I Was Watching The Crucifixion (2017) And This Dude (Father Anton) Really Reminded Me Of Brahms.

I was watching The Crucifixion (2017) and this dude (Father Anton) really reminded me of Brahms. 😭😭😭

Friday the 13th Oneshots: Michael x Jason

Chapter 2: Halloween Headache

It was almost that time of the year again, Jason thought as he eyeballed the calendar on the table. He had never cared about holidays until he came along.

Right on cue, Michael trudged in from the back door, dragging mud all over his freshly mopped floors. Jason let out a huff, gesturing angrily at his partner who barely spared him a second glance. Michael was always 'moody', especially around Halloween. Jason wasn't exactly sure why the holiday had such an effect on the Haddonfield slasher, and Michael himself wasn't certain why either. But neither of them cared enough to stew over it.

His mood swings got worse around that fateful day, and Jason had to constantly watch his back to make sure the smaller man wouldn't jump him with a knife to the shoulder or rip off his clothes. Personally, he preferred the latter. But this year, he had a peace offering. Jason smiled giddily under the mask, feeling the weight of the candy hidden beneath his old, bulging jacket.

He knew Michael had a massive sweet tooth, despite his efforts to conceal it. Any desserts that Jason made or stole would immediately disappear before he even had a chance to taste it. Personally, Jason didn't care much for sweets, so it made no difference to him if Michael decided to hog it all. Unfortunately, most trespassers knew better than to carry aromatic foods into the forest, lest they wanted to attract unwanted attention from bears or worse.

Clearly, the hikers yesterday were not so smart, bringing an entire bag of candy into the woods to stuff their faces. Jason had found and dispatched them in an instant, claiming his prize and doing his best to hide it from his lover. Luckily, Michael didn't seem to suspect anything, too caught up on his yearly Halloween bloodlust to pay much attention to Jason.

Jason grinned, sneaking over to their shared bedroom where Michael was already hard at work staring out of the window. Michael didn't react to Jason's heavy footsteps, and it wasn't until he heard the unfamiliar sound of crinkling plastic did he finally turn around.

Jason pulled the bag out of his jacket, showing it off proudly to Michael. Hidden by the pale, white mask, Michael's eyes widened in shock. How long has it been? Over a decade at least since he's last tasted Halloween candy. It was the night he'd killed his sister, Judith. The food at Smith's Grove was bland and repetitive, and there was never the luxury of anything sweet or even food that tasted remotely edible.

But Jason didn't know that. If he had, he probably wouldn't have presented Michael with the whole bag at once. It seemed to trigger something in the Boogeyman; Jason had never seen him move so fast.

Michael lunged, startling a surprised grunt out of the normally mute killer, grabbing the bag and speeding out of the room. A door slammed in the distance, the distinct click of a lock loud in the empty house. Jason stood rooted at the spot, frozen in confusion for a few seconds before a thought hit him.

Was he going to eat the whole bag at once?

Even Michael wouldn't be able to stomach that much candy at once, he was going to get a massive stomachache, Jason worried.

Quickly, he found Michael in the spare room, but the door was locked. The sound of movement slipped through the cracks at the bottom, and Jason pounded a heavy fist against it. Something was thrown against the wall in a clear indication of 'go away'.

Jason exhaled loudly, knocking again, only to be ignored. Michael wouldn't budge, he was too busy tearing into the bag, damn the consequences! No way would he let Jason take it away.

After about ten minutes of fruitless knocking, Jason finally gave up, sliding against the wall as he sat down next to the door.

Eventually, Jason dozed off, leaving Michael to scarf down the candy in peace. It must have been hours later until Jason awakened. The sky was dark, blanketing the small cabin in a soothing darkness. It was quiet, too quiet. Jason perked up, ears straining for any sound behind the locked door.

A soft groan caught his attention and he immediately broke the lock on the door, resigning himself to fix it later. Jason burst through, halting as he saw the figure of his unmasked lover curled up on the sheets, candy wrappers strewn on the floor and bed. There were still a few pieces left, but the rest of it was gone. A loud gurgle echoed through the room, coming from Michael's stomach, Jason realized.

Shakily, Michael reached for a wrapped chocolate and Jason had to hold back from face-palming as he watched. He grabbed Michael's wrist, pulling him away from the candy.

Michael shot him a venomous glare, growling loudly and jerking weakly in his grasp. Jason tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at the smaller male as if saying, "Really?"

Even with a stomachache he was still trying to eat. He moved the candy away from him, sending Michael into a thrashing fit. A knee was suddenly thrust into Jason's ribs, briefly winding him enough for Michael to break free and make a wild dive for the candy.

Lunging forward, Jason grabbed his ankle and pulled him back, promptly collapsing him onto his stomach and locking his arms around his chest.

Michael let out a grunt as all of the air was expelled from his lungs, the sound muffled by the duvet pressing into his face.

He went deathly still for a moment and promptly threw up all over the bed and rug, letting out a few raspy coughs as he finally finished expelling all the colorful fluids. Jason could do nothing except gently pat his back through the violent heaving, hoping that it wouldn't stain the already deteriorating floors.

It reminded him of that year when he caught his counselors watching The Exorcist, and back then he had covered his eyes as the girl projectile vomited everywhere on screen. Except this time he had a front-row seat.

This Halloween was certainly shaping up to be an unusual one, Jason thought as he moved Michael's head away from the puddle of foul-smelling, partially digested candy on the corner of the bed. It seemed like all the fight had fled from him along with the contents of his stomach.

He tried scooping Michael up to take him to the showers but being a stubborn bastard he refused, pushing Jason away and rolling onto his side with an irritated growl.

He fell asleep almost immediately, and Jason didn't have the heart to wake him. A small smile worked its way onto his face as he watched the rhythmic rising and falling of Michael's chest, dark lashes fluttering lightly every now and then. Carefully, Jason lowered himself next to his sleeping lover, heart swelling with unbridled affection. Slowly, he too was lulled to sleep, dreaming about sharp blue eyes and dark brown hair.

Michael may be a shithead, especially around Halloween, but he was Jason's shithead, and no one would be able to take him away from him.

Friday the 13th Oneshots: Michael x Jason

Chapter 1: Handful

There was one thing that Michael began to notice since his cohabitation with Jason. The man was built like a tank. Large, firm pecs, bulging biceps, and a round, shapely ass. Well, it was more than that. It was, as he heard from joking teenagers, "thicc". He shivered in revulsion at using horny teenage lingo, he preferred never to stoop as low as those degenerates, but in this case he had no other words better suited to this situation.

It almost seemed that Jason was teasing him, bending forward at the waist to check his traps. But Michael knew that Jason was too naive and too innocent to do such a thing. The man didn't know he was a walking hunk. Michael let out a low growl of frustration, palming angrily at the large kitchen knife clasped in his right hand.

Jason straightened, shooting him a curious look and tilted his head in a silent question: 'What's wrong?'

Michael huffed and looked away. Jason would have rolled his eyes if he could, he had known the Boogeyman long enough to know that there was no point in trying to get anything out of him if he was in a rotten mood.

Still, Michael continued to follow the larger man as he checked his traps and patrolled his borders for intruders. Jason had quickly become accustomed to Michael's constant presence. The intense staring, on the other hand, was a bit harder to swallow. Jason didn't particularly care if Michael wanted to follow him to the shower, but it was a bit hard to focus when Michael stood six feet away and attempted to burn holes through his naked body. The townsmen thought Jason was a creep but he was nothing compared to Michael, Jason thought in amusement.

Michael, true to his reputation, was busy doing what he did best. Watching. Some people were born into the world with more than others. Jason was clearly one of these people. Or to be more precise, his backside was. Watching the hockey-masked killer striding around in those beige, form-fitting work pants damn near drove Michael insane.

Jason, ever oblivious to his own charm, got down on all fours to yank a crawfish cage out of the muddy lake bank. His pants were pulled taunt on the two, shapely cheeks. Michael immediately seized the opportunity to grab a handful of Jason's ass, and gave it a hard squeeze. It was much softer and malleable than Michael imagined, but he didn't have much time to admire it before Jason abruptly stood up and grunted indignantly with a hand on his machete.

Michael had already disappeared off into the woods by the time he turned around, bidding his time to strike again. 

A Serendipitous Future

A request made by Shannon in which the reader and Black have children in an alternate universe. Additionally, the reader is Vegeta's sister and Black has reversed his ways. It is a one-shot.

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

In all of your dreams you had never believed this would be possible. You had long since given up on ever hoping that you would live to see the sky turn blue again, nor the humans thriving after the destruction of Goku Black. And even more, you could never have foreseen that you would have been the cause of it. But all those facts dwarfed in comparison to your established relationship with the infamous killer turned hero. He had become your husband.

You, who had convinced him that humans were worth something, that mortals deserved to live. No one knew of the true heroine of the universe, and you were alright with that. It was enough to finally forget the days of the past, those days you had suffered in terror and agony, watching your world go up in flames. And yet, there were days you didn’t want to forget, not now, not ever. Memories that you would lock away in your heart forever, memories of him. How you managed to convince the cold-blooded serial killer of days long gone you weren’t exactly sure, and neither was Black. But for some reason, the fateful day he met you, levitating above you as you pleaded with tears streaming down your cheeks, yet refusing to back down; he was unable to kill you. Black had never spared anyone before, and as much as Zamasu goaded him to do it, he just couldn’t. And gradually, after several encounters, he inevitably drew closer, captivated by the one person who didn’t think he was a monster.

It was ironic, how a God like him fell in love with a mortal like you, the people he swore to eradicate, and he had almost done it. The Zero Mortal Plan had been so close, the only barriers were a few other Saiyans that Black could have easily crushed. He had never even thought of the possibility that a mortal would ever be able to stop him, let alone change him. It frightened him at first, but after so much turmoil he stopped fighting it and succumbed to his feelings, much to his partner’s rage.

And when Zamasu had charged at you with murder in his pale, silver eyes, it was Black who had protected you. Not Trunks, not the other Saiyans, but Black. And that was the final catalyst for your love, which exploded into something no one had ever expected.

Obviously, not everyone accepted it at first, many at first spewing filthy slurs at you, but Trunks, your best friend and cousin, though confused and hurt, had shaken his head in defeat and hesitantly supported you. Vegeta, your hot-headed brother, was nothing short of murderous and disgusted when he found out, but came around to it in due time, though neither Black nor the Prince was anything short of frigid towards each other. And surprisingly, so many others who were too tired to hate and blame anymore chose to stand by your side. It was no easy task to convince the Gods of the other universes to pardon his crimes and give him a second chance, but on the account of your own innocence and purity, not to mention the own deeds you had contributed that would rival a God’s (Enough so to earn you the title of “Warrior Princess”), they had sullenly agreed. It took time at first for Goku Black to be acclimatized to humans, but you were patient with him, and slowly became his everything.

Son Goku and his friends, with the help of many Gods who were sympathetic or simply vengeful for their cause, restored Trunks’ timeline along with the help of the dragon balls.

Trees sprouted from the ground and the barren soil became rich once more, the scourge of the universe that lingered and festered like some disease abolished. Cities were rebuilt and soon the universe began to be restored. And though Black tried to save his partner, Zamasu, in the end, was dissolved by Lord Zeno. Though only the Z-fighter knew you as the true cause of this abrupt turn of events, you were more than delighted by Black’s sudden change of heart. Perhaps it was partly because of the body of the kind-hearted Saiyan that no longer existed, but there was no doubt that you had your influence too.

It had been a few years since then, the day you finally saw the light in his heart, or more specifically, when he had openly revealed it to you, and you could never forget his words. “If it is your wish, then I will try, all for you, my love.”

And he had kept true to his promise, at the very minimum refraining from slaughtering the innocent, though you could see how difficult it was for him. And you loved him all the more for it.

After you all had settled the issue, you were both living in the mountains in an embellished wooden cabin that Black had built with his own two hands, with the occasional visit from Mai and Trunks, who were still a bit uncomfortable around your husband but tolerant enough. You really couldn’t ask more of them, and their visits were appreciated. But despite their frostiness towards the black-haired God, they had been overjoyed when you gave birth to a baby boy nearly five years prior, who bore an uncanny resemblance to their powerful father. To most, Black was still unreadable and distant, but even you could perceive the subtle joy in his dark eyes when he held his newborn son at your bedside. Two years later, you were blessed with another child, this time a girl, who bore more of a resemblance to you. And again, Black was overjoyed, constantly keeping his children within his sight and spending as much time with you as possible. Luckily for you, as one of the mightiest beings in the universe he could easily provide for your entire family with barely any effort, meaning that you were never apart for long. When you ventured into the city, Black would always follow in disguise (If you could call it that, all he would wear was a dark grey hoodie), cradling your children protectively while he fondly watched you shop.

Currently, it was springtime, and the desolated planet that had once been earth had been completely hidden by the blooming flowers and plants, showing no trace of the bloodshed that had once scorched the earth. Of course, those who were there would never wholly forget, but there was nothing more you could have wished for. You let out a sigh of contentment as you reclined back in your chair on the patio, letting the gentle sunlight caress your cheek. Black was perched in front of you, staring down earnestly at the forest below, the sound of laughter floating its way into your ears as your son frolicked around in the trees with your daughter. Two more voices mingled with your children’s delighted screams, specifically a blue-haired Saiyan and a black-haired woman. They had come over to visit, a few minutes ago, and had agreed to facilitate your children so you and Black could get some rest. As much as you loved your energetic son and curious daughter, parenthood was exhausting even with Black at your side, especially because of their had Saiyan blood.

You had barely gotten any sleep lately and neither had your lover, though he showed no physical evidence of sleep deprivation and fatigue like you did. He looked as perfect as always.

It’s so not fair, how does he always look so damn good-

He turned around at that exact moment and your face flushed as bright as a tomato, causing him to smirk as if he knew exactly what you were thinking. Even after being married for this many years he was still hard to read. He sauntered over to you, picking you up by the waist much to your surprise before plopping down where you were laying and dropping you on top of him. Such intimacy had been nonexistent during his life as a Kai, but he had learned to appreciate it after all this time.

“What were you thinking about? Must be something not so innocent by that face of yours,” he whispered huskily in your ears, his muscular arms tightening around your waist.

“And how would you be so sure? It’s not like you’re a mind-reader.” You retorted, bumping him with your elbow.

“What if I was?” He purred with such conviction then you almost believed it for a terrifying second. But you called his bluff. You had gotten so used to it now that you barely cared.

“Then you would know what I’m thinking right now.”

“Alright,” he chuckled lightly, “enlighten me, Y/n.”

“I’m thinking….” You touched your chin and pretended to ponder it for a few seconds. “That you’re an ass.”

“Oh really.” You could nearly hear the smug smirk in his voice as his hands wandered under your shirt to stroke your bare skin.

“Y-yeah,” your voice trembled as his calloused fingers grazed over your ribs, and you had to keep yourself from moaning. “Y-you’re kind of an ass.”

You remembered those days when you could barely make out a stuttering sentence in front of him, let alone tease him and get away with it. He had murdered people for far less back then, but now, he was something else entirely different, at least to you. He still projected that introverted, rough exterior towards everyone else except you and your children, but you had just accepted that as his personality.

In a brave move, you flipped over to straddle his lap and leaned in for a kiss.

Suddenly, two high-pitched voices began to draw closer and closer on the stairs, accompanied by light footsteps and followed by two pairs of much louder ones.

“C-come on kids! Stay down here and don’t disturb your parents!” You heard Mai’s voice ring out.

“But I want to play with daddy!” You heard your son say. They were awfully close and you were stuck in a provocative position, scrambling to get off and ending up falling ungracefully on your side like a turtle while Black watched in amusement.

“Daddy!” Your son leapt a good five feet into the air, which had surprised you at first but over time you had become accustomed to it. After all, all your life you had been surrounded by surreally strong warriors, on the account of being Vegeta’s only surviving family member.

Black caught him with ease and entertained him as if nothing had been happening before, you hastily scrabbling to pick yourself up from the ground. It was times like these that you wished you were as smooth as he was. Your daughter let out shouts of glee from Trunks’ arms, tugging at his colorful locks.

Both Mai and Trunks seemed to have figured out what you two were doing before there got there, judging by the embarrassed looks on their faces. Trunks passed your daughter into your arms as you thanked them, offering them tea for their trouble but they stated that they had an appointment coming up soon. Waving them goodbye, you watched as they turned into blurry specs in the sky while rocking your babbling daughter in your arms in a desperate attempt for her to go to sleep. You had a nagging suspicion that they left to give you two some privacy for whatever they suspected you were doing before being interrupted by your hyperactive children.

To be honest, that did seem like a pleasant break to the chaos two toddlers brought. But you loved them nonetheless, and you could tell by the smile on Black's face that he only revealed to you three that he felt the same.

“You know, you could’ve been really popular with the ladies with that smile,” you laughed quietly as you closed the door to your kids’ bedroom after tucking them in; they had quickly burned out all their seemingly endless energy after playing with their father, who was the only one with the stamina to match them. Perhaps letting them eat cake for dessert in the morning wasn’t the brightest idea. 

“What ladies?” Black snorted, rolling his eyes.

He entered your shared bedroom, pulling off his shirt and changing into a pair of sweatpants, leaving the battle-hardened muscles exposed to your wandering eyes. You changed too, trailing after him onto the couch in the living room and flicking on the television. You couldn’t really concentrate however, not with Black sitting in all his glory next to you, and who could blame you for looking? He had the body of a Roman God: a sculpted eight pack, bulging biceps and everything in between. To you Black was the epitome of perfection, and you to him.

Even just sitting on the couch, with his cheek propped up against a brawny forearm was enough to get you to melt.

It should be illegal to be so casually hot, you grinned cheekily at your own thoughts.

“I know you’re thinking something weird over there,” an unexpected flick to the nose jolted you out of your daydreams. “Something perverted again I assume?”

“N-no.”

He raised an incredulous eyebrow at you and you sighed. “Maybe….”

Black let out a noncommittal noise at the back of his throat and pulled something out of his pocket, swinging it uninterestingly in his hand. Your eyes widened in horror as you realized it was your phone. When did he get that? It had been in your back pocket for God’s sake!

“I know your phone password, Y/n.” Black threatened, turning on your phone. Of course, he had never gone on it before, in fear of scarring his eyes for life but hey, it was always a good time for firsts.

“Okay fine! I admit it you jerk! I was thinking about you!” You shoved his chest with both hands and muttered under your breath, snatching back your phone. God, he loved to rile you up.

Your back suddenly hit the couch below you, and your head was caged in by a pair of strong arms. “Then how about you stop imagining and show me?” Black’s lips ghosted over the junction between your neck and shoulders, making you shiver in anticipation.

“Gladly…” You reached to touch his bare chest before-

“Mommy! I think I peed!” Your son's wail interrupted the silence, and you both stiffened. 

“Aw shit. Not it!” You threw up your hands in front of you, and Black leaned back in irritation and exhaled loudly through his nose.

“Goddamnit…..”

Muscle Heads: Ohma x Raian

Chapter 3: Naughty

Raian glanced at the sleeping form next to him, Ohma’s chest rising and falling with each deep breath. He was so completely oblivious to the world around him that it could almost be considered overconfidence. 

The fact that anyone would be so relaxed as to sleep in his presence made Raian’s hands itch, as if he hadn’t caused enough trouble already. After Ohma’s room was destroyed by a particularly wild training session in which the crazy Kure decided to hurl him headfirst through the drywall, Grandfather Erioh had punished them by forcing Raian to let Ohma sleep in his room. 

And Ohma of course, though not particularly happy about it, did not give much of a shit. Raian loved riling up types like him, to see how far he could push him before he snapped, yet Ohma was much more resilient than any other man he’s seen. Living on the Inside has taught him enough patience to last a lifetime, so it was only a *minor* inconvenience to deal with someone like Raian.

Raian usually slept with the curtains open. He liked keeping the windows open at night and wasn’t someone who cared about privacy anyways. If someone was stupid enough to attack him in his sleep then let them. It would just be like a lamb walking into the mouth of a lion, and Raian was not one to reject any extra violence that so willingly placed itself into his grasp. 

His room was flooded with a dull, silver light, the moon was partially obscured by thick clouds tonight. He could smell rain in the air. 

A wide beam almost lined up perfectly with Ohma’s sprawled form, highlighting the edges of his face and captivating the attention of his roommate. 

Damn bastard doesn’t even know how pretty he is, Raian thought snarkily. Guys like Ohma normally annoyed him to no end, but he was different. It was almost endearing how clueless he was to his own charms. Almost. 

Wait. Since when did he start thinking Ohma was handsome? He’s been nothing but a pain in his ass since he showed up. Raian could feel the growing frustration well up in his chest, and he was almost tempted to throw the sleeping figure out of his room. 

He hated the feeling of confusion that began to flood over his body. Being confused was for the weak and for the prey that he devoured without a second thought. He didn’t think about petty girl shit like that. 

But it was hard for him not to look, with the way his dark lashes hung over his eyes or how his wild hair framed his cheekbones. 

Against his own mind, Raian had scooted closer to him to catch a better glimpse, staring almost creepily at Ohma’s face in the dark. 

Tch! There’s nothing special about this asshole! Raian scoffed to himself. He forced himself to roll over to the other side, facing the wall and yanking the blanket over himself almost aggressively. 

Dumb fucker’s getting in my head. 

But he still couldn’t go to sleep, even with his eyes screwed shut he saw him in his mind clear as day. 

Unfortunately for Raian, his subconscious knew better and had already begun trying to make Ohma his a while ago.

He had bought that shitty cologne from that big fragrance superstore that made his nose burn, glaring so hard at the cashier who had checked him out it was a wonder she didn’t burst into flames right then and there. 

He had snatched the bag away, leaving the poor girl shaking and stomped the entire way home in a foul mood. The cologne he had offhandedly chosen (it had taken him almost thirty minutes, never again) had been some sharp, oaky forest scent that he didn’t really care for but could still withstand without wanting to drown himself in the bathtub. (It totally wasn’t because Ohma spent a large portion of his time in the forest or anything.)

It was just so that old man Erioh would stop getting on his ass after missions for smelling like shit, Raian had told himself. 

And he had started running his hand through his hair in the morning (because Raian had never heard of a comb before), and bought new, fancier clothes. Not that he didn’t already have a revolving door of new clothes from how often he ripped them up, but these were slightly nicer. Just slightly. 

Luckily the only ones who seemed to notice were Hollis and Reiichi as perceptive as they were, and they were both unwilling to poke the hornet’s nest by bringing it up to him. 

But thinking was never Raian’s strong suit, anyways. Things tend to get blown up and destroyed when he thought too hard. 

Snorting, Raian reached over his shoulder and flicked his face, watching as Ohma grunted and scrunched up his nose, but still remained fast asleep. He did it harder this time, only for his hand to be batted away like a fly.

Growling, the troublemaker almost considered punching him in the face if that bastard kept ignoring him, but as his eyes slid down Ohma’s exposed torso he had a better idea.

Raian reared back his arm, aimed, and slammed his open palm down right into Ohma’s hard stomach with an audible SMACK that was sure to wake up half the manor.

It did the trick, all right.

Neither Ohma nor Raian slept a wink that night, nor did the entire Kure Village who were kept awake by their wild brawling.

The house shook with the force of their fight, and all through the night one could hear Raian’s wild howling and the sound of thudding blows. 

Though some of the groans emitted from their quarters sounded suspiciously like something else…

Muscle Heads: Ohma x Raian

Chapter 2: Off His Ass

“Raian that’s enough,” His sister, Fusui scolded angrily. “That’s like your thirteenth bottle.”

“Shut the fuck up, don’t tell me what to do!” Raian crowed loudly, smashing the bottle he had drained in seconds onto the ground and littering shards of glass everywhere. His sister let out a small ‘eep’ and danced away from the flying pieces, giving him a glare before Henzo pulled her away.

“Just leave him alone and he’ll be out like a light soon. Hopefully.” Henzo whispered. “Just don’t stir him up until then, okay?

“Fine,” Fusui groaned, eyeing distastefully at her brother who continued to cackle like a banshee.

“Alright who's next?” Raian waved another bottle in the air, but everyone else who had been willing to challenge him had collapsed in a near-alcohol induced coma on the ground. 

“Tch, pussies.” Raian sneered and stomped out the door of the Kure dining room, wandering about the garden in search of a good fight. His normally milky skin was flushed a light pink from the alcohol, and there was an uncertainty in his normally solid swagger as ambled around the massive yard.

The sharp sound of skin hitting stone reverberated through the crisp air, drawing the demon Kure’s attention away from his aimless walk and towards the more isolated part of the estate.

It was Ohma, practicing the Niko style against a pile of huge boulders. Sweat dripped off his bare chest, forming rivers that soaked into his baggy pants as he huffed in exertion. Still unaware of the other man’s presence over the noise of shattering stone, he went to grab another rock before a raspy voice made him freeze.

“What’s up, fucker?” 

A large, muscular arm dropped heavily across Ohma’s shoulders which he immediately pushed off.

“What the hell do you want Raian?” 

“Nothin’ much,” Raian sniggered and leaned closer, black scleras glinting maliciously in the dim light. “Wanna fight?”

“No, dumbass. Are you drunk?” Ohma wrinkled his nose at the overwhelming smell of wine on his breath. Great, as if a sober Raian wasn’t already a massive pain in the ass. “I’m not carrying you back to your room if you crash.”

“Try me, bitch.” 

The first punch knocked him back four feet, but Raian managed to stay upright, blinking rapidly to clear the dizziness in his head.

“Time to dominate!” Letting out a feral roar, Raian pounced. He beat down on his rival with wild animal strength, different from his normal-slightly more composed-Kure style. 

Despite the frenzied blows, Ohma had no problem dodging or blocking each one, though his arm began to throb soon enough under the intense barrage of attacks. If Raian had nothing else, he had brute strength enough to make any man tremble in fear. But Ohma was no normal man, and he had dealt with types like the hot-headed assassin before. Though they were much weaker at the very least.

“Hey, your old man might not be pleased with all the holes you’re leaving in the yard.” Ohma evaded a roundhouse kick and bounced back, gesturing at the substantial craters dotting the ground. “You’re ripping up all the grass.”

“Fuck that! Fight me Tokita, or are you too big of a pussy?!” His frustration with Ohma’s refusal for a real fight exploded into the form of hurling rocks like cannonballs.

Is this son of a bitch crazy? 

Ohma almost smacked himself at that thought as a human-sized boulder whizzed past his ear and battered right into the wall of the Kure manor. Raian was the definition of crazy, his face was probably plastered all over the dictionary page.

“RAIAN?! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING BOY?!” A shout halted Raian’s throwing spree momentarily, enough for Ohma to disarm him and put him into a headlock.

“We were just sparring old man,” Raian cackled, fingers prying at Ohma’s arm wrapped around his neck.

“No we were not.” Ohma started to peel his fingers out of his forearm. He had half a mind to break them. 

“I don’t care what you are doing, cease this racket immediately! I won’t tell you twice Raian,” Grandfather Erioh pointed at him with his cane. “And you, Ohma! Take him back to his room and watch him!”

Knowing better than to argue with the grandfather, Ohma begrudgingly led Raian back to his room tucked securely under his armpit. He was sure Raian could have broken out at any time, so why didn’t he?

Shaking his head, he knew better than to try to delve into Raian’s brain or else he would probably develop a migraine.

“Try not to destroy everything here, brat.” Ohma finally let him go after they reached his quarters, sliding the door shut before Raian could attack him again. During the five minute walk Raian had coughed and sneezed on him twice (he was starting to think he was doing it on purpose) as Ohma struggled to keep his large frame moving. He also thought it was fun to pinch his ass, hard. Snarling, Ohma slapped him in the face and opted for just dragging the drunk man by the arms, who went limp but continued to whine like a foul-mouthed child. 

Ohma had never wanted to murder someone so badly in his entire life.

After pulling the two-hundred-pound psychopath to his bed, Ohma was finally able to settle down in his own room,  keeping a keen ear out for him in case he decided to act up again. 

Hearing no sound from the other side, Ohma hesitantly let his eyes slip close for his daily image training. Ever since he began living with the Kures, more and more of them began slipping into his dream-battles. The three most common frequenters were always Reiichi, Hollis, and Raian. The latter slipped into his dreams the most, much to his displeasure. Dream Raian was just as annoying as the real Raian himself. 

And of course, today it was him who appeared once again. 

A loud crash seared through his concentration just as dream Raian opened his fat mouth, shocking Ohma onto his feet. He let out an irritated huff through his nose, clenching his teeth so hard they almost chipped as he yanked open the door. 

“Can’t you just settle down, you son of a bitch?” Ohma swore under his breath when he saw Raian sprawled out on the floor, reminiscent of a pale human-sized bear rug. He was almost tempted to just shut the door and pretend he didn’t see anything, but Raian had wedged his fingers into the floorboards and was in the process of peeling back the wood with a resounding snap.

Storming over, Ohma yanked his hand away only to be met with a slew of curses and a directionally-challenged fist that went straight through the floor.

“Do I need to tie you up, Raian?”

“Suck a cock, dumbass!”  

Raian suddenly reached out a hand to grab his ankle, pulling his body towards him and sending Ohma sliding on his ass as he knocked the back of his head against the floor. With surprising agility for someone that drunk, he hauled himself onto Ohma’s chest….and promptly threw up. 

It took a moment for the unfortunate man to process what had fully happened as Raian wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, sneering at him all the while. 

And then he snapped.

With a roar of rage Ohma slung Raian across the room with all the force he could muster and stormed out, bashing the door so hard that it flew off the hinges behind him as he walked stiffly to the restroom. He ripped off his clothes-they weren’t worth saving at that point-and angrily turned the shower knob all the way to the highest temperature. He wiped what was left of the vomit off his face and scrubbed his body with a rough sponge until it stung, silently cursing the old man Erioh and Raian the entire time.

Soon, the heat began to burn and Ohma was forced to exit before his skin turned a bright lobster red. Steam had overtaken the room, making it difficult to see as he blindly groped around for a towel. Therefore he was more than surprised when his foot landed on something hard and warm, something human.

“Fuck!” 

A yellowed rag was thrust in his face, making him flinch backward as Raian got up from the floor. He was so white that his body almost blended with the tiles in the steam.

Had he been there the entire time?

“Here.” Raian’s voice was raspier than usual as he dangled the cloth in front of Ohma’s face.

“What the hell is this?”

“Towel.”

“It’s filthy Raian,” Ohma scrunched his nose and pushed his arm away.

“Didn’t say it was clean.”

Sighing, he moved past him and grabbed a fresh one, eyes catching on the bright red droplets leading in a trail from the entrance. The tiny dots led to a small pool where Raian had been sitting, seeping slowly from a few cuts on his back when he had collided with the wall.

“Go take a shower, punk.”

“Ha! In your drea-” Ohma forced his head down, cutting off the rest of his sentence before walking him to the shower and shutting him in. He got dressed in record time and leaned his back against the door just as Raian attempted to crawl back out, abruptly ending his escape. There was a low curse as his face was once again introduced to the door.

“I’m not letting you out until you’re clean. You smell like shit-”

“Says who, you pig!”

“-and you’re getting blood everywhere.” He waited for a few seconds while the sounds of Raian’s heavy breathing was the only sound coming from the stall, and still no signs of any running water. A minute passed and there was still no movement from within.

“Do I have to do everything myself?!” Ohma snarled, opening the door and turning the water on cold. “Are you fucking five?!”

A hand twisted itself into his collar and wrenched him in, putting him in the direct line of the freezing water. His back arched instinctively to avoid it, unintentionally pressing himself into the body below.

Shivering uncontrollably, he fought to get Raian’s hands off him while simultaneously spinning the dial to warm, grinding his teeth to fight off the urge to strangle this man in the shower. 

When he moved to get off, the hands in his collar wouldn’t budge. “Let go Raian. Don’t make me tell you twice.”

“Why don’t you make me?” Raian mocked, still fully clothed. The white shirt he had been wearing, now stained pink with blood, turned transparent under the downpour, clinging tightly to his well-defined muscles. The blue jeans had turned dark and wet, emphasizing brawny calves and rock-hard thighs, leading up to a prominent bulge in his pants that Ohma was quite familiar with, courtesy of Kiryu Setsuna. But this however, felt different. (Excluding size differences)

Ohma tried not to stare, confusion evident in his expression. Why couldn’t he tear his eyes away? His brain told him to look away, but a more primal part of his body screamed otherwise. 

He couldn’t understand what that warm feeling was welling up inside his stomach, though it wasn’t particularly unpleasant, just...unfamiliar. 

It was puzzling when normally the only thing he had felt towards the devil of man was anger and exasperation, and the heat that usually came with those emotions were something of a different breed from what he was feeling right now.

“Remember Ohma, sometimes you just gotta throw your thoughts out the window and go for it, you know? Trust your gut, kid, and don’t think too hard or you’ll hurt yourself.”  Niko’s words bounced about in his head, echoing and gnawing away at any restraint he had left.

Fuck sensibility, Ohma growled, and Raian seemed to catch on. His gut had never led him wrong before, so there was no reason to deny it now. 

Surging forward Ohma latched his teeth onto his milky neck, instantly feeling a bright blossom of pain as Raian returned the bite with the same fervor. 

He was gonna need to take another shower.

***

“Were you guys fighting again last night?” Karla blinked at the multi-colored bruises peeking out from beneath Ohma’s collar during breakfast the next morning. Hollis spat out his food from the other side of the table and went into a coughing fit as Reiichi snickered behind his hand, half-heartedly slapping his cousin’s back in an attempt to dislodge the food. The rest of the Kures seemed to catch on too, most suddenly much more invested in their food or whispering into each other’s ears with mild giggling.

“...You could say that-” Ohma began only to have Raian obnoxiously butt in with a wide smirk on his face.

“That wasn’t what you said when you were on your knees last night!” 

There was a chorus of groans and wolf whistles as Ohma smacked Raian’s face into his mashed potatoes with a solid splat.

They were banished to sleep in the yard that night.