#I’m so glad rats is back man

[teddy-bear-d]

So… Rats in Paris huh?

[full Martyn and Scott piece undercut]

[dashing-disaster]

Bad Beer and Naked Rodents

Thank you @xmidhel for beta reading!

also on AO3

“You know,” Sal drawls, twisting the cap off another beer and handing it over, “for someone with an above average IQ, you’re dense as fuck.”

Tommy glares but accepts the bottle without protest. It’s his third. He takes a long sip and shudders. Bud Light. Why did Sal have to be such a fucking stereotype? But he was too tired to complain. He was too tired to do much of anything right now.

“He’s not wrong,” Lucy said to his left and Tommy directed his glare towards her instead. Like Sal, she wasn’t impressed.

“What? You know it’s true. There you are, genuinely happy for the first time in…” she pauses to think, “for the first time since I met you, actually.”

“Ever” Tommy supplies miserably, sinking further into the couch cushions. Something pokes into his right kidney and he reaches underneath himself, pulling out a small doll with messy blue hair, a pink ruffled dress and a … horn?

“Unicorn Barbie,” Sal exclaims and snags the doll from his hand. “Thanks man, you just saved this household a lot of sweat and tears. Look, babe, he found her!”

“Uncle Tommy to the rescue,” Gina says dryly, without even looking up from her laptop where she’s furiously typing some email that’s probably important and Tommy feels a pang of guilt at intruding on her peace and quiet unannounced at 9pm on a week day, Lucy in tow. He’s unable to dwell on it, however, because Lucy pipes up again.

“Let’s circle back here for a moment, your life was going great, you were happy, your hair was even starting to look good-“

“Hey!”

“Don’t interrupt me, Thomas. My point is, you got scared of commitment for three seconds and tell Evan Buckley, Evan Buckley, to go off to frolic on Grindr? I’m sorry, but do you know how stupid that is? Do you have any idea what happens to guys like Evan Buckley on Grindr?”

“Say his name like that one more time and I swear to God.” It comes out with far more venom than intended and he cringes internally. Why does he have to be such a bitch? It’s a credit to their love for him that none of his friends even bat an eye.

They’re not gentle either, and Tommy’s kind of glad about it. He doesn’t deserve gentle. Not now, maybe not ever again.

“What happens to guys like him on Grindr,” Sal asks curiously and then frowns. “And what do you know about Grindr?”

“My cousin wanted to try it out but he’s super paranoid about technology stealing his data, man’s still got a Nokia. So we set up his profile on my phone. He decided it wasn’t for him 10 minutes in but I kept the app and sometimes I go window shopping when downtime gets too long.”

“Why am I not surprised in the slightest,” Tommy mutters into his beer. Lucy is undeterred.

“Anyway, Gabe’s no hag either and similarly baby-faced as Buck so every time I open the app they’re on him in minutes. Seriously, it’s like The Walking Dead and some of the messages I get are borderline illegal. And don’t get me started on the dick pics. They’re not even nice-looking dicks most of the time.”

“Is there such a thing as a nice-looking dick? I’ve always found they all look a little like mole-rats.”

Sal, who’s been fiddling with Unicorn Barbie’s hair in a futile attempt to get out some of the knots pauses and makes a pitiful little sound staring wide-eyed at his wife who’s still neither looking up from her screen, nor is she pausing her aggressive typing, and Tommy’s both impressed and a little scared of that level of multi-tasking.

“Don’t worry, bud, Gi loves your dick. You’ve got three little monsters to prove it.”

Sal shoots Lucy a look so dirty Tommy almost laughs.

“I love the man attached to it. It’s still a mole-rat, though.” A beat of silence, then Gina looks up from her laptop for the first time in two hours, finding her husband’s eyes across the coffee table. “I love mole-rats.”

Lucy snorts, but Sal looks so pleased even Tommy has to smile.

“Still, though,” Lucy picks up the previous topic again, “are we sure it’s a good idea to throw Buck into a world of mole-rats and creepy old dudes wanting him to call them ‘daddy’?”

Tommy decidedly does not look in Sal’s direction. He loves Lucy and Gina but this is a topic one only discusses with one’s very best of friends.

“A world of disappointment, more like. Buck’s had Tommy now, anything else will just be a let-down.” The dirty grin spreading on Sal’s face tells Tommy he’s about to be in trouble. And he’s right.

“We didn’t call my boy here Nine-Inch-Nail in high school for nothin’.”

“Okay, first of all, that is such a lie,” the grin goes impossibly wider, “and second, I am not 9 inches, okay?”

Three sets of eyes wander down to his crotch and if it wasn’t these exact three people, Tommy would be so uncomfortable right now. As it is, he simply huffs and shoves a throw pillow into his lap, crossing his arms like a petulant toddler.

“I’m 8.6.”

Silence.

Then all three of them burst out laughing. He tries to hold on to his petulance, but he only lasts about ten seconds before the corners of his mouth begin to twitch and he finds himself joining in against all odds.

“As I was saying,” Sal hiccups after they’ve all calmed down again, “Buck doesn’t need any other mens’ mole-rats. He only needs Tommy’s giant mole-rat.”

Tommy groans.

“God, I hate you.”

Half past midnight Gina pulls the plug and throws them out. Sal tries to offer him the guest room, but he declines. As much as he loves his best friend’s daughters, he doubts he’ll can be Fun Uncle Tommy in the morning and he hates disappointing them.

As they wait for their Uber to pull up, Tommy feels strong fingers wrap around his wrist and a moment later he’s pulled into a tight hug.

“Don’t fuck up your life like that, Tom, not again. You were finally so happy. And I like you happy. ” Sal’s voice is quiet next to his ear, but there’s a softness to it that is usually reserved for his daughters. Tommy feels his throat close up and he buries his face into Sal’s shoulder.

“I just don’t know how not to, Sallie,” he admits and hates how forlorn it sounds.

How forlorn he feels.

“You trust him. I know it’s the most terrifying thing to do, believe me I do. But you gotta.”

Sal pulls back to catch his eyes, but keeps hold of Tommy’s shoulders.

“This man is the best thing that’s ever happened to you, Tom, and if you give up on what you have now, you will regret it for the rest of your life. But in order to keep it, you need to let him in and you need to trust him to know what he wants. It’s not your place to decide that for him.

And I know you want to let him set the pace, but you can only do that as long as you’re able to keep up. This relationship is about the both of you and if things are moving too fast, you have to tell him that. It’s not fair to either of you if you don’t.

And Tommy, you have to talk to him about your shit.”

Tommy opens his mouth to protest but Sal shuts him up with a shake of his head.

“No buts. Buck isn’t stupid. Do you really think he hasn’t clocked by now that you have trauma? I’m not saying you gotta tell him all of it at once. But you need to start somewhere.”

Sal pulls him back in roughly and presses a kiss to his temple.

 “I’ve seen the way that boy looks at you. He wants to take care of your heart so badly. Let him. Let him love you. All of you.

And if it all goes to shit anyway, you know that I’ll be right here. I always will be.”

Tommy bursts into tears.

It’s 3am when he finally finds himself knocking at the same door he closed behind himself for what he thought would be the last time less than ten hours ago.

It’s telling that it takes Evan just under half a minute to open it. It’s more telling that his eyes are red-rimmed, and he’s still wearing the same clothes.

Evan’s terrible at hiding his emotions, doesn’t even try to most of the time. It’s one of the many things Tommy loves about him.

Right now, he seems to experience all of them at the same time.

Hope, when he opens the door. Relief, when his eyes fall on Tommy in the hallway.

Hurt, anger, fear, concern, fondness, and finally back to hope.

He’s silent. Waiting.

Tommy takes a breath.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

They look at each other, the insecurity and fear hanging between them like a cloud of vapor, so thick Tommy can almost taste it.

But there’s something else, too. Smaller, more fragile, and yet persistent like a moth chasing the light.

It’s the same thing Tommy’s seen in Evan’s eyes earlier.

Hope.

For a time, neither of them moves, as if they’re scared, that if they do it’ll spook and leave them alone in the dark again.

A minute passes. Two.

Somewhere in the building a baby begins to cry.

Evan steps aside.

[moutainrusing]

soft

575 words, @rosekillermicrofic

Class was boring, so Barty flicked his best friend in the forehead and muttered under his breath, just loud enough so that the other students around them could hear and gossip about it later, “Heard you went soft, Rosie.”

“Soft when?” Evan shoved Barty away, trying to focus on what he was writing. Algebra.

Barty smirked twistedly, “While you were inside—”

Evan pressed his pencil into the book harshly, “No one, I was inside—”

“And that’s why she broke up with you,” Barty finished smugly.

Finally, Evan dropped the pencil and looked up from his work to glare at him, “Can you stop making up rumours—?”

“Who me?” Barty clutched his chest in faux-innocence. “I’d never. You’re my ride-or-die, Evan. As in, I ride you or I die—”

“Thought I’m too soft,” he scoffed, picking up his pencil.

“Nah, you’re always hard in me,” Barty leaned back in his chair to watch him.

“Must be painful,” Evan snarked, writing again.

“I’ve gotten used to it,” Barty swung forward.

Evan made a face at his scribbled maths. “Wait, how long have we been—?”

Barty gasped, “You don’t remember?! I’m calling quits.”

“Two break ups in one day,” Evan shook his head, hair falling into his eyes as he got out an eraser. “How am I coping?”

“Botox,” Barty blurted, staring at his face.

“Figured out my secret,” Evan muttered, concentrating intensely on erasing his botched-up maths, scrunching the paper while he did so.

“It’s a botched-up job,” Barty hummed, crossing his arms.

“I’m switching surgeons,” Evan casually brushed the rubber crumbs off his ruined page, looking pleased at how he’d fixed his mistake by rubbing it out. Barty wanted to laugh at him.

“No one could fix your face,” he pushed.

Ignorantly, Evan played into Barty’s fabricated game, “You used to fuck me, what’re you complaining about?”

Grinning, Barty said mournfully, “Don’t bring up bad memories. The wound’s still fresh, we broke up today.”

“I’m glad,” Evan said shortly. He wrote something down and added, “You’re skanky.”

Barty wasn’t sure if he was addressing him or the algebra. Either way, “Rat.”

“I’ma set my man on you,” Evan continued glaring at the maths.

“Already got a new man?” Barty raised an eyebrow. “Slut.”

“Misogynist.”

“You’re the one feeding into sexist beauty standards.”

“Don’t shame the plastic surgery.”

Barty could feel the eyes of the kids behind them flicking between their conversation like they were watching a sitcom. He bit back a grin, “What if I liked the way you looked before?”

Evan glanced up at him as if he was weird. “I still look the same. I didn’t actually—”

“Good.”

“What?”

“You okay about the break up with Celeste, yeah?”

“She didn’t break up with me ‘cause I went soft,” Evan deadpanned.

“I know. But you’re cool about it?” Barty checked.

Evan paused. Leaned closer to him and whispered in his ear so that no one could hear, “I broke up with her. I let her say that it was her choice.” He shrugged and went back to trying to understand the algebra, which they both knew was a pointless endeavour. Evan never grasped any concept until they went home and Barty showed him.

Barty stared at him for a moment. Nudged his shoulder, “Why did you…?”

Evan shrugged him off. He was blushing. He liked someone else. Another girl, Barty thought. He pushed that thought away, cooed, “Aw, Rosie.”

Evan blushed harder. Barty felt nothing.

[deadsetobsessions]

AU of Gotham! Tim Drake! Danny where he doesn’t know the universe he was reincarnated into.

“Robin!” Batman barked. Tim sighed, loudly. Batman twitched.

“What is it, B?”

“Drills. Again.”

Tim rolled his eyes but moved to obey. Speaking to B these days was like speaking to a rather boorish caveman. Simple grunts and single word sentences. It didn't use to be like this but B was loosing his grip on his humanity and it’s Tim’s job to bring it back.

It’s hilarious because he’s the least human of them all. It was odd, juggling his duties as Danny Gotham, his responsibilities as Tim, and his workload as Bruce’s shiny new Robin. Somehow he made it work.

Yeah, sometimes B’s hands are heavy when they’re training. Sometimes he forgets Danny’s name (or at least his human name) and calls for Jason instead. Sometimes, he smells more like booze and less like Bruce.

Danny could handle it. Even if his core quivers with grief. He wished he didn’t have to, but he could and will handle whatever he needs to for his Knight to regain himself. But fuck, that doesn’t mean taking his self destructive habits lying down. He might be Tim right now, but as far as Batman knew, Tim was here on the orders of

“B.”

“Hm.”

Oh, a neutral grunt! I see we’ve upgraded to grunts instead of arm flapping! Holy detective, Batman! Aren’t I glad I learned to speak cave man? Wow! Tim mocked, in his head.

“You’re heading to bed when I’m done with this set,” Tim said.

“This case isn’t done,” Batman growled. Ancients, it was like speaking to a large chihuahua-toddler hybrid. All the barking, all the growling, and all the petulance of a child makes the entirety of how his Knight acted on a good day these days.

“That wasn’t a suggestion,” Tim shot back, sore arms and legs and everything working through the set. Thank the ancients for his healing, or else Tim might actually be dying.

“You don’t give me orders, Robin.”

“No, but Gotham does.” He would know, considering Tim was Gotham.

The head full of greasy- ew, take a shower, B!- hair swiveled towards him.

“You have a direct line to Gotham?”

Tim settled into the final forms of the night. “Gotham sent me. I thought we went over this.”

A beat of silence.

Batman returned to clacking away at the computer. Tim finished his set in relative peace. He moved to the cool down stretches while Batman sulked in front of his computer like a five year old.

“I’m done.” He said, crossing his arms.

“Hm.”

“That means you’re done, too.”

“I’m not tired.”

Tim rolled his eyes so hard, he thinks he saw the light. Oh, wait, that’s just Bruce’s last brain cell dying.

“You’re heading to bed. Good luck finding actual crime tomorrow, if you stay up.”

Batman stilled, because he knows Gotham would back Tim up on the threat. Considering the time sensitivity of some of these cases, Gotham’s anger is not something he could risk.

Tim patted himself on the back for effectively playing the good cop and the bad cop on his own. Except ACAB for life because they’re vigilantes and the GCPD as a whole (with exceptions) sucks ass.

He watched as Batman- as Bruce- reluctantly powered down the Bat-Computer. As he stood up, Tim wrinkled his nose.

“Never mind. You take a shower first. I’ll text Alfred.”

“Not necessary.”

“Okay, then you can explain to Gotham why you’re traipsing through his city looking a starved rat and smelling like you took a joy ride in Killer Croc’s excrement. Oh, wait.” Tim snapped, just about done being patient today. Tim whipped out his phone, texting Alfred with one hand and pointing towards the staircase with the other.

“Shower above ground, you weird little mole rat. No cave water for you.”

Bruce makes a weird offended grunt.

“I literally don’t care if you have to walk up to your room to shower in your boxers, B. Most of Gotham’s people don’t have access to a shower, let alone a million dollar bathroom. Fucking use your actual bathroom instead of hosing off.”

And with that, Batman and Bruce Wayne moved to the tune of a pre-teen, who was also, unknowingly to him, the spirit of his City.

——

“Go home.”

Tim smiled sweetly. Bruce paled. The scary, Gotham loved child patted Bruce’s hand as he sat beside Bruce’s bed.

“Sleep, before I make you.”

Bruce slammed his eyelids shut, anything to not look at Tim’s malicious looking eyes, and allowed himself- nay, forced himself- to rest for the first time in weeks since Jason died.

As Bruce’s dumb self drifted off to dreamland, Tim muttered, “Wuss.”

He settled himself into the chair, napping lightly to make sure Bruce doesn’t sneak out to work when he’s gone.

Alfred snapped a quick picture.

[vanillanaps]

Still Get Jealous | Steve Rogers

Request - Hello, I think you are a master writer and I have a drabble of blurb request only if you’re up for it though. Could you write a jealously trope for steve using the song red high heels? :> If it doesn’t inspire anything, that is okay. Thank you!

A/n - I must’ve forgotten how to write drabbles/blurb cause babyyy I got carried again lmaoo. But, unfortunately anon I didn’t find inspiration with the song you requested I still wanted give you jealousy and red high heels, hope it still fulfills you!!

Category - Steve Rogers x Reader, Angst

Warnings - Steve is a jealous asshole with a reckless mouth, reader drinks to ignore the pain

Word Count - 1.3k

♡♡♡♡

It had been approximately two weeks since Steven Grant Rogers left you alone in your apartment after he had broken up with you. In just a little over a month, it would’ve been your year anniversary with Steve. You were both happy and getting ready to take things to the next level, so it was beyond shocking when he sat you down to explain that he ‘just couldn’t do it anymore’ but you were smart enough to spot the bullshit.

Regardless, you cried. You were falling in love, hard and fast just for him to up and leave you out of the blue. But, as the second week of sulking had taken its time slowly ending, something in you snapped. You realized that you shouldn’t be home, crying and depressed about a man who clearly couldn’t give a rats ass about you.

Wiping your tears, you sat up as you searched for your phone in your tangled sheets and blanket. Once you found it, you quickly dialed the number of your favorite girl who could easily take you out of your slump, “Wanda?”

“Hey, Y/n. I’m so glad you called, you haven’t been responding to my text, I was worried.” She had answered the phone with concern in her voice.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I just,” You paused, sighing as you threw your covers off of yourself, jumping out of bed, “I’m just sick of crying over Steve you know? I want to go out, I want to have fun, I want to get back to who I was before him—and I wanna do it tonight.”

“Tonight? Y/n, are you sure you’re ready?” Wanda questioned. She was fully supportive of getting you out of the house, but she just wanted you to be sure.

“Yes, tonight. Be ready in an hour.” You told her, hanging up before she could respond, knowing she would try to mother you. Get your real feelings out as to why you were so suddenly ready to go out. But that’s not what you wanted. Even if it was for one night, you just wanted Steve off your mind.

♡♡♡♡

The music blasted loudly in the speakers surrounding the club, the atmosphere through the roof. As you took it all in, you could slowly feel the man slipping from your mind, “Let’s get a drink!” You shouted to Wanda. The two of you held hands as you shuffled to the bar, careful not to lose each other in the club, “Tequila shots please!”

“How many?”

“Just keep them coming!” You shouted to the bartender. He nodded, pouring up the shots and passing them over onto the counter.

“Are you sure, Y/n?!” Wanda asked, picking up her shot as you grabbed yours.

You nodded, “I just need one night not thinking about that—idiot!”

She nodded before holding up her glass to cheer with you, “To forgetting about that idiot!” You both laughed before clicking your glasses and taking the shots.

As promised, the bartender kept the shots coming after each time you both finished one. You felt there was no better way than drowning your sorrows than letting the liquor run through your body, mellowing you out and then letting you forget about the world surrounding you.

But no alcohol in the world could help him forget. Not as he stood in the back corner of the club, watching as you and Wanda take shots back to back. At first, it didn’t bother him. You were out with your friend, having a good time. His ears didn’t turn red from anger until he saw what you were wearing. You had his favorite number on.

A black, skimpy, body con dress that squeezes you in all the right ways, showing off your attributes that he loved. Barely covering your ass so if you were to bend over, the entire club could see all of you. You had your hair in his favorite style and not to mention that red gloss that was painted across those lips that felt like heaven to him. But that wasn’t the worst of it.

Steve made his way closer to you, not close enough to be seen but close enough for his eyes to trail those legs that used to be wrapped around him 24/7. Catching those red, sexy, strappy, five inch stilettos that he bought you. The ones he use to fuck you endlessly in. How could he be such a fucking idiot.

“Wanda, I wanna danceeee!” You slurred, all of those shots starting to take control of your mind and body. You felt good, you felt great.

“Come on!” Taking her last shot, she grabbed your hands quickly pulling you to the dance floor.

You weren’t sure when it happened or how it happened, but at one moment, you were dancing with your best friend, having the time of your life. The next, your ass was pushed up against some man’s crotch as you grinded on him. His hands trailing to any part of your body he could reach. You didn’t mind though, you deserved this. You especially didn’t mind when he nuzzled his face into your neck, pressing soft kisses into your shoulder and neck. For the moment, you were enjoying it and then—you weren’t.

“The fucks your problem dude?!” The random man yelled when you were snatched from his hold.

Your body ran cold when you pulled yourself together, just long enough to see who ruined your dance, “Steve?! What are you doing?!” He ignored you as he grabbed your hand and dragged you through the club and to the exit, “Stop it! Let me go!” He didn’t stop until he got you outside of the club, “What’s your issue?!”

“Two weeks huh? That’s all it took for you to be in the club? Dressed like a hooker and dancing like a slut?” Steve shouted. Immediately he regretted it when he saw the look on your face, but there was nothing he could do to take it back now.

You scoffed, shaking your head, “You’re a real piece of shit, you know that Steve? You broke up with ME for no reason! I cried for two weeks straight because of you! But now, since I’m in the club, with a hooker outfit that YOU bought me, by the way, I’m a slut?!”

Steve's blood was running hot and he was running of anger and jealousy, “You’re drunk, Y/n.”

“I’m not drunk!” You shouted, right before stumbling over your feet, “I’m not that drunk! I’m sober enough to realize that I was doing and to tell you to leave me the fuck alone! I’m not going to spend the rest of my life crying over you when you don't want me! And that stunt you just pulled? Let alone calling me a hooker and a slut all in the same breath? I’m glad we broke up!” You felt it, you felt the tears starting to bubble underneath your eyes, but you didn’t let them fall, “Just leave me alone! I just want to be the person I was before you ruined me, you asshole!”

“Y/n, I’m sorry.” He called out as you started to back away from him, “I broke up with you because I was scared! Everything between us was moving fast and—and I didn’t know what to do so I left!”

“I don’t care, Steve! I don’t care! It’s too late!” You shook your head, not wanting to hear any more excuses. Not wanting him to ruin your night anymore than he already had, “Go find someone else to be scared to fall in love with.”

Just then, Wanda came running out of the club, relieved to see you standing there, “Oh my god, I’ve been looking for you! I was worried.” She breathed, but halted in her tracks when she saw Steve a couple feet away, “Steve? What are you doing here?”

“Leaving, he’s leaving.” You responded for him, turning your back to him and facing Wanda, “Let’s go back inside, I need another drink.”

She nodded, wrapping her arm with yours as the two of you headed back inside without so much as a glance back at the man who realized he truly lost everything.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

good morning!! it's @henderdads' birthday!!!! happy happy happy birthday to youuuu cass!!!

The minute Eddie Munson turned 18, he could see it; the only color he would see until he and his soulmate kissed for the first time.

Yellow.

Rays and rays of warm yellow sunshine, the middle light (and middle light only) of the one stoplight in town, one half of their school colors, the dandelions spotted agross the grass between the trailers, the stubborn daffodils that keep reappearing in Ms. Wilson’s garden though she’s long since passed…

The half-toned things he’s told are green, half yellow, half blue, and that he got lucky his soulmate’s favorite color wasn’t black or gray (then he felt glad he’d settled on a different color than either of those by time he was older, he didn’t want to subject his soulmate to more black and white..

After Steve Harrington turns 18, he can see the color of the lipstick his mom wore in their last family portrait, the color of the punch that gets spilled all over Nancy’s shirt at Tina’s halloween party, the stripes and piping on his godforsaken Scoops uniform, the red of his own blood rushing down the drain beneath his feet.

The dark tone puddled beneath Eddie’s limp body in the Upside Down.

The same color splashed onto Dustin’s arms and legs.

Pressing his hands into it to stop it from spreading, to start it flowing again, Steve presses his lips to Eddie’s once…he hasn’t done CPR since he worked at the pool….twice…”C’mon man, don’t leave him like this.”....

The third time is when it happens.

The feeble beat of Eddie’s heart starting again, the push of breath into his lungs, the sudden flood of cool, dark colors around them. 

“Eddie? Eddie! C’mon man, stay with me.”

It looks like it takes a herculean effort to do so, but Eddie’s eyes open. “H–hey, Harrington. Wh–”

“I’m going to pick you up now, Ed,” Steve says, doing just that, tucking Eddie into his chest and starting for the trailer. “El is keeping the gate open for us but we gotta hurry.”

The four of them manage to get him out through the gate and into the RV, this time with Nancy behind the wheel. 

Having to let him go at the doors to the ER is one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do, but he manages, Robin telling him over and over again that she’d already called Eddie’s Uncle and that he’d be safe.

While they’re waiting, filthy and exhausted but victorious nonetheless, Nancy says to him: “It’s blue, by the way. The…everything down there has some sort of blue tinge to it.”

Steve doesn’t ask how she knew, just appreciates that he can look at something and she’ll tell him the name of the color. 

The pattern of the chairs is orange and purple, the plant in the corner is green (“All plants are some shade of it for the most part.”), the wallpaper is his favorite though.

“It’s yellow.”

“I guess I know what color Eddie’s been seeing the past few years..” It’s the first and last thing he says until Wayne Munson comes to get them.

“You three need’ta be looked at too. Not jus’ Henderson.”

He leads them back to a room, and Steve recognizes Dr. Owens there waiting for them.

They get looked over, they get cleaned up, and Steve gets a shot of something that’s supposed to help stave off anything those flying rats may have given him.

And for the next week, he stays. 

He and Wayne maintain a constant vigil at Eddie’s bedside. Wayne leaves for his shifts when he has to, Steve is allowed to stay because of his soulmate status, and Eddie wakes up a little more than a week later.

Wayne had left a couple hours ago, so Steve will have to call him at the plant but first: “Steve?” Eddie manages to croak out when his eyes crack open the first time.

“Hey Eds, welcome back to the world of the living.”

Eddie shuts his eyes and huffs a laugh, then cringes, “Still painful as always, I see.”

“Oh yeah? What else do you see?”

Steve watches his brow furrow as he tries to make sense of the question, watches as he opens his eyes again, a bit further this time, and when they widen in amazement as they travel around the room.

“What–? What the hell..?” The heightened beeping of his heart monitor makes Steve feel almost giddy, getting to watch him see this for the first time. “What nurse kissed me while I was out?” He pauses, staring down a painting of colorful wildflowers on the opposite wall before turning back to Steve. “And can they come back so I can get more pain meds?”

Steve chuckles as he stands stiffly from the hospital chair he’d been all but glued to for the last week, reaching over Eddie’s head to press the call button.

“What’s so funny?”

“You, of course.”

“Thank you, I try, but what’d I do this time?”

“It wasn’t a nurse, Eds.”

Eddie blinks at him for a moment, confused, “I don’t quite have the brainpower for riddles, Stevie.”

Steve’s stomach flips at the nickname, “It wasn’t a nurse, it was when we were still in the—down there.” he pauses, feeling suddenly embarrassed. Did Eddie want it to be him? His first assumption was one of the nurses… “Someone had to give you CPR.”

He watches as Eddie scrolls through what he can only assume is a roster of their “Team Vecna”; Nancy? It’s been known that she’s been able to see in full color since she and Jonathan got together. Dustin? Yeah..no. Ro–

“And it wasn’t Robin.” Steve says when he sees Eddie’s lips curl into an ‘R’.

“Then who—”

It dawns on him at the same time the summoned nurse arrives with a new shot of whatever it is he needs.

She leaves with an excited “We’ll call Wayne!”, and Eddie drops his head back to his pillow.

Steve’s stomach twists anxiously. “Eddie?”

“So you’re telling me that the one and only Steve Harrington gave me the kiss of life and also the gift of colorvision, and I wasn’t conscious enough to experience it properly?”

Steve ducks his head, scratching behind his ear nervously. “Uh…yeah…? Sorry Eddi–”

“Can you do it again?”

His head snaps up again, “Huh?”

“And preferably before I lose the battle for my consciousness?”

Eddie’s face is soft and open, a smile quirking the pink of his lips and crinkling those dark eyes of his…Who is Steve to tell him no?

He smiles softly in return and stands.

Leaning forward with his weight braced to one side of Eddie’s head, the other hand coming up to cup his uninjured cheek, Steve kisses him properly for the first time.

The first of many many many more to come.

eeee i hope you liked this little thing!!! i've never written anything w soulmates before!! 🥹 i hope you have the most bestest day today, friend!! 🫶🫶

[missfrustration]

strictly curse dispelling (reigen arataka x fem!reader) 18+

Rating: explicit 18+, minors do not interact!

A/n: This is part 2 of my "messin' with a psychic" series, but reading part 1 isn't necessary. on ao3 here!

tags: porn with plot!!, a lot of plot, smut, vaginal sex, oral sex, second time, hook-up, relaxing massages, improper use of massage tables, light dom/sub, light choking, no condom, doggy style, office sex, suits, scratching, semi-public sex, no use of y/n

word count: 8.7k (too long)

part 1 part 2

Your cup of coffee falls to the floor as you stare in shock at the office before you.

You pull out your wallet inside your bag and fumble inside until you find one janky card in particular. You yank it out, holding the card to the company sign. As you suspected, the card’s company name is the same as the logo on the office door. 

How could Spirits and Such Consultation be here, not just in the same district, but within a few blocks away from your work without you noticing? You will admit this is the first time since you have been to this side of the area, getting coffee with your friends after work on the floor above, but has it been so far away from your typical commute that you would’ve just discovered it?

You find yourself standing face to face with the entrance, hand hovering over the wooden door with a closed fist. Before questioning if you should be doing this, you instinctively knock on the door with little confidence. 

You don’t hear anything on the other side for a moment. Glancing at your watch, you read 6:49 pm, past regular office hours. Man, what the hell am I doing? You feel rather stupid for even coming to the office; it’s way too late in the day for someone to answer, much less-

While deep in thought, a young boy who has cracked open the door before you snaps you into reality. He stared back at you with relatively calm, kind eyes, dressed in a middle school uniform with a prominent bowl cut.

“Hello, did you have an appointment with us?” The boy gently asked, looking up with a soft smile through the cracked doorway. 

“Oh, ah-no. Sorry, I don’t. I wasn’t planning on… well, it is a little late; maybe I’ll come by another time.” You rub the back of your head and give him a convincing smile as you talk. As you are about to thank him and leave, you hear a voice from inside.

“It’s okay, Mob. You can let them in. I have time today for one more person.” It’s that familiar voice you weren’t hoping to hear now. Your stomach flutters as you realize who you’re about to walk in on.

“Okay,” The boy, now known as Mob, replies to the voice. He turns to you, “Come in, miss. Master Reigen can see you now. Please sit down, and I can make some tea,” He fully opens the door and gestures for you to enter. Without much choice, you kindly nod to the boy and step in. 

You freeze as you see Reigen from across the room. He is at his desk looking intently at his computer, one takoyaki between his greasy, sauce-covered fingers as one slightly peeks out of his mouth. He clicks his mouse and snarfs down the food in his mouth before speaking.

“We are typically closed at this time, but I’m glad to stay later for a new client! So, what can I do for you today, Miss- ah!” As soon as he meets eyes with you, he squeaks in surprise and slightly jumps in his seat with eyes agape. His startled demeanor caused the takoyaki in his hand to splat onto the desk and some crumbs to dribble out of his mouth. He shows no signs of hiding it as he stares at you in shock, squeaking your name as if to prove you're there. It gives you the same vibes as a rodent caught in the act of stealing food. Like a rat. What a coincidence.

“Long time, Mr. Psychic.” You quip, hands clasped. 

Reigen doesn’t respond, only to close his mouth and stare at you. You squirm under his gaze without words before the middle schooler pipes up. 

“Master, do you know this person?”

“Ah! Mob, yes, yes. I do,” He quickly stands up and stuffs his takoyaki in his desk at lightning-fast speed, brushing any crumbs off of that exact grey suit you’ve seen him in before. That desk has seen better days, You think. He scrambles to turn towards you, finally cleaning up his act for that all-too-familiar suave businessman.  “Hello there, what brought you to Spirits and Such Consultation today?” He clasps his hands together and looks at you professionally. Still, the way he swivels around his chair tells you he’s more affected by seeing you than he’s letting on. 

Heh, what a change of character. “I was around the area and saw your building. I guess I wanted to say hi?” 

“Oh, I see. Well, this is clearly a surprise. It is nice to see you… To be honest, I didn’t ever expect you to visit.” His sentence ends with a tinge of sadness. 

“Is that so?” You quip. You are unsure how you want to keep this conversation rolling. You let it go for now and shrug off the comment, “Me neither, honestly.”

There is an awkward silence, one you want to break desperately but can’t find the words to do so, secretly wanting something to change the palpable air. 

“Well, let me make some tea,” Mob says, almost on cue, making his way to the kettle. Reigen quickly pipes up, stopping Mob in his tracks.

He gestures at the time on the clock overhead. “Wait, Mob, it’s late. You should get on home. I’ll-uh, handle this client on my own.” Reigen gestures a subtle ‘shoo’ motion at Mob with a grin and furrowed brow.

“Master, what about my pay for this week?” Mob asks. Reigen quickly responds, brushing aside Mob’s request.

“You can get it tomorrow! Tomorrow, for sure, just not now.”

Mob pauses, looking at Reigen with a somewhat disappointed expression. “But you said the same thing yesterday. Is there a reason why?”

“Hey now, I’ll make it up with ramen next time. I promise!” He waves his hand back and forth, brushing off the notion that he shouldn’t need to pay what you assume to be an employee of his, albeit a young one. You squint your eyes at him. Is he… standing up a kid from his wage?

“Oh… okay,” Mob softly replies, his look of defeat tugs a heartstring in you. Turning towards you, he bows and smiles, “Have a good day, miss.” With that, Mob briefly makes his way out after getting his book bag, shutting the door behind him. The clasp of the door handles rings in the air, leaving you alone with Reigen in his office. 

You immediately turn towards Reigen, raising your eyebrow in confusion. Why does a kid like Mob, who seems so kind and innocent, find himself potentially working under a greaseball that won't pay him? From your point of view, he seems too polite to be working for the shady-looking company. 

“Uh, well,” Reigen clears the stagnant air, “Would you care to sit? Over there, I mean.” He gets up from his desk, ushering you to the comfy-looking chairs at the corner of the room.

You cross your arms as you reluctantly oblige, sitting at one chair as he slowly sits down on the other. You should’ve taken your time sitting down as slowly as he has; the not-so-sudden impact of sitting hurts your tailbone because of how stiff the cushioned chair is. You rub your backside.

“You’re many things, Reigen, but I didn’t think you would flake your workers out of a wage.” You say.

He looked taken back by your words, holding a hand up to his chest as he gawked in offense. “Hey, Mob is a good kid! He understands that desperate times can call for desperate measures.” He chuckles unconvincingly, shifting his feet, which sinks your gaze onto the table. 

“This is a desperate time? You really don’t seem swarmed with customers right now.” 

There is a glossy laminate paper planted alone on the circular foot table. The once-colored article seems faded after years of use, and the different paragraphs of text detail what you assume are his standard services.  The plywood table between you, too, could dent if you kick it with your leg. You wonder if this furniture is second-hand or if Reigen went out of his way to buy the most unpleasant things just to save a buck. You’re in the mood to thoroughly unsettle him now, having clearly examined his office before him. Like clockwork, a slight clamminess forms on Reigen’s forehead before he replies.

“You might not believe it, but this office contained an entire baseball team asking for my help right before you arrived! They claimed a spirit was haunting their equipment, causing their scores to tank halfway through the season! That’s why Mob and I have stuck around the office after hours. Extra paperwork started to pile up throughout the day that wasn’t addressed until the end of our consultation. Of course, a case like that was easily handled by this century’s most excellent psychic.” Reigen ends his little charade and speech, looking quite proud of himself. 

You shake it off, changing the topic. “Speaking of Mob, why do you have such a nice kid working for you? I believe there are more suitable people in Seasoning City that can help you with whatever this is,” you gesture more to the cheap furniture than the actual services. Still, Reigen overlooks that–actually, he doesn’t notice. 

“Ah yes, that was my disciple, Mob. The one I told you about that, uh, night?” Reigen unconvincingly remarks. You shift in your seat and blink wildly at the mention of that word again. 

Disciple.

You shift around in your chair under his gaze, crossing your legs and arms. “Oh wow. I guess I must’ve really misunderstood the situation that night.” Reigen looks at you in confusion. You explain yourself further, “I was under the assumption that I was just some quick bang for you. I initially called bullshit on your disciple story you used as an excuse to leave right after we… well, and I have thought that way since now. To be frank, that’s the reason why I never called back. I'm sorry about that.”

Reigen listened to you intently, nodding along, obviously processing your side of the story. When you finish, he sighs and waves his hand around. “No, no need to say sorry. In fact, I should apologize to you. I did need to leave on such short notice, but I didn’t tell you until the last minute, which made things feel off when I left. The morning of, I had to look after the kid on his school’s sports day. But I figured, from your point of view, it was pretty pathetic. Look, I can make it up to you right now, in fact! If you don’t mind me taking up your time, that is?”

“I find that hard to believe you can make it up to me considering my first impressions of your treatment of employees, as well as this cheap-ass furniture.”

“Okay, harsh.” Reigen clears his throat. “I swear! I’m dedicated to making this right. I can name a price, too!”

“Price? What are you leading onto, psychic?”

“I can serve up one of my world-class massage- ahem, curse dispelling services! It completely rids the body of all the pain that nasty spirits can cause.”

“Curse dispelling? That sounds interesting, but I don’t believe anything is haunting me,” You don’t think anything can haunt someone, to be honest. 

“You’d be surprised how many people get plagued with these violent spirits. I tell you, if I wasn’t here serving the people, it would’ve become the #1 epidemic in Japan!” He leans forward and grabs your arm, gently rocking it back and forth to your confusion. He pauses,  “Hmm, I see. You’re lucky. The hold it has on you is gentle but can worsen at any moment! Have no fear. I can discount this curse dispelling for… about 50% off if you’d like.” He kicks his feet up on the table, albeit very gently, clearly proud of his overly kind discount.

You look into his eyes. “Reigen.” You started. “Not just 50% for the shit you pulled. It’ll take a lot more than that to forgive you. Especially if I think this quality of service isn't worth the money considering the cheap yard sale finds.” You motion to your chair, shaking back and forth, only to reveal to both of you that the legs wobble too hard.

“Jeez, fine! It’s on the house. Besides, I owe you one, so consider my debt officially relieved?” Reigen winced at your stoic gaze, trying to do as much damage control as needed to solve this issue.

You sigh, really wondering if this is a good idea. You sigh in defeat, “I’ll bite. This better be worth it after all the buttering up you’ve been doing on this.”

He smirks at you and leans forward, “Of course it will! After all, I am the greatest psychic this century has ever seen. You won’t regret it; we can set you all up inside the curse-dispelling sanctuary now.”

Sanctuary?

He leads you to a door by the desk at the corner of the small office you didn’t notice until now. Even looking inside after Reigen opens the door for you, you can scarcely see the amount of space there is.

It's a tiny room, tinier than you would think. A shiny leather massage table is in the middle—if you can even assign areas to such a little room. There are small wall shelves and large clothed drawers with different incense burners, oils, and other massage tools.

With all this stuff, you can guess that Reigen cannot move freely while he works on clients.

You gesture to the confines. “This is literally a room the size of my closet. What do you expect to do here? 

“Y’know, that’s a little rude. You don’t know, but spirits are typically scared of tiny rooms. Really, there just isn’t enough room to breathe for the guys! It helps get rid of them faster and ease my clients’ pain more quickly.

“Spirits can… breathe?”

He looks at you attentively, snapping his hands around a few times before conjuring up his remark. “Hah! Well, I suppose I could get into it, but I don’t want to hinder you with my vast knowledge of the inner workings of spirits. Why don’t we get started instead, yeah?” He fidgets around for the items he needs and turns around. “Well then, I will need you to get undressed for me. Okay?”

“Oh, sure thing.” A shiver runs down your spine as you turn to look at him. You can tell in his eyes he just means undressing for the massage, but you would be lying if you said your face didn’t feel warm for the possible double meaning. 

“If you can undress once I leave the sanctuary and put these towels on the regions you are comfortable covering, we can start with the first part of the ritual.”

Before you can say anything, he quickly skips outside the room and closes the door. 

Upon closer inspection, the clothed drawers are filing cabinets with tablecloths hung over them. You can tell they are filing cabinets due to the metal handles of each drawer clearly poking out from the thin cloth. Regardless, they are way too tall to be regular furniture. What a relaxing choice. 

The towels he gave you are scratchy and cheap feeling. Reigen’s clients are put through the wringer. 

You position yourself on the massage table face down, waiting for Reigen to enter. After a few moments, you hear a gentle knock on the door.

“Oi, I’m coming in. You decent?” You invite him in, and he slowly opens the door. Although you can’t see him, you notice the slight pause in the creak of the door when he sets his eyes on your naked body. 

“Did you… forget I gave you towels?” 

“I did immediately after feeling them. You should get better ones.”

“Noted.”

He fully steps in and shuts the door swiftly, briefly shuffling around the room and opening drawers around you.

With that, Reigen begins his ‘ritual,’ dosing the room in bright, lovely scents of incense and methodically lighting some candles around the room on drawers and shelves. The LED lights above you dim, but the candles adorning the room's edges and shelves keep it light enough to see. It’s almost romantic with how he’s set it up—is what you’re enticed to say if it wasn’t Reigen.

He begins the first step, what he calls prepping the skin. He reaches into a small box filled with freshly steamed washcloths and takes a few off the top row. Coming to your side, he gently rings out the cloth. He unfolds it before placing the washcloth on your skin, which he explains will free your skin of dirt or grime before continuing. The warmth of the steamed towel against you feels comforting; even the quality of the washcloth is better than the other ones. 

“While I do this, are there any particular muscle groups that tend to bother you throughout the day?”

“Yeah, my shoulders and hamstrings are typically the most sore. Pretty much on the daily. It's annoying.”

“Say no more. I have just the thing.”

He walks to the other side of the room outside your vision, and you hear shifts of different fabrics. You wonder what he’s up to but are positive you'll find out soon enough. He comes back to your side. 

“This will be hot, just to warn you. I will put these on the areas you said you struggle with most.

When you consent, you feel thick, hot pads press against both shoulders, followed by some weighted hot pads on the back of your legs right under your butt. The sensation is dazzling. 

“Ahhhh…” You sigh in pleasure at the sensation.

“Heh, feels nice, right?

“Yes.” You languidly sigh. You let your approval linger out of your mouth as you completely relax on the table. You can feel the aching soreness of your legs and shoulders slowly melt away from the pads. 

The washcloths and hot pads are removed from your skin, leaving your body feeling chilled from the air yet relaxed enough not to care. 

You hear the sounds of oily fluid as Reigen gently rocks a bottle of oil in his hand. It's the perfect temperature when you feel a liberal line of oil pour down your back and legs. Reigen puts the bottle down and spreads the amount evenly down the skin. He moves to your legs next, gently applying the liquid from the skin right under your ass to the hinge of your leg. 

Then, Reigen begins his massage. His hands connect to your shoulders as he starts to work his magic. 

His hands palm into your shoulders, rubbing with varying levels of force to slowly break down the tension that has built over the years.  He starts with a slow pace that gently travels down each muscle of your back and up. From the shoulders to the laterals, to the spine, the fatigue of each knot looses up.

“Man, you should do this to my whole body.”

“Woah, now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. This is a free service, after all. I’m concentrating on the most cursed parts today.”

He leads into a staccato of firm tapping next, traveling up and down the length of your back with vigor. He uses the sides of his hands in a hacking motion in rapid percussion. Your body gently shakes to and fro from the technique.

From there, he focuses on specific muscles again with his thumbs applying the pressure. On each area, he rubs both sides with his thumbs in a sweeping motion, bringing the skin together vertically before firmly spreading them out. You groan into each touch.

You can now fully say you know what those hands do. They do wonders. 

More than that, though. You begin to wonder about other places Reigen could massage. 

Almost on queue, the psychic’s hands then travel to the fat of your thighs, gently kneading them from the hinge to the hamstring, catering your lower body muscles to a personalized experience. Reigen’s thumbs travel right under the fat of your ass to massage before pausing. 

“Oh, man. Your pectineus muscles are really tight. No wonder your thighs ache—I mean, the spirits have really been eating you up!”

“Is that what it is?”

“Really, though, this needs to be addressed.”

He begins doing the same steps he did with your back muscles to the precise spots he needs to loosen right under your ass. Just as in the last areas, the tension release of your muscles feels phenomenal. The hot pads have already relieved enough, but his hand movements solidify that you’ll walk away feeling pure refreshment. 

His hands start moving outside your pectineus muscles now until he finds one specific spot he cannot ignore. 

“Hold on. Your adductors are worse than the rest! What did you even do to make them this bad?”

“Well, I do have a desk job.”

Reigen turns on his heel and walks over to your face, squatting down and matching your eye level.

“This is unheard of at Spirits and Such. You have the worst kind of spirit affecting you!” He starts waving hand motions faster than Mach-5, stopping with his pointer finger lifted toward you. “You have an adductor spirit.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard today!”

“Hey, now! This subject is serious and certainly must be treated. Don’t worry. As a psychic, I can rid you of any spirits for good until you need to come back for more, which includes a 20% discount!”

“Yeah, yeah. I getcha. Do what you need to.”

“With pleasure,” He promptly stands back up. He turned back to his target before meekly placing his hand back on the inside of your thigh. 

“To complete this procedure… I need you to spread your legs for me.”

“Oh, okay.” Heat fills your face, but you do your best not to outwardly express how his words got to you. Slowly, you do what you’re told.

Without a beat, he leans forward to massage your inner thigh, dragging his fingers from the area down to your knee before lifting his fingers and repeating the process. He begins his massage technique with his thumbs to add more pressure, dragging downward to reach the skin behind your knee. 

He slowly drags your skin one more time before stopping, gently putting his thumbs back on the muscle instead moving upwards to your butt. More importantly, your now aching cunt. 

You squeak a little when you feel his direction change, overcome with embarrassment when Reigen's hands are slightly taken aback by your noise. 

“Are you okay?” He says, leaning over to peer at your covered face.

The surprise of his movements was alluring to you that you didn’t feel right to keep your thoughts in anymore. 

You just need him.

“Please, put your mouth on it.” You whisper to him.

There is silence in the air, the thought of what will come dancing in your head like a never-ending routine. He removes his hands from your skin.

“This is a massage, remember? Why would I use my mouth… if massages require hands?” 

You get up and fully face Reigen, who looks back at you bewildered and mere inches away. You genuinely couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. There is no fucking way he would be serious, right? 

Something clicks, however. “Holy shit.” You think out loud, putting the pieces together.

You turn your head to him, mouth agape, staring at this blonde-haired rat. You see it now: Reigen has been in work mode this whole time. He tilts his head in confusion and leans forward. “What’s up? Is there something you want to tell me?”

“I cannot believe you… you know what?”

“What?”

Instead of using words to tell him what you mean, you sit up, reach for his tie, and pull him towards you. His lips crash against yours. His eyes stay wide open momentarily as he registers what is happening before swiftly returning the kiss. 

It’s heavy and hot from your end. You muster all the courage to not rip his clothes off now. Still, you refrain, eventually letting his tie go and pulling away, “You understand now, right?” You ask in slight annoyance, feeling a little embarrassed at your behavior. Your blatant skin exposure right in front of Reigen certainly is not helping. 

The dots begin to connect as Reigen further peers onto your shocked face, his demeanor suddenly freezing as he suddenly releases his hand from your skin and opens his mouth in a perfect O. Stunned, his eyes widen in surprise as he processes what just happened–and what it means . Reigen breaks into a teasing smile, his surprise quickly turning into amusement.

"Well, that's certainly a way to make a point."

He looks down at your naked body, realizing who is before him and where he has seen this body before. More importantly, how your body made him feel before. How the supple skin felt in his hands touched the same as before. How you fit into him that night. The angelic sounds and things you whispered to him on that night. As his mind wanders, the blood used to power his ever-working thoughts travels straight to his pants. His face contorted in lust, breaking the pause he inevitably created.

"Is this your new negotiation tactic? Because I have to admit, it's effective. But it would’ve been as good if you had told me.” Reigen glistens.

“Have we been in the same room all this time? I literally told you to put your mouth on me. What could be more obvious?” 

He puts his hand on his chin and thinks for a moment. “Touche.” He admits. “But hey, it’s not you or anything! Honestly, I think you’re the one person to snap me out of it like this…”

“What, your work mode?”

“Exactly.” He agrees. He pauses, slowly amping the atmosphere with solid gazes across your figure. “You really know how to bring out the naughty side of me, don’t you?” 

Your cheeks flush as they meet Reigen's gaze, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness as he slowly glides his fingers up and down your skin. With a glint of mischief, you reply, "And you have no idea how much I enjoy seeing that side of you. I’m sure not many have seen it.”

Reigen scoffs at the fact you insinuate that he gets no maidens. “Why don’t we continue?” Reigen asks, leaning into your ear and whispering, “Can I-” Reigen pauses momentarily to clear his throat after a slight voice crack. Music to your ears. “Can I touch you?” He asks.

“Um, you’ve been touching me.”

“Well, you know what I mean!” Reigen huffs, waving his hands around, trying to brush your teases off.

You roll your eyes playfully, inviting the man before you, “Yes, Reigen, of course you can touch me.” You find his need to ask for permission endearing, especially since you know that anything he could ask of you, you’d probably do. You look back at him when you realize the slight embarrassment on his face as he looks back at you with a pursed lip. 

“It’s cute when you get annoyed.” You comment, only making him shake his head and turn away. He sighs in an overdramatic fashion and collects himself. Only a blush and smug attitude is left. 

The massage continues again, this time with a more seductive tension in the air, as well as a focused massage to your buttocks and thighs. You sigh in delight, feeling your pleasure form differently.

“You are way too good at this.” You say as softly as your throat can coax out.

“And you…” He sighs, “You sound beautiful,” He glides his hand up to your inner thigh, “You know that?”

You blush, completely hiding your face in your arms, ignoring his comment. 

“Oh? Did you not hear me?” He says.

“You’re too… ah!” Your back arches up from the contact of his hand smacking your ass. You bite your lip and squirm your legs as you whine in protest.

“Dunno if you heard it the first time, but you look amazing. I’ve always thought that, y’know,” He blows out another long-paced sigh. “The good thing is I don’t have to imagine you again; after all, you’re right here, ready for me, huh?” His fingers sweep up your pussylips, earning a moan from you in response. 

“Stop buttering me up when you know I’m already…”

“Already, what? Hmmm?” 

“I need you, Reigen.” 

You look up at him to see he’s looking down at you with a smirk. “Say no more.” He whispers with a teasing grin. Reigen already knew what you’d say from the start.

“I won’t if you keep up that attitude, idiot.”

“Tough talk for someone naked and vulnerable.” He delivers you another light slap, causing your feet to kick up. Reigen stifles a laugh. 

He leans over your frame. Slowly soaking up the sight before him. He leans down to your ear, slow enough to keep your mind spinning, and sighs onto the skin of your nape.

“Y’know, you’re pretty relentless.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that, psychic?”

“See, I’m trying to be all sexy AND consensual, and you just don’t give.” Reigen smacks your ass when he says this, earning a guttural gasp out of you.  “I mean, what can a fella do to get some respect around here?”

“I think fucking me can be a good start.”

“After all I’ve done for you? You might have to ask me nicely if you want me to consider it.” Reigen's voice tilts in a taunting tone, almost egging you on.

Your pride wants to keep you from giving him what he wants. But you really like him, and there’s something else in mind that could keep the ball rolling while wiping that demeaning smirk off his face.

You spring into action, leaping off the table and kneeling before a now-surprised Reigen. You are met with a prominent bulge in his pants. You feel him tense up as he steps back, pushing him from the table to the wall. Suddenly, you palm his erection to earn an ethereal groan from the blonde. 

“You treated me with head last time. Why don’t I return the favor now?”

 “I mean, I’m not complaining.” Reigen tries to collect himself, rolling his eyes with a faux smile that screams, ‘I’m too cool to be this worked up over you.’ He shrugs, giving in to your wishes.

Immediately, his suave words devolve into periodic sighs as you slowly work on freeing his erection. You shimmy him out of his belt and suit pants and pull down his boxers enough for his dick to jump out and land on your forehead. Reigen snorts and covers his mouth. 

“How’s the view, princess?”

“Just fine, actually, thank you.” Be it pride or annoyance at rat boy, you immediately stuff his cock into the gummy confines of your throat. 

Reigen huffs into his mouth, trying to play it off as a yawn but quickly realizing both of you know what it is.

You bob up and down his dick, using your tongue and the roof of your mouth to create divine pressure on the shaft as you suck hard at the end before jamming the rest back in your mouth.

“Wow. You look really good doing that.” Reigen has a dark blush dusted on his face as he covers his mouth. You look up at him and plunge himself deeper down your throat, eyes seductive. 

You take your hand that doesn’t aid in pumping Reigen's member and start to caress his balls. His hands jerk around from this, immediately resting a hand on your head to play with your hair and guide your pace. 

His hand is gentle, but you can tell he’s holding back the pressure he wants. You slide his head out of your mouth, creating a delicious pop from its exit. 

Before you can say anything, he pipes up, “Shit, I overstepped. I don’t have to move your head if you don’t want me to.”

Your face heats up from the words of a gentleman despite wishing for the complete opposite.

“Actually, I wanted you to do more. You don’t have to hold back. I like it.”

Reigen blinks at you, barely believing your words. He feels like he’s lucked out on you. “Man. Well, if you say so.” 

He grabs a handful of your hair and guides you back to the post you desperately crave. 

His grip on you has you moaning into the touch, a perk that he cannot deny he likes. You want more now, and you can’t back down.

You ready yourself for his member before quickly stuffing your throat once more. You feel the hard tip protruding into the depths of your throat, trying not to gag at the sheer length in fear this is the best way to take him. Slowly, you accept the last couple inches of him in your mouth until your nose is scrunched up to his stomach, kissing the hint of a happy trail. 

You bob back up all the way just until Reigens cock is about to fall from your mouth until you stuff it all again, relaxing your throat as best you can to retake him.

Then again, and again, and again. 

You develop a steady pace of gulping Reigen’s entire shaft until you feel a second hand, this time reluctantly pumping the brakes on your relentless pace. You look up at the man before you in an almost innocent confusion.

“Those eyes, I can’t take you anymore.” He groans into your touch moments before gently pulling your hair to release himself from your mouth.

“I can close them then.” You say, closing your eyes without a beat and a smile.

“No-hah, I’m gonna need a time-out. You are way too good at that. I don’t want to tap out early for you.” He dramatically sinks to the floor with the wobble of his knees and lowers himself to your level with both hands on your shoulders. He leans on you, catching his breath and sweating freely. You swipe some off of his forehead.

“I’m game for either. As long as I can repay the care you used on me.” To stop him from answering your rather heartfelt sentiment, you lean him back up to kiss him. His tongue swirls with yours, indirectly tasting himself.

After catching his breath, he breaks the kiss, leans forward to meet your height, and whispers in your ear, “If you don’t mind, why not bend over this time? There's a pretty sturdy massage table behind you, in case you didn't notice.” 

“Wow, I’m somehow surprised it’s sturdy. The other furniture in this place seems to be deteriorating on the spot.”

His mouth forms an irritated smirk for the comment. “Are you trying to stop me from fucking you or not? Seems like a no to me right now with that attitude.”

You ignore his comment, knocking on the legs of the massage table. “Yeah, it probably wouldn’t break it, to be honest. Seems like real wood under here.”

“Shit, I got some wood now.” You turn to Reigen, discovering the now aching cock. “I wonder who will give first.”

”And the man has jokes. Bad ones at that.”

He looks up to see the cringe you have on your face. He sighs, “Jeez, tough crowd.”

“Even tougher to leave you hanging.” You touch his erect penis, now trembling with the stimulation from earlier and beads of precum. You lean into him, “Why don’t we change that?” 

You pump him a few times, to his relief, before separating and bringing him back to the table. He taps your hips and bows, hand gesturing towards the table. “After you, then.”

You reach the table, feeling a flat hand on your back as Reigen helps you bend over, revealing your damp pussy to him that glistens from the candlelight. He leans into your hips, curling his fingers into the curve of your pelvic bone, rubbing his thumbs against the soft skin, and readying himself for an entrance. 

“Can I?” Reigen whispers in your ear.

”Yes. Please, Reigen.” 

“I know it will fit already,” He uses his fingers to swipe up and down your slit painfully slow, collecting some of the wetness of your cunt before spitting in his hand and pumping the liquids on himself. He taps himself on the small of your back as if knocking at an entrance before opening it.  “I’m just surprised that it can in the first place.”

“Cut me some slack. I’m not that fragile.”

“Of course not. Just,” Reigen applies pressure to the head of his cock to your entrance. “You’re fucking tight.”

Instantly, your entrance succumbs to the pressure, welcoming his tip inside and enveloping him. You sigh together in harmony as he slowly inches into you,  stretching yourself out to perfectly accommodate him.

You arch yourself into him from the mouthwatering sensations before you feel his hand once more press onto your back and guide you back onto the table.

“I thought we wanted you to bend over.” His finger taps on the skin of your back, playfully reminding you to say still for him.

“That’s hard to do when you, hahhh,” He slides more of his cock inside of you, which you can’t help but whimper from.

“Hah, shit. And still so good. All for me?”

“Of course… just take it already.” The words sound embarrassing coming out of your mouth, your face growing hot as the words emerge from your lips. Reigen seems to notice this and kisses you for validation. For potential psychic he can really read the room like one.

“Don’t mind if I do.” He says with a strained voice and cheeky grin. No matter how much he tries to feign a laid-back attitude in front of you, you can quickly tell Reigen Arataka is going crazy for your pussy. 

“I’ve waited for this, after all.” Reigen adds, kissing down your back before moving again.

You moan in response as he slowly rocks his hips into you, fully stretching every crevice he can touch. 

The table is sturdy under you, your tits and stomach pressed firmly against the leather that cements you to the position, unable to move and only able to take his cock entirely. 

He pushes into you to a hilt, not a moment until he begins his slow descent out. The blissful pain of him filling you up is taken away as he pulls back out, only having you beg for more of his touch. You don’t vocalize it, however, as the emptiness of him pulling out is suddenly replaced with him sliding back in. You can’t help but bend over entirely over the table. The way you’re positioned, your toes are barely touching the floor.

He begins a steady pace of rocking back and forth, grabbing onto your hips for constant support. 

“The view is great, by the way.” Reigen gives a sigh that defines long and sensual, using his thumb to lightly brush the thickness of your ass. 

“Shut up. Hah.” You can’t help but whine as he steadily rocks deeper into your cunt.

“No way,” He whistles, “Not when you’re under me like this.”

His pace quickens, causing your ass to arch into him; gradually, the sensual air is replaced with hot noises and pants from both of you. 

From you, the never-ending symphony of stifled moans and sighs and the melody of his name exiting your tongue. With the roll of his hips that hit just right, it’s enough to steal curses from your mouth as you try to keep your voice down.

From him, the sweat drops dripping off his forehead and landing not so gracefully onto you, the sound of his hands gripping the oiled skin of your hips, sometimes slipping away from the lack of friction, making squelching sounds from your oil and his sweat. He is so thankful that your back is already so oily from the massage that you haven’t noticed his sweaty palms.

Nothing between you two, however, is louder than the melding of your sexes dripping together and making as one, creating that oh-so-delicious feeling both of you chase. It comes and flows like a glorious tidal wave that you ride together. Helping each other reach that point is the goal now. 

You feel yourself teeter over the edge, moaning now past a limit you can’t control. You let yourself go, now being louder than before.

“That feels so good. Fuck!”

His hands reach out from behind you and clamp over your mouth, trying to quiet you down, accidentally burying his cock even more, causing you to scream in his grasp. 

“Jeez, you’re loud!” Reigen says between huffs. “Hah, you’re gonna let all my office neighbors know what we’re doing. Shit.” 

Suddenly, his nails rake down your back as he rams into you in deep strokes, the sensations causing your pussy to grip and create heinous squelching sounds that connect your sexes together. 

“Please,” You slur helplessly, “Please do that again–ngh. That feels so fucking good.”

“What a dirty girl. Only if you quiet down.”

“I will, please. Mm, please.”

A relentless hand snakes to the nape of your neck as nails latch on, slowly and painfully descending down your glistening skin. You can’t help but moan at the pleasure that the pain brings you. 

It makes you crave more of him that it’s unbearable. You need more.

“Hold on.” 

You gently loosen yourself from his grasp, turning from your belly to your side as he pulls out. You see his face. His face looks angelic, sweat glistening under the candlelight and hair sticking to his forehead. 

“I want to see your face… please.”

“That makes two of us.” Reigen replies.

He dives onto your chest, slowly kissing and sucking on the skin between your tits before darting to your nipples.

Your hand reaches for his golden hair, the pads of your fingers grazing his scalp as you grab a bundle of his hair. He moans your name out loud as he tastes your skin. 

“Shit, Reigen.”

He lifts up his head, mouth wet from his escapade. You reach out to him and wipe the corner of his lips. His tongue runs over his teeth as it forms into a smile.

His hand lifts up to cup your face as he hastily travels his lips to yours, immediately engaging in a wet, hot kiss. 

You feel him line up to your entrance again, pushing in with enough force to stop your mouth from dancing against Reigen��s. The sensation of being filled up once more, as Reigen’s sensation of being inside of you, causes a shared sigh of pleasure you exchange as your foreheads touch together. 

“I want to try something.” Reigen reaches for your leg closest to him and puts it over his shoulder.

“Hah! Do you want to stretch me out more?

He shrugs with a smile. “It’s only natural. It’s what I do.”

“Yeah? I thought it was ‘curse dispelling’?” 

He blows a raspberry at you, brushing your hair away from your glistened forehead. “Potato, potahto. It’ll help your hamstrings, probably. Is that okay?”

Of course it is. You express you consent once again.

Your eyes flutter shut as he begins pumping in and out of you again. You whip your head back against the table now, the indescribable stretch of your leg now letting him pump into you deeper. You bite your lip at the sensation that makes you feel so delirious. 

You lift you head to look up at him when you feel more in control of yourself. That’s when you catch a beautiful sight.

His chin is tucked into his chest as his gaze is fixated on your sexes, almost salivating at the scene before him. Reigen’s eyes are so hypnotized by the scene before him that it barely feels real. His huffs vibrate onto your clit, and you twitch forward to him when he gets a demonic idea. 

One hand grips your pelvis while the other snakes up to start playing with your clit. Reigen’s thumb rubs you in gentle circles that devolve into firm brushes. You gasp and start squirming, feeling you reach your limit. You can’t contain it anymore, not with that gaze Reigen holds on your pussy, and certainly not with his stimulation on your clit. 

“Arataka, please.” You let out a lustful noise that fills the small room. 

The call of his name snaps him out of his stupor, connecting his gaze to yours.

He sees your brows knitting together, saliva escaping your mouth from pure pleasure, the culmination of the oil and heat of you two in such a tiny room that starts to stick on your sweet skin. The tears prick the watery ducts of your eyes that look back at you…

And you call his name once more. 

Arataka…

It’s almost a whisper as you try to hold back your voice from reaching outside the office. But you accomplished your need to have his focus. The gaze you share with Reigen tells him your needs, your wants. The need to cum, and the want to have it now.

Just like you, he can’t take it anymore to hold back these needs. He needs to be closer to you. 

His hand reaches your neck, lightly holding it as he connects your lips in a needy kiss. You can’t contain yourself any longer now, especially from him leaning forward to kiss you, leg still propped on his shoulder as his cock hammered into you. You can’t help but moan louder.

The pulse of your pussy clamping down on him is more apparent than ever and has his head dizzying. His grip on reality weakens. “Keep it down– fuck. ” Reigen groans into your mouth. 

You kiss him back in response. Tongues connect just to disconnect and repeat in cycles. You grab onto his wrist, still holding your neck as you coil into a new wave of pleasure. All you can do is take everything Reigen gives you and keep your volume to a minimum.

But how could you? When Reigen kisses you like this and holds you so sensually, even if his dick feeds into you like a monster, he is so purposeful with each movement. So caring yet confident, so needy, as are you. You pant and stifle yourself, but barely to any avail. Anyone within the hall outside of the rooms—maybe even the floors above and below—has caught wind at this point from the music you have made. Reigen has learned this too with time.

As you thought, it’s over for him now; the last breach of rules he wants to enforce breaks his inhibitions as his orgasm starts to creep up. Immediately, he removes his hand from your body, locking his hands against the table and rutting into your bent figure further. 

“Shit. I don’t care at this point. I need you.” He whispers in your ear so close you arch your ass, opening your pussy to be drilled in deeper. His pants in your ear dampened the skin around it, earning another heavenly, albeit louder, moan out of you. 

“Please, don’t say those things–I can’t,” You moan and throw your head back onto the table. “I can’t hold back anymore.”

Slap!

Your pleas are met with a sharp hand on your ass, causing you to squirm around his cock in pleasure. His pace is ruthless now, and you grip your hands on the edge of the table he’s religiously fusing into you. 

“Don’t hold it back anymore. I don’t care who hears now.” He leans into you again. “Make them know how you feel.” Slap! “Let them know how I’m making you feel.”

This pressure is too much to not start your build-up on. 

Reigen takes your ankle and pushes it up hard . It causes him to excel past areas he hasn't reached yet, pounding onto your cervix. You tense up from the overwhelming stimulation that comes from each pump. 

“Reigen, I’m-I’m gonna-”

“Yeah, haaah. Me too.” 

He crouches over you, gripping your flesh harder than ever as he rams into you faster, rolling every shape he can think over your clit, causing you to clamp onto him more and build both of you up. 

You sputter words and moans as your core starts to wind up in white-hot pleasure. 

You both stare into each other’s eyes, faces contorted in pleasure, until you know it’s time.

You throw your head back as if you wanted to completely rearrange the placement of your spine. You scream out as if you were in agony, only for you to feel complete overwhelming pleasure course throughout your body in never-ending waves until your scream forms into one of complete silence. Your voice is lost from you, yet you continue to latch onto Reigen and dig your nails into him as you shake uncontrollably.

He pulls out of you in swift force and cums onto your stomach, giving one last groan as he milks every bit out. You continue to jitter under him from his length, exiting you along with the after-effects of your orgasm. You join his groans as the sensation of his hot cum covers your stomach.

You see his disheveled hair sticking into his sweat-covered face as his chest heaves out and in to collect himself. He looks back at you with a tired expression, very relieved of his release, and you are with yours. He leans forward and grabs your face for a passionate kiss. You fully turn towards him to deepen it.

“That whole massage session was for nothing. I know I’m gonna wake up sore from you tomorrow.” You wince, trying to straighten your back out, being met with the pain. 

“Shoot, I can fix you up tomorrow if you want.” 

Before you ask what he’s implying, you start sliding off the table before he stops you.

“Wait a minute. I gotta clean you up first before anything else!” He perks up and turns toward the door.

You giggle at the kind gesture. Reigen maneuvers out of the room, holding out his cum-covered hand to not touch anything, and uses his elbow to push down the handle and slip out. 

He returns with a towel, clean hands, and a new item carded between his middle and pointer. “By the way, I think we should be more acquainted now that we’ve sorted that whole mess out earlier.”

You take the card while he wipes you down, seeing the digits written on the paper, and look at him with a flirtatious smirk and blush across your face.

“Are you always this brazen with people close to you?”

“You can either take it or leave it.” He huffs, “It comes with the territory.” He gestures to himself after annunciating territory.

“Somehow, I am fine with that.” You playfully respond. Lightly thumbing the card's end, you subconsciously try to memorize the phone number Reigen gave you. You lift your head to look back at him.

“That means I can get some more curse-dispelling services of yours for free, right?”

Reigen studies your face. You look back at him with a genuine smile. Those amber eyes continue to captivate him. He lifts a brow and looks you up and down.

“Depends. Are you feeling cursed again at this very moment?”

“Wow, on second thought, I might be feeling exactly that.” You start to fan yourself as if suffering instant heat exhaustion. “Gosh, Reigen. You may have to help me against this massage table one more time.”

“With pleasure, pretty girl.”

The card and towel are swiftly tossed to the side as you collide again, certainly with the remembrance that this will be the first time together of the many to come. 

---------

ao3 | tiktok | kofi | masterlist

[3minsover]

late night:early start

City commuter Steve has to get the first train at 5:30am, already suited and preened for the day even at the early hour. He ends up in the same carriage as a clearly tired, scruffy-looking guy who lays his guitar case down across two seats about three rows away from Steve before slumping into one himself, one that faces Steve.

Despite the guy’s bedraggled appearance, and the smudges of eyeliner that are still clinging to his waterline, Steve is entranced. He can’t help but follow the long line of the guy’s arms under the sleeves of his jacket, down to the flex and curl of his fingers as they drum out a rhythm on the little table in front of him. The man seems to sense Steve’s curious eyes on him and glances up, meeting Steve’s gaze with wide, bleary brown eyes and a half-smile. He scratches at the skin behind his ear, just beneath where a mess of curls is twisted into a lazy bun.

“Late night?” Steve finds himself asking unprompted. He’s not one to talk to strangers, but there’s something compelling, intriguing about the inked etchings peaking out of the guy’s sleeve cuffs, the silver stud in his nose, the heavy boots at the end of long, stretched out legs. He’s so very different from the crisp and fresh-pressed suits at the firm, and even though it isn’t even 6am yet, Steve suddenly feels wide awake.

“Uh, yeah,” the guy answers sheepishly, his voice rough with evident disuse - or overuse. perhaps both. “Would you believe I missed the last train yesterday night?”

“Ah, trains are tricky like that. You don’t live around here then?” It’s a presumptuous question, but one that Steve’s instincts tell him to ask.

“I look like that much of a city rat, huh?” The man chuckles, and Steve’s heartbeat ticks up.

“Hah- You don’t- You don’t look like a lot of the people I see around town, is all I’m saying. and that’s not a bad thing, if I’m being totally honest.” Steve can feel his cheeks heating, and for a moment the rumble of the train is the only sound.

“Okay, good. I’ll take that,” the guy says, brows pinching a little. “You uh, you goin’ into the city then I'm guessing?”

“Yeah, it’s a shitty gig having to come all this way, but at least I haven’t had to sell my kidney to cover rent.”

“I don’t think they’d take my kidney if I offered,” the guy smiles, and Steve barks out a laugh that’s too loud for the empty carriage and the earliness. The guy shifts in his seat, and Steve instinctively leans forward, wanting really to move the few rows forward until he’s close enough to see the early morning light dance and glint in those big, dark eyes.

“That have anything to do with while you were stranded?” Steve asks, gesturing to the guitar case.

“Yup. got me in all kinds of trouble, she has. Gig finished late, couldn’t get a cab, welcome to hotel train-station-waiting-room.”

Steve manages to chuckle more softly this time, his gaze catching on the twitch of the guy’s lips as he stifles a yawn.

“Hey, if you wanted to- You could take a nap, I’ll watch your stuff. Make sure no one steals it, or whatever.”

The man blinks at him in surprise, lashes fluttering where his lids are heavy.

“That’d- Shit, that’d be awesome, man. Do you mind?”

“Not at all. Let me just-” And so Steve’s more daring thoughts win out. He plucks up his briefcase from the seat next to him and hurries the short distance to the cluster of seats on the opposite side of the aisle from his new charge. “There. Now I got a clear line of sight.”

“I’ve never felt safer,” the guy jokes, and pulls the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head, tucking his chin into his shoulder and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, shit sorry, um. When should I wake you?”

“Whenever you’re getting off, big boy,” the guy shoots back without raising his head, and Steve can just about make out the curve of his lips and the dimple that sits in the corner of his cheek. He can feel his own cheeks warming at the guy’s words, and Steve’s glad there’s no one around to see. He lets himself watch this pretty stranger under the pretence that he’s keeping an eye on his guitar, and the hour and a half slides by almost unnoticed.

The carriage is a little busier but still quiet when Steve’s stop rolls around. The man hasn’t moved since he nodded off, and it almost breaks Steve’s heart to wake him. Carefully, Steve stands and leans down, wrapping his fingers around the man’s shoulder and shaking lightly.

“Hey, buddy, I gotta get off.”

The guy’s eyes blink open, wide and unfocused and so lovely, before they swivel up to meet Steve’s own. His chin tips upward and his lips curve in a smile, and something in Steve begs closer closer closer, but instead he just clears his throat and rights himself.

“Thank you, dude. Even that was way better than a wooden goddamn bench.” The guy bends his arms and stretches, and Steve doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“I’m- I’m steve, by the way,” he announces suddenly, making a step towards the carriage doors, despite how reluctant he is to move away from his stranger.

“Hey, Steve,” the guy replies, hauling himself upright - how coincidental that they’re off at the same, second-to-last stop. The train draws to a halt, and the guy stumbles forward just a fraction, still off-balance with new consciousness. Suddenly, they’re face to face. Or more they’re nose to chin, because this man has a good four inches on Steve. It’s all Steve can do not to lean up and kiss his pretty lips right here and now. “Name’s Eddie.”

And it feels right. It fits.

Steve doesn’t know how or why, but everything about this man fits; feels right.

“Good to meet you, Eddie,” Steve says, a little breathless. “Hey, if you’re ever down my way again, how about I give you a better place to sleep than a waiting room bench.” And Steve knows it’s a bit of a pretentious thing to do, but he slips a business card out of his wallet and tucks it into the breast pocket of Eddie’s jacket. He pats it once and pivots away, can’t bear the thought that he’s misread the electricity between them. He rushes through the doors and slips into the stream of morning bodies, leaving the perfect newness of his pretty stranger back in that carriage. but that evening, Steve’s phone buzzes with a text from an unsaved number.

It simply reads:

thanks again for being my lookout. if the offer’s still on the table, how about friday night?

[gibsongirled]

hii.. I'm new here, but I wanna request a Jschlatt fic!! Maybe the reader gets uncomfortable by a guy at the subway or somewhere and calls Jschlatt, and he comes to get her when he hears she's really anxious?? :-)

Take your time with it and whatnot :D, thx!!

SUBWAY !!

description: people at subway stations were definitely something.

a/n: this is a bit short, but i hope you like it !!

Ah, New York City. Probably the distant cousin of Texas and Florida.

The pizza rats and the mobs of buskers wearing knockoff costumes of beloved cartoon characters that’d swarm unsuspecting tourists for pictures and tips. That was probably the epitome of New York City in a nutshell.

You moved from LA to The Big Apple last year. Living in New York in your twenties was something that younger you had dreamed of.

You grew up watching Friends because your mother thought it was the best show in the world and you tried to stomach that as much as you could before the laugh tracks started to sound grating to your ears, but the idea and aesthetic of living in The Big Apple seemed appealing to your young and naive mind. Now actually living in it, you had half a mind to sock your younger self in the face and scream: “Do not move!”, because New York was nothing like how Friends portrayed it to be - okay, maybe you related to the theme song more than you’d like to admit.

To be fair, New York was like LA - nothing really changed in your move, the latter just ranked semi low on the insane scale of places to live in. Influencers flock to sunny Los Angeles for its overpriced stores like Erewhon. You might have shed some tears when you wanted to try a smoothie from them and found out about the price - with Schlatt cackling maniacally while you were trying to defend your choices, you were glad to move out after that.

“I’m gonna be a little late,” you said into your phone that was wedged between your shoulder and face. You stepped off the platform and onto the relatively empty subway car with its doors closing behind you, quickly finding a place to sit. “I picked up dinner from that place - yeah, turns out they didn’t shut down. There was a raid or some shit, I dunno, man.”

Schlatt said something on the other line that made you roll your eyes and laugh under your breath. “Hey, they have amazing egg rolls. I will not accept slander on their name.”

“I’ll call you back,” you hung up, cutting off whatever retort Schlatt was cooking up when you noticed a man, who was sitting on the opposite side of you. He started an unprompted conversation with you, making you nod with an awkward smile on your face. Two more stops before you’re home.

“You’re pretty,” he piped up.

You made a face, clutching your phone. “Uh, thanks…”

You cut the conversation off by going on your phone, causing the guy to let out a scoff as you kept your attention on your phone. You texted Schlatt, telling him about the weird guy and to pick you up from your stop if he wasn’t super busy.

You: super weird guy on the subway You: meet me at my stop? You: i’m like t-minus one stop away Schlart: Yeah, sure Schlart: Will be waiting

You sent a smiling emoji back. Your stop was coming up so you stood up from your seat, walking near the doors for a quick exit. Surprisingly, the man didn’t follow you - he didn’t even look at you now - and you let out a deep breath. Usually, those types of encounters didn’t happen to you, but that was also because Schlatt was like a guard dog each time the two of you went anywhere.

The doors opened and you stepped out, a few other people walking in different directions behind you. You saw Schlatt quickly walking down the steps, pushing past some strangers. “Hey!” You waved at him, holding up the takeout bag.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, handing him the bag. Schlatt took it, leading you out of the subway station with a hand on your shoulder as you talked his ear off about random things.

[waayoutofline]

When the Cat and the Mouse go for a midnight dance.

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Tags: Agent Natasha x Criminal // Antihero Reader, violence, blood, murder and death, questionable moral reader, romantic insinuation (but not smut). Basically reader being a little shit and Natasha being tired of it. Fun and violent times :)

Summary —> Natasha has been chasing you, a fugitive and self claimed vigilante, for a while. One night, your paths cross again and you can’t help but to tease her a bit.

Part 1 | Part 2

WORD COUNT: 2025

The sun’s warmth has faded, yielding to dense shadows that engulf the streets. Amid dark corners and treacherous alleys, fear triggers instincts, the sympathetic system heightening defenses and hijacking paranoia. Adrenaline kicks in, heart racing, body preparing for any kind of danger looming around the corners.

And yet, you’ve always found a sense of comfort in it.

“Nah, I’m telling you, man, forget him. I’m not going back; that place is a hellhole.” a slightly drunk voice slurs, echoing against brick walls as rats scurry from dumpsters. A lighter crackles, followed by smoke drifting in the chilled breeze.

”Oh yeah? So, when are you telling him that?” Another scrawny voice asks with amusement. A silence, followed by a dry chuckle. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Smoke drifts slightly with the breeze, temperature drooping slightly.

“Shit, it's freezing out here.” One of the two complains.

The darkness the night brings…It allows you to hide. Yourself, your actions. From praying eyes. From the world. Perhaps even God if you are a believer.

“We’ve been safeguarding the warehouse for ages. What’s in there that he cares so much about?” he asks, taking another drag of his cigarette. For his voice, it was easy to guess he has had the nasty habit of smoking for years.

“Who knows. Drugs, guns, people…his usual shit.” His friend answers. “Honestly, I rather not know.”

You take the shot on your hand, leaving it on the trail before shaking your hair messily. A sigh scapes your lips as your hands pull down on your uncomfortably short dress.

“Whatever. I don’t give a damn as long as the money keeps flowing. Maybe he could throw in one of those spare companions of his.” The smile in his tone is evident.

“What? Want his sloppy seconds?”

“Oh fuck off.”

It allows you to either be the prey…or the hunter.

With practiced, seemingly haphazard steps, you maneuver your way toward one of the two men outside, their head turning immediately. “Woah there, sweetheart,” the one who catches you slurs, his hands immediately on your waist. His eyes darkening as he stares at you. “We wouldn’t want a sweet thing like you to hurt herself now, would we?” His breath reeks of bourbon and tobacco, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at how effortlessly this is playing out.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Your voice is sweet, innocent—a trap. “I’m so clumsy.” He laughs, revealing yellowed and crooked teeth.

“That’s alright, glad I was here.” A silly giggle, another stumble.

“Got lost?” His friend asks, currently behind you. “You shouldn’t be. There are dangerous people out here.”

At least he got that part right.

The shorter one of the two steps closer. “I was just looking for something. Think you can help?” you say, looking up with doe eyes. He appears foolish as he stares with a blurry gaze.

A whistle. “Sure thing.” You find yourself almost trapped between the two.

“Great, thanks.” Your voice returns to normal, and in a matter of seconds, you punch the one in front of you in the throat. His dirty, clammy fingers release you in panic to clutch his throat, emitting a pathetic choking sound.

“What the fu-” As his friend reacts, you swiftly turn around and knee him in the groin. He howls and crumples to the floor with a cry.

“You bitch-“ Douchebg A says as he swings, movement sloppy. You easily dodge, making him tip and fall over his buddie, the two grunting. With a sigh, you grab the collar of his jacket and drag him to the vent of the rooftop, slamming him extra hard for good measure.

He is about to strand up, but you punch him on his nose with all your strength, one, two, three times until blood drips all over his gray shirt. As his back drags down the wall behind him, you kick him full force on the face.Between the pain and the alcohol on his system, he remains seated.

Just as Douchebag B gets on all fours, you walk towards him and kick him on the stomach, making him drop to the floor once again. He rolls around, trying to get away but you grab his hair and slam him downwards.

Making sure both of them are now unmoving, your hands catch the dagger strapped on your thigh and the map. Douchebag B is still wheezing, with a concussion probably. Crouching, you shove the map on his face. “Alright. So, about that help. Point to me where the warehouse is.”

He grunts. “Like hell I’ll tell you.” He spits. A sigh escapes your lips.

”It’s never easy with you people, is it?” Flipping your dagger, you stab in the side of his lower thigh, making him yelp. “I’m not asking nicely again. Point it or I’ll take this out and you’ll bleed out in a few minutes.”

He sputters, shaking his head. You dig deeper and he lets out another cry. Dragging it down, blood starts to spurt, skin and muscle ripping. “Fuck okay, okay! Here, i-its here…S-shit.” His shaky hands marks a street, leaving a smear of blood.

You turn to watch Douchebag A. “Now, you are going to say the address. I hope for both your sakes that it matches.” He mutters it. A pause as your eyes scans the map.

You fold it, a satisfied little smile on your face and then you pull the knife out, getting away just in time to avoid a spurt of blood. “Uh, messy.”

His friends curses. You can see how his face gets pale, breaths becoming shallower as a pool of blood starts to surround him. “What the fuc- He told you! W-we told you!”

Wiping the knife with the soon-to-be dead man on the ground, you put it back in place and walk towards him. A pipe on the ground lifts as you step on it and you grab it.You pout mockingly. “Yeah, I guess you did. Don’t worry, I believe you.”

“Y-you sick bit-..:”

A swing. Two. A sickening sound of broken bones and then nothing.

The silence returns once again, only slightly disturbed by your soft humming as you go back on your steps, closing the rooftop door and returning to the dim hallways of the club. As you advance, the thrumming of the loud music beat alongside your racing heart, a mass of drunken bodies not giving a single fuck at the suspicious now maroon spot on your midnight blue dress.

Entering the bathroom, you swiftly change into your standard attire, concealed within a hidden backpack. Black jeans, a wine crop top, and a dark blue denim jacket replace the compromised ensemble. Glancing in the mirror, you prepare to rejoin the dance floor with a specific goal in mind—the bar.

Where a cute, striking bartender is apparently engrossed in serving drinks. You say apparently because you know that in reality, she is too busy searching for you. Opting to spare her the pursuit, you lock eyes, and your heart quickens for an entirely different reason.

Forest green eyes fixate solely on you, creating a euphoria-like sensation despite your sobriety. A subtle smirk materializes under the focused gaze, and with a gentle sway of your hips, you approach her slowly, almost teasingly. On your way, you accidentally get in the way of a woman, who ends up backing away on a body next to her. ”Oh, so sorry!” You call out with an easy smile, still not changing directions.

“What? Not using the “what is such a beautiful lady like yourself doing here out of all places” line?” You tease, sitting on the stool, resting your chin on your right hand. She scoffs.

”Oh please, we both know that the lady is fully aware of what she is doing.” Her voice is deep, a bit raspy. Her words are calculated and you just want for her to lose her composure.

With a playful tone, you note. “Hm, you didn’t deny the “beautiful”. Do you fancy me, Agent Romanoff?”

“Hm, perhaps. If only you weren’t a worldwide fugitive.” Natasha answers back, tone dripping with mockery.

”I’l take that as a yes.” She wipes a glass, your eyes tracking the simple yet effective movements. “So, tell me. How many to the party did you bring today? For your sake, I hope they aren’t rookies.”

Natasha scoffs. “The building is surrounded. If you come willingly now, it all would go more…easy. For both of us.”

A snort. ”Aw, and cut short this cute Tom and Jerry little game we have? Please. We both know you enjoy it just as much as me, Natalia.” Her name comes out in almost a whisper as you get slightly closer. Your words hang in the air, charged with tension. “Don't tell me you don’t reveal on the thrill of the chase.”

She chuckles, the sound rich and low. “You and your flair for the dramatic. But let's not forget the reality of our situation. You are a criminal, and I’m tasked with bringing you in.”

It’s funny, really. The way in which this banter is maybe the only thing that makes adrenaline rush into your veins, well that besides your job of course. Still, you can't help but feel amused by it. “Yeah, sure, because your buddies are going to stop me. Let’s see, then!”

Clapping with your hands happily, you turn around slightly to look at the crowd. “Who will it be? PDA couplet over there?”

Natasha follows your pointing thumb, frowning when she sees the girl you shoved “accidentally”, now passionately making out with a tall, brunette dude. “The ones who guarded the exits which are currently tied up in the janitors closet?…Or perhaps the one who will tell you about my little handywork?”

Just in time, a slight buzzing tingles in the Russian agent’s ear. “Agent Romanoff, we found two gang members on the roof. One is already dead, several blunt trauma, and the other is about to bleed out. I’d say he has a few minutes tops.”

Her veiny hand grips the counter, knuckles turning white. A low whistle escapes you at the sight. “I mean, you could try and stop me yourself. Let me say, I’m not opposed to you putting me in handcuffs.” You tease with a dangerous glint in your eyes, your fingers tracing her left wrist up to her bicep. If she is bothered because of your touch, she doesn’t show it. But you see how her grip relaxes ever so slightly. Hm, interesting. “...or you could go, get the information from that dying bastard before it’s too late and you find yourself being stuck in a dead-end. Again.”

The wheels in her head are practically visible. Her eyes darken, and her jaw tenses. Oh, how you love to see her all worked up, knowing that you are one of the few who can break her cold composure. You mouth a tick-tock and with a hard downing of the bottle on her hand to the counter.

”This isn’t over. I’ll get my hands on you eventually.”

A pout. “Promise?” With a last scowl, she flies off.

Rushing through the stairs, the cold air hits Natasha on the face, her eyes adjusting to the poor light. “How is he?” Her eyes fall on the weapons you used, hand grabbing the now blooded pipe.

“I already cover the wound, but the blood…he's loosing too much. He won't make it to the medbay.” Crouching next to him, Natasha see the sickly pale tone of his face, eyes practically close and hears the shallow, broken breaths. Her eyes inspect the now covered deadly wound and grunts in frustration. “Hey, can you hear me?”

No response. He is dead. Out of frustration, she punches the vent next to him. “Um, ma’am? You should see this.”

A brick wall, right next to the door, with a message written in blood. “When you stop scowling, give me a call dear. Swear I’ll play nice.”

Grunting in frustration, Natasha throws the pipe against the wall, fuming. Looking over the street, she doesn’t see you anywhere. You are gone, even if something tells her you are giggling under the shadows.

[nihildenial]

Beggin' On Your Knees by nihil-denial (wc: 4,725)

Rating: Explicit 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Dewdrop x Phantom (x Aether mentioned)

Tags: Smut, PWP, boot worship, light angst, Newly-summoned Phantom, Impera Tour

Summary: Phantom doesn't realize that Dewdrop has a 'punishment' for Ghouls who make fun of his height. Based on the ritual videos where Phantom gets on his knees during Kiss the Go-Goat.

There’s fifteen minutes until they’re required to be ready on stage, and most of the nameless Ghouls are already finished getting dressed. The five male-oriented Ghouls shared a sizeable greenroom in between Papa Copia and the Ghoulettes, only separated from the female Ghouls because of the way Dew and Swiss all hog mirrors.

Dew was taking his time plaiting his hair on top of his head, making sure the ash blonde strands wouldn’t be a complete rat’s nest under his hood.

“Hey look!” Phantom is crouched by the rack that held their Impera uniforms. Now with most of them dressed, the only thing left are Phantom’s and Dewdrop’s shiny, black boots.

He can tell Swiss’ eyebrows are furrowed under his mask. “Are you discovering boots for the first time?”

“No, I know what they are! I was pointing to the size difference between my boots and Dew’s. Mine are like, so much taller!” Phantom chirps.

He's right. Dewdrop may have long legs, but his short torso makes him stand 5 ft 2in and his wiry legs make his boots look like children’s’ shoes. Phantom’s lanky form is made of mile-long legs and his request for a small amount of extra heel makes his boots seem monstrous in comparison.

“You sayin’ something about my height?” Dewdrop crosses his arms.

“Well, yes, I think. But in a good way! Look at how silly our boots look together. They’re proportionate, just like our height.”

Mountain sits at the mirror behind Dewdrop, gesturing with a slash across his throat in the reflection that Phantom can see. “Guys, we have only twelve minutes until curtain.”

The Fire Ghoul cocks his head accusingly at Phantom. “Look, I understand you’re still getting used to being on tour with us and sharing a dressing space, but I don’t appreciate comments about my height.”

Phantom blinks, a little unsure at how the Ghoul was taking this the wrong way. In the four weeks since he was summoned he’s watched Swiss comment about their height difference all the time! Even Papa called Dewdrop ‘Little Man’ at the last ritual. “Sorry, I just thought it was a little funny…” He pouts.

Dewdrop snatches his boots and laces them up with an ease only gained through tying them thousands of times. “The difference isn’t even that big,” He sniffs. His helmet is on and latched as he walks out of the green room.

“Concert mode,” Rain shakes his head. “He always gets a little testy before a ritual. Don’t sweat it, Bug.”

“Yeah, needs to let off some steam. He’s worried about bossing you around because you’re new,” Swiss shrugs. “He’ll get his bossy kink sorted out by dragging one of us back to the bus by our tails after the ritual I’m sure.”

Phantom quietly ties up his boots. He knew the consequences of being Aether’s replacement would eventually show up.

-

Copia is glad his contract gives him a separate dressing room judging by the way Dewdrop is stomping down the hallway. “Save the stomps for the encore, per favore!” He calls as the Fire Ghoul passes by.

Dew flips him off and continues towards backstage.

“That means showtime, Papa,” Kevin pokes his head in the dressing room.

-

The last ritual before the end of the tour is nearing its end on a high note, despite Ghost’s lead guitarist’s earlier fuming. All of the Ghouls are doing their normal antics of chasing each other, Swiss shimmies with Papa, and dueling guitars.

Copia’s encore monologue begins, and Phantom takes his first deep breath in a couple hours. He takes note of his guitar and stretches each of his ankles discreetly. The mid-calf boots are great for support, but his legs get so sweaty under all the layers of pants, socks, and insoles.

Thinking of his boots reminds him of the greenroom incident. He glances over at Dewdrop and sees the Fire Ghoul posing for pictures with the fans at the barrier. He should be doing that—however, he’s still new to the fans and his mind is beginning to spin out of control with racing thoughts.

Phantom wants to be on Dewdrop’s good side. He wants to be a member of the pack and be an addition to Aether, not a replacement. They’ll return to the Abbey overnight and they’ll have time to relax and work things out.

His earpiece clicks with the recorded two-verse intro track of Kiss the Go-Goat and Phantom comes up with a plan to woo the Fire Ghoul—even in front of thousands of fans. Playing this song is easy, so Phantom uses it to keep an eye on the best opening for his plan.

“…You’ve been daddied, by all the dudes that were not dad…”

Copia swings his right hand through the open space of Dewdrop’s knees and nestles his head on the plane of the Ghoul’s thigh. The kneel and next quick movement away from Dewdrop is impressive for a man of Papa’s age.

Phantom can feel the satisfaction at the open display of affection.Well, if Dewdrop likes those who kneel…

The second chorus comes around and the Quintessence Ghoul summons all his courage to march to the center where Dew is riffing. Keeping time with muscle memory, Phantom easily slides to his knees at Dewdrop’s feet. Feeling the shock and surprise from the crowd makes him grin.

He takes it a step further when Dew doesn’t move away for the next riff and spreads his knees, arching his back until his helmet touches the stage. He locks eyes (goggle lenses really) with the shocked lead Guitarist and shoots his best smirk through his mask.

Dewdrop stands still while his fingers continue to dance over the frets. Phantom rocks his hips upwards and over his feet then stands up effortlessly. As he saunters back to stage left, he can feel the hidden amber gaze laser-focused on him.

Copia ends the ritual with heart-pumping Square Hammer. The opening riff is usually conducted by Phantom, Rain, and Dewdrop, gathering the crowd’s applause for one last song. There’s typically a lean involved in their riff between Rain and Dew, and Phantom decides instead his forward towards the barrier, he leans in time with the other two Ghouls.

Dewdrop’s gaze barely moves away from Phantom’s form as they break apart to their sections for Copia to take the spotlight. The song continues until the last repeat of “right here, right now,” and a final shower of sparkles from the overhead catwalk.

Phantom hands off his guitar to the stagehand and returns to the stage with a bag of marked picks to throw.

“Pulled a fast one on him,” Swiss bumps hips with Phantom as they stand around throwing picks to fans.

“I thought I would do something to show him that he has nothing to worry about us fighting,” He shrugs. “Kneeling is a sign of respect in some human countries.”

“It’s also kinky as fuck. He’s going to think you’re propositioning him.”

Phantom once again shrugs. In the few orgies he’s witnessed and been involved in, he steered clear of Aether and Dewdrop. Not only did they have closer moments, but Copia and Cumulus were all too happy to heard the new Quintessence Ghoul’s attention. Phantom totally would not mind being under either the Ghoul couple separately or simultaneously.

Dewdrop saunters past Phantom on the way to center stage for bows, the Fire Ghoul’s elegant hands trailing along Phantom’s lower back. He settles himself in line between Phantom and Papa, squeezing his hand harder than normal.

“Hey, my hand hurts when you squeeze like that,” He hisses when their head are bowed.

Dewdrop’s amber eyes are visible through the mesh of the goggles. They stare at him heatedly.

Phantom tries not to think the heat is anger. He breathes a sigh of relief when Dew lets go of his hand and strides off stage.

“You know, that was so incredibly hot,” Aurora is pressing herself into Phantom’s side as soon as they’re behind the heavy curtains. “Really gave me some ideas about testing how flexible you are.”

She knows he can’t resist her. They were summoned together and share a bond that goes deeper than normal lust and affection. He lets her pull them towards the Ghoulette’s dressing room.

Tonight’s the last ritual of the tour, and though many of them are eager to get back to the Ministry, they’re only a five-hour bus ride away. Copia is probably taking his own time to pack up his cluttered dressing room.

Cumulus and Cirrus are a little upset when they find they can’t access their room, but chat with Kevin, Ashley, and Papa while they wait for the soft moans inside to cease.

-

On the bus, everyone scatters to different areas. Mountain curls up in Copia’s bed at the back, quickly joined by the singer and Swiss for cuddles. Cumulus and Cirrus tangle themselves together on the living area couch, Aurora and Rain head for their bunks, and Phantom sits at the dining table to pull out his markers and coloring books.

Dew surprisingly is the last one to board and heads straight for the bathroom. His phone is already smushed to his right ear.

Cumulus calls out, “Say hi to Aether for us.”

Dew nods and disappears, voice too soft for any of them to eavesdrop.

Phantom watches him go with worried purple eyes.

“What’s got you concerned, Bug?” Cumulus picks up her knitting needles and unrolls the large blanket she’s been working on for the entire tour.

“Just Dew. I said something earlier that I think made him upset with me.”

Cirrus pokes her head out from the couch’s blanket. “Like what?”

“Well, our boots were together on the rack, and I was joking about how different their sizes are. He took that the wrong way I think.” Phantom sighs and colors in a cherry blossom tree.

“I’m sure he’s simply ready to be alone with Aether for a bit. He was a little more restless then usual on stage tonight and I think he’s had enough of being away from the Abbey. All of us are in that headspace. It typically hits Mountain hard as well,” Cirrus reassures him.

He nods. That seems likely. “I’m just so excited to be at all these different places. Staying at the Abbey doesn’t seem as fun to me.”

Cumulus smiles gently, “You’ll get there. You’re still full of raw power and young. Dewdrop’s an old man compared to us. Let the old man have his alone time and then we can all make a comfy pile in the den together. By next tour, you’ll be just as smooth as the two of us at this.”

Phantom begins to color the rainbow that arches over the picture. That sounds nice. The three of them sit quietly and listen to the radio station the Brother of Blasphemy is listening to up in the driving area.

Suddenly, the bathroom door opens, and Dewdrop shuffles out. His pale grey cheeks are flushed pink, and he doesn’t meet any of their gazes, hurrying off to his bunk. The swish of his curtain lets them all know he wants to be left alone.

“Damn I guess he really didn’t like what I said,” Phantom says quietly.

“Give him some time,” Cumulus repeats.

Phantom stares out the windows as they finally reach the highway back to the Ministry.

-

Being the last on, does mean that Dewdrop is the first Ghoul off the bus. He’s clamoring out of his bunk, backpack ready, and sits with the Brother driving for the last ten minutes of the drive.

Papa, Swiss, and Mountain all saunter out of the back bedroom and sit with Phantom at the table while munching on the last few packs of Oreos.

“I’m very proud of you, my dear Phantom,” Copia says warmly as they all stand to disembark from the bus. “I love the energy you’ve brought to the band.”

Phantom leans into the man’s embrace, hugging him tightly. “Thank you, Papa. It was fun to explore the world like this.”

Just as Copia opens the bus door for himself to step out first, Dewdrop weaves under his arm to slip out ahead of him.

He simply sighs and puts back on his smile for the gathered Siblings and Clergy members on the Ministry’s front lawn. Lots of greetings, hugs, and kisses are shared between them all as Ghost is welcomed back home. Phantom is congratulated by everyone and even gets an approving look from Sister Imperator.

He goes down to the Ghoul den with a bounce in his step and guitar case in hand. He would go unpack his Fantomen, change the strings and clean it, then relax for the night.

The Ghouls’ practice room is across the hallway from their bedrooms, so he puts down his duffel bag on his bed. When he moves across the hall to the rehearsal room, he sees that the lights are already on; which is interesting because he’s the first Ghoul to come down here. The others stopped into the dining hall to eat first.

Phantom looks in but doesn’t see anyone on the stage. So, he opens the door carefully and hears the sound of someone restringing a guitar.

Dewdrop is standing off to the far side of the stage by equalizer setup. He doesn’t look up as the Quintessence Ghoul enters.

“I thought you’d be with Aether somewhere,” Phantom says apologetically and goes to back out of the room.

“Don’t leave.”

The Quintessence Ghoul freezes. “What?”

Dewdrop continues to turn the pegs of his guitar in-time with the plucking of strings. “Come here.”

“No, you’re going to flick my forehead like you do to Swiss.”

“I’m not gonna.”

Phantom eyes him warily.

Dewdrop glances up at him through his loose ash blonde hair. “Just c’mere. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s just weird to talk across the room.”

Phantom watches him for any sudden movements as he walks over. He sets down his guitar case by the rack and steps up beside him.

“I’m sorry about me exploding at you before the gig,” The Fire Ghoul says. It sounds genuine, even if he’s not making eye contact with him. “In talking to Aether, he made me realize that you didn’t deserve my anger because to you, it looks like everybody jokes on my height without consequences.”

He nods, “I understand. Thank you for your apology, and I’ll make sure not to do it again,” Phantom feels his whole body relax at the apology.

“So now, you’ll know what happens when you talk about my height.”

Phantom’s eyebrows furrow. “But you just said—”

“I said that to you, it looks like there are no consequences,” Dewdrop finally raises his head to meet the Quintessence Ghoul’s gaze. “Only naughty Ghouls disrespect my height and don’t expect a punishment.”

Phantom takes a startled step back at the heat that rushes through his body at the veiled threat. Usually, he’s cornered or wistfully swept off his feet in soft embraces. This feels like Dew wants him to posture back. Phantom takes the argument bait, “A punishment, I was just making a joke!”

“A hurtful one at that,” Dew goes back to tuning his guitar. “Kneel and apologize to me."

“What? No!” Phantom agrees getting down would be hot as hell, but his instincts are warring after he already has apologized.

Dewdrop shrugs. “Okay.”

“Okay?!” What the fuck does he want?

The Fire Ghoul turns and plucks another new guitar string from the open pack on the amp. “You can leave and live with the guilt that you hurt my feelings without making it up to me, or you can suffer through the punishment and we both leave here satisfied.”

Phantom can’t deny that his interest in how this mystery punishment will leave both of them satisfied. Isn’t that the opposite of a punishment? This Fire Ghoul is too confusing for him. “What kind of punishment?”

“Kneeling at my feet and not being allowed to cum for an hour.”

Phantom huffs. “Just kneeling? Sounds easy.”

Dewdrop nods, “Simply kneel right here, and I’ll be more than willing to forgive you.”

“Just kneeling,”’ He repeats dumbly.

“Just kneeling.”

Phantom shrugs off his hoodie and checks his phone. It’s midnight. His sweatpants are stretchy enough for this. Without another word, Phantom steps over until he’s directly in front of the Fire Ghoul just like on stage. He sinks to his knees, relaxing back onto his heels.

Dewdrop watches him with those constantly burning amber eyes. He stays silent and his gaze focuses back on restringing his C string. “Good boy; you’re kneeling so nicely for me.”

A shiver wracks through Phantom. Oh no. He suddenly understands how this is a punishment. He fights the immediate arousal that surges through him. Everything is made worse because he is now eye-level with Dew’s crotch, seeing how he’s not affected at all.

“Am I allowed to talk?” Phantom tries after a few minutes of quiet off-tune tuning plucks.

“No.”

“Oh,” He mumbles. His purple eyes look for anything else to focus on when he thinks too hard about this situation makes his…situation hard. Sitting here and purposefully allowing himself to be below the Fire Ghoul is hotter than he expected. He shifts from sitting on his heels to more of a W kneel. As he moves, his eyes catch a flash of his own reflection.

Dewdrop is wearing his stage boots. It looks silly when paired with his dark blue jeans, but seeing the cause of his punishment sends a searing blaze across Phantom’s pink cheeks.

Another few minutes go by without too much trouble.

“You’re doing so well for me,” Dewdrop says. “Swiss never stays still for this long.”

The competitive instinct in the Ghoul rears its head.

“Oh? You like me talking about how naughty the other Ghouls are?”

Phantom bites his lip and nods.

Dewdrop plays a scale riff to test out the newest string. “Swiss is the easiest to get on his knees for me. He’ll beg me wherever; no matter who could walk in on us. Sometimes he doesn’t even have something to make up to me for, he simply wants to show how much he likes being underneath me.”

Phantom’s mind spins with the thought of walking in on the two of them. Swiss, most likely half-dressed, kneeling and shifting constantly at Dewdrop’s feet. Would the Fire Ghoul be as bored with him as he is right now? Would Dew keep a locked gaze with Swiss’ pretty mauve eyes?

Phantom can’t help it and raises his gaze. He drags it up the shined boot leg, then thick denim to the edge of Aether’s black hoodie, then finally up to his face.

“You’re allowed to look.”

The Quintessence Ghoul smiles as Dewdrop gives him a softer look. It’s not a smile, but an expression that somehow conveys the same warmth.

“Swiss looks too much. He tries to goad me into breaking before he does, using those stupidly pretty eyes of his. You wouldn’t try to undermine your punishment, right?”

Phantom nods, body reacting to the image of a subservient Swiss Army Ghoul compared to the demon grinding on his stage microphone.

“Of course you wouldn’t. You’re such a good boy. I see how sweet and caring you are to our packmates.”

Phantom is very much losing the battle of not letting his arousal show. He has to shift back to sitting on his heels as an ache begins in lower legs. Doing so brings a thread of pleasure as his knees touch, involuntarily squeezing his thighs.

Dewdrop notices. “Remember that you can’t touch yourself.”

Phantom nods. He didn’t say anything about squeezing his thighs together. He does it more slowly, so the Fire Ghoul doesn’t notice.

Another new string is put on. More off-tune plucking until the string sings in harmony during a scale. The repeated scales and sounds of Dew taking care of his precious guitar work as hypnosis to make every part of Dew in Phantom’s visible range seem hotter, more beautiful and sinful.

“Forty minutes left.”

The way Phantom can see the flush on his cheeks in the reflection of Dewdrop’s boots. He looks debauched, and he’s done nothing kneel. Dewdrop has only called him two pet names and described how Swiss is a little shit even during punishments.

“One day I’d like to see you and Aether go at it. He likes to pull hair.”

A soft moan slips out of Phantom’s mouth at that. Cumulus always made sure to scratch his scalp when he went down on her. The grip of her claws sent pinpricks of pain/pleasure down his spine.

“I’m sure he would love to have you under him. We would watch you with Papa, how you were so eager to show your devotion to him. Like a puppy greeting his owner after a long day,” Dew says. He barely has any emotion except for how his lips quirk at the analogy.

Phantom whines in the back of his throat.

“Good boy for holding yourself back.”

Phantom shivers. It forces him closer to Dew’s feet. He’s practically straddling the Fire Ghoul’s right foot. He settles his knees wider, and his ass makes contact with the hard toe of the shiny boot.

“You’re going to ruin the shine of my ‘smaller’ boots,” Dewdrop says. “You better make sure they don’t get stained anything.”

“No, they won’t.”

The last guitar string is expertly threaded through the pegs and down the fingerboard. He doesn’t call out Phantom speaking. “Twenty minutes left.”

Phantom nods. He tenses his thighs to get another wave of pleasure when the pressure of sitting on the toe of Dew’s boot makes him moan again.

“Did someone find a loophole?” Dew questions boredly. “I don’t care as long as you don’t cum.”

The blanket permission has Phantom leaning his hands behind him and slowly starting to grind down on the steel-toe hidden under smooth black rubber.

Dewdrop coos, “So pretty. Papa summoned such a beautiful creature.”

Phantom’s head hangs forward at the praise. He doesn’t care that he’s beginning to openly rock against his feet. His hand slips and he shifts forward on the boot, the taut lacing creating nodes of friction through his sweatpants. It’s impossible not to chase the pleasure racing up his body. He can last twenty minutes! He just has to stop right before he cums.

What Phantom doesn’t expect is for Dewdrop to starting playing music. Circe's opening melody floats down to Phantom’s floaty and desperate mind. When did Dew hook up his guitar?

The amp next to them makes the melody seem all-encompassing, filling both ears until Phantom’s usual solo is haunting him with every thrust of his hips.

“Dew…” Phantom whispers in the noise of the music. His clammy hands keep slipping on the wood floor and he has to arch forward to wrap them around Dew’s leg. He feels the slight tensing of the Fire Ghoul’s thigh under his fingers but sees no other outward expression of arousal.

Phantom rucks his hips up against the vertical lacing. He lets himself grind without holding back as Dewdrop continues to riff different melodies. Each of the spicy shenanigans they pull on stage flashes behind Phantom’s eyelids.

Swiss pretending to jerk off Dew during Watcher in the Sky. Papa kneeling behind him and grasping Dew’s thigh during Kiss the Go-Goat. Aurora kissing Cirrus when she returns to her stage after her Mummy Dust solo. The way Swiss leaned over his stage and kissed him during Square Hammer.

Phantom grips Dew’s thigh tighter and uses it to pull himself harder against the lacing. The front of his sweatpants are damp now, and it only makes the slide of his cock easier and faster. The tip of his cock bumps the knot of his laces, and as he grinds, he lifts his hips to press the knot against the underside of his cock head.

“Seven minutes left.”

Oh fuck, he’s not going to make it at this rate. Phantom shudders and uses all will-power to pause his grinding.

“I like seeing you down there. You’ve been so good for me.”

Phantom whimpers at that. He’s tired from performing and though he knows he’s good at his instrument, praise on everything else makes his heart skip a beat.

Dewdrop begins the Cirice melody again, playing around with harmonies.

It’s like hypnosis; Phantom’s hips buck up without him telling them to. He can feel the pulsing of his heart in his dick, and he so hard that even just staying pressed against the boot laces shoots pleasure into his veins.

Suddenly in the haze of melodies and the smell of Dew’s cologne, there are footsteps.

Phantom presses his face into the meat of his thigh to hide his embarrassed flush as his hips refuse to stop humping Dew’s foot like a he’s in heat.

“I see you two are working this out.”

Aether.

Phantom’s breath hitches. He’s so close that tears are forming in his eyes. He has no idea how many more minutes are left at this point, but it better be soon or else he’s going to explode.

“Four minutes left. Tell him he has been doing good."

A large hand is raking through Phantom’s sweaty black and white hair. Blunt claws scratch at the base of his hairline. “You’re beautiful like this. Making our Dewdrop feel better by being such a good little Ghoul. Does grinding on his foot feel that good?”

Phantom’s head is pulled back until he’s staring hazily up at Aether. His exposed throat and face feel the coolness of the older Ghoul’s aura compared to the heat Dew is radiating against the rest of his body. “Please…I need to…”

“That’s an impressive wet spot. I’d say you were ready to burst, huh,” Aether crouches behind Phantom and kisses his lips. It’s awkward with them being opposites, but he swallows Phantom’s loudest whimper yet. He releases Phantom’s head and lets him grind to his heart’s content.

Phantom’s claws dig into Dew’s jeans, eliciting a hiss from the Fire Ghoul that forces a glob of pre-cum to smear through his sweatpants and onto the black boot laces. “Please…”

“Two minutes.”

“Please,” Phantom cries into his knee, “Please let me cum!”

“I said, two minutes,” Dew snaps. He lifts his foot, and the steel-toe presses up against Phantom’s balls.

Phantom jolts, a startled cry of frustration slipping out. Another wet drool of pre-cum leaks out onto the shiny black surface. “I’m gonna--!”

“No, you aren’t,” Aether takes a handful of Phantom’s white bangs. “If you cum before time is up, then you’ll have to sit here for another hour.”

That causes Phantom to pause his thrusts for a second; but the pleasure is too great and he’s so keyed up from everything. “Please, please…! You said I’ve been so good.”

Dew looks at the wall clock across the room. “One minute and then you can cum.”

Phantom nods and resumes his rhythm---sixty seconds is manageable.

Except it’s not.

Aether’s hand in his hair pulls his head back again. Phantom’s hips cant up against the lace’s knot and the combined pleasure of the friction, the wetness of his pre-cum and the pain of the hand on his head makes him shoot cum into the front of his sweatpants.

He keens loudly.

“That was dirty, Aeth. He still had thirty seconds,” Dewdrop chides.

Phantom pants openly in Aether’s grip. He whimpers when Dew moves his foot upwards again. It forces out another spurt of cum that leaks out onto the Fire Ghoul’s shoe.

Aether shrugs and lets go of the Quintessence Ghoul. “I’d say that’s close enough. Besides, I want to see what his mouth can do next.”

“How much longer do you think you can stay on your knees?” Aether asks. His hand gently lifts Phantom’s tear and spit-slicked jaw.

Phantom slowly slides back off the boot. By the time he’s turned his head, Aether’s already unzipped his fly. He hears the click of the amp turning off and the creak of the rack for their guitars.

“However long you want me to, Sir,” Phantom croaks.

Dew’s elegant fingers trace down the smaller Quintessence Ghoul’s nose. “Such a good boy.”

[ifearzombies]

Funny Moments In the HoL

Just little things that MC would totally share with their friends in the Human Realm.

- You all decided to play Hide & Seek (with a few rules about locations). The winner was Leviathan. He hid in a cooking pot and the only reason anyone found him is after everyone else was found, Beel got hungry and turned the pot on. Poor Levi’s tail had a burn for days.

- Mammon stole your D.D.D. once. He returned it with more selfies than Asmo takes of himself loaded in there. You saved the naughty ones for later.

- Beel accidentally ate a burger squeaky toy you got for Cerberus. The squeaker and all. He got the hiccups later that day and everyone laughed at the squeaking going off.

- Solomon spent the night with you and Asmo. Asmo kissed his head at one point and left a kiss mark in his hair with his lipstick. It took DAYS to wash out. You then borrowed Asmo’s lipstick and put the mark right back on your favorite sorcerer.

- You got a cute rat plush for yourself. Barbatos saw it and your room was unusable for a few days.

- The entire household caught a cold and everyone was miserable. So you all just watched a bunch of movies all cuddled together. Belphie promised Mammon that the movie ‘Cabin In The Woods’ wasn’t a horror movie. It was a romantic one, showing him the reviews for a movie called ‘The Lake House’. Poor Mammon hid under your blanket almost the whole movie.

- You introduced Asmo to Elton John. Asmo loved his fashion and you’ve seen some of the most ridiculous outfits known to man, angels, and demons alike. You saved the pictures.

- You lost a bet to Levi and had to wear a Ruri-chan cosplay to RAD. This backfired because Levi couldn’t focus all day and took way too many pictures.

- You proposed a talent show to Diavolo. You regretted it almost immediately. The Little D’s, while great dancers, are HORRIBLE singers! They looked adorable though.

- You have discovered that Satan headbutts you when he wants attention. He accidentally did it with his horns once. Thank Diavolo they only slightly tore your clothes. But your arm was sore for weeks. Luke and Lucifer chastized him over the bruise.

- Lucifer bought a second motorized wheelchair. It’s not needed. No. He bought it so that you guys could all have wheelchair races.

- You sang the song ‘My R’ and the house was MASS PANIC! Everyone was so worried about you and you had to explain that no, you’re not depressed, you just like the song. No. Liking the song doesn’t mean I’m depressed. Really guys. I promise I’m OK. It took a LOT of convincing, but they eventually realized you were actually OK. They still made you go talk to Simeon just as a precaution. Simeon was just... very confused, but was glad you were OK.

- You mentioned to Asmo that pole dancing is a form of working out. Asmo INSTANTLY bought two dance poles. They lasted less than a day because the moment you tried to use it with Asmodeus, the house lost their shit. Lucifer had to get rid of them for your (hips) well being.

- Belphie one time fell asleep in the bathroom. You walked in and found him standing near the sink, head under the faucet as it ran. You took a picture and then helped him.

- Luke went sniffing around your room and found a vibrator. You told him it was a personal massager and he asked if he could use it to massage his back. You told him no and to not poke around your room like that again. You explained this to Simeon who turned beet red... and then asked to see the vibrator himself... Just so that he can make to avoid Luke seeing such things again. Obviously.

[advisorykitty]

Rock,Paper,Siccors ᴿᵒᵇᵉʳᵗ ᵀᵃᵏᵉᵘᶜʰⁱˣᴿᵃᵗʷᵒᵐᵃⁿ ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ╭──────┄°❀°┄──────╮

╰──────┄°❀°┄─────╯

The cramped walls of the Ivory Household were filled with the sounds of the ratmen arguing, the space dimly lit and cluttered with scavenged bits of food. As the only female ratperson, you often found yourself at the center of their chaos—though usually not intentionally. Being the smallest of the group didn’t help, either.

"Alright," Robert drawled, leaning against a dusty wall, arms crossed. He was nonchalant as always, but there was an edge to him—like he always knew more than he let on. "We're playing rock-paper-scissors to see who’s going out to find food."

You stood at the back of the group, blinking slowly. “Right... so, what again?”

Michael Jr., the ever-sweet second ratman, smiled brightly at you, his childish nature showing. “It’s easy, [Y/N]! We all throw rock, paper, or scissors. Whoever loses has to go scavenging.”

The others—Final Fantasy-Kun, Cinimmon De Smith, and Cheeseburger—nodded in agreement, already prepared for the game.

You nodded along, though you still didn’t completely get it. You had played this game before and always, without fail, picked rock. It was sturdy, reliable—why wouldn’t you pick it? But that habit had yet to bring you any success.

The group gathered in a small circle, hands ready. “One, two, three—go!” they called out, all throwing their respective hands.

You, as expected, picked rock.

Cinimmon sighed loudly. “Seriously? She did it again.”

Final Fantasy-Kun smirked. “Guess we know who’s getting dinner tonight.”

You blinked, glancing around. “Wait… did I lose?”

Robert’s smirk widened just a bit as he pushed himself off the wall. “Yeah, [Y/N], you lost. Get going.”

You pouted a little but nodded. “Alright, I’ll be back with food.”

The others waved you off, probably glad they weren’t the ones who had to leave the safety of the Ivory Household. As you slipped through the small rat hole that led to the main part of the mansion, you hummed softly to yourself, your mind drifting in that usual, airy way.

---

The halls of the Ivory Household were eerie, cold, and quiet. The air felt more dense as you wandered in search of food. The house, which frankly looked really odd, felt weirdly like a maze; you had sworn you saw that stain on the uncanny wallpaper a dozen times!

Still, you were determined to find something to bring back—hopefully something that wasn’t stale bread or expired canned goods this time.

As you rounded a corner, you froze. A tall figure stood at the end of the hallway, his presence unmistakably menacing. He wore a black shirt that said "NEVADA," his posture relaxed but his eyes glowing with something darker. His gaze locked onto you, and you could feel the air shift.

A smile crept onto your face. “Kitty!” you called out, far too cheerfully for the situation.

The man—no, the catman—raised a brow, his expression twisting into one of irritation. “What did you just call me?”

“Kitty,” you repeated, your tone innocent, as though he were some stray cat you had found. “You look fluffy, like a kitty.”

Nyen growled lowly, taking a step closer. His claws twitched at his sides, ready to spring into action. “I’m not a kitty, you little pest!” he spat, his voice dripping with venom.

You didn’t flinch, still smiling at him. “Well, you look like one.”

His patience snapped. In an instant, Nyen lunged at you, claws out, swiping toward your face. You barely had time to react, stumbling backward as his sharp nails tore through the fabric of your clothes, grazing your skin.

“Ow!” you yelped, clutching at the shallow scratch. “What was that for?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Nyen snarled, his chest heaving with barely contained rage. “Do you think you can just stroll around here like you own the place? Calling me a damn kitty?” Each word was a threat, and he leaned in closer, his predatory glare sending chills down your spine.

Your heart pounded in your chest, but even in the face of his aggression, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel fear. Instead, you were more confused than anything. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just being friendly.”

His lip curled in disgust. “Friendly? You rats are always crawling around here, thinking you’re so clever. What the hell is wrong with you?”

It finally occurred to you that you were in serious danger.

Without a second thought, you bolted down the corridor, heading to what looked like a kitchen, swiping a few things in the short time you had.

You sprinted down the hall, clutching the stolen goods in your arms—a loaf of fresh bread, a jar of pickled vegetables, and a half-wrapped slab of cheese that you’d managed to swipe from the pantry. It was a bit of a hasty grab, but you figured it would keep you and the others fed for a while.

The bread was still warm, its soft crust slightly squished against your chest as you ran, while the jar of pickles clinked loudly in your arms, making you wince with every step. You'd almost dropped the cheese when you first grabbed it, but now you held onto it tightly, the waxy wrapping slipping slightly in your grip.

Not exactly the most discreet of hauls, but you’d been in too much of a panic to care about being subtle.

---

The halls of the Ivory Household echoed with your hurried footsteps, heart pounding in your chest as you clutched a loaf of bread and a couple of apples—your prize for losing yet another round of rock-paper-scissors.

You hadn’t meant to steal, not exactly. The pantry had been sitting there, the food practically begging you to take it, especially since you were the one sent out to scavenge. But after the encounter with Nyen—the snarling catman with the deadliest glare—you knew you had to bolt.

He hadn’t been happy when you’d called him “kitty,” and from the way he lunged at you, you figured staying to chat wasn’t in your best interest. So, with your loot hugged tightly to your chest, you dashed through the maze of hallways, trying to find a way back to your rat hole.

The air was heavy with tension, the sound of Nyen’s rapid footsteps echoing somewhere close behind. You needed to get away—and fast. You rounded a corner, only to collide headfirst into a broad chest, sending you stumbling back.

The figure before you was another catman, though this one was different—softer, less imposing than Nyen. He blinked down at you, his sherbet pink eyes wide and startled, his hat sitting crooked atop his head.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” you squeaked, trying to gather your stolen goods while stammering an apology. “I didn’t mean to bump into you. I—uh—was just leaving!”

Nyon looked confused, tilting his head as if processing your words. His Russian accent was thick when he finally spoke, his English slow and broken. “It... okay. You... run?”

You opened your mouth to respond but froze when a voice behind you roared, dripping with venom. “Fucking traitor!”

It was Nyen. He had caught up. His heavy boots thudded against the floor as he stormed toward you, eyes ablaze with fury. “Move, Nyon! That little rat stole from us!”

Nyon, however, remained still, his eyes darting between you and Nyen. He didn’t look like he wanted any part in whatever was going on, his nervousness visible in the way his hands fidgeted by his sides.

“I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” you whispered frantically to Nyon, inching back slowly, hoping Nyen wouldn’t slice you up on the spot.

Nyen’s patience snapped. “Get the hell out of my way, Nyon!” He shoved past Nyon with an intensity that sent the poor guy stumbling, and in a last-ditch attempt to escape, you bolted in the opposite direction, hearing Nyen’s enraged footsteps thundering behind you.

Your lungs burned as you sprinted, mind racing. You needed a plan—a way out.

“Robert! Robert, help!” you called out, voice high-pitched and desperate, hoping your fellow ratman would come to your rescue.

As if on cue, a small rat hole in the wall near the floor cracked open just ahead. Robert’s face appeared, his usual calm expression tinged with mild annoyance. “Get in, [Y/N],” he grumbled, motioning for you to hurry.

Without hesitation, you dived into the rat hole, squeezing your small frame through just as Robert slid the makeshift door shut behind you. You could hear Nyen’s frustrated shout on the other side, his fist pounding against the wall.

"Fucking rats," Nyen spat, but he didn’t dare follow. He knew better than to crawl into the confined spaces where ratmen thrived.

Panting and covered in dust, you leaned against the wall of the narrow passage, clutching your stolen food to your chest. Robert, as always, seemed unbothered, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

“You really have a knack for finding trouble,” he said, his tone flat.

You offered him a sheepish smile, still catching your breath. “It wasn’t my fault! I didn’t know that Kitty—uh, catman—was going to chase me.”

Robert shot you a look, unimpressed. “You called him ‘kitty,’ didn’t you?”

You winced. “Well, he looks like a kitty.”

Robert sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Look, just stay out of his way. And next time, when we say ‘don’t wander off,’ we mean it.”

You nodded, biting into the bread you’d snatched from the pantry. “Thanks, Robert. You’re always looking out for me.”

He waved you off. “Yeah, yeah, just try not to get killed next time. We’re running out of rat holes to hide you in.”

Despite his gruff demeanor, there was something almost protective in the way he watched over you. You couldn’t help but feel a little more secure knowing Robert had your back—even if he’d never admit it out loud.

The pounding on the wall eventually faded as Nyen gave up, probably stalking back to brood somewhere in the shadows of the house. As you munched on the bread, you couldn’t help but wonder if Nyon had understood anything that just happened. But then again, maybe it was better if he didn’t.

As the tension faded, Robert sighed. “Next time, don’t be so stupid.”

You grinned, taking the insult as praise instead. “I’ll try my best!”

A small smile tugged Roberts lips.

[sprite-writes-fanfic]

Ok so I wonder how the TMNT boys (any version you want) would react if they had an S/O who they loved a lot, and they get sent to the future and in the future they get to meet their grandkid, and sadly their now old S/O who waited for them the whole time and never moved on. it turns out the S/O had been pregnant before they went on the mission and technically lived out their life raising the kid on their own.(due to the turtles being in the future) Also said kid is now an adult and is very unhappy with said turtle but the grandkid is over the moon to meet his cool ninja granddad of course its resolved they eventually go back to their past S/O who didn't know any of this but of course is happy to see them again.(and said timeline is avoided) I wonder how the boys would react to that scenario Also sorry if this was super long winded or a not very well written request, its my first time asking one, Thanks for your writings!

Okay first of all anon, this is probably one of the coolest asks I’ve ever seen, I love your imagination dude!

Second, I AM HERE FOR THIS ANGST AND FLUFF DUDE CRYING. Also thank you so much! I’m glad you like my writing!! 🫶🫶🫶

Sent to the future!

🐢💙❤️2003 TMNT x Reader💜🧡🐢

Word count: 2374

CW: This one is a long one, AFAB reader due to pregnancy, being mom/grandma, still tried to keep it gender-neutral. I haven’t gotten far enough into the 2003 series where they actually go to the future, so keep in mind this is my imagination going into overdrive, angsty, lots of crying, minor cussing, it gets fluffy in some moments though!

🐢 T/N stands for turtle name.

Tags: @sharkie-inthesea, for looking over this before I posted! <3

Sorry for the longer wait, I spent a lot of time the first day writing, then yesterday I was out of commission unfortunately 💔 But I finished today, I really hope you guys enjoy, because man, I enjoyed writing this!

Due to some circumstances, unfortunately the turtles had to travel to the future for a very important mission, I mean it’s not everyday you receive a hologram from a random stranger urging you to come save the future. And the idea of their future being in danger, meaning you, everyone they knew and New York would be in danger, so they had to take this mission.

You couldn’t help but bite your lip anxiously as you watched as they geared up, you wanted to hold them back, tell them to stay, tell them New York needed them here. The growing pit in your stomach telling you that you’d never see them growing much larger and even agitated, you absolutely hated the thought.

You looked at your lover, the feeling growing even worse, “T/N I—” you started, but was interrupted, “Hey, we have to go.” One of his brothers said, and your heart dropped as he turned to you and smiled. “Hey, I’ll be back, Y/N.” He pulled you close and pressed one last kiss to your lips, “I’ll be back before you know I’m gone, okay? I love you.” And that’s when you knew, you couldn’t talk him out of it, and with a defeated sigh you said with a forced smile, “I love you too.”

He squeezed you closer before finally pulling back, nodding at his sensei, before walking into the TV that took them to the future with his brothers, and just like that… They were gone.

“No…” you start, tearing up, before Splinter placed a hand on your shoulder. “It will be alright, my child.” He tried to soothe you, “It is okay to cry.” He said, and right then and there, you cried into the older rat’s shoulder as he comforted you. He stared at the TV and hoped for his sons safe return home…

Once the turtles arrived in the future, they were all honestly quite surprised how the world turned out to be. For Donnie, this was ABSOLUTE heaven! Everything is made from the ground up with technology! How amazing! The turtles couldn’t stare in awe for long, they had a mission to take care of.

They split off to cover some ground, and as T/N searched, something peculiar caught his eye. In a nearby alleyway, some cyberpunks came flying out, and they looked awfully familiar. He jumped down and took a closer look and saw an all too familiar tattoo. “The Purple Dragons…” he muttered bitterly. A sinking feeling grew in his gut, so it seems that Shredder’s influence didn’t die in the future and even to this day, they were still here to give New York trouble.

“Hey!” An unfamiliar voice called out to him, and a teenager came out, holding his weapon(s)?! The teen looked awfully similar to him too… Turtle features but had human features too, such as hair that looked a lot like yours, tied back, he had your eyes too, he wore a torn cloak around his shoulders and he eyed the turtle suspiciously. The teenager pointed his weapon at him, “What’re you doing here?! Helping those Purple Punks?!” T/N’s eyes widened. “No! Never! I never liked them much in the past, why would I ever like them in the future?!”

The teenager paused and eyed him suspiciously again, “Past?” He did a quick once-over before the kid looked shocked, “Wait… GRANDPA?!?!”

And that’s what led T/N to sit in a house, sitting on his knees in front of the low-dining table, walls covered in family photos. Some he could make out as, it was the teenager, which he came to learn his name was Lucas, with his father. Another turtle who Lucas obviously took after in looks.

Lucas came back into the dining room, basically dragging his father as he was babbling non-stop about who he just met. His father’s ridges were furrowed in confusion, “I thought I told you to stop fighting those stupid—” before he looked up and everything seemed to stop, his eyes widening at the sight of his own father who sat in front of him. “Lucas, who is this?” He grit his teeth as he held back his rage. Lucas would go on to cheerfully say, “It’s grandpa T/N! He said he came here in the future to help save it!” The young lad beamed excitedly.

“Get out.” He said in a voice full of anger, directed all at T/N, catching him by surprise, “What—” he started before being yelled at, “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE YOU SON OF A BITCH!” He raised his fists, about to fight his own father when he was stopped. “Giovanni, what’s going on?!?” A familiar voice spoke out as an older version of you rushed out and stopped, eyes widening at the scene in front of you. “T-T/N…?!” You stared in shock.

🐢💙Leonardo💙🐢

💙 Leo’s whole world stopped once he saw you, and he was quick to stand, “Y/N…” his heart ached when he saw the tears form in your eyes, “Leo… You finally came back to me?” You would rush to him, hugging onto him tightly, “It really is you…!” You sobbed out. Leo was quick to hug you back, holding you close as he comforted you. “Y/N, what happened?” He asked as you pulled away, cupping his face, “So much…” You whispered.

💙 Once everyone settled down, you sat across from Leo with Giovanni and Lucas beside you. Giovanni was giving Leo the harshest glare he ever gave someone, meanwhile Lucas was practically bouncing in his seat. You take a deep breath before looking at Leo, who waited patiently. “When you went to the future, I found out I was pregnant… I didn’t think it was possible, but… I had Giovanni.” You start, “Master Splinter helped me name him because I wanted to keep the line going with naming my kids after Italian artists, like he named you all…” you would lower your head, Giovanni placing a hand on your shoulder to comfort you. “Master Splinter passed away a few years later after you all went into the future and never came back…” you tear up again, “I don’t even know if in that future you’re still alive or not.” You began to weep softly, making Leo’s heart ache at even the idea of him ever abandoning you. He would never, and he knew that.

💙 He placed a hand on yours, “Y/N, I loved you more than life itself, I would’ve come back to you if I was still alive.” You look up, tears still falling, “I know.” Leo squeezed your hand gently, “Good…” he then finally stood, “I’m going to fix this, I can’t stand to see you suffer because of me.” He smiles at you and gently kisses your hand, “I’ll come back home to you.” You smiled as more tears fell, “Good.”

💙 Leo would leave after giving you a tight hug and wishing his future family well, despite the fact Giovanni barely wanted him there in the first place. Once meeting up with his brothers, they’d work hard to save the future so he could get back home to you, and to start that family together.

🐢❤️Raphael❤️🐢

❤️ Once Raph’s eyes laid on you, he felt a sudden rise of emotions that made him want to tear up, but for your sake he held back. “Dollface…” he stood up quickly and hurried over to you, Giovanni wanted to protest, but stopped himself when his mother hugged onto Raph tightly, crying into his chest. “Dollface, what happened?” He asks softly, stroking your cheek as he stares at what seemed like a hollow version of yourself. What had happened to you while he was gone, and why on earth was he not with you?! He was supposed to be here protecting you…

❤️ “Oh Raph… After you left, I found out I was pregnant and ended up living with Master Splinter.” You sigh, “He ended up passing away a couple years ago, after Mutants became more accepted here.” Raph’s brows furrowed at the thought, his father was dead, of course that would happen, he was an old rat after all, but it still hurt to think about. He shook his head, “And where was I?” He asked the burning question, watching as your face fell more, “You never came back. None of you guys did, and I fear you might’ve died in the future.” You whisper shakily as more tears escape you, and Raph could only hug you tighter to himself.

❤️ “Oh Dollface…” he would pull away, gently grasping your shoulders with a determined look, “I’m gonna make it better.” He says firmly, “I’m gonna finish this mission, and I’m gonna get back home to you.” He teared up, “I’m gonna help you raise Giovanni, and I’m gonna take care of you. I’m gonna grow old with you, and you can count on it.” He promised as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, a soft sob escaping you as you hugged onto him tightly once more.

❤️ Soon it was time for Raph to go, and as he walked off to meet up with his brothers, he looked back and gazed at his family one last time, he vowed to you, Giovanni and Lucas that he would make it home, and he would make sure of that. When his brothers saw him, they saw a certain fire in his eyes, and the boys knew it was game time, and he sure as hell was gonna keep his promise.

🐢💜Donatello💜🐢

💜 When Donnie saw you, he was still processing everything, how did you two have a baby? How is that even genetically possible? But his mind finally stopped and his heart sank when you came rushing towards him, making him quickly stand up and holding you close to his person. “Y/N…” He whispered breathily, pressing soft kisses to your temple, making you cry harder.

💜 “I’ve missed you so much.” You say, and Donnie knew, he put two-and-two together. “I never came back, did I?” He asks, pulling away as he gazes into your dull eyes, “No.” You shake your head with a whisper, staring back into his eyes. “And you never moved on?” He asks again, his heart breaking at the thought. “No.” You whisper again. Donnie would rest his head on yours as he would rub his hands over your arms, before gently taking your hands, seeing the ring he had crafted for you many years ago, still resting on your finger. He bit back his emotions and inhaled sharply, “Why? Why didn’t you move on?” He asked.

💜 “I don't think I could ever have found anyone who could fit the role that only you could fill.” You would cry again, making him finally break down and cry with you. He hugged you tightly, whispering how much he loved you, promising you that he’d go back to you, that he’ll come home to you. Promising you that you wouldn’t have to raise Giovanni alone. You would have him by your side…

💜 Finally off, he waved goodbye to you, his son and his grandson, and he held his head high, ready to take on this mission, to go home, and to kiss you. To spend every night with you like he always did, to hold you, to create with you, to enjoy peace and life’s gifts. Once he found his brothers, he got straight to work with Leo to make a plan to ensure they all made it home safe and sound.

🐢🧡Michelangelo🧡🐢

🧡 Mikey would immediately begin to cry when you cried, the way you looked so sadly at him, the years of pain without him was more than apparent. “Babe…” he stands up quickly, “Don’t cry, don’t cry, I’m here.” He smiles, holding you to himself, but he couldn’t stop those cries, and he couldn’t stop himself from crying either. He held you tightly, letting your emotions run free. He glanced up and saw Giovanni glaring at him but keeping his distance, he knew his mother needed this…

🧡 Mikey pulled back and would place kisses along your face, trying to cheer you up, “I’m here… You don’t have to cry anymore.” He tried to assure you about everything that happened between sobs. He would rub your back soothingly as he hummed a soft tune to try and see your mind. You felt complete once again when he hugged you, and soon, you calmed down. You guys spent a lot of time in each other's arms, mostly Mikey trying to cheer you up and make you smile, making you relive the old days of when it was just you two being dumb and in love, and the thought made you smile.

🧡 Forgetting about the mission for a while, Mikey instead spent time with his soon-to-be family. Playing board games, getting to know Lucas, and trying to get Giovanni to open up, which he refused, as he very much disliked his own father for reasons such as he left his mother and never came back, not something Mikey could control, but Giovanni still held a grudge. Lucas on the other hand was thrilled to get to know his grandpa, and overall, thought his grandpa was amazing.

🧡 Soon it was time to leave, but Mikey wouldn’t leave until he gave you a sweet departing kiss and, against Giovanni’s protests, gave his son and grandson a big hug, promising to fix everything, to make sure that they don’t live a future without him! And off he went, being sure to fight his hardest on this mission to get back home to you.

……

Once T/N made it home, he didn’t hesitate to hug right onto you, leaving you surprised by this sudden burst of emotions, “T/N…? Is everything okay?” You ask, noticing his injuries, you pull away. “T/N, we have to take care of those—”

“No.” He says, “Just let me hold you.” He says as he hugged you tightly, resting a hand on your stomach as he did so, feeling his own chest swell with gratitude to be here again. This was the beginning of something new, and he was happy to be here with you, and to start this family with you.

[brokenpieces-72]

Repairing Bridges

Navigation

TW: gang stuff, past trauma, mentions of death, tell me if there is anything else.

Graves shifts in his chair in the dark of his apartment. He figured this day would come. The tv illuminated the small living space in harsh light. You were safe, he told himself. You told him as much. When he saw you turned off your location he considered texting you. Now he was glad he hadn’t.

Makarov was back. That monster was back and now Graves worked for him. He thought back to when you told him about getting jumped by a few officers. They were his, he could tell. You didn’t tell him, didn’t rat them out. He’d asked them to keep an eye on you while you were having a week to yourself. In that time, he had kept checking up on you. It wasn’t just for you to report to him but to see you were safe. He kept it professional not wanting to get too attached, and vice versa. Losing his partner was bad enough, but he wasn’t about to lose his partner’s kid too.

With you gone and somewhere not even he knew, there was less to worry about. Now he needed to figure out his own next steps. Time would tell for now. Maybe he would take some long vacation, but Makarov was thorough. Could he trust his own officers, after they hurt you?

He switched over the channel not wanting to see the man’s face. The tv continued playing, as he got up, to get a drink for himself. Day off tomorrow. He had a little more than 48 hours. Graves texted Alex. Wouldn’t be surprised if Alex already knew but Farah would need to know as well. Then he thought about Price. Price would already know by now, word would spread to other gangs like the Los Vaqueros easily enough.

As he took more sips of his drink the memories came back. Ones he told himself he wouldn’t let bother him. Makarov’s words of warning, your father’s body, Price’s glare, Soap holding him against the wall… and your scared, sad face full of tears after he had to tell you your dad wouldn’t be coming home again. He blamed himself, wishing he had stepped in, stopped your father, done something either in that moment or before.

Graves texts you.

You didn’t see the text until the next morning. You got up, asked Simon who was already up if you could have a shower.

“I’m not your parent.” He replies. “There’s a towel in your closet though.”

After the shower you come back out, and find Simon crouched in front of black cat eating at some leftover tuna. It’s interesting to see Ghost in a much more calm state. You hadn’t seen him in action but you’d heard he could be lethal, sending more than a few cops to the hospital. Now here he was in dark jeans, a black hoodie and the same scarf over half his face from last night, petting a scrawny feline, who wasn’t intimidated at all.

“Are they yours?” You ask trying to keep your voice down. When you left the bathroom, you could make out snoring in another room. Didn’t want to wake anyone.

“Seen her a few times. People don’t like black cats, so they try to get rid of them.” He says, scratching the cat between the ears. The cat raised its head, welcoming the scratches. When Simon stopped the cat circled him rubbing up against his legs. “Cats don’t get to choose what they look like… owners don’t deserve to be cruel.” He adds in. Simon stood up and turned to you, seeing clean clothes. Black pants, baggie hoodie, a white tshirt. Your wet hair was covered by your beanie, and you already had your red scarf on.

Both of you stand there in awkward silence. Simon’s feline friend was still rubbing against his leg and purring.

“Hungry?” He asks finally.

“Kind of.” You say. Ghost shakes his head. He could understand you being weary still, he wasn’t exactly a bunny rabbit.

“Diner across the street does take out. Ask them what the price is for breakfast. Get yourself something too. You got money?” He asks. You nod, getting your shoes on with another word, taking your card and phone in your back pockets.

Once you get outside into the cold winter morning, your phone buzzes. You check it and find a text from Graves. One sent last night and the other just now.

G: Keep your location off.

G: We need to talk.

You stare at the text message while you walk through the alley, to get to the diner. Your steps are slow as you try to decide what to text back with.

Y/N: getting breakfast right now.

G: Take it back to your place.

G: or where you’re staying.

Y/N: why what’s going on?

G: is anyone with you?

Y/N: not right now.

G: staying with you?

Y/N: Why?

G: Tell me.

Y/N : Tell me why!

You weren’t about to let him get away without giving you answers. You finally reach the diner, and repeat what Ghost told you to, while ordering something for yourself. While you wait at the counter, you look around the quiet mostly empty diner. You notice a larger man in a booth staring at you. At first you turn to look in the same direction he is, then back at him. Definitely staring at you. Keeping your hands in your pockets you look back at him. Two can play at this game. He scoffs after a bit of you both staring.

“Can I help you?” You ask with some attitude. He scoffs again finally looking away. You take a moment to pull out your phone and snap a photo of the guy. Thankfully your food comes and you’re able to leave. Something about his stare made you uncomfortable, like he was sizing you up. You take a longer route back to the hideout. Couldn’t hurt to be safe.

By the time you arrive Soap is up with a coffee in hand, and at the bar counter of the kitchen. You close the door behind you and set the food on the counter, before sitting next to Soap at the bar. You take out your own container with your breakfast inside, and start eating while Soap gets his. You notice three containers remain. Ghost retrieved his and Gaz emerges from the hall way. Soap is wearing the same clothes as last night, while Gaz just changed his shirt.

“Last one for the cat?” You ask, through mouthful of food.

“Still feeding it?” Soap chimes in, while Ghost rolls his eyes.

“He’ll be here soon.” Gaz says.

“It’s a girl.” You say, thinking you’re still discussing the cat. Only when the door to the unit open do you realize what Gaz meant. Price walks in wearing a long coat. You notice he seems rushed as he takes his jacket off, and makes his way to the kitchen. He gives a quick and curt morning, before getting his breakfast. He too seems to be wearing similar clothes from yesterday. Off white shirt and faded pants.

Ghost is staring, his container hardly touched. He’s watching Price as he looks up and back at him. Price’s eyes look to you, and you look away to take out your phone. You look back to see a silent conversation happening between the two bosses.

Price keeps moving his eyes to the floor while Ghost’s body language goes tense. Ghost clenches a fist, body now facing more to Price and away from you. Ghost shakes his head before pouring a cup of coffee for Price.

“What’s wrong?” You finally ask. Gaz hops up on to the other side of the counter you and Soap are seated at. Price sips the dark coffee sighing, and looking at you.

“Before I answer, I need to know how much you understand about your father.” He says. Before the case you would have said you understood everything. Now though… you weren’t as sure as before.

“I know he did things for good reasons. Trusted you guys.” Not much else you could say.

“Do you trust us?” Price asks, folding his arms and leaning against the counter behind him, staring at you. There was still so much they hadn’t told you. It would take time for you to get the answers that made sense. For now, you didn’t have much of a choice.

“Yes.” You say. There’s a hint of uncertainty in your voice but Price wasn’t about to be picky.

“…Makarov is back in town, and he’s got his old position.” Price says. Everyone freezes in place going dead silent. You’re confused. You didn’t know who Makarov was. The name felt familiar though. Maybe something you heard in passing.

“Unfucking believable.” Soap says.

“News report was last night.” Price confirms.

“Who’s Makarov?” You ask a little nervous now.

“Mafia, has his dirty lil’ fingers everywhere.” Johnny says.

“And he’s the former police commissioner.” Ghost adds. You fidget in your seat. More questions but those could be addressed later.

“What about Milena and Nolan?” Gaz asks. Great more names you were in the dark about. Well, Milena’s you’ve heard before, she’s a businesswoman and socialite. There has been some small rumours about her and her late partners, but no one seemed to pay it any mind.

“More than likely.” Price said. “Alex, Farah and the Los Vaqueros have been made aware and to lay low for now. Don’t need Nolan getting set on anyone until we know what’s going on.”

“What does he look like?” You ask. When you get a loose description you unlock your phone and show Johnny the man you saw at the diner.

“Steamin Jesus…” he says, while Kyle leans back getting a look at the photo. You hold it up to Simon and John. John straightens and comes over to take your phone and get a better look.

“How long ago was this?” He asks.

“Maybe an hour or two by now. Took a longer way to get back just in case. He kept staring at me.” You explain.

“You see him again, you tell us but don’t go near him if you can.” Price orders. You nod and he looks at his everyone in the room. “Right here’s the deal. Makarov is back and he’s gonna have something planned, underground shit and we need to keep our eyes open so nothing goes unnoticed. We need to expose anything and everything he does or is connected to, I don’t care how hare-brained.”

“Yes sir.” Was said by everyone including you. You swore you saw the corner of Price’s mouth turn up for a moment to a smile. Loyalty. If there’s one thing Price had it was that.

Then your phone buzzes in Price’s hand. He notices the name but makes no comment as he hands it back to you. You check the name, and excuse yourself, getting you boots on and stepping outside.

You answer it just before it goes to voicemail.

“Hello?”

“Y/N? We need to talk.” You hear Graves on the other end. He sounds tired, and nervous.

“Yeah what is it?” You answer, trying to keep your hesitation out of your voice.

“I mean in person. Are you able to meet with me, or have you skipped town?”

“No no… I’m just uh… sorry was just eating breakfast. What’s wrong?”

There’s a long pause in the other end. For a moment you wonder if the signal is lost. Then you hear a sigh.

“Y/N… there’s a lot I’ve got to tell you. In person. When can you meet?” He asks.

“Couple hours maybe?” You say uneasy.

“I’ll send you my location. Come alone.” He instructs before hanging up. You pop your head back into the apartment. Everyone looks at you from the kitchen.

“Can someone give me a ride?”

Rudolfo helped Alejandro back into their hide out, both of them exhausted and bloodied. They expected some resistance during their shipment raid but not that high.

Rudolfo gets Alejandro into a chair before making his way carefully and slowly to the first aid kit.

“You broken Hermano?” Alejandro asks. Rudolfo almost chuckles. Man was nearly on a his death bed, and asking him if he was okay.

“More intact than you.” Rudolfo says, focusing on the injuries. Alejandro, still running on adrenaline gives a large grin, chuckling painfully. His mind was racing and clouded at the same time. The shipment was a big one but holy hell, the amount of security, and their weapons… he’d seen swat teams less armed.

Rudolfo helps him get his jacket off, to a bloodied white tank top underneath. Rudolfo assesses the damage before getting up and going to the bridge, giving Alejandro a strong bottle of liquor. Full the pain now. He winced himself feeling a couple of casings in his arm. Alejandro had taken the brunt of it though.

“You think that little cop told them?” Alejandro wonders aloud.

“Not likely. They haven’t talked to us. Unless Soap has told them something.” Rudolfo says, starting to tend to the bullet wounds.

“Or we have yet to be told something.” Alejandro speculates.

Kyle gives you a ride to the address you’re given, parking some distance away. He’s insistent on coming with you but you’re firm. No one comes with you.

You meet Graves by a river, with small boulders along the edge. Near the shore of the river you see Graves pacing. Thinking back there was never a time you could recall of Graves sitting still. He’s wearing casual clothes, along with a coat and leather gloves. Looks nervous too. Slowly you make your way down to him. As you get closer, he looks up hearing you approach. You don’t look up at him until you reach the shore focused more on your footing.

Then he hugs you. It’s a protective one, a relieved one like you just came out of the hospital. You squirm out of it, feeling annoyed. He was giving you shit not that long ago, and now he was acting all protective? Yeah no, he didn’t get to do that without talking.

“You okay? You’re safe?” He asks. You nod.

“What do you want?” You ask him, wanting to get this over with. Graves shifts a little looking around.

“How much time you got?” He asks.

“If this is some bull shit to get me beat up again-“

“That wasn’t supposed to happen!” He says.

“Wasn’t suppose-the hell does that mean?!” You demand.

“Y/N, a lot has happened and a shit ton is about to happen, so can you please just-”

“No.”

“What?!”

“No, you need to tell me what the hell is going on and what has been going on! I was nearly beaten to death by a bunch of blues, and out of nowhere you want to meet in private. Tell me what the fuck is going on!” You tell him. You’re done. You want answers and Graves clearly had some. He looks down at his feet. Wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or proud of your backbone.

“I asked some of my buddies down at the precinct to check in on you, that was it, and only it.” He says, firmly. You cross your arms. “When you told me about them attacking you, I was pissed off.”

“You knew about dad and the 141?” It was hardly a question. Graves solemnly nods.

“Why the fuck was I put on this case then?!” You ask. “I was going to find out.”

“…because I hoped you would be the key to bringing your dad back.” Graves admits.

“What…?”

“Your father opened up cases we couldn’t get access to because of warrants and policies and laws. If it weren’t for your father there are cases we would never have looked into. We needed that again. The 141 don’t trust me, but they would trust you. When you told me you wanted off the case, I realized I screwed up, you weren’t ready. I was worried about you still, but didn’t want to risk tipping off the gangs that we knew each other.” He explains.

“…you were using my dad’s name basically.” You said not wanting to show any empathy. “So what changed? Why are you telling me this now?”

“…your father’s killer is the new chief commissioner.” He puts bluntly.

It’s like a big rock was thrown at your chest. You knew Makarov was back…you didn’t know he killed your father. Graves kept that from you. Makarov was mafia, maybe he was paid. Did the 141 know? This was almost too much and you felt yourself running out of air, the world spinning around you. Suddenly Graves is holding you up by your shoulders leading you to a rock to sit on.

Graves helps you through your sudden attack, helping you breath and keeping you from passing out. Naming your surroundings by your senses while you fight the memories. You weren’t there when he died. Graves came to you one night while you were home alone. You greeted him at the door with hug around his waist. Usually he would gently peel you off of him, but on this night he got on his knees and hugged you when you came over to him. When you asked him where your father was, he nearly broke down himself. You remembered him hugging you and picking you up to take up to bed, and asking the same question.

“You doing better…” he asks finally. You take deep breath and nod your head.

“I promised your father I would look out for you… encouraging you to be a cop meant you would stay under Makarov’s radar and no one would go after you. Makarov left I thought that would be the end, but it wasn’t, he’s back now, and I have to keep you safe, do you understand.”

“No.”

“Y/N-“

“I’m not running away… I’m not going to be a cop either. You can’t keep me out of it anymore. I’m a fucking adult, I’m not a child.”

“I made a promis-“

“I’m in this now! I’m not running from it!” You yell at him. Graves sighs, frustrated.

“…where are you staying?” He asks.

“None of your business.” You say crossing your arms. Graves is starting to get fed up with your attitude. He almost chuckles, giving you a smile.

“You’re right it’s not.” He confesses. “Do me a favour then. Adult to adult.”

“Sure.” You shrug.

“Stay safe. Now I don’t need to know what you’re doing, in fact the less I know the better. Keep me semi-posted. Made a promise to keep you safe to your dad before he passed. I can’t stop you from being your own person. Should have known that day one of meeting you, but be careful. Makarov has his hands in a lot of places, and I’ll be on a leash. If I try leaving who knows what will happen. Can at least try to keep the others in check.”

“Got it.” You say. There’s silence with only the rushing water to fill it. He sits down next to you on the rock, thinking of how to change the subject.

“Saw the mural you made on Soap’s Turf.” He says, over the rushing water. “Shit you are talented with a spray can. Should never have told you to change, could’ve made a good life for yourself.”

“I have one now.” You tell him. “One with good friends.”

“You need any of your stuff out of the apartment? Dropped off or anything?” He offers.

“Could probably go pick it up now, before I head back.” You say.

“It’s my day off.” He mentions. “If you really want we can get something to eat, give you one day of normalcy before shit hits the fan. Show me the other murals.”

“I have one I still need to make… got interrupted the last time, think I owe them one.” You exclaim.

“Think you could do it tomorrow?” He asks.

“I should start it today… but I could eat first.” You know Graves is going through it to, whether it’s his own fault or not. Graves while not the best father figure, was there for you. He was there for your dad. In the end he was still the one who stood up for you in precinct. You wanted to give him some normality before you both parted ways.

“Let the gang know we may be a bit. Otherwise I think Gaz will be sitting and waiting in that car for some time.” Graves says standing up. You watch him slowly climb the boulders back to the top where the road was. You follow after him after texting Gaz you would be going with Graves for a bit.

Graves is nice enough to drop you off at your apartment and let you grab a couple things, including your art supplies. Then he takes you to a specific location.

There you get to work on the mural you had offered the Los Voqueros. Bridges need to be remade and rebuilt. They may not be the most sturdy, but it was simply a matter of creating more support.

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y_l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies

[alientee]

To Live Mauga x reader

I wrote this after reading a agnst Mauga fic it made me sad so I changed my past idea from slice of life to a fluffy moments with taking care of Mauga (gender neutral reader)

You didn’t ask Mauga a lot about his past, but you know it made him into the man he is today. As long as you’ve known him, he’s always had a carefree outlook on life. You’ve seen him angry, happy, horny, and even embarrassed.

But you had never seen him sad; nothing could wipe the usual smirk off his handsome face. To have a face of complete shock or dread was not something you were used to seeing. Mauga, the unshakable mountain of a man, was trembling, and you didn’t know what to do.

He came home distressed, covered in bandages. He took one look at you and instantly went to the bedroom, cooping himself up without saying a word. You made your way to the room to see the man you loved on the bed, slightly curled up, as if it would hide him from the world.

You went over to him and put your arms around him. He didn’t say anything; he didn’t even move. But somehow, you knew he didn’t want words; he just needed you. You continued to hold him, rocking him back and forth. And after an hour of that, he finally spoke.

“I almost died today." Your blood ran cold. Those are genuinely the last words you ever wanted to hear from him. You knew working for Talon would come with trouble, but being prepared for it was a whole different issue. You didn’t speak, deciding to wait and see if he’d continue.

“We had a mission to capture this dude. He owed Doom first a lot of cash. I should’ve known it would be bullshit when he sent the whole team. The guy we were chasing had us trapped like rats, trying to pick us off one by one. He had a lot of goons, too, until we finally caught up with him. The place was already torn down and still coming down on top of us. That asshole knew he couldn’t make it out, so he set himself off.”

You look at him, confused. “Set himself off?” Mauga nodded.

“He had bombs on his body, saying he wouldn’t give doom shit. He said he reached his goal, and he'd die knowing he did it with no regrets. I knew he was crazy, but I didn’t think he’d off himself before we could even capture him.”

Mauga leaned his head onto yours; he stayed quiet for a moment before placing his face on your shoulder.

“The whole building was coming down, and because I was the tank, I took the blunt hit off it. I was trapped behind the ceiling debris that fell. The whole building was falling apart; shit was on fire, and I was trapped. I thought I wasn’t gonna get out. When more of the ceiling fell on top of me, it broke open the floor. I fell through, but I had a chance. I had to crawl most of the way and use my guns to break whatever was blocking me off. I reached dead end after dead end, and I didn’t think I could get out. Shit was falling down on me, and I could barely breathe, and by the time I made it somewhere else, I thought it was another dead end until I dug through the debris and made it outside.”

You hugged him tighter, kissing his face all over. He had bruises all over his face. You kissed each of them softly, giving him an Eskimo kiss.

“I’m so glad you made it out, darling. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost you. My poor baby."

Mauga leaned into your touch, snuggling closer to your warmth. He kisses your cheek, finding his way back to your neck.

“Wanna know the most fucked up part when I got out. They were flying away, and the only reason they came back was because Sigma saw me and started waving, and Sombra came to look. They left me for dead, and I’m not even fucking surprised.”

You scowled “I’m not surprised either; I really wish you never joined Talon in the first place, but I know that as a mercenary, you have to do what you need to.”

He nodded while kissing your shoulder. He pulled you into his chest, and you rubbed your fingers over his bandaged arms.

“For the first time in a long time, I was afraid of dying. I promised myself after the heart surgery I’d live every day like it was my last; I just never thought that day would come as quickly as that. I was actually fucking scared of dying. I didn’t want to die that way, trapped and alone."

You held him tighter, and if you felt your shoulder getting wet, you didn’t say anything about it.

“I thought about you, how I couldn’t leave you, and how I had to get back to you. All I wanted to do was get back to the one person who gave a damn about me.”

“And you did. I’m so proud of you, my love.” You run your fingers through his hair and console him. "You're so strong. I know I worry about you a lot when you go on missions, but I never doubted that you would always come back to me."

You both hold each other while sharing sweet kisses and longing looks. Putting your foreheads against one another, Mauga squeezes your hips, bringing you closer.

“How about we take a bath together? I could look at your wounds, and after that, I’ll warm up dinner for you.”

Mauga nods, kissing your lips softly. “I’d love that, baby."

You got to the bathroom and ran the bath water. You can hear Mauga behind you getting undressed. You turn around and help him take off his wraps. He runs his hands through your hair, kissing your forehead as you slowly remove his bandages.

You couldn’t help but flinch at some of his wounds. You lift his hands, kissing each one of his knuckles. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You both stepped in the tub, but this time you got behind him. You take the shampoo and conditioner and start with his hair. He growled when you scrubbed his scalp; he always loved it when you played in his hair.

He growled and leaned his head back. As you rinsed his hair out, he leaned into you, kissing your jaw and neck. You softly push him away. “Let me wash your back.” He turned back around, letting you wash him.

“Wanna wash all of me?” You roll your eyes at him while he snickers.

“I’m not washing your butt, you dork," he playfully splashes you, causing water to get in your face and all over the floor.

"Oops"

After you both finish up, you dry off his hair, then clean and rewrap his wounds. He holds your waist the whole time, not giving you much room to move. “Do they hurt really bad?”

He gives you a pout, nodding his head. "Yup, kiss em for me?” You laughed at his foolishness. “You know what? Yes, I will.”

You lean in, kissing every one of his bandaged wounds. Mauga runs his fingers through your hair. He brings your face up to his, bringing you into a slow, passionate kiss. Your tongues caress each other, and his hands cover your face while rubbing your temples.

You lean back and kiss his chest, where his two hearts would be. “Let me warm your food up, then we could watch a movie."

He nodded. You both headed downstairs, and while you got his food ready, Mauga didn’t let you go. You are used to him being affectionate, but not this clingy. You didn’t mind, though he almost lost his life. You almost lost him. No matter how long it took, you’d be by his side, spoiling him until he was comfortable.

“Common Mauga I promised you cuddles and a movie."

And that’s how you both ended the night, cuddled up in each other's arms, sharing kisses and light touches. Mauga hands never left you. He nuzzled himself into your chest, and you played in his hair. Laughing at his cute antics.

“Gimmie kiss,” you lean down, kissing his lips.

"Another.” You start laughing; the sight of the giant man pouting and giving you puppy dog eyes was so adorable.

When you kiss him again, Mauga bites your bottom lip, sucking on it. Once he lets you go, you can’t help but ask something that’s been on your mind.

“You’re not going back to them, are you?”

“Don’t know"

You sighed, not really liking the answer, but not questioning it.

“Just know you don’t need them to make a living."

He looks up at you, kissing your nose.

“I know; all I need is you."

And after that, you couldn’t help but give Mauga all the kisses he wanted.