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ignitedbynatsu · 3 years

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I Trust You Pt. 1

A/N: I am ~back~. Sorry for being so absent lately😅. I have a lot of new ideas and stories I wanna write so get ready! Also this was requested by @xbay-beex but it's a little longer than what I originally anticipated so I decided to spits it in 2 parts. Next part will be up tomorrow or the day after. Hope you enjoy it ❤️

Warnings: reader getting hurt

Genre: angst

Previous ~ next

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A low mist danced around the Fairy Tail mages their feet as they made their way through the abandoned town. If you had to describe the feeling you got from it in one word, ominous would be the first thing that’d come to mind. You were called in to handle some thugs that ruined the harvest, but the further you went in town, the more you got the feeling that there was something much graver going on.

“Hello?” Bickslow’s booming voice bounced off the walls while the only answer he got was a deafening silence. Either everyone was dead or this town was abandoned. You hoped from the bottom of your heart it was the last one, even if it meant being lured into a trap.

“Keep your eyes and ears open, there’s no telling what’s going on right now” Laxus warned as you all carefully moved forward. Laxus and you were upfront, Freed in the middle, and Bickslow and Evergreen were in the back.

You halted in your track for a mere second as you picked up noises from somewhere in front of you, but before you could even react to move a muscle, a hole appeared in the ground right where you and Laxus were standing, successfully splitting you off from the others. “Laxus! (Y/N)!”

You desperately tried to grasp Freed’s outstretched hand, but as soon as the hole appeared, it also closed up again. “You okay?”

You groaned at Laxus question as you tried to take in your surroundings. You were standing in the middle of a small metal cage. If you and Laxus were to stand on the opposite side of the cage and only one of you stretched your arm, you would touch the other. “What the-‘

“I didn’t mean for you to also come down here, guess you’ll have to be collateral damage” Your head whipped to where the sound came from, expecting a human, but instead you came face to face with a metal spear coming right at you, only being able to dodge it because Laxus pushed you out of the way in time.

“I guess you figured it out already, haven’t you? You won’t be able to wield your electricity in here without hurting her” the dark mage finally stepped in the dim light that was shining from little cracks and holes in the roof. “Maybe you’ll be more useful than I thought”

Laxus hated how he was looking you up in down, as an instinct he moved in front of you, blocking the view of your body with his. “What are you after” Laxus calm voice clearly agitated the unknown mage in front of you, but to the dragon slayer it was an attempt to buy the both of you some time to come up with a plan.

Neither you nor Laxus could use your magic in the cramped metal cage. Due to the metal, Laxus’s electricity would inevitably hit you, while your explosion would either hit Laxus directly or make the cage collapse on the two of you. Either way, neither of you could really rely on your magic right now.

“Revenge for killing our leader” He vaguely answered. Which made you raise an eyebrow at him “You’re gonna have to be more specific here, bud, we’ve taken out a lot of bad guys throughout the years”

Laxus shot you an annoyed look, but you just shrugged, you were right after all. Knowing when to shut up never really was one of your strong suits, it was something the loved and hated at the same time “how dare you to belittle master Mard Geer, you will atone for your sins”

“watch out!” Once again a metal spear was directly headed towards you, only this time you need Laxus to dodge it.

A maniacal laugh fell of the Tartaros follower as your eyes flickered towards Laxus to see if he was okay “Dance my little puppets”

You dodged another attack, accidentally bumping against Laxus in the progress “Do it”

“No” your request was immediately shot down by the blonde, knowing exactly what crazy plan was brewing in your head “it’s too dangerous”

“You and me both know we don’t have another option” this time you were not quick enough and got grazed by the spike as a result. You hissed in pain as the blood was already seeping through your shirt.

Laxus eyes shot up at the sound that left your lips, concern immediately flooding his eyes. He knew neither of you would be able to uphold this much longer “You should do it”

This time it was your turn to shoot down his request “You know that’s not an option. At least you have a chance to not hit me.”

“There has got to be another way” He was desperately trying to come with a solution, any other would be better than to hurt you, but his mind just came up blank. There was no way he’d take that chance, not with you inside the cage as well.

“Laxus, look at me” He glanced at you and saw that your lips held a warm smile, your signature smile, at least that’s what he thought. In reality, it was a smile that only he got to see. A smile that matched your eyes, and both held so much more emotions than he would ever know. “It’s okay. I trust you. You can do it. I know you can.”

Laxus rarely felt fear but at that moment, it was the only thing swimming through his mind, taking over every fibre in his body, but you trusted him, and for some reason, that’s all he needed to hear. This would work. It had to “okay”.

He took a deep breath, getting as far from you as possible as he summoned his lightning. A deep exhale escaped his lips as he aimed for the small space between the metal bars. The dark mage got directly hit by it, making his twitching body collapse to the ground. He did it. “let’s get out of here- (Y/N)?!”

The fear that had only just left his body, came back in an instant. No, it was much worse this time, it was like his blood ran cold as he watched your twitching body on the floor. He failed.

“(Y/N)? Hey, look at me. Come on (Y/N). Hey, no, don’t you dare close your eyes” His normal calm and collected self was nowhere to be seen. How could it? The woman that held his heart was slowly dying all because he wasn’t careful enough.

“Laxus! (Y/N)!” It was faint, but he managed to hear the shouting of his friends from above him. “Down here!”

He shielded your body with his as he heard a whole being blown, by what he presumed was Bickslows puppets. “Don’t worry, (Y/N), I’ll get you safe”

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beomcoups · 3 years

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Bad Alive

𝐅𝐨𝐫 @𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 ‘𝐬 𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭: 𝐑𝐢𝐬𝐪𝐮é

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: mafia!boss Kun (NCT) x mafia!boss reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut, fluff, angst, mafia au, friends with benefits au, childhood

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: R (18+)

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), rough missionary, nail digging, squirting, mentions of violence, guns, swearing

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.6k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: The rival boss is a bad kind of player, with thousand dollar shoes. He's the final obstacle in your three year journey to the top of your group. It would be a piece of cake - if he wasn't your ex-lover.

𝐀𝐍: A massive thank you to @darknytemare, @sunshinekims and @lovey-simone for beta reading for me 🖤

You first spotted him surrounded by his crew and women in the VIP, leaning over the rail. His eyes watching the club like a hawk, the scene unraveling before him. His honey blonde hair cut short into an undercut, well-tailored suit, and nice smile caught you off guard, as you usually don’t see these kinds of men in this club.

“Who is that?” You ask the bartender, pointing in his direction.

“Oh, that’s Qian Kun; he is the owner of this club,” the bartender says matter-of-factly.

“Do you mean Qian, as in Qian mafia?!” your voice unexpectedly rises, earning a few looks from the people around you.

You turn around and sneak another look at him, watching the ladies laugh at his every word, clearly loving the attention. Rumors spread quickly about the club being owned by a mafia Don.

“Shh! Are you trying to get yourself killed?” He whispers, working on a drink for a customer. Naive was your best ploy and to get where you needed to be you had to be coy. “But yes, it has the affiliation. So be careful.”

You nod and take a swig of your drink, finishing it completely before making your way to the dance floor. You already knew who Kun was. His reputation exceeding him, just from his looks alone he wouldn’t be expected. His looks made him look innocent almost, knowing the things his mafia did to people who weren’t needed anymore, you knew you had to proceed with caution before you went into action.

Kun wasn’t an ordinary guy; he is the Qian mafia head after inheriting it from his father a year ago. Being the daughter of the rival mafia, the Zodiacs, had its perks. He’s not a total stranger to you, as you grew up to be childhood friends and eventually lovers, losing your virginities to each other as you both became adults. You wanted a relationship, but he didn’t want anything serious; he just wanted your friendship and to fuck you ravishingly whenever he could.

You were okay with that for a while until you moved out of town and stayed away for three years. Since then, your families became enemies over a bad drug deal. The severity growing by the minute. Moving back recently brought on memories but that’s what you intended on keeping them as. Your father knew you were ready to take over the family business. So forth your here now attending to some routine affairs, before everything could be complete you had to cut down the biggest threat:

Kun

This was the final task, one you planned on exploiting until the last minute.You find a spot dancing with the strangers, the EDM sounds booming through the place. You get lost in the moment, allowing your body to move however you wanted it to, almost forgetting your task at hand. Your hair covers your face, but you can see your surroundings, and you notice one of his men and another childhood friend, Hendery, approaching you with his hand for you to shake.

“Come on, Hendery, we’re not strangers,” you forgo his hand and give him a hug. “How have you been? How’s your mom?”

“She’s good. Stubborn as ever,” he adjusts his tie, trying to hide his goofy grin. “Kun wanted me to bring you up to him.”

“I know,” you say, cocking an eyebrow at him. You look up in his direction, and Kun is smirking at you, holding a glass and lifting it up in your direction.

“If he wants me, he’ll have to come down here and fetch me himself,” you shrug, going back to the music. “It was nice seeing you again.”

Hendery nods and goes back to Kun, who gazes at you once more before removing the women’s hands touching his shoulders and making his way towards you. You liked this cat and mouse game, making him chase you around until he finally caught up and had his way. It’s unfortunate that you have to end his life in order to be the boss, but you’re not looking for love; you just want his body one last time.

Kun approaches you, and oddly the wind almost gets knocked out of you; he’s more handsome than the last time you saw him, and you can tell his very expensive suit was tailored just for him.

“Y/N… It’s been a while,” he greets me, kissing my left cheek.

“Yes, yes it has,” you agree, fluffing your hair off your shoulder.

“You look good,” his eyes wander all over your dress, biting his bottom lip.

“I know I do,” you grin seductively, pulling him to the crowd. “Dance with me.”

You take his hand and guide him to a spot on the dance floor, seducing him as you grind your body on his, allowing his hands to grace your hips. His cologne is strong enough to fill your senses of him, but you can still keep aware of what’s going on around you. His men are entertained by the women in their view; the security is placed at each exit door, making it harder for you to sneak off without being seen.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” Kun questions you, your heart skipping a beat.

“I’m dancing, “ you respond coyly, turning around to face him.

“You don’t miss me?”

He scoffs and pulls you closer to him, his hands firmly on your ass.

“It’s been three years, and you just show up here? I don’t buy it,” he challenges you, matching your rhythm to the beat.

You look deep into his eyes, and you know he means business, but you keep your poker face focused on the mission at hand.

“What if I was here to see you?” You whisper into his ear.

“How would that make you feel?”

“You’d have to show me that you wanted to see me,” he buffers.

“How are you going to do that?”

You lean in and kiss him, slightly tugging on his suit, pulling him closer and under your spell. Your tongue makes magic with his, your body burning up from the sexual tension you have been harboring.

“Does that answer your question?” You tease him, nibbling the bottom of his lip.

“Maybe…” Kun trails off, motioning to his right-hand man, Ten. “I’ll need more convincing at my place. Meet me in the back alley; there is already a car there.”

You watch him say something to Ten before grabbing his coat, and you make your way to the back entrance, a black car already heated and ready to go. Kun has never been a man of a lot of words, but you know the steamy dance session has him wanting you, and you would be a liar if you didn’t admit you wanted him too. You might be holding some small feelings for him, being an old lover and someone you grew up with, but the family business comes first, no matter the cost… right?

“Are you ready?” Kun’s hand brushes your back, chills taking over your body.

You nod as our feet touched the cold ground, his home was calling.

“Your place is nice,” you observe as you walk into Kun’s penthouse.

You take off your heels and set them on the hardwood floor, walking into the spacious living room with a grand view of the city. The kitchen isn’t too far with a built-in bar attached and just based on what’s in front of you, you know this place isn’t cheap. Kun is rummaging through his wine rack and comes with a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

“Thank you. Are you thirsty?” Kun asks, pouring some in his glass.

“Yeah. I’ll take a little sip,” you grab and sit on one of the stools.

He pours some wine in a gold-trimmed glass, and you thank him, taking a small sip like you promised. You don’t like wine much, but you need something to calm your nerves and the heat brewing in your core.

“So, are you finally going to be honest with me?” Kun interrogates you, almost catching you off guard.

You stay composed and take another sip, finishing it entirely and setting it down on the island bar.

“What makes you think I’m not being honest with you?” You counter, slowly walking towards him.

“Come on, Y/N,” he scoffs, brushing his hair back with his hands. “It’s been years, and I haven’t heard from you. Let alone a goodbye, and now you just show up here and flirt with me? I know you better than that.”

You know he’s making sense, and you think of a quick lie to cover your tracks. You taking over the family business is on the line, and despite the small feelings you still hold for him, you cannot fuck this up.

“I promise I came to see you,” you swear, waving your hands dramatically. It is the truth after all.

“Do you still have feelings for me?” Kun starts, loosening his tie. “I told you years ago I’m not the relationship type. That hasn’t changed.”

It is your turn to scoff, letting out a hearty laugh from the pit of your soul.

“I’m in town because I have some family stuff to attend to. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, and I wanted to see what’s been up with you,” you wave him off. “But obviously, this is a lot for you, so I’m going to go.”

You make your way to the door and grab your shoes, willing to walk outside in the cold barefooted until your ride came. That didn’t happen, however, as Kun grabs your arm, backing you into the wall.

“You’re still dramatic as ever,” Kun states before bringing his lips to yours.

You kiss him back, tearing open his shirt, buttons flying everywhere as your hands rub across his chest. His big hands lift you up, carrying you to his massive bedroom and setting you down on the bed,

“Strip,” Kun demands, unbuckling his belt.

You get up, slowly lowering each strap on your dress, pulling your dress down until your breasts and thong were exposed. Kun pulls you to him, kissing you once more, leaning you back onto the bed. His lips trail to your stomach, leaving soft marks while he lowers your panties with his other hand.

“You’re the same way I remembered you years ago,” he whispers. “You are still as beautiful as ever.”

“Yeah yeah,” you brush off his words, your breath hitching as his lips meet your sweet spot.

Kun smirks and leaves a sensual kiss, your back arching as he is tasting your sweet nectar. Your hands are grasping for his hair; the rapturous way he makes your body feel is astral projecting you into paradise. His tongue takes a long swipe on your sweet pussy, his ravenous lust coming out of his pores as he tongue fucks you.

“My god-” you choke on air, your stomach coiling under pressure at your release. His nails dig into your ass, and you come undone, your honeyed essence dripping down his chin as he drinks you in. You beg him to stop, but he continues his onslaught, causing you to cum again shortly after.

“You are going to suck me dry,” you rasp, out of breath.

He finally pulls away, licking his lips, a sly grin plastered on his face as he lifts your leg up, slowly rubbing his shaft.

“Wait,” you attempt to sit up. “You don’t want me to do it?”

“No,” he eases himself inside of you. “I don’t have time for that. I need to feel you.”

You know you should have asked him to put on a condom, but the moment he climbed over and plowed into you, your sense of reasoning went out the door. He fucks you likes he missed you, rapaciously pounding into you like a street whore, and you return his aggression with your nails dug deep into his back. He cups your mouth with his big hands, kissing you and taking your energy away as you reach your peak once more.

“Go ahead,” Kun grits his teeth. “I want to feel you all over me.”

No second later, you splash everywhere, squirting all over him and his sheets, surprising yourself as you have never done that with anyone before. He finishes shortly after, releasing his hot load on your stomach, kissing you tenderly until he was well spent.

“Phew!” You collapse on the bed, your vision blurry, and your energy depleted. You hear him chuckle, and you roll your eyes, slightly annoyed at his arrogance. He’s obviously picked up a thing or two while you were gone, and you wouldn’t mind doing this with him again if only you didn’t have to kill him. You hear him leave and go into the bathroom, and you sit up, looking around for what you can find on him before he gets out. You notice a planner on the nightstand, and you rummage through it, finding his schedule of the week, and you make mental notes. You hear the sink water come on, and you quickly put it back and get back into the position before he comes out.

“Are you tired?” He comes out with a hand towel, taking care to wipe his semen off of my stomach.

“A little,” you admit, your body sinking comfortably into the bed.

“Well, stay the night,” he suggests, disposing of the hand towel and coming back into bed.

“Eh,” you sound unsure. “I’m not trying to put you out of your bed, and I don’t want you getting ideas.”

Kun shakes his head, pulls you closer to him, and you lay back down. “I’m not the one who was in love years ago. As long as you know this isn’t going to be more than this, you can stay as many nights as you want.”

“Yeah, sure,” you say sarcastically, nuzzling into the pillow. “I’m not the same girl you grew up with. You’ll see.”

It’s been five months since that night, and things started to change. He was still the Kun you grew up with, but softer. He was still a shrewd mafia boss and ran his business with an iron fist, but with you, he was sweet. His eyes shined when you walked into the room; he continued to fuck you mercilessly and doted on you like a princess after. It became more than fuck sessions, the calls wanting to know about your day and randomly showing up with dinner. If you didn’t know better, you would think he was falling in love with you.

You would be a liar if you didn’t admit to yourself that you started to have some feelings for him and you enjoyed his company, but as much as you want that companionship, the mafia comes first, and he has to go. You’ve been getting heat from your family, who wants this charade to end so you can finally take your place at the head of the Zodiacs. You pushed it off longer than you’d realize, and after the insistent nagging in every meeting, you decided tonight was the night.

“Hey,” you let Kun into your condo, dressed in a white tee and gray sweatpants. You invited him over, making up a lie about someone following you home. Your hair is pinned into a bun, and you just got out of the shower. You have had to kill before, but this was different; you never had to kill someone you cared about.

“Where did you say he was following you,” Kun asks, looking out your window.

“I was leaving the warehouse, and I noticed this sedan was following me,” you fake a sigh, more so to calm your nerves. “I went a long way home and was able to lose them, thank God.”

“Mmhmm,” is all he says, and he continues to look outside and around your place, checking to see if anyone else was inside. You act completely natural, flipping through the channels until you find something semi-decent to put on the tv, not that you’ll be watching it much.

“You know you didn’t have to call me over here,” Kun plops on the couch next to you, laying his head on your nap. “You could’ve called one of your guards here.”

“I know,” you shrug, playing in his hair. “But I wanted you over here. Is that such a bad thing?”

He perks his lips up, and you kiss him, the sweet taste lingering on his lips that has you wanting more. His hands take out your bun, allowing your hair to fall down your face.

“I’m glad you asked me over,” Kun whispers, leaving the last kiss on your nose. Your heart is touched, and you start to feel tears form, so you make a motion that you are getting up and go into the bathroom, leaning against the door. You wish there was another way to be in charge and still have him. You went into this cold-hearted and not wanting love, but here he is, sucking you in again like years before. You take a long look in the mirror before reaching underneath the sink for the pistol you kept hidden there. Your hands are searching for it before you bend and look for yourself, grabbing it and taking it out of its case. You take a deep breath and open the door, Kun on the other side startling you.

“Jesus!” You exclaim, clutching your shirt. “You scared the shit out of me.”

You walk past him into the kitchen for a glass of water. You feel your face hot from embarrassment, and you gulp your water down, ready to face what’s to come.

“Are you okay?” you hear Kun behind you. “You seem a bit off.”

It’s now or never, you say to yourself. You clear your throat and pull out the gun from behind you, aiming for Kun’s head. Instead of looking shocked, he sighs heavily, taking a seat on one of the stools.

“It was only a matter of time, I suppose,” he surmises, raking his hands through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” your voice is small, fighting back the tears. “I wish this could have ended differently.”

“It can be different,” he pleads. “Let’s leave this life behind. Run away with me.”

You look at him incredulously before bursting into laughter, your voice bellowing throughout your kitchen. You two were both born into the mafia families; it’s either them or death. No way you can just leave without being hunted down.

“You sound crazy,” you scoff, scratching your left temple with your gun. “You are just saying that to get out of this.” You cock the safety back, ready to pull the trigger.

“Have you ever known me to be a liar, Y/N?” he asks, slowly getting off of the stool. “I knew you were sent to kill me the day you showed up at my club. No way you just randomly showed up to see me.”

You keep your poker face, but your heart is pounding at his revelation. You thought you covered your tracks, keeping your i’s dotted and your t’s crossed. What happened?

“Come on, I’m in the business Y/N. I already know how this goes,” he points out, moving closer to you.

“So if you knew, why haven’t you stopped me?” You move your finger to the trigger, something he notices and stops dead in his tracks.

“I fell in love with you,” he confesses. “I went into this thinking that I could have a little fun before we eventually would have to square off, but you made me want love… You reminded me of the times we were kids and growing up together, and it feels good. I don’t want to lose that.”

The silence is deafening, the tears you were blocking pouring out of your eyes.

“I know you feel the same,” Kun steps slowly to you again, entering your personal space. “I know you want to leave this life behind.”

You hate that he is right, and if you had the strength, you would end it right here and now. But his eyes are showing a vision of love, an alternate reality where you two can be together without having to look over your shoulders; A life of leisure with your childhood sweetheart, the love of your life.

“But how could this even work—”

You’re cut off with his lips pressed against yours, almost knocking you out your senses. You give in to his feelings, setting the gun on the counter and placing your hands on his neck, deepening the kiss.

“Let’s find a way to end this together,” Kun’s voice is shaky, his eyes peering into your soul.

You nod, sniffling as you turn around and reach for a paper towel to dry your face.

“I love you, Y/N.”

That’s the last thing you remember before the gun went off and everything faded to black.

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softly-savage-mint-yoongi · 3 years

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Heat Seekers I

Genre: Dark Cyberpunk AU Pairing: Chanyeol x f.reader Words: 5k Fic Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. I’m serious people. If any of the chapter warnings are uncomfortable or triggering for you, please do not read this. Do so at your own discretion. Lots of angst and hurt, eventual smut. Chapter Warnings are below the cut. Author’s Note: There are some specific things in this fic that I’ve personally experienced, and some that I have not. Please understand my intention with this fic is a way of healing not just for myself but hopefully for others who unfortunately have experience with these types of situations. I did a lot of debating about whether or not I should even post this fic, and have spoken to a few individuals about it. Ultimately, with the intent of healing and moving past such trauma, it’s been decided OK to post. Please take my warnings seriously.

Chapter Warnings: Metaphoric descriptions of statutory rape. Assault, sexual assault. Gaslighting. Attempted murder. Brief mentions of substance abuse and prostitution. Minor character death.

You always believed there was no such thing as Heaven, but surely there was Hell. Several iterations of the grotesque and horrific afterlife; because humanity is a plague and that is what each of us deserved.

Perhaps in your younger days, you didn’t know it… no, even then you knew. Deep down inside you remember nothing of happiness or blessing. No memories of a person’s presence, actions, or words doing anything considerably good for anyone else. Certainly not without a motive. Certainly not out of empathy.

Before you could walk, throwing yourself into the repetitive ease of programmed machines and technology brought you peace. Technology is predictable and massively accessible to anyone. Technology is your comfort.

Electricity became nearly free and unlimited after the revolution that ended the War on Power in 2045. So long as the sun rose every day, there was never a shortage, and the resulting surge of technological advancements that boomed, as a result, have made most fairly new tech obsolete.

Sustainable, economic, and eco-friendly power became the way of the world. Wind energy became the norm. Buildings were now made from fiberglass solar panels, stronger, taller, and widely available, so every surface collected energy from the sun. Window glass collected heat to use in the winter, eliminating the need for natural gas heat altogether. More room for technology to grow. More surface area on the ground for parks and forests. Resorts built above an ocean’s surface harnessed the energy of the currents moving below their supports. Anything that wasn’t hovering in midair could collect energy from earthquakes and natural disasters alike, as long as humankind was lucky enough to have built something that could capture the energy and withstand the storm. The earth was well on its way to healing by the time you were born in 2051, and although humankind flourished along with it, the world was still a dangerous place. Corporations rose even higher and politics declined, dissolving into a place wrought with criminal activity and fear. Yes, humans were healthier, stronger, lived longer if they were lucky. But was that really such a good thing? Your parent would throw anything she didn’t find valuable at you whenever you locked her out of the apartment, and she was too weak to force her way inside. You were smart enough to know you would be no match in the likely event someone tried to break in, so you had to defend yourself. You wear wary of the men she brought inside, always idly wondering if any of them were your father, but so few of them ever returned.

You don’t remember ever knowing you even had a father before that, unknowing until she told you about sex and what makes a human child when you were four. Not that you’d asked and not that she would care to speak to you when she was anything other than suffocatingly drunk.

In a room that was barely such, the feeble plywood walls held together as if by magic and the curtain strung up as your door sagged so low it only served to be a nuisance to your agenda. Outdated machines and technology stacked high around the walls, most were scrap parts for your projects.

You dedicated every day to sitting in the same spot, surrounded by computers and machines, and learning what makes them function. The finite possibilities, yet the scope of their differences, is something that brought you peace and kept the gears in your own head turning. Sometimes, you would pretend and daydream as if you were an android yourself. You were not lucky enough to be born as one with artificial intelligence.

You attended virtual school whenever you felt like it, or at least you knew the basics. Your parent didn’t care. She nearly pretended like you didn’t exist, which suited you just fine. From the time you were five, she began leaving you alone at home. You knew how to pull the cracked plastic stool over to the counter and get yourself some goldfish crackers or something else simple. You weren’t allowed to use the stove even though you’d repaired it twice, but the microwave was fine.

You knew how to bathe and how to use the restroom and clean up after yourself because you had to. There was nobody else for a long time. Days came and went when you weren’t sure if she would ever come back, only for her to come banging on the squeaky front door or crashing through it slurring her words and waking you from a fitful sleep to wipe at your tear-stained cheeks in the middle of the night. The notion of your tears on her behalf was always something unpredictable and confusing to you. Why would you cry over such insignificance, you sometimes wondered to yourself.

If she stopped coming back one day you would figure it out. The nice man across the street from your apartment building ran a tiny tech store and he always had a smile for you and something that needed fixing. Most days he would ask you math problems as something he called a “lightning round” of questions for an extra quarter for every right answer. Surely the three dollars he gave you for what your fixed every time was enough to put what little food you needed in your stomach.

By the time you were eight, the habits you and your cohabitant fell into became routine. You became accustomed to sleeping during the day while she was out, setting your school live feed on record so you could watch it later. At night, while trying to drown out the sounds of her screaming or sex or shattering bottles, you would work. In the world you knew, the industry wasn’t as slow as it used to be. Too fast-paced for most new phone models to make it past their six-month mark before it was time to stop manufacturing and making capital, moving onto the next one. From what you understood, a new model of home security cameras could go on the market one day and be in the clearance pile before you got your next paycheck. Security tech became your playground after a few years, and you didn’t have enough money to buy anything. It never bothered you that you were always a step behind the latest tech because you had to wait a week until the latest model began showing up in dumpsters. It was never your intention to be faster than that. By the age of ten, you knew your priority was survival and in order to do that, you had to protect yourself with whatever means necessary. You had six different checkpoints in security on your living space not long after you became familiar with it. An additional four security cameras had been installed by your own two small hands around your building as well, at the entrance, elevator, your floor’s hall, and in front of your flimsy front door. All secretly controlled by you, without the knowledge of the outdated model of AI that ran your front desk, passively named Al- born of the building owner’s lack of creativity or care. Probably both.

You spent your days alone, in the tiny, insufferable hole in the wall place called your ‘home’. Where, as the years propelled to 2063 on your twelfth year, you chose to ignore most of the other inhabitants of this world. On a worn-out and broken faux leather armchair, perpetually stuck in the reclining position. Where you sat to work and where you slept and where you held your breath at the groaning sound omitted from its cushions every time you moved. You kept fixing it whenever it would break, dumping you from the side of it with a ‘plunk’ as the bars jumped off their tracks. You scowled every time they snapped the tracks completely. You worked to hone your skills in the world of technology, tinkering and learning every detail of every machine you could get your hands on from the dumpster behind your building. Sometimes if you were lucky, the building owner would forget to pay the trash removal services and it would pile up for weeks. Heaps of smelly trash were a small price to pay if it meant you could hit the jackpot and take several trips up and down the rickety old elevator with your arms full of tech.

Those were your happiest memories. Your body felt like jelly by the time you finished sorting through it all and bringing it up to your stash, carefully removing casings of microcomputers or game cartridges to get to the gold inside.

Everything was fine and although you couldn’t say you were content with your life- you didn’t hate it. You loved the freedom to be left alone and the peace of your tinkering tech. Perhaps a little impatient to grow up, but with every passing year, you celebrated quietly to yourself during the days you had been told your birth date fell. Somewhere between these seven days, you pulled up the same app on every smartphone you had in your possession and ran quickly around your makeshift room trying to blow out twenty digital candles in one big breath- careful not to trip over small piles of tech as you went.

It became a blur after you turned twelve. Somewhere along the timeline not long after that, a man started showing up to the apartment and threw off the balance you had so carefully maintained. You never knew his name, but you remember his face, his cologne, and his voice, and the way his eyes sparkled with something that sank in the pit of your stomach the first time you laid eyes on him. Most of all, even now, you remember him in your restless nightmares and the raw feeling of vindictive rage that in your weakest moments, reminds you that you’re alive, if only by the boiling heat of your blood rushing through your ears. In those moments, when your vision goes fuzzy with the desire to see him suffer and rot miserably in the deepest pits of hell, preferably bleeding and screaming.

You remember him from a time past, standing in the kitchen with your parent, one of her arms curled around his thick neck and the other raised in the air, his fingers closed around her slim wrist. The suit he wore looked expensive, and their bodies were slowly bending over the kitchen table in a strange dance, waiting for her back to snap and flatten against the wooden surface. Their eyes flashed to yours for less than a heartbeat as you walked to the refrigerator, laughing at something that lulled in the silence.

The next time you saw him he had fed your cohabitant something so toxic she passed out on the floor beside the couch. Then he spoke to you. In his deep baritone, he sounded like he smoked too many cigarettes too often. Or drank a bottle of razor blades.

“Pretty little thing ain’t ye?” he asked, dipping his head through the curtain that thinly veiled your world from outside eyes.

You ignored him, choosing to pretend as if the headphones situated on your head were actually producing audio. So he hit you.

Then he hit you again, screaming at you for ignoring him and calling you a bitch, whatever that meant. You heard it slung at your parent enough to know it was derogatory.

You didn’t even scream, you remember. Very clearly you sat shocked, but tears spilled down your cheeks from the pain alone. The heat you felt on your cheek, swelling and rough as if you’d fallen off a motorized bike and gotten road rash on your face.

Your fingers rose and you can recall them vividly, shaking as they reached to touch at your cheek and the hiss of pain as you recoiled from yourself.

Then, you try not to visualize it, but it won’t go away. You remember the feeling of his hand grabbing yours as it froze in midair, yanking you from the protection and warm affection of your old faux leather chair. It growled as he ripped you from its grasp in protest, pulling you so hard the force nearly dislocated your shoulder while he simply tossed you on the floor.

You remember the feeling of his fingers pulling at your clothes and then pain. Extreme pain, so brutal and fast it took your breath away. Your face throbbed as his palm fit perfectly across your whole skull, pushing your head onto the rough wood planks below.

You screamed, but you don’t remember if any sound came out, or if it was just that nobody cared that you did so. You screamed and cried, trying to crawl away as he grabbed at you. There was a ‘whoosh’ feeling as the air was ripped from your lungs when something burning sunk, forcing itself a home of darkness that never should have been between your soul and your corporeal form.

And then nothing.

You remember waking up to the sharp scent of blood, confirming it when you saw it on the floor around you, glistening and wet in the faint glow of computers. You remember the pain that shot between your legs as you tried to sit up properly, groaning as fresh tears worked down your cheeks. The cry that left you rippled pain across your face, too, and you remember crawling yourself over to your beloved chair and leaning against the comfort of its worn fabric as you reached for any of the smartphones you had.

For the first time ever, the brightness of a screen made you flinch back in the darkness. Persevering, you opened the camera and turned it to selfie mode, inspecting your face in the digital reflection. Your right cheek was fat and red, and two purple circles were clearly left in the wake of where his gaudy rings hit your skin. The stain on your skin crept up below your eye.

You made yourself calm down enough to quell the sobs wracking your chest to softer whimpers and tears to help the pain in your cheek stop.

It happened again some unknown weeks later. Your parent so stoned and drunk she passed out blissfully somewhere else and he came to you again. Your begging did you no good, and you were no match for his strength. Why hadn’t you run the moment you could stand on your legs again after the first assault? Why hadn’t you hauled every piece of your tech and saved dime from your bank account or gone to the nice old man across the street for help? Deep down, you knew. You were confident enough to know he would find you and smart enough to know he would kill you when he did.

The second time, you wished you had a gun or a knife. Not just cameras to catch him in the act. Or something that would make him stop and leave you alone. It was just as bad as the first, except this time you didn’t pass out. You did your best to stay still, compliance your only weapon in hoping he goes away that much sooner if you let it be over with. It still hurt just as bad, and he still left you in a puddle of white and red wetness on the floor. The scent of blood made you dizzy.

For the first time in your life, you begged. You begged the adult that raised you and fed you until you could do it yourself. For just once you desperately wished to talk to her and confirm. To make her do something to save you. You were terrified you wouldn’t be able to save yourself, and if this were the last thing she would ever do for you, if it were the last time you would ever see her, you would be grateful if she would just do something to save her daughter.

Hopelessness and an unending free-fall of terror are what you received. You were stronger than she was, and nearly her height by now, with a young healthy body not wrought with substance abuse. You forced her to sit still and keep her eyes open. To keep watching the video even though you couldn’t watch it yourself, barely able to weather the sounds coming from the captured footage.

When it was over, you hadn’t realized you were crying. Your vision blurred when you opened your eyes, with wet cheeks that felt the rush of air as you maneuvered in front of her and gingerly knelt on the floor to beg at her knees. You gathered her hands in her lap, struggling to hold them as you repeated your pleas.

She ignored them, literally shaking and gasping for breath and telling you it wasn’t real. Telling you it never happened. When you forced it upon her and threatened to go to the police with it she pulled your hair and screamed at you. Screamed that you were an idiot and that he would kill you both because didn’t you know who he was? Didn’t you know the power that man held over so many? No, you didn’t.

And it suddenly dawned on you, she was just as scared. She was scared and terrified and unable to grasp any semblance of control over what that man did anymore. She was a fool to think she ever did, and you were a fool to have a sliver of faith in her. So you left to clear your head, much to her cries not to. Born out of anxiety, fearful you would go to the police.

You walked farther than you thought you could as you attempted to regain the strength in your legs. Slowly, and by the time you returned the sun had fully set, but an orange glow caught your attention from the rooftop, one floor above yours. Wisps of smoke, too. Odd, nobody ever went up there.

A single stray cord and a plastic piece of backing laid on the floor between the elevator and your door, and your heart sunk back down all fourteen floors. You were out of breath and the pain between your legs was searing by the time you shoved your way through the metal door to the roof.

Sitting on the ledge was a gaunt, familiar face. She was smoking a cigarette, watching the flames and smoke from three rust-stained barrels. Inside of them was most of your tech. Your cameras, a few handfuls of smartphones, seven computers, gaming consoles, tablets.

You barely remember what happened after that, but you know it was a lot of screaming and a burn when you attempted to kick one of them and stomp out the flames. That day was the catalyst that made you take action, planning to escape from hell. If there was no chance to be saved by someone else, you would have to do it yourself.

Racing the clock on a high of anxiety, you only prayed that for three days he wouldn’t show up. You only needed three days.

On the afternoon of the second day, you hadn’t realized you were alone in the small apartment of your old and outdated building. You were too busy working like lightning to beat an imaginary deadline on your heels. You hadn’t noticed she had left until you came out shortly to use the restroom and find some crackers.

There he was at the kitchen table, the cheap metal legs of the chair bowing under his mass. You froze, watching him in shock and briefly you let your eyes wander around the living room to realize she wasn’t there. His voice was low as he told you she passed out in the elevator hours ago.

The chair made a horrible scuffing sound as he stood up, and you flinched. It didn’t matter once he took your wrist in his grip, and he made you suffer once more.

Something unhinged him this time, and even through the pain and nausea and the attempt to make yourself faint just to not have to live through it, you felt it. Felt the psychotic shift in his brain as he laughed at your pain.

It broke something inside of you. Escape. Do not let him do this to you. Definitely do not give up and let it happen. Retaliate. Fight. Get away. Run. Live.

You barely recall how you came to the conclusion, or how you stomached the grotesque way, when he leaned over your back, you turned your head. How you took the easiest thing to reach- his right ear lobe- between your teeth, and mangled him for all you were worth.

The gratification was immediate as he sprang from you, shoving you forward and holding his head. You remember no pain in that moment, and smiling with adrenaline, breathless but with lungs full of oxygen at the same time. You bolted before he could come back to his senses, grabbing your bag from your chair, thankfully nearly complete, and ran out, fixing your clothing along the way.

He tried to get up fast enough to stop you, lunging for you with one hand as you made it into the hallway, but whatever adrenaline you were on was potent, and your senses were razor sharp. You ducked his hand, hearing him barrel into the wall with his momentum as you made for the elevator.

You watched in slow motion the hopeless rage morph onto his stubbled face, knowing he wouldn’t catch you in time. Letting go of his ear, you saw it maimed, the bottom half missing, an obvious mouth-shaped crest bleeding heavily onto the floor as he reached instead to procure a gun from his jacket.

Although your heart leaped at the sight of it as the metal door creaked open behind you, his hands were messy, and the gun slipped from his bloody grip.

Turning to get on, you hesitated for just a second when you saw her there, passed out in the corner of the elevator. You shoved the button for the lobby as hard as you could, planning to rip the wires from the panel behind Al’s desk the moment it reached the bottom. It would give you enough time to get away as he descended the stairs.

You remember watching her sleep, but an eerie sense of foreboding grew in the intimate space the lower the elevator went, despite the beauty of golden hour cityscape from the window that served as the back wall of the capsule.

It took a few moments for you to realize the sun looked odd against her skin. Her hair didn’t catch the rays, nor did her lips hold the same color or fullness of your own, a feature you had in common. She looked sick.

An unfamiliar emotion welled in you. Some concoction of fear, sadness, and a heavy sense of solitude congealed in your chest and your throat as you crouched beside her quietly, afraid to make a sound.

Hesitantly, you touched her shoulder, immediately recoiling at the unnatural stone of her form, refusing to be pliant under the gentle press of your fingers. Swallowing the bile that rose in your throat, you grasped her shoulders, shaking her. Her body slid further down the wall when you let go. It remained there on the floor in an unnatural and rigid stillness, heavy.

You tripped as you receded backward, falling against the smooth metal of the door. Terror overcame you and a bewildering sense of lonely unknown stood towering before you in your mind’s eye. Not that you expected to ever see her again. Not that you expected to care, you hated her. But you hadn’t wanted her to die.

“Mom,” you remember choking up her title in reverence, the one and only time in your life you’d ever said the word.

You groaned with pain, suddenly powerless without the adrenaline that was just coursing through your veins. Everything hurt. Your vision, your head, your body, your heart. You were going to throw up. But you’d be damned if you did it before you escaped. You were so close. Just a little further.

Your mouth watered with the impending expulsion of your gut, but you managed to fall backward out of the elevator and stumble to your feet, feeling heavy as you trudged past Al’s inquiry of your health to the panel, ripping every wire out with your fist.

Just once you threw up beside the revolving door of your building before entering. You staggered through it after, feeling a rush of fresh air that told your very soul it was over.

You did it. Now you just had to make sure you survived, but you were good at that.

_________________

April, 2072

You pursed your lips, scowling at the bitter, sour flavor of the lollipop settled on your tongue. Leaning to the right, you lifted your hand from the grip of your bars, reaching through the thickness of your helmet through the open visor and whipping the candy from your mouth with a grimace.

You slowed, unable to afford a littering fine if you just threw it to the wind behind you, even though you wanted to rebel in that way. Too many high-tech cameras on the city streets to get away with anything unless you had the money to pay off the cops.

Which, unfortunately, you didn’t.

Twisting forward to squeeze the brake, you let your bike lull into a quiet purr as you pull off onto a quiet road, looking for the correct receptacle. You let it crawl forward, along the curb, and over a storm drain so you can lean over and drop the candy into the trash. For a moment, you lick your lips, pulling your backpack around to rummage through the bag of lollies inside for a better flavor.

While you search for a strawberry- your favorite- you weigh the pros and cons of just buying a bag of strawberry flavor instead of the assortment. Price, for starters, you scoff to yourself, remembering to pluck the sour apple wrapper from your pocket to toss into the trash. Exclusive flavor bags are more expensive, but you don’t waste as much by throwing out every god damned green apple you pluck from the bag.

Frowning when you come up empty-handed, you take the second-best choice, unwrapping the dark red of a cherry lolly when a presence catches your attention. A man, tall and thin, clothed in dark colors standing still against the bustle of the city. There’s a black baseball cap on his head, pressed down over dark red curls that peek out at the edges.

He’s wearing square, dark-tinted sunglasses that block out his eyes, with ears that bow out from his skull, and you briefly register that he’s built the same all around, in large proportions, from his hands to his face to his towering height.

Even in the late afternoon, his visage glows with artificial color as he basks in the light of a large television displayed in the storefront window. Although his attire tells you he’s trying to conceal his identity, he doesn’t seem to stick out, going ultimately unnoticed by the people passing by him.

His face is turned towards the television as a news channel covers a fire at a large corporate building from last night. It shows impressive plumes of flame and thick smoke, even darker than the night sky, glowing faintly with billions of lights.

The man watching the television bounces a short stick between his teeth, but you can’t tell what it is from this distance. You notice his face moves, the apples of his cheeks rising high as he smiles wide, easily a head above the crowd.

The sound of sirens from the recording of the fire dins away to the sound of an audio clip taken from a phone call. A man’s voice, clearly distorted with an autotune. Raspy, dark laughter, and a bitter promise to chase someone to hell.

A small part of you is smug, rooting for the villain even, and his vicious words to whomever the message are, or was, intended.

The sun is starting to set, and you hate having to watch the skyline glitter with the golden light as you drive on. It’s an unwanted and unnecessary memory, unforgiving in the distance of your timeline.

Luckily, you enter the undercity just as the light grows intense, escaping into the sleepless neon of your world. Into the black market and the tech industry, rife with people who thrive on a never-ending night, as if their veins are made of glass and filled with inert gases to make them glow just as brightly as the buildings here.

You’ve got a lead from a friend of sorts. Someone who you’ve got a history with from your days at the bordello, and who kept you alive once upon a time when you first came to the undercity, terrified but determined to forget yourself and be born as someone stronger, smarter, better.

He’s never given you bad intel before, so long as you could get to it before a clan or a faster loaner. Luckily, you have a natural gift for hacking and the latest model of ‘unhackable’ Hyperbikes are no exception to your deft fingers.

You pull up outside Blue House, scanning the digital bulletin for the job he mentioned. You press your finger to it, holding your breath for the marquee to inform you whether it’s still up for grabs, or if it is unfortunately for you- in progress.

A smile cracks your lips when the green light pops up, and you whip your glove off when the prompter asks to scan your left thumb. A second passes as the soft blue light moves across your finger, chirping in confirmation when it’s done.

You don’t even care what the job is- but Chan promised it would be something you could do. All you remember is hearing a payment sum that could put good food in your stomach for a month straight. The only question you had was why a tech hacking job was showing up on a brothel’s bulletin board.

Ultimately, what was one more undercover prostitution job? You were familiar with the work that came through the bordello, and its basic services. In the last two years, you’ve moved away from it little by little, having made some waves with your work as a hacker in the undercity. Your moniker started to be whispered across the shadows as the underdog, a genius ‘for the people’ hacker that put bad men where they belonged. Only Chan knew you by two names. The rest of the world only knew one.

The name Maneater.

#heat seekers #chanyeol x reader #chanyeol fanfiction #dead dove do not eat #exo fanfiction #chanyeol angst #exo angst #chanyeol fic #exo fic

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everythingnerdyxoxo · 3 years

Text

The Virus ~Chapter One - X7231

Just a little fanfiction I've been working on...!

The sounds of breaking furniture, cheers and shouts filled the Fairy Tail Guildhall just like any other afternoon. Gray and Natsu had started fighting over something irrelevant and once again just about everyone had joined in on the fight. Lucy and Wendy sat at the bar with Mirajane watching the ruckus unfold in front of them.

‘My, my, their rather energetic this afternoon, aren’t they?’ Mirajane spoke with a smile, seemingly unfazed at the mess in front of her.

‘You can say that again.’ Lucy watched with her head leant again the bar counter. ‘I’d rather be earning rent money than watching this.’

Wendy laughed at her statement. ‘We only just got back from a job, have you spent everything already?’

‘Well, after paying for my rent, and using some of that money to pay for the damages Natsu caused to the city, it’s left me with enough money to last me a day.’ Lucy stated with a sigh.

‘Ah yes, Natsu was a bit over the top wasn’t he.’ Wendy rested her hand on Lucy’s head in support.

‘Natsu is always over the top!’ Lucy threw up her arms exasperatedly. Taking Mira and Wendy by surprise. ‘Geez, there was a really nice top on sale in my favourite boutique as well. I was really hoping to buy it before the price went up again.’ Lucy stated dropping her head back onto the bar.

‘Oh dear. I should probably break this fight up before Juvia tries to take her clothes off again.’ Mirajane said with a smile before leaving Wendy to help with Lucy’s self-pity.

‘Mirajane.’ With the mention of her name, she stopped approaching the fight and turned to their current master; Makarov Dreyar.

‘Oh Master! I was just about to break up this fight. I hope it didn’t disturb you.’ Smiling at her current master she could tell the look on his face meant something was wrong. ‘Is everything alright, Master?’

With a sigh Makarov looked towards his children of Fairy Tail, before climbing onto a nearby table and clearing his throat.

‘That’s enough! I have something important to say!’ His voice boomed throughout the guildhall catching the attention of everyone and stopping the fight immediately.

‘Aww Gramps! I was so close to frying this ice-princess!’ Natsu hit his forehead against Gray’s as he spoke. ‘You wish flame-brain!’ Their magical aura’s built as they prepared to fight once more.

‘You can do it Gray-Sama! You’re so much stronger than he is!’ Juvia released Gajeel from the headlock she still held him in to raise her arms in a cheer.

‘Natsu. Gray. The Master has something important to say we must listen.’ Erza’s aura engulfed the two mages causing an almost immediate reaction. ‘Yes Sir!’ ‘Aye Sir!’ Linking arms, they turned their attention to Master Makarov as did everyone in the Guild.’

Clearing his voice once again he spoke. ‘Now that I have everyone’s attention. I have just been contacted by the Grand Magic Council via Lacrima.’

In that one statement most, glances turned to Natsu, expecting this to have something to do with him.

‘I do not want to worry anyone. We are currently unsure of the extent of this but there has been an outbreak of a virus in Onibus Town. We do not know the cause of this virus or how serious, but we have been informed that we are advised against all but essential travel to Onibus Town. Therefore, all jobs to this area have been cancelled.’ After a few collected groans Makarov left the guildhall entering his office with Mirajane following behind him.

‘Onibus Town? That’s near Clover Town, right? Where the Master goes for his meetings?’ Wendy looked to Lucy who seemed deep in thought about what they had just been told.

‘Yes Wendy. We’ve been there a few times to perform plays as part of a job.’ Erza headed over to them at the bar, ignoring the continuation of the fight behind her.

‘A virus. That seems ominous don’t you think? You don’t think it has anything to do with Zeref do you?’ Lucy looked concerned at the S class mage in front of her.

‘Who knows. All we can do is assess the situation as it comes for now.’ Erza looked on towards her master’s office appearing deep in thought.

Next chapter: https://everythingnerdyxoxo.tumblr.com/post/663517942822076416/the-virus-chapter-two-x7233

#fairy tail #fanfiction #the virus #chapter one #outbreak #juvia lockser #gray fullbuster #lucy heartfilia #natsu dragneel #nalu #gruvia #jerza #erza scarlett #jellal fernandes

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bitchfitch · 3 years

Note

Aleistar and Haze with grey to multi-coloured? :O (i am just really fond of the grey to multi-colored for some reason)

this one was just Sweet, Tooth Rotting, just Absolutely Delectable and it has Killed me.

zjsnnsnsns thank you for the prompt!

A Blue Armchair

There was a blue armchair in Aleistar's living room. It was his chair, more sonthan any of the others in his home. It was where he had gone to relax and read or to watch the city far below from his window for almost a decade now. A home within a home.

It was a blue armchair, but he only knew it was blue because the clerk at the furniture store had assured him it was blue when he bought it.

Aleistar had never really bemoaned the lack of color in his life. As far as he was concerned color didn't matter. Simply put, he'd never once in his 56 years of life seen color, so he couldn't exactly miss it. Couldn't morn it, or really notice that it wasnt there. He knew he was lacking color, of course he did, he saw it in the art works made to only be viewable by those who had found their soul mates, and he saw it in, as he got older, how everyone around him would look at him with some passive pitty. How his friends stopped inviting him out so that he might meet someone who would show him color, and how people had begun to whisper about him when they thought he wasn't listening.

Of course there were millions of people who never saw color, who's soulmates died before they met, or who died before they could bring color to their own soulmate, or who just never had one.

For a while he had fancied himself one of the last types. He wasn’t a warm and caring man and he'd never felt the draw to find his other half that everyone described. But those types always said they felt complete as they were, that even without a soulmate they were truly happy.

Aleistar thought he was one of them until he broke down, drunk and crying against his best friends shoulder. He didn’t remember much, of what he said the next day, just that now that he'd accidentally picked open this wound it was seeping constantly.

///

Leonard had handed him the book as a joke.

It was old and bound in a musty smelling leather but its pages were pristine. Leo said it's title translated something like "Desperation and Victory" but Aleistar couldn't make it out on the books front. The lettering was the same value as the leather it was printed on, and something about that felt like it was meant to be an insult.

///

He almost made it a week before he read the book for the first time.

He sat in his old armchair that the clerk at the furniture shop had told him was blue, and put his feet up on his coffee table which was a deep brown according to Leo, and flicked through the pages that he suspected would be yellow if they weren't just as grey as everything else.

///

The book had made it sound so effortless to trade his soul for the chance to have everything he could ever want. It listed wealth and riches and beauty or talent as examples of what someone might ask for, but all he wanted was to meet his soulmate.

A fancy circle here and a few drops of blood there, and boom he'd have a demon who could find them for him.

Was it worth it though? Was giving up his soul to meet someone he was already fated to meet worth it?

///

A month passed. he was 57 now.

Fifty-seven.

That number hurt to think about. He wasn’t old old yet, but he had three years until his planned retirement, and an average of maybe eighteen more to follow, if he was lucky.

///

He spent a lot of nights crying in the armnchair he was told was blue with the book he thought of as yellow in his lap. He still remembered how badly he had wanted a family when he was young. Two kids. He'd always wanted two because it felt right to him. If they were both conceived today he was likely to be dead before they would be old enough to share a drink together at his favorite bar.

Had he truly wasted his life? Had he let himself become so comfortable with the grey that he let a lifetime of color pass him by?

He was 57. His college classmates were all probably starting to welcome grandchildren now.

He was 57 and hed already been invited to so many funerals.

He dreaded that he might have already missed his soulmate's.

///

Aleistar habitually took notes at work, always had, but now they were more summoning circles than to-do lists.

///

He was 57, and he didn't care about having a soul anymore, because he desperately needed to find his soulmate and knew he would do whatever he needed to do to make that happen.

///

The flash of the circle igniting all at once almost made him regret this decision.

For a moment all that his senses could take in was the stark white light followed by a blurred buzzing of sensation as he struggled back onto his feet after having been thrown by the force of the demon entering his home.

He was older, and his joints creaked under him as he finally got eyes on the hell beast who would own his soul in a scant few minutes.

He met the demon's eyes across the boundaries line of his summoning circle, his body going tight and rigid as the demon stared right back at him.

The demon's eyes were black and round and open wide. His lips were also black, and his teeth a sharp white where they showed in the slight gape mouthed expression the demon wore. The grey scale that Aleistar knew so well, that he had been so comfortable with for all these years, could hold only the demon's eyes and lips and teeth within itself.

Aleistar had heard that when someone finally found their soul mate they would be able to name one or two colors wothout being told what they were.

Maybe thats why he knew the demon's hair was blue. Deep dark blue. Like the sky at midnight if all the stars blinked out of existence. The ring around the demon's neck, along with its counter parts around his horns, and upper arms, and thighs had to be gold. True pure gold that could buy out everything he had ever owned and still be only a tiny fraction of the way through it's value.

Blue and gold were the colors he could name, Blue for the demons hair and lashes, gold for his markings, But the paled so much next to the color of the demon's skin. Warm and strange and beyond inhuman. Decadent, and bold and rare. and so... magic. So very magical. The color of this demon's skin would be his favorite from now on, and nothing would ever manage to compare to it again.

Nothing would ever again manage to compare to the demon who was slowly standing from where he had been knelt. The corners of his lips were up turned in a way that was almost a smile, more disbelieving than joyous but well on its way towards that destination.

"Hello-" the demon tried to speak, his voice smooth and low as he blurred at the edges, like a fog cloud barely forced into the shape of a man, but his voice cought in his throat as he swirled around the circle, to just look at everything, "Did… Did everything just get very… colorful for you?" the demon asked with a weak but hopeful smile as he pressed his hands up against the invisible boundry between them.

Aleistar thought he'd be scared to approach a demon, that this part would make his stomach turn. But he took the demon's hands in his own without hesitation and without flinching at the feeling of his soft and hell hot skin burning his own just that little bit.

Oh the demon was beautiful, not just his colors that felt so unearthly after of a lifetime of grey, but his fine and delicate features that buzzed around the edges like he might vanish if Aleistar stopped looking at him.

Aleistar wanted to speak, wanted to say Something to the demon, but he was still struck dumb by the boiling joy and wonder in his own chest that bubbled over everything he met the demon's eyes again.

Some faint part of Aleistar's brain told him he should be panicked about how just holding this demon's hands made all the colors that much more intoxicatingly vibrant. That he shouldn't be on the verge of tears or laughter in this moment because all these colors could mean only one thing

"The silent type huh? Are you broody too?" the demon tried to joke before he caught himself even as his delicat fingers held onto Aleistar's a little tighter, "Oh, uh, the contract. You summoned me because you want me to find you your soulmate right? Uhm," the demon smiled and Aleistar knew he was grinning too.

Finally, Aleistar understood all those people hed seen collide in the middle of the walkway. Desperate to just touch and hold their other half after far too long separated from them.

"Wow, ok, so I knew I was exceptionally good at my job, but this is a new record for me," The demon babbled on, "Uhm, I- You see the colors too right? I'm not just going crazy, and this is real, right?"

"It is, I- It really is isnt it?" Aleistar was laughing softly and he didn't know why, but the demon was laughing too now and pulling him closer and past the edge of the circle.

The book had been very specific about never being in the circle with an un named demon, said that the demon could use all sort of tricks against you if you made that mistake, but this one seemed perfectly content to just press up against him while burrying his face in the fabric of Aleistar's shirt. Still holding his hands and still chucking something that was almost a hiccups as he sought out his soulmate's touch.

Aleistar wrapped his arms around the demon, around his soulmate just to hold him close for the moment it took them both to stop giggling like school boys. There was something impossibly grounding about holding the demon, something that made him determined to never let his soulmate go

The demon's cute little horns bumped up against his chin every time either of them moved and there was something just immensely endearing about that to Aleistar, so he pressed a kiss to one, marveling at how his skin buzzed from such a little touch before doing it again and again until he was peppering his soulmate's face with kisses that carried all the emotions he couldn't put into words.

"I still need to make a contract with you," his soulmate said after Aleistar tried to kiss him properly for the first time, "I- I've already found you your soulmate, so you're going have to ask for something else… Something that will take very long for me to deliver on so I dont have to leave you," He looked up from where he was still pressed against Aleistar's chest, those coal black eyes so hopeful.

"Be mine," Aleistar said without thinking, "Stay with me and just- Just be mine," smiling this much was starting to hurt, "Please," he cupped either side of the demon's face in his hands to tilt him up just that little bit more, "Please," he repeated again, his breath tight and nervous in his chest like he was just a school boy confessing to his crush under the slide, light and nervwracking and desperate for things he didn't fully understand yet.

The demon grinned and nodded, "Give me a name and it will be done," his hands braced against Aleistar's chest, his fingers tangling in the fabric as he tried to ground himself there.

Aleistar nodded and took a breath just to steady himself enough to not stutter. He remembered all the ways you could name a demon that the book had listed, all the ways you could bind one to yourself and all the ways those ways could fail, but there was only one he had any interest in trying in that moment.

"Haze," he said, a single syllable to describe his soulmate completely, it was all he needed. If the fervor with which Haze kissed him the moment the his new name was spoken was anything to go off of, then Aleistar felt confident in assuming he'd chosen correctly.

When they finally slowed to let Aleistar catch his breath after minutes of heavy petting and being too needy to let the other more than an inch or two away, they were sat in an armchair that Aleistar didn't need to be told was blue anymore.

#nsnznznznznznnznznznz #haze: im just going to do my thing #just gonna manwhore mansplain male wife my way into getting another soul #im a millinea old demon with no soul mate bc i Obviously would have already found them by now if i had one #doot doot doo lovin my best life #Oh Shit #Oh Holy Shit #Aaaaaaaaaaaa

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prose-for-hire · 4 years

Text

The ghost of romance future

Part Two // Part Three

Pairing: Spike x reader (gender neutral, I will specify fem! or male! if otherwise)

Request: reader is slightly older than the scoobies and really protective of them, especially buffy. The reader hates spike because of how he's bragged about killing slayers in the past. However, a while after he gets the chip, they start to grow on each other, and eventually fall for each other. Sort of an enemies to lovers type of deal. I really really love your stories, I think they might just be my favorite btvs fics fr. Even if you don't do this request, thanks for all the great writing! ❤

Requested by: Anon

Warnings: Swearing. There’s a little heated kissing but idk if that needs a warning lol

A/N: Flattery will get u everywhere with me apparently. Kind asks totally get my inspiration flowing, also Spike and enemies to lovers. So, to sum up, this was one heavenly request for me!

Sunnydale was surprisingly quiet at the moment which meant bad things were probably on the horizon. You were smiling as you did your night-time routine though, thinking about something Spike had said to you that evening at the Bronze which had made you laugh. He was growing on you, ever since the Initiative chipped him, he had been a lot more fun to be around. You didn’t really like him when you first met, you weren’t even convinced by him a few months ago, but now you found yourself almost enjoying his company. Platonically, of course.

That night, as you started to get into bed the temperature in the room started to chill. It was as if you had unknowingly walked into a freezer. You jumped, dropping the sheet you had pulled back for you to slip into as a voice boomed out of nowhere, echoing against each wall in the room. You turned to see a ghost staring straight at you. Great, just what you needed.

“You will be visited by three ghosts tonight. The ghosts of romance beginning, possible and destiny” The figure spoke, apparently the powers that be were getting tired of you and Spike dancing around each other and decided to take direct action.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“The first apparition shall arrive when the clock strikes one” The figure spoke as it disappeared before your eyes. You groaned, you really didn’t need to see some warped Christmas Carol-style look at your past dates. But, that wasn’t what this was. As you fell deep into a sleep you had been fighting so that the apparition wouldn’t get its way, you had a dream. It was very similar to that of a prophetic dream you may or may not have been pretending to read about at a Scooby meeting a day previous.

The Beginning:

The first scene was a memory of yours from a while ago, which really was just lazy haunting on the spectre’s part. It was one of the times that you had finished shouting at Spike for being just plain nasty to your younger friends. You were a few years older than the other Scoobies, making you the protective, ‘parent’ friend. Any advice, worries or study support and you were there. You particularly worried about Buffy, the responsibility she held got her down sometimes and you felt protective of her as if she was your little sister. You wished you could protect her from everything that came her way.

When Spike, having ignored your rant, started to follow Buffy through a darkened graveyard, you stepped out. You had no super-strength, no secret powers, but you did have an attitude and a protective streak. So you blocked his path.

“No”

“Wh-”

“Just no, Spike. Leave her alone” You warned. He enjoyed taunting her with threats and stories of his past exploits, especially gruesomely detailing the way he killed slayers in the past.

“I was just gonna offer my services”

“There are no services you can provide that are gonna make Buffy listen to you. Go home”

“Jealousy looks cute on you, pet”

“Just – go” You warned. He smirked, moving in. He grabbed your upper arm, a mean look as he pulled you into him so he could whisper in your ear. But you thought fast, “Ow! Ow that really hurts!” You hissed, wincing and shaking in pain as he dropped your arm and started to clutch his own head in agony. He hadn’t realised he had gripped your arm that tight. Bloody breakable human bones.

But you straightened up as he started to clutch his head, smiling a satisfied grin before winking. He hadn’t hurt you. You had been pretending, which still fired off the chip because he thought he had caused pain.

“I bloody hate you!” he shouted, still rubbing his head, “Spiteful fucking bitch” He seethed, pointing at you angrily. Wishing he could twist your arm out of its socket and cause excruciating pain you had just given him. He stalked off, the opposite direction from both you and Buffy which had been your goal to begin with, so you were satisfied.

The Possibility:

The second dream sequence was, again, some pretty lazy ghosting in your opinion. It was you and Spike at the magic box last week. You found yourselves sat together as the others excitably skipped to the dance floor. You and Spike were left nursing your drinks together.

“Alright, love?” he asked as you watched the others with a little smile. You weren’t so much older, but old enough that you looked at them fondly as if you were reminiscing about being as carefree as them in your youth. They didn’t get the chance often and you saw Buffy and Riley dancing together which made you happy for her. She needed something like this, something more stable.

“Yeah, it’s just a nice evening” You smiled at Willow and Tara as they gave you a little wave, shaking your head as they tried again to get you to join them and dance.

“Too right, bagged more than one demon and the onion flower’s back on the menu” Spike said, looking over at the bar. He wasn’t too bothered by what the others were doing.

“Onion flower?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t tried it”

“I haven’t” you shrugged, sipping on your soda. As much as you enjoyed partying with the others, you wanted to keep an eye out and get them all home safe at the end of the night. They were mostly new to drinking so you wanted to be on hand and sober if there were any disasters.

“You haven’t lived! Bloody brilliant, they soak it in water first then fry it – shallow – on both sides until golden”

You were staring at the dance floor as he spoke animatedly, his hands gesturing, clearly this was a particular favourite of his. You looked at him, an amused smile on your face. It made his face harden, he hadn’t realised how carried away he had gotten. He looked a bit embarrassed and you couldn’t help the genuine smile that spread across your face.

“Hey, that sounds pretty cool” You offered him, he was clearly expecting you to make fun of him or run to the microphone at the front and announce loud to the entire Bronze that he was actually really lame and not at all scary. He looked at you for a moment, almost as if he wanted to say something more. Offer more than the usual insults you both traded, but he just got up to get himself another drink – not offering to buy you a round.

However, Spike came back with a smug grin and an onion flower which he set in front of you. You couldn’t help smiling softly at his enthusiasm, it was almost endearing. His face faltered as he saw the way you were looking at him, he felt something suspiciously close to affection rising in his chest, connecting through clusters of nerves throughout his entire body. This was when he realised he liked you. He really liked you. Oh no.

The Destiny:

The third ghost brought you somewhere that was not yet in your memory, but you were very pleased with the way it made you feel. It was unusual, you felt older but nothing about Sunnydale had apparently changed. Spike was in your apartment, a place he had never been invited before but he walked around the place as if he knew it. As if it were his own house.

It was like you were watching a romantic film, the anticipation whether the love interest would kiss you being almost painful. You were staring at him as he moved around your kitchen with ease, making you a hot drink and taking some blood from your fridge. You yearned for him and could tell he felt the same. The subtle glances, the desire for the other’s touch.

He smiled when he saw you watching, you walked into the kitchen, taking your cup and sipping it slowly. It was made exactly how you like it. Spike moved so that he was looping his arms around your waist from behind. You hummed, staring out of the window into the cool night. You felt calm, safe. Something you had never thought about with Spike but you had a feeling that after this dream, it was all you were going to be feeling.

“I’m so glad I’ve got you, love… never thought we’d actually do it mind”

“I could never imagine my life without loving you, Spike. It just feels so right” You found your mouth moving of its own accord.

“Mm, and a little wrong… in a good way” he smirked, moving into your neck as he mumbled the words. He pressed some soft kisses there as he thought about the way you had become his. He loved you, not able to stop himself grinning like an idiot when you were around him still. The strangest part was that you knew he loved you and your feelings complimented his perfectly.

“In the best way” You confirmed, finding yourself smiling. You set the mug down, knowing what was coming as he spun you around to face him. He smirked, eyeing you as you smiled in anticipation.

There was that familiar look in his eye before he moved in, you felt blunt teeth grazing your neck, your own breathy moans ricocheting around the room as you grasped at his shirt. You clutched at strands of his blonde hair, his kisses heated but with an underlying affection he could never shake when it came to you. he pressed you against the kitchen counter, laying kisses so hot they felt as if they were marking your skin, his lips branding you as his. They were on yours now, you moaned into his mouth as his hands started to roam and this is where the dream ended.

It was disappointing, the anticipation was killing you and you longed for this to be real some day. You woke with a start, jolting up in bed. You woke to find yourself alone in your apartment, desperately missing Spike’s touch. His kiss. His love.

Whatever had been going on last night, you were sure you would never see Spike the same again and honestly, you didn’t really want to.

#spike x reader #spike x you #spike imagine #spike btvs #btvs imagine #btvs x reader #btvs oneshot #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #scooby reader #scooby gang x reader #gender netural reader #gender neutral #btvs #heated kissing #Riley Finn #Tara Maclay #Buffy Summers #dream sequence

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achildlikeprincess · 3 years

Text

♡ The Halloween Dollhouse ♡

Above in the Halloween evening air, raindrops gathered and waited to fall upon the trick-or-treaters below. The old trees lining the neighborhood sang darkly of autumn richness. Glazed, golden leaves fluttered down with the chilly wind, lining the damp sidewalk like magic stepping stones. Minnie and her friends, dressed as a gaggle of witches in unearthly frayed and glittering black rags, were dashing between the houses as fast as they could before the first raindrop fell.

"Hurry! We've got to get all the candy we can!" Penny shouted. She rang the next doorbell seven times, hopping up and down in her pointy black slippers. "Penny! Don't be rude! Oh, I can't believe it's going to rain on Halloween," sighed Daisy. "Oh my! What a scary group of witches! I hope you won't melt when the rain falls," the old man who answered the door chuckled, giving them each a chocolate bar just as the sky above shattered and began to pour. "Better hurry back!" "Thank you sir! We'll be okay!" Minnie called, and the girls took off running. They were headed to Minnie's, looking for her Jack-O-Lantern carved with a glowing bow through the downpour. Thunder boomed in their ears and the darkness seemed ever blacker as the wind made the ribbons of their hats shudder. Five little witches suddenly saw the sky flash with lovely yet dangerous silver lightning. Rain whispered across their faces and smeared the eerie green makeup into dripping tears. But the warmth of Minnie's house was waiting, and soon they were crowded into the bathroom giggling, washing away the green paint and changing into pajamas, popcorn heating in the microwave and a scary movie playing on television. "We didn't even get enough candy!" Penny grumbled, emptying her plastic purple pumpkin and counting only a few chocolate bars and boxes of fruit snacks. "Did...did worms just come out of their masks?!" Lilly squeaked, hiding her face in a pillow. "I'm going to be sick!" Daisy reached for the remote, but before she could turn the channel the sky erupted with thunder, making the little house tremble. It was the loudest thunder crack they had ever heard, and the lightning strike that followed left them in complete darkness. "Oh, the power's out!" Minnie hugged her dog Fifi, who was glad to have her home early from trick-or-treating, and had been cuddling beside her on the couch. "Don't worry, though, I've got flashlights and plenty of candles!" "But the popcorn didn't finish popping!" Clarabelle wailed. "Silly, I've got a box of cookies!" Minnie found her way into the kitchen, Fifi at her heels. She brought back hot pink flashlights, matches, candles, and a pretty gold box of pumpkin sugar cookies. "What are we going to do all night? Just pig out in the dark?" Daisy scowled. "Let's think of something fun, how about having a séance?" Clarabelle offered. "Nooo!" Lilly whimpered, wanting to hide under the couch if any ghosts showed up. "We're going to my room, and from there we're going to a Halloween party at a glamorous hotel," Minnie smiled, leading the way. Daisy, Penny, Clarabelle, and Lilly curiously followed. The rain fell steadily against the windowpanes as Minnie carefully placed candles around her room and lit them. Soft orange light shone upon where the party was to take place: Minnie's dollhouse. "We all left our dolls here yesterday, remember? So, we'll dress them up and pretend the dollhouse is a big, grand hotel with a ballroom!" The girls were enchanted by the idea. They crowded around Minnie's treasure trunk painted with flowers where she kept all of her doll clothes. There were even things inside like tiny paper roses, faded floral handkerchiefs, plastic tiaras, and scraps of delicate fabric. Clarabelle wound the handkerchiefs around her doll until she was shrouded in mystery. Daisy and Penny fought over the roses but found there were enough to share. Lilly chose the frothiest, glittering pink cloud of a dress she could find, while Minnie picked a beautiful white satin gown. Outside the storm drew on. Moonlight streamed through a curtain of rain into the candlelit room, making it all very cozy. Thunder rumbled quietly now, and Fifi nestled next to Minnie whenever the lightning flashed. "You're coming too, Fifi! Look!" Minnie said sweetly to her baby, and placed a porcelain dog figurine inside the dollhouse. She was painted the same rich brown as Fifi, and the little dog barked happily. The party was ready to begin. With the power out, the music floated from a trusty cassette player. Minnie chose a tape with old romantic songs like 'In the Still of the Night', 'Twilight Time', 'Stardust', and 'Midnight, the Stars and You'. Each girl gave her doll a piece of candy as they sat down at a perfect little pink table. Clarabelle wanted everyone to meet her doll first, Dahlia Dairymaid. "She's hosting the séance!" Clarabelle grinned, placing a jeweled keychain of Minnie's at the center of the table, making a real crystal ball. The girls joined her around the table, linking hands and closing their eyes. Lilly peeked as Dahlia began to speak quietly into the candlelit shadows, asking the spirits to appear. A crack of thunder made everyone jump out of their chairs. Suddenly they heard the click of high heels on the polished floors. "Instead of summoning a ghost, you've invited a beauty queen to the doll realm," Daisy's doll, Mary Lou Moonstone, placed her bouquet of roses on the table, the satin red petals shining in the dark. "And me! I'm here to tap-dance!" Lilly's doll, the child star Helen Shimmers, danced out of the darkness and whirled around the table. "Please! I need quiet to contact the other side," Dahlia shooed them away. "Flowers! Flowers to buy!" a sweet voice echoed. It was Penny's doll, Wendy Gardenwalk, entering the hotel with a basket of flowers she hoped to sell. "Let's buy some for the ghosts," Minnie giggled. "I have all the flowers I need!" Mary Lou turned up her nose. "Oh dear, I suppose we aren't communicating with any spirits tonight," Dahlia covered her crystal with a shroud of lace. "Minnie, where is your doll?" Lilly wondered. "Oh, she'll be singing later tonight. But first, we need to finish these cookies so she will have a stage!" The girls laughed and shared the pumpkin cookies, the orange sugar sparkling in the glow of the candles. The dolls finished their candy and tried to start the séance again, but Helen took Wendy's basket of flowers and danced into the labyrinth of hallways. "Give those back!" Wendy chased after her, and everyone followed them. Helen's high-pitched giggles echoed down the grand halls of the hotel. Wendy snatched the basket back, and began to laugh too. The dolls twirled down the hallway throwing pink petals into the air. They sprinkled down upon the shining floor like pumpkin seeds. "How lovely, a path of petals for the queen," Mary Lou's glossy shoes followed the plush petals to the ballroom, as Dahlia walked in a dreamlike haze, silently willing any spirits who might be walking with them to communicate with her. The storm was growing quiet, a silence waiting to be filled by a doll's haunting song. As everyone played make-believe about the hotel, Minnie couldn't help but to feel perturbed. They all were still in her room, weren't they? She looked at the furniture she was sure she had made for her dolls, but it seemed too real, and just her size. The glittery orange garland she had hung from the ceiling for her dolls weeks ago was too high for her to touch. A final crash of thunder made the candles tremble, the shivering light dazzled her. Minnie thought how strange it was the candles seemed so far away. Had they left her room? Shadows floated across the painted walls, playing with her mind. But she didn't have too much time to wonder about it. The cookies were finished and now the empty box would become the stage for her doll's singing debut. The golden doors of the ballroom waited to be opened, but would there be ghosts inside? Of course not! Only a party for sweet little girls and their beloved dolls. The ballroom was the brightest place in the hotel, a crystal chandelier pouring warm light that no storm could touch. "And now, the lovely Miss Claire Poupée will sing 'Mouse of My Dreams'," Minnie announced, smiling proudly as her doll took to the stage in her starlit white silk gown. She sang her sweet and wistful melody as the girls and their dolls swayed across the candlelit floor, giggling and cloaked in Halloween magic. "I'm so glad you girls joined us for the night," Claire smiled when her song was finished. "It would be so lovely if this Halloween night went on forever," "We wish it could too," Daisy said dreamily; Penny, Lilly, and Clarabelle nodded along, but Minnie crept to the edge of the dollhouse, knowing they had been inside it for the entire night. She peeked out into the darkened room where the candles burned quietly, and asleep on the floor of her bedroom, she and her friends were laying and holding tightly to their dolls. The hushed rain and autumn leaves fell so softly outside the window, filling a night that would be spent in the golden world of her dollhouse ballroom.

#minnie n me stories

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snusbandxknifewife · 4 years

Note

Cardan, Jude and Oak go to whatch some movie. Cardan is really enjoying it so somehow one kid sees his tail and wants to catch it. (I am not sure how things works, if people can have "sight"or maybe he can accidentely forget to glamour it because it is usualy hidden under trousers...)

Ok so I think I did a good job working around the whole “mortals can’t see through glamours” thing. I did this as a HC, I think it’s super cute, I loved this idea lol. Hope you like!

~~~~~

Halloween Shenanigans

•Ok so it’s the day before Halloween

•A Friday night, to be specific

•And Oak has BEGGED Cardan and Jude to come to the mortal world with him to watch scary movies

•Jude finally gave in

•Only because she wanted to see Cardan amazed by “mortal magic”

•So the three of them load into Vivi’s car and Jude drives them to the local drive-in theater

•Where a special Halloween event is going on

•Everyone is in costumes, the drive-in is gonna be playing old black-and-white horror movies

•Jude is dressed as Dorothy

•(She has magic red ruby (yes, real ruby) shoes (gifted by Cardan) that glimmer brighter than normal gems)

•Oak is dressed as the Scarecrow

•(He did his own makeup and made his own costume, he’s very proud)

•(Vivi was supposed to be the Tin Man, but she decided to stay home with Heather (Hubba Hubba))

•Cardan

•Cardan with the lion’s tail

•Is dressed as the Cowardly Lion

•So he doesn’t have to hide his tail (score)

•So they show up at the drive-in and get their spot

•They set up their picnic blanket and set out Vivi’s old boom box, turning it to the correct station so they’ll be able to hear the movies

•The lineup: Frankenstein (1931), Creature from the Black Lagoon (1954), and Night of the Living Dead (1968)

•Jude can’t fucking wait, she loves horror movies

•Cardan can’t fucking wait, he’s fascinated by mortal stuff

•(And Jude mentioned that it’s common for couples to cuddle out of fear when watching scary movies)

•(“H E L L Y E A H B A B E Y” -Cardan)

•Oak can’t fucking wait, the drive-in has the BEST popcorn A N D junior mints

•(He’d fucking die for junior mints)

•(Ok not actually, but he really likes them)

•So they’re all settled in, looking fucking adorable in their costumes, chillin with the food Jude’s bought

•They make it through Frankenstein with Jude only having to explain 90% of the movie, since Cardan misses it because he’s asking her questions about movie making, the movie industry, and the original Frankenstein book

•Jude finally promises to buy him the book

•(She also makes the mistake of talking about how Mary Shelley lost her virginity on her mother’s grave)

•(Cardan is partially grossed out, mostly fascinated, and DEFINITELY wagging his eyebrows at his wife (over the head of Oak, who never notices))

•In the intermission between the first and second movies, Oak notices a family sitting in the row in front of them

•It’s his classmate, Owen, and all of his family!

•(Owen is dressed as Scream, his costume has a hand pump that makes the mask bleed, he’s very proud)

•Oak watches the whole second movie with Owen and his family

•Leaving Jude and Cardan alone (Hubba Hubba)

•They make it through the second movie with Jude explaining exactly 0% of it

•Because God knows she wasn’t paying attention either

•The second intermission comes around

•Here comes Oak, Owen and Owen’s 4yo little brother (William)

•The kids completely miss the hickeys all over Jude and Cardan’s necks

•Oak wants them to stay with Jude and Cardan for the last movie

•(He’s trying time flex that his adults are cooler)

•(Owen and Will’s parents wouldn’t buy them snacks, Oak knee Jude and Cardan would set them tf up)

•”Juuuuuude, can we get more popcorn and candy?”

•Jude (still a little distracted, heyooo) “sure thing Acorn, go with Cardan”

•(That was her mistake, but, again, can we blame her? Sis wasn’t Thinking StraightTM)

•Cardan, being a good husband and uncle, stands up

•And the 4yo LOSES HIS MIND

•Because seeing an adult dressed in a lion costume is normal

•But when the lion costume includes a MOVING TAIL???

•H O L Y S H I T

•(Cardan had thought he was safe, he didn’t know mortals hadn’t figured out a way to make costume tails move like real ones)

•(So he’d been relaxing, moving his tail like usual)

•(Hence why Will saw it)

•”He’s got a tail!”

•It’s the only warning Cardan gets before the small child grabs a hold of his tail with both fists and PULLS

•Cardan fucking whimpers

•Jude sees red

•Oak has a brain

•”Don’t pull like that, Will, it’s part of his costume! It wouldn’t be nice to rip Uncle Cardan’s costume,” he scolds like a babysitter.

•Will lets go with one hand, but he keeps ahold with the other and throws his hands down, stomping one foot

•(Owen always says he’s a total spoiled brat)

•(The type of kid who forces your mom to make you let him open your birthday gifts with you on your birthday and then gets mad when he can’t keep them)

•”You need to let go of his tail. It’s very delicate and would be expensive to fix if you broke it,” Jude finally calms down enough to speak without punting the small child into next Tuesday

•(Cardan’s ready to cry at the idea of a broken tail)

•Will looks completely cowed

•(Because it’s one thing to get in trouble with an older kid, and a completely different thing to get in trouble with An AdultTM like Jude)

•He lets go of Cardan’s tail and his bottom lip starts quivering, tears begin to stream down his face and he sniffles

•Jude can’t find it in herself to feel sorry

•(Because how fucking DARE you hurt her husband)

•But Cardan,

•Cardan is fae

•And the fae have a different relationship with children

•To faeries, children are unbelievably precious, because they are so rare

•And so to see a child upset makes him uncomfortable

•Especially when he thinks it’s his fault

•So he crouches down by Will

•”Hey,” he says, and Will stops his sniffling

•Cardan lets his tail quirk up into the little boy’s line of sight, smiling as the child focuses on it once more

•”You can play with it if you’re very, very gentle,” he offers. “Just don’t pull or scratch. Like Mrs. Jude said, it’s very delicate.”

•So Will cautiously goes to reach for it

•And Cardan yanks it back just before he can grab ahold

•Will almost starts to cry again

•But he sees the smile on Cardan’s face and realizes it’s just a game

•So he grins and begins to chase around Cardan, reaching for his tail and celebrating when he catches it

•Before letting it go and beginning again

•Cardan takes the kids to the snack bar

•And buys entirely too much

•(While Will continues to try and catch his tail)

•They settle in to watch the third movie

•The older boys have essentially forgotten about the whole incident because a) zombies and b) food

•Cardan is completely ignoring the movie because he’s focusing on entertaining Will

•Will keeps playing with Cardan’s tail until he eventually gets bored and goes back to his parents

•Jude, who has finally gotten past her natural “kill everything that even breathes in the direction of my husband” instincts, spent the whole time watching Cardan out of the corner of her eye

•Watching how he grins

•How easily he plays with the little boy

•How well he calmed the child down

•How good he’ll be as a father

~~~~

Yeehaw have some Halloween fluff in July lmao 😂

Tag list: @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @hizqueen4life @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @thewickedkings @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @cheekycheekycheeks @queen-of-glass @b00kworm @doingmyrainbow @andromeddea @jurdanhell @thesirenwashere @sweetlyvillainous @clouds-and-peonies

#cardan greenbriar #jude duarte #jurdan #tfota #judecardan #oak #HC #tfota hc #tyrannosaurus lex answers #tyrannosaurus lex writes #halloween shenanigans

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alecmagnuslwb · 3 years

Text

Wreck My Plans, That’s My Man

Read on AO3

Zatanna settles down behind a long line of old white sheet covered furniture, she’s quiet and completely unseen since she arrived thanks to a bit of cloaking magic. Behind her a slick dressed pack of skin suited demons are gathered with hellhounds at their side. They’re meeting to discuss another apocalypse world domination attempt, because yeah they have meetings for those.

She’d caught wind of the gathering through a few of her more unsavory informants in the magic underworld and knew that she could put a quick easy stop to whatever apocalypse they were planning before it became an all out, Metropolis and Gotham both instantly on fire, heroes up type of affair.

She’d called around for some backup to no avail, but that’s okay. She can handle this on her own, the backup was just a worst case scenario situation, which considering how this pack of demons are at each other’s throats about which apocalyptic method works best there won’t be a worst case scenario tonight.

She’s more than strong enough to handle this on her own and she’s got a damn good, and damn simple plan to finish this up without the demons ever even knowing she was there. A couple quick and quiet spells, a big dramatic show of force and all these fools and their little dogs too will be sent back to hell where they crawled up from.

She loosens her black tie a bit and rolls her wrists before putting her hands to the ground already feeling the ever strong current of power at her fingertips begging to be let loose. She opens her mouth just about to let the first of her backwards words slip from her dark wine painted lips when she catches sight of him, trench coat flowing behind him as he makes his entrance. His completely unplanned entrance.

“Hey, there demons, it’s me ya boy,” Constantine announces loudly his accent booming across the empty space of this old abandoned house.

The demons and their hellhounds all turn their attention his way, standing up and taking fighting stances immediately.

“Shit,” she says under her breath dropping her head to her knees. Of course he shows up in this moment, of course he checks his voicemail for once, of course he’s here about to make this a whole mess it didn’t have to be because she had a plan.

They work together well, better than well on most days, but when he shows up unannounced and without warning it’s always bound to be a messier battle than it has to be. When this is over, she’s going to kill him.

Her quiet curse catches the attention of one of the hellhounds its head tilting her way as the others stay focused on John. And just like that any semblance of her plan going off without a hitch bursts into flames.

She moves into a crouch as soon as the hellhound charges towards her and drops the cloaking spell while placing a hand to the ground.

“Kcab ot ruoy hsilleh esuohgod dab yob,” she says and a crack in the ground starts to form beneath the creature’s feet. It loses it’s footing as the crack widens smoke and just a whiff of fire and brimstone curling around its feet and pulling it under with a loud yelp. She stands to her full height and now the rooms attention is on her.

“Hey, luv,” John says waving at her from across the room bright orange flames curling around his hands as he does. “Got your call.”

Zatanna grumbles focusing on the five demons and four hellhounds before her.

“So, I was gonna do this the easy way, but the hard way is the only option now it seems,” she says looking at them all with a smirk before gathering her power into her core lamenting internally how this could have been over and done with in mere moments.

She jumps over the back of the furniture to come face to face with the first of her opponents as John does the same on the other side of the room. Another one of the demons attacks her from the side bringing its hellhound along with nipping at her heels.

She shouts backwards magic sending waves of safe fire and bursts of knock outs their way as she glides on air literally. One of the demons flings her back, but she’s quick with her words creating a cushion on the wall that she bounces back from and lands on her feet with panther like grace using the spell that sent the first hellhound back to the doghouse once again. The demons watch in anger as their pups are pulled under.

She rushes them the magic literally sparking in her eyes. Out of the corner she catches John throwing flames at the three coming his way, two unconscious hellhounds laying at his feet.

“Don’t forget there’s still people in there, Constantine,” she shouts as she dodges a punch from one of hers and lands her elbow in his throat.

“I know, babe,” he says as he tumbles backwards taking a punch to the gut. She focuses back on her task at hand knocking the second demon down with a hard kick to the shin. She focuses her energy down and floats back up just out of their reach before gripping them both around the torso with magic and bringing them with her.

“Esaealer eseht snamuh dna og eht kcuf emoh,” she yells tightening her magic on them just enough. Their heads move violently back and forth and for a moment she’s scared that they’re going to go full Linda Blair, but just like that they settle, their mouths opening wide and the black essence of the demon floating up into the air and then down into the cracks still in the ground.

Black goo seeps from their eyes as she gently lays the humans on the floor, she checks their pulses assuring they’re alive and well, which they are, before turning her attention to John. He’s cornered by his three, a bruise already forming around his left eye.

The two hellhounds he’d knocked out stir, one lifting its head up blinking slowly and for a second it looks almost just like an actual dog. She shakes her head not letting herself be phased by thinking a hellhound looks kinda cute when it’s waking up and lifts her hands dragging the pair of pups over the cracks in the ground where they’re siblings have gone giving them the same treatment.

A burst of flames swish past her busting the window behind her which turns her attention back to John who’s literally hand to hand fighting three demons like it’s a bar brawl. She rolls her eyes heading his way as she calls her magic up to her fingers again wrapping it around the throats of two of the demons tight enough to get their attention, but not so tight she hurts the people these demons are borrowing and leaving John to the final one.

She yanks them back tossing them into the same cushioned wall she’d landed herself into before.

“Didn’t you hear what I said to your friends?” she says calmly, pinning them in place. “Kcuf ffo ot erehw ouy emac morf.” She does a complicated move with her hands as she says the words and watches as they convulse and exit through the cracks in the ground just like their friends had.

She walks over to check their pulses as well, breathing out a sigh of relief when she finds them, behind her she hears the familiar Latin words of a banishment spell falling from John’s lips followed by a scream and a thud as the body of the person the demon had taken over drops to the ground.

“Ouch,” John says as he stands and she turns watching him limp a little over to check the last one’s pulse. “This one’s alive,” he says as he shakes out his leg and comes to her side.

She sighs in relief as she says a small spell under her breath gently floating the five men to a nearby covered couch and laying them all on it. She walks over behind them waving her fingers over each of their heads.

“Ekaw htiw on seiromem fo tahw deneppah ot uoy, dna peels ysae for eht tser fo ruoy sthgin,” she whispers as sparkles of bright blue and purple magic fall onto them. She gestures around the room making empty bottles of liquor and crushed cans of beer appear to sell a story to them all when they awaken.

They all start to stir and Zatanna gestures towards the door indicating for her and John to leave, she’s satisfied they’ll be okay just a little groggy and believing they’d had a few too many in an empty house and lost track of everything. These guys will be confused enough even with her spell, the last thing they need is to wake up wondering who the beat up guy in the trench coat and eyeliner and the chick in fishnets are.

By the time they get on the sidewalk, she hears the sounds of ambulance sirens heading their way, likely one of the guys waking and calling for it first thing just in case.

Zatanna stops at a street corner waiting for John to catch up. She looks down at her maroon button up shirt and sighs when she spots a rip in it.

“Hctits siht pu,” she says waving her hand over the tear. She looks down at the rest of her outfit, her jacket and high waisted black shorts with the shiny silver lines running up the sides are all intact, but damn if there’s not a long tear in the side of her fishnets. Sometimes she thinks she should find out if there’s some sort of fishnet weekly delivery service with the way she goes through them. She should definitely at least buy stock in the fishnet stocking industry if nothing else.

“Good thing I showed up for backup huh,” John says when he reaches her. He’s already reaching into his pocket for his cigarettes, his black nail polish is chipped, there’s a cut on his cheek and the bruise under his eye is blooming even brighter already.

She scoffs, knowing the whole thing would have resulted in zero injuries and ripped shirts if she’d just gotten to do her own plan.

“The one time you check your voicemail, the one time!” Zatanna shouts frustrated.

“I check my voicemail all the time,” John defends, knowing he’s an absolute liar.

“Bullshit, you either answer on the first ring or pop up in my bedroom a week later with demons on your tail, you have no in between,” she huffs stomping off away from him.

She’s not necessarily too tired to make a portal home to her apartment, but frankly Zee needs the air to feel a little less like killing John. She couldn’t just have an unreliable boyfriend who doesn’t show up. She knows that sounds insane, but it’s where she’s at in the moment.

“I had a plan, John, a foolproof plan, in and out in five minutes tops, not a scratch,” she says walking just fast enough he can’t quite catch up to her.

“You needed help,” he argues trailing behind her. She hears the flicking of a lighter as he talks.

“I needed backup, just in case, quiet backup to be on my side if needed. You didn’t answer so I figured out a plan that didn’t require backup. You pulling up shouting ‘it’s me ya boy’ did not help that plan,” she huffs and picks up her pace a little more. John grumbles and sighs in defeat trailing behind her quietly smoking.

He knows her well enough to not try and argue right now which she appreciates.

***

Nearly thirty minutes later they’re walking down the street headed towards Zatanna’s apartment, an apartment he’s hoping he’s going to be allowed to enter with how annoyed she is with him in the moment.

They’re walking in total silence that doesn’t necessarily feel awkward but there’s definitely tension in the air. Zatanna slows a bit as she comes closer and closer to her place, he’ll never cease to be amazed at how those chunky heels she favors don’t slow her down more often. She pauses in front of a store leaning her hand out on the window as she lifts a leg and twists her ankle around in relief. She gives the same treatment to her other foot before glancing up and catching John’s eye in the reflection of the glass.

“Zee are you still mad?” John asks hesitantly stepping up behind her.

“Do you think that voodoo doll looks enough like you to work?” she says without missing a beat gesturing towards the small blonde voodoo doll in the occult shop window she’s stopped in front of. He’d laugh at the joke if he wasn’t also a little bit scared. He loves a very powerful woman who’s kind and gentle, but also doesn’t mess around. Just ask the hellhounds and demons from tonight.

“Look, I’m sorry alright, truly,” he says squeezing his way between her and the glass. “I didn’t mean to mess up your plan, not that I knew you had one.”

She gives him a warning look and he backtracks.

“Not that that is any way the point,” he says with an apologetic smile and her face softens just a bit. “I’m sorry that I made a scene and didn’t just support whatever you had planned, that’s on me.”

Zatanna takes a deep breath releasing it slowly before biting her lip in thought. He holds back the smile he wants to let out, knowing that look is the look of her just about to forgive him. She huffs taking her hands out of the pockets of her leather jacket and reaches out her fingers trailing along the cut of his jaw. She whispers a few words under her breath as he feels the tingles of her magic, comfortable and familiar, crawl across his skin. He feels his cut stitch itself together and the ache of his bruise disappearing.

“You’re forgiven I suppose,” she says dropping her hand when her work is done and sighs tossing the long French braid her hair is in over her shoulder. “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t cause a scene every now and again.” He smirks reaching out and cupping her face in his hands. He places a light kiss on her nose that she scrunches her face up at, but smiles just a bit.

“You love that about me,” he says with a chuckle.

Zatanna rolls her eyes, “The show woman in me occasionally enjoys your ability to cause theatrics, I wouldn’t necessarily call that love for it though.”

“Me thinks, the lady doth protest too much,” he says and Zatanna groans.

“Okay, that’s enough of that, let’s go home,” she says stepping away from him. She threads their fingers together this time and pulls him along. “I need a long hot bath and if you keep groveling a bit more I might just let you join.”

John perks up at that. Just a few steps after that they stop as they reach the front door of her building and she uses her magic to unlock it her keys lost a long time ago.

“Oh I can grovel, I can get on my knees and everything if you like,” he says wiggling his eyebrows as she looks to the side at him.

“I hope that’s a promise,” she says with a smirk of her own winking at him as she pulls him along up the stairs.

He practically falls over as they tumble up the stairs and somewhere in the back of his mind though he doesn’t have a clue why he deserves it he knows she’ll happily let him ruin every plan she makes as long as he shows up eventually, and as long as he grovels just the right amount afterwards. He’s happy to do just that.

#my fic #johnzee #john constantine #zatanna zatara

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fleckcmscott · 4 years

Text

Fun and Only

Summary: During a night out, Y/N and Arthur bump into someone from Arthur’s past. Y/N tries to decipher him.

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 4,088

A/N: This was a request from the sweet, kind @imdeaddear2! I hope you like it! Thank you for making the request, because I never would have written this scenario without it. 😀 Special thanks to @arthurflecc for the beautiful intro pic! Also, thanks to @hhandley80 for reviewing the exchange in the middle section!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

"Y/N, it's little league season. Know what that means?"

Needing to finish the paragraph she was reading, Y/N raised a finger. The dense case on her desk was a tough assignment; she'd been toiling at it most of the morning. She liked her new position. Truly. But the pace at which she prepared files was slower than she would have preferred. The particulars of labor laws were, well...laborious. Reviewing evidence types she wasn't familiar with took time. It made her impatient. Anxious to soak up all the information she could get her hands on.

But, she supposed, no longer being plagued by guilt for indirectly supporting the Waynes was worth the learning curve.

Leaning back in her chair, she crossed her ankles, swinging her foot back and forth as she regarded Terry. While he was incredibly friendly, chatting with everyone and anyone, they remained acquaintances. Periodically, she conferred with him over a motion or sought to get his opinion about the upcoming mayoral election. ("I've seen Wayne's legal bullshit. He's not getting my vote.") Those discussions didn't go far. Usually, he tried to bond over parental matters - she and Arthur didn't even have a plant.

She could tell this was going to be another attempt. "You're doing a fundraiser and I should buy chocolate bars?" she asked.

"Even better." Digging into his too-tight pants pocket, he retrieved a checkbook-sized pamphlet. "The Gotham Squires are selling these to charter a bus for the All-Stars tournament. They're the number two team in the state!" He shoved a photo of his kid at her.

She murmured a polite, "He's all grown-up." He spoke of the team's new uniforms and his nine-year-old's batting average. Half-listening, she flipped through the booklet. It was a coupon collection, mostly two-for-one sales at various restaurants and vouchers for discounted movie tickets, good on weekdays only. They were quite pricey at fifteen dollars apiece. But she was inclined to buy one. The savings might help Arthur practice letting go of his wallet. Allow him to stop worrying about money and indulge a little, the way he deserved.

What made the cash fly from her purse to Terry's palm was the certificate in the back: a half-off deal for Amusement Mile. Satisfaction was written all over her face as she studied the yellow cardstock's terms and conditions, the outline of a circus tent, the faded ink encouraging her to "Enjoy the Ride!" Coming from a rural area, she'd never gone to an amusement park. One had been four or so hours east, but her father had preferred to stay close to home, fearing he might be needed in an emergency.

The annual county fair had been a must. Everyone had worn his or her Sunday Best, the occasional breeze kicking up dirt as they toured the fairground. The rides had been creaky, unsound, and should have been reported to the local safety commission. She'd gone on the Tilt-A-Whirl and the giant slide, waving at her parents and hanging onto her burlap sack. One year, Mabel had screamed and cried until Y/N grabbed her hand and led them out of the house of mirrors.

Swinging the mallet as hard as he could, her father had impressed her mother with the strongman game. The puck wouldn't hit the bell. Doily and needlework competitions had been her mother's purview, crafts Y/N had practiced but quickly tired of. She'd preferred the pie contest. Her mouth had watered, hankering for a taste of the first-place winner. The agricultural exhibits had been the largest section, with its prized horses, pigs, and chickens. She'd broken the rules and stuck her fingers in the rabbit cages to feel their soft fur; she'd been bitten once.

Wistfulness wasn't the only reason the theme park appealed to her. There was Arthur's history with it. He kept a postcard of the Ferris wheel pinned to the divider in his writing nook. And he'd described some of the odd jobs he'd done. Carrying boxes of merchandise, filling in for other clowns, picking up litter (and keeping the returnables). It hadn't been steady, merely hours offered to him if he'd inquired. But it'd given him pocket change. Enough to buy cigarettes and keep the utilities on for another month.

The week had been warm up till now, and the good weather was expected to continue. He loved taking her to new corners of the city, had ever since their first date. Introducing her to his old stomping ground wouldn't take a lot of convincing.

When she got home, he was perched on the sofa, clad in a thermal shirt and a pair of her too-short pajama bottoms. (A funny combination that meant their laundry was in the machine.) Elbows on his knees, journal on the coffee table, and pen at the ready, his concentration was plain to see. The discipline he had to pursue his dreams, the way he studied comedy specials on TV was admirable. She got a glass of water and smiled at his ill-timed laughter. That he didn't understand the host's humor was logical. Roasts were usually unkind. While Arthur's jokes weren't always funny, they weren't mean-spirited.

She crouched next to him, peppered kisses along his shoulder. His damp curls brushed her cheek, and she breathed in the zesty musk of his shampoo. "I wouldn't waste too much effort on this guy," she said. Her caress followed the freckles on his bare forearm, feeling the muscle flutter under her fingertips. "He's kind of an asshole."

"The audience helps me figure out the timing." He muted the television, lips quirking. "You like some of his songs."

"He makes a better singer than comedian," she rebutted with a peck.

They went over their respective days, how his earlier appointment went, the paperwork she'd done. Tuna casserole was their choice for dinner, and Arthur put on an LP while they cooked. Once the dish was in the oven, she hugged him close. "I have an idea for Thursday night." She went over the Amusement Mile discount, enthused about his expertise, reveled in how her praise softened his features and brightened his eyes. "I'd love it if you took me around. Taught me all the magic behind the scenes. And I'm dying to see where you do your street performances." She massaged the nape of his neck. "Maybe I'll stop by and give you a tip."

Crooked tooth peeking out, he nodded. Then he grasped the counter on either side of her hips and pressed his forehead to hers. "That sounds great."

~~~~~

A small memorial flowerbed, filled with alternating swirls of white gardenias, purple pansies, and yellow daffodils, was situated just beyond the park's main entrance. The marble fountain bubbling in the center reminded Y/N of a bird bath. It was modest, from a bygone era in which the wealthy hadn't dared to flaunt their fortunes for fear of strikes. The bronze plaque declared the city's thanks to Benjamin Wayne for funding Amusement Mile's construction during the height of Gotham's industrial boom. Before most of the factories had fled. Before times had become tough for the majority Gothamites. It was annoying, how the Waynes had their fingers in everything. She hoped not one nickel of what they spent tonight went into their bank accounts.

Arthur paid it no mind. His head was tipped back a degree or two, his clear green eyes darting from attraction to attraction. Smoking was one of his habits she disapproved of. But she couldn't dispute how attractive he was, puffing the cigarette dangling from his puckered lips. The chestnut tones of his brown hair were brought to the fore by the grounds' multi-color lighting, and a lock or two fell over his temples. The loose curls at his neck bounced with each step, a boyish buoyancy to his gait.

Her stomach growled as soon as the aroma of fair food hit her. They picked a booth that claimed it sold Gotham's original franks. He asked to order for her. She let him, watching as his grin widened and he stated, "Four hot dogs for my girlfriend and me, please. With relish and mustard." Then they shared a candy apple, taking turns nibbling at the fruit's hard, sugary shell. Its juice dribbled onto her pale pink top, staining the embroidered neckline. Her groan of disapproval became giggling as he stole chaste kisses, wiping her off as she chewed.

His palm at the small of her back, guiding her as they walked down the midway, fanned a glow in her heart. He'd made headway when it came to displaying his affection in public, though he still tended towards timidity. Early on, she'd concluded his reticence had nothing to do with her - he never pulled away if she grabbed at him. He was simply a gentleman.

Most examples he followed were from an older era, one lost to the bluntness of the eighties. Those moments he'd let himself go, when he'd make it clear they were a couple, lifted her spirit. Not only due to the pride she felt at being on his arm, but also because it meant he was finding his own way. Arthur wasn't a shy suitor or a contemporary romantic hero. Rather, he was somewhere in the middle. Old fashioned, through and through, with threads of modernity woven into his fibers.

As they strolled, they stumbled onto a black and white photo booth. She sat on its cracked wooden stool and tried to tug him inside. But he wanted a picture of her, he said. To put in his wallet. To look at if he was having a bad day and wasn't at home. Her response was to snag his collar and yank him to her lips. Snorting, he shut the nylon curtain. At the clink of quarters in the coin slot, she straightened her puffed, cap sleeves and fixed her hair in the scratched featherweight mirror. The camera's flashes blinded her, but she thought she'd managed to smile naturally enough.

Before she had a chance to stand, he whipped open the drape and showed her the strip of portraits. "I knew I was dating the prettiest woman in the city. Maybe even the sweetest."

She cupped his cheeks as she stepped out. Rubbed the tip of her nose to his. He was unfailingly generous. Too generous. While she was fine with her appearance, she wouldn't win a beauty pageant. Hell, she wouldn't even be a runner-up. Or a contestant. And sweet was one of the last words she'd use to describe herself. But she wasn't going to correct him. "And I found the handsomest, funniest man." His stare was wide-eyed. After releasing a stuttering breath, he pulled her along.

Upon entering the gaming area, he slung his arm around her waist. Mischief laced his whisper as he spilled secrets. The darts for the balloon pop were dull, the balloons underinflated. He advised her to stay clear of the baseball and milk bottle stand, saying, "The bottom bottles have lead in them. You'll never knock them over."

Then he warned her off the ring toss, saying the rings were too small to win the best prizes. She decided to take her chances, regardless, and paid the attendant. Arthur tutted gently as she gave him the last ring, having already wasted four. A step to the side, then he paused to line up his throw. A short clap announced his victory. The prize options included a dinky toy car and a rubber snake. She picked a plastic, red keychain, embossed with "I was Amused in 1982" and the silhouette of a coaster. It was an improvement over her old car dealership tag. "I'll think of tonight whenever I see it."

Gaze fixed on her mouth, he sighed happily. He began to reach towards her, his arm raised ever so slightly-

"Art!" a rich baritone called. "Hey, Art!"

Arthur flinched. She moved to peer behind him. The approaching man was tall, his balding head half a foot higher than Arthur's. A blue and red flannel shirt with gray trousers covered his portly physique. Confidence oozed from him with every stride, a pleasantly surprised smirk on his round face.

Y/N's interest was piqued. Unless it was someone who remembered Arthur from Live! with Murray Franklin, no one ever approached him on the street. And she hadn't heard him be referred to by anything other than his proper name (besides Penny's terrible "Happy.").

But his reactions concerned her. Arthur's back tensed as the man closed in, stopping a yard away. "Hi, Randall."

"How's my boy been?" Randall asked jovially, hands at his sides. "Gary told us about your mom. Could you use a little cheering up?"

Arthur blinked faster than usual. "No. She's okay. And I feel a lot better now."

"Oh. Well, good for you," Randall said.

Going back and forth between them, she tried to puzzle out their dynamic. Their familiarity was obvious. Randall seemed caring enough, although she found it odd he'd referred to her thirty-five-year-old partner as "boy." Arthur had mentioned Gary was a former colleague. It would make sense Randall was, too.

He threw her a glance. "Hey, you have family visiting. Is this your cousin?"

She brushed off the assumption and extended her hand. "I'm Y/N L/N. His girlfriend."

"Oh, yeah. The paralegal." He shook it firmly before addressing Arthur again. "Gary said you finally got a date."

The pat to Arthur's bicep was a little too hard, jolting his stiff frame. The set of his jaw and flaring of his nostrils betrayed a turmoil she hadn't initially picked up on. She touched his hand but he shoved it in his pocket.

All right. She had to get to the bottom of this. It was hard to ascertain if his current reaction was due to his social challenges (which could cause discomfort) or Randall's words. She didn't want to jump to conclusions. After all, she and Patricia teased each other whenever they met for lunch or chatted on the phone. A good ribbing was needed every once in a while.

Starting a cross-examination in front of Arthur would contribute to his unease. After a moment's deliberation, she nudged him. It took a couple of tries to get his attention. "Would you please get us a large lemonade?" His brows rose, anxiety in the wrinkles of his forehead. She stretched to kiss his temple. His eyes narrowed but he got the hint, scuffing his shoe and glowering at Randall as he walked off.

When Arthur rounded a corner by the water pistol race, she lounged on one of the booth's metal poles. "Have you known Arthur long?"

Randall nodded in the direction Arthur had gone. "We worked at HaHa's. I'm a clown, too. We did parties, the children's hospital, store openings."

"Arthur loved that job." She crossed her arms over her chest. "It's too bad the slow season hit. But he's doing pretty well on his own."

Confusion crossed the big man's visage. "Uh, yeah. The slow season." He chuckled, then. "Anyway, you and Art, huh?"

Smiling broadly, she folded her arms over her chest. "Yes, me and Art."

"Pretty serious, huh?"

If he wanted gossip to bring back to the workplace, she'd gladly give him some. Especially if it reflected well on Arthur. "We live together. It's been great."

"No kidding." With a sardonic grin, he shook his head. "A woman like you. I didn't know he had it in him. It was always just him and his mom. Talked about stand-up sometimes. Mostly kept to himself, though. Never really talked much." Randall shrugged lightly. "But we liked him. He did all the shitty jobs no one wanted and never complained."

Arching a brow, Y/N felt her suspicions grow. While Arthur was learning to disagree and contradict her without hesitation, he nevertheless had the inclination to go along. It was plausible he hadn't argued about gigs. Had they taken his preferences into account?

Then Randall confirmed her skepticism, saying in a jokey tone, "That laugh really got everyone going, too. And his laminated cards. We had a pool on whether it was part of his act. I mean, him being in Arkham and all, who knows what the fuck he could have come up with?"

Deciphering what kind of man stood in front of her was suddenly uncomplicated. She'd run into his type all too often. They lurked in garages and offices. Diners and restaurants. Courtrooms on both sides of the bench. People with no real power who walked on others. Persons who threw their weight around to feel in charge. Bullies who hid behind a veneer of kindness.

She understood why he'd called Arthur "boy."

What she said had to be chosen carefully. Randall and Arthur worked in the same field, likely competed for clients. If her big mouth came back on Arthur, she wouldn't forgive herself. She straightened, squared her shoulders, and forced her voice to stay professional. "If you liked him, wouldn't you have split the less desirable jobs with him? I'm sure he didn't like being taken advantage of."

His looked at her in disbelief. "Hey, he was paid fair and square, like all of us."

"And he understands how to speak to a 'woman like me' more than you ever will." A sharp exhale as her cheeks burned. "From what Arthur has said, you could learn a lot from Gary. Please tell him hello from us and have a good evening." With that, she headed off to find Arthur, ignoring Randall's lame attempts to call her back.

Arthur was in line when she spotted him. He stepped forward and pointed to the menu. As she approached, she noticed how he fidgeted with his cigarette, tapping it repeatedly though there was no ash. The subtle tremble in his knee. If he continued to carry himself so tightly, his muscles would cramp.

Clearing her throat, she slipped behind him and hugged his back. "Did you have to deal with that insufferable know-it-all every day?"

He grabbed the proffered cup from the clerk and headed to a nearby table. Plunked himself down and took a drag off his smoke. Stress poured off him, clear in every flex of his fingers. His palm went to his stomach as he practiced controlling his breathing. "What- What did he tell you? That everyone thought I was a freak? How much I fucked up?" His voice lowered then, barely above a whisper. She could tell he was talking to himself. "The hospital?"

"Enough to know he was a jerk. I'm glad you're not there anymore." She put her chin on his shoulder. Watched him take a sip of lemonade. "Nothing he said matters, but I told him how important you are to me." She tucked a hair behind his ear, and he leaned into her touch. Their gazes met, his shining in the dim light. The evening had been fantastic so far. She wasn't going to let some asshole ruin it. "Come on," she urged, jutting her hip towards him. "We still have half the park to explore."

~~~~~

About a third of the way through their ride on the Mad Hatter, Amusement Mile's famous coaster, Y/N realized eating had been a mistake. A big one. Thrown to a fro in the sharp curves, she could nearly taste the bile in the throat. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, willing her nausea to pass. For his part, Arthur appeared exhilarated, laughing with every peak and valley. Seeing that happiness was a gift, one that gratified and partially distracted from her queasiness.

Fortunately, the enclosed cabins on the Ferris wheel were a respite. They waited an extra turn to board the outer wheel, which rotated at a leisurely pace and allowed her stomach to settle. The view from the top was beautiful, Gotham Cathedral's lit spires and the Westward Bridge prominent against the night sky. Wayne Tower was also visible, but she did her best to ignore the high-rise and its gaudy "W." He pointed in the direction of Burnley and said, "There's our home." She was unexpectedly moved. Then he kissed her soundly, which quickly advanced to mild necking when the wheel paused.

The carousel was antique, according to the sign. The only original attraction left in the park. A massive wooden structure with a mirrored center, it had three rows of horses, broken up by the occasional bench. He stepped onto the gray platform and picked one, painted red and yellow, roses etched along its back. But she climbed a nearby leaping horse instead, its black mane and tan body faded by years of sunlight.

He quirked a dark brow until she beckoned him with a nod. Cheeks pink, countenance tender in the lingering blinks of the incandescent bulbs, he followed suit. "Hang onto me," she instructed. As the calliope's whistles began their jaunty tune, he cupped her hips and pressed into her. A flutter tickled her stomach. She reclined against him, let her eyes fall shut as his warmth surrounded her. Round and round they went, chuckling airily. Not at any jokes or amusements, but at the joy of one another.

Arthur picked the last ride, an old mill called Romantic River Caves. She had to stop herself from snickering at the idea of a middle-aged woman and her nearly-middle-aged boyfriend cruising along in something built for teenagers. But he delighted in cliches and corniness, a preference she attributed to his inexperience and kind nature. Though such gestures hadn't thrilled her since she was a girl, she appreciated them with him.

The boats were short and narrow, just wide enough for the two of them to sit side-by-side. Curved backrests encouraged cuddling. Off-key versions of old standards played through tinny speakers. Myriad displays were inside, a mix of plaster dioramas and paintings. Two swans swimming, their beaks touching. A couple on a picnic under a tree. Bouquets and hearts galore. There were five or so seconds of darkness between each one. He took advantage of those breaks, kissing her again and again until she was breathless.

She scanned the starry painting above them, the comets' trails stretched across the tunnel's ceiling. "It's been a long time since I've done anything like this. Twenty-five? Thirty years?"

"Me, too. I snuck in when I was a kid. To see the circus and the merry-go-round." He smoothed his hair back, pressed his legs tighter together. "When I moonlighted here, I could've gone on the rides and to the shows. I- I didn't want to alone."

He paused and she put her palm on his thigh. Gave him an encouraging squeeze. "That postcard I have?" he said. "By my desk? It was in my locker at HaHa's." His fingers covered hers, tips tracing her knuckles. "It's good to have a person to have fun with. To have you."

She beamed at that sentiment, for she felt it, too. Yes, she'd been complete on her own. No, she hadn't been lonely. But he added to her existence. Introduced her to activities and experiences she hadn't previously considered or realized she'd needed. Going to a comedy club. Dancing despite her lack of skill. Or enjoying vulnerability during quiet conversations in their bedroom rather than fearing it. He'd broadened her life in ways she was still discovering. And he regularly told her she'd bettered his. "You're my favorite ride," she said.

A sharp snort left him, followed by a bashful chuckle. He shook his head. "You're crazy."

"I didn't mean that." She batted his chest playfully. Tried to cross her legs under the safety bar. "This relationship we've started." Light appeared at the end of the tunnel, the shallow pool's grimy floor coming into view as the water level fell. Soon they'd be amongst the crowd. "Remember when I said we'd never be perfect? I like our imperfections. They fit. Like..." She contemplated. "A pen and paper. They're good on their own but they're best together." Cringing, she covered her face. "God, that didn't even make sense. A pen needs paper."

"Didn't you say you needed me?" he teased, pulling her hand from her brow to place it on his sternum. "I don't mind being your paper." Blushing, Y/N turned to him when he cupped her jaw. Ran his thumbs over her cheeks. She joined him in ignoring the attendant's instruction to disembark. Arthur kissed her, a delicate graze to her mouth before he drew her bottom lip between his. "You're the best ride, too."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve, @howdylilflower, @sweet-nothings04, @stephieraptorr, @rommies, @fallenstarsabyss, @gruffle1, @octopus-plasma, @tsukiakarinobara, @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile, @another-day-in-chuckletown, @hhandley80, @jokerownsmysoul, @64-crayon

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x ofc #arthur fleck x female reader #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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paaradoxum · 4 years

Text

BakuTodo Rec List of Fics Vol. II

It’s been a while since the last time I did the other list and many new, wonderful fics appeared (the dynamics will be the same: AO3 fics that includes top!Bakugou and bottom!Todoroki for those that are NSFW), so if you wanna check out here is Part I.

This time there are 32 fics in this list, I have more and probably I will make Part III soon.

Spoiler: EVERY SINGLE one of these stories are FUCKING AWESOME.

Rating: G

→ flowers die, feelings grow by kinneyb

Summary: When Bakugo first visits a local flower shop with Jirou, he buys some flowers in a lame attempt to piss off one of the employees - a guy named Shouto. But then he gets a little too invested in keeping his flowers alive.

→ Pretty by doop-doop.

Summary: Like so many things that had to do with Shouto, the question took Bakugou entirely by surprise. “Do you think I’m pretty?”

→ For a Single Moment by itsclowreedsfault.

Summary: Katsuki shakes his head with a sigh and an unbidden smile. Shouto's always been like an overexcited kid when it came to cats; Katsuki should've known he didn't stand a chance against them in Shouto's first visit to a cat cafe.

Rating: T

→ Ruin My Life by justhavesex.

Summary: He's not a vengeful person, really, he's not.

But him and Bakugou have started this little on-going war of theirs back in middle school when they were 10 years old and Todoroki had accidentally—if you got Todoroki drunk enough and fed his ego well enough he would, in fact, admit that it was very much on purpose—accidentally fed Bakugou's limited edition All Might magazine to his cat.

→ Aesthetic Distance by llyn.

Summary: This was around the time Shouto was appearing in all the blogs and rags and instagrams wearing a hideous faux fur coat of bright, hot neon like some awful crawling creature from an acid trip had been hunted and skinned, its pelt draped over Shouto's shoulders.

→ Dance To This by justhavesex.

Summary: Bakugou has never cared much about being an alpha, not really, not until he met the most frustrating omega in all existence: Todoroki Shouto.

→ Welcome to the Mile-High Club by minhakos.

Summary: In which Todoroki realizes that maybe airplanes aren't the only thing that should make him nervous.

→ Boyfriend Tactics by Esselle.

Summary: 'Shouto's eyes go impossibly wide. He seems to lose all powers of communication for a moment and just stands there, frozen, staring at Katsuki and the kitten. Finally, eventually, he utters the tiniest noise Katsuki has ever heard him make.

"Ah…" '

Katsuki comes to the aid of a small and fluffy civilian while on patrol.

→ Line by Line by Lillabelle.

Summary: With half his sketchbook filled with drawings of the guy, Katsuki wondered if he’s already crossed the line of being insanely creepy. They’ve never spoken, and he honestly only knew the person’s name was Todoroki Shouto because of role call in class. Shouto was just… so unique to look at with his half and half appearance. It was hard for Katsuki’s eyes not to get drawn to him. Not to mention they shared several classes, so if Katsuki ever got bored and felt like drawing something, there he was.

→ a todobaku one-shot collection by kagehinataboke.

Summary: all of my multiple, multiple, multiple todobaku one-shots. i stan two (2) dipshit boys that are obviously in love and hate with each other.

→ amaryllis by ?

Summary: The amaryllis has come to symbolize pride, determination and radiant beauty. Somehow this all suited Katsuki a lot more than Shouto expected.

→ tell ourselves a good lie by ElmoIsSatan. (In-Progress 12/?)

Summary: For a straight guy with anger issues, getting a “boyfriend” might just be his only escape.

Or-

Bakugo makes an impulsive decision and suddenly gains a boyfriend just to prove his parents wrong... The only problem is it’s all fake.

→ how to register for a library card (and get a boyfriend in the process) by Kaleid369.

Summary: “Friends have each other’s numbers, yeah?” Bakugou shrugs. “I don’t hate you, I guess.”

“Lucky me.”

“Lucky you,” Bakugou snorts. “I gotta go. Text me so I have your number.”

“I will.”

He's already started walking away when Shouto blurts out, “See you tomorrow?”

Bakugou shoots him a smirk over his shoulder, as if to say, Duh.

Shouto stands and stares at his retreating back, and the thought of kissing him pounds along with the beat of his heart.

→ on brand by dinosuns.

Summary: Midoriya is honestly unsure what’s worse: the tragic fact that Todoroki Shouto can make anything look objectively incredible or the fact Kacchan has six versions of the exact same photograph saved onto his camera roll.

Nobody saves a photo that many times by accident.

Kacchan set the bar, Todoroki raised it. That is not a good thing.

→ The Journey Home by dinosuns.

Summary: “Your hair looks real fucking nice.”

“I thought it was about time I grew it out,” Todoroki says, something wistful caught in his voice. “You were always saying I should.”

That’s true. And Bakugou is satisfied to know he was right about it looking good, but it’s not like he can share that with the fucking class anymore.

Bakugou tells himself that he's fine with how things turned out between them. He also tells himself he's not still in love.

Rating: M

→ Zephyr by yeetin. (In-Progress 4/?)

Summary: The breeze that sifted gently through a golden sea of tall, dry grass brought the tiny spike of a different scent. An inconspicuous little prickle down the spine, barely even worth paying attention to. Something no one else would even imagine being able to notice.

But Bakugou did.

→ Objection, Your Honor by Myona. (In-Progress (8/?)

Summary: Shoto Todoroki hated Katsuki Bakugou. And he had plenty of reasons to do so.

But he didn't know that how things can change for the two of them who saw nothing but trouble in each other's presence and life altogether. Katsuki was a trouble from the first time Shoto heard his name, to the first day he met the man.

Rating: E

→ On Hot Blondes and Drunken Hookups by Crossfire. (In-Progress 4/?) I love this so so much.

Summary: “I’m Bakugou. What’s your name, Pretty Boy?”

Shouto looks at the drink in his hand, then back to the beautiful blonde boy, then back to the drink and downs it in one go, ignoring the slight burn as it slides down his throat, and while it would have been more suave to appear unaffected, he gives his head a little shake. He takes a quick breath and forces the words out before he has a chance to realize what a massive mistake this all is.

“Hot blondes I want to bang can call me Shouto.”

→ Tick Tick Boom by Ajaxthegreat. (In-Progress 6/?) THIS is so good, I’m in love.

Summary: An exhausted socially awkward violin prodigy and a deaf punk rock drummer walk into a bar.

→ Better Take a Mental Picture by chibibeeee. This is HOT HOT.

Summary: The one where Deku watches Bakugou take Todoroki and their exhibitionist kink is unlocked.

→ Cover: Blown by darkanddank. (In-Progress 1/2)

Summary: Some undercover agents got hooked on drugs. Went full Stockholm Syndrome, flipped and joined up with the other side. As Bakugou’s palm went flat over Todoroki’s navel and dove beneath his closed zipper, Todoroki started to understand just how easy it might be to go rogue.

...aka cop Todoroki gets his world rocked so hard by bad guy Bakugou that he has an existential crisis

→ Just One Bite by Crossfire.

Summary: This particular fuckup begins when he saves a cat from a demon in a sketchy alley.

Well, maybe slightly before that when his esteemed hedge-witch mentor turned out to be an incubus who coincidentally turned him and his stupid nerdy neighbor into incubi.

Or maybe when he was born to a non-magic family, but early on developed minor magical inclinations that turned out to be not-so-minor and kind-of-hugely-destructive.

Wherever this fuckup was born, it’s culminated as follows: Bakugou has been an incubus for one hundred and twenty-two days, seven hours, and thirty-six minutes, has not had a single successful feed, and is essentially slowly starving to death. His mentor is suspiciously MIA and that stupid shitty nerd has managed to secure himself a two-person harem so it’s just Bakugou, starving. To death. Slowly.

→ Gangster by Brixxen.

Summary: Bakugou is a detective trying to solve a case that's been open for months. He ends up in a town and meets a man who could be his undoing...

Todoroki wasn't expecting the blonde at the bar to leave him wanting more...

→ How to spend a Friday night by veltana.

Summary: That's how Katsuki ended up on his bed on a Friday night leaning against the headboard with his laptop between his spread legs, his hard dick in his hand, watching Shouto open himself up for him on the screen.

→ Your Turn by doop-doop.

Summary: An extra scene/epilogue/continuation of smd.

Bakugou and Todoroki housesit for Bakugou's parents and take advantage of Bakugou's large bed.

→ Comfort by hellaradholly.

Summary: Katsuki agrees to be Shouto's roommate after UA despite having an unbearable crush on him.a gift for Katie for the BakuTodo Valentine's Day Exchange!

→ Empire of Dirt by castiiron, clairesail. (In-Progress 5/?)

Summary: There was something different about being with Bakugou Katsuki. Something that Shouto had been searching for tonight, to no avail. A consistent burn in his gut, the warmth of a fire that hadn’t been stoked in many years. Katsuki had been inexcusably rough with him. Harsh in a way that had pulled him back to reality. Shouto hadn’t realized he was missing out, being so used to what he knew; going through the motions, a means to an end. His life for the last few years had revolved around mediocre sex as a way to abate constant desire, always at the forefront of his mind.

Unhealthy coping mechanisms are easier to hide when you aren't screwing your ex-classmate.

→ Be Quiet by chibibeeee.

Summary: Katsuki and Shouto stay the night at Deku's. If only they had any self control, then they wouldn't have to keep so quiet.

→ Speak Softly My Sweet Villain by Brixxen.

Summary: Ask anyone in Tokyo and they’ll tell you the same thing. That the No.1 Pro Hero Todoroki Shoto is the perfect hero. He’s kind to everyone, always the first to arrive on a crime scene, always the calm and collected hero everyone wants him to be.

It was ironic how things happened to lead Shoto to his current situation. Him moaning and shuddering like a teenager, clinging to the strong perfect body of the most wanted villain in Japan, Ground Zero.

→ Peanuts and Wolves by cashmeresho.

Summary: “Yeah, man, okay!” The guy holds up his hands in surrender and Shouto shoots him another apologetic look. “I really didn't know you guys were married! I didn't see a ring!”

“Oh,” Katsuki says. He frowns hard for a minute and then grabs Shouto by the arm to whisk him away to his table with Izuku and Kirishima to guard him or sniff him or whatever weird territorial thing he wants to do.

→ College Roommates|BakuTodo by S_Kuro.

Summary: Todoroki is the son of the famous Todoroki Enji, also known as Endeavor, his father is a famous business man that wants Todoroki to take over his business, but Todoroki wants to become a photographer. He goes against his father's wishes and goes to an art university miles away from home. There he meets a certain explosive blonde, who turns out to be his roommate. what sorts of ridiculous shenanigans will they find themselves in and what relationships will they end up in.

a BakuTodo fanfic

This is my first fanfic with these two, so don't judge me and I hope you like it.

→ Locker Room by darkqueen_25.

Summary: There are worse things to walk in on in a locker room, Inasa thinks, than your two new friends fucking against the shower walls.

There's probably nothing better than being asked to join in, though.

#bnha #mha #bakutodo #todobaku #todoroki shouto #bakugou katsuki #shouto todoroki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x todoroki #top!bakugou #bottom!todoroki #bakutodobaku #fanfic #fic recommendations #fic list

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