing, "I'm you're biggest fan!"

They didn't pick up their game again, even when things got slow. Evidently they'd learned their lesson. And they kept learning it as more and more of the people who came to visit them asked about that video. Each time Danny had to smile and laugh it off, the regret deepened. 

It had been a while since he felt like such a complete idiot. Since he'd done something so thoughtless. He'd gotten a lot better at keeping secrets over the years, but he'd just been so excited to talk with someone he had so much in common with—and yeah, he'd probably gotten a little too competitive also. He should have known better.

"So uh... I was at your panel earlier," said a girl who placed a science magazine on the table for him to sign. The cover touted an article about 10 Things You Didn't Know About Ghosts (they have their own culture!). Danny remembered doing that interview.

"That's nice, thanks for coming," Danny said, his smile tensing. "Do you want me to sign the cover, or the page with the article."

"The cover please," the girl said. "For Marnie. And um... I was too nervous to stand up and ask before, but... I was really curious."

"Oh?" Danny asked, keeping his eyes on his hand as he signed the cover 'To Marnie, stay spooky'.

"Why would you make it a game?" she asked. "Wouldn't it be better to try to forget all those things?"

"Easier said than done," Danny said. "Things like that stay with you. Turning them into a joke or a game takes the power away from those bad memories. When you're laughing at your fears, what can they do to you? That's the way I see it. Ben might have another reason, and technically, it was his game. He came up with it."

"So... what you're saying is, laughter is the best medicine?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Danny agreed. He slid the magazine back to her. "Thanks for coming by."

Finally, Danny's shift was over, and Ben's ended at the same time. Just in time, too, because Danny was just about out of photos. He'd have to get more for tomorrow. He signed his last picture with a sigh of relief, thankful that the convention staff had come by to cut off the line when it was about time for him to be finished.

"You finished too, Danny?" Ben asked.

"Yup."

"You wanna go get lunch with us? Wait... do ghosts eat?"

"We do, but I was gonna meet up with my friends for lunch today, and then explore the convention a little." Danny said. "Are you gonna be here tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'm here for the whole con," Ben said. "Here, let me give you my number. We should keep in touch."

"Totally!" Danny agreed. "It'll be nice to have an actual superhero friend. I love Sam and Tucker, but there are some things...."

"Yeah, I get what you mean."

After swapping numbers the two of them headed off to their separate engagements. Danny transformed and got to experience what else Hero Con had to offer without getting swarmed by fans like he saw happening to Ben that afternoon.

They met up again the next day. Chatted at their booths, had lunch together, checked out the fan artists, just hung out for a while. This time around, Danny didn't have his human form to protect him from the crowds. 

That video of their game haunted them both for the rest of the convention. People kept bringing it up until it became almost more annoying than mortifying. 

When Hero Con finally ended, they both breathed sighs of relief. The convention was over, but Ben and Danny kept in touch. They never did have that rematch though. In fact, they were both pretty much done with 'Have-You-Ever'.

#dp #danny phantom #danny fenton #ben 10 #ben tennyson #gwen tennyson #fic #things i wrote #crossover danuary week #crossover danuary week 2024 #crossover #party games #past trauma #humor #dp x ben 10 #dp crossover #dialogue heavy

[copperbadge]

When I mentioned I was feeling a bit apathetic about my usual phone games and apps, therapist (I should give her a nickname of some kind) suggested rotating in a new puzzle or game for a dopamine hit, so I thought I might go back to "Diagramless" crosswords, which is where you do a normal crossword but without any of the dark spaces or numbers. I used to do the normal crossword but when you've been doing crosswords since the age of 15 they stop being very challenging after a while.

The problem is that because diagramless or skeleton crosswords are more difficult, they're not readily available, like I couldn't just go out and buy a book of them; there was one Chicago paper that would print them but they were cribbing the clues from the LA Times and anyway that only worked when I was stealing the paper from my workplace years ago.

My workaround was to create a 15-square grid in Excel, print that out, and do them by hand (more satisfying anyway) using clues from the LA Times crossword that I copy-pasted in. I stopped doing diagramless basically because just acquiring them was slightly more work than I wanted to be doing on a regular basis. (If anyone knows of a phone app that offers them, or a book of them I could buy, sing out.)

Anyway all was going well; above you can see the first two I did, and while I'm obviously rusty it's very satisfying to just do one, let alone complete them. I didn't bring very many with me while traveling but I was doing today's and something seemed...very off. It took me about four lines in and several headscratchers to realize that the puzzle clues were randomly and unusually for a 16 square crossword and I was trying to cram them into a 15 square grid.

Insert old joke here about "You aren't allowed to do crosswords anymore when you can do them entirely wrong" etc etc

Personally I blame Dan and Doug who designed it, and Patti who let it through, but on the other hand "Dan Doug and Patti" is a great name for a folk trio so I can't be too mad.

[ID: Several images of a printed 15-square grid filled out by hand with both crossword clue answers but also the squares and numbers that give the puzzle structure; the third image is only partially filled and clearly full of errors, and the last image is of the actual LA Times puzzle pattern, showing that there are 16 squares instead of 15. This never used to happen.]

#sam has adhd #crossword #crosswords #puzzles #god dammit LA times why don't you just offer an option to remove the numbers and blanks #daniel and doug I curse you to be unable to find good coffee for two days #patti i curse you to have bad coffee spilled on you at least once by dan or doug #not yet fired from therapy

[resowrites]

Stand By Me - oneshot (request).

Summary: Henry has to step up when the pressures of his fame have serious repercussions for his girlfriend…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x reader

Warnings: fluff, angst, details of anxiety/panic attack, nondescript OC body type/appearance, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 1507

A/N: My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

Stand By Me - oneshot (request).

"So how long are you guys going to be here? I love your dress by the way… is that silk?" The fan standing in front of her grabbed the billowing fabric and Henry could feel his hand being gripped tight - the signal she gave when she was starting to panic. "Are you heading back to your hotel, cos we could have drinks?" The fan tried to take her by the arm and he immediately yanked her to his side.

"Uh, thanks but there's somewhere we need to be. It was great meeting you, enjoy the convention." Henry then whisked them both in the opposite direction, away from the beach and back towards their car. By then she was staring straight down and breathing hard. "I'm so sorry, darling. I knew we shouldn't have come here without Steve. I'll take us back to the hotel and you can have a lie down before dinner, okay?" But she didn't answer him, her concentration instead seemed fixed on her footsteps. It was a bad sign and Henry could feel a pit open in his stomach. "Darling, can you just nod to tell me you're okay?" Her eyes had glazed over and the grip on his hand was tighter than ever. By the time Henry opened the car door, she was as pale as a ghost.

He felt so guilty. Turning his attendance at San Diego Comic-Con into a mini vacation had seemed like a good idea, a chance for them both to spend some quality time together after he'd been away the last several months filming. But although he'd researched the route beforehand and taken care not to be recognised, four fans had stopped them in the space of twenty minutes and even he was beginning to feel stressed. Henry was sure they wouldn't need their bodyguard, Steve, for a simple trip to the beach, but the place was just too busy for him to move about unseen. He attempted to change the subject. "You know my brother sent me a video of Kal this morning, guess what he was doing?" Henry looked over and found she had her eyes closed. "Darling, are you feeling sick? Do I need to pull over?" A quick flick of her head was all she could do to respond.

It wasn't that she was shy or socially awkward, she just didn't feel safe in crowds of people - especially when they invaded her personal space or grabbed her. Once or twice would have been bearable, and he regretted not leaving before she was pushed past her limit. "Darling I don't want to ask this, but do you feel an attack coming on? I can pull over and help you regulate yourself?" Her eyes were open again but she hadn't blinked in almost a minute. Henry knew that look well - she was dissociating. "Okay baby girl, let's try the five-four-three-two-one technique, yeah?" She breathed in hard but remained silent. He wracked his brain for another idea. "Okay, how about a butterfly hug, then? Cross your hands over your chest, and do eight sets of alternate taps, there's a good girl." But just as Henry turned his gaze back to the road, he saw something ahead of him flash twice. A camera. He swerved and took a back street, leaving the huddle of photographers at the side of the road far behind them. They were clearly there for the convention and may not even have taken their picture, but he was taking no chances.

"What's going on? Henry, what's happening?!" He'd hoped she hadn't noticed the flash, but unfortunately, the quick change in speed and direction gave her another reason to panic.

"Darling take some breaths, we're almost at the hotel, okay?"

"Henry, you're not answering me, what's going on? Is someone chasing us?!" She looked in the rearview mirror and started hyperventilating.

"No, darling! Please don't be scared, nothing's going to happen. I won't let it--"

"Just like you didn't let it back there?!" Her almost breathless response startled Henry, and as soon as he pulled up beside the parking valet, she darted from the car and into the hotel foyer. But he wasn't fast enough to chase her into the lift and when he finally entered their suite, she was nowhere to be found. Henry called out her name three times, tried ringing her twice, and then resorted to phoning the front desk to see if she had actually checked out and gone elsewhere. But all they could confirm was that she'd arrived just before him. Henry sighed and placed the phone back into the receiver. A terrifying thought then entered his head and he dashed onto the balcony, hoping against hope that he wouldn't find her there.

Henry breathed a sigh of relief when he slid back the doors and found the space out there empty. But where had she gone? Surely she wouldn't leave without coming back to their suite first? He crossed into their bedroom, hoping to get changed before he went out to look for her, and noticed what he thought was a noise coming from their ensuite. Tentatively, he pushed back the door. "Oh, darling…" There she lay, curled up in a ball next to the bath, sobbing. Henry planned his next movements carefully. Firstly, he turned off the bathroom light, leaving the room bathed in the glow from the hallway. Next, he plucked a towel from the rail above him and placed it carefully over her body.

When her cries became less desperate, Henry laid down beside her and gently ran his hand up and down her back. He kept his voice soft and low. "There we are, you're doing so good for me, sweetheart. Shushhh, breathe. Gently, darling, gently." Eventually, her body stopped shaking and she staggered to sit up. Henry smiled, hopeful she was through the worst of it. "How are you feeling now, darling?" She looked down at her hands uncomfortably. "It's alright, I'm right here. You're safe now." Something flashed across her eyes.

"And where were you when your fans were pulling me from pillar to post? That was really scary, Henry…" Her voice caught in her throat and he felt a lump in his.

"I'm so sorry, darling. You have every right to be angry--"

"I'm not angry, I'm terrified! I had no idea who those people were or what they were going to do to me--"

"You're right, and it's totally my fault, I should have taken us straight back to the car after the first encounter. I didn't think the promenade would be that busy at this time of day…" Henry's voice trailed off once he realised how badly he'd let her down. "I'm so, so sorry. I should have done more--" she gave a soft sigh and placed her hands on the arms he'd wrapped around her waist.

"You do a lot--"

"But not on this occasion. God I can't believe I was so stupid, I should have got you out of there--"

"It's fine. If anything I've failed you. If I was stronger, I'd be able to cope better--"

"What are you talking about? You have every right to feel upset. And you cope fantastically--"

"Clearly not or I wouldn't fall apart like this! We can't carry on like this, Henry. You need someone who can properly support you. All I am is a burden--"

"Stop right there." Henry hopped to his feet and quickly pulled her up with him. "Now you listen to me, you never have been and never will be a burden--"

"So what do you call crying in a heap?!"

"But it's my fault! No one should be cornering you in the street, putting their hands on you, or asking questions. It's my job to keep that part of my life separate and I need to do a better job from now on." She gazed into his pale blue eyes and shook her head.

"And what if it's not enough? What if this lifestyle just isn't me?" Henry smiled at her sadly.

"Well, it's hardly me, either. But that's why we're so good for each other, darling. We're each other's safe space. I don't ever want you to think how you react under stress is wrong or too much--"

"But it is!"

"Well, not to me because you're everything to me! And you have my word, I won't ever put you in that situation again." He then turned to the sink and ran a hand towel under the tap. "Here, let me put this on your wrists--"

"Why? What will that do?"

"Well, for one it's a good distraction. It also forces your neurotransmitters to refocus. Let me get you some ice to chew as well--" Henry turned to head into the bedroom but she pulled him back.

"… Thank you. Not just for this, but for everything you do--"

"You'll never need to thank me, darling. Ever. I promised to protect you for the rest of my life and it's a promise I intend to keep."

To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.

@elizabetharegina @fanfictionaddiction99 @luclittlepond @caffeinatedfestivalsheep @summersong69 @ushijimbo

#henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill imagine

[skylarsblue]

Hi could you do the slashers with a yandere s/o who also happens to kinda brutally kill people? Thanks 😊

(This is the ask where I wrote like, 500 words, and then it deleted itself. The audacity. Also, fun fact, when I redid this it refused to save. So I had to go through and copy/paste everything. I barely managed to do it all before the site crashed again. I might do more of these later on, but for now, I'm only gonna do four of them.) Trigger Warning; Descriptions of murder, blood, & gore, kidnapping(mentioned), stalking(implied) Unhealthy relationships and an unstable (Gender Neutral) Y/N. Barely proofread.

Ghostface; Danny 'Jed Olsen' Johnson (A sweet-faced & doting lover; A House Spouse)

Danny had been stressed out of his mind. More so than usual. Combinations of his day job and his "passion project" were intense enough most days, tiring but manageable for his twisted mind. Though recently, a new variable had made it increasingly more difficult. Trying to keep his hobby a secret was easy when he wasn't close to anyone, being overly cynical and critical of others made it easy to keep himself socially isolated. Keeping appearances without risk. However, conflict arose when he met someone he genuinely enjoyed the company of. You.

Danny had managed to go years without this kind of outcome. And yet, here he was, straining himself more than usual to try and keep face. All you had done was move across the street. He'd done his usual sleuthing, played his All-American mask, charmed his way into your home. It was meant to be the same thing as before. Yet somehow, against all kinds of barriers and obstacles, you'd wormed his way into his psyche and stuck there. He knew he was fucked when his thoughts would drift off in the middle of writing articles. Especially when his beloved cat decided you were good enough to like. Months of late-night talks on his lawn chairs or inviting him over for coffee and something you had baked. He mentally berated himself for liking your cooking so much. He'd even opened up to you slightly. Complaining about the woman who wouldn't take no for an answer at his job, how it gave him headaches. The way you portrayed yourself would work so well with Jed. Polite, a bit playful, helpful. It almost made Danny jealous, of himself no less. It felt ridiculous and added a tremendous amount of strife to keep you from seeing anything incriminating. He found himself exhausted as he parked in front of his house, rolling his neck, allowing it to crack loudly. The brunet huffed and took a quick glance at your home. He stopped when he noted something…off. Danny knew your schedule to a T, even if it was a bit sporadic sometimes. The typical times you woke up, what you tended to have for breakfast, hell, he knew how you did your laundry. So seeing all the lights off, curtains drawn so tightly, it sent his nerves alight. Curiosity mingling with…worry? "God, I'm pathetic." Danny huffed as he made his way over to your home. He knew every exit, every lock, every shaky window. Your front door being locked didn't deter him at all. It felt odd doing this in his work clothes, however. With skill and practice, he jumped over your small fence and approached the side door that lead into the garage. Its lock was old and rusty, easy to jiggle out of place. The man let himself in. There wasn't a sound he could discern, no TV or kitchen noises. He shook off the idea that he was concerned for you and chalked it up to only being perplexed by the sudden change in your behavior. Even spaced steps lead him to the door that went from the garage to the main portion of your home, as he walked in silently, he could faintly pick out your humming. He carefully stepped down the hallway toward the sound, seemingly from the kitchen. The closer he got the more he could smell the heavy, chemical scent of bleach and peroxide. Turning a corner revealed the only light on in your home was the small light above your sink. One you essentially never used. For once, Danny showed a bit of apprehension as he went to the doorway to your kitchen. His breath hitched at the sight. A half-cleaned scene of carnage. Blood stained the tile and a few spots on the wall. Some spots were pink and streaked, clearly wiped over. Two bottles of bleach sat on your counter. Where he often had morning discussions with you. Caramel brown eyes looked to the corner where a body lay on trash bags. His coworker, the one he'd complained about. Stabbed so many times her torso barely resembled a body anymore. He tore his eyes from the corpse and finally looked at you. Sat on the floor, pleasantly humming a song he'd shown you from a high school mixtape, back turned to him. Wiping up a plethora of blood from your floor. Dressed in one of the aprons he, almost shamefully, had fantasized you in with nothing underneath.

It took you going to dip the rag in a blood-water bucket for you to notice him. There wasn't a moment of fear or panic. He watched you gasp and then smile sweetly, standing up. "Jed! I didn't know you were coming. I would've cleaned up faster." You said, stepping closer with an aura of peace & joy. Danny looked down at your face. Blown out pupils, a gentle gaze, he could practically hear your pulse. He glanced at the body in the corner. "Oh, right." You speaking made him look back to you. "I know you complained about her, and she was already upsetting me, so I figured I could get rid of her. You already work so hard. She shouldn't be making it any worse." Your explanation was affectionate. As if you'd done him a service… And indeed you had.

"So that's why you were busy today…" Danny smiled, allowing himself to tuck you closer by the waist. He felt bubbling pride at the way you didn't hesitate to melt. "You did a wonderful job, you know that? How about I help you clean up?" He asked softly.

"Then I can reward you."

Leatherface; Thomas Hewitt (A rough-edged soft-souled partner. A protector.)

The Hewitt family was always seen as odd in the tiny town of Fuller. Luda Mae was known as a hardass and Monty certainly seemed a bit off his rocker. Charlie was seen as a jack-ass, pretty rightfully so. But the member of that family that was most rumored about, most insulted, and most disputed? Thomas Hewitt. The baby pulled out of the trash. Luda swore he was her son and would go through hell to defend him. Anyone in Fuller who knew who Thomas was had an opinion, just about every single one of them was negative. It seemed that it was just his existence to be called ugly and stupid for the rest of his life. It got a bit better when he was pulled from school at age fourteen, but the rare time that the family needed to head into town, he could hear the muttering. However, unbeknownst to Thomas, for the longest time, there was one resident who didn't view him that way. Even when you never approached him, your opinion had never changed. You'd viewed Thomas from afar for the longest time. Usually in class when you two were younger. It crushed you when he suddenly stopped showing up. You hadn't forgotten him once despite having yet to see him again. He often plagued your thoughts, even now as a young adult, working for your family. It was easier to do than trying to get a job anywhere else. Cleaning the little shop run by your father now took up a large portion of your time. The world seemed pretty dull. Keeping to yourself and day dreaming about the boy you'd never had the confidence to approach as a child.

And then, like the heavens opened up to hear you, a somewhat familiar woman wandered into the store. Ms.Hewitt. You didn't approach her right away, simply listening to her discuss what she needed from your father. You winced when your father demanded more money. Followed by Luda asking for a favor, it was all the money she had. "I'll cover the rest." You said, setting the broom against the service counter. Luda Mae blinked in awe at the sudden act of kindness and you brushed off your father's arguments. "Just give this woman the food crates, pa. It's not like they're sellin' extra well anyway." You retorted, setting some money in the register before turning to get the cart that held said crates from the back. Luda Mae found herself smiling, though it wasn't very wide, it wasn't any less genuine. "So, how we gettin' these into your truck, Ms.Hewitt?" You asked as you dragged the cart out the door. "Oh, I brought my boy Tommy. He can handle it." She explained. Unbeknownst to her, your heart began to soar.

It was then that you watched the long-lost muse to your dreams get out of the truck. He'd grown so much. At least 6'4" now, if not taller. You swallowed as you watched him saunter over, a mask covering his face. He took only a second to glance at your face before he looked down, almost ashamed. "Well, he seems like he can handle the heavy lifting, that's for sure." You commented almost playfully. It made Thomas's attention flick for a moment. "That he can." Luda replied. Finally, after years, you managed to look Thomas in the eye and give him a smile. Something you used to be so fearful of. "Nice to see you doin' well, Tommy. Missed you when ya left school." You were confident he wouldn't really remember you. Even if he had noticed the quiet kid at the back of the class, your newfound confidence almost made you seem like a new person. Still, you felt the words needed to be said.

That day made such a difference. Luda remembered you and anytime she had to make a run to town, with Thomas or not, she'd make sure to clue you in on the family happenings. News about Thomas especially. Never before had someone regarded her son with such kindness, and she was intending to try and keep it. Naturally, word got around Fuller, and you became subject to some public ridicule. Much to your father's annoyance. He took his reputation very seriously, so hearing you had been heading out to the Hewitt house didn't go over well. But, as an adult, he couldn't force you anywhere. You remained there even when Fuller's population began dwindling. Staying in the tiny house about a mile from the Hewitt home despite your family's arguing.

And when the meat plant went out of business, Thomas and Luda were insistent that "Hoyt's" idea stay in the family. That not a word of it reached you. Lest you see Thomas as a monster like everyone else. Charlie & Monty didn't care for you. Harshly opinionated and far from submissive, but Luda refused to get rid of the only person that regarded her precious Tommy with such adoration. And then one day, you showed up unexpectedly, with some canned produce you felt they could use. Staying longer than the family wanted you to. You were about to ask where Thomas was when rapid footsteps and a scream resounded from the basement. Naturally, you turned to look. A bloodied woman arising from the steps and the rev of a chainsaw. Luda felt her heart sink at what you seeing this meant, Hoyt silently rejoiced that this meant he could get rid of you. Thomas was caught off guard by the sight of you, and it gave the fleeing woman ample time to jab him in the thigh with a screwdriver.

"Damnit boy! Pay attention!" Hoyt demanded as the girl went running again. There was nothing in the way of the front door, nearly home free. Bleeding, panicked, but all she had to do was run. She'd be home free.

The sound of something swinging, a blade colliding with bone and tissue, a choking-bubbling sound, and the dripping of blood on wood floor. The house fell oddly silent as the Hewitt family looked at you. Holding an axe grabbed off the wall, the rusted blade implanted deep in the woman's skull, face rather blank. You glanced up at Thomas, then his thigh. With a gasp, you let the body drop and rushed over, disregarding the blood on his hands and the chainsaw he held. "Tommy! Goodness, that's got to hurt like hell! Here, sit down, we need to get that out and disinfected. I don't want you gettin' sick." You insisted, gently pushing him to sit in a dining room chair. Not leaving any time for the family to process what they'd watched you do as you doted over Thomas. Said man however watched you with wide eyes, some of it shock, but so much of it adoration. He'd been so afraid that you'd flee from him if you ever saw what he was doing. Yet you didn't hesitate to keep his family safe and care for him. You pecked his cheek as you got the first aid kit, his breath stuttered in response. "If you're gonna be gettin' your food this way, you're gonna need to be more careful, Tommy. I don't want to see a single drifter put their dirty hands on you again." You said as you held his face tenderly. Whether Monty or Hoyt liked it, you were very clearly staying.

The Shape; Michael Myers (A childhood friend, loyal follower. An Accomplice)

When you arrived in Haddonfield as a kid, the last thing you wanted to do was make friends as your parents so insisted. You'd moved so much and every time you were always rejected by your peers. Then your mother forced you to meet the neighbor's son. A small blond boy, only a year older, with blue eyes so dark they resembled the ocean's abyss. He was offputting and quite frankly rude. Always so blunt the few times he'd spoken. Yet somehow, the universe seemed to shove you two together more and more. Much to your dismay, you found you had far more in common with the boy than you had with anyone else. So you allowed yourself to tolerate him.

Then, with things like bullies, your mother's pressure to live up to her standards, and then your father's growing absence? He seemed to be the only thing stable enough to keep you above water. Finding it easier to cling to him, despite his growing behaviors that clearly caused concern. Overlooking things like pictures of dead animals and ultimately the admission he'd thought of killing someone. It broke you apart the Halloween he finally decided to do it. Having him dragged away from you in a cop's car, sanctioned away from society for over a decade. Not once would your mother allow you to find him, even forced you to leave Haddonfield's safety. The first town you ever genuinely settled in.

Michael's presence remained a key fixture in your life well into adulthood. Never straying from the idea that he'd come back to you. Leading you back to Haddonfield, leading a bland life, a lonesome one. Why bother knowing anyone else when they weren't him?

And then Halloween came once again. Immediately followed by bloodshed, life broadcasts of new bodies being found, the ramblings of a doctor swearing he knew who was behind it all. You'd been out at the time. Leaving a job's late shift, weaving past giddy children on the sidewalk. You loved Halloween and it always ached to experience it alone again. It was when you turned to take a shortcut that you felt the weight of a stare fall on your shoulders. One so oddly familiar and distinct. Turning revealed an impossibly tall man, broad shoulders, dressed in a stained mechanic's suit and a white mask. A bloodied knife in his hands. Fight or flight arose, steadying yourself to run, only for something particular to catch your eye. His knife. A large switchblade with a decorated handle, blue and black. One that used to settle in the hands of your best friend. "Michael?" You uttered under your breath.

He staggered when you unconsciously rose your bracelet. As if to rest if he'd remember it. And it worked, he didn't kill you. Though he certainly wasn't the Michael he was when you were kids, it didn't matter in the slightest. Despite every change, enough stayed the same to ignite the flame in your chest. You snuck him into your home, patched up wounds, and scrubbed away evidence. Managing to keep him safe under your roof even as he continued his rampage. You knew fully what he was doing. You didn't care. Not when you, out of all the people he'd killed mercilessly, you were the one allowed to wash his hair. Make him food, clean his suit, sharpen his knife. He allowed you to see his unmasked face, lean into his side with a movie playing, see the faint playful side that he swore he lost long ago.

But he was on the run, and with the continued homicides, people were bound to go poking around. One of them being a rather snoopy neighbor, a man who'd shown interest in your aloof nature. Mysterious, as he called it. He was pushy and never seemed to take a hint or a no. Hence how why he ended up in your house, allowing himself in despite your attempt to stop him at the door. Ruining a perfect night with Michael.

"You need to leave." You insisted again, gritted teeth and burning anger. "Oh relax, I'm just checking in on you! There's been a maniac going around stabbing people, you live all alone. Don't you want someone around to protect you?" It was more a statement than a genuine question. You clenched your fists and ground your teeth together. Anxiety high. Michael was still in the house, if this idiot saw him, it could mean the end of your peaceful moments with the man you'd built a life around. "I don't need anything from you. Get out." You repeated. Your neighbor scoffed a little laugh. Turning around casually. "Man, it's almost like you want to get murdered..." His voice trailed off and his shoulders tensed as his gaze fell on the Shape. Standing at the end of the hall. Mask and all. Your blood pressure rose with your adrenaline as the realization settled over your neighbor. It all went so quickly. Michael took a step forward and your neighbor turned to run. You did the same, but not for the same reason. The fool neared the front door only to be stopped by what you held in your hand. Having cut him off via using your kitchen. His throat landed right into a sharpened blade kept on the counter from dinner. Your heartbeat filled your ears as life left the man's body, sliding off the knife and falling back on the floor, face now permanently locked in a state of fear. You stood with shaky breaths and a tight grip on the knife. Slowly rising your gaze to look at Michael who stood in front of you, taking in what you'd just done. There was no guilt. He watched you take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Mikey, can you get rid of him? Far from here? I can't have the cops seeing anything like this near you..." You asked, voice a saccharine whisper. Michael raised his chin slightly before stepping forward. Like the man weighed nothing, he picked the corpse up and hoisted it over his shoulder. Your posture relaxed and you graced him with a smile. "I'll have brownies for you when you get back." This didn't change anything. He'd still have a safe place with you. No one would take him, not again. Not ever again.

The Problem Child; Bo Sinclair (An unassuming face, sadistic urges. An Actor.)

Out of all three Sinclairs, Beauregard was the one that left the most for his own wants. Lester had to leave for his job daily, but it was rare to catch him strolling through the neighboring cities just to enjoy himself. And of course, Vincent never left. Bo liked to stay in Ambrose but every once in and while it got stuffy. So heading off to a bar or small diner was what he usually did. A small moment to himself to enjoy himself. It was there that he met you. A new bartender at a small biker bar. With a shiny smile and a good sense of humor, he didn't see any reason he couldn't indulge in a bit of conversation with you. Turning up his charm and dusting away his secretive sadism. Of course, he was a little surprised when one day you wandered into town. He didn't notice until you entered his shop. He left the garage and saw you perched up on the counter, flipping through a magazine he knew he had hidden in his truck. Then again, he bought it in an average corner store, you could've just bought one of the same copy. You glanced up and gave him a smile. "Pleasure seein' you again, stranger. How's business been?" You asked charmingly. You didn't allow him to answer though. "Pretty slow probably, last person to come by was two weeks ago, yeah?" Bo blinked at the comment. It was true, but how you'd known that was beyond him. He shook it off as a fluke. "Yeah, you need somethin' done, sweetheart?" He questioned. You nodded. "Oil check and a new set of front tires. Weirdest thing happened, looks like someone jabbed at them. Crazy huh?" You replied. Bo swallowed and nodded. He mumbled something about you bringing your car around, a bit of a struggle with such low air in the back tires but you managed fine. Bo went into raising your car. He wasn't entirely sure why he was keeping up like he was actually going to fix your car. You were alone, it would've been easy to just deal with you now. Though, he supposed it wouldn't hurt keeping you alive a little longer. You were good with conversation. So, you made yourself comfortable seated on one of the tables in his garage. You kept up a conversation while flipping through that magazine, little mutterings about things that had been happening since he last showed up at the bar. As Bo went to take off your tires, propping the car up off the ground, you began speaking about the wax museum.

"It's really impressive, yeah? The entire building is wax. Not to mention in this heat? Your brother's got to be stressed trying to maintain it." You said. Bo paused and his shoulders tensed. He glanced behind him. "Pardon?" He asked, a suspicious glare falling over his face. You looked up from the crinkled pages with a calm smile. "Vincent's his name yeah? You two make quite the impressive duo, really. Gotta say though. I think your methods are a bit more favorable. Maybe that's just the gun though. Y'all been hurtin' for bases though. You can't seem to keep'em, huh? Just last week you had this pretty lil' red head so close to comin' home with ya." Your jovial tone and calm smile sent Bo on edge. Something rather difficult to do. His fist clenched around the X-wrench he held, patiently waiting for you to finish so he could just...whack you? Probably a poor plan but it was the best he had. "Honestly, I was surprised. But can't say I wasn't a lil' happy when she marched her happy ass away from you. Playin' hard to get and all? Annoying, right? Especially when I'm sure your brother could use her as a, hm, maybe a nun in the church? Or do you think she'd fit better as a cashier in the boutique?" You leaned forward a bit. Bo's eyebrow raised and his grip on the tool loosened a bit. Now more curious than on edge. You hummed at his lack of verbal response. Just then, a sound signaled from the back of your car, making Bo's gaze snap to it. He then glanced back at you with shock. You merely shrugged. "Eh, I'm sure you two can figure it out." Bo didn't respond to you as he popped the trunk. Barely conscious and bound, the redhead he'd failed to lure back to town. He looked back at you again as you picked up the magazine. "Oh, and by the way? The lock on your truck is a bit shotty on the back left door. Might wanna work on that." You added cheekily. After a moment to process everything that had just been laid out, Bo gave a little amused huff. He shut the trunk of your car and shook his head. "Darlin', you seem a bit off your rocker." He spoke. "Crazy even." You threw your hands up in mock surrender. "Only for you, big guy.~" The edge to your tone made his blood burn. He sighed and adjusted his hat. "Well if that's the case, maybe I can talk my brother into keepin' ya. After all, you've been a big help" He smirked at the way your pupils expanded. Bo was a playboy, he'd been able to charm just about anyone he wanted. But the crazier the person, the more fun it was.

#slasher x reader #slasher memes #slasher #slasher community #dead by daylight ghost #ghostface #dead by daylight ghostface #danny jed olsen johnson #bo sinclair #house of wax #michael myers #halloween #thomas hewitt #texas chainsaw massacre #dead by daylight #slasher fucker #yandere #rob zombie michael myers

[jellogram]

WRITING TIPS FOR PEOPLE WITH ADHD

You guys liked my other post with writing tips, so I thought I'd make a list for this too. I have ADHD combined type and I've written two novels and dozens of short stories, so here is what works for me!

If you have meds, take them a while before you start working and do something else. I like to play dress up games while I wait for them to kick in, because it's creative enough to wake up my brain. Doll Divine has really cool and artistic games. Only use activities that have clear end points so it's easier to stop when your meds have kicked in. Stay away from open world games or anything with an endless scroll.

Have special locations that you only use to write. Make sure you bring a flannel or jacket in case the AC is too cold, and bring headphones in case there's noises there. Try several different places until you find something comfortable. I like casual spaces where there's nooks and comfy chairs. Coffee shops are my go-to.

If you can't leave the house, sit in a particular spot in your room and make that your writing spot. Only sit in that spot when you're writing.

Speaking of headphones, rainymood.com is my go-to for drowning out noise. Usually I like background chatter, but if there's a buzzing fan or someone talking too loud on the phone, this site helps.

Start by re-reading what you wrote last time and making small edits. You might have to read it a few times before you can pay attention and that's okay. Just keep re-reading and making edits as you notice them until you feel more in the zone.

If you are at home, take breaks to put on music and jump around. I like Latin music for this purpose. If you're in public, try just walking around the building a couple times.

If I really can't get into it, for some reason it helps to take a break and make some tea. Green tea with ginger is calming enough to help me focus while also having a little boost of caffeine.

If you notice big changes need to be made and you can't relax until you deal with it but know it would take ages to fix, put it in a comment and move on.

If you want to get a big distracting section out of your way without totally deleting it, you can use a separate doc and copy paste it in there. Or download the SideNote add-on for Google docs.

Set reminders on your phone to eat and go to the bathroom in case you get too hyperfocused. I've forgotten to eat for entire days because I was writing, so it's good to have a back-up in case you go down the rabbit hole.

If you start getting really frustrated that you can't focus and you feel like you want to scream, take a break. Get a snack. Play sudoku. Make some coffee or tea. Sit outside. Be wary of checking your phone though, because it's easy to get wrapped up in that.

I tend to put all my usual fidget toys somewhere I can't get to them when I'm writing, because I find that if I pick one up to think, I can't put it back down to start typing. Everyone is different but look out for that and if you find them distracting you, set them aside.

Consider turning off your phone. If that's not an option, a lot of phones have a wellness feature that allows you to set app timers or turn your screen black and white. Consider setting your phone to go into wellness mode when it's time to write so it's less tempting.

Lastly, there are going to be days when it just doesn't work. Even with my meds, I sometimes just spend three hours beating my head against a wall and then go home. It's okay. Creative work is hard for anyone, especially when you're fighting your ADHD every step of the way. Don't beat yourself up and don't let it discourage you. Even if you didn't put anything down, you still spent some time thinking about writing, and that's worth something. Try again the next day and the day after and you'll get it eventually. The flow state is worth trying for.

Update: bolded some important items for accessibility

#writing #writing tips #writing help #writers #adhd #writing with adhd #adhd study tips #adhd studyblr #tips for writers #writeblr #studyblr

[scary-grace]

Love Like Ghosts (Chapter 10) -- a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

You knew the empty house in a quiet neighborhood was too good to be true, but you were so desperate to get out of your tiny apartment that you didn't care, and now you find yourself sharing space with something inhuman and immensely powerful. As you struggle to coexist with a ghost whose intentions you're unsure of, you find yourself drawn unwillingly into the upside world of spirits and conjurers, and becoming part of a neighborhood whose existence depends on your house staying exactly as it is, forever. But ghosts can change, just like people can. And as your feelings and your ghost's become more complex and intertwined, everything else begins to crumble. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13

Chapter 10

There’s something wrong with your house, but you knew that when you bought it. As summer ends and the neighborhood kids go back to school, it begins to feel like there’s something wrong with the neighborhood, too. Keigo and the others haven’t found Dabi’s conjurer yet, and with school back in session and two of the former ghosts in the neighborhood going to and from the same place five days a week, the likelihood that the conjurer will find the neighborhood before he’s found and killed feels higher than it should be. You’re worried about that, distantly. If Garaki comes here, it won’t be you he’s after.

You and Aizawa are monitoring any mention or recurrence of any of the aliases Tomura’s conjurer has gone by, but there’s no sign of him. It also seems to have been a long time since he summoned and bound a ghost. You got sick of running messages back and forth between Aizawa and Mr. Yagi, so you finally introduced them, and through a mix of Aizawa’s contacts, Mr. Yagi’s contacts, and former and current ghosts Hizashi knows, you were able to determine that nobody’s created a new haunt in at least a decade. “I don’t understand,” you said. “Did it go out of style or something?”

“It became too dangerous, most likely.” Aizawa turned to his copy of the map and began marking through former haunts, until the entire map was marked in red. “All of these were destroyed by Mr. Yagi and his master. Any conjurer summoning a ghost in this country over the past hundred years was taking a significant risk.  Why would they do that when they could just leave?”

“Would they just leave?” You looked to Mr. Yagi.

“It’s possible,” Mr. Yagi allowed. “My master and I did our job well. Even if we missed one.”

“There was nothing to miss. In spite of his overall unpleasantness, Tomura has yet to truly harm anyone,” Aizawa said. Mr. Yagi glanced meaningfully at you. “That doesn’t count.”

You weren’t pleased with the characterization, but it wasn’t worth disputing. Regardless of what anyone in the neighborhood thinks about your relationship with Tomura, they’re at least pleased that it makes him easier to deal with and marginally more interested in helping the neighborhood defend itself. Tomura, meanwhile, notices less and less of what’s going on outside the property line. Most of his focus – all of his focus, really – is on you.

As far as you can tell, he stays incorporeal most of the day, conserving energy so he can materialize fully once you’re home. What happens when you’re home varies. Sometimes he follows you, marking your every move, asking questions about everything nothing, questions that lead and questions whose answers you can’t imagine he cares about. Sometimes he tries to help you with whatever you’re doing, because the sooner you’re done with it, the sooner you can focus all your attention on him. And sometimes he’s not interested in waiting for anything at all. Sometimes he follows you up to your room and pounces on you before you’re even finished changing out of your work clothes.

Today is one of those days, and Tomura’s gotten strategic. You wore a dress to work, with tights underneath because you’re paranoid about clothing malfunctions, and he doesn’t grab you until after you’ve taken them off. Then he pulls you away from your closet, pushes you down on the bed, and pushes your legs apart. This, or things like this, have happened enough that you can sort of keep your wits about you. “Tomura, the door –”

It shuts, keeping Phantom out. The two of you learned that lesson the hard way. Tomura pushed you down in the middle of the bed, but now he pulls you to the end of it, until your legs are dangling over the edge. They’re unsupported for only a second before he props them on his shoulders. It’s embarrassing that you’re so slow on the uptake, but when you figure it out, you sit partway up in shock, staring as Tomura grins up at you from between your legs. “What are you doing?” you ask weakly.

“What does it look like?” Tomura looks way too pleased with himself in the split second before his head disappears under your dress.

He’ll stop if you tell him to. Sometimes you do, and he always complains, but he never refuses. Your head is spinning, and you make one last effort to slow things down. “I can’t reach you from up here.”

His voice is muffled. “Wait your turn,” he says, and a moment later you feel an almost-experimental lap of his tongue against your clit. “I had to wait all day.”

The idea of a human man waiting all day for you to come home so he can throw you on the bed and eat you out is absolutely ridiculous. But Tomura’s a ghost, not a human. You’re not even sure where he got the idea of eating somebody out in the first place. “Have you –” you stutter as he licks again, slower and with more pressure than before. “Have you been watching porn?”

“What’s porn?” Tomura sounds thoroughly uninterested, which is a good thing for you. You don’t want to explain – well, at the moment you’re not good for explaining much of anything. Tomura’s hair tickles against the insides of your thighs, and his hands press eagerly into your hips. Your stomach lurches. “Stop moving. Why are you trying to –”

“The marks.” Your heart is hammering, your body torn between the impulse to lie back and spread your legs wider and the impulse to get up and run. “People will see them. They’ll see them and they’ll know –”

“I don’t care if people know.”

“I do. My friends – my boss –” It gets worse the longer you think about it. “I don’t want them to know what we do.”

Part of you wonders if you’re being ridiculous. You’re an adult, and if you were with a human boyfriend, everyone would assume you were having sex with him. Then again, if you were having sex with a human, you wouldn’t wind up with ghost handprints on your hips that your boss is going to see through your clothes. And Tomura’s not your boyfriend. “I only leave marks when I want to,” Tomura says. He emerges from under your dress, his hair messy and his mouth wet. “You have enough already. Nobody’s going to get confused.”

“So you won’t leave them here?” you ask, and Tomura shakes his head. “Oh. Um, thanks.”

He disappears under your dress again, and you lie back on the bed. The impulse to spread your legs wider is still there, and when Tomura runs his tongue over the length of your entrance before closing his lips around your clit, you give in without a fight. The house is alive around you, humming with electricity and creaking slightly in the early-autumn wind. It’s quiet in your room other than your own harsh, unsteady breathing and the increasingly obscene sounds emanating from under your skirt.

Tomura’s never done this before, so he doesn’t have any bad habits, and based on the direction his explorations take, he’s well on his way to developing good ones. Your entire body feels like it’s being tied in knots, knots that get tighter with every swipe of his tongue. You’re trying not to move, to arch your back or buck your hips. You’re worried that if he has to try too hard to hold you down, he’ll forget about his promise not to leave marks. But in your efforts to stay still, you completely forget about staying quiet.

At first it’s just quiet, desperate sounds leaving your mouth – little gasps, split up here and there with moans when he sucks on your clit or gives your entrance a long, slow lick that makes you wish for something, anything inside you. You could ask Tomura to finger you, and the thought sits fully formed on the tip of your tongue, only to disintegrate when he pushes your legs a little further apart and licks inside of you. The rush of heat that sweeps through you is almost overwhelming. “Tomura –”

“What?” He stops, which was absolutely not what you wanted to happen. You unclench one hand from the blankets on the bed to hit yourself in the forehead. “Am I doing it wrong or something?”

“N-no,” you stammer. You’ve gone from having to convince Tomura that his technique could use some work to having him ask on his own, which is really great for any time except now. “I just, um – no. You’re good. Really good. That’s why I said your name.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you say, wondering why his voice sounds like that. “I don’t want you to stop. Tomura, please don’t –”

You break off in a gasp. Tomura was never the most methodical about this, but he’s thrown himself back into it with an absurd amount of enthusiasm. You feel like you might pass out. It’s hard to think, but you don’t want him to stop again, so you talk, struggling to breathe. “You’re so good at this,” you manage to say. “You’re doing so well. I don’t want you to stop. Tomura, please – ah –”

His grip on your hips tightens. You think you hear him whine. But his lips close around your clit again, teasing you with his tongue, and you lose the ability to focus on anything else. Unclenching your hands from the sheets feels impossible, so you bite your lip instead, managing to restrict the sounds you make as you come to a few desperate moans. In the past you’ve had to tell Tomura to stop or push him away to avoid getting overstimulated, but this time he lets you go in a hurry, emerging from under your dress and scrambling up onto the bed. His mouth and chin are wet and there’s an almost frantic look in his eyes.

“Tomura,” you say, puzzled and breathless. “Are you okay?”

“Tell me again.” Tomura’s mouth presses against yours, and you taste yourself on his lips. He speaks without pulling away. “I did it right. Tell me –”

Now you get it. “You were perfect,” you say, and Tomura presses himself against you, grinding against your thigh. “You did such a good job. You made me feel so good, Tomura. Nobody’s ever made me feel like you do.”

It’s not empty flattery, as much as you might wish it was. You sit up, rolling Tomura from his side to his back and undoing his pants. His cock springs free, and like always, you’re surprised at how big he is – but the few seconds you take to stare is too long for Tomura to wait. His hips thrust uselessly upwards, seeking your hands, and you oblige in a hurry, stroking idly while you look him over. His face is red, the color extending down his neck and beneath his shirt, and his blue-grey hair is glued to his neck and forehead with sweat. He has longer eyelashes than you thought he did. His eyes are dilated to the point where you’re shocked he can see. You’re sure you look like a mess right now. There’s no way you look anything close to this.

“You’re pretty,” you say without thinking. Tomura’s mouth falls open and a moan escapes him. His hips jerk frantically against your hands as you continue to stroke his cock, as you slide one hand between his legs to fondle him. “You’re so pretty, Tomura. And you make such pretty sounds, too. Listening to you the first time you touched yourself turned me on so bad. I kept imagining what you must have looked like – all sweaty and desperate and so, so pretty –”

Dirty talk never used to be your thing, and this barely counts, but the effect it has on Tomura is mesmerizing. He’s squirming on the bed, worse than you were by a long shot, his hands grasping the sheets or yanking at his shirt. You see his hand rise to scratch at his neck and you stop fondling him to pull it away. “You look even better than I imagined,” you say, holding his hand even as his grip tightens almost to the point of pain. “You look so pretty like this. And the way you sound – there’s nobody in the world who sounds as pretty as you do. You did so well for me just now. Are you close?”

The sound he makes in response is somewhere between a gasp and a sob, and you think, like you always do, that the two of you need to work out how to come at the same time. Touching him invariably winds you up again, and he’s too impatient to let you touch him first. “You’re so good, Tomura,” you say. You can feel the tension in his body increasing, the movements of his hips growing sharp and uneven, and you drag his hand to your mouth, speaking through his fingers. “You’re perfect.”

You usually try to contain the mess he makes with your mouth, but you’re slow this time, too busy watching him fight to hold onto his physical form in the face of an orgasm. Most of his cum winds up on your dress, although some of it ends up on your face. You can live with that, so long as you don’t have to change the sheets on the bed,

You wipe your face with your sleeve and lick your lips, working off a vague sense that it would be rude to wipe your mouth. Guys who want you to swallow get offended by stuff like that. “What does it taste like?” Tomura asks in that raspy, breathless voice that always winds you up.

“It doesn’t taste like anything.” You’re almost eternally grateful for that.

“What do you taste like?”

You cringe a little bit. “Not everything tastes like something else.”

There’s a pattern to things now. Tomura usually dematerializes for a while after the two of you are done, and you do whatever you need to do – showering, to start with – until he comes back. Then you negotiate about the rest of the night, Tomura wanting more, you reminding him that there aren’t unlimited supplies of life-force and doing more today imperils his chances for tomorrow. Most of the time you win. If the pattern is followed, he should be dematerializing right around now. You get up.

Or try to. Tomura grabs you and pulls you back. “Where are you going?”

“The same place I always go.” You try to peel yourself out of his arms, but it doesn’t work. “What? You’re not going to let me go?”

“No. You won’t let me go with you.”

“You don’t need to clean up,” you remind him. “You’ll be fine as soon as you dematerialize and come back.”

“I don’t want to.” One of Tomura’s legs hooks over your hip to hold you in place, another one of those weird things he does that reminds you he’s got no idea how straight guys are supposed to behave. “Don’t leave.”

You don’t want to deal with this right now. You need time alone after you and Tomura hook up to get your head screwed on straight, to remind yourself that this is insane and not normal, to keep it all in perspective. But your track record for getting away from Tomura when he wants to hold onto you is not good, and he’s never acted like this before. You let him pull you back onto the bed. At first he curls himself around you, almost like the two of you are spooning, but then he changes his mind, pushing and pulling at you until you realize that he’s after a complete switch in positions. “If you wanted to be the little spoon, you could just ask.”

“What’s the little spoon?”

“The person in the position you are right now.” You adjust your arm around his waist and press against him from behind. “This is called spooning.”

“Why?”

“Because it looks the way spoons look if you line them up properly in the drawer instead of just throwing them in.” You’re guilty of the latter, but in your defense, you’re usually in a hurry. Tomura makes a skeptical sound. “I’ll show you later.”

He’s cold, but you’re still overheated, and holding him like this helps you cool down. It would help you settle your mind if you weren’t still confused about why this is happening. You could ask Tomura, but when it comes to talking about how he feels, he’s a typical guy. It’s about the only thing about him that’s typical. Tomura doesn’t know what he’s supposed to want, and you have a feeling that he wouldn’t care even if he knew. He wants the things he wants, and while he’s not great at communicating them, you usually figure out where he’s going with it eventually.

It’s quiet for a while, and Tomura’s the one to break the silence. “Did you mean what you said?”

You don’t pretend you don’t understand what he means. “I meant it,” you say. You’re not an expert in praise kinks, but you’re pretty sure it doesn’t work if the praise is false. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.”

Something odd happens to Tomura then – he shivers, or his embodied form fails for a moment, and you instinctively tighten your grip on him. “Why do you ask?”

“You’re pretty, too,” Tomura says instead of answering. “Don’t leave.”

“I’m not leaving,” you say. You need to shower, but you can shower later. You adjust your arms around Tomura again and close your eyes.

You don’t mean to fall asleep, but you were up late last night and early this morning, and this afternoon’s hookup wore you out more than expected. You don’t sleep for long, but Tomura’s gone when you wake up. You’re curled up around the space where he used to be. You wonder how long it was before he left, and why it’s okay for him to leave you when you’re not supposed to leave him. You hate how lonely it makes you feel.

But you shake it off, like you do any time you start feeling that way about a ghost that can’t understand human feelings, and proceed with the rest of the night. And the rest of the night goes exactly like it usually does. You shower, start the laundry, start making dinner – and Tomura shadows you, angling for a second hookup. He’s getting strategic about that, too.

“You like it when I use my mouth,” he says. “Better than my fingers.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” You focus on the food you’re trying to cook, reminding yourself firmly that you’re hungry, not horny. You turn the question around on him. “Which do you prefer? Handjobs or blowjobs?”

“Handjobs,” Tomura says without hesitating. You blink. “You still use your mouth a little bit. And you can talk.”

“The talking really does it for you,” you muse, even though winding Tomura up is the last thing you should be doing if you want to eat dinner any time soon. “Interesting.”

“It’s not interesting. I like your voice.”

That’s not what you expected him to say. You set down your knife so you won’t amputate your fingers and focus on him. He’s looking away, scowling. “You talked to me. I couldn’t figure out how to talk back at first, so I listened. I like your voice.”

“I like yours, too,” you say. Then you think about drowning yourself in the sink and ask a question before Tomura can get too smug about it. “How soon did you talk to me after you figured it out?”

“As soon as I figured it out.” Tomura won’t look at you. “I messed it up the first time and you ran away.”

“You got angry. I didn’t know what you’d do.”

“I wasn’t going to hurt you. Or Phantom.” Phantom’s been poking around by Tomura’s feet, pretending she’s not hoping he’ll drop some food. Sure enough, he steals a piece of the carrot you just sliced and drops it on the floor for her. “I helped you before. You knew that.”

“I didn’t know what you’d do when you got angry.” You don’t want to have this conversation again. “I still don’t know.”

“But you’re not scared of me.”

“I’m not scared of you.” You startle as Tomura’s arms loop around your waist, as his chin notches over your shoulder. “You figured out how to talk just so you could talk to me?”

“I needed to learn anyway,” Tomura says. There’s a pause. “Yeah, I did. So what?”

“Nothing,” you say. Tomura thinks you’re pretty. Tomura taught himself how to materialize and talk so he could talk to you. It’s a good thing he can’t see your face right now. You’re finding it hard not to smile.

Your phone rings from the living room, and you go to investigate it. It’s Aizawa, so you pick up. “What?”

“One of the unbound ghosts has gone missing,” Aizawa says. “When was the last time you ran the search for Garaki?”

“Last week,” you say. You run the search every week. “Do you want me to run it again tomorrow?”

“Tonight,” Aizawa says. “I’m coming with you.”

“No,” you protest. “I can’t go in after hours. Mr. Yagi –”

“Call him and ask.” Aizawa hangs up the phone.

“Asshole,” you mutter, and you go ahead and call Mr. Yagi. He picks up on the second ring. “Sir, Aizawa’s worried about something and he wants me to check the database again tonight.”

“Of course,” Mr. Yagi says at once. You grit your teeth. “Update me on what you find, if you find anything. Izuku’s working on generating a map for all the conjurers on the list.”

“And Aizawa wants to come with me,” you add. “That’s not policy, is it?”

“Technically, the database is public record,” Mr. Yagi reminds you. “Just make sure no one spots you.”

“Yes, sir,” you say. You hope he can’t tell that you were hoping he’d say no.

Tomura follows you as you change into your street clothes, clearly unhappy. “Where are you going?”

“Back to the office. I won’t be long.” You stick your head out the front door and realize that it’s gotten colder since the sun went down. You find a hoodie and pull it on. “Aizawa’s just being paranoid.”

“He’s outside,” Tomura says. You don’t question how he knows that. “You didn’t eat yet.”

“I’ll eat when I get back,” you say. You lift your bracelets out of the bowl where you keep your keys and slide them on, then tuck your keys into your pocket before turning to Tomura. He’s either pouting or sulking. “Don’t do that. I’ll be home soon.”

Tomura’s frown deepens and he dematerializes, which annoys you. It’s not like you wanted this to happen. “I was going to give you a kiss goodbye, but since you’re going to be like this –”

“I’m not.” Tomura materializes again, right in front of you, and pushes you back against the wall for a kiss. You feel an odd tingling where his hands touch you and get the sneaking suspicion that he’s marking you again, but it’s only on your shoulders, and it’s not like Aizawa will be able to see it. Tomura draws away. “Go.”

You leave, your head spinning a little bit, and find Aizawa standing just outside the fence. There’s a suspicious-looking bag slung over his shoulder. “We’re not breaking in,” you say.

Aizawa ignores you. He gets into the passenger seat of your car as soon as you unlock it, and the two of you drive out of your neighborhood in complete silence. You’re not pleased with this, and the bad vibes Aizawa’s giving off prove that Tomura’s moods aren’t the only ones that can affect other people. You don’t speak until you’re halfway there. “So what’s up with this ghost who went missing?”

“They haunted an apartment building that came down fifteen years ago. They’ve stayed in the vicinity of their old haunt,” Aizawa says. “We sent Keigo and the others to speak to them, to see if they’d seen or heard anything. There was no sign of them anywhere in the city.”

“Which means – what?” you ask. Aizawa doesn’t answer, and it pisses you off. “They could have just left.”

“A ghost like that doesn’t just leave.”

“Maybe they decided to,” you argue. “Or they could have embodied themselves. There are a lot of things that could have happened that aren’t ‘they got snatched by a conjurer’. Can ghosts even be killed?”

Mr. Yagi said they could, but he also didn’t tell you how. “They can,” Aizawa says shortly. “If they clash with a being of greater power – another ghost, or a conjurer – their spirit can be blasted apart and scattered. Each shred retains some small piece of consciousness, but there are so many that there’s no way to piece them back together.”

“Conjurers can do that?”

“They threaten it when binding unwilling ghosts,” Aizawa says. “Eri and Magne both report receiving that threat, although it’s doubtful that Chisaki could have carried it out, given how easily Hizashi defeated him.”

You never appreciate a reminder of how strong Hizashi is. It makes it harder not to be scared of him. “The worst a conjurer can do to a human is kill them,” Aizawa continues. “The worst that can be done to a ghost condemns them to eternal torment. Most ghosts are hesitant to confront a conjurer, and the fear remains even once they’re embodied permanently. We were surprised that Tomura was able to convince Atsuhiro.”

You were surprised, too. But you’ve got something else on your mind. “So it’s just a power game. They clash and the strongest one wins,” you clarify, and Aizawa nods. “What if they’re equally powerful?”

“Then it comes down to a test of will,” Aizawa says. “The stronger-willed of the two will win, and in ghost-conjurer conflicts, the conjurer is the stronger one.”

“Why?”

“They’re human,” Aizawa says simply. “Humans don’t want to die.”

It’s quiet again in the car. You make the turn into the courthouse parking lot and choose a spot that’s hard to see on the security cameras. Aizawa speaks again as you’re turning off the engine. “If you’re worried about Tomura, don’t. There’s no conjurer on the planet stupid enough to cross your property line.”

“I’m not worried about Tomura,” you say. You’re lying. “What’s in the bag?”

Aizawa unzips it, revealing – “A gun?” you squeak. “There are metal detectors. You can’t bring that in!”

“The metal detectors are on the way into the courthouse, not the public defenders’ office.” Aizawa zips up the bag again. “Conjurers are still human. It takes a lot of ghostly power to stop a bullet.”

You were already unhappy about this whole thing. Now it’s worse. You pull up your hood and get out of the car. “Just keep it hidden. Mr. Yagi told us not to be seen.”

The two of you sneak across the parking lot, keeping to the shadows. If anybody spots you, you look suspicious as hell. You unlock the door to the office, lock it again behind Aizawa and yourself, and sneak through the halls until you reach your cubicle. “I’m just running the Garaki search again,” you warn. “Then I’m out.”

“Fine.” Aizawa leans against the wall behind you, scanning the office.

He’s acting like he thinks someone’s in here, hunting the two of you. It’s making you uneasy. You ignore it as best you can and focus on the search, cross-referencing both identities and coming up with the same points of connection as always. Then, because you got dragged out here and you might as well be thorough, you focus on the city Aizawa’s worried about and run a library search for public records-adjacent documents – the kind of things that are publicly available, but aren’t considered national government property. When you run the wider search, something pops up that didn’t before; a business license, for a clinic in the same city. You draw Aizawa’s attention to it and he pulls out his phone to search. Meanwhile, you keep looking. You find a record of property taxes on the location of the clinic, paid by check. There’s a scan of the checks attached, with the same name over and over again – Garaki Kyudai.

Aizawa swears. “He’s not listed as one of the staff – he’s listed as the clinic’s founder. It’s been there for decades. Long enough to have summoned that ghost.”

“Why would he kill his own ghost? I thought they avoided killing conduits.” There’s a newspaper article, a recent one. You try to open it, hit a paywall, and start looking for a way around it. “Have you heard from Keigo and the others since they said they couldn’t find the ghost?”

“No.” When you glance back at Aizawa, he’s got his phone to his ear.

You get around the paywall and start reading. The article’s about the sale of historic old house in the city, one that’s been in the same family – the Ujiko family, fuck – for over a hundred years. It went on the market last week, by order of the last descendent of the Ujiko family, and – “Aizawa, I’ve got a picture of him!”

“Print it,” Aizawa orders. You do, in color, and meanwhile, whoever Aizawa’s trying to call picks up the phone. “Keigo, where are you?”

You can hear Keigo loud and clear, even though he’s not on speaker. “We’re on our way home. Can you give us a ride back from the station? It was supposed to be Jin’s mom’s turn, but it got kind of late.”

Aizawa glances at you. “Sure, but somebody has to sit in the back,” you say. You hop up to retrieve the article from the printer and come back. “Ask him if there was any sign of ghostly power in the city. Specifically in the neighborhoods. Um –”

You scan the article, pass the name to Aizawa, and wait. “No,” Atsuhiro says into the phone. “We found nothing, not even traces. Why do you ask?”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll meet you at the train station.” Aizawa hangs up the phone and turns to you. “Garaki was there, now he isn’t, and a ghost is gone. We need to figure out where he went.”

“I’ll see if there’s a forwarding address.” You find the name of the realtor involved with selling the house, pick up your work phone, and make a call. It’s after hours, but a realtor selling a house this fancy might pick up.

Aizawa is tapping his foot, clearly impatient, while the phone rings twice, then picks up. You leap into the conversation first. “Hello, this is –” you check the article for the reporter’s name and borrow it as an alias. “I made an error in the article I wrote about the house and misquoted the doctor. Would you happen to know where I could get ahold of him to correct it?”

Realtors are a lot more gullible than you thought they were. You find a pen but not a piece of paper and end up scribbling the address on the back of your hand. It doesn’t look familiar, which is a good thing. “It’s not here.”

“We need to keep it that way. He’ll have to be lured even further away.” Aizawa slides the printed-out article into his bag. “For now, we need to retrieve the others.”

The two of you sneak back out to your car. You drive to the train station, sticking to the speed limit like your life depends on it, while Aizawa peruses the newspaper article for more details. “Garaki is older than we thought. At least old enough to have summoned Tomura – but he would have summoned Tomura before Dabi. It doesn’t make sense unless he lost a significant amount of power in the interim, which wouldn’t have happened if he was using Tomura as a conduit.”

“I don’t think it was him,” you say.

“The evidence is more compelling the other way,” Aizawa agrees, “but we can’t rule anything out.”

“If we can’t rule anything out, then we need to think about whether he’s Hizashi’s conjurer,” you say. You see Aizawa’s shoulders stiffen. “If he’s two hundred and fifty years old, he’s old enough to have summoned Hizashi, too – and since Hizashi wanted to escape the world between, he wouldn’t have had to try too hard.”

“Hizashi said no.”

“Hizashi said he doesn’t remember,” you correct. “If Garaki was his conjurer, too –”

“It’s immaterial.” Aizawa cuts you off. “If Garaki finds us, we’re all in danger. We’re almost to the train station, and we don’t have any solid conclusions. We shouldn’t tell the others until we’re sure.”

You don’t like this secret-keeping thing. “But you’re going to tell Hizashi.”

“And you plan to tell Tomura,” Aizawa retorts. You would if Tomura cared about this at all. “What happens in our respective households stays there. But there’s no reason to throw the entire neighborhood into a panic with news that Dabi’s conjurer is on the move.”

“Fine,” you say. “But we can’t sit on this for long. Two days and we’ll tell everyone what we know. Whatever we know.”

“Fine,” Aizawa says. He’s silent for the rest of the drive, until you pull into the train station parking lot and he sandbags you with this: “Keigo and I would be grateful if you encouraged Tomura to keep a lid on his – feelings. Dabi has next to no self-control, and Hizashi’s self-control, while impressive, is not up to this task. Some restraint on his part, or yours, would be appreciated.”

It takes you a second to interpret that one, and once you do, your face goes up in flames. Tomura’s apparently so horny that he’s making the two other non-asexual ghosts horny enough that their partners are asking you for help. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I, um – I’ll see what I can do.”

Aizawa leans his seat back and closes his eyes. “Good.”

The silence in the car after that is extremely awkward, and you’re grateful when Jin, Keigo, Spinner, and Atsuhiro all pile into the car. Rather than one person sitting in the back, all four of them squeeze into the backseat, with Keigo sprawled out across the other three’s laps. Spinner wants to tell you about the day’s events, Atsuhiro wants to sleep, and Jin wants to go to McDonald’s. Jin is the loudest one. You pull into the drive-through.

As much as you’re tempted by the fast food, you have food at home, and you’ve sort of lost your appetite. Fear over the threat of the conjurers, discomfort at the idea of withholding information from the rest of the neighborhood, and the sheer cringe of being told to make your ghost less horny will do that to you. It’s a relief to drop everyone off at their respective houses, Aizawa in particular, and pull into your own driveway.

The first thing you notice when you open the front door is the smell. It smells like food cooking, and it doesn’t smell burnt. Did Tomura let somebody else in the house to cook something? He must have, and the evidence gets stronger when you hear footsteps through house towards you. But when you look up, there’s no one there except Tomura, and Phantom trotting at his side. “Take your bracelets off. You’re supposed to take them off when you get to the neighborhood.”

You know that. You just forgot, because you were busy trying to convince Jin to let you stop the car before he got out. You slide them off your wrists and drop them into the bowl with your keys. “Did you let someone in the house?”

“Why would I let somebody in the house?” Tomura looks annoyed that you’d even consider it. “You had to leave before you were done cooking, so I finished it.”

“You – what?” You’ve heard terrible things about ghost cooking from everybody whose ghost gave it a shot. Even the embodied ones aren’t very good at it. “How?”

“I’ve seen you make it. I did what you do.” Tomura catches your wrist, fingers closing around the same spot where the bracelet was and pulling you along. “Come on.”

You were making soup before you left. It’s kind of hard to mess up soup, but then again, you’ve heard stories from Shinsou about Hizashi managing to mess up instant noodles. The kitchen looks sort of like a bomb went off in it, but none of the ingredients scattered around look wrong for the soup you usually make. When you peer into the pot on the stove, nothing strikes you as immediately wrong. “Are you going to try it?” Tomura asks impatiently. You pick up a spoon and dip it in. “Well?”

Your ghost can cook. Somehow you got the only ghost in the neighborhood that can cook – or at least the only ghost who can copy what their human did exactly enough that there’s little difference in taste. You retrieve a bowl and a ladle and fill it up, then switch off the burner and put a lid on the pot to trap the heat in. Tomura follows you as you head for the kitchen table. “I did it right,” he says. You nod. Your mouth is too full to talk. “I know how to make other things, too.”

You’re not sure you trust him with anything more complicated yet, or maybe at all. “Maybe we can work on it together. It’s probably boring for you to just stand there and watch me.”

“Watching you isn’t boring.”

That’s not what you were expecting him to say. “Oh.”

It’s quiet for a little while. Phantom comes to nap at your feet and you keep eating your soup, thanking your lucky stars that you skipped the fast food tonight. “I wish I could taste things,” Tomura says out of nowhere. You eat another spoonful of soup, burning your tongue in favor of displaying your shock. “I’d be better at it if I could.”

“Not necessarily. I can taste things and the things I cook still aren’t very good sometimes.” You’ve heard Aizawa theorize that the fact that former ghosts have tastebuds is what gets them into trouble with cooking – they judge taste by the strength of the flavor, and they can’t distinguish between flavors that are good and flavors that are bad. You focus on Tomura. “This is really good, though. Thank you.”

Tomura looks pleased with himself. “I know.”

You eat a second helping of the soup and put the rest away for lunch tomorrow, and then, even though it’s later than usual, you decide you want to watch something before you go to bed. It’s less that you want to watch something and more that you want to hang out with Tomura a little longer, but there’s no way you’re telling him that. The two of you settle onto your usual couch cushions, and Phantom hops up into her spot on the middle one, getting comfortable. You pass the remote off to Tomura. “I don’t care what we see. You pick.”

Tomura gives you a skeptical look. “You hate what I pick.”

You hated it when you thought it was giving him ideas. There’s no point now that it turns out he can get ideas all on his own. “Not tonight I don’t.”

Tomura’s always a bit like a kid in a candy store when he gets ahold of the remote. You watch the light flicker across his face as he scrolls through show after show and finally settles on the last thing you were expecting him to choose. “You don’t want to watch that,” you say.

“It says it’s a disaster movie. I like those.”

He does. One time you made the mistake of watching Twister and then had to spend the rest of the night explaining how tornadoes work – and then showing him videos on YouTube when he realized you didn’t know what you were talking about. “This isn’t that kind of disaster movie.”

“The ship sinks, doesn’t it?” Tomura doesn’t wait for your answer before he presses play on Titanic.

The two of you get through the opening of the movie in the usual fashion. Tomura keeps asking you questions, missing part of the movie while you answer, and then asking more questions about what he missed. It takes him a little bit to grasp the framing device. Ghosts don’t have the same sense of time as people do, and you have to explain why the same character is being played by two different actors a few times before he gets it. And then he’s confused, confused to the point where he makes you pause the movie. “Why is this happening? When is the ship going to sink?”

“We can fast-forward to that part,” you say, probably a little too eagerly. “Do you want to do that?”

“I want to know why this is happening.” Tomura gestures at the screen. “Do you know? Or is this like the tornadoes again?”

He’s never going to let you forget about that. You sigh. “All this stuff is happening because the filmmakers want the people watching the movie to care about the characters. To understand what they want and want it, too.”

“Why?”

“So it matters to you when the ship sinks with all these people on it.”

“How many people are on it?”

“Uh – around two thousand.”

“Two thousand?” Tomura looks floored, probably because he’s never seen a group of people larger than forty or fifty. “How many of them die?”

You probably know a little too much about this shipwreck for comfort. You were kind of a weird kid. “About fifteen hundred of them. Give or take a few.”

“How do they die?”

You should have known Tomura was going to fixate on the body count. “Let’s just fast-forward to that part.”

You’ve been fast-forwarding for about two seconds when Tomura stops you. “Go back.”

“Why?” you ask. Tomura gives you that dumbest-person-ever look. You hate that look. “Why do you want to watch all the boring stuff?”

“To see if they can make me care about it.” Tomura settles back onto his couch cushion, looking smug. “I bet they can’t.”

Now you get it. He’s decided it’s a game and he wants to win. You rewind back, resigning yourself to a whole lot of explaining over the next hour and a half.

But you don’t have to explain quite as much as you thought you were going to. Some of the things you thought Tomura would fixate on are nonevents, because he was summoned and bound to the house in the same era as Titanic sank. He’s not confused by the lack of phones or the weirdly elaborate clothes – when you look at the clothes he materializes in, the shirt and pants are similar in style to what some of the characters wear in the movie. After extracting some assurances from you that the movie’s going to go into lots of detail about how the ship sinks, Tomura starts asking other questions, usually about the characters. And sometimes he doesn’t have questions. He has opinions.

“That one is stupid. I don’t like him,” he says of one character. You ask him why. “She’s scared of him. I can tell. He gets in her space when she doesn’t want him to and he grabs her and pulls her around. You had to tell me that stuff, but he’s a human. He should know already.”

“He does know,” you say. “He wants her to be scared of him.”

Tomura looks like the thought’s never crossed his mind, which is ridiculous, given that he’s a ghost who was summoned specifically to haunt and terrorize people. “Aren’t they supposed to get married?”

“Yeah.” You unpause the movie and up the volume. The last thing you want is for Tomura to start asking questions about marriage.

You were worried Tomura was going to have a bunch of questions about the love story, but he keeps mostly quiet on that front, which is a relief for you. He also doesn’t spend a bunch of time talking about how stupid it is, which is less of a relief. Most of his annoyance is focused on the characters for caring about the diamond necklace that keeps getting passed around, because it’s a rock and it’s stupid that humans care about rocks that much. The only question he asks about the love story serves as yet another reminder that ghosts don’t understand humans very well. “Why do they treat that one that way?”

“Because he’s poor and they’re not,” you say. “They think you should marry your own kind.”

“They’re both humans. That’s the same kind,” Tomura says. “Humans are humans. It’s stupid.”

“Humans divide ourselves up by all kinds of stupid things,” you say. When you think about it, it’s a really long, really pointless list. “We kill each other over a lot of that stuff, too. Or we have in the past. People say this stuff is old-fashioned, but a lot of them still feel this way. They don’t say it like that, though. They’d say those two don’t have enough in common. Their life experiences are too different. That kind of thing.”

“Humans are stupid,” Tomura says. He looks weirdly unnerved. “The ship had better sink soon.”

The scene changes and you breathe a sigh of relief. “Yep. Right now.”

The disaster portion of the movie clearly lives up to Tomura’s expectations. He shuts up for the most part, focused on the screen. You have to admit that the movie does a good job of laying things out: Ship sinking, ship sinking fast, not enough lifeboats, water too cold, et cetera. You don’t have to explain anything at all. You’ve seen this one enough times that you don’t feel guilty zoning out, but you don’t realize you’ve fallen asleep until Tomura starts shaking your shoulder. “Why are they staying behind?”

You squint at the screen. “Women and children first.”

“Why?”

“I don’t really know,” you say. The rationale behind that was never clear to you, and if you can’t figure it out, there’s no way you’re going to try to explain it to Tomura. You don’t want a repeat of the tornado thing. “This is basically the only shipwreck in history where they did that, though. On most wrecks men took all the boats and the women and children drowned.”

“You’re a woman.”

“Yep.” You remember imagining how you’d escape from Titanic as a kid, then running the same thought experiment as an adult and realizing that you probably wouldn’t. “Anyway, I don’t know why they did it like that instead of the other way.”

“It’s stupid,” Tomura says. You flop over the arm of the couch and decide to forget about it.

You must be really tired, because you fall back asleep in spite of the noise from the movie. The next thing you wake up to is Phantom crawling onto your lap – or Phantom, still mostly asleep, being dropped onto your lap by Tomura. At first you’re confused, but then you feel the cushions shift as Tomura settles into the spot Phantom was in before. He’s moving quietly, trying not to wake you up, but you wake up anyway. “What –”

“Nothing. Shut up.”

You roll your eyes, and catch a glimpse of the screen in the process. The ship’s vanished. “The good part’s done. Want me to turn it off?”

“No,” Tomura says. Phantom makes herself comfortable in your lap. “Go back to sleep.”

He’s acting strangely. You pretend to go back to sleep, keeping your breathing even and your eyes mostly shut, alternating between watching the screen and watching Tomura on the cushion next to you. He’s still focused in spite of the fact that the ship’s already sunk. He usually gets focused at some point when he’s watching a movie, but this time, his expression’s different than the usual interest. He looks unhappy, but if he’s unhappy, why wouldn’t he let you turn it off? Why is he studying the screen like his existence depends on the outcome of this barely-a-disaster move? You let him think you’re asleep through most of the wrap-up, and take your time waking up when he starts shaking your shoulder again. “What does this mean?”

It’s the last scene. “Her ditching the necklace?”

“No. This stuff. Why is she on the boat again? It sank. And she’s not old anymore either. This doesn’t make any sense.”

“Oh,” you say. Suddenly you understand why he’s confused. “I guess it wouldn’t make sense to you. Ghosts don’t die.”

Aizawa told you they do, but he also called it eternal torment, not death, so you’re going to go ahead and assume that dead for ghosts and dead for humans are two separate concepts. Tomura looks pissed. “She’s dead?”

“She’s a hundred and one. Humans aren’t supposed to live that long.” You were faking sleep too convincingly, and now you’re actually tired. You smother a yawn. “This part – she’s dead. She died in her sleep. This is her meeting everybody again in the afterlife.”

“Is that what happens?”

You’re way too tired for this. “We don’t know. People don’t,” you say. You have a feeling ghosts might, but if Tomura knew, he wouldn’t be asking this question. “Some people think it’s like falling asleep. You’re just gone, forever. Other people think it’s like in the movie – when you die, you see everybody you love who died before you, and you’re all together forever. But like I said, we don’t know. And I don’t think about it too much. It’s probably the sleep thing, anyway. The other way would be too nice.”

You’re rambling. “Does that make any sense?”

Tomura dematerializes. That makes twice in one night. “Okay. Good talk.”

You switch off the movie before the theme song can really kick in and weigh your options. You could boot Phantom off your lap and head upstairs for the night, or you could twist around and fall asleep on the couch. You choose door number two, stopping just long enough to pull your phone out of your pocket and set an alarm. You got a text from Aizawa about two seconds ago, too: When I asked you to address the situation, I didn’t mean to do it like this.

You don’t know what ‘like this’ means, and you’re too tired to care. You set your phone screen-down on the coffee table and go to sleep.

#lovhalloweenhorror #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #reader insert #x reader #shigaraki tomura #ghost story #loser nerd ghost boyfriend

[astranite]

Respite (Spun Glass and Golden Light)

Scott and John, or sky and star!

It's another long one at a bit under 5000 words! Tags copied from ao3 as look, I really should be asleep already.Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, theres a fair spectrum of emotions here, Brothers, Thunderbird Five (Thunderbirds), Nightmares, John is also pretty not okay here too as well as Scott but they are both working on it, space metaphors thrown in for good measure, Cuddling & Snuggling, because everyone needs a hug of course, another fic where John and Scott drink hot chocolate!, they are both also learning they can let each other in and Scott is realising this.

Many thanks to the fab @idontknowreallywhy for all the cheering on and wonderfulness!

---

“Do you want to come up to Five?” John asked.

Scott answered far too fast. “Yeah.” His voice broke in the middle.

John thought it would take more convincing, it always did to get Scott to accept anything approaching help. But this time…

He caught one last flash of blue eyes made bluer, meeting his and piercingly desperate, before the hologram shut off from Scott’s end and John was blinking away the after images in the suddenly dark comm hub.

Scott, in rumpled day clothes at 2:47am Tracy Island time, hair falling across his forehead in uneven waves of curls. Scott, whose dark circles under his eyes had startled John into thinking they were bruises, his sharpened features thrown in harsh relief by the dim lamp by dad’s desk. The hologram was fuzzy at the edges, all noisy static between him and his brother, but John couldn’t miss the way Scott looked over his shoulder like he expected something to be there. Or someone. 

Ghosts of his past, John thought, then shook himself.

Scott had nightmares, they all knew it. But he always pretended he wasn't shaken by what he saw. Tried to carry on like they didn't happen, like nothing ever happened, and Scott was as invincible as the legend he’d built around dad was.

John saw, more often than the others. There was a reason he monitored the villa feed for movement outside of usual hours when the rescue alarms hadn't gone off. 

He’d caught a few funnier moments for blackmail, namely Alan and Gordon attempting to steal storebought baked goods from the fridge and getting them mixed up with Grandma’s latest creations in the dark. Repeatedly, because they’d never figured out how Scott and Virgil conspired together to swap the containers.

But there were worse ones for all of their family. Nights Alan slept on the couch because being in his room, alone inside close walls was too much. Gordon making his subdued way through the halls, cheerful facade gone with gasps of pain unable to be stifled, going to get painkillers from the infirmary for his back. Kayo, prowling on silent feet, checking, triple checking security feeds for any slightest threat, not able to believe in the safety of their island anymore. Jagged notes of piano, near silent from keys barely pressed, while Virgil had tears on his face. 

And Scott, of course Scott who had it the worst of all of them, who was the bravest of them but couldn't see it. Late nights, ending slumped ragdoll-like over endless paperwork from endless responsibilities put on his shoulders. Agitated pacing, wearing only socks so he wouldn't wake anyone, ragged breaths louder than his footsteps. The times when Scott was a trembling ball of tears, curled under dad’s desk where he barely fit anymore, hands over his head blocking everything out. 

Sometimes John talked to them, offered company and comfort, other times he let the moments pass silently. He was used to witnessing things he could never speak of again; his own moments of pain rarely had anyone but he made sure his siblings’ did, just in case they needed someone reaching out for them.

Watching over Scott in particular to make sure no harm came to him was an unsaid duty John took as his own. Virgil was there in the day, with him on the ground during rescues, but John amongst his stars kept the nights within his reach. 

He’d already sent the space elevator down and now he waited, marking careful timings as Eos quietly spoke them. Scott was suiting up. Scott was finishing pre-launch checks. Scott had reached the Kármán line, the beginning of space.

John drifted through a gravity-less Five, switching to lights that gave off a soft, golden glow. They filled the Thunderbird up like she was one of those ancient incandescent bulbs, long since obsolete. Like she was delicate spun glass as well as cahelium strength, two opposites the same, together complete where glass could break and cahelium bend. She was different from her sister ships, a different purpose and way of approach, but in the end she was the same. Rescue. Salvation. Pulling them all back from the void. 

He couldn't take the nightmares away, the fear and pain scarred deep in his brother’s bones, but he could offer respite. Warmth and light and safety, with some distance from it all. A set of arms to hold Scott close and a shoulder to cry on when it was needed. It was something, it was everything, in the rare times Scott could reach out and take it. 

And John needed it too. He could watch over Scott from afar, he always would, he couldn't not. But he also needed his big brother close enough that he could feel his heartbeat, how his chest rose and fell with each breath, not just as numbers on a screen, but here and real and close. Maybe he wasn't the touchiest person generally, but his brothers wrapped up in a hug or sides pressed together where they sat, their soft voices in the bubble of quiet, that meant safety. With only arm’s reach to check if they were okay, especially for looking out for Scott. There was a reason that otherwise he had to have all of the data. But right now he needed Scott.

John waited for the familiar clunk of the space elevator docking, for Eos to give the all clear for her checks for the airlock being correctly pressurised, before the doors opened. 

They silhouetted Scott in their frame, stuck halfway between the warm lights of Five and the cooler, harsher ones in the space elevator. 

Scott hesitated, like he always did here, a hand blue-gloved in space issue suit gripping the edge of the airlock. 

John opened his arms, because Scott needed this as much as he did. They were the same this way.

He was met by a brother tumbling towards him, clumsy out of their element, in a crashing hug. For a moment, John almost expected it to be Alan, eager and young, those blue eyes— But Alan was nearly as graceful up here as John these days. And his eyes didn't hold the same nightmare bright intensity and John hoped they never would.

Scott hit him in a collision of bodies and John had to stop their combined momentum, a foot finding a wall to slow them until his shoulder slammed into a bulkhead cabinet anyway. Automatically, he wrapped himself around Scott. 

“Just a bit of a bump, nothing that hasn’t happened before. You gotta have a lighter touch when you kick off in micrograv,” John said cheerily. Scott was still mumbling repeated apologies under his breath. 

John took the moment, in spite of his words, to just cling to Scott, like Scott was clinging to him, burying his face at his brother’s neck. A moment, a minute, a respite. 

Finding handholds on Five’s inner surfaces was as easy as it was familiar. John could find every one of them blind, oxygen-deprived, with no Earthly directions as a frame of reference. He had, before. 

He shifted to get his fingers around Scott’s wrist, a quick tap on his hand to warn Scott first, then Scott’s locking around his own in a rescue grip, to pull them through a quietened Five as one. 

To the galley. Hot chocolate wasn't quite the same when it came in a foil pouch with a straw as opposed to Earth’s ceramic mugs, but it was chocolate and you could still warm your hands around it.

John made up two, passing one off to Scott where he hung about against what was nominally the wall, though the orientation didn't matter without gravity’s bounds. 

“Thanks.” Scott tried for a smile. He was still gripping the hand hold with the white-knuckles-beneath-gloves grip of someone unused to being without gravity and scared to drift away. 

John settled on the ceiling in arms reach, with just his toes tucked under a bar. 

Quiet lulled between them. John’s favourite type of quiet, with just the soothing hum of the life support systems, the ever-present undercurrent of Five, and their own breathing. 

Technically, it wasn't hot chocolate, but nutritionally-complete chocolate-flavoured drink didn't have the same ring. It wasn't the same as a proper meal but a stressed Scott barely ate, John wasn't exactly sure how many hours had passed but it’d be too many if he counted, and right now Scott needed something sweet and calorie-dense and easy to get into him. 

It was fine until Scott shifted, his hand slipping momentarily with a sharp intake of breath and that all too familiar flash of panic swiftly hidden. Except up here that split second where he flailed before freezing up and stopping himself sent him into a spin. 

John caught Scott’s outstretched arm to steady him. He moved next to Scott with a graceful twist to be against the same wall so Scott could hold onto him. Taking the hot chocolate from him, John gently guided Scott’s hands, one to the grab bar, the other to his baldric. 

“You can’t fall up here, not really. Even if it feels like it sometimes,” John said. Reassured. Because this was his sleep-deprived big brother he was talking to, not the perfectly put together Commander.

Scott’s eyes searched his face, latching on to John’s with the same unbreakable trust that let John lead on missions where he could see more from above and Scott actually listened. 

“Okay,” Scott said, like it was that simple, like anything in their lives was simple. Because he believed John.

They were close enough that John could see how the strands of Scott’s hair were matted together by old gel not yet washed out. More grey was flecked around his temples, his hair surrounding his head in a floating halo from the lack of gravity and the way it caught the light. 

Scott flinched at the soft click-rush-clunk of ventilation systems cycling as they should be, a sound unusual for Scott but not enough to normally be a threat. Scott’s fingers tightened on John’s baldric. 

Both of them breathed slowly and carefully, to a steady rhythm of calm until the moment passed.

With how Scott was obviously still struggling with the lack of gravity, John quietly decided to make it easier for him when he wouldn't ask.

“Eos? Gravity back on please,” John murmured aloud to ensure Scott had some warning. 

The lights around her camera blinked, flashing to a sunset tone in acknowlegement. 

“Will do, John,” Eos said.

The gravity ring mechanisms whirred as they accelerated to the appropriate velocity, providing a force at what would soon be slightly less than Earth standard gravity.

“Hello, Scott Tracy,” she added in greeting. John had noticed they’d been getting on better recently, he was glad of it.

Gently, he guided himself and Scott until their feet touched the floor. Until they could sit next to each other on the ground, cross-legged with their knees bumping, to finish their hot chocolates.

When Scott slumped with relief, letting out a long, shaky exhale, John knew he’d made the right call. 

They stared out at the stars now ‘below,’ stretching out into infinity. Always captivating. 

Scott hadn't looked out there, eyes carefully averted until he’d shuffled even closer to John, and John had tucked an arm around him to hold on. Because while Five and her warm glow, her connection to everything meant safety like any Thunderbird did, for Scott the gaping void of space held only danger and the need for rescues. Only with John it became their sky again, like they were stargazing on the roof of the farm house on Earth, far beneath them and years ago.

“You want to talk about it?” John asked softly, an opening so that Scott knew he could share and he’d listen.

“Uh. I don’t know. Maybe?” Scott’s usually well hidden uncertaintly bubbled to the surface.

“I’m here for you. Either way it’s okay,” John reminded gently, because Scott needed to hear him say it aloud even though it was always there implicitly. 

“Nightmares. It was the snow again.” It was a sign of how far Scott had come that he would talk about what was on his mind, instead of burying it deep inside in a misplaced attempt to protect them. John found Scott’s hand and gently squeezed it.

Scott shuddered, continuing, “Probably from the rescue the other day, the entire mountainside came down. But it was with all of you guys instead and it looked more like the skii slope from the avalanche and mum, but I was too late and I couldn't save you, there was nothing I could do, you were all gone and I was alone—”  Scott’s voice rose, distressed. 

John could feel him shivering against his side, had only to glance to see the tears building in the corners of Scott’s eyes, the way he had his teeth sunk into his trembling lower lip, the same as he always did when he was trying not to cry. John’s heart broke at that, it always did. He gripped Scott’s hand, tightened the arm around him in a wordless effort to make sure Scott knew he wasn't alone, John was here and he wasn't going anywhere.

Scott took a deep breath and went on. “I know it wasn't real, but it felt like it.” 

John made a quiet, empathetic noise. In the moment, in the haze where the lines blurred between sleep and wakefulness, nightmares did feel real. And in the sick feeling after when you just couldn't shake it. He’d been there too.

John could imagine the warmth of Scott’s hand through their space rated gloves as Scott squeezed his. “No matter what happens I’ll always fight for you all and I know you’ll all do everything you can to make it back home to me. And we have systems and procedures in place, and better equipment designed for bad conditions, and everything to make sure that never happens. But it still scares me,” Scott admitted.

“It scares me too.” Usually he didn't say that part aloud though with the work they did and the consequences they saw it never hadn't been in mind. “But we hold onto hope and each other and never let go.” John’s voice came with a fierceness he hadn't quite realised was still buried inside him. They had to believe in it. Or they were already broken.

“We’re Tracies. We’re not going to stop trying to make it home.” Scott returned with a fire John had missed before he dropped quieter but no less determined. “All of us. Even— even me.”

John hung onto him because he knew how long it had taken, how much it still took for Scott to say those words. To mean them. 

He pressed his forehead against Scott’s temple. The fear of losing Scott to his own sacrificial, heroic recklessness bit at John even now, along with the need to somehow protect him from the world. 

But they both were alive, here and now, in spite of the odds so far. 

Scott leaned into John.

The feelings, the fears were there, but together up here amongst the stars they lost enough of their power that they could sit with them and they would soften, the raw edged terror of nightmares washing away.

Five was a bubble of light surrounding them, sheltering them from both the void of space and all that was outside. He and Scott were wrapped up in their own little world, as tiredness itched at John’s eyes and Scott lay his head on his shoulder. John pulled his big brother closer, not that there was really any space between them anyway. They were safe as much as was possible in this big, vast world. More importantly, they were here together. 

John waited, not wanting to break the moment for as long as possible, wanting in a childish way to stay here with Scott forever, until his legs were numb and achy from sitting on them, until his eyes were threatening to slide shut, until Scott’s weight against his shoulder was resting heavily against him. Even then he was loathe to move. 

A gentle poke and repeating his name had blue eyes blinking sleepily up at him from how Scott was slumped. 

“Bedtime, big brother.” John trailed a hand through Scott’s hair, brushing back the stray strands fallen over his forehead.

“Mmmph,” Scott grumbled, tucking his face further into John’s neck.

Scott’s characteristic instant alertness come online a couple of seconds later and he pulled away. All for that he hadn't been properly asleep, merely content and dozy, a rare sight John treasured.

They walked, pressed shoulder to shoulder, to John’s tiny bedroom, tucked away on the nearer side of Five’s gravity ring. Reduced gravity made their footsteps lighter but the company did that too.

Scott hesitated at the door of the second cabin, mostly used on the occasions when Alan was up for training, put there because Five wasn't initially designed to be manned alone which John purposely didn't think about.

When Scott shrank a millimeter closer to John, John pretended not to notice the display of what Scott would call weakness in himself but never in anyone else, and nudged him with a casual, “C’mon. Puppy pile?”

“Does it still count without everyone?” Scott replied, following him though.

“Mmm,” John thought, “Yeah.” He knew he missed out on plenty on Earth too.

A hug pile of just them might be just what they needed. Both of them at this point. Memories of the whole family in a tangled, happy heap were some of John’s fondest and he knew that went for Scott too. But it was a lot and right now Scott needed calm and quiet to rest and not to feel as if he had to put on a brave face in front of everyone.

John pulled pyjamas out of his cupboard for them both, tossing an obligatory space pun t-shirt and pair of comfy sweat pants at Scott. Sharing clothes with Scott was easy given they had the most similar builds of their siblings, tall and slim, with Scott being slightly broader across the shoulders and John running more awkwardly lanky. IR space suits were comfortable but not the most for sleeping in, despite how often John ended up doing so.

They changed into pyjamas in silence, except for when John yawned midway through peeling his suit off, then Scott did too, causing them both to giggle in the way of the well past tired. 

John smiled to himself while he put on a pair of socks, watching Scott poking about his room, trailing fingers over the spines of his paper books, then inspecting the stickers on his window and the handful of glow-in-the-dark stars John had up here because they reminded him of home even with the real ones right outside. His big brother’s curiosity even over these tiny details of his life, a facet he didn't often see with John up in orbit so much, made him warm inside. Especially with the way Scott was so relaxed up here in what was John’s space, a stark contrast to earlier and the staticky comm feed. The dark circles beneath his eyes remained though.

With a jaw-cracking yawn, John tipped backwards to lie on his bed. He wriggled his galaxy patterned duvet out from from beneath him where he’d landed on top of it, unattaching it from the side of his bed where it fastened to formed more of a sleeping bag to prevent him from drifting away when he left the gravity off. Which he probably did too often when the days blurred together, rescues and downtime without separation.

Stars, he was tired. Too many rescue calls, not enough sleep for— he no longer kept track of how long, but that was another day’s problem. Right now, he was here and Scott was here, so John could believe everything was going to be okay. Provided they both got some shut eye sometime soon. 

Shuffling over to the wall made more room for Scott, even if John usually curled up right in the middle. The bunks on Five were larger and far more comfortable than the narrow and too short for anyone who wasn’t like, Gordon height, ones he remembered not so fondly from his NASA days. Still, not exactly sized for two people both over the six foot mark but they could make do. 

“Promise I won’t push you off,” John joked. 

Piling all of their siblings, because if one person was getting cuddles everyone suddenly wanted them, onto beds and couches definitely not designed for so many had led to the occasional person falling off the side, usually facilitated by shoving from the victim of a grievous crime such as ate the last sweet.

Scott rolled his eyes and repeated John’s motion of flopping down onto the bed, long limbs all everywhere, complete with tossing an arm over John’s chest and a foot over his ankles. He let out a dramatic sigh, looking to John out of the edge of his vision for his reaction.

John couldn't even pretend to be annoyed. This was Scott messing around playfully and John had missed this even as he still didn't take breaks from monitor duty and all his emotions were bubbling up in his chest until he was laughing, until there were tears in the corners of his eyes.

And Scott was laughing too, John could feel him shaking with it. Nothing was even that funny but here they were, giggling like a couple of careless, carefree kids, the sound echoing off of the walls. Five filled up with their laughter, contained it in a cocoon of light and air and protective walls between the vacuum outside where no noise could travel. 

They were both left grinning exhaustedly at each other as the world came back to the reality that it was well past 3am, they needed to actually sleep especially with Scott having come down from the adrenaline crash of a nightmare and rushing up here. John rubbed at his gritty, tired eyes.

A word to Eos in addition to a goodnight had the lights switching off, the room only illuminated by the stars outside the window. Shutters would automatically close when Five’s rotation would put them facing the sun, but for now John could look out and marvel that he was here as he used to do every night, reaching up to touch one of his glow in the dark stars, a familiar green on the wall. 

Scott watched him and John gave a half-shrug before shuffling closer. And he wasn't alone.

John shook his head to clear it before rolling onto his side, holding out his arms to Scott. 

Big brother immediately went in for the hug, burying his face at John’s shoulder, clinging to him with maybe a little left over fear or maybe just because John was near. He wrapped his arms around Scott tightly. Took a moment, another moment just to be.

Wondering how long it had been since he’d been part of a cuddle pile with any his siblings, instead of an outside observer in holographic format was not something he wanted to waste time on right now. Or how it still took a horrific nightmare for Scott to seek respite from all the pressures of the world that seemed gathered around dad’s desk. Or for John to get respite from falling on the wrong side of the distinct divide between solitary and alone. Not that he could ask for it, he and Scott were too similar in that way. Instead, John let himself sink into the hug. 

“You alright, John?” Scott’s concern was not unusual, he always found a way to check up on them.

“I’m really glad you’re here.” It could be interpreted in several ways, glad for Scott, glad for himself. That’s all John had, the rest he couldn't possible articulate but it was enough for now. He tucked his nose into Scott’s hair. 

The sun shutters slid over the windows exactly as they were supposed to. They were left with the green glow of his own stars. 

Scott’s chin was digging into his collarbone. Neither of them would likely have slept enough to be safe to fly tomorrow with the hours they were running to.

He shifted, making a quiet noise. Gently rearranging them was easy when Scott willingly followed through with John’s actions, guiding him to lie with his back to John’s chest instead. John wound his arms around Scott, ending up with his hands resting over Scott’s stomach, able to feel the rise and fall of it with each breath. He bumped his forehead against the back of Scott’s neck.

“‘M not the little spoon,” Scott protested even as he snuggled against John.

“Reality would suggest otherwise,” John returned, an observation, with the edges filed off as his deadpan humor had turned accidentally cutting these days.

It was rare that their positions were not reversed no matter the little brother involved. This made sense on a surface level, Scott’s height was greater than anyone else’s, long arms to pull them close, wrapped up safe. He was big brother, the eldest, their leader, he was the one who protected them from the world. 

But John could also be there for him. Usually that meant from afar, a hologram projected from a wrist comm they always kept on them or beside flight controls, a voice in his ear, an extra set of eyes. All the data at his fingertips and a Tracy’s determination to keep their family safe. He didn't know whether anyone realised how many crises he averted before they became problems. He protected Scott, and it was far easier now he would let them in.

Scott was warm and something tightly wound inside John loosened. They were there for each other, it was a balance, this was how the world worked. Now that Scott let them take some of the weight instead of carrying the whole universe on his shoulders, it was easier to lean on him too because they shared things like this. To not follow Scott’s less than stellar example of hiding struggles, but from a big brother who tried to do and be everything instead of the little ones, because John couldn't bear to add anything else to the pile. Scott trusted him, he could trust Scott too.

John was just about to drop off to sleep when Scott suddenly tensed up. 

“I don’t want to go to sleep. I don't want to have more nightmares.” The words came out jagged and scared, whisper quiet.

Scott was exhausted but the fear was stronger, unpredictably resurging just when everything seemed alright. John had seen how Scott would try to escape it before passing out into uneasy unconsciousness. He found Scott’s hands, sought them gently and linked theirs together. 

“I can’t make them stop but I will be right here if you have one,” John said, “I promise.”

“I know.” 

Scott settled again, letting out a deep breath.

John felt Scott fidgeting with his hands, carefully curling and uncurling his fingers, tracing over his knuckles, pressing their palms together, as the fear ebbed again.

The sounds of Five washed over them, humming softly as if breathing with them too. Familiar and home. John’s family was also his home. He needed them too. They needed him. He and Scott were rest and safety for each other as much the Thunderbird was for the world. 

John made sure to give an, “I love you,” to his big brother while he was still awake to hear it because these things were important to be said and to be heard in reply. 

Slowly, ever so slowly the grip of Scott’s hands relaxed, remaining loosely entwined with John’s as sleep finally came. 

John kept holding onto Scott. A Scott who knew he could come to John for anything and had come to him tonight. Scott was here, they were both here together on Thunderbird Five amongst the stars. The rest of John’s thoughts trailed off at sleep’s approach but they were filled with a quiet hope.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #john tracy #scott tracy #sky and star #astrawrite

[olderthannetfic]

Tumblr seems to be sliding in a downward spiral, and it feels like the start of the end of a fandoming era for me. I've been through it before; platforms are born then die, and life fandom finds a way. I'm just not looking forward to floundering for a bit, and dreading what the next hub will look like.

AO3 isn't really a place geared or meant for the same thing, and that's fine. My only fandom-related activity took place on AO3 only for a few years between my leaving LJ and joining Tumblr, and I lived ;-) But during that time, I was my own little island in fandom. Reading, leaving a few comments, not being super active. It's only when I found a community again that I was back to being really active in fandom once more.

And it's not that I actually use Tumblr to post about myself, but I do use it to read and reblog cool things - art, gifsets, science stuff, discovering new fandoms, and the like. I'm not sure where else I could find my people, with sameish purposes. The other sites I've tried didn't fill that niche in a way that suited me, in part because of how they look and work, in part because of who and what is(n't) there.

I have DW & PF accounts just to be safe, but I'm not very fond of group chats Discord-style - and without Tumblr, IDK how I'd even hear of new communities where I might pop in once in a while, loins girdled and everything. The micro-blogging platforms are not what I'm looking for either. Sure, I can follow a few DW comms and blogs; I already occasionally do and I will be more consistent about it if I must.

But one of my greatest fear is that the next platform will be phone-based, app-only, or some such BS - and that is something I just won't be able to deal with. Phones are tiny, it's uncomfortable to write anything, I don't like touch screen and much, much prefer a proper keyboard and a mouse (copy-pasting on a screen? (x_x) << it me), art/pics are too small to properly appreciate, a phone isn't comfy to hold for a long time for me, and the app system means you have no control over anything as a user… and that anything there must be Apple Approved, dick-free, blood-free, and tasteless. And I say this as someone who's pretty much uninterested in sex IRL or in my entertainment ;-) I still support and want the tits, the gore, the everything, and as long as I have the tools to curate - oh, wait. Curate things myself? That's not something that's popular these days, is it? It's not going to generate money, if I'm happy ;-)

So… I guess I'll play some more on Neocities, and see if anyone wants to have webrings again? (it would be fun and nostalgic, but not really viable on a large scale; people who haven't known those would just laugh and point and go on the InstaTok of the time).

So here is my little cane-waving rant of the day! I know things evolve and change and that in ten years I'll be rolling my eyes at my moping. It's only that I feel tired of moving from one shitty platform to another, of fearing I won't adapt (or more accurately won't want to adapt given the annoyance/benefit ratio) to whichever new place things will move in a few years. It's saying goodbye to a former home, moving, and hoping you'll make another home elsewhere kind of sniffles today!

--

We already know the next platform. It has been Discord for a few years now.

If you want the one after Discord, I think you're looking at waiting things out for quite a few years (or until Discord makes a major misstep as a company).

True, real time chat is not for everyone, but small discords with well-chosen channels can operate more asynchronously. Just like a lot of people who hated the look of Tumblr early on eventually capitulated, a lot of chat haters have jumped ship to Discord already.

Realistically, 90% of fandom always goes where the action is, no matter how much they claim the features make that space impossible, and 10% disappears.

We might get the 10% back on the next platform or they might leave fandom for good. There were LJ-haters who resurfaced post LJ era.

But as for where you'll find out where people are... probably AO3 author's notes.

[sparkles-rule-4eva]

New chapter of the Wachowski Family One-shots is out!

I already posted it on AO3 and Wattpad but I'll share it here as well :3

The Wachowski Family-

"Going to the Pool"

Summer had been in full swing when Knuckles and Tails had first joined the Wachowski family, and even though it was beginning to wind down, school hadn't started yet, and the hot weather had yet to cool down. So, in an attempt to find something fun and together to do on a free weekend that both Tom and Maddie had off work, they decided to take the kids to the local pool for the entirety of Saturday.

When they'd called their trio together and announced the weekend plan, Tails had gotten excited and started cheering, saying things like "I saw kids go there for so long, it looks so fun, thank you guys so much!"

Knuckles had seemed interested, not excited per se, but interested in going. He'd smiled at his youngest brother's eager anticipation and decided that it would be beneficial to their bond as a tribe (which was what he'd taken to calling their family).

Meanwhile, Sonic had just stood there, silent for once, his eyes wide and . . . troubled?

As Tails flew back up the stairs, still happily rambling, Tom had knelt down beside the hedgehog. "Is everything okay, bud? You don't seem all that excited at all for this."

Sonic had tried to brush it off, insisting he was fine, that he'd just spaced out and was distracted by homework. He'd made it clear he didn't want to talk about whatever was bothering him, so Tom hadn't pushed too hard, but he privately informed Maddie about the odd situation later and asked her to help him keep an eye on their middle child.

Sonic was a good kid, a great kid. But he did have a lot of troubles from his past, troubles that were sometimes impossible to get him to talk about and help him with. And since they didn't want to force him into uncomfortable, possibly triggering conversations, they just let him know they were there for him and that he could come to them with any problem he had.

So here they were, 10 a.m. on a hot Saturday morning, pulling into the parking lot of the public pool. The boys didn't technically need swimming trunks, but they'd thought they looked cool, so they each had gotten their own pair. "Group of five, please," Tom informed the guy at the front. "All three under age 17. We'll be here till 4."

The guy glanced at the three alien boys, the younger two of which were bickering over whether or not zombies still biologically counted as humans, and chuckled. "I believe it."

While Tom paid for their visit, Maddie reached back and flicked both Sonic's and Tails's ears playfully. "Come on, guys, it's not that important. Don't argue."

"It's very important!" Sonic insisted. "What if we ended up in a zombie apocalypse one day? We'd have to know so that Tails could possibly make a cure! But like, if they're not human, then I don't think that'll work. Because . . . that would be like giving cold medicine to a . . . giraffe. Wait— do you think cold medicine would work on me and Tails? And Knuckles? What if—"

"We're in, boys!" Tom called back, cutting off Sonic's ramblings. "Let's-a go!"

Knuckles sighed. "Mother, he is copying the Italian construction worker again."

Maddie snickered, then nudged him and his brothers through the gate to the shower room for the men. "I'll see you guys on the other side."

Once they were all on said other side, Tails immediately made a beeline for the nearest bit of pool and jumped in with a whoop of glee. Knuckles smiled and followed him, calling, "I will make sure you stay safe, little fox!"

Maddie headed for the beach chairs, wanting to heat up in the direct sunlight before getting in the water. Tom was just about to follow his two newer boys in when he realized Sonic was still lingering back by the door, his arms pressed up to his chest, eyeing the water with a glint of . . . was that . . . fear in his eyes?

With a concerned frown, Tom stepped back out of the water and headed back to his kid. "You coming in, Sonic?"

The little hedgehog jumped at the sound of his name, his eyes somehow growing wider. "I— n-no . . . I'm . . . just gonna go sit with Mom, if that's okay," he mumbled, slinking uneasily along the side of the pool to where Maddie was reclining.

Tom watched him go, remembering the kid's first reaction to the pool announcement. For a kid who talked almost nonstop, getting to really know Sonic the way any parent should know their child was unbelievably hard. Basically, they only knew what he told them and what they managed to catch through observations. Tom tried to think back through all the time they'd had him, trying to find a clue to why he so obviously didn't want to be here. Had he said he didn't like the pool? Or didn't like swimming—

The memory hit him like a brick over the head, making him wonder why he hadn't thought of it before.

"I can't swim!!"

Gasping words, flailing limbs, when he'd once fallen asleep on a fishing trip and tipped out of their rowboat.

That was why he didn't want to join them. He couldn't.

But . . . they could teach him. Didn't he know he was safe with them? That they would never let him drown on their watch?

Maybe there was more to it than that.

Tom considered getting out and going to talk to Sonic about it, but he could see Maddie sitting up slightly, saying something to him. And based on Sonic's body language— knees tucked to his chest, half curled into his spiky ball, the position he got into whenever he didn't feel safe and the threat wasn't Robotnik— they weren't just discussing the weather.

So he decided to trust his wife to handle it, and went to join his other two boys.

-

"You're sure you don't wanna get in, hon? You look a little overheated. Especially with all your fur."

"I'm sure." Sonic's response was mumbled, almost grouchy sounding, and he wouldn't look at Maddie.

She studied him. Tom had told her a couple days prior that he'd seemed uncomfortable with the idea of the pool day, but refused to talk about it. They'd come anyway because Tails and Knuckles had wanted to do it, and Sonic hadn't asked them not to.

But now . . . he looked so miserable, and it broke Maddie's heart. With the longing way he stared at his brothers and father laughing and splashing in the water, it seemed he did want to. But for some reason he thought he couldn't.

She tried to start small and gentle with questions. "Have you ever gone swimming before? Like this, for fun?"

". . . No." His voice was muffled, words spoken into his arms and knees.

"So . . . do you know how to swim?"

He didn't say anything aloud this time, but his silence was enough of an answer.

"Because," Maddie ventured carefully, "if you don't know how, we could always teach you . . ."

"I can't—!" Sonic broke off quickly, but he'd already said enough, although Maddie wasn't sure why he thought he couldn't learn.

They sat in silence for the next minute, until she finally added, "We're not gonna force you to do anything you don't want to. We just want to help. We don't want you to be upset when everyone else is having a good time."

Again, Sonic didn't answer for a while. But after another few minutes of people-watching, he said quietly, "I don't like water."

"Yeah?"

"I really don't like water."

"Alright." He was building up to telling her something, she could tell, but she didn't ask more questions. She would let him open up in his own, comfortable timing.

"I mean, you can't run in water. Can't breathe in water."

"You're not wrong."

"And water could kill you, too. I should kno—" Again he broke off quickly, lowering his head and almost curling up completely, while Maddie slowly sat up straight.

"Hold on, sweetheart, back up." Her heart pounded in her chest, ringing in her ears in sudden anxiety. "Does that mean— have you . . . you almost drowned once?"

This round of waiting in silence was significantly more agonizing than the previous ones had been, and the fear only heightened when he finally muttered in response, "Maybe."

"W-What happened? When?" If only he knew how hard she was fighting to keep her voice calm.

At this point in the conversation, Sonic was almost completely curled into a ball, with only his nose and eyes poking out, and he was staring at nothing. His ears were flat, and his breathing sounded just a little too fast as he replied quietly, "Actually twice. Didn't make it across the ocean to the Master Emerald island. Robotnik took the Emerald and the maze collapsed. Water came in. Knuckles got pinned underwater. Tried to save him. Blacked out."

"Were you— how did you get out?"

"Knuckles."

It was . . . unlike him to be talking in such short, stunted sentences, and in such a quiet voice. It was worrying, especially when she realized he was ever so slightly trembling.

Then the worry got a whole lot worse when electric sparks started flying from his quills, and his troubled eyes started to flicker blue.

"Hey, hey, hey, honey it's okay." Maddie quickly moved just a little closer, reaching a hand towards him. "If you don't want to talk about this anymore, that's okay!"

Having noticed what was going on, Tom had scrambled to get out of the water and was hurrying towards them.

"Hey bud, what's going on?" He was trying not to sound too worried, but Maddie could hear the undertones in his voice. "Buddy? Can you talk to me?"

"I'm sorry," the boy mumbled, starting to take deep, soothing breaths the way Maddie had taught him. "I'm trying."

"We can drop the conversation, honey," Maddie reassured him. "You don't have to go in if you don't want to."

Some of the stress left Sonic's eyes as she spoke, but sparks were still flying.

"What else do you wanna talk about? Oh! Would you think vampires would count as humans?"

A tiny snort escaped him at her attempt of more fun conversation, and they counted that as a small win. "Maybe. Don't they have fangs and different blood though? Would that change them enough?"

Good, it was working. "I don't know," she laughed. "Would that mean they'd need a shot for medicine instead?"

"Probably." The blue in his eyes began to fade back to green as he relaxed. "Me and Tails should write a research paper about it later."

"Do my ears deceive me?" Tom pretended to gasp in shock. "You're saying you want to write a paper?!"

Sonic giggled a little at his father's exaggerated tone. "It'd be a fun topic. I still don't want to write papers about some politician from the 1800s who had a boring life."

"Fair." Maddie laughed, inwardly heaving a sigh of relief as the last of the sparks on him vanished.

They sat in more comfortable silence, although she was still trying to calm her racing heart at the thought of her little boy nearly drowning, not once, but twice, and not telling either of them.

Then again, that was just like him. He'd never liked to talk about the more painful parts of his life. He much preferred to live in the present, which was good and fine. They just didn't want him to be running away from his traumas instead of getting help with them.

So it was a bit of a surprise when he actually the broke the silence again a few minutes later with "How deep is the shallow part of water here?"

"It's about three feet, assuming you're not talking about the baby pool," Tom told him, and Sonic made a face at the latter half of the sentence.

"So just a little shorter than you," Maddie added.

"How can water be short?"

"Would you rather me say 'shallower than you'?"

"Ah. Yeah, no."

"Uh huh."

A pause. "So . . . maybe I could . . . try. A little."

Hope lit in Maddie's chest. At the very least she'd expected him to possibly suggest learning next time they went swimming, so it wouldn't be too fast and too much at once. It was an encouragement that he was willing to try.

Again, that was just him, the way he was. He was willing to face his fears. Just like he must've done before.

"Of course," Tom replied brightly. "Try not to worry too much. We won't let anything happen to you."

Sonic smiled sheepishly. "I know."

-

The lessons went fairly well, even though they ended up taking up the entirety of their time there. Tails and Knuckles, much to their parents' pride and relief, were thrilled to see him edging into the water and spent most of the lessons cheering him on (in their own individual ways). It wasn't that Sonic was afraid to touch the water, it was more the feeling of being submerged that made him nervous. He hesitated after wading in to about his knees, but with a constant barrage of encouragement from his parents and brothers (plus the close presence of both Tom and Maddie on either side of him) helped him take the remaining steps until he was standing on the bottom of the shallow end.

From there, they showed him how to use his hands as scoops and paddles for propelling, how to balance that with kicking, and how to float on his back (which he actually picked up really quickly). He still panicked every now and then, mainly when he slipped underwater, but Tom or Maddie were always there to pull him back up.

As they drove home that evening, Maddie nudged Tom's arm as she heard the boys talking in the backseats.

"Did ya have fun?" Tails was asking, presumably Sonic.

Smiles crossed both of their faces as he replied with breathless excitement, "Actually, yeah! I mean, it was a little scary—" He lowered his voice for that part, although both parents still heard— "but I'm actually looking forward to next time so I can learn some more. Hey, maybe we could try swimming in the lake!"

"But there's fish," Tails argued. "Plus, that water can't be sanitary."

"It's swimming, not taking a bath. It doesn't have to be sanitary."

"Eww."

"The hedgehog is right!" Knuckles' voice piped up cheerfully. "Swimming is meant to be unsanitary! Like the fun, like you told me about the mud puddles last week!"

"Hey, shush!" Sonic's voice hissed, and Maddie snorted.

"Guess we found the culprit of the muddy footprints on the back door carpet," Tom called to the back, and the three boys collectively groaned.

"It was Tails' idea," Sonic complained.

"It was not!"

"But it was the fun!"

"You mean 'it was fun.' No 'the.'"

"C'mon, Tails, don't be the grammar police. I like his funky way of talking."

"I do not speak funky!"

Tom leaned over slightly. "Successful trip, I'd say?"

Maddie nodded, smiling. "Success for sure. No one got electrocuted, and we finally got him starting swimming lessons."

And hearing the word "funky" come from Knuckles' mouth had the rest of them laughing and giggling for the remainder of the trip home.

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

It's time to FAACE YOUR FEEAARRSS

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